Archive of Our Own

The wood beneath Heeseung's palms was rough and warm, a comforting sensation that grounded him in the familiar. The scent of sap mingled with the dusty aroma of summer, creating a unique perfume that seemed to belong only to this place. Below, the muffled sounds of adults drifted up to him, their voices a distant hum that seemed to shift and change with each passing moment. Plans were being made, decisions reached, and Heeseung was left on the outside, his presence in the room forgotten.

Lotte World had been promised, a day of thrills and laughter that he had eagerly anticipated. He had woken up early, his heart pounding with excitement, only to find that the promise had been swept away like a sandcastle at high tide. Now, all that remained was a dull, stubborn weight in his chest, a heavy stone that seemed to pull him down into the rough planks of the treehouse floor.

This place, his treehouse, was the only sanctuary he had left. Crooked boards and uneven nails, repainted every year despite his protests, formed the walls of his private haven. No one was allowed inside without his permission, and that rule was sacrosanct. It made this place feel safe, a fortress against the world outside.

Heeseung sat cross-legged, staring at the floor, when the ladder creaked. Once. Then again. He looked up just in time to see a head pop through the opening, dark hair sticking up in a messy tangle, eyes bright with curiosity instead of caution.

"Oh," the boy said, as if he had been expecting to find him. "So this is where you went."

Heeseung's response was immediate and defensive. "You're not allowed up here."

The boy blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but it was quickly replaced by a grin. He hauled himself inside, clumsy and loud, his knee knocking against the wood as he barreled in like the rule didn't exist. He plopped down across from Heeseung, close enough that their shoes nearly touched.

"I'm Sim Jaeyun," he said, sticking his hand out as if they were grown-ups. Then he tilted his head, smiling wider. "But you can call me Jake. We're friends now."

Heeseung stared at the outstretched hand, his mind racing. "We are?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jake nodded, easy and sure. "Yeah."

Heeseung didn't know what to do with that. He shook Jake's hand anyway, the gesture feeling awkward and unfamiliar. Jake looked around the treehouse, his eyes lighting up as he took in the small space.

"This is cool. You built this?" Jake asked, his voice filled with genuine interest.

"My dad did," Heeseung said quietly, a hint of pride creeping into his voice despite himself.

Jake nodded, impressed. "Still cool."

There was a pause after that, awkward and unfamiliar. Heeseung hugged his knees to his chest, waiting for the boy to get bored and leave. But Jake didn't. Instead, he leaned back against the wall and started talking about Lotte World, about the rides and the noise and how the drop on the roller coaster made his stomach feel like it vanished. He talked with his hands, with his whole face, like the world was something exciting instead of disappointing.

Without meaning to, Heeseung laughed. The sound surprised him, and Jake noticed immediately, smiling like he had been hoping for it. They played until the light shifted and the air cooled, until voices from below called Jake's name. When it was time for him to go, Jake lingered at the ladder, fingers curled around the edge.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he said, like it was already decided. "You can show me more stuff."

Heeseung nodded before he could stop himself. That night, lying in bed, he felt something settle in his chest, soft and aching, not quite sadness. The treehouse felt emptier without Jake in it, and that absence lingered longer than it should have.

Heeseung didn't know then what the feeling meant. He just knew he wanted it again.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The soft hum of the living room wrapped around them like a warm blanket. Jake curled deeper into the plush, oversized couch, the kind that only a mansion could hold comfortably, his large belly sinking slightly into the cushions, a weight that anchored him to the space. Layla rested against him, her warm, furry body a comforting presence, letting out a contented sigh every so often. The gentle thump of her tail against the cushions and the low rhythm of her snores mingled with the quiet ticking of the clock, creating a lullaby that coaxed Jake toward drowsiness.

Faint sounds of staff moving about the house drifted in from the hallway: the soft clink of dishes being set, footsteps on polished floors, and the quiet hum of preparation for dinner. The aroma of roasted vegetables and something sweet from the kitchen mingled with the warm scent of vanilla from the flickering candles on the mantel, wrapping the room in a comforting, homely cocoon.

His hand came to rest protectively over his bump, fingers tracing tiny circles as he let himself drift, the scent of Layla, warm and familiar, mixing with the subtle hint of Heeseung’s cologne lingering on the couch from earlier.

A subtle creak, the front door opening and closing, pulled him from his half-sleep. Jake’s eyes fluttered open to see Heeseung standing in the doorway, framed by the golden light spilling from the hall.

“Hyung, you’re home,” Jake murmured, a lazy smile spreading across his face, the kind of smile that comes from pure, easy comfort, earned after long days and quiet waits.

Heeseung’s eyes softened, sparkling as he stepped closer, voice low and warm. “Hi, pretty,” he said, using Jake’s favorite nickname, “and how are my three favorite people?”

Jake chuckled, rubbing his belly as Layla nudged against him. “I think she can tell you’re her daddy by your voice,” he said softly, laughing. “She goes crazy every time you talk.”

Heeseung grinned and knelt beside the couch, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Jake’s forehead. “She’s got excellent taste, pretty,” he whispered, brushing a hand gently over Jake’s cheek. Layla’s tail thumped happily at the touch, her ears perking up as if she understood the declaration.

Jake tilted his head into Heeseung’s hand, eyes closing again, letting the warmth of both dog and husband fill him with quiet contentment.

“I don’t think I tell you this enough,” Heeseung murmured, fingers lingering at Jake’s jaw. “But… you mean everything to me. Every single thing. You’ve always been my world, and I, ”

Before he could finish, Jake’s eyes welled up. He tried to blink it away, tried to stay composed, but the tightness in his chest and the way Heeseung looked at him with that soft, unwavering affection was too much. Tears spilled over, sliding down his cheeks.

Heeseung froze. “What… what? Why are you crying?” he asked, a mixture of confusion and concern in his voice.

Jake hiccupped through a laugh, trying to hide his face in his hands. “You… you can’t say that to an eight-month pregnant omega,” he said, voice breaking with emotion. “It’s… it’s cruel!”

Heeseung laughed, a warm, surprised laugh, shaking his head as he pulled Jake into a hug, careful of his bump. “Cruel? Really?” he teased, pressing kisses to the top of his head and shoulders. “You’re crying because I’m honest about how much I love you?”

Jake sobbed softly into Heeseung’s chest, still trying to cover his face, muffled laughter mixing with tears. “I… I just… can’t handle it,” he whispered.

Heeseung hugged him tighter, chuckling, resting his cheek against Jake’s hair. “You’re dramatic, pretty,” he said gently, “but I love every little bit of you. Tears, laughter, snuggles… all of it.”

Jake relaxed into the embrace, letting himself cry into Heeseung’s chest, the soft warmth of the plush couch, the dog, and his husband wrapping around him like a cocoon. After a long, shuddering exhale, Jake peeked from between his fingers, a watery smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, still clinging to Heeseung.

Heeseung laughed again, nuzzling his nose against Jake’s temple. “Yeah… but you love me,” he said, squeezing him gently. “And I love you. Always.”

Jake leaned back slightly, pressing one hand over his heart and the other over his belly. “I… I do,” he whispered, voice still trembling, “more than I’ve ever been able to say.”

Heeseung smiled softly, settling beside Jake on the couch, fingers brushing lightly over Jake’s hand as Layla rested her head between them. The quiet warmth of their little family, the soft scent of vanilla, the gentle musk of Layla’s fur, and the subtle hint of Heeseung’s cologne, wrapped around them like a protective, infinite blanket. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sun cast a warm, golden glow across the classroom that afternoon, its rays dancing across Jake’s hair, turning it into a shimmering halo. Heeseung, tucked away in a corner, feigned interest in his notebook, but his gaze kept drifting back to Jake. The way Jake’s head tilted when he laughed, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, it was almost too much to bear.

Jake was telling a story, his hands gesturing wildly, his voice low and infectious. "And then, you won't believe what happened next," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Heeseung felt a flutter in his chest, a feeling he couldn’t name, a sensation that made his heart race and his palms sweat.

As the day wore on, Heeseung found himself replaying that moment over and over. The sound of Jake’s laugh, soft yet infectious, echoed in his memory. The way the sunlight caught Jake’s hair, making it seem like it was painted with gold, was etched into his mind. Even the subtle warmth of Jake’s presence, the casual ease of being near him, was something Heeseung couldn’t shake.

Walking home, Heeseung realized the truth. It wasn’t just a passing crush or a fleeting attraction. It was something deeper, something that had taken root in his heart without his permission. He knew, with a visceral certainty, that he was in love with Jake.

He tried to push it aside, to focus on other things. He dated, laughed at other people’s jokes, and attempted to imagine a future with someone else. But every time he closed his eyes, Jake’s face was there, smiling, laughing, teasing. It was impossible to escape.

Heeseung started avoiding Jake, leaving rooms when he entered, replying to texts with delay, and pretending indifference when inside, he ached. He told himself it was better this way, that distance was safer. He didn’t trust himself to survive the heartbreak if he let himself stay too close.

But no matter how hard he tried, no one could compare to Jake. Every smile, every gesture, every spark in someone else’s eyes faded against the memory of Jake. So, he pushed. Hardened. Distanced himself. Tried to sever the tether of their once-close friendship, believing it would hurt less in the long run. But deep down, Heeseung knew it wouldn’t ever work. Jake was permanent.

One evening, sitting alone in his room, Heeseung’s mind drifted to the word "omega." Jake, an omega. Relief, guilt, and longing warred inside him. He imagined running away with Jake, leaving behind family names, contracts, and expectations. A world where no one knew them, where no one could tell them who they had to be or who they had to marry. It was beautiful, impossible, dangerous.

And yet, he didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Because his family’s demands loomed like a shadow he couldn’t escape. Because Jake’s life and his own were tangled with obligations too big to untangle. He closed his eyes, whispering apologies into the darkness, knowing that their hands would remain separate, even as his heart ached to hold Jake’s.

The engagement announcement was a cruel joke. Heeseung stared at the official photograph on the family website, the staged smiles, the polished rings gleaming under professional lights. The photo exuded joy and promise, but for him, it was pain. He had to attend the photoshoot himself, forced to smile beside Jake as cameras clicked relentlessly. Their shoulders barely touched; the space between them carried years of tension, silent assumptions, and the knowledge that neither of them had acted on what they truly felt.

Every laugh was hollow, every glance careful. It wasn’t like before, the ease of friendship, the comfort of shared secrets. They were both pretending to be okay, pretending to belong in this picture-perfect moment that felt wrong.

And yet, somewhere deep, Heeseung couldn’t stop thinking: he still loved Jake. He had never stopped. He held the engagement photo in his hands, stared at the ring, at Jake’s hand, at Jake’s perfect smile. He felt dizzy. Disbelief clawed at his chest. How could it be him? How could Jake, the boy who had haunted him for over a decade, really be here, tethered to him forever?

But the space between them in photographs, the tense distance in smiles, the careful politeness, it reminded him painfully that their friendship had shifted. Both had assumed the other didn’t feel, both had held back, and now here they were, forced into an arrangement that neither dared fully enjoy.

Heeseung’s pulse thudded in his ears. He had loved Jake for so long, silently, painfully, fearing the worst. And now, standing here, reality refused to feel like a gift.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and fresh linens, mixed with the soft, sweet scent of their newborn. Jake rested in the hospital bed, cradling their daughter against his chest in the first tentative moments of skin-to-skin contact. Her tiny fingers curled instinctively around his thumb, her soft sighs and small blinks mesmerizing him.

Heeseung knelt at his side, one hand resting on Jake’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the baby. “Look at her,” he whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “Look at her little face… she’s all ours.”

Jake’s heart threatened to burst. “I… I can’t believe she’s here,” he said, voice breaking. “I can’t believe she’s actually ours.”

The nurses gave them a soft, approving smile, letting the moment stretch, observing quietly as the two new parents marveled at the tiny life between them. One of them leaned in gently. “Skin-to-skin is perfect right now. It helps her regulate temperature and heartbeat. You’re doing beautifully.”

Heeseung reached over, brushing a curl from Jake’s forehead. “She knows already, you know. She knows who’s holding her.”

Jake let out a shaky laugh, eyes glimmering. “I feel… scared,” he admitted. “What if I do something wrong? What if she cries and I can’t…” His voice trailed off.

Heeseung’s hand covered his own, squeezing gently. “Then I’ll help. Always,” he said. “We’ll figure it out together. Every step. Look at her… she trusts us already.”

The nurses guided them through some basic steps, how to hold, how to support her neck, how to adjust the blanket, but it wasn’t just Jake who was learning. Heeseung watched carefully, mimicking every motion. When the baby stirred, he instinctively adjusted his grip, whispering gently, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, little one.”

Jake watched him, heart swelling. “You’re… amazing with her,” he said softly. “Look at you, like you were born to do this.”

Heeseung’s cheeks flushed as he leaned closer, looking down at their daughter. “I… I can’t believe this,” he murmured. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

Jake laughed softly through tears, still holding the baby to his chest. “I think that’s called being a parent,” he said, voice shaking. “I think we’re supposed to feel this… terrified, and awe-struck, and… completely overwhelmed.”

The nurses encouraged Jake to attempt feeding, guiding him to hold their daughter close, helping her latch. Jake’s hands trembled as the baby fussed at first, unable to latch properly. Panic and self-doubt flickered across his face. “I… I’m doing something wrong,” he whispered.

Heeseung leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Jake’s temple, his hand over his. “No, pretty. You’re doing perfectly. Let me help,” he said softly. He guided Jake’s hands, adjusted the baby’s head carefully, and whispered gentle instructions. “See? A little tilt… like this. She’s learning… she’s perfect.”

With Heeseung’s help, Jake relaxed slightly, and their daughter latched finally, taking her first proper feed. Jake exhaled, relief washing over him. “Oh… oh, she’s doing it!”

Heeseung smiled, eyes glimmering. “You did it,” he said, voice filled with pride.

The nurse had just reminded them that Jake needed to take it slow for his first bath. “Take it one step at a time,” she said kindly. “And let him help you. He’s here for a reason.”

Heeseung immediately moved closer, his hand on Jake’s back, steady and warm. “I’ve got you,” he murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Jake’s temple. “One step at a time. I’ll be right here.”

Jake swallowed, his stomach twisting. “I feel… wobbly,” he admitted, brow furrowing. “I don’t know if I can, ”

“You can,” Heeseung interrupted, voice firm but soothing. “And I’m right here. Every step. Always. Put your weight on me. I’ve got you.”

Jake hissed softly as he shifted, muscles aching in unfamiliar ways. His face scrunched in discomfort, eyes closing briefly as he leaned slightly into Heeseung. “Oof… that hurts,” he admitted, a hand tightening on Heeseung’s arm.

“Lean on me,” Heeseung encouraged, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got every bit of you. Just breathe. One step at a time.”

Carefully, Heeseung guided Jake to the edge of the bed. Jake hissed again, flinching slightly as his legs bore weight for the first time since giving birth. Heeseung’s hands were firm and steady on his waist and back, anchoring him. “That’s it… perfect. I’ve got you. You’re okay,” he murmured.

Jake swung his legs over slowly, jaw tightening as a small wince escaped him. He exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as the ache rippled through his legs. “I… I feel like a newborn,” he muttered, hissing softly again.

“You’re doing so well,” Heeseung said quietly, lips brushing over his temple. “Every little step matters. I’ll catch you if you falter. I’ve got you.”

They shuffled toward the bathroom slowly, Heeseung’s hand steady on Jake’s lower back. Jake’s face relaxed a little, jaw unclenching as he let himself lean into Heeseung’s arms.

Jake exhaled, leaning back slightly against Heeseung. “You’re doting on me like I’m the newborn,” he teased, voice soft but playful. “I didn’t think I’d need a babysitter.”

Heeseung laughed, low and warm. “Well, you are fragile right now,” he said, winking. “Besides, I think I look good in this role.”

Jake rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “I guess… I guess it’s nice to be pampered,” he admitted, letting himself relax slightly as the warmth of the water seeped into his sore muscles.

Heeseung stayed close the entire time, adjusting the water temperature, handing Jake the washcloth, and keeping his hands near to steady him. “Slowly… perfect… see? You’re doing it.” he whispered, pressing another quick kiss to Jake’s temple.

When it came time to wash his hair, Heeseung stepped closer, cupping Jake’s face gently with one hand to guide him, the other reaching through the curtain to take the shampoo. “Here,” he said softly. “Just tilt your head back. I’ll help you.”

Jake let him, shivering as Heeseung lathered his soft, fluffy light-brown hair. The warm water ran down his back, and the scent of the shampoo filled the small space. Heeseung’s fingers massaged gently, careful not to press too hard, but thorough enough that it felt grounding and comforting.

Jake laughed, a little breathless. “I can’t believe I’m letting you boss me around in the shower. I mean, you’re really taking this role seriously, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Heeseung replied with a grin. “It’s a serious job. You’re a delicate flower, and I’m the protective gardener.”

“Protective gardener, huh?” Jake teased, splashing lightly with the washcloth. “I hope you get paid overtime for all this doting.”

“I get paid with love,” Heeseung countered, brushing damp strands of hair from Jake’s face. “And maybe kisses. I think that’s fair compensation.”

By the time Jake had finished, he let the warmth of the water and Heeseung’s help calm him completely. “I… I feel like a baby,” he admitted, still giggling.

“You are my baby,” Heeseung said softly, brushing a gentle kiss along Jake’s jawline. “And I’ll take care of you every step of the way.”

When Heeseung helped Jake out of the shower and dried off Heeseung helped him into a soft comfortable pajama set as he guided him carefully back toward the hospital bed. Every step was slow, deliberate, full of care, and Jake rested against him, smiling through his nerves.

“There, you look adorable. And you’re mine, all mine, freshly showered and everything.”

Jake rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, smiling despite himself.

“I know,” Heeseung replied, brushing one last curl into place. “But I’m also very, very devoted. I’m just making sure my baby is safe and comfortable. That’s my job right now, to take care of you, baby you, and love every second of it.”

Once the towel had absorbed most of the dampness, Heeseung picked up a soft brush and gently combed through Jake’s hair, careful not to pull on the tiny knots. Every brush stroke was slow and deliberate, grounding Jake in the warmth of the moment.

“You always had such cute hair,” Heeseung murmured. “Fluffy, soft, impossible to mess up. I’ve always loved it.”

Jake’s face softened, and he leaned into Heeseung’s chest slightly wrapping his arms around his husband. “I’ve… never felt so taken care of,” he admitted quietly. “Even with everything, after the baby, everything, it’s… nice.”

Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head again. “You’re my world,” he whispered. “And I’ll take care of you, every day, every little moment, every tangle, every ache. Always.”

Jake’s eyes glimmered with emotion, and he reached out to hold Heeseung’s hand. “I… I think she’s going to know exactly how loved she is, growing up with you,” he said softly, glancing toward the swaddled baby.

Jake leaned into Heeseung’s side as they walked to the changing table, their daughter cradled safely in his arms. Heeseung mimicked the diapering steps on a doll first, then on their daughter, while Jake watched, taking notes silently, still in awe. Every small movement was careful, deliberate, filled with love.

Next came bath time. Jake’s anxiety spiked as the nurses demonstrated how to gently wash the baby. Heeseung knelt beside him, mirroring the steps, whispering encouragement. When Jake’s hands shook, Heeseung guided them, placing his hands over his gently, steadying him. “You’re doing great,” he murmured.

When the baby started cooing after her bath, both of them bent low, talking softly to her. “Hi, pretty girl… it’s Mommy,” Jake murmured, voice hesitant but tender. “Mommy’s here. I love you.”

Heeseung mirrored him, tone gentle and grounding. “And Daddy’s here, baby girl. We’re right here. You’re safe.”

Wheeling Jake through the hospital corridors, steadying the wheelchair as Jake cradled their daughter in his arms. The tiny bundle cooed softly, wrapped in her swaddle, and Jake’s gaze kept flicking down at her. He felt simultaneously exhilarated and terrified.

“Okay… let’s do this carefully,” Heeseung said, his voice tight with focus as they approached the car. “I’ve got her… and we’ve got all the gear…” He glanced at the car seat in the trunk, already sweating slightly under his calm exterior. “It’s just a matter of… placement and angles…”

Jake watched him, smiling softly despite his own nerves. “You’re… really stressing over this, aren’t you?” he teased gently.

Heeseung huffed a small laugh, fumbling slightly with the latch. “It’s important,” he said, voice a little defensive but still warm. “Our baby’s safety is literally in my hands. I’ve got to do it right. Every angle, every click…”

Heeseung paused for a moment, hands on the trunk, and Jake reached up, tugging gently on his husbands hoodie and leaning his forehead against his. “You know I trust you, right? You don’t have to hyper-focus this much. You’re literally the most responsible person I know.”

“I know,” Heeseung replied, eyes flicking from Jake to the car seat. “But there’s a lot riding on this. And I… I want everything to be perfect.”

“It will be perfect. You’re amazing at this. I’ve seen you take care of me for the last… what, eight hours? You’re fine.”

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, resting his forehead against Jake’s for a moment before straightening. “Okay… okay, you’re right,” he said softly.

Carefully, Heeseung secured the car seat into the base with meticulous attention, clicking the latches into place. Relief washed over him as he lifted their daughter from Jake’s arms and placed her gently into the seat, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “There you go, pretty girl,” he whispered, brushing a curl from her forehead.

“See? Nothing to worry about. You’re already a pro.”

He turned back toward Jake, eyes glinting with playful warmth. “Now… for my other baby,” he said, reaching for Jake’s hands.

Jake made grabby hands toward him, eyes sparkling, and Heeseung helped him out of the wheelchair, guiding him carefully into the back seat next to their daughter. Jake leaned foward slightly and pulled Heeseung down into a reassuring kiss, letting his arms wrap around him for a moment of grounding before Heeseung.

Jake watched him for a moment, heart swelling. “She knows,” he whispered. “She can feel how much you love her. How much you care about both of us.”

Heeseung looked up at him, eyes softening, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Jake said, brushing a finger over his cheek. “And I love you for it. All of it, your worrying, your fussing, your kisses, your hands holding mine… everything.”

He returned the wheelchair to the hospital staff, then climbed into the driver’s seat, checking the mirrors and taking a deep breath. Slowly, he started the engine and pulled out of the lot, glancing briefly at the back seat. Reaching behind him, he gently took Jake’s hand in his own, fingers curling around his in a reassuring, loving grip.

The baby cooed softly in her car seat, and for the first time, the nerves felt like part of the adventure instead of something to fear. Heeseung’s focus, his careful attention, his doting, and even his low-level stress over the car seat, it all made Jake’s heart swell. He was completely in love, completely safe, and completely ready for this new chapter.

Jake leaned back against the seat, smiling at the tiny bundle, “You really are the best dad,” he said softly.

“I’m trying,” Heeseung replied, eyes on the road, fingers brushing lightly over Jake’s hand. “But honestly… you’re making it easy to love being one.”

As they pulled up to the mansion, the staff was ready, helping them out of the car with gentle care. Jake and Heeseung made their way to the front door, Jake moving slowly but steadily as staff helped him to sit on the couch. Layla, held by one of the maids, strained against her leash, her tail wagging furiously as she recognized her owners.

Heeseung took Layla's leash, holding her close as they approached Jake and the baby carrier he had set down next to his omega. "Layla, sit," he commanded, his voice firm yet gentle. Layla obeyed, her tail wagging eagerly behind her.

"Good thing we invested time into those lessons," Jake remarked, crouching down to pat Layla. Unbuckling the baby, he cradled her in his arms, leaning her out in Layla’s direction. Her tentative sniffs turned into a series of whines as she recognized the familiar scent. Her tail wagged faster, and she gently bumped her nose against Heeseung's head, licking his cheek before nudging Jake's hand that cradled the baby.

"Good girl, Layla," Heeseung praised, patting her head gently. Layla's eyes shone with pride as she continued to sniff the baby, her tail wagging in joy. "She recognizes the scent," Jake said softly, his voice filled with wonder. "It's amazing how she remembers."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jake's memories of that day in gym class were as vivid as a snapshot captured in the warm glow of sunlight. Heeseung had knelt to tie his sneaker, his hair cascading across his forehead, and when someone tripped nearby, his laughter echoed through the room. The sound was infectious, drawing smiles from everyone, but for Jake, it was a moment etched in his heart. His chest tightened unexpectedly, a warmth spreading through him that he couldn't explain. He was barely aware of the concept of attraction, yet the sight of Heeseung's laughter, the tilt of his head, and the sparkle in his eyes left an indelible mark.

In that moment, Jake yearned to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between them. But words eluded him, and he remained silent, consumed by a strange ache that he couldn't articulate. He hoped, somewhere deep within, that Heeseung might notice him, might see the longing in his eyes.

Jake found solace in letters he never sent. Each folded page was a confession, each stroke of the pen a heartbeat he couldn't otherwise express. "Dear Heeseung, you looked so good at basketball today. I wanted to scream in front of everyone that I loved you, but I didn't. I went home instead, folding this paper like a secret I could keep, hoping you'd somehow know," he would write, his heart pouring onto the page.

Some nights, tears would stream down his face as he drifted off to sleep, imagining Heeseung with someone else. The silence between them was unbearable, every unsaid word a physical weight pressing down on his chest. He would whisper into the darkness, "Please, don't let it be someone else. Please, let it be me."

Heeseung began to pull away, slowly at first. Replies were delayed, smiles were distracted, and laughter didn't reach his eyes. Jake was confused. They had been inseparable, confidants, and partners in mischief. But now, Heeseung seemed distant, cold, and unreachable.

Jake tried to match his friend's distance, wondering if he had done something wrong. He replayed their conversations, searching for mistakes, and poured his heart into letters that would never be read. The ache in his chest grew, and he found himself crying more often than he wanted to admit. Curled up in bed, pillow pressed to his face, he would imagine what it would feel like to hold Heeseung's hand, to be seen, to be loved in return.

"Why won't you let me in?" he whispered into the dark, exhausted by his own love and the silence between them.

Heeseung was an alpha, and Jake was an omega. In their society, this made everything both possible and impossible. Jake could imagine a life with him, but the chains of expectation, family pressure, and social rules were impossible to break. He prayed quietly, nightly, to anyone listening. "Maybe someone, somewhere, will hear me. Maybe fate will bend in our favor," he hoped.

He dreamed of running away with Heeseung, hand in hand, no one able to follow, no one able to stop them. A secret world for the two of them, where love was enough. But each night, he fell asleep knowing it could never happen. Still, he wrote another letter, tucked it in a box, and whispered into the dark, "Please hear me. Please let this be enough."

Every birthday, every small triumph, every laugh Heeseung shared with someone else, Jake imagined himself there, uninvited, desperate to be noticed. Passing him in the hall became a study in restraint. Every glance made his chest ache, every touch from someone else a new wound. Letters stacked high in drawers, confessions never sent, love never spoken aloud.

He tried to distract himself with school, friends, anything. But in the quiet, the ache returned, persistent and sharp. "Why do you pull away?" he asked the empty room, unable to understand why Heeseung's heart felt unreachable, why his own letters remained unsent, why his love was always a step behind.

Jake attended the engagement photoshoot. The same cameras, the same smiles, the same staged joy he had seen Heeseung endure years ago. And yet, it didn’t feel right. Not to him. Not to either of them. Heeseung’s hand brushed his in the photos, so careful, so measured. Their smiles didn’t reach their eyes. The tension between them was palpable, a silent reminder that neither knew if the other felt the same.

Jake couldn’t believe it. They were supposed to be together, supposed to finally have the chance, and yet it was still awkward, tense, uncertain. The Heeseung in front of him, so close yet untouchable, still left Jake questioning everything.

He spent the night curled up, thinking of every moment he had loved quietly, every letter never sent, every cry into the darkness, and wondered if Heeseung had felt even a fraction of the same.

And finally, the moment came. Standing in front of Heeseung, Jake let himself breathe, let himself speak the words that had haunted him for over a decade: "I’ve loved you for so long. I’ve missed you every day. I don’t care how long it took, I just need you to hear me."

Years of longing, heartbreak, unanswered questions, and quiet devotion spilled from him. For the first time, Heeseung could hear it, see it, feel it. And as Heeseung listened, as their hands finally touched, Jake felt a fragile, trembling hope settle in his chest: maybe love really could survive everything, even distance, misunderstandings, and time itself.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As Jake and Heeseung settled into their new routine at home, they found themselves navigating the uncharted waters of parenthood together. The days blurred into one another, sleep-deprived mornings melting into afternoons filled with diaper changes, feedings, and the constant hum of laundry running somewhere in the house. It was exhausting in a way neither of them had fully anticipated. And yet, every challenge was softened by the quiet magic of watching their daughter grow.

Every coo, every tiny yawn, every delicate stretch of her fingers reminded them why the exhaustion was worth it. Their bond, already strong, deepened with each passing day, threading them closer together in ways neither of them had known how to name before.

One evening, as the sky outside deepened into a velvety twilight, Jake paced the living room, gently bouncing their daughter in his arms. Her tiny fists fluttered and clenched, soft whimpers cutting through the low hum of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the wall clock. Jake’s brow was furrowed with worry, his movements careful but restless as he tried to soothe both the baby and himself.

Heeseung lingered in the doorway, watching quietly. He knew that look, the tension in Jake’s shoulders, the way his jaw set when he felt like he was failing, even when he wasn’t.

“Hey,” Heeseung said softly, stepping closer. “Here. Let me try.”

Jake hesitated for half a second before handing her over. Heeseung took their daughter with practiced tenderness, settling her easily against his chest. He cradled her close, his body relaxed, his breathing slow. A low, almost subconscious hum rumbled from his chest, steady and warm.

Slowly, almost miraculously, the cries faded. Her tiny fists loosened, fingers curling into the fabric of Heeseung’s shirt as she nuzzled closer, soothed by the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jake’s shoulders finally slackened. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“How did you do that?” he asked quietly, awe and relief woven into every word.

Heeseung glanced up, lips curving into a small, teasing smile, though his eyes stayed soft as they lingered on Jake’s exhausted expression. “I think she likes me more,” he said lightly.

Jake scoffed and gently thumped him with the baby’s blanket. “Is that so?” he said, settling beside him on the couch.

“Pretty,” Heeseung added quickly, smiling, “I’m kidding.” His voice softened. “I think she can sense how worried you are. Your pheromones might stress her out a little, it’s not your fault.”

Jake leaned into him, resting a tired cheek against Heeseung’s shoulder. For a moment, the warmth of their closeness and the quiet rhythm of their daughter’s breathing felt like enough.

But later, when the baby had been settled and the house had finally gone quiet, Jake sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them.

The weight of it all pressed down on him at once. Every feeding. Every cry. Every tiny decision that felt impossibly important. The fear sat heavy in his chest, sharp and relentless.

Heeseung noticed immediately.

He crossed the room and sat beside him, easing Jake into a gentle embrace. “Hey,” he murmured, arms firm and steady around him. “Hey, Jaeyun.”

Jake’s breath hitched at the sound of his real name.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Jake whispered, voice breaking. “I feel like I’m drowning. What if I’m not good enough for her? What if I mess her up?”

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at him, one hand coming up to brush away the tears clinging to Jake’s lashes. “Jaeyun,” he said again, slower this time, grounding. “You’re an amazing mother. Our daughter is so lucky to have you. And you’re not doing this alone, we’re in this together.”

Jake shook his head weakly. “But what if, ”

“Shh.” Heeseung leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Jake’s forehead. “No ‘what ifs.’ We’ll figure it out as we go. You’re doing great. I promise you, I’m right here. Always.”

Jake sniffed, eyes still glassy, then frowned slightly as the words finally caught up to him.

“Wait,” he murmured, lower lip jutting out in a small pout. “You… you used my real name.”

Heeseung let out a quiet chuckle, the tension easing from his shoulders. He lifted a hand and gently rubbed Jake’s bottom lip with his thumb, affectionate and fond. “Yeah,” he said softly, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “That’s how serious it is.”

Jake huffed out a weak laugh through the remnants of his tears. “That’s unfair,” he muttered, but he leaned into the touch anyway.

“You’re everything we need,” Heeseung continued gently. “And right now, you need a break, from the worry, from the pressure. From being so hard on yourself.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Like what?”

Heeseung’s voice dropped, warm and intimate. “Like this.”

He kissed him, slow, deliberate, grounding. Nothing rushed. Nothing overwhelming. Just enough to remind Jake that he wasn’t alone, that he was loved, that he was safe. Jake melted into him, the tight knot in his chest finally loosening as he focused on the steady beat of Heeseung’s heart beneath his hands.

When they parted, Jake was flushed and breathless, but lighter.

“Better?” Heeseung asked softly.

Jake nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Much. Thank you.”

Heeseung pulled him into a firm embrace, rocking them gently on the bed. “Anytime, pretty. Anytime.”

They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped around each other in the quiet, the kind that didn’t need words. From the nursery, their daughter’s soft snores drifted through the monitor, a gentle reminder of the life they were building together.

And in that stillness, even with the fears and the sleepless nights ahead, Jake knew one thing for certain:

He was exactly where he was meant to be.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The walls of the study felt colder than usual, the afternoon sun falling in narrow golden stripes across the polished floor. Heeseung sat stiffly in the leather chair, fingers drumming lightly against the armrest, listening to the familiar cadence of his father’s clipped voice.

“You understand your responsibilities as heir to the company, yes?” his father asked, voice precise, almost clinical. “Your future is not yours alone. There are duties to uphold, alliances to maintain. The family name, the company’s legacy, all rest on your actions. You will act with honor.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened. “I understand, sir,” he said, though every fiber of him rebelled. He had worked his whole life to prove himself capable, to prepare for the role of heir, yet now it felt like a cage. His choices, his feelings, his freedom, everything, were secondary to the company’s plans, to the legacy imposed upon him.

“You will be married,” his father continued, the weight of inevitability pressing down on him. “This is not a request. You will honor the family’s position and ensure the company’s future.”

Heeseung’s chest tightened, panic threading through the anger. “And what if I refuse?” he asked, voice low but trembling.

“Then you will bring shame to yourself and to this family. And you will regret it,” his father said flatly, the threat unmistakable.

Heeseung’s hands clenched into fists on the arms of the chair. The room felt suddenly too small, the walls closing in. He had imagined running away, ignoring it, finding a loophole… anything. But the truth pressed down: he had no choice. Every dream, every fleeting thought of someone he could love freely, seemed to vanish.

And yet, even in that despair, his mind wandered, unbidden, to one person: the boy who had always made his chest ache. But now, he could not reach him, could not risk a glance or a touch, because to love, to act, would be dangerous.

Heeseung leaned back, exhaling slowly. The room was silent except for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock, but inside him, a storm raged. Every beat of his heart whispered: I don’t want this. I won’t let this ruin everything I could have felt.

The dining room felt too large, too silent, as Jake sat across from his mother. The heavy curtains blocked most of the evening light, but the dim glow of the chandelier only highlighted the tension etched into her face. The rain tapped faintly against the windows, a rhythm that matched the pounding in his chest.

“You are an omega, Jake,” his mother said, voice calm but sharp, the kind of calm that left no room for argument. “And as such, it is your duty to ensure the future of the family. You have responsibilities that are far greater than your own wants. You will be married according to what is best for the family. This is not a request.”

Jake’s fingers dug into the edge of the table. “My… my duty?” he repeated, voice rising, tremulous with disbelief and anger. “So because I’m an omega, I have no choice in who I marry? No say in anything that… that matters to me?”

“You are young,” his mother said, almost soothingly, yet the steel in her tone betrayed the unyielding expectation. “Your desires are secondary. The family comes first. You are part of a legacy, and the continuation of it rests on your actions. You must understand, what you feel does not always matter.”

Jake’s chest tightened. He felt the walls of the room press inward, suffocating him. “Doesn’t matter?!” His voice cracked as he rose, hands shaking, rain-soaked from the terrace still dripping onto the marble floor. “I’ve been trying to live my life! I’ve been careful, I’ve been responsible, and now… now I’m supposed to just hand over my life to someone I don’t even know?”

His mother’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, almost pitying, but the words were firm, unyielding. “You are an omega, Jake. That is the role you were born into. The family has made arrangements for your marriage, and this is not optional. You will fulfill your duty.”

Jake slammed a fist onto the table. The sound echoed through the silent room. “And what about me? What about what I want? Doesn’t anyone care that this, this, doesn’t feel right?”

“You are part of a bigger picture,” she said quietly. “You will understand when you are older, when you see the consequences of not following the plan. This… this is for your future. For the family’s future.”

Jake’s hands shook as he buried his face in them, shoulders trembling. Every fiber of him wanted to run, to scream, to fight, but he was trapped, trapped by biology, by duty, by legacy. He imagined freedom, imagined choosing, imagined someone he could love, and the impossibility of it made his chest ache.

He wanted to tell his mother about the boy who had haunted his thoughts for years, the one person he could imagine a life with, but the words faltered. The weight of expectation was too heavy, the risk of hope too dangerous. He sat there trembling, alone in the silence of the room, heart aching with a longing he couldn’t name, wishing desperately that someone, anyone, understood.

He fled to the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, the moonlight bathing his flushed face. Outside, the world moved on, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. He imagined freedom, imagined choice, imagined someone he could love without rules or contracts, and the thought that it might never happen made his chest ache.

That night, both of them lay awake in their respective rooms, staring at ceilings that offered no answers.

Heeseung’s mind replayed every word, every expression, every echo of the inevitability imposed on him. He imagined a life stolen from him, every corner of the world mapped out by others, every heartbeat tethered to duty. And yet, even in despair, one thought lingered, persistent and haunting: the boy he couldn’t reach, whose presence had always made the world sharper, brighter, more dangerous and alive.

Jake lay curled under the weight of blankets, eyes fixed on the faint patterns of moonlight on the wall. The anger, the fear, and the helplessness wove together into a tight knot in his chest. He imagined choosing, loving, risking everything, and the impossibility of it brought tears to his eyes. And in the same quiet, painful longing, a small, desperate hope flickered: maybe someone, somewhere, knew this ache, this want, this unspeakable yearning.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Even in the quiet chaos of new parenthood, the mess, the worries, the sleepless nights, there was a profound sense of home. It wasn’t a place; it was this: Heeseung, their daughter, Layla’s occasional padding around the room, and Jake leaning into it all. Here, in the soft glow of night, wrapped in warmth and love, everything else could wait.

Months later, the baby's cries pierced the quiet of the night, pulling Jake and Heeseung from their sleep. Layla, who had been sleeping in her bed, perked up at the sound, her ears twitching. She followed Heeseung as he picked up the baby, rocking her gently to soothe her.

Layla whined, her ears flattening as the baby's cries turned into wails. Overwhelmed, she retreated to hide under the bed, her tail tucked between her legs. Jake and Heeseung exchanged a glance, their hearts aching for their furry companion.

Jake took the baby, changing her diaper and feeding her until she fell back asleep. As he turned towards the bed, he found Heeseung on the floor, trying to coax Layla out from under the bed. "Is she not wanting to come out?" Jake asked, crouching next to his husband.

"Come on, girl, it's okay," Heeseung coaxed, his voice gentle as he patted the floor, trying to encourage Layla to come out. But Layla remained hidden, her whimpers the only sign of her presence.

