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[btsreadss]

P: Vampire!Sunghoon x Time-travel Scientist!Reader

Warnings: Mentions on biting, blood, feeding scenes, mentions of death, dissapearance, time travelling, yearning, kissing, physical touch, possesiveness, soft angst, happy ending!

Synopsis: In 2090, you're sent back in time to study a village that vanished without explanation. There, you met him. You weren't supposed to fall in love with him. But you did, with a vampire. And when time ran out, you left — believing that story had ended. Until one night, back in the future, he finds you. He hasn’t aged. And he never stopped waiting.

Wordcount: 11.8k

June 22, 2090. 

The hum of the machines never stopped in sector 7. 

Even at 3:27 in the evening, the corridors filled with guards, the bright white light pulsing against the huge glass doors. Surveillance cameras present every nook and crook of the room with security drones flying silently overhead, scanning every face, every badge, every retinal print.  

There were no windows in this part of the KRONEX institute- no clocks, no noise from the outside world. Time, here, was studied, twisted, and sometimes... broken. 

You adjusted the collar of your lab coat, feeling the slight static charge settling against your skin. Another night. Another sequence calibration.  

You were the lead scientist for KRONEX's Temporal Division, and one of only five globally certified operators with direct clearance to manipulate raw time.  

Not because you are lucky- but because you are good- really good at what you do.  

"You are early." Said a familiar voice.  

You turned around to see Taehyun, hands in his lab coat pockets, glasses slightly askew. He always arrived fashionably five minutes late, so this was new.  

"So are you," you say smirking.  

"Someone write it in the history."  

He chuckled, stepping beside you as the biometric scanner opened the reinforced glass doors to Lab room Delta- 12. 

Inside, your team was already gathered,  

Mira, the chronophysics analyst, stood at her console with her usual lip balm which she applies ever minute, tapping at the interface like it owned her something.  

Yuvi, head of atmospheric translation, stayed near the back, mumbling data projections to herself. 

Jungwon, the youngest, but sharp as hell, greeted you with the usual, two fingered salute from behind the drone mapping panel.  

"Took you long enough." Mira muttered without looking up. 

"You're welcome for the coffee I brought you last time." You say as you head to the central table.  

Everyone quickly followed you, sitting around the table. 

You five are the specialized high qualification scientists who got chosen to be the people handling lab delta- 12. Coming from different backgrounds, having same interests and working in cases together for years made your guys' bond unbreakable.  

You five are highly qualified specialists chosen to operate Lab Delta-12. Coming from different backgrounds but sharing the same passion, you've worked on countless cases together over the years — and that’s made your bond unbreakable. 

The door opened, interrupting your casual talks.  

In walked, Dr. Han Myung-sik— head of KRONAX, the man who'd once published a paper predicting time dilation six years before it was observed in real data. His face, though aged, was unreadable— eyes sharp beneath the thick silver eyebrows.  

No one spoke. You all stood up immediately.  

"Sit," he said. "This will be quick."  

The doors sealed shut behind him. A cold hum flickered through the room as he turned on the internal projector.  

Five floating files appeared above the surface. Each labeled, RED CASE.  

"Your group— delta 12 is chosen for this matter." Dr.Han said quietly.  

You could feel the weight of his words which he's about to say.

"We've uncovered five unresolved incidents. Each linked to potentially an unnatural shift in recorded time."  

"These aren't ripples," he continued.  

"These are fractures. Events that don't line up with any known temporal logic. People disappeared, memories vanished, objects never aged and yet—"  

He tapped the interface. The room dimmed, and each of your profiles synced to a case file. 

"You are the only ones qualified to investigate." 

He started pacing slowly.  

"Yuvi. You're being sent to March 2311, Seoul; right before the blackout that erased six months of global data records. You'll observe the internal tech culture and corporate rivalry."  

Yuvi blinked, nodding quietly, already calculating her cover identity.  

"Mira."  

He turned to her.  

"Your case is year 1652, Gyeongju province. A palace scribble who reportedly recorded a 'sky-born woman of light' before his records were seized. The ink used in his account was... not of this earth.” 

Mira grinned. "Finally, something fun."  

"Jungwon. Taehyun. You'll split into Northern territories. Parallel years, overlapping reports. Two villages with identical names, but only one should exist."  

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, "Are we crossing time lines? "  

"Just brushing," Dr.Han replied. "Do not stay longer than you have to."

Then, he turned to you.  

"And you."  

The room stilled.  

"Your case is the most weird one."  

A red dot expanded above the table. 

Satellite data. Korean countryside. Grainy and quiet. 

"A village in 2019 – known to exist, documented, populated and functioning." "Then, it disappeared. Not physically or violently. Just... gone. All the databases rewrote themselves. The people who lived there vanished as if they were never even existed— never even born." "Your job is to go there, undercover. Blend in. Find the root event. Identify the root autonomy and leave before it happens."  

Your fingers clenched lightly under the table. You stared at the red dot on the map.  

2019.  

A quiet time. A dangerous one — because it was still close enough to modern history to be familiar. Easy to slip up. Easy to stay too long.  

"Do we suspect temporal interference?"  

You asked as you shifted your gaze from the red dot to his eyes. Dr.Han meets your eyes. "We suspect something far worse. Something that doesn't belong in any time."  

The files flickered red again. "You'll begin calibration tonight. You jump within 750 hours. That is one month. Use your time wisely."  

As he turned to leave, he paused just once— right by the door.  

"And one more thing," he said without looking back.  "Don't fall in love with the timeline. It doesn't love you back."  

With that, he was gone. The table darkens. The lights return. Yuvi exhales. Mira cracks her knuckles and Jungwon leans forward.  

"2019 huh?" Taehyun mutters beside you. "Better pack your sarcasm and Emo clothes."  

You don't respond. You just stare at the red dot again. 

The village. Gone from memory. Gone from maps. But waiting for you all the same.  

One month. 

And only one day to finish prepping, calibrating your minds, bodies, and identities before entering a timeline that wouldn’t even recognize your names. You sat in the Sim Room, surrounded by floating holoscreens of early-2010s Korea. Architecture. Clothing. Language slang. Historical emotional markers. It was all too recent. Too real. 

Mira was curled on a bench nearby, watching 1600s scrollwork with a look that said I’d rather wing it. Taehyun was arguing with an AI over inconsistency in his destination’s documentation. Again. Jungwon? Already finished his prep module and was now trying to teach Mira how to drink from a metal bottle while upside down. 

“You’re going to the past, not space,” she said, annoyed but smiling.  “Still useful if I end up in a well,” Jungwon shrugged. You blinked away the holograms and stood, stretching out your arms. 

“This doesn’t feel like prep,” Yuvi murmured, joining you. “It feels like goodbye.” 

You didn’t answer.  

She studied you, thoughtful. “You okay with your timeline?”  “2019 is barely the past,” you said. “Feels like I could bump into my parents if I’m not careful.”  “Yeah, but yours is the haunted village,” Mira called. “Mine is just a floating woman in the sky.” 

“You’re the floating woman,” Jungwon muttered under his breath. She chucked a protein chip at him while he hid behind you, holding your shoulders as if his body isn't larger than yours.  

“Alright,” Taehyun said, glancing around. “Final dinner tonight in the Commons? Before the serious lockdown begins?”  “Only if you don’t bring another slide presentation to the table,” Mira groaned. 

“I make no promises.”  You smiled — small, but genuine 

And as the others drifted out of the room, chattering, playfully teasing, you lingered a moment longer — looking up at the blinking red timestamp over the Sim Door. 

30:00:00:00  DAYS : HOURS : MINUTES: SECONDS  JUMP 

You were the first one in the bay. The air smelled sterile, like metal and ionized mist. The chamber was massive — white, cold, humming. Five jump pods lined the back wall, each glowing faint blue with individual temporal calibration. 

The boots of your suit clicked softly as you walked, every step echoing louder than your breath. The fabric hugged your body like skin, the material pressure-sealed and embedded with auto-adaptive climate tech. Your mind was a storm beneath the still surface — years of training colliding with something much quieter. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” came Taehyun’s voice from behind. You turned. He looked exhausted, but composed — the kind of man who smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. “Didn’t try,” you replied simply. 

He nodded, stepping beside you, with his arm around your shoulder. You both looked at the pods in silence. 

One for each of you. One jump. One direction.  No promises of coming back the same. 

Soon after, Yuvi arrived — hair tied, suit zipped, clutching a small, folded piece of paper in her hand. A name, probably. A reminder of something real. Mira strolled in with a grin too bright to be sincere. “Guess it’s finally happening,” she said, snapping her gum, though her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her suit cuffs. 

Jungwon came last, walking like he was on his way to a vacation. Humming. But you saw the tension in his knuckles as he flexed them once, twice. Dr. Han entered from the upper level, flanked by three silent technicians and a console assistant holding the jump sequence tablet. 

“Final clearances have been locked in,” he announced, voice loud across the bay. “You have fifteen minutes.” 

One by one, your mission drives were inserted into the small ports at your pod stations. The information would sync once you landed in your time period — personalized cover stories, forged credentials, emergency kill phrases. 

“I’ll see you all again,” Jungwon said, softer now, eyes scanning the rest of you. “In whatever version of time we land in. 

“Bring back something cool,” Mira added. “Like a comet or an alien.”  “Or your soul intact,” Yuvi muttered, mostly to herself. You looked around. 

These people — their lives had been laced into yours for years. Work. Sleep. Discover. Repeat. The way your names felt normal together. The easy sarcasm. The shared silence in moments like this. You didn’t know what it would be like without them.  Maybe you weren’t meant to know. Your pod blinked green. Final sequence activated. 

You stood in front of it, heart slamming once, sharply, against your ribs. 

“You’ll be inserted at 03:12 AM, August 9th, 2019,” Dr. Han said beside you. “Just outside the village’s boundary. Our records end there. No satellite returns after that date. No digital trails. Just fog.” 

You nodded. 

“And remember,” he added, “observe, record, don’t interfere.” He paused. “And don’t stay longer than you have to.” You stepped into the pod. The door hissed closed behind you. Inside: darkness. Soft blue lights blinked around your headrest. A countdown began in the corner. 

00:00:10  00:00:09  00:00:08...  Your breathing slowed. Fingers tight on the seat grips.  00:00:03  00:00:02...  You thought of nothing.  00:00:01  ENGAGING TEMPORAL LAUNCH. 

Everything went white. 

You woke up choking on fog. 

Your knees hit grass first, body staggering out of the collapsed time pod buried beneath undergrowth. The pod disintegrated on schedule — technology melted into mist the second your boots touched this era. You stood slowly, the chill biting through your fabricated 2010s-era jacket. A navy hoodie. Worn boots. Phone model synced to local time tech. Fake ID in your pocket. History-approved.  And ahead of you — trees. Low mist curling over quiet fields. One winding road in the dark. 

“03:14,” you whispered, checking the time. You started walking. It didn’t take long to reach the village. Just a few winding turns along cracked pavement and flickering streetlamps — too dim for a place this small. It looked normal at first glance. Houses with tiled roofs. Wind chimes. A distant dog barking. But the silence? Too heavy. Too complete. Not a single radio. Not one human voice. 

You followed the map projection in your eye lens. Your identity here: transfer student, staying with a distant relative for the summer before university. Your cover was clean. “Blend in. Observe. Don’t interfere.” Dr. Han’s words echoed. 

You reached the village center. A bakery. A post office. A small clinic. It was beautiful — in a nostalgic, sleepy sort of way. You spotted an inn. Two stories. Wooden steps. A soft yellow porch light still glowing. You knocked once. A moment later, an older woman opened the door, eyes squinting at your unfamiliar face. 

“Ah… you must be the niece, right? From Seoul?” You smiled, polite. "Yes, ma’am.”  “Room’s upstairs. Already made it up for you.”  With that, you leave to your room. 

August 10, 2019.

The village was quieter in the morning. Not dead. Just... slow. 

You walked past the corner bakery — the one that smelled like burnt sugar and citrus. Past a row of mailboxes that hadn’t been touched in a week. You weren’t sure if people here hated bills or just trusted too easily. Notebook in your jacket. Identity chip syncing your steps to the research log in your neural band. 

Day 2.  Civilian behavior: consistent.  Average activity start time: 6:53 AM  No sign of temporal noise. No anomalies. 

You smiled and bowed slightly to an old man sweeping the steps outside a shop. He gave you a nod in return. Eyes kind, but faintly puzzled — like he couldn’t remember when you arrived, but accepted you anyway. That was the first pattern you noticed. People here forgot details fast. But nothing big enough to ring alarms. Just enough to feel like déjà vu. 

You took a seat on the raised edge of a well in the town center, glancing down at the still water.  Your eye-lens scanned your surroundings. Kids biking. A woman hanging sheets in perfect rows. Market stalls setting up. 

Everything looked normal. Back at the inn, the old woman handed you a basket. 

“Bread for the east field home. The family that lives up near the woods. They get their supplies late.” 

“East field?” you asked, trying to remember the map. 

“Take the long path. The house is old, but someone’s always there.” 

“Someone?” 

She nodded. “A quiet boy. Rarely speaks. Keeps to himself. Been around longer than most here.” 

You didn’t ask more. Just took the basket and walked. And as you stepped onto the eastern trail, into the trees and shifting light… You didn’t know yet that you were walking toward the beginning. Of the end. 

The path to the east house was longer than expected. 

Thick trees bent overhead like old, quiet watchers. The air here was different — cooler, touched with something metallic. You adjusted the basket in your hands. You finally reached the gate — rusted iron, half open. A path lined with overgrown grass stretched up to a traditional hanok-style house. Wooden. Quiet. Heavy with stillness. 

You stepped through, gently. No animals. No birds. Just that strange silence again. You knocked once. Then twice. No answer. You were about to leave when the door creaked open. And there he was. 

He looked like he didn’t belong in 2019. Or any year. 

Dressed simply — white cotton shirt, black slacks, sleeves slightly rolled up. But there was something... too elegant about the way he held the door. Something slow and precise. Still. His eyes — dark, unfathomable — landed on yours. 

For a full second, he didn’t say a word. Neither did you. “Delivery,” you said softly, lifting the basket. 

“Right,” he replied after a pause, voice smooth, almost melodic. “They said you’d be coming.” 

You held the basket out, but he didn’t take it immediately. Instead, he studied you. Not rudely. Not even intently. Just... curiously. Like a puzzle he couldn’t quite read. Or a scent he wasn’t supposed to follow. The moment you stepped through the trees, he felt it. The beat beneath your skin. The warmth. Your blood had a scent — not strong, not desperate like others. 

Sweet. Calming. Clean. He hadn’t fed in days. But you made the ache stir. “You live here alone?” you asked. 

He nodded. “For a while now.” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

He didn’t smile. But he didn’t look away. 

“Most people say it’s empty.” 

You tilted your head. “Are you?” 

That made something shift in his gaze — not amusement exactly, but the ghost of something near it. “Not today,” he said finally. 

He took the basket, fingers brushing yours for just half a second. His skin was cool. Not cold. But noticeably not warm. “Thank you,” he said, stepping back. “Be careful going back. The light fades fast out here.” 

You turned to leave, but your instincts tugged once. “What’s your name?” you asked over your shoulder. 

A pause. 

“Sunghoon,” he said quietly. 

You nodded once. “I’m Y/N.” Another pause. “I know,” he said. 

And then the door closed. As you walked back down the path, heart steady but hands tingling from where his touched yours, you couldn’t shake one thing: There had been no heartbeat behind that door. Just silence. You don’t notice someone- Sunghoon, watching you from his window as you walk back. 

And that, that night few people go missing because Sunghoon, couldn’t handle his hunger for blood. Not when he was reminded of how desperate he was to taste something sweet- something pure like your blood- like you. He can’t bite you, not yet. So, he resorted to his usual way, biting the villagers. One by one.  

It was quiete big village when Sunghoon first step foot in there. 2010. The year Sunghoon decided to enter into the huge village, leaving behind memories of his previous life- the one where everyone treated him like the monster he was. He didn’t like it one bit. So? He ended it. Bit and killed everyone who called him a monster.  

Leaving behind memories and people wasn’t new to him. He’s been like that since he was turned- since 527 years. It's what he’s best at other than sucking peoples’ blood. Having spent many years on this planet made him discard unwanted memories for good.  

And maybe that’s why he never truly loved anyone. It’s not because he isn’t capable of it. It's because he knows that they won't stick around. Not when they find out what he is, not when they leave this world entirely. Also, because, he never truly found someone who made him feel things. Feel things which are foreign to him- Desire.  

Desire for blood? Thats more like filling his hunger. Desire is what he felt when he saw you. If you ever told Sunghoon that he’d yearn for a girl he met once, he’d scoff, shaking his head. That can never happen, not when he's been on this earth for more than 500 years. He knows how to control his feelings- it was easy for him because he didn't have any feelings in the first place.  

But why is that the moment he saw you, heard you- your hearbeat, your blood pulsing in your throat, smelled the scent of you, he wanted to make you his?  

Its funny, really. This whatever weird feeling he has in his stomach is new to him. Perhaps he’s hungry for your blood? No. He’s hungry for you.  

You are here to find out how the village disappeared. Maybe you do find out that he’s the reason for the mass disappearance. But will your heart obey to leave behind everything that you've uncovered here? Leave behind someone, who is the sole reason why the disappearance happened in the first place? 

Only the future holds the answer. Maybe the present? You truly don't know, not when the time’s twisted and you are spiralling in it. 

August 14, 2019. 

You weren’t planning to run into him again. You were just taking the trail by the lake. Collecting audio samples. Watching people prep for the lantern festival — all smiles and paper crafts, sunlight catching on water like glass. But then there he was. Standing near the edge of the hill that overlooked the lake. Not moving. Just… watching it. Like the water itself had said something only he could hear. 

You almost didn’t say anything. But he turned to you first. 

“You walk this path often?” 

His voice was still soft. Still slow. Like everything he said had already passed through a hundred filters before reaching you. 

“Not really,” you said, stepping closer. “But it’s quiet. Good for thinking.” 

“Thinking,” he echoed, like it was a foreign word. “You do that a lot?” 

You smiled. “Occupational hazard.” 

“Ah,” he said. “Let me guess. You’re a writer.” 

“Wrong.” 

“A scientist?” 

You blinked. A beat too long. 

“Why that guess?” 

“Your eyes,” he said. 

“What about them?” 

“They look like they’re always dissecting things. Even me.” 

He turned back to the lake after that, leaving your thoughts spiraling slightly behind him. The sun was dipping lower, casting light through the trees. A warm breeze stirred the ends of your hair, and for once, you didn’t feel like recording anything. Just being here. 

“Why do you live so far from the village?” you asked. 

“They forget me better this way.” 

You frowned. “That’s sad.” 

“Not really.” 

“When people forget you… you stop needing to prove you exist.” 

You turned to him then — not just listening but really seeing him. The distance in his eyes. The calm sadness he wore like second skin. 

“You don’t want to be remembered?” 

“I didn’t say that,” he replied. “I just don’t mind being forgotten.” 

A few kids laughed somewhere nearby, running with paper lanterns. You looked down at your shoes. “You’re hard to forget, you know.” It slipped out before you could stop it. He didn’t respond for a moment. Then, so quietly: “So are you.” 

Neither of you moved. The wind stilled. The air felt... charged. Like time paused. Just for this. 

Then— “You should go,” he said gently.

“It gets colder here after sunset.” He wasn’t pushing you away. But he was. And that strange ache bloomed behind your ribs without warning. You turned to go, steps slow. And as you walked, you felt his eyes on your back the entire time. 

August 18, 2019. 

It was supposed to be a short walk. You’d been gathering weather data, checking tree patterns near the edge of the forest. The innkeeper said the rain wouldn’t come until morning. But the sky didn’t listen. It started with a single drop. Then another. 

Within seconds, it was falling fast — fat, cold drops smacking against your shoulders, soaking through your hoodie in a matter of moments. You pulled the fabric up over your head and turned to head back — but the path was already slick, the trees pressing in closer, and fog began to roll over the field like a breath held too long. 

“Seriously?” you muttered, shivering. That’s when you saw him. Standing just under the crooked edge of an old pavilion by the hill — motionless, dry, and completely unbothered by the storm.  Sunghoon. 

You blinked, surprised. "You're always just… appearing out of nowhere.” 

“You're always walking into places you shouldn't be alone,” he replied calmly, eyes tracking the water running down your cheek. 

You hesitated. Then stepped under the structure, chest heaving slightly from the sudden cold. Your shoulders were soaked. Hair clinging to your face. Hands trembling. He watched you quietly. “You're freezing.” 

You gave a weak smile. “That tends to happen when it rains on humans.” 

He didn’t return it. Instead, he removed his outer jacket and handed it over without a word. You stared at it. “I’m already wet. You don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” 

You took it slowly. It was still warm. 

You slipped it on. It smelled like night air and something faintly old — like worn books and clean linen. Not the scent of someone who lived alone in a dusty house. 

The silence stretched. 

Raindrops tapping the roof like a ticking clock. 

Your breath fogged the air. 

His didn’t. 

“Why were you even out here?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer immediately. 

Then: 

“I thought you’d come this way.” 

You turned your head sharply. “You were… waiting for me?” 

He didn’t flinch. 

“Something about the sky felt wrong. I knew you’d ignore it.” 

“You don’t even know me.” 

“I know your pattern.” 

That shut you up for a moment. 

And somehow... warmed you. 

More than the jacket did. 

Your teeth chattered softly. You turned away, embarrassed. 

Suddenly, you felt something. 

His fingers — gently, lightly — tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. 

You froze. 

“You should be more careful,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the rain. “This place doesn’t forgive softness.” 

You looked up at him then. 

And he was already too close. 

Not touching. 

Not reaching. 

Just there. 

And for a second, you wondered what it would be like if he leaned in just a little more. 

“Do you always talk like that?” you whispered, lips parted. “Like you’re centuries old?” 

He gave the faintest smile like he knows something you don’t. 

The rain kept falling. The sky stayed grey. 

And your heartbeat too loudly in your ears. 

You didn’t ask him why his hands were cold even though he felt warm. 

You didn’t ask why he never blinked when he looked at you. 

The rain kept falling. 

And he stood there, completely still, listening to the rhythm of her blood, her breath, her heart... 

And all he could think was: 

Don’t touch her again.  Don’t want her.  Don’t let her see the monster inside you. 

But it was already too late. 

Because for the first time in years, he wanted something enough to lose control. 

And it was you. 

The rain had stopped, but the night still smelled like it. 

You walked slowly. 

Beside him. 

His jacket still hung over your shoulders, and you hadn’t given it back. He hadn’t asked. 

“You didn’t have to walk me home,” you said softly, watching your boots splash through a shallow puddle. 

“I know.” 

He wasn’t smiling, but his tone was warm. Like he wanted to say, I just wanted more time with you, but didn’t know how. 

The village lights shimmered faint in the distance — soft and yellow, like floating lanterns. 

It felt like you were the only two people in the world. 

“Do you always spend your nights out there?” you asked. 

“Sometimes. I like the quiet.” 

“Most people don’t,” you said. “Silence makes them uncomfortable.” 

He glanced at you. 

“What about you?” 

You thought about it. 

“I think silence is the only time people stop pretending.” 

He actually smiled at that. Just a little. The kind that tugged one corner of his mouth — barely visible, but real. 

“What do you do all day?” you asked, curious now. “No job? No classes?” 

“I read,” he said. “Walk. Watch.” 

“That sounds like what I do, too.” 

“You watch more than most people,” he replied, side-eying you. “Always observing. Analyzing.” 

You raised a brow. “Are you calling me creepy?” 

“No,” he said. “Just... different.” 

You looked away to hide your smile. 

“Is that your way of saying I’m weird?” 

“No,” he repeated, slower this time. “It’s my way of saying I see you.” 

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, trying to recover. “What did you want to be when you were little?” 

He didn’t answer right away. 

“I don’t remember,” he said finally. “It’s been a long time since I was little.” 

You turned to him, blinking. “How old are you, Sunghoon?” 

He looked at you. Really looked. 

Then smiled like he knew he shouldn’t say the next thing — but said it anyway. 

“Older than I look.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer.” 

“It’s the only one I’ve got.” 

You reached the inn gate. 

The lantern outside flickered faintly in the breeze.  Neither of you moved. 

The air was warmer now. The clouds had parted just enough for moonlight to wash over the steps. 

You stood there — his jacket still on your shoulders, the scent of rain still on your skin, and his eyes fixed gently on you. 

“Good night, Sunghoon,” you said finally, stepping up to the door. 

“Good night, Y/N.” 

You turned the handle. 

Just before stepping inside, you hesitated. 

“You never told me what you like,” you said over your shoulder. 

He tilted his head slightly. “Like?” 

“Hobbies. Music. Favorite food. Normal things.” 

Another pause. 

Then: 

“The sound of rain,” he said. “Books with no endings. And people who don’t run away.” 

You met his eyes. 

And something about the way he said it made your heart ache. 

You didn’t know why. 

But you didn’t look away. 

Not for a long moment. 

Then finally, you stepped inside. 

And closed the door. 

August 20, 2019.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. 

Just returning a jacket. 

Just a polite gesture. 

Just good manners. 

So why did your pulse stutter when the house came into view? 

The same tall trees. The same crooked path. The same quiet. 

You climbed the short stone steps and raised your hand to knock — but before you could, the door opened. 

He was already there. 

Like he’d been waiting. 

Or like he’d heard you coming long before you got close. 

“You came back,” he said, voice low, like sunlight through fog. 

“Just to return this,” you said quickly, lifting the folded jacket. 

“Of course.” 

But he didn’t take it. 

Instead, he stepped aside. 

“Do you want to come in?” 

You blinked. 

“Is that okay?” 

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” 

You stepped inside. 

The air was cool, but not cold. The interior still had that strange untouched feeling — like a photo frozen in time. Wood floors. A low bookshelf. A kettle on the counter, untouched. 

You walked slowly, setting the jacket on the nearest chair. 

“You live like a ghost,” you said softly. 

He raised a brow. “I’m neat.” 

“You’re ancient,” you teased. 

He smirked faintly. “So you’ve said.” 

You turned toward the bookshelf — rows of old spines and journals, some in languages you didn’t recognize. One looked handwritten. Another... burned around the edges. 

“These don’t look like they’re from a village library.” 

“They’re not.” 

“So what are they?” 

“Pieces of me,” he said. 

You paused, looking back. 

His expression didn’t change, but there was something fragile in his stillness. 

You let the question go. 

“Tea?” he asked suddenly, already reaching for the kettle. 

“You drink tea?” 

“No. But you do.” 

He made it quietly. Smooth movements. No wasted motion. 

He handed you the mug and sat across from you, careful, like he was making sure there was enough distance. 

“Do people visit you often?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the cup. 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“Because they forget me,” he said. “Or… I let them.” 

“But you didn’t want me to forget you?” you asked quietly. 

His eyes met yours. 

Dark. Unreadable. 

“I didn’t plan on you remembering at all.” 

You blinked. “What changed?” 

He stared at the steam curling between you. 

Then said, without blinking: 

“You smiled at me.” 

The silence stretched. 

The weight of it made your chest feel tight. 

Your fingers tightened around the mug. 

“Why do you always say things like that?” you whispered. 

“Like what?” 

“Like it means something. And then you never explain.” 

He stood up then, slowly — walking toward the window, looking out at the trees. 

“Because I’ve learned that explaining doesn’t stop people from leaving.” 

“So you just... stay mysterious?” 

“No,” he said, without turning around. “I stay safe.” 

You stood too. Quiet steps. 

He didn’t move as you stopped beside him, just far enough for the space between your hands to hum. 

“What are you so afraid of, Sunghoon?” you asked, not accusing — just soft. 

A pause. 

Then finally: 

“That if you knew the truth about me… you'd stop smiling at all.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“Nothing. Don’t think too much.” He says. 

You didn’t leave. 

You just stood beside him. 

And for a moment, the silence between you wasn’t heavy. 

It was tender. 

“You okay?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer. 

Didn’t trust himself to speak. 

Because right now, he could feel it rising — that burn behind his eyes, the pressure in his jaw, the ancient ache in his throat. 

The want. 

Not just to feed. 

To claim. 

“I think you should go,” he said, voice tight. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“No.” 

“Then—” 

“Please.” 

His back was turned now.  He couldn’t let her see his face.  Not when his eyes were beginning to glow. Not when his fangs had started to edge down. 

He bit the inside of his cheek — hard enough to draw blood. Let the pain steady him. Anchor him. 

“Sunghoon? Is something wrong? You can trust me- I trust you.”  

But all he said was: 

“I don’t trust myself.” 

You stared at his back for a long moment. 

Then quietly… you left. 

The door shut behind you with a soft click. 

And he stood there in the quiet, eyes still burning, heart raging inside a chest that shouldn’t have had one anymore. 

August 21, 2019. 

You went to the library to check the village’s records.  

To look for any book, any magazine, any piece of information that would help you get a better insight about the village’s roots.  

You found a series of census logs tucked into a low cabinet—records of the village’s population numbers and names dating back to the 1900s. Faded, but surprisingly intact. 

And that’s when you saw it. 

A pattern. 

In 2010, the population was 528.  In 2012, it dropped to 413.  By 2015: 290.  2017: 178. 

No official records of why.  No mass migration.  No natural disaster.  No illness outbreak. 

Just... names disappearing. 

Not all at once.  Not dramatically. 

But slowly.  Like something was taking them. One by one. 

You scanned the reports harder now. 

Looking for causes. Deaths. Relocations. 

But most names just had one word stamped across the last column: 

“Unrecorded.” 

You slammed the binder shut and sat back. 

Your chest felt tight. 

You looked around the library. The light felt colder. The silence heavier. 

This is getting nowhere. Rather than the doubts clearing, more questions are surfacing. Too many questions. Too less information. You doubt you are even eligible to solve this mystery. Maybe Dr.Han realizes he made a mistake choosing you once you return. You wonder how the others are doing. Are they going through the same difficulties?  

You shake your head as if it shakes away the insecure thoughts creeping up. You need to focus. On this village. The people. Everyone here seems normal except... Sunghoon. 

He always seemed to appear when no one else was around. 

Your fingers curled against the cover of the book. 

No. Don’t jump to conclusions. That doesn’t mean anything. 

And yet… 

Something in your gut whispered otherwise. 

Still, when the sun began to set— 

You found yourself walking toward the hill. 

Toward him. 

Carrying questions you couldn’t ask yet. 

And a heart that didn’t want answers- the real ones.  

The sky was painted in soft blue fading to lavender.  The last light of the sun had just dipped behind the mountains, leaving a glow that shimmered across the tall grass. 

You stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the village lights far below.  Everything was quiet. 

Except your thoughts. 

Except him. 

Sunghoon stood beside you — close, not quite touching. Hands in his pockets. Eyes on the horizon. 

“You always find the quietest places,” you said softly. 

“I think they find me.” 

You turned to him, trying to read that impossible expression on his face. 

“You always talk like that. Like there’s a whole world in your head and you’re just… giving me scraps.” 

“I don’t mean to,” he said. “I just forget how to be anything else.” 

You took a breath. 

“Then remind yourself. Just for tonight. Just for me.” 

He looked at you then. 

Really looked. 

And for the first time, he didn’t look away. 

“You scare me,” he said quietly. 

That made your chest tighten. 

“Why?” 

“Because you make me want to stay.” 

The wind brushed through the grass. 

Your heart was too loud. Your breath too soft. 

He stepped closer. 

His hand, trembling just slightly, reached up and cupped your cheek — gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched too hard. 

His thumb brushed under your eye, then trailed down to your jaw. 

“Say something,” he whispered. 

You didn’t. 

You leaned in instead. 

And he met you there. 

The kiss was nothing like you imagined. 

It wasn’t rushed.  It wasn’t wild. 

It was slow. 

Like two people learning what it meant to feel alive again. 

His lips were cool at first — like the wind before rain — but they softened against yours. Moved with aching care. Like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth and trying not to fall apart doing it. 

You felt his breath catch. 

Felt his hand slide into your hair. 

Felt your knees go weak when he deepened the kiss — still gentle, still hesitant, but full of something you didn’t have a name for. 

And then— 

He pulled away. 

Fast. 

Like he’d caught fire. 

His eyes were wide.  Not with lust. Not even guilt. 

With fear. 

“I shouldn’t have—” 

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, reaching for him. 

He stepped back. 

“No. This was a mistake.” 

“Why are you doing this again?”  “Every time I get close, you push me away. Why?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Not with words. 

But his face… 

That expression? 

It looked like someone who just tasted something too good.  Something too human.  Something that made him forget what he was. 

“Because I can’t be the reason you get hurt,” he finally said. 

And then he turned away. 

Leaving you alone with a kiss that still burned on your lips, and a silence that felt heavier than ever. 

August 26, 2019. 

You ignored him after that. Turned your head away whenever he got into. Looked away first when you both made eye contact. Avoided him when he came to apologize the very next day of your kiss.  

Not cause you hate him. You wish you did but no. You remember what Dr.Han said, “Observe. Record. don’t interfere.” You can't risk everything just cause of some stupid, weird feelings that you have. No. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of your case. This isn't right.  

Youre altering time, you should do it wisely, not recklessly.  

And so, you did what you thought was best. Ignore. Distance. Observe. 

Or so, you thought.  

You weren’t expecting to run into him. 

But of course you did. 

He was leaning against the side wall of the bakery, half-hidden in the shade, like always. Silent. Watching. 

He didn’t call out. 

Didn’t wave. 

But you felt it — the shift in air when his gaze hit you. That quiet weight of his presence. 

You almost kept walking. 

Almost. 

But then— 

“Y/N.” 

His voice was low. Not cold. Just… tired. 

You turned after a moment of hesitation. 

Met his eyes. 

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked. 

Simple question. 

But it landed sharp. 

You didn’t answer right away. 

“I’ve just been… busy.” 

“You’ve seen me.” 

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk.” 

“Don’t do that,” he said, stepping forward. “Don’t turn it around like it’s me.” 

You blinked. “I’m not—” 

“You haven’t looked at me in five days.” 

His tone wasn’t angry.  It was quiet. Steady. Too steady. 

“You smiled at me one night,” he said, “and then the next morning, it’s like I didn’t exist.” 

“Sunghoon—” 

“And I thought—”  He paused. Ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.  “I thought maybe you needed space. But then I saw you with that guy. That tall one from the orchard. And you were laughing. Just… laughing. Like everything’s normal.” 

You looked away. 

He let the silence settle. 

Then finally: 

“It hurt.” 

That was it. Just that. 

Not possessive. Not demanding. Just real. 

You didn’t know what to say. So, you said the only truth you had: 

“I’m scared, Sunghoon.” 

He looked at you for a long time. 

“Of me?” 

“Of not knowing what’s happening. Of what this village is hiding. Of what you’re hiding.” 

You stepped back slightly, instinctively. Not far. 

But enough. 

His eyes dropped to the space between you.  Then back up. 

“Do you think I’d ever hurt you?” 

You hesitated. 

Then, quietly: 

“I don’t know.” 

That broke something in him. 

You saw it. In his eyes. 

Not rage. 

Just sadness. 

“I wouldn’t,” he said softly. “Not even if I wanted to.” 

You turned back and left without replying, unable to look into his face or even talk to him. 

September 5, 2019. 

You shouldn’t have gone looking. 

You told yourself you weren’t.  That you just needed air.  That the trail by the forest was peaceful this time of day. 

But really? You missed him. 

And you couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you. Not even if I wanted to.” 

It looped in your mind for days. Through sleep. Through silence. Through guilt. 

You didn’t give him an answer. So, you were going to. 

You were going to find him and say you’re not sure what this is, but you’re willing to try. That you believe he’s good. That you want to believe it, even if you’re scared. 

But then— 

You saw it. 

You heard something first. 

A low sound. Guttural. Like a growl tucked beneath a breath. 

And then a figure stumbling — just ahead. At the edge of the trees. A man. Drunk? Hurt? 

And beside him—  Holding him up— 

Was Sunghoon. 

Or… something that used to be him 

His head was tilted.  His lips pressed just beneath the man’s jaw.  His hands clutched the man’s shoulders too tightly.  And his eyes— 

They glowed. 

Not fully.  Just enough for the shadows to catch it. 

Red. Dim. Inhuman. 

You saw his mouth open.  Saw the flash of fang. 

And then— 

The man sagged. 

Like air had left him. 

You froze. 

Your heart punched against your ribs. 

He stared.  Still half-shadowed.  Blood on his mouth. 

He stepped forward. 

“Y/N.” 

You backed up. 

Didn’t speak. 

Didn’t breathe. 

Your eyes wide. Your expression already saying everything your voice couldn’t. 

Fear. 

The kind that wasn’t subtle. 

The kind you couldn’t take back. 

“No,” he said quietly. “No, don’t—please don’t look at me like that.” 

He wiped at his mouth. Quickly. Clumsily. 

“I can explain. It’s not—” 

You flinched when he stepped closer. 

That did it. 

He stopped. 

His hands dropped to his sides. 

And something in him… wilted. 

“So, this is it?” he whispered. 

His voice wasn’t cold.  Wasn’t sharp.  It was just… empty. 

You didn’t say anything. 

Couldn’t. 

You turned. 

And ran. 

And behind you, the last thing you heard was him whispering into the night: 

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” 

You rushed back home and stumbled in. 

You quickly went to your bedroom, opening the drawers and pulled out your logbook. 

You sat on the floor beside your bed after grabbing a marker.  

The pages were filled with sketches. Maps. Observations.  And now? 

Scribbled question marks. Shaky handwriting. A timeline you couldn’t look at anymore. 

2010 — population: 528  2012 — 413  2015 — 290  2017 — 178  2019 — barely 60 left. 

No disease.  No evacuation orders.  No record of where they went. 

But you knew now. 

You saw it. 

His eyes. His fangs.  The man in the forest, half-drained and limp in his arms. 

You knew. 

And the truth clawed at your throat like it didn’t want to be swallowed. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he had said. 

You remembered his voice.  Too quiet.  Too pained to be fake. 

But it didn’t matter now, did it? 

Because while he was giving you flowers and walking you home… 

He was feeding on the people who welcomed you with tea and stories. 

You closed your eyes. 

Your hands were trembling. 

You remembered the first time you saw him. 

How unreal he looked in the moonlight.  How safe you felt beside him. 

How stupid that was now. 

Was any of it real? 

The kiss. The laughter. The jacket he left folded on your bed. 

Or were you just the next name on his list? 

The next girl to get too close? 

Were you just another pawn in his game?  

Whatever it was, you shouldn't have gotten close with him. Shouldn't have tried to interfere. You shouldn't have done it and God, you regret it.  

And for the first time in years…  You cried. 

Not from fear.  But from heartbreak. 

If only you backed down that day on the hill. If only you shouldn't have let him close to you. If only... 

September 7, 2019. 

After that day, you didn't leave your room. 

You didn't go out, the fear of him catching you always haunting your mind whenever you reach for the door handle. 

And weirdly enough, you should feel better, you really should but why did you feel... empty?  

He’s a monster! He kills innocent people, hes a vampire. But why didn't the fact alone scare you? Why were you craving for his presence? Why were you thinking about the moments you've spent together? This isn't even real. Its past, you weren't even born at this time period. You shouldn't be feeling things you aren't supposed to. 

But you can't deny the fact that your heart aches for his presence- for him.  

But you don't have time for this. Not when you have two days on your watch. Two days before everything goes back to normal, hopefully. And so, you push aside your feelings saying the time is playing tricks on you and start writing the report.  

All of your log entries, now are typed and kept in digital doc by you. You enter the log entries, from day one to the day you discovered the root cause of all of this- the dissapearance. You procrastinated too much while typing them in, thinking about all the wonderful days you’ve spent with locals- with him. 

But all of this isn't real, at the end of the day. You don't belong here- you shouldn't. This isn't your timeline. This is not your story. This isn't the reality you are supposed to live in and experience. This is just a case that you've got assigned to. It's your duty. And you fulfilled it by finding out the reason. And this is where you shall end it. End of this chapter, end of this case and end of him.  

September 9, 2019.  

Today is the day. 

You pack your bag, filling it with the things you bought and the things you are taking back to your timeline. The memories, the events and the adventures.  

There wasn't a single second you haven't thought about him. But this is it. You have to say your goodbyes.  

You can't warn the others, who haven't yet got bitten by Sunghoon. Because as dr.Han said, “Don't interfere.”  

Youve already made the mistake of not listening to him and crossed the boundary and faced the consequences. You aren't going to do it again. Because at the end of the day, its fate. It already happened. You can't change it, not even when you go back in time. Because what's written, is written. If changed, you are bound to face the consequences.  

History can't be re-written.  

And so, with that, you leave.  

You stood by the terminal light beam.  

Delta 12’s jump pulse flickering through the mist. 

Your bag beside you. Your heart heavy with no one in the future world- the real world would understand or know of.  

You turned back one last time towards the village. 

Thanking it for everything it gave you- thanking it for giving Sunghoon. 

Who'll be remembered as the passing wind and the falling of leaves by you.  

And when you jumped- 

The light swallowed you whole. 

And in the same breath,  

You were gone.  

July 22, 2090. 

You opened your eyes. 

The jump light was fading.  The room around you was cold. White. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache. 

You were home. 

But it didn’t feel like it. 

Not yet. 

Your bag was still at your side. Your fingers still trembling. Your body still in two places — the sterile floors of the lab… and the moss-soft grass beneath his feet. 

You didn’t even notice the door sliding open until you heard the softest gasp. 

“Y/N?” 

You turned. 

And there she was. 

Mira.  Her braid was undone, her coat slung over one arm, her eyes red — like she’d either just woken up… or hadn’t slept since the moment she jumped back. 

She stared at you. 

Then smiled. Weakly. 

“God, it’s you.” 

You couldn’t speak. 

You didn’t have to. 

She crossed the space between you in three quick steps and pulled you into the kind of hug you didn’t realize you needed until her arms wrapped around you. 

You felt her chest shudder. 

You were crying too. 

Soon, the others trickled in. 

Taehyun — still composed, but his eyes softer than usual.  Yuvi — who dropped her bag the second she saw you, crashing into the hug with a half-laugh, half-sob. Jungwon — who just stood by the door for a long time, taking all of you in like he didn’t believe you were real until that moment. 

No one said much at first. 

They just… stood there. 

Five people who had faced time itself. 

And came back with hearts a little heavier. 

Eyes a little older. 

It felt nice. Seeing everyone’s familiar faces after being drowned in unfamiliar faces who don't even exist in reality.  

Finally, Mira sniffed and said, voice shaking: 

“I missed you guys.” 

Yuvi let out a teary laugh. 

“I didn’t realize how much till now.” 

Jungwon gave a small nod, blinking fast. 

Taehyun just whispered: 

“You’re all here.” 

You wiped your face and smiled. 

Soft. Quiet. Real. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’re here.” 

You all look at each other. A moment of silence. As if you guys are finally taking in and registering everyone’s presence. And then, you all hugged. A big group hug filled with emotions which arent said loud but felt. And finally, you felt like you are back home.  

September 11, 2019.  

The room smelled of old circuits and sterile air.  The walls glowed faint blue, humming with quiet energy. 

You sat where you always had —  Same table.  Same lights.  Same white jackets. 

But nothing was the same anymore. 

Not the silence.  Not the weight in everyone’s eyes. 

Not the version of you that existed before. 

The door slid open. 

Dr. Han stepped in, shoulders straighter than usual, expression unreadable. 

“Good morning.” 

He stood at the edge of the circular table, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning each of you. 

“You’ve all returned safely,” he said. “On record, your missions were successful. But the records don’t matter if we don’t understand why.” 

He took a breath. 

“So, let’s talk about what really happened.” 

Dr. Han looked at Yuvi first.  

“Yuvi. March 2311. Seoul. What caused the blackout?” 

Yuvi didn’t hesitate.  But her voice was softer than usual. 

“It wasn’t just data loss,” she said. “It was deliberate. The two largest tech giants—SolarCore and NeuraStream—were engaged in a silent war for memory control. They each tried to overwrite the other’s data… and in doing so, they wiped everyone’s.” 

A pause. 

“The blackout wasn’t a glitch. It was a battle. One that made the world forget six months — and made the companies forget what humanity was.” 

Dr. Han only nodded. 

“Mira. 1652. The scribe’s ink.” 

Mira folded her hands. 

“The man wasn’t mad. The ‘sky-born woman of light’ — she was a time displacer like us. From the future. Possibly one of the early, undocumented tests.” 

She met Dr. Han’s eyes. 

“The ink? It was our ink. Synthetic. Used in lab reports.” 

Silence fell. 

Dr. Han blinked slowly. “You’re saying the anomaly… was ours.” 

“Yes,” Mira whispered. “We caused the myth.” 

“You two. Northern Territories. Duplicated villages.” 

Taehyun glanced at Jungwon. Jungwon gave a tiny nod. 

“There were two villages,” Jungwon said. “Identical. Same people. Same dogs. Same newspapers.” 

“Except,” Taehyun added, “They existed in overlapping timelines. One was five minutes behind the other. A permanent sync lag caused by a failed early prototype of time field testing.” 

Jungwon finished it quietly. 

“It was human error. A time scar. We tried to erase one. But they both kept living… until one finally collapsed.” 

“Y/N,” Dr. Han said, turning to you. “The village of Myeon-ri. The one that vanished without cause.” 

Your fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table. 

You could still feel the wind there. Still hear his voice. 

You slid the chip forward. 

“There was no disease. No mass migration. No disaster. It was slow. Intentional.” 

You looked up. 

“A predator lived there. Not wild. Human-shaped. Possibly centuries old. A vampire, by older terms. He fed carefully, spaced apart. But eventually, the numbers dropped too far.” 

The others stared. 

You didn’t flinch. 

“He didn’t want the village gone. But he couldn’t stop. And no one remembered the ones who vanished. They were erased — from memory, from databases. Like they never existed.” 

“Vampire?” Dr.Han questioned. 

“Vampire.” You confirmed.  

Dr. Han asked, quietly: 

“Did he know who you were?” 

A pause. 

You met his gaze. 

“No.” 

A beat. 

“But I think I knew who he used to be.” 

You lied. Of course he knows you. He knows the woman he fell for the first time. He knows the woman who was his first ever kiss. 

You didn't tell them. You didn't to protect him and in a way, protect yourself too. 

Dr. Han stepped back. He looked at each of you — not as scientists, but as people who had seen too much. 

“You all did what centuries of historians couldn’t. You brought back truth.” 

He turned toward the exit, then paused. 

“Take the week off. Rest. File clean versions by the end of the month. We’ll… figure out what to do with the rest.” 

The door hissed closed behind him. 

And you all sat in silence.  Hearts still somewhere in another time. 

The streets are quiet at 2 a.m. 

Neon signs buzz in blues and pinks.  Artificial rain shimmers above, falling against projection domes that keep your coat dry. 

You pass a street musician playing a slow guitar. 

The song is unfamiliar.  But it feels like him. 

Like a song you might’ve danced to on his porch.  Or hummed under your breath while he walked you home. 

Your throat tightens. 

You sit on a bench, ignoring your holopad as it pings with follow-up requests from Dr. Han. 

You can’t open the file.  You can’t even look at his name on the case label. 

Your hand slowly reaches into your coat pocket. 

The jacket he gave you is long gone. 

But you still have one thing. 

A pressed leaf. 

Red. From that tree near the hill.  Where he waited for you every evening.  Where he said nothing — just smiled — like you were his favorite moment of the day. 

You hold the leaf to your chest. 

And for a second…  you close your eyes. 

And pretend he’s sitting beside you. 

Back in the lab, the report still sits unsaved.  You’d written everything except the truth. 

“He didn’t follow me back.” 

But your chest burns with what you didn’t say. 

I think he wanted to.  I think I wanted him to.  And I think I left the part of me that believed in forever… in his hands. 

You missed him. You looked for him in everything. The wind, the leaves, the clouds, the time, everything. And somewhere back in 2019, sunghoon feels the weight of your absence.  

Sunghoon didn't really think it'd affect him that much, but it did. He was helpless when he didn't find you. Asked everyone, searched everywhere but there wasn't a trace of you, there wasn't a thing left behind you. And God, did he miss you.  

The silence after you was worse than the centuries before you. 

You were only here a month —  But the air still tasted like you.  The breeze still moved like the hem of your coat. 

He stood by the river. 

The same one you almost slipped near.  The one where he caught your hand. 

You used to laugh here. 

Now it was empty. 

And so was he. 

His throat burned.  The ache that had quieted in your presence — like your scent tamed the storm in his blood — now returned with wildfire in his veins. 

He hadn’t fed in days.  He didn’t want anyone else. 

He wanted you. 

"Y/N..." he whispered, though the name felt like poison now. 

He tried to hold back.  He really, truly did. 

But you were gone. 

And he had nothing left to prove he was still human. 

The next night, they found the baker's house empty.  Then the woman who sold herbs.  Then the elder by the hill. 

No one saw what took them. 

And Sunghoon? 

He stood in the village center, blood drying at the corner of his mouth, eyes still locked on the road you used to walk down every dusk. 

His hands shook. 

His mouth trembled. 

"You were supposed to stay..."  "You promised me forever in your eyes." 

But you didn’t answer. 

Because you were gone. 

And so were the people in the village.  

The village lingered with only with him feeding off of everyone and your presence.  

Time moved on. 

The village eventually collapsed.  Records rewritten.  Footprints washed away. 

But he didn’t vanish. 

He moved.  Fed.  Lingered in shadows. 

Years passed.  Decades blurred. 

He watched the world crawl toward neon skies and cities that blinked like stars. 

You were long gone.  But he never stopped believing in the possibility that time — the very thing that tore you from him — might one day return you. 

“Okay but hear me out,” Taehyun says, typing aggressively while Mira tries to slap his hand off the panel. “If I didn’t reroute the carbon filters that night, we’d all be bald. Fact.” 

“Fact?” Mira scoffs. “Fact is you nearly made the algae tank sentient. That thing winked at me.” 

“I still miss it,” Jungwon adds quietly, head down in his own files, a faint smile playing at his lips. 

Yuvi kicks her chair back dramatically, groaning. “My simulation’s stuck again. If I see one more ‘Data Error: Please Restart,’ I swear I’ll throw myself into the code.” 

Your lips curve as you watch them — the way the five of you fit into this space like puzzle pieces.  The room hums with soft tech glows and distant rain tapping the glass walls. 

It's late.  But none of you seem in a hurry to leave. 

Mira throws an energy bar at Taehyun. He catches it one-handed, smug.  Jungwon’s quietly stealing Yuvi’s half-charged mug again.  You just watch — feeling both part of it and… a little removed. 

Because they didn’t live what you lived.  Not the way you did. 

Not with him. 

Not with Sunghoon. 

“You good?” Yuvi asks you suddenly, turning in her chair. 

You blink. “Yeah. Just… tired.” 

“Duh,” she says, nudging your arm. “We’re all tired. End of world stuff every Tuesday.” 

You laugh. The others join in.  And just for a second, it feels normal. 

Like the past didn't follow you here.  Like he never reached across time. 

But the quiet ache in your chest says otherwise. 

Later, when the lab empties out one by one — when Yuvi yawns and Mira packs up her files —  you linger behind. 

Taehyun walks past you, ruffling your hair gently like he always does. Jungwon side hugs you as he exits. And Mira and Yuvi give you a hug before logging off.  

Then the lights dim.  The labs settle.  And you finally move. 

It was almost midnight. 

Your body was running on caffeine, adrenaline, and a half-shattered mind.  The labs were quiet. The halls were colder. Your coat clung to your shoulders, and all you wanted was silence. 

You stepped into the elevator. 

It was empty. Or—  so you thought. 

You didn’t even notice him at first. 

Not until the doors closed.  Not until the world narrowed into this steel box.  And not until a voice — low, aching, quiet — cut through the air like a thread snapping in your chest. 

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” 

You froze. 

Slowly, your eyes turned toward the figure standing in the far corner. 

And there he was. 

Sunghoon. 

Pressed against the wall of the elevator, the overhead light casting a cold glow across his skin.  His white dress shirt clung perfectly across his chest — sleeves rolled just below his elbows, forearms tense. His black tie was loose, like he’d worn it all day just to see you like this. 

His head was tilted slightly down, shadows covering half of his face — but even in the dimness, you saw it. 

The red.  Faint. Glowing. Watching. 

His jaw clenched. His lashes heavy against his cheek. His entire body still, like he was trying not to shake. 

Like just standing here, in front of you, took everything he had left. 

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. 

He finally looked up.  Right at you. 

“You disappeared,” he said softly.  A step closer. 

“But I didn’t.” 

Another step. 

“I stayed. I searched.” 

His voice trembles. 

“And I waited.” 

He stops inches away from you. Close enough for you to see that his hands are shaking.  That his smile is breaking.  That the pain he’s carried all these years hasn’t dulled — only buried deeper. 

Your lips part, but no words come. 

Because what do you say to a man who waited seventy-one years for a goodbye? 

Your body doesn’t move. But he does. 

He steps forward — slowly — like if he moves too fast, you’ll vanish all over again. 

Then his hand lifts. And he touches you. 

Not roughly. Not hungrily. 

Just one cold, steady hand cupping your cheek — reverent. Careful.  The way he always touched you. Like you were something sacred. 

His other hand rests at your waist, pulling you gently toward him. 

Your breath hitches. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

His thumb brushes your skin — and only then, do you exhale. 

But your voice barely comes out. 

“How… how did you get in here?” 

His smile twitches — half amused, half ruined. 

“You’re not the only one who learns things in seventy years.” 

You stare at him. 

“You broke into the lab?” 

“No,” he murmurs. “I learned how to become a ghost in systems like these. Took years. But I found my way into every firewall with your name on it. Every door you walked through.” 

He leans in just slightly — not threatening. Not desperate. 

Just there. Real. Close. 

“I wasn’t going to leave without seeing you again.” 

No matter how many years it’s been —  no matter how far you ran into the future — 

he still found you. 

He holds you like a memory he never let go of.  Like a secret he kept alive for decades. 

And when he finally speaks —  his voice cracks. 

“Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You blink.  Your lips part, but no sound comes out. 

Because how do you explain the sleepless nights?  The dreams where he touched your hand again?  The jacket you almost replicated just to feel close? 

He waits. 

And when you don’t answer — when silence sits between you like a second goodbye — you hear it again: 

“Y/N…”  “Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You look up at him then. 

And the glow in his eyes — the faint red warmth — flickers. 

Flickers like it’ll die if you lie. 

Your throat is tight. 

“How did you even find me?” you whisper. 

He smiles — not the charming one.  The broken one. 

“I never stopped looking.” 

A beat. 

“The village disappeared, but I didn’t. I moved. I adapted. I learned your world. I followed every digital trail you left behind. I memorized your voice. I traced you through five corporate systems and twenty years of noise.” 

His forehead leans into yours, almost touching. 

“You left without saying goodbye.”  “I needed to know… if it meant as much to you as it did to me.” 

You’re not breathing. 

Because in his voice — beneath the stillness, the eternal youth —  is pain. 

Not monstrous. Not violent. 

Just human. And heartbreakingly yours. 

Your hands move without thinking.  One rises to his chest — over where his heart used to beat. 

It’s quiet now.  But yours is loud enough for both of you. 

He’s still waiting. 

Eyes glowing.  Breath held. 

“Tell me,” He whispers again. “Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You swallow. 

Tears sting the edges of your eyes — the kind you refused to cry back then. The kind you buried inside lab reports and daily logs. 

And finally, your voice breaks. 

“I didn’t forget.” 

He closes his eyes, just for a second. Like the words hurt. Like they heal. 

“I just…” you breathe, “I just didn’t know how to come back.” 

There it is. 

The truth. 

The full, naked truth sitting between you —  soft and devastating. 

“I didn’t know if I could. If I should. If you were even—” 

He kisses you. 

Not rushed.  Not hungry. 

Just… quiet. Desperate. Familiar. 

The kind of kiss that says thank you for surviving. 

The kind that says don’t leave again. 

it feels like time folds in on itself. 

Like the wind from the village,  the rain on your skin,  the jacket on your shoulders,  the words you never said —  they all return in that one breath. 

And this time,  you kiss him back. 

Hands gripping the front of his coat, your breath catching —  like your body finally remembered what safety tasted like. 

He pulls you in closer, desperate,  like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.  Like you’ll vanish again if he lets go. 

When your lips part, and you both breathe — barely —  your forehead leans into his. 

The glow in his eyes softens. 

And then— 

“You…” your voice cracks, soft and shaking.  “You waited? For me?” 

His eyes close slowly. 

Not like he’s in pain —  but like your question alone undid him. 

“Of course I did,” he whispers.  “How could I not?” 

You inhale sharply,  because no one’s ever said it like that. 

Not with that kind of certainty.  Like your existence was never forgettable —  just… unforgettable. 

“You… waited? For me?” 

His eyes flutter shut — like your voice, your doubt, undoes something deep in him. 

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, forehead still resting against yours.  “How could I not?” 

That’s when the tears come. 

You didn’t mean to.  You weren’t even sure they were still inside you. 

But suddenly, your eyes burn. 

And your voice falls out in pieces. 

“I thought…” your lips tremble.  “I thought you moved on.”  “Thought you’d forget me.” 

His arms tighten around you instantly — like he can feel you breaking and is ready to hold every shattered piece. 

“I couldn’t,” he says.  “I wouldn’t.” 

Your eyes meet again, and he says it like a vow: 

“I loved you in 2019. I loved you in every year after.  Even the ones where you weren’t there.” 

“You… waited? For me?” 

His eyes flutter shut — like your voice, your doubt, undoes something deep in him. 

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, forehead still resting against yours.  “How could I not?” 

That’s when the tears come. 

You didn’t mean to.  You weren’t even sure they were still inside you. 

But suddenly, your eyes burn. 

And your voice falls out in pieces. 

“I thought…” your lips tremble.  “I thought you moved on.”  “Thought you’d forget me.” 

His arms tighten around you instantly — like he can feel you breaking and is ready to hold every shattered piece. 

“I couldn’t,” he says.  “I wouldn’t.” 

Your eyes meet again, and he says it like a vow: 

“I loved you in 2019. I loved you in every year after.  Even the ones where you weren’t there.” 

And just like that—  you stepped into him. 

Your arms wrapped around his torso tight, face burying into his chest, body trembling from everything you’d held back for too long. 

And he— 

He didn’t hesitate. 

He wrapped his arms around you so firmly, so protectively, it almost hurt.  Like if the world tried to take you again, it would have to tear through him first. 

One arm locked around your waist.  The other curled high around your back, hand cradling the base of your neck — fingers gently gripping, anchoring you like he was afraid you’d disappear again. 

“You’re here,” he breathed.  “You’re really here.” 

He didn’t just hold you. 

He claimed you — not with force, but with everything he never got to say. 

This wasn’t a soft embrace. 

This was the way you hold something sacred.  The way you cling to a miracle. 

And for the first time after he met in seventy years,  he didn’t feel cold anymore. 

He held you like you were his whole world —  like everything he endured, every year he starved, every time he nearly gave up…  was worth it just to feel you in his arms again. 

And for a long, still moment —  you didn’t speak. 

You just breathed.  Chest rising against his.  The faint, unfamiliar sound of his heartbeat echoing somewhere far beneath. 

Then, into the quiet, barely louder than a breath— 

“I missed this,” you whispered, cheek pressed against his chest.  “I missed you.” 

His hand gripped you tighter, almost instinctively.  Like your words shattered something inside him he didn’t even know was still breakable. 

He didn’t say anything at first. 

But you felt it —  in the way his thumb moved slowly against your back,  in the way his body trembled just slightly against yours. 

“Say it again,” he murmured. 

You tilted your head just slightly, looked up into those red-flecked eyes that had waited decades for this. 

And this time, you didn’t whisper. 

“I missed you, Sunghoon.” 

He looked at you, cupped your face with both of his hands with so much of care as if you were porcelain and would break if you added any more force.  

He kissed your forehead like it was the only language he had left. 

Slow.  Tender.  Devastating. 

Your eyes fluttered shut — his lips lingering just a heartbeat longer, like he couldn’t quite let go. 

And when he finally pulled back, just far enough to look at you again —  his voice cracked through the silence. 

“Don’t leave me this time…”  A pause. A breath.  “Angel.” 

The name hit you harder than the kiss. 

Because that’s what he used to call you.  Back in the village.  When your hands were cold from the rain, and he’d wrap his jacket around you like you were something worth saving. 

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.  But he saw it.  Of course he did.  His thumb brushed just beneath your eye. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured.  “Just… stay.” 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie (lmk if u wanna be added!)

A/N: im backkkkkkkkkk y'allllllllllllll !!!!!!!!! also this thing has been keeping me from watching the outside mv so imma watch it now! ALSO WROTE THIS THING IN 2 DAYS LIKE WTH i cant believe i did tht. anyways enjoy and stay hydrated!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[btsreadss]

The Curse of the Four Souls — Series Masterlist

Summary: Heir to a cursed line of sorcerers, you carry on your shoulders the weight of an ancestral pact: to prevent the destruction of the world, you must unite with four men from clans once enemies of your own kind—a demon, a celestial, an immortal fox, and a human.

But nothing is simple when love, hate, desire, and betrayal intertwine. Torn between your curse and your feelings, protected by some, judged by others, you will have to face the truth about your blood... and what you are willing to sacrifice to survive.

What if it wasn't you, but them... who were trapped from the start?

Genre: Fantasy, Dark Romance, Drama, Action, Reverse Harem, Supernatural, Wuxia

Pairing : Enha hyung Line x reader

word : ??

divider By @uzmacchiato

🌑 Chapter 1 – The Bleeding Sky

“When the gods fall silent, shadows begin to whisper.”

🌒 Chapter 2 – The Obsidian-Eyed Guardian — 2.1 / 2.2

“Only in her presence does his hand tremble.”

🌕 Chapter 3 – Beneath the Ashes, the Heart

“Fire does not burn what it loves. It devours it.”

🦊 Chapter 4 – The Fox’s Laughter

“He lies so well you wish his truths were real.”

🌫 Chapter 5 – Where Promises Sleep

“He says nothing. And yet, she hears everything.”

🌌 Chapter 6 – When the Heavens Shatter

“Stars fall and destinies break.”

🩸Chapter 7 – The Price of the Eternal Bond

“Love is a vow fate makes bleed.”

Extra : Teaser

Taglist : @weepingsweep @immelissaaa @riribelle

[btsreadss]

Baby Girl, You Got Desires Too

Pairing: Mob!Niki x Mob!Fem!Reader

TW/N | 14k- forbidden love, pining, yearning, you’re too good for me | some kissing, a lot of pining here and there | not much of a plot | part of the PLEASE STOP DONT STOP universe but you don’t need to read that to understand this one. Just fun Easter eggs for those who have read it | Riki is a little shit in this one (he always is), curses a lot, disrespectful to his Hyungs but you know it’s all love, emotionally unavailable

Summary: Riki started off in the mafia life a bit too young, a bit too innocent. It only made sense that he grew into who he was now- the sharpest one, physically skilled and can wield a knife and gun better than chopsticks. But when he’s tasked to teach the daughter of the Mafia world’s biggest boss, he knew he was meant to keep his distance. He couldn’t put his life, his family’s life, on the line- but for Y/N, he was willing to risk it.

I

“Riki, your hair is fried.”

Nishimura Riki, or Niki, as many called him, had a habit of dying his hair. He wasn’t sure why- it had started when he was barely a teenager. At that age, when he had suddenly been thrusted into freedom with money, he’d done a lot of things he’d come to regret- piercings, tattoos, clothing styles. The biggest of them all was introducing himself as Niki to the people he met in the industry. As he grew older, he realised how childish it was, to change his name. But changing his hair styles was something he’d never come to regret.

He always insisted that it gave him charisma- or, even better, made him look intimidating sometimes. Just like now, when his hair was bleached and eyebrows changed to match.

His Hyungs loved to make fun of him for it, especially Sunghoon. But at least they didn’t call him Niki anymore.

“Shut up, Hyung,” he rolled his eyes. And though he sounded like he spat the words with malice, Sunghoon just grinned at him.

Jay- his boss- was sprawled out on the couch beside Sunghoon, phone caressed lazily in his hand. His eyes didn’t flicker up to see Riki’s new hairstyle. “I’m not gonna bother looking,” he muttered. “I already know it’s something stupid.”

“I think I look nice with it,” Riki crossed his arms in defense, muscles flexing.

The boy had changed a lot since they brought him into the business. The transformation came from relentless hours of honing his skills, grueling gym sessions, and a disciplined diet. Riki had become known for his sharp technique in martial arts- so much so that he’d somehow surpassed even Jungwon, who was formally trained in taekwondo. And when it came to handling a knife or firing a gun, his precision was unnerving- deadly, even. No one ever saw it coming. He may have been the youngest, but in many ways, he was the most formidable.

“Riki, I can barely see your face,” Sunghoon commented. “Everything’s blurring together,” he waved a hand vaguely in front of his eyes for emphasis.

“Jake Hyung would like it,” Riki rolled his eyes again, looking to the side of the room where a table of framed pictures sat. There were many pictures, in many of which Riki was featured in. Mostly, though, it was Jay with his sister or Jake. “Where is he, anyway?”

That got Jay to finally lift his head, attention steering away from whatever interesting thing he was reading on his phone. “He and my sister have gone out on a date,” Jay groaned and rolled his head to lean against the couch cushion. It seemed that the thought of his best friend and sister dating still bothered him- though he’d given them his blessings a long time ago. “Two year anniversary or something- oh wow, Riki. Sunghoon’s right, I really can’t see your face.”

Jay’s expression of surprise and bewilderment brought Sunghoon down into a fit of laughter. He clutched his stomach and fell sideways into the couch, mouth wide in a smile and eyes crinkled in cheer.

Riki just stared at them, unamused, arms still crossed and eyes narrowing to slits.

“I’m the boss, and somehow, you’ve grown to look scarier than me,” Jay observed.

“You’ve gone soft, Hyung,” Riki deadpanned.

Which, technically, was true. Ever since he started mending his relationship with his sister, started listening to her and taking her advice on the business, the weight on Jay’s shoulders had lifted- only slightly. Everyone preferred working with this version of Jay- the one that listened, the one that stopped and thought before making rash decisions and the one that started caring more about his people than the business in itself.

“It’s a good thing,” Riki quickly added before Jay’s expression could fall.

Behind them, Heeseung had entered the room, the screen of his phone lifted towards them. His steps were frantic, impatient; eyes wide and confused. “Did you guys see this?”

“Jay must have. He’s been on his phone for over an hour,” Niki grinned at his oldest Hyung, who, in return, responded with annoyance and a shake of his head.

“Careful, little shit,” Jay pointed a finger at him, moving to reach for his phone that had wedged itself between couch cushions. “I can still snap.”

Sunghoon, too, opened his phone in hopes of looking for what Heeseung was referring to. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

“No one got the email?” Hesseung went on, staring at his screen like he could find some sort of clue that made sense of his spiralling. “Andrei wants to see us.”

Andrei had been the oldest friend of Jay’s family. He and Jay’s father had grown up side by side- same neighborhood, same school, same college- until they graduated and stepped into the mafia world together, a calculated risk that turned into a legacy. But when Jay’s father stepped away from the life and handed the reins to his son, Andrei remained. In some ways, he still outranked them both. He watched over Jay and everyone close to him- quietly, but with expectations that were never spoken yet always understood. Around Andrei, it felt like they were walking on thin ice. One word from him, one simple request, could bring everything to a standstill.

“What?” Jay’s voice almost disappeared.

Riki and Sunghoon could only stare at Heeseung, frozen in their expressions of uncertainty.

“Let me see,” Riki took the phone from Heeseung and examined the email.

There really was nothing much in it- it was an invitation to his house. For lunch. With his family- only him and his daughter and their two dogs.

“What in the world,” Riki mumbled. “He wants to have lunch?”

Jay grumbled and held his head in his hands.

Sunghoon stared as though there was a black hole in front of him. “I heard that the last time he called someone for lunch, he’d beheaded them and boiled their parts in acid.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Heeseung pointed at Sunghoon, as though they were relating to something. “The rumor spread like wildfire.”

“Guy’s, you can’t seriously believe that,” Riki tutted. “It was a rumor.”

The front door had opened with a familiar thud and footsteps made their way down the hallway- they could recognise it. It was Jake and Jocelyn (Jay’s sister) back from their date, arms and glee wrapped around each other like blankets. They stumbled into the hall with bright smiles, the kind that somehow had a way of calming everyone down.

But not this time, apparently. Everyone was still confused.

Jake and Jocelyn’s smiles faltered.

“Why does everyone look like that,” Jocelyn’s eyes scanned the room, slowly shifting from Riki, to Heeseung, to Sunghoon then finally, to her brother, Jay. “Did someone die or something?”

Jake let out a low chuckle. “No way,” he shook his head. But when no one reacted to him, his chuckle faltered too. “Someone actually died?”

“No,” Sunghoon swallowed. “But someone might as well.”

“Hyung,” Riki started. “You’re part of the biggest mafia gang in the country and you’re squealing like a child right now.”

Sunghoon’s face snapped towards him, fear replaced by anger now. “What did Jay just say? I can still snap.”

Jocelyn ran to Jay’s side, wrapping her arm around his hunched frame. Jake went over to Heeseung to see the invite everyone had been talking about.

“Andrei?” Jake mused. “It’s been like, what, two- three years since we’ve seen the man?”

“Yeah, the last time ya’ll saw him, I was there,” Y/N looked back, almost fondly. “I remember him being really sweet.”

“Yeah? Well,” Jay straightened again. “He’s nice until someone pisses him off.”

“Have you pissed him off?”

“No.”

Jocelyn smiled softly. “Then why are you worried?”

II

Andrei’s house was big.

Everytime Riki saw it- in person a few years ago, through pictures and once on a feature in an architecture magazine- he was always taken by awe. It was bigger than his house, the one he shared with Jay and everyone else. It was bigger than most houses. Too big for just two people, that was for sure.

The drive from the gate of the estate to the front door took about five minutes- he knew because the radio in the car played Hotel California from start to finish.

They’d arrived in two cars- Riki, Jay, Jake and Jocelyn in one, the rest in the other.

The ride was quiet, save for the music and the occasional glance exchanged between Jay and Jocelyn in the backseat. Jay hadn’t said much since reading the email, and while Riki tried to act unbothered- tapping his fingers on the wheel and humming along to the chorus-he could feel the tension lingering in the car like static.

Jake, riding shotgun, finally broke the silence. “So… what do we think this is? A family catch-up? Or a test?”

Riki didn’t answer, just kept driving with his jaw clenched and bleached eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Jay didn’t want to answer, judging by the way his knee bounced slightly, restless.

“Could be both,” Jocelyn offered, her voice calm but careful. “He wouldn’t ask to see all of us unless it meant something.”

As they pulled up to the front entrance, two large black hounds sat poised by the doorway- Andrei’s dogs, just as massive and intimidating as Riki remembered. The front of the house looked like a modern fortress, all sharp angles and glass, with a stone driveway wide enough to host a small parade.

The second car pulled up behind them. Heeseung stepped out first, muttering under his breath. Sunghoon followed, unusually quiet, and Jungwon and Sunoo trailed behind, jaws tight with focus.

They all gathered at the base of the stairs before anyone dared to ring the doorbell.

“I feel like we’re walking into a war room,” Sunoo said, eyeing the tall double doors.

“Shut up,” Jay muttered, adjusting his coat. He turned to his sister. “Stay close.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

The door had opened without them having to knock, as though the house had sensed their presence. They knew it wasn’t magic- they were automated doors. But the fear that lingered on their nerves made them believe whatever wild thought that entered their heads.

The inside of Andrei’s house was as breathtaking as it was unsettling.

It was cold- not in temperature, but in atmosphere. The kind of cold that whispered power in polished surfaces and quiet corners. The floors were black marble with veins of silver running through them like cracks in glass. Every footstep echoed, soft but distinct, as though the house wanted to remember every person who walked through it.

Tall ceilings loomed overhead, supported by clean-lined columns that stood like silent sentinels. The walls were a soft matte grey, broken up by strange, modern art- sculptures that twisted in forms too abstract to name, and paintings that bled shadows and red.

Nothing felt homely- not a photo frame, not a fingerprint- just wealth, precision, and intention.

To the right, an enormous staircase curved upward like a spine, its railing a dark metal so finely crafted it almost looked like lace. A chandelier hung above it, not the classic crystal kind but an avant-garde fixture of golden rods and spheres, suspended in deliberate chaos.

Even the air smelled expensive- notes of cedar, clean linen, and something older, like history.

Heeseung’s eyes traced the perimeter, already mapping exits. Jungwon said nothing, jaw tight. Sunoo’s expression was unreadable, but his fingers tapped nervously against his thigh.

“This place could be a museum,” Sunghoon whispered under his breath.

“No,” Jake said beside him. “Museums feel alive.”

Andrei appeared at the end of the grand hallway, framed by the pale gold light spilling through the archways behind him. A pipe hung lazily from the corner of his mouth- smoke curling upward in soft spirals. It was new. Jay didn’t remember him ever smoking a pipe.

But what struck him more than the pipe was the smile- wide, warm, disarming- like they were long-lost family returning home.

“You came,” Andrei beamed, spreading his arms.

“Of course we did,” Jay said, voice steady as he stepped forward. The two men embraced- brief, firm, the kind of hug between people who respected each other but still watched their backs.

Then Andrei turned to Jocelyn, his expression softening further. “Darling,” he murmured, pulling her in. His hug with her lasted longer, less guarded. “You’ve grown into your mother’s mirror.”

Jocelyn smiled, a bit taken aback but not uncomfortable. “You talk like a poet, Andrei.”

He chuckled, stepping back, removing the pipe just long enough to blow the smoke away from their faces.

Behind them, the others stood quietly- still, as if unsure whether to approach or wait for orders.

Andrei’s eyes flicked to them. “Come now,” he said, arms open again. “What’s with all the stiffness? This is lunch, not an ambush.”

No one moved right away. Then Riki took the first step.

“We brought wine,” he offered, holding up the bottle he’d been carrying.

Andrei’s grin widened. “Ah, the pretty one with bleached hair. You never disappoint. Niki, was it?”

“Riki,” he responded with a curt nod.

Andre hummed, stared him in the eye for two seconds, and then turned to lead everyone into the dining hall.

Riki turned to Sunghoon with a cheeky grin, as though he’d won in some sort of bet. “He likes my hair.”

Andrei led them through a long, high-ceilinged hallway, his steps unhurried, pipe still trailing smoke like a veil. Their footsteps filled the silence in a rhythm that felt ceremonial- no one dared to speak.

The dining hall doors were already open.

Inside, the room glowed gold under a massive chandelier. The table was long, dark wood with a flawless polish, stretched out like something from a royal painting. The spread laid across it was nothing short of a feast- roast meats, platters of grilled vegetables, seafood glistening with butter and herbs, fresh bread stacked like bricks, and wine in glass decanters so clear they looked invisible.

Yet every chair stood empty, waiting.

Andrei took his place at the head of the table, the chair like a throne. The other end of the table remained unoccupied. No one even glanced at it for too long- it had once belonged to his wife. No one dared sit there.

Silently, they filled in the seats along the sides. Jay took the one closest to Andrei on the left, Jocelyn beside him. Riki ended up across from Sunghoon and Jungwon, and Jake between Heeseung and Sunoo.

Waiters appeared with practiced precision, dressed in uniform black, serving portions without a word. The clinking of silverware and glass filled the room for a moment- almost soothing, if not for the tension that buzzed faintly beneath the surface.

“So,” Andrei said, voice light as he poured himself a glass of wine. “How’s business, Jay?”

Jay gave a clipped smile. “Stable. Clean. Quiet.”

Andrei laughed under his breath, the kind of laugh that said he didn’t believe in quiet. “That’s good. Quiet means you’re doing something right.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries- Sunghoon complimenting the food, Jocelyn asking about the chef, Riki quietly stabbing into a grilled shrimp- until the sound of soft footsteps interrupted them.

Everyone turned.

A girl walked in- cooly, not hurried, like she’d been planning her entrance to the tea.

She was effortlessly put together- white dress that reached her knees, hair falling down her back in waves. Her eyes were sharp, fox-like, a flicker of amusement playing in them even though she hadn’t said a word yet. She carried herself with a kind of lazy confidence- born from growing up in rooms where men lowered their voices when her father walked in.

“This is my daughter,” Andrei said as she came to his side. “Y/N.”

Y/N offered a short nod, her gaze flickering across the table- assessing, not greeting. “Hi,” she said simply, sliding into the empty seat next to her father.

She didn't try to make conversation. She didn't even need to.

Andrei leaned back in his chair, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I brought you all here for a reason,” he said, letting the pipe rest in an ashtray beside him. “And while I do enjoy seeing familiar faces… this wasn’t just a social call.”

The table quieted. All eyes turned to him.

“It’s about her,” he continued, glancing toward Y/N, who looked mildly annoyed at being the center of attention.

Jay frowned. “What do you mean?”

Andrei raised his glass but didn’t drink. “She’s grown up around all this,” he gestured loosely. “But I never taught her how to protect herself. Call it a father’s guilt. Or maybe I’m getting old. Either way, ” his eyes landed on Riki, “I want him to train her.”

Riki blinked. “Me?”

“You’re the best we’ve got,” Andrei said plainly. “And you’re on Jay’s side, which means you’re on mine. Who better to trust?”

The room was silent again.

Riki looked to Jay for some unspoken signal, but Jay’s face gave away nothing.

III

The hallway lights were dim, and most of the house had gone quiet for the evening. Riki was in the shared living room back at their place, sprawled dramatically across the couch, a pillow over his face smothering his rage.

“I can’t believe this,” he groaned, voice muffled by cotton. “Out of everyone- me? Do I not have better shit to do?”

From the nearby armchair, Sunoo didn’t even look up from his book. “You don’t.”

Riki sat up, tossing the pillow aside. “I do! I’ve got- training, and drills, and gun maintenance, and- ”

Sunoo raised a brow. “You’re literally describing the same things you’re going to do with her.”

“That’s not the point,” Riki snapped. “She’s… cocky.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but she’s got that rich-girl-doesn’t-care-if-she-gets-shot kind of cocky. Like, daddy will save me.” He gestured wildly in the air, mimicking her expression. “Hi, I don’t need to know basic defense because my last name is enough to keep me alive.”

“I don’t think she’s being forced into this,” Sunoo finally looked up, closing his book with a soft thud. “Plus, Andrei asked for it.”

“Which means I can’t say no.”

“Exactly,” Sunoo echoed, now getting up and walking to the kitchen for water. “He asks, we deliver. That’s the rule, remember?”

IV

Riki’s gym took up the entire basement- what was once a dull, unused space had been gutted, repainted, and reborn into his own haven of physical exercise and mastery of weapons. A boxing ring sat squarely at the center, its ropes frayed at the edges from constant use. The walls were painted in sharp hues of grey, yellow, and red, giving the otherwise white canvas a burst of aggression and focus. Weights lined one wall, punching bags hung like silent spectators, the floor smelled faintly of sweat and disinfectant- Riki kept it immaculate.

Y/N showed up right on time. Not too early, not fashionably late- just on the dot, like she was setting a tone.

She stepped in wearing black leggings and a fitted top, her hair tied into a high ponytail that didn’t dare move. She had a bounce in her step, like this was just another challenge she was confident she’d charm her way through.

“Morning,” she said brightly, offering a slight smile as she looked around. “Nice place. Didn't think you'd be the aesthetic type.”

Riki didn’t respond. He stood near the edge of the ring, arms crossed over his chest, face more unreadable with his bleached brows and hair. His silence was louder than any greeting.

“Warm up,” he said flatly.

Y/N’s smile faltered for half a second. “Not a talker- got it.”

She nodded and dropped her bag to the floor, stepping to the side to begin her stretching routine. Her movements were fluid- familiar, well-practiced. Riki watched without expression, eyes calculating, taking mental notes.

After a minute, her voice cut through the tension.

“So… what are we doing today?” Her cocky edge had returned, laced with curiosity. “You gonna show me how to throw knives or something?”

Riki’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not starting anything today,” he said. “Only exercise.”

Y/N groaned slightly, tipping her head back with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, how boring.”

“Then leave,” Riki said, deadpan.

She blinked. He didn’t flinch.

She huffed a breath of laughter, amused and annoyed all at once. “Wow. Okay. Tough crowd.”

He turned away and started setting a timer. “Five sets of jump squats, thirty seconds rest. Let’s see if the mafia princess can even survive a warm-up.”

Y/N paused mid-squat, eyes narrowing. “I’m not a mafia princess.”

Riki didn’t even glance up from the timer. “Then what?” He continued flatly. “Daddy’s princess?”

The words struck harder than she expected- mocking, cold, dismissive.

Her smirk vanished. “You don’t even know me,” she snapped, standing upright.

He finally looked up, arms crossed. “Don’t need to. I’ve seen your kind before.”

Her eyes flared. “My kind?”

“Entitled. Spoiled. Think they can smile their way out of hard work.”

Y/N stepped closer, jaw tight. “You think I was forced into this?”

Riki shrugged. “You’ll still be here tomorrow. That’s all that matters.”

She stared at him, furious. Then turned away, biting down the urge to argue more. She grabbed her water bottle with a little too much force, taking a sharp breath.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, just loud enough. “Cocky, emotionally constipated, knife boy.”

Riki heard- but didn’t flinch. He just hit start on the timer. “Set two. Let’s go, princess.”

V

Y/N wasn’t spoiled. Not in the way people liked to assume.

Her father had raised her with discipline, values, and a sharp tongue that could hold its own in any room. At least- that’s what she liked to believe. Still, more than once, people had told her she had an attitude. It came up in passing, always laced with a laugh- too sharp, too smug, too sure of herself. But she never saw a reason to correct it.

Because the truth was- her life didn’t demand humility.

Y/N lived a life most people could only dream of. As the daughter of Andrei- the most feared and respected man in the country’s criminal underworld- she existed in a world built on power, wealth, and silence. She had bodyguards before she had braces, chauffeurs before she had a license. Wherever she went, her name traveled ahead of her, clearing the way like a blade through water. Her father’s influence wrapped around her like armor, and for most of her life, it had been enough. No one touched her- no one even dared. She had money, freedom, and the kind of unspoken reverence that followed her even when she wasn’t trying to be noticed. On the surface, it was the perfect life.

But it wasn’t bulletproof.

The night everything changed hadn’t felt like anything at all- just another quiet evening. She had come home from her university class, tossed her bag on the floor, washed her face, and climbed into bed like it was any other day. That’s when the alarms started- piercing, shrill, flashing red lights flooding the hallway. The sound of bodies moving-heavy boots, drawn weapons, the bark of commands. And then a struggle- quick, brutal, over in seconds. By the time she opened her bedroom door, it was done. The intruder had been tackled just outside the side entrance, barely a few meters from where she slept. If the bodyguards had been a minute slower, he might’ve reached her.

For the first time, Andrei had seen the crack in the foundation. He watched the security footage in silence, a lit pipe resting between his fingers, smoke curling like ghosts around his face. What scared Y/N the most wasn’t his anger- it was how calm he was- the way he stood in her doorway that night, long after the incident, just watching her sleep like he was mourning something he hadn’t lost.

The next morning, he gave the order.

She needed to learn to protect herself.

And that was where Riki came in.

Riki wasn’t just another bodyguard or soldier. He was the sharpest weapon in Jay’s arsenal, someone who had risen quickly through the ranks not by legacy, but by discipline and deadly precision. Everyone knew what he was capable of- knife work, close combat, firearms- he mastered everything. Young, powerful, and ruthless, Riki never flinched.

He didn’t care that Y/N was Andrei’s daughter. In fact, that was exactly why Andrei chose him. Riki wasn’t there to entertain her, pamper her, or protect her ego. He was there to mold her into someone dangerous- someone who didn’t flinch in the face of a gun, someone who would never need saving.

Y/N had agreed, not out of fear, but out of pride. She wanted to prove she was more than just her father’s name, more than just the girl at the end of the table during dinners, more than someone who was almost kidnapped. But what she didn’t expect- what no one warned her about- was just how much Riki would make her earn it.

Training with Riki wasn’t the kind of physical exhaustion Y/N had braced herself for. There were no bruises blooming beneath her skin, no split lips or dramatic battle scars- at least, not yet. What truly drained her, what left her feeling heavy and hollow by the end of each day, was the sheer mental weight of it all. It was the relentless stillness in his voice, the clinical precision of his words, the way he never praised, never acknowledged, never gave her even a sliver of satisfaction.

The first day had broken something in her, though she would’ve rather chewed glass than admit it. Despite the bravado she carried in with her- head held high, eyes challenging- she returned home that evening in silence. Her father had waited at the dinner table, an untouched plate in front of him, and though he didn’t say anything when she walked past, he noticed. She didn’t eat. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at him.

And yet, the next day, she was back.

She arrived early, hair tied tight, expression sharper than it had been the day before, as if she had stitched her pride back together just enough to stand. But Riki didn’t reward her silent resilience. He barely even looked at her as he tossed her the rope and told her to warm up. What followed was a repeat of the day prior- stretches, conditioning drills, plank holds, wall sits, core exercises until her body trembled under the pressure- but the part that wore her down the most was the repetition, the lack of progress, the dull, numbing sameness. Occasionally, if she was lucky or if he was particularly generous, he let her use the dumbbells under strict time and form limitations. That was the extent of variation. There was no celebration when she did something right, no adjustment when she struggled. Just the same three words, muttered without a glance- “Again. Fix it.”

And, of course, the nickname. Always the nickname.

“Princess,” he’d say, dragging it out just enough to make her feel it, like he was driving the knife in slowly- just to watch her bleed frustration. She hated it because it undermined her effort, and because it reminded her of everything she’d been trying to escape.

And Riki didn’t care.

“If you’re so annoyed,” he said casually one afternoon, watching her mid-set as sweat dripped down the side of her face, “the door’s right there.”

She didn’t answer. - ust rolled her eyes and kept holding the plank until her arms trembled.

That was the day Jocelyn had walked in- unannounced, a breath of fresh air in soft curls and a denim jacket, smiling like she didn’t know the room was emotionally on fire. Her warmth was instant, her presence oddly disarming. She slipped beside Y/N and offered a small nod, like they’d been friends forever.

“Come on,” she said gently. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Two bodyguards trailed them the entire time- like shadows glued to café glass and pastel menus. The café was cozy, too cozy to house the kind of lives they lived. The juxtaposition made Y/N laugh- really laugh for the first time in days.

Jocelyn quickly became her escape. When Riki pushed too hard, when her self-worth started cracking under his silence, Jocelyn would swoop in- text her out, drag her to a bookstore, slip her snacks under the table. She’d call Riki out to his face, too- never scared, never subtle.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” Jocelyn had snapped at him once, right after he corrected Y/N’s stance for the fifth time in one session. “She’s trying. You could try not to be a robot.”

But Riki didn’t change. If anything, he seemed to double down. The more he realized he could get away with it- the more it became clear that Andrei was firmly on his side- he pushed harder. Andrei never scolded him, never told him to ease up- he trusted Riki’s judgment. Which, to Riki, was permission to keep jabbing.

And so he did.

With every flat remark. With every eye roll. With every “princess.”

Because the truth was- Riki had already decided what Y/N was. And no matter how many days she showed up, she hadn’t proved him wrong yet.

VI

“I’m gonna teach you how to use a knife today.”

The words landed in the air like a stone dropped in still water- sudden, sharp, sending silent ripples through everything.

Y/N froze halfway through tying her ponytail, the elastic still looped between her fingers. For a second, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned her head slowly, brows furrowed, expecting some kind of follow-up- maybe a correction, a deadpan jab, the usual eye roll that came with his sarcasm.

But Riki was serious.

He stood near the storage rack, sleeves pushed up, eyes cool and unreadable, and beside him, laid out on a clean white cloth, was a single black-handled blade- sharp, deadly.

Y/N let the elastic snap into place and approached, the echo of her sneakers soft against the gym floor. “You’re not just trying to scare me off?”

Riki didn’t blink. “If I wanted you gone, I’d just stop showing up.”

He picked up the knife with ease- one could tell his familiarity with it with a simple glance. The blade gleamed under the basement lights, catching a thin sliver of gold in its curve before he held it out, handle first. “Take it.”

Y/N reached for it without hesitation, fingers curling around the grip. It was heavier than she expected- not impossibly so, but enough to remind her that this wasn’t a movie, and this wasn’t pretend.

“You’re not gonna say I haven’t earned it yet?” She asked, glancing up at him with a flicker of something close to a smirk.

Riki’s expression didn’t shift. “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be holding it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable for once. It felt like a new weight settling into the room, a shift in dynamic- small, but undeniable. For the first time in weeks, Y/N didn’t feel like she was being tolerated. She felt like she was being tested.

He stepped behind her, adjusting her grip slightly, guiding her fingers with deliberate precision. His hands were steady, clinical, devoid of any softness. “You don’t hold it like you’re scared of it,” he said. “You hold it like it belongs to you. Because if you ever need to use it, hesitation will get you killed.”

Y/N nodded once..

“What are we starting with?” She asked.

“Targeting. Center mass. Arterial strikes. The basics.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, just light stuff.”

Riki stepped back, the faintest hint of something in his eyes- approval, maybe, though he’d never say it aloud. “You want me to sugarcoat it, or teach you how to survive?”

“I’m not here to be babied,” she said.

“Good,” he replied. “Because I don’t do that.”

VII

It was one of those rare evenings where the entire house sat down for dinner together- something that only ever happened under Jocelyn’s unrelenting insistence. She called them “non-negotiable trust exercises,” claiming that shared meals were sacred, that they built familiarity, dissolved tension, and reminded them all they weren’t just soldiers, or heirs, or enforcers- they were still, somewhere beneath the chaos, a family.

It had happened so often by now that no one protested anymore. In fact, though none of them would dare admit it- especially not Jay- they had started looking forward to it.

The dining table stretched wide, dressed in warm food and soft candlelight, laughter crackling occasionally between bites and side glances. For a few moments, the world outside faded- the rival families, the tension in their bones, the training regimens, the name Andrei looming over their choices. For a few moments, they were just people.

Between bites of roasted vegetables and low conversation, Jay- leaning back with his wine glass in hand- glanced toward Riki without much ceremony. “How’s training going with Y/N?”

Before Riki could even lift his head, Jocelyn cut in, spearing a piece of chicken with far too much enthusiasm. “I think she hates us,” she said, voice cheery in the way only someone trying to stir trouble on purpose could manage. “Riki treats her like absolute shit.”

The table fell dead silent.

Forks hovered halfway to mouths, spoons paused mid-scoop, and everyone’s breath collectively stilled, like the room itself had flinched. All eyes swung toward Riki at once- Heeseung, Sunghoon, Jake, Jungwon, Sunoo- each of them caught somewhere between horror and fascination. It was like someone had pulled the pin on a grenade and dropped it gently in the soup bowl.

Riki leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, gaze level and expression unreadable, like none of this concerned him in the slightest.

Riki would never admit it aloud- certainly not here- but there was a reason he treated Y/N the way he did, a reason that wasn’t about her at all. It was about the fear her father instilled in all of them- the kind of fear that wasn’t loud or threatening, but quiet and suffocating, like a wire pulled tight around the throat. He didn’t like seeing his Hyungs afraid, didn’t like watching the power shift in a room the second Andrei was mentioned. And whether it was misplaced rebellion or something tangled in the growing pains of teenage pride, Riki’s way of pushing back was through her. Through the one person Andrei had made them all silently swear to protect.

It wasn’t fair. Jocelyn told him that- often and bluntly. And still, he didn’t stop.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Jungwon asked from the far end, his tone more serious than usual.

Jocelyn raised her brows, leaning into the storm she had brewed. “Guys. I feel like you overestimate Andrei. I know he’s… intense, but he thinks of us as family. He trusts us. He trusts Riki.”

“Do you think he’ll still think that,” Heeseung muttered darkly, “when he finds out we’ve been letting his daughter get bullied by this little shit?”

“He hasn’t yet,” Riki said, finally breaking his silence, his tone steady but low. “And he knows how I’ve been training her. I’ve reported everything. He hasn’t said a word about it.”

Jay set his wine glass down, a soft click punctuating the space between them. His eyes were fixed on Riki now- sharp, calculating, protective. “You better not take it too far,” he said, voice cold and quiet in a way that made everyone feel it.

Meanwhile, back in her room, Y/N was face-down on her bed, her arms splayed out and her face half-buried in her pillows like she could physically smother the thoughts racing through her head.

She hated that she was thinking about him.

She really hated that she was thinking about the way his chest had pressed lightly against her back that afternoon- how his voice had lowered, just slightly, as he corrected her stance, one hand firm around her wrist, the other hovering near her waist. There had been nothing flirtatious in it, nothing even remotely intentional. And yet, she felt it- his breath at her neck, his hand steady and warm, the way his hair brushed across her cheek when he leaned too close.

For the first time, he’d treated her like someone who belonged.

Not like a task. Not like a child. Like someone capable of learning. Like someone seen.

And it had wrecked her.

This was not supposed to happen. He was rude, arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and worst of all- barely even looked at her like a person before this week. But the moment he had, the moment he shifted even slightly, her feelings had unraveled.

Riki was the first person to treat her like she had to earn her space.

And God help her, she wanted to- for reasons she didn’t understand yet.

Training sessions with the knife continued that way.

They weren’t rushed, not by any means. Riki moved with measured precision, always focused, always professional. Each lesson built on the last that slowly, inevitably carved her into someone sharper- just like Andrei wanted. And through it all, Riki was there, correcting her grip with a firm hand around her fingers, steadying her hips when her balance faltered, tilting her elbow just slightly to improve her range. His touch was never inappropriate, never lingering- but it was there, constant and unavoidable.

And that was the problem. It wasn’t supposed to matter. But it did.

Because every time he stepped in behind her, hands brushing her arms to guide a motion, or his chest ghosting too close to her back, she became aware- not just of him, but of herself; of how small she felt next to him, how easily he could move her body like it was a piece of a larger machine, how focused he was on the technique and how hard it was for her to stay focused on anything else. She’d nod, she'd respond, she'd keep her stance- because she wasn’t weak- but inside, it drove her mad.

And that was its own kind of addiction.

Eventually, the knife training evolved.

One afternoon, he led her toward the dartboard nailed to the far corner of the gym wall, the sleek, black-and-red target lit under a harsh spotlight. “Congrats, you’re graduating to darts,” he said plainly, handing her a set of matte steel-tipped ones. “Practice for using the gun later. This’ll train your hand-eye control without needing a trigger.”

She wanted to ask why now, but didn’t. She knew better than to ask for praise from him.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was how suddenly his touch disappeared.

No more hands adjusting her wrists. No more shoulders pressed lightly behind her as he corrected posture. No more hovering presence that reminded her she was being watched, guided- trained.

Now, he stood on the other side of the gym, arms crossed, occasionally nodding when she landed a clean shot, occasionally correcting her form with nothing but a sharp word. It was colder, it was emptier- and for reasons she wasn’t ready to unpack, she hated it more than she could admit.

She’d gotten used to him. Not just his methods, but him- the way his presence filled the room like smoke- quiet but consuming. It was the way his voice cut through her overthinking, the way he only touched her when it mattered.

Now, she was left standing there, throwing darts into silence, craving something she couldn’t name without sounding stupid.

A few days later, over a late lunch, Jocelyn asked casually. “Is Riki still being an asshole to you?”

Y/N paused mid-sip of her iced coffee, then exhaled through her nose with a shrug. “I guess it’s the same,” she said flatly. “Yeah. He’s making me play darts now.”

It sounded so mundane when said out loud- darts. As if the word didn’t come weighted with hours of silent precision, as if it wasn’t now tangled with every complicated thought she’d refused to unpack since he started keeping his distance.

Jocelyn didn’t press her. She didn’t raise a brow or tilt her head in curiosity. She just nodded, like that answer was good enough- like of course it made sense.

And that’s when it hit Y/N- despite the annoyance Riki seemed to bring everyone- the insults, the eye rolls, the walls he built taller than most people could see over- they trusted him without question, without explanation. They followed his lead in a fight, deferred to his methods in training, and even Jay, the man who outranked him, never challenged the way Riki handled her.

They trusted that Riki would never hurt her. And, against all odds, she was starting to believe that too. Even if she still wanted to slap that deadpan look off his face most days.

VIII

Riki hadn’t meant to bring her to the gun range so soon. In his head, she still needed a few more weeks of drills- more form correction, more footwork, more discipline. He didn’t want to rush her into something she wasn’t ready for. That’s what he kept telling himself.

The truth, though, was simpler- she was getting good. And much faster than he’d expected. There was a sharpness in her, one that didn’t come from brute force or survival instinct. He watched it grow with every session, and the higher it climbed, the more he dug his heels in, refusing to say the one thing that kept biting at the edge of his tongue.

She was better than she should be.

But pride had never been Riki’s strong suit. So instead of telling her, he just texted her the location and time.

Gun range. 5 PM.

When she arrived, he was already there, loading magazines at the back table. The Glock lay in full view, polished, prepped, resting like it was waiting for her. And the second her eyes landed on it, her whole face lit up- wide-eyed, eager, the kind of grin that would’ve made someone else laugh, maybe even tease her. Riki didn’t do either, but he noticed it. And for a split second, the way her excitement filled the room reminded him of something younger- before orders, before violence had become muscle memory.

She looked at the gun like a child being handed a lollipop, and somehow, it didn’t make her look naive.

As she approached, he just nodded and motioned her closer. Then, without any fanfare, he stepped behind her, close enough that his presence could be felt but not overwhelming. His hand settled on her lower back, firm but careful, guiding her toward the right position. When he placed the Glock in her hands, he didn’t ask if she was nervous- he simply adjusted her fingers around the grip with the same precision he’d applied to every lesson before.

His chest brushed lightly against her back as he corrected her arms, lining her up with the target. One hand slid to her waist to adjust her balance; the other repositioned her wrist, steadying her elbow like she was an extension of his own movement.

“Breathe through your stomach,” he said quietly. “Not your chest.”

She didn’t respond, but he felt her body shift, her breathing grow deeper, slower. She was focused- more than he’d seen her yet.

When the shot rang out, it echoed clean through the chamber.

Dead center.

He blinked at the target, then at her. She hadn’t even flinched.

It was a better first shot than he’d ever pulled off.

For a second, he stayed behind her, watching the slight tremble in her arm settle, watching the way she held the weapon like it belonged to her. There was something tightening in his chest- something like respect, with edges he didn’t know how to name.

He stepped away before it could settle too deeply.

“Not bad, princess,” he said, flat as ever.

But he knew- and she knew he knew- that it was more than that.

And somehow, that made things even more complicated.

Later that night, when the house had settled into silence and the world outside had finally stopped demanding things of him, Riki sat alone in his room- lights off, window cracked open, the faint sounds of the city humming in the distance like a lullaby that didn’t quite land.

He had a habit of keeping things minimal. His room reflected that- clean, sparse, practical. A bed, a desk, a shelf lined with weapons he never bragged about, a set of notebooks he never let anyone read. Even the air felt sharpened by discipline, like nothing stayed unless it earned its place.

Tonight, though, his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. He leaned back in his chair, head tilted slightly against the wall behind him, eyes fixed somewhere in the dark. His body ached faintly from his own training, but that wasn’t what bothered him. It was her- Y/N. Not just her smile at the range, not just her aim. Her.

The way she stood a little taller these days. The way her jokes landed more confidently. The way she stared straight back at him when he criticized her, like she was daring him to look deeper and find something worth saying.

She’d started to take up space. Not in a loud, attention-seeking way, not like the girls he’d known before, who wanted to be admired or envied. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone- not even her father. Especially not him. And maybe that was what gnawed at him most.

She wanted this- the training.

And he hated that it made him care.

Because he’d promised himself long ago he wouldn’t get involved. Not with people who could be used against him. Not with people tied to bigger names, bigger consequences. And especially not with someone like her- someone who carried Andrei’s legacy like a blade pressed to the throat of every man in this house.

But still… when she shot dead center today, her posture steady, her eyes locked on the target like it was personal, he hadn’t seen Andrei’s daughter. He’d seen Y/N, who she’d been begging him to see, and that was dangerous. Because if he was honest with himself- and he rarely was- he didn’t know if he was more afraid of hurting her… or protecting her.

Both felt like weakness.

IX

By now, she’d memorized the sound of his voice when he called her princess. The first time he said it, it had dripped with condescension- like she was an intruder in a space built by blood and sweat, a spoiled girl playing pretend with knives. But lately, it hadn’t sounded like an insult anymore.

Riki still said it like it was muscle memory, like he didn’t even think about it. But Y/N could feel it in the air each time the word left his mouth. It no longer struck like a bullet- it brushed against her like a whisper, warm and low and maddeningly familiar.

She told herself she didn’t care- but it was starting to ruin her.

Today, when she walked into the gym, he didn’t even look up. He was standing near the far wall, hands wrapped in tape, posture loose but ready- like always. The only acknowledgment she got was a single nod and the flick of his eyes down to the knife laid out for her.

“Back to blades?” She asked, dropping her bag near the corner, pulling her hair up without waiting for a reply.

