mrsparkjimin18

[mrsparkjimin18]

SAME 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

CRYINF SOBBING THROWING UP MY SEVENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[mrsparkjimin18]

Part 2: Embers of Midnight

Early in the morning, you sit across the table from Hoseok, your fingers curling loosely around your coffee mug. Over the last few weeks, this ritual has become almost second nature. The steam rises in lazy spirals, a fleeting illusion of normalcy, but you know better.

This day is anything but normal.

Hoseok studies you from across the table, his dark eyes steady and searching. You feel the weight of his gaze, as if he’s probing for any hint of doubt, though you’re determined not to give him any this time.

“You’re sure?” he asks, his voice quieter and deeper than usual, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace surrounding you. “Once we start, there’s no going back.”

You meet his gaze without flinching. “I’m sure.” Your voice is firmer than you expected, but it feels right. After everything – him, you, the angel – it’s the only certainty you have left.

A flicker of something crosses his face, a brief softening of the lines around his mouth. It’s not quite a smile but close enough, an expression that makes him look startlingly human. He tips his head back, finishing his coffee in a single swallow before setting the mug down with a decisive clink.

“Then let’s go.”

The library looks nothing like you remember.

As a child, it was a wonderland of towering shelves, sunlit corners, and the comforting smell of old books. But now, it’s as if time itself has turned against the place. The bricks crumble like brittle parchment, vines snake through shattered windows, and the faded sign above the door hangs crookedly, its painted letters barely legible.

The air feels unnaturally still, swallowing every sound. You hesitate, glancing at Hoseok standing beside you.

“This…I know this place,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

His gaze flickers toward you, unreadable. “It’s where you’re starting.”

“Starting?” 

Hoseok doesn’t reply, pushing the door open instead. It groans in protest, and you brace yourself for the sight of a ruined interior – rubble, dust, collapsed ceilings – but what greets you instead is something alive.

The walls ripple faintly, as though they’re breathing, the rhythm syncing with something deep in your chest. Shelves stretch into impossible spirals and arches, glowing softly with a golden light. Some hover in midair, defying gravity, while others twist upward into a darkness that shouldn’t exist. The air smells like parchment, leather, and something faintly metallic.

“It’s alive,” you whisper, almost afraid to disturb the surreal stillness.

“It’s the other side,” Hoseok answers, stepping forward with the ease of someone who belongs here. “You’ll get used to it.”

“You call this ‘starting simple’?” You try for sarcasm, but your awe betrays you.

Hoseok finally turns to face you, his expression serious. “Compared to what comes next? It is.”

You move closer to him, avoiding the edge of a floating staircase that definitely wasn’t there seconds ago. “Why can I see this? Be here? I’ve never-”

“You’re with me.” Hoseok says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m your guide on this journey to find the relic.”

“But I’ve never-”

“You’re not ordinary anymore.” The weight of his words settles over you. “Whatever you were before, you’re not just that now. The more time you spend with me, the thinner the veil gets. You’re seeing what’s been here all along.”

You stare at him, trying to process the impossible. “This…has always been here?”

“Yes. To humans, it’s just a ruin. A forgotten building.” Hoseok gestures toward the golden light that streams down like sunlight. “To us, it’s a place of knowledge and power.”

You glance around again, taking it all in, and the beauty of it terrifies you.

“And my parents…they used to bring me here.”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything, but his silence feels heavy, suggesting he knows more than he’s letting on.

You follow him through a labyrinth of spiraling shelves, the golden light dimming with every step. What was once wondrous now feels ominous, as though the air itself has shifted – waiting for something.

“What are we looking for?” you ask, your voice hushed.

“A book.” Hoseok’s answer is clipped, his focus razor-sharp.

“A book?” You glance at the endless shelves. “In here? That’s like finding a needle in—”

“It’s not endless,” he interrupts, his tone calm but firm. “It’s…selective.”

That doesn’t make you feel any better.

He stops in front of an unremarkable shelf – dusty, untouched, and bathed in shadow. As you step closer, you realize the shelf doesn’t quite belong here. It’s carved from a darker wood, and the titles on the spines seem to shift the longer you stare at them.

“There,” he says softly, pointing to a crimson book nestled in the shadows. Its gold lettering writhes like it’s alive.

Instinctively, you reach for it, but Hoseok catches your wrist. His touch is firm but gentle.

“It’s not that simple,” he warns.

You glance at him, frowning. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok looks at the shelf like it can hear you, sense you, even reach out and grab you. “This part of the library doesn’t just hand over what you’re looking for. It demands something in return.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs one shoulder, unnervingly casual. “Proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“That you’re worthy of it.”

Before you can protest, the air changes. It feels thicker, pressing against your skin like unseen hands. The shadows around the shelf darken, and the book begins to glow faintly, almost beckoning you. Your heart begins to hammer in your chest.

“Don’t overthink it,” Hoseok says softly. “Just…walk forward.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as you take a step closer. “And if I’m not?”

He hesitates. “It’ll know.”

“That’s not ominous at all,” you mutter, but you take a deep breath and step forward anyway.

The shadows shift as you approach, pooling at your feet like liquid ink. The shelf seems to stretch taller, the book retreating farther out of reach.

You hear whispers – soft, insidious, like a thousand voices speaking at once. They know you. They know your fears, your doubts, the memories you try to bury.

You’re not strong enough.

You’ll fail.

Why do you think he chose you?

Your steps falter and the voices coil around you like smoke, tugging at every insecurity you’ve ever had. Behind you, Hoseok is silent, watching, waiting. You want to turn back, but something stops you.

If you stop now, you’ll never know.

You take another step.

The whispers grow louder, sharper, until one voice cuts through the chaos.

“Why do you keep going?”

You stop, chest heaving, fists clenched at your sides. “Because I have to.”

“Why?”

You swallow hard. “Because…I’m tired of feeling lost.”

The words hang in the air, raw and honest. The shadows pause, almost as if considering your answer.

The darkness begins to recede, pulling away like a tide. The shelf shrinks back to its normal size, and the crimson book falls from its place, landing softly at your feet. The whispers fade, leaving only silence.

You crouch and pick up the book, the leather cover warm under your fingers. The gold lettering solidifies into a title you can’t quite read, but it feels important – like it’s been waiting for you.

You turn back to Hoseok, holding the book up triumphantly. “That wasn’t so bad.”

His lips curl into a victorious smile, but when he reaches out to take the book, it doesn’t budge.

Hoseok frowns and tries again, still, the book doesn’t move.

“What the hell?” He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “It’s bound to you.”

“Bound to me?”

“It chose you,” he says quietly. “And only you.”

The depth of his words bites into you like teeth, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. You clutch the book tighter, suddenly aware that whatever just happened, it wasn’t normal – even for this place.

“What does that mean?” you ask finally.

Hoseok’s gaze lingers on you, dark and knowing. “It means you’re more important than you realize.”

The warmth of your fireplace wraps around you, the cryptic book resting heavily on the table before you, and it calls to you without making a sound. The room is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the flames, and the contrast to the eerie chill of the library you’ve just left is almost jarring. Your fingers hover over the book’s cover, taking in the intricate swirls of gold and silver symbols that seem to pulse faintly in the dim light. It doesn’t feel like any book you’ve ever touched. It feels alive. Watching.

“You’re staring at it like it’s about to bite,” Hoseok says, his voice pulling your attention. He’s lounging in the chair across from you, his casual posture doing little to mask the sharpness in his eyes as he watches you.

“Maybe it will,” you mutter, glancing at him. “You’re the one who said this thing could only be taken by me. What if it’s cursed?”

His lips quirk into a half-smile. “If it were cursed, you’d already know. Besides, the library wouldn’t have let it leave unless it wanted to be with you.”

The words don’t comfort you as much as he might think. You swallow, steel yourself, and place your palm against the cover. It’s warmer than when you first held it at the library, the surface almost yielding beneath your touch. The book shudders faintly, and the symbols light up, rearranging themselves in a fluid dance of gold and silver. Slowly the cover creaks open, revealing pages that shift and shimmer like silk caught in a breeze, tantalizing your curiosity.

Hoseok leans forward, curiosity etched into his features. “What does it say?”

Your eyes scan the shifting ink on the pages, a mix of apprehension and awe tightening in your chest. At first, the symbols twist and turn, unrecognizable, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake in opening the book. But as you focus, the chaotic shapes begin to settle, forming words that spark an eerie familiarity deep within you. 

A chill creeps down your spine, but determination takes root, outweighing the fear. This is your path now, for better or worse. But as you focus, they settle into words – words you somehow understand. You read aloud, your voice steady despite the odd familiarity of the text. “‘The path forward lies in the ruins of light. Where the heavens fell, shadows bloom. Seek the mark of the forsaken…there lies the second key.’”

You glance up at Hoseok, a frown tugging at your lips. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “Ruins of light…it’s probably referring to the celestial ruins. An old battlefield where angels fell during the war.”

The mention of a battlefield sends a chill down your spine. “Why would the next key be in a place like that?”

“Because the relic doesn’t desire convenience or comfort,” he says simply, his tone grave. “It thrives in chaos. It was created to bridge light and darkness. The places it left its marks… they’re not places of peace.”

You close the book, your hand lingering on the cover. Its warmth now feels strangely reassuring, as if it’s recognizing you in some way. “So, we’re going to a battlefield next?”

He nods, standing from his chair with fluid grace. “You’ll need to be ready. The library was only the beginning. What lies ahead will demand more of you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, a smirk tugging at your lips despite the tension. "You really think I’m ready for this?"

Hoseok smirks, that faint glimmer of amusement returning to his eyes. “After seeing you emerge victorious from the library…absolutely.”

The room settles into a comfortable quiet after Hoseok’s teasing remark, but your thoughts remain restless. The weight of the moment, the discovery of the book, and the realization that it all hinges on you feels heavier than ever. You sink into the chair by the table, cradling your head in your hands.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Why does it have to be me? I thought I was ready, but after the library…I almost ran away. What if I’m not as ready as I thought I was?”

Hoseok’s expression softens, his usual sharpness melting into something warmer. He steps closer, crouching so he’s at eye level with you. “Angel, look at me.” His voice is low, steady, and for a moment, the storm of doubt in your chest calms.

You lift your gaze, meeting his. “The other night, I felt ready. Something inside of me was… released. Now, I’m doubting whether I belong in this world you’ve dragged me into.”

He reaches out, gently taking your hands in his. His touch is firm yet soothing, grounding you. “You think I would’ve come to you if you weren’t meant for this? You’re stronger than you realize. And you’re not doing this alone…I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, a subtle gesture that feels intimate, comforting. The tension in your shoulders eases just a fraction, but not enough. He notices, of course he does, and a faint smile touches his lips.

“Follow me,” he says softly.

The warmth of Hoseok’s hand in yours grounds you as he leads you down the hallway of your own home, each step heavy with unspoken questions. Doubt claws at the edges of your thoughts, whispering warnings about the dangers of trust and vulnerability. Yet, with every glance back he offers – a flicker of reassurance in his dark, steady gaze – you feel a fragile thread of resolve winding tighter within you. You grip his hand just a little firmer, clinging to the promise of safety his presence silently conveys. You don’t question where you’re going – the quiet intensity in his gaze as he glanced back over his shoulder left no room for doubt. But when the door to your bathroom opens, you halt mid-step.

This isn’t your bathroom.

The walls are adorned with intricate mosaic tiles that shimmer like a kaleidoscope, catching the light of dozens of candles placed artfully around the room. Pools of wax create abstract designs, as if painted by time. In the center, a sunken bath rests, steam curling from its surface. Lily pads and lotus flowers float on the water, their petals glowing faintly, dancing and swaying like artistic swimmers. The air is thick with the soothing aroma of lavender and vanilla, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace.

“Hoseok,” you start, your voice trembling with confusion. “Where…how…”

He steps closer, his hands settling gently on your shoulders. His gaze is soft, reassuring, but behind his calm exterior, there’s an intensity that sets your pulse racing.

“You’re safe,” he says simply, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This is my realm. My home.”

The words send a shiver down your spine. Your mind reels, questions tumbling over one another, but before you can voice them, he leans closer, his forehead resting against yours. “Trust me,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “Just this once, let me take care of you.”

For a moment, you waver. Doubt whispers in your mind, reminding you of the risks, the uncertainty of surrendering to someone you barely understand. The weight of everything you’ve seen – what you’ve learned – tightens in your chest, making it hard to breathe. But then, there’s Hoseok. His eyes hold no deceit, only a quiet resolve that pulls at something deep within you.

“What if I can’t?” you whisper, the question slipping out unbidden. "What if trusting you is a mistake?"

His expression softens, and he steps closer, his hands cupping your face with such tenderness it silences the storm in your mind. "Then let it be a mistake," he says, his voice low and steady. "But it’ll be ours to make together. You’re not alone in this, Angel. You never have to be."

The sincerity in his words disarms you, and despite the hesitation lingering at the edges of your heart, you find yourself nodding. It’s not blind trust – it’s a choice to believe in something beyond fear. To believe in him.

You hesitate, the weight of his words pressing against your uncertainty, but then you nod, the depth of his gaze anchoring you.

He guides you toward the bath and begins to undress you, his movements slow and deliberate. “You just need to relax,” he murmurs, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves. “Today was difficult, so let me help you unwind.”

You don’t respond. Whether it’s the surreal transformation of the room or the calming effect of his presence, words fail you. You let him guide you, his touch careful and respectful as he peels away the tension with every article of clothing.

Once undressed, he takes your hand and helps you step into the bath. The moment your skin touches the water, a sigh escapes you. It’s unlike any sensation you’ve ever felt – warm and soothing, yet invigorating, as though the water itself recognizes you.

Hoseok begins undressing with the same unhurried precision. When his body is revealed, your breath catches. Every inch of him is proportional, powerful, and undeniably beautiful. Your body hums at the sight, a reaction he seems to sense as his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

Hoseok kneels at the edge of the tub, his hands gliding over your shoulders and down your arms, the touch both calming and electrifying. As he leans in, his lips brush the curve of your neck, soft and teasing.

“You’re so tense,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sends heat pooling in your core.

He slips into the water behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. The feel of his bare chest against your back steals your breath, the solid warmth of him a stark contrast to the liquid softness surrounding you.

“Let me help you let go,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear, his words both soothing and provocative, a gentle coaxing that matches the rhythm of his hands on your skin.

The teasing brushes of his lips along your neck and shoulder make your pulse race, and yet his movements remain unhurried, deliberate. His hands slide down your sides, his thumbs tracing the curve of your hips before slipping lower, his touch both exploratory and reverent.

When his fingers find you, a gasp escapes your lips. His touch is soft at first, a gentle pressure that has you arching into him, craving more. He doesn’t rush, taking his time to learn every reaction, every shiver and sigh.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his tone laced with admiration as though the sight of you undoes him. “So beautiful, so perfect.”

The words make your chest tighten, but before doubt can creep in, his fingers press more firmly, drawing a moan from your lips.

“Don’t hold back,” he says, his voice low and rough now, a plea wrapped in a command. His breath tickles your ear as he adds, “I want all of you.”

He turns you in the water, his hands guiding your thighs to straddle him. The look in his eyes causes your heart to palpitate and skip beats – a mix of hunger and tenderness, as though he’s been starving for this moment but refuses to let it slip by without savoring every second.

When he enters you, it’s slow, calculated, and so intimate that tears prick at the corners of your eyes. The stretch is almost too much, the sensation overwhelming, but his hands grip your hips, grounding you, encouraging you.

“You can take it,” he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint. “You’re mine, Angel. You were made for this.”

The words send a shiver through you, and as he begins to move, the world shifts. It’s as though the connection between you unlocks something deep within – a portal to a part of yourself you never knew existed.

Each thrust is deliberate, measured, designed to make you feel every inch of him and every emotion he pours into you. It’s not just physical - it’s transformative - as though he’s unraveling every thread of doubt and fear you’ve ever held and weaving them into something new.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as the pressure builds, your body arching into his as his pace quickens. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he responds with soft groans and whispered encouragement, his hands guiding your movements as though orchestrating a masterpiece.

When the release finally comes, it’s greater than the first time with him. The pleasure is all-consuming, but beneath it is a profound sense of liberation, you truly feel your body release the doubt and free yourself.

Hoseok holds you as you tremble in his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to your hair and forehead. His own breaths are ragged, his body taut with the effort of holding back, but his focus remains on you, his hands soothing over your back.

He presses a lingering kiss to your temple, his voice a soft murmur against your skin. “You’re safe here, Angel. Always.”

When you step out of the bath, Hoseok wraps you in a thick, plush towel, his hands lingering on your shoulders before guiding you out of the bathroom. The cool, earthy scent of the enchanting forest beyond greets you, but it takes a moment for your senses to catch up. This isn’t your home.

A wave of wonder sweeps through you as you take in the expansive open space before you. The polished stone walls and floors glow faintly with an otherworldly warmth, and the ceiling stretches high above, giving the illusion of endless space. In the center of the room stands a magnificent double-sided fireplace, its flames dancing languidly on either side of a glass partition. The crackle of the fire blends harmoniously with the soothing sound of rushing water, and as you follow the sound, your eyes are drawn to the view beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The world outside is breathtaking – a magical forest bathed in the shimmering glow of twilight. A waterfall cascades down the side of a mountain, its mist catching the soft light of an aurora borealis that stretches endlessly across the sky. The colors - vivid greens, purples, and blues - seem to pulse and shift as though alive, and you feel the pull of their beauty deep within your chest. For a moment, the sheer wonder of it all is almost too much. You reach for the grounding presence of Hoseok, your thoughts tumbling in awe and disbelief.

“Where are we?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, caught between astonishment and uncertainty.

“My home,” Hoseok replies, his voice steady and grounding, yet carrying an edge of pride. He steps behind you, his hands settling on your waist. “A realm of my own creation, outside the constraints of your world.”

The enormity of his words settles over you, and you glance at him, a thousand questions swirling in your mind. Who is he, truly, to wield such power, such beauty? Yet the calm conviction in his gaze quiets the storm within you, replacing it with awe.

His fingers trace soft circles against your hip, tethering you to the moment. “Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice soft yet firm, as though the answer holds the weight of worlds.

You nod, the depth of his question mirrored by the calm conviction in his eyes. “I do,” you say, the words carrying a resonance that surprises even you.

He guides you through the space, the warmth of the stone beneath your feet contrasting with the cool air that drifts in through the open windows. The transition from the bath to his world feels seamless, as if this moment was always meant to happen.

Finally, he leads you into his bedroom, and it feels like stepping into a dream. An enormous canopy bed, draped in layers of soft fabric, sits at the center of the room, its carved wooden posts blending seamlessly with the natural lines of the space. The walls, made of smooth stone, seem to hum with quiet energy, and the view beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows is captivating.

The magical forest stretches endlessly, the trees bathed in an ethereal glow as though kissed by moonlight. Above, the sky is a masterpiece of swirling colors, a neverending aurora borealis that casts shimmering hues across the room. In the distance, the sound of the waterfall echoes faintly, a soothing melody that seems to sync with the beat of your heart.

Hoseok steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his voice like a soft caress that mingles with the serenity of the scene.

You nod, unable to tear your gaze away. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Hoseok lifts you effortlessly into his arms, carrying you to the bed as though you weigh nothing. The world around you seems to fade as he lays you down, the mattress cradling you in comfort. He climbs in beside you, his body warm against yours, his hands steady as they explore every curve, every inch of skin.

The intimacy begins again, slow and deliberate. Each touch, each kiss, feels like a silent promise, a confession of everything he’s yet to say aloud. As he moves within you, the connection deepens, the pleasure mingling with a profound sense of belonging.

When the moment reaches its crescendo, it’s as though the universe itself holds its breath, the stars above shining brighter, the aurora pulsing with vibrant intensity.

Afterward, Hoseok pulls you close, his arms encircling you as though he never plans to let go. The sound of the waterfall outside lulls you into a tranquil haze, his quiet words grounding you in a way nothing else ever has.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

And as sleep claims you, you find yourself leaning into his presence, no longer fighting the pull.

The sun hovers low in the sky as Hoseok’s car finally arrives at the edge of the city’s old warehouse district. It is massive, stretching along the riverbank, a labyrinth of decayed buildings and rusting structures that seem to hum with an unnatural energy. The water nearby glistens unnaturally under the fading sunlight, as though it holds secrets far beyond the mundane.

Hoseok stops, scanning the surroundings with a critical eye. “This is it,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

You hesitate. “How can you tell?”

He gestures toward the river. “The celestial realm draws its power from water, and this... this place reeks of it. Feel that hum in the air?”

You nod, suddenly hyper aware of the faint vibration beneath your feet. You swallow hard and step closer to him, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. Each step into the district feels heavier, as though the very air is resisting your intrusion.

Hoseok suddenly comes to a halt before the largest warehouse, its rusted doors barely hanging on their hinges. A faint glow seeps through the cracks, pulsing like a heartbeat. Hoseok pushes the doors open, and the sight inside leaves you speechless.

Inside, the warehouse floor is covered by a vast pool of shimmering water, golden light rippling across its surface. Patterns of celestial geometry reflecting on the walls, creating an ever-shifting tapestry of light and shadow.

Hoseok steps forward cautiously, his movements fluid yet tense. “This is a gateway,” he says, looking back at you. “Once we cross, there’s no telling what we’ll face.”

You nod, clutching the strap of your satchel. Together, you wade into the glowing water. The moment the liquid touches your skin, the world tilts, and the warehouse dissolves in a cascade of brilliant light.

When your vision clears, you find yourself standing in a place that defies logic. Bone-white structures jutting from the ground like the skeletons of ancient giants, their surfaces glowing faintly in the ambient light. The air is thick with the scent of ozone, and beneath your feet, the ground seems to hum with restrained power. Rivers of light flow through deep channels, crisscrossing the landscape in intricate patterns.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, though unease prickles at the back of your mind. The beauty of this place feels hollow, as if the light is concealing something darker.

In the distance, a golden orb floats above a jagged pedestal of stone, its light casting long, twisting shadows. A strange pull begins to gnaw at you, drawing you toward it despite the growing dread pooling in your stomach.

Hoseok reaches out, his fingers brushing your wrist. “Wait,” he says firmly. “This feels... wrong.”

