( 박성훈 ) In which - (Part 3) You and Sunghoon were childhood best friends who drifted apart over the years. Now, struggling to find a job, Sunghoon steps in and offers you one at HYBE. But after a few drinks to celebrate, the line between childhood best friends and something more starts to blur.
~2.9K
Warnings / Tags: smut, mature content, dirty talk, emotional tension, childhood friends to strangers, slow burn romance, heavy sexual tension, rough sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, aftercare, drinking/alcohol, K-pop idol AU
After two straight days of snowfall, the snow had finally begun to ease. Seoul looked almost normal again, streets cleared, sidewalks salted, the city breathing easier. I was breathing easier too, or at least I told myself I was.
Two days of living with Sunghoon had done something strange to my chest. The apartment still felt too big, too expensive, too much like it belonged to someone I used to know and not the quiet, broad-shouldered idol who now shared his space with me without complaint.
He was still the same old Sunghoon in a lot of ways; short answers, long silences, that cool stare that made strangers step aside. But every now and then the ice cracked. A soft laugh when I burned toast. The way he left an extra blanket folded at the foot of my bed. Little things. Enough to make my stomach twist whenever I caught myself smiling at him like we were seventeen again.
We were back at HYBE today because he had meetings and I had nowhere else to be. I tagged along, badge clipped to my coat, pretending I belonged in the sleek hallways. He didn’t seem to mind. We’d gotten comfortable enough that he’d let me sit in on a quick vocal lesson, and I’d watched him from the corner, hoodie pulled low, voice smooth and controlled. Every time our eyes met across the room something warm flickered between us. It felt dangerous. It felt good.
My phone buzzed in my pocket while he was mid-conversation with a manager. I slipped out into the hallway, heart already sinking because I recognized the number. Another interview.
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you nonetheless.” I said, voice steady even though my throat burned. I hung up and stared at the blank screen. Four companies. Four no's. A full bachelor’s degree and still nothing. I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead and tried not to cry in the middle of a freaking K-pop company.
By the time Sunghoon finished, the sky outside the tinted windows had gone soft gray. We rode the elevator down in comfortable silence, shoulders brushing. In the car he glanced over once, like he wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t push. I appreciated that about him... always had.
Back at the apartment he headed straight for the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows, pulling ingredients from the fridge like he’d done it a hundred times. I perched on the island stool, chin in my hand, watching the muscles in his forearms flex while he chopped vegetables.
“So what are we having?” I asked.
“Kimchi jjigae. Easy. Warm.” He didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “You look like you need it.”
I opened my mouth to answer when my phone rang again. The screen lit up with another unknown number. My stomach dropped.
“Ah, fuck, I have to take this.” I muttered, sliding off the stool and hurrying into the living room. The call lasted less than two minutes. Another rejection. Another soft, professional 'we’ll keep your résumé on file.' I hung up with my fingers knotted in my hair.
Fuck. This was really happening. I was going to have to call my parents, Ask them to finally come pick me up so I can stay there while I continue looking for a job in Seoul. The thought of leaving Sunghoon’s apartment; Leaving him… made my stomach hurt for some reason. I was already trying to figure out how to tell him I’d be gone by the end of the week when I heard his footsteps behind me.
“You good?” His voice was low, careful.
I turned, blinking fast. “Uh, yeah... No. That was my last job call for Seoul. Another turn-down. You’d think a full English degree would open doors in a country where English isn’t the first language, but apparently not. And now I literally have to go home because I don’t have anything and I can’t exactly afford rent without a paycheck, so it’s just… a lot.” My voice cracked on the last word. I hated how small I sounded.
Sunghoon stayed quiet for a few seconds, studying me. Then, almost casually, he said, “What if you work at HYBE? They’re kinda used to your face by now. And English speakers are always useful with international fans.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“No, I’m serious. It’s perfect.” He stepped closer, eyes bright with the idea. “Sunghoon, even if that was an option, rent here is fucking expensive. I can’t pay for that.”
“You can stay here.”
My heart stuttered. “Oh no, I can’t—”
“You’re already doing it? And I really don’t mind. It’s perfect.”
“That’s a big ask.”
“It’s nothing. I don’t mind. I’ll arrange something for you tomorrow at work. For now, let’s eat.” He turned back toward the kitchen like the conversation was settled, like offering me a home was the easiest thing in the world.
I stood there in the middle of his living room, throat tight, watching his broad back as he stirred the stew. Life wasn’t that bad right now after all?
-
Three days later I walked out of the HYBE conference room with a signed contract in my hand and my pulse hammering. Sunghoon and the rest of the members were waiting in the hallway like they’d been holding their breath the entire interview. The second the door opened, six pairs of eyes snapped to me.
“Well?!” Sunghoon asked, voice tight.
“I got the job!”
“Really?!” He grabbed my waist and spun me around before I could answer, laughing into my hair while the others whooped. Jay pulled me into a quick side hug. Jake ruffled my hair. I was dizzy with relief and the solid warmth of Sunghoon’s arms around me.
“They said they were impressed by my résumé and they want me to start Monday so they can decide which group I’ll support. International fan relations, probably.”
“That’s good!” “I’m so proud of you.” “We should go out for drinks to celebrate!” The suggestions tumbled over each other as we headed for the elevators.
Drinks turned into dancing. Dancing turned into the club where the lights strobed and the floor felt like it was breathing. After some time at the bar, Sunghoon and I realized we had completely lost the group. We ended up in a far corner, away from the crush of bodies, just talking.
Sunghoon smiled at me, eyes bright even in the dim light. "I'm so happy you're back."
I laughed, a little breathless. "You don't mean that. I'm literally inviting myself into your life."
"No, really, I… missed you. Missed us." His fingers reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Then his hand slid to the back of my neck, firm and sure, and he pulled me in.
His mouth met mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. The pressure of his hand tightened just a little, and an unexpected moan slipped out of me. The sound shocked me back to reality; that I was here, in a club, making out with my former best friend.
Sunghoon’s eyes were dark, lips wet. “Don’t be sorry. I was the one who—”
“I—um—”
“We should leave?” he asked, voice rough.
“Yeah. Yeah.”
We didn’t speak in the car. The city lights blurred past the windows while my heart tried to beat its way out of my chest. By the time we reached the apartment I was shaking. I went straight to the guest bathroom... my bathroom, stripped, and stood under the hottest water I could stand, trying to scrub the taste of him off my lips. It didn’t work.
When I finally stepped out, hair damp, wearing nothing but an oversized sweater and soft cotton shorts, the apartment was quiet. I padded into the kitchen for water. The glass was halfway full when I felt him behind me; heat, presence, the faint scent of his body wash. I didn’t turn around.
“Listen,” Sunghoon said slowly, “we need to talk.”
“Do we Sunghoon?” I kept my back to him, fingers tight around the glass.
“Yes. I think we do, Ariana.” His voice was colder than usual, but underneath it something raw trembled.
I set the glass down. “Listen, I’m sorry about what happened. It shouldn’t have—I think we should just forget it after tonight. We’re going to be living together and stuff—”
“What do you mean by ‘after tonight’?” I asked, turning.
He was closer than I expected. Close enough that I had to tilt my chin to meet his eyes. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth.
“Because after that kiss…” His gaze dropped to my lips. “I think I just have to try you once.”
He kissed me again before I could answer.
This time there was no hesitation. His hands slid under my sweater, palms hot against my waist, dragging me flush against him. I felt the hard line of his cock through his sweats and my stomach flipped. My back hit the edge of the kitchen island. He lifted me onto it like I weighed nothing, spreading my thighs so he could step between them. The marble was cold under my bare ass; the contrast with his body heat made me gasp.
“Fuck,” he muttered against my mouth. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
“Hoon—”
“Tell me to stop and I will.” His fingers traced the edge of my shorts, dipping under the fabric. “But I don’t think you want me to? Do you?”
I didn’t. I really didn’t.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and yanked the shorts down my legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. Cool air hit my bare pussy and I shivered. Sunghoon’s eyes darkened as he looked down at me spread open on his kitchen counter.
“Already wet?” he said, almost to himself. Two fingers dragged through my folds, gathering slick. “Is this from the club or from me putting you on the counter like a fucking meal?”
“Both.” I whispered.
He pushed two fingers inside me without warning. The stretch punched a moan out of my throat. He curled them immediately, finding that spot that made my thighs jerk. His thumb circled my clit in tight, relentless strokes.
“Fuck, this shouldn’t feel this good.” I gasped. “We’re supposed to be friends.”
“Well yeah; friends don’t finger each other on kitchen counters.” he agreed, voice low and filthy. “But I’ve been hard since you moaned into my mouth at the club. Since you let me grab your throat like you wanted me to own you.” He pumped his fingers faster, the wet sound obscene in the quiet kitchen. “You gonna come for me right here, Choi? Gonna soak my hand before I even get my cock in you?”
My head fell back. The pressure built too fast, too sharp. I came with a broken cry, walls fluttering around his fingers, thighs shaking against the marble. Sunghoon didn’t stop until I was whimpering, oversensitive, pushing at his wrist.
He pulled his fingers free and sucked them clean, eyes locked on mine. Then he lifted me off the counter like I was nothing and carried me to the living room. My sweater rode up; cool air kissed my soaked pussy again.
He dropped onto the couch and settled me straddling his lap. I could feel every inch of his cock straining against his sweats, thick and hot. I ground down instinctively and he groaned, head tipping back against the cushions.
“Take it out.” he ordered.
My hands shook as I shoved his waistband down. His cock sprang free, flushed dark, tip already leaking. I wrapped my fingers around him and stroked once, twice, just to feel the weight of it. Sunghoon’s hips jerked.
He grabbed my hips and lifted me, lining himself up. I sank down slowly, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. The stretch burned in the best way. I’d never felt so full.
“Fuck—” Sunghoon hissed. “Your pussy’s gripping me like it doesn’t want to let go.”
I rolled my hips experimentally. The drag of his cock against my walls made both of us moan. His hands slid under my sweater, cupping my breasts, thumbs flicking over my nipples until they ached.
“Ride me.” he said. “Show me how bad you want it.”
I braced my hands on his shoulders and started to move; slow at first, then faster, chasing the angle that made stars burst behind my eyelids. Every time I dropped down he met me with a thrust, the slap of skin loud in the quiet apartment. I could feel myself getting wetter, slick dripping down his cock and onto his balls.
“God, look at you.” he growled. “Bouncing on my cock like you were made for it. Pussy taking every inch like a fucking slut.”
The dirty talk made me clench around him. He felt it and smirked.
“You like that? Like hearing how wet you are for me?” He thrust up hard enough to jolt me. “Bet you’ve thought about this. Bet you touched yourself in my guest room thinking about me bending you over the kitchen counter.”
I couldn’t answer. I was too busy chasing the orgasm building low in my belly. Sunghoon’s hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit again, rubbing tight circles while I rode him.
“Come on my cock.” he ordered. “Come for me and then I’m flipping you over.”
The command pushed me over the edge. I came with a choked sob, walls pulsing, thighs shaking. Sunghoon fucked me through it, holding me steady while I trembled.
Before the aftershocks even faded he lifted me off his cock, spun me around, and bent me over the back of the couch. My sweater rode up to my ribs. He kicked my feet apart and slammed back inside in one smooth thrust. The new angle punched the air from my lungs.
“Fuck—Sunghoon—”
“Shh. Just take it.” His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned while he fucked me hard and deep. The couch creaked with every thrust.
The filthy squelch of his cock driving into me filled the room. I moaned into the cushions, drooling, eyes rolling back. “Gonna come again.” I warned, voice wrecked.
He groaned like I’d punched him and slammed in one last time, cock pulsing as he came. I felt every throb, felt his hips stutter, felt him collapse over me, breathing hard against my neck.
We stayed like that for a long minute, hearts hammering in sync. Eventually he pulled out carefully, and disappeared to the bathroom. He came back with a warm cloth and cleaned me up with surprising gentleness, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs.
When he was done he pulled me into his arms on the couch, my head on his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare hip.
“So.” he said quietly, “still want to pretend that kiss didn’t happen?”
I laughed, breathless. “Pretty sure we’re past pretending.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go anywhere. Not after that.”
ex for a reason : 33 y/n activism over the years: A THREAD
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : can you tell she really does feel guilty. i hope this can at least give her some credit for how much she likes him. she’s being fully transparent about it because she doesn’t wanna lie to him again. she loves him so much… uri jakeyn…. 🕊️
.𖥔 ݁S . When your dad passed and just before he left for Australia, Jake promised to be back when you both were at your best versions. Now four years later, you found yourself back in your toes and doing what you tried for the past years: living in the present and enjoy every second of it.
PAIRING ex!jake x fem!reader TAGS smau (+written) ; crack ; adults au ; miscommunication ; cliche 𝓦 will be added on chapters if needed! ✎ wc 953
Asked Sunghoon as he stepped out of the car and saw Yizhuo holding you from falling.
“Too much.”
He kissed his teeth and grabbed you, placing your arm around his shoulder and respectfully placing his hand on your waist to keep you steady. “Hey, Y/nnie. Had so much fun, didn't we?” He asked as he helped you to the car.
“Sunghoon, we’re so old and so lonely.” You sobbed, shaking your head. Taken back, Sunghoon frowned. He was old and lonely.
“Why am I, as an adult, this lonely? I should be with someone right now—watching movies or something, not going to a party with models and drinking!”
“There are models in there?!” Sunghoon raised his voice, about to leave you standing there alone which caused you to flinch on his hold. “Sorry, let’s get you in the car, okay?” You nodded, walking with him.
Carefully, he helped you into the car, closing the door once you were completely in. The girls had gotten in already except for Yizhuo, who was having a small chat with Jackson Wang.
Sunghoon’s eyes widened, turning to Jay. “Holy shi—Is that Jackson Wang?” He whispered.
The two stared at the Chinese man, making him nod awkwardly and wave. The two looked away, pretending like they weren’t admiring him. When Yizhuo finally got in the car, they did the same, driving off.
“Why wasn’t I invited to this party? You’re telling me you were invited to a Jackson Wang party full of models and I wasn’t invited? Park Sunghoon wasn’t invited?”
The Chinese girl glared at Sunghoon, “that’s exactly why I didn’t invite you. Besides, it was girl’s night, not girl’s and whore’s night.” She spat.
“Woah! I’ll let you know my whore phase is way over. Truly, I’m a new man now.” He threw her a kiss at her.
You scrunched your face and squished between the seats, looking at Sunghoon. He looked down at you with a smile, blinking.
“Hey there, Y/n.”
You smiled back at him then sat back, shoulders bumping with Yunjin’s, who groaned in return.
“Ouchy, my shoulder.” She pouted.
Jay looked at her through the rear view mirror, furrowing his eyebrows. “What happened that you guys decided to drink so much?” He asked worriedly.
From the seat behind Jay, Aeri sighed. “Literally nothing. One second Y/n and Yunjin are gone, the next second they’re like this.” She gestured to her two friends.
“Y/n didn’t even get to talk to Juyeon.” Yizhuo rolled her eyes.
“The Lee Juyeon? He’s like the hottest model!” Sunghoon exclaimed, making your eardrums ring. “No homo, though.”
Jay ignored his friend and glanced at Yizhuo, “Y/n and Juyeon?” He mouthed through the rear view mirror.
She shrugged. “He’s nice. I promise.”
You looked out the window and sighed. “I wouldn’t want to date a supermodel though, they’re too perfect.” You mumbled incoherently, only Yunjin managed to understand you.
“Babe, you are perfect.”
Jay snorted at his girlfriend’s words, eyes on the road. Sunghoon looked back at you two. “Y/n, let’s double date, you with Lee Juyeon and then you tell him to invite a supermodel friend. Yeah?” He grinned.
You pushed his head away, causing him to groan. “We’re too old to be doing this. Maybe if we were younger.”
“Age is nothing, Y/nnie.” He mumbled, your hand still on his face to keep him away. “I can’t die until I date a supermodel,” his eyes flickered to Yizhuo. “She doesn’t count.”
“We literally never dated, dude.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
The girls snorted at his comment.
Yizhuo turned to you and pointed her finger, “I’m still setting you up with him, and I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
You let go of Sunghoon’s face and let it fall on your lap, a small frown appearing on your lips, making him frown too. He glanced at his friends who were already minding their own business, and looked back to you.
“You okay?”
You gave him a small nod. “Just tired.”
“Don’t worry. We’re almost home.”
You gave him a very lazy smile which made him chuckle and sit back, eyes back on the road. You didn’t even notice how Jay’s eyes flickering to you through the rear view mirror.
When the group finally arrived and took about twenty minutes to get to your apartment because Sunghoon and Jay had to carry all of you back to back, you were finally resting in your bed–no change of clothes, just exhaustedly glued to the pillows under you.
“Anything else, ladies?”
You all shook your heads, making Sunghoon give a thumbs up in the air, making you give him one back. He quietly shut the door to your bedroom with a chuckle, where you all hugged each other like sardines in your huge bed, and walked back to the living room where Jay sat.
“She turned down a supermodel. How dare she?”
Jay snorted at his comment. “You know she’s not like that.”
“Bro, she’s turned down every guy she’s gone on a date with. All ten out of tens—no homo.” Sunghoon stretched, a yawn leaving his lips. “Anyways, do you know if she has some snacks? I’m hungry.”
“She will murder you if she finds out you ate her snacks.”
He shrugged, already making his way to the kitchen pantry. “Nah, she loves me too much.”
Jay rolled his eyes, standing up and following him. Before he could open his mouth, his phone started ringing, making him groan when he took his phone out and saw the contact name “RIKI!” flashing in his eyes.
“YOU GUYS WENT TO JACKSON WANG’S PARTY AND DIDN’T TELL ME?”
mars yap its so hard writing with an adult mindset bc what do adults do hello. but also, I would be like y/n because by the time I'm 25 I should be dating the LOML
It's not me if I don't involve my biases from other groups, like yes lee juyeon from the Boyz wanted to go out with me and yes I went to a Jackson wang part. What can I say...I'm a watttpad girlie
sorry for the late update:((( I hope you enjoy this small chapter (shortest one yet in terms of writing and text screenshots lol) feel free to tell me if there are grammar mistakes or any mistake in general btw
♬.ᐟ GIRLS & BOYS | z. yufan & n. riki & k. ohyul
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can’t we turn back? there’s no time. the price of parting just keeps getting more expensive.
all content is purely fictional !
synopsis. after waking up to the worst period cramps known to mankind, you send your boyfriend, jungwon, one slightly concerning text before deciding to accept your fate. unfortunately for you, he interprets your message as a life-or-death emergency and races to your apartment. what follows is an entire day of your caring and loving boyfriend knowing exactly what you need before you even ask. because he loves you more than anyone else.
pairings. caring!bf!jungwon x gf!reader
cw. tooth rotting fluff, mentions of periods and period cramps, mood swings, reader feeling insecure during her period, comfort, jungwon is the sweetest boyfriend alive, domestic fluff
✿𓈒ॱ⬭ᩙ malia’s note. I’m on my period so instead of messaging my boyfriend I made this boyfriend jungwon oneshot instead where he takes care of reader😂😂😂I only said one truth I don’t have a fcking boyfriend can we all stop now pls OK THIS REALLY CUTE I LIKE TJIS ONE
you weren’t entirely sure what stage of grief you were currently experiencing, but you were fairly certain it was somewhere between denial and acceptance.
acceptance that you would, in fact, not be surviving today. it wasn’t fair, really.
you were exhausted, alongside with your whole body aching— hell, your cramps were beginning to make you wonder if your uterus wanted you to die right then and there.
you’d contemplated getting up to grab the bottle of water sitting on your desk for about thirty minutes now.
the bottle remained untouched.
you remained in pain.
after staring at your ceiling for another few minutes, you slowly grabbed your phone before sending your boyfriend, jungwon, what you believed to be a perfectly reasonable text message, your fingers moving with exaggerated effort because, of course, typing was a major contribution to your suffering.
i’m dying.
three minutes later, just enough time for you to close your eyes and readjust your specific position ever so slightly.
won if i don’t make it, i leave everything to you.
another minute passed before you sent one final message, this time with even more conviction, sealing your fate.
i’m ugly and dying.
you nodded to yourself, slowly lowering your phone onto your chest like you had just delivered your final words. yes. that perfectly summarized your current situation.
your phone immediately began ringing, the sound far too loud for your sensitive and suffering soul.
jungwon.
“…hello?” you answered weakly, your voice coming out softer and more pitiful than you intended.
“baby?”
his voice softened almost immediately the moment he heard you, warm and familiar, but laced with concern as he sat up a little straighter on his end.
“mhm?” you hummed in response, barely moving, still pressed into your blanket since as of the moment, it the only thing keeping you alive and sane.
“are you okay?”
“no.” you answered honestly after a pause, staring blankly at your ceiling as if it had the answer to your suffering.
“are you out of bed, baby?”
“…also no.” you admitted even quieter, your voice cracking just slightly at the end like it pained you to say it out loud.
there was a brief moment of silence on the other line before he quietly sighed, the kind of sigh that already sounded like he was putting on his shoes.
“are you on your period?”
“how did you know?” you asked, offended that he had figured it out so quickly.
“because you told me you were ugly and dying.” he replied simply, making it seem like it was the most obvious deduction in the world, his tone soft. “that’s fair.” you mumbled, accepting your fate with no further argument.
he couldn’t help but laugh quietly at your response, the sound warm and fond, “how bad?” he asked gently.
“on a scale of one to ten?” you repeated slowly.
“mhm.” he confirmed, already bracing himself.
“a hundred.” you said very seriously, as if you were actually reporting official medical data.
“i’m coming over.” he said immediately, voice firm but calm, already moving.
“NO.” you shot back instantly, sitting up just slightly in panic before immediately regretting it and collapsing back down.
“why?” he asked, genuinely confused but still patient. “because i’m ugly.” you said with full certainty, that alone was a valid reason to deny entry to your concerned boyfriend.
“baby.” his voice dropped softer, more patient, like he was talking to someone who was clearly not thinking straight— because clearly, you weren’t.
“jungwon, i’m serious.” you insisted, clutching your blanket tighter around your face.
“and i’m serious too.” he replied without hesitation, tone steady— it was impossible to argue with.
you frowned slightly at his response before curling further underneath your blankets, pulling up your protective shields. “my hair looks weird.” you muttered, voice muffled.
“it’s pretty.” he said immediately— to him, there was no room for debate.
“i look like an evil witch.”you continued, staring at the ceiling again dramatically.
“still pretty.” he answered just as quickly, unwavering.
“i have eyebags.” you added, pointing at your face even though he couldn’t see you. “very pretty eyebags.” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
“you don’t even know what i look like right now.” you argued weakly, though your voice had already lost most of its fight.
“i know exactly what you look like.” he replied calmly.
you paused at his words, blinking slowly.
“what?”
“I know you’re wearing my hoodie.” he said, acting as if he was reading a checklist in his head.
“and your hair is tied up because you don’t like it touching your face whenever you’re sick.” he continued, voice soft yet very certain.
“aaaalso i’m assuming you’ve been laying in bed all morning because your water bottle is probably still sitting on your desk untouched.”
you slowly turned your head towards your water bottle.
gosh darn it. how’d he know?
“you’re scary sometimes.” you muttered, half impressed, half offended. “i know.” he said simply, like it was a compliment.
before you could complain any further, he laughed softly into the phone, the sound lighter now. “i’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?” he said gently, already grabbing his keys.
“what if i lock my door?” you tried again, weakly bargaining.
“baby, you know I have the spare key.” he replied immediately.
“what if i pretend i’m not home?” you added, though even you didn’t sound convinced.
“you’ve been complaining to me for minutes now, I don’t think you can go anywhere.” he pointed out, amused. “that’s actually a really good point.” you admitted after a pause, you were already accepting defeat.
twenty minutes later, you heard the familiar sound of your apartment door unlocking, followed by the soft click that made you immediately feel safer. “baby?” he called out gently, voice echoing through your space as he stepped inside.
“in here…” you called back dramatically, raising your voice just enough to be heard. “please tell my family that i love them, yeah?”
jungwon laughed quietly as he stepped into your room, his expression immediately softening when he saw you curled underneath your blankets.
his poor baby.
you’d buried yourself almost completely underneath the covers, only your face peeking out, hugging one of your stuffed animals, looking at your boyfriend after what seems like going through the hardest battle of your life.
“hi pretty.” he greeted softly, voice warm as he walked closer. “jungwon, i’m literally dying.” you repeated, though your tone was far less convincing now that he was here.
“and you still look pretty.” he replied gently, smiling as he sat down beside you.
before you could complain any further, he’d already leaned down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, lingering for a second longer.
“you feel warm.” he murmured, hand lightly resting against your forehead.
“it’s because i’m perishing, it’s the end of me.” you insisted dramatically. “i don’t think that’s how that works.” he said softly, brushing your hair back with careful fingers.
you watched quietly as he placed everything he’d brought onto your desk, moving with practiced ease.
oh, your favorite snacks.
even your favorite flowers.
wait, even the exact chocolate you liked?
hey is that your favorite drink?
no way, those are your favorite pajamas that you’d accidentally left at his apartment. you thought you lost those.
and lastly, he couldn’t forget your favorite comfort plushie that had been living at his apartment for the past month.
“won can i marry you?” you asked immediately, completely serious— you were not joking at all. “that’s a little sudden.” he laughed softly, shaking his head as he sat back down beside you.
“no it isn’t!” you insisted, sitting up slightly before immediately flopping back down.
he laughed again before sitting beside you on the bed, gently brushing your hair away from your face with slow, careful movements. “did you eat?” he asked, already knowing the answer but asking anyway.
“baby.” he repeated, more gently this time.
“….uhh, chocolate?” you answered after a pause, “that isn’t a meal.” he said immediately.
“agree to disagree.” you mumbled stubbornly.
“medicine?” he asked next. no comment.
“water?” he tried again. no comment once again!
“baby.” he sighed softly, already reaching for something.
“ohhh please next question...” you cut in quickly, refusing accountability.
he paused— but he couldn’t help and laughed quietly, gently pinching your cheek, just enough to make you squint at him. “you’re cute.” he said fondly.
“i’m actually the ugliest i’ve ever been right now.” you insisted, completely convinced.
his eyebrows furrowed almost immediately at your words, expression shifting into something more serious. “who told you that?” he asked, voice softer now.
“…my mirror.” you admitted after a pause.
“well your mirror is wrong.” he said simply, it was the most obvious fact in the world— common knowledge.
you smiled sheepishly at his response before hiding underneath your blanket once more, pulling it up to your nose. “i don’t feel pretty.” you admitted quietly, voice smaller now.
you weren’t sure why you’d admitted it so quietly.
periods always made you more emotional than you’d like to admit— jungwon learned that a long time ago.
you felt the bed dip slightly before he gently pulled the blanket away from your face just enough to look at you, careful not to overwhelm you.
“look at me for a second.” he said softly, waiting patiently.
you reluctantly lifted your head from your pillow, eyes meeting his.
“hi.” he greeted gently, smiling a little.
“…hi.” you replied, voice shy.
“you’re pretty.” he said simply, like it was a fact he didn’t need to prove.
“jungwon-” you started, already ready to argue.
“you’re pretty when you’re smiling.” he continued, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“you’re pretty when you’re talking.” he added, voice softer now, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead.
“you’re pretty when you’re mad at me.” another kiss, this time against the tip of your nose.
“you’re pretty when you’re sick.” then your cheek, lingering just a little.
“and you’re still the prettiest girl i’ve ever met when you’re laying in bed threatening to disappear because of your period.” he finished, smiling fondly.
you couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his words, the sound breaking through your exhaustion. “you’re a bit biased.” you mumbled, though there was no real complaint in your voice.
“i am.” he admitted easily.
“very.” you added.
“very.” he repeated without hesitation.
there wasn’t even a second of hesitation in his answer. “i’ll always be biased when it comes to you.” he said softly, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
your expression softened immediately.
“what if i’m ugly one day?” you asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
“that’s unfortunate because i don’t think that’s possible.” he replied instantly, like the thought didn’t even compute.
“jungwon.” you whined weakly.
“i’m serious.” he said, squeezing your hand gently. he smiled softly before intertwining your fingers together, holding on because it was second nature.
“you’ll never have to earn being loved by me, baby.” he said quietly, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
your heart melted immediately at his words.
“not when you’re this beautiful and definitely not when you’re feeling like this.” he added, voice steady and warm. he paused briefly before laughing quietly.
“although, I hope you know that I do think your mood swings are particularly funny.” he teased gently.
“jungwon!” you protested immediately, sitting up just slightly. “okay we’re changing the topic.” you said quickly, burying your face in his shoulder.
he laughed quietly before pulling you into his chest, arms wrapping around you easily. “you’re very clingy today.” he murmured.
“that’s because i’m suffering.” you replied immediately.
“mhm.” he hummed, clearly amused.
“and because i missed you.” you added softer.
his smile softened immediately at your quiet confession. “i missed you too.” he said gently.
the rest of the day somehow passed by quietly, somehow.
he fed you because you refused to sit up for more than five minutes, carefully holding food up to you, like he was your caretaker— it was the most normal thing in the world.
he gently massaged your lower back whenever the cramps became particularly bad, his touch slow and grounding.
he played with your hair whenever he felt you growing quieter than usual, fingers threading through it absentmindedly. and somehow, before you could even ask for something, he was already handing it to you.
“baby?” you called softly.
“mhm?” he answered immediately.
“i kinda want chocolate...” you admitted, voice small.
he smiled softly at your words before pointing towards the bar of chocolate he’d placed beside your pillow almost two hours ago.
“won, how long has that been there?” you asked slowly.
“two hours.” he replied.
“oh.” you said, genuinely surprised.
later that evening, you found yourself comfortably laying on top of him while he played with your hair, your body finally starting to feel a little less painful.
“better?” he asked quietly.
“a little.” you admitted, eyes half closed.
“good.” he said simply, continuing to run his fingers through your hair.
you smiled sleepily at his response before pressing a small kiss against his cheek. “thank you.” you murmured.
“for what?” he asked, glancing down at you.
“for knowing me so well.” you said softly.
his expression softened almost immediately before pressing a gentle kiss against the top of your head. “of course.” he replied.
“and thank you for loving me even when i’m this dramatic and annoying.” you added, avoiding eye contact.
“only even?” he teased gently. you giggled quietly at his response. “especially when i’m dramatic and super annoying then.” you corrected.
“that sounds more accurate.” he agreed.
you sat there quietly for a few moments before speaking again. “jungwon?” you called softly.
“mhm?” he answered, still playing with your hair.
“you don’t ever get tired of this?” you asked, voice small. “of what?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“taking care of me whenever i’m on my period.” you admitted. he looked genuinely confused at your question, like it had never even crossed his mind.
“why would i?” he asked simply.
“i don’t know.” you laughed sheepishly. “i’m a lot sometimes.”
“baby.” he said immediately, tone firm but gentle. “mhm?” you hummed.
“loving you has never felt difficult to me.” he said softly. that was your favorite thing about him.
“have you ever apologized to me for breathing?”
“…what?”
“that’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“very.”
“then why would you apologize for letting me love you?”
“besides,” he added with a quiet laugh, squeezing your hand gently, “i think getting to take care of my favorite person in the world is a pretty good deal.”
you smiled helplessly at his words before cuddling impossibly closer against his chest. “you’re too perfect.” you mumbled.
“that’s funny.” he replied.
“why?” you asked sleepily.
“because i was just about to say the same thing about you.” he said softly.
this is why yang jungwon is the love of my life byrheway ok thank you for reading <꣓
part one warnings: blood and other vampire-y things, depictions of violence and injuries, angst, morally gray characters, slow burn
note: This is my latest little brain baby, and I’m so excited to be sharing it! Super heavily inspired by enha’s vampire lore and especially the songs no way back, chaconne, and of course, still monster. The title is taken from a line in hate that I made you love me by Ariana Grande but is otherwise unrelated. This one has some heavy themes/content, but at its core is about hope and love and light in the dark places. As always, I hope you enjoy! ♡
Also, please heed the warnings on this one, especially if you are sensitive to blood/violence. There is nothing overly gory or graphic, but there are scenes that describe violence (and especially the characters’ reactions to it) in detail.
I don’t have a tag list, but all recently published stories can be found on my pinned post, and my masterlist is always up to date. Thank you!
Jungwon has been alive for a long time. Too long. So long that time has begun to lose its meaning. That days, months, and even years have started to blend into a seamless, endless cycle he can never break free from. Perhaps, he thinks, life is the wrong word for whatever immortal existence he was sentenced to centuries ago. But no matter what he calls it, it never ends. It never changes.
Until one day, he stumbles across a girl that just might just change the way he thinks about everything—life, mortality, and above it all, love.
Even with a memory that holds him hostage like a vice grip, Yang Jungwon can never quite remember when exactly he gave up on his humanity.
Perhaps it was lost the moment he made his first kill. Drowning in bloodlust he didn’t yet understand and had no ability to control, maybe it was gone the second his teeth sharpened into two identical fangs. When they pierced the warm, terrified skin of his first victim with more violence than he ever thought himself capable of.
Maybe it was even before that, gone the day, centuries ago, that the strange man stopped him in a dark alley, blocking his path home. His only exit. Hood obscuring his face from view, Jungwon still remembers the way his pulse quickened in terror. The way his instincts knew, even then, that he was in danger. That this was a predator, and he, alone on the rain-slickened cobblestones, had just become prey.
He remembers the way his instincts, his human ones, screamed at him to flee. To ignore the nausea in his gut and the burn in his legs because his life could very well depend on it.
Then, he remembers the pain. First, of his body slamming into stone with the force of something stronger than any man had the right to be. Bones aching, cracking, twisting in directions they were never meant to.
None of it compared to the agony that followed. The white hot burn of poison-coated blades on his skin, against his throat. The sensation of flames consuming him from the inside out as he writhed, nails digging into the pebbles and dirt beneath him like that tether to his surroundings would somehow help him escape. Survive.
Even as his control on his limbs began to slip, Jungwon’s mind remained aware, conscious. He felt every stab of agony, every lick of pain buried somewhere deep beneath his skin, too far to reach.
Sprawled on his back, hair matted against the stones beneath him, rain poured from the sky but did nothing to soothe the fire in his veins.
Jungwon isn’t sure when the strange man left, when he retracted his fangs and left two, perfectly circular wounds in its wake. Still dripping with blood, with the last of his stolen humanity.
He doesn’t know how long he laid there. Alone, terrified, drowning in so much agony he thought surely it would consume him whole. Wishing for death, a stroke of mercy, to end his torture.
He’s not sure how long it lasted. Pain blurred everything, made the passage of time feel like sand in a bottomless hourglass.
But he does remember how eventually, finally, the white hot blades beneath his skin began to subside, to fade until all he was left with was a muddled sort of confusion and a different kind of pain. This one was duller, more of an ache than an open flame. And it didn’t sear through his whole body.
No, this new kind of burn was narrowed down to the length of his throat. And it consumed him in a different way. It didn’t render him immobile—it spurred him to move.
Begged him to follow the strange scent that had begun to draw the attention of his nose, the scuffle of faraway footsteps his ears would never have been able to hear before.
Before… Jungwon wasn’t sure. But he knew that there had once been a before and this, whatever had happened, was after.
Pushing his palms against the cobblestones beneath him, Jungwon prepared for the pain of his body he was sure had been broken. But even as he pushed himself to a sitting position, the only thing he could feel was still just the persistent, dull ache in his throat.
He looked down at his hands, his legs. His clothes had been ruined—torn, sullied, soaked from the rain that had yet to relent. But where he expected to find shallow cuts on the skin of his palms, he found only pale, smooth, unblemished skin.
His bones that he was so certain had been snapped, twisted beyond repair, all sat exactly as they should.
But still, he could see too much, hear too much. The flutter of a bird’s wings as it flittered between nearby buildings. The paws of a stray cat slinking through a nearby alleyway, still searching for shelter from the rain. He could hear their heartbeats.
He could smell them.
That alone was terrifying. But Jungwon knew he couldn’t remain immobile in a hidden corner forever. Pushing himself to stand, he was surprised at the way in which his limbs responded with such unburdened ease. The way his skin and bones and muscles seemed to obey his every command with grace, a precision he’s sure wasn’t there before.
The son of a decently accomplished astronomer, Jungwon had learned to carry himself with as much poise as his position required. He wasn’t a noble by any means, but people trusted him, trusted the advice of his father, more when he kept his smile open and only slightly guarded. When he ensured his cloak was free from tears and stains.
His father. His mother. His home. That’s where he had been going, the night he was trapped. Jungwon is unsure how much time has passed since then, but he imagines they must be worried sick.
Jungwon, after all, made a habit of never being late.
Home, he thought. He should go home. He just needed to see his family again. The confusion, the strange burn in his throat, the mysterious perfection of his body despite the way he’d been thrown to the ground like a rag doll, all were things that could be dealt with later.
He just needed to go home, to see his family, to regain some semblance of normalcy. Feet ghosting over cobblestone with uncanny grace, Jungwon knew which direction to follow. His family lived at the far edge of town, a place where the stars shone the brightest in the night sky.
Away from other homes and families, Jungwon used to resent his father’s occupation. He wished he could have been like the butcher’s son, or even the blacksmith’s daughter, both of whom lived right in the town square and grew up in between the hustle and bustle of busy days at the village market.
Jungwon’s life was slower, quieter. But as he grew older, he came to appreciate it. The silence of the night sky, the distance of the stars, all the things that once made him feel so terribly lonely, began to carry a sense of comfort.
It didn’t matter if his day had been wonderful or terrible or remarkably ordinary. Whenever night came, the stars and planets would be there. Far away, yes, but closer with the invention of the telescope.
Jungwon came to like it, too. The way the galaxy above him moved in predictable patterns. The earth’s orbit of the sun, confirmed by recent science, meant that every night, a slightly different pattern of constellations would unfold above his eyes. One he learned to treasure, since he wouldn’t see it in an identical fashion until another year came to pass.
But now, marking a silent path towards the home he craved, Jungwon felt a distinct sense of dread. It built as cobblestones faded to well worn dirt paths the further he ventured from the town center.
Above him, dusk was claiming the sky in dull shades of violet. He knew he shouldn’t have been able to hear the footsteps from so far away, the sparse clusters of chatter as the market, nearly a fifteen-minute walk from him, closed for the day. He certainly shouldn’t have been able to pick out voices, to identify their owners, to understand what they said as they bid farewell for the evening.
To hear, just as he’d been able to with the birds in the sky and the cat in the alley, the rhythmic thumping of their heartbeats.
The burn in his throat became sharper, then. The pain he thought rather dull when he awoke was starting to sing with the same fire that had been in his veins before.
Still, he continued on. Footsteps silent against the muddied path, cloak dragging against the grass where the hem had been torn.
Eventually, the rain stopped. Above him, the moon started to shine. The stars began to glow.
And Jungwon realized—despite the way he’d been left in the downpour for an uncertain amount of time, evidenced by the way his hair fell over his forehead, strands weighed down with water, the silent drag of his soaked clothes, the small puddles that had accumulated at the soles of his boots—Jungwon wasn’t cold.
His nose, even with the scent of fresh rain filling it, didn’t feel the telltale threat of an impending illness.
Flexing his fingers beneath his soaked sleeve, Jungwon searched for the numbness, waited for a shiver. But the only thing that came was the perfect response of his own pale hands.
The only thing that remained was the burn in his throat.
As the night was swallowed by another hour, Jungwon reached his home. Saw, sharper than he should have, the shape of it in the distance.
He could hear his parents inside, shuffling, muttering, worrying. He’d been right to think that his absence would be noticed.
Even from here, he could hear it, the unmistakable panic in his mother’s voice when she pleaded, “Please. Our son has been gone for three days.”
Three days. Three days.
He didn’t understand what had come to pass, not yet, but he knew that something irreparable had happened. He knew that something was horribly, terribly wrong.
He could hear the fear, the terror in their voices, but no matter how hard he tried to focus, his mind began to narrow in on the steady, sickening pound of their pulses.
Again, his throat began to ache with renowned fervency. A fever he couldn’t see past. It wasn’t hunger, not exactly, but there was something in him begging him to take. To consume.
A voice in the periphery of his own consciousness started to drawl, lazy and cloyingly sweet, it would make the burning stop. It would make everything better.
It would soothe like cool water from a fresh mountain stream.
Jungwon felt then another stab of pain. This one was sharp, deep, and narrowed down to the two teeth that framed his once charming, boyish smile.
Brow furrowed, he ran his tongue over his top teeth, right where the ache had already begun to subside, and was horrified to find an elongated, sharpened point right where his canines should have been.
Convinced his own mind must be playing tricks—a result of his three days lying cold in the rain, a hallucination from the dehydration he didn’t yet feel and the injuries that had disappeared without a trace—he brought his finger to the seam of his lips.
And with a shuddering breath, opened his jaw just enough to press it inside. But his fingertip, slow searching, came to the same conclusion. Two of his teeth had been transformed into weapons. Even then, before he fully understood what had happened, he had a word for it. Fangs.
The kind he’d only ever seen in animals. In predators who survived through violence, who sustained their own life through killing.
Jungwon’s mind began to spin, to churn with unease, with the horrifying realization he wasn’t ready to admit to himself. But no matter how long he waited, the physical manifestations of his terror never came.
There was no nausea in his gut, no tremble in his fingers. His legs were steady, solid beneath him.
And, when he brought the two longest fingers of his left hand to the hollow just beneath his throat, he felt absolutely nothing.
There was no pulse. Just a smooth, even expanse of skin. Smoother, firmer than he’d ever known flesh to be.
Horrifying conclusions already taking shape in his mind, he brought his fingers to his wrist, pressed them firmly over the place where his heartbeat should have been strongest.
But there was nothing.
Jungwon wanted to collapse. He wanted to scream. He wanted his body to feel familiar again. He yearned for any sensation that wasn’t the burn in his throat.
But no matter how long he stood there, beneath the stars on the forest-lined path that led straight to his home, his body never became his again.
The legs that should have grown weary from supporting his weight remained steady, unburdened. The stomach that should have protested in hunger or rolled in nausea, was silent. The eyes that should have welled with hopeless, terrified tears, stayed dry and entirely too clear.
The only thing that began to shift, to build, to change at all, was the burn in his throat. The sensation he once called dull slowly but was now beginning to singe like an open flame. Sparking against him from the inside out. Begging him to put the fire out, to soothe it.
It wasn’t hunger, not exactly. Not the kind he’d become familiar with in all twenty-two years of his life. But it wanted the same things. Satiation, relief. To have, to drink, its fill.
And, with the sickening progression of a fate already sealed, it began to focus on the heartbeats of his parents.
Jungwon didn’t, couldn’t, explain what finally spurred his feet to move. He craved a familiar face, something normal amidst all the agony while the monster buried in his bones begged for relief. To be unleashed.
Jungwon wasn’t sure who he was when he approached his own home—if he was the human he’d been or the monster he’d become.
Flames licking at his throat, terror consuming what was left of his mind, he hovered just outside the entrance, tucked away in the shadows.
He could hear it, he could feel it, he could smell it—the sounds of their despair, their fear, their anguish. Desperate for relief, he hunched, heels flat against the earth, knees tucked to his chest, head hung in a dizzying mix of thirst and shame so potent it threatened to consume him.
Jungwon brought his hands to his head, covered his ears with the expanse of his palms, pressed with as much force as he could muster. But it was no use. He could still hear everything. Every swish of his mother’s skirt. Every drag of his father’s footsteps. Every traitorious beat of their living, mortal hearts.
The fear was eating at him. He knew, no matter how badly he wanted to, that he shouldn’t enter. That his own home, once a sanctuary, would transform into a battlefield of his own making were he to cross the threshold. He knew, no matter how intense the burn in his throat became, that he was not ready to have bodies in his wake. That he refused to let his own flesh and blood become victims of his doing.
Still, the voice, the monster, the urge, was becoming stronger by the second. His throat burned. As if an iron rod had been pulled from the blacksmith’s furnace and now sat inside his skin.
His humanity, whatever threads of it were left, was disappearing by the moment, vanishing into the inky black expanse of the midnight sky above him. The stars that he’d once longed for wouldn’t save him now.
He knew what his hunger was now. The truth of it, with every passing second, was becoming clearer.
Thirst.
A specific kind, one that yearned for life. Innocence., And then always back to his stolen mind’s feverish chant of the only thing that could save him now, that could end his agony. That would inevitably push him past the point of redemption.
Blood.
Almost of its own accord, his body began to move, to rise back to his full height. To turn its gaze in the direction of his home, his parents inside and the blood that flowed sweet and sure through their veins.
It would be better, he thought, if his actions truly were automatic. If the monster inside had taken full control. At least then, he would be absolved of his guilt. He wouldn’t have to feel every glasslike shard of resistance, of despair, as the havoc he was about to wreak began to feel more and more inevitable. A death march he was beating with his own traitorous drum.
He was going to do it. Him, Jungwon, with the loving son he’d once been still buried deep inside of him, still begging him not to. Repressed, but not erased. A full witness to the crime he was going to commit, to the sins he would never be able to wash from his skin.
Eyes sliding up with the steadiness of a predator, they got caught on the tiny puddle that had formed a stone’s throw from his feet. Born from the rain and held by the place where the earth dipped slightly, a small pool of water had gathered.
It reflected the night sky above it, the moon and stars contained in its slightly blurred surface.
Jungwon wasn’t sure why he did it. What gave him the strength to pause, what curiosity encouraged him to move forward. Slowly, all the way until the reflection of the sky above him was obscured by his own features.
The puddle now a mirror, a reflection for his own likeness, his gaze traced the planes of his face. The angle of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone. The hair that spilled across his forehead and had just begin to curl at the ends, a result of the rain.
Despite the war in his mind, the agony in his throat, the violence singing beneath his skin, Jungwon recognized himself. There, his own slightly warped reflection found him nearly identical to the man he’d been three days ago.
But as his gaze lifted from the bow of his lips up the bridge of his nose, the place where it landed was enough to have a shuddering exhale spilling from his lips.
His eyes. Once dark enough to see stars within themselves, looked back at him with a bright, ruby shade of red.
For a moment, Jungwon had what he asked for. Staring at his own reflection, the horror in his own eyes, his humanity shattered through the frenzy in his mind.
He stumbled, he fell, on legs that had become infallible, all the way to his knees. Trousers soaking through with the mud beneath him, he reached his fingers forward, all the way until they hovered just above his own reflection in the puddle.
Then, with more strength than his body had ever been capable of before, more than any human could ever possess, he slammed his open palm across the surface.
Droplets flew through the air, fell harmlessly to the grass surrounding them. All Jungwon could do was heave shallow breaths through his chest. But even when the water stilled once again, when he could find his own reflection in it, all he saw was himself. All he saw was a monster.
The strength he found to stand, to turn away from the only home he’d even known, came from somewhere within him he was afraid he wouldn’t reach again if he didn’t leave now.
There was no goodbye, no explanation. He didn’t have the parchment he needed to leave so much as a note.
As far as his parents knew, as they and the rest of the town eventually came to accept, after months and months of searching, Yang Jungwon had vanished into thin air.
They weren’t wrong, but the truth was still shaped a bit differently. It couldn’t be captured in their sorrows, in their speculative attempts at explanation.
Jungwon had vanished, but he remained, too. The towns he passed through began to feel meaningless. The trail of bodies, however unwillingly, he left in his wake started to all look the same. Faces blurring together until they felt like one person. One hateful, vengeful victim that saw him for what he was and wanted him dead for it.
For years, after every kill, once the bloodlust had been dulled to a quiet trickle and his fangs once again retracted with a quick, sharp jolt of pain to look just like regular teeth, Jungwon wished for the same. He sat in open fields and above deep waters and on the precipice of steep cliffs begging for his own life, or whatever horrific echo of it was left, to end.
The creature of night he’d become didn’t deserve to live. Jungwon didn’t want him to. He searched, in every monastery and temple and piece of scholarly learning he could get his cold hands on, for anything that could end his agony.
But everywhere he went, shadows lingered. Death, not his own, followed in his wake.
He tried, once, to isolate himself away from the world completely. To let his own supply of blood run completely dry. To starve himself, he hoped, to death.
The cave he found was dark. A shadowy outcropping that even the most accomplished hunters and explorers would never dare to venture to. With resolve in his mind a slight burn already tingling in his throat, he laid down, back against the cold, wet stone beneath him.