“You still hold it like you’re scared of it,” he muttered, finally tossing her a dull training knife. ��You want a gun, earn it.”

She caught the knife and rolled her eyes. “I did earn it.”

“You earned a lesson. Not the weapon.”

Y/N bit down her response. It was always like this- every compliment is buried under sharp edges. Every ounce of progress ignored- or worse, acknowledged in silence. Still, she stayed. Still, she showed up every time. And he knew she would.

The drills began- swift, methodical, exhausting in their repetition. Riki moved around her like a shadow, close enough to guide her, never close enough to feel safe. He adjusted her posture with two fingers on her back, fixed her grip with the curve of his palm against hers. Every brush of contact lit a fuse in her chest- short, sharp, breathless.

She hated how much her body noticed him now. The way he stood behind her to correct her stance, tall and composed, warmth bleeding through his shirt as he aligned her movements to his. The way his voice dipped lower when she was doing something right. The way he never admitted it out loud, but kept letting her go further anyway.

“You’re hesitating,” he said once, when she faltered mid-block.

“I’m not,” she whispered back, heart racing.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, unflinching. “Prove it.”

She didn’t look away- not this time.

Their next drill was closer in contact- something that would’ve flustered her a month ago. Now, it just made her aware of everything. The shape of his jaw, the slight hitch in his breath when she got the move right, the way his fingers lingered a beat too long on her waist when he stopped her momentum.

And when they broke apart, she missed his touch so sharply it almost made her stumble.

They didn’t speak of it. Neither of them mentioned the way the room suddenly felt hotter, or how time seemed to slow every time he looked at her. But it was there- it was in the silence.

It was in the way he handed her the blade before their final set and said, quietly, “ready, princess?”

The word settled on her like a secret. Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t even bring herself to smirk. She just nodded, eyes locked on his, pulse wild under her skin.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m ready.”

X

It was a routine afternoon when Jay showed up.

Training was supposed to be just the two of them- like always. Y/N had walked in ready, hair tied back, tank top clinging to her skin from the heat, that same practiced neutrality on her face that she tried to wear like armor around him. Riki had almost forgotten what it felt like to train anyone else. She took up so much space now, even when she was silent.

But then Jay strolled in, leaning casually against the gym doorway with his arms crossed and that signature unreadable expression that meant he was watching more than he let on.

“Don’t mind me,” Jay said, tone light but eyes sharp. “Just felt like watching for a change.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest. Y/N just nodded stiffly, shooting a glance at Riki that felt almost nervous.

The drills started. Knife work first, then light sparring, then stance correction. It all felt routine- except it wasn’t. Not with Jay’s eyes following every movement, not when Riki noticed the way Y/N’s composure faltered just a little more under observation; the way she smiled when Riki rolled his eyes at her, the way her laugh came out softer, quicker, like she didn’t mean for it to slip.

And Jay saw all of it.

He saw the way Riki’s hands hovered just a little longer on her waist when he corrected her balance, the way Riki’s jaw clenched every time she touched him and didn’t notice it. And the way he looked at her- God, how he looked at her.

Jay knew that look. It was the same look Jake used to give Jocelyn when Jay was a protective nutjob all those years ago. He himself had worn it before, years ago, with someone he couldn’t have.

When the session ended, Y/N grabbed her water bottle, barely glanced at them as she walked out- too flustered, too warm, too aware of whatever it was that lived in the air now. She gave Jay a quick, awkward wave. “See you later.”

He waited until she was gone, until her footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Then he turned to Riki. “So,” Jay said, voice flat now, arms still crossed, “you wanna tell me what that was?”

Riki didn’t even look up from where he was putting the blades away. “What was what?”

Jay scoffed. “Don’t play stupid. That tension? I could cut it with one of those knives you keep throwing at her.”

Riki shut the drawer with a little too much force. “Training. That’s all.”

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you’re looking too hard, Hyung.”

Jay stepped forward, voice still calm but edged now. “She’s Andrei’s daughter, Riki.”

That made Riki freeze- just a second too long.

Jay noticed.

“I know,” Riki muttered, voice lower now, the defensiveness creeping in despite him trying to keep it steady. “I haven’t done anything. Nothing’s happening.”

“Maybe not yet,” Jay said. “But don’t act like you’re not halfway there.”

Riki turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. His usual cool exterior was cracking- not completely, but enough to reveal the mess beneath. “She’s a trainee.”

“She’s not just a trainee,” Jay shot back. “And you know it,” Jay sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t get to mess this up. Not with her. Not with him watching us like hawks. If he even thinks you’ve crossed a line-”

“I haven’t,” Riki cut in sharply. “I won’t.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You can lie to me. But don’t lie to yourself,” he turned to leave but paused at the door. “Figure it out, Riki. Before someone else does,” and then he was gone, leaving Riki standing in the center of the gym, the silence ringing louder than any gunshot he’d ever fired.

Because deep down, beneath all the denial, beneath all the bravado, he already had crossed a line. He just didn’t know what to do with the part of him that didn’t want to go back.

XI

The air in the basement gym felt different that evening. Maybe it was the heat from the sparring mats or the hum of the overhead lights, or maybe it was something else- something that had been building quietly between them, day after day, in every unspoken word and every touch that lingered longer than it should’ve.

Y/N showed up a few minutes early, her water bottle still half-full from earlier that afternoon, strands of hair already sticking to her temple despite the shower she’d just taken. She found Riki already at the far end of the gym, shirt clinging to his back, sweat running down the curve of his neck, gloves hitting the punching bag in practiced, rhythmic bursts.

When he saw her, it was the same thing every time- that pause, that fraction of a second where the air seemed to thicken around them before he blinked, nodded, and turned away like nothing in his chest had tightened.

She set her bag down, smoothing her hands over her leggings. “I forgot my gloves,” she said, not expecting sympathy.

“You can go bare,” he muttered, not looking up. “It’ll toughen your hands.”

“Tough love again?”

“No. Just love.”

The words slipped out too quickly- too quiet, too smooth- and for a second, neither of them moved. But then he rolled his shoulder and stepped toward the corner of the room where the throwing knives were stored. “Get ready,” he said, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

But it had. She could feel it in her spine.

They went through warm-ups without speaking, but the silence wasn’t comfortable the way it used to be. It buzzed now, full of static. Every time she glanced at him, his eyes were already on her- watchful, unreadable, and far too soft for someone who used to cut her down with every word.

Then, without warning, he said, “We’re not doing blades today.”

She paused. “No?”

“No,” he replied, tossing a small black case onto the mat in front of her. “We’re doing this.”

Y/N crouched down, flipping open the case. Inside sat a matte black Glock 19. Her breath caught a little in her throat, not because of fear, but because this was it- this was the next step, the one she’d been waiting for without even realizing it.

“Seriously?” She asked, glancing up at him. “You're letting me fire this now?”

“You’re ready,” Riki said, already crossing the room toward the private firing range that had been installed in the far end of the basement. She wondered why he took her to a shooting range the last time. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She followed him with a quiet sense of awe, like a child being handed a key to a secret world. The thrill wasn’t just from the weapon- it was the way he trusted her with it. It meant he trusted her.

Inside the range, everything felt quieter, more closed-in. The walls were padded, the air cooler. He handed her protective earmuffs and adjusted her stance from behind, like always. But this time, when his hands came to rest on her wrists, she didn’t flinch. And he didn’t pull away.

“Grip tighter,” he murmured, voice brushing her neck with warmth. “Looser in the shoulders. You’re too stiff.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“You’re close.”

“I have to be.”

His breath was at her jaw now, and she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back, the firm press of his hands guiding hers toward the target. Every part of her was lit up, heart racing, skin alive with sensation that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’ve done this before,” he said softly.

“Not like this.”

Something about her voice made him freeze- ust for a second, just long enough.

She turned her head slightly, only to find that his face was closer than she expected- barely a few inches away. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, the faintest shadow of stubble at his jaw, the tension carved into his mouth.

He didn’t move. Neither of them did.

And for the first time, she leaned forward first. Only a fraction, only enough to feel the whisper of his breath across her lips.

But then, just before the space between them disappeared entirely- he stepped back. Not far, just enough to break the moment, just enough to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Focus,” he said. “Fire.”

And somehow, she did.

XII

It was late- one of those hushed, heavy nights where the house was still, and even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.

Riki had been pacing for twenty minutes before he finally gave in and knocked on Jake’s door. Not loudly- just enough to make sure he was awake, just enough that he wouldn’t have time to pretend otherwise.

Jake opened the door half-asleep, shirtless, hair messy, blinking hard against the dim hallway light. “You good?” He asked, voice gravelly.

“I need to talk.”

Jake stared at him for a beat, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Riki entered without a word, dropped onto the edge of the bed, palms rubbing over his face like they could scrub away the chaos in his chest. Jake sat across from him, leaning against the headboard, arms folded, waiting.

It took Riki a full minute to say anything.

“I think I’m fucking up.”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“Y/N,” Riki said quickly, like if he didn’t get it out now, he’d swallow it again and let it rot inside him. “I think-” He stopped, hesitating, then took a breath and tried again. “I know I acted like I hated her. I know I was awful to her at first. But something’s… changing.”

Jake tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

“I can’t focus around her,” Riki muttered, his voice lower now, like he didn’t want the walls to hear. “I’ll be mid-sentence and forget what I’m saying. I touch her waist to adjust her stance and my heart’s fucking racing. It wasn’t like this before. I feel like I’m slipping.”

Jake gave a small, knowing smile. “You like her.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.”

Riki let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Jay told you?”

“He told me what he saw in one of your sessions,” Jake said. “Said he’s never seen you look at anyone like that. Said she looked at you the same way back.”

“She can’t,” Riki said, shaking his head.

“And you can’t either. But look where we are.”

Riki looked away, jaw tight with shame and conflict. He wasn’t the type to let himself feel things. But this- whatever this was- had come in through the cracks before he even realized he’d left the door open.

Jake’s voice was gentler now. “How do you think Jocelyn and I even started?” Jake said, shrugging slightly. “It was innocent touches, glances we didn’t mean to hold. Eventually, I kissed her. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t stop myself anymore. And it worked out. Took time, sure. But it worked out.”

Riki didn’t speak, his fingers curling into the blanket beside him.

Jake leaned forward slightly. “This could work out too.”

Riki’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “She’s Andrei’s daughter,” he didn’t need to say more. That fact alone carried the weight of a thousand consequences and confessions.

But Jake didn’t mock him. “And Jocelyn is Jay’s sister. And I’m still alive,” he added with a half-smile. “But I made it through. Look, I know we’re all scared of Andrei. I don’t think that’s ever going away. But I also know one thing for sure- if his daughter wants something, she gets it.”

Riki looked up, uncertain. “You think she’d ask for me?”

Jake’s smile deepened, kind but knowing. “She will ask for you.”

And for the first time in days, Riki didn’t argue. He just stared down at his hands, the ones that had trained her, steadied her, touched her more times than he could count and wondered what the hell he’d do if she ever asked.

XIII

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how to ask for Riki.

He wasn’t some luxury commodity behind glass, not someone she could simply claim or corner. And yet… she wanted him- really badly. Enough that it settled into her bloodstream and made her skin prickle with awareness every time he stood too close or looked at her a second too long.

It was past the point of being a crush. Middle school infatuations didn’t keep you up at night. They didn’t make you forget how to speak, didn’t ruin your appetite, didn’t lodge themselves into your chest until every beat sounded like his name.

For all the hours they’d spent together in the gym, wrapped in silences and glances that came too close, she barely knew anything real about him. The story she pieced together came through fragments- things she’d overheard from guards lingering too long by the kitchen, from maids who whispered between rooms when they thought no one was listening.

They said Riki’s parents had done something- something unforgivable. Something that got him pulled into this world of bullets and blood before he was old enough to decide for himself.

She didn’t ask him. Not because she didn’t want to know- but because she could feel that line between them, the one drawn in silence, in pride. He’d tell her when he was ready. Or maybe he never would. And she’d learn to be okay with that.

But she had learned other things. She knew Riki only drank one brand of water- blue label, chilled, never room temperature. She’d seen him throw away a bottle once because it wasn’t cold enough. She knew that he cracked his knuckles before every new round of training- not out of nervousness, but as if his body needed it, a mechanical reset. She knew that when he helped her adjust her form, his fingers always lingered for exactly one second longer than necessary. She knew he always smelled faintly of cedarwood. And she knew, deep in the marrow of her bones, that he wanted her too. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself yet.

The next session started like any other. Riki barely looked at her when she entered. He tossed her a towel, gestured to the mat, and muttered something about drills. But she didn’t hear it. She was too focused on the way his jaw tensed when their shoulders brushed.

The gym was quiet. Only their breath and the scuff of sneakers against mats filled the air. The silence between them had changed again- it wasn’t cold or distant anymore. It was heavy and loaded. Every time they locked eyes, something passed between them- hot and unspoken.

Riki circled her as she moved, his gaze razor-sharp, hands in his pockets like he needed to stop them from reaching out.

“Back straight,” he said. “Left foot back.” She adjusted, slowly- she knew he was watching. “You’re doing that thing again,” he muttered.

“What thing?” She asked, breathless.

“The thing with your eyes. Darting. Like you’re thinking something you shouldn’t.”

She didn’t answer. Her chest rose and fell a little too quickly. His did too.

He stepped closer. “Y/N,” he said quietly. “Are you- ”

“I’m not thinking about anything,” she lied.

“You are.”

Her eyes met his. And something in him snapped. He didn’t speak. He didn’t warn her. He just moved. In one fluid, inevitable motion, Riki closed the distance between them, one hand cupping her jaw, the other wrapping tight around her waist as he pulled her in and kissed her. It wasn’t soft, nor was it polite. It was weeks of tension crashing at once- every stolen glance, every touch that lingered, every insult thrown like a defense mechanism.

His lips were warm, insistent, desperate in the way they claimed her. And she kissed him back like she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, his hair, anything she could hold onto as her world narrowed to the space between their mouths. His breath was shaky against hers, and when he finally pulled back just a few inches, their foreheads still touched.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “This is bad.”

Y/N’s lips curved, slow and sinful. “Feels pretty good to me.”

And he pulled her in again.

They hadn’t heard the footsteps. Too lost in each other, in the heat of lips meeting and breath catching, in the way Riki's hand had slipped beneath the curve of her jaw like he was holding something delicate for the first time in years. The world had narrowed to the sharp thrum of pulse and proximity- until it shattered.

“Hey,” Jay’s voice cut through the air like a slap of cold water, casual but just loud enough to be heard. “There’s someone at the gate who claims to be Y/N’s driver-”

They broke apart instantly.

Riki stepped back so fast he nearly tripped over the sparring mat, one hand dragging through his hair, the other stuffed deep into his pocket as if that would make him look less flushed. Y/N spun away from him, turning toward the nearest table and grabbing her water bottle like it had suddenly become the most important object in the world. Her chest still rose and fell a little too fast, her lips were still tingling.

Jay blinked from the doorway, taking in the sight before him- the wide space between them, the breathlessness, the too-casual way Riki avoided eye contact.

Y/N cleared her throat, too quickly. “Driver?” She repeated, brows furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. He calls me every time he’s on his way.”

Riki’s head snapped up. Jay paused mid-step, the faintest chill sliding into his voice. “That’s… not your driver?”

“No,” Y/N said, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask anyone to come tonight.”

Jay didn’t wait for further explanation. “Let’s go.”

The three of them moved quickly through the hallway- Jay in the lead, Riki silently but tightly flanking Y/N’s side like a shadow, his entire body coiled with tension. Behind them, her two assigned bodyguards followed without a word, guns no doubt already unclipped from their holsters.

Through the glass, under the yellow porch lights, stood a man- clean-shaven, suit pressed to the last crease. He held the composure of someone who wanted to look harmless- too put together, too calm.

Y/N squinted. “I’ve never seen him before.”

That was all Riki needed. He stepped forward first, arm across her instinctively, like it had become second nature now. “Stay behind me.”

Jay glanced sideways, expression steel. “Heeseung,” he called out into the house and he appeared from the stairs. “Get his plates. If he moves, shoot.”

The second guard was already reaching for the knob. He opened the door with a steady hand.

The man outside gave a small bow, smiling politely. “Good evening. I’m here for Miss Y/N-”

“What’s the name of her real driver?” Riki cut in, voice sharp enough to wound.

The man hesitated. His smile twitched.

That was all the confirmation they needed.

In a flash, both guards surged forward, seizing the imposter. He fought harder than expected- he wasn’t just a fake chauffeur, he was trained- but they had him down in under a minute, knee to his back, wrists already bound. Riki didn’t blink as the scene played out in front of him. But his fingers curled into fists.

Y/N, meanwhile, stood silent, breath caught halfway in her chest, wide-eyed and stiff. Her gaze stayed locked on the man now pinned to the ground- just another reminder that her world wasn’t normal, that she couldn’t afford to slip. That being Andrei’s daughter wasn’t just a title- it was a target.

Jay’s voice broke the silence. “That’s the second time someone’s tried to take you in six months.”

Without thinking, Riki reached out- just a touch to her wrist, grounding her. “I’ve got her,” he said quietly, mostly to Jay. “I’ll stay with her.”

Jay looked at him for a long, long moment, questioning the integrity in his voice. Then he nodded.

And for the first time, Y/N didn’t flinch from Riki’s hand- she leaned into it.

XIV

The aftermath of the kidnapping attempt left behind more than shaken breath and rattled nerves- it rewrote the rules completely. The very next morning, without ceremony or explanation, Andrei made a decision. There would be no more training at Jay’s house. No more shared spaces or group dinners or the illusion that Y/N was just another girl among her father’s closest allies.

“She stays at home,” he said into the phone, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “If she trains, he comes to her. End of discussion.”

Within hours, the mats from Riki’s gym were relocated, the gear packed and installed in one of Andrei’s lesser-used spare rooms- a space that had once been decorated in heavy velvet curtains and antique frames, now stripped to its bones and dressed in greys, reds, and pale yellows- Riki’s signature palette. The room felt clinical, impersonal, almost too neat, as if pretending that none of this was complicated, as if hearts weren’t involved.

Y/N was already there when Riki arrived- punctual, poised, dressed down in leggings and a plain black tank, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that sat snugly above her neck. But despite her usual composure, she didn’t feel steady. There was a subtle jitter in the way her hand gripped her water bottle, and something flickered behind her eyes- nerves, sparks, confidence.

Riki didn’t say anything at first. He simply stepped in, set down his bag in the corner, and nodded toward the mat.

“Start warming up,” he said, his tone quiet, unreadable- as usual.

And yet, even from the other end of the room, the weight of everything unsaid settled heavily in the air between them- the echo of their kiss from the day before still lingering like fingerprints on skin. It clung to the space around them, invisible but impossible to ignore.

They started with stretches, the kind of drills that required just enough focus to pretend everything was normal, but not enough to stop them from glancing at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Riki moved stiffly, his usual ease replaced by hesitance, like he was caught between muscle memory and new habits. He guided her through the routine, correcting her posture with the tips of his fingers, letting his hand linger a second too long on the small of her back before catching himself and stepping away.

Y/N noticed, of course she did. And she hated that it made her smile.

Knife drills came next, the same sequences they’d done dozens of times, but now, every touch- every movement of his hand over her wrist, every adjustment of her stance, every moment where his chest brushed lightly against her back as he leaned in to reposition her grip- felt different. It was no longer just training. It was choreography laced with friction, and the steps were starting to blur.

At one point, she turned to face him directly, her eyes a little darker than usual, her voice lower when she said, “You’re distracted.”

Riki met her gaze, brows raised. “You’re not?”

She opened her mouth to answer but didn’t. Because the truth was- she was. She was more than distracted, she was drowning in the gravity of whatever this thing was becoming.

They stood there, staring, the room too quiet, too still.

And then he took a step forward. He didn’t ask, didn’t give her the chance to overthink it. One moment, there was space between them- and the next, there wasn’t. His hand found her face first, fingers curling softly beneath her jaw, tilting her toward him with a tenderness that contrasted everything about how he’d treated her the last few weeks. His thumb brushed lightly across her cheek, like he was learning her face for the first time, like he was memorizing something he didn’t want to forget.

Then he kissed her.

Not out of impulse, not out of frustration, not because the world had stopped- but because he finally understood that he wanted to. Not just the kiss, not just the way she looked at him like he was more than a soldier or a weapon, but her.

He kissed her because there was no more pretending otherwise.

She leaned into it without hesitation, hands sliding up to his chest, anchoring herself in the rhythm of it, letting herself sink into the security of his arms and the warmth of his mouth and the weight of his unspoken confession.

When they finally pulled apart, breath mingling in the sliver of space left between them, neither of them spoke. Her hands still rested lightly against his chest, his fingers still curved gently along her jaw, and though the kiss had ended, neither of them stepped back. The air between them, once charged with tension and uncertainty, had fully softened. It wasn’t awkward, and it wasn’t restrained. It was just them, suspended in the calm that followed, finally giving in and the risk of being together under Andrei’s roof.

And somehow, that made it all the more desired.

XV

They never talked about the kiss. Not the first one, not the second- not any of them. But they happened. Between drills, between breathless rounds of sparring, between the weight of his hand on her lower back and the way she glanced at his mouth when he corrected her stance- they happened, swift and natural, like gravity..

It wasn’t a performance. There was no dramatic build-up, no declarations of want or need- just fleeting moments.

Sometimes, she’d land a clean hit during a knife drill, and the thrill of it would make her grin too wide. And he’d grab her wrist, tug her toward him, and press a kiss to her mouth like it was the most normal thing in the world- congratulating her.

Other times, when she was too tired to finish her reps but refused to quit, he’d stand behind her, hands on her shoulders, grounding her- and she’d turn without thinking, meet him halfway with parted lips and fluttering lashes. And he’d kiss her, slow, like punctuation to a sentence they never dared speak aloud.

They didn’t talk about it because they didn’t have to. Because they both knew- deep in their chests, in their locked eyes, in the way their hands lingered after every touch- that whatever this was, it had already sunk its roots in. And there was no pulling it out now.

But they did talk- about everything else. Between sets and cooldowns, they learned each other in bits and pieces. She told him about the time she failed her driving test three times, and he laughed- actually laughed, rare and unguarded. He told her about his mother’s cooking, how he still missed it sometimes even though she hadn’t made a meal in years. She learned he didn’t like sweet things, hated the sound of sirens, and always tied his right boot tighter than his left. He learned she liked old films and slept with a reading lamp on. They traded stories like offerings- gentle, ordinary confessions in the middle of an extraordinary situation.

Riki knew he was playing a dangerous game. That if Andrei found out, he wouldn’t just vanish, he and his entire family would be incinerated. But that didn’t exactly stop him.

Because when she looked up at him after landing her best shot, cheeks flushed, pride glowing from her collarbones to her temples, he didn’t see a boss’s daughter, he didn’t see risk. He just saw her.

And when she kissed him- quick and secret, breathless and hot between whispered curses- she didn’t see her trainer, or a soldier, or someone who could be gone tomorrow. She saw him.

And so, the kisses continued- secretive, dashing, daring. But soft and vulnerable all wrapped together like a present.

They built a rhythm in those days. A ritual that was half training and half undoing. He’d correct her grip on the gun, his arms enclosing hers- and she’d lean back slightly, as if daring him. He’d press a kiss to her neck when no one was looking. She’d bite back a smile. Sometimes she’d kiss him mid-sentence- interrupting his scolding about footwork with a grin and her mouth on his, just a second, just enough to make him forget his next word.

And it scared him. Because if he didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop at all.

But for now- for these stolen moments, these dangerous little tastes of something forbidden- he let himself fall… just a little.

Because if being near her was a crime, then every kiss was worth the sentence.

XVI

Jocelyn hadn’t meant to catch it. She had only called Y/N for a quick chat- one of their usual midday check-ins, a moment to vent about the guards being too stiff, the tea being too cold, or Jake leaving his socks everywhere. But as they spoke, Jocelyn caught something else entirely. It wasn't in Y/N’s words, but in her tone- the softness that slipped through when she said Riki’s name, the almost-laugh that caught in her throat when she recounted how he’d corrected her grip too firmly, or how he’d teased her over her stance.

He called her princess.

It was a familiar lilt- one Jocelyn recognized with aching precision. She had once sounded like that too. Still did, when she spoke about Jake in those rare, vulnerable moments- that unguarded fondness, the grin behind the words.

Y/N was falling.

Jocelyn could hear it in the quiet between her sentences.

And yet, she didn’t immediately bring it up. For days after the call, she sat with the realization, unsure of what to do with it. She didn’t want to sound the alarm, didn’t want to startle something fragile before it had fully grown into itself. But in the end, she told Jay- not to expose Riki, not to get anyone in trouble- just so that it wouldn’t be a surprise when it inevitably came to light. Because it would- these things always did.

“Go easy on him, Jay,” she said gently after she told him. “He’s honestly still just a kid.”

Jay didn’t respond. He’d just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But she saw the way his jaw tightened, how he exhaled a little too slowly- the way someone did when they were calculating the distance between what they wanted to say and what they knew they had to.

The next afternoon, Riki was folding laundry in his room, half-mumbling to himself about a sock that had disappeared and how the dryer probably ate it. His phone was playing something offbeat in the background, and for a second, it almost looked like peace. Almost.

Jay walked in without knocking, the door creaking open behind him. His presence alone changed the temperature of the room. “We need to talk,” he said, voice low but firm.

Riki turned, confused, arms full of unfolded shirts. “What is it, Hyung?”

Jay shut the door, the sound sharp and final behind him. “Drop the act, you little shit.”

Riki blinked. “What-?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Jay interrupted. His tone wasn’t raised, but it carried weight- that same unsettling calm he’d inherited from their early days, when authority didn’t have to be loud to be terrifying.

Riki stood there, awkward and cornered, the shirt in his hands suddenly feeling much heavier than cotton. “I… I don’t-”

“Don’t play dumb.” Jay stepped forward, slowly. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t know?”

There was a pause. Riki’s mouth opened slightly as if to respond, then closed again. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“I watched you train her,” Jay continued. “I saw the way you looked at her. The way she looked at you. The tension. The way she couldn’t stop smiling, and you-” Jay exhaled through his nose. “You were practically vibrating.”

Riki couldn’t even deny it.

“You kissed her?” Jay asked, eyes narrowed.

After a beat, Riki nodded once.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “That’s it. We’ve kissed. But I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, Hyung. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

Jay sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring hard at the floor as though it would give him the answer he needed. “Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

Riki hesitated, then nodded. “I do. I think about it all the time.”

Jay looked up. “Then why are you still doing it?”

Riki swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can stop,” Jay was quiet. “I know it’s stupid,” Riki went on, his voice breaking with honesty. “I know she’s Andrei’s daughter, I know it could ruin everything. But when I’m with her… it doesn’t feel like that. It’s not about power or danger or names. It’s just… her.”

Jay’s expression shifted- not quite soft, but no longer severe. He studied Riki for a long moment before asking, “Do you love her?”

Riki’s breath hitched- he didn’t answer right away. But that silence was answer enough. “I think I’m starting to,” he said finally.

Jay leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “God, you’re both idiots.”

“I know.”

“I mean it,” Jay added, lips twitching into something close to a smile. “This is dangerous. It’s reckless. It could get us all killed.”

“I know,” Riki repeated. “I’m killed.”

“But,” Jay sighed. “I also know what it’s like to fall for someone when you’re not supposed to. When everything says it’s a bad idea. Well- I don’t. But my sister does.” Jay stood, hands on his hips now. “And yeah, I was angry. But it also gave me everything. I wouldn’t take that back.”

Riki’s eyes softened.

“So,” Jay continued, eyes locking with his, “I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to tell you to end it. But I am going to say this- be smart. Be respectful. Be honest. Don’t treat this like a phase, or a game.”

“I’m not,” Riki said. “I swear.”

Jay nodded slowly. “When the time comes- when Andrei finds out- you won’t face it alone. I’ll stand with you. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A long breath passed between them. The room felt a little lighter, like permanence had shifted beneath the surface.

Riki nodded. “Thank you, Hyung.”

Jay reached out, ruffled his hair- firm, almost fond, like how he used to when he first met Riki. “Just don’t make me regret it, you punk.”

[btsreadss]

cast: jay ✗ fem.reader (ft. riize's wonbin, aespa’s ningning, enhypen and &team’s 02 liners, and riize's hyung line)

synopsis: jay has always been a loomer, an introvert, and an outsider in a group of people others presumed were bad. looming in the shadows in the corner of the parties full of drinks, drugs, and sex, can only be seen with the flame of his cigarette in the dark. out of the blue, an orange flame is ignited in the dark corner, creating a silhouette of another person, another loomer, standing beside him

genre: lonely people in neon cities, drama, romance, early 00s au, angst, mature content (consumption of drugs, explicit smut)

inspired by: music my bloody valentine's "loomer" (1991) (genre: dream pop/shoegaze), movie fallen angels (1995) and millennium mambo (2001)

word count: 28896 (28.8k)

warning(s): domestic abuse, sexual assault (groping), toxic relationship (not jay), infidelity (not jay), possessive behaviour, bruises and wounds, drug consumption (cigarette and alcohol, mention of ecstasy and marijuana), mention of suicide attempt, implication of alcohol amnesia (black out), explicit sex, unprotected sex, rough sex but also love making, manhandling, hand job (m & f received), oral job (f receive), creampie (if there is something i forgot, let me know)

message of the moon: remember that this story is fiction and do be careful and read the warnings at the top. all the idols mentioned here are not what they are in real life.

welcome! will be speedrunning the notes: this is set in seoul year 2000-2001 so there’ll be mentions of the 1997 asian financial crisis, BUT since i was born in 2003 and am an asian whose country was affected by the crisis—but not a korean, it’s not gonna be 100% accurate. though, I’ve tried my best with my research, especially regarding the culture of that time. also, this is, more or less, a character study for the main leads so it will be a layer-by-layer discovery from their povs. this is also part of my closed milestone collab "discover: 200" which you can check out! enjoy :D p.s. wear helmets when riding motorcycles!

playlist | visualizer part of the loveless anthology | an entry for equinox: the escapist

even under the closed lids of his eyes, jay could still see the dancing lights contrasting from the darkness.

the sound of the electro music playing shakes his surroundings, joined by the shuffling of people's feet in any open space that they could step in whatever the space's size. a microcosm of the crowds at the night market outside, or even the microcosm of the seoul metropolitan city. his heart beats with the bass thumping from the nearby speaker—transferring the sonic waves of the disc jockey performing on stage across the room. his ears are picking up the grainy scratch of the vinyl disc as the needle reads the printed sound wave, a slightly twangy pitch rising as the bpm gets faster and faster to make the transition to the next track seamless. cheers and exclaims follow from the young people who just a few years ago have just grown into adulthood alongside the new millennium, dancing the night away as they consume any experimental thing they're brave enough to do, even if they might regret it the next day.

jay should also do so. but he is a loomer.

a term coined by himself; an obvious answer to tell if someone asks him what he is doing most of the time. wallflower was a term he defined himself most in his younger years, as it was the only relatable word for him, but he doesn't think he is a flower of some sort. a flower blooms and reacts when the light shines on it. he, on the other hand, takes steps away so as to not be under a small sliver of it. the splash of the club's neon lights is making jay feel farther and farther away from the four walls of the club, mentally and physically. yet he preferred that to the day's sun. he's glad that he can walk around the night as it still acts like the rest of the day; business are doing their best as they recover from the financial crisis that happened before the turn of the century.

the shadow is jay's only haven against the piercing tints of hues that lift the club's atmosphere. just like it, his muted demeanour exudes a mystic aura to anyone around him. no one other than his gang and his family has ever heard him speak. his facial expressions are animated enough to tell what he's thinking—if they can read it under the obscurity of the shadow and the commotion. his black attire from head to toe definitely helps with it too, letting him blend more into the night, even underneath the neon signs of the streets; both from walking on the pavement or reflected on the body of his trusted kawasaki ninja bike.

the moisture produced from his closed eyes makes his vision blurry when he slowly opens them. the sporadically moving spotlights shine their colour-changing beam all around the crowded room. people rubbing against each other—well, grinding for the people who he can predict will end the night together—following the rhythm of the track playing as clouds of white smoke and splashes of alcoholic beverage exude from them. scents of people's sweat combining as they move their heads and bodies along, between them being sober, drunk, or intoxicated by a more dangerous chemical drug like ecstasy. he tried said drug once. and he swore to never try it again after he didn't sleep for the next 24 hours. just like the name "ecstasy" entails; being too high on the substance and it makes him not his usual gloomy self—something he hates to think about after his drug trip. his ribs showed prominently as his sober self felt how sweaty his upper body was all over his skin, never stopping until the chemical was gone from his body from dancing and drinking. even though jay says no after that trip, his friends are still doing so as he's alright with his alcohol and cigarettes—sometimes a joint of weed if nicholas gets a few rolls.

even with the darkness covering most of the club, his eyes have adapted to the dark and can still detect where his friends are: nicholas trading with someone at a pillar beside the bar, jake and euijoo enjoying the girls that their booth's "regulars" every time he and his friends come, while sunghoon is openly making out on the dance floor with a girl he recognized to be the guy's ex-fling. while his friends are doing their usual shenanigans, here he is: in his dark corner, hiding from everyone. each time one of the regular girls comes to sit at his gang's regular booth, his alert self always stands up to walk to his usual spot in the corner—which usually does not take long at all because they could even come before his drink is being served. jay still wonders how his gang still wants him within them, even with his more closed-off demeanour. wealth seems to not be a problem as he recognises his friends are also people with easy access to money—all of them meeting each other when enrolling in an international school throughout their school days—and power is also not it when the balance seems to be fair for all five of the gang. maybe the diversity of personalities is what makes them let him stay; being the only one openly closed off even among the introverts in his gang; which are him, euijoo, and sunghoon.

shaking his head as he lets his thoughts float away, jay pulls out the recognisable thick paper box from one of his pant pockets, flipping the top open as he pulls one small yet long cylinder out. replacing it with a small boxy shape, his calloused fingertip rubs against the lighter wheel before flicking it, seeing the spark fly before the rest of the orange flame lights up as he inhales while placing the flame on the tip. the hot and bitter smoke scratches the back of his mouth when he puts out the fire and pulls the cigarette away from between his lips, slightly opening his mouth as the smoke floats outside of him, even outside of his shadowy corner as the spotlight goes through it. yet, no one seems to notice him at all—a small smile tugging the corner of his lips when he also realised that.

jay's body returns to its original position: leaning against the graffiti-covered wall of the corner as he lets his vision continue on his usual observation night by night, puffing it up and returning it to the side of his body in the usual intervals he often does whenever he smokes. the flying acid-scented haze filters what he sees as his eyes stuck on the booth where his friends are now sitting—both nicholas and sunghoon have returned to join jake and euijoo. all four of them now playing a drinking game along with the girls who seem to snuggle up on the over-capacity semi-circle of the booth's velvet seat. he can see the orange flame crawling inside the cigarette below him as he flicks the burnt ash onto the dirty concrete floor.

then, a small spotlight is suddenly on him, making the boy grimace for a split second from the unexpected shine. anyone might intend to focus on it and find him as a result, but jay didn't detect any signs of that. his friends do just that as he usually sees them looking towards his way once every few minutes, the same drunk-like smiles showing from all of them as they take turns to take a shot from whatever drinking game they're playing. even with it, he can't help the other thoughts from within his mind's vault creeping in. how his friends might let him go someday; how he will be teased again for his quiet demeanor, like what he experienced back in his school years; and many more troubling thoughts that have summed up in his mind since he could remember. he has buried them as best as he can. but a minuscule crack is always enough for it to leak back into his conscious mind.

the flame that illuminates a fraction of his being is enough to let the world know he exists; even with the thoughts clouding his mind. stress and burden seemed to fall away in tiny bits as he could see the flame coming closer and closer to the fingers that he pinched the stick in between. under the layers of booming music from the speaker and his free hand wrapping in front of his torso, he hears a small click and a small orange light coming from the dark side, where it was supposed to be the deepest part of his shadowy blanket.

a trembling breath, a puff, and a hot cloud that flies in front of him later, jay finally turns his head around to follow the trail of smoke and sound.

"fuck! sorry for startling you."

the low-volumed sound waves interact with him first as jay looks to the other orange flame on the blunt end, seeing its source behind the faint light coming from the lit up cig. a tint of green coming from the spotlight beam adds to the visage as it captures one side of the person's face clearer. there is also something glimmering under the light before the beam turns away once again to the heads in the crowd.

"and for smoking…" the person's speaking pace slows, the hand holding the stick suspended in the air. the person's eyes find the boy's more visible side coming from where he is positioned. the dancing crowd becomes a background of his presence as the person, you, are deeper in the corner; resting your head on the other wall that connects the corner together. a few of the light beams that reach behind his head can still help you make out his facial features.

sharp. fierce. cold.

you watch him let out a smirk, one corner of his lips lifted, creating a charming yet smug smile, as he lifts his other hand up and you recognise that burnt tip anywhere, nearly finished as the fire almost meets his skin. he's not flinching even with the warmth inching closer and closer, adding more to his intimidating impression.

"uh huh…" you sounded, tilted your head before nodding as you let yourself take another drag from your own cig. jay continues as he has now realised just how short the burning stick on his hand has become before putting it out by throwing it on the ground and crushing it under his shoe's sole. his hand approaches the box that he pockets and picks up another stick. but when he wants to flick the flame up from his lighter, a brighter orange light comes from beside him. cigarette between his lips, he turns once again to see you and your other hand on your lighter, the flame dancing lightly as no other breeze can affect them inside the room other than people's kinetic movement and their breaths.

pushing the end of his cig to it, jay's eyes observe you who is more visible behind the bright yet small dancing fire: pulling out your own stick from your lips as they open a little bit, letting the hot smoke out before you blow the rest to the air between the two of you. also, he could finally see the glimmering coming from you that he saw a few seconds from when the spotlight hit a tiny piece of you: the silver buckle of your black leather choker.

you quickly put out the lighter as jay discovered how burnt the wrapping paper is from staying on the fire for too long. he clears his throat before returning to inhale and exhale the smoke. from the smell of it, your cig has a hint of menthol that clashes with his woody vanilla-esque smell he loves. you must enjoy sipping a drink along with doing so as the mouth cavity does become "cooler" from the mint-on-cold combination. you were also wearing an all-black ensemble from head to toe, your hair framing your face in a perfect mix of grungy-messy but still shaped enough that it doesn't look as frantic as the other girls he saw wearing too excessive an amount of hairspray to make it puffy. your eyes, however, were moving around to see the view. but it contrasts with how slow you let the smoke out—the way your chest is on a steady, slow pace. jay's eyes return to the view outside of his dark bubble, but he couldn't let go and just ignore the presence of another human being beside him.

the beating bass still fills the room up but jay could still hear you grunt as you pull out your phone from your pocket. it vibrates against your hand as you flip the top open, skim-reading the screen before tucking it back into your pocket once again. your eyes look around in the dark before they met with his, his tongue subtly rubbing against the tar that sticks onto his teeth. your lips formed into a thin line as you threw your burnt cig onto the floor before crushing it in one go with your combat boots. blowing a strand of hair from your forehead, you lean back against the wall to breathe in the club's air—no matter how stinky it is. it all seems natural to you and similar to him. your mannerism, even in the dark, seems to naturally flow; your no-colour outfit makes you try to hide yourself even in a place like this, where someone like you is more approachable than him.

jay now realised that you are also a fellow loomer. though he doesn't know if you know what the word meant.

"sorry for startling you…" he heard mutters to see your lips move along with what you said. your voice is a tad bit raspy from the smoke burning inside. jay lets out a slow nod as your lips settle back into their original structure, a small tug on your lips.

"this is also my favorite corner every time i go here." you continue even with the few seconds of silence between the two of you. "it's dark enough that people can't see you even with one glance and it's not near any of the most populated area of the club." a regular, jay assumed, but he never saw you here before. jay does have a few places he frequents with his friends. clubs aren't his thing even if he visits them often—he prefers to hang out underneath the bridge on the side of the han river—but this is where the gang hangs out the most. a base camp of some sort. though he rests in the shadows, he could still recognise people whom he often views. but with the way your eyes are flicking around the vast chromatic space outside of the corner, you still are confused about the layout of the place. you're not a regular at all.

"though when you like standing idly in the dark, there might be someone that notices you're here…" your voice trails off, realising that you were talking to him, implicitly asking if what you said was also true to him or not. his eyes catch yours as you let your fingers rest beside you, a rhythm created from your fingertips meeting the wall while you exhale and inhale in a slow beat. eyes closing as you lick your lips. the wrinkles between your eyebrows reacting as you were thinking of something, but the way your chest sometimes still staggering in between your calm flow sets an alarm in his mind.

that's when jay heard more shuffling feet than usual around the bar and booths.

his eyes settled on his friends as they all seemed to notice it too. the girls hanging by their sides all cower closer to them as the crowd around the bar stools is still as full, but when it usually moves like the current of the river, now becomes more tense—even he could feel that by looking at their stiff shoulders. his lips pop from tasting the residue of the cigs as his eyes focus on the crowd moving unnaturally. someone must be pushing people around to go past the crowd. squinting his eyes, he could see a group trying to push towards the location where he and you are. and a glimpse of the top of the head is enough for you to grab something the nearest to you: his wrist.

the breathy sound comes back as jay looks at your darkened silhouette, eyes staring at the dispersing crowd. sensing it, you turn to him as you try to compose yourself. but the way your eyes glisten from the spotlight highlights more moisture near your tearducts that send alerts to his consciousness. still frantically looks away at the crowded space, but he sees how your jaw clenches.

"take me out of here." your sight returns to meet him and that's when he fully sees the darkness inside you. not the evil nor the lustful kind. but another intense feeling.

"please…"

fear.

jay reacts as he brushes your hand off his wrist before clasping it with his palm, fingers curling as he drags you outside into the colourful shine. the unexpected movement doesn't hurt his eyes as he sees all the colours blurry. hands locking with yours, he let his feet navigate the outskirts of the dancing crowd, stepping in front of people who were also standing by the wall. some recognise him and some aren't as he gave a small knowing nod with his resting face. his eyebrows furrowed as he saw the doorframe beside the jockey's booth. the lights were flickering on and off, but only people who recognise it can see it—even though it's obscured by the absence of the light.

your body felt light even if he dragged you, quickly adapting to his pace and the path he was taking you. your ears are getting more and more buzzed as the boy drags you closer to the speakers. but even with the bass booming, your eyes still look behind you as you catch the pair of eyes you don't want to see.

"(Y/N)!" though muffled by the music, you can still hear him scream your name as you push the boy forward, making him stagger before you return his icy gaze with your concerned ones.

as they both reach the doorframe, jay quickly wraps your shoulder with his arm as he guides you to the hallway filled with graffiti and a few people making out against each other. his eyes only saw one thing: the door with the neon green exit sign on the top. the back entrance was what the employees used, but he and his friends knew about this after they scouted the nearest exit if a police raid happened—which he had escaped from a few times. the employees doesn't even bat an eye at him as he knows how much he and the gang has spend on this establisment ever since this became their hangout spot, some of the women even give him a sly wink knowing something he subconsciously know after observing his booth so much and the girls hanging out there—thinking you were one of them.

the fresh air was a taste he missed as he stepped onto the alley right beside the dumpster. the exterior lights of some businesses don't reach deep into the alley, so they can let both of you stand and blend into the shadows. but that is still not enough when you recall the person you escaped from was following you. then, the person is definitely gonna know about this back exit.

"do you have any trans-transport?" you're holding onto your chest. "fuck- don't mind it. the subway station is near here-"

"my bike is this way." eyebrows raised, you didn't expect him to reply while jutting his chin to the road where the front door is..

the boy's voice is gravelly–influenced by the cig, but it is definitely his regular voice—but it doesn't seem as cold as his demeanour.

it's warm.

maybe the warmest voice you've heard in a while.

jay didn't see the strap of the black bag across your chest before he heard the familiar rumbling, even with the muffled song inside behind the walls. he took the initial steps when he heard your shuffling feet on the same pace as his as you both walked towards the shining neon lights decorating the street. people walking to and fro as he and you blend in perfectly under the white lights of the streetlamps. his eyes peek towards you as he can now fully see you with the light. beside the hair that covers your cheek, he can see the small strip of bandage on the cheekbone area, a scar across the bridge of your nose, and a faded bruise on the corner of your right lip. he chuckles to himself as he stops his hand before rubbing against his own bruise on his left cheekbone—a result of an altercation he had yesterday, the usual gang thing that seems so simple yet all of the people are stubborn. he also seems to be so when he can still feel the scabs on his knuckles to punch the guy that punched him before sunghoon took care of the rest.

both of you aren't that different after all.

your eyes stare at the rows of motorbikes before the boy sets his eyes on one of them. the black color of its body reflects who he is perfectly as you see him tugging his black outer closer to him, untying the black bandana tied on the handle as if to tell people that this specific bike belongs to him. the adrenaline is still flowing in you as you see him pulls the bike backward and straddles into the leather seat. the way his long legs anchor the bike to the ground as he stabilises himself, tying the bandana behind his head and covering the lower part of his face, leaving his eyes visible. the lights at the parking area shine on him and you now notice streaks of navy blue highlights on his hair. it looks like he dyed it without having to bleach it up, making it so that only people who have a keen eye can detect the two different colours.

"the name's (y/n)," you spoke out. the boy turns his head towards you when you tilt your head.

"guess i should introduce myself before you took me away." your face contorts, the pain on the right side of your lips coming up again as you hold your best to not show him that you are still hurting. the dark is friendly enough to not let people know how battered your face is. even telling people asking about you "i'm fine" is getting sickening as you try to escape people you know, especially those who also know him.

"jay," you pick up as he gazes at you before signalling to the space on the seat behind him. you give a small smile as you pluck a cig out of your own teal-accented box—quickly go into the routine as the spark from the wheel creates the fire that burns the cig before you set it off. jay turns the key to the bike as the rumbling machine turns on and combines with the sound of the vehicles on the street. while you slowly climb up the higher back of the bike, the movement makes you have to adjust your choker and you give him a whisper of "okay" before he pushes his feet off the ground and turns the handle, revving the bike as it lurches down the path and to the road.

the way gravity works makes you have to rest your head against jay's back, feeling his spine even under the layers of clothes as you take another puff of your deadly stick. the smoke flies away quickly by the wind that the speed of the bike makes. it's been a long time since you rode a motorcycle, since the last time you remember was back home when you rode it with your mom behind you, guiding you on how to use it as you tried your best to balance yourself. that was years ago, back in high school, and here you are in the big city. the thrilling rush reminds you of home as you breathe in the clear air, missing the smell of salt in the air that usually accompanies it.

your eyes glance outwards as you see jay driving you both through tunnels that cut through the city, swerving around cars and other slower bikes as you let your other hand grip onto jay's waist. the burning ash flies away from the tip from how fast it is as you continue to smoke—eyes were watering too because of the wisps into them. it's very cool against your skin as the only source of warmth is the body in front of you and the burning stick that is on the verge of dying. in a natural for you, you tug closer to the warmth as your other hand now rests around the front of jay, hoping he doesn't mind it.

signs made of glow decorate the streets as you read the writings on them. bars and restaurants names written in hangul and some in the alphabet make your starving stomach react once again. it didn't take long as the boy stopped the bike on one of the parking lots where many motorcycles park. your head lifts up from the broad back as you see the many plastic roofs of street booths, smelling the tasty aroma flowing through the air. after putting out the cigarette while letting jay finish parking the bike, you rub your palms against your arms to send the friction heat streaming through you. the chilly night's air becomes more and more colder as the moon rises, or maybe it's falling down to the western horizon because of how late it is.

the street has barricades to prevent any vehicles to come in to the perimeter. the bustling sounds of chatters make the block alive as the smell of a familiar fragrance enters your nose, making your stomach rumble once again. jay walks from the parked bike and stands beside you, the bandana now pulled down and hanging by his neck as he also encloses more of his black outer piece. roofs of different colored tents reflect the shine on them as if they exude the colour by themselves. the sound of scraping of aluminium against the wok is harmonising with the sizzling. entering through the small gap between the tents from the parking lot, you were met with the nightly food market. rows of plastic-made tables and chairs stretch through the street to accommodate any customers who are eating. most are definitely adults as you also see a few specks of them bringing their little children—the older children have school for the next day and missed out on the delicious cuisine.

footsteps walking nearly in sync as you and he gaze at the kinds of food being sold here. jay has been to this market before—one of his favourites to buy takeaways so that he can stock up for tomorrow's meal. it's also a go-to place for him to buy food before going to the han river and return back into his shadow; especially if he wants more asian cuisine because the snack bar sells mostly westernised food. hunger still exists even in the blanket of darkness, and with both of them fulfilled at the same time, jay feels like a happier man. while one doesn't expect it, he has a very caring relationship with food. jay could remember the memories of seeing his mom cooking something in the kitchen, like miyeokguk for his birthdays or the occasional kimchi that she's mixing before letting it ferment. he still gets kimchi from her once a month, and even that with white rice is enough for him.

"chinese food sounds delicious," he glances at you as you stare at the blue-tinted booth that is nestled in a building with a protruding tent canopy as chairs and tables fill the area. jay stares at the unrecognisable characters painted on the glass pane—he still can't understand it even after enrolling in a hanja class back in his first year of college.

"if you don't mind, of course," you added and turned to him, eyes meeting as jay naturally reacts with a shake of his head before you proceed towards the cook by the wheeled counter behind the glass. hearing you order what you like, especially with how hungry you seem, earns him an achievement for providing something to you as he stood back. your sight shifts back towards him before sliding diagonally down to the menu as he reads it.

settling down at the empty table overlooking the main street where more food is sold and people are eating, jay finally pulls out his phone to see the sms flowing one by one from his friends. the cut-up words look ridiculous, but definitely helpful when you only have limited buttons and characters on the phone itself. he chuckles as he sees euijoo's message on how piss jake is when he realizes that he was gone without telling him. his fingers press on the button rapidly as he follows the words he's trying to write, pressing the button multiple times to find the right alphabet to use as he types the significantly short message to reply.

1 message received

euijoo - 02.48 am a guy walk into de club n start 2 chase sum1 is dat y u run

jay stares at the blinking line of the text as he exhales before texting a "yes". when he wants to press the send button, his eyes lift up to see you who is putting away your bag on the table. seeing the other side of your face, he could see another bruise there on your right cheekbone, creating a line that connects every wound from one cheek to another with your nose as the bridge. his eyebrows crumpled whilst peeking at how your lips are pursing, but also interrupted with how your teeth bite your lip; almost like a soothing reaction as your arms remain still on the plastic table. your darkened, fearful eyes peer around the area, observing the people who are still eating this late at night while still having that alertness. it's like the person who was chasing you might know where you are going to be in the vastness of the city that is seoul.

scraps of movement on the asphalt road captured his attention as the cook came into his sight with two bowls. a jjajjangmyeon for him and a spicy warm jjamppong for you before he went back to provide you with the water pitcher. your hand reaches for the disposable wooden chopstick, letting him see the scars on your hand under the light of the lamp, but also how frail your hand moves. he couldn't see before under the shadow, but jay can now notice how your hand movement looks stiff—only a little amount of energy is exerted into it. jay can only presume two things: either you are actually tired from escaping the club with him, or you are tired in general. and by the look of your bruises scattered around your body and especially your face, the latter thought seemed to be one that added to the enigma that is you in his mind.

the chopsticks mix the sauce with the noodles as slurps fill the air between the two of you. your breath staggers as you take in the spicy broth, combating the cold that grazes your skin, as he hears how you actually sigh unconsciously. but more of a relaxing sigh, like it is a first in a long time you have had chinese food when it is the most accessible one out there—other than local korean delicacies. your tongue pokes out and licks the spiciness across your lips before biting on the shellfish's meat as he focuses on his noodle and takes a bite. the words forming and places on the end of his tongue as it waits for him to finish this one munch out of the others until he swallows it down and fills his stomach.

"who was chasing you?" the boy's question makes you turn your head to face him, eyes finally finding the bruise on his face; similar to what you have. his sight was looking at the street for a few moments before meeting yours. the coldness seemed to melt, even for just a little bit.

"uhm…" you started, forming the words in your head, "i just had to leave someone. just for the night, though. i think."

your words came out full of hesitation and also thoughtfulness, but it is full of something innocent as well—the little "i think" showing it. yet, his eyes still linger on your bruised lips as he could finally notice the little twitch on your small smile, a spasm from the wound that still looks pretty fresh, with the latest it might be is a day old.

"and, when i left them, i didn't know where to go. i don't know seoul enough to get away from them far. so i just go into the next nightlife establishment that we have also gone to, knowing that they would chase me after."

jay could now definitely pinpoint the innocence in your eyes. eyes that were wandering the night market and observing the many people enjoying their time late in the night, instead of staying in their homes to sleep until morning comes. eyes that were looking around the city as he felt your protruding chin moving around on his back as he could see from the rear-view mirror, turning your head to gaze at the big towering buildings that pierce the night sky.

you are not a seoul citizen—unlike him.

then, your hands are clasped in front of the nearly empty bowl of jjamppong. the warmth of the broth slowly dissipates as only a few more strands of noodles are left behind for you to finish. a whiplash on your neck blooming as you stare at jay, yet you don't mind with the rush of dopamine. the way his bike moves around the streets gracefully tells you that he has knowledge of this city's streets and neighbourhoods more than you know. more than the important subway stops you usually get off at and the apartment you live in. more than the streets full of nightlife establishments you frequent to including the club where you found him.

"maybe, you can help me." your voice echoes as it flows to his ears, a slight pout on your lips, "maybe you can help me get to know more about seoul. i- well, none of the people close to me here have even introduce me to the city properly." there is hint of melancholy in your words right at the end, something that tugs his gut as he listens to your proposition.

your figure left him behind as he gazed at you, pulling out your wallet from your chest bag as you paid for not only your meal, but his as well. the cunning glint in your eyes tells him that he knows why you're doing that—the reason why you are pushing him to the corner as he finally takes in your full body appearance; like you have done things like this before to survive. jay has no choice but to repay you now and as you settle beside him once again, you already have an expectant smile on your face, which he replies with nods. because it would not be a gentlemanly thing for him to say "no".

both of you walk around the streets that are dwindling with humans. all who have their stomach filled with happiness as they return to their homes and take rest. nearing the plot of land full of cars and bikes parked, you found the signs pointing you to the nearest subway station as you turned your figure to face him—taking in his handsome yet stern face for the last time. your saviour for the night as he leaned his hips against his angular motorcycle.

"i was thinking maybe we can meet up here tomorrow night? if you don't have anything to do, of course."

jay's mind reverts to his message from his father—saying that he should actually start thinking of taking a job—involving himself in his family's business that had been paying for his upbringing and that will be his inheritance. yet, he only takes little jobs from here and there instead. maybe delivering invoices from one office to another, picking up stuff to be put in the office and more throughout the day, leaving his night free of hanging out with his gang even in that shrouded corner. but your proposal seemed to hit enough of his free time activity criteria.

he has always been more of a night owl—nocturnal, if he could elaborate more. the nighttime is where he felt the most alive as even the cold air still gets sizzled when the sun's rays hit his skin. and when you say to meet him tomorrow night, he can also add to the list that summarises you in his mind that you are also a night person. it is like you have little jobs here and there in the day to pay for your needs, but can feel free in the night to take in the city and release any pent-up emotion you've acquired in the day.

like what he does.

"i can."

"great!" you say with the corner of your lips lifted, the smile reaching to your eyes before you glance down at your feet, noticing the way your boots nearly touch his. "what time are you available? six? seven?"

"after sunset," jay responds instantly as you nod in understanding. your black outfits match with each other as you nod your head.

"seven it is. okay…" you continue nodding as you lightly bite your bottom lip. as you take a step back, he can feel the hesitation coming from you. it is like you don't want this night to end yet. like you are enjoying his company so much even if he stays quiet most of the time, answering in a succinct manner enough for you to understand.

and he also felt it. like he doesn't want to let go.

"i'll see you tomorrow at seven here." your words create a note to pin his mind as he watches your body stepping away towards the sidewalk to the nearest station. and when his eyes met yours, he could see the darkness all gone—now filled with floating saturated colours that only he could see.

"good night, jay." your smile lingers in his sight as you turn your body around, retracting towards the streetlight on the start of the pavement before you step out of the ray of light and into the shadows of the street against the backdrop of windows on the towers littered around seoul. he didn't realise he had a pout on his face until your silhouette finally blends in with the darkness.

"good night, (y/n)." he finally pushes out underneath his breath, turning to go on his bike and turns the ignition as the rumbling sound fills the air. jay already have a place that he could introduce to you tomorrow night after bringing around: his favourite place ever in seoul and a place that you, a fellow loomer, would also love.

-

the familiar smell of geoje's sea is kilometres away from you now: the place you called home before the metropolitan city swallows you into it. you miss the piercing sun as you step out of your house to find yourself across from the beach. your mom is already standing on the sand when she feels your presence behind her, nagging at you that you woke up late before nudging at the motor scooter that is waiting for you to ride with as she would sit behind you—like always when it comes to saturdays.

yet, the sun now felt more like a past memory. its piercing heat stings deeper than only the surface of your skin, sinking deep into your flesh that you can feel it in your bones. it is now an unfamiliar feeling for you, especially after you moved away from the coast. in the van with the familiar rowdy crowd after your mother had pushed you to take it. take the chance to go to seoul.

"you deserve to also thrive in a big modern city like seoul, (y/n). especially after you got the taste of busan," you remembered her saying after you told her of your new friends' proposition. the ones you met when you were already years in deep to doing your work that you have started ever since graduating high school—just a waitress in a plain eatery that overlooks the coast—when a bunch of boys and a girl came into the empty room. their eyes and thoughts were already pinpointed on you as the girl brought you to sit with them.

"we won't be able to finish it with only the five of us," she said before introducing herself as ningning, then the rounds started. eunseok, sungchan, shotaro, and the most beautiful boy you had ever seen that time with his acoustic guitar on his lap. wonbin: the same boy you were escaping from that night. the same boy that was once so in love with you that you decided to move across the country because you saw a glimpse of a future with him and the other boys that are his bandmates.

even after many ultimatums of breakups that are his fault for the causes—caught him mid-thrusting into a fan that was cheering on him when he was performing at the backstage room after his gig in the pub and music venue you are working in to get your ends meet—he still as adimant to make it up to you. attached; obsessed. time and time again. sometimes with his sweet words but also with his sharp movements, creating the bruises that still sting your face and waiting to repair itself after you helped it with antiseptics. his friends are no different. from sungchan who he is closest with and turns his eyes away and continues playing his guitar even when he could see the frontman flirting on the stage with you who is sitting there across from it, to ningning who allows you to refuge at her place—unofficially moving out from wonbin's unit nearly two weeks ago—and how your story and warnings to her are met with many dismissal.

"i fucking know wonbin longer than you, (y/n). he is the first person that i am friends with when i moved here from china. he is not like that." yet, she is still much more aware now even if it is not at 50% level, espeically seeing your bruised up face and marred skin combine with how you have reiterate to her time and time again: "i don't have anyone to fucking go to in seoul. it is just the five of you. that's why i am telling you this."

and so, your love for the sun is gone as you felt safer in the shadow. it is safer for you to just observe from the crowd as wonbin has a spotlight on him, playing his guitar on the stage, when you go do what you are good at: serving people their drinks, taking in their orders, and maybe get rope in their booth for a drinking game or two. and when it gets too much—as you watched his lazy smile making a bunch of girls swoon like he hasn't got you wrapped around his fingers already—you left for the nearest club from there. a place that he ironically introduced to you after your second night working in the venue. the rock songs are being replaced with hard-hitting techno as you find a corner and light a cigarette. eyes always fleeting towards the front door to see if he notices and chases you or not. because, per his words: "i won't ever let you out of my sight."

but, for the first time in your life, you seemed to gain hope from the darkness that is usually around you.

in that club, the darkness of the corner of you always obscured yourself in has a presence you only notice recently. you thought maybe it is just the void enveloping you, protecting you from the harms you inflict on yourself and other people inflict on you. maybe, that presence has always been jay; steps away with his lit up cigarette and smokes flying out of the corner with yours.

your boots stamp on the stairs as you climb out from the underground subway station, bag slinging around with your movement as your whole outfit lets you blend into the shadows that will be forming more later in the day. the neon symbols that were hollow when you saw them before descending to ride the train are now clearer as the purple takes over from the orange that only has a trace showing at the western horizon. you eyed the familiar hanging signs that you walk past to go to the apartment unit from yesterday night, now heading the opposite way from the station to go to the street that is ingrained in your mind. a hidden gem you will now always cherish when you are searching for a treat.

the smell of cooking food is already sizzling into the air, still enticing even though you had remembered that you had already eaten some food at the convenience store before riding the train. but the expectation of it lets you focus on the street that is approaching. a few steps and you arrive at the opening, watching people eating their food on the tables and chairs placed down between tents of street food delicacies. some of them are in their office outfits—suits, ties, and miniskirts spotted on the tables as they get their fill of dinner before going back home or do something else as the night has only just started. instead of joining them, you head towards another place; towards where people park their private vehicles.

vehicles, from cars to motorbikes and regular bicycles, are all parked there in an orderly manner. some of the cars are parked parallel while the motorbikes are gathered in one place. yet, one stood out. there, with the familiar black and white bandana tightly covering half of his face, stood your saviour from last night.

"hi!" your words bounce out from you, startling both him and yourself. jay shifts his head to face you and nods before looking down to take your appearance: not much different to the clothes you are wearing from yesterday colour-wise. but you decided to wear a thin long-sleeved black top in place of your crop top t-shirt from last night.

"can i get a smoke break first?" you already put your hand into your bag as you heard him hum, opening the pocket as you pull out your cigarette stick and lighter. the click and sizzle enter his ear as your eyes are focusing on the end of the cigarette that is being burned, inhaling to keep the fire on before exhaling along with the smoke. and you turned yourself around and stepped back to stand beside him, leaning slightly against his motorcycle as you took in the scenery that you had also seen not even 24 hours prior. but it is much more crowded—people know that 7 pm is still too early to end the night full of relaxation after a long day, and it is also too early to start yours.

"we're the same age, right?" you muttered out as jay turns his head to look at you. his twitching lips were obscured under his tied bandana mask.

"i'm 21," he replied as you answered, "same then. are you in university right now or..?"

"graduated early. business major. you?"

"no. i am not…" jay peers down to look at the smile you let out, "i don't have the money. it's one of the reasons why i'm in seoul now..." you take a drag from the cigarette, letting it coat your mouth with the familiar taste before you blow the smoke away, "to find them."

he takes in your words and the assumption he made of you from last night. the little jobs you are probably doing, the innocence you have in the metropolitan city you find yourself in—especially at the start of the new millennium—with everything that this city has been going through. it makes so much sense for someone like you to move to seoul to get a job, knowing the many opportunities it has compared to other towns. you are still wearing the choker you wore last night, like it is part of your identity. like it is a way to make you grounded and not be blown out of the way with the many things that happened in seoul. like it is a reminder for you to stay true to yourself.

jay watches as you throw the cigarette away and stomp them with your sole before pivoting to face him. "let's," you speak out, eyebrows raised as you stare into his eyes. behind the bandana, a smirk rises on his face as he signals towards his bike with a small turn of his head. he catches your smile widening as he gets on the seat, turning on the machine that was already plugged in with the key and revving the engine up.

he felt your chin resting on his shoulder as the motorbike swerved around cars and other vehicles in the streets of seoul. the breeze brushes his hair away as he talks underneath the sound of the engine and other noises, words only reserved for you as he points out the many places you both are cruising by. from the city hall area to the eulji-ro, the palaces then to the ever-crowded and bright myeong-dong with the namsan tower standing like a beacon between the hills that encompasses seoul metropolitan area. from the rearview mirror, he finds you examining around the buildings as their light shines on you. an earnest yet also mesmerised look on your face like a child who has only seen the city lights for the first time.

jay also notices how your chin lifts up from his shoulder when the bike glides on the bridge crossing the han river. the river's surface glimmering under the sky, resembling the stars high up above. he doesn't stop, speaking to you of the many neighbourhoods he is bringing you along. jamsil, samseong, and sinsa encompass the affluent district of gangnam, which even makes the boy feel indifferent as he realises the area he is in, making him ride down the hilly road as quick as possible to get closer to the final place he wants to show you. and so, after the whole introduction to seoul, he brought you to his favourite place in the city.

parking the bike in the empty lot, you already step down as you walk towards the snack bar nearest to his hangout place that overlooks the han river. the park area seems to be full of people riding bicycles for their nightly exercise, but his favourite spot is not exactly by the edge of the river. but a bit further in and right under the bridge. the view looks out beautifully on the city's increasing number of skyscrapers, yet he is still in the comfort of the shadows. the other boys also know about this place—their favourite spot to hang out after school before their parents would call them like crazy to get back home. but with their regular appearance at the club now, this place is solely his to claim as he visits much more often than they do now.

jay raises his hand as you walk back with a paper bowl of french fries before he sits down on the metal bench and the table in its set right underneath the bridge where cars and buses drive above them. your figure approaches and looks up, slowing your steps as you take in the massive structure hanging above you, casting darkness on the spots right underneath them before a clear image on the other side shows across from where you stood. your figure sits beside him on the same bench, placing the fries at the space between the two of you as the darkness encases you from above. the shine from the streetlights only shows one side of both of your faces as you nudge your head from your gaze on the bowl towards him—signalling for him to take one. a smile morphs on your expression when you watch him pinch one cut of the fry and plop it into his mouth. you finally let out a huge exhale and turn your head to gaze at the city that you have called home for one year now. yet, a city that is still so full of the unknown for you.

the skyscrapers' silhouettes are darker than the twilight sky—letting you take in the enormous figures in their entirety when you are so far out from their foundation. gazing at them, it reminds you of the silhouette of the cargo ships across the sea that are going to park by the harbour in busan. its huge shape looks small from where you are standing on the sand, wondering just how many of your bodies should stack with each other to know how tall it is. being in front of the skyscrapers makes you feel like you are facing against giants that roam across the soil, especially with the many development of south korea that you have heard so many times from the radio, talks of the older people in your village, and the glance of the newest newspaper that reaches geoje that can be one day late from the message busan has received.

and here you are, sitting beside the boy who only speaks if necessary—knowing even from your short interaction. his spoken words sear into your mind as you match up the view to the names he had uttered on the ride on his motorbike as you leaned against his shoulder; feeling free for the first time in a long time.

"hmm…" you hummed before chuckling, making him turn his head towards you from your peeking. "do you want to know the real reason why i ask you to introduce seoul to me?"

jay's eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, reading onto your face that is as open as ever for conversation—different to the trembling eyes he had seen yesterday. you were much more relaxed. maybe because it is due to your hidden position that only people who take a moment to wait and search will find the two of you. maybe it's because you are not being chased by someone. maybe it's because the shadow is protecting you, to allow you to speak comfortably.

"i'm… searching for a new job," you finally say, a small pout jutting as you tilt your head to face him. "i work in that pub and music venue near the club where we met, working as a waitress and occasionally hostess. i'll be quitting from there as soon as i find a replacement."

the boy sighed beside you as he continued picking up the fries. his body also relaxed as he already guessed that you are buying it for both of you—like yesterday with how you paid for the jjajangmyeon he ate. but when you mentioned job searching, his eyebrows became slightly creased. yet, your sudden smile calms his heartbeat; taking in just how with the slightest crook of your lips, all the worry in him disappears.

"thank you for that. for all of it. i now have some places that i can consider for my next job. hopefully, they're open to accepting me…" you gulped down before staring back at the snack bar where you bought the fries—one prospect of the jobs you are searching for. the men who serve you your food there seem lovely; the dark night outside of their shining boxes doesn't seem to slow them down with their business, as you read that they're going to be closing at around 11 at night. you recalled how the man by the cashier is looking at the man who cooks, a look of adoration in him as they take their business slow and steady. like it is more of a passion job rather than a profitable one.

"you are a seoul citizen, right? local?" the last word is uttered by you to make the question clearer as you see jay let out a smirk.

"born in the united states, but moved here when i was five years old."

"really? that's cool," your voice pitched got higher by the end of your sentence with your eyes openly marvelling at him, especially now with the bandana off as you could take in his facial profile. from his stern eyebrows to his sharp jawline that actually makes his cheeks warm. "since you lived here most of your life, do you have any thoughts about the city? i'm genuinely curious. especially coming from a local rather than an outsider like me."

"an outsider's perspective is more objective in one way," jay started, his words seemingly speaking like an invitation for you to also join in the conversation with your own opinion. his relaxed body now looks more upright as he leans towards the middle where the bowl rests between the two of you on the bench, "one word to describe seoul: convoluted."

nods coming from your head, agreeing to his one-word description of the city you are now in. "i expected that knowing the many narration of the 'miracle of the han river'"—your hands widens in front of you to emphasize the gradiosity of the era—"from the early 1990s to then it came crashing down because of the financial crisis that even my family back in the village is still recovering from." you let out all the buzzword you have seen from the newspaper and the newly printed textbooks your have to share in the classroom. the rising number of conglomerates and how it has evolved the korean economy back when you were in elementary school. the view of the beach from the fishboats you recognised suddenly gains an increase of bigger steel ships—dominating the shore with more coming to import or export to the countries that have agreed for a trade relation. then, the financial crisis you felt in high school, as your mom was more willing to cook you a doshirak rather than give you allowance money to buy food, with how devalued korean won became.

"but, if i want to describe seoul in one word, like you do," you point towards him using your shoulder, "i would probably say dangerous. i mean, the sampoong department store collapse, the one with the seongsu bridge. it shows how people are willing to be reckless to chase for that 'miracle' and cut corners to gain from them, to upkeep their image as best as they could with cost of being not transparent." your sigh hangs between the two of you as you finally made eye contact with him. "to know that i am scared of seoul in an understatement, seeing the trajectory of it all. and also the divide."

"are you sure you don't go to university?" jay's question makes you giggle as you finish another bite of the fry. you reply by shaking your head, confirming to him about your education status.

"i am just someone who is keen to learn about the world. that's all…" you spoke back towards him before letting out the final words you can't seem to stop, "even if i'm lonely doing it."

jay's eyebrows were raised for a second as you realised he must have caught on to what you said. but rather than pointing him out on it, you stayed quiet, and he seems to follow suit. his hand rummages in his pocket as he pulls out the cigarette package, pushing the box towards you, with you replying with your shaking head as you pull out your own box. pulling one stick out of the box, you heard the click beside you as jay's face is illuminated with the warm orange colour of the fire. his eyes look between the dancing flame and then to you as he is holding on to it.

quickly, you bite the end with your teeth as you let the dried leaves burn—remembering how you were doing the same to him the night before. the smoke flew between the two of you, smelling the different flavours of his cigarette compared to yours that blends in. there are only a few fries left between the two of you. yet jay's posture seemed like he was letting you take in the rest of the food.

"lonely is a good word to describe the people in the city. people like us." jay finally lets out, letting the drag of the cigarette fly between the two of you. the scent of his cigarette is much heavier than your own menthol one—the one that even wonbin doesn't know because you only started smoking when you were separated from him. slowly and surely letting it become your friend that spreads warmth inside you, because alcohol will only make you weep your feelings. you understand that the smell will stick onto your clothes, yet you don't care. even with their cons, the smoke warms your body up like a hug. and with that, you both are sitting beside each other, taking in his expression and implications as he does yours.

"i call myself a loomer. people who loom in the shadow and just observe your surroundings." his eyes met yours as he blew another cloud of smoke out—not bothering you at all as you take in the smoke instead with a small smile on your lips. "you are one."

a thin smile comes out from your lips as you track the verisimilitude in his face. to have a nickname given by a person you can't help but respect in many aspects—education, wealth, and socially—feels like an honour. even with his simple description, you understand what he was saying. that even here underneath the shadow that is a bridge connecting people across the han river throughout the urban area: you both are looming in the shadows and taking in seoul from the little shady corner—another shadowy haven to add to your collection that is the techno club as wonbin destroyed sanctity of the apartment you had shared with him before you moved to ningning's.

"i haven't heard of that word before. but it is fitting. i like observing more as life goes on. knowing that people also live their lives and i can learn more about them by just... taking them in one by one." you uttered back, watching how the one side of his face is more vivid because of the light. and because of it, you can see how his left eye is glimmering—a subtle joy shown from your like-mindedness.

and so, you both are taking in seoul with your own paces. small conversation bouncing here and there, but seoul is also the main character of the night. your eyes follow the headlights of the vehicle on the bridge across from where you are; asking the boy beside about who owns the skyscrapers you both are looking at; talking about his insight on the 1997 financial crisis as someone studying economics. these are many discussions you aren't able to have with the likes of shotaro and eunseok, who are focused on the materialistic side of an argument—the sentence "how much does it worth?" peeling your surface one by one when you talk to the main bandmates outside of wonbin. even ningning is much more open to talking about this, even if it is something she dislikes talking about, because it makes her head hot when she hears how your questions are basically peeling every layer like what an onion has.

the wind wisps against your head once again, feeling his warmth even from his back as he had put your arms to wrapped around his waist. the bike weaves through the emptier streets as he moves towards the direction of your apartment tower. different from the last time you rode the bike before, you lay your head on him with one side turning as you take in the scenery. the many signs of business that added more characeter to the street while the building outlines blends with the darkness when the streetlights doesn't reached the top. as the bike continues on the asphalt road, you catch the familiar sets of buildings zooming past—nearing your destination as you eyed jay who is looking at the buildings to find the right one from the address you told him.

"thank you once again," you finally able to say as you stand beside him, his long legs becoming the anchors of his bike to stand steadily as he gazed at you. your hand rubs the back of your neck, feeling the stickiness of the sweat that perspires from your activities with him tonight. said boy looks at you sheepishly, a curt nod given to you as he finally reaches for his bandana and ties it back onto the back of his head.

"here, let me help." your hands move instantly, reaching to smooth down the upper side of the triangle shape of the bandana that covers the lower half of his face. the boy's eyes peering down at your hands before going to your face, his gaze goes straight to you as you pull back, making a distance between both of your figures as you feel the warmth he exudes scattering from your touch. your hands slowly fall down back to your side as you give him a thin smile.

"good night, jay," you say back to him, the same way you did yesterday.

you walked a few steps back on the pavement as he put his hands on the handles, revving the engine up before turning towards you.

"good night, (y/n)," he replied. and with the way you turn your head to look back from your shoulder, even for just a slight movement, he knows you heard his words—unlike yesterday.

his motorbike scurries off into the shadows as you eyed the red shining glow from the brake lights, getting farther and farther away as it turns at the corner to god knows where he would be going tonight. you exhaled a breath you didn't realise you were holding as you turned to the apartment building. the flights of stairs are sticking onto the side of the building as the fences barricade you alongside its half-wall foundation and the canopy above you from the weather outside. the gap letting in the night wind that grazes your cheek as you keep up your breathing pace and walk up the steps to the apartment you share with ningning.

with the key between your fingers, you insert it into the hole and turn the lock open when you feel that it is so light. eyes now squinting, the door was unlocked as you turned your head around the hallway to the other doors where the other tenants live. ningning had said to you that she is going to get home late tonight—doing something other than her job—and she left after you. it is either that she forgot to lock the front door or someone is inside. bracing yourself, you turn the handle and step inside the apartment.

"ning?" you spoke as loud as the night lets you with the limited volume, pushing your shoes off as you eyed the front door cabinet to see that her regular pair of shoes are missing, but instead you found a pair of rubber slippers scattered from one side of the floor tile to other by the front door. a familiar rubber slippers you can already guess as his voice continues to confirm it.

"there you are, lover." his silhouette sits on the couch across from the stack of blankets and pillows you folded up that are your set of sleeping items. the minimal lighting coming from the night outside the window, the warm orange lamp on the table nearest to ningning's room and the ultraviolet light hanging nearest to the television shine on the white of wonbin's tank top and turn it into periwinkle. his long hair frames his small face as his bangs cover his eyes slightly—a look that made you fall in love with him in the first place. wonbin's head turns towards where you stand as he lets out a smirk, pushing his body to stand up as your hand reaches for the strap of your bag; curling around it.

"you've not been home for five days now. i did assumed that you were staying at ning's." his voice reaches you as you could feel the bruises on your face tingling. you had unofficially moved to ningning's apartment nearly two weeks ago and yet he only remembered the last five days? maybe, he had also forgotten about the time when you were picking up your clothes to move to ningning's where you had met him drunk and with a girl bent on her hands and knees in front of him in the bed he had called "ours" with you. his blanked out drunkness became harsher as the girl actually watched you two until your body landed on the ground with a few punches landed on your face. the girl's eyes were looking between you and then at wonbin as she scurried away, half-clothed, and bring your out of the apartment unit instead. she bought you two a cup of ramyeon as you both talked about boys and all other things inside the 24-hour convenience store: you never got her name and number when you both seperated at sunrise.

that was two days ago. the reason why you got these faded wounds all across your face and hands. and he doesn't seem to remember it at all

yet, even with the bruises and all, wonbin's voice still affects you, making you remain standing as he walks closer and closer. there are so many reasons why you are enamoured with this certain park wonbin, and his voice was one of them. bright like sunlight but can be deeper when serious, especially when he sings on stage as the spotlight makes him shine more. but you know your relationship with the sun now as it becomes murkier and murkier—like your connection with him that is getting much messier with the many times he won't stop his escapades and his friends enable him to not stop as well.

his hands that have held your body many times, have placed their mark on you, caressing down your curves in a way that is catered only towards his pleasure. but even with the many times you had seen him cheat on you and how nonchalant his friends are, you realised that you still can't live in seoul independently, because wonbin is the main reason why you came here, following him around as he also helped you carve seoul into your life, adding that you can also help provide for your mom back in geoje also—a mom that wants to think and live big. and that, without him or his friends who could also support a more ideal person than an outsider like you, you would be homeless.

his hand reaches up and caresses down your sleeve-covered arm, feeling the shivers growing across your nerves as he steps closer to you—letting you feel his breath against your skin. but your eyes remain still and only look at one point, which is his chest in your vision. the touch felt so familiar and soft, not the same touch that hit you down on the ground and blooming splotches of darker colours on your face. in his mind, you know that that version of wonbin and this version of him before you are the same person. but if they are, why does your heart recognise his touches and obscure the version that wounded you? like it is telling you that yes, the wonbin before you is the wonbin that you loved. your wonbin. not the one that was hitting you to the ground. not the one that was chasing you down yesterday night.

and yet, when he lifts your gaze with a hand on your jaw, your eyes meet his and you can't help but compare his eyes with jay's. wonbin's eyes exude something so carefully crafted to impress people, like the deities made him to be an adonis that enamoured the human race. there is a romantic glint in his eyes—a look that shows the person before him that he cares for their being. but his eyes seem so superficial when you look deeper and longer. unlike the way jay looks at you with his stare that is much sharper and darker. more brash and yet, jay's gaze seemed warmer.

then, he moved his head to the crook of your neck, his grip moved to hold around your wrist. you blinked slowly, letting the familiar sniffing session come as he couldn't even bear to smell the scent of another person on you. his possessiveness is showing—something you can only pinpoint as the mask is slipping down more day by day.

"since when did you smoke?" he replied after sniffing the scent on you. the scent that you conceal yourself in—coping with his behaviour by taking as many smoke breaks in the back alley of the place you are working as you can, especially when he is performing on stage and openly flirting with the audience; not knowing the boundaries of his on and off-stage personas. chuckles bubbling from you as you sense him moving around your figure. you peek from the corner of your eyes as you are met with his dark, wide eyes staring at you. his puffs of breath create a pattern as he sniffs you more—now on your hair.

"like you care…" you say, so exasperatedly. wonbin doesn't like it if you are giving him "the attitude", as he usually calls it. but you really, really want to spite him by opening your bag and pulling out a cig for you to light up and smoke in front of him—blowing the steam towards his smug face. but you felt how his heat gets closer and seeps into the fabric of your top from how close he is standing. shivers still running as it forms across your spine involuntarily until he lets go, and then replaces it with the way he lifts your hand that is wrapped in his.

slowly, he moves his head and you feel him sniffing down every patch of your skin, starting from your covered wrist. wonbin's hums signal to you that he could smell the tobacco clearly. your palm begins to sweat as you clench your hand with him holding onto you tightly and unmoving, to set you straight as you gaze the other way from him instead. then, you feel another of his hands touching your waist on the other side—his warm palm resting at its rightful space to hold you still. to hold you so you wouldn't leave like the previous two weeks. and just then, you remembered what you said to him: "like you care."

when you feel the tip of his sharp nose trail up your arms, your thoughts about wonbin start to waver. does he really care for your well-being this whole time, like he does when he asks you to come with him? his presence is your safe haven in the scary and cold atmosphere of seoul when you came here, and how you follow along with his movement—because you trust him so much. wonbin has always been possessive over you, especially when someone has their eyes landing too long on you as he glares at them before bringing you into his proximity. but those rose-tinted glasses were gone. openly sniffing your figure felt too much—like he doesn't trust you when you should be the one not trusting him—yet you are here, wrapped around his fingers once again as his sniffs approach your bicep and his other hand moves to hold your hip.

then, the kisses start. wonbin's trails them up your obscured muscles to your shoulders as your body tenses even more. your senses ignited as he pressed closer to you—letting you feel his growing bulge when his hips brushed against your backside side which made your eyes dilate. his other hand moves to the front as he presses down on your lower tummy, closer to your core that he had claimed. your eyes peeked behind you and trembled in confusion. is he actually serious? is he wanting you again? after many months of him ignoring you while you take care of him, he finally wants you. wonbin's kisses trail your exposed skin on the collarbone like a train track with its clear destination. his destination: approaching the crook of your neck.

you felt the plush of his lips finding the skin of your crook, pressing right underneath your leather collar as you had to blink slowly, taking in the sensation you hadn't had in a while—the one that he usually induces. your tense body starts relaxing in his touch. but then you felt his other hand on the front of your neck, holding onto the clasp of your choker.

everything snaps back into you in the blink of an eye.

power flows through as you finally able to push your limbs away from him, pulling away from his embrace you used to love as you turn around to face him. one hand on your choker as the other on the place where he presses near your nether region—covering yourself away from the intimacy you had shared with him. because now: he is a stranger.

you shake your head, gazing at the man you loved and how you felt the shivers slowly turning to dread. gazing in wonbin's eyes, his eyes that were dark and full of lust, slowly changes. the creases on his face transform as he stares at you—the eyes from two nights before when you openly resist him. the look that you recognised has been lingering beneath the surface every time you caught him in the act and how he doesn't even stop.

"what the fuck?" he said, so menacingly that it made you retreated your steps. you gaze at his empty hands that are now clenched. the veins you had adored when you saw him playing the guitar now look like a characteristic for a side of wonbin that you don't like to see. then, he lifts it up quickly, making you flinch away as you hesitantly look at the front door that is now behind him.

taking quick breaths in succession, you push him with all your might as you run to your shoes, quickly slip into them when your eyes look to wonbin's body, who is rising up from the floor because of your force that knocks him. your figure was already shaking and you didn't even care that you hadn't tied your laces as you opened the unit's door and ran down the hallway.

"you can't get away from me, (y/n)!" he shouted behind you as you continued looking forward. your bag bounces beside you as you swiftly take steps down the flight of stairs—his footsteps still chase after you. your breath is staggering as you try to skip a few spaces of the floor to make your distance farther, nearing the entrance of the apartment tower as you finally push away the door. wonbin's footsteps still pursuing you as you could see his figure from even a tiny glance behind your shoulder. your head turns to the numerous ways you could go as you let your feet bring you away.

your stomps are heavy against pavement in the dead of night, running and running as you still give as much space to how your feet landed on the ground so you couldn't step on your laces and tumbled to the ground to then be captured by him. you don't care if you are jaywalking when the road is empty. you just want to get away from him as much as possible. the darkness quickly surrounds you as you pick the road most obscured, hopefully concealing you from him as you could still hear his steps behind you. you don't want to look back—not like this—as you ran as fast as you could. all of the food you ate last time burns up as you take turns in the dark streets and never look back.

you don't know which road you are taking, but the neon signs become your lodestar as you follow them along. finding a large multilane road that still has vehicles on the road, you press the button to cross to turn it green numerous times. wonbin's footsteps haven't been ringing anymore, but you still felt him so near that you had to push yourself to move again. the lights now radiating on you as you could see your black sleeves having a blue tint on them because of the glow. then, your eyes find the shadows of people across from you: a crowd. a busy street even this late at night. and as the walking man light turns green, you push to jog down the crossing and join the group.

lights then welcomes you as you run up the incline, remembering the road before you, as the road you were driving past when you were with jay. the neighbourhood of myeong dong greets you properly after the brief introduction from the ride on jay's bike. many signboards show advertisements of numerous establishments, such as stores that are still open at this time of the night. your vision lets you observe the many people—more are local than outsiders—but they still create a crowd that you can blend in and lose his presence from behind you. this is the first time in a long time that the nighttime lights save you as you get yourself deeper into the street and the large crowd that gets denser.

your legs are burning after running as fast as possible, pausing your body as you could feel your legs trembling before you brace yourself with your hands on your knees—bending down as you take in deep inhales. finally turning around, the crowd had obscured you from wonbin enough that you could finally stand still and take in the scenery of the bright neighbourhood. you know that you had lost him blocks ago. but when you couldn't see his long hair and white tank top, relief spread across your body as you graze your neck once again, feeling the choker safe and sound. spinning around, you read the signs as you try your best to find the best refuge from the night. that is when the golden arches with the red background and the sign that says 24 hours caught your attention.

dragging your feet against the ground, you approached the entrance way to a mcdonalds. the logo hanging is on top of the exterior above the door as you peer into the glass window to find that it still has a few people eating there. the rumbling in your stomach reacts as you recognise the sign that tells you the menu items. and in resolution, you nodded your head: hoping that this is the refuge that will keep you safe, even just for tonight.

-

the familiar darkness now covers jay in his rightful place once again, taking in the flowing sonic waves from the speakers that are playing songs coming from the uk trance scene as he could feel how his head is droning alongside the elongated melody of born slippy by underground. taking another drag of his third cig of the night, he nods his head to the thumping beat as he gazes back at his friends who are doing their own shenanigans at their regular booth. seeing them already in a trance of alcoholic bottles scattered on the table with the regular girls sliding into their arms. but he couldn't help but be thinking of you.

the next day, after the day you and he rode around seoul and went to his spot under the bridge, he went back to the street food market—buying some food to fill in his fridge and put on the dining table—and he was hoping to find you there again. the bandana he wore the day before is now gone from his face and rested as a scarf, letting his eyes peer to the street where the underground subway station is located—the same sidewalk he saw you go back and come from when you two met up. but, after an hour of idly standing against his bike, he realises you aren't coming with a scoff coming out of him. and so, jay walks through the crowded pathway full of people buying and sending foods to the tables towards the chinese food street vendor that you both ate from, making him eating there alone as his eyes continue to be alert of your presence—still hoping that you would come as he waits for his takeaway orders to be finished.

it has been a week since that day and he has never seen you again throughout that week. jake had been the one noticing how fidgety jay has become. his friend observes how his eyes are looking at the view of nighttime seoul across the river for far too long—ignoring the food scattered on the metal table—when he feels jake's presence sitting beside him. and one by one, the others start to notice. how jay's quietness is different from the quietness they are used to; because jay's usual attention will still remain at present time when he listens to his friends talking about their college drama with the people he had encountered with before in some part of his life while taking in a drag of the joint nicholas had gotten for all five. yet, jay's attention is elsewhere. that is when euijoo was the first one asking the question that has been written at the space in front of the rest: "are you thinking about the girl that you were running away with?"

and for the first time in their friendship, he hesitated to let out a direct reply. thinking for a few moments more, even if he answers with just a few nods.

after taking a breath, jay let the heavy bass drummed into his ears as he could feel the wall shake from the frequency waves. his burning stick is getting shorter and shorter as he inhales more, making the fire spread closer towards his lips. then, he heard it. the sound he had expected to hear from the past week when he was standing in this very corner.

the sound of a click makes him rotate around as the orange flame blazes up and your facial features appear—glowing from the little source of light before it. your eyes dart up from the flame, greeting him with one look as you let the end of your cigarette between your lips get burned whilst also inhaling, taking in the smoke as he glances at your face. the bruises and strip bandage are now gone as he can finally scan your natural and healthy appearance. yet, he could actually see clearly how your under-eye circles were getting deeper into your skull. that was the last sight that he etched in his mind as the flame is gone with one blow with your lips.

jay's eyes adjust back to the darkness as he can still see you—and you to him. he peers down to still see the reflected silver buckle across the width of your neck: your choker necklace is still on as it becomes something that he will pinpoint about your appearance every time. but your outfit is much more casual, a t-shirt that is a perfect size for you, which doesn't press down on your skin. but also a jean pants that blends in with your top with its dark colour. taking another drag from your cigarette, your eyes met his as he noticed how you were letting out such a soft frown from your curving lips.

"where-"

"i'm sorry for not reaching out," you said in only a whisper he could hear. the smoke coming from your burning cigarette decorates his view as he throws the end to the ground and crushes it once again. yet, the slight spotlight grazing the corner where both of you stand lets him gaze at your features once again. the frown slowly morphs into a smile—a reassuring smile.

"i got a new job though." words come from you as another inhale of the poison lacing your stick as you drag it so deep, some come out from your nostrils before you let your mouth agape, letting the smoke out before blowing the rest. in a way, jay had felt calmer than before. that whatever he did days before—ever so minimal but still in the spirit of concern about you—goes away as he watches you become seemingly happier in return. it is like you have let go of some weight, even if he could detect a few hypothetical ones that are still doing a balancing act on your shoulders. nevertheless, the way your eyes twinkle as you told him makes him feel a sense of pride that you are sharing—a thing that repays every time you pay him food and his action of helping you run from the unknown person that was chasing after you.

"this calls for a celebration," your voice rang out as you peer once again at him, his lips pursed; contemplating your simple proposal. jay's eyes go to the booth where his friends are sitting, noticing jake already looking back when he nudges euijoo beside him: the ones who had directly asked him why he hadn't come to the club recently and know about who you are, even from the short sentences jay tells about you. smiles stretched on both of their faces as they moved their heads in sync—communicating with him in nonverbal gestures visible from where he stands.

jay's head turns towards the back exit beside the dj booth. the trance music continues whirring in a basic instrumental as people are still taking a rest from the beat drops and breakdowns. he returns to face you before pointing at the doorframe with his chin. "take the lead," his gestures said, making you put out the cigarette on the wall beside you. with a brush of a hand that he captures so messily, jay follows your movement as you brought him down the back exit once again. your head turns on a path hastily—seemingly remembering the path down the halls to find the door with the green exit sign. the breeze hits both of you when you open the door, eyeing the alleyway as you retrace the steps that you were taking last time—now with jay towing behind you.

his kawasaki ninja is parked perfectly with no other vehicles parked near it. jay's stride becomes wider as he reaches the bike first, as only a few of your curved fingers are connected with each other. rummaging his pocket for the key, he is one step closer to mounting the vehicle when he hears the sound of quick steps—making him pause when you stand between it and his figure. jay tilted his head at you before scanning through your nervous yet determined face. that twinkle in your eyes is still visible as you pivot your head to the side when you catch onto the motorbike's figure.

"can i control your bike?" your request is simple, but when he starts to let his doubt show, you continue your words. "i ride them back home ever since high school. though i am used to riding scooters, i think i should still be able to find my balance with it." your head gives a small nod at the vehicle behind you.

jay could see the wonder in your eyes that was being blended with a tinge of melancholy as you asked your question. he remembered your words about work, about home which you haven't mentioned where exactly. but, it is your celebration when he voluntarily follows you. he also has a role that helps you get a job now, and this is your way of saying thank you. and so, he walks around you and mounts the bike, pushing the key into the hole. but when you turn around to face him and expect to hear the ignition starting, he kicks the foot peg up and scoots a bit back whilst balancing the bike; leaving the front empty space for you.

"come," he says, eyeing you as you let out a smile when you didn't expect it. slowly, you climb in front of him very awkwardly until both of your feet are on each side of the ground and balance the bike perfectly. the engine roars when you turn the ignition key as you hold the handlebars, familiarising once again with the feeling before you push the bike and turn the handle—letting the bike lurch into the night's streets.

as you lean forward near the gas tank, hands holding tight onto the bars, the velocity makes jay have to lean against you. it feels rare for him to be in the backseat of a bike—especially being the only one among his friends who ride them because they prefer sports cars. so, he gently places his chin on your shoulder; not only because he wants to see how you are handling his bike, but he wants to hear your giggles clearly. the wind brushes both of your hairs back as you follow the lines of the road, even though you can also swerve from the left to the right lanes because there are no other vehicles on the road. then, you eyed the tunnel at the front as you twisted the handle more, feeling another kick from the engine as the bike went into the opening. the growling machinery bounces against the long walls as he observes how your eyes are peering out on the street. his hold on your waist is becoming a little tighter and you don't seem to mind it

then he realised by the euphoric look on your face as you take streets after streets of just sightseeing: you don't know your destination. you still don't know seoul's streets like he does, even with the public transport you are using, which only brings you to certain neighbourhoods that have heavy pedestrian traffic. and so, jay leans into your ear and says, "there's this bar i sometimes go to. do you wanna go there?"

"tell me the path to go there," you reply with a higher volume as he knows that you felt his nod beside your own head.

the night embraces both of you as the lights decorate it. from the business signs to billboards—all have their power on under the raven sky to capture people's attention. but jay's attention is on the street before him and you who is driving the bike. he signals with his voice by your ear on the streets to divert to as you follow along, tailing behind a bus before taking a turn on a smaller street. the bike sounds bounce against the buildings around as the lights here are more subdued. the bike is getting farther and farther from the main streets. and he signals you to the side as you see the small parking lot.

he is the one who steps down from the bike first as you push the foot peg down and turn the key for the ignition off. mounting off from the seat, you let out a big whoop as you tidied up your ruffled hair that is blown by the wind, hearing chuckles coming from jay when he watches your joyful exclamation. slowly, you stand close beside him and tuck your arm with his—letting him take the rein once again.

jay brought you towards the door that blends in too well with the grate that covers the closed small businesses around it. a security guard nods at jay—recognising the boy—and you, who is his plus one, as he pushes inside. dim lights outline the path of where you both are going as you both trek into what looks to be a small and dark bar. an orange light shines around the bar area as you both take a seat on the stools there. the lights shine on jay's side profile, the shadow casting on his sharp and angular face perfectly as you take in his jawline while he is talking to the bartender on what he would like to order before he turns to you.

when his eyes are on you, you can feel how your heart is pulsating. his cold gaze to others is warm to you—like a flame being lit up that attracts you like a wanderer in a dark forest walking closer to a burning campfire. it feels like a refuge, a refuge you could trust yourself to be comfortable with after the past days where you had to gather most of your things and move them away to a location that ningning, and especially wonbin, doesn't know. tiring away your days and nights from practising with your bosses on how to work the ice cream machine and how to deep fry stuff—helping them with their businesses until late at night and even until closing time.

"i'll go with the same," the bartender nods at your impromptu response when you realise that you took too long to answer the question. and with him leaving, you and jay remained there quietly. the place is bustling with mostly the sound of music playing that is nearing the end—but it is a place meant to be used to socialise quietly, unlike the pub you worked at before or the club you and jay meet. there is a shine of uv lights on one side of the room that makes it purple, creating a beautiful contrast with warm orange light. as you heard the song vibrating around the room, you glance around to find a bright jukebox near where you are both sitting—the sound coming out from it.

the bartender set down the glasses of daiquiri before you both as jay's head shook rhythmically whilst listening to the jazz song playing from the jukebox. you pick up the glass and immediately take a drink as you feel the icy liquid freshen you up, looking at the beverage glass you sip from before turning towards jay, who is only onto his.

"ah, sorry," you push the glass to meet his with a little clinking sound as you reply with, "cheers."

jay blinks his eyes, but he grows a smirk on his face before taking a sip of his own daiquiri. you both were sitting there peacefully, even though it seems that you two are in a more casual outfit than the other patrons look like. the bar does seem to be more or less like a speakeasy would look like—hidden with not many people knowing to keep that exclusivity. with the brashness of the pub and music venue you frequented for work or to gaze at the performing band, this is the place that you've been searching for to mix up your nights. a place that lets you drink, but still lets you think alongside it. abling you to think about everything you need to figure out in your life, especially with your relationships and all. to, at least, balance them all as best as you could.

"(y/n)," the deep voice calls for you as you glance at jay—his face already fronting yours as you see his irises flickering up and down, taking in you clearly with the better lighting. "why'd you need a new job?"

the question is so profound for you, as with only a number of people here you personally know in this very city, they never ask you about many of your reasons for decision making. why did you move away? why did you join them? what will you do? your beating heart continues as you think of your answer, a succinct yet understandable one.

"well," you lick your bottom lip. "as you know, i'm not from seoul. i'm from a little island near busan called geoje, and uh…" you let out an exhale, "i moved here to help get money for my mom. my dad passed away when i was still in middle school, so she is the one taking care of me until i graduated, while taking jobs here and there. and when i had the opportunity to go to seoul, she pushed me to do it. and here i am now." nods of your head ended your words as you take another sip of your cocktail, letting the alcohol buzz you. your hand gestures an open palm to him—an offer for him to continue the conversation.

"you know that i'm a business major. it's because my family owns a business here. logistics." you look to his eyes, the way they scrunch alongside his nose. "we're not chaebols, though we do work with them. but honestly," he shakes his head before peering back to you, "i don't really like that side of the social world."

you scoffed as you play with the rim of your glass, tracing around it that you can already guess costs a huge amount of heat temperature to shape them. "funny how different we are economy-wise. yet here we are, in this chaos that is seoul. running around nocturnally because the day stings us."

eyes looking at how his smirk widens and nods his head as he agrees with your words—letting the bar's atmosphere swallow you into its depths. your stool had scooted closer to him, letting your forearm which is resting on the counter brush against his. you noticed how his knuckles have scars on them and the calluses on his fingertips that is so familiar to wonbin's. those fingertips were the ones you noticed on him when you first sat down at the table with the rest of the five during your slow shift at the eatery, brushing your fingers against wonbin's unconsciously as your marred hands join in with each other's. and you do so with jay.

your fingers reach between his, brushing the calluses on his fingertips as you feel the electric spark. none of you are talking about anything as the silence clasps you both—talking isn't really the defining part of your relationship when you can understand his intentions just by gazes and non-verbal gestures. then, you felt it. how his fingers are also moving to brush against yours, slotting themselves between your fingers before curling against them: locking you into a small yet assuring embrace that tells how he is there for you—no matter how unconventional.

senses heightened as you felt his warmth transfer onto you, but you can also feel how your heart is clenching because of the familiarity. your acute hearing now makes you realise that the music had stopped, making you glance towards the jukebox as you let go of his small embrace; startling the boy when you stand up and stride away from him.

with a hand inside your bag, you walk by to see the jukebox's intricate design. a line of vinyl discs waiting to be picked as you pull out the coins and plunge them into the coin slot. the machine whirls on as you see the lights by the number pad. randomly, you pressed down a number as you see the machine pushing out the disc you pick. a metal hand picks it up and places it on the turntable, seeing it spins as the tonearm moves above the vinyl disc and pushes down—letting the needle read the grooves on the disc as you read the spinning album name in the middle while a loud guitar melody plays.

the beatles' rubber soul.

you have heard of the beatles numerous times because of wonbin. many times he had said that the beatles is his favourite band of all time, but he only had three of their albums. rubber soul is not one of them. yet, the sensation of how you are trying to forget about your ex-boyfriend instead is being torn down when you hear the familiar voice of paul mccartney. and combining that with how tipsy you have gotten from the near-finished glass of your daiquiri, you knew that you needed to get out of this place and get out of that space your ex-boyfriend brings you every time an item reminds you of him.

get out to run from ever thinking of everything as wonbin even when you are not near him—physically and emotionally.

and so, you run. the sound of someone's voice calling your name brushes away from the gush of speed as you retreat the steps you have gone through, climbing up the flight of stairs with floor lamps on each side of the path before being met with seoul's cold night atmosphere once again. with your tipsy vision, you are attracted to one side of the road where the lights are shining bright. the nearest subway station should be that way as your feet brought you towards it in auto-pilot—like a moth flying to a flame that is getting brighter and brighter with blue fire—much more attractive but also more dangerous. tears are free-falling down your cheeks as you mentally slap yourself on why you are thinking about wonbin when you are with jay.

you should be fucking ashamed of yourself. jay doesn't deserve someone like you, who can't even separate your ex-boyfriend from yourself.

footsteps are chasing after you—reminding you of when you escape from your apartment tower before wonbin ever catches you—and with a surge of adrenaline kicking in your tired self, you push yourself to run. but the footsteps behind you were quicker and you felt yourself being enveloped in a full-on embrace. the quiet cries you were letting out, turning into wails as you hold onto that memory, the boy that you once loved now hunting you down throughout the city as you feel more and more unsafe. that is when you heard jay's voice coming from your right ear.