But the orb’s allure is overpowering. As if in a trance, you step closer, the world narrowing to the golden glow before you. The moment your fingers brush the orb, the light explodes outward, swallowing everything in an instant.

When the light fades, you find yourself standing in a familiar place – a dark country road, rain pounding against the windshield of a car. Your heart clenches as you recognize the scene.

“This can’t be real,” you whisper.

Yet every detail is vivid, from the harsh glare of the headlights cutting through the downpour to the frantic voices of your parents in the front seat.

Suddenly, the car screeches to a halt, and brilliant lights surround you, blinding and pure. Figures emerge from the light – angels, their presence chilling you to the bone.

“Your parents defied their purpose,” one of them says, his voice devoid of warmth. “They chose weakness, and now they pay the price.”

You freeze, the words pierce through you like a blade.

“They’re gone because of you,” another says, their glowing eyes locking onto you.

The memory of their deaths floods back, and for a moment, despair threatens to consume you. But then, a spark of defiance ignites within you.

“No,” you declare, your voice trembling but resolute. “My parents fought for me because they loved me. Their strength lives on in me.”

As you speak, a spark ignites within you and a light bursts from your chest, growing brighter and brighter until it shatters the vision completely.

When you awake, you are back in the ruins, but the orb is gone and replaced by a glowing sigil carved into the ground. A group of angels emerge from the light, their forms cold and imposing, surrounding and taunting you.

“You are the daughter of the unworthy,” one growls. “You do not belong here.”

The ground beneath you begins to tremble violently, as if on the verge of collapsing, leaving you with the terrifying image of being swallowed whole by the earth.

"You’ve wandered too far, daughter of the unworthy,” another snarls, his voice dripping with disdain. “You will come with us.”

Hoseok surges forward, tackling one of the angels out of the way just as they move to strike, his body a shield between you and the looming threat.

The angels begin to attack, their divine weapons slicing through the air. Hoseok fights back, his shadows clashing against their light, but the odds quickly turn against him.

Just as an angel lunges toward you, a torrent of crimson flames erupt around you.

The demons burst into the celestial realm like a thunderstorm unleashed, their ferocity shaking the very ground you stand on. They tear through the angels with primal intensity, wings of shadow slicing through radiant light. The air explodes with the clash of forces, sparks of divine and infernal energy illuminating the battlefield. The angels regroup, attempting to hold their ground, but the demons’ sheer power is overwhelming, forcing them to falter. The struggle grows fiercer, a chaotic dance of light and darkness, giving you and Hoseok the precious seconds you need.

“Go!” one of the demons roars, his voice booming above the fray.

Hoseok doesn’t hesitate. His hand wraps around your wrist as he leads you away from the battle, his movements quick and deliberate. The celestial realm trembles as if it too was desperate to trap you. But with one last glance at the chaos unfolding behind you, you follow Hoseok through the thinning veil of light and shadow.

The vibrations of the celestial realm linger even after you are back in the car, the faint hum coursing through the tires as Hoseok speeds down the road. Only when the sensation fades completely does he slow, pulling into a dimly lit truck stop by the side of the highway.

He parks in the farthest corner of the lot, the neon lights of the diner casting strange reflections on the car windows. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of what just happened pressing down on the silence.

Finally, Hoseok exhales, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “That was...close.”

You nod, your voice caught in your throat before you manage to speak. “The angels... they blame me. They call me the daughter of the unworthy.” You look at him, your chest tightening. “What do they mean?”

Hoseok’s jaw clenches. “They’re trying to mess with your head. Angels aren’t as pure as you’ve been led to believe, though not all of them are bad, still the majority are treacherous beings. That’s why they try to break you, to make you question yourself.” His voice softens, a rare vulnerability creeping in. “But you don’t break.”

You stare out the window, the glow of the truck stop lights blurring in your vision. “I don’t understand any of this. The book... my parents... me? Why would the angels want me so badly?”

Hoseok hesitates, as if weighing how much he should reveal. “Because you’re more important than you realize… to both sides.”

Before you can press him further, the sound of an approaching vehicle breaks the silence. You turn to see a sleek black SUV pulling up beside you. Hoseok’s posture shifts immediately, tense but not surprised. The passenger door opens, and a familiar figure emerges – tall and commanding, with molten gold eyes that catch the light like fire.

The demon leans casually against the car door, his sharp smile returning. “You’ve been busy.”

Hoseok crosses his arms, his stance rigid. “What do you want?”

The demon’s smile doesn’t falter, but his tone turns serious. “The magic book is a trap, rigged to lure her into their hands. We follow its essence to her house,” he says, nodding toward you. “When you aren’t there, we think we’ve lost you. But then she calls us.”

You blink in confusion. “I call you?”

The demon’s gaze flickers to you, his amusement returning. “That burst of light back there? Your power. It cuts through the realms like a beacon. It leads us right to you.”

You glance at Hoseok, the unease in your chest growing. “If the book is a trap,” you ask, “how do we find the relic now?”

The demon straightens, folding his arms as he regards you both. “The oracle,” he says simply. “She’s the only one who knows its true location.”

Hoseok’s jaw tightens further, but his voice is calm. “Then we go to her next.”

The demon’s sharp smile widens, his gaze lingering on Hoseok as he steps back. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

As the demon retreats into the night, the air grows still again.

You watch Hoseok’s face, searching for any hint of what he’s feeling, but he remains a fortress of unreadable emotions – at least, that’s how it seems.

“Angel,” he finally breaks the silence, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, “there’s something I need to tell you... I-I just don’t know how.”

When his eyes meet yours, you don’t see the confident, alluring Hoseok you’ve grown used to. Instead, there’s something raw, almost vulnerable, in the way he looks at you – like his eyes are holding back a sadness too heavy to share. Yet, his aura shifts, and you can feel it – a swirling mix of hesitation, protectiveness, and something deeper that makes your chest tighten.

“I think it’s a little too late to play coy,” you tease lightly, trying to ease the weight in the air. “Hoseok, you can tell me anything.”

But your attempt at humor doesn’t break through. He breaks eye contact instead, his shoulders sinking as he stares down at his hands. A deep sigh escapes him, like he’s carrying the weight of the celestial realm itself.

“I-I…” He hesitates, his fingers curling tightly against his lap before finally continuing, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. So, I’m thinking… maybe we should stay at my place from now on. Only I can enter my realm or allow others in, so it’s the safest option. If, and only if, that’s okay with you.”

The words come out in a rush, like he’s afraid of what your response might be.

You reach over, placing your hand on his. Your thumb traces soothing circles across his knuckles as you offer a small, reassuring smile. “Honestly? I think that’s the most practical decision we’ve made since we met.”

His lips twitch upward into a faint smile, but his eyes betray him. There’s more he isn’t saying, and deep down, you know it. Still, you decide not to push him. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. The connection between you has always been inexplicably strong, and now, you can feel something strange radiating from him – lingering traces of fear and worry mingled with anger and something similar to passion brewing within.

Hoseok remains paused in the moment before nodding. He gently pulls his hand from yours, starts the car, and turns onto the empty road. The low hum of the engine fills the silence as the truck stop disappears in the rearview mirror, and you can’t shake the feeling that Hoseok’s thoughts are elsewhere.

The journey to his realm is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels heavy rather than peaceful. When you arrive, his home seems different – still beautiful, still otherworldly, but tonight, it feels like a sanctuary desperately trying to shield you both from the outside chaos.

That night, when he wraps his arms around you, his touch feels different. There is a new intensity in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. His body is warm against yours, but his breathing betrays him – steady, yet just a little too deep, as though he’s grounding himself.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. The quiet between you speaks louder than words, the weight of everything unsaid pressing gently against your chest. You nestle closer, your head resting against him, and for a fleeting moment, you feel safe.

But the questions linger in your mind, along with the undeniable sense that tonight has changed something between you.

The morning comes too quickly, and with it, the next step of your journey. The oracle waits, and though you don’t know what answers she might hold, you can’t escape the gnawing feeling that they will change everything once again.

As the car moves through a landscape shifting from the familiar to the extraordinary, you once again feel the weight of silence between you and Hoseok. The road stretches endlessly until the terrain begins to morph. The skies shimmer in unnatural hues, and the air seems to hum with energy. By the time you arrive at the oracle’s realm, it feels like stepping into the pages of a sci-fi novel.

Towering structures pulsate with glowing light, and pathways crisscross the sky, suspended by invisible forces. Beings of every shape and size move through the streets, some humanoid, others unlike anything you’ve ever imagined. Hoseok guides you through the bustling city to a nondescript door nestled between two towering spires.

“This is it,” he says, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a flicker of apprehension.

Inside, the world is alive with music and chatter. The oracle’s domain is a club that seems to defy the laws of physics – floating platforms hover midair, and the walls shift colors and shapes in time with the music. In the center of it all stands the oracle, her presence commanding yet ethereal. Draped in shimmering fabrics that appear to move like liquid light, she greets you with a knowing smile.

“You’ve come,” she says, her voice resonating in a way that seems to speak directly to your soul.

The oracle wastes no time. Her gaze, sharp and unyielding, locks onto yours, as though she can see straight through your skin and into the very essence of your being. Her lips part, and her voice – low, melodic, yet weighted with an otherworldly power – begins to weave a story you haven’t known you were ready to hear.

“You carry their light, you know,” she says, her eyes narrowing slightly as a faint glow reflects in her irises. “Your parents. They knew this day would come, though they feared it more than anything. The whispers of your destiny haunted them, even as they tried to shield you from it.”

You blink, startled. “They…they never told me anything like that.”

“They didn’t have to,” the oracle replies, tilting her head. “They saw what you were – what you are. You are no angel, no demon, but something far more dangerous to both. You are balance itself, child. A tether. A bridge. The kind of being that can tip the scales of the universe with a single choice.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine. “What does that even mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It means,” the oracle continues, “that your existence is a thread in the great tapestry of the realms. Angels, demons, mortals – all of them tug at it, desperate to shape it to their will. But you…you were born to hold the threads together. To keep the chaos and order in check.” She leans forward, her gaze softening slightly. “It’s why the relic calls to you, why you can see things others cannot.”

Her words strike like lightning, illuminating truths that feel both foreign and deeply familiar. You struggle to breathe under the weight of it all, a sense of dread gripping your chest as a flood of emotions surge – disbelief, confusion, fear. Yet beneath it all is a strange sense of resonance, as though pieces of a puzzle you didn’t know you held were clicking into place. A connection to something greater than yourself, and the idea lingers, pulling at threads deep within you, stirring something primal, something you can’t name.

The oracle watches you closely, her piercing gaze reading the turmoil in your heart. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” she asks, her tone neither accusing nor gentle but steeped in certainty. “The pull. The connection to something greater than yourself. It’s not a coincidence. You were born to walk this path.”

“But…what does that mean? What am I supposed to do?” you ask, your voice trembling under the weight of it all. “Who am I supposed to trust?”

The oracle tilts her head, her expression unreadable but not unkind. “Trust,” she says slowly, “is a fragile thing. You will find it where you least expect it and lose it in the places you believe it to be safe. But that is not the question you should ask.”

“Then what should I ask?” you press.

“You should ask yourself,” she replies, “who you will be if trust is betrayed. If you are strong enough to walk this path regardless of the hands that reach for yours.”

You open your mouth to respond, but she continues, her words shifting like silk over steel. “Your future is not a single thread, child. It is a web of possibilities, branching out in ways even I cannot fully see. Which thread survives will depend on the choices you make.”

She pauses, her expression darkening as she speaks of the relic. “It is a source of unimaginable power, capable of restoring balance or obliterating it entirely. In the wrong hands, it will bring devastation to all realms – angelic, demonic, and mortal alike. Even those who seek balance must beware their own temptations.”

The room seems to dim as her voice grows quieter, darker. “You were born to hold the balance. The relic calls to you because it knows this. But power…power always demands a price. Will you pay it?”

Her words linger in the air long after she finishes speaking, leaving you with a feeling of unease you can’t quite shake.

Finally, she reveals the relic’s location, speaking its name like a hidden key that unlocks a door in your mind. It feels both distant and perilously close, a destination that will mark the next step in your journey. Her warning is clear, her gaze sharper than before. “Be sure you are willing to pay the price before you claim it,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper but carrying the weight of a scream.

The oracle steps back then, as if retreating into the shadows of her domain, her words a haunting echo in your mind as you stand on the precipice of a destiny you never sought to claim – born to walk this path.

After the intensity of the oracle’s revelations, Hoseok suggests taking a moment to explore the peaceful realm. It is a rare sanctuary, a place where violence is forbidden, and the energy of the realm soothes frayed nerves. As the two of you wander through the narrow streets, the grandeur of the city gives way to quieter corners, where the hum of activity softens into a tranquil buzz.

“Did you know about all of this?” you ask hesitantly, breaking the silence as you walk beside him. “The balance, the relic, my… role in all of it?”

Hoseok glances at you, his expression guarded. “I had my suspicions,” he admits after a pause. “But it’s not something you just… bring up in conversation.”

You frown. “Suspicions? You’ve been guiding me through this chaos, and all you had were suspicions?”

“Would you have believed me if I’d told you everything from the start?” he counters, his voice calm but laced with frustration. “You barely believe it now.”

He isn’t wrong, but his words don’t ease the unease twisting in your chest. “It feels like everyone knows more about me than I do,” you mutter. “Like my whole life has been leading to something I didn’t even know I’m a part of.”

Hoseok stops walking and turns to face you, his gaze steady. “Your life is still yours,” he says softly. “No one can take that from you – not angels, not demons, not anyone.”

His words carry a surprising sincerity, and for a moment, you feel a flicker of reassurance. Before you can respond, the two of you reach a small pub tucked away in a shadowed corner of the street. Its wooden sign sways gently in the breeze, and the soft glow of lanterns spilling from the windows makes it look almost out of place in the grand realm.

“Come on,” Hoseok says, nodding toward the door. “Let’s take a break.”

The pub’s interior is cozy, with warm lighting and a scent of spiced cider that immediately wraps around you like a comforting blanket. The two of you settle at a corner table, where Hoseok orders drinks, his choice of a deep red wine once again catching you off guard.

As you sit in the tentative quiet, you can’t help but ask, “Do you ever get tired of all this? The secrecy, the danger?”

Hoseok’s lips quiver into a small, humorless smile. “You get used to it. But tired? Yeah. Sometimes.”

“Then why do it?” you press. “Why keep helping me if it’s so exhausting?”

“Because someone has to,” he says simply. “And because… I believe in you.”

Your heart falters at his words, but before you can say anything, the moment is shattered by a voice cutting through the pub’s warmth.

“Demon Prince,” the figure says, their tone reverent yet bold as they approach your table.

You stiffen at the title, your gaze snapping to Hoseok. His jaw clenches, and a flicker of annoyance crosses his face. “I told you not to call me that,” he says sharply, his voice low but firm.

The figure hesitates, their expression faltering for a moment before they bow their head slightly. “Of course. My apologies.”

Your mind races, the stranger’s words echoing over and over. Demon Prince. The title carries a weight that can’t be ignored, and the way Hoseok reacts – defensive, irritated – only adds to your growing unease.

As the figure moves away, you lean toward him, your voice a hushed whisper. “What is that about? Why would they call you that?”

“It’s just a nickname,” Hoseok says quickly, his tone casual, though his eyes refuse to meet yours. “An old joke from another time.”

You don’t believe him for a second, but the intensity of his expression makes it clear he isn’t going to say anything more. The rest of your time in the pub passes in strained silence, the warm atmosphere doing little to thaw the tension building between you.

By the time you leave, the words Demon Prince linger in your mind, impossible to dismiss.

The drive back to Hoseok’s realm is unbearable. The silence stretched taut, every moment amplifying the questions you’re too afraid to ask but can’t keep inside any longer. Finally, you break. “Is it true?” you ask, your voice trembling. “Are you the Demon Prince?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale against the dark leather. For a moment, you think he might deny it – dismiss the stranger’s claim as baseless. But then he exhales, his voice low and weighted with regret. “I didn’t want you to see me that way.”

Anger and hurt surge, breaking through the thin veil of calm you’ve been clinging to. “If you can lie about this,” you say, your voice cracking, “what else are you hiding? How am I supposed to trust you now?”

Hoseok flinches at your words, the flicker of pain in his expression only amplifying your frustration. He tries to explain, but his answers feel evasive, and every word only widens the chasm growing between you. By the time you reach his house, the argument has spiraled into a storm of emotions you can’t contain.

“I need to go home,” you say firmly, your voice leaving no room for debate.

Hoseok’s eyes darken, the calm mask he’s worn earlier now completely shattered. “You can’t,” he says, his tone almost pleading. “It’s not safe for you out there – not until we finish this.”

But you shake your head, overwhelmed by the oracle’s revelations, the looming danger of the relic, and now this crushing sense of betrayal. “I can’t stay here. I just… I need space.”

Hoseok looks as though he wants to argue further, but after a long pause, he relents. “I can force you to stay here…but I won’t. At least take this with you,” he says as he hands you a glowing dagger, “if you run into any trouble, it’s been enchanted with a magic that can harm any celestial being.”

You accept the dagger, “Fine, now can I go home?” You try to sound stern, but your heart aches as you ask him.

His shoulders slump, and with a wave of his hand, the bathroom door shimmers and shifts, revealing the familiar sight of your apartment beyond it. The magic is seamless, but the ache in your chest is anything but.

As you step through the portal, you can’t bring yourself to look back. You tell yourself this is what you need – that space will bring clarity. But as the door closes behind you, severing the connection to Hoseok’s world, you feel the hollow ache of uncertainty settle deep in your chest.

The days pass in a haze of monotony, the kind you used to crave when life felt too chaotic. You go back to work, immersing yourself in tasks that once made you feel accomplished, but now, everything feels hollow. Your coworkers invite you to dinner, drinks – anything to pull you out of whatever funk they think you're in. You politely decline each time, excusing yourself with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

At night, the silence of your apartment feels heavier than before, and the city noise outside your window does little to fill the void. Sleep becomes elusive, your dreams haunted by visions of Hoseok. In them, he reaches for you, his eyes filled with desperation, but every time, just as your fingers are about to touch, he disappears into the shadows.

You startle awake one night, the image of him crumpled on the ground etched into your mind. His face pale, his body broken – it feels so real, too real to ignore. Shaking your head, you push the thought aside, blaming it on the stress of everything you’ve been through.

In an attempt to calm yourself, you shuffle to the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove for tea. The rhythmic ticking of the stove timer is interrupted by a sound that sends a chill down your spine – a heavy thud against your front door.

Your heart races as you reach for the weapon Hoseok had insisted you take with you. The handle feels foreign in your grip, but the weight of it gives you a strange sense of comfort. Slowly, you approach the door, your breaths shallow.

When you swing it open, the sight before you makes your blood run cold. Hoseok collapses into your entryway, his body battered and bloodied. “Hoseok!” you gasp, dropping the weapon and rushing to his side.

He groans, barely conscious as you hook an arm under his shoulder and struggle to drag him inside. The door slams shut behind you as you half-drag, half-carry him to the couch. His wounds look deep, blood soaking through his torn clothes, but as you clean them, you notice something strange. The gashes are closing before your eyes, knitting together with an almost supernatural speed.

With everything you’ve been through, it’s another magical occurrence that only keeps you astonished for a brief moment, before reminding you that life will never be normal again.

Hoseok’s eyes flutter open, and he gives you a weak smile. “I… couldn’t stay away,” he says, his voice strained but steady. “I tried to get the relic on my own, but…”

His words trail off as your emotions surge – relief that he is alive, anger at his recklessness, confusion over his sudden reappearance. “You shouldn’t have gone alone,” you say, your voice trembling. “What if you hadn’t made it back?”

“I had to,” he murmurs, his hand reaching up to cover yours. “I can’t do this without you.”

As you stare into his eyes, the weight of his words settles over you. “Why, Hoseok? Why do you need this relic so badly?”

He hesitates, his expression torn. Finally, he answers, “Because I want to be free. I want to live as a mortal again. To feel what it’s like to truly live – love, marry, have children, and grow old. I’ve spent centuries trapped in this endless cycle, and I can’t do it anymore.”

His voice breaks, the raw vulnerability in his tone catching you off guard. For the first time, you see him not as a guide or even a demon, but as a person – someone carrying the weight of lifetimes of pain.

Your anger softens, replaced by a mix of empathy and uncertainty. “Hoseok…” you begin, but the words catch in your throat. You don’t know what to say, and deep down, you’re not sure if anything can make this easier.

He reaches for your hand again, his grip firm but gentle. “I lied because I didn’t want you to see me as just a demon. I wanted you to trust me for who I am, not what I am. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The vulnerability in his words stirs something in you, but the ache in your chest reminds you of everything that’s happened – the oracle’s revelations, the stranger’s words, the secrets he has kept.

You sigh, leaning into him, placing your forehead against his. “I still need time,” you say softly as you look sorrowfully into his eyes, before gently pulling your hand away. “This is all just too much to process.”

That night, you watch over him as he sleeps, the rise and fall of his chest steadying your frayed nerves. His wounds are almost completely healed, but the scars they leave on your trust will take longer.

The silence of the room is broken only by the faint sound of the city outside, but inside, the air is thick with unresolved tension. As dawn begins to break, you can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning – that the choices you make now will ripple far beyond anything you could foresee.

And somewhere, deep in the recesses of your mind, you know the journey is far from over.

[mrsparkjimin18]

Part 1: Threads of Twilight

The rain beats relentlessly against the windshield, a steady thrum of drops blending with the low hum of the engine as the car speeds down a dark country road. Pressing your tiny hand against the window, you watch as the world blurs in streaks of silver. The headlights of the car cut through the darkness on the long and desolate road, but the storm outside appears to swallow everything beyond their reach.

Your parents' voices are muffled by the rain, yet what you do hear sounds urgent, tense. Their words seem jumbled, and you can’t quite make them out, but you sense the fear in their voices. Your mother’s voice trembles, like she’s trying to tell you something important, but you don’t understand. Your father’s voice is rising in a sharp, yet comfortable tone all at once, trying to reassure her and keep the panic at bay.

