PAIRING: Vampire!Jeonghan x human!Reader
SUMMARY: Disappearing from your fiancé should have been easy. Instead, you stumble into Jeonghan’s empire of blood and alcohol - and he becomes the only thing standing between you and death.
TOTAL FIC WC: 19,138
AU: 1920s Era, Supernatural, Mild Horror
GENRE: Strangers to Lovers, Mild Angst, Smut, Romance
RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
WARNINGS: References to the mob, past physical abuse (not in great detail) and a lot of sexism/using a wife as a placeholder and pretty thing to look at, depictions of blood and gore (vampires feeding), depictions of anxiety and fear, reader doing a lot of thinking about her past life and how much she hated/feared her former fiance, mild power dynamics but not explicitly used or mention (Jeonghan is a powerful vampire and reader is vulnerable so I feel like mentioning this), illegal activities like bootlegging alcohol and blood, ambiguous vampire lore, mentions/references to murder, single fight scene where a vampire is decapitated but not in great detail, romance is a little fast-paced/seems a little too quick but we ride, sexual tension/flirting, Wonwoo tries to eat reader a total of One Time, Soonyoung is a feral baby and loses control a little but he's doing his best, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), praise, use of 'good girl', vaginal fingering... I think that's everything!
A/N: This is my second piece for the Puttin’ on the Ritz collab by @studiosvt and I could not be more excited to bring you 1920s vampire Jeonghan! Honestly this story turned out entirely different than when I first set out to write it. My original intention was to make it darker and similar to the Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allen Poe but what I actually ended up with is sweetie vampire Jeonghan giving reader a ton of agency and making the world her oyster!!!!
AN 2: This is not beta read so I'm sorry - there will definitely be mistakes! I did proof read/spelling and grammar check but I often miss a lot!
MAIN M. LIST | ASK | PUTTIN’ ON THE RITZ COLLAB
YOU LEAVE WITHOUT PACKING A THING.
The house is still asleep when you slide the window open and slide out, the winter air biting at your hands. Your fingers feel raw as you climb out the window onto the fire escape, the metal stinging to the touch. Your breath fogs despite the fact you're barely breathing, too afraid to make a sound.
With frozen fingers, you push the window shut, heart hammering as it squeezes. You freeze, squeezing your eyes shut. The cold nips at you, wind pulling at your clothes that aren't thick enough for winter and scraping against the back of your neck.
Sucking in a breath, you force yourself to shut the window the rest of the way. Turning, you creep further onto the fire escape, desperate not to make a sound. In the distance, New York is awake. She never sleeps, but she's loud tonight, the sound of sirens carried on the wind, the roar of a Model T somewhere a few blocks over.
The fire escape is blessedly quiet as you navigate down, too cold, too alert, too nervous. You nearly miss the last step on the way down, stumbling onto the frozen street. As soon as you're on level ground you're moving as fast as you can, pulling the thin jacket around you as you go.
Your fiance always said you'd never make it three blocks without him knowing.
You make it eight.
The train yard is loud, though you can barely hear it over your chattering teeth. You're so cold you can barely think, driven only by fear. You become a passenger to the fear, letting it drive you through a tangle of metal train cars and clanking metal, the night sky twinkling above you as you find a freight train, near ready to leave.
You don't think. You swing up into a car, uncaring where it's going or what's inside. You don't care. Anywhere is better than here, and any direction that's away from your rotten fiance and his violent hands is good enough for you.
Heavy wooden barrels fill the train car. They're unmarked but rotund, hammered bands of steel keeping the frame intact. You weave between them, looking for a nook dark enough for you to hide - warm enough to not freeze to death. For a brief moment, you think that might not be so bad. Better than dying at the hands of your fiance or his family. Better than letting him put marks on you were you can't see them, better than-
Voices startle you. From a distance, you hear the rolling slam of train car doors and metal locks sliding into place. You panic, diving for the corner of the train car behind two barrels, tucking yourself into the shadows. It isn't warm, but you can no longer feel the icy teeth of the wind scraping across your skin, threatening to bite.
Tucking your hands between your thighs, you hold your breath. Male voices approach the car and you listen as they jump in and walk around briefly, taking stock. You can't see them, but you make yourself smaller. You've always been good at that, and it works now. They don't see you tucked in the corner, jumping back out before rolling the door shut with a clang that makes you flinch.
You don't breathe until the train starts moving, the sound of the whistle and the lurch forward startling you. You shiver violently, relaxing a fraction as you lean back into the cold metal of the wall, pressing your hands between your thighs to keep them warm. It only works a little, but it's the best you can do, eyes fluttering as you breathe in the smell of wood and something dark and rich.
The train rocks back and forth, the sound of the clicking tracks and liquid sloshing in the barrel. You feel yourself relax for the first time in weeks - shoulders sagging, breathing leveling out. There's no way for Vin to catch up to you now, and it makes you smile tiredly, a sliver of pride leaking through your exhaustion.
Your fiance always said you'd never make it three blocks without him knowing.
You've now made it eight and some change, train chugging to somewhere far off away from him and those who would force you to marry him for the sake of power and a name.
-
The train coming to an abrupt halt startles you awake. You groan, neck stiff, muscles locked and cold. Everything hurts from sleeping in the cramped corner of the train car, bones popping as you sit up straight, alert to the sudden halt. You don't know how long you've been asleep, but it's still dark in the train and you feel exhausted.
Curling in the shadow, you wait for the sound of voices, the opening of doors. Your intention is to get off in whatever city you've landed in and start a new life. Pick up a job waitressing, maybe. Or at one of those exclusive places they sell bootleg alcohol and don't ask questions. Anything to get you a little bit of cash and get you somewhere warm.
You smile, thinking about this new life. You imagine yourself in a smoky lounge, tucking cash in your pocket after giving strangers smiles and-
The screaming rips your illusion in half.
You sit up straight, hand flying over your mouth to suppress the startled sound that slips through. A man screams somewhere in the distance, the sound wounded and terrified. It's cut off abruptly, the silence so heavy that your ears start to ring, goosebumps rising on your skin from more than the cold.
The silence doesn't last. Another scream pierces the night, this one closer, raw and guttural like an animal being torn apart. You press yourself deeper into the shadows behind the barrels, knees drawn up to your chest, heart slamming against your ribs so hard it hurts. The cold has seeped into your bones, making every shiver feel worse. You bite down on your lip to keep from whimpering, tasting the metallic tang of blood where your teeth break the skin.
Footsteps approach, slow and deliberate, crunching on the gravel outside the train car. Your breath hitches, fogging the air in front of you. The door to the car rattles, metal groaning as it's shoved open with a force that makes the whole car shudder. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself invisible. The footsteps enter now, soft but unmistakable, padding across the wooden floor between the barrels.
There's a pause. You don't dare breathe, hoping they can't see you. You hear a soft inhale and then the scuff of feet.
"Well, well," a voice says, velvet soft. "You are most certainly not the Amontillado I was looking for."
Your eyes snap open, and there he is, standing just beyond the barrels, silhouetted against the faint moonlight spilling through the open door. He's beautiful in a way that doesn't make sense to your brain, short circuiting. Medium length dark hair falls around his face in waves, framing sharp features that look ethereal enough to be in a painting. His eyes are dark, flashing silver briefly as he crosses through a shaft of moonlight toward you, his gait impossibly smooth.
He tilts his head, studying you, and another scream rips through the distance. You flinch, cowering in your corner, stomach churning. You hear a man begging, screaming no - a wet gurgle cuts him off.
The man in front of you doesn't flinch. He doesn't even glance toward the noise, just continues studying you, something close to amusement on his face. Then he sighs, looking up at the dark ceiling of the train car.
"You," he says, sounding tired as he looks back down at you. "Are a most unfortunate stowaway. What in the world are you doing here, little mouse?"
You stare at him, frozen. Your mind races as the screaming picks back up again, fainter this time but no less horrifying. You stare at this man and realize he expects an answer, his brows raised, watching you and waiting.
Licking your lips, you murmur, "I just…" You think about what to say but you don't know what. So you're honest. "I just didn't want him to hurt me anymore."
The words hang in the frozen air between you. You don't elaborate, don't say anything else. You stare at him, the fear mounting, your fingers numb either from the terror or the cold, you're not sure.
He stares at you then sighs, seeming to make a decision. He comes toward you and you press further into the wall as he moves the barrels out of his way with no problem. You blanche - the barrels must weigh far more than he can lift, but you watch as he picks them up with no effort.
"Don't scream," he murmurs as he reaches you, crouching down. As he does, you catch the faintest whiff of him - sweet, like jasmine. He shrugs his coat off, offering it to you. "You are a very unlucky woman, but I'm feeling empathetic tonight. Put this on before you freeze to death."
With a shaking hand, you reach for the jacket. He becomes unnaturally still as you take it, his pupils dilating slightly in the dark. You look away, his eyes unnerving and predator-large in the dim of the train.
His jacket is thick and woolen, the smell of jasmine intensifying. You pull it around you, warmth making you melt a little. It cures the worst of your shiver and you clutch at it instinctively, clinging to the lifeline.
"Listen to me." His voice is barely above a whisper and you look back up at him. "I'm not going to hurt you. I need you to stay close. Don't look at anything or anyone. Let me guide you. Can you do that?" You nod and his mouth twitches. "Good girl. Let's stand, yeah?"
His hands wrap around your arms and he pulls you to your feet. Your legs wobbled, cramped from the cold and the cramped position. He steadies you with ease, his touch surprisingly gentle. You let out a shaky breath and he makes a sound - something almost fond - and brushes the hair from your forehead.
"Stay close," he reminds you, fingers lingering on your forehead. "I'm Jeonghan, by the way." You give him your name, breath fogging around the shape of it. "Pretty. Tasteful. Like Amontillado."
Jeonghan slides an arm around your waist, pressing you close to his side. His body is solid and warmer than it should be in the freezing night. You don't pull away, too stunned and too terrified to do more than follow as he leads you toward the open door of the train car.
It becomes immediately clear why he told you not to look at anything.
Outside the train car is a slaughterhouse. You freeze in the doorway but he tsks and jumps to the ground, turning to pick you up by the hips and swiftly puts you down. You suck in a sharp air at how easily he does it, movements quick and effortless.
Bodies are everywhere. Train workers lie scattered across the yard, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, throats torn open, blood pooling in the dark. The metallic scent hits you, thick and coppery and your stomach turns over. You duck into his arm as he hushes you gently, hiding your face.
"Come on," he murmurs, arm tightening. "We have to walk, Amontillado."
You can't help but look, stomach lurching. There are figures - people - bent over the fallen men of the train yard, their mouths pressed to necks and wrists. The scene confuses you, bloody faces pressed into the flesh of the fallen, blood running down chins and necks as their throats gulp-
The word slams into you, impossible and yet you don't know how else to describe what you're seeing. You've read Dracula before, but what you see here is worse, the ravenous hunger displayed in red carnage too real, too vivid to process.
Another scream makes you startle. You see a worker pinned under two of the creatures, his legs kicking futilely as they rip into him. Blood sprays and you clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your gasp.
Jeonghan doesn't react. He leads you through the carnage, his steps sure and unhurried. Casual. Like he does this all the time.
One of the vampires turns toward you, a burly man with wild eyes and blood matting his beard. He straightens when he sees you, his eyes flashing unnatural silver as he steps into the moonlight, grinning, mouth a gash of red and teeth.
"Ah-ah," Jeonghan warns, his words hissed. "Mine. Please finish and load the casks in the middle car. They're what we were looking for."
The vampire dips his head slightly. "Understood, boss."
Jeonghan keeps you moving , guiding you past the worst of the bodies, stepping carefully over pooling blood that steams in the cold. The yard is vast, tracks stretching into darkness like black rivers, and the vampires are finishing their work - dragging corpses into neat piles, licking crimson from their fingers, wiping mouths on sleeves. The silence is heavier now, the screams gone, replaced by the occasional wet smack of lips or the crunch of bone under boots.
Your teeth chatter despite the jacket, and he notices, pulling you even closer so your side is flush against his. His body radiates heat in a way that feels wrong for the season, wrong for anything human, but you lean into it anyway, desperate for anything that isn't the biting wind or the copper reek of blood.
"Why did he call you boss?" You murmur, eyeing the car he leads you toward. It is eerily empty in the train yard. You realize they have - the vampires - have killed everyone else. "Are you a gangster or something?"
"Hardly."
Despite the violence, it relieves you. You hadn't run from the mafia into another. Though you think this might be worse.
"I'm in charge of a rather complex operation," Jeonghan tells you, opening the car door. You let him usher you inside, the interior cool. "One of which, you have just stumbled upon."
You swallow. "Why save me, then?"
He glances down, that faint smile returning, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Empathy, as I said. And perhaps curiosity. A little mouse who ran from one wolf only to stumble into a den of them. I think it would be a shame to let all that effort go to waste, Amontillado."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Amontillado is complex. Fresh. Lingering." He grins. "And it's my favorite."
Your fiance always said you'd never make it three blocks without him knowing.
You make it to Long Island, the moonlight shining through the car window as a vampire slides into the cab of the car next to you, looking down at you with a glint in his eye that you can't tell if it's curiosity or hunger. Or both.
-
The Hamptons are like nothing you've ever seen. Not that you've seen much outside of your tiny life in Manhattan. Snow dusts the ground in patches, glittering under the moonlight like sugar scattered over the extravagant lawns. Grand houses line the sides of the roads, their stone walls covered with overgrown ivy.
Winter is quiet in the Hamptons. You wonder what it looks like during the summer, full of life and light and parties that only exist in myth to you. It's beautiful in a lonely way, the empty fields stretching toward a dark horizon broken only by the occasional barn or silo. No crowds, no push of bodies on sidewalks, no blare of horn.
Most importantly, no Vin.
While the Hamptons isn't as far as you wanted to get from him, you think it's far enough. For now. You glance at the vampire next to you and think that Vin wouldn't be able to get to you here anyway. Not with the strange creature sitting next to you, his eyes flashing silver occasionally when the moon catches them just right.
Jeonghan feels you looking at him. He flicks his eyes to you, tilting his head as he drinks you in. Once again you're put off by the way his eyes dilate, pupils larger than they should be. They're beautiful in an unnerving way, a tingle starting at the base of your spine under his stare.
"First time out of the city?" He asks, voice quiet.
You nod, not trusting your voice yet. The car turns onto a smoother drive, the road narrowing as it curves toward the coast. Lights flicker ahead, gas lamps lining a long driveway. An estate emerges from the night, massive and made of all stone. The windows glint warmly against the dark, towers rising at the corners covered in winding ivory.
Your breath catches. It looks more like a palace than a house, a fantasy capture on pressed magazines and where people whispered about bootleggers and oil barons throwing parties until dawn in the summer. The car pulls up to the grand entrance, gravel crunching under tires, and the driver kills the engine.
Jeonghan exits first, offering a hand to help you out. You take it, stepping out on legs that feel like jelly. The air smells like salt and pine, sharp and cleaner than anything you've ever breathed in. You take a few gulps of air, the cool burning your lungs. He makes a sound like he's amused before he tugs you forward toward the steps that lead up to the mansion.
It's even more imposing up close, the double doors carved of heavy oak. You hesitate a little at the carved gargoyles, a strange piece of architecture in a place like this. Jeonghan brisks past them, opening the door with a gentle push, like the house answers to him.
"Welcome," he teases, ushering you inside.
Warmth hits you immediately, such a relief that you can't help but make a small noise in the back of your throat. The air carries a faint scent of wood polish and cigar smoke, warm and inviting. The grand foyer is made up of marble floors veined in gold, a staircase sweeping up toward the shadowed upper levels. Paintings line the walls, dark depictions of stormy seas and dark florals. A grandfather clock ticks in the corner, the pendulum swinging slow and steady like your pulse.
You stand there, dripping melted snow onto the pristine floor, feeling small and out of place in your thin clothes and borrowed jacket. The amount of wealth in front of you is something you've never seen before. Your family had money - not you - and your fiance had money too, but not like this. Not the old money that keeps these houses heated even when they're empty in winter, and full of life in the summer.
"What now?" You ask, voice small in such a vast space.
Jeonghan turns to you, dark eyes searching. "Unless you have somewhere else to go, I'd presume you're stuck here."
Stuck. The word twists inside of you. You'd been stuck in Manhattan, too. Until you finally ran, knowing it was better to die of the cold than it was to die at the hands of a violent man who wanted only your family's name and money. Not you. Never you.
"Stuck." You repeat the word, voice hollow. "I've been stuck my entire life."
"The world out there isn't kind to strays. Especially the kind like you, who have seen something they shouldn't have. My kind don't leave witnesses."
Nervousness coils tight in your chest, your hands fidgeting with the jacket's hem. "But you said you wouldn't hurt me."
"I won't." There is an unspoken yet that lingers between you. But he softens anyway, sympathy - either fake or real you can't tell - crosses his face. "I give you my word. But being with me does have consequences. There are rules and dangers, others who won't hesitate like I did. You have to trust me, and I have to trust you."
Trust. The word tastes bitter, after Vin's lies and the crack of his hand. You look at the closed door behind you, knowing that outside lies nothing but the cool winter of the Hamptons, empty until summer. Here though, it's warm. Here, there is a roof. A creature that could kill you, but perhaps would stand between you and Vin - and Vin's family.
"You're free to leave, if you wish," he murmurs. "You will be safe from whatever cruelty you've run from, if you're lucky. If you stay though, you will find a different sort of cruelty here. Never to you, but you will see things you're not used to."
You look up at him. "But you won't hurt me?"
"I won't hurt you."
It shouldn't be enough. But in a world like yours, filled with mob bosses and men who rule the city and every block of your home, you think that the promise of not hurting you is good enough. It's the only one you've ever received.
"It's enough," you whisper.
He hums. "I wonder what is so bad that you'd choose me over what you're running from, Amontillado."
"The mob."
"Indeed?" You nod. "You are unlucky. Come. You need rest."
He offers his arm, and after a beat, you take it. He leads you up the staircase, steps creaking faintly under your weight but silent under his. The banister is smooth mahogany, carved with intricate vines that twist like veins. You're suddenly reminded of blood, of the people in the train yard, the sounds.
Your stomach flips. There's no turning back now. So you let him lead you up, tired and sore and still a little cold.
The upper hallway stretches long and dim, gas lamps flickering in sconces, casting shadows that dance on wallpaper patterned with subtle florals. Doors line the walls, heavy wood with brass handles, every detail intentional and rich with an artistry that is beyond you.
Jeonghan pauses at a door near the end, turning the handle with a soft click. The room beyond is a dream. A four-poster bed dominates the center of the room, draped in velvet curtains the color of midnight. A fireplace sits cold, but Jeonghan drifts toward it, immediately setting himself to the task of lighting it. You follow him, eager for warmth.
Windows overlook the dark grounds, heavy curtains - to block out the dawn, you realize - covering the glass. A vanity sits in the corner, mirror framed in twisting gold filigree. A wardrobe looms opposite, closed tight.
Flames lick to life. You hold out your hands, thankful for the heat as Jeonghan rises in one fluid motion. He looks like the devil, the orange light from the fire turning his face from angel to demon. Despite the heat, you shiver, staring at him as he cocks his head, looking at you like he doesn't know what to do with you.
"This room is yours," he says. He gestures toward a door. "There's a bath through that door. I can send for a tailor for clothes in the morning. You look dreadful and unless humans have rapidly adapted in a way I'm unfamiliar with, you're going to freeze dressed like that."
"I…" You hesitate. "You don't have to do that."
"I don't have to, you're right." He walks toward the door, steps silent. "Like I said, I was feeling empathetic, Amontillado. And perhaps I'm loath to see such a pretty thing snuffed out after fighting so hard to keep burning."
His words make your stomach flutter. You watch him go, unsure how to thank him. Unsure if you should thank him. Unsure if this is all a mistake and if he's going to kill you and drain you when you let your guard down, a liar to the end, just like Vin.
Jeonghan pauses at the door and levels you with a look that feels like he can sense your fear again. "Sleep. We'll talk more tomorrow night."
Tomorrow night.
Because you won't see him during the day. You swallow thickly, nodding. "Thank you, Jeonghan."
"Lock the door if it makes you feel safer. Though nothing here will harm you without my say."
Then he's gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving you alone. You stand there, heart pounding, the jacket still wrapped around you smelling like jasmine. The fire pops, and you move finally, shedding the coat and sinking onto the bed's edge.
For the first time all night, you lay down on a bed, sinking in. It's softer than anything you've ever known, and you wonder what it would be like to live like this, surrounded by softness. By richness.
Sleep drags at you, and just as you begin to fall asleep, it occurs to you that perhaps you've just traded one cage for another.
-
You wake with a start, sucking in a warm breath of air as you sit upright. The room spins, unfamiliar and confusing as the last dregs of your nightmare start to melt away, flashes of images sticking to you: Vin's snarling face, your mother's iron cold hand on your wrist, blood pooling in your mouth, cheek stinging as your father yells.
The room is dim, fire refused to glowing coals that cast a faint orange glow across the velvet curtains. Your heart begins to slow as you remember where you are. You're not in that tenement apartment with thin walls and shouting neighbors, with Vin's heavy footsteps and angry shouting.
You draw your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. The memories of last night settle around you like sediment in water: the fire escape's icy bite, the train yard with pools of blood, Jeonghan's voice cutting through the wet sound of flesh parting and blood spilling.
Shaking it off, you get up and pad to the curtains, peeking between them. Late afternoon slips through the velvet, pale gold light turning the snow outside sugary. The grounds of the estate stretch wide and white, oaks stripped bare from the winter, icicles hanging like crystals from their branches. A frozen fountain sits sentinel in the drive, a detail you'd missed the night before.
Beyond the estate, you see the Atlantic. It rolls grey and restless, the horizon swallowed by clouds. No people. No movement except the wind. It seems that this lonely house is smack in the middle of the extravagance of the Hamptons, but the winter has chased everyone else away.
Everyone else except the man who'd brought you here last night.
Turning away from the window, you look at the door to the bedroom. You'd taken his advice and locked it last night to feel better, still small and a little afraid in this strange house. Now, you wonder if it's safe to explore. Jeonghan had said he would see you the next night and he hadn't forbad you from exploring during the daylight hours.
Curiosity overrides the lingering tremor in your hands. You need to move, to map out this place in your mind, to find exits in the event you need them again, to prove to yourself that you're not trapped.
The hallway outside is hushed, gas sconces turned low, their flames steady behind etched glass. Doors line both sides, dark wood gleaming, brass handles cold under your fingertips as you test one. It's locked so you don't push further, drifting toward the staircase. The bannister is smooth under your palm, dingers trailing along the carved vines, half expecting them to twitch and come to life in this strange place.
Downstairs, the foyer is empty, afternoon light slanting in through the tall windows, dust motes floating in the air. The grandfather clock ticks slowly in the corner, the only sound to accompany you as you turn left toward an archway that leads to a parlor. Velvet settees in burgundy and marble-topped tables fill the room. Empty crystal decanters glinter in the sunlight, tossing rainbow prisms around the room.
A beautiful grand piano sits in the corner. You drift toward it, noting that there's no dust, despite the lid being closed. The sheet music is yellowed at the edges - Mozart, you realize. Your lips twitched, tapping the top as you wonder if it's Jeonghan who plays.
You pass from the parlor, drifting room to room. Each one unfolds, richer and more marvelous than the last. There's a dining hall with a table stretched long enough for banquets, a conservatory with walls of fogged glass and full of ferns and orchids that are sleeping under the frosty panes, a billiard room with scarred felt and perfectly racked cues.
Paintings watch your exploration from every wall. The gilded frames are filled with stern men in high collars and ladies with keen eyes. You shiver as you pass them, wandering until you find a set of ancient double doors cracked open, the smell of paper and wax luring you in.
You step inside, the warm lamplight spilling over you. Your breath catches - it's a library. It's massive inside, shelves climbing three stories high with ladders on brass rails. Leather spines in every color line the shelves, some with gold lettering, some in lettering you can't read at all. It smells like paper and ink, drawing you in.
It's dark inside as you drift toward a shelf, your fingers tracing titles. Poe. Shelley. Things in Latin and French you don't know how to read. You smirk when you see Stoker, pulling the tome from the shelf and drifting toward the lamplight as you finger through the thin pages.
You settle on a rug on the floor, closest to the single floor lamp that's on. Even with the lamp, it's a challenge to read, the darkness of the library pressing in as you squint at the opening lines of the story - though now real, perhaps - interested in what truths you might find.
A needle-thin awareness prickles at the back of your neck. You look up, turning over your shoulder, heart skipping as a chill settles in. You see nothing at first, eyes struggling to adjust in the dim light. You nearly write it off as paranoia from the subject material in your lap when you see it, the outline of a shadow near the stacks, just at the wavering edge of lamplight.
Panic locks you in place. There's a man standing in total shadow, tall and broad-shoulder. You can barely make out his face, but you see him cock his head, the lamplight reflecting off glasses. Your heart begins to race when you see the unnatural silver flash of his eyes - vampire.
He drifts forward and yet he hardly seems to move at all. One second he's in total darkness, the next he's in the orange glow, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your instincts scream predator. His lips part, revealing the barest flash of fang, and a low growl vibrates from his chest - quiet and gentle, but it vibrates through you, terror unlike anything you've ever known thrumming through you.
"Wonwoo."
Jeonghan's voice slices through the tension like a blade. You flinch, looking at where Jeonghan has appeared in the doorway. He's in a white shirt that's open at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He steps forward and appears between you and the vampire - Wonwoo - in the blink of an eye, impossibly fast.
"We have a guest," Jeonghan says. "I apologize - I haven't had a moment to tell you and I didn't think our little Amontillado would go wandering." Jeonghan glances at you, eyes glittering. "She's braver than I thought she is. Let's leave her be, please."
Wonwoo's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking. His gaze flicks from Jeonghan to you, hunger warring with something colder - resentment, maybe. He exhales through his nose then turns, vanishing into the shadow again. You blink. One moment he's there, the next he's gone, a phantom among the stacks.
Jeonghan drifts toward you and crouches, sighing. "Breathe. You're safe."
It isn't until he says something that you realize you're shaking. You swallow and nod, snapping the book shut in your lap.
"I didn't mean to tresspass. I was just looking."
"I know. It's alright. You did nothing wrong."
You look up at him and he gives you a lazy smile before leaning forward to pluck the book out of your lap. He huffs when he sees it, holding it up, cover toward you, as he arches a brow in question. You flush, looking at your hands in your lap.
"Thought I could learn a thing or two."
"Stoker doesn't get much right," Jeonghan chuckles. He offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you up. His touch is warm and steady, thumb brushing over your knuckles briefly before he releases you. "I should have warned you not to wander at first. You're not a prisoner here, you are certainly free to treat the house as your own. But a gentle reminder that this house has teeth."
"How many teeth, then? Besides you."