Jake ran a hand through Heeseung's hair, his touch comforting and tired. "I think when she starts wailing, it's too loud for her ears. Remember how she used to hide during thunderstorms?"

Heeseung nodded, a sad smile playing on his lips as he shook one of Layla's toys in front of the bed, trying to entice her out. "Poor thing. She's just as much a part of this family as we are."

Jake looked at the clock on the bedside table, the digital numbers reading 2:48 am. He took a deep breath, an idea forming in his mind. "Layla, do you want to go for a walk?"

At that, Layla's tail thumped against the floor, and she rushed out from under the bed, her whole body wagging with excitement as she licked Jake's face. Heeseung chuckled, a warm glow spreading through him at the sight of Layla's happiness.

"Pretty, don’t you think it’s late, and you need sleep before she wakes again for another feeding," Heeseung said, concern etched on his face.

Jake stood up, his decision made. "Don't worry, babe, I'll be quick, 10 mins tops, just a few laps around the garden to ease her. She needs this, and so do I."

Heeseung followed suit, grabbing the baby monitor, "Let me come with you. The maids can get to her just in case of anything."

They checked in on their little girl one last time, ensuring she was sleeping peacefully before making their way out back.

Layla rushed between them, her tail wagging as Heeseung threw her ball, the three of them walking lazily under the moonlight. The night was cool, the air carrying a gentle breeze that rustled the leaves overhead. Jake slotted his elbow into Heeseung's, their steps falling into a comfortable rhythm as they strolled through the garden. The moon cast a soft, silvery glow over everything, turning the familiar landscape into a scene from a dream.

"Remember when we first brought Layla home?" Jake asked, his voice soft and nostalgic. "She was just a puppy, all legs and ears, and she chewed up half our furniture."

Heeseung laughed, the sound warm and filled with memories. "And now look at her. She's our loyal companion, our fur baby. Just like our little one is our real baby."

Jake leaned into Heeseung’s arm slung over him, his head resting on his shoulder as they walked. "I love you, hyung. Thank you for being here with me, for everything."

Heeseung pressed a soft kiss to the top of Jake's head, his arm tightening around him. "I love you too, pretty. Always and forever."

As they walked, the tension of the night began to dissipate. The gentle hum of the night insects, the soft rustle of the leaves, and the distant hoot of an owl created a soothing symphony. Jake felt his worries ebb away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment.

Layla, sensing the shift in mood, bounded ahead, her tail wagging enthusiastically as she explored the garden. Heeseung chuckled, watching her with a fond smile. "She's having a good time, isn't she?"

Jake nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "She deserves it. We all do."

They continued their leisurely pace, the garden paths lit by the soft glow of solar-powered lanterns. The world around them was quiet and serene, a stark contrast to the chaos of their daily lives. Jake took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool night air, and let out a contented sigh.

"Sometimes I forget how beautiful it is out here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung looked up at the stars, his expression thoughtful. "It's easy to get caught up in the day-to-day. But moments like this remind us why we do it all."

Jake reached up and entwined his fingers with Heeseung's, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You're right. And I'm grateful for every moment, even the challenging ones."

As they neared the end of their walk, Jake paused, turning to face Heeseung. "I'm sorry if I ever make you feel like you have to carry the weight alone. I know I can be hard on myself sometimes."

Heeseung cupped Jake's cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear. "You never have to apologize for feeling overwhelmed. We're a team, remember? Your struggles are my struggles, and your joys are my joys."

Jake leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "I just want to be the best I can be for our family. For you and for her."

"And you are," Heeseung said firmly. "Every day, you show up and give your all. That's more than enough."

They shared a tender kiss, a promise of love and support, before turning back towards the house. As they approached the door, Layla bounded up to them, her tongue lolling out in a happy pant. Jake scooped her up, nuzzling her fur.

"Good girl, Layla. You had a good walk, didn't you?" he cooed, and the dog responded with a happy whine.

Heeseung opened the door, and they slipped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping them. The baby monitor was silent, a good sign that their little one was still sleeping peacefully. Jake set Layla down, and she trotted off to her bed, curling up with a contented sigh.

Jake and Heeseung made their way to the bedroom, their steps slow and deliberate. As they climbed into bed, Jake snuggled close to Heeseung, finding comfort in his embrace. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the night outside and the gentle rhythm of their breathing.

"Goodnight, pretty," Heeseung murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Jake's forehead.

"Goodnight, hyung. I love you," Jake whispered back, already drifting off to sleep.

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside faded away. The fears, the doubts, and the sleepless nights were still there, waiting for the morning. But in that moment, surrounded by love and warmth, Jake and Heeseung found their sanctuary, a place where they could be themselves, where they could face the challenges of parenthood together, and where they could cherish the quiet magic of watching their family grow.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The chandelier sparkled like a constellation over the ballroom, scattering light across polished marble floors. Crystal glasses chimed, silk skirts brushed past tailored suits, and polite laughter rose and fell with the soft swell of a string quartet. Heeseung stood near the center of it all, posture perfect, expression composed, the image of the company’s heir. Every smile he gave was measured, every word deliberate, every movement watched.

Then, across the room, his breath caught.

Jake.

He stood near the edge of the crowd, half-shadowed by towering floral arrangements, fingers twisting nervously at his sleeve. His hair was neat, dry, softly curled at the nape of his neck, his expression strained in a way Heeseung knew too well. For a moment, the noise of the ballroom dulled, fading into something distant and hollow.

Jake felt it at the same time.

He looked up, and their eyes locked.

The world narrowed to that single point of connection. The crowd blurred. The music softened. Fourteen years of longing, restraint, and unspoken truth pressed into one suspended second. Jake’s chest tightened painfully, heart thundering as Heeseung held his gaze, steady, intense, unreadable. It felt like being seen and denied all at once.

Heeseung wanted to move. Wanted to cross the room, to say something, anything, but the weight of watching eyes, of legacy and expectation, pinned him in place. As heir, every step he took was already decided for him. Wanting Jake felt dangerous. Acting on it felt impossible.

Jake broke eye contact first.

Jake’s chest tightened at the same instant. The room felt suddenly claustrophobic, the music, the laughter, the conversation, all unbearable. His mother’s words echoed in his mind, relentless and sharp: You are an omega. Your desires are secondary. You must marry for the family. And yet, seeing Heeseung, strong, poised, untouchable, made all the rules feel cruel, suffocating, impossible. Every fiber of him wanted to run toward him, to speak, to reach out, but the weight of obligation and fear rooted him in place.

Heeseung’s eyes never left Jake as he finally excused himself from the crowd, slipping through the double doors into the terrace. The rain had started hours ago, soft at first, then insistent, drumming against the stone tiles of the courtyard. Heeseung followed instinctively, drawn by the sight of Jake standing alone, soaked and tense, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

The evening air was cool, mist curling around the hedges, carrying the faint scent of wet grass and roses from the gardens. Heeseung hadn’t planned to linger. He hadn’t planned to see anyone. Yet here he was. And there was Jake.

Their eyes met for a fleeting second. Heeseung felt it: a pulse of longing, a jolt of recognition, a shiver of “if only.” Every word he had rehearsed, the confession he had dreamed of saying, died on his tongue. Pride and fear rooted him in place, reminding him that acting on desire could be dangerous, revealing, devastating.

Jake’s shoes squelched on the stone tiles, water dripping from his soaked jacket. He hadn’t wanted to come outside, hadn’t wanted to face the ache in his chest, but the mansion’s walls pressed in too tightly. And then he saw him: Heeseung, standing just a few paces away, drenched but impossibly composed, eyes sharp yet distant. Something inside Jake flared, impossible longing, the desperate pull of familiarity, the ache of wanting someone he might never have.

He lifted a hand to push damp hair behind his ear, suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Why did Heeseung always have to look like he owned the world, even in the rain, even soaked, untouchable? He wanted to speak, to bridge the impossible gap, to tell him about the letters he had written, the longing he’d carried in silence for years. But the fear of rejection, the coldness that had occasionally marked Heeseung’s demeanor, the weight of obligation, he was trapped in his own silence.

Heeseung took a step closer, just enough that the breeze carried the faint scent of Jake’s shampoo, familiar and distracting. He wanted to speak, to say the words that could ease both of their hearts: I’ve always felt the same. I’ve always wanted you. But the consequences, the legacy, the unspoken rules held him fast.

“Jake…” he whispered, voice barely audible over the rain.

Jake’s head snapped up, eyes wide, vulnerable, glistening with rain. Heeseung felt the ache in his chest mirror Jake’s, the longing, the hesitation, the desperate desire to close the distance and speak freely. But he couldn’t. Pride, fear, duty, they were chains around his heart.

Jake stepped back instinctively, shoulders stiff, disappearing toward the mansion hall. The rain fell harder, soaking them both, as if the storm itself mourned the words left unspoken.

He wanted to call Heeseung back, to shout, to throw caution aside. I’ve loved you since I was ten. I’ve always… always wanted you. But the words caught, choked by frustration, longing, fear. He turned back inside, chest tight, heart pounding, wishing desperately someone, anyone, could understand.

That night, both lay awake in their respective rooms, drenched by lingering rain and unresolved longing. Heeseung imagined Jake’s damp hair, the subtle furrow of his brow, the curve of his lips when he was frustrated and beautiful all at once. He wanted to act, to reach out, but chains of expectation and duty held him fast.

Jake replayed every glance, every heartbeat, every missed word. He ached for a connection that had almost happened, that might never happen. He imagined Heeseung turning to him, smiling softly, telling him everything, truth, desire, love, but even imagining it was dangerous, painful.

Neither knew, yet, that the other felt the same. That their longing, frustration, and quiet ache mirrored perfectly across the distance. That fate had already begun weaving their paths closer, even as they stumbled in the dark, unsure, yearning, desperate for a chance that might not yet exist.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Her room smelled faintly of baby lotion and clean linen, sunlight spilling in through the tall windows and warming the pale rugs beneath their feet. Jake nudged the laundry basket with his foot, bending carefully to gather soft onesies and a discarded blanket, shifting the baby higher on his hip when she let out a small sound of protest.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pressing his cheek briefly to her hair. “I know. Movement’s rude.”

She huffed softly, unimpressed, her fingers clutching at his shirt like she might anchor herself there.

One of the housekeepers hovered nearby, already stepping in to help, hands reaching for the basket before Jake could even think twice.

“I’ve got it, well,” Jake corrected himself with a quiet laugh, glancing down at the baby, “mostly. Could you carry this for me?”

She smiled easily and lifted the basket without a second thought, falling into step behind him as Jake headed into the hallway.

Layla trotted ahead of them, nails clicking softly against the floor, tail wagging lazily as if she were escorting the group somewhere important. Jake watched her for a moment before tilting his head toward the windows lining the corridor.

“Look at that,” he said gently, angling the baby so she could see. “See the sun? It’s so bright today. So pretty.”

The baby made a small, breathy noise, eyes widening just a little.

Jake nodded seriously. “Mm-hmm. I agree. Excellent observation.”

Layla paused, glancing back at them as if checking whether they were still following.

“And you know what that means,” Jake continued, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “We might have to go for a walk in the garden later. Let the sunshine say hi to you.”

Another gurgle, louder this time, accompanied by an enthusiastic kick.

His face lit up. “Oh, that was a yes yes.”

He laughed softly, brushing his thumb over her chubby hand. “Okay, okay, don’t rush me.”

They passed the stairs, Layla weaving happily between Jake’s steps before settling back at his side.

“And we’ll bring Layla with us,” Jake added. “You love her, right? Your big fluffy sister?”

The baby squeaked, arms flailing in excitement.

Jake gasped dramatically. “Wow. That excited? I didn’t even finish the sentence.”

Layla’s tail wagged faster, like she understood she’d just been promoted.

“Guess it’s settled then,” Jake said fondly, glancing between the two of them. “Garden walk. All three of us.”

The housekeeper behind him smiled to herself as they continued on, Jake chatting softly, Layla padding proudly ahead, and the baby staring up at him like every word mattered.

In the kitchen, Jake lingered longer than necessary, “helping” where he could, passing ingredients, stirring a pot, arranging utensils, all while refusing to put the baby down. Layla trotted around his ankles, occasionally bumping him with her head or sniffing curiously at the counters.

“I can stir,” he offered, careful not to jostle the baby too much.

One of the cooks chuckled, glancing at him fondly. “You can talk to her while we do that, Mr. Jake.”

Jake glanced down at the baby, mock-offended. “See? They don’t trust me.”

She blinked up at him, tiny eyes wide and curious.

“I know, I know. Rude,” he said, giving her a soft tickle on her side. He leaned down to coo into her ear, voice sing-song. “We’re doing important work today, you and me. Stirring, tasting… ensuring this meal is absolutely perfect, right? Yes? I knew you’d agree.” She gurgled in response, a tiny squeak that Jake took as full approval.

He continued, bouncing her gently as he balanced a spoon in his free hand. “And Layla’s supervising, of course. Very professional, yes. She’s our chief quality inspector.” Layla barked once, tail wagging.

“Who’s a good chef today, huh?” Jake cooed to the baby perched on his hip. “Are we making something delicious? Yes? Ohhh, you’re nodding, I see that. Chef approval from the tiniest critic in the house!”

The baby squealed in agreement, little fists clenching the front of his shirt.

Jake glanced at the staff and whispered conspiratorially, “See? Everyone’s obsessed with you. I get it. I am too.”

One of the maids giggled softly. “She is very lucky, sir,” she said, smoothing the baby’s blanket. Another added, “We love having her around. She makes the kitchen brighter.”

Jake grinned, balancing the baby as he stirred a pot with one hand. “I know, right? We’re a great team, aren’t we, lovey?” He leaned down so she could see Layla sitting patiently beside him. “And we have the best helper, too. Aren't you, Layla? You love her, don’t you?” Layla barked once, tail wagging, and the baby squealed again. Jake laughed. “Yes! That’s twice today. You’re much better at agreeing with me than your father. Though I can say he just likes messing with me sometimes.”

Just then, a familiar presence crept into the kitchen.

“What’s going on here?”

Jake jumped slightly, spinning around, laughing as Heeseung appeared in the doorway. Before Jake could protest, Heeseung’s long arms swooped in, lifting the baby effortlessly.

“Hello, tiny criminal,” Heeseung murmured, nuzzling her belly. “Stealin’ everyone’s hearts again?”

He pretended to bite gently at her cheek, earning a delighted squeak from the baby.

Jake gasped, half exasperated, half laughing. “Heeseung!”

“She started it,” Heeseung replied with a grin, pressing a quick, warm kiss to her face before leaning down to brush a soft kiss across Jake’s lips. Jake’s hand went automatically to Heeseung’s back, rubbing gently.

“How was work?” Jake asked, voice soft.

“Same as always,” Heeseung replied, bouncing the baby gently. “But now I’m stealing her.”

“You can’t just, ” Jake began, but Heeseung shook his head, grinning.

“Yes I can. You’ve had her all day. My turn to monopolize,” he said, pressing one last rushed kiss to Jake’s lips. Then he turned toward the living room, baby tucked safely in his arms.

Jake exhaled, shaking his head fondly, as the staff shared quiet smiles, watching the gentle domestic chaos with quiet amusement. Layla followed Heeseung, tail wagging, and Jake returned to the counters, adjusting ingredients with a soft smile, feeling the warmth of the house wrap around him like a hug.

Jake stayed behind after helping the staff finish dinner prep, moving around the kitchen with quiet efficiency. He handed over utensils, stirred sauces when asked, and once the staff finished and announced there was nothing more for him to do, he nodded politely.

“Thank you. I’ll… wait until dinner’s ready,” he said softly, and without a second thought, he left the kitchen, moving toward the laundry room, eager to occupy himself while dinner simmered.

Passing the living room, Jake paused, catching sight of them. Heeseung sat on the couch, their daughter perched on his thighs, Layla lay curled beside him, tail thumping softly against the cushions. Jake’s chest warmed at the sight.

He teetered over, arms loosely folded, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “So… this is where the two of you snuck off to,” he said quietly, watching them with affection and amusement as he took in the serene moment. He carefully ran a soft finger through her hair as he came over.

Heeseung glanced up, his eyes lighting, and spoke softly, a playful invitation in his voice. “Sit down. Join us.”

Jake hesitated, “Let me fold and put her clothes away first,” he said, gesturing a thumb back over his shoulder. “I’ll come right back,” as he started to retreat.

Heeseung’s voice called after him, warm and teasing. “Hey, ”

Jake looked over his shoulder, and his breath caught as Heeseung’s gaze met his, a rare softness in his expression. “I love you,” Heeseung said quietly.

Jake melted. His cheeks flushed, and without thinking, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to Heeseung’s lips. The kiss deepened, full of passion, lingering as Jake let himself hold the moment, eyes locked on Heeseung’s.

“I love you too,” he murmured against Heeseung’s lips, his hands brushing gently over Heeseung’s shoulders.

Heeseung let out a small, chuckling breath, biting his lip and looking away for just a moment, cheeks tinged with pink. “Don’t spoil her too much while I’m gone,” Jake teased softly, voice teasing but warm, as he stepped back, smiling softly.

With that, Jake made his way to the laundry room. He carried the fresh baby clothes into her nursery, setting the basket down and beginning to fold them carefully. Tiny socks, onesies, and little mittens filled his hands.

He muttered quietly to himself as he worked, his voice gentle and fond. “Look at these… so tiny. How do you even go through so many in a day?” He inhaled, catching the scent of the baby detergent, and a warmth spread through him. “Hmm… smells so good. So… clean.”

Each fold was deliberate, each item placed carefully into the drawers. Jake marveled at the smallness of it all, the way the tiny sleeves fit in his hands, the delicate softness of the fabric. His heart swelled at the thought of how quickly she was growing, how much life could be packed into such a small body.

For a moment, he paused, resting a hand gently on the top of the folded stack, closing his eyes and smiling. “I’m so lucky… so, so lucky,” he whispered, the quiet nursery echoing with the comfort of his love and the lingering warmth of home.

As Jake made his way back to the living room, the soft patter of his socks on the wooden floor seemed to fade behind a quiet, lilting hum. He paused, recognizing the melody before he even saw them. Just like a star across my sky… Just like an angel off the page… You have appeared to my life… Feel like I’ll never be the same…

He froze for a moment, stomach tightening at the memory. Heeseung had sung this to him countless times, soft and tender, during those long nights when Jake had been pregnant with their daughter. The memories washed over him, the late nights, the anxious yet happy anticipation, the quiet glow of their nursery, the tiny kicks under his hands as Heeseung’s voice wove through the room.

A smile tugged at Jake’s lips, heart full and warm, and he silently crept the last few steps until he could see them. Heeseung sat on the couch, knees bent, their daughter perched on his thighs, leaning against him for balance. Her little hands reached up, batting at his face and tugging gently at his shirt, and Layla padded around their feet, tail wagging softly.

“Oh, my wittle heart, who’s the cutest? Whose has a piece of daddy’s heart? Are we bein’ silly tonight, huh?” Heeseung cooed, his voice soft, sing-song, full of warmth. Their daughter gurgled in response, kicking her tiny legs and letting out a squeaky laugh, eyes wide and bright as Heeseung’s fingers brushed her hair back gently.

Jake eased onto the edge of the couch, arms crossed loosely over his chest, a smile lighting up his face as he watched them. Heeseung’s quiet hum lingered in the air, a gentle, protective cocoon around the two of them.

“You’re really good at this,” Jake murmured, leaning closer, one hand brushing over Heeseung’s jaw. “She loves it when you talk like that.”

Heeseung glanced down at their daughter, grin softening as he looked back at Jake. “Of course she does. Daddy’s girl always loves her daddy,” he teased gently. “Look at her! She knows I’m hers.”

Jake leaned his head against Heeseung’s shoulder, letting himself take in the warmth of the moment. “I never thought I could love you more than I already do… but seeing you with her…” His voice faltered, thick with emotion. “…it’s something else. It’s like our love just keeps growing.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, glistening in the low light, as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Jake’s head. “I know exactly what you mean,” he whispered. “Every day, every little giggle… it just multiplies. Overflowing, like it has nowhere else to go but here, to us.”

Jake rested his hand on their daughter’s tiny belly as she wriggled happily on Heeseung’s thighs, her little fingers curling around the fabric of Heeseung’s button-up sleeves. Layla, sensing the warmth and calm, settled at their feet, nuzzling against Jake’s ankle.

The three of them sat together, a perfect little world of love and laughter, the soft hum of Heeseung’s voice weaving through the quiet room. Outside, the golden light of late afternoon filtered through the curtains, wrapping them in warmth and stillness.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jake woke slowly, the kind of waking that felt more like surfacing than opening his eyes. For a few long seconds, he didn’t move. He lay there, staring at a ceiling that wasn’t his, sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains, dust motes drifting lazily through the air. His head throbbed dully, eyes burning and crusted, lashes heavy with dried tears he didn’t remember shedding.

"Where am I?" The thought barely finished forming before memory crashed down on him all at once. The wedding. The vows spoken like obligations. The empty ballroom, cleared too quickly. The silence that followed. And then,

Jake sucked in a sharp breath as he shifted, a sudden, aching pain blooming low in his body. He froze, muscles tensing instinctively, the reality of it settling deep in his bones. His hand tightened in the sheets as he swallowed hard. "Last night."

He pushed himself upright slowly, carefully, every movement deliberate. The room swam for a moment before steadying. When he looked down, his breath caught. There, faint but unmistakable, were darkened stains against the pale sheets. Proof. Not of love. Not of tenderness. Just confirmation.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut, chest tightening painfully. His body remembered even if he wished it didn’t. The stiffness, the soreness, the dull ache that lingered like a reminder he couldn’t escape. He dragged a shaky hand through his hair and let out a humorless huff of breath. "So it wasn’t a dream. This is real. I’m really here. In a mansion that isn’t my own. In a bedroom that was supposed to be ours. Married to someone who had left before the sheets had even cooled."

His husband. The word felt strange, wrong, sitting heavy on his tongue. Heeseung. Jake glanced toward the other side of the bed. Empty. Cold. Untouched since the early hours of the morning, if Heeseung had even slept there at all. Jake already knew the answer. The guest room down the hall had been prepared long before last night, quiet, efficient, distant. Just like everything else.

A transaction. That was the word that lodged itself in Jake’s chest, sharp and unforgiving. This wasn’t a marriage. It was an agreement. A duty. If anyone asked, Heeseung wasn’t his husband. He was a partner in a deal neither of them had been allowed to refuse.

Jake swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as his feet touched the floor. He sat there for a long moment, shoulders slumped, hands resting uselessly in his lap. He felt small. Exposed. Used in a way that had nothing to do with desire. Last night hadn’t been love. It had been something done to him, not with him.

Jake swallowed hard and forced himself to stand, even as the ache protested. He straightened his spine, lifting his chin like he’d been taught his whole life, like an omega who knew his place. But as he padded toward the bathroom, each step slow and careful, one thought echoed relentlessly in his mind: "This was only the first morning. And somehow, that felt heavier than anything else."

Jake finished getting ready slowly. The bathroom was pristine, almost intimidating in how untouched it felt, marble counters, neatly folded towels, everything placed with intention. Nothing here felt lived in. Nothing smelled like him. When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he barely recognized himself: eyes still puffy despite the cold water, skin a little too pale, shoulders drawn inward like he was bracing for something.

He dressed carefully, choosing soft fabrics, movements gentle as his body protested faintly. Once he was done, he hesitated at the bedroom door. Their bedroom. The thought made his chest tighten. He stepped out into the hallway, and for a moment, all he could do was stare. The house was… enormous. Quiet in a way that felt expensive. Sunlight spilled in through tall windows, illuminating polished floors and walls adorned with understated art. Everything was elegant, restrained, curated. This wasn’t a family home buzzing with noise and overlapping lives like the one Jake had grown up in.

He’d always assumed, somehow, that Heeseung lived with his parents. Like him. Like most people in their circles did until they were forced into adulthood by marriage or obligation. But no. This place was Heeseung’s. And now, technically… his too. The thought didn’t bring comfort. It made him feel like an intruder.

Jake wandered, footsteps light, almost apologetic, as if the house might scold him for being there. He passed rooms that looked untouched, formal sitting areas, a study with the door closed, and then he stopped. A library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, dark wood filled with books of every size. Some spines were well-worn, others pristine. The scent of paper and polish lingered in the air, grounding in a way the rest of the house hadn’t been.

Jake’s shoulders eased slightly. He moved closer, eyes scanning titles, fingers hovering but not quite touching until he finally reached out and pulled one free. Before he could open it,

“Mr. Jake.”

The voice startled him so badly that the book slipped from his hands. “Oh, !” He gasped, bending down immediately. “I’m so sorry, I, ”

A maid stood a few steps behind him, hands folded neatly in front of her. She looked apologetic for startling him, but composed all the same. Jake picked the book up quickly, inspecting the cover with careful urgency, turning it over to check the spine. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated, mortified. “I didn’t mean to, ”

Even as the words left his mouth, a strange realization followed: this is mine too now. But it didn’t feel that way. Not even a little. He slid the book back into place gently, adjusting it until it aligned perfectly with the others. Then he checked it once more, just to be sure.

“Yes?” he asked softly, finally looking at her.

“Will you be joining Mr. Heeseung for breakfast?” she asked.

Jake hesitated. “I, ” He swallowed. “Um. I suppose so.”

The maid nodded with a small smile and turned to leave. Jake followed after her, pausing only once to glance back at the shelf, making sure the book was still sitting exactly where it belonged. The dining room was already set when Jake entered. Heeseung sat at the table, dressed impeccably, posture straight, newspaper open in front of him. Breakfast was laid out neatly, too neatly. Everything portioned, arranged, untouched.

Heeseung didn’t look up right away. Jake slowed, suddenly aware of himself, of his hair, still soft and a little unruly, of how he felt too fragile for such a composed space. He hovered for a second before choosing a chair across from Heeseung. Not far. But not close either. Just… separated enough. He pulled the chair out quietly and sat.

“Good morning,” Jake said, voice gentle, polite. Careful.

Heeseung’s eyes flicked up briefly. “Morning.” And then back to the paper. Jake’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of the table. He searched for something, anything, to say. “The house is… really beautiful,” he offered after a moment. “I didn’t realize you lived here alone.”

A pause. “Yes,” Heeseung replied. “I prefer it.” The words weren’t cruel. Just distant. Jake nodded, forcing a small smile. “It’s nice. Quiet.” Silence settled again, heavy and awkward. Jake glanced at Heeseung, at the sharp line of his jaw, the way his brows were slightly furrowed as if the paper required all his focus. Heeseung never met his eyes. What happened to you? Jake wondered quietly. When did you become someone who can’t even look at me? He folded his hands in his lap, shoulders drawing in, trying not to show how much the coldness stung.

“I hope you slept well,” Jake added softly. Another pause. “Yes,” Heeseung said. Then, almost as an afterthought, “I hope you did too.” Jake swallowed. “I did,” he lied easily. He looked down at his plate, at the untouched food, at the space between them that felt far wider than a few chairs.

Across the table, Heeseung turned another page of the paper, jaw tightening ever so slightly, conflicted, restrained, avoiding the one person he couldn’t afford to look at too closely. Because if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stay this distant. And Jake, soft-spoken, polite, trying so hard, sat there wondering when exactly their friendship had turned into something so unbearably formal.

Breakfast continued in silence. Jake picked at his food, nibbling quietly, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible so as not to disturb his now-alpha husband. Heeseung, meanwhile, rose from the table with measured steps, the scrape of his chair sounding louder than it should have. Jake froze, startled, heart thudding as Heeseung moved toward the doorway.

“The movers will be around noon with the rest of your stuff,” Heeseung said over his shoulder, voice steady. “I’m off to work.” And with that, he was gone, leaving Jake alone in the quiet, the house suddenly vast and heavy around him. The silence pressed down, and for the first time that morning, Jake felt just how alone he really was in a home that was supposed to be theirs.

After breakfast, Jake lingered at the table for a moment, staring after Heeseung as the front door clicked shut behind him. The emptiness of the house pressed in around him, and he realized he had no plan for what to do next. Slowly, he pushed back his chair and began to wander.

Every step revealed just how enormous the place was. High ceilings stretched overhead, marble floors gleaming in the morning light, and wide hallways lined with expensive art and polished woodwork. Jake’s own family had been well-off, yes, but compared to Heeseung’s mansion, his childhood home felt quaint, almost cozy. Here, everything screamed power and wealth, but also order and precision, just like Heeseung himself.

He wandered through the halls, eyes scanning the rooms, some furnished, some simply waiting for their owner’s touch. Eventually, he found himself back in the library. The sight of the shelves, so tall and heavy with books, made him pause. His gaze fell immediately on the book he had dropped earlier, and with a small smile, he carefully pulled it down and settled into one of the high-backed reading chairs. Opening it, he let himself sink into the quiet world of the story, the hours slipping past unnoticed.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from the pages. “Mr. Jake,” a maid’s voice said politely. Jake looked up, startled, and closed the book.

“Ah! Yes?” he asked.

“The rest of your things have arrived, sir. We’ve brought them up.”

Jake blinked, then nodded, following her down the hall. When they entered the bedroom from that morning, he froze for a moment. Fresh sheets, crisp and clean, were neatly tucked over the bed. His cheeks heated at the thought of the staff seeing the aftermath of last night, his embarrassment blooming.

“Surely this isn’t the room I’m supposed to stay in?” he asked, frowning slightly.

The maid gave a polite, professional smile. “Yes, sir. Mr. Heeseung told us you were to use this room.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “And… him?”

“He is in a different room down the hall, sir,” she replied.

Jake nodded, trying to keep the blush from spreading further. “Thank you for bringing my things up.”

“You’re welcome, sir,” she said, bowing lightly before leaving the room, letting Jake stand alone with the fresh sheets and his thoughts. He glanced around the luxurious bedroom again, still feeling out of place, still wondering what exactly this new life, this new marriage, was going to be.

The mansion was big. The house felt bigger. And now, so did the gulf between him and Heeseung, even as everything in it was technically theirs.

Jake set down another box on the floor, wiping his hands on his pants. Most of the things were mundane, clothes, personal trinkets, small reminders of his life before this marriage, but one box, heavier and more worn than the others, made his chest tighten. He stared at it for a long moment, hesitating. The tape was old, the edges fraying, as if it had been meant to remain untouched. Something in him recoiled at the thought of opening it.

But he did anyway.

Inside was a smaller, plain box, neatly tucked into the larger one. His hands trembled slightly as he lifted the lid. The first thing he saw was the stack of letters, tied together with a faded ribbon. Letters he had written, letters he had never sent, letters filled with a lifetime of unsaid words. Words for a boy he had loved deeply, tenderly, in a way that had never faded, even as the years had tried to bury it.

Jake’s fingers lingered over the top envelope, the paper soft from age, edges curling slightly. He almost didn’t want to touch them, afraid of how his heart might react, afraid that opening them would pull the past into sharp, unrelenting focus. But he needed to. He needed to remember, to feel, to honor what he had carried all these years.

As he carefully lifted the letters aside, his eyes fell on something else, a framed photograph, yellowed slightly at the edges but still vivid. Jake’s breath caught.

It was him. And Heeseung.

Jake’s 11th birthday, frozen in time. Heeseung had been standing beside him, cheeks pressed close to his, both of them laughing, wide-eyed and innocent. Jake had asked Heeseung to blow out the candles with him, and his mother had caught the moment on camera, her smile in the background soft and warm. Their closeness then had been natural, effortless, full of unguarded trust. No expectations, no arrangements, just the purity of a shared childhood.

Jake let the box settle against his knees and leaned back slightly, staring at the photo. Memories poured over him, the way Heeseung’s laughter sounded, the way his eyes shone in the sunlight, the way Jake had felt so unshakably safe beside him. That little boy’s heart had known something that the years and the obligations and the walls built around them couldn’t quite erase.

A lump rose in Jake’s throat. He had spent so long trying to forget, trying to move past the ache, trying to act like the past didn’t matter, but here it was, staring back at him with a quiet insistence. Heeseung had always been part of his story, even when the chapters had diverged, even when life had demanded they act like strangers.

Jake carefully put the photo back into the box, then ran a hand through his hair, sighing softly. He set the box aside for now, not ready to read the letters yet, not ready to fully confront what they might unleash. But just holding them, just being near them, brought a strange comfort. The past was alive here, tangled into the very house they now shared, and even though everything had changed, some part of it, some part of Heeseung and him, remained untouched.

For the first time since waking in this unfamiliar bedroom, Jake allowed himself a small, shaky smile. Maybe, just maybe, he could find his way here, among the echoes of the past and the uncertainties of the present.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The afternoon was warm and golden, sunlight filtering through the trees as a gentle breeze rustled the grass. Their daughter, now around seven months old, was crawling with determination, attempting to pull herself up whenever she saw a handhold or a promising patch of grass. To give her a safe space to explore, and a little fresh air, they had brought her to the park, spreading a blanket under the shade of a sprawling oak. Jake had brought a book with him, intending to read, but it now lay forgotten across his chest as he watched Heeseung and their little girl.

Heeseung knelt a few feet away, their daughter perched in his arms. He held her carefully, letting her feel the earth beneath her tiny feet. With a playful grin, he crouched a step away, holding out his hands encouragingly. She looked at him, eyes bright, then plopped back safely into his lap with a squeal of delight.

“Uh-oh,” Heeseung murmured, spinning her gently as she giggled and reached for his face. Jake’s chest warmed at the sight, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched the tender, playful interaction. Heeseung glanced up briefly and caught Jake’s gaze, the corner of his lips tilting into a teasing grin.

Jake watched as Heeseung tenderly cradled their daughter, cooing softly and making silly faces to make her giggle. The sight filled Jake with a warmth he hadn't expected, and a familiar pull stirred in him. His chest tightened as he observed Heeseung’s bright smile, the way he held their little girl so effortlessly. He could feel the subtle thrum of his own instincts pressing at the edges of his mind, the way his body was meant to respond to Heeseung’s presence, the natural rhythm of his heat. Normally, he could anticipate it, a quiet undercurrent he could manage, but right now, watching Heeseung laugh, coaxing their daughter to take a step, his senses were on high alert, and the yearning it stirred was nearly overwhelming. He had to focus, to breathe, to remind himself that patience was part of the game, that this heat was as much about closeness, about connection, as it was about longing. Still, every glance from Heeseung made it harder to keep control.

"Like what you see, pretty?" Heeseung asked, his voice laced with amusement and something more.

Jake bit his lip, feeling his cheeks flush. "Maybe…You look... really hot right now."

Heeseung chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent shivers down Jake's spine. "Is that so? Well, I aim to please."

He stood up, still holding the baby, and sauntered over to Jake, an extra bounce in his steps. "You know, I have a few tricks up my sleeve for when she’s asleep."

Jake's eyes widened, and he felt his body respond to the promise in Heeseung's words. "Oh yeah? And what might those be?"

Heeseung leaned in close, his warm breath brushing Jake’s ear. “Well, for starters,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “I plan on making you scream my name so loud the neighbors will hear. I'm going to take you so hard and deep that you'll feel me for days. And then, when you think it's over, I'll start all over again, making you beg for more.”

Heeseung nipped gently at the shell of his ear, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Jake shivered at the touch, a mix of surprise and amusement, his lips parting in a soft laugh.

Jake whimpered, his body aching with need. "Heeseung, if you don't stop, I'm going to, "

"Going to what, pretty?" Heeseung interrupted, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Going to beg me to take you right here, right now? Because I can't wait to hear those little whimpers you release right before you're going to cum. You look so beautiful all flushed pink and breathless when you're full with my cock in you, and the way you clench and squeeze around me when I knot you... it's fucking perfect."

Jake nodded, his breath coming in short gasps as he leaned his face into Heeseung’s space, noses brushing each other. "Yes. Please, hyung. I need you," he whimpered softly, knocking his head lightly against Heeseung's as he gripped his collar, fluttering his eyes with a mix of desperation and desire.

Heeseung smiled, a promise of passion in his eyes. "Patience, pretty. We have all the time in the world."

The baby let out a soft cry, interrupting their moment. Heeseung sighed, a mix of amusement and resignation. "Looks like someone needs her dad. But don't worry, pretty. I'll be back for you later. And when I do, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

Jake shivered at the promise, already anticipating the night ahead. As Heeseung turned to attend to their daughter, Jake couldn't help but let his gaze wander over Heeseung’s form, appreciating the way his muscles moved under his skin. The anticipation of what was to come made his heart race, and he knew that the night would be one to remember.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The restaurant was a sanctuary of opulence, high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and soft golden light reflecting off polished silverware. The hum of discreet conversation floated through the air, mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet in the corner. Jake’s family was already seated at the long table, laughter and polite chatter filling the space, but Jake himself was half-absent, his mind replaying the gala in the rain. That fleeting moment with Heeseung had haunted him ever since, every look, every shiver of longing.

Heeseung arrived quietly with his family, his posture perfect, but as soon as they stepped inside, a taut expression crossed his face. He murmured an excuse, stepping away before anyone could notice, needing a moment to himself. He made his way toward the terrace, the cool evening air brushing against his cheeks as he pulled the small photo from his wallet, Jake at eleven, blowing out the candles on his birthday with Heeseung beside him, smiling so freely it almost hurt to look at it now. He traced the image with his thumb, a bitter-sweet ache settling in his chest. What could have been…

He breathed deeply, pressing the photo back into his wallet, composing himself. One more deep breath, straighten the shoulders, and he returned inside.

Meanwhile, inside the restaurant, Jake sat at the table with his back to the door, trying to follow his father’s discussion about business deals while his own mind wandered. He noticed the arrival of Heeseung’s family, a polite nod here, a smile there, but he thought nothing of it. It wasn’t unusual for families to meet; perhaps they were old family friends. Heeseung’s absence barely registered.

Then there was a knock. A pause. And the door opened.

Jake didn’t turn immediately, assuming it was another waiter or staff. Then a familiar voice sliced through the soft murmur: “Good evening.”

His head snapped up. What? Him? Here? How… why now?

The relief and panic collided in his chest as he turned slightly to see Heeseung stepping into the room, his expression carefully controlled, the faintest shadow of a smile beneath eyes that held something heavier. The world seemed to tilt.

Heeseung walked toward the table with smooth, deliberate steps, scanning the guests until his gaze landed on Jake. Something clicked in both of them simultaneously, a spark of recognition, a jolt of disbelief. Jake’s heart skipped, his mind racing, while Heeseung felt the old yearning flare, the memory of being pulled away from each other, of the years lost, crashing back in one devastating instant.

Inside, Jake’s thoughts tumbled. It’s him. Here. After all this time. How…? And why does it feel like a relief to see him, even after everything?

Heeseung, meanwhile, had to steady himself, hiding the storm of emotion that threatened to leak through his practiced smile. Keep it together. Smile. Just… smile. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much this still hurts.

As Heeseung circled the table, finally approaching the empty seat across from Jake, a tense stillness fell over the space around them, unnoticed by the other guests. Jake’s chest tightened, and the room seemed to narrow until it was only the two of them, caught between shock, relief, and a yearning neither dared voice.