“Angel,” your mother says, but her voice quivers, as if she’s speaking more to herself than to you. “It’s…it’s important. You have to understand. Your name is more than just that, more than just a name, it’s who you are. You’re destined–”

“Don’t,” your father interrupts, his tone pleading, desperate. “She’s too young to understand. We don’t have time. We need to–”

Suddenly a flash of bright light pierces through the windshield. You squint, but the light isn’t just bright – it distorts the world around you, twisting everything like a fevered dream. The edges of the windshield seem to melt, and the familiar hum of the engine becomes muffled, as though the very air itself is thickening. Then, just as your body tenses in anticipation of the crash, everything around you becomes a sea of white. Your parents’ voices continue, but their words drown in the noise of your panic.

And then….everything goes white.

So bright, so blinding, it takes away everything – the sound, the sight, the air. You attempt to squeeze your eyes shut, but it makes no difference. You’re being consumed by the light, almost drowning in it.

When you finally open your eyes, the world has stopped. The car is gone, the storm has passed, and everything feels…wrong. Rapidly blinking, you try clearing the fog from your mind, but then through the haze, you see them.

Your parents. Their bodies lie motionless on the road, covered with white sheets. The flash of ambulance lights flicker in the dark, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The world feels distant, unreal, as if you’re watching it from far away.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your hands tremble, and strangers surround you while gently lifting you into the ambulance. You don’t understand, not yet, and maybe you never will. You just can’t comprehend the situation, but you can feel it – a deep, emptiness within you, like you’ve lost something important.

The world outside fades as you’re taken further away from everything you knew, leaving only unanswered questions behind. Who were you before this? And why did the light take everything you had in the world away from you?

The city is alive with the usual hum – a harmony of car horns, distant chatter, and the occasional barking dog. Yet, tonight, the air feels heavier, as if the world is holding its breath. You sit on the chaise lounge in your window, cradling a lukewarm cup of tea, staring out at the streetlights illuminating golden circles onto the pavement below. The tea cooled quite a while ago, but you didn't notice. Your mind is elsewhere, stuck on something intangible.

The name Angel has followed you as long as you can remember.It was given to you by  your parents, a name that seemed to reflect the way you’ve always tried to live – too good for the world around you. Over the years, it became less of a name and more of an identity, even your friends added their own interpretations – kind, helpful, selfless, and radiant. But lately, the name feels strange, almost like a mask. You’ve begun to wonder if it’s really who you are, or someone you’ve only been attempting to portray.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a shift in your reflection on the window – not your face, but the ghostly outline of something just beyond. You flinch and turn quickly, scanning the room but see nothing. 

“Not again,” you murmur to yourself, shaking off the uneasy feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, and this isn't the first time.

When you were young the shadows appeared harmless, but now they seem to shift in ways they shouldn’t – elongating and twisting as if they’re alive, slipping just out of sight when you notice them. Sometimes when you walk down the street, you see other things more clearly than you ever have – faces in the crowd that are too perfect, too sharp, their edges seem to ripple as if their true form is just out of reach.

Before you have a moment to dwell on it, a sharp knock interrupts the quiet. You frown, setting your mug down. It’s late, definitely too late for a visitor, but the second knock is firmer, insistent even.

When you open the door, the man standing there is not like any other you’ve ever seen before. His face, with sharp lines and captivating angles, has a jawline that could cut glass like a diamond, and dark eyes that appear to see right through you. He’s dressed impeccably in black, with an air of elegance not befitting to your humble doorstep. Briefly, you wonder if he’s lost or if you’re merely dreaming – until his lips form into a small, knowing smile.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, his voice smooth and low, like a melody you don’t realize you’ve heard before. “We need to talk.”

You freeze, your heart nearly pounding through your chest. Everything about him feels off – like he’s an actor playing a role that’s a little too perfect, too rehearsed. A chill slithers down your spine, the kind that sets your teeth on edge, as if your body knows something your mind refuses to accept. The hairs on your arm stand, yet you still can’t bring yourself to close the door. His gaze holds you captive, unnervingly familiar, as though he’s peering into your soul and searching for something you’re not sure of.

You’ve seen him before, a small voice whispers, though you don’t know where or how.

“Y-you…must have the wrong person,” your tone is uncertain yet defensive.

He steps closer, uninvited, and your instincts scream for you to slam the door shut, but you remain frozen in place. Something about him – his gaze, his presence – feels magnetic. Dangerous even.

“Oh…I’m not mistaken,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet laced with shadow. “You’re exactly who I’m looking for.”

You hesitate, attempting to sound braver than you feel, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays you. “Look, I don’t know who you are or what it is you want, but I think you should leave.”

You back away and begin to close the door, but he jams the door with his foot.

For a moment, he studies you, his expression unreadable before his lips twitch into a smirk. “You don’t know what’s coming…don’t fight it, Angel, you’ll need me…”

Before you can reply, threaten to call the police, or pretend like you’re calling for your imaginary boyfriend to come to the door, he turns on his heel and disappears down the street leaving you breathless and admittedly unsettled.

That night, your dreams are vivid and unfamiliar. You find yourself in a dark hole of oblivion, an endless space, and the man is there calling your name and reaching his hand out for yours. There’s something surprisingly intoxicating about the way he looks at you – like he knows every secret you’ve kept buried in your entire existence. 

When you wake, your heart is pounding, and his face lingers in your mind as though the dream wasn’t merely just a dream at all.

“Get a grip,” you mutter, shaking off the feeling as you prepare for the day ahead. No matter how hard you try, the image of him refuses to fade.

In the days that follow, life resumes its normal rhythm – work, errands, the occasional phone call from a friend – it’s all painfully normal. You begin to convince yourself that the man, whomever he may be, was just another strange, passing encounter, though the memory of his presence lingers like a shadow at the edge of your subconscious – until the day it doesn’t.

Late one evening after dinner and drinks with a friend, as you walk home the streets are unusually quiet, when you sense a presence. It’s not him – this is colder, heavier, like you’re being smothered. You make a rushed glance over your shoulder, only for a split second, and you swear you see a figure surrounded by light, its face obscured by the blinding glow.

“Angel,” a voice calls – sharp, commanding. A chill slams deeply to your bones, freezing you where you stand. The air feels heavier, pressing against your chest, and your skin prickles like unseen hands are reaching for you. You don’t dare turn around or even respond. Fear consumes you and your instinct to run kicks in. But the figure is fast, too fast, and just when you think you’ll be caught, a sudden rush of heat floods the air around you. 

“You?” is all you can utter as he appears out of nowhere, creating a barrier between you and your pursuer.

The figure lunges toward the man from the other night, and he meets him with impossible speed – one moment he’s in front of you and the next he’s a blur, only a crack of wind following his movements. You see a flash of something, maybe claws, raking the air, but he blocks them effortlessly, his expression eerily calm. You stumble back, the sound of their blows reverberating like thunder in your chest.

He turns to you, his gaze steady, his expression more serious than the first encounter you had with him. Terror churns in your stomach, but it’s tangled with something else – relief? Anger? You can’t decide whether to thank him or scream at him, with a trembling voice you manage to ask, “What the hell was that?!”

“There’s no time to explain, right now we need to go. You’re not safe anymore, Angel. They know what you are.”

“What I am?” you echo, your voice shaky. “What does that even mean? Who are they? Who are you? What is going on?”

“I’m Hoseok and it’s a long story,” he says, his tone softer now. “But if you want to survive, I need you to trust me and believe that you’re part of something much bigger than you could ever imagine. That's exactly why I need your help.”

You should run. Every rational fiber of your being screamed for you to run, but something about Hoseok’s gaze – a flicker of desperation – rooted you in place. You’d spent years avoiding trouble, but this time, it felt wrong to just walk away. Why?

Despite the whirlwind of emotions – fear, anger, disbelief – you nod. Because as much as you want to deny everything you’ve witnessed, deep down, you know he’s telling the truth. And something about him, against every logical cell in your brain, makes you want to believe.

The walk back to your apartment is silent and the tension between you and Hoseok is thick enough to slice with a knife. The streets feel darker than usual and the distant hum of the city does little to calm your frayed nerves. Hoseok walks in stride beside you, his pace measured all while his sharp eyes continuously scan the surroundings.

When you finally reach your door, your hand trembles on the doorknob, your pulse roaring in your ears. Every fiber of your being tells you to run inside and slam the door in his face, and yet, you don’t…you can’t. Hoseok stands there, his eyes dark and unreadable, yet unrelenting. The silence stretches between you like a taut, frayed string, until it snaps and you finally step aside.

“Just for a minute,” you murmur, though you don’t even believe it yourself.

He sweeps past you, moving with eerie precision as he checks the darkest corners of your place. Once he’s satisfied, he nods, giving you the ‘all clear’.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” you mutter, shutting the door behind you.

A ghost of a smile curling on his lips as he turns to you, “Habit.”

The word lingers in the air, deceptively simple, yet it holds so much meaning – or maybe nothing at all. You want to push, demand an explanation, but holding your tongue seems to be all you can do. Instead, you watch him as he lowers himself into the corner of your sofa, his gaze sharp and continuously searching.

“So…what now?” you ask cautiously, folding your arms.

“Now?” Hoseok sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “Now you and I will coexist for a while.” His voice remains calm, like this is the most natural thing in the world. The words settle over you like a boulder, heavy and impossible to ignore. You want to scoff, call him insane, but deep down, something about his certainty terrifies you more than the unknown.

“Excuse me,” you laugh.

“I’ll stay here…for your safety and mine.”

Your instincts begin screaming, telling you to reject this mad idea, but he continues talking, as if he can read your mind, sense your resistance. “You don’t understand what is going on around you, what you’re involved in yet. You’ve seen them…Him…the angel and it wasn’t random.” His tone drops lower, softer, almost regretful in a way, “If I leave, they’ll come for you again. If I stay, there’s less of a chance they’ll come back.”

A pit forms in your stomach, nausea setting in, “Why me? Why are you so convinced I’m part of…whatever this is?”

He meets your gaze, “Because you were there and you’re still…alive.”

Your throat tightens like a fist, the taste of acid crawling up like fire, you swallow hard against it, pushing it back down. Your mind cycles through a million questions all at once and you know he’s not telling the truth – at least not everything – but the way he speaks, so calm and certain, lets you know there’s more to this than you’re aware of.

“I don’t need your protection,” you insist, but the tiny waver in your voice betrays you. “You can go.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his dark eyes unreadable. “You need to understand, Angel, that you’re already in this, whether I stay or go…just know that if you push me out, you won’t like what happens next.”

The way he says your name – Angel – sends an inexplicable chill down your spine. It sounds almost reverent, as though he knows more about its meaning than he’s letting you know.

“Stay or go…it doesn't matter to me,” you snap defensively, even though deep down, you know it’s a lie. Your thoughts are a mess, frayed at the edges, but beneath it all there’s a voice whispering – Keep him close. Enemies closer.

“Fine,” you finally mutter, wrapping yourself in your fleece blanket as you sink into the chaise lounge opposite him. “Stay, but don’t, for a minute, think that this means I fully believe anything you’re saying or trust you. However, you did save me from whatever that was…and I’m grateful, I guess.”

He doesn’t gloat or argue. Instead, he simply leans back, nodding as though he knew you’d come to that conclusion eventually. “Good choice.”

You’re unsure whether you feel relieved or trapped, the room feels smaller now, the shadows heavier than they once were. You try telling yourself it’s because you want answers – because you deserve answers – the truth eats away at you quietly. You’re unsure if he’s good or bad, ally or enemy, but for tonight, his presence brings you an odd sense of solace.

But you know he protected you tonight – from the angel – because no matter how you look at it, something was off about its voice, the way it called your name.

The rest of the night passes in a haze of fragmented moments. Hoseok stays close, a quiet, watchful presence in the darkened corners of your home. You tell yourself you’re fine, that this is all temporary, maybe even just a bad dream, or maybe the answers will all come together eventually. But, even as exhaustion drags you under, the last thing you remember is the flicker of his gaze, even as the room fades into a shadow.

When you wake, the aroma of coffee hits you first. For a brief moment, you brush last night off as another nightmare – until you hear the clink of a mug being set on the kitchen counter.

Sitting up, you rub your eyes, stunned when they finally focus and you see him. Hoseok is standing in your kitchen, sleeves rolled up, pouring coffee into two mismatched mugs as though it’s his house as well. The morning light filters through the window, highlighting his sharp facial features and the effortless grace in his movements.

“You’re still here?” you ask groggily.

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” he says, glancing over his shoulder, offering a faint smile.

You get up slowly, crossing the living room to lean against the kitchen island. “Why are you making coffee in my kitchen?”

“Because you’re going to need it,” he replies, sliding a mug toward you. “We have a lot to discuss and not much time.”

You take the mug, its warmth grounding you. “I suggest you start talking then.”

He leans against the counter, his gaze steady. “What happened last night wasn’t random. The angel that came after you…he’s part of something bigger. And now that they’ve seen you, they won’t stop until they have you.”

“Seen me? Have me?” you echo, confusion tightening your chest. “I mean, what are the chances that my name’s Angel and now angels are after me?”

“You’re…special,” Hoseok says carefully, as if he’s choosing his words with precision. “You’ve always been able to see things most people can’t. That’s not an accident, Angel. There’s a reason for it.”

The name feels different now, heavier with meaning. “Why? What reason? What are you so hesitant to tell me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. But there’s something else…something they’re after. A relic, powerful enough to tip the balance between angels and demons. And I think you’re the key to finding it.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, your grip tightening on the mug. “Me, the key? This sounds insane.”

“Maybe,” he admits, “but it’s the truth. You’ve been pulled into this whether you like it or not. And if you want to survive, you’ll help me find it before they do.”

You stare into the dark liquid in your mug, swirling it around, trying to ground yourself in its warmth. The morning sun filters through the curtains, golden light pooling in the corners of the room, but the conversation has left an unsettling chill crawling down your spine.

“A relic?” you repeat, your voice quiet, nearly a whisper. “What kind of relic could possibly do that?”

He leans back in the chair opposite of you at the table, his gaze never leaving yours. Even in this moment of calm, his presence hums with an otherworldly vibration – like a predator patiently biding its time.

“The kind angels would kill for,” he answers finally. “And demons would burn entire worlds to possess.”

You blink as your throat begins tightening at the weight of his words. “And what does any of this have to do with me? I don’t know anything about relics, or angels, or…” Your voice falters. Demons.

He slightly tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” The words spill from your mouth before you can stop them, immediately regretting the sharpness in your tone. Yet, he’s calm – too calm – still, his eyes glint with the faintest hint of amusement.

“Whether you want to accept it or not, you’re a part of this now,” he says, his elbows braced on the table as he leans forward. “They’ll come for you, whisper lies, use every trick they have to turn you against yourself, so you need to be ready.”

You swallow against the lump in your throat, your mind racing as you process what he’s saying – turn me against myself?

“So what then?” you ask as you grip the handle of your mug so tightly your knuckles begin to turn white. “I-I just help you find this relic and hope I survive? That’s your great plan?”

Hoseok’s smile sharpens, not with malice, but certainty, “Survival isn’t hope, Angel, it’s your choice…your choice.”

The room falls eerily silent, the wind outside seems to pause as if waiting for your response, like the world is holding its breath. You stare at him, searching his face for an inkling of doubt, a crack in the smooth confidence he wears as armor, yet you find none.

After a long, suspenseful moment, you set down your mug with a soft thud, breaking the silence, “Fine.”

His brows slightly lift in surprise, but he doesn’t interrupt as you rise from your chair and begin pacing the small dining room. 

“But, if I’m going to do this…if I’m really going to help you…I need answers…All of them. No more cryptic half-truths, no more games.” You stop pacing, turning to face him, “If I’m part of this…I deserve to know why.”

With an unreadable expression he studies you for a long moment, then he slowly rises from his chair. His movements unhurried, yet there’s intensity in him now, and the air shifts around you as he steps closer.

“Answers come with a price, Angel,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, “but I can promise you one thing…you’ll know everything when the time is right.”

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him intimidate you, even as the low rumble in his voice sends shivers dancing along your skin.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, your voice maintaining steady, portraying the opposite of what you feel inside.

“Good.” The corners of his mouth twitch with approval, or maybe amusement.

He steps back, the tension in the room easing just enough for you to catch your breath.

“Then we start tonight,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Get some rest, you’ll need it.”

Rest? You almost laugh at the absurdity of the suggestion, but your resolve hardens as he makes his way to the living room. You don’t know what lies ahead, what the relic is, or why you’re so important, but you know one thing for certain – you’re not going into this blind.

And whatever happens…you’re not backing down.

The days following your decision to help him pass in a blur of silence and unanswered questions. You find yourself watching him, the way he moves through your home with an unsettling ease, as if he’s always lived in it, as if he belongs there. He keeps himself busy, reading your books that you forgot you owned, sketching strange symbols into a leather journal, but you know he’s waiting, watching your every move.

And then there’s his voice, always calm and controlled, except for those moments when you press him for answers. That’s the only time you catch a glimpse of the frustrations bubbling just beneath his surface.

“You’re still not telling me everything,” you say one morning, the words sharp as you set your fork down after playing with your food for the last ten minutes.

Hoseok, also seated at the table, lays his fork down before wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin, without looking up. He slowly exhales, a measured sound that grates on your nerves. “We’ve been over this,” he says, his voice low and tempered, “you already know what’s at stake.”

“The relic,” you mutter, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “The balance between angels and demons, you’ve said it a hundred times now, but what I don't understand is why me? Why am I the key?”

Finally looking up, his dark eyes lock onto yours, “You think I haven’t been asking myself the same question?” he retorts, his tone edged with a smidge of irritation. “But you are the key Angel, and that’s not something we can ignore.”

You’re not sure why but his words sting. “It doesn’t make sense,” you insist, “I’m just…me. I’m not special, I don’t have powers and I don’t even know what any of this means.”

His chair scrapes as he stands, making his way around the table to sit next to you. There’s no longer a softness to his gaze, only sharp and unyielding determination. “You don’t have to understand it yet, you only have to accept it.”

“Accept what?” you demand, your voice shaking. “That my life’s been stripped away from me because of some stupid relic I’ve never seen? That I’m suddenly a pawn in this cosmic war that I never signed up for?”

Hoseok’s jaw tightens, but rather than snapping back, he softens. “No,” he murmurs, “that you’re more than what you’ve been led to believe.”

His words hit you harder than expected and a long silence lingers between you two. For a long moment, the noises around you are heightened – the faint hum of the fridge, the steady rhythm of your breathing.

“My mother…” The words catch in your throat but you force yourself to continue, “She said something to me, before the accident…before she died. Something about my name, that it means something, that it’s who I am.”

Hoseok’s expression shifts just slightly, but enough that you notice a change in his demeanor. He stands, walking away, running a hand through his dark hair as if trying to steady himself. “Your name isn’t a coincidence, Angel, it’s a clue.”

“A clue to what?”

“To you,” he replies, “and to what you’re capable of.”

The weight of his words settle like stones in your chest, “What I’m capable of?” you echo faintly.

“You think this relic is some lifeless artifact buried in the ground? It’s not…It’s power, ancient, raw power. And you…” he gestures toward you with a deliberate slowness, holding your gaze with an intensity so strong you shudder, “are tied to it. Whether by blood, fate, or by something unexplainable, you’re it’s compass…it’s guide…it’s anchor.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to explode in your chest, rapidly thumping as you take in what he’s saying and search for the words to respond. 

“That’s why they’re after me?” you whisper, “The angels. The demons. They want to use me to find it.”

Hoseok nods. “And if they do, it’s over, this world, everything…it’ll all burn.”

It feels as if the floor has been ripped from beneath you, leaving you suspended in a free fall with nothing to pull yourself back up. Your mind races with half-formed thoughts, doubts, and fears. None of this makes sense, but deep down, without being able to justify or explain the feeling, you know he’s right.

He must see the turmoil in your face and his expression softens as he steps closer, his voice dropping to a gentle tone. “I know it’s hard to hear and I know you didn’t ask for any of this, but you’re not alone in this anymore. I’m here, Angel, to help you, guide you, we’ll face this together.”

You don’t know if you should believe him, but something in his voice – something in the way he looks at you – makes you want to.

“What if I fail?” your voice barely audible, a faint whisper.

“You won’t” he says, his tone firm, “because I won’t let you.”

And for the first time in days, the silence that follows feels a little less heavy.

Over the next few weeks, Hoseok establishes a relentless training routine, forcing you to confront fears you didn’t even know existed. Mornings are spent identifying supernatural signatures – the unnerving chill that angels bring versus the heavy, magnetic pull of demons. Afternoons are a brutal crash course in survival tactics – defensive maneuvers, combat drills, and endless sparring sessions that leave you breathless, bruised, and teetering on the edge of exhaustion.

“You need to move faster!” Hoseok snaps during one particularly grueling session. You stumble back, narrowly avoiding the blunt edge of his practice dagger as it whistles past your side. “In a real fight, hesitation will kill you.”

“I know!” you gasp, frustration boiling over. Sweat drips from your temple, the ache in your limbs compounding with every strike. “I’m trying!”

“Trying isn’t good enough.” He steps forward, unrelenting, his dark gaze locking onto yours, the weight of his focus pinning you in place. “You’re afraid. I can see it. You think you’ll fail but fear doesn’t stop them. It won’t stop angels or demons…and it won’t stop me.”

His words sting, sharp as any blade. You flinch because he’s right. There’s a tight knot of doubt in your chest, and no matter how hard you fight, you can’t shake it loose.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, the admission barely audible. It’s meant for you, a secret confession to the void, but Hoseok hears it.

Something shifts in his expression, almost imperceptibly. The steel in his eyes softens, though his voice remains firm. “You can, because you don’t have a choice.”

It’s not comfort you need – it’s conviction. In his blunt, unwavering belief, you find something to hold onto.

“Again,” he orders, stepping back.

Gritting your teeth, you square your stance and nod, shoulders rolling into place. This time, you meet his strikes head-on.

Later that evening, every muscle in your body aches. Regardless of your exhaustion, Hoseok’s training is merciless, pushing you far beyond your limits. But the bruises are worth it. Small victories are beginning to surface – you dodge quicker, react faster, anticipate his movements before they land.

Until you don’t.

He lunges, fast and fluid, catching you mid-step. Before you can recover, the world tilts, and you’re pinned against the cold mat beneath him. His weight hovers just above you, arms braced on either side of your shoulders. His face is so close you can see everything – the sharp gleam in his eyes and an unreadable flicker of tension, the smooth, perfect skin of his jaw.

“Stop telegraphing your moves,” he murmurs. His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. As his breath brushes your skin an uninvited warmth curls through you.

