WARNINGS : just super angsty, 18+ nsfw, a lot of death and violence, suffering, sad backstories, unprotected sex (be smart!), song mingi is super mean but slowly breaks, reader is CUNTY, misogynistic people, stereotypes, etc (Let me know if I missed anything~)
WORD COUNT: 6.5K
SYNOPSIS : Emperor Song Mingi of the kingdom of Dune, a ruthless tyrant ruler, is bound in an arranged alliance to Princess of the kingdom of Eden. What begins as a bitter coalition, marked by sharp words and cold silences, slowly shifts after a near-fatal event. Forced to depend on each other for survival, they begin to confront the unspoken tension between them as they face the looming war. In the chaos of their crumbling world, they find themselves navigating a delicate balance of power, trust, and fragile connection. Will the war tear them apart or will destiny give them way to a new beginning?
[This isnât proofread btw! Ignore spelling errors for my sake ;(]
CHAPTER 1
The carriage rattled as you leaned back, resting your head against the wall, staring into the endless abyss of darkness that swallowed the forest whole. Your thoughts consumed your mind, fidgeting with your fingers as your eyebrows creased. âPrincess?â The voice pulled you out of your trance. You glanced to your side, your advisor and bodyguard stared at you with concern written all over his face. âAre you feeling alright my highness?â His voice low and comforting. âIâm alright.. just thinking.â You gave him a small smile.
He nodded, not wanting to press into the matter. He leaned back, sighing. âAre you worried?â He asked, looking outside the window, the moonlight glazing his pale skin. âIâm not. I have to learn how to take care of matters in my own hands. Are you worried for me Jaemin?â You smirked slightly. âNot even the slightest. I know youâll do well.â Jaemin looked back at you, showing off his pearly whites with his dimple smile. âBut get some sleep yeah? Canât have them see you tired and weak.â You nodded and turned to the window, watching the dark scenery and slowly drifted off to sleep.
You woke up abruptly, Jaeminâs hand on your shoulder, shaking you softly. âPrincess wake up, we have arrived..â His voice slightly rough as he guided you out of the carriage. The cold air hit you like whiplash. But that wasnât the only thing that was cold. You glanced over to your side, the view of the dark, ominous castle sending shivers down your spine. It was tall with pointed roofs, guards at each tower, a flag representing the kingdom of Dune flapping steadily as the wind moved.
Jaemin looked at you, his eyebrows creased. âAre you okay princess?â You gave him a reassuring smile earning a nod from him. The sound of the huge castle doors opening attracted both of your attention as you turned to look. Jaemin stood beside you protectively, his hand on his sword, ready for anything. You stood up straight, wanting to seem more intimidating but the tremble in your breath showed otherwise. Out came soldiers, running in sync as they forming a path for him. You let out a breath you didnât even know you held back as he approached the entrance.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The soldiers stomped their boots on the ground in a synchronised manner, âThe Emperor has arrived!â One of them yelled out. You frowned slightly and looked towards the doors of the castle. There stood him and two men following closely behind. Your eyes fixed on him, as though some magnetic force were present. It was as if you were caught in the eye of a storm, terrified almost but cannot look away. Your eyes bore on his features almost mesmerised by it.
A towering figure with sleek, blonde hair slicked back, a few strands framing his sharp, chiseled face. His jawline is strong, and his prominent nose adds to his commanding presence. His full, plump lips and a scar through his right eyebrow only enhance the intensity of his piercing brown eyes. Broad shoulders and a slim waist are accentuated by his fitted oriental jacket and pants, which cling to his muscular thighs and biceps. As he moves, his black-and-white robe flows, each long step effortless, his gaze cutting through the crowd of soldiers with quiet power and confidence.
You sucked in a breath as his made his way to you. He finally stood in front of you, his height intimidating your own as he looked down, eyes burning with intensity. He extended his arm for a handshake. âSong Mingi. Emperor of Dune.â His deep raspy voice cut through the tension, face still stoic as ever. You took his hand in a firm handshake. âY/n L/n. Princess of Eden.â You addressed back politely, earning a nod from Mingi.
âFollow meâ Mingi said, turning around and walked towards the doors, you and Jaemin quickly fell in step with his as you approached the entrance. He walked you both through the castle, giving you a brief tour and introduction to the palace. Although you must say that the palace does not look as intimidating from inside as it does from the outside. Mingi finally led you to the meeting room. You were greeted by ministers from both Dune and Eden.
Jaemin guided you to the end of the long wooden table, standing right beside you as you got comfortable in your seat. Mingi sat right opposite to you, his bodyguards or whoever standing in each side. He then cleared his throat, earning the attention of the table. âThe Princess has finally arrived. Letâs get into business now shall we?â He said, cutting through the silence as the ministers nodded in agreement.
âMy highness, our deepest apologies for the absence of our Queen. She seems to have been.. stuck in Ming for now.â One of your ministers spoke up, bowing his head slightly in the direction of Mingi. âNo worries. I still have the Princess to negotiate with.â He said, glancing over at you. Your fingers fidgeted with your skirt underneath the table, your nervousness going unnoticed by almost everyone.
âThe Cold War is approaching soon. Dune and Eden seem to be the only allies of the region of Hala which is the north. Since Eden is closer to the borders of the southeast.. itâs more prone for attacks. Iâm assuming everyone here knows about this?â Mingi announced to the room, the men around the table nodded slowly, drinking in the known but feared information.
âIt is unsafe for our citizens. Ever since the assassination of the king.. the military arms have been inactive and less reliable. Since the truce of Eden and Dune, our people have slowly been shifting into this kingdom. It is only fair someone in power also rules over here to take care of them.â You declared, earning nods and yesâs from around the table. You met Mingiâs eyes, he seemed to be in thought as you noticed his fingers tapping the surface lightly. Then he leaned back, resting his arms upon the table.
âIn that case.. the princess will reside here.. she is still young and needs to learn how to become strong. By just looking at her we can see she is still weak and dependent on the Queen and it would be a shame for her to be pushed away.. the princess has potential which I can see and adore. This decision is being taken in regard of both kingdoms, for the safety and wellness of the people. The princess can come back stronger and intelligent to easily take over as the Queen and rule over Eden prosperously.â
Your ministers gasped softly. âBut-but my lord.. sheâs our only heir.. we need our people to also have eyes on her and guide her properly.. the Queen would-.â One of your people cried out. âOh donât be silly. She is in perfect hands here. Our people are highly trained, intelligent and capable to handle the princessâ needs and affairs. And besides I will be by her side. At all times.â Mingi leaned back in his seat, hands resting on the table as his gaze fixated on you. You clenched your jaw, glaring back at the blonde man. Jaemin sighed deeply beside you.
âBut letâs say.. the council and I.. agree to this arrangement. But ultimately the choice lies in the hands of my mother. The Queen-.â â âOh donât you worry about that, The Queen had already sent me her approval letter and statement.â Mingi cut you off, grabbing the booklet one of the men beside him pulled out and slid it towards you. You grabbed the booklet and went through every single word, trying to find a clause or forgery signs.. but it truly was the real deal.
âBelievable enough for you my princess?â Mingiâs voice all high and teasing with a smug expression on his face. Oh the way you wanted to slap it off of him. âSo I guess this concludes the meeting. I will arrange your return. You may have the rest of the evening for goodbyes.â Mingi stood up and dismissed the room, walking out with his ministers and soldiers while your people sat dumbfounded. They all looked at you with pity and remorse written all over their faces, even Jaeminâs. But suddenly, You stood up abruptly, startling the men.
âMy people.. I know that many of you have feared what this moment means for me, and for our people. It may seem as if I am being sold off, my presence traded for the sake of diplomacy and fragile promises of peace. But hear this clearly, I am not gone.
I may be leaving our castle, our land, and the very soil that raised me. But my heart will remain with you. I am still your princess, your ally, your voice.. I will carry our kingdom with me in every word, every decision, and every action I take. I will learn, I will grow, and one day, I will return. When that day comes, we will be stronger than ever before, and this kingdom will flourish like never before.â
Your voice echoed through the silent room, every person looking at you with newly found astonishment and gratitude. You bowed deeply for your people and walked out, Jaemin following closely behind you. âMy princess.. that was amazing. Y-you absolutely nailed that!â Jaemin exclaimed happily, grabbing your shoulders, spinning you to face him. âYour highness! Iâm so excited for what comes for us next I cannot wait to adventure this with you-.â â ahem ahem. You and Jaemin whipped your head towards the sound. There stood Mingi ans his two bodyguards behind him. âAm I interrupting something?â Mingi said with annoyance as he glared at the both of you. Jaemin immediately let go of your shoulders and stood protectively.
âNo my lord.â You bowed your head down in respect. âI hope you said your goodbyes, wouldnât want you to regret anything in the morning my princess.â Mingi grinned smugly. âYou donât have to worry about that.â You scoffed. âShow me to my dorm please.â You insisted. Mingi nodded and began walking down the long hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing. You fell in step beside him, the height difference made him smirk slightly.
âThis is where you will reside Princess. My dorm is right above yours. If you need anything.. let one of the hall members know.â Mingi nodded and turned to leave. âWait! W-what about him?â You called out, glancing over at Jaemin. Mingi stopped in his tracks, turning his head, glancing over at you from behind his shoulder. âHe will be gone by tomorrow. No need for his room.â You scoffed. âIâm sorry? He wonât be accommodating me anymore?â Your eyes burnt holes in the back of his head. âLike I said princess. My people will be more than enough for your needs. Say your goodbyes and head to sleep.â Mingi stated and left the room, leaving you burning with rage.
âPrincess-.â â âHow dare he! Heâs.. heâs cutting me off from my-.â Jaemin cupped your face, calming you down. âMy princess. Please calm down. Your mother wanted this for a long time. She wanted you to be independent and strong enough to handle anything that comes your way. The Queen told me-.âââYou knew!? You knew and didnât tell me Jae? I- I thought you trusted me! You promised to tell me everything!â You cried out, punching at his armoured chest. âMy sweet Y/n.. I had to hide this. For your sake. The Queen and I both knew you would refuse and throw tantrums if brought up earlier.. Iâm sorry my princess.â Jaemin sniffed, tears filling his eyes. âGod.. what do I do without you jae?â You sobbed, laying your forehead on his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Jaemin patted your head softly, his other hand resting on the small of your back.
âRemember when we were younger.. youâd chase around small animals with your poorly made leaf dagger in order to âprotectâ me?â Jaemin chuckled, his chin resting on the top of your head. You sniffled a laugh. âGod I was such a foolish child.â You snorted.
âYou surely were. But you were brave and strong. You still are.. I will always remember the time you saved that small peasant boy from drowning in the stream. I hadnât even known you could swim!ââ
âIt was an impulse! I didnât want him to die.. Iâm not cruel you know.â You pouted and Jaemin pulled back slightly to cup your face, his thumb wiping away tears that left your eyes.
âY/n, Iâve known you all my live. Iâve seen your good and your bad and youâve seen mine. If little you could try and scare away little critters that try to âhurtâ me using a small leaf or if you could instinctively save a life then imagine the wonders you can do now. Youâre strong, intelligent, capable of making your own decisions without hesitation or influence, and your sweet, kind and caring.â
Jaemin smiled at you, his adorable boyish smile that you loved. âI think you have seen the state of this kingdom. Cold, ominous and just utterly pathetic. Show them the light Y/n. Be the light that guides these poor people from the dark.â He said, his voice low and comforting. You nodded, holding tight at his waist, not wanting to let go of him. Jaemin placed a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling back.
âI will miss you my princess. Always remember to reach out whenever youâre distressed or just need to chit chat.â He said, reached out to pat your shoulder. âI will miss you too jae. Donât forget me!â You teased making him chuckle. âNever.â He whispered before bowing down deeply and walked out of the room, sparing you some alone time.
You stood there, staring at the door he just left through. You felt incomplete without Jaemin by your side. You slowly made your way towards the bed, sliding under the covers and sobbed yourself to sleep, not wanted to wake up the next day to see them leave you in this foreign, cold land.
You stood beside Mingi, your nails scratching the inner corners of your fingers anxiously as you watched the ministers enter the carriages. Your eyes fell on Jaemin as he helped one of the older ministers into the carriage. When he finally met your eyes, he shot you a knowing nod as he climbed into the carriage, making you smile slightly. The castle gates began to open, the sound echoing through the vast valleys and mountains. You let out a sigh and looking down, not wanting to witness the departure. After a while you heard the sounds of the gates closing. You looked up with teary eyes, no one was there anymore. Just you.
âDo you need a day for yourself princess?â His voice called out for you. You turned to your side, Mingi looking down at you, his expression unreadable. âNo Iâll be alright. Letâs get started.â Mingi seemed to hesitate a bit before nodding and lead you back into the palace. âI have appointed you a guard and advisor. They will be by your side and report to you only. Letâs go meet them now shall we?â Mingi asked politely. He seems to be weirdly nicer today. You thought to yourself. You nodded at him and he lead you to his office.
The large wooden door creaked open as Mingi pushed through it, holding it open for you to enter. Inside the room 4 men resided. Two of them you recognised as Mingis bodyguards and the other two unidentified. âThis is Choi Jongho, army general. He will be your bodyguard, protecting and training you and by your side every step of the day.â Mingi said, gesturing at the man, now called Jongho. Jongho stepped forward, bowing his head in respect. âGeneral Choi at your service princess.â You bowed down to him, smiling softly.
âThis is Jung Wooyoung. He will be your advisor. Any questions or concerns, you can tell him, any errands to be ran, heâs by your side. At all times.â Mingi gestured to the other man, wooyoung. Wooyoung was a bit shorter than the rest, his black hair slick back and eyes a bit asymmetrical but still pretty. Wooyoung stepped forward, extending his arm for a handshake you thought. âJung Wooyoung at your service my princess.â He smirked, you placed your hand in his, watching as he brought the back of your palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss. You smiled, nodding.
âCut it out. These are my men. Jeong Yunho and Choi San. If Iâm not available you can reach out to them as well.â Mingi rolled his eyes in annoyance, earning a snicker from Wooyoung. âAny questions princess?â Mingi asked, looking straight at you. âNo sir.â You nodded. âWooyoung and Jongho will accompany you around the training site. You need to learn basic self defence.â He stepped towards you, towering over you. âIs that understood?â Mingi said, looking down at you, his expression unreadable. âYes sir.â Your voice came out as a whisper. He simply nodded at you and gestured to follow the other two out. You bowed your head slightly and walked out of the room.
After a detailed tour around the castle and town, the three of you were on the way back to the castle, the cold night air making you shiver. âYou cold princess?â Wooyoung asked, looking at your pale face. You nodded and he immediately took off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. âIâm wearing multiple layers underneath, loosing one doesnât really matter to me.â He reassured, flashing a small smile at you and you thanked him. âI-I thought we were training today though?â You asked, glancing over at Jongho who followed the both of you silently.
âYou havenât received the proper clothing for it. You need to be able to move freely to train properly.â Jongho stated. âNo worries. We need you to get comfortable and used to the place first right!â Wooyoung exclaimed. You stared back at the man, holding back a smile. âI thought Iâd lighten the mood.â He said, looking down, biting his cheeks. You chuckled at his behaviour, finding it adorable.
You crossed your hands across your chest for warmth as Wooyoung walked beside you making some small talk, his hands behind his back and Jongho walked a few steps behind you silently, hand on his sword and highly alert since we were walking through the shallow woods. âWe are here. Letâs go in for dinner.â Wooyoung announced and guided you back into the castle, towards the dinning hall.
The huge doors opened to Mingi and his men, Yunho and San seated at the end of the long wooden dining table. âHow was training?â Mingi asked, his voice echoing through the hall. âWe-.âââIt was good. The princess is a fast leaner, Isnât that right?â Wooyoung cut you off, shooting a wink at your way. You held back a smile and nodded. Mingi hummed, âEat. The food will get cold.â He said, gesturing you three to take a seat. You sat between Wooyoung and Jongho. Wooyoung leaned in, his shoulder brushing against yours. âHe might get mad if he knew we wasted time today. Tomorrow we train alright? Tell Jongho.â Wooyoung whispered. You chuckled and nodded, turning to Jongho and leaning into his ear to convey Wooyoungs words. Mingi watched the interaction closely, Wooyoung met his eyes and smiled making Mingi roll his eyes.
After dinner Jongho said goodbye to the both of you and returned to his dorm for the night. Wooyoung turned to you, âLetâs get some rest?â Wooyoung asked, smiling softly. You nodded and followed him as he walked towards your dorm. âCould I ask you something princess?â He probed, looking straight head. âUh sure what is it?âââWhy is it that you are here..? I mean I do know itâs because of the agreement but.. is there another reason?â Wooyoung said, stopping in his tracks and looking straight at you, his eyes held a curious glint. You chuckled. âShouldnât you ask your beloved majesty? Even I donât know why he wants me here.â You replied with a sarcastic tone but you truly were serious. Wooyoung chuckled. âOh so it was Mingiâs idea huh.â You nodded and resumed walking.
You reached your dorm and turned to Wooyoung. âThank you for today Sir Jung. Thank you for making me feel more comfortable here.â You smiled and bowed to him. He chuckled at your words. âWooyoung. Call me wooyoung princess. I donât need formality between us alright?â You nodded, giggling a bit. You bid him goodbye and waited till he left. You turned to open the door, entering into your room. Your hands felt the wall to find the light switch and flipped it on. You turned around and yelped.
âYou did a lot of training today didnât you princess?â His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. âWhy a-are you here?â Your voice came out trembling. He turned around to face you, and oh boy he looked mad. âYou three had the audacity to lie to me? Did you really think I wouldnât find out?â Mingi raised his voice, stalking towards you like a predator to a prey. âI-Iâm sorry.. I didnât-.âââYou didnât what?â
Mingi stood barely inches away from you, his gaze burning into yours. You stood straight, trying not to feel inferior. âIâll be accompanying you from tomorrow. Iâll let this time slide but if you repeat this. You wonât like whatâs coming. Understood?â Mingi barked down at you. You nodded, eyes glued to the floor, deciding to stay silent but it quickly backfired.
Mingi grabbed your jaw roughly, gripping it in a way forcing you to look up at him,
âUse your words princess or are you illiterate as well? Is that fucking understood?â
He growled, his face inches away from yours. âY-yes sir. I understand. I wonât repeat it.â You whispered, eyes tearing up just a bit. He nodded and let go of you, walking out of the dorm leaving you dumbfounded. You slammed the door behind him, locking it and headed into the bathroom, stripping yourself of all clothing and ran the shower.
You stood under the warm water as it hit your head, calming you down just a fraction. You felt humiliated and belittled by that selfish bastard of a man. How dare he. You felt your blood burn with anger the more you thought of the interaction. You hopped out of the shower, changing into your pyjamas and headed to bed, making sure the doors and windows were locked, slowly sliding under the comfy covers that felt cold on your skin. You tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep but it never came. You sighed defeated and sat up, stepping out of bed and tied on a robe.
You slowly unlocked and opened your door, looking around just incase and crept down the hallway. Your hands crossed around yourself for warmth as your legs mindlessly walked around the backside of the vast palace. It was dark and windy, small flakes of snow glittered the ground and sky, giving the atmosphere a misty look. You clutched to your robe, spotting a building in the corner of your eye. You squinted to see if whether there was anyone near the area and slithered your way towards the back door, looking around and slipped in.
You let out a soft gasp, taking in the sight in front of you. A vast swimming pool stretches out like a sheet of polished glass, so wide and long that its far edge almost blurs into the distance. The water is a clear, luminous blue, catching the light and rippling softly with slow, gentle movement. Along the sides, smooth stone frame the pool. Your lips curled into a smile as you walked along the sides of the pool, mesmerised by the beautiful architecture. You were so coming back here tomorrow night.
The next morning, you headed out with Wooyoung and Jongho to the study. It was right after breakfast, you felt a bit sulky but motivated to prove Mingi wrong. âHey uh can I ask you guys something?â You spoke up, earning the attention of both the men. They both nodded, gesturing you to continue. âYesterday I kind of stumbled upon a.. building behind the palace. It was in the far back, no patrol or anything around the place. I thought it was abandoned but-.âââIs it the basin?â Jongho cut you off. You nodded earning a hum of agreement from Wooyoung.
âThe basin isnât abandoned, there is regular checking done for the waters but no one uses it. The former king built it for the crown prince himself. But he never used it. No one knows why.â Wooyoung answered, his voice neutral and low. âIs it forbidden to use?â You asked, Jongho chuckled. âNo princess it isnât forbidden. You can still use it but incase you drown, donât bother screaming as no one will hear you. The basin is located in a.. letâs say a secluded area. Itâs a bit far from the palace and right next to the woods.â
âHow did you even find it in the first place? Were you out of your dorm at night?â Wooyoung asked almost concerningly. âI saw during our tour.. thatâs all.â You lied smoothly. Wooyoung nodded and continued walking in silence. You finally reached the study, Wooyoung stepped inside, holding the door open for the both of you.
The study wasnât too small. It was just right. A big wooden desk in the middle, a whole wall filled with books, seating area and more book shelves. It was a perfect little space. You sat opposite to Wooyoung and Jongho, they were discussing amongst themselves on something you couldnât quite understand. You stayed quiet, not wanting to interfere and looked around the room.
âDo you know anything about our clans? Their history?â Wooyoungâs voice brought your attention back on them. You nodded, âA bit.â Wooyoung sighed and turned to his side, grabbing a book off the table and slid it towards you. âLetâs start off with a debrief then.â He smiled and began teaching you about the different clans, their history, their diverse cultures, what their known for and what they contribute to the motherland.
After what felt like an eternity you somewhat learned something. Wooyoung sighed tiredly, leaning back in the chair, shutting the book abruptly. âI will test you tomorrow. I have to make sure you really learnt.â Wooyoung smirked seeing you roll your eyes at him. You nodded and leaned back, closing your eyes for a brief moment.
âIs this what you call learning?â Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice. You looked up and saw Mingi staring daggers at your state. You sat up and looked down at your lap. âWe just completed our session.â You said, earning a scoff from Mingi. âDoesnât look like it.â He rolled his eyes in annoyance. You looked up at him, frowning. âWhat do you know. You just came in.â You jabbed at him. Wooyoung and Jonghoâs eyes widened at your retort while Mingi just stared at you.
âNow if you excuse me. Iâll be in my dorm.â You said, picking up your books and walked past Mingi, Jongho and Wooyoung following behind you. Wooyoung snorted, âWhere did that come from now? I thought you were shit scared of him!â Wooyoung exclaimed, nudging at your shoulder making you chuckle. âI have no reason to be scared of him. Itâs Mingi thatâs supposed to be scared of me.â Jongho snickered behind you both making you giggle. âWell arenât you going to join us for dinner?â Jongho asked. âIâm not hungry.. I think Iâll just go straight to bed. All this studying is killing me.â You groaned making Wooyoung smile. They both bid you goodbye as you reached your dorm and left. You set your books aside on the table and changed into your casual clothes. âIâll go swimming next time. I need to study tonight.â You reminded yourself and dove straight into your books.
You finally completed your studies into the late hours of the night. Moonlight casting a subtle shine on your face as you looked out of the window, into the gardens. It was yet again another cold and snowy night. You knew this would be the way you will spend your nights every day til you leave. You sighed and put away the books, blowing at the candle to extinguish it and got up, grabbing your towel and headed into the bathroom. You slid off the straps of your dress, untying your boots, sliding down your underpants and inner skirt, hopping into the hot shower.
You stepped out, wrapping the towel around your torso and went into the bedroom, standing before your cupboard trying to find your night gowns.
knock knock knock
You flinched, clutching at your towel, begging for it not to fall. You stayed quiet, hoping the person would leave. But they didnât, they knocked again, harder. You grabbed your clothes, changing quickly and went towards the door, standing before it, hesitant. The knocks grew harder and more aggressive. âY/n open the door.â A familiar voice called out for you from the other side. You still hesitated, staying silent and still. âY/n itâs Mingi. Open the door now. I know youâre awake.â You held your breath, grabbing at the handle. You opened the door only to find Mingi jump at you, his palm clamped around your mouth, keeping you silent while his other hand wrapped around your arms, keeping you still. Your eyes were wide with confusion and fear. He pushed inside, shutting the door with his leg, his eyes never left you.
âIf I let go of you, will you say quiet for me?â He asked, no no he demanded. You nodded slowly as he let go of you, standing straight. You took in a deep breath, hoping he would give you an explanation for this predicament. Mingiâs eyes scanned the room silently. âWhatâs going on?â Your voice came out soft and trembling. Mingi looked at you, letting out a sigh.
âThere was an attack at the border.â his voice soft. âYour.. your ministers and guards that were returning back to Eden were ambushed.â Mingi looked down, looking as though he was guilty.
You froze at his words, breath hitched and eyes now teary. âSomeone must have tipped off the neighbouring kingdoms.. someone internal. A mole in the palace.â Mingi looked up at you, his face concerned but stern. You clenched your jaw, anger flowing through your veins. âYou said they would be fine? That the road was so safe for them. You.. you gave out false reassurance to all of them Mingi.â You muttered, glaring at the tall blonde. âPrincess, I hadnât known we had a mole-.â â
âDo not give me your fucking excuses! You- you promised them.. you promised me that theyâd be safe! That theyâd get home on time! God and itâs been days since they left.. and now it just means that they have been captured for so long without anyoneâs knowledge.â You began spiralling, hands gripping at your night gown, angry tears flowing down your cheeks, your lips quivering.
Mingi walked towards you despite telling him to stay back. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. You sobbed into his chest, wetting his shirt. âShh.. calm down y/n.â He said, gently patting your back. âWhy- why was their route plan public? You could have just kept it to yourself and the guards and-.â â âLike I said princess, it is an inside job. Someone close is the mole. That is why we cannot risk sharing this information to anyone, the mole could be a guard, advisor or even a minister.â Mingi cut you off, reminding you of his words once more.
âI shouldâve been there with them..! This is all your fault! You didnât let me go, keeping me here like your slave and for what!â You cried out, pushing him back so he could see exactly how mad you were.
âYou would have been taken too! I would have to help your stubborn ass either way. And youâre right, I have no reason to keep you here. Youâre useless to me. The only reason I agreed was because of how close I was with the Late King.â Mingi growled, causing your breath to hitch.
âNow that we have that clear, cooperate with me for bit more so that you can get your people back and leave this place you call hell hole. Train and learn properly, and weâll find your men in no time. Understood?â He said, his face not showing an ounce of emotion anymore. You clenched your jaw, too frustrated to listen to his words anymore. âGet out.â You whispered. âFor gods sake Y/nâââGet out!â You cut him off, yelling now. Mingi exhaled sharply and turned around, stepping out of the room, slamming the door shut.
You let out a sob, falling to your knees as guilt ate you whole. You felt guilty that you couldnât be there for them or had even known about it sooner so you could act faster. You sobbed into your palms. Jaemin. You gasped softly, they had Jaemin too. You broke down crying at the thought of something happening to Jaemin. You couldnât let that happen. You were going to make whoever did this pay.
âTerrible news was brought back to us last night. The men of Eden, the ministers, guards and advisors of the council of Eden were ambushed and taken away. We donât know who did it but we most probably know their motive for it. This is the Souths way of announcing war on the North. I have already sent a letter to the East, the Kingdom of Sang. Emperor Bahng will reluctantly join us, so no doubt in that. Anyone else suggests anything?â Mingi announced the room, letting everyone know of the recent events.
âWhich region is close to your borders? If im not wrong.. the kingdom of Wonderland governed by Emperor Kim and the kingdoms of The Lost Island and Shadow reside also nearby right. They all too have motives of expanding into the north and in order to do that they would have to start wars. I say we look into those three for now, incase nothing really shows up we expand our options. But at all costs we do not give up. Understood?â You gave out your calculated answer, earning yesâ and nods from the men around the table.
Mingi nodded, giving out orders everyone and sent them off leaving you, Jongho and Wooyoung left in the room. âThere is something I need you both to look into.â Mingi addressed to Wooyoung and Jongho. They straightened up listening to what Mingi had to say.
âSo there is a mole among us now?â Jongho rolled his eyes in annoyance. Mingi nodded at him. âI need you both to figure out who is it. It is someone close, thatâs guaranteed. You need to do this task simultaneously as you train princess y/n. We canât have her be a liability to us incase what she said was right. If we do go into war, we need all hands on deck. Understood?â Jongho and Wooyoung agreed and got ready to leave.
âJongho. Start with self defence today.â Mingi called out. You frowned at him. âI thought you were going to quiz me?â You asked confused. He shook his head, âYou seem well revised. From now we teach you how to defend yourself and others incase of attacks. But along with that you need to study too. You grasp information quickly so I doubt it would be a headache for you.â You smirked at his words and nodded, exiting the room along with Wooyoung and Jongho.
âWell can I just say that you seemed so very very hot being all smart ass back there.â Wooyoung teased making you blush, âWell I had good teachers so~â you teased back, nudging at Wooyoung and Jongho making them giggle. âAre you upset?â Jongho spoke up, his voice soft but firm. You shook your head. âI have no reason to be. Yes I was upset at first but it isnât something I can control. In whatever scenario that would have happened I just hope Jaemin and the others are alright. Thatâs all I pray for.â You sighed deeply, feeling tears fill of your eyes again.
âCan I ask. Who really is Jaemin. I donât believe he is just your bodyguard and advisor. Ooo is he your boyfriend?â Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows. You slapped his shoulder. âJaemin isnât my boyfriend. He is my brother type friend Iâve had since I was a child. Thatâs why weâre so close.â You smiled thinking of how you were as kids with him. âThatâs cute. Well come on now today is gonna be a long day of hard work.â Wooyoung said walking forward.
Yeah.. long day.
[A/N: Hiii everyone! Sorry for making you wait so much but itâs finally here! I decided to make it chapter by chapter because I brainstormed too much for such a short time. Hope you all enjoyed chapter 1 and please do give me advice on how to write. It is my first time doing long stories. Love you~]
genre: non idol!au, college!au, fluff, kind of a slow burn with a very happy ending, mutual pining!!!!!!!! he falls first and hard, she too falls hard and fast :)))
word count: 25k, deadass.
âââââ ââ ââ â âââââ
warnings: acquaintances to lovers, economics jumpscare, reader is a tutor and mingi is your not so average frat dude that does an athletic scholarship, eventual smut, praise kink!!!!!, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dry humping, lowk breeding kink mingi freaky, switch!mingi & reader, softdom!mingi, spanking (?), possessive!mingi, cockwarming (a lil!) / lmk if i missed any!
author's note: guys i finally locked in!!! this story has been such a bitch to write but i'm finally happy with it lmfaoaoo. the only reason why it took so long its cause i deadass remembered all my econ concepts from my first year at uni and i got flashbacks sooooo. if its inaccurate don't come for me. also ngl mingi ain't even that much of a fratboy, he is but he's a little nerd!! you'll see - i hope you guys enjoy!!
permanent taglist: @norixseaweed @f3mboienjoyer @liightlizard @minguxxs + if you want to be added to my taglist, let me know :))
You hear him before you see him. The sound is impossible to missâsomeoneâs torn the universe open and stuffed it with a live wire; the room buzzes, vibrates, orbits around a single axis. Song Mingi is that axis, black hair messy from hands that are never his own, smile bright enough to reflect off the bottles lining the kitchen counter. Itâs the kind of house party that exists more as myth than reality until youâre standing in the middle of it, your feet sticky with last weekendâs spilled vodka, your ears ringing from bass and laughter and the high-pitched screeching of people who either want to be him or be with him.
You donât want either. In fact, you donât really want to be here, but your roommate insistedâa rare Friday night without any assignments dueâand now sheâs traded you for a swarm of sweaty college kids in the living room. Youâre left clutching a warm can of seltzer, surveying the landscape like a tourist on safari: here, the drunken pack of freshman girls hunched over a phone for a group selfie; there, the duo of varsity rowers relishing about morning practice, each trying to outdo the otherâs misery; everywhere, the constant, inescapable gravitational pull of him.
Heâs posted at the middle of it all, a bottle of expensive liquor in one hand and a girl in the other. Sheâs whispering in his ear, probably promising him things people only say out loud when their inhibitions have been loosened by alcohol and the hope of being remembered. Itâs a practised scene, and you can tell from the way Mingiâs eyes slide from her face to the crowd and back again that heâs already bored. Heâs hunting, you realise, and the realisation leaves you faintly amused.
Youâve had classes with him before and found his intellect sharper than his reputation suggests, but heâs never bothered to speak to you directly, which is fine. You prefer it that way. You know exactly what happens to girls who mistake the man for the myth.
But tonight, for whatever reason, he looks right at you.
You donât realise it at first; youâre half-listening to the rowers behind you, half-calculating the economic impact of the universityâs new housing policy for the department group chat. Thereâs a lull in the noise, a momentary vacuum, and then his gaze lands like a physical thing. It takes you off guardâthe pure concentration of it, as if heâs seeing you in high-definition while the rest of the house blurs into obscurity. His attention is so heavy, so absolute, that even the girl on his arm notices and goes rigid with annoyance.
Your instinct is to look away. But for some reason, you donât. Maybe itâs the alcohol buzzing in your veins, maybe itâs the novelty of being the focal point in a room devoted to him, but you meet his eyes and hold them. Mingiâs mouth quirks, not into a smirk but something strange and speculative, and when he finally looks away, it feels less like defeat and more like a challenge accepted.
Within the hour, he maneuvers his way to your side of the party, the girl from before abandoned to the mercy of the crowd. He props an elbow on the countertop, leans in so dangerously close, âDidnât think this was your scene.â
You arch an eyebrow, the response easy. âIt really isnât, my roommate dragged me out.â
He grins, all teeth and promise. âI have to thank her for bringing such a pretty girl to my party.â
You roll your eyes, annoyed but not surprised. The rest of the party moves around you in a kind of staccato blur. A game of beer pong erupts into a shouting match in the dining room; someoneâs Bluetooth speaker dies mid-chorus, leading to a plaintive chorus of off-key singing. People bump into you, apologise, and then linger a beat longer than necessary to see if youâre still talking to Mingi. He doesnât seem to notice, but you do. He asks what youâre studying, and you answer. You ask him what he wants to do after graduation, and he shrugs, but the gesture is so carefree yet careful.
âIf this soccer thing doesnât work out, Iâll intern at some start-up company,â he explained. âOr Iâll sell feet pics.â
You cringe at the image. The girl from before stalks past, her glare sharp enough to sever arteries. Mingi watches her go but his gaze falls right back to you.Â
By midnight, the house dissolves into its constituent parts: the freshies, the clean-up crew, the drunk casualties. Mingi drifts away, then back againâat your side, across the kitchen, never quite out of reach. He offers you a drink at one point; you decline, still nursing the same seltzer. It doesnât stop him. He keeps finding his way back, as if every conversation eventually leads to you.
You leave before he does. Thereâs no dramatic goodbye, no exchanged numbers or whispered invitationsâjust a passing nod, the kind that could mean anything or nothing at all. You donât look back. By the time youâre out the door (your roommate long gone with a lacrosse player, leaving you to fend for yourself), the night already feels like itâs starting to blur at the edges. Whatever that was, if it was anything, you let it go.
Inside, though, Mingi doesnât. Heâs still watching the spot where you disappeared, gaze fixed a beat too long, like heâs waiting for you to reappear. The noise of the party swells back in around him, but he doesnât moveâdrink untouched, conversation abandoned mid-thread.
A shoulder bumps into his.
âWhatâs with that look on your face?â
Mingi blinks, like heâs just been pulled back into the room. âWhat look?â
Yunho huffs a quiet laugh. âThat look. You had heart eyes bro don't even play.â
Mingi scoffs, quick, automatic. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
His friend raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, following his line of sight to the now-empty doorway before glancing back at him. Mingi exhales through his nose, finally tearing his gaze away, dragging a hand over the back of his neck like he can shake it off. He should've definitely asked for your number.
Monday morning arrives with the kind of headache that has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with three consecutive all-nighters. Professor Kimâs Advanced Macroeconomic Theory is notoriously brutal, and youâve spent the weekend buried under supply-demand graphs and inflation models. As you slide into your usual seat, youâre already mentally rehearsing your presentation on fiscal policy scheduled for next week.
Which is why, when Mingi strolls through the lecture hall doors at 8:58 AM, you momentarily forget how to function.
He shouldnât be here. This isnât his class, or at least it hasnât been for the past six weeks. Youâve never seen him in this lecture hall before, despite it being nearly midterm. Yet there he is, wearing dark jeans and a simple white button down that somehow looks so irritatingly good on his frame, scanning the room with casual confidence. His eyes find yours immediately, as if itâs magnetised. The smile that follows is different from Friday nightâsâsmaller, more genuine, it was like he wanted to see you. Before you can process whatâs happening, heâs navigating the row of seats, stepping over backpacks and laptops until heâs standing right next to you.
âThis seat taken?â he asks, gesturing to the empty chair beside you.
You blink, thrown by the unexpected proximity. âI didnât know you were in this class.â
âIâm full of surprises.â He drops into the seat, arranging his long legs in the cramped space. âSo, howâd you find the party?â
The question is casual, but thereâs something careful in his tone, as if your answer matters more than heâs letting on. You notice he pulled out a notebook AND a pen, this was definitely exceeding your expectations of him. Then again, what did you expect anyway?Â
âIt was... something,â you reply, deliberately vague. âThough Iâm surprised to see you conscious before noon, much less in an 8 AM econ lecture.â
He laughs, the sound low enough not to draw attention but warm enough to settle somewhere beneath your ribs. âWhat, you think I spend all my mornings hungover?â
âThe evidence suggested a statistical probability.â
âMaybe Iâm an outlier.â He leans closer, close enough that you catch the scent of his cologneâsmelling faintly of citrus and cedarwood. âOr I just needed the right motivation to show up.â
Thankfully Professor Kim walks in and begins the lecture, leaving you no time to tweak out over whatever the fuck he said. You expect Mingi to lose interest, to pull out his phone, or to doze off, like half the class inevitably does when the professor starts droning on about aggregate demand curves. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes focused on the presentation slides. Ten minutes in, when he introduces a particularly convoluted model, Mingi shifts slightly toward you.
âHey,â he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. âIf the Phillips curve is supposed to show the inverse relationship between unemployment and inflation, why is he saying itâs unstable in the long run?â
The question catches you off guardânot because itâs difficult, but because itâs astute. âBecause expectations adjust,â you whisper back. âWorkers anticipate inflation and demand higher wages, which shifts the curve.â
He nods, considering this. âSo itâs only reliable as a short-term predictor?â
âYeah, you got it.â
Throughout the next hour, Mingi continues to ask questionsâthoughtful ones that reveal heâs not just listening but actively processing. Each time he leans in, you feel a strange flutter of... something. Not just attraction, though thatâs undeniably there, but surprise. Mingi, the guy who supposedly once turned the campus fountain into a bubble bath during finals week, is engaging with macroeconomic theory like it genuinely interests him.
âThe Solow model assumes diminishing returns to capital,â he murmurs at one point, frowning slightly. âDoesnât that contradict what weâre seeing with tech companies? They seem to get increasing returns the bigger they get.â
You stare at him for a beat too long. âThatâs... actually a good point. The model was developed before the rise of digital economies. Network effects change the math.â
A smile spreads across his face, pleased and slightly smug, as if heâs won something. âIâm not just a pretty face, you know.â
The comment should be annoying, but delivered in a whisper while the professor drones on about growth rates, it makes you roll your eyes and bite back a smile instead. By the time class ends, youâve had to recalibrate your entire perception of him. Heâs taken actual notes. Heâs asked intelligent questions. Heâs made connections between concepts that some of your study group members still struggle with. Itâs disorienting, like discovering your cat can suddenly understand what youâre saying. As you pack up your laptop, he lingers, watching you with that same intense focus from the party.
âSo,â he says, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. âI think I deserve some credit for showing up today. Maybe we could grab coffee, and you could explain more about that Phillips curve thing?â
The invitation is transparentâhe doesnât need your help understanding the Phillips curveâbut thereâs something almost endearing about his attempt.
âIs that your go-to line?â you ask, unable to keep the amusement from your voice. âPretend to need academic help to get a date?â
âOnly with the smart ones.â His grins unapologetically. âIs it working?â
You laugh, shaking your head as you stand. âNo. Nice try, though.â
Rather than looking discouraged, his eyes light up with what can only be described as delighted challenge. He falls into step beside you as you head for the door.
âYou know what this means, right?â His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. âNow I have to come up with something better for Wednesdayâs class.â
âWednesdayâs class?â You stop at the doorway, genuinely surprised. âYouâre coming back?â
Mingi looks at you like youâve said something ridiculous. âOf course. I paid for this course, didnât I? Besides,â he adds, his smile turning slightly wicked, âIâve got a new reason to show up now.â
Before you can protest this presumptuous declaration, heâs backing away, walking backward down the hallway with that infuriating confidence.
âSee you Wednesday,â he calls. âMaybe by then youâll have reconsidered that coffee date.â
You watch him go, torn between irritation and a reluctant spark of interest. The worst part is, you already know youâll be thinking about him for the rest of the day, analysing his questions, his attention, the way he looked at you like you were a particularly fascinating economic theory he was determined to master. Despite your best intentions, youâre already wondering what heâll come up with on Wednesday.
True to his word, Mingi shows up to every single class over the next few weeks. Not just Macroeconomic Theory, but your shared Political Science workshop and even the optional Economics Department lectures that most students skip. Each time, he gravitates toward you like youâre the north to his south, sliding into adjacent seats with casual determination.
At first, youâre suspiciousâwaiting for the punchline, the reveal that this is some elaborate bet or another frat bro prank. The punchline never comes. Instead, he brings you coffee and snacks, asks thoughtful questions about the material, and occasionally makes you laugh with whispered commentary when Professor Kim goes on one of his tangents about his glory days at the Federal Reserve.
You find yourself slipping into a strange routine. Heâll wait for you after class, walking you to your next destination while debating fiscal multipliers or the ethics of quantitative easing. Sometimes his soccer teammates call out to him across the quad, and you watch the transformationâhow he shifts into the boisterous, larger-than-life Mingi they expect, before settling back into the more thoughtful version when he returns to your side.
Itâs Tuesday afternoon when everything shifts. The library is packed with students cramming for midterms, the air thick with desperation and the smell of overpriced coffee. Youâve claimed your usual table by the economics stacks when Mingi drops into the chair across from you, his expression unusually serious.
âI need to ask you something,â he says, no preamble, no charming smile.
You glance up from your notes, pen hovering. âOkay?â
He runs a hand through his hairâa nervous gesture youâve never seen from him before. âI need a tutor.â
You stare at him, waiting for the joke. When it doesnât come, you set down your pen. âYouâre kidding, right? Youâve been getting the material just fine.â
âNo, I havenât.â His voice is lower now, stripped of its usual confidence. âIâve been barely keeping up. The midtermâs in two weeks, and Iâmââ He stops, jaw tightening. âI need to pass this class with at least a B+.â
âYouâve been answering questions in class,â you counter, confused by this sudden admission. âYou made that connection about endogenous growth theory that even Professor Kim said was insightful.â
Mingiâs laugh is hollow. âYeah, after spending six hours the night before trying to understand it. Lookââ He leans forward, elbows on the table. âIâm not as smart as you think I am. Not naturally, anyway. I have to work twice as hard just to keep up.â
You study him, searching for signs of insincerity. âWhy are you telling me this now? And why me?â
âYouâre the smartest person in this class. IâI donât know who else to askâŠâ His eyes meet yours, unusually vulnerable. âI think you might actually help me without making me feel stupid about it.â
Something doesnât add up. Youâve seen him joke around with teaching assistants, charm his way into deadline extensions. âI donât understandââ
Mingi glances around, then lowers his voice. âIâm on an athletic scholarship. Full ride, but I have to maintain a 3.5 GPA, or I lose it.â He runs a hand over his face. âMy advisor warned me last week. This class is dragging everything down. If I donât get at least a B+ on this midterm, Iâm screwed.â
The admission hangs between you, reshaping your understanding of him. You didnât expect him to be so honest, let alone be honest with you. You knew you were more than capable of tutoring him, youâve tutored multiple students and peers in past. A part of you wants to deny himâ to encourage him to try the other capable tutors in this course but something about his vulnerability made you hold back on that decision.Â
âWhy didnât you say something sooner?â you ask, softer now.
âBecause itâs embarrassing?â He gives a self-deprecating smile that doesnât reach his eyes. âThe dumb jock stereotype exists for a reason. Iâve been fighting it since high school.â He hesitates. âAnd maybe I wanted you to think I was smart enough to keep up with you.â
The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. This is a different man than the one who struts across campus with practised nonchalance, who holds court at parties with effortless charm. This Mingi looks tired and worried, seeing him like this made your heart sink a little.
âI canât afford a professional tutor,â he continues when you donât immediately respond. âMost of my scholarship money goes to housing and food. I can pay you a tutor fee if you have one. Please.â
You should say no. You have your own exams to study for, your own GPA to maintain. But thereâs something about seeing him like thisâdefences down, pride set asideâthat makes it difficult.
âIf I do this,â you say slowly, âthere would be conditions.â
Hope flickers across his face. âName them.â
âFirst, you pay me. My normal rate is sixty per session but considering your situation, I can lower the costâthis is work, not charity.â You hold up a finger. âSecond, you actually put in the effort. No skipping sessions, no half-assing the practice problems I give you.â Another finger joins the first. âAnd third, no messing around. This isnât a backdoor way toâI donât knowâwhatever it is you might be thinking.â
âYou think Iâm using this as an excuse to hit on you?â For the first time, genuine amusement crosses his face. âThat would be a pretty elaborate scheme, even for me.â
âIâm serious, Mingi.â
âSo am I.â The smile fades. âI need this scholarship. Please.â
You sigh, already second-guessing yourself. âFine. We start tomorrow. Six pm, here. Bring your textbook, all your notes, and any practice exams you can get your hands on.â
The relief that washes over his face is so raw it makes you uncomfortable. He reaches across the table, squeezing your hand briefly. âThank you. Seriously.â
âDonât thank me yet,â you warn. âIâm not going to go easy on you.â
âI wouldnât expect you to.â He stands, some of his usual confidence returning.
As you watch him walk away, shoulders straight but tension visible in the line of his neck, you canât shake the feeling that youâve just crossed some invisible boundary. This isnât just coffee after class or witty banter during lectures. This is entangling yourself in his future, taking partial responsibility for his success or failure. You turn back to your notes, trying to focus, but your mind keeps drifting to the look in his eyes when he admitted he needed help. The vulnerability there was realâyouâre almost certain of it. Almost. As you pack up your things hours later, doubt creeps in. Youâve seen how charming he can be, how easily he navigates social situations to get what he wants. What if this is just another performance? What if youâre falling for an act designed to manipulate you into doing his academic heavy lifting? The questions follow you all the way home, lingering as you prepare for bed. You set an alarm for tomorrow and added a reminder to prepare some preliminary materials for your first tutoring session. Despite your misgivings, youâre already mapping out a study plan, identifying the concepts he seemed to struggle with most.
Surely, this little arrangement you have going on wonât be a mistake⊠Right?
You arrive at the library fifteen minutes early to set up, spreading out practice problems and your own colour-coded notes across the table. Youâve been overthinking this all dayâwondering if heâll even show up, if this whole vulnerable confession was just an elaborate ploy to get you to do his work for him. The clock hits 6:00 PM. Then 6:05. Your suspicions start to crystallise into something like disappointment.
At 6:07, Mingi rushes through the library doors, slightly out of breath. Heâs carrying a tray with two coffees and a small paper bag that smells suspiciously of baked goods.
You eye the coffee sceptically. âIs this a bribe?â
He laughs, quieter than his usual boisterous sound, mindful of the library setting. âNo, itâs a thank you. Here, try this.â He slides one cup toward you. âOh, and I got those almond croissants you mentioned the other day. Though honestly, I might have also gotten them because Iâm starving.â
The fact that he remembered your drink order is surprising enough. That he recalled an offhand comment you made about pastries during a five-minute conversation between classes is something else entirely.
âYou didnât have to do that,â you murmur, but you accept the cup anyway, the warmth seeping into your palms.
âSâalright, I wanted to.â He pulls out his textbook and a surprisingly organised binder of notes. âSo, where do we start?â
For the next hour, you walk him through the fundamental concepts of various economic principles, expecting his attention to wander, waiting for the inevitable check of his phone or glance at the clock. It never comes. Instead, Mingi leans forward, brow furrowed in concentration, asking questions that reveal heâs been paying closer attention than you gave him credit for.Â
âSo if technological progress is exogenous in this model,â he questions, tapping his pencil against the page, âthen what actually drives long-term growth? Since capital accumulation alone has diminishing returns, right?â
âExactly.â You canât help the surprise in your voice. âThatâs one of the modelâs main limitations. It doesnât explain where technological progress comes from.â
He nods, making a note in the margin of his textbook. âWhich is why we need endogenous growth theory.â
You stare at him. âYouâve been reading ahead.â
A hint of his usual smirk appears. âDonât sound so shocked. I told you Iâm locked in for our sessions.â
âReading ahead is a bit more than just locking in,â you point out.
âMaybe Iâm trying to impress my tutor.â He winks, but thereâs something different about his teasing nowâless performative.
You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile. âFocus, Mingi.â
âI am focused,â he protests, gesturing to his detailed notes. âSee? Iâm being a model student.â
âA model student wouldnât have waited until three weeks before midterms to ask for help,â you counter, but thereâs no bite to your words.
âTrue.â He stretches, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches for another practice problem. The brief contact sends an unexpected jolt through you. âBut then I wouldnât have had the pleasure of your company on a Wednesday evening.â
You ignore the flutter in your stomach. âHaha. Very funny.â
As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing into a rhythm with him. Heâs attentive, asking thoughtful questions and working through problems with determined concentration. When he gets stuck on a particularly tricky concept about crowding-out effects, he doesnât get frustratedâinstead, he listens carefully to your explanation, his eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that makes your cheeks warm.
âLike this?â he asks after reworking the problem, sliding his paper toward you.
Your fingers brush as you take it, and neither of you pulls away immediately. You study his work, acutely aware of how close heâs sitting, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the drinks between you.
âThatâs...actually perfect,â you admit, surprised by the clarity of his work. âYou got it exactly right.â
His smile is different from any youâve seen beforeânot the practiced charm he flashes at parties or the competitive grin on the soccer field. Itâs smaller, more genuine, edged with relief.
âI have a good teacher,â he says simply.
You clear your throat, suddenly finding the library too warm. âLetâs try another one.â
Two hours fly by faster than you expected. Mingi works through problem after problem, his understanding visibly improving with each explanation. When he successfully graphs a complex IS-LM model without assistance, the pride on his face is so unguarded it catches you off guard.
âSee? Not just another dumb jock,â he says, but the joke doesnât land quite right. You hear the insecurity beneath it.
âI never thought you were dumb,â you say carefully. âUnmotivated, maybe. But not dumb.â
He looks up from his notes, expression surprisingly vulnerable. âMost people donât make that distinction.â
âIâm not most people.â
âNo,â he agrees, studying your face. âYouâre definitely not.â
The moment stretches between you, taut with something unspoken. Youâre the first to break eye contact, shuffling papers with unnecessary focus.
âItâs getting late,â you say, glancing at your watch. âWe should probably wrap up.â
Mingi begins gathering his things, but his movements are unhurried. âSame time Friday?â
You hesitate. You hadnât planned on making this a regular thing, certainly not multiple times a week. But the progress heâs made in just one session is undeniable.
âYou donât have practice on Friday?â
âNot until seven.â He zips up his backpack. âUnless youâre busy.â
âNo, Iâm not busy.â The admission comes too quickly. âFriday works.â
As you pack up, he helps you organize your notes, handling the color-coded pages with careful precision. His fingers accidentally brush against yours again as he hands you a folder, and this time the contact lingers for a beat longer than necessary.
âThanks for not giving up on me,â he says quietly, shouldering his bag. âMost people would have.â
The sincerity in his voice makes something twist in your chest. âYou didnât give me a reason to.â
You walk together to the library exit, the night air cool against your skin after hours in the stuffy study area. Campus is quiet, most students either out for the evening or locked away studying. Mingi pauses under a lamppost, its glow casting shadows across his features.
âI can walk you home,â he offers. âItâs dark.â
âI live in the opposite direction from you,â you point out. âItâs fine, Iâve been walking home alone for two years now.â
He grins. âJust being a gentleman.â
âIs that what theyâre calling it these days?â
âOuch.â He clutches his chest in mock pain. âYou wound me.â
You laugh at his dramatic act. âGoodnight, Mingi.â
âGoodnight, Miss tutor.â He takes a step backward, still facing you. âDream of fiscal multipliers.â
âThatâs your homework, not mine,â you call after him.
His laughter carries on the night air as he walks away, and you stand watching him for a moment longer than necessary. Itâs only when youâre halfway home that you realize youâre still smiling, the warmth in your chest having nothing to do with the coffee you shared.
You tell yourself itâs just satisfaction from a productive tutoring session. Nothing more. Certainly not the way his eyes crinkled when he finally understood a difficult concept, or how his hand felt when it accidentally brushed yours, or the genuine gratitude in his voice when he thanked you. Definitely not that.
As you unlock your apartment door, you find yourself already planning Fridayâs session in your head, thinking of ways to explain concepts he struggled with, wondering if heâll bring coffee again, if heâll sit as close, if heâll look at you with that same focused intensity. Itâs purely academic help, you insist on yourself. Professional concern for a student who needs help. Even if you donât quite believe it.
Your roommate is waiting when you get home, practically vibrating with curiosity. âSo? How was tutoring Mingi? Did he make any moves?â
âIt was just tutoring,â you say, setting down your bag. âHeâs actually pretty smart, thought nothing was going on upstairs to be honest.â
Her lips thin out into a straight line, looking disappointed by your lack of gossip. âThatâs it? No flirting? No rizz? Nothing?â
You think about the moment he challenged your explanation, the genuine satisfaction in his eyes when he understood a complex concept.
âNope, nothing at all,â you deadpanned at your roommate.
As you lie in bed reviewing your day, you remember the intensity in his eyes when he thanked you. The way his smile changed when he was actually engaged with the material. The surprising depth of his questions. You wonder what other assumptions youâve made about Song Mingi might be wrong.
The following Friday, youâre setting up the study materials when Mingi arrives five minutes early this time. You almost burst out in laughter seeing the way he was trying to balance two cups of coffee in his hand.
âOkay once you're done clowning me, you have to try this vanilla latte. It's really good.â He sets them down carefully on your side of the table.
You eye the offerings suspiciously. âAre you sure this isnât supposed to be a bribe?â
âHm? For what?â He looks genuinely confused as he takes his seat.
âI donât know. Extra help? A better grade?â You push the coffee slightly away. âI canât accept this, youâve already bought me so much stuff the past couple of days.â
Mingi laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm in the sterile study room. âItâs just coffee, donât sweat it. Consider it a thank you for the last session. I actually understood what Professor Kim was talking about yesterday.â
You hesitate before reluctantly pulling the coffee back. âFine.â
His smiles. âIf I wanted to bribe you, Iâd need to do better than a coffee, doll. Consider it fuel for our session today.â
The nickname catches you off guard, heat rising unexpectedly to your cheeks. Mingiâs eyes flicker briefly to the colour spreading across your face, but he simply slides the coffee closer without comment. You accept the cup, fingers brushing his momentarily. Itâs still hot, and exactly how you like it. The gesture is small but thoughtful in a way you wouldnât have expected.
âThank you,â you hummed, setting up your materials. âDonât think this earns you any leniency on todayâs session.â
âWouldnât dream of it,â he says, already pulling out his completed homeworkâall of it done correctly, you note with surprise.
Over the next few sessions, a pattern emerges. Mingi has become significantly more punctual as your sessions progress, always bringing you coffee (though sometimes he switches it up with tea when you mention a sore throat), and always has his work prepared. The coffee becomes such a fixture that on the one day he arrives without it, you actually feel slightly disappointed.
âNo liquid bribery today?â you quipped, trying to keep your tone light.
His face falls. âThe line was insane, and I didnât want to be late.â He runs a hand through his hair, slightly panicked. âI can go get some if youââ
âI was joking,â you interject quickly. âDonât worry about it.â
âIâll make it up to you next week,â he shrugs, as if that helps explains everything.
The following week, he brings not only coffee but also a small paper bag containing a blueberry muffin from your favourite bakery across town.
âWhaâ Mingi, this isâŠâ you marvelled, eyeing the bakery logo. âThat place is twenty minutes from campus.â
He shrugs, focusing intently on opening his textbook. âMy morning run took me that way.â
âYour morning run took you four kilometres out of your way?â
He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping. âIâm an athlete. You could say that Iâve got excellent... endurance. A little detour doesnât bother me.â
You roll your eyes, you want to press the issue but are distracted when he pulls out the work you assigned him the previous session. Heâs not only completed all the assigned questions but has tackled the bonus problems you included as an afterthought. His work shows an elegant approach to the material that makes you pause.
âThis solution,â you point to his work on comparative advantage models, âwhere did you learn this method?â
âOh,â he looks almost embarrassed. âI was reading this paper by Stiglitz that mentioned a similar approach, so I adapted it. Is it wrong?â
You blink at him. âYouâre reading Joseph Stiglitz for fun?â
âGod no, not for fun,â he says, looking uncomfortable with your scrutiny. âI was trying to understand why the models in class werenât clicking for me. Sometimes I need to see the bigger picture.â
âYou know,â you say slowly, âyou might actually enjoy Behavioural Economics next semester. It challenges a lot of the classical assumptions.â
His eyes light up. âThatâs the unit with Professor Ryu, right? Iâve been wanting to take that.â
âWait, seriously?â You canât hide your surprise. âThat class is notoriously difficult.â
âSo am I, apparently,â he scoffed, but thereâs no bite to it. âAt least according to my tutor.â
The sessions continue, and with each one, your perception of Mingi shifts. When discussing economic inequality, he brings up points about systemic barriers that show heâs thought deeply about privilegeâincluding his own. During a session on game theory, he demonstrates an intuitive understanding of strategic thinking that surpasses most of your other students that you tutor.
âItâs like poker,â he explains when you comment on his grasp of Nash equilibrium. âEveryone thinks itâs about the cards, but itâs really about understanding peopleâs patterns and incentives.â
âYou play?â you ask, imagining loud frat house games with red cups and shouting.
âMy grandfather taught me,â he mumbled, something softer in his expression. âHe was an economics professor, actually.â
The revelation hangs between you, another piece of the puzzle that is Song Mingi. You want to ask more but sense his reluctance to elaborate. Maybe another day, you hope.
As your midterm approaches, your sessions intensify. You meet three times in the final week, once in the campus coffee shop when the library study rooms are all booked. Mingi still insists on paying for your drinks and snacks.
âOkay hear me out, Iâm applying economic concepts for when I order us coffee,â he announced before you can comment. âYouâre providing a service, Iâm compensating you beyond our agreed terms because the value exceeds the price.â
âThat sounds suspiciously like something I said two sessions ago,â you point out.
âI told you, I pay attention,â he corrected, and something in his tone makes you look up from your notes.
Heâs watching you with an expression you canât quite decipherâsomething more complex than what he shows the rest of the world. It makes your heart beat uncontrollably in your chest in a way that has nothing to do with caffeine. The night before the exam, you receive a text from him. Multiple actually.
The night before the exam, you receive a text from him: If monopolistic competition exhibits zero economic profit in the long run, why do firms bother entering the market?
You smile despite yourself and type back: Non-monetary incentives. Brand loyalty, market positioning, the satisfaction of seeing their competitors throw a bitch fit.
His response comes immediately: So spite is an economic motivator? They just like me fr.
You laugh out loud, drawing a curious look from your roommate.
âIs that Mingi?â she asks, eyebrows raised suggestively. âJust a last-minute economics question,â you answered, trying to sound casual.