Jungwon isn’t sure how long he laid there. Weeks, perhaps. Maybe even months. Growing weaker by the day, until the agony in his throat became just as sharp as the day he became a monster. He hadn’t felt a burn so potent, so intense, since the day he was changed.
But he felt it, then, alone in that cave.
And then, horrifyingly, he felt nothing at all. His mind, once burdened by the regret, the shame, the all-consuming guilt of what he’d become, was gone. In its wake was only sensation. The pure, fiery flames of thirst that anchored his consciousness to movement.
Jungwon didn’t want to stand, didn’t want to leave the cave. He didn’t want to do anything at all. It was as if his body has devoured his mind from the inside out and the only left was a sickening loop of the same frenzied thought.
Blood. Blood. Blood.
It played on an endless cycle through his mind as his sharpened senses carried him, with the last of his fading strength, for days. All the way until he reached the outskirts of a small village. It wasn’t all too terribly far from the one he had grown up in.
As he approached, Jungwon didn’t wonder if a butcher or a blacksmith or even an astronomer lived here too. He didn’t think about the people at all. Their lives, in his current state of mind, were only as valuable as the blood they could give him.
Jungwon didn’t feel that familiar lick of terror, the horror at what he knew he was about to do. His mind was singular and his vision was red.
And when he finally descended upon the town before him, he left more devastation in his wake than he’d ever done before.
There was no dissonance in his actions, no morality to stop him. His body knew it needed to consume, and if it had to mute his thoughts, numb his feelings to do so, it would. It did.
By the time evening fell, there were no living souls left.
Jungwon, blood dripping from his mouth, his clothes, pooling at his feet, felt his mind come back to him in slow, sickening waves.
Staring at the remnants of the violence he’d just unleashed, his mind began to fill with horror. The town his blood-addled mind had carried him to had become a battlefield. One that his victims had no chance of ever standing victorious on.
But as Jungwon gazed out on the wreckage around him, victory was the last word that came to mind.
All the guilt and shame his attempted self-starvation had muted came back and struck him with the full force of what he’d just done.
Jungwon didn’t try it again. He ensured, from that day forward, that he would never let himself get hungry enough to enter that state again. It still ate at him, still made the remnants of his humanity scream in pain every time he took a life, but he vowed to never cause such horrors, such widespread violence again.
Instead, he turned his undying efforts elsewhere. To finding that man that had done this to him, that rainy afternoon back in his village, already decades ago.
Jungwon searched every corner he could reach, scoured ancient texts for mentions of undead monsters and followed every trail he found until it ran cold. He knew he must be out there somewhere. After all, he suspected that the man who forced immortality into his veins must carry it with him as well.
He knew that he had become like him. Two sides of a terrible coin. Existing. Enduring. Sustaining themselves on the blood of others.
But no matter how many stones he unturned, Jungwon watched every lead turn to smoke in his loosening grip.
And as the centuries passed, so too did his urgency. His endless days and nights were still choked with his prayers for relief, still fueled by hope that he would one day have at least answers if he could never have his vengeance, but he eventually came to accept that he would never find any of it.
He couldn’t be killed, not by his own hand or any other. He couldn’t die.
And he couldn't find a monster that didn’t want to be found. One with the ability to slip away like shadows and never leave a trace.
He couldn’t even age. No matter how many mirrors he caught his own reflection in, what he found was always the same. Except for his eyes.
The gaze that had once glowed red had dulled to a deep crimson. One that could be mistaken for a dark brown if you didn’t look too closely. If obscured by the shadows of night.
Jungwon changed, too. The lust for blood that consumed him began to feel less like an uncontrollable, all-consuming urge and more like a simmering boil. It was always there, and it still sharpened to a blade against his throat if he let it go unsatisfied for too long, but over the centuries, the feverish urgency began to fade.
In its absence, he taught himself restraint. Control. Learned to take without killing. To minimize suffering, to subdue before striking. There were still moments when the monster in his head outweighed the person he was trying to be. When his baser instincts overruled the humanity he watched slip helplessly through his fingers like sand.
But he got better at it. And as the centuries changed, so did his options. As discoveries of blood transfusions took root in the medical world, so did the ability to extract it. Store it. Keep it for extended periods of time. Jungwon never felt good about stealing from blood banks, ransacking hospitals in the dead of night. But in his mind, thievery was a far more forgivable crime than murder.
He didn’t have to go to war with himself every time the hunger became too strong to ignore. Didn’t have to hunt down a victim, to hope that he’d be able to stop himself before the blood loss became too severe to recover from.
He didn’t have to feel the sickening slide of his mouth against their throats, the helpless gurgle of stifled pain as his elongated, sharpened teeth pierced their skin.
In the absence of bloodlust, he started looking for meaning again. One that wasn’t fueled entirely by self-hatred or revenge or the desire to end his own life.
It started small, with tiny things. First, he learned to control himself around animals. To feed the stray cats he came across, to trust himself enough to reach out and stroke the soft fur just behind their ears. To let them, once his presence became familiar, curl up in his lap, purring against his chest.
Jungwon learned that his touch could be gentle, too. That even though he’d become a monster, he was capable of holding things softly. Of making them better instead of worse.
Eventually, he learned to trust himself around people, too. Humans. Echoes of what he once was. He taught himself to hold his breath when the urge became overwhelming, to keep his supply of blood bags healthy because he always had better control when he was well-fed.
Over the centuries, the wealth he accumulated was no small amount. He began to use it—to travel, to see new parts of the world, to find homes in his favorites. At first, they were isolated. Small, unwanted, forgotten houses far away from neighbors that would test his still shaky control.
But with time, his control became more solid, less fallible. Jungwon still remembers the first apartment he ever bought, one with neighbors and families and community that he’d been isolating himself from for hundreds of years.
He was still on the outside of it, of course. He can count on one hand the number of times he actually spoke with one of his fellow tenants. But he learned that he could still exist, could co-exist without leaving bright red trails of violence in his wake.
Time passed, and he became braver. Bought colored contacts that stung his eyes but allowed him to try things he’d never imagined he would. Public transportation. Shopping malls. Amusement parks. The movie theater.
University. A job. He didn’t need it—his wealth was already compounding on itself. At least financially, he could sustain himself as long as he needed to. Indefinitely. But every hour of his first part-time position at the local library felt like a gift, like a hard won victory.
The century was turning, and technology changed with it. He learned how to use the clunky machine of a computer that whirred whenever he pushed the on button and took fifteen minutes to load the library database. He learned how to help people find the stories, the articles, the novels they searched for without feeling tethered to his urge to consume.
It was strange, having to relearn humanity all over again. But in the time that had passed, things had changed to the point of becoming nearly unrecognizable.
People talked differently, thougut differently. The social order and rules that he learned as a child didn’t apply to the twenty-first century.
But Jungwon had overcome hardships worse than accidentally committing a social faux pas, and he would rise to this challenge too.
He learned to smile at the appropriate times and speak with patience even when people approached him with complaints that weren’t his fault. He wrote down slang terms in his notebook and studied them when his shifts were slow.
He watched, observed families and friends and lovers. Strangers and colleagues. He found the way they spoke to each other, interacted with each other, moved around each other absolutely fascinating.
And eventually, he started trying it too. Talking to people, approaching them first. Starting to crave the validation of a productive conversation, a friendly exchange of words.
It wasn’t much—usually just commentary on the weather, as hed learned modern humans loved to do, but it was something.
For the first time in centuries, Jungwon began to think that his life, whatever it had become, didn’t have to be forfeit. That even if immortality had stolen meaning from his days and connection from his existence, maybe he could still find a quiet sort of peace in moments like these.
Times when his existence wasn’t a burden, a threat to others. When he was able to help, to soothe, to comfort.
And maybe, he thought, he prayed, he hoped, there would be moments, however fleeting, where that would feel like enough.
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
— NEW YORK CITY, 2026
With a practiced sort of mild disinterest, Yang Junwon glances up over the top of his laptop screen. Covertly, because he isn’t trying to draw attention to himself. Or the porcelain mug of overpriced coffee he’d purchased to gain access to his favorite seat in the corner of the neighborhood cafe. The one he has yet to take a single sip from.
He’s tried before. He thought it would help him build his facade of normalcy. But whether it’s coffee or tea or even something as neutral as water, he can never quite stomach the taste of human food.
Ears already attuned to the argument starting to unfold in front of him, Jungwon picks up on the sudden spike in your heartbeat.
Annoyed, he thinks you must be. Agitated. And there’s something else beneath it, something he’d recognize anywhere. Guilt.
It makes him linger. Makes him curious. Focus zeroing in on the table where you sit instead of tuning it out.
“I already asked you once,” he hears you whisper, trying to keep your voice low enough to avoid detection from unwanted ears. Despite the centuries, he still feels a bit sorry where your voice reaches him. Feels like he’s invading your privacy, even though he doesn’t mean to, not really. “Can we please not do this here?”
Jungwon glances up again, unbidden. But his curiosity gets the best of him. He still finds it so interesting, all the ways in which humans talk to one another.
There’s always so much emotion, so much simmering just beneath the surface. So much of the truth is buried in intonation and body language and words left unsaid. It’s fascinating.
With a pang of something time has dulled to regret, he remembers the arguments he used to have with the butcher’s son whenever he felt he’d been overcharged for beef. Now, those memories have become shadows, echoes of the emotions that play out in front of him, all around him. He knows that his feelings, his annoyance, were just as real once, too. But now, it just feels like a lifetime ago.
Jungwon’s focus returns to you where you sit at a table on the opposite side of the cafe, across from a man with his back turned to Jungwon.
Hand pulling through your hair, Jungwon follows the movement with his eyes. You’re young, he thinks. Maybe around the same age he was—is. The age he’s been frozen at despite the incessant forward march of time.
The tote bag you hang from your chair, emblazoned with the logo of a local university, makes him think you must be a student.
Before he can ponder it for much longer, the man across from you asks. “Then when are you going to let us have this conversation?” His irritation is different, Jungwon can tell. Born of frustration, most likely. “Graduation is in less than a week. My parents are flying in tomorrow, ____.”
____. It must be your name. Pretty, he thinks, as he lets it swirl around in his mind for a moment longer. Drips down into the growing puddle of thoughts he keeps tucked away for later.
“I don’t know.” Your words are slightly too sharp. Defensive, Jungwon notes. Your eyes are cloudy, not quite meeting the man across from you. Jungwon can tell from here. It’s plain as day, written all across your features. You’re hiding something. “I just… I’ve been busy with graduation and my internship, and I haven’t had time to think about it, okay?”
“Haven’t had time?” Even with his back turned, Jungwon can sense the disbelieving look that crosses the man’s face. “Or just haven’t wanted to?”
“That’s not fair—”
“No, what’s not fair is that we’ve been dating for almost a year now, and you still haven’t let me tell anyone about it. My own mother is up my ass about a girlfriend every phone call, every holiday I visit home, and I just have to sit there and pretend like you don’t exist. I want…” The man’s voice breaks for a moment, a sudden surge of emotion choked in his throat. It feels too big, too vulnerable an admission for a cafe. “You mean the world to me, ___,” he whispers. “I want them to meet you.”
“Jake…” Jungwon hears you sigh. Resigned, like you’ve already given something up. Like you’re not ready to admit it, even to yourself.
Jungwon’s gotten good at this, he thinks. Reading into other people’s conversations, hearing the meaning behind their words.
The man across from you, Jake, seems to have the same ability. “I just… I just don’t understand why.” The anger is gone, has shifted into something softer. Weaker. More pliable. Whatever you’re hiding, Jungwon can’t help but think that Jake would understand. Or at least would try his very best to. And Jungwon thinks he must be begging when he pleads quietly, “Help me understand.”
A moment passes. Jungwon hears your heartbeat stutter, your breath catch in your throat. He watches, as covertly as he can, as a flicker of something almost apologetic flashes through your eyes.
It’s gone just as quickly as it came. Too fast for even him to make sense of even with his supernatural abilities.
Around you, the cafe bustles with customers. Friends, families, lovers. People, like him, who are here all by themselves. Easy conversations, work calls, small bits of laughter, sound out from around him.
Even beyond the walls of the coffee shop, he can hear cars passing on the nearby street, birds fluttering between rooftops. The dull hum of a drill at a construction site he estimates to be around a mile away.
Jungwon has learned how to take it all in and let go of what he doesn’t need. The constant feed of noise isn’t as overwhelming as it once was. He can focus his hearing where he wants it and tune out the rest.
But even with sounds from all directions filling his ears, he thinks the heavy silence that’s settled at your table in the corner is most deafening of all.
You sigh, lips parting, shoulders slumping, just slightly. Jungwon’s gaze narrows in on the motion.
He’s not sure what he expects. Conversations of this nature still seem to surprise him. Sometimes they end in heartfelt declarations of love and even more often they end with a shouting match that escalates too far for public decency.
But when you finally break the silence, there’s no love on your lips or anger in your voice. All you do is, once again, sigh his name like you’re giving something up.
“Jake…”
But Jake is already shaking his head, scoffing as he drags an open palm down his face. He pushes his hair back from his forehead, like he expected this. Like he isn’t sure why he’s still trying, why he still hopes for anything but the same answer you give him every time. “You know what? It’s fine. Don’t say anything. I’ll let my mom try to set me up with her friend’s daughter again, and I’ll pretend not to recognize your name when you walk across the stage at graduation.”
Hurt, a wounded pride, both masked with sarcasm. Jungwon recognizes it well, hears the way it drips from every syllable and still sounds like defeat.
Maybe that’s the problem, he thinks, between the two of you. Jungwon is fairly certain that you had more to say. That you were going to admit whatever you’ve been holding close to the chest. But Jake wasn’t ready to let the silence simmer after you sighed his name. He wasn’t willing to wait for it. He wasn’t ready to hear the answer he was pushing for.
Humans always have such strange ways of hiding from the truth, Jungwon thinks. Disguising it, denying it, warping it to fit whatever conclusions they’ve already drawn. Whatever hopes they already hold.
Maybe, Jungwon thinks, you are in the wrong. A year together is significant, after all. Even Jungwon knows it, and he’s not exactly the best judge of time.
But he can also see things that Jake can’t. Can hear the way your heart races beneath your skin, the way your breath stutters every time you try to speak, the way words get lodged in your throat.
He’s seen it a hundred different times from a thousand different people, but something about it tugs at all the empathy he has left every time. The truth, it seems, is never an easy thing to get out.
Jungwon watches silently as Jake stands from the table, chair screeching across the hardwood floor with a noise that nearly makes him flinch. You do. Nose scrunching, brow furrowing as if the sound strikes somewhere deep. Hits you like all the accusations Jake won’t say out loud.
Your eyes fall to the table. You won’t, can't, look at him.
Above you, Jake’s heart is pounding too. Fingertips clench into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white. Then, he releases them, hands going slack. He shakes his head, dark hair rustling along his nape from the movement.
His teeth are clenched, like he wants to say something he knows he shouldn’t, something he won’t be able to take back.
A moment passes, and Jungwon hears him sigh instead. “Call me when you’re ready to talk,” he mutters, throwing the offer like it’s an old, crumpled receipt he found in a coat pocket.
Jungwon watches as Jake looks at you for a moment longer, waiting for you to meet his gaze. You never do. So, with one final shake of his head, he turns on his heel and exits the way he came, footsteps heavy against the hardwood floor.
After following for a brief second, Jungwon’s eyes turn back to you.
For a long moment, you sit motionless, eyes trained on the table beneath you. Your cup of coffee that’s just as untouched as his own, despite the differences between you.
Hand coming to your forehead, you lean into your palm, a long exhale escaping you as if you hadn’t realized you’d been holding it. Your eyes screw shut. So tightly that Jungwon thinks it must be painful.
A flicker of something—regret, he thinks it must be, furrows your brow.
Eyes opening again, you blink slowly. Your gaze lands on the empty chair where Jake had been sitting less than a minute ago. Lips parting, a breathy exhale falls out. Your brow begins to crumple, eyelashes fluttering as emotions play out across your features.
“Shit,” he hears you mutter, just under your breath. “Shit,” you repeat, glancing around now as you begin to panic, as the gravity of whatever has just come to pass sinks in fully.
This time, it’s you that stands from your chair. It scrapes across the floor in protest all the same, but now, you don’t wince. Eyes trained on the door, motions becoming frantic, the only thing you do is repeat the same panicked syllable. “Shit.”
And then you’re moving, practically running towards the door Jake disappeared out of moments ago. In your haste, you nearly knock straight into a kid waiting to order. The child, no more than nine, takes a half step back as his eyes widen in panic, a knee jerk reaction as you narrowly avoid colliding.
Pausing only for a moment, you hold your open palms in front of you in apology. “Sorry.” You’re breathless, eyes still flickering towards the door, like you’re half hoping Jake will manifest there again. Then, this time towards the adult standing just next to the child, their mother, Jungwon assumes, you repeat, “Sorry.”
Before either of them can respond, you’re moving again. Pushing through the door, ignoring the bell that chimes just above it on your exit.
In his seat, Jungwon frowns. He wonders for a moment what it’s like. To push someone away with such certainty only to chase them down moments later. To experience emotions, relationships, that make you do such fickle, unpredictable things.
There was was a time, centuries ago, when he remembers thinking that the carpenter’s daughter was rather pretty, that he liked the way she looked when she smiled. But he doesn’t think, even then, that he ever would have pushed her away just to pursue her. That he would have had so much panic, so much regret in his eyes when he did so.
He’s never felt anything that’s come close to that. And for the most part, he’s accepted that he never will. No matter what kinds of relationships he forges, he’s observed enough to understand that the ones worth pursuing require you to give up parts of yourself, too.
Vulnerability, trust, honesty. And those are things he cannot give to anyone. It doesn’t matter how much control he learns, how much restraint he practices. It doesn’t matter if he’s taught himself to make small talk with coworkers and chat about the weather with strangers.
He’ll always be tied to the things that make him different, that make him a monster. He’ll always have to go home to an empty apartment. And, when the urge becomes unbearable, he’ll always have to find himself at the end of another empty blood bag.
He’s an observer, a silent one. It’s better than complete isolation, but in moments like these, the full force of everything that’s been taken from him strikes him somewhere deep and lingers for longer than he’d care to admit.
Over the centuries, Jungwon has learned much. But he’s never quite learned how to stop wanting things. And sometimes, that greed, that deep-seated need to feel close to another person, eats at him like even bloodlust has never been able to.
It’s a cruel contradiction—that someone capable of so much violence could crave something so gentle. That the same man who has stolen lives hopes so desperately to experience the full spectrum of one himself.
No matter how many years pass, no matter how much space and time is put between what he once was and what he’s become, Jungwon has never quite been able to let it go.
And sometimes, more often than he’d care to admit, Jungwon just wants.
You’re lucky, he thinks, even though he just watched grief flash over your features, to have someone that makes you feel so much, so deeply. Someone to chase out of a coffee store in such haste that you leave your bag behind—
Your bag. The one with the university logo printed across the front. The one still hanging on the back of your now empty chair.
Jungwon isn’t sure why he does it. If someone asked, he wouldn’t be able to explain why he closes his laptop, tucking it away into his own bag. Why he stands from his chair, silently tucking it back beneath the table. Why he returns the porcelain mug to the counter, dumping the untouched liquid when he’s certain no one is looking.
But he does. And then, he crosses the cafe all the way to your empty table. For a moment, he hesitates. You’re gone, he’s sure. And it’s none of his business. You’ll probably remember, later once you’ve reconciled with Jake, that you left your bag at the coffee shop.
Humans are prone to forgetfulness, after all. It’s nothing out of the ordinary.
You’ll return together, smiling, hand-in-hand, ghost of an argument all but forgotten. Jake’s wounds will be water under the bridge, and his forgiveness won’t be something you have to work hard for.
You’ll be happy, smiling, maybe even in love when you ask the barista on closing shift if someone turned in a bag. You’ll describe the university logo on the front, and all will be well with the world again.
He could still do it. Jungwon could take your bag to the counter and leave it there for you to find.
But then, fingers sliding under the strap, he thinks of you. The furrow between your brows, the regret, the guilt, that spilled so openly across your features. The way you sighed like you have secrets, too.
And then he slides the bag up his shoulder and walks toward the door.
It’s a terrible plan, all things considered. Even with his heightened senses, Jungwon is still in the middle of a city of millions. You’ve probably hailed a cab by now or gotten onto the subway. Disappeared with a trace that would take him far too long to follow. Maybe you’re one of the wealthier students and you even have your own car.
Jungwon doesn’t know. He has no idea. That’s the point. This is ridiculous, and he could still choose to turn back around and leave your bag with the employees.
Just as he pushes through the door, quiet side street coming into view, he comes to his senses. He’s about to go back inside, to hand uour bag off. But as he turns, he realizes that maybe he doesn’t have to look as far for you as he thought.
You haven’t gotten into a cab or the subway or a car. You’ve hardly made it twenty steps. You’re sitting there, on the curb, knees pulled to your chest as pedestrians pass you by. You pay them no mind and they’re equally uninterested in the girl crouched at their feet.
But Jungwon’s eyes lock right on you. And they don’t leave. Tracing your side profile, he tries to put the pieces together. Your breath is more even now, calmer, like you’ve accepted something. Like the panic has subsided a bit, even if the guilt lingers.
Elbows bracketing your knees, eyes turned towards the pavement, you sigh.
Jungwon takes a tentative step forward. Then another. All the way until he stands, hovering just above your shoulder.
He’s recently fed, fully satiated. He has to be, to survive in a city as dense as this. But he can still hear your pulse, steady beneath your skin. His eyes zero in on where your hair has fallen over your shoulder, leaving the hollow of your throat exposed to his wandering gaze. He can still smell your blood.
Jungwon swallows.
Then, he tries, a bit too weakly, “Um.”
You don’t move. Drowned out by the sounds of the street, you don’t even hear him.
He tries again. “Excuse me.” His hand hovers over your shoulder, ready to tap if he still fails to catch your attention. But the action is unnecessary.
There’s surprise in your features when you turn halfway to face him, eyes squinting where he shadows only some of the sunlight above you. More than shock, there’s a strong flicker of annoyance in your eyes.
Your tone is short when you say, “I’m not interested.”
Jungwon’s brow furrows. “What?”
“Whatever you’re selling,” you enunciate flatly, “I’m not interested.”
“Oh.” Jungwon shakes his head. “I’m not—”
“Look, I’m really not in the mood, so can you just—”
Turning to face him fully, your words die on your lips as he slides your bag off of his shoulder, holding it out to you in an outstretched hand.
“Oh,” you breathe, earlier fire fading to a low simmer. Extinguishing completely.
A bit sheepish, your hands are tentative where you reach out to take your bag from him. And then, barely, so light that it’s hardly a touch at all, your finger brushes against his. Skin against skin.
Jungwon can’t remember the last time he felt that.
He exhales roughly, hair falling over his eyes where he looks down at you.
Something apologetic flickers through your gaze. “Sorry,” you tell him, still a bit embarrassed from your misjudgment. And then, “Thank you. I didn’t realize I’d left it behind.”
“You’re welcome,” Jungwon returns. He thinks it’s the right thing to say. Your gaze doesn’t shift, doesn’t narrow in suspicion or turn in confusion, so he must be right. “I’m glad you were still here.”
Your eyes turn back to the concrete beneath you, and even Jungwon can take the hint well enough. He’s a stranger, after all, good deed done or not. In your eyes, the exchange has been made. The conversation is done. He has no reason to keep talking to you, and you have no reason to keep looking at him.
Learned social skills aside, Jungwon doesn’t think you want him to ask you about the weather.
But still, he isn’t quite ready to let it go. To watch this moment fade into something he can only return to in memory. There’s something about your eyes, he thinks, something about the way emotions flicker through them so openly, so plainly, that fascinates him.
So, despite the way you’re no longer looking at him, he reaches into his own bag and pulls out a small, plastic card. As he did with your tote, he once again stretches his hand out towards you.
“Here,” is all he says.
Once more, you turn halfway to look at him. This time, your surprise is marred with distrust. Even though he’s just returned your bag, you’ve learned the same lessons as everyone else. Strangers that approach you on street corners are rarely good news. Your eyes make quick work of scanning his face, eyes narrow when they fall to his outstretched hand. You don’t take it.
Instead, you ask, “What’s that?”
“A gift card,” Jungwon explains. Nodding towards the door you both exited from earlier, he adds, “For the cafe.”
Your words are slow now, distrust laced through every syllable. “Why are you giving it to me?”
Jungwon’s mind scrambles for a moment, searching for an excuse. “I’m moving,” he tells you. A lie, but you don’t need to know that. Besides, it gives him something, too. A reason not to seek you out again, to contradict the alibi he’s just made for himself. “My coworker gave it to me a while ago—” not a lie. The new hire had asked when his birthday was, and Jungwon had told him the truth. Year, excluded, of course. And when the early February came to pass only weeks later, he’d been given his first birthday gift in nearly five hundred years. “—but I won’t be able to use it all before I leave.”
Your eyes, with all their distrust, are still his to read. You’re not going to take it, Jungwon thinks. Not yet.
So, after a few more steady pulses of your heartbeat, he adds, “You looked like you might be upset.” His words are quiet now, gentle. He doesn’t want to overstep, but he does want to erase that furrow between your brow. The slump in your shoulders. He wants to remember that he can do good things, kind things, too. “I thought this might make your day a little better.”
“Oh,” you breathe again, an echo of before. Only this time, your eyes aren’t so guarded. Instead, a flicker of surprise, of gratitude, flashes through them. Jungwon tilts his head, watching.Then, you reach one tentative hand up, gently pulling the gift from his grasp. “Thank you.”
Something in Jungwon lifts, surges, soars with your words. He can hear it in the way your breath becomes deeper again, reaches all the way to your diaphragm instead of heaving shallowly through your chest. You’re grateful.
Whatever wounds were opened earlier aren’t forgotten, but there’s at least a bit of sunshine there, too. Something to look back on and remember fondly when you return to this day in future memories.
Jungwon did that. He, with an ounce of kindness and a few white lies, thinks he may just have eased a fraction of your pain.
He doesn’t fully understand what he accidentally witnessed. He doesn’t know all the details of what passed between you and Jake. He has no idea if reconciliation is in your future, or if he just watched the beginning of an end.
But he’ll return to his empty apartment later with a bit less guilt drowning his consciousness and a tiny wedge of that terrible, aching want abated, at least for now.
Your eyes are still on him, and he thinks he could look into them forever. And for some unexplainable reason, moments later when the sun angles itself just right and lets him see his own reflection in your irises, he doesn’t hate it quite so much.
Then, he sees a flicker of hesitation pass through your gaze. Uncertainty that disappears with your next exhale. Lips parting, heartbeat hitching, only slightly, you ask, “What’s your name?”
And even though he knows he shouldn’t, even though he’s used a false alias with every other person who’s ever asked, he can’t quite bring himself to do it now. Not with your eyes, wide and glimmering, focused right on him.
AHHH thank you!! I’m glad you enjoyed the first part and all of vampire Jungwon’s backstory and their first meeting. I’m working on the second part now and have finished plotting out all the key beats for the entire story, and I think this one will be a real journey! I’m excited to share more soon and I hope you enjoy the way it all unfolds <3 😚
❝ When your friendly neighborhood spider-man is the guy who can't look you in the eyes for too long without blushing ❞ x gender neutral reader ⁽ᵗʰᵉʸ/ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ⁾
────
🢒 SYNOPSIS
When Spider-Man saves you from a traffic accident, there's something oddly familiar about the guy, something you can't quite place. Your ice skating club partner Sunghoon has been acting weird for months, but you never expected his secret to be this big. As you keep running into Spider-Man and getting closer to the truth, you're about to discover that some masks are harder to see through than others, especially when the boy behind the mask has been desperately in love with you all along, too terrified to confess and too protective to stay away. Because with great power comes great danger, and you've just become Seoul's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's biggest weakness.
𝓣he ice rink is empty at six in the morning, which is exactly why you love it.
Well, almost empty.
"You're leaning too far forward," Sunghoon's voice echoes across the rink, and you don't need to look to know he's gliding toward you with that effortless grace that made you both jealous and mesmerized when you first met. "Your weight distribution is off."
"Good morning to you too," you call back, but you adjust your posture anyway. After a year and a half of these early morning sessions, you've learned that Sunghoon's corrections, however blunt, are always right.
He comes to a stop beside you, and you catch the small smile tugging at his lips. "Morning. Better. Now try the sequence again."
You've been part of Seoul National University's ice skating club since freshman year, a decision made on a whim during club rush week. You'd expected a casual hobby, maybe some new friends. What you got was Park Sunghoon—figure skating prodigy, actual ice prince, and the most dedicated person you'd ever met—essentially adopting you as his personal project.
"I saw you almost eat it on that turn," you tease, pushing off into the routine.
"I was distracted."
"By what? Your own reflection?"
That earns you an actual laugh, the kind that crinkles his eyes and makes your stomach do a weird flip you've been determinedly ignoring since last semester. "Are you going to skate or are you going to talk?"
You stick your tongue out at him and launch into the sequence. Crossovers into a simple axel—you're not at Sunghoon's level and probably never will be, but you've gotten good enough that the club president asked if you wanted to perform in the winter showcase. The landing is a little shaky, but you manage to stay upright.
When you circle back, Sunghoon is watching you with an expression you can't quite read. Soft, maybe? Proud?
"What?"
He blinks, and the moment passes. "Nothing. That was good. Your arms need work, but the rotation was clean." He checks his phone, and something flickers across his face. Tension, maybe worry. "I have to head out soon. Early... appointment."
There it is again. That weird vagueness that's been plaguing him for months now.
You've noticed things lately. How could you not? Sunghoon, who used to stay for your entire practice session and then some, now leaves early at least twice a week with increasingly creative excuses. Last week it was a "dentist appointment" at seven in the morning. Before that, helping his roommate move furniture on a Wednesday at dawn.
And it's not just the leaving. He's been showing up with bruises—on his jaw, his arms, once a nasty one on his ribs you caught a glimpse of when he stretched and his shirt rode up. He always laughs them off. "Fell during practice." "Ran into a door." "You know me, clumsy."
Except Sunghoon is possibly the least clumsy person you've ever met. You've seen him land jumps that should be impossible. You've watched him catch falling objects without even looking. The other day, someone's phone slipped off the rink barrier, and he snatched it out of the air with reflexes that seemed almost superhuman.
"Another appointment?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light. "Sunghoon, if you've got a secret girlfriend or something, you can just tell me."
Something flashes in his eyes—hurt? panic?—before he schools his expression back to neutral. "No girlfriend. Secret or otherwise." He starts skating toward the exit, then pauses, glancing back. "Are you walking home after this?"
"Probably. Gonna practice for another hour."
"Text me when you get back?"
You raise an eyebrow. "Since when do you worry about my walk home?"
"Since always," he says quietly, and there's something in his voice that makes your heart skip. "Just... text me. Please?"
Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving you alone on the ice with more questions than answers.
✿.
Sunghoon makes it three blocks before he's ducking into an alley and pulling the suit from his backpack.
"Cutting it close," Jake's voice crackles through the newly upgraded comm system in his ear. "There's a robbery in progress in Gangnam. Convenience store on Teheran-ro."
"I know, I know." Sunghoon yanks the mask over his face, and the suit's interface flickers to life. Eight months. He's been doing this for eight months, and he still hasn't gotten used to the double life. The lying. "I was with—"
"Let me guess. Your 'friend' from ice skating?" Jake's tone is loaded with meaning that Sunghoon determinedly ignores.
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying, you've got it bad. Like, really bad. The longing looks? The excessive worrying? Dude, you asked me to track their phone last week—"
"For safety reasons!"
"Uh-huh." Sunghoon can practically hear Jake's smirk. "Sure. Very normal friend behavior. Hey, speaking of which, their route home from the rink passes through a pretty busy intersection. You know, if you wanted to coincidentally patrol that area—"
"Jake."
"I'm just your guy in the chair, man. I provide information. What you do with it is your business."
Sunghoon web-slings to the nearest building, and the familiar rush of adrenaline drowns out everything else. This, at least, he's good at. Being Spider-Man is easier than being Park Sunghoon, honor student and figure skater who's been pathetically in love with you since the moment you stumbled onto the ice during club rush week, all nervous energy and determined eyes.
He'd helped you up when you fell. You'd looked at him and said, "I'm definitely going to eat it like fifty more times, but I'm not quitting."
He'd been gone for you ever since.
The robbery takes fifteen minutes to handle. The convenience store owner thanks him profusely while Jake runs facial recognition on the perpetrators and alerts the police. It's routine now, almost easy.
"All clear," Sunghoon reports, perched on a rooftop overlooking the Han River. The morning sun is painting the water gold, and somewhere out there, you're still at the rink, practicing without him.
"Nice work, Spidey. Oh, hey—"
The tone shift in Jake's voice makes Sunghoon tense. "What?"
"Nothing urgent, just... you know how I monitor police scanners? There's been an uptick in muggings in the university area. Maybe mention to your 'friend' to be careful walking alone?"
Sunghoon's chest tightens. "How much of an uptick?"
"Relax, it's probably nothing. Just the usual city stuff. But you know, since you're so concerned about safety and all—"
"Send me the data."
"Already did. Seriously, though, you should just tell them how you feel. This pining thing is getting—"
"I'm not pining."
"You're absolutely pining. It's painful to watch. Even Heeseung noticed, and he's oblivious about everything."
Sunghoon thinks about this morning. The way you'd teased him, all easy smiles and casual affection. The way you have no idea that he shows up early specifically to skate with you, that he's rearranged his entire schedule around your practice times, that sometimes he patrols the route between your apartment and campus just to make sure you're safe.
"I can't tell them."
"Why not?"
Because if you knew how he felt, everything would change. Because your friendship is the one normal thing he has left, and he can't risk losing it. Because he's Spider-Man now, and everyone he cares about is a potential target.
Because he's terrified.
"Just drop it, Jake."
His friend sighs. "Fine. But for the record? They totally like you back."
"They don't."
"Do."
"Don't."
"Literally everyone can see it except you two. It's like watching a drama, but more frustrating because I can't skip to the confession scene."
Despite everything, Sunghoon smiles. "Don't you have class?"
"In an hour. Unlike you, I don't wake up at the crack of dawn to stare longingly at my crush—"
"I'm hanging up now."
"—while pretending it's about ice skating—"
"Goodbye, Jake."
He cuts the connection, but he's still smiling as he swings toward campus. He'll change, make it to his 9 AM lecture, and pretend that everything is normal. That he's just a regular student who's definitely not secretly Spider-Man and definitely not hopelessly in love with his skating partner.
Just another day.
✿.
By the time you finish practice, the rink is starting to fill up with the late morning crowd. You wave to a few other club members as you head to the lockers, your legs pleasantly sore from the workout.
Your phone buzzes with a text.
Sunghoon: Make sure you eat breakfast. You always forget after morning practice.
You can't help but smile. For all his recent weirdness, Sunghoon is still... Sunghoon. Thoughtful in ways he probably doesn't even realize, paying attention to small details that most people miss.
You: wow stalker much?
You: but yes mom ill eat
Sunghoon: I'm serious.
Sunghoon: And I'm not your mom.
You: couldve fooled me with all the nagging
You: im meeting heeseung and jay for lunch later anyway so ill be fed dont worry
There's a longer pause before his next text.
Sunghoon: Okay. Good.
Sunghoon: Be careful walking around campus. There's been some incidents lately.
You: incidents??
You: sunghoon ur being weird again
Sunghoon: Just be careful.
You stare at the messages, that familiar concern blooming in your chest again. He's definitely hiding something. The question is what.
Lunch with Heeseung and Jay is at the usual place—a cheap ramyeon spot near campus that's popular with students. You spot them at a corner table, already arguing about something.
"I'm telling you, Spider-Man is definitely a student here," Heeseung is saying as you approach. "Think about it. Most of his activity is in this area."
Jay rolls his eyes. "Seoul is huge. Just because he's active in Gangnam doesn't mean—oh, hey!" He spots you and waves. "Help me out here. Heeseung thinks Spider-Man goes to our school."
You slide into the booth. "Does it matter?"
"Yes!" Heeseung looks personally offended. "Dude, we could be sitting next to a literal superhero in class. That's insane. I have a list of suspects, actually—"
"Of course you do," Jay mutters.
"—and I'm pretty sure it's either that guy from the engineering department who's weirdly buff, or possibly—"
"It's not someone we know," you interrupt, laughing. "The chances of that are like, astronomical."
"But not zero!"
Jay shakes his head fondly. "How was practice? Sunghoon still being weird?"
"So weird," you confirm, gratefully accepting the menu. "He keeps leaving early and showing up with random bruises. And this morning he was all concerned about me walking home. Asked me to text him when I got back."
Heeseung and Jay exchange a look.
"What?" you demand.
"Nothing," they say in unison, which is never a good sign.
"Guys."
"It's just..." Heeseung leans forward, grinning. "You're really going to sit there and pretend you don't know why Sunghoon worries about you?"
"Because we're friends?"
Jay actually laughs. "Sure. Friends. That's definitely the reason he stares at you like you hung the moon whenever you're not looking."
Your face heats. "He does not—"
"He absolutely does," Heeseung confirms. "It's actually kind of painful. Like, the pining? Off the charts. I've never seen someone be so obvious and so oblivious at the same time."
"We're just friends," you insist, even as your heart does that stupid fluttering thing again. "And that doesn't explain why he's been acting so strange."
"Maybe he's trying to work up the courage to confess," Jay suggests, then laughs at your expression. "I'm serious! The weird behavior, the protectiveness, leaving early—maybe he's planning something."
"Or," Heeseung adds, "he's got some other secret he's worried about. Either way, there's definitely something going on."
You think about Sunghoon's face this morning. The careful way he'd watched you skate. The text messages telling you to be safe.
"Yeah," you say quietly. "There definitely is."
✿.
Sunghoon's organic chemistry lecture is a special kind of torture, and not because of the subject matter.
He's sitting three rows behind you. He can see the way you're doodling in the margins of your notes, the slight bounce of your leg that means you're either bored or thinking about something else. When you reach up to retie your hair, he has to physically force himself to look away.
"You're doing it again," Jake whispers from the seat beside him.
"Doing what?"
"The staring thing. It's creepy."
"I'm not—" Sunghoon cuts himself off as you glance back, and he quickly pretends to be very interested in his textbook. When he looks up again, you're smiling at him, and his heart does that stupid thing where it forgets how to beat properly.
He manages a small wave.
"Painful," Jake mutters. "Absolutely painful to witness."
After class, Sunghoon intends to catch up with you, maybe suggest studying together at the library. But his phone buzzes with an alert from the police scanner app Jake set up for him.
Jake: Armed robbery, two blocks from campus. You're up.
He curses under his breath.
"Hey!" You've appeared at his elbow, and Sunghoon nearly jumps. "You okay? You look stressed."
"I'm fine. Just—" His phone buzzes again. "I have to go. Sorry. Rain check on the library?"
That small furrow appears between your eyebrows, the one that means you're worried. "Sunghoon, seriously, if something's wrong—"
"Nothing's wrong." The lie tastes bitter. "I just forgot I have a... thing. For my lab partner. Group project."
"Right." You don't look convinced. "Okay. Text me later?"
"Yeah. Definitely."
He's already backing away, hating himself for the hurt that flickers across your face. Jake is waiting by the building exit, and together they duck into the nearest empty classroom.
"This is getting complicated," Jake says, standing guard while Sunghoon changes into the suit. "The lying to them specifically, I mean."
"I know."
"You could tell them. They'd understand—"
"No." Sunghoon pulls the mask on, and the interface lights up. "I can't put them at risk like that. It's bad enough that I—" He stops himself.
"That you what? Care about them? Dude, that's not exactly a secret. Except to them, apparently."
Sunghoon doesn't answer. He's already out the window, swinging toward the alert location, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
Being Spider-Man means protecting people. All people. But especially you.
Even if you never know it's him behind the mask.
✿.
You're heading home around seven that evening, the October sky already dark. Campus is quieter now, most students either at the library or already back in their dorms. You're mentally planning your evening—homework, maybe a call with your family, early bed so you can make morning practice—when your phone dies.
"Perfect," you mutter, stopping under a streetlight to dig through your bag for your portable charger. Which, of course, you forgot to pack this morning.
The walk home is only about fifteen minutes, straight shot down the main road and through a busy intersection. You've done it a hundred times. Nothing to worry about.
Except.
You can't shake the memory of Sunghoon's text. Be careful. There's been some incidents lately.
You pick up your pace slightly, keeping to the well-lit parts of the sidewalk. It's fine. You're being paranoid. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in Seoul, and there are still plenty of people around—
Your dropped your lip balm into the street.
It's stupid. It's a three dollar lip balm. But you didn't care, and without thinking, you step off the curb to grab it.
That's when you hear it. The screech of tires. The blaring horn.
You look up.
Headlights. Coming fast. Too fast.
Your brain screams at your legs to move, but you're frozen, deer in headlights literally, and there's no time, the car is going to hit you—
Something slams into you from the side.
Not the car. Something else. Someone else.
You're airborne for a heart-stopping second, then you're cradled against something solid, something that smells like fabric and faintly like rain, and then you're on the sidewalk, safe, shaking, alive.
"Are you okay?"
The voice is young. Male. Concerned.
You look up into the white-eyed mask of Spider-Man.
Seoul's Spider-Man is holding you. Has his arms around you, actually, one hand cradling the back of your head like you're something precious. Your face is pressed against his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat—racing, pounding, way too fast even for someone who just performed a rescue.
"I—" Your voice comes out shaky. "I'm okay. You—thank you. You saved my—"
"You can't just step into the street like that." There's something almost frantic in his voice. "You could have been killed. Do you understand? You—" He cuts himself off, and even through the mask, you can sense him trying to collect himself. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"
"No. No, I'm fine. Thanks to you."
You're still in his arms. He hasn't let go. If anything, his hold tightens slightly, like he's assuring himself you're really okay.
Slowly, carefully, he helps you stand. But even then, his hands hover near your shoulders, like he's ready to catch you if you fall.
"You should be more careful," he says, and there's something in his voice. Something familiar that you can't quite place. "Especially at night. This area... it's not always safe."
"I've walked this route a hundred times."
"I know."
You blink. "You... know?"
There's a pause, brief but noticeable. "I mean—I patrol this area often. I've probably seen you around. Lots of students use this route." He's rambling now, and somehow that makes him seem more human. Less superhero, more... person. "Just. Please be careful. Okay?"
"Okay," you say softly.
Behind you, the car that almost hit you has stopped. The driver is getting out, apologizing profusely, asking if you're alright. Spider-Man tenses.
"I should—I have to go. Please." He squeezes your shoulder once, gently. "Be safe."
And then he's gone, web slinging up to the nearest building and disappearing into the night.
You stand there for a long moment, shaking, the driver still talking at you. But you're not really listening.
You're thinking about the way Spider-Man held you. The desperate edge in his voice. The way he said I know like he really did know you, specifically.
And that feeling of familiarity that you can't shake.
Like you've been held like that before.
Like you know those hands.
✿.
Sunghoon makes it two blocks before he has to stop, perched on a rooftop, hands shaking so badly he can barely grip the edge of the building.
"Sunghoon?" Jake's voice in his ear is urgent. "Sunghoon, talk to me. What happened? Your vitals are all over the place—"
"They almost died." His voice doesn't sound like his own. "Jake, Y/N almost—right in front of me—"
"But they didn't. You saved them. Y/N's okay."
"I almost didn't make it in time." The image is burned into his brain. You, frozen in the street. The car, too close, too fast. The split second where he thought he might lose you. "I was on the other side of the block. If I'd been any further—"
"But you weren't. You were there. They're safe."
Sunghoon pulls off his mask, gasping for air that suddenly feels too thin. His hands are still shaking. He'd held you. Had you in his arms, alive and warm and scared, and it had taken every ounce of his control not to give himself away. Not to say your name, not to hold on too tight, not to let you hear how terrified he was.
"I told them I knew them," he says quietly. "I slipped. Almost said their name."
"Did they notice?"
"I don't know. Maybe. They looked..." He closes his eyes. "They looked at me like they were trying to figure something out."
"Sunghoon—"
"I have to tell them." The words surprise him, but once they're out, he knows they're true. "Not about Spider-Man. But about... how I feel. If something happened and I never told them—"
"Okay," Jake says gently. "Okay. But maybe not tonight? Give yourself a minute to breathe."
Sunghoon nods, even though Jake can't see him. His phone buzzes—his personal phone, not the one connected to the suit.
It's from you.
You: so i almost just got hit by a car
You: but spider-man saved me
You: which is tuff i guess
You: except now i cant stop shaking and my phone was dead so i couldnt call anyone and
You: can i call you?
His thumb hovers over the screen.
"Go," Jake says. "Be Park Sunghoon right now, not Spider-Man. They need their friend."
Sunghoon changes back into his regular clothes faster than he ever has, and calls you before he can overthink it.
You answer on the first ring.
"Hey." Your voice is small, shaky in a way that breaks his heart.
"Hey. Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Still on the street. The driver was really nice, kept apologizing. I'm fine, just..." A shaky breath. "It was really close, Hoon."
The nickname makes his chest ache. "I'm coming to get you. Don't move. Where exactly are you?"
You tell him, and he's already running, using every shortcut he knows. He makes it in under five minutes, which would be impressive if he wasn't still terrified.
When he spots you, sitting on a bench under a streetlight, still looking shaken, something in him breaks and reforms all at once.
"Hey," he says softly, and you look up.
Then you're standing, and he's pulling you into a hug before he can think better of it. You melt into him immediately, face pressed against his shoulder, hands clutching his jacket.
"I'm okay," you mumble. "Spider-Man caught me. I'm okay."
"I know. I know." He holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head. Just like he did ten minutes ago, when you didn't know it was him. "You're okay."
You stay like that for a long moment, and Sunghoon tries to memorize it. The way you fit against him. The trust in the way you lean into his hold.
When you finally pull back, you're looking at him with an odd expression.
"What?" he asks.
"Nothing. Just..." You shake your head. "Thanks for coming. I know it's late."
"You can always call me." He means it more than you could possibly know. "No matter what time. If you need me, I'm there."
The walk back to your apartment is quiet. Sunghoon keeps one hand on your back, guiding you around puddles and uneven pavement. At your door, you hesitate.
"Do you want to come up? I don't really want to be alone right now."
He should say no. He has an essay due tomorrow, and a physics problem set he hasn't started. But you're looking at him with those eyes, and he's never been able to say no to you.
"Yeah. Of course."
Your apartment is small but cozy, decorated with pictures and plants and string lights that make everything feel warm. Sunghoon has been here before, for study sessions and movie nights, but tonight it feels different. More intimate, somehow.
You make tea—chamomile, which you claim is calming but Sunghoon knows you just like the taste. He sits on your couch and tries not to think about how much he wants this to be his normal.
Coming home to you. Taking care of you. Being the person you call when you're scared.
"Here." You hand him a mug and curl up next to him, closer than usual. "Thanks again. For coming. For..." You gesture vaguely. "Everything."
"Always."
"You're quiet for a moment, sipping your tea. Then: "Can I tell you something weird?"
"Sure."
"When Spider-Man caught me... there was something familiar about him. Not like I know him, but..." You frown, trying to articulate it. "The way he held me. It reminded me of something. Someone."
Sunghoon's heart stops. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's stupid. Obviously I don't know Spider-Man. But for a second, when he was making sure I was okay, it felt like..." You trail off, shaking your head. "Never mind. Probably just the shock talking."
"Probably," Sunghoon manages.
You lean your head on his shoulder, and he freezes for a second before relaxing into it. This is okay. This is normal. Friends do this.
Except his heart is racing, and your hair smells like that vanilla shampoo you always use, and you're warm against his side, and nothing about this feels friendly.
"Hoon?"
"Yeah?"
"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right? If you were in trouble or something?"
The question catches him off-guard. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you've been weird lately. Distant. And I'm worried about you." You sit up to look at him properly. "I know something's going on. You don't have to tell me what, but... I want you to know that I'm here. Whatever it is."
He could tell you. Right now, right here, he could tell you everything. About the spider bite eight months ago, about the powers, about spending every night swinging through Seoul trying to keep people safe. About being terrified every second that someone he loves will get hurt because of him.
About how he's been in love with you since freshman year and doesn't know how to say it.
But looking at your open, trusting face, still shaky from almost dying tonight, he can't do it. Can't add another burden to your shoulders.
"I know," he says instead. "And I appreciate it. I'm okay, I promise. Just... stressed with school."