Unable to speak, you only nod, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else.

“Get up,” he says at last. The pause lingers longer than it should, and when he pushes himself away, you roll onto your knees, sucking in a shaky breath. Your fingertips twitch where they brushed his arm in the fall, and there’s an intensifying heat you can’t shake.

That night, your exhaustion pulls you into a deep sleep. However, the dreams are anything but restful.

Hoseok is there, his face close, closer than ever before. You feel his hand brush against your cheek, smooth and sure, before trailing down to tilt your chin upward. A smoldering gaze in his eyes, dark and heavy, pinning you in place just as firmly as his hands do when they find your hips.

“You don’t have to fight me,” he murmurs, his voice low and impossible to ignore.

You open your mouth to respond, to protest, to push him away, but he kisses you before the words come. His mouth moves against yours with deliberate precision, and the heat that coils through you is enough to make you gasp. Everything feels too real – the weight of him, the silkiness of his skin, the way his hands linger and pull you closer – so real that when you wake, your chest is heaving, your skin is flushed with heat, and an arousal between your thighs that can’t be ignored.

You sit up, pressing a trembling hand to your face.

“It was just a dream,” you mutter to yourself, trying to steady your breathing. But the memory clings to you, vivid and unshakable, as if it really happened.

The next day, Hoseok introduces grapples and holds.

“It’s not enough to fight,” he explains, circling you like a predator stalking prey. “Sometimes, survival means escaping.”

He’s behind you before you have a chance to process his words, his movements swift and effortless. One arm slips around your neck while the other locks your wrists. He’s squeezing, gently yet firm, the restraint sends your pulse racing, breath catching in your throat.

“Get out of it,” Hoseok instructs, voice calm, unnervingly steady.

You squirm, straining to remember the steps he taught earlier – shift your weight, twist your hips, leverage the weak points of his hold. But each attempt only presses you closer to him. His chest is firm against your back, his breath grazing the curve of your neck – each sensation unraveling your focus, reminding you of your dream.

“Focus, Angel,” he says softly. His tone loses its usual sharpness, dipping lower, almost as if he can read your thoughts. The way he says your name makes your spine tingle.

You should move. You’re supposed to escape, but for a fleeting moment, you don’t. You freeze, heart hammering against your ribs, you want to stay just a little longer in this moment, in his embrace.

“What are you waiting for?” he murmurs.

His words snap you out of it. Summoning every ounce of resolve, you shift, twist, and wrench yourself free, stumbling forward. Your skin burns where his hands lingered, your breath ragged as you turn back to face him. He’s watching you, unreadable as always, though something lingers in his expression – something softer, curious.

“Not bad,” he says, though his voice sounds different. Less instructor. More… something else.

You glance up at him, and for a moment, he doesn’t look away. That searching look makes something twist in your stomach, and you feel the heat creeping up your neck.

The growing tension doesn’t end when training does. In the silence between drills, when night creeps in and exhaustion settles over you, the awareness lingers. You catch yourself watching Hoseok more often than you should – not with suspicion or curiosity anymore, but with something else. Something warmer. The way his shirt clings to his frame when he spars, the way his hair falls into his eyes when he’s distracted, the rare moments his lips quirk into a half-smile – all of it draws you in, piece by piece.

And sometimes…you think he notices. You’ll catch him watching you, his expression hard to decipher, his gaze lingering a second too long. The look always makes your stomach flip, a warning and a temptation all at once.

It’s dangerous – this growing attraction. You know it could get in the way of everything. You should be focusing on survival, on training, and on the task at hand, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop the pull.

And it’s growing stronger every day.

Tonight feels different. Hoseok pushes you harder, forcing you to tap into the energy you’ve been avoiding.

“Again,” he commands, his voice sharp.

“I can’t!” you yell, your whole body trembling with exhaustion.

“Yes, you can!” Hoseok’s eyes blazing as he steps forward. “You’re holding back because you’re afraid. Stop fighting it.”

Your chest heaves, frustration and anger bubbling over. “What do you want from me?! I’m already giving myself, losing myself, to this war!”

Rather than answer, he moves closer, his presence overwhelming. “I want you to stop running from who you are.”

Before you can respond, he cups your jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle. Your breath hitches as his thumb grazes your lip, the tension between you snapping like a taut wire.

“You’re not powerless, Angel,” he murmurs. “Not in the way you think.”

His mouth crashes against yours – not soft or tentative – it’s consuming, raw, and it leaves you breathless. It’s like the world tilts on its axis as you lose yourself in it…in him.

When he pulls away, your pulse is racing, your mind spinning.

“You’re ready,” he says, his voice dark and sure.

“For what?” you whisper as you step back, attempting to create space between the two of you.

He smiles, something dangerous and knowing in his expression. “To stop pretending you’re human.”

The silence between you feels alive, electric, almost dangerous. Hoseok doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, instead he just watches you with those dark eyes that seem to unravel you slowly. You’re still reeling from the kiss, your lips tingling, your pulse a frantic staccato in your throat.

“What are you doing to me?” you whisper, your voice breathless and shaky.

Hoseok’s smirk deepens, slow and knowing. “Nothing you don’t already want…desire.”

Your body feels traitorous, heat pooling low in your stomach as he steps closer. He doesn’t rush – he moves like a predator who knows his prey can’t escape, his every motion deliberate. When he finally reaches you, his fingers brush along your jaw, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“Why are you fighting it, Angel?” His voice is a purr, dark silk wrapping around you. “You’re stronger than this…stronger than them, but you cling to your humanity like it’s going to save you.”

“I am human,” you bite back, but your conviction falters when he leans in, his breath brushing against your ear.

“No,” he whispers, his tone laced with something wicked. “You’re mine.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, your knees suddenly become weak. Before you can protest, his hands meet your body – one pressing against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, while the other tangles in your hair to tilt your head back. His mouth claims yours again, harder this time, deeper.

It’s not a kiss meant for tenderness – it’s a claiming, a seduction that leaves no room for doubt. You whimper against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt as the room feels like it’s spinning. He tastes like danger and sin, and you hate how much you crave more.

Hoseok pulls back only slightly, his lips hovering over yours as he studies your face. “Tell me to stop.”

You can’t.

He grins, that devilish, calculating grin that makes you want to slap him and pull him closer all at once. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you can find your voice, his hands slide under your shirt, his palms scorching against your skin as he pushes the fabric up. You shiver as the cool air teases your body, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off him. His mouth trails down your throat, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, leaving you trembling.

“You’re holding back,” he murmurs against you, his voice reverberating through your chest. “What are you afraid of, Angel? Me…or yourself?”

“Stop talking,” you demand, surprising yourself.

Hoseok chuckles, low and dangerous. “As you wish.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time, lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your breath catches, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he carries you down the hall. You’re helpless in his embrace, but you don’t feel fear, only anticipation that simmers through you like a slow-burning flame.

When the door opens, the room transforms. It’s as if the space recognizes him – recognizes you. Each candle bursts to life, flames blooming one by one in a wave of golden light softening the shadows. The air is thick with the scent of wax and something smoky, spice and seductive – like him.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, barely audible, but he hears you.

He lowers you onto the bed, his movements deliberate and measured, as though savoring every second. His gaze is molten, drinking you in, but he doesn’t pounce like you expect. Instead, he steps back just enough to look at you fully, his fingers going to the buttons of his shirt.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs, the command in his voice soft but unyielding.

You don’t. You can’t. You watch as he slowly undoes each button, the fabric parting to reveal the sculpted lines of his chest, the faint markings that seem to glow against his skin. Your pulse stutters. He’s not just a man. He’s something other, something more.

And you want him.

His shirt falls to the floor, and he returns to you, his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist. The pressure of his touch burns, sending ripples of heat through your veins. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, lifting it with slow deliberation, knuckles grazing your ribs as he pulls it over your head.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, reverence lacing his voice as his fingers trace the line of your collarbone. “You’ve hidden yourself for so long. Do you know how extraordinary you are, Angel?”

Your breath hitches as he lowers himself to you, his lips pressing a kiss against your shoulder. It’s soft at first, but then his mouth begins to move, trailing fire across your skin. He nips lightly at the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, making you gasp and arch toward him.

“Sensitive here too?” His voice a dark murmur as he presses his lips to the hollow of your throat, letting his teeth scrape just enough to make your pulse jump.

“Yes,” you whisper, fisting the sheets with your hands.

“Good.”

He takes his time exploring, kissing a line from your neck down to your sternum, pausing to trace the curve of your breasts with his tongue through the thin fabric of your bra. Your body responds instinctively, a moan slipping from your lips as you’re unable to hold back any longer. He looks up, his smirk sinful, eyes glinting like he’s won something.

“You don’t need to hold back, Angel,” he says softly. “Let me hear you.”

His hands work the clasp of your bra, slipping it away before his mouth replaces it, hot and demanding. You gasp again, your back arching as his tongue circles your hard nubs, nibbling and teasing with his teeth, until you’re writhing beneath him. The candles flicker wildly, their flames mimicking the storm building inside you.

His hands roam lower, skimming down your waist, kneading the soft curve of your hips before he begins to peel away the last barrier between you. His touch is firm but deliberate, like every inch of you deserves attention. When you’re bare beneath him, Hoseok pauses, taking you in again, his thumb brushing over your hip bone with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his mouth hovering just above yours. “How alive you are? How free you’re becoming?”

You nod, unable to form words.

Hoseok rewards you with another kiss – deeper this time. He claims your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that leaves you dizzy, but he doesn’t stop there. His kisses trail downward again, past the valley of your chest, down your stomach. Each press of his lips burns hotter, leaving you trembling with anticipation.

When his mouth finally reaches your sensitive bead, your head snaps back, a startled cry escaping your throat. Your body jerks, but his hands anchor you in place, spreading your thighs wider as he lavishes attention where you need it most. He’s thorough, merciless in the way he teases and tastes you.

“Look at me,” he commands again, his voice thick with desire.

It takes effort, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. The sight of him – his dark hair falling into his face, his lips glistening as he works you to the edge – nearly undoes you.

“You’re so close,” he says, smirking against your skin. “Let go, Angel. Let me take you there.”

You finally let go. 

The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking beneath him as the candles flare brighter, heat pulsing through the room like an extension of your release.

Hoseok doesn’t give you time to recover. He rises again, claiming your mouth with a kiss so deep it leaves no doubt who you belong to at this moment. You taste yourself on his lips, a wicked reminder of how thoroughly he’s worshiped you already.

Then he settles between your thighs, teasing your entrance with his fingers, readying you for him. When he pushes into you, the stretch is exquisite. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t falter. He moves slowly at first, deliberate, as though he wants you to feel every inch of him.

“You’re not weak,” he breathes into your ear, his movements growing sharper, his thrusts deeper. “You’ve never been weak.”

Each roll of his hips drives you higher, the fire inside you building again, faster this time. You cling to him, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

“I see you, Angel,” Hoseok groans, his pace unrelenting. “All of you.”

The words break something inside you. Your second release crashes into you like a lightning strike, the pleasure blinding, overwhelming, but you don’t shatter. You expand.

When the world settles again, you’re still in his arms, panting as the candles flicker gently with a soft glow. Hoseok’s weight presses you into the mattress, grounding you, but his hand brushes tenderly over your hair, his voice soft.

“There you are,” he murmurs. And he’s right. You’re not lost. You’ve been found.

[mrsparkjimin18]

Tethers of Light and Shadows A Demon Hoseok Trilogy

→ pairing: demon!hoseok x named reader

→ genre/au: angels and demons au, supernatural, mature smut, angst

→ rating: M

→ total wc: 7617 (ongoing, will change as parts are added)

⚠︎ chapter warnings: Themes of loss and grief, light violence, supernatural elements, mention of past trauma, morally ambiguous characters

summary: Angel’s life was never ordinary, but she could never have prepared for the moment it unraveled. A mysterious man with dark secrets pulls her into a hidden world of celestial relics and supernatural power, where angels and demons wage war over humanity’s fate.

As truths about her past and her role in this ancient conflict come to light, Angel must navigate shifting allegiances and dangerous choices. With the line between good and evil blurring at every turn, the key to saving the world may lie in unraveling her own destiny—before it consumes her.

a/n: This story was written as part of the @bangtanwritershq 4th quarter writing event ‘Monster Mash’. I truly hope I gave this au justice as it’s my first time trying it! A huge shoutout to @heathfritillary-blog @lo1k-diamondslol1k @downbad4yoongi and @pars-ley for helping me bring this story to life by helping me along the way! This is my first time writing a story with supernatural elements, so there was a lot of research put into this one lol

Part 1: Threads of Twilight

Part 2: Embers of Midnight

Part 3: Radiance of Dawn (coming soon...)

[mrsparkjimin18]

Serendipity's Path: PJM Series Revamped

🌼pairing: non-idol!Jimin x f.reader

🌼au/genre: soulmates au, fluff with mild angst, possible strangers to lovers

🌼rating: pg-13

🌼total wc: 8912 

🌼warnings: mild angst and small mention of anxiety

🌼summary: In a city where chance encounters shape the future, you walk into a bookstore one fateful day, unaware that this seemingly ordinary moment will alter your life forever. There, amidst the smell of paper and quiet whispers of the shelves, you meet Jimin—your heart racing, your world shifting in an instant. The chemistry between you is undeniable, but your connection unfolds like an intricate puzzle, each piece drawing you closer but leaving you with questions.

As you stumble through the early stages of this unexpected romance, you begin to question whether fate has something more in store for you. The path ahead is clouded with doubt, longing, and the mystery of whether what you share is a fleeting spark or something destined to last.

From accidental meetings and long conversations over coffee to moments of bliss and tender promises, your journey with Jimin takes you to places you never imagined—both within yourself and in the world around you. Yet, as time passes and the intensity of your relationship deepens, you’re left wondering: how fragile is this love you’ve built together? Are the bonds of trust enough to weather the storm of insecurities that threaten to unravel it all?

As you navigate the tension, the connection between you both grows stronger, but so does the uncertainty. Are you truly meant to be, or is this love just a beautiful dream destined to fade?

You don’t know the answer yet, but with every step you take, you uncover more of the story—and you begin to wonder if your happily ever after might be closer than you think… or further out of reach than you ever imagined.

🌼special thanks to my beta reader: @moonleeai , for helping me revamp one of my first ever written stories (we will be the only ones to remember all of the cringe writing once it’s been replaced lol), you were definitely a huge help in bringing this old story back to life!!! 

part 1: Falling Into You

part 2: Love Found, Again

part 3: Hearts in Bloom

part 4: Forever Unfolding

[mrsparkjimin18]

part 4: forever unfolding

After returning from Paris a year ago, you and Jimin fall deeper in love than either of you had before. Your relationship grows stronger as you continue to explore life together, uncovering the intricacies of each other’s worlds. But the past few weeks feel different. Jimin is distant—working late nights, missing dinner plans, and seeming unusually anxious. A sinking doubt creeps into your thoughts – is he losing interest?

After nearly two years together, the intimacy between you has slowed to a crawl, and your once-effortless connection feels strained. The thought weighs heavy on your heart—is this the beginning of the end?

Tonight, however, you plan to address it. You’ll wait for him to come home, determined to get answers. As you scroll through your phone, debating whether to text or call, a message from Jimin pops up.

Jimin: Hey Love, what time are you going to bed tonight? You hesitate before responding. You: I’m not sure yet. Can we talk when you get home? Jimin: Talk? That sounds serious… Are you okay? You: Just come home earlier if you can. Please? Jimin: Actually, I’m already on my way. Be there in five.

You blink in surprise—he’s never home this early. A few minutes later, his cheerful voice echoes from the door.

“Honey, I’m home!”

He walks into the living room carrying a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a bottle of wine, his smile wide and inviting. A warmth spreads through your chest, washing away the doubt and worry that’s been building.

“Baby, you didn’t have to,” you say, unable to hide your smile.

Setting down the flowers and wine, he steps closer, cupping your face with both hands. “You deserve the world, but this is all I can give you right now. One day, I’ll give you everything you want and need. I promise.”

Tears prick at your eyes as he pulls you into a tight embrace. His voice softens as he whispers in your ear, “Hush, my love. Don’t cry. The last thing I want to see is tears because of me.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your forehead. “But what’s on your mind? You said we needed to talk?”

Looking up into his warm gaze, you stumble over your words. “I—I thought you were losing interest in me. We haven’t been spending as much time together, and… well, this. It’s not sadness. These are happy tears. How did I get so lucky to find a man like you?”

His smile broadens. “Lucky? I was the lucky one, standing in a bookstore with no direction when you walked into my life. It was fate, Love. Nothing less. I’ll give you everything I can, but first, I need you to meet me somewhere tomorrow evening. Can you do that for me?”

“Where?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

His lips curve into a soft smile. “At the bookstore. The place where it all began. Let’s meet there at 6 PM. Also…think you can wear my favorite dress? You know, the one with the deep neckline and your curves doing all the talking?”

You chuckle, nuzzling against his neck. “I’ll think about it.”

The next morning, you wake up to find a note on the pillow beside you:

Love, Don’t forget, we’re meeting later today at 6 PM. You know the place. Your Love, Jimin

When the evening comes, your excitement builds as you arrive at the bookstore. The warm glow of streetlights reflects off the glass, and you’re instantly transported back to the day you met. Nostalgia washes over you as you step inside, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. The space is dimly lit, save for a trail of soft lights leading toward the aisle where you first crossed paths with Jimin.

“Jimin?” you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the quiet.

“I’m here, Love,” he answers from around the corner.

He steps into view, and the sight takes your breath away. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, the fabric hugging his frame in a way that seems almost unfair. His shirt and tie are a matching deep black, the sleekness of his outfit elevating his natural elegance. His hair is styled just so, and the way he carries himself—confident, but with a hint of vulnerability—makes your knees weak.

How did I get so lucky to meet this man? You think, your heart swelling with gratitude. He’s my light in the dark, my calm in the chaos, my everything.

As he approaches, his warm gaze locks onto yours, and your heart flutters. He extends a hand. “Come with me,” he says, his voice low and steady.

He leads you to the exact spot where you first bumped into each other—your aisle. There’s a small table set up with flickering candles and a hardcover copy of your favorite book lying open, the pages illuminated in the soft glow. Your eyes widen as you notice the ring nestled between the pages, a dazzling solitaire sparkling under the lights.

Jimin kneels before you, his hands steady as they cradle yours. “From the moment I met you, I knew my life had changed forever. Every day since then has been better than the last, because of you. You’re my first thought in the morning, my last at night, and everything in between. I love you more than words can say, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me.”

Tears blur your vision as he looks up at you, his expression full of hope. “Love, will you give me the honor of calling you my wife?”

For a moment, time stands still, and then you nod, your voice breaking with emotion. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

He slips the ring onto your finger, his own eyes misty as he rises to pull you into his arms. The bookstore seems to dissolve around you as he kisses you, sealing the promise of forever.

After leaving the bookstore, Jimin leads you to an intimate, upscale steakhouse tucked away on a quiet street. The atmosphere is nothing short of magical—candles flicker softly on every table, casting a golden glow that dances across the rich mahogany walls. The scent of roasted herbs and seared meats mingles with a faint hint of fresh roses from the arrangements adorning the tables. A violinist in the corner plays a soft, romantic melody that flows through the air like a tender whisper.

Jimin places his hand lightly on the small of your back as you enter, guiding you to your table. “Only the best for my fiancée,” he murmurs, his tone warm and teasing.

At your table, he pulls out your chair with effortless grace, his thoughtfulness bringing a smile to your lips. As he takes his seat across from you, you can’t help but marvel at how the warm candlelight softens his features, highlighting the faint curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes.

The meal begins with an array of exquisite appetizers—seared scallops drizzled with truffle oil and a creamy butternut squash soup that’s velvety and rich. Jimin watches you with a smile as you take your first sip.

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim softly, savoring the flavor. “This might be the best soup I’ve ever had.”

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “I thought so too when I first came here. I’ve been saving this place for a special occasion. Turns out I underestimated how special tonight would be.”

Your cheeks flush, and you set down your spoon, laughing lightly. “You really didn’t hold back with the surprises tonight, did you?”

“Not at all,” he replies, his voice low and tender. “You deserve a night like this—a night that’s as beautiful and unforgettable as you are.”

The main course arrives—a perfectly cooked steak for him and herb-crusted salmon for you, accompanied by a medley of roasted vegetables. Each bite is a revelation, and the conversation flows as easily as the wine poured into your glasses.

“This salmon is incredible,” you say, your fork poised mid-air. “Did you know I love salmon, or was this just a lucky guess?”

Jimin grins, tilting his head in mock contemplation. “I might’ve done a little research. Turns out you’ve mentioned it a couple of times. What can I say? I listen.”

You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “You really do, don’t you? I can’t believe how perfect tonight is.”

As the violinist transitions into a rendition of La Vie En Rose, Jimin’s gaze softens. “It’s perfect because of you,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a sincerity that sends a flutter through your chest.

By the time dessert arrives—a decadent chocolate soufflé served with fresh berries—you feel as though you’re floating. Jimin reaches across the table to take your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

“I’ll never forget tonight,” you say, your voice tinged with awe.

“Neither will I,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours. “Because tonight is the beginning of forever.”

The meal was exquisite, but the way Jimin hung on your every word, how he anticipated your needs before you even realized them yourself, that truly made this night even more extraordinary. Every moment feels like a perfect note in a love song written just for you two.

As dinner concludes, he surprises you yet again,

“There’s one more thing,” Jimin says, his eyes twinkling with excitement. 

He leads you outside, and you take a short walk to a nearby banquet hall. Your breath catches as the doors open, revealing a room filled with your closest family and friends. A slideshow of your journey together plays on a loop on a large projector screen. Pictures of the two of you—laughing, traveling, simply being in love—flash by, each memory more beautiful than the last.

The space is decorated in your favorite color, purple, with delicate lavender and plum tones woven into every detail—from the flower arrangements to the table settings. The tables are adorned with flickering candles and delicate accents that radiate romance. Music plays softly in the background, setting the perfect mood for the celebration. Your friends greet you with hugs and laughter, while your parents wipe away tears of joy.

Jimin wraps an arm around your waist, his smile never fading. “Did I do okay?” he whispers, his voice laced with nerves.

You tilt your head, pretending to ponder, before grinning. “More than okay. It’s perfect.”

