#fondness and sorrows au

[ane-doodles]

Catalog of lambs launched towards you

These four are the ones that have been going round in my head not letting me work in peace… but I love them

Anyway, thinking about them de-stresses me… questions? please? pretty please?

[ja3yun]

Our Life | P.JS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this day a little more bearable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They get that from you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

And then his eyes land on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like you’re placing yourself home in his heart.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you respond, intrigued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And if I say no?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants to make you this happy forever.

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

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

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

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

In more ways than one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the truth behind your words hits deeper than you let on. You know someone like Jongseong is rare, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of soul. The universe doesn’t often gift the world people like him so easily, and yet here he is, standing before you, having planned the most thoughtful evening you’ve ever experienced. It feels like a miracle, like some kind of cosmic alignment that allowed you to meet him.

Jongseong, ever so sweet, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Oh, you will," he says with a soft shake of his head, a playful yet sincere smile tugging at his lips. "Because I’m going to take you on dates bigger and better than this."

His words settle in your chest, a gentle promise that fills you with an almost dizzying sense of happiness. He’s not just thinking about tonight; he’s already imagining the future - your future together. What you don’t know is that during the mini-concert, as the singer’s voice crooned through the air, Jongseong was secretly planning the next date, and the one after that, and the next one after that one, and so many more. In his mind, he’s already picturing you both years down the line, holding hands when you’re old and grey, still laughing, still sharing moments like these. He’s jumping the gun here but that’s how much he wants you in his life, no, needs you in his life.

You reach up, your hand cupping his face, your thumb gently stroking the cool surface of his cheek. His skin feels smooth under your touch, but there’s a warmth beneath it, a warmth that spreads from him to you. "How about I plan the next one?" you offer, the words carrying a weight of confirmation - you want more. More moments like this, more laughter, more adventures. More him.

Jongseong’s eyes light up, his heart swelling with happiness. "Deal," he says, his voice low but laced with excitement. His gaze, however, drifts lower, his eyes falling to your lips. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with a new kind of energy. He’s no longer just thinking about the next date; he’s thinking about now. The urge to kiss you swells inside him, consuming his thoughts. He wants to feel your lips on his, to communicate the emotions he hasn’t been able to fully express with words. His pulse quickens as he realises just how close you are, how easy it would be to lean in, close the gap, and make this night even more unforgettable.

You sense his desire, and a matching one blooms within you. Your heart beats faster as you step closer, rising onto your tiptoes. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you press your lips against his.

The kiss is soft at first, a delicate brush of skin against skin, but it carries the weight of all the unspoken feelings between you. Jongseong stills for a moment, his breath catching as he savours the sensation of your lips on his. There’s a gentleness in the way he kisses you, a quiet reverence as though he’s afraid to break the spell. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, but never rushes. Each movement is careful, slow, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell.

Your body tingles with warmth, a soft hum of pleasure spreading through you as you kiss him back. The world around you fades into the background—the quiet murmur of the river, the distant buzz of people - all of it disappearing as you lose yourself in the moment. His lips are warm and inviting, moulding perfectly to yours as though they were always meant to fit together. It’s sweet and unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world to explore the depth of this feeling.

As the kiss lingers, you feel the intensity of his emotions bleeding through, each press of his lips a silent confession. He’s telling you, without words, how much he’s already fallen for you. How he’s imagined a future with you, a lifetime of nights like this one. There’s a vulnerability in the kiss, an openness that makes your chest tighten with something more than affection. It feels like trust, like promise, like everything you’ve ever wanted but didn’t know you needed.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingles with his in the cool night air, your lips tingling with glee. His eyes are still closed, savouring the aftertaste of the kiss, as though he’s replaying it in his mind, etching it into his memory.

You both stand there for a moment, soaking in the adoration that seems to swirl around you. The Han River, mixed with the lights of the busking, and the love in the aire from the other couples, you feel it, all so immensely. Something has shifted. This isn’t just the start of something new - it’s the beginning of something deeply powerful. Something neither of you can quite put into words yet, but both of you feel it. It’s in the way he looks at you, in the way your lips just met, and in the way your hearts are already intertwining, bonding you to him for a lifetime.

Pulling himself away from the moment, Jongseong opens his eyes and grins down at you, kissing your forehead, desperate to keep his lips on you in some way. “Ready for the next one?”

“Oh, Absolutely.” Your answer is so self-assured and confident, there is no apprehension in your tone, only sheer enthusiasm to spend every waking minute with him.

Jongseong feels the same way, maybe even more than you. And he can’t wait for the day he gets to tell you how he fell in love with you in this moment.

_____

Laying in Jongseong’s bed, you slouch lazily against his headboard as you lose yourself in the words on your Kindle. The paragraphs of The Handmaiden grip you, pulling you into their twisted world, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside you - a cocktail of disgust, hope, fear, and love. Love especially lingers on your mind, but little do you know that someone beside you is feeling that emotion just as intensely, perhaps even more, because the reason for his swirling heart is real and currently wearing his AC/DC t-shirt.

He stares at you engrossed in your book and for some strange, inexplicable reason, his chest feels tight and the pressure behind his eyes hurt, like he is a bottle of coke and there is a packet of Mentos just landing inside his soul.

"I fucking love you so much," Jongseong says suddenly, his voice soft yet undeniably passionate, carrying a depth that cuts through the silence of the room like a bolt of lightning. His body language or facial expression doesn’t change, in fact, the feeling has been inside of him for so long that speaking the words into fruition doesn’t change a thing about him. 

You freeze, the words on your screen blurring as your mind tries to process what you just heard.  Did he really say that? Maybe you misheard him. “What?” you ask, turning your head to face him, and once you see the sincerity in his face and the fire in his eyes, your heart begins to race, and your question is answered.

“I love you,” he repeats, more pointed this time so you know there is not even a wiggle of doubt, his eyes locked onto yours with a look so sincere it leaves you breathless. “More than my heart or my chest can hold in.” 

His confession takes you completely by surprise. It feels so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment, you’re left speechless. You knew he cared deeply for you - his actions and gentle gestures have always spoken louder than words - but hearing it now, on a random Wednesday night, three months into your relationship, when you were just lounging in his bed, didn’t seem like his style at all. 

And you were right, Jongseong was always the one for grand gestures, for perfectly planned moments. He wanted to tell you over a candlelit dinner, complete with a big speech about all the reasons he fell for you, fighting the urge to tell you on your very first date. But he knew his feelings, he couldn’t deny them nor did he ever want to, however, maybe blurting out ‘I love you’ when he didn’t even know your favourite colour was a bit quick, so he decided to wait for the perfect moment, which he had guessed would be planned.

But there’s something so genuine about this moment - him saying it while you’re here, wearing his oversized t-shirt, your glasses perched on your nose, so absorbed in your book that you didn't even realise he was watching you. There’s no grand setup, no orchestrated plan - just pure, unfiltered feeling. Sometimes, you don’t need a big, fancy gesture; sometimes, the love is enough.

His hand reaches out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His touch pulls you in, makes you forget about everything else except him and the love reflected in his eyes. Somehow, he looks even more beautiful than he did 10 minutes ago.

You place your Kindle to the side, giving him your full attention, and clasp his fingers with yours, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse under your touch. “You love me?” you whisper, almost as if saying it too loudly might shatter the magic of this moment.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his voice as easy as breathing, because that’s exactly what it feels like to him. Falling in love is supposed to be scary and daunting, placing your heart in the palms of someone who could break it with one wrongdoing is enough to put people off giving and receiving the emotion. But Jongseong? He would give you every part of his body for you to keep hold of - for you to own. You are everything he needs in life, the only person he would start a war for, he trusts you completely; he has never felt anything this strongly before. 

Your chest feels like it’s suddenly desperate to connect with his, to close the gap between you both and merge yourselves as one whole being. His words sink into you, filling spaces you didn’t even know were empty. 

With a shaky breath, you hold back a tiny sob, the aura in the room too overwhelming for your heart. But not overwhelming enough to stop you from saying how you feel. “I love you too, Jongseong,” you confess, your voice trembling slightly, but not with uncertainty - rather with the sheer intensity of the truth.

He looks at you, searching your face for any hint of doubt. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, but it’s just the slight thread of insecurity in being so vulnerable with someone. "You mean it? You aren’t just saying it out of obligation? Because you do-”

You interrupt him, squeezing his hands tighter. “I mean it. More than anything else that has ever left my mouth. I love you.”

A Cheshire smile breaks across his face, bright and unrestrained. He grabs your face in a rush, his big hands enveloping your cheeks as he begins to pepper kisses all over your face - your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, every inch of skin he sees squished between his palms - until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Jongseong!” you squeal, your laughter infectious, and thus he keeps going, pinning you down gently, his weight warm and secure over you, his lips finding every spot that makes you laugh even harder until your sides hurt. This is what love is supposed to feel like, childlike and free, just as you two always are.

You are in love. So incredibly in love.

When he finally stops, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I will love you until my dying breath, Y/N L/N,” he promises, his voice low and solemn. The serious current that accompanies the joy in his voice tells you all you need to know, instilling you with confidence that this man means every word and every emotion he is pouring into you.

A grin spreads across your lips, and you can’t help the heartfelt response that tumbles out: “I’ll love you until we’re food for the worms to eat.”

Your morbid but romantic description makes his heart thump, his expression turning even brighter. He laughs, a rich, melodic sound that fills the room, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you like you’re the only girl in the world. “Had to one-up me, huh?” he jokes.

“You know me, always one step extra,” you tease, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt.

The kiss starts slow, tender - a soft press of lips that speaks of newfound confessions and the quiet promise of forever. His lips are warm, moving gently against yours, and you can feel the way his breath hitches like he’s savouring every second, every little brush of skin against skin. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging slightly, eliciting a low, rumbling groan from deep within his chest.

The kiss turns heated, a spark catching flame as his hands slide down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. He slots his body between your legs, his hips situated on yours as his member hilts against you. Your legs spread wider to let him fully lay on top of you, your boyfriend’s heart kissing your own with each beat.

His lips part, deepening the kiss, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. The world around you blurs; all you can feel is the heat of his body against yours, the way his lips mould perfectly with yours, and the electric current that courses through you with every touch, every breath. 

Jongseong’s hand grips your hip, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver, and his lips move with a hunger that matches the rapid beat of your heart. He’s pouring everything into this kiss - all his love, his need, his promise - until you’re both breathless and burning with a desire that you never want to end.

The kiss breaks for just a moment, enough for both of you to catch your breath and him to discard your t-shirt, but Jongseong’s lips don’t leave your skin for long. His forehead rests against yours, and the two of you share a lingering moment of closeness, eyes locked, hearts pounding in sync. There’s an unspoken understanding between you, a shared desire that flows in the charged air between you.

With a soft, almost reverent touch, Jongseong begins trailing kisses along your jawline, slow and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing every inch of your skin with his lips. Each kiss is a whisper of warmth, igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through your body. You tilt your head back, giving him access, and he doesn’t waste a second. His mouth continues its descent, moving down to your neck where he plants open-mouthed kisses, his tongue brushing lightly against your pulse point, causing a shudder to run through you.

His hands, warm and steady, explore the curves of your body as he works his way lower, lips grazing the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He lingers there for a heartbeat, nipping gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on, and he responds with a low growl that reverberates against your skin, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

Jongseong shifts, his lips now trailing down to the valley between your breasts, each kiss more purposeful, more heated than the last. His breath is hot, his touch sure, and every movement, every press of his lips, leaves you aching for more. You arch your back, pushing yourself into him, craving the sensation of his mouth on your body.

As he continues his descent, kissing lower and lower, until he is at the band of your panties, his breath fans across your skin, and the anticipation builds with every second, every soft press of his lips against you.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he murmurs between kisses, his voice thick with adoration.

You giggle, hiding your face at the chanting confession. You can’t believe a man so perfect is in love with you. Gently, you run your fingers through his hair and pout down at him, “I love you, too.”

The words brush down your torso and into Jongseong’s ears, eliciting a smile from him. That is all he has wanted to hear, from the moment he met you. He knows love like this is precious, and he never intends to waste it.

Carefully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and pull them down, your legs instinctively opening, showcasing your bare, glistening pussy for your boyfriend to see. It’s delicious, succulent, and all entirely for him to devour.

"So fucking pretty," he whispers, sending chills down your spine. The room feels hotter as he settles between your legs, tongue poking through his lips oh so teasingly to wet them, your clit weaping for attention. He does this to you a lot, makes your body react in ways it never has before, even after your first date you felt your panties soaking more and more to the point you dragged him into your dorm room and fucked him. 

Was it a smart idea to fuck a man on the first date? Not usually, but you knew from that day that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him so, what was the harm in some fun?

Kissing your clit, Jongseong looks up to watch you as he always does, loving the way your face conveys the pleasure you feel. Even the simplest of touches has you under his mercy. As he begins to lap at your core with his tongue, you can't help but clutch his hair, your fingers tangled in the strands as you grind into his face. Your back lifts from the bed as you seek even more pleasure.

Overcome with how you taste, he doesn’t even register your fingers in his hair, pulling at it harshly when he circles your clit with his tongue. You’re so wet as he slurps you up but there’s so much it’s dripping onto his chin. It serves as motivation to keep going, to pleasure you as much as possible, to show you how much he wants to devour you, both body and soul.

Jongseong doesn’t get pussy drunk with girls, but he does with you. Addicted to the taste and smell of you, he just wants to rub himself all over you, covering himself in your slick as if to scent him, like you’re both wolves in some ABO universe.

“Don’t stop, Jongseong,” you groan out, the backs of your feet digging into his back as you pin him down as best you can, signalling to him your need for more. 

Smirking at your desperation, Jongseong’s tongue runs itself along your entrance and it makes you buckle, pushing his head in further. He continues his effort, making you a panting mess. His tongue was a gift from God and you’ll need to thank the big man later when you meet him for blessing you with a sex-god boyfriend.

A sex-god boyfriend who is in love with you.

Dipping his tongue in a few times helps him gauge how tight you are, seeing how much prep he needs to give you before he can fuck his love into you. As if reading his lewd thoughts, he feels your pussy squeezing, his tongue taking advantage and swirling around to hit more circumference of your walls. 

“I can’t wait to be inside of you, baby. To show you how much i really love you.”

It’s funny that he thinks sex would showcase his love any more than his eyes and heart already do. You know he loves you, you might have been shocked at how abruptly he said it tonight, but you’ve always known. It’s in the way he kisses you, how he cooks dinner for you even after long days, and it’s in how he would give up anything to see you happy.

Your clit is suddenly being simulated by his nose, it poking at it slightly the more bountiful he inserts his tongue. It feels otherworldly, “Jongseong, s’good, so good, fuck,” Your fingers harshly massage his scalp as you wiggle, close to cumming.

He knows it too, you’re dripping so much it’s leaking over half of his face. It’s so fucking hot how you’re a mess like this, just for him, only for him. Jongseong switches his tactics, lips now encircled around your clit and sucking harshly on it, the new sensation causing you to cry out, a new wave of your juices dripping down his chin and onto his bedsheets 

And just a few seconds later, you’re coming undone. 

Jongseong, ever pleased with himself, cleans you up with his tongue, sucking up the slick that’s flowing form your hole and drinking it greedily. You taste so good he could spend hours down here. But unfortunately, and selfishly, he needs to fuck you. Right here, right now.

Wiping your essence from his mouth, Jongseong crawls up over your body, placing gentle kisses up your torso, past your heaving chest, and back to your lips. He stares at you with something deep in his iris’, a promise that he will always make you feel this inspired, this gleeful, and never cause you any harm. 

When you’re so in love with someone, all the emotions come with it. And while you both encompass the very being of adoration and love, sometimes that red that represented your passion for one another, turned into a shade none of you liked.

_____

Your heels slam against the tiled floor of the hallway as you march through the dimly lit corridor of your apartment building, the sound echoing like the beating of a war drum. Every step sends a jolt through your aching feet, but the pain is nothing compared to the simmering rage boiling in your veins. You fumble for your keys, hands trembling with a mix of exhaustion and fury, the metallic clinking of the keyring mocking your every failed attempt. When you finally manage to fit the key into the lock, it sticks, just like it always does. You curse under your breath - a small, infuriating reminder of the list of things that should have been fixed, but like so many other things lately, were neglected.

You give the door a sharp push, the old wood groaning in protest as it swings open, the gust of night air brushing over your flushed skin, cooling the anger that’s blazing just beneath the surface. Without thinking, you slam it shut behind you, the force sending a jolt through your arm as the door rebounds off something - or rather, someone. Your boyfriend. The door collides with his face, eliciting a pained grunt as he catches it just in time to prevent further damage.

“Really, Y/N?” he groans, rubbing his jaw where the door had made contact. His voice is strained, more exasperated than angry, but it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

You toss your clutch onto the nearby table with a careless flick of your wrist, the sharp clatter slicing through the tense silence. Kicking off your shoes with more force than necessary, you whirl around to face him, your vision clouded by a searing flash of red-hot anger. You know you should apologise, at least for the door, but the apology sticks in your throat, smothered by the bitterness that’s bubbling up like a storm ready to burst.

Raking your fingers through your hair, you grip tightly at the roots, desperate to hold onto something, anything, to stop yourself from unravelling completely. “I don’t even want to look at you right now,” you spit, voice thick with venom, every word dripping with the weight of betrayal. Your expression twists into one of pure disgust as if just the sight of him is enough to set you off all over again.

You spin on your heel, determined to escape, but before you can make it to the sanctuary of your bedroom, you feel his gentle grip on your elbow. It’s a light touch, but it might as well be ironclad, and despite every fibre of your being screaming to pull away, you find yourself turning back to him, drawn by a force you can’t quite resist. You wish you could fight it - fight him, fight this magnetic pull that always seems to reel you back in - but your heart, traitorous as it is, weakens at his touch.

His eyes are steady, calm even, but the way his jaw tenses betrays the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. You can see the flicker of frustration in the tightness of his clenched teeth, but it’s not directed at you; it’s aimed at the mess that’s wedged its way between the two of you, threatening to tear apart everything you’ve built together. He’s not angry with you, not even a little, but you can see the weariness in his gaze - the weight of a thousand unspoken words hanging between you like a fog.

“Too bad, because I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We’re talking this out right now,” he says, his voice low but firm. He is not letting you stew in this mess, he hates the way your brain works, how it overthinks for hours, creating a mountain out of a molehill when he knows that one simple conversation can solve all problems.

He does fear that this might not be solved with a quick debate and kiss. This is going to take more than that.

You yank your arm away, swallowing the painful lump forming in your throat as you catch the brief flash of hurt in his eyes, like a knife twisting deeper. “Oh, sorry,” you snap, sarcasm dripping from your words, the sound bitter in your mouth. “What would you like to discuss first? The fact that you embarrassed me in front of my entire family and ruined my sister’s engagement party, or the fact that you punched my dad?”

Each word leaves your lips like a punch, each accusation sharper than the last. You watch as his calm exterior fractures, his eyes flickering with a cocktail of regret, anger, and something you can't quite place. The room feels like it’s closing in, the air heavy with the weight of things said and unsaid, as the silence between you sharpens, poised to snap at any moment.

Jongseong flinches, his expression flickering for a moment, the crack in his composure barely visible but unmistakable to you. He’s always been so unshakable, so infuriatingly composed during moments like this, and for a split second, you see the vulnerability beneath the mask - the guilt, the pain, the anger at himself. But he quickly steels himself, his gaze locking onto yours with a resolve that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You think I wanted that to happen?” he shoots back, his voice low and rough, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping it steady. His eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, as if searching for some kind of understanding in the sea of your fury. “You think I planned to lose it like that? That I wanted to make a scene in front of your whole family?”

His words hang heavy in the air, every syllable a plea for you to see him, to see the mess of emotions churning inside him, but all you can feel is the sting of humiliation, the sharp edge of betrayal slicing through your chest. 

The scene replays in your mind like a broken film reel, each frame more painful than the last. Your father’s slurred words, the way Jongseong’s posture stiffened, the moment things spiralled from heated words to fists flying. You remember the sickening thud of your father hitting the ground, the horrified gasps, and the wave of whispers that rippled through the room. Your heart had dropped to the floor along with him, and in that split second, everything had shattered - your sister’s engagement, your mother’s fragile composure, and the image you’d built of the man you loved. You can still hear the murmurs, each one laced with judgment, each one a knife twisting deeper.

Your dad has always been a kind man at heart, but the bottle changes him into someone unrecognisable, a man who lets the worst parts of himself spill out. You remember the nights as a child, hiding in your room while your parents fought, your mother’s angry voice telling him to sober up or get out, how he would vomit over the living room floor and have no recollection of it in the morning. It’s those memories - the helplessness, the fear, the shame - that have kept you from ever picking up a drink. 

You vowed never to touch the stuff, never to let alcohol turn you into someone altered, and Jongseong understood that about you from the start after you trusted him with your memories. He made the promise to you that night, quitting the moment you told him how much it meant to you, swearing he would never touch another drop again. You didn’t ask him too, he simply did it because that’s how much he loves you.

You step back, folding your arms across your chest, a protective barrier against the storm brewing between you. “You punched my dad, Jongseong!” you shout, your voice cracking under the strain of holding back tears. “You humiliated me in front of everyone. My mom was crying, my sister - God, do you even know what you did to her tonight? It was supposed to be her moment, and you ruined it!”

He steps forward, reaching out as if to touch you, to comfort you, but you take another step back, the distance between you widening. The urge to let him hold you, to fall into his arms and let the weight of tonight melt away is so strong it hurts, but you can’t. Not yet. Not when everything is still so raw, so jagged.

Jongseong breathes out and calms himself, “Listen to me,” he steps forward once again and he’s relieved that you don’t move. “I should not have acted like that, and that is what I am sorry for. But I will not let a man who has caused you so much pain talk about you like you are less than what you are. As long as my heart is beating, even when it stops, I will protect you from anything and anyone. I do not care if it’s family, or a stranger, or even yourself. You mean more to me than any other person on this planet and if I think for a second your heart is in danger, I am willing to do anything to protect it.”

His words hang in the air, raw and intense, vibrating with a passion that cuts through the tension like a blade. His gaze is locked onto yours, unwavering, filled with a fierce, almost desperate determination that pulls at something deep inside you. He’s closer now, just a step away, and you can feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with the cold ache of your own heartbreak. For a moment, all the noise in your head quiets, leaving only the thundering rhythm of your own heartbeat and the weight of his promise.

The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as the intensity of the moment settles around you. You’re torn between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the undeniable pull toward him, the man who’s both your solace and, tonight, your greatest source of pain. Jongseong’s words are like a salve, and though they don’t erase what happened, they start to soothe the jagged edges of your hurt. You can see the fear in his eyes - fear of losing you, of becoming the person you’ve always dreaded. There’s a vulnerability in him now, raw and unguarded, and it stirs something soft within you.

You take a deep breath, letting the tension drain from your shoulders, just a little. Your grip on the anger loosens, and the tight knot in your chest begins to unfurl, replaced by a slow, tentative warmth. Your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out, but you keep them at your sides, not quite ready for the full embrace of forgiveness but open to something gentler, something that feels like understanding.

“Jongseong,” you start, your voice quieter now, less a weapon and more a tentative bridge. “I know you meant well. I know you were trying to stand up for me. But you have to understand… that’s not what I need. I don’t need you to fight for me like that. I don’t need you to get angry on my behalf. I just need you to be here, to help me feel safe. Not like…” You trail off, your eyes dropping to the floor as you fight to find the words. “Not like this. We’ve been together for 5 years now, I told you my dad has his moments like this and as a family, we all chose to stick by him and support him, for mum’s sake. He is trying and sometimes he slips. Punching him and lashing out because he said some stupid shit he won’t remember in the morning isn’t the answer, it’s not what I want from you.”

Jongseong’s expression softens, the fierce determination in his eyes giving way to something deeper, more regretful. Honestly, he hates that you’re all so kind to a man who has caused you grief and misery your entire life, but you, your mum, and your sister are the kindest souls in the universe, it’s in your nature to see the good in people. Jongseong wishes your dad saw you all that way too, rather than taking advantage of the chances you give him.

He steps closer, his hand finally making contact with your skin and you instantly calm, the weight of his palm on your cheek grounding you. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he repeats, his voice breaking slightly, carrying the weight of his remorse. “I know what I did was stupid. I still don’t regret it,” he admits, his honesty ringing clear despite the regret in his tone. “I’d fight anyone who tried to hurt you, physically or emotionally. That’s how much you mean to me.”

You look up at him, the tears you’d been holding back now spilling freely. His confession doesn’t erase the pain, but it does offer a window into his heart - a heart that, despite its flaws and mistakes, beats fiercely in your defence. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between his protective instincts and the reality of his actions.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice quiet but unwavering. “I know you’d do anything to protect me. But if we’re going to be a family - when we get married - you’ll be part of all this. You have to understand that. You have to respect my mum and dad’s needs.” Your words are a bridge between your love for him and your love for your family. “If you can’t do that, then I can’t let you be a part of their lives. I need you to know that.”

Your voice trembles slightly at the weight of what you’re saying, and the look in Jongseong’s eyes shifts. He doesn’t speak right away, but his silence is filled with understanding. You can see your words land like stones in his chest, the gravity of your family’s importance settling in. He knows how much they mean to you, and the unspoken warning lingers: if he messes this up again, there’s no way forward. The very thought of a future without you sends a ripple of fear through him. He’s never imagined that possibility because, to him, there is no option. He won’t let it happen.

His stomach churns at the idea of losing you, but his hope brightens as you say ‘when we get married’ rather than ‘if’. “I’ll do better, Y/N. I promise, I’ll support you in whatever way you need me to.” His shoulders drop slightly as if conceding to the truth you’ve laid bare between you. “You’re strong. I should’ve known that, and I’m sorry for not trusting that strength.” His remorse is palpable, and you can feel the weight lifting slightly from your chest, the anger and hurt that had clouded your mind beginning to dissipate.

The room seems to settle, the tension slowly dissolving into something calmer, something more manageable. You look up at the man you love, really look at him, and see how much he truly cares - how deeply he regrets what happened, not just for you, but for everyone. His eyes are sincere, remorse shining in their depths, and for the first time since the night began to spiral, you feel a sense of peace.

You exhale, your own apology forming on your lips as the fog of anger clears from your brain. “I’m sorry too. For lashing out, for hitting you with the door…it was childish. I shouldn’t have acted like that.” A flush of embarrassment heats your face, the shame of your actions making you feel small.

Jongseong reaches up to rub his jaw, faking a wince, and thankfully, the playful gesture lightens the air between you. “Nothing a kiss can’t sort out,” he teases, his lips quirking into a small, pouting smile, trying to bring a bit of levity to the conversation.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Let’s just make sure we don’t cause a fiasco at any more engagement parties, okay?”

Jongseong chuckles slightly, his grin widening as he tilts his head. “What if it’s at ours? Do I get groom rights to cause chaos then?”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you play along. “Well, you’d have to propose first for me even to consider that.”

Jongseong’s eyes twinkle with mischief and that same love that has always projected through from his soul as he leans in, lowering his voice to a playful whisper. “Just you wait, baby.”

_____

The heavy wooden doors of the chapel creak open, and Jongseong straightens his suit jacket, his fingers smoothing over the fabric of the black suit you had so carefully picked out for him. It’s tailored to perfection, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a sleek fit at his waist. The crisp white shirt underneath feels a little too tight around his collar, not because of the fit, but because of the sheer enormity of the day. He inhales deeply, gathering all the breath he knows he’ll lose the second he begins his walk down the aisle.

At 34 years old, he’s finally getting married, and it still feels surreal. Even this morning, as he stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting his tie, it all felt more nerve-wracking than he could have imagined. His hands trembled slightly, not with doubt but with anticipation. It isn’t cold feet - far from it. Marrying you is the most certain thing he’s ever felt. In fact, the only thing weighing on his chest isn’t whether or not he’s making the right choice - it’s the fact that, for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not by his side.

Last night, the night before your wedding, was the longest you’ve spent apart in years. You’d stayed with your sister, following the superstition that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the ceremony, and while it seemed trivial at first, Jongseong missed you more deeply than he ever thought possible. Since that party so many years ago, he’s spent every moment he could by your side, and now, after sharing a home, building a life together, the thought of you not being there in his bed last night left an ache he hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t the marriage that was causing him anxiety. He couldn’t wait to marry you—to say the vows, to see you in your wedding dress, to call you his wife. No, what had his stomach in knots was the thought of walking down the aisle with all eyes on him. The idea of being the centre of attention, of every gaze following his every move, from the ball of his foot to the tip of his toes, made his skin crawl. Even as a kid, Jongseong hated being the focus of a room. 

You’d always been the one to handle social situations with grace, navigating crowds, talking to guests, and subtly keeping the two of you out of the spotlight when he needed it. God, he wished you were here right now to hold his hand and whisper something to ease his nerves.

But of course, you weren’t. Tradition had stolen you away from him this morning, and now, he had to face this moment alone. The chapel, though filled with friends and family, felt overwhelmingly empty without you by his side. His heart pounded harder in his chest as the reality of the moment hit him.

Suddenly, the soft notes of music swelled from the organ, pulling him from his thoughts. It was the cue the wedding planner had told him about, the signal that it was time for him to make his way down the aisle. He stood still for a moment, nodding to himself as he acknowledged what lay ahead. The attention, the eyes on him, the anxious fluttering in his chest - it would all be worth it the second he saw you at the other end of the aisle.

With a deep breath, he steps forward. His polished black shoes make a quiet click against the stone floor of the chapel, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. Jongseong’s gaze flickers up briefly, catching sight of familiar faces in the pews. His mother, sitting proudly near the front, offers him a warm, reassuring smile. He tries to return it, but it feels stiff, nerves still crawling beneath his skin. His father gives him a subtle nod of encouragement, and Jongseong straightens his back, feeling the weight of their support behind him.

As he continues to walk, the scent of lilies and roses, the same ones you picked out together for the ceremony, fills the air. Sunlight streams in through the stained-glass windows, casting vibrant colours across the chapel floor - deep reds, purples, and golds dancing around his feet like blessings from above. He hears the faint rustle of fabric as guests turn their heads to watch him, but he keeps his eyes forward, focusing on the path ahead.

His palms are sweaty, and his pulse quickens with each step. The aisle feels impossibly long, like a steep hill with a drinking fountain waiting at the top. The rows of guests stretch on and on. Jongseong fights the urge to tug at his collar, to loosen the tie just a bit, but he knows it won’t help. Nothing can calm the storm inside him except you.

But as he nears the front, something shifts. The nervousness, the anxiety of being under watchful eyes, begins to ebb away, replaced by something else. Anticipation. Because just after this walk, after these few moments of discomfort, comes you. The love of his life. His future.

He greets your family with fondness and love as he reaches the end. Each one has become integral to his life, the definition of his second family. Jongseong's smile softens as he approaches them and offering a slight bow in respect. 

His future mother-in-law is sitting to the side, her eyes filled with warmth. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, fingers intertwined, though her expression is calm and composed. She has always been a strong presence in your life, and he feels the same quiet strength radiating from her now. She nods to him, her lips curving into a gentle smile that puts him a little more at ease. There’s a silent understanding between them - one forged through shared moments, family dinners, and heart-to-heart talks that had transformed Jongseong from a visitor into a son.

Standing next to your other bridesmaids is your sister, fidgeting slightly with the lace of her dress, her excitement palpable as the number one supporter in this relationship. She beams up at him, her eyes twinkling. She’s always been the one to bring lightness into any room, to ease tension with a well-timed joke or a teasing comment, and seeing her now, vibrant and full of life, reminds him of all the times she’d teased him for being so nervous about today. Her laughter and encouragement had helped him through many anxious moments, and her unspoken support right now is a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed.

They are his family now, just as much as his own parents sitting a few rows behind, and knowing that fills him with a sense of belonging.

Jongseong takes his position at the altar, trying to shake off the nervous tension building inside him. His friend Sunghoon is already there, waiting with a grin that’s equal parts mischief and pride. Sunghoon, who had been there for every milestone in his relationship, claps him on the back. It's surreal for both of them; after all, it was Sunghoon who dragged Jongseong to that dreadful party where you first met. Sunghoon had refused to let Jongseong skip it, even though Jongseong had dramatically declared he’d rather run naked through a field of nettles than attend. Now, Sunghoon stands by his side, proud of the role he played in bringing you both together and wearing the title of groomsman like a badge of honour.

"You look like you're about to get married," Sunghoon teases, laughter dancing in his voice. From where he stands, Sunghoon sees his best friend transformed. Jongseong’s usual cool demeanour is present, but there’s a deeper layer today - one of anticipation and raw emotion. His usually steady hands are clenched slightly, his jaw a little tighter than usual. Sunghoon notices all these small signs, but underneath them, he can see that Jongseong is just waiting to call you his wife, the need to call you Mrs. Park is what’s making him shake.