You don't look entirely convinced, but you let it drop. "Okay. But the offer stands."
"Same to you. You scared me tonight. When you texted..." He has to look away. "Just promise me you'll be more careful. Please."
"I promise."
You settle back against him, and this time Sunghoon lets himself enjoy it. Lets himself pretend, just for a moment, that this is something more than friendship. That he has the right to hold you like this, to want to protect you like this.
Your breathing evens out after a while, and Sunghoon realizes you've fallen asleep. He should probably wake you, make sure you get to bed properly. But he can't bring himself to move.
His phone buzzes quietly. A text from Jake.
Jake: You good?
Sunghoon: Yeah. I'm with Y/N.
Jake: Still think you should tell them. Both things.
Sunghoon: I know.
But not tonight. Tonight, you're safe in his arms, and that's enough.
For now, that has to be enough.
When you wake up the next morning, you're in your bed with no memory of getting there. There's a glass of water on your nightstand, your phone plugged in and charging, and a note in Sunghoon's handwriting.
Didn't want to wake you. Make sure you eat breakfast. See you at practice? - SH
You smile despite yourself, then wince as the memories of last night come flooding back. The car. Spider-Man. The weird sense of familiarity you still can't shake.
Your phone has several texts.
Sunghoon: [sent at 11:47 PM] You fell asleep. I'm heading out. Lock your door.
Sunghoon: [sent at 11:48 PM] And seriously, be careful today. Please.
Jake: [sent at 8:23 AM] heard about last night!! you okay??
Heeseung: [sent at 8:30 AM] JAY JUST TOLD ME YOU ALMOST GOT HIT BY A CAR????
Heeseung: WHY DIDNT YOU TEXT THE GROUP CHAT
Jay: [sent at 8:31 AM] Ignore Heeseung. But seriously, you good?
You send a quick message to the group chat assuring everyone you're fine, then stare at Sunghoon's texts.
That worry again. That intense concern that feels like more than friendship but you're too scared to examine too closely.
The way he'd held you last night. Steady and sure and safe.
The way Spider-Man had held you. Desperate and terrified and...
Familiar.
You shake your head. You're being ridiculous. Sunghoon can't be Spider-Man. That's insane. He's a figure skater with a perfect GPA who's never even been in a fight. He's not a superhero.
Right?
...Right?
But as you get ready for morning practice, you can't quite shake the feeling that you're missing something obvious.
Something important.
Something about the way Park Sunghoon looks at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.
“Okay, fuck, marry or kill between Thor, Iron man and… Captain America, who do you choose?” You laugh hearing your friend’s nonsense. Not even a couple of drinks in and everyone is already tipsy enough to make stupid questions like that. Still, Yunah seems so proud of starting this game that you cant really blame her.
“Oh damn, that’s hard.” Yunjin says, taking a couple of minutes to think about the answer. You like night like this, Heeseung’s small apartment is perfect for your group’s gatherings, there’s not many of you anyway, and you enjoy the company of your friends and the slight bitter taste of alcohol while you play.
“I guess i’d kill Iron man, fuck thor and marry cap?” Yunjin’s answer makes both Jay and Jake stand up. “oh hell no, team iron man forever.” You laugh again, and rest your back against the window, drink in your hands. There’s something so comforting about these little things that you cant help but be happy even hearing them get into stupid arguments like that. “Whatever! Whatever, Y/n, what do you think?”
You raise your eyebrows, not expecting to be the next one. You raise your eyes to the ceiling, trying your best to think about the options and the words to say to not let anyone jump at you. “Well, i guess i’d marry Thor? Fuck Iron man and kill Captain America.” “Wow. You’re a disappointment, just as i thought.” You roll your eyes jokingly before taking another sip out of your drink, a smirk on your lips while once again everyone starts to argue about team cap or team iron man.
You dont join in on that, Jake is loud enough to compensate for it, and to be completely honest, the alcohol does makes you too dizzy to keep up. You look around, mostly paying attention to the beanbag where Yunah is sitting on, since you want to steal that so damn bad. Yunjin, Jay and Jake are all standing up, hands moving and their voices getting higher each time someone says something even more stupid. Heeseung should be in the kitchen with Jungwon, probably making more drinks, even if you all already had way too many.
Speaking of which, you notice Jungwon coming in the living room, a little smile on his lips as he hears the conversation, a tray full of snacks and drinks in his hand. He puts it down on the coffee table and your eyes meet for a single second, you smile at him, as if thanking him for the snacks. “What about spiderman?” He asks the group, and everyone is silent at that, all the attention towards the blonde boy.
You barely register what he says, too focused on looking at him and admiring him to really pay attention. How long have you had a crush on him? Technically, its only been a couple of years, but because of the blip you do really feel like he’s had you in a chokehold for centuries. And ever since he dyed his hair blonde you cant really stop looking at him, he looks ethereal, he looks like a doll, and from this side you can clearly see the perfect outline of his nose and-
“Y/n? Earth calls y/n are you here?” You blink a couple of times, your ears probably becoming red at the realization that everyone in the room saw you staring at Jungwon so much you couldn’t even hear what they said. “Yes? What? I’m sorry I- Yeah, you were saying?” This is embarrassing, but its not like its the first time this happens either. “We were talking about spiderman, and you’re the only one who saw him, so what do you think of him?”
You furrow your brows, trying to recall the last time you saw the hero they’re talking about. Its not like you talked to him, but if it wasnt for spiderman, a whole house would’ve collapsed on you and you surely wouldn’t be here to tell this story again. Its been a couple of months since that accident, and you can only remember the feeling of his broad shoulders covering you and that familiar scent that you still haven’t been able to connect to something. “He’s… cool i guess? I’d still choose Thor over him though.”
Jungwon laughs at your words and looks at your way before sitting on the couch, and thats enough to make your heart flutter again. You try to not look too long, not wanting to repeat that embarrassing moment just a second ago, but your chest really is about to explode. “I guess its hard to beat a god, uh?” You shrug your shoulders, to be completely fair, you’re not a fan of heroes as much as your friends are so all of this talk to you is just boring talk.
Later into the night you’re sitting on Heeseung’s bed, your back on the headboard. The apartment isnt too big, he does indeed have his bed in the living room, but to you that’s what makes it cozy. Jay is sleeping on the beanbag, Jake and Heeseung are playing some kind of game you dont know meanwhile Yunah and Yunjin left not too long ago, the only reason you’re still here is because Jay is supposed to be your ride home, but you dont know how possible that’s going to be now.
Jungwon notices you and sits next to you with his usual smile, a little too close. Your shoulders brush, making you stiffen for a second. You have to remind yourself that Jungwon and you have been friends long before you developed this absurd crush on him, he’s easy to talk to, there’s no reason to get so nervous around him, and so you relax, just a little. “So… you dont like spiderman?” You giggle at that, lately Jungwon has been obsessed with that guy, he keeps bringing him up, as if he knows him personally.
“That’s not what I said.” You turn your head just to look at him, regretting it almost immediately. He’s really close and you didn’t even realize how you’re basically whispering, as if the other three can even hear you. “Yeah but you still choose Thor! Isnt he like… a thousand years old?” You look at him with your eyebrows raised, you can smell the littlest tint of alcohol in him, he doesn't look drunk, but he’s definitely tipsy enough to continue this conversation.
“Jungwon, if I didn’t know you, I would think you either have a crush on spiderman or you’re trying to set me up with him.” He laughs at your words, and you can't help but smile even more, your heart fluttering looking at his face, the way dimples show up on his cheeks and his chuckles are so crystal clear in your head. “Eh, maybe you just don't know me enough.” You grimace at that, your nose scrunching up, making him smile again.
To be completely honest, it does feel like that sometimes. You and Jungwon have been friends for a while, but lately… He’s been acting weird, as if something happened to him that transformed him into a completely different person, or maybe he just has more secrets than you think. You look at Jay, still soundly sleeping on the beanbag. Its so late into the night, and you do have a couple of projects to work on tomorrow, so you better walk back home if you want to be productive.
You get up and start picking your things up; Jungwon furrows his brows at that, before putting two and two together and realizing that you’re going home. “Hey. Isnt Jay your ride home?” You shrug, you really dont have time to wait for him to wake and sober up. “I dont live too far, i’ll just walk back home.” “I’ll go with you.” You raise your head at that, your heart beating so hard it might explode any minute. Did Yang Jungwon just offer to walk you home?
“There’s really no need to-“ But before you can even finish your sentence, Jungwon is putting his coat on and your cheeks become red, this is really happening. “Its three in the morning; i’m not letting you go alone.” You have to bite your inner cheeks to not smile too hard. You just nod at him and then finally get ready to go, you say bye to Heeseung and Jake before walking out.
You totally get why Jungwon is so well liked; he’s kind, funny, caring, and so handsome. It’d be weird not to. He walks on your right, as if to keep you protected from the few cars strolling around at this hour, and he’s so close to you that your shoulders and hands keep brushing against each other’s. It's cold outside, being January, and what you’re wearing isn't doing much to help you, but he’s already doing a lot, so you can't find it in yourself to ask him for his jacket.
Your house isnt too far, you had simply asked Jay because you know better than walk back home alone and drunk at night, and you’re glad Jungwon thinks the same as you. “I’m glad you’re back.” You say, getting surprised at your own words. Jungwon had been away for that Stark project for geniuses or whatever that was, and you could totally feel his absence. “I wasnt gone for long, though.”
You giggle quietly, definitely embarrassed now. “Guess i just like having you around then.” He looks at you as he smiles. Yunah and Yunjin have been telling you for weeks, they think that Jungwon might reciprocate your crush, but you’re not too sure about it. Him staying for so long during hangouts is a rare occasion, usually he finds some excuse to leave early or he just doesnt show up at all.
You reach your house and stop right in front of your door, Jungwon looks at you while you search for your keys inside your bag. You giggle when you find them, embarrassed by how long that took and, before opening the entrance, you look at him again, a gulp in your throat. You hesitate, your fingers tightening around the key in your hand. Should you just ask him to come in? Would that be too bold or… you know what, fuck it.
“Do you… want to come in? Its late and you live pretty far..” You bite your lips, hoping that doesnt sound too straightforward. Does it sound like you’re begging him to stay? Jungwon eyes seem to light up for a second, he’s about to speak when he suddenly stops, as if distracted by something. He looks at you again, this time he seems guilty. “I- I’d love that Y/n but i really have to go now..”
Your mouth opens to form a little ‘o,’ but you try to hide the disappointment with a smile on your face, you nervously put a strand of hair behind your ear, and the more you look at him the more he looks like he’s in a rush. Oh, he must really hate your idea. “Yeah! No, of course, sure! You must have a lot of things to do at 3 AM." You want to slap yourself at your own words. He gets closer to you and for a second you think he’s about to kiss you or hug you, but instead he just opens the door for you. “Go inside, its getting cold.”
As if the disappointment and embarrassment from last night wasnt enough, its like luck wasnt on your side either. You just wanted to hide and never look at Jungwon in the face ever again after yesterday, but of course the universe had another plan. You look down as the professor tells you that you have to find a tutor for maths and physics if you want to pass his exam. “Honestly, Y/n. This exam is really important for your career, i can help you find a good tutor like…” The professor looks behind you and points his finger towards a student, and you dont really have the courage to look back and see who it is.
“Oh! perfect timing. Come here, Jungwon!” Your eyes widen when you hear that name and you turn to look at the guy. Jungwon walks towards you and the professor with a gentle smile on his face, his hair is a bit of a mess and you notice he’s not wearing his backpack. You furrow your brows, he looks like he just finished a marathon. “Jungwon is the best of the class, i’m sure he can help you, right?”
Jungwon looks confused now, the professor gets next to him and pats his back, you honestly just want to hide, he doesnt look too happy with the idea of being your tutor and you just hope that the reason is not because of you trying to flirt with him last night. Before he can say no, you jump into the discussion. “I- I’m sure Jungwon is busy with that Stark stuff, i can find someone else its really not a big deal.”
“No! No i can do it! I can be your tutor, yeah..” This is awkward, definitely more than you could’ve imagined. You and Jungwon just look at each other and the tension in the room is so dense that you could probably cut it with a knife. The professor laughs and pats both your and Jungwon’s back lightly. “Sure, you figure it out! Just make sure you’re ready for the exam, Y/n.” And that said he takes his stuff and says bye, leaving the both of you alone in the class.
“You dont have to do it..” You say, after a couple of seconds of silence. You’re putting your things back in your bag, trying really hard to not just look too much at him, fearing of the reaction your heart might get from that. “No, no, i really want to. And honestly, there’s not really anyone better than me so..” He chuckles at his own words, but you just crack a little smile, closing your bag before looking back at him. “Let’s do at five today? in the library.”
You’re pleasantly surprised by his willingness to actually help you. You nod at his words, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, your bag on your shoulder. “Sure. Thank you, Jungwon.” He takes a couple more seconds to just look at you, and you start to feel almost self conscious at that. Maybe you got something in your hair? Something stuck on your teeth? Or even worse maybe you just smell bad and the perfume you’re wearing didn’t cover it up, or-
Before you can keep on overthinking about your appearance, Jungwon just ruffles your hair, a smile on his face as he does that and right now you can only hope and pray that your cheeks are staying a normal color, because you definitely feel hot as hell right now. “See you later, Pretty.” Pretty. He called you pretty. Wait, did he really just do that? You don’t even have the time to realize what just happened that he’s gone. Leaving you alone and on fire in this cold class.
You spend the rest of the day just waiting, and waiting, and waiting for five to come, you even got back home just to change into some cuter clothes. You dont want to make it look like you’re doing too much, its Jungwon after all, it would be weird. So a pair of wide leg jeans and a black top is cute enough. You arrive at the library five minutes early, just to make sure you can get a nice spot and take your things out before he arrives. But he doesn’t.
You know Jungwon, he does have a problem with timing, so you wait. The first fifteen minutes you dont think much of it, he’s always late after all. Then half an hour passes and you actually start to get angry, its already dark outside and you dont intend to wait for him all evening. But you do that anyway.
The initial anger transforms into worry when you overhear a couple of girls talking about how Spiderman was just seen fighting a bunch of criminals off, maybe he got involved in the fight? But thats really not something Jungwon would do. After an hour and a half of waiting you actually feel sad. He either forgot or didn’t care at this point. He didnt reply to your worried texts, nor did he call to tell you he was busy with something else.
You couldnt even concentrate on the physics book, too worried and sad to really be thinking about whatever is written there. Two hours pass, and the library is about to close so you just pack your things back and decide to walk back home, headphones in, and really, the last thing you want right now is sabrina carpenter in your ears singing about getting dicked down, but thats all your spotify wants you to listen apparently.
As if your day couldnt get worse, it starts raining, and the only thing covering you is the hood of the jacket you’re wearing, of course you left your umbrella home, you were so busy thinking about getting cute for Jungwon that you didnt even think about the important stuff. You sniffle with your nose at the thought of it, not really wanting to cry about something so stupid, but at the same time your throat is starting to hurt, and its already raining, so you might as well.
You’re close to your house when suddenly you cant feel the rain anymore, and for a second you actually think it stopped raining, but when you look up you only find an umbrella over your head. Your eyes widen in surprise, and when you turn to see who is holding it, you dont know if you want to keep crying or run as fast as you can.
Jungwon is now behind you, holding the umbrella for you while getting drenched under the rain himself. You dont know what to say, or how to react. All you know is that you feel sad and disappointed and so, so angry at him for wasting your time and making you believe that he actually cared for you enough to help for the exam.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry i swear i didn’t forget i just- i got a call from Stark for that project and I-“ Your brows are furrowed in annoyance, your head shaking and saying no as he keeps on talking and saying excuses. You’re not one to get mad easily, you’re usually pretty chill, and rarely things get under your skin, but right now you really want to just smash his head somewhere. “You could’ve called. Or replied to my dms.”
He’s panting, he must’ve run a lot, and he keeps getting wetter and wetter. Part of you wants to invite him in and give him something to dry his hair out, but you mostly want to take a bit of revenge in a way, and if its by giving him a common cold, then so be it. “We.. we cant keep our phones there, for privacy reasons- Mr. Stark doesn’t-“ “I dont give a fuck about Stark and your fuckass project!”
You manage to surprise yourself by shouting at him that way, you’re just so pissed off. It would’ve been better for the both of you if he hadn’t shown up, at least you would’ve cried yourself to sleep only to act like nothing happened, but seeing him, hearing his excuses that you’ve heard already thousands of times, whenever he missed the group hang outs or class. But this time its different.
“I told the professor you were busy, but you insisted to be my tutor anyway. This exam is so important to me but you just cant understand! Jungwon, not everyone is a damn genius like you, not everyone has fucking Tony Stark making projects and shit for him, i needed help today but you decided to just waste my time.”
Jungwon remains still, looking at you in shock, he’s never seen you this angry, he didnt even know it was possible for you to crash out this way. Suddenly his throat is dry and he doesnt know what to say, meanwhile you are fighting your own tears from falling. You feel guilty, in a way, you dont like getting mad and you definitely dont like the fact that it was Jungwon the one to see you this way. You hate it, how you cant still be fully mad at him because of how much you like him, his big dark eyes looking at you as if you just broke his heart. You take a deep breath in, and right now you dont know if you’re shaking because of the cold, your drenched clothes or from anger.
“I’m sorry.” He doesnt say anything else, and you actually wait for him to add another sentence, maybe you expect another excuse, but no. He just looks at you like a sad little kitten, and that only angers you even more. You shake your head no one last time before turning away from him and walking towards your house. You dont look back, because you know that if you did you would melt, you’d ask him to come inside and you’d say sorry to him for crashing out. And right now this is not what you need.
A couple of days later, you decided to stay in an empty classroom just so you could be able to study without having to worry about getting distracted. You’ve been ignoring Jungwon, but its not that hard when he is barely available anyway. He wasnt with your friends last night, and you havent seen him in class or anywhere else really. Last time you saw him, two days ago, you just turned on your heels and ignored him, but that was it.
You sigh, hating having to do this, the exam will be in two weeks and you still cant bring yourself to understand any of these things. You’re about to give up and smash your head on the table when the sound of notebooks falling on the chair next to you suddenly startles you.
“You were right, i acted on impulse and i’m sorry.” Jungwon is standing in front of you, he looks like he hadn’t slept well, dark circles under his gorgeous eyes that you love so much.
You dont say anything, too confused to actually react in a normal way. He’s making your heart beat so fast and the butterflies in your stomach are going crazy. “I made notes for you. I tried to keep it simple and add schemes, it took me a while, but i really wanted to help you.” Your lips press into a pout, now you really feel awful for how you treated him, this is why you like him so much. No matter how others treat him he’s always kind and gentle and god, you really fucked up, uh.
“I’m sorry for crashing out the other day.” “I deserved it.” “That’s not the point.” You sigh for what seems the ninth time today and you get up. He’s still taller than you, but what really makes you feel much smaller are his shoulders, his body is so fit and broad for him to have the face of an angel. There’s a few minutes of silence, it seems like you two always end up not saying anything for a while, just looking at each other and waiting for the other to speak. This time you decide to break it.
“I’ll offer you dinner, or coffee or a drink? if i actually pass the exam.” Jungwon’s smile gets even bigger, he likes how bold you’ve been lately, first asking him if he wanted to stay at your house, now this. If only he wasnt so busy being a damn hero, he would’ve asked you out a long time ago. “Let’s go see a movie instead, like a date.” You have to blink a couple of times to understand that, is he really asking you on a date? You look at him as if he’s talking nonsense, your lips parted in shock and you fear you might faint from how fast your heart is beating. He chuckles at your reaction. “You better pass that exam now.”
You’ve never studied so hard in your entire life. The two weeks passed so slowly, you basically closed yourself inside your house, or the library, or in the classroom, doing everything you could do to pass that exam. And so, when the day of the test finally arrives, you’re sure you can do it with your eyes closed. Well, kind of. You still dont get the highest grade, because you would’ve needed either a miracle or some sort of dark magic for that, but you still pass it.
You get out of the class, a huge smile on your lips while you walk towards the dining hall, where all your friends are waiting for you. “Oh my god i almost forgot your face!” Says Yunjin, pinching your cheeks when you sit between her and Jungwon. “Did you even eat these past weeks?” “You honestly got us worried.” “Oh my god, you guys. I was just studying its not like a supervillain kidnapped me or something.” Jungwon grimaces at your words. “Ugh, dont jinx it.”
A chuckle escapes your lips as you roll your eyes before digging in your food. Jay and Yunah are now arguing about which supervillain the world has seen would be able to kidnap you, meanwhile Jungwon is shaking his head no, trying to stop them from fantasizing about it. “I wouldn’t mind Loki i guess,” “Ew. Ew, ew, ew, ugly.” Yunjin’s reaction makes the whole table laugh.
“I’ve never met Loki..” Jungwon says, almost to himself, the others probably didnt even hear him, but you turn to look at him with a confused expression, your brows furrowed. “Well, duh. We were too young when the avengers stopped him.” The blondie just looks at you back, almost embarrassed about that sentence falling off his mind and coming out from his mouth. “Yeah… yeah i meant like, uh, yeah we were too young..” He’s acting weird, but you let that go, after all Jungwon does seem like a huge superhero nerd.
The week goes on and finally, finally, its time for your date with Jungwon. If it can even be called a date. Well, he called it a date so you assume it actually is one. Still, he did call you this time telling you he was going to be five minutes late, so you take your time walking towards the cinema.
Its been raining a lot these past few days, but you’re prepared, the white umbrella tight in your hands.
You’re just going to see a movie, but you still thought about dressing up nicely. The white dress you’re wearing might be a bit too springy, but you dont mind that. And you do have a pretty coat over it, so its fine. Your boots are perfect for the weather, and so are the thighs under them, and most importantly you feel cute.
Just as Jungwon said, he reaches you five minutes later, his breathing ragged as if he just ran. His hands behind his back but you can clearly see the flowers he’s trying to hide. He looks embarrassed, but the smile on your face makes him feel much more at ease. “I- Lets say it wasnt a good idea to get them and then run under the rain.” He says, handing them to you.
You laugh, the flowers must’ve looked pretty before he put his hands on them. They’re drenched and some of them are even missing a couple of petals, you couldnt care less about it though. He got you flowers. Yang Jungwon, the guy you’ve had a crush on for two years got you flowers, and you couldnt be happier.
“You’re always running somewhere.” You chuckle.
He links arms with you, walking towards the ticket booth. You dont even know what film you’re watching, knowing him its probably some sci-fi movie or a really old one that he always references but you dont know. “I mean, running is healthy.” “As long as you dont run away from me..” He keeps silent at your words, looking at you deeply, his eyes scanning your body and face, he always does that. “I’ll try.”
That answer leaves you in a chaos of emotions. He will try? What does that even mean? Your face must be telling that, or maybe its the way your body stiffened up. He opens his mouth to say something else, probably trying to save what he just did, but you dont even hear him. A loud noise echoes outside the cinema and you find yourself catching Jungwon’s hands out of fear.
He suddenly looks serious, his hand on your back, his brows furrowed in what seems anger and annoyance, that’s not a normal reaction if someone were to ask you. He looks around, meanwhile the other people around you are already screaming and running out of the theater, and you’re starting to get anxious too. “Jungwon we have to-“ “Take the emergency door on the left, i’ll catch up to you later.”
He lets you go, but you’re only getting more and more confused. He’s not coming with you? You shake your head no, in disbelief. You’re not leaving him here out in danger, what is he, some kind of superhero? “What? Are you out of your mind? Jungwon let’s just go..” You grab his arm and he closes his eyes for a second, getting out a deep sigh before he cups your cheeks.
“I swear, i’ll explain everything to you, but you have to go now. Just trust me and get out from that door only.” He’s not a superhero. You keep repeating yourself that, like a mantra, he cant be. He’s Jungwon, you would know if he was, he wouldnt be able to shut up about it, he’s like a twenty year old Tony Stark, there’s no way he is. But then you feel the way he’s holding you, his broad shoulders protecting you and his big hands on your face, its so familiar. And the look in his eyes is telling everything you need to know.
So you nod, hesitantly, but you do as he says. You can only hope he’s not actually who you think he is, your hands stop gripping his wrists so tightly and he gives you a gentle and reassuring smile before leaving a kiss on your cheek. “Go home, and dont take the metro. I’ll be right back.” You nod again and then you go, with your heart thumping against your chest, your head filled with dots connecting each other, and you dont know what to think.
You reach home safely, only because you did as Jungwon told you. You didnt take the metro, which happened to be involved in the fight, and you wonder how the hell did he know that would’ve happened. You sit on your bed, checking every news site, refreshing the spiderman tag on twitter every couple of seconds. You’re not 100% sure about it, maybe you’re just traumatized and insane, maybe a man protecting you reminds you of spiderman and this is just you projecting, but you cant ignore the signs.
That time at the library, he didn’t come and spiderman was fighting off somewhere at the same time, or all those times he left early or didnt come at all, all those excuses and that Stark project, is that even real? It makes sense, it makes too much sense and you feel like you will be going crazy until he comes back like he promised you.
You’re about to go downstairs and make a chamomile or something that could help you not go insane when you hear a tap on your balcony window. Jungwon is there and you waste no time opening the slide in door for him, you want to ask him a thousand questions but he just puts his finger over his lips, telling you to be quiet.
You dont know why he’s doing that, but you accomplish and close the window door behind him. You were so distracted waiting for him that you didnt even turn on the lights, and its so dark outside so you had barely noticed the mask in his hand. That mask. You take a better look at him and you feel so stupid when you notice what he’s wearing.
You dont know if you’re even surprised at this point, nor how you find the force to close the curtains and turn on one of the little lights in your room. He slides down the wall, he looks tired, and hurt, but he’s still looking at you with that same cocky vibe he always has. “You don’t look surprised.”
“I had a lot to think about walking home.” He smiles even more, and you kneel down next to him, your hand going to his hair without even thinking to much about it, you move them away from his forehead, and you just now notice a few small cuts on his face. “Is this a deal breaker for you?” He chuckles softly, his breath catching, even he knows how ridiculous he sounds right now, but you’re too mad to joke around with him.
“The deal breaker was you vanishing for weeks, lying to our friends, lying to me, finding useless excuses, asking me out on a date and then letting me run off of my own, leaving me alone at the library for hours and-“ You notice the way he’s looking at you, each word you say making him feel even worse, his already huge eyes looking even bigger.
“And… it doesnt even matter, because i like you so much i cant get mad at you.” It should feel good, telling him that you like him, it should feel like letting go of a weight off your shoulders, but it doesnt. Your heart feels heavy, you dont know how to feel, you’re worried sick and you dont know how you’re going to handle knowing that he is, indeed, spiderman.
You let your head fall on his shoulder while he hugs you almost immediately. You can hear the way his heart is beating, he doesn’t like seeing you like this and he hates being the cause of it, so he tries to soothe you down, hands caressing your back and playing with your hair.
“I like you a lot, too. And if this too much for you i’ll- I dont know, i’ll ask that damn doctor magician to erase it from your memory or something, just- I’m sorry.” You shake your head no while hiding in his chest, you dont want to forget this, he trusted you enough to know, and you respect that. “Who else knows?” “Jay and well, Mr. Stark and well yeah, everyone of that category.”
You just nod, you really cant believe this. Jungwon and Jay keeping a secret of this sort, you really thought Jungwon was the kind of guy to tell anyone if he were to be a hero, but apparently you know way less about him than you expected. You raise your head to look at him. He looks pretty hot like this, his lips are red, probably from fighting, his hair is a mess and that’s partly your faul, and wow. The suit fits him so well. His broad shoulders, his toned chest and his biceps look even better with it on.
“You’re staring.” He says, his fingers going under your chin to make you look at his face, which doesnt help your wondering thoughts, since he’s just that handsome. “You always stare at me, too.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re pretty.” You crack a smile at that, its not the first time he calls you pretty, but it always gives you butterflies. Before you even realize, he puts his arms on your waist and makes you sit on his lap. Well, now you know where all his strength comes from.
“I wasnt expecting our first date to end up like this.” He moves to be closer to you, his nose nuzzling with yours, his voice getting lower, your hands rest on his chest. “What were you expecting?” That question seems to get a reaction out of him, his brow raising, a smirk on his face. “Well, you would’ve hated the movie i choose anyway. At that would’ve led you to be bored, and to us making out.” You giggle at that, you dont know if that would’ve actually happened, but the thought is nice.
“You think you can make my dream come true, Pretty?” Maybe its the suit that is making him act even more cocky than he usually is, or maybe you’re just too turned on by it to think about anything else. Your eyes scan him one last time, your hands moving behind his neck, your lips brushing against each other. “I’ll try.” And that said, your lips finally crash into his. For years you imagined how it would feel to kiss him, and this is so much better than any of that.
Jungwon is confident in his moves, his lips move with ease against yours, his hands keep you still on his lap, his tongue gently asking for permission by licking your bottom lip. You let him, not know that its going to be the end for you. He tilts his head, enough to go deeper while you just let him take the lead. You feel like you’re in heaven his lips are soft yet his kissing gets rougher as time passes, soon enough the room is filled with the sounds of your breathing, your lips meeting and tongues clicking. He doesnt seem to be wanting to let you go, you still pull out after a while, feeling out of breath.
He leans in for more but you stop him with a gentle peck, a giggle escaping from you. “Calm down, Spidey. Not everyone has super lungs.” “I dont, either.” He laughs and pushes your hair our of your face and puts them behind your ears. “You’re really okay with this? Even if I’m spiderman?” You can hear the insecurity in his voice, and honestly, it really is a big deal. He’s a superhero, he gets in trouble, people want him dead and knowing it might affect your daily life too. But right now you dont care.
“First of all, you’re Jungwon. We’ll figure out the spiderman stuff together. But yes, i am sure about Jungwon, a hundred percent.” He nods, a smile on his lips before he kisses you again, and again, and again. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.” He whispers between kisses, next thing you know he picks you up before throwing you on the bed, you giggle again, your body open to him.
You look at him and he just looks so perfect to you. You can’t believe this is happening, Jungwon is on top of you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings between your lips. He pulls out for a few seconds to look back at you, a smirk on your lips as you bite his ear before whispering.
genre. yearning, right person wrong time, slightly suggestive
word count. 2.4k
author's note. different writing style. i had fun writing this
masterlist
any feedback is appreciated ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ<)
The Waldorf Astoria.
A fancy-schmancy name for a fancy-schmancy place smack dab in the centre of fancy-schmancy Manhattan. Who was Waldorf? Who was Astoria? Who decided it was a good idea to hang lavender scented sachets in every corner of the building and make the place smell like the soap aisle of a TJMaxx?
You feel like a fish out of water, sauntering through its imposing halls, though with the skin-tight YSL piece digging into your armpits and the backs of your heels blistering from your stilettos, no one bats an eye at you.
Everything is off-the-rack, but the cleaning ladies are none the wiser.
You suppose this is your life now.
On the edges of a fancy-schmancy world, where you can spend a Monday night at a Met Gala after party but still have to trudge to places on foot because none of the chauffeurs lined up outside of the bar were there for you.
February in New York City means slushy streets and some bullshit called windchill and my god, you shouldn't have worn open-toed heels—but you'd be damned if you were gonna pay ten bucks to Uber for a two-block trip.
Besides, you couldn't have ever known you'd be doing this anyway.
Tch, you'd grumbled as you stepped into another puddle of disgusting, grey wetness. Seriously? A note? Who slips a note at a party?
Imagine your surprise when you took your eyes away from the bar counter for thirty seconds, just to look back and find a crinkled ball of paper rolling to a stop in front of you. Conveniently, when you looked over in the direction it came from, New York City's tallest was having a conversation with New York City's widest, right in your line of vision.
After unfolding it, you squinted. The writing is elegant and dense and absurdly smudged from the crinkle job. Then, your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull.
let's have dinner. waldorf astoria, room 2705.
tell the receptionist you're with me to get in.
psh
Unlike him, you hadn't even gone to the Met Gala. Maybe in the future, fingers crossed, but that was still out of your prospects for at least the next couple of years.
You'd only been at the after party as a plus one—how he had even found out you were there was beyond you.
He didn't even invite you to a restaurant. Just straight to his room like an animal.
You ripped the note into quarters, crumpling the loose slips into a clump in your palm, and tried to pretend you never read it by losing yourself in the music.
You didn't recognize the song playing. You hadn't recognized the last six songs. The music hasn't been good for the past hour and a half, and the two martinis in your system were giving you a nice buzz.
Oh, what the hell.
When you got to the hotel, you absolutely refused to tell the receptionist you were 'with him', so you ended up waiting around until you could tailgate a sweet-looking woman into the elevator.
Guilt twinged in your chest when she asked you if you had tried out the in-house spa and you had to lie about how great the massage services were. You were grateful that she got off at the fifth floor and you rode the remaining twenty-two floors alone.
Now, you're standing in front of room 2705, rapping your knuckles against the door decisively because you argue that whatever awaits you inside is nothing to be scared of. It would add onto the headache you already had from the lavender sachets, at most.
Exactly fifteen seconds later, Park Sunghoon opens the door.
He looks like a vampire, draped in all black: a black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. Black slacks, cinched at his ridiculously small waist. A black blazer, thrown over the back of the hotel chaise longue behind him.
It's deceivingly plain, but you can tell they're all custom pieces. Rich people can't tell a rotten fruit from a ripe one, but they sure can point out custom work when they see it.
Which means he can tell your get-up is laughable to most people like him, but considering the only version of you that he'd ever really known was two years old and more often than not in a Cheesecake Factory uniform, he's surprised nonetheless.
"Hi," you greet.
Sunghoon nods. "Hey."
You remember the night you met him.
He'd booked a private room at the Cheesecake Factory you waitressed at in Brooklyn; a fact you spent the rest of the night making fun of him for while you were tangled in his hotel room sheets.
You ridiculing him, the famous multimillionaire, for booking a private room at a Cheesecake Factory, and him giggling prettily into the crook of your neck. It was crack cocaine.
Thus lead to the six month whirlwind that was an under-the-radar fling with Park Sunghoon.
Except flings didn't fuck as tenderly as the two of you did or talk about running away to a sandy white island off the coast of Greece or say things like "I love you"—but perhaps they did in your world and, either way, it was in the past. You let bygones be bygones.
You also want bygones to stay bygones, so you don't beat around the bush. "I'm not here to have sex with you."
Sunghoon doesn't flinch. "All I asked for was dinner," he drawls.
His hands find your shoulders, guiding you further into the suite, thumbs pressing into your flesh as he tries to get the tenseness in your traps to dissolve.
There's a table set up next to the flat-screen. It's a salmon dinner, with a Riesling to pair, served on the fanciest Italian porcelain you've ever seen.
He pulls out a chair for you, ever the gentleman, before sitting your opposite, immediately reaching for the wine.
The dinner is relatively silent. Not that you really care; you busy yourself with staring at the intricacies of the plate design, new details seemingly appearing every time you blink.
You don't eat too much—unable to afford being bloated for your shoot tomorrow—but neither does he, an athlete, so you don't know what's up with him.
The dinner is just a pretext, of course. Again, not that you really care.
The wine has only added to the buzz from the martinis and your sinus still faintly aches of lavender and the pointy tip of Sunghoon's Ferragamo leather loafer has been dragging up and down the bare length of your calf the whole time.
You're plenty distracted.
He swishes the liquid, pale gold and semi-sweet, around in his glass. "You're a model now."
"Yeah."
"What kind?"
"Editorial."
"I haven't seen you on anything."
How arrogant. "Cut me some slack, alright? I've only been doing this thing for a year! Besides, I have a shoot tomorrow with Marie Claire." You sniff haughtily, taking another sip of wine. "I'm gonna make my big break any day now. Just watch."
"Just a year and you're going to Met Gala parties?"
"My aunt does event marketing for YSL. Any more questions, Curious George?"
That shuts him up, one of his thick eyebrows quirking upwards. You stifle a simper. "And what about you? I heard your contract is ending soon."
Sunghoon looks taken aback by the fact that you knew anything remotely recent about him. As if you couldn't, with his face seemingly plastered on every imaginable surface at all times.
Park Sunghoon Wins Silverstone. Park Sunghoon Named Brand Ambassador for David Yurman. Park Sunghoon Eats and Shits and Breathes Like the Rest of Us Pathetic Earth-Dwellers.
"Oh, yeah. it is."
"You let anyone dine you?"
He sighs. "...McLaren and Mercedes, but only because I wanted to try the restaurants they were offering to take me to."
A pause. "You know I would never drive for them."
Right. This is Park Sunghoon you're talking to, after all.
Ferrari's golden boy since seventeen. The face of a legacy he has yet to continue. Carrying the screaming, agony-wrung souls of former Tifosi glory with him between his ribs every time he sat behind the wheel.
It's a lot to bear even for shoulders as wide and sturdy as his, but for someone who doesn't care for the fame, it's all he knows.
Because if anyone has to win a championship title, it's him—and Park Sunghoon has to do it with Ferrari. To do it with any other team would be meaningless.
He's also entirely convinced he looks better in red than any other colour. You aren't sure whether that's part of the Stockholm syndrome or not.
At some point, he had stopped dragging his shoe along your skin, now just lightly resting his foot on top of yours, careful of your bare toes. You lock your ankle around his. "So you're going to extend with Ferrari?"
"Yeah."
"For how long?"
"However long it takes."
A rueful smile. Of course.
Sunghoon watches you the whole time. He isn't sure whether the two of you have exchanged enough pleasantries and padded conversation for him to say what he's really thinking.
"I thought you didn't want to be part of this world," he finally blurts anyway.
Your jaw ticks. Way to be a buzzkill, you want to say.
"I don't," you say instead.
"Then why are you a model? Why do you have a shoot tomorrow for Marie Claire?"
His thinly-veiled composure frays at the edges, frustration seeping through. "I wouldn't have even known you weren't in Brooklyn anymore if you weren't clearly a part of it."
The accusation in his tone, in turn, frustrates you.
"It's not that i didn't want to be part of this world," you retort with a pointed click of your tongue. "I just didn't want to be part of your world."
Sunghoon stares at you blankly. It takes someone who really knows him to catch the flicker of desperation that passes through his eyes.
You catch it, but that doesn't mean anything.
"I can't do it, Sunghoon. It's too much. I can't deal with my name having such huge stakes attached to it. I can't deal with the constant traveling. I— I like modelling. And working with creative people. And being an hour away from my parents and sister and cat."
It's an insensitive thing to say to someone like him; possibly the worst thing you could've possibly said, because you know that he only lived and lavished in Monaco as it was what was expected of him, and if it were up to him, he'd be living in his grandmother's folk village in the Jeollanam-do countryside, helping her run her samgyetang restaurant.
Your lips purse when you see how his eyes narrow at you in hurt. You finally soften your voice. "I... I wouldn't want to be kept a secret, since that would just hurt the both of us. But I also wouldn't want us to be public and have you face-tank all the backlash."
"I don't care about that."
"Well I do. I don't want you to have to protect me, either. It's just—" your manicured hand curls against the tablecloth. Fuck, this is harder than you thought—especially with how he's looking at you, eyes all soft and imploring, lips slightly parted.
Anyone else would call you crazy, but he looks like a puppy to you. A big, fluffy white puppy.
Your puppy.
You could never ask him to leave his dreams for you.
You know he wouldn't, anyway.
Just like how you wouldn't hurt yourself just to be with him, no matter how much you wished the stars would align.
Such is life.
"Maybe in ten years. Or another life," you muse, but it doesn't land right, and you can tell that.
The weight of his foot moves off of yours. You want to order him to put it back, to tether you back to earth before you float away.
You have a fistful of tablecloth at this point, grip tightening around the floral-printed fabric, before unfurling. Open palms pushing yourself up from your seat.
Sunghoon's head tilts up to look at you as you come closer to him. His legs spread naturally to let you stand between them, a dink coming from where his bony kneecap hits the edge of the table.
Your eyes are soft and your hands are softer, cupping his face.
"My pretty boy," you whisper mournfully. "I'm sorry."
Sunghoon doesn't say anything. Just tears his glassy gaze away from yours to turn his head in your palms, kissing the skin.
You let him kiss up your arm, across the stretch of your collarbone and neck and cheek, until his lips meet yours.
Large, reverent hands nearly close around the whole surface area of your hips, gently pulling you towards his lap. You're drowning in the scent of his cologne—he hasn't changed it in two years—and settle down against him.
He groans into the heat of your mouth. It's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.
When you feel his hard-on poking your ass, you know your time here is up.
You let him a leave a hickey on your throat (it's not like you had much to lose if you were spotted with one) before sliding off his thighs. Smoothing down your dress where it had flipped up, then straightening out his collar. He doesn't stop touching you until you're physically out of reach, and even when you are, he doesn't move.
Sunghoon stays where he is, slouched and legs spread, body still cradling the ghost of you, as you pick up your purse and coat.
The door sounds like a gunshot, closing behind you.
He tilts his head backward, so far over the back of the velvet dining chair that his neck threatens to snap, and closes his eyes.
That night, when you're snuggled up in bed in your tiny shoebox apartment—because after all, this is still New York City—you dream about life in Jeollanam-do.
You're sitting on a plastic pink step stool, shucking corn because Park Halmeoni is a dignified, conservative woman who insists the husband do all the dirty work.
Lo and behold, there he is.
Standing in the mud of the rice fields, smile sweet as summer peaches.
Pairing: racer!heeseung (au) x fem!reader | wc: ~4.9k
Side character(s): Mina (Y/N’s best friend)
╭ ─ ─ ─ 𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 ᯓ★
You weren’t supposed to be at the illegal street races tonight. But one police raid, a narrow escape in a matte red Ferrari, and a screaming match later, you find yourself exactly where you always end up with Lee Heeseung: tangled in the cramped backseat, settling your arguments the only way you two know how.
╭ ─ ─ ─ 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ᯓ★
MDNI! 18+ explicit sexual content, illegal street racing/criminal activity, police evasion & fleeing law enforcement, implied drug use, toxic and unhealthy situationship dynamics, intense arguing & yelling, angry car sex, pet names (baby), protected penetrative sex (condom use, always!), aggressive marking/hickeys (biting & sucking), explicit dirty talk, mild degradation & slut-shaming, fingering, mild edging/pacing, explicit vocalizations (whimpering, grunting & moaning), explicit descriptions of bodily fluids/wetness, possessive/jealous behavior, and overstimulation. Phew! Let me know if I missed anything.
╭ ─ ─ ─ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ᯓ★
This one is for the princesses who love a walking red flag with good bone structure (guilty as charged 🤭). Fair warning: this fic is definitely on the heavier, more explicit side, so please read the tags and keep that in mind before diving in! Anyway, I’m going to go disassociate to a Heeseung ohmami edit now. Bye!
🎧 ೀ⋆.˚ Now playing: OHMAMI - Chase Atlantic (press below to play)
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||၊|• 0:10
The engines had been screaming for the better part of an hour.
Not the polite, polished roar of legal tracks with sponsorship banners and safety marshals. This was the other kind, raw, illegal, midnight asphalt on the abandoned industrial stretch outside the city limits where the streetlights had died years ago and nobody asked questions as long as the money was right. The air smelled like burnt rubber, cheap beer, and the metallic tang of adrenaline. Headlights cut through the dark in sharp white beams. People lined both sides of the makeshift quarter-mile in hoodies and leather jackets, some perched on car hoods, others filming on phones they would delete before sunrise. Bass from someone’s trunk speakers rolled across the crowd in heavy waves.
Everything about this place was illegal: the racing, the betting, the lack of permits, the way the local cops stayed bought off for the night. One wrong tip and the whole stretch could be swarming with flashing lights.
You were not supposed to be here.
Your best friend, Mina, had dragged you out with the classic “one race, then we leave, I swear” promise that had already been broken three times. She had been talking all week about some guys from a party a few months back, the ones who ran in these circles, and somehow that conversation had turned into you standing on cracked concrete in a black mini dress that hugged every curve, heeled boots that made walking a calculated risk, and gold jewelry catching the low light every time you moved. Your hair was done. Makeup was sharp. You looked expensive and a little dangerous, which was exactly the point when you were trying to forget that your normal life involved spreadsheets and early alarms.
“Ugh… I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” you muttered, shifting your weight as another car peeled out from the starting line. “My feet are already filing a formal complaint. These boots were not designed for gravel and crime.”
Mina grinned, completely unbothered, and took a sip of whatever questionable drink someone had handed her. “Please! You look hot. That’s the important part. And stop acting like you had plans. Your plans were Netflix and judging other people’s lives from the safety of your couch.”
“Hey! Judging is a legitimate hobby.”
“Mhm, sure. And yet here you are, in a dress that says ‘I might cause problems,’ at an illegal race, looking for trouble.”
“I am not looking for trouble. I am looking for the exit. There’s a difference.”
Mina snorted. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. Also, if we see those guys from the party, you have to be nice. Or at least not openly hostile. I still have hope.”
“Your hope is concerning. Those guys were walking red flags with good bone structure.” (lmao)
“And yet you still ended up in someone’s back seat that night,” she said pointedly.
You shot her a look. “Yah. We don’t talk about that.”
“We absolutely talk about that. Especially when the someone in question is about to race.” She nodded toward the red Ferrari rolling up to the starting line. Custom everything, matte red so deep it looked like it was drinking the darkness, black rims, the kind of low stance that said the owner cared more about speed than comfort. “That’s him, right? The one you keep complaining about?”
You sipped the lukewarm drink someone had handed you earlier and pretended your pulse wasn’t doing something stupid. “I complain because he’s a problem. Inconsistent. Disappears for days. I’m only here because you wanted to see if those party guys would show.”
Mina gave you a look that said she wasn’t buying the full story, but she didn’t push it. “Sure. And I’m only here for the fresh air and excellent life decisions.”
“You’re the worst friend actually.”
“I’m the best friend. You just hate that I’m right.” She bumped her shoulder against yours. “Relax. One race. Then we leave. I swear.”
“You’ve said that three times already.”
“This time I mean it.”
You both knew she didn’t.
The previous heat finished with a cloud of tire smoke and a chorus of cheers. Then the red Ferrari’s engine snarled to life again, lower, hungrier. You knew that sound. You had heard it up close before, windows down, city lights blurring, his hand on your thigh while he laughed at something stupid you said.
Lee Heeseung.
You had met him three months ago at that same party Mina was still chasing. He had been leaning against this exact red Ferrari, looking like he would rather be anywhere else until his eyes landed on you. One conversation turned into a drive. One drive turned into the back seat. Then another night. Then the kind of situationship where neither of you asked for labels because labels made things real, and real things could be taken away. You told yourself it was just convenience. He told himself whatever this was didn’t mean anything.
He never texted first during the day. But the second the sun went down, your phone would light up with a location pin or a simple “u free?” And somehow you always were.
Tonight he had sent nothing. Yet you had shown up anyway.
People around you started placing last-second bets as the red Ferrari lined up against a dark blue muscle car that looked like it had been built for pure aggression. Someone near the front shouted the odds. Mina leaned in closer, voice raised over the noise.
“He’s been winning most of these for months,” she said. “Apparently he used to race more when he first got the car. Got a reputation fast. Quiet, doesn’t talk much, just shows up and ruins everyone’s night.”
You already knew that. You had heard the stories in passing, how he treated the illegal circuit like a private playground, how other drivers respected him enough to be nervous, how the red Ferrari had become something of a legend on these stretches of road. Still, hearing it out loud made the whole thing feel heavier.
The starting lights flashed.
Green.
The red Ferrari launched like it had been shot from a cannon. The other car tried to keep up and failed within the first hundred meters, its engine roaring in protest as Heeseung shifted like the gearbox was an extension of his own body. The crowd lost its mind. Cheers and shouts mixed with the scream of engines. You felt the bass of the Ferrari in your chest even from the sidelines. Rubber burned in thick clouds. Someone near you screamed his name. Mina grabbed your arm and shook it hard, yelling something you couldn’t fully hear over the noise. The whole scene stayed illegal and electric, no official timers, no safety barriers, just pure risk and speed under the cover of darkness. The blue car recovered slightly on the second stretch, but it was already too late. Heeseung took the final corner clean and crossed the finish line lengths ahead. Victory was clean, almost arrogant in how easy he made it look.
