Theothernads - Nadii - Tumblr Blog

COVET 𖣂

how far would you go for love?

your boyfriend jungwon has always been a kind soul. he refused to hurt a spider, much less a human, but when a new, younger, attractive admirer enters your life, something in him changes. as jealousy begins to consume him, and the competition between the two boys ensues, you watch your life turn upside down.

pairing: bf!jungwon vs. admirer!riki x fem!reader

genre: psychological thriller, horror, love triangle, established relationship au

warnings: violence, dark and disturbing behavior, substance use, murder, slow burn (only gets scary at the end) no mature themes! enha’s behavior and personalities are not a reflection of reality, it’s just a story

featuring: enhypen + mentions of le sserafim

playlist: runaway by kanye west, nowhere to run by stegosaurus rex, S.D.O.S by alex g, sour times - live version by portishead, violent youth by crystal castles, goth by sidewalks and skeletons

word count: 12.6k

taglist! @enhacolor @jwnghyuns @theothernads @adoredbyjay @firstclassjaylee @dollschan @enreveriee @surrik-i @jwonistic @laurradoesloveu @laylasbunbunny @tmtxtf

network tags: @kflixnet @kvanity-main @k-radio @enhypennetwork

see the trailer.

a/n: hello all! welcome to the first installment of fright night, my halloween series! I hope you enjoy ❤️

You had never considered yourself an overtly desirable person.

You spent the majority of your school years being ignored. You didn’t have many friends, and you spent most of your lunches eating alone. For a long time, school felt like torture.

Meeting Yang Jungwon felt like a breath of fresh air.

You met in your junior year. Neither of you were exactly popular, and you both seemed to have an innate ability to blend into the background. But upon meeting each other, you realized you didn’t have to hide yourself. Jungwon valued you for exactly who you were. And he valued you very, very much.

Before you knew it, you were spending every waking moment with him. He would sneak into your bedroom window after dark. You’d stay up until the sun rose, speaking in hushed whispers, talking about anything and everything. You quickly realized that he was the only person in the world who you could tell everything to. 

The last day of junior year, he kissed you under the willow tree in your front yard. You didn’t think you’d ever felt happier in your life. 

And suddenly, your life was all about Yang Jungwon.

You spent almost every day of summer by his side, doing everything imaginable. Picnics in the park, walks on the beach, night drives, your hair whipping in the cold nighttime wind as he sped down the highway, laughing. You had never been this happy before, and neither had he. Then, summer ended.

You didn’t think Jungwon had changed, but the people around you disagreed.

Jungwon grew a few inches over the summer. His clothes suddenly fit him awkwardly as he filled out in the shoulders and the arms, and his pants were now just a little too short. He dropped the rest of his baby fat, his cheekbones emerging from underneath his young skin. He cut his hair, and his long brown locks were suddenly gone, shaggy against his forehead. You had always thought Jungwon was beautiful, but suddenly, it seemed like the whole world thought the same thing.

You returned to senior year together, and the entire school began treating him like a different person. He received love notes in class, giggles and looks of desire as he walked down the hallways.

You were terrified that he would change upon receiving this newfound attention. But Jungwon never changed. He showed you off to his new friends, dripping praise. He took you to the parties he was suddenly invited to, and stayed by your side the entire night, even when beautiful girls approached him and asked him to dance. He told everyone he met that you were perfect, and nothing about you needed to change. And slowly, you began to believe it. At the same time, the world began to finally see you for who you were.

Jungwon was loyal. He knew he had found something special with you, and he never considered for a minute that he might abandon it. And despite rising in the ranks of high-school-high-society, he made sure you never felt left behind.

That was what you loved about him the most. He really never changed.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Halloween was your favorite time of the year. After summer, of course. 

You loved the scary movies, the gaudy costumes, the foggy weather with golden leaves. Not to mention you were a horror connoisseur, which meant you knew exactly what movies to play to make Jungwon freak out. He wasn’t a big fan of scary things. 

But you loved Halloween, and Jungwon loved you, so he did too.

You sat in the back of your class, brainstorming your plans for the month. You were 19 now, Jungwon being a year older. You were in your sophomore year of college. It felt like an eternity ago that you spent those carefree summer days on the beach with the man you had now been dating for four years. 

You were a semester into the year already, and you generally got to know everyone in your class. But the door to the lecture hall swung open, and in walked a face you knew you had never seen before.

He was tall, very tall. It was the first thing you noticed; how he towered over the rest of the men. His face was striking, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He looked a little younger than yourself. It was as if he brought in an icy draft with him as he walked inside, and you rubbed your hands, suddenly a bit colder than before.

As he walked past your desk, he slowed. He looked at you briefly, before walking to the farthest seat in the class, setting down his bag and crossing his arms. He didn’t speak to anyone. You attempted to ignore him, taking out your notes. But something in your gut told you to turn around, and there he was. Staring at you. You shook it off, too afraid to turn around lest he was staring again.

But when you inevitably did, he didn’t break eye contact.

You were a bit shaken by your interaction with the mysterious boy.

He intrigued you. Since you started dating Jungwon, you viewed thinking about other men as a kind of unrepentable crime. You had always been the kind of person who saved their heart for only one person. The lecture hall was almost empty by now, and you packed your bag. Only after a moment did you notice you weren’t alone.

“Hey.” he said. You startled, turning around to meet the eyes of the very boy you had just been thinking about.

“Oh, hi.” you said, attempting to be casual.

“I’m Riki. What’s your name?” he asked curiously, and you indulged him.

“I’m y/n.” you responded, unsure of how to introduce yourself, so you settled on reaching out a friendly hand. He stared at it for a moment, before laughing, shaking your hand firmly.

“Nice to meet you, y/n.” Something about him was inexplicably charming. He had seemed cold and unapproachable when he first walked in, but you felt the warmth of his smile, heard the wind chimes of his soft laugh. “Today’s my first day here.”

“Ah, new transfer.” you said, chipper as you began walking down the stairs. He followed you, a step behind. “Welcome to Decelis University.”

“That’s the first greeting I’ve gotten.” he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Nice to know I’m welcome.” You felt bad for him somehow. He was intimidating, that was for sure. With his angular face and dark energy, you bet people had been misjudging him.

“Of course. Always nice to meet a new student.”

“So, tell me about yourself.” you raised a brow at his odd question, but complied.

By the time you responded, you were in the halls, still walking together.

“Well, I’m a sophomore. I moved from Seoul, and I’m a psychology major. But I like literature.” you said, satisfied with your answer, confused when he shook his head.

“No, not that. Something real.” You considered it. Did you really want to tell something real to a man you had just met? It felt traitorous somehow.

“I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.” you responded, shrugging, and he smiled abstractedly at your answer. “Why don’t you tell me something about you?”

“Well, I’m a freshman. I just moved here a couple months ago from Osaka,” he added, and you nodded curiously. “I’m double majoring in forensic science and neuroscience, with a minor in psychology. Oh, and I like to paint.”

“Oh, an overachiever.” you said with amusement, and he shrugged, hands still in his pockets. “I know your type.”

“Trust me, I don’t think you do.” he grinned, and you laughed. You didn’t realize how far you had been walking together, and suddenly you were in the courtyard, rapidly approaching your usual meeting spot with your boyfriend.

And he was there. He was smiling, excited to see you, but his expression dropped when he saw you walking with a man he had never seen before, a man with the face of an angel and the eyes of a devil.

“Shit, that’s my boyfriend.” you said, suddenly aware of Jungwon’s presence and hoping he didn’t get the wrong impression. Riki hummed, a light smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“Oh, your boyfriend.” he said, enunciating the last word in a way you didn’t like.

“See you tomorrow Riki.” you said quickly, leaving his side to speedily walk to Jungwon, not waiting for a response. “Sorry, have you been waiting long?” Jungwon didn’t answer, his eyes still trained on the boy standing a few yards away.

“Who’s that?” he asked, and you tried to discern the tone of his voice, unable to. “A new friend?” You scoffed, waving your hand dismissively.

“Hardly. He just transferred to my class today. I barely remember his name.” you responded hastily, and Jungwon raised a brow. He chose to ignore any begrudging thoughts, placing his hand on the small of your back with a smile.

As you both turned away, Jungwon looked over his shoulder, gazing back into the eyes of the man behind you. He was still staring.

As a pair, you strode away to your favorite lunch spot. Jungwon didn’t want to think about this new boy, who he was, or what his intentions were. He assumed this was a confused freshman who needed help navigating the new school, and flocked to the nearest friendly smile and set of kind eyes.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this boy was going to be a very big problem.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon was upset.

He tried not to show it. He didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but he was. Underneath it all, he hated the idea of other men thinking about you the way he did.

Back in high school, a part of him regretted inviting you into his newfound popularity. You were beautiful. You were intelligent. You were funny. You had all the good qualities; the issue was that nobody but him could see them. By bringing you into the spotlight, suddenly everyone finally recognized you for what you were. And he quickly realized that he preferred when he was the only one that could see you.

But it made you confident, and certainly happier, which was all he cared about in the end. He let go of those resentments because he saw how much you loved being loved. You were a human being. He couldn’t be angry at that.

But this man, this new man, Jungwon didn’t trust him one bit. 

The truth was, Jungwon didn’t trust men at all. He thought men were loathsome, foul creatures. It was why he preferred spending his time with you. Every man he had ever met had some kind of twisted, sick problem on the inside. They just didn’t show it. But Jungwon saw it. He noticed the little things.

And his gut was telling him that this man was up to no good.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You worked at a charming American diner near your campus. Even with you and Jungwon both contributing to rent, you were barely able to afford your little apartment, so you took almost every shift you could.

You were surprised to see Riki walk into your restaurant.

“Hey.” he greeted you with a nod of his head, seating himself at a booth in the corner. He didn’t seem surprised to see you at all. “You work here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you stumbled over your words. You were shocked that he had so easily managed to invade an intimate part of your life, but it was close to the college, and you shook it off, knowing he likely wanted a warm meal after a long night of classes. You glanced at your watch. You closed in twenty minutes. “What can I get for you?”

He rolled his shoulders, not bothering to look at the menu. “Oh, just get me whatever your favorite is.” You scrawled an order down on your notepad.

“So, how’d you end up in my restaurant?” you joked, and he shrugged casually.

“What can I say, I like American food.” you hummed, turning around to take his order to the kitchen. He followed you with his eyes, leaning back further in his seat.

You tucked the slip into the order wheel, hesitating  to go back as you observed the frantic kitchen. It wasn’t like you had anything against Riki, but he seemed like the type of guy you tried to stay away from in high school, and that combined with his apparent interest in you made you nervous. Not to mention the fact that your boyfriend probably wasn’t fond of seeing you together.

“Your food.” you said, eventually deciding to return to Riki’s table. He didn’t seem remotely interested in the food.

“Sit down with me.” he requested, and you raised a brow at him. “Come on, it’s not like you have anything better to do.” he chuckled, gesturing at the nearly empty diner. It was now twelve minutes until closing time, and he was right, you had nothing else to do. So you took a seat.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked after a moment, looking pointedly at his food, which he hadn’t touched. He smiled, picking up a fork and taking a bite.

“It’s good,” he said, chewing. “But I’m more interested in talking to you.”

“And why is that?” you questioned with amusement. He shrugged.

“You’re interesting.” he replied, and you scoffed. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“So that’s why you’ve been bothering me?” He put a hand over his heart.

“Ouch. That wounds me. I thought we were friends.” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t contain a mild smile. He noticed, and smiled as well.

“Sure. We’re friends.” you said, resting your chin on your palm as you propped your arm up on the table. “So, you like American food?”

“Sure,” he said, not seeming very opinionated on the matter. “I was more drawn in by the ambiance. It’s a nice place.” He was right. It was a nice diner, with checkered floors, vintage movie posters, and intimate little booths. You were suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the romantic atmosphere, and swallowed dryly.

“Yeah, I agree. The ambience is kinda the whole appeal.”

“So you like nice restaurants.” His gaze was intense, and the way it drew you in made you uncomfortable. His charisma felt dangerously sharp, like a knife.

“That’s one way to say it.” you said. He grinned.

“So when can I take you out to one?” your amused expression dropped.

“That’s not funny.”

“It isn’t?” he said innocently, and you stood up, a hand lingering on the table before you glanced at your watch. Luckily your shift was over, and you had an excellent excuse to get out of this situation, and out from under his piercing eyes.

“My shift’s over. Goodnight, Riki.” you said firmly, untying your apron. He watched carefully as you strode quickly to the kitchen, ducking behind the metal doors.

You didn’t come back out, and after a moment of waiting, he left his money on the table and walked out the door, not bothering to finish his food.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki had been thinking about you all day.

He wasn’t sure what it was that attracted him, but he found you interesting. What he liked the most was that you were genuine. He had a good eye for superficial people, and you weren’t one of them. You meant everything that came out of your mouth.

Riki had been a heartbreaker in high school, and he planned on being the same in college. Not a week went by where his breakups didn’t scandalize the school, and that was just how he liked it. Some people thought he was a womanizer; he disagreed. He thought that attraction was power, and people should use it to their advantage.

The truth was, Riki wasn’t fond of men. He thought they were liars. Maybe he and Jungwon had something in common in that regard. He liked that women were honest, open with their emotions and intentions. Men hid their motivations, hid their secrets, hid everything. Riki was an open book. He told every girl whose heart he’d broken that it would end up badly.  And when it inevitably went wrong, he said I told you so.

And because Riki didn’t like men, he wanted to take things from them. When he found a man he didn’t trust, a man he knew was rotten, he robbed him of his worth. His happiness. His girlfriend. And he was going to do it again here, he was determined.

He didn’t trust your boyfriend. He may seem perfect on paper, but Riki could tell there was something rotting beneath the surface. Everyone had something to hide. And he was going to expose whatever your boyfriend was hiding. 

It’s what he always did.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had been watching you.

In his heart, he knew it was wrong. He had never not trusted you before, and he wasn’t sure what was happening to him. He was uneasy, anxious, and upset. Yesterday, the two of you had lunch and he barely touched his food. That night, he didn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like guys hadn’t pursued you before. In the past four years, boys would hit on you at parties, in class, even on your dates. He’d tell them to scram, and then you’d laugh about it together afterward. It had never bothered him when other guys were interested in you; if anything, it made him more proud of himself for being with you. In fact, he wasn’t even certain that this particular man was interested in you at all.

That was until he saw you having dinner together.

You were sitting in the corner booth. Through the foggy glass, Jungwon could see his face, smiling. His eyes were crescent moons as he chuckled at something you said, neither of you eating, just speaking. He couldn’t tell if you were smiling back at him, and he wanted to know desperately.

When he saw you get up and go to the kitchen, he checked the time on his watch. Your shift was over, which meant he needed to get a move on, and he shoved his hands in his pockets before speeding in the direction of your shared apartment.

He felt horrible about what he had just done. He knew he was your boyfriend, but watching you without you knowing felt like a crime. He walked with a pit in his stomach, anxious to beat you home. He didn’t want you to know he had been acting strangely.

He trusted you. He trusted you with his entire heart, as he had been for the past four years, without regret.

But could he trust the people around you?

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki was back in your diner, as he had been every day for the past week. You had given up on lecturing him about righteousness; clearly he didn’t care. You just served him his food, and as usual, he asked you to sit down with him.

The scent of sweet violet, cedarwood, and a little cigarette smoke filled the air as you sat across from him, and you found it extremely pleasant.

“New cologne?’ you asked. You didn’t like that this was becoming routine for the two of you, but you engaged anyway.

“You noticed,” he said happily. “Yeah, it’s new. You like it?” You looked out the window, resting your chin on your hand as you attempted to ignore him.

“It’s nice.” you grumbled, and he smiled in satisfaction.

He was Jungwon’s complete opposite. He was demanding, flirty, and charming in an aggressive way. His voice was deep and smooth, unlike Jungwon’s soft lilt. He was sweet, but not kind. Jungwon was the kindest boy you had ever met.

He forked a bite of food for himself before chewing in satisfaction. “So, are you ready to answer?”

“Answer what?” you asked, bemused.

“I told you I wanted to hear something real about you.” you laughed, recalling your first conversation, and it seemed like an eternity ago.

“You go first.” you suggested, and to your surprise, he obliged.

“Well, that’s a tough question. I suppose something real about me is that I don’t believe in love.” You raised a brow incredulously.

“Why is that?”

“Not sure. I just never have.”

“Something must have happened to convince you love wasn’t real.” He considered telling you, but his brain resisted. He wasn’t ready to spill his guts to you. Sharing his secrets would mean opening himself up to be vulnerable, and Riki hated being vulnerable. You sensed his hesitation, saying; “You can tell me.”

And despite himself, he told you.

“My parents never really loved each other.” he said simply, and you frowned. “For as long as I can remember, they’ve been cold to each other. Sometimes they fight. Violently.” He sighed, and you felt pity welling up in your chest. “I guess I don’t believe in love because I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t think human beings are capable of loving each other forever.”

“I’m sorry, Riki.” you said, and he shook his head, looking away. “But you’re wrong.” His eyes drifted to yours, and he raised a brow. “Love exists. Deep down, everyone has love in their heart.”

“People spend their entire lives chasing for love, and they still don’t find it.”

“That’s because love is work. Everyone has the potential to find it one day. You just have to start looking.” Your words touched him. He had never considered that love was something he had to work for, not just a concept that was driven by fate.

“Agree to disagree.” he snorted, and you shrugged, taking a bite of his food.

“There’s love everywhere.”

Instead of running away at the end of your shift, this time you allowed him to walk you out. The two of you strode into the cold night, you shivering in your tee shirt.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and you shook your head, covering your waist with your arms in an attempt to warm up. Wordlessly, he pulled off his jacket and hung it over your shoulders. You glared at him, but accepted it. From the pocket of his jeans, he removed a pack of red Marlboros, slipping a cigarette out of the packet. “Smoke?” he asked, and you shook your head. He propped the cigarette in between his lips.

“You’re a bit young to smoke, aren’t you?” you asked, and he chuckled.

“Every teenager has a bit of fun. Even if they’re not supposed to.” you smiled.

He was a total cliche. The leather jacket wearing, cigarette smoking, flirtatious rebel that flirted as easily as he breathed. And somehow, despite hating that overplayed trope, you found it endearing when it was him.

“Hey, Riki?” you said, and he hummed, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’m actually glad we became friends.”

“Friends?” he said, blowing smoke as his lips curled into a smile, leaning against the wall, a mere couple of feet away from you. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and he looked ethereal under the moonlight. “We’re not gonna be friends.”

You were about to respond when someone called your name.

Your eyes widened in fright as you turned to see Jungwon standed a few paces behind you, his breath visible in the fall climate. He looked upset, his pockets in his hands as his brows furrowed.

“Jungwon?” You quickly moved away from Riki. “What are you doing here?”

“My shift ended early, I thought I’d surprise you.” he was speaking to you, but his eyes weren’t on you; they were on Riki. He didn’t falter, taking another drag of his cigarette as he watched silently. “But I see you’re busy.”

“No, not at all.” you said nervously, taking Jungwon’s hand from inside of his pocket. “I just finished working. Let’s go home.” Jungwon didn’t respond, just turning around, your hand slipping out of his as he strode away from you.

“See you tomorrow.” Riki called after you when you didn’t bid him farewell, and you turned around to give him a glare, before dashing after your displeased boyfriend.

Riki was already making cracks in the foundation of your relationship. And that was exactly what he wanted.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You were wearing his jacket.

Jungwon was certain of it. After two years of living together, he knew your closet inside out; and he had never seen this jacket. The sleeves were too long for you, and they protruded just past your fingers. Jungwon could kill a man. Specifically, that man. After a moment of walking in agonizing silence, he spoke up.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” His cold tone chilled you to the core. You had never really seen Jungwon mad. Sure, you had your fair share of fights, every couple did, but they occurred strangely infrequently. “Who is that guy?”

“Just a classmate.”

“Why was he at your job?” You weren’t sure what degree of the truth you should tell him. You didn’t want him to think you were being unfaithful, that wasn’t it at all.

“He just likes the food, Jungwon.” That wasn’t technically a lie.

“I think he likes more than the food.” Jungwon was refusing to look at you. You had never seen him this put-out over something you did. You wondered if you had done something very wrong by being around Riki.

We’re not gonna be friends, you remembered his words. The smile on his face when he said them, how he sounded like he really meant it.

“Look, he’s just an underclassman. He’s new, just moved here. I’m pretty much his only friend.” Jungwon scoffed.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I feel bad for him.”

“He likes you.”

“But I don’t like him.” You stopped walking and tugged on Jungwon’s sleeve, and for the first time he looked you in the eyes. They were dull, a stark contrast to the usual youthful shine of his eyes. “Jungwon. I only care about you.”

“That can change.”

“No, it can’t.” You pressed a warm hand to his cheek, and you saw his gaze soften. “I’ve loved you faithfully for four years. That’s not going to stop now.” He stayed silent for a moment, then sighed, removing your hand from his face. But he took your hand in his, which you took as a sign that everything would be okay. You looked into each other's eyes, cold air flushing your faces until it began to rain lightly.

“I’m not mad at you.” he said after a moment, his hair dampening from the rain, clinging to his forehead. 

You brushed it away from his face and resumed your walk in silence.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You couldn’t be friends with Riki anymore.

You told this to Jungwon, who seemed more content than he had been in the past week. You, however, had a pit in your stomach.

You didn’t know why, but the thought that you would never see Riki again bothered you. His messy hair, proud smile, the scent of his smoky cologne. You weren’t certain why Riki had suddenly become important to you, but you knew it was wrong.

“So, your boyfriend told you you couldn’t see me anymore.” he said, holding his jacket in his hand. It still smelled like his cologne, and a bit like you, and he held it tightly between his fingers. He was frowning, and you realized this was the first time you had seen him without a smug expression on his face.

“No.” you replied. “I decided myself.” He sighed.

“That’s disappointing.”

“C’mon, Riki. You’re pursuing me. I have a boyfriend. It’s wrong.”

“That’s the great thing about life. It’s all about doing what feels right, even if it’s wrong.” he said elusively, and you frowned at him. “You should do what you want.”

“This is what I want.” You could smell his cologne everywhere, that stupid violet and cigarette smoke. It was distracting you from your thoughts.

“I don’t believe that.” You knew he was right, but his obstinance was pissing you off. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t care what you believe. It was nice being friends with you.” you readied yourself to leave, turning when he called after you.

“I told you,” he smiled for the first time during your conversation. “We were never going to be friends.”

It weighed heavy on your mind, but you had other things to worry about.

There was a party this weekend that you and Jungwon would be attending. Parties had never really been your thing, but a part of both of you missed the drunken fun of your time in high school, so when invited, you decided to go together.

It was being thrown by some boy in your year, a man named Jake who was infamous for his ragers, where people would fight to get in, and leave not remembering how they got there. Jungwon was friends with him, and assured you it’d be worth the while, which you hoped was true.

You pulled an old dress out of retirement, a lacy pink number that you hadn’t worn since Jungwon got it for your anniversary a year ago. There was something exciting about bringing it out of your closet, like a new start.

