Heyyy!I I love your whc works and enjoyed them all, so I decided to request one myself. Can you please write something si-eun and a draf(also mute) reader who is also Hu-min's sister?like something fluff,or just howeve you like,ty for your hard work!<33
Quietly Yours
Pairing: Park Si-eun x Deaf/Mute!Reader (Hu-min’s younger sister)
Genre: Fluff, slow-burn, soft comfort
Length: ~3.5k words
Warnings: Mentions of past bullying (light), overprotective Hu-min, KSL (Korean Sign Language) references
Hu-min had always been too protective.
Si-eun knew this already.
He’d seen him chase down entire gangs in defense of his classmates, so it made sense that Hu-min would be even worse about his little sister.
Especially one who couldn't speak. Especially one who couldn’t hear a word they said.
And yet — when Si-eun first saw her, sitting on the edge of the school rooftop with her sketchpad resting gently in her lap, he forgot all about that.
She wasn’t scary. She wasn’t loud.
She was calm.
And she was sketching him.
He only noticed because when he got closer, her fingers flinched in surprise and tried to turn the page, cheeks turning red in a way that felt... different from fear.
He sat down beside her, careful not to make a sound. He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong to disturb the silence she lived in. It felt wrong to interrupt.
So he didn’t.
He just waited — and eventually, she peeked at him again. And smiled.
It became a routine.
When she showed up, he stayed.
She never spoke, never waved, but sometimes she’d smile or offer a cookie from her pocket, or tap her sketchbook and scribble something for him to read.
“You have sad eyes.”
Then later:
“You don’t look sad when you’re around me.”
He didn’t know what to say to that — didn’t know if he could say anything. But something about the softness in her gaze made his chest feel full and tight all at once.
Si-eun had always struggled to connect with people.
She didn’t seem to mind that.
“Are you learning sign language?”
Hu-min frowned, arms crossed as he watched Si-eun sitting at the corner of the library with an open KSL beginner’s book and his phone balanced on one knee.
Si-eun blinked slowly. “...No.”
Hu-min raised a brow.
“I’m just... trying.”
“Trying what?”
“To not be a total idiot around your sister,” he muttered.
Hu-min looked like he was calculating a million things at once, then he sighed. “She likes you, you know.”
Si-eun’s head snapped up.
“She watches you like you hung the damn moon. It’s annoying.”
Si-eun blinked.
Hu-min narrowed his eyes. “But if you hurt her—”
“I won’t.”
His voice was sharp and certain. And for once, Si-eun didn’t regret how fast he’d said it.
Their first “conversation” in sign was clumsy.
He spelled out every word like he was holding a toddler’s crayon, and half his movements were wrong, but she watched him so intently — her eyes glowing with something close to pride.
Then she signed back:
“You practiced.”
Si-eun nodded. “For you.”
Her cheeks turned pink. Her fingers fumbled for a second.
Then:
“I like talking to you.”
He didn’t know how to sign it back, so he just whispered, “Me too.”
She never asked him to say much.
She just wanted him there — and Si-eun realized, over time, that he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted peace and quiet before.
It wasn’t just that she didn’t expect him to fill silences.
It was that she made the silence feel safe.
When she sat next to him, the world wasn’t so loud.
It happened one rainy afternoon.
She’d brought him a drawing again — a sketch of him sitting under the rooftop shelter with his head leaned back and eyes closed, peaceful for once.
At the bottom, she’d signed her name.
And beneath that, something else.
He traced it with his thumb.
“I feel less broken around you.”
Si-eun looked up, heart pounding. She wasn’t looking at him. She was nervously fiddling with the corner of her sleeve, trying to pretend she hadn’t just exposed her whole heart on a scrap of paper.
He didn’t think.
He just reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.
Her head snapped up.
Si-eun smiled — that quiet, rare kind of smile he only gave to her.
Then he signed:
“You were never broken.”
“But if you were… I’d stay anyway.”
Her hands shook a little as she signed back:
“Even if I can’t speak?”
He nodded.
Then, very slowly, he leaned closer, heart hammering.
His lips brushed hers in the softest kiss he’d ever given anyone.
And when he pulled away, he cupped her cheek gently and said, “You don’t need words. You’ve already said everything I needed to hear.”
Your pale fingers barely grazed the bag of chips on the top shelf before Si-eun’s voice cut through the silence like a knife:
“Don’t climb the counter.”
You froze, mid-scramble, halfway up the kitchen cabinet.
“How did you even see me?” you huffed, twisting to glare at him. “You were in your room.”
“I have ears,” he said flatly, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the chips for you. He placed them in your hands without fanfare.
“You’re so annoying.”
“You’re short.”
“Genetic condition, dumbass—”
“I know. I meant your patience. That’s what’s short.”
You snorted. Okay, that one was good.
You were born with albinism—white hair, pale skin, sensitive eyes—and a whole lot of drama from kids who didn’t understand why you looked like a human snowflake. Si-eun had been the first to punch someone over it when you were eight. He didn't even let you thank him.
“You’re not weird,” he’d muttered, tugging his bloody knuckles into his hoodie. “You’re you. And people suck.”
It was the closest thing to affection he ever said out loud back then.
Now?
He just grumbled when you stole his hoodie, blinked slowly when you spilled ramen all over his notes, and silently untangled your hair when you cried because it got too matted again from sleeping weird.
Si-eun had his own shadows. His own anger. But he never took it out on you. You were… off-limits.
Even to himself.
“Hey.” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Robot .”
He blinked. “What?”
You narrowed your pinkish eyes at him from across the living room. “You’re staring at me.”
“You’re eating ramen with a fork. Again.”
“It’s easier!”
“It’s illegal.”
“...You wanna fight me over it?”
He sighed through his nose like a disappointed old man. “I would win.”
“I’m gonna tell Suho you said that.”
“…Never mind.”
You smirked.
Later that night, when the lights were dim and your eyes hurt (screens sucked after dark), Si-eun found you curled up on the couch like a snowball. You’d fallen asleep with your fuzzy hood pulled over your head and his textbook open on your chest.
He stood there for a long time.
Just staring.
Then, slowly, quietly, he bent down and lifted the book off you.
You stirred.
“…Si-eun?” you mumbled sleepily.
He froze. You rubbed your eye, squinting up at him with a lazy little grin.
“Thanks for always… y’know. Protecting me.”
He cleared his throat. “Go back to sleep.”
But before he could step away, you grabbed his sleeve. "Wait."
“…What now.”
You stuck your tongue out.
“You’re my favorite light mode demon.”
Si-eun stared.
“You’re… You’re the reason people turn on dark mode.”
You burst into laughter.
He didn’t smile.
But he did sit on the floor next to you. Letting your sleepy head fall onto his shoulder like it belonged there.
Because it did.
Extra Scene:
Beomseok: “She’s really pale.”
Si-eun: “Don’t say it like that.”
Beomseok: “No—I mean, she’s cool! She looks like a snow elf. Or, like, a K-pop vampire.”
Y/N: “I am a vampire. I’ll eat your soul.”
Beomseok: 😳
Suho, whispering to Si-eun: “She’s more terrifying than you.”
The first time he hit you, it was in the stairwell behind Building C. You’d bumped into him by accident — or maybe not. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. The slap echoed louder than your gasp.
The second time, it was worse. He shoved you into a locker so hard your shoulder throbbed for two days.
By the third week of school, everyone knew: You were Han Su-gang’s target.
He tripped you in the hallway. He yanked your chair from under you in class. He forced you to clean his sneakers, and when you hesitated, he grabbed the back of your neck and pushed your face toward the floor.
No one helped. No one ever helped.
So you stopped reacting.
It was a Wednesday afternoon when you made your choice.
You passed him in the hallway without flinching. No flinch. No fear. You didn’t even look at him.
He stared at you as you walked past, ignoring the low laughter of his friends.
And then he snapped.
Rough fingers twisted in your hair and yanked you backwards. You screamed, hand flying to your scalp, but he didn’t let go. He dragged you across the floor like you were weightless.
The hallway filled with gasps and muffled laughter. Phones came out. No one stepped in. Not a teacher, not a student, not a soul.
“Think you can ignore me?” he sneered, eyes wild, sweat glistening on his brow. “You think you’re something now?”
He finally let go, and your head slammed against the tile. The lights above you spun.
You didn’t cry.
You just got up. Quiet. Shaky. Bleeding from your elbow, hair matted with dust.
You walked away.
That night, he followed you.
He hadn’t planned to. Something about the blankness in your eyes wouldn’t leave him alone. He told himself he just wanted to keep the fun going.
But when he saw you cross the street into a neighborhood full of broken fences and cracked windows, his steps slowed.
You unlocked the gate of a run-down building and walked up three flights of stairs.
He watched through the broken window.
Inside: chaos.
Three little kids. A crying toddler, a boy doing homework on the floor, and a girl stirring a pot on the stove.
And you — dropping your bag, wiping your face, rolling up your sleeves.
He watched you hand the little girl some coins and whisper something. You pulled out a shirt from a plastic bag, clearly from your shift at the diner. The toddler clung to your leg.
The room was small. Too small. The wallpaper peeled, and the ceiling leaked.
There were no parents.
No help.
Only you.
Han Su-gang didn’t move for a long time.
His fists were clenched, but not in anger. Not this time.
What the hell had he been doing?
You weren’t weak. You weren’t “easy prey.”
You were stronger than anyone he’d ever met. Stronger than him.
He didn’t go to school the next day.
No reason, no call. He just didn’t show up.
Not that you cared.
You were too busy rushing from your morning shift to your first class. Too busy worrying about the gas bill. Too busy to notice the way your classmates were still whispering about yesterday. Or the way some of them looked at you with pity for the first time instead of amusement.
Your elbow was bruised. Your scalp burned every time you ran your fingers through it.
But you were still standing.
When Su-gang came back, he didn’t speak to anyone.
He didn’t laugh. Didn’t shout. He sat in the back of class, staring at your desk. Quiet. Cold.
You pretended not to notice. You were used to pretending.
But you felt it. The way the air shifted when he walked into the room. The way he didn’t try to trip you in the hallway. The way his friends glanced at him, confused.
It was worse than before.
Because now it wasn’t loud.
It was silent.
He was watching you.
Not with hate.
But with something else.
Three days later.
You stayed after school to clean the gym. Detention, again. They said you’d “disrupted the environment” by letting yourself be dragged in the hallway.
As if you had done something wrong.
You were mopping up a spill by the bleachers when the door creaked open.
You didn’t look up.
Didn’t have to.
You knew who it was.
He stood there for a minute. Hands in his pockets. Breathing low and even.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he muttered.
You paused, staring at the mop water. “What would I say?”
He walked closer. Too close.
“I could’ve gone to jail,” he said, voice hard but not cruel. “I dragged you across the floor. In front of everyone. And you just walked away.”
You kept your back to him.
“I’ve had worse,” you said softly.
He flinched.
He actually flinched.
“Your mom and dad,” he said. “They’re gone.”
You stiffened. Turned.
His face was unreadable.
“How do you know that?” you asked, voice sharp.
“I followed you.”
“You—what the f—”
“I didn’t mean to—” He rubbed his neck, frustrated. “I didn’t know. You got three siblings. You’re feeding them. Working at the fried chicken spot, the gas station, and the laundry mat. And you still come to school.”
You stared at him, heart pounding.
“Why are you saying this?”
“I’m not apologizing.”
You scoffed. “Of course you’re not.”
“I just—” He stopped. Looked down. For once, he looked… human. “You didn’t cry. That day. When I dragged you.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I would’ve.”
Silence.
Then:
“Don’t follow me home again,” you said quietly. “If you’re not gonna help, leave me alone.”
You walked past him with the mop bucket.
And for the first time in his life, Han Su-gang stepped aside.
The next week, things started to change.
Not with you — no, you were still tired, still working, still showing up to school with bags under your eyes and that same stiff walk from healing bruises.
But he changed.
Han Su-gang didn’t trip anyone in the hall.
He didn’t speak unless spoken to.
He punched a senior who laughed about “the broke girl raising orphans.”
And when his friends joked about you behind your back, he didn’t join in.
He just said, flatly, “Shut the fuck up.”
They looked at him like he’d lost his mind.
maybe he had.
You noticed when the vending machine dropped an extra sandwich one day — and no one else was around.
You noticed when your youngest sister came home with a warm coat from a “school donation” that didn’t exist last week.
You noticed the envelope of cash slipped under your front door with no name, no note, no explanation.
You weren’t stupid.
You knew it was him.
So you waited.
Two nights later.
You caught him again. Outside your building. Hoodie on, hood up, pacing.
“You following me again?” you called from across the street.
He stopped.
Didn’t run. Didn’t deny it.
Just stared.
You walked up to him slowly, arms crossed, face unreadable.
“You think if you sneak around and toss money at me, it’ll make up for what you did?”
“I’m not—” He looked frustrated. “I’m not trying to make up for it. I just—didn’t know. Back then.”
“That I was a human being?”
He flinched again. Just like last time.
“You beat me in front of the whole school. Humiliated me. Made me feel small every damn day. And now you’re out here playing ghost charity?”
His voice was quiet. “I don’t know what else to do.”
You laughed — but it wasn’t kind.
“You could start by not acting like you deserve forgiveness.”
Silence.
Cold wind moved through the empty street.
“I don’t,” he said eventually. “I know that.”
You tilted your head. “So what do you want from me?”
He hesitated. Then, honestly:
“I don’t know. I just—can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About how you’re doing all this alone.”
“I’ve been alone,” you said. “Long before you ever laid hands on me.”
He didn’t argue.
And that scared you more than anything else.
From that night on, he kept his distance.
But not completely.
You saw him. Watching. Walking past the gas station where you worked. Sitting on the bleachers during your last class. Always nearby, never close.
And once — just once — you came home to find your broken stove replaced.
No note. No name.
Just guilt. And silence.
It happened during lunch.
Your brother, Taejoon — 9 years old, too small for his age — got shoved down the stairs by an older student during recess. Something stupid. A ball bounced, he didn’t throw it back fast enough, and the other kid pushed him.
You found out when a teacher came into your class mid-period.
“Emergency,” she said, and the look on her face made your chest tighten.
By the time you got to the nurse’s office, Taejoon was crying into a cold compress, his lip bleeding and one wrist swelling.
“What happened?” you demanded.
The nurse looked uncomfortable. “We called emergency contacts, but… there’s no one listed but you.”
Of course. Because you were the only one.
You didn’t cry.
You helped him into the car when the ambulance came.
You sat next to him at the hospital while they checked for a fracture.
You signed the forms.
And when the doctor asked why your parents weren’t there, you calmly said:
“They’re dead.”
Two days later, Child Protective Services called the school.
Apparently, someone reported that a minor was raising three younger siblings alone in a barely livable apartment.
You knew what that meant.
They wanted to separate you.
Put your brothers and sister in different foster homes.
Rip the only thing you had left apart.
You stormed out of class and ran to the principal’s office.
You were already yelling when you slammed the door open. “I take care of them! I work! They’re fed, they’re clothed—what more do you want from me?!”
The counselor blinked. “Y/N, calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” you shouted, chest heaving. “You think throwing them into the system is better than being with their sister?!”
That’s when another voice cut in, low and cool:
“She’s right.”
You froze.
Turned.
Han Su-gang.
Standing just inside the door.
Hands in his pockets. Expression unreadable.
“What are you doing here?” you snapped.
“I heard,” he said simply. “I’m here because you’re not doing this alone.”
The principal blinked. “Su-gang, this doesn’t concern you—”
“I’m her witness,” he said, already pulling a chair and sitting down like it was his own damn office. “She’s not lying. She works three jobs. I’ve seen her walk her siblings to school before coming here. They’re clean, respectful, smart. You take them away, you’re punishing the wrong person.”
You stared at him.
Mouth dry. Heart confused. Chest tight.
Later that day.
You confronted him in the hallway. No one else around.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
“Why?”
He looked at you, tired and distant.
“Because no one ever stood up for me either.”
You swallowed hard. “That doesn’t mean you get to rewrite everything you did to me.”
“I know.”
He stepped back. “But if I can stop one more thing from hurting you, I will.”
You looked at him then.
Really looked.
Not the violent, cocky thug everyone feared.
Not the broken boy trying to patch guilt with silent favors.
Just a person.
Messed up. Cold. Twisted. But real.
And you hated that part of you — a very small part — didn’t know how to feel about that.
It started small, like most violations.
You found him outside your job again — not lurking, just… leaning against a wall, arms crossed, eyes on you like it was routine.
You ignored him.
Then he walked one of your brothers to school.
Then your sister mentioned “Su-gang” bought her a stuffed animal.
Then the school counselor said:
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend helping at home. That’ll really support your case.”
Your mouth went dry.
“What boyfriend?”
“Oh, Han Su-gang. He said you two were—”
You were already out of the room.
You found him behind the gym.
He wasn’t even surprised to see you.
“You told them we were dating?” you hissed.
He didn’t blink. “They needed a reason not to split you up. That’s what worked.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
He looked at you, jaw tense. “They’re still with you, aren’t they?”
“That doesn’t make it okay!” you snapped. “You don’t own me, Su-gang!”
Silence.
Then he said it — soft, terrifyingly honest:
“I know. But I’m scared that if I ask, you’ll say no.”
Your stomach twisted.
Because he was right.
Two days later, he disappeared.
No one saw him after school.
Not in the cafeteria. Not outside the gate. Not on the corner you started expecting to see him at.
And for the first time in months, you felt something weirdly close to… panic.
You called his name in the hallway. Nothing.
Checked behind the gym. Empty.
And then someone told you — just casually, like it didn’t matter —
“Oh, Su-gang got into it with a senior. Broke his nose, but the guy had a knife. Pretty sure Su-gang’s in the hospital.”
Your blood went cold.
The room was too white. The bed too still.
He looked smaller lying there, hooked up to monitors. Bandaged shoulder. Split lip. Black eye.
You sat down beside the bed.
And said nothing.
For a long time.
Then, barely above a whisper:
“You could’ve died.”
He didn’t open his eyes. But his voice was hoarse and dry when he said:
“Would it have made it easier for you?”
You blinked.
“What?”
“If I was gone. You’d be safe. The guilt would be gone. The fear.”
You leaned forward. Voice shaking. “Don’t you dare say that.”
“Why not?” he asked. “You’re the only thing I care about, and all I ever did was ruin your life.”
You stared at him.
Not the bully. Not the ghost who followed you home. Not the violent boy who dragged you through a hallway.
But the human underneath all of that.
The one who was just now realizing how broken he actually was.
You took a shaky breath.
“Then stop doing it again,” you said. “Stop helping without asking. Stop showing up like you’re my savior. If you want to fix anything—let me choose.”
Could you please do a scenario where the reader and seongje would have a child
Title: “Small Hands, Big Heart”
He never planned on having a family. Never thought he deserved one. But then you smiled at him, and a year later, your daughter held his pinky in her tiny fist and made him believe in softness.
“You’re really gonna raise a kid with him?”
“Y/N, he gets into fights for fun.”
“People don’t change just because they knock someone up.”
But what they didn’t know—what they’d never understand—is that Seong-je had changed long before the pregnancy test turned positive.
He changed the moment you smiled at him like he wasn’t broken. Like his fists weren’t the only part of him that had ever mattered.
You—soft-spoken, gentle, all sunshine and warm hands—were the one person who never flinched when he came near.
And he fell. Hard.
So by the time you said, “I’m pregnant,” hands trembling, eyes wide, scared out of your mind—
He didn’t run.
He knelt.
Right in front of you, hands on your hips, forehead pressed to your belly.
“You’re serious?” he asked, voice cracked.
You nodded. “I’m scared, Seong-je.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Not if it’s with you.”
You were soft through the whole pregnancy—sleepy, gentle, humming while folding tiny onesies and resting your head on his chest every night.
Seong-je was not.
He was terrifying.
He growled at anyone who got too close to your belly. Physically shoved men out of your way on crowded sidewalks. Glared down nurses and even the poor, sweet OBGYN who tried to tell you, “You might experience some pain during labor.”
“She’s not in pain,” he snapped.
“She’s going to give birth,” the doctor blinked.
“I’ll take the pain instead,” Seong-je said darkly. “She doesn’t deserve it.”
You laughed softly, rubbing his shoulder. “Baby, that’s not how biology works.”
He didn’t care.
He wanted to protect you—even from nature.
The day your daughter was born, Seong-je was quieter than you’d ever seen him.
Not angry. Not panicked.
Just quiet.
His jaw tight. Hands shaking. Sitting beside your hospital bed in a daze while you screamed through contractions. Not knowing how to help. Not knowing how to breathe.
He didn’t move until the doctor finally said, “It’s a girl.”
And then he stood. Slowly. Like in a dream.
And when they placed her in your arms, tiny and red and squirming—
You saw the moment he fell in love all over again.
She was so small.
Nothing like him. Nothing like the boy who used to throw punches harder than grown men. She was fragile and pink and soft like you. Her hair was dark. Her nose was small. Her fingers curled when he leaned over you and touched her.
And then she grabbed his pinky.
Seong-je made a sound you’d never heard from him before.
Like a breath. Like a sob.
“Can I hold her?” he asked, voice low and rough.
You nodded and gently passed her into his arms.
He looked terrified. Hands braced like she might crumble in his grip. But she didn’t.
She fit.
Like she’d always belonged there.
“Hi,” he whispered. “I’m your appa.”
She hiccuped.
And he smiled.
Smiled—big, full, crinkly-eyed and raw like his heart had finally stopped fighting.
“Y/N,” he said, looking at you. “She’s... perfect.”
“She looks like you,” you said.
“No. She looks like you. That’s why she’s beautiful.”
You cried. Just a little.
So did he.
A YEAR LATER
“Appaaaaaaa!”
The little voice echoed down the hallway, fast and giggly and growing louder by the second.