"Yeah? Too overdressed?" Jongseong jokes, trying to mask the nerves that refuse to leave him completely.

"Just a little," Sunghoon nudges him playfully. His smile fades into something more sincere. "You ready?"

Jongseong takes a deep breath before responding, his voice quiet but confident. "I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready in my life." He ignores the whispers and murmurs from the crowd, sounds he can't quite decipher. Will they be bad? Probably not, but that doesn’t stop his brain from trying to twist them into something else. What if they all think you’re settling? Still, he pushes it all aside, focusing on the one thing that matters: you.

He is so excited to see you. You had kept everything a secret - your dress, your hair, even down to your nails. He had tried every trick in the book to get even the smallest detail out of you, from sweet persuasion to playful pestering. He’d casually ask while you were busy with wedding plans or playfully guess what colour you might be wearing, trying to gauge your reaction. Each time, though, you would just smile coyly and shake your head, refusing to give anything away. Jongseong had groaned in mock frustration, but deep down, he knew it would be worth the wait. He was absolutely certain you’d look breathtaking, no matter what. You always look like the most beautiful person in the world, like the earth around you, only blooms to keep up with your beauty.

Sunghoon grins, breaking Jongseong’s thoughts. "I saw her earlier, y'know. Tried to talk her out of making a massive mistake." His tone is light, there’s no mistaking the fondness in his eyes. Sunghoon had actually visited you before the ceremony, not to convince you of anything, but to tell you how happy he was that you had come into Jongseong’s life. He had joked that he wanted a child named after him, but beneath the teasing, he was sincere. He told you how lucky he felt to witness true love up close, to see two people so in sync that it was like watching a real-life fairytale.

For Sunghoon, it was like one of the bedtime stories he read to his daughter, tales of love that transcended everything else. Sometimes, when he read those stories, his mind would drift to you and Jongseong, imagining the two of you as the characters destined for each other. Even his wife is amazed by the connection you share - two people who fit together so effortlessly that it was hard to believe. Sunghoon and his wife love one another so much, but they can recognise that you and Jongseong’s love is once in a lifetime, and they learn so much from you.

"Yeah? How did she look?" Jongseong asks, his voice tinged with hope. "Nervous? Cold feet? She’s definitely coming, right?"

Sunghoon throws his head back, laughing loudly, the sound echoing through the quiet church, eliciting some confusion on the faces of the guests. "She looks way out of your league, but no, she’s not nervous. She’s ready. In fact, she told me to let you know that you should cry when you see her. If you don’t, she’s marrying Jake instead."

Right on cue, Jake, the other groomsman, pops his head over Sunghoon’s shoulder with a wide grin. "And I will marry her in a minute, so you better get those waterworks going."

Jongseong can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. But he knows you’re serious about the tears. Your man is not one for crying, he rarely feels the need for tears, but he has a sneaking suspicion you’re going to get your wish.

The music starts, and Jongseong stiffens, his heart slamming against his ribs as if it’s trying to escape his chest and rush down the aisle to meet you. It’s only been a night since he last saw you, but to him, it feels like an eternity. The shared bed had felt too big, too cold without you beside him, and in that quiet space, he realized just how much you completed him. He missed you, and though it might seem dramatic, the longing reminded him that this wasn’t just about nerves. It was about the indescribable excitement of committing himself to you, completely and forever.

He had wanted to do this years ago, perhaps two years into your relationship rather than waiting twelve. But you had been the practical one, insisting that you both build your careers, settle into life without the added pressure of a wedding. He hadn’t minded too much; after all, what was a few more years when you had forever to spend together?

As the soft strains of music fill the chapel, Jongseong freezes. It’s an original piece - the one he had composed for you way back in the beginning of your relationship. The ballad, a quiet testament to the love he held for you even then, was something he’d never expected to hear today. Each note flows seamlessly into the next, blending together like the way his love for you has always been: fluid, effortless, natural. 

For him, loving you has never been complicated. It’s as though the melody was written not just with the keys of the piano, but with the strings of his heart. The tears, which you had so eagerly asked for, begin to gather at the corners of his eyes.

Then he sees you.

You appear at the end of the aisle, and his breath catches. Words escape him because they’re not enough to describe how radiant you are. The light from the stained-glass windows dances across your white gown, making you look as if you’re wrapped in sunlight itself. The lace of your dress hugs your figure delicately, each intricate detail shimmering as if woven from the stars. Your veil, soft as gossamer, floats behind you, catching the gentle breeze that filters through the open chapel doors. Your eyes, bright and full of love, meet his, and in that moment, Jongseong knows - if ever there was perfection, it is you.

Your beauty is beyond anything he could have imagined, like a dream come to life. You are the embodiment of every love song, every poem, every whispered promise. As you walk toward him, it feels like time slows, like the world pauses to let him savour every second, every step. You are grace personified, and all he can think is how lucky he is that this is real, that you are his.

Beside you, your father walks proudly with his arm linked through yours. His face shines with pride, his entire being glowing with joy. Jongseong feels a surge of pride for him as well. Their relationship had a rocky start, but now, four years into his sobriety, your father has become someone Jongseong admires deeply. 

The way you and your family never gave up on him taught Jongseong valuable lessons in patience, compassion, and what it means to truly love someone through their struggles. Watching your father today, standing tall and proud, Jongseong knows that all the hardships were worth it. He understands now that loving someone through their demons isn’t easy, but it’s something only the most special people can do - and you are one of those people. You have made Jongseong a better man, and he is and always will be eternally grateful for that.

When you and your father finally reach the end of the aisle, Jongseong’s breath hitches as he sees you up close for the first time. He’s lost for words, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. The tears that had gathered in his eyes finally spill over as he gazes at you. Your smile is so bright, most likely happy at his reaction, and he suddenly feels like his heart is trying to burst through his chest just to meld with your own; he is so privileged you hold his heart this way.

“You look…” he starts, but the words catch in his throat.

“Like I’m ready to be your wife?” you finish with a teasing smile, your voice warm and steady.

Jongseong shakes his head, his voice cracking with emotion. “Like my everything.” 

The way he says this, so pure and genuine, your smile falters just ever so slightly, your face now wanting to express an earnest love, the kind of expression you only look at the love of your life with.

Your father, watching the exchange, beams with satisfaction. There’s a tenderness in his expression as he shakes Jongseong’s hand, pulling him into a firm embrace. “I know you’ll look after one another,” your father whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud to call you my son.”

The words settle deep within Jongseong’s heart, and when your father steps back to take his seat, the ceremony begins.

As the officiant begins speaking, his voice soft but clear, Jongseong can’t help but marvel at how your hand fits so perfectly in his, your fingers warm and familiar, yet somehow new, in this moment. Every word that spills from the officiant’s lips feels like background noise; all Jongseong can focus on is you. The way you stand before him, radiating beauty and calm, is enough to make his heart swell to the point of aching. You squeeze his hand softly, pulling him back to the present. His thumb brushes over your knuckles in response, a silent message of reassurance, of love. It feels as if the two of you are existing in your own world, tethered together by this secret moment amid the hum of the ceremony.

Even in a room full of people, he will always only see you.

He glances at your face, catching a fleeting look of emotion dancing in your eyes, and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms right there. You’re holding it together so well, but he knows you too well. The slight tension in your grip, the way your breath catches every now and then - it all betrays the storm of emotion beneath the surface. And it matches his own.

When the officiant calls for the vows, Jongseong inhales sharply. This is the part he’s been waiting for, and yet, the part that terrifies him the most. Not because he’s unsure, but because there’s so much to say, so much love to express, and he hopes he can convey it all with the right words.

He turns to face you, both of your hands now clasped together. He can feel the slight tremble in your fingers, mirroring the nervous excitement coursing through his own veins. The vows - this is where he gets to tell you, in front of everyone you both love, just how much you mean to him. But even as he opens his mouth, his heart beats in time with yours, each pulse echoing a silent promise of forever.

Clearing his throat, he pulls the paper from his suit pocket, calming himself.

“Y/N. I should start by saying how in love I am with you. I think it’s pretty obvious, I don’t think my heart is even mine anymore with the way you hold it. I remember the first time I ever saw you, so bored and begging to be saved from that god awful party. But it’s funny if you think about it because I didn’t save you from anything at all, you saved me - in more ways than I could ever thank you for.

You are my heart, soul, courage, fear, wonder, and love. I am you and you are me. ‘Love is a condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.’ I remember hearing that quote and never fully knowing what it meant. But since we are two people sewn together with the thread of fate, I began to understand that for me to be happy, to live in this world without regret or misery, I need to make sure I love you with every fibre of my being, to make sure you’re happy, safe, and cherished until the very end.

So today, my love, I vow to love you exactly as you are. I vow to protect you, not just from the world, but from any doubts or fears that ever try to steal your light. I vow to be the one who stands by your side when life feels too heavy, to hold you when you need comfort, and to celebrate with you when life brings you joy. I promise to love you on the days when life feels effortless, but more importantly, I vow to love you even harder on the days when it’s not.

I promise to cherish the smallest moments, the quiet mornings and the late-night talks, the laughter and even the silences that only we understand. You have made me a better man, and every day with you feels like a gift I don’t deserve, but one I will never take for granted.

I vow to never let a day go by without reminding you just how much you mean to me. To wake up every morning and choose you, choose us, over and over again. I vow to be your protector, your partner, your best friend, and your greatest supporter. Whatever life brings our way - whether it’s joy or challenges - I will be there, by your side, holding your hand through it all.

And above all, I vow to love you endlessly, fiercely, and without reservation, because you are my heart’s home, and there is nowhere else I would rather be.

Today, tomorrow, and every day after, I am yours. Forever.”

As Jongseong finishes his vows, his voice steady yet laced with emotion, you feel tears slip down your cheek. Despite your best efforts to stay composed, the overwhelming love in his words makes it impossible to hold back. You mourn the people in the pews who don’t get to experience Jongseong’s love because it is unfiltered and pure, the love people dream of and never have. He watches you closely, his eyes softening the moment he notices your tears.

Without missing a beat, Jongseong reaches up, gently brushing away the tear with the pad of his thumb, his touch as tender as his words. His fingers linger for a moment, his smile growing fond and warm as if he’s silently telling you that it’s okay, that he’s here, and that he understands how deeply his words have touched you.

Jongseong leans in just slightly, close enough for you to hear him whisper, "Maybe I should have vowed to never make you cry." His playful tone does little to hide the way his own eyes glisten, the deep emotions brimming just below the surface. 

Your lips tremble into a small smile through your tears, feeling both overwhelmed and reassured by the way he’s looking at you - as though you are the most precious thing in his world. And in that moment, you realise, you don’t have to hold anything back. You’re standing here, with the man who will cherish you for the rest of his life, and there is no need for composure, no need to hide the tears or the love that pours from you so naturally.

The officiant gives a gentle nod, signalling it’s time for your vows, but Jongseong keeps his gaze on you, his hand still cradling your cheek as if to give you strength. His smile never falters, and in his eyes, you see nothing but encouragement, affection, and a quiet promise that he will be right here, every step of the way.

You take a deep breath, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold your vows, and the room quiets in anticipation. You glance at Jongseong, your heart swelling as you realize you’re about to marry the love of your life, the man who has been your everything for so long.

“I kinda wish I went first now,” you laugh softly, stepping back to wipe your tears, earning a round of laughter from the guests. Even Jongseong chuckles, his eyes full of warmth, and the pressure lifts just a little as you prepare to speak from the heart.

“I really can’t believe I’m standing here today, two seconds away from becoming Mrs. Park. Though, let’s be real - I’m never going to be the best Mrs. Park. That title is clearly reserved for your mum,” you say with a playful smile, looking over at Jongseong’s mother. She places a hand on her heart, her eyes shining with affection, and nods back at you.

“Jongseong, standing here before you feels like a dream I’ve had my entire life. It feels like everything in the universe has led me to this moment, to you. You are my heart, my home, and the one person who makes the world feel safe and beautiful just by being in it.

People think a soulmate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soulmate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. And you have changed my life Jongseong, so beautifully so. I am more confident, resilient, and passionate about my life because I have you beside me. 

There is so much love inside my body that is only reserved for you. Love is the reason we all continue to live, even through tragedies and heartbreak, we seek love in all of those moments because it’s worth living for. Jongseong, you make life worth living.

I vow to honor you with every beat of my heart, to cherish you with every breath I take. I promise to stand by you in every season, to be your unwavering support when the world feels heavy, and your biggest cheerleader when you need encouragement. I will hold your hand through the trials and celebrate with you in the triumphs, always knowing that together, we can face anything.

I vow to love you as deeply as the ocean, to be your steadfast anchor when the waves of life try to pull us apart. I promise to nurture our dreams, to build a life filled with wonder and discovery, and to always remember the simple, profound joy of being together.

You have taught me that love is not just a feeling, but a practice - one that grows and deepens every day. It is in the way we laugh together, the way we support each other’s dreams and the quiet moments when we simply hold each other close. I promise to practise this love with you, to make it a living, breathing part of our lives, one that we can carry into the afterlife and know that even if our bodies are apart through death, our hearts are always linked.

I want to be a wife who deserves you, one who never takes you for granted and gives you back tenfold the love you have for me, and God knows your love is vaster than anything else in this world. You are my heart’s truest song, and I vow to be the harmony to your melody, the gentle refrain that sings of our forever. I promise to be patient, to listen, to understand, and to always come back to you with an open heart.

Jongseong, today and every day, I choose you, not just as my partner but as my greatest adventure, my greatest joy, and my deepest love. Together, we will write a story that is uniquely ours, filled with love, laughter, and a bond that only grows stronger with time. You are my most cherished muse, wholly and completely.”

As you finish your vows, your voice quivers with emotion, and the room seems to collectively hold its breath. Jongseong’s eyes glisten with tears of joy and admiration as he kisses your forehead, his touch is tender and reassuring, and he smiles at you with a look of pure, unadulterated love. The room sighs with appreciation, moved by the heartfelt exchange.

The officiant, his own eyes misty with the beauty of the moment, clears his throat to address the couple. “Having heard these vows of unwavering love and commitment, it is now time for us to proceed with the ring exchange.”

Jongseong and you gaze deeply into one anothers eyes, the ceremony reaching its most poignant moment. The officiant gestures to Sunghoon, who steps forward, holding the rings with great reverence. With a knowing smile, he hands the rings to Jongseong, who looks at them with a sense of awe. This is it. 

“Jongseong,” the officiant prompts, “please place the ring on Y/N’s finger and repeat after me.”

Jongseong’s voice is steady but filled with emotion as he recites the traditional vows, “With this ring, I thee wed. It is a symbol of my love and devotion, a promise to cherish and honour you all the days of my life.”

As Jongseong slides the ring onto your finger, you feel its weight - a tangible representation of his love and commitment. You repeat the same words to him, your hands slightly trembling with the depth of your feelings.

The officiant smiles warmly at the couple. “May these rings be a constant reminder of the love you share and the vows you have made to each other.”

With the rings exchanged, the officiant addresses the gathering. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Jongseong leans in, his gaze locked with yours, and the world seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. His lips touch yours with a tenderness that is both electrifying and soothing. The kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of affection, but it quickly deepens into something more passionate and heartfelt. His hands cradle your face, his thumbs gently brushing along your cheekbones, anchoring you both in the intimacy of the moment.

The warmth of his breath mingles with yours, and as the kiss unfolds, it feels like a dance - delicate and full of emotion. Jongseong’s lips move with a tender urgency, conveying the depth of his love and the gravity of the vows you’ve just exchanged. There’s gentle pressure, a shared promise in the way his mouth moves against yours as if he’s pouring all the love he holds into this one kiss.

The chapel’s applause and cheers seem distant, fading into the background as you’re wrapped in the warmth and sweetness of Jongseong’s kiss. His fingers gently trace the curve of your jaw, adding a touch of reverence to the moment. You can feel the thrum of emotion in every touch, every caress, as if he’s imprinting this perfect moment onto both of your souls.

As you slowly pull away, Jongseong’s eyes are filled with a mixture of joy and reverence. The intensity of the kiss has left both of you breathless, your hearts racing with the shared exhilaration of this new chapter. His gaze holds yours with profound happiness, and you see in his eyes the same depth of feeling that you’ve always known was there.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N,” Jongseong confesses with more earnestness than you have ever seen in one human being. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to swear in church,” you giggle, pecking his lips to rid him of the sin.

But he’s unbothered, his emotions outweighing etiquette. He shrugs and takes your hand in his. “I think the big man upstairs will forgive me this one time.”

As Jongseong takes your hand, the two of you walk down the aisle together, the applause from your friends and family echoing through the chapel, though it now feels like nothing more than a distant murmur. His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, and every glance he steals your way is filled with an overwhelming sense of love and pride. The weight of the moment lingers sweetly between you, as if you’re both walking on air.

Once outside, the soft sunlight bathes you both in warmth, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. This is everything you could want. 

Jongseong, ever the gentleman, jogs to reach the car first, dramatically pulling the door open with a playful grin. “After you, Mrs. Park,” he gestures with a flourish, eyes turning into sweet crescent moons as the light beams from him.

You raise an eyebrow and chuckle at his antics. “You’re enjoying this, huh?”

“Can’t help it,” he winks, guiding you gently into the car. “I love how it sounds on my tongue,” he leans down until he’s level with your face, “Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park, Mrs. Park.” 

He will repeat it until he gets bored of hearing it, which will be never and a day.

As you settle into the seat, he quickly slips in beside you, and before the door is even shut, his lips are on yours again, more urgent this time. The kiss deepens with a fervour that wasn’t quite there at the altar, and you can feel his restraint fading. He pulls you closer, his hand resting possessively on your waist, as if he’s making up for all the time he spent holding back earlier - he would have gone all in but something about tonguing you down in front of a priest and about 30 of your closest friends and family didn’t sit well with him. His lips move hungrily against yours, each kiss more intense than the last.

You let out a soft moan in response to the sudden heat, and Jongseong smirks into your mouth, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, but not before brushing his lips teasingly against yours once more. The car starts moving, but his focus is entirely on you. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his breath coming in shallow, heated bursts. The playful glint in his eyes returns as he taps the driver on the shoulder.

“Could you take us back to the hotel for a quick pit stop?” His tone is mischievous, eyes twinkling with intent.

You blink in surprise, your thoughts returning briefly to the chaos of the wedding day schedule. “But…we need to get our certificate signed, take pictures…the reception?” You eye him curiously, though a part of you already knows where this is going.

Jongseong just shrugs, utterly unbothered. “That can wait a minute. Do you have any idea how hard it was not having you last night?”

His words send a ripple of heat down your spine, and despite your initial protest, a smile tugs at your lips. “It was one night, Jongseong,” you laugh incredulously, though you know deep down you shared his struggle. There’s a certain magnetic pull between you that’s only intensified since the moment you exchanged vows.

But before you can say anything else, his mouth is on your neck, his lips trailing heated, deliberate kisses along your skin. He finds that spot just beneath your ear, the one that always leaves you breathless, and you melt into him instantly. Your earlier concerns about timing and schedules vanish, replaced by the undeniable, almost primal need for him.

Every touch, every kiss, is fuelled by the weight of the day’s emotions, and soon you’re lost in him entirely, giving in to the desire that’s been simmering between you. From love to passion, your relationship flows seamlessly between them.

Jongseong’s kisses are searing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and any remaining thoughts of the day’s schedule fade into nothing. His hands grip your waist firmly, pulling you closer as you feel the heat building between you both. The car ride blurs by in a haze of stolen kisses and whispered promises, the tension growing heavier with every touch.

Before long, the car pulls up outside the hotel, and Jongseong barely waits for the driver to open the door before he helps you out, his grip on your hand tight, his thumb brushing your wedding ring with fondness despite the heat pumping through him. 

The hotel lobby is a blur, neither of you paying attention to anything around you as he tugs you towards the lift. Once inside, his mouth is back on yours, pushing you gently against the wall, his body pressed up close, a low groan escaping his lips.

The moment the doors open to your floor, you’re both stumbling down the hallway, hands roaming, clothes being tugged at impatiently. The urgency is palpable, as if every second spent not touching is a second wasted. By the time you reach the room, Jongseong fumbles with the key card, barely able to keep his lips from yours as he finally pushes the door open.

You stumble inside together, the sheer size of your wedding dress catching between you as you attempt to navigate the small space. Jongseong laughs softly into the kiss, but neither of you cares as you pull at each other, the weight of your emotions taking over. His hands work swiftly to find the buttons and zippers hidden beneath layers of fabric, and you can feel his need for you in every motion.

Your lips part briefly, just long enough for you to gasp out between kisses, “We need to be quick, baby.” Your breath is ragged, your voice barely above a whisper, but the desperation in your tone mirrors his own.

“Quick…right,” he mutters, though there’s no sign of him slowing down. His hands are everywhere - your waist, your back, your hips - gripping and pulling as though he can’t get enough of you. He presses you up against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours again, deeper and more urgent than before.

As you pull him closer, the fabric of your dress rustles and tangles between you, but it only adds to the delicious mess of the moment. His hands slip beneath the lace, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs, making you gasp. He smiles against your lips, that same playful glint in his eyes, but his kiss is nothing but intense.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of fumbling, Jongseong’s fingers work the last clasp on the back of your dress. The fabric slips from your shoulders, and the sensation of it gliding down your body makes you shiver. He steps back just slightly, allowing the gown to pool at your feet, his eyes following every movement with hungry intensity.

The moment he sees you standing there in nothing but the white lace lingerie beneath, his breath catches, and a flicker of pure desire ignites in his gaze. His hands, which had been so impatient before, now pause in reverence, as though he’s taking in every detail, committing this moment to memory.

“God,” he breathes out, voice thick with awe and hunger. “You’re fucking perfect, have i ever told you that?”

His words send a wave of warmth through you, your heart racing even faster under the weight of his gaze. Before you can respond, his hands find your waist again, pulling you to him. His lips crash against yours, the intensity of the kiss somehow even more fervent now that there’s nothing between you but the thin lace of your thong and his trousers.

His fingers trace the delicate patterns of the fabric, teasingly brushing over your skin in a way that makes your pulse quicken. His lips move from your mouth, trailing down your jawline to your collarbone, then lower, each kiss deliberate, driving you wild with anticipation.

“Jongseong…” You gasp, your body reacting to every touch, every kiss. The urgency from before still lingers, but there’s something deeper now - a need not just for passion, but for connection. The feeling that you’ve finally, truly become his in every way.

He smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the way your body responds to him, his hands sliding over the lace as though he can barely restrain himself, feeling how wet you are for him. His lips find yours again, but this time slower, deeper, as if he’s taking everything in, the moment, you, all of it.

“Quick, right?” he teases softly between kisses, but there’s now no rush in his movements now. The two of you are lost in each other, and any notion of time or urgency is forgotten as he continues to explore you, making every second feel endless and yet not nearly enough.

Jongseong’s teasing words hang in the air, and you can’t help but smile against his lips, your heart pounding in your chest. The fire between you is still blazing, but there’s a tenderness now, an unspoken understanding that this moment is more than just physical. It’s the culmination of everything - every shared glance, every whispered promise, every touch over the past 12 years.

“I’m gonna fuck you, fill you up and have you walk around the reception with my cum inside of you,” he breathes out, his hands busy undoing his dress trousers, fingers fumbling before pushing them down, the fabric pooling to his ankles, quickly making friends with your wedding dress.

The mere thought if it has you deperate, and instantly, you’re jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist, your heat craving his touch.  Jongseong lets out a low groan as you cling to him, the weight of you pressing against his cock driving his need to the surface. He catches your lips again, this time more fervently, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he practically traps you between the wall and his chest. The coolness of the hotel wall contrasts with the heat of his body, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your lips, his voice a mix of frustration and affection. His breath is heavy, matching the rapid beat of your heart. He needs to be inside of you, and he needs it now.

As he adjusts his grip on you, his hand slides between your thighs as he pushes your thong to the side, lining himself up. The anticipation builds, and you moan softly, arching against him, silently pleading for more, the tip of his cock poking at where you need him most. He pauses for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Ready?” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, as if daring you to answer.

You don’t need to say a word - your body tells him everything he needs to know, but your nod anyway. “Yes, fuck, Jongseong please.”

With one smooth motion, Jongseong thrusts into you, filling you completely. A gasp escapes your lips as your bodies meld together, the intensity of the moment sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you. He groans deeply, his breath ragged as he begins to move, each thrust deliberate and powerful, driving deeper into you.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your core, your senses overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside you. The curve of his cock drags down your tight walls, each bump of your inner core being kissed by his bell, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

His pace quickens, the need between you intensifying. Your nails dig into his back, holding him closer as he drives into you harder, deeper, the friction and heat building to an unbearable crescendo. The way he looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, filled with raw need and adoration, makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters to him in this moment.

“God, you feel so good,” he breathes out, his voice hoarse with desire. His hips snap against yours with more urgency, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he presses his forehead to yours. “Gonna fill you up, yeah? Give you all of me just like you deserve.”

You can’t hold back the moans that slip from your lips, your body trembling as you near the edge. Every thrust, every touch, every breath sends you spiraling closer to that sweet release, and you can feel it building, tightening in your core.

“Can’t wait to start a family with you, baby,” he confesses, the sentence thoughtful yet primal, “What if I got you pregnant right now, huh? Would Mrs. Park like that?”

“Fuck, yes!” you mewl out, the way he says your new government name along with the promise of a family is all too overwhelming as it mixes in with the utter lust your body feels. You need him to fill you to the brim, to have each inch of him buried to the hilt of you while he pumps his seed deep into your womb. “I need you… so close…” you whisper, your voice trembling with desperation.

Jongseong's thrusts become more urgent, each one deeper and harder than the last. Your bodies move in perfect rhythm, his name slipping from your lips in a desperate moan as pleasure coils tighter within you. The world fades away, your senses filled only by the heat of his skin against yours, the heady scent of desire, and the raw intensity in his gaze as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Mrs. Park,” he whispers, “So pretty, and all mine.” His tone is loving if through gritted teeth, parts of the syllables coated in the desire he has running through his veins.

“I love you, Jongseong,” you whisper, kissing all over his face as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink of euphoria.

He chuckles softly, eyes almost filling with tears. “I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much.” And without another word, he kisses you with so much passion and devotion that if you weren’t already breathless from the raw fucking he is giving you, you definetly would have felt the air escape your lungs.

The pressure inside you builds relentlessly, your muscles clenching around him, drawing him deeper. He groans, a low, guttural sound that sends a thrill of electricity through your veins. His lips trail back up your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake before they crash into yours again, his kiss filled with hunger and need, as if he can’t get enough of you.

"You're perfect," he breathes against your lips, his voice strained, thick with lust. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you down harder onto him with every thrust, making you feel every inch of him. “Ready to be a mum, baby? Ready for me to fuck you senseless each and every day and use the excuse of trying?”

“Fuck yeah, Jongseong, I can’t wait.” The grin on your face contorts with pure pleasure as he takes your words and runs wild with them, making good on his promise. If it isn’t today, or tomorrow, or even in the next year, he will make sure he keeps fucking you, until both of you create something wonderful, until you create a family that’s bigger than what you both are now.

You cling to him, nails scraping against his back as waves of pleasure crash over you with every buck of his hips. His pace is relentless now, hips slamming into yours with raw, unfiltered passion, each motion pushing you closer to the edge. Your vision blurs, the world spinning as the sensation intensifies, your body trembling uncontrollably.

You can feel him pulsing inside you, the tension in his body telling you that he's close, just as you are. His name is the only word you can form as your release builds to a peak, the pressure inside you unbearable. He presses his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on you, completely focused as he watches you fall apart in his arms.

"Cum for me," he growls, his voice a rough command that sends a shudder through you.

At his words, the coil inside you snaps, and you let go completely. A cry escapes your lips as the orgasm tears through you, your entire body trembling violently as pleasure floods your senses. You grip onto him like he's the only thing grounding you, your nails digging into his skin as wave after wave of ecstasy courses through you.

Jongseong’s own release follows soon after, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside you, his groans of pleasure vibrating against your neck. His movements slow but remain deep, deliberate, prolonging the sensation as both of you ride the aftershocks of pleasure. You can feel his warmth spreading through you, just as he promised, and the thought of it sends a final tremor through your body.

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of the moment still clinging to you as Jongseong’s weight presses you gently against the wall. His chest heaves against yours, and the only sound is the ragged rhythm of your breaths mingling in the charged air.

Slowly, Jongseong pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. His fingers trace softly over your flushed skin, and the intensity in his eyes gives way to a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in to kiss you again, this time with a slow, sweet tenderness that deepens the connection between you.

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice soft and reverent as his thumb caresses the curve of your jaw.

You nod, breathless and still tingling from the afterglow. “More than okay,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his as you speak.

“Good,” he chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. He sets you down gently, supporting you until your legs regain their strength. “We have a reception to get back to, after all.”

With a deft, almost intimate touch, his fingers slip between your sensitive folds, gathering his essence before gently pushing it back inside you. His gaze remains locked with yours, a mix of possessiveness and adortation. “Keep that in there until I can steal you away again and give you more.”

Giggling, you nod, biting your lip. You really cannot wait for the day you have this man’s child.

_____

Jongseong bursts into the hospital, his breath ragged, his vision blurred by the panic that clogs his thoughts. The fluorescent lights overhead feel too bright, their sterile, clinical glow only exacerbating the coldness gripping his chest. A sharp antiseptic smell wafts through the air, mingling with the faint hum of machinery and the occasional cough from sick patients in the waiting area. The beeps of heart monitors and distant murmurs of conversation all blur into a single cacophony, lost on him as his sole focus narrows to one desperate objective: finding you.

His eyes dart wildly across the expanse of the lobby, scanning for some kind of guidance. There, tucked away in the corner, is an oak reception desk. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a sympathetic smile, taps away at her computer, unaware of the storm about to come her way. Jongseong rushes over, his heart pounding, each thud reverberating in his ears like the ticking of a countdown he can’t afford to lose.

"Excuse me, do you know where the maternity ward is?" The words tumble from his mouth in a breathless jumble, barely coherent even to his own ears. It doesn’t sound like him - this frantic, uncollected version of himself - but he doesn’t care. He can’t afford to. His gaze flickers briefly to the woman behind the desk as she begins to reply, her voice gentle, almost calming, in stark contrast to the chaos raging inside him.

"You're in the wrong section, sweetheart. Maternity is ward 48, it's down the ha-"

But he doesn't wait for her to finish. Her words are cut short as he spins on his heel, legs propelling him down the long, seemingly endless corridor. His heart is racing, but not from the sprint. It’s the weight of fear, the gnawing dread that tightens his chest and churns his stomach. He might miss it. He might miss you. Miss being by your side when you need him the most. The thought alone makes his insides twist, as though someone had reached into his ribcage and clenched his heart in a fist.

This is supposed to be a joyous moment - the birth of his son, your son, the culmination of months of waiting, preparing, and dreaming. But right now, all he feels is the gnawing anxiety that he won’t make it in time. That he won’t be there to hold your hand, to look into your eyes and tell you that you’re doing great, that everything will be okay. 

His mind races back to when he received the call from your sister, the news hitting him like a freight train. He had been at work, neck-deep in paperwork and deadlines. He had barely believed it at first. You weren’t due for another two weeks; surely, this was a mistake. Yet, here you were, two floors above him, about to deliver his precious son into the world.

But none of that matters now. What matters is getting to you, being by your side before it’s too late. 

His legs burn as he pushes himself forward, following the overhead signs that guide him toward ward 48. The corridors stretch out before him like a maze, every turn only amplifying the desperation pooling in his chest. The sharp click of his shoes echoes loudly in the silence, but all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, the frantic beat of his own heart drowning out everything else.

When he finally crashes into the ward’s front desk, it’s not graceful. His body slams into the counter, breath heaving, his muscles taut with adrenaline. He grips the edge of the desk as though it's the only thing keeping him upright. "Excuse me, what room is Y/N Park in?" The words come out strained, his voice thick with tension. Every fibre of his being feels stretched to the breaking point, as though his body is barely containing the swell of emotions surging through him.

The receptionist looks up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There’s a knowing look in her eyes, one that says she’s seen this before - fathers on the verge of breaking, desperate to be there, to not miss the moment that changes everything. "Down the hall, third door on your left," she says kindly, nodding toward the direction he needs to go.

He doesn’t wait. With a sharp intake of breath, he pushes himself off the counter and bolts toward your room, his legs moving on autopilot, every step pounding with urgency. His mind races, imagining you lying there, scared or in pain, and it tears at him. You shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself. He swore to be there, to hold your hand through every step of this, and now he’s running on borrowed time.