As you put on your earrings, facing the mirror, he circled your waist.

“You look beautiful.” he said, and you turned to kiss him, a chaste kiss that lingered on your lips. You looked back in the mirror, and you weren’t smiling.

Something about this situation felt extremely wrong, and you didn’t know why.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Despite the hectic environment of the party, you actually felt at peace for the first time in the past two weeks. The music was beating in your ribs like a pounding heart, and smoke furled through the air as college students went to-and-fro. Jungwon and you did shots in the kitchen, hands intertwining as you poured vodka down your throat, a burning sensation on your tongue. After a couple more, you were ready to dance. 

Jungwon pulled you onto the makeshift dance floor by the hand, and the two of you swayed to the music together. You caught glimpses of faces you recognized, but in this moment, it was just you and him. Locking eyes, twirling and laughing as you erratically danced to the pounding beat of the music.

Eventually, Jungwon got dragged away by a friend of his named Jake, a classmate that he had grown quite close with. You were alone, but you didn’t mind.

You had never been the kind of person to be embarrassed to dance. You felt like yourself when you were dancing, and you didn’t care what company you had; you just enjoyed the feeling of being free underneath the spell of the music.

And then, the crowds shifted, and everything felt still.

There he was. Alone in the center of the floor, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, his free hand moving with the music as he danced rhythmically to the music. Girls tried to dance with him, but he deftly avoided them. The way he moved was entrancing; you had never seen him look so light and airy, as he swayed and rocked, not caring about the people around him. You should’ve known he would be there, you could smell his cologne from a mile away, and suddenly it flooded your senses.

He turned, and as he did, he caught sight of you. His mouth curled into a smile as he continued dancing, and you just watched.

“Come dance with me.” he said to you through the crowds, and though his voice was quiet, you swore it reverberated over the sound of the music. As if in a trance, you walked to him, weaving through hordes of people. Were you drunk, or was he more beautiful than usual?

“What are you doing here?” you asked the instant you reached him.

“Am I not allowed to be here?” he replied. He didn’t stop dancing as he spoke to you, and you felt odd standing still. But you couldn’t bring yourself to dance.

“They usually haze the freshmen.” He gestured to himself with a shrug.

“Well I’m fine, aren’t I?” You didn’t know what to say. A mere two days after swearing you wouldn’t speak to him again, you had already broken your promise to yourself, and you cursed yourself for it. “C’mon, you’re not having any fun. Dance.”

“I don’t want to dance with you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” he said, but he paid no bother, continuing to dance on his own. You felt the eyes of the people around you as you spoke to him, some jealous, some curious, some judgemental. “Why do you care what people think?” You startled, wondering for a second if he was able to read your mind.

“I don’t.”

“If you didn’t, you’d be dancing with me right now.” He was right. That was the most frustrating thing about him; although he may be self-centered and smug, he was always right. Everything he said about you was as accurate as if he knew you for years.

So, to spite him, you danced.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had been watching you dance while he was talking to Jake. He liked Jake, he really did, but he found his attention drifting from his conversation to you, swaying carelessly to the beat with a smile on your face.

“Your girlfriend’s cute.” Jake said, gesturing to you with his cup, clearly able to tell that his companion was distracted.Jungwon sighed, pouring himself another hefty drink. He filled it to the brim with rum and orange juice. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, well, she’s cute. That’s the problem.” Jungwon took a sip of his drink and wrinkled his nose at the harsh flavor. “Some guy from one of her classes has been all over her. Some younger dude.”

“The constant struggle of being someone’s boyfriend.” Jake said, clapping him on the back. Jungwon chuckled, taking another sip. “But try not to stress about it, man. You’ve been together for what, four years now?” Jungwon nodded in confirmation. “She’s only got her eyes on you. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Jungwon said, feeling a bit lighter, and a considerable amount woozier. He poured himself another drink despite himself, attempting to tune out the sound of the music. Suddenly, it was too loud, and everything was a little bit too much.

When he looked up, his heart had dropped to his stomach. You were no longer dancing, and it felt as if a spotlight was shining on the man in the center of the dance floor, his hair gloriously messy from the moving crowds, face red from dancing and alcohol. You were speaking, he could tell from the way your lips opened and closed.

Jungwon was seeing red. He felt as though the air was being choked out of him, and he struggled to take a deep breath to center himself. The alcohol felt like acid pumping through his veins as he stared at the two of you through the crowd, buzzing like a live wire. He was angry, but most of all, scared. If you had gone back so easily on your devotion, did that mean something? Did this man mean something to you?

“Jungwon?” Jake called his name but he barely heard it, crumpling his cup and throwing it into the trash as he stormed outside, slamming the door behind him.

Jungwon had been sitting outside on the stairs for nearly ten minutes, and he had managed to cool off.

He had never been so angry in his life. Jungwon wasn’t an angry person, he never had been. He had always been calm and collected, bottling up any rage or resentment he felt until it subsided. But that rage was brewing within him like an overflowing pot, and something about this man brought it out of him.

The smell of cigarette smoke flooded his senses, and he turned. Behind him was the last person he wanted to see, smoking a Marlboro, and Jungwon wondered how he didn’t hear him come outside. His face was still flushed from dancing, and his lips were tinged with the faintest trace of pink lipstick, smudged messily across his mouth.

Jungwon had stood up to go inside when Riki addressed him, saying;

“Hey.” Jungwon didn’t respond. “Looking for your girlfriend?”

“You really get under my skin.” Jungwon grumbled, and Riki smiled. He should handle this like a mature adult, he knew that. So he attempted to. “I would like it if you’d just leave me and y/n alone.”

“Come on, Jungwon. You know that’s not gonna happen.” He tossed the stub of his cigarette to the pavement, crushing it under the heel of his boot. Jungwon didn’t remember telling him his name at any point during their conversation.

“Why,” Jungwon started to speak, feeling like bile was rising in his throat. “Why, out of all girls, does it have to be my girlfriend?” Riki crossed his arms with a smile.

“Because I see her for what she is.” That tipped Jungwon over the edge. He could no longer have this conversation, he couldn’t handle it. He strode to the front door, pulling it open as he rushed into the crowds. “Oh, c’mon,” Riki’s voice haunted him as he followed him inside. “Let’s talk, man to man. I’ll pour you a drink.”

“Get away from me.” Jungwon poured himself another cup and chugged it. He was going to find you, and he was going to end this. He had to end it somehow.

“Let’s not be enemies. It’s just friendly competition.” Riki said.

“What does my girlfriend see in you?” The alcohol was speaking for him now, and he slammed his empty cup on the table. Riki gestured to the dance floor with a smile, and only then did Jungwon realize that the crowds were watching him in anticipation.

“Why don’t you ask her?”

You were watching Jungwon from the dance floor, and the crowds parted like the Red Sea. You were frozen in fear, shaking as you brought a hand up to your lip while Riki snickered. The sound of his laughter faded into the background as Jungwon noticed your smudged pink lipstick.

His fist was in connection with Riki’s face before he could even think about it.

He heard you scream in the background but paid no mind, the crowds chanting ‘fight!’ as the two men tussled. Riki was tall, but Jungwon was stronger. Riki’s mouth spurted blood as Jungwon landed a punch on his face with a sickening crack.

Jungwon’s hand found the counter somehow, and his hand latched onto the handle of a knife, unsheathing it without thinking. Only when he whipped it in Riki’s direction and the crowd gasped in unison did his head clear, and he dropped it, his opponent barely able to kick it away from him in his weakened state. 

He wanted to kill him. For a moment, he was truly prepared to kill him, and he almost did.

Jungwon was so shocked with himself that the younger boy was able to pry himself away from his grip, getting to his feet and wiping his mouth.

“Psychopath.” he spat blood, grabbing his jacket from the floor where it had been pulled off, swinging it over his shoulder as he removed another cigarette. But as he walked out the door, he smiled, an ugly smile of sharp teeth and blood.

He had found it. That rotten part of your boyfriend, the reason he didn’t trust him in the first place. He had exposed it, and you had seen the side of him that you didn’t know existed.

He had a feeling that Jungwon didn’t even know that side of himself.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Everyone’s eyes were on Jungwon. You weren’t sure what to say as you stared wide-eyed at your boyfriend. You were terrified. The boy you were in love with had almost stabbed the life out of another person.

You attempted to rationalize it, desperately. You had just publicly cheated on him, and it must’ve been an uncharacteristic display of anger. You’d be angry too if you were him, maybe enough to kill. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“Let’s go.” you managed to say to him, and he brushed himself off, his head low as he roughly pushed through the crowds of people to get to the exit.

Fresh air felt like salvation as he heaved in as much into his lungs as he could. His head was beginning to clear, the adrenaline and rum wearing off as he stood facing the nearly empty streets, hands in his pockets.

“Jungwon,” you began, but he shook his head, refusing to look you in the eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” he said hollowly, and you bit your tongue, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “Don’t cry, y/n. I can’t take it.”

“It just happened.” you said in a weak defense, and he shook his head again.

You felt hesitant sitting in the front seat with him, but he made no moves to stop you, just reversing the car roughly and pulling out into the street.

It was a silent ride. The kind of silence that made you wonder if the two of you would ever speak again, and you were suddenly struck with the fear that four years may be over in one night. Because of one moment, because of one person.

“Are we gonna be okay?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes were firmly set on the road, refusing to look at you. He sighed, hands trembling on the wheel.

“I don’t know.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon hadn’t spoken to you for two days.

It was hard to avoid each other, considering you lived in the same apartment. But it was Sunday, and he hadn’t spoken a single word in your direction since you betrayed him two nights previous. And judging from how many times he’d ignored you despite pleas for his attention, he seemed to have no intention of stopping.

You didn’t know what to do, but you couldn’t stand the silence.

“Are you going to leave me?” you finally asked, choking down tears as you sat on the couch. Jungwon was in the kitchen, doing nothing but avoiding you.

“I don’t know.” Jungwon finally spoke, his voice a whisper. Tears began flowing freely from your eyes. “I really don’t know.”

“I know I can’t convince you of anything.” you surrendered, silent sobs escaping your mouth as you cried. “I won’t tell you to stay.”

“I love you, y/n.” Your heart warmed despite your sadness. “More than anything in this god forsaken world. I can’t bear being around you after what you did. But being without you sounds infinitely worse.”

“So what do we do?” He liked that you said ‘we’. It made him feel like you were a team despite what you had put him through. He set down the knife he was holding, his hands trembling as he looked at you. He could barely stand to see you cry.

“We wait.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

It turns out that Riki was the kind of person who fell deeply. He hadn’t been in love his entire life; he hadn’t even believed it existed until a few weeks ago. To him, love was a myth, as imaginary as unicorns or pots of gold at the end of rainbows. It was a concept, not a reality. But that’s the thing about not believing in love; when it hits you, it hits hard. And Riki’s mind was racing with radical thoughts, and mostly images of you.

He had called you twelve times since the party, and you hadn’t picked up once. You didn’t show up to class on Monday. Your boss claimed you called out of work sick when he went to visit the diner.

You were avoiding him. And in his mind, that was the worst possibility. But he wasn’t concerned; he would find you. He would always find you.

He just had to find out where you lived. And to do that he had to find you, which was seeming to be difficult. So he’d do the next best thing.

He would find your boyfriend.

It was difficult to find out anything about Jungwon from the internet. He didn’t seem to have a strong social media presence, but after a bit of searching, he found an account with a small following that seemed to match him. From there, he deduced that Jungwon worked at a tech company with a man named Jay, whose profile indicated that the name of it was Enhypen SK. A quick search told him that its headquarters were located downtown. Riki got into his car.

He rolled a crick out of his neck. He had been waiting outside of the building for hours, watching men and women come in and out, in and out. He sat in the front seat of his car, chair reclined as he observed with unrelenting eyes. Finally, there he was.

Brown hair flying in the wind, a cup of coffee in his shaking hand, the contents spilling over the edge as he walked across the street, holding his jacket above his head to cover himself from the rain. Riki could almost laugh at the perfect businessman cliche.

The building wasn’t on a particularly crowded street. There were no cameras monitoring the traffic, as few cars drove down the road. Riki realized with growing delight that there was nobody in sight but him. And Jungwon.

He was on the curb. Riki put his car into drive. The light turned red. Riki peeled out of his parking spot. Jungwon was in the center of the crosswalk.

Riki accelerated.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

You dropped the phone when the hospital told you your boyfriend had been run over by a car. You didn’t have time to think, abandoning the meal you were making, the stove still burning as you snatched your keys off the table and ran out the door without a second’s hesitation.

He thankfully wasn’t dead. They didn’t catch who did it, and Jungwon wouldn’t tell them, if he knew. He had a concussion. Two of his ribs were mildly fractured. He was bleeding internally, but it luckily wasn’t fatal. He had burns along his leg from hot fuel, and a facial laceration from rolling over the shattered windshield, a cut running from the edge of his eyebrow to the apple of his cheek.

The doctors were shocked he was even alive. The perpetrator had hit him at 45 mph, and he rolled over the entire car before hitting the ground. He laid unconscious in the street for 20 minutes, and had to crawl across the street to call for help, refusing to die. Considering his situation, he was lucky; he should’ve been dead.

According to the nurses, he had fought to leave the hospital immediately. He had jumped out of bed the minute he gained consciousness, which shouldn’t have been possible in his state. Only when they demanded he stay did he ask them to call you, and even then, he tried to leave constantly, surprisingly mobile and alert despite being presumed dead.

The staff thought he was a monster.

You ran into his arms the first chance you got, despite the protest from the nurse caring for him. You cried into his chest as he held you, stroking your hair.

“I was afraid you died.” you sobbed, and he shushed you soothingly.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, Jungwon. You don’t deserve this.” He had the feeling you were talking about more than just the car accident. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” he said, staring at the wall as he held you more tightly. When you released him, you checked him for damage, holding his hand in yours.

Besides burns, bruises, and the cuts on his cheek, he seemed surprisingly fine. He was sitting upright, speaking clearly, seemingly fine. But he was staring blankly at you. You saw nothing in his eyes, not a shred of hope, relief, or fear. Nothing, just dull brown marbles in the sockets of his eyes before he turned away from you.

“Who did this?” you asked shakily, and he clenched his jaw.

“I don’t know.” he responded. You weren’t sure if he was telling the truth, maybe lying out of pride or embarrassment. But you weren’t going to ask, not when he was in this state. “You know, I realized something. When I got hit by that car.” You scooted closer to him, brushing the hair out of his face. It was matted with sweat to his forehead.

“What was it?” you asked gently when he didn’t continue.

“They were right. Your life does flash before your eyes when you almost die.” he said quietly. “And you know, all I saw was you. My entire life, in one blink of an eye. That’s when I realized,” He looked at you. “I can’t afford to lose you. Not to anything.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” you said, blinking away more tears.

“I know. I’m going to make sure of it.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. “I forgive you. For everything you did. I don’t care about any of it.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I mean it. All that matters is that I have you.” His grip on your hand tightened, and you pursed your lips, pulling him into an embrace. He was cold as ice.

“I’m just happy I still have you with me.” you said hoarsely.

“I’m never going to let anything tear us apart. Never.”

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon knew exactly who hit him with that car.

He would recognize that face anywhere, even in a brief moment, in a mere second of terror before impact. A flash of those devilish eyes through the windshield. They were the eyes that haunted him, sleeping and waking. And he was determined to get revenge.

This man had changed him. He no longer recognized himself. He looked in the mirror and saw a man haunted by hatred, by anger, and by violence. In his many years of life, he had never despised someone enough to hurt them, and yet every part of him was itching to kill. This was a pest, one that Jungwon was sure to exterminate.

He wasn’t going to tell you anything, no, it would only stress you out. As a couple, you had been through enough recently, and he didn’t want anything else on your plate. You had enough to worry about, with him practically incapacitated.

You visited him every day in the hospital. You slept by his bedside, barely going to class or to your job, just holding his hand as nurses tended to him, doctors flitting in and out of his room. He only had three days left in the hospital until he was discharged. 

But he couldn’t wait.

You were dead asleep on the chair beside his bed, your eyes shifting underneath their lids. The room was empty. He ripped the IV out of his arm, getting to his feet.

Under any other circumstances, he shouldn’t have been able to walk. But Jungwon felt stronger than he ever had as he walked through the halls barefoot, his hospital gown fluttering in the wind like a ghost. He walked out of the hospital doors unnoticed, the concrete scraping against his bare feet as he started the walk home.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon owned a gun. It was something he never shared with you; he knew you despised violence. But he was a paranoid person by nature and the idea of a home invader, serial killer, a stalker, frightened him enough to need protection, a Colt Mustang XSP stored securely under the bottom panel of his bedside table. He needed to protect you; it was his god given duty. Fate had brought you together, and he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you.

He used whatever strength he had to remove the panel of wood, feeling around until his hand reached the hollow barrel of the gun.

Jungwon was a good shot. His father had taken him to a shooting range once a month from the ages of 10 to 18, god knows why. But he noticed something quickly about himself; he always hit the target.

One time, the supervisor at the range had told him he saw something dark in him. He had said Jungwon might not show it, but once in a while, when he was holding that gun, he could see it in his eyes. It wasn’t a good feeling, to hear that as a 16 year old. But now, he was beginning to consider the possibility.

Besides what you had told him, he knew virtually nothing about Riki. He didn’t know his dreams, his accomplishments, his past, not even his age. This didn’t bother Jungwon, in fact, it made him more relieved than anything. The less he knew, the better. It would make it all easier.

And now it was time to visit the little pest.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki was disappointed. In you, for ignoring him. In himself, for not finishing the job. And mostly in Jungwon, for refusing to die. He hit him at 45 miles per hour, that should’ve killed him. When he visited the hospital under the guise that he was his cousin, they told him he was bleeding internally, that it might be fatal. And yet, he was alive. He knew it for a fact; Riki waited outside the hospital until you showed up. And you didn’t leave, you never left. Which meant Jungwon was still in there.

It seemed like Jungwon would need something more fatal, which was upsetting. It was the perfect set up; the street was empty, there were no cameras, no witnesses. Jungwon wouldn’t live to tell the tale. Riki prayed that Jungwon didn’t recognize him, if he did, he’d surely tell you. Then he’d really lose you for good.

He was parked outside the hospital for the third day in a row, just waiting to catch you alone. He hoped your boyfriend was in a coma, maybe unable to speak, maybe mentally damaged. He rolled his shoulders, tense with worry and from sitting in the leather seat for so long. The hood of his old silver car was bent from the impact of Jungwon’s body slamming against it, and his license plate was barely hanging on for dear life. He didn’t pay attention to it.

The only thing he cared about was ending him for good.

On the other side of the city, Jungwon had just walked into the housing office of his university. The door creaked as he forced it open, his shoes clicking on the tile floor. He knew a man who worked in the office, a friend of his who played secretary at the front desk. That was the nice thing about being a good person; you make connections everywhere you go.

“Sunghoon.” Jungwon said, and his voice was hollow. The man looked up from his keyboard, pushing his glasses up his forehead with a faint smile.

“Hey,” he said in greeting. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I need a favor.” Sunghoon was immediately concerned with Jungwon’s appearance. He had changed from his gown into normal clothes, but the open cut on his face and the bags under his eyes told the story of what had happened to him. Bruises were littered across his right cheek, and a part of his hair was singed, just below the ear, barely noticeable. He stumbled on his left leg when he walked and he held his ribs tightly with one of his hands.

“Are you okay?” Sunghoon asked with concern.

“I got hit by a car.” he said, and Sunghoon frowned.

“Jesus.” “I need an address.” Sunghoon gestured for him to continue. He knew he wasn’t supposed to give away information like this, but Jungwon was trustworthy. Throughout their friendship, he had shown he was a kind man. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. “Freshman named Riki Nishimura.” Sunghoon’s fingers flew across his keyboard.

“Edge of town. Building code is 3405, apartment 2.” Sunghoon recited off the screen, his glasses back on his nose as he read.

“Thanks.” Jungwon said, turning on his heel.

“Don’t you want me to write it down for you?” Sunghoon called after him, and he waved him off, swinging the door open.

“I’ll remember it.”

And he did. Twenty minutes later, he was parked outside.

It was the kind of apartment that had separate units and entrances. The other three apartments seemed completely empty, and the neighborhood seemed practically deserted, if you could even call it a neighborhood. There were two houses down the road, one of which was boarded up, the other was for sale. Then a dead end, the street abruptly stopping in brick and barbed wire. It was good for Jungwon’s situation. It wasn’t like he wanted anyone to hear what he was about to do.

He got out of his car, hand deep in the recesses of his jacket. He rapped on the door, once, twice, thrice. Then he removed the gun from the waistline of his pants, cocking it in a fluid motion and shooting off the lock.

Metal scraps exploded across the steps of the apartment, and the doorknob hung loosely from its socket, the metal lock missing a keyhole, replaced with a burning hot cavity. Jungwon turned the doorknob, and the door swung open easily.

“House call,” he said, his voice echoing around the empty apartment. “Anyone home?” He peeked his head into the kitchen, the living room. Nobody. His free hand fingered the case of bullets in his jacket pocket. He brought the gun for intimidation only; he didn’t think Riki would be stupid enough to make him use it. But he had 17 rounds left in the magazine of his pistol, and he was planning to spend them all if necessary.

It didn’t seem like Riki was home. Jungwon cracked his neck, irritated. He had run out of the hospital on injured legs and a fractured rib, just to be disappointed. He wondered where Riki could possibly be, and hoped he wasn’t anywhere near you. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, keeping his gun by his side. He had 27 missed calls and 45 missed texts, and they were all from you. He tucked it away, trying to push the thought of you out of his head.

He was doing this for you. You’d understand that.

While he was there, he figured he might as well look around. After all, Riki didn’t seem to be home, and he had gone through the effort of blowing off his locks. He creeped up the stairs cautiously, careful to keep his gun ahead of him before he took a step. On the right, there was a bathroom, grimy in the way expected of a teenage boy. On the left was Riki’s room. His closet was the largest thing in the room, stacked to the brim with clothing. It seemed like Riki preferred designer brands over an expensive apartment, and Jungwon pocketed a silver watch sitting on his bedside table.

There was only one more room at the end of the hall. Its door stood slightly ajar, and he could see beams of sun hitting the chestnut floor through the slit. Jungwon walked cautiously towards it, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he pushed the door open.

His eyes widened, pupils dilated. He instinctively took a step back, his gun clattering to the floor as his gaze flitted from the ceiling to the floor, wall to wall. He recoiled from the room, as if it would infect him, shivering with fear. He hadn’t seen anything like this. Not from anyone.

Jungwon’s own eyes watched him from every corner of the room. Photos of himself lined the walls, sporadically pasted against the blue wallpaper. Some were photos he had taken of himself, some that you had taken, accessible through his socials. But the vast majority were photos he had never seen, taken from afar of him at the grocery store inspecting a peach, chatting with a classmate in class, working at his job, his face lit up by his computer on the second floor.