The second the cars slowed, his crew swarmed, guys in black jackets clapping his back, shouting about the money he had just won them, already talking about the next race. He climbed out of the driver’s seat, helmet off. His hair was a mess of faded red that had almost completely given way to blond underneath, the color uneven and soft under the low lights. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white tee, the kind that sat perfectly on his shoulders and made the lines of his arms obvious even under the leather. Dark jeans sat low on his hips. Even from here you could see the quiet satisfaction on his face, the small almost-smile that never quite became a full grin in public. His eyes looked redder up close, like the high from the win had mixed with whatever else was in his system.
He was still accepting the back-claps when his gaze drifted across the crowd, and landed on you.
The shift was immediate and unplanned. His expression flickered with clear surprise, like he hadn’t expected to see you here at all.
That was when the chaos hit.
Blue-and-red lights flooded the far edge of the industrial stretch, not one patrol car but three, rolling in faster than the bought-off window usually allowed. Sirens cut through the bass. Someone in the crowd screamed. Engines fired up all at once. People scattered in every direction, phones disappearing into pockets, money changing hands in panicked fistfuls. A spotlight swept across the asphalt. The illegal gathering fractured in seconds.
Heeseung’s eyes snapped from the lights back to you. He said something short to his crew and started walking straight toward you, faster now, weaving through the sudden panic. People parted without being asked.
You were still processing the fact that he was even here, standing in the middle of the chaos like he belonged to it, when he closed the last of the distance. His fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist and tugged.
“Heeseung– what the hell? Let go–”
“We’re leaving. Now.” His voice was low, still rough from the race, edged with urgency and whatever was still riding through his system. “Cops are actually showing up tonight. Move, Y/N.”
You pulled back once, sharp and instinctive, the surprise of seeing him appear out of nowhere still tangled with the blare of sirens. For a second you genuinely thought you could refuse. Then the grip on your wrist tightened just enough to make it clear you didn’t stand a chance against him, and the first spotlight swung too close for comfort.
You twisted just enough to catch Mina’s eyes in the scattering crowd and shot her a quick, apologetic look of “sorry, I’ll text you, just go”, before he was already pulling you forward. Gravel kicked up under your heels. People dove into cars. The red Ferrari loomed ahead, already pointing toward the darker side roads. He yanked the passenger door open, basically pushed you in, then rounded the hood and threw himself into the driver’s seat. The engine snarled awake. Tires spun. The car launched forward just as one of the patrol cars turned down the same stretch, lights painting the rearview red and blue for a split second before the Ferrari bent the corner hard and the industrial maze swallowed you both.
Heeseung drove like the race had never ended, hitting speed that made the dash numbers climb, taking corners sharp enough that your shoulder pressed into the door. You twisted in your seat, looking back through the rear window, heart still hammering as you tried to see if any of the patrol cars had managed to follow. The dark stretch behind you stayed empty. No lights. No sirens close enough to matter. Only then did the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. That was why neither of you spoke at first, the silence between you filled with the low growl of the engine and the shared, unspoken relief that the cops hadn’t kept up. The city glow stayed distant. Sirens faded behind you. Only when the access road dead-ended near an old loading bay, no lights, no cameras, just concrete and shadows, did he kill the engine. The sudden quiet felt heavier than the noise had.
For a second the only sound was both of you breathing hard.
Then he looked at you, eyes still a little too bright, still riding whatever high the night had given him, and the surprise from earlier had already hardened into something sharper.
“Why the fuck are you here?!”
The words came out loud, almost shouting, the anger cutting through the quiet of the car.
You blinked, then matched his volume. “Excuse me?!”
“Why are you here?!” he yelled, voice low but heated, the high in his eyes making it sharper. “I didn’t text you! I didn’t tell you about the race! So why the hell are you standing in the middle of an illegal track when the cops are rolling in?!”
Your own temper flared hot and immediate. “Mina wanted to see if those guys from the party would show! I got dragged along! That’s it!”
“That’s not a fucking answer!”
“It’s the only one you’re getting!” You were yelling now too, the adrenaline from the escape still buzzing under your skin. “You don’t get to act pissed that I showed up when you’re the one who only calls when it’s convenient! You disappear for days! You act like nothing happened! Then you look at me like that and expect me to just, what?! Stay home and wait?!”
He let out a short, disbelieving breath and shoved a hand through his hair hard. “I never asked you to wait!”
“No! You just make it impossible not to!” The words tore out of you louder than you meant. “You pull me into your car, you make me feel like the only person who matters, and then you vanish! So yeah, I’m tired of it! It’s cleaner than pretending this is anything more than a late-night habit for you!”
“Cleaner for who?!”
“For me!” You laughed once, sharp and humorless, still yelling. “You think I like this?! Showing up places I shouldn’t be just because there’s a chance you’ll be there?! It’s pathetic! And you don’t even care enough to pretend it’s more than that!”
Heeseung’s jaw tightened. The high in his eyes made the anger look sharper. “Y/N, I might say I love you when I’m like this! But I’m lying! You know that, right?! It’s just the night! It’s just you looking like that after I almost got us both arrested!”
“Good!” you shot back, voice rising to meet his. “Because I don’t need you to love me! I need you to stop acting like this is nothing and then dragging me into your car every time things get messy! You can’t have it both ways, Heeseung!”
“I’m not trying to have it both ways!”
“Yes you are!” You were fully yelling now, the words spilling out unchecked. “You’re high, you just won, and now you’re saying shit you don’t mean so you can feel something! And I’m sitting here letting you! Again!”
Silence crashed between you, thick and charged, both of you breathing hard. Outside, the industrial dark stayed empty. Inside the Ferrari the air felt too small. Neither of you moved for a long moment. The argument sat between you like a third person, heavy and unresolved, the echo of the yelling still hanging in the quiet.
Heeseung looked at you for a long second, something restless and toxic flickering behind the red-tinged eyes. Then he reached back and unlocked the rear doors with a soft click.
“Back seat,” he said, voice quieter now but still rough, still edged. “If you’re going to keep throwing that shit at me, do it where I can shut you up properly.”
You stared at him. “No.”
The word came out flat, more pride than real refusal.
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I said no.” Your voice stayed steady even while your pulse was doing something traitorous. You both knew it wasn’t a real no, it was the same stubborn push-pull the two of you always did when neither wanted to be the first to give in. “I’m not climbing back there just because you’re mad and high and looking for a way to win another argument.”
For a second he just looked at you. Then a short, disbelieving laugh left him.
“You’re seriously going to sit there and pretend you don’t want this right now?” His voice rose again, but there was no real threat in it, just frustration and the same charged heat that always sat between you. “You show up to an illegal race you weren’t invited to, yell at me about how I disappear, and now you’re going to act like you’re done?”
“Maybe I am.”
“You’re not.” He leaned in closer, the leather jacket creaking, eyes too bright. “You think I don’t know you want this too? You’re sitting there breathing like that, looking at me like that. We’ve done this enough times for me to know when you’re actually saying no and when you’re just pissed and still want me.”
You hated how right Heeseung was. The leftover adrenaline, the yelling, the way he was staring at you, all of it had already settled low in your stomach. You wanted it. You just didn’t want to hand him the win of admitting it first.
“That’s not the point,” you said, quieter but still firm.
“It is the point.” He didn’t move closer, didn’t reach for you. He just waited, voice low and rough. “I’m not going to drag you back there. But I’m also not driving you home until you stop lying to both of us about what you want right now.”
The silence stretched. Outside, nothing moved. Inside, the air felt thinner. You could still tell him to drive. You could force the issue. But the truth sat heavy between you: you didn’t want him to.
You exhaled hard, jaw tight, and climbed between the seats without another word. The space was immediately awkward, your knee hit the center console, one heel caught on the edge of the front seat, and you had to twist sideways just to fit. He followed right after, the leather jacket catching on the doorframe for a second before he yanked it free and pulled the door shut hard enough that the outside world disappeared. The back seat of the Ferrari was not built for this. The leather was cool against the back of your thighs. The ceiling was low. His shoulder bumped the window when he tried to brace himself. The interior smelled like his cologne, burnt rubber, and the faint sweetness of whatever he’d been on earlier.
Heeseung looked at you properly, eyes dark, still too bright, completely unapologetic, and the argument hadn’t fully left either of you.
He leaned in and kissed you like he was still mad about it.
It started rough, mouths fitting together with leftover heat from the fight, tongues sliding, teeth catching. A low sound escaped him when you bit his lower lip in return. His hand cupped the back of your neck hard enough to keep you exactly where he wanted, but the angle was wrong; his elbow hit the door panel with a dull thud. You kissed him back just as hard, fingers curling into the front of his white tee under the open leather jacket, still half-furious and fully wanting him. The leather creaked under the shift of your bodies. Soft, wet sounds of the kiss filled the quiet car, mixed with the occasional soft curse when a limb hit something solid.
He broke from your mouth only to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then lower, to the sensitive skin of your neck. There was nothing careful about it this time. He had to lean awkwardly over you, one knee braced on the seat, the other foot half on the floor. He sucked a mark into the side of your throat hard enough to sting, teeth grazing, and a sharp gasp left you. He moved an inch lower and did it again, harder, the wet sound of his mouth against your skin loud in the confined space. Another hickey formed under the pressure. He spent time there, kissing, biting, sucking until the skin felt hot and claimed, leaving a trail of darkening spots along the column of your neck and the top of your shoulder where the black mini dress left it bare. Each new mark pulled a quiet, broken sound out of you: soft “ah–”s and shaky exhales that made him hum roughly against your throat. At one point his head bumped the ceiling lightly and he muttered a short, frustrated curse before continuing.
Only when he seemed satisfied with the marks did his hand finally slide fully under the short hem of your dress. The fabric bunched high around your waist as he pushed it up. The angle was awkward, your leg was pinned between his and the seat back, but he didn’t stop. Fingers brushed the edge of your underwear, then slipped beneath the fabric without asking. He stroked through the wetness already waiting for him, two fingers circling your clit with firm pressure. A breathy “mmh–” slipped out of you at the first proper touch. He pushed the fingers inside without warning. The stretch was immediate. He curled them just right, thrusting deep while his thumb kept working outside, even as his wrist was clearly at an uncomfortable angle. Soft, filthy sounds filled the car: the wet slide of his fingers in your cunt, your breathier “ah… ah–” every time he crooked them against that spot, his low, rough hums against the marked skin of your neck.
“Already this wet,” Heeseung muttered, voice rough, a little breathless from the awkward position as he kept working his fingers inside you. “Mhm… look at this dress. You wore this tiny fucking thing to an illegal race and then tried to tell me no. Like you didn’t come here already knowing how easy it makes you… Look at you, your pussy’s dripping all over my fingers in the back of my car.”
“Don’t–” you started, but the word broke into a shaky moan when he added a third finger, stretching your hole further, working you open with none of the patience he usually showed. The wet sound of his fingers moving inside you was filthy and continuous. Your knee knocked against the door. He shifted, almost losing his balance, and had to catch himself with a hand on the seat back. “You don’t get to talk about my dress like that when you’re the one who–”
“When I’m the one who what? Huh?” he cut in, curling his fingers harder, dragging another broken sound out of you. “The one who keeps finding you in places you claim you don’t want to be? The one you keep letting in anyway?” He kept at it until your thighs were trembling, quiet needy sounds slipping out of you without permission, “Hee… fuck–”, fingering your soaked pussy through the rising heat until you were right on the edge, then easing back just enough to keep you there. A frustrated whimper left your throat.
“Hee–”
“Shh.” He withdrew his fingers slowly, the loss making you whine under your breath, the sound high and needy. Getting the condom was its own small struggle, he had to reach awkwardly into the side pocket, shoulder pressing into the seat, and tear the wrapper with his teeth while still half on top of you. Heeseung shoved his jeans and underwear down just far enough to free himself, not bothering to take them off completely in the cramped space, and rolled the condom on with quick, almost careless efficiency, muttering another soft curse when his elbow hit the window. Then he settled between your legs in the limited space. There was nowhere for your legs to go properly; one ended up hooked over his hip, the other bent against the door. The black mini dress was still bunched high around your waist, the fabric crumpled and out of the way. The head of his cock rubbed against your wet entrance once, twice, coating himself in how soaked you were. A low grunt escaped him at the contact.
“Still gonna pretend you didn’t want this baby?” he asked, voice rough, the head of him pressing against your cunt but not pushing in yet.
“Shut up and just–” you started.
He pushed inside in one long, hard thrust before you could finish.
The stretch was perfect, thick and deep. A punched-out groan cracked out of him as he bottomed out in your pussy, the sound rough and almost pained with how good it felt. You answered with an open, unrestrained moan that filled the back seat. The position was immediately awkward: your back was half against the door, his knee was digging into the seat, jeans still tangled around his thighs, and every movement made the leather creak loudly. He didn’t give you time to adjust. He started moving, deep, insistent rolls of his hips that took full advantage of the confined space, each stroke harder than the last, even as the limited room forced him to keep the motion short and sharp. The wet sound of him fucking into your cunt was filthy and rhythmic. Every thrust dragged against the spot inside you that made your fingers tighten on his shoulders and pulled soft, broken “ah– ah– fuck–”s out of your mouth.
“Ngh… Jesus–” he grunted, voice strained, adjusting his weight so he wouldn’t crush you against the door. “So fucking tight– and this car is too fucking small–” Heeseung’s eyes dropped to where the dress was still pushed up around your waist. “Bend it for me sideways– fuck... that dress is already doing half the work for me. Look at you, came all this way in that little thing just to end up with my cock buried in your cunt.”
“Ah– You’re such an asshole,” you managed between thrusts, the words half-moaned.
“Yeah?” He drove in harder, the angle making both of you gasp. “And yet you’re still taking it. Still letting me fuck this pussy in the back of my car after yelling at me for ten minutes. Make it make sense...”
You stayed bold even when the pleasure made your voice shake and the awkward angle made every thrust feel sharper. “Harder– ah– if you’re gonna be an asshole about it, at least commit– fuck, the door–”
“I am committing, Y/N” His hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise while the other kept the bunched fabric of the dress out of the way. “You just don’t like that I’m right.” Pace building, rougher, deeper within the limited range, the sounds turning lower and more broken every time he drove in to the hilt, his low grunts cracking into softer, almost involuntary whimpers when the angle was especially good, your higher “yes– there– fuck–” spilling out unchecked. The wet sound of him moving inside your cunt was constant and filthy. His hand slipped between your bodies to rub tight, insistent circles over your clit, the movement cramped but effective. The dual sensation pushed you higher until your thighs started to tremble and your moans turned shaky and continuous, one hand braced against the window for leverage.
“That’s it baby,” Heeseung muttered, voice rough and strained, forehead nearly bumping yours with every thrust. “Come on my cock. Even if you’re still mad about it tomorrow–ah, fuck– this angle… mhm– look at you in that little dress, taking it like this in the back of my car– still gonna tell me you don’t want this pussy full of me?”
“I– ah– fuck you–“
“Already am.” He laughed once, short and breathless, and kept going. “Come on. Let go baby… You always do. I want to feel this cunt come around me…”
You came hard, a broken, open-mouthed cry tearing out of you as your pussy clenched around him, walls pulsing. Your shoulder hit the door. He worked you through it with the same insistent rhythm, low grunts and soft “that’s it– take it– come for me–“ spilling against your mouth, until the oversensitivity made you twist and whimper under him, the movement making the whole seat shift. Only then did he let himself follow, a few final deep, almost brutal thrusts that made the car rock slightly, a punched-out groan breaking into a long, rough, drawn-out sound as he came, buried deep in your cunt, forehead pressed to yours, cock pulsing inside the condom while soft aftershocks of sound left both of you. One of his knees slipped off the edge of the seat at the end and he caught himself with a short, breathless laugh that was more frustration than humor.
For a while the only sound was heavy, uneven breathing and the distant quiet of the industrial dark outside. The back seat felt even smaller now that the urgency had drained out of it. Until…
Your phone started ringing.
The sharp, sudden sound cut through the quiet like a blade. Both of you froze.
The screen lit up from where your bag had ended up on the floor, the name glowing clearly in the dark, too clear, too familiar, too perfectly timed.
You stared at it, pulse still unsteady, the leftover heat of everything that had just happened colliding with something colder.
Heeseung’s breathing was still uneven against your neck. The second the name registered, his entire body went still. The arm that had been loosely around you tightened, almost possessive, and when you glanced up the look on his face was no longer just irritated. It was sharp. Controlled. Almost angry in a way that had nothing to do with the argument from earlier and everything to do with whoever was calling.
Neither of you moved.
The phone kept ringing, the sound stretching the silence thinner and thinner until it felt like the whole car was holding its breath.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t have to.
The way he was looking at the screen said enough…
END SCENE.
(Welp, I guess we have a little cliffhanger here hehe 🤭)
when you and riki finally get to begin building a peaceful future, something threatens to destroy it all.
⌛️pairing: yakuzahusband!riki x yakuzawife!reader
contains: fluff heavy angst hurt pregnancy betrayal reader gets held hostage threats violence stalking stab wound blood murder character death no happy ending
🗒️vaeh’s note: this is first heavy angst I've written and omg guys I was tearing up writing this im deadass.
its even better if you start from part one! but its not necessary for this fic.
The past three months had honestly been the best three months of your marriage.
Not perfect, Riki's life would probably never allow for perfect. You still had to spend days in boring meetings about drugs and cash. People still feared him. Problems still landed on his desk every day.
But after that night, the night Kento died. The two of you had talked for hours that night. About the future. About fear, about what kind of man he wanted to be, about what kind of life the two of you wanted together.
Riki was still Riki, but he started trying.
He worked less. Handing responsibilities off whenever he could. He stopped attending meetings that didn't absolutely require his presence.
Sometimes you'd walk into his office expecting to find him buried in paperwork, only to find him stretched out on the couch waiting for you because he'd decided he'd worked enough for the day.
You'd gotten closer too. Not that the two of you had ever struggled with affection, with Riki practically living attached to your side. But the two of you spent more time together than ever before. You'd never been closer. Never been more in love.
Tonight was one of those nights. Riki had given the cook the evening off apparently because he wanted to cook himself.
Though you were pretty sure part of the reason was that he wanted an excuse to walk around the house shirtless all evening. The man wasn't subtle. He'd spent the entire time cooking in nothing but comfortable black pants and a dark robe hanging open over his shoulders.
Now dinner was finished. The two of you sat across from each other at the dining table.
Your foot kept brushing against his leg underneath it, ack and forth. Sometimes around his ankle, sometimes up his calf. Riki kept acting like he wasn't affected by it but the slight smirk on his face said otherwise.
Until eventually Riki stood up and collected both plates.You shake your head immediately.
"You cooked. I'll clean."
"No." His answer came before you'd even finished speaking.
"Riki."
"No." He gently squeezed the back of your neck as he walked past. "You go relax. Go take a bath." You looked up at him. "A bath?"
"Mhm." His thumb brushed your skin. "I'll clean everything up."
So while Riki disappeared toward the kitchen, you headed upstairs.
The master bathroom was probably one of the prettiest rooms in the entire house. Everything about it felt warm. A massive soaking tub sat beneath an arched window. Across from it is a long marble vanity cluttered with expensive perfumes, skincare products, and the little decorative items you collected over the years.
You turn on the faucet and watch steaming water begin filling the tub.Soft jazz starts playing from the speaker on the vanity and light a candle next.
You grabbed the shower gel and squeezed a few drops into the running water. Probably more than necessary, but you liked the sweet vanilla smell. The bubbles started forming immediately.
Then your eyes drifted toward the mirror. You stood in front of it and your silk robe slid from your shoulders. You turned slightly sideways and one hand settled against your lower stomach. Studying your reflection. A small smile pulled at your lips.
The tub was nearly full now. You stepped out of the robe completely and carefully lowered yourself into the water. With a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes.
By the time you come downstairs, your hair is still damp from the bath, falling over your shoulders. A butter-yellow nightgown brushes against your thighs with every step. The matching robe hangs open and loose around your body, and your gold necklace rests against your skin, the pendant disappearing into the neckline.
The house is quiet except for the sound of Riki moving around the kitchen. He's wiping down the counter when he hears soft footsteps behind him. Before he can turn around, two arms suddenly wrap around his waist. Riki lets out a surprised chuckle.
"There she is."
You squeeze him tighter. His hand immediately settles over yours. Standing on your toes, you lean up and press a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you for doing the dishes."
"Hm. You're welcome." You smile against his shoulder before letting go.
In the old wooden cabinet in the corner of the rooms stands a radio and a collection of CDs you've both gathered over the years. You open it, flipping through them until you find the one you're looking for. A second later, old jazz music fills the room. You turn the volume up a little higher than necessary.
Riki is still standing in the kitchen looking directly at you. His eyes slowly travel over your figure. Taking his time. You fight back a smile, then hold both hands out toward him. No words needed. Riki immediately knows what you want. You wiggle your fingers impatiently.
"Come here."
He laughs softly, then starts walking toward you.
His hands slide around your waist underneath the robe. Warm palms settling against your sides. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck.
And the two of you slowly start moving to the music. Your bare are feet gliding across the cold marble floor. Riki's gaze never really leaves your face, just admiring your beauty. His thumb brushes absentmindedly against your side.
Eventually one of his hands leaves your waist, sliding up to smooth a few damp strands of hair behind your ear. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile immediately and rest your head against his shoulder. Riki's chin settles lightly on top of your head and you both close your eyes.
Neither of you talks, just feel hum of the music and the warmth of your bodies so close together and keep swaying slowly through the living room.
After a moment, he buries his face against the side of your neck and takes a good sniff.
"Mm. You smell so good."
You chuckle softly. His voice is muffled against your skin. "You smell like vanilla."
"That's because I just spent an hour bathing in vanilla."
"Hm."
One of his hands slides upward and catches on your necklace. His finger traces the thin gold chain, following it all the way down before letting it slip through his fingers again. He holds your chin lightly between his index finger and his thumbb and he looks at you for a second, before his hands start wandering off again.
They slide slowly down your spine and he lets them rest on your lower back. You can feel how relaxed he is. A version of him almost nobody else ever gets to see.
And that's when your stomach flips, because you've been waiting for the right moment all evening. Maybe all week. Every time you'd almost said it, something interrupted. A phone call. A meeting. A visitor. But now it's just the two of you and you can't keep it to yourself anymore.
"Riki."
"Hm?" His eyes stay closed.
"I have to tell you something."
That gets his attention. He pulls back slightly. Both hands settling properly on your sides as he looks down at you. "What?"
For a second you can't speak. Your throat feels tight, your eyes already sting. Which is ridiculous. You've rehearsed this conversation in your head a hundred times. Yet now that it's actually happening, all your words disappear.
Riki notices immediately and his expression shifts. Concern replacing the relaxed smile.
"Baby?"
You let out a shaky laugh. Then another. And somehow that turns into tears. His eyebrows pull together instantly. "Hey." One hand comes up to your cheek. "What’s wrong?"
You shake your head. Nothing’s wrong. A laugh escapes you through the tears.
Then finally—
"I'm pregnant."
The room suddenly feels very quiet. Riki just looks at you like his brain is trying to catch up.
"Really?" The smile starts before he even finishes speaking. You nod.
Tears immediately spilling over. "Yes." Your voice wobbles. "I took a test a few days ago."
Then he laughs. Completely caught off guard. His hands grab your face.
"Really?" You start laughing too. "Yes, really."
The smile on his face gets even bigger. You don't think you've ever seen him smile like that before. Then suddenly his hands slide to your waist. Before you can react, you're lifted completely off the ground.
"Riki!" He spins you around once and your laughter fills the room. For one of the only times in his life, he feels like nothing else in the world matters. Just you and the tiny secret you've been carrying for days.
—
The next few months felt like a completely different life for both of you.
The pregnancy changed everything. The way he'd suddenly become interested in things he'd never cared about before. Doctors appointments. Baby names. Cribs. Tiny clothes. Tiny clothes especially. You caught him staring at baby shoes for ten straight minutes once, then pretending he wasn't.
It was the happiest you'd ever seen him. Genuinely. Even the people around him noticed. His employees noticed. His men noticed. The people in the office definitely noticed.
Especially his assistant Kenji. Poor Kenji nearly had a heart attack the first time Riki thanked him for something. A simple thank you. That's all it was. Yet Kenji had stood there looking so confused that Riki ended up laughing at him. The entire office talked about it for a week.
Things were good, really good. You were building a family. A future. The kind of future the two of you had spent years talking about. For the first time in a long time, everything felt settled. Like the universe had finally decided to leave you alone.
But of course it didn't.
It started with a letter. A plain white envelope sitting on Riki's desk one morning. No return address, no name. Just a single sheet of paper inside. The message was short: He'd pay for murdering Kaizen.
Riki barely reacted. He read it once, scoffed. Then tossed it straight into the shredder. Threats weren't exactly new to him. People had threatened to kill him before. Threatened to torture him. Threatened to burn down his businesses. Threatened to wipe out his entire bloodline. Compared to some of those, this letter was nothing. So he ignored it.
Then another one came. And another. The messages got longer, more personal. He still ignored them. Then the phone calls started. At first they only came to his office. The receptionist would transfer them through. Riki would answer, a distorted voice would start talking. Threats, promises and warnings. The first few times he hung up immediately.
Eventually he stopped reacting altogether, but they kept coming. Then they got his personal number. That was when things became annoying.
The calls started arriving in the middle of the night. Two in the morning, or thee, sometimes four. The phone vibrating on the bedside table waking both of you up. Riki would immediately grab it before you could, step into the hallway, come back five minutes later and tell you it was nothing. Just work.
You knew he was lying, but not about what.
Then the photos appeared. The first one arrived in another envelope. A picture of Riki sitting in his office, taken from outside the building. The second showed him getting into his car after work. The third showed him walking through the front gate of your home. The fourth showed him standing beside you. That one made his stomach drop.
Still, he tried to brush it off to you. Every time you asked if everything was okay, he'd pull you closer and tell you not to worry. Every time you looked nervous, he'd promise nobody would touch you. Nobody would touch the baby. Nobody would touch his family.
And he meant it.
But privately? Privately, Riki was worried.
Because Kaizen wasn't some random man he'd crossed years ago. Kaizen had power, connections, loyal people. The kind of people willing to wait months for revenge. The kind of people patient enough to make a man paranoid before making a move.
So even while he insisted everything was under control, changes started happening. Extra security around the house. More cameras. New locks. Stricter visitor checks at the office. Kenji suddenly having two security men following him everywhere.
Nobody complained. The thing that truly unsettled them wasn't the threats. It was Riki. The fact that he was taking the threats seriously. The fact that sometimes they'd catch him staring at security footage longer than necessary. Checking camera angles.
And if Riki was worried? Then everybody else had a reason to be worried too.
The thing that finally broke him was a text message that came in the middle of the afternoon while he was working.
Unknown number. Seven photos of you. His stomach dropped instantly.
The first was you walking through a shopping district. The second was you getting coffee. The third was you leaving one of the organization's office buildings. The fourth was you stepping into your car. The fifth was taken so close he could make out the necklace around your neck.
By the seventh photo, Riki was already standing. His chair slammed backward. Kenji looked up from across the room.
"Boss?"
Riki didn't answer. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He stormed out of his office. Kenji immediately followed.
"Boss?"
"Meeting room." His voice was deadly calm, which somehow sounded worse than yelling. "Get everyone."
"Everyone?"
Riki stopped walking and turned around. The look he gave Kenji was enough. "Now."
Kenji was already reaching for his phone before Riki turned back around. Within minutes, the conference room was filling up. People rushed in from every floor of the building. Department heads. Security teams. Investigators. People who normally wouldn't be in the same room together. Nobody even bothered sitting down.
Riki stood at the end of the table. Furious. When the last person entered, he threw the phone onto the table. The pictures lit up across the screen. Nobody spoke.
"Find them." His voice echoed through the room. "I don't care who they are. Find them."
One of the security managers finally cleared his throat.
"Boss, we've already been investigating—"
Riki slammed his fist into the table. Several people visibly flinched. "I don't give a fuck. My wife is being followed."
“Boss—”.
"Try harder. Check every camera. Every employee."
Another fist hit the table. "Every fucking person that has entered this city if that's what it takes."
The room remained frozen because everybody knew this wasn't about business anymore. This wasn't about power or money. This was about you. And everybody in the organization knew there was one thing Riki loved more than himself. One thing he'd burn the entire city down for.
You.
The meeting lasted three hours. For the first time since the threats started, even the most experienced people in the room looked worried. Because of Riki.
And unfortunately, things only got worse. The threats kept coming, the photos kept coming. No matter what security measures were added, no matter how many people were assigned to investigate. Nothing stopped.
And slowly, it started affecting everything. Including your marriage. Arguments became more frequent. One night you'd ended up crying in the middle of the kitchen floor because you were exhausted. Things had finally been good and now it felt like someone was stealing that happiness piece by piece.
"I'm so scared." You'd admitted it quietly with tears running down your face.
"I just wanted things to be normal now." Riki had pulled you into his arms immediately because he wanted the same thing.
He started insisting. Security everywhere, at all times. You couldn't go shopping alone. You couldn't go to appointments alone. You couldn't even go get coffee alone anymore. A guard followed you everywhere.
You hated it, absolutely hated it. It made you feel trapped. But every time you argued, Riki only got more stubborn. Because every time another photo appeared on his phone, all he could think about was what happened if one day it wasn't just a photo.
So eventually you stopped fighting him because you saw what it was doing to him. How tired he looked, how often he checked his phone, how often he checked the security cameras. How many nights he stayed awake staring at the ceiling. At one point he'd even assigned somebody to monitor your location whenever you left the house. The poor guy probably knew your daily routine better than you did.
You thought it was ridiculous. Riki thought it wasn't enough. Which was how you ended up back at the office. Just like old times. Sitting through meetings that bored you to death. Listening to people discuss violent things you used to care about, before you found out you were going to be a mother.
—
Then came the threat that changed everything.
The drive home from the office had been quiet. Just you and Riki in the backseat while the city lights passed by outside. Your head rested against his shoulder. One of his hands was loosely wrapped around yours. By the time the car pulls into the driveway, you're already looking forward to getting inside, kick off your heels and relax.
Riki steps out first, then helps you out. The security guards do their usual check. Everything looks normal. Your driver, Ren, stays by the car while Riki walks you toward the front door. His arm settles around your shoulders automatically. He pulls his keys from his pocket, then his phone vibrates. He unlocks his screen and freezes immediately.
"Riki?"
He doesn't answer, his eyes are locked on the screen. You look down and your blood runs cold. A photo taken seconds ago. The picture shows the two of you standing exactly where you are now. In front of your own front door, riki holding his keys, you standing beside him.
The message underneath makes your stomach drop.
UNKNOWN: You, your wife and your baby are no longer safe here.
Your hand immediately flies to your mouth. "Oh my God."
You look around the property, the trees, the neighboring houses. Every corner suddenly feels dangerous.
"How do they know?" You whisper. Your eyes fill with tears instantly. "Nobody knows."
Nobody was supposed to know. The pregnancy hadn't been announced, the organization didn't even know. Yet somehow... they knew. Riki's jaw clenches. You can practically feel the anger radiating off him. But underneath it is real fear. For you, for the baby.
He immediately grabs your hand.
"Back in the car." You stare at him. "Now."
He turns you around and practically guides you back to the car, your heels quickly click against the stone. Ren sees your faces and immediately opens the door. Riki climbs in after you and slams the door shut.
"Office." Ren is already pulling away. His hand is shaking slightly, something you almost never see. He calls Kenji.
"Boss?"
"They know about the pregnancy."
"What?"
"We’re coming back." Riki rubs a hand over his face. "I want guards waiting outside when we arrive."
“Okay, sir.”
"Close every blind. Nobody enters the building without clearance."
"Understood."
The call ends.
Security guards line the office building’s entrance when you arrive. The second your car stops, two guards surround it, escorting the two of you inside. The emergency meeting starts less than ten minutes later. People practically run into the conference room. The moment Riki walks in and tells them about the picture, conversations erupt immediately. Suggestions, questions, plans, investigations.
You sit beside Riki and try to pay attention, but after a while the voices start blending together. Your eyes drift down to your hands resting on the table, your wedding ring catches the light. A tear slides down your cheek. Nobody notices, or maybe they do, they just don’t say anything.
The room continues talking around you but your mind is somewhere else. Months ago. Years ago, back when things were simpler. Back when you and Riki were inseparable. When you'd follow him everywhere. When danger felt exciting instead of terrifying. When the future wasn't something you had to worry about.
You think about those nights. When your life revolved around love, money and guns . No child depending on you. Just you and him. Then your hand moves over your stomach and the thought immediately changes. Because that's not what you want either.
You want this. The family, the life you've been dreaming about. You want lazy mornings and baby names. And growing old with Riki.
Your eyes slowly lift, people are still arguing. Riki is speaking now. For the first time in your life, you realize that maybe being feared isn't enough. Because no matter how powerful Riki is... no matter how many people obey him, no matter how many enemies he's buried. Somewhere out there is a person who isn't afraid of him.
The discussion only gets worse. Every time somebody disagrees with him, Riki patience gets thinner. It literally feels like a bomb waiting to go off.
"We should wait before relocating."
The sentence barely leaves one of the managers' mouths before Riki's head snaps toward him.
"Wait?"
The man visibly regrets speaking. "Boss, I'm just saying we don't know if—"
"You don't know if what?" Riki stands up so suddenly his chair slides backwards. "We don't know if they're serious?"
"They know where we live. They know where she shops. They know what car she drives."
The room gets very still. Riki laughs but there's no humor in it.
"You think I'm overreacting?"
Some of them do, the problem is nobody wants to tell him that. Unfortunately, one woman eventually does.
"Boss, with all due respect, we're not saying you're wrong. We're just saying that moving locations immediately might be—"
"Get the fuck out. If you don't want to help, get out."
"Boss—"
Riki points towards the door. "Out."
Riki's eyes move around the room. Everybody suddenly looks suspicious, like a possible threat. A possible reason somebody out there knows too much. The room starts talking again.
"Maybe you're just overreacting because—"
"They know she's pregnant!"
The words come out before he can stop them. Every single person in the room goes silent. Then suddenly everybody is looking at you and your eyes immediately fill with tears. You quickly stand up.
"I need a minute."
Your voice comes out smaller than intended. You leave before anyone can see the tears properly.
The hallway feels blessedly quiet. You make your way to your office. The second the door closes behind you, you let out a shaky breath. You lay down on the couch and stare at the ceiling. You don't even mean to fall asleep, but somehow you do.
—
A soft knock pulls you out of it. The building is quieter than before. Then the door opens and Riki walks in. He kneels beside the bed. His fingers slide into your hair, gently petting it back.
"Honey."
You blink sleepily. "Mm."
His thumb brushes your forehead. "I'm sorry."
Your eyes open properly. Riki sighs.
"We're moving."
"What?"
"Temporarily." He strokes your hair again. "We're moving to another house."
You sit up slightly. "What? I don't want to."
"I know."
"Riki I don’t—"
"I know."
His voice stays gentle, but voice he uses means he's already made a decision.
"There isn't room for arguments on this one."
You immediately frown. He reaches for your hand. "They know where we live. They know way too much. It’s dangerous. I'm not taking any chances."
"When are we going?"
"Now."
"What?"
"Now. We're not going back to the house."
You groan dramatically and cover your face. He gently pulls your hands away. "You can take whatever you need from here."
"My stuff is at home."
"You have enough stuff here to survive for six months."
Unfortunately, he's right. Half your life somehow ended up at the office over the years.
You sigh. Riki kisses your forehead. "Thank you."
You glare at him. He kisses your forehead again.
An hour later you're walking through the underground parking garage with two bags and a bad attitude. The building is unusually busy. Everybody treating the situation with a seriousness that makes your stomach hurt. Riki thanks several people on the way out. Which says enough by itself because Riki almost never thanks people.
By the time the car door closes behind you, the reality of it all is finally settling in. You're actually leaving. Not for a nice vacation. Because somebody made your home unsafe.
—
So this is how you ended up here. One month later. Living in a house that wasn't yours.
A house that was supposed to feel safe, instead it just felt temporary. The house itself wasn't bad, most people would probably call it incredible. It was huge, modern, hidden far away from the city. The problem was that it didn't feel like home. Your home was warm, brown and gold, dim lighting. This house felt cold and dark. Floor-to-ceiling windows but the curtains are closed most of the time.
Even after a month, you still caught yourself reaching for light switches that weren't there and opening the wrong cabinets. You missed your bathroom, your soft bed, everything. Most of all, you hated why you were here. Somebody wanted to hurt your family. Every time you remember, suddenly the house felt uncomfortable all over again.
The adjustment hadn't been easy. Especially because Riki trusted absolutely nobody anymore. The cook wasn't allowed to move with you, the maid wasn't either, the gardener stayed behind too. Riki had decided the fewer people who knew the location, the better.
Which meant that while he spent twelve hours a day working, you were left doing everything yourself. Things you'd never minded helping with before because you were at the office as well. But now it just felt lonely and the silence gave you too much time to think.
Unfortunately, your marriage wasn't doing much better. Not because either of you stopped loving each other. If anything, this whole situation only proved how much Riki loved you. That was the problem. His love had turned into fear, and fear had turned into control.
Suddenly there were rules. You couldn't leave without security, you couldn't drive yourself anywhere, you couldn't visit people, you couldn't make spontaneous plans. You couldn't do much of anything.
Every conversation somehow turned into an argument. Every argument somehow turned into Riki insisting he was trying to keep you safe. And every time he said that, you wanted to scream. You knew he was trying to protect you, but it felt like while you were preparing for a family and a future together, Riki had slipped right back into his old life. Meanwhile you were stuck in this weird middle position.
The only good thing was that the photos had stopped.
But the letters and calls still came. Every single week. Different numbers, different accounts, different handwriting. Always the same message.
Eventually everyone in the organization reached the same conclusion. The threats were connected to Kaizen. Nobody knew who exactly, where, or how many people. Just Kaizen. It was a dead end.
One of the worst moments happened during the second week. Your driver disappeared. One minute he was dropping somebody off, the next he was gone.
For exactly forty-eight hours.
When he finally reappeared, two security guards found him dumped on the side of a road in front of the office. His face was covered in bruises, one eye nearly swollen shut. And missing a finger. You'd never forget the look on Riki's face when he heard.
The driver insisted he hadn't told them anything. He'd been blindfolded the entire time. He didn't know where he was, didn't recognize any voices or heard any names. Nothing that could help. Just more proof that whoever was behind this wasn't playing games anymore.
—
It’s almost 11 p.m. when the front door finally unlocks. Riki steps inside looking exhausted, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. The house is dark except for the kitchen lights. You’ve spent the entire day alone in this house again. Riki crosses the room and kisses your forehead, then your lips quickly.
“Hey.”
You try to smile. "Hi."
That's all you manage. Riki studies your face for a moment, clearly noticing the lack of enthusiasm, but doesn't comment on it.
“I saved you dinner,” you say quietly, standing up before he can really look at you.
In the kitchen, you Open the fridge. Scoop leftovers onto a plate. Reheat them.
Riki leans against the counter watching you.
“How was your day?”
You shrug. “Fine.”
"Did you eat?"
"Mhm."
You don’t continue. So he tries again. “Did you go outside?”
“No.”
“You should’ve gone into the garden at least.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “The garden surrounded by guards and cameras? Yeah, sounds relaxing.”
You set the plate down harder than necessary. Then you stop moving entirely, a long sigh leaves you.
“I can’t do this.”
Riki straightens slightly. “Do what?”
“This.” You gesture between the two of you. “Pretend everything’s normal.”
“I know about Ren.”
His jaw tightens instantly. “Who told you?”
“Kenji.”
“You weren’t supposed to know that.” He says irritated.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap. “Was I supposed to keep living here like some clueless housewife while people are getting tortured because of us?”
“Lower your voice.”
“I don’t think anybody’s gonna hear us, Riki.”
Riki pushes off the counter. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you scared.”
You stare at him in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that. I’m so sick of hearing that.”
Riki scoffs and shakes his head.
“You don’t tell me things because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You lock me in this house because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You control where I go, who I see, whether I can leave the fucking property, and every time I say something you act like I’m unreasonable because you’re ‘protecting’ me.”
Riki’s jaw clenches. “Do you think I want this, y/n?”
“I don’t know what you want anymore!”
The words echo through the kitchen. Your hand slaps against the counter in frustration.
"I'm the same woman who used to run jobs with you."
"That was before."
You step closer. "You know I know how to keep myself safe because you've seen it."
"You're pregnant."
“I’m pregnant, not helpless. I hate asking permission to leave my own fucking house. I hate waking up every day feeling trapped.”
“You are not trapped.”
“It feels like a prison!”
“You’re alive.”
“And what kind of life is this?”
Riki’s voice rises now too. “A safe one.”
“I hate these fucking rules, Riki. I am not your child!"
"But you are carrying mine, aren’t you?!”
"Yes, and sometimes I really fucking I regret that!" you scream back. The words are out before you can stop them.
Riki just stares at you like he genuinely can't believe what he heard. "What did you say?"
His voice is quieter than before. You should stop. The second you saw the look on his face, you should've stopped. But you're too angry, too hurt.
"I said I regret it."
Riki blinks. "Baby."
His voice lowers, like he's trying to talk you down. "You're upset."
You laugh bitterly. "Oh my God."
"You're just angry."
"I'm not taking it back."
"You don't mean it."
You don't know what you mean. You just know everything hurts and you want him to hurt too. So you turn around and walk away.
"Fine." Your voice shakes. "I'm done talking."
"Baby—"
You ignore him. Already heading toward the stairs.
"Sleep on the couch."
Riki lets out a breath. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."
You spin around. "Yes, you are."
"No."
"Yes. Riki. You are!" You snap.
"No."
"I don't want you in our room."
Riki's jaw flexes. "Our room."
"Don't."
"I'm not sleeping on the couch."
You throw your hands up. "You're so fucking stubborn."
"And you're being unreasonable.”
You stare at him, then turn around before you say something even worse. A second later the bedroom door slams hard enough to shake the wall.
The house feels painfully quiet afterward. Riki stands alone in the kitchen. The untouched plate of food still sitting on the counter. He looks at it for a long moment, then sits down, takes one bite and stops. His appetite is completely gone. Your words keep replaying in his head. He rubs a hand over his face and lets out a long breath. He puts the untouched plate in the sink and heads upstairs.
The bedroom is dark when he enters. The only light comes from the bathroom door left slightly open. You don't acknowledge him. You're already under the blankets, lying on your side as far from his side of the bed as possible. Riki quietly changes clothes. Pulls on a pair of sweatpants, takes off his shirt, brushes his teeth.
Does everything as quietly as possible. Then finally gets into bed, the mattress shifts. Immediately you turn around.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The whisper-yell is somehow more aggressive than actual yelling.
Riki settles onto his pillow. "I'm going to sleep."
"I told you to sleep on the couch."
He closes his eyes. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."
"You're unbelievable."
No response. "Riki."
Still nothing. You sigh, long and very irritated. "You're fucking stubborn."
With an angry huff, you turn away again. Your back facing him. For a few minutes neither of you speaks.
Eventually you feel the mattress shift slightly. Riki moving closer, then his arm starts to move around your waist like it always does.You immediately push his hand away. The hand disappears and Riki doesn't try again.
Normally this would've been over by now. Normally one of you would've apologized. Or laughed, or given in. Neither of you ever really went to sleep angry. You don’t do that. Because living this kind of life, it could always somehow be your last day together.
But tonight you genuinely don't want to be touched. Or apologies or cuddles. You want as much space as possible.
Minutes pass, eventually Riki speaks.
"I love you."
Your eyes immediately sting. But instead of saying it back, you swallow hard and stay silent.
—
The next morning feels awful. Riki is already gone. No goodbye kiss, no hand brushing through your hair, o quiet I'll see you later. The guilt from last night immediately settles in your chest.
You can't stay here today. You need fresh air, people, something that isn't these four walls.
So before you can overthink it, you grab your phone and call Riki. The call only rings once.
"Yeah."
You sit down on the edge of the bed.
"Uhm. I was wondering... I wanted to maybe go out today?"
You immediately start rambling. "It doesn't have to be long. I just wanted to go to the mall for a bit and maybe look around and I can take security and—"
"You can go."
"What?"
"You can go."
His tone stays flat. "I'll send Ren."
"Oh."
"You don't have to explain."
Normally he'd tease you, ask what you wanted to buy or make a joke about you spending all his money. Now he just sounds tired.
"I'll have Ren pick you up."
"Okay."
"Be home by 6."
“Okay.”
The call ends.
The idea of leaving the house makes something inside you feel lighter. You practically jump out of bed. Finally something normal. You spend extra time getting ready, making sure you look extra good. For the first time in days, you actually feel excited about something.
Then the doorbell rings. Ren is waiting outside. You immediately notice how different he looks now. The bruises, and the missing finger is impossible to ignore.
"Goodmorning."
"Morning, ma'am."
His voice sounds strange.Before you can ask anything, he clears his throat. "Boss told me to tell you something."
"What?"
"He wants you to leave your phone at home."
"My phone?"
"So nobody can track you." That sounds exactly like something Riki would say. You sigh.
"Fine."
You go back inside and leave your phone on the kitchen counter.
Ren opens the car door for you and when the house slowly disappears behind you, you actually feel happy. The feeling doesn't last.
At first you're talking nonstop about random things. A store you want to visit, a dress you saw online, a bakery you miss. Ren barely says anything. His eyes stay fixed on the road. His shoulders look tense.
You slowly start talking less and then your gaze drifts toward his hand. The memory of what happened to him. Something uncomfortable settles in your stomach and you look away.
The car continues driving, and driving, and driving…
Eventually you glance out the window, your brows furrow. This isn't right. The route feels wrong. You know this city. You know where the mall is, and this isn't it.
You sit up slightly.
"Ren?"
You look out the window again. The roads and buildings are unfamiliar now. A cold feeling creeps up your spine. "Ren."
He keeps driving. Your heartbeat starts picking up. Maybe there's traffic?
"Ren, where are we going?" The excitement from earlier disappears instantly.
"Ren." This time your voice comes out sharper. "Where are you taking me?"
His hands tighten around the steering wheel, and then—
Click.
The doors lock.
Your stomach drops and for a second you just stare at him, your heartbeat suddenly pounding so hard you can hear it.
"Ren." He doesn't answer. The panic hits all at once. Your voice cracks. "Ren, what the fuck is happening?"
Your breathing speeds up. You grab the door handle anyway and pull it.
"Ren! I want to get out! Please stop the car!"
Tears are already running down your cheeks. Your hands shake as you pull at the handle again. "You're scaring me!"
Ren slams a hand against the steering wheel. "Stop yelling!" The outburst makes you jump.
"If you just cooperate, nothing will happen to you!"
You stare at him. "What?"
"Just work with me."
"What are you talking about?"
You start crying harder. "What are you doing?!"
Ren's grip tightens around the wheel, he looks like he might cry too. "They threatened my family."
Your heart drops. "What?"
"They threatened my family."
His voice shakes. "They found my wife, my kids. They said if I didn't do this..."
He sighs. "...they'd kill them."
You just stare at him, unable to process it. "Who? Who, Ren?"
The silence is answer enough.
"Please." You wipe at your tears. "Please tell me who."
Ren just shakes his head and keeps driving. Then suddenly he reaches forward, your entire body tenses. He unlocks the glove compartment and it falls open. Inside sits a filled syringe.
Your stomach immediately turns. You don't even have to ask.
"They told me to use it if you didn't cooperate."
Your hands instinctively move to your stomach. The baby. You immediately stop talking, you just turn your head toward the window. Tears sliding silently down your cheeks. Eventually your voice returns.
"Ren." He sighs. "What?"
"You've known us for years."
He closes his eyes briefly. You keep going. "You've worked for Riki for years. You know me." Your voice trembles. "I’m going to be a mother."
You wipe another tear away. "Please don't do this."
His eyes stay fixed on the road. "I don't have a choice."
"Everybody has a choice."
A painful laugh escapes him. "No. Not always."
You stare at him trying to find something. Some sign he might change his mind. But all you see is guilt. "Where are we going?"
He doesn't answer. "Ren… please."
You let out a shaky breath. "Am I going to die?"
For the first time since this started, Ren looks at you. And when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"I don't know, ma’am.”
For a few more minutes, you keep trying. Because what else are you supposed to do? Just sit there and let this happen?
"No, you know what?" Your voice shakes from crying. "You're fucking stupid. Do you have any idea what Riki is gonna do when he finds out? You think threatening your family is bad?"
A tear rolls down your cheek. "He's going to kill you."
The threat sounds weak the second it leaves your mouth, mostly because your voice cracks halfway through it because you’re still crying. Ren doesn't even react.