Seong-je barely looked up from where he was washing strawberries. “You’re gonna slip again.”
“No, I’m not!” came the squeal.
A second later—
Thud.
You peeked around the corner.
“Baby?” you called, setting down your book. “Did she fall?”
“She’s fine,” Seong-je said, sighing like he hadn’t just dropped the bowl of strawberries and rushed into the hallway with panic in his eyes.
Your one-year-old was sitting on the floor with a dramatic pout and watery eyes.
Seong-je knelt. “Where’d it hurt?”
She pointed at her elbow.
He kissed it. “All better?”
“Better,” she sniffled, latching onto him like a koala.
You watched from the doorway, heart full, hiding your grin.
You knew this version of him was only yours.
To the rest of the world, he was still intimidating. Quiet. Brooding. Still kept a baseball bat in the trunk of his car just in case. Still glared at men who looked too long at you when you were out shopping with a baby on your hip.
But at home?
He knelt for his daughter when she fell.
He cut strawberries into heart shapes because she liked them “cuuute like mama.”
He laid with her every night until she fell asleep—one big hand cradling her tiny back.
She’d started calling him her “giant.”
And you believed her.
Because he held her like she was the whole world.
Some nights, when she was asleep and you were curled in his lap on the couch, he’d run his fingers down your spine and say:
“I was so scared I’d fuck it all up.”
“You haven’t,” you’d whisper.
“I think I love her more than I knew I could love anything.”
You’d kiss his jaw. “You’re a good father.”
And he’d whisper it back, every time:
“I wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for you.”
A FEW YEARS LATER
Your daughter stood in the middle of the park, hands on her hips, furious at a little boy who had pushed her.
“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, her voice echoing.
The boy looked stunned.
You watched from the bench, raising a brow as Seong-je sipped his iced coffee beside you.
“Your DNA’s showing,” you said dryly.
“She did good,” he replied, deadpan.
“She gets that temper from you.”
“She gets her forgiveness from you.”
The little boy apologized. Your daughter nodded and shook his hand.
Heyaaa author nim! Thank you for answering my request!! I really loved it!!!! Got me giggling and kicking my feet lmao
Requesting for Seong je x Reader(baku's little sister) where they've been together for a long time(private/secret relationship that not even Baku knows) and one day while the quadro was hanging out and walking down the streets, they see seong je and reader too. Holding hands, snacks in their hands, and acting like a lovely couple(seong je is a green flag for her and he loves her soooo much). They were shock to see her with seong je and so reader is!! Please it's your desicion to make what will happen next!!
Reader is close to gotak,jun-tae and sieun too so they shock fr
-koitaaaaa
❝ You’ve Been Holding Out on Us ❞
— Seong Je x Reader | Fluff | Secret Relationship Reveal | Chaos Ensues
Tags: Long-term secret relationship, green flag Seong Je supremacy, Baku little sister energy, shocked quadro reactions, soft boyfriend behavior, found family vibes
POV: 3rd person, fem!reader
ok so imagine like seongjae was like a good guy in this 🥲thank you
He knew it the second he saw Si-eun freeze mid-step, a half-eaten taiyaki hanging from his hand.
It wasn’t just Si-eun. Gotak’s jaw had dropped, Jun-tae had audibly gasped, and Baku—oh, Baku had gone stone cold.
Because there Seong Je stood, right in the middle of a busy street in Hongdae (do you libe alone) on a sunny Saturday afternoon, holding hands with the very off-limits girl known to them as: Humin's little sister.
And they were being cute.
Not just casual, maybe-we’re-friends cute.
No.
Y/N had her fingers intertwined with Seong Je’s, her other hand wrapped around a bag of candied sweet potatoes he’d clearly bought for her. He was leaning close, laughing at something she’d said, and she looked up at him like he’d hung the moon.
They were… glowing.
They were so in love.
And it was a goddamn ambush.
Y/N spotted them a split second after Seong Je did, and it was like time froze.
“Oh my god—” she whispered, nearly dropping her snack.
Seong Je blinked, barely managing to keep his grip on her hand. “Don’t panic.”
“I’M PANICKING.”
“They haven’t said anything yet. Maybe we can just walk away.”
“Baku’s literally squinting like he’s gonna kill you with math.”
“I’ll protect you,” Seong Je said instinctively.
“Seong Je, you’re the one in danger!!”
Baku stepped forward first.
He looked at Y/N.
Then at Seong Je.
Then at their linked fingers.
Then back at Y/N.
“…You’ve been dating him?”
Si-eun leaned in to whisper to Gotak, “Is this… Is this what betrayal feels like?”
Gotak nodded solemnly. “I thought we were friends.”
Jun-tae, ever the peacekeeper, tried to lighten the mood. “At least he’s not a red flag…?” (bitch what are you on)
“I’m gonna vomit,” Baku muttered.
Y/N sighed, stepping forward, cheeks burning but voice steady. “Yes, I’ve been dating him. For… a year and a half.”
“A YEAR AND A HALF?!” the quadro yelled in unison.
Seong Je, to his credit, just rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly. “We didn’t want to make it weird.”
Si-eun glared. “We’ve literally all almost died together. You think this would be the thing to break us?”
Jun-tae blinked at Y/N. “Wait… that time you skipped movie night? You said you had ‘a family thing.’”
Y/N: “...I meant Seong Je.”
Gotak: “The matching phone charms—?”
Seong Je: “I said they were a random gift. They weren’t.”
Baku: “And the time I heard her giggling on the phone at midnight??”
Y/N: “Okay, that was definitely him.”
Seong Je: “She snorts when she laughs too hard.”
Y/N: “SEONG JE!!”
Eventually, the tension cracked like a dropped soda bottle—messy and loud, but not explosive.
Gotak sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us. Where’s the group trust?”
Si-eun, still mildly betrayed, just grumbled, “I have so many questions.”
Baku crossed his arms. “If he ever hurts you”
“He won’t,” Y/N said quietly. “He’s… really good to me.”
Seong Je looked over at her, fingers squeezing hers gently. “She’s everything to me.”
There was a pause.
Jun-tae smiled softly. “Okay, but like. You still lied.”
“Can we bribe you with snacks?” Seong Je asked, holding out a still-warm fish bun.
“Two each,” Gotak said instantly.
“Plus bubble tea,” added Si-eun.
“And I get to interrogate you later,” Baku muttered.
Y/N groaned. “Fine, fine. But no bringing up the time he cried watching Spirited Away.”
Seong Je: “YOU PROMISED—!”
Later That Night…
Gotak to group chat:
[Image] — Y/N and Seong Je fast asleep on the couch, her curled up under his arm, both holding hands even while passed out.
Caption: Okay they’re gross. But like. Kinda cute?
Jun-tae: 🥺💘
Si-eun: 🤨
Baku: Fine. He’s not the worst.
Baku: But I’m still sleeping with one eye open.
Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth?
After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.
Warnings: THE WARNINGS CONTAIN SPOILERS!!! MAJOR ANGST!, toxic relationship, death, longing, typical vampire stuff [biting, blood], feelings of betrayal, allusions to illness, fainting, love confession? mixed emotions, wounded love, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count: 4.6k words
A/N: OH MY GOD! I can't believe it's been nine months since chapter 23 O.O.... So, surprise?
Life has been busy for me, I finished my bachelor's degree and I already have been working on corporate for a year so that's good I suppose but I missed writing so much, dears. I swear I wanted to keep on with this story but I actually believe I experienced some kind of burnout, idk.
I did get you "Sweet Blood" though so I hope you enjoyed that one.
Also, happy (belated) birthday to me (May 28th) and happy birthday to the one and only, the magnificent Lee Soo Hyuk! The man behind my inspiration! The reason this story exists in the first place.
I know this is getting kinda long but I just wanted to thank you for still reading my little notes and this story that I began writing on 2023 -_- which was nearly three years ago if I'm correct on the first posting day. ANYWAY, thank you so much for supporting me and for leaving me littles sweet comments that have kept this story alive.
Have a nice day/evening/night and enjoy the chapter! Happy reading, 🫣 I hope you'll like it! 😌😁 .
Tagging: @my-day6 | @yumisventingmachine | @yukihatesreoyo | @anonymous2828 | @solivagant444 | @nitimurinvetitumsposts | @queenjang21 | @ib026 | @emneedshelp | @exo-shohei-perrie | @shylia | @wooahaeuniversexxx | @lovecleastrange | @zaramaliksblog | @xii-anya |🙈❤️*let me know if you'd like to be tagged or if you want me to get you off my taglist!
Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶
For the vampire, a hundred years seemed only like a year. But the twelve months of your absence felt like a thousand moons. Each day he was left with the lingering taste of your kisses, the yearning need for your touch and the whispered promises of a mortal forever. It lingered with him, the loneliness. The bitter guilt he refused to name and claim and accept.
And yet, it was now that same guilt that seemed to drown him. It was the sound of his frantic steps and his racing heart that filled his ears as he descended the dark staircase that led to his underground palace. His long robes brushed the stairs, the fabric swishing at his ankles as he walked–ran–toward what he believed would be safety.
You lay cradled against him. Kept in the cage of his arms in a limp form that made his dead heart pound with a strange fear. His hands were strong beneath your body, his grip would’ve been painful had you been awake. Your long and wet skirts draped over his forearm, your hair trailed down his hand, strands catching in the gentle embroidery of his robe. Your head rested against his shoulder, your eyes closed.
Gwi arrived at the throne room and quickly took the right passage down the hallway that led to what had once been a beautiful room with a beautiful cherry blossom tree belonging to a beautiful lady that governed his heart.
But as he entered the chamber, the pink petals were almost gone from the branches that stretched to the ceiling like black fingers of death. The candles shivered as he passed them and he knelt under the tree where the cushions of the bed were. His hands tightened around your body for a second, savouring your warmth, the weight of your body in his arms before he lay you down with tremendous gentleness for hands that had ended life in seconds.
His palm cradled the side of your face, eyes searching for something–anything–that would tell his raging mind you were still with him. Still alive. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you, they were soft in their intimacy yet profoundly sad.
“Petal…”
Your nickname escaped his lips in a tight murmur. A word he once chanted in his mind yet had not spoken out loud in months. It was your word. The nature of your existence within his life.
A precious flower he cherished and protected and watched as it bloomed.
A poisonous rose that had killed his mercy once.
But magnificent in its absence.
He missed the perfume of his flower despite the thorns of the stem. He missed the sweet sound of your voice, the gentle caress of your fingers. The kisses, the dance of love, the passion and the laughs.
He missed you.
All because he casted you away.
“Wake up, my flower.”
Gwi remained kneeling next to you, hovering over your body with disgusting anxiousness. His large hand never left your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin beneath. His other palm rested on top of your head, his fingers tangled in the damp strands of hair as he played with it absentmindedly.
The silence of the underground palace was killing him. No servant crossed the corridors, no fireplace cracked. But the sound that would stab his chest was the sound of your own slowed heartbeat. It resonated like a drum played too deep yet too late.
Off beat.
Odd against the symphony he had memorised when in your presence.
And while there were a thousand words the vampire wished to say, only a simple sentence escaped his lips. A sentence spoken in a soft murmur, deep against the chamber, low for only your heart to hear.
“Come back to me.”
It was a battle of love. The hand that had tangled in your hair now wrapped around your wrist. Feeling the bone density and the weak pulse beneath his fingertips. The slightly bulging veins of darker blood could be felt under his careful touch. Where once your skin had been healthy, it now felt dry and thin and horribly cold.
He remembered holding you. Your hands, your cheeks, your lips between his own. You had always been warm against him. Always alive where he was simply dead yet breathing. Now you coldness mirrored his own in a fatal cruelty that made a knot string under his ribs.
You were beautiful yet as cold as a painting. Soft silk draped over rigid stillness. Lifeless fingers still holding traces of his warmth between your palms.
Loved and missed.
Gwi pulled you against him, needing to feel you, to hold you to keep you within his arms. To guard your life from the cold fingers of death that threatened to take you from his embrace. His back rested against the dark wood of the cherry blossom tree, your head fit perfectly beneath his chin. He kept you upright, his arms around you, his hands fisting the worn fabric of your dress.
Something stung in his eyes. His throat tightened upon feeling you. If his hands weren’t fisted in your robes they’d be shaking. The mighty vampire was now reduced to the heartfelt man he had been centuries ago. Just a man. Just a human capable of love. Of emotions. Of grief and guilt and remorse so profound it was drowning in its silence.
“Forgive me.”
He spoke so quietly, so intimate that even if you had been awake you wouldn’t have heard him. Your skirts pooled over his legs, his dark long hair fell over his face as he buried it in your neck. Inhaling your scent. A scent of rain and pain. Of crushed petals and a sweetness carried by the wind.
Your pulse resonated in his ears. So loud yet so slow. A resonance that carved through him. A broken symphony.
He rested his chin on top of your head, about to take a deep breath where something smooth and hard and pointy poked at the pale skin of his throat. The vampire frowned gently, a soft crease of his brows as he looked down at your (h/c) and still damp hair.
Your hairpin was still tangled in your locks. His hairpin, the one he had given you what seemed to be a lifetime ago.
“I have something for you.”
His words made you look at him once more through the mirror, curiosity swarmed in your eyes as you watched him untangle his hands from behind his back only for you to see a beautiful hairpin in his hold. It was brown with delicate red flowers on it and two tear pearls hung from a small silver chain that sparkled in the dimly lit room.
Your lips parted at the beauty of the jewel he was gifting you. You were no stranger to luxury, your life had always been filled with jewels and precious things with great value but this gift, even though it was as elegant and equally luxurious as your other hairpins, held something special within. Something unique.
“A flower for my flower.”
He murmured as his fingers grabbed a piece of your hair. Gwi marvelled at the softness of your hair, silky in its nature, shiny in its complexity. It almost felt sinful to touch it like this, with such intimacy, with such delicacy. You watched in contemplation, in admiration to the man who kept you close to him as he twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers before he wrapped it in the hairpin that was now yours.
The memory flashed like lightning before his eyes. Back when life was simple, when gifts meant devotion and glances meant love. Back when having you was a pleasure while now, with you laying in his arms, it was the worst torture he had experienced in his eternal years of youth.
Your heart kept skipping beats, your breathing kept slowing and your skin did not regain any warmth despite the dryness of the underground prison he called a palace. Gwi took the hairpin, his fingers feeling the smoothness of it, the remaining dew it had left and he slid it off your hair.
The red jewel caught the flames of the candlelight and he fisted it in anger and sadness and mourning. His jaw tightened and his eyes kept stinging with salty grief he refused to let go.
Until he heard it.
A soft exhale. A lingering heartbeat that took too long to pump again. The hairpin in his hand slipped his fingers, it clattered onto the ground before he was grabbing you with desperate force. He turned you against him, laying horizontally, your skirts puffing out around you both like dried dead petals that once held a lovely scent now lost to time.
“Petal…”
The nickname died in his throat as it felt as if a cord was strangling him. A cord of guilt and love and devotion so fierce it burned through his cold touch. His left hand gripped your shoulder and kept you upright, your hair fell over his arm, your throat exposed.
A tear fell from his eyes, trailing down his chin and dripping onto the fabric of your dress. Your skin was ice as his right hand cupped your cheek, pressing your head against his chest in a way to keep you with him. To warm you. To command death to not claim his precious flower.
You weren’t waking up.
It was a truth he knew yet refused to accept. A fact woven into the dark tapestry that was his fate.
You wouldn’t wake up.
And in the density of his love and passion and immortality, a clenching fist of agony wrapped around his heart. A soul that was not meant to feel, a heart that was not meant to beat, a mind that was not meant to remember, belonged to you. A rose in a dead garden. A honey drop in bitter water. The petal of his love.
His rose.
Gwi looked down at you. At your unmoving lashes, at the beauty he was about to lose. The smile he’d never see, the voice he wouldn’t hear and the laughs he’d miss. His dark eyes moved from your face to the blue veins under his skin. Veins with blood so strong it was nearly black. Veins that held power.
A curse.
The punishment of his immortality. The pain of centuries.
Salvation.
The word came into his mind like a whisper, it resonated like a scream.
The vampire’s touch left your cheek as he lifted his wrist up to his lips. His eyes turned red with tears and his ancient curse. His fangs –those sharp weapons– graced his lips. He waited a heartbeat, a second of hesitation before he bit into his own inner wrist. The sting was nothing compared to the thought, the idea, of losing his beloved.
Blood filled his mouth, the taste sour and dry to his own tongue. It trailed down his forearm in beautiful rivers of crimson life. Thick and iron smelling.
With his left arm he shifted you closer against him, your head lolling back, your lips parting ever so slightly in unconsciousness.
Gwi placed his open wrist against your mouth, your lips tainting with his red cursed ink. He couldn’t see you, only a blurry painting of your true self as he refused to let more tears fall.
“Please, petal. Please, please, please… just drink…”
He begged like a penitent, knelt like a sinner and begged for heaven to spare you. His power was reduced to a prayer only meant for your ears, his lips saying nothing else but your name.
His blood slowly filled your mouth and out of reflex you swallowed. A deep gasp escaped him the moment you did. His soul tangled with yours as he became a part of you.
What kind of cruelty bestowed such ownership on him? General of armies, king of kings and master of masters.
The symphony of your heart drummed once more, synced with his own slow beats. Almost dead yet strong. Alive in its cursed lament.
“Just drink, love.”
And you did. Once, twice, three times before a gentle sigh escaped your lips. His right hand shook as a drowning realisation of what he had just done came to him in burning waves.
His heart, often as cold as ice and rigid as stone clenched so painfully the vampire sobbed as he embraced you. His bloodied hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your locks. His eyes squeezed shut and the tears finally fell.
Your skin warmed under his touch.
Your breathing stirred against his throat.
And your lashes trembled ever so slightly with how tightly he held you yet he couldn’t help himself. He had tied your soul to his own without completely knowing. You had once belonged to the vampire lord, owner of kingdoms and master of the night. Now it was you who owned his immortal soul.
The curse of eternity lay now cradled in the soft petals of a love that was meant to end in ashes long ago.
Ashes of pink petals and rose thorns and gentle lies.
The first thing you were aware of the moment your senses returned was the soft, almost forgotten smell of distant cherry blossom petals. Almost as if they belonged in a dream.
You swallowed, your brows furrowing at the sudden bitterness at the back of your throat. Your fingers flexed, touching gentle silk with embroidered vine leaves in golden thread. Your lashes fluttered and then your eyes opened only to see the blurry image of skeleton fingers stretching toward the ceiling in a gentle caress.
You felt warmth. Strength where your body could no longer hold itself. A sensation of smoke through your bones. A ghost of a touch that once burned you alive. Your breath hitched, you blinked and your vision cleared.
The cotton that filled your ears evaporated and you were suddenly aware of your own heartbeat pounding in your mind. Yet another rhythm synchronised with it. It was slower, deeper.
Sacred even.
“...life is a cruel thief,
A liar who speaks and smiles without words.
Death is a cruel judge,
Carrying burdens that were never her own.”
A whimper came from the back of your throat at the sound of that voice. That voice of poisonous beauty. The echo in your dreams, the rhythm of his words only made you frown in estranged melancholy.
“You are awake…”
The whisper was said with such disbelief it forced your gaze upwards. Only to see the source of your greatest love as well as the man who had killed your heart.
You were in his arms. He held you with a force that made you wince when you tried to leave his magnificent prison.
“You killed me…”
The words barely left your lips. They made him frown deeply at you. The sound of parchment falling reached your ears and then his right hand came up to cup your face. His wrist was bandaged, the material was rough against your jaw.
You flinched the moment he touched you yet it was simply a featherlike grace of his fingertips against your skin. You became suddenly aware of how deep he was breathing, the sound of candles flickering reached your ears and the drumming, over and over, of his heart beneath your ear was suffocating you.
His cold skin burned you where he touched you, the feeling of your dress around your body became heavy, your head was pounding and you suddenly felt nauseous at so many sounds and feelings and emotions you couldn’t process.
“I had to save you, petal.”
Tears filled your eyes. Eyes you hid as you closed them yet your lips trembled. You shook your head, your fingers flexed with the want –the need– to leave. To stand up and walk and run away from a place of such spoiled memories.
“Why did you bring me back?”
He suddenly pulled you closer, his arms encircled you and that’s when you realised he was sitting under the cherry blossom tree while you lay draped across from him. One of his hands held the back of your head and his lips brushed your ear as he spoke in a gentle whisper. For the sanctity of those words couldn’t have been uttered any louder.
“Because I could not survive your death.”
Your heart stopped for a second. You heard the silence. Those words, those sinful words opened a wound you spent months trying to stitch back only for it to bleed again. His grip was crushing you yet it became suddenly disgusting to be in his arms, or perhaps too painful for you to remain in the place that had once been safe for now to turn into the burning flames of hell itself.
Your hands rested against his chest, your fingers fisted the dark fabric of his robes. It was still slightly damp from the rain that you could still listen to. Maybe the skies were mourning alongside your heart, maybe the echo of your pain was perturbing you once more.
A bitterness rose from your chest to your lips so quickly you felt nauseous once more. An anger, a disappointment so profound your eyes darkened yet a hollow laugh escaped you.
“And yet… you survived my leaving.”
You looked up, meeting his gaze. Yours was burning, his was melted. And those words hurt more than sunlight upon his skin. Angry tears filled your eyes, tears of frustration and a hurt so deep your body betrayed you in the form of salty pearls.
He remained silent for a while, for once there was no godly justification, no romantic poetry meant for your heart to flutter, no perfectly crafted lie.
Just his silence. The weight of his actions against your eyes.
“There was not a single night I survived it.”
But you shook your head at his words. Words said between his teeth as the hand at the back of your head tightened with desperation. Your palms itched to push him away, to get up and run and hide from his poisonous love.
“Yet here you sit.”