"Three. Wonwoo, who you just met. He's particular about territory and he doesn't like people in his library without warning, so please ask for permission next time. Junhui you don't have to worry about, he is incredibly kind and is fond of humanity. Soonyoung…" Jeonghan pauses, expression darkening. "Soonyoung struggles. He is a gentle soul, but blood calls to him louder than the rest of us. Stay away from the east wing unless you're with me, yes?"
You nod. "No east wing. Understood."
Jeonghan studies you a moment longer, then offers his arm. "Let me show you properly. No more surprises."
You slip your hand through the crook of his elbow, fabric of his shirt soft against your palm. Your heart races and you wonder if he can tell, the twitch of his mouth something between smug and genuine. You let Jeonghan lead you back through all of the rooms you toured yourself, but now with his soft voice pointing out things you never noticed before.
In the parlor, he sits at the piano, lifting the cover. You grin, drifting toward him as his hair falls forward in his eyes while his fingers run over the keys. It's not the sheet music in front of him, but it's something darker and more melodic, the sound swirling around you.
Your eyes fixate on his hands, watching the way he plays. They're delicate and fluid, moving over each key intimately, like stroking a lover. It makes you flush as you listen to him until he finishes, the last note dying in the warm air.
"It's beautiful," you murmur.
He glances up, dark eyes wide. "The piece or the player?"
Heat creeps up your neck. You look away, but not before catching the spark in his gaze, something warm and teasing. It tugs at your heartstrings. You don't know what to do with warm and teasing, so used to Vin's vitriol and cool dismissal.
Jeonghan picks the tour back up, leading you down into the wet cold of the cellars. You shiver, following him down the stone steps. Lanterns glitter to life as he passes, the soft yellow glow throwing light and shadows.
At the bottom, you step into a room with vaulted ceiling overhead and crates lining the walls, each labeled with something innocuous. He drifts toward one, prying the top with that same inhuman strength he'd used the night before to reveal dark bottles inside.
Your breath catches at the sight. There are dozens of bottles of amber liquor and dark crimson, vicious in the low light.
"Bootlegging is popular among us," he says, voice low. "It's made it easier for us to run blood. We run both blood and liquor across the East Coast - New York, Boston, Phildelphia." He taps a bottle of red. "The real cargo is the blood. It makes it easier for us to live in the open when we have a supply."
"The train last night - was it carrying both?"
"It was." He drifts closer, eyes darkening. "So imagine my surprise to find you among my well-paid for Amontillado, hmm?"
"Do all your… endeavors go that way?"
He sharpens. "No. Those men last night were trying to steal from me."
"Oh."
Jeonghan closes the crate and leads you back up the stairs. His hand brushes against the small of your back when you stumble, leading you carefully out of the dark and back to the top. Your skin tingles despite the separation of fabric, and when he steps away, you realize you wish he wouldn't.
"Tell me about you," he says, crossing his arms behind his back as you stroll toward the conservatory. "Not the escape. But before. Why you were running."
You chew your lip, suddenly embarrassed to recount your life to him. How to tell him that you could have had an okay life if you were good at being seen, not heard, if you could just say the right thing at the right time. If you could just accept Vin's apologies and flowers that always followed harsh words and a smack.
"My family business was…" You start, looking for words.
"The mob." You nod. "So you said."
"My family wasn't very high up but the son of a powerful man thought I was pretty. My father paid for his seat at the table and promised me to him." You look at your hands, hating the way your voice constricts. "Like I was property."
"You're not property." You glance up at him. His eyes are dark, something you can't read in them. "And I need you to know when I say mine - it is different among my kind. It is only true in protection, not ownership. I told you you were not a prisoner here. I meant it."
"Thank you, Jeonghan."
Jeonghan’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer, something unreadable flickering behind those dark eyes. Then he offers the smallest nod. "Come, there's still more to see."
He guides you through the rest of the ground floor with the same patient cadence he’s used all evening, never rushing or crowding you. You pass a smoking room lined with leather-bound books of poetry and shelves of crystal decanters, a conservatory annex where orchids sleep under frost-laced glass, a solarium whose leaded windows overlook the frozen sea beyond.
Every room feels both lived-in and impossibly untouched, as though the house has been waiting decades for someone living to walk its halls again. Jeonghan moves through it all with casual ownership, fingers occasionally brushing a carved chair rail or trailing along the edge of a marble mantle. You notice how he never quite touches anything for long, as though the textures of the human world are both familiar and faintly foreign to him now.
You wonder what it must be like to be a vampire. You don't know much about them beyond the violence of the trainyard and the pages of Bram Stoker's Dracula. You have no idea how much of Stoker's recount of them is myth or fact, but Jeonghan seems human enough, once you look past his stillness and the silent way he moves. He smiles earnestly, eyes crinkling. He has secret smiles when he seems to remember something.
Still. There is a hint of melancholy about him, a touch of sadness that you can't really understand as he shows you the pieces of his home like he's introducing you to relatives he hasn't seen in a long while.
Eventually the tour curves back toward the center of the house. He pauses at an arched doorway you hadn’t noticed earlier, half-hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. Warm light spills from the other side, carrying the faint scent of coffee and something buttery.
“The kitchen,” he announces, drawing the curtain aside. “I thought you might be hungry.”
You hesitate on the threshold. The kitchen is far larger than anything you've ever stepped foot in. Copper pots hang from iron racks overhead, gleaming softly under pendant lights. A long island of black marble runs down the center, flanked by high stools. Windows line one wall, snow drifting being frosted glass.
Jeonghan glances back at you. “You’re allowed in here, Amontillado. In fact-" He pats the countertop beside him. "Up you go."
You blink. “On the counter?”
“Yes. It’s the best seat in the house when I’m cooking.”
There’s a playful lilt to his voice that makes your stomach do an uncertain flip. You climb up carefully, the marble cold through the borrowed clothes. Jeonghan doesn’t comment on your bare legs or the way you tug the hem down self-consciously - he simply starts pulling out materials for breakfast.
You watch as he gathers eggs, butter, a small wheel of cheese in wrapped paper, a bundle of chives. He unwraps a loaf of bread that looks as though it was delivered today, the crust still dark and crisp. He sets a cast-iron skillet on the burner and lights the gas with a quick twist of the knob, every move efficient and practiced.
“I don’t usually keep food in the house,” he says conversationally. "When it's just me and the others, the pantry is mostly empty. When we have large parties, I simply cater. But after last night, I had several things delivered at dawn. Figured you needed more than survival instinct to live on."
You let out a surprised laugh. “You ordered food? For me?”
“Unless you’d prefer I let you starve. Which would be terribly inconvenient, considering I’ve already decided I like having you around.”
Heat crawls up your throat. Instead of acknowledging his comment, you say, "I didn't imagine vampires cooked."
“We don’t need to eat.” He cracks eggs into a bowl with one hand, the motion practiced, elegant in its refinement. "But some of us remember how. I enjoy it. The rhythm of it. The way heat changes things. The small alchemy of salt and time. I used to like feeding people."
The admission is quiet, almost offhand, but it lands somewhere deep in your chest. You watch the way his forearms flex beneath rolled sleeves, the careful way he folds chopped chives into the eggs. There’s something intimate about witnessing it. He's entirely different from the man who led you through blood and gore just the night prior.
Jeonghan slides the omelet onto a plate and adds two thick slices of break slicked with butter into the pan, toasting them briefly before removing them and adding them to the plate. He turns to face you, setting the plate next to you with a small flourish, followed by freshly squeezed orange juice.
"Eat," he says softly, leaning one hip against the counter as he crosses his arms. "I know it's technically evening, but breakfast should be enjoyed at any time."
You pick up the fork. The first bite is impossibly good and you make a small, involuntary sound of pleasure and he grins. "Good?"
"Better than good. I haven't eaten anything since… I left."
His expression softens. He reaches over and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You freeze briefly, but if he's put out by your reaction, he doesn't show it. He simply watches you, those dark eyes uncanny and incredibly open. And kind.
It sends a shiver down your spine. You don't know the last time someone looked at you with kindness, and yet the creature in front of you has made you feel more cared for in the last twelve hours than most of your family have your entire life.
"If you want more, I'll make more."
You smile, soft and small. "You said you like feeding people."
"I do."
"Why?"
He considers the question, gaze drifting toward the window where snow has begun to fall again in slow, fat flakes. “Because once I was human. And once I was hungry in ways that had nothing to do with blood. I remember what it felt like to be taken care of. To matter enough that someone would stand at a stove and make something warm for you. I suppose I'm selfish and I like the reminder."
It reminds you of what he said last night: I was feeling empathetic.
You think it might be more than that, that perhaps that under the sharp, playful exterior of the vampire is something that longs for kindness in an overly cruel world. You don't say so, but Jeonghan's actions speak louder than the casual cruelty you saw last night.
Jeonghan watches you finish the last bite of toast, the way your tongue darts out to catch a stray crumb from your lower lip. He doesn’t speak right away. Instead he reaches past you to collect the empty plate, his sleeve brushing your bare forearm.
He sets the plate in the deep porcelain sink, runs water over it for a moment, then turns the tap off and dries his hands on a linen towel. When he faces you again, he seems inquisitive. He leans against the counter, arms crossed as his eyes drink you in. You feel a little exposed under that heavy gaze, fidgeting as he assesses something.
“I’ve been thinking,” he says. “About last night. About the train. About how easily you could have died in half a dozen different ways before I ever found you behind those barrels.”
"I know. My fiance said I wouldn't make it three blocks without him."
"Is that so?"
You nod. "But I made it all the way here."
“So you did.” One corner of his mouth lifts, not quite a smile. “Alive. Warm. Resilient as I've ever seen in a human.” His gaze drops briefly to your mouth, then returns to your eyes. “It occurred to me that I might have use for someone like you.”
Your heart stutters. "Use?"
"My business requires a certain kind of performance. We move products through human channels. Speakeasies and backroom deals, deliveries that need to look legitimate to anyone wearing a badge or asking questions. The humans we employ are useful, but they're not one of us. They don't know what we are. They know that we're something, but it's a risk for us."
You straighten, realizing where this was going. You wipe the crumbs from your fingers, nervous but interested. You've never had a job before, and you don't dare to hope that Jeonghan is giving you one now, but you listen eagerly.
"You've already proven your worth to me," he continues. "You ran from a man who would have killed you for less than what you saw last night, and you didn't scream once. Didn't run away in the night. I need someone I can trust with the daylight side of things. Someone who can walk into a club at noon to check inventory and smile at the suppliers or charm the cops. I'd like that someone to be you, if you're up for it."
You blink, stunned. No one has ever asked you to do anything that mattered. Not like this. Your father wanted you silent and ornamental. Vin wanted you to be compliant and decorative. Even your mother’s rare moments of attention came with instructions on how to sit, how to speak, how to disappear into the background of powerful men’s lives.
What Jeonhan is offering you is the opposite. He's not offering marriage or to be a decoration. He's asking if you want a role. A purpose. Agency to do something on his behalf. He must see the realization cross your face because his expression softens, just a fraction.
“There’s no obligation,” he adds quickly. “If you say no, nothing changes. You stay here as long as you want. You read in the library. You eat whatever ridiculous quantity of food I have delivered."
"And if I say yes?"
"I’ll teach you. Everything. How the liquor routes work. Which speakeasies are ours and which ones we tolerate. How to spot a fed before he opens his mouth. How to move money without anyone noticing the blood on it.”
"Really?"
He smiles. "Yes. And I’ll keep you safe while you learn. No one will touch you. Not Vin. Not his people. Not mine.”
Your pulse is loud in your ears. Were this Vin asking, you'd feel like it was a trap. Some sort of trick question to get you to give him a reason to hurt you. But Jeonghan stares at you earnestly, no threat hanging above your head, no punishment for saying no.
A choice.
It's a choice, which you have little experience with. Jeonghan gives it to you freely, leaving it up to you whether you want to learn something new, to have a job - an important one, one that requires trust. Respect. The very thought of getting to be important to someone - of getting to help - makes your heart race.
A few hours ago, you were ready to risk freezing on a train to go somewhere far away. You'd had no plan other than to pick up whatever job you could, to scrap something together from nothing. You'd been desperate and ready to risk your life to get away from Vin and your family, willing to do anything.
"I've never…" You pause, taking a breath. "No one has ever asked me to help with anything important before."
"I don't want you to be quiet or invisible." He takes a step toward you, then hesitates. He seems to want to move closer, but he thinks better of it, leaning against the counter again. "A woman willing to do what you did last night deserves a chance at being something, Amontillado. I want to give you the chance to be sharp. To be seen."
You think of your father’s study, the way he’d talk business over cigars while you were sent to the parlor to embroider or pour tea. You think of Vin’s apartment, the way he’d lay out your days like a schedule. How he'd tell you when to smile, when to look away, when to pretend the bruises were accidents. You think of every time you were told your worth was in your face, your name, your ability to be handed from one man to another like a signed contract.
Jeonghan's gaze rests on you. You look at him - this creature who could kill you with a flick of his wrist - and feel heat in his gaze. Vin looked at you like something to be shown off. Jeonghan looks at you like you might be the missing piece in his carefully constructed world. Someone who could walk into rooms where people lie and cheat and kill, and walk out with information, with leverage, with power.
You've never had power before. The allure of it is hypnotic, a pull to something you've only dreamed about having. You know that helping him means stepping deeper into this world, that last night's trainyard of blood and violence will become commonplace. If you say yes, you’re choosing to stand closer to the monsters. You’re choosing to become complicit. Useful. Necessary.
But you'd be protected in a way you'd never had before, and important enough to make your own decisions. Defend yourself, even. Maybe.
The option to say no is there too. To live a life hidden here, under Jeonghan's care. But you want more than safety. You want purpose and you want to know what it feels like to be the one making choices instead of having them made for you, even if the choices are dangerous.
You lift your chin, leveling your gaze with his. "I would like that."
His pupils flare, black swallowing the silver flash for a heartbeat. Then he exhales softly, almost laughing as the tension thrumming through him eases. You realize he thought you were going to say no, and you delight in having surprised him.
“Tomorrow night, then,” he says. “After dark. I’ll take you to our flagship in Manhattan. You’ll meet the staff, see how the front room operates, learn the signals we use when something’s wrong. You’ll wear something that makes you look untouchable.” His gaze travels down the length of you, lingering on bare legs, then back to your face. “I’ll have clothes sent up. Something black. Something sleek. Something that says you're protected.”
The possessive edge to the words should frighten you. It doesn’t. Not when he says it like a vow instead of a chain. Not when you’ve just chosen to walk into his world with your eyes open.
Jeonghan grins and steps forward, offering you a hand to help you down from the counter. You slide your palm into his and he helps you down, but doesn't let go of your hand right away. His thumb strokes over your knuckles once, slow and deliberate.
"Rest," he murmurs. "Read. Bathe. Eat again if you're hungry, ask for me to make you a meal. Whatever you want. Explore, so long as you stay away from the east wing, yes? You remember?"
"Yes. That's where Soonyoung is."
He releases your hand but stays close. “And Amontillado?” You look up at him. “When we step outside these walls tomorrow night, you walk like you belong there. Because you will."
With a small grin, he leaves you there, drifting from the kitchen and through the curtain, a silent wraith. You sit there a moment longer, replaying the decision in your head. Fear and exhilaration twist together until you can’t separate them. You’ve just agreed to work for a vampire. To lie to people. To handle money that’s been laundered through blood. To step into rooms where danger is as ordinary as the sky is blue.
But for the first time in your life, the choice was yours. Three blocks and some change away - further than Vin said you'd ever get - you feel lighter than you have in years.
-
Dracula sits in your lap as you curl into the deepest armchair you can find in the salon downstairs. Your legs are tucked beneath you, the fire in the grate burning down to embers. It's quiet, night turning late as you flip through the pages of your book, engrossed with the way the letters in the novel unfold, feeding you pieces of information that you're sure aren't fact, but rather embellished mysticism.
The door to the salon opens and you look up to see Jeonghan step inside. The sleeves of his white shirt are rolled to the elbows, his hair slightly mused. He pauses in the doorway, eyes finding you immediately.
"Good," he grins. "This is a good place to do it."
You close the book slowly. "Do what?"
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead he turns back toward the hall and makes a small gesture with his hand. Two men in dark suits enter behind him, each carrying leather cases and several garment bags folded carefully over their arms. Another man follows them, noticeably taller than Jeonghan with a lean, elongated frame.
His face is arresting, with sharp cheekbones and dark hair that frames dark, cat-like eyes. He's handsome, drifting gracefully into the room to perch on the settee, elegant as ever, dark eyes looking at you with interest.
Jeonghan closes the door behind him, drifting to lean on the bookshelf closest to you. The two men begin popping open their suitcases, revealing measuring tape, samples of fabric, and more. Your interest piques as you glance at Jeonghan, who smirks.
"Measurements," he tells you. "Can't keep wearing borrowed things forever, Amontillado."
You set the book aside and stand, the ill-fitting trousers and shirts a little baggy in some places and tight in others. Jeonghan watches you, his eyes missing nothing, gaze lingering a little. There's nothing overt in the way he looks at you, but you feel something in his gaze anyway, your face warming as you turn toward the tailors, heart pounding.
The man on the settee lifts his hands in a small wave when your eyes settle on him, curious. "Junhui," he says. "Jeonghan said he'd appreciate my opinion. I like clothes." He tilts his head, studying you. "It's nice to meet you."
"You too," you murmur, turning as the lead tailor steps forward.
"We will begin with measurements, Miss." He gestures to the open space between settees where the younger of the two men - his apprentice, you think - sets a small step. "Please stand on this small platform."
You hesitate only a second before stepping onto the makeshift platform. Jeonghan doesn’t sit. He leans one shoulder against the bookshelf nearest you, arms folded, watching with that same unhurried focus. Junhui shifts closer, perching on the edge of the settee so he can see both you and the tailors clearly.
The tailors begin to take your measurements, encircling tape around your bust, your waist, your arms. Junhui and Jeonghan watch in silence. Junhui's gaze is clinical and precise, while Jeonghan's makes the side of your face heat. You swallow past a knot in your throat, turning this way and that as the tailors work efficiently.
"She has a bit of a delicate build," Junhui notes. "Perhaps we can play that up without making her look fragile. Let's go with high necklaces but cut to show the line of her throat. Nothing that says look at me but rather says you should be looking."
Jeonghan makes a small sound, his fingers tightening briefly against his biceps. His eyes don't leave you for a second.
Junhui gestures to his own body for reference along the waist. "Create cinches here for her. Can I see the fabric? I'd like dark options - emerald, sapphire, burgundy. Nothing pastel. She isn't a debutante, though she is untouchable."
He glances at Jeonghan on the last word, smirking. Jeonghan doesn’t react outwardly, but there's a subtle shift in his posture, his gaze darkening just enough that his eyes flash that unusual predator silver when he tilts his head. He’s still leaning against the shelf, still casual, but there’s a tension in him now, coiled and quiet. Like he’s imagining you in every garment they’re describing. Like he’s already seeing the way the fabric will lie against your skin, the way it will shift when you turn, the way it will look under speakeasy lights when you’re standing beside him.
The thought sends heat crawling up your neck. You look away, focusing on the measuring tape as the apprentice moves to your inseam. The apprentice kneels, fingers delicate on the inside of your thigh, and Jeonghan makes a sound. Everyone goes rigid, your eyes flicking to his.
"Careful with your hands," he murmurs. "That's all."
When your eyes meet his again, he doesn’t look away. There’s no smirk, no teasing lift of his brow. Just that steady, intimate stare. You hold his gaze for longer than you mean to. Something shifts in the air between you that you don't understand, but you feel goosebumps spread down your arms as the tailors finish their measurements.
"We have what we need," the lead tailor says, bowing his head toward Jeonghan. "The first pieces will be ready by tomorrow evening."
Junhui stands, stretching like a cat. “You’re going to look devastating. Come find me in the north wing if you're ever looking to play cards."
You manage a small smile. “Thank you for your help."
He winks, then glances at Jeonghan. “I’ll leave you to it. See you tomorrow night.”
Junhui slips out, followed by the tailors, who murmur polite goodbyes and promise delivery. The door closes behind them with a soft click. Jeonghan pushes off the bookshelf and crosses to you in three silent steps. He stops just a step away, close enough that you smell the jasmine and faint cedar of his shirt.
"You can go back to reading. Dracula, was it?" You flush and he grins. "It's okay. Tell me what you think when you're finished."
You nod, throat tight. "Thank you, by the way. For the clothes but… also everything."
“You’re welcome, Amontillado.”
He doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t need to. The air between you hums as he dips his head, eyes lingering for only a moment before he drifts out of the room, soundless as ever. When the door clicks shut behind him, you drop into the chair again, heart pounding, head reeling.
-
Winter dusk settles over the Hamptons. You stand in your room - because it is your room now - turning in the full length mirror as you examine one of the dresses the tailor dropped off for you just an hour ago. It's a black dress made of crepe de chine, clinging to you like a second skin. The neckline is high like Junhui recommended, but frames the hollow of your throat, a subtle invitation of vulnerability in a room full of vampires that you think is meant to lure them in.
Your fingers tremble slightly as you smooth the fabric over your hips. This isn't the threadbare cotton dresses of your old life, nor the gaudy silks Vin paraded you in at mob dinners. This feels like armor, sleek and sensual, designed to make you move through the world with purpose. Untouchable, but not invisible. There is a difference in the two, and knowing that leaves a new hum resonating in you as the grandfather clock downstairs chimes.
Taking a deep breath, you remove a coat from the wardrobe, also newly delivered. It's heavy, and furlined, the collar thick to keep the wind off of you. You throw it over your arm and head downstairs, hurrying to not leave Jeonghan and Wonwoo waiting. Jeonghan had instructed you to meet them in the foyer at seven sharp, and you don't want to disappoint him from the start.
At the base of the stairs, Jeonghan leans against the banister, one hand in his pocket, the other idly tracing the vines carved into the wood. His suit is midnight wool, cut sharp and flawless, a white shirt open at the collar to reveal the pale column of his throat. Wonwoo stands just behind him, his black suit more severe, his hands clasped behind his back like a sentinel.
Jeonghan glances up as you approach, lips parting slightly. For a heartbeat, he is utterly still, a predator frozen in the act of spotting prey. His gaze sharpens and then softens immediately, like he's controlling an instinctual hunger as his gaze travels the length of you.
Heat blooms under your skin everywhere Jeonghan's eyes linger. You've seen desire before - Vine's was crude and greedy, a claim staked with bruises. This is different, a sort of awe that makes your heart beat faster as you reach him. Jeonghan's pupils dilate, and you feel a ripple of something go through him, a palpable change.
"Amontialldo," he murmurs. "You look utterly devastating."
"Thank you."
Wonwoo clears his throat politely, drawing your attention. His expression is stiff, jaw tight beneath his glasses, but there's no hostility, just a guarded politeness. "Sorry for the other night."
"It's alright. I won't intrude again."
His mouth twitches. "The library is open to you. Perhaps just… knock."
Outside, the car is waiting. Jeonghan offers you his arm and you take it, the wool of his sleeve warm against your bare fingers. His touch is light, but the proximity is intoxicating - the faint jasmine scent of him, the solid warmth. Wonwoo falls behind you as Jeonghan pauses at the front to help you shrug on your coat before leading you outside into the cold night, snow crunching under your boots.
The car idles for you, and the same driver from the other night opens the door. You slide in across the leather seat, Jeonghan's hand helps you before he follows, settling beside you. Wonwoo takes the other side, bracketing you between them.
Sitting between two vampires is odd. Wonwoo is stiff, leaning into the door. You think it's to offer you a little comfort, which you're grateful for. Jeonghan's presence is the opposite. His knee knocks into yours occasionally as the car drives through the frozen Hamptons, sometimes lingering. You glance at him to find him watching you already, tension thrumming through him like a plucked string. He doesn't speak, but his gaze flicks to your mouth briefly before he turns to watch the world pass by out the window.
You wonder if he feels it too, a single magnetic thread between you. You shake off the thought. If there's any desire there, you think it might be the instinctual one to bite you, the one that he clearly makes an effort to retrain as he watches the world pass by. Wonwoo stares straight ahead, stiff as a statue, but you catch the subtle flare of his nostrils, as though scenting the shift in the air.
It must be difficult for them, you realize. You're pressed between them, your blood probably a temptation. You try to make yourself smaller, shrinking in on yourself to make it easier on them, to-
"Don't do that," Jeonghan murmurs. You glance at him, eyes wide. "We're perfectly comfortable. Aren't we, Wonwoo?"
"Quite."
You nod, relaxing a little as Jeonghan's mouth quirks before he looks out the window.
The drive to Manhattan stretches long and silent at first. Bare trees claw at the starless sky, their branches like shadows against the night. The car's heater hums, warming the cabin until it's nearly stifling. It isn't until the city is blooming on the horizon, a spill of lights against the oil slick of night that Jeonghan breaks the silence.
"The first place we're visiting tonight is simply called The Red." His voice is soft, barely above a murmur. "It's our flagship, essentially. It fronts as a high-end jazz club, but the real business is below. Liquor for the humans, blood for us. Tonight you'll meet the staff and learn the signals. It's just about learning. No tests."
"Stay close," Wonwoo adds curtly. "The Red is our highest concentration of vampire customers. You won't be able to tell them apart from humans for the most part."
You nod. "I will."
The car weaves through the traffic as it plunges into the city's heart. Manhattan is alive and roaring, streets gleaming wetly from melty snow, reflecting the lights from neon advertisements for Coca-Cola and the newest Broadway show. Pedestrians huddle in fur coats, breath fogging the air, small areas lit by alleyway warming fires and the flash of police lights.
Your car arrives at a nondescript brick building in Greenwich Village, its facade unassuming and a single sign that denotes the building as a laundry service. Jeonghan helps you out of the car, the winter air biting as he leads you up the steps behind Wonwoo. Wonwoo raps three times on the door and waits until it opens.
"Evening, boss," a burly man greets.
Wonwoo claps the man on the shoulder and steps in, you and Jeonghan after him. The store is a dry cleaners. There are racks and racks of clothes in wrapped plastic and garment bags, a small counter ready to take orders with a till. A hallway leads back toward additional storage closets and offices, but it's otherwise entirely normal.
You glance at Jeonghan who grins, and nudges you to follow Wonwoo down the hallway, his fingers lingering at the small of your back. Wonwoo opens a door that leads to an office with a wardrobe, to which he then opens to reveal a false door and a set of stairs. You startle as he walks down the steps, vanishing into the dark.
"Careful," Jeonghan murmurs, breath against your ear as he guides you. "Don't miss a step."
As you go down, music swalls. The air grows heavier, scented with rose perfume, whiskey, and something metallic. The speakeasy unfolds before you like a living dream, all low ceilings and gas lamps that cast golden pools of light amid velvet shadows, illuminating booths upholstered in red leather. Couples lean close, lips brushing ears amidst laughter, the air heavy with cigar smoke.