"He'll find me. He always finds people." The silence makes you even angrier.
"You know what your problem is?" you snap. "You think I'm some helpless wife. You think I'm just gonna sit here and cry."
Your breathing speeds up. "I can fight. I've been around this shit longer than you."
Then suddenly something clicks. Your stomach drops.
"Riki never told me to leave my phone." Your voice breaks. "Oh my God. You lied."
He says nothing. "You lied to me. You’re kidnapping me."
Ren has been your driver for years, you trusted him. The tears start again.
"How could you do this? How could you fucking do this?!"
Ren suddenly slams his palm against the steering wheel. "They're going to murder my family!"
The yell fills the entire car. You jump immediately. Your mouth snaps shut. Then you slowly cover your mouth with your hand ,trying to muffle the sob that escapes.
Meanwhile, back at the office, Riki has no idea.
He's sitting in another meeting. His attention keeps drifting to you, though. To your words from last night. A part of him wants to call you, just to hear your voice and make sure you're okay. But every time he reaches for his phone, he’d tell himself you’re just having a nice day out and he should leave you alone.
He promised himself something. He promised he'd try to give you space. Try to stop controlling every part of your life. You hated the cameras, the tracking, the constant security. So he'd started easing up.
The guy monitoring your location? Day off. The guards assigned to watch you? Day off. Several camera systems around the property? Disabled. For you. Because despite everything, all he wanted was for you to be happy.
Unfortunately, that decision couldn't have come at a worse time.
—
The car finally slows. You immediately sit up and your heartbeat starts racing again.
Outside, the surroundings look unfamiliar. Industrial and empty. The kind of place nobody accidentally ends up.
Ren parks and then looks at you. "If you cooperate..." His voice is barely above a whisper. "...nothing will happen."
You nod slowly. You wipe away your tears and take a shaky breath. "Okay."
But you're lying. The second you see your opportunity, you're running. No matter how many weapons or buff men, you’re running.
A few seconds later, headlights appear and doors open. Four men, all armed. One of them immediately approaches the car. The moment the door swings open, a hand grabs your arm hard. "Move."
You do. Just not the way they're expecting. The second your feet hit the ground, you twist. Your pointy heel comes down hard on the man's foot. He curses and ends slightly and that's all the opening you need. Your knee shoots upward. The man winces in pain and you rip your arm free.
You kick your heels off and run. Bare feet hitting rough pavement. Heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your body.
For one glorious second, you think it might work. Then somebody grabs the back of your arm. You yank away. Another hand catches your shoulder. Someone shouts. You keep fighting, keep twisting, keep trying. Then somebody catches your arm and a sharp impact slams against the side of your head.
Everything flashes white, the world tilts and voices become blurry. A second later everything goes black.
—
At five o'clock, Riki is completely unaware that anything is wrong. Every now and then, he checks the time. Five already. A small part of him still considers calling you. Then remembers last night, the way you'd refused to say I love you back.
You probably need space. And that's what he'd been trying to give you so he puts the phone back down. You must be home already. Probably unpacking shopping bags, maybe cooking dinner, maybe still annoyed at him.
But safe.
Meanwhile, your head feels like it's splitting in half.
The first thing you notice is the ringing in your ears and hen the pounding behind your eyes. Then your entire body feels cold. You groan softly. Everything is blurry. Nothing makes sense. For a while you just sit there trying to remember.
The car. Ren. Running.
The realization hits all at once and your eyes snap open. Your wrists immediately pull against something. Rope. Your hands are tied behind the chair , your ankles too. A cloth is tied tightly around your mouth.
The panic returns so quickly it makes you dizzy. You look around. The room looks abandoned. Concrete walls, one flickering light hanging from the ceiling, no windows. No way outt.
Four men stand around the room. The second they notice you're awake, one of them laughs.
"Look."
Another glances over. "Finally."
Your breathing starts speeding up. The chair scrapes loudly as you instinctively try to move.
Then another man enters your line of vision. Older than the others, maybe late forties. Well dressed and too calm. He smiles when he sees your eyes open.
"Well well." He slowly approaches. "Look who's awake."
You pull against the ropes again. The chair creaks underneath you. The man chuckles.
"You were out for so long we thought we killed you already."
Your heart pounds. The panic fully sets in, a muffled scream sounds behind the cloth.
The man sighs dramatically and then crouches down in front of you. "Relax."
You scream again, louder. The man reaches forward and he grabs your chin. Hard enough to stop your head from moving.
"Stop that. Your husband won't hear you from here."
The mention of Riki instantly breaks something inside you. Tears immediately fill your eyes. The man notices, he lets go of your face with a small push and smiles.
"Aw."
He slowly starts pacing like he's giving a presentation. “I don’t think you know me. I’m Kaito. Your husband killed a lot of important people, y/n."
His smile disappears. "My brother happened to be one of them."
He studies your expression. "You know what impressed me most?"
You stare at him. Tears running down now.
"How predictable the two of you are." His smile returns. "We followed you for months. Every luxury shop. Every restaurant. Every office meeting. No matter how many guards your husband hired, we always knew where you were."
You think about the months of fear. They'd really been watching the entire time.
"You know the funny part?" He tilts his head. "Your husband is actually very smart. He moved houses."
He shrugs. "Hired security. Changed routines." Then his smile widens. "But eventually he made the same mistake every man makes. He got comfortable."
The tears won't stop now. You can barely breathe. Hiro walks closer again.
"He turned off cameras, he sent guards home. All because he wanted to make you happy."
You shake your head desperately. The cloth muffles another sob. Hiro crouches beside you again. His voice lowering, almost gentle.
"Do you know how easy today was?"
The question makes your stomach turn. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that might somehow make him disappear.
"Your husband spent months building walls around you. And a few arguments were enough to make him tear them down himself."
When you open your eyes again, tears blur everything. Hiro looks completely satisfied like he's waited years for this moment.
By seven o'clock, Riki is finally heading home.
The entire day he's been replaying last night in his head. Thinking of things he should've said differently. By the time he reaches the house, he's already decided he's apologizing first. The front door opens, he kicks off his shoes, hangs up his coat, and immediately calls out,
"Baby?"
Silence, he frowns. Norrmally you'd answer, even if you were still angry, even if it’s just a hum. He walks further inside.
"Baby, I'm so sorry for—"
The words stop in his throat. The house looks exactly the same as when he left, like nobody had been here all day. A strange feeling settles in his chest.
"Baby?"
He walks into the kitchen, nothing. Garden, nothing. His pace quickens. Upstairs. Bathroom, empty. Bedroom, empty. Guest room, empty. His heart starts beating harder. Now he's calling your name louder. He checks the time. 7:03. You were supposed to be home by six. Ren knew that, you knew that.
So where the fuck are you?
Riki rushes downstairs and that's when he sees it. Your phone still sitting on the kitchen counter.
"What." He grabs it. "What the fuck—"
His heart drops straight into his stomach. His hands are already grabbing his own phone. Already dialing Ren. Every instinct in his body screaming that something is wrong.
Miles away, your head shoots up because you hear a ringtone.
Across the room, Ren is slumped against a concrete wall unconscious with his hands tied. The phone keeps ringing. Kaito glances toward the sound and slowly reaches into Ren's pocket.
Kaito pulls out the phone, looks at the screen and smiles.
"Oh."
He turns the phone toward you. The contact name fills the screen. Riki. The sight of it almost breaks you because now you know exactly what's happening. Riki's home, he's looking for you, he's freaking out.
The phone continues ringing and Kaito studies your face, amused like he's watching a show.
"Should I ignore it? Huh?"
You violently shake your head, tears flying. Please don't. But his smile only grows.
“No? So you wan’t me to answer?” You nod your head and tears spill down your cheeks.
The phone rings, until Kaito swipes across the screen to aswer and Riki's voice explodes through the speaker. "Ren, where is she?"
No hello. Pure panic. "Where the fuck is my wife?"
Even hearing his voice makes fresh tears spill down your face. Kaito glances at you, sill smiling. Then casually pulls a chair over and sits down directly in front of you, one leg over the other.
"Good evening, Boss."
"...Who is this?"
Kaito leans back comfortably. "Oh, we have plenty of time for introductions."
Kaito keeps smiling while Riki's breathing turns harsher through the phone.
"You trusted the wrong man," he says casually. "And now I have the thing you cherish most."
You immediately start screaming behind the gag. Trying to make noise, trying to make Riki hear you. On the other end of the line, Riki loses whatever control he had left.
"I'll kill you. I'll kill every fucking person in that building. Tell me where she is."
Kaito's smile fades slightly. "Careful, Boss. Threats don't work when I'm the one holding the gun."
Riki says something else, but Kaito simply lifts the phone away.
"I'll show you something."
And then he hangs up. Kaito slips the phone into his pocket, completely unbothered. You stare at him through tears.
A minute later, somewhere across the city, Riki's phone buzzes. A video, he opens it immediately.
The screen shows you tied to the chair with a gun pressed beside your head. Your face wet with tears. If you don't come alone, Kaito says, if you tell anyone, bring anyone, fight us, or try anything clever, your wife and your baby die. Then a location appears on screen.
For once in his life, Riki listens to an enemy. Because this isn't business, his wife’s life is at risk. He just grabs his keys and leaves.
At the warehouse, you sit trapped in the chair, waiting. You keep telling yourself the same thing over and over. Riki will come, Riki will bring his men, you’ll be safe. Your eyes close briefly as you try to steady your breathing. It'll be over soon.
Then you hear a car outside, a door slamming. Your heart jumps into your throat. Kaito glances toward the entrance. One of the armed men moves toward the front.
Outside, Riki reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a handgun. He shoves it into the waistband of his suit and heads for the warehouse door without slowing down. He pounds on it hard enough to rattle the metal. The door cracks open. A guard stands there, weapon visible.
"You alone?"
"Yes," Riki snaps. "Let me the fuck in!"
The man studies him for a second, then opens the door. The moment the entrance clears, Riki sees you tied to the chair. And your scream tears through the warehouse. "Riki!"
He moves immediately, trying to get to you. A guard blocks him before he gets halfway across the room. "Not so fast. Any weapon on you," he says. "Drop it."
For a second Riki hesitates. His eyes flick to you, to the gun beside your head.
Slowly, he reaches into his waistband and pulls out the pistol. It feels humiliating, but he lowers it to the concrete floor. The guard immediately kicks it away. The second the gun is kicked away, another man moves.
Riki barely has time to react before someone grabs both his wrists and yanks them behind his back. Instinct takes over and he twists violently, trying to break free. For a split second, it almost works. But the man standing in front of him swings the butt of his gun and it lands hard against the side of Riki's head.
Your breath catches. "Riki!"
Riki groans in pain and his knees nearly buckle. Blood immediately appears near his temple, running down the side of his face. The man behind him tightens his grip and forces his arms higher. "Stop moving."
"Get your fucking hands off me."
Kaito sighs dramatically. "I told you not to fight. It's five against one."
He gestures around the room. "You're not winning this."
The men force Riki forward toward you. One of the men shoves him down. Riki hits the concrete on both knees.
He's only a few meters away now. Close enough to see every tear on your face, close enough to notice your shaky breathing. But too far away to reach you. You stare at him. Your vision blurs again.
"Riki..."
The cloth turns it into a muffled sob.
His tone immediately softens even now.
"It's okay, baby." Blood still running down the side of his face. "Trust me."
You shake your head desperately, tears falling faster. His eyes stay locked on yours.
"You'll be okay."
Kaito laughs, then grabs a handful of Riki's hair and forces his head upward. His fingers brush the fresh blood near Riki's temple.
"You really believe that?" Kaito asks.
Riki jerks away from him immediately. His eyes dark.
"If you touch her—"
"Listen." Kaito cuts him off.
The smile finally disappears from his face. "You killed my brother."
"I remember the phone call, I remember identifying the body, I remember seeing my nieces cry."
You can feel the hatred pouring out of him now. "I wasn't important enough for anyone to look at. Which worked out pretty well for me."
His eyes move toward you. "Because it gave me time. Every picture, every threat. That was me. I followed you both for months. Waiting for the perfect moment to get revenge.”
He looks directly at Riki. "It surprised me hard it was to find your weak spot. But then it happened..."
His eyes slowly move down to your stomach. Everything inside you freezes.
"...the baby."
Immediately you start struggling again. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor and a muffled cry escapes you.
"No—"
Riki visibly flinches. Kaito notices both reactions and smiles.
"See? There it is. That's the one."
Riki's entire body goes rigid. "If this is about me then leave them out of it."
"Leave them out of it? After everything I’ve worked for? The stalking, the months of paranoia, the kidnapping. It worked exactly how I wanted."
You feel sick. Because he's right, every piece led here. Riki's eyes never leave you. Almost like he's trying to memorize your face, preparing for something.
Kaito turns back toward him.
"And now you're alone. You came exactly where I wanted."
Kaito takes a gun from one of the men. He turns and presses the gun gently against the side of your head. Everybody’s breath catches.
"Since you took something from me..." Kaito says quietly. "...I think it's only fair I take something from you."
"NO!" Riki's voice explodes through the room.
He tries to get up, a guard immediately slams a fist into his side. The hit forces the air from his lungs and he groans.
"Please."
The word falls from his mouth before he can stop it. And everyone hears it. The feared boss, the man who’s never said thank you. Begging.
"Please. Don't touch her."
And sitting there with tears streaming down your face, staring at the blood on his temple and the panic in his eyes, you realize he's just as scared as you are.
Kaito studies the panic on both of your faces for a moment before slowly lowering the gun from your head. He starts pacing again, the gun hanging loosely at his side.
"You know," he says, almost conversationally, "when my brother got shot, everybody talked about him. They talked about his empire. His money. His power."
A humorless laugh leaves him. "But nobody talked about his daughters. Funny, isn't it?"
He tilts his head. "A child growing up without a father." His gaze locks onto Riki. "Does that sound familiar to you?"
The words hit harder than any punch. You immediately start shaking your head.
"No. No, please..."
Your voice is barely understandable through the tears. Riki drops his head.
"What do you want, Riki?" Kaiten says.
Riki slowly looks up. Kaito points the gun toward you.
"Her life?" Then toward Riki. "Or yours?"
"If she dies," Kaito continues, "you live. You get to spend the rest of your life remembering this moment. Remembering your wife. Remembering your unborn child."
Your breathing becomes shaky. Kaito then points the gun at Riki.
"If you die... they live."
You immediately let out a sob. "No."
"But your child grows up without a father and your wife becomes a widow."
Riki just stares at the floor, then at you, his eyes glassy. The thought of either option makes you feel sick. Kaito waits and waits. When neither of you answers, his patience begins to crack.
"Answer me."
Silence. "Answer me..."
"ANSWER ME, RIKI."
Riki closes his eyes. Kaito strides forward and puts the gun beneath Riki's chin, forcing his head upward. Riki slowly opens his eyes.
Then Kaito smiles.
"You know what?" He takes a step back. "I'll let both of you decide."
He gestures toward the men beside you. One of them immediately crouches down, a knife cuts the ropes around your wrists fall away. Your arms immediately drop, numb and aching. The ropes around your ankles follow. At the same time, one of the guards gives Riki a shove between the shoulder blades.
The second you're free, you're moving. You practically fall into him. Your knees hit the concrete and you're in his arms. Finally, but at what cost.
The first sound that leaves you is a broken sob. Riki catches you immediately, one arm around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head. Holding you so tightly like it’s the last time. Your face presses against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat.
"Riki..." Your voice breaks completely. "I'm so sorry."
He immediately shakes his head but you keep going. The words pour out between sobs.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it."
"I know."
"I didn't mean any of it, I do want this. I want our family. I want our baby."
His hand slides into your hair. "I know… I know."
Another sob, you can barely breathe. Tears are running down his face now too, though he barely seems to notice. You cup his face with both hands.
"I love you so much." The words come out trembling. "So much."
His eyes immediately close for a second. Hearing that physically hurts because he doesn't know if he'll ever hear it again.
"I love you too." His forehead presses against yours.
Then—
BANG.
The gunshot explodes through the warehouse ceiling. Both of you jump violently. You instinctively bury yourself against Riki's chest and his arms immediately wrap around you.
Kaito lowers the gun and rolls his eyes. "Touching."
Kaito checks his watch. "You have three minutes."
Your stomach twists. Three minutes. Three minutes to decide something impossible.
"If you don't choose..." He shrugs. "...I'll choose myself."
The silence afterward feels endless. And as the reality of those words settles over the room, you cling to Riki even tighter. Because suddenly three minutes feels like the shortest amount of time in the world.
The moment Kaito says they have three minutes, something inside you completely breaks.
"No—"
Your voice cracks. Sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. Your fingers clutch at Riki's suit desperately, holding onto him like if you let go for even a second he'll disappear. The thought alone makes you feel sick.
"No, no, no..."
Your whole body shakes. Riki immediately pulls you closer.
"Baby." His hands cup your face. "Hey."
You can't even look at him. Because the second you do, it feels like goodbye.
"Look at me."
You shake your head. "No."
"Baby." His thumbs wipe tears from your cheeks. "Look at me."
Eventually your eyes lift. The second they meet his, more tears spill over, because he's crying too.
You know exactly what he's thinking and you hate it.
"Listen to me." His voice is gentle. The same voice he uses when you're sick, when you're upset. "You have to take care of our baby."
Immediately you start shaking your head again. "No."
"You do." His forehead presses against yours. "You have to."
"No, Riki."
"I want you to live."
His hand slides down to your stomach. The gesture destroys you. "I want both of you to live."
Your hand immediately covers his as if you're trying to stop him.
"You'll be okay."
"No." His lips brush your forehead. "You will."
A kiss to your temple. "You're strong." A kiss to your cheek. "You always tell me that."
Your shoulders shake harder. "Stop."
"You know how to take care of yourself."
"Stop it ."
"You'll be an amazing mother."
"Riki, stop."
His voice breaks slightly. "You'll live the life we talked about."
At that, you completely lose it. The sound that leaves your throat barely sounds human. You bury your face against his neck and cry harder, because he's talking like he's already gone. Like he's already made peace with it, he's already saying goodbye.
Kaito glances at his watch. "Time's almost up."
You immediately grab Riki tighter. "No."
His arms wrap around you. One hand rubbing your back, the other the side of your face. He can't stop touching you. His eyes close briefly. He's memorizing this. The feeling of your hair, your scent, the weight of your body against his, the warmth of you. The child you carry. Everything.
"It'll be okay."
His voice is quieter now. Almost a whisper. "You'll finally get that peaceful life."
You immediately pull back. "No. Stop."
"You will. You deserve it."
Your hands grab his face. "I want you a life with you, Riki."
Kaito sighs loudly, clearly annoyed. Then he starts counting.
"Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight."
"No."
You turn toward Kaito so quickly your neck hurts. "Take me."
Riki immediately stiffens. "No baby."
"Just take me!" Your voice echoes through the room. Tears running down your face. "Please!"
Riki grabs your shoulders. "Y/n stop."
"Take me!"
His arms immediately lock around you, holding you against his chest. "Stop."
"No!" You struggle trying to pull away from him.
Eventually he places a hand over your mouth. Just to stop you from saying it. Because he cannot listen to you offer your own life. Your cries become muffled ,you hit weakly against his chest trying to fight him. But you're exhausted, you’re terrified and drained.
Eventually your strength gives out. You stop fighting and Riki slowly removes his hand.
The second he does, you throw your arms around his neck. He immediately hugs you back.
"Baby..." His thumb brushes your cheek. "I need you to listen to me."
He looks at you, his eyes glistening like he’s looking at the most precious thing in the world.
"I loved every day with you."
Your face crumples immediately. "No Riki don’t say that—"
"I mean it." A small smile appears. The saddest smile you've ever seen. "I loved every single day."
His breathing shakes, a tear slides down his temple. His hand finds your stomach.
"The day I met you... I had no idea you'd become my whole life."
You can't breathe.
"I need you." The words burst out of you. "I need you, Riki."
Your hands grab his face. "I can't do this without you. I can’t.”
"Yes you can. You're the strongest woman I've ever met."
Your entire body shakes. "No."
"You are. You’re stronger than me, baby, trust me. You survived me."
That almost makes both of you laugh weakly.
His forehead presses against yours. "You'll raise our baby."
A sob escapes you.
"You'll tell them about me. You'll tell them how annoying I was."
"No."
"You'll tell them how much I loved you."
"Stop."
"I'll always be with you." The words come out quietly. You immediately start crying harder.
"I'll look for you. In your dreams."
"No. No Riki I can’t—"
"I'll remind you I'm still around."
You're fully hysterical now. Sobbing so hard your words don't even make sense anymore.
"No, no, no, no, no..."
"TEN." Kaito's voice echoes through the warehouse.
Your arms are wrapped around Riki's neck so tightly your muscles hurt. His forehead is pressed against your shoulder.
"Nine."
His hands move to your face, making you look at him. "Riki..."
Somehow he still manages to smile. That smile he only ever gave you and nobody else ever got. That smile you hope your baby has gotten from him.
"I'll love you forever."
Your face immediately crumples. "Riki… no."
His thumb wipes away another tear. "Say it back, baby. Say it back to me."
His forehead presses against yours again.
"I love you.” You manage to say between sobs. “I love you so much.”
A tear slips down his cheek.
“Five.”
And suddenly he's kissing you. So deeply, he's trying to put every feeling he's ever had for you into one final kiss. Your hands immediately find his face. His neck, his hair. Anywhere.
You kiss him back through tears. Through the realization that this is probably the last time. The last kiss, and neither of you wants to let go.
"One."
Kaito's voice cuts through the room. The kiss breaks.
Then—
Zero.
Kaito moves so fast you barely register it, and suddenly Riki jerks. A strangled sound leaves him. Your eyes widen.
A knife is buried deep beneath his ribs. Kaito immediately steps back and blood begins spreading across Riki's shirt.
"No!" The scream tears out of you.
The entire warehouse disappears in front of your eyes. Nothing exists except him in your arms. His head lands in your lap. Blood is already soaking your clothes.
"Riki."
He coughs, blood appears at the corner of his mouth. Your heart shatters. Your hands shake so badly you can barely hold his face.
"I'm here." You don't even know why you're saying it. "I'm here."
Another cough escapes from him. Another painful breath. His eyes stay locked on yours like he wants your face to be the last thing he sees. You start crying harder.
"I love you. I love you so much."
His lips twitch. Almost a smile, almost. Then his hand slowly lifts, weak and shaky, trying to reach you. You immediately grab it and press his palm against your cheek. His thumb barely moves against your skin. The weakest little movement but you feel it.
His eyes begin drifting through you. Somewhere else.
His mind drifts to the day he met you. To your wedding. The first time he slept with you. To when he taught you how to fight and he used to let you win. Late nights cuddling in bed. When he introduced you at the office. The arguments. Slow dancing in the living room. Running jobs with you. The baby. The future. The life you were supposed to have.
The life that was supposed to keep going.
His hand starts slipping. You immediately grab it, putting it back against your face.
"No." Your voice cracks. "Stay with me."
His eyes find yours one final time, and suddenly he looks peaceful. Then his chest rises one last time. His eyes remain on yours, but something changes, he just disappears. Riki isn't there anymore.
"No." Your hands grab his face and tap his cheek gently. "Riki, baby.”
Your breathing becomes frantic. "Riki… please.”
Your voice breaks. Tears falling onto his face.
"Please wake up."
There are still people in the room, still footsteps and distant voices, preparing to leave this situation behind as fast as possible. But none of it reaches you. The world has narrowed down to the weight in your lap, to the face you've loved for years.
You don't know how much time passes. Maybe seconds, maybe hours. You just sit there.
A part of you refuses to believe it. Any second now he'll groan and tell you you're being dramatic. Any second now he'll wake up. He always wins.
Your fingers brush through his hair, sticky with blood now, but you don’t care, you smooth it back anyway. The same way you always did when he was stressed or when he fell asleep on your chest.
You lower your forehead against his and cold tears fall onto his skin. Your hand finds his, it feels heavier now, lifeless. You lace your fingers through his anyway.
Nothing about this feels real. You bend over him, pressing a trembling kiss against his forehead. One last time.
"I love you Riki." The words come out broken.
"Forever."
You don’t get an answer. The words just hangs in the air.
Outside, the world keeps moving. Rain falls, cars drive by. People laugh, people dance. Dogs bark, birds chirp. Life just continues. Completely unaware that yours has just ended.
You close your eyes and hold him tighter. You place one hand on your stomach. You were so close to a perfect future with him, and it left you in less than a second. The old house filled with jazz music. The family dinners. Gone.
But beneath your hand, there is still a piece of him. Your child. And for the first time since Kaito started counting, you finally understand why he made his choice.
Even when Riki was terrified for what was coming. Even when it meant losing everything.
He chose you.
✦
xtra note: I just realized I completely forgot to write about the little girls from the last past omg... SORRY. I was too focused on dada's death. the girls are fine ;)
when you and riki finally get to begin building a peaceful future, something threatens to destroy it all.
⌛️pairing: yakuzahusband!riki x yakuzawife!reader
contains: fluff heavy angst hurt pregnancy betrayal reader gets held hostage threats violence stalking stab wound blood murder character death no happy ending
🗒️vaeh’s note: this is first heavy angst I've written and omg guys I was tearing up writing this im deadass.
its even better if you start from part one! but its not necessary for this fic.
The past three months had honestly been the best three months of your marriage.
Not perfect, Riki's life would probably never allow for perfect. You still had to spend days in boring meetings about drugs and cash. People still feared him. Problems still landed on his desk every day.
But after that night, the night Kento died. The two of you had talked for hours that night. About the future. About fear, about what kind of man he wanted to be, about what kind of life the two of you wanted together.
Riki was still Riki, but he started trying.
He worked less. Handing responsibilities off whenever he could. He stopped attending meetings that didn't absolutely require his presence.
Sometimes you'd walk into his office expecting to find him buried in paperwork, only to find him stretched out on the couch waiting for you because he'd decided he'd worked enough for the day.
You'd gotten closer too. Not that the two of you had ever struggled with affection, with Riki practically living attached to your side. But the two of you spent more time together than ever before. You'd never been closer. Never been more in love.
Tonight was one of those nights. Riki had given the cook the evening off apparently because he wanted to cook himself.
Though you were pretty sure part of the reason was that he wanted an excuse to walk around the house shirtless all evening. The man wasn't subtle. He'd spent the entire time cooking in nothing but comfortable black pants and a dark robe hanging open over his shoulders.
Now dinner was finished. The two of you sat across from each other at the dining table.
Your foot kept brushing against his leg underneath it, ack and forth. Sometimes around his ankle, sometimes up his calf. Riki kept acting like he wasn't affected by it but the slight smirk on his face said otherwise.
Until eventually Riki stood up and collected both plates.You shake your head immediately.
"You cooked. I'll clean."
"No." His answer came before you'd even finished speaking.
"Riki."
"No." He gently squeezed the back of your neck as he walked past. "You go relax. Go take a bath." You looked up at him. "A bath?"
"Mhm." His thumb brushed your skin. "I'll clean everything up."
So while Riki disappeared toward the kitchen, you headed upstairs.
The master bathroom was probably one of the prettiest rooms in the entire house. Everything about it felt warm. A massive soaking tub sat beneath an arched window. Across from it is a long marble vanity cluttered with expensive perfumes, skincare products, and the little decorative items you collected over the years.
You turn on the faucet and watch steaming water begin filling the tub.Soft jazz starts playing from the speaker on the vanity and light a candle next.
You grabbed the shower gel and squeezed a few drops into the running water. Probably more than necessary, but you liked the sweet vanilla smell. The bubbles started forming immediately.
Then your eyes drifted toward the mirror. You stood in front of it and your silk robe slid from your shoulders. You turned slightly sideways and one hand settled against your lower stomach. Studying your reflection. A small smile pulled at your lips.
The tub was nearly full now. You stepped out of the robe completely and carefully lowered yourself into the water. With a quiet sigh, you leaned back against the tub and closed your eyes.
By the time you come downstairs, your hair is still damp from the bath, falling over your shoulders. A butter-yellow nightgown brushes against your thighs with every step. The matching robe hangs open and loose around your body, and your gold necklace rests against your skin, the pendant disappearing into the neckline.
The house is quiet except for the sound of Riki moving around the kitchen. He's wiping down the counter when he hears soft footsteps behind him. Before he can turn around, two arms suddenly wrap around his waist. Riki lets out a surprised chuckle.
"There she is."
You squeeze him tighter. His hand immediately settles over yours. Standing on your toes, you lean up and press a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you for doing the dishes."
"Hm. You're welcome." You smile against his shoulder before letting go.
In the old wooden cabinet in the corner of the rooms stands a radio and a collection of CDs you've both gathered over the years. You open it, flipping through them until you find the one you're looking for. A second later, old jazz music fills the room. You turn the volume up a little higher than necessary.
Riki is still standing in the kitchen looking directly at you. His eyes slowly travel over your figure. Taking his time. You fight back a smile, then hold both hands out toward him. No words needed. Riki immediately knows what you want. You wiggle your fingers impatiently.
"Come here."
He laughs softly, then starts walking toward you.
His hands slide around your waist underneath the robe. Warm palms settling against your sides. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck.
And the two of you slowly start moving to the music. Your bare are feet gliding across the cold marble floor. Riki's gaze never really leaves your face, just admiring your beauty. His thumb brushes absentmindedly against your side.
Eventually one of his hands leaves your waist, sliding up to smooth a few damp strands of hair behind your ear. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile immediately and rest your head against his shoulder. Riki's chin settles lightly on top of your head and you both close your eyes.
Neither of you talks, just feel hum of the music and the warmth of your bodies so close together and keep swaying slowly through the living room.
After a moment, he buries his face against the side of your neck and takes a good sniff.
"Mm. You smell so good."
You chuckle softly. His voice is muffled against your skin. "You smell like vanilla."
"That's because I just spent an hour bathing in vanilla."
"Hm."
One of his hands slides upward and catches on your necklace. His finger traces the thin gold chain, following it all the way down before letting it slip through his fingers again. He holds your chin lightly between his index finger and his thumbb and he looks at you for a second, before his hands start wandering off again.
They slide slowly down your spine and he lets them rest on your lower back. You can feel how relaxed he is. A version of him almost nobody else ever gets to see.
And that's when your stomach flips, because you've been waiting for the right moment all evening. Maybe all week. Every time you'd almost said it, something interrupted. A phone call. A meeting. A visitor. But now it's just the two of you and you can't keep it to yourself anymore.
"Riki."
"Hm?" His eyes stay closed.
"I have to tell you something."
That gets his attention. He pulls back slightly. Both hands settling properly on your sides as he looks down at you. "What?"
For a second you can't speak. Your throat feels tight, your eyes already sting. Which is ridiculous. You've rehearsed this conversation in your head a hundred times. Yet now that it's actually happening, all your words disappear.
Riki notices immediately and his expression shifts. Concern replacing the relaxed smile.
"Baby?"
You let out a shaky laugh. Then another. And somehow that turns into tears. His eyebrows pull together instantly. "Hey." One hand comes up to your cheek. "What’s wrong?"
You shake your head. Nothing’s wrong. A laugh escapes you through the tears.
Then finally—
"I'm pregnant."
The room suddenly feels very quiet. Riki just looks at you like his brain is trying to catch up.
"Really?" The smile starts before he even finishes speaking. You nod.
Tears immediately spilling over. "Yes." Your voice wobbles. "I took a test a few days ago."
Then he laughs. Completely caught off guard. His hands grab your face.
"Really?" You start laughing too. "Yes, really."
The smile on his face gets even bigger. You don't think you've ever seen him smile like that before. Then suddenly his hands slide to your waist. Before you can react, you're lifted completely off the ground.
"Riki!" He spins you around once and your laughter fills the room. For one of the only times in his life, he feels like nothing else in the world matters. Just you and the tiny secret you've been carrying for days.
—
The next few months felt like a completely different life for both of you.
The pregnancy changed everything. The way he'd suddenly become interested in things he'd never cared about before. Doctors appointments. Baby names. Cribs. Tiny clothes. Tiny clothes especially. You caught him staring at baby shoes for ten straight minutes once, then pretending he wasn't.
It was the happiest you'd ever seen him. Genuinely. Even the people around him noticed. His employees noticed. His men noticed. The people in the office definitely noticed.
Especially his assistant Kenji. Poor Kenji nearly had a heart attack the first time Riki thanked him for something. A simple thank you. That's all it was. Yet Kenji had stood there looking so confused that Riki ended up laughing at him. The entire office talked about it for a week.
Things were good, really good. You were building a family. A future. The kind of future the two of you had spent years talking about. For the first time in a long time, everything felt settled. Like the universe had finally decided to leave you alone.
But of course it didn't.
It started with a letter. A plain white envelope sitting on Riki's desk one morning. No return address, no name. Just a single sheet of paper inside. The message was short: He'd pay for murdering Kaizen.
Riki barely reacted. He read it once, scoffed. Then tossed it straight into the shredder. Threats weren't exactly new to him. People had threatened to kill him before. Threatened to torture him. Threatened to burn down his businesses. Threatened to wipe out his entire bloodline. Compared to some of those, this letter was nothing. So he ignored it.
Then another one came. And another. The messages got longer, more personal. He still ignored them. Then the phone calls started. At first they only came to his office. The receptionist would transfer them through. Riki would answer, a distorted voice would start talking. Threats, promises and warnings. The first few times he hung up immediately.
Eventually he stopped reacting altogether, but they kept coming. Then they got his personal number. That was when things became annoying.
The calls started arriving in the middle of the night. Two in the morning, or thee, sometimes four. The phone vibrating on the bedside table waking both of you up. Riki would immediately grab it before you could, step into the hallway, come back five minutes later and tell you it was nothing. Just work.
You knew he was lying, but not about what.
Then the photos appeared. The first one arrived in another envelope. A picture of Riki sitting in his office, taken from outside the building. The second showed him getting into his car after work. The third showed him walking through the front gate of your home. The fourth showed him standing beside you. That one made his stomach drop.
Still, he tried to brush it off to you. Every time you asked if everything was okay, he'd pull you closer and tell you not to worry. Every time you looked nervous, he'd promise nobody would touch you. Nobody would touch the baby. Nobody would touch his family.
And he meant it.
But privately? Privately, Riki was worried.
Because Kaizen wasn't some random man he'd crossed years ago. Kaizen had power, connections, loyal people. The kind of people willing to wait months for revenge. The kind of people patient enough to make a man paranoid before making a move.
So even while he insisted everything was under control, changes started happening. Extra security around the house. More cameras. New locks. Stricter visitor checks at the office. Kenji suddenly having two security men following him everywhere.
Nobody complained. The thing that truly unsettled them wasn't the threats. It was Riki. The fact that he was taking the threats seriously. The fact that sometimes they'd catch him staring at security footage longer than necessary. Checking camera angles.
And if Riki was worried? Then everybody else had a reason to be worried too.
The thing that finally broke him was a text message that came in the middle of the afternoon while he was working.
Unknown number. Seven photos of you. His stomach dropped instantly.
The first was you walking through a shopping district. The second was you getting coffee. The third was you leaving one of the organization's office buildings. The fourth was you stepping into your car. The fifth was taken so close he could make out the necklace around your neck.
By the seventh photo, Riki was already standing. His chair slammed backward. Kenji looked up from across the room.
"Boss?"
Riki didn't answer. His jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He stormed out of his office. Kenji immediately followed.
"Boss?"
"Meeting room." His voice was deadly calm, which somehow sounded worse than yelling. "Get everyone."
"Everyone?"
Riki stopped walking and turned around. The look he gave Kenji was enough. "Now."
Kenji was already reaching for his phone before Riki turned back around. Within minutes, the conference room was filling up. People rushed in from every floor of the building. Department heads. Security teams. Investigators. People who normally wouldn't be in the same room together. Nobody even bothered sitting down.
Riki stood at the end of the table. Furious. When the last person entered, he threw the phone onto the table. The pictures lit up across the screen. Nobody spoke.
"Find them." His voice echoed through the room. "I don't care who they are. Find them."
One of the security managers finally cleared his throat.
"Boss, we've already been investigating—"
Riki slammed his fist into the table. Several people visibly flinched. "I don't give a fuck. My wife is being followed."
“Boss—”.
"Try harder. Check every camera. Every employee."
Another fist hit the table. "Every fucking person that has entered this city if that's what it takes."
The room remained frozen because everybody knew this wasn't about business anymore. This wasn't about power or money. This was about you. And everybody in the organization knew there was one thing Riki loved more than himself. One thing he'd burn the entire city down for.
You.
The meeting lasted three hours. For the first time since the threats started, even the most experienced people in the room looked worried. Because of Riki.
And unfortunately, things only got worse. The threats kept coming, the photos kept coming. No matter what security measures were added, no matter how many people were assigned to investigate. Nothing stopped.
And slowly, it started affecting everything. Including your marriage. Arguments became more frequent. One night you'd ended up crying in the middle of the kitchen floor because you were exhausted. Things had finally been good and now it felt like someone was stealing that happiness piece by piece.
"I'm so scared." You'd admitted it quietly with tears running down your face.
"I just wanted things to be normal now." Riki had pulled you into his arms immediately because he wanted the same thing.
He started insisting. Security everywhere, at all times. You couldn't go shopping alone. You couldn't go to appointments alone. You couldn't even go get coffee alone anymore. A guard followed you everywhere.
You hated it, absolutely hated it. It made you feel trapped. But every time you argued, Riki only got more stubborn. Because every time another photo appeared on his phone, all he could think about was what happened if one day it wasn't just a photo.
So eventually you stopped fighting him because you saw what it was doing to him. How tired he looked, how often he checked his phone, how often he checked the security cameras. How many nights he stayed awake staring at the ceiling. At one point he'd even assigned somebody to monitor your location whenever you left the house. The poor guy probably knew your daily routine better than you did.
You thought it was ridiculous. Riki thought it wasn't enough. Which was how you ended up back at the office. Just like old times. Sitting through meetings that bored you to death. Listening to people discuss violent things you used to care about, before you found out you were going to be a mother.
—
Then came the threat that changed everything.
The drive home from the office had been quiet. Just you and Riki in the backseat while the city lights passed by outside. Your head rested against his shoulder. One of his hands was loosely wrapped around yours. By the time the car pulls into the driveway, you're already looking forward to getting inside, kick off your heels and relax.
Riki steps out first, then helps you out. The security guards do their usual check. Everything looks normal. Your driver, Ren, stays by the car while Riki walks you toward the front door. His arm settles around your shoulders automatically. He pulls his keys from his pocket, then his phone vibrates. He unlocks his screen and freezes immediately.
"Riki?"
He doesn't answer, his eyes are locked on the screen. You look down and your blood runs cold. A photo taken seconds ago. The picture shows the two of you standing exactly where you are now. In front of your own front door, riki holding his keys, you standing beside him.
The message underneath makes your stomach drop.
UNKNOWN: You, your wife and your baby are no longer safe here.
Your hand immediately flies to your mouth. "Oh my God."
You look around the property, the trees, the neighboring houses. Every corner suddenly feels dangerous.
"How do they know?" You whisper. Your eyes fill with tears instantly. "Nobody knows."
Nobody was supposed to know. The pregnancy hadn't been announced, the organization didn't even know. Yet somehow... they knew. Riki's jaw clenches. You can practically feel the anger radiating off him. But underneath it is real fear. For you, for the baby.
He immediately grabs your hand.
"Back in the car." You stare at him. "Now."
He turns you around and practically guides you back to the car, your heels quickly click against the stone. Ren sees your faces and immediately opens the door. Riki climbs in after you and slams the door shut.
"Office." Ren is already pulling away. His hand is shaking slightly, something you almost never see. He calls Kenji.
"Boss?"
"They know about the pregnancy."
"What?"
"We’re coming back." Riki rubs a hand over his face. "I want guards waiting outside when we arrive."
“Okay, sir.”
"Close every blind. Nobody enters the building without clearance."
"Understood."
The call ends.
Security guards line the office building’s entrance when you arrive. The second your car stops, two guards surround it, escorting the two of you inside. The emergency meeting starts less than ten minutes later. People practically run into the conference room. The moment Riki walks in and tells them about the picture, conversations erupt immediately. Suggestions, questions, plans, investigations.
You sit beside Riki and try to pay attention, but after a while the voices start blending together. Your eyes drift down to your hands resting on the table, your wedding ring catches the light. A tear slides down your cheek. Nobody notices, or maybe they do, they just don’t say anything.
The room continues talking around you but your mind is somewhere else. Months ago. Years ago, back when things were simpler. Back when you and Riki were inseparable. When you'd follow him everywhere. When danger felt exciting instead of terrifying. When the future wasn't something you had to worry about.
You think about those nights. When your life revolved around love, money and guns . No child depending on you. Just you and him. Then your hand moves over your stomach and the thought immediately changes. Because that's not what you want either.
You want this. The family, the life you've been dreaming about. You want lazy mornings and baby names. And growing old with Riki.
Your eyes slowly lift, people are still arguing. Riki is speaking now. For the first time in your life, you realize that maybe being feared isn't enough. Because no matter how powerful Riki is... no matter how many people obey him, no matter how many enemies he's buried. Somewhere out there is a person who isn't afraid of him.
The discussion only gets worse. Every time somebody disagrees with him, Riki patience gets thinner. It literally feels like a bomb waiting to go off.
"We should wait before relocating."
The sentence barely leaves one of the managers' mouths before Riki's head snaps toward him.
"Wait?"
The man visibly regrets speaking. "Boss, I'm just saying we don't know if—"
"You don't know if what?" Riki stands up so suddenly his chair slides backwards. "We don't know if they're serious?"
"They know where we live. They know where she shops. They know what car she drives."
The room gets very still. Riki laughs but there's no humor in it.
"You think I'm overreacting?"
Some of them do, the problem is nobody wants to tell him that. Unfortunately, one woman eventually does.
"Boss, with all due respect, we're not saying you're wrong. We're just saying that moving locations immediately might be—"
"Get the fuck out. If you don't want to help, get out."
"Boss—"
Riki points towards the door. "Out."
Riki's eyes move around the room. Everybody suddenly looks suspicious, like a possible threat. A possible reason somebody out there knows too much. The room starts talking again.
"Maybe you're just overreacting because—"
"They know she's pregnant!"
The words come out before he can stop them. Every single person in the room goes silent. Then suddenly everybody is looking at you and your eyes immediately fill with tears. You quickly stand up.
"I need a minute."
Your voice comes out smaller than intended. You leave before anyone can see the tears properly.
The hallway feels blessedly quiet. You make your way to your office. The second the door closes behind you, you let out a shaky breath. You lay down on the couch and stare at the ceiling. You don't even mean to fall asleep, but somehow you do.
—
A soft knock pulls you out of it. The building is quieter than before. Then the door opens and Riki walks in. He kneels beside the bed. His fingers slide into your hair, gently petting it back.
"Honey."
You blink sleepily. "Mm."
His thumb brushes your forehead. "I'm sorry."
Your eyes open properly. Riki sighs.
"We're moving."
"What?"
"Temporarily." He strokes your hair again. "We're moving to another house."
You sit up slightly. "What? I don't want to."
"I know."
"Riki I don’t—"
"I know."
His voice stays gentle, but voice he uses means he's already made a decision.
"There isn't room for arguments on this one."
You immediately frown. He reaches for your hand. "They know where we live. They know way too much. It’s dangerous. I'm not taking any chances."
"When are we going?"
"Now."
"What?"
"Now. We're not going back to the house."
You groan dramatically and cover your face. He gently pulls your hands away. "You can take whatever you need from here."
"My stuff is at home."
"You have enough stuff here to survive for six months."
Unfortunately, he's right. Half your life somehow ended up at the office over the years.
You sigh. Riki kisses your forehead. "Thank you."
You glare at him. He kisses your forehead again.
An hour later you're walking through the underground parking garage with two bags and a bad attitude. The building is unusually busy. Everybody treating the situation with a seriousness that makes your stomach hurt. Riki thanks several people on the way out. Which says enough by itself because Riki almost never thanks people.
By the time the car door closes behind you, the reality of it all is finally settling in. You're actually leaving. Not for a nice vacation. Because somebody made your home unsafe.
—
So this is how you ended up here. One month later. Living in a house that wasn't yours.
A house that was supposed to feel safe, instead it just felt temporary. The house itself wasn't bad, most people would probably call it incredible. It was huge, modern, hidden far away from the city. The problem was that it didn't feel like home. Your home was warm, brown and gold, dim lighting. This house felt cold and dark. Floor-to-ceiling windows but the curtains are closed most of the time.
Even after a month, you still caught yourself reaching for light switches that weren't there and opening the wrong cabinets. You missed your bathroom, your soft bed, everything. Most of all, you hated why you were here. Somebody wanted to hurt your family. Every time you remember, suddenly the house felt uncomfortable all over again.
The adjustment hadn't been easy. Especially because Riki trusted absolutely nobody anymore. The cook wasn't allowed to move with you, the maid wasn't either, the gardener stayed behind too. Riki had decided the fewer people who knew the location, the better.
Which meant that while he spent twelve hours a day working, you were left doing everything yourself. Things you'd never minded helping with before because you were at the office as well. But now it just felt lonely and the silence gave you too much time to think.
Unfortunately, your marriage wasn't doing much better. Not because either of you stopped loving each other. If anything, this whole situation only proved how much Riki loved you. That was the problem. His love had turned into fear, and fear had turned into control.
Suddenly there were rules. You couldn't leave without security, you couldn't drive yourself anywhere, you couldn't visit people, you couldn't make spontaneous plans. You couldn't do much of anything.
Every conversation somehow turned into an argument. Every argument somehow turned into Riki insisting he was trying to keep you safe. And every time he said that, you wanted to scream. You knew he was trying to protect you, but it felt like while you were preparing for a family and a future together, Riki had slipped right back into his old life. Meanwhile you were stuck in this weird middle position.
The only good thing was that the photos had stopped.
But the letters and calls still came. Every single week. Different numbers, different accounts, different handwriting. Always the same message.
Eventually everyone in the organization reached the same conclusion. The threats were connected to Kaizen. Nobody knew who exactly, where, or how many people. Just Kaizen. It was a dead end.
One of the worst moments happened during the second week. Your driver disappeared. One minute he was dropping somebody off, the next he was gone.
For exactly forty-eight hours.
When he finally reappeared, two security guards found him dumped on the side of a road in front of the office. His face was covered in bruises, one eye nearly swollen shut. And missing a finger. You'd never forget the look on Riki's face when he heard.
The driver insisted he hadn't told them anything. He'd been blindfolded the entire time. He didn't know where he was, didn't recognize any voices or heard any names. Nothing that could help. Just more proof that whoever was behind this wasn't playing games anymore.
—
It’s almost 11 p.m. when the front door finally unlocks. Riki steps inside looking exhausted, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. The house is dark except for the kitchen lights. You’ve spent the entire day alone in this house again. Riki crosses the room and kisses your forehead, then your lips quickly.
“Hey.”
You try to smile. "Hi."
That's all you manage. Riki studies your face for a moment, clearly noticing the lack of enthusiasm, but doesn't comment on it.
“I saved you dinner,” you say quietly, standing up before he can really look at you.
In the kitchen, you Open the fridge. Scoop leftovers onto a plate. Reheat them.
Riki leans against the counter watching you.
“How was your day?”
You shrug. “Fine.”
"Did you eat?"
"Mhm."
You don’t continue. So he tries again. “Did you go outside?”
“No.”
“You should’ve gone into the garden at least.”
You let out a humorless laugh. “The garden surrounded by guards and cameras? Yeah, sounds relaxing.”
You set the plate down harder than necessary. Then you stop moving entirely, a long sigh leaves you.
“I can’t do this.”
Riki straightens slightly. “Do what?”
“This.” You gesture between the two of you. “Pretend everything’s normal.”
“I know about Ren.”
His jaw tightens instantly. “Who told you?”
“Kenji.”
“You weren’t supposed to know that.” He says irritated.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you snap. “Was I supposed to keep living here like some clueless housewife while people are getting tortured because of us?”
“Lower your voice.”
“I don’t think anybody’s gonna hear us, Riki.”
Riki pushes off the counter. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you scared.”
You stare at him in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that. I’m so sick of hearing that.”
Riki scoffs and shakes his head.
“You don’t tell me things because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You lock me in this house because you’re ‘protecting’ me. You control where I go, who I see, whether I can leave the fucking property, and every time I say something you act like I’m unreasonable because you’re ‘protecting’ me.”