Why couldn’t you just scream at him? Demand him an explanation? This silence was worse. This calm was hell. Those tears in your eyes were daggers to a dead heart. Gwi, in all his power and immortality, felt just how humanly your anger was. Like an ocean of grief and each wave threatened to drown his corpse.
“Breathing. Speaking. Existing.”
You hissed those words, your vision blurring.
“While I spent a year learning how to live without you. Trying to hate you, trying to forget you.”
His lips tightened over words he didn’t know how to say. The master of kingdoms had fallen at your feet. Your fingers tightened once more over his robes with surprising strength, yet you hated how much your tips recognised the embroidery. How familiar it was to be in his arms, how memories stirred with the simple sound of his deep voice you loved so much.
“I left a part of me behind. A part of me died. You killed me.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, whispering to you words of supplication.
“Don’t say that, petal.”
“Stop it. How can I be your petal when you killed the rose? How?!”
Tears sprung to his eyes, his grip crushing and that’s when your emotions spilled. Your palms pushed at his chest.
“Let go, let me go!”
“No.”
He mumbled, trapping you against your struggle. Caging you in once more.
“Let me go.”
You sobbed, the tears falling. Your heart breaking, your hands shaking.
“I will not let you go! I cannot!”
A drowned scream tore from your throat as you pushed and pushed until you escaped from his arms. Gwi sat against the tree, you sat in front of him, your palms on the ground and your left hand fisted the sheet of parchment he had let go the moment you woke up. Ink stained your fingers of his forgotten poem.
“You already did it once.”
He sat there staring at you with eyes full of hurt. The strings that held his pride snapped and his back suddenly collapsed against the trunk of sweet smelling wood. The ugly sounds of your sobs filled the bedroom, your chest was heaving with stilling breaths. Beneath your palm sat his crushed poetry while your hairpin rested near his knee.
Gwi watched you with rotten tenderness. You, the woman he loved. The petal of his precious flower. His heart had once been surrounded by your love, your petals. Now those petals had darkened with the stain of his actions.
And before him, the crumbled pieces of his garden lay bare before him.
The vampire looked at you like a broken relic he had destroyed with his own bloodied hands. His chest ached with a love so deep yet so rotten it was damnation itself. But sometimes poison is sweet. Sometimes pain is warm. He sighed, looking at you with those dark eyes full of guilt and love and regret he almost expected you to crawl back into his embrace.
“Let me go.”
You whispered once more. A plea between sobs. One last hope within you, like a candle amidst a storm. Gwi shook his head. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lose you again. And you cried once more. The tears slid down your cheeks, they dripped from your chin onto the fabric of your dress. The remaining cherry blossom petals fell between you both. Tiny, pink and wrinkled, carried by the wind of his sins and the weight of your love.
With a heaving breath you managed to stand up, your stance was unstable. As if you stood among clouds of nightmares. Gwi mirrored your actions, standing up as well beneath the tree. His feet itched to walk over to you and hold you and keep you. But it was those tears of yours that kept him away from your heart.
His unfinished poem lay in the miles between you two. Miles he could cross in five steps. Words you couldn’t care what they said. For they were lies. Gentle and sweet lies you had once swallowed with a smile.
You took a step back, he didn’t move but his gaze filled with sorrow.
“If you ever loved me, if your words and poems for me were ever true… you’ll let me go.”
Your voice was a distant echo of the laughs that had once filled his underground palace. The candle that never extinguished, the melody that never stopped.
“They were true.”
He said in a deep resonance that shook the iron walls around the pieces of your heart.
“They have always been true. Each word, each touch, petal please…”
But you shook your head this time, taking another step away from him. However, Gwi took one forward as well. Unable to bear the distance, the shrinking love that once burned so passionately.
“Please, (y/n) —”
“No.”
Your hands were shaking, the word came out low. Whispered like a blade afraid to cut silk. You swallowed against the knot in your throat and spoke words that felt like thorns.
“I spent a year mourning our love. I buried our memories and grieved for the life we dreamed of. A year.”
You lifted your chin, keeping the dignity in your next words. Seeing him in a blurry painting of red passion broken with black guilt and blue tears.
“You cannot ask me to come back to you.”
“I am not asking anymore.”
The words settled heavy and cold and iron into the stillness of the room. Your heart skipped a beat. Not out of love or hope or tenderness but of fear. He took a step forward and you took one back. Wishing the miles of time between you to either drown you or separate you forever.
Before you stood no longer your lover. Your man. Gwi who once dedicated entire pieces of poetry to your sacred ears, Gwi who once treasured your laughs and smiles and kisses like a pirate loves treasure. Gwi who touched you with careful hands, who undressed you between candlelight and made love to you with silken words and fire kisses.
That man was gone. Before you stood the ruler. The king of kings. The tyrant of your nation. The monster scholars feared, the predator of flowers. The general of generals and the owner of the night, master of the palace.
Your king.
The distance between you felt different now. Moments ago it had been the distance between two lovers. Now it was the distance between a wilting flower and a cruel gardener.
Five steps.
Five impossible steps. For he could cross them in the blink of an eye. And you had spent an entire year trying to escape them.
Your heartbeat slowed at the agonising realization that he now owned you in more ways you could understand. You heard the beats slowing and something in his gaze, that you could have swore turned red for a second, felt as if he could hear it too.
“I want to go.”
He took those five steps. Suddenly and without time for you to put distance in between. Your words were oil to his kindling flame of desperation. You weren’t demanding anymore, you begged. Just as he had done. But the plea had caused him to come to you and cage you in the prison of his hold once more.
“But I don’t. You are not leaving, you can’t.”
One of his arms wrapped around your waist, like iron bars wrapped in silk. He pressed you against his chest harshly while his other hand cupped your wet cheek and forced you to meet his eyes. Your head tilted back and through wide and blurry eyes, you watched as he observed you. He saw the tears, the trembling of your lips, the tightness of your beauty under his palm.
“I lost you once, petal. I will not lose you again.”
Your hands tried to push him away, your face jerked far from his hand but he only held you tighter. Harshly as if you couldn’t break when you were already in pieces. You pushed and sobbed and even hit at his chest until his hand grabbed the back of your neck and forced your head back. Black danced with (e/c) as he looked you directly in the eye. His voice, once velvety and soothing, was now rough with a command wrapped in cotton delight.
“You may hate me now, perhaps forever. I can survive your hate, I won’t survive your death, do you understand? Do you?”
Gwi spoke with daggers in his words. Daggers that had once protected you were now held against your throat by his hand. You sobbed, crumbling into his arms. He sank down onto the ground with you, never letting you go, embracing you with enough strength you felt the irony of his sweetness. His chin rested on your shoulder and your mind, poisoned, exhausted and tied to him in a way only your soul understood, surrendered. You kept crying, sobbing and whimpering but you embraced him back in hate, in forgotten memories, in love. In the only familiar thing in a room of strange shadows.
“I’ll keep you safe, I promise you.”
He shushed you, one of his hands running though your hair and your eyes closed. Realising that his love was not beauty, was not poems and certainly not his gentle touch.
It was ownership.
You belonged to the vampire lord.
You had always been his.
But it was now that you realised how much of you actually belonged to him.
His darling.
His dearest.
His dead flower.
May/31/2026
A/N: Want to be tagged? Let me know in the comments!
Thoughts? O.O
My inbox is open, darlings Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, love 🫶
Genre : Kinda angst
CW : Super OOC Geum Seongje (seongje is not seongjeing)mention of blood,mention of character death,insecure thoughts
A/N : This is my first time writing a fic in english and english isn’t my first language. It is kinda bad but i will try 2 be better i promise.Wc : 3k
Being average sucks.
You know for sure you are not the kind of person who stands out in Seongje’s eyes.
You are just average.
You are pretty, but not pretty enough for people to look at you twice. You have good grades, but not good enough to get first in class. You have friends, yet you still feel lonely deep in your bones. There is nothing special about you.
At least, that is what you think.
As a basic girl, you do have a crush on the typical bad boy, Geum Seongje. You have read a lot of books in your life and daydreamed about all the tropes, but nothing ever matched you and Seongje.
Enemies to lovers? Friends to lovers?
He doesn’t even know your name.
Strangers to lovers?
Oh boy, he doesn’t even look like he cares about you not even once.
You are not siblings of any of his friends, nor his enemies.
bsf!sister trope? Impossible too.
Your family is not poor enough to sell you to Seongje, nor rich enough to arrange some dramatic marriage nonsense.
You were fine just looking at him from afar, stealing glances in the hallway, memorizing the way he walked until your mom told you that you had to move to your parents’ place in Singapore in four weeks.
Now, you have made some plans to make the great Geum Seongje talk to you.
You cringe at your own internal monologue as you push open the heavy rooftop door. The metal groans softly, letting in the warm afternoon air.
There he is.
The tall boy stands near the railing, lost in thought, exhaling thin trails of smoke from his cigarette. The wind carries the sharp smell toward you.
“Hey,” you murmur, forcing your voice not to crack as you step closer.
Your gaze lingers on him ,the lazy posture, the way he looks completely unbothered by the world.
“Is this your lighter? It has your initials on it.”
You blurt the words out in one breath.
The boy slowly turns his head and stares at you.
Your eyes meet.
That alone feels illegal.
“No,” he replies bluntly.
Of course not.
You bought this metal lighter and paid extra to carve his initials on it just so you could talk to him.
“Uh… I see…” you mumble, swallowing your embarrassment. “By the way, I’m ___. I’m in the same class as you, and I—”
“I know, princess.”
His lips curve into something between a smirk and a smile, you honestly can’t tell which. He looks amused, like your whole attempt is some kind of entertainment.
Seongje knows your name.
Great.
Now you have some hope.
Princess? What a corny mf. You are pretty sure he calls half the female population that.
“Uh… so I’m moving to Singapore in four weeks just for a year, and I can’t take my PS5…” you continue quickly. “I can give it to you if you want.”
The PS5 you bought after overhearing him complain to his minions about wanting one but just don't feel like buying.
“You play games?” he asks, lifting one eyebrow slightly.
“Of course not. It was my ex’s, but he’s not gonna take it back since I bought it with my own money. I’m not planning to have another boyfriend even though I have two exes who—”
“Do I look like I care about your dating history?”
He cuts you off without hesitation.
“Well, you don’t, but I—”
“Stupid girl,” Seongje mutters quietly to himself.
“7 p.m. Convenience store. Bring it.”
He interrupts you again.
“And I’m taking this.”
Before you can react, he snatches the lighter from your hand.
You stand frozen, staring at his back as he walks away, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.
Oh.
So IS THAT A DATE??
It’s not but it’s enough to feed your delusions.
You scream internally, throwing your hands up in silent celebration like you just won the lottery. A kind of joy you haven’t felt in a long time spreads through your body.
You would definitely scream out loud if you weren’t still at school.
You pull out your phone and text your friend Juntae, dumping all your excitement into the messages only to immediately get lectured about how dangerous Geum Seongje is.
You roll your eyes at Juntae’s texts and dash home, already thinking about what to wear.
____________________________
When you arrive at the convenience store, the evening air feels cooler than before. The soft hum of the refrigerators fills the space, and the fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over everything.
You spot Geum Seongje immediately.
He sits at the counter in his bright orange jacket, casually eating ramen like he owns the place.
You think he looks like Victor with that jacket.
You slide into the seat across from him, trying to act normal. He pushes a bowl of instant ramen toward you, his lips curling into that familiar smirk.
“Eat, sweetheart,” he mutters flatly, already returning to his noodles.
“Thanks…”
You struggle to find words while sitting across from your crush, who seems to care more about the ramen than your existence. It feels unfair like how you have all the butterflies, or maybe bees, swarming inside your chest whenever he’s near, while he’s just… there.
Unbothered. Calm. Annoyingly casual.
You mentally cuss him with every word you know.
“So you’re giving that PS5 for free?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence. His tone sounds almost curious.
“Not free… uh, I have one condition,” you reply, fixing your gaze on his eyes with a nervous smile.
He glances up at you, waiting.
You swallow before continuing.
“You have to answer my questions whenever I ask you.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know more about you,” you explain, smiling a little too widely.
“Deal,” Seongje chuckles. “But only three in a row.”
He stands, grabs the PS5, and walks off without another word.
Tssk…
You click your tongue quietly.
What kind of asshole is he?
Can’t even say goodbye?
An asshole you like very much.
____________________________
The following days feel like pure bliss.
One afternoon, you find him alone in the classroom.
The rest of your classmates are outside doing PE . Running laps and suffering through whatever stupid exercises the teacher invented.
You never have to attend PE. Your convenient excuse: hemophilia. The disease that makes you bruise easily and bleed forever from even the tiniest cut.
You slip into the classroom quietly and sit beside him without thinking twice.
“Hey. Question time.”
Seongje doesn’t look up from his phone. His thumbs move quickly across the screen.
“Mhm,” he hums in response.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“None,” he mutters, cussing under his breath at another player.
“What’s your favorite subject?”
“I hate them all equally.”
You can’t help but laugh softly.
What in hell were you even expecting with that question?
“Do you like wearing your glasses?” you continue.
“No. Makes me look weak.”
Before you can reply, he suddenly stops playing and lowers his phone.
“My turn.”
He lifts his gaze and locks eyes with you.
“What’s your favorite food?”
You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question.
“Tteokbokki,” you quickly answer , the first thing that pops into your head.
He seems to think about it for a moment.
“7 p.m. Convenience store.”
That’s all he says before returning to his game like nothing happened.
____________________________
Hours pass, and now you sit across from him again, staring at a steaming bowl of instant tteokbokki while he eats ramen like it’s his life mission.
You watch him from across the counter and sigh internally.
How can a teenager be this unromantic?
He could at least bring you to a real tteokbokki place, something cute, something you could secretly call a date.
But no.This.
Yeah, go Seongje. Give me absolutely nothing.
You hide your disappointment and take a bite.
“It’s good. Really,” you murmur, forcing a smile.
He watches you with that familiar amused expression , the one that makes you feel like a clown performing tricks.
“You don’t have to do this, you know… Why did you buy me this?” you ask cautiously.
He shrugs while finishing his ramen.
“You said you like it, stupid” ,he replies lazily.
He stands, about to leave, but pauses for a second,he gives you a tiny wave.
A mini wave.
Before turning his back and walking away.
“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you continue eating.
“I have better grades than you. You’re the stupid one.Are you being mean, or are you flirting? God, king of mixed signals.”
Before you can continue arguing with yourself, the cashier shoots you a strange look , clearly wondering why you’re talking to yourself.
Yeah.Time to leave.
____________________________
The next day, you wait in front of the police station.
The evening sky is dull gray, and the air smells faintly of rain and dust. You lean against the cold metal railing, scrolling through your phone while waiting for him to come out.
Juntae has already sent you photos and voice messages.Long ones complaining about how rude and cruel Seongje was to him, and how blind you are for liking that asshole.
You comfort your friend half-heartedly and promise to buy a Cortis album for him. That instantly changes his mood, and he starts yapping about how excited he is.
You can’t help but smile at your phone screen.He is childish sometimes, but he genuinely cares about you.
Before you can finish that thought, the station door creaks open.
You look up.
Seongje steps out, limping slightly. Your chest tightens at the sight.
A boy calls out to him, and the two of them walk away together. You hesitate for a second before following them from a distance, stopping halfway down the street where the streetlights flicker weakly overhead.
You wait.
And wait.
Your thoughts spiral.
What are they doing at this hour?
Kissing?
You nearly laugh at your own imagination.
A few minutes later, he reappears , still limping.
You rush toward him without thinking. Before he can react, you grab his arm and drape it over your shoulder.
“We’re going to my place,” you declare, already dragging him forward.
He lets out a quiet laugh.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters.
But he doesn’t resist.
____________________________
Your apartment is small.
Not cramped, just… cozy.
Posters of your favorite bands and characters cover the walls. Vision boards filled with dreams and random aesthetics clutter the corners. Fairy lights hang loosely near the window.
After patching up his wounds, carefully dabbing antiseptic onto bruised skin, you both collapse onto the floor, exhausted.
You start talking.
And talking.
And talking.
You ramble about everything: your posters, your hobbies, the random things pinned to your wall.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t look annoyed.
Instead, he listens.
Really listens.
Every now and then, he lets out a quiet chuckle. Sometimes, he smiles not the smug smirk you’re used to, but something softer.
The kind of smile you have never seen him show anyone else.
Eventually, his breathing slows.He falls asleep.You sit there quietly, watching him.
Carefully, you reach out and trace his face with the tip of your fingers light enough not to wake him.
His eyelashes.His cheekbone.The faint bruise near his jaw.
Your chest tightens.
You think about everything that has happened between the two of you lately.
If you were delusional enough, you might think he likes you.
The way he looks at you.
The way he talks to you even if it isn’t much.
He never swears at you.
He never shows you his violent side.
So what if he’s the devil?At least the devil has a job.
He isn’t the freak the rumors make him out to be.
He doesn’t even take advantage of your obvious crush.
At least… that’s what you think.
You close your eyes slowly.
You just hope he won’t change when you come back from Singapore.
Maybe the two of you will date then.
Or maybe you won’t.
You pretend to sleep as you feel him shift beside you.
“Sleep properly,” he mutters under his breath.
There’s a long pause.
Then, so quietly you almost think you imagined it.
“Good night, princess.”
____________________________
Two days before moving out, you search for Seongje.
He hasn’t shown up at school, and that alone makes your chest feel strangely uneasy.
After wandering around the back streets nearby school , you finally spot him.
In an alley.
Oh.
Oh boy.
He’s not alone.
The narrow alley feels suffocating, thick with tension. Trash bags sit torn open near the wall, and dark stains some fresh splash across the concrete.
Blood.
Seongje stands in the middle of it all, punching manically at the guy beneath him. His movements are wild, relentlessly, fueled by something far more dangerous than anger.
Three other men lie scattered across the ground, groaning weakly.
One of them starts to move.
You freeze.
The man struggles to his feet, swaying slightly and that’s when you see it.
A knife.
Your heart drops.
Everything slows.
You don’t think.
You don’t plan.
You just move.
You rush forward and shove the man away from Seongje.
And then
Pain.
Sharp.
Burning.
You gasp as something slices into your upper abdomen.
Oh shit.
Is this real?
“Motherfucker…” you hiss through clenched teeth as your body folds slightly from the pain.
Seongje turns.
The moment he sees you, he drops the guy beneath him.
The look on his face is pure horror.
For the first time in your life, you see something raw in Seongje’s eyes.
Fear.
You want to smile.
You really do.
But the pain hits harder, spreading like fire through your body. Tears blur your vision before you can stop them.
The attacker flees.
You barely notice.
Seongje catches you before you collapse completely.
His hands shake as he lowers you to the ground.
He mutters something: a string of curses, broken words, frantic breaths but your ears ring too loudly to understand everything.
Your blood spreads quickly across the pavement.
Too quickly.
Your hemophilia makes sure of that.
He grabs the phone that fell during the fight, fumbling slightly before dialing.
“Ambulance.. shibal….yeah hurry the fuck up …she’s bleeding like crazy.. tf is wrong with her”
His voice cracks between curses.
If you weren’t stabbed, you’d probably laugh at how immature he sounds, swearing in the middle of an emergency like a kid who doesn’t know what else to do.
But right now, your thoughts feel heavy.
Foggy.
Hard to hold onto.
“Don’t you dare die on me, princess.”
His voice comes out rough, angry, but trembling underneath.
There are too many emotions tangled in his tone.
And if you’re not mistaken…
One of them is love.
You choke slightly and cough.
Warm liquid spills from your lips.
Blood.
Of course.
Your hemophilia is doing exactly what it does best, turning a bad injury into a disaster.
“You know… Seongje…” you whisper weakly.
Your throat burns.
You cough again before continuing.
“I always wanted to say it…”
Your vision flickers.
Dark at the edges.
Your fingers twitch weakly against his sleeve.
“I lov—”
The words never finish.
Your strength drains all at once, like something unplugged you from the world.
Breathing becomes harder.
Heavier.
Further away.
Seongje’s voice turns into distant noise shouting and cursing but it sounds muffled now, like you’re underwater.
Your body feels light.
Strangely peaceful.
And suddenly
Memories flash across your mind.
The night you traced Seongje’s face.
His quiet smiles.
The mini wave.
The ramen.
The stupid nickname.
Princess.
Darkness creeps in slowly.
And then nothing.
____________________________
Seongje glances at the box Juntae left for him in the old Union warehouse.
He doesn’t know where that coward got the courage to show up here.
It has been two days since you’ve been gone.
Two days since everything fell apart.
Seongje exhales slowly and crouches down in front of the box. His fingers hesitate over the lid before finally lifting it open.
Inside
Photos.
Stacks of them.
Pictures of you.
Pictures you took of him.
Every single one has a caption scribbled across the bottom in messy handwriting.
Small jokes.
Random thoughts.
Your stupid commentary.
Your favourite lyrics.
He isn’t the type to tremble.
But right now, his hands feel unsteady.
The guilt consumes him — slow and relentless, like something eating him from the inside.
He noticed you long before the lighter incident.
Long before you walked up to him on the rooftop with that ridiculous excuse.
He noticed you the very first day you transferred to his school.
Way before you ever gathered the courage to speak to him.
He knows your favorite drink.
He knows the face you make when you read romance books in the library ,the tiny smile you try to hide.
He knows how you wear a hat on days you don’t wash your hair.
He knows everything.Every love letter meant for you somehow ended up in his hands.
And the guys who wrote them?
They learned very quickly to stay away.
You thought you were invisible.
Average.
Ugly, even.
But the real cupid
It was him.
He liked you.
Obviously.
And he always thought you were too stupid to notice.
Or maybe…
He was just too stupid to show it properly.
He planned to confess on the day you moved away.
That was the plan.
If he worked hard enough in Union while you were in Singapore, he thought he could leave it behind someday.