"i'm here," he spoke only to you as your head lulls, body trembling whilst he holds you upright. lifting your hands up, you cover your face and let the dark consume you once again. yet, his hands don't let go. every touch on your body that reminds you of wonbin is all being cleared by jay, especially when he scented you that night. you turn around his arms and wrap your own around him, feeling his broad shoulders as you hide your face into the crook of his neck. jay's hand brushes down your spine in a soothing way—the same way your mom gave you when you hugged her for the last time before joining wonbin and his gang in their van on your way to seoul.

even if jay was looming over you like a shadow, his embrace feels like a blanket against the cool temperature. you brought your head beside his ear, whispering, "bring me to the spot under the bridge," and you felt him nod against your shoulder.

riding behind him once again, your blurry eyes take in the seoul streets as you hold onto him tightly. your trembling body becomes unnoticeable in the velocity of the ride as the lights then go out of your vision and are replaced by the streetlights as the road goes downwards from the hilly areas. the glimmering highrises look like stars from far away as the bike arrives at the parking lot of the river. you eyed the snack bar near the pathway beside the river's edge as you stepped down from the bike and rushed past jay towards the bench under the bridge, finding solace in being undetected as your body continues to shake.

jay follows you as your hand leans on the metal table before bringing you to sit on the bench, hands finding your waist as he lets you snuggle into him once again. under the bridge, you both sit there as the void of the night tells you both how alone you are. under the vastness of stars, light, and raven-colored sky, you only have each other.

he felt your hand lift off as jay turns to look at it, moving towards your neck as you tug on the choker that felt more tightening than ever. so, jay reacted; brushing your hair aside as he found the clasp that looked like a belt buckle and gently took it off. you take a huge inhale when you feel the tightness off of your neck as he pulls it into his palm, making you turn your head towards him with his free hand on your jaw. jay looks downward at the neck, checking for any marks on your neck that are a sign of the accessories being worn too tightly. instead, he found a mark that rested in the middle between the two edges of the choker; the colour of the skin is different from your natural tone. the line is small across the middle of the neck, but it's wider nearest the middle. then, with his widened eyes, he realised what the mark meant.

"i haven't been truthful with you," you can now say as you watch his eyes focused on the mark left behind on the column of your neck. the memories—remembering your trembling hand as you hold onto the kitchen knife against the skin, ready to end it all. slowly and slowly, letting out your truth, understanding that you are comfortable to make him know.

"i worked at the pub with the music venue near the club, where my ex-boyfriend performs. he was, is…" you shake your head as jay moves to cup your face, brushing your tears away as you didn't realise more of the fat drops coming out. "i don't love him anymore. yet, he is still stringing me around, giving me hope and breaking it all the time until i had enough. so, i decided to get a new job to leave him behind and i have been going to the club when i had the chance to get away. to your club."

"not my club," he instantly replies.

"you know what i mean," you answered back as he nods—how you refer to the club as the place that you both meet, "but yeah. i'm trying to live my life here and away from him as possible if i could. it also means doing activities at night so that i can't go and find him fucking someone at the venue."

jay takes in your words and arrange them carefully to make all of it makes sense. that you are from geoje who goes to seoul to find a job to help your mom back home, working in a pub where you meet your boyfriend there and he seems to be the cheating type, especially if the mark on your neck means something that he was thinking. his eyes study into yours, dilate with wide pupils as you take in as much of the light as possible from the darkness—the darkness that you deem to be a haven. under his embrace, your presence shakes him so much that he worries about your well-being. he is then being reminded of the scars that bruised your face when he first noticed you, adding that to note when you mentioned this ex-boyfriend of yours. a beautiful face undeserving of being marked that way. and also, to the way you could still understand him even with how minimal he talks, as he only opens his mouth if necessary—information exchange, guidance, greetings, and farewells.

the loomer that jay is now recognises that you are a full loomer like him—to escape whatever life you are living in the comfort of the dark—adding to that is your mindset that he has been piecing together like puzzle pieces, creating an image he can identify. you had lived an interesting he wished he had lived. but there is more to it when all he wants to do is to stay by your side and be with you in the many life-changing decisions you are going through right now.

jay also realises that he has fallen in love with you, that he wants to protect you and become your comfort. it's the reason why he is the one leaning forward first, connecting his lips to yours as he closes his eyes.

the sparks you felt when you brushed your fingers with his now turn into megawatts that could light a huge advertisement billboard when he kisses you. your eyes are still open, staring into his closed lids as you can't believe what is happening. from your mind, even with the encounters you have that can be counted with fingers, you know he isn't someone who expresses his feelings freely. it's the reason why his company—including his ignorance of you when standing in the same corner as he is—still feel as comfortable as ever. because he isn't nosy like other boys who see you as a target. yet, you felt something deeper with him when he wants to help you evade wonbin, when he wants to help you explore seoul and find a job; though you aren't fully open to the circumstances that you are in. something that is so unconditional that you haven't felt in a long time. and here you two are, kissing under the bridge beneath the stars that shine on seoul.

with your heart now beating not out of fear, you close your eyes and move your lips against his, taking in the way he moves as you let him take the lead—eyelashes caressing his and a hand resting on his nape. jay's hands move to cup both of your cheeks so delicately as your lips move to accommodate him. more and more sparks continue to pop and you feel shivers running down your spine. it spreads wider as you sense one of his hands move under your jean-covered thigh, signalling you to move as he pushes you so you could straddle him. the sigh coming out of between your lips makes him push his tongue to greet yours. kisses now opening more as you also try to suck on his tongue. his hands move to splay across your shoulder blades as yours move to brush his hair.

the fresh air skims against your skin when you perceive the coolness of both of your salivas on your lips. jay's head moves downwards, to your jaw and then to your neck. he focuses on there, kissing your scar numerous times from one side to another as you let out a sigh, leaning back to give him more expanse of your skin as you lightly bite on your lip, eyes gazing at the steel bars holding the structure upright above you, before glancing to find the lights on the other side of the path under the bridge. yet, they couldn't distract you from jay who is kissing your scar like crazy. like he is replacing that scar with his kisses instead, and you like it.

pulling him away with a tug of his hair, you push your head downwards as you places your forehead against his. and finally, he opened his eyes. the whites in them are nearly overtaken as he darts up at you, taking breaths to stabilize himself while you gaze into the beautiful darkness of his eyes. you take in jay's scent—the familiar woody cigarette scent now adding to your comfort trigger as you slowly brush his hair with your fingers. your eyes are slowly tearing up as you blink them away, glancing at his temple instead of his face.

"thank you," you state, not knowing what to say with the overwhelming emotions you are experiencing.

"i'm here for you." jay echoes what he said the last time when he embraces you, adding more to the list in your mind that compares him and wonbin. and so, you let out a small smile and hug him fully. his head resting beside yours on your shoulder as his cuddle continues to relax you. yet, the tears in your eyes continue to form and now fall down from the brimming eyelids. jay could definitely hear your sniffers as you felt him squeezing you tighter. but when he realises that the tears that wet his top are because you can now cry cathartically—he was wrong.

from your standpoint, the tears that have been falling from your eyes ever since jay hugs you are definitely full of joy, the first real joy you had felt in this city. but it is also the tears that have a tinge of guilt because you know that this could be the last time you feel his warmth again—you won't be able to when you go home.

-

jay had never been so dependent on his cell phone since the first time he got it back when he was in his freshman year of university the gloomy green hue of the screen stares back at him in the dark as he had always expected your message to come in. in regular intervals like the documents coming in from the fax machine full of reports that he had to scan through. as promise from last week, you had been keeping him up with texts and he to you as well.

(y/n) - 10.55 pm ive dun my shift

words that he could easily decipher, knowing that sms are being counted per character you are sending and the limited keyboard options, such as no apostrophes and periods, unlike the keyboard wired to his computer.

you have always been a part of his life ever since you told him of your job—well, when he discovered your job by himself. his eyes widened as he finds you manning the counter of the snack bar nearest to his regular spot at the han river bank—telling with your eyes that "yes, this is the job i told you about." ever since then, whenever his gang wants to buy food whilst hanging out and smoking joints on their bench underneath the bridge, he is the one that is coming there; letting your presence enter his grace as he points out the orders his friends are wanting from the back of his mind.

yet, you haven't kept up with him anymore today. all constant text you have texted in regular intervals disappears in an instant. the last message sent was from last night, 10.55 pm, when you finished your shift.

he pulls his cell phone out and looks down to find no notification number with your name attached to it, letting the booming techno music enter one of his ears and go out the other. jay blinks slowly, hoping that after his singular blink, he could see your name inside the shaded rectangle and a "1" showing up alongside the word "message received". but none came at all. and so, he leans back against the wall once again. the burning cigarette was nearing the end as he could feel the heat getting hotter and hotter close to his fingers.

as he crushed the cig under his foot, jay thinks back on your words from last week. how he felt something even when you only looked at him in a glance at the snack bar whilst taking care of many orders, to the characters of your message that entered his phone and how it also reflects how you speak in real life. a voice full of curiosity, yet it has a tinge of tiredness as well. his eyes landed on the exit sign above the main entrance. to the establishment you had spoken about near this very club.

for first time in a while, jay voluntarily steps out of his shadowy corner.

the boys also seem to notice it, eyes sticking onto their friend's figure who glides on the floor towards the entrance, moving in tandem with the crowd so he doesn't bump into them, and jay disappears into the other side of the room. the boy's eyes met the bouncer—who looks at him weirdly for going out so early in the night—as he gives a curt nod. he pulls his cigarette box, pushing one of the sticks out as he bites it between his lips. hands expertly moving to grab his lighter as the familiar click rings to him, letting the blunt burn as he peers from side to side—knowing the venue you meant as it is something he had gone past many times. with a step forward and another, he takes off into the shadowy night.

the orange flame on the end of the cigarette tells everyone outside of the vicinity of the shadow of jay's presence. his footsteps clear on the silent asphalt street where most of the people are inside the building; dancing, drinking, and fucking the night away. but his eyes are focused on one side of the road, looking between the entrances of buildings that are closed for the night to scan the ones in between them. from small restaurants to other club entrances.

his eyes landed on one with spotlights shining on the wall, posters of up-and-coming bands plastered there alongside their schedules—seemingly like regular performers as he couldn't see a specific date on the texts. only hours and days. he heard the sound of guitar strums muffled by the layers of walls. jay looks up and down at the entrance's appearance, seeing the name of the pub that you had mentioned before—confirming that this is the place you have talked about numerous times, even if it's not directly named. the security guard at the inside of the entrance stands as jay shows him his ID, before he moves sideways to let him in.

walking through a short hallway, the guitar sounds get louder and louder when he is met with open space. the bar is nearest to him as he looks at the other side of the room to find a performing band standing on stage. a four-person band, two on guitars, one on bass, and one on the drums. one of the guitarists seems to be the frontman with the mic stand erected in front of him as he sings into it—his bright voice constructing a source of light in the otherwise dark room. his hair is long with his bangs floppy near the corner of his lips, making the audience whoon as he swipes it away behind his ear. a smug showing in his face, yet jay's mouth could only taste bitterness.

that guy was exactly like how you mentioned your ex-boyfriend to be.

taking a few steps forward, the stage expands as jay continue to watch the band playing. the frontman playing the guitar so loosely, he couldn't help but compare it to how he plays guitar in his spare time. like it had become such a routine, the frontman doesn't need to exert more of his passion into it. and as the song comes to an end, the band plays a few last notes before ending with a huge ending for a flashy performance. cymbals ringing alongside the guitar chords before it stops, and is replaced by the cheering. audiences' hands raised up from clapping to waving as the frontman flips his guitar behind him, unplugging the amplifier cable before bowing his head to the audience. then he steps away as jay's sight continues to follow his figure. walking to the side of the stage when he finally sees two girls standing side by side. one with a smile on her face and the other has an indifferent expression.

you.

everything that he sees is behind the layer of shadows—ignored by the spotlight that is fixed to beam the stage. the frontman walks to approach you as jay can see your every expression with another step forward. the plain look on your expression is imbued with a little melancholy as you then smile when the boy stands before you. then, he hugs you first, your head appearing by his shoulder as he watches how your arms wrap behind the boy's figure, eyes looking at his head from the corner of your eyes before letting yourself close your eyes. jay's breath hitches as he continues to stare, eyes looking at your face with closed eyes when the frontman pulls back and pushes you again. now: to kiss you.

even from afar, he could see how you reacted. your hands gripping onto his shoulder as the female friend steps aside from the two of you, making him press you against the wall as the boy's body covers most of you. and as the band members collect their money alongside the female who moves away, jay's eyes are still on you as the boy moves you around so he could see the sides of both of the figures. then, he turns you around, pushing his chest to your back as his head moves down to your neck. his hands move to the waist that jay had held before to then as he sees the frontman's hand rising up to your black tank top. the lines on your face creased as jay could see the boy's hands giving a squeeze where your breasts are, making your hands reach up to them.

jay's body is now shaking, watching as you fall into the arms of the frontman—who he now knows is what you claimed to be your ex-boyfriend. yet, an ex should push away whenever they touch you. but you don't?

his eyes become seethingly blurry with how hard he squeezes his hands. nostrils flaring as he watches how you let yourself go in your ex's embrace. he shakes his head. surely not. surely you don't only see him as a rebound? is he a rebound? his heart aches more and more as jay continues to look at your face. the face that has been crying and smiling in his arms is now unfamiliar. that is, until he sees you tilt your head to look straight, opening your eyes to realise the location you are in, before letting them wander and meet with his sight.

the tears start to form instantly in your eyes as you look across to see jay. his nose crunched up as he examined between you and the boy who was groping you. jay nods his head before stepping away to the entrance. a dread made of an imaginary ice-cold water flows down onto your body as you quickly grip and claws wonbin's hand, disgust overwhelming you as you can't believe yourself for falling back once again in his embrace. you were so strong, yet you limp in his arms when you only wanted to be there to say your final farewell—to put this all in closure. to tell him to stop tracking you down again, in the nicest way possible. but it is impossible to do so with him when he still knows that you haven't fully let go of your wrap around his finger.

with a surge of shame and rage, you turned around and pushed wonbin away, staggering him as he was taking more time to balance himself with his guitar on his back. a smirk showing on his face like he knew, he knew what he was doing by taking advantage of you. and, it seems like he knew about the existence of jay, too.

"I FUCKING HATE YOU!" you screamed, catching the attention of every one in your vicinity. you take a few steps as you point to his chest multiple times.

"we're done and i should've said it yesterday," you said succinctly before walking away from—finally—your ex-boyfriend as you chase down jay's figure that must have been where you were minutes before. hurried walks claim you as you jump and skip towards the entrance and find the front where the performers' posters are stuck. eyes wandering around on the street as you picked up your phone, clicking the button open to press the number listed first in your contacts.

the line rings as you press it up against your ear. bottom lip slowly being bitten as you just want to know where he will be going—scrambling your mind and awaiting for him to pick up the call. it rings longer and longer as you realise he is not picking up and you dropped the hand holding the phone. then, you gaze at one side of the road; the path that you have always recognised when you need to escape this very place. and you run.

shadows surround you with streetlights becoming beacons, yet your feet are stepping onto the clear road swiftly, making the light unable to capture you anyway. you eyed the shiny entrance of the club. the familiar bouncer greets you as you step inside.

techno music makes the room vibrate as you have to wrap your arms in front of you. feeling your exposed shoulders brushing against people's bodies as your eyes are stuck to one corner of the room, a corner so dark to see from the outside. yet, you are very much attracted to it and the boy who resides there.

as you step into the barrier of darkness, his name flew out of your mouth.

"jay?" it rings. bouncing on the corners of the wall as your hand reaches out, trying to feel something warm and sturdy. but, you are instead being met with a rough-textured wall on the side where he usually stands. the side where he is so close to the barrier of the corner, the dj booth becomes a background of your view of him. panic began to show up as you turned around to look outside of the shadow, eyes seeing the booth with faces that you had recognised from meeting time to time in the past week. jay's friends.

as you approach, you see two of them making out with girls who are sitting on their laps. another wiping their nose of powder, and the one by the edge of the booth holding onto his glass full of vodka with coke on the melting rocks. his eyes, as well as the girl that snuggling beside him, look towards you when you approach.

"(y/n). right?" the last guy you noticed asks.

"yeah…" you looked around the booth as you scanned the view of it all. the boys all dress like how jay dresses, yet their behaviour is more open, extroverted—especially in contrast to the way jay lives his life. jay is the darkness that supports the neon colours of his friends' presence behaviour—creating the completeness of their friend group.

"do you know where jay is?" the question easily slips out of your lips as the two couples who were making out had stopped. one of the boys, who is letting a girl kiss him down his jawline, nudges the friend who was asking, like he knows some information and for him to say it.

"i don't know. he just went outside. earlier than what we used to see," the boy says, making you nod your head as you gesture back to them with an open palm to your chest. a small "thank you" coming from you as you turned back towards the entrance of the club.

if jay was not in the club, he must be somewhere you know—a place you and he have familiarised with. his favourite place in this hellhole of the city.

the nighttime's darkness permeates across the tunnels connecting the nearest exit to the concourse of the subway train. the usual crowded hallways are now filled only with you. your feet walk you down the path you are used to, standing on the moving escalator that runs between pillars that are holding the building above to not crush at the place you are standing. the whirlling of the machine enters your ears along with the sounds of the footsteps and the air conditioning fan that lets fresh air into the underground.

your eyes continue to look down on your sneakers-covered legs even as the train is moving. your body's buzzing all throughout because you are still, deep down, hoping that jay will be where you guess he will be. his motorcycle can take him anywhere he wants, from myeong-dong to gangnam to the hidden bar you both find yourself in for a different atmosphere take you haven't fully taken note of the location yet. and as the sound of the announcement rings through the near-empty train cars, saying the name of your stop, you push yourself up from the seat and let your body move on autopilot. down the familiar hallways, to the step out to the concrete ground outside, and finally, the path with trees and shrubs around it.

finally looking up, you gaze upon the beautiful view across from your figure; of the buildings with lights on, showing their occupancy even if there is no one in there for the night. you eyed the small shack you have called home for a week now—figuratively and literally—as you peer towards the open space under the bridge full of benches and tables for people to shield themselves from the sun, the rain, and the city. your eyes glance at the spot under the bridge, squinting your eyes ever so slightly to find something that reflects the light in the dark of what looks to be a white takeaway plastic bag. a smile grows instantly on your face before it falls as you take a deep breath and move forward.

"jay?" he could hear your voice calling from beside him, yet his eyes were stuck on the blinking needle on top of the tallest tower across the river. yet, you won't stop even if he doesn't answer.

jay sensed you sitting beside him, your thighs touching his as on his face formed a faint scowl that hurt you more as he continued to—softly—ignore you.

"i'm sorry," your words caught his attention, making him peek at you from the corner of his eyes slightly before returning to the scenery, "for making you see me that way. it's my fault i accepted it. And yeah, who you see with me is my ex-boyfriend, wonbin. the one that i told you about."

your hands grasp each other on your lap and you continued with your eyes closed shut, "i'm sorry for lying to you. i only had broken up with him officially right at that moment when i noticed you were there. i'm sorry for guiding you along like that. for the texts i have been sending to fill with only half-truths. for the many things i have to hide, knowing that everything i talked about will then be spread like what my friend says to him and-"

you felt warmth on top of your hands, looking down to see jay's on top of yours, curling his fingers to clasp onto them. "one by one," his comment so simple as you nodded. and so, you tell him everything. everything that you have been planning for the past week or two since you decided to live separately from wonbin's unit. context that will paint your situation for him completely, with no remorse.

"i am collecting enough money to fulfil my target for my mom and then go back home to geoje. seoul is not for me at all. i miss the slow pace style of living, thinking of trivial things on a daily basis. to be greeted by the sea every time you wake up and look out from your window." you gulped down. one explanation down as you skim at jay to find him looking back at you.

"i met wonbin, his bandmates, and their female friend when they were on a trip to geoje, finding themselves in the eatery i was working in. i was the only one on that shift with the owner as the chef alongside the barista for the drinks." a small smile grows on your face when the memories of the first encounter plays in your mind. "they were all so lovely, asking me to sit with them as we converse when i see that this particular guy—wonbin—is staring at me. so, i know at that moment that he is attracted to me. they asked me about many things and they came to know me well from the information they gathered. how i speak, how i think, how i perceive. especially wonbin, who could read it like it is written with big and thick-styled penmanship. so, they asked me to go to seoul with them when they're going back."

a scoff coming out of your lips as you remember more from that to continue, "i was thinking they were only kidding me. but i realise that they were serious, specifically after they all see this metaphorical glow when wonbin and i converse because we find a lot of things in common. i discuss with my mom about whether i should move away or not and all its many factors. i know that i still also some opportunities if i stay to work in busan, closer to my mom if she needs anything she can't get it herself so i could get the earliest bus and ride it to geoje. but, she convinces me to go to seoul. saying to me about bigger opportunities and such, but also taking risks for my life as well. so i go and as a result, wonbin and his friends are my lifelines here."

peeking back at jay, he had already turned his upper body to face you, his eyes telling you to continue on as you nodded, "wonbin and i established ourselves as officially dating when we arrived in seoul. though i do think the way he is seeing me transforms into a groupie persona towards the last few months. he never treats me seriously and only thinks of me as, like, this doll he owns. placing his hands on me whenever a customer gets to close to me whilst i was working at the pub. as months goes, i realised that he is very unloyal, fucking other girls behind my back even if we are in the same vicinity. it makes me feel so… limited." you rubbed your hands, "that people aren't on my side even when i talk about it. so, i started pushing the limits and went to the club that his friends introduced me to after a gig. during that escapade alone, i stayed in that corner a few times. not realising you were there with me."

you quickly put your hanging back on your lap, feeling your shoulder becoming lighter from the weight. "i realised i was at rock bottom. no other friends to confide in. no known familial connections with. no money for myself because i have to take care of our day-to-day lives. killing myself would probably be the easiest way out because i don't have anyone else here other than wonbin and his friends also enabling that, even the female friend who i wish would understand me more. one night, i decided to pull out a kitchen knife and," your hand forms into a gripping motion, placing it by your neck, "put it right there on my skin. the sharpness pierces through the surface as i felt warm blood flowing down. thinking about the hardships overshadowing the opportunities, about not being able to explore, and being stuck like i am in a cage."

with a hiss, you dropped your fist. "then, my mom's face shows up, she who is alone in geoje only with my extended families, expecting me to have fun and live my life happily here. i realised that i was selfish for wanting to go when i still have someone who is looking forward to my future no matter how it goes. so, i stopped and quickly wrote a letter to be sent to her, saying that i will be going home in a couple of months."

you brush your hair, feeling the cathartic turmoil that itches your skin as you are pouring everything out to jay; letting him know every truth to him. "then, around last month now. i decided to move out of wonbin's place to our shared female friend's unit. sleeping there at night but still getting my clothes and belongings out of his unit one by one when i found him fucking someone on our bed. he was blacked out drunk and pissed and so he beat me down, bruising my face that even his fucking paramour pitied me so much she rescue me from him. the next day, i walked away from the pub as we had an argument and how he doesn't even apologize to the bruises i have on my face. so i went to the club and to the corner when i finally realised you are there. that's where you come in, saving me as wonbin is chasing me down."

a chuckle came out of you, "the day after it, when you brought me home to the apartment tower and i told you about finding a new job, he tried to fuck me and my body is struggling to held on the morals i have set. to stop him. so when he found me living in his friend's place, he pushed himself on me. i realised that whatever plan i try is not going to work anymore and i have to act quick. i refuged somewhere else that night." jay's eyes shook as you told him what happened after he left, his head tilting down to cower himself before you.

"when i got the job at the snack bar, i realised he was tracking me down. so, every single thing i own in his apartment that i have taken out has to also move as i don't feel safe in that apartment tower anymore because he shows up again the next day and hangs out with our shared friend like nothing ever happened between us. i try my best to be hidden from him—sneakily sneak off in my shift until i secured the job and told the manager at the pub i resigned—and many more things. you and your friends are the only ones who know i work in that snack bar." you look at the small building across from you, feeling how his hand is staying still in yours.

jay is sitting there in silence, head tilted back up to glance at you. his hand move to curl more against yours as he collects the words he wants to say, but first and foremost, the word that you deserve to hear after every single puzzle piece is now here and how he solved it fast—seeing the bigger picture.

"i'm sorry for not protecting you enough." his words enter your ears, making your body tense as you peer at him, feeling the walls that are making you so sturdy melt away. jay flips your hand and lets his fingers lock in between yours. "where are you staying?"

"well," you eyed the shack near the river once again before turning to him, "come with me."

the boy lets you guide his movement with the interlocked hands, walking closer and closer towards the building you work at, where only the exterior lights are on—telling its presence there for the night owls like him and you. jay looks down and notices the glint of light in your hand as you both walk toward the door labelled "staff only", putting the key into its hole as you turn it and hear the clicking of the lock. pushing the door open and walking inside, a small luminescnet orange light greets jay as he surveys the room. the shelves nearest to the door have items labelled ranging from flours to oils—the area is where the snack bar stores its inventory. but behind that small lamp is a dark corner of the room. his familiar eyes to the darkness let him find a few bags and a suitcase residing beside a makeshift bed made of cardboard, a pillow, and a towel for the duvet. the space between his eyebrows wrinkled as he turned back to you, making you let out a thin smile.

"i convince my bosses i can open and close the store because i practically have nothing else to do. i've been staying here and they don't know about it." jay walks closer whilst hearing you talk, examining your living conditions now when he sees dried wax from candles gather into one spot, making him turn towards where the light comes from to see it being a candle placed on a small ceramic plate. "i've been using a bunch of candles so that they couldn't detect that i'm staying here by the electricity meter." you spoke out, looking at the corner you've been calling home. even with its less-than-likely situation, you felt safer here than staying at ningning's when wonbin could just barge into the room.

"i wanted to buy some groceries for myself today when i came across wonbin. he's egging me on again about me 'not being confident in him' and all that stuff. we are technically separated, but not once have i verbalised that we are over because i just think that he had already stopped seeing me that way." your expression becomes a faint frown as you sigh.

"for one last time, i trust him, so he brings me back to his friends and to the venue once again. them asking about my whereabouts and i had to stay as quiet as possible so they couldn't track me down for him. love is finicky when you still feel the feelings for the person you love so confidently in front of you. wonbin is better at performing than the first time i saw him and i'm very proud of him for that. but, my body is just…" a huge exhale came out of you, "too familiar with him that whenever he touches me. like a snap," you say while doing a snap!, "i lost control. i realised i have never been in control when i am with him, but then i saw you and start to think about the things i have taken control for myself to get rid of him. the last one is to reclaim that control of mine on him. and so i did and chase down after you."

you turn around and face him, stepping closer as you look at him with remorse, "you've been the most supportive person i have had in a while. i apologise for stringing you along for whatever has happened in this short relationship we had. you're my saviour not only from wonbin, but from the harshness of seoul. you've made me less lonely, though i know you like to be alone even under the neon signs at night. i don't know if you still want to be friends, or whatever this is, with me. but i thank you for that. and when the time comes and i have enough to meet my financial target, i will buy the first ticket back to geoje no matter how expensive-"

his body acts after you say your last words, leaning in to kiss your breath away. your eyes blink into close as your frown fades and are replaced with furrowed eyebrows before he lets go. his breath blows on your skin as he glances you in the eyes. "i don't know if i could let you go that easily."

jay moves his head back to let you see his face as a whole, words are forming on the tip of his tongue, of something he wanted to say to you. "i have fallen for you, (y/n). i have fallen for your enthusiasm to learn, your bravery, and your resilience. as i said the last time, i'm here for you." his hand connected with yours. "you can stay with me. live with me and we will see how this goes for us."

"i don't want to burden you like that-"

"you won't be burdening me," jay replies immediately, a smirk shows on his face as he continues, "you've been making me less lonely as well."

a tear fell down the corner of your eye and when you wanted to wipe it away, jay beats you to it as you felt his thumb pressing down your cheek. "let me help you." he mumbles of for you. and with a long breath, you nodded at his words as you leaned into his hand that was cupping your face.

jay mounted the bike first as he put your travel bag in front of him, the plastic bag of the takeaway from the chinese food street vendor hanging on his left handlebar, and you carefully mounted the vehicle behind the suitcase to create a barrier for him and you as you stood with your heavy backpack—slowly hugging the huge bag and to some of its space on your lap as you gently move on the seat.

"will you be okay?" the engine revving by him at the front, as you're scared the bike will tumble out of balance.

"i'll keep it slow," jay replied, and with a push, the bike lurches. the way jay rides the bike is very clean; gone are the swerves between cars as he stays in one lane the entire time, even if the streets are mostly empty. but the wind still blows against both of your hairs as you look around the cityscape of seoul. the buildings that were were getting denser and denser as jay brought you to his neighbourhood, further away from the main streets.

parking at the residential parking lot, he helps you with the suitcase as you carry the travel bag and backpack full of your important belongings. you both enter the apartment tower and realise how clean it looks. no cracking walls and chipping paint, the tiles are placed so smoothly that you couldn't see the edges of each individual tile. the flight of stairs from your last apartment tower is replaced by a lift replaced as he presses the button open for you. silence spreading against the surfaces as you stood beside each other, sensing the floor beneath you ascending to the destination.

jay walks before you, dragging the suitcase by the handle as he stands in front of a door, pushing in the key before unlocking it. stepping inside, the first room you see is dimly lit with a tint of blue from the luminescent light—similar to the ambience of your space in the storage room of the snack bar. but, as you push your shoes off by the front door and step onto the floor made by wooden panels, you can see the room expanding. a kitchen area by the door that houses a little aquarium with a bunch of colourful small fishes. a personal computer sits on a desk near a window overlooking the view of the streets down below and the skyline visible from this floor.

the boy steps aside as he lets you look around the space. your eyes studied the surface of the coffee table to see documents, numerous documents of black ink on white paper scattered around. many of them are pristine printing, but some have some handwriting on them—like a study case for someone who is learning. you then move towards the window of the living area, finding a desk full of CDs in their cases and two guitar cases beside it—both electric and acoustic—making a pout form on your face.

"water?" you heard him say beside you as he hands you a glass of water. picking it up, you drink it down and don't stop—not realising how dehydrated you have been. you gulp all of it down until there is nothing left before placing it down on the coffee table. turning back towards his figure, he had pulled off his leather jacket and placed it on the couch, letting you see his build in the black t-shirt. how sturdy his shoulders look as you have leaned on them time to time on the bike that he rides.

your hand reaches out to him—fingers moving from curling to stretching—as he turns and meets yours with his. that is when he pulls you in and makes you stand before him. his free hand spread on your back, pushing you against him as he looks into your eyes with his own that is full of something that you have never felt in this way. wanting to see them closer, you lean your forehead against his, taking into consideration his confession as you give multiple nods.

"yeah," you started, "i like you, jay. i was thinking we were just friends, but that kiss last time changed that. and this time too. i know that i'm not going to be a perfect companion for you, but i wish you would be here with me on my healing journey."

you look downwards at his face to see his smile that has lifted up his lips, a smile with beautiful dimples on both cheeks. your hand moves to his nape, playing with the ends of his hair as you lean in closer, lips against his ear.

"i'm yours, jay. i'm yours to protect. yours to care. and i will do it back for you, if you let me," you mumbled, every breath you push out gracing his skin as you felt him nodding his head. that is when you felt his hand cupping your face and guiding your face back in front of his before pushing forward to let both of your pairs of lips kiss. your breath is taken away instantly as you feel the sparks between you explode your heart in a blooming fashion—unwrapping the rope that was holding you to that ex-boyfriend of yours and replacing it with a beautiful string to connect it with the boy in front of you.

the emotion that jay exuded whilst he was looking at you is lust with a hint of something emotional. something you replicate with your action as he guides you, licking your lips to make you open your mouth wider. he pushes his tongue to meet yours and to dance with each other. your other hand is grasping onto his shoulder blade so tight that you don't want to let him go right now—after everything clicks into your mind that you do have someone supporting you unconditionally. pulling himself back, you felt the coolness around your lips that was smeared with each other's saliva. jay's hand that is on your back guides you towards the open doorframe as he wraps himself around you from behind.

he guides you to sit on the bed as the light of the outside enters through the window covered by the sheer curtain. the view from the bedroom overlooks a huge street that looks so high up as you pivot back to face him. your palms are pushing yourself to sit upright as you bite your lip, staring up and down at how jay is pulling off his t-shirt, letting you see his tan golden skin even under minimal lighting. his arms are muscular and flex when they move, as your eyes are trailing from them to his torso and find the faint lines of his abdominal muscles

he's beautiful.

with a surge of confidence, you pull the hem of your tank top as you take it off upwards, feeling how free you are as jay looks at your exposed torso area. standing up, you step before him as you reach to the front of your neck, feeling the clasp of your choker as you pull it off like a belt. the skin breathes when it becomes loose before you pull one end with your movement. jay look as you show him the scar—the fear of exposing it is gone when it comes to him—as you drop the choker on the floor with his t-shirt and your top.

with another step closer, you felt how his chest grazed against your covered breasts. looking deep into his eyes, you speak, "i'm yours-"

he cuts you off with a kiss and you can feel the push of the skin-to-skin contact: goosebumps growing on your arms because of it. when you felt him moving his kisses down to your neck, your hands reach behind your back to unhook your bra as the cup falls from going lax—letting him pull them down as he kisses down the valley between your boobs. your hand reaches for his—the rightful person to touch you like this, as jay's touch replaces everything that was before it. his breath against your nipple makes it getting perky, a chuckle coming out from him as licks it before giving a suck whilst his hand reaches and plays with the other. your head leans back as your breathless moans come out, curling your fingers in his locks of hair before tilting down to watch and focus on his movement that is pleasuring you more and more.

jay takes the lead when he pushes you back onto the bed, making you move until your head finds his pillows when he climbs on top and kneels between your spread legs. his hand smooths down from below your boobs before meeting your navel and then the button and zipper of your jean pants. nodding your head, he pushes the button open and zips down the zipper before dragging them down your legs alongside your underwear. pushing them to the ground, he stands up by the front of the bed. you bit your bottom lip harder when you watch as he peels off all of his lower clothing pieces—letting you see just how big he is as he wraps his hand around his member—seeing how it grows bigger with just a few strokes. in return, you lick to of your fingertips and open your legs for him, feeling the coolness of your pre-cum as you slide your fingers against your slit while the other brushes against your boob—making you more aroused as you can't help to roll your eyes when you felt how sensitive your clitoris is.

he lets out a growl before lying down by your core, littering your thighs with kisses as you squirm underneath him. you put your forearms beside you as you push up, viewing how his eyes are looking at you as he finds your lower lips and licks around them. your hand moves back to your core, letting a finger dragged up from the top of your opening towards where your clit is—pushing it down as you let out a gasp, telling him where it is located as he replaces it with his thumb. jay presses down on it hard, making your body quiver as your jaw drops and gasps coming out of you.

when you felt his tongue dragging against your opening, you let out a moan that made you cover your mouth up—having never felt this as your ex-boyfriend only ever cared about himself when you both were having sex. your fingers found his hair once again, holding onto them as you look at how he is enjoying pleasuring you.

"jay…" you moaned out in a sigh, letting your head fall onto the pillow with your legs moving to lie on his upper back, making him grip onto your calf as he pushes you wider for him. then, you felt his finger prodding the hole and caressing the rim before pushing in, making your walls clamp on him as he groans at the tightness.

"please…" another moan left you as you look down to meet his gaze, making him pushing another finger in as he widens them and pushes against your walls.

"preparing you for me," he finally spoke, making you wetter than ever as you can feel him opening you up and even motioning as you hear the moisture sound coming from his fingers penetrating you. jay's tongue returns as he licks and give a slight suck on your clitoris, using every might of his to be patient—but also a revenge for making him worry and even mad at you.

"i'm ready- c- cum-" you voiced out as your legs tremble and a white flash goes over your vision, feeling another gush of arousal coating his fingers as he licks the lips up, letting him taste your cum and making him hum. then, his fingers are gone as you whine out with creased eyebrows. then, he climbs fully onto the bed and kneels between your legs. his fingers are shining from your release as he lets the same hand wrapped around his shaft—now hard and veiny—before stroking it to let the blood flow more.

as your hand finds his back, you reach up to give a single kiss on his lips. then, you wet your palm with your saliva and help stroking him, feeling the bluntness of his glans as you felt his pre-cum coming out—making you spread them down his hard cock. the width of your palm is only able to wrap around half the sixe of his penis length as he helps with stroking the other half. with his hand wrapped around the base as you let go to lie fully down on the bed, you hiss as he playfully drags the head across your opening. playing around by tapping it against your clit as your breath becomes more unstable. and when he claims you by pushing his cock in, your heartbeat's pace becomes quicker.

his hips move slowly as he looks down on you, watching as you nod your head and mouth "yes" on repeat. your eyes flicking back into your skull as he pushes in deeper and deeper—more than half of him now inside you. your walls continue to clamp down around him, making him catch his breath as he finally fully enters you. your hand teasingly lifts up to press down on the hardness beneath your belly button, making both of you moan as you can feel him within you and he can sense the pressure of your hand.

"fuck!" he retorted as you nodded at him.

"move, please. make me yours," you let out, putting your trust in him. you felt him pull out halfway before plunging back inside, again and again, until he felt your arousal coating him and making it smoother to slide in you. it continues until he sees the pain fading from your face and he starts adjusting the pace. the moans that are getting louder and louder make you cover it with your palm before jay removes it and muffles it with his lips. continuing as the pace gets faster and faster and how you wrapped your legs behind him.

sweats start to form around your and his bodies as your forehead sticks against his, feeling how his face scrunches as the pleasure kicks him too. your hands clawing on his back muscles as he swallows your moans that are getting more frequent. your walls forming to accommodate his shape as the moist sound continues on. then, he starts to change his pace—focusing on thrusting slowly and deep as his tip even slips out of your hole, making you grab his now wet hard cock and guide him as he thrust deep until it reaches your cervix, brushing your g-spot.

lust dissipates in his eyes as you cup jay's face with your hand. now, all the love that is hiding beneath it shows up as he leans into your touch. his hand that is resting beside you on the pillow moves to the back of your head and pushes it up, making your body fold as you see him sinking himself deep inside you. the pleasure spreading across your body as you see how he dissapears when you become full, eyes looking up at his face that as he also watches the way his cock enters you.

"i'm not letting you go easily," he whispers to himself, but with such a small distance, you can hear it as you continue to nod, eyes staring up to meet his as you reply with the way your eyes gaze at him. groans and moans decorate the space between the two of you as he reads your body language, taking your physique into his mind so he could remember every aspect of it.

with every push, you are getting closer and closer to reaching the peak that he is taking you to, making you relax on the bed as he brushes his body against you. chest to chest. hips to hips. you give him a lasting kiss as you mouthed "cum" against his lips before your jaw drops. white flashes show up again as he holds your back as you arch into him. a moan coming out loud as he slams his lips onto yours, his pace is getting faster as you enter overstimulation when you feel his groan against your lips and his few thrusts become so deep yet erratic. then, you felt warm liquid spurting against your walls.

you both breathe out heavily against each other. his hands massaging your hips as you felt his release, making you feel so full inside as it flows out to the opening of your hole. your face furrowed with many emotions swirling around as you hug him, feeling his kisses stained across your scarred neck as you can't help but to sob. jay doesn't need to ask you anything about it and he lets you have this release, making you anchored against him as you echoed what he whispered before towards him.

"i won't let go of you either."

-

as he opened the closed lids of his eyes, jay blinked as the sun glistened on him and a small smile formed on his face.

he looks outside the window beside him, your head resting against his shoulder with both of your hands linked as the trees and plain greenery greet him along the train track. a rare scenery to admire when he found himself growing up in a concrete jungle. the view slowly morphs from an overall green-colored view to specks of houses adding in. lone houses stand between fields of what looks to be rice and root vegetables before the tunnel consumes them in the darkness. the chugging of the train continues as it navigates the shadow-covered tracks, when he sees the light seeping into it from the side and expands as the view before him makes gasps coming out.

hills full of buildings on one side as the more the train goes on the track, the more he finds numerous towers showing—not as high as what seoul has to offered, but still enough to instill in him the urban area you have mentioned to him numerous times about this city. as the track continues to run into neighborhoods of people on both side, jay watches them living their lives as he hear loud giggles when he sees children waving towards the moving train—greeting the people into their hometown. then the sign tells him he has arrived at his destination.

busan.

the morning after you decided to stay with him, jay had called his dad about the busan office he knows his family's company have—as it is one of korea's main hubs for trading, especially with ships to and from japan and other countries reached by sea. his life, which was full of darkness and uncertainty, has obscured much of what he wants in his future. but now with you by his side, the misty path becomes clearer as he could sense his dad's surprised joy as his son wants to take his job seriously. but on one condition.

"can i work at the busan office?" he had asked, eyes on the living room as he heard the sound of the shower water running with you inside, cleaning yourself up.

his dad's agreement continues with a few more questions as he finally tells him about you and also his tiredness of living in a swift-paced seoul. and so, after two months from that night when you lived with him, he decided to move away with you. other than his seriousness in this relationship with you, he also wants to explore more of korea because seoul is not everything. jay was too young when he lived in seattle and that made him only have vivid memories when he remembered living there. and because of the unreclaimed memory, he now pushes himself outside of his comfort zone. to create new ones that could elevate him and let him explore more.

when he drags his suitcase and carries his travel bags as you do your own, you both walk towards the arrival area. then he sees you speedwalking in front of him, swerving around the sea of people as you rush forward and let go of your bags you are holding with your hands. arms opened wide to hug an older woman who is much shorter than he and you. jay approaches as you turn around, wiping your tears as the older woman stares up at him.

"this is my mother. and mom, this is my boyfriend," you say with your arms wrapping her in your embrace. jay could see your features in her face as a shocked expression shows up when she gazes at the boy before him.

"you didn't tell me he is so handsome!" she says before grasping for his hand, making him let out a small smile.

"my name is jongseong, ma'am," he replies as your mother steps forward, eyes glimmering with joy before looking back at her child, who is just looking at her sheepishly.

"oh yes, i do know your name. believe me when i was surprised to see a beautifully aggressive motorcycle arriving in front of my house with the name of park jongseong attached to it." her giggles come out as he pinpoints another similairty your mom has with you before glancing towards you who has widen eyes. "no worries about it, jay. (y/n) did mention it in the letter she sent to me a month ago. nice to finally meet you, son," her voice calls to him before she helps with your and his travel bags. the motherly instinct kicking in. "well, we don't want mr. jeon to wait for too long. he still has a job to do," she states as you three walk toward the departure.

your voice clashes with your mom, how she says that she is preparing your favourite food of hers back at your childhood home—which he couldn't wait to taste. jay had heard many stories about geoje from you, from how you and your friends are riding around the scooter all around the island and visiting the towns on one side and the other side of the island. he wants to do it too, riding around in nature with his bike and you behind him showing the road.

"and how about the house?" she asks.

"we still have to go meet the realtor in two days to get the key and documents. jjongie here has to also adapt to his job at his new office because he will be working there next monday. and after we moved into that house, i had to find my own job. but at least, i am closer to you, mom." you said so eloquently, using the nickname you made for him after he had told you of his birth name.

turning your head, you find him smiling at you as he puts his arm around the back of your shoulders whilst you follow your mom, who is guiding you towards the sedan car with your neighbour waiting to drive the two of you back to your childhood home. in his mind, he can already imagine the trees covering the house and the roads. replacing the neon lights with streaking sunlight as he and you ride along the roads with his bike.

finally, for the first time in a long time, he lets the sun shine on him once again. the light embraces your looming selves—knowing that both of you aren't so lonely anymore before when you have each other.

taglist: @raeyunshm @leilasmom @hearts4yawnzzn @evidive @boba-beom @kwiwin @heesw1fe @aloverga @fancypeacepersona @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @beansworldsstuff @kimipxl @blurryriki @amazzwon @sunpov @ineedsomezzz @reallysmolrenjun @stealanity @deobitifull @gandaengene @kristynaaah @m1kkso @nyxtwixx @shinrjj @kookthief

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[btsreadss]

🫗 ¡! ❞ desire university ── .✦ 엔하이픈

desire university ⊹ where seduction is an art

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ ot7 x reader

summary ᝰ.ᐟ you enrolled in a party school, expecting nothing more than young, raging alcoholics and easy a's. what happens when seven very handsome students show you there’s more to it than that?

completion status ᝰ.ᐟ 0/12

lae speaks ᝰ.ᐟ i've had this little thought in mind for a hot minute... i've always wanted to write a series. masterlist layout is heavily inspired by heeluv. if you couldn't tell, i'm a fan. please consider supporting my fiction... it means a lot 𝜗𝜚 feel free to comment and send ideas in ask box... i have the rough layout done, but the story can always be shaped by the readers !

001 ⭑.ᐟ welcome to desire

002 ⭑.ᐟ charmer in 106

003 ⭑.ᐟ strings

004 ⭑.ᐟ camera obscura

005 ⭑.ᐟ icy

006 ⭑.ᐟ you're poison

007 ⭑.ᐟ sit tight

008 ⭑.ᐟ curriculum

009 ⭑.ᐟ the art of an affair

010 ⭑.ᐟ burning boundaries

011 ⭑.ᐟ i know him

012 ⭑.ᐟ what's next

[btsreadss]

nishimura riki (ni-ki) fic recs - pt. 1

main masterlist

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️

the weave to my love - ( @mygnolia ) fluff, classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers, spiderman!riki, class pres!reader. yes yes yes yes yes, this is what i´m talking about, I LOVE ITTTTT. the banter is deff my favorite thing, love the concept as well

sweater - ( @star-sim ) fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, non idol bf!riki, happy ending, he gets insecure bc he doesnt recgonaize the sweater you´re wearing,

boys night - ( @star-sim )fluff, crack, non idol!riki, where his six friends tries to help him text his school crush. I LOVE THISSS, such a fun read

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!riki

necklace - ( @rikiislvr ) fluff, idol!riki, i WISH this would happen to me but i´m too broke to be frequenting the same stores as him alsjfha

busy woman - ( @heedeungism ) fluff, angst, crack, lacrosse player!niki, rich kids au, highschool au, listen to me rn this is imPORTANT: this is one of THEE BEST NIKI FICS OUT THERE, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. i had to hide in every corner to read this at work bc 1) i couldn´t STOP reading it and 2) i couldn´t let anybody see me reading it bc it had me giggling like a dumb bitch. js go read it, pls and ty

that was too far - ( @semisasseater ) angst, fluff, bf!niki. ni-ki took his joke a bit too far. this would SO happend to him irl too i fear

aftercare and pillowtalk - ( @enhani-ki ) fluff, bf!niki, suggestive. i loved it sm :(

the grinch that stole my… pants? - ( @mandukkul ) fluff, crack. bf!ni-ki x fIreader, established relationship. nahh this is so cute, reader is valid af

quacked up - ( @veilstqr ) downbad!ni-ki, fluff and crack x ni-ki being whipped and the members not letting him breathe. jungwon is so wrong for that lmao, poor niki

i´ll never let that happen again - ( @semisasseater ) fluff, angst, protective bf!niki. this one´s for my delulu riki stans, ik you´ll like it :p

too much? - ( @flqwerjo ) smut, bf!riki, size kink (ik riki stans will eat this up), belly bulge (oh?). so,, now that he´s about to be 20 i might recc some smut fics, starting with this one bc it´s short and sweet,,kinda lkjfhkahd

on my mind - ( @lascvitae ) domestic fluff, simpppp downbad gamer bf!riki (LETSGOOO), THIS ONE RIGHT HERE,,, HAD ME GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET TWIRLING MY HAIR LIKE A DUMB BITCH, wow.

for his eyes only - ( @mrsjjongstby ) dark fluff(?, sad themes but not really angst, broke ballerina!reader, possessive obsessed millionare!riki (ARE YALL SEEING THIS??), human auction au. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND GET INTO THIS RIGHT NAAOOWWWWWW, THERE´S NO TIME TO WASTE!!!

kiss is better - ( @ninisdollie ) smut, bsf!riki learning how to give head, pussy drunk!riki. NAH THIS IS TOO GOOD TF, adofjlsdjfhlksjfhl the visual i got from this tho,, it´s crazy

[btsreadss]

Bad Romance

Desire:Unleash Jake pt Sunghoon pt

*pairirng: CEO dad vampire Park Jay x baby-sitter human Girl

*pairirng: grumpy x sunshine

*pairirng: Jay has only one wish: to be a good father and always be there for his daughter. Jenù was born from a meaningless one-night stand, and six months after her birth, a staff member at the Park Society found a baby girl with forest-green eyes and tiny red flecks, Jay’s same smile, and the same birthmark on his neck. She came with a note from the girl who couldn’t handle becoming a mother—especially not to a child who was half-human, half-vampire. Since that day, years passed. Jay had fired over twenty babysitters human, vampire, witch, and more—until one day, Sunghoon’s girlfriend told her best friend, who was struggling financially, that Jay was looking for a new babysitter. From that moment on, your life, as well as Jay’s and Jenù’s, changed forever. You are bold, dangerous, always sarcastic and you adore Jenù. But to Jay, a vampire over 300 years old, you're a dangerous distraction, especially when you're around his daughter. He's gruff and strict, only softening when he's with her, and in his eyes, you're just a reckless young woman… with blood that tempts him too much and a mouth that's far too bold.

*pairirng: At first Jay finds you extremely annoying and thinks that you are just an irresponsible girl but slowly she falls in love with you, you love teasing him, Jenù (Jay’s daughter) many times takes your side, warnings, overprotective dad, a lot of kisses, bites, Blood reference, masturbation (f) reverse cowgirl, (bath sex) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) Jay would like to put on family with you, jealousy, white lies, possession, Jay is a secular vampire, +18, pet names (little human,treasure,maiden)

19k (🍷)

Being a twenty-two-year-old girl in Seoul in 2025 was a form of legalized fraud. When you were little, they told you that you could become anything if you behaved well if you were pretty and kind to everyone, if you got good grades both in school and at university—but it was all bullshit. At twenty-three, you had become an exhausted student, an underpaid barista, and a living statistic in Gen Z burnout.

You went back and forth from your university like it was a punishment mission: classes at 9 a.m., then a huge gap until 5 p.m., and in between a barista shift at a coffee shop that looked cute only on Instagram, infested with screaming fans and idol-themed drinks that all tasted like sugar, bubblegum, and despair. The café you worked at was in central Seoul, where all the K-pop agency buildings were, where the idols trained, andrecorded music and so every day, you had to witness a swarm of crazed fans coming in to buy coffee or snap photos just because, once, their favorite idol had taken a picture and signed an album at your "K-pop themed" café.

The coffee you served was awful, the K-pop playlist? As repetitive as a nightmare on a loop. And don’t even get started on the pay. It was trash. Only your vanilla-whipped cappuccino gave you some reason to exist in the morning as you walked into the shop, still with toothpaste in your mouth and zombie's eyes after staying up the night before to study. And it was that very coffee that saved you today. Your best friend was already sitting, stunning as always, with two cups in her hands, and she handed you one with a smirk.

"You look like a zombie but an adorable one!" she said, ruffling your hair. "I am a zombie. A living, labor-exploited zombie. Used and abandoned by God." You yawned and dropped into the chair with the dignity of a wrinkled T-shirt. She giggled, and you envied her a little always so fresh, fragrant, happy, dating a vampire CEO who took her around the world like she was a model and not a former student from your department.

"At least you have a boyfriend who takes you to Paris and New York. I’ve got a professor who smells like ginseng and depression," you said, eyeing the latest designer bag she had resting on her thighs and shivering at the sight of the bite marks from Sunghoon’s fangs. She bit her lip, which was never a good sign—especially since you’d known her since high school.

"Don’t be mad, okay?" she said with that pouty little smile, and you immediately rolled your eyes. "If you say ‘don’t be mad,’ it means I will be mad," you said, closing your eyes and resting your head on the table. "I gave your resume to Jay Park." You groaned and curled further into yourself. That name gave you chills worse than the morning cold.

Jay: the other CEO and Sunghoon’s business partner, one of the richest and most famous company owners in all of Korea. The aristocratic, brooding vampire with that predatory gaze, zero smiles and zero emotions.

"You’re insane," you snapped, glaring at your best friend. "He’s looking for a babysitter, and you love kids," she said like it was a normal thing to hand over your CV to that man. "Jay Park isn’t looking for a babysitter. He’s trying to scare the human race into extinction. And I don’t like him." "Don’t be dramatic. He has a daughter, and she’d adore you. Jenù is a sweetheart," your best friend said, sipping her cappuccino. “His daughter, maybe. He’d throw me into the Han River after my first yawn."

She laughed and leaned closer to you. "He’d give you room, board, and a real salary. No more rent. We could use my old apartment as an office or study space, and you could finally stop serving frappés or coffees with idol faces on top." You shivered again because deep down, the idea was horrible but the offer was tempting. And… the only beautiful thing about Jay Park was his daughter: Jenù. You’d seen her twice, and both times, you saw a small, shining heart trapped in the darkness of a broken father.

The Park Society building rose in the heart of Seoul like an elegant shadow: a black glass tower carved into the sky, surrounded by soft lights and windows that looked more like a Gothic castle than the headquarters of a modern multinational. It was a place where power had a very specific scent: amber, smoke, and control. With trembling fingers, you adjusted your spaghetti-straight hair as you stared at your reflection in the mirrored elevator. Your makeup was simple, almost student-like—or maybe too simple, considering all the perfect vampire women who worked for him—but the black blazer over your white shirt gave you just enough of a grown-up look to distract from your smart jeans and the only pair of heels you could walk in. In your mind, heels were for graduations, parties, or… interviews with billionaire vampires. You hated them, even though you studied fashion and knew a heel could turn any basic outfit into something chic. But when the doors opened, the scene was surreal. Humans rushed back and forth, buried under phones, laptops, and documents. Vampires, flawless like living statues, walked silently among them as if the entire world were a board game and they were the main pieces. Everyone moved under one name: Jay Park. Jay wasn’t just one of the most powerful vampires in Korea—he was a living legend in both the human and supernatural worlds. For over three centuries, he’d been turning bankrupt companies into empires, and random numbers into frighteningly accurate predictions. And then there was his charm: deadly, cold, magnetic. Yet somehow, every woman dreamed of having him. He was intelligent, carried himself like an old-world gentleman, always had a sharp remark ready, and was the kind of man or rather, creature who could break you with a single look or word. But for the past few years, the world had discovered one detail that made him… just a little bit human. He had become a father.

The news had exploded in the tabloids like a bomb. A half-human, half-vampire child had been found on the doorstep of the Park Society building, wrapped in a violet blanket with only a letter in her tiny hands. From that day forward, Jay Park swore he would give everything for Jenù, his daughter and he did. With obsessive control. With fierceness. With protection. With love. Jenù was adorable. Barely four years old, but already had the face of a little star: huge wine-colored eyes, golden skin inherited from her father, and a smile that melted even immortal hearts. Under her father’s strict supervision, she’d already become a model for famous brands—probably earning more in a month than you did in six. And you? You were just standing there with a crumpled resume in your bag, half a hope, and a heartbeat pounding way too fast. Because you knew—everyone knew—that Jay only wanted the best for his daughter. And he had already fired twenty-nine babysitters. You, with your all-too-human clumsiness, your big mouth, and your incurable curiosity, silently prayed not to become number thirty. You sat down on the black leather chair in front of the marble desk of his secretary, a woman in her fifties with a tight bun and a powder-pink tailored suit. She didn’t even look up from her screen as she said, in a monotone voice,

-Mr. Park and Miss Jenù are expecting you. You may go in.- The phone rang at that exact moment, and while she answered with chilling professionalism, she gave you a small hand gesture, pointing toward the dark double doors behind her.

When you stood up, your heart was beating in your temples, and your fingers clutched the strap of your bag tightly. Your heels, though uncomfortable, suddenly felt like they were made to give you strength. The secretary led you to the door, and just before opening it, she whispered with a hint of a smile, -Good luck.-

Yeah… that was already a bad sign. If Jay Park’s secretary told you good luck, you knew you were in trouble. But honestly, what did you have to lose?

Nothing. Worst case? He wouldn’t like you, and you'd see him maybe twice a year—at your best friend’s birthday and Sunghoon’s. So, when the door opened, a scent enveloped you instantly: the sugary sweetness of fruit gummies mixed with something much older, deeper, warmer… like aged whiskey in oak barrels and ancient blood.

The office was huge, silent, bathed in soft light filtering through heavy curtains. The desk stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked all of Seoul, and behind it, staring at his monitor, was Jay Park. He was typing something on the keyboard with fast, precise hands and didn’t even lift his gaze when he spoke in a deep, neutral voice:

“Introduce yourself briefly. Tell me your work experience, and whether you’ve worked with children. Speak now or you can leave, I don’t like wasting time.”

Damn. Welcome to corporate hell, you thought. With an aristocratic vampire as your judge. But you didn’t look at him right away. Your eyes were immediately drawn to her. A little girl with long brown hair tied into two messy braids and large forest-green eyes speckled with reddish flecks, catching the light like gemstones a clear sign of mixed blood. She stared at you, serious and curious, with an unopened candy in her fingers.

You crouched slightly and smiled, offering her your hand, which looked so big next to hers.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

Jenù looked down at your hand, touched it with fingers slightly cold but strangely warm like a heart that hasn’t decided whether to beat or not and then, solemnly, said: 'Nice to meet you. I’m Jenù.'

She showed you her little teeth, a mix of human and vampire, and you giggled. “The candies you’re eating… those are my favorites too,” you whispered like it was a secret between partners in crime. “But when I was in elementary school, I ate so many I had to get four cavities filled because of all the sugar.”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed a clear, bright sound that cracked the tension in the room. 'Daddy only gives them to me when I do something good. Like… saving the world.' You leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees like you always did with kids. 'Oh? And what good thing did you do today to earn them?' Jenù wrinkled her nose and said proudly, 'I helped Uncle Hoon hide some documents before that annoying yelling lady found them.'

You barely held in a laugh, but a smile escaped your lips. 'Oh yeah, that counts as saving the world—at least a little.' Then she looked at you with a solemn expression and repeated, 'Work experience. Have you worked with children? Speak now, we don’t have much time.' You froze for a second, then burst into a light laugh.

“Wow. You’ll make a perfect heir to your dad’s company. You’ve learned well.” And only then did you lift your gaze toward him. Jay was watching you. Still, unmoving, mouth slightly open as if he hadn’t expected someone to walk into that room and ignore him completely. As if seeing his daughter laugh like that so naturally, was something he missed… or feared. But you didn’t look away. You didn’t bow, and you didn’t care about the social gap between you. You looked at him like a man who didn’t scare you yet, and that threw him off.

Jay clenched his jaw, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower.“You’re not like the others.” And you, with a boldness that surprised even yourself, replied, “Good thing. Otherwise, I’d already be out that door, right?” Jay clenched his jaw again as you extended your hand toward him. It was such a simple, common gesture, but the way you did it straightforward, without hesitation, with that annoyingly human and confident gaze caught him off guard for a moment.

Still, he took it. The contact was brief, but enough to confuse you.

What was that spark? Fear? Anxiety? Warmth? Desire? You couldn’t tell.

But he was… too much. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at Sunghoon’s birthday and my best friend T/l’s, who’s also his girlfriend.” You smiled, a little too brightly for his stiffness. “I’ve worked with kids a lot even back in high school. Right now, I work at an idol-themed coffee shop… which is babysitting, but with screaming thirteen-year-olds obsessed with photocards and smoothies with idols’ faces on them that cost almost as much as dinner.”

Jay looked up from your resume and fixed his sharp gaze on you.“You talk too much.” You laughed lightly, brushing some hair from your face.

“It’s one of my superpowers. It usually works well with kids… and customers who haven’t had their coffee yet.” From the desk, Jenù stood up on tiptoe, came closer, and studied you from head to toe. Then she grabbed your hand in her small fingers. 'Daddy, look!' she said, pointing at your decorated nail. 'She has a tiny teddy bear on her finger! I want one too!' Jay raised an eyebrow, and his gaze dropped to your hands.

“Not very professional, but… I suppose it’s better than the red witch claws the last babysitter had.” Jenù laughed out loud, and you leaned closer to her. “When you’re older, you’ll be able to have them too. But for now… maybe we can draw them on with markers. What do you think?”

'Really?!' she beamed, eyes sparkling.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Jay interrupted, his voice low and controlled, but irritated at seeing his daughter so enchanted by a woman who wasn’t his mother—or grandmother. You turned to him calmly and replied with a steady tone, “You don’t crush a child’s imagination, Mr. Park. You adapt it. And besides…” You turned back to Jenù with a warm smile. “It’s a small promise. And small promises are meant to be kept.”

Jay gave a low, almost inaudible growl—like an animal being disturbed. But Jenù ended the conversation with a decisive tone: 'I want her. Daddy, I like her as my babysitter.' She turned quickly to you and grabbed your hand again. 'Do you know how to do braids?' “I can do braids, ponytails, crown twists, even bows made of hair. Want me to show you?”

Jenù nodded eagerly. 'Daddy took two months to learn! He watched a bunch of TikToks and YouTube videos and kept messing up!' She covered her mouth with her little hands, and you did the same, laughing softly. “Two months? Really?” you asked curiously, glancing at the man in the suit sitting across from you. 'Swear!” she laughed. “The first time I looked like a cactus!'

Jay gave her a look, but it wasn’t stern. It was intriguing. Slightly amused by what was unfolding. And silently, he watched the scene with a strange gleam in his eyes. His daughter was at ease. Smiling. Bonding with someone in mere minutes—something that never happened. You gently tapped her nose.

“But hey, don’t tease your daddy too much. He did something really sweet for you. Not every dad would learn how to braid hair for their little girl.” Jenù lowered her gaze and nodded as if those words had landed right in her chest. Then she ran behind the desk, and Jay picked her up with almost shocking tenderness, lifting her in one fluid motion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered something in his ear.

He turned back to you. “You start this weekend,” he said, voice flat, but eyes sharp and fixed on you. “Don’t make me regret letting you near my daughter.”

You smiled. “I won’t, Mr. Park,” you said. “I get attached to children easily but only to them. Adults… are more complicated.” Jay raised an eyebrow. “Welcome to hell, then.”

Jay Park’s apartment looked like it had been pulled straight out of a luxury design magazine. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened and you muttered under your breath, "Why wasn’t I born into some rich, aristocratic family too…"

The enormous sofa in the center of the living room looked so soft it could probably swallow anyone who dared sit on it. In front of it, a massive 55-inch TV was embedded into a wall of matte black glass. On the low shelf below, a perfectly aligned series of framed photos caught your eye and instantly melted your heart.

Jay and Jenù smiling, goofy, captured in candid moments of quiet intimacy that no one would ever expect from a centuries-old vampire with perfect hair. There were photos of them at the pool, at the beach, dressed for the mountains with Jenù riding on Jay’s shoulders. All four birthday photos were there too every year—with him, his daughter, and the ever-present trio: Jake, Heeseung, and Sunghoon, Jay’s best friends and Jenù’s honorary uncles. From the open kitchen with its central white marble island, full of fancy utensils and high-end appliances. you could see Namsan Tower rising over the misty hills, bathed in the golden glow of sunset.

“It’s… breathtaking,” you whispered to yourself, more than to them, as your eyes wandered around the house. Jenù grabbed your hand and tugged you down the hallway.

'Come see my room! It’s the best room of all the rooms!' Her room looked like a private theme park. It had everything: miniature castles, stuffed animals, tables with puzzles, “educational” human toys… and some things that had to be vampire toys (like a doll that moved its eyes on its own and had tiny fangs—and stared at you for a bit too long for your comfort).

But it was her actual bedroom that took your breath away. A gothic Disney princess kingdom: blush pink and black velvet everywhere, a canopy bed with hidden lights, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hand-embroidered pillows, and closets full of dreamy little dresses. You wanted to be a kid again just for one night to sleep there and play with all the toys you used to dream about having.

'And… that’s Daddy’s room,' she said, pointing to a sleek dark door. 'You can only use it if there’s an emergency,' she added, extremely serious.

Behind her, Jay appeared like an elegant shadow, leaning against the doorframe.

Rule number one: no entering my room. Ever. Unless it’s a real emergency.”

His eyes scanned you from head to toe. “And by ‘emergency,’ I don’t mean ‘I need the Wi-Fi password’ or ‘where are the chips.’”

You raised an eyebrow and muttered dramatically,

“I have no intention of entering the wolf’s den… oh, wait, the wrong creature. You’re a vampire.” You bit your lip, and Jay shook his head slowly while Jenù giggled, covering her mouth. Jay shot you a sharp, slightly intrigued look. He then led you to what would be your room on the nights you stayed over. It was simple but elegant a queen bed, a reading nook, a private bathroom, and… a breathtaking view of the Han River.

You walked over to the little table by the window and noticed a neatly printed sheet of paper. There were two columns, one titled "Human Rules", the other "Vampiric Rules", and above them, bold text read:

HOUSE RULES – FOR EVERYONE’S SURVIVAL

(Edited 7 times, updated after the Exploding Plush Incident)

Human Section

No candy after 7:00 p.m. (Unless it’s Saturday and Jenù has saved the world.)

No watching TV shows with a yellow or red warning icon.

Never leave Jenù alone in the bathroom. NEVER. You must stay with her at all times.

Do not wake up Daddy if he’s resting after a “red” meeting.

No incense or garlic in the kitchen. (Seriously.)

Vampire Section

If you hear whispers or strange noises at night, ignore them. It’s probably the neighbor. Or… maybe not.

If Jenù says there’s a shadow under the bed, it’s probably just her imagination—but check anyway. Safety comes first.

Do not open the small fridge on the left. You’ll only open it if I tell you to because it contains blood vials from the Blood Bank—the specific type Jenù drinks.

If I say “disappear,” then disappear. But stay within three meters of Jenù.

If you need to call me about a problem… count to 3. Then call. (Doesn’t apply to real emergencies: fire, blood, accidents.)

You burst out laughing.

“This is the most dramatic list of rules I’ve ever read. I’m 22, not 3—I can handle myself,” you said as you scanned the quirky guidelines. Jay shot you a death glare. “They’re not funny. Those rules could literally save your life.” “Wow, okay, Dracula 2.0, but seriously live a little. I’m not worried, and more importantly, Jenù will be fine with me.” He crossed his arms, voice dropping lower.

“Even if you’re the best friend of Sunghoon’s girlfriend, that doesn’t mean I trust you. Not yet and maybe never. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know if you’re good for my daughter, and I’m not about to find out the hard way. So follow those rules, and we’ll get along.” Your smile faltered for just a second before you lifted your chin and replied,

“Then watch me, Mr. Park. It doesn’t take much for me to prove I’m capable of what I do and I do know how to take care of a four-year-old. Maybe you’re the one keeping her too tightly bound to rules that are… a little questionable.”

For a moment, silence. Only the muffled sound of Jenù giggling in the other room. Then he turned away. “Dinner’s at seven. And don’t you ever presume to tell me what’s right or wrong for my daughter again.” 

It had been almost two weeks. Two weeks in which, to your surprise, you were still there. Still in Jay Park’s house, still “working” for him—though by now, it felt less like a job and more like a secret, comforting routine you’d grown to love. Jenù had slipped under your skin with the same ease she used to grab your hand when crossing the street or when telling you her wild dreams full of dancing bats and floating castles.

Every day, after your university classes, you pick her up from ballet or theater. Her cheeks always flushed, her bun always undone—and the moment she saw you, she’d run into your arms with the biggest smile and two tiny teeth… a little sharper than the day before. And she’d look at you like you were more than a babysitter, something she secretly wished all her friends had too. One evening, in the bathtub, while she played with bubbles, she nearly gave you a heart attack by flashing her canines proudly:

'Look, they’re coming in! Daddy says it’ll be my ‘change’ soon… Are you scared?' You’d fake-faint in fear at her little growl and she’d burst into laughter, sending water flying everywhere. Colorful bubbles filled the bathroom, and every day the bath bombs smelled like something sweet or floral. It had become your favorite part of the day—watching her relax and play with vampire-shaped toys, rubber duckies with fangs, or little fish that sprayed water. You often made a mess together in the kitchen, and she’d solemnly swear:

'I won’t tell Dad, I promise. Not even under hypnosis.' She’d pinky swear it, and every weekend you baked something: chocolate chip cookies, banana bread, muffins… One time you even decorated them with bright red sugar “fake blood.” When Jay got home and saw them, he stood in front of you, arms crossed, voice low and sharp:

“You just put fake blood on pastries for my daughter to eat. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is...”

He didn’t get to finish. You burst out laughing right in the face of his CEO-dad-vampire attitude, and something in him softened for the first time since you’d met. He huffed… then actually smiled. A real smile with fangs on full display: long, slender, lethal… and disturbingly attractive to your messed-up mind that kept whispering you should stay away from him.

That evening, after washing dishes with Jenù—covered in flour and syrup, with a bat-shaped crêpe you named “Bat-crepe”—you both snuggled under a pink-and-black blanket on the couch.

“Have you ever watched Monster High?” you asked. She gave you a suspicious look, raising one eyebrow just like her father.

'Daddy doesn’t let me watch horror stuff.' “It’s not horror, I swear! They’re girls… monstrously fashionable. One’s Dracula’s daughter, one’s a mummy, another’s like… a super-stylish werewolf. And they all go to a school for magical creatures. My favorite’s Draculaura—I wonder who yours will be.”

Jenù was quiet for a moment. Then she said, 'If you say it’s not scary… I trust you.' You pulled up YouTube, found the first episode, and as the bright, catchy theme song started, Jenù began bouncing her shoulders.

'I like the music!' she said, waving her arms, and when Draculaura, Cleo de Nile, Frankie Stein, Lagoona Blue, and Clawdeen Wolf appeared on screen, she pointed. 'Her! The one with the fangs! She’s so pretty!'

“That’s Draculaura! That’s exactly her!” you nodded. “She’s like 1600 years old, totally vegan, and always has trouble with her wings—but she’s adorable.” Jenù slowly nestled against you. It was the first time she did it without thinking, without saying anything. She gave you her tiny, warm hand, and in a soft voice while watching the show, she whispered:

'I wish I could go to a fashion monster school too.' You gently stroked her forehead. “You already do, sweetheart. You’re a stylish little monster.” She smiled, and you swore right then and there you never wanted to move from that moment again.

The sharp sound of the door opening broke the spell on the couch. You and Jenù turned your heads in perfect sync, like a well-rehearsed choreography. Confident footsteps echoed on the polished parquet, followed by the soft creak of shoes being taken off and set neatly by the entrance.

Jay was home.

You watched him walk into the living room: hair tousled from the wind, jacket slung over his shoulder, tie slipping through his fingers. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt and yes, you lingered there a second too long. His skin was warm-toned, golden-amber in color, so unlike Sunghoon’s pale, moonlit coolness. Sunghoon looked sculpted from Nordic marble.

But Jay… Jay was like liquid honey over dark stone. With every inch of skin revealed, your cheeks burned hotter. You couldn't stop staring as he loosened his custom-tailored suit and then, his eyes locked with yours.

He froze. Time seemed to hang off his frame. His eyes narrowed, sharp—like he was reading you like he knew exactly what was running through your head. His jaw tightened just slightly.

Shit. You felt it. Knew it, without a word. He didn’t like that look in your eyes, too curious, too bold but… he didn’t look away either. Luckily, Jenù broke the tension, bounding toward him with bubbling excitement.

“Appa! We’re watching Monster High! There’s Draculaura! She has teeth like mine!” Jay crouched slightly to catch her as she launched into his arms. He shot you a look sharp enough to cut through bone. You braced for his usual complaints.

“Monster High?” he asked, turning slowly toward you. “I told you I don’t want her watching scary stuff. She’s too young.” You raised your hands in mock surrender, flashing a diplomatic smile. “Jay, come on. The scariest thing in this show is how Ghoulia talks. Maybe Cleo’s shrieking fits. But monsters? They’re fashion bloggers.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like you putting ideas in her head. Influences form now. Today it’s Draculaura, and tomorrow she’s wearing black capes and bat-winged platforms.”

You bit your tongue to avoid pointing out those exact shoes were already part of two Korean brands’ fall/winter collections but before the argument could escalate, Jenù took control.

“Appa, why don’t we all watch it together? Just one episode. Then you’ll see if it’s okay.” Jay kissed her forehead, sighed, and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go change first. Ten minutes.” He gave you one last glance slow, calculated. A look like velvet… with blades sewn in.

A mix of unspoken disapproval… and something else. You looked away, pulse a little shaky. You squeezed Jenù’s hand, reminding yourself where you stood but when the theme song kicked back in and the little girl began to dance, for one perfect moment, you forgot everything.

Everything… except her little fanged smile and maybe, just a little, that golden vampire who would be back in ten minutes. When Jay returned to the living room, he paused in the doorway. The scene was almost surreal.

You and Jenù were curled up together, eyes glued to the screen, giggling at an absurd scene where Cleo de Nile ranted about how everyone dressed at school and how she was the only one with real taste. Jenù laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth with her hand. Then she looked at her father, eyes shining:

“Appaaaa, this cartoon is so good! I wanna go to a school like Monster High!” Jay raised an eyebrow, dropped his tie on the sideboard, and gave her a strange little smile tender and oddly conspiratorial.

“For you, my little one… I might just build you one.” He brushed her hair back, and your heart pinched for a second. The deep voice, the strict face… and then that look, that melted only for her. Jay came over and sat on the couch next to Jenù. But she turned to him with a firm look: “No! I wanna sit here!” and before he could respond, she crawled right into his lap, curled into his chest, burying her little head into the crook of his neck.

Cleo screamed again onscreen. Jenù giggled. Jay cracked a joke: “She sounds just like you when you can’t find your pink headband.”Jenù smacked his chest with her hand: “Appa! Not true!” “Alright, Miss Fashion—who’s your favorite?” you asked Jenù with a grin.“The same as yours! Draculalla!” she shouted, mispronouncing it adorably.

“Draculaura,” you corrected, giggling.

“Yes, her! She’s pink and black and makes braids better than Appa!” You scooted closer—partly because Jenù reached out her hand to pull you in. Your knees brushed Jay’s. You felt… warmth. He gave you a glance, then murmured with that deep voice:

“Careful… You’re starting to look like part of the monster family. And no one gets out of that." “Wow. Romantic threats, Jay. Very on-brand,” you muttered, eyes rolling playfully. “Watch the sass… or I’ll put you in time-out with Cleo,” he said, smirking faintly.

Jenù quickly cut in: “Appa, be nice! I like her. I love her.” Jay raised an eyebrow. “And what have I taught you about saying that, Jenù?”

She straightened her back, proud as ever: “That you only say ‘I love you’ if you  trust someone.” “And you’ve known her barely a month…” he started.

But Jenù shut him down with that fearless honesty only children have: “But I do trust her. A lot. And I like her so much.” She took your hand in hers, small and warm. You squeezed it back, your heart melting. Jay watched. Something inside him broke or maybe healed. Something he didn’t quite recognize: the warmth of your presence, the blind trust his daughter gave you, your hands always linked—ready to go anywhere and something shifted inside him. A knot. A flicker a need not just physical (though that was there too—boiling under the skin every time he looked at you)

No. This was something deeper. More dangerous than hunger. More terrifying than blood.

What if she belonged here?

He barely had time to process the thought before the three of you burst into laughter—Ghoulia was babbling nonsense in zombie-speak on the screen. The room felt alive and you were there, part of it all. Because you brought light and joy into a house that had been drowning in routine.

You had just tucked Jenù into bed and now stood outside Jay’s study, nervously biting your nails. Tomorrow, near the university campus, there was going to be a party for final-year students—and you needed to go.

It had been months since you spent a weekend with people your age instead of watching cartoons and drawing bat wings. You loved Jenù and your job, but you missed the wild, carefree side of yourself. So, tonight... you were going to tell a tiny white lie to your boss. And honestly? You hated lying—especially to him, the vampire with a dangerously attractive pair of fangs that could rip through you at any moment if you pissed him off.

You took a deep breath and knocked, heart hammering in your chest.Jay was seated at his desk, bathed in the amber glow of a desk lamp. The light carved out every line of his sculpted features. His shirt was undone halfway, revealing golden, defined muscles and a faint blue vein tracing along his neck. In one hand, he held a blood pouch, still half-full. In the other, he scrolled through corporate reports on a curved screen.

He didn’t even look up.

“Come in.” His voice was rough, slightly annoyed, but you stepped in anyway, clinging to the hope that your little lie might work. He looked infuriatingly indifferent, flawless in his world of silence, power, and spreadsheets. And yet… you couldn't help but look at him.

You caught yourself thinking—with a pout that betrayed a hopeless crush—“If he wasn’t Jenù’s dad…”

“What do you want?” he asked, eyes still locked on the screen. You took one step closer and tried your best innocent and slightly dramatic voice.

“Tomorrow… I won’t be able to take care of Jenù.” At that, Jay finally looked up.

“Why?” His tone was cold, direct almost too sharp for a man who had just been drinking blood. You hesitated, you could still bolt. You could say something stupid and backpedal but your best friend—who also happened to be Sunghoon’s girlfriend had warned you:

"Vampires detect lies. They hear your blood shift, your heartbeat, your heat. Be careful. Fake it well, and maybe he’ll say yes."

You decided to risk it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “I have an extra class tomorrow night. Advanced coding. I need to work on some content for my final project. Graduation’s close and I… really want to do well.” Jay stared at you and then silence fell heavy silence. You could hear your heartbeat in your temples. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“…Fine.” Your eyes widened. “Wait—seriously? Like… that’s it?” A genuine smile broke across your face. Jay leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His shirt gaped a little more, exposing more of that honey-gold skin, and your eyes automatically drifted to it.

“Yes. You’re good with Jenù. I never said otherwise. And if this class is important, I won’t stop you. Your grades speak for themselves.” “Wow. No CIA interrogation this time?” you asked, half-laughing. Jay glanced at the blood pouch in his hand and muttered, “You might wanna go before I change my mind.”

You dipped your head slightly partly in gratitude, partly to hide the color rising in your cheeks. It was the first time you felt… like a real accomplice.

“Thank you. Really. I promise this won’t become a habit. Skipping weekends, I mean.” Jay’s eyes lingered on you a second too long. Then he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and your gaze followed.

Your stomach clenched, and you felt the urge—the craving—to press your lips to his and just taste what those sharp, beautiful lips felt like.

“Don’t,” Jay said softly. “Because it’s not just my daughter who trusts you anymore.”

For a moment, something cracked inside your chest. It was the first time Jay had acknowledged anything beyond duty. The first time you weren’t just the babysitter and you were lying to him. You bowed slightly, instinctively. But it was more than that, it was a mask to hide your guilt.

Jay frowned. “What are you doing?” “Thank you. Politely. Not used to that in your world of shadows and fangs?” You tilted your head with a half-smile and as you turned to leave the study, you could feel his eyes still burning into your back.

And just before you stepped out… You thought (just maybe) you saw him smile but maybe…It was just the light.

Music thumped from the poolside speakers, neon lights rippled across the water, and your head swayed gently, your body moving with the beat. The party was buzzing with final-year students desperate to cut loose before diving back into exams and thesis deadlines—and you were one of them.

You were dressed lightly....okay, not even gonna pretend. You wore a top that barely covered your chest, hugging your curves like a second skin, a low-rise skirt that showed off the glint of your belly piercing, and your sun-kissed skin shimmered under the lights. Cowboy boots make your legs look longer, sharper, and stronger. You smelled like summer and something exotic, your favorite perfume.

You laughed with your best friend as if life were easy. Like responsibility could wait one more night. You were 23, and this was your moment. If not now—when? and then, you felt it. A presence behind you. A hand at your waist. A tall guy with light eyes and a rehearsed smile leaned down—just enough to speak close to your ear over the music.

-Easily the most beautiful girl I’ve seen tonight... maybe the whole semester,- he said, voice smooth, practiced. You turned with a half-ironic smile. “Wow. That your go-to line, or do you save it for special occasions?”

He chuckled. You didn’t but... you didn’t step away either. Your body was warm, your mind slightly hazy, and God...it had been months since anyone made you feel wanted. Not that you were interested. Your thoughts were already somewhere else.

Tall. Golden skin. Half-unbuttoned shirts. A daughter who felt more like your little sister. Jay Park.

You cursed yourself silently, there was a cute, young, available guy wanting to have fun, like most people your age and all you could think about was him.

That grumpy, overprotective vampire of a man who only thought about work and his daughter, and never himself. You remembered those looks, the ones he thought you didn’t catch.

When you bent over to pick up a toy or laughed too loud with Jenù, the way his eyes burned through you, then quickly turned away. You wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him. To feel him over you—those large, strong hands gripping your hips.

That rough voice telling you he wanted only you, to learn how he liked it, and what made him lose control. What it felt like to be taken by him slow and then ruthless until you forgot where the babysitter ended, and the woman began.

God, you needed to have sex...but not with this guy. You stepped back, scanning for your best friend, catching her on the far side of the party and chatting with a group of friends. You tried to move toward her, but the guy behind you was a little too persistent.

“I’m not looking for attention tonight,” you told the guy in front of you. -Are you sure?”- he replied with a sly smirk. -Your friend’s already taken. But you… you don’t have a mark. I can see it. Smell it.-

You froze. You thought he was joking until you looked closer. The fangs were real. The glint in his eyes was too red to be normal. Panic rose like acid in your throat.

A rogue vampire. You stumbled back, heart pounding, then bolted for the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and locked it. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone.

No answer from your best friend. Your cousin? Offline. The rest of your friends? Miles away and none of them were fucking vampires. You stared at the emergency contact you swore you’d never use...Jay’s number. Meant for Jenù’s emergencies, not yours. Especially not after lying to him about tonight.

You hit the dial with shaking fingers: One ring. Two. Three-

“What is it, Y/n? Done with studying already? Missing Jenù too much?” His voice was dry, sarcastic, and cold. “Jay…” Your voice cracked as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Jay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you, I...there’s a vampire. Outside the bathroom, he followed me, he knows I’m unmarked and I can’t find M/t and...” Your voice broke, the fear was raw now and our heart thundered.

Then....silence. When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed deeper, calmer, almost... human.

“Hey. Breathe. Where are you? Send me your location. I’m on my way. Are you alone?” You couldn’t tell if he was angry or terrified but you whispered, “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to lie. I’m M/t’s best friend. Sunghoon’s girlfriend. I...” “It doesn’t matter right now,” he cut you off. “Just listen to me: don’t open that door. Lock everything. Be silent. Try to text M/t. If you see anyone you know at the party, message them.” You nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. And in your chest, beneath the fear… there was something else.

Something twisted and dangerous a part of you wanted to see him. To hear his voice in person, to feel his arms around you, telling you it was okay. Maybe even...just maybe, he’d look at you and admit he couldn’t stop thinking about you. That he didn’t just want you as Jenù’s babysitter. That he wanted you underneath him, whispering his name as he finally gave in to the pull you both felt. But no, that was just your broken little fantasy. The one that lived in the dark, when your fingers weren’t enough anymore. Right now, you were just a terrified girl locked in a bathroom and outside… was a vampire who wanted your blood and maybe your body.

And Jay was coming but you didn’t know if you were trembling from fear…or from the guilt of lying to him.

The music still pounded through the walls, muffled, but the sound that froze your blood was something else. Two sharp knocks at the door and you thought the worst, until you heard his voice, the one you’d come to know all too well these past months, the one that sent shivers down your spine.

“Open the door. I'm Jay. Now.” Your heart shot to your throat. That voice was unmistakable, deep, and pissed. You knew he’d make you pay for this.

When you opened the door, your best friend was there, eyes down, shoulders hunched like a kid being scolded. Jay must’ve already gotten to her. Behind her, Jay himself. Tall, in an all-black suit, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled by the wind and stress, and he looked pissed, radiating fury. But the second his eyes landed on you, they softened just enough to make you crumble.

“I’m sorry,” your best friend whispered so low it barely existed. Jay scanned you from head to toe, and you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in a trembling hug. “Thank you… really. Thank you for coming.” He stiffened for a second, then sighed, slowly resting his big hands on your back, pulling you closer, he didn’t want to be soft with you, he didn’t but it was too late.

“It’s over. You’re safe,” he said, low and close, holding you. After dropping off your best friend and making her swear not to tell Sunghoon, Jay warned her with eerie calm:

“Sunghoon will know the second he’s back. He’ll smell the alcohol, the other humans or vampires. Go shower before he gets home, and I’ll lie for you. I’ll say you went for drinks in Seoul with Y/n if he pushes. But from now on...you owe me.”

She nodded, biting her lip. Before leaving, she kissed your cheek and whispered, “Text me when you get home.”

When the car started moving again, Jay was silent...too silent and his eyes were fixed on the road, hands clenched on the wheel. You nervously bit your nail.

“I’m sorry…” you said, turning toward him, and wrapping your arms around your bare legs. “Shut up,” he said, eyes still forward, jaw tight. “I didn’t mean to… I mean were you sleeping?” you asked, your voice cracking, thinking this was it. He’d fire you. Erase you from his and Jenù’s life. All your fault. “I was trying to get my daughter to sleep. You know, the little girl you told you had to study for your thesis and rest. And I get it—that watching a kid every weekend is exhausting and you deserve to live your life. But you could’ve told me. I would've let you go. Instead, while she was showing me your drawings and asking where you were, you were in front of a mirror putting on makeup to go dance with some hormone-driven idiot or worse, into a fucking party with rogue vampires.”

You bit your lip, crossed your bare legs, and caught him glancing at your thigh a second too long. His jaw clenched. Finally, he turned toward you.

“So… how was your ‘computer science class’? The music sounded very… academic.” “Well, yeah… the DJ had a PhD in bass drops,” you muttered, trying to break the tension. He clenched his jaw again, then slowed the car and looked at you. His eyes had darkened—nearly black, flecked with red. His fangs were slightly visible.

One part of you panicked. The other… got turned on. “I left my daughter alone at night to come pick up a little girl who, one, lied to her employer. Two, lied to an innocent child. And three thought it was a great idea to go to a party full of drunk idiots and rogue vampires dressed like… a slut.”

His words hit you like hot blades. But the alcohol gave you courage—or recklessness. “You’re not my father, Jay. I have every right to live my life like any girl in her last year of university. I work too much, I earn too little, and sometimes I just want to forget that my life is a mess—with a vampire dad boss who looks at me like I’m a ticking time bomb and is always grumpy and full of himself!”

Jay laughed. A short, bitter, deep laugh that made your skin crawl. “No. I’m not your father who’s always grumpy with you, but I am the father of a little girl who sees you as home. And if you get lost, if you fall apart… she’s the one who pays the price. Got it? She loves you. And I’ve never seen her grow attached to anyone ‘outside’ our circle like she did with you—not Jake, not Sunghoon, not even Heeseung.”

Silence fell again in the car and you bit at your nail. Your cheeks were burning—and so was your chest. You looked at him, hands tight on the wheel, and without thinking, the words slipped out like sweet venom.

“Maybe that’s exactly what you want, Jay. What you keep trying to ignore something new. Something that makes you feel alive again. You want me to crash, to fall—so you can stop feeling guilty about wanting to love again.”He froze at your words. His knuckles turned white on the wheel and his gaze turned dark, hungry. He spoke through clenched teeth, low and hoarse like a strangled growl.

“You drive me insane. So shut up until we get home. ”You closed your eyes and curled into the seat, turning to face away from him.

Jay pulled into the underground garage with a sharp brake. He broke the silence with a heavy sigh, then turned to you and found you asleep. Curled up like it was something you did often. Your bare legs tucked to one side, head tilted, breath slow and uneven, smudged makeup, lips slightly parted. You looked innocent… and infuriatingly tempting even in your sleep.

“Why the fuck are you always a problem… even when you’re not awake?” he muttered through clenched teeth. He ran his hands through his hair like he could rip you out of his mind. He couldn’t leave you like that, not in that microscopic skirt that wasn’t a skirt, not with that scent on your skin that still made his blood burn. He opened your door with a snap, stared at you one more time thinking how beautiful and dangerous you were to his mental state, and then lifted your bridal style like you were his.

Your body molded to his naturally, your face nestled into his neck, fingers grazing his shirt. You curled into him and that cold heart of his sluggish and half-dead for years, started beating louder. He cursed under his breath. You were the only one who made him feel like a teenager again.

He rode up the elevator with you, the hum of the motor the only sound in the metal cage. He looked down at you nestled against his chest like you were made to fit there and for the first time, he thought: he should let you go but he wasn’t capable of it.

“Tomorrow I’ll tear you apart… I swear I’ll break you with words and then piece you back together just to do it again,” he murmured under his breath. He walked into the apartment without a sound, straight into his bedroom not yours and even he didn’t know why. Maybe he just wanted to wake up and see you there. Maybe he just wanted to remember you were real. And maybe… tomorrow morning you’d  see the vampire side of him. He laid you down on the bed like you’d always belonged there. Your legs slightly parted, skirt ridden up so far he caught a glimpse of lace. One breath more, and he’d see the thing that had haunted his nights for weeks.

He hated you. You were supposed to be just Jenù’s babysitter not a walking temptation calling his name every damn day. He cursed softly, his voice rough and low. He wanted to see you like that every day—naked, moaning his name, tied to his bed, tears of pleasure in your eyes.

“So that’s how you like to be...half-naked in public like no one can see you. Like you don’t know you’re already mine…” he whispered, voice gravelly. He turned around, grabbed one of his oversized vintage band shirts, and dressed you with slow, precise movements, almost reverent. His fingers brushed your too-warm skin, too alive for someone like him. He lifted you gently and slid off your top and that ridiculous excuse of a skirt. He tried not to look because deep down he was still a gentleman but his jaw was tight.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Not enough. Not when you were nearly naked in his bed. He pulled the shirt over your head and laid you back. It drowned you and yet, it suited you more than that skimpy outfit he’d hated the second he saw it.

He stepped into Jenù’s room. She was asleep, cuddling the teddy bear you’d gifted her, her breathing calm. He knelt beside her, fixed a strand of hair and kissed her forehead softly. Guilt hit him hard. Because you weren’t just a crush, a temptation. You were dangerous for him, for Jenù, and for the life he’d spent years carefully building. He returned to his room. You were still there. In his bed. In his shirt. In his life. Legs half-covered, neck exposed—that damned neck he wanted to bury his face in, kiss, bite, mark. He wanted to sink his fangs into your skin and feel you scream from pleasure, from need. Taste you. You’d haunted his every thought since the day he first saw you, at Sunghoon’s birthday party.

“You’re ruining me…” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, exhausted. Then he climbed in beside you, turning his back so he wouldn’t touch you because if he did, he wouldn’t stop. Just as he was about to turn off the light, you whispered his name softly, like a plea from a dream. “Jay…” He closed his eyes tightly, turned, gently brushed a strand of hair from your face with trembling fingers, then turned off the light and stayed there, facing you, watching you sleep. Desiring you. Hating himself. Knowing deep down that tomorrow, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

Your head throbbed, not painfully, but with that thick, fuzzy sensation that made you curse the loud music and the neon drinks from the night before. Your eyes were still closed, skin flushed, but there was something against you—solid, muscular, slightly cool… but too alive. Holding you tight.

Oh no. Jay.

As pieces of the night fell back into place like dirty puzzle pieces stained with adrenaline and shame, you remembered it all: - how he looked at you when he found you - how he growled your name carrying you away and most of all, how you yelled he wasn’t your father, with shaking knees and burning cheeks while his eyes looked starved.

You felt nauseous not from the alcohol, but from the humiliation. He would fire you. He’d scream. He’d hate you. You slid your arm off his torso and buried your face in your hands, pouting. “Run, Y/n, before he wakes up. Just go. Get out before he opens his eyes and destroys you.” Quietly, you began to slip from the sheets. One arm held you tightly, his bare bicep wrapped around your waist like silk and fire. His face… was relaxed.eyes closed, lashes long, lips slightly parted in an unconscious pout. “If he weren’t a CEO with blood-stained hands and centuries of pain, he could be a model,” you thought, biting your lip at how unfairly beautiful he looked even asleep. Carefully, you freed yourself. His arm fell away, and you exhaled like a secret agent dodging a trap, you placed one foot on the ground no sound a second of peace.

Maybe…you made it but then.... “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, raspy from the night, laced with dangerous promises. You shut your eyes and whispered, “Shit.”

Hand to your forehead, you turned to face him. Jay was awake, dark eyes locked on you like blades. His hair was messy, yet he looked as perfect as ever. He lifted slightly from the mattress. “I… I was just…” You didn’t finish. His cold, firm hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back down onto the mattress. He hovered over you, one knee on the bed, eyes burning into you from above. Your gaze dropped, cheeks blazing from the heat of his not-quite-human warmth. “Sorry,” you whispered. He laughed quietly—low, poisonous.

“You're sorry?” he hissed. “Sweetheart, you can shove that where the sun doesn’t shine. Maybe it’ll help you think clearer next time.” His hands clutched your wrists tighter. You laughed nervously, trying to deflect, “Didn’t think you’d be into dirty talk at eight in the morning. Figured your priorities were more… milk temp for your kid or which headband matches the bows today.” “I don’t like girls who lie. Especially not to me, or my daughter.” His hand gripped your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His touch was gentle, but the grip was firm, anchoring. “You didn’t just put yourself at risk. You broke the trust of a little girl who says your name every night, who looks for you in her dreams, who prefers you over everyone except me. If something happened to you, she would’ve broken. And I would’ve broken with her.” You swallowed hard, cheeks burning. But he wasn’t done. “I’m not your father but under this roof, I decide what you do. You’re my responsibility. Mine. Got it?” You rolled your eyes. “And what if I don’t want to be yours?” you challenged. “Then get out of this bed. But if you stay… accept that you’re in my world now. And sweetheart, I don’t play fair. Especially not with troublemakers like you.”

You didn’t want to leave. You pulled him closer. “God… you sound like you crawled out of a teen vampire drama,” you teased. “Half Dracula, half psycho. Maybe a little pathetic too.” He raised a brow, leaned in, eyes sharp slits. “Careful. Poorly written vampires don’t end well.” “Oh no,” you mocked, “will you make me vanish or glare at me with that immortal CEO pout? Maybe scold me for corrupting your daughter with my scandalous human morals?” Your smirk faded when he bared sharp canines. Real. Dangerous. Irresistible. You reached out, voice low. “Can I?” He didn’t move. You touched the tip of a fang. Sharp as a blade. He growled low, animalistic. “Going for a vampire of the year?” you whispered. “Got the deluxe kit or just the base model with sexy teeth and moody angst?” That did it. His eyes flared. “Little girl…” he growled. He grabbed your face and crushed his lips to yours. It wasn’t tender. It was hunger, anger, and raw need. You’d teased him from day one, and he had tried to resist, but now he couldn’t. At first, you froze. Then you melted into him. His kiss was fire and desperation. You kissed back with trembling hands tangling in his messy black hair. Your tongues danced and challenged. “Christ…” he muttered as you tugged his hair. “You’re a torment.” “I know…” you whispered.

You dared explore his mouth, brushing your tongue along a fang. He growled and gripped your waist hard. His cold hand slid against your hot skin, thumb drawing circles, making you moan. Each kiss hit like a blow, and breaths came shorter. It was a storm. “I can’t stand you…” he murmured against your lips. His hands held you like you were slipping away like he’d already lost too much. You pressed into him, feeling exactly how much you affected him. “Too bad. You’re kinda cute when you’re not being a grumpy CEO dad.” His gaze darkened. “Don’t push me.” He kissed your jaw, voice shaking you. He kissed down your neck, canines brushing skin that smelled like mango and coconut. He wanted to bite, to sink those fangs in, but instead, he kissed, licked, sucked, marking you with heat and possession. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he whispered. “Yes. And I’m not stopping,” you rasped. He chuckled darkly. “You’re trouble, Y/n.” Your fingers found his hair, pulling. He smiled against your skin, hearing how much you wanted him. “Remember…” he murmured, breath ghosting over you, “…when you called me crying, said a vampire tried to bite you because 'you hadn’t been claimed'?” Your heart stopped, then raced. You opened your mouth, stammering, but his kisses silenced you. “Don’t you think,” he said, lips at your ear, “…if anyone had to do it… it should’ve been me?” Your body shook. You moaned, feeling his dominance, his heat, his hunger.

You lifted a leg, pressing it to his side. He growled. “You thought you could just put on that tiny skirt, down some drinks, and I’d stay home while you paraded around like temptation incarnate?” “I just… I wanted to…” “You wanted attention,” he snapped. “But mine comes with a price.” His eyes were red now. Aroused. Hungry. “I’ve wanted your blood since the first time you walked into my office.” Eyes wide, you clung to him. “Please… don’t hurt me.” His smile turned wolfish. He grabbed your chin. “If you want to be treated like a princess, you’ve got the wrong immortal. I’m not here to save you, sweetheart. I’m the one you should run from.” Then his fangs sank into your skin. Pain exploded, sharp and hot. You screamed, but his hand clamped over your mouth. His bite was more than hunger. It was possession. Desire. A fire ran through you. Your breath came in pants, trembling, moaning under his mouth. You should’ve been afraid. But it wasn’t fear. It was want. Shameful, burning want. He drank deeply, slowly, rhythmically. Your name was a whisper on your tongue. Your body collapsed against his. “J… Jay…” you whimpered. He kept drinking, precise, controlled. Then, finally, he pulled away. His lips were crimson, tongue licking your wound clean. “You are…” he breathed, “…the most dangerous thing to ever happen to me. And now that I’ve tasted you…” He cupped your face gently, reverently. “…I’m never letting you go. Not even if you beg.”

It had been a week since he kissed you since he made you feel alive and maybe even important to him. A week since his fangs had pierced your skin, since his breath had turned molten and his voice had scratched your soul. And since then… silence. Jay had gone back to being the man you met months ago cold, arrogant, irritable, and infuriatingly professional. Every morning you received a message, always the same, as if you’d just started working together and hadn’t been living under the same roof for months: “Take her to the park between 6 and 7 PM. Don’t forget the snack and avoid the hottest hours. The full moon is coming and she’s sensitive to the sun. Don’t wait up. I’ll be late. I have work to do.” And every time you read “I have work to do,” you couldn’t help but think it was just an excuse to avoid being near you.

He always shut himself in his office. At dinner, he sat at the head of the table and spoke only to his daughter, as if you were invisible and one night, when he saw you still awake at the kitchen table with your Communication and Multimedia notes spread everywhere, he didn’t say much. Just a sharp glance, a mug filled with blood he barely touched, and a biting comment: “Didn’t know coloring PowerPoint titles were considered academic now.” You’d let it slide until that night. That night, you stood up, barefoot, wearing just a pair of shorts and an old oversized sweatshirt. Not to provoke him, but because you were tired of pretending nothing happened, tired of being invisible.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Your voice came out raw, almost breaking. “Do I have the plague or something?” He tensed, eyes fixed on his mug. “I’m not avoiding anyone. I have a life to manage, a company to run, a daughter to protect. I don’t have time for adolescent drama.” You stopped a meter away from him, watching his clenched fist. “Strange. A week ago, you didn’t seem so uninterested. You kissed me, bit me, crawled under my skin and now you act like I’m nothing.” He turned sharply. “You’re a girl. You’re not ready for what’s inside me. I made a mistake giving in to a stupid impulse. The kiss, the bite both mistakes I regret.”

His words shattered something inside you. “I’m not a girl. I raise your daughter every day. I gave up parties, skipped classes, lied to people because I thought it was worth it. That you were worth it.” He laughed, short, bitter. “Right. Like that night at the party. So responsible, right? Alcohol lies, and an outfit that was more sin than fabric.” Your chest tightened. “That night I messed up. But you… you made me feel alive. You looked at me like no one ever had.” He stepped closer, face tense, the air around you shrinking. “You make me something I shouldn’t be,” he spat. “Her mother left her. I won’t let her lose me too.” Silence fell like a slap and you stared at his clenched fists, his tight jaw. Then you whispered, “You’re just a coward.” You brushed past him, tears burning not just from anger, but heartbreak. You slammed the bedroom door behind you. And Jay? He didn’t follow but the mug he held… shattered in his hand.

That afternoon, golden light poured through the living room windows. The TV was off, the silence broken only by the occasional pencil falling to the floor and the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. You were deep into a complex yet fascinating visual semiotics assignment, surrounded by sticky notes, half a cold coffee, and colored pens. Your shoulders ached for a break.

Jenù sat on the rug with a little illustrated workbook from preschool, coloring sea creatures with an almost sacred focus. Every few minutes, she’d toss out questions some adorable, others just to get your attention. “Do fish know they can’t talk?” “If you lived underwater, would you be a long-haired mermaid or the kind with shells?” “Is pink allowed in the ocean? I’m using it anyway!”

You chuckled without looking up, refusing to let yourself soften because Jay didn’t want you to because he was distant, and because he had made you feel like a mistake. Jenù stood abruptly, hands on hips, and gave you her best vampire pout, flashing her baby canines.

“Are you scared now? I could suck your blood!” You smirked. “Not scared, little Dracula. I know you too well and you can’t bite with baby teeth.” She crossed her arms, ready to giggle, when the ding-dong of the front door echoed through the room. Jenù’s eyes lit up and she bolted instinctively.