Riki’s jaw clenches. “Do you think I want this, y/n?”
“I don’t know what you want anymore!”
The words echo through the kitchen. Your hand slaps against the counter in frustration.
"I'm the same woman who used to run jobs with you."
"That was before."
You step closer. "You know I know how to keep myself safe because you've seen it."
"You're pregnant."
“I’m pregnant, not helpless. I hate asking permission to leave my own fucking house. I hate waking up every day feeling trapped.”
“You are not trapped.”
“It feels like a prison!”
“You’re alive.”
“And what kind of life is this?”
Riki’s voice rises now too. “A safe one.”
“I hate these fucking rules, Riki. I am not your child!"
"But you are carrying mine, aren’t you?!”
"Yes, and sometimes I really fucking I regret that!" you scream back. The words are out before you can stop them.
Riki just stares at you like he genuinely can't believe what he heard. "What did you say?"
His voice is quieter than before. You should stop. The second you saw the look on his face, you should've stopped. But you're too angry, too hurt.
"I said I regret it."
Riki blinks. "Baby."
His voice lowers, like he's trying to talk you down. "You're upset."
You laugh bitterly. "Oh my God."
"You're just angry."
"I'm not taking it back."
"You don't mean it."
You don't know what you mean. You just know everything hurts and you want him to hurt too. So you turn around and walk away.
"Fine." Your voice shakes. "I'm done talking."
"Baby—"
You ignore him. Already heading toward the stairs.
"Sleep on the couch."
Riki lets out a breath. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."
You spin around. "Yes, you are."
"No."
"Yes. Riki. You are!" You snap.
"No."
"I don't want you in our room."
Riki's jaw flexes. "Our room."
"Don't."
"I'm not sleeping on the couch."
You throw your hands up. "You're so fucking stubborn."
"And you're being unreasonable.”
You stare at him, then turn around before you say something even worse. A second later the bedroom door slams hard enough to shake the wall.
The house feels painfully quiet afterward. Riki stands alone in the kitchen. The untouched plate of food still sitting on the counter. He looks at it for a long moment, then sits down, takes one bite and stops. His appetite is completely gone. Your words keep replaying in his head. He rubs a hand over his face and lets out a long breath. He puts the untouched plate in the sink and heads upstairs.
The bedroom is dark when he enters. The only light comes from the bathroom door left slightly open. You don't acknowledge him. You're already under the blankets, lying on your side as far from his side of the bed as possible. Riki quietly changes clothes. Pulls on a pair of sweatpants, takes off his shirt, brushes his teeth.
Does everything as quietly as possible. Then finally gets into bed, the mattress shifts. Immediately you turn around.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The whisper-yell is somehow more aggressive than actual yelling.
Riki settles onto his pillow. "I'm going to sleep."
"I told you to sleep on the couch."
He closes his eyes. "I'm not sleeping on the couch."
"You're unbelievable."
No response. "Riki."
Still nothing. You sigh, long and very irritated. "You're fucking stubborn."
With an angry huff, you turn away again. Your back facing him. For a few minutes neither of you speaks.
Eventually you feel the mattress shift slightly. Riki moving closer, then his arm starts to move around your waist like it always does.You immediately push his hand away. The hand disappears and Riki doesn't try again.
Normally this would've been over by now. Normally one of you would've apologized. Or laughed, or given in. Neither of you ever really went to sleep angry. You don’t do that. Because living this kind of life, it could always somehow be your last day together.
But tonight you genuinely don't want to be touched. Or apologies or cuddles. You want as much space as possible.
Minutes pass, eventually Riki speaks.
"I love you."
Your eyes immediately sting. But instead of saying it back, you swallow hard and stay silent.
—
The next morning feels awful. Riki is already gone. No goodbye kiss, no hand brushing through your hair, o quiet I'll see you later. The guilt from last night immediately settles in your chest.
You can't stay here today. You need fresh air, people, something that isn't these four walls.
So before you can overthink it, you grab your phone and call Riki. The call only rings once.
"Yeah."
You sit down on the edge of the bed.
"Uhm. I was wondering... I wanted to maybe go out today?"
You immediately start rambling. "It doesn't have to be long. I just wanted to go to the mall for a bit and maybe look around and I can take security and—"
"You can go."
"What?"
"You can go."
His tone stays flat. "I'll send Ren."
"Oh."
"You don't have to explain."
Normally he'd tease you, ask what you wanted to buy or make a joke about you spending all his money. Now he just sounds tired.
"I'll have Ren pick you up."
"Okay."
"Be home by 6."
“Okay.”
The call ends.
The idea of leaving the house makes something inside you feel lighter. You practically jump out of bed. Finally something normal. You spend extra time getting ready, making sure you look extra good. For the first time in days, you actually feel excited about something.
Then the doorbell rings. Ren is waiting outside. You immediately notice how different he looks now. The bruises, and the missing finger is impossible to ignore.
"Goodmorning."
"Morning, ma'am."
His voice sounds strange.Before you can ask anything, he clears his throat. "Boss told me to tell you something."
"What?"
"He wants you to leave your phone at home."
"My phone?"
"So nobody can track you." That sounds exactly like something Riki would say. You sigh.
"Fine."
You go back inside and leave your phone on the kitchen counter.
Ren opens the car door for you and when the house slowly disappears behind you, you actually feel happy. The feeling doesn't last.
At first you're talking nonstop about random things. A store you want to visit, a dress you saw online, a bakery you miss. Ren barely says anything. His eyes stay fixed on the road. His shoulders look tense.
You slowly start talking less and then your gaze drifts toward his hand. The memory of what happened to him. Something uncomfortable settles in your stomach and you look away.
The car continues driving, and driving, and driving…
Eventually you glance out the window, your brows furrow. This isn't right. The route feels wrong. You know this city. You know where the mall is, and this isn't it.
You sit up slightly.
"Ren?"
You look out the window again. The roads and buildings are unfamiliar now. A cold feeling creeps up your spine. "Ren."
He keeps driving. Your heartbeat starts picking up. Maybe there's traffic?
"Ren, where are we going?" The excitement from earlier disappears instantly.
"Ren." This time your voice comes out sharper. "Where are you taking me?"
His hands tighten around the steering wheel, and then—
Click.
The doors lock.
Your stomach drops and for a second you just stare at him, your heartbeat suddenly pounding so hard you can hear it.
"Ren." He doesn't answer. The panic hits all at once. Your voice cracks. "Ren, what the fuck is happening?"
Your breathing speeds up. You grab the door handle anyway and pull it.
"Ren! I want to get out! Please stop the car!"
Tears are already running down your cheeks. Your hands shake as you pull at the handle again. "You're scaring me!"
Ren slams a hand against the steering wheel. "Stop yelling!" The outburst makes you jump.
"If you just cooperate, nothing will happen to you!"
You stare at him. "What?"
"Just work with me."
"What are you talking about?"
You start crying harder. "What are you doing?!"
Ren's grip tightens around the wheel, he looks like he might cry too. "They threatened my family."
Your heart drops. "What?"
"They threatened my family."
His voice shakes. "They found my wife, my kids. They said if I didn't do this..."
He sighs. "...they'd kill them."
You just stare at him, unable to process it. "Who? Who, Ren?"
The silence is answer enough.
"Please." You wipe at your tears. "Please tell me who."
Ren just shakes his head and keeps driving. Then suddenly he reaches forward, your entire body tenses. He unlocks the glove compartment and it falls open. Inside sits a filled syringe.
Your stomach immediately turns. You don't even have to ask.
"They told me to use it if you didn't cooperate."
Your hands instinctively move to your stomach. The baby. You immediately stop talking, you just turn your head toward the window. Tears sliding silently down your cheeks. Eventually your voice returns.
"Ren." He sighs. "What?"
"You've known us for years."
He closes his eyes briefly. You keep going. "You've worked for Riki for years. You know me." Your voice trembles. "I’m going to be a mother."
You wipe another tear away. "Please don't do this."
His eyes stay fixed on the road. "I don't have a choice."
"Everybody has a choice."
A painful laugh escapes him. "No. Not always."
You stare at him trying to find something. Some sign he might change his mind. But all you see is guilt. "Where are we going?"
He doesn't answer. "Ren… please."
You let out a shaky breath. "Am I going to die?"
For the first time since this started, Ren looks at you. And when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"I don't know, ma’am.”
For a few more minutes, you keep trying. Because what else are you supposed to do? Just sit there and let this happen?
"No, you know what?" Your voice shakes from crying. "You're fucking stupid. Do you have any idea what Riki is gonna do when he finds out? You think threatening your family is bad?"
A tear rolls down your cheek. "He's going to kill you."
The threat sounds weak the second it leaves your mouth, mostly because your voice cracks halfway through it because you’re still crying. Ren doesn't even react.
"He'll find me. He always finds people." The silence makes you even angrier.
"You know what your problem is?" you snap. "You think I'm some helpless wife. You think I'm just gonna sit here and cry."
Your breathing speeds up. "I can fight. I've been around this shit longer than you."
Then suddenly something clicks. Your stomach drops.
"Riki never told me to leave my phone." Your voice breaks. "Oh my God. You lied."
He says nothing. "You lied to me. You’re kidnapping me."
Ren has been your driver for years, you trusted him. The tears start again.
"How could you do this? How could you fucking do this?!"
Ren suddenly slams his palm against the steering wheel. "They're going to murder my family!"
The yell fills the entire car. You jump immediately. Your mouth snaps shut. Then you slowly cover your mouth with your hand ,trying to muffle the sob that escapes.
Meanwhile, back at the office, Riki has no idea.
He's sitting in another meeting. His attention keeps drifting to you, though. To your words from last night. A part of him wants to call you, just to hear your voice and make sure you're okay. But every time he reaches for his phone, he’d tell himself you’re just having a nice day out and he should leave you alone.
He promised himself something. He promised he'd try to give you space. Try to stop controlling every part of your life. You hated the cameras, the tracking, the constant security. So he'd started easing up.
The guy monitoring your location? Day off. The guards assigned to watch you? Day off. Several camera systems around the property? Disabled. For you. Because despite everything, all he wanted was for you to be happy.
Unfortunately, that decision couldn't have come at a worse time.
—
The car finally slows. You immediately sit up and your heartbeat starts racing again.
Outside, the surroundings look unfamiliar. Industrial and empty. The kind of place nobody accidentally ends up.
Ren parks and then looks at you. "If you cooperate..." His voice is barely above a whisper. "...nothing will happen."
You nod slowly. You wipe away your tears and take a shaky breath. "Okay."
But you're lying. The second you see your opportunity, you're running. No matter how many weapons or buff men, you’re running.
A few seconds later, headlights appear and doors open. Four men, all armed. One of them immediately approaches the car. The moment the door swings open, a hand grabs your arm hard. "Move."
You do. Just not the way they're expecting. The second your feet hit the ground, you twist. Your pointy heel comes down hard on the man's foot. He curses and ends slightly and that's all the opening you need. Your knee shoots upward. The man winces in pain and you rip your arm free.
You kick your heels off and run. Bare feet hitting rough pavement. Heart pounding, adrenaline flooding your body.
For one glorious second, you think it might work. Then somebody grabs the back of your arm. You yank away. Another hand catches your shoulder. Someone shouts. You keep fighting, keep twisting, keep trying. Then somebody catches your arm and a sharp impact slams against the side of your head.
Everything flashes white, the world tilts and voices become blurry. A second later everything goes black.
—
At five o'clock, Riki is completely unaware that anything is wrong. Every now and then, he checks the time. Five already. A small part of him still considers calling you. Then remembers last night, the way you'd refused to say I love you back.
You probably need space. And that's what he'd been trying to give you so he puts the phone back down. You must be home already. Probably unpacking shopping bags, maybe cooking dinner, maybe still annoyed at him.
But safe.
Meanwhile, your head feels like it's splitting in half.
The first thing you notice is the ringing in your ears and hen the pounding behind your eyes. Then your entire body feels cold. You groan softly. Everything is blurry. Nothing makes sense. For a while you just sit there trying to remember.
The car. Ren. Running.
The realization hits all at once and your eyes snap open. Your wrists immediately pull against something. Rope. Your hands are tied behind the chair , your ankles too. A cloth is tied tightly around your mouth.
The panic returns so quickly it makes you dizzy. You look around. The room looks abandoned. Concrete walls, one flickering light hanging from the ceiling, no windows. No way outt.
Four men stand around the room. The second they notice you're awake, one of them laughs.
"Look."
Another glances over. "Finally."
Your breathing starts speeding up. The chair scrapes loudly as you instinctively try to move.
Then another man enters your line of vision. Older than the others, maybe late forties. Well dressed and too calm. He smiles when he sees your eyes open.
"Well well." He slowly approaches. "Look who's awake."
You pull against the ropes again. The chair creaks underneath you. The man chuckles.
"You were out for so long we thought we killed you already."
Your heart pounds. The panic fully sets in, a muffled scream sounds behind the cloth.
The man sighs dramatically and then crouches down in front of you. "Relax."
You scream again, louder. The man reaches forward and he grabs your chin. Hard enough to stop your head from moving.
"Stop that. Your husband won't hear you from here."
The mention of Riki instantly breaks something inside you. Tears immediately fill your eyes. The man notices, he lets go of your face with a small push and smiles.
"Aw."
He slowly starts pacing like he's giving a presentation. “I don’t think you know me. I’m Kaito. Your husband killed a lot of important people, y/n."
His smile disappears. "My brother happened to be one of them."
He studies your expression. "You know what impressed me most?"
You stare at him. Tears running down now.
"How predictable the two of you are." His smile returns. "We followed you for months. Every luxury shop. Every restaurant. Every office meeting. No matter how many guards your husband hired, we always knew where you were."
You think about the months of fear. They'd really been watching the entire time.
"You know the funny part?" He tilts his head. "Your husband is actually very smart. He moved houses."
He shrugs. "Hired security. Changed routines." Then his smile widens. "But eventually he made the same mistake every man makes. He got comfortable."
The tears won't stop now. You can barely breathe. Hiro walks closer again.
"He turned off cameras, he sent guards home. All because he wanted to make you happy."
You shake your head desperately. The cloth muffles another sob. Hiro crouches beside you again. His voice lowering, almost gentle.
"Do you know how easy today was?"
The question makes your stomach turn. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that might somehow make him disappear.
"Your husband spent months building walls around you. And a few arguments were enough to make him tear them down himself."
When you open your eyes again, tears blur everything. Hiro looks completely satisfied like he's waited years for this moment.
By seven o'clock, Riki is finally heading home.
The entire day he's been replaying last night in his head. Thinking of things he should've said differently. By the time he reaches the house, he's already decided he's apologizing first. The front door opens, he kicks off his shoes, hangs up his coat, and immediately calls out,
"Baby?"
Silence, he frowns. Norrmally you'd answer, even if you were still angry, even if it’s just a hum. He walks further inside.
"Baby, I'm so sorry for—"
The words stop in his throat. The house looks exactly the same as when he left, like nobody had been here all day. A strange feeling settles in his chest.
"Baby?"
He walks into the kitchen, nothing. Garden, nothing. His pace quickens. Upstairs. Bathroom, empty. Bedroom, empty. Guest room, empty. His heart starts beating harder. Now he's calling your name louder. He checks the time. 7:03. You were supposed to be home by six. Ren knew that, you knew that.
So where the fuck are you?
Riki rushes downstairs and that's when he sees it. Your phone still sitting on the kitchen counter.
"What." He grabs it. "What the fuck—"
His heart drops straight into his stomach. His hands are already grabbing his own phone. Already dialing Ren. Every instinct in his body screaming that something is wrong.
Miles away, your head shoots up because you hear a ringtone.
Across the room, Ren is slumped against a concrete wall unconscious with his hands tied. The phone keeps ringing. Kaito glances toward the sound and slowly reaches into Ren's pocket.
Kaito pulls out the phone, looks at the screen and smiles.
"Oh."
He turns the phone toward you. The contact name fills the screen. Riki. The sight of it almost breaks you because now you know exactly what's happening. Riki's home, he's looking for you, he's freaking out.
The phone continues ringing and Kaito studies your face, amused like he's watching a show.
"Should I ignore it? Huh?"
You violently shake your head, tears flying. Please don't. But his smile only grows.
“No? So you wan’t me to answer?” You nod your head and tears spill down your cheeks.
The phone rings, until Kaito swipes across the screen to aswer and Riki's voice explodes through the speaker. "Ren, where is she?"
No hello. Pure panic. "Where the fuck is my wife?"
Even hearing his voice makes fresh tears spill down your face. Kaito glances at you, sill smiling. Then casually pulls a chair over and sits down directly in front of you, one leg over the other.
"Good evening, Boss."
"...Who is this?"
Kaito leans back comfortably. "Oh, we have plenty of time for introductions."
Kaito keeps smiling while Riki's breathing turns harsher through the phone.
"You trusted the wrong man," he says casually. "And now I have the thing you cherish most."
You immediately start screaming behind the gag. Trying to make noise, trying to make Riki hear you. On the other end of the line, Riki loses whatever control he had left.
"I'll kill you. I'll kill every fucking person in that building. Tell me where she is."
Kaito's smile fades slightly. "Careful, Boss. Threats don't work when I'm the one holding the gun."
Riki says something else, but Kaito simply lifts the phone away.
"I'll show you something."
And then he hangs up. Kaito slips the phone into his pocket, completely unbothered. You stare at him through tears.
A minute later, somewhere across the city, Riki's phone buzzes. A video, he opens it immediately.
The screen shows you tied to the chair with a gun pressed beside your head. Your face wet with tears. If you don't come alone, Kaito says, if you tell anyone, bring anyone, fight us, or try anything clever, your wife and your baby die. Then a location appears on screen.
For once in his life, Riki listens to an enemy. Because this isn't business, his wife’s life is at risk. He just grabs his keys and leaves.
At the warehouse, you sit trapped in the chair, waiting. You keep telling yourself the same thing over and over. Riki will come, Riki will bring his men, you’ll be safe. Your eyes close briefly as you try to steady your breathing. It'll be over soon.
Then you hear a car outside, a door slamming. Your heart jumps into your throat. Kaito glances toward the entrance. One of the armed men moves toward the front.
Outside, Riki reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a handgun. He shoves it into the waistband of his suit and heads for the warehouse door without slowing down. He pounds on it hard enough to rattle the metal. The door cracks open. A guard stands there, weapon visible.
"You alone?"
"Yes," Riki snaps. "Let me the fuck in!"
The man studies him for a second, then opens the door. The moment the entrance clears, Riki sees you tied to the chair. And your scream tears through the warehouse. "Riki!"
He moves immediately, trying to get to you. A guard blocks him before he gets halfway across the room. "Not so fast. Any weapon on you," he says. "Drop it."
For a second Riki hesitates. His eyes flick to you, to the gun beside your head.
Slowly, he reaches into his waistband and pulls out the pistol. It feels humiliating, but he lowers it to the concrete floor. The guard immediately kicks it away. The second the gun is kicked away, another man moves.
Riki barely has time to react before someone grabs both his wrists and yanks them behind his back. Instinct takes over and he twists violently, trying to break free. For a split second, it almost works. But the man standing in front of him swings the butt of his gun and it lands hard against the side of Riki's head.
Your breath catches. "Riki!"
Riki groans in pain and his knees nearly buckle. Blood immediately appears near his temple, running down the side of his face. The man behind him tightens his grip and forces his arms higher. "Stop moving."
"Get your fucking hands off me."
Kaito sighs dramatically. "I told you not to fight. It's five against one."
He gestures around the room. "You're not winning this."
The men force Riki forward toward you. One of the men shoves him down. Riki hits the concrete on both knees.
He's only a few meters away now. Close enough to see every tear on your face, close enough to notice your shaky breathing. But too far away to reach you. You stare at him. Your vision blurs again.
"Riki..."
The cloth turns it into a muffled sob.
His tone immediately softens even now.
"It's okay, baby." Blood still running down the side of his face. "Trust me."
You shake your head desperately, tears falling faster. His eyes stay locked on yours.
"You'll be okay."
Kaito laughs, then grabs a handful of Riki's hair and forces his head upward. His fingers brush the fresh blood near Riki's temple.
"You really believe that?" Kaito asks.
Riki jerks away from him immediately. His eyes dark.
"If you touch her—"
"Listen." Kaito cuts him off.
The smile finally disappears from his face. "You killed my brother."
"I remember the phone call, I remember identifying the body, I remember seeing my nieces cry."
You can feel the hatred pouring out of him now. "I wasn't important enough for anyone to look at. Which worked out pretty well for me."
His eyes move toward you. "Because it gave me time. Every picture, every threat. That was me. I followed you both for months. Waiting for the perfect moment to get revenge.”
He looks directly at Riki. "It surprised me hard it was to find your weak spot. But then it happened..."
His eyes slowly move down to your stomach. Everything inside you freezes.
"...the baby."
Immediately you start struggling again. The chair scrapes loudly across the floor and a muffled cry escapes you.
"No—"
Riki visibly flinches. Kaito notices both reactions and smiles.
"See? There it is. That's the one."
Riki's entire body goes rigid. "If this is about me then leave them out of it."
"Leave them out of it? After everything I’ve worked for? The stalking, the months of paranoia, the kidnapping. It worked exactly how I wanted."
You feel sick. Because he's right, every piece led here. Riki's eyes never leave you. Almost like he's trying to memorize your face, preparing for something.
Kaito turns back toward him.
"And now you're alone. You came exactly where I wanted."
Kaito takes a gun from one of the men. He turns and presses the gun gently against the side of your head. Everybody’s breath catches.
"Since you took something from me..." Kaito says quietly. "...I think it's only fair I take something from you."
"NO!" Riki's voice explodes through the room.
He tries to get up, a guard immediately slams a fist into his side. The hit forces the air from his lungs and he groans.
"Please."
The word falls from his mouth before he can stop it. And everyone hears it. The feared boss, the man who’s never said thank you. Begging.
"Please. Don't touch her."
And sitting there with tears streaming down your face, staring at the blood on his temple and the panic in his eyes, you realize he's just as scared as you are.
Kaito studies the panic on both of your faces for a moment before slowly lowering the gun from your head. He starts pacing again, the gun hanging loosely at his side.
"You know," he says, almost conversationally, "when my brother got shot, everybody talked about him. They talked about his empire. His money. His power."
A humorless laugh leaves him. "But nobody talked about his daughters. Funny, isn't it?"
He tilts his head. "A child growing up without a father." His gaze locks onto Riki. "Does that sound familiar to you?"
The words hit harder than any punch. You immediately start shaking your head.
"No. No, please..."
Your voice is barely understandable through the tears. Riki drops his head.
"What do you want, Riki?" Kaiten says.
Riki slowly looks up. Kaito points the gun toward you.
"Her life?" Then toward Riki. "Or yours?"
"If she dies," Kaito continues, "you live. You get to spend the rest of your life remembering this moment. Remembering your wife. Remembering your unborn child."
Your breathing becomes shaky. Kaito then points the gun at Riki.
"If you die... they live."
You immediately let out a sob. "No."
"But your child grows up without a father and your wife becomes a widow."
Riki just stares at the floor, then at you, his eyes glassy. The thought of either option makes you feel sick. Kaito waits and waits. When neither of you answers, his patience begins to crack.
"Answer me."
Silence. "Answer me..."
"ANSWER ME, RIKI."
Riki closes his eyes. Kaito strides forward and puts the gun beneath Riki's chin, forcing his head upward. Riki slowly opens his eyes.
Then Kaito smiles.
"You know what?" He takes a step back. "I'll let both of you decide."
He gestures toward the men beside you. One of them immediately crouches down, a knife cuts the ropes around your wrists fall away. Your arms immediately drop, numb and aching. The ropes around your ankles follow. At the same time, one of the guards gives Riki a shove between the shoulder blades.
The second you're free, you're moving. You practically fall into him. Your knees hit the concrete and you're in his arms. Finally, but at what cost.
The first sound that leaves you is a broken sob. Riki catches you immediately, one arm around your shoulders, the other cradling the back of your head. Holding you so tightly like it’s the last time. Your face presses against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat.
"Riki..." Your voice breaks completely. "I'm so sorry."
He immediately shakes his head but you keep going. The words pour out between sobs.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it."
"I know."
"I didn't mean any of it, I do want this. I want our family. I want our baby."
His hand slides into your hair. "I know… I know."
Another sob, you can barely breathe. Tears are running down his face now too, though he barely seems to notice. You cup his face with both hands.
"I love you so much." The words come out trembling. "So much."
His eyes immediately close for a second. Hearing that physically hurts because he doesn't know if he'll ever hear it again.
"I love you too." His forehead presses against yours.
Then—
BANG.
The gunshot explodes through the warehouse ceiling. Both of you jump violently. You instinctively bury yourself against Riki's chest and his arms immediately wrap around you.
Kaito lowers the gun and rolls his eyes. "Touching."
Kaito checks his watch. "You have three minutes."
Your stomach twists. Three minutes. Three minutes to decide something impossible.
"If you don't choose..." He shrugs. "...I'll choose myself."
The silence afterward feels endless. And as the reality of those words settles over the room, you cling to Riki even tighter. Because suddenly three minutes feels like the shortest amount of time in the world.
The moment Kaito says they have three minutes, something inside you completely breaks.
"No—"
Your voice cracks. Sobbing so hard you can barely breathe. Your fingers clutch at Riki's suit desperately, holding onto him like if you let go for even a second he'll disappear. The thought alone makes you feel sick.
"No, no, no..."
Your whole body shakes. Riki immediately pulls you closer.
"Baby." His hands cup your face. "Hey."
You can't even look at him. Because the second you do, it feels like goodbye.
"Look at me."
You shake your head. "No."
"Baby." His thumbs wipe tears from your cheeks. "Look at me."
Eventually your eyes lift. The second they meet his, more tears spill over, because he's crying too.
You know exactly what he's thinking and you hate it.
"Listen to me." His voice is gentle. The same voice he uses when you're sick, when you're upset. "You have to take care of our baby."
Immediately you start shaking your head again. "No."
"You do." His forehead presses against yours. "You have to."
"No, Riki."
"I want you to live."
His hand slides down to your stomach. The gesture destroys you. "I want both of you to live."
Your hand immediately covers his as if you're trying to stop him.
"You'll be okay."
"No." His lips brush your forehead. "You will."
A kiss to your temple. "You're strong." A kiss to your cheek. "You always tell me that."
Your shoulders shake harder. "Stop."
"You know how to take care of yourself."
"Stop it ."
"You'll be an amazing mother."
"Riki, stop."
His voice breaks slightly. "You'll live the life we talked about."
At that, you completely lose it. The sound that leaves your throat barely sounds human. You bury your face against his neck and cry harder, because he's talking like he's already gone. Like he's already made peace with it, he's already saying goodbye.
Kaito glances at his watch. "Time's almost up."
You immediately grab Riki tighter. "No."
His arms wrap around you. One hand rubbing your back, the other the side of your face. He can't stop touching you. His eyes close briefly. He's memorizing this. The feeling of your hair, your scent, the weight of your body against his, the warmth of you. The child you carry. Everything.
"It'll be okay."
His voice is quieter now. Almost a whisper. "You'll finally get that peaceful life."
You immediately pull back. "No. Stop."
"You will. You deserve it."
Your hands grab his face. "I want you a life with you, Riki."
Kaito sighs loudly, clearly annoyed. Then he starts counting.
"Fifty. Forty-nine. Forty-eight."
"No."
You turn toward Kaito so quickly your neck hurts. "Take me."
Riki immediately stiffens. "No baby."
"Just take me!" Your voice echoes through the room. Tears running down your face. "Please!"
Riki grabs your shoulders. "Y/n stop."
"Take me!"
His arms immediately lock around you, holding you against his chest. "Stop."
"No!" You struggle trying to pull away from him.
Eventually he places a hand over your mouth. Just to stop you from saying it. Because he cannot listen to you offer your own life. Your cries become muffled ,you hit weakly against his chest trying to fight him. But you're exhausted, you’re terrified and drained.
Eventually your strength gives out. You stop fighting and Riki slowly removes his hand.
The second he does, you throw your arms around his neck. He immediately hugs you back.
"Baby..." His thumb brushes your cheek. "I need you to listen to me."
He looks at you, his eyes glistening like he’s looking at the most precious thing in the world.
"I loved every day with you."
Your face crumples immediately. "No Riki don’t say that—"
"I mean it." A small smile appears. The saddest smile you've ever seen. "I loved every single day."
His breathing shakes, a tear slides down his temple. His hand finds your stomach.
"The day I met you... I had no idea you'd become my whole life."
You can't breathe.
"I need you." The words burst out of you. "I need you, Riki."
Your hands grab his face. "I can't do this without you. I can’t.”
"Yes you can. You're the strongest woman I've ever met."
Your entire body shakes. "No."
"You are. You’re stronger than me, baby, trust me. You survived me."
That almost makes both of you laugh weakly.
His forehead presses against yours. "You'll raise our baby."
A sob escapes you.
"You'll tell them about me. You'll tell them how annoying I was."
"No."
"You'll tell them how much I loved you."
"Stop."
"I'll always be with you." The words come out quietly. You immediately start crying harder.
"I'll look for you. In your dreams."
"No. No Riki I can’t—"
"I'll remind you I'm still around."
You're fully hysterical now. Sobbing so hard your words don't even make sense anymore.
"No, no, no, no, no..."
"TEN." Kaito's voice echoes through the warehouse.
Your arms are wrapped around Riki's neck so tightly your muscles hurt. His forehead is pressed against your shoulder.
"Nine."
His hands move to your face, making you look at him. "Riki..."
Somehow he still manages to smile. That smile he only ever gave you and nobody else ever got. That smile you hope your baby has gotten from him.
"I'll love you forever."
Your face immediately crumples. "Riki… no."
His thumb wipes away another tear. "Say it back, baby. Say it back to me."
His forehead presses against yours again.
"I love you.” You manage to say between sobs. “I love you so much.”
A tear slips down his cheek.
“Five.”
And suddenly he's kissing you. So deeply, he's trying to put every feeling he's ever had for you into one final kiss. Your hands immediately find his face. His neck, his hair. Anywhere.
You kiss him back through tears. Through the realization that this is probably the last time. The last kiss, and neither of you wants to let go.
"One."
Kaito's voice cuts through the room. The kiss breaks.
Then—
Zero.
Kaito moves so fast you barely register it, and suddenly Riki jerks. A strangled sound leaves him. Your eyes widen.
A knife is buried deep beneath his ribs. Kaito immediately steps back and blood begins spreading across Riki's shirt.
"No!" The scream tears out of you.
The entire warehouse disappears in front of your eyes. Nothing exists except him in your arms. His head lands in your lap. Blood is already soaking your clothes.
"Riki."
He coughs, blood appears at the corner of his mouth. Your heart shatters. Your hands shake so badly you can barely hold his face.
"I'm here." You don't even know why you're saying it. "I'm here."
Another cough escapes from him. Another painful breath. His eyes stay locked on yours like he wants your face to be the last thing he sees. You start crying harder.
"I love you. I love you so much."
His lips twitch. Almost a smile, almost. Then his hand slowly lifts, weak and shaky, trying to reach you. You immediately grab it and press his palm against your cheek. His thumb barely moves against your skin. The weakest little movement but you feel it.
His eyes begin drifting through you. Somewhere else.
His mind drifts to the day he met you. To your wedding. The first time he slept with you. To when he taught you how to fight and he used to let you win. Late nights cuddling in bed. When he introduced you at the office. The arguments. Slow dancing in the living room. Running jobs with you. The baby. The future. The life you were supposed to have.
The life that was supposed to keep going.
His hand starts slipping. You immediately grab it, putting it back against your face.
"No." Your voice cracks. "Stay with me."
His eyes find yours one final time, and suddenly he looks peaceful. Then his chest rises one last time. His eyes remain on yours, but something changes, he just disappears. Riki isn't there anymore.
"No." Your hands grab his face and tap his cheek gently. "Riki, baby.”
Your breathing becomes frantic. "Riki… please.”
Your voice breaks. Tears falling onto his face.
"Please wake up."
There are still people in the room, still footsteps and distant voices, preparing to leave this situation behind as fast as possible. But none of it reaches you. The world has narrowed down to the weight in your lap, to the face you've loved for years.
You don't know how much time passes. Maybe seconds, maybe hours. You just sit there.
A part of you refuses to believe it. Any second now he'll groan and tell you you're being dramatic. Any second now he'll wake up. He always wins.
Your fingers brush through his hair, sticky with blood now, but you don’t care, you smooth it back anyway. The same way you always did when he was stressed or when he fell asleep on your chest.
You lower your forehead against his and cold tears fall onto his skin. Your hand finds his, it feels heavier now, lifeless. You lace your fingers through his anyway.
Nothing about this feels real. You bend over him, pressing a trembling kiss against his forehead. One last time.
"I love you Riki." The words come out broken.
"Forever."
You don’t get an answer. The words just hangs in the air.
Outside, the world keeps moving. Rain falls, cars drive by. People laugh, people dance. Dogs bark, birds chirp. Life just continues. Completely unaware that yours has just ended.
You close your eyes and hold him tighter. You place one hand on your stomach. You were so close to a perfect future with him, and it left you in less than a second. The old house filled with jazz music. The family dinners. Gone.
But beneath your hand, there is still a piece of him. Your child. And for the first time since Kaito started counting, you finally understand why he made his choice.
Even when Riki was terrified for what was coming. Even when it meant losing everything.
He chose you.
✦
xtra note: I just realized I completely forgot to write about the little girls from the last past omg... SORRY. I was too focused on dada's death. the girls are fine ;)
ᥫ᭡. getting drunk after being at a party for not even an hour—but getting taken care of by your crush… ~ 🥂🖤
student Taesan x student fem reader
It’s friday night the day you’ve been waiting on since these stupid ass exams wrapped up, your hands still aching from all of the group studies and writing you’ve done this past week. instead of sleeping away the entire weekend like you know your body wants to, you instead decide to join the post exam celebration party happening tonight— to hopefully loosen the tenseness your body has held onto since exam dates were announced.
busy days finally come to an end.
texting your friends that’s you made it and then immediately going to the kitchen and downing drinks after drinks to take the edge off from all the smothering you’ve been dealing with lately, grabbing bottles from all around the counter shooting vodka then tequila then beer then a cooler and then back again, knowing you shouldn’t mix your alcohols but not caring enough to stop your self.
deciding to grab a cup and mix whatever is in front of you to take with you and finally joining the mosh of people on the dance floor, you push your way through to the living room where the blasting music reaches your ears slightly too loud, following the flow of the group of bodies in rhythm to focused on not focusing to focus.
the sheer loudness of the music vibrating thought your body as it rubs against all the others in the same predicament, your friends are somewhere else maybe across the house making out with someone or getting irresponsibly drunk like you. the music seeping into your brain through your ears from the piercing volume it’s turned up too helping to put you in a haze, eventually the shots catch up to you and your dancing turns more into a stumble then actual steps, bumping into people trying to keep your balance and of course not finding your footing and falling completely into another person.
“woah, i got you”
too inebriated to realize who’s holding you up from keeling over you grip their forearms to try and keep yourself steady though it doesn’t do much.
“I think you should sit down”
nodding to whatever they say as they practically drag you out of the crowd, moving to a more secluded area where you could actually make out his words now. “are you okay?” still holding you up by your arms you finally look up to meet his eyes which are watching you closely incase your knees give out and you almost face plant again. “I think you drank too much” still keep watch of your face as you let out a giggle at his words and shaking your head making you wobble in his arms “not enough” looking at you as if you’ve just said the dumbest thing ever which you probably did, he opens his mouth again “well you can’t stand on your own… so I’d say it’s enough” you of course take that as a challenge and try to back up and pull your arms out of his hands “no i can, watch” but as soon as his hands leave your body you stumble a little too far to the left he reaches back out to put his hand between your head and the wall it’s about to hit instead hitting your head off his palm causing you to giggle again “okay.. maybe not” you choke out a laugh.
Clearly your not safe standing so he pulls you to find a free seat around the house but most if not all are occupied with freaky couples or people passed out, a voice breaks out 5 feet away “what are you doing?” someone grabs his arm that has a hold on you, “where you taking my best friend?” the girl almost equally as drunk as the one in his arms “she fell on me, i think she drank too much” she looks down at you wobbling in his arms, you giggle as you make eye contact with your friend pulling a sly smirk “aren’t i lucky” minju giggles a little at your face realizing what you’re talking about and looking back up to the man holding you up “do you live here?” looking a little confused he nods “yes?” “okay perfect help me bring her to your room” now looking shocked and confused “my room? why..?” minju looks at him as if he’s stupid “cuz it’s quiet and there’s no other seats open duh” furrowing his brows at her and looking behind her to see she’s right “okay okay, but it’s downstairs I don’t knew if she can make it” she huffs “she can” “I can” you both say simultaneously.
minju going to the other side of you to try and help although it’s not doing much, they haul you to the stairs, scared of you falling he grips your arms tighter “take slow steps down” his soft voice breaks from behind you as you take a step down. “I think I could do it on my own” he shuts down the idea as soon as it leaves your mouth “you can’t even stand” you descend the stairs slowly almost at the bottom “watch your step!” you skip a step and stumble down the last few somehow not falling to a heap on the floor in front of you “sorry” you mumble out of breath from your near death experience, “it’s okay your alive” Minju smiles at you
finally making it to the bedroom minju opens the door for you as you take in the posters all around the room “woa”
“it’s so warm in here” she continues smiling in awe at the severely decorated room “ah is it?” his face heating up a little at the mention of his bedroom, leading you to sit on his bed as soon as your butt touch’s you immediately lay back and sigh loudly “I like it in here” staring at the oasis poster on the ceiling above the bed, he sits next to you on the bed looking up at the poster he put up himself just 6 months ago “im gonna get her some water to sober up” giving her a thumbs up as she go to the door “try not to throw up k?” you send an overly enthusiastic thumb into the air
he follows you and lays back to stare at the poster as well enjoying the newfound silence enveloping the room until he speak up again “ive noticed you a couple of times around campus” you hum “really?” “Yeah your in my sculpting class” you let out a soft chuckle “yea I am” before continuing on “I noticed you a too, Well I always notice you actually” “you do?”
“my eyes seem to constantly find you” you say with your eyes closed in thought as if reliving the moments “I may not know you but my eyes do” a smile slowly envelopes your face at the thought
a couple minutes pass
“why?”
you hum in response
“why do you always look at me?”
opening your eyes and letting out a long hmmmm turning to him to find him already looking at you, with your inhibitions dampened you looking straight into his eyes getting lost in thought for a moment
“your captivating”
“captivating?” his voice softer then before
“yea..you as a whole
your captivating
even if the entire school was in one room
I think my eyes would still find you…
taesan”
he blinks at the words that just came out your mouth and you giggle at his face “why are you surprised? I thought you knew” the furrow now coming back into his brows “what?”
“that your captivating”
“how would I know that?”
“well you are obviously beautiful so I always thought you were aware of how people see you”
his eyes widen at your unbridled words
“you think I’m beautiful?” the question alone causing a red to take over his ears and a prayer that the lights are dim enough you can’t see the change in color
“of course I do I think everyone does”
giggling starting up again at his obliviousness
“do you not look in the mirror taesan?”
forcing the lump in his throat down “I do”
letting out a smile “then how do you not see what I see?” wiggling your finger around in his face “i feel like everyone knows you are but maybe it’s cause I’m in love with you, nahh everyone’s gotta know I mean your so beautiful how could they not see it right?”
taesans jaw goes slack as the red starts to sneak up his neck now too, to preoccupied with the thoughts you’ve kept to yourself for too long to notice
“Like the way you express yourself through everything you do, your fashion, you wear the craziest things and I admire that soooo much”
your smiling brightly at him in his own room confessing your true feelings drunk in his bed as he just stares at you
“It’s amazing how in this boring town you still somehow end up being unique, you’re different taesan you’re so different and that could be why you’re so captivating.” You scoff softly at your own words “It’s not just your looks it’s your personality too, you have a unique personality you are quiet most of the time but when your really happy you can tell and you’re so funny and seem so genuine and actually interested in what people say, not that I uh easdrop…” you run your hands down your face and cover it a little as your giggle as what you just said.
taesans eyes didn’t leave you once throughout your whole vent about himself, Now unable to face you he stares at the ceiling his face now as red as his ears and his brain not yet caught up with all you’ve said taking a minute to collect his thought which is much harder then said.
“my eyes always find you too..”
he finally whispers
“I’ve wanted to talk to you before but you seemed busy all the times I’ve seen you out”
starting at his ceiling as he speaks
“I know you’re drunk and your words may not be as serious as I’m taking them but-“
he looks over at you
your chest rising in a steady rhythm much slower than the music beating upstairs, he stops his words instead turning fully face you taking in your much calmer appearance. soft snores leave your nose as the alcohol finally take its effect.
sitting up still looking at your sleeping figure a small smile on his face before he stands up, grabbing the blanket from the chair and draping it over you so you don’t freeze throughout the night.
grabbing his tylenol and setting it beside the bed next to the cup of water that hes now noticing minju must’ve brought down at some point.
taking one last glance at you sleeping peacefully in his bed.
“goodnight”
a/n: this is my first time ever writing anything so i hope it’s not absolute ass…
niki wants to live in san diego which just so happens to be your hometown ⋆｡ niki 𝑓!reader smau katseyereader est private relationship downbad niki fluff ˖ call me a freaking genius for this idea hehe love you ><
Late nights, shining stars, and sunsets didn’t mean a thing without Woonhak.
˙⋆✮ SYNOPSIS: Your nights had been dark and starless for years, leaving little space for wonder and spark. But when a cute stranger challenged you to chase sunsets, you accepted regardless of the sights. Because who needed the sun when you had Kim Woonhak?
˙⋆✮ PAIRING: woonhak x reader
˙⋆✮ GENRE: fluff, angst, wartime au, teen romance, first love
˙⋆✮ WORD COUNT: 8.2k
˙⋆✮ NOTE: inspired by so let's go see the stars. i listened, i came, i wrote (this). in all seriousness, this is my fave bnd song and i hope this idea did it justice ♡
You met him under the stars.
Although they were hidden at the time, their sparkles dulled to the point of invisibility above the slumbering city. But while the city might be asleep, you were wide awake.
The sanctioned curfew had been getting stricter with each passing month. Energy was sacred at this time, and everyone knew to treat it as such. They followed the protocol, turning off all electricity and resorting to candlelight or the occasional battery-powered flashlights if they were fancy.
You had neither as you set out into the street tonight. Some might see this as hubris or negligence, but you trusted your instinct. Besides, with the artificial lights smothered not too long after the sun set, you didn’t plan to venture far. It was a new moon today, which meant the sky would be at its darkest phase of the month. While this might deter the denizens from leaving the comfort of their homes, you took a hike up the local lookout with just your house keys and a mission.
You thought this would be a perfect time for the stars to appear again. Living in such an urban area, spotting any celestial body in the sky was nearly impossible on a regular night. But this wasn’t a regular night. It’d been a while since you had the privilege of having those anymore.
Presently, as you stood at an elevated hill overlooking the urban sprawl, you could see that not all the lights were shut off. Unfortunately, the factories at the edge of the town were still up and running. Flood lights illuminated the work areas as fumes billowed out of smokestacks into the already murky sky. All those who weren’t in bed or resting within their homes were hard at work in those factories. Every able-bodied adult and every resource were poured into powering the machinery needed to keep production alive. It was what the government ordered, after all. And when the nation was in need, one could hardly refuse.
Alas, that meant no more mind-rotting television, no more reading in the dark, no more lamps to light the way home. This didn’t bother you, though. You had lived here all your life, and you knew the way home from every corner of this city. A few years of this designated darkness was not enough to erase 17 years of learned routines and muscle memory.
Which is why you knew you had never seen him before.
There were a handful of other curfew-breakers out on the streets tonight, but none were interested in the sky. All of them kept their heads down as they passed on by, focused on getting home safe and avoiding scattered debris. But this stranger stood stalwart on the top of that hill, his attention solely on the expansive space above.
He looked unassuming for the most part, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black hoodie that made him almost blend into the night. The hill was big enough for the both of you, so you kept a comfortable distance as you approached. You would have left it at that, standing on opposite sides to watch the same sky in silence, but he glanced over his shoulder at you. He acknowledged you with a friendly smile, lips pressed together as his cheeks puffed up to say hi. It felt like an opening to start a conversation.
“Are you looking for the stars, too?” you asked, breaking the ice as you walked closer to where he stood. At a closer look, he appeared to be around your age but was a good deal taller than you. With black hair that swept down his forehead and curious eyes that followed your movement, he looked every bit unfamiliar to you.
“You’ll never see starlight here,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“Not with that attitude.” The snarky comment came out faster than you could consider if it was wise to challenge a random stranger. This could go one of two ways—he either laughed at your joke, or he judged you and moved on. Somehow, he picked the secret, third option.
“You’re right, let me just…” The boy started stretching his arms out dramatically as if getting ready for a fight. But instead of throwing fists, he held his hands to his eyes, mockingly peering through binoculars as he craned his head toward the sky. “I think I can, I think I can.”
This display caught you off-guard as you felt a scoff escape your lips. You somehow managed to politely hold it in, clearing your throat. “Okay, now you’re probably scaring them off.”
“The stars shouldn’t be scared of some kid.” He redirected his attention so his gestured binoculars were pointed toward you. His eyes barely peeked through his encircled fingers, and you had to fight back a chuckle.
“Mm, I don’t know,” you said in a sing-song manner. “You do look pretty menacing.”
The boy eventually lowered his hands to his side, cracking a smile. You finally got a good look at his face—it was youthful and kind. He resembled the type of boy you would find living next door, except there were no boys in your neighborhood like him.
“You seen stars here before?” he asked.
“Not yet, but I hope to one day.”
“Hmm…”
You looked at the boy, who seemed to be interrogating you with his narrowed eyes and crinkled eyebrows. “What?”
“So you’ve never seen them either,” he said with an accusing tone that all but called you a liar.
“Hey, there’s still a possibility,” you retorted. You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head back, searching the black canvas for any spark or shimmer. To your dismay, the cute stranger was right. The light pollution from the factories was enough to stave off any hopes of stargazing, even with the new moon. However, you were never taught to be a quitter. And you were certainly never taught to let boys convince yourself otherwise. “Okay, maybe not tonight, but you just have to wait for a clear forecast.”
“You’d be waiting forever. You’re better off chasing sunsets.”
“Mm, tried that too.” You shook your head in disapproval. If there was a view to be seen in this city, you could bet you had already tried to capture it to no avail. Natural wonders seemed to be allergic to this place, but you couldn’t blame them.
“Maybe you need a pair of fresh eyes.”
Even with the discouraging sentiment on stargazing, it didn’t seem like he meant it in that way. The boy held a modest grin, but you swore you saw a twinkle in his eye as he peeked through the darkness to meet your gaze. It caught your attention in an instant, like finding an oasis in the vast desert.
“Is that an invitation?” you asked.
“Maybe more of a bet.”
Your lip quirked at that. Now your interest was definitely piqued. In a world of diminishing daylight and dwindling resources, the last thing on people’s minds was frivolous adventure in the name of wagers and capturing phenomena. But maybe that was just what you needed.
“That does sound tempting.”
The boy turned at that, removing a hand from his pocket to extend it forward. It was the beginning of a bridge between you two, waiting to be built. “I’m Woonhak.”
The only sensible thing seemed to connect the bridge. As you reached forward to shake his hand, it was surprisingly soft—a rarity in these parts where boys wear hard-earned callouses from manual labor or rough play.
You introduced yourself, and he repeated your name as if testing it on his tongue. To your ears, it sounded as if it were not the first time he spoke it. You were hoping it wouldn’t be the last, either.
Woonhak broke out into a goofy smile, revealing a characteristic snaggletooth that was hard to miss. His grin earlier was welcoming, but this smile felt brighter than any star you’d seen. You had forgotten what it was like to be faced with such unsullied joy. Your own lips curved into a smile as a laugh bubbled up your chest, feeling a bit like unearthing a long-forgotten treasure that had been buried for far too long.
Your clasped hands bobbed up and down to a shared rhythm, the bridge made between two strangers, now acknowledged as acquaintances.
You got to know him at sunset.
The two of you got there early, and while the lead-up to dusk wasn’t promising, you seated yourselves at the edge of the placid waterfront nonetheless. You watched each breeze ripple across the water’s surface as you passed the time, sharing interests and anecdotes of the people you were. What were people anyway if not the culmination of their experiences?