Live normally.
Date you peacefully.
Give you the life you deserved.
He hated corny confessions.
But for you
He wanted to try.He ordered a cake. A bouquet too. Just because Deongha told him other teenagers did that kind of thing.
Pathetic.
He stares at the photos again before carefully placing them back into the box.
Inside, there are plushies too, the ones you bought just because they reminded you of him.
His chest tightens painfully.
He leans back against the worn sofa and exhales deeply, closing his eyes.
The warehouse falls silent except for the faint buzzing of the broken light above.
Can I request Seongje x reader where his gf is pregnant ,and he becomes soft and caring towards her ,but at first they dont know whats wrong with the reader cuz shes always sick ?
Wirte this only if u want 🫶
GEUM DAD;gsj
Pairing: Geum Seongje x reader
Resume: After weeks in which his girlfriend had been paler and with less appetite than usual, Seongje finds out that he will be a father, although he doesn't react the way many would expect him to.
Warnings: Teen?pregnancy, light violence, offensive language, threats, cute end btw.
Word Count: 3.0k
NOTE: @mochijoshi I hope I delivered what you asked for!
Seongjae's cigarette smoke mingled with the cold air of the alley, creating a gray haze around his relaxed face. He was wearing his signature orange jacket, and the ring his girlfriend had given him for his birthday glinted on his finger as he held the cigarette with that dangerous elegance that defined him.
Beside him, _____ was leaning against the brick wall with her eyes closed. She was pale. Not that beautiful, magazine-model pale, but a sickly, waxy pale, with dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn't hide.
She’d been like this for weeks, and Seongjae couldn't stand it anymore. His girlfriend was a beautiful girl, she looked like a doll—he’d always thought so—but right now...
"You look like shit," Seongjae said, blowing smoke to the side, though his sharp eyes didn't leave her.
"Thanks, babe. Always so charming," _____ murmured without opening her eyes. Her voice sounded weak, raspy.
Seongjae clicked his tongue, irritated. He didn't like this. He didn't like it when things spiraled out of his control, and _____’s health was something he couldn't intimidate, beat up, or bribe.
She’d been like this for over two weeks: dizzy, tired, refusing food.
"I told you to eat something decent, not that garbage from the convenience store," he growled, stepping closer. He placed a hand on her forehead. His palm was large, rough from dehydration, but the contact was surprisingly gentle. "You don't have a fever. You're just… off. It pisses me off."
"I'm just tired, Seongjae. Leave me alone for a bit."
"If you were tired, you'd sleep and get over it. But you've been sleeping fourteen hours a day and you still look like a corpse."
_____ opened her eyes and glared at him, but the effort seemed to drain her. She brought a hand to her stomach and grimaced in pain, feeling bile rising up her throat again.
"I think I'm gonna throw up again."
Seongjae rolled his eyes, threw the cigarette to the ground, and crushed it with his boot.
"Shit, not again." Despite his complaining, he moved fast. He grabbed her arm to steady her, his grip firm preventing her from swaying. "Let's go to the apartment. I don't want to get a fucking fine because of you."
"I don't want to go on the bike. The motion makes me dizzy," she complained.
"Fine, shit, we'll walk then. But I don't want to hear a single complaint."
They started walking. Seongjae kept a slower pace than usual, matching hers, though his posture remained arrogant, defiant, glaring at anyone who dared to look at his pale girl.
_____ tried to keep up, but the world was spinning. The neon lights of the city signs stretched and blurred together. The traffic noise turned into an unbearable buzzing.
She felt a sharp prick in her head and the ground seemed to vanish.
"Seongjae…" she whispered.
He turned just in time, expecting to see her looking green or about to vomit, but _____ collapsed. Her knees gave way like water.
Seongjae reacted with the reflexes of a guy used to taking and dodging hits to the face. He caught her before she hit the asphalt, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against his chest.
"Hey." He patted her cheek, expecting her to slap his hand away and insult him. "Hey, wake up. It's not funny."
_____ didn't answer. Her head lolled back, limp. Her skin was cold and clammy.
Seongjae's heart, which rarely raced for anything other than the adrenaline of a fight, gave a violent thud in his chest. An icy sensation, far worse than any punch he’d ever taken, shot down his spine.
"Shit!" he yelled, looking around. People were walking by, looking on with curiosity but not stopping. "Make way, you useless bastards!"
He scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, not caring about the weight or wrinkling his expensive clothes. He ran toward where he'd left the bike but realized he couldn't take her like that.
"Taxi… I need a damn taxi," he grumbled, breathing heavily. He stood in the middle of the street, raising his hand, and when a taxi tried to drive past, Seongjae kicked the bumper with such fury that the driver slammed on the brakes out of fright.
He opened the back door and placed _____ inside carefully, then got in himself.
"Hospital. Now." His voice was low, a direct threat. "And if you take more than ten minutes, I'll break your teeth."
The driver, seeing the wild look in the guy's eyes, didn't ask questions. He floored it.
The hospital was white, bright, and smelled of antiseptic. Seongjae hated hospitals. They reminded him of weakness, broken bones, and people complaining.
He was pacing back and forth in the ER waiting room like a caged tiger. People scrambled out of his way, intimidated by his violent aura and flashy orange jacket.
They’d been in there for forty minutes. Forty fucking minutes.
"Family of patient Jeong _____," a nurse called out with a clipboard.
Seongjae was in front of her in a second.
"That's me. What's wrong? Is it serious? Did someone poison her?" His mind worked fast, thinking of people who might have taken revenge on him.
The nurse, an older woman who had seen it all, wasn't phased by the guy's aggressive attitude. She looked at him over her glasses.
"She is stable. She woke up a moment ago. The fainting spell was caused by a drop in blood pressure combined with mild anemia and dehydration."
Seongjae let out the breath he was holding. Not dead. Not poison.
"Dehydration? I told her to drink water. She's so damn stubborn." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his perfect style. "Fine, I'm taking her. I'll buy her Pedialyte or whatever."
"Wait a moment, young man." The nurse stopped him with a gesture. "Those symptoms are secondary. The main cause of her state is her condition."
"Condition?" Seongjae frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Does she have a disease?"
The nurse sighed and looked at the clipboard. "She is eight weeks pregnant."
The world stopped.
The hospital noise, phones ringing, gurneys rolling… everything vanished. Only the nurse's face remained, and those words bouncing around inside Seongjae's skull like a rubber ball in a small room.
"What?" he asked. His voice came out flat, toneless.
"She's pregnant. Two months. Nausea and fatigue are normal, but in her case, they've been severe, that's why she fainted. She needs care, rest, and…"
Seongjae stopped listening.
Pregnant.
_____ was pregnant.
A baby.
His mind traveled back two months. A party they’d been invited to. Alcohol. His apartment. Laughter. Sex. They hadn't used protection that night. He remembered thinking "who cares," with the arrogance of someone who believes consequences don't apply to him.
"Can I see her?" he interrupted the nurse. He didn't sound aggressive anymore. He sounded… stunned.
"Go ahead. Bed 4."
Seongjae walked down the hall. His legs felt strange, like they weren't his own.
He opened the curtain to Bed 4.
_____ was lying on the gurney, an IV in her arm. She looked small amidst the white sheets. She was awake, staring at the ceiling with eyes full of tears.
When she saw Seongjae enter, she wiped her face quickly, trying to look strong, but failed.
Seongjae approached and stood by the bed. He didn't say anything.
He stared at her, but not with his usual look that judged her when she slept in an hour late, but with that intense focus he had when he was thinking deeply.
He lowered his gaze to her belly. It was still flat. There didn't seem to be anything there.
"They told you, didn't they?" _____ asked, her voice trembling.
Seongjae nodded slowly. "Pregnant."
_____ let out a choked sob.
"I'm sorry, Seongjae. I didn't know… I took pills for a headache yesterday and… I'm scared... We can't… you have the Union, and we're young and…"
Seongjae reached out his hand. _____ flinched, expecting a yell, an accusation, or for him to tell her to "deal with the problem herself."
But Seongjae's hand landed on her head. His long fingers tangled in her hair, stroking her scalp with a clumsy, unusual gentleness.
"Shut up," he said. It wasn't a harsh order. It was almost a plea. "Stop saying stupid things."
"Seongjae…"
"Is it mine?" he asked, though he knew the answer. He just needed to hear it.
_____ looked at him, offended despite the tears.
"What do you mean 'is it yours,' you piece of shit? Obviously it's yours, whose else would it be?"
Seongjae sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, invading her space, as he always did. His weight dipped the mattress.
"Then there's no problem."
"What?" _____ blinked, confused. "What do you mean no problem? It's a baby, Seongjae! A human! You hate people."
"I hate annoying people. I hate the weak." Seongjae slid his hand from her head to her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "But if it's mine… then it'll be strong. He'll be a goddamn king, just like me."
_____ looked at him, looking for the joke, but Seongjae was serious. There was a glint of possessiveness in his eyes. She wasn't just "his girlfriend" anymore. Now she carried his blood inside her.
"Are we going to keep it?" she asked, fearfully.
Seongjae frowned, as if the question was stupid.
"What part of 'it's mine' didn't you understand? What's mine stays with me. And you…" His gaze softened, just a bit, enough for her to see the boy behind the monster many feared. "You are going to take care of yourself. No more junk food. No more staying up late. You're going to do what I say, and I say you're going to be healthy."
_____, overwhelmed by hormones and relief, threw herself forward and hugged him, burying her face in his orange jacket that smelled of tobacco and expensive cologne.
"I thought you would leave…" she cried.
Seongjae wrapped his arms around her, tightly, protecting her from the outside world. "I'm not going anywhere, idiot. Now shut up and rest. It stresses me out seeing you cry."
Geum Seongjae didn't turn into a saint overnight. He was still arrogant, foul-mouthed, and violent with anyone who looked at him wrong. But with _____… with _____, things changed.
One week after the hospital, _____ was on the sofa in Seongjae's apartment. He was on the balcony, with the glass door open.
He took a cigarette out of the pack. Placed it between his lips. Took out his lighter.
_____ watched him from the sofa.
"Smoke hurts the baby," she said quietly.
Seongjae froze. The lighter was inches from the cigarette. He looked at _____. He looked at her belly, still flat. He looked at the cigarette.
He clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Goddammit. Everything is a problem."
He put the lighter away. Took the cigarette out of his mouth and, with a sharp movement, crushed the entire pack in his fist, destroying the expensive cigarettes left inside.
He threw the ball of paper and tobacco into the trash with force.
"Happy?" he growled, entering the apartment and slamming the balcony door shut.
_____ smiled. "Very happy."
"Whatever. I brought grapes. Eat them. The nurse said fruit was good or some shit like that." He tossed a bag of washed grapes onto her lap and sat next to her, crossing his arms and watching TV with a frown, as if eating fruit were a personal but necessary insult.
As the months passed, _____’s belly started to show. And with it, Seongjae's paranoia grew exponentially.
Walking down the street with him became a VIP experience for _____. Seongjae walked a step ahead of her, clearing a path like an icebreaker.
If someone came along distracted looking at their phone and seemed like they were going to bump into her, Seongjae shoved them or growled at them.
"Eyes front, dipshit!" he yelled at a student who passed too close.
"Seongjae, he didn't touch me," sighed _____, used to it.
"He was going to. He invaded your space." Seongjae draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him possessively. "I already told you no one is going to touch you."
But the real conflict wasn't on the street, it was on his phone.
The "Union."
Seongjae's phone rang constantly. Meetings. Settling scores. Territories to defend. At first, Seongjae went. He left _____ at home with a thousand warnings: "Don't open the door for anyone," "Eat," "If anything hurts, call me," and went to fulfill his "obligations."
But he came back with broken knuckles, smelling of blood. And every time _____ cleaned his wounds, he saw the worry in her eyes. He saw how she looked at her own belly with fear, wondering if her child's father would make it home alive that night.
One rainy afternoon, the phone rang. It was a direct call from the higher-ups. There was a turf war in Yeongdeungpo. They needed Seongjae to crack some skulls.
Seongjae looked at the phone vibrating on the table.
_____ was asleep on the sofa, her head on his lap. She was six months pregnant. Her hand rested protectively over her round belly. She looked peaceful, vulnerable.
Seongjae looked at his hand. There was a fresh cut on his index finger.
If he went today, he’d come back late. He’d come back dirty. He’d come back bringing violence into this apartment that, little by little, was becoming a home.
The phone stopped ringing. And started ringing again immediately.
Seongjae picked up the device.
He looked at it for a few seconds. He thought about the power. He thought about the money the Union gave him. He liked money. He liked power.
But then he felt a movement in the palm of his hand. The baby kicked. It was a strong, decided blow, right against Seongjae's hand through _____’s skin.
Seongjae jumped. His eyes widened in surprise. He moved his large hand over the bump.
Another kick.
"Little bastard… you're strong..." he murmured, and a crooked, proud smile appeared on his lips.
He looked at the phone vibrating for the third time.
"Union: Urgent meeting."
Seongjae swiped and rejected the call. Then, he turned off the phone and threw it to the other end of the sofa.
He settled in better, reclining so _____ would be more comfortable, and put his hand back on her belly, waiting for another kick.
"Not today," he whispered to the belly. "Today Dad stays here."
The turning point came in the eighth month.
Seongjae had been distancing himself. Missing meetings, ignoring orders. The Union didn't take disloyalty lightly.
One night, coming back from shopping—because now Seongjae did the grocery shopping so _____ wouldn't carry weight—he ran into three guys blocking the entrance to his building. They wore the uniforms of a school allied with the Union.
"Geum Seongjae," the leader said with a mocking smile. "Baekjin is asking about you. He says you've gone soft. That you're playing house."
Seongjae set the grocery bags on the ground carefully. Inside were milk, strawberries—the craving of the week—and diapers he had bought "just in case."
He straightened up. Cracked his neck. His gaze changed. He wasn't the tired guy buying milk anymore. He was the crazy guy everyone feared.
"Soft?" Seongjae asked, with a soft, terrifying voice. "Tell Baekjin I haven't gone soft. I just changed priorities."
"Traitors like you deserve a lesson. We're going up to see your little girlfriend, see if she…"
The guy didn't finish the sentence.
Seongjae moved so fast it was a blur. His fist impacted the guy's jaw with a sickening, crunchy sound. The guy hit the ground unconscious before touching the floor.
The other two stepped back, terrified.
Seongjae didn't stop. He grabbed the second one by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.
"Listen closely, you pieces of shit," Seongjae snarled, his face inches from the terrified boy. His eyes shone with murderous fury. "You can say whatever you want about me. You can try to attack me. But if any of you, or anyone from the Union, dares to mention my woman or my son… if you dare to breathe near this building… I will gouge your eyes out and make you swallow them. Understood?"
"Y-yes… yes, understood…" the boy stammered.
"Get out. And take the trash on the ground with you."
Seongjae watched them run, dragging their unconscious companion.
He stood there for a moment, breathing hard. He looked at his knuckles. They were red, but not broken.
He picked up the grocery bags. Checked that the milk hadn't spilled and the strawberries weren't squashed.
He went up to the apartment.
_____ was waiting for him at the door. She had heard the noise. She was scared.
"Seongjae? What happened? I heard yelling."
Seongjae entered, locked the door, and engaged the deadbolt. He left the bags in the kitchen.
He walked over to her. _____ checked his hands instinctively, looking for blood. "They're red..." she said, worried.
"It's nothing. Just some annoying bugs." Seongjae took her hands and kissed them. It was such an intimate gesture, so far from his old personality, that _____ felt like crying.
"I'm scared, Seongjae. You know the Union won't let you go that easily."
"Let them try," he said arrogantly, but then sighed and hugged her, resting his chin on her head. "I don't care about them anymore, _____. I'm out. For real. I'm not fighting for stupid territories or Baekjin's money."
He pulled back a little and placed both hands on her enormous belly. The baby moved, responding to his touch as always.
"I have a new territory to defend," Seongjae said, looking at the belly and then into her eyes. "You two. That's all I need. It's a full-time job and it pays better."
_____ smiled through her tears and caressed his cheek.
"You look tired, idiot."
"Being a good guy is exhausting, you know?" he admitted, smiling crookedly, that malicious smile that had made her fall in love, but now softened by love. "But I think I'm good at it."
"You're amazing at it."
Seongjae leaned in and kissed _____, a slow, deep kiss, unhurried. Then he knelt in front of her, level with her belly.
He lifted her shirt a little and kissed the stretched skin.
"Hey, you," he spoke to the navel. "Come out soon. Dad's bored of waiting. I want to teach you how to fight… and to take orders from no one."
"Seongjae," _____ scolded him, laughing. "No fighting until he's ten years old."
"Fine, fine. I'll teach him to say 'piece of shit.' Better?"
NOTE: Some of you were asking for it, so, her you go!
Requested tag: @chxrrybomb22
Geum Seongje wasn't a religious man, but the day his daughter was born, he came close to praying to every god in existence that no boy would ever get near her until he was cold in the ground.
When they placed the baby in his arms, wrapped in that ridiculous pink blanket, something broke inside him forever. She was so small. Her skin was red and wrinkled, and she was crying like the world owed her money.
"She's... she's ugly," Seongje said, eyes wide, staring at the little thing moving in his tattooed arms.
"Seongje!" ____ scolded him from the bed, exhausted but happy.
"But look how strong she is..." he conceded when the baby squeezed his index finger with her tiny hand. "Fine. She's a Geum. We'll name her..."
"Her name will be Ha-neul," ____ interrupted. "We had already decided."
"Ha-neul. Sky." Seongje looked at the girl. "Too cheesy. I'm calling her 'Pumpkin'."
But when the baby opened her eyes—dark, intense eyes that were identical to his—Seongje knew he had lost.
That girl wasn't just going to be a "Pumpkin." She was going to be the absolute owner of his life, his soul, and his bank account.
Three years later.
Geum Seongje was sitting on the living room floor, legs crossed. He was wearing black sweatpants and a tight t-shirt that showed off the tattoo on his arm.
His expression was one of concentration, the same one he wore before a major fight.
Across from him, seated on a tiny pink plastic chair, was Ha-neul.
The girl was an exact copy of her father, but with her mother's softness. She had shiny black hair, long lashes, and that defiant look that said, "I do what I want."
She was wearing a tulle princess dress with glitter and a lopsided plastic crown.
"Daddy," Ha-neul said with an authoritative voice, holding out an empty toy teacup. "More tea."
Seongje sighed but grabbed the purple plastic teapot. "Don't you think you've had enough tea, Pumpink? You're gonna get a tummy ache." He tried to reason, using his "I'm your father, obey me" tone, which never worked.
Ha-neul frowned. It was the same gesture of displeasure Seongje made when someone contradicted him.
"More tea!" she demanded, slamming her little hand on the plastic table. "And cookies!"
"Okay, okay, calm down, you tyrant." Seongje pretended to pour tea into the invisible cup. "Here. And there are no more cookies, you ate them all, you glutton."
"I'm not a glutton!" the girl complained, crossing her arms. "I'm beautiful!"
"You're beautiful and a glutton. You've got squirrel cheeks." Seongje leaned in and gently bit her cheek, making her squeal with laughter.
____ walked into the living room, drying her hair with a towel. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling at the scene: the feared ex-gangster of the Union, the man who once broke a rival's ribs for looking at him wrong, was having imaginary tea with a three-year-old.
"How's the tea party going?" ____ asked.
Seongje looked up. Seeing her, his expression softened. He still found it incredible how beautiful she looked to him after watching his daughter's head come out of her body.
That had been traumatizing.
"Bad. The hostess is abusive. She forces me to drink air and insults me. She takes after her mother."
"She takes after you and you know it," ____ corrected, sitting on the sofa.
"Mommy, Daddy doesn't want the tiara," Ha-neul accused, pointing a finger at Seongje and holding up the toy.
"Oh, really?" ____ looked at Seongje with amusement. "Why not, Daddy? It's rude to refuse a gift from royalty."
Seongje grunted, running a hand through his hair, which was a bit shorter and neater now, though it still had that rebellious style.
"Because I'm a man, ____. Men don't wear pink tiaras. I have a reputation."
Ha-neul hopped off her chair and walked toward him with the toy in hand. She stood between his legs and looked up at him with those big dark eyes, making a trembling pout that was her deadliest weapon.
"Daddy... please..."
Seongje looked at the girl. He looked at his wife, who was laughing silently. He looked at the shiny, ridiculous tiara.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head, defeated.
"Put it on. But if you..." He pointed at ____. "If you take a picture and send it to anyone, I'm divorcing you."
Ha-neul let out a little squeal of happiness and placed the crooked tiara on his head. "Handsome!" she clapped.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm beautiful." Seongje adjusted the tiara with dignity. "Now, can we wrap up this meeting? Daddy has to go to work."
"Boring work?" Ha-neul asked.
"Work that pays for your princess dresses and toys. So yes, boring work."
Seongje had officially "retired" from fighting and the Union. He now had a legitimate business: a motorcycle repair and customization shop.
He was doing well. He still had that dangerous aura that attracted customers looking for quality, and no one dared to haggle over the price.
He got up from the floor, taking off the tiara—to Ha-neul's disappointment—and giving the girl a loud kiss on the forehead. She laughed, feeling her beloved father's affection.
"Behave. Don't put doll shoes in your mouth. Listen to Mommy."
"Yes, Daddy."
Seongje walked over to ____, leaned over the sofa, and kissed her on the lips. A short but intense, possessive kiss.
"I'll be back at seven. Need me to bring anything?"
"Milk. Ha-neul finished it with her cereal."
"Fine. Milk." Seongje grabbed his motorcycle keys. "See you later, beautifuls."
He walked out of the apartment with his heavy, confident stride. In the hallway, he crossed paths with the neighbor from 5B, an older lady who always looked at him suspiciously because of his tattoos.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Park," Seongje greeted with a smile that was more of a grimace baring his teeth.