The corridor leading to your room feels impossibly long, each door blurring past him as he counts them off in his head. First door, second door...third door. His hand trembles as it reaches for the handle, the weight of the moment crashing over him like a wave. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the truth is, nothing can prepare him for this. The surge of love, fear, and anticipation battling inside him is overwhelming, but all of it pales in comparison to the thought of you.

When he opens the door, his heart nearly stops. There you are, lying in the hospital bed, your face flushed with exertion but glowing with a strength he has always admired. You look up, and the moment your eyes meet his, it’s as if time itself stops. Relief floods your features, and he rushes to your side, gripping your hand as though it’s the only tether keeping him grounded.

"I’m here," he breathes, his voice cracking with emotion, kissing all over your hand. "I’m here, baby."

And as you squeeze his hand, the world narrows to just the two of you. The chaos of the hospital fades into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your breathing, the soft murmurs of encouragement from the midwife, and the quiet reassurance that, despite everything, he made it. He’s here.

“Okay, Y/N, I need you to push again for me. You’re doing so great, hun.” The midwife's voice is soft, almost a lullaby amidst the storm of chaos within you. It’s as if her words offer you a momentary anchor, a delicate thread of calm amidst the crashing waves of pressure building up inside your body. You nod, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling with exhaustion, but her voice mixed with the familiar warmth of Jongseong’s hand in yours somehow gives you strength. His fingers, strong and steady, wrap around yours, grounding you in this moment of overwhelming intensity.

He whispers soothing words, his thumb brushing over your clammy skin, wiping the sheen of sweat from your brow. But you barely register them. The noise of the hospital fades into the background as your body screams for release. It’s all-consuming, this pain—a deep, primal ache that makes you wonder how anyone could endure this more than once. You’re making a vow to yourself in this very moment: this is definitely the last time you’ll be giving birth.

The midwife’s calm encouragement pulls you back into the moment. “That’s it, you’re doing brilliantly, sweetie! He’s crowning!”

Her words send a jolt of both fear and anticipation down your spine. He’s almost here. You’re almost at the end. But it hurts - God, it fucking hurts. You can feel your body stretching, tearing, and it feels impossible, like your entire being is being pulled apart at the seams. You wonder how anyone survives this. You wonder how people choose to do this again and again. But the end is so close now, you can feel it, and it’s that thought, that hope, that pushes you to dig deep into a reserve of strength you didn’t even know you had.

Jongseong leans in, his face inches from yours as he wipes the sweat off your forehead. His touch is gentle, careful, as though you might shatter under the intensity of what’s happening. “My beautiful girl, you’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His words are meant to comfort you, but in your overstimulated state, they fall flat, like a pebble tossed into a stormy sea.

"You did this to me!" you cry out, your voice a strangled mixture of rage, exhaustion, and raw pain. The agony, the pressure, the sensation of your body trying to expel a living, breathing being from your core - it’s all too much. The frustration bubbles up and spills out as you glare at him through half-lidded eyes, loathing him, if only for a second, for putting you in this impossible situation.

Jongseong doesn’t take offence. Instead, he chuckles under his breath, a sound almost swallowed by the sheer intensity of the moment. He presses a tender kiss to your knuckles, seemingly immune to the iron grip you’ve got on his hand, your fingers squeezing so tightly it’s a wonder his bones aren’t crushed. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the tension. “I’m a bad man for giving you the best fucks of your life and putting you in this situation, aren’t I?”

Despite the searing pain wracking your body, you manage a weak, breathless laugh. His words, paired with the earnest yet amused look on his face, somehow cut through the fog of agony. For a brief, fleeting moment, the tension in the room eases, and even the nursing team joins in with a soft chuckle, their eyes sparkling with fondness.

“You’re the worst,” you retort, your voice strained, yet the humour dances between you like a fleeting lifeline. You don’t mean it, and once your beautiful baby is in your arms, you’ll forget every resentment towards your husband, the pain long gone and only love clouding your senses.

But the pain comes roaring back in full force, and the midwife’s voice cuts through the moment. “Alright, Y/N, I need you to push again. Just one more big push, okay?”

You nod, though you don’t trust your voice to respond. Your entire body tenses as you prepare for the final stretch, the last hurdle. The pressure builds, an unbearable weight pushing down on you, and with one last groan - deep, guttural, like a battle cry those old vikings used to do - you bear down, gripping Jongseong’s hand with all the strength you have left.

“You’re doing it, Y/N! That’s it, keep going!” The midwife’s voice is urgent but encouraging, guiding you through the overwhelming sensations. The room seems to blur at the edges, your vision tunnelling as you focus on nothing but the task at hand. You feel the burn, the rawness of your body stretching beyond its limits, but you push through it, every fibre of your being screaming for this to be over.

And then, with one final, agonised push, it is.

A high, piercing cry fills the room, cutting through the tension like a blade, and suddenly the world stills. The pain, the fear, the exhaustion - all of it fades away as you hear the first wail of your son, your precious baby boy. You collapse back against the pillows, your chest heaving, tears slipping down your cheeks as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

Jongseong is crying too. His hand is shaking as he wipes his eyes, his gaze locked on the tiny, wriggling figure in the midwife’s arms. “He’s here,” he whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. “Our boy… he’s here.”

The midwife checks your son over for a moment, and once she deems everything is perfectly healthy and fine, she offers you a small smile. “Would you like skin-to-skin?”

Without hesitation, you nod, exhaustion clouding over you. “Yes, please.”

The midwife places your newborn son on your chest, his tiny body warm and wet against your skin. You feel a rush of emotions - love, relief, awe - all of it crashing over you in waves so powerful they steal the breath from your lungs. Jongseong’s hand is reaches up to your face, his fingers trembling as he brushes a tear from your cheek.

“You did it,” he breathes, his eyes shining with pride and wonder. “You really did it, my love.”

You look down at your baby, his small hand curling against your chest, and despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs, you can’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “We did it,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your son’s soft cries.

And in that moment, as the three of you are cocooned in the quiet warmth of the hospital room, the world outside ceases to exist. There is only this. Only the love, the relief, and the overwhelming sense of joy that, despite everything, you’re finally a family.

Bringing life into the world is a moment of pure wonder, filled with a sense of awe and joy that nothing else compares to. The arrival of a new soul, fresh and full of potential, feels like the universe itself holding its breath in reverence. It’s beautiful chaos, tears of relief, the quiet weight of a newborn in your arms, the sweet fatigue that follows the storm of labour. There's a rawness, a vulnerability to it that makes it sacred. The start of life is an unspoken promise, a beginning with endless possibilities stretching out before it.

But as beautiful as the act of bringing life into the world is, it's devastatingly cruel when life is taken away. 

_____

Jongseong ascended the stairs slowly, each step sending a dull ache through his brittle bones. His knees groaned under his weight, no longer the strong, agile legs that had once carried him with ease through the vigours of life. The years had settled deep into his joints, a reminder of a long life lived. At seventy-five, his body had become an archive of memories, each wrinkle and creak a testament to the passage of time. But he didn’t mind, not really. He knew aging was inevitable, and while he wasn’t the fit man he used to be, he had grown accustomed to the slower pace, to the small sacrifices his body demanded. Today, though, his knees seemed to be protesting more than usual.

The morning was still quiet, the kind of peaceful stillness that only early dawn could bring. Jongseong had woken up earlier than you, something he had done a bit more often lately. Your still frame lay blissfully as he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake you. He wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, nothing extravagant, just something simple and sweet. Toast, a little bowl of fruit, and your favourite yoghurt arranged neatly on a tray. And, of course, a tiny daisy from the garden, a little burst of yellow and white placed beside the cutlery - a small token of the love he still carried for you, as bright and fresh as the day he’d first met you.

He smiled to himself as he finally reached the top of the stairs, breathing out heavily. His chest rose and fell slowly as he gathered the air back into his lungs, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. “Y’know, baby, maybe we should invest in that stairmaster,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head at the thought. “My knees are giving up on me here.”

He pushed open the door to your shared bedroom, the familiar scent of lavender and old wood welcoming him in. The room was a sanctuary, a place where the two of you had spent decades creating a life together. The walls seemed to hum with memories - of laughter, whispered arguments, nights spent comforting a scared baby Jeyou when he was small, his little body tucked between the two of you as you soothed his fears. Even now, the room felt like a cocoon of warmth, filled with the quiet reassurance of a life well-lived together.

Jongseong’s eyes softened as they landed on you. There you were, lying so peacefully, your grey hair splayed across the pillow, half of your face buried into its softness. Your lashes rested delicately on your wrinkled cheeks, and even now, after all these years, you looked so beautiful to him. He’d always loved watching you sleep, loved the way your face relaxed into a soft serenity. He stood there for a moment, tray still in hand, just looking at you, his heart swelling with the same love that had carried him through all the challenges, all the joys and sorrows of life. Every wrinkle on your face told a story he cherished, every line a map of the life you had built together.

But as he stood there, something shifted. The quietness in the room felt...different. The silence was deeper, more still than usual. He tilted his head, waiting for the familiar soft snort you made when you exhaled in your sleep, or for the small rise and fall of your chest that always reassured him. 

But none of that came.

His heart, which had been so full just moments ago, plummeted in his chest. A chill washed over him, the warmth of the room suddenly replaced with a growing panic.

“Love?” His voice was uncertain, his body moving on instinct as he placed the tray down on the dresser by the door. His legs, tired just a second ago, suddenly felt weightless as he rushed to your side. “Y/N?” He sat on the bed, his voice trembling now. “Baby, come on, wake up.”

He reached out, brushing the hair from your face, the strands falling softly between his trembling fingers. His hand lingered on your cheek, feeling for the warmth he had always known, but your skin felt cool beneath his touch. Too cool.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. His other hand found your shoulder, shaking you gently at first, and then with more urgency. “No, no, no. Come on, baby, stop joking around. Wake up. Please.”

The stillness of your body was a stark contrast to the frantic tremor in his hands. He shook you again, harder this time, but you remained as you were - so peaceful, so unbearably still. His chest tightened, the tears pooling in his eyes blurring his vision. He blinked rapidly, as though he could chase away the truth that was slowly sinking in, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of his heart.

“Please, baby, please. Don’t do this. I need you to wake up.” His voice was barely a whisper now, broken and fragile, like a child pleading for a nightmare to end. He pulled you closer, his trembling fingers gripping your arms as he collapsed over you, his body draped across yours as the sobs tore through him. The tears fell freely now, landing on your skin, tiny droplets of his heartbreak mingling with the softness of your stillness.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice strangled by grief. “Please. Don’t leave me. Not now. I’m not ready.”

The room, once so full of love and warmth, felt unbearably cold now. The silence stretched on, suffocating him, pressing down on his chest until he could barely breathe. He held you tightly, his arms wrapped around your lifeless body, as if by sheer will alone he could pull you back, make you breathe again, make your heart beat again. But you didn’t move. You didn’t stir.

Jongseong’s tears soaked into your skin, his sobs shaking his frail frame. His heart felt like it was being ripped apart, every beat more painful than the last. He pressed his cheek against your forehead, inhaling the faint scent of your skin, the scent that had been a constant comfort to him for all these years. But now, even that was fading, slipping away like you had.

“I can’t do this without you,” he cried, his voice breaking as he held you tighter. “We’ve always done everything together. How am I supposed to keep going if you’re not here? Please, baby, please...just come back to me.”

But there was no response, no stirring beneath his touch. Only silence. The kind of silence that comes with finality, with the weight of something precious being stolen away forever.

He stayed there, curled up beside you, his tears flowing unchecked, his heart heavy with the unbearable realisation that the love of his life, the woman who had been his everything for decades, was gone. The weight of it settled into his bones, deeper than any ache he’d felt before. This wasn’t just the weight of age, but of loss - a weight that would never truly lift.

For a long time, Jongseong didn’t move. He stayed wrapped around you, whispering soft apologies, broken words of love, promises that no longer had a future. His tears mingled with the daisy he’d picked for you, now wilting beside the untouched tray on the dresser, a small, fragile symbol of the life that had once bloomed between the two of you.

Jongseong's sobs gradually gave way to a trembling stillness as he lay beside you, his breaths coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. The tears had begun to slow, leaving trails of salt on his cheeks, mingling with the remnants of the breakfast tray that had once held such promise. The quiet of the room felt like a heavy blanket, oppressive and final. It was the kind of silence that seemed to stretch endlessly, a cruel reminder of what was now lost.

He pulled himself up slightly, lifting his head from where it had been buried in your shoulder. His eyes, red and swollen, scanned the room - the room that had been a sanctuary of shared dreams and countless memories. He looked at the framed photographs on the bedside table: the smiling faces of a younger you and him, the family portraits, snapshots of Jeyou through the years. It was all a tapestry of a life lived together, and now, it felt like a cruel joke.

“C’mon, love,” he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. He took your hand in his, holding it gently, trying to draw strength from the familiar warmth that was no longer there. “We still have so much more to do.” His voice cracked, but he pressed on, his mind desperately clinging to the plans they had made, the future they had envisioned.

He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself, his fingers tracing the lines of your hand with a tenderness born of countless shared moments. “Remember, we were going to finish the garden? We talked about planting those roses in the front yard. You always said you wanted to see them bloom better than the witches next door. And the trip to the lake -  Jeyou’s been asking about that fishing trip for ages. You promised him, remember? We were going to take him and Minhee out there and teach them how to catch those big trout.”

Jongseong’s tears began to flow again, mixing with the desperate, pleading edge in his voice. “What about Jeyou?” he continued, his voice breaking. “You can’t leave him behind. We’ve always been a family. He needs you, just like I do. He’s grown up so much, and he still needs his mum. We were going to watch him grown old and brittle like us, how can you do that if you don’t wake up, huh?”

He bent his head, his forehead resting against the cool, unmoving surface of your hand. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered, the words barely audible through the sobs that wracked his body. “If you can’t come back for me, come back for him. Please, please, please. Don’t leave him with just memories of you. He needs you. I need you.”

His pleas hung in the air, a desperate cry to the silence that had become so final. He squeezed your hand, the small, gentle action a futile attempt to make you respond, to bring you back. The room felt impossibly cold now, the warmth of shared dreams replaced by the chilling finality of loss.

He stayed like that for what felt like hours, holding your hand, whispering promises and plans that would never come to pass. The light from the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but it seemed to mock him now. The day they had planned, the future they had envisioned together, was slipping away, drowned in the ocean of his grief.

Jongseong’s heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, each shard a fragment of a life that would never be. He tried to imagine moving forward, but every vision was tainted by your absence. The world outside, with its ongoing rhythm and pulse, felt distant and irrelevant compared to the hollow ache that had settled within him.

_

Jongseong stood by your grave, the ache in his chest so profound it felt like it had hollowed him out completely. He had known, of course, that your funeral would be difficult but nothing, not even the endless condolences and the gentle words from well-meaning friends and family, could have prepared him for this kind of pain. The grief gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. It was the kind of hurt that no words could soothe, no embrace could soften. Nothing - except you.

His black suit hung loose on his frame, a stark contrast to the confident man he had once been. His posture, usually straight and proud, was slouched, his shoulders weighed down by the unbearable burden of loss. His face, pale and drawn, was a shadow of the man who once carried the light of the world in his heart. That light, he feared, had been taken with you. Since the moment you passed, the world had dimmed, and he wondered if he would ever feel warmth again. When the earth loses the sun, there is only darkness that remains.

He hasn’t slept. How could he? The bed is too big, too cold, too empty without you. Every night since your passing, he had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, his hand reaching across the bed to where you used to be, only to be met with nothing. He would run his fingers over the cool, empty space, the ache in his heart growing stronger with each passing minute. The silence was unbearable, the kind that swallowed him whole. He wondered how he was supposed to go on without you when every reason for his existence was tied to you. You had been his purpose, his love, his everything.

Since he was twenty-two years old, he had known nothing but being your other half. You had been there with him through every step, every joy, every heartbreak, every victory. Now, you weren’t here, and it felt as though half of him had been torn away, leaving a void that nothing could ever fill. His hand felt empty, void of your comforting squeezes, the way you used to reassure him with just a touch. He would never feel that again. He would never hear your laugh, never see your smile light up a room, never feel the warmth of your embrace. The thought was unbearable, a suffocating weight on his chest that made it hard to breathe.

Choking back a sob, Jongseong clenched his jaw and squeezed his throat shut, trying desperately to keep himself together, if not for himself, then for the family who stood around him. He knew they were hurting too, how could they not be, when you had been the centre of their lives as well? But it was hard. It was so hard to stand there and be strong when his insides were crumbling, when every fibre of his being screamed for you. He stared at the ground, his vision blurred by tears, the earth below looking so final, so cold.

The sky overhead was grey, a dull blanket of clouds that seemed to mirror the grief that hung in the air. The wind was gentle, but even the breeze felt like it carried sadness, the chill sinking into Jongseong’s bones. It felt as though the world itself had lost its colour, its vibrancy, ever since you had gone. The trees that surrounded the cemetery stood still, their leaves barely rustling, as if even nature was mourning. Every corner of the graveyard seemed muted, the flowers on the graves dull and lifeless, the headstones stark and lonely. Even the birds seemed quieter today, as though they too understood the magnitude of the loss.

Jongseong forced himself to look up, his eyes finding Jeyou across the gravesite. His son stood beside his wife, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed, his gaze locked on the casket that had been lowered into the ground. Jongseong’s heart ached even more at the sight of him. 

He wanted so desperately to be strong for Jeyou, for your son. He wanted to walk over and put a hand on his shoulder, to tell him everything would be alright, to hold him the way he had when Jeyou was a little boy, scared and unsure of the world. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t be anything for anyone right now, because the one person who had always given him the strength to carry on was gone.

Ara came up beside him then, slipping her arm through his. She didn’t say anything, after all, what could she say? There were no words that could take away the pain. Jongseong felt her presence beside him, her quiet support, but even that couldn’t bridge the gap that had opened up in his heart. Ara’s touch was gentle, her hand squeezing his arm, but the void inside him was too vast, too deep for even the love of his granddaughter to reach.

The priest’s voice droned on in the background, speaking the final words of the burial, but the words seemed to drift away, lost in the weight of the moment. Jongseong could barely hear them over the pounding of his heart, over the sound of his own ragged breaths. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free again. He didn’t want to fall apart, not here, not in front of everyone. But how could he not, when the love of his life was leaving him forever?

Jongseong bit his lip, his eyes glassy as he glanced down to your coffin-covered body, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. But there was none to give. This was it. This was the end. You were gone, and there was no miraculous happy ending where you would come back to him, where you would smile and tell him you were never going to leave. There was only the harsh, brutal reality that he would have to live the rest of his life without you.

Jongseong’s knees buckle slightly as the final prayer is spoken, and he feels Ara tighten her grip on his arm, grounding him, keeping him upright. He wants to collapse, to lie beside you and never get up. He wants to close his eyes and pretend that this was all just a terrible dream. But it isn’t. The casket in the ground is real, the earth that will cover it is real, and you are truly gone.

Jongseong let out a shaky breath, the air catching in his throat as he continued to stare at the grave. The casket, now partially covered by the earth, felt like a cruel finality, the last barrier between him and the love of his life. The flowers scattered around the site seemed dull in the overcast light, their once vibrant colours muted by the grief that hung over the cemetery like a thick fog. Everything seemed too quiet, too still, as if the world itself had paused in reverence to the enormity of his pain.

His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing with the agony of knowing that this was the end—no more shared mornings, no more gentle touches, no more stolen glances. The weight of it all made his chest tighten, a crushing force that left him gasping for breath. He could hardly believe that this was real, that the woman who had been his reason for living for so many years was now gone, leaving him to navigate a life he no longer knew how to live.

Ara tugged gently at his arm, her silent plea to move, to take a step forward. Jongseong hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground, unwilling to leave the spot where you lay. His eyes remained fixed on the grave, as if by staring hard enough, he could will you back into existence, could bring you back to him. But he knew it was futile. You were gone, and no amount of wishing or hoping could change that.

With a deep, ragged breath, Jongseong finally allowed Ara to lead him away. His feet dragged against the soft ground, every step feeling like a betrayal, a distancing from the life you had shared. Ara’s head stayed resting on his shoulder, her silent support both a comfort and a reminder of the family you had built together. He felt the weight of her love, the warmth of her presence, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same without you.

As they moved slowly away from the grave, Jongseong couldn’t resist one last glance back. His eyes, swollen and red from the tears that had yet to stop, locked onto the casket once more, now almost completely covered by the earth. It looked so final, so unbearably permanent. The soft hum of the wind through the trees seemed to carry with it a whisper of the life they had once known, a life that was now out of reach.

The grey sky overhead mirrored the dull ache in his heart, its heavy clouds hanging low as if they, too, mourned the loss of something irreplaceable. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and fresh flowers, but even that felt too bittersweet, a cruel reminder of the beauty that could still exist in a world where you no longer did.

As Jongseong allowed himself to be guided away, his shoulders hunched under the weight of grief, he knew that a part of him would forever remain at that graveside, buried alongside you. The rest of the world moved on around him, but for Jongseong, time had stopped the moment you left. Each step he took felt like a journey into an unknown future, a future without you by his side.

And as they walked further and further away, the image of your grave growing smaller in the distance, Jongseong couldn’t help but whisper under his breath, a final, desperate plea to the universe. “Wait for me, love…just wait for me.”

His words faded into the wind as Ara squeezed his arm gently, and together, they walked away from the place where his heart now lay, buried with you.

____

"I miss her," he says, his voice trembling slightly, breaking the stillness. It’s not just a simple statement—it’s a confession, raw and unfiltered, the kind that makes his chest ache as though his heart is being twisted by an invisible hand. He can feel the familiar sting of unshed tears burning behind his eyes, but he fights them back.

The living room is quiet again, but the kind of quiet that suffocates rather than soothes. Jongseong sits on the edge of the worn couch, his eyes fixed on the photographs that line the mantle. They are still - frozen moments of a life that once brimmed with joy and love. His mind drifts back to the present after the painful journey through memory, and he sighs, his heart heavy with the weight of a year without you.

The pain, sharp as it is, feels like a key turning inside him, unlocking emotions he thought he had long buried. A year. A whole year without you. Not a single day has passed where he doesn’t think of you. The mornings are the worst, when he still, out of habit, sets out two cups for coffee. He never drinks the second one - it just sits there, untouched, a quiet tribute to your absence. The daytime programmes you loved continue to play on the television, though they bring him no comfort, just the dull hum of voices filling a void. Visiting your grave has become his ritual, the only place where he feels some semblance of peace, though even that is shadowed by the overwhelming loneliness.

Jeyou shifts beside him, his own expression mirroring his father’s grief. He reaches out, gripping Jongseong’s hand with a firm, comforting squeeze. "I can't imagine what this day is like for you, Dad," Jeyou says, his voice soft, heavy with understanding. After all, he lost his mum, the one woman who sacrificed everything for him to attend the best schools, follow his dreams, and always made him feel like he belonged in this horrible world. 

He misses your soothing words, particularly on days like today, when he would give anything for your advice.

Jongseong swallows the lump in his throat, shaking his head slightly. "I only pray that you go first before your partner, so you don’t have to deal with this suffering," he replies, his voice hoarse but sincere. He knows how morbid it must sound, talking so freely about his son’s death, but he means every word. Losing the love of your life is an agony he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, let alone Jeyou. It’s not something you ever get over. The pain is deep, cutthroat, and unrelenting, carving out pieces of your soul until you’re hollowed out, just an echo of who you used to be.

They continue talking for the next few hours, the conversation a gentle distraction, though the sorrow lingers in every pause, every shared glance. Minji and Minhee return from outside, running about the room, their laughter a bright but distant sound in Jongseong’s ears. He watches them, a small smile flickering on his lips. Their energy, their innocence, is a reminder that life does go on, even when it feels like yours has stopped.

As the night begins to peer it’s head, it’s time for them to go. Jongseong hates goodbyes now, even the small ones. Ara looks particularly reluctant to leave, her brow furrowed in worry as she watches her grandfather. She’s always been able to read him like a book, even as a child, and now she can see the light fading from his eyes, just as it has been ever since you left.

"I’ll pop around tomorrow, okay? We’ll get you some shopping in," Jeyou says, standing up and shrugging into his jacket, his eyes lingering on his father’s frail form. Jongseong looks thinner these days, the years catching up to him faster than ever before.

"Thanks, son," Jongseong replies, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. He knows how much of a burden it must be, looking after him, checking in on him. He should be the one taking care of everyone, the way he used to, but these days, it’s hard just to get out of bed in the mornings. The world feels heavier.

Minji and Minhee run up to their Poppy, throwing their arms around him in a tight hug. He leans down, pulling them close, inhaling the sweet scent of their hair as he squeezes them back with as much strength as he can muster.

"Be good, okay? I’ll see you soon," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. Minji giggles and gives him one last squeeze before darting off towards the car, while Minhee sighs in compassion for his great grandfather before following his little sister. He doesn’t know the full extent of everything that goes on, but he knows the old man is hurting. 

Jeyou lingers a moment longer, his eyes searching his father’s face. There’s concern there, etched deep into his features. "Look after yourself, Dad. I mean it," he says, his tone firm but filled with love.

Jongseong nods, offering a faint smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. "I will," he says quietly, but they both know it’s more of a promise to make Jeyou feel better than a commitment Jongseong truly believes in.

As the door closes behind them, Jongseong stands by the window, watching as the car pulls away, his heart sinking deeper into the loneliness that has become his constant companion. The house, once filled with life and laughter, feels far too quiet now. He turns, his gaze drifting back to the photographs on the mantle - snapshots of a life well-lived, of love shared, of a happiness he fears he will never feel again.

With a sigh, Jongseong walks to the mantle and gently picks up the frame holding your picture. His thumb brushes over the glass, tracing the contours of your face, his chest tightening with the ache of missing you.

‘Look after yourself,’ Jeyou had said. But how could he, when the one person who made life worth living was gone?

As the silence wraps itself around him once more, Jongseong sets the picture back in its place, his heart heavy with the weight of another day without you.

Climbing up the stairs, he makes his way to your bedroom, the day draining him of everything he has left. Jongseong steps into the bedroom, the air feels heavier, thick with memories and the lingering presence of you. The familiar scent of lavender still clings to the room, though it’s faded over time, much like the vibrant colours of the quilt you both once shared. He pauses by the doorframe, his eyes falling instinctively to your side of the bed. It’s exactly as you left it - untouched, sacred. He’s been afraid to disrupt it, afraid that even the slightest disturbance might somehow break the fragile connection he feels with you, like it might shake you wherever you are in the universe.

But tonight is different. Tonight, the ache of missing you is unbearable.

Slowly, Jongseong crosses the room, each step feeling heavier than the last. His heart hammers in his chest, his breath shallow as he reaches the bed. He hesitates for a moment, his trembling fingers reaching out to touch your pillow, the one that still sees your head laying upon. Tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision, but he doesn’t wipe them away. He lets them fall freely, each drop a testament to the love he’s carried for you all these years, a love that still refuses to fade even in your absence.

With a shaky breath, Jongseong lowers himself onto your side of the bed, feeling the mattress dip under his weight. It feels strange at first, like he’s intruding on a space that should remain untouched, but the yearning to feel close to you again overpowers the guilt. He lies down, resting his head on your pillow, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as his tears soak into the fabric.

“I love you, Y/N. More than my heart and chest can hold in,” he whispers into the empty room, the same words he had once said to you all those years ago when he first confessed his love. It feels like an echo, like his heart is trying to reach across the vast distance between him and wherever you are now, hoping that you can hear him, feel him.

He swallows the lump in his throat, his body trembling with grief. "I don’t know how to do this without you, Y/N. Everything... everything is so hard now. Even getting out of bed in the morning. There’s no joy in anything anymore." His voice lowers to a near whisper, almost as though he’s confessing to the universe itself. 

The room feels impossibly quiet, the stillness pressing down on him. His mind races with memories of you, of your laughter, the way your smile could light up even the darkest day, how your hand in his made everything feel right. He presses his face into the pillow, inhaling deeply as if he could somehow capture the last remnants of your presence.

Jongseong closes his eyes, exhaustion creeping up on him, though it’s not the kind that can be cured by sleep. It’s a soul-deep weariness, the kind that comes from carrying too much pain for too long. He hasn’t allowed himself to cry like this in a while, always trying to stay strong for the family, but here, in the silence of your bedroom, he finally lets himself feel the full weight of his grief.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispers, his voice barely audible now. "I don’t know how to live in a world without you. I miss you so much it hurts... I just want to feel you beside me again, even if only for a moment."

He feels the tears slip down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting, but he’s too tired to wipe them away. His body sinks deeper into the bed, the familiar warmth of the blankets enveloping him, though it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same without you.

Jongseong closes his eyes, his hand clutching your pillow as if it were you, as if holding on tight enough could bring you back. The exhaustion weighs heavier on him now, pulling him under, and before he knows it, he’s drifting off to sleep - something that has eluded him since you passed.

Jongseong lies still, his breath slowing as the quiet of the room wraps around him like a blanket. The familiar scent of your pillow soothes the ache in his chest, though not entirely. His hand remains clutching the pillow, his knuckles white against the soft fabric, as if holding on just a little tighter might somehow bring you back.

His frail body begins to relax, the weight of the years and grief easing off his tired shoulders. His eyelids grow heavy, the darkness behind them more inviting than the empty, lonely room. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of you; he swears he can feel you surrounding him.

Jongseong’s heart, worn and bruised by your absence, finds a strange calm. The sharp pain of loss that has haunted him for so long softens, as if your presence - though unseen - soothes him, guiding him gently. He can almost hear your voice, soft and familiar, calling his name from somewhere far off, yet so close.

Exhaustion weighs heavier now, pulling him further into that quiet space between sleep and memory. His body sinks deeper into the mattress, the aches in his bones easing as his breathing slows. In the stillness, each breath comes softer, more rhythmic, like the gentle ebb of a distant tide.

As sleep pulls him in fully, a peaceful expression settles across his face. The lines of grief soften, replaced by something close to serenity. His grip on the pillow loosens, his hand falling gently to his side.

And in that stillness, Jongseong rests, his breathing gentle, his heart finally at peace, as though in the silence of the room, he has found his way back to you.

_____

“Dad?” Jeyou’s voice echoes through the house as he steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. A strange, unsettling quiet fills the space, not the kind of silence that welcomes you home but the kind that makes your skin prickle. There’s no familiar sound of his father calling out from another room, no clattering of dishes in the kitchen or the hum of the TV from the living room. It’s still. 

Too still.

He pauses at the base of the stairs, staring up as if expecting his dad to appear at the top, grinning, telling him to come up. But nothing. The quiet presses down on him, growing heavier with each passing second. Everything in the house looks exactly the same as it did yesterday - the framed photos of family lining the hallway, the shoes left in a pile near the door, and the faint scent of yesterday’s lunch lingering. Something feels...off.

Jeyou swallows hard, dread settling in the pit of his stomach as he places his hand on the bannister, fingers trembling slightly. He starts up the stairs slowly, the soft creak of each step the only sound breaking the silence. With every step, his heart pounds harder, his breath growing more unsteady. The house, once full of warmth, now feels cold, unfamiliar.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, the hallway stretches before him, just as it always has. But the air is different. It feels heavier, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Jeyou walks toward the bedroom, his pace quickening as he reaches the door. His hand hovers over the handle, the knot of anxiety twisting tighter in his chest. He pushes the door open slowly.

There, lying on the bed, is his father.

Jongseong is still in the clothes he wore yesterday, his body lying peacefully on the bed, his hand hanging limply off the side, fingers curled and unmoving. His face is calm, serene even, as if he’s just fallen into a deep sleep. But the sight is all wrong. His chest doesn’t rise and fall with the steady rhythm of breath. The colour in his cheeks has faded, his skin now ashen and pale.

Jeyou’s breath catches in his throat, his chest tightening painfully. "Oh... no..." he whispers, the words trembling as they leave his mouth. His jaw clenches, trying to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over him, but it’s no use. His eyes burn, tears pricking painfully at the corners before spilling over, running down his cheeks before he can even bring himself to step closer.

He drops to his knees beside the bed, his hands shaking as they reach for his father’s limp hand, the warmth long gone. His fingers brush Jongseong’s skin, but there’s no response, no twitch, no familiar squeeze. His father is gone, and Jeyou feels the reality of it shattering through him like a blow to the chest.

He leans over the bed, resting his forehead against his father’s hand, the sobs he’s been holding back finally escaping his throat in broken gasps. “No... please... not yet, Dad,” he chokes out, his voice strangled by the tears, the grief clawing at his insides. "Please..."

Jeyou lifts his head, staring at his father’s peaceful face, and for a moment, it feels like he’s just sleeping. But the quiet, the terrible, awful quiet, tells him everything he needs to know. His father, the man who had been his rock, his guide through life, is no longer here.

There is a sweet irony in this moment.