Tables scatter the floor, covered in white linen stained with rings of spilled drinks, crystal ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts. The bar dominates one wall with bottles of amber and crimson liquids glinting behind it like jewels in the dim light. Bartenders in crisp white shirts move with practiced grace, pouring from unmarked decanters, their eyes sharp, missing nothing.
Someone offers to take your coat and you let them. You're unsure where to look, the entire speakeasy a kaleidoscope of sound and color - flappers in beaded fringe dresses that shimmer under the lights, en in pinstripe suits and fedoras cluster in groups, cigars clamped between teeth.
Jeonghan steers you through the throng, his presence a shield as he leads you to a large, empty booth in the corner. "This is ours. Always."
You slide in first, the leather cool and yielding against your thighs through the dress, sticking slightly to your skin in the humid warmth. Jeonghan follows, his thigh pressing against yours as he settles with his arms stretched either way across the back of the seat, not touching you, but close. Wonwoo takes the outer edge, his stiff posture a contrast to Jeonghan's relaxed elegance, eyes darting around.
A waitress approaches immediately. She's pretty, a young woman with pretty emerald earrings and a tight dress. "Gentleman and…" Her eyes flick to you, surprised. "New face?"
"She's with us," Jeonghan says over the noisy din. "You'll adjust to her. The usual for Wonwoo and I." Jeonghan looks at you. "What are you having?"
"Old fashion," you answer haltingly, looking from Jeonghan to the waitress. You've never had one, but you'd watched your father drink them, always wanting to try. "Rye, not bourbon. Extra bitters, if you have them."
Vin never let you order, always deciding for you like you were a child. Here, Jeonghan's lips curve in genuine pleasure, his fingers grazing your shoulder in approval. The waitress nods before slinking off, melting into the crowd.
"That's Ella," he tells you. "Very sweet, sharp. Probably the most loyal person we have, for a human. She knows we're something but not what. She handles the front bar, spots trouble before it brews."
Wonwoo shifts. "The signals are key here. See the bartender over there?" You lean, looking at the tall man behind the bar. He's broad shouldered and taller than anyone else in the bar, his hair slicked back and shining under the light as he flashes a smile at someone. "That's Mingyu. Note the pocket square in his jacket. What color is it?"
"Green."
"Good. Ella acts as a spotter. She'll tell Mingyu code words and the colors of his pocket square changes to alert the workers. Red means problem - feds or a rival, really anything that means one of us needs to address it to assess whether we need to clear out. Blue means someone is asking too many questions. Green is good. Yellow means shipment of liquor has arrived, orange means blood. You only need to handle yellow."
You nod, absorbing it, questions forming. "How do you hide the specialties?"
Jeonghan's eyes sparkle with that delight again, leaning closer so his shoulder presses yours. "Clever question. The liquor comes in marked as laundry detergent. Blood crates will be marked as ammonia."
Before you can respond, Ella returns with drinks. Two of the glasses are wine with a hint of something metallic - blood. The other is your old fashioned, the orange peel making the air tangy. You thank her and take the drink, sipping. It's strong enough to make your eyes water, scrunching up your face as it burns all the way down.
As Ella leaves, another man walks over, slender and elegant as a knife. "This is Minghao," Jeonghan says, gesturing to the man who bows his head a little. He's one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen, dark eyes shadowed in the dim bar. "He's our manager, but he can only work the night shift." You nod, understanding - vampire. "I'd like him to show you some things so you can handle the day shift."
"Really?"
He grins. "I meant what I said. Go, learn some things. I'll be watching." His eyes flicker to Minghao. "Take care of her, please."
His hand squeezes your knee under the table. It makes your heart lurch and you grin as Minghao steps to the side for you to slide out of the booth. You follow him to a small office behind the bar. It's cramped and lit by a single desk lamp, walls lined with shelves of leather-bound books.
Looking at Minghao, you know there's no way you would have been able to mistake him as a vampire after seeing Jeonghan and the others. His movements are too fluid, steps too silent. There's an eeriness about him in the dark that wars with his hypnotic beauty, voice soft as he introduces himself.
Minghao pulls a ledger out of a desk, pages filled with coded entries, dates and quantities with cryptic notes squeezed into margins. He taps to a line and glances at you as you allow yourself a single step closer, trying not to get into his personal space.
"See here," he says, tracing a line. "This is where we track inventory and payments including payoffs to cops and others. This book being accurate is paramount. What do you notice on this section of the page here at the bottom?"
You lean, licking your lips nervously. The faint citrus bite from your orange twist is still there as you look at the bottom of the page in question, trying to make sense of it. The numbers are easy, though you don't know what the items are - not yet. You can do math though.
You point to a line. "Here. This delivery is for ten items, but the payout equals that of twelve." You drag your finger up the pay. "Here is the same product at ten items for the right price. It should match but it doesn't."
"Meaning?"
"Whoever managed the delivery either overpaid on accident, or skimmed money off the top and disguised it as a price increase."
Minghao grins. "Smart. Yeah, caught someone saying there was a tax increase but Jeonghan talked to our supplier and confirmed there wasn't." He snaps the book shut and replaces it the drawer. "You're good at math?"
"I try. Never did anything with it, but I used to watch my fiance count money." Minghao raises his brows. "Ex," you tack on. "I'm not with him anymore."
You can tell he has questions, but he doesn't ask them. He simply nods and passes you a piece of paper. You unfold it to see it's a key for all of the product in the book, a code for each line item and what type of alcohol it is.
"You'll need to learn all our suppliers and who to trust," he says, leading you out of the office and into the hall. "If you start shadowing me, I can walk you through it. How good is your memory?"
"I'm not sure."
"Was Ella wearing jewelry?"
That makes you pull up short, thinking back to the waitress. "Yes. Emerald earrings."
His mouth quirks. "Good. You remember random details."
Minghao leads you back through the haze, turning to you. "We'll start you on daylight deliveries in about two weeks. Shadow me a few nights first. Learn the faces and the codes." He nods toward the booth as he heads to the bars. "Go on. Boss is waiting. Tomorrow, we start in full."
Giving a grateful smile, you slip back toward Jeonghan, sliding into the booth next to him. His thigh brushes yours as you settle and he gives you a little grin. Wonwoo acknowledges you for only a second before he goes back to scanning the crowd, watching closely.
"Well?" Jeonghan murmurs, breath fanning against your ear as he tilts toward you a little. "How'd it go?"
"Good, I think. He was pleased I remembered what kind of earrings Ella had on. He wants me to shadow him before I start daylight shifts."
"Emeralds. Matches her eyes when the light hits right." He tilts his head, dark hair falling forward as his cool fingers brush your shoulder briefly. "Good. Minghao wouldn't waste time with you if he thought you were unfit. I assure you."
The evening unspools like a glitterying thread around you. Jeonghan's murmur is a constant in your ear, pointing out the subtle tells of the patrons with a casual grace. You listen to each word and when you're brave enough, point out the things you see, the shifts in the room. The way a woman looks at her husband fearfully, the way another wears gloves too long to hide what you suspect are bruises.
Jeonghan's eyes darken when he realizes what type of observations you make. His jaw ticks and his gaze lingers on the male partners you point out, men who aren't regulars exactly, but frequent his bar enough that Jeonghan knows of them.
He knows of everyone. He seems to have some sort of knowledge about every person in the bar, even if it's their first time. You're unsure if it's a vampire thing, or if he can just overhear the dozens of conversations happening under the shield of jazz music and noise.
As your gaze sweeps across the bar, your eyes land on Mingyu. He's shaking a brass shaker, arms flexing. When he lowers his arms, you note the red square in his pocket and you stiffen.
"There's a red square in Mingyu's pocket," you breathe.
Jeonghan nods, humming as his finger idly traces the rim of his glass. He nods toward a man in a corner both to a wiry fellow in a rumpled suit, fingers tapping a staccato on his table. "Fed. Ella already let Mingyu know, which is why the red. Wonwoo will take care of it momentarily. No mess."
Wonwoo shifts minutely, his knee a solid barrier against yours on the other side, a silent counterweight to Jeonghan's fluid warmth. He doesn't speak much, but when a group of rowdy patrons edges too close to your booth, his eyes flash silver, and the air thickens just enough to send them stumbling back.
"You're probably wondering how to tell the vampires from the humans," Jeonghan notes.
You nod as Wonwoo slides out of the booth, drifting toward the man in the corner. You watch him change dramatically, shifting from stoic and cold to warm and friendly, shaking the man's hand.
"Minghao feels obvious," you note. "Once I knew that vampires existed, I mean. He's beautiful in a way that feels… wrong."
"Mhmm. It happens that way sometimes. Anything else?"
"Your eyes. They flash silver in some light."
"Good. Predators eyes. Without that, though? Can you pick the vampires out?"
Turning your eyes to the crowd, you try. But the crowd blurs together under the warm gaslight. Flappers laugh with their heads thrown back, men in pinstripes lean close over drinks, a couple sways on the small dance floor. Everyone moves, breathes, blinks. No one stands out as obviously other.
"I… can't," you admit, cheeks warming. "They all look the same."
"Good. That's the point."
"It is?"
He nods. "The differences are subtle. Deliberate. We spend centuries learning to mimic. But once you know what to look for, you can't unsee it." His finger traces an invisible line along the back of the booth, pointing without moving. "The woman in the silver dress at the bar - look how still her shoulders are, even when she laughs. Vampires lack natural movement and we sometimes struggle to replicate the fullness of life."
He nods toward a man in a charcoal suit near the piano. "Him. Breathing is shallower. Almost performative. We only do it when we remember we should."
Before you can ask more, movement catches your eye. The wiry man in the rumpled suit walks with Wonwoo, who is gesturing wildly with a smile on his face as they walk toward the back of the bar. Minghao is near the door, a blend of silver eyes and shadow as Wonwoo leads the man - the fed - down the hallway. Minghao shuts the door behind them and stands in front of it under the guise of smoking a cigar.
Minutes stretch. The music swells, then dips. Then Wonwoo reappears at the edge of the crowd - not back through the door at all. You raise your brows, watching as he walks to the booth smoothly and retakes his seat. He's still the same measured calm, but there's a flush to his necks and cheeks that wasn't there before.
Jeonghan leans in again, voice velvet-soft. "See that? The flush. Fresh from feeding. It's the only time we look truly warm. The blood brings the illusion of life back to the surface."
You nod, swallowing thickly. "Got it."
"That's how you'll know, eventually. When one of us has just fed. The color doesn't last long, but it'll be a warning for you. Freshly fed vampires are stronger, though a little less alert from the blood lust. Vampires who haven't fed are more unpredictable and sharper."
You nod, filing the detail away like a key. Wonwoo settles back into place without comment, though his posture seems fractionally looser, the tension in his jaw eased. He meets your eyes for half a second before returning his attention to the room. You think of him that night in the library, the way he had drifted forward, ready to end you there.
It unsettles you a little.
The night wears on. Jeonghan continues his quiet lessons, pointing out alliances and rivalries, naming the vampires among the humans with a tilt of his chin. Wonwoo interjects once or twice, voice clipped but polite. By the time the gas lamps dim and the crowd begins to thin, Jeonghan signals Minghao with a subtle raise of his glass to shut down.
Together, the three of you slide into the car. The drive back to the Hamptons is quiet, the city's roar fading to the hush of empty roads, snowflakes scattering like ash against the windows. You lean into Jeonghan's side without thinking, exhaustion pulling at your bones, his arm a loose curve around your shoulders. Wonwoo stares out at the dark, silent as ever, but you catch the faint softening of his jaw when you stifle a yawn.
It's cold when you get out, pre-dawn light tinting the sky. Jeonghan walks you up the wide front steps, his hand still wrapped loosely around yours. Wonwoo lingers a beat longer in the car before sliding out, coat collar turned up against the wind. He gives Jeonghan a single, unreadable look, then nods once at you with the barest twitch of a smile on his face. He drifts off, fading into the shadows of the home, leaving you with Jeonghan.
Jeonghan leads you up the stairs, the grandfather clock in the foyer ticking with each step. At the top of the stairwell, you pause. He hesitates, turning to face you. He doesn't rush or ask what's wrong. He simply waits, dark eyes patient.
"Thank you, Jeonghan."
He raises his brows. "What for?"
"For tonight. For giving me something more than just a place to hide. For giving me a choice. It's nice."
Jeonghan studies you for a long moment. You can barely make out his eyes in this light, but they're dark, pupils large, predator black. He lifts a shoulder, a barely-there shrug. "It isn't much."
"It's everything to me."
Something shifts behind his expression, soft and unguarded that he doesn’t bother to hide. His mouth curves, not the usual teasing tilt, but a slow, genuine grin that reaches his eyes and makes them crinkle at the corners. He reaches for you, gently tugging you by the hand until he's kissing your knuckles gently.
"You deserve more, Amontillado. But I will give you what I can." Your heart stutters as he tugs you down the hall gently. "Dawn is coming. Sleep, you deserve it."
You nod, throat too full to speak again. He releases your hand reluctantly, stepping back just enough to give you space to slip into your room. He winks at you before you shut the door with a soft click. You lean against it for a moment, still wearing the black dress, still carrying the faint scent of whiskey smoke and jasmine on your skin, heart pounding.
Outside, the first pale spill of dawn floods the yard, and for the first time in years, sleep finds you easily.
-
The weeks slip by like snow melting under the first weak spring sun. You settle into a rhythm at the Red, shadowing Minghao turning into running the books yourself most afternoons. It's mostly checking crates against manifest, spotting the occasional discrepancy before it can grow into a problem, and letting Minghao know.
You’ve learned the suppliers’ names, their tells, the way certain delivery boys linger too long at the back door when they think no one’s watching. You’ve learned which cops take envelopes without looking inside and which ones need a smile and a quiet word first. You’ve even started recognizing the regulars who come in during the day pretending to pick up dry cleaning, and you’ve gotten good at keeping your face neutral when you catch the faint metallic glint in their eyes.
Jeonghan is constant. Not in a way that feels suffocating like it had with Vin, but in the way the cold tide of the Hamptons is constant, always there, pulling gently, retreating just enough to let you breathe. He appears most evenings when you're finishing up, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk that you've come to think is something equal to fondness.
He always teases, light and playful banter, velvet words that make your stomach flip. But never pushes or crowds, never lingers too long. It's maddening the way he looms near you but not as close as you'd like him to, frustrating when he murmurs clever girl, Amontillado, before drifting away again.
It's always the same with him. The touches last long enough to spark heat under your skin, then vanish. Jeonghan keeps an entirely respectable distance. You tell yourself it's nothing - he's charming that way, like the moon. Distant. Beautiful. Constant.
You chalk it up to instant. To blood. Not to you. It only makes you like him more - more than you should, even. More than is safe. You keep that bit tucked away like a secret coin, something you only let yourself turn over in the dark when the house is quiet and you can't sleep, wanting to stay up and talk to him but knowing your schedule is flipped.
You belong in the sun, he'd told you. Only problem was that you wanted the moon.
Today the office smells of old paper, ink, and the faint citrus of the orange you peeled earlier. The bar is empty, lights off save for the desk lamp. Minghao shuffles in, readying for the nightshift. He ruffles your hair affectionately as he kicks snow off of his boots and hangs his coat on the back of a chair.
"How was today?" He asks.
"Fine. There's an entire load of red that Mingyu said smelled weird, though."
"Hm, I'll check it out. You're good up here?"
"Mhmm."
You keep working, the scratch of your pen the only sound until the buzzer on the desk rings. It's from the door upstairs. You frown, setting the ledger aside to let yourself out of the office and walk upstairs to the laundry front. A man is standing at the front desk and your frown increases. Minghao typically locks the front door when he comes in, especially if Tony isn't working the front to let people in.
"Hi," you greet, something your skirt down. "Can I be of any assistance?"
The man turns to you. His hands are in the pockets of his charcoal overcoat. He's tall and lean, his dark hair swept back, suit immaculate. Your gaze sweeps across his shoulders - they're too square, too pushed back. His head is cocked at an odd angle, and as you count his breath, you note that he breathes too slowly. Practiced.
There's a flush to the man's cheeks and as he peers at you, his pupils dilate. Vampire. You know the signs now. A vampire who has fed recently. You put yourself behind the desk, a deliberate choice to separate the two of you as he watches you. His nostrils flare and you watch as a shiver goes through him.
"I was told this was the place to get detergent."
Code. He wants blood - more of it. Your smile is pinched. "I'm afraid we're closed for book keeping. If you come back during our open hours-"
"I just need a little."
"You'll need to come back when we're open, sir."
He doesn’t answer. Just takes one slow step forward. Then another. The floorboards don’t creak. Your hand slides toward the small electronic alarm under the counter, but before your fingers can press it, he moves.
He's blinding fast, vaulting over the counter in a single fluid motion. You don't scream - you've learned better than that - but you do grab the heavy brass statue from the shelf behind you and swing it at him. It catches him across the temple with a sickening crack. He staggers, surprised, but he doesn't go down, hand snapping out as claws rake down your arm.
Pain blooms white hot, blood welling fast. You stumble away from him and slam into the wall. He lungs again, fangs clashing and you kick out hard, screaming this time. Your foot connects with his knee, making him stumble. He still comes at you though, hissing, eyes silver and furious.
A blur crashes through the doorway from downstairs. You barely register the vampire that drags your attacker backwards. You make out blonde hair and a white shirt as the newcomer hauls your attack to his feet and drives him into the wall hard enough to crack plaster and send an explosion of dust forward.
They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and snarls, an arch of blood splitting the air as you hear a wet rip. The blonde tears and tears and tears, the sound wet and violent until your assailant stops moving. You look upward, realizing as the blonde rises that the vampire's head is no longer attacked.
Your savior is heaving, standing and backing away from you rapidly. Blood covers his face and the front of his shirt, bright red, his eyes flashing molten silver in the low light. His pupils are blown so wide there's almost no iris left. He's trembling violently, every muscle coiled tight.
You press yourself flat against the wall, blood dripping steadily from your arm onto the floorboards. The copper scent fills the small space, thick and cloying. His eyes drop down to your arm. A ripple goes through him and he presses himself against the far wall, sliding toward the shop door.
"Don't move," he murmurs, voice low. "Please don't move." His hands flex. "Minghao!" His shout is raw, terrified. "Minghao!"
He takes a single, jerky step back, then another, putting distance between you even as his body visibly fights to close it. His nostrils flare again, pupils dilating impossibly wider at the scent of your blood.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps, voice cracking. "I was carrying something in for Minghao and heard the commotion and came upstairs. I'm not supposed to come upstairs when you're here. I'm not good with people. Not yet. I'm sorry-" He cuts off, shivering as he squeezes his eyes shut. "Minghao, please!"
You realize, with a cold jolt, who he is. Soonyoung. The east wing. The gentle soul who struggles. The one whose blood calls louder than the rest. He’s trying so hard not to look at you, trying not to breathe. His entire body is vibrating with restraint, the shivers violent.
Footsteps pound up the stairs, and in a moment, Minghao is there. "Soonyoung, don't."
A low, animal sound rips from Soonyoung's throat. His control snaps like a taut wire and he launches toward you. Minghao is on him, catching Soonyoung around the waist and hauling him backward as he screams for Mingyu.
Mingyu appears in the doorway a second later, broad shoulders filling the frame. He doesn't hesitate, grabbing Soonyoung's arms to help Minghao haul him backward down the stairs. Soonyoung thrashes, snarling rattling up the hall as they get him to the bottom where you hear his voice break into desperate apologies that fade as a door slams shut somewhere.
Silence.
You’re still against the wall, breath ragged, arm burning. Blood has soaked your sleeve to the elbow, dripping in slow, steady drops on the floor. You slide down until you’re sitting, knees drawn up, pressing your good hand over the worst of the gashes. The pressure hurts, but it slows the bleeding. You focus on breathing. Ignoring the dead vampire, you tear a strip of cloth from the bottom of your skirt with shaking handles and wrap it tight around your forearm.
A few minutes later, the door to the front slams open. You freeze, looking up fearfully, but it's Jeonghan who rounds the counter. He freezes for half a heartbeat when he sees you, then he's across the room in a blink, crouching in front of you. His hands over, not quite touching, his eyes dark and storming.
"Amontialldo," he says softly. "Please look at me." You do. His pupils are normal, no silver. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"
You shake your head. “Just the arm. Deep scratches. I fought back. Hit him with the ledger. Kicked him. It slowed him down a little."
"You did good."
He reaches for your arm, carefully and slowly. He peels back your makeshift bandage just enough to see the damage. His expression doesn't change, but his fingers tighten fractionally.
“These will need stitches,” he says quietly. “And cleaning. Come on.”
Jeonghan helps you stand, one arm around your waist. You lean into him, legs unsteady. He lets you, guiding you toward one of the back offices that only serve the purpose of making the front look legit. He opens one of them and sits you down at a desk, fumbling around until he finds a first aid kid. It's old, but there's gauze and antiseptic.
His hands are cool and steady as he works, crouching as he cleans the blood from your arm. You watch him. He doesn't shy away from the blood or lean in too close, his movements entirely methodical. Careful. You wonder what kind of control it takes for him to do this, to touch the blood and not take.
You think of Soonyoung.
"Soonyoung was here." Jeonghan looks up sharply, hands pausing. "He helped. I guess he heard the noise and he came upstairs. He… apologized too. said he wishes he was better with people."
"He's been trying for years. For some of us, the blood never quiets. Not really. He stays in the east wing because it's enough for him. Coming up here today to help you was a risk for him. Not a small one."
"If me living at the house is too much-"
"It's not. It helps him practice control. He's good at a distance. It's when exposed to blood that he… struggles."
Jeonghan finishes the bandage, taping it securely. Then he stays crouched in front of you, hands resting lightly on your knees. You meet his gaze. For once there’s no desire there. No teasing, no playing. Just him, steady and present.
"You're allowed to be afraid," he says after a moment. "You're not going to get demoted for it."
"Thank you," you whisper.
He smiles and it warms you. "Always, Amontillado. How about we get you home, hmm?"
Jeonghan doesn’t let go of you the entire walk to the car. His arm stays firm around your waist, supporting most of your weight. The driver is already waiting, engine idling. Jeonghan helps you into the back seat, careful of your arm, then slides in beside you. The door closes with a soft, final thud. The car pulls away from the curb, tires crunching over slush, and Manhattan begins to recede behind tinted windows.
You lean your head against the seat, eyes half-closed. The pain in your arm has dulled to a deep, throbbing ache under the makeshift bandage, but every bump in the road sends fresh sparks up your nerves. Jeonghan doesn’t speak. He just keeps his hand on your knee, thumb tracing slow, absent circles over the fabric of your skirt.
The drive to the Hamptons stretches long and quiet. Snow has begun falling again, fat flakes catching in the headlights. You watch them drift past, letting the rhythm of the road lull the worst of the adrenaline crash. Jeonghan’s presence beside you is steady heat against the winter chill seeping through the glass. When you shiver once, he shrugs out of his coat without a word and drapes it over your shoulders. It smells like jasmine and cedar - smells like him.
By the time the estate gates swing open, the sky is totally black. . Jeonghan helps you out of the car, arm around you again, and guides you up the wide front steps. The foyer is warm, lit low by gas sconces, the grandfather clock ticking its slow, familiar heartbeat. He leads you up the staircase, past your usual room, to one at the end he's never shown you before.
His room. You know it immediately by the smell of jasmine and cedar.
It’s darker than yours, walls paneled in deep walnut, heavy velvet curtains drawn against the windows. A fire is already burning low in the grate, casting long orange tongues across the floor. The bed is massive, draped in charcoal linens, but he doesn’t take you there. Instead he guides you to a low leather armchair beside the hearth and eases you down.
“Stay,” he murmurs, voice rougher than usual.
He disappears into the adjoining bath and returns with a medical kit that's larger and far more comprehensive than the one upstairs at the Red. He kneels in front of you again, but this time he's closer, the heat of him intoxicating.
He unwraps his work from earlier, careful not to tug. The fabric peels away with a wet sound that makes your stomach turn. The gashes are ugly and jagged now that you look. His jaw clenches so hard his teeth click together, and you look up at him. It isn't hunger that you see. It's rage, pure and black in his eyes, so violent you freeze.
Without speaking, he threads a curved needle with suture silk. You watch his hands, steady and elegant. He distracts you from the pain in your arm until he murmurs, "This will hurt."
"I know."
The first stitch pulls a sharp gasp from you. The needle bites, the thread pulling through an eerie feeling. You focus on breathing while he works, watching him with a fluttering heart. By the time he ties off the last knot and snips the thread, sweat beads on your forehead and your good hand is squeezing the arm rest.
Jeonghan sits back on his heels, studying his work. Fresh gauze, taped securely. He exhales through his nose, long and slow. When he looks up at you, his eyes are still that same unfathomable black, so full of rage that it pins you to the spot.
"If Soonyoung hadn't killed him, I would." Jeonghan's voice is so soft you almost don't hear him. "I know you getting hurt is sometimes an inevitability, but seeing it enrages me. More than I thought possible. I wasn't.. I didn't know I would be this angry."
You swallow. The fire pops behind him, throwing shadows across his face. He's beautiful. You're reminded of the first night you'd met him, his face half shadowed in the dark of the night. You'd thought he looked like an avenging angel then, beautiful but terrifying. He does now too, only this time, you're not afraid of him.
Not in the slightest.
“When I found you in that train car,” continues, voice like velvet, "curled between those barrels, half-frozen and heart hammering so loud I could nearly taste it… I saw myself. A small, stubborn thing that refused to die. That would claw and scrape and run until there was nowhere left to run. I liked that. Still do. More than I ought to, probably. More than what is wise."
He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, close enough that you can see the faint silver rim around his irises - not hunger, but something deeper. Something raw.
“The idea of anyone putting hands on you makes me see red. Especially him. Especially Vin." He swallows. “I’ve spent decades learning control. Decades pretending nothing touches me. And then you climb out of a window in the middle of winter and stumble into my world, and suddenly everything I thought I’d buried feels so close to the surface, Amontialldo. Closer than ever before. And I love it. Love that I feel again."
Your heart is loud in your ears. You study him, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair falls forward to shadow his eyes, the careful way he holds himself even now, like he’s afraid one wrong move will shatter something fragile between you.
All these weeks you’ve told yourself his touches were casual, his smiles habitual, his gaze only instinct. You’ve watched the silver flash in his eyes and labeled it hunger for blood, not for you. You’ve kept your own feelings folded small and secret, afraid that naming them would be a mistake.
You think of the first night in the cold metal train car, the jasmine scent hanging on his coat, the way he'd called you Amontillado like it was a private joke. The realization isn’t sudden. It’s slow, like ink spreading through water. You’ve been falling for him in pieces, like listening to him play piano right before you inevitably go to bed, like the way he likes to cook meals because it makes him think of being human. Of being alive.
“I like that you feel that way,” you admit, voice small. “I like that I matter to you. No one has ever cared before."
Jeonghan stills. The firelight catches in his eyes, turning them molten. For a long moment neither of you moves. Then, he reaches up slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. You don't, and he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. When you don't pull away still, he leans in.