Mrs. Park mumbled something and quickly scurried into her house.
Seongje let out a dry laugh. He liked that they were still afraid of him. It made him feel that, despite the tea parties and diapers, he was still the leader of Ganghak.
***
The mall on a Saturday afternoon was the definition of hell for Geum Seongje. Too many people, too much noise, recycled air conditioning, and screaming kids.
In his previous life, he would have avoided this place like the plague, or only come to collect a debt.
But now, here he was. Pushing a shopping cart with one hand and holding a bag of diapers with the other, while his wife and daughter walked ahead of him.
"Look, Seongje," ____ said, pointing at a display window. "That's the sheet set we need."
"Mmm." Seongje nodded without looking, his eyes scanning the perimeter out of habit, even though the only real threat was his patience running out.
Then it happened. The tragedy.
They passed by the toy section.
Ha-neul, who until that moment had been walking quietly holding her mother's hand, stopped dead in her tracks. Her dark eyes, identical to Seongje's, went wide as saucers. She pressed herself against the display glass, leaving a foggy patch with her breath.
"Mommy! Daddy!" she screamed, pointing frantically. "Mommy, look!"
Seongje stopped and looked.
It was a plush cat. One of those expensive Japanese brands. It wore a purple lace dress and a giant bow on its head.
"It's pretty, honey," ____ said, trying to keep walking. "Come on, we have to buy dinner."
"No!" Ha-neul planted her feet. Her small feet in patent leather shoes dug into the floor. "I want it! It's the Princess Cat, Mommy!"
Seongje looked at the price. It was expensive for a piece of cloth stuffed with cotton, but he had more cash than that in his pocket right then.
"Buy it for her," Seongje said, shrugging. "That way we leave faster."
____ turned and gave him that look. The Look. The one that made Seongje shut his mouth instantly.
"No, Seongje."
"Why not? I have money."
"Because she already has one at home," ____ explained patiently, crouching down to Ha-neul's level. "Hani, sweetie, you already have that cat at home. The one with the pink dress."
"This one is purple!" Ha-neul argued, as if it were the most obvious difference in the universe. "The pink one is her sister! This one is alone! She's sad!"
Three-year-old logic was ridiculous.
"No, Ha-neul," ____ was firm. "We talked before leaving. We said we were only coming to buy things for the house today. You have plenty of toys. The pink cat is enough."
"But..." Ha-neul's lower lip started to tremble.
Seongje felt a cold sweat. He knew that sign. It was the prelude to the apocalypse.
"Hey, ____..." Seongje tried to intervene, lowering his voice. "It's just a plushie. We're not gonna go broke. Look at her face. She's gonna cry."
"Let her cry," ____ said, standing up. "We can't buy her everything she wants every time we go out, Seongje. She'll get spoiled. She has to learn that 'no' means 'no'."
"But it's purple. Purple is my color," he insisted, using a ridiculous argument.
"I said no. And don't undermine me in front of her."
Seongje shut his mouth. He knew when he had lost a battle against his wife. She was right, of course. Discipline was important.
He didn't have discipline as a child and ended up in a gang. He didn't want that for his daughter.
But then, Ha-neul burst into tears.
And it wasn't a screaming tantrum kicking on the floor. I wish it had been. Seongje could handle that with a "get up and stop making a scene."
No. It was a silent, heart-wrenching cry.
Fat tears started rolling down her round cheeks. Her nose turned red. She made a choked sound, like a hiccup, and looked at the plush cat through the glass as if they were saying goodbye before going to war.
"Goodbye, cat..." Ha-neul sobbed, waving at the plushie with her little hand.
Seongje's heart turned to mush. His chest tightened. He felt a physical, violent need to smash the glass, grab the cat, and give it to her.
"Shit..." Seongje muttered.
____ sighed, took Ha-neul's hand, and started walking.
"Come on, Hani. We'll play with the pink one at home."
Ha-neul let herself be dragged, but she didn't stop crying. She turned toward Seongje, reaching her arms out to him.
"Daddy!" she whimpered. "Daddy!"
Seongje let go of the shopping cart.
"Come here, my love..."
He picked her up. Ha-neul clung to his neck like a koala, burying her wet face in his shoulder, sobbing against his black t-shirt.
"There, there..." Seongje rubbed her back awkwardly, looking at his wife with pleading eyes. Please, let me buy it.
____ shook her head slightly, unyielding, and kept walking through the supermarket.
The ride back home was psychological torture for Geum Seongje.
Ha-neul didn't stop crying the whole way. She sat in her car seat in the back, hugging her blanket, hiccuping with that deep sadness only small children can feel.
Seongje drove gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.
"She's suffering," Seongje said, looking in the rearview mirror.
"She's frustrated. It's different," ____ replied from the passenger seat, checking her phone with a calmness that seemed superhuman to Seongje.
"She's crying for real, ____. It's not an act. Look at her eyes."
"She'll get over it as soon as we get home and she watches TV. Be strong, Seongje. Don't give in."
"I'm not giving in," he lied. "But I feel like a damn monster. I have the money in my pocket. I could have bought it. It's stupid."
"It's not about the money. It's the principle."
Seongje grunted and kept driving, feeling like the worst father in the world every time he heard a sob from the back seat.
They arrived at the apartment.
Ha-neul refused to walk. She refused to let her mother carry her. She only wanted Daddy.
Seongje carried her up. The girl curled against his chest, head on his shoulder, leaving a puddle of tears and drool on his expensive clothes. He didn't care.
They went inside. ____ went to the kitchen to put away the groceries.
Seongje sat on the large living room sofa. He tried to sit Ha-neul next to him to put on cartoons, but she refused. She climbed on top of him and stayed there, curled up in a ball on his chest, face hidden in his neck.
"Hani..." Seongje whispered, stroking her hair damp from crying. "It's over now. You're home."
"I wanted the cat..." she sobbed, voice broken. "She was all alone in the store... she was cold..."
The girl's narrative kicked Seongje in the stomach.
"She wasn't cold, it's a store. They have heating," he tried to explain, using logic.
"She was too!" Ha-neul cried harder, clinging to his shirt. "And I wanted to take care of her! Mommy is mean!"
"Mommy isn't mean," Seongje said quickly, glancing toward the kitchen just in case. "Mommy... is right. You have lots of toys, Pumpkin. Your room is full."
"But not that one!"
Ha-neul lifted her face. Her eyes were swollen, lips red, wearing an expression of absolute pain.
Seongje felt his eyes sting.
Damn it. He was the Wolf of Ganghak. He had seen people with broken bones cry less than her. He had taken beatings without shedding a tear.
But seeing his daughter like this... so small, so sad over something he could fix so easily... was undoing him.
"Don't cry, please..." Seongje's voice cracked a little. "If you cry, Daddy gets sad too."
"My heart hurts, Daddy..." Ha-neul said dramatically, touching her chest.
A treacherous tear escaped Seongje's right eye. He wiped it quickly on his shoulder so no one would see, but the feeling was there.
He felt powerless. He was the strongest man in the neighborhood, but he couldn't defeat his wife's will or console his daughter.
"I know, my love. I know." He hugged her tight, rocking her a little. "Daddy is here. Daddy loves you very much."
"I want the cat..." was a final whisper, exhausted.
They stayed like that for about twenty minutes. Ha-neul's crying faded little by little, turning into jagged sighs. Her breathing became heavy. Her little hand, clutching Seongje's t-shirt, relaxed.
She had fallen asleep on top of him, defeated by sadness.
Seongje stayed motionless, staring at the ceiling, feeling the warm weight of his daughter. His chest felt tight. He felt guilty. He felt like he had failed her, even though he knew, rationally, that ____ was right.
But his doting, first-time father heart didn't understand reason.
Thirty minutes later.
____ came out of the kitchen with two cups of tea. She saw the scene on the sofa and smiled tenderly. Seongje looked like a statue, afraid to move and wake the child.
"Did she fall asleep?" ____ whispered, placing the cups on the coffee table.
"Yeah." Seongje lowered his gaze to his daughter. He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead with infinite delicacy. "She cried herself dry."
____ sat next to him on the empty space of the sofa. She rubbed Ha-neul's back.
"Poor thing. She was really tired..."
Seongje looked up and met his wife's eyes. His dark eyes were serious, pleading. He wore that expression he used to have when he wanted something and knew he didn't deserve it, like a child who broke a vase.
"____..." he started, in a husky whisper.
"Tell me."
"Buy it for her."
____ sighed and shook her head, sipping her tea.
"Seongje..."
"Please." Seongje leaned slightly toward her, careful not to drop the girl. "I can't see her like this. It breaks my soul. She was crying on my shoulder for half an hour saying her heart hurt. Her heart, ____! She's three, she shouldn't know that a heart can hurt."
"She's a drama queen just like you," ____ said with a half-smile.
"I don't care." Seongje put on his most pitiful face. "Look, I'll go right now. I'll take the bike. The store is still open. I'll buy it, wrap it, and we'll give it to her tomorrow saying that... I don't know, that the cat followed her home because she missed her."
"That's lying to her, and it's rewarding a tantrum."
"It wasn't a tantrum," he defended. "It was genuine suffering."
"Seongje, listen to me." ____ set the cup down and turned to him, getting serious. She put a hand on his knee. "I know it hurts you. I know you want to give her the world. And I know you can give it to her."
"Then let me..."
"No. Because if you give her everything she asks for every time she cries, we're going to raise a spoiled brat who thinks money solves sadness. And you don't want that. You want her to be strong, right? Like you."
Seongje looked down, ashamed.
"I want her to be happy."
"She will be happy. But she also has to learn to tolerate frustration." ____ stroked her husband's cheek. "Today we said no. Tomorrow she'll have forgotten. But if you give in now, Seongje, you're going to be her slave forever. And when she's fifteen and asks for a motorcycle or to go on a trip with some idiot boyfriend, you won't know how to say no."
The mention of "fifteen years old" and "idiot boyfriend" made Seongje frown in terror.
"No one is having a boyfriend. That is forbidden."
"Exactly. You have to practice saying 'no' starting now."
Seongje looked at the sleeping Ha-neul. She looked so peaceful now, though she had traces of dried tears on her cheeks. He sighed deeply, a sound of total defeat.
"I hate when you're right," he muttered.
"I know. That's why you married me. Someone had to put some brains in that hard head of yours."
Seongje pouted. Literally, the feared Geum Seongje pouted.
"But it was purple..."
____ laughed softly. "I know, honey. I know."
"What about her birthday?" Seongje asked suddenly, with a glimmer of hope. "It's in two weeks. That's soon. Can I buy it for her birthday?"
____ thought about it for a moment.
"In two weeks... okay. If she behaves herself these days, you can buy it for her birthday."
Seongje's face lit up like he'd been told he won the lottery.
"Yes!" he whispered excitedly. "Good. Perfect. I'll go early tomorrow to buy it and hide it in the garage. Just in case it sells out."
"Seongje, it's a generic plushie, there are fifty of them."
"I'm not taking the risk. That purple cat will be hers."
"Alright." ____ leaned in and kissed him on the lips. "Now, take the girl to her bed. I made hot chocolate the way you like it."
Seongje nodded. With slow, expert movements, he stood up from the sofa carrying Ha-neul. The girl stirred a little, mumbling something in her sleep.
"Cat..." she whispered.
Seongje froze and looked at ____ with "See?!" eyes.
____ rolled her eyes and pointed down the hall.
"To bed. Now."
Seongje walked toward the girl's room, muttering to himself and to his sleeping daughter.
"Don't worry, my love. Daddy is going to get it for you."
He tucked Ha-neul into her bed, covered her with the blanket, and kissed her forehead. He stayed there for a moment, watching her in the dark, feeling the knot in his chest loosen.
It was true. He couldn't buy her everything. He couldn't stop her from crying sometimes.
But he could make sure that, at the end of the day, she knew that he would always, always be there to try and fix it, even if he had to fight his wife—and lose—to do it.
can we have more seongje x pregnant!reader ???? ☺️ more fluff or scenarios
Decided to continue with "His Beautiful Little Secret" 🙌🏻✨
His Beautiful little Secret
Part Two
✮ Summary : Request above ↑ (and part one)
✮ Contains : Fluff, only fluff, not really angsty
✮ Pairing : Geum Seong-je x preg!reader
✮ Word Count : 2.6K
꩜ Part One
Seongje’s weeks following the garage incident were a blur of nervous energy and newfound vigilance. His days were now a careful balance: putting on a brave face for the Union, and being fully present for his family. The memory of Baekjin’s words, "Do you think you'll be able to protect them?" echoed in his mind, fueling a quiet determination.
He found himself more focused during Union work, trying to wrap things up quickly and cleanly so he could get home sooner. He refused to get into any more senseless brawls, choosing instead to diffuse situations with a chilling glare or a well-placed threat. He knew his reckless days were behind him.
His nights, however, were entirely dedicated to her. He’d come home, shed the weight of the Union, and be just Seongje. The one who'd rest his head on her growing belly, humming soft tunes and feeling a deep sense of peace as their baby kicked in response. He learned to read her moods, bringing her ice cream when she craved it, and holding her close when she was uncomfortable. He found himself more gentle, more patient than he ever thought he could be. Every flutter, every kick was a reminder of the life he was creating and the responsibility he had to protect it.
He also found a strange, unspoken truce with Baekjin. There were no more cryptic remarks or veiled threats. Baekjin simply observed from a distance, a silent acknowledgment of the new dynamic. It was an uneasy peace, but a peace nonetheless. He still hadn't told anyone else, but now, the fear wasn't about the Union, but about the world itself.
At school, Baekjin would occasionally glance across the classroom, his eyes landing on her. He saw the gentle curve of her belly, the way she would instinctively cradle it, and a strange, almost possessive thought would cross his mind: Seongje's little world. He saw the way she carried herself, a quiet strength that contrasted with Seongje’s usual volatile nature. It was an odd observation, one he’d keep to himself, but it confirmed everything he suspected about the man who was his right hand.
Then, just a few days before her due date, everything changed.
Seongje was a whirlwind of frantic panic from the moment her water broke. He fumbled with the keys, grabbed the wrong bags, and forgot his wallet twice. She, on the other hand, was a picture of serene composure, managing a small, amused smile even as the contractions began to set in. At the hospital, the hours stretched into an eternity. Seongje held her hand, his knuckles white, whispering words of encouragement. The tough Geum Wolf, who could face down anyone without a flicker of fear, felt utterly helpless.
Then, he heard it—a faint cry that cut through the sterile silence of the delivery room. Their baby was here. He saw her, their little girl, swaddled and perfect, her tiny hands reaching out. Tears, hot and unexpected, streamed down his face. He kissed her forehead, then their baby’s, a silent promise to protect them both.
They stayed at the hospital for a few days to rest and recover. Seongje, exhausted but elated, had just stepped out to grab a coffee when a familiar figure appeared at the door.
Baekjin walked in, a small, unassuming bouquet of white flowers in his hand. His usual impassive expression was softened, just slightly, around the edges. He found her awake, propped up in bed, a radiant smile on her face as she looked at the sleeping infant in the bassinet.
He walked over to her, handing her the bouquet. "How are you feeling?" Baekjin asked, his voice low and devoid of its usual edge. He glanced at the baby, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He thought, This is what it was all for. This little life, this fragile secret. He understood Seongje's desperation now, his frantic need to protect this beautiful little family.
"Tired, but good," she replied, her eyes bright with a new kind of joy. "She's perfect."
Baekjin looked at the sleeping infant. "She is." He placed the flowers on the bedside table. "I thought you might like these. They're not the best, but I tried."
As they spoke, Seongje walked back in, his heart lurching at the sight of Baekjin in the room. He tensed instantly, his protective instincts on high alert. Baekjin, acknowledging his presence with a curt nod, prepared to leave. But not before his final words. He looked from her to the baby, then back to Seongje.
"He was terrified, you know," Baekjin said, his gaze fixed on her. "Of the world, of what could happen to you both. It's a heavy burden, being a father. You have to be even more careful now, Seongje."
Baekjin left without another word, leaving Seongje alone with his thoughts. He looked from his baby to her, his heart a tangle of fear and love. Baekjin’s words were a cold splash of reality, a reminder that the world outside the hospital room was still a mess. But as he looked at his family, he also felt a strength he never knew he had.
When she woke up, she saw the worry etched on his face. She reached for his hand, and he moved to her side, squeezing it tightly. "It's going to be okay," she said, her voice filled with quiet confidence.
He knew she was right. He had to be strong. For them. For his little family, his beautiful secret, now brought into the light of the world. He knew the path ahead would be difficult, but he also knew he wouldn't walk it alone. He had her, and he had his daughter. And for now, that was enough.
The next few days were a quiet, beautiful blur. The hospital felt like a different world, a safe bubble that had to burst eventually. The day they were discharged, Seongje was a nervous wreck, driving the car slower than he ever had in his life. Every small bump in the road felt like a personal failure, every sudden brake a catastrophe. He found himself glancing in the rearview mirror every few seconds, just to make sure she was still there, swaddled securely in her car seat.
Finally arriving home, he felt a weight lift and a new one settle on his shoulders. The apartment, once just a place to sleep, now felt like a sanctuary. The first night was a chaotic mix of exhaustion and wonder. The baby’s cries, which would have annoyed the old Seongje, now held his complete attention. He learned to change a diaper with surprising gentleness, his large hands moving with a newfound delicacy. He’d stand over the bassinet for minutes at a time, just watching her breathe, a fierce, protective love swelling in his chest. His old life, the fights, the reckless adrenaline, felt a million miles away.
But the world outside didn’t stop for him. One afternoon, while she was sleeping and he was running a quick errand for the Union, he ran into Baekjin. It was in an alleyway, far from the light and warmth of his home. A cold, damp place where business was discussed in hushed tones.
Baekjin looked him over, his eyes lingering on the new, quiet intensity in Seongje’s gaze. "You're getting soft, Seongje," Baekjin said, not as an accusation, but as a simple statement of fact.
Seongje just stared back, his expression unreadable. He knew the truth of it, but it wasn't softness. It was a trade. The recklessness had been replaced by something stronger, something with a purpose far beyond his own survival. "I know," he replied, his voice low and firm.
Baekjin's lips quirked into that almost-smile again. "Is she good at keeping secrets, too?" he asked, a subtle barb meant to remind Seongje of the danger they were in, of the power Baekjin held.
Seongje didn't rise to the bait. He just looked at his friend, and for the first time, Baekjin saw not just defiance, but a deep, unshakeable resolve. "She is my world, Baekjin," he said, the words a quiet promise, a warning. "And I'll do anything to protect it."
Baekjin said nothing more, just turned and walked away. The conversation hung in the air, a constant reminder of the two worlds Seongje now had to navigate. He was a Union man in the alleys, a father at home, and the two could never, ever meet. He raced home, the quiet promise echoing in his mind. He found her in the living room, cradling their daughter, a look of pure contentment on her face.
He walked over, kneeling beside them. He didn't say a word about Baekjin or the Union. He just put a hand on her shoulder and rested his head against her, breathing in the scent of her hair and the warmth of his new life. He was terrified, yes, but he was also a protector. And in that moment, as his little family slept soundly, he knew he was more than just a man. He was a father.
Baekjin’s visit was an unnerving truce played out in Seongje's most sacred space. When he arrived, Seongje opened the door, his posture instantly shifting into that of a silent guardian. He let Baekjin in without a word, watching him as he took in the apartment—the small, personal details that made it a home, not just a hideout.
He didn't act like a boss, or an interrogator, or even a friend. He was just a classmate, sitting at the small kitchen table with her, textbooks and notebooks spread out between them. He was helping her with a math problem, his voice low and patient as he explained a formula. Seongje, meanwhile, stood in the corner of the room, a statue carved from granite. His eyes never left Baekjin, scanning for any hint of a threat, any shift in his expression. The tension was a living thing in the room, thick enough to choke on.
Just as the silence threatened to crack, a small cry echoed from the bedroom. Their daughter.
"I'll get her," she said, rising from her chair with a soft smile.
The moment she was gone, the air changed. Baekjin looked up, his gaze settling on Seongje. "You can stand down, you know," he said, the words cutting through the quiet. "I didn't come here to cause trouble."
Seongje just stared, his fists clenched at his sides. He didn't trust it. He couldn't. This entire situation was a beautiful, terrible risk.
"I can practically hear your brain working," Baekjin continued, leaning back in his chair. "You think I'm a threat. That I'm here to take something from you." He paused, a strange, almost wistful look in his eyes. He saw the soft warmth of the room, the scent of baby powder, the way Seongje had been so obviously, desperately in love. Baekjin thought of the girl from his class, now a mother, and the way she had unknowingly brought a hardened Union man to his knees. He found himself… intrigued. He was fascinated by this quiet family, this "secret" that had managed to do what no one else could.
"Don't worry, Seongje," Baekjin said, his voice softer now. "Your little secret is safe. I'm not going to do anything to your family." It wasn't a promise of friendship, but a declaration of neutrality. He was a spectator, not an enemy.
Just then, she walked back in, a tiny bundle in her arms. The baby was wrapped in a pink blanket, her eyes wide and curious. She walked straight to Seongje and placed the baby gently in his arms. The transition was seamless, a routine they had already established. Seongje's entire body language shifted in that moment. The tense, coiled energy dissipated, replaced by a deep, protective calm. He looked at the baby in his arms, then back at Baekjin, a silent message passing between them.
She returned to the table, picking up her pen. "Alright," she said, looking at Baekjin. "Where were we?"
Seongje stood in the corner again, but this time, with his daughter nestled against his chest, the tension was gone. He watched the two of them, his world and the world he had to protect it from, sitting at the same table. It was a fragile balance, a strange new normal, but for now, it was enough.