As Jeyou's sobs echo softly through the room, Jongseong’s spirit hovers nearby, watching his son with a tender, bittersweet smile. Although he mourns the pain of his son, there’s no longer any weight on his heart, no sense of loss or longing. Instead, there’s a warmth, a gentle, reassuring presence by his side. He feels it before he even turns. A familiar hand slips into his, fingers intertwining with his in the way they always had, fitting perfectly, like pieces of a long-lost puzzle finally reunited.

He turns, and there you are, standing before him with that radiant smile that never failed to brighten his darkest days. It’s the smile that spoke of every quiet moment you shared, every laugh, every whispered confession of love. His heart, which had carried the unbearable ache of your absence for so long, suddenly feels whole again. The years of sorrow and longing melt away in an instant, replaced by the purest form of joy.

“Took you long enough,” you say with a soft pout, your voice light and teasing, just as it had been in life. There’s no hint of sadness or bitterness in your tone, only the playful warmth he’s missed so much, the kind that had always made his heart flutter.

Jongseong smiles in return, a gentle, peaceful expression settling over his face. For the first time in a year, he feels truly at ease. “I was caught up, sorry, baby,” he replies softly, his voice filled with love as he gazes at you. His hand squeezes yours gently, his fingers brushing over your skin as if to reassure himself that this moment is real, that you’re really here.

And then, without hesitation, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss so tender, so full of longing and relief, that it feels as though the time apart vanishes in an instant. The kiss is soft yet meaningful, filled with all the words he could never find to express how much he had missed you. It's like coming home - like slipping into the warmth of an embrace that was always meant to be. 

The sensation of your lips against his is more perfect than anything he remembers, as if all the love he ever felt for you has been distilled into this one beautiful moment. The warmth of it spreads through him, igniting his soul with a peace he hasn't felt in a long time.

Jongseong pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. His soul feeling light yet beautifully full, free from the ache that had weighed him down for so long. He finally feels whole, finally feels like he’s where he belongs - beside you, where he’s always meant to be.

For a moment, he glances over his shoulder, back at Jeyou. His son kneels by the bedside, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the pain of his loss fresh and raw. Jongseong watches him with a soft expression, understanding the weight of the grief that will soon settle into Jeyou’s heart. But even in his son’s sorrow, Jongseong knows he will be okay. Time will heal the wounds, and Jeyou has the strength to carry on. He has a family, a loving wife, beautiful children, and the memories of both his parents to guide him.

Jongseong’s lips curve into a sad yet hopeful smile as he watches Jeyou. ‘You’ll be alright, Jeyou' he thinks, though no words leave his lips. He knows Jeyou will heal, just as he himself did once, after his own parents passed. There will be sadness, yes, but there will also be love, laughter, and life to carry him forward.

With that comforting knowledge resting in his heart, Jongseong turns back to you, his grip on your hand tightening just a little, as if to reaffirm the bond you’ve shared for decades. The past, the pain, the loneliness - it all falls away, leaving nothing but peace and love.

“Ready?” you ask softly, your eyes sparkling with a familiar warmth, as if you’d never been apart.

Jongseong nods, a contented smile playing at his lips. “Always,” he replies, his voice steady, filled with a quiet, unwavering certainty. With your hand in his, he takes the first step forward, leaving behind the world of sorrow and stepping into forever with you.

And as the two of you walk together, the light grows brighter, the burdens of the mortal world disappearing entirely, now walking hand in hand, just as you were always meant to.

_____

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[byeomtori]

the only exception | beomgyu x reader

pairing: beomgyu x female reader

content: love at first sight au, summer love thingy, lots of reference to paramore's the only exception and txt's our summer, pda

tw: mentions of fight and blood

words count: 12k

notes: reposting because of high demand (lol)

preview:

you were not the type to believe in the existence of love. to you, there was no such a thing as true love; no such a thing as unwavering, unbreakable, and unparalleled fondness and devotion for someone. to you, people love to get something they desire in return — money, power, status, pride. your parents were a living prove of that

the day you were old enough to understand the lack of love and affection between your parents to each other, and to you; you swore to never grow that feeling to anyone — family, friends, partner. anyone. because to you, love did not exist.

you were content living that way for years, not happy, but content.

the absence of love in your life protected you from attachment, heartbreak, sorrow — those negative emotions that you deemed unnecessary and unworthy to be sitting inside of you.

life was okay without love, you thought.

until you had to spend the rest of your summer with a distant relative whom you've never met in your entire life, in a small town with an ocean view, where fate had brought you a boy whose eyes shine brighter than any stars in the night sky.

and maybe, just maybe, love does exist.

a comforting smell of freshly brewed chamomile tea wafting in the air as you make your way inside the unfamiliar home — the one you will be spending three months in because your parents are way too busy flying around across the globe to be taking care of you.

"come on in, y/n." the woman in front of you speaks, her voice soft, the type of voice a kindergarten teacher would have.

maybe she was one, you have no idea. in fact, you know nothing about the woman standing in a yellow dress in front of you. she is pretty, even though it is evident her aging is slowly creeping up to her from the way her skin wrinkles on the corner of her eyes when she smiles. but to you, she is pretty- the mother-like kind of pretty. the kind of pretty that makes you feel warm inside.

but again, you know nothing about her. have never seen her in your entire life. never even heard her name from any of your parents until today.

aunty sue.

that was the name your mom had told you in the car this morning when she was dropping you off at the train station, she couldn't even make some time to drive you straight here, and telling you the woman is a distant cousin of hers whom she hasn't met in a long time. and that was also the name the said woman had introduced herself to you.

"do you want some tea, honey? or anything else?" she asks, making her way into the kitchen as you trail behind her like a little lost puppy.

"tea is fine," you reply.

leaning against the kitchen counter, you roam your eyes around the room. some parts of the walls are painted in pastel green while another part is decorated with a plaid wallpaper with the same color — just a shade darker. the counter tops are full of kitchen appliances, cookbooks, sunflower patterned dishes, and freshly washed vegetables along with some other things. there are random little trinkets on the windowsill — a wooden carved statue of a cat, a line of herbs in old tomato cans, and a sun catcher being hung at the corner of the window making tiny little rainbows refracting inside the kitchen.

the furniture of the dining area does not match with each other — one wooden chair with a striking blue cushion, a yellow wicker chair and another two plastic chairs in white. though everything is mismatch, it doesn't look weird. it feels right, even.

it feels like home.

very different from your house where nothing is ever out of place. the countertops made of slick white marble, picked personally by your mother, are always shiny as if no one has ever touched it. truthfully speaking, they kind of are. no one is ever cooking in that kitchen. you bet the only stains that has dirtied that counter was that one time you spilled your morning coffee on it. the stove, it looks brand new compared to the one in front of you right now which looks like it has been in service for more than a decade with how rusty it looks.

everything in your house is perfect to the tee. a façade that is what you like to think — to mask the family's imperfections.

a house that never felt like a home.

"i'm going to keep my stuff in my room first, i'll be right back," you say as you pull your luggage with you.

"sure, honey. your room is the second door on the right."

honey.

not even your own mother has ever called you that.

you haul your bag with much difficulty up the stairs, cursing yourself mentally for overpacking, before making your way to the said door. the room is spacious, not as big as your own room back in the city, but still enough to fit a queen-sized bed in the middle, a study desk by the window and a two doors wardrobe in the corner.

the glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony are being left slightly open, the warm summer breeze blowing the white sheer curtain. leaving your luggage by the bed, you make your way over to the balcony — pushing open the sliding door wider as you step out into the outdoor.

to say you are astonished is an understatement. the view in front of you is breath-taking — the house is located on top of the hill, overlooking the neighborhood and the ocean, the season's bright sunlight is making the scenery even more spectacular.

you breath in the air, inhaling the smell of the blue sea with your eyes closed.

there is someone, other than aunty sue, downstairs — you can clearly hear the sound of a male voice which is a little bit too loud to be ignored, talking to the woman in the kitchen about how his mom had forced him to deliver cake to all the houses up the hill in the middle of the day.

"y/n, honey! are you done? come downstairs, please." opening your eyes, you let out a soft sigh as you walk back inside, keeping your eyes on the ocean outside as you close the glass doors.

it's okay, you have the whole three months here. you tell yourself as you make your way back into the kitchen, the guest is still going on about how his little rant.

"i mean, don't get me wrong. i love summer, but to deliver all of them under the sun? god i felt like-.." and as he turns to face you who is standing at the entrance of the kitchen, your breath hitch in your throat.

you're not sure is it the iridescent illumination from the sun catcher beaming on him, or the glow of his skin that is glistening with sweats from biking under the summer rays, or the sparks in his eyes as he stares at you;

but oh god, he is beautiful.

not pretty, but beautiful. the angel-like kind of beautiful. the kind of beautiful that would make people turn their heads. the kind of beautiful that would make you steal glances at him if you were to sit in front of him in a train. the kind of beautiful that makes the ocean view you saw earlier lose its' price.

the once in a lifetime kind of beautiful.

"y/n, this is beomgyu, his mom owns a bakery down the hill."

"oh, this is the girl that you've been telling me about!" he says excitedly as he makes his way over to you, "she's pretty."

and you almost choked on your saliva. how can he be saying things like that so casually?!

"hi, i'm choi beomgyu," he says, extending out his hand for a handshake. "aunty sue told me a lot about you so i'm kind of excited to be your friend, that is if you want, of course."

you look down to his hand, lifting your own as you slowly put it in his. "im y/n,"

though it feels rough, his hand still holds a certain kind of warmth that makes you feel secured. you can feel calluses on his fingertips, too. does he play the guitar?

you're not even sure why you feel bashful under his gaze. you don't understand the warm fuzzy feeling you're getting when he keeps his hand in yours. you don't get why your heart is beating so fast when he says your name, the syllabus rolling perfectly on his tongue like it was made for him and only him to say.

"well then, i look forward to hanging out with you, y/n."

the conscious side of your brain is already blaring an alarm, telling you to turn him down, telling you that no, you don't want to hang out with him. that no, you don't look forward to spending your summer with him.

but despite that, you find yourself nodding to his words. "me too, choi beomgyu."

it has been three days since you have first arrived, and you have concluded that choi beomgyu is a man of his words.

you didn't think much when he told you that he looks forward to hanging out with you, thinking that he was just being nice to a newcomer and to act friendly to you.

because that's all you have ever known — people acting nicely to you.

you remember when you used to associate in a group of girls back in middle school; it was one of the worst times of your life. eleven years old you were so naïve (read: stupid) to realize that those girls were just using you for your unlimited amount of cash — always inviting you to go shopping, forcing you to throw fancy sleepovers — until one day one of them literally had to scream in your face that they were only hanging out with you for your daddy's money.

and since then, you have never tried to befriend anyone and those around you never approached or asked you to hang out, either.

so, it is a surprise to you that choi beomgyu stays true to his words.

yesterday, he had come over early in the morning looking as beautiful as you had remembered the first time you saw him; asking you if you want a little tour of the small town. you had declined, telling him you still had a few things left to unpack, leaving the boy pouting. you had felt slightly bad, just slightly.

you are in the backyard with aunty sue, picking up some ripe tomatoes from the small garden. she told you she has been tending this small part of her backyard for almost seven years now, planting

various kinds of vegetables, using the excuse of she doesn’t like the ones sold in the market, when in reality she just really loves gardening and watching her plants come to live day by day.

“is the tomato that interesting to you?”

you jump in surprise as you hear a low voice speaking next to your ear. turning around, you find a grinning beomgyu looking down at you. he peeks under your straw hat, trying to have a better look at

your face. “you look like a tomato yourself.”

you frown, “what do you mean by that?!”

he bends, hands resting on his knees, now being eye to eye level with you. humming, he continues to study your face.

there is always something about him that never fails to make blood rush to your face. yesterday it was the way he dressed — white sleeveless top tucked messily inside his black jeans. it was simple, nothing outstanding about it but to you, he was breath-taking. and today; it’s the way he’s looking deep into your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks with every blink.

the rational part of you is telling you to push him aside or to move away, to break the eye contact. but the other part that you have no idea existed inside of you until you met him few days ago, is telling you to keep staring into his sparkling eyes, to play along to whatever little game he has put on.

the rational part of you won as you take a step back, creating a safe distance between your figure and his. you can feel your cheeks flushed, fully blaming it on the warm temperature as you had been

standing under the sun for quite a while now.

“your cheeks are so red, like a tomato.” he giggles, “are you hot?”

you look away from him, hiding your face under your hat as you whisper, “k-kinda…”

he was about to move closer to you again, hand reaching over to your hat, but it stops mid-air when aunty sue is calling over for the both of you. thanking the lord and savior, you quickly make an escape

from him as you walk over to where your aunty is standing with a plate full of freshly cut watermelon in hand.

you sit beside her on the porch, while beomgyu is standing right in front of you. “tell your mom i say thank you for the watermelon,” aunty sue says and the boy just hums, hand reaching down to pick up two pieces of the sliced fruit, handing one over to you.

you thank him quietly and he smiles down at you, “you will never find a watermelon as sweet and juicy as the ones that my grandfather planted.” he boasts, and aunty sue make a sound as what sounds

like she is agreeing with him. “that’s right, mr.choi planted the best watermelon in the country.”

the scorching heat of the sun calls for you to take a bite of the fruit – it is sweet, just like what beomgyu had said. “it’s so good,” you speak under your breath. you’re not sure how he manages to hear what

you said but he did, as the smile on his face grow wider. “right? i told you!”

he waits for you to finish the slice in your hand before handing you another one, all the while still towering in front of you.

“sit down, beomgyu.” your aunty says to him to which the boy just shakes his head. “i’m protecting y/n from the sun,” he replies casually, taking a bite of the watermelon “she looks like a real tomato

right now.”

both you and aunty sue look up to him in sync. he is, indeed, covering you away from the sun — being tall makes it easier for him to shield you away from the direct sunlight of the summer rays but his back

is taking up all the consequences of his action as you can see droplets of sweat forming on of his neck, sliding down to his back.

you glance to aunty sue, a coy smile on her lips. “j-just sit down!” you scold him, pulling him down by his wrist to sit beside you on the wooden veranda.

aunty sue giggles, “talking about tomato, do you want to bring some home, beomgyu?”

he shakes his head, “thanks, aunty sue but no one in that house enjoys eating tomato.”

“but i do want to ask for your permission to steal this cute tomato away from you for the night,” he says as he pokes your cheek with his index finger to which you move slightly away. “my friends are doing a bonfire by the cliff later, i was thinking to bring y/n along.”

you hesitate, gaze moving from his face to your aunty’s. “you can go, y/n. it’s much more fun to hang out with people your age rather than spending time with me,” she ensures you.

you look back to beomgyu, his eyes hopeful as he waits for your answer.

“okay, then.” you finally give in, a wide smile making its’ way across his face.

he stands up, one hand in the pocket of his pants as he bends down to look at your face, again.

“see you tonight then, tomato.”

one conclusion you can come up after spending a good half an hour with choi beomgyu is that he does not have a sense of personal space — not that you mind, at least for now when you are surrounded by unfamiliar teenagers laughing and chattering around the bonfire.

you’ve been stuck to his side since the moment you reached the cliff. it’s not like you are that comfortable with him but out of everyone here, he is the only person you know. despite that, choi beomgyu looks like he is that comfortable with you — hand on the small of your back while walking, wrapping his flannel around your waist so that you won’t get your shorts dirty (when in reality he just doesn’t like the way the other boys are looking at the exposed skin of your legs), sitting too close you can feel his shoulder brushing against yours as he moves.

truthfully, you would have been so annoyed. but this is choi beomgyu. he is choi beomgyu and you have no idea what’s about him that makes you feel so protected. even now when he has his hand on top of your right knee while he’s talking to his friends, you don’t feel irritated.

it feels right. he feels right.

“beomgyu!” someone calls him over from behind. he sighs, “i’m gonna go talk to him for a while, you’ll be alright here, right?” he asks to which you just nod your head.

what is he expecting you to say answer? no, don’t leave me, beomgyu. as if you would ever say that out loud.

the warmth of his palm leaves your skin as he gets up, making his way over to the blue-haired boy that was calling for him. your let your eyes linger on him, watching as he gives the guy a fist bump before

both of their gaze move to you and you quickly look away.

“you’re y/n, right?” a guy who is sitting in front of you speaks.

you nod, “hueningkai, right?” you ask, remembering his name after beomgyu had introduced you to him earlier. and you glad you did from the way his eyes lit up when you get his name right. years of

attending charity events and parties where you were forced to talk to random people by your parents has thought you to imprint people’s names on your mind easily.

“heard you’re from the city. how is the life there? i really want to live there someday, it’s really boring here,” he pouts. “the nearest mall is like, miles away.”

“i think it’s fun here,”

“yeah? and why is that?”

you go quiet for a moment. why is that? — there are various reasons why you think the town is not as boring as hueningkai believes. for an example, the ocean. there is no beach in the city, the nearest one being a whole hour drive away. the air here is cleaner too, not as polluted with vehicles smokes as the city. the weather here is nice too; though it’s summer, the heat here isn’t as bad as it is back

home.

and as your mind try to come up with another reason why you think the town is fun, your eyes move over to the brown-haired boy laughing along to whatever joke the blue-haired one has said to him.

even in the darkness of the night — the only source of light coming from the fire in front of you, he is still beautiful. the way he throws his head back as he laughs, the way his eyes are sparkling under the

night sky, the dimple that appears on his cheek as he smiles.

“it’s fun because there’s beomgyu, right?”

you turn your attention to the boy sitting across from you, his eyes on the same person you were staring few seconds ago.

“do you like him?” hueningkai asks, out of sudden.

“w-what?” you look at him, bewildered. “i don’t know what context of like you are talking about, but he is a good fr-…”

friend.

you so badly wanted to call beomgyu your friend, but you don’t even have the slightest idea of what a friend is — you never had one, at least not a real one. all through your school years, you have never

really had someone you can call as friend. sure, you talked to your classmates, but they felt more like acquaintances than friends. and you never bothered to get close to anyone because you know there

are always something they want in return — money, gifts, invitations to fancy parties, rich kids from your family’s circle to date, the list goes on.

so, you stop yourself from labelling beomgyu in that way. he is not your friend, not after only three days of knowing each other.

“he is a good guy, of course i like him. what kind of person doesn’t like good people?” you say, shifting in your seat to which hueningkai just shrugs his shoulders, “i think he likes yo-…” he stops talking midsentence when someone throws their arm around his neck, holding him in a chokehold.

“taehyun is calling for you,” beomgyu says as he smiles down wickedly at the younger. hueningkai knows his friend is lying but he just rolls his eyes and walks away to where taehyun is sitting.

“let’s go somewhere,” he extends his hand over to you.

“where?”

beomgyu grumbles, “just come.” taking your hand, he pulls you up to your feet.

following him from behind, you have no idea where he is taking you as you both walk further and further away from the group, until you’re climbing down the cliff.

he offers his hand to you, and you gladly accept, “be careful.”

holding your hand in his, he wraps his arm around your waist as he pulls you down to the ground with an ease. the night is pretty chilly compared to the sunlit afternoon earlier, but beomgyu’s hand still

hold a certain kind of warmth. and even though the temperature is low, you still can feel heat rushing up to your face when he keeps his arm around your waist even after you’ve set your feet safely on the

sandy beach — you’re glad it is dark, you don’t think you want him coming up with another vegetable related nickname for you.

“i wanted to bring you here yesterday, but you were busy unpacking. and i wanted to do it today too, but you looked so tired from helping aunty sue,” he says. “i know this is not the best time to be coming

here since it’s so dark but i just thought maybe you would want to see the ocean at night too.”

you move your gaze from his face to the moana in front of you. the water is calm, small waves crashing along the shores. no one else is around, only you and him.

you were about to walk over to the water’s edge when you feel beomgyu tugs on your hand gently. “take off your shoes first, pretty girl.” bending down, he wraps his hand around your ankle before

slowly pulling the white alexander mcqueen off of your foot. beomgyu is surprised, to be honest, to the fact that you casually wear a very expensive pair of sneakers to a lame bonfire party. then again,

these shoes probably didn’t cost that much for you.

“all done, you can go now.” he stands up straight again and he can’t help but notice the pink shade decorating your cheeks even in the inky night, “tomato.” he chuckles, pinching your left cheek.

you gently swat his hand away, blushing deeper, before walking to the water again. you smile as you feel the sand seeps through your toes as the waves crash on the shore. turning around to beomgyu, you see him with a soft smile in his face as he watches you from a distance.

“join me,”

and he can’t seem to decline your offer when you’re looking so ethereal underneath the moonlight, a gentle smile on your lips as you move your feet around to play with the wet sand.

abandoning his cheap pair of sneakers beside your expensive ones, he runs over to where you’re standing back facing him. he pretends to push you further to the ocean to which you react faster, shoving him — making him fall into the water with a big splash.

“hey!” he shrieks, quickly getting up on his feet. you take that as a sign for you to run — in which you didn’t manage to escape far enough when you feel his arms circling around your waist before he pulls you down along with him into the water.

“beomgyu!” you whine while splashing more of the salty water towards him while giggling.

and that night, while you both are walking home, soaked from head to toes with your wet clothes sticking disgustingly on your skin, laughing and giggling, you thought; maybe this is what friendship feels like.

“aunty sue, i’m going out for a while!” you call out your aunt in the kitchen as you’re running down the stairs toward the front door.

she peeks her head from the kitchen’s entrance, “where are you going, honey?”

“beomgyu’s mom’s bakery!” you reply, already stepping outside and you failed to catch the tender smile your aunt is throwing your way as you are busy putting on your shoes. “i’ll be back before dinner.”

when you push open the gate of the house, beomgyu is already waiting for you on his bicycle, a hat in his hand as he offers it over to you. “put it on, it’s too sunny.”

you accept with no question, putting the white hat on. it smells like him — like a mixture of frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, and bergamot waters. it smells like summer.

he smells like summer.

beomgyu watches as you put his hat on, holding back his smile to how adorable you look trying to tighten the hat’s straps to fit your head’s size. his hand reaches over to your face, tucking a few strands

of your hair that have come loose from your braids behind your ear. “pretty,” he whispers under his breath.

you look away from his eyes, quickly moving to sit on the backseat of his bicycle, wincing as the exposed skin of your thighs come in contact with the burning metal of the seat.

“sorry, chieko has been out in the sun for a while,” he says, referring to his bike. “you good?”

“yeah,” you shift on the seat, trying to find a comfortable position. “you name your bicycle with a dog’s name?”

he hums as he starts paddling, “my grandfather got this bicycle from a japanese owned shop. the owner used to have this really cute golden retriever by the name chieko, i loved him, hence the name.”

he explains, “is it weird?”

“kinda,” you reply to which he just laugh it off.

it has only been a week of summer break and beomgyu had come up with so many plans for the both of you. he has promised to make this, as quoted from the man himself, the best summer of your life

— to which you just responded with a raised eyebrow. you don’t mind spending the whole three months of break with him, you don’t mind at all. in fact, you would really like the idea — but he doesn’t

have to know that.

one of the plans he had come up with is; baking. and that is how you find yourself in the back of his mom’s bakery, with a baby pink apron tied around your waist and beomgyu going around in the

kitchen looking for the ingredients for the fruit strudels he had promise to make with you.

“oh, you must be y/n.”

you turn to the source of the voice, and you quickly bow your head, “ah, yeah. nice to meet you.” the woman in front of you have the same dimple as the one on beomgyu’s, and the way she smiles warmly remind you of her son too.

“you’re really pretty, just like what beomgyu had told me.”

“mom, where’s the peach?” he asks, stopping his mom from exposing him further, as he is rummaging inside the fruit basket on the counter.

the woman giggles, “is our beomgyu shy? is he embarrassed if his mom is going to tell the pretty girl all about the things he had talked about her?” she continues, emphasizing on the pretty girl.

you look over to him and notice how his ears has turned slightly red from his mom’s teasing. you’re not sure why he is acting that way when he has called you with that specific nickname so many times

already.

“mom~” he whines, all the while avoiding your eyes that are fixated on him.

his mom lets out a loud laugh — now you know where beomgyu got that from — as she walks over to the fridge behind you. “i keep them in the here, baby.”

“oh,” he says, taking the peaches from his mom’s hand. “thank you, my lady.” he leans down and kiss his mom’s temple to which his mom playfully pushes him away. the gesture tugs a string in your heart

— a feeling of longing. you can’t remember when was the last time you hugged your mom, or your dad. heck, you can’t even remember when was the last time they asked you about your day.

“have fun baking, y/n. i’m only a shout away if you need something, okay? in case beomgyu burns the kitchen down,” she jokes again before walking out to store again.

beomgyu sighs, “sorry about her. she can be a bit… overbearing sometimes.”

“no, she’s fun.” you says, stepping closer to help him with the fresh fruits.

and that’s how you spent your thursday morning; baking various fruits strudels — peach, strawberry, mango, blueberry. well, it was beomgyu who did most of the work but nevertheless, you had fun

cutting up the fresh fruits.

the oven digs, indicating the pastries have been baked. beomgyu pulls the tray out, before setting it on the flour-covered counter. “oh, it smells amazing!” you exclaim excitedly.

“wait until you taste them, they are,” he looks down at you, making a chef’s kiss gesture to which you just giggle. “well, we have to let them cool down first before putting the cream and the fruits. wanna

go up to my room while we wait?”

you hesitate, never ever in your life have you ever stepped a foot in a boy’s room. despite that, you find yourself nodding to him, “sure.”

he nods, taking off his apron and waits for you to take yours off before snatching it from your hands, hanging them on the hook by the fridge.

following him up to his room which is located at the second floor just right above the bakery, you notice the picture frames decorating the wall going up the stairs. family portraits, baby pictures of

whom you assume are beomgyu and his brother, wedding pictures of his parents, a picture of beomgyu’s kindergarten graduation. it’s like the family’s own little hall of fame.

imagining your house in your mind, you don’t think you have any other picture being hung on the wall aside from that one huge family portrait in the living room — the one where you were looking so rigid

sitting in between your parents. you hated that picture, and you still do. family portraits are supposed to be a symbol of happiness, a symbol of affection, a symbol of a healthy family relationship but your family does not have any of that. the picture that was taken in the fancy film studio in france was just another attempt to cover the family’s despair. it’s pathetic, really. how hard your parents are trying

to come off as a happy married couple with a perfect daughter. throwing the money away for material things that can cover up the lack of happiness in the household. it’s pitiful, the only thing they need to be raising a happy family is the one thing that they lack in life.

a loud chirping at your right as you step onto the landing of the second-floor surprises you. you turn your head to look at the green-colored parrot in the cage. it has its’ head tilted as it stares up at your

unfamiliar face.

“this is toto, my pet.”

“your pet?”

he nods.

“out of all the animals you can have as a pet, you chose a parrot?”

he shrugs, “toto is everyone’s best friend in this house.”

you blink, and he does too.

“oh, okay.” you say and he nods. “come, my room is this way.” he leads you over to the door that has a messy scribble of ‘choi beomgyu’ in colorful crayons, opening it for you and urging you to take step inside. “after you.”

his room is surprisingly neat. well, it’s not like you have seen a guy’s room before but you did assume beomgyu to be a little messy kind of person — the usual clothes on the floor, comic books scattered

on the bed, snacks wrappers on the desk. but his room is clean, no used clothes on the floor, only a round foldable table in the middle of the room.

“how long are we supposed to wait for the pastries to cool down?” you ask, taking a seat on the floor by the desk. “around half an hour,” he replies. “you know what other baked goods i’m really good at?”

you shake your head, “tell me.”

“pumpkin spice cupcake, but we don’t have any in the store now. it’s not autumn yet so finding for pumpkin is quite hard this time of the year.” he explains.

“how am i supposed to have a taste then?”

“that means you have to come here again during autumn,” he says. “i’ll bake every autumn desserts for you. beside, don’t you want to see my pretty face in a different season too?”

you grimace, “what difference does your face make in autumn?”

he laughs before reaching over to his guitar that was leaning against the wall beside the door.

so, he does play the guitar.

“do you want to hear a snippet of the song i wrote?” he asks while tuning his guitar.

“you wrote songs?”

“yeah, for fun though. i’ve never really let anyone listen to it, aside from the guys.”

“sure,” you say, holding in your excitement.

“i wrote this a few days ago, it’s not finished yet but i’ll try to give my best.” he gives you a smile before he starts strumming his guitar strings softly.

and when you thought choi beomgyu is already beautiful from the way he smiles, from the way his eyes twinkle under the summer sunshine, from the way his whisker dimples form on his cheeks when

he laughs — here he is giving you another reason to think that he is the most heavenly person you have ever came across when he opens his mouth to sing.

your fresh fragrance, your sparkling eyes

makes me feel better

reality loses its power, even the earth dies

the moment is eternal

you’re not sure is it the way the sunlight shining through the open window or the way his eyes are fixated on you while he sings, but you can feel the blood rushing to your face, leaving your cheeks feeling so warm.

no matter where you are, no matter what season

if we’re together, feel like summer

“this is getting boring.” says hueningkai as he throws the uno cards on to the floor before plopping on his back on the ground.

“agree, we should be doing something else.” taehyun, who has been scrolling on his phone since half an hour ago finally spoke.

beomgyu, with his four other friends along with a few others are sprawled out in choi yeonjun’s basement. they’ve been doing everything that they deem fun to do in the last four hours — the video games, board games, card games, truth or dare (in which beomgyu had successfully dodged every single question and dare related to you).

“let’s hit the diner, i’m kind of starving,” one of yeonjun’s friends, minho, suggest to which the other boys agree without any objections.

“nah man, i’ll pass for tonight.” beomgyu says, already standing up from his seat, “think i’m going to go home and sleep.”

“really, sleep?” minho asks, smirking up to beomgyu. “or are you going to see that girl, what’s her name again? y/n?”

beomgyu raises his eyebrow, “what does y/n got to do with this?”

sensing the shift in the air, soobin quickly nudges minho in the rib. “hey, shut your mouth.” says the older.

“i don’t know, beomgyu?” the blondie continues, “i barely see you hang out with your friends lately. every time i ask them where’s beomgyu, their answers were always the same; hanging out with y/n.” he pushes his tongue against his cheeks, clearly enjoying how extremely annoyed beomgyu looks.

“you don’t even have time for your friends anymore now? why? too busy fucking that little rich bit-…” and the next thing beomgyu knows is he is on top of the guy, throwing punches across the blondie’s

face as both soobin and yeonjun try to pull him away.

“don’t you fucking dare say that word.” he yells out loudly, throwing another blow on minho’s cheek.

minho forcefully pushes beomgyu, making the latter falls on his back as the blonde-haired boy climbs on top of him, punching him on the corner of his lips before yeonjun had to (literally) throw hands

towards minho to make him stop punching his younger friend.

there’s a loud ringing in beomgyu’s ears, his head spinning.

he was never one to resort to violence when it comes to anything. aside from that one time he accidentally kicked a girl in elementary school while trying to show off his hapkido skills, beomgyu has never hurt anyone physically. but there is something about the way your name rolls on minho’s tongue that make him sick to the core.

he gets on his feet after regaining his vision again, blood trickling down from his lips. he gives his friends one last glance before running up the stairs of the basement, slamming the door loudly as he walks out.

wiping his bloody lips with the sleeve of his hoodie, he curses under his breath, thinking he can’t go home with bruised lips and blood stains on his hoodie — his mom would make a big deal about it.

so, he continues walking — passes the front of the bakery, up the hill. feet moving according to where his heart wants him to go. to find comfort.

and it wasn’t a surprise to him as he stops in front of your aunty’s house, looking up to the second floor where your room is. the lights are out, total darkness surrounding your room. of course, it’s half

passed midnight, of course you will be sleeping by now.

beomgyu is not sure why did he came here. it’s not like he wants you to see him in this state — bruised lips, fresh blood still oozing from the cut, tousled hair, red stains on the sleeve of his yellow hoodie.

no, he doesn’t want you to see him looking this miserable. he was just trying to look for comfort, and to him, his comfort comes in the shape of a girl in an oversized blue t-shirt standing across from him.

“you scare me!” he says as he finds your figure standing in front of the gate of the house.

“what are you doing out here?” you ask.

“what are you doing out here?”

you cross your arms on your chest, “i saw you from the window.” though the only source of light shining on him comes from the dingy lamppost above him, you’re still able to make out his busted lips.

stepping over to him, you gently take his face in your hands. at that moment, beomgyu knows coming here to actually see you wasn’t a bad idea when he can feel the heat from your palms engulfing his cheeks.

he wanted solace and apparently you are his.

“what happened to you?” you ask softly, afraid that if you raise your voice any higher it might hurt him.'

“i fell…” he says, “for you.”

you take your hands off his cheek, slapping his arm to which he jokingly winces in pain. “how could you slap me when i’m already this wounded?” he pouts, “i did fell, okay? i tripped while coming up

here. the hill can be pretty steep sometimes.”