When their eyes finally met, the air vibrated with everything unsaid, the years of distance and desire compressed into a single, fleeting heartbeat.

For a heartbeat, neither moved, neither spoke. Jake’s mind raced, the sound of the string quartet and polite chatter fading into a blur. It’s him… it’s really him… His stomach twisted, nerves sparking in a mix of disbelief and a quiet, unbidden relief. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t dared hope it might ever be him again, not like this, not here, in this moment.

Heeseung forced himself to settle into a chair opposite Jake, keeping his posture perfect, though his fingers drummed lightly on the table. Every detail of Jake, the way his hair fell softly over his forehead, the faint flush on his cheeks, the subtle tension in his shoulders, pulled at something he had tried so long to bury. After all this time… why does it still feel like he’s the only one?

The waiter arrived to place menus, but both men barely glanced at them. Conversations floated around the table, laughter, small clinks of glasses, but all Heeseung could hear was the thrum of his own pulse and the whisper of memory: the gala, the rain, the ache of being pulled away, the yearning that had never truly faded.

Then, with a quiet clearing of his throat, Jake’s father began the announcements for the evening. There were speeches, polite introductions of families, and finally, a moment that made both Jake and Heeseung freeze in unison.

“Tonight,” his father said, a proud tilt to his voice, “we celebrate the upcoming engagements of our children. Mr. Jake has graciously accepted a proposal from a family long admired…” His words hung in the air, formal, elegant, but their meaning landed like a weight in Jake’s chest.

Jake’s mind spun. A proposal…? Wait, I,

“And we are equally honored to announce that Mr. Heeseung’s family has agreed to the arrangement.”

The room’s polite applause faded into a hum, but for Jake and Heeseung, the world slowed. Their eyes met again, and this time the realization struck with the force of a tidal wave. It’s us. The arrangement… it’s us.

Jake’s lips parted slightly, shock and disbelief warring with a rush of emotion he hadn’t expected. Heeseung’s chest tightened, but he maintained the faintest of smiles, eyes softening in a way that betrayed years of hidden longing. All this time, all this distance… it was always going to lead here.

Inside, Jake felt a flurry of thoughts, how… why… we’re… actually… engaged… to each other?, but above all, a strange, luminous relief: Heeseung was here, he was real, and now they couldn’t escape each other even if they wanted.

Heeseung caught the storm of recognition in Jake’s eyes and allowed himself the briefest exhale. So it’s finally me again. Finally… you.

The rest of the evening became a blur of formalities, handshakes, congratulations, polite laughter, but every glance across the table, every accidental brush of hands, was loaded with years of unsaid words, missed chances, and the simmering promise of what could finally begin.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The car ride to Heeseung’s parents’ estate was filled with the soft babbles of their daughter from the back seat. Jake stole glances in the rearview mirror, smiling as she jabbered excitedly at her parents. “Yes, you’re a very chatty girl tonight, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice warm and playful. Heeseung chuckled beside him, glancing back as well. “She gets that from you,” he teased, his hand reaching for Jake’s briefly.

They both took turns “listening and talking” to her, answering her tiny babbles as if she were carrying on a full conversation. By the time they pulled up to the estate, her little giggles filled the night air, a sound that made both of them grin. Heeseung carefully unbuckled her from her car seat, cradling her against his chest, while Jake grabbed the diaper bag and smoothed her hair gently.

“You’re such a little angel,” Heeseung cooed, bouncing her slightly as she squealed in delight. Jake leaned close, smiling at the sight of his husband babying their daughter so naturally. “We’re a good team, huh?” he whispered, earning a soft chuckle from Heeseung in response.

Before they could even fully step inside, their daughter was snatched up by Heeseung’s mother, who beamed down at her. “Oh, I couldn’t resist!” she exclaimed, her voice full of warmth. Jake handed over the diaper bag, laughing, as Heeseung shook his head playfully. “She’s all yours for now,” he murmured to Jake, eyes twinkling.

Dinner passed in a flurry of warmth and chatter. The baby was passed from grandparent to grandparent, each trying to coax giggles from her while sneaking bites of mush from their own plates. Eventually, she grew fussy, squirming and reaching for her mother. Jake scooped her up with a soft laugh, cradling her close. Heeseung slid next to him, helping feed her while Jake managed to take bites of his own meal, their hands brushing occasionally, smiles shared silently.

Once dinner was over, their daughter calmed, and they laid a soft blanket on the floor surrounded by her toys. Heeseung sat with her, making silly faces and softly humming tunes as she reached for his fingers and gurgled happily. The grandparents gathered around, trying to play too, their laughter blending with the baby’s delighted squeals.

Jake excused himself to help his mother clear the table, carrying plates into the kitchen. As he stacked dishes, a thought suddenly struck him, and he hesitated, looking toward the counter. “Mom…” he began cautiously, “can I ask… about the arranged marriage? Like… why we never knew who we were actually supposed to be matched with?”

His mother paused, a tray of desserts and coffee in her hands. She smiled faintly. “I did tell you, you know,” she said, a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation in her voice.

Jake blinked, confusion written across his face. “Wait… what?”

“Come on, I’ll explain,” she said, motioning for him to follow her back into the dining room. Heeseung noticed his omega’s furrowed brow and turned toward him quietly. “What’s wrong, pretty?”

Jake hesitated, then explained the situation, the confusion in his voice clear as he recounted how he and Heeseung had never known the other’s identity in the arrangement. Heeseung’s brow furrowed, his fingers brushing over Jake’s hand comfortingly.

Both sets of parents chimed in, nodding. “We did tell you, probably several times, but you two weren’t paying attention,” Heeseung’s mother explained gently. “It really should have been obvious. You were inseparable as children… you’ve always been meant for each other.”

Heeseung leaned back slightly, voice low and restrained, though sharp with lingering frustration. “This all could have been avoided, you know,” he said, glancing at Jake. “We went years without speaking because I didn’t think you’d approve… I didn’t want to force it.”

Jake’s eyes widened, realization and hurt crossing his features. “Wait… that’s why you pushed me away?”

“I… yes,” Heeseung admitted quietly. “I thought it would be impossible if I didn’t step back. I didn’t know how else to protect what we had, or what we could have had.”

Jake exhaled slowly, blinking against the sudden rush of emotions. “All this time… I thought you hated me.”

“I never hated you,” Heeseung replied, reaching for his hand. “I just… I didn’t know what to do. I thought it would make things worse.”

A soft smile tugged at Jake’s lips. “So, all the pain and distance… for nothing?”

“Not for nothing,” Heeseung murmured, squeezing his hand gently. “It brought us here. To this. To her. To us.”

Jake looked down at their daughter, now happily gnawing on a soft toy, and then back at Heeseung. “I guess… everything really does happen for a reason.”

Heeseung smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Jake’s face. “Exactly, pretty. And now… we make the rest of it count.”

As the evening wound down, the family gathered around, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Jake and Heeseung sat side by side, their shoulders touching, hands occasionally brushing as they shared stories and memories. The baby, now sleepy, was passed back to her parents, her tiny fingers curling around Heeseung’s as she drifted off.

“You know,” Jake whispered, leaning into Heeseung’s side, “I never thought I could be this happy.”

Heeseung smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Jake’s head. “Neither did I, pretty. But here we are, and it’s everything I could have hoped for.”

Jake looked up at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I love you, Heeseung. More than anything.”

“And I love you, Jake,” Heeseung replied, his voice filled with emotion. “Always and forever.”

As they sat there, surrounded by the warmth of their family and the promise of their future, Jake and Heeseung knew that every moment of pain and distance had been worth it. They had found their way back to each other, and together, they would face whatever came next, hand in hand, hearts intertwined.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I’m pregnant.”

For a second, the world seems to stall. The words hang in the air, delicate and impossible, and Heeseung can barely breathe. Everyone at the table erupts around them, cheers, laughter, congratulations, but it all fades into a blur. The clatter of silverware, the voices, the smiles, they’re all background noise.

All he can see is Jake.

Jake, whose fingers are still twisted with his, knuckles white, jaw tight, like he’s been bracing for the floor to give way beneath him. Like he’s been carrying a storm alone, and Heeseung has just walked into the eye of it. And for the first time in a long time, Heeseung feels the weight of his own failings, how he let their distance fester, how he stayed in his stubborn corners while Jake carried fear he didn’t deserve to face alone.

Heeseung swallows, heart thudding against his ribs. How long has he held this in? How much did he suffer quietly, thinking he had to protect me from this?

He can’t stop the memory from flaring, Jake, thrashing in his sleep weeks ago, caught halfway between the nightmare and reality, calling for him: 

The room still carried the faint traces of them, lingering like a private memory in the quiet. Jake’s scent, clean and bright, with a hint of lemon and something sweet beneath it, clung to the air, soft and familiar, like sun-warmed mornings and fresh laundry. Underneath it all, there was Heeseung’s own warmth, a grounding, woodsy musk with a tinge of something solid and comforting, a quiet strength that somehow matched Jake’s brightness perfectly. Together, their scents mingled, subtle but undeniable, a private language that no one else could read.

The sheets were warm where Jake lay on his side, turned half away, hair mussed, lashes heavy. They’d tried again, quiet, careful, hopeful in that restrained way people get when hope has already disappointed them once or twice. No results yet. No signs. Just the waiting.

Heeseung doesn’t leave right away.

Normally, he would. Normally, he’d sit on the edge of the bed just long enough to make sure Jake was steady, then quietly dress, tuck whatever feelings were left back behind his ribs, then go. That’s what he’s been doing since the wedding, present but distant, married in name and duty, not quite in heart. Old habits from old wounds. From years of silence and things never said.

But tonight, Jake doesn’t move. He just exhales, slow and deep, body relaxing in a way that tells Heeseung he’s drifting off without meaning to.

Heeseung stays seated at first, unsure. Then, without quite deciding to, he leans back against the headboard.

And he looks at him.

Jake has always been unfairly pretty, so much so that it still catches Heeseung off guard, even now, even married. His eyelashes are long and dark, resting gently against skin that’s gone soft with sleep. His lips are slightly parted, still flushed, still full in a way that makes something ache low in Heeseung’s chest. His cheeks, rounder than they used to be, softer, look warm, touchable, like they were made for cupping in both hands.

And his hair.

That stupid, perfect hair.

Brown, but not plain, warm and rich, catching the light just right. Curling at the ends no matter how many times Jake used to insist it’s straight. Always just a little fluffy, always refusing to stay neat. The same hair Heeseung had first noticed years ago when they were younger, when everything was simpler yet harder all at once. The same hair that has made his heart stutter for as long as he can remember.

Heeseung swallows.

Fourteen years, and it still does this to him.

Jake shifts slightly in his sleep, a small sound leaving him, and something in Heeseung finally gives. He lies down beside him, careful, slow, like he’s afraid Jake might vanish if he moves too fast. Their shoulders brush. Jake doesn’t wake, just instinctively turns a fraction closer, drawn by warmth.

Heeseung closes his eyes.

When he wakes, it’s to movement.

Not the soft kind, sharp, frantic. Jake’s breath comes uneven, his hands clutching at the sheets like he’s drowning. A broken sound slips from him, half-whisper, half-plea.

“Jaeyun,” Heeseung says immediately, voice low and urgent as he rolls onto his side. “Jaeyun, hey. Wake up.”

Jake doesn’t wake. His brow pinches, lips trembling, body jerking like he’s fighting something unseen.

Heeseung reaches for him without thinking, hands firm on his shoulders. “Jaeyun. It’s okay. You’re safe. Wake up.”

Jake jolts, and his eyes open.

But they don’t really see.

They’re glassy, unfocused, still trapped somewhere else. His hands grab at Heeseung’s shirt, fingers curling tight, desperate.

“Hyung,” Jake breathes.

The word hits Heeseung like a blow.

It’s been years, years, since Jake has called him that. Not since they were younger, when everything between them was unspoken and aching and fragile in a way they didn’t yet have names for.

“You… you didn’t leave,” Jake continues, voice small. Raw. Nothing like the careful composure he wears when he’s awake. “I missed you so much.”

Heeseung’s chest tightens.

“I waited and waited and you never came back,” Jake whispers, forehead pressing clumsily into Heeseung’s chest. “I thought… I thought you hated me.”

The words sink deep, cruel and unearned and devastating.

“Jaeyun,” Heeseung murmurs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, thumb brushing gently through that familiar hair. “I’m here. I didn’t go anywhere.”

Jake’s grip tightens. “Don’t go,” he begs softly. “Please. I’ll be good. I don’t want to be alone again.”

Again.

Heeseung’s throat burns. “You’re not alone,” he says, steady despite everything shaking inside him. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

Jake exhales, a shaky sound, his body finally softening as exhaustion wins. “You promise?” he whispers, already fading.

“I promise,” Heeseung says, and the truth of it settles deep, irreversible.

Jake is asleep again seconds later, face tucked against Heeseung’s chest, lashes still damp, expression peaceful now.

Heeseung doesn’t sleep after that.

He lies there, arm wrapped around his husband, staring into the dark as something long-held finally loosens its grip. Anger. Distance. The fear that loving Jake too openly would cost him everything.

In the morning, Jake is fine.

Bright smile. Easy laugh. He makes tea, talks about supplements and schedules like nothing happened, like he didn’t bare years of hurt in the dark.

“Did you sleep okay?” Heeseung asks carefully.

“Yeah,” Jake says, cheerful. “Why?”

Heeseung nods.

Jake doesn’t remember.

But Heeseung does.

And watching Jake hum softly at the counter, sunlight catching in his hair, Heeseung understands, this was the moment. The exact one where he stopped holding back.

Because Jake has been loving him even when he thought Heeseung had already left.

And Heeseung is done proving him right.

Heeseung’s throat tightens at the memory. I should have been there sooner. I should have noticed. I should have stayed when he needed me.

He notices now, the way Jake’s eyes flicker nervously, how his hand twitches over their joined fingers, how small and human he looks amidst the chaos of celebration. His chest aches, a mix of guilt and awe. How did I ever let him feel like he had to face this alone?

One minute, Heeseung is standing on the other side of the room; the next, he’s kneeling in front of Jake, hands resting on Jake’s knees, thumbs moving in slow, grounding circles like muscle memory he didn’t realize he had.
“You’re going to be fine,” Heeseung says, steady, certain. “The baby is going to be fine. You’re not going to lose it.”

Jake stares at him, caught off guard by the firmness of it, by the way Heeseung says it like it’s a fact, not reassurance. For a moment, he actually believes him. His shoulders sag, breath slipping out of him like he’s been holding it all week.

“Okay,” Jake whispers.

The word is small. Fragile.

Heeseung nods once, as if sealing something in place, then slowly pulls his hands back. The space between them stretches again, careful, familiar. Jake looks down at his lap, fingers twisting his wedding band, embarrassment creeping back in now that the moment has passed.

The silence lingers.

Too long.

Heeseung stands, turns away like he means to give Jake privacy, like he always does. But he doesn’t leave the room. He just… stops. Hands braced on the dresser. Breathing uneven.

The image crashes into him without warning, Jake half-awake, thrashing in bed weeks ago, clutching at him like he was disappearing. Hyung. You didn’t leave. I missed you. Why do you hate me?

His chest tightens.

“Jake,” Heeseung says again, quieter this time.

Jake looks up.

“I should’ve been the first person you told,” Heeseung admits. His voice isn’t sharp now. It’s stripped bare. “Not because you had to. But because you shouldn’t have been alone with that fear.”

Jake blinks. Confusion flickers across his face. “I didn’t think,  I mean… you’ve been busy. And I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

Until you were sure it was worth telling me, Heeseung hears instead.

The guilt lands hard, heavy, undeniable.

He crosses the room again, dropping down in front of Jake like before, but this time he doesn’t stop at his knees. He pulls Jake into him, firm, unyielding, like he’s anchoring them both to the same moment. Jake stiffens in surprise, hands hovering awkwardly at Heeseung’s sides, unsure where they belong.

Then he exhales.

His forehead presses into Heeseung’s shoulder. His fingers clutch the back of Heeseung’s shirt, tentative at first, then tighter, like he’s afraid if he lets go the distance will rush back in.

“I didn’t want to disappoint anyone,” Jake admits quietly. “If something went wrong.”

Heeseung closes his eyes.

This is it, the thing he’s been avoiding since the marriage, since the resentment, since the years they lost to silence and obligation. The truth he’s been circling but never touching.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words heavy but necessary. “For every time I made you feel like this was just… a transaction. Like you had to be careful with me.”

Jake’s breath stutters.

“I know this is how it’s supposed to be,” he says softly, like he’s reassuring Heeseung now.

That’s what breaks him.

He tightens his arms, just a little. Enough to be unmistakable.

“No,” Heeseung says, voice low and certain. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to feel.”

Jake goes still.

“I don’t want you carrying things alone anymore,” Heeseung continues, quieter now. “Not fear. Not hope. Not this.”

Jake doesn’t respond with words. He just leans in fully this time, weight settling against Heeseung like trust, new, hesitant, real.

And in that moment, Heeseung knows.

This, this, is where he stops leaving.
This is where the distance ends.
This is where he chooses to stay, even when it’s hard, even when it scares him.

He holds Jake there, grounding them both, the future suddenly terrifying and precious all at once.

And for the first time since the marriage, Heeseung lets himself think it clearly, honestly, without flinching:

I will not be the reason he feels alone again.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The house was quiet, the only sounds the soft snores of their sleeping daughter emerging from the baby monitor and the gentle rustle of the sheets as Jake and Heeseung moved together in the darkness. Strong hands gripped Jake's hips, pulling him back against his firm body as he thrust deeply from behind.

Jake bit into the pillow, muffling his moans as pleasure coursed through him. Heeseung's pace was relentless, his body moving with a primal rhythm that left Jake breathless and begging for more. "Hyung, please," Jake whimpered, his body trembling with need.

Heeseung leaned down, plastering his front over Jake’s back, his teeth grazing Jake's ear. "Please what, pretty? Tell me what you want."

Jake's breath hitched as Heeseung's hand found his clit, stroking and teasing in perfect sync with his thrusts. "I want... I want you to fill me. Make me yours again."

Heeseung growled, a sound of pure possession. "You're already mine, pretty. But I'll give you what you want."

His thrusts became harder, faster, and Jake could feel the coiled tension in his body, the promise of release just out of reach. Heeseung's fingers danced over Jake's clit, sending sparks of pleasure through his body.

"Can you feel how good you're sucking me in, pretty?" Heeseung praised, his voice a low rumble. "You feel so good. So tight and hot around me. You're my perfect little omega, aren't you? Made for my cock."

Jake nodded feverishly, his body a mess of sweat, tears, and cum as the two of them have been going at it for a while now. "Hyung, I'm close. So close. I need you to make me cum."

Heeseung's hand tightened on Jake's hip, his other hand reaching up to grip Jake's throat, holding him in place as he pounded into him. "That's it, pretty. Cum for me. Show me how much you love my cock. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk me dry."

Jake's body convulsed as he came, his inner muscles clenching around Heeseung's length. Heeseung let out a low groan, his own release following closely behind. He bit down on Jake's mating mark, his teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh as he filled Jake with his seed.

"Fuck, pretty," Heeseung panted, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. "You feel so good when you cum for me. You're my everything."

Jake collapsed forward, his body spent and sated. Heeseung followed, his weight pressing Jake into the mattress as he nuzzled into Jake's neck, his breath hot and ragged.

"God, I fucking love you so much pretty," Heeseung murmured as he placed open mouth kisses on Jake’s face and neck, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm going to fill you with my pups again and again. Get you all nice and pregnant, big and swollen. Would you like that, hmm? I bet you would. You're going to be so full of my babies, so ripe and ready for me."

Jake whimpered, his body already responding again and pushing back against him at the promise in his words. "Yes, yes, please. Fill me with your cum. Fill me with your pups. I'll give you however many you want. Please, hyung. Please. I need you so bad."

Heeseung chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. "You're mine, pretty. Always mine. You're my perfect little omega. We match each other so perfectly, don't we? We were made for each other."

Heeseung gently rolled Jake onto his back, his eyes gleaming with hunger and love. "I want to see you, pretty. I want to watch you as I fill you again."

Jake's eyes fluttered open, meeting Heeseung's intense gaze. His face was flushed, his lips swollen from their earlier kisses, and his body was marked with love bites and hickeys, a testament to their passionate encounter. "Yes, hyung. Whatever you want. I'm yours to."

As their connection deepened, Heeseung shifted, his movements deliberate and slow. He settled between Jake's legs, his hand on Jake's thigh keeping him spread open, his touch both possessive and tender.

 His fingers traced along Jake's cunt with a reverent, careful touch, just feeling, reacquainting himself with familiar territory. Jake let out a flustered sound, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure, and he tried to close his legs, covering his face with his hands. "H-Heeseung," he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was beautiful, music to Heeseung's ears Jake let out a flustered sound, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure, and he tried to close his legs, covering his face with his hands. "H-Heeseung," he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"It's okay, pretty," Heeseung murmured, his thumb brushing over Jake's clit in a gesture that was more affectionate than arousing. "You don't need to hide from me. You're beautiful, just as you are." He was just looking, really, appreciating the pink and the wet and the way Jake was already starting to respond despite having come twice already. Jake peeked out from behind his hands, his eyes meeting Heeseung's, and he felt a shiver of pleasure at the sincerity in his gaze.

"Just look how pretty you are," Heeseung murmured, his fingers spreading Jake open just a little so he could see better. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen, honest to god."

His tip teased Jake, moving swiftly from entrance to clit, and Jake gasped, his hips twitching. "There you go," Heeseung said, a happy laugh escaping him as if Jake's body responding to him was a personal triumph. "Still so responsive even after I made you come, such a good little omega for me."

He traced Jake's entrance with his tip, circling it slowly, and the way Jake was already getting wet again made something warm and possessive curl in Heeseung's chest. God, he could do this for hours on end and not get tired of it.

"You really are the best," Heeseung murmured, more to himself than to Jake, dipping just the tip inside. "Always so ready for me, it's perfect."

Jake, feeling a bit playful, pinched Heeseung's side playfully and thumped him with his foot. "Heeseung, you're teasing me," he whined, his voice a blend of frustration and desire. "I need more." He glared at Heeseung, his expression a mix of determination and impatience, making sure Heeseung understood his seriousness. "And if you don't stick your cock in me again within the next minute, I'll take matters into my own hands."

Heeseung chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. "Patience, pretty. I want to savor every inch of you. You're mine, and I want to take my time."

Jake huffed, but his body betrayed him, arching up to meet Heeseung's touch. "You're so cruel," he muttered, but his words held no anger, only deep love and trust.

Heeseung's fingers continued their slow, torturous exploration, drawing out Jake's pleasure until he was a trembling, needy mess beneath him. And all the while, Heeseung's eyes never left Jake's face, drinking in every expression, every sound, every shiver of pleasure.

Heeseung positioned himself between Jake's thighs, his cock already hard and ready. He slowly pushed into Jake, his eyes never leaving Jake's face. Jake gasped, his body stretching to accommodate Heeseung's size. Heeseung began to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he filled Jake completely.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful like this," Heeseung whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "So open and taking me so well. You're my perfect little slut, aren't you? Made for my cock. You love it when I fuck you hard, don't you?"

Jake reached up, his hands gripping Heeseung's shoulders as he met each thrust. "Hyung, you feel so good. So deep. I'm your slut. Only yours. You drive me wild."

Heeseung leaned down, capturing Jake's lips in a fierce, sloppy kiss. Their tongues danced together, their breaths mingling as they moved in perfect sync. When they finally pulled apart, a string of saliva connected their lips, a tangible sign of their intense connection. Jake's eyes were glazed over, his mind clouded with pleasure and love.

Heeseung suddenly pulled Jake up, positioning him so that Jake was straddling his lap, facing him. As Jake settled into Heeseung's lap, their eyes locked, and for a moment, the intensity of their connection transcended the physical. Jake wrapped his arms around Heeseung's neck, pulling him close, their foreheads pressing together. Heeseung's arms encircled Jake's back, holding him tightly.

"Jake," Heeseung whispered, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "You are my everything. My heart beats for you, and only you. In your eyes, I find my home. I love you more than words can express."

Jake's eyes welled up with tears, his voice barely a whisper. "Heeseung, I love you too. You are my world, my reason for being. I'm yours, forever and always. You're my alpha, my everything. I love how we match each other's energy. It's like we're two pieces of a puzzle, fitting perfectly together."

They held each other, their breaths synchronizing, their hearts beating as one. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own private sanctuary of love and desire.

Heeseung gently rocked his hips, stirring Jake back to the height of their passion. "Ride me, pretty. Take what you need. Show me how much you love my cock. You're my perfect little cum dump, aren't you? Made to take my load."

Jake moaned, his body already moving in a sensual rhythm as he ground down on Heeseung's cock. Heeseung's hands gripped Jake's hips, guiding him, helping him move in a way that sent waves of pleasure through both of them.

"Fuck, you feel so good, pretty," Heeseung groaned, his eyes locked on Jake's face. " You're my perfect little omega."

Jake leaned forward, his forehead resting against Heeseung's as he continued to ride him. "Hyung, I'm close. So close. I need to cum for you. Please, let me cum for you. I need to feel you fill me up."

Heeseung's hands moved to Jake's ass, spreading him wide as Jake bounced up and down on his cock. "Cum for me, pretty. Show me how much you love my cock. Let me feel that tight little pussy choke my cock. I'm going to fill you up so good."

Jake's body tensed, and then he was coming undone, his inner muscles clenching around Heeseung's length as he cried out in ecstasy. Heeseung followed, his release exploding through him as he filled Jake with his hot seed. With a final, powerful thrust, Heeseung's knot swelled, locking them together as he claimed Jake completely.

"Fuck, pretty," Heeseung groaned, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. "You're mine. Always mine. Forever bound to me…You're my everything.."

Jake collapsed forward, his body spent and sated, his inner walls pulsing around Heeseung's knot. His face was a picture of pure bliss, his eyes clouded with pleasure, his body marked with love bites and hickeys. Heeseung held him close, their chests heaving as they both came down from their high. "I love you, hyung. Forever. I'm yours to command, yours to fill,yours to love. I'm so beautifully fucked out of my mind right now, and I love every second of it."

Heeseung nuzzled into Jake's neck, his breath hot against Jake's skin. "Forever, pretty. I'll always take care of you and our family. You're my world, my life, my love. I live to serve you, to protect you, to love you. You're so beautifully fucked and loved, aren't you? Look at you, all marked up and sated. You're a vision."

They lay there, their bodies sated and entwined, as the night wore on. The soft sounds of their daughter's snores filled the room, a gentle reminder of the love and life they had created together. Jake and Heeseung knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond unbreakable and their love eternal.

As they drifted off to sleep, still connected by Heeseung's knot, Jake whispered, "I love you, hyung. Thank you for always loving me so completely."

Heeseung smiled, his arms tightening around Jake. "I love you too, pretty. Always and forever. You're my perfect match in every way."

Heeseung's voice was low and husky as he murmured, "You're such a good mommy to our beautiful baby. I can't wait for the rest we'll have."

Jake's eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing on his lips as he met Heeseung's gaze. "And you're such a good daddy, always taking care of us. I can't wait to have more babies with you."

Heeseung's hands roamed Jake's body, tracing the curves and contours with a possessive tenderness. "You're going to be so beautiful, I'll take such good care of you, pretty. You'll never need anything."

Jake shivered at the promise in Heeseung's words, “I know you will, hyung. You always do. I trust you completely. You're my everything."

As Jake lay on top of Heeseung, the gentle caress of Heeseung's fingertips tracing patterns on his back lulled him into a state of deep relaxation. The soft, soothing hum that filled the room created a cocoon of warmth and security, allowing Jake's eyes to flutter closed as his breathing slowed, drifting off to sleep, completely at peace in Heeseung's embrace.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A week after the engagement dinner, Jake is jolted awake by his mother, who knocks softly before entering his bedroom. She is already dressed, her demeanor calm and composed, as if this is a routine they have always shared. "We have an appointment," she says gently, her voice carrying a note of familiarity that Jake can't quite place.

He pushes himself upright, his hair disheveled and confusion clouding his face. "An appointment for…?" he asks, his voice thick with sleep and uncertainty. His mother hesitates, just long enough for a knot of anxiety to form in Jake's stomach. "The omega clinic," she finally says. "It's routine. Especially now."

The word "now" settles heavily in Jake's chest, a weight he can't quite shake off. The car ride to the clinic is quiet, the city passing by in a blur outside the window. Jake keeps his hands folded in his lap, his fingers worrying at each other nervously. He's never been to an omega OB-GYN before, never needed to. His health has always been steady, his cycles regular, and his suppressants reliable. But today, everything feels different, final in a way he can't quite explain.

The clinic is a stark contrast to the bustling city outside. It's clean and bright, with a faint scent of antiseptic and lavender hanging in the air. Too calm, too professional. Jake signs his name with slightly shaky handwriting, his mother standing beside him as a grounding presence. She doesn't rush him, her patience a comfort in the otherwise sterile environment.

When they're called back, Jake changes into the thin paper gown and perches stiffly on the edge of the exam table, his feet not quite touching the floor. The room hums softly, machines blinking with quiet patience. His mother notices his tense shoulders and clenched jaw, reaching out to rest her hand over his. "You're alright," she murmurs. "This isn't a test you can fail."

Jake swallows hard, trying to find his voice. "But what if something's... wrong?" he asks quietly, hating how small and vulnerable his voice sounds. "What if I'm not, " His mother squeezes his hand, her grip firm and grounding. "Jake. You are not a thing that breaks just because someone checks on it."

The doctor is a middle-aged woman with kind eyes behind her glasses. Her voice is gentle and practiced, explaining everything before doing anything, asking permission twice, then once more just to be sure. Jake nods through it all, his throat tight with a mix of anticipation and dread.

She asks routine questions about his health, his heats, his suppressants, and then, carefully, whether he's sexually active. Jake's cheeks flush immediately. "No," he says, shaking his head. "I've never, " "That's perfectly fine," the doctor says without missing a beat, as if it's the most ordinary thing in the world. And somehow, that helps.

When the exam begins, it's quick and respectful, clinical, careful, nothing beyond what's necessary. The doctor talks him through each step, keeping him informed and comfortable. "Just let me know if you need a moment," she says softly.

Jake tries to be brave, but there's something about the vulnerability of the moment, the way his body is treated as something delicate and important all at once, that makes his eyes sting. He blinks hard, staring at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over.

A tear slips free despite himself. "I'm sorry," he whispers, embarrassed. "There's nothing to apologize for," the doctor says immediately, her voice warm and reassuring. "This is a lot for a first visit."

His mother's hand appears at his side, squeezing his fingers. "You're doing so well," she murmurs. Jake breathes unevenly, nodding, holding on until it's over.

When the doctor steps back and removes her gloves, she smiles gently. "All done." Jake exhales, his shoulders sagging as if he's been holding himself together by sheer will.

"Everything looks very healthy," the doctor continues, jotting notes. "Your cycles are normal. Your body is responding exactly as it should." Relief washes through him so strongly that his eyes sting all over again.

The doctor sets her clipboard down and turns her chair slightly so she's facing Jake fully. "Since this is your first visit," she says gently, "I want to go over a few things so nothing catches you off guard later."

Jake straightens a little, his fingers curling into the edge of the paper gown. He nods, ready to listen.

"When you're with your alpha for the first time," she continues, her voice calm and matter-of-fact, "you may experience heightened sensitivity, emotionally as well as physically. That's normal. Especially if there's an existing bond, or strong feelings involved." Her eyes flick briefly to his chart, then back to his face. "It can feel overwhelming, but it shouldn't hurt. Communication matters more than anything."

Jake swallows, nodding again, his cheeks warm with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation.

"As for pregnancy," she says, not unkindly, "it is possible from the first time, particularly if it coincides with or follows a heat cycle. Even outside of heat, omega bodies can be receptive under certain conditions. That doesn't mean it will happen immediately, but it's important to be prepared for the possibility."

She pauses, giving him space to absorb the information. "None of this is meant to frighten you," she adds. "Only to remind you that you have choices. You can pace things. You can ask questions. You can wait."

Jake lets out a quiet breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"If and when you decide you're ready," the doctor finishes, smiling gently, "your body is more than capable. But readiness isn't just physical. It's emotional too, and you're allowed to take your time with that."

His mother squeezes his hand beside him, just once, a silent show of support. Jake nods when she says it. You have choices. He even believes she means it. But something tight and hollow settles in his chest all the same. Because he knows the truth of it, even if no one says it out loud. Choice, for someone like him, has always been a careful illusion. Softened with kindness. Wrapped in reassurance. He is an omega born into a family that plans three steps ahead, into a world where legacy matters and bloodlines are spoken of in hushed, reverent tones. He was raised knowing what was expected of him long before anyone ever asked what he wanted.

He is meant to marry well. He is meant to be steady. He is meant to carry an heir. That is the shape of his future, already outlined, waiting for him to grow into it. So when the doctor says he can wait, that he can say no, Jake smiles politely and tucks the words away somewhere safe, but distant. Like something fragile he's allowed to admire, but never touch. Obligation hums louder than reassurance ever could, steady and unyielding in his bones.

He presses his lips together, his breath slow and careful. I don’t get to want things, he thinks quietly. I get to do what’s required of me. And somehow, knowing that makes his chest ache more than the exam ever did.

Later, back in the car, his mother starts the engine but doesn’t pull away right away. She looks at him instead, studying his profile. "I know this is a lot," she says softly. "Being told your future before you feel ready for it." Jake swallows. "Did you ever feel like this?" he asks. "Like you were being prepared for something you didn’t ask for yet?"

She’s quiet for a moment. "Yes," she admits. "You know your father and I's marriage was arranged too." He turns to look at her. "I wish someone had told me then," she continues, "that being prepared doesn’t mean you lose your choices." "You still get to want things," she says gently. "You still get to say no. Marriage doesn’t erase that. And neither does your designation."

Jake nods slowly, tucking that away somewhere fragile and important inside himself. As they pull away from the clinic, he stares out the window, thinking not about appointments or expectations, but about a boy he once loved in silence. And how no one had ever checked whether his heart was ready.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jake pulls into the underground parking garage beneath the glass-and-steel tower where Heeseung works, easing the car into his usual spot. Weekly lunches, same day, same time, had quietly turned into something sacred. A pause in the middle of the week that belonged just to them.

He turns off the engine and exhales, already half-smiling as he looks back.

“Okay,” he murmurs, more to himself than anything. “Stroller… carrier… diaper bag… feeding bag…”

He reaches into the backseat, unbuckling their daughter carefully. “Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs gently, unbuckling her. “Are you excited to see your daddy?”

She responds with a happy gurgle, kicking her legs like that’s answer enough.

Jake laughs quietly. “Yeah? I thought so. Okay, let’s go see him.”

She answers with a happy babble, legs kicking.

Jake laughs under his breath as he settles her into the carrier strapped snugly to his chest, adjusting the fabric until she’s comfortable. “Oh? You agree?” he asks seriously. “See, that’s why you’re my favorite. No arguing. Very cooperative.”

She gurgles again, drool threatening his shirt.

“Mmhmm,” Jake hums, nodding as if she’s just offered excellent advice. “Exactly.”

With practiced ease, he unfolds the stroller and starts toward the elevator. The moment they enter the lobby, it’s like a switch flips.

“There they are!”
“Good morning, Jake.”
“Oh my god, hi, baby!”

The receptionist beams from behind the desk. “You’re early today,” she says warmly. “Someone excited to see her daddy?”

Jake smiles, rocking slightly on his heels. “Always.”

A security guard near the doors chuckles. “She’s growing fast. Won’t be long before she’s running this place.”

Their daughter stares around, wide-eyed, then breaks into a gummy grin that earns a chorus of awws.

Jake lowers his voice conspiratorially. “See? You don’t even have to try.”

She squeaks in response.

Upstairs, the attention follows them. People slow at their desks, some waving, others crouching just to get a better look.

“She’s gotten so big,” someone says softly.
“Those eyes,” another murmurs. “Those are Mr. Lee’s for sure.”
Jake shakes his head.
“No way,” a third counters. “Those are Jake’s puppy eyes.”
Someone else laughs. “That smile though? That’s her grandpa.”

Jake grins, adjusting the carrier as she babbles happily, clearly soaking in the attention.

Down the hall, Heeseung checks his watch for the tenth time.

Jake had texted we’re here fifteen minutes ago. He exhales, gives up on pretending to focus, and steps out of his office.

He rounds the corner, and stops.

Jake is surrounded, laughing softly, their daughter snug against his chest while half the floor fawns over her. The sight hits Heeseung warm and sudden, right in the chest.

Before he can say anything, their daughter’s head turns.

She stills.

Then her face lights up.

A delighted squeal bursts from her as she kicks excitedly, tiny hands curling against Jake’s shirt.

Jake laughs. “Oh, okay, yeah. He’s here.”

He leans against the wall, arms folding loosely, watching with quiet amusement until,

“Didn’t realize I was being ditched by the two of you for better company,” he says lightly.

Jake startles, then turns, face breaking into a grin.
“Hyung! I was coming to you, I swear. Everyone wanted to see her. What can I say?” He gestures down at the baby. “She’s a celebrity around here.”

Heeseung chuckles, stepping forward and slipping an arm around Jake’s waist, pulling him into a side hug. His hand rests at Jake’s hip, warm, familiar.
“Well,” he says softly, glancing down at their daughter, “she is beautiful. Just like you.”

Jake flushes instantly.

Heeseung presses a quick kiss to Jake’s temple before straightening. “Alright, everyone,” he adds fondly, “I’m stealing my family back.”

A chorus of good-natured groans follows as Heeseung takes the stroller and guides Jake toward his office.

Inside, the space is quiet and private. Heeseung spreads a blanket on the carpet, helping Jake settle their daughter down for tummy time. They sink to the floor beside her, backs against the couch, watching her kick and babble at the unfamiliar ceiling.

Jake unwraps his sandwich, taking a bite while Heeseung lies down closer to her, making faces, murmuring softly, coaxing little laughs out of her. Jake’s chest aches in the best way as he watches them, Heeseung lying close, murmuring nonsense just to hear her laugh, their daughter kicking like the world is brand new and made just for her. Without really thinking about it, Jake reaches out, fingers slipping into Heeseung’s hair, slow and familiar.

“Do you ever think about it?” Jake asks quietly.

Heeseung hums, eyes still on their daughter. “Think about what?”

“Where we’d be,” Jake says. His fingers still, resting at the nape of Heeseung’s neck. “If things had turned out… different. Like, if we weren’t together.”

Heeseung snorts softly, finally glancing up at him. “I can’t,” he says easily. “Because then this little one wouldn’t be here.” He turns back to their daughter, grinning as he gently tickles her sides. “And I refuse to imagine a world without you, Ms. Heart.”

She squeals, delighted.

Jake exhales a breath that’s half a laugh, half something heavier. “Heeseung,” he says, gently but firmly. “Seriously. For like… two seconds. Please, babe.”