The weeks that followed settled into a rhythm Seongje never knew he craved. The constant tension that had defined his life for so long slowly gave way to a quiet, profound contentment. He still went out, still handled Union business, but he did it with a singular purpose: to get back home. His fights were quicker, his decisions sharper, driven not by reckless bravado but by a desperate need to return to the warmth of his sanctuary.
One evening, after their daughter was finally asleep and the last of her lessons was put away, they found themselves on the couch, wrapped in the quiet stillness of the apartment. The city lights flickered through the window, but inside, the only light was the soft glow from a single lamp.
Seongje was staring at her, a look of awe on his face. She turned to him, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "What is it?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.
He shook his head, a small, genuine smile of his own appearing. "I just... I can't believe it's real. All of this," he gestured around the room, to the small bassinet in the corner, to her. "I used to be so scared. Scared of what Baekjin would do, scared of what the Union would do. I thought that keeping you a secret was the only way to protect you."
She reached out and took his hand, her fingers lacing through his. "I know. I could see it in your eyes. But you don't have to be scared anymore, not like that."
He squeezed her hand. "But I still am. Every time I walk out the door, every time I see someone from the Union, I just think about you guys. It's like... before, I was just fighting for myself. Now, I'm fighting for you. For her." He looked toward the bedroom, a deep protectiveness softening his features. "It's a different kind of fight."
"It's a better fight," she said softly. "You're fighting for love now, not just survival. That's a strength no one can take away from you, not even Baekjin." She leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice a quiet comfort. "I wasn't scared. I knew you would protect us. You're strong, Seongje. You're the strongest person I know."
He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. "You know, the old me wouldn't have believed any of this was possible. I thought I was just meant to be some tough guy. But then I met you, and you made me want to be something else. Something better."
He looked at her again, his eyes filled with a tenderness she had never seen in anyone else. "You didn't just give me a baby. You gave me a reason. You gave me a home."
She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "You gave me one too, you big idiot. We're in this together. Always."
He lowered his head and kissed her, a kiss that was a promise, a thank you, and a declaration of a love that was deeper and more real than any fear he had ever known. In the quiet of their apartment, surrounded by the warmth of their love and the peaceful sleep of their daughter, he finally felt truly safe. He wasn't just Seongje, the Geum Wolf. He was a father. A boyfriend. And for the first time in his life, that was more than enough.
✮ Summary : In which Seongje hinds something from everyone, well hidden, or so he thought. His beautiful little secret.
✮ Contains : Fluff, little bit of angst, smoking
✮ Pairing : Geum Seong-je x preg!reader
✮ Word Count : 1.4K
Nobody knew. He’d kept it to himself from the very beginning, trusting no one in the Union. He was terrified something might happen to her, to them. Scared that if anyone discovered their secret, they’d be threatened, blackmailed.
More than just fear, he found a strange solace in hiding it, in keeping something entirely his own, away from the world. This, and only this, was enough. Nothing would happen if he kept it a secret; they were safe and sound, waiting for him to come home.
Seongje knew he wasn't an angel, that they deserved better than him. But he was selfish, unwilling to let them go. He was obsessed. He thought everything was alright, until the day he picked a fight with some guys from Eunjang. His boss had a bone to pick with them, and Seongje, in his infinite wisdom, decided a rooftop brawl was a good idea. Then he showed up, the new guy, and beat his ass.
Seongje was arrested. He couldn't go home, couldn't be by their side to quiet his mind, to banish the frustration. When he finally walked out, foot in a splint, he was ready to head straight for home, until he saw a familiar silhouette.
Baekjin was there, waiting, his face unreadable, his posture cold. Seongje couldn't tell if his friend was mad, frustrated, pissed off, or just… well, Baekjin. Even more surprising, Baekjin led him to the garage.
"You never come here. This place is a mess, and you're neat," Seongje said, getting no answer. "You use this place to beat up men who disobeyed, or just didn't do their job well enough." Still, silence.
Seongje felt frustration simmering. What did Baekjin want? Why had he brought him here? Then it clicked.
"What did you tell the police?"
He couldn't believe it. This was why he was here. To interrogate him, to ensure his right-hand man hadn't jeopardized the Union by talking. Seongje scoffed, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling. He flicked it away, looking at Baekjin, a bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth.
"That's why you brought me here, huh? To make sure your right-hand man didn't spill your 'little stuff' to the police? Beat me up if I said something that disappointed you?" He paused, anger coursing through him as he glared at Baekjin as if a second head had sprouted from his shoulders.
Baekjin, on the other hand, was unnervingly calm, not a single emotion showing in his eyes or features. He was ice.
"We're not angels, but I thought at least we were on the same side."
Seongje had developed a grudging attachment to Baekjin, considering him a friend after all their time together. He loved messing around, but he would never betray him. The mere thought that Baekjin believed he could just fueled his anger further.
He had to go home.
He stood up, lit a fresh cigarette, and looked at his… what should he even call him?
"I think I'll take a break."
He started walking towards the exit, but then his ears caught something. His legs stopped working. His feet betrayed him.
"How's your little family doing?"
He turned around. Slowly, carefully, as if the world might explode. Baekjin wore a faint smile, his eyes playful yet utterly expressionless. How could this motherfucker be so nice and tough at the same time?
"Don't know what you're talking about." Of course, he knew Baekjin knew he was lying. It was obvious. His hands began to shake, just a little, but enough for Baekjin to notice.
Seongje didn't know why, or rather, he knew exactly why but wouldn't admit it. He was scared. Just a little, though. Fuck, why lie? He was shaking out of pure fear.
"How far along is she? Five months, maybe six?" Baekjin didn't look away, the same impassive expression plastered on his face.
Seongje’s brain spiraled. How did he know? How had he uncovered his most hidden secret? What would Baekjin do to teach him a lesson?
"You're not exactly discreet, you know. I found it strange that you always stay home, you don't go out often anymore. You barely go to class, always standing outside my high school, pretending to wait for me. At the same spot as a certain someone. And then, out of nowhere, one of my classmates shows up pregnant at school on a beautiful Monday. Seriously, Seongje?"
His fists clenched, holding back the urge to lunge and strangle Baekjin. How dare he. He was fuming, jaw clenched. Baekjin merely observed, analyzing his demeanor, clearly enjoying the spectacle. The tough Geum Wolf was fuming and losing it at the simple mention of a girl. And not just any girl—his pregnant girl.
"What do you want?" He'd long since lost his cigarette and his nonchalant posture. He wanted to attack Baekjin before he could harm them. Because anything or anyone could harm them. And now he wondered, did other people also know about them?
"Nothing. I just wondered… why do you call yourself my friend, if you don't share your secrets? Are you afraid, Seongje?"
He knew what Baekjin wanted. To hear him say it, to hear it come out of his mouth. That he felt, that he was capable of feeling fear, and not just laughing it off. And for the first time in his life, Seongje didn't deny it. He said it.
"I'm terrified."
The man in front of him smiled. A small, simple smile, but the meaning behind it was profound.
Seongje still hadn't moved, as if any action would trigger a bomb to drop on his apartment.
"Don't hide things from me, Seongje. You know I always end up discovering them." Baekjin stood up and walked towards him, now standing directly in front of him. "Though it's a beautiful little secret you kept here, didn't you? Your new little family. Do you think you'll be able to protect them from all the mess in this world?"
Seongje asked himself that question every day. He was even more afraid to fail, to… he didn't know… mess it all up. That she'd see the real him, the him that fought for his own good, the one who'd laugh off getting beaten up in return. How many times had she looked at him with pity because of his bruised face? He sometimes even felt ashamed that he let it happen. He didn't regret the baby; he only regretted that it would have to put up with a messed-up dad like him.
Baekjin seemed to perceive the tumultuous thoughts behind his right-hand man's eyes. He snapped him out of his trance by placing a hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes.
"Seongje, if you don't stop thinking right now, I'll beat your ass up here and now. Go back home. You're dismissed."
Baekjin didn't need to repeat himself. Seongje bolted out of the garage and practically ran home. After almost ten minutes, he finally arrived in front of his door. He fumbled with his keys, eager to see if they were alright, if nothing had happened. The door was locked—a good sign. He opened it and walked in.
Lights were on, and he heard noises in the kitchen. It was like a weight was lifted from his chest. He could finally breathe, knowing that everything was normal. Nothing had happened.
He walked into the kitchen, and the sight before him made him stop, leaning on the table. He watched her… her hair, her body moving as she prepared dinner, her eyes…
She hadn't seen him yet, so he took the opportunity to come up behind her. He enveloped her in his arms; she jumped a little, then calmed once she felt him rub her baby bump.
She turned around and smiled brightly at him. It was as if all his worries vanished with the light of her smile and the emotions she showed through those eyes, those perfect e/c eyes.
She was fine. They were fine. Both of them were okay. Nothing had happened to them. In the back of his mind, he knew Baekjin wouldn't do anything. It was just a little tease, nothing more. He gently caressed her baby bump, now beautifully pronounced at six months. He kissed her gently and remained glued to her for the rest of the time she prepared dinner.
Could you make one of Seongje x Sieun's twin sister? She is the complete opposite of Sieun, cheerful, fun, outgoing, and just as intelligent as Sieun, kind, and when Seongje sees her for the first time, it's as if Cupid had shot him with his arrow. Thank u
cupid
recommended song to listen to while reading
——> from the start - laufey
⤷ summary: request above^^
⤷ contains: love at first sight, protectiveness, opposites attract, teasing banter, romantic tension, fluff
⤷ pairing: seongje x sieuns twin!reader
⤷ word count: 1.8k
The rooftop felt impossibly high, the wind gusting sharply and tugging at your hair as you sprinted up the emergency stairs. Your heart was hammering—not just from the climb, but from the noise of the fight echoing above. You didn’t hesitate; you knew your twin, Sieun, would be in trouble.
Bursting onto the rooftop, your eyes immediately found him. He was crouched near the edge, bruised, one side of his face scraped, and a thin line of blood streaking down his temple. Despite his usual composed expression, his slight wince betrayed the pain.
“Sieun!” you shouted, hurrying over. Your hands moved instinctively, brushing the hair from his damp forehead, kneeling beside him. “Hold still—I’m going to fix you up. Don’t argue with me.”
“I’m fine…” Sieun started weakly, but you cut him off with a shake of your head. “No. Stop pretending. You’re bleeding and bruised, and I’m not letting you move until I take care of you.”
Your twin always tried to act strong, to hide any vulnerability—but you knew him too well. Carefully, you cleaned the cuts along his temple and cheek, dabbing at the blood and muttering little reassurances. “There. Better. Just… try to relax.” You took a deep breath, trying to keep your own panic at bay. It was impossible to watch him hurt and feel helpless.
Sieun’s lips curved into a faint, grateful smile. “Thanks, y/n…” he murmured, the calm tone in his voice belying how much he appreciated your care.
You were focused entirely on him, adjusting the makeshift bandages and wiping the blood that had run down his side. That’s when your peripheral vision caught movement you didn’t expect. A figure sprawled on the ground a few feet away, clutching his foot, blood trickling between his fingers.
Seongje.
Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t notice him properly at first. You were too busy fussing over Sieun, asking him quietly if he was dizzy or in pain, brushing stray hair from his forehead, holding his hand while you applied pressure to a particularly stubborn scrape. Your laughter rang soft and warm as he grumbled at your fussing, and your voice had that effortless, confident cheerfulness that could make anyone feel at ease.
Seongje watched from the ground, immobilized by both pain and fascination. His foot throbbed where he had been stabbed—courtesy of your twin—but his attention wasn’t on the injury. It was on you.
You had completely disarmed him without even knowing it. The way your eyes softened when you looked at Sieun, the gentle pressure of your hands, the teasing lightness in your voice—it was intoxicating. His chest tightened, his pulse racing in a way that wasn’t just from the pain.
As if cupid just shot him with her arrow.
He had seen fights, intimidation, loyalty, and fear, but nothing had prepared him for this: someone so alive, so effortlessly kind and bright, caring for another person with such genuine intensity. He found himself leaning slightly forward, despite the stabbing pain, just to watch.
“Hold still, I said!” you said gently but firmly, tying the bandage around Sieun’s side. “There. Good. You’re okay now.”
Sieun blinked up at you, eyes softening. “y/n..really…”
“I know,” you said with a grin, brushing the hair from his forehead again. “You’re lucky to have me, remember that.” You laughed lightly at his flustered expression, your energy infectious.
Seongje’s lips parted slightly, completely captivated. He had never seen anyone like you—not in school, not in his life. The combination of intelligence, cheer, confidence, and kindness made his chest feel tight, and for a moment, he forgot the pain in his foot entirely.
You finally stepped back from Sieun, checking that he could sit up properly. “There. You’re patched up. Now try to breathe for a minute, okay?”
It was then that Seongje noticed your full presence for the first time. You turned, hair catching the sunlight, eyes sparkling, a smile still lingering on your lips from laughing at something Sieun had said. You radiated warmth and energy, completely oblivious to him lying on the ground. And Seongje felt his chest tighten again—like a jolt straight to his heart.
He watched, almost in awe, as you fussed with Sieun one last time before gently helping him stand. Your laugh, your movement, your sheer presence—everything about you was magnetic.
“Sieun… are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, concern still clear in your bright eyes.
“Yeah… thanks” he said quietly.
And then Seongje realized it fully: he didn’t just want to meet you. He wanted to be near you. To talk to you. To see that energy again. All while you were completely unaware of him, focusing on Sieun.
For Seongje, the wound in his foot didn’t matter. What mattered was you. Every careful movement, every soft laugh, every kind word directed at your twin—it was like watching someone perform magic, and he was under the spell.
Finally, he whispered, almost to himself, a mixture of awe and disbelief: “I…have to get to know her”
And in that moment, Seongje knew something had changed. The fight, the rooftop, the pain—it all faded. There was only you, bright, caring, alive, and utterly captivating.
A few days had passed since the rooftop fight, but Seongje couldn’t get you out of his head. Not even for a moment. The memory of the way you’d fussed over Sieun—gentle, confident, and so effortlessly alive—played on repeat in his mind. He had healed enough to walk without limping, but that didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t thinking about the fight, the rooftop, or even his foot. He was thinking about you. You were the complete opposite of Sieun, but still so intelligent, Seongje liked that for some odd reason.
The afternoon sun spilled across the school gates as you walked out, backpack casually slung over your shoulder, chatting with Sieun. Your laughter rang across the courtyard, bright and infectious, your hair bouncing with every step. You radiated warmth and energy, the complete opposite of Sieun’s calm, quiet demeanor, and that contrast made you impossible to ignore.
Seongje leaned against a wall across the street, smirk tugging at his lips. His cocky, confident energy was fully intact. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, surveying you as if he owned the moment. “Perfect timing,” he muttered to himself, pushing off the wall and striding toward you. Every step was confident, magnetic, dangerous—but entirely charming.
“Y/n!” he called, his voice carrying smoothly, rich with that signature playful edge. You turned, and your eyes immediately met his, curiosity flickering across your bright expression.
“Well, if it isn’t the troublemaker from the rooftop,” you said, tilting your head with a grin. Your playful tone didn’t hide the slight warmth in your eyes—he could feel it.
“Troublemaker?” he said, flashing a cocky smirk. “I prefer charming problem solver. And speaking of charm, I’ve been thinking about you.” He leaned casually against the railing beside you, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “The way you took care of Sieun… I’ve got to admit, it’s been on my mind.”
You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was worried about him. That’s it.”
“Sure,” he said smoothly, grin widening. “But I can’t help noticing that I might be next on your rescue list. You handle yourself well, but you’d handle me even better, I think.”
Your grin matched his perfectly, playful and confident. “I might take that challenge,” you said, leaning just slightly closer, eyes sparkling.
Seongje smirked and, without warning, planted a soft, warm kiss on your cheek. “Consider that my official thank you” he said, cocky and teasing, but there was something genuine in his tone.
Your cheeks warmed, and a bright, teasing smile spread across your face. “I’ll hold you to that,” you said, your eyes glinting with challenge.
Seongje texted you some days later, insisting on taking you out. You agreed easily—curiosity, amusement, and a growing excitement building in your chest.
You arrived at the small café near the park first, sunlight streaming through the windows, and chose a table by the window. Your backpack slipped off your shoulder, and you brushed your hair back, laughing lightly at something on your phone.
A moment later, Seongje appeared. He strode in like he owned the place, cocky grin firmly in place, dark eyes scanning the room until they found you. “Well, if it isn’t cupid herself,” he said smoothly, sliding into the seat across from you.
“And if it isn’t my favorite troublemaker,” you replied, mock scolding, eyes sparkling with amusement.
The two of you fell into an effortless rhythm. He teased you relentlessly, cocky comments paired with flirty glances. You responded with equally sharp, playful retorts. The café felt small and intimate despite the afternoon bustle; the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you.
He insisted on ordering dessert for both of you without asking, choosing the chocolate cake. “Trust me,” he said with a wink, “you’ll thank me later.”
“I’ll forgive you if it’s amazing,” you said, laughing as he set the plate down in front of you.
“Don’t worry,” he said confidently, smirking. “I never disappoint.”
The conversation flowed easily—funny stories from school, teasing remarks about mutual acquaintances, and subtle compliments sprinkled throughout. He leaned closer when telling a story, and every so often, his eyes would linger on you, watching your expressions, taking in your smiles, your gestures, your laughter.
After the café, he suggested a walk through the nearby park. You strolled side by side, laughing, bumping shoulders, occasionally touching arms just lightly enough to send sparks up both of your spines. Seongje kept up his cocky front, but there was a softness in his gaze whenever he looked at you, a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist.
At a quiet spot by a fountain, he stopped and turned to you, dark eyes locking on yours. “You know,” he said, smooth and teasing, “I think the rooftop wasn’t enough. I need more chances to see you like that… smiling, laughing, just being you.”
You tilted your head, playful smile tugging at your lips. “I think we can arrange that,” you said softly, stepping closer.
Then, with a mischievous laugh, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. He immediately wrapped an arm around your waist, tilting his head and deepening the kiss just enough to make it thrilling yet sweet. Pulling back slightly, he rested his forehead against yours, smirk softened into something genuinely warm.
“Finally,” he murmured, dark eyes still locked on yours, “Been waiting for this, you know.”
You giggled, brushing your nose against his. “I’d say it’s just the beginning.”
Seongje grinned, cocky yet genuinely captivated. “Then I guess we have a lot more to plan,” he teased, leaning in to kiss you again, this time fully, soft and lingering.
And in that golden afternoon light, with the fountain sparkling behind you, a few days after rooftop chaos, the two of you officially began something playful, sweet, and utterly magnetic—full of laughter, teasing, and kisses that promised many more adventures.
a/n: I HATE how this turned out brooo T-T pls tell me I’m the only one and it’s not that bad because I rushed this one so bad :/
summary: you always knew that your boyfriend was violent, but after witnessing what he did to go hyuntak, the dynamics in your relationship shift drastically.
author’s note: i saw discussions online about whether hyuntak’s knee injury was caused by seongje or baekjin, but i’ve always seen it as seongje’s doing, so that’s what this story is inspired by. let me know in the comments what do you think about this! i’m lowkey unsatisfied with the ending but oh well (｡ᵕ ◞ _◟)
you belonged to seongje. that was a known fact. even long before you decided to give him a chance, he’d claimed you. made sure no one looked at you, that nobody besides him dared to talk to you. and if someone disobeyed… well, seongje knew how to take care of that.
but that was years ago. now, the two of you were technically happily dating. of course, your relationship was far from perfect. seongje wasn’t the kind of boyfriend who showed up at your door with flowers or planned cute picnic dates. no. his affection came rough around the edges. his kisses were messy and hard, and whenever he held your hand, his grip lingered — a little too tight, a little too possessive.
and yet, you didn’t mind. because you loved seongje. you loved him even if he was violent and reckless, because that was your seongje. you never doubted that he loved you back, either. he showed it in his own ways — switching his food with yours when he noticed you didn’t like what you ordered, letting you win in video games, throwing his jacket over your shoulders without a word when you shivered.
he didn’t say “i love you” but you didn’t need him to. you understood him. the language of his silence, the warmth hidden under the bruised knuckles.
still, lately… things had started to spiral. you weren’t blind, and you weren’t stupid. you knew how he was — rude, unpredictable, quick to anger. fights followed him like a shadow. but after he joined the union, it got worse. darker. the way baekjin treated the eunjang kids was cruel, and seongje, as his right hand, was always the one who got his hands dirty.
you’d tried to ignore it. to look away. to pretend you didn’t see the way seongje dragged some poor kid into an alleyway on your way home.
but one night, you’d had enough.
he’d promised you that tonight was yours. no fights, no phone calls, no union business. you’d dressed up casual, but cute, something that said you’d tried. his hand was warm in yours, and for once, it felt like maybe things would be normal.
and then his phone rang.
whatever he heard made his lips twitch into that cruel little smile that you hated.
“okay, sounds fun.” he said into the phone before hanging up.
“hey, babe, mind doing a little detour?” he asked, letting go of your hand to light a cigarette. smoke curled around his face as he exhaled, not even looking at you before turning down a different street.
“but you promised we’d get parfaits tonight!” you protested, half-pouting as you hurried after him.
he chuckled under his breath, the sound lazy, distracted. “don’t worry, we will. just hurry up, yeah? the sooner we get there, the sooner you’ll get your parfait.” his eyes never left his phone.
your stomach sank. something about the air felt heavier now, like the night itself was warning you.
after a few minutes, you reached the basketball court of eunjang high.