The kiss is careful at first, almost tentative. His lips are cool, soft, tasting faintly of copper and winter air. You exhale against his mouth, surprised by how gentle he is, how restrained. Then you tilt your head, just a fraction, and something in him gives.
He deepens the kiss, slow and hungry in a way that has nothing to do with blood. His hand slides to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, holding you like if he lets go, you'll slip from his fingers. You reach for him with your good hand, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, feeling the steady, unnecessary beat of a heart that serves as nothing more than to pump blood that isn't his through his body.
When he pulls back, it’s only far enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath is cool against your lips. "I've wanted to do that for weeks. Since you started looking at me like I might be salvation instead of the damnation I have often felt like."
You laugh. "I still think you're both."
"Probably." His mouth twitches. "Are you alright? I don't want to push."
"I want you to."
A slow smile curves his mouth. It isn't the teasing that you're used to, but instead something softer. His eyes darken, the silver rim flaring briefly before he reins it in, that eternal hunger subdued for now. He leans in to brush his lips against your forehead, then your temple, trailing kisses down your jaw, tongue darting out to taste you. It feels so good, a shiver crawling up your spine.
"Good," he whispers, breath tickling your ear. "Because I've been patient for weeks, Amontillado. I've been watching you bloom in my world and it's been divine torture not having you."
You let out a quiet laugh, the sound breathy and a little shaky from the adrenaline still simmering in your veins. "Torture? For a vampire? I thought you were all about eternal suffering."
"I'm not Wonwoo."
He stands slowly, offering his hand to help you up. You take it, letting him guide you toward the bed. The room feels warmer now, the fire's glow casting long shadows that dance across the walls. He eases you down onto the edge of the mattress, then kneels again, this time between your knees. His hands rest on your thighs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles through your skirt. He looks up at you, eyes round, questioning.
"Go ahead," you breathe.
You lift your hips slightly as he slides the fabric up, exposing your legs inch by inch. The cool air hits your skin, contrasting with the heat building under your skin like a furnace. He drags his mouth across your knees, your thighs, pushing the fabric as he goes. When he reaches your panties, he hooks his fingers under the waistband, glancing up for confirmation. You nod, and he slides them down slowly, discarding them gently.
Your breath hitches as he parts your thighs wider, settling between them. He leans in to press a kiss to your inner thigh, then another higher up. His lips are cool, but the sensation ignites fire wherever they touch.
Carefully, he eases you to lay back on the bed. You're careful about your injured arm, letting it lay out to the side as the other twists in the sheets while his fingers come up to trace your folds, wet and warm. He finds your clit, circling it slowly as he watches your face, lips parted.
"Like that?" He asks when you make a little sound.
"God, yes."
The pressure is light at first, building gradually as he learns your rhythm. He dips lower, one finger sliding inside you with ease, the cool intrusion making you arch. He's so gentle, curling it just right to brush that spot that sends sparks behind your eyes.
It feels maddenly good, your lids fluttering as you writhe under the feeling. He pumps his finger slowly, fixing his mouth on your inner thigh, sucking your skin gently. You feel the scrape of his fangs, the heat of his mouth, the press of his fingers against your front wall and it makes you fall apart.
"Good girl," he praises as your hips cant toward his hand. "Take what you need."
Jeonghan adds a second finger, stretching you slowly. It feels good, your head pressing into the mattress as you arch into him. Your skirt bunches around your waist, shirt sticking to your sweaty skin as he works you, mouthing at the inside of your knee, whispering against your skin.
"Good girl," he whispers, letting out a little moan.
He pumps his fingers in and out at a languid pace, thumb still circling your clit, building the tension. You feel the tightening in your gut, toes curling, eyes squeezing shut as bursts of color pop behind your eyelids. You shiver again, muscles twitching.
"Jeonghan, I'm-"
"Let go. I've got you. Come for me, Amontillado."
His fingers curl deeper, and you shatter, clenching around him hard as you come. He doesn't stop, drawing it out until you're trembling, oversensitive and breathless.When you come down, he withdraws slowly, pressing a kiss to your thigh before he crawls up to hover over you, bracing on his elbows.
"Hi," he breathes.
"Hi.
He grins, dipping to kiss you deeply, hands active as he peels you out of your skirt, your top, your bra. He's so delicate with you, handling you like something precious, treasured. Not rough and impersonal like Vin - never like Vin.
Jeonghan leans up to peel his shirt off, his body sculpted and narrow. He deserves to be painted, captured in some half-shadowed light on canvas. An angel. A demon. You run your good hand over his chest and he shivers, capturing your hand in his to bring it up to his mouth, kissing the pads of your fingers.
"You're beautiful," you murmur.
"Not as much as you.
He lowers himself to kiss you again, trailing them from your lips down your neck, across your collarbone, to your breasts. His mouth closes over one nipple, sucking gently while his hand teases the other. It makes you arch, his name dripping from your mouth.
Jeonghan kisses lower, down your stomach, until he's settled between your thighs once more. His eyes meet yours as he leans in, tongue flicking out to trace your folds. The wet slide of his tongue parting you makes you moan, the sound broken and fractured. He grins and does it again, pupils blown out, never leaving yours.
He takes his time, lapping slowly, savoring every reaction. When he focuses on your clit, sucking gently, you thread your fingers into his hair, holding him close. He hums, pleased at the feeling of your fingers tightening, nails scraping against his sensitive scalp. His tongue circles your puffy clit until you're climbing again, hips coming off the bed.
It makes him growl a little. He doubles down, sucking harder, mouth greedy and reverent, the sound of his mouth unholy against you. You come undone a second time, crying out sharply as he pins your thighs open, licking you through it with broad, lazy strokes of his tongue until you're spent.
Climbing back up, he kisses you softly, sharing the taste of you. His hands roam your body, soothing, worshipping. He sheds the rest of his clothes, and you take in the sight of him, hard and swollen and leaking. You reach for him but he shakes his head, lowering himself until he's nose to nose with you, eye lashes fluttering against yours.
"You sure?" He asks.
A choice. Again. Always a choice - your choice.
"Please," you murmur, pulling him closer.
Jeonghan nods, rolling his hips to slide his cock through your messy folds, both of you breathing hard. He slides a hand between you, pressing on the head of his cock until it presses against your entrance. You let out a strangled sound and he grins, sliding into you slow and torturous. He groans, burying his face in your neck.
"Fuck," he rasps. "Feels so good. Smell so good." His tongue darts out to lick at your pulse and you roll your head to the side, giving him access. "Not tonight. Maybe one day."
Jeonghan starts to move then, slow and deep, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. You can barely breath, the feeling of him sliding home so good that you scratch at his lower back with your good hand, pressing him closer, breaths shaky.
"That's it," he pants. "You take me so well. So beautiful like this." His hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts. One more for me. Let me feel you come around me."
His thrusts deepen, slow and grinding, hitting that spot relentlessly. He's pressed close to you, chest sliding against chest, your legs wrapping around his hips. It drives you mad, having him this close to you. His mouth catches yours, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he works you to another high, the slide of your tongues broken only by desperate sounds.
Jeonghan nods when he hears your sounds, spurred on. He rolls his hips in a slow, deliberate glide that drags the length of his cock through your cunt, your walls fluttering around him. His mouth finds yours again, messy and desperate, tongues tangling in time with the slow roll of his hips. You taste salt and yourself and something faintly metallic.
He shifts his angle just enough that the head of his cock drags perfectly over that spot inside you with every pass. Your back arches off the mattress, a broken cry muffled against his lips. He drinks it down, swallowing every sound you make.
“Feel that?” he whispers when he pulls back just enough to speak. “Right there. That’s where you need me, isn’t it?” He punctuates the question with another deep, grinding thrust that makes stars burst behind your eyelids.
When you come again, it's with Jeonghan's name on your tongue. He drinks it down, mouth pressed to yourself, breathing in time. He follows moments later, thrusting deep one last time and stilling, a low groan escaping as he spills inside you. He stays there for a moment, your chests pressed together, your heart pounding.
Jeonghan shifts carefully, easing out of you gently. He doesn’t pull away far - only enough to reach for the discarded blanket at the foot of the bed and draw it up over both of you. The heavy wool settles, trapping the shared warmth of your skin together.
He gathers you against him without a word, turning so you’re tucked into the curve of his chest, your bandaged arm resting carefully across his waist. His chin settles atop your head, one hand splaying wide over the small of your back while the other threads lazily through your hair. The motion is slow, meditative, each pass of his fingers grounding you.
For a long moment neither of you speaks. Outside, the snow continues to fall in thick, silent sheets, hissing against the window as it melts. You trace idle patterns on his chest with your fingertips, following the faint ridge of a scar.
"How'd you get this?" You ask.
"Before I was turned," he murmurs. "Turning heals the body, but it also freezes you. I like it, though. Makes me feel more alive."
You press your lips to the scar in silent acknowledgment. “I like it."
He stills for a heartbeat, then tilts your chin up so he can look at you properly. In the dim light his eyes are dark velvet. “I’ve lived a very long time,” he says quietly. “Seen empires rise and fall, watched people I cared for age and die while I stayed the same. I thought I’d forgotten how to want anything beyond survival and control. Thank you for reminding me what it's like to want something."
You grin. "I made it a lot farther than three blocks, didn't I?"
"You did," he sighs. "My brave little Amontillado."
› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader
› aus: dilf jeonghan, boyfriend jeonghan, jeonghan is a girl dad
› genres: angst, fluff, smut (18+)
› word count: 23k
READ PART ONE HERE
› warnings: toxic family dynamics: jeonghan's ex is a bad person in general (a neglectful parent), talks about speech therapy, speech impediment. jeonghan is an idiot. reader is emotionally constipated. so there's A LOT OF drama.
› smut warnings: smut with plot (this part has more plot than the previous one, you're warned), they're both crazy for each other, dirty talk, pussy eating, jeonghan is pussy drunk, quickies, make up sex, breeding kink, cowgirl, daddy kink, edging, bathroom sex, silence play, unprotected p in v sex (i'm such a bad influence, wrap it up!), creampies, mating press, yn is slightly 🤏🏻 bratty, dom jeonghan, aftercare. pet names: babe, baby, beautiful, darling, sweetheart, (hers) babe, daddy (his)
› author's note: hiiii! i'm here to say thank you guys for the support in the pineapple on pizza? post! it was really nice to see that so many of you enjoyed it, so here is a part two! honestly i enjoyed writing dilf!hannie quite a lot and couldn't get him out of my brain for months so here it is, a part two lol. and this chapter is looooong, so buckle in!
also another note: this is incredibly self indulgent. like everything i write. but i think this one takes the cake.
› disclaimer: minors DO NOT INTERACT. this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your blog description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂
“Have you seen my keys?”
Morning routines were always a mess. Something different happened every time, and somehow, even though you’ve done this more than a dozen times, it was still hard to catch up.
But you were getting the hang of it.
The apartment was a controlled chaos, as you liked calling it. The air smelled of coffee and the soft fragrance that Jeonghan wore to work. Repetition was starting to have its effect as you began to associate your mornings with those two scents.
“Have you tried looking under the couch?” you asked, turning around with a small bowl in your hands. You placed it carefully on the small tabletop of Sohee’s booster seat and watched quietly as she sank her little spoon into her bowl of cereal and milk.
“I should’ve added more milk,” you mumbled, biting on the inside of your cheek.
The little girl didn’t seem to notice, though. She ate happily, kicking her feet in the air and clapping her tiny hands together as she chewed, milk dripping from the corners of her pouty mouth.
You heard a sigh, and then the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall, and you lifted your head.
Jeonghan was still buttoning his perfectly ironed shirt, his hands going lower and lower, distracting you from your initial task. You felt your lips parting before forcing any kind of control onto your facial expression. His black trousers were also yet to be fixed, but as he finished buttoning his shirt, he tucked it inside his pants, quickly fastening his belt.
You lowered your gaze to the little girl slamming her palms onto the tabletop. Sohee was dancing happily. And you were glad that you had zero witnesses to your ogling your boyfriend quite shamelessly.
You brushed crumbs off the table, picked up the empty bowl and put it away. “Alright,” you said with a sigh, pretending to be deeply focused on the morning routine. “Did you find them?”
When you looked up, you found that Jeonghan had also been staring. His eyes were trained on the scene happening before him. His mouth parted, and he appeared to be confused for a split second—giving himself a very brief shake. “Yeah,” he smiled shyly and patted the pocket of his trousers. “Under the bed.”
“Huh,” you grinned. “How could they have gotten there?” you asked, innocently tilting your head.
Jeonghan sighed. The smile was still glued to his face, but it slowly brushed off as he raised his wrist to his face, looking at his watch. “I’m late,” he said, delivering the words with an annoyed edge in his tone. “Fuck. I’m so late,” he added, turning around to grab the jacket that had been previously placed on the couch.
Panic rushed in your veins. It was a big day for Jeonghan at his work—he had a big meeting in which it was certain that he would get some good news about a project that he had proposed for the company he worked for. You knew what this meant for him.
You looked at the time. His shift started earlier than yours did, and with another twist to your stomach, you knew that he wouldn’t be able to drop Sohee off at the daycare and then make it on time to his meeting.
“Go. I’ll drop Sohee at daycare,” you blurted right as he was throwing Sohee’s things into her bag.
His gaze snapped up and locked onto your face. The shock was flitting, but you were able to catch it before he blinked and parted his mouth to say something.
But you were quicker— “Here. Take my car and I’ll take yours so I can put Sohee in her car seat. We can switch later,” you said, stumbling over your words as you fished your car keys from the pocket of your smart trousers, handing them to him.
Jeonghan straightened, fixing the wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose—you always went a little crazy when he did that—but this time he placed his hands on his hips, his face thoughtful, calculating. “Are you sure? I don’t want to cause an inconvenience with—”
“Babe, you’re not causing anything,” you insisted, thrusting your fist holding the keys into the space between you and him. “Take my car. Go to your meeting. I’ve got Sohee.”
At that, Jeonghan’s face relaxed, starting to approach you with a softened look on his face—like he could melt just at the sight of you. He took the keys from your hand. “You’re godsent, did you know that?” he asked, his tone low as he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to his body.
“I’m just here to help,” you said lightly, meeting his gaze as he bent his head to meet your lips with his own.
Jeonghan gave you one feathery kiss. “Thank you, baby,” he whispered, pushing his lips on yours again. “Be careful, okay? Call me if anything happens.”
You smiled against his lips. “I got this,” you repeated in a sweeter tone.
Part of you was sure that Jeonghan knew this as well. But Sohee was his entire world. And he was quite literally leaving her in your hands.
And you were unsure as to what to think about it.
Jeonghan turned, peeling himself from your lips with a begrudged groan and placed a kiss on top of Sohee’s head. “Goodbye, sweetheart,” he cooed gently.
Your tummy twisted again. This time, the reaction was from the way Jeonghan switched into dad mode in the blink of an eye. The switch from hot boyfriend to diligent father never failed to mess with you.
Sohee lifted her head, her eyes looking at her dad, but she didn’t respond.
“Be good today, okay? Eat all of your meals and try not to miss me too much,” Jeonghan insisted, trying to get her to utter something. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Byeee,” he cooed again.
But Sohee kept looking at her father fixedly.
“Sweetheart, say bye,” Jeonghan encouraged Sohee again, this time lower but still gentle.
“Maybe she’s not feeling it today, babe,” you muttered behind him.
A few weeks ago, Jeonghan confided in you that he started to notice that Sohee often froze at the moment of speaking full sentences. Initially, he had brushed it off, thinking that his daughter was innately shy, just like himself. But as months passed by and she continued developing other social skills, he began to believe that it was something else.
“Right,” Jeonghan mumbled, not hiding the slight look of worry on his face. But he leaned and propped another kiss on her forehead before stepping back. He kissed you on the cheek, handing you the keys to his car.
“Good luck,” you mumbled, and he replied with a quick nod. You and Sohee watched quietly as Jeonghan slipped through the door.
As soon as the door clicked shut, you realized what you had gotten yourself into. It was supposed to be a simple task, yes. But it had a thousand layers of meaning beneath it. Taking Sohee to daycare was something you could do every day, gladly—but something felt off.
Like you were starting to cross a line, and neither Jeonghan nor you knew how to talk about it.
Taking Sohee to her daycare was one thing—driving Jeonghan’s SUV was another.
It wasn’t a particularly daring task either, but it also put your nerves on edge. After fixing Sohee’s daycare bag and your own stuff, you grabbed her first, hoisting her up your hip, and then you swung your bag and Sohee’s on your shoulder.
“Ready to see your friends today, Sohee?” you asked, raising your tone into a sweet one. It felt practiced, and you remembered the first few times you ever did it—how it made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. But after a time, you could say that you understood why people would talk in a cute way to kids, it came naturally.
“Yeah,” Sohee replied, the word landing almost aloofly. Like you had just caught her in a moment where she didn’t find any barriers for her to speak.
You pushed the button of the elevator and slowly moved your head to look at her.
Sohee was a perfect little girl of almost three years of age. When you met her over half a year ago, you were sure you were holding a little angel. She was gentle and sweet. Her head was full of dark hair that matched her long eyelashes, just like her father’s.
“Oh, yeah? What are their names?” you asked, eyeing her as you stepped into the elevator with her still attached to your hip.
“Dany,” she mumbled perfectly, raising her tone as though she were about to make a list of names.
“Dany? Okay, and who else?”
“Nora,” she said, quieter this time.
The elevator paused on its way down, opening the doors for another person to step in. You knew the conversation was over.
Sohee fell silent, lowering her gaze from you and fixing it on one point on your shirt. You realized after a few seconds that she was staring at your hand, at your painted fingernails. What made you certain was the way she raised her hands to her gaze, comparing her fingernails to your own.
Something twisted inside you, the idea of her and you doing each other’s nails dawned in your head. And you knew what that pang in your stomach was—possibility. You were thinking of the future.
“Here we go,” you mumbled as you approached Jeonghan’s navy blue Kia Seltos. The fresh smell of new and clean leather still lingered inside it as you opened the door and put Sohee in her chair.
She never complained, just quietly sat on the chair and looked at you as you fixed the buckle of her safety belt.
“Safety first,” you said, trying to fill in the silence. You grabbed one of the toys from the toy basket sitting beneath her seat and showed it to her. “Look, it’s Rory!” you cried dramatically, showing her the dinosaur plushie that you knew she loved.
Sohee extended her arms and made grabby hands at the green and very cute T. rex. She didn’t speak again, no matter how hard you tried to get her to say something.
The parking lot was buzzing with activity, cars coming and going, hustling parents coming in and out of the building, dropping their kids off—and you for sure felt like a fish out of water, but you didn’t want to entertain the thought for too long. You signed Sohee in without an issue—the staff mentioned that as you were dropping Sohee off, Jeonghan had phoned them to let them know you were coming in his stead.
You soothed Sohee’s hair and gave her a quick kiss on her head as she scrunched her fingers on your back, almost affectionately. “You be good, sweetie,” you said before leaving her and turning to the parking lot, feeling strangely empty when you climbed inside the SUV.
You carried out work as usual. You didn’t think about the odd feeling clawing at your heart for the rest of the morning. The second the clock hit one o’clock, your phone started vibrating, snapping you out of your monitor screen. You scrambled to get your phone, only to see Jeonghan’s face on the screen.
“Hello?” you responded with a hushed tone, looking over to see if you had interrupted the workflow in the office. But you realized the space was nearly empty, and everyone had left for lunch.
“Am I interrupting?” Jeonghan noticed immediately by your tone alone.
“No. I just didn’t look at the time,” you told him, pushing yourself off the chair and walking in the direction of the elevator.
“Oh, I see. Is this still a good time to speak with you?” he asked.
You smirked at his choice of words. “I don’t know, you tell me. Is this a good time for you?” you retorted, noticing that he was also in his cubicle.
“You got me,” he said, and you could imagine the shy smile on his face. “I’m stepping outside, hold on.”
You pushed the button to the elevator and waited while on the other side of the line, you heard Jeonghan moving.
“Okay, I’m out,” he said with a sigh. “Are you going to the food court?” he asked.
Jeonghan knew your schedule well, and he was also very familiar with your routine since you always kept him in the loop of the things you did. When you started dating, you would quite practically narrate to him your daily life through text messages, to the point that he knew all of your co-workers by name without knowing them in person.
“Yes,” you replied, stepping out of the elevator.
“Chicken salad?” he asked with a low tone, making you think that he probably had some co-worker passed him by.
“Oh, I think I’m moving on from that,” you told him. “I want a burrito. A chicken burrito.”
“Oof, how different,” he teased.
“Let me be,” you bit back and then frowned, suspecting something was off.
“I will. But I’m going to tease you about it either way,” he said with a brief laugh. “How is work going?”
“Fine,” you replied simply. But it was then that you dared to ask, “Is something going on, babe? You’re never this weird.”
Jeonghan sighed, and you knew he was smiling. “Am I being that obvious?” he said, and then, before you could say something, he continued. “I just wanted to tell you to come tonight and have dinner with Sohee and me.”
“Mmn, why do I feel like this could’ve been a text,” you said as you sat down at an empty table that was cluttered with a tray and a single French fry sitting on its box.
He laughed. “I am trying to get somewhere here,” he said.
“You’re taking a lot of detours!” you laughed with him. “Of course, babe. You know I love having dinner with you and Sohee.”
“Good. Great,” he mumbled, and something about the dejected way his words came out made your ears perk.
A long moment of silence happened between you, where you could hear the sound of his breathing and nothing else. Your gaze fell out of focus, landing on a single grain of salt on the dirty table in the very crowded food court.
“Is everything alright, babe?” you asked, your tone lower. “Did the meeting go well?”
“Yeah. It’s not that. I want—” he cut himself off, but then, “I want us to talk,” he said.
Your heart fell to your stomach, the feeling so impactful that it left you completely stunned. There was nothing in the world that could replace the feeling you’d get when you heard the words we need to talk, and all of its variations.
“Oh, then—t-that changes things,” you mumbled awkwardly, not forgoing that he ignored your initial question.
“Wait, no,” he started, noticing the tension in your words. “It’s nothing bad.”
“Okay,” you said under a heavy sigh. “Then tell me now,” you said.
“I’d rather wait until tonight—”
“Did I do something wrong?” you asked instead. And perhaps you could’ve controlled yourself better, but you were fully induced in anxiety now.
“No. I swear it’s nothing bad,” he told you firmly. “It’s something I have been wanting to ask you.”
You started toying with the lonely grain of salt with the tip of your finger. “If it really is nothing bad, then you could ask me now,” you said, fully aware of how shaky your tone was.
“Are you sure?” he asked slowly, stretching out each word.
“Very.”
Jeonghan sighed and then paused. You could picture him clearly—standing on the balcony of the building where he worked, looking very polished on the outside but probably tense, judging by his tone alone.
“I was just thinking that we’re always so busy, you with work and me with—well, with everything and…” You heard him pause, and then release a sigh, and that’s how you knew he was also steadying himself. “I wanted to know if you would like to move in with us. With Sohee and me.”
In all of the things you could’ve possibly imagined him saying, this wasn’t one of them. You straightened in your seat as a chill ran down your spine. “Jeonghan, are you serious?” you asked, unable to control how firm you sounded.
“I don’t mean now, but sometime in the future. We can plan and see how things go from there,” he offered, and he sounded steady, but you could notice the slight edge of nervousness in it.
The feeling invading your body made you feel as if you had been dropped from a very tall building.
“Babe…” you started, looking for the words to say.
“It’s okay if you want to say no,” he said. “I just wanted to talk about it with you tonight over dinner.”
You closed your eyes, swallowing hard. “I’m not saying no,” you told him.
“You’re not saying yes either,” he sighed in defeat. “I’m rushing into things.”
Your chest caved in. You wanted to say yes, you wanted this. But there were so many things that you thought needed to happen before you moved in with him and his daughter. In your book, things like the first I love you had to happen before sharing a roof with that person. Or at least knowing them for a full year.
Oh, and the judgment. Your friends already thought you were insane for dating a single parent, and now you were moving in with him eight months after meeting him? Not only that, your whole life had taken a turn when you started dating Jeonghan—to the point that the person you were a year ago wouldn’t recognize the person you were now.
“Can we talk about it tonight over dinner?” you asked, your tone tiny.
“Of course. We can talk about it more calmly,” he said, and you couldn’t ignore the note of sadness in his words. “I get it, baby. I should’ve waited. I’m sorry.”
“No, Jeonghan. You did nothing wrong,” you said, but then something felt off.
“Listen, I have to go back. See you tonight?” he asked, and you caught the way his tone picked up. Something had come up.
You deflated completely. “See you tonight, Jeonghan.”
And then something hung in the air. An unspoken thing between you, something that needed to be said.
Your heart started to hope.
But then the line went dead.
There was a thought that you couldn’t quite keep away. When you met Jeonghan, you instantly knew this man was for you—every bone, every nerve ending in your body told you that. Then, when you knew he was a single father, you knew that a relationship with him would be challenging. But it turned out to be easier than expected.
However, things started to shift from the first night you and he took things to the next level. Spending the night in his bed was a very conscious decision you both made. You were both ready, and truth be told, aching for each other. What you didn’t foresee was that you were climbing those steps into a serious relationship without paying attention to how fast and how uncontrolled you were.
Now, it felt as though you were in too deep, but there were no rules or boundaries in place.
You gnawed on your lower lip, debating whether to write him a text telling him that you knew he meant well by his proposition.
Instead, you got up and went to the nearest convenience store, got a sandwich, and ate half of it on the elevator ride back to your office.
The rest of your shift happened in a blink. Thankfully, you were so busy that the aftermath of that call with Jeonghan was pushed to the second plane of your brain. You would sometimes remember it with a jolt in your stomach. And he also didn’t text you afterwards, which meant that he was also probably busy—or that’s what you wanted to believe anyway.
You came out of the office some four hours after the phone call, scrambling inside your handbag to get your car keys.
Your phone started vibrating furiously somewhere in one of the many pockets, your heart deflating stressfully in the thought that it could possibly be Jeonghan. A flashing thought drove that anxiousness right into your soul, telling you that he would be telling you that tonight’s plans were off.
But it was an unknown caller. And you picked up solely on the thought that it would be a work-related thing.
“Yes?” you said, putting your bag on top of the trunk of your car.
The caller was a woman with a very polite tone, asking for you using your full name.
“This is her,” you replied almost routinely.
“Hi! This is Katy from the Speech and Learning Center. Am I speaking to Sohee’s mother?”
“Oh—” you gasped, leaving the task of finding your keys completely abandoned due to the sheer shock that question gave you. “No. I’m her father’s partner. Is something wrong?”
“Oh, no. Everything is fine. I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Katy responded kindly. “We have you on Sohee’s file as the emergency contact in case her father doesn’t answer, and we’ve tried him three times just now, but no answer. Are you able to make choices about her appointments with us?”