“Daddy! You’re early!” she shouted but it wasn’t his voice that followed. It was female. Deep. Velvet-smooth. You turned around to see Jay, coat still on, and beside him… a woman. Tall. Beautiful. Pale skin, dark hair in a messy bun, endless legs in black pants, and a razor-sharp smile. You caught sight of her fangs. She looked like exactly the kind of woman Jay wanted in his world.

Jenù quickly let go of him and ran back to you, holding your hand as if anchoring herself. “This is Y/n! The best babysitter I’ve ever had! But not just a babysitter—she’s one of my best friends. She makes perfect braids, watches Monster High with me, and cooks way better than the mean witch-nail lady we had before!” Then she looked at her dad. “Don’t send her away. She’s better than all the others.”

Your heart skipped. Not just because of Jenù’s sweetness, but because of the cold, sharp tension that suddenly filled the room.“She’s my daughter’s babysitter,” Jay said curtly, without even looking at you. The woman laughed, lips blood-red, baring her perfect fangs.

-Oh, the babysitter? What is this, the thirtieth one? Cute...” She looked you over. Cute, for a human.- You bit your cheek to keep from snapping. The humiliation, the jealousy, the rage, you swallowed it all. Jay said nothing. He placed a hand on her back… and left it there too long. Jenù looked back and forth between the two of you, a bit confused.

“We’ll be in my office,” Jay said flatly. The woman turned to you before following, offering her hand. You shook it—and she gripped too hard. Her nails grazed your skin like claws.

-Careful not to get too attached, dear,-she whispered with a wicked smile. -Vampires… change their minds quickly.- She let go and disappeared into the study with Jay. You stood there frozen, Jenù’s little hand still clutching yours, your heart pounding. Only when the office door clicked shut did you realize what you were feeling? Jealousy. And for the first time… you wanted to drive him mad the way he was driving you.

It had been over two hours since dinner, simple tomato pasta with grilled veggies, which Jenù had arranged on the plate like tiny flowers. She giggled as she chewed, proudly explaining how well she had colored the jellyfish in her underwater workbook. Now you were in the bathroom, steam fogging the mirror. You knelt by the tub with a towel over your knees while Jenù washed her hands and brushed her "LITTLE TEETH"—her nickname for her baby vampire teeth. You smiled at her pink pajama, the one with teddy bears—too sweet for a half-vampire, but adorable.

“Mmm… I don’t like that lady,” she mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. “The one with shiny lips and claw hands.” You glanced at her through the mirror.

“Oh no?” “No. She laughs too much and looks at me funny. Why are they taking so long to work?” You bit the inside of your cheek. From Jay’s study, you could hear nothing but the clacking of keyboard keys and... laughter. “Your dad... has a lot of work. Sometimes meetings run late.” She didn’t look convinced but theatrically spit into the sink. “Is that why we spend so much time together? You nodded. “Exactly. But I don’t mind. You and me? We’re a team.”

When you left the bathroom—Jenù in her jammies, hair damp—you saw her, standing in the living room like she owned it. Leaning casually against a shelf, laughing at something Jay said, her hand lightly brushing his arm, her smile just a bit too sharp to be real. The moment she saw Jenù, she crouched and chirped in a sing-song voice:

-Sweetheart, you look beautiful! Those little fangs—such a perfect baby vampire! Though this pajama…- she laughed softly, -...a bit too human, don’t you think? You have special blood, you know?-

Jenù gripped your hand tighter and answered firmly: “It’s my favorite. Y/n gave it to me. She also got me a teddy bear at the fair and I like sleeping with him.” Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Jenù then pulled Jay’s arm.

“Daddy. Tonight, I want you to tell me a story.” The vampire woman’s smile faltered. She shot you a sharp glance—part threat, part promise: I know what you feel. And you’re going to lose. You didn’t flinch. You greeted her coldly, and she vanished into the night with a trail of sweet, cursed perfume. Jay and Jenù disappeared into her room, and instead of leaving, you followed. You sat on the edge of the bed as he began the story.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a castle as big as the sky. But she had a secret: her heart beat for two worlds—the world of humans, and the world of shadows.” Jenù snuggled against him, holding her bear.

“And was her daddy a king?” “No,” Jay said, brushing her hair. “Her daddy was a guardian. Someone who fought monsters in the dark… to keep her safe.” “Even if the monsters were inside him? Or close to him?” He paused. Then whispered, “Especially then.”

She yawned, her eyes finally closing. You gently covered her with a blanket, touched Jay’s arm, then left the room. But with each step away, a growing emptiness pressed into your chest. You have made your decision. Shoes on, bag in hand you were just about to walk out when Jay appeared in the hallway, sleeves unbuttoned, standing right in your way.

“Where are you going?” he said, watching you as you bent down to put on your shoes. You turned, determined not to cry, because you wanted to leave that house.

“To my place,” you said quietly. “At this hour?” Jay asked, slightly irritated, as he watched you stand.“I don’t mind babysitting Jenù,” you said flatly. “I’m happy to be there for her until I graduate... and even after. For her birthday, for the important moments. Forever, if she wants me to be.”

His eyes darkened, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak. “But I can’t live here. I don’t want to live in a house where vampires walk in wearing stiletto heels, red lips, and acid laughter. Where you… have fun while I help Jenù with her homework.” Jay stiffened, looking at you with a hint of anxiety at your words. “It’s not what you think.”

“No?” You lifted your chin. “Then what is it? Because I know you like me, and I know you’re holding back, but I don’t want to be one of many. I don’t want to be the babysitter who watches your daughter while you find someone in your league, someone perfect for you and for Jenù, because I…” Your voice cracked, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “I could fall in love with you… and you would break me.” Jay fell silent, then took a step toward you. “I can’t afford that. I can’t be weak with you. I can’t want that.”

You looked at him and sighed because you knew he’d never fight for this. “Then let me go,” you said as you grabbed your bag. But for once, he ignored every instinct. He didn’t listen to the vampire inside him the cold, calculating one who stopped loving the day his heart was broken, the one who wouldn’t let you in, the one who was afraid terrified of losing you and making you suffer.

He grabbed your wrist with that usually controlled strength and turned you to face him. His eyes, pitch black with faint red glimmers, flared like glowing embers. He lowered his head until his lips were just brushing yours and whispered, hoarse, hungry, sincere: “Fuck it… I can’t take it anymore. I want you in my life more than anyone else.” And he kissed you but it wasn’t like that time in his bed, after the party when you were drunk on adrenaline, music, and boldness.

No, this kiss was different. It tasted of long-repressed desire, of raw need finally unleashed, of his craving to have you, to show you how much he needed you. He bit your lower lip gently, and you moaned his name between parted lips.

“J-Jay…” He laughed softly against your mouth, that deep, maddeningly sexy laugh you’d only heard when he was with his daughter.

His hands grabbed your ass firmly, and without a word, he lifted you like it was nothing effortlessly, with the confidence of someone who’s fought a thousand battles and had supernatural strength. You clung to him like a koala, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers buried in his raven-black hair—soft and just long enough to grab.

You rubbed against him, feeling his erection pressing hard against you, and that’s when he growled low in his throat and degraded you with a whisper in your ear: “Not tonight, baby. I’m not just going to fuck you against a wall—I want to make you tremble. I want to make you feel so good you forget your name. I want you unable to walk tomorrow without thinking of me. I want to hear you moan my name and how crazy I make you.”

He kissed you, wet and hot, just beneath your ear, then moved slowly down your neck, licking the spot where the mark from his fangs still lingered. Your voice broke, and you stammered something you’d never said out loud: “I-I can’t resist you anymore, Jay…”

He paused and looked you in the eye, voice low: “I know. I can’t resist you either. Since day one, you’ve been driving me insane. Ever since I had you in my bed, every morning I wake up hard as hell, and I have to jerk off in the shower thinking about you on your knees all mine. But I want you to know something: I’m not just some asshole. Not with you. I want to take care of you, for once… I want to live without fear.”

He kicked open the door to his room and closed it behind him. It was dark, deep, dominated by a large black canopy bed with dark silk sheets but amid all that darkness… you were the light. He laid you down gently like you were precious, and his gaze traced every inch of your body. He brushed his fingers slowly over your hips and whispered:

“So beautiful… so bold… and you still don’t know you were born to be mine.” He unzipped your hoodie with one swift pull, stripping it off and leaving your breasts bare, your breath shallow, still in your sweatpants. He bit his lip and said, “Christ, you’re perfect.”

But you didn’t just lay there. With trembling fingers, you unbuttoned his shirt. His skin was golden, sculpted, tight muscles flexing under your touch everything you’d dreamed of feeling since that kiss. You dragged your nails down his abs, tracing every ridge, and he shuddered under your touch, eyes half-lidded. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Wanna play, little human? Tonight I’ll show you what it’s like to be under me… to be loved by me. And you’ll beg me never to stop.” His kisses trailed slowly down your neck, hot and wet, each bite leaving small marks—branding you with his possessiveness. He sucked your skin until it turned red, whispering against your flesh:

“Tomorrow, I want to see you covered in my marks. So everyone—those boys at university—know you’re mine.” You shivered at the sound of those words because you knew how protective he was with Jenù but with you… there were darker shades. Hungry. Possessive. His red-black eyes lingered on your chest, and the way he looked at you made you feel completely naked—even though you weren’t. One of his hands grabbed your breast, squeezing it firmly, making your back arch.

“S-sensitive…” you murmured, your voice breaking from pleasure. “Perfect,” he growled softly. “I love it when you’re sensitive.” Then, without warning, he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue tracing wet circles around it, his fangs lightly grazing the taut skin. You buried your fingers in his hair, holding back a desperate moan. “Look at how you react to me…” he whispered against your skin, slowly, cruelly licking your other breast. “I bet these breasts would be perfect, full of my milk, swollen with my seed and my future children,” he growled, a thin strand of spit soothing his little bites. You stared at him, eyes wide. A shiver ran down your spine at the way he spoke… as if he was already living the future he imagined with you. It scared you but excited you more than you wanted to admit. “J-Jay… don’t say that…” you moaned as you felt his hand tighten around your breast. “Why not?” he hissed against your belly, moving lower. “Sooner or later it will happen. You’ll be full of me—inside, outside, everywhere.” He kissed your lower belly while touching the piercing on your navel that drove him crazy, then looked into your eyes. “Lift your hips.”

You obeyed, and your sweatpants and panties slipped off in one smooth, quick motion, leaving you completely exposed before him, your thighs trembling, your breath caught. He looked at you and cursed under his breath, dark and rough: “Fuck… you’re perfect.” Instinctively, from shame and modesty—you hadn’t been naked in front of anyone for a long time and you were afraid you wouldn’t live up to his expectations—you tried to close your legs, but he slid between them, grabbing you firmly. “Don’t you dare hide from me,” he growled. “Not when you have such a beautiful pussy. Shiny, swollen… wet for me. Do you see how much you want me?” He started kissing you there, between your legs, with that disarming slowness that hurt. His lips followed a cruel rhythm: soft circles, small figure eights, his tongue grazing your clitoris with surgical precision. Your body tensed, and your hands searched for something to hold onto. All you found was his hair. “J-Jay…” you moaned, voice breaking. He chuckled low, predatory, as if he knew exactly how hard you were fighting not to beg him. “What did you say?” he whispered against you before giving another slow lick along your lips. “I didn’t hear you well.” Then one of his fangs brushed your clitoris, and a shiver ran down your spine. “Fuck…” you gasped, pulling his hair.

“You’ve got a long tongue for such a sweet girl,” he growled. “And now look how slick your fucking human pussy is… Christ, I could kill for this taste, I could stay down here for hours watching you lose for me.” A finger slipped inside you slowly, wrapped in warmth and your wetness, and he cursed, forehead resting on your belly. “So tight… so ready and only for me, right?” You nodded and whispered, “I need you… please.” “Please…?” he repeated. “You’re desperate, huh? I want to hear you beg. Say my name.” he chuckled. “Jay…” you sobbed. “Please, fuck me. Do it with your fingers, with that damn mouth. Make me feel something that breaks me.” Jay was obsessed with you, and without warning, he pushed in a second finger; you felt yourself being stretched, your thighs opening wider, clutching the sheets as if they could save you from him. “Baby,” he murmured, voice broken by hunger. “You’re so full and warm… Christ, I’d get drunk just on you.” He kept moving inside you, his fingers curling against that spot that made you see stars, while his mouth devoured you mercilessly again. “You’re mine. Mine, got it? No one else gets to see you like this. No one will touch you like I do.” His fingers moved inside you like they were born for that gesture while he pumped inside you, and at the same time his tongue made perfect circles around your sensitive clitoris, then suddenly deeper, fiercer. As if his body knew exactly when to push you over the edge and when to cradle you in torment. “I-I’m coming, Jay…” you stammered, voice broken, and he smiled with that dark, indecent grin. “Good. Come. Show me how beautiful you are when you break for me.”

He didn’t give you time, and his lips returned to your pussy as if it were his favorite meal. There was no hunger for blood in his eyes anymore, only desire, only thirst for you… without warning, he pinched your clitoris with his fang and you screamed. He covered your mouth with his hand and growled into your ear, “Want to wake Jenù?” he growled softly. “Want her to hear her babysitter getting fucked with her employer’s fingers?” Tears streamed down your face—from pleasure, from shame, and pure excitement. “I’m sorry…” you whispered against his hand, unable to control your trembling, and with your other hand, you tangled it in his dark hair, pulling him even deeper between your legs. Jay groaned but didn’t stop; his fingers hammered inside you, curved, calculated, and his tongue sucked with the precision of an expert demon. Then, shivering, you came against his mouth and his fingers, and he didn’t stop. He took everything from you, drinking your essence as if it were sacred, and when he pulled away, his lips glistened. The same fingers that had destroyed you, he brought to his mouth and slowly sucked them, moaning. “Your taste… fucking perfect. Human but with something of mine inside you now. Can you feel it? You’re mine. You always were.” And he kissed you. A kiss full of your own flavor, and you, still trembling, still lost, gave it back to him. “Stay with me,” Jay murmured against your lips. “I don’t want to wake up one day without your scent on these sheets.” You couldn’t even answer. Your body collapsed against his, exhausted, warm, alive, and you fell asleep tight against his chest. But Jay… Jay didn’t sleep. He watched you in the dark while your breathing slowed, and every now and then his hand moved, caressing your side, then traveling up your belly, kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hollow behind your knee—and you… even in sleep, moaned softly. He was obsessed, thinking only about how easy it was to push you to the limit, how your body responded only to him, and he wanted to wake you again with his mouth between your thighs, wanted to hear your voice break again, wanted to bite you, make you his in the most absolute way. She’s mine. Even when she sleeps, even when she doesn’t know it, and for the first time in centuries… Jay Park felt alive.

It had been a few weeks since that night when he made you realize he cared about you and wanted you with him, and with all his might, he was pushing away the idea that he could love someone other than just his daughter. Things had changed—or maybe they had simply transformed.

He was no longer gruff, cold, or distant with you; on the contrary, he was spending much more time with you and Jenù. Every opportunity seemed good to involve you, even in moments you honestly never imagined could involve a 300-year-old aristocratic vampire.

Like… going to the movies. Yes, you heard that right the movies, not the private theater in his house but the one shared between humans and vampires in downtown Seoul. You, Jay, and Jenù sitting almost in the back row watching the new Disney movie Lilo & Stitch!

Jenù was clutching her favorite stuffed animal, you were holding her hand, and Jay… Jay was on the left, with a huge popcorn bucket on his lap. Halfway through the movie, when an emotional scene made Jenù’s eyes and yours glow, Jay leaned toward you.

“So humans cry even for an animated doll?” he whispered with a cocky smile, and you threw a popcorn straight at his face. Jenù laughed like crazy, and that’s when the battle started: flying popcorn, stifled giggles, sneaky hands trying to grab the popcorn bucket before the other a silent but beautiful disaster. Jay was laughing, and at that moment, you thought: maybe this is love, or maybe it’s a wonderful trap, because little by little, you were falling in love with that 27-year-old man who, in his vampire form, was 300 years old…

That afternoon at university, Sunghoon called to say he would pick up Jenù from kindergarten and take her to dance. You replied with a simple “ok,” already mentally preparing to take the crowded subway, but then you immediately saw a message from Jay saying: “I’ll come get you.”

You sighed because surely he and Sunghoon had made plans, and you thought: God, no.

Being seen outside the university in a shiny black Aston Martin at four in the afternoon? It was mortifying. Plus, you were wearing your dad’s hoodie, and battle-worn faded jeans, and you weren’t wearing any makeup or looking presentable for someone like him… yet, there he was. Parked in front of the entrance, headlights on, the door already open as per his gentleman status, and you got in.

That unmistakable scent aged whiskey, leather, something ancient and warm that smelled like him wafted into your nostrils, and you felt better seeing him dressed not for work either. He wore slightly dressy pants but a Ralph Lauren sweater that hugged his muscular chest, and his hair was so messy you smiled because he must have run his hands through it countless times.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, glancing at you sideways.“Just a headache, a bit tired the graduation is coming, and I can’t wait to finish to figure out which master’s to do.” Jay didn’t answer right away. He stretched his arm toward the back seat and handed you a warm carton. Hot chocolate. When you opened it, you saw it was covered with marshmallows, and you looked at him.

“How do you know that’s my favorite?” He raised an eyebrow, sly, and smiled. “I watch you carefully.” “Stalker,” you whispered as you started to drink, and he smiled. Then you shivered an unexpected chill ran down your spine. “Can you turn up the temperature?” you asked, your hands warming thanks to the hot chocolate’s heat. “It’s already 23 degrees.” Without a word, he moved closer and pressed his cold forehead against yours. “Fuck… you’re burning up.”You put your hand to your forehead—he was right, you were burning.“You have a fever.” His tone was authoritative and cold, but protective. Almost… tender. “You need to rest.” “Yes, Dad,” you teased, and he looked at you, his red eyes slightly narrowed, letting you drink in peace. But beneath that calm… he was already reckoning with how much he was getting attached to you a small human, too stubborn, too fragile, and too… his.

Jay never thought he’d have to take care of two girls in his life—and yet, in the middle of the night, he found himself standing next to the bed, watching over two humans. Well… one human and one small half-blood. One too stubborn for her good, with a fever and a stuffy nose. Jenù was asleep, her legs sprawled over his chest, breathing in little puffs.

You, on the other hand, were a whole different problem. For three days, your fever had hovered between 38.5 and 38.5, your nose red enough to melt any heart… and your hair so messy it looked more like a declaration of war than a symptom. Jay was immovable: rest, broth, medicine, more rest.

But you? You wanted the whole world, even with a fever and dark circles under your eyes. That night, you got up quietly, thinking he was in his study—but no. Jay was there, leaning against the kitchen door with his arms crossed. Crimson eyes, a sharp gaze, but he said nothing for a long second.

He looked at you: his sweatshirt nearly reached your knees, your pajama pants hung a bit off one hip, and your face pale, tired… and beautiful. That red nose, flushed cheeks, those wild strands of hair something in him snapped. A sharp, sweet pang.

Damn, she’s cute like this. Especially like this. Vulnerable, real, fully his, in his home. He walked toward you slowly, his voice stern: “Back to bed.”

“No.” Your voice came out hoarse, weak and then, suddenly, you hugged him. mA simple gesture. Natural.

But for Jay, it was like lightning. You weren’t a physical person. You never hugged him like that without a reason. Maybe because you didn’t trust him yet—not completely. But he wanted to become the person you could trust.

And him? He held you tight, protective in a way that surprised even him. A kind of touch he usually reserved only for his daughter. Don’t let me get used to this, little human… because I might never want to let it go.

“Sweetheart, you need rest…” he whispered into your ear, voice low and warm, unusually gentle. “I know,” you murmured, your forehead against his chest. “But I’m hungry… for something good. And no, I don’t want any more plain noodles or chicken soup.” You looked up at him with those eyes the same eyes Jenù used when she wanted to stay up late or ask for something and he recognized the look instantly.

He shook his head. “No.” You hugged him tighter, inhaling that scent of his that always made you feel at home, and you said: “Please… ramen. Slightly spicy, the one with the soft-boiled egg inside…”“You’ve got a fever,” he replied in his usual stern tone, and you pouted, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

“Then I’ll call Heeseung,” you whispered with a faint smile. “The ramen king.” You tried to pull away to grab your phone, but Jay growled softly. His red eyes flared. That bastard’s not making you a damn thing. Not in my house.

Without another word, he took your hand warm, trembling, so human and dragged you into the kitchen. He sat you down on the counter and began preparing the ramen. You watched him move in silence, enchanted by the way he focused just to feed you. The way he opened the spice packets, cracked the eggs, and added the broth with precise gestures. As he stirred the pot, Jay thought about how much of a child you seemed to him. Fragile, human, noisy—and there he was, making ramen at three in the morning just because you gave him that sick puppy look.

I’ve gone insane.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked without turning around. He could feel your gaze on him.

“Like what?” you asked, a little sleepy. “Like I’m a miracle.” You smiled faintly.

“Maybe you are.” Jay froze for a second, the ladle hanging in the air. His (dead) heart skipped something dangerously close to a beat.

It’s just the fever talking, just a random moment. But then you turned away, coughing softly, and he placed one hand on your back, the other on your forehead.

“You still have a fever.” “I know,” you murmured with a shiver. “Eat. Then bed,” he said in that commanding tone of his. You whispered, “Only if you come too.” There was a pause—silence heavy enough to make your chest tighten in fear he might laugh at you. But Jay nodded slowly. He didn’t say a word but inside…

He was already surrendering. To your voice, to your fragility, to that sweetness he never asked for but that was slowly invading his life.

And maybe… just maybe…He was falling in love with you.

The next day, Jenù only had a mild cold. Jay checked her temperature and, with a satisfied look, confirmed the fever was gone. He sent her off to spend time with Sunghoon and your best friend "just to be safe," he said… though you suspected he just wanted a few hours alone with you.

He took your temperature right after. “37.5°. It’s going down.” “Oh, Doctor Jay, what wonderful news! Tell me, did you study medicine or is this all part of your panicked dad instincts?” Jay shot you a sharp look, but the corners of his lips curved into a half-smile.

“In my vampire ID, I’m 300 years old, sweetheart. I’ve seen plenty of sick people.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back against the couch.“There he is again — the ancient immortal. You know, I keep forgetting I’m dating someone who could’ve voted during the age of absolute monarchies.” “Dating?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. You two weren’t just “dating” like some teenagers fumbling through a first crush.

“Okay, fine living together, making out, exploring each other, co-parenting your daughter pick your term,” you said with a smirk as you stretched. “Anyway, I need a shower. I look like a gremlin and I hate tangled hair.” Jay stiffened immediately. “I don’t want you alone in the bathroom.” You looked at him, shrugging. “You can stay by the door. I don’t plan on drowning in shower gel.” He stepped closer, his face serious. “What if you faint? Or worse hit your head?”

You gave him a wry look. “If this is your way of asking to join me, just say so.” Jay’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “She’s back...the girl from our first months together. The one who teased me every five minutes.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around him.

“She never left. You just got used to my brilliant personality.” He sighed and raised his hands. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll prepare the main bathroom for you.”

When he finally called you in, the scene looked like something out of a movie: The large black marble tub steamed with hot water, dotted with violet sea salt pearls. The air smelled of vanilla and lavender, and candles flickered around the edges.

You stood at the doorway, lips slightly parted. As a kid, you had always dreamed of a bathtub like that, but your family home never had one — and your student apartment didn’t even come close.“You… did all this for me?” you whispered. “No. It was for me. But since you’re always complaining, I’ll let you use it,” he replied sarcastically, turning to leave. “Relax. Just don’t get up too fast.”

But you reached out and caught his wrist. “Stay,” you said softly, a little shyly. Jay turned slowly to face you, his gaze drifting down over your body, hidden beneath one of his oversized hoodies.

“I’m not pretty right now, I know,” you murmured, face warm. “All sweaty, still a little feverish…” You began pulling down your pajama pants slowly, left in nothing but your underwear. Then you peeled off the hoodie no bra underneath and Jay let out a quiet, almost frustrated breath as his eyes scanned your body. He reached out and cupped one of your breasts gently, brushing your nipple with his thumb. You gasped softly, tilting your head back at the contrast between your warm skin and his cool hands.

“You’re a little overdressed,” you whispered. He didn’t say anything, just took off his shirt revealing his golden skin and sharp V-line then slid off his sweatpants, staying in just his boxers. You were biting your lower lip without realizing it, and he noticed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded before giggling shyly. “Can you turn around while I get in? Even vampires should know how to respect privacy.” Jay scoffed. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen your pussy from every angle.” “Jay!” you scolded, slapping his chest. He laughed and turned his back.

You slipped into the tub the water was just the right kind of hot. The steam kissed your skin and made you close your eyes for a second, letting yourself melt into it. Jay turned back around, watching you as you relaxed in the water. Then, slowly, he took off his boxers. You shut your eyes instantly.

“I said you turn around, not me!” “You’ve been naked for a minute,” he replied, climbing in. “Might as well.”

He settled behind you, pulling you gently between his legs, your back resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, and he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. The hot water enveloped you both like a velvet cocoon but Jay’s hands, cold like winter moonlight, made you shiver every time they touched your skin.

You could feel his arousal pressing against you — constant, undeniable — and a quiet moan escaped your lips. Jay smiled slightly, misinterpreting it. “Am I bothering you, sweetheart?” he whispered, continuing to lather your back with slow, careful movements… almost reverent.

"No… just a little shiver, " you lie, leaning your head against his chest as he had asked you. Its smell invaded you: wood, and smoke, mixed with the sweet note of vanilla and lavender. His hands began to descend slowly, lingering on the curves of your hips, then rising again, caressing your neck gently before lingering on the breast and you arched your body as you wanted it closer. "Perfect…" he whispered against your skin, his lips barely touching your lobe. "Too perfect for such a damn human creature." You moved, without realizing it, rubbing against him, and his body reacted with a slight quiver and a subdued laugh. "Careful, little human …" he muttered in a low tone, scratched with desire. "Do not tease what you are not ready to tame." His hand went down again, stroking your belly with slow, torturing movements, before lingering between your thighs. His kisses began to rain on you like caresses: on the neck, behind the shoulder, in the still-damp hair. «Jay…" you whispered, just turning around to look for his gaze. "You're on painkillers, love. You don't know what you're saying," he replied in a hoarse voice, but his hands hadn't stopped, and you turned a little more, running your fingers through his hair, and in the movement, you felt his cock rub against your bottom. He was hard, and hot despite his skin, and it was clear how much he was struggling with himself. You looked at him with bright eyes. "I need you." He kissed you and it was not a tender kiss, it was a hungry bite, a fire devouring the air between you and slightly pinched your lower lip, savoring a drop of your blood as if it were his condemnation. "You don't know what trouble you're getting yourself into…" he hissed at your mouth. "Then let me sink with you." Your voice trembled, but it was not fear: it was desire. He stared at you, then shook his head with that tired, sharp smile. "You are a stubborn child and too human for your good…" And yet, his fingers were already moving between your legs, tracing slow and skillful circles, his fingers were tracing slow circles against your already hot, swollen cunt, so sensitive that you almost could not hold back the moans.

"Jay… please… I want to hear you inside…" He sighed, and his breath caressed your neck like a broken promise. "you're too cheeky to be a babysitter» You bit your lip, but the answer came out to you anyway: "I know what I want and I want you.» His laughter was low, biting. "Really? And what exactly do you want, honey?" You stammered, but the words melted into a sigh as you felt the entrance of your now swollen folds teasing you: "I want to feel good. I can't take it anymore… to be repressed every time I see you. I've wanted you for months…and you, you with your daughter are sweet, perfect… and you're a bad bastard with me. Looks like you live with a pole up your ass." His laugh this time was true but also as sharp as a barely sharp canine. "You know I could bite you just for what you just said?" He pinched your hips, then with cruel slowness slid a finger into you and your body reacted as if it had always expected it: you groaned, your head back resting on his shoulder, and you groaned. "Continuous… please…" "Fucking human," he hissed at your skin, as his teeth grazed the curve of your shoulder. "So greedy for my finger? What are you gonna do when I fucking dig you in? When will I plant my teeth in your neck and make you mine for real?" You barely moved, tilting your hips, rubbing over his still-captive boner between the two of you and he growled softly.

"Stay still…" order. "If you still move I'll take you like that. Without lubricants, without sweetness and I swear you will scream my name until everyone in the palace hears you." "Jay…" you whined, moving against his fingers. He looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and burning desire. "You behave worse than a child in heat. I should punish you." But he didn't, instead, he slid a second finger into you, bending it with mastery as his thrusts became deeper, more insistent and your body writhed against his, looking for more friction, more pressure, more of everything. "You… yes so… You're great…", you praised him between moans, without shame, as you felt how his cock under you became harder and harder, swollen, impatient. You felt it, you wanted it, and he was losing his temper, too.

"Be careful…" he growled softly," I'm going to rip your soul out if you keep moving like this." You wrapped your arms around His neck, your head resting on his shoulder, and you babbled against his skin: "I'm… I'm coming…" He smiled, damn pleased. "You're only coming with two fingers inside and I haven't even touched your clit… You're so sensitive, so damn mine." You nodded, unable to speak, until your body stretched all together and the orgasm ran through you like an electric shock, making you scream at his chest as you felt your cunt twitch, hot, wet, sticky, even hungrier than him against his fingers. "Good girl…" he muttered, slowly removing his fingers from inside you, looking at them, shiny and wet, but this time he did not bring them to his mouth. Instead, he picked up some of your same mood and slid it down, between your buttocks and the touch made your back arch. It was the first time anyone touched you in that area and he knew it. "If you want it, honey…", he said in a rougher voice,"…I need to make sure it doesn't hurt. You are small, narrow, and too human." He continued to pass his finger carefully through the folds, pressing only gently, preparing you, his tone became lower, more intimate. "I don't want to break you. I want you to feel it, everything, but slow, only if you're ready." You nodded slowly, your heart in your throat and your body on fire, trembling as if you were about to collapse because you wanted to feel it inside you for months now.

"I … I've never done it like this…" you stuttered with a sweaty forehead, fingers clasped against his broad shoulders as if only he could still hold you in balance and he looked at you with his eyes too dark to belong in this world. He kissed you in the hair and put you even closer to him to feel how much he wanted you. "Then I'll do it." murmur. "And it will be nice but if you tell me to stop, I will always stop, remember that." His hard, taut cock slid between your buttocks with sadistic patience and you felt it throb against you, like a living creature, as if choosing you and every slow rub was a bite of pleasure and torture. He had been lubricating you for minutes, with expert, careful fingers, and now the tip was already pressing where no one had ever been. Then he lowered his head and he kissed your neck alternating light hickeys and light bites with his fangs and you heard him growling softly against your skin, as if hungry for everything you were. "I can't take it anymore…" you gasped, your voice broken, damp. "I want you too much…" He giggled against your ear, a low, poisonous laugh of desire. "I knew that under that too-long tongue was hiding a little human slut who wanted to be filled all over." He grabbed you by the hips with force, clutching the flesh as if he wanted to leave a mark on us.

"Relax … sit on top of me. So, let me lead you into hell."Your knees trembled as you lifted, feeling your body straining in the void. "Raise that beautiful little ass for me. That's right." You whined as his hands held you still between your hips. "Are you ready, baby?" he said while teasing the skin of your body. "Yes … yes, I am…" you muttered, and so you felt his toe push slowly, come in, spread It burned but it was a fire you wanted, you had been looking for for months and you both groaned. "Fuck…" you gasped. "It's so big… so big… it hurts but…" you said as you felt it making space inside you deeper and deeper and the only friction that gave you relief was the now slightly lukewarm water. "And you are…" he growled in a broken voice, his breath trembling. "So tight, so hot, Christ, your body is made to be fucked by me. Feel how well you take me…" Tears rose to your eyes from pleasure, and when you were halfway through his entrance, you moaned almost in a sob: "It's too much … too much…" He laughed, with a sound that smelled of sin but also of the desire to break you. "Too much? And you didn't even make it to the better half…" With your hands sunk to the edge of the tub, you lifted yourself a little more, your body tense, heaving, while the cock remained inside you, ravenous and insatiable.

Then you began to descend again, slowly, deeper, and his groan was violent, brutal, like an animal held too long. "Good … So … But me…" His voice cracked, broken, as the grip on your hips became tighter, more urgent. "I can't take it anymore. I want to sink everything in, I want to be tight in you to the last drop." "Jay …" you whined and he giggled seeing you against the mirror trying to get used to his size creeping more and more inside you. He lifted you slightly, holding you by the hips with his hands wide and secure, then let you fall back on his cock in a single, deep lunge and you screamed. Not because of pain, but because of the intensity because it was everywhere, it took all of you, it filled every corner of your body. "Fuck… you're so hot. So fucking tight…» You just turned around, your hair touching his bare chest, and you stammered disjointed words, lost in pleasure: "I hear you… too much inside… not… I can't… you drive me crazy, Jay…" He growled and kissed your bare back. "You're fine, you're perfect when you tremble and look how good you are at taking everything from me…"

His hands pushed you up, then down again and he made you ride him slowly, then forcefully, holding your hips as you drove the pace in the bathroom you could hear only the flow of hot water and the sound of your skin slapping against his, your moans, his roaring breaths… everything blended into a perfect symphony. His cock penetrated you deep, each lunge sent liquid shocks between your legs and when you began to lose balance, his hands went to support you from below, pressing with their thumbs on the curves of your ass. "I want to see you completely lost. I want you to remember this feeling every time you look at me." You felt it throbbing inside you, already at the limit and then it changed angle, pushing the pelvis slightly higher and god hit you right there. "It's too much…." you cried and screamed at how well he was taking you. "No," he growled. "You take it. Because you're my good girl, remember?" He was fucking you from underneath now, pushing in with force and precision, while you rode his body as if you were falling apart and finding your perfect shape in his hands. «Jay… I'm coming…" You groaned, your voice broken, confused between crying and ecstasy. "Come, then," he whispered against your back. "Show me how you break for me."

Your orgasm swept over you like a wave, as he clutched you, your thighs trembled as you took him still inside you, sitting on his cock, your back arched and your hair stuck to sweaty skin. His hands held you steady, wide, icy, sunk into your hips as he drew small circles around your hips. "Look how you take me…" he whispered in a hoarse voice, his forehead resting on your back. "You're so tight, so fucking hot… Christ, you're taking me so well" Every time you let go of him, you felt him rise deep, hard, thick, pulsating. "It's too much … you're too in… I can't…" But your body told another story because you wanted to feel it all inside you. "Yes, you succeed because you are mine. Made to be fucked by me so forever." His hands moved under your breast, grabbing it, squeezing it with gentle brutality as he lifted you, then made you fall back on him, stronger, deeper. The noise of your skins coming together was obscene and whispered dirty praises in your ear. “Look how good you are … my insatiable little human … so hungry for me." You cried, laughed, and groaned, all together. "god … please…don't come inside…" He paused for only a second and the silence was heavier than desire.

"Are you taking the pill?" You did no with your head, breathing hard but his eyes shone. "Then let me fill you up." He grabbed your hair, pulling it slowly to make you turn towards him. "I want you fertilized, I want to see you swollen with my seed and I want to brand you inside, not just outside."

A thrill passed through you because you had never felt so good in your life. "Tell me you want it." "Yes … yes, I want you to fill me… I want your seed inside me." The growl he made was almost animalistic. "Good girl." and then his cock impaled you again, sinking with strength and pure desire. He took you by the throat, with the right squeeze, without really tightening, just to dominate you, and pushed himself deeper, dirtier, as his hips lifted and lowered you as if you were an extension of him. He was fucking you like a god and you were his goddess, his chest was against your back. His mouth was on your neck and bit you slightly not to hurt you or mark you and then came. You felt Him explode inside you, hot, flooding and you felt his release slip dent of you and his hands trembled around your waist as he panted your name. His seed dripped slowly between your thighs, still sitting on him, and you just turned, your cheek against his chest, your heart exploding in your chest.

"Jay" He kissed you on the forehead and in a low voice you said, "I love you." You said it slowly as if you were afraid of his reaction but he squeezed you harder and slid you slightly from him and then straddled you and hugged you and said, "I love you too and I can't pretend otherwise anymore."

You giggled and when you looked up he looked up. "Damn…" he whispered, he took you in his arms again, his face in your hair. "I seriously fell in love with a little girl who acts as a babysitter to my daughter and by the way a human who teases me from the first day she entered through that door!"

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[btsreadss]

I DON'T LIKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND, PJS (PART 1)

• SYNOPSIS: A fleeting encounter with Park Jay at a high school party leaves a quiet imprint on your then broken heart. Years later, you find him again, now as an icy guitarist of the campus boy band, HYPHENIX. You never spoke again, but you remembered his eyes, his words, his presence and how he lingered at the back of your mind years after. You wanted to reach for him, but he was so far, popular, untouchable that you decided to pour your heart to him in secret, until the secret was revealed but someone else claimed it before you could. Or in which you pour your heart into anonymous letters for the cold, distant guitarist, Jay, only to watch your best friend claim every word as her own.

• PAIRING: Park Jongseong (Jay) x afab!reader

• WORD COUNT: 21.4k (Part 1)

• CONTENT TAGS: Non idol au, university settings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn, shy reader x popular Jay, down bad reader, betrayal, abandonment, miscommunications or lack of communications, profanities, name calling, stereotyping, best friend's boyfriend, reader is nosy and loves other people's business way too much (my twin fr), fear of rejection and unwanted attention, body image issues in the beginning, toxic relationships and friendships, low-key stalker reader, reader wears glasses, not proofread, lmk if I missed anything.

• AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic turned out to be more lengthy than I initially planned, so I am splitting it into 2 part. Lmk if you want to be tagged for part 2 when I post it. Your likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated. Thank you so much for showering my write ups with your love. Happy reading♡♡

The music blaring through the speakers hit you first, deep bass vibrating through the pavement long before you reached the house. It meddled with your heartbeat, getting louder with decreasing distance from the party. You sighed leaning your head on the car's window, the house looked unfamiliar, windows glowing red, blue, green against the night. You didn't know whose house this was, just that your boyfriend said everyone would be there and to let yourself loose from time to time. You fixed the glasses on your nose, and adjusted your jacket, you turned your head to look at your boyfriend.

He looked in your direction briefly when he felt your gaze on him before sighing, "don't stress too much." You gulped, feeling anxious, "I don't really know anyone there Joon," you started, eyes brimming with worry, "you'll stay by my side right?" You heard him exhale a deep breath before throwing a wink at you, "yes babe, don't worry, you look really beautiful today, I'm stressed someone will steal you away from me." You pushed him a bit, blush creeping on your neck as you turned back towards the window. 

Cars were lined up the driveway, recklessly parked. You wouldn't expect anything less from high schoolers anyway. You could hear the screams and laughter from the porch, it was loud and chaotic and it made your stomach churned. "Let's go," your eyes followed your boyfriend's actions, and you proceeded to take off your seatbelt. He stood beside the door tapping his foot impatiently, you shook your head and opened your side of the door. He locked the door behind you and started making his way towards the house. You hurriedly rushed behind him, and then slowed your steps down when you reached beside him. 

The air was thick inside, tangled in a weird mix of cheap perfume, alcohol and something burning, maybe it was food or the fireworks you didn't know. Your hand latched onto your boyfriend's sleeve as soon as you entered. The environment was warm, crowded, strangers pressed against each other like puzzle pieces that don't belong together. The LED lights stung your eyes. You moved through the crowd tightly pressed against your boyfriend's side. Every corner of the room was alive with conversations you weren't a part of, some shouting over the music, some laughing at their friend's antics, some posing for pictures. The walls of the house felt suffocating though it was relatively big, the energy inside too much, reminding you that you don't belong here. 

The music was pounding in your ears, too loud, too bothersome. You stood beside your boyfriend, who anxiously texted his friends asking where they are. Your eyes trailed towards the dance floor, bodies swayed with the rhythm of the music, some too close, some trying not to lose their balance. It happened too fast, one moment your boyfriend was beside you, another moment he rushed towards the other side of the room completely disregarding your presence. Your eyes followed him, your steps following suit. Someone shouted over the bass, out of frustration or joy you couldn't tell. 

You grabbed your boyfriend's hand, your action making him stop to look at you. Just in time someone crashed into your shoulder, their clumsy actions making you stumble as a slosh of liquid hit the floor beneath you and onto your heel-cladded feet. The sticky scent of fruit punch or some weird concoction clung in the air, few people gathered around to look at the mess before laughing and stepping over it like it didn't matter. Your feet felt sticky and your boyfriend rolled his eyes at the sight, "how about you go to the bathroom and clean yourself? I'll wait for you here." You grimaced before nodding your head at your boyfriend and making your way towards the bathroom. 

You washed your feet and heels with irritation seeping deep in your bones, this is the exact reason why you don't do parties, it's messy and loud and everything you tend to avoid. After drying your feet and heels with tissue, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror. You combed your fingers through your loose hair to make them a tad bit presentable, fixing your glasses yet again you sighed and texted your boyfriend to meet near the dance floor. You made your way out of the bathroom and towards the dance floor, scanning the room for your boyfriend as you waited for him to text you back. 

"Joon?" You tapped his shoulder when you found him leaning on the wall as he chatted with someone animatedly. He turned around, visible irritation laced on his face as he excused himself and made his way in the opposite direction, you followed suit, confused about his sudden discontent towards you. "Joon, where are you going? I asked you to wait for me, didn't I?" He stopped abruptly when he was sure he was away from the eyesight of his friends. You collided with his back, "I was just catching up with my friends! Can't you at least leave me alone for a few minutes?" You shuddered at his high-pitched tone, "you know I don't like partying yet I came since you promised that you'll stay by my side."

"Gosh you're so clingy-" his voice was cut off when someone called out his name, both of you turned around towards the person, "is this your girl Joon? Won't you introduce her to us?" You eyed the girl who smiled at you after giving your boyfriend a sharp side eye. He shrugged, ushering her to join others before he turned towards you. "Take your jacket and glasses off, try to look good for me in front of my friends, I've a reputation to uphold." Your eyes widened at his words rendering you speechless. It was the first time he had uttered those words to you, was he ashamed of introducing you to his friends just as you were? You thought he loved you for you. 

All of your thoughts came to a halt when he turned you around and took off your jacket despite you protesting. You weren't comfortable with showing much skin. He knew that the spaghetti strap top you were wearing underneath made you feel more conscious about yourself and your surroundings. He threw the jacket somewhere on the couch, grabbing your hand and made his way towards his friends. "Joon, you know I'm not good with people, what are you doing?" He ignored your pleas as he stopped in front of his friends. You put your head down, hoping somehow they'll focus on your boyfriend and forget that you existed. 

"Your girlfriend is really pretty, Joon." One of the girls from his circle chimed, her nails lightly scratching his arms, she didn't even spare you a glance as she went on about how pretty you are, and how funny you must be. Everyone else looked a bit uncomfortable at the exchange aside from your boyfriend and her. Someone cleared their throat to break the awkward tension and your boyfriend snapped from his trance and proceeded to introduce you. Awkward and sympathetic smiles greeted you in return, their eyes meeting with each other like they knew something you didn't. The same girl asked you to have a drink, laughing obnoxiously loud as you declined as if not abusing your liver was a mundane thought to have. 

Joon grabbed the drink from the waiter and held your face with one hand as he forced you to drink whatever it was in that cup, you pushed him, startled by him constantly crossing your boundaries without a single care. The whole group gasped as he stumbled backward and fell on the ground. Few of his friends took out their cameras to record the scene. You wiped the remnants of the drink dropping down from your mouth, your eyes fixed on the way your boyfriend glared at you. The girl from earlier sat by his side, words of venom spilling off from her cherry lips as she helped your boyfriend get up. And with the way your boyfriend's hand rested low on her lips and the concern etched on her face, you knew what place you held in your boyfriend's life.

You shook your head as you made your way towards the back of the house, taking off your glasses momentarily to wipe the tears that managed to fall off your eyes. The backyard was nearly empty save it from a few people who were smoking joints in the corner. You made your way towards the small staircase which led towards the gazebo and sat there, contemplating on your reactions towards your boyfriend's actions. You turned to look if he followed you but got more disappointed as you saw him wrapping his arms around the girl instead. You couldn't figure out if the shiver that went down your spine and the goosebumps on your skin was because of your boyfriend's actions or because of the weather. 

You let the tears flow, your glasses fogging up as you took deep breaths to control losing your shit right at a stranger's house. This isn't how you planned the start of your weekend to go, yet here you were, drowning in your misery as your mind went back to all the things your boyfriend did previously which you ignored. You were too busy believing in his potential that you forgot to look at how he is in the present. All the lies, the excuses, the missed dates, the secrecy everything played in front of your eyes like a tape record on loop. You blame yourself for letting him play with you for so long. 

You stopped crying when a blurry image came into view, you took off your glasses, wiped it with the hem of your top and put it back to get a better view. You heard a sigh from beside you, as your vision adjusted, a handkerchief. You took it in your hand and wiped your tears, unable to look at the person who handed it to you. "Young love, huh? Must be painful..." your eyes fell on the stranger who sat beside you, a half-smile adorning his face, not unkind but more like he knew how you were feeling, "but hey, heartbreak makes a good story for later, right?" You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment, "you're saying it like you're some old man trapped in a hot boy body." 

"You're saying I'm hot?" Your cheeks flared up with heat as you let the weight of your words sink in your head, your eyes widened in embarrassment as he just laughed. You took in his appearance, he was laughing with his head thrown back, carefree and unfiltered like he owned the world. His cheeks flushed, either from alcohol or laughing, you weren't sure. His smile was wide, the kind of smile which made people look at him twice even without meaning to. His hair's a little messy, pushed back like he ran his hands through it one to many times. His eyes shined with a tipsy charm as they locked with yours, the kind of eyes which makes you forget your own name even when he's sober. 

"I saw what happened back there, thought you'd appreciate a company," his words brought your mind back to your current situation, frown appearing on your relaxed face once again. You sighed, hugged yourself, maybe you could use some company, "I really thought he loved me," you started, head hanging low as you felt shame consume you for being so stupid, "I let him break one too many of my boundaries." He sighed as he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders. His scent enveloped your senses, calming your frantic heart a little, "dump him, he's not worth it and you're better than this." 

You looked at him briefly, "I don't know if I have that much confidence in me, I don't have anyone else other than him." His hand made its way to your chin, lifting it up slightly, you're met with his sharp gaze, "confidence isn't loud you know, sometimes confidence is just choosing yourself over others. And I believe you're closer to choosing yourself than you think." His determined eyes and lopsided smile made your heart skip a bit. He reluctantly removed his hand from your chin, coughing awkwardly as he looked away as if his words didn't really pierced through your heart. "You think so?" You questioned meekly as you fiddled with your fingers. He looked at the sky, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped, "You don't need to be confident to walk away. You just need to take one step. And yeah, maybe you feel like he is all you have right now but he is not all there is. Don't build your entire world around someone who can't hold it for you." 

You let his words sink in your chest, your boyfriend was the only person you had, he made sure of that. Maybe deep down you knew you deserved better than him, and maybe you just needed someone else to remind you, "you're great with words, can I at least know the name of the person I am trauma bonding with?" He chuckled at your words, "Jay's fine." You nodded, telling him your name in return. You spent the rest of the night talking with him, your mind drifting far off from your boyfriend as you laughed at him while he explained how he got fed up with his friends who were shit-faced drunk and creating a scene. He told you how parties weren't really his cup of tea but he liked entertaining his friends who loved it. As the night went on you realized he was drunk as well and probably won't even remember this small exchange with you in the morning, yet you were glad you weren't drowning alone in your misery tonight. 

"Ah, I need to go. My friends have been calling me non stop and my phone was on silent mode." He was on his feet and off towards the house before you could bring yourself to stop him to ask for his number. You booked a cab to get you back to your house when you realized he didn't take his jacket back with him. You just looked at him as his figure disappeared into the crowd and ran towards the direction he went but you lost him and you wondered if you'll ever be able to meet me again. You reached home, head pounding due to all the crying and a little bit of drink which your boyfriend forced you to drink. 

You quickly messaged your boyfriend to call it quits and blocked his number from every possible app you could, not even waiting for his reply. You opened your instagram, your fingers moving before your mind did. You recognized a guy from your school, Sunoo, at the party. He's a social butterfly. Maybe his profile could help you with finding Jay. You opened his profile, sighing in relief as his page was public, you went to the tagged section to see if you could find Jay and there he was. You zoomed in to take a clear look, the picture was blurry but the jacket in the picture looked familiar to the one currently draped on your chair. You clicked on it to see if his username is tagged and thankfully it did. His profile was more low-key than low-key, just some pictures of his guitars, a group picture and a name, HYPHENIX.

The university's campus is louder and lively than it needs to be. The courtyard buzzing with laughter and talks of people huddling together to make memories. People walk in with their little groups, coffee in one hand, backpacks slung over their shoulders, carefree like they've already figured out how to survive here, like they know they belong here. You pass through them like wind brushing past one's hair, your head down, hands clasped around the straps of your backpack. The hallway isn't any better, students rushing to get to their respective classes, some frantic, some lazed out. There's echo of shoes, heels, sneakers, boots, which remind you that you are walking with them, just not beside. Voices overlap, laughter resonates, lockers being slammed shut and class door's daring you to knock and enter. Everyone seems to have somewhere to be, someone to text, someone waiting for them to join and you just wheeze past them, not invisible entirely just easy to miss. 

You're halfway to your class when you hear someone call out your name, turn around and smile softly at your best friend, Ava, short for Avalyn, to catch up to you. "Where are you running off to?" You take off your headphones and place it inside the case, "my morning class Ava! You got free time?" She shook her head, her keratin smooth hair swaying slightly at her movement, "I'm trying for cheer squad remember? I'm going for a practice session to get through the audition." You nodded your head in understanding, she had been trying to have a spot in the cheer squad for a while now, she's good at it you think, but you guess popularity plays a key role in getting into the team. 

She continued to walk by your side as she gushed about how she's getting better at cheering, you listened to her, that's what you usually do. You bid her goodbye and enter your class. The class went on as usual, nothing out of ordinary. You took notes of the things the professor said, then quietly packed your things to leave. You were placing the headphones in your ears when your eyes landed on a figure standing a few feet away from you, your steps halted and there he was, Jay. He was leaning against a pillar, nodding his head at the person talking with him, one hand raking through his already messy hair. His other hand was holding onto the strap of his guitar case. 

You watched him from the entrance of your class, occasionally sliding your finger on your phone screen to appear busy as you stole glances at him. Your eyes blinked a few times, not really believing the sight in front of you. He barely spoke, just nodded along the conversation with a blank expression on. He hadn't changed much, except he was now taller, his features more sharp, and more mature than you last remember. The sight of him made your heart skip a beat, maybe it was because you saw him after so many years or maybe because he hadn't left your mind even once since you had a talk with him at that high school party. 

He reminded you of the past version of yourself which you haven't really forgotten. A small crowd gathered around him, he sighed heavily. His eyes scanned around the area, you hid yourself behind the door of your class. You peeked from your place, your breath caught. He didn't notice you, of course he didn't. He excused himself as he started walking towards the opposite direction, the crowd following close behind him and that's when it hit you, how far both of your lives had drifted. There he was, in the spotlight, surrounded by people who admired him while you stood behind the class doors, in the shadows, wondering, watching.

"Where are you?" Ava's voice rang through your headphones as you ordered your coffee from a local coffee shop. You paid the cashier and thanked him as you made your way out of the shop, "at the coffee shop, I'm going out for a bit." You could imagine her pouting on the other side of the phone, her voice whiny, "why are you going out alone? I would have loved to accompany you, don't forget you have me by your side okay?" You pursed your lips as you nodded at her words then realizing she couldn't possibly see you, "I know Ava, but I can't always depend on you right?" She opened her mouth to protest, "you can depend on me, I'm your only friend." You frowned but didn't disagree with her, it was true that she was your only friend, she has been the only one who saw you and has been by your side since the university started and you're glad that she stood beside you and helped you. 

"I'll make it up to you okay?" She squealed at your remark, hanging up the phone before informing you about her nail appointment, your eyes unconsciously fell on your own hands, maybe you could get a manicure too. High school was hard after your breakup, with no one by your side but you got through it alone. Now, as you were older and wiser than your high school self, you started to enjoy your own company too. You sipped your coffee as you walked down the street, your feet leading you nowhere in particular when your eyes landed on the familiar mop of hair down the street. You stopped in your tracks, closing your eyes, you shook your head, when you opened your eyes there was no one in sight. You sighed, you're starting to hallucinate about Jay now, it wasn't good for your heart.

You continued your way down the street, ears picking up angry voices across the alleyway. You looked at your surroundings, not many people walk around nowadays. You told yourself you were just stretching your legs, but truthfully curiosity took the best of your senses and guided you across the alleyway where the voices became more clearer as you walked closer. You stood in the corner, your eyes squinting behind your glasses to take a closer look. "I want you to focus on your academics too, Jay. We don't want your silly little hobby to come in the way of your career." Your brows furrowed when your heart a high pitch feminine voice and a name so familiar you could write in your sleep. 

You crane your head to get a glimpse of the scene. There stood Jay, his head hung low as he avoided the eyes of two older people, presumably his mom and dad as they lectured him in front of their car. "Your music is taking up more of your time than your academics, don't forget you're going to be the hire of our business, the sooner you realize this the better it will be for you." Your heart sank as they went on and on about Jay's choices and how disappointed they are at him. Your eyes followed his parent's car as it left, then trailed towards the boy who now was crouched down on the road. He took a few rocks from the ground and threw them across the road, his face visibly contoured with hurt and anger. 

You took a step forward before deciding against it. You were eavesdropping, which you were sure wasn't welcomed with the scenario that unfolded right in front of your eyes, but watching him slump against the concrete wall, head between his hands, you wanted to comfort him, just like how he did when you were at your lowest. You wanted to help him, encourage him to not give up on his love for music just to satisfy his parents but with the image he had built around himself in the campus, it was impossible for you to just randomly show up to him to console. He would kill you with his stare before you even opened your mouth, so you decided to stay in the shadows and help him with his issues. By being a secret admirer, the book girlie inside of you was dancing in excitement.

Early morning in the campus was just how you imagined it would be, it carried a quiet kind of hush which felt too sacred to disturb. The sun had began to rise not long ago, casting long golden rays across the campus building, few of the students were scattered around the campus, you walked through the hallway which was nearly empty save for some lone students with headphones on or a book in hand, your footsteps were light but quick as you occasionally turned around to check in your surrounding. Your hands tightly clutched around your bag as you overworked your brain to map out the locker room in the building. You relaxed when you found the large 'Locker room' sign hung upon the metal rod, your eyes scanning the area nearby before entering inside. 

Few of the students were busy with their own things inside the room, none of them paying attention towards you. Your eyes scanned the area, feet moving towards the locker you were determined to find, you causally scanned the names on the lockers, totally nonchalant if anyone asked you. Your steps came to a halt when you came across the 'Park Jongseong' locker. Peeking your head at the entrance to check anyone's presence one last time, you hurriedly took out the letter you had neatly packed inside an envelope and slid it inside the locker from the small gap that was present. Your hands trembled, heartbeat erratic as you stepped away and started walking towards the cafeteria, your head hung low as you zipped your bag. 

You saw Jay pass by you with one of his band members, Heeseung, the vocalist as both of them animatedly chatted about something. Your eyes followed his features, he seemed to be far more relaxed as he laughed at something Heeseung said, that laugh almost reminded you of the night of the party. You wondered what they were doing in the campus early in the morning when your eyes landed on the new notice on the notice board along with various other banners which decorated the walls of the hallway. You stepped closer to have a clearer view of the notice displayed, Symphoria 25, the widely known college fest of your university. 

Your eyes went back to Jay and Heeseung who were now entering the locker room, their backs turned towards you. Symphoria, you'd heard a lot about the college fest, it draws in thousands of people not just from the campus but from the city and beyond. A perfect opportunity to showcase your talent and get exposure. Maybe Jay and his band had started early morning practice to perfect their art for the fest, it was inevitable that they would participate in the fest. You checked the time on your phone, you still had a good 20 minutes before your class started so you made your way back towards the locker room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jay to see if he got your letter or not. 

The hallway had started filling in with the usual chatter of students, as soon as you were about to enter the locker room you caught Jay coming out of the room and in a reckless way to avoid facing him you turned around to run in the opposite direction. But luck wasn't by your side and your leg slipped and you fell, right in front of Jay, and his friend Heeseung. "Are you okay?" You recognized Heeseung's voice as he extended his hand for you to take. A few of the students gathered to watch the commotion. Your head was hung low, and you prayed the universe to swallow you whole instead of letting you face humiliation. You held Heeseung's hand to stand up, then immediately let go and hid your face with both of your hands. 

Heeseung chuckled at your antics, finding your embarrassed self quite endearing, he looked at Jay whose eyes were trained on you, a subtle frown adorning his face, lips pursed together. Jay tilted his head as he watched, you peeked from the gaps in between your fingers, head still down, your eyes caught the sight of your letter in between his fingers, the letter still sealed neatly. "Hey don't be embarrassed, things like this happen every time," you turned towards Heeseung, your hands still on your face as you nodded at his words and bolted out of the place and towards your class. 

Heeseung's eyes followed you till you turned around the corner, confusion etched upon his face like a question scribbled in a language he wasn't proficient in. He turned towards Jay, who was also looking at the direction you just ran to, his expressions blank but with a hint of curiosity behind his eyes. "I guess she was too humiliated to wait and talk, I genuinely thought she did this to have our attention," Heeseung broke the silence, making Jay look towards him. Now one would paint Heeseung as a stuck up individual after what he said, but it wasn't a regular sight for any of their band members to not have girls lining up to have a conversation with them, you'd be the first to avoid them all together. He was genuinely confused with your actions.

Your footsteps echoed off the walls of the hallway in frantic rhythm. Your hair sticking on your face and bag bouncing off your side. You reached towards your classroom door, slowing down just enough to avoid getting slammed on it. You slipped inside and scanned the room for an empty seat. Your chest raised and fell as you sat on an empty seat, you took deep breaths to look composed but the flush of your cheeks and the way your hands gripped the edge of the desk betrayed you. The professor entered the class and began the lecture but your mind drifted off towards the incident that happened back in front of the locker room. You slammed your head on the desk lightly to avoid attention, grimacing about how humiliating the incident was.

"You look tired, did you not get enough sleep?" You glanced towards Ava, who was happily munching her food while her doe eyes stared at you, "Yeah, couldn't sleep." She pouted at your words, shoving your shoulder lightly, "you should take care of yourself more, you worry me so much, you don't have anyone else other than me who takes care of you." You smiled awkwardly at her statement, internally grimacing. Her words are always sweet like honey, the kind that drips with warmth and affection until you realize what comes next, like she's trying to convince you that your light only shines when she's with you. 

Your eyes wandered towards the cafeteria door when students started talking in hushed whispered and gasp, there they stood Heeseung, Jay, Jake and Sunghoon, the four members of band, HYPHENIX. Ava followed your gaze, vast smile etching on her face, "aren't they just dreamy? You think Sunghoon's single?" Your head turned towards her instinctively as her voice reached your ears, "since when are you interested in them?" You don't remember her gushing about the band before, sure they were pretty popular but Ava was too obsessed with cheer to ever focus on anything else. She just shrugged, not bothering to reply, you frowned, following her line of vision where Jay was seated with his bandmates. 

Your breath hitched when you spotted the familiar looking envelope in Jay's hand, the seal broken off, he had read the letter. Your eyes traced from his hands to his face, watching, observing, like you always do. Jake was talking about something while nudging Jay, Heeseung throwing his back as he laughed and Sunghoon just shook his head, amused by his friends. Jay smiled softly, his eyes still trained on the letter in his hands, playing with its edges gently. You haven't seen him smile like that ever since you saw him, his expressions always so distant and reserved, one would think twice before approaching him. You could tell you weren't the only person to witness it when you heard whispers around you. 

"Wow I never knew he could smile like that!", "so the icy guitarist of HYPHENIX knows how to smile?", "is that a letter in his hand? A love letter maybe?", "didn't think of him as the romantic type." 

You turned your head back towards your food when you felt Jay's gaze travel towards your table, you hid your face by keeping your palm over half of your face. "Oh my Jay's looking towards me," your eyes met Ava's as she exclaimed happily, gathering attention from a few of the students sitting nearby. More whispers started arising after her exclamation cause indeed Park Jay was looking towards your table, at who? You weren't sure. Your mind unconsciously drifted towards the time when you fell down in front of Heeseung and Jay, and you hoped he didn't remember how you looked.

"Yah Jay you keep on looking at the envelope like it will come alive and tell you who sent you this..." You were making your way towards the last class of the day when you heard Jay's name, looking up you saw the music room sign above the closed door. You walked towards the half opened window trying to listen to what they were talking about. From where you were perched up, you could see Jay's side profile, Jake standing in front of him, you could see half of Sunghoon's face and Heeseung's back, all huddled up with their respective instruments in their hands. "I really wanna know who wrote this, I mean their words hit so close, it instantly lifted his mood as soon as he read it," Heeseung followed as others nodded. Your heart skipped a beat, you stepped away from the window. They said he loved your letter, that it instantly lifted his mood. You smiled sheepishly, a new skip in your step as you made your way towards your class. 

Maybe you could continue to support him like this, silently, from afar, without the fear of getting rejected. He would be aware that there's someone who silently has his back, and you wouldn't have to worry about being the center of attention. And that's what you did, you wrote letters for him, every week. Words you couldn't say out loud found a home on paper wrapped in a plain envelope. You poured your admiration, your care, and all the quiet things you felt into the letters. You slipped them into his locker, or tucked between library books you knew he'd borrow, each note was a small piece of your heart, anonymous but sincere. You watched him smile at the words, never knowing they were yours. He would sometimes write back to you, placing his letters inside the library book he last borrowed and when he would come and check the next time, he would smile at its disappearance. He would know you got his letter when you'd mention it in your next one. And somehow, that was enough.

And the campus was big but apparently not big enough to keep your little secret in between you and him. It wasn't the letters that caught everyone's attention, it was him. Jay had always been stoic, guarded, the kind of person who kept people at arm's length, never too close but lately that shifted. He smiled more, his posture relaxed, he didn't shoot anyone with his icy glare for merely talking with him. He lingered longer near his locker, reading something in his hands. His bandmates noticed the recurrence of the letters first then few of his admirers. Questions flooded in their minds, was the guitarist of HYPHENIX finally seeing someone? Who would be the lucky person to capture the heart of someone who never showed interest in dating? And If he was getting interested in someone then who's this mystery person?

And then one afternoon, someone overheard Jay talking with Sunghoon, his voice low as he murmured something along the lines of, "I received yet another letter today, they just know what to say to make my heart skip a bit." Hushed conversations between close friends, fell upon wrong ears and soon enough the campus buzzed with new gossip about this secret admirer of Jay. The talk wasn't about Jay anymore, they were more about what made Jay change, about the anonymous person who poured their heart out on the letters, about how the coldest guy on the campus might have someone who has enough warmth that melts his walls. And how maybe, just maybe, he was starting to care about those letters more. 

With each letter you wrote, your feelings for him kept on getting more intense and with all the gossip surrounding you about your own letters you wondered how Jay would react if he ever found out who was behind those letters. It didn't help that Ava seemed to be getting more interested in Jay's love life than focusing on her cheerleading auditions. You had to constantly hear her gush about this mystery admirer of Jay and how an anonymous person was getting more recognition than she ever could even if she tried her best. "Popularity shouldn't be your goal, being good at what you do should be!" You remember explaining this to her when she kept on complaining about how privileged the popular people are with everything. 

She wasn't wrong entirely, everything around the campus depended upon how good you were with something and ultimately how much audience you bought with it. Maybe she wasn't wrong about not getting into cheerleading yet because she wasn't famous enough to make the cut and not because she was just decent enough for the sport. Ava is attractive, has friends from every block of the campus, yet she somehow always sticks to you. She goes to parties, easily becomes the center of the room but somehow it's not enough, it's never enough. There's always someone who is prettier, more talented, more popular who steals her show and you get her. Perhaps that's the reason you let her guide and lead your university life instead of trying and failing to meet new people who would befriend you. 

For the next few weeks when you walked down your campus, every corner was slowly transformed into a living stage. The air surrounding last-minute rehearsals, buzz of sound checks vibrating against your ear drums, every corner of the university was filled with excitement. Symphoria wasn't just a college fest, it was an emotion, a movement held towards rising artists and their talents. By day the fest was filled with different stalls, and artists showcasing their raw talents to sharpen it for the night show. By the time the night arrives, the main stage would come alive with performances that shake the ground. You were excited to attend the last show of the fest as it was the night HYPHENIX would perform, the most talked about and most awaited performance of the whole fest. 

You made your way towards the locker room early in the morning to place the letter inside for Jay to read before his performance. This time though, you had bought a little bouquet of red roses to cheer him up a little with a note that is addressed to him in case someone else misplaced it. You couldn't open his locker enough to put the flowers inside so you decided to keep it above the locker. You walked out of the locker room before anyone could see you, leaving letters inside his locker had gotten a bit difficult with all the attention from the campus. Yet you woke up extra early to not get caught and cheer Jay up for his performance. 

You made your way towards the library to finish the rest of your assignments, dropping a message to Ava about meeting you in the cafeteria during lunch. You sat down, opening your laptop to get started. The library was relatively empty, not many students were in the mood to study when there's literal fest going on around the campus. You wondered if Jay will even have time to open his locker today, you heard they had been practicing extra hard for this performance. Lunch time rolled around but Ava still didn't reply to your text, you tried calling but no answer so you ate alone. You made your way towards the locker room to check on the flowers and letters, when you reached there was none, it made you smile at the thought that he received it before his performance just how you wanted. 

The evening started off with a blast, you made your way near the left side of the main stage. You look around to find Ava in the crowd and even send a few messages of your location in case she decides to find you. You frowned at her behavior, she was so excited to attend today's show, some of her favorite people were performing, not to forget her constantly ranting about being excited to watch HYPHENIX's performance. They were the last act to perform, everyone from the campus gathered around to watch you with banners in their hands. You crane your head to see if they are coming. 

They walked on the stage, your eyes landed on Jay and suddenly the crowd didn't matter. They got in their position, the noise faded, the lights dimmed around everyone else but them and you stood frozen in your spot, eyes never leaving his silhouettes. Heeseung led up to the mic, the crowd erupted, waves of cheers and reckless energy filled up the air, but your eyes were locked on Jay. Jake, the drummer chimed in and suddenly the world was nothing but sound. Jay's guitar and Sunghoon's keyboard roared to life, drums thundered beneath your feet, and the music hit you like a memory you didn't know you'd been holding onto. It wasn't just some random noise pieced together, it was emotion, pouring from the stage and crashing into you like fire and rain.

You watched them, the way their fingers moved on their instruments, how Heeseung's voice danced a high note, how they closed their eyes like the song was something they felt, not just performed and in that moment, it felt personal like somehow, they were singing straight to you. The lights flashed on the stage, the chorus soared. People around you screamed and swayed, but you stood still, like you were spellbound. It was more than music. It was a moment you didn't want to end and in that moment, nothing existed but the stage, the sound, and the feeling of you falling deeper and deeper for Jay. 

You felt a wave of emotion so overwhelming that tears strung in your eyes, their performance ended and they bid their goodbyes. The crowd cheered, you were sure they would be the talk of campus if not city for a whole year. Jay looked happy as he made his way backstage and before you could think your feet led you towards the back of the stage to catch a glimpse of him, it was one of the important parts of his musical career after all, you could at least muster up the courage to congratulate him. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be bad to introduce yourself into his life as someone he once met at a random high school party. You were about to enter backstage when a volunteer bumped into you, all the papers in his hands flying everywhere. You managed to apologize to him as you helped him with the papers but your eyes were somewhere else, in search of a person you couldn't get a hold of. 

You made your way deeper into the back of the stage, volunteers and performers going on about their works. You located Jake and Sunghoon at the far corner of the stage, Heeseung sitting close beside as they wore brightest smiles and talked with each other about something. You tried finding Jay, your heart beating fast as you tried finding someone who would tell you about his whereabouts. "Uh-hello, do you know where Jay went? The guitarist from HYPHENIX?" The girl randomly pointed towards the exit of the backstage, you thanked her before following the direction she gave. As soon as you were out of the door, the coolness of the night air made you shiver. 

Your footsteps slowed, the moonlight casted a soft glow on your face, yet it was still relatively dark. You took a step forward, then another, then you heard voices, familiar and close. Your steps halted when you caught two silhouettes standing close to each other, then your world stopped. One second they were talking, Jay and Ava, the next second his hands were on her neck, pulling her close. Ava stepped forward, her hands reaching for his shirt to stabilize herself. Your hands didn't drop your phone, but it slipped a little in your grip as your breath stilled. A sharp pain sliced in your chest, the silence of the surroundings more louder than the ringing in your ears. 

It felt like someone pierced their hand in your heart and squeezed it without any care, like your soul has been ripped apart without any warning. You felt the kind of pain that didn't echo, it throbbed in your chest, deep and ugly. You blinked once, twice, then again for good measure, hoping and praying this was just an illusion, a misunderstanding but it wasn't. It was real. Jay and Ava, kissing each other like the world around them didn't exist anymore. You stood there, watching him hold her like he's afraid if she let go she'll disappear. Your eyes landed on the bouquet of red roses in Jay's hand, the one you brought for him, confusion and hurt etched upon your face, unable to comprehend anything.

Neither of them noticed your presence, they didn't see the way your hands trembled and how your lips parted slightly like your body was trying to breathe through the ache in your heart. They didn't see the way your eyes glossed over with a kind of hurt you knew would take years to heal. You took a step back, suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, the distant sound of people leaving the campus, the humid air, the floor beneath your shoes. You turned around, mind still hazy, eyes unfocused, you stepped on an empty water bottle. Then you hear a soft call of your name, you shut your eyes closed as if it would somehow help you disappear from the unwanted moment you tried to avoid. You heard footsteps coming closer and decided you couldn't possibly excuse your way out of this uncomfortable situation so you took a deep breath and turned back around. 

Your eyes landed on Jay before they could even acknowledge Ava, he tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched you. Ava's voice broke your attention from him, she made her way towards you, her arms enveloping one of yours as she beamed at Jay. "This is my best friend Jay," He smiled in your direction, your heart skipped a bit and Ava continued while looking at you, "I told him the truth, that I wrote those letters for him, I couldn't help myself from confessing to him after today's performance, you are proud of me right? I finally got the love of my life." You never once broke your gaze away from Jay as you listened to Ava go on and on about something which you both know she didn't do. You silently listened to her take the credit for the things you did, Jay's smile was wide as he looked at Ava and just like that you couldn't bring yourself to tell the truth.

"Let me drive you both home, it's too late to go by yourself." You sucked in a breath, your head turned towards Ava who nodded enthusiastically at Jay's suggestion. "I'll manage to go by myself, I don't really live too far," Jay shook his head at your words, "It's my responsibility to take care of my girlfriend's loved ones, wouldn't dream of getting on your bad side." Ava chuckled at Jay's words as she leaned against his arms, his own hands slipping on her shoulder pulling her close. You felt like throwing up, you needed answers. Jay pulled out his phone to inform his band members that he'll be leaving first and joining them later. 

Reluctantly you agreed with Jay after Ava forced you to say yes and now you were seated in the back of Jay's car as you watched him act lovey-dovey with his supposed secret admirer. Ava's home arrived first and Jay got off to kiss her goodbye, you sighed, lending your head on the window wondering how you were supposed to get through with this. Jay entered the car, you were still sitting on the backseat. He eyed you from the rearview, "I think I've seen you before." You looked at Jay when you heard his voice, contemplating on whether to tell him that he did see you before or not, "well, we go to the same campus...." You trailed off softly, not really minding if he could hear your answer or not, your mind was haywire with everything that happened today anyway. 

Jay took one last look at you before shaking his head, chuckling lightly and agreeing with your words. You sent a quick text to Ava about wanting to have a talk with her about the stunt she pulled and she replied she'll tell you tomorrow. You felt the car come to a halt and you straightened up, eyes taking in the familiar surroundings of your apartment, you thanked Jay but he stopped you. He got out of the car and towards your door and opened it, "you don't have to do all this, Jay." But you smiled at his sweet gesture regardless and got out of his car. He bid you goodbye and went off as you watched his car retrieve from your apartment's parking lot. 

You couldn't sleep the whole night, mind racing with all sorts of things. The sight of them kissing each other playing in front of your eyes like a mere flashback from a dream you wish you never had, cruelly brought to life. You tossed and turned in your bed, but neither the tears stopped nor did the hollow feeling creeping up your chest. You decided you can't take it anymore, your fingers tapping on Ava's number before you could think. It was late at night, her parents were probably asleep but they always had a soft spot for you. She picked up the phone on the last ring, her voice groggy. 

"What are you trying to do? We both know you didn't write those letters..." you heard some shuffling from her end, "right I didn't, but who cares?" You frowned at her nonchalant answer, "the one who wrote the letter might come forward and expose you Ava, it won't end well for you, did you not hear how Jay is?" She groaned at your words, "well if the person was brave enough they wouldn't have pulled this secret admirer shit, I need Jay to get in the cheer team, this is my chance." You sighed, rubbing your forehead as it had started aching, "your relationship is based on lies Ava, it won't do you good, trust me. You're hurting someone else while trying to reach your goals-" 

"Don't nag at me, I've already taken the leap so there's no going back, I like Jay and I want to be with him so let it go...just for once, for me, let it go please..." you sighed but stayed silent wondering if you were strong enough to watch Jay be with Ava when she clearly was using him just to gain popularity while pretending to be you, Ava continued when she didn't hear anything from your side, "I'm your best friend, I never asked you to do anything for me, please ignore what I did just this once, I'll treat him right I swear." You cut the call after talking to her for some more time, things got messier than they were supposed to be, and you wondered how things will unfold from now on. 

Earlier attending university was something you looked forward to as the constant chattering of students, the latest gossip, the various events and classes helped you ignore how lonely you actually were. But now everywhere you go, there is at least one person talking about the perfect couple Ava and Jay. You tried your best to ignore but you couldn't as Ava started gaining popularity now that Jay won't leave her side whenever he isn't with his bandmates. And you, despite wanting to lay low and finish your degree quietly, were unwillingly dragged into the Ava-Jay love drama since you were her so-called best friend. 

Being best friend of not so famous Ava was hard, but being her best friend after she got famous was harder. People randomly started approaching you to gain latest information about their relationship or how they behave out of the campus. They bombarded you with questions about Ava and what she liked and disliked, like you were some kind of assistant they could get information from. It was annoying, and downright disrespectful. You never wanted the spotlight but even if you did, you knew you wouldn't be happy by being labelled as someone's girlfriend's best friend. It was inconvenient at first, then it became blatantly dehumanizing when people started suggesting Ava to be with someone of her 'level' that you were just some charity case of a friend for her. What hurt you the most was Ava's reactions to those things, she just laughed with them, like she couldn't see how disrespectful people were towards you. So naturally you tried your best to ignore her and her 'well-wishers' all together. 

"Come on, don't be like that! Jay has told me to make sure you'll be present at the celebration party of their successful performance at the college fest, you know how big of a deal it is for him and his friends," you continued typing your essay as Ava sat on the edge of your bed, begging you to attend the party. "I'll see if I can go...I'm not sure though..." she stomped her feet as she made her way towards your desk, hands sliding into yours to get your attention on her, "please? We haven't spent time together since so long," you sighed, releasing her hold from your hand, "it's because you're always so busy with your cheer, or Jay, or your new friends and not because I don't have time for you." 

"It's not like that, you don't like being around people, I can't always cater to your needs right? You should be considerate towards me too, you're so mean," you close your laptop after saving your document and look at her as she begins gathering her things. "I didn't mean it like that Ava-" "I'll give you space, you don't seem to be in a good mood, think about your decision, I'll wait for you at the party and if you won't come I won't go either." You opened your mouth to say something but she was already out of the door. You put your head in your hands as you pulled at your hair, deciding sleeping would be best for now since you had class in early morning. 

Attending early morning class felt like stepping into a world half-asleep. Your brain lagged behind as the professor went on and on about topics you were too tired to pay attention to. One of your hands grip on the coffee cup like your life depends on it and other drawing doodles on the margins of the notebook you had opened to take notes. Your eyes hurt and stifle a yawn, thanking the universe when the professor concludes the class. You check your schedule, there's still a 30 minute gap before your next, maybe you could get a refill of your coffee to go on about your day. You smiled to yourself when you stepped out of the class, feeling accomplished that you managed to survive the morning class as you made your way towards the cafe near your university for your daily dose of coffee. 

"Hey!" You turned around halfway through the campus when you heard someone call out to you, "in a rush?" Jay waved at you as he made his way towards you, his guitar slung over one shoulder, his smile was easy-going as he finally stopped right in front of you. Sweat formed in your hands as you gulped, "you need something from me? I haven't heard from Ava since yesterday so I don't know where she is..." He laughed slightly, motioning you to continue your walk as he stepped beside you, "no, I'm not here to ask you about Ava, though I know I used to do that a lot but I'm here to talk with you about something else." You looked at him then immediately looked forward because how can you be this close to him and act sane? You adjusted your glasses on your face in nervousness. 

"Then what are you here for?" He looked at you, biting his lips in thought and you tore your eyes away to not stare for too long. "For the party...." you halted your steps when you reached the cafe, Jay opened the door and held it for you. You meekly thanked him before entering the cafe, "what about it?" Jay ordered his coffee and you ordered yours, he paid for both the drinks before you could even open your bag to get your purse. "After our performance at Symphoria, we've got quite a few gigs and events to perform at, not to forget it's the day Ava finally confessed to me about writing those letters," you suck in your breath as both of you made your way out of the cafe and back into the university's campus. 

He continued, "those letters have helped me a lot, I was going through a tough time but they helped me so much, and they also inspired us to deliver that performance at the fest. So the success of that performance means a lot to my bandmates, me and Ava alike, and since you're her best friend, I need you to be a part of it." He took a few strides forward and turned towards you making you stop your walk, "please? Attend it for me?" You sighed, attend it for Jay? Now you could do that, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to watch them without losing your sanity. "I'm not a party person, Jay and it doesn't help that Ava has other friends to be with, she won't always be by my side and I don't want to hold her back.." 

He shook his head dismissing your words before you could elaborate further on how pathetic you'd look trying to enjoy the party alone, a party you don't even want to be at, "I'll be by your side then, all throughout the party hm? I'll make sure you won't feel lonely, I promise." He held out his pinky finger in front of you and if you were being honest he looked so silly you wished you could click a picture but you just sighed, eyes switching from his hands to his face, he looked at you expectantly, "I take pinky promises seriously," the corners of your lips twitched a little as you raised your hand to lock your pinky finger with his. He pulled you close, grinning widely, "thank you for coming, Ava and I would love to have you there," he ruffled your hair before jogging off towards the university's music room. 

You faced the mirror, one last time, running your fingers through your hair, you opened your phone, Jay's and Ava's messages lying one above the other, both reminding you to not forget about the party. You fixed your glasses, a hint of irritation seeping in your features as you scanned your reflection, if you ditched your glasses for looks then you won't be able to enjoy the party in HD, but the glasses made you look like the loser you always need to read about in your books. You huffed a breath, reminding yourself about your no more stereotyping rule, your phone started buzzing. You looked at the caller ID, Ava. 

"Hey!" You put your phone away from your ear to recheck the called ID, still Ava, "hello?" You questioned as you chew on your lips, "it's me Jay...Ava's phone was in my hand so I called you from her phone, I asked Sunghoon to pick you up from your apartment and I think he would reach in 10 minutes or so, I just called to inform you that.." you heartbeat quickened after hearing Jay's voice, then you registered the words that left his mouth, "Sunghoon? In 10 minutes? I could've taken a cab, he didn't have to leave the party for me, I feel bad." You could hear the music blasting in the background and you wondered if he could even hear you, "nah, I wanted to come pick you up myself since I invited you but my hands are full right now so I asked Sunghoon, and I don't want you to travel alone in the dark, it's not safe out there. See you soon, Ava and I are waiting for you." 

You stood in front of your apartment building awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for Sunghoon's car to pull up. He didn't take much time, arriving fairly on time. He got out of his seat, his height making you take a few steps back so you don't have to hurt your neck while talking to him. He gave you a smile, his eyes landing on your heel-cladded feet before they locked once again with your eyes. You subconsciously tuck your hair behind your ear, blushing up your cheeks under his intense gaze. He offered you his hand, and you held it after looking at it for two seconds too long. He led you towards the passenger's seat, opened the door and guided you inside the car. You thanked him, a giddy smile plastered on your face as you reminded yourself that this was the supposed bare minimum, but then your thoughts went back to the same high school party where your then boyfriend didn't even look at you, much less open doors for you. 

Sunghoon's car reflected his personality, sleek, dark, and polished to perfection. The smell of leather seats of the car mixed with a faint scent of his cologne, and music turned low enough to barely register. You fasten your seatbelt and watch him start the car from your peripheral vision. He didn't say much, and from the time you've noticed him you realized he wasn't a man for many words but whenever he did speak, the attention would be on him. You let yourself relax on the seat and he glanced at your movements briefly. "Thank you for picking me up, you didn't have to, but thank you regardless," You saw him shake his head at your words, a small, barely visible smile dancing on his lips, "it's fine, wouldn't want a pretty girl like you to travel alone at night." You choked on the air, shocked at his words, he laughed loudly, his fang-like teeth showing just enough to make you question if he was just teasing or being serious. 

"You're teasing me, didn't think of you as a type to do that," He looked at your pouty face briefly before his attention went back onto the road, "you're easier to tease somehow, but I wasn't teasing when I said you're pretty." He didn't look at you to see your reaction, but your eyes were trained on his profile. His skin was pale, smooth like porcelain under the car's light, his lips full and precise, there was a cold grace to him, and even when he said nothing, he seemed to speak in presence, posture poised, expression unreadable, a flick of his gaze enough to silence a room. He got out of the car when he reached Jay's apartment where the party was in full blast, he helped you get out of the car and led you towards the main door of Jay's house.

"This place feels familiar," you mutter under your breath, Sunghoon looks at you, his head tilted in your direction, leaning in slightly to hear you better over the gradually increasing noise of music blasting through the speakers as you walk. You shake your head at him, laughing awkwardly as you try to figure out the weird feeling in your stomach. The door bursts open even before Sunghoon's hand stretches enough to open it for you, and your breath is knocked off as Jay stands in front of you, an easy going smile etched upon his face. "I'm glad you're here..." he smiles so bright that it's almost impossible to not mirror his smile, like he's genuinely glad you're there to celebrate. "I had to be," your eyes wander off towards Sunghoon who is now standing beside Jay, leaning on the doorframe watching you two, "you left me with little choices to make." 

Sunghoon lightly chuckled as those words left your mouth, shaking his lightly at your silent jab at Jay's stubborn behavior he made his way inside the house, leaving you standing alone with Jay. "Where's Ava?" You questioned when you didn't find her waiting for you beside Jay, he sighed, head turning back to look towards the ongoing party, "she must be somewhere, I still have her phone on me, but she's nowhere to be found." You frowned hearing his statement and he quickly made space for you to enter the party, "she gets like that after drinking, she wanders off and suddenly you lose track of her." Jay chuckled at your response still his eyes scanned to room for his girlfriend's presence. 

"Jay?" You softly called him, he hummed in return leaning slightly towards you to hear you better. You held your breath as you looked at him, his eyes still wandering across the room to find Ava but then slowly his eyes turned towards you, your lips twitched when his eyes locked in with yours and you gulped before continuing, "go find her, you don't really have to be by my side all night." Jay chuckled at your words, straightening up, he hooked his index finger on the bracelet of your wrist, "well you don't have anything else to do so please help me find my beloved girlfriend," and he pulled you with him into the crowd. 

You take in the scene, you spot some familiar faces in the crowd, laughing, drinking, talking with each other. Your heels tap against the floor and you walk exactly behind Jay as he makes room for both of you to walk. The lights flicker in bursts of neon, casting an exciting glow on the crowd. The buzz of conversations rise and fall, people too drunk or too indulgent in the mood to care about the surroundings. You catch a glimpse of Jake talking with some people, beside him Sunghoon and Heeseung are involved in deep conversation about something only they know. Your eyes fall upon where Jay's finger is hooked upon your bracelet, a sigh leaves your lips and in a moment of distraction your shoulder bumps into someone and you lose your balance slightly. 

You hold onto Jay's shoulder with one hand to regain your balance and he stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing towards the person you stumbled into, "try to look where you are going next time." The person just waves his hand, mumbling apologies incoherently as he backs off towards the opposite direction. You feel Jay's hand curl around your wrist, firmly and when you lift your head up, he's already looking at you. "You walk in front of me now, you're wearing heels, if you sprain your leg it will hurt like a bitch." You laugh slightly at his tone, his hand pulling you gently towards him and he positions himself right behind you. He's still holding your wrist, his other hand giving your shoulder a slight push to get you walking. 

He's so close behind, you could faintly feel his breath on your shoulder. Your eyes scan for your best friend and you turn around towards Jay when you spot her sitting in a corner with few people, drinking happily and laughing with her whole body, "she's there, I think you should get her, I'll get something to drink for myself in the kitchen." Jay's eyes follow the path your finger is pointed at, he sighed in relief, nodding in your direction and making his way towards her. You don't have the courage to watch him go towards her so you make your way inside the kitchen, your hand tracing the spot which Jay held not too long ago. You poured yourself some soft drink, not really in the mood to drink just yet.

"Are you a baby?" You flinched slightly, turning to your side only to find Sunghoon leaning against the counter not too far from you as he poured himself a drink. Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, he looks at you, slowly making his way close to you, "only babies drink soft drinks." You roll your eyes, free hand fixing your glasses. He chuckled lightly, amused at your behavior. "I'm not a baby Mr. Park," he laughed loudly, "that's exactly what a baby would say, your pouty lips and puffed up cheeks aren't helping your case pretty." You immediately straightened up, lips pursed and face blank as you gave him a deadpan look, "I'm not a baby..." He turned around towards the counter, he mixed a few drinks from the table and slided the red solo up towards you. 

"You don't seem like a type to drink frequently but trust me with this one, my friends say I'm quite good with drinks." You throw him a suspicious look, hand curling around the cup, you bring it closer to your face to inspect. "What are you both ?" Your head snapped towards the voice, Jay and Ava joining you two as Sunghoon settled beside you, his drink already half empty. "I'm trying to get her to loosen up a bit, she's always so tense." Jay's eyes narrow at his friend's words, "you don't have to drink if you don't want to," You shake your head at Jay's words and you're about to reply when Ava cuts you off, "oh my god! I've tried to get her to start drinking but she always declines me," then her eyes fall upon Sunghoon, a faint smirk forming on her lips.

"I literally made this in front of her, will you try it for me pretty? Just a taste, you won't have to continue to drink it if you don't like it." Ava's smile fell as soon as Sunghoon's attention shifted from her to you, his eyes soft as he looked at you expectantly. Jay sighed from where he was standing, his hand sliding across Ava's waist as he leaned his weight slightly on her, "Sunghoon, if she's not comfortable-" Sunghoon's hand reached forward towards your hand, which was sporting the red solo cup, he gently curled his fingers around your hand and brought the cup towards his mouth, never breaking eye contact with you as he took a sip from your cup, "there, I'm alive, now your turn, just a sip pretty." 

You exhaled a breath you didn't even know you were holding, fingers trembling slightly under Sunghoon's. You brought the cup near you, eyes darting around the other three before you took a tentative sip from the drink. Your eyes widened, a smirk forming on Sunghoon's face, "it'd good right?" You nodded your head with more enthusiasm than you initially wanted to show. Sunghoon laughed, releasing his hold from your hand, eyes falling upon the couple in front of him with smug confidence, "I told ya I'm good at it." Jay gave you a small smile, "you sure you like it?" You nodded your head again, taking yet another sip from the cup and gulping down the whole drink. Sunghoon whistled slowly, feeling proud of himself. 

Ava looked at you, "you never drink when I offer...you're so rude and mean to me." Jay sighed pulling her closer, "some people need guidance during their first drinks baby, Sunghoon is good at that. It's not about her being mean to you." From where you stood, you could tell Ava wanted this conversation to go like it did with other people, with them agreeing to every word that spilled from her cherry lips, "want me to make you another one?" You tore your eyes away from Ava and turned towards Sunghoon, "please? This is the first time I'm actually enjoying a drink." And just like that, the night stretched ahead, you smiled to yourself, anticipation settling deep inside you for the night. 

"You're tipsy, how many drinks did you have?" You were perched upon the balcony, looking over people who were playing in the pool and around it when Ava's voice cut through the silence. You hummed, standing up and leaning against the railings to have a good look at Jay's house. Your eyes trailed towards the other side of his backyard where people were roaming around, casually. "Is that a gazebo?" You muttered to yourself, leaning in more, squinting your eyes, your glasses slipping off a little. "You're going to fall down if you keep on leaning on the railings like that," you looked down towards the ground, Jay waving off his hand to signal you to back off a little. 

"I won't fall," you yelled back, laughing as you fixed your glasses back. Jay shook his head, one hand on his hips while the other massaged his temple, "come down, bring Ava with you." You pouted at his words but still stepped back, holding Ava's hand in yours, you dragged her towards the pool. "Hello ladies, wanna go for a swim?" You smiled at Jake when he approached you both, you released Ava's hand when Jay stood by her side. "Don't wanna," Ava whined as Jay tried to persuade her to join. You looked away, smiling at Jake as you swayed a little, he chuckled at your dazed out state and offered his hand for you to hold. "I'm good though, I don't need your support, but since you're being so nice and offering me your help, I'll take it." Jake laughed as he guided you towards the edge of the pool.

Heeseung joined you and Jake, offering you water, "you wanna go for a swim?" You denied Heeseung's suggestion, eyes looking at the pool as you pouted, "I can't swim." Jake mimicked your expressions, but he looked like a kicked puppy more than a sulky one. You laughed, stepping forward and pinching his cheeks, "you're cute Jake." His eyes widened at your actions before turning into an icy glare when Heeseung slumped forward trying to control his laughter. Jay, Ava and Sunghoon joined you three as the boys teased Jake and occasionally your non swimmer self. You felt at ease, you were expecting to be crying in your apartment by now but you were glad it wasn't like that. None of Jay's friends left you alone, each sharing some moments with you. And by spending your time with them you realized why they are so likeable.

You were sitting on one of the chairs by the pool, Ava still beside you. The boys were already playing in the pool, your eyes drifted towards Sunghoon and Heeseung who were now seated on the opposite edge of the pool making fun of Jake who was now being chased by Jay for trying to drown him. Sunghoon's eyes locked with yours and his lips moved to say something, in your own haze you couldn't comprehend what he was trying to say so you got up, edging closer towards the pool, "what did you say?" Sunghoon laughed at your confused self and you pouted. He opened his mouth to repeat what he said when you felt a pair of hands press hard against your back. 

Your heart stuttered, feet losing contact with the ground. Your confusion quickly turned into terror and the next thing you knew, your body hit the water. The water was colder than you expected, it swallowed you whole. The noises of the surrounding vanished, replied by a deafening silence. Your hands flailed, legs kicking in panic. Your lungs felt like they were going to collapse, your mouth filled with the taste of chlorine and fear. A pair of arms circled around your waist, pulling your body towards the surface. You gasped as you were finally able to breathe, your chest aching. Someone took off your glasses from your face, your hands grabbing onto the person's shoulder like you were afraid they would let go. 

You felt someone else chiming in to help, pushing you on the edge as few people surrounded you. Your vision slightly blurry as you tried to ground yourself, "Ava are you crazy? Why would you push your own best friend into the pool when you clearly know she can't swim?" You were sure that it was Sunghoon who yelled at Ava for her reckless behavior, your head turned towards your left to see Jay by your side, one of his hands was cradling your head while the other removed hair from your face. You turner your head towards the right where Sunghoon was still going off on Ava, her shoulders slumped as she tried to reason out, "I thought it would be fun-"

"Fun?" Ava's eyes turned towards you, her eyes widening at Jay's sharp tone. He helped you sit up straight, Jake crouching beside you to wrap you in a towel. You shivered, because of the water or Jay's expression, you didn't know. Jay helped you get up and sit down on the chair, your legs trembling slightly. His hand slipped around your waist. "Is this your idea of fun, Ava? She could've gotten into serious trouble if I wasn't swimming near her." You looked at her, wishing to find remorse in her eyes but all you saw was humiliation and anger as she glared at you. She turned around, making her way back into the house.

"I'm so sorry about that, you aren't hurt right?" You shook your head, lips trembling slightly, "I'm fine, just a little shock that's it." Jay nodded at your words, sighing as he took in his surroundings. "You guys go enjoy the party inside, I'll take care of this." He motioned Jake, Heeseung and Sunghoon to lead the crowd back inside. "Take care of yourself, yeah?" Sunghoon requested before going back inside with everyone else. "You aren't responsible for her actions, plus she didn't mean to do it in the wrong way, she's always been like that..." Jay's eyes snapped towards you in lightning speed, "that still doesn't mean what she did was right, you could've gotten seriously hurt." 

You shivered again when the wind passed by you, your head was starting to spin. "I'll bring you some dried clothes, you'll catch fever otherwise," You nodded at his words, your chest and throat aching. Jay lifted your face with his hand on your chin, your breath hitched at the proximity. He slipped on your glasses, adjusting it on your face for you. "Thank you," you mumbled, not daring to say it louder, "I can see you clearly now." Jay laughed, losing his balance on the chair, you extended your hand and he happily grabbed it to balance himself. "I'm glad you can see me now." You laughed with him, amused by everything that unfolded in today's party. 

You were perched on the bench beneath the tree on the university's campus. Scrolling through your phone in search of something to distract you while you wait for your next class to start. You looked up at the tree above you, its green leaves falling upon you inconveniently. You packed your belongings back in your bag, pocketed your phone and remembered you had to borrow some books from the library for research purposes. "You seem to be so at peace after wreaking havoc in my life," you turned towards the source of voice, frowning at the way Ava walked towards you, eyes scrutinizing your presence. "What are you saying?"

"The pool wasn't even that deep, Jay and his friends were swimming in it just fine, why did you have to overreact like that, do you even know how much Jay has been lecturing me about that incident?" Ava huffed as she reached near you, crossing her arms and waiting for your reply as if you were a murderer waiting for your conviction. "They could swim just fine because they knew how to swim, if that's your logic why didn't you jump in the pool? You also don't know how to swim right?" Her expression flattered, hands going on her hips as she scoffed at your words, "you know I care about you, I didn't do it because I wanted to harm you, yet I'm the bad guy here, how would I know you'd end up like that?" 

You rolled your eyes at her words, but the slight pity in your heart for her was overpowering your senses, "why would you even push me there in the first place?" She stomped her leg, pouting at you as if you denied her favorite candy, "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, tell Jay and his friends that you forgave me okay? Bye." You opened your mouth to say something but she was already walking away from you. Finding the boys wasn't very hard considering they spent most of their free time in the music room. You took in a deep breath before you knocked on the door. You pushed open the door, peeking in to see if it was occupied, Jake was the first person your eyes landed on, beside him sat Heeseung, both of them pausing mid-discussion. Sunghoon sat a few feet away, hands on his keyboard and beside him sat Jay, his guitar on his lap.

You stood at the doorway, not exactly sure why you even decided to entertain Ava's idea but you did it, so she won't have another reason to whine at you and also because you wanted to have some reason to be near Jay, even for a while. "Don't stand there looking like a lost puppy, you planning on coming in?" Your internal monologue ended quickly as Heeseung words rang in your ears. You awkwardly shuffled inside, closing the door behind. "Um-" You started, internally criticising yourself for not thinking through before you entered. Your eyes wandered towards the boys sitting in the room, four pairs of eyes, all focused towards you. 

"Come sit here pretty," blush rose upon your cheeks as Sunghoon pointed towards the empty chair beside Jay, you nodded sheepishly, and made yourself comfortable. You were about to start saying something when your eyes landed on them, everyone just went back on doing what they were doing previously like you weren't present there at all, your brows furrowed in confusion and you wondered if you should say what you wanted to say or just slip out of the room. "Guys-" And just like that, everyone's attention was back on you, "yeah?" Jake urged you to continue and you shifted in your seat to turn towards Jay.

"I just wanted to say that the pool incident wasn't that big of a deal, things like that happen when you're trying to play pranks with your friends anyway," you laughed awkwardly, "I don't want you to be upset with Ava because of that." There was a brief moment of silence after you finished what you wanted to say, the silent stretching long enough for you to start rambling again, "she's a very good friend, she has always been by my side when I had no one, she can be a bit childish at times but she's sweet at heart-" "Are you trying to tell that to us or yourself pretty?" 

"You, ofcourse." You answered quickly, but fidgeting with your hands was a dead giveaway of your real feelings. Jay put his guitar at his side, sighing once before turning to look at you, "did Ava ask you to do this?" You shook your head no, one hand raising to fix your glasses in place. "I saw you talking with her-" "Oh my God, you did?" "I was lying but you busted your own lie with this one." Your shoulders slumped in defeat, "okay maybe I did come to you because she told me but I was about to do that regardless." You blinked at them, smiling and waiting for them to say something, "you wounded me, we thought you wanted to hangout with us." Your eyes widened at Jake's words, "why would I want to hang out with you guys?"

Heeseung's hand clutched his heart, slouching forward as if it physically pained him to hear that sentence leave your mouth, Jake's hands flew on his mouth, Jay had an amused grin on his face and Sunghoon just smirked, "I'm sorry we aren't cool enough for you to hangout with us pretty.." he laughed watching color drain off your face. "No, it's not like that- I mean- wait you guys- you're twisting the plot, I'm not Regina George!" You sulked slightly, crossing your arms as you watched them topple over laughing at your panicked state, "I just wanted to say that I did not think you guys would want to hang out, since you know...we aren't close, I'm just Ava's best friend."

"You could be my best friend if you want," Jake smiled, throwing an exaggerated wink in your direction, you laugh as he threw his finger hearts. "Seriously though, you're not just Ava's best friend, you're fun on your own okay? Why wouldn't we want to hang out with you, we literally let you in the music room without further interrogating you!" A genuine smile tugged at your face at Heeseung's words, which stretched into a full blown grin when the others nodded their heads in agreement. "And what Ava did was wrong, and she should have apologized to you then and there but she didn't, which was again, very wrong of her." You couldn't bring yourself to deny Sunghoon's words.

Your eyes fell upon Jay who was silent all through this portion of conversation, he sat still, eyes unfocused as he stared ahead, his brows furrowed. You could tell he was listening but had his mind somewhere else, "Jay?" Your soft voice brought him back from his thoughts, he looked into your eyes, "Let's just move past this, guys..." and no one could bring themselves to debate with you further. "It's my birthday in two weeks, we're planning a trip, I was hoping you'll join us.." You pointed your index finger towards yourself, as if anyone inviting you for their birthday was something you had only thought of in your luxury dreams list, Sunghoon gave you a deadpan look, "who else?" Yeah that gave you the answer you were looking for. 

The trip to Jay's birthday arrived more quickly than you could decipher. Jake informed you that the trip was more like a staycation on Jay's vacation home, from the moment you arrived at Jay's vacation home you knew you've stepped into something exquisite. The gated driveway winds through lush green gardens until the villa reveals itself, the sleek architecture, coastal elegance and everything about it screams luxury. As Jay pushed open the grand double doors, you're greeted by high vaulted ceilings, polished marble floors, and floor-to-ceiling glass panels that blur the line between indoors and the shimmering ocean beyond, you could hear Ava gasp from where she was standing beside you, Heeseung just chuckled, nudging you to go forward. 

The scent of the ocean lingered in the air, and Jay informed everyone about their sleeping arrangements. "Everyone gets their own room?" Jake chuckled at your bewildered, stepping closer to help you put the luggage in your room. You made your way through the open-living room plan towards the first floor where your room would be. You, Heeseung and Sunghoon would be sleeping on the first floor whilst Jake, Jay and Ava would be on the ground floor. When everyone was done checking out the interior, your footsteps took you towards the exterior of the house, where the real magic lied. 

A pathway of natural stone leads directly to the secluded beach. The sand is soft, untouched and the water crystal clear. There was not a single soul in sight, only the rhythmic lull of waves and the occasional cry of a distant seagull. "Wow, baby! This is literal heaven," your eyes wandered towards Ava who was now clinging onto Jay's arms like he would disappear if she let go. He smiled back at her, ruffling her hair as he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. You looked away, towards the beach where waves crashed into the shore in a gentle kiss. Your chest tightened, a small frown appearing on your face unintentionally. "You good pretty?" Sunghoon nudged your shoulders with his, his gaze trained towards the serene beauty in front of his eyes. "Yes I am-" "Let's see the beach from up front," before you could reply to Sunghoon you felt yourself getting dragged towards the beach by Ava, Jay shouting behind you to be careful. You looked back, Sunghoon giving you an amused look before retreating his steps back into the villa. 