“seongje, for the love of god, what are we doing here…” you muttered, crossing your arms, anxiety curling tight in your chest.
he glanced over his shoulder, grinning “babe, quiet, okay? just sit there and wait for me.”
he pointed towards the seating area near the court, then turned towards a figure you hadn’t noticed at first — a guy in a gray hoodie, a basketball resting at his feet, phone in hand, back turned to you.
before heading off, he pulled the glasses off his face and handed them to you. “hold onto these for me.” he said casually, his voice low and steady, like he’d done a hundred times before.
you did what seongje said. you always did. you sat down quietly, the night air sharp against your skin, holding his glasses gently and watched him walk away.
you told yourself you knew what was coming. just another one of seongje’s little “lessons.” you expected him to rough the guy up a little, maybe take his money or his phone. nothing too brutal. nothing you hadn’t seen before.
seongje walked up to the unknowing guy, his steps steady, shoulders loose, that kind of calm that only made you more nervous. he called out “hey,” tapping the stranger’s shoulder, and before the poor guy could even blink, seongje’s fist connected with the boy’s cheek.
the guy stumbled back, startled, clutching his side as he turned around and at that moment your stomach dropped. it was go hyuntak. you’d heard that name before, whispered between union members and seongje himself. baku’s closest friend — the one at the root of baekjin’s obsession with tormenting the eunjang kids.
hyuntak recovered fast, pushing seongje back and swinging a punch of his own — sharp, clean, practiced. you remembered hearing that he does taekwondo. but it didn’t matter. seongje was faster. angrier. the kind of furious that didn’t stop once it started.
the sound of fists hitting skin echoed across the empty court. you looked away, pressing a hand to your mouth. fights weren’t new to you — but this seemed more violent than any that you’ve seen before.
then you heard it. a bloody scream.
you turned back, and your heart dropped. hyuntak was on the ground, gasping, one eye swollen shut, a bloody scratch in the middle of his face. seongje was on top of him, that manic grin on his face, eyes shining with something dark and unrecognizable. his leg pressed hard against hyuntak’s knee — the kind of pressure that made your stomach twist just watching.
“seongje!” you shouted, rushing forward, grabbing his arm “that’s enough! you’re going to kill him at this rate, please!”
he didn’t even look at you at first. you tried to pull him off, but he was too far gone “seongje, stop— ! please!” your voice cracked, tears spilling over.
finally, he snapped his head toward you, breathing hard, his expression cold. “baekjin told me to handle it,” he muttered “it’s not enough yet.”
“if you don’t stop right now,” you said, your voice trembling “i’m leaving you.”
for a second, everything froze.
he stared at you, eyes empty in a way that made your whole body tense. then, slowly, he let out a breathy laugh.
“okay. okay.” he stood, brushing off his hands like nothing happened “but if i get in trouble with baekjin for this, you’re the one explaining it to him, yeah?”
you didn’t answer. couldn’t.
he glanced down at hyuntak, who was barely sitting up, pain written all over his face. seongje grabbed a fistful of his hair and leaned in close, voice low “you’re lucky my girl’s here. she saved your pathetic ass this time.”
then he let go, shoving his hands into his pockets, and turned to you with that same easy tone that made your stomach twist, taking his glasses back “come on, let’s get those parfaits, pretty girl.”
you stood frozen for a second longer before following him, your legs shaking. you glanced back at hyuntak, whispering, “i’m so sorry…” before turning away.
the walk to the café was quiet at first. light rain had started to fall again, faint and cold, the streets slick under the streetlights. seongje hummed as he was walking, the faint smell of smoke and blood still clinging to him.
“damn,” he muttered, flexing his bruised knuckles, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin “that prick was pretty resistant, huh?” he chuckled, glancing sideways at you “but you’re gonna patch me up when we get home, right?”
he said it lightly, teasing — the way he always did after a fight. like it was some inside joke between you two.
but you didn’t laugh. you didn’t even look at him. your eyes were fixed on the pavement, each step heavier than the last.
the silence stretched.
seongje frowned, running a hand through his hair before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose “what’s with you?” he asked, voice carrying that edge again.
you swallowed hard, but the words wouldn’t come out. you didn’t know what to say — how to say it. how to tell him that the image of hyuntak’s twisted knee and broken stare wouldn’t leave your mind.
when you didn’t respond, he scoffed, shaking his head with a bitter laugh.
“do you care about that eunjang guy or what?” he said sharply, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and irritation. “you’ve seen me fight before. what’s up with you?”
his voice hung in the air — rough, impatient. you could feel his eyes on you, searching for something, maybe guilt, maybe betrayal.
you kept walking, trying to shake it off, but seongje’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly, stopping you mid step.
“we’re not going anywhere until you answer me,” he said, voice low and sharp, knuckles pressing just enough to make you wince. “you never cared when i beat someone up, and now you’re suddenly tearing up over some random punk?”
you avoided his gaze, your voice trembling but steady “why are you being jealous even now, seongje? no, i don’t care about him. it’s just… isn’t that guy an athlete? i heard at the bowling alley that he does taekwondo. why mess him up this badly just because of baekjin’s petty fight with his friend? it’s not even your problem, yet you got your hands dirty anyway… you didn’t just land a punch or two tonight, seongje. i felt like throwing up when i saw it. he’s in serious need of medical help, and you expect me to just sit and eat parfaits like nothing happened?”
for a moment, everything went quiet — the hum of the city, the faint smell of smoke lingering from his clothes, the weight of his hand on your wrist — all pressing against you.
seongje blinked at you, his expression dark but amused. after a long pause, he finally shook his head and let out a low, dry chuckle “okay, okay… if we call an ambulance now, will your highness forgive me?”
you just gave him a small nod.
you fished your phone out of your pocket and called, keeping your voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “uh, hi… i saw some kids fighting at the basketball court at eunjang high. it looked pretty bad… someone might be hurt. yeah, please send help.” of course, you didn’t mention seongje’s involvement.
you stayed few meters away from eunjang high till the ambulance arrived. you let out a long sigh of relief. finally, some weight lifted off your chest.
but before you could even relax, seongje’s hand shot out, gripping yours. he pulled you close, his dark eyes flickering with a dangerous glint that made your heart skip.
“now,” he murmured, voice low and firm “you have to promise me something. never reach out to him. never look for go hyuntak again.”
you hesitated, your stomach twisting, but reluctantly, you nodded “okay… i promise.”
a slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face. he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “good girl” he whispered. and then, finally, letting go, he tugged your hand as he guided you away from the chaos.
“i’m too tired for parfaits now. let’s just head home.” you said quietly, leaning a little into seongje’s touch. you weren’t sure if it was because you wanted his warmth or because some part of you wanted to reassure him, to ease the jealousy still flickering behind his eyes.
“yeah, sure. whatever you say, princess.” he murmured with a lazy yawn.
later, at home, seongje sprawled across your bed, one arm draped over your waist as he dozed off, his steady breathing filling the quiet room. you stayed still for a while, just watching him, tracing the faint lines of his jaw in the dim light.
eventually, curiosity got the better of you. you picked up your phone from your night stand and searched for hyuntak on instagram, your fingers trembling slightly as you scrolled through his profile. there weren’t many posts — a few from his taekwondo competitions, photos with baku, laughing and looking carefree. they were literally just… boys. it was jarring to see him so normal, so happy, knowing what had just happened.
as you scrolled through the images, your heart got tight in your chest, hoping he wasn’t hurt too badly, and wondering what exactly drove baekjin to treat him the way he did.
seongje stirred slightly in his sleep, tightening his hold over your waist. you lowered your phone for a moment, glancing down at him, and felt a strange mix of relief, fear, and love all at once.
a few days later, you noticed something that made your stomach twist. hyuntak had deleted all of his taekwondo photos from instagram. the competitions, the medals, the candid smiles with his team — gone. it felt like a piece of his identity had vanished overnight, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it.
you told yourself not to get involved. but guilt gnawed at you until you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed to know he was okay.
you’d seen which way the ambulance drove that night, and after some searching, you figured out which hospital he’d probably ended up in. you didn’t tell seongje. he’d made it painfully clear that you were never to reach out or even mention hyuntak again.
you slipped into the hospital quietly, your hood up, heart hammering in your chest.
“um… i’m here to visit the patient brought in from eunjang high a few nights ago,” you told the nurse, voice barely above a whisper “he was injured during a fight. go hyuntak.”
after a brief exchange, the nurse finally nodded. “room 214. but please, keep it short, he needs to rest.”
you nodded quickly and made your way down the hall. the antiseptic smell made your stomach twist even more.
when you stepped into the room, you froze. hyuntak was sitting up in bed, a gray blanket draped over his legs. one of his eyes was still swollen shut, a cut ran across the bridge of his nose, and his knee was wrapped tightly in thick bandages. he looked rough.
“you…” he said slowly, confused “you’re… that girl.”
you hesitated, guilt crawling up your throat. “yeah. i… i just wanted to check if you’re okay.”
he stared for a moment before letting out a small breathy laugh “you didn’t have to come.”
“i did.” you said quietly, guilt pressing down on your chest. “i feel horrible, knowing that it was my boyfriend who—”
“hey,” he cut in gently, shaking his head “it’s not your fault. you didn’t hit me.”
“but i didn’t stop him either.”
he smiled faintly, though the movement clearly hurt. “you tried. i remember your face. you were crying.”
you looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.
a pause. then he exhaled shakily. “the doctor said i’ll have to quit taekwondo.”
your head snapped up. “what?”
“my knee’s messed up. bad,” he said, his voice flat but not cold — more like he’d already accepted it. “they said even if it heals, i won’t be able to compete again. no tournaments. no practice. nothing.”
the silence that followed was suffocating.
you felt tears sting your eyes. “i’m… i’m so sorry.” you whispered, voice trembling.
he forced a small smile. “you don’t have to apologize for him.”
“still,” you said quietly “you didn’t deserve that.”
for a moment, neither of you said anything. the only sound was the faint hum of the machines.
then, after a beat, he asked softly, “what’s your name?”
“…y/n.” you murmured.
“y/n..” he repeated like it was a secret “pretty name.”
you forced a small smile and stood up “i should go. i wouldn’t like to cause any more trouble. i just wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“wait,” he said quickly, his voice strained “will i… see you again?”
you hesitated, hand on the door “…i don’t know.”
“take care, y/n.” he said quietly.
you nodded once and slipped out before you could cry.
a nurse entered just as you left, holding a clipboard. she glanced towards the door, then at hyuntak.
“your girlfriend seems really worried about you.” she said, scribbling something on his chart.
hyuntak blinked, caught off guard. “my—? no, she’s not—”
the nurse just chuckled “sure she isn’t. i can tell when someone cares.”
and as she walked out, hyuntak sank back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling — your voice, your apology, your eyes now haunting him more than the pain in his knee.
when you came home that evening, the apartment was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the tv. seongje was sprawled across the couch, phone in hand, his jacket tossed carelessly over the armrest. he glanced up when you walked in.
“you’re late.” he said, not accusing. just observing.
you forced a smile “yeah. stopped by the store. we were out of milk.”
it wasn’t a total lie. you had stopped by the store. just after spending an hour at the hospital.
he hummed, eyes narrowing slightly “is that so?”
you nodded, slipping off your shoes, keeping your gaze low. the silence that followed wasn’t unusual. seongje was never much of a talker, but tonight it felt heavier. it pressed down on you, the memory of hyuntak’s words still echoing in your head. i have to quit taekwondo.
“you good?” he asked finally, his tone almost casual.
“yeah. just tired.”
he stood, walking over to you. his hand found your chin, tilting your face up so your eyes met his “you’ve been ‘just tired’ for days now.”
your breath hitched “but i really am.”
he studied you for a long moment, then let go, muttering, “yeah. sure. alright.” he turned away, running a hand through his hair.
the space between you felt like a quiet accusation neither of you wanted to voice.
the flowers arrived a week later. a simple white bouquet, lilies mixed with small sprigs of lavender, wrapped neatly in paper. there was no sender’s name, just a small card that said:
thank you for checking up on me. i’m doing better now — don’t worry.
p.s. i got your address from the nurse since you signed it at the reception. i didn’t stalk you, haha.
your stomach dropped when you read it. the handwriting was neat, careful. it didn’t take a genius to guess who it was from.
you placed the flowers on the kitchen counter, unsure what to do with them. maybe you’d throw them away later. maybe.
but you didn’t get the chance.
the door swung open sooner than you had expected, and seongje stepped inside, tossing his keys down with a familiar clang “you home, princess?” he called, his voice rough with exhaustion. then he spotted the bouquet.
he froze.
“what’s that?”
you hesitated. “flowers.”
“yeah, i can see that.” he walked closer, his tone turning sharp “from who?”
you swallowed. “i don’t know.”
his jaw clenched. “don’t lie to me.”
“i’m not lying, seongje.” you tried to keep your voice steady, but the tension in the air felt suffocating.
“you think i’m stupid?” he snapped, stepping closer. “you think i wouldn’t recognize the look on your face? that damn guilt you’ve been carrying for weeks?”
“i told you, it’s nothing—”
“is it that eunjang guy?” he cut you off, voice low, dangerous. “the one whose ass i should’ve broken worse?”
“he didn’t do anything wrong!” you blurted before you could stop yourself.
his silence after that was worse than his shouting.
he stared at you, disbelief clouding into something darker. “unbelievable.” he let out a humorless laugh. “you’re defending him?”
“you nearly ruined his life, seongje!” you shot back, voice cracking. “you don’t even see it, do you? what you’ve become—”
“what i’ve become?” he took a step forward, and your body reacted before your mind did — you flinched.
just a tiny movement, instinctive. but enough.
he froze.
the anger drained from his face, replaced by something raw and broken. his hand fell to his side.
“…you just flinched.” he said quietly, as if saying it aloud would make it less real.
you couldn’t look at him.
he took a slow step back, eyes unfocused “you’re scared of me.”
“i—”
“don’t.” his voice cracked, low and unsteady. “don’t say anything. i can’t—” he turned away, running a trembling hand through his hair “shit.”
the air between you was heavy. he didn’t yell again. he just stood there, breathing unevenly, the weight of what he’d done pressing down harder than any punch he’d ever thrown.
you wanted to say something, hoped to sit down and find some quiet, peaceful resolution together, but seongje just grabbed his keys and left without another word.
seongje wasn’t supposed to be there.
yet there he was, standing outside the convenience store near eunjang high, smoke curling lazily from the cigarette between his fingers.
hyuntak showed up eventually — walking stiffly, knee still bandaged under his jeans, earbuds in. seongje almost turned away, almost let it go. but then he saw the crutch tucked under hyuntak’s arm, saw him limp slightly, and something ugly in his chest snapped.
“hey.” seongje called out, voice sharp.
hyuntak stopped, frowning. his expression shifted when he saw who it was “you’ve got to be kidding me.”
seongje dropped the cigarette and stepped closer, grinding it under his heel. “relax. i’m not here to finish the job.”
for a moment, neither of them spoke. the air was thick, heavy with things unsaid.
then seongje said “you sent her flowers.”
hyuntak blinked. “what?”
“don’t play dumb.” seongje hissed. “white lilies. a cute little note. that was you, wasn’t it?”
hyuntak’s expression hardened. “i just wanted to thank her. she came to the hospital when no one else did.”
“oh, so that’s what we’re calling it now?” seongje scoffed. “thanking her?” he took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “you’ve got a crush on her, don’t you?”
hyuntak didn’t answer right away. he just looked at him — calm, steady, too steady for seongje’s liking.
“you really think everything’s about you, huh?” hyuntak finally said. “i don’t have a crush on her. i just felt sorry for her.”
that hit harder than it should’ve.
“sorry?” seongje’s voice turned cold.
“yeah,” hyuntak continued, his voice quiet but sharp “because it’s clear she’s walking on eggshells around you. she looked terrified when i just mentioned your name at the hospital. and now that i’ve seen your face again, i get why.”
“watch your mouth.” seongje warned.
“or what? you’ll break my other leg?” hyuntak shot back, taking a shaky step forward. “go ahead. maybe that’s all you know how to do — hit things until they stop talking.”
seongje’s jaw clenched, hand twitching like he was fighting the urge to swing. but he didn’t. not this time.
instead, he just laughed. a hollow, humorless sound. “you think you know her, huh? you think you understand what we’ve got?”
“i don’t have to.” hyuntak said simply. “i just know she deserves better than someone she’s afraid of.”
the words cut straight through him.
for a moment, all seongje could do was stare.
“you should’ve stayed out of it.” he said finally, voice low, almost shaking.
“yeah,” hyuntak replied. “maybe you should’ve too.”
then he walked past him — limping, slow, but unflinching.
seongje didn’t follow. he just stood there, watching him disappear down the street, his chest tight, his reflection burning in the store window behind him — a stranger with bruised knuckles, hollow eyes, and guilt written all over his face.
you’d tried to stay awake all night, waiting for seongje to come back after he’d stormed out during your fight before, but he never did. you’d texted him, called him, each message and ring unanswered. eventually, exhaustion won, and you passed out on the couch, phone still clutched in your hand.
and yet… despite everything, you loved him. maybe that was what hurt the most. you’d seen him violent, ruthless, and anyone else would’ve been terrified enough to leave. but not you. you wanted to stay. but now, uncertainty gnawed at you. what if he decided it was better for both of you to step back so he could sink fully into the union, instead of trying to be better for you?
when you woke, it was just past six. the faint sting of cigarette smoke hit your nose immediately. your eyes fluttered open, and there he was — leaned against the counter, staring at the bouquet that still stood in its vase, a war waging in his expression. you softened at the sight, relief washing over you, but that was cut short when the smoke made you cough.
“seongje… it’s too early for smoking,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep. “open the window at least.” you moved past him towards the window, but his hand shot out, gentle yet firm, gripping your wrist.
he dipped the cigarette into the ashtray, then reached for your other hand, holding it too, softer than ever before. and in that moment, all the walls he’d built, all the cruelty, all the darkness… it seemed like it might finally crack.
“i fucked up.” he said, voice breaking, raw “yesterday… when you flinched… that was it. that was the moment i realized just how far i’d gone. i made you scared of me. the only person i love… thought i might hurt her.”
he dropped to his knees, which made you gasp, but you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a word at this moment. his eyes darkened with something you hadn’t seen before — guilt, regret, desperation.
“i got blinded by the union, by baekjin… i thought being strong, being feared, made me important. but it only made you slip further out of my reach. while other boys took their girlfriends on trips to jeju, wore matching outfits, took photos with stupid filters in photobooths… i made you sit with me in the dark bowling alley, surrounded by all the other union guys… i looked at you and hated myself in that moment, resizing just how much more you deserve. when we go out, i see how your gaze lingers at those couples, and i… i tried to be strong instead. strong enough to protect you at least. but all i did… was scare you.”
he pressed his forehead lightly to your tights, his hands wrapped around your knees, breathing unevenly, his voice barely a whisper now, hoarse from holding it in. “i know what i did to hyuntak… and i can’t take it back. i can’t undo it… but i swear, i’ll listen to you. i’ll try. i’ll be better. i’ll be the man you deserve. not perfect… not gentle like him… but someone who won’t make you flinch.”
you let your hands fall into his hair, carefully threading your fingers through it as your tears spilled freely. “seongje… what you did to him… you changed his life. but… i love you. i still love you. and i’ll stay… if you’ll actually listen, if you’ll let me guide you when you… when you go too far.”
he lifted his head slightly, eyes shining wetly, desperate. “i’ll do it. i swear. i’ll listen. i don’t deserve you… but i’ll do anything to keep you. please… please don’t leave me.”
you brushed his bangs away from his face gently, your chest aching. “okay.” you whispered.
and there he stayed on his knees, the rough, possessive edge of him still intact, but broken and raw in front of you. the man you loved, finally realizing the weight of what he’d done, and the only way forward was to fight not with his fists, but by being better for you.
fin.
if you’d like to read more of my work make sure to check out my weak hero masterlist !! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭
Summary: He seduced you for revenge.He ruined you for fun. But when his broken, pregnant victim has nowhere else to go, Geum Seongje finds himself playing a role he never rehearsed: protector.
Warnings: NONCON, stalking, emotional manipulation, betrayal,dysfunctional family, lost of virginity, pregnancy, angst, reader gets kicked out house.
summary: twins from the future go back in time to force both parents to meet sooner - and change their story.
genre: sort of angst, rom-com / word count: 5.1k
twinkling watermelon inspired (may be inaccurate because i've never seen the show)
warnings: mentions of car crash, season 2 lore, not proofread
<<< previous chapter
series special taglist: @doremichann , @iluvbeaaaa , @night-fall-moon , @ranposluvr , @carixie , @thegirlunivers-blog , @joshiji-darlingyuyuno , @misun1234
─────────────────────────
in the next week, you successfully got transferred into eunjang high school.
after meeting the girl which you met at the bathrooms, you couldn’t stop wondering.
she said that she’s from the future, ready to help you. was she just a psycho? or should you believe her?
after all, jieun looked almost identical to you. but some of her features were different.
this was so messed up. you had to be hallucinating or something, because there’s no way.
but you had to let it slide, taking in the fact that you’ve finally left the hell of a school.
your transfer didn’t go unnoticed, of course. on the last day, you got threatened again.
“switching schools like a pathetic loser?” “that won’t help you. we’ll always be watching you.”
was the words that still echoed somewhere behind your head.
but now, you were at least proud of yourself of trying to fight them back.
you didn’t feel like a coward. you felt invincible, safe even.
both jieun and woobin noticed your presence one day, wearing the eunjang uniform.
jieun beamed, turning to her brother. “it worked! she listened to me, see?”
woobin’s gaze followed the direction of his sister’s hand, noticing their mother.
you were obviously young, soft features illuminating your face as you looked at your phone.
“no wonder that appa fell in love,” woobin admitted out loud.
jieun, looking at her distracted brother, continued speaking. “our plan is working. we should think of how to get appa and eomma to meet eachother.”
he turned to look at his sister at the word plan, realising that he had to focus. “but how? appa is clearly not a ray of sunshine.”
“that’s because you’re a dumbass,” jieun explained. “you completely weirded him out!”