“God,” you mouthed to yourself, screwing your eyes shut. “Um, Sohee’s birthday is on Friday, so Thursday would probably be better,” you responded automatically, and then you stopped yourself with a shake. “But I think you should try her father again.”
But then you remembered—Jeonghan had mentioned a very important meeting, the one where his boss would determine whether he had the promotion or not.
“I believe he was in a meeting. Maybe you should try in…” you checked your watch. “Twenty minutes. He should be off by then.”
“Understood. I will call him instead. Well, I thank you for picking up this call and wish you a good rest of your day. Bye!”
“Thanks. You too,” you replied shakily.
And then she hung up.
The drive to Jeonghan’s apartment felt like an out-of-body experience. You felt yourself driving, but at the same time, your mind was somewhere else. After being hit with two reality checks, one after another, you were reconsidering what to do, what to say to Jeonghan once you saw him.
He had assigned you as Sohee’s emergency contact. Not her grandmother, not her aunt. And certainly not her mother. You.
It shouldn’t be a big deal—maybe you were making it into a big deal. But after Jeonghan had told you he wanted you to move in with him and his daughter, this just felt like too much.
You turned the doorknob of his apartment door as you released a shaky sigh, trying to drive out all your nervousness. But as you entered and laid eyes on him, you knew it would be impossible not to be nervous for the remainder of the night.
Jeonghan was sitting on the couch, baby Sohee sitting safely on his thigh as he held a triceratops in one hand, making it clash gently against Sohee’s brontosaurus. His gaze immediately switched to the door as you crossed it. Then tension set in, making the features of his face harden.
And you probably were mirroring that same expression. You closed the door behind you quietly and removed your shoes by the entrance.
Jeonghan placed Sohee on the couch carefully as you walked to the living room, feeling strange.
“Hey,” he said, reading your face with his eyes.
Your heart was racing incredibly fast. “Hi,” you replied.
“I got it,” he said with a big sigh.
Understanding dawned on you with a blink. “You got promoted?”
He nodded, but his expression was still blank.
“Oh my god!” you gasped, thinking that the tension in his demeanor was due to the call from earlier. “Congratulations!” you said excitedly, going for a hug.
Jeonghan didn’t appear to be happy, not precisely. But he wrapped your torso in his arms, hugging you tightly. “Thank you, baby,” he sighed, sinking his face into the crook of your neck.
Then you felt a pair of tiny hands palming your leg intuitively. You pulled away from Jeonghan’s arms, looking down to spot Sohee trying to get your attention.
“I think she’s feeling left out,” Jeonghan interpreted keenly.
“Oh, my bad,” you giggled and bent down to hug her. “Come here, princess,” you spoke softly to her as you lifted her in your arms.
“Look,” Sohee said quietly, showing you a new dinosaur toy.
“Wow, what is this?” you asked her, your tone turning into honey.
“Saurus,” she mumbled shyly, still showing you her dinosaur figurine.
“A stegosaurus,” Jeonghan informed you quietly as he watched you carry Sohee in your arms. And there was that look again. The one you had seen in the morning. He was watching intently, calmly—like he wanted to remember this moment forever without missing a thing.
“This is so cool,” you told her, still using that tone. “Is this the one you liked the most?” you asked her.
She listened to you intently, but her gaze was fixed on her figurine. She shook her head.
“Show her your favorite one, sweetheart,” Jeonghan said as you placed her back on the floor.
She ran back to the couch, grabbed the forgotten dinosaur and brought it back to you. You crouched to be at eye level with her as she showed you a new Triceratops.
“Did you just get these?” you asked her sweetly, your tummy twisting in cuteness aggression as she just nodded, ruffling her black hair.
“It was one of her birthday gifts. I thought that it would be safe to keep them stashed in my closet, but I guess that I should’ve known better,” he said guiltily, crouching with you as Sohee went on to show you her new collection of dinosaur toys.
“You’re a very observant girl, aren’t you?” you asked her, to which she ignored completely.
You could feel Jeonghan beside you, his gaze set on you as you continued your silent exchange with Sohee. After some seconds of feeling the weight of his gaze on you, you glanced to his direction.
“Can we talk?” he whispered as soon as he caught your eye.
You nodded, tummy twisting uneasily.
Jeonghan opened and then closed the fridge in one short motion. He placed his empty hands on his hips as he released a sigh. You noticed then that he was anxious. “Sohee’s mother is coming to town.”
You froze in place.
Of course. You should’ve expected her to be for her daughter’s birthday. But part of you was also completely vexed about this piece of information—since you had believed for a moment that Jeonghan wanted to talk about the proposal he’d made earlier. But Sohee’s mother rarely called, to the point that in the eight months you’ve been dating Jeonghan, you had never even seen her in person.
“Oh, I see,” you said, swallowing hard. And then you added quite awkwardly: “Is she… did you… Did she call to see what you would do for Sohee’s birthday?”
Jeonghan understood where your curiosity came from. But he was still looking at you wearily, just like all the times he talked to you about a difficult thing in his life. Like the time he told you about his daughter, or the time he told you about Sohee’s absent mother.
It made your stomach churn.
And you knew what it was. It was selfishness.
“No. I called her,” he said. You knew that he was telling you the truth, and in doing so, he was nervous. “Sohee’s birthday is one of the few times I can get her mother to come see her, so…”
“I understand,” you said, resuming to set the table with the tablecloth and the dishware. “Do you… want me here that day?”
“Of course I do,” he said. You glanced his way, seeing his worried face—his eyebrows knitting softly. “Do you want to be here?”
“As long as you are comfortable with it, yes,” you said, and then added: “I just don’t want to complicate things.”
Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Believe me, things can’t get more complicated with her. Soomin is just…” he shook his head lightly. “Well, you’ll see.”
You exhaled sharply. “Okay… no pressure,” you mumbled.
All you knew about Soomin was that she was not present in Sohee and Jeonghan’s lives from the moment Sohee turned eight months old. Her reason for parting and leaving everything behind was simply—I don’t want this life—and one day she packed her bags and left. Some months later, Jeonghan asked her for full custody of the baby, receiving it without any fight from her.
“Is she coming the day of?” you asked.
“On Thursday afternoon, after Sohee’s therapy,” he said. And then you noticed that the anxiety hadn’t quite brushed off. “I want you to meet her that day. That way we can have the party without any issues, if any.”
You raised your eyebrows, watching him from the other side of the table. “That bad?”
He nodded silently, throwing a look to the living room, where Sohee was dancing around to the music playing on the TV screen. “I just don’t want her to make a scene on Sohee’s birthday, you know? It’s supposed to be her day.”
The tension in your shoulders dissolved when you turned over your shoulder and saw baby Sohee bending her knees to the rhythm of the music, her tiny hands planted on the sofa to keep herself steady as she danced happily. Your stomach twisted with the realization that you loved Sohee in a way that you wanted to protect her, care for her.
You had gotten irrevocably attached.
You took a deep breath, slowly turning to see Jeonghan. “Don’t worry, babe,” you told him, smiling at him as you approached him again. “We’ll make Sohee’s day just about her, alright?” you said, pushing yourself to your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Jeonghan smiled softly. “Alright,” he said.
You stared at that smile on his face for one long second, and slowly, the memory of the phone call from earlier came back to your mind. Your heart faltered. You carefully thought of how to open the conversation, but nerves got the better of you first— “About earlier…” you said in a whisper, pausing to clear your throat. “Were you serious? About me moving in?”
Jeonghan inhaled slowly, blinking away from your face briefly, glancing to where his daughter was in the living room. “We don’t have to rush,” he said, licking his lips before turning his gaze back to you. “It’s a big step, but it makes sense, right? I mean, you’re already here all the time…”
You studied him for a brief moment. You were hearing him, but all you could think about was the way his shoulders were tight, the way he was gripping the back of the chair with one hand. And more than everything else—the way he wasn’t meeting your eyes.
“It feels fast, Jeonghan,” you said carefully.
“It feels right,” he countered, taking one step towards you. His face had changed now that you could see him with more closeness—his dark eyes were full of certainty, full of tenderness. “I want you here. With us. You’re already here all the time, you do morning routines with us, put her in bed, and drop-offs…”
Your chest tightened. Something felt off. And then by pure instinct, you glanced at Sohee. The baby had stopped moving, her gaze fixed on the flat screen mounted on the wall, sticking her index finger in her mouth quite aloofly.
But the sight of her made your tummy twist even harder. It was the realization hitting you like a train. If you lost this—if Jeonghan and you ever get to a point where you split, you would lose Sohee as well. The mere thought threatened to break your heart.
His gaze shifted—and without following it, you knew that he was looking at Sohee. “I’m just… scared of doing this wrong way, you know?”
You reached for his face, cupping it with your hands to draw his gaze back to you again. “Then we should slow down,” you said, your heart protesting against your words with a stabbing pain. “Just a little.”
He swallowed hard. “Okay,” he breathed.
“Yeah?” you replied in kind. “We slow down for just a little while. We could talk about it again when the timing feels right.”
Jeonghan grabbed one of your wrists, squeezing it gently. He looked relieved, so much so that the next sigh he let out was slow as he leaned his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry. The last thing I want is to rush you,” he whispered.
“It’s okay,” you replied, despite your heart deflating a little. “I understand. Just know that I’m not saying no. Okay?” you said, raising your tone just a little bit higher, trying to swallow your nerves.
“Okay,” Jeonghan replied with a breathy giggle, hearing your nervous tone.
You felt his lips grazing yours before he kissed you fully. It was then that you felt those three littlewords sitting on the tip of your tongue. You were falling for him, fast and uncontrollably. But instead of telling him that, you pushed your lips against his, kissing him fervently.
But then a sharp, and very high-pitched laugh pulled you both apart. Baby Sohee was laughing at something happening on the TV. You broke away and stepped back from Jeonghan.
“I’ll… bring her to her chair so she can have dinner,” Jeonghan said. And by the look in his eyes, you knew that there was something else on his mind.
You let out a tired breath. “What a Monday,” you sighed.
“Welcome to my life,” Jeonghan replied.
After dinner, Jeonghan started to ready Sohee for bed, and that usually involved a bath, brushing teeth and then bed. It took him around thirty or forty minutes. And in that time, you usually took it upon yourself to tidy the space up. Initially, you had started doing it to kill the time while waiting for Jeonghan to come back—despite his insistence for you not to do it—but lately, it felt like it was part of your routine too.
You had put all of Sohee’s toys in the basket, folded the blankets and were now doing the dishes. The task had fallen into a steady rhythm, and so you were deeply focused on washing a pan when a pair of arms snaked around your waist, startling you.
“Stay the night,” Jeonghan said, his tone low as he bent his head to rest it on your shoulder.
Your tummy twisted.
Ever since you slept with Jeonghan for the first time, you had fallen into a pattern of addiction. You would stay over at every chance you could get, which, granted, weren’t as many since you had a very hectic work schedule as a CEO Assistant and he as a single parent, and now newly ascended to Director. But even as you had finally stepped to that level of intimacy, it was life that constantly would get in the way. It wasn’t as easy to find a time for you to come to his apartment, and it would be nearly impossible for Jeonghan to spend the night at yours.
You felt his lips grazing a particular tender spot on the crook of your neck. “Hannie,” you sighed, recoiling from his sweet kisses.
“What?” he mumbled against your skin, you could tell from his tone that he was smiling. But he didn’t stop kissing your neck slowly.
You swore you could melt. When you took too long to respond, he giggled gently against your skin.
“Want me to stop?”
You had already scrubbed every inch of the pan you were holding under the stream of water; the task had been long forgotten. “No, I want you to let me finish doing the dishes,” you replied with a playful tone.
“Alright, my bad,” he said, stepping back from you and starting to put things away in the kitchen.
You watched him through the corner of your eye as he roamed all over the space. Feeling the absence of his touch on your skin made you swallow hard. “I didn’t say you had to stop,” you mumbled, feeling hot on the cheeks.
Jeonghan huffed, clearly still amused. “Baby, we’ve been going like this for weeks,” he said pointedly, then chuckled as he threw a look at your face, finding your pout.
Since the night when you slept with Jeonghan for the first time, you have had very few occasions of true intimacy. However, that didn’t stop Jeonghan from teasing you, touching you in places he hadn’t dared before that night, but now he did it at every chance he could get when no one else was looking.
It got you nervous. You liked him too much. Every time he touched you intimately, your mind would be thrown back to those nights where it was just you and Jeonghan. It made your blood dance, heating your entire body.
Only Jeonghan had that power.
You placed the last item on the drying rack and grabbed the hand towel, drying your hands before returning it to its place. “Fine, I’m done doing the dishes,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “Where were we?”
Jeonghan let out a teasing huff. “You’re cute,” he said with a chuckle.
“You’re a tease,” you bit back, trying to sound as annoyed as you could, but instead your tone denoted how flustered you already were.
Jeonghan rolled his eyes at you, the smirk not washing off his face. “So? Are you staying or not?” he asked, his tone still playful.
“Only if you behave,” you said impishly.
Jeonghan raised his eyebrows, stepping closer to you. “Me?” he asked, his tone rising. He was close enough now that all he had to do was lift his hand to cup your face, fixing your gaze on him. “All I do is what you tell me, baby,” he said, his tone so low and raspy it was almost like a purr.
“So whenever you misbehave, is it because I told you to?” you huffed, not caring that his face was closer to yours now.
He smirked slowly as his eyes outlined your face. “Obviously,” he shrugged lightly. He finally closed the space between your lips and his, kissing you tenderly. “I always behave. While you, on the other hand…”
He didn’t finish his sentence, his gaze dipping to look at your lips briefly before he kissed you again. You smiled into the kiss, despite it being chaste in the way that he was only pressing his lips to yours repeatedly, creating soft, wet noises that only incited you to get more.
“Babe,” you muttered, laughing sweetly. “Kiss me properly,” you told him.
Jeonghan didn’t waste a second. Repositioning his hands around your face, he only leaned in, locking his lips with yours. His kiss was soft, but slow, wet, and so full of heat. You closed your eyes and let him dominate the kiss, parting your mouth when you felt the tip of his tongue swipe your bottom lip, and then you felt his tongue against yours.
Your legs tensed as an automatic response, a shot of arousal coursing through you like lightning. His hands switched from cupping your cheeks to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. That made a silent moan bubble in your mouth, so you grabbed him by the belt in his jeans, pulling him closer to you.
Jeonghan grunted in your mouth and then pushed you to the kitchen counter by simply taking two steps forward, making you take two steps back. His lips took yours with more vehemency now, kissing you deeply, with a very unique urgency. It made you lose control, it made you feel hot all over.
So you pulled back, but not far. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” you said breathily, running a hand over his clothed chest.
Jeonghan smiled, making you think that he’d say something about your nervousness again. But he grabbed your hand, “Alright,” he said, and then he pulled you in the direction of his bedroom.
Whenever you stayed the night, you would wear Jeonghan’s clothes—mostly oversized t-shirts and sometimes sporty shorts. So much so that you’d noticed Jeonghan kept the clothes he’d lent you in a particular spot in his closet, making you suspect that he probably had stopped wearing them, only to keep them clean in case you came to stay the night.
Your gut twisted when Jeonghan pulled the same oversized t-shirt and handed it to you. “You know, you could bring some stuff in. I’ll empty a drawer for you,” he mumbled, turning on the bedside lamp.
He always said something akin to those words whenever he had the opportunity. It reminded you of his other request—of moving in. “Yeah, I’ll bring some spare pyjamas,” you replied nervously, turning on your feet to start unbuttoning your shirt.
“And maybe clothes for work?” he asked, and you could hear the hint of hope in his tone.
You already had a toothbrush and makeup remover wipes that you once bought to keep in Jeonghan’s bathroom. That time you’d also felt you were stepping over a line, for some reason. But Jeonghan thought it was endearing that you had asked him for permission beforehand. You don’t have to ask, he told you every time.
“Yeah, that too,” you replied, sounding short of breath. When finished unbuttoning your shirt, you threw a look behind you, seeing that Jeonghan had just turned his gaze elsewhere in that instant. You smiled to yourself, noticing that he, too, was acting strange, fidgety.
Or perhaps it was just staying behind the line you always painted. That was another thing that drove you crazy about this man—he always waited for your word. But he kept a keen eye on you, certainly making sure that you were not having trouble initiating. And this time was no different.
You liked Jeonghan. No, you loved him. And tonight, with all those questions roaming about in your mind, questions about moving in, taking care of Sohee, meeting her mother… You were simply too much in your head.
And Jeonghan knew.
After brushing your teeth and cleaning your makeup off, you slid into the bed beside him. He was eyeing you and the screen of his phone back and forth, waiting for you. “Ready?” he asked.
Your stomach twisted again. “Huh?”
Jeonghan smiled at you. “To sleep?” he added.
“Ah. Yes. Oh, yeah,” you stuttered nervously, scooting closer to him.
Jeonghan left the phone on the bedside table and turned the lamp off. He turned around, draping an arm around your waist as you also turned, forming up a spooning situation where he was the bigger spoon. He kissed your shoulder over his clothes, and then your cheek.
“Did you have a good day at work?” he asked, his tone soft and low.
You blinked, turning slightly to look at him. “Yeah. Why?” you asked.
He shrugged. “Hopefully I didn’t distract you too much with my stupid phone call,” he said.
Your heart softened. “It was okay, babe. Today's work was nothing out of the ordinary,” you told him, and then showed him a playful smile. “And I love your phone calls.”
“No matter how inopportune they are?” he asked, his tone waning ever so softly.
You nodded. “They never are. Stupid or inopportune,” you replied, your tone waning too.
He paused, looking briefly at your lips before bringing a hand to pinch your chin softly. “Where were you my whole life?” he asked.
Your heart could burst. You wanted to say a million things to him. You wanted to tell him how you fell in love with him at first glance, you wanted to tell him you loved him.
But you choked up. “I could say the same,” you whispered. And you weren’t lying—despite having had other boyfriends in the past, you had never ever felt love like this in your life. It only made you think that Jeonghan hadn’t either. And the thought broke your heart.
He smiled, moving his head so he could touch your forehead with his. “I’m never letting you go, you hear me?” he said.
You nodded. “Never.” Please.
You and Jeonghan fell asleep shortly after that, going back to your original spooning position. He wrapped an arm around you, and you snuggled close to him under the covers. Sleeping with him was extraordinarily good—he never moved, never snored, and you were careful not to disrupt his sleeping either.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, you felt him stir and slip out of bed. You became too conscious about it because the bed grew colder around you, and it was getting harder to go back to sleep.
You turned over, thinking that you might’ve done something to wake him up. But he was nowhere to be seen. “Jeonghan?” you called.
He stepped into the bedroom, carefully leaving the door ajar. “Did I wake you?” he asked, his tone low.
You watched him as he came back to bed. “What’s wrong?” you asked instead.
He sucked in a breath when he felt your warm body, as though he had been exposed to a chill temperature. “Sohee’s mother called.”
“This late?” you asked. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She’s fine. I suppose she didn’t look up what our time zone was before calling,” he explained calmly.
“Well, what did she have to say?” you asked, feeling sharply awake now.
He slipped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him. His clothes were cold, as well as his skin. He was probably having the phone call outside on the balcony so as not to wake you or Sohee up. “A bunch of nothings. She cancelled Thursday’s plan. Said she’ll be meeting us at the party.”
You couldn’t help but feel relieved. “Did she say why?”
Jeonghan shrugged. “Yeah. But it was all an excuse.”
Something inside you deflated with shame. Here you were, feeling relieved that you wouldn’t meet Soomin a day sooner; meanwhile, that also meant that Sohee wouldn’t see her mom either until the party. And Jeonghan’s lower tone reflected that pity.
“I’m sorry, babe,” you murmured.
“It’s fine. I had expected something like that,” he replied, but you could still hear the hurt in his tone. “She promised she’d be here for Sohee’s birthday. So, I’ll take whatever at this point.”
Now, you were even more reluctant to meet her. Your gut twisted, but before you could even process what type of feeling you were having, Jeonghan kissed your brow, easing the storm cooking up in your mind.
“Shall we go back to sleep, beautiful?” he whispered, moving his lips to kiss your eyelid, then your cheekbone.
Jeonghan was so sweet, so loving, that it scrambled your brains to think how he was yours.
His lips reached your cheek, and you moved your face so that the next kiss landed on your lips. He planted a sweet kiss, but then you parted your mouth, trapping his bottom lip in. You kissed him deeply, trying to put all of your feelings into one single kiss.
You wanted to show him that you were madly in love with him without having to say the words. You kissed him with such force that had him moaning in your mouth. He said nothing, only letting you lead as you pushed him by the shoulders, wordlessly telling him to lie on his back.
He gave you one confused look that quickly evaporated once you straddled him. His hands snaked on your thighs as you bent forward, taking his face in your hands to kiss him, moaning on his lips once his fingertips grazed the lace hem of your panties. The sound only gave him the green light to continue, exploring your skin with the pads of his fingers as he hiked the t-shirt up your torso.
You pulled back, but only to let him take the t-shirt off, leaving you only in your panties, and your chest bare for his view. His gaze roamed all over your bare skin, but it was for just a moment. You leaned in again, his hands latching to your waist, while the other fisted your hair by the side of your head.
You shifted on your knees, grounding your hips down on him—but just barely. Jeonghan was already hard, and you could feel him just by moving on top of him a little.
Dragging your fingernails down his chest, you crawled back to give yourself space to pull his shorts down. Your fingers hooked around the waistband of both his boxers and shorts, and you pulled, uncovering an inch of skin as one of your fingers traced a line over his thin but dark, happy trail.
Jeonghan sucked in a breath—but this time it was because of something else. “Sweetheart,” he mumbled, looking at your hands as you pulled his cock out, grabbing it with your other hand.
“Mn?” You raised your gaze to him.
His hands slipped on your hips, clutching you gently as you lifted them to move your panty line aside. “Condom?” he mumbled, groaning and clenching his jaw as you guided the head of his cock down your folds.
You pretended not to hear, lowering your hips and slipping him inside your warm walls, all in one go. And fuck, he was perfect—his cock was perfect too. The feeling of having him raw and stretching your pussy was the sweetest feeling you’ve ever felt. Your mouth fell open, eyebrows drawn together as you started bouncing on him gently.
“Fuck,” Jeonghan gasped, closing his eyes before sinking his head back on his pillow.
You anchored your hands on his chest, using him as support to roll your hips on top of him. And yet again, you wondered what the scene would look like—middle of the night, his pants halfway pulled down, you bouncing on top of him with your panties still on and trying your best to be quiet.
But it was nearly impossible. Jeonghan moved his hands from your hips, palming your breasts and caressing your pebbled nipples with the pad of his thumbs. You clenched your teeth together, letting out a soft whine as you ground your hips on him, trying to take his cock deeper into you.
“Quiet, baby,” he said, smirking. But then he moved his hands, one to your hip, the other on your lower abdomen. He pushed your panties further aside, pressing your lower belly with his palm before starting to rub your clit with the pad of his thumb.
“Fuck—Daddy,” you mewled, hips buckling on top of him.
“Do you like that?” he asked, his tone low. He glanced at your face once before his gaze dipped to your cunt, moaning at the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.
You nodded, picking up the pace of your hips. The pad of his thumb rubbed your clit steadily, not switching, unstopping. It was driving you closer to the edge with every second that passed, making your walls tighten around his girth.
“Is this what you wanted, baby? Daddy’s cock?” he asked with that lazy smile still on his face, his tone raw, but waning.
It drove you insane—the switch from being sweet and gentle to talking to you like that. “Mm-mmph,” you admitted.
He tilted his head back slightly, teeth clenched tightly as he tried to exert some control on himself. But as you continued rolling your hips on top of him, you saw him starting to fall apart—his eyes went white before he squeezed them shut. And then, he made a sound, a long, raspy moan that was stuck in his throat. “Baby, I’m not going to last long,” he said.
It was your turn to smile now. “That’s okay, Daddy,” you told him sweetly, and then you tilted your head, showing him a playful side. “I could slow down for you.”
Jeonghan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. “I don’t think that’ll make a difference,” he gritted, smiling despite himself.
His hands switched to your sides, lifting your hips with one powerful groan that rumbled in his chest. The sound made your pulse quicken, and your gaze immediately shot to the door, as though trying to fish for any kind of sounds coming from down the hall.
Jeonghan acted quickly—rolling your back onto the mattress effortlessly. A gasp spilled from your mouth, eyes locking with his as he slid your panties down your legs. And then he crawled between your thighs before taking his t-shirt off.
“We should be quiet,” you told him, smiling shyly as he placed his palms on your knees, pushing your thighs up to your chest.
“Let’s see how long you can do that,” he replied, letting out a tired giggle.
And he had a point about that. Last time you and Jeonghan had sex, you had been so noisy that the downstairs neighbors made some tacit remarks about a creaky bedframe. So you watched as Jeonghan grabbed a pillow, probably thinking the same as you and placed it behind the headboard.
“Can’t make any promises,” you mumbled, still looking as he pulled his shorts and boxers down, taking his hard cock in one hand and guiding it to your drenched pussy. You swallowed hard, holding your breath as the crown of his cock nuzzled against your entrance, and then he slipped inside you, so fucking slow.
You couldn’t resist it. The sight of his length disappearing in your mound was alluring, and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside you was even more delicious than riding him. He pushed your thighs to the sides of your ribs by climbing on top of you, so he was now fully pressing your body with his.
Jeonghan smiled. “See? Didn’t last long,” he said, hearing your soft whines as he bottomed out inside you.
“Fuck—daddy,” you gritted, breathing hard under the weight of his body, but you loved it. “Move, please, move.”
You didn’t need to beg—he did it right away, pulling back to push right in, creating a steady pace effortlessly. He framed your face with his forearms, his face so close to yours that he only leaned slightly to get a swift kiss. You cupped his head in your hands, lifting your head so you could kiss him deeper, earning a soft moan from him.
It was truly suffocating. The warmth of his body, being so close to him. Looking into his eyes as he claimed your body like it was his. It overwhelmed you—the need to be his woman and have him like this every night, forever. You were going insane with the mere thought—waves of love and lust coursed through you uncontrollably.
The room became flooded with the muffled sounds of pleasure—the small whines you made, the short moans Jeonghan let out in between tired breaths, and the very obvious creaking of the bedframe despite the headboard having a pillow to not slam against the wall.
You loved it. Loved how you both had fallen into an addiction of silent quickies in the middle of the night, stifling moans and speaking filth in hushed tones. The sheer adrenaline of trying and failing to be quiet made you wet. You could even catch the slippery sound of your arousal as Jeonghan pushed his cock deep inside you.
“God,” you gasped when he picked up a pace, fucking you faster, still massaging that glorious spot inside your walls.
And you let pleasure bloom inside your body with a hot, intense shiver. Long ago, it was so rare that you’d cum with penetration alone—but somehow Jeonghan always made you cum like that, effortlessly. Your mouth dropped open, almost tasting your orgasm on the tip of your tongue.
“You close?” he asked with sharp, ragged breaths. He gave you a dazed look, outlining your features with his gaze. When you nodded, he gave you another light smile. “Let go, baby.”