And in the center of the room was you. Your face was painted on a canvas, big enough to almost reach Jungwon’s height, painted intricately with the hand of someone who truly loved their subject. It was as if you were alive and breathing before him, and for a minute, he admired you despite himself. Scrawled at the bottom of the canvas were a mere five words;

I have to save her.

Jungwon was horrified. He felt sick to his stomach with the sudden urge to vomit, and he attempted to control himself, breathing shallowly as he bent to pick up his gun. He aimed it shakily, and it was the first time he trembled while holding a pistol in his hands. He fired ten rounds, each scarring the wall as they tore through the canvas.

Your face was a mess of torn paper and sizzling paint when he was done, and it pained him to see. Jungwon grit his teeth, tucking his gun back into the waistband of his pants as he turned around to exit this god forsaken house.

Now Riki really had to die.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Riki arrived home, and the first thing he noticed was the ten bullets sitting underneath the window of his painting room. If he had walked past just a bit faster, if he wasn’t looking at the ground, he would’ve missed them. But he didn’t, and he bent down to pick them up, the casings barely still warm. When he looked up, there were ten matching holes in the wall. He was immediately on high alert.

When he removed his keys from his pocket, he quickly realized he didn’t need them. Shards of protruding metal, burnt black at the edges, became what once was the lock to his door. The wooden door was ajar, and he opened it as quietly as possible.

He slipped off his shoes at the door, his footsteps silent as he walked through his home. His living room and kitchen looked completely untouched. His nerves burning with fear, Riki reached for a knife, his trembling hands gripping the handle as the metal glinted in whatever dim daylight remained as the sun began to fall below the horizon.

The stairs moaned under his feet as he walked towards the room at the end of the hallway. It didn’t look like anyone had even entered his home; everything was the way he left it. But when he opened the door to that room, he felt like he could cry.

Ten bullet holes. Ten scarred, singed cavities in your gaping face, the canvas torn and burned until you were completely unrecognizable.

His art. The only thing he had been living for. It was destroyed, and he knew exactly who to blame. Tears ran down his face as he approached it, the knife forgotten in his hand while he caressed the mutilated canvas.

I have to save her. Those scrawled words remained untouched at the bottom of his creation, and he ran his hand over them. They rang true.

If Jungwon did this, and Riki knew he did, then he was dangerous. And that meant he had to save you before you ended up like the shredded painting he had so devoutly adored.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

Jungwon had fled the hospital without warning at 5:32 pm. It was 9:00 pm, and you hadn’t heard a word from your boyfriend

You were worried sick. He was hurt, too hurt to be wandering the streets, getting into fights, doing whatever he was doing. You checked his work, but they hadn’t caught sight of him since he left, on the day he was almost killed. None of his teachers had heard from him, nor had his friends. You must’ve called him a hundred times, and not once did he pick up. So, despite yourself, you did the only thing you could think of.

It’s not like you couldn’t guess who’d hit your boyfriend with their car. Jungwon’s unwillingness to tell you about the accident was an immediate red flag, not to mention his sudden switch in attitude. His workplace was in an isolated, corporate area where not many people drove, and it seemed too convenient to be an accident. Not many people had a vendetta against Jungwon, he was too kind to have enemies; except one.

He picked up on one ring, and the other side of the phone was quiet except for the gentle sound of his breathing.

“Riki,” you said, attempting to stabilize your trembling voice. “Let’s meet.”

Riki didn’t ask any questions. He agreed without hesitation, and a part of you almost felt bad. After all, what if he didn’t hit him? What if you were wrong?

But you couldn’t afford to doubt yourself, and you tucked a canister of pepper spray into your pocket before grabbing your keys and running downstairs. In case Jungwon was in trouble, you didn’t have any time to waste.

You were so distracted, you had even forgotten it was Halloween.

You had asked Riki to meet you across town. You knew there was a large construction lot a couple miles behind your school, where nobody ever visited, rarely even the construction workers, especially not at this hour. You needed to get him in a place where nobody would hear you. If he was willing to admit anything that had happened between him and Jungwon, he wouldn’t do it in front of an audience.

You could feel his presence before you saw him. When you heard his slow footsteps through the soft, unpaved ground, it felt like the world had gone black. Something in him had changed. You used to feel joy and love at the sound of his voice and the scent of his cologne, but now it made you uneasy. 

“Y/n?” he said, and you saw the dark silhouette morph into his fine features and unkempt hair as he stepped closer. He stopped a few paces away from you, and you attempted to smile.

Before you knew it, he had pulled you into his arms, and you were swimming in his leather jacket, his grip almost painful. The scent of violets and cigarettes drowned you. You felt like you could throw up.

“I’ve been so worried about you.” his voice trembled as he spoke, and you gradually wrapped your arms around him. “Where have you been?”

“The hospital.” you said, your voice a whisper. He released you, and the confused look in his eyes was almost enough to convince you he was innocent. “Jungwon…he got hit by a car.”

“Is he alright?”

“No. But we’ll be okay.” Riki didn’t like that you said ‘we’. It seemed you didn’t care if your boyfriend had almost killed him. It was like he didn’t matter to you.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” he asked in hushed tones.

“I didn’t know what to think.” You wiped away a tear, not even knowing you were crying. “After what happened that weekend-”

“He almost killed me.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” There was hurt in his eyes, and you didn’t recognize him. The smug, arrogant boy you had known was nowhere to be seen.

“How can you say that?” You shook your head, wiping away more tears. “I don’t care about him, y/n. We have something special.”

“Riki, I can’t.”

“Don’t I matter to you?” he implored, reaching for your hand, holding it tightly like he might not get the chance ever again. He wouldn’t.

“Of course you do. But Riki, I don’t love you.”

“That’s a lie!” he shouted, and the sudden switch in volume made you shudder in fear. “You do love me. You’re just afraid.”

“Of what, Riki? Of you? I’m not scared, I’m an adult, I know what I want. You’re just a confused boy who thinks he’s in love with a girl he can’t have.”

“That’s not true.” he said it so willfully, you almost believed him. “You don’t understand, you just don’t understand. Since I met you, you’re all I can think about. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. I even-” He cut himself off. He froze, and the only sound was the cold wind as you two stared at each other.

“Even?” you whispered, and he set his jaw.

“I even tried to kill him.” 

You felt like your world was crashing down around you. You had imagined a million possibilities in your relationship with Riki. You had imagined kicking him to the curb, indulging in his affections until he got bored, you even imagined leaving Jungwon for him. But in none of your fantasies had you believed him capable of murder.

Your eyes widened in terror, lips trembling, and he could sense your fear.

“Don’t be scared.” he said, coming closer, and you took a step back. “I’m not a killer, y/n. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But you tried to.” you said, and his eyes darkened. “You tried to kill my boyfriend. You’re not in love with me, Riki, someone who loved me wouldn’t try to do that. That’s not love, it’s obsession.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You don’t know what you’re doing.” You grew closer to him, placing a warm hand against his cheek. “You have a life outside me. We’re young. Don’t waste your time chasing me and hurting people.”

“Don’t say that,” he repeated, his eyes red with suppressed tears. “I would do anything for you. I love you, I’ve never felt that way about anyone.” You attempted to pay attention to what he was saying, but a twig cracked in the background, drowned out by the sound of his words, but you were listening. You looked over his shoulder. “I can’t be away from you, y/n, I can’t take it.”

“Riki, I can’t be with you. Not now, not ever.”

“Is it because of Jungwon?” he asked, and you shook your head. “I don’t care who’s in my way. I’ll take care of it.”

A ghostly face appeared in the distance, just barely lit enough for you to recognize him. That scar on his face, those bright doe eyes turned dull, you knew that face anywhere. Riki continued to speak, and Jungwon put a silent finger over his mouth.

Something about this situation was wrong. You had this overwhelming sense of terror, and it had its claws around your lungs, draining you of all the breath and blood in your body. Every nerve and cell in your body was screaming, writhing restlessly in white hot pain. Jungwon stepped closer, and your shoulders shook fearfully.

“Riki. I don’t want you to hurt him.” you said, and Riki grabbed your face, his cold fingers gently gripping your chin.

“I don’t care.” he said, and his words cut you like a knife. “I’ll do whatever it takes. You belong with me.”

There was a barrel of a gun, and you felt a strangled scream rising in your throat when you saw that Jungwon was holding it. And the edge of it was directly pointed at the back of Riki’s head.

You tried to scream, you tried to warn him, but there was no time. You dropped to your knees as the blast rang through the empty air, a flash of white and red lighting up the air like fireworks as you covered your ears. An explosion of blood wet the ground, painted strokes of crimson hitting your face and shoes. A silent scream escaped your mouth as Riki’s lifeless body crumpled to the floor inches from where you sat, as terribly beautiful as ever, his wide and fear-stricken eyes immortalized as he stared at you. The last thing he loved before he died.

It was funny, seeing a human die. You thought that you would cry, wail, kick and scream as you brutally mourned the life of someone you had loved.  A life that ended in an instant, as easy as pulling a trigger. But you didn’t cry. You just sat there, helpless and silent, waves of grief, dread, anger, every emotion running through you as your eyes and mouth went dry with fear.

Jungwon was a new man. He stood above you, not even looking at the man he had just killed, only looking at you. His eyes seemed black in the night, unforgiving and unapologetic as he gripped the gun in his hand, the barrel covered in blood.

Pools of crimson blood soaked into the soft ground as Riki laid unmoving, the contents of his head spilled across the dirt. His mouth was open in a silent plea, one that nobody would hear, not even God.

Jungwon kneeled in front of you, and a single tear ran down his face as he desperately searched your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Oh, God.” you said, your voice hollow and unrecognizable.

“I’m sorry.” he said, and for the first time in months, he sounded fully alive. His voice regained its fullness, no longer slouching and frowning, radiating the power he had lost. “I had to do it. You know I had to.” His hands were covered in blood. There were splatters across his face, and you couldn’t distinguish between the blood running from his own cuts and the blood of the man he had just killed. You felt an overwhelming urge to vomit, and you gagged as you tried to hold it back.

“Jungwon,” you said, voice breaking midway through as you began to cry salty tears. “God, Jungwon, oh my God.”

You had no fight left in you. You felt like a hollow shell as you sat there on the floor, the man whom you loved soaked in the blood of someone you had called a friend. Maybe more than that. You wished you could disappear, that everything would go away, that this would have never happened.

“I’m sorry.” he said, and he pulled you into an embrace. 

Despite feeling repulsed by his touch, you craved his skin and his love, so you let him hold you in his blood stained clothes, you let his soiled hands stroke your hair until it was wet with blood. 

“I told you,” he said, quietly. “I would never let anything tear us apart.”

You didn’t have the strength to respond, just sobbing until you couldn’t anymore, until the life and tears were drained out of you, until your heart felt like it would stop. Jungwon held you, his own heart beating as fast as lightning, the breath of life rushing through him. Riki didn’t move an inch, didn’t come back to life no matter how hard you cried. And Jungwon was delighted.

Maybe there was something dark in Jungwon. Or maybe he was sane, in a world where you have to do unspeakable things to protect what you love.

And as he held you, sobbing in the night air, your tears mingling with the blood on your face, he began to realize he was just a man. A sick man.

Just as bad as the rest of them.

𖣂 𖣂 𖣂

back to the masterlist.

THE MAN HE IS

When will Beshit- I mean, Belift, stop setting Enha up. Like wdym u r collabing with McDonald's in Japan.

I am aware that Japan McDonald's may not support or fund Israhell, but that global + American Brand is still being promoted, that video is available for EVERYONE to see.

And I just know that Riki will either get massive amnt of hate for smth his stupid ass company made him do, or his company may acc protect their artists (and we know how that goes). Obviously, it doesn't excuse the fact that Riki was in the promo video, but all I can say is that ppl should not hate on Riki, rather they should take account of BELIFT without insulting riki's entire existence and explain why this is problematic. That's the best way to raise attention. And this is not just for Riki, but also for other groups that have to promote these shitty ass companies bc their company said so.

Riki has already got sm unnecessary hate before, and if he gets it again bc people are not taking account of the situation in a proper manner (as in, they are hating and bashing Riki), or if Belift doesn't protect their artists and deal with their shit, I will burn the building down myself

Hello🌹,

I hope you are well

My name is Farah

I'm from Gaza 🇵🇸

Can you please help me to study at the university

Me and my family have lost our home, our car, and our dream to study 😞😞

I hope just to help me to start my education

I was in my first year at university in Gaza but after the war, I lost everything my dream and my education 💔

Hope you really can help with anything

Thank you in advance🌹

https://gofund.me/7417ca2b

https://gofund.me/0974b65e

Sharing to spread the message ^^

Guys, guys, GUYS!! a sneak peek of my upcoming smau !! Since I'm discontinuing the other one, I need to Jungwon justice lmao 😭

I just had to explain to someone on the Internet why white washing shouldn't be encouraged and said "it's a thing that's been there for centuries" like girl ik, doesn't mean it's good???

[JUNGWON] 🫦 @.pradabeauty

Even though I am discontinuing the Jungwon fiction, I WILL write a winx club smau for Jungwon since I do need to do him justice 😭

Guys, don't kill me, but I might discontinue opposites bc I want to make it into a little book like... so yh.😭

I've just read six of crows and crooked kingdom, and I don't know if I like Kaz or Inej more

Hello

I hope that you are well

Please help us,May God bless you 🙏

I'm Etaf from Gaza Palestine

The war has destroyed everything we own.

read and Share the link on my pageThe fixer ,

If you are able to donate, And share the link on social media that would be kind of you. May Allah make you happy all your life dear Thank you. 🙏

^^^

Burn Belift to the ground 😐

guys, i just saw that jungwon just confirmed a new album on a recent talk show. i am just here to say, fuck belift. enhypen has literally been overworked to the max to the point where their members are literally injured, yet still being forced to perform. please spread awareness of enhypen and how they are humans too and not just belift’s fucking entertainment dolls. tagging to spread awareness: @flwrstqr, @yuvany, @koppiielullaby, @sleepyseoo, @dioll @wonsprincess, @mioons

This right here. Is. Needed. Seeing Jake have an IV DRIP thing is terrifying, all of them barely being able to move?? Like??

haven’t seen lots of awareness brought to this in enhablr yet but i really wish all engenes could also post about & talk about the mistreatment they’re getting from belift. the way they haven’t had not even five days of rest the past two years is so concerning. the way the members’ healths are getting worse is so terrifying. they’re all so horrendously overworked and exhausted. we all saw jay’s injury and how they STILL made him perform despite the fact that his knee was injured. and now he’s on a hiatus that probably won’t even last that long considering how greedy their company is.

jake had to sit out from two different stages in their most recent concert and couldn’t even open his eyes when he was present for the other stages. heeseung can’t even properly perform with how overworked and exhausted he is. riki even spoke out about fainting in his weverse (whether it was a mistranslation or joke or not) this is all so terrifying. it’s so concerning because every engene knows how much enha love music & how much they love performing and having concerts for their fans.

their schedules for the past two years have literally been inhumane. comeback after comeback. tour after tour. event after event. concert after concert. belift is treating the members like they’re literal robots and the only people that can actually stop this is engenes themselves the longer you demand for a rest for the boys for no more comebacks and even boycott the higher of a chance enha will have a BREAK.

so please as an engene SPEAK OUT. repost reblog on here on every platform retweet on X share posts on tumblr use hashtags do whatever you can in your power for enha because it’s so clear they don’t have anyone else but us engenes when their own company is treating them like this.

mind you. they’re planning on making enhypen have another comeback at the final quarter of this year. AGAIN.

LET ENHYPEN REST ‼️

tagging a few moots: @intromortal @heeslomll @ak4e7a @enha-stars @venomhee @sjyfave @alvojake @hollyoongs @yzzyhee @ja3yun @jaylaxies @hoondrop @fakeuwus

Is This Love?

yang jungwon x reader [afab]

genre: fluff

concept: despite barely being of noble blood yourself there's nothing your family wants more for you than to find a man of high class and finally marry into a family of wealth and reputation. you aren't so taken with the idea, and instead find yourself gravitating to a man that your mother couldn't dislike more.

w/c: 4.7k

warning: regency era au, period typical racism and racist commentary (not graphic or violent, reader is heavily implied to not be of asian descent), period typical classist commentary, yearning, forbidden love

You’ve never really been one for parties, but it never fails that the sun of the summer tends to bring people out in droves to enjoy the sunshine and the warm weather. You’ve also never really cared for summer though, long evenings spent in your parlor, sitting in front of the fire with a hot pot of tea and a book have always been your preferred evenings but that’s quite a long way off. Right now, you’re being forced to languish away in hot skirts, fanning yourself in an effort to give yourself some kind of breeze and entertaining young suitors that you truly have no interest in. 

It’s all your mother’s doing. “You’re not getting any younger,” she reminds you day in and day out about your biological clock and how you’re running out of time. It doesn’t matter to you, the idea of bearing the children of these pompous, exhausting men is a nightmare in and of itself. If you never bear a child and spend the rest of your life being called ‘baren’ ‘cold’ and a ‘spinster,’ well, so be it.

“Oh, goodness,” your best friend whispers to you behind her own fan. The garden party today is crowded, so you’ve decided to seek refuge beside your best friend, despite the fact that she’s being trailed by her incredibly well meaning fiance. They’ll be getting married when the weather turns, it’s going to be a huge party, you’ve been helping her plan it since he proposed last autumn. Still, she’s your only lifeline that’s not either condescendingly commenting about how unfortunate it is you’ve not found a man yet or pushing said men directly onto you. 

“Something the matter?” You ask her, sipping delicately from your crystal glass. The water is tepid but it’s better than whatever booze concoction is in the communal drinking bowl. 

“Nothing,” she chirps but you simply lift a brow. “Did you happen to see who just arrived?” You shake your head but then slowly turn your head towards the entrance to the garden. “Late as always. No one taught the foreigner how to read a clock,” she comments. You glare in her direction for just a moment before turning back towards where the newest attendee of the garden party has entered. 

He’s a young man, about your age, with wide eyes, dark hair and he’s dressed impeccably in his charcoal grey suit. His hair is combed neatly away from his face and he’s greeting anyone who looks in his direction with a politeness they neither understand nor deserve. He’s always been this way, from the moment you met him last spring, transplanting from the far reaches of the East right into your back garden. If anyone had the slightest understanding of what they were looking at they would treat him better, at the very least because of the regality he seems to display and the handsomeness of his features. 

“An hour late,” your friend drones, rolling her eyes. 

“No later than you’ve ever been to a garden party. Might I remind you what kept you during all those balls during our school years?” You tease her. She harrumphs, turning to her fiance. 

“Darling, would you get me something to drink? This weather has me just parched,” she tells him. He goes without any other prodding and you smirk behind your fan. Once he’s outside of earshot she turns to you harshly. “Shut your mouth. What do you know about the things I did in our school years?” 

“You forget who covered for you so quickly?” You retort. She huffs, waving her fan around faster, as though it will be enough to cool the heat of her blush as it makes its way around her ears and up her neck. “Face it, you only say such things because you don’t care for him,” you insist. 

“As if I’m alone in that opinion,” she retorts haughtily. You don’t remember her being this petty when you were young, but you can’t very well be too surprised. She is marrying a Lord’s son and that’s sure to bring her a fair amount of social status. It makes her head the size of the moon some days, when she’s feeling especially like she suddenly deserves the world just because of who she’s going to be marrying. 

You’re just a Viscount’s daughter, which means you are owed quite a bit less status that she will inherit. Not that status has ever really mattered all that much to you. Your mother insists upon it, marrying up in the world. She did, after all, a lucky commoner’s child that happened to catch your father’s eye. Perhaps, to her, it is everything, but not you. 

You’d sooner marry for love than find yourself in a loveless, arranged marriage for the sake of your family name and nothing else. 

“Ladies.” While your friend has been harrumphing and grumping about his arrival, he’s clearly been making his rounds, finally finding himself at your side. You turn to him with a gentle smile, though your friend's politeness is clearly forced. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says, his voice lilting with a slight accent. 

“Well⁠—” 

“Of course not,” you’re quick to insist. You hear your friend huff at your side but you’re looking at the man before you, who smiles back at you. “Lovely to see you again, Lord Yang. How have you been?” 

“Quite well, thank you for asking. Kept busy,” he says, brushing a stray piece of hair out of his eyes. Your eyes follow the trail of his white gloved hands from his side to his hair and back down to his side. “And yourself, Miss?” He asks, which brings your attention back up to his face. Just the corner of his lips tilts upward in a sharp little smile, causing a dimple to appear in his cheek. 

“Well enough,” you reply and he lifts a brow. “Much to attend this season. I’ve been kept plenty busy with the various garden parties and balls that the noble are known to throw. I’m sure you’re much the same.” 

“Not nearly as well invited as you are, it seems,” he comments, grinning at you. “I suppose a lovely woman such as yourself must spend quite a bit of time with handsome suitors. Just as well, I heard you’re looking to be married.” 

“Not so soon,” you laugh off, shaking your head. “My friends are more the marrying types,” you say, looking over at your friend, who huffs but has a rather pleased smile hovering around her lips. 

“Ah, right. You’re betrothed to Lord Erikson, if I’m correct,” Jungwon says, turning to your friend. Her smile turns from forced to downright pleasured as she turns to face him fully, face half covered by her fan. She’s a taken woman, nothing pleases her more than being able to talk about it. 

“That is correct,” she lays on. 

The moment her awaiting marriage is mentioned, you’re left to do nothing else but stand by and listen to her regale Lord Jungwon Yang with all the glorious details of her upcoming marriage, the wedding, the manor she’ll be living in, everything bright and sparkling about being a bride-to-be. You’ve been listening to it for ages but Jungwon is a fresh set of ears to be forced to hear about it so you stand idly by, thankful to have Jungwon at your side because at least it’s a temporary shield against the many men who can’t seem to take a hint. 

Temporary is the problem, however. 

“Lady Y/L/N,” a gentleman says, coming to your side while Jungwon is being enthralled (unlikely) with the wedding plans of your school friend. You turn slowly towards him, forcing a smile to the surface despite how little you’d like to. “I understand you came to this event unattended. Might as well be a crime, a lovely woman such as yourself being left to fend for herself.” You blink at him slowly, lifting your fan towards your face. “If you’d like, I’d be more than willing⁠—” 

“I believe you got the wrong idea,” Jungwon says. You turn abruptly to him, your friend cutting herself off as soon as the words leave Jungwon’s mouth. He turns to the man at your side, tilting his head. “I don’t know quite know how as I’ve been standing here this whole time, but I assure you, Lady Y/L/N is quite well attended to for this event.” The suitor standing beside you blinks at him, stunned. “If you’d like to dance with her, you might think to ask the man attending to her, don’t you suppose?” 

“I wasn’t aware⁠—” 

“I didn’t think so,” Jungwon says. “You made that quite clear.”

The suitor clears his throat awkwardly, bending slightly at the waist in a bow to Jungwon and then straightens back up to ask, “if I may ask her hand for a dance? It would please me greatly.” He’s turned slightly to you, however, an obvious disregard for Jungwon’s opinion. You hide a smirk behind your fan, eyes downcast. 