âMhmm,â she hums skeptically. âSmiling over econ, rightâŠâ
You ignore her, sending Mingi one final message: Get some sleep. Economics rewards the well-rested. His reply makes your heart do something complicated.
I will, doll. Thank you.Â
On exam day, you spot him across the lecture hall. He catches your eye and gives you a small nodâno flashy smile, no charming wink, just quiet determination. For some reason, this affects you more than any of his rehearsed moves ever did that you observed in the past.
When Professor Kim calls time, you watch him hand in his exam with confidence in his posture that wasnât there six weeks ago. As students file out, he makes his way to your seat.
âHowâd it go?â you asked as you slowly gathered your things.
âI think,â he hums, âthat Professor Kim might actually have to give me an A.â
âDonât get cocky,â you scoff at his delusion, a small feeling of pride swells in your chest.
âNever,â he agrees solemnly, then ruins it with a grin. âI did crush that section on market failures. Turns out my experience with failed relationships was finally useful for something.â
You roll your eyes, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. âAnd here I thought weâd made progress beyond that frat boy persona of yours.â
âOld habits,â he nudges you with his elbow, falling into step beside you as you exit the classroom. âSeriously, thank you. I couldnât have done this without your help.â
You walk in silence for a moment, acutely aware of how his stride has adjusted to match yours. Itâs these small, unconscious accommodations that you find yourself noticing more and more lately.
âSo,â he clears his throat, breaking the quiet as you cross the quad, âMy frat is hosting our end-of-semester bash this weekend.â His tone is casual, but thereâs an undercurrent of something else. âSaturday night, starting around nine.â
You keep your eyes focused ahead. âIâm sure half the campus is already going and planning their outfits.â
âProbably,â he agrees with a light laugh. âBut I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to come?â
When you donât immediately respond, he adds quickly, âAs a thank you for helping me ace this exam. I mean, Iâm pretty sure I aced it.â
You slow your pace, finally turning to look at him properly. âYouâre inviting me to your party? Me?â The disbelief in your voice is unmistakable.
âIs that so hard to believe?â His expression is somewhere between amused and offended.
âMingi, I donât do parties.â You adjust your bag strap, uncomfortable with how this conversation is veering into territory youâve carefully avoided. âYou of all people should know that.â
He frowns, âDonât you want to celebrate? You helped me pull off a minor academic miracle here.â
âI think youâre exaggerating your previous academic despair,â you hesitated. âBesides, I donât think Iâd fit in with your crowd.â
âMy crowd?â He scoffs. âYouâve never even met my friends.â
âIâve seen enough from a distance, I know enough.â You start walking again, faster now. âThanks for the invitation, but Iâll pass.â
His long strides enable him to keep up with your pace. âCome on, just for an hour. You can leave if you hate it.â
âMingiââÂ
âOne hour, dollâ he repeats. âThatâs all Iâm asking. Iâll personally ensure no one spills anything on you and tries to bother you the whole night.â
Despite yourself, you laugh. âThatâs oddly specific.â
âI know my crowd.â His smile is softer now, more genuine. âPlease? I want you to see that thereâs more to usâto meâthan the stereotypes.â
You study his face, searching for the manipulation, But all you see is sincerity and hope.Â
âFine,â you groaned, not quite believing the words coming out of your mouth. âOne hour. Thatâs it. Iâm leaving the second someone tries to get me to play beer pong.â
His face lights up. âDeal. Iâll text you the details.â
As you part ways, you wonder what exactly youâve just agreed to. Youâve spent nearly three years avoiding exactly this kind of social situation. Loud music, drunk students, the messy intersection of alcohol and attraction. Yet somehow, when Mingi asked, your carefully constructed refusal crumbled.Â
Your roommate squeals when you tell her your weekend plans.
âYouâre going to the end of sem party? With Mingi?â She clutches your arm dramatically. âThis is basically getting an invite from the MET gala!â
âItâs just a thank you for the tutoring,â you explain, trying to sound casual as you sort through your closet. âIâm only staying for an hour.â
âSure,â she drew out the word with obvious disbelief. âThatâs why youâre trying on your fourth outfit.â
You drop the dress youâve been holding up. âI just want to look appropriate.â
âAppropriate for what? Or is it for making mister Song Mingi realise what heâs been missing?â She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
âFor not looking like Iâm trying too hard,â you correct her, settling on dark jeans and a simple top that manages to be both casual and flattering. âThis isnât a date.â
âWhatever you say.â She flops back on your bed. âBy the way, you should know that Mingi doesnât personally invite just anyone to these things. Especially not someone heâs been staring at across classrooms for months.â
âHe hasnât beenââ you begin, but stop when you remember all those times you felt his gaze on you in the library and the lecture hall.
âOh honey,â your roommate giggles, âfor someone so smart, you are so stupid.â
On the night of the party, you and your closet have declared war. What began as a gentle sifting through hangers two hours ago has devolved into a cyclone of black crop tops, frayed denim, and shoes you forgot you owned. Your roommateâs voice, pitch-perfect for the college musical she never auditioned for, belts a running commentary from the bed: âYou look hot in that, but hotter in the other,â and, later, âIf you donât wear that skirt, I will.â For every option you parade, she offers a one-woman panelâs worth of praise, criticism, and lewd suggestions, but when you finally emerge from the pile in a black singlet and the aforementioned denim mini, she sits up so abruptly the bedsprings squeal.
âYes,â she hollered, pointing both index fingers at you as if firing a pair of pistols, âThatâs the one! Fuck you look good.â
You tug at the hem, self-conscious. The skirt is so short your thighs feel like they might spontaneously combust with the friction of walking, and the top is cut low enough to leave no room . The outfit is, by college standards, conservative. By your standards, the edge of a personal revolution. You pace, boots heavy and loud. You layer on a thrifted blazer, then throw it off, then drape it over one arm for insurance. You sit on the edge of the bed, stand again, cross the room to the mirror, assess your reflection from the most punishing angles. You practice smiling in a way that suggests effortless fun rather than âIâm in hell and wish I were home in the comfort of my bed.â
Your roommate paints your lips red, then wipes it off with a tissue, then reapplies in a shade closer to your natural colour.
âThere,â she beams, âlike you rolled out of bed looking like this.â
You try not to look at the clock, but itâs everywhereâon your phone, on the microwave, in the stomp of boots hitting the tile as you stalk the kitchenette looking for a cup to fill, then abandon. Your hands shake when you pour yourself a glass of water. You spill some on your wrist, wipe it away, then notice your palms are already slicked with sweat.
âStop fidgeting.â Your roommateâs tone is gentle, but thereâs a note of command you recognize from years of friendship.
She takes your hands in hers, holds them steady, and says, âYouâre just going to a party. With a boy. Not even a date.â She squeezes your fingers and grins. âYou should be more excited! There might be hook-ups, or at least drama. At the very least, thereâll be free food.â
You want to laugh, but your stomach is a tight fist. Youâve spent the last three years avoiding exactly this scenarioârowdy house parties, the unwritten social contract of collegiate fun, the humiliation of standing awkwardly in a crowd of people who all seem to know exactly how to move, talk, flirt. Youâre not anti-social, not truly, but your preferred company is to be alone with your trusted circle of friends. The thought of plunging into a frat house, even for an hour, makes you want to crawl out of your skin.
And yet. Thereâs Mingi, the wild card. Heâs never made you feel like a project, or an obligation, or a checkmark on a list of collegiate experiences. When he smiles at you, it isnât the rehearsed, camera-ready grin you see him use on campus tour guides or in group photos. Itâs something softer, quieter, reserved for moments when he thinks no one else is watching. You remember the way he said âpleaseâ when he invited you, the way his eyes didnât leave yours even after you tried to look away. He made it sound like this party wasnât just another party, but an extension of the strange, fragile thing growing between the two of you. Youâre not sure you trust it, but you want, for once, to try.
You stall in the doorway, hand poised on the knob, running through possible disasters. Your roommate senses your hesitation, materializing at your side with a pep talk worthy of a sports movie.
âRemember,â she says softly, âyouâre not obligated to like it. Just survive the hour, and if you hate it, Iâll be waiting with post-party ramen and a debrief.â She presses the blazer into your hands and shoves you gently toward the elevator.
You take the stairs instead, one flight, then another, legs trembling with anticipation. The campus is alive with spring: the air is thick with the cloying perfume of flowering trees, the distant thump of bass from speakers, the migration of students in clusters, each group moving toward its own temporary destiny. You keep your head down, hoping to avoid unnecessary conversation. You find yourself counting steps, then counting heartbeats, and by the time you reach the block of houses that host the Greek life ecosystem, youâve rehearsed twenty variations of how to say hello without sounding desperate. You pass a group of girls in matching pastel tank tops, their laughter ricocheting like pinballs off the sidewalk. You duck your head, wondering if they recognize you from Intro to Business Law, but they breeze past without a second glance. In the darkness, your reflection glances back at you from every window: a stranger, confident and composed, even as anxiety gnaws at your insides.
You approach the frat house, the lights already blazing, music leaking from every crack in the siding. In the front yard, a couple makes out with the desperation of people who know theyâll regret it in the morning. A boy in a toga sprints past, pursued by a girl wielding a pool noodle. The porch is a wall of bodies, some familiar, most not, and for a moment you consider walking straight past, circling the block, and returning to your dorm in defeat.
You almost do. Youâre on the verge of turning around when your phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with a text from Mingi: Where are you? Iâll come out front.
Your thumb hovers over the screen. Before you can reply, the front door swings open and there he isâMingi, framed in the doorway like some ridiculous cologne advertisement. Heâs wearing dark jeans and a simple black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms that make your mouth go inexplicably dry. His hair is styled differently tonight, swept back to reveal his forehead in a way that transforms his entire face.
He scans the yard, eyes skipping past you once before snapping back, recognition dawning. When his gaze lands on you properly, something shifts in his expressionâhis confident smile faltering, eyes widening slightly.
âOh,â he says, just that one syllable hanging in the air between you. He clears his throat. âIâyouââ He stops again, seemingly unable to form a complete sentence.
You feel heat creeping up your neck, suddenly hyperaware of every inch of exposed skin. âIs something wrong?â you ask, tugging self-consciously at your skirt.
The question seems to snap him out of his daze. His trademark smile returns, but thereâs something different about itâsomething genuine that settles in your chest in a way you donât quite name.
âNothingâs wrong,â he finally blurts out. âYou just look... different.â He takes a step closer. âGood different I meanâ Like really good different.â
You duck your head, unable to meet his eyes. âItâs just a skirt and top. Nothing special.â
âCouldâve fooled me,â he murmurs, and the sincerity in his voice makes your blush deepen. His confidence seems to grow in direct proportion to your bashfulness, and he extends his hand to you. âCome on. Let me introduce you to some people who arenât total disasters.â
You place your hand in his, telling yourself itâs just to be polite, but the warmth of his palm against yours sends a current up your arm. He guides you through the crowded doorway, his body naturally creating a buffer between you and the jostling partygoers. Youâre fully aware of his proximity, the cologne heâs wearing, the way his hand occasionally brushes against the small of your back as he leads you deeper into the house.
The living room has been transformed into a makeshift dance floor, furniture pushed against walls to make space. The kitchen beyond is crowded with people mixing drinks and laughing over red cups. Mingi steers you away from both, toward a slightly quieter corner where a group of guys are engaged in animated conversation.
âHey,â he calls out, and seven heads turn in perfect unison. âThis is my econ tutor, the one Iâve been telling you guys about.â
Youâre suddenly faced with an assembly of some of the most attractive men youâve ever seen in one place, each with a distinctive style that somehow works in harmony with the others. They regard you with varying expressions of curiosity and amusement.
âSo youâre the one who got our Mingi to actually open a textbook,â a guy with sharp features and an even sharper smile walks up to the both of you. âIâm Hongjoong. House president.â
âCo-president,â Mingi corrects, rolling his eyes.
âPfft whatever dude,â Hongjoong waves dismissively. âThis is Seonghwaââ he gestures to a tall, elegant-looking man who offers you a polite nod, ââYunhoââ a friendly giant with dark hair raises his cup in greeting, ââYeosangââ a guy with delicate features and knowing eyes gives you a small smile, ââSanââ an energetic man with dimples deep enough to drown in waves enthusiastically, ââWooyoungââ a mischievous-looking guy with red hair winks at you, ââand Jongho.â The last member, compact but powerful-looking, gives you a respectful bow.
âNice to finally meet the person whoâs been occupying all our friendâs time,â Wooyoung whistles.
âAnd thoughts,â San adds, earning him a death glare from Mingi.
You shift uncomfortably under their collective gaze, but their smiles are genuine, lacking the judgment you expected from Mingiâs inner circle.
âDonât believe anything they tell you about me,â Mingi says, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your ear. âEspecially Wooyoung. Heâs a pathological liar.â
âNuh uh, thatâs just not true!â Wooyoung protests. âI only lie on Tuesdays and public holidays.â
The group erupts in laughter, and to your surprise, you find yourself laughing along. Thereâs an easy camaraderie among them that feels inclusive rather than exclusive, drawing you in despite your reservations.
âMingi says youâre top of the econ department,â Seonghwa mentioned, his voice calm and measured. âThatâs impressive.â
Before you can respond, Yunho chimes in: âHe wouldnât shut up about how you explained game theory using poker analogies. Said it was ârevolutionaryâ or some shit.â
âI did not say revolutionary,â Mingi denies, but the pink tinging his ears tells a different story.
âYou did,â Jongho confirms flatly. âMultiple times. Over breakfast.â
You glance at Mingi, oddly touched that heâs spoken about your tutoring sessions to his friends. âIt wasnât anything special. Heâs actually really quick to grasp concepts once theyâre explained properly.â
Mingi grins at the group. âSee? I told you guys Iâm not just a pretty face.â He sticks his tongue out at them, more out of habit than real offence.
âNo one said you were just a pretty face,â Hongjoong replies, tone even. âWe said youâre a pretty face that just so happened to be a little bit stupid.â
Mingi scoffs under his breath, but heâs smiling anyway. âThatâs not better.â
âItâs accurate,â Hongjoong snorted.
The banter continues, and you find yourself relaxing into it, surprised by how comfortable you feel among them. Theyâre not what you expectedânot the stereotypical frat boys youâve spent years avoiding. Theyâre smart, funny, and surprisingly thoughtful in their questions to you.
After a while, Mingi leans in again. âHow are you feeling? Do you want a drink? Or maybe some air?â
You nod gratefully. âFresh air would be nice.â
He places his hand lightly on your back again, guiding you toward a set of French doors that lead to a back deck. The night air is cool against your skin, a welcome respite from the heat of bodies packed inside. The deck is strung with fairy lights that cast a soft glow over the wooden boards, and surprisingly, itâs empty except for a few potted plants.
âThe secret balcony,â Mingi explains, seeing your questioning look. âOff-limits to regular party guests. One of the perks of being house leadership.â
âSo Iâm not a regular party guest?â you raise an eyebrow, leaning against the railing.
âOf course not, you are far from it,â he mutters under his breath that makes your breath falter.
You both fall silent for a moment, the bass from inside creating a muted heartbeat beneath your conversation. You canât quite decide whatâs more surprisingâthat youâre here like this, or that itâs with Mingi of all people. You settle on not thinking too hard about either.
âYour friends are nice,â you finally break the silence. âNot what I expected.â
âWhat did you expect?â He leans next to you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.
âLoud, obnoxious frat bros talking about the typical one night stand and having the collective IQ of a houseplant.â
He laughs, the sound warm and genuine. âOh, they can be loud and obnoxious too. But theyâre also the best people I know.â
He pauses, looking out over the dimly-lit yard. âWe all have our reasons for being here, you know? Hongjoongâs parents expected him to join their firm right after high school, but he wanted to go to college first. Seonghwa supports his younger siblings through school. Jonghoâs on a full academic scholarship.â
You turn to look at him, surprised by this glimpse behind the fraternity façade. âAnd you? Whatâs your reason?â
Heâs quiet for a long moment, and when he speaks, his voice has lost its usual confident edge. âMy grandfather, the one I told you about, He was the first person in our family to go to college. He wanted to see me graduate more than anything.â His fingers tap against the railing, a nervous gesture youâve never seen from him before. âHe passed away during my senior year of high school.â
âOh Iâm sorry,â you say softly.
âItâs okay. I mean, itâs not, but...â He went on. âI promised him Iâd make the most of college. Not just academically, but the whole experience. The brotherhood, the leadership opportunities, all of it.â
âIs that why youâre so determined to keep your GPA up? For your scholarship?â
âPartly,â he admits. âMainly because I donât want to just be the party guy, you know? I want people to realise Iâm capable and somewhat intelligent.âÂ
Without really thinking about it, you close the remaining distance just enough for your hand to brush his. Itâs tentative at first, almost accidental. When he doesnât pull away, your fingers curl lightly around his. Mingi stills. For someone whoâs always in motion, always talking, always performing, the sudden quiet in him is striking. His gaze drops to where your hands are joined, like heâs trying to process it, like thisâyouâis the one thing he never quite learned how to anticipate.
âItâs not a bad thing,â you say softly, your thumb brushing once, unconsciously, over his knuckles. âWanting people to see more than what meets the eye.â
His hand shifts in yours, not pulling awayâsettling. Grounding.
âI know what itâs like,â you add, quieter now. âBeing reduced to something simple. Convenient. Even if itâs⊠impressive on paper.â
That earns a small huff of laughter from him, but malice behind it. Just something tired, something honest.
âYeah,â he murmurs. âGuess weâre both victims of stereotyping huh.â
You smile faintly. âI guess we are.â
And then it hits you. The warmth. The contact. The fact that your hand is still wrapped around his. Your fingers twitch slightly, awareness crashing in all at once, and you pull backâjust a little too quickly to be entirely casual. The absence of him is immediate, the cool night air slipping into the space where his warmth had been. Mingi notices. Of course he does. Something flickers across his face, it was subtle but you saw it there momentarily. A small dip at the corner of his mouth, a hesitation like he almost reaches for you again before stopping himself. Itâs gone just as quickly, replaced by something lighter, easier, like heâs filing the moment away instead of questioning it. He clears his throat, glancing out in the distance.Â
âCareful,â he teases. âKeep doing that and I might start thinking you actually like me.â
You scoff, grateful for the shift. âDonât get ahead of yourself.â
âTragic,â he sighs dramatically. âHere I was, planning our future.â
âIn your dreams.â
âBold of you to assume youâre not already there.â
You roll your eyes, but a laugh escapes you anyway, the tension dissolving into something softer, more familiar. For a moment, you simply stand together in comfortable silence, watching the party unfold below. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the angles youâve studied during countless tutoring sessions.
âCan I ask you something?â he says finally, turning to face you.
âYou just did.â
He rolls his eyes. âWhy did you agree to tutor me? I asked some other people in our class and they said you turned them down.â
You consider the question, surprised by his awareness of your other rejections. âHonestly? You seemed desperate. Plus you actually pay me on time.â
âOuch,â he winces, but his smile remains. âAt least youâre honest.â
âWhy did you ask me?â you counter. âThere are plenty of other tutors on campus.â
He looks down at his hands, suddenly serious. âYou were the only one who looked at me and didnât see what everyone else saw.â
âAnd whatâs that?â
âYou know the usual stereotypes,â He shrugs, a gesture that carries more weight than it should. âEveryone thinks they know me because they hear all about my reputation.â
Something in his tone makes you pause, recognizing a sentiment that echoes your own experience. âI get that,â you say quietly. âPeople are like that with me too. They think what we are at face value is what we truly are.â
âIsnât it?â His question is gentle, not challenging.
You shake your head. âNo more than youâre just a frat boy who happens to look good in a button-down.â
He raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours, âYou think I look good?â
âDonât fish for compliments,â you scold as you bite back a smile. âYour ego is big enough already.â
âThere you go again, humbling me.â His gaze softens as he steps closer. âI like that about you. You never let me get away with anything.â
You tilt your head, crossing your arms loosely. âYeah? I know thereâs a lot of things you like about me.â
His eyebrows lift, a slow grin spreading across his face. âYeah?â
âYeah,â you continue, feigning nonchalance. âMy intelligence. My work ethic. My incredible patience for difficult studentsââ
ââwoah, woah,â he cuts in, laughing. âWhen did this turn into a self-evaluation?â
âYou asked,â you shoot back. âIâm just being thorough.â
He steps closer, close enough now that the teasing edge softens into something warmer. âYou missed a few.â
âOh?â you raise an eyebrow. âEnlighten me.â
âThe way you pretend not to care,â he responded quietly. âBut still show up anyway.â
Your breath catches slightly, but you recover. âThatâs not a quality. Thatâs just⊠basic decency.â
âMm,â he hums, unconvinced. âAnd the way you look at me when you think Iâm not paying attention.â
You freeze. âI do notââ
âYou do,âÂ
You swallow, your voice coming out just above a whisper. âWhat does that look mean, according to you?â
He studies you for a moment, like heâs debating whether to say it.
âLike youâre trying really hard not to like me.â
Your heart stumbles over itself.
âThatâs a bold assumption,â you manage.
âIs it, doll?âÂ
Thereâs barely any space left between you now. Youâre aware of everything. How close he was to you, the warmth radiating off him, the way his gaze drops briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. Your own breath feels too loud in your chest.
âThis feels like youâre fishing for compliments again,â you say, but your voice lacks its usual bite.
âMaybe,â he admits easily. âOnly from you, though.â
The honesty of it lands heavier than it should. Your fingers twitch at your side, like they remember what it felt like to hold his hand. Like they want to again.
âMingiââ you start, though youâre not entirely sure what youâre going to say.
He leans in slightly. Not rushed. Not cocky. Careful. Like heâs giving you time to stop him. You donât. Your eyes flick down to his lips for just a secondâlong enough for him to noticeâand thatâs all it takes. The air shifts, something unspoken settling between you as you both lean in, slow and almost hesitantâ
âYo! Mingi!â
The moment shatters. You both jerk back slightly as the deck door swings open. Wooyoung steps out, slightly breathless, eyes flicking between the two of you with immediate recognitionâand absolutely zero subtlety.
âOh shit,â he says, smirking. âAm I interrupting something?â
âWhat do you think?,â Mingi says flatly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
âTragic,â his red haired friend replies, not looking sorry in the slightest. âHongjoongâs looking for you. Something about the DJ setup dying and you being âuseless but still required.ââ
Mingi closes his eyes briefly, exhaling. âOf course he is.â
Wooyoung gaze shifts back to you, smile softening. âHey, youâre staying, right? Itâs just getting good.â
You hesitate. And Mingi notices.
His attention snaps back to you, something apologetic in his expression. âIâgive me ten minutes? Iâll come find you.â
You glance toward the house, the noise, the crowd, the overwhelming swirl of everything youâve been holding at bay all night. Then back at him. At the almost-kiss still lingering in the space between you. By the way your chest feels too full, too tight, like you donât quite know what to do with everything youâre suddenly feeling.
âI thinkâŠâ you start, then pause, shaking your head slightly. âI should probably head out.â
His expression drops, just a fraction. âAlready?â
âI stayed longer than I planned,â you say, offering a small smile. âI have an early morning.â
Itâs a weak excuse. You both know it. But he doesnât call you out on it. Instead, he nods slowly, stepping back just enough to give you spaceâeven if he doesnât seem to want t
âRight. Yeah. Of course.â He rubs the back of his neck. âThanks for coming. I can walk youââ
âNo need, I can see myself out,â you reply softly. âThanks for inviting me, I had a really good time.âÂ
Thereâs a beat. Something unfinished is hanging between you.
âGet home safe,â he adds, quieter now.
âI will.â
You turn before you can overthink it. Before you can look at him again and change your mind and make your way back through the house. The music feels louder now, the lights harsher, the press of bodies more suffocating than before. By the time you step outside into the cool night air, your head is spinning. Not from the party. From him. From the way he looked at you like that. You exhale slowly, starting down the path back to your dorm, your fingers curling slightly at your sides.
Your key turns in the lock with a sharp click that echoes through the empty hallway. The walk back to your dorm passed in a blur. Your mind replaying those moments on the deck over and over, his face so close to yours, the almost-kiss thatâs now branded into your memory as a question mark.
Your roommate looks up from her laptop, eyes widening when she sees you. âYouâre back early! I thoughtââ She pauses, taking in your expression. âWhat happened?â
You drop your bag and collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. âI think I just made a huge mistake.â
âWhat did he do? Babe I swear if he tried anythingââ Sheâs immediately on alert, sitting up straighter.
âNo,â you shake your head, pressing your palms against your eyes. âThe opposite. He was... perfect. His friends were really nice, funny too. The party wasnât terrible. And we almost kissed, and then IâI ran away.â
âYou what?â She scrambles off her bed and sits next to you. âBack up. You almost kissed him and then you left?â
âWe got interrupted, and then I just... panicked.â You sit up, hugging your knees to your chest. âI donât know whatâs happening to me.â
Your roommate studies your face, her expression softening into something you havenât seen beforeâconcern mixed with understanding.Â
âHoly shit,â she mumbled. âYou like him.â
âNo,â you protest automatically, then trail off. âMaybe. Shit. I donât know?â Your voice muffles as you bury your face in your hands. âThis is so stupid. Iâve spent years avoiding guys exactly like him.â
âExcept heâs not exactly like anyone, is he?â She nudges your shoulder gently. âNot if heâs got you this fucked up.â
You groan. âThatâs the problem. Heâs supposed to be this shallow frat boy who only cares about parties and hookups, but then he goes and talks about his grandfather and his friends and looks at me likeâlikeââ
âLike what?â she prompts.
âLike I matter,â you cried out, wiping away the tears from your face. âNot just as a tutor or someone to boost his grade. Like he actually enjoys my company.â
Sheâs quiet for a moment, then says, âIâve never seen you like this over anyone before.â
âThatâs because Iâve never felt like this before,â you admit, the words coming out in a rush. âIâve probably ruined it by running away like some character in a bad rom-com.â
âYou donât understand.â You get up, pacing the small space between your beds. âI had this whole image of him in my headâŠthis whole narrative about who he was and what he wanted. It was so much easier when I could just dismiss him as just some guy. But heâs not, and now I donât know what to do with that.â
âMaybe you could try, oh I donât know, talking to him?â Your roommate suggests, her tone gently teasing you as she hands you a tissue.
âAnd say what? âSorry I ran away when we were about to kiss, Iâm just terrified because I might actually like youâ?â
âThat sounds like a start.â
You collapse back onto your bed with a groan. âI fucked up so bad.â
âMaybe,â she concedes, âbut not irreparably.â She picks up your phone from where you dropped it and holds it out to you. âText him.â
You stare at the phone like it might bite you. âLike now?â
âYes, now. Before you overthink it even more than you already have.â
Your fingers hover over the screen, hesitant. âWhat do I even say?â
âThe truth,â she says simply. âOr at least part of it.â
You take a deep breath and start typing, deleting, typing again. After what feels like an eternity, you hit send on a simple message: Sorry for leaving so abruptly. Ty for tonight.
The response comes faster than you expected, your phone buzzing in your hand almost immediately: All good. Did u get home safe?
Something in your chest loosens just slightly. Heâs still talking to you, at least. You type back: Yea, made it back like 5 mins ago.
Three dots appear, disappear, appear again: Can I call you tomorrow?
Your heart does a strange little flip. âHe wants to call me tomorrow,â you tell your roommate, your voice sounding strange even to your own ears.
She grins. âSee? Not ruined.â
You type back a quick âSureâ before you can second-guess yourself.
His response is just as quick: Good. Sleep well, doll.
Despite everything, you find yourself smiling at the nickname. Your roommate peers over your shoulder, reading the exchange.
âOh, youâve got it bad,â she says jokingly. âFrom the looks of it, so does he.â
âThis is such a mess,â you sigh, but thereâs less despair in it now. âIâm supposed to be the level-headed one. The one who doesnât get caught up in... whatever this is.â
âMaybe thatâs exactly why you need this,â she suggests, returning to her own bed. âWhen was the last time you did something just because it made you feel good, not because it was the smart, practical choice?â
You donât have an answer for that. As you lie in bed, sleep eluding you, you replay the night in your head. The way Mingi looked at you on that deck, the warmth of his hand in yours, the honesty in his voice when he talked about wanting to be seen as more than his reputation. You think about how easily you could have stayed, how different the night might have ended if you had just stayed with him.
âHe said heâd call,â you mutter to yourself during lunch, checking your notifications for the fifth time in an hour.
By mid-afternoon, anxiety has settled into a knot in your stomach. Was leaving the party abruptly really such a dealbreaker? Or worseâwas the almost-kiss just another moment for him, easily forgotten once you walked away?
Your roommate finds you hunched over economics papers in your dorm, highlighter poised but motionless over the same paragraph youâve been staring at for twenty minutes.
âStill nothing?âÂ
You shake your head, trying to appear more focused on your work than you actually are. âItâs fine. Heâs probably busy with frat stuff.â
âHeâs nursing a hangover,â she mused, flopping onto her bed. âThose parties donât exactly end early.â
âYeah, probably.â You force your attention back to your notes, determined not to care.
The sun begins to set, casting long shadows across your desk. Youâve moved on to grading papers for the professor you TA for, a task that usually requires your full concentration. Tonight, however, each essay blurs into the next as your mind wanders back to the deck, to Mingiâs face inches from yours. At 7:38 PM, your phone finally rings. You nearly knock over your coffee reaching for it, heart leaping into your throat when you see his name on the screen. Taking a deep breath, you answer with what you hope is casual nonchalance.
âHello?â
âHey.â His voice comes through warm and slightly hesitant. âIs this a bad time?â
âNo, just grading some papers.â You lean back in your chair, trying to ignore how your pulse has quickened. âHow was your day?â
âLong,â he admits with a soft laugh. âHad to deal with some post-party clean up that was... not ideal.â
âSounds rough,â you say, picturing the chaos that must have followed after you left.
Thereâs a brief pause before he speaks again. âListen, I was wondering if youâd want to grab some ice cream? Thereâs this place near the science building that stays open late.â
You glance at your half-finished work, then at the clock. âNow?â
âYeah, if youâre not too busy. I just...â He hesitates. âI think we should talk. In person.â
Your stomach drops. Those words never precede anything good.
âOh,â you manage. âSure. I could use a break anyway.â
âGreat.â The relief in his voice is palpable. âMeet you there in twenty?â
âMake it thirty,â you say, already mentally cataloguing what youâre wearingâsweatpants and an oversized university hoodie, not exactly what youâd choose for whatever conversation is coming.
After hanging up, you change quickly into jeans and a sweater thatâs slightly more presentable, running a brush through your hair and dabbing on lip balm before you can question why youâre bothering. Your roommate watches with barely concealed amusement.
âJust ice cream, huh?â
âShut up,â you mutter, grabbing your keys. âHe probably just wants to clear the air so tutoring isnât awkward.â
She raises an eyebrow. âSure. Thatâs definitely it.â
The walk to the ice cream shop takes exactly twelve minutesânot that youâre counting. When you arrive, you spot Mingi immediately, leaning against the wall outside. He straightens when he sees you, his expression brightening in a way that makes your heart stutter.
âHey,â he greets you, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. âThanks for coming.â
âFor free ice cream? Iâd be an idiot if I refused.â You aim for lightness, but your voice comes out slightly strained.
Inside, the shop is nearly empty, just a couple of students hunched over laptops in the corner. Mingi insists on paying despite your protests, and soon youâre seated at a small table by the window, a scoop of chocolate chip melting slowly in your cup. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You focus intently on your ice cream, hyperaware of his presence across from you.
âSo uh,â he finally breaks the tension, setting down his spoon. âAbout last night.â
You look up to find him watching you, his expression more serious than youâve ever seen it. âWhat about it?â you ask, playing for time.
He leans forward slightly. âI wanted to make sure I didnât... misread things.â
Heat rises to your cheeks. âYou didnât,â you admit quietly.
Relief flickers across his face. âThen why did you leave?â
The directness of the question catches you off guard. You consider deflecting, making a joke, but something in his eyesâan earnestness youâre not used to seeingâmakes you opt for honesty.
âI got scared,â you say simply.
His brow furrows. âOf me?â
âNo.â You shake your head. âNo this. Whatever is happening between us.â You gesture vaguely, as if that could dissolve it. âIt wasnât part of the plan.â
âThe plan?â he echoes.
âMy plan,â you clarify. âGraduate top of my class, get into a top-tier MBA program, no distractions.â You poke at your melting ice cream.
The words come easier than they should, like youâve said them enough times to believe theyâre ironclad. You scoop a fragile curl of choc chip into your mouth, watching it soften instantly, the chill doing nothing to settle the rest of you.
Mingi doesnât look away. But something shifts in his expressionâsubtle, unreadable.
âYou think this is a distraction,â he says quietly, like heâs testing the shape of the idea. Thereâs no bitterness in it, just a blunt apprehension that makes you want to fold in on yourself.
The words thud between you, heavier than any textbook youâve ever carried. You set your spoon down, forced to confront the truth youâve been working so hard to avoid: it would be much simpler if you could blame him. If the whole thing could be chalked up to a fluke in your otherwise disciplined trajectory: a blip, a party, a night on a deck that would fade with the semester. However, the real distraction is the way your mind keeps circling back to him even when heâs not there, the way your heart does that ridiculous stutter every time you see his name on your screen, the wayâsitting here with him nowâyou feel some distant tectonic plate in your chest begin to shift. You hesitate. Then, because youâve already started, you let it spill anyway.
âItâs not just that,â you admit. âI never planned on⊠this happening at all. And I definitely never thought youâdââ You stop yourself, exhaling a short, humourless breath. âLike, someone like me.â
His brow furrows slightly. âSomeone like you?â
You gesture faintly, as if the words make sense on their own. âYou know. You. Me. I justâ I always assumed you wouldnât go for someone like me. That you wouldnât even look twice.â
The admission sits between you, heavier than you intended. Mingi leans back slightly, hands folding together, but not in his usual relaxed way. More like heâs trying to steady something. Then he lets out a breathâhalf laugh, half disbelief.
âIâve been trying so hard to get you to notice me.â He says, shaking his head once.
You blink. âWhat?â
He looks at you properly now, like the answer shouldâve been obvious all along. âYou think Iâm out of your league,â he says, almost incredulous. âI thought you were out of mine.â
That makes you go still. Before you can respond, he continues, voice softer now.
âYouâreââ He stops, like the word itself isnât enough. âYouâre genuinely one of the most interesting people Iâve met. And youâre not just smart, youâreâŠâ He exhales through his nose, like he hates how obvious it is. âYouâre really fucking beautiful. And your brain? Thatâs honestly the most attractive part of you. I thought people were dramatic when they said intelligence was sexy, man I was so wrong.â
Your breath catches, and you hate that it does.
âI like what we are,â he adds, a little quieter. âThe banter, the way you talk back to me, the way you donât justââ He gestures vaguely, searching for the word. âFold. Itâs fun. Itâs different. Itâs⊠real.â
The honesty lands clumsily, unpolished in a way that feels impossible to fake. You look down at your ice cream before it fully melts.
âThatâs⊠not what I expected you to say,â you admit.
âYeah,â he says, a small, self-aware smile tugging at his mouth. âJoin the club.â
âI know itâs unfair to judge you based on campus gossip, but...â You take a deep breath. âIâm scared of being just another story people whisper about in bathroom stalls.â
Mingi reaches across the table, his fingers hovering near yours without quite touching. âCan I?â he asks quietly.
You nod, and his warm hand covers yours, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.
âListen to me,â he says, voice low and serious. âI wonât pretend I havenât made mistakes. I have. But Iâve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.â His eyes hold yours, unwavering.
âHow can I know that?â you whisper, voicing the fear thatâs been lodged in your chest since the moment on the deck.
âLet me prove it to you,â he says with such conviction that your throat tightens. âNot with words or promises, but with time. With consistency.â His grip on your hand tightens slightly. âIâm not asking you to trust me completely right away. Iâm asking for a chance to earn that trust.â
You study his face, searching for any sign of the practiced charm youâve seen him deploy across campus. All you find is raw sincerity that makes your heart race.
âWhat exactly are you suggesting?â
âLet me show you who I really am,â a small, vulnerable smile touches his lips. âI promise Iâll put all those stupid rumours to rest. No pressure, no expectations.â
âIf it doesnât work out?â The practical part of your brain needs to know thereâs an exit strategy.
âThen we go back to being tutor and student, friends if you want,â he says, though something flickers in his eyes that suggests it wouldnât be that simple for him. âI think we at least owe ourselves the chance to find out.â
You look down at your joined hands, feeling yourself wavering on the precipice of something that terrifies and thrills you in equal measure.
âOkay,â you find yourself saying, the word slipping out before you can overthink it. âIâll give us a chance.â
The smile that breaks across his face is nothing like his usual confident grin. Itâs wider, brighter, almost boyish in its genuine delight.
âYeah?â he asks, as if he canât quite believe it.
âYeah,â you confirm, a small smile forming on your own lips. âBut I have conditions.â
He laughs softly, squeezing your hand. âOf course you do. Iâd be disappointed if you didnât have any.â
âWe take it slow,â you say firmly. âFor now, this is just between us. Iâm not ready to tell everyone about us just yet.â
âAbsolutely,â he agrees immediately. âWhat else?â
âIf at any point I feel like this is becoming too muchââ
âWe reassess,â he finishes for you. âI understand.â
You nod, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. âOne more thing.â
âName it.â
âNo more surprise coffees during tutoring,â you let out a laugh, you hope that he doesnât take this rule too seriously.Â
He clutches his chest dramatically. âWow. Mind you, those were gifts from the heart.â
âThe heart doesnât need caffeine to function properly,â you counter.
âDebatable,â he grins, then grows serious again. âI promise to uphold all the boundaries that you have. If at any point you want outs, just say the word and we can call it off.â
Thereâs something in his voiceâa quiet determinationâthat makes you believe him, despite all your carefully constructed defences.
âSo,â he wonders, leaning forward slightly, ânow that weâve established the ground rules... Can I walk you home?â
âThat would be nice,â you smile, finishing the last of your now-soupy ice cream.
Outside, the night air is cool against your skin. Your campus is quiet at this hour, most students either at the library or locked in their rooms studying. Mingi walks beside you, close enough that your arms occasionally brush, sending little sparks of awareness through you each time. The conversation falls into a comfortable silence as you walk side by side through the moonlit campus. Your mind races with everything thatâs just happenedâthe confessions, the promises, the beginning of something neither of you had planned. Mingiâs hand occasionally brushes against yours, each contact sending little jolts through your system, but he doesnât try to hold it. True to his word, heâs letting you set the pace.
âSo,â he says as you approach your dormitory, âI was thinking maybe we could get dinner? Whenever youâre free⊠O-of course.â
The earnestness in his voice makes your heart flutter. âIâd love to.â
You stop at the entrance to your building, turning to face him. The lamplight catches in his dark eyes, making them shine with something that looks suspiciously like hope.
âThank you,â you mumbled quietly.
His brow furrows slightly. âFor what?â
âFor being patient and understanding.â You shift your weight, suddenly feeling shy.Â
A smile curves his lips. âIâm full of surprises.â
âIâm beginning to see that.â
Thereâs a moment of hesitation. A breath where you both stand looking at each other, the air between you charged with possibility. You make a decision, stepping forward before you can overthink it. Rising slightly on your toes, you press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
âGoodnight, Mingi,â you murmur, pulling back to see his eyes wide with surprise.
âGoodnight,â he coughs out, voice slightly rougher than before.
You turn quickly, swiping your keycard and slipping through the door before you can change your mind. Once inside, you canât resist glancing back through the glass panel. Mingi stands frozen for a moment, hand raised to the spot where your lips touched his skin. Then, when he thinks youâve gone, a transformation takes place. The cool, confident frat president dissolves into something entirely different. He pumps his fist in the air, does a little spin, and breaks into what can only be described as a victory danceâall limbs and unbridled joy, like a kid who just got exactly what he wanted for his birthday. He runs his hands through his hair, grinning so wide it must hurt, before composing himself and walking away with an extra bounce in his step. You press your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh. Something warm blooms in your chest at the sight of himâcampus heartbreaker, fraternity president, supposed playerâcelebrating a simple kiss on the cheek like itâs the greatest achievement of his life.
Maybe thereâs more to him than you ever allowed yourself to see.
The following weeks unfold in a series of moments that feel stolen from someone elseâs life. Mingi keeps his promise about taking things slow, but he finds other ways to show you heâs serious.
It starts with little things. A sticky note on your economics textbook when you leave it unattended for two minutes in the library: âStudy Well!.â A cup of tea waiting for you before an early morning class, with honey already added the way you mentioned you like it once in passing.
Your tutoring sessions continue, but thereâs a new undercurrent to them now. You maintain professionalismâmostlyâbut sometimes his fingers brush yours when youâre explaining a concept, lingering just a second too long to be accidental. Sometimes you catch him watching you with a softness in his eyes that makes your chest ache in the best way.
âFocus,â you scold during one such session, tapping your pencil against his notebook. âOur midterms are in coming up soon.â
âI am focusing,â he protests, eyes never leaving your face. âJust not on economics.â
You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. âLooking at me isnât going to help boost your GPA.â
âIf it means looking at the prettiest girl in the room, itâs worth it,â he shrugs and the sincerity in his voice makes heat rise to your cheeks.
Walking with him after your brain numbing study sessions become so integral to your guysâ routine. It feels a little strange at first but when Mingiâs hand tentatively finds yours, all the stress melts away at his touch.
âYou know,â he says during one such walk, âkeeping you secret is killing me. The guys think Iâve gone celibate or something.â
You elbow him gently. âYour reputation could use the hit.â
âTrue,â he laughs, squeezing your hand. âFor the record, this is the longest Iâve gone without posting on social media in ages.â
Mingi has been careful about keeping your relationship private. No Instagram stories featuring your coffee dates, no posts of your study sessions that sometimes devolve into conversations about everything and nothing. Just the two of you, learning each other in private moments stolen between classes and responsibilities.
One rainy Tuesday, he shows up at your dorm with takeout from your favorite Thai place and a stack of economics flash cards he made himself.
âI figured we could multitask,â he beams, setting up the food on your desk.Â
Your roommate, whoâs been watching this unfold with barely concealed delight, grabs her jacket. âAnd thatâs my cue to give you two some privacy,â she announces, winking at you on her way out.
Once sheâs gone, Mingi turns to you with a sheepish smile. âToo much?â
You shake your head, oddly touched by the gesture. âNo, itâs perfect. Iâm just not used to anyone doing this for me.â
His expression softens. âWell that's too bad, doll, start getting used to it.â
The study session is productiveâmostly. At first, the two of you really do focus, perched shoulder to shoulder with a blanket across your knees, pencils poised as you quiz each other from the stack of flash cards. For a solid twenty minutes, you run through concepts, definitions, and theoretical graphs, congratulating each other with exaggerated fist bumps for every correct answer. Mingi is sharp, more so than you expected, but he keeps getting tripped up on the same three formulas, and each time he stumbles, you make him recite them from memory until he gets it right. By the fourth round, youâre both dissolving into laughter at his increasingly creative mnemonic devices.
Eventually, the flash cards are abandoned in favor of pad thai and mango sticky rice. You eat cross-legged on the floor, passing the container back and forth, chopsticks clacking as the conversation drifts from academics to childhood memories, to music, to the merits of various ramen brands. Mingi tells you a story about getting locked in a janitorâs closet during a fraternity scavenger hunt, and you laugh so hard you nearly spill sweet chili sauce all over your leggings. He grins, watching you with open affection, and you feel your defenses slipping a little more with each shared story, each easy silence.
You mean to get back to studying, really you do, but by the time your plates are empty, youâre both sprawled out on the rug, heads tipped together, trading lazy jokes and favorite movie quotes. The stack of flash cards lies forgotten somewhere behind you. Mingi stretches his arm behind your head, not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. Youâre acutely aware that you said you wanted to take things slow, but now, in the soft glow of your desk lamp, with rain pattering gently against the window, slow feels less like a rule and more like a suggestion.
At some point, you roll onto your side to face him. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you resist the urge to reach over and smooth it down. He catches the look in your eyes and grins, that same vulnerable curve of mouth you saw outside your dorm, and you realize youâre not even sure what youâre waiting for anymore. The next hour is a blur of tangled limbs, whispered jokes, and the kind of laughter that leaves your ribs aching. You donât kissâat least, not on the lipsâbut you end up with your head tucked against his shoulder, his hand tracing idle, feather-light circles on your back as you drift in and out of half-sleep. The textbooks are forgotten, the only thing that matters is the slow, steady rise and fall of his breath and the way it syncs perfectly with yours.
You donât let him stay the night but you walk him to the door at midnight, both of you lingering in the hallway far longer than necessary.
âTomorrow again?â he asks, voice low.
âTomorrow,â you echo, smiling so hard it almost hurts.
You close the door behind him and press your forehead to the wood, equal parts giddy and terrified at how easy this is starting to feel.
Thatâs how it goes, week after week. Study sessions that turn into late-night conversations, walks that stretch on for hours, endless cups of tea and takeout and inside jokes that no one else would ever find funny. You find yourself looking for him everywhere: in the crowd of the dining hall, in the hush of the library at midnight, in the flicker of lamplight outside your window when you canât sleep. Every time he appears, it feels like a secret only the two of you share. You start to notice the little ways he tries to care for you. The umbrella he brings when the forecast calls for rain, the pack of your favourite pens he leaves in your backpack before a big test, the playlist he makes for your morning runs, even though he canât stand three-quarters of your âmotivationalâ music. You tell yourself not to read into any of it, but you do. Youâre hopelessly, helplessly reading into every tiny thing.
The night before your economics midterm, you meet up in the libraryâs quietest corner, both of you vibrating with nerves. He brings snacks and a fresh stack of flash cards, all hand-written in his messy scrawl, and the two of you settle in for a marathon review. For once, you manage to stay on task, quizzing each other with increasing intensity until youâre both exhausted. When the clock chimes one in the morning, you start to pack up, but Mingi hesitates, his hand hovering over the pile of books.
âYouâre going to ace it,â he says, voice unexpectedly earnest.
You shake your head, smiling. âOnly if you donât distract me during the exam.â
âThatâs going to be impossible,â he laughs, but thereâs something softer in his eyes. âIâll try my best.â
You snort, shouldering your bag. âI sure hope so.â
As you walk him out into the silent quad, he reaches for your handânot tentative anymore, not asking permission, just doing it. You let him. The campus is empty, the sky ink-black and starless, and it feels like the entire world has narrowed to just the two of you, hands entwined, hearts beating a little too fast. He stops at the steps of your dorm, pulling you in for a hug that lasts a few seconds longer than normal. You memorize the feeling: the way his arms wrap around you, how he smells like detergent and the faintest hint of aftershave, the way his cheek fits perfectly against your temple. He reminds you to get some sleep, even as he lingers like he has no real intention of leaving just yet. You echo the sentiment back to him, a quiet reminder about his final. Thereâs a brief pauseâsomething unspoken stretching between youâbefore you part with a soft, almost reluctant goodbye, the kind that feels less like an ending and more like something paused.
The morning of the midterm arrives with an electric tension in the air. You walk into the lecture hall, scanning the rows of nervous students until you spot Mingi. Heâs hunched over his notes, frantically reviewing formulas, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. When he sees you, his face brightens momentarily before anxiety clouds his features again.
âDoll, I canât remember anything,â he whispers as you slide into the seat beside him. âItâs all just... gone.â
You reach over and gently close his textbook. âHey, breathe. You know this material better than you think.â
âEasy for you to say.â His voice cracks slightly. âWhat if I blank? What if everything we worked on just disappears the moment I see the test?â
You take his trembling hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. âLook at me. Youâve put in the work. You understand the concepts. Trust yourself.â
He exhales slowly, eyes locked on yours. âI just... I canât mess this up. Not after everything.â
âYou wonât,â you say with such conviction that he almost seems to believe you. âRemember what you told me about game theory? Itâs not about the cards, itâs aboutââ
ââunderstanding the patterns,â he finishes, a small smile forming. âThe incentives.â
âExactly. And youâve got this. I know you do.â
Professor Kim enters the room, silencing the anxious chatter. As she distributes the exams, Mingi gives your hand one last squeeze before letting go. You mouth âgood luckâ to him before turning to your own test.
The exam is challenging, even for you. Two hours of intense concentration, complex problems, and theoretical applications that make your brain ache. Occasionally, you glance at Mingi. His brow is furrowed in concentration, pencil moving steadily across the paper. No panic, no hesitation. Just focused determination that fuels your own.
When time is called, you feel drained but satisfied. Mingi looks up from his paper, meeting your eyes across the room with an expression of cautious optimism.
âHowâd it go?â you ask as you both file out of the lecture hall.
âI think... I think it went okay,â he says, sounding almost surprised. âThat section on monopolistic competition? I nailed it.â
âSee? I told you.â
He laughs, running a hand through his hair. âYeah, yeah. Donât get cocky just because you were right. Again.â
Three days after the exam, your phone lights up with his name: Grades are posted, lock in.
Your fingers fly across the screen as you log into the portal. There it is: Econ1000 - Final Grade: A+. Not surprising, but satisfying nonetheless. Youâre about to text him back when another message comes through: Can we meet? Iâm outside your building.
Your heart races as you rush down the stairs. Mingi is pacing outside, face unreadable. When he sees you, he stops, and for a terrible moment, you think heâs failed.
âMingi? What happened? Are youââ
His face breaks into the widest grin youâve ever seen. âI got an A, I did it!â
Relief and joy flood through you as he picks you up in a spinning hug that lifts your feet off the ground. âI knew you could do it!â you laugh, arms wrapped around his neck.
âI couldnât have done it without you,â he says, setting you down but keeping his hands on your waist.Â
âHey give yourself some credit, you did all the work,â you counter, unable to stop smiling. âI just provided occasional guidanceââ
ââAnd motivation, patience, and belief when I had none.â His expression grows serious despite his smile. âThank you.â
You feel your cheeks warm under his intense gaze. âYouâre welcome.â
He takes a deep breath, a flicker of nervousness crossing his featuresâsomething youâve rarely seen from him. âSo, I was thinking...â he begins, his hands sliding from your waist but not completely letting go, fingers lightly brushing against yours. âMaybe we could celebrate properly? Tonight?â
âWhat did you have in mind?â you ask, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.
âDinner,â he says simply. Then adds, with uncharacteristic hesitation, âAt an actual restaurant with fancy ass menus and shit.â His eyes meet yours, surprisingly earnest. âA date. Just you and me.â
The word âdateâ hangs between you, weighted with meaning. These weren't the standard study sessions or casual hangouts anymore. He wanted to take you out to dinner.
âA date,â you repeat, testing how the words feel.
âYes.â He nods, watching your face carefully. âI want to take you somewhere nice. To celebrate, but also because...â He pauses, thumb brushing over your knuckles. âI just want to treat you to a good meal, feels like the right thing to do.â
You laugh, the tension in your chest dissolving into something warm and bright. âIn that case, yes. Iâd love to go to dinner with you tonight.â
The smile that breaks across his face is incandescent. âGreat! Iâll pick you up at seven?â
âSeven works,â you nod, already mentally cataloguing your closet, wondering what constitutes appropriate attire for an official date with Song Mingi.
As if reading your mind, he adds, âWear something nice. I made reservations at Stellina.â
Your eyebrows shoot up. Stellina is easily the most upscale restaurant near campusâthe kind of place parents take their children when they visit, or where professors celebrate tenure. Definitely not somewhere college students typically go for casual dinners.
âStellina?â you echo. âThatâs... wow.â
âWait, do you not like Stells?â he asks, suddenly uncertain.
You shake your head quickly. âNo, itâs perfect. Iâm just surprised.â
âGood surprised?â
âVery good surprised.â
He beams, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. âIâll see you at seven, then.â
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of anticipation. You text your roommate the news, which results in her immediately abandoning whatever plans she had to help you prepare. By six oâclock, your room looks like a boutique explodedâclothes strewn across both beds, makeup scattered across the desk, and your roommate critically assessing every option.
âThis one,â she declares finally, holding up a simple black dress you bought for a cousinâs birthday last year but havenât worn since. âClassic, elegant, but still says âIâm not trying too hard.ââ You slip it on, the silky fabric settling against your skin. Itâs more fitted than you remembered, hugging your curves before flaring slightly at the hem. Nothing flashy, but undeniably flattering.
âPerfect,â your roommate nods approvingly. âNow, shoes...â
By 6:55, youâre pacing nervously in front of the mirror. The dress looks good, your hair is cooperating for once, and your roommate has worked minor miracles with minimal makeup. Still, anxiety flutters in your stomach like trapped butterflies.
âWhat if this changes everything?â you ask, chewing your lip. âWhat if itâs weird or awkward orââ
âOr what if itâs amazing?â your roommate cuts in, adjusting a strand of your hair. âStop catastrophizing and let yourself enjoy this. The man is taking you to Stellina, for godâs sake. Heâs clearly serious about you.â
Before you can respond, your phone buzzes with a text: Iâm outside.
Your roommate practically shoves you toward the door. âGo! And I want all the details when you get back!â
You take one last deep breath, grab your small purse, and head downstairs. The moment you step outside, you spot him immediately standing beside his car, looking almost unrecognizable in a tailored navy suit. His hair is styled away from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His eyes widen slightly as they take in your appearance, moving from your face to your dress and back again with an appreciation so obvious it makes your skin warm.
âYou look...â he starts, then shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. âI had a whole line prepared, but now I canât remember it. You look incredible.â
âSo do you,â you manage, taking in how the suit fits his broad shoulders perfectly. âI didnât know you owned clothes like this.â
âSpecial occasions only,â he grins, stepping forward to offer you his arm. âReady?â
The drive to Stellina is short but charged with a new kind of tensionâanticipation mixed with awareness. Mingi keeps glancing at you when he thinks youâre not looking, and you catch yourself doing the same. When you arrive, he insists on opening your door, offering his hand to help you out of the car with an old-fashioned gallantry that would seem affected from anyone else.
Inside, the restaurant is everything you expected and more. Soft lighting from crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, the gentle clink of expensive silverware. The hostess greets Mingi by name and leads you to a quiet corner table partially secluded by a decorative screen.
âThis is...â you begin, looking around at the elegant surroundings.
âToo much?â he blurted out in a panic, studying your face carefully as he pulls out your chair.
You shake your head, settling into your seat. âNo, itâs beautiful. Iâm just not used to... all this.â
âNeither am I,â he admits with a small laugh, taking his own seat. âI wanted tonight to be special.â
The waiter appears with menus and a wine list, addressing Mingi with practiced deference. You watch, slightly amused, as he navigates the wine selection with surprising confidence, asking questions about vintages and pairings that you wouldnât have expected him to know.
âSince when are you a wine expert?â you ask after the waiter leaves to fetch your selection.
He grins, slightly sheepish. âIâm not. I spent an hour yesterday watching YouTube videos about how to order wine without looking like an idiot.â
The admission is so endearingly honest that you canât help but laugh. âYouâre crazy.â
âI wanted to impress you,â he shrugs, no trace of his usual bravado. âIs it working?â
âMaybe a little,â you concede, smiling.
The wine arrivesâa crisp white that pairs perfectly with the appetizers Mingi suggests. As you sip and sample delicate bites of food you can barely pronounce, the initial awkwardness melts away. Conversation flows as easily as it always has between you, ranging from classes to childhood stories to dreams for the future.
âSo,â he says as the waiter clears your appetizer plates, ânow that weâve conquered economics, whatâs next on your academic hit list?â
âAdvanced Econometrics,â you grimace slightly. âNot exactly light reading.â
âSounds intense,â he nods. âDo you think youâll need a tutor for that one? If so, I know a guyâŠâ
The teasing question makes you smile. âI think I can manage. What about you? What are you taking next semester?â
He hesitates, something vulnerable flickering across his face. âActually, I registered for that Behavioural Economics class you mentioned. And...â he pauses, âIâm thinking about adding a minor in Business Analytics.â
âReally?â You canât hide your surprise. âThatâs a pretty intensive program.â
âYeah, well,â he shrugs, trying to look casual but not quite succeeding, âsomeone made me realize I might actually be good at this stuff. When Iâm not being a, what did you call it? âStereotypical frat boy with the collective IQ of a houseplant?ââ
You wince, remembering your harsh assessment from months ago. âI was wrong about that.â
âNot entirely,â he laughs. âI can be that guy sometimes. Itâs easier, you know? To be what people expect.â
The honesty in his voice touches something deep in your chest. âYou donât have to be that with me.â
His eyes meet yours across the table, warm and sincere, âI know.â
The main courses arriveâseared scallops for you, steak for himâmomentarily pausing the conversation. As you eat, you notice how Mingi keeps finding excuses to touch you: his fingers brushing yours when reaching for the wine, his knee pressing gently against yours under the table. Each contact sends little sparks along your skin, building a current that hums just below the surface.
âCan I ask you something?â he says after a comfortable lull in conversation.
âOf course.â
âWhen did you start liking me?â The question is direct, curious rather than cocky. âI mean, I know you couldnât stand me at first.â
You consider this, taking a sip of wine. âI think... it was during our third tutoring session. You spent twenty minutes arguing with me about income inequality and its effects on consumer behaviour.â
He looks surprised. âThatâs what did it? An economics debate?â
âYou were passionate,â you explain. âAnd knowledgeable. And you didnât back down just because I disagreed. I was impressed.â
His expression softens. âFor me, it was the party. That first night. When you looked at me and didnât seem impressed at all.â
âReally? That early?â
He nods, a small smile playing at his lips. âYou have no idea how refreshing that was. Everyone else was... I donât know, wanting something from me. You just looked annoyed that I existed.â
âI wasnât annoyed,â you correct him. âI was... intrigued.â
âIntrigued,â he repeats, smile widening. âIâll take it.â
As dinner winds down, the restaurant gradually empties around you. Neither of you seems eager to leave, conversation flowing from topic to topic, punctuated by laughter and moments of surprising vulnerability. When the waiter discreetly brings the check, Mingi insists on paying despite your protests.
âThis was my idea,â he says firmly. âMy invitation, my treat.â
âAt least let me cover the tip,â you argue.
He shakes his head, sliding his card into the leather folder. âNext time. You can plan the whole thing if you want.â
âNext time,â you echo, liking the sound of it more than you expected to.
Outside, the night air is cool and clear, stars visible despite the campus lights. Mingi takes your hand as you walk back to the car, his thumb tracing small circles on your palm.
âThank you for tonight,â you say quietly. âIt was perfect.â
He stops walking, turning to face you under the soft glow of a streetlight. âThank you for saying yes.â
Thereâs a moment where neither of you moves. Then, slowly, as if giving you time to pull away, Mingi leans in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. The moment his lips meet yours, everything else fades awayâthe restaurant, the streetlight, even the nervous flutter in your chest. His kiss is gentle at first, almost reverent, like heâs been waiting for this moment and doesnât want to rush it. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips.
âIâve been wanting to do that for so long,â he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.
You smile, fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket. âWhat took you so long?â
Instead of answering, he kisses you again, deeper this time. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer until youâre pressed against him, the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. Something shifts in the air between youâthe careful restraint youâve both been maintaining giving way to something more urgent, more honest.
Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, messing up his carefully styled look. He makes a soft sound against your mouth that sends heat rushing through you, his fingers digging slightly into your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. The kiss turns hungrier, months of tension finally finding release as his tongue brushes against yours, tentative at first, then with growing confidence when you respond in kind.
When you finally break apart, youâre both breathing hard. His eyes are darker than youâve ever seen them, pupils wide as he looks at you with undisguised want.
âI shouldâve done this at the party ages ago,â he whispers, voice rough. âThat night on the balcony. Iâve been thinking about it ever since.â
You laugh softly, feeling dizzy and light-headed in the best way. âBetter late than never.â
He grins, pressing another quick kiss to your lips like he canât help himself. âDo you want to go somewhere more... private?â The question is careful, giving you an out if you need it.