The name does it. The tone. Heeseung stills, not fully, still brushing their daughter’s tiny hand with his thumb, but his expression shifts, something thoughtful settling in. He considers it, eyes tracing the ceiling instead of Jake.

“Realistically?” he says slowly. “We probably would’ve been married off to other people. Or maybe our parents never would’ve been friends. Maybe we never would’ve met that way at all.” He glances at Jake again, softer now. “Maybe we never would’ve met. Maybe we would’ve passed by each other on the street, in school, anywhere, and never even noticed. Or maybe we noticed, but it was too late. Maybe we’d have run into each other later. Or earlier. Or just missed each other by a year. ”

Jake swallows.

“There would’ve been obstacles,” Heeseung continues, voice quiet but steady. “Different ones, maybe. Same kind of pain. Same kind of pressure. The loneliness we’d have felt… the fear of wanting something that wasn’t ours.” His gaze drops to their daughter, then back at Jake, eyes glossy. “And I… I don’t know if I would’ve survived it. Not fully. Not the emptiness without you, without this… without her.”

He reaches out, brushing his fingers over their daughter’s cheek, watching her calm beneath his touch. “There were nights I’d lie awake and… imagine you with someone else, or… imagine never seeing you again. And it nearly, nearly broke me.”

Jake’s eyes sting. “I… I almost, ” His words falter as tears start to prick. “I almost gave up hope.”

Heeseung shakes his head, brushing a stray tear from Jake’s cheek. “No. No, we didn’t give up. Somehow… someway, we found each other. I know it’s fate, or destiny, or… some crazy string that ties us together. Because if I didn’t find you, I don’t think I would’ve survived it. Not really.”

Jake’s throat tightens. He squeezes his fingers just slightly in Heeseung’s hair.

“Like one of those red string things,” Heeseung adds, almost sheepish. “Tangled. Pulled tight. Stretched across a hundred wrong paths until it finally leads where it’s supposed to.”

Their eyes meet then.

“I love you,” Jake says quietly, the words thick but certain.

Heeseung turns his head, presses a kiss into Jake’s palm, gaze unwavering. “I love you too, Jaeyun.”

A small cry interrupts them, thin and insistent. Jake reacts instantly, scooping her up with practiced ease and settling her against his chest, one hand supporting her head as she squirms closer, searching.

“She’s hungry,” he murmurs, already shifting to get comfortable. “Can you grab the cover?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Heeseung says softly, moving immediately. He retrieves it from the bag and drapes it carefully over Jake and their daughter, tucking the edge just right so she’s covered but still close, still warm.

Her cries fade almost at once, replaced by soft, rhythmic sounds, tiny sighs, the faintest hum of contentment beneath the cover. Jake relaxes without even realizing it, shoulders dropping, breath evening out like his body knows this moment by heart. He keeps rocking gently, slow and instinctive, one hand warm and steady at her back.

“She’s probably going to fall asleep halfway through,” Jake says quietly, fond amusement threading his voice. “She always does when she’s comfortable like this.” He glances up at Heeseung, eyes soft. “She knew when you left this morning. The baby monitor went off the second the door closed.”

Heeseung lets out a soft laugh, more tender than amused, and shifts closer, resting his shoulder against Jake’s, careful not to jostle her. “Can you blame her?” he murmurs. “She’s got the best dad in the world.”

Jake huffs a quiet, embarrassed laugh, but his eyes give him away. He adjusts his hold slightly when she stirs, thumb brushing slow, soothing circles between her shoulder blades until she settles again, lashes fluttering as sleep creeps closer.

They stay like that for a while, voices low, nearly whispers. Heeseung fills him in on meetings that ran too long, on things that irritated him and things that went unexpectedly right. Jake listens, humming thoughtfully in response, rocking all the while. Then he counters with the office gossip he picked up on the way in, who’s secretly dating, who spilled coffee all over a laptop, who keeps sneaking snacks into meetings and pretending it wasn’t them.

Heeseung laughs quietly at Jake’s impressions, shoulders shaking just a little. He leans in, pressing his forehead briefly to Jake’s temple, like he can’t quite help himself.

“She stopped moving so much,” Heeseung murmurs after a moment, leaning closer. “Is she asleep already?”

Jake tilts his head, glancing down. “Yeah… I noticed.”

He carefully lifts the edge of the cover just enough for them to peek.

Their daughter’s eyes are still open, but barely. Lashes flutter, blinking slow and heavy, her little hands slack against Jake’s chest. She pauses, then resumes again, slower now, comfort more than hunger.

“She’s fighting it,” Jake whispers, smiling.

By the time she’s finished, she’s fully asleep, mouth slack, body heavy and loose against him. Jake doesn’t move right away, just keeps rocking for another long minute, patting her gently like he’s afraid the moment might break.

Eventually, carefully, he settles her back into the stroller. She barely stirs, only sighs softly, utterly content.

“I should get going,” Jake says gently, fingers lingering on the handle.

Heeseung stands immediately, arms wrapping around him, holding him a little longer than necessary. He kisses Jake slow and lingering, like he’s memorizing the feel of him.

“You’ll be home soon,” Jake murmurs, forehead resting against his.

“I know,” Heeseung replies softly. “I just don’t like being separated from you two for so long.”

Jake smiles, squeezes him once more, then heads for the door.

“I love you,” Heeseung says quietly.

Jake pauses, looks back, warmth filling his chest. “Love you.”

Heeseung stays there a moment after they’re gone, the room too quiet, his heart full and aching all at once, his family lingering in the air like a promise he carries with him for the rest of the day.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Heeseung pauses at the bedroom door, already dressed for work, the quiet hum of the apartment settling around him. Jake is half-buried in the pillows, hair a little wild, wet from staying up too late brushing it, defying Heeseung’s protests the night before. Layla has already claimed her spot, curled along the small curve of Jake’s back, tail twitching softly in contentment.

Heeseung leans over the bed, fingers brushing gently against Jake’s shoulder, careful not to startle him. “I’m leaving,” he murmurs, almost a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace of the morning.

Jake stirs, eyes half-lidded, lips forming a sleepy hum of agreement. He’s still clutching Heeseung’s pillow like it’s a lifeline, little arms curling around it as if the world could be kept at bay by its soft weight.

Heeseung’s lips twitch into a smile. “Wow,” he teases softly, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of Jake’s jaw. “You don’t even care that I’m leaving… why don’t you just tell me you want me gone without actually telling me you want me to leave. Hm?”

Jake mumbles again, eyes drooping, unbothered by Heeseung’s words. Heeseung laughs quietly, leaning closer, peppering Jake’s face with little kisses, forehead, cheek, the tip of his nose, before his hand drifts lower, resting against the soft swell of Jake’s belly.

“Hi, little one,” Heeseung murmurs, voice low and gentle, pressing a tender kiss just above the curve of Jake’s stomach. “Daddy’s off to work, but he’s thinking about you… and your mom.” His hand rubs slow circles, and he feels Jake shift slightly, warm and heavy against him even in slumber.

Heeseung can’t help the surge of something deep in his chest, the mix of love, longing, and pride that has grown with every month, every tiny movement, every quiet moment like this. He leans back slightly, brushing his lips along Jake’s temple one last time before straightening reluctantly. “Okay, I really do have to go now,” he whispers, voice breaking just slightly with the ache of leaving.

Jake grunts softly, a half-hearted hum still lingering as if in reply, completely unconcerned, completely at ease. Heeseung bites back a smile, heart tightening, before giving the belly one last gentle rub, whispering, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Jake grunts softly, a half-hearted hum still lingering as if in reply, completely unconcerned, completely at ease. Heeseung bites back a smile, heart tightening, before giving the belly one last gentle rub, whispering, “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

He starts to pull away, straightening, when suddenly Jake’s small hand wraps around his arm, tugging him back. “Wait, kiss,” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough.

Heeseung freezes for a moment, playfulness curling in his chest. “Oh? Now you’re awake?” he teases, brushing a strand of hair from Jake’s face.

“I was paying attention,” Jake mumbles, eyes still half-lidded but clear, warm.

And just like that, their lips meet, soft and tentative at first, then lingering, mumbling I love yous between gentle breaths. Heeseung’s hands cup Jake’s face, thumb brushing over his cheek, while Jake threads his fingers into Heeseung’s shirt, holding on just as tightly.

Eventually, Heeseung pulls back slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Jake’s forehead. His hand drifts down to pat Layla, curled comfortably against Jake’s back, and she lifts her head briefly, tail wagging.

Heeseung straightens fully, giving one last glance back at Jake, messy hair, sleepy eyes, the faintest smile tugging at his lips, and the quiet warmth of their shared space. His chest tightens, heart full, before he finally lets himself step out of the room, closing the door with just a hint of softness.

Heeseung knows something is wrong the moment he steps through the front doors.

It hits him sharp and immediate, a pressure in his chest before his brain can catch up, Jake’s pheromones hanging thick in the air, sour with stress, threaded with something unsteady and sharp that makes Heeseung’s heart stutter. Fear, discomfort. Exhaustion. Way too much of it.

“Jake?” he calls instinctively, already moving.

The staff looks up at once, exchanging glances. One of them steps forward, hesitant. “Sir, your husband’s been resting. He asked us not to worry you.”

That does absolutely nothing to calm him.

“Where is he,” Heeseung says, not raising his voice, but there’s steel under it now. Alpha instinct clawing its way up his spine.

Another staff member answers quickly, “Upstairs. In your bathroom. He’s, he’s been sick all day. Couldn’t keep much down.”

The words barely finish landing before Heeseung is moving.

Puking. All day.

His pace quickens with every step up the stairs, the scent growing stronger the closer he gets, Jake’s usual bright cleanliness dulled by nausea and misery, wrapped tight around Heeseung’s own rising panic. It’s overwhelming. Intimate in the worst way. Like Jake’s body has been calling for him all day and Heeseung didn’t hear it.

The bathroom door is closed. Locked.

He hears it before he knocks, the awful, unmistakable sound of Jake retching, breath hitching afterward like he’s trying not to cry.

“Jaeyun,” Heeseung says, knocking once, then again. “Baby?”

There’s a weak response from the other side, strained. “I’m, ngh, fine. I’ll be out in a minute. Please just, tell them I’m okay.”

Heeseung’s hand presses flat against the door. “Open it.”

A pause. Then, softer, embarrassed, “Hyung… no. Go away. I don’t want you to see this. I’ll clean up.”

The word hyung hits him right in the chest.

“Jaeyun,” Heeseung says again, voice breaking despite himself, “please open the door. Or I swear I will knock it down.”

Silence.

His jaw tightens. He turns just enough to look back down the hall. “Find the key,” he tells the staff, already bracing himself. “Or something to break the lock.”

They hurry off.

And then, click.

The lock unlatches.

Heeseung doesn’t hesitate. He pushes the door open and all but rushes inside.

Jake is on the floor, slumped against the wall beside the toilet, knees pulled in, arms wrapped around his middle like he’s trying to hold himself together. His face is pale and clammy, lashes wet with tears, hair plastered messily to his forehead. There’s no dignity left in it, just misery and exhaustion and the quiet shame Jake always carries when he feels like a burden.

“Jaeyun…” Heeseung breathes, dropping down in front of him without thinking. “Baby.”

Jake flinches, then looks up, eyes glassy. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m gross. I smell, I, ”

Heeseung cuts him off by gently pushing Jake’s hair back, thumb brushing over his cheek, wiping away tears and snot without a second thought.

A soft smile curves his lips, aching and sincere. “In sickness and in health,” he murmurs. “Remember? You don’t get to send me away for this.”

Jake’s lips tremble.

The staff reappears with water and a towel, hovering uncertainly. Heeseung takes them with a nod. “Thank you. I’ve got him.”

They retreat quietly, closing the door behind them.

Heeseung shifts, easing himself back against the wall and guiding Jake with him, pulling him carefully until Jake is sitting between his legs, back pressed against Heeseung’s chest. Jake resists for half a second, then melts, boneless with relief, leaning fully into him.

Heeseung wraps his arms around him, one hand splayed over Jake’s belly, the other rubbing slow, grounding circles along his side.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks softly, not accusing. Just hurt. Worried.

Jake exhales shakily. “I didn’t want to worry you. It’s, ” he swallows, voice small, “it’s been happening the whole pregnancy. At first just mornings. After breakfast. But lately it’s noon too. And the afternoons.” A pause. “I thought it would stop by now.”

Heeseung presses his jaw against Jake’s temple, eyes closing. Guilt coils deep in his gut. He should’ve noticed. Should’ve been here.

His hand moves more deliberately over Jake’s stomach, slow and warm, hoping the pressure soothes both omega and baby. “I’m here now,” he murmurs. “You’re not doing this alone.”

He starts humming without realizing it, low and steady, a familiar melody he’s carried with him for years. Jake’s breathing gradually evens out, weight settling heavier against him as exhaustion finally starts to win.

“What song is that,” Jake asks drowsily.

Heeseung smiles faintly. “It’s called Like a Star. About someone who shows up and changes your whole life without warning.”

Jake hums in response, already half-asleep.

Heeseung keeps humming long after Jake goes quiet, holding him there on the bathroom floor, arms firm and unyielding, as if daring the world to try and take this moment from him.

And somewhere between the hum of the song and the steady rise and fall of Jake’s chest, Heeseung makes a decision.

From that day on, until the afternoons finally pass, until the sickness eases, he works from home.

No meetings are more important than this.
No distance worth keeping.
No habit worth clinging to.

Not when Jake needs him.
Not ever again.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The bustling streets of Tokyo were alive with energy as Heeseung held their toddler on his hip, her little hands gripping his shirt as they walked. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow over the city, and the air was filled with the sounds of chatter and the occasional honk of a car. Jake walked beside them, his eyes sparkling with joy as he watched his husband and daughter interact.

Flashbacks to the day Heeseung had begged Jake to take them on his work trip flooded his mind. Heeseung, on his knees, had pleaded with a mix of desperation and charm. "Jaeyun, please, I can't be away from the two of you that long," he had said, his voice filled with emotion.

Jake, seated on the sofa next to their little girl, had looked at his husband with a knowing smile. "Hyung, it's only a month, and you really think us two going with you would be smart?" He had asked, his tone playful yet questioning.

Their little girl, engrossed in a baby cartoon, barely noticed her father's dramatic display. Jake was feeding her green mush, his eyes softening as he looked at his husband.

Heeseung, not one to back down, had shoved his face into Jake's lap, wrapping his arms around his waist, his words muffled but his intent clear. "Hyung, come on, it's gonna be okay." Jake had heard, but their little girl, ever the attentive one, had patted her dad's head, capturing his attention. "You want to go right, Miss Heart? Look at her pretty. How can you say no to her?" He had used his best doe eyes, and Jake scoffed, rolling his eyes and relenting.

"Who are you, and where is my husband, who never acts like this?" Jake had teased, carding his hand through Heeseung's hair as he stares up at Jake with those bambi like eyes that always make Jake go weak in the knees. "…Fine, we'll go," he relents, a small smile playing on his lips. Heeseung, overjoyed, had begun babbling to the baby about how much she was going to love Japan.

Jake, rolling his eyes with a smile, had shoved a spoonful of green mush into Heeseung's mouth, eliciting a disgusted face. "You owe me s-e-x tonight now," Jake had said, pinching Heeseung's cheek, and their little girl had squealed in delight.

Now, seated in a small sushi place tucked along a side street, the aroma of fresh fish, soy, and steamed rice mingling with the chatter of diners, Heeseung bounced their daughter gently on his lap. She jabbered in her own baby language, her hands slapping playfully against his face as she tried to reach for his sunglasses perched on his head that pushed his hair back. "Pretty, you know I can feel you staring at me, right?" Heeseung had said, kissing their daughter's cheek loudly before turning to Jake with a mischievous grin.

Jake, his cheeks flushing, had pushed his glasses up to mimic Heeseung's and taken a swig of his beer. He places his hand on his husband’s thigh, "You look really good with our baby, that's all... and I can't help but admire it every time I see you with her," he had admitted, his voice soft.

Heeseung, leaning in close, had covered their daughter's ears as she tried to remove his hands. "Once we put her to sleep, you and I can try for another one tonight," he had whispered, his breath warm against Jake's face.

Jake had wanted to disintegrate right then and there, the temptation to forget about the food and return to their stay overwhelming. But the food had arrived, and Heeseung's bedroom eyes had never left Jake for the rest of their meal. True to his word, Heeseung followed through on his promise later that night, leaving Jake breathless and content.

Since their trip to Tokyo, Jake and Heeseung had explored every intimate possibility, their connection deepening with each passionate encounter. "Yes, alpha, just like that," Jake would moan, his nails digging into Heeseung's back as they moved together. "You feel so good, my beautiful omega. Fuck, I love you," Heeseung would whisper, his voice a low growl of desire.

They tried everything, from the tender to the wild, each time hoping for a different outcome. "Gonna fill you up so much and good. Want you to have all my pups," Heeseung would murmur, his thrusts precise and deep. Jake would whine, "Hyung, please more," his body arching as Heeseung hit that sweet spot that made Jake's eyes roll back in ecstasy.

"Yes, yes, yes, hyun, fuck, Hee, " Jake's words would trail off as Heeseung took hold of his face, pulling him into a fierce kiss. "Hyung, and alpha only. Pretty, I thought I've made myself clear," Heeseung would say, his voice a mix of command and tenderness as he pushed Jake further up the wall, one hand on his ass, the other maneuvering between them to stimulate Jake even further.

But despite their efforts, despite the passion and the love, nothing changed. Each negative pregnancy test was a stab to Jake's heart, and each heat cycle that passed without conception was a reminder of his perceived failure. Heeseung could feel Jake's worry and despair, but there was little he could do to ease the burden. He was there for Jake, always, his calming pheromones a constant presence, but it seemed that no amount of support could fill the void Jake felt.

Another Friday night dinner with their parents rolled around, and Heeseung could tell Jake was on edge. He tried to help in any way he could, taking their baby girl for a moment of peace or simply being there, a silent source of strength. Jake appreciated the effort, but he couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy. What good was he if he could only give Heeseung one child? He was an omega, and he should have been able to provide more.

The ride to their parents' house was filled with the sound of their daughter's babbling and the nursery rhymes playing softly in the car. Heeseung engaged with their little one, responding to her attempts at talking as if they were having a profound conversation. But his eyes kept drifting to Jake, his concern evident as he reached over to hold Jake's hand or squeeze his leg, a silent reminder that he was there for him.

During the dinner, Jake was distant, his responses short and dismissive. Their parents tried to draw him into conversation, but Jake remained withdrawn, his mind trapped in a cycle of self-doubt and regret. As they prepared to leave, their mothers handed them plane tickets to Iceland, insisting it was a belated honeymoon present.

"All the information is sent to both of you, and we're going to take turns taking care of her. She's going to be fine, and the two of you deserve a break to relax. Think of it as a very late honeymoon present since you two never did take one," their moms said, hugging them both tightly. Heeseung thanked them, knowing how stressful things had been. Jake, with tears brimming in his eyes, thanked them with a small sniffle, his voice barely above a whisper.

In Iceland, Jake and Heeseung immersed themselves in the beauty of the country, from the breathtaking landscapes to the cozy nights spent tangled in each other's arms. They explored the vibrant city of Reykjavik, taking in the colorful houses and the lively culture. They hiked through the otherworldly landscapes of the Golden Circle, marveling at the geysers and waterfalls. They found solace in the quiet, serene moments, like watching the northern lights dance across the sky.

Despite the joy of their trip, there were moments of heartache when they video-called their daughter. Her not understanding why her parents were on a screen and not in front of her, or hearing her cries for them, was a painful reminder of their absence. But their parents reassured them, insisting that everything was fine and that they didn't need to call every hour.

On their last night in Iceland, Jake and Heeseung shared a candlelight dinner, the northern lights shining through the window, casting a magical glow over their table. "I can't believe it's already been two years of us being married," Heeseung said, his voice soft with wonder.

Jake smiled, his eyes reflecting the dance of the lights. "I know, it feels just yesterday we were standing at the altar."

Heeseung stroked Jake's hand fondly. "Can I say something? Although it's been a short time us been together with the arranged marriage and having our baby, I don't regret any of it… Really,  because life is funny that way sometimes... and I'm gonna be honest, I'm really happy we were able to take this trip because I know times have been stressful back home with trying for another baby. But I want you to know that no matter what, I love you, Jake. If she's meant to be our one and only, I'm completely content with just you and her for the rest of our lives... and Layla, of course."

They both laughed at the mention of their border collie, the sound filling the room with warmth.

Jake took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Heeseung's. "Heeseung... I love you too, and I agree. I think this trip was a good escape for us, and I'm coming to the acceptance that although I wanted more than one, if that's all we're supposed to get, then I'm okay with that as long as I have you by my side."

That night, as they fell into bed one last time on their late honeymoon, Heeseung stilled, his movements within Jake pausing. "Jaeyun… my sweet Jaeyunie," he said, using Jake's name in a rare occurrence, his voice filled with emotion.

Jake took hold of Heeseung's face, calling him back with his own name. "Heeseung?"

Heeseung’s tears slipped free, quiet and unguarded, matching the shine in Jake’s eyes as he spoke.

“There’s something rare about being able to give someone all of yourself and not feel the instinct to pull back, to be met without being asked to shrink or fix what’s unfinished. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to become someone worthy of love, like I had to reach some better version of myself before I could stand still. But with you, Jake, I don’t feel like I have to arrive anywhere first. I can start exactly where I am.”

His voice faltered, but he didn’t stop.

“This is what I wanted to say on our wedding day. The words just didn’t come when I needed them to. I always thought there would be more time, another moment where it would be easier, cleaner. But standing here with you, I know there isn’t a moment that matters more than this one.”

He swallowed, thumb brushing at his cheek.

“Loving you leaves nowhere to hide. You see me as I am, the parts I’m proud of, and the parts I’m still learning how to forgive. And you stay. I can’t promise to be perfect, and I won’t pretend I’ll never be afraid. But I can promise this: I will choose you. When it’s simple. When it’s painful. When staying would be easier than speaking, and when forever feels heavier than I know how to carry.”

He stepped closer, voice softening.

“Everything I’ve been, every mistake I’ve carried with me, I’m setting it down here. With you. If time has to begin somewhere, let it begin like this: honest, steady, and without running away. No lifetime will ever feel like enough with you. So let’s start with forever.”

Jake starts strong. He always does.

“Today feels like, ” He exhales sharply, then laughs under his breath like he can’t believe himself. “God. Sorry.”

Heeseung’s fingers brush Jake’s wrist. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”

Jake swallows, throat working. “I’ve spent my whole life thinking I had to do everything on my own. Carry myself. Fix my own messes. Pretend I knew where I was going.” His voice wavers and he stops again, blinking hard. “I thought if I just… stayed enough me, I’d be fine.”

Heeseung gives his hand a small squeeze. Steady. Patient.

“But today, ” Jake’s breath stutters. He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, shoulders lifting as he pulls in air. “Today I become your husband. And that means my life doesn’t stop at me anymore. It stretches to you. To us.” He laughs again, wetter this time. “I didn’t think that would feel this big.”

“It’s okay,” Heeseung whispers again. “I’m right here.”

Jake nods, eyes shining as he finds him again. “Whatever comes next, whatever we don’t have figured out yet, I want to face it with you. Not because I’m ready for everything.” A tear slips free; he doesn’t bother wiping it away. “But because I’m ready for you.”

His voice breaks completely on the last part.

“This, this is where our life really starts. And I mean it. Every word I never said before.” He breathes out, shaky but certain. “I’m here. I’m choosing you. I’m not doing this alone anymore.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, their words dissolved into quiet breaths and shared warmth, promises pressed not just into skin but into the space between their hearts. Beneath the slow sweep of the northern lights, Jake and Heeseung held on as if anchoring themselves to something permanent, something real. No grand vows left to say, only the certainty of being chosen, again and again. The night bore witness as they moved together toward the same tomorrow, this moment marking not just the end of a day, but the beginning of their forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The clock on the bedside table glowed 5:28 AM, its soft light casting a gentle glow across the room as Jake dropped his forehead back onto the pillow. His veins bulged in his forearms, knuckles turning white as he gripped the pillow with trembling hands. "You're doing so good, pretty. I wish you could see the sight before my eyes," Heeseung's low, husky voice carried against Jake's ear, his words a mix of encouragement and desire. Jake bit his lip, trying to suppress any sound, the taste of blood faintly present as he fought to keep quiet.

"Hyung, please... I can't," Jake croaked out breathlessly, his body tense with the effort of holding back.

They moved at a slow, painstakingly careful pace, each touch and shift measured, the kind of choreography born from years of practice. The house was silent, their children asleep and blissfully unaware, and for once, there was no one tugging at their sleeves or asking for help with homework, snacks, or the million small emergencies that came with family life. These were the rare, sacred pockets of time just for them. Over the years, they had perfected the art of quiet intimacy: a bed that didn’t squeak, felt pads under the frame to muffle every scrape, the mattress deliberately placed away from the wall so nothing thudded against it, and even a carpet carefully chosen for sound absorption. It was almost a science, really, love measured in decibels.

Locks helped, but rarely guaranteed anything. Not even seconds after securing a door, a knock could rattle the frame and dissolve every last shred of private thought.

They had become masters of improvisation, quick encounters in the shower before breakfast, as the first light of dawn crept through the windows. Heeseung slipped into the shower, the steam enveloping him in a warm embrace. Jake, already in the shower, turned to him with a playful smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Trying to save water again, are we?" Jake teased, his arms circling around Heeseung's waist, pulling him close. Heeseung chuckled, his hands finding Jake's hips, drawing him in even tighter. "Of course," he murmured, his lips capturing Jake's in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. The water cascaded over them, creating a private world where only they existed.

Whispered moments while folding laundry,  "I'm going to go help your mother fold clothes. Does anyone want to help?" The kids, ever eager to avoid chores, quickly declined. With the coast clear, Heeseung pulled Jake into the laundry room, his heart racing. He pressed Jake against the wall, his hands pinning Jake's wrists above his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief and desire."H-heeseung," Jake stammered, his voice a mix of surprise and excitement. "What if they come in?" Heeseung leaned in, his voice a low whisper. "They're not coming in. Be quiet and turn around. We don't have much time."

Jake complied, his breath hitching as Heeseung's hands explored his body, quick and sure. They stole a moment, a stolen kiss, a rushed embrace, their hearts pounding in sync with the ticking of the clock. It was a dance of desperation and desire, a testament to the love that had endured through the chaos of parenthood. As they pulled away, breathless and flushed, Heeseung pressed a final, tender kiss to Jake's neck, whispering, "I love you." Jake turned, his eyes shining with unshed tears and unspoken words. "I love you too, Heeseung. Always."

And the delicate balance of moving together silently while a child wandered dangerously close, asking the eternal questions: As they cooked dinner together, the kitchen filled with the aroma of simmering spices and sizzling oil, Heeseung and Jake moved in a choreographed dance. Heeseung's hand brushed against Jake's as he reached for a spoon, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity through them both. Jake's eyes met Heeseung's, a silent promise passing between them.

Heeseung leaned in, his voice a low whisper against Jake's ear. "Remember last night? How you shook beneath my touch?" His words were a spark, igniting a fire within Jake. His breath hitched, his body responding to the memory. He turned, his eyes dark with desire, but before he could respond, a small voice interrupted their moment."Dad, have you seen my other shoe?" Their youngest son stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Heeseung quickly stepped back, his expression neutral. "Check under the couch, buddy. You might have kicked it off while watching TV." The boy nodded and scampered off, leaving Heeseung and Jake alone once more. Jake turned back to the stove, his heart still racing from Heeseung's words. Heeseung moved closer, his body almost touching Jake's as he reached for a pan.

"Later," Heeseung murmured, his breath hot against Jake's neck. "I'll remind you of every touch, every kiss." Jake's body tensed with anticipation, his mind already drifting to the night ahead. But their moment was interrupted again, this time by their daughter."Mom, are you picking me up from practice tomorrow, or is Dad?" she called from the living room.

Jake turned, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I'll pick you up, sweetheart. Don't worry."As the children's questions continued, Heeseung and Jake navigated the delicate balance of parenthood and desire, stealing glances and touches, their love a secret language known only to them.

They loved their children dearly and wouldn't trade them for anything, but the constant need for attention was a challenge. Their children, especially as they grew older, always wanted to be near one of their parents when they were home, which was rare for some kids. However, they played and got along well, and the maids and butlers often helped by keeping the children entertained, especially when either Jake’s heat or Heeseung's rut approached.

At first, it used to embarrass the pair, but now, they didn't even bat an eyelash. Their grandparents also helped, taking the children for weekends and spoiling them rotten, a constant source of bickering between the parents and grandparents.

Heeseung had finally taken over his family's company after his father retired, and although he told Jake from the beginning that he never had to lift a finger or work, Jake decided to put his architectural degree to use after Tokyo. He worked for Heeseung and the company as a consultant for the architecture team, able to work remotely but always ready to go into the office when needed. Heeseung's face lit up whenever he saw Jake standing in his office doorway or heard his voice through the office.

Heeseung's left hand landed over Jake's, their wedding bands clicking against each other and glinting in the dim bedroom light. They were new bands, chosen to celebrate their 15th wedding anniversary back in March. They had renewed their vows on a beach in the Maldives, surrounded by their parents and children, saying all the words they meant to say and more.

"Ngh- fuck, fuck, yes," Heeseung murmured, his lips pressing against Jake's warm, sweaty back as he pushed deep inside him, holding there for a second. "Hyung, I need- you- to move, please," Jake gasped, his voice a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Heeseung pulled out and turned Jake onto his back, practically folding him in half as he pushed back in, hitting all the sweet spots he knew like the back of his hand. "Yes, hyung," Jake's head was thrown back as Heeseung pushed himself downward, pressing his husband further into the mattress at a relentless pace. Their faces came inches apart, and they both pressed their noses against each other's scent glands, nuzzling as their time quickly ran out.

Jake, with a smirk, flipped Heeseung onto his back, taking control of the situation. He leaned down, his breath hot on Heeseung's ear. "You like that, pretty boy? Like being at my mercy?" Jake growled, his voice low and commanding.

Heeseung, already breathless, whispered back, "You know I do, Jake. You're driving me crazy." He arched his back, pressing against Jake, feeling the heat and strength of his dominant husband.

Jake, with a confident grin, slid his hands down Heeseung's sides, gripping his hips firmly. "Good, because I'm just getting started." He moved with purpose, his body commanding and demanding, as if he were staking his claim.

Heeseung, caught in the thrall of Jake's dominance, let out a moan. "Jake, you're so damn good at this. I can't... I can't hold back." His words were a mix of surrender and anticipation, his body responding to every touch and command.

Jake, feeling Heeseung's walls clench around him, leaned down and captured his lips in a fierce kiss. "Then don't. Let go, hyung. Let me feel you cum inside me." His voice was a low rumble, a promise of pleasure and release.

Heeseung, with a final groan, surrendered completely, his body shuddering as he reached his peak, lost in the intensity of their shared passion. Jake, following closely behind, found his own release, the two of them collapsing together, breathless and sated, the world outside their embrace fading away.

Jake squeezed his walls around Heeseung, eliciting a groan from his husband. "Pretty, you're killing me here," Heeseung nibbled Jake's ear as Jake grabbed onto Heeseung's biceps, the two chasing their orgasms together. The clock now read 6:15 AM, and they knew their time was up, but in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Their lives were a delicate balance of family, work, and passion. Despite the challenges, they cherished every moment, from the chaotic days with their children to the intimate nights they stole for themselves. Their love story was a tapestry woven with threads of dedication, mutual respect, and an unyielding desire for each other. The world outside could wait, but their connection was timeless and unbreakable.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The room was quiet in that hazy, cocooned way that only came after, curtains drawn, bodies warm, the air still carrying the echo of their closeness. Jake lay sprawled half on top of Heeseung, bare legs tangled with his, cheek pressed to his chest. Heeseung’s arm was draped heavy around Jake’s waist, possessive even now, thumb tracing lazy, absent-minded patterns into his skin.

Sarang was with her grandparents for the weekend.

Heeseung tilted his head down, watching Jake with that look, the one that always ruined him. Softened. Undone. His fingers brushed up, nudging Jake’s chin until he looked up.

There it was.

Those eyebrows, still slightly furrowed, lashes heavy, lips swollen and pink from smiling too much and being kissed even more. Heeseung swallowed, already feeling that familiar, dangerous pull.

“You’re doing it again,” Jake murmured, amused, eyes half-lidded.

“Doing what?” Heeseung asked, innocent in a way that fooled absolutely no one.

“Looking at me like you’re about to devour me.”

Heeseung snorted softly and leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to Jake’s mouth, unrushed, reverent. “Can you blame me?”

Jake smiled into the kiss, breath warm. “Yes,” he teased.

“That’s because,” Heeseung said, shifting, rolling them easily so Jake was pinned beneath him again, strong hands braced on either side of his head, “you keep letting me.”

Jake laughed, breathless, hands coming up to curl into Heeseung’s hair. “You manhandle me and then act shocked when I let you.”

“I don’t act shocked,” Heeseung corrected, grinning. “I act pleased.”

Eventually, Heeseung settled against the headboard, pulling Jake back against him, Jake’s back to his chest now, one of Heeseung’s hands splayed over his stomach as it belonged there. They lay like that for a while, talking about nothing and everything, about work, about Sarang’s new habit of throwing food off her high chair.

Jake yawned, fingers absentmindedly tracing Heeseung’s forearm. “She’s getting big,” he said quietly. “Sarang, I mean.”

“She is,” Heeseung agreed, pressing a kiss into Jake’s hair. “Too fast.”

There was a pause. Not uncomfortable, just thoughtful.

“Do you ever think about…” Jake hesitated, then smiled softly, “…doing it all again?”

Heeseung’s hand stilled.

“Again how?” he asked, though something in his voice had already changed.

Jake turned his head just enough to look back at him. “Another baby. Someday. Not now, just… someday.”

For a moment, Heeseung didn’t answer. Then he shifted, tightening his hold, forehead resting against Jake’s temple.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I think about it more than I probably should.”

Jake laughed quietly. “You?”

“I mean,” Heeseung said, nudging Jake’s eyebrow gently with his nose, “you, a baby, and those lips? You already know I don’t stand a chance.”

Jake groaned. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Heeseung murmured, lips brushing Jake’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, “you married me.”
“If we did have another someday… would you want a boy or a girl?”

Heeseung hummed, thinking. “I don’t know if I’d survive another girl,” he said honestly. “Sarang already has me wrapped around her finger.”

Jake laughed softly. “You let her.”

“I absolutely do,” Heeseung replied without shame. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at Jake properly. “But a boy would be… different. I think I’d be scared in a whole new way.”

Jake turned onto his side, facing him now, eyes warm. “You’d be amazing. You already are.”

Heeseung smiled, then reached up, tracing Jake’s eyebrow with his thumb, slow, deliberate, like committing it to memory. “If we had a boy,” he said, “I’d want him to have your eyes. Soft. Kind. Like he’s always thinking about something gentle.”

Jake’s breath caught just a little. He reached up in return, fingers skimming over Heeseung’s lips. “Then I want our kids to have these,” he teased quietly. “Because they’re always smiling, even when you’re pretending not to.”

Heeseung laughed and kissed Jake’s fingers. “You’re dangerous.”

“I know.”

They shifted again, legs tangling, Jake’s knee hooking comfortably over Heeseung’s thigh.

“What about names?” Jake asked. “You always have opinions about names.”

“That’s because you suggest things like, ” Heeseung paused, smirking. “, names that sound like fairytale princes.”

Jake gasped softly, mock offended. “Excuse you. Sarang is a beautiful name.”

“And perfect,” Heeseung agreed immediately, no hesitation. His expression softened. “She’s going to grow up so… strong. I can already see it. Loud when she wants to be, stubborn, but with such a big heart.”

“Okay,” he murmured, staring up at the ceiling. “If we’re just… talking. No promises. What would you pick?”

Jake smiled to himself. “That’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Heeseung said, grinning. “That’s why I asked.”

Jake rolled onto his side, propping his head up. “For a girl… I used to like names that sounded bright. Like Lina. Or Mira. Something that feels warm when you say it.”

Heeseung hummed. “Mira’s cute.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I am,” he insisted. “I just keep imagining her at five years old already… I always liked softer names, too. Hana. Ara. Maybe even Yuna.”

Jake stilled for half a second at that, eyes flicking to him. “Yuna?”

Heeseung shrugged, casual but not careless. “Yeah. I don’t know why. It just… feels nice.”

Jake’s eyebrows lifted, pleasantly surprised. “Yuna,” he repeated, testing it. “That’s… really pretty.”

“What about a boy?” Jake asked. “You always avoid that question.”

Heeseung reached up and flicked his forehead lightly. “Rude.”

They shifted again, Jake’s leg sliding over Heeseung’s, the warmth between them grounding and heavy.

Heeseung sighed dramatically. “Boys are harder.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious,” Heeseung said. “I don’t want anything too harsh. Maybe Jun. Or Seojoon. Something calm.”

Jake nodded slowly. “I like Jun.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung glanced at him. “You look like you’re already attached.”

Jake shrugged. “Maybe. Or Minseo. I’ve always liked that one.”

Heeseung repeated it under his breath, testing it. “Minjae.” Then he smiled. “That sounds like someone stubborn.”

Jake smirked. “Wonder where they’d get that from.”

They fell into an easy quiet, names floating between them like possibilities they didn’t have to choose yet.

After a moment, Heeseung spoke again, softer. “You know… some names feel like they belong to a specific kid.”

Jake’s expression warmed. “Yeah.”

“Like Sarang,” Heeseung continued. “That one, there was never any doubt.”

Jake’s eyes softened. “She fits it too well. I think she’ll protect people. Maybe not even on purpose, she’ll just stand there and somehow make people feel safe.”

Heeseung leaned in, forehead touching Jake’s. “Like her mom.”

Jake shook his head, smiling. “Like her dad.”

They laughed quietly together, the sound low and intimate.

“How many do you think?” Jake asked after a moment.

Heeseung pretended to think very hard. “At least two more,” he said casually.

Jake choked. “Two?”

“Okay, okay,” Heeseung amended quickly, grinning. “Maybe one more. Or, ” He paused, eyes lighting up with that familiar spark. “, however many you want. I just… like the idea of our house being full.”

Jake’s fingers traced the line of Heeseung’s jaw, then down his throat, lingering over his collarbone. “I’d want them to have your patience,” he murmured. “And your steadiness. The way you show up. Every time.”

Heeseung caught Jake’s hand, pressing it flat to his chest. “Then I want them to have your warmth. The way you make everything feel like home.” His thumb brushed Jake’s knuckles. “And your laugh. Definitely your laugh.”

Jake’s eyes shone, voice barely above a whisper. “We’d be good at it. More kids, I mean.”

“We already are,” Heeseung said simply.

They lay there like that for a while longer, tracing familiar features, talking about imaginary futures, about bedtime stories and scraped knees and birthday candles that would someday crowd the table. No pressure. No promises, just love stretched forward, hopeful and warm.