“I’m afraid I was about to ask her to dance,” Jungwon informs him. The man turns back to Jungwon, startled by his boldness. “Thank you for your interest though.” The suitor turns to you, as though you’re going to rebuke Jungwon’s claim but you simply turn towards Jungwon. 

“You were?” You ask, tilting your head at him, lowering your fan a bit so he can see more of your face. 

“I was. It would’ve been terribly rude to interrupt your friend while she was speaking though.” He turns back to your friend, who is wearing a truly flabbergasted expression, having witnessed the entire exchange between the three of you. “I apologize for my rudeness, miss.” He bows slightly to her in apology. “You won’t mind if I take her hand in a dance though, would you?” He asks. 

“No,” she says, clearly too startled to deny him. 

“Wonderful.” Jungwon offers his hand to you. “Shall we?” 

You slide your gloved hand into his, feeling the heat of his hand in your own. Silently, you wish neither of you were wearing gloves so you could feel the full warmth of his palm against yours. This will have to do for now though as he leads you out onto the dance floor, your fan folded and hanging from your opposite wrist. 

It’s only once you’re on the dance floor, the bricked path beneath your feet, that Jungwon speaks again. 

“I apologize,” he whispers to you. You look at him to see him already looking at you. His gaze is gentle, staring at you with a kindness you’ve yet to see from the many suitors that have tried to take your hand before him. “I’m not usually so forward but, you see, I’ve waited all season to ask you to dance.” You blink at him, taken aback by his confession. “I’m not often invited to events like these so I had to seize my chance when it presented itself. I hope you weren’t too startled or offended.” 

“On the contrary, I was very impressed,” you inform him. A smile creeps its way across his lips again. “Not many men have the boldness that you do. Most men wouldn’t do such a thing for my attention. I am, after all, not that desirable.” 

“I don’t think you understand what that word means if you think that,” Jungwon retorts. “I’m afraid I’ve been working very hard to make my way through the crowds of men seeking your attention all season long.” You giggle, bringing your hand down from his shoulder to cover your mouth. “I know I’m not quite the man your family would prefer⁠—” 

“You’re a good man, Jungwon,” you interrupt him. His eyes widen in surprise at your bold statement. You feel warm with embarrassment at stating something so abruptly and interrupting him in the process. You cover your mouth with your hand again. “Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have⁠—” 

“Thank you,” he tells you. Your embarrassment dies down at his words and you look at him from under your lashes. “Not many people would say that to me.” 

“You shouldn’t listen to what other people think,” you tell him, resting your hand on his shoulder again. The hand on your waist tightens just a bit, pulling you the tiniest bit closer to him. It’s not unseemly, not yet, but your bust brushes the front of his suit jacket. The heat of him is close, his face just inches from your own. You truly think you could get lost in the depths of his dark brown eyes, even deeper and darker than the tea your mother makes in the winter months, yet twice as warm. 

“I’ll take that into consideration.” 

Though you hadn’t thought about it before, the longer you remain in Jungwon’s company the more you grow to like him. He’s sweet to you, kind and speaks with a gentle tongue. While others might find his lilting foreign accent distracting or uncouth, you don’t. It’s sort of handsome to you and when you’re done dancing, you spend the rest of the party in his presence. No one else approaches the two of you, after Jungwon’s abrupt and firm rebuke of the first suitor’s interruption, your hand wrapped around his bicep. You find his attention sort of all consuming, in the best way, the adoration in his eyes and the soft way in which he regards you. It’s enough that you sometimes find yourself hiding behind your fan to keep your composure. To say you’re taken with him would be an understatement for certain, assuring him on his parting that you want to see him at the next event you both will be attending. 

“I look forward to it,” he tells you, taking your hand in his. He bends at the waist, bringing your hand to his lips to gently kiss the back of it. Oh how you wish you weren’t wearing gloves, the mere thought of the soft touch of his lips to the back of your hand is enough to leave your heart racing. 

Others, however, don’t feel the same. 

“Do you think this is a joke? This isn’t just your life we’re talking about here!” Your mother explodes as you’re being fitted for a new gown. The poor seamstress that’s fitting your skirts around your waist is being forced to bear witness to the verbal lashing you’re receiving from your mother. You’re quite used to it though, keeping your composure as she speaks. “Do you have any idea what kind of scar you would put on your father’s name if you were to entertain such a man? I won’t have it!” 

“You don’t even know him,” you say, voice measured. 

“I don’t have to! You’ll not be wasting your time with some low life trader’s son!” She insists. 

“He’s a doctor,” you inform her, turning your head to look at her. She scoffs, arms crossed over her chest. “He’s gone to school and everything. Has his own practice. He’s a good man, with a good standing. Just because his father is a trader doesn’t mean he’s the same. He’s made something of himself!” 

“Made something!? He’s an Oriental, he’ll never make something of himself, Y/N, don’t be naive. He’s no more a doctor than that Chinese medical man who sells herbs on the street. You’re not to be mingling with the likes of him,” your mother warns you. “Do you have any idea the kinds of things people would say about you if you were to court him?” She asks, walking around to stand in front of you. You huff to yourself, not meeting her eye. “The kinds of things they would say about me, or your father, if you married someone like that?! I won’t have it. You have a reputation to uphold.” 

“You think he couldn’t carry father’s name?” You retort. 

“I’d hope the good Lord would strike me where I stand before I let something like that happen,” your mothers tells you. “Now you listen to me, you are not to be seen with him anymore. He is not going to court you and he is not going to attend you to any further events, do you understand?” You bring your gaze down to meet hers. “I don’t want you to even go near him. Don’t let him get any ideas. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” you sigh. 

You knew this might happen. Your family has some very old fashioned ideas, your parents especially, and the idea that you might let someone like Jungwon attend to you, of course your mother couldn’t stand it. As stated, your reputation is everything to her, especially yours. She expects you to marry up, not down. Of course a simple man with a good job isn’t enough for her, he needs to be noble, of high class. Jungwon will never measure up to her. 

The next party you attend, you keep to yourself, eyes down, fan in front of your face. The heat is unbearable, so surely no one can blame you for the way you keep your fan close and up, keeping yourself covered. You don’t even dance, sitting away from the festivities, allowing the chatter of late season weddings, births and birthday parties wash over you. 

You glance up when a murmur runs through the crowd, an hour past the beginning of the party, just in time to see Jungwon enter the gardens. He’s dressed just as impeccably as before, though his suit is brown rather than grey. Still, you doubt he could ever look poorly, his handsomeness speaks for itself. You sigh to yourself, standing and walking away from the table. 

Perhaps it’s all a bit juvenile but the idea of being away from him is easier than trying to ignore him. After all, you can’t stop your feelings any more than you can stop your heart from beating. It’s all so sudden and yet, with one longing gaze, it’s all you can do to not ask Jungwon to ask for your hand right then and there. He’s a gentleman so he won’t, he’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means flowers and dancing and courting and admiration from afar until it’s socially acceptable to ask you to marry him. But you wish he wouldn’t, you wish he would just cut the chase. 

You’ve never cared for men who waste time. 

Hedge gardens are all a bit trite to you, but they’re fine places to think. Especially since no one will come looking for you, you can even go alone. So you do, finding yourself wandering through the thick maze of tall hedges, bright green and reaching above you, almost like trees. You fan yourself, glancing up at the unbearable sun, hoping for the day the air becomes crisp with the autumn wind and you can wrap yourself in shawls instead of sweating under your many skirts. You wonder if there’s a place where it’s like autumn all the time, if you could hope to live someplace like that. Someplace away from this, all of this meaningless nonsense regarding class and reputation. 

“I thought I might find you here,” someone says and you turn, finding Jungwon walking up behind you. He’s still a few paces away, a respectful distance between the two of you, especially since you’re alone here. “When I saw you leave, I worried I’d done something. But we’ve not even spoken since our last outing.” He stops a few feet from you and you lower your fan with a sigh. “Maybe that’s the problem. Should I have chased after you, sending you love letters and words of admiration so that you might miss me more?” He’s teasing you, you know it, but it makes you frown anyway. “What have I done?” He asks, moving to close the distance. 

When he steps forward, you step back, causing him to stop in his tracks. 

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you,” you say and his expression drops into one of confusion and worry. “I think it would be best if you attended to someone else this summer.” 

“I don’t want to attend to anyone else this summer,” Jungwon informs you. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to,” he adds, walking towards you again. You stumble backwards, only to bump directly into a hedge, causing you to stop. You glance at it, betrayed by your own clumsiness, and then look back at him. He closes the distance until he’s only a foot or so in front of you. “Have you changed your mind?” 

“I…” He tilts his head at you, “have. Yes.” 

“I see,” he sighs. “Well, I apologize for wasting your time.” Your frown at him, hurt. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.” He takes your hand gently in his, bending at the waist and kissing the back of your hand again. Your heart flutters like it did before, Jungwon lifting his gaze to look at you from under his lashes. “Have a lovely summer, Lady Y/L/N.” 

You sigh softly as he lets go of your hand. He leaves you, walking back out of the hedge maze and, presumably, back to the party. You huff to yourself, turning your fan over between your hands, despondent. 

Your mother, as expected, is nothing less than thrilled when you tell her about the exchange. 

“Well, I should hope so,” she says, enjoying her tea in the garden, fanning herself. “That young man is finally learning his place.” 

“I suppose he is,” you mutter to yourself, staring down at your hands. 

That evening the night falls, dark but illuminated by a silver, full moon. You dress down into your nightgown, the late summer turning into autumn as soon as the sun goes down. You find yourself wrapped in a long housecoat, shuffling to the window in your slippers. You open the window, leaning out to let the crisp night air caress your skin. Though the courting season might be ending, perhaps you will finally find solace once more in the quiet days and cold nights. It’s the least you can hope for. 

You’re startled by the sound of rustling. You look out towards your garden wall, nervous of what might be happening. The leaves on the ivy that drapes down the sides of the wall shiver and rustle in the night air but it sounds heavier and heavier the longer it goes on. You lean out over your window sill, watching out for what might be causing such a ruckus at such a late hour. 

He appears over the top of the garden wall, heaving himself up and over the top. Your mouth drops open with a gasp when the moonlight illuminates his features, making his wide eyes seem even darker, his smirk coming into focus. Jungwon sits on the edge of the garden wall, suit jacket and waistcoat gone, tie missing and first few buttons undone like some kind of rascal from your romance novels. He looks up at you, hands on the top of the wall. 

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel,” he calls out, making you laugh and shake your head at him. 

“You shouldn’t be here!” You insist, trying to keep your voice down but still trying to make sure he can hear you. 

“I shan’t go until you speak with me. A young man’s heart is nothing to toy with, princess,” Jungwon tells you. You lean against the window frame, smiling sadly. “Come to my side, tell me your woes. I’ll do whatever I can to ease them.” 

“I assure you, you cannot,” you sigh. His expression softens as he looks up at you. “It is not your heart that is being toyed with, prince charming. I assure you.” 

“A princess’ heart is not one for games, of this I’m sure,” he replies. “Come down from your ivory tower so that I may offer you solace.” 

It’s a tempting offer. You glance back at your bedroom door, knowing well your parents must be asleep by now. Only your bedside lamp burns in the entire house. You turn back to him, Jungwon looking up at you with hopeful eyes. After this afternoon, his bright eyes make you ache for his side once more. You can’t help but notice he’s without his gloves, dressed down in what is surely an unseemly way, you are as well. Yet you long for the touch of his bare skin against yours, even if it’s just his palm clasped in your hand. 

“Will it be in your arms?” You ask.

“I desire nothing less,” Jungwon says, voice aching with conviction. You smile, reaching out to close your window. 

You snuff out your lamp as quickly as you can, then gently open your bedroom door. You must creep, as silently as you can, from your bedroom to the first floor, then make your way through the estate to the doors to the back garden. When you get there, you carefully ease that door open as well, closing it with a soft hand. You rush out into the middle of the garden, still dressed only in your housecoat and nightgown, looking for him.

“Was it my arms you wish to find solace in?” A voice speaks from the darkness and you turn towards it. Jungwon walks towards you, hands in his pockets. You rush towards him, his hands leaving his pockets so he can catch you when you run into his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. Jungwon bundles you into his arms, holding you against him.

It’s the first time he’s ever held you, but you sink into the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around your body, the weight of him against you, the warmth of him seeping into you. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, hugging him to you. If this is the only time you’ll be able to do this, you’ll not forget it for the rest of your life. 

“So you haven’t changed your mind,” he whispers into your hair. You pull back to meet his gaze. “You never did. Did you?” 

“No,” you whisper. “My mother⁠—” 

“She doesn’t approve,” Jungwon says. You nod slowly. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. A woman such as yourself isn’t meant to marry beneath her, after all.” You frown at him. “I’m not worth much to them. I’m just a trader’s son⁠—” 

“Your status doesn’t mean anything to me. Marrying someone for status is useless. What about love?” You reply and his expression turns soft. “What about marrying someone because you love them? Because they make you feel happy and full and good in their presence? What about that?”

“Women like you aren’t supposed to yearn for love,” Jungwon says, lifting a hand to your cheek. “Love won’t bring you things you most desire.” 

“If love is not what I most desire when you do not understand what that word means,” you reply. He smiles at you, stroking his thumb over your cheek. 

“Run away with me?” He asks. 

“So suddenly?” You reply, staring up at him. “What if you grow bored of me?” 

“Do you think I’m the type to grow bored of people easily?” Jungwon asks. “I assure you I’m not.” 

“Of people? No. Of lovers? Perhaps,” you reply. His eyes widen, a smirk making its way across his lips. “You don’t see me as a temporary lover, do you?” 

His lips press to yours suddenly. It’s like he’s taken the breath from your lungs, your body paralyzed in his hold. His fingers hold you gently in place with a tenderness you’ve never experienced, your arms wrapping around his neck tighter once more. Jungwon’s hand guides you to tilt your head, his opposite arm wrapping tightly around your waist. 

You’re not courting, he’s not even attended you more than once, but you grip at his shirt, holding him tightly against your body, chasing the feeling of his mouth against yours. It’s an earth shattering kiss, one that makes it feel as though the entire world has melted away underneath your feet. Your knees are weak but he holds you up, keeping your body pressed against his own. He kisses you with a recklessness you have never known, a passion that makes you feel dizzy and lightheaded when he pulls away from you. 

“I’ve never had a lover before you,” he confesses, “and I don’t plan on ever having another after you.”

a/n: sometimes, it's about the ✨ romance ✨ it's about the longing, the yearning. that's what it's all about this time, baby. hope you enjoyed 💕

taglist: @ducksstolemybread @dr0wnme0ut @destinyhoon @emisloves @alvojakereblogs @lilyuwon @oddracha @skzenhalove @nyfwyeonjun @bunhoons @ministrawberrywithchocolate @heeshlove @nshmrarki @zeeloveshee @nyxtwixx @manifestobackshot @onlyuyu @in-somnias-world @hoonmine @shawnyle @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @llpovi @jiminie-08

‏Welcome 👋

‏I am Ahmed from Gaza. I am 19 years old. I ask you to help me complete my university studies and save me and my family from the genocidal war in Gaza. 🍉😭🇵🇸🙏

Please Share Or Replog Or Donate For My Family 🙏😭🍉❤️

‏You can donate through my link in my bio 👇

‏Here’s the link: https://gofund.me/c4472150

Of course, I will defo share

Why do men... or ppl...?

The RG Kar Incident: DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES TO RAPE

I’m unsure of how many non-Indians or even non-Bengalis know of this. Regardless of whether you do or do not, I would request you to reblog this post & share awareness about this. DON'T LET INJUSTICE GO UNPUNISHED.

On August 9, 2024, the body of 31-year-old post-graduate medical trainee, Dr. Moumita Debnath, was found partially naked in the seminar room of RG Kar, a hospital in Kolkata. She had just finished working a 36-hour night shift before this and, out of exhaustion, had fallen asleep while studying in the nearest seminar room on the fourth floor of the hospital.

Her family was informed beforehand that she had committed suicide, to which her mother emphasized on the fact that her daughter could never carry out such an act. On further investigation, it was found that Dr. Debnath had been raped and murdered in her sleep.

According to the Deccan Herald,

“There was bleeding from both her eyes and mouth, injuries over the face and nail. The victim was also bleeding from her private parts. She also has injuries in her belly, left leg… neck, in her right hand, ring finger and… lips. [...] “Her neck bone was also found broken. It seems that she was first strangulated and then smothered to death.”

According to Medical Dialogues,

“There were multiple hairs on the mattress and blood was soaked on the blue mattress [...]”

Later, it was found that Dr. Debnath’s glasses were shattered and her eyes were pierced with the shards of her glasses themselves.

Although one of the criminals (Sanjoy Roy) has been arrested, I am certain that there are others involved. In fact, it has been found that Sanjoy Roy, despite being an outsider, was granted access to PG Kar via personal relations with senior police officers.

The chief minister of West Bengal (despite being a woman herself) as well as members other political parties are trying, behind the scenes, to let this case fade away. Why? Oh right, it's really the privileged, upper class & upper caste sons and brothers of ministers who are behind this! No major crime can happen in a country without there being the hand of one or more influential persons, often politically involved.

Sisters and brothers, দিদিরা ও দাদারা, it would be a sin to remain silent in the face of such a crime. Our brave brothers & sisters pursuing medical practise have ceased working in their hospitals to protest against this grave crime against women, against humanity. We cannot let this injustice go unpunished! A crime against a single woman is a crime against all of us! We were born from a woman, raised by a woman—and now, when we see the honour, dignity and life of women at stake, won’t we join the andolan? Won’t we fight for what is right?

Requesting all Kolkata residents (who can) to join in at least any one of the protests mentioned below. There are provisions for elderly & disabled people. Men are invited to join us as well.

For those who want to join the Reclaim the Night protest at 11:55 p.m., please refer to this list of contact numbers (according to your region) provided by Miru Didi ( @arachneofthoughts )

Take hold of the night! We have always been told to stay wary of nighttime and the dangers, manifested in the form of cruel men, we may face. Not anymore—we must reclaim the night! How much fear is fear enough? If anyone wants to know further details and the phone numbers regarding this first event, please DM me.

Blowing the conch has always been a signal of strength. In traditional Bengali culture, it is almost always the women who blow the conch, be it in Durga Puja or the everyday pujas carried out at home. It was, and always will remain a sign of victory over evil. At 11:55 p.m., all those who cannot join the midnight assembly (the aforementioned event) can, instead, blow the conch from their own houses! Let them know you're not afraid. Let them know you've had enough. Let them know that once a revolution starts, especially one spearheaded by women, takes a long, long time to end.

[Please Note: These protests are not personally organised by me. I simply am in touch and will be attending the protest tonight.]

If you can, please do take the time to sign this petition below (courtesy of Miru Didi @arachneofthoughts) to aid our efforts:

Change.org

Sign the Petition

People assaulting Doctors should be punished like Terrorists

If nothing, please do take the time to share and reblog this post wherever you can! DON'T LET RAPE GO UNPUNISHED!

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ ❛❛ ᶜʰᵃᵖᵗᵉʳ ⁶: 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎 ❞ || YJW

☰ ❛❛ 𝖮𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗌❞ Y.JW.

𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴: 𐙚 ⋆ ｡ ˚:

Yn believed in logic. Jungwon believed in understanding his emotions. Their friends knew they would get into petty arguments. All in all, they desire a successful university life, away from their past and families. However, when murders appear in the premises of their own school, and the past comes back to meet them, they find a link and team up with their logic and emotions to find out the culprit and resume their normal lives. But, no one guaranteed their safety and their feelings for each other.

ᯓᡣ𐭩𝖸𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 × 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ౨ৎ. ｡˚

☰ TAGS: college au, enhypen smau, jungwon+reader, thriller, yandere themes, crime, slow-burn, angst

╰┈➤𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 (comment or give an ask)

𐙚 ◦ Full warnings on m.list page

╰┈➤ [ REBLOGS and COMMENTS are appreciated]

Wc: 2.09k

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A STUDY CAFÉ AFTER TWO HOURS OF CLASS WAS A BREATHER. A way for everyone to cool the foggy effect of lecture notes and the languid speech of the professor. You could have almost fallen asleep atop your laptop hadn't it been for Jungwon clearing his throat.

Jay stated that he needed to tell everyone something, so no one could resist the urge to gather together in the neat and cream-coloured, study room. The large, white table was soon littered with laptops and the recent book everyone was reading; eventually, everyone sat down.

Jay leaned forward on his elbows once he caught everyone's attention. "I was talking to Jake this morning, and guess what?"

No one spoke a word upon seeing the slight dapple of despaire on Jay's face so, he continued.

"The case where we found that dead man, may be closed, like, forever."

The heavy silence was suffocating, so many unspoken words mixing in the air as everyone stilled. Jay could have thought he was staring at a paused video until Yunjin scoffed, brows buried deep downwards, reflecting yours and Jungwon's reaction.

"You must be kidding," she said quietly as she crossed her arms and quelled the silence. The unpleasant news forced your eyes to wander anywhere but Jay, rocks of anxiety anchoring your mind down. Jungwon remained silent.

"Yeah, I'm not kidding," Jay declared once more to everyone's dismay, gazing back at his lit laptop.

Jay continued to explain that in the whirlwind of the murder case, the route to who the culprit is was hidden by too many obstacles that the police didn't know how to tackle: no footprints, no cameras and no witnesses. It was a dead end.

Scaring yourself was not an option, so you tried desperately to subdue that train of thought and grasp at anything logical despite your own intuition.

"Well, if they closed down the case, I guess, they tried to take everyone's interest at heart." You fiddled with your pen, flicking it vigorously to-and-fro as silence pervaded the study room once more.

"It's just strange. They couldn't find... anything?" Jungwon urged Jay, confusion entangled in his tone. Uncertain, his friend let out a shaky sigh.

"It's probably nothing, as Yn said. Maybe it is genuinely not a threat to us or the university," Jay insisted, trying to put confidence in your weak excuse. Not much was said as Yunjin shrugged, languid.

"I guess so. Whatever. I'm done with that shit. Let's just work," Yunjin announced with a new determination, swerving away from the morose topic and onto becoming academic weapons for the rest of the semester.

Everyone agreed and dived into their work. Ten minutes passed and Jungwon decided to call his good classmate for the upcoming film project. Through the screen, he saw Taehyun's boba eyes and the profuse blinks to make sure the actual facetime was working.

Jungwon wasn't looking but he swiped a hand through his hair and allowed Taehyun to catch a glimpse of Jungwon's meticulously clean nails. Taehyun snickered, causing Jungwon to incredulously raise an eyebrow to the other.

"What are you laughing at?" Jungwon asked, bewildered. Taehyun waved a dismssive hand, clearly trying to conceal his humour. Upon seeing Jungwon's unyielding expression, he finally gave in.

"No - I just saw your nails and they look pretty. Are you going to do them again," Taehyun chimed with mischief, making you, Yunjin and Jay chuckle a little under your breaths. Only Jungwon forlornly crossed his arms and directed his glare at the latter on the screen.

"Seriously?"

Within a second, Taehyun's smile dropped and nodded with a deadpan expression. "Yes."