Jake called you back after sometime, deciding that since it was already late, everyone could eat the dinner and sleep away the exhaustion to properly enjoy tomorrow. Everyone wordlessly agreed, too tired to explore further. Everyone bid their goodbye. You went into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water before you went back into your room, your footsteps light. You poured yourself some water, taking a water bottle with you since you felt too lazy to get out of your room again. You slowly made your way towards the staircase leading towards the first floor when you heard light giggles. Your head turned towards the voices instinctively. 

Jay had Ava backed up against the wall in between their rooms, their limbs tangled together with a quiet urgency. Jay kissed her like he was falling, fast and fearless and she kissed him back like she knew how to catch, but never intended to. Jay's hand moved from her waist to the door handle, opening it and backing Ava into her room. The door clicked shut behind them, and you still stood there, watching, like you always did. You gripped the bottle tightly, heart heavy and hollow at the same time. You made your way inside your room before your tear could manage to escape. The door clicked shut behind you with more force than you intended but you didn't care, not at this moment when the world around you felt like it was caving in. 

"Someone help me with the drinks!" You yelled out to no one in particular as you watched everyone just beeline towards the beach. You put your hand above your head, eyes squinting at the sun. You internally thanked yourself for opting to wear lenses instead, beach and glasses would be a disastrous combination, "let me help you.." You turned towards Jay who slowly made his way towards you. He smiled, taking the box of drinks from your hand and signalling his head towards the lighter box instead. "I would've asked the boys to help with these, you didn't have to help with this." You shook your head, adjusting the box in your hands, "no worries, but if I collapsed right now, tell my parents I died a hero."

Jay's eyebrows rose at your remark, a slight smirk gracing upon his face, "by carrying a box of drinks? How noble. I would crave 'Gone too soon- by a box of Cola' on your tombstone." You huffed a breath, "are you sure we are not hazed? Why does this feel like a punishment?" Jay grinned clearly enjoying your suffering, "I think they went in first to avoid this exact trouble, we were set up." You just shook your head at his words, setting the boxes near each other, Jay ruffled your hair, then Ava called his name and he waved at you before running towards her.

The sun is warm against your skin as you step into the soft sand, the ocean glittering ahead. Around you the world felt lazy and dripped in golden hue but you couldn't shake away the heaviness of your heart. Jake and Sunghoon were already waist-deep in the ocean, calling out the rest of you to join them. Heeseung reclined on a lounge chair, under a fluttering umbrella. Oversized sunglasses perched upon his face as he smirked at the boys playing in the water. Your eyes travelled towards Jay and Ava, who sat a few feet away from you on a shared blanket, their silhouettes framed by the glow of the sun. Ava leaned into him, laughing at something he whispered in her ears. 

You knew it was better to look away, that ignorance was the only choice you had in this situation, but you couldn't bring yourself to do that. But your eyes stayed fixed on the way his fingers gently brush a strand of her hair away from her face, and how she leaned her head on his shoulder like she belonged there and maybe she does. You watched as Jay lay down on his stomach, and Ava on her back, his eyes closed as his hand circled around her waist. You wished you could just walk up to him, sitting beside him as your fingers traced your name on his back, not to claim or to mark but to belong, even just for a fleeting moment. But you don't move, you just watch as she calls his name when he runs off towards the boys to play in the water. 

"You aren't getting spared just because you are busy daydreaming in your own world, pretty." You screamed as you felt Sunghoon pick you up bridal style and run towards the beach as he spoke. "Yah, you know I can't swim." You tried kicking your legs to get him to put you down but there was no real fight in your attacks, "I know, that's why I'll be near you when you play! Trust me pretty." And with that Sunghoon jumped into the water with his still in his arms. Jake and Heeseung joined you two and helped you with splashing water on Sunghoon's face. 

"You're doing good pretty, just hold onto me tight." Your hands were on Sunghoon's shoulder while he had his on your waist as he guided you deeper into the ocean. You shrieked when you couldn't feel anything beneath your feet and his hold tightened around you, his arms now circling around your waist as he pulled you close. Jay watched both of you pinch Sunghoon's ears for his clumsy actions, something twisted low in his stomach and he couldn't explain why watching you both play together made his fingers tighten around Ava's waist. "Jay, it hurts." His attention went back to his girlfriend who looked at him with a questioning gaze, he shook his head, his fingers soothing the skin on her waist as a silent apology. 

"Alright, it's enough for the day, let's get back to have dinner." Your head turned towards Heeseung's voice, you walked up to him, others following close behind. "Had your fun?" He asked, one of his eyebrows arching as he spoke, you nodded your head as both of you fell into a casual conversation. "Okay how about we split the chores?" Ava groaned as Sunghoon's suggestion, clearly displeased. She leaned her weight on Jay, blinking up at him as she pouted, "I'm too tired to help..." Sunghoon scoffed unintentionally and Jake's coughed in his elbow to mask his laughter. "You just laid there on the beach and did nothing but you're tired?" Jay threw a glance at Sunghoon, clearly intending to make him shut up, then he looked at you, his eyes soft, "both of you go rest, we will call when everything's ready okay?"

Ava lit up, reaching up to kiss his cheek she ran inside the house and into her room, without a single glance towards the mess everyone was left with. You heard Jake sigh softly beside you, looking at the mess, hands on his hips. You stepped closer, bumping your hips with his, "how about Jay and Heeseung take care of cooking, Sunghoon can take care of collecting the empty drink bottles and both of us will clear the garbage?" He grinned at you, clearly pleased with your suggestion when Jay's voice cut through the air, "we will handle it, you should go and rest, you helped earlier too." You shook your head at his words, "I want to help, so please let me, and the more people are helping the sooner this will be over." You smiled as you pushed Jake towards the cleaning supplements to get started. 

"Wow this took longer than we thought," you straightened your back, nodding your head at Jake's complaints. The sun had set and the moonlight casted a soft glow on the ocean. The streetlights were turned on and everything looked straight out of a movie. "We're done with dinner!" You looked at Jake who mirrored your smile, "first one to reach the kitchen is the loser!" You said as you ran towards the kitchen, Jake followed close behind as he complained about you getting a headstart. You laughed when he reached the kitchen first, giving Heeseung a jumpscare when he bumped into him. You laughed at his proud face, enjoying yourself more than you thought when Jay's voice cut in, "Ava's still sleeping, I'll bring her dinner later, let's get fresh and then we will eat."

Dinner was spent with Sunghoon and Jay's bickering while Heeseung just laughed at his friend's banter. Laughter echoed over clinking cutlery, voices overlapping and plates passing with casual affection. "I literally said the first person to reach the kitchen is the loser." Sunghoon laughed loudly at Jake's bewildered face, his eyes round and big as he looked at you, "you're so mean.." You reached out and ruffled his head, cooing at his whiny self, "your fault for not listening properly." He slumped against the chair, giving you faux glasses as other's made fun of him. 

"We're sleeping early?" Jay questioned when everyone started complaining about being tired, a gentle frown etching on his face as he looked at you all. Sunghoon nodded his head, "Ava hasn't eaten since afternoon, so feed your girl, we will sleep too now, all the cleaning is finally creeping up on me." Heeseung, Jake and you religiously nodded, making Jay sigh as he prepared a plate for Ava and made his way into her room. "Let's get the cake and other things ready, I believe he will be occupied enough till we get things done," Heeseung whispered as soon as the door clicked shut behind Jay and everyone started preparing for the birthday boy's surprise. 

"Okay, I believe we are ready, are we ready?" Jake whispered, box of cake in his hands, beside him stood Heeseung and Sunghoon who had party poppers in their hands. You were given the responsibility to record the moment. You focused the camera on the cake, then slowly backing away to capture all three of them in a single shot. You softly giggled looking at them, a big grin plastered on your face as you recorded them. All four of you were wearing birthday hats, and you couldn't help but coo at how cute the three boys looked. In one of your hands were two birthday hats, one of them extra large since it was meant for Jay. You looked at the timing, signalling them it was time for all of you to huddle outside Ava's room. 

You knocked on the door, waiting patiently for Jay to open it. You wondered if giving Jay a surprise while Ava wasn't involved in it was a good idea or not but the plan to surprise was spontaneous, the one which you made while you were cleaning, later Sunghoon informed Heeseung about it when he found him alone. Ava never got out of her room, so you figured it wasn't anyone's fault she wasn't involved. Your heart drummed against your ribs, mind swirling with thoughts that if you catch them in their intimate moments, you couldn't bring yourself to handle that scene again. But all your thoughts flew out of your mind when the door swung open and Jay emerged from the door looking confused. 

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY JONGSEONG!!!" All four of you screamed, confetti flying everywhere as Jay laughed, completely amused at the little surprise his friends pulled. Sunghoon took the large hat from your hand and placed it neatly on Jay's head. Ava emerged from the room, her hair messy and she was barely awake. You passed the phone to Heeseung and placed one hat on her head. Jay cut the cake, and the rest of the night was filled with questions from Jay about the surprise and what all went down while preparing. Heeseung apologized to Ava for excluding her from the surprise as he explained how the plan was spontaneous and no one got any opportunity to approach her. She smiled at him as she waved his concern off, but when the little party was almost over you could feel her mood getting sour as she looked at you. 

You got comfortable on the bed, sighing in relief as your body relaxed. You turned to your side, pulling the blanket closer, you slipped into sleep the moment you closed your eyes, body too drained to resist it. For a while everything around you stilled, the noise, the thoughts, even the time. But after few hours, something stirred, and your eyes blinked open, heart and mind racing. You're half-awake, half-dazed, your body begging you to just go back to sleep. You tried going back to sleep, but it was too late to go back to how it felt before. You got off from the bed and made your way downstairs, maybe Some fresh air would help you with the sleep. 

You stepped out of the villa, the air around you lighter and cooler. You made your way towards the narrow stone path, leading you towards the quiet overlook by the cliffside, where the ocean stretches endlessly below. The sky opened with each step you took, you breathe in the air, the wind gently caressing your body. "What are you doing here this late?" You jumped slightly, heart skipping before your mind caught up but you didn't move. Jay stepped beside you, leaning against the railings of the overlook, his eyes trained on your face as you looked ahead. "Couldn't sleep," you whispered, not wanting to break the serenity of the moment. 

"Something's on your mind?" You finally looked at him, his shirt was slightly crumpled, hair disheveled, his fingers twitched once before he clasped his hands together in stillness, his gaze was hard even though he looked composed from the outside, "you're angry, what happened?" The words left your mouth before your brain could catch up and your lips trembled as he locked his eyes with you. "I'm not angry," he stuttered lightly, clearing his throat and you looked away, biting your lips. "It's Ava right? Wanna talk about it?" He sighed, looking up towards the sky then back at you, contemplating whether he should talk to you about it or not.

"She got angry at me since she couldn't wish me at sharp 12..." You eyes widened at his words, disbelief gracing your face at the sheer absurdity of the situation, he looked at you, sitting down and motioning you to join him, and when you did, he continued, "I was so shock, she was in a sour mood, she wasn't even looking at me when I tried to approach her so I asked her till she told me why she was acting that way," you silently listened to him, feeling bad that he got into such situation on his birthday, "she has always been like that, there was a time when I didn't pick up her call at 12 AM sharp on my birthday cause I slept and she didn't talk to me whole day," you chuckled lightly. 

"Is laughing your type of coping mechanism? Considering she's your only friend, and she didn't talk with you on your birthday, doesn't that make her a bad friend?" His questions caught you off guard and you coughed to reduce the awkward tension it rose in the air. "She'll come around, Jay." He looked at you like he was trying to search for some answers he knew you wouldn't verbally give him, "can I share something with you?" His voice was soft as he asked you that and you nodded your head, not finding the courage in you to decline his request. "You're the only person I'm sharing this with, I know you're her best friend so you should probably be the last person I'm saying this to, but from the time I've known you, I know there's no one better than you who would understand me...."

You nodded your head at him to continue, he looked around, his shoulders slumping slightly, "I feel like the Ava in front of me is so different from the girl who used to send me letters..." your stomach dropped at his words, you didn't say anything, you kept your face still but your inside twisted but still you forced a hesitant nod, "like she's very sweet, but the kind of person I imagined her to be, the kind of person I fell for is so different from the reality. We have our sweet moments but they don't feel real to me," he played with his fingers, head hung low, "whenever I try to talk to her about the letters she diverts the topic by saying what matters is the present, her letters always used to see through me, I felt seen in those letter, I didn't even have to say anything but her letters told me they understood regardless, but it isn't the same anymore, it feel so unreal."

"Jay," you sighed wondering what words would even bring peace to his heart, you wanted to tell him the truth, that it was you who wrote those letters and not Ava, but you couldn't bring yourself to confess that. "You're her best friend but I keep on complaining about her behavior to you, don't snitch on me," he pointed a finger at you, "please?" You laughed at his actions, "I won't tell her about this, I promise." He looked at you, eyes squinting as if he didn't believe in your words, "pinky promise?" You stretched your pinky finger towards him and his eyes lit up as he hooked his pinky finger with you. 

Jay looked at the ocean in front of him, "relationships are more complicated than I thought they would be." You nudge your shoulders with him to cheer him up a bit, "tell me about it..." you rolled your eyes, standing up and extending your hand to him, the sun would start to rise after sometime and it would be better if you head back so you'd have enough energy to travel back home tomorrow. He held your hand to pull himself up, dusting his pants a bit. Both of you just walked back in without any conversation, the silence more comfortable in between you. "Let's grab something to drink before we go to bed," you nodded, letting yourself be a little bit more selfish for wanting to spend time with him.

The light of the refrigerator drapes a soft glow on his face, highlighting the curve of his sharp jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, his messy hair which somehow still looks perfect to you. And he looks calm, thoughtful even like your heart isn't shattering into pieces right beside him. You took a few steps back, leaning against the counter, pretending to look at something on your phone but your eyes are trained on him. On the way his brows squint slightly to decide which drink to choose, the way he quietly mumbles to himself as if he belongs to a place which is softer, quieter. And you love him. God, you love him. 

You swallow the lump forming in your throat, try to tear your eyes from his frame, to have some mercy on your heart. You wish you didn't feel this way, wished you never wrote those letters and kept your love hidden deep in your heart. You wished he would just turn around and look at you like you aren't just his girlfriend's best friend but someone who was actually meant to be his. And he turns around and looks at you, flashing you a quick smile, and it shatters you because it's the kind of smile he gives to everyone, and not the one you're dying to get, the kind he has reserved only for Ava. But you smile back, you pretend like you're not falling apart under refrigerator light for a boy who has no idea what he has gotten himself into. 

He makes his way towards you, now handing you a soft drink and leaning right beside you. He takes a sip, humming lightly as if he hasn't tasted the same drink countless times today. "So," he started, putting the drink on the counter and turning towards you, "did you break up with your boyfriend?" You choked on the drink at his random question before calming yourself, "what boyfriend?" You tilted your head as you waited for him to answer, he just shrugged, "the one who humiliated you in my birthday party some years ago in high school." Your jaw dropped before you could stop it, "you remember that? And it was your birthday party?" 

He nodded his head, finding your reaction amusing, "I was wondering when you'd say something about it but you didn't." You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again when you couldn't find the words, "so did you break up with him?" You nodded your head at him, "yeah, just after I reached home, I broke up with him and never looked back. I realized it after so long that deep down I knew he wasn't treating me right, I just wanted someone else to remind me of that and you did." His eyebrows arched at your words, his lips twitching into a smile, "guess you owe me a big one then," You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder a bit, "in your dreams Jay."

He laughed at your words, now taking both of your drinks and throwing it in the bin, "I'm glad that I met you, I don't think I'd be here if I didn't meet you that day." He smiled softly at your words, turning towards you, he stepped closer, "I'm glad you're here too, I feel so relaxed right now, it's amusing really..." you tilt your head at him, "what's so amusing?" His eyes went back and forth from your face then to the ground a couple of times, wondering if he should say what he wanted to, "hm? Jay?" He sighed, clearing his throat a little bit, "this," he said, waving his hands in between you two, "what's this?" You chuckled, finding his hesitation endearing. "This thing in between us, it feels," you stepped closer, nodding your head at him to continue, "it feels what Jay?" "Real. It feels real." 

"Pretty I feel like Jay's birthday this year is going to be very eventful," you and Sunghoon were sitting on the kitchen island, eating fruits, Ava insisted Jay to spend some alone time with her before you go back home so they were out, Heeseung and Jake were still sleeping. "Why's that?" You questioned as you took a bite of watermelon. "Jay said Ava was upset we didn't involve her in the surprise, which doesn't make sense cause Heeseung apologized for it and gave her genuine reason, right?" You nodded and he continued, "but I believe they got into an argument or something, Jay's been tense but he said that Ava wanted to throw a surprise for him too, all alone, and he agreed because he said it would make her happy."

You hummed in response, knowing well that Ava has a habit of bringing attention towards her in any situation, so it was inevitable that she would ask Jay to do something like that. Surprise for Jay sounded good too, they had been dating for months so she must've had something in her mind. "Let her have her moment, despite the reasons we could've texted her or something but we managed within ourselves so let her show her love towards him the way she wants." Sunghoon nodded, silently agreeing with you as he ate the apple, "I hope everything will go well, she didn't even ask any of us for help," you sighed at his words, praying everything would go well. 

Now you're dressing up for the surprise Ava had planned for Jay, she called everyone to the living room when both of them returned from their little outing and informed everyone to dress up nicely after you reached back home and meet in her parent's house since they were out on a business trip, he seemed quite excited about it. You hoped it would live up to his expectations and not end in yet another argument. You sighed watching yourself in the mirror, one hand holding the glasses while the other the lenses. You put the glasses down deciding lenses would be a great option if Ava or for that matter anyone else thought about pushing you into the pool again, you'd at least be able to see your downfall clearly. 

You asked Ava if she needed your help and she just shrugged, declining your offer and throwing a snarky comment at you, something along the lines of, "wouldn't want anyone else to take credit for what I am going to do for him." And you just hummed, not wanting to trigger her more by reminding her that of course she'd fear someone else taking credit given that she has done the same to date Jay. Those words sounded very rich coming from her, the hypocrisy was astonishing. You texted Sunghoon the address of Ava's parent's house and asked him to forward it to the other boys. 

Your eyes fell upon the clock, and you grabbed your things, booking a cab and texting Sunghoon that you'd reach the house in 20 minutes. He texted a thumbs up emoji, informing you that they would arrive at the house around that time too. You leaned against the car seat, watching the other vehicles pass by you in a rushed blur. Your heart thumped in your chest for some reason and you took a few deep breaths to calm the nerves down. It was inevitable you'd feel anxious, it's all you had been feeling ever since Ava started dating Jay, you were mentally preparing yourself to watch them being all lovey dovey in front of you without having a breakdown yourself. 

You arrive at the house, a small envelope in your hand, the evening sky painted in hues of pink and yellows. When you reached the door of the house, you could hear faint chatter from inside the room. You hesitate, glancing down at the envelope with Jay's name written on it and then back up at the faint lights flashing through the living room's curtains. You frowned, texting Ava about your arrival, you twisted the door open after you got a signal from her and stepped inside. You were still standing near the entrance of the house, the house was pitch dark, but still you could hear some murmurs, more clearer than before. 

The door behind you swung open, the night air brushing your skin as you turned around to find Jay hesitantly step inside, one hand clutching his phone and the other the door. His silhouette was half-hidden in the shadow. Behind him stood Sunghoon, Heeseung and Jake, anticipation etched on their faces. Someone behind you switched on the lights and Jay blinked, first because of the lights and then towards the crowd in front of him. You heard someone gasp from behind you, "Jay is here," and a loud chorus of "SURPRISE" erupted in the previously silence-filled house. Confetti exploded through the poppers, the music volume rising up like inflation. 

Ava's shoulder brushed against yours as she ran towards Jay to hug him, he hugged her back, blinking in confusion. The other three entered the house from the corner, Sunghoon throwing a worried look towards Heeseung who silently hushed him. Jake's eyes locked with yours as he passed by you, then he turned towards his other friends to whisper something. Jay smiled tightly when Ava dragged him towards the mini stage where she kept the cake for him. And his eyes found yours before Ava cupped his cheek to give him a birthday kiss. The music stopped and Ava gathered everyone's attention, "Today's my lovely boyfriend's birthday so first we will cut the cake and then we can continue with the celebration."

Loud cheer erupted at her words, you kept your gift on the corner where everyone else kept theirs and made your way towards the mini stage where others were already present. Ava cheered loudly, a bright smile adorning her face as she took off the cover from the cake, a towering, picture-perfect chocolate cake, glossy with ganache, topped with sparklers and gold-letter candles spelling his name. His smile flattered for a second before he masked it with his politeness. "Ava," he whispered quietly, eyes darting towards the people watching each of his actions in anticipation, "I'm allergic to chocolate." You could see the color drained from Ava's face as she looked around at others. "I ordered a vanilla cake, the bakery may have misplaced my order." She pouted, clinging onto his arms as other people gave her words of sympathy that it's the thought that counts. 

You were sitting on the couch beside Sunghoon, in front of you sat Jay and Ava, the music blasted in your ears, but you could still decipher the conversations going around you. Jay tapped his foot repeatedly against the ground, his shoulders tensed as he took a sip from his cup. "You're repeatedly tapping your foot on the ground, if you wanna dance, you could've just said so, come on, let's dance." You could see Jay froze at her words but didn't really resist when she dragged him towards the dance floor. You watch as Ava laughs, all bright and confident, clearly proud of the party she has thrown. You could see her dress sparkle and sway with her. One of her hands was clasped around Jay's wrist and the other waved the crowd off to make some space for them. 

You could see the way his shoulders sank when he reached the center of the dance floor, the way his eyes were scanning the room, over the crowd as if he was checking the exits. Ava pulled him closed, dancing around him carefree and unbothered. She turned around to face him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, she leans in for a kiss and he obliges, people cheer around them, flashing on camera making you blind. And he laughed when they pulled apart, hands on her waist as she sways. Your heart tugs a little, with sadness or jealousy you aren't really sure, cause you know Jay prefers to spend his birthday around his loved ones, intimately and not amongst the crowd. You know, because he had mentioned about it in one of his letters. 

"You do realize he is not the one you're supposed to be looking at, right?" You jumped at Sunghoon's voice, "huh? What?" He shook his head as he leaned back on the couch, your eyes following his actions, "Jay," he started, taking a look at him briefly before looking at you again, "you aren't supposed to look at your best friend's boyfriend with that intensity in your eyes, what happened to the girl code?" You choked on the air, rubbing the area just above your chest to soothe your breathing. "I'm not staring at him," you glared, clearly caught off guard by his observation, "yeah and I'm Michael Jackson," you rolled your eyes, leaning against the couch, "you're reaching, I was just looking at them dance together," Sunghoon smirked leaning close to your face, "without blinking? Was their dance that admirable?" 

You groaned throwing your head back, you could hear Sunghoon chuckling at your misery from beside you, "this isn't the first time I saw you staring pretty..." you turned your head slowly in his direction, he smiled lightly, eyes full of emotions or was it the effect of alcohol he was drinking? "Hm?" He sighed, resting his head at the back of the couch, mimicking you, "I saw how you look at him, at the music room, at his house during our celebration, at the villa, at the beach, the time when he served you dinner," your gaze was fixed on his face as he went on and on about all the times he had watch you fawn over your best friends boyfriend. You couldn't bring yourself to deny all his observations, not when he wasn't looking for your approval anyway, he had observed you and was just stating what he saw. 

"Your eyes are so predictable, pretty," He said after he didn't get any response from you and saw you looking away. There was not a single bite in his words, he didn't accuse or blame you for being a bad friend. Your eyes met his again, you couldn't find any sharpness, or any judgement, just softness, like he understood where you were coming from without you having to say anything. Your heart swelled with something you didn't quite understand but felt overwhelmed, "are you always this annoying?" Your words were softer than you intended them to be, and he just smirked, putting his hand on your shoulder, "only when I'm onto something." You sighed but didn't resist his embrace, "you're not onto something, Jay's my best friend's boyfriend." His other hand made its way towards yours to play with your bracelet, "he is, that doesn't mean you wish things were different though." You let me play, eyes lingering on the veins of his hands for a second too long, "I didn't say that," "You didn't have to."

"Where did they go?" Your eyes followed Sunghoon's line of vision, "probably in Ava's room to make out or something," you mumbled quietly but he caught that, "you're not going to sit here and sulk," he said grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, "no girl gets to stand beside me and feel like a loser, that shit is reserved only for boys." You wanted to say something but decided against it when you couldn't think of anything smart to say. He dragged you towards the dance floor, his hands circling around your waist, he abruptly pulled you close, your hands grabbing his shoulders in response. "Focus on me tonight, who knows, tomorrow you might forget who Jay is." 

You rolled your eyes at him, hands now comfortably resting around his neck as both of your bodies swayed with the rhythm of music. The night had stretched on, the music settling to something slow and soft. One of his hands slid up to rest against your back, while the other rested snugly on your waist. His actions pulled your body closer to his, from this distance you could count all the moles that were scattered across his face, the curve of his lashes, the point of his nose, and his lips. You gulped, feeling heat rise up in your body at the proximity. You tried looking away but he held you in place with his gaze. You were sure he could hear your heartbeat from how close you were. 

One of his hands lifted, his movements slow and deliberate as he looked at your face for any signs of discomfort, his knuckles grazed your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered close and you leaned into his touch. His breath hitched, taking shallow breaths his hand now cradled your cheek, fully, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. You sighed softly, leaning more into his touch as if leaning felt safer than speaking. You felt him inch closer, your nose barely grazing against his, you could smell him, the faint scent of detergent which lingered on his shirt, his shampoo, and something so achingly Sunghoon. Your breath flattered, syncing with his, for a moment both of you just breathed each other in.

His lips meet yours, softly, no urgency, no rush, like he's taking his time to learn the curve of your lips, a little hesitant, like he was giving you time to back out if you want. It was the kind of kiss that communicated his soft sighs and gasps, one that lingers at the back of your mind even after years. His thumb caressed your cheek, his actions meant less for comforting you and more for anchoring himself and for a moment everything single thought from your mind disappeared. Then his thumb suddenly froze mid-motion, he pulled away slightly, enough to look at your face. "You're crying pretty..." your eyebrows furrowed at his words and you opened your eyes, his thumb caught another tear which fell from your eyes but he didn't press further.

"I'm sorry..." you choked, unable to comprehend the reason behind your tears. You wanted to kiss him, and you did, but you couldn't figure out why the tears started to flow. The hand on your cheek, slid up to the back of your neck and he pulled close. You buried your head at the crook of his neck. "It hurts so bad, hoon." You aren't even sure where it hurts badly, Ava's lie, or watching her living the life you only imagined in your dreams, or the fact that even if Jay knew it was you, it wouldn't have bloomed into something so precious. "Shh, everything will be okay, you don't have to pretend in front of me." His fingers tangled in your hair as he drew soothing circles on your head. You nodded your head, pulling away a little from his embrace and from the corner of your eyes you saw Jay furiously walking down the stairs, his shoulders tense. 

"Sunghoon," you pulled away from him and he brushed the remaining of the tears with both of his hands, "Jay." You pointed your finger towards his figure, he shoved people who came into his path, his steps hurried and faze fixed on the main door of Ava's house, "follow him," Sunghoon nudged you in Jay's direction, your face contoured into confusion, "but shouldn't Ava be going after him?" He ran his hand through his hair as he watched Jay near the door, "something tells me he needs you more than he'll need Ava at this moment." You looked at him for a second, letting his words sink deep inside you, after a while you nodded at his direction and turned around to run towards Jay. 

Sunghoon watched as your hand slipped away from him, the same hand which he had intertwined with yours a few moments back. He watched it all, the way the tip of your finger slid against his one last time, like sand slipping from his palm, the way your lips trembled when you turn away, the urgency in your steps when you try your best to move through the crowd to reach Jay, and his hand tremble beside him. His other hand lifted up to trace the lingering memory of your lips pressing against it. And when he recalled the way your lips moved against his and how he tasted the salty taste of your tear before catching a sight of it, he wondered if that's what heartbreak tastes like. Like a kiss dipped in honey, ruined by the sting of salt you never meant for him to find.

[btsreadss]

summary: your estranged grandmother left you exactly one thing in her will: a sprawling luxury apartment in the heart of seoul — the kind of place that could singlehandedly cover your entire college tuition if you ever decided to sell it. now you had a penthouse all to yourself, a pink-tiled kitchen you weirdly adored, and a hopeless, slow-burning crush on the absurdly attractive neighbor who barely looked your way.

authors note: chapter two is here and i couldn’t be more grateful for all the support i’m getting for this story, i hope we can all enjoy our time here <3 for this one i’d like to clarify that i’m still trying to improve my writing and pacing so pls bear with my anxious ass until i can properly proofread it. anyways, let’s cut the bs and thirst over our confused funny reader and her hot vampire neighbour. PLS, READ THE WARNINGS FOR A SAFE AND COMFORTABLE READING.

warnings and tags: mommy issues • explanation of a cancer treatment (not detailed) • reader was forced to become an adult at thirteen (matilda's vibes) • her dad has cancer • mentions of lab reports, chemotherapy, prescriptions, hospitals • detailed descriptions of fever and sickness symptoms • reader is sick and passes out • THIS IS ANGST, I'M WARNING YOU • but we also got sarcasm and hot neighbors if that makes you feel better • this is so introspective i'm sick • jungwon is fully tatted in this story, i think i should add this • soulmates!au • vampire!au.

word count: 16k.

previous chapters: series masterlist.

the jeonghyeon building was known for its picturesque internal design, even the elevators had decorations.

today, it was pastel ribbons — thin, barely tied things, looped lazily along the edges of the brass railing like an afterthought. 

you didn’t notice them when you were ascending to the rooftop last night. not when your embarrassment was so loud you could hardly breathe. not when you practically fled to the greenhouse after niki barged into your apartment. not when you came back down much later, heart racing, pupils blown, mouth dry.

not when your concern for your hot neighbor — because that’s all he was supposed to be — soured into something heavier. something quieter. something that curled low in your stomach and refused to leave.

sunghoon was a complex character. that much you'd noticed the very first time you saw him — standing in front of your door, black coat, mail in hand, giving you the kind of silent nod that felt like it had punctuation. he didn’t bother with small talk. didn’t seem interested in charming anyone. he was cute. quiet. mysterious in that brooding, emotionally unavailable way you hated admitting you were into.

but after last night... he became something else entirely.

not just a guy with good cheekbones and strange eyes. not just your weird, hot neighbor with an allergy to speaking.

something had shifted. and not in a fun “i think we had a moment” kind of way. more like a “maybe i was one minute away from being a missing person” kind of way.

and you weren’t saying he was dangerous. you were just saying… if this were a movie, and you disappeared mysteriously next week, he would be the first suspect. and the internet would agree.

at first, you thought maybe sunghoon was just allergic to something — you didn’t know, maybe air. maybe there was a weird flower up there in the greenhouse and he was reacting to it. you genuinely wondered, for one disoriented second, if he needed an epipen.

then you realized he wasn’t having an allergic reaction to the environment. he was having one to you.

and that’s when the alarms started going off.

because it wasn’t just weird. it was canonically weird. the kind of weird that didn’t fit into real-world logic. not just him — the whole thing. this building. his roommates. the greenhouse that felt like it shouldn’t exist on a rooftop, but somehow did.

the moment you saw his eyes — blown wide, pupils dilated like he’d just been drugged or bitten or both — you knew something was happening. and it was serious.

he couldn’t breathe right. he kept making these awful, strangled movements — like he was trying to swallow something back and failing. and then came the gulping. the salivating.

so much saliva.

you weren’t a doctor — hell, you hadn’t even passed your college entrance exams yet — but you knew what a medical emergency looked like. and that? that wasn’t that.

that wasn’t a panic attack. that wasn’t low blood sugar. that was something that didn’t belong to a normal person. and he had looked right at you while it happened.

so your thoughts, as you waited for the elevator door to open — so you could escape and hide in your apartment for the rest of the night because he begged you to leave him alone — were something like:

did i fuck up by moving here?

are they criminals? 

omg, what if they’re human traffickers?

what if this is actually a cult and they’re looking for their next victim?

you weren’t being dramatic. you were being logical. or at least that’s what you told yourself as you stared at your blurry reflection in the elevator panel, trying not to have a full-blown breakdown while descending back to your floor.

you chalked it up to adrenaline. or hormones. or the silent, creeping onset of a stress-induced stroke. because how else were you supposed to explain the fact that your limbs were shaky, your stomach twisted in knots, and your mouth — for some reason — kept watering like you were watching someone eat cake on tv? 

as you were inside that elevator, your head was spinning, your legs felt like someone had unplugged them mid-walk, and your skin was so oversensitive that even the elevator air felt too loud. it wasn’t fear. not exactly. it was something stranger. heavier. like your entire body was reacting to something your brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

the worst part was that, when the elevator finally opened and you stepped onto your floor, niki was there. again.

of course, again.

just standing in the hallway like a casually summoned demon. hands in his pockets, party attire perfectly unbothered, like he’d walked straight out of a hongdae fashion editorial titled ‘trouble but make it cute.’

you blinked at him. or — at least, you thought you did. hard to tell. it felt less like a voluntary movement and more like your body was running on lag, processing commands with a half-second delay. even your eyelids weren’t cooperating anymore.

he blinked back, completely unfazed. like finding you half-frozen in front of the elevator, breathing like a hunted animal, was just another tuesday night.

but this wasn’t a tuesday night — this was a friday night where you were supposed to have finished your college entrance essay four hours ago and kept things lowkey inside your pastel-colored apartment, eating dry cereal and pretending to be emotionally stable.

instead, you looked like you’d just seen a ghost. or worse — a really hot hallucination in a greenhouse that almost gave you a cardiac event. your hoodie was slightly damp from stress-sweat, your slippers were mismatched, and your mouth was still parted in that half-shocked, half-“please don’t let me die in a designer building” kind of way.

niki tilted his head, one brow barely lifting, like he was trying to place a scent or decode your entire existence using only his nostrils. the hallway lighting buzzed faintly above you, casting him in soft gold and you in fluorescent anxiety.

“you good?” he asked, nose twitching — subtle, but just enough to make you feel like he’d caught something in the air. something off. something you.

his small reaction made your stomach tighten, though you couldn’t explain why. embarrassment bloomed in your chest — sharp, involuntary — and you weren’t even sure what you were embarrassed about. the greenhouse? sunghoon? your face? the fact that your body still felt hijacked by a panic you didn’t understand?

you smoothed your face into what you hoped was neutral indifference. why? because you did not want to become a part of whatever cult these boys were running. you didn’t want to incriminate sunghoon in front of his possible accomplice before even knowing if they were a team or not. “yeah. totally. why?”

“just asking,” he said, tone too light — like a cat batting at a dying bug. “you look weird. smell off”

“oh, wow, thanks.” you did feel weird. but you weren’t about to unpack your almost-panic attack with your stupidly dressed neighbor while standing in a haunted hallway.

at midnight, mind you.

“you’re welcome.”

you sighed, already unlocking your door, ready to bolt inside in case sunghoon showed up with a knife. or a sword. at this point, you weren’t ruling anything out.

“what do you want, niki? it’s late as fuck.”

he shrugged. “i was asking if you wanted to come to this party with me.”

you turned to him. stared.

“niki, i’m not going to a party with you at midnight.”

he raised an eyebrow. “why not?”

“because we’re not that close, okay? and it’s fucking midnight, i need to finish this stupid essay and i need to sleep and walk my frog, whatever suits you.”

niki blinked. “you have a frog?”

“no, niki. i do not have a frog.”

he nodded slowly, like you’d just confirmed a suspicion.

“so you’re not coming to the party,” he said flatly — like your face wasn’t still flushed with nerves, like you hadn’t just come down from a near the vampire diaries death episode. 

“no, niki. i’m not.”

“shame.” he didn’t pout. didn’t try to convince you. just accepted your answer like it was weather. like you were a passing cloud.

then he turned. walked off.

you watched him disappear down the corridor, steps light, hands still buried in his pockets. you kept staring until his figure was swallowed by the metal of the elevator. the doors closed with a soft ding.

and then you frowned. cursed under your breath.

what a fucking weird set of neighbors you’d managed to pull.

because what kind of approach was that? what kind of person — someone who had the audacity to call himself your friend — invited you to a party and then just... gave up. no convincing. no teasing. like the second he saw your clothes, your freezing cheeks, your wide eyes, he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. like he already knew your answer.

or worse — like you weren’t the one deciding at all.

you let your thoughts about niki slip away the second you glanced into your apartment.

inside your apartment, the first thing you did was lock everything. the front door, the balcony latch, the windows — even the sliding one in the bathroom that barely opened. then you cleaned, because what else could you do? it was either that or scream into a pillow, and your neighbors already thought you were weird. 

so you tossed the half-bitten cookies niki had tasted earlier, like his saliva could infect your air or something. you washed the coffee machine you still hadn’t figured out how to use without flooding the counter. you folded your laundry into uneven stacks and told yourself you’d wash them properly in the morning. everything was done with a kind of desperate, mechanical precision — as if moving fast enough might stop your thoughts from catching up.

you were trying to return to normal. to do human things. to signal to your own body that there was no threat. but even after hours had passed — after the rooftop, after the greenhouse, after sunghoon’s eyes and niki’s nose twitch and whatever the hell had happened up there — your chest still felt tight. your blood pressure was high enough to make your ears ring. your fingers twitched when you paused too long. your heart, traitorous as ever, kept hammering like it knew something you didn’t.

eventually, your body gave out before your brain could. you laid down without brushing your teeth, without washing your face, without checking your phone. just collapsed into bed fully clothed, limbs aching like you’d run a marathon, mind buzzing like a dying lightbulb.

——

living in seoul city for five weeks now had been less like a teenage dream and more like a young adult nightmare. it’d only been a little more than a month, and you were already regretting changing your emergency contact to someone who once got lost inside a daiso for four hours and blamed capitalism (niki).

the whole move was supposed to be a fresh start — a quiet little apartment, a somewhat normal routine, a chance to reinvent yourself as someone who didn’t spiral every time a stranger looked at you too long. but after the greenhouse incident, you hadn’t reinvented anything except your ability to dissociate on command.

you hadn’t seen sunghoon since that night. not even once. not in the elevator, not in the hallway, not in the weirdly lavish mailroom with gold-trimmed cubbies. even niki had stopped popping up uninvited like a cursed genie in high-top sneakers. radio silence. total blackout.

at first, you assumed it was guilt. or maybe they'd gone out of town for one of those mysterious rich-people getaways where everyone pretends to hike and secretly joins a cult. then, after a few days, you started wondering if you'd hallucinated the whole thing. the greenhouse, the pupils, the gulping. maybe it was just a panic attack — one of those real dramatic ones your body pulls when your serotonin hits zero and your caffeine intake is at god-tier levels.

you almost convinced yourself. almost.

until the acceptance email came.

at first, you thought it was spam. the subject line was too cheerful. too optimistic. too full of polite korean university jargon. but then you opened it, and there it was — bold and clean and terrifying:

congratulations on your admission to the department of psychology at hanil women’s university.

you stared at it for a solid minute, unsure whether to cry, scream, or throw up. maybe all three. you read it again. and then again. and then once more just to make sure it wasn’t a prank from your father, who once photoshopped your middle school report card and printed it on the fridge “for motivation.”

and then you called him.

“you got in?” he said, picking up after one ring, as if he’d been waiting next to the phone like a k-drama dad.

“i got in.”

“to psych?”

“yes.”

“so you’ll finally be able to explain what’s wrong with you.”

“that’s the plan.”

he laughed like it was the best news he’d heard since kim yuna’s olympic gold. you could hear the pride tucked behind his teasing, even if he still refused to say anything too sappy. this was how you and your father celebrated: sarcastic banter, cheap delivery chicken, and maybe — if you really pressed — a heart emoji in a text message two days later.

you saved the acceptance email in three separate folders, took screenshots, emailed it to yourself again just in case the system crashed and erased all evidence that you were now, officially, a psychology student. march semester. hanil women’s university. you made it.

it didn’t fix everything. your head still hurt more days than not, and your stomach kept doing this fluttery thing like it was waiting for the other shoe to drop. but it helped. it grounded you. your dad even sent a voice message where he tried to pronounce “clinical psychology” and accidentally said “clitoris” instead. you cried laughing. saved that too.

and then, just as you were finally starting to convince yourself that life was back on track — that the sunghoon incident was just a weird blip, that niki wasn’t ever coming back to sniff your hallway anxiety again, that your body would stop rebelling against you any day now — your phone buzzed.

just one notification. just one line.

save my number. how’s city life? 🌼

you read it like it might explode. because of course it was her. of course it was now. right when you were managing to piece together something resembling peace — there she was, barging in with lowercase friendliness and a fucking flower emoji. no warning. no apology. no context. just a digital ghost pressing its face to the glass of your almost-healed life.

you stared at the message for a full minute, thumb hovering over the screen like it might bite. she hadn’t contacted you in months — not since she sent you those cold, bullet-pointed instructions on how to legally transfer the lease of your grandmother’s penthouse to your name. not a call. not a birthday emoji. just radio silence. and now… this. polite. breezy. like she was reintroducing herself.

you and your mom never had a real relationship. not after she left your father — not even two months after he started chemo — because her own mother couldn’t stand the idea of her daughter being married to a countryside fisherman.

there was no explosive fight. no door slamming or screaming match. just a quiet kind of abandonment, like someone slowly stepping backward out of the frame. you didn’t beg her to stay. you didn’t cry at her feet. you were thirteen, already too familiar with watching people leave and too tired to stage a dramatic protest.

you never had that teenage rebellion backbone — not the kind that slammed doors and yelled “you don’t understand me” through tears and acne. mostly because you didn’t have the time. you were too busy trying to hold the house together.

your mornings started before sunrise, heating up leftover rice and folding the blankets your father left on the couch when he was too nauseous to sleep in his bed. you’d take the bus to school, headphones in but nothing playing, brain looping through test dates and pharmacy receipts. in the evenings, you’d come home, drop your bag, and start cleaning again. washing dishes, checking the water filter, cooking something he could actually stomach.

your grades hovered somewhere between “survival” and “bare minimum,” not because you weren’t smart, but because you were exhausted. every hour of algebra felt like a theft — time stolen from the real emergencies. and when your classmates complained about their parents being annoying, you stayed quiet. you didn’t know how to explain that your mom had vanished into a new apartment across seoul, and your dad was losing his hair in clumps in the bathtub.

you learned how to read lab reports before you could even understand half of them. you taught yourself how to refill prescriptions without crying at the pharmacy counter. and at some point, you stopped wondering whether your mom was going to call. because she didn’t.

for years, han seo-jeon vanished. and you were too busy to care about that.

and now, here she was — texting like she was trying out for mother of the year. asking how city life was like she hadn’t helped drop you into the middle of a building that felt cursed. you didn’t know what pissed you off more: that she reached out, or that some small, bitter part of you was still hoping she meant it.

you did save the number. not out of sentiment, but logistics. she was, unfortunately, still your mother. and if she was going to start texting again, you at least needed to know when to emotionally flinch.

life in the city had not been the neon-lit montage the commercials promised. no rooftop parties. no cute cafés where you accidentally met your soulmate while reaching for the same scone. instead, you got: weird neighbors. a haunted greenhouse. and an apartment that echoed too much when you were overthinking — which was, statistically speaking, most of the time.

for the past two weeks — since your hot neighbor had an allergic reaction to you — your days were a blur of mild headaches and to-do lists you never fully finished. you woke up late, ate bland convenience store meals, and tried not to notice how heavy your limbs felt lately. it was like your body was trying to warn you about something but refused to be specific. even your skin felt wrong — itchy but not irritated, like your cells were in a group chat and everyone had started subtweeting you.

it’s been two weeks since the greenhouse incident and you haven’t seen this building as empty as it’s been. not a single glimpse of sunghoon — not in the elevator, not in the halls, not even in the mailroom where you used to hear his shoes before you saw him. 

and niki, who once acted like the hallway was his personal runway, had vanished too. no impromptu visits. no weird comments through the door. not even a single “you good?” text with the passive-aggressive concern of a guy pretending not to care.

you stopped hearing late-night music thumping through the walls. the gym — which was always suspiciously clean for a place that niki once described as “his meditation zone” — stayed dark every time you passed it. the whole building felt like it was holding its breath. like it knew something you didn’t.

and maybe the scariest part wasn’t that they were gone. it was that no one else seemed to notice. no neighbors asking questions. no complaints about noise or missing faces. just… silence. echoing down perfect, pastel-colored halls. like the jeonghyeon building was designed to swallow noise. and people.

you told yourself the silence was a good thing. that it meant peace. that it meant maybe things were finally settling into something normal — something liveable.

but when nighttime came, when your apartment dimmed into shades of grey and soft buzzing fridge hums, when you hadn’t more essays to finish because you finally had been approved, the quiet got loud.

it crawled up the walls and pressed against your windows. it sat with you on the couch, next to your half-eaten dinner, and watched you scroll through your phone like it was waiting for you to break first.

you weren’t sleeping much. the insomnia wasn’t new, but it was different now. not the usual overthinking or anxiety kind — not the kind you could talk your way out of with youtube playlists and peppermint tea. this was… physical. your body didn’t want to sleep. it felt like it was bracing for something. like your heart refused to settle into a rhythm unless it knew you were alone, and safe, and not being watched.

at first, you chalked it up to the winter weather. maybe you’d caught a cold walking home with wet hair. maybe the convenience store ramen diet was finally taking its revenge, one sodium-packed headache at a time. your body ached like it had been through a minor car crash — but you were a student again now, technically. a little exhaustion came with the territory.

but when the symptoms hit the two-week marker, you started to get restless. it wasn’t just fatigue anymore. it was this bone-deep tired that sleep didn’t touch. your limbs felt heavy. your skin pulsed under certain lights. your migraines weren’t even announcing themselves like normal — they just showed up, sharp and unapologetic, like a knife pressed between your eyes.

some days you couldn’t even look at your own reflection without feeling like your face was one second away from morphing into someone else’s.

you tried to brush it off, blame it on stress, or hormone shifts, or anything that wasn’t weird supernatural fallout from a rooftop garden horror show. but your dreams said otherwise. and the worst part? you were starting to believe them.

sleep had never been your strong suit — not since you moved into the seonghyeon building, not since that night. some nights you fell asleep without realizing it, slipping into unconsciousness between one thought and the next. other nights you’d lie awake for hours, heart pacing like it was running laps without your permission.

but lately, it wasn’t the lack of sleep that bothered you. it was what came after.

you were never one to actually remember dreams in the morning. you’d wake up blank, maybe with a flicker of color or the echo of a word on your tongue, but nothing concrete. now, though — now they clung to you. heavy and wet. 

they didn’t always make sense. sometimes you couldn’t recognize the places or the faces. sometimes there wasn’t even language, just this overwhelming pull — like your subconscious was trying to lead you somewhere you weren’t ready to go.

and the worst one came midweek, on a tuesday or maybe a wednesday — you’d stopped keeping track. you’d been up until 4 a.m. trying to finish your entrance essay, blinking at the screen like it might write itself if you stared hard enough.

eventually, your body gave up before your brain did. you passed out right there on the couch, lights on, laptop humming warm against your leg.

in the dream, you were back in the greenhouse. only it wasn’t beautiful anymore. the air was wet and sour, like rotting soil and mold. the plants were shriveled, leaves curling in on themselves like dying hands. 

the glass walls were fogged over, and the lights buzzed low, flickering. you couldn’t tell how long you’d been standing there — just that your feet were bare and your skin was cold.

and then you saw him. sunghoon. standing still in the center of it all, surrounded by the decay. same black clothes. same unbothered posture. but his eyes… they glowed this awful, pale gold, like old moonlight trapped behind water. he didn’t speak. didn’t move. just watched you. watched you like he knew something. like he was waiting for you to admit it out loud. whatever it was. 

you woke up gasping. drenched. fingers clenched in the fabric of the couch cushion so hard your nails left dents. your skin was damp with sweat, and the back of your neck felt like it had been kissed by frost. your heartbeat didn’t calm down for ten full minutes. 

you didn’t go back to sleep after that, or the night after that. and now, without even noticing when it started, you hadn’t properly slept in four days. not real sleep. not healing sleep.

you were running on half-hour naps and caffeine shakes, staring at your ceiling like it might blink first. your body was forgetting how to rest — how to switch off — and your brain? well, your brain had entered that fun little stage of exhaustion where everything started feeling like a hallucination.

you kept misplacing things. your keys. your charger. your sentences. your skin felt too tight, your ears kept ringing, and your eyes burned every time you blinked.

you tried to blame it on the season, the new routine, the stress of college. because you had gotten in — that was real. the email had arrived last tuesday, and you’d cried over it in the bathroom like a girl in a coming-of-age movie. but even that joy felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else.

and now it was monday night again. fourteen days since the last time you saw any of your neighbors — not sunghoon, not niki, not even the middle-aged man with the dog that barked at its own reflection in the lobby mirror.

the building had gone eerily silent. the kind of silence that didn’t feel like peace, but like someone was holding their breath.

you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling like it owed you answers. your phone rested on your chest, heavy and useless, buzzing every now and then with reminders you’d already missed and ads you’d never clicked. one missed call. one weather notification. zero messages from the people you told yourself you didn’t care about hearing from.

your brain was cotton. your limbs were bricks. your spine felt like it had been politely removed and mailed to another country. nothing helped — not water, not caffeine, not your fifteen-minute attempt at yoga that ended with you lying flat on the mat wondering if this was how people in cult documentaries started.

and the dreams weren’t letting up. they came every fifiteen minute nap now, and each one ended in that same suffocating greenhouse, with those same rotting plants and those same pale gold eyes watching you like a question you didn’t want to answer. you were starting to feel haunted by someone who hadn’t even spoken to you in two weeks.

so you called your dad. not for answers, not even for comfort — just because monday nights were the kind of nights where calling him felt like survival.

“kid,” he answered on the second ring, voice thick with sleep and instant worry, “you sick?”

you scoffed, immediately offended. “wow. no hello, no i missed you, just straight to the diagnosis.”

“your breathing’s weird. you’ve got the voice of a medieval orphan. you eating real food or just surviving off noodles again?”

the thing about your father is that he became your friend sometime between your fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays — sometime between hospital visits and pharmacy receipts, between learning how to drain an IV and helping him shower when the chemo made him too weak to lift his arms.

that kind of routine broke people, sometimes. made them distant. awkward. in your case, it did the opposite. it turned him into your favorite person. the only person who really knew you.

and by “knew you,” you didn’t mean in that fake, sentimental way people threw around when they wanted to be close. no. he knew you.

he could read your breath like punctuation. he heard your sighs like subtext. he could tell when you were lying just by how you said the word “fine.” he always knew when your laugh meant happy and when it meant not right now, please.

so when he picked up the phone and didn’t even say hello — just launched into a casual, “okay, how long have you been pretending you’re fine?” — you weren’t surprised. you just let your head fall to the side and sighed into the speaker.

“jesus, dad. give a girl some mystery.”

“mystery’s for strangers. and you don’t call me this late unless something’s up. so. what’s wrong? food poisoning? heartbreak? crime?”

“crime?” you snorted. “what kind of crime?”

“you tell me.” he yawned. “you’re the one whispering like someone’s watching.”

“i’m not whispering.”

“yet.”

you pulled your blanket higher up your chest. the warmth didn’t help much, but the sarcasm did.

“it’s not a big deal. just haven’t been sleeping.”

“for how long?”

“…i plead the fifth.”

“that’s an american law, kid.”

“then i plead being very korean and very tired.”

he chuckled on the other end — that low, warm sound that always made you feel like a person again. “okay. insomnia. check. what else?”

“you want the list alphabetically or emotionally?”

“surprise me.”

you paused. the line stayed quiet. and then:

“you ever feel like your body knows something you don’t?”

that made him go silent for real.

then, in the most casual tone imaginable:

“are you finally becoming a vampire?”

you groaned. “dad.”

“what? you always had the teeth for it.”

another thing about your dad was that he was, in fact, obsessed with vampires since his teenage years. how did you discover that?

oh, he never kept it hidden.

the man had tastes, and they were proudly undead. your childhood home had shelves dedicated to vampire literature, half of them worn out from rereads, the other half banned from your school’s book list.

it wasn’t just books either. halloween — a day that barely made a ripple in your korean school life — was his super bowl. even if there was no party to go to, no one to impress, he’d still show up on october 31st dressed like an eighteenth-century romanian warlord, sipping blood-red juice from a goblet he bought off some sketchy forum in 2009.

once, he wore a victorian frock coat and a prosthetic bite wound to your school’s parent–teacher meeting because he forgot to change. you’d never lived that down.

he was harmless about it, though. just enthusiastic. you used to think it was a dad thing — like model trains or grilling. but as you got older, you realized he didn’t just find vampires cool. he respected them. like they were a dying species whose stories deserved to be preserved.

he claimed it started as a joke. some middle school phase, back when vampires were still making headlines. but it stuck. and now, years later, he still made the same awful jokes and kept the same bookshelf and watched the same bootleg documentaries that used actual vampire interviews from the early days, back when coexistence was something society still tried to publicly understand.

he used to say, “one day they’ll come back around. real ones. they never disappeared, they just got quieter. like wolves when the forest burns.”

“you’ve been waiting your whole life to say that, haven’t you?” you mutter through clenched teeth, voice scratchy with exhaustion as another migraine slices across your skull like a dull knife.

“literally. your mother hated when i made those jokes. said it would scare you.”

“it didn’t scare me. it made me judgmental.”

“same thing at your age.” he paused, then added more gently, “what’s your symptoms?”

“i think i’m dying. pretty sure. either i’m dying or i’m the chosen one. probably both.” you grimace alone in your bedroom, pressing the phone tighter to your ear like proximity might somehow dull the ache — like your dad’s ridiculous voice might drown out the static building behind your eyes.

he chuckled. “you always wanted to be special. now look at you. main character syndrome.”

“dad, i’m serious. something’s off. i’ve been having migraines and dreams and…” you trailed off. rubbed your temple. “weird stuff. i can’t explain it. it’s probably stress, right?”

“or,” he said, entirely too cheerful, “you’ve been marked by a vampire.”

you groaned. “not this again.”

“hey, you brought up chosen one energy. don’t act surprised when the lore gets involved.”

you stared at the ceiling, lips twitching despite yourself. “lore? have you been sneaking onto aeri’s tiktok again? you’re obsessed.”

“obsessed is a strong word. passionately informed, maybe. listen—back in the eighties, they were everywhere. on the news. in magazines. talk shows. you’re too young to remember, but vamps were the real deal. civil rights protests, televised feedings, designer blood banks—hell, they had perfume lines.”

“dad.”

“and the soulmate stuff? wild. freaked people out. imagine waking up one day and realizing some pale bastard with three centuries of unresolved trauma has you bookmarked in his little undead brain. bam. linked for life.”

you snorted. “you say that like it actually happened.”

“it did happen. i had a friend in middle school—joon-seok—swore up and down his aunt bonded with a vamp in the seventies. met him at a blood drive or something. said she had dreams about him for weeks before they even locked eyes.”

“uh-huh.”

“i’m serious! back then it was like—vampires weren’t some secret club. people knew about them. they had ID cards, worked night shifts, bought supplements, did press tours. hell, there was this old drama your grandma used to watch where a vampire opened a pharmacy. they were around, okay?”

you raised an eyebrow. “then where are they now?”

“vanished,” he said, a little too dramatically. “right after the second blood regulation act in '93. that’s when everything got strict. no more voluntary donors, only licensed feeding centers, stuff like that. vamps started leaving the cities. some went underground. some just… stopped showing up.”

“so now they’re like urban legends with tax records.”

“basically. but back in the fifties, when the law passed that made them part of school curriculum, people freaked. there were protests. some parents didn’t want their kids learning about blood bonds or mortality rights. said it was corrupting the youth. but most people didn’t care. not really. they figured the vamps were gone anyway, so what was the harm in reading a textbook about them?”

you were quiet for a second. your fingers traced the hem of your blanket. “but they’re still around.”

he sighed, softer now. “probably. just hiding better. or maybe they figured out humans aren’t worth the hassle.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. you didn’t even know if you believed half of what he’d said — and yet… you wanted to.

maybe because lately, your dreams were starting to feel less like stress and more like memories that didn’t belong to you.

“you’re quiet,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“just thinking,” you replied, which was technically true, but your voice came out thinner than expected. you shifted on the bed, pushing the blanket down to your waist, your skin suddenly too hot. you’d been feeling like that all day — warm in your joints, flushed in your chest, like your blood was dragging itself uphill. it wasn’t a fever, exactly, but it wasn’t nothing.

on the other end, your dad went silent for a beat. “how long has this been going on?”

“what?”

“the weird dreams. the migraines. the fact that you just said three words without a single joke in them.”

you rubbed your forehead. “don’t start.”

“i’m serious, kid.”

“so am i. i think it’s just... the city. or the stress. or hormones. or caffeine withdrawal. or,” you inhaled, voice flattening, “i’m dying and it’s a really slow, poetic demise.”

“you’ve always been dramatic,” he said, but he didn’t sound amused anymore. “have you seen a doctor?”

“no insurance yet.”

“baby—”

“dad,” you cut in, then sighed. “i’m okay. just a little off.”

he didn’t answer immediately. and when he did, it was softer. older. “you sound like how your mom used to get.”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“back before... everything. she’d go quiet like that. said her skin itched from the inside out. said her dreams smelled like soil and smoke.”

that made your stomach twist. “you never told me that.”

“you never asked.”

and there it was again. that quiet, pulsing unease. like something was being handed to you in pieces — but the full picture still refused to come together.

“you know,” your dad added, offhand, like it wasn’t about to lodge itself under your skin for the next several years, “your mom used to get these weird spells too. back in the day.”

you blinked. “what kind of spells?”

“feverish, bone-deep fatigue. said it felt like her whole body was… not hers. she’d get these migraines that knocked her out for days. always happened around seasonal shifts or when she got really stressed. i took her to the hospital once and they ran every test imaginable. nothing ever came back.”

you stared at the ceiling, the shape of your own breath shifting slightly. “you’ve literally never told me that.”

“you’ve literally never asked.”

your heart gave a slow, reluctant thud — like it was unsure whether to beat faster or stop altogether.

“i thought it was just anxiety,” you said.

“it might be,” he replied quickly, too quickly. “probably is. you’re under pressure, adjusting to a new city, new apartment, starting college — it’s a lot.”

but he didn’t say it like he believed it.

and you didn’t hear it like you believed it either.

he seemed to sense the silence hardening between you, because he cleared his throat. “okay, let’s just make a list, yeah? go full nurse mode.”

you exhaled, quietly grateful for the deflection. “sure.”

“fever?”

“not exactly.”

“headache?”

“migraine.”

“appetite?”

“dead.”

“joint pain?”

“like old creaky stairs.”

“chills?”

“yes. but only sometimes. like… internal shivering.”

he hummed. “hm. sounds like what your mom said, too.”

you didn’t answer. not really because you didn’t want to. more because you couldn’t — because the words sat heavy on your chest, like something that had been waiting to be remembered.

he kept talking, light again, half-joking like always. “could be an autoimmune flare. could be your iron. could be a ghost. could be—”

“a vampire?” you deadpanned, waiting to see his reaction.

“finally! thank you for saying it first. you brought up ‘chosen one’ energy. don’t act surprised when the lore gets involved,” he repeated with far too much glee.

you scoffed, shifting the phone to your other ear as you curled deeper into your blanket cocoon. “you need a new hobby.”

“i do. how’s city life treating you aside dying from fever dreams and vampire encounters? made any friends yet?”

you hesitated. just enough for him to catch it.

“...no,” you said eventually. “not really. just weird neighbors.”

“hmm.” a beat. “any of them look suspicious to you?”

you scoffed again — but it came out closer to a laugh this time. not because it was funny, but because it was accurate. “dad. this building is suspicious. the floor tiles look suspicious. i’m pretty sure the elevator music changes based on your blood type.”

he snorted. “so that’s a yes.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t have to.”

you rolled your eyes, but a small part of you was glad he asked. even if you weren’t about to admit that the weirdest one of all had glowing eyes in your dreams and possibly an allergic reaction to your existence.

“look, kid,” he said, suddenly serious in that half-joking, half-dad way of his. “if any of them turns out to be a vampire, you call me first, okay? i want to meet one before i die.”

you snorted. “right. i’ll schedule a coffee date between your blood pressure pills and my hallucinations.”

“i’m serious. call me. and then you run, alright? don’t be cute. don’t do that heroine nonsense where you try to understand him or fix him or whatever. just—bolt. fangs equals exit.”

you rolled your eyes, even as your chest squeezed a little. “yeah, yeah. wooden stake, garlic, sprint in the opposite direction. got it.”

he paused. “...you still carrying that pepper spray i gave you?”

you didn’t answer immediately.

“do not tell me you lost it.”

“technically,” you said, drawing the word out, “it’s not lost if i know it’s somewhere in my kitchen junk drawer.”

“god help you.”

“god’s not the one with bloodlust in my building, dad.”

“exactly why i’m saying this.” his voice softened. “you’re a smart girl. just… trust your gut, okay?”

you didn’t have the heart to tell him that your gut hadn’t been reliable since sunghoon looked at you like you were something to be devoured and saved all at once.

“okay,” you whispered instead.

“good. now go drink water or something. you sound like you’re dying.”

“thanks for the emotional support.”

“anytime. love you.”

“love you too.”

you hung up. and for the first time all week, your apartment didn’t feel entirely empty. just a little haunted.

monday night came in like a ghost—silent, heavy, and cold. for the first time in a while, you weren’t sure if you were awake or dreaming. after you hang up the call with your father, your body floated through your night routine of existing while your mind kept slipping out of your grip. everything tasted like metal. your skin was clammy, your head hot, but your fingers ice-cold.

you fell asleep that night without meaning to, face buried into your pillow, phone buzzing somewhere under the blanket. and for the first time, the dream didn’t take place in the greenhouse.

this time, you were at a bar.

warm lights buzzed overhead, golden and slow, like honey. niki sat across from you in a booth too plush to be real, his hands wrapped around a glass filled with something electric blue. you were laughing—no clue why—but the kind of laughing that made your ribs ache, cheeks flushed. he was grinning, head tilted, like this was a game he knew how to play.

and then it changed.

like someone had ripped the film reel and taped another piece of movie over it.

the lights dimmed. the music stopped. everything blurred. your breath came out visible, like fog. and niki looked at you without smiling this time. not cruelly. not kindly. just looking.

"he didn’t mean to scare you, you know." his voice was so thick it made your insides tremble.

you blinked. "what?"

"you’re not supposed to feel it this strong."

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. the booth dissolved around you. the lights disappeared. and then you were falling, stomach-lurching, skin searing.

you woke up with your hand clenched in your sheets and the inside of your mouth tasting like copper. your body was soaked in sweat. the window was fogged over. your throat felt raw. every muscle in your body ached like you had been sprinting in your sleep.

by the time you sat up, your phone said it was 6:02 a.m.

you didn’t think. didn’t even wash your face. you just threw on your thickest hoodie, dragged yourself into your boots, and called a cab. you needed a hospital. something was wrong. your body had been telling you for weeks. you were just finally ready to listen.

you grabbed your keys off the kitchen counter with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. not dramatically — just this quiet, persistent tremor, like your body was trying to ring some kind of alarm your brain still hadn’t heard.

your hoodie felt too hot and not warm enough at the same time, clinging to the sweat still clinging to your skin. your breath fogged the front door glass. you ignored the mirror by the entrance completely. you already knew you looked like shit.

stepping out into the hallway was like stepping underwater. the building was so quiet it felt wrong — not peaceful, but hollow, like it had been emptied out moments before you arrived.

your boots were too loud against the marble, each step echoing in a way that made your stomach twist. and then you pressed the button for the elevator.

you pressed the button. the elevator arrived.

and that’s when you saw him. a someone you have never seen properly.

red hair. tall. face like someone who didn’t try to look good, just was. hands in his pockets. bored expression. headphones around his neck, not on. you blinked, confused for half a second — and then your brain clicked into place. heeseung. that’s what niki had said. the quiet one. the scary one. the one that belonged to your hot set of neighbors that had disappeared for two whole weeks.

you’d never actually spoken to him. hell, you’d never even seen him this close before. just glimpses inside their apartment once, whispers in passing. but now, at 6:13 a.m., in your half-dead state, he was standing in the elevator like some glitch in your morning programming.

heeseung didn’t look at you at first. just shifted slightly, like he wasn’t expecting company. and then — his nose twitched.

subtle. sharp. 

just like niki had done that night after the incident.

and then he turned. slowly. deliberately. his eyes scanned your face, dropped to your hands, then back up again — like he was taking inventory. like you were… something.

he didn’t say anything. didn’t smile. but he definitely noticed you.

you stepped inside anyway. because you had to. because your chest felt too tight and your throat burned and if you didn’t sit down in a sterile waiting room within the hour you were pretty sure your organs would give out.

heeseung moved slightly to the side, still watching you out of the corner of his eye. the doors closed. the elevator began to descend.

you focused on the panel, the numbers lighting up one by one. he didn’t speak. didn’t clear his throat. didn’t reach for his headphones. he just… stood there. completely still.

you were too exhausted to care. too sick to feel awkward. too scared to ask why, when his nose twitched again, his throat visibly tightened — like he was resisting the same instinct you’d seen flood sunghoon’s eyes on that rooftop.

the elevator dinged softly as it reached the lobby, the sound barely registering through the static in your skull. your limbs moved before your mind could catch up — muscle memory, maybe. or sheer desperation. you stepped out, blinking under the fluorescent lights, the air colder here, sharper, like it hadn’t been used all night.

heeseung didn’t follow immediately. you paused, slow, turning your head slightly, just enough to see him still inside the elevator, standing exactly where he’d been the entire ride down. his gaze flicked toward you. brief. unreadable.

and then he turned — not toward the glass exit like you had, but deeper into the building. no words. no goodbye. just a quiet pivot on his heel and footsteps swallowed by the corridor tiles. gone. like he hadn’t just stared at you like you were something he almost recognized.

you stood there for a moment, dazed. the outside world waited on the other side of the sliding doors, all grey sky and early winter air, your breath already fogging against the glass. you were still half-drenched in cold sweat, your hoodie clinging to your spine, fingers twitching with leftover dream static.

then, as if on cue, headlights flashed against the curb. your cab.

you pushed through the doors. the cold hit you instantly — fresh and cutting, but grounding. you stumbled more than stepped toward the car, collapsing into the backseat with all the grace of a wet noodle.

you didn’t look back. not at the building. not at the glass doors. not at the place where heeseung had disappeared.

you just pulled the door closed, gave the driver the hospital name, and leaned your head against the window.

whatever was happening to your body — whatever strange, slow collapse you were crawling through — you were done ignoring it.

—— 

the ride to the hospital was slow. slower than it should’ve been for a six a.m. trip with no traffic, but maybe that was just your body dragging time behind it.

every turn of the cab made your stomach lurch, your pulse throb at the base of your skull like a broken metronome. you curled tighter into your hoodie, eyes half-shut, watching the city yawn awake through the fogged window.

streetlights flickered out. bakeries opened metal shutters. someone walked their tiny dog in a matching jacket. the world was still spinning, business as usual — but your body hadn’t gotten the memo.

hospitals were never your favorite place. you’d spent too many late afternoons in one, slumped beside your dad while he slept through chemo, trying to balance a school textbook on your knees and pretend you weren’t thirteen and terrified.

back then, hospitals smelled like antiseptic and fear. now, they smelled like routine and something sour rising in your throat.

the emergency wing was mostly empty when you stumbled in, barely able to speak past the burn in your chest.

they made you sit. take a number. the nurse who called you in was young, her ponytail too tight and her smile too professional to be comforting. she took your temperature, your blood pressure, asked how long you’d been feeling this way — and your answers were all a blur of shrugs and mumbles.

she furrowed her brow. called in someone else. another nurse. a maybe-doctor. you were poked, prodded, and ultimately left with a note scrawled on hospital paper and a prescription for the most generic painkillers known to man.

nothing definitive. no test results. no dramatic diagnoses. just vague nods and “it’s probably viral” and “get some rest.”

you’d nearly laughed in their faces. but your lungs hurt too much.

you’d barely made it down the hallway before your phone slipped out of your fingers twice while trying to open the ride app. the nurse at reception gave you a pamphlet about hydration and a smile like she thought you were dramatic, and maybe you were — you were twenty-three, chronically underslept and iron-deficient.

of course you were dramatic. but you were also right. something was wrong. they just didn’t have the equipment to name it.

the cab smelled like mint gum and cigarettes, and the driver didn’t ask questions, which was kind of perfect. you stared out the window the whole ride back, watching the city flicker past in washed-out gray. your throat burned, and your stomach rolled, and there was only one place your body wanted to collapse.

and then, finally, the seonghyeon jaega building came into view — dark, looming, stupidly expensive. familiar. you tipped the driver more than you should’ve and slid out without a word.

you stumbled into the lobby like a cartoon ghost, hoodie strings dangling, hospital paper crumpled in one hand. this time, the doorman was there — the one with the dead fish eyes and the ridiculous thermos with a cartoon shark on it, hyunwoo, you think.

he looked up from his crossword and smiled politely.

“good morning, miss.”

you nodded, tried for a smile, something automatic. it barely stretched across your face. “morning.”

he didn’t press. just nodded back, went back to his puzzle like you weren’t the walking dead in fuzzy socks.

your chest was still tight by the time the elevator closed behind you. your fingers fumbled the painkillers into your mouth like muscle memory. water, swallow, sigh.

the elevator doors closed with that same slow, deliberate finality they always had, like the building itself was chewing you up and giving you a moment to realize it. you leaned your back against the mirrored wall, the cold glass seeping through the cheap fabric of your oversized hoodie. underneath, you were still wearing the thermal pajamas you’d left the house in — flannel with little blue bears on them. cute, in theory. tragic, in the fluorescence of an elevator that smelled like metal and lemon cleaner.

the temperature was impossible to pin down. too warm around your neck, but your fingers felt icy. your breathing grew shallow — not panicked, exactly, just... off. like your lungs were trying to inflate through a coffee straw. your legs ached, your spine was stiff, and your vision flickered at the edges like a dying film reel.

and then there was the music.

soft, aimless, infuriatingly cheerful — some instrumental jazz cover of a pop song you couldn’t name. it filled the silence like a joke you weren’t in on.

your head tilted back. your eyes slipped closed just for a second.

your knees wobbled.

you didn’t even notice the bell ding — didn’t realize the elevator had reached your floor until the doors sighed open, cool air brushing against your clammy face. you blinked once. twice. the hallway felt darker than usual. not unlit — just dim in that way that made shadows stretch longer. 

and that’s when you heard it.

music. faint, pulsing through the air — not elevator music, but actual music. bass, low and smooth, like a party was happening behind closed doors.

your neighbors. their apartment. the one that had been silent for two full weeks. you hadn’t seen any of them. not even a sliver of a shadow beneath their door. but now, someone was definitely inside.

you stood frozen, one hand halfway inside your hoodie pocket, searching for your keys. the motion felt foreign now, like your limbs belonged to someone else. you looked down — or tried to — but the world tilted slightly, just enough to make your breath catch.

your fingers felt too thick, your palms too sweaty. and your vision… it was wrong. blurry in the center, like someone had smeared vaseline over your pupils.

it hit you, then — the vertigo, sudden and sharp. like your body had lost the plot entirely, like it was trying to reject gravity itself.

your knees buckled, and you had to lock them to stay upright. the hallway stretched before you, distorted and too quiet. like it was holding its breath.

you tried to laugh. just a small, sarcastic breath. but it came out wrong.

if this was how it ended, death in fuzzy socks and blue bear pajamas, you hoped the morgue at least had the decency to change your clothes.

your hand was still braced against the wall when your vision gave out for real.

it started at the edges — a gray blur creeping inward, slow and soft like fog rolling off the ocean. and then came the ringing. a high, steady whine that drowned out everything else.

you blinked hard, tried to shake it off, maybe whisper a curse to yourself just to prove you were still awake, still standing, still you. but your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth. your body didn’t move. it just paused — like a system crash in real time.

you took one step.

the floor shifted beneath you, or maybe it was the hallway that leaned — you couldn’t tell. all you knew was that the walls started breathing. that was the only way you could explain it.

the plaster pulsed like lungs. the light above you buzzed louder. the key in your hand slipped again, bounced once on the tile with a sound that echoed way too loud for something so small.

you tried to grab it.

you didn’t make it.

your knees folded first — no drama, no warning. just gone. the weight of your body hit the floor with a dull thud. your cheek pressed against the cold tile.

it felt good, almost. like sinking into something solid after floating too long. your ribs ached from the fall, or maybe they’d been aching for days and this was just the last straw.

you saw the elevator doors closing in your peripheral. heard the soft whirr of them sealing shut. somewhere behind your eyes, the pressure built. like something ancient and wrong was trying to crawl out.

and then darkness. not unconsciousness, not yet — just a deepening shade. like the hallway was dimming just for you.

then came the black. final and quiet.

you didn’t hear the door open across the hall. you didn’t see the figure step into the light. you didn’t know someone had been watching.

——

you came to like a body surfacing from black water — slowly, painfully, limbs cold and heavy, breath dragging itself in ragged pieces through your nose. your eyelids were leaden. every blink took effort.

the world behind them was gray, not quite dark, not quite light, just there, suspended and quiet like someone had pressed pause on the air itself.

your head ached. not the sharp pain of migraines, but the dull, submerged throb of something deeper, more systemic. like your blood was moving wrong inside you. like your insides had been shuffled, then stitched back together under anesthesia.

but you weren’t numb. no — there was sensation. your skin felt… balsamic. cooled over. like someone had run ice across your arms hours ago and it still hadn’t melted.

the air in your lungs was stale, metallic. your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

you didn’t open your eyes at first. couldn’t. the weight of your body was too much. even the pulse behind your knees hurt. even your fingertips tingled with the kind of exhaustion that belonged to the sick — not the tired. the sick.

you didn’t remember falling asleep.

you didn’t remember making it back to your apartment.

hell, you didn’t remember getting off the elevator.

eventually, after a few minutes — maybe longer — you managed to open your eyes halfway. the ceiling was the first thing you noticed: tall, shadowed, vaguely ornate in the dark, like you were looking at it underwater. not your ceiling. not your room.

your pulse spiked. something primal stirred in your ribs. you shifted, just slightly, and the sheets under your skin told you everything — they were too soft. too expensive. too not-yours. you registered the faint smell of something woodsy and warm — bergamot, maybe. something layered, complicated. familiar.

but the rest of the room came in pieces. the walls, dark and blurred. curtains, still drawn. a dresser with gold accents, a lamp too dim to see the switch. shadows shifted in the corner.

and that’s when it hit you.

you weren’t at home. not yours, at least.

you swallowed, throat raw. you tried to shift your head, to look, but even turning your neck felt like moving through water. 

the room swam as you turned, your eyes dragging across the edges of expensive shadow — velvet curtains pulled halfway closed, light bleeding through in soft golds and sickly grays.

the bed beneath you was too soft, the sheets too smooth, like they belonged in a hotel room or a catalog, not your life. you weren’t used to this kind of comfort. and now, it felt wrong.

you blinked hard, vision blurring again, and finally the rest of the room began to settle into focus. a dresser — vintage. gold-framed mirror with a crack near the corner. a collection of books lined up too neatly. and coats. coats you didn’t recognize, thrown carelessly on a chair too clean to be real.

and then — the unmistakable curve of a shoulder. the long shadow of someone standing still.

you froze. someone was there. no.

not someone. multiple someones.

you couldn’t move your neck fast enough to catch all of them at once, but you didn’t need to. the room felt occupied. the atmosphere itself buzzed with quiet attention, like your awakening had flipped a switch you couldn’t see.

your vision tilted sideways and that’s when you caught it: a tall figure near the corner. motionless. arms crossed. sharp silhouette, too familiar.

niki.

your chest pulled tight. not with relief — not exactly. something in your body recoiled before your brain could make sense of it, like it hadn’t decided yet if his presence meant safety or danger.

you blinked once. twice. tried to clear your sight, tried to will away the syrupy haze still coating your lashes. but the outline remained. long limbs. black clothes. the way his weight shifted from one foot to the other, lazy, like standing upright was an inconvenience.

you should’ve felt comforted. he was the only face you recognized here. but instead, your muscles locked into something colder.

slowly, pieces started dropping into place, memories unrolling in the back of your skull like loose film: the elevator buttons glowing too slow. the air going stale. your ears ringing. fumbling for your keys. the elevator music mocking you with that stupid, upbeat jazz. your knees giving out. music from a nearby apartment — one you hadn’t heard life from in two full weeks — and then nothing.

darkness.

and now — this.

you shifted your eyes again, dragging your vision past the edge of the dresser, and there it was. someone else. younger, maybe. shorter than niki but not smaller — no, the space around him shrunk. like he was pulling it into himself.

he stood with his hands loosely clasped in front of him, hair parted too neatly, posture too perfect. he wasn’t looking at you. but your chest still caved a little the moment your gaze landed on him.

you didn’t know his name. hadn’t seen him around. but you had seen him once — blurred through the peephole on your first day here, flanked by the same crowd of sharp-dressed men. mafia, your brain had offered. or something worse.

he looked like he could kill someone with a sentence. and that if he did, he’d do it with impeccable grammar.

and then — the final one.

your eyes caught movement near the door. not coming in, not leaving — just standing there. someone with their back to you, broad shoulders squared, head tilted like they were listening to something you couldn’t hear.

his coat was expensive. dark. layered like he’d been pulled from a noir film and dropped straight into your fever dream. even from behind, you recognized him.

you didn’t know how. maybe the shape of him was burned into your brain now, maybe your blood had started mapping itself around the sound of his voice. but it was sunghoon. you knew it as sure as you knew your own name.

and despite every reason your brain tried to throw at you — the rooftop, the eyes, the way he looked at you like he was starving — your body… relaxed.

just a little.

and that scared you the most.

the realization landed with a thud — no drama, no crescendo. just a slow, icy spread of fuck.

your body recoiled, bones stiffening like it was trying to protect something inside of you that had already been exposed. because this was real. he was real. sunghoon. standing right there.

and that fact alone made everything else around you sharpen into clarity.

you had passed out. not inside your apartment, not in bed, not even in the privacy of your own little rented anonymity. no. you had passed out in the hallway. on a tuesday morning. in winter. wearing your dumbest socks and your oldest hoodie and whatever pride you had left.

and now you were here — not in a hospital, not even with a nurse — but in their apartment. his apartment. the place you’d only ever imagined from the other side of your thin wall. and you were being watched. by too many people. too many eyes.

but the worst part?

you still felt sick.

not flu sick. not tired or hungover or “i skipped breakfast” sick.

this was something else.

this was nausea curled around your spine like a snake. this was your blood running too fast, then too slow, like it couldn’t decide who it belonged to. your skin didn’t fit right. your limbs felt like borrowed furniture. and deep inside — somewhere between your lungs and your stomach — something was pulsing. thrumming.

you didn’t know what was happening to you.

but you knew it wasn’t natural. and it sure as hell wasn’t over.

your fingers twitched first.

just barely. just enough to make the blanket shift near your hip — a slow, traitorous movement that betrayed your consciousness before your eyes could.

you tried to stay still. to keep your breath shallow, chest frozen mid-rise. but your body had other plans. and the moment you shifted your hand again — not on purpose, just from the static ache of your joints — the air in the room changed.

you didn’t see them react at first. you felt it.

like the drop in pressure before a thunderstorm.

then a rustle. fabric brushing against leather. the creak of wood beneath shifting weight. soft, purposeful movements, like they were trying not to scare you. or maybe trying not to startle each other.

“she’s awake,” someone said, voice low. careful. male.

you didn’t know who it was — not yet — but it pulled your eyes open like a string had been yanked from behind them.

the blur cleared slowly, and then you saw it: niki had moved closer. crouched near the bed now, his usual smirk absent, replaced by something you didn’t recognize — not quite concern. not quite guilt. just… watching.

behind him stood the other man — shorter, more compact, but no less imposing. he looked at you like you were a puzzle he didn’t mind breaking apart to solve.

niki’s eyes didn’t leave your face, and for a moment, you could almost pretend this was a dream again. that none of this was real.

but the ache in your limbs, the heat still trapped under your skin, the taste of metal on your tongue — it all said otherwise.

niki looked at you with something that hovered between pity and worry — unfamiliar emotions when filtered through his usually unreadable face.

for some reason, that scared you more than anything else.

“you’re stabilizing faster than i thought.” it’s the first thing he says, slicing clean through the quiet and making your ears ring. the words hit you wrong — not just because of what they meant, but how they sounded. too casual. too clinical. like this was normal. like you were normal.

your face twisted on instinct, some pained reaction caught between confusion and disgust. your lips curled back, eyebrows pinched. it wasn’t even what he said — it was how he said it.

“jesus,” you muttered, pressing your palm to your temple, “did you always sound this annoying or is that a new post-trauma tone?”

niki didn’t laugh. just tilted his head slightly, like your bite had confirmed something for him. like he’d expected the fight. like he preferred it.

your voice sounded terrible — like gravel soaked in fire, your vocal cords rasping out their protest with the elegance of a dying cat.

the boy behind niki — the terrifying one with that calm, unreadable face — took a step back as soon as you spoke. not dramatically. not even with alarm. just a slow, calculated shift in weight, like the sound of your voice had confirmed something for him. like he hadn’t been expecting you to sound that wrecked.

your eyes cut to him instinctively, and for a second, all you could register was that air around him felt different — sharp, quiet, waiting.

what really made you feel awful — worse than the nausea, the fever dreams, the throat that burned like you’d swallowed sandpaper — was that sunghoon still hadn’t turned around.

he was right there. you knew that it was him, your brain was certain of it.

tall, straight-backed, motionless. staring at the door like it was going to solve all his problems if he just glared hard enough. you didn’t know what exactly you expected from him — maybe an apology, a grimace, a nod of acknowledgment — but definitely not this. not silence. not cold shoulders when your blood was still boiling in your veins like it was trying to cook you from the inside out.

how dare he not stare at you like his other two friends were doing right now. how dare he not even glance at you now that you were awake.

you hated that you were hyper-aware of his silhouette. that you recognized the slope of his shoulders already. that, even without looking at his face, you could tell he was tense. worse than that, you hated that the tension didn’t feel rooted in indifference. it felt rooted in guilt.

or shame.

was he fucking embarrassed?

good. he should be. he should be mortified, actually. you blamed all of this on him. every fever spike. every migraine. every dream that left your sheets soaked (not in a good way) and your body aching in ways no human sickness had ever managed.

you blamed it on the way he had looked at you that night. like he was starving. like you weren’t real. like you were his.

you shifted slightly under the covers, the motion sending another wave of heat curling behind your eyes. your voice was wrecked, your body was failing, and your patience was hanging by a thread made of spite and caffeine withdrawal.

and then, through cracked lips and clenched teeth, you rasped:

“do you plan on facing me anytime soon, or should i just keel over again while you brood in a corner?”

niki and jungwon glanced at you, then back to sunghoon — the silence dragging, thick and charged. they weren’t saying anything, but the exchange between the three of them was unmistakable.

it felt like waiting for a bomb to go off. or a verdict to drop. you didn’t like it. didn’t like being the center of some unspoken tension you didn’t understand, didn’t cause, didn’t even want to be a part of.

you felt the tension, too. but not the romantic kind, not the kind that sizzled in books or made girls blush in school hallways. no, this was the kind that crawled under your skin and nested there. this was physical. literal.

your body had latched onto sunghoon like a tuning fork the second your eyes opened in this weird room, and his silence was making it worse — like your cells were offended.

like something primal inside you was throwing a tantrum, demanding acknowledgment. and the longer he stood with his back to you, the more your nerves twisted.

you were sick. god, you were sick. not just flu-sick or stress-sick — something else. something worse. it was spreading now, minute by minute, like acknowledging sunghoon in the same room was gasoline thrown on a fire you’d been trying to smother.

your head pounded, your stomach twisted, your limbs buzzed like your blood had turned carbonated. this wasn’t anxiety. it wasn’t psychosomatic. it felt like your entire body was trying to make you get his attention — or punish you until you did.

and honestly? this was embarrassing. not just uncomfortable or inconvenient — embarrassing. your brain was offended by the sheer audacity of your own body, reacting like this on a tuesday morning, no less.

like what, did your bloodstream forget the concept of normalcy? you were sweating through your clothes, your eyes were stinging, your limbs were shaking, and sunghoon — the root of all this insanity — hadn’t even looked at you.

what the fuck was your problem?

you didn’t know. you couldn’t name it. you just felt it — wrong, off, tilted. like the world had taken a sharp left and forgot to tell you.

you shifted again, groaning under your breath. you hated that you were still wearing your ridiculous blue pajamas under your outer clothes, soaked through with sweat despite the sub-zero weather. your skin felt clammy, your hands trembling against the silky throw blanket that wasn’t yours.

you hated that your mind was starting to spiral — that part of you was honestly considering the possibility that you were going insane.

or maybe… maybe not insane.

maybe they were exactly what they looked like.

sunghoon. niki. the terrifying man with the unreadable stare. even the one with the red hair and sharp profile you saw earlier in the elevator. they didn’t move like regular people. didn’t talk like regular people. and you’d read enough books — watched enough late-night documentaries with your dad — to know that this wasn’t just exhaustion anymore.

it felt like you were part of something unnatural.

and god, the thought of even entertaining this? it was ridiculous. not in the cute, ironic way where you half-believe your horoscope and laugh about mercury being in retrograde — no. this was full-blown absurdity. the kind of absurdity that scraped the edges of delusion.

believing in vampires wasn’t the problem. of course they existed. humanity had shared space with another species for centuries. that wasn’t up for debate. they were in the history books, the legal records, the school curriculum.

you had taken a literal midterm in middle school about post-war vampire rights. designer blood banks. the civil coexistence acts of the 1950s. it wasn’t a mystery. it just wasn’t relevant anymore — at least not to you. not in your life.

but this? the idea that they were here — your neighbors? that one of them — maybe more than one — had looked at you and decided something behind those sharp eyes? that one of them could’ve… claimed your attention? affected your body in a way you didn’t even understand?

no. absolutely not. you weren’t that girl. you refused to be that girl.

you didn’t realize you were breathing hard until the unnamed one — the quiet one with the suffocating presence — finally spoke.

“she’s peaking again.”

his voice wasn’t loud. but it was clear. measured. like he was stating a fact about the weather, or about war.

you blinked. tried to sit up again — a stupid, impulsive act, born not of logic but of panic. the kind that crawled up your spine when the world felt too heavy, too strange, too wrong. you wanted to ask what he meant by that, what was his name, but you felt panic instead.

the blanket covering you was soft, maybe even expensive, but it felt like lead pressing your bones into the mattress. too thick, too warm, too intentional.

you clawed at it, fingers shaking, limbs weak and disobedient. your shoulder burned with the effort of moving half an inch, and the moment you tried to raise your head, the blood in your skull surged like a wave crashing against a too-small shore.

and then, finally, he moved.

not much — not dramatically — but enough for every cell in your body to register the shift. a shoulder rolled back, barely. a hand unclenched at his side. his head tilted, slowly, as if listening to something only he could hear.

and then, almost reluctantly, like it cost him something, sunghoon turned.

his body twisted first, then his face, the shadows catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his neck.

his hair looked darker in here, like ink had soaked through the strands, and it framed his face in a way that made your stomach twist. but it wasn’t the usual twist. not awe. not that stupid crush-thrill that had haunted your bloodstream weeks ago.

this was something else.

his eyes found yours — and stayed there.

and god, he looked tired.

not in the human way. not sleep-deprived or hungover. but hollowed-out. like someone had reached into his chest and scooped something vital out and left him barely functioning.

his cheekbones were sharper, his skin too pale under the warm light. he wasn’t perfect anymore. not in the haunting, statuesque way you remembered from the rooftop. now he looked… worn. real. something tugged at the corner of his mouth, not quite a frown. not quite anything.

and then it happened. the second his eyes fully met yours — that aching, gnawing illness that had been feasting on your nerves for two weeks cracked. like glass under heat.

your breath hitched. your ears popped. you blinked, and suddenly you could breathe.

the pain that had curled up beneath your ribs for days loosened, just like that. the weight behind your eyes lifted. your limbs still ached, yes, but something shifted — unmistakably — in your bloodstream. like your cells remembered how to work again. like they’d been waiting for him.

you stared, open-mouthed. because what the fuck.

you tried moving your toes — and felt all of them. you blinked once. twice. your vision wasn’t swimming anymore. the walls stopped melting at the edges. when you sat up, the room didn’t tilt sideways. your head didn’t lurch. your chest didn’t pull tight. nothing throbbed. nothing screamed.

you stared at your hands like you’d never seen them before, like they belonged to someone else. you flexed your fingers. no tremble. no twitch.

what the actual hell.

you ran a quick mental diagnostic, the kind your body had trained you into these past two weeks. 

legs? check. 

feet? check. 

shoulders? solid. 

ears? blessedly unclogged. 

your stomach growled, sharp and dramatic, like it was protesting the way you’d ignored it for days. you touched your forehead, your neck. no fever. no chills. just warm. human. whole.

you were sitting up. fully. like a normal person. and it was terrifying.

because, what in the vampire diaries was this? you weren’t stupid. people didn’t just collapse in a hallway at 7 a.m. and wake up completely cured in a stranger’s guest bed with three unsettlingly hot men watching from the corners of the room like this was twilight fanfiction on crack.

you were hungry. you were confused. and you were so fucking exhausted. because even if your body had stopped screaming, your brain hadn’t caught up. and the worst part? sunghoon was still staring. 

and your heart was still doing that thing — that pulling thing — like it wanted to beat in time with his.

he didn’t say anything at first — none of them did. they just stood there, still and watching, like they were marveling at something sacred. like your ability to sit up without grimacing was some impossible phenomenon they hadn’t planned for. 

and yes, you felt like a miracle too. a tiny one. a quiet one, sitting in borrowed sweatpants and last night’s hoodie, in a room that didn’t belong to you. but now wasn’t the time to feel flattered.

not when three strangers — supernatural or not — were staring like you’d just pulled a sword out of stone.

you cleared your throat. it was the only sound in the room. your stomach growled again, louder this time, and you winced. no one laughed.

finally — finally — sunghoon moved.

his shoulders rose with a quiet inhale, and then dropped again like it physically cost him something. he didn’t step forward. didn’t close the gap between you. he just turned his head slightly, enough to look at you fully now, no barriers.

his eyes were darker than you remembered — not just in color, but in weight. like he hadn’t slept since the last time you saw him. like whatever edge had once made him look untouchable had dulled into something heavier. human, almost. except not. never.

his voice, when it came, was low. steady. practiced. but you could hear it — that thread of something cracked beneath the surface. not regret. not guilt. something older. 

“you weren’t supposed to feel it this strongly.” and just like that, your pulse dropped into your stomach. 

because what the fuck was that supposed to mean?

you blinked. once. twice. your body had just gone from full-system meltdown to sudden clarity in the span of — what? ten seconds? the math didn’t add up. the science didn’t add up.

and now you had a boy — no, a man, a something — standing in front of you, speaking like this was all part of a manual. a protocol.

“excuse me?” you rasped, voice still barely more than sandpaper dragged across metal. your chest felt tight again, but this time from sheer indignation. “what do you mean feel it? feel what?”

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. behind him, niki let out a breath — not a sigh, more like a slow exhale that made you want to throw a pillow at someone.

the other one — terrifying, well-dressed, probably-did-taxes-at-5-a.m. mafia looking guy — finally stepped forward like he was about to explain something official, something devastating.

but all you could focus on was the way sunghoon’s jaw clenched. how he didn’t look away. how he looked like he hated that you were asking. 

and suddenly, you were fuming. not the dramatic, cinematic kind of anger that makes you throw vases and scream into the rain. no. this was worse. it was the kind of white-hot rage that made your hands go cold and your thoughts get sharp. the kind that brewed in the back of your skull like static.

because what the actual kind of fucking sorcery was this? 

you had just woken up in a stranger’s — correction, a vampire’s — bedroom, after two weeks of progressively dying in slow motion, only to be cured by a pair of stupidly symmetrical cheekbones and a statement that sounded like a deleted scene from twilight: the bureaucratic cut.

you flung the covers off with all the rage of a disney villain in her final act. “okay,” you started, voice still wrecked but gaining steam, “somebody’s going to tell me what the hell is going on. and i swear, if the word stabilizing gets thrown around again, i’m going to stab someone with your vintage coat hanger.”

niki winced. the mafia guy blinked like he wasn’t used to being threatened before breakfast. and sunghoon — oh, sunghoon — had the audacity to look guilty.

“no one thought to leave a note?” you spat, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “a sticky note? a voice memo? a ‘hey, just for your information, you’re about to experience soul-level cardiac arrest, but don’t worry, it’s a normal thing?’”

“we didn’t think you’d feel it this strong,” niki tried again, cautiously.

you narrowed your eyes. “you already said that. say something new or i swear i’ll start singing gospel.”

sunghoon finally looked like he might actually say something, but you were already on a roll. 

“do you people just hang out in designer clothes waiting for humans to drop dead in your hallways? is that your little fun pastime? is that why the gym’s always empty now, niki? were you all just sitting up here like, ‘oh, don’t worry, she’s just experiencing a little metaphysical collapse, she’ll be fine?’”

they all looked at you, quiet. not surprised — no, you weren’t lucky enough to have shocked them — but almost… contemplative.

you stood up, or tried to. your knees buckled slightly, but you powered through, fueled by indignation and a decade’s worth of unresolved parental issues. “i want answers,” you snapped. “and water. probably water first. but then answers.”

sunghoon finally, finally, moved toward you. slow. cautious. like you were a scared animal. or a bomb. (which, okay, fair.)

his voice was robotic, weird when he spoke. “you weren’t supposed to react like this.”

you tilted your head, deadpan. “oh, wow, thank you so much for that astounding medical diagnosis. i’ll be sure to write that down in my death journal.”

sunghoon’s jaw ticked, he seemed in pain. “it means we need to explain. all of it.”

sunghoon sat down.

that, in itself, felt like a betrayal. for a full minute, none of them had moved — like you were something volatile, like one wrong breath might set you off again. but then he finally took a breath and lowered himself into the chair across from you.

it was the way he moved that made your throat clench — careful, controlled, like sitting too fast might shake the ground beneath you.

his expression was unreadable, jaw tight, shoulders squared like this was an interrogation and not a conversation. and then he spoke.

“you’re not dying,” he said first. like he needed that part on record.

you raised an eyebrow. “thanks, doctor. next diagnosis?”

niki let out a quiet snort from where he leaned against the wall, arms folded, one boot tapping lightly against the floor. sunghoon ignored you both.

again, he seemed... weird. robotic.

“what’s happening to you,” he continued, voice low, measured, almost too calm, “is rare. it’s not supposed to happen anymore.”

you blinked. slowly. your brain took the words in like they were pieces from different puzzles. “you mean… like a sickness?”

“not a sickness,” sunghoon said. “more like… a reaction.”

he paused then. visibly debated what to say next. that’s when the third one — the one you now associated with do-not-fuck-around energy — stepped forward. the shorter guy. black coat, buzzed undercut, broad shoulders.

there was a tattoo creeping out from his collarbone, just a sliver of black ink crawling up his neck. when he finally spoke, it was without inflection.

“she doesn’t need the full story yet.”

sunghoon didn’t even look at him. “she deserves to know what’s happening to her.”

niki raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t speak. instead, you locked eyes with sunghoon again and asked, “what kind of reaction?”

he exhaled. “soulmate.”

you laughed. out loud. an ugly, sputtering noise. “are you fucking serious?”

niki grinned. “oh no, she’s reacting like a normal person. i like her.”

sunghoon’s mouth twitched. not a smile. maybe pain. maybe something else.

“it’s not common,” he said, softer now. “not anymore. vampires used to… imprint. or whatever you want to call it. we’d form bonds. it was mutual. chemical. metaphysical. the human would feel it. the vampire would feel it. but it hasn’t happened in decades. not since the accords. not since—”

“humans stopped mingling with your kind?” you asked.

“not since both sides decided it was too dangerous.”

that made you pause. your throat was still dry. your hands clenched the blanket around your waist like it might anchor you back into reality. “dangerous how?”

“for you,” the shorter dude said this time. his voice was razor clean. “not for us.”

niki sighed. “it’s like a hormone overdose. a body-wide meltdown. like your system’s trying to recalibrate to match something it doesn’t understand.”

you scoffed. “and the something is you?”

sunghoon didn’t answer. but his silence did.

and that’s when something inside you shifted. clicked. because even if this sounded like delusional bullshit, your body was nodding along. it made too much sense. the fever. the dreams. the sudden gravitational pull toward a man you’d barely spoken to. the way your pain had vanished the second he’d looked at you.

“so let me guess,” you said slowly, “i’m your little imprint? your cosmic girlfriend? lucky me.”

sunghoon flinched. just slightly. “it doesn’t work like that.”

“doesn’t it?” you asked, voice rising.

and then — the twist.

“you’re not the only one who got sick,” the scary dude said. calm. final.

the room stilled. niki looked up. sunghoon closed his eyes. your breath caught.

“…what?”

“sunghoon’s been sick too,” niki offered, quieter than usual. “not the same way. but bad enough we had to cancel everything. bad enough he couldn’t feed. bad enough he barely stood up until yesterday.”

your mouth went dry. “what does that mean?” you asked, but your voice sounded distant even to yourself — like it had been dragged through water, then filtered through static.

was it too much to know? absolutely not. not for your overactive brain that consumed conspiracy podcasts like candy. but feeling it — sitting here, blanket bunched around your waist like armor, stomach churning, heartbeat crawling under your skin like something foreign — that was the hard part.

this didn’t feel like a reveal. it felt like a slow, rotting realization you hadn’t asked for.

you swallowed, throat raw. maybe it would be better if you passed out again. at least then, you wouldn’t have to process the idea that one of your neighbors — a hot, emotionally unavailable, glacial-faced vampire, apparently — had also been in a near-comatose state because of you.

great. incredible. what a legacy.

soulmate? imprint? some long-lost paranormal bond that now had you sharing symptoms like some twisted long-distance couple flu? no, thank you. return to sender.

you opened your mouth to say something clever — something biting and cruel and devastating — but nothing came. your lips parted and then closed again, your body betraying you in the worst of ways.

your eyes flicked back to sunghoon.

his hands were clenched in his lap. his cheekbones were sharper than usual, like he’d lost weight. there was a vein visible beneath his jaw. and when he finally raised his head to meet your eyes again, the exhaustion behind them wasn’t just physical. it was soul-deep.

“you were the first human i’ve spoken to in years,” he said, voice barely above a breath.

that made your stomach turn.

niki shifted, almost like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

the mafia looking guy just crossed his arms tighter and stared, waiting — like this wasn’t new to him.

you blinked once. then again. your body still wasn’t reacting the way it should — no more pain, no more fever, no more frost behind your eyes. but your mind? your mind was racing.

“this is insane,” you muttered, because someone had to say it.

“agreed,” niki chirped. “but hey, at least you didn’t throw up. the last one did.”

“niki.”

“what? i’m comforting her.”

you didn’t laugh. couldn’t. your body was still deciding whether to fight or flee.

niki broke the silence first again after minutes of no one breathing. of course he did.

“well, the good news is you’re probably not gonna die,” he said, rocking back slightly on his heels where he’d crouched again beside your bed. “probably.”

you blinked at him slowly. deadpan. your expression alone could’ve been used to file a restraining order.

he raised both hands. “hey. optimism. it’s a dying art.”

from behind him, the man in the coat shifted for the first time. he didn’t look at you. didn’t even acknowledge niki’s running mouth. just turned his head toward sunghoon with an unreadable expression and said, voice like a closing door: 

“she needs rest.”

sunghoon didn’t argue. maybe he couldn’t. there was something off about him now that you were fully awake, fully conscious — something glassy in the way he held himself, like his body wasn’t all the way his.

the man placed a hand on his shoulder, and sunghoon moved. slow. obedient. not like himself.

you watched them go. watched their silhouettes shift through the doorway. neither of them looked back.

the moment the door shut, niki let out a long breath through his nose and flopped — not gracefully — into the armchair near the window. it creaked under his weight. he didn’t seem to care.

“so. fun fact,” he started, adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie. “your new boyfriend? yeah, he’s been high for the past three days.”

you stared. “what?”

niki gestured vaguely, like that explained everything. “inhibitors. cocktail of them. pretty top-shelf stuff. he’s, like, five thousand newtons of vampire strength wrapped in a sculpted jawline, so—” he clicked his tongue, “—we kinda had to knock him out the hard way.”

you blinked. again. “we?”

niki looked pleased with himself. leaned in like he was about to share a bedtime secret.

“took all six of us. and i mean all of us. it was like trying to sedate a tank. even then, he almost won. but we found the right combo. he’s on it now. dulled his receptors, numbed his instincts.”

your stomach curled slightly. “why?”

niki’s smile dimmed. not gone — just quieter.