Later, as you sway in Jimin’s arms on the dance floor, you realize how much love and thought he put into creating this night. It’s not just an engagement party—it’s a celebration of everything you’ve built together and the life you’ll share moving forward.

“Thank you for loving me the way you do,” you murmur against his chest.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for saying yes. I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

Tears well in your eyes, overwhelmed by the effort and love he’s poured into every moment of this evening. After a few songs, you leave the dance floor to mingle with your guests before pulling Jimin into the hallway.

“You planned all of this without knowing if I’d say yes?” you tease, your voice playful but laced with emotion.

His confident grin lights up his face. “I knew. From the moment we met, I knew. We were meant to be, Love.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you whisper, “I love you, Jimin.”

“And I love you,” he replies, sealing his promise with a kiss.

As the two of you return to the party, surrounded by the people you love most, you realize that this isn’t just the beginning of forever—in that moment, surrounded by everyone who matters most, you know you’ve found your forever.

[mrsparkjimin18]

part 3: hearts in bloom

Six months had passed, and mornings at Jimin’s apartment had become a cherished ritual. His scent—subtle hints of cedarwood and citrus mixed with fresh laundry—clung to the sheets as sunlight filtered through the wall of windows.

The man you’d met half a year ago was still every bit the gentleman, though his restraint was deliberate. He wasn’t without desire—you’d felt it in the way his kisses deepened, in the way his hands lingered on your waist—but he had chosen to savor each moment with you, waiting for the right time to take things further.

By now, you had a drawer for your clothes, your favorite snacks in his kitchen, and your toiletries lined up in his bathroom cabinet. His home felt like an extension of yours, and neither of you seemed to mind.

One evening, as the two of you cuddled on his couch, Jimin shifted to face you, his eyes bright with anticipation. “So,” he began, his voice laced with excitement, “you know what’s coming up soon, right?”

You tilted your head curiously. “What’s coming up?”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Our six-month anniversary? Ring any bells?”

Your cheeks warmed as you laughed. “Of course I remember! But I wasn’t expecting you to bring it up like this.”

“Well, I thought it was the perfect time to give you something.” He reached over to the coffee table and revealed a small, neatly wrapped box. The shiny purple paper glinted under the soft light.

“Jimin, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you said, though your heart raced at the gesture.

“Of course I did,” he replied with a smile. “Open it.”

You carefully unwrapped the box, revealing an envelope inside. Opening it, you found two plane tickets to Paris. Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him in disbelief. “Paris? Are you serious?”

He grinned. “Completely. I know you’ve talked about wanting to travel, and I thought…why not make it happen? I booked it a couple of weeks ago and figured our anniversary was the perfect time to surprise you.”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes. “Jimin, I don’t even know what to say. This is the most incredible thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Say you’ll come with me,” he said softly, his hand brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Of course I’ll come with you!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his neck. “I can’t believe this. Paris, Jimin… this is like a dream.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression tender. “It’s not a dream. It’s real, and I wanted to share it with you. You deserve the world.”

The sincerity in his voice melted you, and all you could do was nod, too overwhelmed to speak.

When the day finally arrived, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip would be more than just a vacation—it felt like the start of something even deeper.

The morning of your departure was a blur of excitement. Jimin woke you early, his usual calm composure tinged with an eagerness that made you smile. He triple-checked your luggage, made sure you had your passport and all the essentials, and kept glancing at the clock as though counting down the minutes until your adventure began.

Hours later, you sat side by side on the plane, the soft hum of the engines filling the cabin. Jimin dozed off next to you, his features relaxed and serene in the muted glow from the window. You found yourself studying the gentle curve of his jaw, the delicate arch of his brow, and the slight pout of his lips.

Your thoughts drifted back to one evening a few weeks ago. Jimin held your hand, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. “I just want everything to be perfect,” he’d murmured, his voice low and sincere as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you deserve nothing less.”

That moment had stayed with you, a tender memory you held close as you looked at him now. His calm presence beside you was a comfort, and though the journey ahead was just beginning, you already knew this trip would become a chapter in your life you’d never forget.

Feeling the steady rhythm of the plane and lulled by the warmth of Jimin’s presence, your eyes grew heavy. The excitement of the morning began to catch up with you, and before you knew it, you were resting your head against his shoulder, drifting into a light, peaceful sleep. The last thing you remembered was the soothing cadence of his breathing, a quiet promise of the unforgettable moments waiting for you both.

You woke up as the pilot announced the plane would be arriving at your destination in twenty minutes. You stretched and realized Jimin was already awake.

“Oh, the sleepy head finally wakes up, huh?” he chuckled.

As the plane began deboarding, he grabbed your carry-ons from the overhead compartment, and you followed him happily. 

After clearing customs and retrieving your luggage at the baggage claim, a sharply dressed chauffeur greeted you with a warm smile, holding a sign with your name. He led you to a sleek black car that whisked you through the city streets to a private villa.

The villa was stunning—a blend of rustic charm and modern luxury. You unpacked quickly, eager to explore the home and its beautiful grounds, before freshening up and changing into comfortable clothes for a day of sightseeing.

Your first stop was the Louvre. Jimin led you through the grand halls, his awe at the masterpieces contagious. But as you stole glances at him—his wide eyes, the soft curve of his lips as he smiled—you realized the art couldn’t hold a candle to him.

“Are you not enjoying this?” he asked, catching your gaze. “You seem distracted. Do you want to leave?”

Your cheeks flushed as you shook your head. “No, I’m just... captivated by the view,” you said, your voice softer than you intended.

He tilted his head, a playful smile forming. “Stop, you’re making me blush.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you. His lips found yours, warm and insistent, and when his tongue gently parted your lips, the world seemed to fade. Your knees nearly buckled, but his hold steadied you, grounding you in the moment.

As he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your heartbeat.

Your own confession spilled out, unbidden but true. “I already have, Jimin. I love you.”

He pulled back slightly, his deep brown eyes searching yours. “I love you too,” he murmured, his smile wide and genuine before he kissed you again.

The two of you continued wandering the museum, hand in hand, the art around you almost forgotten. This was more than just a vacation – it was the beginning of something that felt life-changing.

[mrsparkjimin18]

part 2: love found, again

“How could I let her get away? ” Jimin muttered to himself, running a hand over his face as he left work. Constantly throughout his day, you’d been on his mind – your easy laugh, the spark in your eyes, and an unapologetic, carefree personality. You were someone he hadn’t expected yesterday but instantly connected with. And he’d forgotten to ask for your number. “I finally meet someone who feels…right…and I just walk away? Rookie mistake, Jimin.”

He left work and considered his options as he walked, jacket slung over his shoulder. Show up at your apartment? That felt like it would cross into stalker territory. Sitting at the cafe across from the bookstore, hoping you’d pass by? Creepy, by anybody’s standards.

Then it hit him – the bookstore. It was a long shot, the odds of you returning the next day were slim to none, but it was worth the try and the only option he had. 

He changed direction and headed straight for the shop. When he arrived, he spotted the same cashier from the previous day at the check-out counter, casually flipping through a magazine. He approached her, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” he began.

She looked up with mild annoyance on her face, her eyes narrowed until she recognized him. Her expression softened – if only for a second – and her gaze lingered, glimmering curiosity in her eyes.

But as soon as he continued, “Have you seen the woman I was with yesterday? I…I didn’t get her number, and I thought maybe she’d come back here,” the hint of a smile on her face quickly faded into a frown.

With a dramatic sigh, she raised an eyebrow. “You’re the third guy this month to try that,” she said dryly. “No, I haven’t seen her.” She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, and turned back to her magazine, flicking the pages with an exaggerated disinterest.

Jimin lingered in the store, pacing the aisles, his eyes darting to the door every time he heard the entry bell chime. He waited nearly thirty minutes, each minute stretching longer than the last, as his hope faded.

Just as he was about to give up, another idea struck him – a way to make sure if you did come back, you’d know he’d been there. His pulse quickened as he returned to the counter, catching the clerk's attention.

“Would it be alright if I left something here for her?” he asked, his hopeful smile meeting her skeptical gaze.

The clerk stared at him, clearly unamused, before releasing an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

“Could I…also borrow a piece of paper?” Jimin asked, giving her an apologetic smile.

Her eyebrows shot up, clearly irritated. She slowly shook her head, reached under the counter, pulled out a blank piece of paper, and practically shoved it across the counter toward him. She leaned on one hand, tapping her fingers, her face made it clear she thought it was a waste of her time. 

Jimin ignored her irritation and focused on carefully writing down a short message and his number. He folded the paper neatly and handed it to the clerk.

“If she returns, can you please give this to her?”

The clerk rolled her eyes but took the paper with a begrudging nod and tucked it beside the register without a word. Jimin gave her a grateful smile and left the bookstore, hoping he’d done enough.

The next morning, you woke up and started your day like any other – Cafe latte, shower, brushed your teeth, dressed, and headed to the transit station to catch the train to work. The only difference was you had a little more pep in your step – you couldn't stop thinking about Jimin. He made you smile, not just laugh and giggle, but truly smile, ear to ear, with genuine happiness. He seemed to have such a gentle soul, and he was a true gentleman – most men would have taken advantage of the chemistry you both felt. But he didn't, and you liked that about him. You were determined to find him today and made it your mission to do just that.

After work, you decided to head back to the bookstore, it was the place where you’d met him and hoped maybe he’d be there waiting for you. When you finally arrived, you went straight to the aisle where you’d seen him last, but he wasn't there. You perused the bookshelves, running your fingers along the spines and taking in the familiar, musty scent of old pages – it reminded you of your first encounter with him. From time to time, you glanced toward the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of him walking through the door. After about thirty minutes of browsing, there was still no sign of him. 

Feeling defeated, you wondered if maybe he was the “Mr. Right” you’d been looking for – and that you’d let him slip away. Silently, you told yourself that if it was meant to be, you’d see him again. 

With a sigh, you headed to the counter to purchase a couple of books you grabbed. The clerk was listening to her headphones, oblivious to your presence, so you slid your books further on the counter. She looked slightly annoyed at first but then smiled. 

"Did you leave here with Jimin yesterday?" she asked. 

You thought it was a weird question, but you answered anyway, "Yes…How did you know?" 

With a slight frown, she scanned the counter’s surface for something. Dissatisfied, she crouched and peered under the counter, her hands reaching out to feel around. After a moment, she straightened up, reached into her back pocket, and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper.

"He left this for you, in case you came in today. And I put it in my back pocket, in case you didn't." She winked at you and went back to listening to her music. You paid for your books with cash and left without taking the change.

You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped inside, slipped off your shoes and set your bag on the entryway table. The familiar scent of your space welcomed you, but today it felt different – charged with anticipation. You made your way to the couch, the note now nearly crumpled in your hand.

Sitting down, you placed the paper on the coffee table and took a moment to gather your thoughts. Nervous energy coursed through you, and a bead of sweat formed on your forehead as you unfolded the note.

“Hey Love, I didn’t get the chance to say half the things I wanted to last night, and I kept running over everything I could’ve said as I was heading home. Even if we never meet again, I’ll tell my children and grandchildren the story about the one that got away. Maybe it’s because I haven’t met someone like you in… well, longer than I’d care to admit. I mean, meeting you felt kind of like discovering the rarest book tucked away on a dusty shelf.

You paused, chuckling softly. “A rare book? Really Jimin?” you muttered, amused by his earnestness. Shaking your head, you continued reading.

Anyway, I’ve been wondering what kind of book you picked up last night or if you even got the one you were looking for before I clumsily fell on top of you. (Not exactly the first impression I planned, by the way, but I guess I wouldn’t change it now.) If you’re up for it, I’d love to make up for last night’s chaotic ending. This weekend (Saturday to be specific), there’s a restaurant I love, just a small hole in the wall, nothing fancy. 6 PM. Corner booth(It's the only corner booth). Dress comfortably, not dressy, casual is perfect. Please just trust that I have nothing but good intentions. Hopefully, this letter has reached you, I’ll wait patiently for your call(since I’m leaving my number at the end) or text, whichever is comfortable for you. Take care, —Jimin P.S. Here’s my number: 101-395-0613.

You laughed again as you read his quirky descriptions, especially about telling his future kids the story of “the one that got away.” “So dramatic,” you chuckled to yourself, but the sentiment tugged at your heart.

Each word was etched into your mind as you read it over and over again, your excitement growing with every line. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered increasingly wildly every time you reached the end.

“Dress comfortably, not dressy. Well, this should be interesting,” you murmur aloud, a thrill of anticipation building for Saturday. You set the note aside, a smile spread across your face, and your heart raced imagining the possibilities of what was to come. That night you slept peacefully, your entire being felt an overwhelmingly strong sense of peace and calm.

Rather than messaging him immediately, you decided to give yourself time to think. As tempted as you were to reach out, another part of you decided it was best not to seem too eager. Besides, it allowed time to sort out exactly what you wanted to say – something casual yet genuine, capturing just the right tone to keep things light and playful.

The next day at work was a marathon of meetings, presentations, and a draw-out team dinner that lasted forever. Every hour felt like three, and by the time you finally left, you were more than ready to unwind.

Finally at home, you changed into something cozy, made yourself a cup of tea, and stared at your phone. The screen felt like a door – one text away from reopening the spark you’d felt with him.

After a deep breath, you typed the first words that came to mind.

Tuesday Evening Love: Hey, Jimin! Got your note yesterday, but needed time to think of what to say. Are you planning some secret adventure? 😄 Jimin: Haha, nothing too wild, I promise! Maybe you should bring an ‘emergency’ bag? What if the restaurant closes and we’re not ready to end the epic conversation? I promise I have only good intentions 😉 Love: Epic conversation? Is that what we’re calling it now? Jimin: Absolutely! I’m pretty sure we broke some kind of record for awkward introductions. 😂 Love: Fair point! But what if I end up regretting my wardrobe choices? Jimin: Trust me, you’ll look great no matter what. Just be comfortable!

You laughed, tucking your legs under you on the couch. His texts had a way of making you feel at ease, like you’d known him for years instead of mere days.

The office buzzed with its usual midweek chaos, but in between tasks, you found yourself grinning at your phone, your thoughts drifting back to him. During lunch, you couldn’t resist picking up the conversation where you’d left off.

Wednesday Afternoon Love: Okay, I’m seriously considering bringing my favorite pajamas now. They’re super comfy! Jimin: Pajamas?! Pre-planning to spend the night at my place? 😳 Love: Just making sure I’m ready for a surprise slumber party! Jimin: If I promise not to start a pillow fight, will you bring them? Love: Only if you bring out the best blankets for fort-building! Jimin: Challenge accepted!

You chuckled, your coworkers giving you curious glances as you tried to suppress your grin. Each text felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, building something that felt increasingly natural.

The morning sunlight spilled into your kitchen as you nursed your first cup of coffee. Before heading out the door, you fired off a quick message, curious to learn more about him.

Thursday Morning Love: So, do you have a favorite book genre? You know, to help me prepare for our conversation? Jimin: Definitely! I’m a sucker for magical realism. You? Love: I’m more of a fantasy lover, but I’m open to suggestions! Jimin: We can start a mini book club! I’ll recommend my favorite magical realism, and you can tell me why dragons are better than fairies. Love: Fair enough! But you might be surprised by how persuasive I can be.

You smiled, tucking your phone into your bag before heading to work. His responses stayed with you throughout the day, replaying in your mind and leaving you looking forward to the next exchange.

The week had flown by in a whirlwind of playful texts and growing anticipation. You stared at your packed bag sitting by the door, it finally hit you – tomorrow was the day.

You picked up your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen before typing.

Friday Evening Love: Tomorrow’s the day! I don’t know about you, but I feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Jimin: Same here! But mostly excitement. Think of it as a mini adventure! Love: Right! Should I worry about any hidden agenda?  Jimin: The only agenda you’ll discover is my love for bad puns. 😏 Love: Oh no, I’m definitely going to regret bringing those pajamas now!

You laughed softly, shaking your head at his response. Somehow, Jimin had a way of making you forget your nerves and embrace the excitement. With every exchange, it felt like you were peeling back another layer of him, and you couldn’t wait to see where this would lead.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Saturday made its long-awaited arrival, and you woke up feeling so many emotions. You immediately began going over a timeline in your head – one thing was for certain, you had to make it there on time because you didn't want him to have to wait any longer than he already had. 

You ran hot water into the tub and poured a generous amount of lavender oil. The scent filled the room as you sank into the warm, bubbly water. You closed your eyes and allowed the calming oil to relax you. After you finished washing up, you slipped into a pair of boy shorts, comfy joggers, and a tank top before slipping on a comfy cashmere sweater. 

You double-checked your overnight bag, making sure you had your favorite pajamas, some slippers, and anything else you could fit into your overnight bag if the night extended beyond the restaurant. You didn't want to overpack and look as if you planned to go to his house or lug around a heavy bag on the subway, but you didn’t want to forget the essentials.

Love: Today’s the day! Any last-minute advice? Jimin: Don’t overthink it. Just be yourself. And bring that gorgeous smile. 😁 Love: You’re making me blush! Jimin: Good! That’s my goal. Can’t wait to see you later! Love: Can’t wait! I’ll be the one looking slightly panicked headed toward the corner booth. Jimin: No panic allowed! Just fun and laughter. See you soon!

You took a taxi, because you weren’t familiar with the area you were heading to and didn't want to risk getting lost. When you arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes early you thought it’d be cute to surprise Jimin when he arrived. Unexpectedly, he was already at the booth waiting. 

"Fancy meeting you here," you said with a wink. "Why are you so early?" 

His cheeks blushed, and he softly replied, " I didn't want to risk being late myself, so I left earlier than I needed to." 

You sat in the half-circle booth next to him, breathing in the scent of his cologne – warm amber undertone, a touch of citrus and vanilla to top it off. He smelled so good, you wanted to rest your head on his shoulder and enjoy the aroma. 

"You’re quiet," he said, "How’s your week been? Did you get enough rest?" His questions were innocent, yet they seemed full of more than just the question itself. 

"I have and I haven't. There were the first two nights after we met that I got nearly no sleep at all, but the last four nights I’ve slept well. Honestly, your letter and our conversations throughout the week helped me sleep." 

His eyes were fixated on your mouth, and when he looked up to meet your gaze, his cheeks pinked, but that didn’t stop him from leaning toward you and planting a soft kiss on your lips. Your body felt like putty melting from the heat that coursed through your body as his plush lips pressed against yours.

“That was…nice.” You immediately regretted the stupid statement.

“Nice? I’m saving the good stuff for later,” he chuckled. “How about we order?”

He signaled the waitress over, letting you order first before he added his food.

“That was delicious! Honestly, better than I expected it to be!” 

“I could tell.” He smirked, “You like to do a little happy dance when you’re eating something you enjoy, don’t you?”

“I’ve done my happy dance for so long, I don’t realize when I’m doing it, but now I feel embarrassed.” Your cheeks burned as you avoided eye contact.

“I think it’s cute,” he said as he gently cupped your chin in his hand.

Your eyes met and you couldn’t explain the feeling you felt every time you looked at him, an invisible force drawing you closer.

“Why are you so sweet?” you asked, keeping eye contact.

“Only for you,” he said with a wink and smile. “I see you opted to bring the overnight bag which is perfect, because I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to my apartment, it’s not far from here. Maybe we can watch a movie and have some wine or whatever you’d prefer." 

“We can do that and play the night by ear, you know, if I’m comfortable, then maybe I’ll stay.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He said before ordering a taxi.

On the way out, he stopped at the register and paid for the dinner before he lifted your overnight bag and hung it over his shoulder.

“Oh, you don’t have to carry that, it’s a little heavy.” You said as you attempted to take it back.

“What kind of man would I be if I let you carry this?” he said as he opened the door and waited for you to exit first.

With a bratty huff, you complied.

"Soooo, what should we watch? I’ll watch anything." 

"Same, I’m not picky. Just nothing too corny, I don’t like predictable love story type movies." 

“Noted.” Just then, the taxi arrived, and he opened the door for you, “Ladies first.” 

The ride was quiet, the only sound was the music quietly playing from the speakers. When the car stopped, you realized he lived in a high rise, a huge distinction from the brownstone townhouse you live in. Jimin swiped a card at the entrance, and the doors opened, leading into a grand lobby where the concierge greeted him by name. He swiped his card again for the elevator, and you both entered once it arrived. The doors closed behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the small metal box as it ascended to the twenty-fifth floor. You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking as you stood side by side in silence once again.

When the doors opened, you stepped directly into Jimin’s apartment. The sight was breathtaking – it wasn’t just an apartment but a masterpiece of modern luxury. The open concept made the large apartment appear endless, and the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across an entire wall, offering an astonishing view of Central Park. The vibrant red, yellow and orange of the trees were a beautiful contrast against the backdrop of the city skyline, perfect scenery almost too good to be true.

The layout was not only sleek, but inviting, a seamless blend of comfort and sophistication. His bedroom was meticulously placed in the center of the vast space, sectioned off partially by a stylish glass partition and sheer curtains that could be drawn for privacy. The minimalist style bed was draped in soft gray linens, perfectly matching the neutral tones that dominated the apartment.

To the side of the bedroom area was a cozy space for relaxation. A plush sectional sofa faced a state-of-the-art entertainment system, a large coffee table in the middle with neatly placed books and magazines added a personal touch, while a few abstract art pieces adorned the walls, adding subtle pops of color to the otherwise muted palette.

The kitchen flowed effortlessly into the living space, separated only by a sleek marble island that glimmered under the soft glow of pendant lights. The stainless steel appliances and matte black cabinetry gave it a modern edge, while the faint aroma of fresh coffee hinted that the space was as functional as it was beautiful.

Aside from the vastness of the apartment, everything felt intentional, every detail reflecting what appeared to be the refined taste of the man you were still getting to know. It wasn’t just ginormous – it was breathtaking.

Jimin set your bag next to the door and walked to the kitchen, “So, what would you like to drink?”

You knelt down to dig through your bag for your slippers, “what do you have?” you asked, pretending you didn’t notice the wine chiller built-in to the island.

“Well, I have wine, craft beer, soda, juice and water. Feel free to help yourself when you’re ready? The glasses are in here,” he said as he pointed to a cabinet next to the refrigerator. “Then come meet me at the sectional.”

You finally found your slippers and made your way to the kitchen, gladly noticing that he already opened a bottle of wine, so you helped yourself to a glass.