“but i didn’t mean to!” woobin complained about his clearly failed mission to talk to sieun. he never was good at that kind of stuff.
jieun shook her head in disbelief, her smart brain thinking of a solution.
it was really difficult. because what if they don’t even try to talk to each other? it had to require the must to speak, otherwise it’s over.
maybe, the only real solution to this would be something like asking for directions, etc. after all, you were completely new. sieun could walk you around the school!
so with that, she kept the plan in her head until the next day.
as both jieun and woobin began to search for you, the sister explained her plan to him.
“so,” she began. “we’ll get appa to walk eomma around the school. that way, they have to talk to each other.”
the brother nodded, listening halfway. but even if him getting distracted, he thought it was a great idea.
“you’re so smart!” he replied to not give himself away of not listening.
“i know,” jieun responded with confidence, her pace quickening as she spotted you.
this had to work. her plan was amazing.
you saw the siblings approach you, waving to them softly. you still were careful around them.
they still looked very suspicious, but also looked like they didn’t mean any harm. especially the boy.
“so, how was your first day at school?” woobin spoke up first, trying to not embarrass himself for the second time and also to shake off the nerves he started to feel.
you smiled softly, nodding. “it was pretty good. nothing special happened,” while you explained, jieun was looking around the room.
of course you had noticed, pointing it out. “are you searching for somebody?”
jieun jolted slightly at the unexpected question, smiling as if everything was okay. “nope! just wanted to ask if you know your way around here?”
you thought for a bit before actually responding. “i should know everything important… but—“
“so you need a guide. we know someone who could help you out!” woobin automatically spoke, mentally slapping himself for being embarrassing.
your eyebrows raised in confusion. “i just said that—“
“do you know yeon sieun? he should be a super cool guide,” jieun suggested, still searching for him. luckily, she did find him standing at his locker.
“here he is! i’m sure he could show you some places you don’t know of,” she pointed at him, making you follow her direction.
“… okay, i guess,” you agreed at the end, not wanting to argue.
your steps were slow, feeling the nerves pulsing with slight anxiety. you never were the one to speak to anyone first, fearing the rejection.
but you also seemed to trust jieun. so, you gained a bit of confidence and made your way over to the stranger.
the siblings watched the scene unfold, clearly impatient.
you tapped sieun’s shoulder softly, making him turn around. you already felt bad when you saw the airpods in his ears.
“hey,” you began speaking, fidgeting with the straps of your bag. “these students told me to ask you to show me around the school? i’m new.”
as you explained, sieun looked totally uninterested. that made your throat close in more anxiety, regretting the decision immediately.
“i don’t do that,” he replied shortly, turning around to leave. but he didn’t expect you to stop him and continue.
“wait!” you ran after him, looking a bit desperate. “i don’t know who else to ask. please, just this and then i’ll leave you alone,” you clasped your hands together, hoping to convince him.
when it looked like you had no chance, sieun suddenly took off his airpods. “fine. follow me.”
with that, the siblings watched you two disappear into the halls. jieun clapped in excitement, turning to her shocked brother. “see? i’m a genius.”
with that, you spent the morning with sieun walking you around the school.
the opportunity to make a new friend was never this close to you, and you happily took it.
“so… what’s your name?” you asked, wanting to know more about the stranger in front of you. “i’m y/n l/n! i transferred two days ago.”
sieun listened to your introduction, not giving you a reply of his own. “here’s the school’s canteen.”
you figured out that it would be a lot more difficult than you thought it would be. maybe he just didn’t like to share his personal information to others.
so you just nodded along, following him around.
meanwhile with the siblings, they both had been silently following you around, wanting to know how is the conversation going on.
when they saw the lack of words from their father, they both were getting annoyed at how difficult sieun was.
“why is he so closed off? it’s just a name,” jieun complained silently, getting a nod of approval from her brother. “she’s also really pretty. how could a man ignore a pretty woman like her?”
you continued to walk together, trying again. “you must be a really calm person,” that made sieun listen again. his back was still to you so you couldn’t see his reactions.
with no response, you continued. “i like calm people. the chaos is sometimes too much for me.”
sieun processed your words, actually liking your response. he actually nodded, agreeing with you. “me too.”
at the unexpected answer, you smiled a little at the success and continued to talk.
the air between you two wasn’t as thick anymore. it slowly disappeared as you continued to introduce yourself to each other. you didn’t know if sieun took you as a friend after this awkward encounter, but you for sure planned to get to know him more.
exactly what both jieun and woobin came here for.
after you finally separated your ways with sieun, you’ve become feeling less alone. you made a big step forward, earning yourself a new friend! you couldn’t wait for tomorrow, wanting to really get to know this sweet guy a bit more.
the twins were beaming with success, happy that you were really easy to convince in order to get their plan to work as soon as possible.
…
weeks passed, and sieun seemed to warm up to you a lot more.
and if it wasn’t enough, you got introduced to another three boys your age, making a perfect friend group.
you’ve finally felt less alone, more seen. the feeling of something new has already shaken off of you quicker than expected.
of course, the matchmaking twins had watched this evolve from afar, happy with their successful plan.
but as everything seemed to work perfectly, it created a new doubt that wasn’t invisible for any of them.
the only difference was that one thought about it more often than the another. woobin chose to not overthink it and enjoy the experience of being able to change the future.
but jieun took it really seriously, getting goosebumps from each time the thought crossed her own mind.
what if they change the future, but it means they could disappear?
what if they manage to make both of their parents live happily, but it means they would have to pay with their lives?
suddenly, their previous plan didn’t seem so simple anymore. it really was a difficult decision to make — for both jieun and woobin.
but then there was you and sieun; sparing long glances, hanging out with each other any time you could and being there for each other.
that always managed to convince jieun to just risk it. if it means that their parents will have a happier life, then she’d risk it all.
and with that, their plan continued.
their next step was to get them into a relationship. but how?
“think, stupid!” jieun scolded her own brother who looked like he didn’t give a single thought about the situation.
after a hard kick to his leg, woobin jumped in his seat and started to think. which obviously wasn’t his strong suit.
“i don’t know!” he whined, touching the beginning bruise on his shin. “if appa wasn’t so scary and difficult, maybe it would be easier to work with him!”
“then we’ll ask eomma how’s it going with him,” jieun suggested, earning an eye roll from her brother.
“real smart, jieun. can’t you be more obvious?” he complained, finding the idea boring.
“so you’re doubting me now?” she raised her voice in disbelief. “if i wasn’t here, you’d mess the future up even more!”
their bickering echoed trough the empty class to the point where they couldn’t even hear the door creak open.
when you entered to the chaos, you tried not to listen to the reason and stop them by placing a hand to both of their shoulders. “hey! stop bickering, the whole hall can hear it!”
they both jumped at the unexpected touch, immediately quieting down. when they saw your familiar face, they exhaled in relief.
“ah, i apologise,” jieun spoke, not daring to look at her brother. “he started being a jackass and needed to be taught a lesson.”
woobin’s jaw dropped open dramatically, choosing to stay quiet as he just mumbled something for himself.
jieun didn’t let you speak, immediately interrupting your thoughts with their own.
“how’s it going with sieun?” she asked, a warm smile capturing her soft, very familiar features. “we heard that you guys are friends.”
you blushed softly at the mention of your friend, clearly showing how much you liked him.
“i mean… we’re fine,” you spoke, lifting your weight to your other side. “we’re really close.”
woobin whistled in the background, making them both turn their attention to him. “how close? super, incredibly close?”
“not like that!” you called out, looking away. “we just really understand each other.”
jieun’s smile softened at your words, glad to see you happy. after all, that was their main goal.
“have you hung out yet?” woobin asked, trying to actually join the conversation now.
you nodded with enthusiasm, still smiling to yourself. “many times. but mostly because baku forces us to.”
both of the siblings turned their head to look at each other in confusion. “who is baku?” woobin asked, clearly not knowing who she was talking about.
when you explained that he was your friend, it clicked to jieun. baku’s name was mentioned in your diary — he was one of your high school best friends.
she wasn’t really sure, but back in present time, jieun had already met him before.
but that didn’t really matter right now. there were more important things to focus on after all.
after that little chat, both jieun and woobin were happy to hear that their plan was working.
it was really obvious that it’s going to work out though. like their parents were just… made for one another.
you’d love each other in every universe, both kids were sure of that fact.
…
today, you were specially hanging out with sieun alone. you’ve decided to go to the cram school sieun was attending daily, preparing for the finals.
it wasn’t much fun. you were listening to the teacher learning about nonsense you didn’t care to understand, doodling something to your notebook.
you only went to spend some time with your friend since you were always bored out of your mind and liked to be accompanied.
that’s why when the lesson ended, you had quickly packed your stuff and headed out with sieun beside you.
you groaned, stretching your tired limbs back to life. “how can you pay attention so well? it was totally boring,” you complained and questioned at the same time, earning a sigh from him.
“then why did you come?” he asked back, not really expecting an answer judging by your distracted expression.
“so, walk me home?” you suggested, wearing an excited smile. sieun didn’t even think, his expression turning stoic.
“i can’t. have somewhere to be,” he politely rejected your offer, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his worn out grey hoodie.
you smile faltered a bit, not expecting him of all people to be busy at this time of the day.
“where?” you asked, wanting to know more.
“the hospital,” he replied calmly, but his voice was much lower than before. and that’s when it clicked you.
you’ve heard about sieun’s friend, who was in a hospital right now in a coma. the rumours were messed up, making the situation sound worse.
to be honest, you didn’t believe them. you refused to think that it was his fault in any way.
judging by your sudden change of mood, sieun realised that you weren’t new to this information. he never liked to speak about it, unless it was really necessary.
but you were an exception. he learned to trust you, knowing you’re not the type of person to talk shit.
“… i don’t think that it’s your fault,” you confessed, seeing sieun’s stoic facade faltered into one of a soft shock.
from that, you guessed that right now wasn’t the best moment to talk about it.
that’s why you cleared your throat before you could embarrass yourself any further and smiled once again.
“i can walk you there, if you want of course.”
…
it all happened so fast.
one minute, you were laughing with jieun and woobin beside you, and the other minute and you were rushing to the hospital with tears picking up in your eyes.
neither of you had an idea what was going on. all that sieun’s mother told you was that you needed to get over there as quickly as possible.
and yes, you had already met sieun’s mother. she liked you very much, because you didn’t cause your son trouble like the others did in this hard period of time.
not to mention, the twins beside you were both very stressed, wondering what was going on.
jieun was already very exhausted from running, not being the athletic type. “can… can we slow down?” she breathed out, forcing her legs to not give up on her.
like expected, she got no response. but woobin just caught his sisters hand, helping her to rush a bit quicker. there was absolutely no way of stopping you now and they both knew so.
and with that speed, the hospital came to view sooner than expected.
you three searched for the correct room, clearly impatient. when you opened the door, the first thing you’ve registered was sieun, lying unconscious on the hospital bed. it made you immediately think of his friend.
that’s why you barely could hold in your tears. it made you feel guilty, even if you didn’t know that he didn’t do it intentionally.
his mother gave a polite bow to the two kids behind you, then giving you a hug of support for the both of you.
you broke down, crying into her shoulder. both jieun and woobin shared a look of empathy, knowing that now is not the time to intervene with any questions.
when you all finally sat down, all of you were quiet. none of you thought that it was ideal to speak at such unexpected moment.
jieun spent the time thinking of how tragic their parents’ past was. no wonder none of them wanted to share their stories with them. she would not want to think about moments like these either.
but on the other hand, that’s what made their relationship beautiful. it revolved on trust and loyalty, just like in any beautiful stories.
suddenly, jieun’s deep thoughts were broken by her brother’s voice who just couldn’t keep quiet.
“… what exactly happened to ap— sieun?” he quickly corrected himself, knowing that embarrassing himself in front of their grandmother would be even more awkward.
“the doctor said,” his mother sighed heavily, clearly still processing the situation. “he’s just sleeping right now.”
all of you turned your heads at the same time, clearly surprised by the information.
“what?” jieun asked, politely demanding more explanation.
his mother kept looking at her son with a weirdly calm expression — probably to not just crack right there. “he wasn’t hit too hard by the car, but his nervous system was affected.”
so that’s what had happened. it made the kids more upset, woobin even hunching his shoulders at the fact that he even asked.
“so sieun’s body took this opportunity to get fully rested,” the woman finally explained, but she sensed that you were still confused.
she saw your clutched hands in your lap, clearly worried for your friend. she knew that he meant a lot to you, and so did you to sieun.
she has always thought that you were the perfect person for him, since you understood him so well and cared to the point where it was even impossible.
“… so, that means he’s okay?” you asked quietly, hoping for the best answer.
“he’d been having troubles with sleeping for quite a while,” she responded, revealing some of his son’s big problems since the incident with his friend.
and it clicked to you. you’ve noticed that sieun was sleeping in class most of the time — now you knew that he at least tried to get some little rest to keep going for the day.
and judging by the things he had to go trough? you couldn’t find yourself to blame him at all.
his mother continued on, explaining how much his friend — ahn suho — had meant to sieun. it all made you feel weirdly guilty, especially you.
if maybe you met sooner, you’d be there by his side and help him out as much as you can.
when she was done, you slowly reached for sieun’s hand, taking it into your own.
with that, you felt your eyes sting again with such familiarity. and they let you express your hurt, because they felt it too.
as the kids looked at you, they knew that they would never see you in the same light anymore. they will see you as the most loving person on this planet, along with yeon sieun. the most strong and bravest person with a pure heart.
and as if you had casted some magic, sieun’s free hand moved to remove the mask from his face.
everyone including you had rose their heads, looking at sieun who has just woken up. his mother has stood up to check if he’s alright and then rushing out of the room to get a doctor.
to your surprise, sieun dodged your presence slowly, trying to get up. “… i need to see suho,” was all he kept mumbling, making all of your hearts ache.
jieun upon seeing the scene, she tugged at woobin’s hand as a sign to leave them alone which he refused to do since he was too curious.
that’s why she had to force him out of there with an accidentally loud thud of the door closing.
“are you joking? appa has just woken up!” woobin complained, trying to peek from the outside. that only earned him a smack on the head.
“this is serious! let them be!” she argued, but did the same thing. even if she had some respect, the curiosity was stronger.
back in the room, you forced sieun to lie back down with tears still falling from your own eyes.
“suho is alright,” you finally spoke, successfully calming sieun down. there was a minute of silence where you both just stared at each other, not knowing what to say or how to continue.
“do you feel okay?” you asked him, praying for the best answers. when he nodded, you let out the biggest sigh of relief and forced yourself to smile. “your eomma called me, i was so worried about you.”
while you were still rambling about how scared you were for sieun, he had noticed your hand still holding his.
so that’s what woke him up, he thought to himself. and without you noticing, he gripped your hand just a tiny bit tighter.
after a hour later, you found yourself waiting for sieun outside, along with jieun and woobin who stood by your side the whole time, trying to comfort you.
while you and jieun were speaking, woobin kept thinking about how messed up your and sieun’s past was.
if something like that would happen to him, he was sure that he couldn’t handle it. he wouldn’t have the heart to stay this nice after all of the trauma and pain that they have to carry.
sometimes, he wished to never experience this… weird state of situation. he kept wondering how did they even end up here.
was this just a sick dream? is this real? when he pinched himself before, it hurt. that means that they somehow had to end up in the past. but how?
and as the heavy mood was set, he also began to take jieun’s worries seriously.
when their plan will finally work out, will they just disappear? do they stay alive, or are those their last days?
when he heard his name, he shook his head to get back to the reality, meeting both jieun’s and your eyes at once.
“sieun’s back. let’s go home,” jieun spoke, ready to head out. but before they could, you spoke first.
“wait for me at the bus station right around the corner. i’ll join you guys soon,” you smiled before disappearing further into the empty hall of the hospital.
they listened to you, heading outside without any more words. in that moment, woobin finally had the free will to speak.
“i’m scared,” he voiced, making his sister look at him in confusion.
“about what? everything’s okay now—“
“i’m scared about us,” he managed to confess, stopping in his tracks. “what if we don’t make it back, jieun? this is sick… we shouldn’t have done this in the first place.”
“well, it’s late now!” jieun replied, her voice getting slightly louder. “we have to finish what we came here for, even if we have to give out our lives.”
that made woobin huff out a stressed out laugh. he feared the consequences of this plan. “it’s really easy for you to say, huh? if we didn’t snuck into that stupid diary in the first place, we wouldn’t—“
the familiar voice of your made him stop talking, both of their heads turning to you helping sieun to carefully step down from the stairs.
you stepped in front of sieun, still holding his shoulders softly. “are you sure you don’t need me to walk you home?”
he nodded, his eyes staring back at yours. he felt something weird inside of him.
on the one side, he felt very thankful for your presence, secretly appreciating the kind nature of yours. but on the other… he felt something a lot more deeper. it made his chest turn.
and judging by your own expression? you felt the same thing.
“alright, i will at least call you a taxi,” you decided, already pulling out your phone.
“why are you doing all of this? for me?” sieun asked bluntly, making your eyes rise to him in shock.
you laughed sheepishly, putting your phone back away. “well, isn’t it obvious?” she asked, trying to light up the mood. “who wouldn’t do that for their friend?”
“i don’t think that’s something that would only friends do.”
the air suddenly thickened with an unspoken tension. you’ve never expected sieun to be so direct — well, he always was the honest type, but just not in this type of situation.
at that moment, you really couldn’t think straight. all you have thought about was to just confess the long going feelings you’ve felt for your friend.
but you feared that your voice will betray you. that’s why you did the most impulsive thing you could ever do.
you could hear the loud gasp of woobin’s from the bus stop, but you didn’t care.
you kissed sieun, right there in front of the hospital.
when you pulled away, you immediately regretted your decision. his expression was unreadable, which made you really nervous.
but also, you knew that you couldn’t just take it back now. you couldn’t hide your feelings forever.
back at the bus station, both twins had silently celebrated the success of their plan.
and here it was; the plan is over.
what is the purpose of staying here now?
the kids looked at both of their parents in their youth speak about something, then seeing you turn around.
“i’ll go with sieun!” you called out after them, already holding hands with him beside you.
both of the twins smiled, putting their hand up at the same time to wave them goodbye. “see you!” is what woobin called out, even if there won’t be any tomorrow.
at that moment, as you two walked away hand in hand, woobin noticed his sister sobbing in happiness. “yah! don’t make me emotional!”
jieun only laughed to herself, more tears coming from her eyes.
she was just happy for her parents, not even caring about their own future — even if it meant that their future changed drastically for them, all that mattered was that they got a better life.
…
"don't even think about it," jieun warned her own brother, seeing him looking at the pink box with excitement.
woobin tsked. "you're no fun. don't you wonder what is eomma hiding from us?" he bribed, trying to make his boring sister get the hang of his vibe.
"it's protected for a reason, stupid!" she explained harshly, protecting her mother's privacy. "we're not digging into our eomma's belongings. and that's final."
the boy just groaned, realising that he doesn't need to listen to her anyway.
and with that he caught the box quickly, hiding it from jieun's grasp.
"woobin-ah! give it back!" she started to reach for it, getting into a stubborn fight with her brother.
but when woobin thought he had the box under his control, it slipped out of his hands and all of the things that were stuffed inside spilled on the floor.
and there it was. old pictures, some books that were already overused, keychains, bracelets, and a one specific notebook that caught both of their attention.
"y/n's super secret diary! (do not open if you're not y/n l/n :p"
both jieun and woobin shared a look, thinking of the same thing.
they both kneeled down to the small notebook, examining the outside of it.
there were many stickers, lots of small doodles and more.
it captured your personality perfectly.
they both realised that they basically got a hand on something very precious. but after all, they were just kids that were curious about everything.
"should we check what's inside?" woobin suggested, his hands itching not to tear it open immediately.
jieun rarely agreed with her brother, a small part of her also curious about her mom's old diary that could hold many secrets.
with that, woobin's hands slowly opened the diary, checking every page slowly with jieun beside him.
“04/03, 11:27PM
I transferred schools today. Some girl came up to me back at my old school and convinced me that Eunjang High was better. And to be honest, I believed her. At this point, anything is better than the hell I had to go trough every single day."
"... what hell?" woobin mumbled to himself, earning himself a smack on the head. "shush! i want to read."
"To be honest, I like it here. One boy from my class has already shown me around the school. I think that he's not much of a friendly type, but he for sure warms my heart up! He's really adorable :3 I'm curious how it will go... I still think that the girl is a weirdo ^_^..."
that was the first page.
the kids got even more curious now, reading trough all of the pages.
it mentioned how she struggled to make new friends, fearing of being made fun of.
but sieun and some other guys mentioned in the diary protected her, creating a friend group.
from then, the diary talked about sieun only.
it complimented every single feature of him, mentioned the good and bad days.
even the first date and first kiss. basically every single thing from their life together.
"ugh, so gross!" woobin called out, finally closing the book. jieun beside him laughed at his antics. "you clearly don't understand real love."
"and i don't need to," woobin mumbled under his breath, before their mom opened the door.
"what are you doing here? i was calling for you!" you announced, noticing the familiar notebook laying in woobin's palms.
it didn't make you mad. you only chuckled to yourself at how curious your kids were.
"we're sorry eomma!" jieun quickly apologised, noticing your gaze going on your old diary. "we were just really curious."
you snickered, motioning with your hand to the lower floor. "stop snooping into my business and go down. we're having takeout for dinner."
that made both of the kids yell in happiness and rush down as quickly as they could.
you closed the door, not before giving your old book a last glance. it made you think of the past, smiling at the memories swarming your mind.
their plan was a success. <3
─────────────────────────
very important note: ahh finally found some motivation to write this, thank you for all of your patience!! i feel like the end is kind of rushed, but i hope that it’s understandable and great! now i will FINALLY try to focus on requests ; ) ❤️
any kind of support or feedback is appreciated! check my profile to see if my inbox is open - if you’re interested <3