As suspected, Woonhak was far from home. The military presence had only arrived a few years ago, and with it, so had he. The troops had set up a temporary base which included the families of some army officers. His father was a lieutenant commander, which allowed Woonhak to follow along on his journey across the country, despite having no part in the family business. Much like the rest of them, he was just a passenger on this ride to a destination unknown.
“There’s a whole street dedicated to PC and gaming rooms!” Woonhak recalled the last city he lived in, swiping a hand across the air to emphasize the length of this infamous street.
“We used to have something like that. It had a PC room, arcade, movie theater, manhwa room,” you listed, stopping yourself even though it could have gone on and on.
“Are they still open?” Woonhak looked expectant, but you shook your head. His shoulders dropped a bit at the news. “Oh, well that’s a shame.”
“Do you miss it? Your home?”
You expected a quick answer—it seemed so intuitive and obvious. But Woonhak paused for a moment, a pout appearing on his face as he mulled over the question. “You know, I moved around so much that I barely know what city I would call home.”
“You must have one that you want to go back to rather than staying here.”
“Oh, all of them.” Now that answer was quick.
“Ouch.” You reacted with a feigned wince, to which Woonhak raised his hands in front of him in a fury to explain himself.
“No offense! This place is great!”
“Don’t lie.”
“No, really. I like the, um, trees.”
“The trees?” you asked incredulously. You looked around, suspiciously seeing no trees near your current vicinity. “They don’t have trees where you’re from?”
“The trees here are especially… leafy.”
You nodded slowly, watching him squirm with an innocent smile that wasn’t fooling you one bit. “That bad, huh?”
He started with an awkward laugh that eventually turned more genuine as you laughed along with him.
The exchange of history and shared interests brought with it a nostalgia that should have been left for elders, not teenagers. You let the emotion settle as you both looked forward longingly across the water, one with the lens of a newcomer and another a veteran of this land.
You remembered this horizon as a kid. You had visited here with your father years ago when the city’s population was lower and the factories had not yet been constructed. Even back then, the view had been nothing to write home about. But now, you could hardly call it a view.
Unlike the stars that had been scared away into hiding, the sun fought—and lost—in an attempt to pierce through its concealment. All elements of the setting sun were masked by the dusty clouds and the smog of a hard day’s work. The gray and beige haze snuffed out what you could only assume was the beauty of the sun’s rays behind it.
“No luck today,” you said once enough time passed for hopes to be let down as quickly as the sun.
“Maybe another time,” Woonhak responded as sure as there will be another day. “There’s still a possibility, after all.” He flashed a cheeky grin as he repeated your previous sentiment. At first, you thought the failed sightseeing would lead to disappointment. Instead, his words brought a smile to your face and unbridled excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.
“There are actually a lot of things to see in the city—if you know where to find them.”
“Oh?” His eyes were filled with that same curiosity from when you first saw him, with just a bit of mischief shining through. If it had been the you of the past, you would not have been so forward. You would have played it safe, but that was an archaic sentiment lost on the you of the present. You had nothing to fear and nothing to lose.
“I could show you around. Maybe you’ll end up liking it here.”
Woonhak beamed at the suggestion, and from then on, you decided that it would not be a bad goal to see more of that smile. You extended an invitation, a promise of another day you two would meet, and he treated it as if it were the most valuable opportunity in the world.
“I’m gonna hold you to that offer.”
Even as the glow of the sun’s rays disappeared to leave behind a gray and navy residue, you sat with one another, exchanging stories of the lives you once knew. Two acquaintances quickly bonding over inquiry and wonder, finding yourselves sitting side-by-side as blossoming friends.
You fell for him through the late nights.
When you couldn’t find the light in the skies, you took to the streets. Scouring the city for hidden gems and treasures was just as much of a challenge, but that didn’t stop you two from trying. You stayed out in neighborhoods exploring both the abandoned and those still hanging onto life. You found your way, even as the lamps went out one by one.
You took him to places you knew, and Woonhak explored with you the places that were new. In the early days of your adventures, you would lead him down roads well-worn from your childhood as he tried to keep up. Other days, you would follow more cautiously as he scouted ahead to unfamiliar areas that should—and often did—have caution signs hung around the perimeters. Of course, sometimes the roles were reversed.
“Whoa, that’s kinda creepy.” You glanced over at the structure Woonhak was pointing his flashlight at.
It was an unassuming shop at the corner of an abandoned strip mall that had been boarded up and tagged with graffiti. There was nothing outstanding about it. Although, maybe the words TURN BACK dripping in red paint across the peeling exterior did give it a spooky vibe.
“I dare you to go in,” he said.
“Alright.”
Woonhak looked at you like you were crazy. “You serious?”
You shrugged. “Why not?”
“What if it’s haunted?”
That was not the worry you expected him to have. In your mind, it was much more realistic to run into squatters or wild animals than any sort of demon or ghoul. Still, you weren’t going to ruin the excitement of possibilities.
“There’s only one way to find out.” You started walking toward the building in full confidence, scanning the walls for some sort of entryway. You turned back when you heard no movement behind. “You coming?”
The expression on Woonhak’s face seemed very much like he wanted nothing to do with this, but you didn’t wait for his response. You continued forward, spotting a loose plank that was haphazardly left leaning against a doorway. At first glance, it seemed boarded up like everywhere else. But now that you tugged at the corner of the weathered wood, it tilted back with ease.
“Jackpot.” You outstretched a hand behind you, facing your palm toward Woonhak. “Flashlight?”
He complied without hesitation, probably because relinquishing it meant you would be taking the lead. He placed the light source into your hand, and you immediately flashed it toward the interior.
It was pitch black in there, with no moonlight allowed to trickle in through the covered windows. The beam of the flashlight was the only illumination, casting long shadows across the dusty furniture and wares still left within what looked to have been a clothing store.
You maneuvered over some debris on the floor as you entered into the darkened confines of the building. You could hear footsteps behind you as Woonhak followed suit, albeit straggling just a little slower. You moved past some deconstructed shelves and stacked boxes until you drew the spotlight to another piece of red writing on the wall.
LAST CHANCE
You swore you heard Woonhak gulp behind you.
“Okay, this place is definitely haunted.”
“I don’t think it was a ghost who wrote that.” The more probable explanation was that some of the other neighborhood kids claimed this as a hideout and didn’t want trespassers. Either that or it was some employee’s funny way of advertising a last chance sale on some discounted clothes.
“Maybe we should leave—”
“Shh.” You held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. You glanced around for good measure, acting as if you just heard a sound. Woonhak immediately had his hackles raised, scanning the surroundings along with you with a sudden urgency. It was quiet, almost too quiet, as you waited for any sign that you were not alone. Then, as Woonhak turned his attention away for a moment, you made your move.
“AHH!”
“AAUGHHHH!!!”
Woonhak’s scream echoed through the abandoned store as he nearly leapt out of his skin. You couldn’t help but cackle even as you held a finger to your ear. You were sure he took out some of your hearing with that holler. Hell, you were scared of what was left of the windows because that sonic boom could be enough to make them shatter.
“Gotcha,” you said slyly, moving the flashlight closer between the two of you.
“Come on!! Are you serious—” What followed was a string of complaints you could barely make out through his giant pout. He hopped in place, flinging his arms around him as he essentially threw a tantrum. “Ahh!! You’re going to regret this!” He tried to act serious with his threat, but you could see the slight tint of his cheeks from the embarrassment. As for yourself, you couldn’t stop laughing.
That was, until you heard a sound.
Both of your heads snapped in the direction, a sudden stillness falling over you two again. You flashed your light in the general vicinity, searching for what could have made the noise. You saw movement in the corner, and when you followed it with your light, you realized it was a mouse that had knocked over some debris. You scoffed, the tension releasing from the atmosphere.
“I think you woke the ghost up,” you joked, turning to poke fun at Woonhak. Except he was nowhere to be found.
You turned around fast enough to see him hightailing it out of the building, not bothering to look back. This left you laughing again, even as he left you hanging in the abandoned building alone. You knew that he would never live this incident down.
“All that time cooped up in the base has made you soft,” you said to him once you two rendezvoused outside of the building. You expected him to argue all the merits and tough points of being a military brat. Instead, he just frowned like a regular brat, arms crossed in front of his puffed chest.
“I’ve always been soft.”
Whether real or imagined, the dangers of exploring these areas were ever present. That was the fun of it, though. The two of you broke curfew and snuck around in the dark, finding stray resources and collectibles that were left over and undetected by the troops and volunteers that swept by. The items might not have been worth their weight in scrap, but to you and Woonhak, they were invaluable.
Your first shared treasure was a VHS player buried deep within one of the living rooms of a decrepit apartment complex. Woonhak’s cheer could probably be heard from a block away when you brought it back to your place to see that it was functional.
“This bad boy’s gonna play so many tapes,” he said, patting the top of it with a satisfied grin.
“Great! Do you have any?”
His smile wiped off his face. “No. Do you?”
“Nope.”
After that embarrassing revelation, you got to work, because there was no way you were going to let this machine go to waste. Over the next few weeks, your mission became to gather as many VHS tapes as possible—everything from The Goonies to The Breakfast Club. You huddled together in front of a vintage television under a makeshift blanket fort propped up by pillows and musty furniture. You even siphoned some energy during lights-off hours, keeping the curtains drawn and the volume low. It was your diminutive form of protest, stealing power when you were ordered to live in darkness. But what was a little bit of electricity compared to all that was robbed from you?
“What do you think happened after that?” you asked as the credits rolled after a movie one night. There was still one whole year of high school to follow the characters through, but the story was left open-ended for the audience to mull over.
“I don’t know. Happily ever after?” Woonhak said with an exaggerated stretch.
“That seems unrealistic.”
“What do you think then?”
“Honestly?” You thought for a second before shrugging. “They probably graduated and grew up into boring adults.”
“Ugh,” Woonhak responded with a groan. “I sure hope not. That’d be a bummer of a sequel.”
You just chuckled, nodding in agreement as you pressed eject on the video player.
“Probably better the movie ended where it did, then.”
The two of you went through the VCR tapes faster than what was probably recommended or sustainable. It wasn’t a worry though, because once you ran out of new content to watch, you popped the same tapes back in to enjoy a second or even third time. These movies taught you two of high school delinquents and friends with a taste for adventure, of getting in trouble but still getting home on time for dinner. Some of these themes dissolved to tint your own world in technicolor hues.
“Look at these!”
Woonhak appeared to your doorstep one day with an extra skip in his step. He spun around, extending his legs to show off what you could clearly see were pants two sizes too big. He looked a bit ridiculous, whether it was unintentional or by design. Maybe he would grow into them.
“Real vintage jeans. From the late 1900s!”
“Those are from the ‘90s.”
“I said what I said.”
Woonhak always knew how to make you laugh, even in the darkest of times. The two of you searched deserted closets and discarded garments to find more bounties. You ran around singing tunes and recycling old fabric as bandanas, cosplaying as rebels from a time far from your own. You explored in tandem, marching forward like the leaders of a rebellious gang of two with your scuffed sneakers and loose jeans. Then, you hid away again, watching retro movies of a world that once was.
Your most prized possession actually came from your father’s bedroom. Tucked away in a box underneath his bed were two walkie-talkies. They were kept with his military keepsakes that weren’t important enough to pack with him—or maybe he left them behind to keep them safe. Regardless of the reason, Woonhak easily convinced you that you would just be borrowing them for the time being.
You scavenged some batteries and repurposed the technology into your own personal toys. Yet another rule broken for your own benefit. With these walkie-talkies, you were kids again, exchanging messages and whispering secrets that no one else could hear. You were an astronaut and a space cadet, a spy and a mastermind, a ghostbuster and a medium. With these walkie-talkies, you were anything but the product of this war-torn country.
“Hawkeye to Honey Badger. Do you read me?”
Your walkie-talkie buzzed with white noise at the end of the transmission. You lifted the device up to your lips before pressing the button to speak.
“Loud and clear.”
Suspiciously, you could hear a faint static behind one of the trees lining the courtyard nearby—the very leafy tree, you might add.
“I’ve spotted my target. How should I proceed?”
It took no effort to match Woonhak’s energy, dropping your tone to be serious in your answer. “Approach with caution. The target may be armed and dangerous.”
“I’m going in, over.”
It wasn’t long before you heard a rush of footsteps behind you and a rally cry sounding too happy to be threatening. Woonhak rushed in for the tackle, swooping in low to take hold of your torso. You let out a surprised squeal as your footing slipped and you both went tumbling into the grass.
The impact of the fall was softer than you expected, and you took this opportunity to use your most effective weapon—you warned him, after all. You reached around to wiggle your fingers into Woonhak’s sides, successfully hitting him with a tickle attack. His movements became erratic as he cackled uncontrollably, and you found yourself giggling along, lungs strained with laughter as your world spun around you. The two of you rolled across the grass until a truce was called and you both lay on your backs next to each other, dizzy but with great smiles on your faces. If this was him enacting revenge, you didn’t mind it at all.
Your heart was racing when your hands first touched. It was just the faintest brush of your knuckles, almost as if by accident. Except your fingers nudged against his again, daring to push the boundaries. With that, he quickly enveloped your hand, holding it in such a way that couldn’t send any mixed signals.
Through these nights, you fell into a rhythm and for each other. First following one another, and now side by side. Your footsteps aligned, your breaths intermingled, your hands intertwined. And once you were fully in each other’s grasp, you never wanted to let go.
You dreamed of a brighter future on the horizon.
Not every evening was a success. In fact, the majority of them could be considered failings, your prizes obscured by pollution of both light and air. But once in a blue moon, you would be blessed with a glimpse of something special.
The sixth time was the charm. There was a break in the clouds for merely a short moment, the smog letting up just enough to allow the light in. A sliver of orange filtered through the monotone sky that had been painted above your heads, reflecting off of the river below, as you and Woonhak watched on. The rare phenomenon had your undivided attention. You stood on the bridge, leaning forward as far as the railing would safely allow, hoping to catch this elusive sunset. It was like catching sight of a mythical being. The splash of color painted warmth across the landscape, like a flash of what could be. A sight of maybe what awaited you at the end of all this.
As quickly as it arrived, it vanished.
You let out a sigh, a breath mixed with amazement and parting sorrow. The skyline left behind was still thrumming with a warm tone, but it faded far too swiftly. While it had been a remarkable view, it left you wanting more. Like those films of youth and summer vacations by the beach, you wanted to experience that bold, almost oppressive warmth.
“The sunsets in Busan must be amazing this time of year,” you wondered out loud, remembering the visages from magazines and movies.
“I lived there for a while!” Woonhak exclaimed, flaunting with his chest puffed.
Your eyes lit up. “Really? How was it?”
“I was too young to remember.”
You visibly deflated, throwing a playful punch at his arm. It was like pushing a button that extracted a complaint and a laugh from him. “Don’t get my hopes up like that.”
“My mom liked it, so I’m sure it was great.” He paused before correcting himself. “Probably still is.”
You heaved another dreamy sigh. “I’ve always wanted to go.”
The entire world was all facing toward the same burning star in the sky, but somehow each perspective was vastly different. The sun was like a tired mistress here, rising and falling just because it was expected of her, kept under a veil to shield her from prying eyes. But the Busan sun seemed like a newlywed bride, flourishing and flaunting her beauty for the whole coast to see.
“Will you take me with you?” Woonhak asked.
It was a rather innocent question, but you felt the anticipation behind it. You craned your neck to look at him as you leaned on the railing together, shoulder to shoulder. His imploring gaze made you realize you hadn’t even considered a future where he wasn’t there with you, basking in the true dusk of a clear sky.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You leaned in for a chaste kiss, capturing his lips with a newfound resolution. You could feel him smile against your lips as he deepened the kiss. In this moment, it felt like you sealed a promise. When you parted, you shared a meaningful look, your smiles never falling from your faces.
Woonhak shifted to stand behind you like a pillar of safety. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight, nuzzling his cheek closer to yours. You placed your hands over his arms, letting yourself lean back snugly against him in full trust.
“You know, the sun is just a star in our solar system,” you recited as the remnants of day soon descended into night.
“Well, no wonder our luck’s terrible,” Woonhak said with a huff. “We’ve been trying to chase starlight all this time.”
A smile curled on your lips as you both watched the same darkening sky. “Maybe we’ll have better luck somewhere else.”
“I heard there’s real sunsets in L.A.,” he said into your ear.
It felt like a promise. Another one you exchanged with no need for further words.
There might not be sunlight filtering through the dark storm of dust and carbon, but you felt a different type of warmth in Woonhak’s secure embrace. A warmth that brought up the image of the trickling sunlight you just bore witness to. While it had been painfully brief, it now lived in your memories where you would keep it safe. You might even nurture it and let it grow into a dream, looking forward to the days when you could save dazzling horizons and brilliant skies into your precious bank of memories.
“Let’s go see it together.”
You lost him at sunrise.
It was your initial fear when you awoke at dawn to the city’s commotion of rumbling engines and stomping feet. You could hear it even from your home, despite being further in the suburbia, and it left an uneasy feeling that drove you to start the day early. You turned on the news to get a sense of what was going on but obtained no helpful information whatsoever. It was to be expected—these broadcasts didn’t give the people true updates, only the usual placations for its citizens or diversions for potential eavesdroppers. It was only when you stepped out of your home that a neighbor returning from his graveyard shift at the factory broke the news.
“The troops are all leaving. Heard it was a ‘tactical retreat.’ They’re heading back inland to the new base.”
The jaded neighbor went into more detail, reeling off a long list of grievances with how the base was built with their blood, sweat, and tears. The efforts and materials put forth by the factory laborers of this city were all being hauled out of its origin to go fortify this new rendezvous point. But you weren’t listening. You were panicking.
You took off down the street without another thought, ignoring the last grumble of protest toward the military presence from the unhappy worker behind you.
“Good riddance.”
The streets were crowded and rife with action by the time you made it downtown. All down the main road, military personnel were loaded into trucks and vans heading out eastward. Vehicles roved and soldiers marched on toward the rising sun, its young rays peeking over the inhabitants who have all been rudely awakened at this early hour. It seemed that the neighbor’s intel was right. The troops were all departing. But even as you watched them with your own eyes, you couldn’t believe it to be true.
He had promised.
Breathless from your urgent sprint, you rushed forward to follow alongside the fleeting formation. Your gaze swept across the faces for any sense of familiarity, for anyone’s gaze to meet yours, but everyone kept their eyes locked forward. They didn’t bother to pay a random teenager any mind, even as you raced to the front of the exit route and waited as each soul passed you by.
You watched carefully, scanning the faces that came and went in the windows of each truck. You even peered at each officer’s uniform, trying to spot the telltale stripes and star that would signify a lieutenant commander. You stood resolute at the edge of that road, braving the dirt and debris that got kicked up to burn your eyes and sting your lungs. You tried to hold onto hope, but each beat of a soldier’s step or exhaust’s backfire drove the stake deeper in your heart until fractures spread across its surface. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last, but you withstood it until the very last soldiers passed the threshold, leaving behind only tire tracks and scattered footprints.
At the end of it all, you were left with an empty road and the sun’s diffused light high in the dusty sky.
The walk home was unbearable in more ways than one. Your dry eyes and hoarse throat were made worse as you choked down the sobs that threatened to rise up. It was a struggle to breathe, even as you wandered back into your neighborhood and away from the urban sprawl. You held it together, hands clutching at your own arms as you drew them in tight toward your torso. You felt as if you would fall apart if you didn’t.
But then you saw him.
A lonely figure paced back and forth on your front porch. His rigid posture exhibited almost as much distress as you felt, the frenetic energy emanating from his harried steps on the faded wood. Your breath finally caught in your throat when he looked up with widened eyes. The moment your gazes met, Woonhak rushed forward.
You found yourself running, your hands letting go of yourself as you reached out to him. The impact was almost painful as Woonhak drew you into a bone-crushing embrace. The air knocked out of your lungs, and you flung your arms over his shoulders to cling onto his taller form. In that instant, you let yourself fall apart in his arms, and he held you impossibly tighter. Behind him, you saw his walkie-talkie laying strewn by the front doormat. You had stupidly left yours behind in your bedroom.
“I thought they took you away,” you managed to say in between your tears that had begun flowing.
“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
His words were assured, but his voice trembled with a great effort to keep himself steady. To keep from breaking, too. It was a frivolous attempt, because soon enough, you could hear his stifled sobs by your ear as he pressed his face into your neck.
You couldn’t imagine what he was feeling, what he was going through. Woonhak’s family had gone without him, whether willingly or not. Instead of sitting on one of those caravans with them, he was standing on this empty street with you—and that was willingly. You continued to hold onto one another with desperation and a settling realization that you now understood what it meant to be two lovers who had each other completely.
He had promised, and he had remained.
You placed your faith in the constellations.
It was amazing what a little imagination could do for humankind. It was sometimes the driving force behind people’s lives when the days became too dreary and the nights droned on in an identical manner. People often saw it as a privilege to be creative, but at times it could be necessary.
“There’s the Big Dipper,” you recited, pointing your index finger to the northern sky. The formation of stars was easy to spot if you knew where to look, coming together to connect the mental picture of a tilted ladle. It was always found in the night sky year-round, never disappearing below the horizon. Or, it wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t lost on you that your finger traced over nothing, but Woonhak’s eyes still followed. “They also call it the Seven Stars of Fate.”
“Sounds pretty important,” Woonhak responded, turning his head to regard you. You both lay on your favorite secluded hill, one you two claimed with a small flag made from a wooden skewer and crumpled snack wrapper. Here, you could rest with your backs on the grass and eyes on the blanket of night. “Why’s it called that?”
“People prayed to it in the past. They believed that the constellation oversaw fate, lifespans, and…”
“And?”
You ducked your eyes to meet Woonhak’s. “The protection of children.”
Everything from birth to death, each star in the Big Dipper was believed to write and erase names from the Book of Life. It was a story passed down through the generations, once viewed as a belief as true as water flowed downstream, now more of a folktale of forces beyond your time.
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a few stars.”
“Yeah, it is,” you agreed solemnly. “But you gotta place your faith in something.”
You wondered how those people were like in the past, praying to a deity in the stars they could not see. Attributing good fortune to being heard by the heavens while the ignored suffered with bad omens. In a way, it was admirable, holding onto a blind faith in spite of any challenges they faced. To be honest, you were starting to understand how that must have felt.
“Look there. Do you think that’s a star?” You pointed up in the sky again as both of your attentions shifted toward the space. You knew the answer already. It was just a satellite in orbit, a single light in the otherwise bleak span of the night. But you had imagination on your side.
“Absolutely.” Woonhak just smiled at you brightly, and you wanted to believe it more than anything. “We should give it a name.”
“What do you have in mind?”
He hummed, taking a long pause to ponder. “The Little Helper.”
You had to stop yourself from snorting, an amused smile tugging at your mouth. With how long he took to come up with the answer, you expected it to be some sort of profound name.
“The Little Helper?” you repeated as a question.
Woonhak just nodded cheerfully. “Or also called the Eighth Star of Fate. It can share some of the responsibility and help out the Big Dipper.”
Your laughter subsided, but a soft smile was left on your face as you appreciated the sweet boy next to you. Time and time again, he never ceased to amaze you.
The two of you continued to spend the night drawing constellations with your fingers outstretched into the air. To the two of you, the empty sky was just a blank canvas waiting to be drawn on. You lay on your backs in this grassy knoll, his warm hand held constant over yours as he guided your finger to connect the imaginary dots. Each of these dots held meaning, held potential. It held the trust that these stars were right where they would be. You might not see them at this very moment, but you knew they were there.
Stars weren’t snuffed out that easily.
Maybe they wouldn’t be there for eternity—you wouldn’t go as far as to hope for that—but maybe they would bless the earth for at least the next 50, 100, or even 400 years. Strangely, it felt like a nice, concrete number, carrying more promise than the abstraction of forever. It was a mere blip in the greater timeline of the universe, so maybe the universe would be more willing to grant that small wish. Maybe the stars would be more willing to listen.
You wished the night didn’t end.
The earth shook as the lights went out this time. The source was distant but strong enough to cause a jolt in the home’s foundation and a drop in your stomach. There was a small crash in the living room as everything went pitch black. You stood frozen for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the sudden change. Thankfully, a bit of moonlight trickled in from the window to light your path as you carefully stepped forward out of your room.
When you made it into the living room to investigate the noise, you noticed an object laying on the middle of your wooden floor. Nearing closer, you recognized it to be a picture frame that must have been knocked off of the mantle above. You stooped down to gingerly pick it up from its faced-down position. While no glass or broken pieces littered the surroundings, a large crack ran straight across the expanse of the clear pane.
It was a picture of your father.
You had never been a religious person, but you felt a instinctive pull to pray in that moment. You weren’t sure who you were praying to, whether it was a starry entity from the past or an all-knowing figure from the present. All you knew was that you felt like a child again, holding your father close to your chest as the darkness cradled you like a doting guardian. It felt neither chilling nor comforting. It just was.
You didn’t know how long you knelt there in the middle of your home when you heard the familiar crack of static. Muffled words resonated from your bedroom as your walkie-talkie sprung to life. You couldn’t catch the content, but you knew it only meant one thing.
Woonhak was nearby.
Picking yourself up off the ground, you made a beeline toward your room. You pushed aside your pillow to reveal the walkie-talkie just as another message transmitted through.
“Hey, can you hear me?”
You picked up the device, pressing the button to respond. “Loud and clear.” A burst of white noise signaled he was speaking again.
“I’m in front of your house. If you’re not asleep, let’s go on a walk.”
It was an invitation that normally would send a giddy flutter through your heart. But rather than a spike upward, you felt your chest sink into the words. You were no strangers to the late nights, fully prepared to face the dangers of getting caught or stumbling in the shadow. You had written your story in the dark, illuminated only by the TV screen or the infrequent flashlight. Tonight was no different, you told yourself. You breathed out, allowing for just a brief moment to let your heart rise once more before replying.
“I’ll be right out.”
Leaving your walkie-talkie behind, you stepped back into your living room. You carefully placed the photo frame upright back onto the mantle, regarding the face of your father one more time before heading out the front. You didn’t bother to lock the door behind you.
All thoughts left your head when you saw Woonhak standing a few paces away from your porch with his gaze held high. He was shaded under the lightless street, but as soon as he set his eyes on you, his entire expression lit up. An immense smile greeted you, and you swore it was enough to brighten the entire area from one end of the road to the next.
“What are you doing here?” you asked as you stepped forward to meet him.
“There were so many stars in the sky, so I wanted to walk with you for a bit.”
That was when you finally looked up. For the first time in your life, you saw the stars. Thousands of twinkling lights that could never be mistaken for anything other than what they were. The skies were strikingly clear, opening up the faint outline of an entire galaxy watching over you. Your smile matched Woonhak’s, stretching across your face so wide it almost hurt. There were far too many dots to count, but you wanted to connect them all.
“Let’s get a better view!” You took Woonhak’s hand and led him through the paths you were most familiar with.
Not one streetlamp was on as you traversed the terrain, but it was okay. The light from the stars above guided you on your journey. Your necks craned back to keep their eyes on the miracle, running as fast as you could through the sidewalks and alleyways. Your shoes hit the pavement, echoing through the otherwise silent atmosphere until a fit of laughter rose to join in the harmony.
“Look at us,” Woonhak called out into the cool night air, breath hitching with each stride. “We’re like a scene from one of our movies!”
He was right. As you laughed wholeheartedly, louder than you had in a very long time, it felt like the two of you were the stars of your own youth film. You felt like a firework ready to explode, oxygen and glee caught in your throat from the exertion of the prolonged run. Still, you persisted, running and running until your entire beings burned almost as bright as the stars. Your legs protested as you two trekked up the steep hill you had once met on until finally, you stood overlooking the city before you.
It was uncanny, standing at this vantage point to witness a completely novel scene. The entire city was blacked out, from the residential neighborhoods to even the factories at the outer border. It felt like a world flipped upside down, as if the stars swiped the lights straight from the city and painted their once-blank canvas with wondrous glowing colors.
The more you blinked, the more stars seemed to become visible with nothing to hide them anymore. You wanted to check for all the constellations, point out each and every one now that they were in full view. You wanted to capture them in your memory: Cassiopeia, Draco, the Big Dipper. But your eyes didn’t stay upward for long, because you realized in all this breathless wonder and dire excitement, you had something more important you wanted to capture.
And when you looked down at Woonhak, you saw that he was already staring back at you.
Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. You didn’t realize it until they weren’t anymore. Woonhak drew closer, slipping his fingers with yours and clasping you steady, grounding you and keeping you from floating away. He gazed at you like you were the only person in the world—the only thing that mattered. And you believed it. You believed it to be truer than any fact of the universe, and you didn’t need the power of the constellations to confirm that.
So, you kissed him. You threw your arms around his neck and he pulled you close by the waist. You felt like a puzzle piece, resting into a place created just for you, the only place you fit. The only place you wanted to be.
Late nights, shining stars, and sunsets didn’t mean a thing without him. Even as the stars refused to shine and the sun hid from sight, these were not missed opportunities but precious memories. Time and shared space were few and far between in this realm, but you chased them like an eclipse—together. And you longed for the days to relive them. Not for their beautiful views but for him.
“I love you,” you whispered when you pulled away.
Your desperate confession was met with a tearful smile. It broke your heart and mended it again, because only he could hurt and heal you in this moment. Woonhak leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours as a sorrowful laugh wracked through his body.
“I love you, too.”
All the stars in the sky, and yet you were staring at each other. Despite the darkness, the two of you burned the brightest—more than any star above your heads or sun across the horizons. You were the main characters of your own story, and the universe finally came out of hiding to become your witness.
Above you, the stars began to shine impossibly brighter. Then, they began to fall. Even as the lights streaked down across the night sky, blooming to reach the level of daylight, you remained in each other’s arms.
After all, the brightest stars burned the fastest.
contents: vampires!jayhoon, dom!verse!jay, sub!verse!hoon, figure skater!hoon, heavy mentions of blood, descriptions of death and violence, some angst, mutual obsession and unhealthy relationships, questionable religious undertones, porn w/ plot, anal sex, unprotected sex (don't!), dom/sub dynamic, lots of biting, marking, they're both masochists tbh, possessive behavior and language, body worship, down bad jayhoon, first time, multiple orgasms, light choking, filthy messy bloody sex, lmk if I miss any!
sum: Thrown into his new life during one unfortunate night, Sunghoon is forced to find his footing as a freshly turned vampire. He stumbles upon a group just like him at the right place and time, and is met face to face with a man that makes him understand why some devote lifetimes to worship.
auth note: this took way longer to finish than I'd have liked, but it's here!! I'm currently in the middle of experimenting with my writing style so I apologize if this seems a bit inconsistent at times! shout out to my hoon biased bestie @woongisi (go read their work) for all their unhinged inspiration while working on this!!
playlist: him - join me in death, sleep token - the offering, arctic monkeys - I wanna be yours, sleep token - jericho, hozier - it will come back
The past thirty-six hours of Sunghoon's life have been a blood drenched blur. Everything felt like it was pulsing. His heart thundered in his ears, slamming painfully against his ribcage with each ragged breath he never got the chance to catch. Everything was too loud. Too fast. Too much. Sunghoon felt frenzied - he felt scared. A hunger he's never experienced clawed at him from the inside, every nerve ending alight with the urge to sink his teeth into something alive.
Sunghoon barely had the time to fully let the panic of what he's become settle into his bones, refusing to stop for even a second as the blaring sounds of alarms and thudding footsteps stayed hot on his heels. He practically skids into an alleyway, dark and muggy in the downpour of rain. His arm scrapes against rough brick, blood beading to the surface of his skin beneath torn fabric but it's the least of Sunghoon's worries - he doesn't even register the sting in his adrenaline. He would have long given into the incessant urge to maime the officers hounding him if not for the little bit of sense he still desperately clung to. He knew there were too many, and they had weapons. So he forces himself to be smart, to hide.
Sunghoon throws himself against the cold brick of the alley wall with a grunt, hissing at the way his body aches. He's completely drenched, hair and clothes soaked and dripping as the rain continues to pour. The sound is enough to mask his movements, a particularly loud crack of lightning making him nearly jump out of his skin.
"Fuck." he grits, clenching his jaw in an attempt to quell the way his teeth ache, canines sharp and throbbing.
Man, fuck this.
He tries to catch his breath, head snapping towards the entrance of the alleyway. Sunghoon makes direct eye contact with one of the men that have been chasing him, just barely ducking out of the way as he immediately fires in his direction. Fear bolts through him again, white hot and alive. Sunghoon doesn't waste time, shoving off of the brick and forcing his legs to carry him as fast as they can to put distance between him and their terrifying persistence. If only he could lose them for a second-
Everything tilts when Sunghoon is grabbed and roughly yanked by the arm the moment he reaches the edge of the building, forcing a strained yelp from his throat. It takes Sunghoon a whole second to register that his body has been shoved up against another person's, forcibly removed out of his attacker's line of sight. Sunghoon tries to break free, but they hold him steady with a firm arm hooked around his back.
When his eyes shift upwards, Sunghoon is met with the face of a man - no - vampire. He can tell only because he holds the same unsettling perfection that he does. He's disheveled, messy blond wet hair and just as drenched from the rain as him. He holds a handgun in the hand he isn't using to keep Sunghoon still, back pressed firm to the cold brick as his chest rises and falls rapidly against his own. He hasn't even looked at him - intense molten eyes fixed on the direction he pulled Sunghoon from.
Silence hangs heavy for a few beats, eerily quiet save for the persistent rain. The man finally looks at Sunghoon, barely a glance in his direction but the intensity is enough to make him feel glad that he seems to be on his side.
"When I tell you to run," His hold on Sunghoon loosens slightly as he speaks, "You run."
Footsteps begin to approach fast, another torrent of stimulation to the hectic state of his being. The second the man lets go of Sunghoon and tells him to move with a shove, he books it. He hears shots behind him, followed by more running. Sunghoon doesn't dare stop.
"Two blocks to the left." The man behind Sunghoon yells, and he only catches it in the corner of his eye as he skates around the corner - the sight of him ripping through the jugular of an officer's throat with his teeth.
"Fuck fuck fuck," his voice comes out panicked, splashing through puddles with every frantic step he takes. Sunghoon watches the street lights as they fly by, muscles burning under his skin from the exertion of hours of running. One more block. Sunghoon doesn't know what to expect when he gets there, but he prays for safety. Another ringing gunshot somewhere behind makes Sunghoon flinch. He just wants it all to stop.
Finally making it to the second block, Sunghoon dashes around the corner. He sees what's waiting for him immediately, a large black van with three other men. They're like him. Sunghoon feels like he could cry at the possibility of safety being within his grasp. One of the men motion him their way quickly, and Sunghoon forces himself to move faster than he ever has. Once within reach, the other man practically hauls Sunghoon into the back of the vehicle, leaving him stumbling into the confines of the cold metal box. He yells for the blond to hurry, and that's when Sunghoon catches his name. Riki.
Sunghoon catches his footing, stood on shaky legs behind the other when he sees Riki round the corner. His front is drenched in blood now, staining the front of his soaked white shirt, dripping from his chin with every drop of rain that cascades down his face. He lunges into the back of the van, slamming the doors shut with a grunt.
"Won, go!" the other pounds on the side of the vehicle twice before Sunghoon is lurched forward as the van starts to move.
Sunghoon curses under his breath, sitting down on the bench behind him as he desperately tries to catch his breath and ease the burning in his lungs. He feels overwhelmed, so many emotions surging through him as his mind processes the situation he's in, the people sitting across from him. He really takes in what Riki looks like now in the brief moment of silence. He's strikingly beautiful, intense cat like features and noticeably bigger than him. The man beside him gives off a similar intensity, jet black hair, sharp jaw, perfectly tan skin. He's captivating. Sweeping up Sunghoon's attention like the tide. Something about him sticks with Sunghoon, the kind of beauty that feels holy.
He watches Sunghoon right back for a few dragging seconds, an easy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. "I'm Jay, this is Riki." He gives a small gesture towards the blond beside him. "You got a name?"
"Uh—" Sunghoon pauses briefly before remembering how to answer that question, softly giving him his name. Jay nods as he repeats it back quietly. Silence falls again, leaving Sunghoon to fidget as his mind wanders. So much has happened in such a short amount of time, and now here he is in the back of a van with strangers that probably just saved his life. He feels exhausted, muscles aching and a gnawing hunger still chewing at him from the inside. He doesn't know how to handle all of this, really. His entire life changed in the matter of a few minutes, and ever since the agonizing pain began it's been nothing but hell. Ultimately, he just wishes that none of this were real. Sunghoon curls in on himself where he sits, body jostling slightly as the van travels over bumpy roads. He knows exactly what he's become, but even allowing himself to think of the word sends a nauseating feeling rippling through him. This isn't what he wanted - but then again, who ever does?
Sunghoon glances at the others across from him again, thinking about the ways in which they must've met the same fate, how they probably didn't want it either. Neither of them speak again for the rest of the trip to wherever it is they're headed, and Sunghoon finds himself welcoming the silence. Finally being granted a moment to think, to process how different everything has become so quickly. His life had stopped, dead yet alive. Everything he knew was no longer his, ripped from his grasp in one agonizing moment like he never had the choice to hold onto it. He thinks about his family, a distant yet warm presence he's sure he'll never feel again. He thinks about his passion, how he's been forced to abandon the rink that felt like home. He thinks about God, not ever being the particularly religious type, but his turning has left him feeling something he can't place, like something has carved out a cavern in his being - his soul. He's left to question what living even really means. What's next for him. If these people will turn out to be a blessing or a curse. If he can bring himself to endure the gnawing hunger - as if he has a choice.
When the van finally stops, Sunghoon drags himself back to the present. Riki exits the back first, Jay waits for Sunghoon and they exit together. He takes in his surroundings, a dimly lit garage with flickering florescents and the faint smell of engine oil. Two other men exit the van, and Sunghoon doesn't bother to hide the way his eyes rake over them. He's too exhausted to pretend. The driver, the one Jay had simply called 'Won', stands shorter than Sunghoon. Messy black hair, big coat, sharp eyes. Next to him, the other has a slightly bigger build. Nearly shoulder length brown hair pushed back messily, soft lips and kind eyes.
Jay clears his throat beside Sunghoon, "This is Jungwon and Jake, Sunoo should be back soon." He then nods towards the entrance to the house as he begins to walk away after exchanging a knowing look with the two, and Sunghoon follows quietly after greeting the two with hands shoved into his pockets. His clothes are still wet, no longer dripping but still uncomfortable and cold.
Following Jay inside, Sunghoon's eyes scan over the expanse of the kitchen they enter. It's neat, tall ceilings and black granite countertops with an island neatly placed in the middle of the tiled floor. Some photos decorate the walls, quiet artistic pieces in simple dark wood frames.
"So," Jay leads Sunghoon into the living room, same vibe as the kitchen with dark furniture and ambient lighting. He turns to face Sunghoon, a gentle smile directed his way, "We have a spare room, it just needs cleaned up a bit."
Sunghoon's lips twitch at the implication. That he could stay here, with them. He nods slowly, shifting a little on his feet in an attempt to shake the uncomfortable feeling still sitting deep in his bones. "You're okay with me staying? You don't even know me,"
Jay shrugs, leading him down the hall with a lazy wave of his hand. "Jake saw you while we were in some trouble ourselves, refused to let us go home till we helped you out," He pushes open a door, leading Sunghoon into what he assumes in the spare room he mentioned earlier. A few boxes sit about on various surfaces. "Riki wanted to get you himself. I trust their judgement, and we wouldn't have drove you back with us if we didn't have the intention of letting you stay."
Sunghoon nods slowly, eyes following Jay as he moves about the room, taking boxes and putting them in the hall to be moved elsewhere. He carries himself with a confidence that holds Sunghoon's attention, black hair falling into his eyes every time he bends down to lift or set down a box.
"So," Jay starts, leaning against the doorframe as he looks at Sunghoon again. "How'd you turn?"
Jay's attentive eyes take in Sunghoon's appearance, deep crimson swirling in his irises. He takes in the way he carries himself, uncertain and unsteady in his body but still strikingly gorgeous. Taller than himself by a few inches and noticeably well taken care of even in his disheveled state, judging by the muscle visible under his damp hoodie. Jay's gaze lingers on Sunghoon's face a little longer than it should - as if cataloguing all the little details of his features. Thick brows, strong nose, plush lips, the little mole placed perfectly on the bridge of his nose by his eye.
Sunghoon shifts a little where he stands, brows knitting together as the bleary memories flash through his mind like some horror show. The deafening downpour of rain on his late walk home after practice. The blur of suddenly being attacked by several people. The pain. God, the pain… the memory still makes him feel sick. Left alone in that grimey alley like a grave while everything faded, then exploded - in hunger, in fear, in the worst physical and mental pain he's ever experienced.
He shudders, shaking the memories from the forefront of his mind, "I got jumped on my walk home two days ago," he finally responds quietly, watching Jay's expression shift into one of pity. It puts a pit in his stomach.
"Geez… this is all a lot at once then." Jay says softly, sighing as he runs his fingers through his hair. He studies the look on Sunghoon's face in the silence, the familiar unease radiating off of him like a physical thing. He decides to direct attention elsewhere.
"I'll see if Riki will lend you some clothes, his'll fit you better than mine." Jay says with a soft laugh, "You can make yourself comfortable in here. You're safe, I promise. I know this is a lot, but we'll help you." He smiles softly at Sunghoon before disappearing down the hall.
Jay's words sit heavy with Sunghoon in the silence of the room, chewing at his bottom lip as he peels his damp hoodie off of his chilled body. His knuckles brush over the rough bite scar forever branding his skin, sending another rolling wave of nausea through him. The jagged indents from teeth tearing into his flesh sit low on his neck, bleeding into the space where it meets his shoulder. two more stay forever etched into his skin along with it. One on his left bicep, the deep scar pale and slightly raised. The other located at his nape, jagged and distinct beneath the dark hair that just barely covers it. He drops the torn and damp garment on the back of the desk chair beside the bed, quiet as he takes in the surroundings of what is now his new space.
When Jay returns he's holding an armful of clothes. He knocks softly on the doorframe before entering, setting the items down on the desk as his eyes linger on Sunghoon a little longer than they should. "Something comfortable for now, the bathrooms just down the hall if you want to take a shower."
Sunghoon gives him a weak smile, "Thank you… for all of this." He finds it difficult to look Jay in the face, something about the quiet intensity of his eyes making his stomach do weird things.
Jay smiles back, soft and warm, "Course. Know it's what I needed when I was fresh, so." There's a beat of silence before he speaks again, "You've eaten, yeah?"
Sunghoon feels uneasy at the question, still not wanting to really dwell on what he's had to do in the past couple days, "Yeah… a cop, and a few animals." He responds with a weak laugh, but Jay just nods thoughtfully.
"Okay, that's good. Since you're still adjusting you'll need to feed more than we do, but I can help you with that." He's leaned against the desk now, a few steps from where Sunghoon stands. "Not all of us really like feeding directly from humans, so we keep a supply here. It'll make it easier for you to get used to it."
•••
The next month passes by slowly. Sunghoon spends most of it kept to himself, save for the late nights sat on the couch with Jay or Riki. Or the hours spent doing random tasks with Jay just to exist in his comforting orbit. Or the times where he's woken up from his sleep in a cold sweat and so hungry he couldn't see straight. It wasn't so much the feeling of hunger that bothered him anymore - but the intensity of it. The way it felt violent, raw. It was getting easier, sure, day by day becoming less of an animalistic clawing and more of a dull need - something similar to normal. Whatever that was anymore. He tried not to think about it too much, bleeding something dry to sustain himself. The way it's started to bother him less and less. The others had started to teach him how to hunt a couple days ago, mostly Riki. Sunghoon found himself clicking well with him, the two easily sharing comfortable silence where neither felt pressured to entertain each other. They could just be. It was similar with Jay, but something else sat beneath their growing bond. Something Sunghoon was too afraid to let himself dive too deep into, worried it'd swallow him whole.
Tonight, Sunghoon sits sleeplessly in his room. He'd long given up on trying, switching on the desk lamp and focusing instead on organizing his small amount of belongings. He's always been meticulous about keeping his things neat, a habit he continues to hold onto to feel a sense of normalcy. It reminds him that regardless of what he is, he's still himself. After moving the same things around three different times to make sure he likes where they're placed, he decides to leave it be. Pulling a hoodie on over his tank top - one of Riki's that he's adopted - Sunghoon leaves his room. He quietly pads down the hall, careful not to disturb the other boys. He's not shocked to find Jay when he enters the living room, sat comfortably sideways on the couch with a book in hand.
Sunghoon's presence pulls Jay from his concentration, eyes lifting from his book and giving a soft smile "Can't sleep?" He sounds tired himself, and Sunghoon's eyes follow the movement of his hand coming up to run fingers through his messy hair.
"Not even a little," Sunghoon laughs lightly, rounding the couch to sit. He can fully see Jay now, dressed in a black tank top and sweatpants that hang low on his hips. He looks unfairly good. Sunghoon sits himself down with a cushion between them, sinking into the plush leather.
Silence falls in the room again, but Sunghoon is hyper aware of the feeling of Jay's eyes on him. It's not an uncomfortable feeling, but one that makes Sunghoon feel like he's really being seen. It's been that way since the day they met, Jay's attentive perception always slowly undoing Sunghoon's walls. It wasn't unwelcome, and Sunghoon wasn't really sure how to feel about the way he both felt a pull towards Jay and the instinct to draw back.
"What's on your mind?" Jay breaks the silence first, setting his book on the coffee table to give Sunghoon his full attention. When Sunghoon finally looks back at him, he's still got that gentle smile quirking the corner of his lips that makes his stomach flip.
"I don't know, just…" Sunghoon's eyes don't stay on Jay long, playing with the sleeves of his hoodie as he stares at the black screen of the TV across the room. "Been hard to sleep since that day." he sighs, "Been getting easier though, I guess."
Jay hums thoughtfully, shifting a little where he sits. "It'll just be life eventually. Like it's always been this way." It's Sunghoon's turn to hum in response, looking at Jay again but pointedly avoiding his eyes.
Jay's brows knit together slightly, then, head tilting to the side just a little as that gentle smile morphs into something a bit more mischievous.
"Why can't you ever look me in the eyes?"
Sunghoon's stomach drops. He feels heat creep up onto his cheeks, and despite himself he fully looks away from Jay now, eyes focusing on anything but the man beside him. "I can, just never really been one for eye contact." a lie.
"You can make eye contact with Riki just fine. Everyone else, actually." Jay leans forward, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with something unspoken, "Yet when it's me, it's like you're trying not to collapse in on yourself."
That attentiveness. The way Jay is able to pick him apart so easily, it makes Sunghoon feel exposed. He risks a glance at Jay, and immediately regrets it. He's closer now, an easy smile adorning his perfect features. He's beautiful - too pretty for his own good. The kind of beauty that puts people on their knees. Sunghoon knows he isn't immune to it, and that's what scares him. He tries to look away, but Jay is quick to stop him with a hand cupping his jaw. He holds him captive in a gentle yet assertive touch, leaving the option for Sunghoon to move away if he really wanted to. He doesn't even try. He's drowning the moment their eyes lock.
Jay doesn't speak for a few long moments, just holds Sunghoon there with a simple touch to drink in the way he looks. Tousled hair from failed attempts at sleep. Deep red eyes just barely holding his stare. The neck of his hoodie pooling low to show the defined contour of his collarbones. He looks soft like this, gentle. That quiet intensity stripped away the moment he's alone with Jay, a fact that has the other bristling with confidence and something warm that sits in his chest.
"Do I make you nervous?"
It's a simple question, but the answer is loaded. Sunghoon still doesn't move away, doesn't rip his gaze away from Jay. He feels so much in his chest, in the space between them. The way Jay makes him feel like he never died, makes him feel alive.
"The way you make me feel does," Sunghoon responds quietly. He knows it's too soon - every single bit of this. But for some reason, it feels like it doesn't matter. After all, they're both dead. Immortal. Vampires. Who's to say what rules, if there ever truly were any, they need to follow?
Jay is quiet for a beat, that warm smile that makes Sunghoon's dead heart do flips never leaving his lips. His thumb caresses over the apple of Sunghoon's cheek, "And what do I make you feel?"