The responsible part of your brain reminds you of early classes tomorrow, of the boundaries you set, of taking things slow. But the part of you thatâs been dreaming of this moment for longer than you care to admit is already nodding.
âYour place?â you suggest, surprised by the boldness in your own voice.
His eyes widen slightly, like he hadnât expected you to agree so readily. âYou sure?â
In answer, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your actions speak louder than words. When you pull away, his smile is almost dazed.
âMy place it is,â he says, taking your hand and leading you back to his car with renewed purpose.
The drive to his fraternity house is charged with anticipation, the air between you electric with possibilities. His hand finds yours across the center console, thumb stroking over your knuckles in a way that seems both soothing and maddening at once. At a red light, he canât resist leaning over to kiss you again, quick but deep enough to leave you breathless.
âIf you keep doing that, we might not make it to your place,â you warn, only half-joking.
His laugh is low and warm. âWorth it.â
ââââââââââââââââââ
When you arrive, the house is mercifully quietâmost of his frat brothers either out or already asleep. He leads you through the common areas with your hand firmly in his, up the stairs to his room on the second floor. Once inside, he closes the door softly behind you, and suddenly the reality of where you areâin Mingiâs bedroom, alone, after the most perfect dateâhits you all at once.
His room is larger than you expected, and surprisingly neat. A double bed occupies one corner, made with actual matching sheets and pillows. Bookshelves line one wall, filled not just with textbooks but novels, economics journals, and what looks like a collection of vintage records. A desk sits beneath a large window, offering the promised view of campus, lights twinkling in the distance.
âSo,â you say, turning to face him, âthis is where the golden boy lives.â
He pushes off from the door, crossing to stand before you. âDisappointed that there's no mattress on the floor and itâs not covered in beer pong trophies?â
âA little,â you admit with a teasing smile. âThough I do see at least one trophy.â You nod toward a shelf where a single golden cup sits next to a framed photo of Mingi with an older man, both smiling widely.
âEconomics award from freshman year,â he explains, following your gaze. âThatâs my grandfather, the day I got my acceptance letter.â
You move closer to examine the photo, aware of Mingi following you, the space between you shrinking with each step. When you turn to face him again, heâs so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Something shifts in his expressionâthe playful fraternity president giving way to something more raw, more honest. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your lower lip.
His fingers tremble against your cheek as he exhales shakily. âIâve never been this terrified of messing something up,â he confesses, voice cracking slightly.
âEvery time I look at you, I see everything Iâve ever wanted but never thought I deserved.â His eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your knees weak. âI keep pinching myself that youâre actually here, with me. Youâre not just another person to meâyouâre my person.â His thumb brushes your lower lip, reverent. âI adore everything about you. The way you laugh, how you challenge me, even how you roll your eyes when Iâm being ridiculous.â He swallows hard. âIâm serious about us. So serious it scares me.â
The word hangs between you, heavy with meaning. You see it in his eyes, the battle between desire and fear. Fear that heâll scare you away, that heâll move too fast, that youâll retreat behind those walls heâs spent weeks carefully dismantling. Your hands, almost of their own volition, drift upward to press against his chest. Under your palm, you feel the erratic thrum of his heart, each frantic beat echoing your own.
âMingi,â you whisper, and the sound of his nameâso soft, so certainâshatters the fragile barrier heâs been holding between you. For a suspended moment, your gazes lock, electric and trembling, and then he moves with a sudden, desperate clarity.
Mingiâs restraint snaps like brittle glass. He surges forward, kissing you with an intensity thatâs as bright and blinding as a detonated starâno preamble, no hesitance, just pure want. His lips crash into yours, hot and hungry, arms banding around your waist so tightly you feel like you might dissolve into him. Thereâs nothing tentative in the way he holds you; heâs all-in, every muscle taut with reverence and longing. The kiss is a reclamation, a promise, and the culmination of every unspoken thing thatâs hung between you for weeks.
You can only cling to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the seismic shift in energy. Your breath is stolen, your senses alight, your mind gone white-noise blank. The room could be on fire and you wouldnât notice. Mingi kisses like heâs afraid youâll disappear if he lets up for even a secondâlike youâre the last oxygen left on earth and heâs learning how to breathe. And yet, underneath the urgency, thereâs a trembling tenderness, as though every pass of his mouth is asking, Is this okay? Am I too much? Do you want me, too?
You answer with your body, arching into him, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, jaw tilting to deepen the kiss. His hands slide up your back, mapping the length of your spine; one finds its way into your hair, cradling your head, the other splayed possessively at your hip. He tastes like citrus and hope and the sharp, metallic shimmer of anticipation. Thereâs nothing careful about itâyour teeth clash, your lips bruise, and when you gasp for air, he only uses the opportunity to trail kisses along your jaw, your neck, the delicate hollow at your throat. This is messy, urgent, but itâs also so fiercely sincere youâre left raw by the force of it. When he draws back, just long enough to search your face, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark with wonder and disbelief.
âGod, This might be better than the first time we kissed,â he pants, chest heaving as he regains control of his breathing. He brushes your hair away from your face, fingers gentle where his grip had been bruising. âTell me if itâs too much, okay?â
You shake your head, already chasing his mouth again, needing to erase the words and replace them with moreâmore of him, more of this. He laughs against your lips, the sound reverberating through your bones. You feel untethered, weightless, every nerve ending singing. Youâre dimly aware of your back pressing up against the closed door, Mingi pinning you there in a cocoon of warmth and want. Every inch of you is alive, hypersensitive to the slide of his hands, the brush of his breath against your skin.
He kisses you again and again, in greedy, overlapping intervals, his self-control disintegrating the longer you let him. But even as the kiss turns molten, thereâs nothing careless in the way he touches youâno sense of entitlement, just awe and gratitude, as though he still canât believe youâre real, youâre here, youâre choosing him. When he finally slows, his forehead drops to yours, both of you panting, foreheads and noses pressed together, steadying yourselves against the aftershocks.
His lips find the corner of your mouth, then the line of your jaw, then your ear. âSorry,â he whispers, not sounding sorry at all. âI got carried away for a second.â
You laugh, shaky and breathless. âIt's okay, it was kinda cute.â
He smiles, teeth grazing your earlobe. âYouâre dangerous, you know that?â
âI learned from the best.â
He laughs again, quieter this time, and it morphs into something softer, more vulnerable. âThe student becomes the master now, huh?â
You step back, just enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies, and meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but thereâs hesitation there tooâa question. You answer by taking his hand and leading him toward the bed, your heart hammering against your ribs. When his legs hit the edge of the mattress, you place your palms on his chest and gently push. He sits immediately, looking up at you with such reverence that it steals your breath. For a moment, you simply stand between his parted knees, admiring how beautiful he looks like thisâwaiting, wanting, completely focused on you.
âCan I?â you ask softly, fingers playing with the top button of his shirt.
He nods, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. âOf course. Whatever you want, doll.â
You take your time undressing him, savouring each new inch of skin revealed. His breathing grows more ragged with each button you slip free, with each brush of your fingertips against his heated skin. Your hands drift lower, finding the buckle of his belt. His eyes never leave yours as you work it loose, the metal clinking softly in the quiet room. Thereâs something intoxicating about the way he watches youâpatient yet desperate, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. When you pop the button of his pants, his hands grip the edge of the mattress, anchoring himself down.
âLift your hips,â you instruct softly, and he complies immediately, allowing you to slide his pants down his thighs. The fabric pools around his ankles, and he kicks them away, leaving him in just his boxers.
You take a moment to admire him like thisâthe strong lines of his thighs, the subtle definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. Mingi has always seemed larger than life, but here, partially undressed and vulnerable before you, heâs beautifully human. When you trace a finger along the waistband of his underwear, he shivers, a small sound escaping his throat. He tries reaching for you, but you catch his wrists.Â
âNot yet,â you murmur, and he immediately stills.
ââM Sorry,â he breathes, letting his hands fall to his sides. âIâll be good.â
Something about the way he says itâlike heâs never had to wait before, like heâs never been the one following someone elseâs leadâmakes the heat pool low in your belly. You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, rewarding his patience.
âLie back, let me take care of you,â you instruct, and he complies without hesitation, shifting up the bed until his head rests on the pillows.Â
You take your time undressing yourself, hyperaware of his hungry gaze tracking every movement. When you finally stand before him in nothing but your underwear, he lets out the sweetest whimper thatâs graced your ears.
âFuck,â he whispers, voice strained. âYouâre so beautiful. Iââ
He cuts himself off, holding back a moan as you climb onto the bed, straddling his hips. His hands hover uncertainly at your waist, waiting for permission.
âGo ahead, you can touch me,â you grant, and his hands are on you instantly. Feeling the warmth of his hands as they trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine.
You lean down to kiss him properly, deep and slow, savouring the taste of him. His lips part eagerly beneath yours, letting you set the pace, following your lead with a pliancy thatâs intoxicating from someone normally so in control. You begin grinding against him for friction and he reciprocates. He groans into your mouth, mumbling curses under his breath. You felt his boner poking your ass while you both humped each other so so desperately. His bedroom is filled with the harmony of your heavy breathing, his whines, and the wet sounds of your lips crashing.
âPlease,â he gasps. âI needâI wantââ
âWhat do you want, Mingi?â you ask, pulling back slightly to watch his face.
âNeed to feel you,â he says immediately, no hesitation. âDonât want toâhaahâcum in my pants like a fucking virgin.â
You giggle at his admission, you slowly reach behind you to squeeze his bulge, feeling it twitch in the palm of your hand. Mingiâs head tips back in bliss, growling at the sensation. The rawness in his voice makes your chest tight. You press soft kisses down his throat, across his collarbones, feeling his pulse race beneath your lips. His hands slide up your back, tangling in your hair, but he doesnât push or pullâjust holds on like youâre his anchor in a storm.
When you finally strip away the last barriers between you, his whole body trembles with anticipation. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, feeling the velvet skin slide beneath your touch as you position his flushed tip at your entrance. His eyes lock with yoursâdark pools of need and surrender. You lower yourself with deliberate patience, savouring the stretch as his thick length fills you, watching his full lips part and his lashes flutter against flushed cheeks.
Mingi whines the second you ease down on him completely, hips trembling beneath you. His hands fist in the sheets, as if heâs physically restraining himself from thrusting up into you.
âFuck, babyââ he gasps, head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat. His jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful as he struggles for control. âFeels so good around my cock, shitââ
You lean down, hushing him gently, both palms cradling his flushed face. You treat him like something precious, something to be cherished as you press your lips to his in a slow, deep kiss. Your tongue curls against his languidly, unhurried, as if you have nowhere else to be but here, joined with him in this perfect moment.
âIt feels good, doesnât it?â you murmur between kisses, your voice soft and sweet and infinitely patient. Your forehead rests against his, noses brushing, sharing the same heated breath. âYouâre doing so good for me.â
He moans at your praise, his entire body shuddering beneath yours. Heâs all muscle and barely contained strength under you, his powerful frame completely at your mercy. You can feel how desperately he wants to move, to take control, but he surrenders to your pace instead, letting you have him exactly how you want him.
You remain still, just sitting there with him buried deep inside you, feeling the way your cunt pulses around his length. The sensation must be overwhelming for him because his eyes squeeze shut, his breathing ragged and uneven.
âIs it too much?â you cooed, reaching to brush damp strands of dark hair from his forehead, your touch gentle and soothing
He shakes his head frantically, his grip on your waist tightening. âN-no,â he whines with a soft, shattered sound. âJustâfuck, just need a s-secondâfeels too fuckinâ goodâcanât thinkââ
Sweat beads at his hairline, eyes squeezed shut in some primal effort to hold himself together, chest heaving under your hands like heâs afraid his ribs will break apart from the force of it. You melt a little at the sight of himâa six foot force of raw sex appealânow reduced to a mass of shaking limbs and shattered breath, undone and writhing beneath you. Thereâs something intoxicating about the way he trusts you to see him like this, about the way he lets himself be taken apart so openly, without armour or artifice. You savour it, every trembling, helpless second, and you want to draw it out forever.
You lean down, brushing your lips to his cheek in a soft, featherlight kiss. He inhales sharply, but doesnât flinch away. Instead, he turns his head, chasing your mouth with a need so naked it nearly undoes you. You let him catch you, let him press his lips to yoursânot in a kiss, exactly, but a silent plea, a lifeline. You answer by kissing him deeper, slower, letting your tongue trace the seam of his lips, coaxing him open, coaxing him back to the surface. His hands slide up your back, frantic but reverent, like heâs trying to memorise the shape of you by touch and touch alone. His heart beats wild under your palm, a frantic semaphore that reads: I want you, I want you, I want you. You press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, then to his jaw, then down the delicate line where his pulse hammers beneath thin skin. He shudders, his whole body rigid and shivery. You thread your fingers through his hair, stroking the side of his faceÂ
âHey,â you murmur, voice as gentle as you know how to make it, âRelax, Iâve got you. Can you do that for me?âÂ
He nods, so obedient and desperate it makes something deep in your chest ache with tenderness. One breath, then another, and you feel the tightness in his body begin to unravelâincremental, but real. You rock your hips slowly, experimentally, watching his face for every flicker of sensation, every micro-expression. His lips part in a helpless moan, but his eyes finally flutter open, dazed and shining. He tries to say your name but it comes out as a whimper, half-beg, half-blessing.
âThatâs it, babyâ you praise, kissing him again, softer this time. âYouâre doing so well.âÂ
The words seem to go straight to his coreâhe clings to them, drinking them down like water in the desert. You keep up a steady stream of encouragement, every whisper and touch meant to anchor him, to let him know you want him just like this: open, needy, trembling with the effort of holding back.
You draw the next movement out deliberately. The slow, aching drag of your hips, the way you squeeze around him with every tiny shift. Mingiâs hands grip your thighs like lifelines, fingers biting into your skin, but he doesnât dare take back controlâthe restraint is exquisite, painful to watch. Heâs at your mercy and loving it, if the way his eyes keep darting to your mouth, your chest, your hands, is any indication.
âGonna let me do what I want, yeah?â you crooned, savoring how your voice makes him flinch with anticipation. âKeep being good for me.âÂ
He nods, lips trembling as he struggles to keep his composure âFuck. Yesâpl-please, âm yours.â
You build your rhythm, slow and steady, each grind calculated to wring the maximum shudder from him. Sometimes you pause, letting him throb helplessly inside you, watching his jaw flex and his throat work as he swallows the urge to move. Sometimes, you bring yourself up just enough that only the tip of him is inside, and let him feel the loss, the emptiness, right before you sink down again in one slow, molten pulse. Every time you do it, Mingiâs head tips back, a sound escaping his throat thatâs closer to a sob than a moan. You let the building friction wind both of you higher, but you donât let yourself get lost in it; you want to see him come apart, to savour every second of his surrender.
You pick up the pace, just enough to make it impossible for him to stay silent. The bed frame squeaks softly beneath you, his hands finally dragging up your ribs, desperate for anything to ground him in this sinful reality. He reaches up and cups one of your tits, rolling and squeezing your nipple until it hardens against his warm touch. Your eyes shut at the sight, your body starts to falter under his grasp. Every inch of him is trembling too, his body strung tight as wire. His thrusts are growing more desperate, cockhead now slamming into your weakest spot, ripping a pornographic moan from you.Â
âPlease, doll,â he rasps, voice gone rough and wild. âPlease, can Iâ?â
You lean in, your lips at his ear, your breath hot and deliberate. âYou want to cum?â you hum, rocking down hard and slow, grinding your hips just the way he likes. âYou want to fill me up?â
He makes a strangled sound that could be your name, or a prayer, or both. âPleasepleaseplease,â he says again, as if the word is being pried out of him, as if heâs never begged for anything in his life.
You decide heâs earned it.
âDo it,â you cooed. âCum for me, Mingi. Wanna feel you cum inside me.â
The effect is immediate. He bucks up into you, helpless, his face contorting with pure, blissful pleasure. His hands drag you down against him, holding you in place as he comes deep inside you, the force of it making his whole body shudder. Your juices drip down his balls and your gummy walls clamp down hard on his sensitive length, throwing into his orgasm and washing his vision white. You feel his warmth spreading in your insides, creamy ropes of cum making you feel fuller than before. You ride him through it, slow and greedy, squeezing him with your cunt until heâs wrung out and gasping, eyes rolling back as he drowns in sensation. His chest trembles under his shaky breaths as he pulls his half-hard cock out of your sticky heat, looking up at you through dampened lashes. You press your lips to his damp temple, stroking his hair until the aftershocks fade. For a moment, the world goes silent save for the hammering of both your hearts, the heat of your bodies, the sweat cooling on your skin.
All of a sudden, the equilibrium tilts.
Mingi comes back to himself by degrees, eyes still glazed but mouth already curling into a grin thatâs all sharp canines and mischief. Youâre still trembling, the aftershocks ricocheting through your bones, but the way heâs holding you nowâpossessiveâis different from before. Thereâs a shift in the air, a gathering of purpose behind the lazy drag of his palm up your spine.
âAlright, youâve had your fun,â he rasps, voice rough with spent desire, âmy turn.â
Suddenly heâs moving, rolling you onto your back in a single, fluid motion. His hands are everywhereâkneading your ass, your thighs, greedy in their hunger. His body covers yours, heat and weight and muscle, and you realise that heâs been biding his time, letting you have your way only so he could give it back to you tenfold.Â
âDid you really think you had all the control, doll?â he drawls, the words fiery and playful at once, goading you with the memory of your earlier dominanceâall while letting you know it was only ever on loan.
His hands bracket your hips, fingers splayed and greedy, and you feel the faintest quiver in his arms as he holds himself over you, like a predator savouring the moment before the pounce. His eyes never leave yours as he takes himself in hand, his cock already hardening again. You feel the blunt head of him brushing against your sensitive folds, teasing at your entrance. He drags it slowly up and down your slit, still slick with his cum and your arousal, circling your clit with deliberate pressure that makes your hips buck involuntarily.
âSo responsive,â he murmurs, eyes darkening as he continues to tease you, tapping his tip against your cunt with feather-light touches. âLook at how eager you are fâme.â
You moan as he continues his torturous teasing, rubbing his hardening length against your swollen lips, gathering your shared wetness along his shaft. Your hips buck involuntarily, chasing the fullness you crave. Mingi just chuckles, keeping his movements shallow, the head of his cock just barely dipping inside before retreating. The emptiness is maddening.
âUse your words,â he commands softly, continuing the torturous tapping against your entrance. âTell me what you need.â
âIâ ohmygod... I needâ,â you try to answer, but the question melts on your tongue.Â
His smile is triumphant as he finally, finally pushes forward, sinking into you with one smooth thrust. He buries himself deeper, hips rolling with a languid, relentless power. Every inch of him fills you, presses you open, makes you ache. He fucks up into you with a slow, devastating grind that leaves your toes curling and your nails digging into his biceps for purchase.
âSo fucking tight,â he groans, nipping at your pulse point, tongue flicking over sweat-salted skin. âSo wet for me. You like being stuffed by my cock don't you?â
âOh fuck.. yes!â You whimper, and he grips your jaw, thumb pressing into your lower lip, enticing you to be louder.
âLet me hear you,â he growls, eyes burning into yours. âFuckâlet the whole dorm hear how good Iâm making you feel.â
He fucks you like he has nowhere to go and nothing else to do but ruin you, each punishing thrust deliberate and deep, perfectly tuned to hit every trembling, oversensitive sweet spot inside you, drawing out increasingly desperate sounds that seem to fuel his hunger. The room is a riot of sensation: the slap of skin on skin, the obscene squeeelch of your own arousal, the sweat that drips from his brow onto your collarbone as he leans in to bite at your shoulder.
He laces his fingers through yours, pinning your hands above your head, and the new angle is exquisiteâheâs so deep you can barely breathe, so intense you canât manage a sound. Heâs watching your face, drinking in every flicker of pleasure and pain, cataloguing the way your body arches and clenches around him.
âLook at you,â he pants, fucking you harder now, the headboard rattling with each thrust. âYou look so pretty like thisâspread out for me, fuck. This is what you wanted, right?â
You feel the weight of him first, that heavy press of Mingiâs body pinning you down against the sheets, his hips grinding slow and deliberate as he sinks deeper. Every inch of his cock stretches you wide, the burn mixing with that sweet ache that makes your toes curl and your breath hitch. Your hands claw at his back, nails digging into the scarred skin, but he doesnât flinch. He just growls low in his throat, pushing harder, stuffing himself in until thereâs no space left between you. All you can feel is him, that thick length buried deep, pulsing against your walls as he drives in again and again. a whimper escapes your lips, broken and needy, your body arching up to meet him even as the overload makes you want to pull away. Mingi notices immediately. his hand shoots up, fingers tangling rough in your hair, yanking your head forward with just enough force to make you gasp.
âLook at me,â He rasps, voice strained like heâs fighting through something sharp and brutal.
His grip tightens, holding you steady so your eyes lock onto his. Yours are wide now, pupils blowing out wide and dark, swallowing the colour until thereâs just that hazy black stare reflecting back at him. He watches it happen, the way they dilate under the dim light, pulling him in like youâre lost in the haze of it all. His sounds get louder, desperate almost, grunts turning into these deep, guttural moans that vibrate through his body into yours.
âFuckâI'm gonna lose my mind,â he groans, the word dragging out low and pained, like the pleasure is edging on torture. his free hand digs into your hip, bruising as he pulls you closer, slamming in one last time. âYour perfect cunt was made for me wasn't it?â
You nod, frantic, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming fullness. He slows, just enough to let you catch your breath, then leans in, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss thatâs as much a challenge as comfort. His tongue is rough, demanding, and he swallows every helpless sound you make.Â
Then, in a cruel twist of fate, he pulls out entirely, leaving you empty and clenching at nothing. Before you can beg, heâs flipping you onto your stomach, hands manhandling your hips up until youâre on your knees for him, face pressed into the pillows. He lines himself up behind you, the heat of his cock nudging at your entrance, and you whimper in anticipation.
âYou're gonna let me fuck you sooo good, right baby?â he promises, voice gone dark and needy, and then he slams back into you in one brutal, beautiful stroke. The sound you make is sweet, involuntary, a sob torn from deep in your chest. He gives you no quarter, hips pistoning relentlessly, the flat of his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends you clenching around him.
âSo beautiful,â he purred, running his palm over the stinging flesh.
With every thrust he drives the point home, each one punctuated by a filthy litanyâmineâuntil you can feel the word burning into your skin. He grabs a fistful of your hair, jerks your head back so youâre forced to arch, to present yourself to him, to let him see how utterly, beautifully ruined you are.
âSay it,â he orders, voice raw. âTell me who you belong to.â
You gasp, barely able to form words. âYou! Mingi. Iâm all yoursââ
He rewards you with devastating thrusts, so deep your vision starts turning white.
You can feel yourself unraveling, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Heâs relentless, fucking you through your first orgasm and into a second, not stopping even when you collapse boneless onto the mattress. He kisses your spine, your shoulder blade, every vertebrae, as he keeps you pinned and takes you, over and over, until your vision blurs and you forget your own name.Â
âM-mingi! Mâ so close, gonna cumââ
âGonna cum inside you again,â he promises, voice shaking with how close he is, hips stuttering. âYou gonna take it for me? Gonna let me breed this perfect pussy?â
âYesyesyesâfuck!â
The words rip something out of you. You nod, desperate, grinding back against him, greedy for his release.
âThatâs my girl, câmon cum with me baby.â
He bites down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, and fucks you through his own climax, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you up again, so much it slicks out around the edges and paints the inside of your thighs, messy and obscene.
You collapse together, his arms locked around your waist, breath ghosting warm across your neck. He stays inside you, softening only a little, like he canât bear to let you go yet. You lie there, bodies tangled and sticky, sweat cooling on your skin, and you feel the heat of him still throbbing inside you, a silent claim.
Neither of you moves for what feels like hours, your breathing gradually slowing to match each otherâs rhythm. Mingiâs weight on top of you is heavy but comforting, his cock still nestled deep inside you despite having softened slightly. The gentle pulsing of him against your walls sends occasional aftershocks through your system, little reminders of the intensity you just shared.
âStay like this,â you whisper when he finally stirs, your hand reaching back to keep him in place. âJust a little longer.â
He makes a soft sound of agreement, pressing his lips to the nape of your neck. âYou like feeling me inside you, donât you?â His voice is a gentle rumble against your skin.Â
You nod, feeling strangely vulnerable in your admission. Thereâs something deeply intimate about thisâmore so, somehow, than the passionate sex you just had. Mingi seems to understand, adjusting his position slightly so heâs not crushing you but remains connected, his chest pressed to your back, one arm draped possessively across your waist.
âThis okay?â he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.
âPerfect,â you sigh, melting into the mattress beneath his weight.
The room falls quiet except for your mingled breathing and the distant thrum of music from downstairs. The party continues without you, but at this moment, the world outside this room might as well not exist. Mingi nuzzles against your shoulder, pressing lazy kisses to the marks he left earlier.
âIâve never done this before,â he confesses quietly.
âWhat, sex?â you tease, knowing full well thatâs not what he means.
He laughs softly, the vibration traveling through both your bodies. âNo, smartass.â His arm tightens around you. âThis,â he clarifies, fingers drawing gentle patterns on your skin. âHaving someone stay over.â
You twist your neck to look at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief. âWait, seriously? But youâreâyouâre you. Howââ
He laughs, but thereâs no humor in it. âYeah I knowâŠI donât bring people here. Ever.â
âEver?â You shift slightly to face him better, wincing as you feel him slip out of you. The loss is immediate, leaving you empty in a way that makes you want to chase the connection again. He reaches for tissues from his nightstand, cleaning you both with surprising tenderness before settling back beside you. His eyes meet yours, unusually vulnerable.
âNever,â he confirms, voice soft. âThis room is... I donât know. Itâs mine. My space. I donât share it with just anyone.â
The implication hangs between you, heavy with meaning. Youâre not just anyone. Youâre someone he wants in his private world, someone heâs letting see parts of himself that others donât.
âBut all those stories about you...â you begin, confused.
He shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed. âNot saying Iâve been a saint. But those hookups? They happened elsewhere. Never here. Never in my bed.â His fingers trace your cheekbone with careful precision. âNever like this.â
Something warm blooms in your chest, spreading outward until your whole body feels flushed with it. Youâve been the exception to so many of his rules alreadyâthe girl he studied for, the one he took to Stellina, the one he waited patiently for. And now thisâbeing the only person heâs ever brought to his most personal space.
âI didnât know,â you whisper, because you donât know what else to say.
âHow could you?â His smile is small but genuine. âIâve spent a lot of time making sure everyone sees exactly what they expect to see.â
You reach up, touching his face with gentle fingers. âAnd what am I seeing right now?â
âThe real me,â he says simply. âThe one whoâs terrified of messing this up. The one who thinks about you constantly. The one who...â he hesitates, taking a deep breath before continuing, âthe one who wants you to be his girlfriend. Officially.â
Your heart stutters in your chest. Despite everything thatâs happened between youâthe tutoring, the dates, the incredible sex you just hadâhearing him say it out loud makes it suddenly, overwhelmingly real.
âMingi...â you start, uncertain how to respond.
His face falls slightly, but he quickly masks it. âIâm rushing things, arenât I?â
âNo, itâs not that,â you say quickly, not wanting him to misunderstand. âItâs justâthis is all happening so fast. A few months ago I couldnât stand you, and now...â
âAnd now?â he prompts when you trail off, eyes searching yours.
âNow I canât imagine not having you in my life,â you admit. The truth of it surprises even you. âI just need a little time to process everything. Can I... can I give you an answer tomorrow?â
Relief washes over his features. âItâs not a no?â
You smile, leaning in to kiss him softly. âDefinitely not a no.â
He pulls you closer, wrapping you in his arms like heâs afraid you might disappear. âTomorrow it is. I can wait.â
You fall asleep like that, tangled together in his sheets, his heartbeat steady against your back, his breath warm on your neck. For the first time in years, you donât worry about your schedule or your plans or what comes next. You just let yourself exist in this moment, with him.
Sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains, painting golden stripes across the bed. You stir slowly, your body pleasantly sore as consciousness creeps in. For a moment, disorientation clouds your mindâthis isnât your dorm room. All of a sudden, rapid flashbacks enter your mind from the events of last night. Mingi is gone, the sheets cool where he should be. For one terrible moment, panic seizes your chestâdid he regret last night? Did he change his mind about wanting you as his girlfriend?
Then you hear footsteps in the hallway, the door handle turning. You sit up, clutching the sheet to your chest, heart pounding.
Mingi backs into the room, hands full. Heâs balancing a tray of coffee cups, a small box of chocolates tucked under his arm, andâyour breath catchesâa bouquet of lilies and hydrangeas cradled against his chest. He hasnât noticed youâre awake yet, too focused on not dropping anything as he nudges the door closed with his foot.
When he turns and sees you watching him, his face breaks into a smile so bright it rivals the sunlight streaming through the windows.
âMorning,â he says, suddenly looking shy. âI was hoping to be back before you woke up.â
âWhatâs all this?â you ask, unable to keep the smile from your voice.
He approaches the bed, carefully setting down the coffee cups on the nightstand. âWell, I figured your answer might depend on how convincing my case was.â He hands you the flowers, the stargazer liliesâ pink-speckled petals unfurling beside clusters of blue hydrangeas that catch the morning light. âThese reminded me of you.â
You bury your nose in the blooms, inhaling their sweet fragrance. âTheyâre perfect.â
âThereâs more,â he says, offering you the box of chocolates. âYour favourite, right? The ones with the salted caramel centers?â
You blink in surprise. âHow did you know?â
âYou mentioned it once, when we were studying for the midterm. Said they were your stress food.â
The fact that he remembered such a small detail makes your heart swell. He passes you one of the coffee cups, the rich aroma of your preferred brew wafting up as you take it.
âAnd thisâŠâ he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small envelope. âThis is the most important part.â
You set the coffee aside and take the card with trembling fingers. The envelope is simple, your name written on the front in his familiar handwriting. Inside is a handmade card, decorated with what appears to be hand-drawn economic graphs and formulas. You open it, and a laugh bubbles up from your chest as you read the message:
According to my cost-benefit analysis, being with you yields the highest returns on investment. Our relationship has increasing marginal utilityâthe more time I spend with you, the more valuable each moment becomes. Will you be my girlfriend and help me maximize our happiness and love function?
Itâs nerdy and sweet and so perfectly him that tears spring to your eyes. When you look up, heâs watching you nervously, waiting for your response.
âSoooo?â he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
You set the card aside carefully and reach for him, pulling him down until heâs sitting beside you on the bed. âYou're so stupid,â you say, cupping his face in your hands. âOf course I'll be your girlfriendâ
The relief and joy that wash over his features are almost painful to witness. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss thatâs somehow both gentle and fierce, like heâs trying to pour every emotion heâs feeling into this one perfect moment.
When you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed as if heâs committing this to memory.
âYou know,â you say, threading your fingers through his hair, âfor someone who was failing economics a few weeks ago, that was a pretty impressive application of the principles.â
He laughs, the sound vibrating through both of you. âWhat can I say? I had an excellent tutor.â
âDamn right you did,â you tease, pulling him in for another kiss.
Outside, the campus is waking up. Students are heading to class, professors are preparing lectures, life is continuing as it always has. But in this room, wrapped in each otherâs arms, you and Mingi have created something newâa world that belongs just to the two of you, built on unexpected connections, shattered assumptions, and the courage to see beyond the surface. As his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, you let yourself sink into the certainty that some economic theories are universal: the most valuable things are often the ones you never saw coming, and the greatest returns come from the investments you make not with your head, but with your heart.
PAIRINGS : stoner!Jung Wooyoung x Fem!reader
GENRE : smut w/ little plot, stoner woo, drunkish!reader, high!wooyoung, unprotected sex (WRAP BEFORE TAP), toxic!wooyoung.
WARNINGS : under the influence but consensual sex, alcohol, weed cigs, degradation, hair pulling, soft spanking.
{A/n: thought of doing sm like this ever since MBC 2025 red hair cowboy Wooyoung dropped.}
âIâm telling you Y/n! This place is super hyped up I really need you to come with me!â Your friend Dani whined, practically on her knees begging you. You huffed out a sigh, looking down at her with a unfazed look, crossing your arms at your chest. She looked up at you with a pout on her face, hands at your knees. You narrowed your eyes at her. She sighed slowly getting up, using your shoulders as a railing.
âIâll cover your shift next Friday and buy you lunch next time.â She groaned, waking away towards your closet, knowing you will agree you.
And boy you sure did agree!
Your face lit up with excitement as you skipped towards her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders placing a kiss to her temple. âI love you~â you cooed causing her to glare at you. âYouâre lucky I tolerate your bratty ass.â You giggled, letting her choose your outfit for the night while you scrolled away on your phone.
âHow did you even find this place? Itâs like literally on the outskirts of this city. And I have never once seen you leave this area let alone go till there.â You looked up from your phone at her with a curious glint shining in your eye.
Dani turned back to face you with a sly grin. âFelix asked me to come..â she flushed, fidgeting with the top in her hands. You let out a knowing scoff, smirking slightly. âHere! Wear this, youâll look so hot and who knows.. maybe you can find someone too~â Dani winked, throwing the outfit at the bed. You glanced back at the phone, sighing.
it was definitely going to be a long night.
As the night approached, Dani waved at the car that pulled up into the street. The car door opened, Dani ran to the drivers side, jumping into the arms of the tall freckled blonde haired man. She dragged him towards you while you stood awkwardly. âY/n! This is Felix, my boyfriend, Felix this y/n, my roommate and best friend!â She smiled brightly. Felix smiled softly at you, extending his hand. âIâve heard so much about you.â He chuckled, his deep voice like silk paired with his strong accent. âLikewise.â You said, shaking his hand.
âOkay letâs get going now ladies.â He gestured, opening the car door for you and Dani.
The car ride was simple and sweet. Dani and Felix flirting shamelessly in front of you making your heart swell with how adorable they are and the soft murmur of music in the background. About 45 minutes we finally reached at the bar. Getting out of the car, Felix led the both of you, his hand on the small back of Daniâs back as you three entered the bar.
The door swung open, entering into a wash of warm tones of lights, the air humming with melodies you hadnât heard since childhood car rides. A disco ball spun lazily overhead, scattering light across chrome stools and worn leather booths, while an old arcade cabinet blinked in the corner like it was waiting for you. The bar smelled of citrus, smoke, and something sweet, and every surface seemed to glow with unapologetic excess. It felt like the â80s hadnât endedâjust been waiting for someone to walk back in.
âWoahâ you let out before you could even realise. Felix laughed at your reaction. âI know. My friends have amazing taste when it comes to bars.â He nodded at the corner table, packed with men, laughing and clinking glasses against the table as they set it down. Felix took Daniâs hand guiding her to the table. She turned her head to you, nodding you to follow along. You sucked in a breath, looking over at them. Your eyes glanced at the men at the table and you stalked your way towards them, awkwardly standing next to the couple.
âGuys, this is Dani, my girlfriend.â Felix smiled proudly, squeezing her shoulder. She smiled and waved at the guys that cheered for them happily. âOh and this is her friend. Y/n.â Felix gestured, nodding at you. You smiled softly, nodding your head at them.
âLadies, these are my friends, Yunho, Bangchan, Hyunjin, San and- yah where is Wooyoung?â Felix frowned looking around the table.
âIâm right here Lix.â The deep voice from behind caught your attention. You glanced back, eyes widening a bit as you froze slightly. Your eyes shamelessly checked out the very attractive man before you. His red hair shining under the warm lights, his golden tan skin glistening with sweat and his pearly whites shining brightly with the smile he held. Felix went to him, hugging him tight and turning around to face you both.
âLadies this is my best friend Wooyoung. Wooyoung, this is Dan-.â â âOh I know. Youâve told me too much about her.â Wooyoung smiled politely at her and then his gaze shifted to you. His eyes looking you up and down with a sly expression. âAnd you?â He asked, his voice smooth like honey. âMy best friend, Y/n. Thought Iâd tag her along for a change.â Dani chuckled, squeezing your hand. You didnât dare look away from Wooyoung as he stepped towards you.
âHi, Iâm Wooyoung.â He smiled, slightly towering over you with not just his height but the unavoidable aura he held. âHi.â You smiled, trying to seem as confident as he was but under his gaze, him looking at you as though he was undressing you with his eyes it was almost impossible.
âCome on letâs sit!â Dani exclaimed going back to the table, Felix clinging to her. You nodded, looking back at Wooyoung as he smiled, letting you go first. You slotted yourself between the tall brunette, Yunho and Wooyoung himself. Your bare thighs brushing against both men.
San spoke up first, âHow did you guys meet?â clasping his hands together. Dani giggled at the question, looking over at the flustered blonde man beside her. âWell lix and I actually met because of Y/n. He came into the cafe and she was supposed to take his order. But she insisted that I did because she thought he was my type..â she trailed off giggling.
âWell look how that turned out.â Bangchan chuckled, earning soft laughter from around the table.
Hyunjin ordered drinks for everyone. Three rounds in and people were already dipping, going into the counter to hit up girls, Dani and Felix clinging to each other in a corner and you tipsy still at the table with Wooyoung.
âSo youâre the matchmaker huh?â He slurred slightly, leaning in to speak better. You chuckled, âI wouldnât say match maker, thatâs just fate and instinct.â You winked earning a smirk from Wooyoung. âAre you with anyone?â Wooyoung asked, his gaze dark and hopeful? You nodded, âNope, you?â He chuckled, âI wouldnât be here if I did.â You hummed, taking in another shot.
After a bit of small conversation with Wooyoung about things like cooking, photography and whatever, he grew a bit restless, shifting in his seat continuously. You noticed and asked him about it. âI need a hit. You wanna come with?â He asked. You hesitated a bit, having not taken anything before. âDonât worry Iâll look out for you.â He assured, giving you a smile. You caved in, nodding and followed him out to the back.
He took your hand and led you to the back alleyway. Resting against the wall, pulling out the lighter and cigarettes from his back pocket. You leaned against the wall, beside him. Crossing your arms around yourself for warmth in the cold night. He glanced over at you, cig pressed in his lips, he shrugged off his brown jacket, draping it over your shoulders. You flinched a bit at the sudden gesture, âOh. Thank you~â you smiled earning a nod from him.
You watched carefully as he brought the lighter to his mouth, lighting it and sucked in a breath, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. He swirled the smoke in his mouth before letting it out with a soft hiss. He looked over at you with a smirk, âWant one?â He asked taking another drag out of it. âUh oh I donât-.â You hesitated a bit but was cut off as he brought the cig to your mouth, tapping your lips with the tip of it. His eyes dark and unyielding. You opened your mouth a bit to let it in, your gaze never leaving his. You sucked in a breath, the smoke cool on your tongue, choking slightly but let it out.
âHow was it?â Wooyoung asked without glancing at you knowing your answer. âFeels oddly satisfying.â You said, resting your head against the wall. âD-does it make you high?â You asked, voice cracking just a bit. He chuckled, nodding slowly. âIt can make you a lot of things, high, honest, drunk.. horny. You name it.â He said nonchalantly.
âHorny? That strong?â You asked, tilting your head to the side slightly. Wooyoung just smiled amusedly and handed the cig to you. You took a drag, still choking on it in the end but otherwise fine. You both stayed in silence, letting the smoke and cold air ease the tension between the both of you.
âhey.. donât mind me asking but.. is there a reason why your single?â He asked, breaking the tension with his curiosity. You looked at him, âdo I really need one to stay single?â You retorted back teasingly. âI mean who wouldnât want you, youâre smart, hardworking and funny, and so beautiful.â Wooyoung said with a sly smirk but his words genuine. âWell I havenât had anyone.. that could you know. Satisfy me or surprise me.â You said, shrugging slightly.
âAhh.. is that right?â He said, dusting off the ash from the cig and brought it to his mouth again, taking a longer drag this time. He dropped the used cigarette to the ground, his heavy boot rubbing into it. Wooyoung turned to face you abruptly, stalking closer, invading your personal space. You looked at him, cheeks heating up a bit with the way he looked at you. His chocolate brown eyes held a dangerous glint. Dark and lustful.
He grabbed your wrist, tugging you closer, snacking a hand around your waist while the other cupped your cheek. He looked at you, really looked at you for any sign of discomfort, giving you time to stop him before he crosses the thin line.
You grew impatient, crashing your lips onto his roughly, your fingers curling into firsts against his cooler, tugging him closer. He deepened the kiss, biting down at your lip enticing a gasp from you, giving him the clear window. He huffed out the smoke from his mouth into yours, letting you get high not just of the drug but his lips too. You moaned softly, pulling back to catch your breath.
âWas that surprising enough for you?â
Wooyoung asked, chuckling softly. You swatted his chest, rolling your eyes in annoyance.
His lips found yours again, this time slowly but with more purpose. It trailed from your lips to your jaw, peppering soft kisses before slipping to your neck. Alternating from kitten licks to hard sucking, Wooyoung littered your neck with subtle bruises and spit. You whimpered against him, the feeling shooting straight down to your core.
âDo you even know what youâre doing to me in this little outfit of yours?â He growled next to the shell of your ear as he tugged at your miniskirt.
âWooyoung..â you whimpered, tugging at his sleeve. He chuckled softly. âSo impatient. Tell me sweetheart. What do you need.â He asked, gaze never leaving you. âI want you please.â You pleaded, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. He noticed and placed his hand between your thighs, tutting in disappointment.
âBe specific baby, you want my cock or my fingers or my mouth in you.â
Wooyoung gave you one last try before he decided for himself. âI want your cock. Please Wooyoung.â You cried out, feeling the need to be filled. âAttagirl.â He smirked, turning you around and bending you over against the wall. His hands lifted the hem of the skirt above your ass, leaving you in your soaked lace panties, his fingers rubbed against your cunt slowly, testing. You whimpered at the contact, needing more immediately. âWooyoung..â you whined. He tsked and pulled the band to the side, exposing your bare cunt to him. You whimpered at the feeling of cold air being blown at your clit.
âYou want me sweetheart?â He asked, unzipping his own pants and freeing his painfully hard cock, giving it a lazy stroke as lined up with your entrance. âYes! I need you so bad-.â He cut you off with a sudden thrust. You cried out, hands clenched into fists against the wall as he bottomed out.
âFuck baby youâre so tight. This pussy is sucking me in like itâs made for me.â Wooyoung groaned. He started giving shallow thrusts, barely even moving as the feeling of your pussy fluttering and clenching around him still lingered. He began picking the pace up, his thrusts faster and deeper, moving with a purpose. You cried his name out, head dipping in pain turned pleasure.
His palm stayed spread over your ass while the other held your hip firmly, too firmly, you knew it was going you leave bruises the next day. He rammed into you mercilessly, groaned and whimpering softly every time you clenched. You began to grow louder with each thrust. The hand on your ass retracted for a second before slapping down on the plush skin. You jolted in shock, the sting hurting in the best ways.
âKeep it quiet slut, wouldnât want anyone to hear how well Iâm fucking you now do we?â Wooyoungs deep slutty voice only made you more needy as you nodded, biting down on your lip to silence the moans slipping out of you. The alleyway echoed of wet skin slapping and heavy panting. It was so obscene.
Wooyoung trailed his hand to your hair, yanking you back with force, pressing his chest against your back as he didnât even falter in his speed. âW-Wooyoung! I think Iâm gonna!â You moaned, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten with each thrust. He smirked, snacking a hand down to your clit, his fingers rubbing it in tight circles, while whispering sinful words into your ears. You grabbed at his bicep, bracing yourself as you came closer and closer to your high.
âcum for me sweetheart.â
Wooyoung allowed, and those words were enough to tip you over, your high crashing down on his cock with a silent scream of his name. He followed soon after, painting the insides of your walls white with hot stripes of cum. He gave couple of lazy thrusts to ride it out and finally stopped, pulling out slowly. The emptiness made you both whine.
âThat was great.â He smiled, helping your stand and fixing your outfit. You nodded, still dazed. âIâll call you Y/n.â He said with a smile that made you melt. You smiled back, âIâll be waiting.â You cooed earning a chuckle from the red head as he guided you back to the bar.
Dani waited out in front with Felix and his car. She spotted you and waved, at you to come. Wooyoung helped you get into the car, giving you a wink and short goodbye they drove away. You couldnât help but smile and sigh after the stuff that just happened.
The next day you woke up with a dry phone, no texts from Wooyoung whatsoever. You sulked the entire day, feeling upset and used. Eventually Dani caught on, âYah! Did you even give him your number?â She asked, crossing her hands. You gasped in disbelief, âI forgot! Thatâs Why! Tell Felix to give him my number please!â You begged, practically in your knees, pouting and whining.
Dani chuckled and nodded, pulling out her phone and typed in some shit. âNow we wait.â She said smiling. You sighed of relief knowing that he probably didnât actually ghost you.
WARNINGS : just super angsty, 18+ nsfw, a lot of death and violence, suffering, sad backstories, unprotected sex (be smart!), song mingi is super mean but slowly breaks, reader is CUNTY, misogynistic people, stereotypes, etc (Let me know if I missed anything~)
WORD COUNT: 6.5K
SYNOPSIS : Emperor Song Mingi of the kingdom of Dune, a ruthless tyrant ruler, is bound in an arranged alliance to Princess of the kingdom of Eden. What begins as a bitter coalition, marked by sharp words and cold silences, slowly shifts after a near-fatal event. Forced to depend on each other for survival, they begin to confront the unspoken tension between them as they face the looming war. In the chaos of their crumbling world, they find themselves navigating a delicate balance of power, trust, and fragile connection. Will the war tear them apart or will destiny give them way to a new beginning?
[This isnât proofread btw! Ignore spelling errors for my sake ;(]
CHAPTER 1
The carriage rattled as you leaned back, resting your head against the wall, staring into the endless abyss of darkness that swallowed the forest whole. Your thoughts consumed your mind, fidgeting with your fingers as your eyebrows creased. âPrincess?â The voice pulled you out of your trance. You glanced to your side, your advisor and bodyguard stared at you with concern written all over his face. âAre you feeling alright my highness?â His voice low and comforting. âIâm alright.. just thinking.â You gave him a small smile.
He nodded, not wanting to press into the matter. He leaned back, sighing. âAre you worried?â He asked, looking outside the window, the moonlight glazing his pale skin. âIâm not. I have to learn how to take care of matters in my own hands. Are you worried for me Jaemin?â You smirked slightly. âNot even the slightest. I know youâll do well.â Jaemin looked back at you, showing off his pearly whites with his dimple smile. âBut get some sleep yeah? Canât have them see you tired and weak.â You nodded and turned to the window, watching the dark scenery and slowly drifted off to sleep.
You woke up abruptly, Jaeminâs hand on your shoulder, shaking you softly. âPrincess wake up, we have arrived..â His voice slightly rough as he guided you out of the carriage. The cold air hit you like whiplash. But that wasnât the only thing that was cold. You glanced over to your side, the view of the dark, ominous castle sending shivers down your spine. It was tall with pointed roofs, guards at each tower, a flag representing the kingdom of Dune flapping steadily as the wind moved.
Jaemin looked at you, his eyebrows creased. âAre you okay princess?â You gave him a reassuring smile earning a nod from him. The sound of the huge castle doors opening attracted both of your attention as you turned to look. Jaemin stood beside you protectively, his hand on his sword, ready for anything. You stood up straight, wanting to seem more intimidating but the tremble in your breath showed otherwise. Out came soldiers, running in sync as they forming a path for him. You let out a breath you didnât even know you held back as he approached the entrance.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The soldiers stomped their boots on the ground in a synchronised manner, âThe Emperor has arrived!â One of them yelled out. You frowned slightly and looked towards the doors of the castle. There stood him and two men following closely behind. Your eyes fixed on him, as though some magnetic force were present. It was as if you were caught in the eye of a storm, terrified almost but cannot look away. Your eyes bore on his features almost mesmerised by it.
A towering figure with sleek, blonde hair slicked back, a few strands framing his sharp, chiseled face. His jawline is strong, and his prominent nose adds to his commanding presence. His full, plump lips and a scar through his right eyebrow only enhance the intensity of his piercing brown eyes. Broad shoulders and a slim waist are accentuated by his fitted oriental jacket and pants, which cling to his muscular thighs and biceps. As he moves, his black-and-white robe flows, each long step effortless, his gaze cutting through the crowd of soldiers with quiet power and confidence.
You sucked in a breath as his made his way to you. He finally stood in front of you, his height intimidating your own as he looked down, eyes burning with intensity. He extended his arm for a handshake. âSong Mingi. Emperor of Dune.â His deep raspy voice cut through the tension, face still stoic as ever. You took his hand in a firm handshake. âY/n L/n. Princess of Eden.â You addressed back politely, earning a nod from Mingi.
âFollow meâ Mingi said, turning around and walked towards the doors, you and Jaemin quickly fell in step with his as you approached the entrance. He walked you both through the castle, giving you a brief tour and introduction to the palace. Although you must say that the palace does not look as intimidating from inside as it does from the outside. Mingi finally led you to the meeting room. You were greeted by ministers from both Dune and Eden.
Jaemin guided you to the end of the long wooden table, standing right beside you as you got comfortable in your seat. Mingi sat right opposite to you, his bodyguards or whoever standing in each side. He then cleared his throat, earning the attention of the table. âThe Princess has finally arrived. Letâs get into business now shall we?â He said, cutting through the silence as the ministers nodded in agreement.
âMy highness, our deepest apologies for the absence of our Queen. She seems to have been.. stuck in Ming for now.â One of your ministers spoke up, bowing his head slightly in the direction of Mingi. âNo worries. I still have the Princess to negotiate with.â He said, glancing over at you. Your fingers fidgeted with your skirt underneath the table, your nervousness going unnoticed by almost everyone.
âThe Cold War is approaching soon. Dune and Eden seem to be the only allies of the region of Hala which is the north. Since Eden is closer to the borders of the southeast.. itâs more prone for attacks. Iâm assuming everyone here knows about this?â Mingi announced to the room, the men around the table nodded slowly, drinking in the known but feared information.
âIt is unsafe for our citizens. Ever since the assassination of the king.. the military arms have been inactive and less reliable. Since the truce of Eden and Dune, our people have slowly been shifting into this kingdom. It is only fair someone in power also rules over here to take care of them.â You declared, earning nods and yesâs from around the table. You met Mingiâs eyes, he seemed to be in thought as you noticed his fingers tapping the surface lightly. Then he leaned back, resting his arms upon the table.
âIn that case.. the princess will reside here.. she is still young and needs to learn how to become strong. By just looking at her we can see she is still weak and dependent on the Queen and it would be a shame for her to be pushed away.. the princess has potential which I can see and adore. This decision is being taken in regard of both kingdoms, for the safety and wellness of the people. The princess can come back stronger and intelligent to easily take over as the Queen and rule over Eden prosperously.â
Your ministers gasped softly. âBut-but my lord.. sheâs our only heir.. we need our people to also have eyes on her and guide her properly.. the Queen would-.â One of your people cried out. âOh donât be silly. She is in perfect hands here. Our people are highly trained, intelligent and capable to handle the princessâ needs and affairs. And besides I will be by her side. At all times.â Mingi leaned back in his seat, hands resting on the table as his gaze fixated on you. You clenched your jaw, glaring back at the blonde man. Jaemin sighed deeply beside you.
âBut letâs say.. the council and I.. agree to this arrangement. But ultimately the choice lies in the hands of my mother. The Queen-.â â âOh donât you worry about that, The Queen had already sent me her approval letter and statement.â Mingi cut you off, grabbing the booklet one of the men beside him pulled out and slid it towards you. You grabbed the booklet and went through every single word, trying to find a clause or forgery signs.. but it truly was the real deal.
âBelievable enough for you my princess?â Mingiâs voice all high and teasing with a smug expression on his face. Oh the way you wanted to slap it off of him. âSo I guess this concludes the meeting. I will arrange your return. You may have the rest of the evening for goodbyes.â Mingi stood up and dismissed the room, walking out with his ministers and soldiers while your people sat dumbfounded. They all looked at you with pity and remorse written all over their faces, even Jaeminâs. But suddenly, You stood up abruptly, startling the men.
âMy people.. I know that many of you have feared what this moment means for me, and for our people. It may seem as if I am being sold off, my presence traded for the sake of diplomacy and fragile promises of peace. But hear this clearly, I am not gone.
I may be leaving our castle, our land, and the very soil that raised me. But my heart will remain with you. I am still your princess, your ally, your voice.. I will carry our kingdom with me in every word, every decision, and every action I take. I will learn, I will grow, and one day, I will return. When that day comes, we will be stronger than ever before, and this kingdom will flourish like never before.â
Your voice echoed through the silent room, every person looking at you with newly found astonishment and gratitude. You bowed deeply for your people and walked out, Jaemin following closely behind you. âMy princess.. that was amazing. Y-you absolutely nailed that!â Jaemin exclaimed happily, grabbing your shoulders, spinning you to face him. âYour highness! Iâm so excited for what comes for us next I cannot wait to adventure this with you-.â â ahem ahem. You and Jaemin whipped your head towards the sound. There stood Mingi ans his two bodyguards behind him. âAm I interrupting something?â Mingi said with annoyance as he glared at the both of you. Jaemin immediately let go of your shoulders and stood protectively.
âNo my lord.â You bowed your head down in respect. âI hope you said your goodbyes, wouldnât want you to regret anything in the morning my princess.â Mingi grinned smugly. âYou donât have to worry about that.â You scoffed. âShow me to my dorm please.â You insisted. Mingi nodded and began walking down the long hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing. You fell in step beside him, the height difference made him smirk slightly.
âThis is where you will reside Princess. My dorm is right above yours. If you need anything.. let one of the hall members know.â Mingi nodded and turned to leave. âWait! W-what about him?â You called out, glancing over at Jaemin. Mingi stopped in his tracks, turning his head, glancing over at you from behind his shoulder. âHe will be gone by tomorrow. No need for his room.â You scoffed. âIâm sorry? He wonât be accommodating me anymore?â Your eyes burnt holes in the back of his head. âLike I said princess. My people will be more than enough for your needs. Say your goodbyes and head to sleep.â Mingi stated and left the room, leaving you burning with rage.
âPrincess-.â â âHow dare he! Heâs.. heâs cutting me off from my-.â Jaemin cupped your face, calming you down. âMy princess. Please calm down. Your mother wanted this for a long time. She wanted you to be independent and strong enough to handle anything that comes your way. The Queen told me-.âââYou knew!? You knew and didnât tell me Jae? I- I thought you trusted me! You promised to tell me everything!â You cried out, punching at his armoured chest. âMy sweet Y/n.. I had to hide this. For your sake. The Queen and I both knew you would refuse and throw tantrums if brought up earlier.. Iâm sorry my princess.â Jaemin sniffed, tears filling his eyes. âGod.. what do I do without you jae?â You sobbed, laying your forehead on his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Jaemin patted your head softly, his other hand resting on the small of your back.
âRemember when we were younger.. youâd chase around small animals with your poorly made leaf dagger in order to âprotectâ me?â Jaemin chuckled, his chin resting on the top of your head. You sniffled a laugh. âGod I was such a foolish child.â You snorted.
âYou surely were. But you were brave and strong. You still are.. I will always remember the time you saved that small peasant boy from drowning in the stream. I hadnât even known you could swim!ââ
âIt was an impulse! I didnât want him to die.. Iâm not cruel you know.â You pouted and Jaemin pulled back slightly to cup your face, his thumb wiping away tears that left your eyes.
âY/n, Iâve known you all my live. Iâve seen your good and your bad and youâve seen mine. If little you could try and scare away little critters that try to âhurtâ me using a small leaf or if you could instinctively save a life then imagine the wonders you can do now. Youâre strong, intelligent, capable of making your own decisions without hesitation or influence, and your sweet, kind and caring.â
Jaemin smiled at you, his adorable boyish smile that you loved. âI think you have seen the state of this kingdom. Cold, ominous and just utterly pathetic. Show them the light Y/n. Be the light that guides these poor people from the dark.â He said, his voice low and comforting. You nodded, holding tight at his waist, not wanting to let go of him. Jaemin placed a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling back.
âI will miss you my princess. Always remember to reach out whenever youâre distressed or just need to chit chat.â He said, reached out to pat your shoulder. âI will miss you too jae. Donât forget me!â You teased making him chuckle. âNever.â He whispered before bowing down deeply and walked out of the room, sparing you some alone time.
You stood there, staring at the door he just left through. You felt incomplete without Jaemin by your side. You slowly made your way towards the bed, sliding under the covers and sobbed yourself to sleep, not wanted to wake up the next day to see them leave you in this foreign, cold land.
You stood beside Mingi, your nails scratching the inner corners of your fingers anxiously as you watched the ministers enter the carriages. Your eyes fell on Jaemin as he helped one of the older ministers into the carriage. When he finally met your eyes, he shot you a knowing nod as he climbed into the carriage, making you smile slightly. The castle gates began to open, the sound echoing through the vast valleys and mountains. You let out a sigh and looking down, not wanting to witness the departure. After a while you heard the sounds of the gates closing. You looked up with teary eyes, no one was there anymore. Just you.
âDo you need a day for yourself princess?â His voice called out for you. You turned to your side, Mingi looking down at you, his expression unreadable. âNo Iâll be alright. Letâs get started.â Mingi seemed to hesitate a bit before nodding and lead you back into the palace. âI have appointed you a guard and advisor. They will be by your side and report to you only. Letâs go meet them now shall we?â Mingi asked politely. He seems to be weirdly nicer today. You thought to yourself. You nodded at him and he lead you to his office.
The large wooden door creaked open as Mingi pushed through it, holding it open for you to enter. Inside the room 4 men resided. Two of them you recognised as Mingis bodyguards and the other two unidentified. âThis is Choi Jongho, army general. He will be your bodyguard, protecting and training you and by your side every step of the day.â Mingi said, gesturing at the man, now called Jongho. Jongho stepped forward, bowing his head in respect. âGeneral Choi at your service princess.â You bowed down to him, smiling softly.
âThis is Jung Wooyoung. He will be your advisor. Any questions or concerns, you can tell him, any errands to be ran, heâs by your side. At all times.â Mingi gestured to the other man, wooyoung. Wooyoung was a bit shorter than the rest, his black hair slick back and eyes a bit asymmetrical but still pretty. Wooyoung stepped forward, extending his arm for a handshake you thought. âJung Wooyoung at your service my princess.â He smirked, you placed your hand in his, watching as he brought the back of your palm to his lips, placing a soft kiss. You smiled, nodding.
âCut it out. These are my men. Jeong Yunho and Choi San. If Iâm not available you can reach out to them as well.â Mingi rolled his eyes in annoyance, earning a snicker from Wooyoung. âAny questions princess?â Mingi asked, looking straight at you. âNo sir.â You nodded. âWooyoung and Jongho will accompany you around the training site. You need to learn basic self defence.â He stepped towards you, towering over you. âIs that understood?â Mingi said, looking down at you, his expression unreadable. âYes sir.â Your voice came out as a whisper. He simply nodded at you and gestured to follow the other two out. You bowed your head slightly and walked out of the room.
After a detailed tour around the castle and town, the three of you were on the way back to the castle, the cold night air making you shiver. âYou cold princess?â Wooyoung asked, looking at your pale face. You nodded and he immediately took off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. âIâm wearing multiple layers underneath, loosing one doesnât really matter to me.â He reassured, flashing a small smile at you and you thanked him. âI-I thought we were training today though?â You asked, glancing over at Jongho who followed the both of you silently.
âYou havenât received the proper clothing for it. You need to be able to move freely to train properly.â Jongho stated. âNo worries. We need you to get comfortable and used to the place first right!â Wooyoung exclaimed. You stared back at the man, holding back a smile. âI thought Iâd lighten the mood.â He said, looking down, biting his cheeks. You chuckled at his behaviour, finding it adorable.