Eventually, Heeseung pulled Jake close again, chin resting on his shoulder, arms secure around him.

“Whatever happens,” he murmured, “I want it to be with you.”

Jake smiled, eyes closing. “Always.”

Heeseung turned toward him, thumb brushing over Jake’s lips, lingering there. “I think… whatever names we throw around, the right ones will stick. The rest just fade.”

Jake leaned into the touch. “And we’ll argue about it anyway.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Heeseung said, smiling. “I’ll lose, but I’ll argue.”

Jake laughed quietly, resting his forehead against Heeseung’s. “You always do.”

Heeseung kissed him then, slow, unhurried. “Still,” he murmured when they pulled apart, “I like imagining it. Even if nothing comes of it.”

Jake smiled, eyes warm. “Me too.”

They settled back into the pillows, limbs tangled again, names whispered and forgotten, some unknowingly chosen already, others destined to remain only here, between them, in the quiet aftermath, where love was allowed to dream without consequence.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sound of stomping feet down the staircase reached Jake's ears as he closed the fridge, pulling out the milk needed for the morning. He quickly poured it into his coffee before the kids could get their hands on it. "Mommy?" a voice called from behind him. Jake turned to see his eldest daughter standing there, her eyes bright and curious.

"Yes, lovey?" Jake replied, sipping his coffee.

"Remember, I have that project I'm working on after school. Can either you or Dad pick me up when I'm done?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Your dad can probably get you; he's picking your brother up after his robotics club, too. I have to take the twins to their swimming lessons after school. Just tell him when he comes down; I'm sure he won't mind," Jake explained, smoothing down her hair and placing a gentle kiss on her head. "And don't forget, you promised me we'd go shopping for new pointe shoes this weekend," she added with a playful smile.

His eldest gave him a knowing look, a hint of a grin on her lips. "I haven't forgotten, lovey. Now go sit and eat your breakfast before it gets cold," Jake urged, ushering her to her seat as he began to get all their lunch bags out.

Despite having help around the house, Jake and Heeseung made sure to be actively involved in their children's lives. They dropped and picked the kids up from school, helped with homework, and were always present at their school events. They also enjoyed cooking, watching movies, and having game nights together as a family.

More footsteps and chatter filled the kitchen as their youngest, twins, and his second-oldest made their way to the dining table. "Hey, hey, hey, where are my morning kisses?" Jake teased, and the three of them rushed towards him, each receiving a tight squeeze and a generous dose of attention and adoration.

Jake finished preparing the lunches and joined in the conversation at the table, occasionally chiming in with a smile. Just as he sat down, Heeseung entered the room with their middle child on his back, both of them laughing. Heeseung made his way around the table, pressing kisses to each of their children, bending down dramatically as the child on his back giggled with each jostle.

Reaching Jake, Heeseung turned, leaning their child towards his husband so Jake could give him a good morning kiss. Heeseung then set their child down in their chair and leaned in, pressing his lips to Jake's in a soft, family-friendly yet passionate-filled kiss. Their eyes shone with love, just as they had all those years ago.

"Good morning, hyung," Jake caressed Heeseung's cheek, his voice filled with affection.

"Morning, pretty," Heeseung replied, using the nickname after all these years as he sat down next to his husband at the table. Their family was a testament to their love and dedication, and every morning was a reminder of the beautiful life they had built together.

Heeseung and Jake’s home is a vibrant tapestry of love, laughter, and a myriad of endearing nicknames that fill every corner with warmth and familiarity. Their eldest, Sarang, now fourteen, is the steadfast anchor of the house, a responsible and quietly affectionate teenager who often finds herself on the receiving end of her parents' playful teasing. Her scent of sunshine and crisp apples, warm and bright, like golden sunlight spilling through the windows, a comforting presence that matches her steady nature. Heeseung, with a twinkle in his eye, calls her "Sari" or "Miss Heart," a dad joke that he insists is a heartfelt tribute to her name, "because you’re my Sarang." This earns him an eye roll from Sarang, a response that Heeseung finds delightful. Jake, with his own tender nickname, refers to her as "Lovey," a holdover from when she was a tiny toddler. Her siblings, in their unique way, have dubbed her "Rara," a nickname that stuck from their early attempts to pronounce her name.

Yuna, the eleven-year-old, is the bright spark of the family, always buzzing with energy from one room to another. She smells like honey, sugar, and soft lemon, sweet and cheerful, a scent that clings lightly to the air like laughter itself. To Heeseung, she’s "Bee," while Jake affectionately calls her "Yunie," a name he made up during the summer when Yuna was obsessed with catching bugs in the backyard. Sarang, with a loving smile, calls her "Yuyu," while the younger siblings have adopted "Nana" as her nickname, a cheerful, sing-song version that perfectly captures her sunny personality.

Minseo, the nine-year-old, is the quietest of the bunch, a thoughtful and sweet child who prefers to listen more than he speaks. His scent is airy and fresh, like gentle pine in winter, with a soft touch of marshmallow, calming and comforting to anyone nearby. Both Heeseung and Jake call him "Bean," a nickname they agreed on immediately. His siblings, in their simplicity, refer to him as "Min," a short and sweet name that suits him perfectly.

The twins, Soeun and Haneul, at five, are the chaos and charm of the household. Soeun, with her bright eyes and endless chatter, carries the scent of sunlit cotton with a hint of orange peel, light and playful, a fragrance that dances in the air wherever she goes. She is "Sunshine" to Heeseung and "Little Star" to Jake. Her siblings have affectionately dubbed her "Soso," a nickname as lively as her laugh. Her twin brother, Haneul, is softer and more sensitive, with a scent of powdery vanilla and cedar, gentle, comforting, and soothing like a bedtime story. Known as "Neullie" to Heeseung and "Bear" to Jake, his siblings call him "Hani," a tender, easy name that fits him perfectly. Together, the twins fill the house with shrieks of laughter, wild imagination, and a kind of light that keeps everyone smiling, no matter how chaotic the day gets.

Even the family’s dogs have become integral to their rhythm. Layla, their cream border collie, was adopted a few months before Sarang was born and has grown up alongside the couple and their first child. Patient and loyal, she often curled beside the couch while Heeseung and Jake shared late-night baby shifts. Jake playfully refers to her as their "first daughter," and Sarang proudly calls her "sister." Four years later, Ollie, their blue merle Australian Shepherd, was adopted when the house started feeling a little bigger and louder. The middle kids, Yuna and Minseo, instantly claimed him as theirs, and his playful energy and gentle temperament match their dynamic perfectly. Most recently, Benji, the family’s spirited corgi, has become the twins’ pride and joy. Named by the twins themselves, Benji follows them everywhere, from living room forts to backyard adventures.

Between Layla’s calm wisdom, Ollie’s bright enthusiasm, and Benji’s boundless energy, the three dogs complete the family in their own way, each one tied to a chapter of their life, a piece of love that’s grown with them year after year.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A few months had passed since their Iceland trip, and life had settled into a comfortable rhythm, one Jake still sometimes had to pause and marvel at. He’d started helping Heeseung more formally at the company, officially joining the architecture team on smaller projects. At first it was simple things: refining blueprints, organizing materials, sitting in on meetings and quietly taking notes, running coffee back and forth between departments. But slowly, naturally, Heeseung began pulling him into real work, trusting him with pieces of projects that actually mattered.

They worked in tandem more often than not. Heeseung paced behind Jake’s chair, hands folded behind his back, reading over his shoulder. Jake talked through ideas out loud, occasionally glancing up to catch Heeseung’s expression, sharp, thoughtful, quietly proud in a way that made Jake’s chest warm. Sometimes Heeseung leaned down to point something out on the screen, his voice low and steady, close enough that Jake forgot what he’d been saying entirely.

Watching Heeseung work was its own kind of awe.

As CEO, he moved through the office with quiet authority, no raised voice, no unnecessary commands. People listened because they trusted him. Heeseung didn’t dominate rooms; he anchored them. Jake loved seeing him like that, loved the contrast between the man who stole his hoodies at home and the one who stood so effortlessly in charge here.

It was never clearer than in meetings.

The conference room was all glass and steel, sunlight reflecting off the long table like a spotlight. Jake sat near the far end, tablet in front of him, hands folded carefully in his lap, very intentionally not fidgeting. Across the room, Heeseung stood at the head of the table.

This was CEO Heeseung.

His posture was straight, shoulders squared, blazer perfectly fitted. His voice carried easily as he walked the team through the proposal, calm and controlled. He didn’t rush or over-explain. When interrupted, he listened fully before responding, measured, decisive, steady.

Jake swallowed.

It was ridiculous how much it affected him. This wasn’t the Heeseung who kissed his knuckles absentmindedly or leaned into his space when no one was looking. This Heeseung commanded the room without raising his voice once, fingers resting lightly on the table as he spoke about budgets, timelines, structural feasibility.

“Let’s move forward with the revised design,” Heeseung said, gaze sweeping the room. “I want the new draft by Friday.”

Heads nodded immediately.

Jake glanced down at his tablet, pretending to review notes while his heart did something embarrassingly stupid in his chest. God. Heeseung looked unreal like this, focused, authoritative, completely in his element.

Then, briefly, Heeseung’s eyes flicked to him.

Just for a second.

The corner of his mouth softened. Barely noticeable. Something only Jake would ever catch.

Jake’s ears burned. He straightened in his chair, suddenly very aware of how close he was sitting, of how easily that composed presence unraveled behind closed doors.

And that, unfortunately, was the problem.

The danger was the office.

Late afternoons were the worst, when most of the floor had cleared out, the sun slanted through the glass walls of Heeseung’s office, and the door was closed just a little too firmly. More often than not, despite Jake’s firm reminders whispered under his breath

“Hyung,” Jake murmured, pulling back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against Heeseung’s. “We can’t.”

Heeseung smiled, that infuriating, fond curve of his lips. “Why not?”

“Because,” Jake said, gesturing vaguely around them, “we’re at work.”

Heeseung tilted his head, completely unbothered. “You’re my husband.”

“Yes,” Jake agreed immediately, then sighed, helplessly smiling, “but you’re also my boss.”

Jake’s words hung in the air for a moment, and Heeseung’s smile only grew wider, more mischievous. He took a step closer, his body pressing against Jake’s, and the papers on the desk scattered as Heeseung’s hands found their way to Jake’s hips, pulling him closer. Jake’s breath hitched as Heeseung’s lips found his neck, trailing kisses that sent shivers down his spine.

All in all meetings would adjourn, the room would empty, and the contrast between public composure and private familiarity would snap clean in half. Sometimes it was Jake sprawled out on the board meeting table, blazer abandoned,  as Heeseung leaned over him fucking him as if he had all the time in the world.

Other times, it was Heeseung devouring Jake on his desk, Jake's hands gripped the edges as Heeseung feasted upon him. Heeseung's voice, low and teasing, promised pleasures that made Jake's heart race and his protests weak. "You're so beautiful when you're like this," Heeseung murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Or his hands braced on each of Jake's thighs, voice low and teasing as Jake protested weakly, Heeseung's fingers traced delicate patterns on Jake's skin, leaving trails of electricity in their wake. Jake's breath hitched, his body arching slightly to meet the touch, a silent plea for more. "You have to keep quiet, pretty," Heeseung whispered, his breath hot against Jake's ear. "Or do you want everyone to hear how good you take my cock?"

More often than not Jake was pulling on Heeseung's strands, Heeseung was on top of him, his body pressing firmly against Jake's, the weight both comforting and overwhelming. Jake's hands found their way to Heeseung's nape where he kept his hair short, nails digging into the flesh, urging him closer. "Hyung, hyung, hyung," Jake gasped, his voice a mix of desperation and need. "Please let me cum."

Stuffing his tie into Jake's mouth, Heeseung, ever the tease, stuffed his tie into Jake's mouth, silencing his protests. Jake's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and desire, his hands reaching out to pull Heeseung closer, their bodies moving in sync. "Shh, pretty," Heeseung soothed, his voice a low rumble. "I've got you."

Biting on his lips hard enough to draw blood, Jake's body tensed, his grip on the table tightening as Heeseung's movements became more intense. He bit down on his own lip, the sharp pain a contrast to the pleasure coursing through him, a muffled moan escaping his lips. "Hyung, please," Jake begged, his voice strained. "I can't hold on much longer."

Even with the busy days at work and raising a baby, Jake had noticed the same nagging queasiness and fatigue that had begun weeks ago. After a call with his mom, she’d asked pointedly, “Jake… have you thought… what if you’re pregnant again?”

Jake had frozen. “Pregnant? Mom… I didn’t think about that. We kind of… gave up on hoping for another baby,” he admitted.

“Then go buy a test,” she urged. “Just to be sure. You’ll feel better knowing for certain.”

Panic had set in immediately. Jake paced the aisles of the store, clutching his shopping basket and muttering to himself, nearly dropping the test multiple times. “Oh god, oh god… okay… just the test… just breathe… how am I supposed to… what if…” At the checkout, he held the box like it was made of glass, his heart racing, hands trembling. By the time he got home to the mansion, he was a bundle of nerves.

Later that afternoon, he was in the playroom with Heeseung and Sarang, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Heeseung was reading from a picture book, his voice calm and expressive, and Sarang was crouched beside them, babbling and gesturing, mimicking his every word as best she could. Jake couldn’t help but smile at how seriously she “followed along,” pointing at the illustrations with her tiny fingers and repeating some of the words in her baby voice.

Then, the memory of the test flashed in his mind, and his stomach clenched. “I… I’ll be right back,” he murmured, voice tight, excusing himself and heading to the bathroom.

Inside, he unpacked the test like it was some sacred object, reading the directions over and over, muttering them aloud under his breath. “Wait… okay, step one… step two… I’ve got this… no, maybe I should read it again…” He paced a little, heart hammering, trying to keep steady. Every tick of the clock made the minutes stretch unbearably long, each second loaded with anticipation and fear. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he saw the answer, and his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

Taking a deep breath, he returned to the playroom. Sarang and Heeseung had moved on to building blocks, stacking and balancing them carefully. Sarang, noticing him, hurried over and dropped a block into his hands. “Play, Mommy! Play too!” she said, eyes sparkling, clearly wanting him to join in.

Heeseung’s eyes flicked up immediately, scanning Jake’s face. The subtle tension in his posture, the way he lingered without sitting, the color in his cheeks, it was enough.

“Jake… you okay?” Heeseung asked, voice gentle, laced with concern.

Jake swallowed, gripping the box like it could somehow anchor him. “Uh… yeah. Just… didn’t sleep well.”

Heeseung didn’t miss the quiver in his voice, the tightness in his shoulders. “Come here,” he said softly, patting the floor beside him. Sarang plopped down beside Jake and reached for the picture book, her tiny hands brushing his as if she sensed the tension.

Jake inhaled, heart pounding, and knelt beside Heeseung and Sarang. “I… I think I need to tell you something,” he whispered, barely louder than the shuffling of pages.

Jake absentmindedly twirled the block in his hand, his mind elsewhere, before finally looking up at Heeseung.

“I… I’m pregnant,” he said softly, almost disbelieving himself.

Shock flickered across Heeseung’s face for a heartbeat, before it exploded into a huge, uncontainable smile. He cupped Jake’s face gently, pressing a kiss to his lips, then pulled back slightly, noticing tears glistening in Jake’s eyes. “Why are you crying, pretty?” he asked softly.

“Because… I didn’t think we’d… we could have another… I, I had lost hope,” Jake admitted, voice breaking.

“Oh, pretty… my pretty Jayunnie baby,” Heeseung murmured, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m so happy,” he whispered, holding him close as Jake cried into his shirt, relief and joy mingling in the quiet of the playroom.

Sarang, refusing to be left out, pushed herself between them with a squeal. “Me too! Me too!” she insisted, wrapping her little arms around both of them. Jake laughed through his tears, holding his daughter and his husband, letting the warmth of his family wash over him.

In that moment, sunlight spilling through the mansion windows, Jake and Heeseung let themselves feel it, the shock, the joy, and the miracle of their family growing once more.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Morning settled into the kitchen the way it always did, slowly at first, then all at once. The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the cluttered table where breakfast dishes and schoolbooks were scattered. The aroma of coffee mingled with the sweet scent of fresh bread, creating a comforting atmosphere that enveloped everyone.

Sarang was already halfway through her smoothie, her fingers dancing over her phone screen as she scrolled through social media. She half-listened to Yuna, who was animatedly discussing a book presentation she was excited about, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Minseo, ever the calm and collected one, quietly corrected Yuna's facts, his voice barely above a whisper. The twins were engaged in a private conversation only they understood, their laughter echoing softly as they shared an inside joke. Jake stood at the counter, pouring milk into his coffee with meticulous care, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each drop mattered.

Heeseung leaned against the counter, his presence a comforting shadow. "At this rate," he murmured, his eyes following Jake's careful movements, "the coffee’s going to cool before you finish." Jake, focused on his task, didn't look up. "If you distract me and I spill this," he said quietly, "you’re explaining to Sarang why her school project smells like coffee." "Care to help instead of narrating my failure?" Heeseung chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and reached out to steady the milk carton with two fingers before sliding it away. "See? Problem solved."

His thumb brushed lightly against Jake’s wrist, a subtle touch that spoke volumes. Jake’s shoulders relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips. Yuna, noticing the exchange, called out, "Mom, are you done with the milk? I need it." Jake nudged the carton toward her. "Here, Bee. Don’t drown your cereal." Sarang snorted, still engrossed in her phone. "She always does." "I do not," Yuna shot back immediately. "You absolutely do," Minseo added calmly, his voice the voice of reason.

Heeseung leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur. "That’s better. I like you focused. Very responsible. Very caffeinated." Jake finally looked at him, his eyes warm with affection. "You’re lucky you’re cute." "That’s what I’ve been telling you for years yet you don’t listen." Heeseung pressed a quick kiss to Jake’s temple, a tender gesture that spoke of years of love and understanding. As the twins started arguing over whose toast was whose, Jake sighed softly, already moving to mediate, but not before Heeseung caught his hand again, just briefly, a grounding squeeze.

Across the room, the kids continued their morning routine, a symphony of half chaos and half comfort. Sarang reminded the twins about their backpacks. Minseo asked if anyone had seen his notebook. Yuna narrated her entire morning routine out loud, her voice a soothing background noise. It was loud without being overwhelming, full without being messy, the kind of noise that came from a house that had learned how to live together.

Jake glanced at Heeseung again, catching him watching the kids with that familiar expression, soft, proud, a little amazed, even after all these years. "What?" Jake asked quietly. Heeseung shook his head, a soft smile on his face. "Nothing. Just thinking we did okay." Jake huffed, amused. "Okay? Look at them." "That’s exactly why."

Their eyes met, just for a second longer than necessary. A shared understanding passed between them, years of early mornings, late nights, compromises, laughter, and love settling quietly in the space between breaths. Then Soeun called out, "Daddy! He stole my toast!" And just like that, the moment dissolved into motion again. But the warmth lingered, a gentle reminder of the love and life that filled their home.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Sarang and Yuna wandered together through the garden, small hands brushing against petals, plucking the brightest blooms with gentle care. Heeseung walked beside them, crouching occasionally to show them how to hold the stems without crushing the flowers, pointing out colors and shapes, letting the girls examine each bloom closely. “See how this one leans toward the sun? That’s how flowers know to grow strong,” he whispered, laughing when Yuna wobbled slightly and grabbed her sister’s hand for balance.

From the kitchen, Jake emerged carrying a tray of drinks, Layla padding along loyally at his side. In the garden, a staff member stood with a basket already half-filled with the girls’ picks, giving them gentle encouragement from a short distance.

Jake paused at the edge of the garden, taking in the sight, Sarang and Yuna bent over the flowers, Heeseung guiding them patiently, the sunlight catching in the girls’ hair. His chest tightened with warmth, and he couldn’t resist moving closer.

Heeseung’s voice cut through softly, just loud enough for Jake to hear: “And here comes the prettiest flower of all.”

Jake smiled instantly, spotting his girls turning toward him. Sarang’s little legs carried her quickly, and she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs. Jake bent down, scooping her up and pressing soft kisses to her head. “There’s my Sari,” he murmured, the affection spilling naturally from him.

Yuna toddled closer, giggling, Heeseung at her side with a wide smile. Jake crouched slightly to cup Yuna in his hands, pulling her close. “Hi, Yunie Bee,” he said warmly, planting a loud, playful kiss on her cheek.

Sarang’s arms tightened around him. “Me too, Mommy!” she protested with a grin.

Jake laughed, lifting her slightly higher. “Okay, if you insist, lovey,” he said, peppering kisses across her face until she giggled uncontrollably.

Heeseung, pretending to pout, stepped closer. “Hey, what about me?” he said, feigning offense.

Jake rolled his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, leaning in to capture Heeseung’s lips in a warm, lingering kiss. Heeseung melted against him, smiling into the kiss as the girls continued their giggles and the sun warmed the scene around them.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The car hums steadily beneath them, the low vibration of the road a familiar, comforting presence. Heeseung drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console, where Jake’s hand is already waiting. Their fingers lace together easily, instinctive, unthinking. The warmth of their touch is a silent conversation, a reassurance that they are in this together, navigating the winding road of life side by side.

They don’t look at each other when it happens. They never need to. Their connection is a silent understanding, a dance of familiarity that needs no words. The car is their sanctuary, a mobile haven where the world outside fades into a blur of passing trees and distant hills.

In the backseat, the kids fill the space with overlapping sound, a symphony of youthful energy and curiosity. Sarang sits angled toward the window, phone in hand, one earbud dangling loose as she half-listens, half-scrolls. Her fingers dance over the screen, lost in the digital world, yet still very much a part of the chaos around her. Minseo is leaned forward between the seats, already mid-story, animated despite himself. His voice is a mix of exasperation and excitement, each word painting a vivid picture of his day.

“And then he told the teacher it was my fault,” Minseo says, clearly still offended. “But I wasn’t even the one who knocked it over. I was just standing there.”

“You were standing too close,” Yuna fires back immediately, twisting in her seat to face him. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, a playful glint that says she’s enjoying this exchange. “You always stand too close, Min.”

“I do not,” he protests, his voice rising slightly.

“You do,” she insists, looking to the twins for confirmation. “Right, Soso?”

Soeun nods eagerly, her curls bouncing with the motion. Haneul shrugs, thumbs hooked into his hoodie sleeves, a picture of casual indifference.

Heeseung chuckles softly. “Alright, Bean, start from the beginning.”

Minseo sighs, collecting himself. “Okay. So we’re in science, and someone bumps the table, ”

“You bumped the table,” Yuna interrupts, her grin widening.

“Bee,” Heeseung warns gently, though his smile gives him away. There’s a warmth in his voice, a fondness that speaks volumes about the love he has for his children.

Yuna grins. “Sorry. Go on.”

Heeseung smiles softly, eyes still on the road. “Bean,” he says gently, voice calm and grounding, “did the teacher listen to you at least?”

Minseo sighs. “She said we were both responsible.”

Jake winces in sympathy. “Ouch. That’s rough, buddy.”

Sarang finally looks up from her phone. “That’s what happens when you’re tall for no reason, Min,” she says blandly, clearly enjoying herself. Her tone is dry, but there’s a hint of affection behind her words.

Minseo groans. “I am not tall for no reason!”

Jake squeezes Heeseung’s hand once, a quiet, affectionate gesture. Heeseung responds without thinking, thumb brushing slowly over Jake’s knuckles, a small, familiar check-in that says I’m here. It’s a language of its own, a silent conversation that speaks louder than any words ever could.

Yuna suddenly leans forward between the seats. “Mommy,” she says, bright and hopeful, “Grandma said she made that soup I like. The dumpling one.”

Heeseung chuckles. “I know, Bee. You told us.”

“Twice,” Jake adds mildly, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror. “Didn’t you, Yunie?”

“Three times,” Sarang mutters, slipping her earbud back in. Her voice is muffled, but the amusement is clear.

Jake laughs under his breath. “Lovey, don’t pretend you’re not excited.”

At a red light, Heeseung finally glances over. Just for a second. Jake’s already looking at him, eyes soft, full of the kind of affection that only comes from years of shared mornings, shared exhaustion, shared joy. It’s a look that says everything and nothing at all, a silent promise of a lifetime of moments just like this one.

Heeseung lifts their joined hands and presses a quick kiss to Jake’s knuckles before the light turns green again. Nothing big. Nothing showy. Just love, steady, practiced, and deeply rooted, moving forward with them as the car carries their loud, messy, beautiful family toward another weekly dinner, another crowded table, another ordinary moment that somehow still feels like everything. The car, their family, their love, all moving forward, one mile at a time, creating a tapestry of memories that will last a lifetime.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It happens on an ordinary afternoon, which somehow makes it better.

Sarang is five, old enough to be loudly independent, old enough to narrate her every move like the house is her stage. She’s sprawled on the living room floor with her markers, humming to herself as she colors the same heart over and over again, tongue poking out in concentration. Every few minutes she looks up just to say, “Mommy, look,” even when it’s the same picture she showed him thirty seconds ago.

Jake smiles from the doorway, one hand braced against it. “It’s beautiful, lovey. You’re doing such a good job.”

Yuna, barely two and a half, toddles between them with her stuffed bunny dragging along the floor like a loyal companion. She babbles to no one in particular, plops down beside Sarang, and immediately tries to sit on the coloring book. The staff member laughs softly, redirecting her with blocks instead.

Jake watches them, warmth blooming in his chest, and then twisting into something tighter. His palm drifts to his stomach without permission.

The test is already hidden. Two of them, actually. Buried beneath folded sweaters in the walk-in closet, tucked inside a small box he’s had for weeks now. Long enough to let the truth settle. Long enough to plan. They hadn’t been trying. Not really. After Yuna, after the exhaustion and the quiet acceptance that maybe their family was complete, they’d stopped hoping.

Sarang suddenly pops to her feet. “I wanna go outside!”

Heeseung’s voice carries from the hallway. “Shoes on before you go outside, Sari.”

“I know,” she replies immediately, dramatic as ever.

Heeseung appears a moment later, scooping Yuna up easily when she wobbles too close to the coffee table. “Careful, Bee,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her hair. He glances at Jake, eyes soft. “You okay?”

Jake nods. “Yeah. Just, tired.”

Heeseung hums, unconvinced but gentle. “I’ll take them out back. You can rest for a bit.”

Sarang cheers. The staff member gathers a basket, already steering the girls toward the garden.

Ten minutes later, the house feels quieter in that rare, suspended way.

Jake retreats to their bedroom, heart thudding as he opens the walk-in closet. He pulls the small box from its hiding place, fingers brushing over the lid. Inside is something simple. Intentional. Something Heeseung won’t understand at first.

He’s turning it over in his hands when Heeseung’s voice drifts down the hallway.
“Jake?”

“In here,” he calls, voice steady despite everything inside him trembling.

Heeseung steps into the room. “I left them with the staff, they’re probably picking flowers outside. I’m guessing they’ll need quite the bath tonight.”

He stops short.

Jake’s standing near the closet, box in hand.

Heeseung blinks. “What’s that?” A pause. A grin. “It’s not my birthday. Or our anniversary.”

Jake smiles, soft, fond, already emotional. “Just… come here.”

Suspicion flickers, but Heeseung steps closer anyway. He lifts the lid.

First, he sees the tiny socks folded neatly on top. His breath catches. Then he lifts them aside. There are sonogram pictures from when Jake was pregnant with Sarang and finally, tucked underneath, a small onesie embroidered with the words: “Already have the best two older sisters.”

Heeseung’s eyes widen. He looks at Jake, a stunned silence hanging between them.

Jake swallows, heart hammering. “We’re… having another baby.”

Shock flashes across Heeseung’s face before it melts into a huge, radiant smile. He cups Jake’s face, pressing a long, joyful kiss to his lips. Pulling back, he grins, eyes sparkling. “Really? Really? That’s… amazing!”

Jake laughs, barely able to contain himself. “I know! I didn’t think we’d get another one… but wow, can you imagine? Another little one running around this house?”

“Oh, pretty,” Heeseung murmurs, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’m thrilled. I’m so excited.”

Jake hugs him back just as tightly, spinning slightly in excitement. “I can’t believe it… another one, just… wow.”

They stay like that for a long moment, hearts racing, hands clasped, foreheads pressed together, letting the thrill of the news wash over them. The idea of growing their family, of welcoming someone new into the love they already shared, fills the room with a quiet, joyful electricity that neither of them has felt in years.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The living room was a swirl of laughter, shuffling cards, and playful bickering. Board games had become the family ritual of choice on Friday nights, and with seven of them now, the rules had morphed into something resembling organized chaos.

Soeun and Haneul were naturally teamed up, two bundles of five-year-old energy bouncing off each other with gleeful competitiveness. Sarang and Yuna were together as well, strategic, clever, and annoyingly coordinated, much to Heeseung’s silent heartbreak that Miss Heart hadn’t chosen him for her team.

That left Minseo paired with his parents. “Hey, that’s not fair!” Yuna exclaimed, pointing at the trio across the board. “Why do you get three on your team?”

Heeseung held up his hands in mock surrender, voice playful but calm. “Okay, okay, we’ll take turns. I’ll go first with your brother, then it’s your mom’s turn.” Heeseung grinned, already shifting into game mode with Minseo, and the kids reluctantly settled into the rotation, curiosity and competitiveness in equal measure.

The game began smoothly enough, everyone trying to navigate their turns amidst chatter and teasing. Laughter echoed as cards were drawn, tokens moved, and the twins squealed with excitement at each new play.

Then came the accusation.

“You’re cheating, daddy!” Yuna shrieked, hands on her hips, glaring at Heeseung.

“I am not!” Heeseung replied, mock offense in his tone. “You’re just upset we’re winning, little Bee.”

The room erupted. Cards flew, tiny protests collided with big laughter, and Minseo tried to mediate with little success. “I told you we’d be fair!” Heeseung called out, ducking a gentle toss of a game piece from Sarang.

Amidst the chaos, Heeseung leaned slightly toward Jake, voice low and dramatic. “Pretty… please tell me you saw I wasn’t cheating?”

Jake glanced up, sheepish, clearly caught mid-answer to Haneul’s barrage of questions. “I… really wasn’t paying attention,” he admitted, shrugging with an apologetic grin. “Haneul asked me something, I’m sorry.”

Heeseung huffed, trying not to laugh, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. “I’m doomed, aren’t I?”

Jake reached over and gently cupped Heeseung’s face, thumbs brushing lightly across his temples in a soothing, apologetic gesture. “You’re still the best, babe,” he murmured, voice soft but full of affection.

Heeseung huffed, feigning playful annoyance, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “Fine, fine… I agree with you,” he said, leaning into the touch just slightly, unable to resist.

The room was filled with the sound of laughter and the occasional exclamation as Heeseung became increasingly animated during the game. He leaned forward, gesturing wildly, and occasionally let out a triumphant “Ha!” that made the twins erupt with giggles. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and his movements were filled with a childlike enthusiasm that was infectious.

“Babe, calm down,” Jake finally said, his voice a mix of gentle scolding and amusement. “It’s just a game.”

Heeseung froze for a moment, his eyes flicking toward Jake, and his cheeks flushed a soft pink. Jake, sensing his partner's embarrassment, placed one hand on his back and the other over his chest, steadying and soothing him. The warmth of Jake’s touch was like a balm, calming the storm of excitement within Heeseung.

“I… I can’t help it,” Heeseung murmured, hanging his head, utterly defeated by the calm authority and warmth radiating from Jake. He slumped into Jake’s lap, hiding his flushed face against him, and the kids howled with laughter.

“Look at Dad! He’s hiding in your lap, Mom!” Minseo shouted, giggling.

Jake chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Heeseung’s temple. “Alright, fine. I’ll play in your place for now, hyung. You stay right here.”

Heeseung nodded, still flushed, watching the kids play from Jake’s lap. He rested his head against Jake’s thigh, murmuring little “good moves” and “nice try” under his breath. The warmth of Jake’s arms around him and the laughter of their children created a quiet bubble in the chaos, a moment of peace amidst the storm of competitive energy.

Sarang shot a sly glance at Heeseung, whispering to Yuna, “Dad’s completely whipped, isn’t he?”

Yuna giggled. “Totally”

Heeseung huffed, playfully glaring at the girls. “I can hear you you know, you know.”

Jake just kissed the top of his head, whispering, “Shh… let the kids have their fun. You’re winning at life already, babe.”

Heeseung couldn’t argue with that, settling deeper into Jake’s lap, a contented smile tugging at his lips as the game continued around them.

The kids were buzzing with energy, eager for the next game, so Jake told them to play charades. This time, everyone was on their own, taking turns acting and guessing, and the room hummed with anticipation. Heeseung had sprawled out on the floor, lying on his back with his legs stretched in front of him. Jake leaned against the couch, arms draped casually over Heeseung’s shoulders, and Heeseung’s head pressed into Jake’s chest. Layla was curled up between them, resting her head on Heeseung’s leg, breathing softly. Ollie and Benji, sensing the excitement, bounced around nearby, occasionally barking or nudging the kids for attention, adding a chaotic but loving layer to the room.

Sarang went first, miming something with exaggerated flourishes, and the kids shouted guesses. “A cat! No, a ballerina!”

“Close! But not quite,” she corrected with a grin, shrugging at their flurry of suggestions.

Next was Yuna, hands flailing comically as she tried to convey her word. Heeseung chuckled, murmuring into Jake’s chest, “Pretty, look at our little Bee go. She’s going to be a master actor someday.”

Jake pressed a kiss to the top of Heeseung’s head. “She already is,” he whispered back.

Then it was Minseo’s turn, and immediately the twins pounced. “No! That’s not it!” Haneul shrieked, stomping his feet. “You’re doing it all wrong!”
“I wasn’t! You just don’t get it!” Minseo shot back, glaring at his twin.
Soeun, hopping up and down, pointed dramatically. “Yeah! Totally wrong! You’re supposed to act like this!”

The voices escalated, overlapping into a full-blown argument. Ollie barked once, weaving between the children, while Benji’s little yips echoed as he darted around trying to “join in.” Heeseung and Jake exchanged a glance and waited, letting the kids see if they could resolve it themselves.

Sarang stepped in, hands on her hips. “Minseo, maybe if you just, ”
“Stop telling me what to do, Sari!” Minseo barked, arms crossed.
“Yunie, help me!” Sarang called to her sister, who rolled her eyes but joined in.
“Minseo, you have to show it like this!” Yuna said, demonstrating exaggerated movements.

Instantly, the argument intensified. “No! That’s not it!” Minseo yelled. “You’re ruining it!”
“Oh my gosh, you guys are hopeless,” Sarang groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “You’ll never get it!”
“Exactly! Let me show you!” Haneul added, stomping again, while Ollie and Benji weaved between their legs, nudging and bumping into the kids as if urging them to settle down.

The chaos spiraled, the board long forgotten, laughter mixed with protests and the occasional bark. Heeseung’s brow furrowed, and Jake let out a low sigh.

“Okay… okay, that’s enough,” Jake called firmly, raising a hand. “Everyone pause. Minseo, explain what you were doing. Haneul, Soeun, back off and listen. And no yelling!”

Heeseung pushed himself up slightly, resting a hand on Jake’s thigh for support, and added, “You don’t get to gang up on him like that. Everyone gets a turn, and we all listen.”

The kids groaned and muttered under their breath, while Ollie plopped onto Minseo’s feet and Benji flopped onto Haneul’s lap, somehow forcing a pause in the bickering. The combination of their parents’ calm authority, the playful presence of the dogs, and mild exasperation worked. Minseo restarted his charade, this time with less interruption and more careful observation from the others, and Layla thumped her tail contentedly against Heeseung as if approving the truce.

Jake chuckled, pressing a soothing hand over Heeseung’s chest. “I see now where the kids get it from?”

Heeseung flushed slightly, hiding his smile as he leaned back against Jake, feeling the warmth and comfort of him there, even amidst the chaos.

The round continued, tension easing as the kids played more cooperatively, though the occasional small bickering still erupted. Every so often, Jake and Heeseung had to mediate, gently scolding here and there, their calm guidance keeping the night from tipping back into full chaos. By the end, everyone was laughing, exhausted, and plotting strategies for the next game, the living room alive with love, competition, and the beautiful mess of family life.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The playroom was awash in soft afternoon light, toys scattered across the colorful rug. Baby Minseo cooed contentedly in his bouncer, arms flailing gently as Sarang and Yuna sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

“He’s so tiny,” Sarang whispered, leaning closer to get a better look at her little brother, her hands clasped in wonder. “Mommy… why is he a boy and not a girl?”

Yuna tilted her head, eyes wide, curiosity bubbling over. “Yeah… I thought babies were supposed to be like dolls or something. He doesn’t have bows or a dress.”

Jake, sitting behind them with a small stack of picture books, froze for a moment. He glanced at Minseo, then at the girls, and simply laughed, a warm, slightly helpless laugh that made the girls giggle in response.

“Well…” Jake started, shrugging and scratching the back of his neck, “I guess that’s just the way it works. Boys and girls are… different. But tiny Minseo here is perfect either way, don’t you think?”

Sarang and Yuna exchanged a glance, then broke into soft, conspiratorial smiles. “He’s really cute,” Sarang said, reaching out to gently touch Minseo’s tiny hand. Yuna nodded in agreement, leaning in to give a soft poke to his chubby cheek.

Jake watched them, heart swelling, as the girls’ fascination and love for their little brother unfolded in the simplest, sweetest way. He couldn’t answer every question, and he didn’t have to. Their curiosity, their wonder, it was enough, and the room was filled with laughter, soft coos, and tiny, careful touches, a small world of family forming around a tiny new life.

He was tidying up the playroom, picking up blocks and stuffed animals scattered across the floor, when Heeseung stepped in quietly, leaning against the doorway with a soft smile.

“How’s my pretty today?” Heeseung asked gently, his voice low and careful. It wasn’t about the playroom mess, it was about Jake, about the long nights and early mornings, about the postpartum days that had been a little harder this pregnancy.

Jake exhaled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “I’m… okay,” he said, voice quiet, “better than yesterday, at least.”

Heeseung moved closer, reaching for Jake’s hand. “You’re doing so well, pretty. Minseo’s lucky to have you. We’re all lucky to have you,” he presses a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

For a moment, the room was still, the soft afternoon light painting the walls with warmth. Then a tiny giggle broke the calm.

Sarang and Yuna were crouched near Minseo’s bouncer, whispering conspiratorially to each other. Before the parents could process what was happening, they were tugging at blankets and tiny outfits, attempting to dress their baby brother like a little doll.

Jake and Heeseung exchanged a glance, a mixture of amusement and disbelief, before bursting into quiet laughter.

“Well,” Jake murmured, crouching down beside them, “looks like Minseo’s got two personal stylists today.”

Heeseung chuckled, kneeling next to Jake. “He’s going to be the most fashionable baby on the block.”

But their laughter faded quickly when one of the girls tugged a sleeve too hard, and Minseo let out a startled cry. Jake scooped him up immediately, cradling him to his chest, while Heeseung gently took Sarang’s hand and knelt beside Yuna.

“It’s okay, baby,” Jake soothed, pressing a soft kiss to Minseo’s temple. “We’re right here.”