“you’ve been going up and down this hill your whole life, how can you suddenly fell today out of nowhere?”

“i don’t know? people make mistakes, y/n.”

you roll your eyes, “come on, i’ll clean it up for you.”

beomgyu didn’t hesitate to follow you into the house, up the stairs and into your bedroom. you lead him over to the bathroom, trying not to make too much noise and waking up your aunt in the room

right across from yours— you don’t think she would appreciate you bringing a boy into the house in the middle of the night, and the last thing you want is her thinking there’s something passionate going

around between you and the baker’s son.

taking his face in one hand gently, you blow onto his cut. “it’s going to sting a little, okay?” he hums, enjoying the cool breeze from you on his open wound.

he watches you tentatively as you dab the antiseptic on his skin. “does it hurt?” you ask to which he just shakes his head no. “okay. phew, this is kinda scary.” you giggle as you lean closer to his face again, your nose a few inches away from his.

beomgyu roams his eyes all over your face — your eyes, your nose, and your lips. he observes the way your long eyelashes flutters against your soft cheeks with every blink you make. the way your pupils dilate as you are so focused on attending his busted lips. the way your nose scrunches up occasionally when he lets out a low groan of pain. the way your lips are pull into a pout while you’re busy nagging to him.

even under the ugly fluorescent light of the bathroom, with you wearing the most basic clothes — no fancy summer dresses, or blouses, or expensive sneakers – with your hair messily being put up into a bun, face free from any kind of make-up, to choi beomgyu; you are the most beautiful.

and in the daze of post-punched and being in your presence, he lets the words slip out of his mouth.

“you are so fucking beautiful, y/n.”

the saying of time flies when you’re having fun is actually true. days have turned into weeks, and weeks have turned into months — it’s already been two months since you first arrived in this small

town with the ocean view.

the past months have been filled with many new things you’ve never experienced in your life — going hiking to see the sunrise with beomgyu, harvesting vegetables and herbs with aunty sue, helping

beomgyu’s mom in the bakery, binge eating snacks at the convenience store past midnight with beomgyu and his friends, barbecue party with the townspeople.

and the most precious thing you’ve encountered during this summer break is friendship — not only with beomgyu, but his friends too. you’ve come to get comfortable with yeonjun, soobin, taehyun and

hueningkai along the way after spending time with them. beomgyu had brought you along to hang out with them a few times, and you had grown to enjoy the boys’ company, too.

and beomgyu has stay true to his words about making this summer the best three months break of your life.

“you look pretty already,” aunty sue says behind you as you’re busy fixing the strands of your hair framing your face.

turning to look at her, you pout. “i’m not.”

“beomgyu thinks you are.”

you blush, looking into the mirror to avoid your aunt’s teasing eyes. “i’m done, let’s go.”

“you’re not going with beomgyu?” she asks as the both of you are walking down the hill, a rattan basket in your hand.

“he said he’ll meet me there,” you explain. “he has to help his mom with the bakery booth.”

“ah, right. i forgot about that.”

another new thing you get to experience in this small town is their annual summer festival. aunty sue had told you that the town’s mayor came up with the idea of making the festival around a decade ago

in an attempt to give some sort of entertainment for the kids and teenagers, and also the adults, in the town during the season. it was a great success the first year it was being held — with more than

thirty booths of various foods and games. hence, why the summer festival has become the town’s annual event now.

as you reach the festival’s venue which is being held by the beach, you see soobin and yeonjun chattering at a booth near the entrance. you hand aunty sue the basket before excusing yourself to talk to the boys.

“yeonjun! soobin!” you call out, running up towards them. “oooh, y/n! you look so cute!” soobin exclaims excitedly as you stop in front of him. “but not as cute as choi odi, though.”

“choi odi?” you question and the boy nods “my pet.”

“a cat?”

“no, a hedgehog.”

you grimace — what’s with this group of friends and their weird animals as pet?

“what? you don’t think hedgehogs are cute?” he asks.

no, they look like rat — is what you wanted to say but you don’t have the heart to voice those words out from the look soobin is giving you. “yeah, they are… not bad.” you say before moving your gaze

away from him.

yeonjun notices the way your eyes are scanning around for the familiar mob of brown hair in the sea of visitors, and he chuckles. “his booth is on the other side,” he says. “want us to show you the way?”

your cheeks flushed from being caught but you thank him, anyways. “it’s okay, i’ll go by myself. i’ll see you guys later, then!” you say, walking away from them while waving.

you were about to walk around, trying to find his mom’s bakery booth when you hear your phone’s notification inside your bag. pulling it out, you smile as you read the name of the sender.

beomgyu: where u at, pretty girl? i saw your aunt but not you.

you quickly type in your reply.

you: i’m at a cotton candy stall near the entrance, omw to find u

beomgyu: stay there. i’ll go to u.

after waiting for a while, you spot him walking over to you — dressed in a white button up shirt, tucked inside his black jeans. hair slightly dishevelled from the ocean breeze. he has a smile across his face as

he keeps coming closer to where you’re waiting for him.

even in the sea of people, choi beomgyu is the only one that caught your eyes. you could be in a big ballroom of a masquerade party and the only one that has your attention is still choi beomgyu — there’s

just something about him that you can’t seem to explain that make you only look at him and him only.

you look up to him when he stops in front of you, the smile from earlier getting wider. “hi, pretty.” he says before his hand reaches up to your face, tugging the strands of hair behind your ear neatly. this

has been a little habit of his that he really loves doing whenever he sees your hair getting on your face — never once have you told him that you purposely let those strands untied.

“the firework show will be at 8pm, so we will have around,” he checks his phone, “hour and half to walk around. what do you want to do?”

“you’re not helping your mom’s booth?”

“my brother is here, so he’ll be helping mom for today.” he says, peeking to the stall behind you. “wanna try the cotton candy?”

there is already a line of children waiting for their turns to get the sweet treats in various shapes —heart, bunny, flower, and even a unicorn. when it reaches your turn, beomgyu asks you what shape

you would like for your candy, and you eagerly point at the bear on the menu sheet.

“here’s your order, mr. lover boy.” the man says, handing the stick of the bear-shaped cotton candy to beomgyu. “enjoy your time here, lovebirds.”

“we’re not-…”

“thank you, we will.” taking the candy from the man, beomgyu put his hand on the small of your back, leading you away from the line.

you look up at him, blush evident on your cheeks. why didn’t he deny the man earlier? lovebirds? love, really? “beomgyu, why didn’t you-..” you pause mid-sentence when he hands you the cotton candy.

looking up at him, then down to the cotton candy that is still in his hand, then up to him again and down to the candy again, you let out a laugh.

he furrows his eyebrow questioningly, “what so funny?”

taking out your phone, you open the camera app. “stand still.”

he complies, standing still with the cotton candy in hand all the while you’re giggling and snapping multiple pictures of him. “are you done?” he whines.

you show him the photo on your phone screen, swiping right to let him see the rest of his pictures you’ve taken. “the bear looks just like you!”

“is it funny to you?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your waist as he tickles your side. you squirm in his hold, laughing harder. “it is, because it looks exactly like you- ah! beomgyu, stop tickling me!”

he holds onto the stick of the cotton candy tighter as his other arm is still wrapped around your waist. beomgyu has always known of how beautiful you look when you smile and laugh, but, oh god. right

now, where you’re laughing to your heart’s content, in his arm, dressed in the loveliest white summer dress he has ever seen, with the warm glow of the sun slowly setting, he swears nothing else is as

beautiful as you. not even close.

“beomgyu, please stop. i’m going to pee.” you beg, tears from laughing pooling in your eyes. he lets you go slowly before handing the cotton candy to you which you gladly take.

“let’s go,” he says as he takes your free hand in his, pulling you into the gleeful summer festival.

you spent a good hour touring around the festival — eating tanghulu and few other famous street foods. playing random games at the game booths even though you knew they were all rigged, it was

still fun — beomgyu did won you a small teddy bear keychain from the dart game.

you visited your aunt’s stall too, where she’s selling little handcrafted trinkets. you couldn’t ignore the cheeky smile she sent you when she saw the way beomgyu was holding onto your hand.

then, you went to his mom’s booth where you met his brother for the first time. you were kind of expecting the teasing from him, but you didn’t know it would be so bad to the point you had to ask beomgyu for a glass of water, afraid you might suddenly pass out from the excessive blood rush.

it was fun. you don’t think you have experienced this much fun in your life. the last time you felt happy was when you had visited disneyland back when you were ten. with your maid, not with your parents. you don’t think you would have enjoyed it as much if you did go with them.

“we have 10 more minutes before the fireworks show.” beomgyu says as he leans his side against the railing. he had suggested to go up the cliff to have a better view of the firework. you thought it’s going

to be a packed spot but surprisingly there are only three other people there, sitting distance away from where you and beomgyu are standing.

you can feel his stare from the corner of your eyes, making your cheeks flushed. god, is it possible to lose one’s life from immense blushing? if it is, then you’re in a terrible danger.

“have you ever been in love?” he asks suddenly.

at that moment, the only thing you can hear is the loud ringing in your ears. gone the sound of the festive happening down by the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the sound

of the people behind you chattering. the sound of beomgyu’s voice.

have you ever been in love?

have you? you want to say no. you want to tell him that you don’t believe in love — that you would rather believe in the existence of a flying elephant rather than believing in love. you want to tell him

there is no such a thing as love in this world. there is no such a thing as sincere love. people love to get what they desire in return — money, power, status, pride. your parents are a living prove of that.

you want to tell him if there is one thing you are so fucking afraid of in this world, it is to love.

you want to tell him that you don’t think love is worth taking the risk, you don’t think it’s worth fighting for. love is not a real thing. you’ve seen so many people from school getting heartbroken over a

breakup with their lover, only to jump into a new relationship a week after that. if love is a real existing thing then, how could you move on so easily like that?

you so badly want to tell him, but no words come out from your mouth as you stare into his sparkling eyes.

“you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he says after sensing the discomfort on your face.

“have you?”

“yeah,” he says, now facing the sea. “i’m in love with a lot of things — my family, my friends, toto, my bicycle.” he says, shifting on his feet, “i love helping my mom in the bakery, i love writing songs even

when no one listens to it. i love this town, no matter how boring it gets sometimes, i still love it.”

“i love summer,” he says as he turns to face you again. “i love summer because it brought you to me.”

you were about to say something to him when you hear the announcement from the speakers that the fireworks will be going off in the count of three.

ignoring the proclamation, you keep your eyes fixated on his. he is staring at you endearingly, a soft smile on his lips as he takes a step closer towards you.

three

he takes another step forward, until the tips of his shoes are meeting yours.

two

he tugs the strands of your hair behind your ear like he usually does, only this time he didn’t put his hand down, keeping it on the soft skin of your cheek. he rests his other hand on your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him.

one

he tilts his head, leaning down towards your face before stopping, leaving a small gap as he waits for you to make the next move, an unspoken sign of asking for your permission.

and as the fireworks start shooting in the sky, you stand on your tiptoes. hands resting against his chest as you lean forward, closing the gap in between your lips and his soft ones.

it started off with you gently resting your lips on his, until he starts to pull you closer by your waist — where he deepens the kiss.

it feels magical.

the way his lips are massaging softly against your own, the way his thumb is caressing your cheek in the gentlest manner, the way he tightens his hold on your waist — not hard enough to hurt you but

strong enough to keep you in place, the way his heart is beating so fast under your palm. the way the sky is glowing and shimmering brightly with the non-stop fireworks.

he is magical.

it’s not like you have ever kissed a boy before but the way beomgyu is kissing you with so much care, with so much affection, so endearingly, with so much love — you know the kiss is perfect. you just know it is.

because you don’t need a flawless kiss for it to feel complete, all you need is choi beomgyu to be the one kissing you.

to you, choi beomgyu is the epitome of perfection.

the ringing of your phone wakes you up from your deep sleep. reaching over to the vibrating device on the nightstand, you pick up the call without checking the caller id.

“hello?” you say, voice hoarse.

“y/n?” shoot, it’s your mom. “are you still sleeping?”

“uh, yeah. i just… woke up.” you sit up on your bed, eyeing the clock on the wall – 12:04pm. if there is one thing your mom hates, it would be tardiness — in anything, including the time you wake up from

sleep.

“i slept really late last night,” in which you did. after the summer festival, and the whole kissing thing, beomgyu had walked you home. not forgetting to give you another kiss, which felt more like a peck,

before he left. and you had stayed up until almost four in the morning replaying that particular scene on the cliff over and over again in your head.

you hear your mom sighs from the other end, “how you been doing there?”

oh, that’s new.

“it’s been okay,” you twirl the end of your blanket. “aunty sue is a very war-…”

“listen, y/n. i’m kind of busy right now. i just called to remind you about your leave after the summer break.”

and that is when reality hits you.

“your dad thought it would be a good idea if you come home this weekend. to make early preparations.”

shit. how could you forget?

“i’ll send a driver to pick you up this sunday,” she says, and you can hear rustling from her end, “i gotta go.”

when the line goes off, you remain holding your phone against your ear.

how can you get forget? did you forget because you’re too busy having fun here? did you forget because you finally found something, or rather, someone to share your happiness with? did you forget

that you’re only here temporarily, to take a breather from the crowded city? did you forget that you’re not supposed to be attached to anyone?

you’re leaving. you’re leaving the country in september. you’re leaving for a university on the other side of the world. you’re leaving your home. you’re leaving this town.

you’re leaving beomgyu.

beomgyu.

these past months, you have been engulfing yourself too much into whatever temporary fantasy he had created for you. you were so into it that you started to brush away all of your beliefs that have

been your pillar your whole life. you were so blinded by the happiness he had brought you that you started making an exception for him.

and for the first time in two months, for the first time since you have arrived in this small town with an ocean view, for the first time since you met the boy whose eyes shine brighter than any stars in the night sky — you want to be anywhere but here.

you know you’re being a jerk to beomgyu — ignoring his calls and text messages, lying to him about coming down with a fever, forcing aunty sue to make up whatever excuses she could think of

whenever the boy stopped by to catch a glimpse of you, pretending to be sleeping whenever you saw him standing under the lamppost outside of the house at night.

you’re being irrelevant and you know that better than anyone else. but you can’t find any other way to explain to him about everything — you’re not ready and you don’t know how to. you know he’s in

love with you, and maybe, just maybe, you do harbour the same feeling for him as well — but you're in denial.

love does not exist.

that’s what you’ve been telling yourself every day.

you’re going back home tomorrow, and you have successfully avoided beomgyu up until this point. until aunty sue had to (almost) beg on her knees asking you to deliver an official government letter to

the choi’s place. she had come down with a summer fever herself, making you feel bad if you refuse to help.

and that’s how you find yourself inside the the bakery’s kitchen that saturday afternoon, a brown envelope in hand. you are glad it is saturday — meaning beomgyu is not around as he always spends

the day at taehyun’s place.

you peek around the kitchen, no one in sight. there’s no one behind the register in the bakery too. is the shop closed?

you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, turning around with the envelope still in hand, “mrs. choi, aunty sue asked me to-…”

you blink, hands coming down to your sides.

leaving the brown paper on top of the counter, you were about to make an escape before you feel his hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back to him.

“y/n,”

“let me go,” you say under your breath.

he pushes you against the wall, trapping your body. “are you okay?”

out of all the things he could be saying to you right now, he’s asking you if you’re okay? out of all the mean things he could be spitting to you right now for ignoring him without explanation, the words

that came out from his mouth are those of endearment.

you avoid his eyes, afraid that you might break if you catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. “i’m fine.”

“then why have you been ignoring me?”

“i wasn’t feeling well.”

“then, that means you’re not okay.” he says softly, “look at me, y/n.”

you look up at him, tears pooling your eyes. “why are you being so difficult?!” you didn’t mean to scream in his face, but at this point, your brain has lose control — your body moving according to your

heart.

beomgyu is taken aback by your sudden outburst, “what?”

“why are you making it a big deal that i’m not talking or hanging out with you anymore?”

“how am i supposed to not make it a big deal when the person i’m in love with is pushing me away?” there, he said it.

“love?” you say, while trying your hardest to keep your tears from falling. “there is no such a thing as love in this world, beomgyu.”

“are you saying my feelings for you are invalid? of course, there is. there’s love everywhere in this world.”

“no, there’s none!” you scream again, “how can you fall in love with someone within, what? two months? that’s unrealistic, beomgyu.”

“you don’t need years to fall in love with someone, y/n. you can be by someone’s side for decades, shares one roof, sits at the same dinner table and sleeps on the same bed for years and years onwards

but if there is no love then there will be no love until the end.” he raises his voice slightly.

you finally let your tears fall as images of your parents cross your mind — of how unhappy they are with each other, of how their eyes never hold any kind of affection for one another. they have been

married for almost two decades now — live under the same roof, eat at the same dinner table, sleep on the same bed, wear the same silver bands around their ring fingers – but the love was never there. it’s never going to be there.

if there is no love then there will be no love until the end.

they are the reason why you’re acting the way you are now.

"i don’t need years to fall in love with you, y/n.” he wipes the tears on your cheek gently, “the moment i saw you that one summer afternoon, i knew i was falling head over heels for you.” he pauses,

searching for your eyes. “i knew that i’m in love with you.”

“tell me, y/n… did i do anything wrong? is it the kiss?” he asks, “i’m sorry i stepped over my boundaries.”

“it’s not the kiss,” you whisper.

“then? what’s bothering you, baby?”

more tears come out of your eyes at the nickname, “this whole thing,” you gesture to him and you, “you know it’s not going to last, right?”

he shakes his head, “no, i know you’re going to back to the city after the break, but we’ll make it work. it’s not even that far. you know people do anything for their loved ones, right?”

you take a deep breath, before wailing loudly, not caring about anything anymore. “you’re not gonna love me anymore after i leave, beomgyu. and i’m not talking about going back to the city. i’m leaving the country soon, to the other side of the world, for four fucking years, choi beomgyu!”

“i’ll wait for you, i promise.”

“no one is that stupid enough to wait for someone for that long. why take the risk of waiting years for someone? what if i suddenly came back with a boyfriend, or a fiancé?”

“you worth all the risk in the world, y/n.”

“why are you making things difficult for me?” you push him off of you before you make a run for the door. you continue running up the hill, tears still spilling out your eyes.

you stop, looking back to where you came running from. he doesn’t come chasing after you.

and a part of you wish that he did.

“is this the last one?” your driver asks as he loads the last of your luggage into the car’s boot.

you nod, thanking him to which he replies with a nod of his head. turning to face your aunt, you take her hand in yours. “thank you for taking care of me in the past two months.”

she smiles, rubbing on the back of your hand with her thumb. “are you sure you don’t want to see him first?”

you shake your head and the woman just nods hers before pulling you into a hug. it’s warm. she has always been warm, ever since the first time she picked you up at the train station. she has treated you

like nothing less than a family member, though you and her are very distant relatives.

“i’ll miss you.”

“i’ll miss you too, honey.” she caresses your hair. “come back soon, hm?”

you nod, moving away from her warm hold. “bye, aunty sue.”

as the car drives past the familiar bakery, you look down to your lap, droplets of tears wetting the thin fabric of your skirt.

and just like that, your temporary happiness ends.

the leaves start to wilt, slowly turning brown as the season transition from summer to autumn. the temperature getting colder and colder as each day passed by. no more scorching sun, no more clear

blue sky, no more children running around by the beach.

he stands on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. nothing much has changed since three years ago — except some parts of the railing has awfully broken down. honestly, he prefers it that way — the town not

changing. the way the town looks boring to an outsider, but actually holds a lot of hidden wonders.

the town holds a lot of dear memories to him. this is the town he has grown up in, the town that taught him all the life lessons that made him the person he is today, the town that brought him a girl

that he could never forget, even in his next life.

he looks over to the sea. if he swims far enough, would he reach the other side of the world? to where you are right now?

three years.

it has been three years since he last heard anything from you. it’s not like he didn’t try reaching out to you, he did, multiple times. he tried calling your phone, only to be greeted with the same bot telling

him that the number is no longer in service. he tried looking up for your social media — facebook, instagram, anything. but nothing ever came up with your name aside from a profile website of your

family, a picture of fifteen years old you under the words ‘daughter of a successful businessman and the uprising fashion designer’. he thought you look adorable in the picture, despite the lack of life in

your eyes.

three years went by and you still haven’t come back.

three years and all he could think about every day is you.

you, you, you.

his friends have been telling him to just let it go, telling him it was just a summer fling, telling him it’s time for him to move on, to go meet new people in college.

but he didn’t. he knows what is worth it in his life — you are worth the wait, the risk, everything.

he tugs his hands inside the pocket of his coat, the air is getting so chilly despite it being only september.

“thought i would find you here,”

he turns his head so fast as he hears the familiar voice, he thought he might get a whiplash from it. but as he stares at the figure standing across from him, he thinks he is experiencing more than a whiplash right now.

there you are, standing five feet apart from him. he roams his eyes over your smiling face, and he wonders how is it possible for someone to be this beautiful. you look different from the last time he

saw you, in a good way.

your hair is slightly shorter compared to three years ago, you have lost the baby fats on your cheeks too, making your cheekbones stand out when you smile, and your eyes, they no longer look like the one he saw on the last day he saw you, or in the picture from the internet. your eyes are filled with life now, sparkling under the grey sky of the autumn morning.

“i went to your mom’s bakery but you weren’t around. figured you would be-…” you didn’t get to finish your sentence as the man takes a long stride towards you before pulling you into his arms.

he holds the back of your head with one hand, pressing your nose against the base of his neck while his other hand is wrapped around your waist.

he still smells the same — a mixture of frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, and bergamot waters.

even in a different season, he still smells like summer.

you wrap your arms around him, “sorry i took too long.”

shaking his head, he wraps his arm tighter around you figure — afraid that you might suddenly evaporate into thin air, and this is just another night dream of his. “no, thank you for coming back.”

“thank you, too. for waiting for me.”

he pulls you away from his neck, staring deep into your eyes. “i promised i would wait for you, didn’t i?”

you nod, smiling up at him happily. you notice how he had grown few inches since the last time you saw him that one afternoon in the back of his mom’s bakery, from the way your neck is straining so

much looking up at him. his hair is no longer the deep shade of brown anymore, it's ash grey now.

he leans down, tilting his head as he nudges your nose with his — waiting for you to close the distance between his lips and yours, just like what he did that one summer night, in this exact same spot.

and as you finally rest your lips upon his — you think about how choi beomgyu is worth all the risk that you’ve took. the arguments with your parents because they kept opposing the idea of you dating a

nameless boy from a small town, the cramped semesters because you wanted to cut one semester off so you can come back to him a year sooner, the longing and aching feeling for him you got whenever

your friends in university talk about their partners. at the end, there were all worth it.

choi beomgyu is worth it.

you are still a firm believer of love does not exist. it’s hard to get rid of that idea when you’ve been sticking to it almost all of your life. and given that your parents’ eyes still lack of love and affection for

each other even after being married for a whole two decades now, it’s impossible to accept that there is love out there for everyone.

but to you; love exists in a form of a boy whose eyes shine brighter than any stars in the night sky, and that is all that matters to you.

and to choi beomgyu; even under the cloudy and gloomy autumn morning sky, with wilted leaves dancing around in the air with the wind, with the temperature getting colder and colder as day passed

by, it feels like summer to him — because it doesn’t matter where he is, or what season it is, whenever he’s with you, it feels like summer.

[inkmonster21]

Can you please with a cherry on top write. (Au where Cornelia died after blue eyes birth) Where Caesar is thinking of having reader as his mate but Koba keeps saying she will hurt the colony and baby blue eyes so when blue eyes normally goes to reader during the day Caesar takes him to another female ape and reader is confused and hurt but doesn't say anything until blue eyes sneaks away to be with reader and then Caesar realises reader is perfect mother and mate material. Thank you. :)))))))

And I just don't Koba. 😒

Okay… this is my VERY FIRST time writing for Caesar. I think I like it… I hope you do!

~

Motherly Instincts

Caesar's grief was palpable as he mourned the loss of Cornelia, his mate, and the mother of his child. The pain of her passing was a heavy burden on his heart, and he struggled to come to terms with the void she had left behind. Though Blue Eyes brought joy to his life, the absence of his mate left a deep sense of sorrow and emptiness within him.

Your journey started soon after, with Maurice finding you abandoned and in dire straits, your life hanging in the balance. You were emaciated and weak, struggling to survive on your own. Maurice, filled with compassion and care, stepped in to rescue you, bringing you into their family and providing the love and nurturing you desperately needed.

Blue Eyes, took an immediate liking to you. With small, delicate hands, the infant would reach out, seemingly drawn to you. Your presence would bring a ray of light into the weary days, your smile able to brighten the darkest of moods. Your connection with Blue Eyes was instantaneous and deep, a bond that would only grow stronger as time passed.

One particular morning, Caesar sensed a subtle but profound shift in his heart. He stood watching Blue Eyes with you, witnessing the bond between you and his child. There was a tenderness in your interactions, an affinity that stirred within him. As he observed the two of you together, he felt a protective instinct flare up deep inside him, recognizing that your connection with Blue Eyes went beyond mere friendship.

Caesar observed you interacting with his son from his spot next to Maurice. He couldn't help but notice a small smile forming on his face as he watched the gentle way you handled Blue Eyes.

Maurice, perceptive as ever, noticed Caesar's expression and signed to his friend, "Human treats Blue Eyes well…. be good mother… and mate." There was a hint of playful teasing in his sign.

Caesar's response was nonchalant, signaling that he wasn't opposed to the idea at all. He had grown fond of you, engaging in personal conversations and even sharing meals together. The bond between the two of you had grown beyond mere acquaintance, and there was a sense of comfort and familiarity in your interactions. Caesar recognized the potential the idea held, a thought he couldn't dismiss.

Koba, on the other hand, had a completely different perspective on the matter. His attitude towards you was one of caution and wariness. He seemed to view you as an outsider, someone who didn't quite fit into their world. His distrust was evident in the way he observed your interactions with Blue Eyes and Caesar, a constant skepticism lurking behind his gaze.

Koba points down at you, a look of disdain in his eyes. He motions to you with a sense of accusation, his signs conveying his distrust. "Human...ruin...home..." he signs. The message is clear - Koba believes you are a threat, someone who will destroy their way of life. He warns of your potential to tear their home apart.

As Caesar continues to watch you, his heart is torn between two conflicting desires - the safety and stability of the colony, and his own happiness, a rare sentiment for him to consider. The decision he needed to make weighed heavily on his mind, as he grappled with the opposing forces pulling him in different directions.

You can't help but let out a laugh as Blue Eyes cling to you, refusing to let go. You try gently to peel his small hands away, attempting to tuck him into his nest for the night.

"You have to go to sleep," you tell him, a mix of sternness and affection in your voice. Blue Eyes, however, is stubborn, holding on to you with a strong grip, unwilling to give in to your attempts to make him rest.

Caesar enters his home quietly, catching you amid your struggle with Blue Eyes. A soft smile graces his lips as he observes the scene before him, and he speaks softly. "He likes you," he muses, his voice filled with gentle warmth. The sight of you trying to put the stubborn Blue Eyes to sleep seems to bring a touch of amusement to Caesar.

As soon as Blue Eyes notices Caesar, the youngster eagerly dashes towards his father, enveloping him in a loving embrace. You watch the heartwarming moment with a flutter in your heart, appreciating the undeniable bond between father and son. Caesar reciprocates the embrace, his strong yet gentle arms wrapping around Blue Eyes. It's evident in this interaction that Caesar is not only a great leader but also an incredible father, effortlessly balancing his responsibilities with affection and love towards his child.

Caesar hums softly as he picks up Blue Eyes, settling the young ape onto his hip. He turns his gaze towards you, his eyes filled with both tenderness and a hint of concern. “He gives you… trouble today?” he asks, referring to Blue Eyes’ stubborn refusal to go to sleep.

You shrug and let out a small laugh, explaining the situation. "He just doesn't want to go to sleep," you say. As you ruffle the soft fur on Blue Eyes' head, you add, "He's just being stubborn." Caesar nods, a mixture of affection and understanding in his eyes. He knows his son's stubborn nature all too well.

Blue Eyes, perched on Caesar's lap, glances at you and extends a small hand, signing a "stay." His request is simple and endearing as if he doesn't want you to leave.

Your heart swells as Blue Eyes looks at you, signing his small hands to ask you to stay, but you know you have to go back to your own sleeping space. "I have to go to my own nest, Blue," you tell him gently, a hint of regret in your voice.

Caesar's words come out swiftly, his mouth moving quickly before his mind catches up. His eyes widen slightly as he realizes what he's just said, a sense of surprise and mild embarrassment evident in his expression. "You could... stay," he repeats, his voice laced with a mixture of uncertainty and unexpected invitation.

Silence hangs in the air as Caesar's words linger. It's a moment of realization for both you and Caesar, as the weight of the unexpected invitation settles in. The usually composed ape king seems momentarily caught off guard by his suggestion, his gaze locked on you, awaiting your response.

As Caesar's words hang in the air, your eyes widen in surprise. You grapple with the question of his intentions - did he truly want you to stay, or was he simply trying to appease his son? It's difficult to hide the fact that your own feelings for Caesar have begun to bloom, a secret that's becoming harder to keep hidden. The tension between you and Caesar is palpable, waiting for your response to his unexpected invitation.

Silence once again blankets the space between you and Caesar, the air thick with anticipation. The usually composed ape king keeps his gaze fixed on you, his eyes searching your face for any hint of how you are feeling about his proposal. He appears to be silently pleading, hoping you'll accept his invitation.

“If you want.” Caesar's eyes flicker with a mix of relief and anticipation at your response. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, a sense of hope and a hint of vulnerability in his expression. It's clear that Caesar is silently yearning for you to stay, his desire evident in the way he watches you.

Blue Eyes, seemingly sensing your decision, crawls into your lap and snuggles against you, seeking the comfort of your embrace. The young ape's gesture is sweet and poignant as if expressing his approval of your decision to stay. Caesar watches the interaction, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You glance down at Blue Eyes, who is now comfortably snuggled in your lap. A smile graces your lips as you gently speak to him, asking, "Now you ready?" The young ape responds with a soft, satisfied murmur, appearing more relaxed and sleepy now that you've agreed to stay.

You move to the back, cradling Blue Eyes gently in your arms. You hold him close, snuggling with him until he finally drifts off to sleep, his little body relaxing and his hold on you loosening. The sight is heartwarming, as Blue Eyes finds comfort and security in your presence, his sleepy form at peace in his nest.

You press a gentle kiss to Blue Eyes' forehead, a tender gesture of affection. As you slowly move to exit the nest, a sense of satisfaction fills your chest. The sight of the young ape sleeping peacefully brings a smile to your face, a sense of accomplishment in having helped soothe him to sleep.

As you step back into the firelight, your mind is abuzz with thoughts, contemplating the significance of your decision to stay. Caesar remains seated by the fire, waiting for your arrival with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. The air between you seems to crackle with tension, the weight of the moment palpable.

The moment is interrupted by the sudden appearance of Koba, his ominous shadow casting a presence in the doorway. He stands there, silhouetted in the darkness, his figure a stark contrast against the flickering firelight. His presence is unexpected, adding an extra layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.

Koba's gaze settles on you, his eyes filled with a cold suspicion that has lingered since the very beginning. The sight of you in Caesar's personal space, in his nest, seems to heighten his distrust. It's clear from the way he looks at you that Koba is more convinced than ever that you are a threat, a danger to their community.

You can't help but feel small and vulnerable under the intense glare of Koba's gaze. His suspicions and wariness towards you are palpable, and it's clear that his presence at this moment is not a simple coincidence. His eyes follow your every movement as if silently judging your every action.

Caesar, aware of the tension in the air, rises to his feet, addressing Koba directly. "What is it… Koba?" he asks, his voice calm yet firm. Caesar's stance is one of composure, but there's an edge to his words, a subtle warning to the other ape.

The moment hangs in the air, a triangle of tension forming between you, Koba, and Caesar. The ape king waits for Koba's response, his gaze fixated on the other ape's face, his body language displaying a mixture of authority and caution.

Sensing the mounting tension, you take the initiative to stand, intending to leave the situation. "Um, Caesar," you say, your voice somewhat shaky. "I will just see you tomorrow." You make a move to exit, but before you go, you turn to Caesar and bid him a soft, "Goodnight." The atmosphere is thick with an uneasy energy as you navigate past the two apes, attempting to distance yourself from the intense exchange.

As you leave, Koba's gaze follows you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hostility and disdain. The sight of you descending back to your home, your status lower than his, seems to only fuel his suspicions and dislike towards you.

Koba, his voice dripping with venomous suspicion, questions Caesar, "Why…human here? In...Caesar...home?" His words are laced with distrust, suggesting that he can't fathom why you're in Caesar's personal space. Kobo doesn't trust your presence in the ape king's home.