“because,” he said, “he would’ve come for you.”

you didn’t respond.

he leaned back again, eyes flicking toward the ceiling. his voice, when he spoke again, had that same dry humor, but underneath it — something else. something brittle.

“we had to leave,” he said, almost like a confession. “jungwon-hyung’s family has a camp house. middle of nowhere, no cell service, no risk of you running into him if he… broke through. that’s why the building was dead. we took him far. like, drive-five-hours-and-still-hear-his-teeth-clench far.”

you stared, unmoving. your hands were still clammy against the covers. your chest still felt like someone had scraped it hollow and filled it with something cold.

niki scratched his jaw. “it was either that or lock him in the basement. which, by the way, sunghoon would never let happen. pride and all. so, road trip it was.”

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“don’t look at me like that,” he added, side-eyeing you. “it’s not like we knew this would happen. we don’t do this soulmate thing. not anymore. not since—” he paused, teeth clicking together. “never mind. point is: it’s rare. it’s old. and you? you weren’t supposed to feel it this strong.”

your breath hitched. that phrase again.

“but i did,” you muttered. “feel it.”

niki looked at you. quiet. unreadable for once.

then, almost gently: “yeah. you did and he did too.”

“i honestly thought this was bullshit,” niki went on, scratching behind his ear like he wasn’t casually upending your entire understanding of reality. “jake-hyung was the only one we knew who got tangled up with a human like that. we all thought it was a one-time glitch. but sunghoon? he was even worse. and i think it’s the age, you know? the older they are, the stronger the… pull.”

you didn’t move.

niki shrugged. “sunghoon-hyung is the most powerful among us. has been for a while. not that he brags about it or anything,” he added, eye-roll implied. “but this?” he gestured vaguely toward your body, the bed, the air. “this nearly broke him. we didn’t think—i mean. imprinting is beautiful, yeah, sure. sacred, whatever. but it’s a lot of fucking work. especially when it hits this hard.”

you still didn’t respond. your gaze had unfocused, lips parted slightly, shoulders slumped. and eventually, niki caught on.

“you okay?” he asked, voice gentler now, less performative.

you didn’t answer him. not right away.

because your thoughts had gone quiet. not blank — not numb — just… quiet. like the cold hush of a library, a cemetery, a paused dream. 

you were confused. obviously. angry, too — because what the fuck was imprinting and why the hell did it choose you, of all people? you were a mess. you were a scholarship kid with ramen-induced ulcers and mommy issues. not a mystical blood-linked soul beacon.

but still. somewhere beneath all that static, you felt it: a pinprick of something else. something smaller. softer. 

sunghoon had been sick. sick because of you. 

and not just sick, but fighting it. drugged. dragged across the country just to keep him from getting to you. you’d blamed him, cursed him in your head, built this whole miserable theory of him being cold and detached and cruel — but he’d been hurting, too. maybe even more than you.

niki watched you for a moment longer, like he was trying to figure out what version of you he was leaving behind. but he didn’t press. didn’t tease. didn’t smile.

“yeah,” he said, brushing invisible lint off his pants as he stood. “you should rest. the worst’s over. probably.”

you weren’t sure if that was meant to comfort you or just be vague on purpose, but you didn’t have the energy to dissect it.

he crossed the room with that same unhurried gait — loose-limbed, strangely quiet — and paused at the doorway. “someone’ll be around if you need anything,” he added, voice already softer, like he was already halfway out. “and if you wake up starving… don’t freak out. we left you snacks. normal ones.”

your lips twitched, almost a smile. “thanks.”

“don’t mention it,” he said, then looked at you over his shoulder, eyes gleaming under the low lighting. “really. don’t.”

the door clicked shut behind him with a softness you didn’t expect.

you lay there, for a long minute, staring at the ceiling. the silence in the room was different now — not heavy, not buzzing. just there. a presence instead of a pressure. you shifted under the covers, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, your limbs didn’t ache. your lungs didn’t pull tight. your stomach didn’t twist.

you closed your eyes, and your body let you.

this time, you didn’t dream of anything.

author's note: clap if you find respectful but feral sunghoon hot. yes, i will die on this hill. yes, our couple mught hate each other now but i swear they'll be all cute soon. thank you for reading! send me a request • my masterpost

taglist: @ikeugirly @vixialuvs @hoonprksung @kyunlov @verialuv @sagegreenhairclip @gal821 @nekkodiaries @httpenhoon @questionsdearreader @mynameis-rosie1 @ninistranaut @staygenesblog @stercul1a

[btsreadss]

ˋ 𑁍 ⨾ THE HALL OF BLACK MOTH BRIDES 、 ❨ 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑟 ❩

ghosts were real, that’s one thing that you knew for certain. when you marry the charming park jongseong, he sweeps you away to his gothic mansion that he lives in with his sister and away from all the tragedies your old life has dealt you. but, soon you find out that jay and his sister, along with the sinking mansion, harbors secrets that are too dark to keep hidden beneath the red clay the mansion sits on. with your ghostly visions and newfound ability to communicate with the dead, you learn that not all ghosts are made up of flesh and blood.

❛ 박종성 𝑥 𝑓!reader ❜ 𓈒𓈒 ❨ 歌 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ❩ 𓄵 𝓯𝒕. optometrist!jake & lady jimin!jay’s twin sister (oc) 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝖺𝗎, 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗍!𝗃𝖺𝗒, 𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋 ＆ 𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝟣𝟫𝟢𝟢𝗌 𝖺𝗎 ✴︎ 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰… 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘥𝘦𝘢��𝘩, 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦 ＆ 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴／𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘫𝘢𝘺, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘣𝘢… 𓏸 12OO 𝗼𝗳 27,OOO ╱ 𝓶. list ╱ 𝗲𝘀𝘁. 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗲 𝟯𝟬𝘁𝗵

( 𝓷 )。 aaaa here’s the teaser!! i’m so excited to write this, crimson peak is a movie i love so so much so i hope when this fic is finally released that i do it justice hehe~~ (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) let me know what you think of the teaser and if you’re excited for it!! enjoy!!! ♡♡♡

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏   ͏  ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏  ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ ASKS APPRECIATED!

Ghosts are real. This much, you know.

Snow whips through your loose hair and makes your haggard breath cloud like smoke in front of your face, hiding the range of emotions your expression shifts between. You stare at your bloodied hand hovering in front of you and the ruined, bloodied sleeve of your white nightgown, nearly frozen tears falling down your even colder bloody cheeks. The snow paints the already bare scenery a hazy white, covering anything and everything in sight, save for one singular color that is too overwhelming not to be seen. One color that is forever burned into the deepest and darkest corners of your memory, and one you’d never ever forget.

A deep crimson red.

Your breath comes out shaky and you almost couldn’t feel the wild frigid air nipping at your fingertips and blood-splattered nose. Nor could you almost not feel the pain in your cheek from the deep gash across it. Almost. You inhale sharply, letting the newfound emotions settle and linger inside of you like the sun coming up over the horizon. A new dawn awaits over the peaks of the dark spires that you turn your back towards.

Finally, you breathe out a sigh of relief. This one more steady.

The first time you saw a ghost, you were ten years old. The year was eighteen eighty-seven and the memory of your mother was still fresh in your mind, and the heartbreak of losing her was at the forefront of it. You still couldn’t grasp the fact that she was actually gone, that you wouldn’t ever be able to see her again—snuggle up to her when you were scared or twirl in front of her with one of your new dresses that she had made especially for you.

Perhaps, at least you once thought, that this was all a manifestation of your grief.

You would never be able to say goodbye to her, would never hear her last words to you that weren’t through a handwritten note passed down to you from your father.

At least, that’s what you thought until the night your mother came back.

Rain fell down hard from the nighttime sky and you swore that the house shook with each growl of thunder. You huddled in your bed, scared out of your mind to even move. By now, you would have ran to your parents bedroom and your mother would’ve tucked you in between her and your father so you could sleep through the rest of the night. But, she wasn’t here anymore, and your father had barely left the room they once used to share since the funeral. The only time you saw him these days were when he was bidding you goodbye before going to work.

The clock loudly ticked from outside of your door and filled the silent room. You kept your eyes trained on the door instead of the shadows dancing along the green floral wallpaper of your bedroom. Tick-tock, tick-tock. It droned on endlessly and made your heart race more and more with each move of the hand.

You turned away from it finally, deciding to try and finally get some sleep, and to the wall. Your breathing refused to slow and the fact that your back was now turned to your surroundings scared you even more, but you were a big girl now, and you had to be brave without your mother’s help.

Clutching the big, ruffled collar of your white nightgown, you were about to close your eyes when you noticed that the ticking clock suddenly stopped. Behind you, the door to your bedroom creaked open slowly. You brought a hand to your mouth and covered it. Your heart raced more and you prayed that it was just your father or the housekeeper as tears began to well up in your eyes.

With bated breath, you turned to look at the door. It was opened to the hallway and as you sat up from your bed, you watched a shadow crawl against the furthest wall down it and to the clock at the end of it. Long, shadowed fingers were outstretched across it until the hallway was basked into darkness and a dark figure stepped forward.

It wore a black dress and a long, black tattered veil over its face. The breath was stolen completely from your lungs along with the words that were stuck in your throat. All you could do for a moment was watch the woman, ragged breaths leaving your parted lips as you tried to gain back the oxygen, as she got closer and closer.

At first, you thought she might’ve been the housekeeper before you looked more closely. The shadowed woman was transparent and with each step forward it was almost as if smoke curled from her ghastly body. Before she could step inside your room, you quickly turned away and curled yourself into a ball, your body shaking as your eyes screwed shut and you tried to force sleep to come; but it refused.

You daringly opened your eyes again and watched as the shadow of the tattered woman laid over you like a thick blanket. Suddenly, a long ghostly hand grabbed your shoulder and the woman leaned over you. Black smoke surrounded you as she began to speak.

“My child,” the ghost started in the disfigured voice of your mother’s, her fingers were skeletal and so was her face. It reminded you of the last time you saw your mother alive and you quickly squeezed your eyes shut again, scared whimpers escaping through your clenched teeth. “When the time comes, beware of Crimson Peak.”

You couldn’t take it anymore and you flew forward, a piercing scream reverberating from your small body. You looked around your bedroom again for the woman, only to find it completely empty—the clock at the end of the hallway ticking away. You got up from your bed hesitantly and walked to the door, examining the hallway. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

It would be years before you would hear that disfigured voice of your mother’s again, the same warning on her black tongue—before you would even begin to understand her desperate plea. You know now that it was a warning from out of time, once that transcended it due to your mother’s love for you, and one that you came to understand only when it was entirely too late.

Black moths circled around the light in the hallway, the candlelight glow barely there from being outshined by the light from the moon pouring in through the hallway windows. You stepped forward into it, your white nightgown dragging along the floor despite you hiking it up a little to walk. Stopping before the light, you stared at the dancing creatures as one of them sacrificed itself to the flame and the other perched on the stand of the light without it.

More moths flittered throughout the hallway, moths that you had never seen before—and certainly not at the amount you saw before you. You didn’t know what to make of it, so you quietly stepped backwards into your bedroom and closed the door, shutting out the sound of the grandfather clock.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏   ͏  ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏  ͏ ͏͏ REBLOGS ◜◡◝ ASKS APPRECIATED!

✉️   ⦂   if you want to be added to the taglist, please either leave a reply or send me an ask!! i hope you’re just as excited for this fic as i am hehehe!!! ◟(๑•͈ᴗ•͈)◞

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ @innocygnet @heartikeu @tinycatharsis @prkhaven @jaylaxies @bambiihee @fangel @xylatox @whosserina @jellymochii @minaateez @everythingvirgoes @lvrs-street2mmorrow @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @sumsumtingz @riribelle @sunoosgfv

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

[btsreadss]

Bad Romance

*pairirng: CEO dad vampire Park Jay x baby-sitter human Girl

*pairirng: grumpy x sunshine

*pairirng: Jay has only one wish: to be a good father and always be there for his daughter. Jenù was born from a meaningless one-night stand, and six months after her birth, a staff member at the Park Society found a baby girl with forest-green eyes and tiny red flecks, Jay’s same smile, and the same birthmark on his neck. She came with a note from the girl who couldn’t handle becoming a mother—especially not to a child who was half-human, half-vampire. Since that day, a year and a half passed. Jay had fired over twenty babysitters human, vampire, witch, and more—until one day, Sunghoon’s girlfriend told her best friend, who was struggling financially, that Jay was looking for a new babysitter. From that moment on, your life, as well as Jay’s and Jenù’s, changed forever. You are bold, dangerous, always sarcastic and you adore Jenù. But to Jay, a vampire over 300 years old, you're a dangerous distraction, especially when you're around his daughter. He's gruff and strict, only softening when he's with her, and in his eyes, you're just a reckless young woman… with blood that tempts him too much and a mouth that's far too bold.

*pairirng: At first Jay finds you extremely annoying and thinks that you are just an irresponsible girl but slowly she falls in love with you, you love teasing him, Jenù (Jay’s daughter) many times takes your side, warnings, overprotective dad, a lot of kisses, bites, Blood reference, masturbation (f) reverse cowgirl, (bath sex) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) Jay would like to put on family with you, jealousy, white lies, possession, Jay is a secular vampire, +18, pet names (little human,treasure,maiden)

19k (🍷)

Being a twenty-two-year-old girl in Seoul in 2025 was a form of legalized fraud. When you were little, they told you that you could become anything if you behaved well if you were pretty and kind to everyone, if you got good grades both in school and at university—but it was all bullshit. At twenty-three, you had become an exhausted student, an underpaid barista, and a living statistic in Gen Z burnout.

You went back and forth from your university like it was a punishment mission: classes at 9 a.m., then a huge gap until 5 p.m., and in between a barista shift at a coffee shop that looked cute only on Instagram, infested with screaming fans and idol-themed drinks that all tasted like sugar, bubblegum, and despair. The café you worked at was in central Seoul, where all the K-pop agency buildings were, where the idols trained, andrecorded music and so every day, you had to witness a swarm of crazed fans coming in to buy coffee or snap photos just because, once, their favorite idol had taken a picture and signed an album at your "K-pop themed" café.

The coffee you served was awful, the K-pop playlist? As repetitive as a nightmare on a loop. And don’t even get started on the pay. It was trash. Only your vanilla-whipped cappuccino gave you some reason to exist in the morning as you walked into the shop, still with toothpaste in your mouth and zombie's eyes after staying up the night before to study. And it was that very coffee that saved you today. Your best friend was already sitting, stunning as always, with two cups in her hands, and she handed you one with a smirk.

"You look like a zombie but an adorable one!" she said, ruffling your hair. "I am a zombie. A living, labor-exploited zombie. Used and abandoned by God." You yawned and dropped into the chair with the dignity of a wrinkled T-shirt. She giggled, and you envied her a little always so fresh, fragrant, happy, dating a vampire CEO who took her around the world like she was a model and not a former student from your department.

"At least you have a boyfriend who takes you to Paris and New York. I’ve got a professor who smells like ginseng and depression," you said, eyeing the latest designer bag she had resting on her thighs and shivering at the sight of the bite marks from Sunghoon’s fangs. She bit her lip, which was never a good sign—especially since you’d known her since high school.

"Don’t be mad, okay?" she said with that pouty little smile, and you immediately rolled your eyes. "If you say ‘don’t be mad,’ it means I will be mad," you said, closing your eyes and resting your head on the table. "I gave your resume to Jay Park." You groaned and curled further into yourself. That name gave you chills worse than the morning cold.

Jay: the other CEO and Sunghoon’s business partner, one of the richest and most famous company owners in all of Korea. The aristocratic, brooding vampire with that predatory gaze, zero smiles and zero emotions.

"You’re insane," you snapped, glaring at your best friend. "He’s looking for a babysitter, and you love kids," she said like it was a normal thing to hand over your CV to that man. "Jay Park isn’t looking for a babysitter. He’s trying to scare the human race into extinction. And I don’t like him." "Don’t be dramatic. He has a daughter, and she’d adore you. Jenù is a sweetheart," your best friend said, sipping her cappuccino. "His daughter, maybe. He’d throw me into the Han River after my first yawn."

She laughed and leaned closer to you. "He’d give you room, board, and a real salary. No more rent. We could use my old apartment as an office or study space, and you could finally stop serving frappés or coffees with idol faces on top." You shivered again because deep down, the idea was horrible but the offer was tempting. And… the only beautiful thing about Jay Park was his daughter: Jenù. You’d seen her twice, and both times, you saw a small, shining heart trapped in the darkness of a broken father.

The Park Society building rose in the heart of Seoul like an elegant shadow: a black glass tower carved into the sky, surrounded by soft lights and windows that looked more like a Gothic castle than the headquarters of a modern multinational. It was a place where power had a very specific scent: amber, smoke, and control. With trembling fingers, you adjusted your spaghetti-straight hair as you stared at your reflection in the mirrored elevator. Your makeup was simple, almost student-like—or maybe too simple, considering all the perfect vampire women who worked for him—but the black blazer over your white shirt gave you just enough of a grown-up look to distract from your smart jeans and the only pair of heels you could walk in. In your mind, heels were for graduations, parties, or… interviews with billionaire vampires. You hated them, even though you studied fashion and knew a heel could turn any basic outfit into something chic. But when the doors opened, the scene was surreal. Humans rushed back and forth, buried under phones, laptops, and documents. Vampires, flawless like living statues, walked silently among them as if the entire world were a board game and they were the main pieces. Everyone moved under one name: Jay Park. Jay wasn’t just one of the most powerful vampires in Korea—he was a living legend in both the human and supernatural worlds. For over three centuries, he’d been turning bankrupt companies into empires, and random numbers into frighteningly accurate predictions. And then there was his charm: deadly, cold, magnetic. Yet somehow, every woman dreamed of having him. He was intelligent, carried himself like an old-world gentleman, always had a sharp remark ready, and was the kind of man or rather, creature who could break you with a single look or word. But for the past few years, the world had discovered one detail that made him… just a little bit human. He had become a father.

The news had exploded in the tabloids like a bomb. A half-human, half-vampire child had been found on the doorstep of the Park Society building, wrapped in a violet blanket with only a letter in her tiny hands. From that day forward, Jay Park swore he would give everything for Jenù, his daughter and he did. With obsessive control. With fierceness. With protection. With love. Jenù was adorable. Barely four years old, but already had the face of a little star: huge wine-colored eyes, golden skin inherited from her father, and a smile that melted even immortal hearts. Under her father’s strict supervision, she’d already become a model for famous brands—probably earning more in a month than you did in six. And you? You were just standing there with a crumpled resume in your bag, half a hope, and a heartbeat pounding way too fast. Because you knew—everyone knew—that Jay only wanted the best for his daughter. And he had already fired twenty-nine babysitters. You, with your all-too-human clumsiness, your big mouth, and your incurable curiosity, silently prayed not to become number thirty. You sat down on the black leather chair in front of the marble desk of his secretary, a woman in her fifties with a tight bun and a powder-pink tailored suit. She didn’t even look up from her screen as she said, in a monotone voice,

-Mr. Park and Miss Jenù are expecting you. You may go in.- The phone rang at that exact moment, and while she answered with chilling professionalism, she gave you a small hand gesture, pointing toward the dark double doors behind her.

When you stood up, your heart was beating in your temples, and your fingers clutched the strap of your bag tightly. Your heels, though uncomfortable, suddenly felt like they were made to give you strength. The secretary led you to the door, and just before opening it, she whispered with a hint of a smile, -Good luck.-

Yeah… that was already a bad sign. If Jay Park’s secretary told you good luck, you knew you were in trouble. But honestly, what did you have to lose?

Nothing. Worst case? He wouldn’t like you, and you'd see him maybe twice a year—at your best friend’s birthday and Sunghoon’s. So, when the door opened, a scent enveloped you instantly: the sugary sweetness of fruit gummies mixed with something much older, deeper, warmer… like aged whiskey in oak barrels and ancient blood.

The office was huge, silent, bathed in soft light filtering through heavy curtains. The desk stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked all of Seoul, and behind it, staring at his monitor, was Jay Park. He was typing something on the keyboard with fast, precise hands and didn’t even lift his gaze when he spoke in a deep, neutral voice:

“Introduce yourself briefly. Tell me your work experience, and whether you’ve worked with children. Speak now or you can leave, I don’t like wasting time.”

Damn. Welcome to corporate hell, you thought. With an aristocratic vampire as your judge. But you didn’t look at him right away. Your eyes were immediately drawn to her. A little girl with long brown hair tied into two messy braids and large forest-green eyes speckled with reddish flecks, catching the light like gemstones a clear sign of mixed blood. She stared at you, serious and curious, with an unopened candy in her fingers.

You crouched slightly and smiled, offering her your hand, which looked so big next to hers.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

Jenù looked down at your hand, touched it with fingers slightly cold but strangely warm like a heart that hasn’t decided whether to beat or not and then, solemnly, said: 'Nice to meet you. I’m Jenù.'

She showed you her little teeth, a mix of human and vampire, and you giggled. “The candies you’re eating… those are my favorites too,” you whispered like it was a secret between partners in crime. “But when I was in elementary school, I ate so many I had to get four cavities filled because of all the sugar.”

Her eyes widened, then she laughed a clear, bright sound that cracked the tension in the room. 'Daddy only gives them to me when I do something good. Like… saving the world.' You leaned forward, resting your hands on your knees like you always did with kids. 'Oh? And what good thing did you do today to earn them?' Jenù wrinkled her nose and said proudly, 'I helped Uncle Hoon hide some documents before that annoying yelling lady found them.'

You barely held in a laugh, but a smile escaped your lips. 'Oh yeah, that counts as saving the world—at least a little.' Then she looked at you with a solemn expression and repeated, 'Work experience. Have you worked with children? Speak now, we don’t have much time.' You froze for a second, then burst into a light laugh.

“Wow. You’ll make a perfect heir to your dad’s company. You’ve learned well.” And only then did you lift your gaze toward him. Jay was watching you. Still, unmoving, mouth slightly open as if he hadn’t expected someone to walk into that room and ignore him completely. As if seeing his daughter laugh like that so naturally—was something he missed… or feared. But you didn’t look away. You didn’t bow, and you didn’t care about the social gap between you. You looked at him like a man who didn’t scare you yet, and that threw him off.

Jay clenched his jaw, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower.“You’re not like the others.” And you, with a boldness that surprised even yourself, replied, “Good thing. Otherwise, I’d already be out that door, right?” Jay clenched his jaw again as you extended your hand toward him. It was such a simple, common gesture, but the way you did it straightforward, without hesitation, with that annoyingly human and confident gaze caught him off guard for a moment.

Still, he took it. The contact was brief, but enough to confuse you.

What was that spark? Fear? Anxiety? Warmth? Desire? You couldn’t tell.

But he was… too much. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at Sunghoon’s birthday and my best friend T/l’s, who’s also his girlfriend.” You smiled, a little too brightly for his stiffness. “I’ve worked with kids a lot even back in high school. Right now, I work at an idol-themed coffee shop… which is babysitting, but with screaming thirteen-year-olds obsessed with photocards and smoothies with idols’ faces on them that cost almost as much as dinner.”

Jay looked up from your resume and fixed his sharp gaze on you.“You talk too much.” You laughed lightly, brushing some hair from your face.

“It’s one of my superpowers. It usually works well with kids… and customers who haven’t had their coffee yet.” From the desk, Jenù stood up on tiptoe, came closer, and studied you from head to toe. Then she grabbed your hand in her small fingers. 'Daddy, look!' she said, pointing at your decorated nail. 'She has a tiny teddy bear on her finger! I want one too!' Jay raised an eyebrow, and his gaze dropped to your hands.

“Not very professional, but… I suppose it’s better than the red witch claws the last babysitter had.” Jenù laughed out loud, and you leaned closer to her. “When you’re older, you’ll be able to have them too. But for now… maybe we can draw them on with markers. What do you think?”

'Really?!' she beamed, eyes sparkling.

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Jay interrupted, his voice low and controlled, but irritated at seeing his daughter so enchanted by a woman who wasn’t his mother—or grandmother. You turned to him calmly and replied with a steady tone, “You don’t crush a child’s imagination, Mr. Park. You adapt it. And besides…” You turned back to Jenù with a warm smile. “It’s a small promise. And small promises are meant to be kept.”

Jay gave a low, almost inaudible growl—like an animal being disturbed. But Jenù ended the conversation with a decisive tone: 'I want her. Daddy, I like her as my babysitter.' She turned quickly to you and grabbed your hand again. 'Do you know how to do braids?' “I can do braids, ponytails, crown twists, even bows made of hair. Want me to show you?”

Jenù nodded eagerly. 'Daddy took two months to learn! He watched a bunch of TikToks and YouTube videos and kept messing up!' She covered her mouth with her little hands, and you did the same, laughing softly. “Two months? Really?” you asked curiously, glancing at the man in the suit sitting across from you. 'Swear!” she laughed. “The first time I looked like a cactus!'

Jay gave her a look, but it wasn’t stern. It was intriguing. Slightly amused by what was unfolding. And silently, he watched the scene with a strange gleam in his eyes. His daughter was at ease. Smiling. Bonding with someone in mere minutes—something that never happened. You gently tapped her nose.

“But hey, don’t tease your daddy too much. He did something really sweet for you. Not every dad would learn how to braid hair for their little girl.” Jenù lowered her gaze and nodded as if those words had landed right in her chest. Then she ran behind the desk, and Jay picked her up with almost shocking tenderness, lifting her in one fluid motion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered something in his ear.

He turned back to you. “You start this weekend,” he said, voice flat, but eyes sharp and fixed on you. “Don’t make me regret letting you near my daughter.”

You smiled. “I won’t, Mr. Park,” you said. “I get attached to children easily but only to them. Adults… are more complicated.” Jay raised an eyebrow. “Welcome to hell, then.”

Jay Park’s apartment looked like it had been pulled straight out of a luxury design magazine. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened and you muttered under your breath, "Why wasn’t I born into some rich, aristocratic family too…"

The enormous sofa in the center of the living room looked so soft it could probably swallow anyone who dared sit on it. In front of it, a massive 55-inch TV was embedded into a wall of matte black glass. On the low shelf below, a perfectly aligned series of framed photos caught your eye and instantly melted your heart.

Jay and Jenù smiling, goofy, captured in candid moments of quiet intimacy that no one would ever expect from a centuries-old vampire with perfect hair. There were photos of them at the pool, at the beach, dressed for the mountains with Jenù riding on Jay’s shoulders. All four birthday photos were there too every year—with him, his daughter, and the ever-present trio: Jake, Heeseung, and Sunghoon, Jay’s best friends and Jenù’s honorary uncles. From the open kitchen with its central white marble island, full of fancy utensils and high-end appliances. you could see Namsan Tower rising over the misty hills, bathed in the golden glow of sunset.

“It’s… breathtaking,” you whispered to yourself, more than to them, as your eyes wandered around the house. Jenù grabbed your hand and tugged you down the hallway.

'Come see my room! It’s the best room of all the rooms!' Her room looked like a private theme park. It had everything: miniature castles, stuffed animals, tables with puzzles, “educational” human toys… and some things that had to be vampire toys (like a doll that moved its eyes on its own and had tiny fangs—and stared at you for a bit too long for your comfort).

But it was her actual bedroom that took your breath away. A gothic Disney princess kingdom: blush pink and black velvet everywhere, a canopy bed with hidden lights, glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, hand-embroidered pillows, and closets full of dreamy little dresses. You wanted to be a kid again just for one night to sleep there and play with all the toys you used to dream about having.

'And… that’s Daddy’s room,' she said, pointing to a sleek dark door. 'You can only use it if there’s an emergency,' she added, extremely serious.

Behind her, Jay appeared like an elegant shadow, leaning against the doorframe.

Rule number one: no entering my room. Ever. Unless it’s a real emergency.”

His eyes scanned you from head to toe. “And by ‘emergency,’ I don’t mean ‘I need the Wi-Fi password’ or ‘where are the chips.’”

You raised an eyebrow and muttered dramatically,

“I have no intention of entering the wolf’s den… oh, wait, the wrong creature. You’re a vampire.” You bit your lip, and Jay shook his head slowly while Jenù giggled, covering her mouth. Jay shot you a sharp, slightly intrigued look. He then led you to what would be your room on the nights you stayed over. It was simple but elegant a queen bed, a reading nook, a private bathroom, and… a breathtaking view of the Han River.

You walked over to the little table by the window and noticed a neatly printed sheet of paper. There were two columns, one titled "Human Rules", the other "Vampiric Rules", and above them, bold text read:

HOUSE RULES – FOR EVERYONE’S SURVIVAL

(Edited 7 times, updated after the Exploding Plush Incident)

Human Section

No candy after 7:00 p.m. (Unless it’s Saturday and Jenù has saved the world.)

No watching TV shows with a yellow or red warning icon.

Never leave Jenù alone in the bathroom. NEVER. You must stay with her at all times.

Do not wake up Daddy if he’s resting after a “red” meeting.

No incense or garlic in the kitchen. (Seriously.)

Vampire Section

If you hear whispers or strange noises at night, ignore them. It’s probably the neighbor. Or… maybe not.

If Jenù says there’s a shadow under the bed, it’s probably just her imagination—but check anyway. Safety comes first.

Do not open the small fridge on the left. You’ll only open it if I tell you to because it contains blood vials from the Blood Bank—the specific type Jenù drinks.

If I say “disappear,” then disappear. But stay within three meters of Jenù.

If you need to call me about a problem… count to 3. Then call. (Doesn’t apply to real emergencies: fire, blood, accidents.)

You burst out laughing.

“This is the most dramatic list of rules I’ve ever read. I’m 22, not 3—I can handle myself,” you said as you scanned the quirky guidelines. Jay shot you a death glare. “They’re not funny. Those rules could literally save your life.” “Wow, okay, Dracula 2.0, but seriously live a little. I’m not worried, and more importantly, Jenù will be fine with me.” He crossed his arms, voice dropping lower.

“Even if you’re the best friend of Sunghoon’s girlfriend, that doesn’t mean I trust you. Not yet and maybe never. I don’t know who you are, I don’t know if you’re good for my daughter, and I’m not about to find out the hard way. So follow those rules, and we’ll get along.” Your smile faltered for just a second before you lifted your chin and replied,

“Then watch me, Mr. Park. It doesn’t take much for me to prove I’m capable of what I do and I do know how to take care of a four-year-old. Maybe you’re the one keeping her too tightly bound to rules that are… a little questionable.”

For a moment, silence. Only the muffled sound of Jenù giggling in the other room. Then he turned away. “Dinner’s at seven. And don’t you ever presume to tell me what’s right or wrong for my daughter again.” 

It had been almost two weeks. Two weeks in which, to your surprise, you were still there. Still in Jay Park’s house, still “working” for him—though by now, it felt less like a job and more like a secret, comforting routine you’d grown to love. Jenù had slipped under your skin with the same ease she used to grab your hand when crossing the street or when telling you her wild dreams full of dancing bats and floating castles.

Every day, after your university classes, you pick her up from ballet or theater. Her cheeks always flushed, her bun always undone—and the moment she saw you, she’d run into your arms with the biggest smile and two tiny teeth… a little sharper than the day before. And she’d look at you like you were more than a babysitter, something she secretly wished all her friends had too. One evening, in the bathtub, while she played with bubbles, she nearly gave you a heart attack by flashing her canines proudly:

'Look, they’re coming in! Daddy says it’ll be my ‘change’ soon… Are you scared?' You’d fake-faint in fear at her little growl and she’d burst into laughter, sending water flying everywhere. Colorful bubbles filled the bathroom, and every day the bath bombs smelled like something sweet or floral. It had become your favorite part of the day—watching her relax and play with vampire-shaped toys, rubber duckies with fangs, or little fish that sprayed water. You often made a mess together in the kitchen, and she’d solemnly swear:

'I won’t tell Dad, I promise. Not even under hypnosis.' She’d pinky swear it, and every weekend you baked something: chocolate chip cookies, banana bread, muffins… One time you even decorated them with bright red sugar “fake blood.” When Jay got home and saw them, he stood in front of you, arms crossed, voice low and sharp:

“You just put fake blood on pastries for my daughter to eat. Do you have any idea how irresponsible that is...”

He didn’t get to finish. You burst out laughing right in the face of his CEO-dad-vampire attitude, and something in him softened for the first time since you’d met. He huffed… then actually smiled. A real smile with fangs on full display: long, slender, lethal… and disturbingly attractive to your messed-up mind that kept whispering you should stay away from him.

That evening, after washing dishes with Jenù—covered in flour and syrup, with a bat-shaped crêpe you named “Bat-crepe”—you both snuggled under a pink-and-black blanket on the couch.

“Have you ever watched Monster High?” you asked. She gave you a suspicious look, raising one eyebrow just like her father.

'Daddy doesn’t let me watch horror stuff.' “It’s not horror, I swear! They’re girls… monstrously fashionable. One’s Dracula’s daughter, one’s a mummy, another’s like… a super-stylish werewolf. And they all go to a school for magical creatures. My favorite’s Draculaura—I wonder who yours will be.”

Jenù was quiet for a moment. Then she said, 'If you say it’s not scary… I trust you.' You pulled up YouTube, found the first episode, and as the bright, catchy theme song started, Jenù began bouncing her shoulders.

'I like the music!' she said, waving her arms, and when Draculaura, Cleo de Nile, Frankie Stein, Lagoona Blue, and Clawdeen Wolf appeared on screen, she pointed. 'Her! The one with the fangs! She’s so pretty!'

“That’s Draculaura! That’s exactly her!” you nodded. “She’s like 1600 years old, totally vegan, and always has trouble with her wings—but she’s adorable.” Jenù slowly nestled against you. It was the first time she did it without thinking, without saying anything. She gave you her tiny, warm hand, and in a soft voice while watching the show, she whispered:

'I wish I could go to a fashion monster school too.' You gently stroked her forehead. “You already do, sweetheart. You’re a stylish little monster.” She smiled, and you swore right then and there—you never wanted to move from that moment again.

The sharp sound of the door opening broke the spell on the couch. You and Jenù turned your heads in perfect sync, like a well-rehearsed choreography. Confident footsteps echoed on the polished parquet, followed by the soft creak of shoes being taken off and set neatly by the entrance.

Jay was home.

You watched him walk into the living room: hair tousled from the wind, jacket slung over his shoulder, tie slipping through his fingers. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt and yes, you lingered there a second too long. His skin was warm-toned, golden-amber in color, so unlike Sunghoon’s pale, moonlit coolness. Sunghoon looked sculpted from Nordic marble.

But Jay… Jay was like liquid honey over dark stone. With every inch of skin revealed, your cheeks burned hotter. You couldn't stop staring as he loosened his custom-tailored suit and then, his eyes locked with yours.

He froze. Time seemed to hang off his frame. His eyes narrowed, sharp—like he was reading you like he knew exactly what was running through your head. His jaw tightened just slightly.

Shit. You felt it. Knew it, without a word. He didn’t like that look in your eyes, too curious, too bold but… he didn’t look away either. Luckily, Jenù broke the tension, bounding toward him with bubbling excitement.

“Appa! We’re watching Monster High! There’s Draculaura! She has teeth like mine!” Jay crouched slightly to catch her as she launched into his arms. He shot you a look sharp enough to cut through bone. You braced for his usual complaints.

“Monster High?” he asked, turning slowly toward you. “I told you I don’t want her watching scary stuff. She’s too young.” You raised your hands in mock surrender, flashing a diplomatic smile. “Jay, come on. The scariest thing in this show is how Ghoulia talks. Maybe Cleo’s shrieking fits. But monsters? They’re fashion bloggers.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like you putting ideas in her head. Influences form now. Today it’s Draculaura, and tomorrow she’s wearing black capes and bat-winged platforms.”

You bit your tongue to avoid pointing out those exact shoes were already part of two Korean brands’ fall/winter collections but before the argument could escalate, Jenù took control.

“Appa, why don’t we all watch it together? Just one episode. Then you’ll see if it’s okay.” Jay kissed her forehead, sighed, and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go change first. Ten minutes.” He gave you one last glance slow, calculated. A look like velvet… with blades sewn in.

A mix of unspoken disapproval… and something else. You looked away, pulse a little shaky. You squeezed Jenù’s hand, reminding yourself where you stood but when the theme song kicked back in and the little girl began to dance, for one perfect moment, you forgot everything.

Everything… except her little fanged smile and maybe, just a little, that golden vampire who would be back in ten minutes. When Jay returned to the living room, he paused in the doorway. The scene was almost surreal.

You and Jenù were curled up together, eyes glued to the screen, giggling at an absurd scene where Cleo de Nile ranted about how everyone dressed at school and how she was the only one with real taste. Jenù laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth with her hand. Then she looked at her father, eyes shining:

“Appaaaa, this cartoon is so good! I wanna go to a school like Monster High!” Jay raised an eyebrow, dropped his tie on the sideboard, and gave her a strange little smile tender and oddly conspiratorial.

“For you, my little one… I might just build you one.” He brushed her hair back, and your heart pinched for a second. The deep voice, the strict face… and then that look, that melted only for her. Jay came over and sat on the couch next to Jenù. But she turned to him with a firm look: “No! I wanna sit here!” and before he could respond, she crawled right into his lap, curled into his chest, burying her little head into the crook of his neck.

Cleo screamed again onscreen. Jenù giggled. Jay cracked a joke: “She sounds just like you when you can’t find your pink headband.”Jenù smacked his chest with her hand: “Appa! Not true!” “Alright, Miss Fashion—who’s your favorite?” you asked Jenù with a grin.“The same as yours! Draculalla!” she shouted, mispronouncing it adorably.

“Draculaura,” you corrected, giggling.

“Yes, her! She’s pink and black and makes braids better than Appa!” You scooted closer—partly because Jenù reached out her hand to pull you in. Your knees brushed Jay’s. You felt… warmth. He gave you a glance, then murmured with that deep voice:

“Careful… You’re starting to look like part of the monster family. And no one gets out of that." “Wow. Romantic threats, Jay. Very on-brand,” you muttered, eyes rolling playfully. “Watch the sass… or I’ll put you in time-out with Cleo,” he said, smirking faintly.

Jenù quickly cut in: “Appa, be nice! I like her. I love her.” Jay raised an eyebrow. “And what have I taught you about saying that, Jenù?”

She straightened her back, proud as ever: “That you only say ‘I love you’ if you  trust someone.” “And you’ve known her barely a month…” he started.

But Jenù shut him down with that fearless honesty only children have: “But I do trust her. A lot. And I like her so much.” She took your hand in hers, small and warm. You squeezed it back, your heart melting. Jay watched. Something inside him broke or maybe healed. Something he didn’t quite recognize: the warmth of your presence, the blind trust his daughter gave you, your hands always linked—ready to go anywhere and something shifted inside him. A knot. A flicker a need not just physical (though that was there too—boiling under the skin every time he looked at you)

No. This was something deeper. More dangerous than hunger. More terrifying than blood.

What if she belonged here?

He barely had time to process the thought before the three of you burst into laughter—Ghoulia was babbling nonsense in zombie-speak on the screen. The room felt alive and you were there, part of it all. Because you brought light and joy into a house that had been drowning in routine.

You had just tucked Jenù into bed and now stood outside Jay’s study, nervously biting your nails. Tomorrow, near the university campus, there was going to be a party for final-year students—and you needed to go.

It had been months since you spent a weekend with people your age instead of watching cartoons and drawing bat wings. You loved Jenù and your job, but you missed the wild, carefree side of yourself. So, tonight... you were going to tell a tiny white lie to your boss. And honestly? You hated lying—especially to him, the vampire with a dangerously attractive pair of fangs that could rip through you at any moment if you pissed him off.

You took a deep breath and knocked, heart hammering in your chest.Jay was seated at his desk, bathed in the amber glow of a desk lamp. The light carved out every line of his sculpted features. His shirt was undone halfway, revealing golden, defined muscles and a faint blue vein tracing along his neck. In one hand, he held a blood pouch, still half-full. In the other, he scrolled through corporate reports on a curved screen.

He didn’t even look up.

“Come in.” His voice was rough, slightly annoyed, but you stepped in anyway, clinging to the hope that your little lie might work. He looked infuriatingly indifferent, flawless in his world of silence, power, and spreadsheets. And yet… you couldn't help but look at him.

You caught yourself thinking—with a pout that betrayed a hopeless crush—“If he wasn’t Jenù’s dad…”

“What do you want?” he asked, eyes still locked on the screen. You took one step closer and tried your best innocent and slightly dramatic voice.

“Tomorrow… I won’t be able to take care of Jenù.” At that, Jay finally looked up.

“Why?” His tone was cold, direct almost too sharp for a man who had just been drinking blood. You hesitated, you could still bolt. You could say something stupid and backpedal but your best friend—who also happened to be Sunghoon’s girlfriend had warned you:

"Vampires detect lies. They hear your blood shift, your heartbeat, your heat. Be careful. Fake it well, and maybe he’ll say yes."

You decided to risk it. Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “I have an extra class tomorrow night. Advanced coding. I need to work on some content for my final project. Graduation’s close and I… really want to do well.” Jay stared at you and then silence fell heavy silence. You could hear your heartbeat in your temples. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“…Fine.” Your eyes widened. “Wait—seriously? Like… that’s it?” A genuine smile broke across your face. Jay leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. His shirt gaped a little more, exposing more of that honey-gold skin, and your eyes automatically drifted to it.

“Yes. You’re good with Jenù. I never said otherwise. And if this class is important, I won’t stop you. Your grades speak for themselves.” “Wow. No CIA interrogation this time?” you asked, half-laughing. Jay glanced at the blood pouch in his hand and muttered, “You might wanna go before I change my mind.”

You dipped your head slightly partly in gratitude, partly to hide the color rising in your cheeks. It was the first time you felt… like a real accomplice.

“Thank you. Really. I promise this won’t become a habit. Skipping weekends, I mean.” Jay’s eyes lingered on you a second too long. Then he ran his tongue over his bottom lip and your gaze followed.

Your stomach clenched, and you felt the urge—the craving—to press your lips to his and just taste what those sharp, beautiful lips felt like.

“Don’t,” Jay said softly. “Because it’s not just my daughter who trusts you anymore.”

For a moment, something cracked inside your chest. It was the first time Jay had acknowledged anything beyond duty. The first time you weren’t just the babysitter and you were lying to him. You bowed slightly, instinctively. But it was more than that, it was a mask to hide your guilt.

Jay frowned. “What are you doing?” “Thank you. Politely. Not used to that in your world of shadows and fangs?” You tilted your head with a half-smile and as you turned to leave the study, you could feel his eyes still burning into your back.

And just before you stepped out… You thought (just maybe) you saw him smile but maybe…It was just the light.

Music thumped from the poolside speakers, neon lights rippled across the water, and your head swayed gently, your body moving with the beat. The party was buzzing with final-year students desperate to cut loose before diving back into exams and thesis deadlines—and you were one of them.

You were dressed lightly....okay, not even gonna pretend. You wore a top that barely covered your chest, hugging your curves like a second skin, a low-rise skirt that showed off the glint of your belly piercing, and your sun-kissed skin shimmered under the lights. Cowboy boots make your legs look longer, sharper, and stronger. You smelled like summer and something exotic, your favorite perfume.

You laughed with your best friend as if life were easy. Like responsibility could wait one more night. You were 23, and this was your moment. If not now—when? and then, you felt it. A presence behind you. A hand at your waist. A tall guy with light eyes and a rehearsed smile leaned down—just enough to speak close to your ear over the music.

-Easily the most beautiful girl I’ve seen tonight... maybe the whole semester,- he said, voice smooth, practiced. You turned with a half-ironic smile. “Wow. That your go-to line, or do you save it for special occasions?”

He chuckled. You didn’t but... you didn’t step away either. Your body was warm, your mind slightly hazy, and God...it had been months since anyone made you feel wanted. Not that you were interested. Your thoughts were already somewhere else.

Tall. Golden skin. Half-unbuttoned shirts. A daughter who felt more like your little sister. Jay Park.

You cursed yourself silently, there was a cute, young, available guy wanting to have fun, like most people your age and all you could think about was him.

That grumpy, overprotective vampire of a man who only thought about work and his daughter, and never himself. You remembered those looks, the ones he thought you didn’t catch.

When you bent over to pick up a toy or laughed too loud with Jenù, the way his eyes burned through you, then quickly turned away. You wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by him. To feel him over you—those large, strong hands gripping your hips.

That rough voice telling you he wanted only you, to learn how he liked it, and what made him lose control. What it felt like to be taken by him slow and then ruthless until you forgot where the babysitter ended, and the woman began.

God, you needed to have sex...but not with this guy. You stepped back, scanning for your best friend, catching her on the far side of the party and chatting with a group of friends. You tried to move toward her, but the guy behind you was a little too persistent.

“I’m not looking for attention tonight,” you told the guy in front of you. -Are you sure?”- he replied with a sly smirk. -Your friend’s already taken. But you… you don’t have a mark. I can see it. Smell it.-

You froze. You thought he was joking until you looked closer. The fangs were real. The glint in his eyes was too red to be normal. Panic rose like acid in your throat.

A rogue vampire. You stumbled back, heart pounding, then bolted for the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and locked it. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone.

No answer from your best friend. Your cousin? Offline. The rest of your friends? Miles away and none of them were fucking vampires. You stared at the emergency contact you swore you’d never use...Jay’s number. Meant for Jenù’s emergencies, not yours. Especially not after lying to him about tonight.

You hit the dial with shaking fingers: One ring. Two. Three-

“What is it, Y/n? Done with studying already? Missing Jenù too much?” His voice was dry, sarcastic, and cold. “Jay…” Your voice cracked as a tear slipped down your cheek. “Jay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you, I...there’s a vampire. Outside the bathroom, he followed me, he knows I’m unmarked and I can’t find M/t and...” Your voice broke, the fear was raw now and our heart thundered.

Then....silence. When he finally spoke again, his tone had changed deeper, calmer, almost... human.

“Hey. Breathe. Where are you? Send me your location. I’m on my way. Are you alone?” You couldn’t tell if he was angry or terrified but you whispered, “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to lie. I’m M/t’s best friend. Sunghoon’s girlfriend. I...” “It doesn’t matter right now,” he cut you off. “Just listen to me: don’t open that door. Lock everything. Be silent. Try to text M/t. If you see anyone you know at the party, message them.” You nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. And in your chest, beneath the fear… there was something else.

Something twisted and dangerous a part of you wanted to see him. To hear his voice in person, to feel his arms around you, telling you it was okay. Maybe even...just maybe, he’d look at you and admit he couldn’t stop thinking about you. That he didn’t just want you as Jenù’s babysitter. That he wanted you underneath him, whispering his name as he finally gave in to the pull you both felt. But no, that was just your broken little fantasy. The one that lived in the dark, when your fingers weren’t enough anymore. Right now, you were just a terrified girl locked in a bathroom and outside… was a vampire who wanted your blood and maybe your body.

And Jay was coming but you didn’t know if you were trembling from fear…or from the guilt of lying to him.

The music still pounded through the walls, muffled, but the sound that froze your blood was something else. Two sharp knocks at the door and you thought the worst, until you heard his voice, the one you’d come to know all too well these past months, the one that sent shivers down your spine.

“Open the door. I'm Jay. Now.” Your heart shot to your throat. That voice was unmistakable, deep, and pissed. You knew he’d make you pay for this.

When you opened the door, your best friend was there, eyes down, shoulders hunched like a kid being scolded. Jay must’ve already gotten to her. Behind her, Jay himself. Tall, in an all-black suit, sleeves rolled up, hair tousled by the wind and stress, and he looked pissed, radiating fury. But the second his eyes landed on you, they softened just enough to make you crumble.

“I’m sorry,” your best friend whispered so low it barely existed. Jay scanned you from head to toe, and you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in a trembling hug. “Thank you… really. Thank you for coming.” He stiffened for a second, then sighed, slowly resting his big hands on your back, pulling you closer, he didn’t want to be soft with you, he didn’t but it was too late.

“It’s over. You’re safe,” he said, low and close, holding you. After dropping off your best friend and making her swear not to tell Sunghoon, Jay warned her with eerie calm:

“Sunghoon will know the second he’s back. He’ll smell the alcohol, the other humans or vampires. Go shower before he gets home, and I’ll lie for you. I’ll say you went for drinks in Seoul with Y/n if he pushes. But from now on...you owe me.”

She nodded, biting her lip. Before leaving, she kissed your cheek and whispered, “Text me when you get home.”

When the car started moving again, Jay was silent...too silent and his eyes were fixed on the road, hands clenched on the wheel. You nervously bit your nail.

“I’m sorry…” you said, turning toward him, and wrapping your arms around your bare legs. “Shut up,” he said, eyes still forward, jaw tight. “I didn’t mean to… I mean were you sleeping?” you asked, your voice cracking, thinking this was it. He’d fire you. Erase you from his and Jenù’s life. All your fault. “I was trying to get my daughter to sleep. You know, the little girl you told you had to study for your thesis and rest. And I get it—that watching a kid every weekend is exhausting and you deserve to live your life. But you could’ve told me. I would've let you go. Instead, while she was showing me your drawings and asking where you were, you were in front of a mirror putting on makeup to go dance with some hormone-driven idiot or worse, into a fucking party with rogue vampires.”

You bit your lip, crossed your bare legs, and caught him glancing at your thigh a second too long. His jaw clenched. Finally, he turned toward you.

“So… how was your ‘computer science class’? The music sounded very… academic.” “Well, yeah… the DJ had a PhD in bass drops,” you muttered, trying to break the tension. He clenched his jaw again, then slowed the car and looked at you. His eyes had darkened—nearly black, flecked with red. His fangs were slightly visible.

One part of you panicked. The other… got turned on. “I left my daughter alone at night to come pick up a little girl who, one, lied to her employer. Two, lied to an innocent child. And three thought it was a great idea to go to a party full of drunk idiots and rogue vampires dressed like… a slut.”

His words hit you like hot blades. But the alcohol gave you courage—or recklessness. “You’re not my father, Jay. I have every right to live my life like any girl in her last year of university. I work too much, I earn too little, and sometimes I just want to forget that my life is a mess—with a vampire dad boss who looks at me like I’m a ticking time bomb and is always grumpy and full of himself!”

Jay laughed. A short, bitter, deep laugh that made your skin crawl. “No. I’m not your father who’s always grumpy with you, but I am the father of a little girl who sees you as home. And if you get lost, if you fall apart… she’s the one who pays the price. Got it? She loves you. And I’ve never seen her grow attached to anyone ‘outside’ our circle like she did with you—not Jake, not Sunghoon, not even Heeseung.”

Silence fell again in the car and you bit at your nail. Your cheeks were burning—and so was your chest. You looked at him, hands tight on the wheel, and without thinking, the words slipped out like sweet venom.

“Maybe that’s exactly what you want, Jay. What you keep trying to ignore something new. Something that makes you feel alive again. You want me to crash, to fall—so you can stop feeling guilty about wanting to love again.”He froze at your words. His knuckles turned white on the wheel and his gaze turned dark, hungry. He spoke through clenched teeth, low and hoarse like a strangled growl.

“You drive me insane. So shut up until we get home. ”You closed your eyes and curled into the seat, turning to face away from him.

Jay pulled into the underground garage with a sharp brake. He broke the silence with a heavy sigh, then turned to you and found you asleep. Curled up like it was something you did often. Your bare legs tucked to one side, head tilted, breath slow and uneven, smudged makeup, lips slightly parted. You looked innocent… and infuriatingly tempting even in your sleep.

“Why the fuck are you always a problem… even when you’re not awake?” he muttered through clenched teeth. He ran his hands through his hair like he could rip you out of his mind. He couldn’t leave you like that, not in that microscopic skirt that wasn’t a skirt, not with that scent on your skin that still made his blood burn. He opened your door with a snap, stared at you one more time thinking how beautiful and dangerous you were to his mental state, and then lifted your bridal style like you were his.

Your body molded to his naturally, your face nestled into his neck, fingers grazing his shirt. You curled into him and that cold heart of his sluggish and half-dead for years, started beating louder. He cursed under his breath. You were the only one who made him feel like a teenager again.

He rode up the elevator with you, the hum of the motor the only sound in the metal cage. He looked down at you nestled against his chest like you were made to fit there and for the first time, he thought: he should let you go but he wasn’t capable of it.

“Tomorrow I’ll tear you apart… I swear I’ll break you with words and then piece you back together just to do it again,” he murmured under his breath. He walked into the apartment without a sound, straight into his bedroom not yours and even he didn’t know why. Maybe he just wanted to wake up and see you there. Maybe he just wanted to remember you were real. And maybe… tomorrow morning you’d  see the vampire side of him. He laid you down on the bed like you’d always belonged there. Your legs slightly parted, skirt ridden up so far he caught a glimpse of lace. One breath more, and he’d see the thing that had haunted his nights for weeks.

He hated you. You were supposed to be just Jenù’s babysitter not a walking temptation calling his name every damn day. He cursed softly, his voice rough and low. He wanted to see you like that every day—naked, moaning his name, tied to his bed, tears of pleasure in your eyes.

“So that’s how you like to be...half-naked in public like no one can see you. Like you don’t know you’re already mine…” he whispered, voice gravelly. He turned around, grabbed one of his oversized vintage band shirts, and dressed you with slow, precise movements, almost reverent. His fingers brushed your too-warm skin, too alive for someone like him. He lifted you gently and slid off your top and that ridiculous excuse of a skirt. He tried not to look because deep down he was still a gentleman but his jaw was tight.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Not enough. Not when you were nearly naked in his bed. He pulled the shirt over your head and laid you back. It drowned you and yet, it suited you more than that skimpy outfit he’d hated the second he saw it.

He stepped into Jenù’s room. She was asleep, cuddling the teddy bear you’d gifted her, her breathing calm. He knelt beside her, fixed a strand of hair and kissed her forehead softly. Guilt hit him hard. Because you weren’t just a crush, a temptation. You were dangerous for him, for Jenù, and for the life he’d spent years carefully building. He returned to his room. You were still there. In his bed. In his shirt. In his life. Legs half-covered, neck exposed—that damned neck he wanted to bury his face in, kiss, bite, mark. He wanted to sink his fangs into your skin and feel you scream from pleasure, from need. Taste you. You’d haunted his every thought since the day he first saw you, at Sunghoon’s birthday party.

“You’re ruining me…” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, exhausted. Then he climbed in beside you, turning his back so he wouldn’t touch you because if he did, he wouldn’t stop. Just as he was about to turn off the light, you whispered his name softly, like a plea from a dream. “Jay…” He closed his eyes tightly, turned, gently brushed a strand of hair from your face with trembling fingers, then turned off the light and stayed there, facing you, watching you sleep. Desiring you. Hating himself. Knowing deep down that tomorrow, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

Your head throbbed, not painfully, but with that thick, fuzzy sensation that made you curse the loud music and the neon drinks from the night before. Your eyes were still closed, skin flushed, but there was something against you—solid, muscular, slightly cool… but too alive. Holding you tight.

Oh no. Jay.

As pieces of the night fell back into place like dirty puzzle pieces stained with adrenaline and shame, you remembered it all: - how he looked at you when he found you - how he growled your name carrying you away and most of all, how you yelled he wasn’t your father, with shaking knees and burning cheeks while his eyes looked starved.

You felt nauseous not from the alcohol, but from the humiliation. He would fire you. He’d scream. He’d hate you. You slid your arm off his torso and buried your face in your hands, pouting. “Run, Y/n, before he wakes up. Just go. Get out before he opens his eyes and destroys you.” Quietly, you began to slip from the sheets. One arm held you tightly, his bare bicep wrapped around your waist like silk and fire. His face… was relaxed.eyes closed, lashes long, lips slightly parted in an unconscious pout. “If he weren’t a CEO with blood-stained hands and centuries of pain, he could be a model,” you thought, biting your lip at how unfairly beautiful he looked even asleep. Carefully, you freed yourself. His arm fell away, and you exhaled like a secret agent dodging a trap, you placed one foot on the ground no sound a second of peace.

Maybe…you made it but then.... “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, raspy from the night, laced with dangerous promises. You shut your eyes and whispered, “Shit.”

Hand to your forehead, you turned to face him. Jay was awake, dark eyes locked on you like blades. His hair was messy, yet he looked as perfect as ever. He lifted slightly from the mattress. “I… I was just…” You didn’t finish. His cold, firm hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back down onto the mattress. He hovered over you, one knee on the bed, eyes burning into you from above. Your gaze dropped, cheeks blazing from the heat of his not-quite-human warmth. “Sorry,” you whispered. He laughed quietly—low, poisonous.

“You're sorry?” he hissed. “Sweetheart, you can shove that where the sun doesn’t shine. Maybe it’ll help you think clearer next time.” His hands clutched your wrists tighter. You laughed nervously, trying to deflect, “Didn’t think you’d be into dirty talk at eight in the morning. Figured your priorities were more… milk temp for your kid or which headband matches the bows today.” “I don’t like girls who lie. Especially not to me, or my daughter.” His hand gripped your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His touch was gentle, but the grip was firm, anchoring. “You didn’t just put yourself at risk. You broke the trust of a little girl who says your name every night, who looks for you in her dreams, who prefers you over everyone except me. If something happened to you, she would’ve broken. And I would’ve broken with her.” You swallowed hard, cheeks burning. But he wasn’t done. “I’m not your father but under this roof, I decide what you do. You’re my responsibility. Mine. Got it?” You rolled your eyes. “And what if I don’t want to be yours?” you challenged. “Then get out of this bed. But if you stay… accept that you’re in my world now. And sweetheart, I don’t play fair. Especially not with troublemakers like you.”

You didn’t want to leave. You pulled him closer. “God… you sound like you crawled out of a teen vampire drama,” you teased. “Half Dracula, half psycho. Maybe a little pathetic too.” He raised a brow, leaned in, eyes sharp slits. “Careful. Poorly written vampires don’t end well.” “Oh no,” you mocked, “will you make me vanish or glare at me with that immortal CEO pout? Maybe scold me for corrupting your daughter with my scandalous human morals?” Your smirk faded when he bared sharp canines. Real. Dangerous. Irresistible. You reached out, voice low. “Can I?” He didn’t move. You touched the tip of a fang. Sharp as a blade. He growled low, animalistic. “Going for a vampire of the year?” you whispered. “Got the deluxe kit or just the base model with sexy teeth and moody angst?” That did it. His eyes flared. “Little girl…” he growled. He grabbed your face and crushed his lips to yours. It wasn’t tender. It was hunger, anger, and raw need. You’d teased him from day one, and he had tried to resist, but now he couldn’t. At first, you froze. Then you melted into him. His kiss was fire and desperation. You kissed back with trembling hands tangling in his messy black hair. Your tongues danced and challenged. “Christ…” he muttered as you tugged his hair. “You’re a torment.” “I know…” you whispered.

You dared explore his mouth, brushing your tongue along a fang. He growled and gripped your waist hard. His cold hand slid against your hot skin, thumb drawing circles, making you moan. Each kiss hit like a blow, and breaths came shorter. It was a storm. “I can’t stand you…” he murmured against your lips. His hands held you like you were slipping away like he’d already lost too much. You pressed into him, feeling exactly how much you affected him. “Too bad. You’re kinda cute when you’re not being a grumpy CEO dad.” His gaze darkened. “Don’t push me.” He kissed your jaw, voice shaking you. He kissed down your neck, canines brushing skin that smelled like mango and coconut. He wanted to bite, to sink those fangs in, but instead, he kissed, licked, sucked, marking you with heat and possession. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he whispered. “Yes. And I’m not stopping,” you rasped. He chuckled darkly. “You’re trouble, Y/n.” Your fingers found his hair, pulling. He smiled against your skin, hearing how much you wanted him. “Remember…” he murmured, breath ghosting over you, “…when you called me crying, said a vampire tried to bite you because 'you hadn’t been claimed'?” Your heart stopped, then raced. You opened your mouth, stammering, but his kisses silenced you. “Don’t you think,” he said, lips at your ear, “…if anyone had to do it… it should’ve been me?” Your body shook. You moaned, feeling his dominance, his heat, his hunger.

You lifted a leg, pressing it to his side. He growled. “You thought you could just put on that tiny skirt, down some drinks, and I’d stay home while you paraded around like temptation incarnate?” “I just… I wanted to…” “You wanted attention,” he snapped. “But mine comes with a price.” His eyes were red now. Aroused. Hungry. “I’ve wanted your blood since the first time you walked into my office.” Eyes wide, you clung to him. “Please… don’t hurt me.” His smile turned wolfish. He grabbed your chin. “If you want to be treated like a princess, you’ve got the wrong immortal. I’m not here to save you, sweetheart. I’m the one you should run from.” Then his fangs sank into your skin. Pain exploded, sharp and hot. You screamed, but his hand clamped over your mouth. His bite was more than hunger. It was possession. Desire. A fire ran through you. Your breath came in pants, trembling, moaning under his mouth. You should’ve been afraid. But it wasn’t fear. It was want. Shameful, burning want. He drank deeply, slowly, rhythmically. Your name was a whisper on your tongue. Your body collapsed against his. “J… Jay…” you whimpered. He kept drinking, precise, controlled. Then, finally, he pulled away. His lips were crimson, tongue licking your wound clean. “You are…” he breathed, “…the most dangerous thing to ever happen to me. And now that I’ve tasted you…” He cupped your face gently, reverently. “…I’m never letting you go. Not even if you beg.”

It had been a week since he kissed you since he made you feel alive and maybe even important to him. A week since his fangs had pierced your skin, since his breath had turned molten and his voice had scratched your soul. And since then… silence. Jay had gone back to being the man you met months ago cold, arrogant, irritable, and infuriatingly professional. Every morning you received a message, always the same, as if you’d just started working together and hadn’t been living under the same roof for months: “Take her to the park between 6 and 7 PM. Don’t forget the snack and avoid the hottest hours. The full moon is coming and she’s sensitive to the sun. Don’t wait up. I’ll be late. I have work to do.” And every time you read “I have work to do,” you couldn’t help but think it was just an excuse to avoid being near you.

He always shut himself in his office. At dinner, he sat at the head of the table and spoke only to his daughter, as if you were invisible and one night, when he saw you still awake at the kitchen table with your Communication and Multimedia notes spread everywhere, he didn’t say much. Just a sharp glance, a mug filled with blood he barely touched, and a biting comment: “Didn’t know coloring PowerPoint titles were considered academic now.” You’d let it slide until that night. That night, you stood up, barefoot, wearing just a pair of shorts and an old oversized sweatshirt. Not to provoke him, but because you were tired of pretending nothing happened, tired of being invisible.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Your voice came out raw, almost breaking. “Do I have the plague or something?” He tensed, eyes fixed on his mug. “I’m not avoiding anyone. I have a life to manage, a company to run, a daughter to protect. I don’t have time for adolescent drama.” You stopped a meter away from him, watching his clenched fist. “Strange. A week ago, you didn’t seem so uninterested. You kissed me, bit me, crawled under my skin and now you act like I’m nothing.” He turned sharply. “You’re a girl. You’re not ready for what’s inside me. I made a mistake giving in to a stupid impulse. The kiss, the bite both mistakes I regret.”

His words shattered something inside you. “I’m not a girl. I raise your daughter every day. I gave up parties, skipped classes, lied to people because I thought it was worth it. That you were worth it.” He laughed, short, bitter. “Right. Like that night at the party. So responsible, right? Alcohol lies, and an outfit that was more sin than fabric.” Your chest tightened. “That night I messed up. But you… you made me feel alive. You looked at me like no one ever had.” He stepped closer, face tense, the air around you shrinking. “You make me something I shouldn’t be,” he spat. “Her mother left her. I won’t let her lose me too.” Silence fell like a slap and you stared at his clenched fists, his tight jaw. Then you whispered, “You’re just a coward.” You brushed past him, tears burning not just from anger, but heartbreak. You slammed the bedroom door behind you. And Jay? He didn’t follow but the mug he held… shattered in his hand.

That afternoon, golden light poured through the living room windows. The TV was off, the silence broken only by the occasional pencil falling to the floor and the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. You were deep into a complex yet fascinating visual semiotics assignment, surrounded by sticky notes, half a cold coffee, and colored pens. Your shoulders ached for a break.

Jenù sat on the rug with a little illustrated workbook from preschool, coloring sea creatures with an almost sacred focus. Every few minutes, she’d toss out questions some adorable, others just to get your attention. “Do fish know they can’t talk?” “If you lived underwater, would you be a long-haired mermaid or the kind with shells?” “Is pink allowed in the ocean? I’m using it anyway!”

You chuckled without looking up, refusing to let yourself soften because Jay didn’t want you to because he was distant, and because he had made you feel like a mistake. Jenù stood abruptly, hands on hips, and gave you her best vampire pout, flashing her baby canines.

“Are you scared now? I could suck your blood!” You smirked. “Not scared, little Dracula. I know you too well and you can’t bite with baby teeth.” She crossed her arms, ready to giggle, when the ding-dong of the front door echoed through the room. Jenù’s eyes lit up and she bolted instinctively.

“Daddy! You’re early!” she shouted but it wasn’t his voice that followed. It was female. Deep. Velvet-smooth. You turned around to see Jay, coat still on, and beside him… a woman. Tall. Beautiful. Pale skin, dark hair in a messy bun, endless legs in black pants, and a razor-sharp smile. You caught sight of her fangs. She looked like exactly the kind of woman Jay wanted in his world.

Jenù quickly let go of him and ran back to you, holding your hand as if anchoring herself. “This is Y/n! The best babysitter I’ve ever had! But not just a babysitter—she’s one of my best friends. She makes perfect braids, watches Monster High with me, and cooks way better than the mean witch-nail lady we had before!” Then she looked at her dad. “Don’t send her away. She’s better than all the others.”

Your heart skipped. Not just because of Jenù’s sweetness, but because of the cold, sharp tension that suddenly filled the room.“She’s my daughter’s babysitter,” Jay said curtly, without even looking at you. The woman laughed, lips blood-red, baring her perfect fangs.

-Oh, the babysitter? What is this, the thirtieth one? Cute...” She looked you over. Cute, for a human.- You bit your cheek to keep from snapping. The humiliation, the jealousy, the rage, you swallowed it all. Jay said nothing. He placed a hand on her back… and left it there too long. Jenù looked back and forth between the two of you, a bit confused.

“We’ll be in my office,” Jay said flatly. The woman turned to you before following, offering her hand. You shook it—and she gripped too hard. Her nails grazed your skin like claws.

-Careful not to get too attached, dear,-she whispered with a wicked smile. -Vampires… change their minds quickly.- She let go and disappeared into the study with Jay. You stood there frozen, Jenù’s little hand still clutching yours, your heart pounding. Only when the office door clicked shut did you realize what you were feeling? Jealousy. And for the first time… you wanted to drive him mad the way he was driving you.

It had been over two hours since dinner, simple tomato pasta with grilled veggies, which Jenù had arranged on the plate like tiny flowers. She giggled as she chewed, proudly explaining how well she had colored the jellyfish in her underwater workbook. Now you were in the bathroom, steam fogging the mirror. You knelt by the tub with a towel over your knees while Jenù washed her hands and brushed her "LITTLE TEETH"—her nickname for her baby vampire teeth. You smiled at her pink pajama, the one with teddy bears—too sweet for a half-vampire, but adorable.

“Mmm… I don’t like that lady,” she mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste. “The one with shiny lips and claw hands.” You glanced at her through the mirror.

“Oh no?” “No. She laughs too much and looks at me funny. Why are they taking so long to work?” You bit the inside of your cheek. From Jay’s study, you could hear nothing but the clacking of keyboard keys and... laughter. “Your dad... has a lot of work. Sometimes meetings run late.” She didn’t look convinced but theatrically spit into the sink. “Is that why we spend so much time together? You nodded. “Exactly. But I don’t mind. You and me? We’re a team.”

When you left the bathroom—Jenù in her jammies, hair damp—you saw her, standing in the living room like she owned it. Leaning casually against a shelf, laughing at something Jay said, her hand lightly brushing his arm, her smile just a bit too sharp to be real. The moment she saw Jenù, she crouched and chirped in a sing-song voice:

-Sweetheart, you look beautiful! Those little fangs—such a perfect baby vampire! Though this pajama…- she laughed softly, -...a bit too human, don’t you think? You have special blood, you know?-

Jenù gripped your hand tighter and answered firmly: “It’s my favorite. Y/n gave it to me. She also got me a teddy bear at the fair and I like sleeping with him.” Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Jenù then pulled Jay’s arm.

“Daddy. Tonight, I want you to tell me a story.” The vampire woman’s smile faltered. She shot you a sharp glance—part threat, part promise: I know what you feel. And you’re going to lose. You didn’t flinch. You greeted her coldly, and she vanished into the night with a trail of sweet, cursed perfume. Jay and Jenù disappeared into her room, and instead of leaving, you followed. You sat on the edge of the bed as he began the story.

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a castle as big as the sky. But she had a secret: her heart beat for two worlds—the world of humans, and the world of shadows.” Jenù snuggled against him, holding her bear.

“And was her daddy a king?” “No,” Jay said, brushing her hair. “Her daddy was a guardian. Someone who fought monsters in the dark… to keep her safe.” “Even if the monsters were inside him? Or close to him?” He paused. Then whispered, “Especially then.”

She yawned, her eyes finally closing. You gently covered her with a blanket, touched Jay’s arm, then left the room. But with each step away, a growing emptiness pressed into your chest. You have made your decision. Shoes on, bag in hand you were just about to walk out when Jay appeared in the hallway, sleeves unbuttoned, standing right in your way.

“Where are you going?” he said, watching you as you bent down to put on your shoes. You turned, determined not to cry, because you wanted to leave that house.

“To my place,” you said quietly. “At this hour?” Jay asked, slightly irritated, as he watched you stand.“I don’t mind babysitting Jenù,” you said flatly. “I’m happy to be there for her until I graduate... and even after. For her birthday, for the important moments. Forever, if she wants me to be.”

His eyes darkened, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak. “But I can’t live here. I don’t want to live in a house where vampires walk in wearing stiletto heels, red lips, and acid laughter. Where you… have fun while I help Jenù with her homework.” Jay stiffened, looking at you with a hint of anxiety at your words. “It’s not what you think.”

“No?” You lifted your chin. “Then what is it? Because I know you like me, and I know you’re holding back, but I don’t want to be one of many. I don’t want to be the babysitter who watches your daughter while you find someone in your league, someone perfect for you and for Jenù, because I…” Your voice cracked, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “I could fall in love with you… and you would break me.” Jay fell silent, then took a step toward you. “I can’t afford that. I can’t be weak with you. I can’t want that.”

You looked at him and sighed because you knew he’d never fight for this. “Then let me go,” you said as you grabbed your bag. But for once, he ignored every instinct. He didn’t listen to the vampire inside him the cold, calculating one who stopped loving the day his heart was broken, the one who wouldn’t let you in, the one who was afraid terrified of losing you and making you suffer.

He grabbed your wrist with that usually controlled strength and turned you to face him. His eyes, pitch black with faint red glimmers, flared like glowing embers. He lowered his head until his lips were just brushing yours and whispered, hoarse, hungry, sincere: “Fuck it… I can’t take it anymore. I want you in my life more than anyone else.” And he kissed you but it wasn’t like that time in his bed, after the party when you were drunk on adrenaline, music, and boldness.

No, this kiss was different. It tasted of long-repressed desire, of raw need finally unleashed, of his craving to have you, to show you how much he needed you. He bit your lower lip gently, and you moaned his name between parted lips.

“J-Jay…” He laughed softly against your mouth, that deep, maddeningly sexy laugh you’d only heard when he was with his daughter.

His hands grabbed your ass firmly, and without a word, he lifted you like it was nothing effortlessly, with the confidence of someone who’s fought a thousand battles and had supernatural strength. You clung to him like a koala, legs wrapped around his waist, fingers buried in his raven-black hair—soft and just long enough to grab.

You rubbed against him, feeling his erection pressing hard against you, and that’s when he growled low in his throat and degraded you with a whisper in your ear: “Not tonight, baby. I’m not just going to fuck you against a wall—I want to make you tremble. I want to make you feel so good you forget your name. I want you unable to walk tomorrow without thinking of me. I want to hear you moan my name and how crazy I make you.”

He kissed you, wet and hot, just beneath your ear, then moved slowly down your neck, licking the spot where the mark from his fangs still lingered. Your voice broke, and you stammered something you’d never said out loud: “I-I can’t resist you anymore, Jay…”

He paused and looked you in the eye, voice low: “I know. I can’t resist you either. Since day one, you’ve been driving me insane. Ever since I had you in my bed, every morning I wake up hard as hell, and I have to jerk off in the shower thinking about you on your knees all mine. But I want you to know something: I’m not just some asshole. Not with you. I want to take care of you, for once… I want to live without fear.”

He kicked open the door to his room and closed it behind him. It was dark, deep, dominated by a large black canopy bed with dark silk sheets but amid all that darkness… you were the light. He laid you down gently like you were precious, and his gaze traced every inch of your body. He brushed his fingers slowly over your hips and whispered:

“So beautiful… so bold… and you still don’t know you were born to be mine.” He unzipped your hoodie with one swift pull, stripping it off and leaving your breasts bare, your breath shallow, still in your sweatpants. He bit his lip and said, “Christ, you’re perfect.”

But you didn’t just lay there. With trembling fingers, you unbuttoned his shirt. His skin was golden, sculpted, tight muscles flexing under your touch everything you’d dreamed of feeling since that kiss. You dragged your nails down his abs, tracing every ridge, and he shuddered under your touch, eyes half-lidded. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Wanna play, little human? Tonight I’ll show you what it’s like to be under me… to be loved by me. And you’ll beg me never to stop.” His kisses trailed slowly down your neck, hot and wet, each bite leaving small marks—branding you with his possessiveness. He sucked your skin until it turned red, whispering against your flesh:

“Tomorrow, I want to see you covered in my marks. So everyone—those boys at university—know you’re mine.” You shivered at the sound of those words because you knew how protective he was with Jenù but with you… there were darker shades. Hungry. Possessive. His red-black eyes lingered on your chest, and the way he looked at you made you feel completely naked—even though you weren’t. One of his hands grabbed your breast, squeezing it firmly, making your back arch.

“S-sensitive…” you murmured, your voice breaking from pleasure. “Perfect,” he growled softly. “I love it when you’re sensitive.” Then, without warning, he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, his tongue tracing wet circles around it, his fangs lightly grazing the taut skin. You buried your fingers in his hair, holding back a desperate moan. “Look at how you react to me…” he whispered against your skin, slowly, cruelly licking your other breast. “I bet these breasts would be perfect, full of my milk, swollen with my seed and my future children,” he growled, a thin strand of spit soothing his little bites. You stared at him, eyes wide. A shiver ran down your spine at the way he spoke… as if he was already living the future he imagined with you. It scared you but excited you more than you wanted to admit. “J-Jay… don’t say that…” you moaned as you felt his hand tighten around your breast. “Why not?” he hissed against your belly, moving lower. “Sooner or later it will happen. You’ll be full of me—inside, outside, everywhere.” He kissed your lower belly while touching the piercing on your navel that drove him crazy, then looked into your eyes. “Lift your hips.”

You obeyed, and your sweatpants and panties slipped off in one smooth, quick motion, leaving you completely exposed before him, your thighs trembling, your breath caught. He looked at you and cursed under his breath, dark and rough: “Fuck… you’re perfect.” Instinctively, from shame and modesty—you hadn’t been naked in front of anyone for a long time and you were afraid you wouldn’t live up to his expectations—you tried to close your legs, but he slid between them, grabbing you firmly. “Don’t you dare hide from me,” he growled. “Not when you have such a beautiful pussy. Shiny, swollen… wet for me. Do you see how much you want me?” He started kissing you there, between your legs, with that disarming slowness that hurt. His lips followed a cruel rhythm: soft circles, small figure eights, his tongue grazing your clitoris with surgical precision. Your body tensed, and your hands searched for something to hold onto. All you found was his hair. “J-Jay…” you moaned, voice breaking. He chuckled low, predatory, as if he knew exactly how hard you were fighting not to beg him. “What did you say?” he whispered against you before giving another slow lick along your lips. “I didn’t hear you well.” Then one of his fangs brushed your clitoris, and a shiver ran down your spine. “Fuck…” you gasped, pulling his hair.

“You’ve got a long tongue for such a sweet girl,” he growled. “And now look how slick your fucking human pussy is… Christ, I could kill for this taste, I could stay down here for hours watching you lose for me.” A finger slipped inside you slowly, wrapped in warmth and your wetness, and he cursed, forehead resting on your belly. “So tight… so ready and only for me, right?” You nodded and whispered, “I need you… please.” “Please…?” he repeated. “You’re desperate, huh? I want to hear you beg. Say my name.” he chuckled. “Jay…” you sobbed. “Please, fuck me. Do it with your fingers, with that damn mouth. Make me feel something that breaks me.” Jay was obsessed with you, and without warning, he pushed in a second finger; you felt yourself being stretched, your thighs opening wider, clutching the sheets as if they could save you from him. “Baby,” he murmured, voice broken by hunger. “You’re so full and warm… Christ, I’d get drunk just on you.” He kept moving inside you, his fingers curling against that spot that made you see stars, while his mouth devoured you mercilessly again. “You’re mine. Mine, got it? No one else gets to see you like this. No one will touch you like I do.” His fingers moved inside you like they were born for that gesture while he pumped inside you, and at the same time his tongue made perfect circles around your sensitive clitoris, then suddenly deeper, fiercer. As if his body knew exactly when to push you over the edge and when to cradle you in torment. “I-I’m coming, Jay…” you stammered, voice broken, and he smiled with that dark, indecent grin. “Good. Come. Show me how beautiful you are when you break for me.”

He didn’t give you time, and his lips returned to your pussy as if it were his favorite meal. There was no hunger for blood in his eyes anymore, only desire, only thirst for you… without warning, he pinched your clitoris with his fang and you screamed. He covered your mouth with his hand and growled into your ear, “Want to wake Jenù?” he growled softly. “Want her to hear her babysitter getting fucked with her employer’s fingers?” Tears streamed down your face—from pleasure, from shame, and pure excitement. “I’m sorry…” you whispered against his hand, unable to control your trembling, and with your other hand, you tangled it in his dark hair, pulling him even deeper between your legs. Jay groaned but didn’t stop; his fingers hammered inside you, curved, calculated, and his tongue sucked with the precision of an expert demon. Then, shivering, you came against his mouth and his fingers, and he didn’t stop. He took everything from you, drinking your essence as if it were sacred, and when he pulled away, his lips glistened. The same fingers that had destroyed you, he brought to his mouth and slowly sucked them, moaning. “Your taste… fucking perfect. Human but with something of mine inside you now. Can you feel it? You’re mine. You always were.” And he kissed you. A kiss full of your own flavor, and you, still trembling, still lost, gave it back to him. “Stay with me,” Jay murmured against your lips. “I don’t want to wake up one day without your scent on these sheets.” You couldn’t even answer. Your body collapsed against his, exhausted, warm, alive, and you fell asleep tight against his chest. But Jay… Jay didn’t sleep. He watched you in the dark while your breathing slowed, and every now and then his hand moved, caressing your side, then traveling up your belly, kissing your shoulder, your neck, the hollow behind your knee—and you… even in sleep, moaned softly. He was obsessed, thinking only about how easy it was to push you to the limit, how your body responded only to him, and he wanted to wake you again with his mouth between your thighs, wanted to hear your voice break again, wanted to bite you, make you his in the most absolute way. She’s mine. Even when she sleeps, even when she doesn’t know it, and for the first time in centuries… Jay Park felt alive.

It had been a few weeks since that night when he made you realize he cared about you and wanted you with him, and with all his might, he was pushing away the idea that he could love someone other than just his daughter. Things had changed—or maybe they had simply transformed.

He was no longer gruff, cold, or distant with you; on the contrary, he was spending much more time with you and Jenù. Every opportunity seemed good to involve you, even in moments you honestly never imagined could involve a 300-year-old aristocratic vampire.

Like… going to the movies. Yes, you heard that right the movies, not the private theater in his house but the one shared between humans and vampires in downtown Seoul. You, Jay, and Jenù sitting almost in the back row watching the new Disney movie Lilo & Stitch!

Jenù was clutching her favorite stuffed animal, you were holding her hand, and Jay… Jay was on the left, with a huge popcorn bucket on his lap. Halfway through the movie, when an emotional scene made Jenù’s eyes and yours glow, Jay leaned toward you.

“So humans cry even for an animated doll?” he whispered with a cocky smile, and you threw a popcorn straight at his face. Jenù laughed like crazy, and that’s when the battle started: flying popcorn, stifled giggles, sneaky hands trying to grab the popcorn bucket before the other a silent but beautiful disaster. Jay was laughing, and at that moment, you thought: maybe this is love, or maybe it’s a wonderful trap, because little by little, you were falling in love with that 27-year-old man who, in his vampire form, was 300 years old…

That afternoon at university, Sunghoon called to say he would pick up Jenù from kindergarten and take her to dance. You replied with a simple “ok,” already mentally preparing to take the crowded subway, but then you immediately saw a message from Jay saying: “I’ll come get you.”

You sighed because surely he and Sunghoon had made plans, and you thought: God, no.

Being seen outside the university in a shiny black Aston Martin at four in the afternoon? It was mortifying. Plus, you were wearing your dad’s hoodie, and battle-worn faded jeans, and you weren’t wearing any makeup or looking presentable for someone like him… yet, there he was. Parked in front of the entrance, headlights on, the door already open as per his gentleman status, and you got in.

That unmistakable scent aged whiskey, leather, something ancient and warm that smelled like him wafted into your nostrils, and you felt better seeing him dressed not for work either. He wore slightly dressy pants but a Ralph Lauren sweater that hugged his muscular chest, and his hair was so messy you smiled because he must have run his hands through it countless times.

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, glancing at you sideways.“Just a headache, a bit tired the graduation is coming, and I can’t wait to finish to figure out which master’s to do.” Jay didn’t answer right away. He stretched his arm toward the back seat and handed you a warm carton. Hot chocolate. When you opened it, you saw it was covered with marshmallows, and you looked at him.

“How do you know that’s my favorite?” He raised an eyebrow, sly, and smiled. “I watch you carefully.” “Stalker,” you whispered as you started to drink, and he smiled. Then you shivered an unexpected chill ran down your spine. “Can you turn up the temperature?” you asked, your hands warming thanks to the hot chocolate’s heat. “It’s already 23 degrees.” Without a word, he moved closer and pressed his cold forehead against yours. “Fuck… you’re burning up.”You put your hand to your forehead—he was right, you were burning.“You have a fever.” His tone was authoritative and cold, but protective. Almost… tender. “You need to rest.” “Yes, Dad,” you teased, and he looked at you, his red eyes slightly narrowed, letting you drink in peace. But beneath that calm… he was already reckoning with how much he was getting attached to you a small human, too stubborn, too fragile, and too… his.

Jay never thought he’d have to take care of two girls in his life—and yet, in the middle of the night, he found himself standing next to the bed, watching over two humans. Well… one human and one small half-blood. One too stubborn for her good, with a fever and a stuffy nose. Jenù was asleep, her legs sprawled over his chest, breathing in little puffs.

You, on the other hand, were a whole different problem. For three days, your fever had hovered between 38.5 and 38.5, your nose red enough to melt any heart… and your hair so messy it looked more like a declaration of war than a symptom. Jay was immovable: rest, broth, medicine, more rest.

But you? You wanted the whole world, even with a fever and dark circles under your eyes. That night, you got up quietly, thinking he was in his study—but no. Jay was there, leaning against the kitchen door with his arms crossed. Crimson eyes, a sharp gaze, but he said nothing for a long second.

He looked at you: his sweatshirt nearly reached your knees, your pajama pants hung a bit off one hip, and your face pale, tired… and beautiful. That red nose, flushed cheeks, those wild strands of hair something in him snapped. A sharp, sweet pang.

Damn, she’s cute like this. Especially like this. Vulnerable, real, fully his, in his home. He walked toward you slowly, his voice stern: “Back to bed.”

“No.” Your voice came out hoarse, weak and then, suddenly, you hugged him. mA simple gesture. Natural.

But for Jay, it was like lightning. You weren’t a physical person. You never hugged him like that without a reason. Maybe because you didn’t trust him yet—not completely. But he wanted to become the person you could trust.

And him? He held you tight, protective in a way that surprised even him. A kind of touch he usually reserved only for his daughter. Don’t let me get used to this, little human… because I might never want to let it go.

“Sweetheart, you need rest…” he whispered into your ear, voice low and warm, unusually gentle. “I know,” you murmured, your forehead against his chest. “But I’m hungry… for something good. And no, I don’t want any more plain noodles or chicken soup.” You looked up at him with those eyes the same eyes Jenù used when she wanted to stay up late or ask for something and he recognized the look instantly.

He shook his head. “No.” You hugged him tighter, inhaling that scent of his that always made you feel at home, and you said: “Please… ramen. Slightly spicy, the one with the soft-boiled egg inside…”“You’ve got a fever,” he replied in his usual stern tone, and you pouted, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

“Then I’ll call Heeseung,” you whispered with a faint smile. “The ramen king.” You tried to pull away to grab your phone, but Jay growled softly. His red eyes flared. That bastard’s not making you a damn thing. Not in my house.

Without another word, he took your hand warm, trembling, so human and dragged you into the kitchen. He sat you down on the counter and began preparing the ramen. You watched him move in silence, enchanted by the way he focused just to feed you. The way he opened the spice packets, cracked the eggs, and added the broth with precise gestures. As he stirred the pot, Jay thought about how much of a child you seemed to him. Fragile, human, noisy—and there he was, making ramen at three in the morning just because you gave him that sick puppy look.

I’ve gone insane.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked without turning around. He could feel your gaze on him.

“Like what?” you asked, a little sleepy. “Like I’m a miracle.” You smiled faintly.

“Maybe you are.” Jay froze for a second, the ladle hanging in the air. His (dead) heart skipped something dangerously close to a beat.

It’s just the fever talking, just a random moment. But then you turned away, coughing softly, and he placed one hand on your back, the other on your forehead.

“You still have a fever.” “I know,” you murmured with a shiver. “Eat. Then bed,” he said in that commanding tone of his. You whispered, “Only if you come too.” There was a pause—silence heavy enough to make your chest tighten in fear he might laugh at you. But Jay nodded slowly. He didn’t say a word but inside…

He was already surrendering. To your voice, to your fragility, to that sweetness he never asked for but that was slowly invading his life.

And maybe… just maybe…He was falling in love with you.

The next day, Jenù only had a mild cold. Jay checked her temperature and, with a satisfied look, confirmed the fever was gone. He sent her off to spend time with Sunghoon and your best friend "just to be safe," he said… though you suspected he just wanted a few hours alone with you.

He took your temperature right after. “37.5°. It’s going down.” “Oh, Doctor Jay, what wonderful news! Tell me, did you study medicine or is this all part of your panicked dad instincts?” Jay shot you a sharp look, but the corners of his lips curved into a half-smile.

“In my vampire ID, I’m 300 years old, sweetheart. I’ve seen plenty of sick people.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back against the couch.“There he is again — the ancient immortal. You know, I keep forgetting I’m dating someone who could’ve voted during the age of absolute monarchies.” “Dating?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. You two weren’t just “dating” like some teenagers fumbling through a first crush.

“Okay, fine living together, making out, exploring each other, co-parenting your daughter pick your term,” you said with a smirk as you stretched. “Anyway, I need a shower. I look like a gremlin and I hate tangled hair.” Jay stiffened immediately. “I don’t want you alone in the bathroom.” You looked at him, shrugging. “You can stay by the door. I don’t plan on drowning in shower gel.” He stepped closer, his face serious. “What if you faint? Or worse hit your head?”

You gave him a wry look. “If this is your way of asking to join me, just say so.” Jay’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “She’s back...the girl from our first months together. The one who teased me every five minutes.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around him.

“She never left. You just got used to my brilliant personality.” He sighed and raised his hands. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll prepare the main bathroom for you.”

When he finally called you in, the scene looked like something out of a movie: The large black marble tub steamed with hot water, dotted with violet sea salt pearls. The air smelled of vanilla and lavender, and candles flickered around the edges.

You stood at the doorway, lips slightly parted. As a kid, you had always dreamed of a bathtub like that, but your family home never had one — and your student apartment didn’t even come close.“You… did all this for me?” you whispered. “No. It was for me. But since you’re always complaining, I’ll let you use it,” he replied sarcastically, turning to leave. “Relax. Just don’t get up too fast.”

But you reached out and caught his wrist. “Stay,” you said softly, a little shyly. Jay turned slowly to face you, his gaze drifting down over your body, hidden beneath one of his oversized hoodies.

“I’m not pretty right now, I know,” you murmured, face warm. “All sweaty, still a little feverish…” You began pulling down your pajama pants slowly, left in nothing but your underwear. Then you peeled off the hoodie no bra underneath and Jay let out a quiet, almost frustrated breath as his eyes scanned your body. He reached out and cupped one of your breasts gently, brushing your nipple with his thumb. You gasped softly, tilting your head back at the contrast between your warm skin and his cool hands.

“You’re a little overdressed,” you whispered. He didn’t say anything, just took off his shirt revealing his golden skin and sharp V-line then slid off his sweatpants, staying in just his boxers. You were biting your lower lip without realizing it, and he noticed.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and you nodded before giggling shyly. “Can you turn around while I get in? Even vampires should know how to respect privacy.” Jay scoffed. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen your pussy from every angle.” “Jay!” you scolded, slapping his chest. He laughed and turned his back.

You slipped into the tub the water was just the right kind of hot. The steam kissed your skin and made you close your eyes for a second, letting yourself melt into it. Jay turned back around, watching you as you relaxed in the water. Then, slowly, he took off his boxers. You shut your eyes instantly.

“I said you turn around, not me!” “You’ve been naked for a minute,” he replied, climbing in. “Might as well.”

He settled behind you, pulling you gently between his legs, your back resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, and he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder. The hot water enveloped you both like a velvet cocoon but Jay’s hands, cold like winter moonlight, made you shiver every time they touched your skin.

You could feel his arousal pressing against you — constant, undeniable — and a quiet moan escaped your lips. Jay smiled slightly, misinterpreting it. “Am I bothering you, sweetheart?” he whispered, continuing to lather your back with slow, careful movements… almost reverent.

"No… just a little shiver, " you lie, leaning your head against his chest as he had asked you. Its smell invaded you: wood, and smoke, mixed with the sweet note of vanilla and lavender. His hands began to descend slowly, lingering on the curves of your hips, then rising again, caressing your neck gently before lingering on the breast and you arched your body as you wanted it closer. "Perfect…" he whispered against your skin, his lips barely touching your lobe. "Too perfect for such a damn human creature." You moved, without realizing it, rubbing against him, and his body reacted with a slight quiver and a subdued laugh. "Careful, little human …" he muttered in a low tone, scratched with desire. "Do not tease what you are not ready to tame." His hand went down again, stroking your belly with slow, torturing movements, before lingering between your thighs. His kisses began to rain on you like caresses: on the neck, behind the shoulder, in the still-damp hair. «Jay…" you whispered, just turning around to look for his gaze. "You're on painkillers, love. You don't know what you're saying," he replied in a hoarse voice, but his hands hadn't stopped, and you turned a little more, running your fingers through his hair, and in the movement, you felt his cock rub against your bottom. He was hard, and hot despite his skin, and it was clear how much he was struggling with himself. You looked at him with bright eyes. "I need you." He kissed you and it was not a tender kiss, it was a hungry bite, a fire devouring the air between you and slightly pinched your lower lip, savoring a drop of your blood as if it were his condemnation. "You don't know what trouble you're getting yourself into…" he hissed at your mouth. "Then let me sink with you." Your voice trembled, but it was not fear: it was desire. He stared at you, then shook his head with that tired, sharp smile. "You are a stubborn child and too human for your good…" And yet, his fingers were already moving between your legs, tracing slow and skillful circles, his fingers were tracing slow circles against your already hot, swollen cunt, so sensitive that you almost could not hold back the moans.

"Jay… please… I want to hear you inside…" He sighed, and his breath caressed your neck like a broken promise. "you're too cheeky to be a babysitter» You bit your lip, but the answer came out to you anyway: "I know what I want and I want you.» His laughter was low, biting. "Really? And what exactly do you want, honey?" You stammered, but the words melted into a sigh as you felt the entrance of your now swollen folds teasing you: "I want to feel good. I can't take it anymore… to be repressed every time I see you. I've wanted you for months…and you, you with your daughter are sweet, perfect… and you're a bad bastard with me. Looks like you live with a pole up your ass." His laugh this time was true but also as sharp as a barely sharp canine. "You know I could bite you just for what you just said?" He pinched your hips, then with cruel slowness slid a finger into you and your body reacted as if it had always expected it: you groaned, your head back resting on his shoulder, and you groaned. "Continuous… please…" "Fucking human," he hissed at your skin, as his teeth grazed the curve of your shoulder. "So greedy for my finger? What are you gonna do when I fucking dig you in? When will I plant my teeth in your neck and make you mine for real?" You barely moved, tilting your hips, rubbing over his still-captive boner between the two of you and he growled softly.

"Stay still…" order. "If you still move I'll take you like that. Without lubricants, without sweetness and I swear you will scream my name until everyone in the palace hears you." "Jay…" you whined, moving against his fingers. He looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and burning desire. "You behave worse than a child in heat. I should punish you." But he didn't, instead, he slid a second finger into you, bending it with mastery as his thrusts became deeper, more insistent and your body writhed against his, looking for more friction, more pressure, more of everything. "You… yes so… You're great…", you praised him between moans, without shame, as you felt how his cock under you became harder and harder, swollen, impatient. You felt it, you wanted it, and he was losing his temper, too.

"Be careful…" he growled softly," I'm going to rip your soul out if you keep moving like this." You wrapped your arms around His neck, your head resting on his shoulder, and you babbled against his skin: "I'm… I'm coming…" He smiled, damn pleased. "You're only coming with two fingers inside and I haven't even touched your clit… You're so sensitive, so damn mine." You nodded, unable to speak, until your body stretched all together and the orgasm ran through you like an electric shock, making you scream at his chest as you felt your cunt twitch, hot, wet, sticky, even hungrier than him against his fingers. "Good girl…" he muttered, slowly removing his fingers from inside you, looking at them, shiny and wet, but this time he did not bring them to his mouth. Instead, he picked up some of your same mood and slid it down, between your buttocks and the touch made your back arch. It was the first time anyone touched you in that area and he knew it. "If you want it, honey…", he said in a rougher voice,"…I need to make sure it doesn't hurt. You are small, narrow, and too human." He continued to pass his finger carefully through the folds, pressing only gently, preparing you, his tone became lower, more intimate. "I don't want to break you. I want you to feel it, everything, but slow, only if you're ready." You nodded slowly, your heart in your throat and your body on fire, trembling as if you were about to collapse because you wanted to feel it inside you for months now.

"I … I've never done it like this…" you stuttered with a sweaty forehead, fingers clasped against his broad shoulders as if only he could still hold you in balance and he looked at you with his eyes too dark to belong in this world. He kissed you in the hair and put you even closer to him to feel how much he wanted you. "Then I'll do it." murmur. "And it will be nice but if you tell me to stop, I will always stop, remember that." His hard, taut cock slid between your buttocks with sadistic patience and you felt it throb against you, like a living creature, as if choosing you and every slow rub was a bite of pleasure and torture. He had been lubricating you for minutes, with expert, careful fingers, and now the tip was already pressing where no one had ever been. Then he lowered his head and he kissed your neck alternating light hickeys and light bites with his fangs and you heard him growling softly against your skin, as if hungry for everything you were. "I can't take it anymore…" you gasped, your voice broken, damp. "I want you too much…" He giggled against your ear, a low, poisonous laugh of desire. "I knew that under that too-long tongue was hiding a little human slut who wanted to be filled all over." He grabbed you by the hips with force, clutching the flesh as if he wanted to leave a mark on us.

"Relax … sit on top of me. So, let me lead you into hell."Your knees trembled as you lifted, feeling your body straining in the void. "Raise that beautiful little ass for me. That's right." You whined as his hands held you still between your hips. "Are you ready, baby?" he said while teasing the skin of your body. "Yes … yes, I am…" you muttered, and so you felt his toe push slowly, come in, spread It burned but it was a fire you wanted, you had been looking for for months and you both groaned. "Fuck…" you gasped. "It's so big… so big… it hurts but…" you said as you felt it making space inside you deeper and deeper and the only friction that gave you relief was the now slightly lukewarm water. "And you are…" he growled in a broken voice, his breath trembling. "So tight, so hot, Christ, your body is made to be fucked by me. Feel how well you take me…" Tears rose to your eyes from pleasure, and when you were halfway through his entrance, you moaned almost in a sob: "It's too much … too much…" He laughed, with a sound that smelled of sin but also of the desire to break you. "Too much? And you didn't even make it to the better half…" With your hands sunk to the edge of the tub, you lifted yourself a little more, your body tense, heaving, while the cock remained inside you, ravenous and insatiable.

Then you began to descend again, slowly, deeper, and his groan was violent, brutal, like an animal held too long. "Good … So … But me…" His voice cracked, broken, as the grip on your hips became tighter, more urgent. "I can't take it anymore. I want to sink everything in, I want to be tight in you to the last drop." "Jay …" you whined and he giggled seeing you against the mirror trying to get used to his size creeping more and more inside you. He lifted you slightly, holding you by the hips with his hands wide and secure, then let you fall back on his cock in a single, deep lunge and you screamed. Not because of pain, but because of the intensity because it was everywhere, it took all of you, it filled every corner of your body. "Fuck… you're so hot. So fucking tight…» You just turned around, your hair touching his bare chest, and you stammered disjointed words, lost in pleasure: "I hear you… too much inside… not… I can't… you drive me crazy, Jay…" He growled and kissed your bare back. "You're fine, you're perfect when you tremble and look how good you are at taking everything from me…"

His hands pushed you up, then down again and he made you ride him slowly, then forcefully, holding your hips as you drove the pace in the bathroom you could hear only the flow of hot water and the sound of your skin slapping against his, your moans, his roaring breaths… everything blended into a perfect symphony. His cock penetrated you deep, each lunge sent liquid shocks between your legs and when you began to lose balance, his hands went to support you from below, pressing with their thumbs on the curves of your ass. "I want to see you completely lost. I want you to remember this feeling every time you look at me." You felt it throbbing inside you, already at the limit and then it changed angle, pushing the pelvis slightly higher and god hit you right there. "It's too much…." you cried and screamed at how well he was taking you. "No," he growled. "You take it. Because you're my good girl, remember?" He was fucking you from underneath now, pushing in with force and precision, while you rode his body as if you were falling apart and finding your perfect shape in his hands. «Jay… I'm coming…" You groaned, your voice broken, confused between crying and ecstasy. "Come, then," he whispered against your back. "Show me how you break for me."

Your orgasm swept over you like a wave, as he clutched you, your thighs trembled as you took him still inside you, sitting on his cock, your back arched and your hair stuck to sweaty skin. His hands held you steady, wide, icy, sunk into your hips as he drew small circles around your hips. "Look how you take me…" he whispered in a hoarse voice, his forehead resting on your back. "You're so tight, so fucking hot… Christ, you're taking me so well" Every time you let go of him, you felt him rise deep, hard, thick, pulsating. "It's too much … you're too in… I can't…" But your body told another story because you wanted to feel it all inside you. "Yes, you succeed because you are mine. Made to be fucked by me so forever." His hands moved under your breast, grabbing it, squeezing it with gentle brutality as he lifted you, then made you fall back on him, stronger, deeper. The noise of your skins coming together was obscene and whispered dirty praises in your ear. "Look how good you are … my insatiable little human … so hungry for me." You cried, laughed, and groaned, all together. "god … please…don't come inside…" He paused for only a second and the silence was heavier than desire.

"Are you taking the pill?" You did no with your head, breathing hard but his eyes shone. "Then let me fill you up." He grabbed your hair, pulling it slowly to make you turn towards him. "I want you fertilized, I want to see you swollen with my seed and I want to brand you inside, not just outside."

A thrill passed through you because you had never felt so good in your life. "Tell me you want it." "Yes … yes, I want you to fill me… I want your seed inside me." The growl he made was almost animalistic. "Good girl." and then his cock impaled you again, sinking with strength and pure desire. He took you by the throat, with the right squeeze, without really tightening, just to dominate you, and pushed himself deeper, dirtier, as his hips lifted and lowered you as if you were an extension of him. He was fucking you like a god and you were his goddess, his chest was against your back. His mouth was on your neck and bit you slightly not to hurt you or mark you and then came. You felt Him explode inside you, hot, flooding and you felt his release slip dent of you and his hands trembled around your waist as he panted your name. His seed dripped slowly between your thighs, still sitting on him, and you just turned, your cheek against his chest, your heart exploding in your chest.

"Jay" He kissed you on the forehead and in a low voice you said, "I love you." You said it slowly as if you were afraid of his reaction but he squeezed you harder and slid you slightly from him and then straddled you and hugged you and said, "I love you too and I can't pretend otherwise anymore."

You giggled and when you looked up he looked up. "Damn…" he whispered, he took you in his arms again, his face in your hair. "I seriously fell in love with a little girl who acts as a babysitter to my daughter and by the way a human who teases me from the first day she entered through that door!"