Sarang and Yuna’s faces scrunched with guilt, tears welling in their eyes. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt him!” Sarang sobbed, Yuna echoing her, “It was an accident! We just wanted to play!”

Heeseung smiled warmly, brushing Yuna’s hair back. “We know, sweethearts. Accidents happen. You just need to be gentle, Minseo isn’t a doll yet.”

Sarang sniffled, looking between her parents. “But we want to play with him…”

Jake nodded, holding Minseo close. “I know, lovey. And you will, soon. But for now, he’s still little and fragile. We have to wait a little longer.”

Heeseung leaned in, ruffling Sarang’s hair. “How about this? While mommy feeds Minseo, I can play with the two of you. You can choose the game.”

The girls’ eyes lit up instantly. “Really?” Yuna squealed. “Yes!”

Jake settled, cradling Minseo against him as he nursed, the baby’s little hands curling around his fingers. A quiet smile tugging at his lips, as Heeseung knelt on the floor with Sarang and Yuna, now fully committed to their princess tea party. The girls had crowned him with a slightly crooked plastic tiara, stacked rings on his fingers, and insisted he use a dainty teacup for imaginary tea.

“Oooh, Your Highness, would you like some royal tea?” Sarang asked dramatically, holding out an empty plastic cup.

“Of course, princess heart,” Heeseung replied, bowing theatrically and sipping air from the cup, earning a chorus of giggles from the girls.

At that moment, Ollie, ever curious and eager to be part of the action, trotted over, tail wagging like a tiny flag. He nudged Heeseung’s hand with his nose, clearly requesting a taste of the royal tea.

“Not for you, silly puppy,” Yuna said, laughing. “This is grown-up tea for grown-up princesses!”

Ollie, unconcerned, plopped down beside Heeseung and rested his head on his knee, which only made Sarang squeal. “Look! Even the royal dog wants tea!”

Heeseung, chuckling, rubbed Ollie behind the ears. “You are quite the noble companion, aren’t you, Sir Ollie?”

Meanwhile, Jake sat nearby, cradling Minseo against him, who was now nursing peacefully. Minseo’s tiny fingers curled around Jake’s sweater as the girls continued to giggle and plot elaborate tea ceremonies. Occasionally, Ollie would paw at a ring or sniff the tiara, earning squeals of delight as the girls scolded him gently.

“Stop! He’s stealing my crown!” Yuna protested, tugging the tiara slightly back from Ollie’s nose.

“Don’t worry, princess bee,” Heeseung said, using the nickname Yuna adored, “every noble prince or princess needs a loyal guard.” He ruffled Ollie’s fur, and the dog wagged enthusiastically, earning another laugh from the girls.

Even Sarang, who had been a bit more serious, melted seeing Ollie curl up beside Heeseung. “This is the best tea party ever!” she declared.

Jake glanced down at Minseo, feeling the warmth of the room wrap around them all, the giggles, the playful chaos, and the soft, rhythmic thump of Ollie’s tail against the floor. He pressed a gentle kiss to Minseo’s temple. “Looks like you’ve got two princesses, a king, and a knight keeping you company,” he murmured.

Heeseung leaning towards Jake, and whispered with mock solemnity, “Your Highness, the realm is safe for tea, thanks to Sir Ollie and the princesses.”

The girls erupted into laughter, and Jake felt his chest tighten with warmth. Even amidst the mess, the tiara tilting, the rings scattered, and Ollie trying to steal imaginary sips, it was perfect, a chaotic, hilarious, tender kind of perfect that only family could make.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jake's fingernails dug into Heeseung's bare back, feeling the smooth, warm skin beneath his touch. Heeseung arched slightly, a soft moan escaping his lips as Jake's hand wandered lower, cupping his husband’s ass. Their bodies were still entwined, the remnants of their passionate encounter lingering in the air.

Heeseung rolled over onto his back, pulling Jake with him on top, his eyes met Jake's with a mix of satisfaction and playful mischief. "You're insatiable," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Jake grinned, leaning in to capture Heeseung's lips in a deep, lingering kiss. "And you're irresistible," he replied, his hand now exploring the curve of Heeseung's hip.

Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them building once more. Jake's mouth trailed down Heeseung's neck, tasting the salty sweat that glistened on his skin. Heeseung's breath hitched as Jake's teeth grazed his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine.

Heeseung's hands roamed Jake's back, pulling him closer, wanting more. Their movements were synchronized, a dance of desire and need. Jake's hips rolled against Heeseung's, eliciting a groan from deep within his throat.

Jake's hands roamed over Heeseung's body, claiming every inch of him. He leaned down, his teeth grazing his earlobe. "Stay still," he commanded softly, his voice a low growl. Heeseung complied, his breath coming in short, eager gasps.

Jake's hips rolled against Heeseung's, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of them. Heeseung's hands gripped his hips, knuckles white as he tried to maintain control. Jake's movements were deliberate, each roll calculated to drive Heeseung wild.

Heeseung's moans filled the room, a symphony of desire and submission. Jake's dominant nature was on full display, his every action a claim of ownership. He leaned down, capturing Heeseung's lips in a fierce kiss, swallowing his moans.

As they reached the peak of their pleasure, their bodies tensed and released in unison, waves of ecstasy washing over them.

Jake's chest still rose and fell in slow, steady rhythm as he lay back, catching his breath, the sheets rumpled around them. Heeseung was sprawled beside him, eyes half-lidded and messy hair sticking up, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Their laughter from moments ago still lingered between them, quiet and warm.

Then a small, tentative whisper cut through the calm.

“Daddy?”

Jake’s brow furrowed. He glanced at Heeseung, whose expression had gone from dreamy to oh shit, I forgot in half a second.

“Hyung… what’s going on?” Jake asked, sitting up, voice groggy.

Heeseung pressed a finger to his lips, eyes darting toward the door. “Hold on just a moment,” he muttered. He swung his legs off the bed, pulled a robe on, and cracked their bedroom door open.

From the hall, Jake caught fragments of voices, muffled but unmistakable:

“Help, breakfast, birthday, surprise…”

The whispers were punctuated by clumsy thumps, stifled giggles, and the occasional “shh!” The kids were trying to be quiet, but it was painfully clear they were failing spectacularly.

“Yes, go down, Sari, you’re in charge. I’ll be right down,” Heeseung instructed, his voice low but firm, and the shuffle of little feet scuttling away made it obvious the plan was already in motion.

Heeseung closed the door and turned back toward Jake, who was now perched on the bed, confusion written across his face.

“Okay… what’s going on?” Jake asked, half amused, half exasperated.

Heeseung shook his head, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I… completely forgot the kids wanted to surprise you with breakfast for your birthday. So… I need to go down and help them,” he said, slipping into his pajamas while speaking.

Jake blinked, letting the news settle in. “O-okay…”

“Just… go back to sleep, or watch some TV. Maybe come down in an hour and act surprised for their sake, please,” Heeseung added, kneeling on the bed to press a quick, warm kiss to Jake’s lips before rising.

Jake chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. What if my life wasn’t already this ridiculous? he thought, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a grin.

Heeseung lingered for a moment at the door, giving one last teasing look before slipping away, leaving Jake alone with the soft echoes of their children’s chaotic whispers and the undeniable warmth of the morning.

Thirty minutes had passed since Jake had texted Heeseung: “Am I allowed down yet?” , and received nothing in reply. He stared at his phone again, sighing. He tried to go back to sleep, but the bed was too warm, too rumpled, too full of quiet reminders of what they’d just… shared. No luck.

With a groan, he swung his legs off the bed and headed for the shower. Warm water helped, but didn’t erase the anticipatory flutter in his chest. Once out, he changed the sheets, making the bed look orderly, if not exactly pristine, before sliding back into pajamas.

He flipped on the TV quietly, volume low, catching a few muted shows while ensuring he wasn’t alerting the kids to his early wakefulness. His attention drifted, he organized his and Heeseung’s walk-in closet, rearranging shoes and folded clothes with almost military precision.

Then came emails. Work notifications. Texts. A little too early to tackle the big projects, but Jake found himself slowly ticking through his messages, catching up on things he had been putting off. He even tried to read a book he’d left on the nightstand, but after a chapter, his mind wandered; the words blurred, and he gave up, setting it aside with a faint groan of boredom.

Just as he settled back on the bed, phone buzzing against the sheets, a new message from Heeseung appeared: “Come down now. They’re almost ready. Make some noise so they hear you.”

Jake stared at it for a moment, blinking. “Better said than done,” he muttered under his breath, the grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth. He could practically hear the giggles and whispering coming from the hall, the kids trying desperately to keep their chaos quiet but failing spectacularly, and the thought of sneaking down into their little breakfast surprise made him laugh quietly.

Jake closed the bedroom door behind him with a deliberately loud thud, yawning exaggeratedly as he stretched. Frantic whispers, hurried shuffling, and the unmistakable sounds of little feet racing to their positions. Even the twins, Soeun and Haneul, were squeaking and bumping into each other in their excitement. Sarang’s sharp whisper could be heard over the chaos, “Guys, I hear him! Be quiet! Mommy’s coming!”

Jake grinned, leaning just slightly against the doorframe as he heard the uneven scuttling. Yuna, crouched behind a chair, peeked out with wide eyes and a finger pressed to her lips, while Minseo tried to stand perfectly still, though his sneakers squeaked with every tiny movement.

Slowly, he pushed open the door to the kitchen… and the kids erupted.

“Happy birthday, Mommy!” they shouted in unison, their excitement spilling over despite their earlier attempts at secrecy.

Sarang’s eyes shone with pride as she held a small plate with a carefully stacked pancake tower. Yuna bounced on her toes, clutching a cup of juice like it was a treasure. Minseo had arranged fruit slices into an almost-acceptable heart shape, and the twins were each waving tiny spoons with glee, clearly expecting to taste everything themselves before Jake did.

Jake laughed loudly, rubbing his face as he took in the scene. “You guys! You scared the heck out of me! But… wow. Look at this chaos, perfect birthday breakfast.”

Heeseung appeared behind him in his pajamas, smiling as he leaned on the counter. “I left them to do it mostly on their own,” he said quietly, watching Jake beam at their children. “Though I tried to mediate before someone tried eating raw pancake batter.” He looks over at the twins.

Jake turns, reaching for Heeseung’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “I think they did better than I could’ve imagined. Look at all this, I’m so proud of your work.”

The kids beamed, practically vibrating with excitement as they proceeded to all hug their mom at once in a giant group hug as he squeezed and tried giving them all kisses.

Heeseung leaned in close to Jake, murmuring, “Happy birthday, pretty. I think they’ve outdone themselves this year.”

Jake tilted his head, brushing a quick kiss across Heeseung’s lips before turning back to the chaos of their children. “They may have competition now,” he whispered, eyes twinkling as the kids buzzed around, “but you’re still my favorite birthday gift.”

Sarang was the first to make her move. “Mommy, sit here!” she commanded, patting the chair in front of the table, her eyes bright and proud. Before Jake could react, Yuna had slipped a tiny, glittery paper crown onto his head.

“You’re the queen for the day!” Yuna announced, bouncing on her toes.

Jake laughed, letting the crown slide slightly crooked on his head. “Well, I suppose a queen must be served breakfast,” he said, raising his arms in mock regality.

Heeseung, smirking, reached over and gently tugged Jake down into his lap at the table, arms wrapping around him. “Careful, pretty. You might spill royal decrees if you let the power get to your head,” he teased, lifting a small fork of pancake toward Jake’s mouth.

The kids eagerly crowded around Jake, each with something special in hand. Sarang, with Heeseung’s quiet guidance and a little bit of money he’d slipped her for a proper gift, had picked out a delicate necklace she knew her mom would love, and carefully paired it with a handmade card glittered with her own designs. “For you, Mommy. I picked it out myself, and made the card too!” she said, beaming.

Yuna, inspired by her own creativity and a small boost from Jake’s help, had painted a bright, exuberant portrait of their family, full of color and movement. “It’s us! And you!” she exclaimed, pressing it into Jake’s hands, her smile wide and proud.

Minseo shuffled over with a neatly wrapped box, cheeks pink with both excitement and shyness. Inside was a little keepsake he’d chosen after some quiet advice from Heeseung, something simple but meaningful, and he had topped it with a tiny, crayon-decorated card. “I… I picked it for you too. And made this!” he said softly, holding the card out with both hands.

The twins, Haneul and Soeun, were chaos incarnate, each with their own colorful creations. Haneul jabbered excitedly, holding up a scribbled card that read, “Mommy is the best!” while Soeun bounced beside him, waving a little rainbow painting she’d made herself. “I made this for you, Mommy!” she squealed, eyes sparkling.

Layla, the calmest of the dogs, settled at Heeseung’s feet, resting her head against his leg and sighing contentedly. Ollie, curious as ever, poked his nose toward the gifts, sniffing each one and tail wagging with approval. Benji, the twins’ constant shadow, bounced around, occasionally stepping on chairs in his excitement, trying to get a closer sniff or lick of Jake’s cheek.

Amid the clamor, a staff member appeared, quietly placing a fresh cup of coffee in front of Jake. “Happy Birthday, sir,” they said with a small smile. Jake looked up at the gesture, grateful, and murmured a soft, “Thank you. This is perfect. I feel so spoiled”

Heeseung chuckled, brushing a soft kiss along Jake’s temple. “You deserve it, pretty. Every bit of it.”

Jake leaned forward slightly as Heeseung offered him bites of pancakes, pretending to “feed the queen.” Each bite was punctuated by giggles from the children and playful commentary from Heeseung. Sarang tapped the crown back onto Jake’s head with mock authority, Yuna pointed out a smudge of syrup on the side of Jake’s mouth that was obviously planted there by Heeseung by the grin on his face. Even Minseo and the twins crowded in to see if they could sneak tastes themselves.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The grandparents arrived promptly, their car pulling up to the curb with a gentle hum. Jake and Heeseung stood at the door, their arms wrapped around each other, a rare moment of domesticity amidst their chaotic lives. The kids, already bundled up and eager, bounded out to greet their grandparents, their voices filled with excitement.

"Grandma, Grandpa!" they chirped, their little hands reaching out for hugs.

Jake's mom, a warm smile on her face, leaned in to give Jake a quick peck on the cheek. "You two enjoy your alone time," she whispered, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She glanced at Heeseung, who was practically glued to Jake's side, and chuckled. "Looks like someone's going to have a very busy weekend."

Heeseung blushed slightly but didn't let go of Jake. "Thanks, Mom," Jake replied, his voice soft. "We'll see you Sunday."

With a final wave, the grandparents herded the kids into the car, their laughter and chatter fading as they pulled away. Jake and Heeseung stood in the doorway, watching until the car disappeared around the corner. As soon as the door closed, Heeseung turned to Jake, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and possessiveness.

"Finally alone," Heeseung murmured, pulling Jake into a deep, hungry kiss. His hands roamed over Jake's body, claiming every inch of him. Jake melted into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to Heeseung's touch.

Heeseung lifted Jake effortlessly, pressing him against the wall. Jake's legs wrapped around Heeseung's waist, his arms snaking around Heeseung's neck. Their tongues danced together, a fierce and passionate duel. Heeseung's hands found their way under Jake's shirt, exploring the smooth skin of his back. As they made their way to the living room, their clothes fell to the floor in a trail of desire.

"Mmm, hyung," Jake moaned into the kiss, his body arching against Heeseung's. "I need you."

Heeseung growled low in his throat, his hips rolling against Jake's. "You have me, pretty. Always." As they fell to the floor on the rug, Jake pushed Heeseung down and straddled him, his hands roaming over Heeseung's chest. He leaned down, his tongue tracing a path down Heeseung's abs, his fingers teasing the waistband of Heeseung's pants.

"Fuck, Jake," Heeseung groaned, his hips bucking up. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Jake grinned wickedly, his eyes meeting Heeseung's. "I know," he purred, his voice low and sultry. He slowly unbuttoned Heeseung's pants, his fingers brushing against the growing bulge. He pulled out Heeseung's cock, his thumb circling the tip, spreading the pre-cum. He leaned down, his tongue flicking out to taste, his eyes never leaving Heeseung's.

"Mmm, you taste so good, hyung," Jake murmured, his voice husky with desire. He took Heeseung into his mouth, his head bobbing up and down, his tongue swirling around the shaft. The room filled with the filthy, wet slopping noises as Jake sucked and licked, his hand working in tandem with his mouth.

Heeseung's hands found their way to Jake's head, his fingers tangling in Jake's hair as he guided the rhythm. "Fuck, Jake," Heeseung grunted, his voice strained with desire. "Your mouth feels incredible."

Jake pulled back, a wicked grin on his face. "I'm just getting started, hyung," he said, his voice breathless. He reached back, his fingers playing with his own opening, teasing and preparing. Heeseung's eyes darkened with desire, his hips bucking up to meet Jake's mouth once more.

"Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful," Heeseung murmured, his voice low and husky.

Jake moaned around Heeseung's cock, the vibrations sending shivers down Heeseung's spine. He continued to suck and lick, his fingers working in and out of himself, preparing for what was to come. Heeseung reached back, his fingers joining Jake's, exploring and teasing.

They stumbled to the floor, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and desperate need. The rug beneath them provided little cushion, and Jake could feel the rough fibers digging into his knees and elbows, but he barely noticed, lost in the intensity of the moment. Heeseung took him hard and fast from behind, one hand gripping Jake's throat with just the right amount of pressure, his movements fierce and claiming, his hips rolling against Jake's with a primal rhythm.

"Fuck, baby," Heeseung grunted, his voice strained with desire. "You feel so good."

Jake's moans filled the room, a symphony of desire and need. "Hyung, yes! More, please," he begged, his body moving in perfect synchronization with Heeseung's.

As they finally separated, their bodies slick with sweat and breath coming in heaving gasps, Jake pushed himself up and made his way to the kitchen. Heeseung followed, his eyes never leaving Jake's form. Jake opened the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, when Heeseung crowded him from behind, his body pressing against Jake's back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Heeseung murmured, his voice a low growl. Jake turned in his arms, a playful smile on his face.

"Just getting a drink," Jake replied, his voice breathless.

Heeseung's eyes darkened with desire, and he reached past Jake, grabbing the whipped cream and chocolate syrup from the fridge. "I have a better idea," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"I love your ass, pretty," Heeseung murmured, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

Heeseung lifted Jake onto the counter, his hands roaming over Jake's body as he spread the whipped cream and chocolate in a messy trail down Jake's chest and stomach. Jake's breath hitched, his body already responding to the touch. Heeseung leaned down, his tongue tracing the path of the whipped cream, tasting and teasing.

"Mmm, you taste so good, baby," Heeseung murmured, his voice low and husky. His mouth found its way lower, his tongue exploring every inch of Jake's body. He parted Jake's legs, his strong hands gripping Jake's thighs as he settled between them. Heeseung's tongue flicked out, tracing the sensitive flesh of Jake's inner thighs, biting, teasing, and tantalizing. Jake's body shivered with anticipation, his hips lifting slightly, seeking more contact.

Heeseung's tongue finally found its target, swirling around Jake's clit with expert precision. Jake's moans filled the kitchen, a symphony of desire and need. Heeseung's fingers joined the dance, slipping inside Jake, curling and stroking with a rhythm that matched the movement of his tongue. Jake's body responded eagerly, his hips bucking against Heeseung's face, his hands gripping the counter for support.

"Oh fuck, hyung," Jake whimpered, his voice strained with pleasure. "That feels so good. Don't stop."

Heeseung's response was a low growl of satisfaction, his fingers and tongue working in perfect harmony, pushing Jake closer and closer to the edge. Jake's body tensed, his muscles coiling tight as waves of pleasure washed over him. He came with a cry, his body shuddering and convulsing, his release coating Heeseung's fingers and chin.

As Jake came down from his high, his body still trembling with aftershocks, gasping, Heeseung leaned back, a wicked grin on his face. He sucked his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving Jake's. "Mmm, you taste so fucking good, pretty," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Jake's smile was lazy and satisfied, his body still humming with pleasure. "Your turn, hyung," he said, his voice breathless. "I want to feel you inside me."

Jake pushed himself up and made his way to the stairs. Heeseung followed, his eyes never leaving Jake's form. They barely made it up the first few steps before Heeseung pulled Jake against his body, claiming Jake once more.

Jake sat on Heeseung's lap as he rode him, his body moving in perfect synchronization with Heeseung's. The stairs dug into Heeseung's back, but he barely noticed, lost in the intensity of the moment. Their movements were urgent and desperate, their bodies seeking release.

"Fuck, my omega fuck," Heeseung grunted, his voice strained with desire. "You're so fucking tight."

Jake's moans turned into whimpers, his body trembling with pleasure. "Alpha, fuck yes! I'm so close," he begged, his nails digging into Heeseung's back as Heeseung held onto Jake's ass.

Finally, they made it to the bedroom, their bodies still entwined. Jake sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and desire. Heeseung stood in the doorway, his body still tense with need. Jake beckoned him over with a seductive grin and a crook of his finger.

Heeseung approached, his eyes never leaving Jake's. "What do you want, my pretty omega?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Jake's smile grew wider, and he leaned back, his body inviting. "You know what I want, alpha," he replied, his voice filled with promise. "Come here and show me."

Heeseung moved to Jake, his hands roaming over Jake's body, claiming every inch of him. He lifted Jake effortlessly back onto the bed, folding Jake's legs back in half as he entered him roughly and fast. Jake's moans filled the room, a symphony of desire and need.

"Fuck, hyung," Jake grunted, his voice strained with desire. "God, your fucking dick."

Heeseung's body trembled with pleasure, his fingers digging into Jake's legs. He took hold of Jake's legs in one of his arms, using the other to attack Jake's clit with expert precision. Jake's head thrashed from side to side, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the sheets, tearing them from the bed. Each thrust from Heeseung hit Jake's spot with unerring accuracy, sending waves of intense pleasure coursing through his body.

"Y-yes, yes, please!" Jake begged, his voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy. "Don't stop, hyung. Please don't stop."

Heeseung's voice was a low, dominant growl. "You like that, my sweet little omega? You like it when I fuck your tight pussy?" He leaned down, his breath hot against Jake's ear. "You want my knot, don't you? You want me to fill you up and make you mine?"

Jake's response was a sob of need, tears rushing out of his eyes. "Yes, yes, yes! Please give it to me, hyung. I need it. I need you."

Their bodies moved in perfect synchronization, the room filled with the sounds of their desperate, urgent fucking. Jake's body tensed, his inner muscles clenching around Heeseung's cock as he neared the edge. Heeseung could feel it too, his own orgasm building, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Fuck, Jake," Heeseung grunted, his voice strained with the intensity of his impending release. "I'm going to cum. I'm going to fill you up."

Jake's body convulsed, his orgasm tearing through him with the force of a hurricane. He cried out, a raw, primal sound, as he came undone around Heeseung. Heeseung followed immediately after, his cock pulsing as he released his load deep inside Jake, his knot swelling and locking them together. In that moment, a blinding white light enveloped them, so intense that it seemed to sear their very souls. Jake's hearing went out, replaced by a high-pitched ringing that drowned out all other sounds, leaving him in a world of silence and pure sensation.

They lay there, their bodies entwined, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Jake's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm. Heeseung held him close, his arms wrapped tightly around Jake, his face buried in Jake's neck.

Jake's chest still rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm as he lay back, catching his breath, the sheets rumpled around them. Heeseung was sprawled on top of him, eyes half-lidded and messy hair sticking up, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Slowly, Jake's hearing began to return, the world coming back into focus with a rush of sound and sensation.

Jake and Heeseung lay on their backs, catching their breath, the room filled with the soft sounds of their heavy breathing. Jake turned his head to look at Heeseung, a casual smile playing on his lips.

"I'm pregnant again," Jake said, as if mentioning the weather.

Heeseung glanced over, a mix of amusement and surprise flickering across his face. "Again? Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jake nodded, still smiling. "Yep. Took a test last night."

Heeseung chuckled, reaching over to give Jake a quick, affectionate pat on the stomach. "You happy about it?"

Jake rolled his eyes playfully. "Of course I am. Are you?"

Heeseung grinned. "Of course. It's just... surprising. But in a good way."

There was a moment of comfortable silence before Heeseung casually asked, "You up for another round?"

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, but you’re doing all the work."

Heeseung laughed and turned onto his side. "Fair enough. Get on your side then."

Jake turned onto his side, and Heeseung lifted Jake's leg, reinserting himself with ease. Like a switch flicked on, they were back at it again, their bodies moving in sync, the intensity building once more.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The day started early, too early for a weekend, but excitement had dragged everyone out of bed before the sun had fully decided to show up.

Jake stood in the kitchen with a mug of coffee cradled in both hands, watching as the kids moved around in various states of barely-awake enthusiasm. Backpacks were abandoned in the middle of the floor, jackets half-zipped, sneakers kicked off and replaced again as someone inevitably realized they’d grabbed the wrong pair.

Heeseung moved through it all like second nature, checking tickets on his phone, counting heads out loud. “One, two, no, Haneul, you don’t count twice just because you’re spinning.”

“I do if I’m excited,” Haneul replied seriously.

Sarang leaned against the counter, hair pulled back, already fully dressed and scrolling through the park map. “If we don’t hit the rides early, the lines are going to be insane.”

Yuna peeked over her shoulder. “We’re starting with something everyone can ride, right?”

Jake smiled at that, setting his mug down. “That’s the plan. Family rides first. No splitting up.”

Minseo pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!”

The twins cheered, immediately running laps around the kitchen until Heeseung stopped them with an arm out. “Shoes. On. Now.”

The drive to the park was loud, music playing, kids arguing over who got to control the playlist, Jake laughing from the passenger seat as Heeseung reached over to squeeze his knee at a red light.

By the time they reached the gates, the air buzzed with that unmistakable theme-park energy, bright colors, distant music, the smell of sugar and popcorn drifting on the breeze.

The twins’ eyes went wide instantly.

“Whoa…” Soeun whispered.

Haneul grabbed Jake’s hand, tugging him forward. “Mom, look! Look at that one!”

Jake laughed, letting himself be pulled along while Heeseung followed close behind, one hand resting at the small of Jake’s back, steady and familiar.

They didn’t rush. That was the rule today.

They started with rides everyone could enjoy, gentle ones, bright ones, the kind where the twins could sit between their parents and squeal without fear. Minseo pressed himself against the safety bar like it was the most serious thing in the world, while Yuna and Sarang exchanged knowing looks every time the ride sped up even a little.

Jake laughed through all of it, head tipped back, the sound free and unguarded. Heeseung watched him more than the rides themselves, catching those moments, the way Jake’s eyes crinkled, the way he instinctively reached for one of the kids, the way joy sat so easily on him when they were all together.

By mid-morning, they were flushed and happy, arms full of souvenir cups and half-eaten snacks.

“Next ride!” Soeun declared, already bouncing on her toes.

Heeseung checked the map again, then glanced at Jake. “Teacups?”

Jake groaned softly. “You’re trying to kill me.”

The kids practically vibrated.

“Let’s all get in one!” Soeun announced, already climbing over the side of the nearest cup.

“Yeah, all of us!” Haneul echoed, scrambling in right after her.

Minseo followed, careful but excited, while Yuna hopped in next, laughing as Sarang rolled her eyes and climbed in last, squeezing herself between her siblings. The cup was… full. Overfull, really. Knees knocked, elbows bumped, and someone immediately complained.

“We’re squished,” Sarang said flatly.

“That’s the point,” Yuna replied, grinning.

Jake approached the edge of the ride, watching them pile in with fond amusement. “Okay, scoot over, ”

Before he could step in, Heeseung reached out and gently took Jake’s wrist.

“Actually,” Heeseung said, far too casually.

Then, without warning, he shut the little door on the kids’ teacup.

Click.

There was a beat of silence.

“HEY!” five voices shouted at once.

Jake froze, eyes widening as he turned to look at his husband. “Hyung, what are you doing?”

Heeseung didn’t answer. He just smiled, the kind of smile that meant trouble, and tugged Jake toward the neighboring teacup.

“After you,” he said lightly, already stepping in and pulling Jake with him.

Jake stumbled a little, laughing despite himself as he was guided into the seat. “You cannot just abandon them like that!”

“We didn’t abandon them,” Heeseung replied, closing the door and settling in beside him. “They’re together. Very together.”

The kids’ cup rocked as they all leaned toward the edge.

“This is betrayal,” Sarang declared, pointing accusingly.

“You said family ride!” Yuna added.

Minseo squinted at their parents. “You planned this.”

Heeseung took Jake’s hand, fingers threading together. “Temporary separation builds character.”

Jake shook his head, smiling so hard it hurt. “I can’t believe you.”

The ride attendant gave a thumbs-up, and before anyone could protest further, the platform lurched and the cups began to move.

At first it was slow. Gentle. Deceptively calm.

Then Heeseung reached for the center wheel.

“Oh no,” Jake said immediately. “Do not.”

Heeseung met his eyes, grin widening. “Trust me.”

“I absolutely do not, ”

Too late.

The cup began to spin, faster and faster, the world tilting as laughter bubbled out of Jake whether he wanted it to or not. He clutched Heeseung’s hand, then his arm, laughing breathlessly as the music blurred.

Across from them, the kids’ cup descended into chaos.

“STOP TURNING IT!” Sarang yelled at someone.

“I’m not touching it!” Minseo protested.

Soeun screamed with delighted laughter, while Haneul clung to the middle wheel like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Jake caught glimpses of them between spins, flailing arms, hair flying, pure, unfiltered joy.

“This is your fault!” Jake laughed, pressing his forehead briefly to Heeseung’s shoulder.

“And you love me for it,” Heeseung replied, steady and warm beside him, thumb brushing reassuring circles into Jake’s hand as the ride slowed at last.

When the cups finally coasted to a stop, everyone spilled out in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

The kids staggered dramatically.

“I’m dizzy,” Yuna announced.

“I think I saw my life flash before my eyes,” Sarang added dryly.

Soeun immediately begged, “Again! Again!”

Jake stepped out a little unsteady, still smiling, and Heeseung slipped an arm around his waist without thinking, grounding him.

“You okay?” Heeseung asked softly.

Jake leaned into him, eyes bright. “Yeah. I forgot how fun that was.”

The kids regrouped, already arguing about who spun the cup the most, who screamed the loudest, who wanted to ride again.

Heeseung looked down at Jake, squeezing his side gently. “Worth it?”

Jake laughed, glancing at their kids, flushed, happy, already racing toward the next ride.

“Yeah,” he said easily. “Worth it.”

It was inevitable that the conversation came up.

They were already deep in line for another ride when Jake noticed it, the way the three older kids had fallen a half-step behind, shoulders angled inward, heads bowed together like conspirators. The ride entrance loomed ahead, metal tracks rattling overhead, the line inching forward in slow anticipation.

Heeseung stood just ahead with the twins, one hand holding each, calmly pointing out the ride cars and explaining how the seats worked. Jake was beside them, relaxed, until the whispering behind him reached a very specific tone.

The we’re about to ask for something tone.

Sarang cleared her throat. “Mom, ”

“No,” Jake said immediately, without turning around.

There was a beat.

“…You didn’t even let me finish,” Sarang protested.

Jake finally looked back, one brow raised. “I don’t need to. I know that look.”

Yuna groaned. “It’s not that bad.”

Minseo tried a softer approach. “We just wanted to, ”

“No,” Jake repeated, firmer this time. “You are not going off on your own.”

Sarang sighed dramatically. “Okay, but hear me out. We want to ride the big rollercoasters. You and dad have to stay with the twins anyway, so it makes sense.”

Jake crossed his arms. “You ‘making sense’ is usually how I end up stressed.”

“We’ll keep our phones on,” Sarang said quickly. “Location shared. I won’t turn it off.”

“I promise to listen to her,” Yuna added.
“Me too,” Minseo chimed in. “We’ll be good.”

Heeseung glanced back then, giving them the look, the one that said Don’t look at me your mothers in charge.

Sarang met his gaze without flinching. “We’ll come back after every ride. We’ll keep you updated. Promise.”

Jake exhaled slowly and turned to his husband. “You’re backing me up on this, right?”

Heeseung blinked, then shrugged lightly, lips twitching. “It’s up to you, babe.”

Jake stared at him. “That is not backing me up.”

Heeseung just smiled, squeezing his side in comfort.

Jake dragged a hand down his face, then pointed at the three schemers. “You’ve had this planned for a while, haven’t you?”

Sarang grinned. “Since breakfast.”

Heeseung snorted, unable to help himself.

Jake shook his head, half defeated, half fond. “Fine. One ride at a time. You meet us where you say you will. If we don’t get updates, or if you’re not there, ”

“We’re grounded until college,” Yuna said solemnly.

Jake nodded. “Exactly… You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

The three didn’t waste a second, rushing forward to hug him all at once, arms around his waist, quick and warm and grateful.

“Bye, Mom!”
“Thank you!”
“We’ll text!”

They peeled away just as fast, already buzzing with excitement as they headed off together.

Heeseung watched them go, then looked at Jake, incredulous. “I can’t believe you folded.”

Jake sighed, slipping his hand into Heeseung’s as they moved forward in line with the twins. “They’re lucky they’re cute.”

Heeseung laughed softly, leaning closer. “And lucky you love them.”

Jake smiled despite himself, squeezing his husband’s hand as the line crept forward, twins chattering happily, the sound of distant screams from the rollercoasters echoing through the park.

One ride turned into two, which somehow turned into three.

Jake pretended to be surprised by this development. Heeseung didn’t even try.

To the kids’ credit, they were perfect about it, texts sent the second each ride ended, locations shared, quick check-ins every single time. They met back up with their parents outside each exit just like they promised, breathless and glowing, hair wild, talking over each other as they recounted every drop and twist.

Meanwhile, the twins’ excitement slowly shifted into something far more dangerous.

Hunger.

By the time the older three queued up for what they swore would be the last ride for the hour, the twins were leaning against Jake’s legs, energy waning, voices softer and more whiny than before.

“After this one, we eat,” Jake said, brushing a hand through one of their hair, already scanning the nearby food stands in his head.

Heeseung nodded, settling onto a bench with him just outside the ride’s exit. From where they sat, they had a perfect view of the track, steel weaving overhead, disappearing into rockwork before reemerging again and again.

They waited.

People poured out in clusters, laughing, dazed, some triumphant, some green around the edges. Jake’s eyes tracked every train as it crested the hill in the distance, watching faces flash by, searching.

He leaned slightly into his husband’s hold on him. Heeseung rested his mouth against Jake’s temple, letting Heeseung’s grounding presence calm him.

“I want to go on that too!” Haneul shouted, and Jake laughed softly despite his worry. “One day, Bear,” he said, ruffling his hair. “One day.”

Jake swallowed, his mind running through every possible scenario, though he trusted their eldest, Sarang, Yuna, and Minseo, would be responsible. Sure enough, a notification buzzed on his phone: a text from Sarang

Saran: We’re next.

Jake smiled despite himself. “They’re next.”

Heeseung glanced at Jake, offering a calm, reassuring smile. “They’ll be fine,” he said softly, and Jake gave a tight nod, trying to believe it while his hands instinctively squeezed the twins a little more.

One by one, the older kids boarded the ride. Sarang was gripping the bar while Yuna and Minseo shot her nervous glances. The ride lurched forward, and Jake’s stomach did a little flip along with them. He felt Heeseung’s arm tighten around him, grounding him as the coaster roared past, the screams and laughter mixing together into a chaotic symphony.

By the time the ride finished, Sarang, Yuna, and Minseo were stumbling off the coaster, hair tousled, faces flushed with adrenaline and pure delight. Jake immediately drew them into a tight embrace, motherly instinct flaring as he pressed his cheek to Sarang’s and inhaled Yuna and Minseo into his sides. “Are you okay? Was it too scary? Did you hold on tight?” he murmured, worry still thick in his voice.

“We’re fine, Mom! It was amazing!” Sarang exclaimed, bouncing back with a grin. Yuna jabbered over her shoulder, “And then we went upside down, and I screamed, and Minseo, he screamed too!” Minseo nodded emphatically, still catching his breath.

Heeseung laughed, arms slung around Jake and the kids, watching the thrill and relief wash over his family. “See?” he murmured into Jake’s ear, “They survived. And they loved it.”

Jake exhaled, still holding them close, the adrenaline easing from his chest. “I know… I know,” he said, voice softer now. “I just… I worry.”

“You always will,” Heeseung replied, brushing a hand through Jake’s hair, “and that’s okay. They’re ours, and they’re okay. For now, we just get to enjoy their stories.”

The kids chattered on excitedly, reliving each twist, drop, and turn, while Jake’s arms stayed around them, heart swelling with love and relief, still half in awe of the ride and half in awe of his brave, wild family.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The waiting room was quiet in that particular way only medical offices ever were, muted television murmuring in the corner, the rustle of paperwork, the occasional cough. Jake sat with his hands folded over his stomach, knee bouncing faintly despite his efforts to stay calm. Heeseung sat close beside him, thigh pressed to Jake’s, their fingers loosely intertwined as if grounding each other.

“You okay?” Heeseung asked softly, thumb brushing over Jake’s knuckles.

Jake nodded, then hesitated. “I think so. Just… nervous. It feels different this time.” He gave a small, uncertain laugh. “Not sure why.”

Before Heeseung could respond, a nurse called Jake’s name. Heeseung stood immediately, instinctive and steady, guiding Jake down the hallway and into the familiar exam room. The routine was almost comforting now, Jake changing into the gown while Heeseung helped tie it at the back, careful and reverent, as if this moment deserved gentleness.

The doctor entered with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you both again,” she said, greeting them like old friends. “So, tell me what’s been going on.”

Jake explained between breaths: the fatigue that clung to him all day, the nausea that came in waves, the way his body already felt like it was shifting. “I took a test,” he added quietly. “It was positive.”

The doctor nodded, already preparing the orders. Blood was drawn, a urine sample collected, and the wait that followed felt endless. Heeseung never let go of Jake’s hand.

When the doctor returned, her smile widened. “It’s confirmed. You’re pregnant.”

Jake let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, eyes immediately finding Heeseung’s. Heeseung’s face lit up, stunned joy washing over him as he leaned down to press a kiss to Jake’s fingers.

“Okay,” the doctor said gently. “Let’s take a look. It may be early, but we’ll see what we can find.”

The lights dimmed. Jake lay back, heart pounding as the cool gel touched his skin. Heeseung shifted closer, lacing their fingers together more tightly, bringing Jake’s hand to his lips in a soft, reassuring kiss.

The room was quiet except for the hum of the machine.

Then, there it was.

A sound, faint but unmistakable.

Jake’s breath caught. “Is that…?”

“That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor confirmed warmly.

The heartbeat continued, steady, reassuring, and Jake was just starting to relax when the doctor’s expression shifted.

Not dramatically. Not alarmed.
Just enough.

Heeseung noticed instantly.

His grip on Jake’s hand tightened. “Is… is everything okay?” he asked, voice careful, like he was afraid to break something fragile just by speaking.

The doctor hummed thoughtfully, adjusting the wand slightly, eyes narrowing at the screen. Jake’s breath hitched, his hand tightening in Heeseung’s hold.