Caesar's response is firm and straightforward, yet tinged with a hint of protectiveness. "Blue Eyes wanted her... here," he repeats. Despite the simplicity of the answer, there's no denying the protective tone in his voice. Caesar's decision to allow you to stay is rooted in his son's comfort and desire for your presence.

Koba's scoff carries a hint of ridicule as if the idea of Blue Eyes being the sole reason for your presence seems unlikely to him. He poses a question. "Blue Eyes... or Caesar?" The implication is clear - Koba suspects that Caesar's desires, rather than just his son's need, are at play in your presence.

Caesar averts his gaze from his friend, Koba. Despite the challenges Koba presents, his loyalty and contributions to Caesar cannot be denied. The ape king seems caught between his trust in Koba and his feelings regarding your presence. The dilemma is evident in his expression.

Caesar's voice takes on a persuasive tone as he defends your presence, "She is helpful... with Blue Eyes. She cares... for us." There's a hint of determination in his words, a conviction that your presence has been beneficial for his son and the community as a whole. His argument suggests that your role in caring for Blue Eyes is a valid reason for your accommodation in his home.

Koba's scoff becomes louder and more pointed, his words taking on a harsher tone. "She will... kill. us all... all... humans do!" The ape's distrust and skepticism towards your kind are evident in his statement. He strongly believes that humans, like you, pose a threat that cannot be ignored. The weight of his fear and suspicion hangs heavily in the air.

Koba presses on, his tone growing more intense, "You wait... too long... and Blue Eyes... will be... gone... be... her fault." His statement takes on a sinister quality as if he sees your presence as a ticking time bomb for the safety and well-being of the younger apes. Koba's belief in your destructive nature is clear, and he seems convinced that you pose a significant risk to the ape community.

Koba's words hit a nerve in Caesar, igniting a spark of fear within him. The king of the apes, although hopeful for humanity, has had more negative experiences with humans than positive ones. The stark reality of this imbalance weighs heavily on Caesar's mind, and Koba's warning only serves to further deepen the ape king's doubts and reservations.

As Caesar ponders Koba's words, a wave of uncertainty washes over him. Perhaps Koba does have a point, and your presence could be detrimental to the colony or even to himself. Doubts begin to cloud Caesar's mind, casting a shadow over his previous conviction to keep you near.

Early in the morning, you approach Caesar's dwelling, making your presence known before entering. You knock gently on the threshold, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The moment feels significant, as you prepare to enter Caesar's private space and be closer to the ape king.

You greet Caesar with a warm smile as you spot him basking in the sun while gazing out over his land. "Good morning," you say, your voice soft yet cheerful. The sight of Caesar in this moment, seemingly at peace amidst the beauty of nature, evokes a sense of calm and awe within you.

You notice Caesar's silent nod in response, but there are no words exchanged. You instinctively glance around for Blue Eyes, your eyes searching for the young ape's presence. However, his absence catches your attention, leaving you curious about his whereabouts.

You ask the question that lingers on your mind, "Where's Blue Eyes?" Your voice carries a hint of concern, as you wonder about the young ape’s whereabouts. Caesar continues to gaze out at the landscape before replying, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Caesar's response answers your question, "With Ginger… With other young." There's a tinge of melancholy in his voice, and he doesn't turn to face you. The mention of Blue Eyes spending time with the other young apes and Ginger stirs an unexpected pang in your heart.

“Oh, okay.” You approach Caesar, attempting to engage him in conversation or perhaps suggesting an outing, but Caesar's response is curt. "No... very busy," he says, shaking his head. The firmness in his tone and the lack of eye contact suggest that he's preoccupied and not particularly interested in conversation or spending time together at the moment.

Caesar moves past you without another word, his footsteps echoing with a sense of firmness. The sudden departure leaves you standing alone, baffled by his aloof behavior. You're left with a mixture of emotions - confusion, disappointment, and perhaps a hint of hurt at the abrupt end of your attempt at connecting with him.

As days pass, you notice that Blue Eyes is consistently sent with any female ape except for you. This repeated pattern doesn’t escape your notice, and a feeling of unease starts to take hold. It becomes clear that there’s a deliberate effort to keep you apart from Caesar's son, and the reason behind it remains a mystery. The thought that something might be wrong gnaws at you, and you can’t shake the sense that there's more to this situation than meets the eye.

You try to think of any possible reason for the sudden distance. Did you do something wrong? Were you disrespectful in some way? No matter how hard you wrack your brain, you can’t come up with an answer. The lack of explanations and the persistent sense of exclusion leave you feeling confused and frustrated.

Caesar walks by you once again, his eyes avoiding direct contact. There's a sense of detachment in his demeanor as if he can't bring himself to acknowledge your presence. The indifference in his gaze is palpable, leaving you feeling invisible in his world.

At dinner, Blue Eyes attempts to make his way towards you, Koba intervenes, quickly stopping the young ape. "Dangerous," Koba hisses, his finger pointing in your direction. Caesar observes the scene, seeing the confusion in his son's eyes and the clear desire to approach you. Blue Eyes' longing to find comfort in your presence is evident, and the situation tugs at Caesar's heartstrings.

As you discreetly excuse yourself from the gathering, Caesar's eyes follow your movements, noticing your early departure. He's aware of your absence, even if he doesn't express any reaction outwardly. Caesar watches as his son, Blue Eyes, follows your path, sneaking off in your direction. The young ape's determination to find you is evident and Caesar can't help but observe the connection between you two.

Caesar rises to his feet, his attention now fully on following after you and Blue Eyes. His instincts kick in as he realizes the need to keep an eye on the young ape and the dynamic between you two.

Caesar continues to watch as you both approach your humble dwelling, situated at the very bottom of the colony. The location is not lost on him, as the desolate and cold surroundings stand out starkly compared to the rest of the colony. The physical distance from him adds another layer to the complexity of the situation.

Caesar wants you closer to him, not just physically but emotionally as well. The realization of this desire adds an extra layer to Caesar's complex feelings towards you.

Blue Eyes, feeling the effects of being separated from you, clings to you desperately, hooting and crying in distress. It's clear that the little monkey is overwhelmed by the situation, and the physical separation from you has taken its toll. The young ape seeks comfort and reassurance in your presence.

You regard Blue Eyes with a soft smile, but sadness lurks within your heart. "You're not supposed to be here, Blue," you gently remind him, your voice filled with a mix of concern and warmth. It's clear that you understand the complexity of the situation, and the fact that the young ape shouldn't be at your dwelling alone adds an extra layer of worry to your expression.

A deep voice pierces the air as Caesar steps into your home, the dimly lit surroundings casting an air of mystery. He speaks with a hint of regret, his words carrying the weight of his realization. "seems... I have been foolish," Caesar admits, his voice filled with a mixture of introspection and remorse.

As you look up at Caesar, a mix of confusion and surprise shows on your face. The sudden appearance of the ape king in your home after the distant treatment of the past several days puzzles you. With Blue Eyes in your arms, you explain, "He came to me." There's a hint of defense in your words as if you feel the need to justify the situation.

Caesar responds with a soft smile, his demeanor slightly softening. His words carry a tone of understanding, "I know." There's a subtle admission in his acknowledgment, suggesting that he knew all along about his son's actions.

Caesar takes a step closer, his movements deliberate and somewhat intense. The distance between you both shrinks as he moves closer, his gaze fixed on you.

The air seems to thicken with tension as Caesar comes closer, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. His presence is both authoritative and intriguing, and you can't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. In the dimly lit space, the power dynamic between you and the ape king is palpable.

Caesar's voice breaks the silence as he regards the sight of Blue Eyes clinging to you. His words carry a hint of resignation and understanding. "He needs you," Caesar murmurs, his gaze fixed on the young ape's desperate hold on you. He's acknowledged the bond between you and his son, and the depth of Blue Eyes' attachment to you.

Caesar's expression falters, and it's clear that there's more he wants to say. His eyes remain fixed on you and the child, a mix of emotions playing across his features. There's a conflict within him, a struggle between his thoughts and his words.

Caesar's voice is soft and hesitant as he utters his words, "I... need you." The statement hangs in the air, filled with vulnerability and a hint of uncertainty. It's a confession that seems difficult for him to vocalize, suggesting that his dependence on you runs deeper than he anticipated.

Caesar's hand moves gently to cup your face, his palm warm against your skin. His gaze locks with yours, and the intensity of his eyes pierces through the dim lighting. There's a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a hint of raw emotion that betrays the stoic ape king's usual demeanor.

Caesar moves closer, his head descending to meet yours. In the intimate space, your foreheads touch, and the connection between you two becomes electric. The touch is filled with a potent mix of passion and vulnerability as if he can no longer resist the pull between you two.

Caesar's voice is firm yet gentle as he speaks, his words carrying a sense of finality. "You will stay... with us... from now on," he says, his head still pressed against yours. There's a subtle possessiveness in his tone as if he's claiming you for himself and his son.

The realization of being a family with Caesar and Blue Eyes settles upon you, a powerful notion that fills your heart with a mixture of joy and responsibility. The idea of the three of you together as a unified unit strengthens the connection between you all, forging an unbreakable bond built on love and loyalty.

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Chapter 2

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

Neteyam is aged up.

CW: lots of fluff, childhood friends to lovers, reader loves na'vi children so much and dreams about being a mom one day, angst, the whole Sully family loves reader (including Neteyam but she doesn't know that yet lol)

Author's note: as this is an Avatar AU, reader doesn't need a mask to breathe Pandora's air and not die. Maybe because she was born there, never left and was adopted by a na'vi woman since she was a really small child, she was gradually exposed to Pandora's environment and some kind of mutation happened, so she can breathe, because her body adapted to survive in the planet without the need of a technological device. Idk if it makes sense at all honestly, but, what the hell, fanfics are supposed to be fun and not make 100% of sense, so... just try to not think too much about it n enjoy ahaha

♡

Chapter 1

♡

"Oh my God, such a cute little thing you are" You said while squeezing Tuk in your arms. Even though she was bigger than you because she was a na'vi child after all, you held her like a human toddler. You loved her so much, as if she was your own child. And she loved you too. She was giggling so happily while you squeezed her tight. She was so fond of you that Neytiri would always leave you to take care of her when she left for a hunt. She trusted you, thought you were a really good kid. And you were known in the tribe for helping na'vi mothers with their children. From babies to pre-teens.

You thought Neytiri to be such a beautiful and wise na'vi woman. You desired to be like her one day. You also wanted to have a big beautiful family like hers but that thought would always soon turn from a happy one to one that filled you with angst and sorrow. You were just a human after all, left to the care of a sweet na'vi lady after your parents died in a battle against the Sky People when they came back to Pandora once again. Those horrible days are over now, thank Eywa. Your biology was so different from the na'vi that you didn't even know if it was possible for you to get pregnant from mating with a na'vi male. There are couples of a na'vi and a human out there but none of them ever tried to conceive a hybrid child. The closer someone got to it was the Sully kids who have na'vi and human blood running in their veins but their father had an Avatar body, not a human one, so, it's technically not the same. Why couldn't you just marry a human guy and have a human child?, you may ask. Well, you never knew how to say it without sounding weird but you never felt attracted to the males of your own species. They just looked so plain and boring next to the na'vi men, so passionate, family-oriented and fearless. And also, you couldn't deny that the way they towered over you and their blue skin that shone in the dark because of their freckles played a big part in your feelings too. Yeah, that will never not sound pervy.

You wished you could just mate with the na'vi you fell in love with, but you didn't even know if Neteyam would ever look at you that way. Your small, soft frame might look weird to him. Specially since you were really curvy and a bit fat even for human standards. But still, you dreamt about his big hands touching your skin and his blue beautiful lips kissing yours, so tenderly. Sometimes you woke up and cried, realizing it was indeed just a dream and you were alone laying in your mat.

The na'vi woman you learned to call "mom", Ao'ite, took you as if you had been born from her womb, she always showed you love and took great care of you. And even though she was a great mother to you and you loved her so very much, you never felt like it was enough. It pained you to say it because it sounded ungrateful and even cruel, but you always wondered what it would be like if your parents hadn't die. You didn't remember them, since you were only 2 years old when the murders happened, but you always thought that if they had raised you, maybe you would feel like you belonged somewhere. You loved Pandora and would always call it your one and only home, felt so connected to the trees, animals and oceans, but you would never be a na'vi girl. You could never tame and have your own Ikran or go through any important and beautiful thing only the na'vi can do. That crushed your heart.

You were so lost in your thoughts and immersed on Tuk's little laughs, in a mix of sweetness and sadness, that you didn't even notice how Neytiri's and Jake's older son was looking at you. Neteyam had a spark in his amber eyes when he looked at you holding his little sister. He thought you looked so beautiful and motherly when you played with her. He thought you'd be a great mother one day. He knew how much you wanted to have a family and he only wishes he could be your mate and give you little na'vi children. The smile that was adorning his lips died a bit and he looked away. He didn't know if you found him a suitable mate or if you were just disgusted by how different and odd he looked compared to humans. It hurt him to think maybe you could never reciprocate his feelings. He has loved you since you guys were little kids and he saw your - then weird to him - appearance. He was puzzled in the beginning but with only an hour playing together with you, running through the forest, just close enough so his grandma wouldn't lose sight of the two of you, he found his little heart beating fast inside his chest. And it wasn't just because he had been running, he realized. It was because he knew that you were the one he was gonna chose to be his mate, to spend the rest of his life with, no matter how different from him you looked. What confused him in the beginning was now the most beautiful sight to behold. And it never changed. 15 years later, when you're now both 20 and not 5 anymore, he still looked at you like you were the Pandora skies at night. So beautiful and enchanting to look at. He could look at you for hours, and sometimes he almost did, while you were sitting somewhere in the middle of the people, when they reunited to have meals together at night. You were close enough for him to be able to look at you but far enough for him to not be noticed and perceived as a creep to you.

One day Jake sat next to his elder son and realized who he was looking at. He told his son you were a great girl and he should try courting you if he liked you. Neteyam was shy in the beginning and even denied he was looking at you but his dad knew him far too well so, seconds after that, Neteyam sighed and told his father that he truly loved you and wanted you to be his mate. Jake smiled. That reminded him of what he felt when he was being taught the na'vi ways by Neytiri and fell in love with her. He was immeasurably happy when he realized she loved him too. He just wants his son to be happy and he was glad he had chosen you. Jake always felt something good coming from you. You were like him when he was still stuck in his human body: you loved the na'vi ways more than the human ways and wanted to be one of them. He just wishes it wasn't so dangerous for you to be transfered to an Avatar body. You had once told him you would try, just so you could feel like you were one of the people. But in Jake's heart you were and would always be one of them, even if you were a tiny human girl. And he knew most na'vi felt the same about you. You were really loved by the people.

Neteyam looked at you again, as you were holding his little sister's hands and she was asking you to let her braid your hair. You smiled and said yes and she smiled even wider and started touching your hair. You had beautiful, soft hair and it would always end up a bit entangled when Tuk would braid it. She was a child and was still learning so her braiding skills were still not on point. But you didn't care. You always let her braid your hair and would sit patiently while she did. And you would wear the braids she would make for days, even if they looked a bit funny. It was so special to you how that precious na'vi child showed so much love towards you. Such an innocent little soul. You wished so hard that one day you could have your own na'vi child braiding your hair. Na'vi babies were the cutest thing you had ever seen. Even though you would look enormous carrying a na'vi baby in your belly (if that could ever happen, in your wildest dreams) and you probably would feel so heavy and bloated, you just knew without a shadow of doubt that you would love that child more than you loved your own life and die for the little being if you needed to. To protect them from any harm.

Little did you know you had a na'vi in front you willing to give you as many na'vi babies as you'd let him. Neteyam loved you so much it hurt. And little did he know you loved him too. And little did you both know that having a hybrid child was actually possible.

•.°☆•.°☆•.°

Sooo... it's my first fanfic in English and it's not my first language so please be gentle with me and forgive me for any mistakes. This story is gonna have more parts written soon. I'm thinking of writing some smut within the story and maybe put some breeding kink coming from Neteyam and his human loving it. What do you guys think? Would you want me to? Tell me in the comments haha Please, like and/or reblog this post if you like it. Love you guys 💙

[yuesya]

Twin AU Muneyoshi: It's for the best that Shiki dies, it's for the clan and Satoru's future, Hina will understand. Well, surprise! Hina DID NOT understand and used all the rest of her life to protect her daughter, FROM you and said clan. Muneyoshi reeks of copium and self-justification, and was probably only truly called out and confronted with his bullshit when Satoru killed him for it. His wife apparently killing herself over it never got through to him. Yue, what did that 'rampage' look like?

Muneyoshi is calm.

His calmness is one born of faith in his clan, and confidence in his elders. He knows what they have planned, in order to remove the imperfection staining the honored one. It would take… extreme measures, quite understandably. The case that they were dealing with was unprecedented, after all. In all cases of cursed twins throughout the clan’s history, there had never been a case of twins bonding with each other as Satoru had done with… as Satoru had done.

It couldn’t be allowed to stand.

Satoru, he thinks helplessly, Why can’t you just understand?

His son is entirely much too like his mother; the thought strikes him with fondness, and sorrow.

Because the whole point of Muneyoshi dirtying his hands with the deed in the first place was so that Satoru would be free from it. Free, and unchained. Muneyoshi wouldn’t let anything –anyone– hold his son down, and yet Satoru saw fit to snap manacles into place around his own wrists, and willingly chain himself once more.

But he would see reason, someday. Muneyoshi was sure that he would. He was sure that he–

The doors behind him abruptly slam open, and the scent of blood fills the air. Muneyoshi exhales slowly, knowing that the deed is done. His son is finally his own once more. Now, all that’s left is to placate the boy and calm him, so that he will know to–

“Got any last words?”

Muneyoshi turns around with a reprimand on his tongue, and his voice dies in his throat.

… Satoru?

His beloved son is covered in blood. There’s a bloody gash split down the middle of his torso, and Muneyoshi’s mind flickers back to what the elders had said –exceptional circumstances, so exceptional measures will have to be taken– but there’s just, there’s just so much blood.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that it looks like they’d tried to split Satoru open.

But… evidently, that hadn’t actually been the case here. Satoru is bloodied and swaying on his feet, but in one piece and standing, whereas the open doors behind him reveal a conspicuous trail of blood and corpses.

Muneyoshi’s throat tightens. “What have you done, Satoru?”

His son laughs. “You’re asking me? Really? Why don’t you think a little harder about what you and the rest of the clan did?”

The man purses his lips. “This was… necessary. Satoru, you are the honored one. Blessed with Six Eyes, and Limitless. The fate of the clan falls upon your shoulders, and it is your duty to lead the jujutsu world–”

“A world like this? I’d rather burn it to the ground before I lift a single finger to lead it,” his son says coldly, and Muneyoshi flinches at the cutting tone. “Shiki wasn’t hurting anyone. You really couldn’t just leave us alone?”

“She’s a cursed spirit!”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you made her into one!” Six Eyes flash with an unholy, burning glow, and Muneyoshi finds himself frozen in place with sudden terror. “And the brilliant idea of putting together that mockery of a ritual to dig her out of me with a carving knife? Yeah, if I didn’t have Shiki with me, I would be dead, thanks for that!”

Muneyoshi shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, no. You have this wrong, Satoru! The elders wouldn’t have–”

“I was dead for ten solid minutes while Shiki was literally putting me back together!”

Muneyoshi stares blankly at his son, uncomprehending. “… But you’re alive.”

The white-haired boy hisses, a frustrated sound. “Whatever. It’s like talking to a brick wall, I swear… if you don’t have anything sensible to say, then I’m just going to go ahead and get this over with.”

Ah.

… Patricide, is it?

Muneyoshi looks up at his son, who stares down at him like a vengeful god, then nods and carefully places the last few sticks of incense in front of Hina’s shrine. His son can’t hear Muneyoshi’s words, and he’d killed all the elders who’d only wanted what was best for him. Years of effort, all down the drain… but oddly enough, Muneyoshi can’t find himself to be upset about it.

Instead, there’s something inside his chest that feels almost… relieved.

“Not in front of your mother,” is his only request. Muneyoshi closes his eyes. “I… won’t apologize. I regret the pain that this has clearly caused you, but it was necessary, Satoru. I’m not sorry for it.”

His son snorts. “Go to hell.”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn’t die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 18/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake, Donna Troy

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Eighteen: The Campaign: Malatra Pt. 2

We took a break after introductions to get our dinner.  Alfred made chicken alfredo, which was a hit with the guys. I lingered in the kitchen with Hudson for a minute. “How do you feel about DM-ing for the first time?” Hudson asked. 

I sipped my soda. “I feel like you guys are just being nice,” I replied. 

“Trust me, if you sucked we’d all be booing you mercilessly. Do you like it?” Hudson questioned. I nodded as I sipped his drink. 

“Jason! Hudson! Are you guys coming or not?” Tim called. I laughed, shaking off my nerves as I went upstairs with my plate to my room. I took my spot and ate a forkful before falling back into character. 

“Theren Everlake circles the four of you, staring with unknown intent, his hair makes a sweet hollow noise in the wind… And he stops, tilting his chin downward and toward the side as he glances upon Fettar Keephorn. His jaw tightens, his eyes waver, and something beneath his stern and wooden facade, something in him breaks.” I acted out the movements for everyone before shutting my eyes. “Quickly. He turns his attention to Eldrid Deepwood. He extends a hand, bowing warmly despite his despair.”

“Your reputation precedes you. The last of your clan. I feel as though you will understand my anguish… Would you give audience to my humble and sorrowful request?” I asked in Theren’s voice. 

Ives finished taking a bite and everyone chuckled. The shift between Ives and Eldrid was perfect. His eyes widened and he glanced down and around him before looking straight at me. “Aye,” Ives answered, “There’s much grief here.” 

“We’ve lost someone deeply beloved to us… Or I should say, someone dearly beloved to us was captured. Lunathari… And in her absence, a mysterious illness has befallen our children,” I explained. 

“Where did they take her?” Hudson asked in Clay’s voice. It was a little more grownup than his voice. Hudson’s characters always jump headfirst into a mission. It didn’t take a lot to get him involved, but he was a wildcard. 

I looked straight at him. “You’ve returned to your forgotten home. In any other circumstances, this would be a joyous occasion. Lunathari would be overjoyed to see you once more… But I’m afraid this quest may take more than one person… If your traveling companions will accept this quest, I am willing to offer payment. What say you?” I questioned. 

Tim scratched his head and pretended to push his glasses up. “Well, Mr. Everlake. May I call you Mr. Everlake? My liege? Nevermind that. We’ll do everything we can to retrieve Miss Lunathari. Won’t we, Mr. Deepwood?” Tim asked in his girl voice. I finished eating dinner, and I wiped my mouth while I waited for everyone else to speak. 

“I reckon we could get her home if we all work together,” Ives answered, “Miss Moonfall is right. We’ll do whatever we can.” 

“I owe you that much,” Hudman mumbled. He didn’t look up. 

“Then, I see fit to remind you to return Lunathari to me. Unlike what you’ve done with Clay—.”

“Theren—.”

“Hold your tongue, Clay. You were only a boy when you left us,” I replied, looking at Hudson with a sweet fondness. Hudson’s cheeks went rosy, and he bowed his head. Tim’s eyes widened as he looked straight at me. 

**

After two hours, they made it down the other side of the mountain in view of the cave where Lyra the Torturer held her adoptive sister Lunatharia. “Can I try to sneak toward the mouth of the cave?” Hudman asked. 

“Roll for stealth,” I replied. Hudman rolled and everyone held their breath. 

“Nineteen, plus nine stealth advantage,” Hudman sighed. 

The guys knocked each other around in celebration. “You stroll right up to the entrance without being seen or heard. You’re just… close… enough… to… hear…” The alarm on my phone went off. “Sorry, guys. Time to clean up. Alfred’ll be up any minute to take you guys home.” 

Everyone groaned and started picking up their backpacks. I left everything in its place, and Tim took a picture. Ives and Hudman texted their parents to tell them they’d be home soon, and Hudson sat next to me on the floor. “Do you maybe wanna—? The school’s going on a trip next month. Maybe we can sit next to each other on the bus,” Hudson offered. 

“For sure, Hudson,” I smiled, “And thanks for being nice about me DM-ing. I was nervous you’d think I sucked.” 

“Hey, you’re doing fine… I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” Hudson smiled as he hugged me. I don’t think he was thinking because he rushed behind the other guys as they went down the stairs. 

They left me alone with Tim. He seemed happy. It was nice to see him happy again. “ Hudson? ” Tim questioned. 

“What about him?” I asked. 

Tim shrugged, still smiling as he set his die in the pouch they came in. “I don’t even know why you were worried. You should DM for the next campaign, too,” Tim smiled. 

“It’s a lot of work, though,” I replied.

“You love DM-ing. I can tell,” Tim smiled, but his eyes drooped. I could almost feel his sadness. 

I dropped down beside him, sitting on my bed with my hands clasped together. “What’s on your mind?” I questioned. 

“Mom… She used to read these books by R.A. Salvatore. She used to read them to me before bed, and it was our thing… And then, she started having me read to her… And then I started reading them to myself before bed. Jason, that’s why it means so much for you to host and DM like this,” Tim smiled, “Not only are we brothers, but you’re sharing something with me that Mom loved.” I bumped shoulders with him. 

“Are you sleeping in here tonight?” I asked. Tim nodded. He couldn’t sleep in his room. I couldn’t blame him. The manor wasn’t home for him. Not to mention, his parents’ house was a lot more friendly-looking on the inside. That… And the obvious stuff going on. 

**

I trained with Barbara on Wednesday, which mostly started with her taking me to physical therapy and then swimming. After we swam, Barbara went over the basics of self-defense in wheelchairs specifically. Always self-defense first. I think she knew the stress of losing Janet caused a flare-up of nerve pain in my legs. Maybe she saw it in the way I got out of the pool. 

Barbara was no-nonsense. She went over everything three times, and we did everything thrice. Unless I didn’t do things to her standards. “Nuh-uh. Sloppy. You’re coming up weak on that right arm block. I could push that arm right into your face,” Barbara replied as she pushed my forearm into my nose. It was humbling. And infuriating. And my temper was short.

I huffed and pushed my bangs back. “Okay! I get it,” I snapped. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it during training. That was the difference between her and Bruce. Bruce was way nicer about it when he trained me. 

I had to shake that thought off. I had to stop being sensitive and short-tempered if I wanted to get better. “Get it together. Three more times,” Barbara replied. I obeyed without any further complaint. If I could keep my head down and train hard, I could be back in fighting shape on schedule.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 12 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, masturbation, mentions of blood/gore 🩸

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8.8K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 12! I have been writing a ton for this part and hope you like where these two are going! I sure do 🤭

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here 🩸

I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think!🖤

“I don’t want you here,” you say coldly. 

“I know, I just needed to see you were safe. I don’t like you in this apartment,” he grumbles. 

You shake your head and take in a sharp breath, “you have no right to say such things to me. You don’t own me.” You say forcefully. 

The expression on his face turns sorrowful and his stature looks weak, unable to fight you anymore. 

“You have every right to hate me…” he sighs. 

“Oh trust me, I am not very fond of you at all right now,” you griped. 

He looks down at the floor, unable to look at the hurt in your eyes, “I want to apologize for how I acted,” he begins to explain but there’s too much anger inside you to let him finish. 

“Oh, which part Elvis? Yelling at me and scaring me off or inviting a woman over to fuck while I’m still in the same room?!” You hiss. 

“I… I didn’t fuck her…” he says lightly. 

“Oh great, that makes it much better,” you throw back in his face. 

He winces at your words and takes a deep breath to try and talk again.

“I didn’t feed either… it felt wrong,” he says quietly. You were surprised by his admission, not expecting him to see your side at all. 

“I shouldn’t have acted the way I did. It wasn’t right,” he explains. 

“Mhmm,” you agree. “But to make this all easier for you, I’m quitting today. I thought I’d put in my two weeks but the sooner the better. I need to get out of Vegas and start new. I have enough experience that somewhere else will want to hire me,” you say matter-of-factly.

“What? You’re leaving?! That’s not what I meant by not having you around. I don’t want you moving to a new city because of me,” he says surprised. 

“You’ll be back here in a few months for your summer engagement, I’m sure you can’t handle being in the same state as me by then,” you grumble. 

“Okay, if that’s what you decided…” he says quietly. 

“It is. I’ve made my mind up,” you say firmly. 

He looks at you longingly, unable to say anything else to make the situation better. 

You start to get out of bed, sickened by his face and the whole situation he’s put you in. 

“I really thought this could have worked out-,” you start to say and look back at him. But he’s already gone, not a trace of him left behind. 

You grumble in frustration to yourself, ticked off that any of this has happened. You decide to take a shower and get ready for the day. You were going to go in at six like everyone else and say your goodbyes. It was the best option for both of you. 

*

You’re all ready to go when you realize you can’t find your keys. You don’t remember the last place you put them but could swear they were in your purse. Searching high and low, you can’t find them anywhere. You get so frustrated that you were careless enough to lose them. The only other place they could have been misplaced was at Anna’s apartment. You rush to the telephone in the kitchen, hoping she is still at home and not at work already. 

You dial her number and the phone is dead silent. You try to hang up the phone and redial but it’s still dead. Rushing to the bedroom, you grab that phone and try to dial it. You have similar luck and the phone doesn’t work. Frustration grows inside you as you’re trying to make this all quick and painless by getting to work and quitting. You push the buttons on the phone and lift up the receiver to see if there are some reset instructions or something. As you go to pick it up, you see the phone line has been cut. 

Your eyes grow with shock and you have a feeling you know who did this. Your brain scrambles on what to do and decide to double-check inside your car for your keys and hope they’re there. 

Opening the door, you start to walk out to the parking lot and don’t see your car anywhere. You cry out in frustration, not believing what is happening. You can’t go anywhere and can’t call the cops about your stolen car either!

You turn around to go back inside to figure something out when you see one of Elvis’ men at your door, Jerry, standing statuesque there looking at you. You rush to him, anger fuming off of you. 

“Did he do this?! Did he steal my car?!” You yell at him. 

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders, “I mean… he orchestrated it all. That’s what he has us for, to do the job.” He says matter of factly. 

“So this was his grand plan?! To keep me held hostage at an apartment he doesn’t even want me to be in?”

“No. The next step was to convince you to get in the car to see him and not leave,” he says pointing to the car pulling up. 

You huff frustrated, not able to believe he was playing such an unfair game. 

“And if I don’t? What happens if I don’t get in that car,” you scowl. 

He chuckles amused at your words, looking down at his watch, “Well, Daniel should be getting home soon so you either stay here and deal with his intoxicated self and explain how you’re leaving him for good or you come with me to see Elvis,” he spats. 

Your heart drops at his words. He wasn’t wrong by any means and the last thing you wanted to do was talk to Daniel. But on the other hand, he was presenting you with two evils, neither ending in a good way. You had to choose who you wanted to face and figure out what you wanted. 

The sun was rising quickly and noticed how Jerry was shrouding away from the sunlight more and more waiting for your decision. You grumble, not wanting him to be hurt in any way and need him to get inside. 

“Get my suitcases in the bedroom.” You say shortly and head for the car waiting for you both. 

*

The car comes to a harsh halt in the back of the hotel and you wait for the driver to tell you it’s okay to get out. After a few moments, Jerry escorts you to an elevator you did not know was there before and it takes you straight to the penthouse. 

You feel physically sick being here and have no idea what else there is to say to Elvis. 

“Just listen to what he has to say,” Jerry whispers to you. 

“Why? After how he’s treated me, I don’t owe him anything,” you tell him. 

He sighs, nodding his head, “You’re right. I know he’s not easy to deal with. But give him a chance, he cares about you deeply, even if he has a really harsh way of showing it,” he says as the ding of the elevator goes off and the doors open. 

You roll your eyes at that sentiment and get out of the elevator, walking quickly to the suite’s doors. 

You take a deep breath before opening the door and prepare yourself for the unpredictable force that is Elvis. 

The suite is quiet, nothing out of place, and cold like usual. Your eyes nervously scan the room looking for him so you can get this over with. In the corner of your eye, you see a shadow move quickly. 

You snap your attention to it and see Elvis sitting on the sofa. 

You suck in a sharp breath seeing him there, looking divine in a black button up. His bare chest gleams underneath it and a gold cross is hanging from his neck. He’s sitting with his legs spread open and the same cane resting between them. Oh, lord, the awful things that cane did to you…

You wince out of that memory and look back at him. He has that familiar look of lust written on his face when he looks at you. Whether it’s blood lust or the sexual kind, you can’t decipher the difference anymore. Your heart hammers away, anxiety filling your veins as you stand there with him silent. 

He cocks his head in amusement watching you there, probably enjoying the sound of your fluttering heart in his presence. You don’t want to stand there anymore and be looked at like some object. 