💌 vampire taglist: @azzy02 @iluvblackk @skzdelf @hollxe1 @averiesimss @heewenos @bllcksa @yollohblbl @niniissus @hoonprksung @wiccangirl29 @kkamismom12. @bbvalentina @bllcksa @yollohblbl @st4rg1rlies @rosepetals09 @tunafishyfishylike @kkamismom12 @11thenightwemet11 @kryllea @hollxe1 @seungsoftly @yollohblbl @donttellmymomlol20 @soobundle1009 @bvbblyjasmine @jjongmi @lassiie @laurradoesloveu @engeneheree @iweirdthingsblog @kryllea @k1ttyjwon @luvksnn @starlightz02 @fancypeacepersona

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[btsreadss]

nsfw.

❝ bless or curse? ❞ — richceo!jay x afab!reader

cw: arranged/forced marriage, angst, sloppy kissing, you’ve known each other since childhood but were never close, made up last name for reader, both mains are rich, dry humping, jay’s arrogant and sometimes very insensitive, jealousy, oral (m.) in public space, cunnilingus, dumbification, breeding kink, reader quickly forgets about very recent ex, dirty talk, pet names, nudes, apparition of stray kids’ hyunjin, imessages, instagram & twitter fakeposts (twitter’s reader face is just to portrait someone).

wc: 16, 990.

rich people’s down to do anything in order to not lose their fortune.

the world of the rich is a very strange one to be born in, at first you feel like everything is amazing until something just tears it all up. you live in such privileges you don’t even think about anything else in life, but not everything in life is perfect.

your family owns an important company that moved around the continent but wasn’t doing exactly right. your father had to close two fabrics in china and shut down the investigation building in japan. even though you still had many buildings around, you had to face what was going on: you were going into bankruptcy. “we can’t do anything about it, sales have been going down for about a year now. if we keep going like this we’ll have to sell our home,” your mother sighed and refuted, but your father knew well: there was nothing you could do.

for months now, you have started dealing with financial problems. your father had to bring mingyu, your brother, back from his overseas education in switzerland so he could study in a cheaper high school in the city, and also had to cut your wings on studying art in a european country. life was going down for your brother and you, but you never refuted anything and supported your father.

that night you had a big event from mr. park, ceo of park imperial. he was celebrating the company’s 70th anniversary and invited his colleagues. you and your younger brother were waiting for both of your parents while talking about the fate of your family's empire, it was sad for both of you not even because of the money but because of how your relatives perceived your father. eminent enterprises had been a family business operating since the fifties and your grandfather gave the lead to his eldest son by inheritance, but no one trusted him due to his young age when he was given it. he had a twenty year peak but now, everything was falling down and they started gossiping and making up rumours saying he had spent all his money on bets and luxuries. yes, mr. lee had given your bother and you a life filled with eccentricity and you always had everything, but he always stopped you from becoming useless, spoiled children that with a snap got everything. “let’s go. it’s getting late,” suddenly your father arrived. he looked emaciated due to all of his worries and thinking, all of that made you sad. your mother also had a sad grin on her face.

the ride was depressing, no one was excited even though you knew the park’s held the biggest parties. you were going to it with long faces and even embarrassment, nowadays it was known all over the continent of your financial situation and everyone was commenting about it, and you confirmed it as you arrived at the party. whispers and pity looks from the employees greeted you, but as you got to where you were assigned seats, your father’s mates could only act as if they were oblivious of what was going on. “ah, my guy,” smiled mr. park with a sincere tone. he greeted the rest of you and told you and your brother to go with the younger generation and so you did, slightly bowing at him with a shy smile. “i hate coming here, everyone’s so bitchy,” mingyu said and you agreed, telling him you two could vanish at any given moment to go eat something afterwards, he nodded with a smile.

as you got to the back patio of the building, some of your known people received you with a smile. “how are you?” yunjin said while hugging you. “we were just saying we didn’t knew if you’d come,” she took your hand and walked to a table were some other friends were sitting. everyone invited you for a drink excitedly. “minho was just asking for mingyu, i’m so glad you two are here so we can catch up,” sooha said while eyeing at your bother and hers. even though you were a little embarrassed you kept on with the conversation that, fortunately, didn’t felt forced at all. no one was trying to make it weird for you even though they knew what was going on. “jay’s being a bitch to every girl again,” said yunjin in an annoyed tone as her glare pointed to where mr. park’s only son was.

jay park was a tall, dark-haired guy. he’s two years older than you and studied abroad in the u.s and then studied at university in england. now he was back and was the right hand of his father. he was very handsome indeed, spectacularly bright and mesmerizing to whoever he talked to or worked with. he was the visual of park imperial. “i heard his father’s putting him in charge of some of the companies he owns. if the rumors are true, he’s gonna be a billionaire by twenty-five,” sooha said with bright eyes, but then came back to the we hate park jongseong club. “he’s an asshole. all of his friends are, they all walk with superior airs on them. they’re annoying,” yunjin stated and then turned her attention to the table’s chat but gave a last opinion. “he looks hot with platinum hair tho,” sooha laughed at yunjin’s comment. your eyes were still on jongseong, who was calmly talking to his best friend group: sim jaeyun, park sunghoon and lee heeseung. they were all nepobabies. suddenly your stare was noticed by sunghoon, who told the rest of them and everyone looked at you, your cheeks burned in embarrassment but could only pay attention to mr. park’s son glares. it had no expression in his eyes, he was just looking at you while holding a glass of ice-cold whisky, when he took the cup to his lips he cut the stare and went back to his friends, and so did you. “excuse me,” you said and your friends nodded. you made your way to the ladies room and calmed down, the whole thing was making you uncomfortable and you knew why. before leaving the table, one of your friends was asked about how her fashion design career was going and she was happy to talk about how amazing it was, you got nostalgic about it and decided to leave.

after calming down you stepped out to go back, while walking you spotted your parents talking to mr. park. your father was shaking his head in disapproval and the eldest man held his shoulder and told him something that made his head go completely down and your mother nodded, then shook the ceo’s hand with both of hers and smiled, it was a thankful smile. mr. park shook his head while also smiling, then your father nodded softly as he hugged him. you frowned your eyebrows at the strange gesture but decided to pay no attention to it so you kept on with your walk. “we were planning on going to the club after this, you in?” yunjin asked but you refused, telling her you had stuff to do the morning after but only lied, your parents had limited your money and warned you about wasting it and you didn’t planned on spending 10k on liquor like you knew you would if you went out with them like the old times. “then let’s go for dinner one of these days, just the three of us,” sooha asked, you nodded with a smile.

when the clock hit two in the morning, mingyu stole you from the table saying you were leaving. everyone greeted goodbye and you two walked away, social battery completely drained. “how was it?” you asked, mingyu said it was fine, no one made him feel uncomfortable either.

in the car, your parents face had changed. they didn’t had any sadness on it but what they did had was a worried grin.

as you stepped out of the vehicle your mother took your hand, “honey, we need to talk” you nodded confused and followed them to your father’s office. mingyu eyed at you like asking what’s going on? but you shrugged your shoulders at him and he just left. you sat down in one of the sofas, your parents in front of you looked at each other and your mother turned her head to the side, your father exhaled a deep breath and palmed his knees. “listen, love. you know how bad the situation is, sales decreased only forty per cent this month and we had to shut down two factories in japan,” you felt your heart turn and waited for him to keep talking. “today at the party james came up to me and encouraged me not to lose hope but i mean, how can’t i in a position like this? well, he proposed something to me,” your mother stood up and walked inside the room tearing up, you felt incredibly confused and started to actually worry seeing her like that. you stared at your dad in amusement and found him biting his thumb with embarrassment. “what? is he buying the company?” you spoke out loud, body almost shaking and heart racing like crazy. what was so fucking hard for him to say and why the hell was your mother acting as if you were dying or something?

your dad looked at you for literal minutes in which you said random stuff about what you thought mr. park had said, but he only shook his head and then sighed. “no, he’s not buying the company or anything. he offered me a millionaire deal betting for the fate of the business. you know i have made deals with him before, but this one… the amount, honey, we could stabilize as we were before and hell, we would be in a position we’d never been before. our lives would change drastically and we could live so well, your own children wouldn’t even have to work,” he shut up again and you stood up from your seat, insufferably anxious. “WHAT IS IT THEN? WHY DO YOU HAVE ME HERE? FOR FUCK’S SAKE JUST TELL ME!” you screamed, anxiety-tears rolling down your face like a fountain. “sit down and don’t raise your voice at me, brat. james will make the investment with us only if you marry his son, jongseong” he finally let the bomb out.

your body fell to the couch heavily, your breath shaky and eyes lost. “what?” you almost whispered. “his son is involved in a dating rumour with an idol teen and even after taking down the articles people have started to talk about it and it doesn’t look right for his business and in order for him to put him in charge of some companies he has to get married to ease the wave,” you shook your head in denial and stood up for yourself. “he does not have to get married to be ceo. what is this fucking business? isn’t this blackmailing? him manipulating you because we’re basically going poor? are you seriously selling me to save your own ass? are you fucking stupid or something? i’m not marrying a random dude because you don’t want to lose your money, father. no, i will not marry that bastard. i’m only twenty-one and i’m already in a relationship. so fuck you,” you couldn’t believe it, you felt betrayed and used but then the only thing you felt was a stinging pain in your cheek after he slapped you. “don’t ever fucking offend me, i am your father and want it or not you will do as i say. i do not give a single fuck if you’re in a damned relationship with who? a broke painter who will get you nowhere. this marriage is only for the public,” he stated. tears nonstop coming out, you glared at him with almost hate. “i’m meeting up with james tomorrow to set everything up. if you still want to study art in italy, marry park jongseong. if not, you can go fuck yourself,” those were his last words as he stepped out of the room, slamming the door with everything he had.

you cried with your face buried between your hands, your mother, who was not innocent since she accepted the deal first came up to you in consolation. “you’re just gonna let him do that, mother? you don’t see for my own happiness?” you whispered, she caressed your hair and held your hands. “we do, baby. we do. but just think about it all, this could save us from everything, and don’t tell me you don’t even find jay a bit attractive?” you laughed at her comment and stood up. “that’s what you’re worrying about? me finding jongseong hot? god, what people say about us is true: rich people is down to do everything not to lose their fortune”.

you left your mother in the studio as you walked upstairs and laid on your bed, wishing for everything to be over until you fell into a deep sleep.

in the morning, when you woke up wishing what had happened the night before was a nightmare, someone just threw the cold reality to you. “the wedding’s already been planned, you’ll get married in two weeks. i don’t wanna hear a single whine about this, you’re doing it,” your father said, his words hitting you like a bucket of ice cold water, as he closed the door you threw a pillow at it.

“YOU ALREADY ANNOUNCED IT?” you screamed, your father responded with a cold yes outside your room.

you got up and got ready quickly, got out of your room and tried to run away to hyunjin but your father stopped you. “i’m still very young, father. i’m only twenty-one, how do you want me to get married? i haven’t done anything in life other than studying. please… i’m begging you, do not do this to me,” you fell down to your knees in front of him but he made you get up immediately. “you will go to that man right now and break up whatever you two have going on, then you’ll come back and get ready for dinner with the park’s and believe me, my daughter, if you don’t break up with him, i’ll do it myself,” you bowled your life out in his face, but he only walked away from you and locked himself in his office.

defeated, you did as he said: you went to hyunjin.

“what the fuck do you mean they arranged your marriage?” he shouted, face red and eyes huge. tears couldn’t stop coming out and you pleaded for his attention. “love, it’s not me who did this. i don’t even know him, please… please listen to me. we can still see each other, this fucked up thing is only for the cameras. i won’t really date him, i won’t sleep with him nor kiss him. i love you, i don’t need anybody else. i promise you, i’ll work this out,” but he could only shake his head in denial. “you’re so young, how are you getting married? it’s already hard enough for us to hide from the cameras because you ‘don’t feel ready to go public yet’ and you think we can work this out now that every single photographer is going to be after you? ” you hugged him and apologized but he parted you away. “no, no, no, no we can work it out, i swear,” he wrapped his arms around you and cried silently. “let’s give us a month, if the situations grows wrong… i’ll leave you to him,” hyunjin whispered and your crying became louder, begging him not to do that but he refuted. “and even if we do manage to work it out, we’ll never have freedom. we’ll never be a public couple, we’ll never be happy,”. his words sounded like a broken record in your head while taking a ride back home. could you really keep your own relationship while sleeping under the same roof as another man?

at home, you had to prepare for dinner with jay’s parents, and it all felt so bizarre. “behave,” your mother warned. she walked to your father and they both stepped out of the house to greet your guests. “this is fucked up” mingyu told you as you two started walking to the door too.

the park’s came in with a smile minus the son, he wasn’t smiling. he had his hands in his pockets and face as inexpressible as a doll. “here son, come in” your father took his hand and he slightly bowed, thanking him. “there she is! the newest bride-to-be!” you felt like crying since mr. park’s comment was almost like he was mocking you. after shaking both his and his wife’s hands, everyone made their way into the dining room. you sat next to your brother, jay in front of you next to his parents and your parents at both ends of the table. you caught jay eyeing you from time to time. “my wife’s been talking about how excited she is to pick up the wedding dress, she loves this stuff,” james park said and everyone laughed, but jay looked at them in disapproval and lowered his head. “honey, why don’t you take a walk with jeongsong. you must know each other,” your mother said, you cussed under your breath and got up, excusing yourself from the table. jay kept seated, you stared at him blankly and eventually, he got up and followed you.

“i want to talk to you about something” jay spoke at last when you two got in front of the greenhouse you had home. annoyed, you looked at him waiting for his talk. “you’re dating one of the best-known painters in this country. i know it all about your relationship with him,” he pulled out his phone and showed you images of you and hyunjin on dates, in his car, arriving at his place; everything. “i wanted to know everything about you before getting into this whole thing. my father has been wanting to do this since your family’s situation got as bad as it is now and i wanted to prepare myself,” your eyes opened widely and looked at him with fear. “i’m not breaking up with him if that’s what you’re gonna tell me,” he laughed and you stared at his grin. jay finished off with a smile and shook his head. “i know you’ve paid dispatch and all those nosy news pages not to follow you or him when on dates, i know the amount you two cooperated to pay. i know you love him and i also know that you’d give the world for him so, i’m nicely saying this right now and this is the only time i’ll say it like that: break up with him for the sake of your father’s business. tomorrow we’ll make our first apparition as a couple and believe me, he won’t feel okay with it. do you really wanna hurt that man’s ego that badly? he could get literally anyone he wants, he’s indeed very handsome and popular so, what makes you think he’ll stay with you after finding out you’re marrying another man?” his words made your tears come out just as bad as they did when your father told you the big news. you couldn’t believe what jay was saying and asking, even knowing he was right you couldn’t just give up on him like he was nothing. your head turned on him and your crying became rougher, your chest going up and down and your heart pounding like crazy. “we’re only for the cameras, jongseong. i don’t have to kiss you nor sleep with you, i am not breaking up the greatest love i’ve ever experienced… for you,” he nodded and sighed, stood up and started walking away but you took his arm before he could leave. “please. i’ll do everything to make this thing work, but the news are eventually going to fade and our marriage will just become old news. i don’t have to stop seeing him just because of this… just like you don’t have to stop seeing that idol you’re going out with,” jay looked at you with pity in his eyes and cussed. “i’m not dating anyone, that was just a rumour. we’re getting married because that has to fade away, yes, but also because in this industry you have to be seen as mature as you can to be taken seriously and a wife will make people think i have my feet on earth and i’m prepared to take the lead. don’t be silly, and listen to me: even if the news fade away, you’ll still have cameras on you. just as idols and actors, ceo’s are also faces in this country and they try to put us in scandals too, and you being my wife are going to be in the same peephole as i am. the photographers are always going to be on your back,”. even if you didn’t want to accept it, you knew he was right.

“yes, we’ve paid the news not to photograph us but we didn’t pay the people. hyunjin and i have been cautious about everything and as you said yourself, for almost a year we haven’t been caught. no one knows about us, just his friends. i will not give up on him, not for my father and definitely not for you” he stared at you and refuted your statement but knew your stubbornness would let you open your eyes. “okay. do as you wish but if you fuck up, you’ll regret it. deeply,”.

he got out of your grip on his arm, leaving you with a fearful feeling in your stomach. you were afraid of what was going to happen next, you were afraid of everything. “jay,” you called. “i’m not stupid” he laughed. “love makes you stupid, angel. you’ll see, eventually, that i was right. you’ll only hurt him staying with him, i am a man too and i know how men feel when they see the woman they love next to another man. i am not trying to make you break up with him just because we’re getting married, i just know how he will feel. just think about it, would you like to see him going out on dates with a colleague, holding another woman’s hand, kissing her and even have to see him on the altar, pretending to be married just so their work gains more popularity due to their story? even if he comes home to you, you’ll be jealous and uncomfortable. how do you think he’s feeling right now?” and so he left.

you sat down and thought about what he said, you knew he was right if you saw it like that but love does make you stupid. you couldn’t just leave him. you refused to do it. how really could you?

the next day, jay picked you up around six to get dinner. he had explained everything you had to do and how important it was since it was your first public apparition, you nodded at everything he said just to stop him from speaking anymore. “please, do not do anything i’m not aware of,” you said as you stepped out of the car as jay opened your door. people started to gossip as they saw you. “change your fucking face, jesus, how do you expect people to believe we’re in love if you have that shitty face on you” he whispered to your ear and deposited a kiss on your cheek. you interlaced your fingers with his and smiled at him, walking to the restaurant you were about to get dinner from. “mr. park, welcome. your table’s ready,” the waiter said as he slightly bowed. when you two sat down he ordered a bottle of wine right away. “i think the photographers are already here” you whispered to him looking out of the window. “good, the quicker the better. okay, listen, we have to make this work one way or another,” you nodded, agreeing with him. “i hate this as much as you do, but well… our opinions don’t matter, we’ll get married in two weeks,” he grinned and you smiled thankfully at the waiter who brought the wine and served you. jay ordered for both of you and he left again.

you two talked about basic nonsense to actually meet up. he also told you how his life was in the u.s and then in europe, you told him about how much you wanted to study art in italy and he listened. while doing all of this, you faked full happiness and love, every once in a while jay held your hand and even placed your hair behind your ear while smiling and touching your face with cuteness. “you’re making me fucking sick,” you whispered to him. “why are you so fucking obnoxious? just do your damn job”.

after dinner he took you back to the car and started driving back to your place. “see? that wasn’t that bad,” he commented and you agreed. jay wasn’t a said asshole as everyone stated, he was actually quite nice to talk to and was very interesting. you paid attention to him the whole time he spoke about himself and he did the same when you did, at least that was a good thing, you were both interested in each other’s lives. “hey, why don’t i have an engagement ring?” he mumbled a fuck and also remembered that part. he took out a little box from the glove box in front of you and gave you the black velvet box. you opened it and unconsciously smiled at the beautiful ring. “i have to put it on myself? c’mon, make me believe this bloody engagement” you laughed at him, mockingly. jay sighed and placed the ring in your finger, it fitted perfectly. “i chose it” he said, visibly proud of himself. you smiled and agreed he had a good taste, then you started talking again and basically forgot he was being forced into marrying you. talking with jay was very endearing, until you remembered that you had a boyfriend and that you were literally obligated to go on that date with jay. “it was nice… today,” it’s what you said before leaving the car.

jay watched you walk quickly inside your home and realized how hard he was gripping onto the steering wheel, he exhaled knowing he was doomed. ever since you two were children and you stubbornly accompanied your father to see his meetings you saw jay there. he always found you beautiful but you were never interested in him, when he moved out of the country to go to the states he used to stalk you on social media to see how you were doing and jealously cussed at your stories in which you looked beautiful. when he received the big marriage news, he felt devastated knowing you would hate him for an eternity. he knew you were dating someone since he saw all of your instagram stories, and now, he didn’t wanted another man to have what was soon going to be his.

in the morning while sipping on some coffee you texted jay about what your father had made you do: go find a tux for your fiancée. he didn’t reply, you called him twice but still, no answer. you never thought he was then in hyunjin’s apartment, demanding to speak to him.

“my name’s park jongseong, i’m your girlfriend's fiancée and i‘m here to talk to you,” he spoke calmly and strongly. hyunjin stood frozen in front of the door, thinking how stupid he must’ve looked. “i have nothing to talk with you,” the painter said, but jay insisted. “look, i’m not gonna take up much of your time. i just wanna talk about what’s going on here,” he said, looking directly into hyunjin’s eyes. “we’re getting married sooner than expected and i just want to talk to you, man to man,” the eldest one chuckled. “you are a main problem. with you in between everything suffers to go down, and can’t stand her still seeing you. she’s naturally stubborn, and won’t listen to me or her father and that’s why i’m here. you have to leave her” hyunjin refused and asked him to leave immediately. jay looked at him and kept on talking, ignoring whatever he had to say. “if you don’t break up for good, i’ll make you a villain to her. here’s a melioration for you; stay away from her. if you don’t want any fucking trouble, do as i’m telling you. you know i’m not messing around here” hyunjin threw the envelope filled with money in his lap while refusing his offer and stood up, jay began talking again before he could. “don’t be a fucking dickhead and understand, we can make you lose everything you’ve worked hard for if you don’t listen to me. i’m sure you’re not that stupid to mess around. break up with my fiancée today, i will not ask you again,” jay left without saying another word.

hyunjin opened the envelope and exhaled seeing the massive amount in it. he knew jay wasn’t joking when he said that about what he’s worked hard for, even if he loved you deeply, he wasn’t in the position to actually risk everything he had. he had no chance, so he called you and broke up the relationship telling you he couldn’t stand the situation and it was better for him to back off. “it was jay, wasn’t he?” your voice cracked, hyunjin kept quiet as he never allowed himself to lie to you and you laughed. “jin, did he pay you?” you cried, hearing you like that was breaking his heart and he sighed, tearing up. “he said if i didn’t do it i’d lose everything i’ve ever worked for” you chuckled feeling your blood boil. “i seriously don’t wanna cause any trouble, you know i love you and i love you deeply, but i can’t be in between something like this. i need you to understand i’m not doing this for the money, but because i’ve worked hard for a long time and i will not lose it because some rich boy wants to see me fall” you cried as you heard him so sure about his decision, and also because you knew you couldn’t even argue on it. “i love you, and i will always do. you’ll find yourself in every piece of my art from now on, our love will never die. never. if you ever wish to come back to me, i will be waiting here, always” hyunjin hung up the call.

you wanted to rip your face off afterwards, your only plan was to call jay calming up and lying to him. “hey, you. look, i know things aren’t the best between us and, what do you say you come to my house right now? no one’s home and i’ll be waiting for you,” your voice was raspy and faked sensuality when in reality you were bawling your eyes out. you heard jay’s exhale through the speaker and replied coldly with a: “i’ll be there”. men. they were all the same, they all only wanted the same thing. after hanging up with your soon-to-be husband, your whole body melted into the mattress as your throat hurt from screaming your lungs out, you’d never had a broken heart before and much less with hyunjin, you wanted to die. you didn’t even realise how much you had been crying when you heard the door open and a manly smell filled the room. “YOU SON OF A BITCH! COMING HERE RUNNING THINKING I’D SUCK YOU OFF BUT HOW FUCKING DARE YOU GO TO HYUNJIN AND THREATEN HIM TO LEAVE ME?! IF WHAT YOU WANTED WAS FOR ME TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU THE ONLY THING YOU’RE GETTING FROM ME IS HATRED. I HATE YOU, PARK JONGSEONG!” you started hitting his chest with all of your strength, but he stopped you by grabbing your wrists and hugging your body to stop, now realizing how tired you felt.

you suddenly calmed down in his arms, jay shushed you and took your body to the bed where he made you lay down and him next to you. “what are you doing?” you cried, he didn’t answer, wrapping his arms around your waist and calming you down. it worked, you started feeling your breath cool off and your body stopped shaking. jay caressed your hair slowly, his fingers tangling with every thread of it until they reached your neck which felt sensitive at the touch of his fingertips. “am i so wrong not wanting another man touching what’s mine?” he whispered to your ear, the minty smell of his breath making you shiver under his touch. “it doesn’t give you the right to pay my boyfriend literal bills to break up with me. that’s just mean, jay… that’s mean,” the tears started flowing again, but he managed to trick your mind into forgetting about it. “you’re gonna realize the favour i made you. you’ll have it all with me, you won’t need some stupid, sensitive painter who can’t give you anything. i’ll bring down the stars if you want them,” he whispered, pulling your body closer to his. “your cup will never be empty, your eyes will never have tears on them, your heart will never be broken, your hands will never be alone, your body will never be cold, your wallet will always be full. give us a chance, baby” his whisper came even closer until there was just a tiny millimetre pulling you apart. your head was divided into two things: hyunjin had just broken up with you and jay smelled heavenly. he noticed the confusion in your eyes and laughed at you, making you frown and try to back off, but jay’s grip was stronger than you. “are you gonna lie to yourself and say you don’t even like me a little bit?” your heart rose up and you cursed at yourself for it, knowing jay would feel the beat and laugh again. “i’ll take that as a yes,” with every word he said, he reached for your mouth with hungry eyes. you never imagined being in that position before, not after what just happened, because you had surely thought about it.

years before, when you were thirteen and jay was fifteen you attended sim jake’s birthday party and your now fiancée was there being one of the birthday boy’s best friends. “let’s play seven minutes in heaven,” sooha said and the boys laughed at her. “c’mon, we’re not eight” heeseung replied, but it was jake’s party and he was the one to chose the very famous suck and blow, but you weren’t really excited about it being next to jay and dooya, a girl whose family moved to the u.s and never came back. the nervousness rose up your spine knowing if you weren’t capable of keeping the stupid thin piece of paper in your lips, you would have your first kiss either with a girl or with jay. “fingers crossed for you to kiss him” yunjin winked at you and you cussed at her. as probably every girl there, you were desperate to kiss him but too shy to admit it and actually act on it, so you really wanted to focus on keeping the paper on your lips. every teen in the small party squirmed whenever someone almost kissed, until sunghoon and sooha did and everyone laughed at it since they backed off immediately in disgust. the game started again and when dooya reached for your lips you sucked onto your life in that paper and moved your head to seek jay’s but he blew on it and made it fall off. no one noticed he did that but you and everyone cheered when neither of you backed off. jay kissed your lips almost dumbly, he was a teenager after all.

after that incident, your childly brain had a little crush on park jongseong, but it quickly faded away since he moved to the u.s and was barely seen in korea. then you grew up and totally forgot about him, meeting hyunjin and all. when you saw jay again for the first time was back on his father’s company anniversary and he looked better than ever, but you only had eyes for someone else. now, seeing him so close to your face and knowing you had no attachment to anyone anymore made your heart melt. “we never got along when we were children, but we both remember that kiss at jake’s party” he said as if he were a mind reader. “you were so desperate for it, just like you’re now… but we were children then, right now i can sense something else in your eyes. oh, baby, is it lust in them?” jay was purposely laughing at your state. cheeks flustered, lips puffy and reddish from all the crying and glowy eyes from the situation. you sure knew your brain was tricking you into believing something it didn’t feel and jay knew it too. you were hurt and him coming to you like that in your state was your last straw to keep your mind off what was actually going on but god, he smelled so expensive and delicious you just wanted to drown in it. your mind betrayed you and your lips smashed into jay’s, hungrily eating them out. your body climbed on top of his and his hands groped your waist as your kiss escalated. little moans left your lips every time you backed off to get some air and he enjoyed them a little too much, showing how much he loved them with his hips slowly thrusting onto your core making you groan in pleasure. “am i the meanest man on earth right now too, my darling?” he mocked you while touching your ass and squeezing it. his lips ate yours again and now everything that was heard in the room was your sloppy kissing and messed-up groans. you drifted apart from jay’s lips with a thread of saliva keeping you together and your body began to move almost by itself on top of him, the man underneath you closed his eyes and sighed, feeling his hard rock dick being stimulated. you glared at him hypnotized by his beautiful moans, so pretty you felt butterflies in your stomach. “it feels so nice,” you whispered to yourself as you threw your head back and humped his cock faster. jay let out a loud groan and pushed your waist onto him to feel everything even more and it made you tremble in pleasure. “fuck” you whined as you felt your clit getting sensitive, jay was enjoying his view as he took control of your body and gave you small thrusts but your hips did all the work. he was smirking at how nice you felt just touching him with clothes on, making him realize you were quite hungry for him before. soon enough, your body shook and your lips mumbled incomprehensible words announcing your climax and jay happily encouraged you to do so. “such a pretty lady” he whispered to you as your body fell upfront, he groped your cheeks and kissed you again, your mind going crazy about how tasty his lips were. feeling drunk on him you finally backed off and stared into his eyes. “just shut up” jay spoke up.

his arms turned your body to your side next to him and he caressed your hair in a way you felt sleepy, which was exactly what he wanted to do. “jay” you called, he didn’t respond just listened. “i liked it” his breath cut off as his hands travelled from your hair to your waist, which he hugged and you moaned in comfort.

your brain was incredibly confused. partially knowing you agreed on it because of the pain but the afterwards was also enjoyable. was it all because of hyunjin? you wept off the thoughts from your head and closed your eyes, almost immediately falling asleep. jay saw this and battled himself about staying or leaving, it was the middle of the day and totally knew how inappropriate it would be if his soon to be parents in law found him there with you, so he waited until you completely fell asleep and went downstairs to leave, before leaving he kissed your forehead and whispered goodbye.

jay’s actions weren’t like that out of nowhere. he was a bitchy, arrogant asshole and believed in himself better than others sometimes, but he also had a heart. a very big heart. when you two were little you were both stubborn, just like your father’s, so you decided to go with them to meetings and spend the day with them and then regret your decisions about two hours after the whole day started and in one of those occasions, you met jongseong. he was ten and you were eight and he looked at you as if you were unreal. “hi! wanna play hide and seek?” you said with a childish, high-pitched voice. jay, being naturally uninterested denied your request but you pouted and insisted, telling him how bored you were and that he was the only kid there with whom you could play, so he ended up agreeing. during the whole time, jay thought you were pretty cute and later on in the day he asked his father for your name and told him: “she’s pretty”, with a silly smile on his face.

jay smiled dumbly remembering that moment as he drove off your property. he had always found you beautiful and used to have a crush on you, taking his shot at jake’s fifteen birthday party, but soon enough his father told him he was leaving to study abroad and he distanced himself from you forever, stalking you on social media and being jealous every time you posted a picture with who now he knows was hyunjin, since you never showed his face on your instagram or anywhere else. when james park told him about the marriage plan he never thought of it as bad but was hurt knowing you’d probably hate him and despise the whole relationship and that’s why he was trying to get lovelier and better just for you to enjoy at least his company. jay knew he was doomed, he knew you’d probably never experience the same feelings as him but even with that, he was satisfied with you being his wife. “change of plans, wedding’s in two days, son. things were arranged quicker than expected and everything’s now perfect” mr. park said while walking into the kitchen seeing his son grabbing a cold beer from the fridge. “does mr. lee know already?” he nodded and sighed. “you know son, i like this kid. this marriage is for views but i like her and i think you should really go out as a couple, yeah? she’s nice and beautiful, such a good girl” jay smiled stupidly but erased it from his face just as soon as he caught himself doing it in front of his own father. “she is, i’ll try. she’s not that bad after all,” he said leaving the kitchen to head to his bedroom, not very sure about what he really felt or what did you actually told him you liked it. he felt bad for somewhat taking advantage of your broken heart but satisfied with what had happened, knowing that some part of you was also okay with it.

next time you saw each other was two days after, at the altar.

people praised you for the beautiful dress mrs. park had picked and your mother was emotional and whiney about her only daughter already getting married, but the only thing that surprised you that day was your father’s words to jay. “please, take good care of my daughter and promise me that if you ever change your mind and want her off of your life, bring her back to me just like i’m giving her away to you now: heart in hands. you’re now my son too, jongseong” he let go of your hand to hug jay tightly and palm his back with tenderness. “your daughter’s in safe hands, mr. lee” he said back, your father nodded pleased and left you with him to take a seat.

after the ceremony you two had to go take pictures for the press, jay hugged you and kissed you for the cameras and you felt a small pinch in your heart knowing he was only doing it for them. you never imagined your marriage to be so empty and fake, that made you tear up and the photographers noticed. “why is the bride so sad?” they shouted. “oh, no! i’m not sad! these are happy tears! i’m married to the most handsome, caring man here!” you tried to smile, showing your hand with now two rings on it and hugged jay faking love, he hugged you back and kissed your head. moments later the staff told the press their time was up and they let you go, a car parked in front of the two of you ready to take you home. “you look ethereal today, so, so pretty” jongseong whispered to you in the car, you turned your head to face the window for him not to notice the sudden blush on your cheeks. “also… about that time-” you shook your head and couldn’t hide your laughter, facing him again with a red face. “let’s just not say anything. i already told you- i liked it” that was enough for him to be pleased with the situation.

the ride was long and you stared either at the window or your phone the whole time, but he stared at you and admired your prettiness. he didn’t wanted to think of the marriage as a cold, forced, unhappy relationship- well, obviously he knew that’s what it was but he wanted it not to be like that and was totally down to make you fall for him, and he knew exactly how. jay didn’t really know you weren’t really that innocent either.

even though you two had absolutely no contact at all during your childhood and adolescence, you two always had a small liking in between. you perfectly remembered seeing jongseong’s face on the news next to his father after his return to korea, while watching the news with hyunjin you couldn’t hide your stupid smile just thinking “he looks even better now” and he remembered just smiling all the time you posted something and then going back to stalk you while thinking the exact same thing as him. you eyes jay and noticed him already looking at you, both of you laughed embarrassed about it. “okay, this is your new home, my darling girl” he announced as he stepped out of the car to open your door. “this is too much…” the place was bigger than mr. park’s and that was a hell of a house, jay refuted your comment and shook his head. “it’ll be so lonely with just the two of us here” he took your hand and smiled warmly. “that’s why we have to fill it up with joy” his words made you blush but you quickly tried to play it cool, walking up to your new home. quickly, two ladies took you to the dining room announcing they had prepared food to celebrate your new marriage, both of you thanked them and ate gracefully. it was quite funny tho since he was in his luxurious suit and you in your wedding gown. “hey, so, i have to go to a meeting tomorrow and i was thinking maybe you could come with me so i can show you around, after all, you’ll inherit everything” you frowned your eyebrows, but jay’s happy grin on his face made you agree with his wishes.

after dinner, you went upstairs to take off your dress, your now husband had said your stuff had already been taken there and you thanked him for it. as you finished changing your clothes, jay entered the room. “i wanna talk to you” he said, mood all changed and harsh. “what’s up?” you replied while laying down, jay sat next to you. “look… you just broke up with that guy and i know you actually quite liked him so, i know i won’t receive everything from you, i know you still hate the idea of being forced to marry me and all that, but we gotta make this work. i was serious when i told you that with me, you’ll never lack anything, you just have to ask and i’ll give it to you. i wanna make this work and… look i like you, i’ve liked you for quite some time now and believe me when i tell you making this work is what i want the most. i wasn’t gonna allow you to have a relationship with another man because i want you to be in love with me, not any other fucking guy” you lowered your head and played with your fingers as you heard him saying all that. you didn’t know if it was that the realization of the breakup hadn’t hit you yet but you only felt hurt when you heard the news, once jay was with you in your room, all of your sorrow vanished and you felt like it was all okay next to him, you didn’t want to say anything because you didn’t knew if that really was a reality, but you knew you also wanted to make that relationship work, after all, you’d be spending every day together and hating each other wasn’t really an option. “i agree with you, i wanna make it work. i’m down for it, believe me, i know the whole recent breakup thing must be… a little impediment right now but, well, it doesn’t mean it’ll fuck everything forever, yeah? i don’t hate being with you and also, i don’t really hate the idea of this thing anymore i mean, i’m glad it’s you and not some other guy” jay was satisfied with that, he smiled at you again and you smiled back at him, a little worried, but more comfortable. “you can have this room if you want, i’ll be next door” you shook your head and held his hand. “maybe… sleeping in the same bed will help. i’ve heard that marriages have to… sleep next to each other so it really works out, you know?” you’d never heard that in your life, you just wanted a scientific fact to convince him, totally forgetting jay was a literal oxford graduate. “they say that they don’t work if there’s no intimacy, but i’ll take it” he winked at you and walked up to the closet to change his clothes. you blushed at his response and covered yourself up with the blankets, embarrassed. you peeked an eye when you heard his steps coming back and noticed him buttoning up his silk pyjamas, giving you a full show of his abs. you squeezed your thighs together to calm down the sudden reaction you had at seeing that scene, god, you felt pathetic being so easy for jay. you didn’t knew what it was, either his perfume of his cunty eyes, but he had something that just made you bail down to everything. “i saw you” he suddenly says, you squirm in embarrassment going under the blankets again, jay went inside the bed and fought you to see your burning red face. “it’s okay, i’m all yours. i’m your husband” he winks, letting you go.

park jongseong was gonna be the end of you. mark it.

“this is my wife, she’ll be accompanying me today but will wait outside for confidentiality,” jay says with a proud smile, holding your hand. his colleagues saluted and you let go of his hand while leaving the conference room to go sit in the reception with a few other workers. you read a book while waiting for jay, losing track of time until your phone announces a message.

you laughed at the text and asked him if he could go out for a second, he denied it saying he couldn’t until they set the deal. you left your reading aside and walked to the restroom for a moment, while washing your hands and thinking about what jay had told you, you smiled to yourself and locked up in a cubicle again. you unbuttoned your blouse and pushed your boobs up to take a picture of them, you felt like a teenager doing that but found it funny to send one to jay during his meeting. you also took a picture of your ass behind your flared skirt and while analyzing them and making sure they were good pics, you send them next to a: “hope this makes your meeting more exciting ;)”.

jay opened the message almost immediately and only left you on read. you felt embarrassed and tried to remove it hiding your face in the book again, but couldn’t, your cheeks were burning your heart was rising and just everything felt uncomfortable and embarrassing. god, what were you thinking? after a while jay came out of the room and didn’t even bother to look at you, he just took your hand and rushed his way out of the room. “i’m so sorry” you said while lowering your head so he couldn’t see your face, but jay didn’t answer to the apology he just kept on walking until he reached the elevator and hit some number and doors opened quickly after that, realizing it was an office which you supposed was his. as you two walked, jay suddenly let go of your hand and took your face with his hand to make you look at him. “what’s with your funny business?” he said with dark eyes and dull voice. you were only able to shake your head and look away, but were unable since he had such a hard grip on your face. “you think's funny to send me that shit while i’m making a millionaire deal?” jay came closer to you and whispered angrily, making you squirm in nervousness. “just yesterday we became a marriage and both agreed on making this work, but today the only thing you want is to be a slut?” hearing his words made you open your eyes in surprise and went back to look at him quite shocked, he chuckled at your sudden impression and nodded his head. “if you want to be a slut, be one. c’mon,” he declares looking straight into your eyes with excitement in them, his words definitely surprised you but you weren’t an idiot, you were confused by what he meant but at the same time knew exactly what he wanted. your eyes travelled from his face to his lower abdomen, in which just a little bit further down you could find his rock-hard cock awaiting some touch. “are we in your office? someone could walk in” you whispered but jay ignored you. “oh, now you’re worried about people? nah, you’ll do as i say and fix your fucking problem” he demanded and even though you were shocked, you knew why you had sent those pictures. you weren’t so innocent after all.

your hands slowly reached for his belt and took it off, then calmly continued to unbutton his pants while pulling them down. one of your hands reached for his shaft and massaged it over the cloth, jay sighed at the satisfying sensation and caressed your hair while you did the same to his cock. when you felt like he was actually ready to be stroked, you pulled his underwear down and glared at him, he chuckled while continuing his affective touch and your hand almost shakily grabbed him as you dryly stroked for him to get excited, jay made a quiet groan as he tilted his head to see your eyes. quickly, the realization hit you and you spat on your hand to start and stroke him, that’s when he sat in his chair with you in between his legs. jay pulled your hair making you moan in pain, but continued to do your job. you saw him getting relaxed and closing his eyes due to the sensation and kept on with your job. you took the matter into his tip and kitty-licked it just to wet it, then wrapping it in your hand and massaging it slowly, you heard him drown moan, then you moved on to the whole thing and put both hands into work, watching his head thrown in the back of the chair. “take it like a good girl” he whispered with dilated pupils, staring at you with his mouth wide open and pushing your head into his crotch so you could take his dick inside your mouth and so you did, jay going feral at the explosive sensation of the warmth and hot cavity. your tongue worked up in his tip, making circles around it and then bobbing just on it making him groan loudly, then you continued to force yourself to take his cock fully into your mouth and do your best job, wanting to show off your skills and how you could be completely capable to please him. for some reason you felt like you really wanted to impress him in every way and mostly with pleasure, stupidly, since jay just found sexual pleasure as a complement in your marriage. “where did you learn this?” he groaned while moaning, his sounds like music to your ears. his hands caressing your head as he slowly made you gag on him and your lips formed a perfect o which made his sensitivity go up. for some reason, you were quietly enjoying what you were doing until you heard a loud knock on the door. your eyes met his and they only reflected lust, but you got hot by seeing him. hair messy, cheeks flustered, eyes glassy, coat off and loose tie. god, he was hot. “mr. park? i need you to sign some forms, they’re urgent!” a lady shouted from the outside, jay clicked his tongue and whispered something to you so low that you couldn’t even hear him very well but quite understood that he wanted you to keep down and not make any noise. “come in” you cussed at him for doing it, observed every little detail. whom you thought was his secretary’s heels sounded in the whole room and you heard her chuckle at him. “i’m so sorry for bothering you, sir, but this forms must be signed today and you know it,” she comments handing him the papers, jay didn’t responded to anything only made sure his hips weren’t seen and you were quiet. “you look good today sir, is that a new tie?” she said in a cheeky tone, jay sighed. “it ain’t, lia. are this the forms mr. jeon wanted signed? the meeting we had like three weeks ago?” she nodded and kept on trying to get jay’s attention, down there, you felt a little jealous. after all, he was your now husband and didn’t want him to be all played by everyone, so your hands started pumping on his still-hard cock and jay flinched at the sensation, after prepping him again you got him in your mouth and sucked him like your life depended on it, trying to make as less sound as possible. “jay, are you alright?” her calling him by his first name made almost made you furious, so your head bobbed on his dick and your tongue played with every single inch of it. “just take them and go,” he said after signing the forms, but the woman insisted. “no, you look quite hot. are you feeling ill? oh, is it because of your newest woman? oh… jay,” you wanted to scream.

whilst jay tried to get his secretary off his ass, both your hands and mouth worshipped his dick like it was some sort of deity. you saw jay throw his head back while his eyes went blank because of the pleasure, but he tried to cover it up by saying: “god, just stop! you’re fucking annoying me, s-shit” the woman moaned a whine and left the room angrily. jay’s chair backed off abruptly and took your hand in between both of his hands and controlled it, making it suck him off roughly. “you little slut, what the fuck were you even thinking now? sucking me with her here? was my angel jealous?” you whined in response because of his tip hitting the back of your throat furiously but he didn’t stop. “show me. show me how you’re gonna demonstrate to her i’m yours,” his words and eyes excited you, your tired jaw taking him in just a few more times until your hands took control of the situation in the length and your lips on his tip, jay groaned out loudly in pleasure and shut his eyes closed, one hand covering his eyes whilst the other rested in his abdomen. it was true he had been a long, long time without sex and he was sensitive, but what finally made him give in was just your mouth. when eye contact came in, your slow thrusts and your tongue were informed by his twitching cock that he was about to cum. jay grope your hair and made you deepthroat him again, he started moaning softly (his moans were probably one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life) and you felt yourself getting wet. “ah, gonna cum” he whispers frowning and opening his mouth just a little to moan in complete pleasure, his head hit the pouchy chair again and groaned while his seed rolled down your throat. “fucking swallow it” he stated taking your face in between his hand, his voice was raspy and his eyes were a little tired. you did what he said and showed him your tongue, just to confirm. “good girl. that’s my good girl,” you got up, sat on his lap and looked at him. jay smirked and you admired his beauty. could’ve been the pheromones he’d just released or the fact that he was just gorgeous, that made you rub your thighs together to stop the heat forming in but quietly gasped at the sensation of wetness in your panties. “what is it, baby? oh… did my angel enjoy sucking me off that bad?” his hand slowly reached for your inner thighs, caressing them. you felt your blood fall completely to your centre and moaned when one of his fingers traced a tiny line in your pussy. “ah yeah, i see you did” he laughed at you while pulling in closer to your face and kissing you. “such a pretty lady” he says, starting to rub his fingertips on your clit. “no, no… not right now. let’s go home” you plead, he kisses your forehead and agrees.

jay tried to act normal while stepping out of his office, but his secretary was shocked to see him coming out of it hugging your shoulders. your eyes locked with hers and you smirked proudly, your arm hugging jay’s waist while your lips made their way to his cheek to deposit a little kiss on it. “what a…” she whispered, annoyed. when you two got to the car, the driver outside was holding a beautiful peony and tulip bouquet and handed it to you, you looked at jay with sparkly puppy eyes and thanked him. “they’re not mine” he says, angrily. “why do you have that?” jay asks the driver. “a blond man gave them to the receptionist saying they were for mrs. park. he didn’t left a note or anything else,” you knew it was hyunjin. that made your eyes water, realizing you’d never told jay what your favourite flowers were. you saw the bouquet and wanted to hug it, your tears glazed up and looked around out of inertia, finding no one. “put them in the trash,” jay ordered, snatching the thoughtful gift from your hands and giving it to the driver, who immediately found a trash can where he threw them. “no! wait!” you shouted, too late. you ran to the can and saw the flowers destroyed, but also a note. you acted around and took it without them knowing, you walked back to the two men and got in the car. jay took your hands and looked at you, he was still as handsome as he was just a few moments ago but now your heart was sensible. “i paid that piece of shit a huge amount and he comes and does this, that fucker” jay said, hurting you. suddenly, you remembered, you married a man whom you did not love and who paid the man you were enamoured of and paid him money to leave you, threatening him with ruining his career if he didn’t listen. when the realization hit you, you were sad again.

at home, you ran to your room and locked yourself in the bathroom as you knew jay would be there in a few minutes. you opened the note and cried at his handwriting. “why do you want him if he doesn’t even know the colour of your eyes? when i’ve even counted every single one of your lashes” his words made you burst out in crying. you knew you couldn’t do anything, you weren’t going to contact him either. it was your new life and you were now married, even if it was arranged you found it disrespectful to cry over another man in your husband’s house. hyunjin chose his work over you, and even if it hurt you, you had a new life and had to get used to it, you even made a promise to jay: you had to make it work. so you removed your makeup and did your skincare, put on pyjamas and got comfy to pretend that why you’d took so long in the bathroom, also, your puffy eyes could be excused by the yawns the long ride had given you. “i don’t want you crying over another man that isn’t me, suck it the fuck up” he stated as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom. you froze, watching his eyes furiously and annoyed. “i’m sorry” was the only thing you could say, sitting down next to jay and him staring into your souls with his characteristic deep stare. “are you still talking to him?” you nodded a no, he tilted his head and took your hand. “i don’t think it’s very clever of him to do that by his own matter so i’m gonna ask you again, are you still speaking to hwang hyunjin?” you repeated your movement and grabbed your phone, handing it to him. “look for yourself. i said i wanted to make this work, so no, i am not speaking to him. why would i? he gave up on me for money” your harsh words made your tears come out again and jay squeezed your hand, making you look at him. his thumb wiped your tears and he reached for your forehead and kissed it. “i was too hard on you, i apologize for the use of words. i understand your sensitivity, i’m sorry for what i did but just please understand my feelings for you and what i wish for us to have” you nodded softly, jay way wasn’t the best one but you tried to understand he did it out of desperation, knowing you’d never actually break up with hyunjin and also that it would be really bad for both of you to be involved in a scandal about cheating. “i’m glad you can understand my feelings, but i think it was just the surprise that took me off guard. let’s just not speak about this and move on with our lives, hyunjin isn’t part of us any longer so he can send a million flowers if he wishes but they won’t be taken in, i don’t want to have feelings for a man who sold himself off” your words gave you a tiny pain in your chest, even though you knew it was the truth, the breakup was too recent and it still hurt a little, after all, you were human too.

that night you slept cuddling with jay, you two were reading a book together when you fell asleep, but he didn’t. jay closed the book and decided to watch your relaxed grin, deep breathing and glowy look. you felt safe next to him and grope his arm to your chest as in trying to get him even closer to you. he smiled while watching you and finally closed his eyes as he rested his head on yours, softly. sleepiness hitting his body and quickly fell asleep. jay’s ways weren’t the best, but his intentions were clear: he wanted to be your husband, regardless of the situation.

months passed by and your relationship with jay kept getting closer and closer. now, you went out on your own matter to get to actually know each other and two sides won, yours and your parents because of the photographers who followed you around with cameras. it grew like a natural, healthy relationship. first, you two hung out as friends, then you realized you were developing feelings and told him about it, giving the cameras one of the most sounded pictures of the whole thing: jay lifting your body up in the air while hugging and kissing you, all very lovely. finally, came the lovers part, in which you two were especially good at. “are you working today?” you asked him while he was in the bathroom, he replied with a loud no and you smiled to yourself, jay walked out shirtless with only grey sweats covering him up, he turned his back on you to look at himself in the mirror and comb his hair. your eyes stared at his built back and stepped out of bed to reach for him, your hands softly hugged his waist and then your palms reached for his chest, squeezing it carefully. “what is it?” he asked you with his characteristic harsh stare, your lips kissed his low shoulder since it was what you could reach and he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head a little. before he could argue again, your hand made its way all to his sweats, where you got it in. you felt jay tense up as your hand slowly pumped dry on his cock, your kisses on his back made his skin shiver and his head slowly fell off to the back, groaning. “oh, baby, what is it?” he asked very softly, barely under a whisper. you didn’t respond to him, only kept on with your ongoing action and watched him chill off as the sensation slowly became more and more pleasurable. under your hand, you could feel himself growing and moaning softly when feeling the thickness of his shaft completely take off your whole hand and the length of it hitting his pants, him moaning in nuisance at the sensation. “is this how it is?” he asked, again, no answer. jay started to feel desperate. “please… what is it?” he asked again, you smiled playfully when his tip dropped some precum after feeling completely prepared. your thumb distributed the salty liquid as much as you could as lub and his little sounds were driving you insane. “i’ve been wanting you so bad for weeks now, but you wouldn’t do anything so i had to search for it myself” you finally spoke up, jay locked eyes with you and chuckled. “i’ve been wanting it just as much as you have, but wasn’t sure it was the best thing to do” you nodded, accelerating your work, jay felt his knees weakening and prayed for them not to fail him, but when you suddenly kneeled and placed your hands on his thighs after taking off his sweats and boxers, he found it difficult for them not to fall to the ground. “o-oh, fuck” he finally was able to moan when your cavity took him in completely. “oh, you’re gonna be the end of me” he whined as his hips thrust slowly onto your throat, your hands squeezed his thighs and his’ softly caressed your hair. your head bobbed on his cock and made a mess he sure was going to recall first thing after he recovers soberness from his excitement. “s-shit, you take me in so good” it could dangerously become an obsession for jay to fuck your mouth, he loved it there. your hands helped your tongue to please him, one hand on his shaft and the other on his balls, jay swore he was reaching heaven. “god, such a dirty fucking slut for me… you’re just made for me” his whisper made you whine and work harder on him, so his hips rocked your cavity as he felt the known knot on his stomach warning him about his orgasm, but he didn’t want to cum just yet so he pushed you away. “c’mere” he softly said as he threw you onto the mattress, his mouth attacked your neck and devoured it, marking it as his. “you enjoy teasing me a little too much, don’t you?” he asked with lust in his voice, you squealed underneath him as the touch of his hands burnt your skin. “jay…” you whispered and he laughed at your whine knowing you were the one who started it.

even if you were the horny one there and wanted everything with him, you two had never had actual sex before and you were sorta nervous about showing him such vulnerability. “jay, what?” he asked, hands unbuttoning your pyjamas and already had taken your shorts off. “jay, please. touch me” you pleaded but he didn’t respond. “you’re such a whore for coming up to me like that, you dirty thing” after ignoring you, his lips attacked yours, tangling both your tongues and his palms teasing your body. he pulled away for just one minute and made the most heavenly sound you could’ve ever heard, already ignoring the traces of saliva on your mouth and feeling the little drops of water from his hair on your skin. “i saw you following heeseung on instagram” you frowned, not knowing why he suddenly brought that up and laughed at the sudden intervention, but jay took your face in between one of his hands and made you look at him. “can you not understand that you belong to me?” he spat, eyes black and a scary smile on his face. “answer me, can you not understand?” you mumbled a whisper and his grip became rougher. “i’m all yours jay, all yours. everything about me is just… yours” you whined as you felt his fingers already working on your clit. he was satisfied with your response, and knowing you were the one who searched for it, jay bawled to your wishes. “what, my love? do you regret coming like a bitch in heat to me?” you refuted of his comments and got on top of him to kiss him like your life depended on it. jay reached for your bra and easily unbuttoned it, taking it off your shirt and squeezing your breasts over it, you moaned in pleasure watching his hands completely covering them up. after a while of kissing, jay broke the kiss to finally take off your shirt and small shorts, leaving you semi-naked. “you’re so beautiful” he whispered on your lips to swiftly place your body on the mattress and continue to kiss you.

every time you and jay had any sexual contact, your kisses were always filled with just plain excitation, but this time was different and you wanted to believe it was because, like you, he wanted the moment to be pleasurable and pleasant for both of you, not just some one-night sex thing. slowly, jay took off your panties as he broke the kiss, you exhaled hot breath seeing him caress your inner thighs and look straight into your soul. you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter just by the impotent image of him positioned between your legs, his worked-out body looking glowy and more appealing than ever. “don’t do this to me” you pleaded, whining feeling stimulated but he only laughed at your wish. “don’t do this to you? do you know how long i’ve waited to fuck you dumb? do you know how many times i’ve had to leave the bed because you were purposely backshotting me with your ass? huh? how i just play dumb when you touch me by mistake?” his voice was raspy and deep, eyes locking in with yours as you felt the heat rise up in the room. “so i will do whatever the fuck i want to you, because i’ve had enough of your stupid play” jay finishes off, his body backing off and face burying itself in between your thighs.

for a moment you froze down and let your body just feel jay’s wet tongue eating your core out, just for that moment you couldn’t talk nor whine, you couldn’t even do anything. he smirked at the state of dumbification and kept on with his good work, tongue on your clit and two fingers going in and out of you. “j-jay” you whispered and he looked at you. “there she is”. his actions became more and more pleasurable, his tongue making circles on your clit and then his mouth sucking on it while his fingers just kept working on your insides. your fingers reached for his hair and pulled it closer to you, making him eat you out completely while groaning, his hands caressing your ass as he made your legs go up in his shoulders giving him full access to you. your body squirmed underneath his touch and he began to feel drunk on your juices, both of you on the verge of insanity. your insides started to clench and jay accelerated his pace, making you go crazy, screaming his name and just straight up crying and whimpering. “do you wanna cum, baby?” he asked, you couldn’t even open your eyes trying to hold back the orgasm, somehow waiting for his permission and nodded, jay chuckled. “oh, you want me to allow you your freedom?” he mockingly asks, the only thing you could feel was his fingers losing the quick pace and becoming slower and the sensation even stronger. “make a mess on my fingers, love” he whispered and you didn’t have to be asked twice, you held the blankets for invisible support and moaned his name out loud while collapsing onto the mattress with shaky legs and burning red, hot body. jay stopped pounding and got up to position himself on top of you to kiss your lips, you moaned as soon as you tasted yourself in his mouth. “you’re gonna cum until satisfied” he said, your tired eyes met his and he smirked mockingly. jay wasn’t joking, you knew he wasn’t and you feared for life, already tired due to the past orgasm, he reached for the little night table and his neck was fully exposed to your mouth which definitely didn’t waste the opportunity to suck and lick his skin, leaving a little red mark on it which would soon become a notorious, purple hickey. jay moaned in pleasure at this gesture and kept on with his work, pumping his cock just a little to proceed and wrap it with a condom, you licked your lips suddenly eager to take him in you. “what do you say?” he asked, you frowned and nodded. “please jongseong, fuck me dumb” you whispered as he finally entered your pussy and pushed himself onto you. he waited a few moments until you got used to his side and even asked for permission to finally make a move, and when he did moans, groans, whines and whimpers came out of you as if you depended on them, you couldn’t speak nor move, feeling just too much for you to take. “is this what you wanted, angel? huh? is this what you’ve been crazily wanting?” he asked as his pelvic bone met your ass, his dick completely buried into you to very slowly began thrusting, slow and harsh. every sensation was new to you, jay made it be new and you wanted him to feel that. “more, more, please” you begged while taking his face between your palms and moaning with the most impressive doe eyes you didn’t even plan on putting. jay obeyed straight away after looking into your eyes and his hips rocked your core in and out while he held your body and his at the same time. “you’re okay?” he asked, the excitation in his voice still managed to express his feelings of deep concern and care in him. you only nodded, telling him you were fine.

the room was now all messy, moans and screams coming from both of you as the animalistic ritual wrapped you in completely. from time to time, jay used to lock his eyes with yours so he could see perfectly how you were feeling and he was very satisfied seeing them glazed and teary over the stimulation you were receiving. “you wanted it, you got it so take it like the slut you are” his lips kissed your neck and you moaned loudly, jay’s touch burned your skin as his hips rocked you dumbly. suddenly, in a swift move, he changed positions and your body was facing the mattress and he pounded your brim behind. “oh, my god… you’re so good at this” you stupidly commented, jay laughing at your honest words being so cock-drunk. his arm made you get up, his chest on your back and an arm choking your neck. jay’s lips marked a trace from your neck, jaw and cheeks. “all this time, i’ve been controlling myself not to do this to you. i’ve been trying not to mark you up and leave you feeling my cock buried in you for days, so you wouldn’t want any other man even around you” he whispers, sometimes stopping in between his words to kiss your skin. jay’s words sounded distant, understanding them but not at the same time. you’ve never had a lot of sexual partners throughout your whole life, but you had your experience and knew no one had ever fucked or made you feel slightly as good as jay was, not even your ex. “you’re fucking me so good i even wanna say i love you” you couldn’t even laugh at your own comment, he just chuckled. “you’ll be saying that every day after tonight, baby” he finishes off the little chat with a kiss on your cheek and continues with his pace.

you started to feel a knot in your stomach, your eyes watery and your body heat rising up, you whined out loud knowing your climax was coming. “can i please cum?” you politely asked, jay thought about it until he allowed it. “such a pretty cunt” he says feeling you clenching around him and unfortunately to you, jay’s promise of making you cum was still up and he continued with his work. changing positions several times, you screamed for mercy due to your over-sensitivity until he got to a position in which you could simply feel it all, things that you weren’t even aware you could feel, you did. “how are you doing this?” you barely whispered, your head fell onto his shoulder as your mouth suddenly shuts up, jay noticed your silence and smirks, caressing your hair softly while continuing with his chore. “oh, baby… are you all cock drunk? did i fucked you stupid? you’re so good for me, my angel” jay whispered onto your ear, feeling completely hypnotized by seeing your eyes white with tears running down them, your mouth slightly opened, cheeks and flustered and your body heavy due to its shut down. “shit, i wanna be sorry for getting you to this point but it’s so sexy seeing you so stupid” he couldn’t really know if you were actually listening or if you were in a whole different dimension, but he was getting incredibly turned on seeing you like that. jay frowned and moaned as soon as his eyes lowered and your fully exposed boobs bounced up and down, nipples hard and puffy due to the sensations and his abdomen felt hot, a knot announcing his orgasm. “give me one more, baby. one more. god, you’re gonna make me cum so nice” he asked, your moans slowly came out as your tears couldn’t stop falling and your body immediately reacted to his words, trembling on top of him and being completely taken over the feeling. your brain couldn’t even function correctly, the only thing in it was jay’s dick, how deep it was inside you and how amazing it made you feel. “in-side” you mumbled, your words almost made him cum in that exact moment but he stopped himself to do as you wanted, not caring about anything anymore. “please… please, fill me up” as soon as you said that, jay got inside you raw again and almost immediately stuffed you with his seed, marking you as his. arms wrapped around your waist and mouth pressed onto your neck, your sweaty body and messy hair and makeup were a masterpiece in which the artist was right behind it. “so stupid, so, so stupid just for some cock” he managed to speak, you turned your head slowly to watch him and kissed his lips. “love you, jongseong” you whispered with a very tired smile, collapsing to the front. jay got out of you and ran to the bathroom for a wet towel, then he came back and cleaned all of his traces off your pussy. his body carefully picked yours up and you two cuddled for the whole night, jay making you feel safe in his arms. “i’m sorry if i was too harsh on you, love. i got taken away, i didn’t mean to hurt you” his voice sounded a little sad, but you turned to face him. “i’m alright, i liked it a lot… definitely wasn’t expecting that from you, but i really enjoyed it. i’m excited to see what comes next” you playfully responded and he laughed it off, kissing your forehead as he hugged you so you two could sleep. “i’m right here, angel. every time you call my name, i’ll always answer” his reassuring words made you close your eyes, completely comfortable in between his arms and after a few minutes in silence of him caressing your hair softly, you fell asleep.

next thing you knew, your nostrils sent a message to your brain to wake up as they smelt food and after opening your eyes softly, you could see jay carrying a tray of food. “good morning, angel and happy five months being mrs. park” he smiles as he steals a kiss from your lips, when you saw him your cheeks blushed remembering what had happened the night before but he made you look up to him. “it’s okay, my baby. no need to be so shy” he winks, you also noticed how you weren’t naked anymore as you went to sleep, your body was covered by one of jays t-shirts and you also could feel your panties on, when he noticed your confused face the only thing he did was smile, and you smiled back at him. “little birdie told me your favourite breakfast was avocado-egg toast with iced coffee, so here it is” he says, eyeing you the tray. “oh, jay… you didn’t have to do this” you whispered sorta embarrassed, he nodded a no and convinced you to eat. “i’m your husband, taking care of you is my responsibility” you tried to hide your flustered face as you had a bite of the toastie, he laughed. “let’s go out today, wanna take you on a date” you agreed with him, jay telling you he loved you as he walked up to the bathroom to shower but you stopped him, hugging him tightly from behind. “happy five months being mr. loverman, darling” he turned around and wrapped his arms around your waist, carrying you. “can i have breakfast myself, please?” he whispered throwing you onto the mattress. “jay!” you laughed as he started wetly kissing your lower abdomen, slowly taking your panties off.

once you two were ready, he drove to the city to an art museum. jay stepped out of the car and opened the door from you, some people recognised you and taking photographs, but you two paid no attention to them and walked inside the building. “i wanna show you a painting i saw here the other day, because it reminds me of you” he says, holding your hand and kissing it, you smiled like a little kid. even though jay wanted to show you a specific piece, he let you peek through the whole museum analyzing every single one in there until you reached the one he wanted. “how does it remind you of me?” you asked, jay hugged you from behind and rested his head on top of yours after kissing it. “the painter says he made this painting by causality, it wasn’t planned or anything, it took him ten years to finish it because he only worked on it when he remembered. this is his best painting out of all his work, it’s valued at one million dollars and people come all the way to this museum just to see it. it’s beautiful, and what’s even more beautiful about it is how it’s something that was destined to be with him no matter what, but it took him so much time to complete and also, see how the boy has greyish hair? like me” he said excitedly, you smiled so big at how he sounded and could only turn your body to face him and take his face between your hands. “the painting’s named ‘here, there and everywhere’ like my favourite beatles song” you whisper to him, jay closes his eyes while smiling. “let’s buy that piece” he suddenly says whilst you two finally walked away, you frowned and stopped abruptly, laughing nervously. “what? no, it’s too expensive for an art piece” jay titled his head and nodded in refusal, you continued stating your firm position. “it’s too much, jay” but he didn’t care, for him, nothing was too much and you knew that, park jongseong would be the youngest billionaire of the whole country in a few months, you knew he could pay that and more if he felt like it. it wasn’t like you weren’t used to expenses, but an art piece? your father would never invest in such a thing. “i don’t see why i can’t spend my money on something that feels somewhat… personal for me. that painting’s a beautiful casualty, just like you and i are” his feet started moving again, yours with his. jay asked a worker where he could sign for a purchase, the man immediately recognizing him took you two to where this business was made and as you walked next to your husband to the director’s office, your worst nightmare came true. “you gotta be fucking kidding me” jay laughed incredulously, you sighed deeply and looked at him. “mr. park? ah! come in! i was just finishing with mr. hwang here, he’ll be presenting his new artwork next week, please, come and bring your beautiful wife! i’m sure you’ll be a big fan of his work” the director smiled innocently, jay shook his hand but never agreed to the invitation. hyunjin stood up frozen, quietly looking at you in disbelief. his face went white and his eyes glazed. “i’ll let you two finish” jay said, but mr. kim, the director, refused. “i’ll wait outside” you whispered, leaving his hand and waking away, uncomfortable. “i guess our deal is closed, mr. kim. i’ll see you in these days, thank you” hyunjin said, walking into your direction. jay tried to go too, but the director got him and he couldn’t leave now, he knew him, so he simply had to continue with the purchase.

you took a deep breath and cussed because of the horrible encounter, but hyunjin quickly reached for your arms and took you in a hug. in shock, you backed off, immediately looking everywhere to see if anyone was around. “you can’t possibly tell me you’re okay with him now and you love him. you can’t, please tell me you don’t” his eyes glistened and tried to reach for you again, but you walked away. “hyunjin, please. i understand your career is incredibly important but you chose the money over me, i couldn’t possibly find myself crying for you because you traded me and also, i do not have to tell you if i’m okay or not with my husband, nor if i love him” he shook his head and wiped his tears off. “your husband? you say it with such naturalness, god… what does he have that i don’t? why did you choose him over me?” he almost shouted, again, you looked everywhere for witnesses, fortunately finding nobody. “she chose me over you because i would never put anything over her, anything. i’m her husband, want it or not. if you ever try to touch her again, i’ll personally cut your fucking hands off so you live with the pain of losing her and your job too, so you end up with nothing” jay hugged your waist, your eyes hyunjin while hugging your husband’s arm. hyunjin looked at you in awe, hurt. “did you buy the painting?” you suddenly asked, jay nodded while giving you a tiny smirk. “it’ll be home tomorrow morning, angel” he kissed your forehead, making you blush unconsciously. hyunjin just stood there in front of you, tears running down his eyes as he simply saw you two walking away from him. after that, you never saw him ever again, but knew his artwork was all related to you and the moments he had next to you and so were his next exhibitions. you pitied him, but unfortunately had no will to help him.

after leaving the museum and going for lunch at your favorite restaurant, you and jay headed back home to keep on celebrating the day but now with his parents and your family. in the car, you opened twitter app and immediately burst into laughter. jay looked at you and clearly asked you what had happened and you showed him the post. he also laughed but took it better than you.

“i guess our parents could use one or two grandchildren” he comments, you hit his shoulder crying in laughter. “shut up, we’re incredibly young for kids” you shook your head in refusal but actually thought about it. how would it be if you two formed a family? how would jay be as a father? and who the fuck told a gossip newsletter that you two were trying?

at night, after dinner, everyone was having a cup of wine while talking about life, business and of course, the main dish: your marriage. you walked up to your father who was looking for another bottle of wine and smiled at you as he saw you. “i’m sorry i was such a brat back then… turns out i fell in love with him, and jay’s basically prince charming, father” you said shyly, mr. lee straightened his back as he smiled at you. “i would never have make you do that if i didn’t knew the guy and i knew jongseong was a good man, would take good care of my daughter. i liked him even before the situation got the way it did, he was a highly educated, great boy. i just wanted the best for my princess” he kissed your forehead. “you always knew. you always knew he liked me since we were children” you father laughed guilty, tilted his head and pretended to read the label on the wine bottle. “both james and i knew. we both wanted you to end up together but never discussed it until the situation… happened” he nodded, you looked at him with spark in your eyes and imitated his nodding. “i love jongseong, father. he’s a great man, son, husband, son-in-law, boss, everything. thank you” your father hugged you, not responding to your words and walked away from the kitchen next to you.

you sat down next to jay, who wrapped his arms around your shoulders and kept on talking with his mother-in-law about business, you kept quiet next to him suddenly hypnotized by his mien, knowing you’d won the lottery being his wife. “i love you, park jongseong” you whispered to him out of nowhere. jay shut his ears to everyone but you, turned his face to look at your face and kissed your forehead with a big, long kiss. “i love you so much” you kept on saying, jay responded the same, hugging you into his body completely. “when we first got into this i saw it as a curse, thinking i probably did something to receive such punishment but now? it’s a blessing, you are. i love you, i love everything about you, this… us” his eyes watered and he did not speak, knowing if he did he’d probably burst out crying. “i don’t think you understand how much i love you, angel. i love you so much” he finally said, fighting the urge to jump up and down all around the house knowing he finally made the relationship reciprocal. “okay, love birds. it’s getting late, we’ll get going” mrs. park said, standing up next to everyone. as you greeted them goodbye, your father came up to jay and gave him a long hug, palming his back softly. “thank you, son” his words sounding like a golden broken record on your husband’s head, he could only nod in response.

when everyone left and you two were finally alone, jay cornered you onto the wall and kissed your lips hungrily. “we fuck once and now you wanna do it every day?” he nods, shameless. “can’t help myself, your pussy’s basically made for me” he kept on kissing you and you followed him. “let’s do something, yeah? let’s go change, prepare for bed and all that, then we’ll fuck as many times as you wish. i just wanna have some peace after today” he smiles, agreeing with your wish. you two showered and you changed into one of his t-shirts, you two mimicked each other while doing your skincare routine. “i think we need more wine for this. drunk sex’s the best sex” jay comments, you roll your eyes but follow him downstairs, wanting to get a snack for yourself. on the way down, you stopped abruptly and pouted, jay turned to face you and smiled at your grin. “what is it, love?” you shook your head, in disappointment. “we’ve never taken a picture of us, together. ever. we’ve liked each other for a long time now, not just this day… and we’ve never, ever taken a picture” you sounded so hurt, jay couldn’t do anything but laugh. “okay, let’s take a picture now, baby” he says, scolding you and standing up behind you, you take your phone out with the same grin on your face and point into the mirror on the wall to take the photography. “oh my god, i’m gonna write a taylor swift cheesy caption with this” you said excitedly, looking at all of the pictures you took. “from now on, i’ll make sure we have a lot more photos of us” he reassures, kissing your forehead.

you loved park jongseong. you loved him so much that you were now one of those girls who saw something at a store and said: oh, my boyfriend would love this. one of those girls who are present in the conversation and someone suddenly says something that makes you say: oh, like my boyfriend, he does that too. one of those girls who are hanging out with their friends and out of nowhere say: i miss my boyfriend. but you know what was better? that he’s your husband. you weren’t scared of anything, you had something more than further from a formal boyfriend and girlfriend relationship; you were married. “i love you, jay. i don’t care if i say it three times in every sentence. i love you” you say after returning to your senses. jongseong turns to face you and laughs, getting you on top of the kitchen isle to be perfectly face to face. “believe me, i love you more” he says as he starts kissing you, but your phone starts interrupting your make out session by the sound of notifications coming up to it. “what is it?” he asks annoyed. “i think they’re going feral for our photo” you answer showing him your phone. “i don’t care, just let me fuck you, please” he begged, you laughed at him and grabbed his face to attack his lips.

so, yes, rich people’s down to do anything in order to not lose their fortune, but sometimes that’s for the better. like you two.

[btsreadss]

tension theory/friction principle bonus chapter 2

set right after the events of friction principle

Jake's pacing again. Back and forth across Heeseung's living room, socked feet on hardwood, hands slicing the air as he pleads his case for the third time in ten minutes. "I'm telling you, bro, it'll be fun. Beach. Booze. You, me, Sunghoon, Y/N—and Chaewon. You haven't met her yet, but she's cool. Funny. Smart. Kinda your type, actually."

Heeseung doesn't look up from the couch, arm draped over his eyes. "My type is women who don't try to sleep with other guys while I'm in the next room, remember?"

Jake winces. "Okay, yeah, that was...rough. But this is a clean slate. Fresh air, a whole new country. Would you be more convinced if I told you Chaewon was hot?"

Heeseung shifts, finally lifting his arm and narrowing his eyes at Jake. "Does your girlfriend know you're out here calling her friend hot?"

Jake pauses for a beat—just long enough to look mildly offended. "She told me to tell you that!"

Heeseung snorts despite himself.

"She said, and I quote, 'Tell Hee that Chaewon is super hot and really sweet and might help him stop being a mopey little bitch.' Her words, not mine."

Heeseung finally sits up, rubbing his face. "You're unbelievable."

"But are you coming?"

Heeseung doesn't answer right away. Jake stands still, watching him closely, then adds quieter, "You deserve a break. From all of it."

There's a pause. Then Heeseung exhales slowly. "Fine. But if this girl's weird or annoying, I'm blaming you."

Jake grins, victorious. "Deal. And hey—she's nothing like Yunjin. I swear."

Heeseung doesn't really know what he expected, stepping off the plane. Not much. Just some sun, maybe some sleep, and a temporary reprieve from the mess he left back home. Jake had pitched it hard—new country, fresh air—but Heeseung's not naive enough to believe in quick fixes anymore.

Still, the ocean air is cleaner than the thoughts that usually haunt him, and your bright smile when you spot him in the villa entryway? He hates how much it helps.

"Hee!" you call, jogging over in a linen dress, wearing sandals already. You look stupidly happy. Carefree. And for once, that doesn't annoy him, not that he really did before. But if Yunjin was annoyed with you then so was he back then?.

You grab his wrist and tug him through the airy room, chattering about bedroom assignments and welcome drinks, and then, too casually, you say, "Chaewon! Come meet Heeseung!"

The girl perched on the edge of the sofa straightens as they approach. She's dressed simple—denim shorts, a white tank top, sunglasses perched in her hair, but there's an ease to her posture, a warmth in her smile that immediately puts him off balance.

"Hi," she says, holding out a hand. "I've heard a lot about you." Heeseung glances at you, suspicious, but you’re already pretending to be preoccupied with the fruit platter. "Hopefully good things," he mutters, shaking her hand.

You shoot him a very obvious thumbs up over her shoulder before disappearing up the stairs with a grin.

Of course.

Heeseung clears his throat and drops onto the armchair beside her. "So...Chaewon, right?"

She nods, biting back a smile.

"I'm guessing Jake threatened you into coming on this trip?"

"Actually," she says, tilting her head, "Y/N bribed me with promises of beach sunset photos, bottomless sangria, and the chance to see you shirtless."

He chokes. Literally.

She laughs and reaches for a slice of melon. "Relax, I'm joking."

He coughs once more for good measure, dragging a hand over his face. "God, you're worse than her."

"Not really," Chaewon says. "I think Sunghoon and Jake bring out a whole different side to her you haven’t even seen."

And somehow, from there, the conversation just works. They talk about everything and nothing. Favorite music, the last book she gave up on, the dumbest argument she's ever had with her brother. She doesn't bring up Yunjin, even though he’s sure she knows about what happened by now. She doesn't tiptoe around him like he's fragile. And when she laughs, it's always with him, never at him.

It's strange.

Heeseung came here with his guard up. He didn't expect to enjoy himself, didn't think he had it in him anymore. But sitting beside this stranger with the soft voice and sharp wit, he starts to think maybe Jake was right. Maybe this trip isn't just a distraction and if he lets it, it could actually be something new.

The fire crackles in front of them, smoke drifting up into the ink-dark sky. Waves crash steadily in the distance, a constant hush beneath the chatter and laughter. The sand is cool under his feet, and there's a cold beer sweating in his hand, half-forgotten because Chaewon just said something that made him laugh so hard his abs hurt.

She's leaned in close, whispering some dumb inside joke they've crafted over the past forty-eight hours, and he can't stop smiling. It's been like this the whole trip—light, easy, better than anything he expected. He glances around the circle of beach chairs and towels, stomach warm from more than the alcohol.

Sunghoon's poking at the fire with a stick, his expression relaxed. You're curled up in Jake's lap nearby, his arms around you and your cheeks flushed from laughing too hard. You catch Heeseung's eye across the flames and beam at him. Jake leans in and says something that makes you both snort, and Heeseung knows that look—you're plotting and sure enough, Jake perks up. "Let's play something."

Sunghoon groans immediately. "Really? We're twenty-two."

You twist around in Jake's arms and grin. "So? Might be fun. We'll keep it chill."

Jake raises his beer. "Drinking game? Truth or dare?”

"God," Heeseung mutters, but he's smiling. He'd complain, but the way Chaewon's eyes sparkle under the firelight when she says "Oooh, I'm in" has him nodding before he can think better of it.

You sit up straighter and point directly at him. "Heeseung. Truth or dare?"

He raises an eyebrow, feigning hesitation.

"Don't be boring," Jake calls from behind you.

Heeseung takes a slow sip of his beer, then shrugs. "Truth."

You lean forward, eyes gleaming. "Do you miss her?" you ask, softer this time.

And everyone goes quiet.

Chaewon glances at him, just barely, but she doesn't move away. Doesn't flinch. Just waits with the rest. Heeseung could lie. Say he doesn't or that he's over it.

But the words stick in his throat, heavy and dry. He looks at you with your knowing expression, the way Jake tightens his arms around your waist, and something about the quiet between everyone makes him answer honestly. "I think I miss who I thought she was," he says. "But I don't miss how I felt with her. Not anymore."

You nod slowly and Chaewon nudges his knee with hers. "Your turn."

He looks at her, really looks, and the tension unwinds in his chest. He's not dreading going back because of what happened.  He's dreading it because this peace, this laughter and warmth feels dangerously close to something he never thought he'd get again.

The circle loosens with his answer, everyone easing back into the comfort of the firelight and their drinks.

He turns toward Sunghoon, who's lounging back on a chair, sipping something strong out of a plastic cup.

"Alright, Sunghoon," Heeseung says, eyes narrowing playfully. "Truth or dare?"

Sunghoon sighs, but there's a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Truth."

Heeseung doesn't miss a beat. "When it's the three of you..." He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. "Who do you like starting with? Jake or Y/N?"

You sit up straighter, eyes going wide. "Heeseung!"

Sunghoon just blinks slowly, like he's thinking about it. You can tell he's tipsy, his gaze a little hazy, but still calculating. Then he smiles. "Y/n," he says, looking at you through the fire. "It's fun watching her get all worked up from just a little touch. She’s so easy to unravel."

You let out a soft, stunned laugh, covering your mouth. Jake groans behind you, tossing his head back dramatically. "Oh my god, Hoon."

Sunghoon's grin widens, taking another sip. "It's true. She melts. It's cute."

You give Jake a look over your shoulder, and he grins back at you, whispering something against your temple that makes you squirm in his lap. And from the way his fingers are already creeping along your waist and Sunghoon's looking far too pleased with himself, Heeseung thinks he’s way more interested in this game now.

Sunghoon takes another sip of his drink, eyes glinting with mischief in the firelight. "My turn," he hums, scanning the circle before zeroing in on Chaewon. "You." She stiffens slightly, eyebrows raising as she narrows her eyes. "Me?"

"Truth or dare?"

Chaewon, to her credit, doesn't flinch. She lifts her chin. "Dare."

Sunghoon's grin spreads slow and sharp—more amused than cruel, but clearly dangerous in that 'older brother who stirs the pot just because he can' kind of way. "I dare you," he says, dragging the words out, "to sit in Heeseung's lap for the next round. Until it's your turn again."

Heeseung blinks, caught off guard. "Wait, what—"

"You heard me," Sunghoon shrugs. "I'm just trying to join my boyfriend and girlfriend in their little cupid scheme."

You let out a bark of laughter, covering your mouth. Jake smiles, clearly loving this way too much.

Chaewon turns to Heeseung, and he's suddenly far too still, barely managing to lift his palms like I didn't plan this, I swear.

She pauses for dramatic effect then shrugs once and gets up on her knees, stepping toward him. "I've had worse dares," she says breezily.

And then she's settling herself delicately in his lap, adjusting her weight until she's comfortable, her legs folded neatly across his. Heeseung swallows hard, eyes darting to yours like help. He’s trying desperately not to look at where Chaewon's thigh is pressed flush against his. Her hair brushes his jaw when she turns toward the circle again, totally casual.

"Okay," she says coolly, lifting her drink. "Let's keep it moving."

And for a second, Heeseung looks like he might die, but then she leans back just slightly, her shoulder against his chest, and he exhales.

"My turn," she says, and her gaze cuts straight to you. You raise your brows, already bracing yourself. "Oh no."

She tilts her head innocently. "Truth or dare?"

You hum in thought, swirling the drink in your cup before settling back against Jake's chest. "Truth."

Chaewon's smile widens, she'd clearly hoped for that answer. "Alright," she says, voice light, but her eyes are gleaming with mischief. "Whose dick is bigger—Jake's or Sunghoon's?"

You just gape at her, somewhere between scandalized and impressed. "Oh my god," you wheeze, covering your face for a second before peeking at her through your fingers. "Do you want to see for yourself?"

She gasps in fake offense, then starts laughing all over again. Jake wraps his arms a little tighter around your waist, murmuring, "Answer carefully."

Sunghoon leans forward with a mock-serious expression. "There’s no wrong answer if she’s offering."

You roll your eyes, dramatic and exaggerated. "You guys," you sigh, grinning as you take another sip. "They're basically the same."

"Oh come on," Chaewon protests. "That's such a cop-out."

"No, I'm serious," you insist, nodding solemnly. "They’ve measured."

Jake groans, burying his face in your shoulder, while Sunghoon just grins, shaking his head like he can't even be mad.

It’s your turn now. You shift a little in Jake's lap, turning just enough to face him, a lazy smile curling your lips. His hands tighten around your waist automatically, eyes narrowing like he knows what's coming.

"Truth or dare, Jaeyun?"

He eyes you warily. "Truth."

Heeseung groans. "Oh my god, can someone pick dare?"

You ignore him. Your gaze is locked on Jake, voice syrupy sweet. "Do you prefer me more dominant or submissive?"

Jake immediately sputters, half-coughing into his drink, ears turning a soft pink. "What—" He clears his throat, eyes flickering to Sunghoon who's just watching him with raised brows, unhelpfully amused. "You're really doing this in public?"

You just tilt your head, smile widening. “This is barely public baby.”

Jake drags a hand over his face, but his answer is honest. "Dominant," he admits, low and a little hoarse. "You know that."

"Good boy," you murmur and he groans but now it's his turn. He peeks up and his eyes flick toward Chaewon—still in Heeseung's lap like she belongs there, comfortably sipping her drink, grinning.

"You," Jake says, pointing. "Truth or dare?"

Chaewon raises both brows. "Truth."

He nods like he expected it. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"Yes," she replies, no hesitation. "More than once."

You and Jake share a quick, impressed glance, but before Jake can follow up, Sunghoon cuts in, a smug look on his face. "Ever thought about kissing her?" he asks, jerking his chin toward you.

The fire crackles, but it feels too quiet now. Chaewon's still smiling, but it's changed, still sly and amused. She looks you up and down slowly before her gaze settles on your face. "Who hasn't?" she says simply.

You blink and then burst out laughing, cheeks warm. "I'm flattered, really."

Chaewon leans forward again, still in Heeseung's lap like she's completely forgotten she has her own chair and her turn has come again now.

"Sunghoon," she asks, "truth or dare?"

He doesn't even hesitate. "Dare."

She smiles. "Three-way kiss. You, Jake, and her." She looks towards you. Jake laughs, setting his drink down. "You make it sound like that's hard for him."

You smile at Sunghoon already rising from his seat, languid and confident. Jake shifts forward and you both meet him halfway, leaning in. It starts with Sunghoon kissing you, slow and teasing, then Jake's lips press to yours just as Sunghoon kisses him too—seamless, practiced, because this isn't the first time and won't be the last.

Now it's Sunghoon’s turn again. He looks around deliberately before pointing at Chaewon. "Truth or dare."

She tilts her head in mock thought. "Dare."

His smile curves up, all slow wickedness. "Okay then," he drawls, "I dare you to kiss my girlfriend."

Jake hums lowly behind you, and you glance over your shoulder, brows raised, but you're smiling too. Chaewon looks at you, not at all flustered, just intrigued. "Is this you giving me permission or are you trying to test something?" she teases, but she's already standing.

Sunghoon shrugs, leaning back. "Does it matter?"

Chaewon moves toward you slowly, one brow raised like she's giving you a moment to say no. But you don't, in fact you meet her halfway.

Her lips are soft, more playful than anything, and when she pulls back, you're both laughing a little, breathless from the sheer absurdity of it all, from the thrill. You're breathless too, blinking at her before both of you burst into giggles like you can't believe what just happened.

But the second you turn and settle back into Jake's lap, you feel it. Jake’s hardened cock, pressing up under you. He exhales shakily, his fingers tightening on your waist.

Chaewon clearly feels the same thing, because she freezes slightly in Heeseung's lap, then lets out a small surprised noise—more amused than shocked. Heeseung shifts beneath her, trying to play it off, but his ears are red.

Sunghoon notices it all and he groans, tilting his head back toward the stars like he's suffering. "Okay, not to kill the vibe, but are Heeseung and Chaewon gonna kiss already, or are we gonna keep playing this middle school game until someone has to dare them?"

Jake chokes out a laugh behind you. Sunghoon waves a hand lazily toward them. "Heeseung's boner is probably suffocating by now."

You giggle uncontrollably, half turning to look at them. Chaewon raises a brow, amused, while Heeseung mutters something under his breath and tips his beer bottle to his lips like it might save him from the situation.

Sunghoon sighs again, dramatically, like he's shouldering the burden of everyone's pent-up tension. "This game is doing too much and not enough at the same time."

The game fizzles out not long after. Everyone's a little too buzzed, too tangled up in the energy pulsing beneath the surface. Bottles are half-empty in the sand, and laughter fades into background noise as the fire crackles lazily. Sunghoon gets up with a stretch and a groan. "I'm gonna head in," he says, brushing sand off his hands.

"No one asked you to leave," Jake calls after him, but Sunghoon's already trudging toward the beach house, mumbling about how no one ever appreciates his sacrifices.

Chaewon shifts in Heeseung's lap, the light painting her in amber. She leans closer to him, her fingers brushing his jaw and he doesn't flinch, doesn't overthink it. His hand moves to her waist, tentative at first, then firm, like he's finally stopped resisting.

And then they're kissing, quietly, intimately. No show, no dare, no commentary. Just them, lost in their own moment.

You and Jake sit back in the beach chair, watching like creeps. "Should we be watching this?" you whisper, eyebrows raised but voice too entertained to be serious.

Jake doesn't look away. "I mean...it's kind of cute."

You lean your head on his shoulder, both of you quiet now, observing from the flickering glow of the fire as Heeseung and Chaewon melt into each other. There's something sweet about it. Gentle.

Jake kisses your temple. "Think this means we'll get invited to their wedding?" He asks you as he helps you stand up. You giggle, squeezing his hand. "Only if you don't scare her off first." You tell him as he guides you off the sand.

You're standing in front of the bathroom mirror, fresh from the shower, robe warm around your shoulders, dabbing serum into your cheeks when you hear it.

A muffled whimper. Faint and distant. You freeze, fingers paused mid-pat.

Then another, louder this time. You blink at your reflection, brows drawn together. Was that...?

"Hey," Jake hisses as he swings the bathroom door open without knocking, eyes wild with mischief. "You hear that?"

You turn, wide-eyed. "Wait, you heard it too?"

Jake nods like a cartoon villain mid-scheme. "You think what I'm thinking?"

You squint. "Could it be them?"

He doesn't even answer. Just grabs your hand and pulls you with him like you're both on a covert spy mission. You're tiptoeing through the villa, trying not to laugh as you both make your way down the hallway, past the kitchen, and toward the bedrooms. The moans are louder now—unmistakable, breathy, high-pitched.

Chaewon.

You slap a hand over your mouth as Jake quietly loses his mind next to you, the two of you grinning like idiots. Her voice, breathless and needy, "God, right there—don't stop—don't stop—"

You slap your hand over your mouth again, nearly snorting with shock.

Then Heeseung responds, his voice low and hoarse, "You're so fucking tight—fuck—you feel insane."

You nearly choke on your laughter, burying your face in Jake's hoodie while he squeezes your hand in absolute glee. It's obscene, filthy, and you're both entirely too happy about it. "She's louder than I expected," Jake whispers.

You giggle. "Heeseung's filthier than I expected."

You're both crouched near the cracked door now, barely breathing from how hard you're trying not to laugh—when suddenly a voice appears behind you, low and cool, "You two get off on this or something?"

You both jump like you've been electrocuted.

Jake spins around. You nearly stumble back.

Sunghoon stands behind you, wearing low-slung sweats and a damp tank, brow arched, hair still wet from a recent shower. You blink up at him, guilt written all over your face.

"We weren't—" Jake starts. "—Spying," you say. "We were...just checking."

Sunghoon steps closer, expression unreadable and then dryly asks, "Did you confirm enough?"

You grin, tucking into Jake's side as the moaning from Heeseung's room hits another crescendo. You can't tell if Chaewon's laughing or crying with pleasure now.

Jake winces. "Jesus."

Sunghoon sighs and shakes his head, muttering, "Unbelievable," as he comes closer to you, making you straighten and turn, already smiling, already melting into him. His arms slide around your waist instantly, pulling you close until your nose nearly brushes his collarbone.

"Really" he murmurs, voice low and amused, eyes flicking toward the door where the sounds are still spilling out. "You two are standing out here like perverts"

"They're being loud," you defend softly, fingers slipping up into his hair, a little dazed from the heat of him.

Sunghoon tilts his head. "Hot?"

You nod, cheeks flushing. He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over your cheek as he whispers, "Not as hot as you."

Your knees go weak.

Then, his hand slips around the back of your neck, thumb ghosting just beneath your ear. "Is your plug still in, baby?"

Your breath hitches audibly, and you nod again, eyes wide. He exhales slowly, smile tugging at the corner of his lips, there’s something almost devout in the way he looks at you. Then he tips his head toward the guest bedroom behind him, his mouth curling into a knowing smile. "Yeah?"

You nod again, smaller this time, breath hitching as his hands grip tighter. Without another word, he lifts you and starts walking. Jake grins, trailing after you both, already tugging off his shirt. "Fuck yeah," he says with a laugh, gaze flicking to the cracked door of Heeseung's room.

════════════════════════════

• a/n: i had to give heeseung a semblance of a happy ending 😭 i just had too!

[btsreadss]

enhypen's masterlist

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა reminder!

my stories are work of fiction and is not associated with enhypen or its members in real life. the characters, events, and settings in this story are fictional and do not reflect the real personalities, actions, or experiences of the people mentioned. please remember to separate fiction from reality

nsfw content — minors do not interact! most of my stories contains mature content and is intended for adult audiences only. If you are underage, please do not read or interact with my work.

i appreciate feedback and comments, as they help me grow as a writer! however, please do not translate, copy, or repost my stories on any other platform. these works belong to me, and unauthorized distribution is not allowed.

also, i’m still figuring out how to use tumblr, so please bear with me! thank you for your support!

happy reading <3

LEE HEESEUNG

hee hard hours m.list

WAS IT CASUAL ft. kim sunoo

one shot, fubu 12.3K

Let’s play “Casual” by Chappell Roan. How far can you sink for a guy who only sees you as a bed warmer? Somewhere between the silences, you start to wonder. If it’s just casual, why does it feel so real? And if it means nothing, why does it hurt so much?

PARK JONGSEONG

jay hard hours m.list

KISS ME

the purge au! 21.8k

You hate the Purge. You hate the monster they create, the cruelty, and the way it's broken you down year after year. You hate the rich most of all—the people who don't have to fight to survive. People like Park Jongseong. And now, somehow, he's sitting next to you. The boy who's always smiling, always comfortable, as if the world hasn't burned down around him. The boy who lives in safety, behind barricades his father's company builds, while you've spent years starving, hiding, and praying. Jongseong keeps smiling at you, oblivious to the weight of your hatred. He doesn't care about you, not really. To him, life is simple. And maybe that's why you can't stand him. Because while he laughs, you're trying to figure out how to make sure people like him never smile again.

TASTE OF INDULGENCE ft. sim jaeyun

series, eventual poly relationship

Sex should've been the most electrifying experience. But for you, no matter how much you indulge, it's always the same—the burning, the discomfort, the frustration of never getting there. So when another couple invites you into their bed, you wonder—Will indulgence finally taste the way it should?

MY BOYFRIEND'S IN A BAND

oneshot, fake dating au! 14.7K

One second, you were telling a little lie to impress the cheerleaders, and the next, the whole school thought you were dating Park Jongseong—the cold, untouchable, and ridiculously hot guitarist. What started as a desperate move to boost your reputation took a wild turn when Jay decided to go along with it. Now, you’re caught up in nonstop gossip, awkward moments, and a fake relationship that feels a little too real—especially with Jay showing a surprisingly sweet side that no one, including you, saw coming.

LIFE OF PARASITES — RECENT FIC

oneshot, sci-fi/bio-thriller, body horror! 23.1K

Seven years ago, a parasite fell from the sky and rewrote the boundaries of biology, blurring the line between host and invader. Park Jongseong, now exists in the in-between, neither fully human nor entirely parasite, a hybrid organism shaped by adaptation and survival. Hunted by those who fear what they cannot categorize, he searches for meaning in the world—and finds it in you.

BF! JAY AND YOUR TITS

scenario, 500 words

nothing filthy, just bf jay and his obsession on your tits

SIM JAEYUN

jake hard hours m.list

TASTE OF INDULGENCE ft. park jongseong

series, eventual poly relationship

Sex should've been the most electrifying experience. But for you, no matter how much you indulge, it's always the same—the burning, the discomfort, the frustration of never getting there. So when another couple invites you into their bed, you wonder—Will indulgence finally taste the way it should?

THE FALL OF A MAN

one shot, sacrilegious content! 16.7k

You were taught that virtue was a woman’s greatest strength, that temptation was a test of will, that desire was the serpent’s whisper leading you astray. But when temptation comes in the form of Sim Jaeyun—holy, untouchable, the very image of devotion—your faith begins to waver.

[btsreadss]

°•E n h y p e n M a s t e r l i s t•°

Aphinaaa™💌- I won't be making a version for Jungwon and Sunoo just because I don't really have a lot of recs for them but I will reblog any Fic about them I like ^_^!

°•Lee Heeseung•°

💌•Letter I

💌•Letter II

💌•Letter III

°•Park Jongseong•°

💌•Letter I

💌•Letter II

°•Sim Jaeyun•°

💌•Letter I

💌•Letter II

°•Park Sunghoon•°

💌•Letter I

💌•Letter II

°•Multi-Member •°

💌•Letter I

💌•Letter II

All credit for the works to the writers, so I'll tag in all the recs.

Dividers: @anitalenia

[btsreadss]

Forbidden Fever- Lee Heeseung

pairing: lee heeseung x f!reader genre: smut, angst, romance, best friend’s cousin au warnings: explicit content, nsfw, forbidden romance, strong language, eventual unprotected sex (wrap it up irl!), slight exhibitionism, slow-burn tension, reader is bold af word count: 8.5k a/n: y’all, this one’s for the heeseung stans like me who live for the tension, the yearning, and the absolute wreckage of a forbidden crush. I poured my soul into this, so pls enjoy with me in the reblogs if u feel it.

You’ve always been the quiet one, the girl who fades into the background with a shy smile and a nervous laugh. It’s not that you don’t want to shine—you just never know how to make yourself loud, how to claim space the way others do so effortlessly.

But when it comes to Lee Heeseung, Lia’s older cousin and the boy who’s been stealing your breath for four summers now, you’re anything but subtle in your heart. Your crush on him is a wildfire, burning quiet but fierce, and no matter how hard you try to hide it, it’s like he can feel the heat every time you’re in the same room.

It all started when you were eighteen, dragged by Lia to her family’s annual summer bash at their stupidly gorgeous beachside mansion. Think white walls, glass doors opening to ocean views, the kind of place that smells like sea salt and expensive perfume.

You were out of place, clutching a soda can like a lifeline, your sundress feeling too frilly, too you in a crowd of Lia’s loud, confident relatives.

Lia—your best friend since you were six, trading Pokémon cards and secrets under blankets—was your saving grace, all wild curls and brighter-than-the-sun energy. She thrived in chaos, weaving through the party like she owned it, while you trailed behind, heart pounding every time someone new said hi.

Then you saw him. Heeseung. He was leaning against a deck railing, a glass of lemonade in hand, looking like he’d stepped out of a dream you didn’t know you were having. His dark hair caught the sunset’s glow, falling in soft waves over his forehead, and his eyes—deep, hazel, and impossibly warm—held a spark that made your chest ache. His jawline was sharp enough to cut through your thoughts, his lips always on the edge of a smile, like he knew something you didn’t. He was twenty-one, a music trainee with a voice that could break hearts, and he carried himself with this easy, untouchable charm that made you feel small and huge all at once.

Lia, sharp as ever, caught you staring. “Oh no, Y/N,” she whispered, grabbing your elbow with a grin. “Not Heeseung. My cousin? You’re doomed.”

You flushed, ducking your head, but you couldn’t stop looking. When she introduced you, your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Hi, I’m Y/N,” you managed, eyes fixed on the wooden deck because meeting his gaze felt like staring into the sun.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like a song you’d replay on loop. “Lia’s told me about you. You’re the one who keeps her out of trouble, right?”

You laughed, nervous and too loud, and Lia snorted, rolling her eyes. “More like she’s the one who needs saving,” she teased, nudging you. Heeseung’s smile widened, and you felt it—like a hook in your chest, tugging you toward him. That was it. One look, one sentence, and you were gone.

From then on, Heeseung was your secret obsession. Every summer, every holiday dinner, every time Lia dragged you to her family’s events, you went, knowing he’d be there.

You weren’t bold, not like Lia, who could charm a room with a laugh. You were the girl who lingered in corners, who blushed when eyes met hers, who overthought every word before it left her lips.

But with Heeseung, you felt everything louder—every glance, every accidental brush of his hand, every time his laugh filled the room. You’d catch yourself staring at his hands as he played the grandpiano in the mansion, or at the way his shoulders moved when he tossed a volleyball on the beach.

And Lia? She saw it all.

“You’re so whipped,” she’d say, sprawled on your dorm bed after a long day, tossing a pillow at you. “Heeseung’s got you wrapped around his finger, and he doesn’t even know it.”

“Shut up,” you’d mumble, burying your face in your hands, but you couldn’t deny it. You were whipped. You’d spend hours replaying the smallest moments—how he’d held the door for you at a family barbecue, his fingers grazing your back for a split second; how he’d asked you what book you were reading, his head tilted like he actually cared.

You’d lie awake at night, imagining what it’d be like his. His girlfriend. How it would feel to kiss him, to feel his voice vibrate against your skin, to know him the way you wanted to.

The summer you were nineteen, Lia’s family rented a cabin in the mountains, and you got a front-row seat to your own personal torment. Heeseung was everywhere—laughing with his cousins, helping with dishes in the kitchen, his voice echoing through the wooden halls as he sang to himself.

You tried to play it cool, but your shyness betrayed you. You’d fumble your words when he talked to you, your cheeks burning when he sat too close during movie nights, his knee brushing yours on the couch.

One evening, you were reading on the porch, curled up with a blanket, when he sat beside you, holding a mug of hot chocolate.

“Quiet out here,” he said, his voice soft, like he didn’t want to break the spell of the night. “You always hide away like this?”

“I’m not hiding,” you said, too quickly, your heart racing. “Just… like the quiet.”

He smiled, slow and warm, and you felt it in your bones. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he said, and you wanted to sink through the floor. Instead, you ducked your head, muttering something about the book in your lap, and he let it go, but not before his eyes lingered, like he was trying to figure you out.

Lia was relentless after that. “He so knows you’re into him,” she said, painting her nails while you died inside. “He’s teasing you, Y/N. It’s, like, his favorite hobby now.”

“He’s not,” you protested, but you weren’t so sure. Heeseung had this way of looking at you—intense, almost deliberate—that made you wonder if he could see the chaos in your head.

But you were too shy to act on it, too afraid of what might happen if you crossed that line with Lia’s cousin. So you kept it locked away, letting it burn you up from the inside.

By twenty, the tension was a living thing. Lia’s family planned another beach house trip, and you went, your heart a tangled mess of hope and fear. You weren’t the bold type, but you weren’t invisible either—you’d wear your favorite sundresses, let your hair fall loose, laugh a little louder when you knew he was watching.

Heeseung noticed. You’d catch him staring across the pool, his eyes dark and unreadable, or he’d find excuses to talk to you, asking about your classes, your music taste, your life. Every conversation felt like a tightrope, your shyness warring with the part of you that wanted to lean into him, to close the distance.

One night, you were on the beach, the party raging behind you, the air cool against your skin. You’d slipped away to breathe, the waves crashing softly at your feet. Heeseung followed, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake. He stood beside you, hands in his pockets, staring out at the ocean.