Sunghoon let's him move closer, let's the distance between them get shorter, let's the smell of woody colonge and blood and something uniquely Jay fill his lungs. His hand finds Jay's knee, feeling cool skin beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants. Their noses brush, Sunghoon's eyes flitting down to Jay's plush lips.
"Like I could drown in you." His voice is barely above a whisper, the words still feeling too heavy to put into the air, but Jay doesn't even flinch.
"Then do it," Jay says, hushed, before he's pressing his lips to Sunghoon's. The kiss feels like an electric shock to Sunghoon's system. A warmth pooling low in his belly as he presses right back with a satisfied hum.
The next few moments feel like a slow blur as the kiss deepens. Everything feels soft around the edges, Jay ever so gentle with the way he tilts Sunghoon's head to kiss him deeper, the way he pulls him closer. Sunghoon's hands find home on Jay's chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his cold palms as his body shifts to face the older more. They finally part moments later, foreheads pressed together as they share soft labored breaths in the silence.
For Sunghoon, everything else has melted away in the moment. Nothing else matters - his entire being anchored to where the two of them connect. The pull is devastating, like everything he's experienced has led him to this exact moment where he's pressed close to Jay in the silence of night. He could stay right here forever if he'd let him.
"I'm sorry if that was too soon," Jay breaks the silence quietly, gentle voice ghosting over Sunghoon's lips. His thumb brushes over the line of his jaw, hand rested on Sunghoon's neck.
Sunghoon let's out a soft laugh, reverent eyes taking in the features of Jay's infuriatingly perfect face. He's beginning to understand why people devote lifetimes to worshipping someone. "I don't think that matters for us." he responds, hushed.
"Maybe you're right." Jay smiles softly, pulling Sunghoon with him as he leans back onto the couch. Sunghoon follows easily, settling against the other like he was always meant to be there.
They fall back into blissful silence, Sunghoon's face buried in the crook of Jay's neck as the other holds him close with an arm around his back, fingers pressed into his side. Sunghoon breathes him in, let's his lungs drown in the smell of him. As time passes they morph into a mess of tangled limbs on the couch, of slow kisses and gentle touches. The rest of the world has fallen away. The gnawing hunger. The anxiety that pools in the pit of Sunghoon's stomach from the inherint danger of what they are. It's just them, two people taking solace in one another and letting themselves feel without shame.
Whatever the cruel world outside may have to say be damned. Inside these walls, away from all of the prejudice and fear and uncertainty, they could just be - and for once in his life, Sunghoon let himself do just that. No performance, no face, just himself and this man who's become the center of his world so devastatingly fast. And he thinks, as he eventually begins to drift off, that he's perfectly fine with devoting himself to someone like Jay.
•••
Over the next week, Sunghoon and Jay slip into a quiet softness. They don't dive head first into anything, but dance on the edge in an unhurried way. After all, they have all the time in the world, and Sunghoon is still very much adjusting to his new life. He hasn't bit another living thing since the day he was turned, even refusing to do so on hunts. He's sated his hunger exclusively with the supply kept in the house, even if it never fully satisfied him. Sunghoon remained apprehensive about properly feeding, and none of the others rushed him while he found his footing in his new body. Things changed as time continued to pass - he grew colder, he got stronger, he felt hunger less frequently. It was strange to adjust, but he took comfort in the fact that he wasn't forced to experience it all alone, instead lucky enough to have others that have already been through it.
Tonight the air held a chilling bite to it, fall morphing slowly into the cool blues of winter. Sunghoon and Jay walked the empty streets of the city, warm street lights casting honey tones over their features in the cold. The two walked side by side, talking about every little thing that came to mind. Sunghoon walked with his hands shoved into the pockets of his long coat, glancing over at Jay every so often. He looked especially soft like this, a slight flush to his face from the cold air, wrapped in one of Sunghoon's hoodies that had mysteriously gone missing from the back of his desk chair this morning. Sunghoon hadn't understood the appeal of seeing someone else in your clothes till Jay stepped into his view then, and it's quickly becoming one of his favorite things.
"So… I don't think I ever asked," Sunghoon starts after a break in their conversation, glancing down the road before they pass onto the next block, "How did you turn?"
Jay let's out a weak laugh at the question, eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of them. He's silent for a few beats before finally giving an answer.
"I was with this girl for a few years," He starts slowly, gentle winds blowing through his raven hair, "It was great, honestly, till one day there was an accident…" he clears his throat, shaking his head a little as if trying to walk himself through the memories, "I was dying, and I had no idea what she was until that moment."
Sunghoon listens closely, giving it willingly when Jay slides his hand into Sunghoon's coat pocket to take his own. Their fingers interwine in the enclosed warmth, and the comforting touch seems to help Jay continue.
"She panicked, I guess, and even though I fought as much as I could…." Jay's free hand comes up to push messy bangs from his eyes, even though the wind just blows them right back into his face, "She turned me. I stuck around for awhile longer, till I just couldn't handle the resentment anymore. So I left."
Sunghoon nods thoughtfully, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "Because she took the choice away from you?" He asks quietly, looking over at Jay.
"Yeah, I just… I couldn't stand it. It's not like I wanted to be this." Jay meets Sunghoon's gaze, then, and gives him a little smile. It's only a small quirk of his lips, but his eyes are filled with softness and something akin to hurt.
"Lemme take you somewhere," He tugs Sunghoon off of their path, leading him in a different direction than home.
Sunghoon's brows furrow in confusion, but he follows willingly. Eventually their surroundings begin to look familiar to him as Jay leads him along, a large familiar building coming into view as they round a corner.
Sunghoon's eyes snap to Jay, then back to the building, "Why are you taking me here?" He asks, voice laced with confusion and a hint of excitement.
The dim sign of the skate rink stands tall in front of the large white building as Jay leads them through the empty lot and towards the back. His free hand fishes through his pockets, the distinct jingle of metal breaking into the night as he pulls a set of keys free from the fabric.
"I remember you telling me about your skating and how much you missed it," Jay glances over his shoulder as he unlocks the back door to the building, a mischievous smile on his lips, "I may have looked at some of your performances, and maybe selfishly want to see you in your element myself ." he says with a breathy laugh, not wasting time in pushing the door open and pulling Sunghoon inside.
Sunghoon's eyes widen a little as he's pulled into the familiar surroundings of the rink he used to practice in when he was younger. It's not one of the big fancy ones used for televised contests and championships, but the kind that holds the nostalgic memories of childhood, of being surrounded by family and friends and innocent laughter. He feels a rush of something impossibly warm swell in his chest as his eyes focus back on Jay, the sight of him in a place so unique to himself. Excitement and affection run through him all at once, stepping forward to close the space between them as he cups Jay's face gently in his hands.
"Thank you."
He kisses Jay reverently, the warm press of their lips sending heat through his cold body. He hums low and satisfied the moment Jay kisses him back and presses firm hands to his waist to pull him closer. They stay locked for a few long moments, savoring the feeling of each other before parting.
Jay can't help but laugh, quiet and breathy at the adoring smile Sunghoon is giving him, it just makes him kiss him again. "Come on, my ice prince, teach me how to skate." He says with another playful laugh, happily letting Sunghoon lead him towards the benches by the entrance to the rink.
Sunghoon grabs two pairs of skates while Jay sits on one of the worn benches, kicking his sneakers off and taking the pair Sunghoon hands off to him.
"Hope you got good balance," Sunghoon says playfully as he swaps his boots out for the sleek black skates. Jay gives him an incredulous look that just makes Sunghoon smile, kneeling down in front of the other once he's done with his own shoes to remove the guards from the blades on Jay's boots.
Jay watches Sunghoon knelt in front of him with attentive eyes, leaned back on his palms as he lets him check the tightness of his laces with care. "Such a gentleman." He mutters, that easy smile on his lips that makes Sunghoon's dead heart do flips.
"It's the least I should do," Sunghoon responds quietly as he stands once he's satisfied, guards already discared from the sharp silver blades on his boots. "Ever been on the ice before?" He holds a hand out for Jay to take, ever patient.
"For as long as I've been alive, nope," Jay takes his hand and stands on uncertain feet, wobbling a little as he takes a moment to find balance on the thin blades. Sunghoon just looks at him with a warm expression, ever endeared by the other.
Sunghoon begins guiding him towards the rink then, never letting go of his hand. "I won't let you fall," he reassures, stepping out onto the smooth surface of ice covering the rink. He keeps a steady hold of Jay's hand as he follows, feet slipping a little beneath him but he steadies quickly with a quiet laugh.
Jay takes a moment to adjust to the feeling of standing on the slippery ice, holding onto Sunghoon's forearms as the other makes sure he doesn't fall. When Jay finally looks up again from the pale white floor, he's met with Sunghoon looking at him like he's hung the moon. He can't help but smile back, feeling a heat creep up to his cheeks from the sheer intensity of it. Sunghoon's adoring gaze falters the second Jay makes eye contact with him, which just makes the other laugh, soft and endeared.
Sunghoon makes an attempt to hide the flush rushing to his cheeks by pressing a lingering kiss to Jay's lips, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Okay, don't think too much about it while you move. It'll help you keep your balance." He mutters, cautious as he lets go of the other to make sure he doesn't lose his footing. Sunghoon moves slowly around him, perfectly steady and confident in his movements.
With a slow shift, Jay makes his first attempt to move without Sunghoon's physical guidance. He finds it easier than expected, mirroring the way the other shifts his weight to move forward, "Not as nerve-wracking as I was expecting." he laughs quietly, eyes flicking up to watch Sunghoon as he lets himself drift slowly across the ice and the sight has him enamoured.
"It feels like floating, I guess," Sunghoon responds as he moves, doing a slow spin along the ice before he's skating backwards, facing Jay. He smiles, bright and warm, feeling a peace he hasn't since before his turning.
Jay smiles right back, his skating still cautious where Sunghoon's is practiced and graceful. Sunghoon drifts back in Jay's direction smoothly, slowly circling around him as Jay unhurriedly moves along the ice. "You look good like this, happy…" he says, then, as Sunghoon shifts in front of him with an easy maneuver and takes Jay's hands in his own.
"Well, I'm in my favorite place. With you." Sunghoon responds easily, guiding Jay along the ice as the gentle breeze of motion pushes his dark hair over his eyes.
Jay huffs out a laugh and Sunghoon thinks it's the best sound he's ever heard. He brings both of them to a slow stop in the center of the rink, strong arms wrapping around the other's waist both to keep him steady and pull him closer. Jay doesn't even think about it when he kisses him then, cool hands coming up to cup Sunghoon's face, cradling his jaw. They melt into one another, savoring the feeling of being pressed close, of their bodies against each other. Sunghoon is the one to break the kiss, leaving a few more quick little pecks on Jay's lips right after.
They stay like that for some time longer, before untangling to move across the ice again. Jay mostly just drifts, perfectly happy to watch Sunghoon fully enjoy the freedom of skating along the full expanse of the rink. He can't get enough of it, the way he moves around him with practiced ease - long strides and elegant spins. He looks unreal. The kind of sinful beauty that resembles blood on fresh snow.
And Sunghoon feels alive. He moves on the ice like it's breathing, confident and sure with every pivot and little trick. This is the most at home he's felt in his body since that night, like he has full control over himself again. He feels Jay's eyes on him the whole time, his undivided attention. It pushes Sunghoon to show off just a little, naturally - easily pulling out some of his favorite tricks with that dangerous grace. When their eyes meet again as Sunghoon exits a spin, he feels a warmth surge through his cold bones. A smile forms on his lips before he can stop it, slow and easy and genuine. Jay looks downright gorgeous, he thinks. Tousled hair, cheeks and ears dusted with the faintest shade of red from the cold air that compliments his honey skin like a kiss, hugged warmly in Sunghoon's old black hoodie.
"You look beautiful, you know?" the words leave him a little breathless, even surprising himself.
Jay laughs at the words, that rosy color flushing deeper on his skin as his smile flashes those dangerous fangs.
"I'm literally just standing here." he responds, pushing off of the ice where he stands to drift closer to the other.
Sunghoon watches him for a moment before moving to meet him halfway, melting right into the feeling of Jay's hands pressing to his hips like that's exactly where they belong. "That's all it takes," he speaks, hushed as his own hands settle on Jay's chest, "You could be doing nothing at all and I'd still think you're the most perfect thing I've ever seen."
Jay lightly jabs at his side with a flustered laugh, causing Sunghoon to slip a little where he stands but Jay doesn't let him fall. They both just smile at each other for a moment, warmth wrapped around them even in this cold space, even though their bodies have none of their own to give. Jay's hands move absentmindedly, fingers rubbing soothing circles where they press into Sunghoon's hips over his jeans, hidden from view by his long coat.
"Keep talking like that and you're gonna make me develop a god complex," he jokes.
"For some reason I don't feel like that'd be so bad," Sunghoon responds without thought, fingers idly messing with the strings of Jay's hoodie. "You already make me feel like a devotee, like I'd give anything up just to stay in your orbit. To have you look at me. To be able to touch you like this at all."
Jay is visibly a bit taken back by the confession, but everything about Sunghoon in the moment says one thing: he means it wholly. It has something overwhelming swelling in his chest. Adoration. Excitement. Confidence. Pride - and something so consumingly warm. He feels much the same, even if apart of him remains apprehensive - worried about getting hurt again. But this feels so big, too big to ignore. Some part of him is scared, sure, but God, he can't ignore the way Sunghoon looks at him. Like he both wants to consume him whole and would let him do anything - would do anything, so long as Jay would so much as ask.
Silence hangs between them, but it isn't awkward. It's charged with a tension that's been building since the day they met, with something dangerous and undoing. They're both ready to drown in it.
Jay's hand moves slowly, reverent in it's ascent as he reaches up to cup Sunghoon's jaw in his palm. His thumb brushes over the high of his cheek, holding his gaze hostage as he searches those beautiful dark eyes for any sign that Sunghoon doesn't mean what he's saying. The only thing he finds is soul crushing devotion.
Jay leans in then, Sunghoon's breath catching in his throat as he's pulled down just slightly to meet the other's height. Their lips brush, breaths mingling. Neither of them say anything for a moment, standing in the middle of the ice like a tightrope, toeing the line of something dangerous as they hold each other.
"That's a dangerous confession, Hoon." Jay finally breaks the silence, though his voice is barely above a whisper. The hand he has on Sunghoon's hip skates upward, fingers disappearing under the thin cotton of his shirt to graze over soft skin.
The touch pulls a sigh from Sunghoon before he can stop it, pressing his forehead to Jay's as his eyes flutter shut. He'd die all over again if it's what allowed him to stay this close to Jay forever. To feel his hands on him.
"And I've never meant anything more in my life." he mutters, snaking his arms around Jay's shoulders to ground himself because suddenly he feels unsteady on the ice, like his legs have gone weak beneath him - overwhelmed with the intensity of everything he feels.
They're so close to kissing, the cord of tension between them pulled taut and threatening to snap. Jay wants nothing more than to get his beautiful boy under him, to test all of that devotion. Sunghoon is just about to close the space between them before the scraping sound of Jay's phone ringing pulls them both back to shore. Sunghoon's brows knit in a show of frustration, sighing softly as he lifts his head to give Jay space to move.
Jay chews on his bottom lip as he yanks his phone from his back pocket, rolling his eyes when he sees the contact, "Terrible timing, every time." he mutters, clearing his throat before answering the call and bringing the phone to his ear, "Yes, Jake?"
Sunghoon makes another little disgruntled noise in the back of his throat, head dropping to rest on Jay's shoulder. His arms slide around the others slim waist, keeping him pressed close as his lips brush against the soft skin of Jay's neck.
"Yeah, we're fine. We're heading back here soon," Sunghoon feels the way he shivers in his hold as he speaks, focused on keeping his voice steady while he speaks to Jake. His free hand finds the back of Sunghoon's head, resting there and idly playing with the soft hair at his nape, fingers brushing over the bite scar there in a way that makes Sunghoon's breath catch.
Jay wraps the call up quickly, shoving his phone back into the pocket of his jeans before nuzzling his nose into Sunghoon's hair with a soft huff, "We should head back, love. They're being paranoid." the last bit comes out in a quiet laugh, only half joking.
Neither of them make any moves to leave just yet, until Jay is pressing a chaste kiss to Sunghoon's hair and patting at his arms to release him from his hold. "Come on, big boy." he says gently, smiling when Sunghoon kisses him quick and sweet before finally untangling from him.
They exit the rink and switch back into their own shoes, Sunghoon following quietly behind Jay as he leads the way out the door they came in. They're immediately met with the cold night air once they pass the threshold, and Sunghoon wastes no time in taking Jay's hand in his own when they begin making their way back towards home.
"Thank you again for tonight." Sunghoon finally speaks, hushed and a bit unsteady but meant genuine all the same. He feels a little crazy, still trying to reel himself back from the edge they were dancing on moments ago.
Jay gives that heart fluttering smile when he glances at Sunghoon, shoulders brushing lightly as they walk side by side, "Of course, I think I'd do anything if it meant seeing you that happy."
That makes Sunghoon's heart skip a beat. He's never quite felt this before - loving and being loved so gentle yet consuming. Love. He knows that's what this is, even if neither of them have spoken it out loud. They both know it. It's sat heavy in everything they've done. Every word. Every touch. Some things feel too big for words.
•••
Back home the next day, Sunghoon is still very much feeling the tension from last night. It's a subtle buzz under his skin, a tease of incessant thoughts that hang in the back of his mind. A nagging that swirls and mingles with the hunger that sits deep in his stomach. It's late noon, and Jay has been gone since early morning. Sunghoon almost feels like a sad puppy about it, if it weren't for the annoying craving for blood tugging his attention to louder signals in his body.
Sunghoon sits at the kitchen island on a stool, blood bag held in hand with a straw stabbed through the top like a capri sun. His brows are knit together, free hand mindlessly scrolling his phone as he drinks. He tries not to think too much about the taste, the faint undertone of chemicals that linger on his tongue. Or the way that these have never sated his hunger, not even once, since the first time he fed on something real, something warm. Some part of him still holds an aversion to drinking from something alive, let alone a human. A mental block in his brain that puts a pit in his stomach every time the thought flashes in his mind. The first week after his turning he had reccuring nightmares about the first and only time he drained the life out of another being. Now, it just sits in his body as a discomfort that has never quite faded completely.
"You look well." Riki's sarcastic comment pulls Sunghoon from his thoughts, eyes snapping up from his screen to see the other man sliding into the chair diagonal from him.
Sunghoon hums in response, finishing off the contents of the blood bag before tossing it into the trashcan by the counter with a sigh, "I'm fine." his tongue flicks out to lick his lips, stained slightly darker from the blood.
"Mhm." Riki chuckles, smug as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. "You're starving," he gives Sunghoon a not so subtle look over, "In two ways." the grin on his face makes Sunghoon roll his eyes, avoiding his gaze.
"I am not." he's a terrible liar, really. His fangs still haven't gone back to their normal size, aching in his gums to sink into something. His pupils are blown, overtaking the deep brown of his irises almost completely. A need still sits low in his belly for something - someone. He wouldn't admit it though, and definitely not to Riki. He'd never let him live it down.
Riki's brow quirks up at Sunghoon's terrible attempt at sounding convincing, smug little smile stuck on his plush lips, "Y'know," he says after a few beats of silence, "Jay would probably help you with getting a real fill." the statement has a double meaning, Sunghoon knows it. It makes something twist in his stomach that he tries not to think about. He risks a glance at his friend, eyes narrowed.
"I don't want help hunting." he deadpans.
Riki gives that same blank expression Sunghoon is trying so hard to push right back, "You know that's not what I mean." he sees right through Sunghoon, has since they started getting close. Riki is too perceptive for his own good, and always reads people to filth easily when he decides to break from his more quiet nature.
"I think you underestimate what he'd do for you," Riki continues, eyes on his own phone now. "He just has this… look, whenever he's around you. Like you're something he's prayed for. Or some poetic shit, I don't know." he lets out a soft laugh, "You get what I'm saying, he'd help however you needed… would probably let you cannibalize him for all he cares."
Sunghoon can't help but laugh a little at the absurdity of that, as if he wouldn't allow the very same. The intensity of what he feels for Jay almost scares him, the things he would do. He could put Sunghoon on his knees with so much as a look.
Riki, perceptive as ever, can tell that his words have stuck with his friend. It's in the way he's gone silent, in the far away look in his eyes. That's when he drops it - for now at least. A lazy smile still plays on his lips as he moves his attention to his phone, accomplished.
Sunghoon runs his fingers through his messy hair with a sigh, tongue dragging over and pressing against one of his elongated canines as he tries to distract himself. He tries so hard not to think about it. About Jay. About blood. About drinking blood from Jay - seeing him covered in it. It's an erotic image that burns itself behind Sunghoon's eyes, barely paying attention to his phone anymore. He imagines Jay, underneath him, pulled flush against his own body, on top of him - anywhere so long as it's close. He imagines what he'd look like if Sunghoon were to bite him, how he'd react to the feeling of Sunghoon's fangs sinking into his flesh, and the sounds he'd make. He wonders if he'd enjoy it - if he's as much of a masochistic mess as Sunghoon and would get off on the pain.
Sunghoon grunts, shaking his head as if trying to physically dislodge the filthy thoughts from his mind. His phone is not working one bit to distract him, so with a frustrated sigh, he stands. He ignores Riki's amused expression as he decides to clean instead, occupying himself with getting the kitchen back in order from the week's neglect. He focuses fully on what's in front of him, scrubbing every inch of the granite countertops and cleaning appliances.
An hour passes like that, with Riki's music playing on the tv while him and Sunghoon clean the kitchen and living room in comfortable silence. The digital clock on the stove reads 7:34p.m when the front door finally clicks open. Sunghoon's senses are assaulted with Jay's presence before he ever sees him, his lungs filling with the scent of his woody cologne and blood from feeding earlier in the day. It hangs in the air, forcing a shiver wracking through Sunghoon's body. His teeth sink into the plush of his bottom lip, fangs threatening to split the delicate skin. Controlling himself was going to be an impossible feat.
Jay eventually makes his way into the kitchen, a warm smile adorning his lips at the sight of Sunghoon. His expression shifts just slightly when they make eye contact and he gets a real good look at him, brow quirking up the smallest bit and that gentle smile morphing into something a bit more smug, knowing. Jay doesn't make a show if it, though, just greets him warmly with a kiss to his temple and asks about his day. He doesn't miss the way Sunghoon's breath seems to catch in his throat the second Jay enters his personal space.
After cleaning and small talk and Sunghoon trying his damnedest not to jump Jay's bones, the two end up in his room - which is absolutely no help to Sunghoon's case. He's surrounded by Jay. Tangled up in his bed, in his arms, with no escape. Not that he wants one. Jay had put on some dystopian show to watch while they lay in bed, dragging Sunghoon into his room nearly the moment they were done cleaning to have some quiet time to unwind after his long day. Despite the way Sunghoon is absolutely losing his mind, it's rather peaceful. Everything that surrounds them is so uniquely Jay. Posters of various bands and framed vinyls decorate the walls. A few guitars sit meticulously placed in the far corner of the room on black stands. The plush bedding the two are tangled in is dark and soft, with one small black cat plush sitting in the corner of the bed by the pillows. The TV hangs mounted to the wall at the end of the bed, volume just high enough to hear.
Sunghoon stopped paying attention to the show within the first thirty minutes. He couldn't focus even if he wanted to, too busy with his inner turmoil and the heat pooling low in his belly that has been driving him up a wall for hours. He's pressed up against Jay's side as close as he can get, face buried in the space between his neck and shoulder. He's absolutely lost in it. Jay is warm. Blood moving beneath his honey skin like a taunt - and god he smells like the best thing Sunghoon's senses have ever processed. The TV is nothing more than background noise in his mind, far away and drowned out beneath his less than innocent thoughts.
Jay's eyes stay trained on the TV, but he hasn't been truly paying attention for awhile now either. Sunghoon is too distracting. Has been since he got home. Jay is hyper aware of the pressure of the other against him. The way his soft lips brush against his heated skin, the feeling of his aching fangs grazing ever so slightly like a tease.
Sunghoon's wandering hand slips up under his shirt, reveling in the feeling of warmth against his fingers as they brush along the distinct v-line dipping below Jay's sweatpants. That simple touch seems to be enough to have Jay deciding he's had enough, unable to ignore Sunghoon's clear need any longer.
Jay slides a hand up into Sunghoon's soft hair, fingers tangling into the locks at the base of his skull just enough to keep him there, then he finally speaks, voice hushed and distinctly deeper.
"Hoon, baby, just do it."
Something hot rushes through Sunghoon at Jay's words, his tone. He tries to lift his head to look at the older, but Jay just shoves his head right back down into his neck and the action makes Sunghoon grunt.
"Jay…"
Jay doesn't give him the time to be anxious about it, keeps holding him right there like he isn't asking - he's telling.
"I can tell you need it, so bite me." He presses a lingering kiss to Sunghoon's hair before tilting his head away just enough to give him full access to his throat. An offering.
Sunghoon swallows hard, breaths coming out shaky. Fuck - he can't keep holding back. Not when Jay is basically telling him to take what he needs. Reverently, he slides his hand up along Jay's body to cradle the back of his head. His lips brush against the soft skin of his throat, right over where his pulse is. Jay shivers at the contact - and that simple reaction is Sunghoon's undoing. The thin, fraying thread of his composure finally snaps. His teeth graze, then sink in with a frightening ease. The sharp points of Sunghoon's canines pierce right through Jay's flesh, and he moans the moment hot blood rushes into his mouth. Jay's grip tightens in his hair, groaning low in his throat at the white hot pleasure-pain that radiates from where Sunghoon has latched onto him. His head presses back against the pillows, breaths coming out in soft little pants as Sunghoon drinks from him.
"That's it, take what you need," The way his voice comes out strained just drives Sunghoon even deeper into his frenzy. Blood spills past Sunghoon's lips as he drinks. Drips down his chin. Along the line of Jay's throat and soaking into the collar of his shirt as it pools in the dip of his collarbone.
Sunghoon is absolutely lost in it. The taste, the feeling. The way Jay responds - still holding Sunghoon close, making these little groans and near whines that he's clearly trying to hold back that make Sunghoon go crazy. The feeling is so distinctly different from the less than satisfying blood bags he's been living off of for the past month and a half. His hunger actually feels like it's fading.
After a few long moments, Jay pulls Sunghoon free with the hold he has on his hair. He goes willingly, but not without a wrecked whine leaving his throat that he's too gone to be embarrassed about. The sight Jay is met with is nothing short of sinful. Sunghoon looks as needy as he feels - pupils blown wide, almost completely overtaking the wine red of his irises. Plush lips stained with the blood that drips down his chin. Panting like a desperate animal. Jay thinks it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen, a sight that makes his dick twitch shamelessly in his sweats.
Before Sunghoon can even compose himself enough to get out a weak 'thank you' Jay is yanking him forward and kissing him in a desperate clash of teeth and tongues. It's messy and uncoordinated, hot and heavy. Blood smearing and staining. Jay pulls Sunghoon onto his lap, reveling in the way he submits without a second thought, letting Jay do the taking now. The taste of blood on Sunghoon's tongue makes him groan, gripping his hips in a way that has Sunghoon making another one of those pretty little sounds.
Sunghoon's hands are everywhere. In Jay's hair, gripping his shoulders, palms pressing against the firm muscle of his chest. His fingers are wet with the blood still fresh on Jay's neck, leaving crimson trails wherever he touches. He can't think. Doesn't want to, more than happy to let Jay take control - to make Sunghoon fully and irrecoverably his.
Jay has it in mind to do just that.
They only part when Sunghoon whines because his lungs burn from the lack of air, panting hot and heavy into each other's mouths. Jay's kisses move to Sunghoon's jaw, wet and open-mouthed as he trails his lips down to the now heated skin of his throat. A faint trail of crimson follows everywhere Jay's lips touch, branding Sunghoon's skin like a mark of ownership.
"Fuck - you come undone so easy for me," Jay curses, biting softly into Sunghoon's flesh - not enough to break skin, but more than enough to make Sunghoon wish he would.
Sunghoon barely notices it when he starts grinding down on Jay's lap, chasing the delicious friction of the hard line of his cock pressing against his ass through their clothes. His fingers tangle into Jay's messy hair, an absolutely depraved sound leaving him as the other sucks a harsh mark right over his racing pulse.
"Jay," Sunghoon practically whines as Jay guides his hips with a firm grip, "Want you so bad. Been thinking about it all day," he pants.
"Yeah?" Jay kisses back up along his jaw, reaching his lips and kissing him hungrily again. They part after a moment just enough for Jay to speak.
"You need me, babyboy?"
Sunghoon nearly cums right there in his sweats, Jay's husky voice mixed with the pleasure of their grinding almost enough to tip him over the edge embarrassingly fast. "Please - fuck - whatever you want, just need you."
Jay can't help but be a little smug, pride and something dark swirling in his chest at the clear knowledge that he's got this perfect, handsome boy at his mercy. With a satisfied hum, his hands come down to grab at the plush of Sunghoon's ass before guiding him to lay back on the mattress. He follows immediately, not daring to spend even a second separated from him. Jay settles between Sunghoon's parted legs as they kiss again, this time slower but no less messy. He grinds his hips down against Sunghoon's just to pull more moans from him, loving the feeling of his throbbing cock against his own.
"Gonna make you feel so good," Jay murmurs against his lips, breathy and just as wrecked from everything he's experiencing. "Gonna make you mine."
Jay sits up just enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing the fabric to the floor before helping Sunghoon out of his own. His breath catches at the sight of him. Perfect. Fucking perfect. All toned muscle and pale skin, little beauty marks scattered along his torso like stars. So big and yet he's panting beneath Jay and looking at him like he's his own personal God. His palms press against Sunghoon's knees, smoothly running down the expanse of his thighs as he just watches every little reaction. Wonders what else he can pull out of him. Needs to find out.
Sunghoon feels lightheaded, like he's floating in a haze he's never quite experienced before. All of his senses have zeroed in on Jay, like nothing else matters, just his touch and his voice and his approval. The moment Jay's fingers dip into the waistband on Sunghoon's sweats, another rush of heat bolts through him. His eyes lock onto Jay's hands, laser focused on where they make contact.
"Lift your hips for me, pretty."
With a shaky breath, Sunghoon does just that. He lifts his hips up just enough for Jay to drag his sweats and underwear down his legs in one agonizingly slow motion. With each inch of skin that's revealed he feels the heat burning his skin grow hotter. He's flushed, cheeks and ears dusted in a pretty pink, down to his shoulders and chest. His cock sits heavy against his stomach, equally as flushed and leaking pre cum.
Jay tosses his clothes to the floor, eyes never leaving Sunghoon. His gaze feels reverent, worshipful. Sunghoon squirms a little under the weight of it, trying and immediately failing to close his legs because Jay's hand snaps to his knee to keep him spread with a click of his tongue.
"Don't hide from me, you're fucking perfect."
Sunghoon swears he could pass out on the spot. Jay's other hand comes up then, pressing to the firm muscle of Sunghoon's chest, enamoured by the sight of his fingers pressing into the flesh. He takes his time, fingers tracing along the defined valleys and lines of Sunghoon's torso before reaching his lower abdomen where his cock sits heavy and making an absolute mess on his stomach. Sunghoon watches the way Jay's teeth press into his bottom lip, fangs sharp and poking out. His breath hitches the moment Jay finally touches him, knuckles tracing along the entire length of the underside of his cock before wrapping around him at the base. His hips twitch immediately at the feeling, and Jay has never looked more smug.
"Fuck, didn't know you've been hiding all this from me, Hoon." Jay slowly drags his hand up, making a show of twisting his palm over the head when he reaches the tip, pre cum coating his skin and making the glide back down sticky and wet. Sunghoon feels heavy in his hand, just girthy enough that his fingers almost don't touch wrapped around him.
Sunghoon is a fucking mess, even with Jay barely touching him. He's set a torturously slow pace, holding Sunghoon's hips down with his free hand while he strokes him slow and thorough. He's making these pretty little noises - whines and moans and gripping the sheets so tight because he doesn't know what to do with his hands.
"Jay - fuck that feels good," he groans, unable to tear his eyes away from the image of Jay's hand stroking his cock so perfectly.
"I know, baby." Jay coos, keeping up with the slow, sticky pace of his hand as he leans over Sunghoon. Their lips brush, the taunt of a kiss, "Mm, gonna need you to fuck me next time, can't let this pretty cock go to waste," as if for emphasis, he gives Sunghoon's dick a particularly harsh tug, making him cry out at the intense pleasure.
"Tonight you're just gonna be good and take what I give you, yeah? Need to make a mess outta you."
Then Jay's hands are gone, leaning back towards the head of the bed and rummaging through the top drawer of his nightstand. He's back before the whine can even fully leave Sunghoon's throat, shushing him gently as he pops the cap on the small bottle of lube he retrieved.
A small flash of anxiety sparks in Sunghoon's stomach, fuzzy brain finally putting two and two together. He was the one getting topped tonight. He's never done that before. He squirms a little where Jay has him spread out on the mattress, eyes trained on the sight of Jay pouring the sticky liquid onto his fingers.
"I've never," his voice comes out more wrecked than anticipated, trying his best to string the words together in his subby headspace, "This is my first time - bottoming, I mean." he struggles to look Jay in the eyes, slightly embarrassed by his confession, at the fact that he lacks the experience.
As if sensing it, Jay is quick to shut down his worries, "Yeah? I got you baby, you just let me take care of you, okay?" he doesn't move till Sunghoon nods, settling between his legs and leaning over him to trap Sunghoon in a heated kiss as his fingers press against the tight rim of his entrance. Sunghoon whines into Jay's mouth, hips twitching against the feeling of Jay slowly circling the pads of his middle and index finger there for just a few moments to ease some of the tension in Sunghoon's body before pushing his middle finger in down to the last knuckle in one easy, wet slide.
"Fuck-" Sunghoon hisses at the feeling, hands gripping onto Jay's biceps as he starts a steady pace, giving Sunghoon time to get used to the feeling as he presses kisses along his collarbones. "Easy, babyboy. I got you."
Sunghoon's breaths come out shaky, fingers tangling in Jay's hair and head falling back against the mattress with a soft thud as fangs graze against his skin. The intrusion is new but not uncomfortable, gradually easing into a pleasure that pools low in his belly. Jay doesn't add a second finger till Sunghoon is whining for more, reveling in the way he keens at the stretch.
"Doin' so fucking good for me, Hoon." the praise makes Sunghoon's head spin, not taking long before he's grinding his hips down onto Jay's fingers in an attempt to chase the new pleasure.
"That's it, open up for me," Jay growls, loving the way Sunghoon feels around his fingers, tight like a vice while he works him open, stretching him out.
Sunghoon's breath catches on a moan, feeling absolutely lost in the man above him. "Jay— fuck, please," he looks at Jay with glassy eyes, pleading and desperate. He needs him closer now.
"I know, baby. I've got you." Jay hushes, smiling against Sunghoon's heated skin as he presses kisses along his jaw, "Tell me what you need."
"I—" Sunghoon tries to respond, he really does, but Jay changes his angle just right and suddenly his fingers are pressing right against the sensitive spot inside him that makes his back arch up off the bed with a less than dignified moan. The heightened pleasure sparks through him like electricity, hand snapping down to grab at Jay's wrist. Not an attempt to stop him, just desperately searching for something to ground him.
"Shit—" the way Jay laughs at his reaction, the way he's squirming beneath him and how his head falls back against the sheets makes the heat flushing his skin blaze even hotter. He feels like he's going insane with need.
"Need you inside me. Please."
The plea pulls a groan from Jay above him, blindly reaching for the bottle of lube he'd tossed previously to slick himself up. He's gentle when he removes his fingers, a little endeared smile tugging at his lips at the sound of Sunghoon's whines. "Patience, Hoon," he teases.
"Jay, please."
Sunghoon's eyes lock onto the sight of Jay stroking himself lazily, sweats pulled down just far enough to free his aching cock. God, the need he feels is maddening.
With a quiet huff, Jay leans over Sunghoon's larger frame, caging him beneath him. "Shit, baby, you make me crazy. You have no idea," Jay mutters, grinding the length of his cock hot and heavy over Sunghoon's aching hole just to hear the way he whines for it again before he lines himself up. His eyes flit to Sunghoon's face once more, searching for any sign of hesitation - and when he doesn't find it, he pushes in. Slow, stretching him open deliciously. The intense pressure sucking him in makes Jay groan, a low strained sound in his throat as his head drops to Sunghoon's shoulder.
Sunghoon is doing absolutely no better, if not worse. The stretch is overwhelming - a hot, full pleasure that makes his dick twitch against his stomach, leaking even more. He grips at Jay's shoulders, panting softly as his body struggles to adjust to the feeling of being filled so mind numbingly perfect.
"Oh my god—" is all Sunghoon can manage out, whining high and desperate.
Jay stays still once he's buried himself to the base, gripping the sheets beside Sunghoon's head so harshly they threaten to rip under the strain. Sunghoon feels good. Too good. Squeezing him so perfectly and clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.
Sunghoon pants below Jay. Short hot breaths interrupted by another broken whine.
"Jay— fuck. Move, please— ah!"
Sunghoon doesn't even get to finish his plea, the words dying in his throat with a yelp from the force of Jay thrusting into him. He pulls out just till the head of his cock catches on the tight rim of Sunghoon's sloppy hole before sinking back in with a groan.
"Look at you, baby." Jay coos, looking perfectly feral above Sunghoon as he sets a pace thats so perfect it has Sunghoon feeling like his brain is gonna melt out of his ears.
Sunghoon tries to look away, overwhelmed entirely by Jay and the way he's driving into him. He whines high and pathetic at the feeling of Jay yanking him back with fingers closing around his jaw.
"Look at me while I fuck you." Jay growls, looking down at his love through the messy black hair that hangs over his eyes.
Another broken cry, gripping hard at Jay's wrist where his other hand presses into the bed by Sunghoon's head. Sunghoon tries to hold eye contact, but everything about Jay feels too intense and consuming and good. He's lost all sense, holding onto Jay like a lifeline while he ruins him.
"S'good, Jay, you feel so good—"
Jay's wrist breaks free from Sunghoon's hold, instead locking their fingers to hold his hand down. The angle of his hips shift, a downright sinful smirk spreading his lips when he gets the cry of pleasure from Sunghoon that he's chasing.
"Yeah? That the spot, babyboy?"
Jay's sharp smile is a blur of white in Sunghoon's bleary vision, bowing off of the bed as Jay continues to drive into him. Sunghoon could die again right here and now by Jay's hands and he'd be the happiest he's ever been. He's a complete mess, keening the moment Jay's fingers press into the meat of his hip hard enough to bruise. Holding him down and dragging him impossibly closer.
It's perfect. Jay is perfect. God, Sunghoon can't even think. Everything is wet and filthy, a thin sheen of sweat across their bodies and Sunghoon painting his own stomach in the pre that's now dripping from his aching cock like a faucet, each slam of Jay's hips against his ass punctuated by the wet sound of skin on skin.
He's so fucking close already. His legs hook around Jay's waist thoughtlessly, desperate to keep him close because he's sure he would sob if there was so much as an inch between them. Sunghoon is just about to warm Jay that he's on that overwhelming edge but he's leaning down and leaving sloppy kisses along his throat and collarbones and—
Oh fuck.
Jay's teeth sink into the flesh of Sunghoon's chest - right over his heart. The sound that leaves him as Sunghoon's blood gushes into his mouth is animalistic and primal and the way he wraps his arms tightly around Sunghoon's middle to hold him in place is all enough to have Sunghoon cumming hard with a loud broken cry.
"Jay!—" they're definitely going to get noise complaints from the others because Sunghoon can't shut up, doesn't care to. He holds onto him desperately as Jay drives into him harshly. Gripping at his hair while the other fucks him right through his mind numbing orgasm till it begins to fizzle into overstimulation.
By the time Jay unlatches from Sunghoon's chest he's made even more of a mess. Blood spills down Sunghoon's front to mix with the sticky fluids across his abdomen, stains his lips and chin and coats the pearl white of his perfect fangs in a striking red. He moans into Sunghoon's mouth as their lips crash together in a messy, hungry kiss. Sunghoon can barely keep up with him, so much blood shared between them with each wet slide of their tongues that it's become filthy.
"Too much," Sunghoon whines between heated kisses, "Can't—" but he doesn't try to push Jay away.
Jay groans against Sunghoon's lips, brows knit and jaw tense with every thrust. Sunghoon is just squeezing him so fucking good. "You can take it baby, fuck— just a little more. Let me use you." and he's pulling out and smiling at the way Sunghoon whimpers like a needy bitch at the loss before he's flipping his pliant body over.
Sunghoon lets himself be manhandled, the treatment only making his overly sensitive dick twitch back to life as rough hands grab him by the hips and blood smears across the dark sheets as Jay drags him back onto his thick cock till his ass presses flush against his hips and the action has them both moaning. Like this Jay feels even deeper, slamming against Sunghoon's prostate with every mean thrust of his hips.
"God, you were made for me." Jay groans, holding Sunghoon in place as he fucks into him at a steady rhythm that has any remaining thoughts knocking right out of Sunghoon's brain.
It's just Jay. Jay, Jay, Jay—
"Love you. Fuck— love you s'much."
Everything stops. Jay goes still, fingers twitching where he holds Sunghoon's hips. Panic sets in immediately and Sunghoon starts scrambling to apologize but Jay cuts him short, silencing the words before they even have the chance to escape. He gets a fistful of Sunghoon's hair and Sunghoon yelps at the sting as he's pulled back, forced to clumsily struggle onto his unsteady knees till his back is pressed flush against Jay's chest.
"Say it again." Jay demands, low and hot right next to Sunghoon's ear, still buried to the hilt as his hand moves to wrap around his throat.
Sunghoon shudders, something akin to a sob forcing from his throat because he's so fucking desperate and Jay wraps his arm around his middle to trap him right there. His heart leaps, sucking in a shaky breath of air.
"I love you, Jay." he manages out, holding onto Jay's forearm as his thighs shake with the strain of his own weight even if Jay is holding him up.
A satisfied groan leaves Jay, pressing Sunghoon impossibly closer in his possessive hold as he resumes the brutal pace he had earlier with a new rush. He revels in the way Sunghoon moans for him, the way he pleads and cries and holds on.
"Love you too, Hoon." he punctuates the declaration with a slam of his hips that has the head of his cock perfectly hitting that sweet, sweet spot inside Sunghoon. He focuses on it, determined to bring Sunghoon over the edge again.
"You're mine. Always gonna be mine, yeah?"
Jay bites into him again, earning a broken cry as his fangs pierce into pale skin with a wet, disgusting pop. Blood immediately spills down along Sunghoon's clavicle, leaving a blazing trail of wet heat in its path.
"Yes— Always yours. Just Jay's." he's already so close again, knowing Jay is too by the way his thrusts grow erratic and frenzied. Sunghoon rocks back against him as much as he can, meeting the rough press of his hips in stuttered little movements while pinned against Jay's body.
Sunghoon almost cries when Jay retracts his fangs, even if he was starting to get lightheaded from the mix of blood loss and Jay's hand on his throat.
"Want you to come inside. Please," he moans, head falling back against Jay's shoulder as they coil winds impossibly tighter in his lower belly and pre spills down his shaft and drips onto the bed. "Fill me up, Jay, wanna feel it."
Jay growls, finally releasing Sunghoon's throat and wrapping his hand around his aching cock. He strokes him in time with his harsh thrusts, matching the pace perfectly. "Gonna stuff you so full you can't think of anything else but me."
Sunghoon gasps, arching so pretty into Jay's touch as desperate pleas and cries of his name spill freely like a prayer. He's so, so close.
"Pleasepleaseplease—"
Jay's grip tightens as his hand works him over, overwhelmed with the pleasure as he bites into Sunghoon's shoulder again with a sound that's closer to a whine as he slams into the addictive tight heat of Sunghoon's hole one last time. He buries himself to the base, cock throbbing with every hot rope of cum that spills.
"Fuck— take it, baby. Take it." Jay whispers against Sunghoon's abused skin, reveling in the way his pretty boy's cock twitches and throbs in his hand as he cums with a weak little cry of Jay's name, painting his hand in his sticky release. "There you go, that's it. So, so good for me, Hoon."
Sunghoon pants, chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath as his spent body slumps back against Jay's. He whines weakly, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against Jay's throat. He still holds onto Jay's arm like an anchor, feeling gooey and hot and so deliciously full and sated.
"That… you're crazy." Sunghoon manages out with a dopey smile. His tongue feels thick and heavy in his mouth, words slurring slightly as he works them past his pretty, swollen lips.
"Mm," Jay hums, nosing at Sunghoon's messy hair and pressing a kiss to his temple, "I think you like that, though." his kisses trail down to Sunghoon's neck, tongue laving gently over the slowly healing bites, savoring the taste of blood.
Sunghoon makes a weak little sound, pleased and fucked out. He looks down at himself, covered in blood and cum and sweat. Wires have to be crossed in his brain somewhere because he thinks it's the hottest situation he's ever been in.
"Your bed looks like a crime scene."
"Probably a regular occurrence going forward."
They share a laugh at that, soft and airy and real. When Jay finally pulls out Sunghoon whines at the loss, the sticky sensation of Jay's release spilling out and down his thighs. "Shh, I know baby." Jay hushes, making sure Sunghoon isn't going to fall over before he's helping him off of the bed on his own shaky legs. He's probably going to have to replace these sheets, those blood stains are not coming out.
Sunghoon follows along quietly when Jay leads him into the connected bathroom, and Jay can't help but be reminded of a big puppy.
Jay prepares a bath while Sunghoon stands in front of the mirror, eyes dragging over his naked body. Evidence of Jay is all over him. Deep red blood staining beautifully against his skin. Slowly healing bites branding his neck and chest like a claim. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints on his hips and thighs. His hair messy and lips kiss-swollen. A heat dusts across his features as he stares at his reflection, fingers pressing lightly at the bite that sits right over his heart.
He feels… happy. Loved. A warmth crackling like gentle fire in his chest. Jay comes into view in the mirror, fingers dragging along Sunghoon's waist as he steps behind him before settling on his hips. They stare at each other in the reflection, gazes locked as Jay presses reverent kisses along Sunghoon's shoulder, arms snaking around his waist to hold him.
The sound of running water and the porcelain tub slowly filling is a distant thing, background noise to the moment they share.
"You did so good for me, Sunghoon." Jay mutters against his skin. "You fall apart so perfectly for me."
Sunghoon shudders at Jay's words, teeth pressing into his pillowy bottom lip as he watches Jay's hands roam along his torso, uncaring of the mess. Words feel hard, whispering out a soft 'thank you' as he turns his body in Jay's hold to face him. The moment he settles, he kisses Jay. It's gentler this time, a slow press of lips and tongues like they're savouring the taste of each other. Jay's hands cradle Sunghoon's face, and Sunghoon's arms slide around Jay's waist to keep him close because he needs the contact to stay grounded.
"Mm," Jay hums, a smile on his lips as he breaks the kiss. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up, pretty boy."
The two bathe together, soft and sweet and tender as Jay takes care of Sunghoon and pampers him in kisses and praise. Sunghoon helps him change the bedding once they're clean and dressed in clothes for sleep. When they settle into the soft comfort of Jay's bed they tangle up into a pile of limbs and warmth.
They sleep in till noon, and almost immediately have to listen to Riki teasing them shamelessly about how Sunghoon 'sounded like a desperate whore', which Sunghoon promptly playfully beats the hell out of him. Jay watches with adoration, and when Sunghoon catches his gaze while he has Riki in a headlock his heart lurches. Jay just smiles back, soft and real, and when he laughs Sunghoon thinks he could worship that sound alone.
Everything's gonna be okay, Sunghoon thinks. So long as he has this. So long as he has Jay. His sinful, perfect lover.
Devotion will consume him whole. And he will let it.
taglist!?: @gothlcsan @woongisi @kristynaaah
reblogs, comments and likes always appreciated! <3
synopsis; college life definitely isn't cheap- especially when living on campus, so y/n ultimately decides that the quickest way to make money is to sell baked goods. she's amazing at making sweet treats, and it shows-given that she's now known as the best place to get something sweet on campus. sunghoon finally gives in after hearing about her time and time again, but he is not satisfied with his order!! clearly, there was misunderstanding along the way..
content (warning); mentions of marijuana, cursing(?), sexual jokes, all characters are 19-22 in this.. idk.that seems about right...GUYS IGNORE THE TIMESTAMPS PLEASE 😭😭😐