“I’m just taking a closer look,” she said calmly. “Give me one moment.”

One moment stretched into several long seconds.

Jake swallowed. “You’re making a face,” he said softly, half-joking, half-not.

She smiled at him, reassuring but focused. “I promise, if I were worried, you’d know.”

Another pause. A few clicks of buttons. Then,

“Well,” the doctor said, a note of gentle surprise entering her voice. “That explains a few things.”

Heeseung’s heart practically stopped. “Explains what?”

She angled the screen slightly toward them. “There’s your baby,” she said, pointing. Then she shifted just a bit. “And… there’s the other one.”

Silence.

Jake blinked. “The… other… one?”

Heeseung leaned forward so fast his chair squeaked. “Other, wait, what?”

The doctor chuckled softly. “You’re expecting twins.”

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Jake let out a breath that turned into a laugh, shaky and disbelieving. “Twins,” he repeated, like he was testing the word out loud. “You’re sure?”

“Very sure,” she said, nodding. “Two heartbeats. Strong and clear.”

Heeseung stared at the screen, eyes wide, then dropped his forehead against Jake’s shoulder with a breathless sound that might’ve been laughter or might’ve been disbelief. “Oh my, ” He stopped himself, then lifted his head, smiling so hard it almost hurt.

Jake’s eyes were glassy now, emotion hitting all at once. “I thought I was just extra tired,” he whispered. “I thought I was imagining it.”

“You weren’t,” Heeseung said immediately, brushing his thumb over Jake’s knuckles.

The doctor let them have the moment before turning the lights back on, her tone shifting gently into something more grounded.

“I do want to talk briefly about what this means going forward,” she said. “This is your fifth pregnancy, Jake, and while you’ve handled all the others well, twins come with added considerations. We’ll monitor you more closely, more appointments, more scans.”

Jake nodded, listening carefully. Heeseung didn’t let go of his hand for a second.

“There are increased risks with multiples,” she continued honestly but calmly. “That doesn’t mean something will go wrong. It just means we’re going to be cautious and proactive.”

Heeseung nodded immediately. “Whatever you need,” he said. “We’ll do it.”

Jake exhaled, then smiled. “We’ve done this before. Just… not like this.”

The doctor smiled back. “Exactly. And you won’t be doing it alone.”

As they left the room later, Jake paused in the hallway, one hand unconsciously resting over his stomach now, the other holding the sonogram picture, like he already knew where everything belonged.

Twins.

Heeseung slipped an arm around his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You okay?” he murmured.

Jake leaned into him, smiling through the lingering nerves. “Terrified,” he admitted softly. Then, after a beat, “And kind of thrilled.”

Jake laughed, leaning into his chest. “Same.”

After a beat, Jake tilted his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief. “How are we even going to tell the kids?”

Heeseung groaned, already picturing it. “They’re going to lose their minds.”

“Someone’s going to cry,” Jake said thoughtfully.

“It might be me,” Heeseung replied.

Jake laughed again, warm and breathless, and Heeseung kissed his temple, holding him a little tighter.

Scared. Thrilled.
And already wondering how their loud, beautiful life was about to get even bigger.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Some memories didn’t come with dates attached. They lived in fragments instead, small moments that Jake carried with him, stitched together by warmth and weight and the way his children always seemed to find their way back to him and Heeseung when they needed it most.

Like the night Sarang was six and sick for the first time she could really remember.

She’d tried to be brave about it, insisting she was fine even as her nose ran and her voice went hoarse, but by midnight she’d padded into their room anyway, clutching her blanket with trembling hands. Jake barely had time to wake before she was climbing into bed, curling into his side like it was instinct. Heeseung shifted without complaint, pulling the covers higher, one large hand settling over Sarang’s back while Jake brushed her hair away from her damp forehead.

“You’re burning up,” Jake whispered.

“I don’t feel good,” Sarang murmured, voice wobbling at last.

“I know, sweetheart,” Heeseung said softly, kissing the crown of her head. “We’ve got you.”

She was asleep minutes later, breathing evening out, Jake stuck between her and Heeseung for the rest of the night, uncomfortable, yes, but unwilling to move an inch.

Then there was Yuna at eight, quiet and thoughtful even as a child, who never asked outright.

She’d just appeared one afternoon while Jake was reading on the couch, climbing into his lap sideways and tucking her face into his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. No tears, no explanation. Jake didn’t ask questions. He just wrapped an arm around her and kept reading, adjusting when she shifted so she fit better.

Heeseung had paused in the doorway, watching the two of them for a long moment before joining them, sitting on the floor and leaning back against Jake’s knees.

“She have a rough day?” he asked quietly.

Jake shrugged. “I think she just wanted to be held.”

Heeseung nodded like that was answer enough.

Minseo was different, always all energy until he wasn’t.

At five, after a nightmare he couldn’t quite explain, he’d climbed into their bed with hiccupping sobs, tangling himself between them like a little octopus. Heeseung had scooped him up easily, settling him against his chest, murmuring nonsense reassurances until Minseo’s breathing slowed.

Jake lay there watching them, fingers tracing lazy circles on Minseo’s back, heart aching in that full, quiet way that came with realizing how deeply someone depended on you.

And the twins, God, the twins.

They never came alone.

At four, it was a package deal: two small bodies, one clutching Jake’s arm, the other clinging to Heeseung’s shirt, whispering urgently about monsters or thunder or just missing them. They’d ended up sprawled across the bed sideways more than once, feet in ribs, hair in faces, Layla wedged somewhere near the pillows as if she, too, understood the assignment.

No one slept well those nights.

No one complained either.

Sometimes it wasn’t sickness or fear at all.

Sometimes it was a lazy Sunday morning with cartoons playing too loud, kids piled onto the couch in various states of half-awake, Jake pinned under limbs while Heeseung pretended to protest even as he pulled everyone closer. Sometimes it was after a long day, when one of them would just… drift in, lean against a shoulder, ask if they could sit there for a minute.

And every time, every single time, Jake and Heeseung made room.

Because these moments were fleeting. Because one day the kids wouldn’t fit so easily. Because someday they wouldn’t come running at all.

There were so many good moments that sometimes Jake worried he would forget them if he didn’t hold on tightly enough.

The movie had been playing for almost twenty minutes before either of them realized they hadn’t actually paid attention to the plot.

Jake was curled into Heeseung’s side on the couch, legs tucked up, blanket draped loosely over both of them. Heeseung had one arm wrapped around Jake’s shoulders, the other resting at his waist, thumb tracing slow, absent circles like it had memorized the shape of him years ago. The living room was dim, the TV glow soft and steady, the house finally, miraculously, quiet.

“They’re all asleep,” Jake murmured, barely louder than the movie.

Heeseung hummed, pressing a kiss to Jake’s temple. “Don’t jinx it.”

Too late.

First came Layla, nails clicking softly against the floor before she hopped up and curled immediately against Jake’s legs, tucking herself in like she’d been invited. Ollie followed not two seconds later, circling twice before squeezing into the space between Heeseung’s thigh and the arm of the couch. Benji lingered just long enough to be dramatic about it, then climbed up too, settling right on Jake’s feet with a pleased little huff.

Jake smiled, reaching down to scratch behind Layla’s ears. “Okay, you guys can stay.”

Heeseung snorted quietly. “They were waiting for us to get comfortable.”

The door to the hallway creaked.

Jake froze. “No.”

Sarang appeared first, phone in hand, squinting at the TV like she was just checking something. She paused when she saw them cuddled up, blanket shared, Heeseung’s chin resting on Jake’s head.

“Oh,” she said, immediately dropping the phone. “You’re watching something.”

Jake raised a brow. “Weren’t you supposed to be in your room?”

She shrugged and climbed onto the couch anyway, wedging herself directly between them with expert precision, back to Jake’s chest, head tipping lightly against Heeseung’s arm.

“Now I am,” she said.

Yuna followed close behind, already carrying a pillow, slipping onto Heeseung’s other side and curling in without ceremony. She didn’t even look at the screen before settling, eyes half-lidded.

Minseo hovered for all of three seconds before deciding there was room somewhere, climbing across Jake’s lap and flopping sideways with his head resting against Jake’s stomach.

The twins came last, Soeun bouncing up first, landing half on Heeseung and half on Yuna, giggling as she adjusted. Haneul climbed up more carefully, tucking himself against Jake’s side wherever he could fit, fingers curling into the blanket.

Within moments, the couch was full. Overfull.

Jake looked down at the pile of children and dogs, then up at Heeseung, whose arm was now pinned awkwardly behind Sarang and Yuna.

“We were cuddling,” Jake said softly, amused.

“We were,” Heeseung replied, deadpan, though his hand still found Jake’s waist, squeezing once in silent acknowledgment.

Sarang shifted slightly, blocking them completely. “You can cuddle later.”

Yuna hummed in agreement. “This is better.”

Jake laughed under his breath, resting his chin briefly on Sarang’s head. Heeseung leaned his cheek against Jake’s hair, careful, content despite the chaos.

The movie kept playing. No one watched it.

And even though neither of them could move, and their legs were definitely going numb, neither Jake nor Heeseung complained.

There were moments that felt almost unreal in their softness. All of them piled into bed during storms, bodies warm and tangled, Heeseung’s arms anchoring everyone while Jake brushed hair back from sleepy faces. Movie nights that turned into naps. Car rides where music played low and conversation drifted, the kids’ voices overlapping as they talked about school, friends, dreams they hadn’t learned yet were allowed to change.

They lived in the quiet in-betweens: early mornings when the house was still half-asleep and one of the kids would pad into the kitchen, hair wild, eyes heavy, leaning against Jake’s leg while he made breakfast. Afternoons spent sprawled on the floor with homework scattered everywhere, Heeseung pretending not to know the answers just so someone could explain it to him and feel clever. Evenings where laughter came easy, where the noise felt full instead of overwhelming.

Jake loved the way the kids came to them differently.

Some came loud and dramatic, words spilling out before the door even closed behind them. Others lingered in the doorway, waiting to be noticed, needing an invitation that wasn’t spoken. Jake learned to read the difference, to open his arms without asking, to sit quietly when that was what was needed, to listen even when the words came out wrong.

Heeseung had his own quiet magic. He was steady in a way that didn’t demand attention, hands always ready to catch, to lift, to hold. He knelt down to eye level during hard conversations, never towering, never rushing. He turned small moments into rituals: late-night snacks after bad days, early-morning walks, promises whispered and always kept.

And still, there were nights Jake lay awake, staring at the ceiling long after the house had gone quiet, wondering if he was doing any of it right.

He worried when he raised his voice, even once. When he missed something important because he was tired or overwhelmed. When he saw pieces of his own fears mirrored back at him in his children and didn’t know how to fix it.

Heeseung saw it before Jake ever said anything.

There were nights he pulled Jake into his chest and held him there while Jake whispered all the doubts he carried, What if I’m not enough? What if I mess them up? What if I don’t know how to help them when it really matters?

Heeseung never rushed those moments. He didn’t brush them away or pretend they weren’t real. He just held Jake tighter and reminded him, over and over, of all the ways he showed up. Of every scraped knee kissed better. Every hard conversation faced instead of avoided. Every time Jake chose patience when it would have been easier not to.

They doubted themselves most when things were hard, when emotions ran high, when one child pulled away and another clung too tightly, when the house felt loud in a way that made Jake’s chest ache. When Heeseung wondered if being strong all the time meant he wasn’t listening enough.

Sarang was perched on the edge of the couch, phone in hand, eyes bright with mischief. “Mom, can I go to a party this weekend? Please?” she asked, the words rolling out in practiced ease. Sixteen now, and confident in her charm, she leaned forward, trying her best puppy-dog eyes on Jake.

Jake, ever the responsible mom, shook his head firmly. “No, Sari. Not this weekend. You know how I feel about unsupervised parties.”

Sarang’s smile faltered for a second, then she straightened. “Okay… fine,” she said, voice tight, like a door closing on her hope.

Not ready to give up, she went to her dad, who was sitting at his desk reviewing some papers. “Dad,” she began carefully, “can I go to the party this weekend?”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Did you ask Mom first?”

“Yes,” she said, a little too quickly, forcing a nod. “He said it’s okay.”

Heeseung tilted his head, hesitating. Something didn’t feel right, but he didn’t press. He eventually gave a slow nod. “Alright. Just… be responsible, okay?”

Later that night, the quiet house betrayed the absence of one set of footsteps. Jake noticed the empty hallway. “She’s gone,” he muttered, voice tight.

Heeseung looked up from the couch, calm but with a hint of sharpness. “So… she said you let her go?”

Jake’s jaw tightened, a low exasperation in his voice. “No, I did not. I told her no. And you… didn’t think to double-check with me?”

Heeseung tilted his head, voice even but with a touch of sarcasm. “Oh, right, because you’d obviously have all the answers. I just thought she was being truthful. She’s never lied to us before, you know.”

Jake let out a frustrated laugh, sharp and short. “Exactly! Which is why I’m annoyed. She went behind both of our backs. But sure, let’s just keep trusting everything at face value, why not?”

Heeseung’s hand found Jake’s, squeezing lightly, though the smirk tugging at his lips was more guilty than playful. “Okay, fine. I should’ve checked. Happy now?”

Jake rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath but still letting Heeseung hold him. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it, hyung.”

By the time they found Sarang at the party, the ride home was quiet, tension thick enough to feel in the car’s still air. No one spoke much, just the soft hum of tires on the road, the distant city lights flickering through the windows.

When they got home, the house was quiet, but the staff and the other kids had been waiting up. Jake sent the younger ones off to bed, their sleepy eyes full of curiosity and unasked questions. Heeseung led Sarang into his office with Jake following.

The confrontation started tense, words clipped.

“Who exactly said you could go?” Jake asked, voice tight, trying not to break.

“I did! I asked Dad, and he said yes!” Sarang shot back, voice rising.

“And Mom?” Jake pressed, frustration and hurt threading every word.

Sarang went silent, knowing the truth but unwilling to admit it.

Jake shook his head, shoulders stiff, voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. “Have I not been a good enough mom for you? Have we not given you everything? And still, you go behind our backs, sneak out, and lie to both of us?”

Sarang’s face crumpled under the weight of their disappointment. “I… I just wanted, ”

“You just wanted what?” Jake’s voice cracked, tears pricking his eyes. “To do what everyone else was doing? To ignore the trust we’ve tried to build? Sarang, there are rules for a reason. It’s not like we do this out of spite or for ourselves. If your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you do it too?”

“No, Mom, that’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point? Please, enlighten me,” Jake said, the passive edge in his tone sharp, a hint of sarcasm cutting through his grief.

Heeseung stepped closer, laying a calming hand on Jake’s arm. “Jaeyun… breathe. She’s scared too. She made a mistake, but she’s growing. That doesn’t mean what she did was right, but we can work through this.”

The tension lingered for a moment longer before Sarang, frustrated and ashamed, stormed off to her room.

Jake huffed, the tension rolling off him in a quiet, biting exhale. “Yeah… sure, growth and mistakes. Great. Just… wonderful that I get to be the ‘angry mom’ while Dad’s the one who says yes.”

Heeseung squeezed his arm, voice soft but firm. “Hey… stop it. You’re not ‘the angry mom.’ You’re her parent, and that’s what she needs. Not blame, not sarcasm. Just you.”

Later, in the quiet of their bedroom, Jake lay on his side, staring at the silver moonlight spilling across the floor. Heeseung slipped in behind him, chest warm against his back, arms wrapping him up like a shield.

“You are a good mom,” Heeseung murmured into his hair. “We’ve provided everything for them. It’s not your fault. She’s growing… of course kids are going to be rebellious. That doesn’t mean you did anything wrong.”

Jake didn’t answer, the tension from earlier still weighing heavy, but he let himself be held. “Promise me…” he murmured quietly after a long pause, voice barely audible. “Promise me… that we won’t end up like our parents… That we won’t just marry off our kids.”

Heeseung tightened his hold, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Never. Not our kids. We’ll do it differently. We’ll let them choose, and we’ll be here… for everything.”

Jake exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, letting the moonlight and Heeseung’s steady warmth wash away the tension of the night.

Memories are the tapestry of a family’s life, stitched together with threads of laughter, worry, and quiet, tender moments. For Heeseung and Jake, these recollections are not just echoes of their past, they are living proof of the family they’ve built together.

The morning dawns with a familiar, unsettling jolt. Jake wakes up before the alarm, his mind already racing through a cascade of worst-case scenarios. Late assignments, behavioral notes, and the dreaded "we need to talk about your child" echo in his thoughts like a haunting melody. He lies there, staring at the ceiling, his anxiety spiraling into a mental slideshow of potential disasters.

Heeseung, however, knows without a word. He shifts closer, draping an arm over Jake's waist and pressing a slow, comforting kiss into his shoulder. Hus scent washes over Jake first, warm, grounding, and woodsy, like cedar and sunlight filtering through a cabin window. It settles into Jake's chest, quieting the frantic buzzing just a notch.

"You're spiraling," Heeseung murmurs, his voice a soothing balm.

"I'm being realistic," Jake replies weakly, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

"You're catastrophizing," Heeseung corrects gently.

"…I might be catastrophizing," Jake concedes, a flicker of acknowledgment in his tone.

Heeseung hums in victory and nudges his scent a little stronger, deliberate but gentle. Jake exhales, tension bleeding out of him despite himself.

By the time they make it to the kitchen, the house is already alive with chaos. Minseo is leaning halfway over the counter, stealing bites of toast. Soeun and Haneul are arguing over who gets the blue cup. Yuna is scrolling on her phone, earbuds half in, half out. Sarang is already dressed, backpack packed, quietly making sure everyone else has what they need.

Jake claps his hands. "Okay. Announcement."

Five sets of eyes turn toward him, some amused, some wary.

"Today is parent-teacher conferences," Jake says. "Which means, "

", we're all getting disowned," Minseo says cheerfully, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jake points at him. "See. This. This is what I'm talking about."

Heeseung snorts into his coffee, trying to suppress a smile.

Soeun frowns. "Are we in trouble?"

"No," Jake says immediately, softening his tone. "No one's in trouble."

"Yet," Yuna mutters under her breath, a playful smirk on her lips.

Heeseung shoots her a look. "You're fine."

Sarang tilts her head, her gaze piercing. "You're nervous."

Jake opens his mouth to deny it, then sighs. "I'm… invested."

Haneul grins. "Is that why you're wearing the serious sweater?"

Jake looks down at himself, a hint of embarrassment flushing his cheeks. "…This is a perfectly normal sweater."

"It's the serious sweater," Minseo teases. "You only wear that when it’s serious."

Jake groans, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Heeseung steps in, resting a hand on Jake's back, his thumb rubbing small circles.

"Here's the deal," Heeseung says calmly. "We're going to hear some good things, some things we need to work on. That doesn't change how much we love you."

"And," Jake adds, pointing again, "we are not panicking."

Minseo and Yuna exchange a look, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

"He’s absolutely panicking," Yuna says, a grin spreading across her face.

Jake glares, but Heeseung laughs, the sound warm and reassuring.

Jake drives, his hands fixed at ten and two on the steering wheel, knuckles pale. The car is too quiet, no music, no idle chatter, just the low hum of the engine and Jake's breathing, a little too shallow.

Heeseung watches him from the passenger seat, his expression a mix of concern and understanding.

"Jake," he says gently.

"I'm fine," Jake replies, his voice tight.

"You haven't blinked in three blocks," Heeseung points out, a hint of worry in his tone.

Jake exhales through his nose, a sharp, controlled breath. "I just don't like walking in blind."

"We're not blind," Heeseung says. "We know our kids."

Jake swallows, his throat tight. "We know our versions of them."

The light turns red, and Jake stops a little too hard. His scent sharpens, clean, bright lemon, anxiety threading underneath it like a thin wire pulled too tight.

Heeseung doesn't reach for him right away. He rolls the window down just an inch, then lets his pheromones unfurl, warm, steady, grounding. Woodsy musk, calm and familiar, filling the car slowly instead of all at once.

Jake's shoulders loosen despite himself. Heeseung reaches over, resting his hand on Jake's thigh. "Whatever we hear," he says quietly, "we handle it together."

Jake nods, his throat tight. "I know."

The light turns green, and they pull into the school parking lot, sitting there for a moment longer than necessary. Jake stares at the building, his expression a mix of dread and resignation.

"I hate this part," he admits softly.

Heeseung squeezes his leg. "I know."

Then, softer: "You don't have to be perfect to be a good parent."

Jake finally looks at him, a flicker of a smile on his lips. "…You sound like you're trying to sedate me."

Heeseung smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Is it working?"

Jake snorts, tension cracking just enough. "Okay," he says, reaching for the door. "Let's do this."

They arrive ten minutes early, and the gym is already half full, rows of folding chairs scraping against the floor, parents clustered in small groups, voices overlapping in low, polite murmurs. A banner reading "Welcome Families!" hangs slightly crooked above the stage.

They find seats near the middle. Jake sits, then immediately shifts, then smooths his sweater like the fabric personally betrayed him. His scent sharpens, bright, clean citrus with an edge of nerves threading through it.

Heeseung doesn't comment. He just leans closer, lets his pheromones roll out in a controlled wave, warmth, wood, something solid and steady. Jake's shoulders drop a fraction.

"I feel like I'm about to be graded," Jake mutters, his voice tinged with anxiety.

Heeseung murmurs back, "We raised five children. If there's a curve, we’ll pass."

"Don't joke," Jake says, but his mouth twitches despite himself. "This is serious."

A parent in front of them turns and smiles sympathetically. "First time?"

Jake opens his mouth, closes it, then, "No. Which makes it worse."

The woman laughs softly and turns back around.

A microphone squeals, and the principal steps up onto the stage, smiling with the practiced calm of someone who has done this a thousand times.

"Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming out for parent-teacher conferences, "

Jake grips his hand tightly, his knuckles turning white.

Heeseung nudges his knee with his own, grounding him, present.

The principal talks about community, about growth, about partnership between school and home. Jake hears maybe half of it; the rest is static behind the thud of his heartbeat.

"…and remember," the principal finishes, "these conferences are not about perfection. They're about progress."

Jake exhales slowly, like he's been given permission.

Parents begin to stand, chairs scraping again as teachers' names and classroom numbers are announced. The room breaks into motion.

Heeseung rises smoothly, offers Jake his hand. "You ready?"

Jake takes it, squeezes once. "No."

Heeseung smiles. "Great. Let's start with the twins."

Ms. Jeon smiles when they enter, but she doesn't start talking right away. She gestures for them to sit, folds her hands neatly on the desk. Jake's heart ticks up a notch.

Heeseung settles beside him, knee brushing his, present.

"So," Ms. Alvarez begins, "Soeun and Haneul are… very different learners."

Jake braces, then forces his shoulders to relax.

"Haneul is curious," she continues. "Very bright. He asks excellent questions."

Heeseung smiles. "He does that at home too."

"Yes," she says, amused, "and in class. Sometimes during instruction."

Jake winces. "We've been reminding him about raising his hand."

"He's improving," Ms. Alvarez reassures quickly. "His excitement is a strength, we just want to help him channel it."

Jake nods, scribbling a mental note.

"And Soeun," the teacher continues, turning the paper in front of her, "is remarkably focused. Quiet, but incredibly observant."

Jake's expression softens immediately.

"She finishes her work carefully, and she often notices when classmates are struggling. She'll help them without being asked."

"That sounds like her," Jake says quietly.

"The only thing I'd encourage," Ms. Alvarez adds gently, "is that she hesitates to speak up, even when she knows the answer."

Heeseung reaches for Jake's hand under the table, grounding him. "We'll work on that."

Ms. Alvarez smiles. "They're both wonderful students. Truly. Just a few balance adjustments."

Jake exhales, slow and deep, like he's been holding it since they sat down.

As they stand to leave, Ms. Alvarez adds, "You're doing a good job."

That almost gets him.

Mr. Park greets them warmly as they sit down, "Minseo is… a remarkable student," he begins.

Jake leans forward a little, ears attuned. "Remarkable?" he prompts.

"Yes," Mr. Park says, nodding. "Very bright, gifted. He grasps concepts quickly and enjoys challenges."

Jake exhales a little.

Mr. Park continues, "The thing is… sometimes he gets bored waiting for the rest of the class. That can show up as careless mistakes or blurting out answers before everyone else is ready."

Jake nods slowly, understanding. "So he's just… impatient?"

"Exactly," the teacher says. "If he were in an advanced placement setting, I think you'd see him thrive even more. Right now, he's occasionally restless."

Heeseung hides a knowing smile. "We noticed that at home too," he murmurs under his breath.

"And when challenged," Mr. Park adds, "he does very well. He's capable of exceeding expectations, but sometimes he entertains himself when the pace doesn't match his ability."

Jake exhales again, this one heavier, pride and worry mingling. "We'll work on that then," he says, "and maybe look into advanced options."

"Exactly," Mr. Park says with a nod. "He has immense potential. And he's a joy to have in class."

Heeseung squeezes Jake's hand subtly, grounding him. Jake leans back, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

Mrs. Lee adjusts her glasses as they sit down. "Yuna is a strong student," she begins. "Her test scores are excellent, and she completes her work on time."

Jake exhales slowly, shoulders dropping a fraction. "That's… good."

"But," Mrs. Lee continues, "she can struggle with focus at times. She's easily distracted, especially when there's a lot going on around her."

Jake blinks. "Distracted… like homework distracted, or classroom distracted?"

"Both, really," Mrs. Lee says kindly. "She's bright and motivated, but her attention can wander. She sometimes needs reminders to stay on task."

Heeseung leans over and brushes Jake's hand with his thumb under the table. "We can work on that," he murmurs.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to frame it positively. "…That makes sense. At home she's constantly juggling projects and ideas."

"Yes," Mrs. Lee nods. "She's very capable, but she benefits from structure and guidance. She knows she can do more, and she wants to. We just need to channel her energy efficiently."

"She's negotiating instructions at home too," Jake whispers with a small, tired smile.

"And she does sometimes push back," Mrs. Lee adds gently, "but always respectfully. Yuna knows her capabilities and is learning how to manage them."

Heeseung squeezes Jake's hand again. "About effort, not perfection," he reminds him quietly.

Jake glances at him, softening. "…Yes. That's exactly it."

Mrs. Lee smiles. "She's a wonderful student. A little scattered at times, but highly capable. With a bit of guidance, she'll continue to excel."

Sarang’s teacher greets them warmly, a smile that's both professional and genuine. "Sarang is exceptional," she begins.

Jake straightens immediately, chest tightening with pride.

"She's passing all her classes with top marks," the teacher continues. "She's responsible, organized, and often helps her peers, without being asked."

Heeseung's chest swells just slightly, his hand brushing Jake's under the table.

"But," the teacher adds carefully, "she takes on a lot of responsibility. Sometimes more than is fair for a teenager."

Jake frowns. "How do you mean?"

"She prioritizes the needs of others first, group projects, classmates' questions, friends' problems. She's reliable and conscientious, but it's clear she's stretched thin at times."

Heeseung leans closer to Jake, thumb rubbing small circles against his palm. "We notice that too at home with her siblings," he murmurs.

"She's not failing. She's passing with flying colors, academically at the top of her class," the teacher reassures them. "But emotionally and physically, she's carrying a heavy load. A little reminder that it's okay to step back and let others handle things can go a long way."

Jake exhales slowly, tension and pride warring in his chest. "…We've seen that," he admits quietly.

"She's a wonderful student," the teacher adds warmly, "and a remarkable young person. Just remind her that being a teenager, and a top student, is enough. She doesn't need to parent everyone else too."

Jake's fingers tighten around Heeseung's as they walk through the crowded school hallways, the echo of other parents and students buzzing around them. The noise feels endless, overwhelming, but Heeseung's hand is steady, warm, grounding.

"I don't know," Jake mutters, eyes flicking to the lockers, "I feel like… everything we've been doing…"

Heeseung squeezes his hand gently. "It was still good. Obviously it could've been better, every parent thinks that, but no child is going to be perfect."

Jake exhales, shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah… yeah, I know. I just, sometimes I feel like I should be doing more."

"Think about it," Heeseung says, voice low, guiding. "Haneul just needs to learn patience. Soeun, raising her hand, speaking up. Minseo, focus when things aren't challenging. Yuna, attention, structure. Sarang, letting go a little. That's it. That's all."

Jake nods slowly, still gripping Heeseung's hand. "When you say it like that… it's manageable."

"It is," Heeseung says, letting the warmth of his touch and his calmness wrap around Jake like a shield. "They just need guidance, not perfection. And we're right there with them."

They reach the parking lot. Jake pauses mid-step, rubbing his forehead with one hand, clearly drained.

Heeseung arches an eyebrow and smiles softly. "I'll drive. You look like you're about to fall over."

Jake groans. "I… might."

Heeseung helps him gently into the passenger seat, brushing hair back from Jake's face and pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his temple. "There," he murmurs. "Settle in. I've got this."

Jake sinks into the seat, closing his eyes for a beat. "…Thanks."

Heeseung slides behind the wheel, hands steady on the wheel, the familiar woodsy warmth rolling off him and filling the car. "Parenting done for today?" he asks, glancing at Jake with a teasing smile.

Jake chuckles softly. "Survived the day… barely."

Heeseung smirks, thumb brushing the back of Jake's hand resting on the center console. "Barely is still a win. And tomorrow, we try again, but better."

The smell of dinner, roasted vegetables and freshly baked bread, fills the kitchen. The kids are already at the table, tucking in, thanks to the staff having everything mostly ready.

"How did it go?" Soeun asks between bites, glancing up at Jake and Heeseung.

Jake and Heeseung exchange a long look, hands brushing for a reassuring squeeze. Should I? Should you? Heeseung's lips twitch with mischief.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly. "It… wasn't good."

The kids freeze mid-bite. Haneul nearly drops his fork.

"Not good?!" Yuna blurts, eyes wide.

Heeseung leans casually against the counter. "Terrible. Absolutely terrible. Your teachers… had some very strong words about you."

Jake groans dramatically. "Yes. Rude, unfocused… the worst students they've ever had."

The room goes silent. The kids stare, mouths slightly open, forks halfway to their mouths.

"You're… joking, right?" Minseo finally whispers.

Jake and Heeseung exchange another glance, long, playful, almost cruel in its patience. A tense beat passes. The kids hold their breath.

Then Heeseung leans down, brushing a gentle kiss across Jake's temple. "Completely joking."

Jake exhales, the tension cracking. "We're joking. You're all incredible students, top of your classes. Just… a little chaotic, maybe."

Sarang shakes her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. "You're terrible."

Haneul groans. "I almost cried."

Soeun smirks. "We'll remember that for next time."

Jake leans against Heeseung, squeezing his hand. "There are just some smaller details we need to work on, but we couldn't be any more proud of all of you."

The kids laugh, forks back in hand, and the kitchen hums with warmth, chatter, and the happy chaos of family life.

The kitchen quiets down, dishes cleared, and the kids head off to bed one by one. Heeseung and Jake follow them upstairs, tucking each in with a quick kiss and a word of praise. "Haneul," Jake whispers, "your curiosity and excitement make you so special." Heeseung adds, "And your kindness to others? That shines too." At Soeun's bed, they remind her to speak up when she knows the answer, and how proud they are of her attentiveness. Minseo gets a nudge about focusing when things get boring, Yuna a gentle reminder that her hard work and determination is noticed even when she gets distracted.

Sarang is sitting on her bed, brushing her hair with one hand while the other holds a book open to a page she's reading. The soft lamplight spills across the room, illuminating the neat stacks of schoolwork and sketches by her bedside.

"Hi, lovey," Jake says quietly, smiling as he leans against the doorframe.

"Hi, Mom," Sarang murmurs, looking up with a small, tired smile.

Heeseung slips in behind Jake, lowering himself to sit on the edge of her bed. "Sari," he says softly, "we're so proud of you. In school… being at the top of your class. Your teacher only had the best things to say about you."

Sarang's face brightens instantly, and she sets her brush down. Jake takes her other hand in his, squeezing gently, while Heeseung sits on the opposite side, leaning slightly in, giving her his full attention.

Jake tilts his head, voice gentle. "How are you feeling about school, though?"

Sarang shrugs, then smiles. "It's good. I love it."

Heeseung nods. "Because your teacher said you like to put others first, take care of them before yourself, we wanted to check in on you."

Sarang frowns slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is that so wrong?"

Jake scoots closer, resting an arm lightly against the side of her bed. "Baby, not at all. I know we've always taught you to help others when needed… but you have to remember to take care of yourself first, too. Listen… I know we don't say this enough, but we love you. We appreciate everything you do for this family. I know it can't be the easiest, being the oldest of five. Sometimes you act like the third parent when you shouldn't have to."

Heeseung's voice is soft but firm. "It's not your responsibility at all. That's what me and your father are here for. I know you like to help out, take care of your siblings like they're your own… but you don't need to carry all that weight on you."

Sarang swallows, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I… I just like helping."

Jake nods, squeezing her hand again. "We know. And it's beautiful. Just remember… it's okay to let us handle things sometimes too. You're allowed to be a kid. To focus on you. That doesn't make you any less amazing."

Heeseung brushes a strand of hair from her face, letting his warmth settle around her. "Exactly. We're proud of who you are, smart, kind, responsible. But most of all, we're proud of you just for being you."

Sarang leans back, taking a slow breath, feeling both seen and understood, the weight of the day and her own perfectionism easing just a little in the warmth of her parents' words.

Sarang leans back against her pillows, still holding their hands, letting herself just breathe for a moment. "Thanks… I guess I just worry sometimes," she admits quietly.

Jake tilts his head, softening. "About what, baby?"

"That I'm not doing enough," she murmurs. "At school, at home… with everyone."

Heeseung squeezes her hand gently. "Sari, you are doing more than enough. And even when you feel stretched thin, it doesn't go unnoticed. But part of growing up, part of being the oldest, is learning that it's okay to step back, to trust us to handle the rest."

Jake nods, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "Exactly. You're allowed to take a break, focus on what you need. You're allowed to just… be Sarang."

Sarang lets a small smile slip through, her eyes softening. "I guess… I just don't want to let anyone down."

"You won't," Heeseung says firmly, voice steady. "We've got you. Always. And we'll always help carry the load, so you don't have to do it alone."

Jake leans closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Every day, you make us proud. And that's not just about schoolwork or helping out, it's about you. Your heart, your mind, your care for everyone. That's more than enough."

Sarang squeezes their hands back, a little laugh escaping her lips. "I love you guys."

"We love you too, lovey," Jake whispers. Heeseung's thumb strokes small circles on the back of her hand, grounding her.

After a few more quiet moments, Heeseung gently releases her hand and stands. "Time to get some sleep, Sari. Big day tomorrow, remember?"

Sarang nods, still smiling. "Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad."

Jake and Heeseung exchange a glance, relief and pride mingling, before leaning down to press one last kiss to each side of her head. "Goodnight, lovey," Jake murmurs.

"Goodnight, Sari," Heeseung echoes.

As they quietly step back toward the door, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm light over her room, Sarang nestles into her covers with a small contented sigh, finally letting herself relax.

The house settles into a comfortable silence, the hum of the day's activities fading into the gentle rhythm of night. Jake and Heeseung make their way downstairs, the weight of the day still lingering in their shoulders but softened by the warmth of their family's love.

In the living room, they collapse onto the couch, Jake's head resting on Heeseung's shoulder, their fingers intertwined. The room is dimly lit, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

"Today was… a lot," Jake finally breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung hums in agreement, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of Jake's hand. "But we made it through. Together."

Jake chuckles softly, a tired but content sound. "We always do."

There's a pause, the kind that speaks volumes, filled with unspoken understanding and shared history. Then, Heeseung asks, "What's on your mind, Jake?"

Jake sighs, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "I just… I want them to be happy. To know how much we love them. To understand that they're enough, just as they are."

"They do know," Heeseung reassures him, his voice steady and sure. "And we'll keep reminding them, every day. That's our job, right? To be their safe haven, their biggest cheerleaders?"

Jake nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "Exactly. And to love them through all of it. The good, the bad, the chaotic."

Heeseung leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Jake's temple. "We're doing a great job, Jake. Don't doubt that. Our kids are lucky to have us, and we're lucky to have them."

Jake turns his head, capturing Heeseung's lips in a gentle kiss, a promise of love and support. When they pull away, Jake rests his forehead against Heeseung's, their breaths mingling.

"Tomorrow is a new day," Jake says, his voice filled with renewed determination. "We'll face it together, just like we always do."

Heeseung smiles, his eyes reflecting the soft light. "Together. Always."

They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, the world outside fading away, leaving only the two of them and the love that binds them. Eventually, Jake stifles a yawn, and Heeseung chuckles.

"Time for bed, baby," Heeseung says, standing up and pulling Jake to his feet.

Jake nods, a soft smile on his face. "Lead the way."

As they make their way upstairs, the house creaks and settles around them, a familiar symphony of home. In their bedroom, they undress quietly, the routine of years making it almost dance-like. They climb into bed, Jake curling up against Heeseung's side, his head resting on Heeseung's chest.

The room is dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon through the window. Jake listens to the steady beat of Heeseung's heart, a metronome of comfort and love.

"Goodnight, hyung," Jake whispers, his eyes already drifting closed.

"Goodnight, pretty," Heeseung replies, his voice a low rumble. "Sweet dreams."

And with that, they drift off to sleep, their breaths syncing, their hearts beating as one, ready to face whatever the next day brings, together.

Every chaotic mealtime, every proud glance at a top test score, every small victory or mistake, becomes part of the story they carry with them, shaping how they parent, love, and lean on one another. In the quiet moments, sitting hand in hand after tucking the kids in, the laughter and exasperation, the small triumphs and the worries, all of it folds together, reminding them who they are, not just as individuals, but as a family. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jake had been hunched over his desk, trying to focus on blueprints and project deadlines, when he winced sharply, pressing a hand over his abdomen. The cramping had started mild but was now twisting, insistent. He tried to shake it off, telling himself it was just stress, but then Heeseung noticed the way Jake stiffened, the pale tension in his face.

“Jaeyun… what’s wrong?” Heeseung asked immediately, voice low but urgent, stepping closer.

Jake’s face flushed, a wave of panic hitting him as he glanced down and realized the blood. “I, I’m bleeding,” he whispered, voice tight. “I… I don’t know how bad it is.”

Heeseung didn’t waste a second. His arm wrapped around Jake’s waist, steadying him as he supported him to his feet. “We’re leaving. Now. I’m driving. Don’t argue with me.”

At the OB-GYN’s office, Heeseung helped Jake onto the examination table. The doctor entered, greeting them warmly but with a serious edge.

“Jake… Heeseung… I’m glad you came in immediately,” she said. “We discussed that there could be complications with this pregnancy, and unfortunately, it seems we’re seeing that reality now. We need to take precautions moving forward to protect both your health and the babies’ health.”

Jake’s stomach dropped. “Complications?” His voice trembled as fear took hold.

The doctor nodded, calm but firm. “Yes. You’re showing signs of preeclampsia, and the bleeding is a serious warning. You could be at risk, and with twins, there’s added concern for both babies. Monitoring will be frequent, and strict rest is required immediately. No strain, no overexertion. Everything now is about safety, yours and theirs.”