You crossed your hands across your chest for warmth as Wooyoung walked beside you making some small talk, his hands behind his back and Jongho walked a few steps behind you silently, hand on his sword and highly alert since we were walking through the shallow woods. âWe are here. Letâs go in for dinner.â Wooyoung announced and guided you back into the castle, towards the dinning hall.
The huge doors opened to Mingi and his men, Yunho and San seated at the end of the long wooden dining table. âHow was training?â Mingi asked, his voice echoing through the hall. âWe-.âââIt was good. The princess is a fast leaner, Isnât that right?â Wooyoung cut you off, shooting a wink at your way. You held back a smile and nodded. Mingi hummed, âEat. The food will get cold.â He said, gesturing you three to take a seat. You sat between Wooyoung and Jongho. Wooyoung leaned in, his shoulder brushing against yours. âHe might get mad if he knew we wasted time today. Tomorrow we train alright? Tell Jongho.â Wooyoung whispered. You chuckled and nodded, turning to Jongho and leaning into his ear to convey Wooyoungs words. Mingi watched the interaction closely, Wooyoung met his eyes and smiled making Mingi roll his eyes.
After dinner Jongho said goodbye to the both of you and returned to his dorm for the night. Wooyoung turned to you, âLetâs get some rest?â Wooyoung asked, smiling softly. You nodded and followed him as he walked towards your dorm. âCould I ask you something princess?â He probed, looking straight head. âUh sure what is it?âââWhy is it that you are here..? I mean I do know itâs because of the agreement but.. is there another reason?â Wooyoung said, stopping in his tracks and looking straight at you, his eyes held a curious glint. You chuckled. âShouldnât you ask your beloved majesty? Even I donât know why he wants me here.â You replied with a sarcastic tone but you truly were serious. Wooyoung chuckled. âOh so it was Mingiâs idea huh.â You nodded and resumed walking.
You reached your dorm and turned to Wooyoung. âThank you for today Sir Jung. Thank you for making me feel more comfortable here.â You smiled and bowed to him. He chuckled at your words. âWooyoung. Call me wooyoung princess. I donât need formality between us alright?â You nodded, giggling a bit. You bid him goodbye and waited till he left. You turned to open the door, entering into your room. Your hands felt the wall to find the light switch and flipped it on. You turned around and yelped.
âYou did a lot of training today didnât you princess?â His deep voice sent shivers down your spine. âWhy a-are you here?â Your voice came out trembling. He turned around to face you, and oh boy he looked mad. âYou three had the audacity to lie to me? Did you really think I wouldnât find out?â Mingi raised his voice, stalking towards you like a predator to a prey. âI-Iâm sorry.. I didnât-.âââYou didnât what?â
Mingi stood barely inches away from you, his gaze burning into yours. You stood straight, trying not to feel inferior. âIâll be accompanying you from tomorrow. Iâll let this time slide but if you repeat this. You wonât like whatâs coming. Understood?â Mingi barked down at you. You nodded, eyes glued to the floor, deciding to stay silent but it quickly backfired.
Mingi grabbed your jaw roughly, gripping it in a way forcing you to look up at him,
âUse your words princess or are you illiterate as well? Is that fucking understood?â
He growled, his face inches away from yours. âY-yes sir. I understand. I wonât repeat it.â You whispered, eyes tearing up just a bit. He nodded and let go of you, walking out of the dorm leaving you dumbfounded. You slammed the door behind him, locking it and headed into the bathroom, stripping yourself of all clothing and ran the shower.
You stood under the warm water as it hit your head, calming you down just a fraction. You felt humiliated and belittled by that selfish bastard of a man. How dare he. You felt your blood burn with anger the more you thought of the interaction. You hopped out of the shower, changing into your pyjamas and headed to bed, making sure the doors and windows were locked, slowly sliding under the comfy covers that felt cold on your skin. You tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep but it never came. You sighed defeated and sat up, stepping out of bed and tied on a robe.
You slowly unlocked and opened your door, looking around just incase and crept down the hallway. Your hands crossed around yourself for warmth as your legs mindlessly walked around the backside of the vast palace. It was dark and windy, small flakes of snow glittered the ground and sky, giving the atmosphere a misty look. You clutched to your robe, spotting a building in the corner of your eye. You squinted to see if whether there was anyone near the area and slithered your way towards the back door, looking around and slipped in.
You let out a soft gasp, taking in the sight in front of you. A vast swimming pool stretches out like a sheet of polished glass, so wide and long that its far edge almost blurs into the distance. The water is a clear, luminous blue, catching the light and rippling softly with slow, gentle movement. Along the sides, smooth stone frame the pool. Your lips curled into a smile as you walked along the sides of the pool, mesmerised by the beautiful architecture. You were so coming back here tomorrow night.
The next morning, you headed out with Wooyoung and Jongho to the study. It was right after breakfast, you felt a bit sulky but motivated to prove Mingi wrong. âHey uh can I ask you guys something?â You spoke up, earning the attention of both the men. They both nodded, gesturing you to continue. âYesterday I kind of stumbled upon a.. building behind the palace. It was in the far back, no patrol or anything around the place. I thought it was abandoned but-.âââIs it the basin?â Jongho cut you off. You nodded earning a hum of agreement from Wooyoung.
âThe basin isnât abandoned, there is regular checking done for the waters but no one uses it. The former king built it for the crown prince himself. But he never used it. No one knows why.â Wooyoung answered, his voice neutral and low. âIs it forbidden to use?â You asked, Jongho chuckled. âNo princess it isnât forbidden. You can still use it but incase you drown, donât bother screaming as no one will hear you. The basin is located in a.. letâs say a secluded area. Itâs a bit far from the palace and right next to the woods.â
âHow did you even find it in the first place? Were you out of your dorm at night?â Wooyoung asked almost concerningly. âI saw during our tour.. thatâs all.â You lied smoothly. Wooyoung nodded and continued walking in silence. You finally reached the study, Wooyoung stepped inside, holding the door open for the both of you.
The study wasnât too small. It was just right. A big wooden desk in the middle, a whole wall filled with books, seating area and more book shelves. It was a perfect little space. You sat opposite to Wooyoung and Jongho, they were discussing amongst themselves on something you couldnât quite understand. You stayed quiet, not wanting to interfere and looked around the room.
âDo you know anything about our clans? Their history?â Wooyoungâs voice brought your attention back on them. You nodded, âA bit.â Wooyoung sighed and turned to his side, grabbing a book off the table and slid it towards you. âLetâs start off with a debrief then.â He smiled and began teaching you about the different clans, their history, their diverse cultures, what their known for and what they contribute to the motherland.
After what felt like an eternity you somewhat learned something. Wooyoung sighed tiredly, leaning back in the chair, shutting the book abruptly. âI will test you tomorrow. I have to make sure you really learnt.â Wooyoung smirked seeing you roll your eyes at him. You nodded and leaned back, closing your eyes for a brief moment.
âIs this what you call learning?â Your eyes shot open at the familiar voice. You looked up and saw Mingi staring daggers at your state. You sat up and looked down at your lap. âWe just completed our session.â You said, earning a scoff from Mingi. âDoesnât look like it.â He rolled his eyes in annoyance. You looked up at him, frowning. âWhat do you know. You just came in.â You jabbed at him. Wooyoung and Jonghoâs eyes widened at your retort while Mingi just stared at you.
âNow if you excuse me. Iâll be in my dorm.â You said, picking up your books and walked past Mingi, Jongho and Wooyoung following behind you. Wooyoung snorted, âWhere did that come from now? I thought you were shit scared of him!â Wooyoung exclaimed, nudging at your shoulder making you chuckle. âI have no reason to be scared of him. Itâs Mingi thatâs supposed to be scared of me.â Jongho snickered behind you both making you giggle. âWell arenât you going to join us for dinner?â Jongho asked. âIâm not hungry.. I think Iâll just go straight to bed. All this studying is killing me.â You groaned making Wooyoung smile. They both bid you goodbye as you reached your dorm and left. You set your books aside on the table and changed into your casual clothes. âIâll go swimming next time. I need to study tonight.â You reminded yourself and dove straight into your books.
You finally completed your studies into the late hours of the night. Moonlight casting a subtle shine on your face as you looked out of the window, into the gardens. It was yet again another cold and snowy night. You knew this would be the way you will spend your nights every day til you leave. You sighed and put away the books, blowing at the candle to extinguish it and got up, grabbing your towel and headed into the bathroom. You slid off the straps of your dress, untying your boots, sliding down your underpants and inner skirt, hopping into the hot shower.
You stepped out, wrapping the towel around your torso and went into the bedroom, standing before your cupboard trying to find your night gowns.
knock knock knock
You flinched, clutching at your towel, begging for it not to fall. You stayed quiet, hoping the person would leave. But they didnât, they knocked again, harder. You grabbed your clothes, changing quickly and went towards the door, standing before it, hesitant. The knocks grew harder and more aggressive. âY/n open the door.â A familiar voice called out for you from the other side. You still hesitated, staying silent and still. âY/n itâs Mingi. Open the door now. I know youâre awake.â You held your breath, grabbing at the handle. You opened the door only to find Mingi jump at you, his palm clamped around your mouth, keeping you silent while his other hand wrapped around your arms, keeping you still. Your eyes were wide with confusion and fear. He pushed inside, shutting the door with his leg, his eyes never left you.
âIf I let go of you, will you say quiet for me?â He asked, no no he demanded. You nodded slowly as he let go of you, standing straight. You took in a deep breath, hoping he would give you an explanation for this predicament. Mingiâs eyes scanned the room silently. âWhatâs going on?â Your voice came out soft and trembling. Mingi looked at you, letting out a sigh.
âThere was an attack at the border.â his voice soft. âYour.. your ministers and guards that were returning back to Eden were ambushed.â Mingi looked down, looking as though he was guilty.
You froze at his words, breath hitched and eyes now teary. âSomeone must have tipped off the neighbouring kingdoms.. someone internal. A mole in the palace.â Mingi looked up at you, his face concerned but stern. You clenched your jaw, anger flowing through your veins. âYou said they would be fine? That the road was so safe for them. You.. you gave out false reassurance to all of them Mingi.â You muttered, glaring at the tall blonde. âPrincess, I hadnât known we had a mole-.â â
âDo not give me your fucking excuses! You- you promised them.. you promised me that theyâd be safe! That theyâd get home on time! God and itâs been days since they left.. and now it just means that they have been captured for so long without anyoneâs knowledge.â You began spiralling, hands gripping at your night gown, angry tears flowing down your cheeks, your lips quivering.
Mingi walked towards you despite telling him to stay back. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. You sobbed into his chest, wetting his shirt. âShh.. calm down y/n.â He said, gently patting your back. âWhy- why was their route plan public? You could have just kept it to yourself and the guards and-.â â âLike I said princess, it is an inside job. Someone close is the mole. That is why we cannot risk sharing this information to anyone, the mole could be a guard, advisor or even a minister.â Mingi cut you off, reminding you of his words once more.
âI shouldâve been there with them..! This is all your fault! You didnât let me go, keeping me here like your slave and for what!â You cried out, pushing him back so he could see exactly how mad you were.
âYou would have been taken too! I would have to help your stubborn ass either way. And youâre right, I have no reason to keep you here. Youâre useless to me. The only reason I agreed was because of how close I was with the Late King.â Mingi growled, causing your breath to hitch.
âNow that we have that clear, cooperate with me for bit more so that you can get your people back and leave this place you call hell hole. Train and learn properly, and weâll find your men in no time. Understood?â He said, his face not showing an ounce of emotion anymore. You clenched your jaw, too frustrated to listen to his words anymore. âGet out.â You whispered. âFor gods sake Y/nâââGet out!â You cut him off, yelling now. Mingi exhaled sharply and turned around, stepping out of the room, slamming the door shut.
You let out a sob, falling to your knees as guilt ate you whole. You felt guilty that you couldnât be there for them or had even known about it sooner so you could act faster. You sobbed into your palms. Jaemin. You gasped softly, they had Jaemin too. You broke down crying at the thought of something happening to Jaemin. You couldnât let that happen. You were going to make whoever did this pay.
âTerrible news was brought back to us last night. The men of Eden, the ministers, guards and advisors of the council of Eden were ambushed and taken away. We donât know who did it but we most probably know their motive for it. This is the Souths way of announcing war on the North. I have already sent a letter to the East, the Kingdom of Sang. Emperor Bahng will reluctantly join us, so no doubt in that. Anyone else suggests anything?â Mingi announced the room, letting everyone know of the recent events.
âWhich region is close to your borders? If im not wrong.. the kingdom of Wonderland governed by Emperor Kim and the kingdoms of The Lost Island and Shadow reside also nearby right. They all too have motives of expanding into the north and in order to do that they would have to start wars. I say we look into those three for now, incase nothing really shows up we expand our options. But at all costs we do not give up. Understood?â You gave out your calculated answer, earning yesâ and nods from the men around the table.
Mingi nodded, giving out orders everyone and sent them off leaving you, Jongho and Wooyoung left in the room. âThere is something I need you both to look into.â Mingi addressed to Wooyoung and Jongho. They straightened up listening to what Mingi had to say.
âSo there is a mole among us now?â Jongho rolled his eyes in annoyance. Mingi nodded at him. âI need you both to figure out who is it. It is someone close, thatâs guaranteed. You need to do this task simultaneously as you train princess y/n. We canât have her be a liability to us incase what she said was right. If we do go into war, we need all hands on deck. Understood?â Jongho and Wooyoung agreed and got ready to leave.
âJongho. Start with self defence today.â Mingi called out. You frowned at him. âI thought you were going to quiz me?â You asked confused. He shook his head, âYou seem well revised. From now we teach you how to defend yourself and others incase of attacks. But along with that you need to study too. You grasp information quickly so I doubt it would be a headache for you.â You smirked at his words and nodded, exiting the room along with Wooyoung and Jongho.
âWell can I just say that you seemed so very very hot being all smart ass back there.â Wooyoung teased making you blush, âWell I had good teachers so~â you teased back, nudging at Wooyoung and Jongho making them giggle. âAre you upset?â Jongho spoke up, his voice soft but firm. You shook your head. âI have no reason to be. Yes I was upset at first but it isnât something I can control. In whatever scenario that would have happened I just hope Jaemin and the others are alright. Thatâs all I pray for.â You sighed deeply, feeling tears fill of your eyes again.
âCan I ask. Who really is Jaemin. I donât believe he is just your bodyguard and advisor. Ooo is he your boyfriend?â Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows. You slapped his shoulder. âJaemin isnât my boyfriend. He is my brother type friend Iâve had since I was a child. Thatâs why weâre so close.â You smiled thinking of how you were as kids with him. âThatâs cute. Well come on now today is gonna be a long day of hard work.â Wooyoung said walking forward.
Yeah.. long day.
[A/N: Hiii everyone! Sorry for making you wait so much but itâs finally here! I decided to make it chapter by chapter because I brainstormed too much for such a short time. Hope you all enjoyed chapter 1 and please do give me advice on how to write. It is my first time doing long stories. Love you~]
summary: y/n had no idea running into the woods that day would end with her bound to the heir of the night court and forever twined between him and his best friend with winter at his fingertips
warning: violence, death, more to be added
genre: romance, fantasy, throuple, smut
pairing: fae yunho x human afab reader x fae mingi
The sound of the door creaking open echoed louder than it should have. Y/N didnât move. She couldnât. Her limbs felt heavy, her mouth still parted around a breath that hadnât quite made it out. Magic clung to her skin like sweat, cooling now, the heat of the spell gone, but its ghost still lingered in every inch of her body. She was still sprawled on the table, skin flushed, bare and dazed as Wooyoung stepped in. Then froze. âOh.â Just that. One syllable. Sharp with realization. Soft with sympathy. Bright with oh no.
âOh no,â he said again, eyes instantly snapping to the ceiling like it had personally done him a favor. âI didnâtâŠâ Y/N croaked, then shut her mouth. There was no explanation for this. Not one that didnât sound like a confession. âI didnât see anything,â he said too quickly, gaze darting everywhere but at her. âI see absolutely nothing. I have never seen less in my life. In fact, Iâm going to stare at this extremely interesting⊠curtain. Is that velvet? Stunning choice.â
Y/N groaned, dropping an arm over her face as Wooyoung was rifling through the wardrobe in the corner, talking a mile a minute. âYou donât have to explain. Truly. This is a judgment free zone. I once woke up after the Equinox Ball completely naked in a goblinâs pantry with a candy crown on myâŠ. anyway, here we are.â He tossed something soft in her direction without looking and Y/N caught it on instinct, a long, sheer wrap of midnight blue silk that didnât remotely count as real clothing. âWooyoung,â she said flatly.
âItâs ceremonial!â he defended. âAnd it wonât stick to any leftover enchantments! You want a full velvet gown right now and end up stuck to it like a spell fried fly?â
âGods.â
âIâve got options! You want scandalous, disguised, or just enough fabric to keep me from walking in on your ass again?â She huffed a laugh at him, burying her face in the crook of her elbow as the music from the festival outside floated in, soft strings, a haunting melody drifting through open windows like smoke. Laughter echoed faintly, voices warm with celebration, unaware of the chaos inside these walls. âDid he say anything?â she asked, voice quiet now. Wooyoung paused. âMingi? Just a blur of limbs and guilt and zero eye contact.â
Her heart squeezed as she slowly sat up, the silk barely clinging to her as she wrapped it around herself and Wooyoung finally looked at her, eyes scanning her face with the kind of concern he rarely showed without layering it in glitter and sarcasm. âYou okay?â Y/N nodded. Then shook her head. âI donât know what that was.â He crouched in front of her, voice softer now. âWell, it wasnât just sex magic. Not that intense. Something else laced it.â She flinched. â It was like I was being hollowed out from the inside,â she whispered. âBut it didnât hurt. It felt likeâŠ. like my body wasnât mine anymore. Like it belonged to the spell. To him.â
Wooyoung didnât joke this time. He simply reached out and gently helped her to her feet. âCome on,â he murmured. âYou should rest.â She leaned on him as he guided her toward the bed.
The door shut behind Mingi with a dull thud. He didnât move from where he stood just inside the threshold, soaked in moonlight spilling through the open balcony. His jaw was tight, hands clenched at his sides, breath still uneven like heâd run here, and maybe he had. From her. From himself. Yunho sat in the chair by the fire, long legs stretched out, shirt half undone, a glass of amber wine untouched in his hand. He didnât need to look to know his best friend was unraveling. âI shouldnât have touched her,â Mingi muttered, pacing now. âFuck, Yunho. I shouldâve known that spell was wrong the second it hit. I shouldâveâŠ.â
âYou stopped,â Yunho said calmly.
âI didnât stop fast enough.â
âYou did.â
Mingi whirled, eyes wild, chest heaving. âYou didnât see her.â
âI felt it,â Yunho said, voice low. âEvery second of it. The bondâs not selective about that.â That stopped Mingi cold. The fire popped between them, a sharp crack that filled the silence neither wanted to touch. âI didnât mean for it to happen like that,â Mingi finally said, dragging a hand through his hair. âI didnât mean for it to happen at all.â
âI know.â
âShe was looking at me likeâŠ. like I was somethingâŠ. Like I had her soul in my fucking hands.â
Yunhoâs jaw tightened as he set the wine down without sipping it and Mingi dropped onto the edge of the bed, face in his hands. âMaybe it wasnât the spell. Maybe Iâm just selfish.â Yunho leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, voice quieter now. âYouâre not selfish. You like her.â That drew Mingiâs gaze up fast, sharp with shock, but he didnât deny it. Yunho met his eyes, something unreadable in his own. âThat doesnât make you selfish. It makes you stupid. Like me.â
A bitter smile ghosted across Mingiâs lips, but it didnât last. âShe wouldnât be here if it werenât for you,â he said and Yunho exhaled slowly, letting the weight of that truth settle between them. âSometimes I wonder if I shouldâve left her alone that day.â The silence that followed wasnât just silence. It was guilt. He regretted saying it as soon as the words left him. âIf I hadnât pulled her across the barrier, she wouldnât be bound to me. She wouldnât be stuck here. She wouldnât be a target. Sheâd be living some quiet mortal life. Whole. Untouched by this realm and all its curses.â Mingi stood abruptly, fists clenched again. âSheâd be dead, Yunho.â Yunhoâs eyes flicked up. âThat thing in the woods wouldâve shredded her. You saved her. And maybe it was messy, maybe it broke all the ancient rules, but sheâs alive because of you.â
âI tied her to me,â Yunho said. âThat magic doesnât fade. Not fully. Sheâs stuck in a world she doesnât understand, surrounded by people who want to use her or kill her, and half of them canât tell the difference.â
âAnd the other half,â Mingi said softly, âare trying to protect her.â Yunhoâs expression shifted then, something flickering in the hollow of his chest, beneath all that duty and shadow. âI donât know how to protect her from this. From me. From my father.â
âYou donât have to do it alone.â
Yunho looked at him as Mingi stepped closer, voice steady now as the fire snapped in the fireplace snapped. Outside, the distant hum of the festival played like a lullaby for the damned as Yunho rose slowly, walking toward the balcony. He gripped the railing, moonlight washing over his skin like frost, his shadow stretching long behind him. âShe doesnât belong here,â he said quietly, eyes fixed on the stars. âSheâs human. She shouldâve never crossed the barrier.â
âSheâs not some fragile thing,â Mingi added. âThat doesnât mean sheâs safe here,â Yunho muttered. âYouâve seen what this world does to mortals. They donât last long. Not unless theyâre protected. Not unless theyâre hidden.â Mingi tilted his head, watching his best friend. âSo hide her.â Yunho glanced at him. âProtect her, if thatâs what you want,â Mingi said. âKeep her close. But donât stand here and act like saving her was some kind of mistake.â
Yunho was quiet for a long beat. Then, he said, low and bitter, âSheâs bound to me, Mingi. She canât let me go even if she wants to.â Mingiâs jaw clenched as he took a step closer, voice softer now. âSo donât give her a reason to.â Yunho turned his face away, but Mingi caught the flicker of guilt in his eyes. Neither of them said anything for a while. Just stood there, letting the festiva wind drift in, thick with music and magic and the scent of autumn roses. âSheâs not just yours to carry,â Mingi said again. âAnd sheâs not as alone as you think.â Yunho finally looked at him. And though the weight didnât lift, it settled. Not gone. But shared.
Morning light spilled lazily across the stone floor, slipping in through the sheer drapes and softening the rich golds and ambers of the guest room walls. The scent of crushed petals still lingered faintly in the air from the night before, mixed with something warmer, bread, maybe. Or cinnamon. A gentle knock sounded at the door before it creaked open without waiting. âGood morning,â Felicity said, her voice low, polite. âApologies if Iâve disturbed you.â
Y/N stirred beneath the velvet blanket draped over her body. Her limbs ached, not from exertion, but from the way tension had coiled and uncoiled inside her all night. She didnât remember falling asleep. Only the way Mingiâs hands had felt on her thighs, the pull of the spell still humming in her bones when he ran. And then Wooyoungâs careful hands, his flushed face as he helped her dress in silence. Now, she blinked up at Felicity. âNo,â she croaked, throat dry. âItâs fine.â
Felicity stepped further in, her auburn braid trailing over one shoulder. She carried a silver tray balanced on one hand with the kind of elegance only the fae seemed to possess. Her eyes, sharp and knowing, swept over Y/N, not unkindly, but with a curiosity that was harder to hide now as she set the tray down on the table by the hearth. âLord Hongjoong asked me to bring you breakfast,â she said simply. âHeâd like you to join him in the east gardens when youâve finished.â Y/N slowly pushed herself upright, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. âDid he say why?â Felicity gave a small shrug, but her mouth quirked like she knew more than she let on. âOnly that itâs a beautiful day. And that thereâs much to discuss.â
Of course there was. Y/N looked down at the tray, warm bread, spiced butter, honeyed fruit, and tea fragrant enough to cut through the thrum in her head. Her stomach twisted. âIâll be ready soon,â she said quietly. Felicity nodded once, all poise. âIâll return shortly.â As the door shut behind her, Y/N exhaled and let her head fall back against the headboard. Her heart beat unsteadily, echoing in her throat. She ate quietly before Wooyoung showed up instead of Felicity.
She sat by the balcony. Her gaze was locked on the far end of the garden below, where two Autumn Court guards stood idly, chatting. Their wings shimmered when they moved. The corset dress Wooyoung had pulled out, navy blue velvet, with delicate black embroidery and thin satin straps, lay draped across the chaise beside her.
She washed in silence. Let the cold water erase whatever clung to her skin. She didnât cry. Didnât scream. She didnât feel humiliated. She felt⊠out of place. Like something had cracked open, and sheâd glimpsed something she wasnât supposed to see. The way Mingi had looked at her. Like she was fire and he wanted to burn. The way he had run.
The knock at her door was gentle this time. Y/N paused in front of the mirror, finishing the last clasp of the corset. Her fingertips stilled. âYes?â she called, voice even. âItâs Felicity,â came the now familiar voice through the door. âAre you ready?â Y/N blinked once, then turned back to the mirror and tugged the corset tighter. âTell Hongjoong Iâll be there shortly,â she replied, heart pounding and feeling as if she were turned upside down and didnât know how to flip upright again.
The gardens of the Autumn Court were a dream caught between seasons, leaves the color of garnets and copper coins drifting down in lazy spirals, roses still blooming like theyâd forgotten it was winter elsewhere. Ivy twisted up marble archways, and fae lanterns hummed faintly above their heads, casting a golden glow that flickered like candlelight. Y/N walked beside Hongjoong in silence for a long moment, the dark navy corset hugging her ribs like armor. She held herself with purpose, chin high, steps sure, even if every breath she took still felt a little too tight in her lungs. He hadnât said anything when she arrived, just offered his arm and a soft, unreadable smile before leading her away from the inner palace.
It wasnât until they reached the silver pond, glassy and still, that he finally broke the quiet. âHow are you feeling after last night?â he asked, tone gentle but too knowing. Y/Nâs eyes remained on the surface of the water. A pair of blue winged sprites skimmed across it, laughing in soft bursts as they darted between cattails. âIâm trying to forget about it,â she said simply. Hongjoong exhaled through his nose and nodded once, eyes flicking toward the path ahead. âFair enough.â
They resumed walking. His robes brushed against the leaves as he moved, the faint scent of cinnamon and aged leather clinging to him like always. Y/N waited until the hedge grew tall around them, casting long shadows across the cobbled path, before speaking again. âWho was she?â she asked, quiet but firm. âThe woman who spelled us. Mingi and me.â Hongjoongâs groan was immediate, theatrical, and full of dread. âDrusilla,â he muttered, like the name itself gave him indigestion. âTidusâ younger sister. Honestly, I was hoping youâd never have to meet her.â
Y/N arched a brow. âWell, too late.â He sighed. âSheâs a chaos artist. Petty, cruel, brilliant when it comes to magic. AndâŠ.â he winced, âshe and Yunho had a thing. Off and on. For about half a century.â That got Y/N to stop walking. âIâm sorryâŠ. what?â Hongjoong scratched the back of his neck and looked vaguely ashamed, like heâd just admitted to letting someone keep a chimera as a house pet. âNot many know the details. Whatever happened between them, it ended badly. Yunho hates her now. Wonât speak her name. Iâd wager he didnât even know sheâd be at the festival last night.â Y/N crossed her arms, lips pressing into a thin line. âSo she spelled Mingi and me just to mess with Yunho?â
âMost likely.â His voice dropped into something grim. âSheâs vindictive, and dangerous. She doesnât do anything without a motive.â A sharp breeze stirred the leaves around them. Y/Nâs eyes followed a single crimson petal as it tumbled to the ground near her boot. âShe made me lose control,â she said, not looking at him. âShe made Mingi as well.â Hongjoongâs voice softened. âYou didnât do anything wrong.â
âI know.â But her jaw clenched anyway as they kept walking. A rust colored fox darted across the path ahead, then vanished into the brush like smoke. Somewhere beyond the hedges, the sound of bells chimed once, then faded. âSheâll try something else,â Y/N said after a beat. âWonât she?â Hongjoong nodded, sighing. âOh, absolutely,â he replied. âShe always does.â They turned past a marble fountain shaped like a weeping willow, water cascading in thin silver streams down its stone branches.
Y/N brushed her fingers along the cool edge as they passed, her gaze lingering on the glimmering surface before she caught up to Hongjoong again. He glanced sideways at her, more thoughtful now. âTell me about your life before the binding,â he said, tone casual, but the weight behind it was anything but. Y/Nâs lips curved, but the smile didnât reach her eyes. âThereâs not much to tell.â He waited, silent, patiently as she shrugged. âAfter my parents died, I was taken in by a family. Jonghoâs. Heâs my best friend.â Her fingers toyed with a loose thread at the cuff of her sleeve. âThey didnât have much, but they gave me everything they could. A roof, food, love. And Jongho always made me feel like I still had a home.â Hongjoongâs expression softened. âHe sounds like a good human.â
âHe is.â Her throat tightened a little. âI havenât seen him since the raid. We were in the village when the bandits came. Got separated. I had to run⊠I donât know if heâs safe.â Hongjoong paused, then offered, âIf you tell me where the village was, I can send word. Quietly.â Y/Nâs shoulders eased just slightly. âThank you.â They walked a little farther before Hongjoong asked, more gently this time, âAnd your parents? What do you remember about them?â
Y/N stopped again. âI donât,â she admitted after a moment, eyes distant. âThatâs the thing. I know their names. I remember how my mother smelled, lavender and ash. And my father had a deep voice that used to hum when he held me. But itâs all⊠fragments. Nothing whole.â She shook her head, frustrated. âI was only five when they died. But it feels like someone carved those memories out of me.â Hongjoong stopped beside her, hands folded behind his back. His expression was unreadable now, gaze turned out toward the distant hills beyond the gardens. âHave you ever considered,â he said carefully, âthat it wasnât time that took your memories from you?â Y/N blinked. âWhat do you mean?â
âSometimes, grief buries things. But other timesâŠâ He looked back at her, the wind stirring his hair. âOther forces can interfere. Especially when it comes to those born near magic.â A chill moved down her spine, but she swallowed it quickly. âIâm not magical.â
âNo,â Hongjoong said softly. âYou were raised human.â A beat passed between them as Y/N looked like she wanted to speak, but didnât. Hongjoong let her have the silence. Then, she exhaled and turned away, brushing her fingertips against a cluster of autumn roses in full bloom. âIâve stopped wondering about it,â she murmured. âWhatever I lost⊠maybe I wasnât meant to remember.â Hongjoongâs jaw clenched, just slightly. He didnât agree. But he didnât argue either. Instead, he simply said, âSometimes the past finds us, whether weâre ready or not.â
Somewhere deeper in the Autumn Court, away from the golden paths and blooming gardens, a chill drifted through the stone corridors of the outer wing. It was quieter here, emptier. The air smelled faintly of magic left to rot,old spells etched into the walls and long since forgotten. Drusilla was leaning against a tall archway, arms crossed, her lips still curled with irritation. The silk of her gown was slightly wrinkled from the spellcasting the night before, and her kohl lined eyes narrowed as she heard footsteps approach. âTook you long enough,â she snapped without turning.
Tidus came into view, wearing the same smug expression he always wore when something had gone exactly as he wanted. âSister,â he drawled. She rolled her eyes. âI did what you told me to. Spelled the girl. Got her writhing in the lap of the Winter Courtâs favorite brat. And now Hongjoong will probably banish me from ever setting foot here again.â Tidus tsked. âPlease. You hate the Autumn Court.â
âI hate the food,â she muttered. âAnd the flowers. And the smug looks everyone gives me like Iâm still the problem.â Tidus stepped closer, head tilting. âYou are still the problem.â Drusilla gave him a dead eyed stare. âDo you want me to gut you?â He grinned. âNot today.â She sighed, arms dropping to her sides. âSo what now? Your plan was to get Yunho pissed off by having his little pet squirm all over Mingi? Mission accomplished. He looked ready to kill.â
âAnd yet,â Tidus said smoothly, âhe didnât. Not him. Not Mingi. Not ever Mingi it seems.â Drusilla narrowed her eyes. âYour point?â Tidus leaned in just enough that his voice dropped to something far more dangerous. âMy point is, you proved my theory right.â She arched a brow, suspicious now. âAnd what theory is that?â A smile spread across her brotherâs face, cold, slow, and far too pleased with itself. âThat perhaps,â he said, âI can use that girl after all.â
Drusilla blinked once, then frowned. âUse her how?â But Tidus was already turning, the long black hem of his coat whispering behind him as he disappeared back down the corridor, his answer echoing faintly behind him. âLetâs just say⊠if sheâs a weakness, I plan to make her everyoneâs.â
Y/N walked slowly, fingers brushing the edges of the ivy trailing along the garden wall. The air was crisper in this part of the grounds, the leaves tinged with gold and burnished red, whispering above her like they knew too much. She needed the space. Needed a few moments of peace after talking to Hongjoong, his questions lingering about her past, her parents, and the memories she couldnât seem to grasp no matter how hard she tried.
She hadnât even noticed how far sheâd wandered until she turned a corner and nearly ran into someone. âShitâŠâ she stumbled back half a step before freezing. Yunho stood in the path, dressed in a dark navy tunic that made the gold at his throat glint like starlight. His eyes widened when he saw her, that instinctive tension sliding through his frame like he wasnât sure whether to step forward or not. And just behind him, Mingi. Y/Nâs breath caught, chest tightening. She hadnât seen him sinceâŠ. Since the spell. Since sheâd been laid out on a table with her thighs spread and his mouth on her like heâd been starved for centuries.
Mingi looked away the moment their eyes met. âDidnât mean to startle you,â Yunho said, voice low and careful. Y/N swallowed, nodding once. âItâs fine. I was just⊠walking.â Silence settled between the three of them. Heavy. Unspoken. Mingi still hadnât looked at her. His jaw was set, brows drawn low. He looked like he hadnât slept, his usual boldness and charm dulled at the edges. Y/Nâs heart hammered as she stole a glance at him, only to find him clenching his hands at his sides, his glacier gaze glued to a random point over her shoulder.
Right. Because the last time theyâd looked at each other, it hadnât been with clarity. It had been hunger, magic, sweat slick skin, and desperate mouths. Her cheeks burned at the memory, and Mingi shifted like he could feel it too as Yunhoâs eyes flicked between them. âSo,â he said lightly, trying to break the silence, âyouâre up early.â
âI had breakfast,â Y/N murmured. âHongjoong wanted to see me.â Yunho nodded. âRight.â She didnât say anything else. Neither did Mingi. And for once, Yunho didnât press. He just stepped to the side, giving her the path. âDo you want to walk with us?â Y/N hesitated, then gave him a small, polite smile. âI think Iâll head back to my room for a bit orâŠ. see what mischief Wooyoung is up to.â
Yunho nodded, but didnât look away. Mingi stayed silent, unmoving, his eyes now cast toward the ground as she turned, the soft rustle of her skirt brushing her ankles as she walked past. None of them said anything else. But Mingi finally looked up, just in time to catch the barest flick of her hair before she disappeared down the path, and the memory of her skin beneath his hands burned hotter than ever. The moment she vanished from view, Mingi exhaled like heâd been holding his breath for hours. His hand came up to rake through his hair, tugging at the silver blue strands before he let out a low, frustrated groan. âI canât do this.â
Yunho glanced at him, one brow arching. âCanât do what?â
âThis,â Mingi snapped, gesturing vaguely in the direction Y/N had gone, pacing back a few steps before turning again. âPretending everythingâs fine. That last night didnât happen. That I didnâtâŠ. fuck, Yunho⊠Iâve seen her naked. Iâve had my mouth on her. I canât unsee that. I canât even look at her without remembering how she tasted.â
âMingi,â Yunho said carefully, âit wasnât realâŠâ
âI know that!â he barked, spinning to face him. âI know it was a spell, I know she wasnât in her right mind, I wasnât either⊠but it doesnât change what happened. Or what I felt.â Yunhoâs jaw clenched as Mingiâs eyes flicked up to the sky, lips parting, breath coming faster. His hands trembled at his sides, frost capping his fingertips and then he growled, low and animal, vibrating with the need to escape. âI need to run.â
âMingiâŠ.â Before Yunho could reach for him, Mingi was already shifting. His body blurred, limbs contorting in a burst of pale light and gold heat. In the space of a breath, his clothes fell to the ground and a massive wolf stood in his place, snow white fur bristling, claws digging into the dirt. Yunho took a step back as Mingiâs eyes locked with his, full of turmoil and unspoken pain. Then the wolf turned and bolted into the trees, disappearing into the dense brush with a crashing of leaves and a howl that echoed through the Autumn Court grounds.
Yunho stood still for a long moment. Then quietly, with a sigh more tired than anything else, he bent down and picked up Mingiâs shirt from where they lay crumpled on the path. âYeah,â he muttered. âI figured that might happen.â
Y/N wasnât trying to eavesdrop. She just wanted to clear her head. But as she turned down the ivy wrapped corridor that curved near the eastern wing of the Autumn Courtâs guest quarters, she heard voices. One sharp and icy. One low and clearly uncomfortable. âI told you,â the younger voice was saying, âmy brother didnât tell me anything.â Y/N slowed, her brow furrowing. That was Gunho. And the other voice, the one dripping with condescension, she recognized instantly. Drusilla.
âI think youâre lying,â Drusilla purred, voice silk and poison. âYou flinch every time I say her name. Y/N. Your brotherâs little⊠mistake.â
âSheâs not a mistake,â Gunho said sharply and Y/Nâs heart jumped. She stepped closer, just enough to peek around the hedge wall. Gunho stood rigid, fists clenched at his sides, his jaw set tight in a way that looked too mature for someone so young. Drusilla was inches from him, circling like a vulture with too much time and too little restraint. âOh, sweet boy,â she cooed. âYouâre so eager to protect her. Almost like she isnât beneath our kind.â
Gunho visibly recoiled, but didnât answer. That was enough. Y/N stepped out into view. âEverything okay here?â Drusilla didnât flinch. She turned slowly, her lips curling as her gaze swept over Y/N, now fully dressed, composed, her expression calm but sharp. Gunho exhaled, relief breaking through the tension in his shoulders. âY/N,â he greeted, moving toward her. âI was justâŠ.â
âI heard,â she said softly. Her eyes didnât leave Drusilla. âDidnât sound like a friendly chat.â Drusilla arched one pale brow. âI was merely having a conversation with the prince. He seemed so tense, I thought Iâd help loosen him up.â Y/Nâs jaw ticked. âYeah? He didnât look very relaxed.â Gunho shifted closer to her, and she instinctively leaned just enough to put herself between him and Drusilla who chuckled. âYouâre awfully protective, considering you barely know him.â
âI know enough,â Y/N replied evenly. âAnd I know when someone doesnât want to be bothered.â A long silence stretched between them. Then Drusilla offered a smile that didnât quite reach her eyes. âYou humans are always so emotional. Itâs adorable.â With a slow turn of her gown, she slipped past them, her perfume lingering like smoke and thorns.
Gunho exhaled again, rubbing the back of his neck. âThanks,â he muttered. âShe cornered me. Started asking about you. About Yunho. I didnât know what to say.â Y/N looked up at him, he was nearly as tall as his older brother, concern softening her voice. âDid she hurt you?â
âNo,â he said quickly. âJust creeped me out. Always has. I donât think she likes that Yunho saved you.â
âShe made that pretty clear last night,â Y/N muttered as the two began walking again, quieter now, but alert. âI think sheâs working with someone,â Gunho said lowly. âShe said something about Tidus. Then shut up when she realized I heard her.â Y/Nâs stomach twisted. âTidusâŠ?â Gunho nodded. âI think somethingâs going on. And I donât think itâs about you being human.â Y/N didnât answer right away. She wasnât sure she could. Not when her pulse was already quickening, her thoughts tangled, and her gut screaming that this, whatever this was, was bigger than she could see.
The Autumn Court gardens stretched wide around them, the sky overhead painted in dusky pinks and fading violets, the kind of sky that made everything feel a little softer. Warm amber lanterns flickered to life along the path, strung from low, hanging branches, casting golden glows over ivy covered trellises and tall hedges. The stone underfoot was uneven in places, mossy and old, like the garden had grown up with secrets of its own. Y/N and Gunho walked in silence for a moment, their footsteps muted by fallen leaves. The encounter with Drusilla still lingered at the edges of her mind, but she didnât want to press him. Not yet.
It was Gunho who broke the quiet. âYou probably think Iâm pathetic,â he muttered, kicking at a loose stone. âNeeding to be rescued like that.â Y/N glanced over. âNo,â she said simply. âI think youâre young. And sheâs terrifying cunt.â That got a small huff of a laugh from him. Not quite a smile, but close. âStill,â he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, âI shouldâve handled it better. Iâm not a kid anymore.â
âNo,â she agreed. âBut you also shouldnât have to deal with people like her alone.â Gunho looked at her sidelong, something unreadable flickering in his expression as they kept walking. The path curved gently, leading them toward the quieter, less traveled side of the garden. Fireflies had begun to blink to life, weaving lazily through the air like floating embers as Y/N took a breath. âIs this your first time leaving the Night Court?â
Gunho nodded. âYeah.â
She blinked. âEver?â
âWell⊠not ever,â he admitted. âI went to the Winter Court once. Years ago. But that was beforeâŠâ His voice trailed off and Y/N slowed a little, giving him space. âBefore my mom died,â he said, more quietly this time. âAfter that, Alec⊠our fatherâŠ. he stopped letting me go anywhere. Yunho, he⊠he gets away with things. Leaving for long stretches. Vanishing into the mortal world. The court says itâs because heâs the heir and needs to understand the realms, but really?â Gunho shook his head. âItâs because Alec doesnât bother controlling him anymore. Not after their fights got so bad.â
âAnd you?â Y/N asked gently and Gunho gave a hollow laugh. âIâm the younger son. Not important enough to be free, but too valuable to be discarded.â Y/Nâs chest ached at that. âComing here with YunhoâŠâ he went on, his gaze drifting up to the trees, âitâs the first time Iâve seen the sky outside the Night Court in⊠I donât even know how long. The stars are different here.â
âThey are,â she said softly. âThe air feels different, too.â They stopped near a small stone bench tucked beneath an overgrown archway, the lantern above them casting soft light over the leaves and Gunhoâs shadowed face. He sat down with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as Y/N sat beside him. âDo you miss her? Your mom?â
âEvery day,â he whispered. âShe used to sing to me in the garden at night. Taught me how to read by candlelight when Alec said it was a waste of time. She was⊠everything.â Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. âI donât remember mine,â she admitted. âJust⊠flickers. A laugh. A warm hand. Thatâs all. I was very young when I lost her.â Gunho looked over at her, his brows drawing in. âThat doesnât seem right.â
âNo,â she murmured. âIt doesnât.â The silence that followed wasnât awkward. It was heavy, but shared. And when a soft wind rustled the hedges nearby and the moon crested the garden wall, Y/N felt it again, that strange sense that everything was about to change.
Mingi returned late, just after the moon rose. The run had helped. Kind of. His thoughts were still a mess, tangled between embarrassment, magic, and the very real memory of Y/Nâs skin against his under that spell, but at least the wind had burned through the worst of it. Shifting back near the tree line behind the stables, Mingi shook out his hair and sighed. As usual, he hadnât thought to ever have spare clothes. Still naked, he darted low between hedges, trees, and stone archways, moving like a shadow through the edges of the Autumn Court. He was just about to sneak inside when he caught sight of her.
Y/N. Sitting cross legged on a blanket by the lake, just past the gardens. The lanters caught her hair and wrapped her in molten light. She was reading, brows furrowed in quiet concentration as her thumb ran the edge of a page. Mingi froze behind a nearby tree, his heart skipping stupidly. She looked⊠calm. Too calm. He squinted, trying to make out the book. English. Of course. Seonghwa mustâve dug through one of the guest libraries and picked something she could actually read.
She turned a page slowly, lips pursed in thought, and Mingi took a cautious step backâŠ. a twig cracked beneath his heel and Y/N looked up. Their eyes met and Mingi froze mid step. Naked. Holding nothing but a leaf and whatever dignity he had left. âHi,â she said, blinking. He winced. âHey.â She stared at him for a beat before very calmly closing her book. âI take it you went for a run, was it helpful?â
âThat depends,â he muttered, glancing down. âIs the lake deep enough to drown in right now?â Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. âNot unless you really commit.â Mingi groaned, dragging a hand down his face. âI didnât mean to run off like that.â
âItâs fine,â she said, standing. âWe were enchanted. It wasnât your fault.â
âStill,â he muttered, shifting awkwardly behind a tree trunk, âI shouldâve handled it better. Or at least remembered to stash pants.â That made her laugh. Really laugh. The sound was unexpected and beautiful and had his heart doing something dumb in response as she grabbed the extra shawl from her blanket and walked over, eyes on the horizon as she offered it to him without comment. He took it, cheeks pink. âThanks.â
âYouâre welcome. You can return it when youâre wearing more than a leaf.â That got a choked laugh out of him. âYouâre never gonna let me live this down, are you?â
âNot a chance.â
And for a moment, just a moment, the tension cracked, replaced by something softer, something that almost felt like the beginning of trust again.
The air was crisp the next morning, silver fog curling along the edges of the Autumn Court like smoke that refused to burn out. It clung to the stone walkways and rust colored trees as the castleâs staff bustled about with carriages, enchanted trunks, and fae glass wardrobes packed to bursting. Final preparations were underway for the journey back to the Night Court. The Solstice Festival was over. And Moon City was calling them home.
Y/N stood near one of the long, vine wrapped arches of the courtyard, her eyes following a trail of fae lanterns being carefully gathered by servants dressed in orange and gold. The lake from yesterday shimmered in the distance, but its tranquility felt like a ghost now. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, the knit sleeves of her tunic still damp with morning dew. Just behind her, San laughed as he charmed a low flying bird out of a tree. He was already dressed for travel in sun gold leathers and a green velvet cloak pinned with the Summer Court sigil. Even when he wasnât trying, he looked like a storybook prince.
âCome walk with me.â
Y/N turned to find Hongjoong beside her, dressed in rich bronze robes lined with black fur, his hair swept back with a golden pin shaped like an autumn leaf. There was something serious in his eyes. Not cold. Just⊠heavy. They moved through the gardens in silence, passing blooming moonflowers and marble sculptures half covered in ivy, until they reached the secluded arbor near the bloodrose hedge. Y/N hesitated. It felt like a place for secrets. Hongjoong didnât sit. He stood with one hand lightly resting on the back of the stone bench. âYou donât remember anything from before your sixth year, do you?â
She froze, slowly shaking her head. âNo. Just vague flashes. ShadowsâŠ.â
âI think your memories were taken. Or hidden. Iâve suspected itâŠ. after watching you these past few daysâŠâ Hongjoong paused. âI think Iâm sure of it.â Y/Nâs hands curled into the folds of her sleeves. âThen how do I get them back?â
âThereâs only one fae I know of,â he said carefully. âOne who might be able to retrieve memories that have been locked away.â
âWho?â
âHis name is Yeosang.â
The name sparked something strange in her chest, not recognition, but unease. Like her soul took a half step back in surprise. She glanced at Hongjoong. âWhere is he?â He hesitated. âLocked away.â
âWhat?â
âAfter Yunhoâs mother was murdered,â he said, voice darkening, âKing Alec accused Yeosang of betrayal. Claimed he saw it coming but let it happen. That he knew who did itâŠ. and stayed silent.â
âNo.â Hongjoongâs voice was like steel now. âYeosang was her trusted advisor. Her closest friend. I knew him. He loved her.â
âThen why would AlecâŠ.â
âBecause power needs no reason. Only opportunity.â
The wind stirred, ruffling her hair, brushing her cheek like fingers from a memory she couldnât place. âHeâs being held in the mountains beyond the Sable Marshes,â Hongjoong said quietly. âA warded estate built into the cliffs. No one but someone of Alecâs bloodline can cross the threshold.â Y/Nâs stomach twisted. âYou mean Yunho.â Hongjoong nodded once. âIf Yeosang is still alive⊠heâs the only one who might be able to give you back what was stolen.â
The carriages rolled out just after the ninth bell, wheels crunching over gravel laced with frost, their banners fluttering behind them like torn ribbons of dusk and fire. The Autumn Court faded in the distance, its golden spires swallowed by the tangled woods that marked the border. The journey back to Moon City would take a day and a half by enchanted carriage, their convoy winding through frost bitten forests, along cliffside passes, and eventually into the twilight touched lands of the Night Court.
Y/N sat in the third carriage, the windows etched with delicate star patterns that shifted with the light. Across from her, San lounged like heâd done this a hundred times before, elbow propped against the velvet cushion, legs stretched out, a crooked half smile playing on his lips as he watched the trees flash by. âYou know,â he said after a long beat of silence, âI didnât really get to talk to you much back at the Autumn Court.â
Y/N arched a brow. âYou mean between the enchanted wine and the cursed spell?â He laughed. âExactly. The usual party chaos.â She smiled despite herself. âYou always like that much trouble?â
âOnly on special occasions.â San leaned his head against the cushioned wall of the carriage. âBut I meant it. We barely spoke. Iâm curious.â
âAbout what?â
âYou.â His gaze flicked to hers. âYouâre⊠different.â
Y/N tilted her head. âBecause Iâm human?â
âNo.â He frowned. âI donât actually think you are.â The words dropped like a pebble into a still pond, rippling out slowly. She didnât respond. Not yet as San let the moment pass, his voice softer when he asked, âSo, how long have you known Wooyoung?â
Y/N blinked. âSince Moon City. Yunho assigned him to help me. Heâs was the firsr fae to not treat me like something strange.â San smiled faintly, gaze distant. âThat sounds like him.â There was a beat of silence for a moment. âAre you twoâŠâ she asked slowly. âTogether?â Sanâs eyes snapped to hers, caught off guard. âWhat?â
âIâm only asking because,â she hesitated, âhe sort of⊠loves you, he might of let that slip.â The easy amusement on Sanâs face faltered, and for the first time since she met him, he looked⊠conflicted. His fingers curled slightly on his knee. âWooyoung and I⊠itâs complicated.â
âThatâs not a no,â Y/N murmured and he sighed, glancing out the window. âHeâs⊠one of my favorite people in this world. He knows me better than anyone. Weâve been close for years.â Y/N stayed quiet. âIâm the heir of the Summer Court,â he said finally, voice low and edged with something sharp. âMy parents expect me to wed a woman. Start a line. Produce heirs of my own.â
Y/Nâs chest tightened. âEven if thatâs not who you want?â San didnât answer right away. âIâm supposed to return home next season,â he said instead. âTake up more responsibility. Appearances. Alliances. Courtship offers.â He smiled without warmth. âEveryoneâs so excited to see what lucky girl ends up wearing the crown next to me.â
âThatâs awful.â
âThatâs fae politics.â
Y/Nâs brows furrowed, heart pulling a little tighter in her chest. âWhat does Wooyoung say about all that?â Sanâs jaw ticked. âHe says he doesnât care.â She didnât believe that for a second. Neither did he. The silence stretched out between them again. The only sound was the soft creak of the carriage, the rustle of wind through the trees, and the faint call of a nightbird somewhere in the branches overhead. âIâm sorry,â she said quietly and Sanâs eyes flicked to her. âFor what?â
âI donât know,â she murmured. âThat it has to be like this.â He smiled again, gentler this time, sadder. âSo am I.â
The carriages pulled off the winding road near dusk, settling into a wide clearing surrounded by towering shadow pines and thick underbrush. An old stone firepit sat at the center weathered and moss bitten, likely used by traveling fae for centuries. The air was cooler now, the kind that clung to the back of your neck and curled into your bones. Y/N stepped out stiffly, stretching her arms above her head. San was already leaning against a tree with a fig in his hand, nodding toward the lake just beyond the clearing.
She gave a soft âthanksâ and headed in that direction, needing the cold splash of water on her skin to shake the restlessness out of her spine. Behind her, she could feel their eyes. Drusilla and Tidus hadnât spoken much since they left the Autumn Court, but their presence sat heavy in the air. Drusilla in particular wore that same smile, tight and unreadable, every time their eyes met. And Tidus just watched her like he was waiting for something. Waiting for her to mess up. She hated that she noticed.
Y/N crouched by the edge of the lake, dipping her fingers into the water. It was icy cold, pure and untouched, reflecting the pale orange pink haze of the sunset through the trees. She cupped some in her hands and splashed it onto her face, dragging her wet palms down her cheeks and over her mouth, grounding herself. âI wouldnât let her touch you again.â The voice behind her made her flinch. Low. Familiar. Steady. Yunho.
He stood a few paces back, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his eyes, dark and burning in the fading light, were fixed on her. On her skin. Her posture. Her discomfort. She didnât move. âI mean it,â he said, softer now, stepping closer. âDrusilla. She wonât come near you.â Y/N glanced at him over her shoulder. âYou canât exactly stop her.â
Yunho tilted his head slightly, lips curving in a way that didnât quite reach amusement. âI can try. And Tidus wonât get far either. Not if Iâm breathing.â She stared at him, breath catching faintly. He wasnât smiling. Not really. There was something too serious in his voice, low and protective, with a quiet fury simmering just beneath the surface. It wasnât performative, wasnât for show. Yunho meant every word.
âYouâre not bound to protect me,â she said, her voice barely above a whisper. âI know,â Yunho replied. âBut I want to.â She blinked, startled by the honesty as he walked to the waterâs edge and crouched beside her. âI was⊠careless. At the festival.â
âYou stopped it.â
âNot soon enough.â
The lake rippled around their reflections, the two of them close now, knees nearly brushing. His scent, warm and evergreen, threaded with something darker, wrapped around her, grounding and overwhelming all at once. She watched the shadows dance across the surface of the water. âIâm not used to people choosing to protect me,â she admitted after a pause. âNot unless they want something in return other than Jongho.â
Yunho didnât look away. âI donât want anything from you.â Liar. It wasnât that he meant to lie. But the heat in his gaze gave him away. That hunger. That ache. It wasnât lust exactly, though that was there, simmering in the way his eyes dropped to her mouth for just a second too long. It was deeper. Older. Like he recognized something in her he hadnât realized heâd been searching for.
She turned her head, eyes fixed on the fading horizon, voice just above the breeze. âI donât know who I am.â He didnât ask what she meant. Didnât press. âThen let me help you figure it out.â And in that moment, under the weight of dusk and water and something that crackled between them, she almost said yes. She kept her gaze on the lake, on the way the light fractured across its surface like shards of glass. Her voice, when it came, was cautious, soft but deliberate, as if saying it aloud made it more real. âHongjoong says he thinks⊠something is blocking my memories. From before my parents died.â
Yunho stilled beside her as she wet her lips, fingers trailing over the cold water. âThat someone mightâve taken them. Or hid them. He said thereâs only one fae he knows who might be able to bring them back.â Silence stretched, heavy as Y/N looked at him. âDo you know who?â Yunhoâs jaw clenched so tight it ticked. âYeosang.â
She blinked. âYou know him?â
âI did,â Yunho said flatly, voice hardening around the edges. âHe was a Dreamweaver. The most gifted one in the Night Court. Maybe the entire realm.â
âWas?â She pressed even though she already knew the answer from Hongjoong. Yunhoâs hand curled into a fist in the fabric of his sleeve. âHe was locked away,â he said. âBy my father. After my mother was killed.â Y/N straightened, brows furrowing. âWhy?â
âBecause Yeosang tried to stop him,â Yunho said quietly. âHe tried to uncover the truth about what happened that night. Alec didnât like what he found.â The shadows around them seemed to shift, curling like smoke as Yunho stood slowly, eyes locked on the treeline now, his shoulders rigid. âI know where he is,â Y/N said, glancing at him. âHongjoong told me. The mountains beyond the Sable Marshes. A warded estate built into the cliffs.â Zzz She swallowed. âNo one but someone of Alecâs bloodline can cross the threshold.â
Yunho finally looked at her. The wind lifted strands of his hair, and for a moment, the weight of who he was, who he was born to be, pressed into the space between them like gravity. âI have his blood,â he said quietly. âThatâs why Hongjoong told you.â Y/N didnât deny it. âI can get us in,â he added, but his voice had lost its conviction. âBut if I go⊠if I step foot across that threshold, my father will know.â
âWill he stop you?â
Yunho let out a dry, humorless breath. âHeâll try.â
She stared at him. âWould you still go?â
Yunhoâs answer came without hesitation. âFor you?â His eyes met hers, burning with something ancient. âWeâll see.â
Night settled slowly over the camp like a shawl of silk and shadow. The air had cooled considerably since sunset, the mist from the lake beginning to curl along the edges of the trees. A small fire crackled in the center of their clearing, casting soft orange light over the bedrolls and cloaks tossed haphazardly across the grass. Y/N sat on a mossy log, watching the flickering flames. Across from her, Gunho was already curled beneath his blanket, limbs tangled and peaceful, chest rising with the steady rhythm of deep sleep. He hadnât even stirred when Mingi dropped his satchel too close to his head.
She smiled faintly. He was still just a kid in fae age. A rustle drew her attention, Wooyoung and San slipping into the woods. Not speaking, just moving in tandem, like they always did. Sanâs broad shoulders were rigid beneath his deep green cloak, but Wooyoungâs hands moved as he spoke, animated and wild as ever. Whatever the topic was, San was clearly pretending not to care, and failing spectacularly. Y/N looked away, heart tightening. She didnât see Drusilla. Or Tidus. Which⊠wasnât exactly comforting.
But what caught her eye next was Yunho, walking toward the edge of the trees, hands in the pockets of his dark traveling cloak. And trailing behind him was Mingi, rubbing the back of his neck, yawning like heâd just woken up despite being the last one to actually lie down. Y/N stayed quiet as the two disappeared beyond the first row of trees. She waited a beat. Then rose.
âYou couldnât sleep either?â Mingi asked, voice low. âNo.â Yunhoâs hands tightened. âI needed to tell you something.â Mingi arched a brow. âYou look like youâre about to confess to murder.â Yunho gave him a look, then exhaled. âHongjoong told Y/N something before we left the Autumn Court. Something important.â Mingi sobered at the shift in his voice. âGo on.â
âHe thinks her memories⊠ones from before her parents were killed⊠mightâve been blocked. Tampered with.â He swallowed. âHe said thereâs only one fae who might be able to bring them back.â
âYeosang,â Mingi said flatly, already ahead of him and Yunho nodded making Mingi snort, pushing off the tree. âYou break Yeosang out of the Marsh and your father will banish you to the mortal realm.â
âHe might try.â
âOh, I know heâd try,â Mingi muttered. âHeâll dust off the execution staff just for you. Etch your name on a tree. Maybe even throw a party.â
Yunho didnât smile as Mingi blinked, then looked at him fully. âWait⊠youâre seriously considering this?â Yunho didnât answer at first. But the silence was enough. âFuck,â Mingi muttered. âYouâre already planning it.â
âIf itâs the only way to get her answers,â Yunho said, voice like stone, âthen yes.â Mingi dragged a hand down his face. âGods. I donât know if I should kiss you or knock you out before you go full martyr.â Yunho looked up then, gaze calm but cutting. âWould you help me?â Mingiâs laugh was short. âIâd lead the damn charge. You know that.â He looked down at his boots. âBut weâll need a lot for a prison built by Alec. Weâll need an entire strategy, and at least one backup plan that doesnât end with your wings on a pike.â
âThey donât know I have wings,â Yunho said quietly. Mingi gave him a look. âYunhoâŠâ
âIâm just saying.â
âWell donât say it like itâs an ace in your sleeve. Your father made that prison blood sealed. You cross that threshold, heâll feel it.â
Yunhoâs voice was soft, but unshakable. âThen let him.â
The morning light broke through the canopy in fractured gold, soft and thin like lace stretched across the forest floor. Dew clung to leaves and cloaks, and birdsong drifted lazily overhead as the group packed up camp in sleepy silence. They were on the move again before the sun was fully overhead. San rode ahead now, speaking quietly with Wooyoung, who for once didnât seem to be cracking jokes. Gunho was half asleep on his mare, draped over the saddle like a sack of flour. Drusilla and Tidus followed near the rear, eerily silent, as usual.