You stared into his eyes, watched him as his jaw twitched when he ground his teeth down—you noticed he was close too. “Cum with me?” you asked, cheeks turning hot as you heard how fucking sweet you sounded.
Oh, you were in love. You had come to this realization a while ago, but now it was becoming more and more unbearable. Your mind spun with questions—did Jeonghan know? Could he see it in your eyes? Hear it in your tone? There you were, riddled with questions while you were begging for him to cum with you, and he wasn’t wearing a condom.
“You’re cumming first, Babygirl,” he replied, his tone waning.
You could’ve sworn that he had a way to hear your thoughts, but you didn’t let that distract you—because you were instantly swept over by an intense wave of pleasure. A gasp tore from your chest, and before you could let out a scream, Jeonghan crushed his mouth against yours, drowning out your sounds of pleasure.
He continued thrusting in that same calculated pace until you became a puddle of pleasure. You were wet. Sweaty, hot, and quivering on his bedsheets. And he was kissing you softly, passionately, like he hadn’t done before.
“Felt good?” he mumbled.
You nodded. “Amazing,” you drawled sweetly.
“Good,” he mouthed, the muscles of his face tightening, like he was in pain—he was close.
Your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t pull out,” you said.
He blinked, his gaze finding you instantly.
“Please,” you whispered, linking your wrists behind his nape, as though trying to hold him right there.
He blinked slowly and then let his forehead rest on top of yours. “Fuck,” he sighed, pushing his hips against yours with tight, deep thrusts. You closed your eyes as another euphoric rush gripped your body wholly. “God—fuck, baby,” Jeonghan drawled, letting out a raw, quiet moan as he gave you a final push, his cock twitching in your walls as he spilled himself deep inside you.
Jeonghan remained there, breathing fitfully, his body completely glued to yours as though unable to move. And then you wished you’d known what to say next. You wished you knew what to do or say after making love. So instead, you moved your face, finding his lips with your own. You kissed him slowly, trying to convey the quick rhythm of your heart, the butterflies swarming inside your chest.
He pressed his lips against the corner of yours, then he kissed your cheek. “You’re okay?” he whispered, gently pushing the tip of your nose with his before pressing another kiss against your lips.
Your heart gave another leap. “Yeah,” you mumbled shakily. “We should probably get ready to sleep. You have work tomorrow.”
Jeonghan pulled back, blinking at you confusedly. “Yeah. Sure,” he replied, his gaze outlining your features. “But after I’ve taken care of you, baby.”
And when he peeled off your body, you knew you had made a mistake. You felt foolish then, because this man was clearly thrown off by the switch in your tone, confused by your evident refusal to talk about what was going on in your mind.
But he took care of you with the utmost gentleness, offering to start a shower for you, which you declined due to how late into the night it was. However, you cleaned up in the bathroom, and when you came out, he had a glass full of water ready on the bedside table, and he’d already changed the bedsheets.
“I put your clothes in the washing machine and programmed it for a quick start early in the morning,” he said thoughtfully as he unstuck the pillow behind the headboard. “They should be clean and dry by the time we both get up.”
It made you smile—the very careful manner in which he was fluffing the pillows as you approached the bed. “Thank you, babe,” you replied, feeling your heart warm up.
“Don’t thank me,” he whispered, lifting his head as you stood beside him before the bed. “Hopefully you will remember to bring in some spare clothes next time?” he insisted, smiling shyly about something, and then— “Sorry. I keep bringing it up.”
Your heart deflated. “Don’t apologize,” you replied, placing your palm on his side, feeling the muscle of his abdomen contract at your touch. “I’ll remember to bring some stuff in. I promise.”
“Okay,” he mumbled, grabbing your hand and taking it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go to sleep.”
You nodded, climbing back on the bed and snuggling him close. Jeonghan wrapped your waist with one arm, the little crook beneath your earlobe.
Your heart fluttered. “Do we already have a cake?” you asked suddenly.
Jeonghan pulled back. “What?” he mumbled.
You turned slightly. “For Sohee’s party. Did you order a cake?”
His brow creased. “Yes. Why?” he asked curiously.
You turned again, face to your pillow. “It’s nothing. I can bake really good chocolate cakes,” you gave him a light shrug. “Thought I could help with something.”
Jeonghan smiled; you felt the change in his breath on your neck, making you shiver. “I’ll remember that,” he said, pressing his lips to the first spot of skin he could find. “For her fourth birthday.”
The knot in your tummy twisted harder. “Yeah…” you trailed off, deciding to snuggle closer to him, silently telling him to hold you tighter to his body.
“Sleep well, pretty,” he whispered, unaware of the shift happening in you.
Your head was about to blow up. You were sure. And every time you blew air out of your lungs, your abdomen screamed in pain and exhaustion.
“Perhaps I’m not made for this,” you mumbled to yourself quietly, wrapping the bead around your fingers to secure a tight knot, and then proceeded to put tape on one side of it, sticking it to the wall.
You had successfully decorated the side of the dining room that had the most cleared space for it. There perched a big and colorful daisy of white and light blue petals, with a Happy B-day Sohee sign sitting in the centre in baby pink colors, made by your hand. You had pulled out your party decorating skills, which you had put away since entering college, but they came in handy the moment you realized Jeonghan wasn’t planning on decorating.
“Okay,” you sighed tiredly, looking at the wall. Now that you had one task done, you needed to tend to the other two tasks you had set for yourself.
Task number one was decorating, done. Task number two was tidying up the place for the guests. And task number three was psyching yourself up for meeting your boyfriend’s ex, and the mother of his daughter.
Your stomach did that thing again—it felt like some deep part of you protested against what you had ahead for you, and it wanted to draw your attention to it by stabbing you right in the gut.
But you went ahead and tidied the place up—putting toys where they belonged, folding blankets and taking them to the bedrooms, cleaning the kitchen counters, and setting the table just nicely.
Two hours had passed since you’d arrived at Jeonghan’s place, and all of your tasks were done. You realized you could sneak fifteen minutes of mirror talk and touching up your makeup before Jeonghan and Sohee arrived back home.
When you came out of the bathroom, you felt like something was shaking inside your veins, leaving a trail of prickled nerves in its wake. But you took a deep breath—catching the sweet smell of vanilla, sugar, and cinnamon from the birthday cake set in the centre of the round dining table. You outlined the entire space with your gaze, mentally checking every single item you told Jeonghan you were in charge of getting for the party.
Balloons. Fruit tray. Candy tray. Banana milk. Peach drinks (Sohee’s favorite), candles and goodie bags, which were dinosaur themed.
The smart lock of the main door clicked and beeped, making your stomach contract and your nerves fire up in different directions inside your limbs. Jeonghan was crossing the door carrying a backpack on one shoulder, gift bags hanging on the same arm he was carrying Sohee with.
“Hello, you two,” you chirped, anxiety instantly swept when you saw Sohee’s adorable face. “What took you so long?”
“Sohee’s teachers,” Jeonghan exhaled tiredly, closing the door behind him and watching you approach him and Sohee. “They had a lot to say to me. One of them even got emotional.”
“And what did they have to say?” you asked, eyes set on the little girl perched on her father’s arm.
“Oh, just how much they appreciate Sohee,” he replied, bumping his daughter on his arm and turning to her. “They said you were the best girl, right? The smartest, kindest and friendliest. She’s been pretty talkative at school,” he added at the end, giving you a meaningful glance.
You made a shocked expression. “Is that true?” you asked, and then giggled at the sound of your own voice.
Sohee was listening to the conversation while she chewed on the tip of her index finger. But she nodded intently.
“They gave her a couple of presents,” Jeonghan said, gesturing to the gift bags on his arm. “Some of them were from her friends, two of them were from her teachers.”
You took one glance at the gift bags. “Oh, shoot,” you muttered.
“What?” Jeonghan said, brow furrowing.
“I forgot the present I got for her back in my apartment,” you said dispiritedly. But you turned to Sohee, extending your hands at her. “Hi, sweetheart!”
Sohee inclined her little body forward, just as you grabbed her by the torso and wrapped her around your hip. The movement was so natural that it went almost unnoticed, but it was Jeonghan’s gaze, the way he blinked, and his eyes lit up as he looked at his daughter, pointing at the wall behind you.
“That’s okay, we can go get it tomorrow morning,” Jeonghan mumbled faintly, still looking at his daughter perched now on your hip.
“Mn,” Sohee hummed softly, kicking her legs up in the air and pointing at the wall slightly harder.
“Oh, right,” you turned on your feet, taking the baby girl to the living room area so she could see the wall decorations. “We made this for you, kiddo,” you chirped, looking at her pretty face.
She pointed again.
“D’you like it?” you whispered, heart warming up at the sight of her sweet brown eyes taking in the big daisy on the wall.
She nodded aloofly. And then kicked her legs, pointing them to the floor.
“Alrighty,” you mumbled, carefully setting her on the floor. You watched her run joyfully to her bedroom, perhaps to get something, a toy for her to show you.
But then you turned, catching Jeonghan still staring at you, hands deep in his pockets, head tilted to one side. But it was the tenderness in his eyes that made your heart flip in that same rhythm as before—the one you had been so keen on avoiding, but was becoming unbearable.
“Do you like it?” you parroted, showing him the wall with your hands. You exhaled, trying to calm your nerves down—but it was futile.
“I love it,” he replied with a warm tone coating his words. Then he approached you with a slow step, slipping a hand on your waist to pull you closer to his frame. He leaned his head forward, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
A vehement shudder crossed your entire body, and you let your eyelids fall closed as he planted another kiss on your forehead, this time longer. The words he said were ones you knew your heart was aching to hear—but the noise inside your head didn’t let you form a response.
The doorbell rang loudly, making you cringe visibly and turn to the door. “I’ll get it,” you said, slipping out of his embrace.
“No, I’ll get it,” Jeonghan said kindly.
“Then I’ll go get the birthday girl,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t feel too stiff on your face—but your heart was going a thousand miles per second.
Jeonghan caught something in your face, his eyes outlining your features before you turned around and hurried down the hall and to the toddler’s bedroom.
Sohee was playing with the new dinosaurs that her father had gotten for her birthday. She already got them all lined up on the colorful bookshelf in one corner of the room. Your stomach twisted with cuteness overload when you heard the tiny noises she was making for a triceratops as she made it stomp across the shelf.
“Hey kiddo,” you cooed, approaching her and crouching behind her. “Your friends are here. Do you want to come with me and greet them?”
She turned around and directed a steady look at your face. “Yeap,” she nodded happily, taking another dinosaur in her fist and running out of the room, squealing like she knew she was the star of the day.
You rose, and with a big sigh, you followed the toddler down to the dining room. You greeted the guests, parents of Sohee’s friends from daycare. And before you knew it, the party had already started, and it was going smoothly.
You made light conversation as you got juice boxes for all the kids, who weren’t many, but they felt like a massive multitude when they were swarming around you trying to get juice boxes and goodie bags.
“Alright, alright!” you laughed, holding up both hands. “Everyone will get one, I promise!” you said while handing a goodie bag to each kid.
You felt a hand on the small of your back. “That includes me?” Jeonghan asked close to your ear before planting a kiss on your cheek.
You leaned into the kiss. “If you behave, I’ll consider it,” you replied warmly.
“Mmn,” he hummed, pressing another loving kiss. “You know you’re all I want.”
Your heart stammered, making you blink and find his eyes. Your tongue twisted, and you wished you had been quick enough to quip back something as enticing—but it was already too late. The doorbell rang again, but this time, neither you nor Jeonghan had to go get it.
It was Sohee’s mother, Soomin. She had only rung the doorbell to announce her arrival, since she knew the combination to the smart lock—a thing you had thought only you and Jeonghan knew, but you were proven wrong.
The person who crossed the door was entirely not what you had imagined. In all the scenarios where you had pictured yourself meeting Jeonghan’s ex and the mother of his child, you’d never imagined that it would be like this.
Soomin was beautiful. She was tall and had a bright smile as she crossed the door. “Where’s my girl?” she shouted from across the apartment, and your poor heart fell to your stomach when you saw Jeonghan smile widely.
“Oh, thank god,” he mumbled beside you. He ran quickly to his daughter, snatching her from the floor and making her squeal with the abrupt movement. Sohee laughed, drawing the attention of the room as Jeonghan carried her to see her mother. “Sohee baby, mom’s here!”
“Hi, peanut,” Soomin said in a high-pitched tone. “Happy birthday, sweetheart! Mommy is here,” she said, and then she leaned towards Sohee, who was sitting in Jeonghan’s arms.
But Sohee recoiled, turning her back to her mother. It was only natural, you thought, since the child barely recognized the face in front of her. But the scene before you hurt to watch either way. Jeonghan bounced the toddler in his arms, trying to drag her attention back to Soomin, who was getting something out of her leather handbag.
“Look what mommy got for you!” Soomin said, still speaking in that faux sweet tone. “Look!”
Sohee turned to see her mother getting a red gift bag, small enough that it fit inside the slick black leather bag. Sohee stared at it for a hard second before extending her hand and grabbing it, and then she proceeded to kick her legs to the floor.
“Alright,” Jeonghan said, putting the toddler back on the floor.
Sohee ran freely, and back to her little friends. Your gaze followed back to Jeonghan, who greeted Soomin with a very dry hey, but then approached to give her a quick hug, devoid of all kinds of affection. It was almost like neither of them knew how to treat each other anymore.
“Wow, you really went out this time,” Soomin said, looking at the decorations, the birthday cake carefully set in the centre of the table, birthday plates piled up, and trays of fruit and candy already about to empty.
“Oh, it was all her,” Jeonghan said, extending an arm towards you almost ceremoniously.
Your heart warmed up at the gesture, but your nerves had eaten you up already. You approached them with a stiff step until Jeonghan wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you up to his side, showing you off proudly.
“So I can put a face to the name, finally,” Soomin said, showing you a dashing smile. She extended a hand towards you. “I’m Soomin, Sohee’s mother.”
You took her hand. “Pleasure to meet you,” you said, smiling at her politely.
At that exact second, one of the little kids had pulled one of the candy trays from the table and thrown the candy all over the floor. “Oh—” you uttered, motioning to go clean the candy from the floor.
“I’ll get it,” Jeonghan said, giving you a quick but reassuring look. And then he said to you, “I’ll be back, baby.”
And you knew he didn’t want to leave you alone with his ex, but he also didn’t want you to go and clean up the floor. So you stood there, anxiously watching as Jeonghan picked the candies and put them back on the tray one by one.
“Can I help with anything?” Soomin asked, more for decency than true intentions of helping.
“Nope,” you said awkwardly. “Everything’s set up.”
Soomin leaned her head to one side slightly before throwing one glance to the kids playing with Sohee. “You’ve done a lot already.”
“It’s not that big of a party,” you said, shrugging.
She smiled faintly, and you knew what she was looking at. “It’s big enough,” she said faintly.
You followed her gaze, finding Sohee playing with one of her little friends. They were both sharing a soundboard that someone at the party had gifted her.
“She’s shy, isn’t she?” Soomin said, her tone was devoid of snark, but then she added, “Kind of like her father.”
Although the comment wasn’t ill-natured, it hurt your heart to hear it. “She just takes a minute,” you replied, wishing you hadn’t sounded so harsh towards Soomin. But your heart was beating frantically, making you afraid that it was going to jump out of your chest.
And then you watched as Soomin’s gaze went around the room again, stopping on the wall behind you. Her dark brown eyes went over the balloons forming a giant daisy, and the big birthday sign made by you.
“You’re really good with her,” Soomin said after a moment. Her eyes found you. “Jeonghan has told me about you.”
Your tummy clenched. “I care about her.”
“I can tell,” she replied, and then you caught an edge in her tone. And then added, softer, “Not everyone would step into something like this.”
You frowned. “Like what?”
Soomin raised her eyebrows, gesturing around the apartment, the toddlers. “Well, a life that’s already in progress, you know what I mean?”
You told yourself that the words were neutral. Nothing was targeted towards you. But it still felt like it was.
You forced a smile. “I didn’t see it that way.”
Soomin’s expression didn’t change; it was as though she were having a great time talking with you. “That’s probably why you’ve made it work. It was really brave of you to have stepped in. To do what I couldn’t.”
Your stomach clenched again, and your mouth twitched like you were about to tell her something you’d regret.
“Baby! Where are the candles?” Jeonghan called from the kitchen.
You exhaled, glad. “Excuse me,” you said, and as you walked away, you felt Soomin’s gaze on you, following you.
Your ears were ringing, anger still boiling inside you. Jeonghan was closing a drawer, his expression hardening at once as he took one look at you. “Everything okay there, beautiful?” he asked, glancing towards the living room.
You could still feel Soomin’s eyes on you. You nodded. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, trying to mask your anger. You would talk about it with him later.
His eyes outlined your expression. “Sure?”
“Sure,” you said, opening the top cabinet and then handing him the pack with green and pink candles in it.
Jeonghan grabbed the candles, sighing. “Looks like the party is going well,” he said, giving you a hopeful smile and glimmering eyes.
Despite the rage still tightening your stomach, you smiled at him. “Sohee’s happy,” you said, casting a look at Sohee. “I’ll go get her,” you told him, turning around and walking towards Sohee.
The toddler was happily focused on her toys and her little friends. Her eyes were wide and glimmering in excitement, and candy wrappers were spread all across the floor. Something caught your eye—a red, unopened gift bag, forgotten in one corner of the living room.
“Princess, come here,” you called softly, crouching behind her to see her at eye level. “Do you want cake?”
The question caught her attention immediately, making her turn around and face you. You stretched your hands to her, and she silently responded by stretching her little arms to you. You grabbed her, standing up to secure her at your hip, and she instantly wrapped her legs around you.
“Oh, I got her. Let me.”
Soomin was already behind you, showing you her palms so you could transfer Sohee to her grip. A pang of jealousy sank deep inside your belly, making you want to hold Sohee closer to your body, almost like a protective defence mechanism.
You conceded, though begrudgingly. “Of course,” you replied, but there was no way you could hide the disappointment in your tone.
With a fretful pain lacing your heart, you handed Sohee over to her mother. The toddler kicked her legs anxiously and turned to look at you as though trying to understand she wasn’t in your arms anymore. And with little control over yourself, you glanced in Jeonghan’s direction, almost as knowing he’d be looking. He had watched the whole exchange from afar, and he immediately recognized the dispirited look on your face, because all he did was offer you a solemn smile.
It made your blood boil. What else could he do? A tiny voice called inside your head. You’re not Sohee’s mother. The voice said with painful regret.
It was the truth. No matter how bad it hurt, you weren’t Sohee’s mother. And you were getting attached to her—attached to this life without having a true anchor to it.
And the thought ruined the rest of the night for you.
So you watched as Soomin sat on the table with Sohee sitting on her lap, the toddler forgot about the anxiety of being with a stranger as soon as Jeonghan stepped beside the chair and lit up the candles on the cake.
You debated whether to step closer or just watch from afar. The candles you had picked for Sohee’s cake were green and pink, and a single sparkling candle that, once Jeonghan got to light it up, stole the attention of the toddler. Her big, brown eyes glimmered in the dark against the sparkles that flew up to the ceiling, and instead of gasping or crying out as the other kids did, Sohee just stared at it, fascination spread across her face, parting her little lips.
Your stomach twisted in adoration. And you couldn’t resist it. You pulled out your phone and hit the record button, determined to save this little moment forever—even if in real life it only lasted about fifty seconds.
Sohee was happy. She ate cake happily, shared her toys with her friends and seemed to be getting better at talking with others. And that was the only shining light in your night.
By the time that all the guests had left, the apartment didn’t look as wrecked as you half expected it to be after hosting about fifteen people in it. The paper plates were stacked in a crooked tower, forks and spoons piled next to it on the kitchen counter, breadcrumbs spread all over the surface. There were plastic cups everywhere, toys, gift bags and confetti all over the living room floor.
The front door opened, and Jeonghan slipped inside the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him. The minute he stepped in, you decided to busy yourself by looking for a large trash bag that you had left somewhere in the kitchen.
“Well, that’s everyone,” Jeonghan said, pleased that all of the guests had gone home. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing.
You started shoving trash into the bag as quickly as you could without making too much noise, and you were half glad that there was so much to do before you went home because you needed to think.
But Jeonghan had already noticed you were in a mood, and you could feel him hovering in the kitchen, trying to get a read on you. “The party went really well. Everyone had a lot of fun,” he said, his tone gentle.
You were grabbing a bunch of plastic cups in one hand, throwing them inside the bag without caring that they were still half full. “Yeah. Sure,” you huffed, continuing to clean the dining table.
The silence that followed was truly unsettling, making you weigh on the tone you had used and the manner in which you were moving. You were stepping out of control, and you didn’t care where you were taking this conversation.
By the time you found the courage to raise your gaze, you found Jeonghan frowning at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Air left your lungs like you were suddenly punched in the chest. “Did you have fun today?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “Because I didn’t.”
Jeonghan’s frown didn’t ease; he was confused. But his gaze softened, showing you worry. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone dropping when he added, “Did something happen?”
You left the bag aside on the floor, dropping your arms at your sides in a defeated manner. “I mean, I spent the entire evening running around, trying to make sure everything worked,” you said, gesturing around you. “I made the food, drinks, decorations, and cleanup. I didn’t have the chance to sit down once.”
Jeonghan blinked. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
You sighed. “That’s easy to say now.”
He shifted his weight, motioning to approach you. “That’s not what I meant—”
“I know,” you cut him off, putting a hand between him and you. “I know you meant it nicely.”
You could feel the waves of emotion coming closer, coming to get you. And your body acted off of instinct, picking up one stray napkin on the table and folding it in half, almost as though preparing yourself to have something in your hand for when you started crying.
With a tearless sob, you added. “It would’ve been nice if someone had noticed while it was happening.”
Jeonghan’s frown disappeared. “I noticed.”
“Did you?” you asked, still holding your emotions back.
“Of course I did,” he said, his tone dropping to an even gentler one.
But you could still feel the tears prickling in your eyes, everything you held back making you taste them in your tongue. “Then why was I still doing everything while everyone else was enjoying the party?”
Jeonghan tilted his head to one side, looking at you as though finding you endearing that you were about to cry for something like this, but still approached you with caution. “Why didn’t you ask for help?” he said, and then he hesitated, almost as though wanting to take back his words, so he added instead, “I was busy with things as well, I thought we were both busy, baby.”
You deadpanned to him. “You really didn’t think I wanted to enjoy the party too?”
He opened his mouth, his eyes widening as his mind started to reel, you knew it.
But you kept going. “I wanted to sit down with her when she opened her presents. Or be next to her when she blew out the candles. Honestly, Jeonghan, I felt like a guest at a party I helped throw. I couldn’t even hold Sohee for two minutes!”
His face fell in utter worry, his shoulders going slack. “Is this all because Soomin wanted to hold her?” he asked, his tone hollow, like he now couldn’t believe you were throwing a tantrum over this.
You let out an exasperated sigh. “No—! Yes! But it’s not only that!” you stammered.
Jeonghan stepped back, but just slightly, as though he wanted to take a good look at your face—disbelief still contorting his face. “Soomin was just trying to have a moment with her as well,” he shook his head. “I don’t see that as a bad thing. Maybe you’re reading too much into it.”
“Am I?” you asked, raising your tone.
And Jeonghan sighed. “Baby… she’s Sohee’s mother.”
It wasn’t necessarily cruel. His tone was devoid of venom, but it still hurt—like a bitter truth being forced down your bloodstream, burning and leaving an ache in its wake.
Your entire body shook before a powerful shudder. “Right,” you said slowly.
Jeonghan immediately realized the weight of his words, the pain translating in your features. “Wait—” he said, his jaw set tight as his eyes widened in worry. “Baby, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant—”
You shook your head. “No, I get it,” you said, but your voice had lost all power, and the wall you had put between reason and emotions crumbled. Tears burst in your eyes, and a sob broke through your chest.
“You’re right. I’m not her mom,” you continued, giving him a brittle smile. “I never forgot that. Not for a second,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “You know, I keep reminding myself of that. Of where I stand.”
Jeonghan took another step towards you, this time more decisive. “Baby, you’re blowing this out of proportion,” he said, trying to be nice still, trying to figure out how to calm you down.
You looked down to wipe your tears. Confetti was spread all over the floor, and your stomach twisted at the thought of how this scene might appear from the outside. The apartment was a mess—gift bags, wrapping paper, candy, and new toys scattered across the living room. A half-eaten cake sat on the table, and balloons were stuck to the walls. The lights in the kitchen and living room remained on. You and Jeonghan were arguing, trying to keep your voices down so as not to disturb the little girl’s sleep.
You finally found the strength to look at him again. And when Jeonghan saw your tired face, fear replaced the worry in his eyes. He saw the determination in your eyes—he knew you well. “I think I’m going to go.”
Jeonghan sighed, motioning a step closer. “It’s late. Stay,” he said, his tone still wrapped in a careful gentleness.
You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jeonghan,” you said, your tone fading into a mere whisper. “I’m going home.”
He took a pause, studying you with his gaze roaming all over the features of your face, finding something in your eyes that made you wonder what you would look like. Because he seemed to lose all composure. “Baby, come on,” he said, his eyebrows drawn in. “We just had a fight. That doesn’t mean you need to leave.”
You sighed tiredly. “It wasn’t just a fight, Jeonghan,” you said calmly. All need to fight was gone now. You had lost. You shook your head. “I’m done.”
You turned around, heading towards the door. But you caught a glimpse of Jeonghan’s expression, the shock and worry making his eyes wide and glistening. “Baby.”
You grabbed your sweater and your handbag. The only two non-disposable belongings you had in his house.
“Baby,” he insisted again, more firmly now. “You’re not seriously leaving because of something I said.”
You paused, but you didn’t let the moment catch you in your determination. “It’s not just something you said. It’s a fact.”
Jeonghan stiffened, but words got stuck in his mouth, making his throat bob visibly.
You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob. And then all self-control slipped out of your hands. “Today I learned two things. One is that I was changing my whole life to fit into yours,” you told him, pulse quickening when you realized what you were doing, what you were breaking. “And the other thing is that I was the only one doing that.”
Jeonghan took a weak step towards you, his eyes showing the realization of what was about to happen. “We can still figure things out,” he whispered, eyes wide and glossy.
And something reminded you of how easy Soomin walked back into Jeonghan and Sohee’s life, how fleeting her presence was compared to the mess you had in your hands now. Your heart was breaking, and you couldn’t fit in your head how easy it was for her to walk out and walk back in. You envied that for a split second, because now you had a broken heart to fix.
Jeonghan still thought the problem was logical. And not something you had been wanting him to truly see.
You took in a deep breath. “Goodbye, Jeonghan,” you whispered, slipping out through the door and shutting it quietly behind you.