Whilst you and the others were laughing at the comical situation, Jungwon found it far from that; irritated, his frown remained as he pulled up the page for the assignment.

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Days passed and you were walking along with Minji, Chaewon and Heeseung. Psychology class evoked a session of inevitable ranting that everyone thoroughly required. It was a routine to go through.

The front area of the school was where you and the others were headed, the breeze brushing through your locks; it was a refreshing way to liberate the clouding information from the unpleasant lectures.

More booths and kiosks littered the place, colours displayed from the banners hung meticulously on the stands. Each one delivering the name of the club and the unavoidable prices to capitvate the future customers.

You walked longside Chaewon until you reached the wooden table that was occupied by Yunjin, Jay and Jungwon. Apart from your friends, there were definitely more people out there - more near the platform resembling the stage. Your gaze was not stuck there for long to see who was on it, but you were drawn back to Yunjin and Chaewon squealing in delight.

You stood beside Minji and observed them fussing, a small speck of apprehension seeping into their faces from the way Yunjin ran a hand through her hair.

"I cannot believe we get to dance at the festival, Chae."

"You're dancing as well and I didn't know?" you exclaimed to the blonde girl, your jaw dropped. Chaewon nodded with a modest smile.

"Yeah, Yunjin and I dance with some other girls," She said and was accompanied with an enthusiastic nod from Yunjin. Crossing your arms, you sent a cheeky smile to Chaewon.

"I didn't know you dance."

Chaewon shrugged, almost innocently with her eyes morphing into cheerful crescents when she grinned - as if she didn't know what you were even talking about. "I thought I said so."

On the other hand, Jay placed his phone down with a knowing smile when he glanced ateveryone. Heeseung, sitting opposite him, grimaced at the expression Jay had.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Heeseung asked, disgruntled. A glare was all that Jay delivered to the latter.

"Well, I am also expressing my excitement since I'm also dancing - but with a dude called 'K'," Jay explained with excitement tainting his voice. The name threw everyone, but Chaewon and Yunjin, off.

"K?" you uttered, not even burying the incredulity that crept up your tone. Even Heeseung tilted his head, but Jay dsmissively waved his hand.

"I wasn't the one that named him - anyway, it's short and snappy."

"Yeah - in text," Heeseung remarked with a snort, resulting a terse slap in the back of the head by Minji. A yelp slipped past his lips as he pacified the slight pang in his skull.

"Ow, what the fvck?"

When the conversation reached its end and everyone was about to art their ways, a static screech washed over the entirety of the courtyard. Everyone curtly halted, heads turning, and a wince escaped your lips.

The source was at the stage, the speakers blaring a man's voice; the male figure had black-rimmed glasses, jet-black hair brushed in a tiny man bun and brown eyes that held this hollow calmness in them. When you scanned over his features more, you discovered he was middle-aged and he was flanked by some other people behind him. There was this unnerving, small smile he had that disrupted the serene waves of thoughts within you.

The man patted the mic softly and soft bass sounds followed after it, catching the attention of everyone there. You couldn't look away now that the uncertainty simmered in your stomach.

Who the fvck was this?

As if the man heard your inner monologue, his voice dispersed from the speakers.

"Hello. You are probably wondering who I am. I want to introduce myself as Moon Minseok, the sponsor of the school."

Those eyes that were roaming from booth to booth landed on you and the others. No words were exchanged but everyone acknowledged the dubious shiver prowling down everyone's spine.

It forced you to swiftly divert your gaze into something that was not worthy of attention - much like everyone else. You tried to drown out the remnants of the speech.

You don't even know when the speech ended, but you and Jungwon departed ways together to get to the gardening booth. Danielle was already there and directed you to simply tag the prices to each gardening product before she also sauntered away.

It was easy enough.

So, you and Jungwon found yourselves sitting in the comfortable silence, the subtle breeze caressing yours and his clothes whilst the sunlight feebly seeped through the thick blankets of clouds.

The little cactuses and ferns were adorably small, the plastic wrapped around it in a way that didn't bend their leaves or figures. You couldn't help but smile at the miniature, clay pots.

It was almost calming in a way until a multitude of nefarious footsteps approched the gardening booth, making you and Jungwon curiously glance up.

There was clear tension in your muscles when those empty eyes, of none other than Minseok, landed on you and Jungwon. Behind him, the same people flanked him, tablets in their hands, and the principal also accompanying him. The headmaster looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It appeared amusing to you, but you didn't react and, instead, gave a short glance to Jungwon, who also gave a sceptical look back.

With the oncoming footsteps, you and Jungwon politely bowed despite the clear tension pervading the air. It was almost difficult to even make eye contact.

Minseok had a confident gait, each step on the grounds of campus made his; this mellow smile curved onto his lips whilst he had his hands behind his back. His eyes possessed that icy calmness that made your voice dig back into your throat.

"The gardening club," the principal spoke, gesturing to you and Jungwon awkwardly standing there behind the table full of tagged garden products.

You didn't want to speak, neither did Jungwon. Both you and him had your thoughts drifitng into space. Realising you were just tentatively staring, you captured the wandering thoughts and brought yourself back to reality.

"Um... hello," you uttered, voice coming out much quieter than you wanted. Jungwon was about to give you a relentless side-eye but Minseok stepped forward and ran his gaze over the various assortments of petite plants commonly grown within the university.

The silence seemed to disturb the principal a lot more, the nervousness dissolving into his face; he shifted in his place, hands rubbing over the knuckles of his other. Maybe he was sweating if you observed closely enough to the crown of his head.

Minseok met your eyes in a second and you swear your heartbeat spiked up, clutching your vocal chords and forcing you to just awkwardly smile. You had the fierce urge to run away.

"My mother would love these. These are lovely," he began to say. There was a insincere smile in your smile, but he didn't need to know that. Shrewd, Jungwon fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie, nails digging into the plush fabric.

"She has good taste in plants," you stated whilst your own gaze ran over the green stems and the soil. Minseok gave a small, humoured laugh.

"She had good taste," he corrected you and immediately sending heat to flood your cheeks and neck. You could tell the principal was probably itching to take Minseok away from your clumsy obliviousness.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled, bowing in slight apology. You just wanted the eart to swallow you up. Minseok shook his head as if it was nothing serious, and smiled with that tranquil expression again.

"It's fine, she can't hear us, " he responded with mirth to your humiliated state. Jungwon could have scoffed to your mistake, but his muscles were too frozen with tension to even move. And, he didn't know why.

After Minseo recieved silence from you, he picked up one of the plastic-wrapped plants. "She was a lovely woman. She tended to her garden, decorating the house with ridiculous kinds. It's endearing now since she is now buried with them."

It was a depressing conversation so much so that you were holding a breath as Jungwon gave a subtle side-eye.

"I learned from that moment that people must treasure what they have. You may lose the," Minseok added on, gaze flickering to Jungwon. Following his gaze briefly, you noticed the way Jungwon's eyes darted nervously, jaw slightly clenched.

You didn't have the time to ask if he was okay since Minseok dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out some notes to hand it to you. It was a little daunting, and you didn't know whether to take it since he was offering money that was worth more than what was displayed on the small plant.

From the corner of your eye, the principal gesticulated that you should take it. Not wanting to embarrass yourself anymore, you gave a small smile before taking the money.

"Keep the change," he said, holding the plant.

"Thank you," you murmured, to which Minseok curled his smile a little more, eyes scanning over your features as if he was trying to grasp something off it.

The brief silence was cut off when one of his advisors sauntered to Minseok, a ringing phone in hand. Minseok's gaze faltered before he gave a courteous nod to you, a brief glance to Jungwon and taking the advisor's phone. Then, like the wind, he walked away with the principal.

When they were far enough, you looked to the 10,000 won worth of notes. It was a simple interaction but enough to leave you still drifting in your thoughts. Curious, you glanced to Jungwon, who was still frozen.

You wondered if he was even breathing.

"Jungwon?" you nudged his elbow a little, causing him to flinch and look down at you. The brief discomfort stayed rooted in his eyes, jaw still clenched.

This time, you wrapped your fingers gently around his forearm to nudge him again with bewilderment. "You okay?"

Jungon snapped out of the foggy daze and nodded. A deep breath escaped him, shoulders sagging finally and discomfort melting away when he registered the soft grip of your hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. He just seems a little... odd, don't you think?"

The return of his voice did addle you a little, but you didn't dare mention it, not wanting to ignite whatever worry was just extinguished. Your hand stopped holding his forearm.

"Yeah," you agreed, seeing Minseok and the principal in the far distance, "I think so too."

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<< m.list >>

╰┈➤ A/n: omg, heeyy. My life has been so hectic that I wanted to just- 💀👍🏼. Anyways, still in a hectic moment, but I managed to update chapter 6. Didn't feel amazing while writing it but I tried. And I'm so sorry if the picture quality basically decreased. Idk why. But, pls tell me how it was <3

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Taglist: @jwonistic @ilovejungwonandhaechan @sincerely-sun

sacred monsters: part two

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part two word count: 12.4k

part two warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, me forcing you to read extensive vampire lore, the supernatural elements are ramped up a notch (or, like, eight notches), semi-graphic descriptions and depictions of violence

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

note/disclaimer: and to absolutely no one’s surprise, I cannot stop talking about vampire heeseung, so this story will be more than two parts. this is not the end. I want to say it will be around 4-5. potentially more. (yay if you’re excited, and my apologies if you’re not.) again, I want to name the sources I used to help me create this: the dark moon webtoon is where lots of the lore comes from, and influences from twilight are also scattered throughout. okay I think that’s it. for now at least… as always, happy reading ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Everything hurts. 

As your consciousness slowly begins to trickle back in, pain is the most prominent sensation. It comes in slow, steady waves. With a certain kind of deep ache. 

Eyes still screwed shut, your brow furrows. The movement only inspires anothing intense wave of throbbing pain that thuds against your temples. 

As senses begin to emerge, you can tell that you’re horizontal. Lying down. The surface beneath you is soft. It dips and curves, gives to the shape of your body. A bed, maybe. 

Delicately, you try moving your right arm. Wiggling your toes. Both are responsive, but there’s a profound soreness sitting deep within your muscle that makes you strain against a whimper from even the tiniest of movements. 

And your throat. It’s so dry. Scraped raw as if someone has taken sandpaper to it. As if you’ve been screaming. 

You inhale deeply, assessing the way air inflates the lungs beneath your ribs. Even there, deep within you, there’s a dull, muted ache. A pain that lingers. As the ensuing exhale leaves your body, you note another sensation. 

The emptiness of your stomach. The deep pangs of hunger that roll like nausea. 

With no small amount of reluctance, you begin the arduous task of opening your eyes. One slow blink that bleeds into another. 

At first, the only thing you see is a vast expanse of white. Blinding light makes you want to squint. Close your eyes again. But it’s nothing but a trick of your own senses. Causes by eyes that have gone unused for an extended period of time. 

Slowly, the space above you begins to take on its true tone. A soft, even light gray that coats the expanse of the ceiling. Turning your head to the side, you ignore the protest of pain from your neck. 

You let your eyes wander for a minute. But as the space around you begins to come into focus, you’re left with more questions than answers. 

Your earlier assertion had been correct. You are lying in a bed. But it’s not the one you’ve grown used to. This isn’t your apartment. 

No, the bedroom around you is an unfamiliar one. But that’s undoubtedly what it is: a bedroom. Threadbare maybe, but with small touches of life. Aside from your current resting place, there’s a desk on the opposite side of the room. A nightstand right next to you. A small lamp that emanate a warm, golden glow. 

Forcing your body into an upright position, you wince at the effort it takes just to sit upright, to maneuver every aching limb into place. 

More details of the room come into focus. A computer monitor and keyboard on the desk. The small stack of books next to it. A record player. A small dresser. Little trinkets of personality, but nothing that serves you now. 

Even through the haze in your sleep-addled mind, you’re sure you’ve never seen any of it before. Why are you here? Where is here?

And why does your body hurt so damn much, nerves under your skin singing like they’ve been wrung out to dry?

The fog in your mind refuses to clear. Soon, another emotion begins to emerge alongside the confusion as the reality of the situation sets in. 

You’re alone. In an unfamiliar room. Hungry as if it’s been days since you’ve eaten. 

Judging from the way your limbs respond to even the most minute of movements, you’re injured. Badly. 

Flexing your left leg again, you wince. Can you even walk right now? 

This is bad. This is very, very bad. 

The beginnings of panic begin to trace your mind. Again, you’re searching the room. This time, however, you focus on memorizing the layout. Finding anything that might be of any use to you, that might help you identify your location. That might help you craft an escape.

Your search turns up two doors, one to your left and one directly across from the foot of the bed. Both are unmarked. Both are pulled shut. 

It’s possible that your panic is premature. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that this was nothing more than the bedroom of a rather minimalistic university student. But if that were the case why did you wake up here alone, head pounding, body aching?

That alone is definitive. Something is very wrong. 

Instinctively, you try to retrace your steps. You must have gotten here somehow. But the more you try to walk back through your memory, the hazier things become. The inside of your mind is like a murky labyrinth, dead ends at every corner. Rearranging and shifting the more you try to focus. 

It’s as if a dense fog has clouded over your ability to think, to recall. No matter how close you get to a memory, you can’t see anything. 

That alone is enough to send another fresh wave of panic straight to your bones. Alone, injured, and you can’t remember any of the events that led you to this strange place. 

Gingerly, you turn your body so that your legs hang off the side of the bed, bare feet resting lightly on the floor. That movement alone requires several of your deep inhales. 

Slowly, you try putting weight on your feet, your legs. It’s not pleasant by any means, but they hold steady. Or at the very least, they don’t buckle beneath you. Aside from the soreness, there’s a distinct fatigue in your extremities. One that gives them a slight shake the longer you try to stand. 

You doubt you can run, but at least you’re not completely immobile. Maybe, given enough adrenaline, you can walk. Crawl. 

But now you’re faced with another dilemma. Two doors. Two points of entry, two potential routes to escape. Or two paths to further danger. Trapped in a windowless room, you have no way of knowing which of your two choices, if any, is better. 

But you can’t just stay here. Backed into a corner, practically a sitting duck. Eyes darting between the two doors, you steel yourself for the inevitable flash of pain fully standing will inevitably cause. 

The door to the left of the bed. The door at the foot of the bed. 

Just as you’ve decided to veer to the right, muscles tensing in anticipation, a knock rings out. Your breath catches in your throat, panic reaching its peak as your heart beats a furious rhythm in your chest. There’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go.One rap against the door to your left. Two. Three. 

You won’t make it to the other door in time. Not on your legs. 

There’s a moment of suspended silence. And then, the door is opening. 

Instinctively, you push yourself backwards on the bed., trying to put as much space as physically possible between you and the stranger that enters. 

And a stranger he certainly is. With a tentative sort of slowness, a boy peers around the edge of the door, squinting in the low light. 

When he sees that you’re upright, he pushes into the room fully, closing the door quietly behind him. The glimpse you get over his shoulder doesn’t reveal much. Another room, maybe, but it’s gone too quickly to be certain. 

“You’re awake,” he nods, more to himself than anything. “I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

Back pressed against the wall, you have nowhere left to go. Still hunched as if that will do anything to protect you, you stare at the boy in front of you. 

Maybe, you think. Maybe you could move fast enough to grab the lamp from the nightstand before he realizes what’s happening. Could use it as some sort of weapon, some meager means of self-defense. 

“Who are you?” Your throat is scraped raw. It hurts to speak, to think, to do much of anything. “Where am I?”

“Oh.” The boy pauses for a moment. For the first time since he entered, he stops to look at you. Really look at you. The extent of the terror that’s embedded in your features, written in the positioning of your body. 

Immediately, he stops in his tracks. Retreats a few steps until he’s back at the far edge of the room, just in front of the door he entered from. “Sorry, I guess it was probably quite the shock to wake up here. My name is Jake. You’re in our…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “Well, our home, I suppose.”

For a moment, you just look at him. Chest still rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even your breathing. You can still feel your pulse in your neck. 

If the situation weren't so disorienting, so terrifyingly confusing, you might be mildly amused by the almost… sheepish look that crosses his features. Where he avoids eye contact with you from the doorframe, this boy certainly doesn’t look like a threat. 

If you had to guess, you’d say that he — Jake — is around your age. With dark hair that falls across his forehead and wide, dark eyes, he has a distinct sort of beauty that almost reminds you of… 

Suddenly, in the confines of your missing memories, you’re grasping at straws again. 

“Specifically,” Jake adds, realizing the information might be pertinent to you, “this is Heeseung’s room.”

Heeseung. You know that name. You think it’s the one you were searching for. 

Heeseung. 

It sparks something. A flicker of a memory. A ghost of the answers you seek. 

You feel like you’re on the verge of a revelation when you ask, “Where is he? Heeseung?”

Jake’s expression betrays no surprise. He’d expected you to ask him that, you realize. It does, however, suddenly appear a bit more guarded. “He’s recovering. That poison he got out of you really did a number on him.”

For a moment, his words do nothing but reverberate in your aching skull. And then—

“Poison?”

Jake just looks at you for a second, brow pulling down in confusion as if you’re the strange one in this situation. As if poison and Heeseung’s apparent removal of it should already be old news. Then, a flicker of realization crosses his features. His brow softens. 

“That’s right,” he mumbles. Again, it seems more for his benefit than yours. “I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

Moonflower? In humans? 

“Memory loss?”

“It’s only temporary,” Jake says, as if that’s enough to make everything better. “Everything will start to come back soon, I’m sure.” He pauses, frowning. A flicker of sympathy enters his gaze. “I feel like I should warn you, though. Judging from the way you and Heeseung came in here a couple of nights ago, it might be a lot to take in all at once when they do.”

A couple of nights ago. Which means—

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Just over two days. It’s Friday night now. Almost midnight.” While the shock of that settles into your system, Jake continues, “Which reminds me, I brought you some things I thought you might need.”

He turns away from you, opening the door. When he closes it behind him again, he now has two bags in his hand. Carefully, like one might approach a wounded animal, he takes slow footsteps towards you. 

Setting the bags down next to the nightstand, he explains, “This one has water and food. I wasn’t sure what you would like, so feel free to have whatever, and let us know if there’s anything else you want.”

Looking at the second bag, he adds, “I also brought you some clothes. We didn’t really have anything for a girl here. I mean, Sunghoon had a couple of things, but I didn’t really think you’d want them. Sunoo and Niki went out and got some stuff. I’m sure they did their best, but, uh,” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “No promises.”

Jake nods towards the dresser that sits by the desk. “If you hate everything, you can also look through whatever Heeseung has in there. I’m sure he wouldn't mind.”

That name again. Heeseung. There’s nothing solid in your memory, but heat finds itself on your cheekbones anyway. The thought of wearing his clothes just feels like something that should warrant that reaction, even if you’re not sure why. 

“There’s also a bathroom through that door.” Jake jerks his chin towards the door across from the foot of the bed. And maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t have enough time to craft an escape through there, you think. This conversation might have been significantly more awkward in a bathroom. “Feel free to use anything in there, including the shower, if you want. There should be clean towels in the bottom drawer.”

He takes another long look at you, that same sympathy from earlier coloring his gaze. It feels weighted, heavy. As if he’s forseen some great tragedy you’re not yet privy too. As if he knows something you don’t. “I’m sure you have a million questions, but I think you’ll feel better with some food and water in you.” He nods towards the bags he set close to you. “And a fresh change of clothes.” 

He’s probably right. With the urgency of your former panic subsiding, you still don’t feel at ease. But neither fight nor flight seem like appropriate responses to this situation. Which leaves you stuck with a third one: reluctant trust. 

As you make your peace with it, something begins to press at the fog in your mind. It swirls, collects as if being pressed against a glass window. Your memories are still evasive, but there’s something there, in that haze. Syllables stuck on a loop, a constant repetition that begs your attention. 

Heeseung. 

There’s a sudden urgency in your gut. The distinct feeling that things will start to make sense again if you can just see him, talk to him. Jake said that he’s recovering. From poison. But you don’t know what that means, don’t understand what kind of gravity it might hold. 

Vague sentiments conveyed through a messenger are hardly enough to satisfy the tugging in your mind. 

So you ask, “Can I see him? Heeseung?”

Something flickers across Jake’s gaze, too fast for you to catch it fully. Concern maybe. A premonition of fear. Still, he says, “He’s okay. I promise. You’ll be able to see him soon.” For a moment, Jake falls into silence, weighing words on his tongue like he can’t decide if he should share them or not. “But he’s not really in the best shape for visitors right now. Take care of you first, and then we can talk more if you want. And when you’re both ready, you can see Heeseung, too.”

It’s hardly a satisfying answer, but Jake holds the cards here. You have nothing to leverage, nothing to bargain. 

Before he leaves, he reiterates, “I’m sure that your memories will start to come back soon. Like I said, it might be a lot all at once. I’ll let you eat and get changed, if you want. The door locks.” He nods to the door handle. “So does the one on the bathroom door. And please, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just outside.”

Gently, Jake opens the door, pulls it shut behind him. And then you’re alone again. 

Gone is the frantic terror you awoke with, and left in its wake is a gentler sort of fear. A deep sense of unease that refuses to fade. 

Pushing it aside for now, you attend to your baser needs. Heeding Jake’s advice, you retrieve the first bag he left for you, pulling it up onto the bed. 

The first thing you see is a bottle of water. You make quick work of pulling it out, removing the cap, and taking a long sip. It’s cool, refreshing. Soothes your aching throat before settling heavily at the bottom of your empty stomach. 

Taking another handful of gulps, you replace the cap before setting it on the nightstand. Opening the bag further, you reveal its other contents. 

It’s possibly the strangest assortment of food that you’ve ever seen. Frowning in confusion, you take stock of what you’ve been given. It just gets weirder the more you look at it. It’s as if Jake went to the grocery store and just grabbed the first thing he saw in every aisle with no regard for how they would fit together. As if he hasn’t made himself a meal since the day he was born. 

The first thing you pull out is a box of dry pasta, completely inedible without cooking utensils you currently have no access to. Jake did say you could ask him for anything, but even boiling water has a way of feeling like an insurmountable task in your current state. You move on. 

What follows is hardly better. There’s a singular, unripe avocado, an entire family sized bag of clementine oranges, three boxes of breakfast cereal, a loaf of bread, and — you pause a moment to count — eight different kinds of granola bars. 

Pushing past the strangeness, you figure you don’t need a Michelin star meal to ease the hunger. For now, you decide that one of the granola bars and a clementine look the most appetizing. 

After a few minutes, the blunt edges of hunger lose their sharpness. But even with a bit of food in your system, the nausea hold steady. 

Mind addled, you curse yourself for not asking him the most obvious question. What the hell happened to you? 

But he did say your memories should be coming back soon, and you decide you’ll just have to trust in that for now. 

Next, you reach for the bag of clothes. You didn’t think it was possible, but it somehow manages to be even stranger than the food. 