Y/N lingered near her own horse she was given after insisting she was tired of the carriage, adjusting the cinch strap that didnât actually need adjusting, trying to make it seem like she knew exactly what she was doing, remembering how Mingi had shown her before. Sheâd been trying, gods, she had been trying, to push the spell out of her mind. To forget the way Mingi had felt under her hands, the way his voice had sounded when he groaned her name under magicâs influence. But forgetting wasnât easy when Mingi kept riding just a few paces ahead, back straight, the line of his shoulders annoyingly perfect beneath his dark cloak. He looked unbothered. As if the memory didnât gnaw at him the same way it did her.
Y/N took a breath. Then crossed the space between them before she could second guess herself. âMingi.â He glanced over his shoulder, already pausing his horse as she stopped just beside him, trying not to fidget. âCan I ride with you?â
âWhat?â
She shifted. âJust⊠like before. You know. When you taught me. Besides⊠I donât exactly know what Iâm doing with this horse.â His gaze flicked to her mouth for a second too long. His fingers tensed on the reins. It took him a moment, but he finally nodded. âYeah,â he murmured. âYeah, alright.â
He reached down, offering his hand, and Y/N slid off her own horse, one of the guards grabbing it as she stepped up, letting Mingi pull her onto the saddle behind him. Her arms slipped around his middle automatically, her chest pressing to his back in a way that made both of them hold their breath for a heartbeat too long. The horse shifted beneath them as Mingi steadied them both with one hand, the other guiding the reins. âComfortable?â he asked, voice hoarse.
She nodded. âYeah.â The trees passed in a slow blur as they rode, the quiet between them thick but not unpleasant. It was the kind of silence that held unsaid things, not avoidance, but weight. Her chin rested lightly against his shoulder, and she let her eyes close for a moment, feeling the steady rhythm of the horse beneath them, the warmth of his body against hers despite his frost bloodline. After several minutes, Mingi finally spoke, his voice low and rough. âY/NâŠâ
She looked up, heart catching. But he just shook his head, jaw working. âForget it.â She didnât press. Not yet. The rhythmic clop of hooves was the only sound between them for a while. The wind moved through the trees in low sighs, the sun dappling gold across the trail as they rode deeper into the woods. Y/Nâs arms stayed loose around Mingiâs waist, but her thoughts were anything but relaxed. Every breath she took was thick with unspoken memories, the phantom of his mouth on her skin still haunting her even in daylight. He hadnât said anything more.
So she did. âForget it,â she said softly, her cheek brushing his shoulder as the words left her. âThe spell. Drusillaâs little enchantment. We should just⊠forget it ever happened.â Mingi didnât say a word as her voice wavered, but she kept going. âBesides⊠I think we were starting to become friends. Before all that. Iâd like to get back to that.â Still nothing. Just the creak of the saddle, the quiet breath he let out that sounded more like a sigh than anything else.
Then, finally, his voice, quiet, nearly lost to the wind. âFriends.â She couldnât see his face, but she could feel the tension in his body, in the way his grip on the reins subtly tightened. âYeah,â she said, trying to smile even though he couldnât see it. âFriends.â Mingi didnât respond again. But his hand, just briefly, shifted to rest over hers where it was curled around his middle. It was only a second. Maybe two. Then it was gone. And they kept riding.
The gates of the Moon City loomed on the horizon just as the first stars began to pierce the twilight. Tall and carved from obsidian stone, they shimmered faintly with warding magic, silver sigils glowing faintly against the dark surface. The skyline of the Night Court stretched behind them, spires like needles of glass and shadow, the capital glittering like a constellation fallen to earth. Y/N felt it before they passed through the gate. That hum beneath her skin. That pull. Like something ancient and unspoken lived in the bones of this place, and maybe in hers too.
They passed through under escort, and the guards, clad in black armor trimmed with starlight, barely spared her a glance this time. But at the top of the steps leading to the palace, he was waiting. King Alec. Cloaked in midnight and menace, the High Lord of the Night Court stood like the night itself had shaped him. Eyes sharp, mouth carved in a permanent sneer of contempt. Yunho dismounted first. Then Y/N with the help of Ming, though she kept her chin lifted even as her heart beat louder in her ears.
Alecâs gaze flicked down to her, sharp as a blade. His lip curled. âYou brought it back,â he said flatly, addressing Yunho like she wasnât standing right there. Yunhoâs jaw tensed. âShe belongs here now.â Alec scoffed. âYou mean your little pet. Letâs hope she remembers how to behave.â Y/N bristled, but Yunho stepped subtly in front of her before she could speak. Alecâs eyes gleamed like he hoped she would say something reckless.
The King tilted his head. âThe masquerade is in three nights,â he said, voice curling like smoke. âI expect your⊠companion⊠to be on her best behavior. It would be a shame to ruin such a fine celebration with another scandal.â He said it like a threat and Yunho said nothing, but his shadows twitched in the corners of his vision as Alec turned to go, the court trailing behind him like a cloak of shadows.
Y/N stood still in the courtyard, trying to steady her breath as Mingi appeared back beside her, quiet. âWelcome home,â he said under his breath, voice dry. She didnât smile. Not this time.
The kitchens were warm and humming with quiet activity. Low morning light slipped through the high windows like silver honey, brushing over polished countertops, steaming kettles, and the scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke. Y/N sat at the long butcher block table in the center of the room, shoulders finally relaxed as Jocelyn bustled around, muttering affectionately about âthin as a willowâ and piling more honeyed bread and roasted fruit onto her plate. She hadnât realized how hungry she was until Jocelyn put that first slice in her hand and pointedly told her to eat.
Wooyoung lounged in the seat beside her, lazily peeling a blood orange with dramatic precision, pretending he wasnât glancing toward the door every few minutes. âHeâll be staying here a while,â Y/N said casually, biting into a piece of buttered toast as Wooyoung made a noise like a scoff. âHmm? Who?â She raised a brow. âOh,â he said, biting into a slice of orange. âYou mean San. Right. Yeah, noâŠ. I hadnât noticed.â
Jocelyn smacked him lightly with a spoon on the back of the head and he winced, grinning. âOw! That was aggressive!â
âThat was kindness,â Jocelyn huffed, already turning back to the hearth as the door creaked open just then, a breeze of cooler air trailing in as Yunho stepped into the kitchen. He was in casual dark riding clothes, boots dusted from travel, but even without the weight of armor or leathers, he still carried a quiet intensity that immediately drew eyes as his gaze found Y/N instantly. âThere you are,â he said, voice lighter than usual. âI was looking for you.â
Wooyoung made a small âoooohâ sound and was rewarded with another spoon thwap from Jocelyn as Yunho continued, unbothered. âI have some things I need to take care of in the city. Nothing urgent, but⊠thought maybe youâd want to come. You havenât really seen the Moon City yet, have you?â
Y/N blinked at him, surprised. She hadnât. The ride in had been tense, and most of her time had been spent inside the estateâs walls, either in the gardens with Gunho or drifting through the library trying not to think about the upcoming masquerade, or Yeosang, or the way Mingiâs arms had felt around her just days before. âIâŠâ She glanced at Jocelyn, then back at Yunho. âYeah. Iâd like that.â
Yunho nodded once, a faint glint of something like approval in his eyes. âMeet me at the stables in twenty minutes?â Wooyoung hummed as Yunho turned to go. The moment the door swung closed again behind him, Wooyoung leaned in, eyes dancing. âLook at you. Getting invited on moonlit dates like some storybook heroine.â
Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldnât help the way her cheeks warmed as she grabbed the rest of her bread, popped a slice of fruit in her mouth, and stood. âDonât wait up.â
The stables smelled of leather and pine, quiet save for the occasional stomp of a hoof or soft huff of breath. Yunho was already saddling his obsidian colored mare when Y/N arrived, the horse pawing the stone floor like it recognized her. He turned at the sound of her steps, giving her a small smile. âRight on time.â
âYou said twenty minutes,â she shrugged, running a hand along the horseâs sleek neck. âFigured you were serious.â
âIâm always serious.â He paused. âExcept when Iâm not.â That earned a laugh from her, quiet but real as Yunho mounted first, then offered his hand down. She placed her fingers in his without hesitation this time, letting him pull her up and settle her behind him, arms sliding instinctively around his waist as the horse moved forward.
They rode through the palace gates and down the winding path into the Moon City, and Y/Nâs eyes lifted, drawn immediately to the sky above. There was no sun, at least, not a real one. The sky shimmered with layers of dark violet and deep blue, and high above, a glowing orb mimicked daylight, soft and silvery, casting its magic made light over the city in waves. It was beautiful. But unnatural. And cold.
âWhy is it always night here?â she asked suddenly, voice brushing his ear over the breeze. âThe sunâs fake. The sky never changes. Why keep it like this?â Yunho didnât answer right away as they passed through the outer edge of the city, stars twinkling like lanterns hung from nothing, casting strange shadows over the silver roofs and blackstone streets. The people here moved like wraiths, elegant, otherworldly, dressed in rich velvets and glinting armor. All beneath an eternal twilight.
âIt wasnât always night,â Yunho said finally. His voice was quiet. âBefore my father took the throne, it changed like the rest of the realms. Sun, moon, seasons. Light.â He turned slightly to glance back at her. âBut Alec wanted control. Permanence. He said darkness kept people sharp. Kept them hungry. You canât grow soft when you never see the light.â Y/N frowned, fingers tightening slightly around his waist. âThatâs⊠grim.â
Yunho let out a dry, humorless laugh. âThatâs the Night Court.â They rode on in silence for a beat, the hooves echoing through cobbled streets, stars glinting on rooftops like snow. Then Yunho added, âBut I remember sunlight. I was a child, but I remember it. My mother used to sit by the garden fountain and tilt her face up to it. She used to say it felt like being kissed by the sky.â Y/N blinked. It was the most tender thing sheâd ever heard him say. âDo you miss it?â
He didnât answer for a moment but when he did, his voice was soft, longing. âEvery single day.â
The Moon City opened around them in layers, each more lavish and haunted than the last. Balconies made of obsidian glass, statues carved from moonstone, silk banners trailing in the magic made wind. But it wasnât the beauty that caught Y/Nâs attention. It was the way the people looked at her. Everywhere they rode, eyes followed. Fae in silver threaded robes paused to whisper behind ornate fans. Warriors leaned on their spears, tracking her with narrowed eyes. Courtiers smiled with poison tucked behind their teeth.
The girl bound to the prince. The human pet of the court. The thing that dared walk beside him like she belonged.
Yunho felt it too. She could tell by the way his jaw tightened, the way his hand slid to her waist as he helped her down from the horse just outside a narrow, ivy covered shop. âDonât look at them,â he murmured close to her ear. âYouâll only give them more to feed on.â She nodded, cheeks hot despite herself, and followed him through the arched wooden door as a soft bell rang overhead, her hands smoothing at her deep navy skirts.
The shop was small, quiet and sun dappled despite the false sky. Paintings lined the walls, hung between shelves of charcoal, ink pots, fine brushes, rolled parchment and hand bound sketchbooks. The scent of cedar and oil paints filled the air. Y/N blinked. âIs thisâŠâ Yunho gave a small smile. âAn art store, yes.â
She wandered a few steps inside, running her fingers lightly over a display of watercolor palettes shaped like pressed flower petals. âI didnât think this existed in the Night Court.â
âMost donât.â Yunho brushed past her toward the counter, nodding politely at the fae woman behind it. âBut Iâve been coming here since I was a kid.â Y/N turned toward him slowly, her voice quiet. âI saw your drawings that day. In your room. When I first got hereâŠâ Yunho glanced back at her, one brow raised. âHow long have you drawn?â she asked.
He looked down at his hands, flexing them once before resting them on the counter. âSince I was a child,â he said. âBefore swords. Before politics. Before everything.â There was a pause, then a softness in his voice once again. âI got it from my mother.â He didnât elaborate, but he didnât have to. She saw it then, the way his fingers lingered on the edge of a leather sketchbook, the way his gaze drifted to a display of fine charcoal sticks like they were made of something holy.
âYouâre really good,â she said gently. He didnât look at her. âShe was better. Drawing was the one thing we did together before she disappeared from the world.â Y/Nâs heart ached as she watched him, this fae prince who commanded shadows and darkness, now quietly tracing his past in the dust of an art store.
She moved beside him, their arms brushing. âCan I see more sometime?â He looked at her, startled by the request. Then, after a moment, he nodded. âIâll show you,â he said. âBut only if you draw something too.â A challenge. A smile. The hint of something that might one day become trust as outside, the city glimmered beneath its false sky. But in that quiet little shop, something real flickered to life.
âI donât show people this part of me,â Yunho said after a moment. âI donât think my father even knows this shop exists.â
âThen why bring me?â
âI donât know,â he admitted. âBut it felt right.â
She smiled, small, crooked. âYouâre full of surprises, Prince of Nightfall.â His mouth twitched. âThat sounds like something Mingi would say.â She laughed softly. âThen maybe heâs rubbing off on me.â A comfortable silence stretched, and Yunho plucked a small sketchbook from the shelf, then another and he handed one to her. âDraw something,â he said. âAnything. Iâll do the same.â
Her brows lifted. âYouâre challenging me?â
âNo,â he said, glancing at her sidelong. âIâm inviting you.â
The sketchbook stayed clutched in her hands as she trailed him. Yunho moved with purpose, weaving through the aisles of the quiet shop, fingers plucking items off the shelves like muscle memory. Charcoal sticks, fine tipped brushes, a few jars of shimmering blue ink that caught the light like starlight. Y/N followed, eyes flicking from his focused expression to the way his long fingers curled around each item with the ease of someone whoâd done this a hundred times.
âIs this your brooding prince ritual?â she asked lightly, watching him compare two different sets of pastels. âStock up on art supplies, go home, and sketch tragic poetry in the moonlight?â He glanced at her with a faint smirk. âOnly on Wednesdays.â She made a face. âUnbelievable. That means I missed it.â
âLucky for you,â he murmured, brushing past her toward the front. âThereâs always next week.â Y/N turned slowly, her fingers drifting over a shelf of hand bound journals. âSoâŠâ she started casually, âthis masquerade your father mentioned.â Yunho paused. Her tone was casual. But when he looked over, her eyes were locked on his, sharp with interest.
âWhat exactly is it?â she asked. âBesides another opportunity for him to call me your pet in public.â Yunhoâs jaw tightened briefly as he placed the inks on the counter before turning to face her fully. âItâs a political event,â he said finally. âAn annual one. Held at the palace. Every court is invited, though not all attend.â
âSounds exhausting.â
âIt is.â
She raised a brow. âAnd Iâm supposed to⊠behave?â
âThat was my fatherâs word,â Yunho muttered, voice laced with disdain.
âNot yours?â
âI donât think you need to be told how to behave, Y/N.â
She snorted as Yunhoâs lips twitched. The faintest shadow of a smile. But then he sobered. âThe masquerade is important. My father treats it as a display of power. Politics, negotiations, alliances. Masks mean you canât technically call out rank or bloodline, but everyone knows who everyone is anyway.â Y/N raised a brow. âSounds fake and pretentious.â
âIt is,â Yunho agreed. âBut also dangerous. The rules are looser that night. There are⊠games. Challenges. Sometimes duels. And the magic in the ballroom⊠it reacts to intent.â
She blinked. âReact how?â
Yunho hesitated. âYouâll see.â
That didnât sound comforting. She shifted, eyes narrowing. âIs that why he wants me on my best behavior? Because Iâm the wild card in his polished little deck?â Yunhoâs expression was unreadable. âYes,â he said finally. âAnd because if you slip up, if you say the wrong thing to the wrong person, heâll use it against you. Or worse⊠against me.â
Y/Nâs chest tightened. Not at the threat. But at the quiet way he said it. Like he wasnât worried about himself. Just her. She looked away, reaching for a small vial of ink, rolling it between her fingers. âThen maybe,â she said softly, âyou should keep me close.â
Yunho met her gaze. âI was already planning to.â He stepped out first, the little bell above the art shop door giving a halfhearted chime behind him. The warm scent of ink and parchment faded as they emerged into the glow of the Moon Cityâs enchanted lights, soft orbs floating just above street level, casting a pale silver wash over the cobblestones.
The market was beginning to stir, shops waking with slow magic. Lanterns blinked to life. Shopkeepers unlatched doors. Stalls creaked open like yawning mouths. Y/N lingered at his side, head swiveling as they walked. âItâs always night here,â she murmured, more to herself than him. âBut it doesnât feel⊠dead.â He glanced over. âThatâs the spell. The Night Court thrives in starlight.â
âEven your fake sun has a moonlit edge,â she said, eyes catching on the strange silver glow that washed over the buildings. âEverythingâs tinted with a little darkness.â He looked at her sidelong. âSo are we.â Y/N snorted. âPoetic.â
They continued down the street, the path narrowing slightly between curving balconies and walls made of smoky obsidian stone. She drifted a step away as a new stall caught her eye, less ornate than the others, simple wood and faded cloth stretched above itâs canopy. Trinkets hung in rows, wooden carvings, tiny figurines, painted stones. Y/N stopped and her breath caught.
There it was, nearly identical to the one sheâd seen back home. A delicate little figure carved from dark wood. Wings etched with almost imperceptible care, arms outstretched in flight. Her fingers hovered above it and Yunho noticed. âYou recognize it?â he asked, stepping closer. She nodded slowly. âThere was one just like this in the village. The day I crossed into the forest.â She picked it up gently, turning it in her hands. âItâs fae?â
âYes.â
She glanced over. âDo all fae have wings?â
Yunho hesitated. âA few.â
Y/N blinked. âJust a few?â
âWings are⊠old blood. Most donât have them anymore. Some shifters can grow them in battle. Some are born with them and never fly.â She looked down at the figure again. âSo theyâre rare.â
âRare,â he echoed, voice unreadable as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. âDo you have wings?â Yunho paused, a smile curling the corner of his mouth. âWouldnât you like to know.â She rolled her eyes, though it did nothing to hide her grin. âIs that a yes?â
âI didnât say that.â
âYou didnât say no.â
He shrugged, amused. âWhereâs the fun in spoiling the mystery?â Y/N turned back to the carving, pretending to inspect it, but her smile lingered. âYouâre so annoying.â
âAnd youâre nosy.â
âSomeone has to be,â she said sweetly, handing the figure to the vendor with a few silver coins from the pouch at her waist that Wooyoung had slipped her before she left. She glanced back at Yunho. âAnd if you do have wings⊠I want to see them one day.â He didnât answer. But the look he gave her was enough to make her heart thump.
They left the trinket stall with the wooden winged figure carefully wrapped and tucked into Y/Nâs pouch. The streets were fuller now, the market in full swing as scents mingled in the cool air, roasted nuts, warm honey, citrus, and something sweet and spiced that tugged at Y/Nâs attention. Yunho veered suddenly, grabbing her hand without warning and tugging her down a narrow side street. âWait⊠whatâŠâ
âCome on,â he said, throwing a look over his shoulder. âI want you to try something.â The alley opened into a small courtyard, tucked between taller buildings like a secret the Moon City kept for itself. A tiny stand stood there, lit by floating orbs and run by an elderly fae woman with wrinkled eyes and hands that moved like flowing ink. âTwo,â Yunho said with a smile that made her blink. It was softer than his usual grin, nostalgic, almost boyish as the vendor chuckled. âBack again, prince?â
âYou know I canât resist.â
She handed him two small wrapped pastries, steam curling from the folds of the paper. Y/N caught the scent immediately, caramelized sugar, cinnamon, and a faint floral undertone she couldnât place. Yunho handed her one and gestured for her to bite. Y/N raised a brow but took a cautious nibble. The outside was warm and flaky, dusted with a thin layer of sugar, but the inside, sweet stars, the inside melted on her tongue. Warm fig, honey, and some kind of spice that lit her mouth in the most comforting way and her eyes widened.
Yunho laughed. âTold you.â
âWhat is this?â she asked, nearly forgetting to swallow before going in for another bite. âMoon fig tart. My mother used to make them for me before festivals.â Her chewing slowed. Heâd said it so easily. No pain in his voice. Just memory. âI thought Iâd never get to taste them again,â Yunho added, softer now. âUntil I found this stand a few years ago. The closest to hers.â Y/N looked down at the little pastry in her hands, now half eaten. She held it like it was something fragile. Sacred. âThank you,â she said quietly.
Yunho didnât respond at first. Just watched her. Something in his gaze unreadable. âYouâve got sugar on your lip.â She looked up. âWhere?â
âRightâŠâ He reached out, brushing the pad of his thumb gently beneath her lower lip and her breath hitched. The moment stilled. The bustling city faded into a quiet hush around them as Yunhoâs thumb lingered for just a second too long. Then he pulled back and cleared his throat. âCome on,â he said, nodding back toward the main street. âStill a few more places I want to show you.â Y/N followed him, biting into the last of the tart and trying not to wonder what it wouldâve felt like if heâd kissed her instead.
They wandered further into the heart of the Moon City, the streets beginning to gleam with that strange ethereal silver cast that always made Y/N feel like she was dreaming with her eyes open. The fake sun overhead had started to fade, giving way to the soft violet sky that was unique to the Night Court, darkness touched with twilight, starless and waiting as Yunho led her down a quieter lane lined with boutiques carved into polished stone. No signs, no flashy displays. Just elegance. When he stopped in front of one, she noticed a delicate emblem carved into the black wood of the door, a crescent moon wrapped in roses. âWhat is this place?â she asked, craning her neck.
He pushed the door open, the soft chime of a bell greeting them. âSomewhere youâll want to remember.â The interior was warm and glowing, chandeliers hanging low and dresses floating like ghosts on display, gowns in deep crimson, silver threaded navy, sheer blacks with beads like constellations, soft velvets that shimmered like water. Y/Nâs breath caught in her throat. Before she could ask anything, a tall, stunning fae woman stepped out from behind a velvet curtain. Her hair was pinned up in intricate blonde twists, and her gown flowed like ink. She gave Yunho a smile full of secrets and mischief. âYour Highness. Back already?â she purred.
âI need to pick something up,â he said, stepping to Y/Nâs side. âBut while I do⊠Cassandra, could you help her find a gown for the masquerade?â
Y/N blinked. âWait. What?â
âYouâre attending, remember.â Yunho said simply. âYouâll need something appropriate.â She stared at him but he didnât flinch. Cassandraâs eyes lit up like she was in on a secret, already circling Y/N with the energy of someone who lived for transformation. âOh, sheâs going to be fun. Iâve been waiting for something different than all the glass doll aristocrats.â
Y/N looked helplessly back at Yunho, but he was already backing toward the door. âWait⊠where are you going?â she called after him. He just smiled, mischievous, smug, and yet somehow gentle all at once. âTrust her. Cassandra knows what sheâs doing. Iâll be back soon.â And with that, he disappeared out the door, leaving Y/N surrounded by silk, candlelight, and a fae tailor who looked like she was about to make her royalty.
âI have just the thing,â Cassandra said, her voice warm and silky like honeyed tea. âIâve been holding onto it, waiting for the right woman to wear it.â Before Y/N could ask what that meant, Cassandra had disappeared into the back of the boutique, layers of velvet curtains rustling behind her, and returned moments later cradling something so ethereal it looked like it might float away. The gown shimmered under the golden lights, an opalescent, sculpted masterpiece of silver beadwork and translucent tulle. It clung to the mannequinâs curves like it had been spun from moonlight and wishful thinking, the corseted bodice encrusted with crystals that cascaded like frozen stardust into a sweeping, feathered train.
Cassandra beamed. âOne of a kind. The detailing took me a minute and little magic.â She winked. âI didnât know who I was making it for, but now I do. You.â Y/N swallowed, unable to look away from it. âIâll craft you a mask to match,â Cassandra added, already stepping toward her with a measuring ribbon in hand. Y/N blinked, touched her fingers gently to the hem of the gown. It didnât feel like fabric, it felt like magic. âYunho doesnât know it yet,â Cassandra added with another wink, âbut heâs going to regret leaving you alone in that.â
Y/N huffed a breath of nervous laughter. âHe already looked annoyed Iâm coming at all.â
âMm,â Cassandra smirked, circling behind her to begin taking measurements. âThen youâll make him furious in the best way.â And just like that, the masquerade stopped being something she had to survive⊠and started becoming something she might actually look forward to. Cassandra didnât give her time to hesitate. âOff with the boots,â she said, already whisking the gown off the mannequin with careful hands. âAnd everything else while youâre at it. Donât worry, Iâve seen it all, stitched it tighter, and made it prettier.â
Y/N laughed under her breath but did as she was told, stepping behind the velvet divider Cassandra gestured toward. The silk lining of the gown felt like chilled water slipping over her skin as she slid into it, Cassandraâs practiced hands lacing the back with sharp, efficient tugs. âThere,â Cassandra said with a final cinch and a flick of the ribbon. âNow step out. Go on.â Y/N obeyed, and froze the second she caught her reflection.
The candlelit mirror glowed with stardust and silver. She barely recognized herself. The corset hugged her waist like it was made for her, sculpting her in a way that looked almost unreal, like a painting brought to life. The beadwork caught the soft light and turned it to frost and fire, glittering in delicate lines that shimmered with every breath she took. The sleeves, sheer and off shoulder, floated like spun smoke around her arms. And the train, gods, the train, trailed behind her like she was royalty descending from the stars. She wasnât sure if it was the magic woven into the fabric or the way Cassandra looked at her with something like pride, but for a moment⊠Y/N felt dangerous. Beautiful. Powerful. âIâŠâ Her voice caught. âI donât look like me.â
âYou donât look like the girl who walked in,â Cassandra corrected gently, stepping beside her. âBut you do look like the woman youâre becoming.â Y/N didnât respond. She couldnât. She was still staring.
Yunho kept his hood low as he moved through the winding alleys of Moon City, the illusion of starlight above casting faint reflections across the slick cobblestones. This part of the city didnât smell like magic or perfume or fresh pastries, it smelled like damp stone, old paper, and secrets. Exactly where he needed to be.
The man he was meeting was already waiting in the shadows of a crumbling stone archway near the edge of the enchanted perimeter. He didnât rise when Yunho approached, just tilted his chin and muttered, âYouâre late.â
âYouâre lucky I came at all,â Yunho replied easily, stepping under the arch and shaking off the last of the enchanted light. âDo you have it?â The man, slight older, maybe fae, maybe not, reached into his weathered coat and pulled out a tightly rolled scroll, bound in a faded ribbon that looked like it hadnât been untied in decades. âThis is the only copy left,â he muttered. âThe old paths were sealed after the last incursion into the marsh. Your father made sure of it.â
Yunho took the scroll, fingers brushing the rough twine, and didnât look up. âThatâs why I need it.â A tense silence settled. âYouâre going after him, arenât you?â the man asked, voice suddenly quieter. âTo get something back?â Yunho finally looked up. His gaze was calm, but cold. âThatâs none of your concern.â
âNo, but the marsh is.â The man leaned closer, lowering his voice. âYou wonât come out the same, boy. The marsh remembers. Even if Yeosang doesnât.â Yunhoâs jaw ticked as he turned before the man could say anything else, tucking the scroll inside his coat and vanishing back into the street shadows, his silhouette swallowed once more by the magic lit night.
Back in the heart of the city, the masquerade gown was being hemmed to fit a star. And Yunho was already planning how to break into a prison of ancient memory.
The gates of the Night Court palace groaned open as Yunho and Y/N rode in, the heavy silence between them a stark contrast to the lazy hum of the city behind them. The glow of the enchanted sky was beginning to fade, deep purple shadows crawling up the palace walls like dusk made real. Y/Nâs eyes were still wide, her mind spinning with thoughts of the gown, the day, the shopkeepersâ looks, and Yunhoâs cryptic comments about wings. But the moment they crossed the threshold, the shift was instant. Mingi was already pacing just inside the archway, hands on his hips, the tension practically vibrating off of him, frost rolling off his fingertips. His eyes snapped up the second he saw Yunho. âWe have a problem.â
Yunho was already moving before Mingi could finish. Y/N blinked, struggling to keep up as they all swept down the corridor. Their boots echoed against the black marble floors, each step toward the throne room pulling tighter and tighter at something in her chest. They reached the wide double doors, already cracked open. Inside, Alec sat lazily on his throne, elbow perched on the armrest like he had all the time in the world. Shadows curled around him like cats, purring with menace. In front of him, a trembling young servant was on his knees, eyes wild with fear. His torn sleeve revealed the edge of the Night Court crest, branding him as one of their own. âAh,â Alec purred, straightening when Yunho entered. âJust the son I needed.â
Gunho stood at the edge of the room, stiff, his youthful face pale. He made a move to back away, to leave, but Alecâs voice cracked like a whip. âYou stay exactly where you are. Youâve grown far too soft, and I think itâs time you learned what it means to lead. To rule.â Gunho froze, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Yunho came to a stop near the base of the throne steps, body coiled tight, jaw clenched. âWhat happened?â
Alec waved a hand with exaggerated boredom. âCaught trying to steal a blade from the royal armory. Sloppy. Stupid. But it makes for an excellent teaching opportunity.â His eyes slid to Y/N. âShe stays too. Let her see what sheâs bound to. Let her understand what kind of court sheâs tied herself to.â Mingi shifted behind her, a hand at her elbow, clearly about to guide her out, but at Alecâs command, he stiffened. His grip lingered on her protectively but didnât pull her away.
âGo on,â Alec drawled, resting his chin on one hand. âShow her, Yunho. Show your brother. Show me.â
Yunho didnât move for a moment. Then his eyes slowly shifted toward the servant. Y/N felt it before she saw it, an eerie chill curling around the back of her neck, the hair on her arms rising. The room dimmed as if something dark and ancient was stretching inside the space, waking from slumber. The shadows around Yunho stirred. They moved like living things, curling out from beneath his feet, his cloak, his fingertips, inky tendrils that grew long and thick and heavy. They slithered across the floor, reaching the servant even as he whimpered and began to sob.
âPlease, I didnâtâŠ. I didnât mean to!â
But the shadows didnât care. They circled him like wolves. And then, in one silent surge, they lunged. Y/Nâs eyes widened as the room was plunged into a deeper darkness, so complete it swallowed sound, sight, everything. The shadows pulsed once, like the throb of a heartbeat. And when they receded, the servant was gone. All that remained was a glistening pool of blood where he had once knelt.
Yunho stood still, head slightly bowed, expression unreadable as Alec leaned back with a smile. âBeautiful.â Gunho looked like he might be sick. Mingiâs hand tightened at Y/Nâs arm. And Y/N, frozen in place, couldnât look away from Yunho. Not from the shadows still curling faintly around his boots. Not from the blood that painted the polished floor. Not from the man she was bound to.
The blood was long gone, scrubbed away by palace magic. But it hadnât left her mind. The image of Yunho, stoic, cold, shadows coiling like smoke from his fingertips, played on a loop behind her eyes as she sat on the velvet chaise in her chambers, knees pulled to her chest, hair damp from the bath she barely remembered taking. The gown Cassandra had given her hung untouched now, after being delivered not long after they had gotten back, across the wardrobe doors. Candlelight flickered against the stone walls, casting tall shadows that danced like the ones she couldnât stop seeing.
A soft knock at her door broke the quiet. She already knew who it was. âCome in,â she murmured, not lifting her head. Wooyoung slipped inside, looking far too pretty to be lurking around royal halls after dark, all loose silks and tousled hair that said he didnât care and never would. He took one look at her and crossed the room, flopping into the armchair beside her. âYou didnât eat,â he said, watching her closely.
âWasnât hungry.â
He didnât argue. Instead, he propped his feet up on the edge of her chaise and folded his arms behind his head, like this was his room and not hers. She let him. That was just how Wooyoung was. Too much when you didnât need him, and just enough when you did. âI need to ask you something,â Y/N said softly.
He glanced over. âYou usually do.â
She hesitated. Then, eyes still on her knees, she whispered, âDoes Alec always make Yunho⊠do things like that?â The air shifted. Not sharply. But enough. Wooyoungâs jaw flexed as he sat up straighter, leaning forward, elbows on his knees now, a thousand jokes in his mouth that didnât make it past his lips. âYeah,â he said finally. âHe does.â
Y/N looked at him and Wooyoung sighed, raking a hand through his hair. âNot always like that, not in front of people. But when something needs to be handled⊠Alec doesnât get his hands dirty. He makes Yunho do it. Always has. Even when he was barely old enough to summon those shadows, he was being trained to use them like a damn executioner.â
Y/N blinked. âWhy him?â
âBecause heâs his heir. The crown prince. The perfect weapon.â Wooyoungâs voice dipped, edged in bitterness. âAnd because Alec doesnât think emotions belong in power. But he knows Yunho feels everything. So making him do the worst things?â He leaned back again, eyes dark. âIt keeps him numb. Or tries to.â
Y/Nâs chest ached. âHe didnât want to do it.â
âNo.â Wooyoungâs gaze met hers. âHe never does.â
Silence wrapped around them for a long moment. Then Wooyoung added, softer this time, âYou shouldâve seen him after the first time. Thirteen years old. Thirteen. Alec made him execute a rebel spy. Said it was his birthright. Yunho didnât sleep for a week. He didnât speak for two.â Y/Nâs fingers curled around the hem of her robe. âI hate him for it,â she said. âAlec.â
âI know.â
They sat in quiet again, the candlelight flickering low. Then Wooyoung grinned, trying to cut through the heaviness. âBut hey, on the bright side⊠your masquerade gown is going to make all of us cry.â Y/N let out a quiet laugh. And for now, that was enough.
Yunhoâs chambers were still, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight slipping through the tall windows and the flicker of enchanted orbs hovering above his desk. The ink didnât glide so much as drag beneath his hand, the quill trembling just slightly between his fingers as he sketched the lines of a mask to match the dress heâd designed, delicate, sharp, elegant. He didnât even know if it would suit her. He just needed something to do with his hands.
Behind him, the bedsheets rustled lazily. âYou know he only made you do it to try and scare her.â Mingiâs voice was casual, like he was commenting on the weather instead of blood and shadows and fatherly manipulation. He was sprawled across Yunhoâs bed in all black, one arm propped behind his head and the other holding a glass of deep red liquid he definitely hadnât gotten from the palace kitchens. Yunho didnât respond at first. His pen scratched softly across the paper. âCome on,â Mingi said, swinging his legs a little. âHe didnât need you there for that. He wanted her to see what you are. What he thinks you are.â
Yunho paused, his eyes locked on the almost finished drawing. âShe looked at me like I was a stranger.â
âShe looked at you like you were bleeding from the inside and couldnât say it out loud.â
Yunhoâs jaw clenched as Mingi took a slow sip, then tilted his head. âYouâre not mad she saw it. Youâre mad he made you show it.â That hit too close. Yunho didnât move as Mingi set the glass down on the nightstand, kicking off his boots one by one and sitting up. âShe didnât run,â he added. âThat says something.â
âShe shouldnât have had to see it,â Yunho said finally, his voice low. âNot like that. Not here.â
âSheâs not just some village girl anymore, Yunho. Not with where sheâs living now. Who sheâs bound to. Whether you like it or not, sheâs part of this court now.â
âShe didnât choose that.â
Mingi snorted. âYou think any of us did?â
Yunho said nothing. He only looked down at the mask, at the way his ink had darkened along the edges, almost like shadows bleeding through. âShe asked me if I had wings today,â he said quietly, switching the subject like it might save him from spiraling. Mingi blinked, caught off guard. âDid you tell her?â Yunho arched a brow. âOkay, okay,â Mingi grinned, hands up. âSave the mystery. Let her find out the fun way.â Yunho rolled his eyes, but the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and Mingi saw it. âThere he is.â
The Night Court was quiet at night in a way that unsettled the soul, too still, too watchful. Not even the wind dared move through the long corridors. Moonlight stretched in ribbons across the marble floors, glinting off distant sconces like the palace itself was awake, breathing low and slow in the dark. Y/N couldnât sleep. The image of the servant disappearing into nothing but a spatter of blood wouldnât leave her. Not because it frightened her, but because it didnât.
Her bare feet made no sound as she padded through the hallway, one hand trailing along the velvet lined wall. She didnât know where she was going until she was already there, standing in front of the grand double doors of the palace library. She slipped inside. It smelled like old parchment, candle wax, and faintly of something darker, shadow and ink, maybe. She didnât expect anyone to be there. But she felt him before she saw him.
Yunho sat in one of the tall backed chairs by the hearth, shirt loose, dark robe hanging open at his sides, boots off, legs stretched out in front of him like heâd been here for hours. A thick book lay open in his lap, one hand absently turning the pages. He didnât look up. âI couldnât sleep either,â Y/N said quietly, stepping closer. His gaze flicked to her. Something unreadable passed through his eyes, but he closed the book slowly and set it aside.
âWhat part of the day haunted you?â he asked, voice low as she walked over, folding her arms lightly over her chest. âThe part where your father told you to kill someone. And you did.â He said nothing, but his jaw shifted, tension flaring in the lines of his throat. âIâve seen death before,â she said. âBut Iâve never seen shadows like that. Or a person vanish into blood.â Still, he didnât speak. âI think you expected me to run,â she said softly. âOr scream. Or avoid you.â
He tilted his head slightly. âDid you want to?â
She stepped closer until the blue firelight caught in her eyes. âYou donât scare me, Yunho.â His brows lifted, barely. âNo?â
âNo.â
âYou should be afraid,â he said, quieter now. âYou saw what I am. What I can do.â
âI saw what your father made you do,â she corrected, tone sharper now. âThat wasnât your cruelty. That was your control.â
The shadows stirred by his boots as she stepped between them. âDo you think I donât know what monsters look like?â she whispered. âReal ones donât hesitate. They donât look away when itâs over. You did.â He looked up at her fully now, all trace of ice stripped back, only firelight and shadow left behind.
He was silent for a long moment. âMy magicâŠ. itâs not gentle.â
âIâm not asking you to be,â she said. âBut donât pretend I canât handle what you are.â His eyes searched hers, and something in him cracked, just a little. The edge in his shoulders softened. A breath, heavy and quiet, left him. âWhy here?â he asked eventually, glancing around the dark, book lined room.
âI didnât know I was coming here,â she said. âGuess I was looking for answers.â He leaned back, the fire painting flickers across his skin. âAnd did you find any?â She smiled faintly. âOnly that you look better under candlelight than you do in fake sunlight.â
He huffed a quiet laugh, shadows curling at the edges of his feet again, playful now, not dangerous. âCareful,â he said. âYou keep saying things like that, I might start thinking you like me.â She met his gaze, serious again. âI already do.â And for the first time in a long time, Yunho looked afraid.
The gardens of the Night Court palace were empty this early, dewdrops still clung to the edges of midnight blue petals, and the mist hadnât yet burned off under the rising false sun. Y/N had wandered out for a moment of quiet, slipping past the kitchens and through the east terrace in hopes of some peace. What she found instead was Mingi.
He was standing by a stone sculpture that looked, at first glance, like a grand birdbath, intricate carvings of winter leaves and snow foxes curling around its edges. But it shimmered faintly, like heat waves off desert sand, and the surface of the water inside pulsed with a glow too magical to be anything natural. And Mingi⊠was mid argument. âI am taking it seriously!â he snapped at the still water, pacing in a tight, frustrated line. âIf you want someone who grovels and bows every time you breathe, ask my brother. He lives to kiss yourâŠ. oh donât act shocked now!â
The water pulsed again, a deep, angry red this time. âI didnât ask to be sent here, Father,â Mingi hissed. âI decided to be here.â The glow flared, a voice, too muffled to understand, booming just under the surface. Mingiâs face twisted, frustration crackling off of him in icy bursts, little frost blooms forming on the stones at his feet. âFine,â he growled. And just like that, the magic fizzled out, the shimmer fading into a dull silver ripple. The birdbath was just stone again.
Mingi turned sharply, ready to storm off, only to freeze when he saw her. Y/N stood at the edge of the garden path, hands tucked into the sleeves of a soft navy robe, one eyebrow raised and the faintest curve of a smirk on her lips. âYou talk to your furniture often?â she asked, cocking her head teasingly. His eyes darted back to the birdbath. âItâs an enchanted scrying bowl. Ancient Winter Court magic. Not⊠furniture.â
âLooked like it sassed you first,â she teased again gently, stepping closer as Mingi dragged a hand through his hair, the tension still visible in his jaw. âItâs my father. Heâs just⊠he doesnât think much of the way I do things.â
âLet me guess, he wanted you to be more like Yunho?â Mingi barked a humorless laugh. âMore like his version of Yunho. All cold steel and blind obedience. No thanks.â She glanced toward the now still water, then back at him. âYou okay?â He stared at her a moment, like he wasnât expecting the question. Then gave a crooked smile that didnât quite reach his eyes frosty eyes. âYeah,â he said. âJust needed to yell at something that canât throw me out of the palace.â
She nudged his arm. âCome on. I heard breakfast is better when youâre not glaring daggers at ceremonial fountains.â
âTechnically itâs a conduitâŠâ he started.
âCeremonial. Fountain,â she repeated, walking past him and Mingi had to bite back a grin as he followed her.
The kitchens of the Night Court palace were already alive with movement, though the sun had only just crested the jagged horizon beyond the obsidian peaks. Fire fae stirred heavy pots over sapphire flames, trays of fruit floated through the air on their own accord, and the scent of toasted sugar and fresh herbs filled the space like magic in the air. Mingi and Y/N ducked through the servantâs entrance, well, she ducked. Mingi bumped his shoulder on the doorframe, cursed softly, and glared like it was personal.
They made their way to the long prep table in the back, where Jocelyn rolled her eyes and slid a plate toward Mingi before he even had to ask. She placed a smaller one in front of Y/N with a knowing grin. âDonât eat too much of the blue stuff,â she teased, tapping her plate.
âWhy?â
Mingi answered around a mouthful of toast. âIt makes you horny.â
Y/N blinked. âWhy does that exist?â
Jocelyn just shrugged. âTidus requested it. Said the court balls were boring.â Y/N snorted and pushed the blue glazed tart to the side. âDuly noted.â They settled at a table in the corner, low light filtering in through enchanted crystal windows. Mingi chewed like a man who hadnât eaten in days, grumbling happily with every bite. Y/N took a sip of her tea, swirling it thoughtfully. âSo,â she said after a minute, âthe masqueradeâs tomorrow.â
Mingi groaned. âUgh. Yeah. And guess who you get to meet, my royal pain in the ass older brother. The heir.â His voice was filled with annoyance making Y/N raise an eyebrow. âIâm guessing you and your brother donât exactly get along.â
âThatâs an understatement,â he muttered. âHe likes to judge everything I do while sipping overpriced wine and pretending he isnât jealous that my powers grew more than his.â Y/N grinned. âHe sounds delightful.â
âOh, he is. Wait until he starts monologuing about Winter Court etiquette. If you ever want to die of boredom, just ask him to explain how ice sculptures reflect your soul or something.â
âIs your father coming too?â she asked casually, sipping again. Mingi barked out a sharp laugh. âThank the gods, no. Can you imagine? Heâd just stand there glaring at everyone and muttering about how Iâve shamed the bloodline.â
âSounds like a fun family reunion.â
Mingi pointed a fork at her. âYou laugh now. Wait until he tries to corner you and talk about proper mask placement and Winter honor codes. Youâll be praying for a lightning strike.â
âMaybe Iâll hang out by the dessert table and fake a fainting spell.â
âIâll back you up. Iâve faked worse. Once shifted just to get out of a political dinner.â
Y/N choked on her tea. âYou what?â
âDesperate times,â he said solemnly. âAnd I really didnât want to meet the Duke of Frostpeakâs three hundred year old virgin son.â She cackled. And for the first time that morning, Mingiâs smile reached all the way to his eyes.
The moment Jocelyn set down the warm plates of pie in front of them, Mingi lit up like a child on Solstice morning. âBless you, Jocelyn,â he said, already reaching for his fork. âIf I die at this masquerade, tell your fruit pie it was the last thing I loved.â Jocelyn snorted. âTry not to die. I already have too many ghosts in my pantry.â
Y/N had just taken a bite, sweet, tart, with just enough crumble, when a familiar slink of silk and poison laced perfume drifted into the kitchen. Drusilla. Of course. She glided toward them like the floor was bowing beneath her, hair pinned into an unnecessarily elaborate twist, her red dress clinging like it had been painted on. Mingiâs entire demeanor shifted instantly, fork dropping with a soft clink as his gaze iced over.
âWell, well,â Drusilla purred, eyeing Y/N like she was something half dried on the bottom of her shoe. âEnjoying your little⊠peasant breakfast?â Mingi rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didnât fall out. âYouâre staying here in the palace?â Y/N asked, voice neutral but sharp enough to cut glass.
Drusillaâs painted smile stretched wider. âOf course. My brother is Alecâs right hand, remember? Itâs only natural. In fact,â she added with a sickly sweet sigh, âI do believe Alec will be announcing a proposal between Yunho and I soon.â
Mingi made a noise like he was actively gagging as Y/N arched a brow, unfazed. âIs that what you want? To be married to someone who clearly hates you?â Drusillaâs grin faltered. Cracked. Shattered. Just for a second, but Y/N saw it. âYouâll learn your place soon enough,â Drusilla said with venom, eyes narrowing as she turned on her heel and stalked away, heels clicking like war drums across the stone floor.
A beat passed. Then another. And then Mingi leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief and pie fueled admiration. âWhat?â Y/N asked warily as he grinned. âI just think itâs rather sexy how you shut her up.â Y/N snorted into her tea. âMingiâŠâ
âNo, really. I think I got a little turned on. Say something mean again. Just not to me, Iâm fragile.â
She rolled her eyes, laughing, and for a moment, despite Drusillaâs poisonous presence and everything that loomed ahead, the kitchen felt warm. Safe. And absolutely full of trouble.
Y/N stepped into her chambers, stretching her arms overhead with a soft groan. The palace halls had been loud with preparations for tomorrow, silks being carted through, chandeliers polished until they blinded, guards looking unusually polished. It was like the Night Court had decided to collectively flirt with elegance and menace all at once. But none of that compared to the high-pitched squeal that erupted the moment she closed her door.
âOh. My. Gods,â Wooyoung practically floated across the room, arms flailing in the air like he was conducting an invisible orchestra. âItâs here. Itâs here. Itâs divine.â
âWhatâs here?â Y/N asked, blinking.
He pointed dramatically next to her gown, now displayed on her bed like it had been blessed by the stars themselves. âThis mask? Divine retribution. Youâre going to walk into that masquerade and make gods weep. Mingi might combust. Yunho might finally forget how to form sentences, oh wait, he already does that when he sees you.â
âWoo,â Y/N warned, face flushed as he grinned, backing off with a wink. âJust saying. Itâs dangerous to look that good when youâre bound to a prince.âShe smiled faintly, running her fingers over the curve of the mask, something pulling at her. Like a thread unraveling quietly inside her chest. What she didnât know, what neither of them did, was Yunho had been in his room, fingers ink stained, sketching that very dress and mask from memory. From a dream. For her. And Cassandra, with a knowing smile and a flair for mischief, had simply whispered, âI have just the thing.â When he had shown the drawings to her.
The ballroom was quiet, the storm of tomorrowâs masquerade still waiting to crash down over the palace. Servants hustled in hushed voices, candlelight glowed from sconces in the walls, and the scent of aged stone and distant lilacs perfumed the corridors of the Night Court as Mingi leaned against a cold marble column just inside the receiving hall, arms crossed and jaw tight. Heâd sensed it the moment he arrived, Minho, his older brother and heir to the Winter Court. It was a chill that didnât come from the weather.
Minho strolled through the archway like he owned the place, draped in royal blue and white, silver frost curling lightly at his boots with every step. He looked the part of a perfect heir, sharp, cold, polished like a blade kept just out of reach. âStill trying to escape Fatherâs matchmaking?â Mingi asked dryly as he pushed off the column.
Minho laughed humorlessly. âPriscillaâs still available. And still insufferable.â
Mingi rolled his eyes, lips curling. âYou can have her.â
Minho grinned. âTempting.â But then his gaze shifted, over Mingiâs shoulder and across the hall where Y/N was walking, a candle in her hand and a soft robe draped over her shoulders, clearly on her way back from one of the smaller reading rooms. Minhoâs grin widened. âAh,â he murmured. âThat must be the little pet Yunhoâs got tucked into his shadows.â
Mingiâs smile faded as his brother didnât stop. âSheâs pretty. For a human. Youâve got decent taste, brother.â Mingiâs jaw clenched. âAnd I heard,â Minho continued, voice dropping with amusement, âabout your little⊠incident at the Autumn Court.â He smirked as Mingiâs eyes darkened. âDrusillaâs spell. So easy to trigger you, wasnât it? Tell me, how do you think Father would react if he knew you almost tainted yourself over human cunt?â
The silence snapped like ice underfoot. Minho staggered. He clutched his throat, gasping. His breath turned white as a sheen of frost crept over his lips, his eyes bulging. He dropped to one knee, a strangled sound tearing from his throat as his lungs seized, freezing from the inside out.
Mingi stood over him, calm and frigid, the air around him shimmering with magic so cold it hummed. âYou may be my brother,â Mingi said, voice low and lethal, âand heir to our court. But you ever talk about her like that againâŠâ He leaned down, eyes gleaming like ice chips. âIâll freeze your fucking tongue off and make you watch as I feed it to the crows.â
Minho finally gasped a breath, hacking and choking as the frost receded, steam curling from his skin as warmth returned and Mingi straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, and looked over his shoulder. Y/N was gone, but a servant stood frozen a few feet away, wide eyed, trembling.
Mingi exhaled through his nose and started walking, muttering, âTell anyone and Iâll freeze your lips shut.â
PAIRINGS : stoner!Jung Wooyoung x Fem!reader
GENRE : smut w/ little plot, stoner woo, drunkish!reader, high!wooyoung, unprotected sex (WRAP BEFORE TAP), toxic!wooyoung.
WARNINGS : under the influence but consensual sex, alcohol, weed cigs, degradation, hair pulling, soft spanking.
{A/n: thought of doing sm like this ever since MBC 2025 red hair cowboy Wooyoung dropped.}
âIâm telling you Y/n! This place is super hyped up I really need you to come with me!â Your friend Dani whined, practically on her knees begging you. You huffed out a sigh, looking down at her with a unfazed look, crossing your arms at your chest. She looked up at you with a pout on her face, hands at your knees. You narrowed your eyes at her. She sighed slowly getting up, using your shoulders as a railing.
âIâll cover your shift next Friday and buy you lunch next time.â She groaned, waking away towards your closet, knowing you will agree you.
And boy you sure did agree!
Your face lit up with excitement as you skipped towards her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders placing a kiss to her temple. âI love you~â you cooed causing her to glare at you. âYouâre lucky I tolerate your bratty ass.â You giggled, letting her choose your outfit for the night while you scrolled away on your phone.
âHow did you even find this place? Itâs like literally on the outskirts of this city. And I have never once seen you leave this area let alone go till there.â You looked up from your phone at her with a curious glint shining in your eye.
Dani turned back to face you with a sly grin. âFelix asked me to come..â she flushed, fidgeting with the top in her hands. You let out a knowing scoff, smirking slightly. âHere! Wear this, youâll look so hot and who knows.. maybe you can find someone too~â Dani winked, throwing the outfit at the bed. You glanced back at the phone, sighing.
it was definitely going to be a long night.
As the night approached, Dani waved at the car that pulled up into the street. The car door opened, Dani ran to the drivers side, jumping into the arms of the tall freckled blonde haired man. She dragged him towards you while you stood awkwardly. âY/n! This is Felix, my boyfriend, Felix this y/n, my roommate and best friend!â She smiled brightly. Felix smiled softly at you, extending his hand. âIâve heard so much about you.â He chuckled, his deep voice like silk paired with his strong accent. âLikewise.â You said, shaking his hand.
âOkay letâs get going now ladies.â He gestured, opening the car door for you and Dani.
The car ride was simple and sweet. Dani and Felix flirting shamelessly in front of you making your heart swell with how adorable they are and the soft murmur of music in the background. About 45 minutes we finally reached at the bar. Getting out of the car, Felix led the both of you, his hand on the small back of Daniâs back as you three entered the bar.
The door swung open, entering into a wash of warm tones of lights, the air humming with melodies you hadnât heard since childhood car rides. A disco ball spun lazily overhead, scattering light across chrome stools and worn leather booths, while an old arcade cabinet blinked in the corner like it was waiting for you. The bar smelled of citrus, smoke, and something sweet, and every surface seemed to glow with unapologetic excess. It felt like the â80s hadnât endedâjust been waiting for someone to walk back in.
âWoahâ you let out before you could even realise. Felix laughed at your reaction. âI know. My friends have amazing taste when it comes to bars.â He nodded at the corner table, packed with men, laughing and clinking glasses against the table as they set it down. Felix took Daniâs hand guiding her to the table. She turned her head to you, nodding you to follow along. You sucked in a breath, looking over at them. Your eyes glanced at the men at the table and you stalked your way towards them, awkwardly standing next to the couple.
âGuys, this is Dani, my girlfriend.â Felix smiled proudly, squeezing her shoulder. She smiled and waved at the guys that cheered for them happily. âOh and this is her friend. Y/n.â Felix gestured, nodding at you. You smiled softly, nodding your head at them.
âLadies, these are my friends, Yunho, Bangchan, Hyunjin, San and- yah where is Wooyoung?â Felix frowned looking around the table.
âIâm right here Lix.â The deep voice from behind caught your attention. You glanced back, eyes widening a bit as you froze slightly. Your eyes shamelessly checked out the very attractive man before you. His red hair shining under the warm lights, his golden tan skin glistening with sweat and his pearly whites shining brightly with the smile he held. Felix went to him, hugging him tight and turning around to face you both.
âLadies this is my best friend Wooyoung. Wooyoung, this is Dan-.â â âOh I know. Youâve told me too much about her.â Wooyoung smiled politely at her and then his gaze shifted to you. His eyes looking you up and down with a sly expression. âAnd you?â He asked, his voice smooth like honey. âMy best friend, Y/n. Thought Iâd tag her along for a change.â Dani chuckled, squeezing your hand. You didnât dare look away from Wooyoung as he stepped towards you.
âHi, Iâm Wooyoung.â He smiled, slightly towering over you with not just his height but the unavoidable aura he held. âHi.â You smiled, trying to seem as confident as he was but under his gaze, him looking at you as though he was undressing you with his eyes it was almost impossible.
âCome on letâs sit!â Dani exclaimed going back to the table, Felix clinging to her. You nodded, looking back at Wooyoung as he smiled, letting you go first. You slotted yourself between the tall brunette, Yunho and Wooyoung himself. Your bare thighs brushing against both men.
San spoke up first, âHow did you guys meet?â clasping his hands together. Dani giggled at the question, looking over at the flustered blonde man beside her. âWell lix and I actually met because of Y/n. He came into the cafe and she was supposed to take his order. But she insisted that I did because she thought he was my type..â she trailed off giggling.
âWell look how that turned out.â Bangchan chuckled, earning soft laughter from around the table.
Hyunjin ordered drinks for everyone. Three rounds in and people were already dipping, going into the counter to hit up girls, Dani and Felix clinging to each other in a corner and you tipsy still at the table with Wooyoung.
âSo youâre the matchmaker huh?â He slurred slightly, leaning in to speak better. You chuckled, âI wouldnât say match maker, thatâs just fate and instinct.â You winked earning a smirk from Wooyoung. âAre you with anyone?â Wooyoung asked, his gaze dark and hopeful? You nodded, âNope, you?â He chuckled, âI wouldnât be here if I did.â You hummed, taking in another shot.
After a bit of small conversation with Wooyoung about things like cooking, photography and whatever, he grew a bit restless, shifting in his seat continuously. You noticed and asked him about it. âI need a hit. You wanna come with?â He asked. You hesitated a bit, having not taken anything before. âDonât worry Iâll look out for you.â He assured, giving you a smile. You caved in, nodding and followed him out to the back.
He took your hand and led you to the back alleyway. Resting against the wall, pulling out the lighter and cigarettes from his back pocket. You leaned against the wall, beside him. Crossing your arms around yourself for warmth in the cold night. He glanced over at you, cig pressed in his lips, he shrugged off his brown jacket, draping it over your shoulders. You flinched a bit at the sudden gesture, âOh. Thank you~â you smiled earning a nod from him.
You watched carefully as he brought the lighter to his mouth, lighting it and sucked in a breath, pulling the cigarette from his mouth. He swirled the smoke in his mouth before letting it out with a soft hiss. He looked over at you with a smirk, âWant one?â He asked taking another drag out of it. âUh oh I donât-.â You hesitated a bit but was cut off as he brought the cig to your mouth, tapping your lips with the tip of it. His eyes dark and unyielding. You opened your mouth a bit to let it in, your gaze never leaving his. You sucked in a breath, the smoke cool on your tongue, choking slightly but let it out.
âHow was it?â Wooyoung asked without glancing at you knowing your answer. âFeels oddly satisfying.â You said, resting your head against the wall. âD-does it make you high?â You asked, voice cracking just a bit. He chuckled, nodding slowly. âIt can make you a lot of things, high, honest, drunk.. horny. You name it.â He said nonchalantly.
âHorny? That strong?â You asked, tilting your head to the side slightly. Wooyoung just smiled amusedly and handed the cig to you. You took a drag, still choking on it in the end but otherwise fine. You both stayed in silence, letting the smoke and cold air ease the tension between the both of you.
âhey.. donât mind me asking but.. is there a reason why your single?â He asked, breaking the tension with his curiosity. You looked at him, âdo I really need one to stay single?â You retorted back teasingly. âI mean who wouldnât want you, youâre smart, hardworking and funny, and so beautiful.â Wooyoung said with a sly smirk but his words genuine. âWell I havenât had anyone.. that could you know. Satisfy me or surprise me.â You said, shrugging slightly.
âAhh.. is that right?â He said, dusting off the ash from the cig and brought it to his mouth again, taking a longer drag this time. He dropped the used cigarette to the ground, his heavy boot rubbing into it. Wooyoung turned to face you abruptly, stalking closer, invading your personal space. You looked at him, cheeks heating up a bit with the way he looked at you. His chocolate brown eyes held a dangerous glint. Dark and lustful.
He grabbed your wrist, tugging you closer, snacking a hand around your waist while the other cupped your cheek. He looked at you, really looked at you for any sign of discomfort, giving you time to stop him before he crosses the thin line.
You grew impatient, crashing your lips onto his roughly, your fingers curling into firsts against his cooler, tugging him closer. He deepened the kiss, biting down at your lip enticing a gasp from you, giving him the clear window. He huffed out the smoke from his mouth into yours, letting you get high not just of the drug but his lips too. You moaned softly, pulling back to catch your breath.
âWas that surprising enough for you?â
Wooyoung asked, chuckling softly. You swatted his chest, rolling your eyes in annoyance.
His lips found yours again, this time slowly but with more purpose. It trailed from your lips to your jaw, peppering soft kisses before slipping to your neck. Alternating from kitten licks to hard sucking, Wooyoung littered your neck with subtle bruises and spit. You whimpered against him, the feeling shooting straight down to your core.
âDo you even know what youâre doing to me in this little outfit of yours?â He growled next to the shell of your ear as he tugged at your miniskirt.
âWooyoung..â you whimpered, tugging at his sleeve. He chuckled softly. âSo impatient. Tell me sweetheart. What do you need.â He asked, gaze never leaving you. âI want you please.â You pleaded, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. He noticed and placed his hand between your thighs, tutting in disappointment.