Heeseung slid closer to Jake, hands finding his, thumbs brushing soothingly over his knuckles. “We’ll face this together, Jayunnie. You’re not alone. Not ever.”

Jake swallowed hard, the reality settling over him like a heavy weight. “Twins… and now this…”

“Yes,” the doctor replied gently. “We’ll need to be careful and watch you closely. This is serious, but it’s manageable with the right precautions and support.”

The house felt too loud when they got home.

Not because the kids were yelling, because they weren’t. Everything sounded distant, muffled, like Jake was underwater. He barely registered the familiar hum of voices or the soft padding of feet on the floors. He just moved when guided, coat slipped from his shoulders, shoes nudged off by habit rather than thought.

Heeseung noticed immediately.

Jake was quiet in a way that wasn’t calm. His shoulders were tight, his gaze unfocused, lips pressed together like he was holding something fragile inside his chest and terrified it might spill if he breathed wrong.

Heeseung turned to the staff gently. “Can you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? We just… need a moment.”

They nodded without question. This family had taught everyone around them how to read the small things.

Jake stood near the entryway, hands clasped together, staring at nothing. Heeseung stepped closer, then lowered himself until he was kneeling in front of him, bringing their faces level. He took Jake’s hands, cool, tense, and squeezed them just enough to anchor him.

“Hey,” Heeseung said softly. “Where did you go just now?”

Jake blinked, like he’d forgotten he was allowed to be asked that. His jaw tightened. He shook his head once, a small, dismissive motion. “Nowhere. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Heeseung smiled, not amused, not indulgent, but warm and knowing. He let out a quiet chuckle. “Pretty,” he said gently, thumbs brushing over Jake’s knuckles, “that’s kind of my main job.”

Jake’s breath hitched despite himself.

“Come on,” Heeseung continued, standing and tugging lightly at his hands. “Let’s go.”

Jake frowned faintly. “Where?”

“Somewhere quiet,” Heeseung said. “You need to relax. The kids are taken care of.”

Jake didn’t argue. He let himself be led.

The bathroom filled slowly with warmth, steam curling upward as Heeseung ran the tub, testing the temperature carefully, adding Epsom salt, a few drops of oil he knew Jake liked. Candles flickered to life along the counter, their light soft and steady.

When they finally sank into the water, Jake exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the doctor’s office.

He settled back instinctively, his spine resting against Heeseung’s chest. The water lapped gently at his stomach, and without thinking, Jake’s hands came to rest there, palms spread, thumbs tracing slow, absent circles over the curve of his bump. A quiet, protective motion.

Heeseung wrapped one arm around him, his hand settling over Jake’s, grounding both of them at once. His other hand slid up, fingers threading through Jake’s hair, combing through it slowly, patiently.

They didn’t speak at first.

The silence wasn’t empty, it was heavy, shared. The kind that only exists when two people are carrying the same fear and don’t yet know how to name it out loud.

Jake swallowed, eyes fixed on the candlelight. His voice came out barely above a whisper.

The bathroom was quiet when they settled into the tub, steam curling lazily around them. Jake leaned back against Heeseung’s chest, the warmth soaking into muscles that had been tight all day. His hands rested over his stomach automatically, thumbs brushing slow, anxious paths.

Heeseung wrapped one arm around him, his hand covering Jake’s, the other carding gently through his hair.

“I keep wondering,” Jake said after a long stretch of silence, voice low and unsteady, “if I did something. Like… maybe I pushed myself too hard. Or missed a sign. Maybe we could’ve caught it sooner.”

Heeseung’s hand stilled for half a second before tightening reassuringly. “No,” he said firmly. “Baby, don’t think like that. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

Jake swallowed. “I know what the doctor said, I just, ”

Heeseung leaned down, pressing his lips to Jake’s temple. “Shh,” he murmured. “I know. But you heard her. Sometimes these things happen, even when you do everything right.”

Jake’s breath hitched. “What if… what if everything’s not okay?”

The words hung there between them.

Heeseung didn’t rush to fill the silence. He just held him tighter, steady and solid.

Then, quietly, “Then we’ll figure out how to make it okay.”

Another pause.

Jake’s hands curled slightly against his stomach. His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “If something were to happen… and you had to choose, ”

Heeseung moved instantly.

He shifted them both, turning Jake so they were face to face, water sloshing softly around them. He cupped Jake’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing under his eyes as tears welled there, mirrored in his own.

“Jaeyun,” he said, voice thick but steady, “look at me.”

Jake met his gaze.

“I don’t even want to think like that,” Heeseung said. “And neither should you. We’re not going there. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Jake’s breath trembled, tears spilling over despite himself.

Heeseung leaned forward, resting his forehead against Jake’s. “You’re not alone in this. You never have been. And whatever happens, we face it together. Always.”

Jake nodded, pressing his face into Heeseung’s shoulder, letting himself finally cry.

Heeseung held him there, one hand at his back, the other still warm and protective over the life they were both so desperately holding onto.

The weeks that followed settled into a slow, careful rhythm, measured in rest, reminders, and quiet reassurances.

Jake’s world shrank to the bedroom and the living room. The couch became his main station during the day, pillows arranged just right, a blanket always within reach. He wasn’t bedridden, but everything was done cautiously. No bending. No lifting. No sudden movements. Even standing for too long earned a firm look from Heeseung and a soft but final, “Sit. Please.”

Heeseung rarely strayed far. He worked from home when he could, stepped away from calls the second Jake shifted or sighed too deeply. He learned Jake’s tells quickly, the way his jaw tightened when he was uncomfortable, how his fingers fidgeted when anxiety crept in.

One afternoon, Heeseung appeared beside the couch with a mug of warm tea.

“Don’t even think about getting up,” he said lightly, setting it down on the coaster. His hand lingered on Jake’s arm, thumb brushing slow, calming patterns.

Jake exhaled, half a laugh, half a sigh. “I hate feeling like this. Like I can’t even do the basics.”

Heeseung crouched beside him. “You’re not helpless,” he said quietly. “You’re being careful. There’s a difference. Taking care of you is taking care of them too.”

Jake looked away, but the tension eased just a bit.

From the hallway, Sarang hovered, nine years old and suddenly very aware of everything. She held Layla carefully against her chest.

“Mommy,” she said softly, “do you want me to read to you? Yuna and Minseo are drawing, but I can be quiet.”

Jake smiled, genuine this time. “I’d like that, Sari.”

She climbed up beside him, careful not to bump his stomach, opening a picture book and leaning her head against his shoulder. Her voice was gentle as she read, slower than usual, as if she understood that everything needed to move at a calmer pace now.

A few minutes later, Yuna padded in, six years old, clutching a handful of crayons, with Minseo close behind, four and already curious about everything.

“Can we sit too?” Yuna asked. “We won’t be loud.”

Minseo nodded enthusiastically. “I can be super quiet.”

Heeseung smiled from the kitchen, grabbing a blanket. “Come on in.”

They piled on carefully, Sarang tucked close, Yuna leaning against Jake’s other side, Minseo sitting cross-legged at his feet. Layla curled up near Jake’s legs, while Ollie trotted through the room before settling with a huff beside the couch.

The house filled with soft voices and the scratch of crayons on paper. Jake rested back, Heeseung’s arm draped over his shoulders, grounding him whenever worry crept back in.

Some weeks were harder than others.

There were days Jake felt restless, frustrated by how still he had to be. Nights when he lay awake, listening to Heeseung breathe beside him, thoughts spiraling despite his best efforts. On those nights, Heeseung would reach for him without fully waking, hand warm and steady against his back or resting over his stomach, as if instinctively reminding him: you’re not alone.

The kids adapted in their own ways.

Sarang started drawing pictures labeled For the babies. Yuna would press her ear against Jake’s stomach and whisper stories. Minseo would announce proudly that he was “watching the couch” to make sure Mommy stayed put.

The dogs followed Jake everywhere he went, as if assigned the job of guarding him.

The fear never fully disappeared. It lingered in the background of every quiet moment. But over those weeks, it was softened by routine, by care, by the quiet, ordinary love of a family doing their best.

And in those moments, children piled close, dogs asleep at their feet, Heeseung’s steady presence anchoring him, Jake let himself believe that no matter what came next, they would face it together.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The first sign something has gone wrong is Minseo checking the time for the third time. He squints at his watch, then up at the school gates, then back at the watch again like it might change its mind. “Okay,” he says finally, backpack still slung over one shoulder. “It’s been twenty minutes. Either Mom and Dad lost track of time… or Dad got distracted by something important and distracted mom too.” Minseo's eyes dart around nervously, his fingers tapping against the strap of his backpack as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly impatient.

Yuna, leaning against the fence with her arms crossed, doesn’t even look up from her phone. “They never forget.” Her thumbs move swiftly over the screen, a slight smirk playing on her lips as she scrolls through her social media feed, oblivious to the growing tension.

“They absolutely forget,” Minseo argues, his voice rising slightly. “Dad forgets his own phone exists if it wasn't for mom.” He runs a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable as he glances around at the other students who are slowly dispersing, each one picked up by their parents or guardians.

“Hold on, I'll fix this,” Sarang says calmly, her voice cutting through the tension. That’s when Yuna looks up, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in Sarang's composed demeanor. Sarang is perched on the low brick wall by the pickup zone, one leg dangling, posture relaxed. Sixteen years old and already wearing the expression of someone who’s realized this problem now belongs to her. Her eyes scan the street once more, then exhale through her nose, a hint of exasperation in the gesture.

“How?” Yuna's brow furrows as she processes the situation, her phone forgotten in her hand.

Minseo straightens, his curiosity piqued. “What?”

Sarang slides off the wall, her movements deliberate and calm. “The only way I know how to.” Her voice is steady, but there's an undercurrent of urgency that makes everyone pause.

Haneul blinks up at her, his small face scrunched in confusion. “That means something bad, doesn’t it?”

Soeun grips his sleeve, her eyes wide with worry. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” Sarang says, already pulling out her phone. “Mom and Dad are.” Her fingers fly over the screen, texting with practiced efficiency, location, polite please and thank-you. Within minutes, the black car pulls up to the curb, its sleek design a stark contrast to the chaotic scene at the school gates as their family driver ushers the children inside the vehicle.

Soeun cheers, her earlier worry forgotten. “She fixed it!”

Minseo bows dramatically, a grin spreading across his face. “Once again, Sarang saves the day.” His relief is palpable.

The ride home is quieter than usual. Yuna scrolls through her phone, her earlier amusement replaced by a thoughtful frown. Minseo watches the houses blur past, his mind still racing with the day's events. The twins whisper about snacks and whether early dismissal means early dessert, their voices a soft murmur in the backseat.

Sarang watches the driveway come into view, that same uneasy feeling settling in her chest. The house looks normal, which is the problem. Inside, it’s quiet. Too quiet. No staff voices. No clinking dishes. No music. Not even Layla’s nails skittering across the floor. Yuna slips off her shoes, her movements hesitant. “Mom?”

Nothing.

“Dad?” she calls, her voice echoing in the empty house.

Still nothing.

Minseo lowers his voice, his eyes darting around the foyer. “Okay. That’s weird.”

Sarang tilts her head, her expression thoughtful. “Explain.”

“Like… no one yelling at us to take our shoes off weird.” Minseo's voice is barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and unease.

The twins exchange a look, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared sense of caution. “…That is weird,” Soeun whispers, her voice barely audible.

Haneul clutches his backpack strap, his knuckles white. “Where is everyone?”

Sarang doesn’t answer. She’s already walking down the hall, her steps purposeful and determined. They follow without thinking, their footsteps echoing in the silence.

The bedroom door at the end is closed. Sarang doesn’t knock. She never knocks. She pushes the door open, and freezes. Jake and Heeseung are tangled in the sheets, their bodies entwined in a way that leaves no room for misunderstanding. There’s one shared second of pure horror. Then Sarang screams.

“Oh my GOD, REALLY?! DURING DAYLIGHT?!” She slams both hands over her eyes and whips around, throwing her arms out wide like she’s blocking a disaster movie. “NOPE. TURN AROUND. EVERYONE TURN AROUND RIGHT NOW.”

“What, ?” Yuna yelps, her voice a mix of shock and confusion.

“DO NOT LOOK,” Sarang shouts, backing into her siblings. “THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.” She physically herds them backward, body fully between them and the room. Her movements are quick and efficient, her voice firm and unyielding.

Minseo stumbles, his eyes wide with shock. “WHY ARE YOU YELLING, ”

“HANDS ON EACH OTHER,” Sarang orders. “KEEP MOVING.” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the chaos.

Haneul trips, his small frame nearly tumbling over. “I didn’t see anything!”

“GOOD,” Sarang snaps. “STAY PURE.” She kicks the door shut behind her with her heel. SLAM. Inside the room, chaos erupts, rustling sheets, a sharp inhale.

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes, his voice barely audible.

“I thought you locked the door,” Heeseung says frantically, his words tumbling over each other.

“YOU DID NOT,” Sarang yells back, still staring very deliberately at the wall. “I WALKED RIGHT IN.” Her voice is a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

A beat. Then Jake, trying desperately to sound normal. “…Why are you all home?”

Sarang doesn’t turn. “School ended early. The driver had to pick us up.” Her voice is tight, her body language rigid.

Minseo adds, helpfully and doomed, “Because you forgot.” His words hang in the air, a stark reminder of their parents' oversight.

Sarang points at him without looking. “Stop helping.” Her voice is sharp, her frustration palpable.

The door cracks open just enough for Jake to peek out. His hair is unmistakably messed up. His face is bright red. He looks at Sarang like he’s asking for mercy. “Please,” he says quietly. “Take them to get snacks.”

The twins don’t hesitate. Soeun gasps. “Snacks!”

Yuna pauses, tilting her head. “Mommy… why is your face red?”

His innocent question hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the tension in the room.

Sarang screams again. “SNACKS. NOW.” Her voice is a mix of exasperation and desperation. They scatter, their footsteps echoing down the hall.

Sarang exhales, dragging her hands down her face. “You two,” she says to her mother and father standing at the door like they were caught red-handed (literally), “owe me everything.” Her voice is a mix of exasperation and resignation as she walks off.

Once the door is closed, Heeseung laughs helplessly. “She screamed like we committed a felony.” His laughter is a stark contrast to the tension in the room.

“We basically did,” Jake mutters, his voice muffled by the pillow he’s buried his face in. His body shakes with a mix of mortification and helpless laughter.

Heeseung is still laughing, shoulders shaking. “It’s a little funny.” His grin is wide and unapologetic.

Jake groans louder, his voice a mix of frustration and exasperation. “Don’t laugh,” he snaps. “This is not funny. We basically scarred her for life.”

Jake groans, his voice a mix of resignation and defeat as he stares at his husband and flings a pillow towards his head. Heeseung catches the pillow thrown at him, still smiling. “It’s a little funny.” His eyes sparkle with amusement, a stark contrast to Jake’s mortification. And the two laugh it off and pillow fight each other before having to go down to deal with the mess they've caused.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Jake was in labor for what felt like an eternity, his body aching and his mind racing with worry. The doctors had been monitoring him closely, but progress was painfully slow. After hours of pushing and no sign of the twins emerging, the atmosphere in the delivery room grew tense. The head doctor, a stern-faced woman with kind eyes, decided to check Jake one last time before making a crucial decision.

As her gloved hands probed gently, her brow furrowed. "Something's not right," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "The cord... It's wrapped around one of the twins' necks."

Jake's eyes widened in terror. "What? What does that mean? Fix it!" His voice cracked with desperation.

The doctor nodded solemnly. "We have to perform an emergency C-section. Now."

Panic surged through the room as the medical team sprang into action. They rushed Jake on a gurney toward the operating room, the sterile lights of the hospital corridor flashing by in a blur. Heeseung, Jake's husband, was close behind, his heart pounding with fear and love.

"Wait, you can't go in," a nurse halted Heeseung, her voice firm but gentle. "You're not allowed in the OR."

Heeseung's eyes filled with tears. "Let me at least tell him I love him," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

The nurse relented, stepping aside. Heeseung rushed to Jake's side, their hands finding each other in a desperate grip. They held on tightly, their fingers intertwined, as if trying to pour all their love and strength into each other through that single point of contact.

Jake started to speak, his voice trembling. "Heeseung, if something happens to me, "

Heeseung cut him off with a fierce, passionate kiss, their tears mingling. When he pulled away, he cupped Jake's face, his thumbs brushing away the wetness. "I'll be waiting for you when you get out. I love you," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to Jake's forehead.

Jake nodded, his grip on Heeseung's shirt tightening as the orderlies began to wheel him away. Heeseung stopped the doctor briefly, his voice barely audible. "Try and save all of them. But if you can't save Jake..."

The doctor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'll do my best."

Inside the operating room, the air was thick with tension and the sterile scent of antiseptic. The surgical team worked with precision, their movements swift and coordinated The pressure shifts.

There’s movement, urgent, practiced, and then suddenly the weight on Jake’s chest feels lighter. He hears it before he understands it. A cry. Thin, sharp, real.

“A baby girl,” the doctor announces.

Jake sobs immediately.

They lift her just enough for him to see, small, pink, squirming, fists clenched like she’s already angry at the world. Tears spill down his temples into his hairline, his breath hitching so hard it almost hurts.

“Oh, oh my god,” Jake whispers, voice wrecked. “Hi. Hi, baby…”

Another rush of movement.

“And a boy.”

Another cry, weaker but there. Alive. Fighting.

They show him his son too, tiny, fragile, perfect. Jake laughs and cries at the same time, chest heaving, tears blurring everything until all he can see are shapes and light and the overwhelming knowledge that they’re here.

“My babies,” he breathes. “They’re here.”

“They’re beautiful,” the doctor says gently as the NICU team moves in. “You did so well, Jake.”

He watches them be whisked away, his heart trying to follow, panic rising again as the space around him feels suddenly too empty.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Please take care of them.”

“We will,” a nurse assures him. “They’re strong.”

The curtain shifts back. The lights feel harsher now. Colder.

The doctor leans over him again as they begin closing. “You have beautiful babies, Jake. You can rest now. We’re almost done.”

He nods weakly, trying to breathe through the ache, the exhaustion pressing down like a wave he can’t fight anymore.

But then,

Something feels wrong.

His vision blurs at the edges. The lights smear. The room tilts, like it’s slipping sideways. His mouth feels numb, heavy.

“I, ” His tongue doesn’t move right. “I… can’t…”

“Jake?” the doctor’s voice sharpens. “Jake, stay with me.”

The words feel far away. Like they’re coming through water.

His chest tightens. His heart races, then stumbles.

“Blood pressure’s dropping,” someone says, too calm, too fast. “We’ve got a problem.”

The doctor’s face comes into view, closer now. Serious. Focused. “Jake, look at me.”

He tries. His eyelids feel too heavy.

“Hey,” she says firmly. “I need you to stay with me, okay? For your babies.”

The words echo strangely.

Babies.

“For Heeseung,” she adds, voice stronger. “Stay with me for him.”

He tries to answer. He wants to say I love him. He wants to say tell him I tried. But the words slide away, dissolving before they reach his mouth.

Everything goes muffled.

Hands press on him. Voices overlap.

“We’re losing him, ”

“Get anesthesia, ”

“Now, ”

“Jake,” the doctor says one last time, loud and urgent. “Stay with me, ”

Darkness crashes in.

“Put him under. NOW.”

And then there is nothing.

The twins were being rolled away, bundled in warm blankets, their tiny cries echoing faintly against the sterile walls. Heeseung walked alongside the NICU transport team, his hand lightly resting on the edge of the incubator as if he could shield them from the world with his touch. Every step felt surreal, each echoing wheel on the polished floor sending his heart hammering.

When the babies disappeared behind the double doors to the NICU, Heeseung stayed for a moment, letting the weight of the moment sink in. He hadn’t been allowed in for Jake, hadn’t been allowed to see him yet, but he clung to the hope that his husband was alive, that he’d make it through.

Minutes later, a doctor approached, her stride measured, face grim. Something about the way she held herself made Heeseung’s chest tighten instantly. His stomach dropped.

“No… no, oh god, no,” he whispered under his breath, his knees weakening as dread clawed through him. “Jake?”

The doctor reached out immediately, steadying him by the shoulders. “Heeseung, look at me. He’s alive. Your husband is alive.”

Heeseung’s body sagged, relief and terror warring against each other, tears pricking his eyes as he clung to her for support. “He… he’s, he’s okay?” His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

The doctor’s eyes softened slightly, though the seriousness lingered. “He’s stable now, but it was touch-and-go once the babies were out. His preeclampsia was severe, and he lost a lot of blood because we found a bleeder. We did everything we could to save him, and we did. But…”

Heeseung’s grip on the doctor tightened, his knuckles white. “…but what?”

The doctor’s sigh was heavy. “His fallopian tubes were heavily impacted. We had to remove them to save him. That means he won’t be able to get pregnant again.”

Heeseung froze, pain shooting through him, but his gaze was immediately drawn back to Jake, alive. “He… he’s okay? He’ll… be okay?”

“Yes,” the doctor affirmed, voice steady. “He’ll be okay. He’ll still have heats, his scent won’t change, nothing else is compromised. He’s going to recover, but it was a close call. You need to know the truth, he fought hard, and we fought with him.”

Heeseung exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his chest, tears streaming freely. Relief, gratitude, and guilt crashed together in an overwhelming wave. “Thank… thank God…” he murmured, voice trembling. “Thank God he’s okay.”

The doctor gave a small, reassuring nod. “He’s a fighter. You did your part by staying calm. He’s alive, and he’s strong. He’ll make it through this.”

Heeseung nodded slowly, swallowing hard, the weight of fear still clinging to him, but the knowledge that Jake was alive, alive, anchoring him, keeping him steady.

Jake wakes to darkness.

Not the deep, empty kind, but the muted kind, the kind that hums quietly with machines and distant footsteps. Thin slivers of light peek through the gap in the blinds, pale lines cutting across the far wall. His body feels heavy, like he’s been poured back into himself wrong. Every breath aches. Every thought comes slow.

“Hyung…” he mumbles, voice dry, barely sound at all.

Nothing.

His lashes flutter. He turns his head just enough to see the recliner beside the bed, and there he is.

Heeseung is slumped in the chair, hoodie wrinkled, head tipped awkwardly to the side, arms crossed like he never meant to fall asleep and just… couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. There are dark shadows under his eyes, his face slack with exhaustion.

Jake’s chest tightens.

He tries to move. Instantly regrets it. Pain blooms sharp and unforgiving through his abdomen, stealing the breath from his lungs. He gasps softly, hand twitching uselessly against the sheets.

“Hyung,” he tries again. It comes out hoarse. Fragile.

Still nothing.

Panic flickers, small, instinctive. He turns his head, spots the tissue box on the bedside table. With clumsy fingers and a weak grunt of effort, he nudges it, then swipes.

The box tips, then falls.

Thunk.

Heeseung jolts awake like he’s been shocked, hands flying up, eyes wild as he scans the room. “Jake?”
Heeseung’s voice breaks immediately. He’s on his feet in seconds, crossing the space like he’s afraid Jake might disappear again if he blinks. “Oh, oh baby. You’re awake. You’re awake.”

He leans over the bed, careful, reverent, pressing a kiss to Jake’s forehead like it’s instinct, like muscle memory. Jake lets out a shaky breath and fumbles weakly for him, fingers catching in the fabric of Heeseung’s hoodie, tugging him closer.

Heeseung cups his face, thumbs brushing gently under Jake’s eyes, over his cheeks, like he needs to confirm he’s real. “Hey. Hey, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Jake swallows. His voice scrapes when he finally manages, “How… how long?”

Heeseung exhales slowly. “…Two days.”

Jake’s eyes widen slightly. “Two?”

“They kept you sedated,” Heeseung says quietly. “Your body needed time. You lost a lot of blood, Jaeyun. They didn’t want you waking up too soon.”

There’s a pause. Too long.

Jake notices it immediately.

“And…?” His fingers tighten weakly in Heeseung’s hoodie. Fear seeps into his voice. “And what, hyung?”

Heeseung’s jaw flexes.

Jake’s breathing speeds up, panic pushing through the haze. “Where, where are my babies?” His voice cracks, words tumbling out faster now. “What happened? Are they, are they okay?”

Heeseung leans in closer, pressing his forehead to Jake’s. His hands frame Jake’s face, steady, grounding. “They’re okay,” he says firmly. “Hey. Look at me. They’re okay.”

Jake’s eyes shine, tears spilling over. “You promise?”

“I swear to you,” Heeseung says, voice thick. “They’re alive. Both of them. They’re in the NICU right now because they came early and they’re smaller than expected, but they’re strong. They’re fighters, just like you.”

Jake sobs softly, relief crashing over him so hard it hurts. His body shakes as Heeseung gathers him carefully, lifting just enough to pull Jake’s head against his chest, mindful of every wire, every sore place.

After a moment, Jake shifts faintly, like another thought has surfaced through the fog.

“…The kids,” he whispers suddenly, eyes fluttering open again. Panic flickers there, sharp and immediate. “Sarang, Yuna, Minseo, did they, do they know? Where are they?”

Heeseung pulls back just enough to look at him, immediately gentle again. “Hey. They’re okay.”

Jake searches his face desperately. “They are?”

“They’re fine,” Heeseung assures him. “Our parents are with them at the house. They’ve been taking turns staying over so everything feels normal for them. I’m getting updates constantly.”

Jake exhales, shaky, relief loosening something in his chest. “They must be scared.”

“They are,” Heeseung admits softly. “But they’re being brave. Sarang especially.”

That earns a weak, breathless laugh from Jake. “Of course she is.”

Heeseung smiles faintly. “She keeps calling me. Texting too. Asking if I’m sure everything’s okay. She keeps checking that her grandparents aren’t lying to her.” His voice warms, fond and tired all at once. “She says she misses you. They all do.”

Jake’s throat tightens. “I miss them.”

“I know,” Heeseung murmurs. “They want to come see you. The doctors said it might be okay once you’re a little stronger, short visits. I might bring them by while you’re recovering.”

Jake nods faintly, tears slipping free. “I’d like that.”

“There’s… something else,” Heeseung says after a moment, fingers carding gently through Jake’s hair. “The doctors want to keep you here until the end of the week. Just to make sure you’re healing properly. They want to be absolutely sure nothing else is wrong before they send you home.”

Jake swallows, then nods again. “Okay.”

Heeseung presses a kiss into his hair. “We’ll get through it. You don’t have to rush. You just have to heal.”

Jake relaxes into him, exhausted but steadier now, reassured by the quiet certainty in Heeseung’s voice.

After a few breaths, Heeseung adds softly, “There’s… something else the doctor told me while you were asleep.”

Jake stiffens faintly. “What is it?”

Heeseung takes a breath. “You had complications. The preeclampsia, the bleeding… they had to remove your fallopian tubes to stop it.” His voice wavers but stays steady. “It means we won’t be able to have more kids.”

Jake goes still.

Then, quietly, almost too quietly, “That’s it?”

Heeseung blinks. “What?”

Jake’s lips tremble. “I thought… I thought you were going to say something worse.”

Heeseung laughs weakly, tears spilling now. “Jaeyun, I thought I lost you. I stood in that hallway and thought, ” His voice breaks completely. “If that’s all you had to lose, I’ll take it. I’d give up every dream of more kids a thousand times if it meant you stayed.”

Jake reaches up, weak but determined, touching Heeseung’s face, brushing away tears with his thumb. “I’m still here.”

“I know,” Heeseung whispers, pulling him close again. “And that’s all I care about.”

Jake closes his eyes, breathing him in, anchoring himself to the steady heartbeat beneath his cheek.

“…Can I see them?” he murmurs.

Heeseung smiles through tears. “As soon as you’re ready. I’ll take you. I promise.”

And for the first time since waking up, Jake believes him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Heeseung’s parents’ house looks like something out of a magazine spread, or a corporate gala that accidentally collided with a family reunion.

Cars line the long driveway. The backyard glows with string lights and heaters despite the season, tables dressed in linen and glass, laughter carrying over music that’s just loud enough to feel festive without drowning conversation. Family friends, extended relatives, former employees, current executives, people who once called Heeseung’s father sir now raising champagne flutes and telling stories like they’ve known him forever.

Even the dogs are here.

Layla is sprawled regally under one of the tables like she owns the place. Ollie has somehow charmed three strangers into petting him at once. There’s a second corgi Jake doesn’t recognize weaving through legs like it was invited too.

It’s grand. Loud. Warm.

And suddenly,

Jake freezes.

He scans the room again. Slowly. Carefully.

No Sarang.
No Yuna.
No Minseo.
No twins darting between adults like loose confetti.

His smile fades.

He checks near the dessert table. Then the patio doors. Then the cluster of kids he doesn’t recognize playing tag near the hedge.

Nothing.

Jake turns, already moving through the crowd with purpose, when he nearly collides with a familiar chest.

“There you are,” Heeseung says, relief flickering across his face before it softens into something playful. “I was looking for you.”

Jake exhales. “Have you seen the kids?”

Heeseung blinks. “Uh, no. I thought they were with you.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “I thought they were with you.”

A beat.

Then Heeseung’s mouth curves into a grin that Jake knows far too well.

“Well,” he says casually, stepping closer, lowering his voice, “since everyone’s distracted… I don’t think anyone would notice if we magically disappeared upstairs for a bit.”

Jake stares at him.

Heeseung lifts an eyebrow. Then the other. Very pointedly.

“…Hyung,” Jake says flatly. “Ew. No. Absolutely not. Not in your parents’ house.”

Heeseung’s shoulders visibly deflate. “Wow. That’s hurtful.”

“You grew up here,” Jake adds. “That makes it worse.”

“That has literally never stopped you before.”

Jake scoffs. “There are over a hundred people here.”

“So?” Heeseung shrugs. “Adds excitement.”

“I am busy.”

“With what?” Heeseung asks, genuinely curious.

Jake gestures vaguely around them. “Looking for our children. The ones who are missing.”

That sobers him immediately.

“Oh.” Heeseung straightens. “Right. Yeah. That’s, okay, that’s more important.”

They fall into step together, weaving through guests, Jake scanning faces while Heeseung cranes his neck over shoulders.

“Sarang probably took them somewhere quiet,” Heeseung offers. “She does that when it gets overwhelming.”

“Without telling us?” Jake mutters.

“She gets that from you.”

Jake shoots him a look. “I do not disappear without warning.”

“You absolutely do.”

They pass the dining room, empty except for abandoned coats. The hallway toward the study. The staircase.

They check the sunroom first.

Empty, just abandoned coats draped over chairs and half-finished drinks sweating onto coasters.

Jake pauses in the doorway, listening.

Nothing.

No laughter. No arguing. No familiar chaos.

His stomach tightens.

“They were just here,” Heeseung says, scanning the room, already turning in a slow circle like maybe the kids will materialize if he looks hard enough.

“They weren’t,” Jake replies, sharper than he means to. “I would’ve seen them.”

Heeseung frowns. “I thought Sarang said they were grabbing snacks.”

“She said earlier,” Jake says. “That was at least twenty minutes ago.”

They move faster now, through the hallway, past the dining room, into the living area where people are still laughing and talking and completely unaware that Jake’s blood pressure is climbing by the second.

“Okay,” Heeseung says calmly. Too calmly. “Let’s not panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You’re doing the thing with your jaw.”

Jake shoots him a look. “I do not have a thing with my jaw.”

“You do it when you’re stressed.”

“Well maybe I’m stressed because I can’t find our five children at a party with over a hundred people.”

“They’re older,” Heeseung counters. “They know the house. They know the rules.”

“They also know how to disappear,” Jake snaps. “Especially Sarang.”

Heeseung exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve checked sooner.”

“Yes,” Jake says immediately. Then pauses. “…I should’ve too.”

They stop near the back doors, both scanning the yard through the glass, string lights, people mingling, dogs weaving between legs.

No kids.

The silence between them sharpens.

“This is exactly why I hate big parties,” Jake mutters.

“And this is exactly why I told you they’d be fine,” Heeseung replies, not unkindly but defensively. “You can’t hover forever.”

“I’m not hovering, I’m parenting.”

“And I am also parenting.”

They’re both breathing harder now, tension buzzing low and familiar, the kind that only comes from shared fear.

That’s when a soft voice cuts in.

“Mr. Heeseung? Mr. Jake?”

They both turn.

One of the staff members, older, calm, clearly used to chaos, stands nearby with a polite smile.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says, “but I think you’re looking for the kids?”

Jake straightens instantly. “Yes. Have you seen them?”

She nods. “About ten minutes ago. They were all heading toward the back property.”

Heeseung blinks. “The, ”

“The old treehouse,” she clarifies gently. “Sarang was leading. The twins were very excited.”

Jake closes his eyes.

“Of course she was.”

Heeseung lets out a breath, relief and disbelief colliding. “They went there?”

“Yes,” the staff member says. “They looked… very organized.”

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose. “That somehow makes it worse.”

Heeseung suppresses a smile. “It really does.”

They’re already moving before she finishes speaking, steps quick, side by side again, tension easing but not gone.

They don’t announce themselves. They just pause in the doorway of the old treehouse, arms crossed, shoulder to shoulder, watching.

Inside, Sarang is in her element.

She stands near the narrow window where sunlight filters through the leaves, hands braced on the wooden railing like she’s presenting a museum exhibit. Yuna leans against one of the beams, nodding along like this is a lecture she’s heard a hundred times but still finds entertaining. Minseo, Haneul, and Soeun sit cross-legged on the floor, rapt.

“And this,” Sarang says solemnly, sweeping her arm around, “was their hideaway.”

Minseo’s eyes widen. “Like… no adults allowed?”

“Exactly,” Sarang says. “Except Mom. Eventually.”

Yuna snorts.

Sarang continues, undeterred. “Dad was sad because Grandma and Grandpa didn’t take him to Lotte World. He was up here being all dramatic about it.”

Haneul gasps. “Dad gets dramatic?”

“Yes,” Sarang and Yuna say at the same time.

“And Mom,” Sarang goes on, warming up now, “came up here to drag him out because he was supposed to play with him. Dad said no. Straight up ignored him.”

Jake’s eyebrow twitches.

Sarang paces. “Mom just kept talking. Like, talking talking. Dad tried to ignore him, but Mom wouldn’t stop, and eventually he got through to him. Dad talked. And then, ” she smiles, proud of this part, “Dad laughed.”

There’s a beat of reverent silence from the younger kids.

“So basically,” Minseo says slowly, “Mom won.”

“Yes,” Sarang says. “Mom always wins.”

Behind her, Heeseung leans down slightly, voice low. “I don’t remember it happening like that.”

Jake doesn’t even look at him. He scoffs quietly. “She’s putting it lightly. You were way worse. A little alpha terror, if memory serves me right.”

Heeseung hums, amused. “And yet.”

He leans in closer, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for Jake.
“Looks like you liked me being a little terror.” His hands settle at Jake’s lower back, familiar and warm. “Look at you now, happily married to me, my omega.”

Jake rolls his eyes, but his mouth betrays him, softening into a smile. He rises onto his toes without thinking, arms sliding around Heeseung’s shoulders, forehead brushing his jaw. Their scents bloom gently in the enclosed space, comforting, familiar, unmistakably home.

Inside the treehouse, Yuna is mid-sentence. “, and Dad was grumpy for like, a whole week after, ”

Jake clears his throat.

Five heads whip around at once.

There’s a frozen second.

Sarang’s eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

Minseo scrambles upright. “WHEN DID YOU GET HERE?”

Haneul squeaks. Soeun hides her face in Yuna’s arm.

Jake tilts his head, expression unreadable. “So,” he says pleasantly, “this is where everyone went.”

Heeseung smiles, slow, knowing. “Family meeting?”

Sarang groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I knew we shouldn’t have used the sentimental spot.”

Jake steps fully inside, crossing his arms now, but there’s fondness threaded through the mock sternness. “You remembered all that?”

Sarang shrugs, suddenly shy. “You tell it every year.”

Heeseung blinks. “We do?”

“Yes,” Yuna says. “Usually when you think we’re not listening.”

A beat.

Jake exhales, shaking his head, then smiles despite himself. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s head back before someone starts a, ”

“I think they’re about to cut the cake,” Heeseung interrupts with a grin.

At the mention of cake, the kids practically leap from the floor, squealing, racing past them down the ladder and out toward the yard.

Jake and Heeseung exchange a look, part exasperation, part amusement, both hearts warm at the chaos.

Sarang lingers at the doorway for a moment longer, then turns back. She runs toward them, throws her arms around both of their waists, burying her face against their chests. She squeezes tightly, and her voice trembles just slightly.

“You know,” she whispers, looking up with glimmering eyes, “it makes sense you fell in love here. There’s just something about this place… I don’t know what it is. Thank you for everything, Mom and Dad. I love you guys so much.”

She kisses each of their cheeks quickly, then spins and bolts after her siblings, leaving Jake and Heeseung standing in stunned silence.

Heeseung wraps his arms around Jake’s waist, tugging him close. “Wow,” he murmurs softly, voice full of warmth. “She’s really growing up.”

Jake leans into the embrace, blinking back tears. “I can’t believe she said that,” he whispers.

They walk slowly to the treehouse window, peeking out to see the rest of the kids tumbling down the ladder, Yuna holding Minseo’s hand, Haneul and Soeun giggling as they chase after the mention of cake. The yard is a blur of movement and laughter, their voices echoing with that perfect chaos only children can make.

Jake leans his forehead against Heeseung’s chest, letting himself melt into the warmth of his husband, while Heeseung rests his chin on top of Jake’s head, just holding him. For a moment, it’s silent except for the wind in the trees and the distant shouts of their children.

Jake smirks slightly, glancing up at Heeseung. “Just think, if you had actually gone to Lotte World that day, you would have never met me.”

Heeseung smiles, tilting his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe… we would have found our way toward each other, one way or another.”

Jake closes his eyes, letting the memories wash over him, the tiny treehouse, the secrets they shared there, the very first sparks of what would become a lifetime. “I guess some things were meant to be,” he murmurs.

Heeseung squeezes him gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Always, my omega. Always.”

From the window, they watch the children dart and tumble through the yard, the dogs chasing after them, the sunlight catching the laughter in their hair. The moment feels suspended in time, memories of the past, joy of the present, and the unspoken promise of the future all wrapped together.

Through the laughter of their children, the warm sun spilling over the treehouse, and the quiet press of Heeseung’s arms around him, Jake felt the full weight of everything they had endured, the fear, the pain, the nights of uncertainty, the moments of doubt and helplessness. Every struggle, every tear, every heartbeat that had threatened to break them, had led them here: to this chaotic, imperfect, beautiful life. The love they had fought for, nurtured, and protected now surrounded them in every smile, every shout, every tiny hand grasping theirs. And as Jake rested against Heeseung, the scent of their family, the sound of their children, and the warmth of the moment filling every corner of their hearts, he knew without a doubt that it had all been worth it. Because in the end, through every storm and every shadow, they had found their way home, to each other, and to a love that would hold them forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