“You stole my car?” You say through your teeth. 

His face doesn’t waiver, he just keeps looking you over, inspecting every detail. 

“Why don’t you sit down,” he instructs, his smooth and sultry voice filling your ears. 

“No, I don’t plan on being in here very long,” you spat. 

He sighs, bringing his hand to his forehead and looking at the floor. 

“I just need to talk to you. I wish you could give me a chance,” he explains

“I’ve given you lots of chances. I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt time and time again but you just break my trust every time. I don’t know how much more I can give you,” you say bluntly. 

Your words hit him like a brick, he looks like he’s physically hurt from what you’ve said. He won’t look at you as you wait for him to say something. 

“Everything you’ve said is true. I won’t deny that. I just… I couldn’t have you leave before talking to you… that’s why your car was… borrowed,” he smirks. You roll your eyes, annoyed he finds this so amusing. 

“And my phone? What was the purpose of that?!” You scowl. 

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t have you do anything drastic before talking to me.”

“I do something drastic?! And stealing my car and cutting my phone lines was a normal response to me wanting to start my life over?” 

You’re so fed up with his behavior, it was selfish and controlling and you didn’t want him being like this. 

“I know, that was a bit much but I knew you weren’t going to listen. I just want you to get out of that apartment and get somewhere safe. Please, stay with me. I worry about you and it would make me happy knowing that you’re somewhere safe.” He tries to explain. 

As much as you knew you needed to get out of that place, staying with Elvis wasn’t a better situation necessarily. 

“You want me here? With a bloodthirsty vampire? Or should I say, stay with a whole clan of bloodthirsty vampires,” you say pointing to the door of where his men are standing. 

“They have better control than me surprisingly. And they would never hurt you. So don’t worry about them,” he says. 

“So just worry about you?” You say flatly. 

He winces again, your words cutting through him like knives. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t want you to worry anymore. I hate putting that strain on you.” He slowly gets up, walking closer to you. 

“I want you to trust me again. Without hesitation. I want to touch you again and have you like it. Just like the very first time,” he sighs, reaching out to touch your face but restrains himself. 

“You’ve lied to me, a lot. You have to understand how that messes me up. Most of the men in my life, that’s all they do with me is lie. I want it to be different with you,” you explain. 

“And it can be different honey. I promise I can make you happy,” he assures, taking a few more steps towards you, getting dangerously close. 

You take a step back from him, feeling overwhelmed by his presence already. 

“It’s not just about that Elvis. Your little games you play, they can’t be happening with me. I’m not just some pawn on your chessboard. You have to make me believe you care. That I’m not just another girl you’re stringing along if what you say is true of how you feel about me.”

“All my life, men have constantly pushed me aside and made me some commodity. I’m done with that. I’m thirty now and I know I deserve better. Much better. You have to prove to me you can do better than the rest of them,” you plead. 

You didn’t feel you were being unreasonable. Those were your conditions. If he wanted you to stick around, he had to prove in more than one way he was committed to you. 

You wait expectingly for him to answer you, seeing if he is willing to really change. He takes a few more steps toward you, falling to his knees in front of you. He places his hands on the back of your thighs, looking up at you longingly. His hands feel like wildfire on your skin, trying to consume any logical thought and let the sparks of lust you have for him overtake your body. You peel his hands off of you even though you love the way they feel on you. 

“No touching me, you said you wouldn’t. Tell me what you’re going to do with your words and not your hands,” you say firmly. 

He sits back on his heels, looking at you with a pout and his eyes begging for your approval. 

“Baby, please… I’m going to show you, time and time again, how important you are to me. How much I care about you and how much I need you,” he confesses. “I want you to want me again, not only emotionally but physically too. Please stay, I need you, baby,” he breathed. 

Everything inside you screams to touch him, comfort him in some way, but you can’t allow yourself to submit to him like that. He has to prove all of what he said. You know he was a smooth talker and he would say just about anything to win you over. He was a pro at his own game. 

“Okay. I’ll give you a chance and stay for a while,” you reply. He lets out a sigh of relief and smiles at you. “But you have to give me privacy. No watching me sleep or any other things you do without me knowing.” You insinuate. He looks like he got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar and is about to protest but you cut him off. 

“No arguments. Promise me,” you say. 

“I promise. I just worry about you and need to make sure you’re okay,” he says sheepishly. 

“Well unless I scream or something, I don’t need to be watched twenty-four-seven,” you say.

You know he doesn’t like it, but he nods his head in agreement, “Okay baby,” he says weakly.

You step away from him and grab your suitcase that was left at the front door. You start to drag it away, passing the normal guest room you’ve stayed in before.

“Where are you goin’?” He asks panicked.

“I wanted to stay in another room. This place is so big I might as well explore,” you say cheekily.

He stands up nervously and his eyes grow concerned, “But you’re so far away from me…” he says softly.

You smile at him cutely, “That’s exactly the point,” you say winking at him before walking off to the other side of the suite.

*

You unpack your things and conflicting emotions come flooding in. On the one hand, you were happy you were gone from that apartment and you wouldn’t have to deal with Daniel, but on the other hand, your future with Elvis made you quite apprehensive.

There was no guarantee that Elvis would gain enough control to be around you where he didn’t want to eat you alive. This was all so tricky. You had to be patient with him and really help him with this process.

Another uncertain aspect of this all was what was going to happen when he left Vegas. In previous years, he usually went on tour right after his Vegas engagements and won’t be back here til the summer. Did you want him gone that long? Were you two in a more serious relationship where you could ask him what’s going to happen when he leaves? It almost feels counterproductive to have him learn all this self-control and then have him fall into his bad habits as soon as he leaves this place.

You couldn’t help but be mad at yourself for thinking such things. You wish you could just cut this thing off with Elvis but it literally feels impossible. He means too much to you even if he isn’t human anymore. Your heart needed him around and that scared you to pieces.

As you’re unpacking, you stumble across your bathing suit. It wasn’t blazing hot outside but you needed some sun. You thought this might help you get some clarity and enjoy the fresh air. You take off your clothes and slip on the bathing suit. You grab a blanket off the bed to bring with you in case you get chilly.

It was eleven and there shouldn’t be too many people by the pool at this time. You go to the elevator and make your way outside. There’s a perfect spot where the sun is hitting and once you feel the sunshine on you, it melts your worries away. 

You lay there for about an hour when you suddenly feel a shadow over you. You open your eyes and see Anna smirking at you. 

“Well it must be nice to be able to sit out by the pool on a working day,” she teases. You giggle at her and sit up to make room for her to sit down on the sun chair. 

“Hey now. I deserve a little break. These last few days have been... rough to say the least.” You say awkwardly. 

She nods her head in agreement, “No, you’re completely right. I’m sorry. I had to come by to see you. I was cleaning one of the rooms up there and I looked out the window and saw this hot babe sunbathing and was like wait… that’s my best friend!” She giggles. You cover your face embarrassed, but thankful she always knows what to say to cheer you up. 

“Yeah it’s just me, contemplating my life as usual,” you jest. 

“What’s been going on?” She asks gently. 

You take a deep breath and take off your sunglasses to look at Anna. 

“Well… Elvis is complicated, just need to preface that before I explain,” you start to say. Anna starts laughing, “Yeah, I could have told you that based on how he dresses!” She teases. 

You push her shoulder and laugh a bit too hard. 

“Stop it! I’m trying to tell you something serious!” You chuckle. 

“Okay, I’m listening I’m sorry,” she says covering her mouth. 

“Okay, so to briefly explain, Elvis called me up to the penthouse to basically fire me. He told me he didn’t want me around and I was pretty crushed. Then I got to the apartment to pack up everything and he showed up saying he couldn’t get away from me. And well, now I’m here, staying with him for the time being,” you say carefully. She looks at you in shock, not believing the things you just said. 

“Wait what?! You’re going to stay with him even though he said he doesn’t want you here?” 

“It’s more complicated than that and there’s something I can’t delve into…” you confess. 

She nods her head, not liking the answer but respects your space. 

“That’s… a lot. This is all happening so quickly. Have you two talked about what you’re going to do once he leaves?” 

Your stomach drops at the notion, unable to think about when he does leave, where does that leave you in his life?

“I don’t know yet… we do need to talk about it. In a way, I do just want to enjoy the next few weeks with him but I know reality is going to come knocking and I can’t play pretend anymore.”

Behind Anna, you notice someone coming in your direction. It was Jerry again, wincing when he stepped into the sunlight. He doesn’t look at you straight away and stands in front of the lounge chair looking away. 

“What’s going on? How did you know I was out here?” You ask him. He gives you a look like you should know better. 

“You should know by now. But Elvis is requesting you to come to dinner with him this evening at five-thirty before his show tonight.” He says. 

You look at him for a moment and look back at Anna who’s in shock. 

He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash that makes your eyes shoot wide open. 

“And he told you to treat yourself. Get your nails done or go buy yourself a dress if you want,” he says handing you the money. You don’t know what to do with so much money and can’t possibly spend it all in one day!

“Okay, tell him I’ll be there,” you say sheepishly. 

He turns to leave quickly, getting out of the sun that is surely burning him. 

You look back at Anna and look at her in shock. 

“You want to go shopping with me?” She nods her head quickly and you both rush back into the hotel. 

Anna convinced you to make it a whole day to pamper yourself like Elvis wanted. You started with trying on dresses and you must have tried on a million. You knew Elvis always dressed to the nines and you wanted to do the same. But you were too picky and nothing felt right. Everything felt too informal or too over the top. There has to be a perfect middle ground for this dinner. 

You had to admit, this was a nice gesture coming from Elvis. Having dinner with a vampire was never on your list of things to do but here you are. It did show you he was a bit serious when it came to showing you how much he cared for you. You don’t remember the last time you went to a nice dinner with a man. 

After going to store after store, you finally found the dress for the evening. You decided on a mid-length, midnight blue cocktail dress. It was embellished with some sequins at the waist and was flowy, making each movement you made dazzling. 

The next stop of the day was getting your nails done. You decided on a simple French tip and a shorter length. Anna convinced you to get your hair and makeup done too. You had plenty of money to do it and thought it might not be such a bad idea. You found a well-known beauty salon nearby and had her cut and curl your hair into loose waves. You kept your makeup simple and wanted a shimmery eye shadow to make the whole look pop. 

You walked out of there feeling like a new woman. It was so nice to do and you were so thankful Elvis was so generous to you.

Maybe he does have a working heart somewhere in there. 

 It was almost five and you knew you needed to make it back to the hotel to be on time for dinner. Anna says goodbye to you and wishes you good luck at dinner. 

You quickly make your way upstairs and get changed. Being fully dressed with your hair and makeup done, you look at yourself in the mirror almost unable to recognize yourself. Sad to admit, but you stopped caring for yourself in a way. You had no one that cared for how you looked so you never went out of your way to do your makeup or curl your hair to get them to notice. The only time you have was for Elvis’ party and that says a lot. 

It was getting close for you to leave so you decide to slip your heels on and make your way into the living room where you hope Elvis is waiting for you. The marble floors make your heels click louder than you like and make your heart race in anticipation to see what Elvis thinks of your dress. Part of you was insecure, not used to looking like this around anyone, and lacking confidence in yourself. 

You turn the corner and you have to hold your breath, he looks irresistible. He was wearing a black velvet suit with nothing underneath his jacket and a red and blue silk scarf hanging from his neck. He wore his gold cross and TCB necklace and his fingers were adorned with various gold shiny rings. He looks so attractive so mouth-wateringly good, if the situation was different, you would say fuck dinner, and have him screw you instead. 

But you know he’s not ready for that and you most definitely weren’t either. As much as you wanted to, it scared you a bit to be that close to him and not worry that he was not going to hurt you. That was a huge amount of trust he needed to earn in order to do that again.

Your eyes continue to wander all over him and you can’t seem to tear them away from his face. He looks a little different. Was it his hair? The last few times you saw him, it had been ruffled and unkempt. It does look shorter and it was more slicked back but still fluffy. His sideburns were also shorter and well-trimmed. You weren’t sure, but if you weren’t mistaken, he looked younger. Not that drastically but there was a different glow about him.

And then it hit you. You realize what he is trying to do. He’s trying to lure you in. Tempt you.

He didn’t need to do that at all since you were already so attracted to him but you must say, this look has you feeling weak already. He stood there with a different confidence. Like the one he had when he first came to Vegas. It was almost cocky and pompous but he smiles and you see that it's all a facade. 

He was wearing his sunglasses but when you continue to stand there not saying a word, he takes them off to look at you. Your cheeks instantly turn red, knowing you are the object of his desire. He takes a few steps closer and a smirk forms on his face.

“Don’t you look… stunning,” he sighs, continuing to look you over. “Can you turn for me?” He asks, moving to the side of you.

You’re hesitant, showered by self-doubt but his pleading eyes make it hard for you to say no.

You slowly turn on the ball of your foot, letting your arms peel away from your sides so the dress moves when you do. You’re too afraid to look back at him and you close your eyes once you’re about to turn to face him. You hear him chuckle to himself and you don’t dare to look at him.

“Open those beautiful eyes darlin’,” he says, his smooth baritone voice pouring over you like syrup. You listen and look into his dazzling oceanic eyes, pulling you in with every bat of his long eyelashes.

“You look so gorgeous,” he praises, taking a smaller step closer to you. You look down at the floor momentarily then back up at him, not believing your eyes of how much he’s changed in a matter of hours.

“And you… you didn’t need to change for me to want you,” you say sheepishly.

He bites his lip, shaking his head at you, “I know, I just wanted to. I need people to think I’m not stuck as a twenty-four-year-old remember,” he says coyly, giving you a wink that just about makes you want to collapse.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks.

“Sure, where are we going?” 

“One of the best restaurants in Las Vegas,” he smirks at you before opening the door. You walk out into the hallway and feel a dozen eyes bore into you, looking at every inch of exposed skin. You instantly get nervous and behind you, you hear a deep growl form in Elvis' chest that makes all the men look away and just about scares the living daylights out of you. You look back at him in bewilderment and he walks in front of you, pushing the elevator button with a smile on his face. 

 “Sorry about that honey, I live with a bunch of animals I swear,” he jokes as the elevator doors open and he gestures for you to come inside. 

He gives you space but being in such a small confine, his presence is nevertheless suffocating. You feel like you’re holding your breath the whole way down and he looks like he’s doing the same. You finally reach the lobby and there’s already one of his men outside the elevator doors to escort you two to the car waiting outside. Elvis lets you walk in front, making sure no one is following and you’re in his eyesight. In the valet area, there stood Elvis’ 1971 Stutz Blackhawk. The car was stunning and unlike anything you had ever seen. The interior was also all black with dark wood on the dashboard. Elvis helps you get in the passenger seat and shuts the door for you. A few people spot him and scream his name and he kindly waves to them before getting into the driver’s side of the car. He glances over at you, looking down at your legs, the back up to your face, “You ready to go?” He asks smugly.

“Mhmm, I’m ready,” you say.

“Okay hold on tight, I drive fast,” he teases, turning the key to start the car. You laugh at him and feel the jolt of the car accelerating and the sound of the tires screeching on the pavement. You hold onto the door handle and watch as you both zoom by all the other cars and weave in and out of traffic. You’ve never driven in a car going so fast and it petrifies you but at the same time, you can’t help but laugh uncontrollably. 

He had a big smile on his face the entire time, probably knowing this would scare you but be fun to do anyway. You watched his face, showing how much he loved this and how he almost looked childlike. Just pure happiness radiated off of him and it made you like to see that side of him for a change.

He parks in the back of the restaurant where the valet is and hands the man the keys and a twenty-dollar bill. He quickly, almost too quickly, rushes to open your door and help you get out, offering his hand out for you to grab onto. You hesitate to touch him, unsure if it’s right, but you do anyway and get out of the car much easier. He shuts the door behind you and drops your hand, placing his hand on your lower back, and escorting you into the restaurant.

You both reach the host stand and the girl’s face lights up when she sees Elvis. It doesn’t bother you, you completely understand her reaction because you had a very similar one when you saw him in this suit. She takes you two back to an exclusive area where it was completely empty and sectioned off by glass doors from the rest of the restaurant. There was only one large table in the room and two chairs at opposite ends of the table. Elvis thanks the girl for her help and she quickly leaves, closing the door behind her and shutting the drapes that were on the outside of the doors.

The room was low-lit and was decorated beautifully. There were pictures of Las Vegas from the 50s and the first hotels ever built. It was interesting to you how this desolate place in the desert grew to become one of the most liveliest places on the planet. There were glasses of red wine on the table already and the menu sitting on top of your rolled napkin and plate.

Elvis helps you sit down and pushes your chair in then goes to sit on the other end of the table. You both are abnormally quiet. The circumstances of your situation are complex and there wasn’t a playbook on how to make a vampire not want to go in a frenzy around you. He looks at you from across the table and then back down at the menu.

Were you making him nervous? Maybe you have more power than you think, you think smugly to yourself.

A waiter comes in and asks if we would like any appetizers. Elvis gently tells him we need a few more moments to look at the menu. The waiter steps outside and leaves you two to wallow in the thick silence you two have created. You watch as Elvis continues to look at the menu, seriously contemplating what he is going to order.

“What are you doing exactly? Can you eat?” You ask carefully.

He chuckles, amused by your candor, “If you mean can I chew my meal, then yes, yes I can. I haven’t forgotten how to do that yet,” he teases. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from smiling like an idiot. 

“Ah, I see… does food taste the same?” You ask.

“Hmm… no. It’s all very bland. I wish I could enjoy it the way I used to. Now I just eat food when I need to put on an act and make everyone believe I’m perfectly normal. Then excuse myself to the bathroom, which is a very human thing to do, and just chuck it all up” he winks at you. You cover your face from laughing and look at him shaking your head.

“Sounds like you’re a pro at being human and stuff,” you snicker.

He can’t help but laugh at you, “In a sense, yes. But it's ultimately because my body doesn’t process food anymore so it's the only way to do it. It's only able to take in blood as nourishment…” he says uncomfortably.

You nod your head and keep looking at the menu. The waiter comes back and you both order your entrees. You decided to order a steak and mashed potatoes and Elvis ordered the same. There was an undeniable awkwardness in the air and you didn’t know how to break in. In a way, Elvis had a lot of work to do and he was the one that needed to make extra effort, not you. You sip on your wine and watch as he does the same. His eyes never leave you as he takes a sip from the dark red cabernet in his glass. You watch as he licks his lips after drinking and smooths his hair back on the sides.

You have to look away, he gives off too much tension and you feel as though you’re going to choke on it. You hear him get up from his chair and drag it behind him, bringing it to the side of you and sitting down there. 

“You were too far away,” he says coyly. You scoff to yourself, not believing that you of all people can make a vampire turn into a pile of mush.

“You look so beautiful tonight, I’m in awe of you,” he marvels.

“Well, thank you for taking me out. And thank you for letting me go out and get pampered. It was very nice. I can’t remember the last time I ever did that for myself,” you explain.

“You deserve it, I thought you might enjoy a day to yourself. You really outdid yourself with the dress. It was just made for you,” he boasts, his eyes falling drunk at the sight of you. You breathe in sharply, trying to not get overwhelmed by him.

“You look very nice yourself. Would have never thought you’re a vampire with how much black you own,” you tease. He laughs at your little joke taking another sip of wine.

“It’s a good color on me don’t lie,” he quips.

He was right, it made him look extra tempting and mysterious and his pale features and his blue eyes popped when he wore any black clothing. You drink some more of your wine too and the waiter comes in to fill your glasses again. You weren’t normally a wine drinker but tonight was an exception, just like every other night you spent with Elvis.

“What’s your favorite color on me?” You ask slyly, shooting your eyebrows up at him waiting for his response. He smugly laughs to himself, rubbing the rim of the wine glass with his index finger, making you get very distracted by those small little motions around the rim.

“I don’t think you want my response to that,” he jests.

“No, no, come on. You told me you wouldn’t lie anymore. Just tell me,” you urge.

He smirks at the glass then looks back up at you, “I prefer you naked and covered in me. But this shade of blue you have on is my next favorite thing,” he boasts.

You stare at him in utter shock, unable to form any logical thoughts other than what just came out of his mouth with such ease. You cover your mouth and look down into your lap, completely shell-shocked at him.

“Goddamn that was… very honest. I’m not quite sure what to do with that information now,” you blush. He chuckles again and you drink some more of your wine to let the awkwardness pass.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not. It was the first thing that came to my mind and it’s the truth so…” he teases. You are already such a mess because of him but you know that’s what he wants. He wants to distract you from the bigger issues you two are facing. But you’re not going to let him get away with it. You still need to get answers from him and get him to have some control.

“Well thank you for telling me the truth then, no matter how lewd it might be,” you taunt.

“I’m an open book, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he assures.

Your food arrives and it smells heavenly. Your glass is once again filled and you know you need to take it easy or you’re going to be drunk very soon. You take a bite of your mashed potatoes and continue to deal with this topic of honesty with Elvis.

“Okay, when was the last time you fed,” you say bluntly. He clears his throat and wipes his mouth with his napkin. He looks at you and takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Yesterday. I drank from a blood bag before I went to your apartment.” He says, shame filling his voice.

“Oh, I see. And how do you feel around me since then…” you ask softly.

He smiles at you and takes a bite of food before answering you.

“I feel fine. I do feel better when I’m close to you. Your scent calms me in a way… I don’t know how else to describe it. But I don’t want to take a bite out of your or anything,” he quips.

You take a few more bites and try to not let any of what he says freak you out too much. You asked him for the truth and that’s what he is going to give you. 

You sit back in your chair, bringing your wine glass to your chest, “why did you say that drinking my blood has made you only crave mine? Was that something hurtful to say to me to drive me away or was that the truth?”

“As harsh as it was, and I’m sorry for that, it’s the truth. Nothing is quite as fulfilling as yours. I feel significantly stronger and energetic…” he trails off a bit insecure talking about this.

“Why? Why is it like that with mine? Have you felt like this with anyone else’s?” You question.

“I’m trying to find answers but so far I don’t know. I want to go talk to other vampires in the area and see if they’ve heard about things like this and see where we can go from here… I have a suspicion it’s because I have… feelings for you. But there isn’t a definite answer that I can find so I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” he says sorrowfully.

You nod your head and understand he’s trying and it’s not like he doesn’t want to try to figure out what’s going on with you two. There was sure to be a weird, supernatural explanation that you were most likely not going to handle well. Your heart fluttered a bit when he admitted he had feelings for you. It was nice to hear coming from his lips. And as much as he’s lied to you, you couldn’t help but agree that you had some intense feelings for him too.

Another notion popped into your head about this all and you hesitated to even ask it. You didn’t want to tick him off and you’re hoping he won’t get mad at you for asking.

“If you don’t want to answer this, it's fine but, you were married for a while… didn’t you ever have these same feelings with her?” You ask gently, sipping on your wine and wincing at the question at hand.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “no. No I didn’t. She actually never knew I was a vampire,” he says smugly.

You choke on your wine and you look at him in shock.

“What?! How did you not tell her?!” You sputtered.

“I did. I told her multiple times but she would freak out every time so I just made her forget to make both of our lives easier. There was this one time I told her and she didn’t talk to me for days. She thought I was a complete monster and wouldn’t look at me, so I’d make her forget I ever told her and everything was okay. But I’d…umm,” he stops, looking at you uncomfortably.

“Go on,” you urge.

“I’d feed on her. All the time. I was not the best husband, to say the least…but that’s why it didn’t work out… and she couldn’t accept me for who I was so that’s how I knew I couldn’t be with her anymore.” He shrugs.

You stare at him in shock, not believing that he did all of that.

“Holy shit… you just lied to her for years and fed off of her with no repercussions?” You ask.

“Yeah, again, I was not great and I did feel bad. Basically making her my feeding bag for years on end… I do have a moral compass still even if you don’t think so,” he teases you. You laugh at him, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“I know you do, I don’t think you’re a monster,” you say softly. He smiles at you, liking how you remind him of that.

“Thank you, honey, I know you don’t. I’m trying to prove that to you more and more and prove it to myself. Because I know what we have, what we feel for each other is something more,” he reaches for your hand and stops himself, looking at you for approval. You hesitate and set your wine glass back on the table.

You push your chair back and clear your throat, “I’m going to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back,” you say smiling at him. He nods his head at you and you begin to stand up. But the moment you stand, the room feels like it's spinning.

Goddamn it.

You take a deep breath and pray to God Elvis won’t notice how intoxicated you are. You walk slowly out to the main area of the restaurant and manage to find the bathroom with ease. You wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror and see your face a bit flushed and your eyes glassy. You sigh and laugh at yourself, not believing you really got drunk sipping on expensive wine while Elvis tells you stories of his past. You wipe off your remaining lipstick and comb through your hair with your fingers. You give yourself one last look in the mirror and make your way back to Elvis.

You open the door to the back section you’re sitting at and carefully sit in your chair. You don’t want to look at him and hope he doesn’t notice anything different about you.

You take another sip of wine and he chuckles to himself.

“Baby?” He asks in between his airy laughs.

“Hmm?” You say nonchalantly.

“Are you... drunk?” He asks.

You look at him and nod your head, “Mhmm… maybe a little,” you slur and giggle.

He bursts out in laughter and leans back in his chair, “My, my, what am I going to do with you? I’m going to have to carry you home hmm?” He teases.

“No, no I’m fine,” you protest, “I can walk.”

The waiter comes by again and brings you two dessert and you have never eaten a piece of cheesecake so fast in your life. It tasted so good and Elvis watches you giggle to yourself as you take the last few sips of wine left in your glass.

“What’s going on in that head of yours hmm?” He asks cheekily.

“Nothing… I just can’t believe you ate a whole meal with me to try and impress me.” You giggle.

He looks at you longingly, smirking as he watches you giggle to yourself. “It was worth it honey. Let's get you back okay?” You agree and you both make your way out of the restaurant.

*

Elvis doesn’t drive as fast on the way back…well, at least you don’t think he did. The entire drive felt like a blur and you were in your own world as he drove back to the hotel. He helps you get out of the car as you clumsily stumble out of it, grasping onto his jacket for support. He is amused by it all and escorts you upstairs. You both get into the elevator and the jolt of the cart makes you almost fall over, holding onto Elvis’ scarf for support once again. He holds you up from underneath your arms and settles you there.

“Oops…s-sorry,” you slur. 

“It’s okay baby, I gotcha,” he hums.

You reach the penthouse and he supports you by having an arm around your waist, guiding you in a straight line to the suite’s doors.

Once you get in the living room, you kick off your heels and start to make your way to your bedroom.

“Darlin’?” Elvis’ voice stops you in your tracks and you turn around.

“Hmm?"

 “I have to do my show in half an hour, are you going to be okay up here by yourself?” He asks.

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fiiiiiinnneeee,” you insisted.

He covers his face from laughing at you and you start to turn away again. The cool marble floor felt nice on your feet since you felt uncharacteristically hot. You reach behind you to try and unzip your dress but with the lack of functioning motor skills, you can't reach the zipper.

“Elvis!” You say loudly. You turn around and see him coming toward you with an inquisitive look on his face.

“What is it, baby?” He says gently.

“Can you help me get out of my dress?” You ask shyly.

His eyes look drunkenly over your body and he walks slowly toward you.

Everything about him was screaming at you to touch him. His exposed chest was driving you crazier than usual and the way those pants fit him just right in all the right places was killing you. Your heart began to race the closer he got to you until he stopped right in front of you, looking down at your pleading eyes.

“Turn around,” he commands.

You feel your heart hammer away as you slowly turn around and pull your hair to the side to expose the dress’ zipper.

He’s extremely careful, pulling gently on the zipper and exposing your bare back to him. You hear him take a sharp breath in as more skin gets shown. He reaches the end of the zipper and a peek of your panties gets shown to him. You wore black lace ones that you had no intention of showing Elvis, but you knew he liked you in this kind so it wasn’t easy for him to just ignore this sight. You feel his thumb graze the small of your back, sliding down to where your panties were and back up again. He lets go of the zipper and you turn around to face him, clutching the dress to your chest with your arms. He clears his throat, his chest visibly rising and falling quickly.

“There you go,” he says quietly. 

You step even closer to him, your chests almost touching, “thank you,” you sigh.

You let your arms reach up to grab his scarf, letting the dress fall like a puddle at your feet.

He takes another sharp breath, trying not to look at your body.

“Thank you for everything,” you whisper, looking up at him and seeing how distractingly gorgeous he is.

“Of course,” he says softly.

A brazen flood of intense emotions hit you and the raging desire to have his lips on yours floods your mind. You feel like you can’t focus on anything else other than those lips and need them now.

“Can I give you a good luck kiss for tonight’s shows?” You ask, pushing your body on his and feeling the fire ignite. He grunts when he feels your body touch his and his eyebrows furrow.

“If that’s what you want, then yes,” he says breathlessly.

You pull at his scarf harder, trying to get him to reach down to kiss you. You tangle your fingers in his hair and feel the flames of both of your desires consume the kiss. It felt like a lifetime since the last time he kissed you. There’s so much pent-up tension between you two that a kiss feels like heaven. You give him another one and a small moan slips out of your mouth. It all feels too good to hide and his hands find your back and he groans into your mouth when his skin feels yours.

But he instantly pulls his hands away and slowly retracts from your kiss. You watch as his chest heaves and his eyes burn into yours with lust.

“Thank you, baby.” He sighs.

You nod your head and watch as his eyes finally look at your body. You can’t help but do the same and glance down at the erection forming in his pants. You quickly look back up at his face and try to not blush.

“I’ll see you after my shows,” he assures.

You step out of your dress and walk toward your bedroom again, feeling his eyes stare at your backside. You close your door gently and let out a huge breath. That went way too far and by the feel of it, your racing heart rate shows the impact he left on you. You decide to put on some different clothes to lounge in til Elvis’ lively after-party starts. You go to sit on the bed and feel that familiar sticky wetness in your panties. You slip your hand into them and find the mess Elvis created. You sigh, hating that he gets you this way so easily. You actually loved it though, loved his hands on you and set your heart on fire. You know he can probably hear everything you’re doing in here and should control yourself. At this point you don’t care, you were way too drunk to care and you wanted to take care of this. You were wound up more than you thought because once your fingers find your clit, you have to stifle a moan. It doesn’t take long when you see Elvis’ long fingers in your mind that make you want to come apart. You put more pressure on your aching bud and stars flood your eyes and you cover your mouth from any moans escaping. You knew he was listening, wishing he was in here making you come apart but he was keeping his promise. He was doing everything in his power to be the one who finally listens.

Tagging 🖤:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

[alienoresimagines]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Oh, thank you 🥹❤️ and thank you to @c-goldthorn too ❤️

Drag Me Under (also on AO3)

Gale fell asleep on the couch, leaving it up to Bucky to get him to bed without waking him. He has feelings about it all. Mostly, he's in love.

My first MOTA fic and my first fic after 2-3 years of not writing anything 🥹 It's the fic that reminded me how fun it was to write and how much I used to love it. It's the fic that screamed "hey! you still love writing!" at me, and I could never be more grateful 🥹❤️

Also who doesn't love a soft Bucky carrying a sleeping Buck to bed?

Gale And His feelings for Bucky, in four Acts (only on AO3)

Gale's journey from realizing his feelings for Bucky to realizing Bucky feels the same towards him.

I had such a blast writing this!! It was so much fun to explore Buck's pining and his obliviousness at Bucky's pining, I think it's the fic I've always wanted to write when I watched MOTA lmao, I wish I'd written some more scenes for it, developed it a bit more, but that will go in another fic 🥰

And so the weed of sorrow springs at the four cross ways (only on AO3)

Neil and his wife never had children, and yet, he realizes as he watches Bucky’s bottom lip tremble and feels the lump in his throat growing in answer, he’s already familiar with the grief of a father.

-

Still reeling from losing Buck on the Bremen mission, Chick tries his hardest to keep his boys together, especially Bucky. But an overheard confession that could get the other man sent home with a blue ticket forces him to make a decision that could change the outcome of the Münster mission and drastically change Buck and Bucky's fate.

This one is my baby 🥹 I spent so long trying to find Chick's voice and I like how it came out. It was a bit of a struggle to reconcile Man Raised in the 1910s with what I wanted from him but I think I managed. Also, I have such a soft spot for Chick and his relationships with the Buckies and the boys under his command that this fic is really special to me. Write what you want to read and this is the fic I've been wanting to read for weeks before writing it so 🥰🥰

Every inch of your skin is a Holy Grail I've got to find (only on AO3)

Kissing John might be one of Gale's favorite things in the world, but right now, there's nothing he desires more than to watch the other come undone beneath him. His left hand leaves dark curls to brace on one broad shoulder, giving him leverage to sit back up, even though he can't help but crane his neck to steal quick kisses. John starts leaning up on his elbows to chase him, and even if it makes something swell in his chest, Gale stops him with a hand on the valley of his chest, fingers tangling lightly on the dust of hair there to push him back down gently but firmly.