âBe specific baby, you want my cock or my fingers or my mouth in you.â
Wooyoung gave you one last try before he decided for himself. âI want your cock. Please Wooyoung.â You cried out, feeling the need to be filled. âAttagirl.â He smirked, turning you around and bending you over against the wall. His hands lifted the hem of the skirt above your ass, leaving you in your soaked lace panties, his fingers rubbed against your cunt slowly, testing. You whimpered at the contact, needing more immediately. âWooyoung..â you whined. He tsked and pulled the band to the side, exposing your bare cunt to him. You whimpered at the feeling of cold air being blown at your clit.
âYou want me sweetheart?â He asked, unzipping his own pants and freeing his painfully hard cock, giving it a lazy stroke as lined up with your entrance. âYes! I need you so bad-.â He cut you off with a sudden thrust. You cried out, hands clenched into fists against the wall as he bottomed out.
âFuck baby youâre so tight. This pussy is sucking me in like itâs made for me.â Wooyoung groaned. He started giving shallow thrusts, barely even moving as the feeling of your pussy fluttering and clenching around him still lingered. He began picking the pace up, his thrusts faster and deeper, moving with a purpose. You cried his name out, head dipping in pain turned pleasure.
His palm stayed spread over your ass while the other held your hip firmly, too firmly, you knew it was going you leave bruises the next day. He rammed into you mercilessly, groaned and whimpering softly every time you clenched. You began to grow louder with each thrust. The hand on your ass retracted for a second before slapping down on the plush skin. You jolted in shock, the sting hurting in the best ways.
âKeep it quiet slut, wouldnât want anyone to hear how well Iâm fucking you now do we?â Wooyoungs deep slutty voice only made you more needy as you nodded, biting down on your lip to silence the moans slipping out of you. The alleyway echoed of wet skin slapping and heavy panting. It was so obscene.
Wooyoung trailed his hand to your hair, yanking you back with force, pressing his chest against your back as he didnât even falter in his speed. âW-Wooyoung! I think Iâm gonna!â You moaned, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten with each thrust. He smirked, snacking a hand down to your clit, his fingers rubbing it in tight circles, while whispering sinful words into your ears. You grabbed at his bicep, bracing yourself as you came closer and closer to your high.
âcum for me sweetheart.â
Wooyoung allowed, and those words were enough to tip you over, your high crashing down on his cock with a silent scream of his name. He followed soon after, painting the insides of your walls white with hot stripes of cum. He gave couple of lazy thrusts to ride it out and finally stopped, pulling out slowly. The emptiness made you both whine.
âThat was great.â He smiled, helping your stand and fixing your outfit. You nodded, still dazed. âIâll call you Y/n.â He said with a smile that made you melt. You smiled back, âIâll be waiting.â You cooed earning a chuckle from the red head as he guided you back to the bar.
Dani waited out in front with Felix and his car. She spotted you and waved, at you to come. Wooyoung helped you get into the car, giving you a wink and short goodbye they drove away. You couldnât help but smile and sigh after the stuff that just happened.
The next day you woke up with a dry phone, no texts from Wooyoung whatsoever. You sulked the entire day, feeling upset and used. Eventually Dani caught on, âYah! Did you even give him your number?â She asked, crossing her hands. You gasped in disbelief, âI forgot! Thatâs Why! Tell Felix to give him my number please!â You begged, practically in your knees, pouting and whining.
Dani chuckled and nodded, pulling out her phone and typed in some shit. âNow we wait.â She said smiling. You sighed of relief knowing that he probably didnât actually ghost you.
Word Count: 25.7k (đ) [it's gonna be a 2 parter]
Warnings: biker jongho (need I say more?), he is also a bit annoying, but he becomes a MAN at the end
AN: Ok I'm a sucker for jongho, u guys know it. And after he posted his picture I had a seizure. And I kinda slipped and wrote this whole thing. And yeah this is for all the jongho girlies out there like me. Please please please love this as I spent a lot of time writing this!
Masterlist
This is part one. Read part two here-
one | two
The brisk winter air nipped at YNâs cheeks as she stood at the entrance of her new college. The towering brick building seemed almost menacing in the gray morning light, but she pushed the uneasiness aside. This was her fresh startâa chance to prove herself in a new environment. With her books clutched tightly to her chest, she took a deep breath and walked inside.
The first few days were a whirlwind of introductions, lectures, and navigating unfamiliar hallways. YN quickly found herself bonding with Hanni, a bright and cheerful girl who seemed to know everyone. Hanni made the transition easier, guiding YN through the social intricacies of the campus.
By the end of the week, YN noticed something odd. Every time a certain group walked down the hall, conversations died, students avoided eye contact, and some even went as far as turning around to take another route. She spotted them from a distanceâeight guys, each exuding an air of dominance that seemed to make the air thicker. They moved like a pack, and the energy around them was impossible to ignore.
"Who are they?" YN finally asked Hanni during lunch, her curiosity outweighing her hesitance.
Hanniâs face turned serious as she glanced around to make sure no one else was listening. âThatâs Ateez,â she whispered. âTheyâreâŠwell, the jocks of the college. Everyone fears them.â
YN frowned. âWhy?â
âTheyâre not just athletes. Theyâre...intense. If someone so much as looks at them the wrong way, things donât end well.â Hanni hesitated, lowering her voice further. âI heard someone got sent to the hospital last year because of an argument with one of them.â
YNâs eyes widened. âSeriously?â
âYeah. Hongjoong is their leader. Heâs smart but scary. Seonghwa, his second-in-command, always has this calm but intimidating vibe. Yunho and Mingi are the muscleâyou donât want to get on their bad side. San and Wooyoung? Absolute chaos, always ready to start something. Yeosang is quiet, but people say heâs the sharpest one of them all. And JonghoâŠheâs the enforcer. If Hongjoong gives the word, Jongho makes sure itâs done.â
YNâs stomach twisted uneasily. âThey sound like villains in a movie.â
Hanni shrugged. âItâs best to steer clear of them. Just focus on your studies and donât give them a reason to notice you.â
YN didnât respond to Hanniâs warning, opting instead to stay quiet and let the conversation drift to safer topics. Deep down, she wasnât sure how she felt about this so-called fearsome group. They sounded like trouble, but she didnât see how avoiding them would be difficultâshe wasnât the type to get involved with people like that anyway.
Later that afternoon, YN walked into her next lecture, the chill of the earlier conversation still lingering. She found her usual spot near the back of the classroom, quietly unpacking her notebook and pen. The room slowly filled with students, but the air shifted when a group entered.
She didnât need to turn around to know who it was. Whispers and nervous glances rippled through the class, and her pulse quickened.
For the first time, YN let herself take a cautious look. There he wasâJongho. He was hard to miss, even without the murmurs. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried an aura of icy indifference, his sharp jawline and piercing gaze giving him an almost unapproachable air. He wore a simple hoodie, but somehow, it only emphasized his muscular frame.
YN quickly looked away, her heart pounding. So this is what Hanni meant. She had shared a class with him all week but hadnât even realized it. She must have been too absorbed in adjusting to the new college life to notice.
Jongho took a seat a few rows ahead of her, close enough that she could see the subtle tension in his posture. He didnât speak to anyone, his focus completely on the empty whiteboard at the front of the room. He radiated a coldness that seemed to push everyone away, yet she noticed how other students carefully avoided sitting near him.
Deciding to stick to her original plan, YN ignored his presence, keeping her eyes firmly on her notes throughout the lecture. But as the weeks passed, it became harder to pretend he wasnât there. He was in more of her classes than sheâd realized, and his presence was impossible to miss.
Jongho never caused a sceneâhe was silent, focused, and distant. Yet there was something about him that made her uneasy. He wasnât just another student. There was a weight to him, a quiet strength that made the air feel heavier when he walked into a room.
And whether she wanted to admit it or not, YN was beginning to notice him more and more.
Jongho had never paid much attention to his classmates. He came to class, did what was required, and leftânever lingering or engaging unless absolutely necessary. To him, school was simply a task to complete, something to cross off his list.
But one day, during a particularly grueling economics lecture, something caught his attention. The professor had asked a questionâa tricky one that made most of the class go silent, their heads sinking lower to avoid eye contact.
And then, she spoke.
"Isnât the answer related to the supply-demand equilibrium in a perfectly competitive market?"
Her voice was calm and self-assured, and when Jongho glanced up from his notebook, he saw her. She sat near the back, her expression thoughtful as she explained her reasoning. The professor nodded, impressed, and praised her for her detailed response.
Jonghoâs brow furrowed. He hadnât even considered answering that questionâit had seemed too abstract to bother with. Yet, there she was, providing answers with ease.
At first, he shrugged it off. Maybe she just got lucky. But over the next few classes, he noticed it happening again. The professor would pose a difficult question, and before anyone else could muster the courage to speak, sheâd answer it. Every time.
It started to bother him.
Jongho prided himself on being one of the smartest students in his classes, even if he didnât flaunt it. He hated drawing attention to himself, but deep down, he knew he was sharpâmore than capable of holding his own against anyone. Yet this transfer student, who barely even seemed to acknowledge anyone in the room, was constantly one step ahead.
âWho does she think she is?â he muttered under his breath after one particularly frustrating class.
From then on, Jongho found himself paying closer attention to her. He wasnât sure if it was out of curiosity or sheer annoyance, but he started to notice little things about her. The way her hand shot up the moment a question was asked. The quiet determination in her eyes as she scribbled down notes. The slight smile she gave when the professor praised her responses.
It wasnât just that she was smartâshe was confident in her knowledge, and it was infuriating.
For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt like someone was challenging him. And he didnât like it.
The buzz around campus was electric when the exam results were finally posted on the bulletin board. Students crowded around, eagerly scanning the list of names and scores. YN was among the last to approach, her usual calm demeanor giving way to quiet excitement.
When she finally found her name at the very top of the list, her heart soared. She had done itâtopped her first major exam at the new college. Her efforts, countless late nights of studying, and meticulous note-taking had paid off.
Hanni squealed in delight when she saw the results. âYN! Youâre at the top! I told you youâre a genius!â
YN laughed, the joy bubbling up inside her. âItâs just one exam, Hanni.â
âDoesnât matter! You crushed it!â Hanni grinned and tugged her arm. âWeâre celebrating. Thereâs this cute cafe nearbyâmy treat!â
They walked to the cafe, the chill of the winter day melting into the warmth of good company and coffee. YN felt proud, her confidence growing as Hanni hyped her up about her success.
But across campus, in a quieter corner of the library, Jongho wasnât in such a celebratory mood.
He stared at the results list on his phone, his jaw clenched. Second place. Heâd never been second. Not once. For as long as he could remember, his name had always been at the top. It was his thingâthe one thing no one could take from him.
But now, there it was. YN. A name he hadnât even bothered to remember until recently. The transfer student had dethroned him, and it stung.
Jongho closed his phone and leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His mind replayed the last few weeks: her quick answers in class, the way she always seemed to know everything, her calm confidence. He had brushed it off at first, but now it was clearâshe wasnât just smart. She was better than him, at least academically.
And Jongho hated losing.
âSheâs just a transfer,â he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the irritation. âItâs probably beginnerâs luck.â
But the more he thought about it, the more it bothered him. It wasnât just the resultsâit was the way she seemed so unaffected by everything. While he was stewing in his frustration, she was probably out there celebrating, not even thinking twice about the fact that she had knocked him down.
For the first time in a long time, Jongho felt something unfamiliarâa mix of annoyance and determination. He wasnât about to let this stand.
âFine,â he thought, his jaw tightening. âLetâs see how long she can keep this up.â
Jongho's frustration only grew as the weeks turned into months. Every test, every quiz, every examâYN was always at the top. It didnât matter how much he studied or how hard he tried to reclaim his spot. Her name remained above his, and it gnawed at him.
His friends noticed the change in him.
During one of their usual hangouts, Wooyoung nudged Jongho with his elbow. âYouâve been acting weird lately. Whatâs up with you?â
âNothing,â Jongho muttered, not bothering to look up from his phone.
San leaned back in his chair, smirking. âDonât tell me itâs about those scores again. Youâre still stuck on that, arenât you?â
âI said itâs nothing,â Jongho snapped, his voice sharper than he intended.
Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. âOh, itâs definitely something. Youâve been sulking since those results came out. Whatâs the deal with her? Did she do something to you?â
Jongho sighed, running a hand through his hair. âNo, she didnât do anything. She justâshe keeps beating me. Itâs annoying.â
Yeosang, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. âSo what? Youâre not used to competition?â
âItâs not just competition,â Jongho muttered. âItâs likeâŠno matter what I do, sheâs always one step ahead.â
The room fell silent for a moment before San shrugged. âThen maybe talk to her. Figure out what sheâs doing that youâre not.â
Jongho scoffed, leaning back in his chair. âYeah, like Iâm going to go up to her and ask for advice. Sheâs the reason Iâm in this mess.â
But even as the words left his mouth, he knew San had a point. He couldnât keep letting this get to him. If he wanted to understand why she was always on top, heâd have to confront her eventually.
Two months had passed since the first exam results, and YNâs streak hadnât faltered. Every high score, every bit of praise from the professors only added to Jonghoâs growing frustration. Heâd tried ignoring it, tried telling himself it didnât matter, but the truth was, it did.
He finally decided he couldnât take it anymore. After class one afternoon, as the students began to trickle out of the lecture hall, Jongho stayed behind, his eyes fixed on YN as she packed her things.
She was just about to leave when he stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over her desk.
âHey,â he said, his voice low and steady.
YN looked up, surprised to see him standing there. âOh, hi.â
For a moment, he didnât know what to say. He had spent so long stewing in his own thoughts that now, face-to-face with her, he felt unprepared.
âYouâre YN, right?â he finally asked, even though he already knew the answer.
She nodded, her expression curious. âYeah. And youâre Jongho.â
He was slightly taken aback that she knew his name, but he didnât let it show. âWe need to talk,â he said, his tone firm.
YN blinked, clearly confused. âAbout what?â
âAbout how you keep getting the highest scores,â he said bluntly. âAnd why youâre always ahead of me.â
Jongho froze as YNâs words echoed in his mind.
"Maybe itâs because youâre not studying enough."
She had said it so casually, so effortlessly, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking out of the room, leaving him standing there like a statue.
For a moment, all he could do was stare at the empty doorway. Then, something inside him snapped. A laugh escaped his lips, low and disbelieving at first, before growing louder.
When he walked out of the lecture hall and joined his friends, they immediately noticed something was off.
âUhâŠwhy are you laughing like a maniac?â Wooyoung asked, leaning away from him as if Jongho had finally lost it.
âDid you finally crack under the pressure?â San teased, though there was genuine concern in his voice.
Jongho shook his head, the grin still lingering on his face. âShe told me I donât study enough,â he said, almost in disbelief, as if saying it out loud would make it sound less ridiculous.
Wooyoung blinked. âWait. She said that?â
âThe nerve,â San muttered, shaking his head.
Mingi, who had been quietly listening, tilted his head thoughtfully. âSoâŠdo you want us to talk to her? You know, scare her a bit? Make her think twice before pulling that again?â
Jonghoâs laughter stopped abruptly. His expression hardened, and he gave Mingi a sharp look. âNo.â
âNo?â Wooyoung echoed, raising an eyebrow.
âNo,â Jongho repeated firmly, crossing his arms over his chest. âIâm not stooping to that level. I donât need to threaten her to get what I want.â
âBut she insulted you!â Wooyoung said, throwing his hands in the air.
âShe didnât insult me. She justâŠâ Jongho paused, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words. âShe got under my skin.â
Yeosang, who had been leaning against the wall silently, finally spoke. âSo what are you going to do about it?â
Jongho exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. âIâm going to beat her.â
âHold up man what-â San frowned.
âIn the next exam,â Jongho clarified, his eyes narrowing with determination. âIâm going to study harder than I ever have, and Iâm going to take that top spot back. She thinks Iâm not studying enough? Fine. Iâll show her exactly what Iâm capable of.â
His friends exchanged glances, a mix of curiosity and concern on their faces.
Wooyoung leaned closer to San and whispered, âI give him three days before he snaps again.â
But Jongho ignored them, his mind already racing with plans. This wasnât just about pride anymore. It was about proving to himselfâand to herâthat he was the best.
When Hanni heard what YN had said to Jongho, she nearly dropped her phone in shock.
âYou told Jonghoâthe cold, terrifying Jonghoâthat he doesnât study enough?â Hanni exclaimed, pacing back and forth in YNâs dorm room. Her voice was a mix of disbelief and panic, her hands flailing in the air.
YN, sitting calmly on her bed, shrugged as she sipped her coffee. âYeah, I did. Itâs the truth, isnât it?â
Hanni stopped pacing and stared at her friend like she had grown a second head. âYN, you donât just say that to someone like him! Do you have any idea who youâre dealing with? This is Jongho! The guy who could probably crush someoneâs desk in half with his bare hands!â
YN smiled slightly, setting her cup down. âYouâre exaggerating. Heâs just another student, Hanni. Besides, itâs not like I insulted him. I gave him constructive criticism.â
âConstructiveâYN, are you listening to yourself?!â Hanni groaned, clutching her head as if she could physically hold in her frustration. âIâm scared for you! What if he gets mad? What if his friends get involved? Theyâre not exactly known for handling things peacefully.â
âItâs fine,â YN said, her tone steady. âI donât think heâs the type to do anything rash over something like this. He seems too...proud for that.â
âProud?â Hanni snorted. âThatâs putting it mildly.â
YN chuckled softly, leaning back against her pillows. âLook, Hanni, I appreciate you worrying about me, but itâs not a big deal. Heâll get over it. If anything, maybe itâll motivate him to work harder.â
Hanni sat down heavily on the edge of YNâs bed, her arms crossed. âI hope youâre right. But if he so much as looks at you funny, Iâm grabbing your hand and running for the hills. Got it?â
YN laughed, nudging her friendâs shoulder. âGot it. But trust me, I can handle myself.â
Hanni gave her a wary look but eventually sighed in defeat. âYouâre way too calm about this. I donât know whether to admire you or scream at you.â
YN just smiled, her confidence unwavering. Little did she know, Jongho wasnât the type to let something like this go unnoticedâand he had no intention of backing down.
Jongho's determination was like a fire, burning through his focus as he buried himself in his books for weeks leading up to the next exam. He studied longer, harderâpushing his limits. He felt the tension, the pressure building in his chest every day. The thought of losing to YN again fueled his resolve. This time, he would prove he was the best.
But when the results came in, his stomach sank.
There it was againâYN's name at the top. Not his.
He clenched his jaw, staring at the paper with frustration boiling inside him. He had done everything right. He had pushed himself to the breaking point. And yet, once again, she had beaten him.
This time, it was different. This time, it wasnât just about pride. Jongho could feel something snapping inside him, the pressure and disappointment manifesting as a tight ball of anger in his chest.
That day in class, he couldnât focus. The words the professor spoke seemed distant and irrelevant, his mind consumed by the crushing weight of defeat. As he stared at the floor, barely registering the lecture, one of his classmatesâsomeone who had clearly noticed his moodâdecided to test him.
The guy leaned over and smirked, a sharp edge to his tone. "So, Jongho, how does it feel to be second to a girl? Maybe you should quit studying and leave it to the real people, huh?"
The words hit Jongho like a punch to the gut.
Before he could even think, he stood up, his chair scraping violently against the floor. His hands balled into fists. He didnât say a wordâhe didnât need to. The guy barely had time to react before Jongho stood up, took the guy's phone, slammed it to the ground, and crushed it under his boot.
The silence in the classroom was deafening.
But it wasnât over.
Once class was dismissed, Jongho stormed out of the building, his anger blinding him. He found the guy outside, lurking near the campus gates, laughing to his friends about how "easy" it was to get under Jonghoâs skin.
Jongho didnât hesitate. He charged at the guy, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him against the nearest wall. The punches came fast and brutal, each one landing with a sickening thud.
The guy didnât stand a chance.
It wasnât until he was gasping for breath, barely conscious, that Jongho stopped. His knuckles were bloody, his anger slowly subsiding as the reality of what he had done set in.
When word of the fight spread through campus, it didnât take long for YN to hear about it.
She had been in the library when a group of students started whispering, talking about how Jongho had beaten up some guy for talking trash about him. Her stomach twisted, and an unease settled in her chest.
The image of the cold, calculating Jongho she had always seen in classâsilent, intense, and distantâwas nothing compared to the picture that now formed in her mind. The guy had provoked him, sure, but it didnât make the violence any less jarring.
That night, as she walked back to her dorm, her mind was racing. Jongho had never struck her as the violent type, but now she wasnât so sure. The thought of him losing control scared her in a way she hadnât anticipated.
YN leaned against the door of her room, her hand lingering on the knob. She wanted to shake the unease off, tell herself it was just a one-off thing. But a part of her couldnât stop wondering what else lay beneath the surface of his cold exterior.
For the first time, she was genuinely afraid.
And as she lay in bed that night, trying to push the thoughts away, one question lingered in her mind: What would happen if he ever lost control around her?
The tension between YN and Jongho had been building for weeks, and it finally reached a boiling point. The news of the fight still fresh in YN's mind, she couldn't shake the unease every time she saw Jongho. His cold, imposing presence was something she'd learned to ignoreâuntil now.
It was an ordinary afternoon when she walked through the halls, lost in thought, heading to her next class. The campus was quieter than usual, most students already in their lecture halls. As she turned down a less-traveled corridor, she froze. Jongho stood at the far end, his broad frame blocking the only way out.
He didnât say anything at first, just watched her with that unreadable expression. YNâs heart rate quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. She could feel the familiar tension rising in her chest, the uneasy flutter of anxiety that crept in whenever she had to face him. But this time, it felt different. She could sense that something had shifted.
She instinctively took a step back, her back pressing against the cold wall. Jonghoâs eyes flickered for a moment, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a scowl. He started walking toward her, each step deliberate, the weight of his presence sending a chill down her spine.
"You really think you're better than me, huh?" Jongho's voice was low, almost menacing. His height loomed over her as he stopped just inches away, trapping her between his muscular frame and the wall.
YNâs breath caught in her throat, but she held her ground. Her legs were tense, her mind racing for a way to escape this moment. "I didnât say that," she replied, her voice shaky but firm. "I just did my best. Itâs not my fault you canât handle it."
Jonghoâs eyes darkened, his arms leaning on the wall beside her, the air between them thick with a charged tension. "You think itâs just about scores?" he growled. "You think I care about that little competition? Youâre making me look weak, YN. And I donât like that."
YN's hands clenched into fists at her sides, her fear and anger mixing into a potent cocktail. I have to stand my ground, she thought. I can't let him intimidate me like this.
"You don't scare me, Jongho," she said, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. Her words were quieter than she wanted, but there was strength behind them. "If you have a problem with me, then deal with it without resorting to violence."
The moment she said it, Jonghoâs smirk widened, a flash of something darker crossing his features. "Oh, but I do have a problem with you. You think you can just waltz in here and take whatâs mine, huh? You think you're better than me because youâre smarter? You think you can just walk around untouched?"
YNâs breath quickened as she realized how cornered she truly was. She had thought she could handle him, but now, with him standing so close, all she could feel was the overwhelming presence of his body. The intimidating way he leaned into her personal space, his arms just above her shoulders, blocking any escape.
"Iâm not afraid of you," she said again, though she could feel the doubt creeping in. She was scaredâterrified, evenâbut she refused to let him see that.
Jongho leaned in closer, his face hovering just inches from hers. "You should be," he whispered. "Youâve made me look like a fool twice now. Youâve gone and crossed a line, YN."
For a split second, she could feel her heart pounding in her throat. Was he going to hurt her? Was he finally going to break the calm facade he always wore? But before she could react, something in him shifted, and his grip loosened just slightly.
âDonât make me do this again,â he murmured, pulling back just enough to leave her with a sliver of space. The tension didnât fully dissolve, but it was a temporary reprieve.
The silence between them was thick, each of them locked in their own thoughts. YNâs mind was racing. What just happened? She had stood up to him, but had it been enough? Would he let this go, or would this feud only escalate?
Jongho finally straightened up, casting one last look at her. "Youâre not getting away with this, you know," he muttered before turning and walking away.
YN let out a breath she didnât realize she had been holding. Her legs were trembling, but she stood tall, refusing to let herself appear weak in front of him.
This was only the beginning. She knew that now. The rivalry between them had officially begun, and it would take everything she had to survive it.
The tension between YN and Jongho simmered beneath the surface, manifesting in small, irritating ways at first. It started with the little thingsâher pens went missing, her notes rearranged in ways that made no sense, and every now and then, sheâd find her books out of order. At first, she thought it was just her imagination, or maybe even her own forgetfulness. But the longer it went on, the more she began to suspect that it wasnât just random.
Then, one day, she was walking between classes when one of Jonghoâs friendsâMingi, she recognized him from classâdeliberately bumped into her, causing her to drop her bag and its contents. Papers scattered across the hallway, and YN scrambled to collect them, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
âOops, sorry,â Mingi said, his tone dripping with false sweetness, though his grin said otherwise.
YN said nothing, biting her lip and standing up straight, trying to keep her composure. She quickly gathered her things, but as she bent down to pick up the last few papers, she saw the same smirk on his face, as if he were enjoying the scene.
It was deliberate, she thought, clenching her jaw as she stood up.
She could feel his gaze still on her as she gathered the rest of her things in silence. But she didnât let it showâshe would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. When she walked away, she could sense his eyes lingering, but she kept her head high.
The following week, she arrived in class to find her desk had been vandalized. Not in a big, obvious way, but enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth. There were scribbles in the margins of her textbooksâcrude drawings, insults, and even a few threatening words that made her skin crawl.
Jongho.
She didnât have proof, but there was no mistaking it. She could feel his influence, like a shadow following her at every turn. And the worst part? It wasnât just him. It was his friends, too. They were all in on itâtargeting her, testing her patience, pushing her to the edge. Theyâd figured out how to get to her without crossing the line too far.
The final straw came one afternoon when she sat down at her desk and found her pencil case had been emptied out. It wasnât just the pens this time; it was everythingâeverything scattered across the floor. When she picked up the pieces, her hands trembling, she saw a note hidden inside.
"Better luck next time, genius."
Her blood ran cold.
This time, it wasnât just annoying. It was personal.
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her fists clenching. She could take a lot of thingsâinsults, small pranksâbut this was pushing it. This was harassment.
YNâs mind raced with determination as she walked through the campus, every step firm and resolute. The pencil case incident had been the last straw. Jongho and his friends had pushed her to her limits, and she wasnât going to let them get away with it any longer.
She had been debating it for days, but now she was certainâshe had to confront him, face to face. She knew it wouldnât be easy. Hanni had tried to stop her, pleading with her to let things go. But YN couldnât back down. She couldnât let herself be intimidated. Not anymore.
She entered the cafeteria with a clear purpose, scanning the room until her eyes landed on him. Jongho sat at the head of a table, surrounded by his friends, laughing and joking as if everything were normal. The sight of him made her blood boil, but she didnât hesitate. She walked straight up to the table, her steps loud and deliberate.
When she reached the center, she slammed her hands down on the table, the sound of it echoing through the cafeteria, drawing the attention of everyone around. The chatter died down, all eyes on her. Jonghoâs friends froze, surprised by the sudden boldness. YN stood there, staring at Jongho with unwavering defiance.
"Stop these pathetic games and face me like a man!" she declared, her voice strong and clear.
The room fell silent, everyone waiting for Jonghoâs reaction. His friends exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what to expect, while Jongho himself leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable.
For a moment, everything felt frozen. Then, slowly, Jongho stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. His height towered over hers, and for a second, the sheer difference in their sizes was almost comical. He was a giant compared to her, and yet, there she was, standing tall and not backing down.
He studied her for a moment, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. His lips curled into that familiar, confident smirk. "So, you want me to face you, huh?" he said, his voice low but full of challenge. "Well, I guess I can give you what you want."
His friends were stunned, clearly not expecting YN to show such boldness. Some of them exchanged worried looks, while others couldnât help but chuckle nervously.
Jongho didnât look worried, though. He stepped closer to her, his towering presence making her feel even smaller. Yet, YN stood her ground, refusing to let her fear show.
âYouâre brave,â Jongho said, his voice rough, but there was something almost impressed in it. "Iâll give you that." He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. âBut be careful what you wish for. You really want me to face you, YN? You sure about that?â
YN didnât flinch. She locked eyes with him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Iâm sure.â
For a long moment, they just stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. The tension between them was thick, palpable. It wasnât about the score anymore, not about the pranks or the harassmentâit was about proving who had the upper hand.
Finally, Jongho broke the silence. He stepped back, crossing his arms. "Alright, YN. Youâve got my attention," he said, his voice cold but not dismissive. "You wanted me to face you. So I will."
The weight of his words hung in the air, and YNâs pulse quickened. This wasnât over. It was only just beginning. She could feel the shift in their dynamic now, the lines of the feud being drawn more clearly than ever.
His friends remained silent, watching the exchange with bated breath. Jongho didnât seem like he was going to back down either, and YN knew this wouldnât end easily. But for the first time in a long while, she felt empowered. She had stood up to him, and he hadnât crushed her. That meant something.
With a final glance at Jongho, YN turned away but not before she threw one last remark over her shoulder.
"Iâm not afraid of you.â
The moment YN turned to leave, feeling the adrenaline of her bold confrontation, she felt a sudden, strong grip on her wrist. Before she could react, Jongho yanked her back with ease, his hand tightening around her wrist as he dragged her out of the cafeteria.
"Hey!" YN protested, trying to pull away, but his grip was unyielding, his strength overwhelming. She tugged harder, her steps stumbling as she struggled to break free, but it was no useâJongho was far stronger than she could have imagined.
The cafeteria had fallen silent, all eyes still on them, but Jonghoâs friends were the only ones who seemed unfazed. They continued their conversation as though nothing unusual was happening. It was clear to YN nowâtheir group operated on a different set of rules, and no one dared challenge them.
Jongho didnât look back, his focus entirely on pulling her out of the building. "Stop resisting," he muttered, his voice low and commanding. "If you wanted to talk, you should've done it differently."
YNâs heart raced in her chest. She had expected a confrontation, but not like this. Being dragged out of the cafeteria, humiliated in front of everyoneâit was more than just a challenge now. It felt like an outright power play, a move to remind her of who really held the control.
âLet go of me!â she shouted again, trying to wrench her arm from his grip, but he didnât even flinch. Instead, he pulled her toward the exit, his jaw set in a hard line.
Once they were outside, the cool air hit her face, but the storm in her chest only grew stronger. She was angry, more than she had been in weeks. She had finally stood up to him, and now he was treating it like some twisted game.
Jongho stopped in the middle of the empty courtyard, releasing her wrist abruptly. YN stumbled slightly, but caught herself before she could fall. Her hand instinctively rubbed where his grip had been, the sting of it still fresh.
"Thatâs the problem with you," Jongho said, his voice cold, but there was an edge to it now. "You think you can just challenge me like that, without consequences? You think you can walk in here and take everything, without anyone pushing back?"
YN glared at him, her pulse still racing. "I didnât want to take anything. I just wanted you to stop being a coward. To face me without all your games."
Jonghoâs expression didnât soften. If anything, it grew more intense. "You donât get it, do you? This isnât just about you and me. This is about who owns this place. Who holds the power."
He took a step closer to her, towering over her as usual. The same sense of intimidation that had always been there was present now, but something in his eyesâa flicker of something deeperâmade her pause for a second.
"What happens next, YN? You think you can win this? Because right now, youâre just poking the bear, and trust me, you donât want to go any further." His voice was dangerously calm, like he was warning herâthreatening her.
For a moment, YNâs breath caught. She had been so focused on proving herself, on standing up to him, that she hadnât considered what would come next. She had no idea what kind of person Jongho really was, and now, facing him in this quiet courtyard, she realized just how deep the game went.
But despite the fear clawing at her chest, she wasnât ready to back down. Not now. Not after everything she had endured.
"Iâm not scared of you, Jongho," she said, her voice unwavering. "You want to play? Then letâs play. But Iâm not going to let you intimidate me anymore."
Jongho stood there for a long moment, studying her as if trying to figure her out. Then, without another word, he turned and began to walk away, his back to her.
But as he reached the entrance to the building, he paused and looked over his shoulder.
"Youâll regret this," he said quietly, his voice carrying an almost unrecognizable note of warning. "You have no idea who you're dealing with.â
YN stood there, watching him go, the weight of his words sinking in. But even with that warning hanging in the air, she wasnât going to back down. Not now.
She had made her choice. And from here on out, she would face the consequences.
The days following their confrontation marked the beginning of something far more sinister than YN had ever anticipated. What started as small pranksâmissing books, random notes, pens vanishing from her deskâsoon escalated into something far more calculated. Jongho wasnât just trying to annoy her anymore. Now, it was as if he were playing a psychological game with her, testing her limits, breaking her down bit by bit.
At first, it was subtle. During class, Jongho would sit behind her and drop her textbooks just enough to cause a distraction, so sheâd lose her focus. When she turned around, heâd act like it was an accident, offering a lazy apology that barely sounded sincere. The worst part was, he didnât stop when she asked him to. Instead, the âaccidentsâ seemed to happen more frequently, each one wearing her down, bit by bit.
Then came the whispers. At lunch, when YN walked into the cafeteria, sheâd overhear Jonghoâs friends whispering just loud enough for her to catch snippets of conversation. Theyâd talk about her in the most degrading way, not even bothering to hide it, knowing she could hear. Sheâd try to ignore them, but every word they said lingered in her mind. They called her a nerd, mocked her for thinking she could take on Jongho. But what stung the most was when they started to question her sanity, insinuating that she was unstable, that maybe she was imagining things.
The insults didnât end there. As days passed, YN would arrive at her locker to find it had been vandalized againâher carefully written notes defaced with sarcastic messages, her books covered in nonsensical drawings, and sometimes, there would be personal remarks, comments that hit too close to home.
She was starting to feel itâthe isolation. The feeling that she was being targeted by something darker than just school pranks. Every time she walked into class, she could feel eyes on her. Jonghoâs eyes. He had made it clear that he enjoyed the game, that he enjoyed seeing her squirm.
But what was worse was how it started to affect her. Sheâd find herself unable to concentrate in class, the constant weight of his presence in the background. She started second-guessing her every move, wondering if her classmates could see the cracks forming in her façade. Her hands trembled when she reached for her books, and she found herself waking up in the middle of the night, heart racing, thinking sheâd heard footsteps outside her door, as if he was watching her even when she wasnât at school.
One afternoon, after a particularly brutal round of pranks in class, YN was heading to the library to get some quiet time. But as she turned the corner, she froze. Jongho was leaning against the wall, blocking her way. His usual smirk was replaced with something darker, a glint in his eyes that sent a chill down her spine.
"Thought you could escape?" he said softly, the words hanging in the air like a threat. "Youâre mine now, YN. Youâre not going to get away from me that easily." His tone was low, but there was a certainty to it, a finality that made her stomach twist.
She took a step back, trying to ignore the panic rising in her chest. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice shaky despite her best efforts to remain calm.
Jongho pushed off the wall and walked toward her slowly, his steps measured. "I want you to understand whoâs in control," he said, his voice quiet but full of malice. "You donât get to come in here, challenge me, and expect it to end like a fairy tale. You want to keep playing? Fine. But you better be prepared to lose. And when you do, Iâll be here to remind you."
Her heart raced as he took another step forward, his presence looming over her. There was no escape, no way to fight back. He had already won in ways she couldnât even begin to comprehend. She stood frozen, a mix of fear and anger coursing through her veins.
She didnât say anything more as Jongho turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with her heart pounding in her chest. The quiet moments after he left felt more oppressive than any of the pranks or insults heâd thrown her way. She could feel the weight of his words settling on her, knowing that he had marked her as his target, and there would be no way to avoid his wrath.
Jongho was playing a game, but this time, it wasnât just about winning or losing. It was about controlâand he was determined to make YN realize just how powerless she truly was.
The day had come. YN could feel herself on the edge, the constant psychological torment, the pranks, the whispers, the humiliationâit had all built up to this moment. Her hands shook slightly as she sat in class, trying to focus on the lecture, but her mind was clouded with frustration. She had been walking around with a constant knot in her stomach for weeks, dreading every moment she stepped into class, every glance that was thrown her way.
Jongho had been especially persistent that day. The moment she sat down, he was there, taking his usual seat behind her. His presence felt like a weight pressing down on her, and she could almost feel his eyes on her back, waiting for the perfect moment to start.
Then, it happened. Just like every other time, he shook her desk, hard enough to make her papers tremble and her drink teeter dangerously on the edge. But this time, something inside her snapped.
Her hand gripped the cup tighter than she realized, the warmth of the coffee almost burning her palm, but it didnât matter. In one swift motion, she turned around and dumped the entire contents of her coffee on Jonghoâs desk. The liquid splashed across his notes, seeping into the wood and staining everything in its path. The room went completely silent.
Jongho froze, his expression blank for a moment, as the coffee soaked into his things. The other students in the class watched in shock, unsure of how to react. YN's breath was coming fast and ragged, her heart racing in her chest. She had done it. She had finally snapped.
Jonghoâs face twisted in anger, but there was something else in his eyesâsurprise, maybe even a flicker of respect. He looked up at her, his jaw clenched.
âYou think this is funny?â he growled, his voice low, dark with frustration.
But YN didnât flinch. She didnât back down. The tension in the room was palpable, but for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of control. Her voice came out calm, but her eyes were fiery.
âDo you think this is funny, Jongho?â she shot back, her words sharp like daggers. âDo you think itâs funny what youâve been doing to me all this time? The pranks, the insults, the mind games? You think Iâm just going to sit here and take it? Well, Iâm done.â
The class was dead silent, no one daring to speak. Jongho didnât respond immediately. Instead, he slowly stood up, towering over her. His friends, who had been silent spectators until now, shifted uneasily in their seats, glancing at each other.
"Youâre really testing me now, YN," Jongho said, his voice controlled but filled with an edge that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "You think this is the end of it? You think dumping coffee on my desk will make me back off?"
YN stood her ground, her posture strong, though inside she could feel a storm brewing. âMaybe it wonât make you back off, but itâll make you think twice. Youâre not invincible, Jongho. And Iâm not afraid of you anymore.â
He stared at her for a long moment, the anger and frustration in his gaze palpable, before he finally spoke again, his voice low but cold.
"Donât think this is over," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "You just made it worse for yourself."
But YN didnât care anymore. She had finally spoken up, finally taken a stand. For the first time, she wasnât the quiet, submissive girl she had been before. She had fought back, and even though she knew things were far from over, a small part of her felt empowered.
As Jongho turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, YN stayed seated for a moment, her heart still racing. She didnât know what was coming next, but she knew one thing for sure: she wouldnât let him control her anymore. She had drawn a line in the sand, and this time, she wasnât going to let him cross it.
As YN and Jongho stood there, the tension between them thickening with every word exchanged, neither of them willing to back down, the professorâs voice cut through the silence like a sharp knife.
"Enough," the professor said, standing up from behind the desk. "Both of you, stay after class. You're clearly not focused on the lesson, so you're going to stay behind and finish your homework together. Youâll leave once you both complete it. Understood?"
The class seemed to hold its collective breath, eyes darting between the two of them. The professorâs order caught both YN and Jongho off guard, but neither could afford to challenge it. Both were still seething from their confrontation, their tempers flaring, but the professor had made it clear that there would be consequences if they didnât comply.
Jongho shot YN one last, heated look, his jaw clenched tightly, before muttering under his breath, "This isnât over."
YN didn't bother to respond. She was too exhausted, emotionally and mentally, to keep fighting. Instead, she gathered her things quickly and retook her seat, ignoring the whispers that started circulating through the room. Jongho, reluctantly, sat down beside her, though the air between them was still thick with animosity.
The professor, seemingly unfazed by the tension between the two students, resumed the lesson, but the entire class was distracted by the palpable conflict unfolding before them. Time dragged on as YN tried to focus on her work, her hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline that still buzzed in her veins. Her eyes kept darting toward Jongho, who was scribbling furiously in his notebook, as though the homework could somehow take his mind off the encounter.
Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, but the professor gestured for them both to stay. The students filed out of the room, leaving just the two of them alone, and the silence between YN and Jongho grew even more awkward. Neither of them spoke as they began working on the homework, the atmosphere charged with tension.
For the first few minutes, it was clear that neither was ready to engage in any form of conversation. YN focused on her paper, trying to ignore the weight of Jongho's presence beside her. But every now and then, she felt the heat of his gaze, the intensity of it making her skin prickle. She couldnât quite shake the feeling that he was still watching her, trying to figure out what she would do next.
Eventually, the silence became unbearable. Jongho broke it, his voice low but dripping with frustration.
"This is your fault, you know," he muttered, his pen tapping against the desk in agitation. "If you hadnât made a scene, none of this wouldâve happened."
YN didnât look up from her paper, her focus unwavering. She had long stopped caring about his blame. "I didnât make a scene. You pushed me to it. I didnât ask for this," she shot back, her voice steady but edged with annoyance.
Jongho let out a low, frustrated growl. "You think I care about your excuses?" he snapped. "You think I wonât make you regret this?"
YN met his gaze, her own expression hardening. "Iâm done with you trying to make me regret everything I do. You donât scare me, Jongho."
For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension crackling between them like electricity. It was clear that neither of them had the intention of backing down, but there was something else, tooâsomething unspoken, a shift that neither could quite understand.
Jongho let out a deep breath, finally turning back to his homework. The air between them wasnât any less tense, but at least it was quiet now, with both of them trying to get through the task at hand.
Time dragged on, and the silence remained. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, YN finished her homework. She stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, and started to gather her things.
"Done," she said curtly, not bothering to look at him as she slung her bag over her shoulder.
Jongho followed suit, packing up his things, but his movements were stiff, like he was still holding something back. He didnât say anything as YN turned to leave, but she could feel his gaze burning into her back.
"See you around, YN," he said, his tone low, a challenge lingering in his words.
YN paused at the door, her hand on the handle. She turned to face him, her expression cold but firm. "Youâll never get me to back down, Jongho," she said, her voice steady. "And one day, youâll realize that."
Without another word, she stepped out into the hallway, leaving Jongho standing there, his fists clenched at his sides, trying to understand the weight of her words. The conflict between them was far from over, but somehow, YN felt like she had taken a small step toward taking back control. She didnât know what would happen next, but for the first time, she felt like she could face whatever came her way.
After that tense punishment session, YN made a firm decisionâshe was done engaging with Jongho. Sheâd had enough of his games, his constant attempts to rattle her, and the exhausting back-and-forth that seemed to follow them everywhere. From that day forward, she resolved to ignore him completely.
She wouldnât look at him during class. If she felt his gaze on her, sheâd keep her head down and focus on her notes. If his friends tried to whisper snide remarks as she passed by, sheâd pretend not to hear. She even started taking different routes to her classes to avoid crossing paths with him altogether.
At first, it seemed to work. Jongho didnât immediately escalate things, and YN began to feel a small sense of relief. Hanni noticed the change too and encouraged her to keep at it.
âItâs the best way to deal with guys like him,â Hanni said one afternoon as they studied together in the library. âThey thrive on attention. If you donât give him any, heâll eventually get bored and move on.â
YN nodded, determined to stick to her plan. She was finally starting to feel like she could breathe again, even if the occasional encounter with Jongho still made her stomach twist.
But, of course, Jongho noticed.
At first, he thought her silence was just a phase, a temporary retreat before she would come back swinging. But as days turned into weeks, he realized she was serious. She wasnât reacting to him at all. No glares, no comebacks, no confrontations. It was like he didnât exist to her anymore.
And it infuriated him.
In class, heâd purposely drop his pen near her desk, just to see if sheâd flinch. She didnât. Heâd make loud remarks to his friends, knowing she could hear, but she never looked his way. Even during group projects, when they were forced to interact, she kept her responses curt and professional, refusing to engage in any unnecessary conversation.
The more she ignored him, the more it ate at him. Jongho wasnât used to being dismissed like this. People either feared him, admired him, or tried to stay on his good side. But YN? She acted like he didnât even matter.
One day, during a particularly dull lecture, Jongho found himself staring at her from across the room. She was diligently taking notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. Something about her calm, focused demeanor made his irritation bubble to the surface. How could she be so unaffected?
After class, as YN packed up her things, Jongho lingered by the door, waiting for her to leave. When she finally stepped into the hallway, he fell into step beside her, his presence impossible to ignore.
âYou think ignoring me is going to make me stop?â he asked, his tone low and almost teasing.
YN didnât even glance at him. âI donât care what you do, Jongho. Do whatever you want. It doesnât concern me anymore.â
As YN took a step to walk away, Jonghoâs hand shot out, grabbing her wristânot harshly, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks. She froze, her eyes darting to where his fingers wrapped around her wrist before snapping up to meet his gaze.
âWhat is it now?â she asked sharply, her voice tinged with exasperation. âI talk to you, you make my life miserable. I ignore you, and now youâre bothering me again. What do you want from me, Jongho?â
Her words hung in the air, cutting through the bustling noise of students in the hallway. Jongho didnât respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he stared at her. For a moment, it seemed like he was struggling to find the right words, his usual confidence faltering.
âIâŠâ he started, but then stopped, his frustration evident. He released her wrist, running a hand through his hair as if trying to compose himself.
âYouâre so irritating,â he finally said, his tone low but not as sharp as usual.
YN blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected response. âExcuse me?â
âYou heard me,â he said, his voice growing more frustrated. âYouâre irritating. You come in here, acting like youâre better than everyoneâ"
âI never acted like that!â YN cut him off, her voice rising. âAll Iâve done is mind my own business and try to survive in this place. Youâre the one who decided to make me your target. And for what? Because Iâm smarter than you? Because I beat you on a few exams? Get over it, Jongho!â
Her words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, Jongho just stared at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. She didnât back down, her chest rising and falling with anger, her gaze steady and unwavering.
âYou donât get it,â he muttered, more to himself than to her.
âThen explain it to me,â YN snapped, crossing her arms. âBecause Iâve had enough of your nonsense. If youâve got something to say, just say it already.â
Jongho looked at her, his expression unreadable. His usual arrogance seemed to waver, replaced by something more vulnerable, though he masked it quickly.
âYouâre the first person whoâs ever beaten me,â he said finally, his voice quieter than she expected. âIâve always been at the top, always been the one everyone looked up to. And then you show up, and suddenly⊠Iâm not.â
YN blinked, her anger softening just slightly. She hadnât expected him to admit that, least of all to her.
âThatâs what this is about?â she asked, her tone incredulous. âYour ego?â
Jonghoâs jaw clenched, and he looked away. âYou wouldnât understand.â
âNo, I do understand,â YN said, her voice firm but calmer now. âYouâre used to being the best, and when youâre not, you donât know how to handle it. But that doesnât give you the right to make my life hell. Iâve worked hard to get where I am, just like you. If you have a problem with me, deal with it in a healthy way. Compete with me in class, not by⊠whatever this is.â
Her words seemed to strike a chord, and for the first time, Jongho didnât have a retort. He just stood there, staring at her, his expression unreadable.
âAre we done here?â YN asked after a moment, her voice steady but tinged with exhaustion.
Jongho hesitated, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
âFine,â she said, turning on her heel and walking away.
Jongho watched her go, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. For the first time, he felt⊠uncertain. He couldnât explain it, but something about her words lingered, gnawing at him in a way that nothing ever had before.
Jongho sat with his friends at their usual spot in the cafeteria, poking at his food absentmindedly. The others were chatting and laughing, but his brooding silence didnât go unnoticed.
Wooyoung was the first to comment, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. âAlright, spill it. Whatâs got you looking like someone stole your protein powder, Jongho?â
âYeah,â Mingi chimed in, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth. âYouâve been weird lately. Is it because of that girl again?â
At the mention of YN, Jonghoâs jaw tightened. He didnât look up, but his grip on his fork visibly tensed.
San raised an eyebrow. âOh, itâs definitely about her. The way you keep glaring at her during class could set fire to her notebook.â
âShut up,â Jongho muttered, shoving a piece of food into his mouth to avoid saying anything more.
But his friends werenât about to let it go.
âItâs not healthy, man,â Yunho said, leaning forward with a concerned look. âYouâre obsessed. Every time she walks into a room, you lose your mind. Whatâs the deal?â
Jongho finally looked up, his frustration bubbling to the surface. âEverything about her bothers me,â he said sharply. âThe way she talks, the way sheâs always so perfect in class, the way she acts like she doesnât care about anythingââ
âOr the way she beat you?â Seonghwa interjected calmly, raising an eyebrow.
Jongho shot him a glare but didnât respond.
âSounds personal,â Wooyoung teased, grinning mischievously. âAre you sure this isnât just⊠you know, a crush?â
The table fell silent for a moment, and Jongho froze, his expression caught somewhere between shock and denial. âWhat?â he said, his tone sharp.
âYou heard him,â Hongjoong said, smirking slightly. âAll this energy youâre putting into her⊠are you sure itâs not something else?â
âNo,â Jongho said immediately, his voice firm. âItâs not like that.â
âAre you sure?â San asked, leaning his chin on his hand. âI mean, itâs classic, isnât it? The whole âI canât stand her, but I canât stop thinking about herâ thing. Sounds like a crush to me.â
âI donât like her,â Jongho snapped, his ears tinging red. âSheâs annoying, and she thinks sheâs better than everyone else. Thatâs all.â
His friends exchanged knowing looks, clearly unconvinced.
âWhatever you say,â Wooyoung said with a shrug, his grin widening. âBut Iâve seen this before. Denial is step one.â
âStep two is overcompensating,â Mingi added with a laugh.
âAnd step three,â Yeosang said smoothly, âis realizing youâve been an idiot the whole time.â
Jongho scowled, shoving his chair back and standing up. âYouâre all delusional. Thereâs nothing going on.â
He grabbed his tray and stormed off, leaving his friends laughing behind him.
But as he walked away, his thoughts betrayed him. Their words replayed in his mind, and for the first time, he wondered if there was a kernel of truth in what they said. No, he told himself firmly. Itâs not that. It canât be.
Still, the idea lingered, unsettling him in a way he couldnât quite shake.
The next day, Jongho walked into college with a heavy sense of unease. His friendsâ words from the day before replayed in his mind like an annoying song he couldnât shake. A crush? On her? The idea was absurdâlaughable even. There was no way that was true.
Yet, as he walked into the classroom and his eyes instinctively searched for her, he felt a strange tightness in his chest when he saw her sitting at her desk, completely focused on her notes. She was chewing on the end of her pen, her brows slightly furrowed, clearly deep in thought.
Jongho shook his head and looked away. No. Absolutely not.
But throughout the lecture, he found his gaze drifting back to her, no matter how hard he tried to stop himself. He told himself he was just observing herânothing more. But every time she raised her hand to answer a question or leaned over to highlight something in her book, he found himself questioning his own thoughts.
Why am I looking at her? Why does it bother me that she doesnât even glance in my direction anymore?
He denied it over and over. Itâs not that. Iâm just annoyed with her. Thatâs all. Sheâs competition, and I donât like losing. Thatâs it.
But then, during a group discussion, she laughed at something one of her friends said, and Jongho froze. It wasnât loud or attention-grabbing, but something about the way her face lit up made him stop and stare for just a second too long. His chest felt⊠weird.
He immediately snapped his head down to his notebook, gripping his pen tightly. No. No way.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, but the thought refused to leave his mind. Every time he saw herâwhether in class, in the hallway, or even at lunchâhis brain kept returning to the same annoying question: Why do I care so much?
By the time the final bell rang, Jongho was more frustrated with himself than heâd ever been. He stormed out of the building, ignoring his friendsâ calls, and headed straight to the gym. He needed to work off this confusion, to get his head back in the game.
But even as he threw punches at the bag, the image of her wouldnât leave his mind. Her voice, her laugh, her determinationâit all haunted him.
And as much as he tried to deny it, a small, nagging voice in the back of his head whispered the truth he didnât want to hear.
Maybe his friends were right.
The evening was calm as YN sat across from Hanni in their favorite cafe, sipping on iced coffee and chatting about everything and nothing. The warm ambiance of the cafe felt like a comforting bubble where YN could momentarily forget about the chaos that had become her college life.
As they wrapped up their time together, Hanni gave her a playful warning. "Donât overthink things, okay? And if that Jongho guy gives you trouble again, call me. Iâllâwell, I canât fight, but Iâll be there for moral support."
YN laughed. âThanks, Hanni. I think Iâll be fine.â
She hailed a cab outside the cafe and slid into the backseat, giving the driver her address. The night was cool, the faint hum of the city filling the silence as the cab moved through traffic. YN rested her head against the window, her thoughts wandering as the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold.
At a red light, the cab came to a halt. Absentmindedly, she glanced out the window, her eyes tracing the silhouettes of vehicles and pedestrians passing by. Then, her gaze locked on a sleek black motorcycle that pulled up beside her.
The bike was spotless, its polished surface gleaming under the streetlights. The rider wore an all-black outfitâleather jacket, gloves, and bootsâand a black helmet that seemed to swallow the light. His presence was almost magnetic, drawing her attention without effort.
And then, as if he could feel her gaze, the rider tilted his head slightly in her direction. He reached up and flipped open the visor of his helmet.
Her breath hitched.
All she could see were his eyes, but that alone was enough to captivate her. They were sharp, intense, and utterly mesmerizing, framed by long lashes that made them look almost unreal. The dim glow of the streetlights reflected in his dark irises, giving them an almost smoldering effect. It was a gaze that carried an effortless power, like he didnât need to say a word to command attention.
It took her a moment to realize she recognized those eyes.
Jongho.
Her heart skipped a beat. He didnât move, didnât say a word, but the weight of his stare was enough to send a shiver down her spine. It wasnât hostile or challenging like she was used to; it was unreadable, calm, yet undeniably strong.
She couldnât look away.
The light turned green, and the cab started moving again, breaking the spell. YN turned her head back toward the window, her mind racing. She could still feel his gaze lingering even as the cab sped away.
What was he doing out here? Why was he on that bike? And why, of all things, did the memory of his eyes make her cheeks burn?
She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. Itâs just Jongho. Stop overthinking it, YN.
But deep down, she knew she wouldnât be able to shake the image of him so easily.
The lecture hall buzzed with excitement as the professor announced the group assignment. "Alright, everyone! Pair up into groups of two for this project. Youâll be working together for the next two weeks, so choose wisely."
YN sat up straighter in her seat, mentally scanning the room for Hanni or anyone else she could team up with. She had barely turned her head to search when someone pulled the chair next to hers with an air of finality.
She glanced over, and her stomach flipped. Jongho.
Without so much as a greeting, he dropped his bag on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "Iâm your partner," he said, his tone making it clear it wasnât up for debate.
YN blinked at him, startled. "You didnât even ask me. What if I already had a partner?"
He raised an eyebrow, his expression indifferent. "You donât."
Her jaw dropped slightly. "And how do you know that?"
Jongho shrugged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "Because I got here first. Problem?"
YNâs fingers tightened around her pen. His confidence was maddening, the way he acted as if he had every right to make decisions for her. "Actually, yes, I do have a problem," she shot back.
He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Too bad. Weâre already partners. Letâs just get this over with."
YN stared at him, torn between frustration and disbelief. Of all people, why did he have to be the one to claim her as his partner?
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Fine. But donât think you can just boss me around, Jongho."
He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost teasing. "Wouldnât dream of it," he said, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.
As the professor continued explaining the assignment, YN couldnât help but glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He sat there, completely relaxed, as if he hadnât just bulldozed his way into her plans.
Two weeks with him, she thought, resisting the urge to groan. This was going to be a long project.
As the lecture ended and the other pairs started discussing their plans, Jongho turned to YN, his expression as composed and commanding as ever.
"Weâll get started this weekend," he said, packing up his things. "Meet me outside campus. Iâll take you to my place."
YN blinked at him, confused. "Your place?"
"Yeah," he said matter-of-factly. "You live in the dorms, right? Too cramped to work there. My place is better."
She hesitated, her instincts screaming that this was a bad idea. "Wait⊠how am I supposed to get there?"
Jongho slung his bag over his shoulder, looking at her like the answer was obvious. "Iâll take you on my bike."
Her eyes widened. "Your bike? No way."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her protest. "Whatâs the problem?"
"The problem," she said, crossing her arms, "is that youâre probably going to crash it on purpose just to mess with me."
At that, Jongho actually laughedâa low, deep sound that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Seriously? You think Iâd risk my bike just to scare you?"
"Yes," she said flatly.
He smirked, leaning slightly closer. "Iâm not crashing my bike, YN. Trust me, I take care of it better than I take care of myself."
She gave him a skeptical look. "Still, I donât think itâs a good idea. I can just take a cab or something."
Jongho shook his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Cabs take too long. Besides, this way, I know youâll actually show up."
YN frowned, feeling cornered. She hated how he always had a way of making her feel like she didnât have a choice. "I donât even like bikes," she mumbled.
"Then itâs about time you got used to them," he said with a smirk. "Iâll pick you up Saturday at noon. Donât be late."
And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing there, staring after him in disbelief.
As much as she wanted to refuse, she knew Jongho wouldnât take no for an answer. She sighed, already dreading the weekend. This is going to be a nightmare.
Saturday rolled around, and YN begrudgingly got ready for the day. She decided to keep it casual but cute, pairing a skirt with a cozy sweater and boots. She knew Jongho would probably make some snarky comment no matter what she wore, but she didnât care.
When she walked out to the dorm entrance, there he wasâleaning against his sleek black bike, arms crossed, looking effortlessly intimidating. His leather jacket fit perfectly, and the helmet tucked under his arm completed the look.
Jonghoâs eyes scanned her from head to toe, and before she could say anything, he raised an eyebrow. "Are you really wearing that skirt?"
YN frowned, her hands going to her hips. "Whatâs that supposed to mean? Are you shitting on my fashion choices now?"
He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, itâs not that. But if you want your skirt to ride up every time we hit a bump and your legs to freeze in the wind, then go ahead. Your choice."
She blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. "Oh, how cute," she said sarcastically. "Youâre looking out for me now?"
Jongho smirked, leaning slightly closer. "Donât get the wrong idea. I just donât want to deal with you whining the whole ride."
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Fine, fine. Iâll change. Youâre so thoughtful," she added with a dramatic flair of sarcasm before turning to head back inside.
As she walked back to her room, she muttered to herself. He really has a way of ruining a perfectly good morning.
As YN walked back out in her new outfit, Jongho was already waiting, his fingers tapping idly against his helmet. When he saw her, he wordlessly handed her a second helmet.
"Put it on," he said curtly.
She took it with a slight glare and slid it over her head, fumbling with the straps under her chin. It wasnât exactly her area of expertise, and she struggled to fasten it securely.
Jongho tsked, stepping closer. "Youâre hopeless," he muttered, reaching out to fix it himself. His fingers worked deftly, fastening the hook with ease. YN stood frozen as he worked, her cheeks warming at the proximity.
"There," he said, stepping back and grabbing his own helmet. "Try not to mess it up."
She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
Jongho climbed onto the bike, motioning for her to get on. Reluctantly, she swung her leg over and settled onto the seat behind him. The bike rumbled beneath them, the vibrations already making her nervous.
"Hold on," he said, glancing over his shoulder.
"No, thanks," she replied stiffly, gripping the edges of her seat instead.
Jongho chuckled darkly. "Suit yourself."
Before she could react, he revved the engine, and the bike lurched forward. YN yelped, her hands instinctively flying to his waist as the sudden acceleration caught her off guard.
"Thought so," Jongho said smugly, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engine.
"Shut up!" she yelled back, her grip tightening as they sped down the street.
The wind whipped past them, and YN had no choice but to hold onto him as they weaved through the city. Despite her earlier reluctance, she couldnât deny that the ride was thrillingâthough sheâd never admit that to Jongho.
As they rode on, she felt a mix of frustration and something she couldnât quite place. Whatever it was, she chalked it up to the adrenaline. For now, she just wanted the ride to end without incident.
The bike came to a smooth stop in front of an upscale apartment complex. YNâs eyes widened as she took in the towering building, its modern design complete with sleek glass panels and a luxurious entrance. It was easily one of the nicest places sheâd ever seen.