To your shoppers’ credit, they are girls’ clothes, yes, but it seems that was the only criteria for selection. It’s the dead of winter, and the first two things you pull out are a pair of denim shorts and a sundress. Frowning, you refold them both, placing them back in the bag. At least they still have their tags. Hopefully the two boys Jake mentioned kept their receipt. 

That leaves you with your other option. Glancing over at the dresser, his dresser, you’re at an impasse. 

Even with gaping holes in your memory, it feels invasive, far too intimate to look through his things. To go through his clothes until you find something that suits you. To wear it without his permission. 

Taking a sidelong glance at the pair of denim shorts, you decide you don’t have all that much pride left to barter, anyway. After all, you work up disoriented, weak, and missing all of your memories in the boy’s bed. What’s a spare change of clothes in comparison with that?

As you gingerly pad your way to the dresser, you decide it feels less like snooping if you only reach for what’s on top. Luck is on your side. The first thing you see when you open the top drawer is a sweatshirt and matching pair of sweatpants, both of which are ridiculously soft. 

Stolen goods in tow, you continue towards the bathroom door. Pulling it closed behind you, you see that Jake was telling the truth. The lock slides into place with a small click.  

Like his bedroom, Heeseung’s bathroom is fairly nondescript. Devoid of decor, it holds what he needs and little else. Opening the bottom drawer of the vanity, you find a clean towel and set it down on the counter, next to the clothes. 

Lifting your head, you catch your reflection in the mirror. It’s enough to have you double take. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The tangled mess of hair and dark circles of exhaustion beneath your eyes are things you could forgive. Two days of straight sleep is enough to wreak at least a little havoc on anyone. 

But that’s not what has your reflection freezing. 

Delicately, as if the truth will somehow be less awful if revealed slowly, you tilt your head to the side. Pull your hair away, tuck it behind your ear. Expose the dark, mottled assortment of discolored marks that extend all the way from your jaw to the base of your neck. 

Bruises. Deep, dark bruises. 

And on top of them, uneven, flaky patches of multicolored crimson. Dried blood, you realize as your stomach gives a sickening lurch. 

Is it yours? Heeseung’s? Someone else’s? 

The fog in your mind suddenly feels like an enclosure. Holding you hostage and dangling your forgotten memories just out of reach. Trapping you in the darkness and offering no way out, no way through. Just a dim candle against the vast, midnight darkness of terror. 

You’re too wrung out to cry, too confused to so much as gasp. As reality unfolds, devastation seems to be the norm, not the exception. Even if your throat weren’t raw, you’re not sure you’d scream. 

With trepidation, you raise a hand, watching the way your fingers tremble in your reflection. And then your run a gentle touch over the evidence of destruction, a war waged on your skin. Once it nears your jaw, you feel something. A small bump that has you hissing at the contact. 

Leaning forward, you examine it closer. It’s a tiny wound, barely perceptible. It reminds you of a vaccination at the doctor’s office. Neat, sterile. 

Enough to be confusing, yes. Arguably even concerning. But it’s not what has you reeling. 

Because around the tiny mark are two more puncture wounds. Perfectly circular still, but decidedly larger. Rougher. Deeper. They’re embedded into your skin on either side of the smaller wound. And if you didn’t know any better, if your mind had any more capacity for the impossible, you’d almost think they look like…

You’d almost think they look like bite marks. 

The longer you stare, the more sinister they appear. The more hopelessly horrified you feel. What happened to you? Why does the side of your neck look like a watercolor painting of violets? Why does it look like you’ve been bitten?

If this is what you look like, what kind of state is Heeseung in? Jake said it himself that he’s in no condition for visitors. 

What if he’s not recovering as well as Jake said? What if it’s your fault—?

No. You won’t let yourself spiral there. 

Memories, you just need your memories. 

Which means you just need a little more time. 

The shower, to your relief, has plenty of hot water to spare. For long minutes, you just stand there, letting it pour over you, your skin, your aching muscles. As water seeps through the drain, it carries some of your tension with it.

You watch as the water that circles the drain runs red before it clears again, blood washed away from your skin.

It’s instinct, mostly. The desire to confirm what you already know, that has you retracing the strange marks on your neck. 

A hiss of pain is the only thing that ensues in response at first. But then something else comes. 

A flicker of a memory. 

A strange place, a dark room. 

New Haven. The publishing house. Because you had gone there to meet Professor Kim, to show him your draft, to see the space you’d won an internship in. 

It’s coming back now, in fragments. 

There had been something strange, though. It was dark when you arrived. Dark and empty and quiet until—

Until suddenly it wasn’t. Until Heeseung was there with you.

Warm water traces steady lines on your skin. Your memory reappears in tangled, discombobulated jumbles. Things clicking into place as you do your best to sort them chronologically. 

Heeseung was there, but he wasn’t supposed to be. You had gone there to see Professor Kim. Why wasn’t he—?

The sudden flash of memory is sickening. Has another bout of nausea threatening the contents of your stomach. 

It all comes back, all at once. Replaying like a nightmare, like a scene plucked from a horror film. 

Blood dripping from your professor’s mouth. Clothes tattered on his body. Heeseung shielding you, protecting you. 

But Professor Kim wasn’t himself. He wasn’t right. He threw something at you. Something that hit you right where he intended. 

Without your permission, your fingers are back on the slippery skin of your neck. The blood is gone, but the wound remains just the same. The wound that Professor Kim gave to you. 

You remember the feeling of floating, of being distant from your body, removed from reality. Mind on some other plane of existence. 

You remember gentle, insistent, desperate hands on your waist. Your jaw. Your forehead. 

Heeseung, bent over you, consuming your limited plane of vision as your eyelids became too heavy to remain open. 

Pain in your neck. Sharp at first. Then dull, numbing. 

Heeseung. Heeseung bit you. Held you in his arms as consciousness drained from your body along with your blood. 

Poison, Jake had called it. ‘Poison he got out of you.’

It’s all so strange. They’re your memories, yes, and you’re sure of them, but why was there poison in your neck? Why was biting you the solution? How did his teeth leave such perfectly circular marks on—?

The final puzzle piece clicks into place. 

Vampire attacks. You had been worried about Heeseung, relieved to see him safe and sound at New Haven. Because you had just read about vampire attacks. 

Robotically, you turn the water off. Step out of the shower, wrap a towel around your body. 

His clothes are soft against your skin. 

Heeseung saved you. Of that, you’re sure. But what about the three people at the river? The three victims of a vampire attack?

It can’t be true. It can’t. You don’t know him, not really, but he’s just… Heeseung. 

An annoyingly competent poet and a massive pain in your ass. Someone that walks you home when you stay too late in the library. Someone that calls your writing awful when it is, when you need a cold, hard reality check. 

He’s… he’s just Heeseung. He’s not a—

You can’t even bring yourself to finish the thought. 

But your memories are back, and there’s a alertness to your mind that only sharpens as the fog clears. 

At the edge of your mind, Jake’s voice replays. Something you glossed over in your confusion, something you fixate on now. 

“I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

“I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

The strange assortment of food. Jake’s undeniable, uncanny beauty. The kind you’ve only ever seen in one other person. 

Jake was right. You do feel a bit better with food and water in your stomach. With the last three days of horror washed off of your skin. But your mind is alert now. The memories are coming back. Puzzle pieces rearranging and clicking into place with alarming accuracy. 

And as the dust settles, you’re suddenly very, very afraid of the reality that greets you. 

In your mind, the facts play on a loop. 

You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how to leave. Jake has been nothing but kind, but if he so wished, you’re sure he could overpower you easily. And he insinuated that he’s not the only one here. 

You need answers. You need to leave. But Heeseung…

You have to know. 

Is the boy you’ve been trying to outwrite for months, the boy you shared a moment under a moonlit sky with, is he a… a vampire?

Why was he at New Haven that day? Did he know about Professor Kim? Did he know about the deaths at the river? Was he complicit in them? Was he responsible for them?

Clothed in determination and a fleeting moment of bravery, you undo the lock on the bathroom door, passing through the bedroom, his bedroom, on furious footsteps. The second door opens just as easily as the bathroom had, and suddenly, you’re in the room you caught just a glimpse of before. A living room, of sorts. Some sort of common area. 

True to his earlier word, Jake sits nearby. Planted on a navy sofa, he looks up when you enter. “How are you feeling? Do you need any—”

Manners are the last thing on your mind when you interrupt him mid-sentence. “What are you?” Not ‘who are you.’ That won’t give you the answer you seek. The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous. 

Jake’s mouth falls shut, presses into a line. Hesitation paints his features. “I don’t think this is the best—”

You won’t hear it. “What are you?”

Jake holds up his palms in surrender. “Your memories are starting to come back, I take it. Look, we can explain everything, just—”

On the far end of the room, another door opens. Another boy enters. Just like Heeseung, just like Jake, he’s beautiful. Moves with that same unnatural grace that you used to admire when you thought no one would notice. Now, it has another surge of nausea rolling in your stomach. 

Jake glances at the new arrival. He sighs. “This isn’t really a good time, Sunghoon. Why don’t you—”

The boy, Sunghoon, never hears Jake’s suggestion. Instead, he cuts him off. And once again, your world is spinning. 

“He’s back.”

…..

You are the last to enter the strange room. On the heels of Jake and Sunghoon, despite the former’s insistence that you wait and see him later, you take in your surroundings. 

Odd enough was the long, winding hallway that led you here, but this is even stranger. Instead of a proper door, the room is guarded by long, thick metal bars. They stand ajar now but bear a rather impressive lock. You have the distinct impression that this place was designed to keep people out. Or maybe rather to keep someone in. 

You hear him before you see him. Memories recovered, the sound of his voice is something you’re well attuned to, even if it flickers with a strong tone of annoyance. 

“Yes, I’m fine. I told you, it’s a ridiculously strong sedative at its core. We’ll react strangely, yes, but it’s not the same as bloodlust—”

“Still,” another voice argues. “We all saw how she looked when you brought her in. You had to have drank a considerable amount—”

“I told you I’m fine, Jungwon,” Heeseung counters. “Do I look out of control to you? Would I be sitting here having this conversation with you if I was?”

“Fine.” It’s the same voice. Jungwon. “If you’re alive and well, then maybe you can answer my question. What were you doing at New Haven? Do you know how long we’ve—”

It’s probably stupid, shoving past people in their own home. People that you suspect are dangerous, that might not really be people at all. But you have to see him. You have to know. 

Once you finally get around Sunghoon, your view of the room opens up. Sparsely decorated, dimly lit, and there are four other boys you don’t recognize. You pay them no attention. 

Because in the middle of it all stands Heeseung. Maybe, if you squint, you could argue that he looks a little worse for wear. There’s a pink flush under his eyes, a slight disarray to his usually perfect hair, but other than that, he paints the perfect, untouchable picture he always has. 

At the commotion of your sudden movement, all eyes in the room turn from Heeseung and land squarely on you. For a moment, seven gazes just look at you. All of them are blank. Lost. Out of depth. 

All except for the one you match. 

Where he stands, Heeseung stares at you with an intensity you’ve only seen once before. In a moment you wish you could forget. In a fragmented memory you already know you’re cursed to carry forever. 

Slowly, his eyes scan the length of your body, something in his jaw tightening when he notes the clothes you’re wearing. His clothes. 

Jungwon is still pressing him for answers. Heeseung doesn’t bother to provide any. 

Instead, he says, “Give us a minute.”

He’s still looking at you. Frozen in place, his eyes trace the line of your neck, ghosting over the array of bruises, the twin wounds he left there. His voice betrays no emotion, but his eyes flash with something that looks all too much like regret, shame. 

Jungwon balks for a moment. “No, I’m not giving you a minute. You could have jeopardized everything we’ve been working towards—”

Heeseung does break eye contact with you then. Turning to the boy that stands next to him, he says, “What’s done is done, Jungwon. A few more minutes won’t change that. You can shout at me some more in a minute.”

“Ouch.” A boy that you don’t recognize winces. 

“Right?” another one of the strangers agrees. “A pretty human over five hundred years of brotherhood.” He shakes his head. “I’d expect that from Sunghoon, maybe, but—”

Behind you, Jake sighs. “Is this really the time, you two?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agrees, arms crossing his chest as he pouts. “And I take offense to that, you know. I would not put all of your hard work in danger for a human.” Sunghoon takes a sidelong glance at you. “No offense.”

“Just give us a minute,” Heeseung repeats again, more command in his voice this time as he slides a palm through his hair in frustration. “Please. All of you.”

There’s enough authority in his voice time. Or maybe enough pleading. Whatever it is, the rest of the room files out, one by one. Even Jungwon, although he does cast one final, warning look over his shoulder. 

It’s lost on Heeseung, who has already turned his attention back to you. “Are you okay?” 

An echo of the past, a reminder of why you’re here. Of why your throat threatens to close up now, just looking at him.  

Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how you’d answer him. Physically, you’re sore. Tired even though you’ve been sleeping for days. Temporary aches. Things that will heal with rest and time. 

Mentally, though… Your mind is spinning a million miles a minute. Even now, face to face with him, you can’t reconcile all of the pieces of Heeseung you’ve gathered. 

Indifferent student. Brilliant writer. Honest reviewer. Maybe even a friend. 

Vampire. 

You don’t know what to make of him. You don’t know how to piece him together. 

He’s here, standing in front of you. You used to stare at the back of his head during lectures. Used to fantasize about him giving you a minute of his time. 

And now, it’s just the two of you. Alone. His eyes search your face, his focus consumed by you. And he’s never felt further away. 

You don't answer his question. Instead, you ask one of your own. 

“What’s going on?” Your voice is small, holds none of the command you wish it could. “And don’t… don’t you dare lie to me.”

Across from you, Heeseung exhales. There’s a distinct sorrow in his eyes. “I won’t. But it’s a long story. And there are parts of it I’m not sure you’ll like.”

“I don’t care.” But you do, so much that it hurts. You almost wish you were still begging for scraps of his attention. At least then, you knew where you stood. “I want the truth.” That much, at least, is honest. 

Heeseung nods, as if any of this is simple. “Then you’ll have it.”

A beat of silence passes. You remember the question you had asked Jake less than an hour ago. What are you? You can’t quite bring yourself to ask it now. Not with everything that has passed between you. Not when it feels like more of an accusation than an inquiry. 

You wear his wounds on your skin. You don’t know why you still want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Still, you ask, “Who are you?” The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous. 

Heeseung doesn’t smile, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips. “I’m not undercover. My name is Heeseung.” The flicker of amusement dies. He knows what you’re really asking him. He knows it’s not an easy answer to give, not an easy truth to receive. “But I’m… different. I was born with a strange ability.”

You breathe. “What kind of ability?”

Heeseung looks down at his hands. Studies them for a moment before turning back to you. “It would be easier to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Instinctively, your hand finds the wound on your neck. 

A dark shadow crosses Heeseung’s features. “That’s not the ability I’m referring to.” 

There’s a chair in the room, just behind him. He walks to it and sits down at the edge, knees wide. “Come here.”

You shouldn’t. You should stay as far away as space allows. You shouldn’t let him do anything. In every sense of the word, he holds the advantage here. You’re in his home. He has knowledge you don’t. The only thing you have left to leverage is the distance between you and your decision to maintain it. 

But every inch between you was doomed to be a losing battle. Steady, slow footsteps erase the distance between you as you come to stand directly in front of him. 

At this angle, with your positioning, he’s forced to look up at you. Chin lifted, he whispers, “Hold out your hand.”

You could try to fight. You could question him. You don’t. Resistance was always going to be futile. In no time at all, your hand is outstretched. 

Once again, Heeseung studies his own fingers. A shudder traces the length of his spine. Hesitation spills from every minute movement, every microexpression you’re allowed. It’s straining him, you realize. This ability is not something he’s excited to share. 

You can’t decide if that eases your worry or increases it tenfold. 

But after another wasted moment, his right hand reaches out to encircle the skin of your left wrist. For a few stilted heartbeats, it’s just the two of you in a strange room, a cage of sorts, your wrist cradled in his loose grip. 

Then, your vision begins to flicker. At first, you think it’s a trick of the light. Something lingering side effect of a long sleep as everything begins to go out of focus. 

But as the room around you fades, something takes its place. It takes a moment to manifest completely, for your eyes to adjust. 

In front of you, Heeseung still sits in his chair, gaze trained on your wide eyes. But the two of you are no longer in the small, threadbare room. Instead, you stand in an open field, freckled with wildflowers and teeming with butterflies. Above you, the sky is blue and vast, the late summer sun casting a vibrant glow over everything. 

In your shock, you nearly wrench your arm out of Heeseung’s grip. He senses the movement, tightens his fingers around your wrist before you can pull away. 

“Sorry.” He glances at where you two are touching. “It’s better not to break contact once you’re in. It’s quite disorienting if you do. And it will give you awful motion sickness.”

Once you’re in where? Turning your head, you look for something, anything, that makes even the tiniest bit of sense. But all you see is grass. The vast expanse of an open field that only ends where it meets the sky. 

“Where are we?”

“Still in the same room,” Heeseung says. “Physically, at least.” He takes a deep breath. “This is the ability I referred to. It’s a bit difficult to describe, but I can… project my consciousness, I guess. As long as we maintain physical contact, I can show you things from my mind. Memories, visions, anything I dream up. What you see now is the field where I discovered my ability, actually. A friend and I were playing here. I was ten.” He pauses, looks at you. “The year was 1534.”

The full weight of his words barely has time to settle before the vision is morphing, the scene changing into another. 

“It’s difficult to know where to start, but I suppose the beginning is as good a place as any. In the Kingdom of Celedis,” he narrates, “there were eight noble families that had been feuding with each other for over a century. As a result of their petty infighting, the common people suffered. There was constant strife throughout the kingdom. Pains that caused immense suffering but left the nobles untouched. There were frequent blockades, limits on trading, restricted movement, and nasty skirmishes along the borders. Petty crime ran rampant, unchecked. People weren’t safe anywhere, not even in their homes.”

You see it just as he imagines it. Tired, hungry, exhausted people. Mistreated and left to the whims of whatever best suited the nobles’ current desires. 

And the rulers, the nobles themselves. Eight men, adorned in finery, showered with gifts and praise and fine wines while the people just outside the walls of their ornate homes suffered just to survive, starving to death while they gorged themselves on luxury. 

You wouldn’t consider yourself an expert in history, and it’s not like the scenario is exactly uncommon, but you still find it strange that you’ve never heard of this place, not even in passing. 

“Celedis?” You frown. 

“It’s been erased now,” is all Heeseung says. “From both existence and memory. But it was real, a long time ago. And it was where I was born.”

Again, the scene around you starts to take on that odd, unfocused quality. It’s changing again. By now, you almost feel accustomed to the way images and light start to distort as one vision bleeds into another. 

“Celedis was a strange kingdom,” Heeseung continues. “Full of old magic. Ancient rituals and rites that faded from most places but held true there. The land was, in many ways, just as alive as you and I. And it grew weary of seeing its people suffer.”

You see a man now, dressed in simple clothes, tucked in the back corner of what appears to be a shop. He’s surrounded by crystals, trinkets, and old, leather-bound books. 

“One night, the eight noble lords received a message from a seer, one that claimed to communicate with the land, to speak for Celedis as its messenger. The seer told them that the old magic of the land would grant them a single wish on one condition: There had to be peace in the kingdom by the night of the blood moon. A night that comes only once every hundred years. When the moon itself shines bright red.  

“Seven of the lords, eager to have a wish granted, did as the seer advised. They ceased their fighting, recalled their troops. Began to support and protect their people once again. The eighth lord, however, did not.”

After a moment, you’re plunged into darkness. Above you, the night sky of Heeseung’s mind twinkles with distant stars and a distinct, crimson red moon. Seven men, all dressed in finery, stand around an oak tree. The rules of Heeseung’s ability don’t seem to be governed by the laws of physics. You watch as an eighth man appears, seemingly out of thin air. The same man from the crystal shop. 

“The seven who heeded the seer’s advice gathered on the night of the blood moon to pass along their wish — they wanted their bloodlines to endure forever. 

“The seer passed this message along, but old magic is a fickle thing. You have to be precise with your words, or things will be lost in translation. Interpreted in strange ways.”

Now, you stand in a nursery. There’s a crib in the corner. A pregnant woman bends over it, singing a soft lullaby. 

“Within the year, each of the seven noble lords gave birth to a son. They took this with great joy, a sign that their wish had come true. Before the year reached its end, each of the seven had procured a strong, healthy heir to succeed them.”

Suddenly, you’re back in the endless field from before, watching two young boys play in the distance. 

“But these were no ordinary sons. And around the age of ten, each of them revealed a special ability, a supernatural gift.” 

The two boys are playing a game, you realize. You can’t decipher the rules, but you watch as they throw their heads back in a burst of carefree laughter. The first young boy grabs his friend by the wrist. A harmless gesture. A meaningless touch. 

The second boy recoils as if he’s been burned. Hand back at his side, he doubles over in pain, emptying the contents of his stomach. 

In front of you, Heeseung looks away. 

In the distance, another version of Heeseung apologizes profusely as the other child turns his back. 

He changes the scene before you can watch any further. 

You’re in a bedroom now, watching a young man put on a jacket. It’s startling, almost, how similar he looks. The two of you watch as Heeseung, because it is undoubtedly him, pulls the jacket over his back, slides his arms through the sleeves. 

The resemblance is so uncanny that the only thing that sets this Heeseung apart, really, is the style of his clothing. The coat that obviously belongs to another century, lost to time. 

“And once each son reached their twenty-first birthday,” Heesung says. “They stopped aging.”

Heeseung and his jacket dissolve, change into something else. The new scene you look out upon is somber. Heeseung is there again, this time dressed in all black. The clothes of a mourner. Aside from that, he looks exactly the same. 

Then you see the casket. The portrait standing next to it. It’s her, you realize. The woman from the nursery, the one who hummed the lullaby. Much, much older though. Fifty years older. Maybe sixty. 

You look at this vision’s Heeseung again. He hasn’t aged a day. Still the epitome of youth, even as he mourns the death of his mother. 

“This was the interpretation of the wish, how it was warped through old magic. The bloodline would endure forever, because each son that had been born in the year of the blood moon was born immortal. But by doing so, the seven lords’ wish had also effectively ended their bloodline. Their sons would never grow old, never bear children. And none were ever given a sibling. 

“The eighth lord, the one that did not agree to peace and therefore did not receive a wish, had not yet foreseen this tragedy. He didn’t understand the implications of immortality, the terrible burden it brings. All he saw was an opportunity that he had lost. In his eyes, it had been stolen.”

You watch as the eighth lord bangs on the door of the crystal shop, face red, fury obvious in every inch of his visage. 

“When he discovered the nature of the gift the other lords had been given, the eighth became enraged. He went to the seer and demanded that he pass along his wish to the old magic of the land. That his son, born as an ordinary human, would also be given the gift of immortality.”

In front of you, the lord lunges at the seer, rage in his eyes. The seer raises his hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. 

“The seer pleaded with the lord. He tried to explain that he had no way of passing his request along. That the ability to communicate with old magic was not something he could do whenever he so pleased.”