You sat at the end of the sectional, still taking all of the apartment in as he browsed through Netflix. You could feel his eyes burrowing a hole in the side of your head, so you turned and looked at him.

“You don’t have to sit so far away, I don’t bite…unless you want me to?” He joked, yet his facial expression gave the impression he was a little disappointed.

You scooched on the couch until you were beside him and rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his one arm around you, while he continued browsing Netflix with the opposite hand, his fingers traced circles softly on your arm.

“Found one,” he stated proudly. “The Notebook, as you know it’s one of my favorite movies, and you need to see what you’ve been missing. Trust me…you’ll thank me later, only if it’s okay with you.”

“Fine, fine, you’ve convinced me.” You chuckled. 

Every once in a while, you’d glance up at him to study his features – the sharp angle of his jawline, the softness of his plump lips, the way his dark eyes seemed to hold a warmth that made you feel seen in a way no one ever had before. You found yourself wondering how it would feel to close the metaphoric distance between you, letting the magnetic pull of his sheer presence guide you closer.

As if reading your thoughts, he turned and met your gaze, his expression softening. Without a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing your eyelids as tender as a feather. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, and he trailed gentle kisses down your nose before his lips finally met yours.

He kissed you slowly at first, his warmth grounding you in the moment. Then, with deliberate care, his tongue parted your lips, exploring with a soft intensity that left you breathless. He pulled back, the faint taste of him lingered on your tongue, leaving you craving more. 

You didn’t wait for him to kiss you again – leaning into him instead, your hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders, gripping him as if you’re afraid he might vanish. He pulled you closer, laying you back against the cushions as his body pressed firmly against yours. Even fully clothed, the sensation of him between your thighs sent a wave of heat through your entire being. His lips didn’t relent, kissing you deeper, hungrier, as his hips shifted against you, igniting a fire in your core. Just as the tension was nearly unraveling you completely, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. With uneven breaths, he whispered softly, “That’s enough for now. Let’s finish the movie, hmm?”

You blinked at him, dazed, the fire still burning in your veins, but his gaze – tender, patient – made you nod. “Okay,” you murmured, settling back against the sofa as he repositioned himself back into his spot of the sectional.

He pulled you into his arms, his hand gently stroking your back as you tried to refocus on the television. The movie continued playing, though you could hardly follow the plot. His presence was magnetic, his warmth both soothing and electrifying. Occasionally, he’d press a kiss to the top of your head or whisper a quiet comment about the film, and each small gesture felt intimate in a way that made your heart race.

By the time the credits rolled, your body felt weightless, utterly relaxed in his embrace. He tilted his head down, brushing a kiss across your temple. “Come on,” he said softly, his voice warm and inviting. “Let’s get some rest.”

He stood, offering you his hand. You let him pull you to your feet, his fingers lacing with yours as he led you to his bed. The room was quiet, the city lights casting a faint glow through the sheer curtains. He pulled back the covers and motioned for you to lie down before sliding in beside you.

With your head resting on his chest, his steady heartbeat was the only sound you could hear. His arm wrapped around you, holding you close as his hand traced lazy circles against your back. The warmth of him, the way he held you like you were something precious, made it easy to close your eyes and drift into sleep, the promise of tomorrow lingering in the air.

The next morning, the comforting aroma of coffee and the sweet scent of pancakes gently pulled you from sleep. You stretched lazily, the events of last night swirling back into focus.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Jimin called, his voice warm and inviting. He stood at the stove, clad only in a pair of night shorts, the toned lines of his back drawing your eyes. Your breath caught as you noticed the intricate moon phase tattoo running down his spine, each phase delicately shaded to perfection. It added an unexpected layer of allure, a small glimpse into a part of him you were eager to learn more about.

The sight of him flipping pancakes with ease was almost surreal. The golden scent of batter mingled with the bold aroma of coffee, wrapping the space in a cozy warmth. You couldn’t help but sink deeper into the pillows, savoring the intimacy of the moment, the way his space felt like a safe haven.

"I hope you're hungry," he added, glancing over his shoulder to flash you a boyish smile. The morning light streaming through the windows highlighted the sharp angles of his face and the softness in his eyes.

You couldn’t believe you were here, sharing this quiet, perfect moment. It was unfamiliar territory—being with someone who didn’t rush, who was happy to just exist alongside you. The thought brought a faint blush to your cheeks as you lingered in his bed, your gaze tracing the tattoo on his back and the way his muscles moved with effortless grace.

He was talking about something, his melodic voice filling the space between you, but his words were lost on you. All you could think about was how surreal it felt, how right it felt, and where this slow-blooming connection might lead.

[mrsparkjimin18]

part 1: falling into you

Sundays were your day for quiet routines and small pleasures, so every week, without fail, you’d head to the bookstore to add yet another title to your growing collection of unread books. It didn’t matter that you already owned more books than you could read – there was a comforting thrill in discovering what new stories the shelves held, just waiting for the right moment to be opened.

As you wandered from aisle to aisle, letting your fingers graze the spines, something unusual caught your attention. The first thing you noticed, in the corner of the next aisle, was a guy standing there, with an expression mixed between thoughtful and sad – and given your track record, avoidance was your first instinct. On the other hand, he was undeniably cute, but before you could look away, he made eye contact. There was something captivating about his gaze, holding you from across the aisle, leaving you momentarily spellbound as he approached.

He smiled and said, "Need help looking for something?" 

You blushed, "I think I just found it." 

A bashful grin spread across his face, flushing his cheeks with a rosy hue. His hand instinctively rose to rub at the back of his neck, a sure sign of his nervousness.

"Oh goodness! Did you think I meant you?" A touch of amusement colored your voice as you noticed his brief confusion. "No, no," you clarified with a smile, gesturing toward the object behind him. "You're standing right in front of what I was looking for." 

As you reached over his shoulder, you couldn’t help but notice the flawless smoothness of his skin. The scent of his cologne – a subtle blend of woodsy notes mixed with a hint of citrus –  wafted toward you, captivating and mildly intoxicating. You felt yourself losing your balance as you were enveloped in its embrace and momentarily lost in its pull. He tried to steady you, but both of you ended up losing your footing, landing together with a soft thud, his chest pressing against yours. He met your gaze and said, "I'm Jimin, by the way." 

You laughed, “It’s a pleasure meeting you this way, Jimin…my close friends call me ‘Love’ and this is about as close as friends can get.” As the realization dawned on him, he quickly scrambled off of you and extended a hand to help you up. The next words to come out of your mouth surprised you.

"So, should we grab some coffee across the street? Most people offer a drink before heading straight to second base." 

His grin stretched so wide that it seemed to swallow his eyes, and he lowered his head in embarrassment.  "You don’t have to get shy now���we’re literally halfway to meeting each other's parents.” Unable to hold your amusement inside, you let out a deep, throaty laugh. 

Your carefree aura must’ve made him feel comfortable, as Jimin agreed to head across the street for coffee. Inside the cozy cafe, conversation flowed easily as you sipped your drinks, sharing stories and laughter.

At one point, he looked genuinely baffled as he asked. “Wait?! How have you never seen The Notebook?” he asked, eyes wide with bewilderment.

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’s just one of those movies everyone talks about, so I figured I already knew the story…Boy meets girl, they fall in love, there’s drama and a bunch of rain-soaked kisses…I think I get the gist.”

He shook his head, grinning. “You’re missing the whole experience. The rain-soaked kiss is practically a rite of passage!”

You leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’ve done the whole ‘kiss in the rain’ thing?”

“Maybe,” he said, attempting to look mysterious. “But, for you, it’ll remain a secret until our second or third coffee date.”

“Confident, are we?” you teased. 

Hours passed as you traded more stories, discovering that you both lived near Central Park, although he lived on the opposite end. He insisted on walking you home, since your house was closer, to which you agreed and continued to share laughs as you strolled under the streetlights.

Upon reaching your front door, he hesitated and glanced down shyly before meeting your gaze. “Is this going to be considered our first date?” He paused, his cheeks slightly pink. “Because if it is, I’d like to-”

Without missing a beat, you reached up, grabbed Jimin’s face, and pulled him in for a kiss, catching him by surprise as he melted into it, kissing you back just as passionately. The intensity between you was undeniable, the type of spark you could feel in your fingertips. But before it could get any deeper, he gently pulled away, breathless but composed.

"I'm not that type of guy,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We should take things slow, whatever things may be. When it happens, whatever it is that may happen, I want it to be perfect.”

He pulled you into a warm embrace, his lips brushing against your cheek before he let go. “Get some rest,” he said softly, his gaze lingered momentarily. Then, with a smile and a wave, he walked away, disappearing down the street.

As you stepped inside, you felt a giddy excitement with a hint of confusion at how the night had ended. You kicked off your shoes and wandered to the bathroom, letting the warm shower wash away the lingering tension of the evening. Afterward, you wrapped yourself in a soft terry towel and poured a generous glass of red wine, hoping it would help you unwind a bit.

Settled onto the couch, you picked up a book that had been gathering dust on your coffee table. The familiar scent of the pages was comforting, and you tried to lose yourself in the story. But the words blurred together as your mind drifted back to Jimin – the way he’d smiled, the softness of his kiss, and that playful banter over coffee.

You flipped a page, your thoughts wandering to how easy it had felt to talk to him, when suddenly it struck you like a bolt of lightning – you hadn’t exchanged numbers! Your heart dropped as the realization sank in. In the rush of that perfect moment, you’d forgotten the simplest detail that could have connected you again.

Setting the book aside, you sighed, the thrill of the evening now tinged with frustration. What if he thought you weren’t interested? The thought of hoping and waiting for another chance made you restless. You picked up your phone, almost willing it to ring, but there was only silence.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back into the couch, swirling the wine in your glass as you replayed the night in your mind, hoping that somehow, fate would intervene.

[mrsparkjimin18]

(cr. ouranxingg)

[mrsparkjimin18]

Escape

[mrsparkjimin18]

Escape

[mrsparkjimin18]

Escape

[mrsparkjimin18]

part 3: uncertain fate

You had chosen love over duty, and for the first time, you and Jimin shared everything—your fears, your hopes, and your desire for a future where neither of you was a pawn in a game of power. Together, you vowed to dismantle the schemes of your father and bring peace and prosperity to both kingdoms. That night, you felt the weight of your decision settle heavily upon your shoulders, but for the first time, you felt at peace, knowing Jimin stood by your side.

In the weeks that followed, Jimin's father grew weaker by the day, his health rapidly deteriorating. The kingdom was in a state of uncertainty, and though the people were unaware of the gravity of the king’s illness, you and Jimin saw the opportunity. His father’s impending death gave you both the time to devise a new plan—one that would not only save you both but rid the Kim Kingdom of the tyranny that had plagued it for so long.

As you, Jimin, and your brother sat together in the secluded palace garden, the weight of your decisions loomed over you, but there was also a flicker of hope. "When my father passes," Jimin said softly, his hand entwined with yours, "I'll become king. And that will be our chance." Your brother listened, a thoughtful look on his face, aware of the gravity of the moment.

You nodded, understanding the enormity of what lay ahead. "We’ll have to make it look real," you replied. "My father will expect me to kill you. He needs to believe the plan succeeded if we want to catch him off guard."

Jimin’s eyes met yours, filled with the quiet resolve you had come to admire. "My most trusted guards and statesmen will know the truth. They’ll help us stage everything. We can even make it look like you were forced into it."

Just then, your brother, who had been listening intently, interjected, “And I will help,” determination shining in his eyes. “I’ve spoken with some trusted statesmen from our kingdom who are disillusioned with our father’s rule. They are ready to join us to bring about the change we need.”

A sense of dread mixed with determination washed over you. "But what if things go wrong? What if my father suspects something?"

Jimin squeezed your hand reassuringly. "We’ll have our defenses in place. If we act decisively, we can turn the tide. We must be bold. The fate of our kingdoms depends on it."

Your brother nodded in agreement, adding, "We have to be careful, but if we execute this right, we can dismantle the old power structure together."

As the days passed, the illness took its final toll, and one cold morning, the King of the Silla breathed his last. Jimin ascended to the throne, and though the grief of losing his father weighed on him, he remained focused on the greater task at hand—dismantling the power structure that had led your father down this dark path.

The days following the coronation were as tense as you, Jimin, and your brother strategized your plan. With the help of Jimin’s loyal guards and statesmen, as well as your brother’s trusted advisors, the three of you meticulously laid out the details—one where it appeared you had done the unthinkable.

During those days, you huddled in secret meetings, your voices hushed but urgent. “We need to ensure everything looks convincing,” your brother said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Blood must pool as if it were real, and timing is crucial.”

Jimin nodded, determination etched on his face. “I’ll need to fall convincingly. The guards must believe I’m dead before they react. The moment has to look right.”

“I’ll scream,” you insisted, heart racing. “It has to look like I’m horrified by what I’ve done. The palace staff must witness the aftermath.”

After a couple of days of careful preparation, the plan was ready to be executed. The moment arrived, and with the flash of a blade, the pooling of blood, and well-timed screams, the plan unfolded seamlessly in the palace courtyard, with palace workers witnessing the chaos.

Silla was still mourning the loss of their previous king as whispers spread through the streets of the city they once secretly roamed together – the queen murdered the new king.

The news quickly reached your father. Playing up his fury, he demanded your immediate return to Goguryeo so he could ‘deal’ with you. Despite Jimin's apparent ‘death,’ you remained composed as you were escorted back to your homeland, pretending to be the traitor your father had expected you to become while playing a double agent.

Upon arrival, you were swiftly escorted to the palace prison, despite your vocal objections – exactly as your father would have expected you to. The stone walls loomed, rough and cold, the damp air pressing in as though to suffocate any trace of defiance within you. As you sank onto the hard ground, darkness settled thickly, and a nagging unease surfaced, pricking your confidence. For the first time, doubt crept into your thoughts – could you truly follow through with this plan?

Hours slipped by in the silent, pitch-black cell, and the full weight of your decision bore down on you. You had crossed the line – betraying the man who had raised you and molded you, the man who had instilled his twisted values in you from birth. Your father’s words echoed faintly in your memory, casting a shadow of doubt. Was he right all along? Were you just a pawn, only useful when moved by another’s hand? The thought unsettled you, gnawing away at your certainty.

Days passed in silence, with only the low murmurs of guards and the faint echoes of the royal court reaching your ears. The suspense wore on, testing your resilience. But each passing moment spent in that oppressive isolation fueled something deeper within you. Despite your father’s attempts to bury your will beneath layers of fear and control, you saw his true plan now – he’d intended to turn you into a weapon, to frame you for Jimin’s murder, and thereby rid himself of two obstacles in one fell swoop. The thought struck a chord, stirring a fierce resolve within you.

You were no longer anyone’s pawn, and you would prove it. You’d suffered your father’s manipulations for too long. With a growing sense of defiance, you felt yourself stepping into a new role, envisioning the way forward. You would show them all that the Queen held the power on the board – and you would choose the King you were willing to defend, not one dictated by another’s ambition.

On the day set for your execution, the tension in the palace was palpable. The courtyard was filled with spectators and guards lining the perimeter. You were led in chains, your heart pounding in your chest, though not from fear. Your father stood at the head of the dais, watching you with cold, calculating eyes. Even surrounded by his statesmen, confidence radiated from you. No doubts crept into your mind as you were forced to kneel, resolute in your decision. You felt the weight of the moment, but instead of fear, determination coursed through you. This was not the end – it was a new beginning, and you would face whatever came next with unwavering strength.

As the executioner raised his sword, ready to bring it down upon you, a sudden commotion erupted at the gates. The sound of horses’ hooves thundered through the courtyard, and before anyone could react, Jimin appeared at the head of his royal guard—a formidable force that swept into the palace with the precision of an army well-trained for this moment.

Gasps echoed through the crowd as they realized the truth: Jimin was alive.

Your father’s face twisted in shock, his composure faltering for the first time. "This is impossible," he hissed. "You were supposed to be dead!"

Jimin dismounted his horse, his expression grim and determined. He walked toward the dais, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "You plotted the death of my father," he said, his voice steady. "You conspired to murder me and to use your daughter as nothing more than a tool in your lust for power."

Your father’s eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into fists. "I did what needed to be done to secure our kingdoms!"

"No," you said, stepping forward, your voice strong despite the chains around your wrists. "You did it for yourself. You never cared about the people, only about your legacy."

Jimin’s royal guards surrounded the dais, and in a swift, calculated move, they arrested your father. The statesmen who had once stood by his side now stepped back, their loyalty transferred to you, Jimin, and your brother. The truth had been revealed, and there was no longer any place for tyranny in the kingdom. They knew that you and Jimin were working toward a different future—one that would unite both kingdoms in peace, not through betrayal and bloodshed.

As your father was led away, his cries of outrage fading into the distance, Jimin turned to you. His eyes softened, and he reached for you, pulling you close. The chains around your wrists were removed, and for the first time since this long journey had begun, you felt the weight of your father lift from your soul.

"It's over," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

You nodded, relief flooding through you. "It’s over. But what comes next?"

Jimin took a deep breath, determination shining in his eyes. "We rebuild. Together. We’ll create a kingdom where love and loyalty matter more than power."

Years passed, and under your joint rule, Goguryeo and Silla worked together, helping Silla become a flourishing kingdom. What had once been a land divided by ambition and war became a place where prosperity and peace reigned. The people of Goguryeo no longer feared their ruler but looked to your brother, the new king, as a leader who truly cared for their well-being. Together, you and Jimin had built the kingdom both of you had always dreamed of—one where justice, compassion, and fairness governed without the use of tyranny and fear, creating a peaceful and prosperous kingdom.

As the kingdom thrived, so did your family. You and Jimin had children, and from the moment they were born, you made a promise to each other that they would be raised differently than you and your fathers before you. You would teach them to see their people not as tools for power but as individuals whose lives and dreams mattered. You raised them to understand the importance of compassion, to know that true leadership meant serving the people, not ruling over them with fear or greed.

Your children grew up knowing the stories of the past—of the wars, the betrayals, and the harsh lessons learned. But more importantly, they grew up with the vision of a kingdom where kindness and justice prevailed. They walked among the commoners and spoke with farmers, artisans, and merchants, learning from their people rather than looking down upon them. It was your hope, and Jimin’s, that they would continue the legacy of peace and fairness you had worked so hard to establish.

Jimin often took them to the palace gardens beneath the ancient willow tree where your love had first blossomed and shared with them the stories of how you had fought for a different future.

“Do you mean to tell us,” one of your children giggled, eyes wide with disbelief, “that you two fell in love right here under this tree?”

Jimin chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Absolutely! Your mother and I spent countless hours here, dreaming of a world where love conquered all. It wasn’t easy, but we made a promise to each other to fight for it.”

“And what happened next?” another child asked, leaning in with eager anticipation.

“Well,” you interjected with a playful grin, “after some serious struggles, we decided that love was worth the fight. We stood against our fathers and chose a future together.”

“Did you think you could win?” your eldest, the Crown Prince, asked, still skeptical.

“Every day,” Jimin replied, his tone earnest. “Because love isn’t just about feelings; it’s about courage. And it’s that courage that changed our kingdom forever.”

And so, the kingdom remained strong, not through conquest or manipulation, but through the shared belief that the rulers and the ruled were one—united by a vision of peace and compassion. The reign of tyranny had ended with your fathers, and in its place, a new legacy was born—one that would endure for generations to come, led by your children who had learned to rule with their hearts as much as with their heads.

The people would always remember how you and Jimin, against all odds, had forged a path that defied fate and brought harmony to both kingdoms. Like the roots of the ancient willow tree with which your love bloomed, peace spread through the nations united as one, and now, with your children and their children after them, that peace would endure.

[mrsparkjimin18]

part 2: bound by duty, torn by desire

It’d been almost a week, yet Jimin’s words lingered continuously through your mind, no matter how much you tried to brush them aside. You kept your distance, donning the same stoic, controlled demeanor ingrained in you since childhood.

In a grand meeting room, you sit amidst the advisors, watching their expressions shift from measured interest to faint skepticism, as you present your proposal for a new trade route that could bolster the struggling kingdom. The air thickens with expectation, and you suspect the underlying tension as they exchange glances.

When you finish, the head advisor waves his hand dismissively, his tone edged with condescension as he addresses you. “That would be reckless. We cannot risk the stability we have,” he argued, casting doubt on the feasibility of your plan without further consideration.

You glanced around at the other advisors and they seemed to agree with simple head nods and a rush of frustration surged through you. This idea wasn’t just any proposal; it was a genuine opportunity for Silla's recovery, a chance to prove to your father that your words mattered – you could control this kingdom and make it prosperous. 

Seated at the head of the table, Jimin leaned forward, a spark of determination igniting in his gaze. “I believe we should consider this idea more seriously,” he interjected, his voice steady. “To move forward as a kingdom, we must embrace innovation rather than fear change. I will personally oversee the discussions on this trade route.”

A wave of satisfaction rises within you, tempered only by the advisors’ begrudging nods and the shuffled rustling of their papers. Frustration simmered beneath your calm exterior and you crossed your arms tightly over your chest as if to hold your true feelings in. Once the meeting concluded and the advisors filed out, you stood in place, the weight of their dismissive attitudes igniting anger that was difficult to shake. 

You walked to the window overlooking the palace grounds, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if to shield against the sting of rejection. The gardens stretched out below, a vibrant scene filled with life that felt entirely disconnected from the turmoil within you.

“Your Highness?” Jimin’s voice broke through your reverie, soft and cautious. He approached you, concern etched across his features. “Are you alright?”

“No,” you admitted, turning to face him, frustration bubbling over. “I’m tired of being ignored. My ideas… they could truly help Silla, but all they see is the crown I wear.”

Jimin stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “You’re more than a crown; you’re a voice for the people of this kingdom. Your ideas are valuable, and I promise to support them.”

His words wrapped around you like a soothing balm, calming the storm of emotions inside. Before you realized it, he was close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from him. At that moment, the walls you had built began to crumble. You leaned into him, and lips brushed lightly against yours – an accidental touch, but one that sparked a feeling filled with promise and understanding, as though a silent confession had passed between you two.

Just as quickly as the tenderness bloomed, you pulled back, instinctively shutting down your emotions. “I can’t… I can’t let this happen,” you murmured, stepping away, your heart racing as you distanced yourself again.