"You live here?" she blurted out as she climbed off the bike, staring up at the building in disbelief.
Jongho removed his helmet, shaking out his hair as he turned to her. "Yeah. Why?"
"Why?" she repeated, still gawking. "How can you afford a place like this at your age? Are you secretly some kind of heir or something?"
He smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Wouldnât you like to know?"
YN rolled her eyes, though she couldnât help but feel even more intrigued. She followed him as he led the way to the entrance, her curiosity growing with every step.
The lobby was just as impressive as the exteriorâpolished floors, tasteful decor, and a front desk manned by a professional-looking concierge. She couldnât stop herself from glancing around, taking it all in.
"This is⊠insane," she muttered under her breath.
Jongho glanced over his shoulder, his smirk still firmly in place. "You coming, or are you just going to stand there gawking?"
She shot him a glare and hurried to catch up, determined not to let him get under her skin any more than he already had. But as they stepped into the elevator and ascended to his floor, she couldnât help but wonder just how much she didnât know about him.
As the door to Jonghoâs apartment swung open, YN stepped inside and took a moment to take everything in. The interior was sleek and minimalistic, with a predominantly black and gray color scheme. There was gym equipment neatly set up in one corner, a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a couch that looked both comfortable and expensive. The only thing that stood out amidst the masculine decor was a small potted plant on the windowsill and a couple of oddly cute figurines on the shelf.
"This is so⊠you," YN said, her voice filled with curiosity as she walked further in, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of the sleek black counter in the kitchen. "Gym equipment in the living room, all black interiors, andâwait, are those little figurines?"
Jongho leaned against the doorframe, watching her as she explored his space. "Donât touch those," he said, his voice calm but firm.
"Relax," she said, giving him a playful glance. "Iâm just looking."
Her curiosity and the way she looked at everything with awe made Jongho pause. His arms were crossed, but his gaze softened as he observed her. There was something about the way she movedâso full of energy, yet groundedâthat made it hard for him to look away.
He caught himself staring and frowned slightly. What is wrong with me? he thought.
His mind wandered to his friends' teasing words from before. Did he actually like her, or was she just annoyingly cute today? The way she had stood up to him earlier, the way she looked at him with fire in her eyes, and now the way her curiosity lit up his apartment like she belonged thereâeverything about her was throwing him off.
YN turned around, catching him looking at her. "What?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
"Nothing," Jongho muttered, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "Are you done looking around, or are we actually going to work on this project?"
She raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. "I donât know⊠maybe I should take a closer look at those figurines."
"Donât even think about it," he warned, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
As she laughed and turned back to the desk he had cleared for their work, Jongho found himself wondering just how long he could keep denying whatever it was he was feeling.
As they sat down at the desk to start their project, Jongho found himself unexpectedly captivated by YN. At first, he had been irritated by her sharp tongue and unrelenting determination to beat him at everything. But now, as she leaned over the papers, her brows furrowed in concentration, he noticed the small thingsâhow her hair framed her face, the way her lips pursed as she thought, and how her intelligence shone through every word she spoke.
She was explaining something about their topic, her voice steady and confident. He nodded along, but his focus wasnât on the wordsâit was on her.
Sheâs not just smart, he thought to himself. Sheâs⊠beautiful.
He didnât even realize he was staring until YN looked up, catching his gaze.
"Jongho?" she asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Are you even listening?"
He blinked, quickly snapping out of his thoughts. "Yeah, of course. You were saying⊠something about this part of the project?"
She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but let it slide. "Right⊠anyway, weâll need to gather some more sources for this section."
As the hours went on, Jongho found himself getting more comfortable around her. The way she approached problems with a mix of logic and creativity impressed him, and he started to appreciate her little quirksâthe way she tapped her pen against the table when she was thinking or the way she smiled triumphantly whenever she solved something tricky.
Unbeknownst to him, his initial irritation toward her was transforming into something else entirely. He liked having her around. Her presence, her energy, the way she challenged himâit all felt⊠right.
But he didnât recognize it for what it was. Not yet.
He told himself it was just admiration, just a growing respect for her intelligence. But deep down, something was changing. Jongho was falling, and he didnât even realize it.
Jongho leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms as he scrolled through food delivery apps on his phone. "Iâm starving," he muttered. "Iâm thinking of ordering something. What do you want? Pizza? Burgers?"
When he didnât hear a response, he glanced up, only to find YN wasnât in her seat anymore. Confused, he turned his head and saw her standing in his kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking into the fridge.
"What are you doing?" he asked, getting up and walking toward her.
YN glanced over her shoulder, tilting her head slightly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Let me cook. Donât waste your money."
He blinked, caught off guard. "You can cook?"
"Of course," she said, pulling out a few ingredients she had foundâa carton of eggs, some vegetables, and a pack of noodles. "Itâs not going to be anything fancy, but itâll be better than spending money on overpriced takeout."
Jongho leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched her move around his kitchen like she owned the place. "You donât have to do that," he said, though there was no real protest in his tone.
"I want to," YN replied simply, giving him a quick glance. "Besides, itâs the least I can do since Iâm using your space for this project."
Jongho didnât argue further. Instead, he stood there, watching her as she chopped vegetables with practiced ease. There was something oddly comforting about the sight of her cooking in his kitchen, her focus entirely on the task at hand.
He couldnât help but smile to himself, a rare, genuine smile. This girl really knows how to surprise me, he thought.
As the aroma of the food filled the apartment, Jongho realized that for the first time in a long time, he didnât mind sharing his space with someone else. And as much as he tried to deny it, he was starting to like the feeling.
As YN stirred the pot, she glanced over her shoulder to see Jongho still standing there, arms crossed, watching her like she was a show on TV. She raised an eyebrow.
"Why donât you stop standing there like a statue and help me out, Jongho?" she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.
Jongho straightened up, clearly caught off guard. "Help? Me? Youâre the one who insisted on cooking."
"And youâre the one with two perfectly working hands," she shot back, turning to point the spoon at him. "Come on, big guy. Chop some vegetables or something. Or do you only know how to lift weights?"
His jaw clenched slightly, more out of mock annoyance than anything else. "Fine," he muttered, stepping closer. He grabbed a knife and the vegetables she handed him.
"Careful," she said, watching him for a moment. "I donât need you ruining my masterpiece."
Jongho gave her a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You really like bossing me around, donât you?"
"Someone has to," she quipped, going back to her cooking.
He smirked but didnât say anything, focusing instead on cutting the vegetables as precisely as possible. For a guy who spent most of his free time in the gym or with his friends, he was surprisingly good with a knife.
As they worked side by side in the kitchen, a strange sense of ease settled between them. The usual tension was still there, but it felt lighter somehow, almost playful.
"See?" YN said as she tossed the chopped vegetables into the pan. "Teamwork makes the dream work."
Jongho rolled his eyes but couldnât help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Donât let it go to your head."
But deep down, he couldnât ignore how natural it felt to be here with her, working together like this. And no matter how much he tried to deny it, he liked it. Maybe a little too much.
As they sat down at the coffee table to eat, Jongho casually turned on the TV and scrolled through the streaming options. âMight as well put on something while we eat,â he said, settling on an action movie.
YN nodded, already digging into the meal she had prepared. She took a bite, and at first, everything was fineâuntil the spice hit her. Her face betrayed her struggle as her lips parted slightly, and her eyes darted toward her glass of water.
Jongho noticed immediately. He paused mid-bite, watching her subtle struggle. Without a word, he stood up and walked to the kitchen. YN blinked, confused for a moment, but didnât say anything as she reached for her water.
When he returned, he was holding a small tub of ice cream and a spoon. He set it in front of her without meeting her eyes, sitting back down like it was no big deal.
She looked at the ice cream, then at him. âYou⊠got this for me?â
âDonât read too much into it,â he muttered, focusing on his food. âYou looked like you were about to set your mouth on fire.â
Despite his dismissive tone, YN couldnât help but smile. âThanks,â she said softly, taking a spoonful of the ice cream. The cool sweetness instantly soothed her, and she let out a small sigh of relief.
Jongho glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, pretending to stay engrossed in the movie. But he noticed everythingâthe way her shoulders relaxed, the small smile playing on her lips, the way her eyes brightened as she ate.
It wasnât the first time he had paid attention to her without realizing it, but it was the first time he felt⊠something. A warmth in his chest he couldnât explain.
Why am I doing this? he thought, shoving another bite of food into his mouth as if that would quiet his mind.
Every little thing about her was starting to stick with him. The way she challenged him, the way she surprised him, the way she smiled. And now, the way she sat across from him, enjoying the ice cream heâd fetched without a second thought.
He shook his head slightly, trying to brush it off. Itâs nothing, he told himself. Itâs just⊠habit. Or pity. Or⊠something.
But deep down, he knew it wasnât. Even if he wasnât ready to admit it yet.
pairing : mafia bossâs son! wooyoung x fem! reader
synopsis : You hide your identity to survive the mafia and end up sharing a safehouse with a mafia bossâs son who grows dangerously attached to you.Â
genre : slice of life, mulan au, fluff, mafia au, angst, comfort, romance, little comedy, cross dressing, slow-burn
You learn early that the mafia doesnât care about excuses.
It doesnât care that your fatherâs hands shake too badly to pull a trigger anymore, that the debts he accrued were never meant to be permanent, that the men who now own his life speak in calm voices and smile when they threaten to take fingers instead of money. The mafia only cares that someone pays.
So you do what you have to.
You cut your hair in a bathroom mirror with shaking hands, watching dark strands fall into the sink like pieces of your old life.Â
You bind your chest until breathing becomes something you have to consciously remember. You pick a name that sounds ordinary enough not to be questioned.Â
You lower your voice. You straighten your shoulders. You practice walking like youâve never once been afraid.
And when they ask for a son, you show up as one.
They donât question it. Why would they? Girls donât survive in this world.Â
Girls arenât stupid enough to try.
Youâre assigned a shared apartment three weeks after initiation â a concrete block tucked above a closed bar that smells like smoke and old liquor.Â
Safehouse, they call it. A place for trusted members whoâve proven they wonât talk.
Your roommate arrives late.
Youâre halfway through unpacking when the door swings open without a knock, boots heavy against the floor, presence filling the space instantly.
âOh. They finally gave me one,â someone says.
You turn.
The man standing at the door is exactly the kind of man the mafia rewards.
Pretty in a dangerous way. Sharp-eyed. Loud smile. Relaxed posture that screams he knows how to kill someone and sleep just fine afterward. His suit jacket is slung over his shoulder, shirt sleeves rolled up, knuckles scarred like heâs stopped bothering to hide them.
He looks you up and down.
âYouâre small,â he says.
You freeze for half a second too long.
Then you shrug, forcing a careless grin. âGuess thatâs my tragic flaw.â
He laughs, bright, effortless, and drops his jacket on the chair. âRelax. I donât bite. Much.â He sticks out a hand. âWooyoung.â
You shake it. His grip is warm.Â
Firm. Confident.
You give him your fake name.
âNice to meet you, hyung,â he says automatically, already accepting the lie as truth.
That word sits heavy in your chest.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
Living with Wooyoung is⊠a nightmare.
Not because heâs cruel â if anything, heâs infuriatingly kind in a way that doesnât belong in this line of work.Â
He steals your food but replaces it with something better. He complains nonstop but always shows up first when things go wrong. He hums while cleaning his guns like itâs a normal chore.
He also has no concept of personal space.
He walks around the apartment shirtless like itâs his God-given right, hair damp from the shower, towel slung dangerously low on his hips.Â
He steals your hoodies. Your hoodies.Â
And then has the audacity to say, âWow, hyung, this looks better on me.â
You sleep fully dressed, door locked. You learn to shower only when heâs gone. You learn to hide every flinch.
Wooyoung notices everything.
âWhy donât you drink much?â
âWhy do you always volunteer for lookout instead of close combat?â
âWhy do you sleep like someoneâs gonna stab you?â
You shrug. You deflect. You joke.
He narrows his eyes sometimes, studying you like a puzzle he hasnât solved yet.
But he never pushes.
Instead, he grows⊠protective.
When senior members bark orders at you, Wooyoung steps in. When youâre bruised after training, he wordlessly hands you ice. When other guys get too curious, Wooyoung slings an arm around your shoulders and grins like youâre his.
Itâs confusing.
Worse. Itâs dangerous.
Because somewhere between shared takeout boxes at 3 a.m. and patching each other up after missions, you realize something has shifted.
Wooyoung looks at you like you matter.
And you look at him like youâre forgetting who youâre pretending to be.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
You learn the sound of his footsteps.Â
The way he kicks his shoes off without using his hands. The habit he has of tapping twice on the counter while waiting for the kettle to boil. The way he hums when heâs relaxed â soft, absent-minded, like he forgets heâs dangerous.
The first time you catch him staring, itâs over something stupid.
Youâre sitting on the floor, back against the couch, cleaning your gun. Sleeves rolled up. Focused. You look up because the silence stretches too long.
Wooyoungâs leaning against the doorframe.
âWhat?â you ask, forcing your voice lower.
He blinks. âYou always do that.â
âDo what.â
âThat thing with your hands.â He gestures vaguely. âYouâre really⊠careful.â
You shrug. âKeeps me alive.â
He studies you for another second before grinning. âCute.â
You choke on air.
âDonât⊠donât call me that.â
âWhy?â He pushes off the frame, sauntering closer. âYou blush like youâve been caught stealing.â
âI do not.â
He laughs, loud and bright, and for a second you forget youâre surrounded by people who would kill you without hesitation if they knew the truth.
Then he flops onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees touch.
Too close.
You freeze.
Wooyoung doesnât noticeâor pretends not to. He stretches, arms above his head, shirt riding up just enough to expose skin. Your eyes snap away immediately.
âHey,â he says suddenly. âWhy donât you ever bring anyone over?â
You stiffen. âWhat?â
âEveryone does.â He shrugs. âGirls, mostly. Guys sometimes. Whatever.â He smirks. âYouâre not exactly ugly.â
Your heart slams against your ribs.
âIâm not interested,â you say quickly.
âIn anyone?â
âNo.â
He hums. âWeird.â
You force a laugh. âGuess Iâm boring.â
Wooyoung turns his head, eyes softening in a way that makes your chest ache. âNah. Just⊠different.â
That word follows you for weeks.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
The mafia doesnât ease up just because youâre good.
If anything, it pushes harder.
Youâre useful â quiet, observant, willing to take orders without complaint. You donât drink too much. You donât talk too much. You donât make enemies. People underestimate you, and you let them.
Wooyoung doesnât.
During training, he positions himself where he can see you. During meetings, he sits close enough that his knee presses into yours under the table. During missions, he checks on you constantly.
âYou good?â
âWatch your six.â
âStay behind me.â
One night, after a particularly bad run, you come home with bruises blooming across your ribs.
You donât think heâs noticed until thereâs a knock on your bedroom door.
You hesitate, then open it just enough.
Wooyoungâs eyes drop immediately.
âSit,â he says.
âIâm fine.â
âThat wasnât a suggestion.â
Something in his tone makes you obey.
He crouches in front of you, hands gentle as he lifts your shirt just enough to see the damage. You hold your breath, praying the bindings stay hidden.
His jaw tightens.
âThey shouldnât have put you that close,â he mutters. âYouâre not built for taking hits like that.â
âI can handle it.â
âI know,â he says quietly. âThatâs the problem.â
He tapes your ribs himself, fingers warm, careful. Too careful. He avoids your eyes the whole time.
When heâs done, he lingers.
âYou ever think about leaving?â he asks suddenly.
Your laugh comes out brittle. âLeaving what?â
âAll of this.â He gestures vaguely. âRunning. Starting over.â
You swallow. âPeople like us donât get that.â
He looks at you then â really looks.
âYeah,â he says. âMaybe not.â
But something in his expression says heâs thinking about it anyway.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
The line blurs somewhere along the way.
Itâs late nights on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, exhaustion stripping away pretense. Itâs Wooyoung falling asleep mid-conversation, head tipping onto your shoulder like it belongs there.
Itâs you freezing, heart racing, afraid to move, afraid to want.
You start memorizing him in ways you shouldnât.
The scar under his collarbone. The way his laughter sounds different when itâs just the two of you. How gentle he is when he thinks no oneâs watching.
One night, he wakes up from a nightmare.
You hear it through the wall â a sharp intake of breath, a muffled curse. You knock before you can stop yourself.
âHey,â you say softly. âYou okay?â
He nods too fast. âYeah. Justâ yeah.â
You sit with him anyway.
He doesnât talk about it. Just lets your presence ground him. At some point, he leans forward, elbows on knees, head in his hands.
âYouâre⊠safe,â he says suddenly, not looking at you.
You blink. âWhat?â
âYou make things feel less heavy.â He exhales. âDonât know why.â
Your chest tightens painfully.
Wooyoung laughs weakly. âDonât get weird about it.â
You smile. âToo late.â
He bumps your shoulder. âIdiot.â
You think â distantly â that if things were different, you might love him.
That thought terrifies you.
By the time the rain-soaked mission is announced, everyone knows you and Wooyoung are inseparable.
Thatâs why youâre paired together.
Wooyoung grins when he sees your name next to his. âTold you. Weâre a team.â
You force a smile.
Something in your gut twists.
As you gear up, he tightens the strap on your vest for you, fingers brushing your collarbone.
âYou nervous?â he asks.
âNo,â you lie.
He smirks. âGood. Iâd hate to have to babysit.â
But when you step into the rain, he walks half a step ahead of you â shield without saying the word.
You donât know yet that this is the last moment youâll get to keep your secret intact.
You donât know that the bullet waiting in that warehouse is about to take more than blood.
And WooyoungâŠ
Wooyoung has no idea heâs about to learn the truth in the most brutal way possible.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
The night everything starts to unravel, itâs raining.
The kind of rain that turns the city slick and reflective, lights blurring into something almost beautiful. The mission is supposed to be simple â retrieve a stolen shipment, intimidate the idiots who thought they could resell it, leave.
Wooyoung insists on being paired with you.
âRelax,â he says, clapping a hand on your shoulder. âIâve got you.â
You donât know how to tell him thatâs exactly the problem.
The warehouse smells like metal and oil. Things go wrong fast. Too many men. Bad intel.Â
A gunshot rings out sharp and deafening.
And pain explodes through your side.
You barely register the blood until Wooyoung swears.
âHey. Heyâlook at me.â
His hands are on you, steady, grounding. You try to stand. Your legs give out.
âShit,â he breathes. âYouâre hit.â
You shake your head instinctively. âIâm fine.â
âYou are not fine.â
He half-drags, half-carries you behind cover, firing back with terrifying precision. His jaw is clenched so tight you can see the muscle jump.
When itâs overâwhen the threat is neutralized and backup is on the wayâWooyoung doesnât let go of you.
Not once.
âYouâre not dying,â he says, voice low and furious. âDonât you dare.â
Your vision blurs.
The last thing you hear before everything fades is him calling your name â your fake one â like itâs real.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
When you wake up, youâre in your apartment.
On the couch.
Your shirt is gone.
And Wooyoung is kneeling in front of you, hands red with blood, eyes wide with something that looks terrifyingly close to heartbreak.
âYouââ His voice cracks. âYouâreââ
He stops. Looks at you.
At the bindings. At your body.
At the truth laid bare between you.
ââŠWhat the fuck,â Wooyoung whispers.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
The apartment is silent except for the rain thrumming against the windows.Â
Every drop feels louder than it should, like the world is magnifying the moment. Youâre on the couch, blood still warm against your skin, shirt half undone from his frantic care.Â
Wooyoung is kneeling in front of you, hands trembling as they hover over your wound, eyes wide and dark with something you canât immediately name.
He swallows hard.
His voice is low, ragged, like heâs trying to force himself to speak without shattering. âYouââ
You flinch, expecting anger, disappointment, even disgust. But the words donât come. Heâs frozen, staring.Â
And in that look is something more dangerous: fear.Â
Fear of losing you. Fear of how close he came. Fear that he never truly knew you.
âIâŠâ you breathe, voice small. âI didnât meanââ
âDidnât mean?â he repeats sharply. His hands curl into fists, resting on the edge of the couch. âYouâre telling me all this time⊠you werenât who you said you were. You were lying to me. And Iââ He stops abruptly, jaw tight. His usual playful confidence is gone, replaced by something raw, exposed, human.
Your stomach twists. âI had to. Iââ
âYou had to?â he snaps, and you flinch at the intensity, the sharpness of it. âYou had to hide from me? From me? Do you know what Iâd do if youâif I lost you today?â
You canât speak. Your throat is too tight. Your hands curl in your lap, gripping each other until your knuckles ache. Youâd imagined this moment a thousand times in your headâcoming cleanâbut never like this, with him so close, so raw, so scared.
Wooyoung exhales, shaking his head. ââŠGod, I canâtââ His hands drop to your sides, gentle now, tentative. âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âI didnât want you toââ Your voice cracks. ââŠI didnât want to ruin what we had. I didnât want you to see me like this, weak, vulnerable, lying. I thought⊠I thought youâd hate me.â
For a heartbeat, he doesnât move. Doesnât speak. Just stares, as if trying to burn the truth into his memory.
And then he does the only thing he can: he grabs your hands, holding them against his chest. His touch is strong, insistent, desperate. âI donât hate you,â he says quietly, voice raw with emotion. âDo you understand me? IâGod, I thought I lost you today. You think I care about lies right now? Youâre alive. Youâre here. And thatâs all that matters.â
Your chest tightens. Relief and guilt swirl together, heavy and sharp. âButââ
âNo buts.â He leans back slightly, fingers still gripping yours. His eyes search yours like heâs memorizing you. âYou donât have to lie. Not to me. Not ever.â
The rain drums harder against the window, a chaotic echo of your racing hearts. You want to tell him everything, to spill your fears and regrets, but words fail you. Instead, you simply let him hold your hands, let his warmth seep into you, grounding you after the storm.
A long silence stretches, neither of you needing to speak. The lie is gone. The secret is exposed. And yet, somehow, you feel closer than ever.
âStay with me,â he murmurs finally. ââŠPlease.â
You nod, unable to trust your voice. The weight of the world, the mafia, the danger outside â it doesnât matter in this small apartment, with him, with your truth laid bare.
And for the first time in months, you donât have to pretend.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
The rain has stopped by morning, leaving the streets slick and quiet.Â
Light filters weakly through the blinds, casting stripes across the apartment floor. You wake on the couch, wrapped in one of Wooyoungâs hoodies, his jacket draped over your shoulders.Â
It smells faintly of him â sweat, soap, and something else you canât name.
Your side aches, but the pain is duller now. The wound is bandaged, the worst of the bleeding stopped. You glance toward the kitchen and see him moving around, quiet for once, humming softly as he makes coffee.
He glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. âYou awake?â
You nod, voice hoarse. âYeah.â
âGood,â he says, setting a mug on the table for you. The aroma of strong coffee fills the room, comforting and grounding. âDrink this. You need it.â
You accept the mug, fingers brushing his as you take it. The contact makes you flinch slightly, and you notice him watching, patient, careful not to push. Itâs strange â familiar, but different.Â
Heâs always been loud, teasing, impossible to ignore. Now⊠heâs soft, protective, steady.
His hands wrap around his own mug. âAbout last night⊠Iâm sorry if I scared you.â
You shake your head. âNo. I neededââ You pause, searching for the right words. âI needed you to see the truth.â
He nods, eyes intent. âAnd I needed to know. You donât have to pretend with me anymore you know.â
The weight of those words presses against your chest. Itâs simple, but it carries everything: trust, relief, and the unspoken bond thatâs been building between you for months.
For a long moment, you just sit there, sipping coffee in silence, listening to the faint hum of the city outside. Then Wooyoung leans back, stretches, and smirks â his old teasing self bubbling to the surface, though softer, gentler.
âYou know,â he says, âyou make a terrible âhyung.ââ
You glare at him, but a laugh escapes despite yourself. âOh, shut up.â
âSeriously,â he continues, voice playful but warm, âall that acting, all the sneaky habits⊠Iâve been dying to see who you really are. And now I know. Youâre still⊠trouble.â
You roll your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitch. âGlad to disappoint.â
âNo,â he says, leaning closer, voice dropping to a near whisper. âI like it. You. All of you.â
Your heart stutters. âWooyoungââ
He holds up a finger, teasing but insistent. âShh. Just⊠let me be dumb about this for a second.â
You do. Because thereâs safety in this â in the apartment, in him, in the honesty youâve finally shared. You let him exist in this space with you, without pretense, without lies.
Later, heâs behind you on the couch, arms draped over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your arms. You lean into him, letting the warmth sink in. Itâs quiet. Domestic. Ordinary. And in a world of bullets, blood, and lies, it feels like a miracle.
âYouâre staying, right?â he murmurs against your hair.
âAlways,â you whisper back.
âAnd no more secrets,â he says softly. âI donât care what anyone else thinks. You tell me everything.â
âI will,â you promise.
He grins, tugging you closer, playful again but tender. âGood. Because I donât do well with mysteries. And honestly⊠I donât think I ever want to.â
He leans down, brushing his lips lightly against yours, a tentative kiss that carries everything: relief, care, longing, and promise. You respond instinctively, pressing closer, letting the warmth of this fragile, battered world surround you both.
And for the first time in months, maybe years, you feel like you can breathe.Â
Like maybe â just maybe â surviving this world isnât about pretending anymore. Itâs about finding someone whoâll stand by you, no matter what.
âââââââââ ââ ââ â
âââââââââ
Weeks have passed since the warehouse mission.Â
Your side has healed, the bruises fading into pale memories, and the sharp sting of bandages replaced by the soft ache of muscle soreness.Â
The apartment feels⊠alive again.Â
Not in the chaotic, adrenaline-filled way of missions or gunfire, but in small, ordinary ways: the smell of coffee brewing, the low hum of the fridge, the faint tapping of Wooyoungâs boots as he walks from room to room.
Heâs become impossibly domestic.
One morning, you stir awake to the sound of clattering pans.Â
Groaning, you peek over the edge of the bed. Wooyoung is in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, apron dusted with flour. âEggs, pancakes, and your favorite coffee,â he announces without looking up. âIâm basically a chef now. Youâre welcome.â
You groan, burying your face in the pillow. âYouâve turned into a housewife mafia boss.â
He glances over his shoulder, smirking. âHousewife? Nah. More like personal bodyguard-slash-domestic god. Big difference.â
By the time you stumble to the kitchen, heâs plating the food with a pride that makes you laugh despite yourself. He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you like a golden retriever waiting for approval. âSit. Eat. I said Iâd make sure you donât starve, didnât I?â
You do, and he doesnât leave your side. He teases, he fusses, he watches you drink coffee, waits until you laugh at one of his dumb jokes before allowing himself a small smile.
After breakfast, he sprawls next to you on the couch, tossing a blanket over your shoulders. âMission prep tomorrow,â he says casually, but thereâs no edge to his voice. Just routine. âBut today? Today we chill. You, me, maybe that ridiculous action movie you like.â
You rest your head against his shoulder. âDo you ever stop?â
âStop caring about you?â he says, mock offense in his tone. âNever.â
The city outside hums, indifferent as always. But inside, the apartment is warm. Safe. Yours.
At night, he curls around you, the apartment dimly lit, rain drumming gently against the windows. âYou know,â he murmurs, voice soft, teasing, protective all at once, âI could get used to this. Waking up with you here, seeing that youâre okay, not having to fight every day just to keep each other aliveâŠâ
You press a soft kiss to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. âWeâll survive. Together.â
He grins, a lazy, content smile. âGood. Because Iâm not letting you out of my sight again. Ever.â
And as you drift to sleep, wrapped in warmth, safety, and trust, you realize that surviving the mafia, surviving the lies, surviving the world outside â it was never about being strong alone. It was about finding someone whoâd stay.Â
Someone whoâd protect, tease, and love you fiercely, unconditionally.
Wooyoungâs lips brush your forehead, soft, light, and certain. âSleep well, trouble,â he whispers.
And for the first time in months, maybe years, you do.
Because in this small apartment, with him by your side, nothing else matters.
Summary : Yunho has spent his life surviving hospitals and learning how to keep his heart closed. When heâs forced to share a room with Y/N, a girl whose warmth feels painfully out of place among white walls and monitors, something shifts. Unbeknownst to him, beneath Y/N's smile lies an unexpected fragility, a quiet truth that she hides even as she brightens every corner of the room.
Warnings : alternative universe, major character death, terminal illness, hospital setting, emotional distress, grief and loss, mentions of medical procedures, unhealthy coping mechanisms, themes of abandonment, sad ending.
*Y/N = your name
Tags : @uchihabbynic
A/N : This is not read proof and English is not my first language, so you might find some typos here and there.
Enjoy âĄ
MINORS DNI â MINORS DNI â MINORS DNI
Yunho hated hospitals, yet somehow they had always felt like a second home, not a home of comfort or healing, but a place he was forced to return to, again and again. Living with a heart condition, he had spent most of his life drifting through white corridors and sterile rooms, learning medical terms before he ever learned how to make friends. The steady beeping of machines was more familiar to him than laughter.
People noticed. They whispered. They stared. And eventually, they stepped away.
Weak. Freak.
Words that came easy for those who didnât have to count their own heartbeats. So Yunho stopped trying. He built thick, cold walls and distance became his safest habit.
Cold. Distant.
Two words that now described him perfectly.
This time was no different. Or so he thought.
The nurse wheeled him into the room with practiced ease, the door clicking softly shut behind them. A shared room. Again. Yunhoâs jaw tightened. He already knew how this would go. Awkward silence, polite avoidance and relief when one of them finally left.
As expected, the room wasnât empty.
A girl sat on the bed by the window, legs tucked close to her chest, fingers tapping softly against the mattress as if counting a rhythm only she could hear. When she looked up, her eyes met his without hesitation. And... she smiled.
Not the cautious smile people offered once they noticed the monitors. Not a smile tinged with pity or discomfort. It was warm. Open. Real.
âHi!â she said, her voice light, almost cheerful. âLooks like weâre roommates.â
Yunho didnât answer. His gaze drifted to the opposite wall, feigning interest in the IV stand rather than in her. People like her, bright, talkative, kind, never lasted. They always left first.
Still, she didnât seem discouraged.
âIâm Y/N.â she said, adjusting the blanket around her legs. âWhatâs your name?â
Yunho shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair, avoiding her gaze, his hands gripping the armrests a little too tightly.
âI promise Iâm not going to bite.â Y/N said with a laugh, as if sensing his tension. âOr run away. Or make things awkward.â
Yunho looked at her, his expression unreadable. He said nothing.
âOkay.â she continued, undeterred. âThen Iâll just talk to myself. I do that sometimes anyway. Helps pass the time.â She tilted her head and smiled again, bright and effortless, like sunlight through a window.
âY/NâŠâ the nurseâs voice cut gently, a soft warning in her tone as if reminding her to keep it down. Y/Nâs cheeks warmed and she let out a small, airy giggle.
âOops, sorry Linda.â she said, still smiling. âIâve been in this room alone for so long. I guess Iâm just excited to finally have a roommate.â
The nurse, Linda, gently helped Yunho out of his wheelchair, guiding him toward the bed. He moved stiffly, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the floor.
âHere we go." Linda said softly, adjusting his pillows and blankets. âMake yourself comfortable.â
Yunho nodded curtly, not meeting anyoneâs gaze. Once the nurse stepped out, he laid back, arms still crossed, staring at the ceiling.
âHi again!" Y/N said cheerfully, shifting slightly on her bed to face him. âYou must be tired from the move. I can be quiet if you want-â
âIâm fine.â Yunhoâs voice was flat, distant, almost clipped. He didnât look at her, didnât offer even a hint of acknowledgment.
Y/N blinked, a little taken aback, but she didnât falter. She leaned back against her pillows, smiling softly. âOkay⊠I can be quiet." she said, letting her words trail into the room like a small, gentle breeze.
Yunho remained silent. The room was filled with the soft hum of machines and the occasional creak of the bed. She tried again after a few moments, humming a quiet tune to herself, tilting her head to watch the sunlight slide across the floor.
He didnât respond.
********************
Yunho woke abruptly, the sunlight harsh in his eyes and the faint sound of humming from the night before still ringing in his ears. He groaned, burying his face in the pillow. She had been talking. All night. Softly, yes, but persistent. Even in the dark, she filled the silence and he had not slept properly.
He rolled over, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw rigid. His muscles ached, his chest felt heavy and every instinct screamed at him to stay as far away as possible from her relentless energy.
âMorning.â Y/N said, already sitting up, her voice bright and cheerful. âDid you sleep okay?â
Yunho didnât move. He didnât answer. He didnât even glance at her. The only response was the tightening of his jaw and a low, grumbly sound that was as close to words as he would get.
âOh⊠Iâm sorry if I-â she began, but he cut her off.
âJust⊠leave me alone.â he said flatly, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. There was no anger in his tone, only cold, bone-deep indifference. No invitation to conversation, no warmth.
Y/N blinked, a little startled, but her smile didnât falter. âOkay...â she said softly, shifting slightly, careful not to disturb him further.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, arms crossing tighter. The sunlight felt intrusive. Her voice felt intrusive. Her presence felt intrusive. He didnât care about her optimism, her energy or her friendly questions. He didnât care about anything.
After a long, tense silence, Y/N tried again, cautiously. âCan I ask⊠what kind of heart problem you have?â
Yunhoâs jaw tightened even further. His eyes snapped toward her, sharp and cold.
âWhy do you care?â he asked, his voice low but sharp, carrying an edge that made the air between them feel heavier. âDoes it matter to you?â
Y/N flinched slightly, startled by the sudden intensity, but she didnât retreat. âI⊠I just wondered.â she said softly, keeping her tone light, careful not to provoke him further.
âJust wondered?â he repeated, almost incredulous, a bitter laugh escaping him. âYouâre in a hospital, surrounded by machines that keep people alive and youâre just wondering about me?â
Y/N hesitated, unsure how to respond. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the frustration coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. She swallowed and forced a smile. âYes⊠I guess I am. I like knowing the people around me. Thatâs all.â
He let out a harsh, short sigh, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. âIâm not your project.â he said flatly, irritation dripping from every word. âIâm not here for your curiosity. I donât talk about this stuff. Never have, never will.â
The words hit the room like ice. Y/Nâs smile faltered for just a moment, but she recovered, tilting her head slightly. She could see the walls he had built, thick and unyielding and she knew pressing further would only push him away.
Still, her voice remained calm, quiet, almost gentle. âOkay⊠I understand.â she said softly. âI wonât ask again.â
Yunho let out a short, frustrated grunt and turned fully onto his side, arms crossed, back to her. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, each one deliberate, controlled. He didnât want to acknowledge her, didnât want to see her, didnât want to deal with her presence at all. For now, the barrier was complete, cold, rigid, untouchable.
Y/N shifted slightly, letting the silence settle, careful not to disturb him. She watched quietly, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes avoided hers completely. She didnât push. She waited.
And for Yunho, the room finally fell into a tense, suffocating quiet, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines, a reminder that the world continued outside his carefully constructed walls.
********************
Days passed and Yunho only grew colder. His words became shorter, his glances sharper, his walls thicker. He moved through the motions of hospital life without interest, without connection and without care for anyone around him.
Y/N watched quietly, noting the tension in his posture, the way he flinched at the smallest sound, the way his eyes never lingered on her or on anyone. Yet, despite his distance, she observed, learned and quietly pieced together the fragments of his life.
One afternoon, while a nurse stepped out for a moment, Y/N managed to overhear a snippet of conversation between Yunho and the attending doctor. His name, the word congenital and something about lifelong condition floated into her ears. She didnât press him, didnât comment. She didnât let him know she had heard.
But the information settled in her mind, quietly, like a small key unlocking a part of him no one else had bothered to notice. He wasnât just distant or cold by choice. He carried a burden, one that had shaped his life, one that had forced him into solitude and mistrust.
She looked at him then, sitting rigidly in his bed, arms crossed, jaw tight and for the first time, her bright smile softened. She didnât speak. She didnât move. She just watched, letting him exist exactly as he was, knowing that this knowledge, though small, was a bridge, if only he ever chose to cross it.
********************
It was Wednesday. The day began badly and only grew worse.
Yunho woke with his chest tight and aching, every breath irritatingly shallow.
The machines felt louder than usual, the room smaller, the walls too close. A doctor had come in early, speaking in that calm, practiced tone Yunho despised. Adjustments. Monitoring. Long term management. Words that reminded him there was no end to this.
By the time the door closed again, his jaw was clenched so tight it hurt.
Y/N noticed immediately. She always did.
âYou look upset.â she said softly, carefully, as if her words might shatter something fragile. âDid something happen?â
He said nothing.
She hesitated, then tried again. âIf you want to talk about it-â
âStop!â Yunho snapped suddenly, turning toward her, irritation sharp in his eyes. âJust stop.
Y/N froze. âI was just-â
âNo, you werenât!â he cut in, his voice harsher now, frustration spilling over. âYouâre always watching me. Always asking. Like Iâm some kind of problem you need to understand.â
âWhat?" she chuckles, visibly nervous. "Thatâs not what I meant and you know it, Yunho.â she said quietly.
âWell, thatâs how it feels." he shot back. âI didnât ask for your concern. I didnât ask for your questions. I donât need them. Every time I turn around, youâre there. Watching. Listening. Asking things you have no right to ask.â
Y/N swallowed. âI... I just wanted to-â
âYou just wanted what?â he interrupted sharply. âTo feel better about yourself? To pretend youâre helping?â He let out a short, bitter laugh. âYou donât know anything about me.â
âI never said I did.â she replied softly, her voice barely holding.
âBut you act like you do.â he snapped. âLike you see through me. Like you understand what this is.â He gestured vaguely at his chest, his monitors, the room. âYou donât. You never will.â
The words came faster now, fueled by frustration he had no other place to put.
âYou think asking a few questions makes you close to someone?â he continued coldly. âThis isnât some temporary thing. This isnât something I get over. This is my life. And Iâm sick of people looking at me like Iâm fragile, or interesting, or something they can figure out.â
Y/Nâs fingers curled slowly into the blanket. Her chest tightened, a sharp, familiar pressure blooming beneath her ribs. She forced herself to breathe evenly.
âI wasnât trying to analyze you.â she said quietly. âI was just trying to be kind.
âThen stop!â Yunho said harshly. âBecause I donât want it. I donât need kindness from a stranger whoâs bored and stuck in the same room as me.â
That one hurt.
She felt it immediately, a dull ache spreading through her chest, her heart stumbling slightly before correcting itself. She shifted subtly, pressing her palm against her sternum for just a second before letting it fall back to her side.
âIâm not bored.â she whispered.
âNo?â he huffed. âPlease. I heard you talking to other patients in the hallway. Laughing. Smiling. Youâre here for a routine check, arenât you? Youâll be gone soon.â His lips curled slightly. âYou know nothing about real heart problems.â
Her fingers curled at her side. The ache in her chest lingered, dull but insistent, like a warning sheâs learned to ignore.
âThatâs not true.â she said softly. âYou donât know why Iâm here.â
âIâm not playing anything." she replied. âI just-â
âDonât." he snaped. âDonât lie to me.â
He sat up despite the protest in his body, anger fueling him. âIâve been in hospitals my whole life. I know the difference between someone whoâs sick and someone whoâs just passing through.â
Her breath stuttered, but she kept her voice steady. âBeing kind doesnât mean I donât belong here.â
He scoffed. âKind?â He shook his head slowly. âYou think kindness fixes this?â He gestured vaguely at his chest, at the wires, the monitors, the life he never asked for. âYou think smiling makes it better?â
âI never said that.â
âYou donât have to.â he said sharply. âItâs written all over you. You look at me like Iâm something broken you can cheer up.â
âThatâs not how I see you.â she sighed, her voice soft, almost pleading now.
âThen stop looking at me like that!â he growled. âStop pretending you understand. You donât wake up every day wondering if your heart will give out before nightfall. You donât live waiting for the next bad result, the next surgery, the next disappointment.â
Her chest tightened again, stronger this time. She pressed her lips together, fighting it.
âYouâll walk out of here." he continued, voice low and cruel. âGo back to your normal life. And Iâll still be here. So donât act like weâre the same.â
Silence crashed down between them.
Y/N turned away slowly, facing the window. Her shoulders drew in, as if she were making herself smaller. She kept her breathing steady, even when the ache in her chest deepened, sharp and familiar. She swallowed hard, blinking slowly until the sting behind her eyes faded.
She did not cry.
She did not argue.
She smiled faintly at the glass, as if nothing had happened.
The rest of the day passed in uneasy quiet. Yunho stayed rigid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, convincing himself he felt relieved. Y/N barely spoke, her usual brightness dimmed, her energy muted. She moved slower, more carefully, pausing now and then as if catching her breath, though she always brushed it off with a soft smile when a nurse glanced her way.
By evening, the pain had settled deep in her chest.
It wasnât sudden. It never was. It came like a slow tightening, a pressure that made every breath feel heavier than the last. Her heart fluttered unsteadily, each beat reminding her of the truth she refused to say out loud.
She lay back on her bed, one hand pressed lightly over her chest beneath the blanket. Her face remained calm, composed. Her breathing stayed shallow but controlled.
Yunho didnât notice.
Or if he did, he chose not to.
When the lights dimmed and the room fell quiet, Y/N stared up at the ceiling, counting her breaths, then her heartbeats.
She focused on keeping her body still, her expression peaceful. She would not call for help. She would not worry anyone. She had promised herself that much.
Across the room, Yunho turned slightly in his bed, irritation still lingering beneath his skin. He told himself the silence was better. That distance was safer.
He did not see the way her fingers trembled beneath the blanket.
He did not hear the quiet hitch in her breathing.
And Y/N made sure he never would.
********************
The following days, something changed.
Y/N changed.
Not drastically. Not in a way that screamed something was wrong. But enough to be felt.
She stopped asking how Yunho felt in the mornings.
Stopped commenting on the machines, the IV lines, the numbers blinking on the monitors.
Stopped filling the silence with small, warm observations meant only for him.
She gave him space. Exactly the kind he had demanded.
And yet, she remained the same with everyone else.
She laughed with the nurses. Chatted easily with other patients in the hallway. Her energy stayed bright, effortless, almost contagious, just not for him.
With Yunho, she was⊠polite.
âGood morning.â she said, offering a small, controlled smile.
âGood night.â
Nothing more.
She no longer lingered in his presence.
She no longer tried.
And that, somehow, unsettled him more than her persistence ever had.
Because this silence was different. It wasnât empty, it was heavy. As if something vital had been removed from the room, leaving behind a hollow space he couldnât ignore.
Yunho told himself he preferred it this way.
Quiet meant control. Distance meant safety. People couldnât leave if you pushed them away first.
And yet...
His gaze drifted, uninvited, to the other side of the room. Y/N sat curled slightly toward the window, humming under her breath as she flipped through a magazine, her expression soft, peaceful. Not trying. Not waiting. Not looking at him.
She had listened.
The realization settled in his chest like a slow, uncomfortable weight.
This was familiar.
Too familiar.
He had done this before.
To people who had tried to be kind, only to stop after his short answers and sharp looks.
To nurses who had learned not to linger near his bed.
To his own parents, years ago, who had waited for him outside the hospital room until Yunho told them to stop coming.
One by one, they had all stepped back.
Just like her.
Because of him.
His fingers curled against the sheets, knuckles whitening. He stared at the ceiling, but the thought wouldnât leave him alone.
'This is why youâre alone.' he thought.
Not because they didnât care.
Not because they couldnât understand.
But because he never let them.
He swallowed, jaw tightening, irritation flaring, not at her, but at himself. He had snapped at her, dismissed her, reduced her to something shallow and harmless, as if her kindness had been an inconvenience rather than a choice.
And now she had taken her warmth with her.
Exactly as he had asked.
A quiet, bitter irony twisted in his chest.
Across the room, Y/N laughed softly at something on the page, the sound light and genuine. It didnât reach him anymore.
And for the first time in a long time, Yunho wondered if the problem had never been other people walking awayâŠ
âŠbut him, pushing them out before they ever had the chance to stay.
********************
The next morning felt wrong.
Not loud. Not tense. Just⊠off.
Yunho woke before the nursesâ rounds, staring at the pale light creeping through the blinds. For a moment, he lay still, listening. No humming. No soft talking. No cheerful commentary about the weather or the terrible hospital coffee.
He turned his head.
Y/N was awake, sitting on her bed with her legs pulled close, scrolling through her phone. She looked calm, composed. Happy, even. But it was quieter now, like her energy had learned where it wasnât welcome.
The sight unsettled him more than her chatter ever had.
He cleared his throat.
The sound was small, rough, like it hadnât been used in a while.
She didnât look up.
His jaw tightened. He tried again, this time forcing the words out.
âDid you⊠sleep?â
It wasnât even a proper question. More like a statement, unfinished and awkward.
Y/N froze for half a second before turning toward him. Her smile came easily, practiced, bright.
âYeah.â she said lightly. âLike a rock.â
A lie. He didnât know how, but he felt it.
He nodded once, eyes flicking away. Silence stretched between them again, thicker this time. His fingers tapped against the mattress, restless.
She waited.
That was the worst part. She wasnât pushing anymore.
âI didnât mean... â he started, then stopped. His chest tightened, irritation and guilt tangling into something he didnât have a name for. âWhat I said, I-"
Her smile didnât fade, but it softened.
âItâs okay.â she said quickly. Too quickly. âYou were having a bad day.â
He frowned, glancing at her again. She was already turning back to her phone, giving him an easy escape.
And somehow, that made his stomach twist.
âNo.â he said, sharper than he intended. âI was an asshole.â
The word hung between them, heavy and unfamiliar.
Y/N blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. âThatâs⊠one way to put it.â
He huffed, a breath that almost sounded like a scoff, almost like a laugh. Almost human.
âIâm not good at⊠this.â he admitted, eyes fixed on the floor. âPeople.â
âI noticed." she said gently, no accusation in her voice.
Another pause.
Then quieter, he asked.
âSo... What were you listening to last night?â
She looked at him again, really looked this time, her eyes lighting up.
âOh, a playlist. Old songs. Stuff that makes you feel like everythingâs going to be okay even when itâs not.â
He nodded slowly.
âDoes it work?â
She smiled. âSometimes.â
For the first time since heâd been admitted, Yunho didnât immediately shut down the conversation.
It wasnât warmth.
It wasnât closeness.
But it was a crack.
And Y/N noticed.
She watched him for a moment, her expression thoughtful, almost distant, as if she were weighing something carefully. Then, without looking directly at him, she spoke.
âTell me, Yunho... â she said suddenly. âIf you knew you didnât have much longer to live, what would you do?â
The question landed heavy.
He stiffened instantly, muscles locking, his fingers curling into the blanket. His first instinct was irritation. Deflection. Walls snapping back into place.
âThatâs a stupid question.â he muttered.
She didnât react. Didnât flinch. She just shrugged lightly, eyes still fixed on the window.
âMaybe.â she said. âBut humor me.â
Silence stretched.
The machines hummed steadily, indifferent.
Yunho swallowed. His throat felt tight, his chest uncomfortable in a way that had nothing to do with his heart.
âI donât think about that.â he said finally. âThereâs no point.â
She turned toward him then, head tilted slightly. âReally?â
âYes.â he snapped, sharper than intended. âThinking about dying doesnât change anything. It just wastes time.â
Her lips curved into a faint smile, one that didnât quite reach her eyes.
âInteresting.â she murmured.
He frowned. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means youâre trying very hard not to answer.â she chuckles softly.
His jaw tightened. He looked away.
âIf I didnât have long... " he said after a moment, voice lower now, rougher. âIâd probably do exactly what Iâm doing now.â
She blinked. âMeaning...â
âSurviving." he replied. âGetting through each day. Keeping people at a distance so it doesnât hurt when they leave.â
Her smile faded, just a little.
She studied him, something aching and fond flickering across her face. She nodded once, accepting his answer as if it confirmed something she already knew.
âI think... " she said softly. âIâd do the opposite.â
He glanced at her despite himself. âOf course you would.â
She laughed lightly. âIâd talk more. Laugh louder. Love harder. Iâd make sure no one could forget me.â
His chest tightened again.
âEasy for you to say.â he scoffed. âThatâs just how you are. Youâre always happy, always smiling, befriending everyone.â
She didnât interrupt.
âYou know nothing about-â he stopped, jaw tightening, swallowing hard as if the words burned on the way up. His fingers dug into the blanket. âYou donât know what it feels like to be seen as a freak just because you have a condition you didnât ask for. To watch people mock you, whisper about you, and then leave the moment things get inconvenient.
His voice cracked despite his effort to keep it flat.
âTo realize youâre something they tolerate, not something they choose.â he continued, breath shallow now. âSo yeah. Loving harder sounds nice. But it doesnât work when people decide youâre broken before they even know you.â
Silence followed.
Y/N didnât look hurt.
She just... Smiled.
âYunho... â she said softly, voice steady, âSince when were you supposed to live your life for other people? Itâs your life for a reason. You should enjoy it nonetheless.â
He stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, not sure if he wanted to hear more.
âI mean...â she continued, tilting her head slightly. âYou donât have to please anyone or pretend to be someone youâre not. You donât have to hide yourself to make other people comfortable. You can take a step outside, eat something you like, read a book just for yourself, laugh at something silly, even if no one else is watching. You can be selfish sometimes. Not in a bad way, just in a way that keeps you feeling alive, despite everything. Thatâs what I mean by enjoying it.â
He stayed silent, shoulders tense, fists clenching the sheets. Her words pressed against a wall he had built so carefully.
âAnd... look at me.â she added softly, letting her gaze drift toward him without meeting his eyes fully. âI laugh, I joke, I make friends, I bother people sometimes." she chuckled. "But I do it because I want to, not because anyone expects it from me. Even here, I choose how to spend my time. Thatâs all Iâm saying. Thatâs all anyone can do.â
Her smile remained calm, sincere, even warm. Not for him, not demanding, just there.
âWellâŠâ He swallowed hard, voice low, rough. âHow am I supposed to change my mindset? I always think of the worst things. I donât let people in anymore. IâŠâ His words faltered, the familiar tightness in his chest making each breath uneven. "I donât know how to trust anyone without getting hurt.â
âYou donât have to trust everyone.â she said softly. âYou donât have to let every person inside. But maybe⊠start small. Tiny things. A word, a smile, a little moment of patience for yourself. Thatâs how you rebuild. One step. One choice at a time.â
He looked away, jaw tight, fingers curling against the blanket. Her words should have annoyed him. They should have felt naive. But they didnât. Somehow, they pressed against the walls heâd built, like wind forcing its way into cracks in stone.
âAnd what if people leave anyway?â he asked quietly, almost bitterly.
âThen they leave.â she said, calm, unshaken. âBut at least youâll know you tried. At least youâll have lived your way, not just survived it.â
He stayed silent, swallowing hard again, the weight of her simplicity pressing into him in a way no anger ever had.
And for the first time that day, Yunho felt the faintest tug of⊠possibility. Something he hadnât allowed himself to feel in years.
********************
The days that followed felt different. Not drastically, not like a sudden change, but like a current beneath the surface that neither of them could ignore.
Yunho still kept his walls, still answered with clipped words, still avoided long looks. But he noticed her. He noticed the way her fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the bed when she was thinking. The way her smile reached her eyes even when she was silent. The way she laughed at small, absurd things that no one else would have found funny.
And slowly, he found himself leaning just a little closer when she spoke, listening a little longer, even joining in when she cracked a joke.
Y/N, in turn, gave him space, just as she had before, but she also let herself be present in the quiet moments. Sheâd hum softly while reading, occasionally sharing a lyric or a thought with him, not demanding a response, not expecting him to laugh, just letting him hear her. And somehow, he started to respond, small gestures at first. A nod, a grunt of acknowledgment, a fleeting glance that lingered a fraction too long.
One afternoon, she handed him a book she thought heâd like. He hadnât asked, hadnât expected it, but the gesture made something shift in him. He looked at her briefly and the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before he caught himself.
âThanks.â he muttered, almost gruffly.
âYouâre welcome." she said, smiling gently, letting the moment linger without pushing.
Little by little, Yunho found himself talking more, not about feelings, not yet, but about small things, things that mattered less and less but were still a bridge between them, like the absurdity of hospital food, a song stuck in his head, a joke he remembered from years ago.
And Y/N listened. Not with judgment. Not with expectation. Just presence.
By the end of the week, Yunho realized something he hadnât in a long time. He was no longer counting the minutes until she left.
He was counting the moments he got to be near her.
And that was terrifying.
********************
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the monitors. The steady hum of the machines filled the silence like a pulse, but it did nothing to steady Yunhoâs own racing one.
He tried to ignore it at first, the sharp, stabbing pressure in his chest, the way his lungs refused to expand fully, the sweat prickling across his temples. But the ache wouldnât relent. It spread, heavy and unyielding, from his sternum down to his ribs, twisting with every shallow breath.
His fingers dug into the sheets until his knuckles whitened, jaw tight, heart hammering, not just from the pain, but from the fear he refused to admit.
Y/N stirred. Her eyes opened at the faint rustle, sharp and alert, catching immediately the subtle changes in him, the twitch of his hand, the shallow rise and fall of his chest, the way his breaths came unevenly.
âYunho?â Her voice was soft, trembling just slightly, fragile against the quiet. âAre you ok? Whatâs wrong?â
He didnât answer. He could not.
Vulnerability had always been a weakness in his world. Showing it meant letting the world, or even her, see the cracks he had spent years burying.
âHey... â she whispered softly, approaching his bed. âTalk to me."
He tried to push the panic aside, to straighten in bed, to pretend, but a sharp gasp escaped him. The pain tightened, radiating into his shoulders and back, muscles clenching as if his body were a cage. His hand instinctively went to his chest, trembling slightly.
Y/Nâs eyes widened, heart hammering against her ribs. The usual warmth in her chest twisted into something tighter, heavier. She felt the flutter of fear spread through her own body. Her hand hovered just above his arm, shaking, but she forced herself to stay calm, voice steady even as her pulse raced.
âShhh... Breathe with me.â she said gently, leaning slightly closer, careful not to crowd him. âIn⊠and out. Slowly. Just like we practiced.â
He scoffed weakly, trying to push her away without meaning to, but the pain stole his strength. His breaths hitched, uneven, a low, rasping sound escaping his lips. She pressed her hand gently against his shoulder, anchoring him, grounding him without forcing words, her touch firm and deliberate.
Minutes dragged. Each second stretched like an eternity. The monitors beeped on, indifferent, but Y/Nâs presence was a tether. Slowly, agonizingly, his chest loosened, breaths coming in slightly deeper gulps, though the ache remained stubbornly lodged in his ribs.
âI⊠Iâll be fine.â he whispered, voice hoarse, barely above a rasp. The words felt false even to him.
Y/Nâs eyes glimmered with a mixture of relief and lingering panic. âYou better.â she tries to joke, nudging him lightly, her voice even softer now, trembling with the effort of keeping composed. âBut⊠donât scare me like that again. Please.â
He looked away, jaw tight, the heat of embarrassment and frustration burning in his chest. His cheeks flushed and Y/N noticed immediately, a small, mischievous smile tugging at her lips.
âAww⊠is the Yunho actually blushing?â she teased, voice light, almost sing-song.
He stiffened, shoulders rising instinctively. âIâm not.â he said, voice low and clipped, though the faint pink creeping up his neck betrayed him.
Y/Nâs smile widened, eyes sparkling with amusement. She leaned back slightly, pretending to be casual, but she didnât take her gaze off him. âUh-huh...â she said softly, tilting her head. âSure not. Thatâs not a blush at all. Totally just⊠heat from the machines, right?â
Yunho scowled, attempting to cross his arms and hide himself further, but it did nothing to erase the warmth crawling across his face. His chest tightened again, partly from residual pain, partly from the awkwardness of being seen like this.
âYouâre⊠unbelievable.â he muttered, voice gruff, but not loud enough to mask the slight break in it.
âAnd youâre adorable when youâre flustered." she shot back, gentle, not mocking,just a soft, teasing observation that lingered in the air between them.
He growled under his breath, looking back at the ceiling, refusing to meet her eyes, yet feeling the oddest pull in his chest, something between irritation and something he couldnât name.
âDo you want me to call the nurse? Are you sure youâre feeling better?â Y/N asked, voice soft but insistent, the teasing replaced by genuine concern.
Yunhoâs lips pressed into a thin line. He hated that she could see him like this, hated the flutter in his chest, hated the heat rising in his face. And yet⊠for reasons he didnât want to think about, he felt his shoulders ease just slightly, the tight coil of his body loosening a fraction.
âNo need. I'm ok.â he said, voice low, clipped, but quieter, calmer than before. Not entirely convincing, even to himself.
Y/Nâs eyes softened. She didnât push, didnât demand more. âOkay.â she said quietly. âBut⊠if anything changes, you promise me youâll tell me, alright?â
He swallowed, throat dry, fingers flexing against the blanket. He didnât meet her eyes at first, but the corner of his gaze flicked toward her, almost unconsciously. âYeah." he muttered, voice rough, âIâll tell you.â
Y/N smiled softly, her presence warm but gentle, like sunlight spilling through a narrow window.
She lingered by his bedside, as if trying to convince herself he was okay. Yunho shifted just enough to meet her eyes. âYou can go back to your bed. Iâll be fi-â
She bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, cutting him off mid-sentence.
He froze, the words dying in his throat. Her lips barely brushed his cheek, soft and fleeting, but it sent a jolt through him sharper than any pain he had felt all day. His fingers twitched against the blanket, gripping it instinctively as if he could anchor himself to something real.
Y/N pulled back just slightly, her eyes searching his, gentle and tentative. âThere." she beamed. âBetter?â
Yunho tensed, swallowing hard. âThe heck was that for?â he asked softly, his voice low, rough at the edges, a mix of irritation and something he didnât understand himself.
She laughed, light and melodic, the sound filling the small room. âFor being you.â she said, shrugging casually, though her eyes twinkled with mischief. âBecause youâre stubborn and I thought you could use a little⊠reminder that someone cares.â
He scoffed, turning her back to her, his cheeks flushing once again. "Good night."
Y/N watched him, unbothered, almost serene. She didnât press, didnât try to coax him into a smile or a response. She smiled and settled back against her pillow, whispering softly. âSleep well, Yunho.â
He didnât respond. He faced the wall, stiff, proud, flushed, his heart skipping beats for a reason entirely new now.
********************
It had been four days since Yunho had been allowed a proper shower. His condition was "volatile," the doctors said, which meant bed baths and wet wipes. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his reflection in the darkened screen of his phone. His hair was messy, clinging to his forehead, dull and lifeless. He felt wretched.
He ran a hand through it, grimacing and let out a sharp, frustrated noise, tossing the phone aside.
From across the room, Y/N watched him over the top of her book.
"You're growling again." she noted calmly.
"I feel disgusting." Yunho snapped, not looking at her. He tugged at the collar of his hospital gown. "Iâd kill for a real shower. Or just... to feel clean."
Y/N chuckled softly and marked her page, setting the book down. She studied him for a moment, her eyes calculating, before she stood up. She walked over to the small sink in the corner of their room, testing the tap.
"Come here." she said.
Yunho frowned, looking up. "What?"
"I canât get you into a shower." she said, checking the temperature of the water. "But I can wash your hair. Itâll make you feel human again."
Yunho scoffed, instinctively defensive. "Iâm not an invalid. I can-"
"You canât bend over the sink without pulling your leads, silly." she cut him off, pointing to the wires taped to his chest. "And if you get dizzy, youâll hit your head. Just... let me help you. Please?"
âYunho gritted his teeth, his pride wrestling with the desperate need to feel clean. Finally, he let out a short, defeated breath and stood up. He walked to the sink. Y/N grabbed a chair, dragging it over.
"Sit. Face the window. Lean your head back over the basin."
He did as he was told, the porcelain cold against the back of his neck. He stared up at the ceiling tiles, his throat exposed, feeling incredibly stupid and incredibly vulnerable.