The scene changes, the seer and his shop disappearing. Again, you see the oak tree. This time, though, it is only the eighth lord that stands before it. His eyes are sunken, shaded with deep, dark shadows. A mad desperation is painted across his features. 

“After murdering the seer for his insolence, the eighth lord went to the oak tree, a place rumored to be full of old magic. He wished for his son to become like the other seven sons, and he gave the seer’s blood as an offering.” 

The scene morphs again, fading until you’re surrounded by the ghastliest thing you’ve seen yet. You and Heeseung are in a small room. In the center, there’s an ornate dining table adorned with expensive cutlery and fine china. Lined with a lacy white tablecloth. 

And blood. The room, the tablecloth, the plates, are covered in dark, red blood. 

“There was one last thing that the eighth lord did not yet understand about immortality. About the other seven sons.”

One by one, you watch as they appear. 

Jake. Sunghoon. Jungwon. The others whose names you do not yet know. Heeseung.

Their mouths, clothes, faces, are all covered in it, dripping with it. Blood. 

“The old magic, above all, favors balance. In exchange for eternal life, it deemed that the only thing capable of sustaining it would be the life of others. Their blood. Once a year, on the anniversary of the day the seven noble lords cast their selfish wish, their seven sons would need to feed. To consume blood. This would sustain them for the rest of the year. They did not need to eat, drink, or sleep on any other day.

“But that one day, every year, they would always need blood.”

The horror of the bloody dining room fades. Now, you see the eighth son. Your eyes widen in fear as the image continues to develop in front of you, one ghastly scene traded for another. He is in a throne room, back bent unnaturally, a predatory glint in his eyes. Blood covers his mouth, his jaw. And as he rises to his full height, the rest of the horror is unveiled. 

He stands above the pale, drained, lifeless body of his father. 

“As I said before, old magic is a fickle thing. It listened to the eighth lord’s request that his son ‘become like the other seven sons,’ but not everything was the same. He was granted immortality, yes, and he also needed to consume blood to sustain himself. Unlike the original seven, he needed to feed frequently. Consume blood often. If he didn’t, the urges would drive him mad. Send him into a frenzy. 

“It was in such a state that he killed his own father. Murdered the rest of his family and every other living soul he found in the castle.”

You now stand in the dim light of a castle corridor. Beams of moonlight cast a cool glow as a soft breeze rustles tree branches just outside the window. It’s quiet, eerily so. In front of you, a person lies motionless. The wound on their neck matches yours, but instead of bruising, it’s surrounded by fresh blood. 

You watch in silent horror as the eighth son’s victim begins to twitch. At first, it’s just the fingers of their left hand. A spasm that shakes their shoulder. And then their mouth opens, face contorted in agony as they let out a long, blood curdling scream. 

Heeseung spares you the burden of hearing it.

“One of his victims, however, he did not drain fully of blood. Lost to his instinct, he had gorged himself so full that he could drink no more. This human, nearly dead, began to transform. And after long hours of acute agony, turned into a vampire of the same nature as the eighth son. Uncontrollable. Frenzied. And full of bloodlust.”

It reminds you of a montage, the scene that plays next. Still standing in front of Heeseung, your wrist still between his fingers, you watch as villages appear and fade. Families, lovers, children running in fear as the domino effect begins to take place. As one vampire becomes ten. As they fall into bloodlust, leaving a bloody path in their wake. 

The image of a young woman, mouth agape and features frozen in terror, remains imprinted on the backs of your eyelids as the small, dark room of Heeseung’s home comes back into view. As the last of the illusion fades, he releases his grip, freeing you from his ability. 

Your arm falls limply to your side. 

“For years,” he tells you, and there’s no image to accompany his words now. Nowhere to look but his eyes. “We just existed. Tried to carve meaning into our lives, tried to find a reason to keep living once it became apparent that was never something we would need to fight for. 

“But terror continued to reign. Vampire populations continued to spread and after three hundred long years of acting only in our own self-interest, we decided to intervene. To help the human effort to eradicate vampirism and the blight it had become. 

“But we never wanted to become judge, jury, or executioner. And playing god was never something we found pleasure in. We let many live. Vampires that demonstrated restraint, that chose to live far away from humans. Vampires that we came across on days we were tired of killing. Of being monsters.”

His words hang heavy between you. Was it a mistake, not finishing the job? Was it mercy?

“Professor Kim is what brought us here, actually. He has an unnaturally high level of control over his instincts. One we’ve never seen from a descendent of the eighth son.”

You inhale, more pieces beginning to fall into place. “So you enrolled in his course—”

“With the intention of winning the internship, yes,” he confirms. “Of getting a chance to study him up close.” 

Heeseung smiles wryly. “You were quite the pain at first, actually. After those first few days of class, I wasn’t so sure I could outwrite you.”

You have no idea what to say to that. An apology feels strange, but he’s just told you that you essentially foiled a grand plan to reduce the threat of vampires, to better understand their nature. “I…”

Heeseung pushes on, “It didn’t end up mattering, though.” He frowns. “The last day of the semester, the day I was late. I’d been following him. Trailing him from his house when he…” He trails off. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened. But I think he scented me. Or somehow realized I was on his tail.”

You frown. “Is that unusual?” You remember Jake’s words earlier. I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up. “I thought that vampires had heightened senses.”

“We do,” Heeseung clarifies. “But there are differences between us — the original seven — and all other vampires. Our senses are much stronger. They still have sharper senses than a human, yes, but I accounted for that. He shouldn’t have been able to detect me.”

“What are the other differences?”

“The seven of us are the only ones with any kind of additional abilities. We each have one, and they’re all different. We only need to feed once a year, and we have far more control over our instincts. We don’t experience bloodlust nearly as strong.” He passes you a meaningful glance. “Unless we’re feeding.”

Looking around, Heeseung confirms your suspicions.  “That’s what this room is, actually. A precautionary measure. It hasn’t happened in the last five hundred years, but we like knowing that there’s somewhere we won’t be able to escape, should the need for that ever arise.” 

“And you’re in here, because you… you drank my blood.”

Heeseung’s expression is unreadable. “Yes. The others thought it would be wise. It was precautionary. And ultimately unnecessary.” Again, he glances at your neck. “I didn’t experience any bloodlust. I was weak for a couple of days, but that wasn’t because of you. The dart that the professor shot you with had traces of moonflower in it. It’s poisonous for us.” 

As he looks at you, he explains, “Humans can ingest it safely in small doses, usually. Some brew it as a tea. You just have to be careful not to have too much, since it can cause temporary memory loss. But injected straight into the bloodstream, the effects are unknown.” His eyes flicker with a memory. You, crumpled in his arms, losing your grip on consciousness. “But it didn’t look good.”

So he had sucked it out of your neck. 

Your neck. Where he bit you.

Another piece of the vision he’s just shown you comes flashing back. 

“You bit me.” 

Heeseung meets your gaze. “I did.”

“Am I…” It’s hard to quell the panic once the realization starts to set in. Flashes of faces contorted in agony swim across your vision. “Am I going to change?”

“No,” Heeseung shakes his head. Leans forward, as if to reach for you. He thinks better of it, letting his hand fall back to his side. “No, that’s another difference. The seven of us can’t create new vampires.”

“Oh.” As the panic ebbs, you find yourself at a loss again. He saved you. Knowingly ingested a substance that could harm him to do so. Gratitude feels in order, but you can’t quite bring yourself to express it. 

The truth you want most to avoid dances on the tip of your tongue. “And you only… feed once a year.”

Again, Heeseung nods. “It doesn’t hurt us to ingest blood more frequently, but it’s not necessary. And like I said, we avoid it. We’re better at maintaining our inhibitions, but blood still has power over us. When we feed, it’s in a room like this. One we can’t get out of until we have complete control again.”

The questions that arise are morbid. How much blood is required to satisfy a year’s worth of thirst? How do they choose? Who lives, who dies for the hunger that binds them to this world? In the last five hundred years, how much blood has been washed from their hands, from his hands?

You can hardly ask him, but the truth still remains. “You’ve killed people.”

Heeseung’s gaze falls to the floor. “I won’t pretend to be innocent.” There’s a distinct edge of self-loathing when he says, “I won’t pretend that I’m not still… a monster. But the blood we ingest comes from animals, not humans.” 

He looks back to you, gaze searching as if he craves something from you. A flicker of trust. The reassurance that you’re not appalled by him, by everything he’s told you. 

You match his eye, and he hates the fear he finds reflected there. 

A moment of stilted silence passes. Another. The weight of a million revelations and a thousand unanswered questions rests heavily between you. It’s a lot to digest all at once. Too much. So much that your mind struggles to bear the weight of it all, to organize the information you’ve received into categories that give sense to the illogical, the impossible. 

Outside the barred door, you hear the whisper of a scuffle. 

“Stop that!”

“Move over. It’s been way more than a minute. I don’t care what he says. I’m going to—”

Heeseung sighs, rolling his eyes as he turns towards the door. “Just come in if you’re going to.”

Six boys tumble through the door in an excited heap. It reminds you a bit of overenthusiastic puppies. Again, you find the differences hard to reconcile. Killers. Monsters. Immortals beings with unnatural powers. 

And they look about as threatening as a gang of kittens. 

“So,” Jake starts, glancing between the two of you. “Did he tell you everything?”

You spare a look at Heeseung. The long fingers that rest at his side. “Showed me, actually.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Jake’s features. “Oh.” He tamps it quickly. “That is more efficient, I suppose.”

“Well,” another boy pipes up, one you don’t yet have a name for. “At least now you know why he’s been following you home like a lovesick puppy every night. You can rest assured he’s not just some crazy stalker, and he—”

“Jay,” Heeseung bites. “Would you shut up already?”

“You’ve been following me?”

“Oh.” Jay winces, realizing the misstep a moment too late. “Sorry, man.” 

Heeseung exhales again. “We were worried Professor Kim might do something,” he explains, looking at you. “It was a precautionary measure.” 

Behind you, you hear a snicker. “Precautionary measure, my ass.”

But you’re too caught up in a sudden realization. Your professor. “It was Professor Kim, then. Those bodies at the river…”

“No, actually.” Jake shakes his head. “We don’t think he was responsible for the bodies at the river.” He nods towards another boy. “Sunoo had eyes on him that night. He was home when the attacks occurred.” 

You frown. “So who was?”

“We don’t know.” Jungwon’s ire may not be directed at you, but you feel it all the same. “We have no idea, and your professor was our best shot at figuring it out.” He looks at Heeseung. “Thanks to the stunt you pulled, we have no way of getting closer to him now.”

Heeseung glares back. “If by stunt, you mean saving someone’s life, then yes, I pulled a stunt.”

“And now there have been three more attacks in the last two days!”

“Wait.” For a moment, your voice reverberates off the walls as all seven of them fall into silence, gazes turning to you. Your face heats at the sudden influx of attention. Finding your words again, you state the obvious oddity. “But it doesn’t make any sense that Professor Kim is a vampire. He hates vampires. Everything New Haven has published is essentially just anti-vampire propaganda.”

“That’s another mystery,” Heeseung says. “Something else we were trying to figure out. And honestly, Jungwon, I don’t think it would have mattered. I told you, he scented me that day, so I’m sure he already knew—”

“That’s impossible.” Jungwon scoffs. 

“And yet it happened.” Heeseung frowns. “There’s something strange about him.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a thin line. “Something that we’re no closer to finding out. It will take months for another one of us to get any sort of trust from him. Never mind access to New Haven.”

With the urgency of an alarm bell, an idea starts to take form in your mind. Rough around the edges but solid in shape. “I think I can help with that.” Again, seven pairs of eyes fall on you, all in varying states of disbelief. “I’m interning with him. At New Haven.”

Heeseung is the first to break the silence. “Like hell you are. Or did you forget that the last time he saw you, he shot you with poison?”

Sunghoon nods. “It does seem like a pretty bad idea.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head. “Think about it. He shot me with something that’s poisonous to vampires. And I think it’s because he saw Heeseung. If he really did… scent you, then he knew you were a vampire. I think… I think he might have been trying to protect me.”

The room is quiet for a moment, your inference settling into the air. It’s a long shot maybe, but it’s starting to come together. 

After a minute, Sunoo says tentatively, “She might be right.” No one else speaks up, but you see a few heads nod in agreement. 

Heeseung is quick to shut them down. “No way. No fucking way. Those are terrible odds, and I’m not betting on them. None of you should be either.”

But the more you think about it, the more it makes sense to you. Why else would your professor shoot you full of something poisonous to vampires? 

You try to think of the scene from his eyes. He walked in on you and Heeseung alone in a dark room. You were frightened out of your mind, and in the split second he had to analyze things, he could have misjudged the source of your fear. One vampire for another. 

So you double down. “I’m serious. This could be the in we need.”

“There is no we,” Heeseung shakes his head. “You’re not a part of this.”

His dismissal makes you bristle. If what Jungwon said is true, the attacks are only increasing, leaving more victims in their wake. And your professor may have unusual amounts of control, but he certainly wasn’t demonstrating that two nights ago. 

“So what, I’m supposed to go home, pretend that everything is normal, and just let people keep dying?” Your gaze meets Jungwon’s. “That’s what will happen, isn’t it? You said there were three more attacks just in the time I was unconscious. How many people have died now?”

Jungwon’s lips are tight. “Eleven.”

“Eleven people,” you echo. “If I go to Professor Kim and tell him—”

“You’re not going anywhere near that man,” Heeseung counters. “We’ll take care of it. It’s what we do.”

But his excuses are wearing thin in your mind, turning flimsy the more you consider them. “How? If he can identify you as vampires, then there’s no way you’ll ever get close enough to figure out how he might be connected to all of this.” You turn, addressing all seven of them. “I, on the other hand, have a draft written about the intrinsic evil of vampirism. I have a bite mark healing on my neck. If I go to him and say that I hate vampires too, that I was attacked by Heeseung, and his poison was the only thing that saved me, then I’ll earn his trust.”

Heeseung just scoffs, shaking his head. “Are the rest of you hearing this?”

Sunghoon opens his mouth hesitantly. “I mean… she kind of has a point.”

Heeseung glares. “Besides you.”

Sunoo frowns for a moment, parts his lips. 

Heeseung doesn’t let him get a word out. “Don’t even try it.” He turns to the others, something pleading in his gaze. “Jungwon, Jay, Niki, Jake, you have to see how insane this is. She’s a human.”

Your lips pull tight. “A human that’s standing right here.”

Jungwon maintains an even tone when he restates the simple fact, “If this professor truly can scent us, we don’t have any way of investigating him further. Not without using force.” He turns to look at you, gaze assessing. “Do you really think he’ll believe that you’re on his side?”

Do you? Maybe Heeseung is right. Maybe you’re betting on ludicrous odds, wasting the last of your luck on a game that was rigged from the beginning. But why inject you with a substance poisonous to vampires? Why publish all of those anti-vampire stories?

You match Jungwon’s eye. “I do.”

“Okay.” Jungwon nods, mulling it over in his mind. “Okay.”

Heeseung watches the exchange with heated eyes. “Absolutely not—”

“You’ve been overruled,” Jay interjects. 

“Six to one,” Niki agrees. Glancing at you, he amends, “Make that seven to one.”

Heeseung is still seeing red. “This isn’t a fucking group vote. We’re not deciding which coffee table to put in the living room. This is a life.” Turning to you, his voice softens, an edge of pleading in his tone. “This is your life.”

“Exactly.” You’re begging too, for a bit of understanding. “It’s my life. A week ago, it was completely consumed by winning an internship, getting my writing published. And now there are vampire attacks ravaging my city. The professor I wanted to impress so badly might just be one of them. Even if I walk away from here and vow to never go near New Haven again, my life won’t go back to what it was. I won’t be safe. So I’m going to do what I can to get back to the things that are important to me.” Eyes heating, you add, “So yes, I am a part of this now, whether you like it or not. And I have the marks on my neck to prove it.”

“Damn,” Sunghoon whistles lowly. “That was kind of beautiful.”

“You have a way with words,” Sunoo agrees. 

“Of course she does,” Jay nods. “Remember how frustrated Heeseung was a few months ago after she presented her analysis or whatever in class? He was so stressed he’d lose out on the internship bec—”

Heeseung’s glare could freeze hellfire. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“It’s late,” Jungwon interrupts, sensing the response that builds on Jay’s tongue. Pouring water over the flames before they can escalate into a full blown argument. Again, he addresses you. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.” He glances around the room, and you imagine he’s trying to see things from your perspective. “Or any one of us would be happy to take you back home, if that’s what you prefer.”

There are aspects of your apartment that appeal to you. Sleeping in your own bed comes to mind. As does getting some distance from all of this. From him. You’ve taken in far too much information in the span of a few hours, and the throbbing against your temple has yet to ease. 

But your apartment is also empty. Quiet, isolated. With recent events in mind, you’re not sure it would feel like such a safe haven. If you’re quite ready to be truly alone. 

Still, you’re tentative. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You’re not,” Jake shakes his head. “It’s been a long few days. I’m sure you could use some rest.”

“Hasn’t she been asleep for, like, two days straight?” Sunghoon whispers to Jay. 

The only thing he gets in response is an elbow to the ribs. 

Jungwon ignores them. “You’re not overstaying anything. You can go home when you’re ready.”

“Ugh,” Niki grumbles. “Does that mean Heeseung’s gonna try and hang out in my room again? Because—”

He falls silent when at least three matching glares turn in his direction. 

Suddenly sheepish, you offer, “I can sleep somewhere else.” Glancing at Heeseung, you add, “I’m sure you want to sleep in your own bed again.” 

Heeseung just gives you a strange look. Niki bursts out laughing. 

“Damn,” Jay says. “Two hundred years really is a long time, I guess. Humans these days don’t remember anything about vampires.”

Cheeks heating with embarrassment, you realize your mistake. Of course. Not only are the boys in front of you blood-drinking immortal beings that have been alive since the early sixteenth century, but they also don’t sleep. 

Mollified, you feel the urge to defend yourself. “Why do you even have beds, then?”

This time, it’s Sunghoon that erupts in a fit of laughter. The other six avoid your gaze pointedly. 

You didn’t think it was possible, but once the realization sinks in, your cheeks heat even further. 

“Oh, cut the poor girl some slack,” Sunoo scolds. Turning to you, he’s kind when he explains, “We don’t sleep, but we do relax. An old force of habit, I suppose. It’s nice to just lay down sometimes.”

Jay can’t help himself. “Among other things, right Sunghoon?”

“Ignore them,” Jungwon advises. “Five hundred year old children.”

“Hey!” Sunghoon protests. “We’re not the ones that couldn’t handle a sex joke—”

Heeseung just sighs, a stray strand of hair falling over his eyes. For a moment, he looks like the boy you used to sit behind in class. Dreamy. Moody. Untouchable. So painfully out of reach that spite made you want to try anyway. 

He’s here now. Within your grasp. And when he looks at you, the quiet words he whispers are meant only for your ears. “I can walk you to my—er—your room, if you’re ready.”

You’re not ready. You don’t think you ever will be. But even a life spun on top of its head has a way of unfolding in predictable ways. Such is the nature of things, and so flows the progression of time. 

You don’t say anything, but you do nod. 

Trailing after him silently down the hallway you came from, you’re not sure if it feels more right to fall into step beside him or let him lead you. In the end, he makes the decision for you. Without breaking stride, Heeseung slows down until your shoulders are aligned, eyes facing forward. 

He doesn’t say anything as the two of you track a steady path to his bedroom. Mind leaden with the weight of the last five hundred years, you remain silent as well. Finally, you pass the common room again. 

He opens the door to his bedroom, steps to the side to let you walk in first. 

Unwittingly, your eyes land on the most conspicuous piece of furniture in the room. Your cheekbones are flaming again, and finding sleep in that bed suddenly feels like an arduous task. 

Heeseung follows your gaze. The golden glow of his skin remains the same, but his eyes flash with embarrassment. “You don't, uh…” He trails off. Even poets struggle with finding the right words at times. Finally, he settles on, “Not all of us live like Sunghoon.”

“He seems nice,” you say, desperate to draw your minds away from where they’ve wandered. 

“That’s one way of putting it.” But there’s affection in his voice when he says it. Brothers, you think. All of them. They seem like brothers. 

Heeseung’s eyes scan the expanse of his bedroom as if he’s looking at it for the first time. “There’s not much.” He seems almost apologetic for it. “But help yourself to whatever you like. The computer doesn’t have a password. And there’s books on the desk, too.”

“Thank you,” you tell him. And you mean it. He’s not someone you expected to be generous with their space, their belongings. Another aspect of him you had all wrong. 

“I’ll let you have some space then.” He pauses at the door. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if there's anything you need.”

“Okay,” you whisper. 

He hesitates a moment longer. You can see it in the curve of his lips, the arrangement of his features. There’s more he wants to say. Something else he wants to tell you. 

Instead, he closes the door behind him on his way out. Gently, so that it hardly makes a noise. 

His bed is comfortable when you lay down, even if your mind is still racing a million miles a minute. Distantly, you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat now. What he thinks of the way it picks up speed every time certain moments replay in your head. 

But despite yourself, despite him, despite everything, you manage to drift off after only a few long minutes. Tucked away in the corner of a strange home, the sleep that greets you is blissfully dreamless.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: WHEW. This is the most info-dumpy we'll be getting, so I hope this made for an enjoyable follow up to the first part regardless. The relationship between our two leads will really start to take off in the next part, as will the remaining aspects of the ~mystery~ now that (most of) the lore/backstory is covered. as always, I love to know what you're thinking!

when your daughter is mad at him | pjs

pairing: pilot!husband!jay x female!reader

genre: fluff, comedy

synopsis: your daughter misses jay, but as a pilot his schedule requires him to be in places but at home. So she sulks and sulks..

“Come on, say hi to appa” you coo at your 3 year old daughter who refused to talk to her dad, “yeorum-ah i miss you so much, i promise to come back to you and give you all the cuddles and all the kisses. Let’s not be mad at each other hmm?” Hearing your husbands voice trying to convince your daughter to finally open her mouth and respond. A smile appeared on your face, reflecting your amusement. 

But she was your daughter, maybe jay’s genes did not even try to fight at this. Your husband, a pilot was once again gone for his work. A grueling week with multiple destinations was for sure hectic. “He said the same thing last time” your daughter mumbles, pushing the phone back to voice barely audible because of her pout.

You gently try to console her. “I know it’s hard, sweetie,” you say softly. “Appa has to be away for work, but he loves you very much.”

Mumbling again, “But it’s not the same when he’s not here. I miss him mmh…..” she complains shifting again on your lap. you sigh, understanding the pain in your daughter’s voice. 

You know too well the sacrifices involved and the strain it places on your family. “I miss him too,”you admit, talking to her as you gently rub yeorum’s back. “But we’re so proud of him, and he’s working hard to provide for us. It’s just for a little while longer. So can you talk to him?” Jay watches through his phone as your daughter finally sits still on your lap, “That’s my girl, appa apologizes for making my little princess this sad.”

“I wish you could be here right now” yeorum says as she overdramatically lets out an exhale, Jay gives a reassuring smile. “Me too. But I am thinking of us every moment. And when i get back, we’ll have all the time we want together.”