"Don't," the word comes out as a rasp, arousal making his head swim as he straightens up. Beneath him, John whines pitifully, the sound high in his throat but he flops back down obediently, looking up at Gale with half-lidded eyes, chest heaving.

This one is very special to me because it is my first smut fic ever! I don't know if I've done it well lmao but it definitely was a relief to get past the mental block and try my hand at it. Also, it's the first fic set in my Vampire AU, which is very special to me, and I like how I sprinkled it all with a bit of lore and stuff that callbacks to it without it overpowering the smut. Also I live for Gale calling John a good boy and the power balance of John being the vampire but surrendering fully to Gale 🥹

S'Cute (also on AO3)

Gale is already looking at him, eyes bright and fond and loving, the golden light of the pub shining in his hair and creating perfect shadows on an already perfect face.

He's cute.

Gale's eyes widen a bit, a blush immediately finding its way onto his cheeks, and it's only then John realizes he’d spoken out loud. Alcohol made the words slur a bit in his mouth, coming out more as "S'cute" than an appropriate sentence but still Gale heard him. Now ducking his head shyly, a small pleased smile on his face, golden hair perfectly styled making him glow among the rest of them, he looks so sweet and handsome, and he's all Bucky's to love.

So very special to me that Callum actually chose to say "s'cute" before grabbing Gale's chin in part2 and they decided to keep this take, I had to write something and I'm still overwhelmed by emotions whenever I think about this moment. The implications of it, Gale's flustered face, John's love shining so bright on his face... I fear I will never recover, and it makes the entire "I will be your best man" so so much more painful

[jinkookspencil]

my daisy | kth

you're late... but your lifelong crush helps you get ready

description/tags: taehyung one-shot / angst and suggestive / taehyung is her childhood family friend and neighbor / historical!AU! / this can be any historical era you wish it to be, it was inspired by the regency era, bridgerton, and taehyungs photofolio but it can be the early 1900s if you want it to be too it's really not that specific / ~1.9k words

rating: 18+ minors dni / 18+ even though it's suggestive because it starts out in an 18+ way but reader is alone (she is touching herself) /

author's note: this is my first time writing taehyung!! i had this written in my drafts for a while, intending to publish it when layover was out in celebration of him! <3 finally completely edited for like the third time and now i can finally get to work on my requests. i hope you guys like it :') i literally gave him one of my favorite scenarios of all time.

A chill summer breeze wafts through the windows, cooling your otherwise sweltering bedroom… though a bead of sweat forms at your hairline, for your bare body still radiated heat. 

The sudden air against your folds tickled, right while you’d been playing and feeling through and within them while lying atop the restricting cotton bedsheets, your other hand lost in the tangles of your own hair.

 “T-t-t….” you moan into the dimly lit room, imagining it’d been the hand of your brother’s best friend getting you close to the edge instead of your own. His name almost slips from your lips….

But the man himself storms into your room instead.

“Mr. Kim!” you screech, seeing him at your side at once. Quick to grab the pillow from beneath your hips and jerk the sheet below until it was free from its tidy dressing onto the mattress, you were unkemptly covered in seconds. “Get out!”

But Kim Taehyung still stood before you, head merely tilted downwards, waiting for you to properly wrap your bare body with the fabric. Tugging the thin sheet tightly at the back, you'd been oblivious to the fact that it outlined every curve and dip of your figure and truly, was all the more tantalizing to the man before you who'd been obviously failing his attempts not to steal glances at you through his periphery. It was unsurprising.

Taehyung had always been a menace. The boy never listened, never followed any rules except his own, and evidently never learned how to knock on another’s door. 

It was no secret to your family that you'd been smitten with Taehyung, the neighbor’s only grandson, since childhood, long before he grew to be your brother's most trusted friend. He'd been your friend first, after all, until the two of you had come of age and society deemed such a friendship inappropriate with youthful, hurried engagements, infatuations, and hormone-riddled courtships running amuck...

It proved to be a lifelong infatuation that followed you into womanhood, and though the days spent picking flowers, reading fairy tales, and ‘make-believe teatime’ were long behind you, his friendship with your brother still kept Taehyung in your life, and you were as thankful for it as the fond, playful memories of your youth.

The sheer power of your own feelings only made itself apparent when he’d went away to begin his apprenticeship in France with no promise of an engagement or any indication of reciprocated feelings. Despite an initial sorrow, the longing had turned into an ache in your chest that seemed impossible to ignore, only slightly remedied by his occasional letters and gifts. It was a short-lived hope that he could still be yours. His return as society’s most eligible, handsome, and accomplished bachelor only made it harder to confess - for everyone fell under Taehyung's spell.

With rumors of his charming reputation and dedicated work in France swirling through society and countless men and women organizing courting arrangements before he'd even arrived a month ago, you thought to make haste with your confession, but your half-written love letters were ultimately kept away in the drawers right behind where he'd stood now, with the postcards, letters, and gifts he'd sent you over that time. And you'd spent all those nights with him away just as you had tonight, imagining he'd been there, in your very room, bare as you'd been right beside you... And it had to have happened as such.  

“Oh, I apologize, Miss_____,” he says calmly, and the hint of a smirk appears on his face before he turns to face away from you, “But I’m here on orders of your dear mother. You’re, uhm, expected?”

Fuck. You lost track of time. 

“Should I tell her you’re not feeling well?” 

“No. No, I have to be there, sir. I’m expected to make at least one possible match tonight,” you panic, slithering into the undergarments you’d discarded by the bed earlier. Too hasty to feel shame, and, for the first time, thankful that women’s undergarments cover more than they ever should, you march to the wooden partition, only for your corset to be in Taehyung’s hands.

“Allow me to help,” he offers with a smile. “Your sisters are furious at your being late already, and well, I’m the only one who won’t give you an earful.”

You resign, stepping between Taehyung and the mirror and readying yourself into the corset. Looking at your reflection, you could see your figure and breasts through the sheer chemise with ease…. Practically as naked as you had been. And the man you’d who held your corset and your affection in his hands was staring at the same image with a blank expression on his face. 

“This is absolutely humiliating,” you groan, inhaling as he pulls the strings of your corset. Your breasts rise above, forming a perfect, heaving cleavage that remains there, perfectly shaped, as your torso is pulled back…. But only ever so slightly. This was new…. comfortable, and…. just as shapely and alluring. A miracle.

“….It fits well and isn’t as tight as when the girls do it… you have practice, I assume, tying women’s corsets?” you say, taking in your reflection and silently wondering if the man behind you stole another glimpse before he swiftly tied the knot at your back - or if you’d compared to the beauties he must’ve courted in Paris.

Tutting, he ignores the question. His fingers remain at your back, playing with the strings he’d just tied together before tracing your corset's hem. You don't push his hands away when he continues to trace the boning to where it lies below your breast, until his long, elegant fingers ghost your stomach and he pulls his hand away.

It’s only when he steps backward that you exhale comfortably, highly unusual in such a corset, and in the reflection, you see Taehyung grab the dress you were due to wear from its hook behind the partition that enclosed you. He hands it to you without a word from where he stood at your back and with his help, you quickly step into the silky dress, and he ties it up just the same. 

The color of the dress allowed your skin to shine as brightly as the rhinestones that adorned it, laid perfectly across your breasts and capsleeves…. Admiring them so, you remember the accompanying jewelry you’d prepared for the evening, a dainty set of earrings, which you put on in a millisecond, and its matching necklace.

“Allow me,” Taehyung says in a hush from behind you, tracing down your arm until he reaches the necklace in the palm of your hand. He brushes your hair to the side, the gentle graze of his fingertips sending chills down your spine as he works away at the lock. 

“There”, he says, close enough for you to feel the breath of the word at your nape.

Thankful his gaze was fixated there, chilling as it may be, you quickly attempt to hide your heavy breathing and the rise and fall of your chest by working away at your hair, braiding and pinning it in minutes until you looked like every other 'hopeful' bachelorette.

With a dazzling look and the event kicking off the society’s courting season… you were sure to catch the wild eyes of plenty of eligible bachelors, much to your chagrin. You were at an appropriate age to be wed, let alone courted…. but it was clear that you could never feel about a man what you felt for Taehyung. Every other dead-end meeting your mother had set up in the time he’d been away proved that fact and only frustrated her further, especially when you’d turned down both of Taehyung’s now-married cousins, the highly educated and well-off brothers Namjoon and Seokjin. ‘Artistic boys get you nowhere,’ she’d said, trying to secure your future despite having a soft spot for Taehyung herself. 

Now, in the mirror, you could see. Lust. Love. Trust. Humiliation. Your own sinful desire reflected back at you, along with Taehyung's striking side profile. Disregarding the mirror altogether, he had his head turned towards you, surely close enough to smell the rosy scent on your skin, on which you'd continuously felt his warm breathing.

“You look ravishing,” he finally mutters. “You looked beautiful even then.”

“Even then?” 

“Before France…” he whispers, toying with the silky fabric at your shoulders. “And tonight....before this…. Especially before this.”

You finally break your own gaze, turning to face him and allowing your nose to brush against his, noting his floral scent… daisies specifically… the kind you’d always play with…. With a hint of some French cologne… The person you always knew, and the man he came to be… 

“Any man would be lucky to dance with you.”

“It is not any man that I would wait for. It is not any man that I want…” you whisper, taking Taehyung’s hand and placing it on your waist. But his hand moves, quick to wrap around you and pull your body right against his.

“And what is it that you want so badly?”

Taehyung’s head tilts as his gaze fixates on a spot on your neck, biting at his lower lip and ready to do the same to your exposed skin. His lips meet your neck….

And a loud knock is heard on your door.

“_____, mother is waiting!” you hear through the door. “We’re all waiting. What’s taking you so long? Should I help with the corset?”

Oh… Right.

The two of you exhale against each other, Taehyung’s breath warmer than it had been…. even nicer. But he pulls away, ever so slightly.

“No! No, did that myself. A minute more,” you say, loud enough for your little sister to hear through the door.

“You did your own corset? Strange. Well, do you have any idea where Tae is? None of us can find him after mother sent him up here, and I want to show him how cutely I'd dressed up the teddy bear he got me!” your sister continues. “Mr. Kim Namjoon came looking for him too. Did he run off to the event ahead of us?”

“I don’t know,” you say, avoiding Taehyung’s gaze. “Now run off. I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

“I should go,” you say quietly, when you’d heard your sister’s footsteps fade. “I’ll see you there?”

Taehyung nods as he unwraps his arm from around your body, licking the lips you'd almost met.

You hear your name being called lowly from behind you just as you open your bedroom door. Turning only your head, you resist the urge to slam the door shut and kiss away the sudden anguish on Taehyung’s face.

“Save me a dance.”

“Two,” you reply, and he chuckles, walking towards you and taking your hand in his.

"I won't delay you further, my daisy. Tonight, I ask you for a dance, but soon... I hope you'll allow me to ask for this as well." Taehyung brings your hand up to his face, kissing your knuckles with his eyes closed, fluttering them open, and looking at you through his lashes with his lips still there. He doesn't wait for a reply. “Go.” 

[ane-doodles]

More sketch dump

Avana drawing practice

And some sketches of another AU that's been in my pocket for a while...

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

Original French:

Les Métamorphoses du vampire

La femme cependant, de sa bouche de fraise,

En se tordant ainsi qu'un serpent sur la braise,

Et pétrissant ses seins sur le fer de son busc,

Laissait couler ces mots tout imprégnés de musc:

— «Moi, j'ai la lèvre humide, et je sais la science

De perdre au fond d'un lit l'antique conscience.

Je sèche tous les pleurs sur mes seins triomphants,

Et fais rire les vieux du rire des enfants.

Je remplace, pour qui me voit nue et sans voiles,

La lune, le soleil, le ciel et les étoiles!

Je suis, mon cher savant, si docte aux voluptés,

Lorsque j'étouffe un homme en mes bras redoutés,

Ou lorsque j'abandonne aux morsures mon buste,

Timide et libertine, et fragile et robuste,

Que sur ces matelas qui se pâment d'émoi,

Les anges impuissants se damneraient pour moi!»

Quand elle eut de mes os sucé toute la moelle,

Et que languissamment je me tournai vers elle

Pour lui rendre un baiser d'amour, je ne vis plus

Qu'une outre aux flancs gluants, toute pleine de pus!

Je fermai les deux yeux, dans ma froide épouvante,

Et quand je les rouvris à la clarté vivante,

À mes côtés, au lieu du mannequin puissant

Qui semblait avoir fait provision de sang,

Tremblaient confusément des débris de squelette,

Qui d'eux-mêmes rendaient le cri d'une girouette

Ou d'une enseigne, au bout d'une tringle de fer,

Que balance le vent pendant les nuits d'hiver.

— Charles Baudelaire

An English Translation:

Metamorphoses of the Vampire

Meanwhile from her red mouth the woman, in husky tones,

Twisting her body like a serpent upon hot stones

And straining her white breasts from their imprisonment,

Let fall these words, as potent as a heavy scent:

"My lips are moist and yielding, and I know the way

To keep the antique demon of remorse at bay.

All sorrows die upon my bosom. I can make

Old men laugh happily as children for my sake.

For him who sees me naked in my tresses, I

Replace the sun, the moon, and all the stars of the sky!

Believe me, learnèd sir, I am so deeply skilled

That when I wind a lover in my soft arms, and yield

My breasts like two ripe fruits for his devouring — both

Shy and voluptuous, insatiable and loath —

Upon this bed that groans and sighs luxuriously

Even the impotent angels would be damned for me!"

When she had drained me of my very marrow, and cold

And weak, I turned to give her one more kiss — behold,

There at my side was nothing but a hideous

Putrescent thing, all faceless and exuding pus.

I closed my eyes and mercifully swooned till day:

And when I looked at morning for that beast of prey

Who seemed to have replenished her arteries from my own,

The wan, disjointed fragments of a skeleton

Wagged up and down in a lewd posture where she had lain,

Rattling with each convulsion like a weathervane

Or an old sign that creaks upon its bracket, right

Mournfully in the wind upon a winter's night.

— George Dillon, Flowers of Evil (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1936)

fleursdumal.org

[galaxygirl8880]

Hi hi

Remember this post??

I like- really want to write the fic

And I'm thinking of naming it something along the lines of "Alone and Asleep"

Actually maybe a series

Idk I suck at naming things

But anyways I have an alternate idea about how this au could go-

---

Cale's memory goes *blip* after two thousand years.

He only remembers his past life, really blurry memories of the people living in the villa, and the fact that he's supposed to take care of it. (and figure out a way to wake up the sleeping residents)

So he just sticks to a routine, ignoring the intense feelings of sorrow when he goes to each room to dust or change their sheets.

Especially the kids rooms.

He makes little to no attempts at gaining his memory back, figuring that he's content with his life as it is. What if it's like his time as Kim Rok Soo? He wouldn't want to remember that.

Although possibly he may have to find another place to live once they wake up. His job will be done after all. His current bank account status should be more than enough to buy himself several castles-

The grocery runs to the nearby village aren't really too eventful. Sometimes the villagers look at him with sadness, which he doesn't particularly like.

There is a kitchen in the villa that he tends to avoid, unless it's for cleaning. Then he leaves that place spotless. Perhaps one of the residents asked him to clean it? Either way, he uses a kitchen right next to it to cook his meals, (sometimes finding it hard to even make himself eat once per day) even thinking about using the other kitchen makes him shiver.

Cale tends to gravitate towards lemon tea.

He hates bitter things.

He makes periodic checks on the current king or queen of Roan. They've become familiar with his presence as he makes sure the children aren't learning anything bad or being neglected. (They're quite fond of him for some reason-)

The greenhouse is where he spends most of his time. Journaling his discoveries on poisons and all sorts of plants. The ones that are used to wake up coma patients are the majority of plants in his journal.

The butterflies are quite friendly. He's lonely

---

Ah.

They're waking up.

He's been all over the place, listening to the steadily growing noise all over the villa and making sure they don't fall over after being basically dead for so long. (He almost attacked the red head who stumbled into the greenhouse, not being used to noise that was not his own)

His first priority are the children, of course.

Cale answered the many questions to the best of his ability. Why they called him "young master" or "Cale-nim" was beyond him.

As they gathered into the dining room to hear what had happened, Cale had to work hard to repress the feelings that made him want to burst into tears.

When he'd explained that they'd basically been in a coma for years, they were understandably pretty shocked. There were tears, people who wanted to take a moment to themselves to process, and questions. So many questions.

How long has it been? Over three thousand years.

Were you also asleep? No.

Why are you acting so off? He's acting normally.

What did you do then? Took care of you.

Do you remember us??

....no.

----

So this is another route this au could go, different from the original post-

Apologies because this is a bit all over the place-

(I wanted to mention something else but forgot ;-;)

[grandselfmythologizing]

a contribution to @small-world-au’s Monster AU !! a melancholic, weary, lost, ghost-girl Asya !! probably glooms about in the afterlife lamenting over her mortal sorrows and reciting totally pretentious, Shakespearean quotations !! to be or not to be… that is the question… WOMP WOMP !!

— also revamped an old drawing from Schnozz’ and I’s RP from a while ago, lyrics are from “Words Fail,” from Dear Evan Hansen the musical :)) not particularly fond of musicals, but i’ve heard this song before and there was just- an immediate sense of recognition of Asya’s character upon listening to the lyrics 😭😭

almost forgot !! as always, reference used is below the cut !!

[artzychic27]

Hi! I read your AU of Marc being Marinette's cousin and I have to say that I LOVE it! If you have read any of my stuff, I make it very clear how much I do not like Marinette. I have always preferred the male characters while only liking a few female characters, such as Juleka and Kagami. I would definitely love to hear more about this AU, even though I greatly dislike that Lila is actually good in the AU. But, I weirdly hate Marinette more than I do Lila.

I think it would be fun to think about some of your stories through the eyes of this AU. Like, how different stories like Scarlet Warlock, Sorrow, and Brotherhood of Secrets would be in this AU.

My favorite thing about this AU is actually that Adrien is shipped with Luka. Those two are my FAVORITE Miraculous ship!

Let’s see…

Scarlet Warlock

The week of Halloween, Mme. Bustier tells the story of Nicholas Kress and how he cursed his small town with a famine that lasted years after he was burned at the stake

Just to be awful after Nathaniel decided to sever ties with her, Marinette spreads the rumor that Nathaniel is the reincarnation of Nicholas

And she makes it out like she’s only doing it for the good of her fellow students since Nathaniel’s been straying by spending time with Marc and Lila lately, and he bared a striking resemblance to Nicholas

Plus, with the Miraculous being around, who knows? Witches and warlocks could exist (I know they do, but here, they think witches and warlocks are just folklore and shit. If any of my followers are witches or warlocks, y’all are valid 🩷)

Her followers believe her and keep the rumor going, turning Nathaniel into even more of an outcast

All throughout the week, he gets doused with holy water, has his home egged, he sees at least one priest following him home from school, and ‘Burn the Witch’ is written on his locker in permanent marker

Eventually, Halloween rolls around, and things don’t get any better. During study hall, a few students corner him in the locker room and try to force him to admit that he’s a warlock on video until an Akuma infects part of his costume and he’s turned into Scarlet Warlock

His first spell causes all sorts of spiders to invade the school and crawl all over everyone

He makes his flashy entrance and creates all sorts of misfortune for the students

While the school is delved into chaos, he goes searching for Marinette, knowing she had something to do with this. Instead, he runs into Marc, who pleads with him to not hurt Marinette because she’ll only get more ammo and hurt him later

So, he turns Marc into a vampire to help him track down Marinette so that they can burn her at the stake

Lila: *Flicks a spider off of her shoulder* Should we help?

Félix: Marinette or Nathaniel?

Lila: … Uh… Nath first, Marinette later.

Félix: Sounds good.

Scarlet Warlock soon faces off against Ladybug and doesn’t hold back becuase he’s not exactly fond of her either. Something about her just reminds him of Marinette

Meanwhile, Marc bit a few of his classmates to have them assist Scarlet Warlock and make things harder for the heroes. When Ladybug summons her Lucky Charm, she’s quick to dismiss it and goes to recharge while Chat Noir keeps the Lucky Charm on hand

Unfortunately (Not really), Marinette gets found and taken to the pyre where she’ll await execution

With help from Félix, Chat Noir heads to the oldest library in the city, where he comes across an old journal detailing Nicholas Kress’ life with his lover Miles Arcel up until his tragic death. And in a secret compartment, is a bat-shaped brooch…

… Well, like hell he’s letting Ladybug get his hands on it

Just as Scarlet Warlock is about to burn Marinette, Bat Noir swoops in and destroys the pyre just by calling for it to be rendered to ashes

Marinette runs off without so much as a ‘Thank you,’ and Ladybug arrives just demanding the his second Miraculous since Bat Noir will use it “recklessly”

Instead, Bat Noir calls for Scarlet Warlock’s wand to turn to dust and release the Akuma just to shut her up. Miraculous Ladybug, all is well, and Ladybug goes to reprimand Nathaniel for trying to hurt such a “sweet girl”

Lila: “Sweet” my butt! Marinette spread a rumor that Nathaniel was the reincarnation of Nicholas Kress and was going to wipe us all out unless he was stopped!

And all is well

Sorrow

Adrien’s having a particularly shitty month, and it only gets worse when Gabriel hires Marinette as an intern for the photo shoots

At first, Adrien is happy to have a friend around, but comes to realize that he hates every second of it. Marinette is constantly touching him when mending his clothes, taking pictures of him when she thinks he’s not looking, and badmouthing a few students

His classmates dismiss this as Marinette being friendly and looking out for him, but Marc, Nathaniel, Lila, Chloé, and Félix hear him out

And when he’s not around them, he vents his frustrations to Luka and visits him with the minimal breaks he has

On top of Marinette’s behavior, Gabriel has been pushing him to get up at unholy hours when he should be sleeping to do photo shoots and has been keeping him on a very strict diet. Should Adrien stray, he’s going to pull him out of school

They sneak him some food and hide him from the rest of the class so he can get some sleep during breaks, but, as if Gabriel somehow has hidden cameras in the school, he forbids Adrien from spending time with them and keeps him from seeing Luka

It doesn’t take long for Félix to discover Marinette blabbed to Gabriel, so in retaliation, he says a few unsavory words to her

Marinette starts crying as gaslighting Adrien into defending her with the unspoken threat of getting his father involved, but he doesn’t say anything and just leaves

While her classmates are tearing into Félix, she texts Gabriel and lets him know what happened

Gabriel calls and scolds Adrien while he’s crying in the locker room, and threatens to pull him out of school unless he gets along with Marinette, causing Adrien to snap and demand to know why he wants them to get along

So, Gabriel reveals his plan to have them date and be the faces of the company: A famous model and his designer turned girlfriend

Of course, this makes him sick and he wants nothing to do with Marinette, but there’s still the threat of being pulled out of school and having no one but Marinette to hang out with

Cue HawkAss practically forcing an Akuma on him

Félix: And another thing, you bloody witch! When a man says ‘no!’ He means, ‘Get your witch hands off of me!’ Also- What the hell is that?! *Points to Sorrow*

Sorrow uses his power to force everyone at school to feel his anguish and see what he was going through at home, during shoots, and at school

He has those under his control kidnap Marinette before she can transform while he goes to use his powers on the rest of Paris

Marc, Nathaniel, Chloé, Félix, and Lila, who managed to avoid Sorrow’s power and decide to wait things out at the hotel until they’re stopped by black and red sprites

Plagg and Tikki managed to slip the Miraculous off of Adrien and Marinette before they were Akumatized and kidnapped respectively

Plagg: So? Which two of you will take on this possibly dangerous mission and save your friend?

Marc/Nathaniel/Chloé/Félix/Lila: …

Lila: Not it!

Chloé/Félix: Not it!

Marc/Nathaniel: Not-!

Marc: Damn it!

Lila: Twas fate.

Marc and Nathaniel turn into Plague and Coccinelle

Meanwhile, at the very top of the Eiffel Tower, Sorrow REALLY lets Marinette have it and makes sure everyone knows what she and Gabriel did, causing her classmates to cry harder than everyone else when they realize they’ve just been encouraging her behavior

When Gabriel is brought in, tied up, Sorrow lets him know how much he hates him before throwing both him and Marinette over the railing…

…

… Only for them to be caught by Plague and Coccinelle, much to Marinette’s anger

When everything’s fine and well, and Adrien’s de-akumatized, the moment Gabriel gets arrested, the students demand for Marinette to get arrested, too

Even when she screams that she’s Ladybug, no one cares, and she’s sent away while Nathalie sneakily steals the Butterfly Miraculous

And that’s the end of that… Oh, and Adrien dates Luka and lives with Nathalie

Brotherhood of Secrets

For a while now, the other four Akuma Class boys have been wary of Marinette. Her behavior lately is kind of scaring them, especially the Adrinette plans

When they go to hear Nathaniel’s side of things after realizing they’ve only be listening to Marinette for so long, they hear what they expect- “Marinette’s blackmailing all of you,” “Marinette has been making Marc’s life hell since she was born,” “Marinette framed Marc for all sorts of things and is still doing it,” “Marinette’s stalking Adrien, stealing his belongings, and you’re all enabling her.”

At first, they don’t believe him, but then Nathaniel reveals an audio recording of Marinette talking to Marc and revealing several of her crimes, including her declaration of how Adrien will belong to her all thanks to her idiot classmates

This pisses them off enough to get Akumatized, and unfortunately for Nathaniel, he’s caught in the Akumatization, turning them into the Brotherhood of Retribution

They track down Marinette and try to force her to confess to what she’s done, but she’s denying everything and continues running

Chloé: *Recording Marinette getting flung around by Dark Cupid* This is fun. This is a good time.

Félix: It really is, isn’t it?

Marc: *Sips his coffee* … Should we warn Adrien they’re torturing Marinette in his honor?

Lila: Shh… Later…

Chat Noir arrives while they’re playing volleyball with her as the ball and tries to talk them down even after they explain what Marinette has done. Loudly.

Chat Noir brings Marinette to safety, gets no gratitude in return, and gets back to fighting

After separating Bubbler from the group and convincing him to break from Shadow Moth’s control, Chat Noir goes to get the turtle miraculous and hands it to Nino

One battle later, and everything’s normal again. Once she’s done recharging, Marinette is about to to transform so she can have the boys apologize, but is stopped by a police officer who promptly arrests her and takes her in for questioning

But before she’s forced into the cop car, she transforms into Ladybug, believing no one would want their beloved heroine arrested… But, she’s not exactly popular with most of the akuma victims, so Chat Noir takes her Miraculous while she’s in shock

He passes the earrings along to Marc so he can undo his cousin’s damage, and all is well

And that’s all I got

[spnfanficpond]

New Member Spotlight - March 2024

The Pond is always growing and we want to make our new members feel welcome! Here’s a list of recent additions to our fishy family, along with a little info about them!

Guppies, Jellies, and Mutuals, oh, my!

@samanddean76 -

Other SM names? - Same name on AO3 and Discord

OTP? - Wincest and/or J2.

Looking for in the Pond? - To be around other open-minded and creative people so that I can see how far I can be inspired to go with this writing thing.

Pairings you read? - All of it. I love Wincest, Wincestiel, Sabriel, Destiel, Jammy, and J2.

Genres you read? - Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, True Mates, Soul Mates, Unrequited Love, and A/B/O is my favorite way to combine all of the above.

Favorite writer(s)? - nyxocity. She started on LiveJournal with the first episodes to air and transfered a lot to Ao3. Her work in both SPN and SPN RPF is some of the best I've ever read.

What do you like to write? - A/B/O, AU's, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, True Mates, Soul Mates, Revenge, and All The Feels

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - Joyous Memories Amongst The Sorrow

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - A full on, hard-core revenge story where nothing is softened, the focus doesn't shift away, and there is no doubt as to what was done. Haven't tried it yet as I'm not sure I'm ready to embrace the darkness required to write it. Also, I don't want to scare off my readers. How you can help? Encourage me to finally tackle that next seemingly impossible challenge.

@kayleighwinchester -

Other SM names? - KayleighWinchester (AO3)

OTP? - Awful as it sounds, Dean and my OC! Beyond that, absolutely Destiel.

Other fandoms? - I'm pretty active in the band Ghost's TikTok fandom! I used to be *huge* into Harry Potter, but that's definitely faded in the last few years. As it stands, Supernatural has definitely become the main obsession.

Looking for in the Pond? - I'm mostly here for the community! My fanfic writing has mostly been just for me and shared with a few close friends in the last few years - publishing it anywhere, especially in the really rough state it's in at present, is super daunting! I'm always looking for more people to bounce ideas off of, chat with, and generally obsess over the show with, as well as finding new stuff to read!

Pairings you read? - I'm especially fond of reader inserts, and they were my first big step into fanfic! When it comes to ships, I tend to stick specifically to Destiel, since it's my OTP, but I'm always willing to branch out!

Genres you read? - I love angst! Writing was, for a long time, my free version of therapy, so reading and writing angst was always a huge thing for me. I also love smut and fluff. ...Essentially, everything. Depends on the mood!

Favorite writer(s)? - I always have to boost TinkerbellBleu on Ao3, even though she isn't active anymore. She wrote an amazing DeanxOC fic, essentially turning episodes 1, 2, and part of 3 into full-length novels. I adore her writing and hope she comes back soon!

What do you like to write? - Most are CharacterxOC, and I have absolutely no self-control, so they are almost always ridiculously long. As it stands, I've been incapable of not just writing a fic that is supposed to span the entire show, because there's just *so many* good moments, good scenes, good storylines, etc. There's never one specific 'theme'; I write everything! I do enjoy writing angst, though.

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - Smut! I've made an *attempt*, but never one that I actually kept. Generally, it comes down to a lack of confidence; I'd love some critiques if I ever get around to it!

@whiskeyjuniper -

Other SM names? - Whiskeyjuniper (AO3)

OTP? - DeanCas, Midam, crackship DeanChuck

Looking for in the Pond? - Sprint buddies!

Pairings you read? - DeanCas, Midam, crackship DeanChuck

Genres you read? - Horror

What do you like to write? - Horror, Weird

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - a happy place to dream about

@bloodydeanwinchester -

Other SM names? - Same name on Discord, alovelyhorror (AO3)

OTP? - Destiel

Looking for in the Pond? - Looking for a place to talk to other writers and participate in sprints.

Pairings you read? - Almost exclusively Destiel

Genres you read? - Angst with a happy ending is my favorite but I also love some good horror. my favorite trope is probably time travel.

Favorite writer(s)? - sobsicles and komodobits on ao3

What do you like to write? - mostly into writing longer destiel canon/canon divergent fics (although i do have an idea or two for aus)

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - When the Night Is Over

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - The thing I'm most focused on wanting to do now is to finish the longer fic that I’m currently working on. I'm struggling with keeping up motivation now that I'm right in the middle of the fic!

@notanotherthembo -

Other SM names? - Same name on Discord

OTP? - Dean/Cassie

Other fandoms? - TWD, TOWL

Looking for in the Pond? - Beta readers, homies, amazing writers to talk shop with

Pairings you read? - Sam/Femme!Reader, DeanCassie, Sam/Dean/Femme!Reader, Wincest

Genres you read? - Smut, Rivals or Enemies to Lovers,

Favorite writer(s)? - @uncouth-the-fifth is the GOAT

What do you like to write? - Crossovers, specifically ones that feature Black femme characters as the romantic lead

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - Clap Your Hands If You Believe

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - Reader inserts! I'm working on one right now that I need a beta reader for. I'm also considering finishing up/rewriting an old Spn/True Blood crossover series that I haven't touched in years.

@bigmouthlass -

Other SM names? - darali_starscream (AO3) & Darali (Discord)

OTP? - I write Dean/You, and Dean/Donna should've lived happily ever after.

Looking for in the Pond? - Get a better handle on fandom stuff, meet some other like-minded obsessives.

Pairings you read? - Dean/anyone. He fascinates me.

Genres you read? - Smut to start, anything interesting and well-written.

Favorite writer(s)? - @thoughtslikeaminefield, @sam-is-my-safe-word , @talltalesandbedtimestories, Edge_of_Clairvoyance (AO3), and @rizlowwritessortof

What do you like to write? - They start as smut, and insist on growing plots.

Masterlist!

Most underappreciated fic? - Stairwell Drums

Something you haven't written but would like to try? Why not? How can we help? - I'm trying to get comfortable writing Sam; he's harder for me to feel at ease with. Also slash generally, it doesn't come naturally to me.

That's all for this month, folks! (If we're missing anyone, let us know and we'll add them to next month's list!) Make sure to say hi to the newbies and make them feel welcome! Thanks to all from @manawhaat, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @mariekoukie6661, @thoughtslikeaminefield, @spencereliotwinchester and @heavenssexiestangel!