“Why not?” Jimin asked, his brow furrowing in confusion and concern. He took a step closer, his voice low and sincere. “What’s holding you back?”

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, a mixture of warmth and inquiry that made your heart flutter and ache. “We should wait until the night of consummation,” you said quickly, grasping at the flimsy excuse. “It’s tradition.”

His expression softened, but the worry remained. “Is it truly just about tradition? Or is there something more?”

You averted your gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “I… I just think it’s best,” you stammered, the unease twisting in your stomach.

“Best for whom?” he pressed gently, stepping even closer, his presence a comforting yet dangerous temptation. “You deserve to be happy too. I want to understand what you’re feeling.”

“Jimin, please,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you took another step back, creating more distance. “We have our duties, our expectations. I can’t let this… whatever it is… interfere.”

He watched you, concern etched across his face. “I don’t want to interfere. I want to support you. You don’t have to hide from me.”

“Maybe it’s safer if I do,” you replied, feeling the heat of unshed tears threatening to spill over. You turned away from him, staring out at the palace grounds, your heart aching with the weight of your conflicting emotions.

As you walked away, you fought to keep your composure, knowing that with each step, you were retreating into the walls you had so carefully built around your heart. You knew you had to play your part, to make him believe in your love while waging a silent war against your feelings.

A few days later, Jimin hesitantly asked, “Would you like to take a walk through the palace gardens with me? The blooms are particularly stunning this time of year.”

You nodded, feeling a twinge of apprehension, and scurried ahead of him to maintain the physical distance you craved. He quickly matched your pace, his footsteps steady beside you as you both walked in silence, the vibrant garden surrounding you.

As you moved through the colorful blooms, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the beauty around you. Instead, your mind was a battlefield, caught between the memory of the kiss you had shared and the necessity of keeping him at arm's length. 

“Do you ever imagine what life would’ve been like without these responsibilities?”

The question struck a chord, though you kept your gaze forward, forcing yourself to remain detached.

“I never had the luxury to imagine such things,” you replied, your tone measured.

But he wasn’t deterred. “That doesn’t mean you’ve never thought about it.”

You hesitated. His quiet persistence unnerved you, and for a moment, the lie you’d prepared clung to the tip of your tongue. But the sincerity in his eyes disarmed you.

“Perhaps,” you admitted, though the word felt foreign leaving your lips. “But this is the path we were given. It’s not a matter of choice.”

Jimin turned, his expression gentle but unyielding. “Doesn’t mean we can’t make something more of it.”

Again, his words stirred a dangerous thought inside you, one you had been too afraid to acknowledge. You reminded yourself of your father’s expectations and the mission that had brought you to this place, fighting to suppress the warmth of his presence that threatened to break through your carefully constructed walls.

The next morning, you found a quiet corner in the grand library, nestled among the towering shelves filled with knowledge accumulated over centuries. In the warm afternoon light, you sat with a book open on your lap, but your thoughts drifted away from its pages, preoccupied with the web of duty and deception you’d been woven into.

Jimin’s soft footsteps broke the silence, and you glanced up to find him standing nearby, a book under his arm. His presence was becoming so familiar that it was both comforting and unsettling.

“I thought you might be here,” he said, settling beside you with a gentle smile. “I wanted to share this with you. It’s a fascinating history of former rulers and the mistakes they made.” He opened the book to a passage and handed it to you. “I find it humbling, learning about what they got wrong. It feels… grounding, I guess. Helps remind me of what not to repeat.”

You glanced down at the open pages, half reading, but your mind was elsewhere, tangled in the tension between your duty to your father and the quiet pull of Jimin’s earnestness. As he continued reading, his calm voice filling the space, you felt your carefully constructed defenses weakening. The choices ahead seemed heavier by the day, and the thought of fulfilling your mission left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Late that afternoon, you walked with Jimin through the palace gardens, reflecting on the meeting from earlier in the morning that had not gone as planned for either of you. 

His advisors were pushing to trade their resources to the West, but the trade lines were unestablished, and it was dangerous to do so without having maintained and protected routes. While you and Jimin had different reasons to oppose this plan, you were still on the same side against the advisors.

One in particular appeared to want to get under your skin. “You may oversee the kingdom from your throne, but we know what is best for the people and this nation, and trade will bring revenue. You’ve never even been into the city, have you? I wouldn’t advise it until you can understand it from a commoner’s point of view. Just stick to what you know.”

It had been a hard meeting to sit through, feeling as if they viewed you as a little girl playing as the future Queen, and the fresh air helped you let go of your animosity. As the sky began to turn shades of orange and pink, he turned to you with a rare smile.

“You should smile more,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Because it suits you,” he replied, his smile softening as his eyes held yours. “And remember, I’m on your side. I’ll support you as long as you support me.”

Your heart fluttered, and you quickly turned away, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. Despite yourself, you smiled. The rest of the walk continued in silence, stolen glances and blushing cheeks the only form of communication.

Time passed and late afternoon became early evening, as you entered the dining hall and sat together to share a quiet meal. “Do you ever feel like we’re trapped?” he asked, his voice low as if confessing a secret.

You glanced around at the unaware staff before looking at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “Trapped?”

“In all of this,” he gestured around him. “The expectations, the duties… sometimes I feel like there’s no room for us to be… just us.”

You studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I know the feeling,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened, and you felt a quiet understanding pass between you—an unspoken agreement that you both wished to become more than what the world expected of you, rather than your fathers.

As the cooler days of mid-autumn arrived, you met Jimin in the palace garden before heading to your separate sleeping chambers. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves, and the stars shone brightly above. Beneath the ancient willow tree, a new sense of closeness settled between you, unspoken yet undeniable. You could feel the pull of the moment, the weight of all that had been building between you, and in the quiet stillness of the night, you grew fearful—not of your mission or even of him, but of the dangerous way your feelings seemed to deepen.

The gentle whisper of an autumn breeze was the only sound between you. Jimin turned to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. His hand gently brushed yours, sending a familiar warmth through your skin.

"Your Highness," he whispered, his voice low and intimate, "there’s somewhere I want to take you. Somewhere secret, outside the palace walls." His words hung in the air, a tantalizing offer of freedom. 

For a moment, the weight of your duty seemed to lift, and all that mattered was the thrill of escaping—just the two of you, far from the watchful eyes of the court. The temptation to leave behind the confines of your world, if only for a night, tugged at your heart. Without waiting for your answer, Jimin’s hand tightened slightly around yours, his smile daring you to follow him into the unknown.

The palace seemed to grow smaller behind you, its towering spires fading into the distance as you and Jimin made your way into the heart of the town. Dressed in simple cloaks, with your faces hidden beneath the hoods, you moved quietly through the cobbled streets, unnoticed by the guards or the townspeople. The cool night air carried the sounds of life—laughter, music, and the murmur of conversation spilling out from taverns and homes.

Your heart raced, not from fear, but from excitement. It had been so long since you ventured out like this—since you had walked the streets anonymously, mingling among people you were destined to rule. Tonight, however, you were not alone. Jimin walked beside you, his presence a constant reminder of the dangerous feelings you were struggling to contain.

"This way," Jimin whispered, gesturing toward a narrow alleyway that led to the market square. You followed him on a path similar to the one that leads to the city outside of your palace, winding through shadowed corners and past brightly lit stalls. The smells of fresh bread, roasted meats, and sweet pastries filled the air as you approached the market, bustling even at this late hour.

As you stepped into the square, you felt a sense of freedom wash over you, as though the weight of your titles had momentarily lifted. You were no longer the former Princess of Goguryeo, and he was no longer Prince Jimin of Silla. Here, among the commoners, you were simply two people hidden from the eyes of the world.

Jimin paused near a stall selling trinkets and handcrafted jewelry. He picked up a delicate silver bracelet, turning it over in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship, before setting it back down. You watched him, curious.

"Why did you bring me here?" you asked quietly.

He smiled, his eyes glinting beneath his hood. "I wanted you to see what I see when I come here. I come to places like this often when I'm alone."

You frowned, surprised. "You come here? Into the town? Why?"

Jimin’s gaze drifted over the market, watching as a young boy chased after his sister, their laughter bright in the night air. A group of artisans haggled with a merchant over the price of goods, their gestures animated and full of life.

"I’ve done this for years," he said softly, turning to face you. "I sneak out of the palace whenever I can. I need to see it all for myself—the real kingdom, not just the one we rule from up there," he said, nodding in the direction of the distant palace. "My father believes in ruling from a throne, in making decisions that serve his ambitions. But how can you lead people if you don't know them? If you've never walked in their shoes, feel what they’ve felt?"

His words struck a chord deep within you. It was the same reason you had begun sneaking into town, the same reason you had disguised yourself to live, even for a few moments, among your people. In the palace, everything was cold and calculated, built on strategies and alliances, but here—here, life was vibrant and real. The people who would live under your rule weren’t just nameless figures in a distant province. They were right here, living, breathing, struggling, and thriving. How could you rule them without understanding their lives?

Jimin continued, his voice filled with passion. "I want to be a different kind of ruler. I don’t want to sit on a throne and dictate from a distance. I want to know these people. I want them to trust me, not fear me. That’s why I come here, why I talk to them, learn from them. How can I build a kingdom of peace if I don’t understand the ones who live in it?"

You stared at him, your heart pounding as you absorbed his words. His vision for the future, his belief in ruling through understanding rather than power, was the same vision you had kept hidden for so long. He was speaking the truth you had never dared to voice.

"I did the same," you admitted softly, your voice barely a whisper. "I visited the city outside of my palace for years, too. Disguised, hidden. I listened to their stories and watched them live their lives. It’s the only place where I felt..." You trailed off, unsure if you should reveal too much.

Jimin's eyes searching yours, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "Where you felt free?" he finished gently.

You nodded, the confession hanging between you like a fragile secret. In this moment, you felt more connected to him than you had to anyone in your life. He understood—he knew what it meant to live between two worlds, to be bound by duty yet long for something more. The affection you had been fighting to suppress surged in your chest, undeniable and terrifying. How could you resist someone who shared your secret hopes and dreams? How could you continue to follow your father’s plan when Jimin stood beside you, offering a glimpse of the life you had always wanted?

Jimin’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his voice barely audible over the bustling market. "We’re not so different, you and I."

His words made your heart ache with confusion. You were different. He was a dreamer, a man who believed in peace and love, while you were a weapon forged for conquest, conditioned to betray and destroy. And yet, his presence stirred something deep inside you, a longing for the future you had never thought possible—a future with him.

"Jimin," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "what if..." But you stopped yourself, unsure of what you were about to say or the dangerous path your heart was leading you down.

He turned toward you, stepping closer, his eyes locking with yours. "What if what?"

You swallowed, the words stuck in your throat. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t betray you? What if I want more than power? But you said nothing, your silence betraying the battle raging within you.

Jimin reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your hand. It was a small gesture, barely a touch, but it sent a shock through you. "You don’t have to fight this alone," he said softly. "I’m struggling just as you are. I’ve grown to care deeply for a woman who doesn’t appear to feel the same. Eventually, maybe you will, or we’ll make this work another way."

Another way. The words were so simple, yet they carried the weight of a world you had longed for. But the shadows of your father’s command still loomed, and you knew that the choice ahead of you was far from easy.

As you stood there, surrounded by the life and laughter of the market, your heart warred with your duty, and for the first time, you truly weren’t sure which would win.

Autumn neared it’s end and winter was fast approaching, which seemed to be all too soon. Beneath the ancient willow tree, you found yourselves standing in silence, but it wasn’t the comforting quiet it usually was. It was laden with unspoken truths, words neither of you dared to voice.

Jimin finally broke the stillness, his tone gentle but direct. “I feel there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Your breath hitched, and you fought to keep your expression neutral. Trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not with him.

“I’ve never asked for more than you’re willing to share,” he continued softly, stepping closer, “but if you ever need to, I’m here.”

His patience, his understanding, only made the ache in your chest grow stronger. You had spent so long convincing yourself that feelings had no place in this equation. But now, standing under the stars with him, the weight of your choices felt unbearable.

“What if I can’t?” The question escaped before you could stop, a quiet plea you hadn’t intended to voice.

Jimin’s eyes softened, and his voice lowered. “Then we’ll face it together; whatever it is that weighs heavy on your mind, we’ll get through it. Together.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You allowed the possibility of a different future to bloom—a future where you were free from the chains of duty, where you and Jimin could carve out a life beyond the reach of your father’s shadow.

But reality was swift to crush that fleeting hope. You had already set events into motion, and there was no escaping what was to come.

As the day faded into evening, the moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft silver glow over the palace gardens. You and Jimin had spent hours walking through the quiet paths, talking of everything and nothing, your footsteps light on the frosted, dew-kissed grass. In his presence, the weight of your titles and the impending decisions fade into the background.

At the edge of the gardens stood a small pavilion draped in flowering vines, its wooden beams worn smooth by time. A place of refuge, hidden away from the eyes of the palace. Jimin stopped there, his hand resting lightly on one of the posts as he turned to look at you. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, and you felt your heart lurch in your chest.

"Your Highness," he said softly, your name lingering on his lips like a whispered secret.

You stepped closer, the tension between you palpable in the night air. You could feel it—this pull, this dangerous, magnetic force drawing you toward him. The rational part of your mind screamed for you to step back, to remember who you were and what you were meant to do. But your heart, already so entangled in this impossible bond, refused to listen.

"I don’t know how much longer I can do this," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of the leaves. I can't pretend that I don’t feel anything.

Jimin’s eyes darkened, his gaze softening with an intensity that made your breath catch. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your hand, and it felt as though the entire world stopped around you. The cool night air suddenly felt warmer, the space between you shrinking with every passing second.

"You don’t have to fight it," Jimin murmured, his voice low and intimate.

Your heart raced as his hand slid up your arm, the gentle touch sending shivers through your body. You could feel his warmth, the nearness of his presence, and it made everything else—your duty, your father’s plans—fade into a distant, meaningless hum.

Jimin took your hand, intertwining your fingers, a delicate touch both tentative and certain, as if he, too, was afraid of crossing this invisible line between you but unable to stop himself. His thumb gently caressed the back of your hand, the simple gesture igniting a storm of emotions you had fought to suppress.

"Your Highness," he whispered again, his voice like a quiet plea. "I’ve tried to keep my distance, tried to be the person I’m supposed to be. But I can’t anymore. Not when you’re right here, within my grasp, to hold and feel your warmth, to kiss those lips I’ve been longing to taste."

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of what they meant. You knew, at this moment, you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t take back. But you were tired of pretending, tired of denying the connection between you.

"I’m not supposed to feel this way," you breathed, your voice trembling. The unspoken truth—the path your father had set you on—loomed at the back of your mind, but you kept it buried, hidden deep beneath the surface. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit it aloud.

Jimin’s gaze never wavered, his eyes full of understanding and something deeper—something that made your heart ache. He reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers softly grazing your skin. The tenderness of the gesture unraveled the last threads of your resolve.

"This is uncharted territory for both of us," he said gently, his voice steady with quiet conviction. "We may not know exactly how to navigate this, but here we are. While we had no choice in the beginning, love can grow between us in time—if we allow it."

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. The warmth of his touch was like a balm to your troubled soul, and you leaned into it, craving the closeness, the comfort, the safety he seemed to offer.

When you opened your eyes, Jimin was closer than before, his face inches from yours. His breath mingled with yours, and you could see the way his gaze flickered down to your lips, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

You knew what was about to happen, and yet you couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to stop it.

Slowly, carefully, as if giving you every chance to pull away, Jimin leaned in. His lips brushed yours in the softest of kisses, tentative and questioning as if he were waiting for permission to go further. But instead of pulling back, you pressed closer, deepening the kiss, the last of your resistance melting away.

The kiss was slow and gentle, yet filled with a longing that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long. Jimin’s hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers, grounding you in the moment.

Time stood still and it felt like just the two of you existed in the world—nothing else mattered. His lips were soft against yours, his touch tender yet filled with restrained passion. You felt the emotions you had tried to bury rising to the surface, spilling out in every breath, every touch. You knew you shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be feeling any emotions, but for once, you didn’t care.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths mingled in the crisp night air, Jimin rested his forehead against yours. His hand remained on your waist, keeping you close, as if afraid to let go.

"You don’t have to choose between duty and your heart," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "We can find another way, Your Highness. Together."

Tears pricked at your eyes, the weight of his words crashing down on you. The choice before you felt impossible, and yet, in his arms, you dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—there was a different path. One where you didn’t have to follow your father’s path. One where you didn’t have to become the weapon he had forged you to be.

"I don’t know how," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough."

Jimin’s hand moved to your face, gently cupping your cheek as he looked into your eyes, his gaze filled with unwavering resolve. "You are. You’re stronger than you know. And I’ll be by your side when you feel you’re not strong enough, holding your hand every step of the way."

At that moment, you believed him. You believed in the possibility of a different future—one not defined by betrayal and bloodshed but by love and hope. But as the night stretched on, you knew the choice still loomed. The snow would fall soon, and with it, the decision that would shape the rest of your life.

But tonight, in Jimin’s embrace, you let yourself believe in the impossible, even if it was only for a little while longer.

Tonight is the night, the first snowfall, the night tradition dictated you consummate your marriage. As you stand before the mirror in your opulent chamber, the weight of your father’s command feels almost tangible. Your gown, embroidered with silver and sapphire, is exquisite, yet it barely masks the burden of the night ahead. The reflection staring back at you is a blend of regal beauty and concealed resolve.

The grand hall is awash with candlelight as you make your way to the chamber where Jimin awaits. His silhouette against the window is both imposing and oddly comforting. You step forward, your heart pounding with each measured stride.

“Your Highness,” Jimin says, turning to face you with a smile that seems both genuine and welcoming. “You look…stunning.” After giving you a once over, his dark eyes meet yours, and you’re struck by how open and sincere he appears.

“Thank you, Prince Jimin,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the storm inside you. You approach him –  your every step a battle between duty and the burgeoning connection you feel.

The moonlight streamed into Jimin’s chambers, casting long, soft shadows across the room. It was the only light illuminating the space, giving everything a dreamlike quality. You and Jimin stood together in silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words and emotions that had simmered for so long.

“Is something troubling you?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

You hesitated, caught between the demands of your duty and the connection growing between you. “I… I’m just nervous,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “As am I,” he confessed, “I’ve imagined this moment since the day I first saw you. There’s no need to be afraid. We’ll explore this new intimacy together.”

He reached out, brushing a tender hand against your cheek, his touch sending a shiver through you – not from the cold, but from the weight of what was to come. The world outside his chambers seemed distant and insignificant, leaving only the two of you in this moment.

He drew you closer, gently resting his forehead against yours. The nearness was overwhelming yet soothing. His breath mingled with yours as your lips met in a slow and deliberate kiss, full of the emotions neither of you had dared speak aloud. His hands, gentle but insistent, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, eliminating the space between you.

The kiss deepened, shifting into something raw and desperate – a culmination of the unspoken longing that had built between you for months. His lips were soft but hungry, as though he couldn’t get enough of you. And for the first time, you let yourself give in completely, allowing your walls to fall.

With one smooth motion, Jimin’s hand moved to release your hair from its pin, the metal clinking softly to the floor. His fingers combed through your curls, tender yet possessive, letting them cascade over your shoulders like a waterfall. His eyes, darkened with desire, followed your every movement as you slowly turned your back to him, heart racing. His hands found the laces of your corset, loosening them with agonizing slowness, the tension between you thickening with each tug.

As he removed it, your dress slid from your body, pooling at your feet. When you turned to face him again, his gaze roamed over you, as though memorizing every inch. His fingers grazed your skin, first your collarbone, then the delicate straps of your silk slip. Reverence mingled with his desire as he slid the material lower, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry eyes.

Jimin’s lips were on you before you could take another breath, his mouth claiming your skin with fervor. He suckled at your nipple, the warmth of his breath and the soft pull of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. A low, guttural moan escaped him, vibrating against your skin and stirring something deep within you.

As he pushed the final silk layer lower, it slipped past your hips and fell to the floor, leaving you completely bare before him. You felt the heat of his gaze lingering on every inch of your exposed body, his desire palpable in the way his breath quickened.

He kissed his way back up to your lips, capturing them in a slow, heated kiss that left you breathless. His hands, rough yet tender, explored your body with a familiar intimacy, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. His fingers fumbled with his clothing, but his lips rarely strayed from yours. Only when he reached for the hem of his shirt did he pull away, his eyes locking onto yours, full of promises unspoken but deeply understood.

He stripped away his shirt, revealing the taut muscles beneath his skin as he stepped closer. The air between you crackled with anticipation, each touch, each kiss, building a fire that had been smoldering for too long. As his hands returned to you, pressing your bodies together, the world seemed to shrink until only the two of you existed.

Jimin guided you to the bed, the cool silk sheets a contrast to the heat your bodies were creating. His hands traced every inch of your skin with reverence, as though committing you to memory. Your breaths intertwined as you surrendered to the moment, your heart racing, your mind lost to the intensity of it all. Each touch, each kiss, was a quiet confession of all that couldn’t be said aloud.

When he entered you, it was slow and deliberate; his movements filled with tenderness and restrained passion. You felt the depth of your connection in every moment, every motion—a bond that transcended duty, kingdom, and betrayal. For that time, there was no world outside this room, no looming shadows—only love, raw and unspoken.

As the two of you moved together, the intimacy became overwhelming. Jimin’s whispered breaths against your neck, the way his hands held you as if you were something precious—it was as if every touch, every kiss, was a silent declaration of all he felt for you.

When the moment finally reached its peak, the release came like a wave crashing over both of you, leaving you breathless and entwined, the sheets tangled around your legs as you clung to each other.

For a few moments, all was quiet. The only sound in the room was the gentle rise and fall of your breaths, the steady beat of Jimin’s heart against your chest.

The moonlight suddenly seemed to radiate brighter through the window, illuminating the room in a silvery glow. The reality of what you had done began to settle back over you. Lying there, entangled with him, the weight of your duty rushed back, heavy and suffocating.

Jimin’s arm lay draped across your waist, his breathing even and calm. He was unaware of the storm of conflict brewing inside you, the cold resolve that had returned to your mind despite the warmth of your body still pressed against his. Carefully, silently, you slipped from his embrace, your fingers finding the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath the pillow.