With her lips curved up to a smile, your daughter looks convinced now “Will you do anything i want when your back here?” She asks as your husband raises his eyebrow and chuckles softly, trying to predict the little one’s answer “Yes honey, tell me anything you want or want to do. Now, what does my baby want?” 

“You’ll play princess-princess with me!”

jay thinks, about the time when yeorum watched her first ever disney princess film, where her eyes first caught the glammed up looks and the pretty dresses, she wanted to recreate it on her dad. Well, she actually wanted to do it on you but then she claimed, ‘eomma s’already a princess’ 

Jay sat on the floor of the living room, smiling as yeorum carefully applies makeup to his face. She’s holding a small brush with great concentration, her tongue poking out in focus as she sweeps bright eyeshadow across his eyelids.

“close your eyes, appa!” she says with a giggle. He obliges, chuckling softly. She hums a little tune while she works, drawing thick lines around his eyes and then reaching for the lipstick. 

“You look just like a princess!” She says passing the mini pink hand mirror to her now pretty appa.

Just as he’s about to comment on his new look, his phone buzzes on the table. He picks it up and his expression shifts from amused to concerned. “Oh, man. I’ll be there in 10 minutes don’t worry”

Yeorum looks up at him with wide eyes, her signature disappointed pout evident on her face. “Appa, you have to see how pretty you look first!” she insists, holding up a small handheld mirror.

He glances at his reflection and stifles a laugh. “Wow, I look… amazing, baby.” But there’s no time to fully appreciate her artistry. He rushes to the bathroom to wash it off, only to find that the eyeliner and lipstick won’t budge. His heart sinks as he scrubs harder, but the marks remain stubbornly in place. Walking past the washroom, a distressed jay catching your attention. You walk over keeping a hand on his shoulder as he flinches, “Oh my god.. is it not coming off?” You say slowly getting worried and tensed yourself. 

“Yeorum-ah” you call out, trying to keep your voice calm, “what did you use to do appa’s makeup?”

She proudly holds up a set of colorful markers. “These! They were in your drawer!”He groans inwardly as he realizes she’s used permanent markers. His meeting is in ten minutes, and there’s no way to get it off in time. Double fuck.

“Shit. What do we do jay?” You say, trying to rub the eyeliner of his face. With no other option, he throws on a hat and large sunglasses, hoping they’ll hide most of it. As he heads out the door, kissing you and yeorum goodbye. She waves cheerfully. “Good luck appa! You look so fancy!”

He forces a smile, knowing this is going to be an interesting day at work.

You could say, to this day you’re grateful that she didn’t glam you up. 

It finally lift yeorum’s mood up after jay promised her he would once again, play the game with her. Now deep asleep in her room, your and your husband’s laugther echoes as you reminisced about that day. This time you’ll make sure to hide all the permanent markers from the drawer. 

As your giggles go quiet, suddenly feeling shy as jay looks at you through the screen with those lovestruck eyes. “Hi” you say, voice sweet and soft. “Hi” jay says as he brings the phone closer to his face, eyes shifting between you and the camera every then and now.

“You look beautiful, did i tell you that yet?” He adds, As the words left his lips, you felt a warm blush creeping up your cheeks. Your smile widened, almost uncontrollably, and you glanced down, biting your lower lip to suppress the giggle bubbling up inside of you.

He caught the change in your demeanor and chuckled, his voice low and full of affection. “What? Did I say something wrong?” he teased, leaning a little closer to the camera, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“yeah i heard that a couple of times today” He grinned, unable to contain his own laughter now, the sound of it mixing with yours in a harmonious, joyous melody. You both knew that the words you shared were simple, but it was the way he said it, the way you looked at each other, that made you feel like teenagers in love.

You tilt your head “It’s hard convincing her you know..” you start, “when i feel the same, lonely without you.” you start to smile a little as jay raises his eyebrows and smiles back at you “I know, no wonder where she got this trait from.” he jokes as red tint appears on your cheeks, “But i know, i love you and i miss you every single moment honey.” He says, bringing his camera close to his lips as he kisses it. 

Back in the cockpit, jay adjusts his headset and catches a glimpse of his family photo pinned near his control panel. He takes a deep breath, a mix of longing and determination in his eyes. He knows his absence is hard on them, but he holds onto the thought of their reunion, using it as motivation to get through the flight.

all do not copy or repost — @/jaysng

SWEET LATTE

PAIRING non idols yang jungwon x fem reader

WARNINGS none

GENRE fluff

SYNOPSIS you and jungwon decide to get a cat. and he loves it more than he’d admit.

despite the two of you being incredibly allergic, you somehow managed to convince jungwon to let you get a cat, since maeum has been with his parents.

so you did. you brought it home. but now you were clueless on what to do, since you both were dog people.

“is it.. dead?” he asked, gently poking the chubby kitten.

“no wonnie, it’s not dead! he’s just sleeping!” you swatted his hand away before scooping up the kitty and holding it in your arms.

as soon as your new pet felt it being lifted off the surface, he immediately woke up, snuggling closer into your grasp. holding the cat out to your boyfriend, he hesitated to pet it, you literally had to bring his hand up for him.

but as soon as jungwon made contact with the cat, “achoo!” he sneezed out loud.

“this was a terrible idea.” he sniffled, wiping his nose with a tissue.

“well you’re gonna have to watch him when i go to the office in.. an hour.” you informed, checking your phone for the time.

“what? you’re working today? i can’t take care of it alone!”

you shrugged in response, before turning back to the kitty in your arms. “you’re so cute!” you cooed. “i’m gonna name you latte!” and immediately, you continuously pecked the top of latte’s head as he purred.

“latte? really? that’s so basic.” jungwon grimaced as he looked at the little beige cat. it was a scottish fold with white spots. “i know it’s basic, but i can’t resist! he’s just the sweetest thing ever.”

“am i no longer your favorite sweet thing?” he joked, playfully pouting as you placed latte in his arms.

“the sweetest,” you gave him a long kiss on the lips before pulling away. “so don’t be like that. i’m gonna go get ready now.” you smiled.

“what am i gonna do with you?” jungwon sighed, staring at latte as he crawled across the couch when they finally sat back down.

by the time you came home, you absolutely were not expecting the sight in front of you. hurrying to take a warm shower, you wrapped your hair in a towel before going to sit next to jungwon in the living room.

you laughed as your boyfriend dangled his keys above latte’s head, the cat reaching out it’s paws tirelessly.

you leaned into jungwon, laying your head on his shoulder as he continued to play with your new child.

“oh jungwon..” you gasped, using your hand to turn his head so he could face you. you examined his red face, his eyes puffy from his allergies.

“it’ll go away later. i took medicine.”

“guess you love him don’t you?” “of course.” he sighed.

“and latte is just so sweet isn’t he?”

“the sweetest.”

“i think he has your eyes.” you point out, comparing the two as you often switched your gaze. “he’s like our little baby.”

“you’re saying i’m a cat?” jungwon raised a brow.

“maybe. i’m also saying our future daughter would look a lot like you.” you shrugged.

“what?” his eyes widened, fully turning to you in shock, “you’d really be willing to start a family with me?”

“of course. i mean, not too soon obviously, we’re only 20. but in the future, i think we’d make really good parents.” you smiled.

jungwon’s heart swelled, and his face ran hot (not just as an allergic reaction).

“my heart is so full right now.” he sighed, taking one hand off the cat to hug your waist as you wrapped your arms around his bicep.

“you’d be a great mother, and a gorgeous wife. also, i totally think we’re gonna have a son.” he whispered.

“daughter.” “son.”

“if we have a son, we should name him-” “i am not naming my son after the cat.” jungwon mumbled.

“whatever.” you grumbled.

“anyway. i can’t believe we got to talk about all this because of a cat. i guess they really are lucky.” he chuckled, leaning further into you as you held him tighter.

“guess that makes you my lucky charm then, doesn’t it?”

“guess so..” jungwon licked his lips, before leaning his head down to kiss you softly.

enjoy this fic? read similar works here!

This is the most horrific thing recorded. Only God can give them the most suitable punishment that even death cant do justice to

ABOLISH ISRAEL. ABOLISH THE FUCKING DEMONS.

Hay my friend 🍉

I am trying to evacuate my family from Gaza to safe area to save our lives ASAP 🤲🍉

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Heaven Couldn't Wait For You

「pairings」 : ot7 enha x fem!reader 「word count」 : 2.6k (300-400 ea. member)

「synopsis」 : the enhypen members as "I still..." prompts after you've passed away.

「genre」 : angst, angst, and more angst

「warnings」 : mentions of death, slight cussing, mentions of mental health (break downs, depression, guilt, etc...), crying... lots and lots of crying, alcohol consumption, kissing in some, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : I would like to give my deepest and sincerest apologies bc I have absolutely no clue why I have decided to do this to myself much less you guys :') I already know I'm gonna have a few oomfs yelling at me in the gcs.... I hope y'all enjoy this nonetheless!

HEESEUNG ━

I still listen to your old voice messages because I’m scared I’ll forget the sound of your voice

"Hi baby, I'm sure you're busy with work, but I just wanted to let you know that I got off early and was going to pick up dinner. So just let me know if there's anything you'd like! I love you!"

Heeseung sat in his desk chair, staring blankly at the wall. The sound of your voice is the only sound in the room. Tears stained his pale cheeks, having done cried all of the tears he could and was now just left with a numbing feeling.

The clicking sound of the voicemail end caused him to tear his eyes away from the blank wall and click on the one right below it. Leaning back in the chair, he listened to your voice once more, his heart breaking even more, knowing he wouldn't ever be able to hear it again.

"Happy birthday, my love! I'm sorry I couldn't be there in person to celebrate with you, but I'll be home tonight, so just wait for me, ya? I have to go; I love you so much, Heeseung."

His jaw clenched, trying to keep the tears that were pulling in his at bay, but he failed as soon as the room fell silent. An emptiness filled the room, the weight of it all crushing Heeseung's soul.

A knock at the door caused the tall male to whip around, wiping his face of any stray tears. Jay cracked open the door, peeking his head in, worried about his roommate.

A sigh broke through his lips at Heeseung's disheveled appearance. Pushing the door open further, he stood in the doorway, taking in the state of his room. It was clean—maybe a little too clean. Then he noticed the phone propped up on his desk.

"It's been six months Hee, you're just hurting yourself." Jay hated seeing his best friend like this, so broken, so numb, so lost.

Heeseung sniffed, wiping his nose and meeting Jay's eyes, "I know, but I'm scared I'll forget what her voice sounds like."

JONGSEONG ━

I still smell the traces of you everywhere; my bed sheets, my pillowcases, our hoodie

Jay sat in the middle of his bed; the only source of light that filled the room was from the TV that was playing a random show. Tears silently flowed from his chocolate orbs as he held the fabric of your hoodie in his hands. The sweet smell of your perfume was still present in the fabric, only causing more tears to flow from his eyes, his longing growing tenfold.

His appearance was a mess, just like his room. The once neat and tight space was nowhere near as organized as it once was. Clothes were thrown about the floor, used cups sat on his nightstand, and half-eaten meals lay in the trash can.

It had only been a few days since your funeral, but with each passing day without you felt like a stab to his heart. That pain only grew more when he found his favorite hoodie stuffed at the top of the closet, the scent of your perfume washing over him as soon as he held it in his hands.

“Why did you have to leave me?” He sobbed into the fabric as he brought it to his face, laying down in the very bed that the two of you had shared for years. Your scent surrounds him because even months after you have left, everything around him still smells so much like you. Reminding him once more that you were gone.

Before too long, Jay’s cries died down, exhaustion finally taking over his body from not sleeping for so long. His eyes closed tightly, eyelashes decorated with teardrops, and his lips parted slightly as he breathed softly. His face was buried in the fabric of his pillowcase, the lingering scent of your shampoo is the only thing that let him sleep peacefully. However, the hoodie that was sitting in his hands was clenched tightly to his chest, a fear that he would wake up and it wouldn’t be there pooling in his gut. The last thing he wanted was for your scent to disappear from the article of clothing, scared that maybe one day he’d forget your scent entirely.

JAEYUN ━

I still text your number even though I know you won’t ever respond

Jake sat around the table with all of his friends, drinking yet another beer. He had a wide smile on his face as everyone congratulated him once more. He had just gotten a huge promotion at work and aced a big test at school. It felt as if everything was going good for once in over a year.

Many drinks later, Jake was singing along with Sunghoon. Everyone watched with a smile, even if they weren’t singing the words correctly. Then, just like that, he remembered you, forgetting that he hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you about all of the good news that he had received.

Sitting back down in his seat with an excited smile, he grabbed his phone, opened the device, and went straight to your contact. He didn’t pay any mind to the multiple unanswered messages from many, many other times. He typed up a message, not caring to double-check for any grammar or spelling mistakes. After all, you wouldn’t mind. You never did.

Heeseung stopped mid-drink once he noticed Jake’s actions, his smile dropping slightly, already knowing what the boy was doing. Jay and Sunoo weren’t too far behind him, a pitiful look crossing both of their faces.

Noticing how quiet it went, Jake looked up from the device in his hand after hitting send. His smile dropped once he saw the looks of pity that he was getting, his heart lurching as his facade was slowly starting to crumble.

“I know she’s not going to answer, but–” he hiccuped, tears starting to brim in his eyes, “but she deserves to know.” His bottom lip trembled slightly as he looked down at his phone, his lock screen showing. A picture of you and him on the very last date the two of you went on.

“She’s proud of you, man,” Heeseung said with a sad smile to the brunette, who nodded softly, wiping his face clear of the tears that had broken free.

He knew that you were watching over him, knew that even from far away, you were still cheering him on. That’s what he used as motivation to continue in life, wanting nothing more than to make you proud.

SUNGHOON ━

I still go to our favorite spot whenever I’m missing you because I feel like you’re there with me

Sunghoon sat on the damp grass, not caring at all that his jeans were soaking wet. His hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, and he looked out at the stars shining over the silent city. The crisp winter air turned his cheeks and the tip of his nose a rosy shade of red. Each puff of air outlined the night, barely illuminated by the moonlight.

He closed his eyes, soaking in the sounds of the crickets around him, the sound bringing him a sense of calmness. Just then, a gust of cool air washed over his body, making him shiver. Curling his knees closer to his chest to try and save some body heat, he shivered.

“I know you’re probably scolding me for not bringing a coat.” He chuckled softly, tilting his head up to gaze upon the moon once more. His fingers started to grow numb, even in the protection of his pockets. He tried to smile, not wanting you to see him upset, but the memories of the dates that the two of you shared flashed in his mind, and tears welled up in his eyes. “I miss you so much.” His voice shook, fingers curling up into a fist.

Another gust of wind blew over him, except this time, it felt warmer. A feeling that diminished the barrier that held his tears. Soft sobs racked through his body as he buried his face in his knees at the thought of you possibly being there with him, telling him that it was going to be okay.

“It’s been a year, and it still hurts so much,” he cried out, pulling his tear-stained face from his knees to look up at the sky once more, his eyes finding the brightest star in the sky. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you, my love.”

Pain shot through every fiber of his body as he sat on the damp grass, wishing that you were with him. Watching you point out all of the constellations that you could see in the night sky, laughing whenever he would make up a random name for a shape he made.

It had been a year without you, but yet it felt like just yesterday that he had lost you.

SUNOO ━

I still have all of the little notes you used to write to me in my closet

Sunoo wiped the tears from his face once more as he pulled the lid off of the cutely decorated box. One that you decorated yourself for him to hold a birthday gift, but Sunoo thought it was far too cute to just throw out afterward. So he kept it and used it as a safekeeping for all of the little notes that you used to write him.

Sniffing softly, he sat the lid off to the side and looked inside, seeing all of the colored papers that lay inside. He contemplated on even reading them, scared that he would break down once again, but his hands seemed to be working faster than his mind. His fingertips brushed over a small blue paper, grabbing it softly before unfolding it. More tears spilled from his bloodshot eyes as he read the words that were written in your pretty handwriting.

‘Every day, I am reminded of how lucky I am to have you in my life.’

Then, just like that, he found himself grabbing the pages piece by piece, reading every note no matter how big or small it was. Even as tears blurred his vision, he still read all of your words, recalling some of the memories that they brought back with them. How you would always try to discreetly hide the note somewhere you knew he would look, always waiting for the smile that would spread on his face whenever he would read it before walking over to you, kissing you sweetly as thanks, but now he could only hope that you hear his thanks as he read them over and over.

Grabbing another, he felt his heart lurch into his throat, a choked cry pulling from his swollen lips as he read the words written on the pretty pink page.

‘You bring out the best in me, and I will forever be thankful for that.’

He wrapped his fingers softly around the page, scared that he would crumble it entirely as he tilted his head back, tears spilling from the corner of his eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, he opened his mouth, words tumbling out before he could even fully process them.

“You brought out the best in me, too, my love, and I’m so sorry I could not protect you when you needed me.”

JUNGWON ━

I still hear the sounds of you singing in the shower like you were in your own concert

Jungwon sat on the floor of the shower, the now cold water washing over his body as he hugged his knees to his chest. The soft sounds of your favorite playlist playing through the speakers of his phone that sat on the ground right outside of the shower.

Tears spilled from his eyes, blending with the water that washed over his head, dripping from the ends of his hair. His clothes, which were still on his body, were now completely soaked through, clinging to his body. He was sure that he would fall sick after sitting under the cool water for so long, but he couldn’t find it in himself to get up. The chill of the water behind was the only thing to numb the pain that coursed through his veins.

The memories of him sitting on the counter while you were in the shower, just singing your heart out as if no one in the world could hear you. Your voice was sweet like honey, always pulling a smile to his face any time he heard you from the bedroom. He recalled all of the times that he told you that you could become a singer with vocals like that, but you always told him that you were far too shy to even think about trying to go down that path.

“It’s okay, I’m the only audience you need anyways.” He would always tell you, wrapping his arms around your body and peppering your face with kisses until you both fell into a fit of giggles.

Just then, a song played that made his whole body tense, the very first song that the two of you bonded over. The very song that you had proclaimed to be your guys' couple song. The very song that Jungwon told himself that he would never listen to again after hearing it at your funeral.

Sobs racked his body as a string of apologies fell from his lips, his nails digging into his calf, trying to ground himself. He listened to the song, remembering your sweet voice singing it so loudly until, eventually, the playlist stopped, and he had to pull his frigid body from the shower floor.

NI-KI ━

I still remember all of our late-night talks when we’d make plans for our future

Riki sat on the ground in front of his bed, a notebook sitting idly in his hands as he fought the urge to cry. Reading the words that were written on the pages made his heart hurt, but seeing that it was your handwriting completely shattered his soul.

He read all of your thoughts and notes that you were sure that no one else would see, as well as the little doodles that decorated the edges. Your mother had just given him the notebook, telling him that you wanted him to have it if anything were to happen. As if you knew that you weren’t going to be in the world for much longer.

Tears started to silently stream down his cheeks as he turned the page reading the words, the words expressing how much you love sitting with him late at night, talking about your lives. Planning your future together. He hated that you wouldn’t be able to do that anymore, nor would he ever get the chance to live out those plans that the two of you had made.

“You’re such a liar.” He choked out between sobs as he read all of your words that were scribbled on the page, tears blurring the letters, melting them all together as he cried. Sorrow and longing coursed through his veins because as much as he wanted to be angry at you for leaving him, he just couldn’t.

Tears dropped down from his lashes to wet the pages, smudging the ink under his fingers when he tried to wipe it away. His heart shattered even further the more he read, knowing that you had so many things that you wanted to try, so many places that you wanted to go, and so many people that you wanted to meet. All of these things you wanted to do with him.

Just as he was about to close the book, bile creeping up the lining of his throat as the reality of you not coming back settled in his mind. But then he saw something on one last page, words causing a choked sob to tear from his lungs, fingers gripping the edges of the paper so tight that it was a miracle that it didn’t rip.

‘To my beloved Riki, promise me that if I one day have to leave this earth that you still follow our plans. I love you, and I’m sorry I can’t be there with you as you continue your journey in life.’

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

YOU TRY TO ESCAPE 𖹭 엔하이픈 ( reaction ) !

genre yandere 𖹭 warning mentions of murder and tying up , jake is crazy , sunghoon needs help and heeseung and jay are maniacs — parings enhypen hyungline x fem reader | back to library .

request. hii girlie could you do yandere enhypen when you try to escape it can be hyung line or ot7!

— enhypens reaction when you try and escape.

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i hope you like it.

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

normally heeseung ties you up before he goes to bed , but this night he was too tired and he crashed right on the bed , leaving you both awake and unbound — so you took your chances , slowly moving his hand from your waist , climbing off the bed; tip toeing towards the door. "stupid stupid girl." you heard your boyfriend say. "you think just because i didn't tie you up i didn't set precautions for this?" he slowly climbed out of bed. "open the door , try it." he smiled. "fucking open it." you opened the door, only for an alarm to go off. "close it." he said , you tearfully closed it. "now get back into bed." he said and you listened , climbing back into bed. "I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt." he pulled out the handcuffs.

"but you clearly can't be trusted."

﹙ 𐙚 : jay ﹚ .ᐟ

jay would let you leave , it's not like you can get far with the tracker he put those pretty little earrings you were to stupid and high on adrenaline to take off , he knows where you are— so when you come to a sudden stop at a bus station , he smirks before telling his guys to get the car ready. you sat waiting for the next bus out of town and away from jay , you were finally free. "oh princess." you felt someone sitting next to you , your body freezing in fear as you felt his hand on your knee. "h-how did you find me?" he smiled , but you could see the anger in his eyes. "those really expensive earrings that you're wearing, pretty baby those are trackers." you tried to get up , but squeezed your thighs. "i have two men at the ready in case you run , so you don't have a choice." he said as a car pulled up.

"you really don't have a choice , get in the fucking car."

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

the thing with jake is , he's crazy in love with a big emphasis on crazy; once he met you , his life had no meaning, he didn't live for himself , he lived for you — but jake also wasn't willing to let you leave , no he loved you too much , he'd kill you before he'd ever let you walk away from him , and if you weren't there then he'd had nothing to live for. "where are you going?" your heart dropped hearing your boyfriends voice , you turned around to where he stood , teary eyed , holding a knife in his hand. "you're leaving me aren't , you were gonna leave me." he was sobbing now. "jaeyun— no!" he shouted. "i won't let you go." he walked closer with the knife. "jake calm down." you said. "i can't let you go , but i can't live without you." he said. "let's calm down jake."

"i'll kill us both , let's die together huh? i can't let you go."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon ﹚ .ᐟ

he knew you were bluffing; he knows you'll be right back where you started , you have no money , no friends , no family; he's all you have and you know it. "you want to leave?" he smiled , but it wasn't a humorous laugh. "go." he said pointing to the door. "the doors right there." he shrugged. "answer me this one question , where are you going?" he asked. "how are you gonna get there?" you stammered over your words. "that's right , you have no one , you cut them off because of me." he said. "dumb move." he said. "so walk out that door , do it." he said.

"and see who really loves you."

©️LUVYENI