Coming back home to your apartment felt hauntingly out of the ordinary. It was as though you were stepping into a scene that had been put on pause. There was a forgotten glass of juice half empty on the kitchen counter, and you couldn’t remember leaving it there. The ironing board was standing in the middle of the living room, iron unplugged and in the holder—two things you had left there while in a hurry to get to your work in time. Plants all over the apartment were starting to wither, neglected.
A secondary instinct kicked in, telling you that at this hour you’d be helping Jeonghan tidy the place up while Sohee slept. You’d be stacking toys back into their place, folding blankets while Jeonghan did the dishes.
You closed your eyes slowly, finally hurting when you realized that you had walked out on all of it.
And your apartment didn’t feel like home.
You left your things on the counter and decided to plop down on the couch, face down against the cushions. Your pulse hadn’t slowed down since the moment you’d said goodbye to Jeonghan—and when you collapsed on the couch, you realized that you were crying. And you weren’t crying angry tears like when you were having a fight with Jeonghan, no.
You sobbed uncontrollably, tears kept coming and blurring your vision. And there was nothing in your mind except the memory of Jeonghan’s face when you walked out on him. You did the right thing, you told yourself, but your heart felt empty.
It had been the right thing. That much was true.
You loved Jeonghan. You loved Sohee.
Somewhere in the kitchen, you heard your phone buzzing, vibrating furiously inside your handbag. You ignored it. And you ignored it ten times all through the night, until it eventually ceased ringing.
Quiet settled around the empty apartment. An apartment that was yours, with all the things you built on your own. And the worst part is that it didn’t feel like home anymore. You kept wanting to reach for your car keys and leave somewhere.
Did you overreact? You wondered. I probably did blow everything out of proportion. You thought, remembering Soomin’s satisfied face when she told you that you were brave for stepping into her shoes.
Your chest tightened.
But you pushed it down.
The first twenty hours were hell.
That’s how Jeonghan felt. Like a long, gruelling torture that only pushed him to reflect.
The balloons on the wall had started to deflate, but he didn’t want to take them down. The rest of the things that you had prepared for the party had already been cleaned up, one thing that Jeonghan had done the morning after you left. It helped him think instead of bombarding your voicemail with messages pleading with you to call him back.
I could just go to her apartment, he thought. But he imagined the scene—Sohee on his arms as he begged you to come back. And he instantly pushed the idea away.
The apartment was awfully quiet. Until his phone started to vibrate on the dining table, making his stomach drop, and his hand reached for it instantly, thinking it was you, finally calling him back.
Soomin.
Jeonghan sighed, his heart deflating.
But then, a knock came to the front door. And for a moment, he thought he imagined it.
Then it came again. You knocked two quick times, deciding to step back from it and wait, clasping the gift bag with your hands. Standing there, your gaze fell out of focus, and inevitably started comparing the times you had stood there, how quickly Jeonghan would get to the door and welcome you in with open arms.
When Jeonghan finally opened the door, it was the first time you had seen him truly torn. It was normal for you to see him untidy after a long day at work, hair messy, unmade tie, untucked shirt, whatever. But no, this time was different. His face was darkened by the dark circles under his eyes, but it was the deep, conflicted sparkle in them that disheartened you completely.
“Hi,” you croaked, and cleared your throat nervously.
Jeonghan let out a quick sigh, running a palm down his mouth and chin before stepping aside, letting you in.
Your stomach twisted. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but silence was the last thing you had anticipated. But you stepped into the apartment anyway, immediately spotting the quietness, which could only indicate one thing.
“Where is she?” you muttered, turning around to see Jeonghan shutting the door behind him quietly.
“Asleep,” he told you quietly, leaning back against the door with his hands tucked behind his back. You noticed the tired look he gave you, but that wasn’t the only thing that consumed your attention wholly—he was wary. “I just put her to bed.”
Your heart squeezed one more time, and you gave him a reproachful look. “Oh, okay,” you sighed, looking at the green gift bag in your hands. “Then I’ll leave this with you. She’ll like it, I’m sure. It’s a—it’s an axolotl plushie,” you said, stammering over your words with the need to hurry and get this over with. You wanted to run back to your car and cry.
Jeonghan nodded, licking his lips in a way that told you he had a lot to say, but decided to remain quiet. See how things would unfold first.
But this wasn’t going according to your plans. Your eyes began to brim with tears, which you blinked away quite successfully. “I wanted to see her one last time. Say goodbye properly,” you told him, tone lowering as your throat closed up.
He leaned the back of his head against the door, and as he blinked slowly, you saw his walls crumble down. “I know,” he said, his tone lowered too. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly.
You saw him blink up, fixing his gaze on the ceiling. “Is that why you put her to bed earlier than usual?” you asked keenly. “So I wouldn’t get to see her?”
Jeonghan nodded slowly, moving his arms and crossing them on his chest. “I didn’t want her to see this. I’m sorry,” he shrugged with a look of pity on his face. “But I think we should talk first.”
You felt your brow furrowing. “I thought we already talked, Jeonghan. Last night,” you said, feeling lost.
“Yeah, but last night you walked out on me,” he said, tilting his head to one side as his gaze changed, quickly being filled with disappointment and resentment. He pushed himself away from the door, approaching you with the same wariness.
“There was nothing left to say,” you muttered, trying to keep down the tight knot sitting in your throat.
“Really?” he gasped, stopping dead in his tracks just one step in front of you. His face had fallen in something that went far beyond resentment now, like uncontrolled exasperation and anger. “We could’ve solved things last night before you ended everything!”
Shame filled your bloodstream, coursing through your body and leaving your skin feeling hot and prickling with anger. You carefully set down the gift bag on the table, deciding to leave. “I won’t let anyone treat me like I’m second-best, Jeonghan. That’s why I walked out.”
It was as though you had slapped him in the face. He stepped back, blinking in a way that told you that your words had hurt him. But before you could have a confirmation on this, Jeonghan took another step, but now in your direction. “I didn’t treat you like second-best,” he replied, his face crumpling with hurt, and most shocking—you saw fear in his eyes.
“No? I was trying to make everything perfect for Sohee. And by the end of it, what did I get? Your ex walking all over me like I’m her stand-in!” you blurted, words coming out raw and shaky. But you were glad that, despite the overwhelming need to cry, you could still speak what troubled your heart.
Jeonghan looked at you like he was finally seeing the truth. Almost as though he had willingly blindfolded himself throughout the party last night, but now, he finally saw something he didn’t want to.
So, with heat flooding your chest, you continued, “You truly didn’t notice, Jeonghan? The tacit remarks she’d make? Or when I wanted to hold Sohee and she would casually step in? Or what about the moment she told me I was brave for doing what she couldn’t?” you said. Your throat tightened, anger burning as tears finally spilled. You wiped them angrily, refusing to look away.
“She said that?” he said with an empty look in his eyes as his shoulders sagged a little. “I didn’t hear her. I actually thought she was being nice. For once.”
“Maybe you didn’t want to see it because she was being nice to you,” you accused, crossing your arms to hold yourself steady. Or to protect yourself. “That’s myproblem. She doesn’t have to fight for a space!”
“That’s not fair. You don’t have to fight for a space—”
“No, but I do,” you interrupted, blood heating up after remembering how it felt. “And what’s not fair was pretending she was being nice. She knew exactly what she was doing, and whether you meant it or not, you let her.”
“I should’ve known she would do things when I wasn’t looking,” Jeonghan replied, his tone firm. But then his gaze softened, right as he too crossed his arms, making you think that he was guarding himself up as well.
You let out a resigned sigh. “But this isn’t truly about your ex, Jeonghan,” you finally said, gulping hard. “This is about us failing to do things right.”
And when he lifted his gaze back to you, you noticed a glint in his eyes, like sorrow taking over him. He wasn’t crying, but your heart slowed down at seeing that torn-up look on him. Your words had struck a nerve. “This isn’t on me—I tried making things right!” he said, not lifting his tone, his words devoid of heat.
“You were rushing into things! Asking me to move in? Putting me as the emergency contact on Sohee’s file without telling me?” you said, trying to keep your tone light, but instead you sounded like you were on the brink of tears again.
He still looked hurt, but now, he was beginning to detach himself from you—and you could tell. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe you, running a hand down his mouth, frustratedly. “I thought that you moving in with us would make us stronger. But now I know we weren’t on the same page with that.”
You understood why he delivered his words dryly, but it still made your aching heart deflate even more. Tears burst from your eyes again, and you hated that you were now out of control. “I just wanted to know that you weren’t just looking for someone to share the burden with.”
He let out a huff, a cold smile painting his face. “I don’t need someone to share the burden with; I have been doing fine on my own since Soomin left.”
You rolled your eyes—he was missing the point. “I wanted to be certain that you wanted me.”
That left him cold. His arms were still crossed on his chest, but you saw the smallest of budges, as though the very air had left his lungs, cracking that wall he was putting between you. “Is that it? Is that why you said no?” he asked, his tone softer. He motioned to approach you, but the look on your face stopped him.
You were fully crying now. No sobbing, no hiccupping, no runny nose. Just unstoppable tears streaking down your cheeks. Your lip trembled, just as you were looking for the words to tell him what you needed to hear from him.
His mind reeled—you could tell from the way his gaze shifted quickly, dropping from your face to the ground and then back to you. His brow twitched. “I thought you knew.”
You nodded. “I still needed to hear it, Jeonghan.”
His gaze fell to the space between you, as though trying to untangle this mess in his mind.
But it didn’t matter now. Nothing he could say now would ease the pain in your chest. You were done now. You wanted to go home.
You didn’t say goodbye this time. You didn’t want to drag it any further.
You walked past him, rushing to the door before he could stop you—or to be quick and have the confirmation that he wouldn’t try to stop you. And when you were safe in the elevator, your heart broke anew when you blinked and saw the image of Jeonghan standing in the dining room, a grief-stricken look on his face.
Oh, this would take you months to heal.
Your friends were right. Getting into a relationship with someone like Jeonghan would only bring you pain. Nothing else.
The walk from the elevator to where you had parked your car was excruciatingly long. Your chest was constricting more and more as you fished your key out of the pocket of your jeans, unlocking the car door from afar.
“Wait!”
Jeonghan’s raw voice crossed the parking lot like lightning shooting through the night sky. You stopped, not because you wanted to follow the request, but because of the sheer shock of knowing that he’d chased you down to the parking lot.
Jeonghan was catching up, running to where you stood, frozen to the ground. “Wait,” he pleaded, breathing hard as he reached you. “Don’t go… please.”
Had he run down the emergency stairs just to catch you before you got in your car? Had he left Sohee alone just to get to you? You stared at him, beyond disbelief.
He composed himself with one deep breath, raising his palms at you warily. “I know I don’t deserve this, but please hear me out.”
When you didn’t respond, a wild look of fear shot across his face, making his eyes widen slightly. “I didn’t ask you to move in with us because I wanted someone to share the burden of being a parent,” he said, his words honest despite the tremble in his tone. “I said those things because Sohee is my priority. I was dumb, and that was the first thing that popped into my mind. I wasn’t thinking of how I sounded.”
He gulped air, hard. “I asked you to move in with us because I feel empty when you’re not around,” he said, more fiercely, his eyes glimmering as he took another step towards you. “I asked you to move in with me because of the most selfish reason—because I don’t want to be without you.”
And then the look in his eyes turned to complete despair when you remained motionless. His confession had done nothing to you, or so he appeared to believe. But your heart was beating wildly, thumping in your eardrums. You stood there, torn between holding your ground and giving in to him.
His mouth parted, and he took half a pace to where you stood. But he stopped, as though all strength and courage had dissipated the moment your eyes began to brim with tears again. “Please,” he whispered, gulping hard once again. And you knew what he was feeling—his heart thrumming in his throat. “Don’t do this.”
He wasn’t scared of losing a perfect candidate for his ex’s stand-in. No—and you were a fool to have believed that. You had seen the terrible person his ex was and still decided to run with that idea.
What you had failed to remember was that Jeonghan had gone through difficult breakups before. His ex left him with a baby in his arms. And even if his relationship with Soomin had been loveless from the start, it was still hard, and it still hurt.
God knows how long it had been since Jeonghan felt love.
And the truth is, you trusted that not even he remembers it as well.
Jeonghan was exceptionally bad at sharing his feelings aloud. That is one thing you’ve learned in all eight months you’ve been with him. But then you saw his posture change, the strength in him waning. “I won’t let things go this way again,” he told you, his eyes pleading.
A brutal shudder coursed through you. You loved this man. There was no way you could just turn around and walk away.
Your lip trembled. “You promise?”
It was as though life had been injected into him, hope glimmering in his eyes now. “I promise,” he replied.
With just a couple of paces, you closed the space between you and him, grabbing him by the collar of his black t-shirt and pulling him in. And he simply let you, receiving the impact of your smaller body against his by grabbing you by the waist, already knowing you were aiming for a kiss.
Your lips clashed with his in a crushing kiss; it almost hurt, but you didn’t care. Your body brimmed with energy, making your fingers curl around the fabric of his t-shirt. It was a leap of faith—but this time, you were ready. “I love you,” you said, squeezing your eyelids tightly.
A small sigh escaped him. “I love you too,” he replied, switching his hands from your waist to your face, cupping it before going back to kissing you. “Please, stay,” he whispered before pressing his lips against yours tightly.
You melted in his embrace. “Okay,” you replied, nodding.
He wrapped you with his arms completely, placing one hand on your back and the other on your head, making your face nuzzle against the crook of his neck. “You scared me,” he whispered, the sound of his voice strangled.
You swallowed hard. “You scared me too,” you admitted.
He kissed the top of your head, moving to cup your face again. “I know this doesn’t solve everything,” he said, his tone brittle. That’s when you noticed his eyelashes crumpled with tears. “So I think we should talk about what comes next.”
You shifted slightly to get the tears on the corners of your eyes. “What do you mean?”
He seemed to calm down with one breath. “Soomin is still going to be part of our lives.”
You nodded. “I know.”
His eyebrows knitted slightly. “And sometimes our lives will get messy.”
“I know that, Jeonghan,” you whispered, smiling at him softly.
He caressed your cheek tenderly. “But I want you to talk to me every time something feels off,” he said.
“And will you?” you asked.
He nodded. “Every single time,” he said. “I want us to be stronger together.”
The certainty in his demeanour made you pause. “You mean that?” you asked with a tiny tone.
“Yes, I do,” he replied. “I should’ve told you this before. I don’t want to be without you.”
And now the honesty was the thing that disarmed you completely. For a second, you almost felt like your vulnerable side was about to win, but you sighed. “I was jealous of her,” you confessed.
He blinked in disbelief. “Of Soomin?”
You nodded. “She’s Sohee’s mom. I didn’t like to feel that I was competing with her.”
“You weren’t,” he said with certainty. “Things got messy yesterday. I didn’t notice she was trying to make you feel insecure.”
You shook your head lightly. “This whole thing feels ridiculous now.”
He frowned. “What does?”
“All of this,” you gestured to the space between you and him. “We nearly blew up our entire relationship because we couldn’t talk about what we actually feel.”
He let out a light laugh. “It won’t happen again,” he said, stepping back and grabbing your hand, motioning back to the building. “Let’s go back inside?”
You nodded, walking with him, feeling ten times lighter than before.
You both stepped into the elevator, still holding hands. But as soon as the doors closed, Jeonghan tugged at your hand, pulling you closer to his frame. He wrapped an arm around your waist, finding your cheek with the other hand. “Will you forgive me?” he mumbled softly, smiling at you like he was shy. “I let things go out of hand.”
Your heart softened again, making you choke up, so you just nodded. “Me too,” you whispered. “I apologize too.”
He blinked slowly. “We talked about this before, remember?” he told you. “My life is messy, and I haven’t had a relationship since Soomin. I think this is us trying to find the balance in everything.”
You smiled at him. “Please don’t tell me that finding the balance will look like this every time.”
He laughed lightly. “I told you, baby. I won’t let this happen again,” he said, full of certainty. “I mean it.”
You sighed softly, relief finally setting in. “Okay,” you whispered, closing your eyes as he leaned in to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours ever so tenderly, like he was trying to isolate every single feeling and just focus on how your lips felt against his.
The kiss deepened, lips locking together in a heated dance that had your blood dancing in your veins almost instantly. A moan bubbled in your mouth when you felt the tip of his tongue swiping on your bottom lip, touching your tongue as it rolled inside your mouth.
You placed a hand square on his chest. “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” you said, faking a stern look on your face.
The elevator reached the floor, doors parting with a soft ding. Jeonghan took your hand again, as though not wanting to let you go for one second. “I didn’t think it would be that easy,” he said with a smirk. “But please tell me what I can do to get there faster.”
You laughed. “Well, first, you could give me a neck massage.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s starting strong?” he laughed.
“And take me for dinner at that restaurant you keep telling me you wanted to take me,” you said.
“You free tomorrow?” he said while opening the door for you.
He quickly pushed your back against the wall of the hall to his bedroom, locking his lips with yours in a quick, but passionate kiss. “I could pick you up at eight,” he said, his tone raw.
“I dunno. I’ll have to check my calendar,” you replied jokingly, putting your hands on his chest, feeling him up.
Jeonghan giggled into the kiss. “You do that,” he replied.
You smiled, letting him dominate the kiss. And Jeonghan quickly took on the task, kissing you vehemently, like putting every emotion he felt for you into a silent dance of his lips with yours. His hands slipped from your face, finding your waist to clutch on as his tongue rolled inside your mouth.
You moaned, feeling his tongue against yours sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands on his torso slipped further down, finding the hem of his clothes and slipping beneath his shirt, feeling his warm skin.
The muscle of his abdomen contracted softly. “Wait—” Jeonghan said, pausing mid-kiss with a smacking sound from his lips and yours. “Bathroom.”
You were only able to moan out a sound of affirmation. The door to the bathroom was a couple of steps away from you, and when you both got there, it was as though a lightbulb had been switched on in your mind. Jeonghan was intending to take you to the most secluded place in the house—far away from the baby’s room.
Jeonghan turned the lights on with one hand, undoing the button of his jeans with the other. You acted quickly—taking one step in his direction and grabbing the black t-shirt, enjoying the look in his eyes, the hunger, the lust and devotion in them.
The clothes came off quietly—hurriedly, while his gaze remained trained on your face. Jeonghan was quiet, unusually quiet as you worked your trembling fingers to undress him. “Do you want to undress me?” you mumbled, your tone sweet, but low.
He blinked slowly and nodded, biting his bottom lip. He first grabbed the hem of your tank top, hiking it up your torso while you raised your arms to help him in the process. His gaze shifted to your chest when your bralette came into view. “I like this,” he whispered, running the pad of his thumb along the pretty lace hem of the cup of the bralette. “You know I like this one.”
You smiled softly. “If you’re suggesting that I wore the bra you liked to break up with you in case something happened, then you’re sorely mistaken,” you replied smugly.
He matched your smile. “I’m glad,” he whispered, tilting his head to meet your lips with his. He kissed you once, softly at first, his lips creating a low smacking sound when he pulled back, but not far. “I’m glad you didn’t break up with me.”
“I guess all we needed was to talk it out,” you joked in between hurried, heated pecks. Then your breath hitched, Jeonghan’s cold fingers had found the clasp of your bralette.
Jeonghan sighed in amusement. “Who would’ve thought,” he replied with an obvious tone while his hands gently eased the straps off your shoulders, and took your bra off your chest.
You needed one second to take in the situation in—you had just gone through one of the worst moments of your life, thinking that you were breaking up with the man you had fallen head over heels for. And now to be back in his apartment, hiding in the bathroom with him so that whatever went down in there wouldn’t wake the baby up.
It felt strangely exciting.
He pushed the tip of his nose against yours softly, making you angle your face as he swiped the tip of his tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You parted your mouth, letting him in with a silent moan, right as his tongue found yours. He kissed you slowly, sensually, like he had been aching to do that for the longest time, but things just got in the way.
You understood then, all the intense gazes, the way he kept looking at your lips…
“From now on, I’ll tell you everything,” he told you suddenly, giving you small kisses as his hands came up to cup your face lovingly. “Every single thought that crosses my brain, you’ll know it.”
You laughed at that, the sound louder than anything else; it bounced off the walls in a denouncing manner.
“Quiet, baby,” Jeonghan uttered, but he let out a tiny giggle with you anyway. “Sohee might hear you.”
You couldn’t help it; your heart melted. “Sorry,” you whispered, but the smile didn’t wipe off your face.
He tilted his head to one side, smiling endearingly at you. “I have a feeling you like this,” he muttered, voice low like a purr.
You nodded, biting your lower lip as you pushed his boxers down.
“You like it when I tell you to be quiet,” he kept going, keeping his tone down.
His gaze dropped to your hands as you grabbed his cock and started stroking him with your hand wrapped around the underside of his shaft. He had a pretty cock, soft and veiny on his thick shaft, dark pink on its head.
Seeing your hand rolling up and down his erect cock made him swallow a grunt, but as you twisted your grip around him, the sounds he made grew louder. How easy it was for him to surrender under your touch caused a deep satisfaction to bloom in your chest. But more than that, arousal had already started to pulsate between your legs. You enjoyed giving him pleasure just as much as you enjoyed receiving it.
“I like everything you do, daddy,” you mumbled, your tone wrapped in honey.
“Fuck,” he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. He slipped his hands on your waist, clutching your skin tightly but not enough for it to burn. “You make me crazy.”
Your fist tightened around the crown of his cock, smearing the slick precum leaking from his slit. You loved pleasuring him, yes, but you needed him inside you—the thrumming between your legs ached to feel him. A cunning smile painted your lips, considering playing with him some more.
But Jeonghan caught that naughty smirk on your face.
In one motion, he pushed your back to the countertop of the sink. You gasped at the sudden movement, but before you could protest, he was already getting to one knee in front of you.
“If you make a single sound, I’ll stop,” he told you, his eyes darkened with need and lust.
And without waiting for your verbal response, his head dipped down, pressing his mouth to your mound. He kissed the top of your pussy first, pressing his lips to your skin tenderly, almost adoringly as his sweet brown eyes found yours, but briefly. You let out a ragged breath, parting your legs by half, sitting on the countertop. That gave him all the access to your slick folds, which he nipped and licked eagerly.
You instantly tensed, your hand finding his head and the other holding onto the basin like your life depended on it. Jeonghan knew you well; he knew how you liked being touched, how to eat your pussy out until you were a mess of tears and babbles. He knew how to make you cum. What he was doing now was just to tease you, to drive you crazy—licking the juices off your folds with pleased grunts from his part, loving the way you were always ready for him.
He grabbed your thighs, spreading you further apart so you stopped twitching and moving—and licked your pussy up and down slowly, thoroughly, only to tease you some more.
But then he finally wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it ever so lightly.
Your jaw went slack, and to not let a scream out, the hand that was previously clutching the basin flew and landed on the tap, accidentally pushing it open. The sound of water flowing freely was the perfect mask for your whiny moans, because Jeonghan had started to run his tongue flatly on top of your engorged clit, all the while his lips kept it trapped.
Thoughts ceased to exist. Nothing mattered to you except for the sweet waves of pleasure running uncontrollably through your veins, making your skin prickle and your nipples pebble. It was as though you were submerged in a pool of pleasure. Your breathing turned ragged, and your body tensed solely to let the orgasm build up—because Jeonghan wasn’t stopping, and apparently, he had forgotten about the no noise rule.
Or maybe he liked this too.
But then he lifted his face slightly, keeping his lips and tongue on the top of your pussy as his lust-filled gaze met yours. You sank your teeth on your bottom lip, using the hand that was cradling the back of his head to push his face against your cunt, begging him silently to continue.
Jeonghan eyed the basin swiftly, briefly. And that was all the command you needed. You pushed your thumb against the tap, shutting it off.
However, he continued being a tease. Or a menace. He dragged his tongue against your swollen clit, pushing the wet muscle against you, achingly slow.
Your eyebrows pinched. Please, you begged with just one look.
There was a smile that only showed in his eyes right before he resumed eating you out, sucking and licking your clit. And he only needed to do it for mere thirty seconds before your orgasm tore through your body. You forgot about pulling his hair, taking that hand against your own mouth to stop yourself from screaming.
The waves of pleasure running through you were beyond anything else you’ve felt before. He’d teased you for so long that you were very much ready for that orgasm, leaving you limp and trembling on the countertop.
Your chest was rising and falling dramatically. Embarrassed, you cast a look at Jeonghan, who was pushing himself onto his feet with a light but wicked grin on his face. He didn’t need to say anything, he knew that you’d liked that.
And you needed him now.
You grabbed his wrist, pulling so that he stood between your thighs. “Wait,” he whispered, sliding his hands on your thighs to bring you to a halt.
You instantly knew what he’d say. You shook your head. “I want you now,” you mumbled.
But he motioned a hand to the cabinet behind you, where you knew he kept one large box of condoms. He kept it there and would also restock the bedside table every night you stayed in.
You grabbed him by the hip, pulling him closer to your body. “Now,” you whined.
Jeonghan didn’t resist, didn’t question you.
His hands returned to your thighs, wrenching them further apart and positioning himself between them. Tilting your hips up, you angled yourself for him while still sitting back on the countertop—you knew he liked the view of his bare cock entering you, the view of your pussy stretched open with his girth.
So his head dipped, keeping his gaze where your body and his were about to join. He pushed his hips closer to yours, and you took his cock, guiding it to your sopping core. His mouth parted when the crown of his cock nuzzled your entrance, and a rush of excitement flowed through you when you felt him push inside.
Feeling him raw, skin on skin, was a delicious experience. Maybe it was more in your brain than in your body—because you swore you could cum right there and then, and he wasn’t even fully inside you.
You caught a glimpse of his face changing, of the pleasure taking over him quickly as he gave the first thrust, the muscle of his jaw twitched, and he immediately crushed his mouth with yours. With a muffled moan, he started moving, languidly at first, as though testing you.
“God, baby, you feel… amazing,” he whispered, pushing his hips with gentle motions. You believed that he wanted to take it slowly, so he wouldn’t finish fast and inside you. But then you heard how fucking wet you were. You could hear his cock slipping in and out of your walls, and Jeonghan wanted to enjoy it.
You cupped the side of his neck with one hand, motioning his gaze back to yours. You stared into his eyes for a long moment while he took your body slowly. Jeonghan blinked, his hands grabbing your thighs and motioning them around his hips, making it even harder for him to pull out.
It was a game you both had. And it made you feral. You loved it.
Jeonghan pushed his body flushed against yours, thrusting slowly, but deeply. “Like that?” he asked, although he didn’t need to—the look on your face told him enough.
But you nodded either way. You remembered what he said about telling you every single thought that crossed his brain, and you decided to give him some of your thoughts in return. “I love this,” you whispered. “I love feeling you like this.”
He let out a grunt, bowing his head to kiss your shoulder. “I know,” he sighed, his breath fanning your pert nipples. “I love it too.”
You slipped your hand from his neck and then locked your arms around his shoulders. All reason flew out of your brain, and then you knew you were just babbling—but you didn’t care. “The thought of you cumming inside me makes me cum,” you mumbled, uncaring of how pathetically sweet your tone sounded.