“You’re always running off,” he said, his voice low, almost swallowed by the waves. “What’s got you so spooked?”

You hugged your arms, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not spooked,” you said, but your voice shook, betraying you. “Just… needed air.”

He turned, his gaze heavy on you. “You sure it’s not me?” he asked, half-teasing, half-something else. “You get all quiet when I’m around.”

Your face burned, and you wanted to disappear, but you forced yourself to look at him. “Maybe you’re just… intimidating,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

He laughed, soft and warm, stepping closer. “Me? Intimidating? Nah, Y/N. You’re the one who’s hard to read.” His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more, might bridge the gap you were both dancing around.

But he just smiled, stepping back, leaving you with a racing heart and a thousand unsaid words.

Lia was waiting when you got back to the house, her smirk sharp enough to cut. “You’re blushing,” she said, poking your cheek. “What did Heeseung do now?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, swatting her hand away, but she just laughed, flopping onto the couch.

“You’re hopeless,” she said, but there was affection in her voice. “He’s my cousin, Y/N, but I’m not blind. He looks at you like… I don’t even know. Like you’re a puzzle he wants to solve.”

“Stop,” you said, hiding your face, but her words stuck with you, feeding the fire that wouldn’t let you go.

Now, at twenty-one, you’re back at the beach house for another summer, and you’re done hiding. You’re still shy, still prone to blushing under his gaze, but you’re tired of letting fear hold you back. Lia’s been teasing you all week, dropping hints to Heeseung when she thinks you’re not listening, and you’ve caught him watching you more than ever—his eyes lingering on your lips, your bare shoulders, the way you move when you think no one’s looking.

Tonight, with the house buzzing with friends, music, and the humid pulse of summer, you’re ready to let the tension snap. You’re not bold, not really, but you’re ready to be brave, to let Heeseung see the girl who’s been burning for him all these years.

The beach house is alive tonight, a pulsing heartbeat of music, laughter, and the clink of soju bottles on the glass coffee table. The air is heavy with the scent of salt from the open windows and the faint tang of alcohol, the kind of summer night that feels like it could swallow you whole. You’re sprawled on the couch, your bare legs tucked under you, a red solo cup cradled in your hands.

The room is crowded—Lia’s friends, some of her cousins, a few randoms who tagged along for the vibe—all sprawled across the living room, the floor littered with empty bottles and snack wrappers. The energy is chaotic, electric, and you’re trying to keep up, but your heart’s been a mess since you locked eyes with Heeseung an hour ago.

He’s across the room now, leaning against the wall, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he laughs at something one of his cousins says.

He’s wearing a black tank top that shows off his lean arms, the kind of casual that shouldn’t look that good but does, like he’s mocking the universe for making him so untouchable.

His eyes flicker to you every now and then, quick but deliberate, and each time, your stomach flips like you’re eighteen again, crushing on a boy you can’t have.

Lia’s beside you, her curls bouncing as she leans forward, her grin sharp and dangerous. She’s been watching you watch him all night, and you know she’s about to make your life hell.

“Truth or dare, Y/N?” Lia asks, her voice loud enough to cut through the chatter. The room quiets, heads turning, and you feel the weight of everyone’s attention like a spotlight.

Your cheeks heat up, and you curse yourself for being so easy to read. Lia’s got that glint in her eye, the one that says she’s about to push you right into the deep end.

You swallow, trying to play it cool despite the nervous flutter in your chest. “Dare,” you say, your voice steadier than you feel. You’re shy, always have been, but you’re not about to let Lia make you squirm in front of him. Not tonight. You’ve spent years pining, years letting Heeseung’s presence turn you into a blushing, stuttering mess. Tonight, you’re done hiding.

Lia’s grin widens, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head. “Oh, you’re bold tonight, huh?” she teases, tapping her chin like she’s plotting world domination.

The others hoot and laugh, egging her on. Heeseung’s watching now, his head tilted, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

“Alright, Y/N,” Lia says, leaning closer, her voice dripping with mischief. “I dare you to… spend fifteen minutes alone with Heeseung in the upstairs guest room.”

The room erupts—whistles, gasps, a few “oh shits” from Lia’s rowdier friends. Your heart stops, then kicks into overdrive, pounding so hard you’re sure everyone can hear it.

You glance at Heeseung, and he’s still leaning against the wall, but his posture’s shifted, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question: You in?

“Y/N’s gonna combust,” one of Lia’s cousins calls out, and everyone laughs, but you barely hear them.

Your face is burning, but you force a smile, trying to channel some of the confidence you wish you had.

“Fine,” you say, standing up, brushing imaginary lint off your shorts. “Let’s go, Heeseung.”

The room loses it, whooping and cheering like you’ve just agreed to fight a dragon.

Lia’s practically cackling, her eyes glinting with victory. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she yells as Heeseung pushes off the wall, his stride easy but purposeful as he heads toward the stairs.

You follow, your heart in your throat, the weight of everyone’s eyes on your back. You’re shy, yeah, but you’re not backing down. Not when Heeseung’s looking at you like that, like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have.

The stairs creak under your feet, the noise of the party fading as you climb higher. The hallway is dim, lit only by a single wall sconce, and the air feels cooler, quieter, like you’re stepping into a different world.

Heeseung leads the way, pushing open the door to the guest room with a casual flick of his wrist. You step inside, and he closes the door behind you, the soft click echoing like a gunshot in the silence.

The room is small, intimate, with moonlight streaming through the balcony doors, casting silver patterns on the hardwood floor.

The bed is unmade, sheets rumpled, and there’s a faint scent of lavender from an air freshener somewhere. You stand there, arms crossed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is, how alone you are. Your shyness creeps in, making your throat tight, but you swallow it down, meeting his gaze.

“So,” Heeseung says, his voice low, teasing, like he’s savoring every second of this. He steps closer, and you have to tilt your head back to look at him, his height making you feel small in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. “Lia’s having fun with this, huh?”

You laugh, but it’s nervous, breathy. “She’s evil,” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your fingers trembling slightly. “She knows… you know. About me.” You wince as soon as the words slip out, wishing you could take them back. Too much, too soon.

Heeseung’s eyebrow quirks, but his smile is soft, not mocking. “Oh, I know,” he says, and your stomach drops. “She’s been dropping hints for years, Y/N. Not exactly subtle.” He takes another step, close enough now that you can smell his perfume—something warm and spicy that makes your head spin. “But you’re not subtle either. The way you look at me? It’s hard to miss.”

Your face burns, and you look away, your shyness winning for a moment. “I’m not—I mean, I don’t mean to—” you stammer, but he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, stepping even closer until there’s barely a foot between you.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice dropping lower, softer, like a secret. “Don’t apologize. I like it.” His eyes are on you, intense, searching, and you feel like you’re unraveling under them. “You’ve been driving me crazy for years, you know that? Every summer, every damn time you show up in those little dresses, laughing with Lia, looking at me like you’re scared but you want me anyway.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “You… noticed?” you manage, your voice small, like you’re afraid the words will break the spell.

He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that sends shivers down your spine. “Noticed? Y/N, you’re all I see.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm, light but electric, and you feel it everywhere—your skin, your bones, your racing pulse. “You think I don’t catch you staring? The way you blush when I get too close? It’s fucking adorable.”

You’re dying, you’re sure of it, your heart about to give out under the weight of his words. You’ve spent years hiding, thinking you were invisible, but he’s been watching you just as closely, and the realization makes you dizzy. “I didn’t think you… I mean, you’re you,” you say, stumbling over the words. “You’re Lia’s cousin, and you’re… you know, Heeseung. I didn’t think you’d care.”

His hand pauses on your arm, his fingers curling slightly, warm against your skin. “I care,” he says, and there’s no teasing now, just raw honesty that makes your chest ache. “I’ve cared for a while. But you’re Lia’s best friend, and I didn’t want to make things messy. Didn’t want to cross that line.” He pauses, his eyes searching yours. “But we’re here now, aren’t we?”

You nod, your throat too tight to speak. The air between you is thick, heavy with everything you’ve both left unsaid for years. You’re still shy, still trembling under his gaze, but there’s a spark in you now, a tiny flame of courage that’s been building since that first summer. You take a shaky breath, stepping closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the pull of him like gravity.

“What are we doing, Heeseung?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it, his eyes darkening.

“Whatever you want,” he says, his voice rough, like he’s holding back. “You tell me, Y/N. You’re the one who’s been running from this.”

You swallow, your heart racing, your hands itching to touch him, to close the distance you’ve been dancing around for years. “I’m not running now,” you say, and it’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done, standing there, offering yourself up to the one person who could break you.

Heeseung’s breath hitches, and then he’s moving, closing the gap in one swift motion. His lips crash into yours, and it’s like the world stops—everything stops, the party, the noise, the fear. It’s just him, his mouth hot and hungry, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you against him. You gasp into the kiss, your shyness melting under the heat of it, your hands finding his hair, tugging him closer. He groans, low and deep, and the sound sends a jolt through you, pooling low in your stomach.

The kiss is messy, desperate, years of want poured into every slide of his lips, every flick of his tongue. You’re pressed against him, his body hard and warm, and you can feel the way he’s trembling, like he’s been holding back as long as you have. His hands roam, sliding up your sides, under your shirt, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your waist, and you shiver, pressing closer, wanting more, needing everything.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice rough, wrecked. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His hands slide higher, teasing the edge of your bra, and you whimper, a sound you didn’t know you could make, your body acting on instinct, not thought.

“Heeseung,” you whisper, and it’s a plea, a prayer, everything you’ve ever wanted wrapped in his name. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy with want, his lips swollen from the kiss. He’s beautiful, devastating, and you’re so far gone you don’t know how you’ll ever come back from this.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, his mouth trailing to your jaw, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make your head spin. “Every summer, I saw you and thought, God, she’s it. Every damn time.” His voice is low, raw, and you’re certain you can feel it in your soul, wrapping around you like a melody.

His hands move higher, one slipping under your shirt, his palm warm against your stomach, and you arch into him, your body moving before your mind can catch up, wanting him closer, deeper, more.

You’re dizzy, lost in him, your shyness a faint echo that only makes this moment sharper, more real. You tug at his tank top, your fingers clumsy but desperate, and he leans back, his eyes dark and heavy as he watches you. “You sure?” he asks, his voice low, almost a growl, and you nod, your breath shaky but unwavering.

“Never been surer,” you say, and it’s the truth, spilling out like it’s been waiting years to be heard. You reach for him again, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense under your touch, and he groans, low and needy, capturing your lips in another kiss that’s deeper, hungrier, like he’s trying to pour every unspoken word into you.

His hands are bolder now, one cupping your face, the other roaming your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, teasing the edge of your bra. You’re trembling, overwhelmed but not hesitant, not with him. You want this, want him, want to finally let go of the distance you’ve been keeping for years.

You pull him closer, your lips parting for him, and he takes it, his tongue sliding against yours, slow and deliberate, making you melt into him.

The bed is behind you, the sheets rumpled and inviting, and you’re so close to falling into it, to letting this moment swallow you whole. His body presses against yours, and you can feel his want, the evidence in the way he holds you, the way his breath catches when you shift against him.

Your hands slide down his shoulders, your nails grazing his skin, and he shudders, his lips breaking from yours to trail down your neck, hot and urgent, leaving sparks in their wake.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled, rough with need. “No idea how long I’ve wanted you like this.” His hands are everywhere, one sliding up your thigh, the other still under your shirt, teasing higher, and you whimper, a sound you didn’t know you could make, your body acting on instinct, craving him.

You’re ready to give in, to let him take you wherever this leads, your shyness no match for the fire he’s lit inside you. You tug at his hair, pulling him back to your lips, and he groans, the kiss messier now, more desperate, like you’re both running out of time. Your heart is pounding, your skin burning under his touch, and you’re so close to saying yes, to letting go of everything that’s held you back—

Knock, knock, knock.

The sound is a gunshot, sharp and jarring, cutting through the haze of want. You freeze, your heart lurching, and Heeseung pulls back, his lips still hovering over yours, his breath ragged. “

Fuck,” he whispers, his voice strained, his eyes wide with the same shock you feel.

“Y/N! Heeseung!” Lia’s voice rings through the door, loud and teasing, dripping with amusement. “Fifteen minutes is up, you lovebirds! Get your asses back down here!”

The party’s noise creeps back in, muffled but undeniable, and the spell shatters. You’re both breathing hard, your hands still tangled in his hair, his still on your waist, but the moment’s gone, stolen by Lia’s relentless grin and the creak of the floorboards outside. You pull away, your face burning, your shyness rushing back but not enough to regret what just happened. You fumble for your shirt, smoothing it down, your hands trembling as you try to catch your breath.

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on you like he’s not ready to let this go. “Y/N,” he starts, his voice soft but urgent, and you meet his gaze, your heart still racing.

There’s no fear in you now, no worry about what this could mean for you and Lia, for your friendship, for everything. You just want him, and you’re tired of pretending you don’t.

“We should go,” you say, your voice quiet but steady, and it’s not because you want to stop, but because you know Lia’s not going anywhere until you open that door. You’re still shy, still prone to blushing under his gaze, but there’s a new certainty in you, a spark that wasn’t there before.

Heeseung nods, slow and reluctant, his eyes never leaving yours. “This isn’t over,” he says, his voice low, a promise that makes your stomach flip. “You know that, right?”

You nod, because you do know. You’ve known it since that first summer, since the first time his voice made your heart skip. You open the door, slipping out, and Heeseung follows, his presence a warm shadow at your back.

Downstairs, the party’s still alive, music pulsing, laughter spilling over like the soju on the table.

Lia’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed, her smirk so sharp it could slice through the tension between you and Heeseung. “Well, damn,” she says, her eyes flicking between your flushed cheeks and Heeseung’s messy hair. “That was a long fifteen minutes. Have fun?”

You want to melt into the floor, your shyness making you shrink under her gaze, but you force a smile, muttering, “Shut up, Lia.” Your voice is too high, too shaky, and she cackles, loud and delighted, like she’s just won the lottery.

Heeseung’s cooler, leaning against the banister with a shrug. “Just talking,” he says, his voice smooth, but there’s a glint in his eyes that dares her to push. Lia raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, and you know she’s going to grill you later, but for now, she just laughs, shaking her head.

The game moves on, someone else taking the hot seat, but you’re barely present, your mind still upstairs, replaying the feel of Heeseung’s lips, the way his hands burned against your skin.

You sit back on the couch, your cup forgotten in your hands, stealing glances at him across the room. He’s back against the wall, laughing with his cousins, but his eyes find yours every few minutes, quick and knowing, like a secret you’re both guarding.

The night drags on, the party growing louder, drunker, but you’re sober now, the buzz of alcohol replaced by the buzz of him. Lia’s watching you like a hawk, her teasing playful but relentless. “You’re so red,” she whispers, poking your cheek, and you swat her hand away, muttering something about the heat, but she’s not fooled. “You and Heeseung, huh? I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

“Stop,” you hiss, but you’re smiling, because you’re not afraid anymore.

You want this, want him, and Lia’s teasing feels like permission, like she’s cheering you on even if she won’t say it outright. She leans back, sipping her drink, her eyes glinting with mischief, and you know she’s not done meddling.

Hours later, the party starts to wind down, people stumbling home or crashing on couches. You’re exhausted, your shyness making the chaos draining, but you don’t want to leave, not when Heeseung’s still here, his presence pulling you like gravity.

You’re helping Lia clean up, tossing empty cups into a trash bag, when Heeseung finds you in the kitchen, the house quieter now, the air softer.

“Hey,” he says, leaning against the counter, his voice low, just for you. “You okay?”

You nod, your heart racing again, your shyness flaring under his gaze but not enough to stop you. “Yeah,” you say, focusing on the cups in your hands to steady yourself. “Just… a lot, you know?”

He steps closer, and you feel it—the heat of him, the pull that’s been there since that first summer. “About upstairs,” he starts, and your breath catches, because you’re ready to hear it, ready to dive back into that moment. “I meant what I said, Y/N. This isn’t just tonight for me.”

Your hands tremble, and you set the cups down, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes are serious, no trace of the teasing boy from earlier, just raw, unguarded want.

“Heeseung,” you say, your voice shaky but full of longing, “I want this too. I’ve wanted it for so long.”

His breath hitches, and he steps closer, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers brushing yours, warm and sure. “Then let’s do this,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “No hiding, no running. Just… us.”

You nod, your throat tight, because it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of, and for once, you’re not afraid of what it means.

You’re ready, shy but certain, ready to let Heeseung be more than a crush, more than a secret. He squeezes your hand, just for a second, then lets go, his smile soft and promising.

Lia finds you a minute later, her eyes narrowed but playful. “You two are so obvious,” she says, tossing a sponge at you.

"Go sleep, Lia." Heeseung says as shej shrugs.

“Just makeout already.” She laughs, shaking her head, and heads upstairs, her voice trailing behind her like a blessing.

Lia’s voice—“Just makeout already”—lingers like a melody, a spark tossed into the dry kindling of your heart. She’s gone now, her footsteps fading up the stairs, her laughter a soft echo in the beach house’s quiet corridors.

The kitchen is still, save for the hum of the fridge and the distant pulse of the party winding down in the living room. You’re standing there, trash bag forgotten, your skin tingling with the memory of Heeseung’s kiss, your heart a quiet storm of longing and courage.

Heeseung’s watching you from across the counter, his eyes a warm, molten hazel that seem to hold the night itself. His black tank top hugs his frame, his hair a soft mess, and there’s a gentleness in his gaze that makes your shyness feel like a strength, not a cage.

He’s not just Lia’s cousin, not just the boy who’s haunted your dreams for four summers. He’s the one who sees you, who’s always seen you, and tonight, you’re done letting that slip through your fingers.

“You’re blushing,” he says, his voice soft, a thread of amusement woven through it. He steps closer, the space between you shrinking, and it’s like the air shifts, charged with something new—not the frantic heat from upstairs, but something deeper, like a promise waiting to be spoken.

You laugh, a shy, breathy sound, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can you blame me?” you say, your voice quieter than you mean, but it’s steady, anchored by the truth you’ve carried for years. “You’re standing there looking like… like you.”

Heeseung’s smile is slow, a crescent moon breaking through clouds. “Like me?” he teases, but there’s no edge to it, just a warmth that makes your chest ache. He’s closer now, close enough that you can smell his perfume again.“You’re gonna have to explain that one, Y/N.”

You bite your lip, your shyness bubbling up, but you push through it, meeting his gaze. “Like you’re everything I’ve been thinking about since I was eighteen,” you say, and it’s not a grand declaration, but it’s yours, raw and honest, laid bare in the dim light of the kitchen.

His breath catches, and for a moment, he’s still, his eyes searching yours like he’s memorizing this moment, this you.

“You have no idea,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper, “how many nights I’ve thought about you. How many times I saw you laughing with Lia, or reading on the porch, and wanted to tell you how much you got under my skin.”

Your heart stumbles, full and heavy, because it’s not just words—it’s the truth you’ve felt in every glance, every brush of his hand, every summer you spent pretending you didn’t love him. “Then tell me now,” you say, your voice trembling but sure, your shyness a soft edge to your bravery. “Show me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Heeseung closes the distance, his hands finding your face, cupping your cheeks like you’re something precious, something holy. His lips meet yours, and it’s not the desperate crash from upstairs—it’s slow, deliberate, a vow pressed into every gentle movement.

You sigh into him, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart under your touch. The kiss deepens, his tongue brushing yours, and it’s like a song you’ve always known but never dared to sing.

He pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I love you, Y/N,” he says, and it’s not a confession thrown into the heat of the moment—it’s a truth he’s carried as long as you have, laid bare in the quiet of the night. “I’ve loved you every summer, every moment you were here, every moment you weren’t.”

Your eyes sting, not from sadness but from the weight of it, the beauty of finally hearing what you’ve dreamed of. “I love you too,” you whisper, and it’s like letting go of a breath you’ve held for years. “I’ve loved you since that first day, when you smiled at me and I forgot how to breathe.”

He laughs, soft and bright, and it’s the sound of everything falling into place. “Then we’ve been idiots, haven’t we?” he says, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you closer. “Wasting all this time.”

“No more wasting,” you say, your shyness fading under the certainty of this moment, this love. You kiss him again, bolder now, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. He groans, a low, needy sound that sends a shiver through you, and you press yourself against him, feeling the hard lines of his body, the warmth that’s all him.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with want, and you nod, your heart racing but not with fear—only anticipation, only him. You take his hand, leading him through the quiet house, the party a distant hum, the world narrowing to just you two.

The stairs creak under your feet, the hallway dim and intimate, and you push open the guest room door, the moonlight spilling across the bed like an invitation.

Inside, Heeseung’s hands are on you again, but it’s different now—less frantic, more reverent, like he’s worshiping every inch of you. He kisses you slow, deep, his tongue teasing yours until you’re dizzy, your hands clutching his shoulders for balance.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice soft, his lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, the sensitive spot below your ear. “Always have been.”

You blush, your shyness peeking through, but you don’t pull away. “You too,” you say, your hands sliding down his chest, tugging at his tank top.

He lifts his arms, letting you pull it off, and you pause, taking in the sight of him—his skin golden in the moonlight, his muscles lean and defined, his eyes dark with love and want. You touch him, your fingers tracing the lines of his collarbone, his ribs, and he shudders, like your touch is a flame against his skin.

He reaches for your shirt, his eyes asking permission, and you nod, lifting your arms. He pulls it off, slow and careful, his gaze drinking you in—the lacy bra you wore tonight, the soft curve of your waist. “God,” he breathes, his hands hovering, like he’s afraid to touch something so perfect. “You’re unreal.”

You laugh, shy but warm, and pull him closer, kissing him to silence his awe. His hands find your skin, warm and sure, sliding up your back, unhooking your bra with a gentleness that makes your heart ache.

You let it fall, and his eyes darken, his breath hitching as he takes you in. He kisses you again, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing your nipples, and you gasp, the sensation sharp and electric, pooling low in your stomach.

Heeseung’s lips trail down, following the path of his hands, kissing your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breast. He takes a nipple into his lips, soft at first, then a teasing bite that makes you moan, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Heeseung,” you whisper, his name a plea, and he hums against your skin, the vibration sending sparks through you.

“Love hearing you say my name like that he murmurs, his voice low, as he moves to your other breast, giving it the same care, the same devotion. You’re trembling now, your shyness a soft edge to the overwhelming want, and he notices, pulling back to meet your eyes. “You okay?” he asks, his hands still on your hips, grounding you.

“More than okay,” you say, your voice is quiet but sure, and you tug him back, kissing him hard, letting him know you’re not stopping, not now, not ever.

Your hands find his shorts, fumbling with the button, and he helps you, sliding them off, leaving him in just his boxers. You can feel him, hard and wanting, and it makes you blush, but you don’t shy away—you want this, want him, and you’re ready to take it.

Heeseung’s hands slide to your shorts, his fingers brushing the waistband, and he looks at you, his eyes asking, always asking. “Yes,” you whisper, and he undoes them, slow and careful, sliding them down your legs.

You step out, left in your panties, and he groans, low and soft, his hands gripping your hips like he’s anchoring himself.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, his voice rough, but there’s love in it, a tenderness that makes your heart swell. He kisses you again, guiding you backward until your legs hit the bed, and you sit, then lie back, pulling him with you. He hovers over you, his weight a comforting press, his eyes searching yours.

“I love you,” he says again, like he needs you to know, and you nod, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing his cheeks.

“I love you too,” you say, and it’s a vow, a truth that’s been yours forever. You kiss him, soft and deep, and he shifts, his hands sliding to your panties, tugging gently.

You lift your hips, letting him pull them off, and then you’re bare, vulnerable but not afraid, not with him.

Heeseung’s eyes rake over you, reverent, like you’re a work of art he’s afraid to touch. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he says, and you blush, your shyness peeking through, but you reach for him, pulling him down, needing his skin against yours.

He kisses you, his hands roaming, one sliding between your thighs, finding you wet and wanting. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch, and he groans, his fingers teasing, slow and deliberate.

“So good for me,” he murmurs, his lips on your neck, his fingers circling, and you’re trembling, your shyness melting under the heat of his touch.

He slides a finger inside your cunt, then another, and you moan, your hands clutching his shoulders, your body arching into him. He moves slow, learning you, watching your face, and you feel seen, cherished, loved.

“Heeseung, please,” you whisper, your voice shaky with need, and he kisses you, soft and deep, before pulling back, his eyes dark with want.

“Want to taste you,” he says, his voice rough, and your breath catches, your shyness flaring but not enough to stop you. You nod, and he moves lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, your hips, until he’s between your thighs, his breath warm against you.

He kisses your inner thigh, soft and teasing, and then his mouth is on you, and you’re gone, your hands fisting the sheets, your moans soft and desperate.

He’s slow, deliberate, his tongue teasing, tasting, and you’re trembling, your shyness forgotten as you lose yourself in him. “Fuck, Heeseung,” you gasp, and he groans, the vibration sending you higher, closer to the edge.

He doesn’t stop, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as you fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless, shaking.

He kisses his way back up, his lips soft against your skin, until he’s hovering over you again, his eyes searching yours. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, and you blush, your shyness returning, but you pull him down, kissing him, tasting yourself on his lips.

“I want you,” you whisper, your voice quiet but sure, and he nods, his hands sliding to his boxers, pushing them off. You glance down, blushing at the sight of him, hard and ready, and he chuckles, soft and warm, kissing your cheek.

“We’ll go slow,” he says, his voice gentle, and you nod, trusting him, loving him,“You sure?” he asks, one last time, and you nod, pulling him closer.

“I’m sure,” you say, and he kisses you, deep and slow, as his cock teases your entrance before he presses into you, inch by inch, filling you. You gasp, your hands clutching his shoulders, the stretch intense but perfect, and he pauses, letting you adjust, his lips on your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice tight, like he’s holding himself back, and you nod, your hands sliding to his back, pulling him closer.

Heeseung’s lips are still on yours, his breath a ragged hymn against your skin as he presses himself deeper, filling you with a slow, deliberate stretch that makes your toes curl. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders, the intensity of him—hot, hard, and wholly yours—sending sparks through every nerve. He pauses, his forehead pressed to yours, his eyes half-lidded with restraint and reverence. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice tight, like he’s leashing a storm for your sake.

“More than okay,” you whisper, your shyness a faint tremor beneath the molten want in your voice. You pull him closer, your legs wrapping around his hips, urging him deeper, and he groans, low and guttural, the sound igniting something primal in you. Your hands slide down his back, nails grazing his skin, and he shudders, his control fraying as you give yourself to him, no more walls, no more fear.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps, his lips trailing to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, a claim that makes you moan, soft and needy. “You feel so fucking good. So tight, so perfect.” His hips move, slow at first, a deep, grinding rhythm that has you arching into him, your breath hitching with every thrust. Your shyness lingers in the way you bite your lip, but it’s no match for the fire he’s stoking, the way he’s unraveling you with every touch, every word.

“Harder,” you breathe, surprising yourself, your voice a plea wrapped in courage. You’ve never been bold, never been loud, but with Heeseung, you want to shatter every quiet corner of yourself. His eyes snap to yours, dark and hungry, a flicker of surprise giving way to a smirk that’s pure sin.

“Harder?” he echoes, voice low, teasing, like he’s daring you to mean it. You nod, your cheeks burning, and he grips your hips tighter, fingers bruising in the best way. “You sure, baby? ‘Cause once I start, I’m not holding back.” The pet name drips from his lips like honey, and you clench around him, a whimper escaping before you can stop it.

“Please,” you beg, your hands clutching his shoulders, your body trembling with need. “I want you, Heeseung. All of you.”

That’s all it takes. His restraint snaps, and he thrusts deeper, harder, the bed creaking under the force of him. You moan, loud and unrestrained, your head tipping back into the pillow as he fucks you with a rhythm that’s relentless, possessive, like he’s claiming every inch of you. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough, his lips brushing your ear. “Let me hear you, Y/N. Let me know how good I make you feel.”

You’re lost in him, your shyness drowned by the pleasure, your body moving with his, meeting every thrust, chasing the high that’s building, burning. His cock hits a spot inside you that makes you see stars, and you cry out, your nails raking down his back, leaving marks he’ll feel tomorrow. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his hand sliding between you, fingers finding your clit, circling with a precision that has you trembling, so close to the edge you can taste it.

“Cum for me, baby,” he murmurs, his lips on your neck, his fingers relentless, and you’re gone, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, pulling you under. You clench around him, moaning his name, your body shaking as he fucks you through it, his thrusts slowing but never stopping, drawing out every last shudder.

He’s still hard, still moving, and you’re panting, oversensitive but wanting more, wanting him to feel what you’re feeling. You push at his chest, your shyness peeking through but not stopping you, and he pulls back, eyes questioning. “My turn,” you whisper, voice shaky but sure, and his breath hitches, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Fuck, yes,” he says, rolling onto his back, pulling you with him until you’re straddling his hips, his cock slick and hard beneath you. You blush, your hands trembling as you brace them on his chest, but his gaze is steady, encouraging, like he’s handing you the reins. “Ride me, Y/N. Show me how you want it.”

You’ve never done this, never been on top, and your shyness makes you hesitate, but Heeseung’s hands are on your hips, guiding you, his voice a low rumble. “You got this,” he says, and you believe him, lifting yourself, positioning him at your entrance, and sinking down, inch by inch, until he’s buried deep. You both groan, the angle intense, and you pause, adjusting, your breath ragged.

“God, you look so fucking good like this,” he says, his hands roaming your thighs, your waist, his eyes dark with want. “Move, baby. Take what you need.”

You start slow, rocking your hips, finding a rhythm that makes your toes curl, his cock hitting deep, perfect. His hands grip your hips, not controlling, just grounding, and you move faster, bolder, the pleasure building again, hotter, sharper. “That’s it,” he groans, his head tipping back, his throat a taut line you want to kiss, to bite. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N.”

You lean forward, your hands on his chest, your lips finding his in a messy, desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue as you ride him harder, chasing your high, chasing his. His hands slide to your ass, squeezing, guiding you faster, and he groans, low and broken, his control slipping. “Fuck, I’m close,” he rasps, his hips bucking up to meet you, driving deeper, and you moan, your own climax building, so close you can feel it in your bones.

“Cum inside me,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can think, your shyness buried under the raw need to feel him, all of him. His eyes widen, a flicker of hesitation, but you shake your head, kissing him hard.

He groans, a sound that’s almost pained, and thrusts up harder, his hands bruising your hips as he chases his release. “You sure?” he gasps, voice tight, and you nod, desperate, your lips on his jaw, his neck, begging without words. He thrusts once, twice, and then he’s gone, spilling inside you with a groan that shakes you, his body trembling beneath you. The feel of him, hot and deep, pushes you over the edge again, and you cum with him, clenching tight, moaning into his mouth as you ride out the waves together.

You collapse against him, your breath ragged, your heart pounding against his, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his lips soft against your forehead. “Fuck, Y/N,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, laced with awe. “You’re everything.”

You blush, your shyness creeping back, but you smile, nuzzling into his chest, his heartbeat a steady anchor. “You too,” you whisper, and it’s quiet, but it’s enough, a vow in the moonlight.

He shifts, pulling out gently, and you whimper at the loss, but he’s quick to grab a tissue from the nightstand, cleaning you both with a care that makes your heart ache. He pulls you back into his arms, the bed creaking under you, the moonlight painting your skin in silver. “We’re doing this,” he says, voice firm, a promise against your hair. “You and me. No more games.”

You nod, your cheek against his chest, his warmth seeping into you. “No more games,” you echo, and it’s a truth you’ve carried for years, finally free.

The next morning, the beach house is a ghost of last night’s chaos, sunlight streaming through the windows, the air smelling of coffee and salt. You’re in the kitchen, pouring a mug, your hair a mess, Heeseung’s shirt dwarfing your frame. Your shyness is back, a soft flush on your cheeks as you catch your reflection, but there’s a glow in your eyes, a secret you’re carrying from the night before.

Lia stumbles in, her curls wild, her grin sharper than the sunlight. “Well, well,” she says, leaning against the counter, her eyes flicking from your shirt to your face. “Look who’s wearing Heeseung’s clothes. You two finally stop dancing around each other?”

You choke on your coffee, your face burning, but you laugh, shy but warm. “Shut up, Lia,” you mumble, but there’s no heat in it, just love. She cackles, throwing an arm around you, hugging you tight.

“Fucking finally,” she says, her voice softer now, sincere. “You’re good for him, Y/N. And he’s crazy about you. I’m happy.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, your throat tight, because her words mean everything. She pulls back, grabbing her own mug, still smirking, and you know she’ll tease you forever, but it’s hers, it’s family.

Heeseung appears a moment later, hair damp from a shower, his smile soft and private as he sees you in his shirt. “Morning,” he says, voice low, and he leans down, kissing your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Lia gags dramatically, but she’s grinning, already pulling out her phone, probably to text her cousins the gossip.

“Get a room,” she says, but she’s laughing, heading out to the porch, leaving you and Heeseung in the quiet kitchen. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against him, and you lean into him, your shyness a soft glow, your love a steady flame.

“Told you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “This isn’t going to make everything we have over.”

You smile, turning to kiss him, slow and sweet, the taste of coffee and him mingling on your tongue. “Good,” you whisper, and it’s a promise, a truth, a love that’s finally yours.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

TAGLIST:-

@slutofpsh

@laurenalpha123

@dreamiestay

@amortenha

@peonywon

@mitmit01

@heeevangelizesme

@gvni-eve

@yourmomni

@leov3rse

@punchbug9-blog

[btsreadss]

──★ JUST LIKE HEAVEN (part. 2)

꒰ ‎﹒ pairing: jay x fem!reader … ﹒ 90s au, childhood friends to lovers, brother's best friend!jay, exes to lovers, fluff, smut … ﹒w/c: 15k synopsis: three years. that’s how long it had been since you last saw jay park. since spring break, since mixtapes and goodbye letters and i’ll write when i can. he had traded the life you knew for one on the road — guitars, neon lights, hotel rooms in cities you’d never been to. and it was 1994 now, you had your own place, your own rhythm. you had almost convinced yourself you were over it. until a concert. a song. a glance across a crowded room. and suddenly, nothing was over at all. ꒰ ‎﹒ warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), smut, mdni!!! 💿 % (◠﹏◠ ✿) #nowplaying: just like heaven - the cure | read part 1 here <3

it’s been three years since you last saw jay park. and somehow, it still feels like yesterday.

by 1994, everything feels different. you’re in your last year of college now. you know how to make your bed in the dark, how to survive on gas station coffee and a playlist that’s been the same since sophomore year. your books are underlined and frayed at the corners. the shoes by your door don’t match on purpose anymore. jungwon’s in college now, halfway through. he’s still figuring things out, but his voice has settled, and so has his energy. a little more grounded, a little less wild around the edges. he doesn’t call as much as he used to, but he writes sometimes. signs his letters with messy doodles and stories that sound like home: who’s dating who, which professor’s a nightmare. he’s talking about studying abroad next year. says it like a joke, but you know he’s serious.

your friends are scattered across cities and apartments, student loans and early jobs. some of them are in long-term relationships. some are engaged. some are already talking about house payments. they still write you, too. sometimes on postcards, sometimes in long emails typed from shared computers in dorm basements. you keep every one.

you've learned how to let go of things slowly. how to miss people quietly. how to stop expecting things to stay the same.

the world has changed since 1991. nevermind came out. so did automatic for the people. you cut your hair once, just to feel something. you fell in love with someone else for a little while, then out of it, and didn’t talk about it much after. the posters in your room have faded from the sun. you don’t live in the dorms anymore. you don’t listen to the same tapes every night. just most nights.

you don’t talk about jay. not really. not out loud.

he shows up in passing. in jokes jungwon makes. in old notes you kept but don’t read. in the way your breath still catches when someone plays just like heaven on a jukebox too late at night. you heard he’s playing in a band now. you don’t know much. just that sometimes, when you pass a flyer on a telephone pole or a crumpled gig poster in a café window, you pause a little longer than you mean to. and sometimes, just sometimes, you wish you see his name is on it.

sometimes, in the middle of doing something normal — folding laundry, walking back from class, standing in line for coffee — you remember that last afternoon.

spring break, 1991. the sky was overcast, warm in the way that made you think summer might arrive early. jay was leaving again. his band had just gotten picked up to open for someone bigger, someone you’d never heard of but pretended to recognize. he had a folded schedule in his back pocket, all scribbled in blue ink and crossed-out cities.

“you should come,” he said. “i’ll leave your name at the door.”

you smiled. nodded. said, “yeah, maybe.”

but you never did.

the next semester hit hard. papers stacked up, internships started, and time blurred. phone calls turned into postcards. then into silence. it wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really. he had tour dates. you had midterms. and something about trying too hard to hold on felt embarrassing after a while.

the last thing he sent was a letter.

you still remember the envelope. thin, bent at the corner, his handwriting slanted and messier than usual. you read it in your dorm room one night, sitting on the edge of your bed while your roommate snored into her pillow.

y/n,

i’m sorry i’ve been gone. i mean, i’ve been here, just not really anywhere at the same time. i thought i could keep up with everything. with touring, with writing, with remembering to breathe. but i keep messing it up. i keep losing time. i didn’t want to stop writing. i just didn’t know how to keep showing up if i wasn’t doing it right.

i still think about you. that’s probably unfair.

i hope you’re good. i hope you’re better than i’ve been.

— j

you kept that letter for too long. read it twice. three times. then put it away in a drawer and didn’t open it again.

after that, things just… faded. you didn’t write. he didn’t call. you heard from jungwon once that jay had been in town for a weekend but didn’t stop by. you told yourself that was fine. you told yourself it didn’t matter. until that night in 1993, in the back room of someone’s party. the music loud. drinks half-finished. two girls near the record player talking about some band they saw the week before. one of them said, “the guitarist was so hot, i swear he was flirting with me all night backstage.” and the other one laughed. “the one with the flannel? that’s jay, right?”

you froze. just for a second. and didn’t say anything. you didn’t ask if it was the same jay. you didn’t need to. you left early, walked home alone, told yourself it didn’t mean anything, that you were fine. that you’d grown out of it.

but some nights, when it’s too quiet to lie to yourself, you replay that last goodbye. the way he’d said, “you should come.” and the way you never did. you wonder if he waited. for how long. or if he stopped counting somewhere along the way.

and here you are, 1994, months from graduating, pretending the weight on your chest is just the pressure of adulthood. pretending you don’t still rewind that tape sometimes. pretending you haven’t memorized his handwriting even though you haven’t seen it in years.

you’re fine. you smile when people ask. you talk about plans. you fill your days with work and lists and voices that keep you forward-facing. but every once in a while, at the end of a song, or the bottom of a box, or when you see someone in a denim jacket that doesn’t quite fit, you feel it again.

you never really let go. you just learned how to carry it differently.

it started as something casual, something thrown into a friday night without much weight — just yunjin walking into the room with two tickets and that grin she always had when she knew you needed something to pull you out of your head. she said bon jovi was in town. said yeonjun already had his and that the three of you could go together. said she didn’t want to hear any excuses. and you didn’t have one, not really. so you nodded, and told yourself it would be good to get out. you hadn’t been to a concert in a while. not a big one, not the kind with lights and heat and voices shouting into the dark.

you didn’t think about jay right away. maybe just for a second. a flicker of memory at the name. you remembered him talking about bon jovi, you remembered that t-shirt you painted for him. 

so you went. you got dressed. you wore your denim jacket and borrowed eyeliner from yunjin. yeonjun picked you both up in his dad’s car, windows down, music too loud. it was the kind of night that felt like it could belong to anyone. the arena was full. the floor vibrated before anything even started. people were already on their feet, beer sloshing from plastic cups, voices rising together like they’d been waiting all week just to scream. you found your seats, somewhere near the back but high enough to see the full stretch of stage. the lights dimmed. a ripple ran through the crowd, electric and hungry. and then the band was there. you let yourself enjoy the first songs. let the music rush through you, let the drums hit your chest. yunjin was dancing in her seat. yeonjun kept shouting lyrics half a beat too late. the night blurred around the edges in the way concerts always do.

and then came the next song. always. you recognized it before your brain caught up. 

and that’s when you saw him.

your eyes were scanning the stage out of habit, and there he was. standing off to the left, half-shadowed in blue light. guitar slung low across his chest, hair falling forward a little as he tilted toward the mic. he looked older. not in a bad way, just real. flannel sleeves rolled to the elbows, hands steady on the strings. and then he opened his mouth and sang. not lead. just backing vocals.

your body didn’t move. couldn’t. it was like the floor had locked you in place. you stared. the rest of the crowd kept moving. the lights kept flashing. yunjin was still beside you, completely unaware. but your world had shrunk to the length of the stage and the shape of his shoulders and the way he closed his eyes when he hit a harmony.

jay. after all this time.

after postcards and silence and a hundred almost-memories you tried not to replay.

he was looking out into the crowd, past the lights, into the blur of people that you had somehow become a part of. and still, something in you reached for him. your fingers curled against your jacket, your breath caught halfway. you didn’t cry. not yet. you just kept staring, like maybe if you stayed very still, the universe would shift, and he’d look up, and see you. but he doesn’t see you. of course he doesn’t. you’re just one face in a crowd of thousands, too far up and too far back and too far gone. but when the last chorus of always starts, something in your chest breaks open anyway.

you hear him — clear, right through the echo and the noise. i know when i die, you’ll be on my mind, and i’ll love you, always.

your breath catches so hard you forget how to let it go.

your fingers find the edge of your seat. your knees lock, then unlock. and before you even know what you’re doing, you’re standing. slipping past yunjin’s knees, brushing yeonjun’s arm. you don’t look at either of them. you just go.

“where are you going?” yunjin’s voice follows you.

yeonjun chimes in too, confused. maybe a little annoyed. “dude. what—”

but you don’t answer. you can’t. you’re already down the stairs, already pushing through the hallway, the noise of the concert fading as you make your way out. the air outside is colder than you expected. your legs feel heavy. your hands are shaking, and you don’t stop walking until you’re alone. you take the long way home, even though the buses are still running. even though your shoes are not made for this. you walk like you’re trying to wear the feeling out of your body. like distance could make this less real.

and when you finally get to your apartment, you shut the door quietly behind you. you don’t turn on the lights. you just stand there, coat still on, bag still slung over your shoulder, and you let yourself feel it. you cry. you cry in that ugly, helpless way where your hands can’t keep up with your face, where your chest folds in on itself, where everything you’d been holding in since 1991 spills out like it never had anywhere to go. you cry because you saw him. because it’s been three years. because you didn’t know he would be there and now you don’t know how to be here without the weight of that moment pressed into your skin. and then you sit down on the floor, like your body doesn’t know what to do next.

you think about all the things that came flooding back the second you saw him: that christmas, the porch light, the sound of his voice in a letter, the way he used to rest his forehead against yours like it meant something. the lake house. the mixtape. the last kiss. you think about the letter he sent before it all went quiet. the way he said i still think about you, and how you never answered. you think about the day you heard someone else say his name and pretended it didn’t knock the air out of you.

you think about how, even after all this time, you still knew his voice the second you heard it. and somewhere under all of that, buried deep in the ache, there’s something like pride. because he made it. you always knew he could. he was good, really good. not just at guitar, but at meaning what he played. and now here he is, sharing a stage with one of the biggest bands in the world. and sounding like he belongs there. you’re happy for him. you are. but it still hurts. not because you wanted him to stay, but because some part of you never expected to lose him like this. not so completely.

you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jacket. pull your knees up to your chest. the room is quiet, save for the hum of the fridge and the faint buzz of a light somewhere down the hall. and in the middle of all that silence, your heart keeps repeating the same question, over and over. does he ever think of you when he sings it? you don’t know. maybe you’ll never know.

but tonight, for a moment, you were eighteen again. and that’s almost worse than forgetting.

you wake up with your face still puffy, the inside of your mouth dry, and the memory of always still echoing in your chest. you sit on the kitchen floor with yesterday’s clothes and a cold cup of coffee, and you think, i’ll just move on. you don’t mean to say anything about it. you don’t wake up planning to talk. but then there’s a knock and it’s yunjin, holding a paper bag and looking like she already knows you’re not okay. yeonjun’s behind her, carrying takeout cups and wearing his we come in peace t-shirt that always makes you laugh, even when you don’t want to.

they don’t press at first. they come in, settle onto your couch, act like it’s any other morning. yunjin puts music on low — something soft, r.e.m. — and yeonjun turns on the kettle like he lives there. you sit cross-legged on the floor in your hoodie, and after a few minutes of silence, yunjin says, “you didn’t come back.”

and that’s when it breaks, and you tell them everything. not the whole thing. not every letter, not every tape, not the lake or the kiss or the way he once said you make things feel easy. but enough for them to understand that it wasn’t just the shock of seeing him. it was everything around it. the time, the loss, the space between who you were and who he is now. they don’t interrupt. they don’t try to fix it. yeonjun just nods, real slow, and mutters, “damn.” yunjin reaches over and squeezes your hand.

hours pass, blurring into a quiet afternoon of them helping you pack away some of the memories, pausing only to put on some mindless show. they don't stay too long after that. eventually, they get up and start talking about dinner, about how you're going out whether you like it or not, and you let them take you along because the apartment feels too full of memory, and because they're trying, and because you've always been better at pretending when someone else is watching.

the diner they pick is on the corner near the old bookstore, the neon sign flickers a little, and you feel something in your chest settle as soon as you sit down. yunjin and yeonjun are talking, laughing quietly about someone from class, their legs brushing under the table in that way that makes you suspicious. they’re trying to act normal, but there’s something too soft in the way she hands him the salt. you watch them out of the corner of your eye, chewing on your straw, and finally smile for real for the first time all day.

but after a while, the noise gets too much again. you excuse yourself, and step out the front door, letting it shut behind you with a soft click. the sky’s dark now, but not cold. the street’s mostly empty and silent, except for a few cars passing, the occasional sound of a skateboard or a laugh from somewhere around the corner. you reach into your jacket pocket and pull out a crushed pack of cigarettes. one left. figures. you picked this habit up during finals last year. felt cool. felt like the end of a music video, like it did in the 80s. but now, in the 90s, they say it’ll kill you. but it shuts everything up for a second. so.

you don’t know how long you stand there like that, leaning against the brick wall, cigarette between your fingers, letting the night breathe around you. and then headlights hit the pavement, a car pulls into the lot — dark green, polished, the kind of old-school cool that feels deliberate but not forced. it’s a 1992 chevy camaro z28, all angles and muscle, the kind of car a guy buys when they’re not quite ready to settle down.

you watch without thinking. the door opens. a guy steps out, tall, black jacket, looks vaguely familiar. another follows, laughing, pulling off a beanie. you know them. not well. not personally. but you recognize them. because you’ve seen them before.

on stage.

the third door opens slower.

and there he is.

jay.

he steps out like he’s unsure of the ground under him. same flannel, sleeves rolled, hair a little shorter now, but still him. still the same shape of boy you kissed once in a field of stars, the same voice on every tape you kept hidden in your drawer.

he’s looking down at first, shoulders slightly hunched. and then he looks up. right at you. he freezes. you freeze too. for a second, maybe longer, neither of you moves.

the other guys are still talking, already walking toward the diner entrance. but jay doesn’t follow. he stays there, by the car, staring at you like you’re something he thought he made up. like seeing you breaks some rule. your cigarette burns down between your fingers. you forget to breathe. you forget to blink. and in the silence between one breath and the next, the years fold up like they never happened. it feels like you’re just two kids again.

the car door is still open behind jay, one of the other guys calling his name from a few steps ahead, not noticing, or maybe not caring, that he hasn’t followed. his eyes stay on you like they’re trying to make sure you’re not just a trick of the lights, something he pulled out of a dream too late at night. you don’t look away. you can’t.

he closes the door and takes a few steps forward. slow and careful, like you might run.

“hi,” he says, voice low, uncertain, like the word isn’t big enough for what he’s feeling.

“hi.” you say it back.

and then silence again. the kind that comes heavy and weird, pressing between the two of you like fog. you cross your arms. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. a door opens somewhere behind you, someone laughs from inside the diner, but it doesn’t touch either of you. he clears his throat first.

“i forgot we were in your city,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “too many cities lately. i don’t even know what day it is half the time.”

you let out a small, dry laugh through your nose — not exactly mean, just tired. “yeah,” you say quietly. “i went to the show.”

his eyes widen a little, like the information hits harder than it should. “you—what?”

you nod once, slow. “i didn’t know you were part of the band. it was my friend’s idea. she dragged me out.” your voice is steadier than you expected. “i recognized your voice first. then i saw you.” he doesn’t say anything. his mouth opens slightly like he might, but nothing comes out. “you’re really good,” you add, softer this time. “i mean it.”

his shoulders drop a little. his mouth twists, not into a smile, exactly, but something close. “thanks.”

“i didn’t know you made it that far,” you say. “bon jovi.”

he exhales. his eyes are shining a little, and he looks down like he needs a second to get control of whatever’s happening inside him. “i didn’t know you’d be there.”

“me neither.”

he takes another step toward you. you don’t move. "i didn’t think i’d ever see you again," he says. his voice cracks at the end, just a little. "and now you’re here, you’re smoking."

you let out a low laugh, real this time. “yeah. turns out i have terrible coping mechanisms.”

he smiles, but it’s cautious. “i’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “for disappearing. for not writing. for—”

you hold up a hand, just slightly. “you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” his voice is steady now. quiet, but clear. he’s still standing a foot away, but it feels like he’s closer than that. “i wanted to reach out a hundred times,” he continues. “but it felt like too much. or not enough. and then time just… passed.”

you nod, slowly. “yeah. it does that.”

he looks at you again, really looks this time, like he’s trying to see who you became. “you look good,” he says. “different, but not really.”

you smile, even though it hurts a little. “you too. the flannel’s still doing the heavy lifting though.”

he laughs, finally, and it breaks something between you. for a second, you let it be easy again. he tilts his head, eyes soft. “can i—are you okay?” you hesitate. then nod. “i don’t know what this is,” he says. “i don’t know if i have the right to even be talking to you right now. but i’m really glad i saw you.”

you swallow around the lump in your throat. “me too.”

he takes a breath like he might say more, but the diner door swings open then, and yunjin leans out. “hey—are you—”

she sees him, and freezes. then looks at you. then back at him. her mouth opens like she wants to say something but she wisely doesn’t. “i’ll give you a minute,” she says, disappearing back inside without another word. you and jay both laugh under your breath at the same time. and just like that, it’s quiet again. he takes one more step forward, close enough now that you can see the curve of his lashes, the slight stubble on his jaw, his birth mark on the side of his neck. the way his hand twitches like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“can i give you a hug?” he asks, voice soft. unsure.

you nod. barely, but it’s enough. he moves toward you and wraps his arms around you, carefully at first, then tighter, like something in him breaks open when you don’t pull away. and you sink into it. not because you want to, but because your body does before your mind can think twice. his arms are strong, warmer than you remember. he smells like the kind of cologne you’d smell on someone walking by backstage, faint smoke and something sharp underneath it, but it’s still him, still familiar. you bury your face against his shoulder, and neither of you says anything for a long time. he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. doesn’t let go.

“i think about you a lot,” he says, voice rough. “still.” you meet his eyes, breath shaky. he continues, “some songs... i write thinking about you. i don’t mean to. it just happens.”

you blink hard, chest tight again. “i liked always,” you say. “it’s a good one.”

he looks down, just a second. his hand still resting on your back. “yeah, i wrote that one,” he says. you stare at him for a beat. he shrugs a little. doesn’t say if he wrote that one thinking about you. but his eyes say more than his mouth ever could. you look away first. try to breathe again.

“how’s jungwon?” he asks suddenly, gently shifting the weight of the conversation.

you smile, genuine. “he’s good. third year. studying architecture. i don’t know where that came from.”

“he always liked building stuff. remember that weird tower he made out of cereal boxes?”

you laugh quietly. “yeah. and glue sticks. and half the living room rug.”

he smiles at that. the kind of smile that aches. “i missed him. i miss home sometimes.”

you nod. “me too.”

he looks at you again. more carefully this time. “what about you? last year, right?”

“yeah. almost done.”

“how’s it been?”

you shrug. “busy. normal. lonely, sometimes. i live alone now.”

he opens his mouth to answer, but the door behind him swings open again. two guys step out, the same ones from the car. one of them grins when he sees jay and calls out, “hey, you coming in or what?”

jay glances at them, then back at you. “i’ll be in soon,” he says. “ran into a long-time... friend.”

the pause in the middle of the sentence hangs there. not heavy. just strange. like both of you noticed it, but neither wants to name it. the other guy raises his eyebrows a little but doesn’t ask anything. they head back inside. the silence creeps back in. the door opens behind you this time. “hey,” yunjin says, stepping out. “we’re heading out. you coming?” yeonjun follows, one hand casually linked with hers. they both look at you, curious but not nosy, like they know enough not to ask. you glance at them, then at jay. then back.

you shake your head. “i think i’ll stay.”

yunjin squeezes your arm, just once, and nods. yeonjun just smiles, like he expected that answer all along. they wave as they walk away, hands still linked, disappearing around the corner. you turn to jay. he doesn’t say anything. just watches you. waiting. and somehow, without a word, you both understand the next step.

and that's when jay thinks about everything that happened in the last three years. he didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did.

at first, he thought he could balance everything — school, the band, writing, you. he really thought he could make it all work. but time moved differently back then. and he was always chasing something. a setlist. a deadline. a bus that left too early or too late. the band got serious quicker than any of them expected. one night they were playing to twenty drunk kids in someone’s garage and the next they were opening for someone bigger, someone with real equipment and real fans. people started showing up. listening. remembering his name. it was addictive but also terrifying. 

college faded into the background. it didn’t make sense anymore. he stopped going to most of his classes. said he’d take a semester off, then another. his parents were furious at first. called it reckless. stupid. said he was wasting potential. but then they came to a show. just one. they saw the way the crowd reacted, the way he moved with his guitar like it was part of him, like the music wasn’t something he made but something he became. after that, they softened. not completely, not all at once, but enough.

he kept going. city after city. song after song. sleeping in vans, missing birthdays, forgetting what day it was. he lost track of holidays. of phone calls. of you.

but he thought about you all the time. 

he thought about you when the van was too quiet and everyone else was asleep. he thought about you when he saw lights flickering in some motel parking lot and it reminded him of that night in the lake. he thought about you when he wrote something too soft, too raw, and didn’t know why it mattered until your name crossed his mind halfway through the chorus. he thought about you every time they played near your state and he almost said something to the manager. almost asked if you’d be there. he thought about you every time he rewound that tape you gave him, the one with your handwriting on the cover and that one song you swore would always make you think of summer.

he started writing that last letter months before he sent it. scratched out versions of it in different notebooks, napkins, corners of lyric sheets. tried to get the words right and never did. everything sounded like a lie, or worse, like a goodbye. and he didn’t want it to be that. but he also didn’t know how to keep pretending it wasn’t over. and when he finally wrote it, he kept it folded in his bag for three days before mailing it. didn’t sleep that night. didn’t tell anyone. he didn’t expect you to write back. but part of him always hoped you would.

he told himself he was doing what he was meant to do. that the trade-off was worth it. that this life — the shows, the travel, the applause — it had to be enough. but then the lights would go down at the end of a set, and someone would ask if he was coming out for drinks, and he’d find himself standing by the door too long, thinking of you. of your voice. of how you said maybe when he asked you to come see him play. he told himself you were probably happy. probably better off. probably didn’t think about him the same way anymore.

and then, three years later, he walked out of a car in a city he didn’t even realize was yours. and there you were, smoking a cigarette, looking at him like he’d never really left. like he was still someone you knew. and everything inside him just stopped. because it had been three years, and somehow, it still felt like you were the only part of his life that had ever been quiet enough to feel real.

he watches your friends walk away until they’re out of sight. the parking lot quiets down again, humming with the low buzz of neon and leftover conversation.

he turns to you. “do you wanna get out of here?” he asks, like it’s nothing. like it’s not everything.

you look at him for a second. just long enough for it to matter. “yeah,” you say. “i do.”

he nods, like he wasn’t expecting a yes. like part of him already had one foot back inside the diner. you both start walking toward the car, the one he came in, but he hesitates. “this isn’t mine,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “we’re leaving tomorrow morning. early. that’s the drummer’s car.” he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down for a second before glancing at you again. “my car’s at the hotel. about twenty minutes that way.”

“my place is closer. we can walk, if you want.” you don’t know why you say it. not exactly. the words come out easy, but they sit strange in your chest. there’s no plan. no reason. no expectation. just this pull that says don’t let him go yet.

he nods. “okay.”

the walk starts quiet. the streets are mostly empty, the kind of quiet you only get in a small city late at night. the air is cooler now and makes your skin feel too tight. you pull your jacket tighter around you. he notices. he doesn’t say anything. just steps a little closer. your shoulders brush, just slightly. neither of you moves away. you pass under a streetlamp. it hums above you. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye — his jawline in the yellow light, the way his hands are still tucked into the sleeves of his flannel like he’s holding something in.

“i don’t know what to say to you,” you admit quietly. not looking at him.

“me neither,” he says, almost instantly. “it’s weird.”

“yeah.”

“but not bad.”

you glance up at him but he’s already looking at you. you nod. “no. not bad.”

you don’t speak again for a while. the silence between you isn’t empty, though. it’s full of everything you both remember and everything you’re both afraid to ask. every few steps, your arms brush again. sometimes your hands, and it doesn’t feel like an accident. but it doesn’t feel like a decision either.

you turn onto your street, point out the building without saying anything. he follows you up the front steps like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you hear your keys in your hand before you realize you took them out. you stop in front of the door. and that’s when it really settles in — the closeness. the possibility. the strangeness of all of this.

you haven’t seen him in years, you barely know him now, but you used to. you really, really used to. and standing here, in front of your door, you’re not sure which version of him is looking back at you — the boy you kissed in the dark, or the man who sang backup on a stadium stage. maybe both. maybe neither.

you unlock the door with a quiet click, push it open slowly, and step inside first. you don’t turn on the overhead light, just the small lamp by the bookshelf. your place smells like lavender and the faint trace of the incense you burned the night before. you kick off your shoes, he copies you. he steps in carefully, like he’s not sure if he should be there, like he might break something by breathing too loud. his eyes move slowly across the room — the record player near the window, a stack of books with a coffee mug balanced on top, a blanket half-fallen from the couch.

he lets out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “you made it look like you.”

you glance at him, eyebrow raised. “what does that mean?”

he shrugs, walking a little deeper into the room. “i don’t know. it just... feels like you live here. it’s not just a space. it’s yours.”

you smile, small. close the door behind him. “thanks, i think.”

he turns back toward the shelf, fingertips brushing over the spines of the books, the edge of a candle, the side of your old walkman. he pauses. his hand stops at a cassette case, faded, slightly cracked at the corner, label smudged from years of being touched. he pulls it out gently. the handwriting is his.

he looks at you, eyes soft. “you kept this?”

you nod, slow. “yeah.”

he stares at it for a second longer, then sets it back down, careful. when he turns back toward you, his face is quieter than before, like something's settled. “do you... wanna talk?” he asks. his voice isn’t pushing. just curiosity and hope. “like—about everything. put things in order.”

you blink once, then nod. slow. “if you want to,” you say. “if you’re comfortable.” he nods too, eyes still on you. you motion to the couch, then the kettle. “you can sit, or make tea, whatever makes it feel easier. make yourself at home.” he lets out a little breath at that, the corner of his mouth tugging into a barely-there smile. he sits on the couch and watches as you move through the space. you light the kettle on the stove. he watches your hands. “so,” you say eventually, turning back to face him, leaning against the counter. “how did you end up playing with bon jovi?”

he huffs out a breath, eyes widening slightly. “honestly? i still don’t totally know.”

you raise an eyebrow and he shrugs. “you auditioned?”

he nods. “twice. the second time, i played a song i wrote. didn’t say it was mine. they figured it out later. he liked that too.” he pauses. “it happened fast. i didn’t expect it.”

you tilt your head. “but you wanted it.”

“yeah,” he says, looking down at his hands. “i think i did. i mean, of course i did. we were opening for a few mid-sized acts. nothing huge. a guy who did lighting for their crew saw us in a club, told someone higher up that our guitarist was ‘some kid with way too much emotion in his fingers.’” he rolls his eyes at that. “i guess jon liked that.” you walk over slowly, curling your legs under you as you sit across from him. he shifts just slightly to face you. “so,” he says, matching your tone. “what about you? how were the last three years?”

you hesitate. not because you don’t have answers — but because none of them feel simple. you shrug. “good in pieces.” he watches you for a second. not pushing, but not letting the question disappear completely either. you offer a half-smile. “i don’t think i figured anything out, if that’s what you’re asking.”

he nods. “i wasn’t.”

a quiet settles in again. and then he says suddenly: “i missed you.” with no hesitation. like the words had been sitting too long and couldn’t stay still anymore.

you really look at him. “i missed you too.”

his eyes soften again. he leans forward just slightly, elbows on his knees. “sometimes i used to wonder if i made it all up. that summer. the way we were. if i just remembered it better than it really was.”

you shake your head, sure. “you didn’t.”

“you were always in the back of my mind,” he says. “even when i didn’t want to admit it. especially then.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i thought about you a lot. more than i wanted to.”

you both sit in it for a moment — the weight of three years, of silence, of almosts that never got their ending. the kettle starts to hiss, soft and steady in the background, but neither of you moves. he leans back a little, one arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, his hand only inches from your shoulder now. “i thought maybe we’d bump into each other again. and i hated that. the idea that it’d take chance, not effort.”

“but you’re here,” you say, quiet.

“yeah.” he breathes out. “and i don’t want to leave this time without doing it right.”

you glance at him. “i don’t know what doing it right means,” you admit.

he smiles, eyes tired and full. “me neither. but we could try.”

you look down at your hands, then at his fingers brushing slightly against the fabric of the couch. your heart’s louder now. you nod, barely. “we could try.”

you don’t know when it happens exactly, the shift. maybe it’s the quiet. maybe it’s the way the room’s only lit by the soft glow of the lamp. maybe it’s the weight of his words still floating between you. but suddenly, you’re looking at him, really looking at him, and he’s already looking at you. his gaze doesn’t move — not to your hands, not to the floor like it used to when he got nervous. it’s steady now, like he’s memorizing something. like he doesn’t want to miss a single detail. your heart stumbles a little. and neither of you looks away, and the moment stretches. his knee is brushing yours. his hand still resting on the couch cushion. your whole body feels too aware of itself — your fingers, your lips, your throat. 

the kettle screams.

you both flinch, not much, just enough to break the spell, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“right,” you say, standing up quickly. “tea.”

he stays on the couch, watching you move across the room. you flick off the stove, pour the water into the mugs you grabbed earlier. you add honey to yours, then add some to his, too. you bring the mugs back, hand him his. he smiles when he takes it. that same crooked, tired smile you remember.

you sit again, curled into your side of the couch, feet tucked under you. “so,” you say, gently blowing over the rim of your cup. “rockstar life, huh?”

he really laughs, for the first time tonight. “i mean, it’s not exactly groupies and private jets,” he says. “sometimes it’s tuna sandwiches at truck stops and sharing hotel rooms with people who snore like they’re dying.”

you snort. “glamorous.”

“deeply.”

“do you like it?”

he thinks for a moment. “i do. most days. some days it’s exhausting. some days i feel like i’m just chasing noise.”

you nod, sip your tea. “do you ever get lonely?” you ask, quiet.

he looks at you. “yeah,” he says. “a lot more than i thought i would.”

you both finish your tea slowly, the conversation drifting here and there. small questions, quiet answers, tiny pieces of each other being carefully returned. it’s not like before. but it’s not not like before either. 

you place your mug down gently on the coffee table. he does the same. your hands brush. just barely. you start to move yours away out of instinct, but then you feel his fingers wrap gently around your wrist. you look up. he’s already looking at you again. his thumb brushes the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is loud. louder than you want it to be.

he leans in, not quite closing the space, but almost. “you still do that thing,” he says, voice low. “twist the sleeve of your sweater when you’re nervous.”

you glance down at your hand. he’s right. you look back up at him. his face is so close now you can see the faint scar near his eyebrow, the one from when jungwon pushed him off his bike in eighth grade. you could reach for him. you could close the distance. you could kiss him. 

you don’t move, not at first. you just sit there, watching him, feeling his hand warm against your wrist, his thumb brushing once against your skin like he’s asking something without saying it. the distance between you is nothing now, and he’s close enough that you can see the way his lashes fan downward, the faint crease between his brows, the softness in his expression that wasn’t there when he first stepped out of that car. his hand moves slowly, from your wrist to your jaw, fingertips grazing up the side of your neck. his touch is careful, your breath catches, and he feels it, you know he does, but he doesn’t stop. his palm settles against your cheek, his thumb resting just below your eye.

he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking down to your mouth, and then he leans in. his lips meet yours in a kiss that feels like an exhale, full of everything that’s gone unsaid. he kisses you like he’s afraid to startle you, like he’s still checking if you’ll let him stay. and you do, you kiss him back without hesitation, your hand moving to his chest like you need something to hold onto. his breath hitches and he shifts closer, legs brushing yours, the heat of his body pulling you in. his other hand moves to your waist, anchoring. you tilt your head, your lips parting under his, and that’s when the kiss deepens.

you feel him everywhere — in the way his thumb strokes your cheek, in the press of his chest against yours, in the gentle sound he makes when you pull him in a little closer. the world narrows. the couch disappears. the years fall away. there’s only him, only this, only the you falling into together like no time has passed at all.

when he finally pulls back, just enough to breathe, he doesn’t go far. his forehead rests against yours. your noses brush. his hand stays on your cheek. your eyes stay closed.

“i’ve wanted to do that since i saw you standing outside the diner,” he says, voice low, breath warm against your skin. “actually, since before that.”

you smile, overwhelmed, a little breathless. “i know.”

you open your eyes to find his already on you. wide, tender, shining. “i didn’t think i’d ever get the chance again,” he adds.

you reach up, fingers finding the side of his neck. “you have it now.”

and he kisses you again, no pause this time. his mouth finds yours with more confidence now, more feeling. the way you mold into him is instinctive, your hand slides up into his hair, his fingers spread across your back. the kiss is soft, but it’s not shy. every press of his lips says i missed you, every shift of your body says i’m still here.

his lips don’t leave yours for long. there’s no rush, but there’s urgency, not of time, but of want. of having waited too long and not knowing how to say it any other way. his hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. he shifts closer, his body pressing into yours with a kind of hesitation that disappears as soon as you don’t stop him. your knees bump. your hands move without thinking, gripping his shirt, pulling him closer. you feel the weight of him then — not just the physical, but everything he’s holding. 

he leans into you, and you lean back, and the cushions give under your weight as he gently guides you down, your back meeting the couch, his body following. he hovers over you for just a moment, eyes meeting yours like he’s asking again, silently, if this is okay. and you answer the only way you can: you pull him in.

his mouth finds yours with more fire this time. it’s still careful, still steady, but there's a heat now that wasn't there before, something that builds in the way he presses you into the couch, the way his hand finds your waist, the way he exhales against your lips. you feel the weight of his body above you, his knee slipping between yours, the warmth of him sinking into your skin. your hands explore him like you’re tracing something familiar and new at the same time — the slope of his shoulder, the nape of his neck, the muscles shifting under your palms.

he pulls back just slightly, mouth still close, breath catching as he looks down at you, and then he says it, voice low and rough and full of awe, “god, you’re so beautiful.” you inhale sharply, eyes locking with his. he kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. “always were,” he murmurs between kisses. his lips trail lower, grazing your neck, making your whole body tighten. “you don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispers.

your breath hitches. your fingers tighten around his back. he kisses you again, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are. every shift of his body against yours makes your skin burn in the best way. there’s something new here, a closeness that’s never been touched before, but was always waiting. you find it overwhelming, but it’s not scary.  his hands move to your hips, grounding you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go — like he couldn’t, even if he tried. his fingers dig in just slightly, and it sends a shiver through your body. you exhale, a soft, breathy sound you didn’t mean to let out, and he hears it.

he kisses you harder. his mouth pressing into yours like he’s starving for it now. you feel his tongue slide against yours and you moan softly into his mouth, and that’s when you feel his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, skin against skin, warm and steady and reverent. he groans when he touches you. low, like it’s involuntary, like just feeling you beneath his hands undoes something in him. you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently, messing it up in a way that makes him hiss under his breath. he leans into it, hips pressing forward, his body sinking further into yours, like he needs to feel you everywhere at once. his knee shifts between your thighs, pressing in. you don’t know if he means to do it or if it’s just instinct, but it sends a wave of heat through your core that makes your back arch slightly into him. you let out a breathless moan and your hips twitch without meaning to, and he feels it. his breath stutters, his hands holding tighter.

“fuck,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “you make the prettiest sounds.”

you let out another soft, shaky moan when his thigh presses in again, more deliberate this time, like he’s testing something, like he’s trying to see how far he can take you with just this. your head spins. his hands slide further up under your shirt, fingers spreading across your waist, his palms dragging up the bare skin of your stomach. you gasp softly when the cool air of the room hits the warmth of your skin, and he leans back just enough to look at you. his lips are parted. his eyes heavy and full of something dark and warm and wanting.

“can i take this off?” he asks, voice low, almost careful. “just your shirt.”

you nod, but it’s not enough — you’re already whispering, “yeah. yes. it’s okay.”

he lifts it slowly, his fingers brushing your ribs, the fabric sliding up over your head and landing somewhere behind the couch. his eyes drop to you, his gaze moving over your chest, your stomach, the way your skin is flushed and rising with every breath.

“jesus,” he breathes out, more to himself than to you. “you’re... fuck.”

you can’t look away from him. the way he’s looking at you, like he’s not sure if he should touch you or fall to his knees, makes your whole body ache. he leans in again, this time slower. he kisses your collarbone. the center of your chest. his hands still holding your waist, guiding you gently as his mouth maps a path down the center of you. your hips move again, and his thigh finds its place between yours, pressing up, grinding just enough to pull another sound from you, one that surprises even you.

“that’s it,” he whispers against your skin, one hand sliding up to cup your ribcage. “just like that. let me hear you.”

you feel it all. his body above yours, your legs tangled under him. the weight of his thigh against your center, the warmth of his mouth, the hands that can’t seem to stop touching you. you don’t know where this is going yet — not fully — but right now, it’s everything. right now, it’s his breath on your skin, your hands in his hair, your lips swollen from kissing him over and over again. it’s the years that fell away the second he touched you. it’s the way he’s looking at you now, like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.

his hands never stop moving, dragging along your sides, your stomach, and he leans back just slightly, just enough to take you in again, his eyes dark and full of something that makes your skin heat under the weight of it. his fingers slide up one strap of your bra and down your arm, until the thin band slips from your shoulder. he presses his mouth there immediately — warm kisses, one after the other, his lips brushing over the new skin, then he bites gently, just enough to make you gasp, and he groans at the sound.

you moan softly, helplessly, when his mouth gets close to your breast, and that’s when he stops. just for a second. he lifts his head and looks down at you, breathing heavy, his hands still firm on your waist.

“do you really want this?” he asks, voice low and serious.

you nod right away, then say it out loud, because you want him to hear it. “i’ve been waiting for this for a really long time, actually.”

his eyes flash, jaw tightening, like the words hit deeper than they should. he groans, low in his throat, and then he’s on you again, kissing your neck, your collarbone, and you feel his breath, warm and fast, as he speaks between kisses. “yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough. “what exactly have you been waiting for?”

you let out a breathy laugh, your fingers digging into his back without thinking, and whisper, “i was waiting for you to make me yours.”

he curses under his breath, something sharp and guttural, and you barely have time to react before he’s reaching behind you, tugging your bra down with a kind of desperation that makes your head spin. “fuck,” he mutters, eyes locked on yours. “i’m gonna make you mine, then.”

his touch changes — still gentle, but firmer now, more certain. he cups your breast like he’s wanted to for years, his thumb brushing your nipple before he leans in and takes it into his mouth. your back arches without meaning to, a moan slipping out of your lips as your hand flies to his hair again, pulling slightly, needing something to hold onto. he groans into your skin, the vibration making you shiver. his other hand slides under your back, supporting you, keeping you close. your hips roll instinctively beneath him, your legs parting more, needing more of him everywhere. your nails drag across his back, not too hard, but enough to make him breathe harder, to make him growl softly against your chest.

“so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “can’t believe you’re really here. can’t believe i get to touch you like this.”

his voice is raw now, every word soaked in years of longing and frustration and heat. and you’re melting under him, body buzzing, mind gone, skin on fire. his mouth is still on your breast, warm and wet, his tongue circling your nipple in slow, maddening strokes before he sucks it into his mouth again. and while he’s doing it, you feel him shift his hips down into you, slow and deliberate, grinding his hardness right where you need him most.

your whole body jerks in response, hips tilting up into him, a sharp, breathless moan leaving your lips before you can stop it. his thigh is still between your legs, but now his cock is pressing right against your core, even through the layers of clothing — and it’s too much, not enough, exactly what you’ve been aching for. he keeps moving his hips, slow, hard, dragging himself against you like he knows exactly how close you are to falling apart.

you whimper again, high and needy, your hands clutching at his shoulders, at his back, at anything you can reach. “jay,” you breathe, voice thin and shaky, “please.”

he pauses, not pulling away, just lifting his head slightly from your chest to look at you. his eyes are dark, pupils blown, lips parted and wet. “please what, love?” he asks, his voice low and rough and teasing. he knows. of course he knows. but he wants to hear it.

you stare up at him, completely undone and open. “i want you,” you whisper. “i want you so bad it hurts.”

his breath leaves him in a rough exhale, and before you can say anything else, his hands are on your waist, lifting you and pulling you up onto his lap, your thighs straddling him, your chest still bare against his flannel. you can feel how hard he is now, pressed right between your legs, and the friction makes your head spin.

he kisses you hard, deep and messy, all teeth and tongue and want, and then he pulls back just enough to murmur, “tell me where.”

you blink, dazed. “bedroom. down the hall. second door.”

he stands with you still wrapped around him like it’s nothing, like he was meant to carry you. you hold onto him, arms around his neck, mouth brushing his jaw as he moves fast, focused, straight down the hall. he kicks the door open gently with his foot and walks you inside, setting you down carefully on the bed like you’re something he doesn’t want to drop, like he’s still trying to be careful even when he’s about to lose control.

“fuck,” he breathes, eyes raking over you as he stands over the edge of the bed. “look at you.”

he crawls over you slowly, hands braced on either side of your head, and starts pressing kisses to your skin again — your jawline, your cheek, the soft space behind your ear, down your throat. every kiss is hot, open-mouthed, a little desperate. he whispers between them, voice hoarse.

“so perfect.”

“been dreaming of this.”

“can’t believe i get to have you like this.”

his hands roam over your ribs, your sides, your thighs. his body never leaves yours. every part of him is pressed to you, and you’re burning, pulsing, so far gone you can barely form thoughts. your fingers dig into his back, his arms, his hair, anywhere you can pull him closer. you moan again when he kisses the space between your breasts, grinding into you through his jeans, and he growls softly at the sound, kissing lower, biting gently at your hipbone.

“gonna make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers against your skin. “gonna take my time with you. finally.”

you arch into him, legs falling open wider, and he groans, pulling back just enough to look at you — all flushed and panting beneath him, your eyes glassy, lips kiss-swollen.

“you’re mine tonight,” he says, voice wrecked. “every inch of you.”

you nod, breathless, your whole body trembling. “i’m yours,” you whisper.

and that’s all he needs. he pulls back just enough to sit on his knees between your legs, breathing hard, his hands moving to the buttons of his flannel. his eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls it off slowly, letting the fabric fall to the floor beside the bed. underneath, there’s just a worn black t-shirt and you watch, wide-eyed and barely breathing, as he lifts the hem and peels it off too.

he’s lean, all muscle and sharp lines, but not in a showy way. more like someone who’s lived in his body, worked in it, played night after night with a guitar strapped across his chest. his stomach is tight, his arms strong, his collarbones prominent in the low light. and god, he’s beautiful. you swallow, your fingers twitching against the sheets, and he sees the way you react to him, the way your eyes move over every inch of his chest like you can’t help it. like you’ve been thinking about this too long not to stare now that he’s finally in front of you like this.

he smirks, just a little. not cocky. just knowing. “you okay, love?” he asks, voice low and teasing.

you nod quickly, your lips parting around a soft gasp when he leans down again, mouth ghosting over your collarbone. “you’re even better than i imagined,” you whisper, like it slips out before you can stop it.

he groans at that, something low and deep, and kisses you again, slow and hot and full of tongue, before he starts moving lower. his hands find your waist again, fingers sliding under the hem of your pants. he kisses your stomach once, just above the waistband, then looks up at you through his lashes.

“can i?” he asks, voice a little rough now, like he’s holding back.

you nod, and your voice is small but certain. “yeah. please.”

he hums like the answer physically affects him, and starts pulling your pants down slowly, dragging the fabric over your hips, your thighs, down your calves, until they’re gone. you’re left in just your underwear, legs spread for him, chest rising and falling fast, and he sits back for a second just to take it in. he lets out a sharp, helpless sound when he sees you.

“fuck, baby,” he says, eyes roaming. “look at you.”

his hands come to your thighs, thumbs brushing the inside where your skin is already hot and shaking. he leans in, kisses one side gently, then the other — slow, open-mouthed kisses to the softest parts of you, places no one’s ever touched the way he does now. his lips find the crease of your thigh, right where it meets your center, and you gasp, your hips jumping slightly. he chuckles against your skin, breath hot.

he kisses you through your underwear next, a soft press of his mouth right where you need him most, and it makes your entire body jolt. you whine, your hand flying to his hair, tugging lightly. he moans at the contact, at the scent of you, his nose pressing lightly against the fabric. and then he breathes you in, slow and deep.

“jesus,” he mutters against you. “you smell so fucking good.” his hands tighten on your thighs. he presses another kiss through the damp fabric, then another, dragging it out, letting you feel every bit of the tease. your hips roll again, trying to get more, chasing the heat of his mouth, and he just smiles. “fuck, baby, you don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he says softly, almost like he’s in awe. 

you can’t respond, not with real words, just a soft, shaky moan and your fingers digging deeper into his hair as he keeps kissing between your legs, building the pressure, praising you under his breath like it’s a prayer. your legs are trembling now, thighs twitching with every breath. he groans into you, deep and low, like he’s losing his mind just from being this close. then his hands slide up your thighs, slow and firm, curling around your hips as he pulls his mouth back just enough to look at you.

“can i take these off?” he asks, voice dark and tender at the same time, like he’s already halfway gone.

you nod fast, desperate, breathless. “please.”

he hums at the way you say it, like you’re giving him everything he’s ever wanted. and then, slowly, he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, and pulls. he watches as he drags them down your legs, never breaking eye contact for too long. he tosses the fabric aside without care, like nothing matters but you now, here, like this. his eyes drop to your core, and he groans, deep in his chest. “fuck,” he breathes. “you’re so wet already.”

your cheeks burn, but you don’t hide. you can’t, not when he looks at you like that, like you’re sacred. 

he kisses your thighs again, then lower. kisses your mound. kisses the soft skin right beside where you need him most. teasing, worshipping. and then finally he leans in and licks a slow, flat stripe from your entrance up to your clit. your whole body arches. your hand flies to his hair again and you let out a sound that’s not even a moan — just a desperate breath, cut short by how hard it hits.

he groans into you. “that’s it,” he murmurs, licking again, slower this time. “that’s what i wanted.”

his hands slide under your thighs and hold you open, steady, as he buries his face between your legs. his tongue moves like he knows you already, like he’s been dreaming about this for years — licking, sucking, teasing. he focuses on your clit in soft, steady circles, then moves down, tongue fucking you, groaning every time you moan for him. you can’t stop moving. your hips grind against his mouth, your thighs tense, your stomach pulling tight. and he just holds you there, letting you fall apart in his hands.

“you taste so good, baby,” he whispers between strokes. “so sweet. fuck.”

you whimper, fingers tangled in his hair, the pressure building so fast you don’t know what to do with it. he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t even slow down. his mouth stays on you, perfect and hot and overwhelming, his hands holding your thighs open as he works you open with his tongue. when you moan his name again, sharp and breathless, “jay—,” he groans like it physically affects him, like it’s the only thing he ever wants to hear again.

“that’s it,” he says. “say my name again. let me hear you.”

every movement feels intentional — like he’s learning what makes you whimper, what makes your legs shake, what makes you cling tighter to his hair and moan his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known how to say. his mouth is relentless, warm and wet and perfect. his hands hold you firm like you might slip away if he lets go. the coil inside you is tightening fast now, heat building between your hips, up your spine, down your thighs. your whole body arches into him, and he groans at the way you move against his mouth.

“you’re doing so good for me, baby. come on. let go,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. you gasp, your fingers fisting the sheets now, eyes squeezed shut, heart pounding. and then his mouth sucks your clit just right and your whole body shatters. the orgasm hits hard.

your back arches off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. your legs tremble, toes curling, thighs squeezing around his head, and he just keeps licking you through it, gentler now, helping you ride it out, coaxing every last bit of it from your body with his mouth. “fuck,” you breathe, over and over, your voice shaking.

he finally pulls back when you’re twitching, your body too sensitive, your breath caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh. he kisses your thighs again, affectionate, almost reverent, and then he sits up. his face is flushed, lips swollen, chin wet with you. he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. and then, slowly, he reaches down and undoes his jeans. you watch, still trembling, chest rising and falling too fast. your eyes follow his hands as he pushes the denim down his hips, revealing the outline of his cock through his boxers — hard, straining, undeniable. he kicks the jeans off, and then he just stands there for a second, breathless, staring down at you with something between hunger and awe.

he leans over you again, one hand braced beside your head, the other still at the waistband of his boxers, pausing for a moment as his eyes roam over your face, your body, your chest rising and falling from the high he just gave you. you meet his gaze, and there’s something new in it now — something softer than before. not lust, not quite. something closer to reverence.

“i’ve thought about this,” he says, voice low, breath shaky. “so many times. more than i ever should’ve.”

you reach up, your hand cupping his cheek, fingers brushing along his jaw, grounding him. “me too.”

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second. then he kisses you again like he’s trying to tell you everything he can’t quite say out loud yet. you taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into his mouth. he pulls back just enough to whisper, “i missed you so fucking much—” his hips grind against yours through the thin fabric still between you, “you. all of you.”

“i missed you too,” you whisper, and it comes out raw and honest.

he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck. then he finally pushes his boxers down, and you feel the heat of him against your thigh, thick, hard and heavy. you look down and your mouth goes dry. it’s overwhelming, in the best way — not just the size of him, but what it means. that he’s here. with you, like this.

he moves between your legs, settling into the space that always felt like his, and pauses. “you sure?” he asks again, his voice quieter now. steadier.

“yes,” you say, without hesitation. “please.”

he groans, and reaches down, running the head of his cock through your slick, coating himself in you. the pressure makes you gasp again, your hips twitching toward him, desperate to feel him where you’ve needed him most. he lines himself up, eyes never leaving yours, and then he pushes in slowly and carefully, letting you feel every inch as he stretches you open. your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your back arching, hands flying to his shoulders. he curses low under his breath, jaw tight, eyes squeezed shut for a second.

“fuck,” he breathes. “you feel like heaven. you feel... fuck, baby.” your fingers dig into him as he bottoms out, buried completely inside you, and he stays there for a moment — not moving — just breathing with you, forehead resting against yours. “you okay?” he murmurs.

you nod. “perfect.”

​​he starts to move, slow at first, with deep, steady thrusts that make your breath stutter with every roll of his hips. the friction is perfect, the heat between you unbearable. every sound he makes — every grunt, every whisper of your name — pushes you closer to the edge again. his hands roam constantly, like he can’t choose where to touch because he wants all of you at once. he kisses you between thrusts, muttering things into your mouth like so fucking good, and i missed you, and you were always mine.

you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper, tighter, and he groans like he’s breaking apart. his rhythm builds, his hips slamming into yours with more force, more urgency. it’s not rough, not careless, but it’s just that he needs this. needs you, every part of you, and you need him too. the sounds of skin and breath and moans fill the room, tangled with his name on your lips over and over again. “jay—fuck—”

he kisses you hard, messy and open-mouthed, his tongue sliding against yours as he pounds into you, the headboard knocking gently behind you, his hands everywhere. one grips your thigh, the other pressing into the mattress by your head. and then his hand moves up, fingers brushing your jaw, your lips, and you part them instinctively, letting him slide his thumb inside your mouth. he watches you as you suck on it, his eyes dark, mouth falling open. “jesus christ,” he breathes. “you’re... fuck.” 

you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb, moaning around it, and his hips stutter. he growls low, pulls it out, and brings that hand down to grip your waist as he fucks you harder and deeper, every thrust dragging against the sweetest spot inside you. “you feel so good,” he mutters, voice wrecked, barely coherent. “so fucking good. like you were made for me.” you cry out again, hips rocking to meet him, your nails raking down his back. your whole body tightens, thighs trembling, your second orgasm crashing close like a wave.

and then he says it, broken, breathless, true. “i loved you. all this time,” he gasps, pressing his forehead to yours, thrusts getting sloppy, more frantic. “i still fucking love you.”

you come undone with a cry — loud, raw, desperate. your whole body arches into him, clenching around his cock, dragging him down with you. you tremble under him, pleasure blinding, his name falling from your lips like prayer. he groans, deep and guttural, and pulls out at the last second, fisting his cock once, twice, before he comes with a growl, hot and thick across your stomach. he jerks in his own hand, breathing ragged, eyes locked on you as he spills everything onto your skin.

his forehead drops to your shoulder. his body trembles above you, he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your neck. “mine,” he whispers. “you’re mine. you always were.”

you hold him close, heart pounding, your legs still wrapped around his waist. and for the first time in years, everything feels like it’s exactly where it’s meant to be. you stay like that for a moment, his body heavy over yours, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, your breath slowly returning to something close to normal. your skin is damp with sweat, your chest still rising and falling too fast, and you can feel his heartbeat against your ribs, loud and unsteady.

he doesn’t move right away. just presses his lips once, soft, against your neck, then your collarbone, then rests his forehead there like he can’t bear to let go of the closeness just yet. you slide your fingers up into his hair, brushing it gently back from his forehead, and whisper, “we’re a mess.”

he laughs, low and breathless, and lifts his head enough to look down at you. his gaze moves to your stomach, the evidence of him still there, and he hums, a little sheepish. “let me clean you up,” he murmurs. you nod, and he leans over the side of the bed, pulling a crumpled t-shirt from your laundry basket nearby — one of his, you realize, from years ago, soft and faded. he uses it carefully, wiping your stomach, being gentle like you’re fragile now, like he’s still not done taking care of you.

you watch him the whole time. the way his jaw clenches in focus, the way his hands move. the way he keeps stealing glances at your face, like he needs to check if you’re still with him. and when he’s done, he tosses the shirt aside and settles beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. you turn toward him instinctively, tucking yourself against his side, your leg draping over his hip, your hand resting flat on his chest. he wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, almost afraid of the quiet that’s settled around you both.

you nod, pressing a small kiss to his shoulder. “more than okay.”

there’s a pause, and he shifts a little, like he’s trying to find the right words. his fingers trace slow circles on your back, his breath even now, steady against your temple. “i meant what i said,” he murmurs eventually. you blink, and tilt your head to look at him. “about loving you,” he says. his voice doesn’t shake, but it’s quiet. like he’s scared to say it too loud, scared it’ll disappear if he does. “i didn’t know how to carry it back then,” he continues. “but i still love you, even after all this time.” you don’t interrupt, you let him speak.  “it never stopped,” he says. “not really. i loved you when i was writing songs in hotel rooms. i loved you when i saw your name on old letters and had to stop myself from riding to your city. i loved you when i stepped out of that car and saw you again for the first time.”

he turns fully toward you now, brushing your hair behind your ear. “and i love you right now,” he says. “more than i know how to explain.” your throat tightens and your eyes burn. you reach up, touch his face, and trace the line of his cheek with your thumb.

“i love you too,” you whisper. “always did.”

he leans in then, kisses you slow and soft. nothing rushed, nothing hungry, just love.

just all the things you both kept to yourselves for years, finally allowed to be spoken in the quiet of your room, under soft sheets and the faint hum of the city outside. you rest your head against his chest again, and he holds you tighter. 

“can we stay like this for a while?” you ask.

he kisses the top of your head. “as long as you want.”

and for the first time in a long time, there’s no distance. no almosts, no waiting.

and he sleeps over that night. not because you asked, not because he asked. just because neither of you ever considered the alternative.

you fall asleep tangled in each other, your leg over his, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, his breath steady against your neck. his skin is warm, even under the cool sheets, and at some point in the night, he murmurs something — too soft to catch — but it makes you smile in your sleep. when you wake up, the sun’s filtering through the blinds in thin lines, and he’s already awake.

he’s propped up on one elbow, watching you, hair messy, smile soft. “good morning,” he says, voice low, raspy from sleep.

you blink slowly, stretch a little, and smile back. “hi.”

he kisses your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulls you closer like he doesn’t want to leave the bed — like he could stay like this forever. but he can’t, and you both know that.

“i should get back to the hotel,” he says eventually, eyes apologetic. “they’re probably losing their minds trying to find me.”

you sigh, nestle into his chest for one more second. “what time’s the last show?”

“tonight,” he says. “city next over. it’s the end of the leg, then we get a few weeks off.”

you nod slowly. “you can use the phone,” you say, sitting up, brushing your hair back. “i don’t think it’s been used in days.”

he grins. “i missed landlines.” he pulls on his pants and shirt from the night before, pads barefoot to the phone in the corner of your living room, dialing a number from memory. you hear him talk to someone — probably the security guy — laughing a little, apologizing, promising he’ll be down in twenty. when he hangs up, he walks back toward you, hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on the edges of your apartment like he wants to remember it exactly as it is. “they’ll be here soon,” he says, voice lower now. “i should go.”

you nod. try to smile, but it’s small. he watches you for a second. then steps closer. his hands land on your waist. his forehead rests against yours.

“come with me,” he says.

your heart stutters. “what?”

“just for the night. the last show. it’s nothing big. we’ll be back by morning. or—” he laughs softly, eyes still on yours. “we won’t. we’ll figure it out.”

you blink. “jay…”

“i know it’s sudden,” he says. “i know we haven’t figured out what this is. but i don’t care. i just want you there.” you hesitate. not because you don’t want to go — but because it feels big. because everything between you always has. he leans in closer, kisses the corner of your mouth. “come with me,” he says again. softer this time. “please.”

he looks at you, you look at him. and then you’re moving.

you spin around, nearly tripping over your own feet as you head to your bedroom, pulling open drawers, grabbing whatever you can — a pair of jeans, a toothbrush, your tape player. he laughs from the hallway, breathless, half in disbelief. “i’ll take that as a yes,” he calls out.

you yell back, “shut up and help me find my shoes.” he grins, already heading into your closet like he’s lived here forever. and just like that, you’re going.

before you leave, you scribble a note on the back of an envelope you found near the phone, the ink shaky from how fast you’re writing. you fold it in half and slide it under the mat by your door. 

yunjin, if you pass by here — went on tour with jay. just one night. back tomorrow. probably. maybe.

you don’t sign it. you don’t need to. she’ll know, and then you go. the drive to the next city is quiet at first. the windows rolled halfway down, your bag in the backseat, jay’s hand resting on your thigh the entire time. there’s music playing low on the radio — tom petty, bryan adams, someone you don’t catch — and the sky is the kind of gray that doesn’t mean rain, just distance. he looks over at you every few minutes like he still can’t believe you’re there. like he’s afraid to blink and find the passenger seat empty.

you get to the venue around three. the crew’s already setting up, cables and amps everywhere, the soundcheck halfway through. someone hands jay a setlist. someone else tells him where catering is. he keeps looking back at you like he’s trying not to lose you in the noise. you don’t get lost.

you follow him backstage, watch him tune his guitar, watch him run through scales absentmindedly with his eyes half on you. you sit on a speaker case and talk with one of the backup singers for half an hour about lip balm and tour food and how long the drives get between cities. you see the way the rest of the band looks at jay when he plays — the quiet respect, the ease, the way he’s earned his space up there. you don’t say anything. you don’t need to. and when the show starts, you watch it from the side of the stage. 

the lights are blinding. the bass shakes the floor. the crowd screams in waves, louder with every song. and he plays like he’s alive in a way you’ve never seen before, like every note is another word he doesn’t have to say out loud. you watch his fingers move across the strings, his head tilted back, sweat dripping down his temple. and all you can think is i’m so fucking proud of him. he looks at you once during a quiet moment between songs. you smile, he does too.

after the show, the band’s buzzing. half-dressed, towel-draped, beer-in-hand kind of buzzing. someone hands you both a drink. someone else tries to convince you to stay for another leg of the tour. you laugh it off. or maybe you don’t.

you end up in a hotel room around two in the morning. his guitar still in the corner, your makeup smudged, your voice a little hoarse from singing along. he presses his forehead to yours before you fall asleep, whispers, “you were my favorite part of today.” you don’t answer. you just kiss him.

the next morning, the world feels slower. the windows are fogged. the coffee tastes stronger. he sits on the edge of the bed, shirtless, one sock on, and glances at you like he’s thinking too hard. “you know,” he says, not looking up, “this could be a thing. you and me. doing this.”

you pull the sheet up over your chest, lean on your elbow. “you mean… shows? cities?”

he nods. finally meets your gaze. “yeah. if you wanted.”

you don’t answer right away. because maybe this was supposed to be one night. maybe you were supposed to go home in the morning. but maybe you won’t. you think about the noise, the lights, the music. about his hand on your thigh in the car. about his mouth on your skin the night before. about his voice saying “my favorite part of today.” so you look at him — hair messy, guitar pick still in his pocket, smile soft, and you think: maybe i could get used to this.

and your life changed a little after that day. not in the kind of way that people notice from the outside, not right away, but something shifted. you came back home feeling different. lighter, like someone who finally let herself say yes, like someone who wasn’t afraid of living anymore.

you graduated two months later. your cap didn’t sit right on your head and your gown was wrinkled from the car ride, but none of that mattered. not when you saw him in the crowd, leaning against the back railing, sunglasses on, biting back a grin when you caught his eye. he didn’t bring flowers. he brought his car. you hadn’t packed a bag. he didn’t ask if you wanted to go, and you didn’t ask where.

you watched a concert in a city you never thought you’d see, slept in a motel with pink walls and a broken ice machine, woke up to him humming something under his breath while brushing his teeth, one hand tangled in your hair like he couldn’t believe you were real. sometimes you went alone. just you and him. sometimes you brought a friend — yunjin once, who danced side stage like she’d been doing it her whole life, who whispered he’s so gone for you, you know that, right? into your ear after the show, and kissed your cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

sometimes you both passed through home. once, you and jay picked up jungwon for a weekend. no plan, just his overnight bag and your mixtape in the stereo. you ended up at the coast. jay let jungwon drive for part of the way, and you both screamed when he almost missed the exit. you slept three across in one bed, your feet tangled, your ribs hurting from laughing. jay played guitar on the porch of the tiny rental, barefoot and happy, and jungwon fell asleep with popcorn in his lap. 

no one talked about what it meant, but everyone felt it anyway.

you started carrying a small bag in the back of your closet, just in case. a toothbrush. a sweater. a cassette or two. he’d show up sometimes without warning, always leaning against the doorframe like he’d never left. “thought we could drive,” he’d say. and you’d go, you always went. you weren’t following him, you weren’t chasing anything. you were just there together making it up as you went along. saying yes to the kind of life that didn’t always fit in lines or schedules or plans. but fit him, and it fit you.

fit this version of love that moved, and stretched, and stayed. the summer blurred like that. with half-packed bags and gas station snacks, and hotel keys that never worked the first time. with sweat on your skin and his songs in your ears. with soft hands and sleepy grins and “come here” whispered into your neck in the backseat of his car at rest stops. with your feet up on the dashboard, and his fingers tracing your knee at red lights. it wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

you got used to the rhythm. not just of the music, but of the life. sleeping in unfamiliar beds. brushing your teeth in gas station bathrooms. ordering breakfast in diners that smelled like the seventies and played the same four songs on repeat. you stopped asking where you were. stopped keeping track of state lines. stopped needing to define what you were doing. but you weren’t trying to escape anything, you just didn’t need to stand still anymore.

some mornings, you woke up to the sound of his guitar in the other room, already strumming something into shape. other mornings, he was still asleep, one hand wrapped around your waist, his face pressed into your shoulder like you were the softest thing he’d ever touched. there were fights, too. about timing, about exhaustion, about space. sometimes he shut down. sometimes you disappeared into the crowd before the encore. but every time, you found your way back. not with apologies, always — but with hands reaching in the dark. with quiet dinners. with the word stay whispered into your hair.

you made friends with the crew. with the other musicians. you had your own backstage pass, but mostly you stayed out of the way. you read books in the greenroom and  you painted your nails on the tour bus floor. you stole his hoodies, of course. you took pictures you never printed. and in every city, he kissed you like it was the first time. you never asked what would happen after the tour ended, and he never offered a version of forever. but something in you both knew that this, whatever this was, had already become part of your bones.

one night, after a show in a city that felt too loud even in the fading hours, you and jay found yourselves driving back to your hometown. not just a quick visit, but the kind of week where time stretches slow and familiar. you needed a break from the tour, from the noise. the car hummed softly down the old roads you both knew by heart. the tour bus felt miles behind you, like a distant memory. the car was small, just enough space for both of you and a couple of guitars resting in the backseat. you didn’t say much, but the silence was easy and comfortable. jay hummed a melody low enough that it was more felt than heard, his fingers tapping softly on the steering wheel like it was another instrument. you reached over and squeezed his hand without thinking, and he glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips, like he’d been waiting for that all night.

when you arrived at your parents’ house, your mom opened the door, and the second she saw you, her eyes welled up with tears, of course. your dad, teased as always, “didn’t think you’d grow at all while you were gone.” and even though it was the same old line, you could tell he meant every word, his voice warm with relief. jay stood beside you, shifting awkwardly at first, but your parents welcomed him like he’d been part of the family forever — not just jungwon’s best friend, but the one who made their daughter smile in a way they hadn’t seen before.

the days that followed were a patchwork of memories and new moments stitched together. you went back to the park where you and jay had found each other again after you left for college, trying to make sense of everything that had changed. the diner where you’d shared late-night fries and whispered secrets during winter break, the neon sign buzzing softly overhead, still humming the soundtrack of your youth. you stood by the lake where the sky had caught fire the night of your first kiss, the water reflecting the soft glow of twilight. and then there was his childhood bedroom, tucked away in the basement of his parents’ house, walls still lined with posters, a guitar resting against the bed, and a window that looked out onto the quiet street. you remember the night he played “just like heaven” on his guitar there, fingers trembling with a mix of nerves and hope. it was before he left for college, before the silence stretched long between you. that song, that moment, stayed in your chest like a promise, one you both carried through the years.

that week, wrapped in the comfort of old places and quiet laughter, felt like a pause in the endless moving. a chance to remember where you came from, and to hold on to the pieces that made you whole.

and sometime in late october, you were at a city on the coast, windy, a little gray. the venue was old and charming. he was quiet that day, but not distant, just thoughtful. kept checking his setlist and tapping his pick against his thigh. didn’t talk much in soundcheck, and you knew better than to push. you watched from the wings, your arms crossed over your chest, the laminate pass hanging loose around your neck. and when they got to the second half of the show, the part where they sometimes rotated songs in or out, someone leaned over and told you he was going to do something different. you didn’t know what that meant, not until he stepped forward, a little closer to the mic, and looked out at the crowd like he was looking for something in it.

“we’ve been on the road for a while now,” he said, voice steady. “and this next one’s not ours. but it’s always been… mine. in a way.”

you felt it before he played the first chord. your breath caught in your throat. he glanced sideways, just once, just for a second, and then he started playing.

“show me, show me, show me how you do that trick…”

and your heart cracked wide open. because just like heaven wasn’t just a song, it was your song. from the very beginning, from that spring you thought you’d lost him, from mixtapes on train rides, from letters tucked into jacket pockets. from him playing it for you in his childhood bedroom, dreaming of what it’d feel like to be wanted the way those lyrics wanted someone.

you left the venue late that night, your hand in his, your cheeks still warm, your chest still aching in the best way. and no one said “the end” because no one needed to. some stories don’t end when the lights go down. they end quietly, in moments like that: in a guitar string still vibrating, in a look across the stage, in the memory of a song you never stopped hearing.

and in the way you still felt like heaven to him. always.

author's note: first of all… i’m so sorry for taking forever to update this 😭 life got busy, motivation disappeared, my brain shut down for like days, you know how it is. but we’re BACK and i’m so, so happy i finally got to share this part of the story with you

writing this second half felt like coming home in a nostalgic and painful and soft way. i always knew i wanted this fic to feel like growing up, and getting older, and realizing that love doesn’t always disappear just because time does, it just shifts. and maybe, if you’re lucky, it comes back <3

thank you for reading, screaming, crying, waiting, messaging, and just being here. this fic means the world to me. if you made it this far ilyyyyy!!!! you are the moment <3

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