The metal felt cold in your hand as you stood, the moonlight bathing you in its pale glow. You felt its weight, the jagged, carved edges of the handle biting into your palm as you gripped it tightly. Your heart pounded in your chest, the echo of what you were supposed to do reverberating in your mind.

Jimin stirred slightly in his sleep, a soft sigh escaping his lips. You looked down at him, his face peaceful in the dim light, so unaware of the danger before him. You hesitated, the dagger heavy in your hand. This was the moment your father had prepared you for—the moment you were meant to secure your kingdom’s future through cold efficiency, as he had taught you. But standing there, the blade ready, something inside you wavered.

You felt the familiar tug of doubt, the quiet voice that had grown louder with every moment you’d spent with him. Could you do it? Could you kill the man who had shown you kindness, who had offered you a future filled with hope and possibility? The man who had just held you so tenderly in his arms?

Your hand trembled as you stood over him, dagger in hand, the weight of your father's command pressed down on you, but the pull of your heart was stronger. You looked down at Jimin—so peaceful, so unaware—and slowly, the cold resolve in your chest began to thaw. Your grip on the dagger loosened, and you quietly placed it back beneath the pillow. For tonight, you couldn’t be the weapon your father forged you to be.

Instead, you lay back down beside Jimin, his warmth enveloping you as you settled against him. His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, as though even in his sleep he could feel the connection between you. You closed your eyes, breathing in the scent of him, allowing yourself—for just this one night—to give in to the love you’d tried so hard to deny. Tomorrow, you would have to face the consequences of your choices, but for now, in the soft moonlit silence of his chambers, you chose him.

The next morning, you rose early, slipping out of Jimin’s embrace before he woke. You dressed quietly, stealing one last glance at him before leaving his chambers. Stepping outside, the crisp morning air filled your lungs, a mix of excitement and dread about the future settling in your heart. Just as you began to gather your thoughts, a palace servant approached, bowing respectfully.

“Your Royal Highness, you have a visitor,” the servant announced.

“A visitor?” you asked, curiosity piqued. “Who is it?”

“It’s the Crown Prince, your brother,” the servant replied.

Your heart skipped; it felt like it’d been an eternity since you’d last seen your younger brother, and you nearly ran before asking, “Where is he?”

“He’s waiting in the garden, Your Highness. He requested to speak with you in private.”

Nodding, you followed the servant through the cold, hushed corridors of the palace until you reached the garden. The usual vibrant blooms lay dormant, replaced by a heavy layer of snow that blanketed the ground. The stark landscape felt ominous, and the quietness wrapped around you like a shroud as you spotted your brother seated on a stone bench, his expression a mixture of relief and concern.

“Brother!” you exclaimed, as you stood within inches of him. “What’s the matter?”

His eyes darted around to ensure no one else was listening before he leaned closer. “I couldn’t wait to tell you what I overheard, Your Highness,” he whispered urgently. “It’s about Father.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I heard him speaking to Lord Hwang in the war chamber,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was discussing you. Once you’d completed your task, he planned to have you arrested.”

“Arrested?” you echoed, confusion and fear coursing through you. “Why?”

“Because he intended for you to kill Prince Jimin,” your brother explained, his voice barely above a whisper. “After that, he planned to execute you. He believed your death would secure the trust between the Kim and Park dynasties.”

A chill washed over you, colder than the winter air, each word sending shockwaves through your body. Your father had plotted to use you as a pawn all along—an expendable piece in his game of power. He never intended for you to live. The moment you fulfilled your duty, you would be discarded, sacrificed for the sake of his ambition.

“I can’t believe this…” you murmured, the weight of betrayal nearly crushing you.

“Please, Your Highness, you must be careful,” he urged, grabbing your hands tightly. “You cannot go through with his plan. You have to warn Jimin.”

The walls of the garden seemed to close in around you as you shook off the shock and made your way back inside, determined to find him. There was no longer any doubt in your mind. You could not betray Jimin, and now you knew your father was more dangerous than you had ever imagined.

Finally, you rushed through the corridors until you found Jimin, alone in his chambers. His expression lit up the moment he saw you, but before he could speak, you closed the distance between you, taking his hands in yours.

“Jimin,” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with urgency. “There’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been lying to you… about everything.”

His smile faltered, concern flooding his features. “What do you mean? What’s going on, Your Highness?”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding. “My brother came to see me. He overheard my father speaking to his statesman about our marriage and what he planned to do after it was consummated.”

Jimin’s brow furrowed, his expression turning serious. “What did he hear?”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “My father ordered me to kill you once our union was secure. He believed that by solidifying our kingdoms through your death, he could strengthen our alliance with the Silla nation. But that’s not all—after I did it, he intended to arrest me and execute me to prove his loyalty to your family.”

Jimin’s face went pale, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. “Your father… wanted you to kill me, and then he was going to arrest and execute you?”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t believe he would do this to me… to us. My brother was horrified by what he heard. I came back as soon as I could because I realized I couldn’t go through with his plan. I don’t care about his expectations; I just… I can’t lose you. I won’t betray you.”

Jimin stared at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with disbelief, anger, and something softer. Slowly, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his chin resting on the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jimin’s arms tightened around you, his voice low but steady. “You didn’t betray me, my love. You came back. You told me the truth, and that means everything.”

Pulling back slightly, you searched his eyes for any sign of doubt or fear. All you saw was a quiet resolve, a determination that mirrored your own.

“We can’t stay here,” you said quietly. “If my father finds out I’ve returned to you… he’ll come for both of us.”

Jimin nodded, his expression hardening. “Then we need a plan. We can’t just run; it won’t work. We have to fake my death.”

Your heart raced at the thought, a mix of fear and hope swirling within you. “Fake your death? How do we even do that?”

Jimin’s face contorted as he thought. “We can stage an attack, one that looks real. We’ll make it seem like I’ve been killed. That way, your father won’t come after you immediately. We’ll have time to regroup and find allies.”

A flicker of hope ignited in your chest. “You think we can pull this off?”

Jimin’s lips curved into a determined smile. “I know we can. We just need to be clever and act quickly. We can gather some of my most trusted guards. They’ll help us create the illusion we need.”

But just as you began to feel the excitement of your plan taking shape, a guard burst into the room, his expression frantic. “Your Highness, you must come quickly! The King—he has fallen ill!”

The urgency of the news sent a wave of worry through you. Jimin’s expression darkened. “This could complicate things,” he said, his voice tense.

“Yes,” you agreed, feeling the weight of the situation settle over you. “We’ll need to delay our plan until we know more about his condition.”

“Let’s focus on ensuring my fathers recovery,” Jimin suggested, his resolve unshaken. “Once things are stable, we can move forward with our plan. But for now, we need to stay close to the palace and keep a low profile.”

You nodded, your heart heavy with uncertainty, but you were grateful for Jimin’s unwavering support. Together, you turned to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that time was both your ally and your enemy.

[mrsparkjimin18]

part 1: under the mask of loyalty

In a kingdom where power ruled all, you’ve always known the weight of your destiny as a Princess. Your mother, the young Queen Consort, passed away shortly after giving birth to your younger brother, the Crown Prince, leaving you and him motherless. Your father, King Jaeheon of Goguryeo, had meticulously trained you in the arts of diplomacy and warfare, preparing you not merely to rule but to conquer. You were groomed to be a fearless leader, a queen who would secure the future of your dynasty through a calculated marriage—a marriage that, as your father had instructed, would expand the land and resources under your control. It was his doctrine of power and survival.

Yet beneath your polished armor and strategic mind, you harbored another dream. In the quiet moments of your nights and the stolen breaths during your walks among the commoners, you yearned for a kingdom free from deceit and bloodshed—a place where your people could live in peace, unburdened by the shadows of their rulers' ambitions. During those secret moments, you’d share tales with your younger brother, painting vivid pictures of a better kingdom where kindness reigned and love guided the hearts of leaders. Deep down, however, you believed these dreams would never come true, shackled as you were to your father's plans for you.

Your secret excursions outside the palace had become your refuge, a way to touch the pulse of the land you were destined to leave once married. You mingled with artisans, farmers, and scholars, absorbing their hopes and fears. It was amidst these interactions that you began to understand the depth of your people's desires—and your own conflicting emotions.

Then came the day when your father, with a gravity that chilled you to the bone, announced your betrothal to Crown Prince Jimin of the Park Dynasty. Jimin’s father, King Minseok, ruled the weak and dying nation of Silla, a kingdom whose influence had waned over the years. But despite Silla’s fragile state, your father’s ambitions were focused elsewhere—on the kingdom’s strategic coastal ports. They were vital gateways to trade and military control, giving access to foreign markets and the ability to command the seas. Coveting these ports, your father saw this union not as an alliance of equals, but as a path to secure his dominance over land and sea.

As you processed the news, your father’s voice broke the tense silence, shifting his focus to your next task. “There is more you must do once you’re at Park Palace,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I need you to find information on the import and export merchants in the royal archives.”

Your brows furrowed. “In the archives? Why?”

“Those records are vital,” he replied, his tone sharp. “The Park Dynasty’s trade network with foreign markets is key to expanding my resources to the Silla nation. This marriage may not be enough and we need control over their trade routes.”

He stood, pacing before you. “You will have one trusted servant with you. That servant will deliver the information to someone waiting in Silla City outside the palace.”

“Who?” you asked.

“A contact I’ve arranged. That’s all you need to know,” he said dismissively. “Do not fail in this task. Our future depends on it.”

His eyes were stern as he instructed, "You must keep your true intentions hidden. Do not let him see past the façade. Make him believe you love him, make him fall for you even, but remember—this union is a means to an end. You must do what is necessary to help secure our future."

The grand wedding unfolded with the elegance and ritual reserved for royal unions, each detail meticulously planned to signify the unity of the two kingdoms. Lanterns lined the hall, casting a warm, amber glow over the vast gathering space. Their soft light illuminated the polished wooden floors and intricate latticework that decorated the walls. Guests dressed in their finest hanboks looked on as you and Prince Jimin exchanged solemn vows before the assembly.

You glanced at Jimin and observed his demeanor—calm, unassuming, but watchful. He seemed determined to make a good impression, and his gaze lingered just a bit too long, perhaps hoping for some silent acknowledgement. You offered him a coy, practiced smile, adhering to the role you had to play.

After the final ceremonies ended, you turned to him, your tone even yet distant. “It seems we have much to learn about one another,” you said dryly, offering neither warmth nor scorn. You watched as he hesitated briefly, seemingly uncertain how to respond, before nodding in quiet agreement.

Tradition dictated your consummation with the first snowfall, which meant months of preparation and planning for the mission your father had entrusted to you. Every interaction with Jimin would require a delicate balance, enough warmth to build trust, yet tempered by the need to keep your heart guarded.

The celebration ended, and as tradition demanded, the journey to Park Palace began, a trek southward into the mountainous terrain of Silla, symbolizing the shift from your familiar life in Goguryeo to the foreign halls of your new home. By your side traveled your one trusted servant, the only link to your past you’d been allowed to keep. Her quiet presence gave you a sense of stability, a subtle reassurance amid the unknown, as you rode along rugged paths and through dense forests. The air carried quiet anticipation as you neared the palace, and the landscape transformed, signaling the union of your fate with this new kingdom, a path laid out both by tradition and by the orders that remained unspoken between you and your servant.

The palace was unfamiliar—grand and imposing, the corridors echoed with whispers of courtiers and the shifting tides of palace politics. Though its beauty was undeniable, it felt like a gilded cage, its polished floors and adorned archways cast a long shadow over any semblance of freedom. Each step you took was shadowed by attendants, newly appointed servants who trailed a shouting distance behind, and guards who watched not for your safety alone but to report back on your movements. 

The vibrant gardens—sprawling, lush, and rumored to be teeming with rare flora—remained an elusive dream. On the days you tried to make your way toward them, your escorts would offer gentle but unyielding resistance, reminding you of pressing duties, or suggesting a more “appropriate” location for a princess.

Even the simplest wish to sit in quiet solitude was thwarted, as conversations you barely overheard would vanish into murmurs as soon as you neared. This constant oversight made every aspect of your life feel like a role performed under a scrutinizing lens, leaving you little room to search for the intelligence your father so urgently sought.

During the first week, you attended council sessions alongside Jimin, meetings that, at home, would have welcomed your insights. Back in Goguryeo, your father respected certain reforms you proposed, and over time, you had grown accustomed to offering input that was not only heard but acted upon. Here, however, was a different world. One morning, you suggested a streamlined taxation process – a change proven effective back home – hoping it might resonate with the council. Yet, the advisors exchanged wary glances, one murmuring that such policies weren’t suitable for Silla’s unique governance. Dismissed, your idea fell silent. Moments later, Jimin reiterated a similar suggestion, repackaging it with only slight changes, and was met with approving nods and immediate acceptance.

The cycle repeated in the following days – offer your knowledge and share insight into policies that had directly increased prosperity in Goguryeo, only to be met with thinly veiled disdain. It stung to watch as the same advisors who dismissed you readily accepted the ideas when Jimin presented them, and it made clear the way your presence was perceived – not as an ally but as an outsider.

Weeks passed, and though you held your role in diplomatic silence, the palace walls began to press down, each day reinforcing the isolation you felt. Every word, gesture, and meeting was a carefully scripted performance, and each encounter with the court only seemed to solidify the fortress of indifference surrounding you.

.

One evening after a particularly turbulent council meeting, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself seated closely beside Jimin, clinging to his warmth beneath an ancient willow tree. It had only been a few weeks since the wedding, and his calm and contemplative presence unnerved you. 

You were there with a specific duty – one your father assigned you – and the warmth radiating from Jimin felt like a betrayal of that mission. You reminded yourself he was just a stranger, a pawn in your father’s game. You suddenly realized how much closer you had sat to him than you should have, and instinctively placed some distance between you, clinging to the coolness of the air.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Jimin asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Why must I always be escorted like a prisoner in this palace?" you burst out, unable to keep the frustration from your voice. "I deserve some privacy! How am I supposed to find peace…or get to know you…when there’s always a servant or guard!?"

Jimin was taken aback briefly, but then a faint smile crossed his lips. "I understand your frustration. But it’s for your safety. The court can be treacherous, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you."

“Safety? Or control?” you retorted, crossing your arms. “This palace is beautiful, but it feels more like a prison. I want to explore and understand the people…the land—not just be paraded around as a trophy.”

Jimin studied you for a moment before nodding thoughtfully. “I understand. You deserve more than guarded walls and shadowed walks. I’ll clarify to everyone that you’re entitled to your privacy. No more guards hovering over you unless you specifically ask for them,” he promised, his tone reassuring.

You pause, choosing your words carefully. “Thank you, Your Highness,” your tone soft, but steady. “Having the chance to explore freely…to make my way…it’s more than I could have hoped for.” You allow a hint of gratitude to show as you meet his gaze. “I’ll make the most of it.”

Inside, however, your thoughts began to race. This newfound freedom would be the key to finding the information your father wanted without any suspicion – an opportunity to navigate the palace and its secrets on your own.  

"Your Highness," he continued gently, his gaze lingering on yours with curiosity and concern, "what do you want from all of this? What would make this life feel like yours?"

You hesitated, his question striking a nerve you hadn’t expected. “I want to be taken seriously,” you admitted, almost surprised by your boldness. “I’ve suggested ideas that could help, things I know could work—my father uses them back home. But the advisors, they…” You stopped yourself, choosing your words carefully. “They dismiss them. But when you suggest the same, they listen. I want my ideas to be heard and respected, not ignored.”

Jimin’s expression softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. “Then I’ll be sure your ideas are taken seriously,” he replied quietly. “They should listen to you, not just me.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. "Thank you," you murmured, the words instinctive, but genuine.

But he wasn’t finished. “What else?” he pressed, his gaze not wavering. “Beyond being heard, what do you want—for yourself, for this kingdom?”

You paused, caught between the expectations you carried and the questions he posed. Finally, you replied, “I want what any ruler would want—a prosperous kingdom. Stability.”

“A prosperous kingdom… Do you think it possible to make this land prosperous once more without the tactics employed in Goguryeo?”

You eyed him carefully, keeping your thoughts shuttered. “The tactics my father uses work, and the kingdom’s wealth and stability are proof enough.”

Jimin’s gaze remained steady, calm, but determined. "And at what cost? Stability for whom?"

His words struck a nerve, and your defenses flared. You forced a neutral expression despite the disquiet bubbling beneath the surface. “Sometimes fear is necessary to maintain control," you replied, echoing your father’s teachings, though they felt hollow on your lips.

Jimin’s gaze remained steady. "Control through fear only breeds resentment and rebellion. What if there’s another way? A way to rule with compassion?”

Your chest tightened. His idealism made you uncomfortable, not because you disagreed with him—deep down, you longed for the same—but because it made your task that much harder. Jimin wasn’t the meek, ineffective man you had been prepared to manipulate. He was something else. And that made him dangerous to your mission.

"I have a duty to my family, to my kingdom," you said, turning away, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing heavily on your shoulders.

"And what about your duty to yourself, to this kingdom?" he asked quietly, leaning closer. "Is Goguryeo the type of kingdom you dream of?”

His words hung in the air, too close to the truth you had hidden—even from yourself. You couldn’t answer him. You didn’t dare.

Later that night, after parting ways with Jimin, you crept silently through the palace halls. The moonlight barely lit the narrow passages as you slipped into the royal archives, each shadow deepening the air of secrecy around you. Tonight, you had a specific goal: the import and export merchants' ledger, a document your father had requested urgently.

Steeling yourself, you began your search, skimming through scrolls and rifling through countless ledgers stacked along the shelves. The quiet around you felt tense, as though the walls themselves bore witness to your act of betrayal. Time passed as you worked quickly but methodically, until finally, your fingers brushed over the leather-bound volume you sought. The ledger—proof of Silla's trade routes and resources—was in your hands.

Pausing for only a moment, you pulled out a piece of parchment and penned a message to your father, updating him on your progress:

Gaining the advisors' trust is proving difficult, but I will continue working to earn Jimin’s confidence and fulfill my duty to you. This ledger will serve you well.

Satisfied, you tucked both the ledger and the letter safely away and quickly exited the archives, making your way to find your one trusted servant, who waited faithfully in the courtyard.

“Take these,” you whispered urgently, passing the ledger and letter into the servant’s hands. “Deliver them to the man my father has stationed in Silla City. He will know what to do.”

The servant nodded, eyes wide with understanding. “I will make sure it reaches him safely, Your Highness.”

“Be quick, and keep to the shadows,” you instructed. “This must remain unseen.”

With a bow, your servant tucked the documents under their cloak and slipped away into the night.

Jimin’s assurances had granted you privacy and independence, allowing you to roam without constant oversight, and you began to enjoy life within the palace walls. The grand library became a sanctuary, where hours slipped past unnoticed as you lost yourself in the scrolls and books stacked along towering shelves. The solitude there was calming – in the quiet spaces between the pages, you almost forgot the purpose that had brought you to Silla.

Despite your newfound freedom, however, unease lingered. You hadn’t received any word from Goguryeo. Though you’d sent your servant with the ledger and the letter days ago, which she returned within hours that same night to assure your father’s man had received the information, each passing day without a response tightened a knot of tension in your chest. You spent your days wandering the gardens with Jimin, exchanging guarded words, and retreating to the library when you could, but the waiting chipped away at your patience.

Then, one evening as you were seated in the library, lost in the rich histories and tales of distant lands, your servant approached with an envelope bearing your father’s insignia. Heart pounding, you took the letter, nodding for the servant to leave before breaking the seal.

Your father’s words were as cold and commanding as ever:

Your last report raises concern. The advisors will not yield; they are entrenched in Jimin’s favor and will become an obstacle to our goals. The marriage alone will not suffice. You will need to remove Jimin from the picture. After the consummation, you must do away with him. I will handle King Minseok and the others.

A chill ran through you. The severity of his demand was clear – no subtlety, no mercy. Your duty was not just to marry – but to eliminate. You stared at the letter’s contents for several moments, feeling a tremor run through you. This was the ultimate test of loyalty, the decisive move in your father’s game.

For a long time, you sat in silence, the reality sinking in. This wasn’t simply about gathering information or playing the role of a dutiful princess. It was a deadly order that would leave you tethered to Goguryeo in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 

Jimin's words echoed in your mind, haunting and persistent – What about your duty to yourself, to this kingdom? Is Goguryeo the type of kingdom you dream of? The sheer intensity of his voice cut through the silence in your head, forcing you to confront the bitter truth. Could you reconcile your dreams with the ruthless expectations placed upon you? The weight of his questions pressed down on you, leaving you to grapple with the disconnect between your aspirations and the reality of your situation.

[mrsparkjimin18]

of crowns and daggers: the trilogy

🫅 pairing: prince!Jimin x princess!f.Reader

🫅 au/genre: arranged marriage au. royalty, Korea ‘Three Kingdoms’ research, fluff, very mild smut, angst

🫅 rating: M

🫅 wc: 12502

🫅 warnings: possible major character death, murder plotting, minor character death

summary: Blinding moonlight dances off the dagger’s blade, its cold shimmer piercing through the night as you grip the handle with unwavering resolve. You straddle your new husband, Prince Jimin, the weight of your destiny pressing heavily upon your shoulders. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, sharpening your senses as the blade’s edge hovers dangerously close to his carotid artery. Your father’s voice reverberates in your mind, a relentless mantra: “Cut the head off the snake, and the body dies.”

The moonlight continues its silent vigil, a stark witness to the moment of betrayal that both binds and separates you. The air is thick with the gravity of your actions, the promise of power and vengeance colliding with the personal cost of your duty. This is the moment where love and loyalty are torn apart by destiny’s cruel hand, where every choice shapes the course of the future, and where the echoes of your father’s command hold sway over your heart.

The future unfurls from this point, marked by the weight of a decision that will ripple through the pillars of power and the depths of personal sacrifice. In this fleeting instant, the world holds its breath, and the path ahead is irrevocably altered. But, the lines blur, and suddenly, you're not sure who the real enemy is: the one in your bed or the one guiding your hand.

🫅a/n: This wicked treat was written for @colormepurplex2 as part of the @bangtanwritershq’s Halloween Gifting Writing Event:  Sweet Tricks & Wicked Treats!

special thanks to the beta readers: @hisunshiine @lo1k-diamonds @moonleeai, without your help in the end this story would never have been completed!!!

part 1: under the mask of loyalty

part 2: bound by duty, torn by desire

part 3: uncertain fate