“Oh, fuck,” Jeonghan moaned loudly, the sound barely muffled by the crook of your neck, hips stuttering against yours for half a second.
You cupped his nape with your hand as he lifted his head to face you. “Yeah?” he hummed, his gaze taking you in. “Want me to pump you full of my cum?” he asked with a playful lilt.
You nodded, incapable of giving him a verbal reply. The question was crude; it sounded beyond dirty and sinful as it came out of his lips. This surely wasn’t the first time he spoke filthy things to you, but it was the first time he asked a question like this.
And you loved it.
The pacing of his thrusts quickened, but didn’t relent on their depth, keeping his body flush against yours. You could feel the film layer of sweat covering his skin, and for a moment, you couldn’t tell if you were sweating as well.
But you noticed that Jeonghan was forgetting about your game of keeping quiet. The pacing of his thrusts quickening also meant that the sounds of skin slapping against skin were harder to avoid. You thought of mentioning this to him, but it turned you on to see him lose control slowly.
“Babe,” you whispered, “be quiet.”
Jeonghan had to bite his smile back. And fuck, you loved this man. One of the things you loved about him was how sexy he could be. He pushed his hips against yours in a particularly thorough way that made you think he was trying to reach as deep into you as he could, making you whimper loudly.
“You be quiet,” he bit back, continuing to slip his cock in and out of your walls deliciously, making you see stars.
Your eyelids fell closed, but you could capture the image of him leaning his face closer to yours, feeling his breath on your lips before he kissed them. “Quiet or you won’t get to cum,” he said, his tone raspy, tired.
“Doesn’t that mean you won’t either?” you taunted, loving the way the pacing of his thrusts changed. You knew he was trying to draw out his own pleasure, make himself last longer.
Jeonghan laughed, the sound languid. “Remember how I got you to shut up that one time?” he asked, his tone still low, waning. And when the memory instantly flashed behind your closed lids, your walls tightened around him, drawing out a moan from him.
That time, he showed you a different side of himself. You were being louder than most nights, having fun by testing how far Jeonghan would go to make you submit to him.
“Yeah, you remember it,” he drawled, moving his face ever so slightly so he could join his lips with yours, all while still moving inside you painfully slow. He was edging you, and in turn, he was edging himself as well. “I thought you looked pretty with my cock inside your mouth,” he said.
You could’ve fallen over the edge in that second. A shameful whine came out of you, but you were too gone to even think of how pathetic you were sounding. You didn’t care. Having Jeonghan inside you, raw, and speaking filth to you felt so good. “I’ll be quiet, Hannie,” you told him. “Just don’t stop.”
With a grunt, Jeonghan obliged, changing the push and pull from a painfully slow one to a deliciously hard and deep one. You let out a silent moan, angling your hips to him so he could reach deeper inside you, so you could feel him completely.
Jeonghan cussed, his voice drowned out by the dull sound of skin hitting against skin. And it was then that you knew that this was his obsession—the quiet play, the bickering, the very obvious sounds of pleasure…
And you simply let him take you. The closer he grew to his orgasm, the closer you felt like giving in to the sweet pleasure dancing beneath your skin. Jeonghan parted his mouth, and you felt his hips buckling, his hands gripping your hips, his body flush and pushing against yours…
“Fuck, baby,” he said with a tired, but blissful drawl. “I’m close,” he said, his words heavy with meaning.
And you knew what he wanted to say. “Inside,” you moaned. “Do it inside me.”
Jeonghan gave you another one of those hazy smiles, tilting his head back so you could see his face, while pleasure took over the features of his beautiful face. “Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart?” he asked, looking like he was in between happy and tired.
You nodded. “Uh-huh,” you mewled, aware that the sounds bouncing off the walls of the bathroom had become louder. But you didn’t care, and Jeonghan didn’t seem to pay attention.
He pushed inside, slamming his front to yours, switching the grip on one side of your thigh to your hair at the base of your head. “Then give it to me,” he whispered, the sound raspy and full of greed. “Cum for me.”
You could’ve gone off simply from the way he was talking to you. But you needed to get it done, fast, now. You moved your body slightly, taking your hand in between his body and yours and started rubbing your clit, teasing it with fast swirls. “Daddy,” you moaned, louder. His thrusts were deep, hard, and so fucking good. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Jeonghan responded with a deep moan of his own. “Baby,” he gasped, releasing the grip he had on your hair, his hand sliding down your back as he dropped his forehead on your shoulder.
You closed your eyes, letting your orgasm barrel down your body, letting Jeonghan push his cum deep inside you with a couple of final, languid thrusts. His face was pressed tightly against the crook of your neck, making your skin prickle as he breathed hard against you.
The inner side of your thighs trembled quite dramatically as you tried holding onto him. Jeonghan let out a light, breathy giggle, right as you, too, were composing yourself, caressing his naked back with the tips of your fingers.
Then you felt his lips on the crook of your neck, your shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I’ll start a shower for you,” he croaked, lifting his head to direct a tender look at you. “I have to go check on Sohee.”
You nodded. “Okay,” you replied.
But there was a great reluctance in his following movements. Casting a look down your body, he carefully peeled his body back from yours, turning around to start the shower. You watched him as he walked back, only to plant a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose before grabbing his shorts and slipping through the bathroom door.
Once you found your limbs, you climbed off the counter and stepping before the shower. After testing the temperature, you stood below the stream, closing your eyes as you let the water wash down your face.
Your heart still felt heavy with the weight of a thousand questions and things that you still wanted to say. But one thing was finally clear to you.
The gentle sounds coming from the door announced he was back, right as you were halfway done washing up. When he stepped into the shower, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, his chest pressing against your back as he embraced you tightly. “Hey,” you mumbled, grabbing his forearm to squeeze him.
He inhaled deeply, pressing his lips to your hair. “Hey,” he replied, his tone low and raspy.
You turned around, moving on the shower floor so that the stream bathed his bare skin. “Let me,” you said, grabbing the soap and washcloth.
Jeonghan gave you a sheepish smile. “Oh, are you going to wash me?” he asked, his tone turning playful as you nodded at him silently, looking into his eyes. “Alright, just don’t give me those eyes, or we’ll never get this done.”
You laughed, the sound filling the bathroom. His glimmering eyes found your face, and you could see the minute his mind snapped with decision. Cupping your face in his hands, he pulled you in for a kiss full of passion and endearment. “I love you,” he mumbled, his tone so gentle that it made you think he was relieved to say it.
“I love you,” you replied, laughing softly before he pressed his lips against yours again.
“What’s that?” he asked in between pecks.
“Nothing,” you huffed as he moved to kiss your cheek. “You’re very confident now.”
He responded with a light laugh of his own. “I don’t care. I’m going to say it more,” he told you, sounding serious like a warning.
“Good,” you mumbled faintly, as he bent down to kiss your neck.
“Starting now,” he said, slipping his hands from your lower back to your rear, pressing you against his frame.
“Careful,” you replied. “You might start sounding desperate,” you teased.
You felt him smile against your skin. “Desperate, huh?” he asked, his voice low and in your ear.
“Well,” you said, tilting your head to give him more space for him to kiss, “you did just almost lose me.”
He nodded. “That put things in perspective.”
A sigh escaped your mouth when he kissed a particular sweet spot on your shoulder. “You’re going a bit overboard.”
“Mmm,” he sighed against your skin. hands squeezing your ass, but just softly, tenderly. “I love you.”
You bit back a smile. “See?”
“You’re the one who wanted me to say it.”
“I didn’t say you had to start saying it every minute,” you said, smiling despite yourself.
He pulled back, making you miss his lips on your skin instantly. “I can slow down.”
You bit your lower lip, nodding. “Please.”
But he showed you a charming half smile. “I love you.”
You laughed, trying to push his shoulder. “You’re a tease.”
A pause. The smirk wiped off his face as he exhaled softly. “And yet,” he said, his eyes glimmering with something you hadn’t seen before in him, “you’re still here.”
You watched his eyes for a moment, your pulse quickening. “That’s still under review,” you tried to joke, sounding out of breath.
If Jeonghan heard your tone, he made no comment about it; he played along. “What can I do to help my case?”
“I already told you,” you said, looking at his eyes and then his lips.
He nodded, leaning to kiss the tip of your nose. “What else?” he whispered.
You slipped your hands from his shoulders, down his torso, feeling his warm and wet skin. “Let’s go to that water park… all three of us together.”
He smiled before pressing his lips against yours. “You got it,” he replied.
Your heart shuddered. “Jeonghan?” you mumbled softly, feeling his hands all over your skin, exploring you, getting you aroused again.
“Yes?”
“Ask me to move in with you,” you said, tone falling to a mere whisper.
He pulled back, only to look into your eyes. He didn’t hesitate. “Move in with me.”
Your eyes glimmered, your whole body trembling with joy, relief, and love. You nodded. “I’ll move in with you.”
Jeonghan smiled. “Good,” he mumbled, content. “I love you.”
You groaned softly, rolling your eyes playfully. “Oh my god,” you said, loving the sound of his laughter bouncing off the walls. He leaned over, showering you with kisses again. “I love you more,” you replied shyly.
“Impossible,” he said.
› author's note pt. 2: hi hey hello!!
so, we're are so back. and jeonghan is coming back? hannieween is writing again? hell yeah
OKAY BUT I WANT TO TAKE A MOMENT TO ADDRESS SOMETHING HERE. apparently, tumblr has moved some things so that if someone comments, likes or reblogs a post that has been previously reblogged by someone else, i won't get to see those notifs. so for example, if you're not reblogging this from my page directly, i won't get to see it 😭 so if you guys comment, like, reblog, etc, i appreciate you all so much, i might not get to see it, but i appreciate it anyway!
⭐ ——— your boyfriend surprises you to show how much he loves you. kisses ensue.
[ contents! ] fluff, SO domestic, established relationship, boyfriend jeonghan, kissing, skinship, pet names: hannie (jeonghan's), angel (reader's), jeonghan is a flirty menace, suggestive towards the end (if you squint!!)
[ from lyric! ] new layout who dis?? anyways missing jeonghan TERRIBLY so have this! waiting for his discharge </3 enjoy :) song for this fic is love for you by loveli lori!
[ extra notes! ] for @kstrucknet @k-records. word count is 901.
"welcome home, hannie." you're smiling up at your boyfriend the moment he comes inside, tugging on his collar to pull him closer to you. "hey, angel."
he groans at the feeling of you swallowing his words up with a kiss, nearly dropping everything in his hands before you pull away. the smirk on his face is downright devilish, and he tugs his heeled boots off before speaking. "you know, i could get used to you kissing me the moment i walk through the door."
"yeah?" you echo with a teasing tone to your voice, tilting your head to the side as his free hand now cups your chin.
"mm," he hums half-heartedly, dark brown eyes softening before he remembers his mission. smiling like an excited child about to spill a secret, jeonghan comes in for another kiss, pecking you gently as he whispers, "close your eyes and wait here for a second."
"jeonghan, what are you doing?" you ask, smile already spreading across your features as jeonghan playfully furrows his eyebrows at you. "what are you doing? you're not doing what i told you."
"jeonghan—" you start again, and jeonghan cuts you off with a low "ah, ah, ah, angel," voice like velvet against your ears as he smiles cunningly.
"eyes closed. waiting here. right?" he questions again, and you begrudgingly do as he says, closing your eyes before you feel jeonghan brush your cheek and lips softly. he pecks your cheek once before slowly backing away, footsteps disappearing into what sounds like the kitchen as a shuffling of a bag begins.
impatient, you shuffle nervously at your spot in the foyer, heart beating quickly in your chest. jeonghan's cologne still lingers around you and on you in the best way possible, and you swear you can almost taste it, taste him, if you try hard enough—
"okay, angel. you ready?" jeonghan's velvety voice strokes your very being as his soft hand takes yours, and you smile at the sound of it, nodding. "as ready as i'll ever be."
jeonghan is careful in the way he leads you, gently tugging your hand in the right direction before your feet (and jeonghan) take you to the kitchen. a sweet aroma fills the whole room, and you smile subconsciously at the scent. jeonghan then moves behind you, firm hands on your shoulders as he guides you to a few steps away from the counter.
"i want you to open your eyes for me now." jeonghan whispers in your ear, hands sliding around your waist before you do what he says, eyes coming into contact with the sweetest thing you think you've ever seen.
a brown tissue paper-wrapped bouquet sits behind a plate of matching color cookies, with a handwritten note accompanying the whole piece. film strips of you and jeonghan sit tucked under the note, and a caramel-scented candle is lit, basking the whole room in the warm smell you smiled at moments earlier.
"hannie, what is all this?" you question, blush staning your cheeks as you turn around to meet your boyfriend. he's pleased with your reaction, brown eyes soft as he shrugs.
"i just wanted to let you know how much i love you. felt extra lovey-dovey today." jeonghan winks, and your lips pout at how soft jeonghan is making you feel.
"got you your favorite flowers and cookies, and while i waited for our film strips to be printed out, i wrote about how good you make me feel." jeonghan takes your hands in his, cocky smile now reduced to a shy, sweet one.
"i love you, angel. so much." he steps closer, tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear as he cups your cheek slowly afterwards. he's leaning down next, pressing his lips to yours as he pulls you against him.
you're swept away in his ministrations, hands flying to his shoulders and then his shoulder-length hair. you're running your hands through it, entangling yourself with him as his kisses move down your neck and collarbone.
"god, i'm so lucky to have you as mine. my angel. the one i get to fall asleep with and wake up to every morning. the one i get to kiss just like this." jeonghan mumbles against your hot skin before nipping at the bottom of your ear, kisses biting at the crook of your neck in the best way possible.
"hannie, i—" you're gasping for air now, and he hears you say his name, pulling away to give you time to recollect yourself. he's flustered himself, cheeks reddened and lips kiss-swollen as you smile at him.
"give me more, hannie. don't stop." you sigh out, and jeonghan breaks into the widest smile known to mankind, hands instantly going around your waist as he pulls you to him.
"i'm going to give you all of me..." he smiles, kissing you slowly once more before he stops to caress your waist with his touch. "after you try the cookies."
"yoon jeonghan!" you yell, all flushed and flustered as jeonghan laughs joyously, taking a cookie from the plate and handing it to you. "go on angel, try them. the faster you eat, the faster we can continue what we started."
"what you started," you mumble, nevertheless stuffing the cookie in your mouth while jeonghan smirks at you. "what we started."
you don't even bother to correct him as you finish chewing your cookie.
➼ you finish work early? he’s already waiting for you in his flashy new car outside
➼ you have a shit day? he’s already ran you a bath filled with rose petals and your favourite bath bomb
➼ he would take you to his celebrity-only parties and dinners, buying you a new dress and a pair of heels that match each time
➼ he’s buying every single plushie you want too
➼ “here, let me carry that for you baby”
➼ loves how you fold at the simple things like his hand on your thigh or around your waist
➼ definitely the type to place his hands on your thigh under the table, inching his fingers towards the hem of your skirt just to watch you squirm
➼ fucks you in the restaurant bathroom with his hand covering your mouth to muffle the moans that escape your lips
➼ “i bet you’ve always fantasised about me fucking you in public sweetheart”
➼ always pays for dinner because his “(my) pretty girl should never have to pay for anything”
➼ you would always want to pay him back by getting on your knees for him, but he’s very strict about him pleasuring you instead
➼ “babygirl, you don’t have to do that…but you could sit on my face so i can have my dessert”
➼ the first time you actually convince him to let you suck his cock, he nearly blacks out from how innocent you look - his length in your mouth, the outline of his cock protruding from your cheek, your teary eyes fixating on his facial expression to see if he likes it…he has to fight every muscle in his body to not face fuck you right there and then
➼ “mmm, yeah, just like that sweetheart—that’s it babygirl, use your tongue for me..”
a/n: this has been in my drafts for so long and i just finished it!! if u requested this ages ago, i am so sorry :(( i am going to attempt to switch between posting for skz and svt!!
The air was crisp, biting just enough to make you burrow deeper into the oversized scarf Jeonghan had insisted you wear.
You were standing in the middle of the glittering Winter Village, surrounded by the scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon.
Snow had fallen earlier, dusting the small market stalls and turning the whole area into a scene from a holiday movie.
"Are you warm enough?" Jeonghan asked, his voice soft as he turned his head, his breath misting in the cold. He was wearing a simple hat pulled low over his forehead, and his eyes, bright under the market lights, held a playful concern.
Before you could answer, he reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of your hair back under your hood.
Before you could answer, he reached out, his gloved fingers moving slowly, and gently tucked a stray strand of your hair back under your hood.
His thumb brushed your cheekbone, a completely unnecessary but electrifying contact that lingered for a breath too long.
Stop being weird, it’s Jeonghan, you scolded yourself internally. He’s literally done this a thousand times—pulled your hood up, adjusted your shirt, stolen food off your plate. That’s just… him. That’s the default setting for your best friend of ten years.
You felt a familiar heat rise in your face, hoping the cold wind would explain it away. You quickly looked toward the nearest stall, trying to break the intensity of his gaze.
"Do you know how much I hate you right now?" you mumbled, your voice muffled by the scarf as you rubbed your freezing hands together.
Jeonghan laughed, a clear, ringing sound that cut through the low hum of the market noise. "You love me, you liar,” he challenged, “And you love this," gesturing to the sparkling canopy of lights above you.
"The lights are great. You? I’m still debating," you said, reaching out to flatten a stubborn piece of hair sticking out from under his hat.
He immediately leaned into your touch, closing his eyes dramatically. He opened his eyes, now inches from yours, and his tone dropped to a mock-serious whisper. "Seriously, though, are you warm? If you start shivering, I’m putting you inside my coat, and I don't want the hassle."
"Relax, I’m wearing three layers.” You replied, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Speaking of hassle,” You quickly broke eye contact, trying to forget that moment where his thumb brushed your cheek. “You’re the one who’s going to have a bad time if we don't get to those churros. I'm hitting empty."
"The belly calls." Jeonghan dropped the serious act and gave you a playful shove, immediately looping his arm around your shoulders in a casual, familiar sprawl. He pointed a long finger toward a distant, brightly lit booth with a line snaking out of it. "There they are. The legendary Chocolate Cream Churros."
"Okay, now you're talking," you conceded, gladly letting him pull you along.
After a short wait, Jeonghan handed you a bag of warm, cinnamon-sugar churros and a small cup of thick, white dipping cream.
The heat from the cup hits your palms instantly, and your stomach practically sings heavenly delight.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, staring at the sight of whipped cream like it was a religious experience. “This looks illegal.”
“Take it slow,” he murmured, leaning in so close you could feel his breath, “You always underestimate how much filling there is.”
“I do not,” you said, already taking a bite with defiant confidence.
He took a slow, confident bite of his own, then immediately started laughing.
Your head snapped up. “What?”
He gestured vaguely toward his own mouth.
"Don’t point, tell me where it is," you grumbled, trying to wipe your upper lip with the back of your hand, which only succeeded in smearing the white cream further across your cheek.
“Okay, no, stop,” he said, catching your wrist before you could smear it further. “You’re making it worse.” Jeonghan laughed harder, a clear, ringing sound. He set his churro bag down on a nearby ledge.
"Hold still," he instructed.
This is fine. This is normal, you chanted internally. He always cleans up your messes.
He reached out, his hand bare this time, and his thumb gently wiped the corner of your mouth. The contact was brief, but his skin was warm against the coldness of yours.
His thumb lingered for just a second, his eyes on the cream he’d collected. He pulled his hand back, still looking directly at you, then slowly, casually brought his thumb up to his own mouth and licked the excess cream away.
Your breath hitched. Wait. He didn't just...The entire motion was shockingly intimate, turning the simple act of cleaning your face into something that felt entirely too personal.
"Waste not, want not," he announced, his voice totally steady, though the look in his eyes was entirely too pleased with the flustered mess he'd just created.
You could feel your face burn, a blush spreading beneath your scarf hot enough to melt the remaining snow. You snatched a churro from the bag and pointed it at him.
"You're gross," you finally managed, the words coming out as a shaky whisper.
Jeonghan just smiled, a sweet, triumphant grin that crinkled the corner of his eyes. He leaned in, just close enough for you to smell the cinnamon on his breath.
"I know," he replied, his voice dropping to a low, confident drawl. "But I'm pretty enough that you'll forget it by the time we hit the rink."
“You’re impossible”. You retorted, giving him a hard, familiar nudge with your elbow.
–
After tying your skates and doing your best to ignore the sight of Jeonghan gliding effortlessly toward the center—the nerve of this so-called beginner—you pushed off the boards.
The slickness hit you immediately. Your ankle wobbled, your arms flailed, and you instantly grabbed the railing, your fingers gripping the wood as if it were the only thing keeping you from being swallowed by the ice.
Jeonghan circled back, a picture of infuriating grace, his hands tucked nonchalantly into his pockets.
“Are you coming, or are you just going to admire the ice?” He called out, his voice bright and teasing.
"I’m just making sure I don't break every bone in my body," you muttered, managing one terrified, half-inch step.
He shook his head, pushing off the boards to glide over to you. His skates made that soft, satisfying shhh sound as he moved. He stopped right beside you, his height making him tower over your hunched form.
"Just trust me, okay? You're too stiff. Bend your knees."
The casual reassurance felt like a challenge, but you knew him well enough to know he was just excited. He reached out and gently took your hand, lacing your fingers with his own. His palm, still slightly warm from the churro cup, was a secure anchor against your cold, shaky skin.
You took a deep, shaky breath, forcing your feet to move with his momentum.
He didn't stop, but began to glide backward, pulling you along. You started taking tentative steps, your legs moving in a wobbly, rhythmic stride that made you feel like a newborn giraffe. You held onto his hand desperately, laughing breathlessly every time you nearly lost your balance. Jeonghan just smiled, effortlessly towing you around the quiet rink.
"I hate you," you gasped, adrenaline making your cheeks flush.
"This is fun!" he countered, his own face lit up with pure, unadulterated enjoyment. " Look, you're doing great!"
A few smooth laps went by, your movements slowly becoming less jerky, more certain. You were keeping up, mostly because Jeonghan was the perfect counterbalance. You started to relax, lifting your chin enough to look at him.
His eyes found yours, and the playful teasing was gone, replaced by a focused, intent warmth that made your stomach flip.
You were halfway through a joke about his "beginner's luck" when, at that exact moment, your skate caught a small ridge of ice left by the ice resurfacer.
You didn't have time to process it; the ice shot out from under you, and you let out a gasp as you went tumbling forward, dragging Jeonghan’s hand with you.
He didn't let go. Instead, with a sharp intake of breath and a powerful, quick twist, he shifted his weight, keeping his feet firmly beneath him while using his free arm to pull you toward him.
You didn't fall on the ice; you fell into him.
You ended up pressed against the thick wool of his coat, your faces nearly touching. His chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your ear as he took in a startled breath. His arms were locked around your waist, holding you upright and steady.
For a moment, all the air left your lungs, replaced by the scent of his winter cologne and the sharp cold of the rink. Then, the shock broke, and you burst into helpless laughter.
"You said you wouldn't let me fall!" you wheezed, clutching his coat.
Jeonghan’s laugh followed, a loud, clear sound that echoed off the empty stands. He didn’t release you; he simply held you steady while shaking with amusement.
“I didn’t! I caught you!” he corrected, his voice full of laughter. He loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to tilt your head up, his eyes now crinkled with mirth.
You grinned up at him, shaking your head. “You are the worst skating teacher ever!”
He kept you suspended in his hold, just enjoying the moment. His smile slowly softened, becoming less about the joke and more about the closeness. The shift was almost imperceptible, but the easy laughter faded as his eyes held yours.
His hands, still firmly around your waist, tightened ever so slightly, and the easygoing friend vanished, replaced by the intense look you’d seen back at the churro stand.
“Though I have to admit,” he added, his voice dropping to that low, confident drawl that always made your heart stutter, “This does put us in a very… convenient position, doesn’t it?”
The laughter instantly died in your throat. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the steady, rhythmic thump-thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Your mind was screaming: Abort! Abort! This level of intensity was territory reserved for strangers, not your platonic, long-term best friend. The weight of your decade-long "friendship" label pressed down on the moment.
You forced a nervous, slightly strained laugh, pushing back just enough to create a sliver of space, but his arms remained a solid, unmoving barrier around you.
"Alright, Mr." you deflected, trying to inject your voice with the lighthearted teasing you usually shared. "Are you going to keep holding me, or are we actually going to skate? I need to redeem myself from that embarrassment."
He didn't move. His smile slowly softened, his unwavering gaze held nothing but fondness. He didn't move his hands from your waist; in fact, you felt his grip adjust, subtly pulling you even closer so your skates nudged his.
“I can hold you for as long as you need,” he murmured, his voice incredibly low and steady. He didn't look desperate or demanding; he just looked honest.
He held you still, the only movement the gentle swaying of your two bodies balancing on the thin blades. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant whir of the ventilation and the tinny music.
He slowly lifted one hand from your waist and used his thumb to carefully push your hood back, revealing your face fully. His fingers then settled in your hair at the base of your skull, a tender, possessive gesture. He didn't ask a question about your feelings; he just stated a fact.
“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” he whispered, his eyes searching every inch of your face, his voice barely audible.
The question hit you with the force of an actual confession. He had told you—once, maybe twice, when you were dressing up for a mutual friend's party, or right after you got a haircut.
It was always casual, a quick, friendly observation. But this... this was different. This was sincere, vulnerable, and loaded with the weight of everything unsaid.
You felt your cheeks heat up, a blush starting at your collarbone and rising your neck. You could only nod your head slowly, a minute movement. Yes, you have. But never like this.
He smiled, a slow, knowing gesture, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, I haven't said it enough." He paused, letting the silence stretch, his thumb gently stroking the skin behind your ear.
"This is the part where you say we're just friends," he murmured, his voice low, almost sad, acknowledging the barrier without forcing it.
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. He wasn't demanding anything; he was simply laying out the truth and waiting for you to tell him to stop. That vulnerability was what finally broke your resistance.
"I can't," you whispered, the word tight in your throat. You didn't need to elaborate. He knew what you meant—you couldn't say the words that would push him away.
A profound relief washed over his face, sharp and immediate. He looked down at your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression utterly serious.
He didn't move fast. Very slowly, deliberately, he closed the final distance between you, meeting your lips with a soft, careful pressure. It was tentative at first, a moment of testing the new territory.
Then, his hand tightened in your hair, and his mouth moved against yours with a certainty that erased every doubt. His grip around your waist pulled you securely against him, cementing the moment.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead gently against yours. He was smiling, but it was a quiet, private expression of pure satisfaction.
"I've wanted to do that for a ridiculous amount of time," he confessed, his voice slightly rough and incredibly honest.
You let out a soft, giddy laugh that felt like sunshine breaking through the clouds. It was the most honest, least clumsy thing that had happened to you all night.
“Me too,” you admitted, your cheeks aching from the intensity of the blush and the pure happiness bubbling up inside you.
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