Then, Y/N stepped into his space. She placed a towel around his shoulders, her knuckles grazing his collarbone. He flinched.
"Relax." she smiled, her voice closer than he expected. "Iâve got you."
She turned on the tap. The sound of running water filled the silence. Then, warm water cascaded over his scalp and Yunho couldnât help it as his eyes squeezed shut, a low sigh escaping his lips.
"Temperature okay?" Y/N asked softly.
"Yeah." he breathed. "Itâs good."
She reached for the small bottle of shampoo she kept in her nightstand, vanilla and something floral, not the antiseptic hospital soap.
When her fingers touched his scalp, Yunhoâs breath hitched. It wasn't clinical. A nurse scrubbed efficiently, quickly. Y/N took her time. Her fingers worked through his hair, massaging the roots with a slow, deliberate pressure that sent shivers down his spine. It was intimate. Too intimate.
The room seemed to shrink. The beeping of the monitors faded into the background, replaced by the sound of water and the rush of blood in his own ears.
"Youâre really tense." she whispered. Her hands moved down to the base of his skull, her thumbs pressing into the tight muscles of his neck.
Yunhoâs hands gripped the armrests of the chair, his knuckles white. "Iâm fine."
"Liar."
She leaned closer to get a better angle. He could smell her, not just the shampoo, but her. Warm skin, cotton and something sweet.
âHe opened his eyes. From this angle, looking up, all he could see was the curve of her jaw and her focused expression. She wasnât smiling. She was biting her lip slightly in concentration, her eyes dark and intent on her task.
She looked down.
Their gazes locked. Inverted, upside down, her face was inches from his. The water was still running, warm against his skin, but Yunho felt suddenly cold, then hot, a flash of heat igniting in his chest that had nothing to do with cardiac failure.
Y/Nâs hands slowed in his hair, but she didnât pull away. Her fingers were tangled in the wet strands, resting against his scalp.
"Yunho." she breathed.
The way she said his name, low, breathless, made his stomach twist.
"Don't stop." he said. The words came out rougher than he intended, almost a command.
Her eyes widened slightly, her pupils blowing wide. She didn't look away. Slowly, deliberately, she resumed the motion, her nails scratching lightly against his scalp.
Yunhoâs head fell back further into the basin, heavy in her hands. He was completely at her mercy.
She rinsed the suds away, the water running clear. She turned off the tap.
âFor a moment, the only sound was the dripping water and their ragged breathing.
"Done." she whispered.
She reached for the towel, wrapping it around his hair. She gently lifted his head, drying the strands with slow, rubbing motions.
Yunho sat up, turning in the chair to face her. The towel was draped over his head, casting a shadow over his eyes, but he looked up at her through the damp fringe.
A droplet of water ran down his temple, tracing the line of his cheekbone, down to his jaw.
Y/N watched the droplet. Her hand moved, almost on its own, her thumb catching the water just before it reached his chin.
She didnât pull her hand back. Her thumb rested on his jawline, the pad of her finger brushing his skin. Her hand felt warm, damp.
Yunho didn't move. He didn't breathe. He stared at her mouth, then up to her eyes. The air between them was thick, suffocating in the best way possible.
âHe saw the question in her eyes. The hesitation.
She leaned in, just a fraction. Her free hand came up, resting on his chest, right over his heart. She could feel it. The erratic, heavy thudding against his ribs.
â"Y/N." he warned, his voice a low growl. It was a warning to her and a warning to himself.
'Don't do this. I'm broken. You'll get hurt.'
Y/N let out a shaky breath, running her thumb over his cheekbone. She looked unsure and conflicted. Just as she was about to pull away, Yunho stood up and reached out, his hand tangling into the fabric of her top as he yanked her forward.
The sudden motion knocked the breath out of her. Y/N stumbled, landing hard against him, her hands instinctively flying up to clutch his shoulders to steady herself.
Before she could speak, before she could ask what he was doing, Yunho crushed his mouth to hers.
It wasnât a gentle, movie-perfect first kiss. It was a collision. It was weeks of silence, of side-glances, of biting back words, all breaking loose at once.
Y/N froze for a millisecond, shocked by the sudden switch from his cold distance to this burning heat. She almost melted, before realisation sank in, causing her to pull away abruptly.
"W-wait, Yunho. There's... There's something I need to tell you." She panted softly, breathing heavily.
Yunho shook his head. "Later." he whispered urgently.
"No." she insisted. "Please Yunho, it's important."
Yunho didn't listen, cupping her face and kissing her once again. She made a soft, muffled sound against his lips, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she gave in and kissed him back, her fingers tangling into the damp towel that still draped over his shoulders, gripping him as if he were the only solid thing in the world.
Yunho groaned, a low, rough vibration that she felt in her own chest. He released her shirt and slid his hands down to her waist, pulling her flush against him, needing to eliminate every inch of space between them.
"You don't get to run." he murmured against her lips, breathless and jagged. "Not after looking at me like that."
"Yunho..." she whispered back, her voice trembling.
âHe kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting her, claiming her. His heart was hammering against his ribs and she could feel it thudding wildly against her own chest, but for once, the rapid rhythm didn't feel like a warning. It felt like a drumbeat.
He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, both of them gasping for air. The room felt small, hot, the sterile smell of the hospital fading behind the scent of the vanilla shampoo and the heat radiating off their skin.
"The bed." he rasped, his eyes dark and dilated. "I can't⊠standing up isâŠ"
"I know." she cut him off softly. "Come on."
They moved together, a tangle of limbs and heavy breaths, moving the few steps to his narrow hospital bed. Yunho sat down heavily on the edge, his hands immediately reaching for her again, pulling her to stand between his knees.
The air was thick with tension, heavy and electric. Yunho looked up at her, his hands trembling slightly as they found the hem of her top. He paused, his thumbs brushing the skin of her stomach, his eyes asking a silent question.
Y/N hesitated for a second, then she raised her arms.
Yunho pulled the shirt over her head, his gaze raking over her with a hunger that made her knees weak. He didn't just look at her body. He looked at her like he was memorizing her. He reached out, his calloused palms skimming up her sides, over her ribs, his touch reverent.
"You're beautiful." he whispered, the words sounding foreign on his tongue, raw and honest.
Her eyes welled with unshed tears, but she blinked them away before he could notice.
Reaching for the ties of his own gown, he froze. The old insecurity flared, the instinct to hide the damage, the wires, the evidence of his brokenness. His hands lingered on the fabric, his jaw tightening.
Y/N saw the hesitation. She stepped closer, her legs pressing against the mattress. She reached out and covered his hands with hers.
"Let me." she said softly.
She untied the gown and let it slide down his arms to pool at his waist.
Yunho flinched. He tried to turn his head, to look away, but Y/N caught his chin gently, forcing him to look at her. Then, she looked down.
She traced the leads of the monitor, the sticky pads and finally, the long, pale scar running down the center of his chest.
"Yunho..." she breathed.
She leaned down.
Yunho stopped breathing as he felt her warm breath on his skin. He expected her to recoil. Instead, she pressed her lips softly, tenderly, right over the center of the scar.
A shudder ripped through him, so violent his toes curled.
"Y/NâŠ" His voice cracked.
"Itâs part of you." she murmured against his skin, kissing him again, lower this time. "It means you fought to be here. To be here with me."
She pushed him gently backward until he was lying against the pillows. She followed him down, straddling his hips, careful of the IV line snaking from his hand.
The bed was narrow, forcing them into an intimate tangle. Yunho looked up at her, his hair messy against the pillow, his eyes wide and vulnerable in a way he had never let anyone see.
"I mightâŠ" he started, swallowing hard. "I might not be able to⊠do much. My heartâŠ"
"Shhh..." she soothed, leaning down to brush her nose against his. "We go slow. We take our time. Just feel me, ok?"
"I feel you." he choked out. "Everywhere."
He reached up, pulling her down for a kiss that was slow, deep and devastatingly intimate. As they moved together, shedding the last of their barriers, the room seemed to disappear. There were no nurses, no rounds, no diagnosis.
There was only the friction of skin on skin, the heat of her body grounding him, the way she sighed his name into the hollow of his neck.
Yunhoâs hands gripped her hips, guiding her rhythm. It was slow, agonizingly, beautifully slow. He watched her face above him, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips parted and he felt a surge of possessiveness so strong it nearly stopped his heart.
He was alive. God, he was alive.
"Look at me." he commanded, his voice a low growl.
She opened her eyes, locking onto his.
"I'm right here." she whispered.
"Stay." he begged, his composure shattering as the tension coiled tight in his belly. "Don't leave me."
Her breath hitched at his words, her own damaged heart cracking.
"Yunho..." she trailed off, voice shaking.
She swallowed the truth that threatened to rise, the fear that she might leave not because she wanted to, but because her own body might fail her. She couldn't give him a guarantee of forever. No one could. But she could give him this moment. Every second of it.
She leaned down, closing the small distance between them until her forehead rested against his, their breaths mingling in the small, charged space.
"I'm not going anywhere." she whispered fiercely, her lips brushing against his with every word.
She kissed him then, not with the frantic energy of before, but with a slow, deep devotion that felt like a vow. She moved her hips against him, a deliberate, grinding friction that made a rough, broken noise tear from his throat.
Yunhoâs hands tightened on her waist, his thumbs digging into her skin, leaving marks he hoped would stay. He arched up into her, chasing the friction, chasing the feeling of being completely, utterly consumed. The monitor by the bed picked up the pace, creating a frantic staccato that mirrored the thundering in his chest, but for once, he didn't care if it gave out. If his heart stopped now, at least it would stop while it was full.
"More." he gasped, his head falling back against the pillow, his eyes squeezing shut as the sensation built, tight and hot in his lower belly. "Please⊠Y/NâŠ"
"I've got you." she murmured, leaning her forehead again his, tears finally pricking the corners of her eyes.
âShe picked up the pace, the rhythm becoming jagged, desperate.
When the release came, it wasn't frantic. It was a slow, rolling wave that left them both breathless and clinging to each other, Y/N collapsing onto his chest, burying her face in his neck.
Yunho wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. He pressed his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of vanilla and sweat, his heart thudding a rapid, chaotic rhythm against his ribs.
For the first time, he didn't fear the speed.
They lay there for a long time in the dim quiet, the only sound the steady, slightly elevated beeping of the monitor and their synchronized breathing.
Y/N shifted slightly, lifting her head to look at him. Her hair was a mess, her lips swollen, her eyes soft and sleepy. She rested her chin on his chest, right over his heart.
"You okay?" she whispered, tracing the line of his collarbone.
Yunho looked at her. He felt exhausted, his body heavy, but his mind was clearer than it had been in years. The walls he had built were rubble and he found he didn't want to rebuild them.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering on her cheek.
"Yeah." he rasped, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. I think I am."
********************
The morning light didn't filter in softly. It pierced the room, harsh and clinical, dragging Yunho out of a deep, dreamless sleep.
He woke with a start, seeking the warmth he had fallen asleep holding. He blinked, his vision adjusting.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
He sat up, ignoring the stiffness in his limbs and the dull ache in his chest. He turned his head sharply toward the window.
Y/Nâs bed was empty.
Not just empty. Stripped.
The sheets were gone. The pillow was bare. The bedside table, usually cluttered with her books, her phone and that vanilla lip balm she used constantly, was wiped clean. The IV pole stood naked and silver in the corner.
It was as if she had never been there.
âA cold spike of adrenaline hit Yunhoâs stomach, harder than any arrhythmia.
"Y/N?" he croaked, his voice rough with sleep and confusion as he glanced around the room.
Silence.
The only answer was the rhythmic, indifferent beeping of his own monitor.
Panic began to coil in his throat, despite his attempts to remain calm.
Maybe she went for tests. Maybe she was moved to a different ward. But why wouldn't anyone let him know?
The door clicked open.
It was Linda, the nurse. She was carrying a tray of medication, but her usual brisk, efficient walk was gone. Her steps were slow, heavy. When she saw Yunho sitting up, she stopped, her expression crumbling just slightly before she smoothed it back into professional neutrality.
â"Where is she?" Yunho asked. His voice wasn't loud. It was brittle, ready to snap.
Linda set the tray down on the counter with a soft clink. She didn't look him in the eye immediately.
"Yunho..." she started, her voice gentle. Too gentle.
â"Don't." he snapped, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his hands gripping the mattress until his knuckles turned white. "Just tell me where she is. Did they move her? Is she not feeling well? What's going on?"
Linda took a breath and stepped closer to the foot of his bed. She clasped her hands in front of her.
"Well, I guess there's no easy way to put it." she sighed. "Y/N... She passed away early this morning, Yunho."
The world stopped.
The beeping of the monitor seemed to vanish. The light from the window turned grey. The air left his lungs in a rush, leaving him hollow.
"You're joking." he said flatly. He shook his head, a small, jerky motion. "No, don't play with me. She was fine. She was... we were just..."
We were just alive. Last night. She was right here.
"She was here for a routine check. Why would she-"
Lindaâs eyes filled with sympathy. "She wasn't here for a checkup, Yunho. She was in end-stage heart failure. She was admitted for palliative care. She knew her time was very short."
"What?" The words hit him like physical blows. End-stage. Palliative. Dying.
"S-she knew?" he whispered, the realization twisting in his gut like a knife. "She knew... "
"She didn't want to be treated like a patient." Linda said softly. "She wanted to be normal. For a little while.
Yunho stared at the empty space where her bed used to be. The silence was deafening now. The humming was gone. The laughter was gone. The warmth that had filled his chest just hours ago was replaced by a cold, crushing void.
"She went into cardiac arrest around 4 in the morning." Linda continued gently. "It was... very peaceful. She didn't suffer. We didn't wake you. She wouldn't have wanted us to."
She wouldn't have wanted us to.
He had been right there, sleeping, dreaming of her, while she slipped away in the silence he had once claimed to love.
Yunho bowed his head, his hands covering his face. A raw, strangled sound escaped his throat, half sob, half scream. He couldn't breathe. His own heart kicked and fluttered, a painful reminder that he was still here, trapped in the cage she had just escaped.
"Yunho."
He didn't look up.
"She left this for you."
He heard the rustle of paper. Slowly, agonizingly, he lowered his hands.
Linda held out a cream-colored envelope. On the front, in neat, looping handwriting, was a single name: Yunho. He took it. His fingers trembled so badly he almost dropped it.
"I'll give you some time." Linda whispered. She checked his monitor one last time, silenced the alarm that had started beeping due to his elevated heart rate and slipped out of the room.
Yunho sat alone in the wreckage of the morning.
He stared at the envelope. He could smell it. Faintly, stubbornly, it smelled of vanilla.
âWith shaking hands, he tore it open.
âA single sheet of lined paper fell out, covered in ink.
Hey roommate,
If youâre reading this, it means I finally made my exit. No dramatic goodbye, no beeping machines, just me, sneaking out before the party got boring. (Sorry, bad joke. I know you hate those).
Iâm sorry I lied to you. Iâm sorry I told you I was going home soon. I mean, technically, I am, just not the way you thought. I didnât want you to look at me differently. With pity. Caution. I wanted someone to look at me like I was just a girl. Like I was alive.
Thank you for doing that. Especially last night. Last night was everything, Yunho. It wasnât a mistake. It wasn't an impulse. It was the only item on my bucket list that really mattered: to be loved, completely and recklessly, even for an hour. You gave me that. You made my heart beat properly for the first time in my life, right before it stopped.
I know what youâre doing right now. Youâre sitting there, clenching your jaw, building those walls back up. Youâre telling yourself that this is why you donât let people in. Because it hurts. Because they leave.
Donât you dare. Donât you dare go back to being cold. Donât you dare convince yourself that surviving is the same as living. Yunho, your heart is sick, but it is not broken. I felt it. Itâs strong. Itâs loud. Itâs warm. Stop punishing it for keeping you alive.
You asked me what I would do if I knew I didnât have much time. I told you: laugh louder, love harder. Now, Iâm passing this mission to you. Do it for me. Eat the terrible hospital jelly and laugh about it. Talk to the next roommate. Go outside and feel the rain, even if it scares you. Fall in love again and let it hurt if it has to, because feeling hurt is better than feeling nothing.
You have time, Yunho. Please, donât waste it waiting for the end.
Iâll be watching. If you start brooding again, I promise I will haunt you.
Be happy.
Love,
Y/N
Yunho lowered the letter.
The tears came then. Not the silent, angry tears he had shed in private for years, but hot, messy, cleansing tears that racked his entire body. He curled forward, clutching the paper to his chest, pressing her words against the scar she had kissed.
He cried for the lie. He cried for the truth. He cried for the girl who had broken into his fortress and set it on fire.
He cried until his chest ached, until he felt empty.
But as the morning sun climbed higher, flooding the room with a brilliance he couldn't shut out, Yunho took a breath.
âIt was shaky. It was painful. But it was deep.
He looked at the empty bed.
Don't you dare go back to being cold.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand. He looked at the window, where the sky was a piercing, vibrant blue.
"Okay..." he whispered to the empty room. His voice cracked, but he forced the word out again, stronger. "Okay."
He folded the letter carefully and placed it on his bedside table, right next to his phone.
Yunho didn't pull the covers up over his head. He didn't turn his back to the world.
âInstead, he reached for the remote and opened the blinds fully, letting the light hit his face. It burned his swollen eyes, but he didn't blink. He sat there, feeling the heat on his skin, feeling the heavy, uneven thud of his heart against his ribs.
It hurt like hell.
But he was alive.
And for the first time, he intended to stay that way.
i got a story to tell, you know that i cherish thee... 18+
SONG MINGI HAD NEVER KNOWN LOVE.Â
By age eleven, Mingi knew the shoes he had to fill were much larger than his adolescent mind could comprehend. He had heard the line âOne day, all of this will be yoursâ so often he began to think it was his middle name; his mother, his father, his aunts and uncles, to have the last name Song was a privilege.Â
An empire, thatâs what his father owned. Real estate for pleasure to commercial properties, land, islands. Businesses, so many Mingi could barely keep up at age sixteen, stocks, bonds, investments in startupsâ not to mention the assets they kept in their home. Collectibles, fine art, vehicles, jewelry, home was for viewing, to appreciate; not to play, to laugh, to smile. Look, but never touch.Â
Being the heir of an empire drew attention in all the wrong ways, especially when the internet was a growing nebula of incrimination, even if he attended the most prestigious private school overseasâ making true friends continuously proved difficult. Song Mingi learned privacy before he learned the name of each business his father owned. By eighteen, back at home, learning how to be the spine of a conglomerate, Mingi couldnât say heâd surrounded himself with many.Â
It didnât affect his ability to be a businessman, though, to perform. He learned how to speak, what language to use, how to stand, posture that demands respect, how to shake a hand, what grip his palm should hold, how to negotiate, each and every skill was engraved into his very bones. By twenty, Mingi was a walking, talking mannequinâ his entire life laid out before him, chosen for him, his brain was wired to function, not to live.Â
Until twenty-five, two years after his father suddenly passed, when the empire was finally recognized throughout countries as a possession of Song Mingi. By twenty-seven, he had done more for the Song name than generations upon generations before him. Mingi wasnât just a businessman anymore, Mingi was a fucking star.Â
His childhood wasnât warm. An absent father, a mother that only cared about molding him to his fatherâs standards, Mingi didnât have many things that brought him genuine, unbridled joy.Â
Memories of school were blurred. Strict, routine. He doesnât remember a time when life had colorâ he had small things he possessed, baseball cards, stamps, books, but those were for collecting, for making money, according to his mother, his nanny. His second nanny. His third.Â
He did sell them, yes. The ones he chose to. But there were ones he kept close; characters and stories he lost himself in, other worlds he wished he could transport his consciousness to, baseball cards he found himself attached to and stamps that were too beautiful to be in someone elseâs hands. His mother, three nannies, thought his attachment to such small, meaningless things pointless. A flaw.Â
They were still in his drawer at twenty-eight, when he owned the world and it thanked him in return. Fear is a beautiful thing, an opportunity for growth, for overcoming, self-improvement, unless the thing you fear is human. A six-foot industrialist that owned everything, as much as the world looked to Song Mingi he was, above all, someone to be fucking terrified of.Â
Thereâs beauty in fear, it might be the first thing Song Mingi ever fell in love with. The secondâ the first time heâs cracked his chest open and had a woman drink the carnage from her palms. When a man stands above the world, there are plenty of men who wish to stand beside him, but none who dare.Â
Song Mingi never thought his undoing would be a woman. A company dinner, a gala, his mother hosted it yearly. She laid out a list of appropriate, single women for the twenty-eight year old man, the countryâs most eligible bachelor; none he wanted. It was a list of titles, of baggage, at the age where he should be thinking of marriage, of a future, of love, Mingi wanted his life to fucking start. He wanted to live.Â
A private club, one of many he owned, this one was his favorite. Red velvet and black leather surrounded the space, the music low, the patrons wealthyâ he didnât care what the walls looked like, what booth he sat in, how they always kept his glass topped off. He cared about you, in your black satin dress and skinny red pumps his eyes always glued to.Â
He cared about how you didnât care about him. He saw you monthly, always on the arm of another man like a prized possession. He knew your real name and your social security number the first day he laid eyes on you, he knew what you were, he knew what you cost.Â
A check he didnât send until his mother sent him a list of names, and it dawned on him you were the opposite of every single bullet point. An idea that made his heart race. A thought that felt like rebellion, for the first time in his twenty-eight years of life.Â
He didnât speak a word to you until he was parked outside of your apartment building in a blacked out limo he never used for any occasion. The driver opened the door for you and it was as if you knew how long you drifted through Mingiâs mind as a risk, an opportunity he would never dare take. But Mingiâs a man who gets everything he wants, by the snap of his fingers or the wave of his hand, and to be a businessman is to take risks without the security of a certain outcome.Â
At twenty-eight years old, the biggest risk heâd ever taken was inviting you in his limousine. Heâs invested in what many would never think to, he's torn down other empires with his bare hands, heâs put himself in the spotlight for the world to see everything. But it felt like opening the drawer in his bedroom, a lazy grin on his lips, a hand outstretched to help you inside the limousine, the moment he smelled you he couldnât believe heâs withstood life without you.Â
âMr. Song,â you nodded your head politely, dark gown blanketing over the black leather seats. âItâs an honor to meet you.âÂ
âMingi,â he corrected, the corner of his lips curled, âthank you for joining me.âÂ
Your dress, your heels, your face, your smell, your postureâ everything about you screamed wealth. Power, but submission. How is it that he could buy your time, your companionship, and his heart is lurching in his chest? Had he bought this feeling, too?
Heâs had women, so many fucking women at his private school overseas, in his penthouse, the one he used for that very reason, entertainment and pleasure, heâs had them in the backseat of his Escalade. Heâs had women everywhere, yet never once has he felt his heart dance beneath his ribs.Â
Youâre funnyâ in the way that businessmenâs eyes widen and a choked laugh falls from their lips, because thereâs no way youâd speak those words aloud, on Mingiâs hip. You knew how to speak, you were fluent in the language of business and hierarchy and wealth.Â
Youâre intelligent. Observant, you could tell who Mingiâs allies are, whoâs a competitor, who searched for details to exploit. Mingi supposed one Forbes article could have relayed the information, but in his bones he knew you were reading them, everyone, their body language, microaggressions beneath the lines of sweet words, silent insults behind pearly white teeth.Â
Built for this world, but only with your toes touching the shore. Youâd never attended an event of this stature, that Mingi knew from the file on his desk at home, yet you behaved like this was just another Saturday, like you knew these people just as well as Mingi, as if he briefed you for a week beforehand.Â
His mother wasnât as outraged as he would have liked. A woman with no title, with no wealth, no father to make a deal withâ small discrepancies that no longer mattered, because if she liked you, you, somehow it felt better. Somehow he was proud.Â
There was no time to be curious. Only stunned, satisfied, glad. He likes you. He likes you. He knew he would. But to like you this much, without knowing anything else than what lived in a manila folder on his oakwood desk, fear sank its claws into Mingiâs heart, and he encouraged it to sink deeper. He loved the way it felt.Â
Tabloids ate it up, every picture of the two of you together sold for thousands. The first time Mingi was seen in public with a woman, fingers intertwined, a smile on his face, the country seemed to go through a grieving period.Â
This Just In: Song Mingi Seen with Mystery Woman!Â
Does the Song Empire Finally Have its Empress?
The Worldâs Favorite Bachelor is Taken!Â
Song Mingi With Unknown Woman: What Does She Have That We Donât?
Mingi never particularly enjoyed speculation on his love life, especially when it was broadcast to the worldâ but this he could get behind. He liked how he looked next to you, his smile looked genuine. He doesnât remember the last time it was.Â
Another sum wired to your account, within a week he had you on his arm again. A conservative bodycon dress on your body, closed-toe heels on your feet, hair styled, makeup done, you looked born of importance. A business dinner with the Choi empireâs son, a networking event, not that Mingi needed to network. He just needed to show face.Â
âPleasure to meet you, Mr. Choi,â you smiled sweetly, not even blinking as Jongho brought your knuckles to his lips. Mingiâs hand pressed a little harder to the small of your back.Â
Jonghoâs eyes slid to Mingi as his lips made contact, a challenge in the flare of his pupils. A flirt, heâs always been, tabloids made millions off of Choi Jonghoâs excursions since he was a mere fifteen years old, parties, drinking, drugs, women, men. A billionaireâs son he was, at his core, no rules and no laws could touch him. He took advantage of the notion daily.Â
Mingi swallowed down his irritation, keeping his eyes neutral, shaking the younger manâs hand next. Jongho smirked, a corner of his mouth lifting at the lack of reaction from Mingi. Jongho tilted his head, jet black hair set with so much gel it didnât move a millimeter, âWhereâd you find her, hm?âÂ
âYou wouldnât know it,â you replied before Mingi could take a breath. âInvite only.âÂ
Your tone, so intriguing, how you can say so much without saying anything. You wouldnât know it, itâs too prestigious for you. Invite only, you arenât nearly important enough. Mingiâs grin was utterly cheshire.Â
Jonghoâs smirk wilted, lips a flat heart between his nose and chin. He nodded once, âWell.â Looking between you, searching for words in his mind, âI look forward to seeing more of you, and Mingi, I look forward to the proposal my father mentioned.âÂ
Ah, the proposal. He knew there was something important tonight. At the head of the dinner table, naturally, a spot heâd forever wield. He kept his eyes on you during his speech, a monologue he pulled straight from his ass, one that had the table floored. The Choi corporation certainly wouldnât be pleased when the fine print reached their handsâ but each and every attendee worked like dogs, grins on their faces, eyes glazed over like theyâd seen God.Â
You, on the other hand, hands in your lap, polite smile on your face. Mingi assumed you didnât understand a word until youâd reached his Escalade after dessert.Â
âThe proposal,â you turned your head toward him, a single crinkle between your brows. âItâll tear down the Choiâs, will it not?âÂ
Mingi stretched his neck from side to side, unfastening the cuff links on his wrists. He should be more surprised you understood the severity of the deal, especially without reading the fine print, even more so that Mingi presented it like a gift. Somehow it felt natural that you knew what you werenât supposed to.Â
âIn time,â he hummed, âmaybe.âÂ
Your head turned to the window again. He watched you for a moment, how your hair bounced as they drove over gravel, your hands still politely in your lap as if youâd get scolded if they moved. Mingi, so soft it was almost a whisper, âWhat are you doing tonight?âÂ
Your neck craned to him, eyes wide like you werenât expecting anything but being dropped off before your building. Mingiâs lips pulled upward, âDo you want to come back to mine for drinks? Maybe talk over the proposal a little more.âÂ
Stars would cower at the sight of your smile, heâd never seen anything so bright in his twenty-eight years. It made a pit form in his gut, made the length trapped his boxers present. Fear kissed his spine, but it only aided in his excitement.Â
Your head didnât stop moving from the moment you stepped foot in his penthouse, really when you stepped foot in the building, through the glass revolving door in the lobby, you watched every movement like a kid in a candy store. Amazement, Mingi thinks, danced in your eyes all the way up to the top floor, so much so he let you open the door with his key.Â
âBeautiful,â awe soaked your tone, you whispered the word as you walked into the space, heels clicking against the tiled floor. Mingi couldnât stop smiling, excitement lighting up each and every one of his veins, he pulled off his blazer the moment he stepped inside.Â
âI had an interior designer take over,â still smiling, he hung his blazer, bringing you past the foyer to the living room. âIâm not much of a decorator.âÂ
You laughedâ it was the first time he heard it, and it took his fucking breath away. The sweetest, most innocent giggle, he didnât think such an incredible sound had blessed this place since he bought it. You followed him to the bar, eyes still searching every wall, every nook and cranny of the room, the act so cute Mingi wasnât sure how heâd hold himself back.Â
âIâll wire you first thing in the morning,â he said as he stepped behind the bar, while you sat in one of the upholstered chairs that made up the conversation area. âI know this wasnât a part of the deal.âÂ
âNo need,â you shook your head, one knee crossing over the other, âIâm off the clock, if thatâs okay with you.âÂ
He lifted his brows in amusement, pouring whiskey neat into two glasses, heâd never been more okay with anything in his life. âEven if weâre still talking business?âÂ
âDo you really want to talk business?â Lips curling at the corner, head tilting, tendrils of hair kissing your collarbone, the sight made his stomach tumble.Â
He didâ for some reason, he trusted the walls of his penthouse, the woman that stood between them. Just to amuse himself, he asked, âCan I trust your judgement?âÂ
âYou can trust my honesty,â your eyes followed him as he rounded the corner of the bar, placing your glass on the table that separated you on two black velvet chairs.Â
He took a long sip of whiskey, letting himself feel the burn of it licking down his throat. He sat with his knees spread, two arms lazily thrown over his thighs, one hand fingering the circular rim of his glass.Â
âLet me ask you a question, then,â his voice thick, lowered, gravelly in the way that he wasnât sure he wanted you to hear what came next. But you nodded, as he knew you would, so he asked, âWhat do you think of me?âÂ
You shuffled in your seat, making yourself more comfortable. Back sunken lower into the velvet, two palms cradling the glass in your lap, knee still thrown over the other. âI think youâre strong,â you began with a steady breath, and for a moment Mingi thought you would stop there. You didnât.Â
âI think⊠youâre adolescent. I think youâve never gotten a taste of what life is, what it could be. You were Song Mingi, heir of an empire, heir of the world. Now youâre Song Mingi, the man who stands behind the curtain, puppets dangling from his strings. You appear as a symbol of strength, wealth, control, but have you ever had anything ripped from your palms? From your heart?âÂ
Mingiâs jaw clenched, his ears danced beside the fade of his haircut. He eyed your uneven chest, despite your calm eyes, he could tell the words spilled from your lips without intent. Honesty you promised, it cut like a blade to his perfect, well-kempt skin, you asked him questions you already knew the answer to.Â
âAnd what could my life be? If I was a different man,â his head tilted backwards, staring beneath thick brows. Your posture doesnât change.Â
âFun,â you tried a smile, a curve to your painted lips, âit could be fun.âÂ
âDoes my life not seem fun?â He popped a brow, amused all over again. âWomen and money, anything I could ever want at my fingertipsââ
ââAnd yet you donât take advantage,â your smile turned sly, cunning. Eyes feline, you saw too much of him. Things that he kept hidden. âDo you?âÂ
Mingi shrugged, what was he doing right now? âI do. Enough so.âÂ
You shook your head slowly, taking a sip from your glass. Licking your lips, Mingi watched as the liquor poured down your throat. So fucking beautiful, an action so common, so small, having you before him has been the most fun heâs had.Â
You leaned forward, the glass landing on the table between you, the clinking sound reverberated throughout the penthouse. âNot enough,â you said, voice lowered, sultry. âBut Iâm here.âÂ
His brows raised, head straightened, unexpecting of your forwardness. Swallowing down saliva and remnants of liquor on his tongue, his voice came out breathier than he wanted, âAnd?â
âYou paid for my time,â you sat back in your seat, arms blanketing the armrests, casual, comfortable. âYou donât have to anymore.âÂ
âWhyâs that?âÂ
âI want to know you, Song Mingi. I want to show you.âÂ
It felt like a love confession to Mingi. Heâd never heard those words in his lifeâ everyone wants money, power, they want the Mingi they answered to. Not the man beneath the mask, the man who laid at the bottomless pit of power, the man who dreamed of what his life would be if he wasnât Song Mingi.Â
It's easy to get lost in power, in strength, in control. To peer inside and not recognize who you see, to realize thatâs all youâve ever been, that thereâs nothing beneath the mask. Hollow, a shell, a robot whose organs swam in blood.Â
He took you to bed that night, two glasses of whiskey left half-drank on the table in his bar room. Even sex felt different, new, heâd never thought a connection between himself and his partner would make it better, his finishing point stronger. He thought your face beautiful, your words elegant, but your body was something he could only imagine.Â
Perfection, every inch of you. And you could feel it in his fingers, in his tongue, in his body that carried you past the finish line over and over. Mingi embraced his fear, in the way he always hadâ he relished in the way you lacked it. Raw, unbridled, you appeared to him as yourself, no sugarcoating, no acting.Â
You saw him for him, and he saw you for you. An eye for an eye, in a way.Â
In the months to follow, he saw you often. Mingi never frequented the penthouse as often as heâd been, almost permanent residence, with you by his side each and every time. Each and every day.Â
His business grew stronger, his mind sharper. You in his ear, your smarts, your wit, growing up Mingi never saw his mother with his father the way he kept you by his side. A lucky charm, or a new set of eyes to see the things he couldnât, youâd become vital in a few monthsâ time.Â
The tabloids went rampant. Your face on the front page more often than not, no one knew who you were, none would find out. It didnât seem to bother you, nor did it bother Mingi, he was falling headfirst into something he never expected, and proudly so. Seeing you in the club, satin dress, red pumps, he never thought heâd love your mind more than anything else. He never saw farther than the gala.Â
Other than his business, his mind, you made good on your promise; Mingiâs life has never been more fun. Public appearances were a joy instead of a chore, with you on his arm, with back rooms and closets and that sharp tongue heâs come to adore. Clubs filled with alcohol served to him in bottles and blow on a silver platter, at twenty eight he learned how to party. He especially learned it never really needed to stop.Â
Most of all, you showed him love. A feeling that comes naturally, one heâs never felt before, in the months heâs known you, youâve taught him empathy. Compassion, emotion, connection, you helped him talk through his heart twisting in his chest, his stomach so tight he feared heâd spill its contents onto the floor, just from looking at you. Talking deep into morning hours, about anything, everythingâ your past, his own, your future.Â
It turned domestic before heâd realized, before heâd meant to put a label on anything. Naturally, on its own, who was he to fight whatâs meant to be?
Waking up next to you, peppering kisses along your jaw, down your neck, your stomach until his tongue met between your thighs, it was heaven to him. Each and every morning, waking you up until your thighs shook around his head, just to push inside you until they shook around his hips. Natural. Routine.Â
âI want to show you something,â still inside you, chest heaving, lips ghosting your cheekbone. âLater tonight. Pack a bag.âÂ
Your brows raised on your perfect, flushed, fucked-out face. âA bag? Where are we going?âÂ
âOutside the city,â he placed a kiss to your brow, âitâs special. No one else has seen it, ever.âÂ
You giggled, and his stomach tumbled the way it always did. The way it always will. You gasped as he pulled out, whining at the emptiness, the spillage onto sheets thatâd be changed while heâs gone.Â
âYou trust me that much, hm?â You asked with a twinkle in your eye as he peeled off of you, off the bed, headed for the bathroom.Â
He looked over his shoulder to give you a look, âIs that even a question?âÂ
You smiled at him like you loved him. Like if he said those three, pretty little words, youâd say them back in a heartbeat. Confidence, acceptance rushed through his veins.Â
You met him in the shower for him to bully into you all over again. Pebbled nipples pressed into the tile wall, one of his arms splayed over your stomach, holding you upright. Growling hungry words into your ear, he drank up your moans like they were dessert.Â
After getting dressed, suit and tie, he searched the bedroom again with his thick brows knitted together. âBaby, have you seen my wallet? My checkbook?âÂ
With your arms in a dress, you presented your back to him to zip you up, one hand holding your ponytail to the left. âYou canât find them?âÂ
He zips you up, two hands on your waist, planting a wet kiss to your cheek. âHavenât seen them since yesterday.âÂ
You spin around, hands on his blazer, laying them down flatter with painted fingertips. Eyes meeting his, still sparkling, âDid you leave them at the office?âÂ
âMaybe,â he scrunches his lips to one side, âprobably. I canât believe I didn't notice.âÂ
You pull him in by his lapels, pressing your lips to his softly, a long, sweet kiss. âYouâre Song Mingi, baby. I donât think anyone expects you to throw down your black card or write them a check, you have people to do that for you.âÂ
âCome on,â his grin spreads wide, âyou know better than that. Iâll check the office when I get there.âÂ
âWhat time should I be ready?â You ask as he turns on his heel.Â
Walking out of the bedroom to put his feet in the dress shoes he left at the front door last night, âEight, please. Iâll have Hiro pick you up.âÂ
One more kiss to your pretty lips, and heâs off, giddy as ever. He doesnât remember to search for his wallet when he gets to the office, nor his checkbook. Both are lost on him, his mind filled with thoughts of later, what heâll show you, how much it means to him that youâll see it.Â
Eight rolls around fastâ the two of you in the backseat of his blacked out Escalade, fingers intertwined, driving an hour outside the city to a small cottage. A small, suburban house, baby blue, the interior something out of a movie, as if heâd stepped back in time.Â
He carries your bags inside with one hand, the other on the small of your back. âI spent a lot of time here growing up,â he said as you entered the house, and just like the first time in his penthouse, your eyes danced as you took in every detail.Â
âMy first nannyâs house. She passed a while back, left it to me. Itâs technically my main residence, well, this is home.âÂ
You had tears in your eyes as you took in the space. Fingertips riding along dusty shelves, the mantle of the fireplace, the crickety kitchen table that had seen too many years of use.Â
âShe left it to you?â Was all you asked, stunned, in awe of the gem he kept hidden away.Â
He stood in the foyer, watching you learn his memories, his childhood. He took his first steps here, said his first words here, this was home before his parentsâ home. Not that he could remember any of it, much too young to take in the weight of what his first nanny did for him. Too young to understand the love she had for him, how she treated Mingi like her own.Â
âI donât have any memories, the walls hold them more than my mind does. But I can feel it when Iâm here, how she loved me, took care of me. When I was moved to my parentâs, she and two others took care of me there. I didnât know this place existed until it was mine.âÂ
Tears had slipped down your cheeks by the time you met Mingiâs eye again. âI can feel it too,â you whispered, breath shaky, walking towards him on soft steps, âit feels special here. Like home.âÂ
He pressed a kiss to your lips after you swung your arms around his neck. âI wanted to show you because itâs special to me, like youâre special to me.âÂ
âDo you think weâll live here?â You looked down at his chest while you asked the question, the first time heâs ever seen you coy. You look up again, eyes glassy, âWill this be home for us one day?âÂ
His heart pounded against his chest, eyes searching your face for something other than truth. This meant more than I love you, the three, pretty little words he kept locked up beneath his ribs.Â
âYes,â he whispered, swift, eyes wide and pulsing. âYes, itâll be home for us. It's yours now, as much as itâs mine.âÂ
More tears spilled down your perfect cheeks, dripping down into the smile thatâd stolen your face. âI love you,â you said, words strong, no room to hear them incorrectly.Â
Mingi swallowed, searching your face again, breath stolen from his chest. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat. âI love you too,â he said, whispered, coated in disbelief. You meant it. You love him. You love him and he fucking loves you. âI love you,â he repeats again, assuredly, confidence in his voice, earnest and true.Â
You kiss him, and kiss him and kiss him until his clothes are thrown to the floor of the living room, yours on the floor of the bedroom.Â
He pushed into you slowly, fingers twisted above your head, tongue licking into your mouth while he made your body new. His and his only, from now until death do you part, Mingi would never let you go. Those pretty, three little words moaned, uttered, whispered, over and overâ in his ear, in his skin, while he emptied himself inside you, while you pulsed around his length. This was love. In the place his life began, with the person it would end beside.Â
Still cuddled in the queen sized bed, crocheted comforter thrown over your sweaty bodies, his fingers massaged your scalp as you laid over his chest. âI have one more thing to show you,â he said, voice low, tired.Â
You looked up at him through your raised brows, silently asking what?
You whined when he untangled himself from your body, the loss of warmth. He smiled as he opened the top left drawer on the dresser, excitement nipping at his nerve endings. You crawled to the foot of the bed, comforter still covering your naked body as Mingi pulled the contents from the drawer.Â
His baseball cards, his stamps, the book heâs held close to him since he was a child. âThese,â he laid them out on the comforter before you, âare my prized possessions. Nothing in this world, until you, have meant what these mean to me.âÂ
You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, âTell me about them.âÂ
He told you everything. From the meaning of the book, to why he needed the escape, to the baseball cards and the stamps and how theyâve left a mark on his very soul. He laid himself bare for you, the most vulnerable thing he could ever do, the very essence of his being fleshed out on a crocheted comforter.Â
You listened to every detail, touched them carefully, looking to him for permission with every movement of your fingertips. You didnât need his permissionâ not anymore. Whatâs his is yours. Heâd rip his heart out and hand it to you on a platter, if you asked.
He slept better than heâd ever slept in his life that night. Body curled into you, falling asleep to your breathing, he woke up to you by his side and he realized in that moment, this is everything heâs ever wanted. This is what heâs been waiting for, all this time. Â
Eight months into your relationship and he had a diamond ring in that same top left dresser drawer. When you know, you know, he told himself, he told his business partners, he told his staff, he told anyone that would fucking listen to the book he could write about how much he loves you. He needs youâ itâs more than love, itâs more than companionship. It's a soul tie, and how fucking lucky is he that heâs found you? That he has you?
Eight months into your relationship and this was the first weekend youâd spend apart. He paid for the plane ticket to Cancun, a weekend trip with your girlfriends, all of the ones heâs met and done background checks on. He could never be too sure, not when it came to you.Â
Hiro dropped you off at the airport, Mingi wrapped up in meetings, you assured him the night before he didnât have to hold your hand all the way to your gate, promising him with your lips wrapped around his cock. Returning the favor in the morning, he let you go not without a fight, but you won nonetheless, as you always do.Â
Waving goodbye to Hiro at the airport, you watched him drive away, turning the corner to get back on the highwayâ a smile crept onto your cheeks as his black Escalade pulled into view.Â
The driver packed your luggage in the pull-up trunk as the door was opened for you, a trickle of adrenaline kissed your bones, the base of your spine, itâs been so long since youâve seen him.Â
âBaby,â he greeted, black hair gelled back, smirk already on his lips, suit painted onto his body. You nearly drooled.Â
Your eyes widened, reality settling in that heâs real and heâs here. Heart pounding in your chest, âYunho!â You squealed, hauling yourself in the backseat of the SUV, immediately crawling onto his lap, knees bent on the leather seats.Â
His lips taste like home. Pressing yourself against him was the closest thing to heaven youâd ever felt; it was too long, a relationship only over the phone, unable to feel his touch, his lips pressed to yours. Only a few times over the last eight months had you been able to steal a glimpse, a quick kiss, your life had become too public, too quick, Yunho pushed to the shadows.Â
âI missed you,â his grin is wide, pearly white teeth on display, a flush to the apples of his cheeks. His hands landed on your hips, giving you a possessive squeeze, âYou did so good, my love.âÂ
You curled your hair around your ear, biting your lip. âYou think so?â Heat floods you as the praise leaves his lips.Â
âOne more and youâre done,â he pulls you toward him for another kiss. âGo over it for me.âÂ
âForty first street, two-one-three Ashland street. Baby blue house, spare key under a brown rock, small and circular, directly to the right of the welcome mat. I have a spare key to the penthouse, the code for the elevator is twelve ninety-seven.âÂ
Yunho raises his brows, pride in his eyes. âTwelve ninety-seven? Your birth month and year?âÂ
You can feel the heat in the tips of your ears, you tilt your head with a bashful smile. âWhat can I say? He loves me.âÂ
Large palms find your cheeks, pulling you in for another quick kiss, âI fucking love you.â
âI love you,â youâre smiling against his lips as the car is put into drive, pulling away from the drop-off lane. âThree baseball cards, a storybook, and a binder of stamps, in the top left drawer of the dresser in the bedroom. Thereâs also a ring in there, if you want that, too.âÂ
He leans back until heâs flat against the backseat, eyes blown wide. âHe was gonna propose?âÂ
âStill is,â you shrug, âprobably when I get home from âCancun.ââ
The smile that spreads across Yunhoâs cheeks would be terrifying if you were anyone else. If you didnât know him down to his very bones. He groans, head tipping back against the leather seat, âIâd fuck you right here, right now if we werenât in this fucking car.âÂ
Your smile mirrors his, eyes lowering as your finger reaches upward, pressing the button in the center of three on the ceiling. You hear the faint hum of the partition closing, severing the front seat from the back seat, and the chuckle that leaves Yunhoâs mouth has your thighs tightening around him.Â
âFor good luck,â you press a kiss to his lips, one he deepens immediately, âbefore you take everything heâs ever loved.â
summary: y/n had no idea running into the woods that day would end with her bound to the heir of the night court and forever twined between him and his best friend with winter at his fingertips
warning: under the influence of fae magic, more to be added
genre: romance, fantasy, throuple, smut
pairing: fae yunho x human afab reader x fae mingi
The scent of bread drifted from the stone ovens of Briarwood village, clinging to the morning mist that curled through the cobblestone alleys. Market stalls lined the square, draped in faded silks and wild herbs, their owners bartering with low voices and warm smiles. A lute played somewhere near the well, a lazy, drifting tune that blended with the chirping of distant birds and the creak of merchant carts rolling past.
Y/N adjusted the hem of her dress, the soft fabric brushing her ankles as she stepped over a puddle of last nightâs rain. The cream and burgundy of her gown glowed beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaf heavy trees that surrounded the village, her sleeves billowing gently as she walked. Her fingers trailed along the edge of a cart stacked with lavender, the scent clinging to her skin.
âDonât look now,â Jongho muttered at her side, âbut old Liram is charging two silvers for a single apple again.â Y/N snorted softly, brushing her long hair over her shoulder. âRobbery,â she murmured. âGood thing weâre just window shopping.â Jongho smiled, that crooked grin that had stayed with her since childhood. He looked relaxed in his linen shirt and vest, a basket in one hand, a stick of honeyed nutbread in the other. It was an easy morning, like so many before it, where the world felt smaller, safer. But it only seemed small. Beyond the edge of the village, past the moss covered stones and gnarled birch trees, the forest waited. And beyond the forest lay the Fae Barrier.
Y/N didnât look in that direction often. No one did. Not even the guards posted near the treeline. It wasnât forbidden to live this close to the Fae realms, but it wasnât encouraged either. Still⊠sheâd always felt something stir in her chest when the wind shifted from that direction. Like the trees whispered a secret just out of reach. Today, she ignored it. She and Jongho had come for thread, maybe something sweet, and to enjoy the market while it was still safe. The raids had been getting worse, not from the Fae, but from men. Bandits. Desperate ones. But not this morning. This morning felt like a held breath. Quiet. Golden.
Y/N paused at a cart selling hand carved trinkets, eyes catching on a dark wooden figurine, wings arched behind its back, the face delicately carved into something beautiful. And sharp. She reached for it. âThatâs not for you,â the old man behind the cart said. Not unkindly. Just certain. Y/N blinked. âWhy not?â He shrugged. âSome things⊠know where they belong.â She let her hand fall but the figurine stayed with her as they walked away from the cart. Carved so small and delicate, yet it haunted her. Fae, she realized. âStill thinking about it?â Jongho asked, biting off another piece of nutbread. Y/N blinked out of her thoughts. âThe carving?â
âNo, the handsome blacksmith,â he teased, nudging her arm. âYou were definitely staring.â She rolled her eyes, bumping him back. âPlease. His beard looked like it was stitched on.â They wandered farther, laughter trailing behind them, weaving between stalls. Children played near the well, tossing flower crowns onto each otherâs heads. Jongho stopped to chat with a merchant he knew from the city, and Y/N found herself drifting, slowly, quietly, toward the edge of the market. Past the dye stalls⊠past the fence of painted tin birds⊠and then she was near the forestâs edge.
It was a strange border. There was no wall, no magical shimmer, no warning. Just a thin, worn path veering off the main road, where the trees grew denser, their trunks pale and twisted like old bone. Birds no longer sang past this point. The air smelled different here, cooler, cleaner, but heavier too, as if each breath came wrapped in velvet. She shouldnât have gotten this close. She knew that. And yet⊠something tugged at her. A gentle pull, like a memory or a forgotten melody brushing against the edges of her mind. She stepped forward. Only one step before a scream sounded.
Not hers. Not close. But near enough. Y/N spun, heart racing, skirts flaring. The market had erupted, shouts, metal clashing, the unmistakable crack of a torch being dropped. Jonghoâs voice echoed through the chaos. âY/N!â Bandits. Not Fae. Humans. Armed, desperate, and already tearing through the stalls like wolves through a coop. She turned to run back, but someone crashed into her. She hit the ground hard, breath gone from her chest, ears ringing.
Boots stomped past her, swords gleamed, people screamed. Someone kicked over a cart. Fire caught in a tapestry. Through the smoke and shouting, she heard him again, Jongho, calling for her. She tried to get up, stumbled, someone grabbed her wrist, a bandit trying to drag her but Y/N spun and started running. Not toward the village. Not toward the screams. Toward the trees. It wasnât smart. But her feet were faster than her thoughts. She didnât stop until the world grew darker, the light behind her swallowed by tangled branches and moss laden trunks. The sounds of the raid faded, replaced by a low wind rustling the leaves like a whisper in another tongue.
She turned in a slow circle, chest rising and falling. She was past the line. She didnât know it yet. But something else did. She slowed only once her breath burned her throat, hands trembling as she gripped the rough bark of a tree. Her ears strained for noise, any sign of Jongho, of the village, of anything familiar, but there was only silence. Not peaceful silence. Predator silence. She turned slowly, heart hammering against her ribs. The forest here was older. Wilder. The trees leaned close together like they were conspiring. The air was thick, not just with mist but with magic, she could feel it in her skin, humming low beneath her flesh like a vibration. And then it shifted.
The birds didnât flee. They had long since vanished. But something else moved. Branches snapped behind her. Heavy. Deliberate. She froze. Barely breathed. Another snap. Closer. Then she saw it. It stepped from the shadows like it had always been part of them, massive, hunched, and wrong. Itâs back scraped the lower branches, itâs claws dragged against the ground, and itâs eyes⊠itâs eyes glowed gold through the gloom. Not the gleam of intelligence. The gleam of hunger. Its head resembled a wolf, elongated and snarling, but the bulk of it was too massive, like a bear, shoulders thick with muscle, haunches too wide, claws like daggers. Fur matted in patches, wet and dark, the color of rot and ash.
It sniffed the air. And turned toward her and Y/N bolted. Her dress snagged on underbrush, thorns tore at her sleeves, roots clawed at her feet, but she didnât stop. She couldnât. The beast behind her gave a growl that turned into something more, a deep, guttural roar that echoed through the trees, shaking birds loose from branches far above. The ground sloped downward and she stumbled, slid and kept running as the creature followed, crashing through the forest like a storm given form, branches cracking under its weight. It didnât need stealth. It was terror. It knew she was alone, knew she was human, knewâŠ.
She tripped. Her knees slammed into moss and stone, hands scraping raw as she hit the forest floor. She turned, gasping, dress soaked in dew and dirt, as the beast approached. Closer now. Eyes locked on her. Mouth open. Teeth bared. But a shadow moved suddenly. Not hers. Not the creatureâs. Something else. Something fast. Something silent as the creature lunged. Y/Nâs scream barely left her lips before something else hit the clearing, a blur of motion, blacker than shadow, faster than lightning.
The creature snarled mid leap, twisted in the air, and thenâŠ. CRACK. A sound like bone shattering echoed through the trees making Y/N flinch, blinking against the blur, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. The beast lay twitching, chest heaving. And standing above it, unmoving, was a figure cloaked in darkness. Tall. Broad shouldered. Wrapped in a long coat of black that flowed around him like smoke. His hair, dark, messy, and windblown, fell across his brows, eyes burning beneath it like dying stars. He didnât speak at first. He just looked at the dying creature beneath his boot, then lifted a hand, fingers splayed. The shadows around him moved. Tendrils of dark slipped from beneath his sleeves, from his palms, from the very ground beneath him, and wrapped around the beastâs body. It gave one last gurgling wheeze. Then stilled.
Y/N could barely breathe. Her hands trembled against the forest floor, dirt streaked across her gown, blood from her scraped palms dotting the pale fabric. She opened her mouth to speak, to thank him, maybe, but he turned on her with lightning speed. Before she could blink, he was in front of her, crouched low, one hand gripping her arm in a firm, cold grasp. âWhy,â he hissed, voice low and sharp as a blade, âare you in our lands?â Y/N stared at him, wide eyed, heart thundering. His features were unreal up close, sharp, elegant, carved from something ancient and beautiful. Too beautiful. Then she caught a glimpse of his pointed tipped ears. Fae. âIâŠ. I didnât mean to,â she stammered. âI was running. I didnât knowâŠâ
âYou crossed the border.â His eyes flared, shadows writhing behind him. âHumans donât survive here.â He yanked her to her feet, easily, as if she weighed nothing, and spun her around toward the direction she came. âGo. Now. Before something worse finds you.â She stumbled forward, heart pounding, legs shaking. But then, a voice like oiled silk slipped through the trees. âWell, well. Isnât this a charming little scene.â The fae man that saved her stiffened behind her. His grip didnât loosen, but he turned his head, just enough to glance sideways. Y/N followed his gaze and saw a man saunter into the clearing, hands behind his back, smile sharp enough to cut. He looked like nobility dressed in arrogance, pale hair slicked back, ears on display, cloak pristine, eyes like moonstone and just as cold.
âTidus,â Y/Nâs reluctant fae savior growled and Tidus smiled wide. âYou know the law, Yunho. A fae saves a human lifeâŠâ Yunhoâs jaw clenched as Tidus continued, stepping closer with maddening calm, âShe belongs to you now.â Y/Nâs heart dropped like a stone. âWaitâŠ. what?â she breathed, twisting to look between the two fae. âNo. No, no, thatâs⊠there must be a mistake. I only ran in here by accident. I didnât know. I wasnât trying to cross. There were bandits⊠real onesâŠ. attacking the village, I just ran and didnât look where I was going, I didnât mean toâŠ.â Her voice cracked. Her hands trembled, dirt caked in her scraped palms as she took a shaky step back from both of them. âThis isnât fair. You canât just say Iâm⊠his.â
Tidus let out a slow, amused exhale, eyes gleaming as if this were the best entertainment heâd had in centuries. âOh, sweetheart,â he purred. âIntent doesnât matter. The magic doesnât care about your reasons.â He stepped closer, his smile all thorns. âFae law is simple. One of us saves one of you, and the bond is sealed. Itâs old magic. Deep magic. Unbreakable.â Y/N looked to Yunho desperately, but he wasnât looking at her. He was still glaring at Tidus, shadows curling slowly around his shoulders like smoke licking the edges of a flame. âAnd him,â Tidus added with a low chuckle, âhim of all fae, Yunho, the crown prince of the Night Court, oh, your timing is perfect.â He gave an exaggerated sigh. âYour father is going to love this.â
Yunhoâs jaw ticked. âTidusâŠ.â
âHe hates humans,â Tidus continued, grinning now, almost delighted. âDespises them, actually. Says theyâre filth with no place in our realm. And yet here you are. Standing here with one across the border like sheâs a lost kitten. A cute one, mind you.â Yunho stepped forward, barely, but the shadows at his feet surged making Tidus raise his hands, feigning innocence. âNow, now. Iâm only speaking the truth. You saved her. Sheâs yours. And your father will either demand you cast her out and let the magic kill her, or accept her and choke on the shame of it.â
Y/N shook her head. âI didnât ask to be saved.â Tidus turned toward her again, voice syrupy and cruel. âAnd yet here you are. Bound to the heir of the Night Court.â Her breath hitched. Bound. Her eyes snapped to Yunho, who still hadnât looked at her. She was shaking. Cold. Confused. Her world had broken apart in minutes and now the pieces no longer fit. âI want to go home,â she whispered and Yunhoâs jaw clenched again as Tidus just smiled cruelly amused.
Y/N didnât think. She just ran. Her feet hit the forest floor hard, skirts gathered in her fists as she bolted between the trees, breath tearing from her chest in sharp, panicked gasps. Branches lashed at her arms, thorns snagged her sleeves, but she didnât slow, not until she reached the edge of the clearing, until she could see the faint thinning of the trees where the forest lightened, where the air felt less heavy. Home was there. Just a little farther. She pushed harderâŠ.. and her body stopped. Not stumbled. Not tripped. Stopped. Mid step. Her foot hovered inches above the ground, muscles locked, lungs burning as if the air had suddenly turned to stone in her chest. Panic surged, sharp and blinding, as she tried to move again. Nothing.
Her fingers twitched uselessly. Her legs refused to obey. It felt as if invisible hands wrapped around her spine, her ribs, her very bones, holding her in place with unyielding force. âNoâŠ. no, please,â she whispered, terror clawing up her throat. âPleaseâŠâ She tried to scream. The sound barely escaped her lips as footsteps crunched behind her, unhurried. Calm. Tidusâs voice came first, smooth and satisfied. âTold you.â She felt tears spill hot and helpless down her cheeks as the pressure tightened, not painful, but absolute. Like the world itself had decided she was not allowed to leave.
Yunho appeared in her peripheral vision next, shadows coiling around him like living things. He stopped a few steps away, eyes locked on her rigid form, and for the first time, he looked shaken. The magic thrummed between them, ancient and unmistakable. A low, resonant pull settled in his chest, heavy as a chain snapping into place. Bound. Y/Nâs knees finally gave as the spell loosened just enough to let her collapse forward, but she never hit the ground. Yunho caught her. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other bracing her shoulders as her legs folded beneath her. She clutched at his coat instinctively, fingers digging into black fabric as she gasped for breath, body shaking. âI canâtâŠâ she choked. âI tried to run. It wouldnât let me.â
âI know,â Yunho said quietly. His voice had changed. Gone was the sharp edge, the command. What remained was low, controlled, threaded with something dangerously close to guilt. He straightened, lifting her easily against his chest, her head resting just beneath his chin. Tidus watched with open amusement. âAh. There it is. The bond asserting itself. Strong, too. Mustâve rooted deep.â Yunhoâs shadows flared, dark tendrils snapping outward before reining themselves back in. âEnough.â Tidus only laughed softly. âYou feel it now, donât you? The pull. The responsibility.â His cold eyes flicked down to Y/N. âSheâs not going anywhere.â
Y/Nâs grip tightened on Yunhoâs coat as she looked up at him, eyes glassy with fear. âYou wonât⊠give me to him, will you?â Yunhoâs jaw set. âNo,â he said. Firm. Certain. âI wonât.â Tidus arched a brow. âCareful, my prince. That sounded an awful lot like attachment.â Yunho didnât respond. He simply turned, shadows opening a path deeper into the forest, away from the border, away from the life she knew. And carried her with him.
They stopped just before the Night Courtâs edge, where the trees thinned and the mountain cliffs began to rise like carved obsidian. Moonlight spilled over the landscape in silvery waves, illuminating the faint outline of a distant city carved into the side of the cliffs. The Moon City. A place built of secrets and shadowglass, where stars were caught in lanterns and the cobbled streets whispered with old magic. But Y/N didnât see any of it. She was slumped against the base of a twisted silverwood tree, unconscious, her chest rising and falling in shallow, even breaths. Dirt streaked her cheeks. Her dress was torn at the hem. One of her hands curled loosely around the edge of Yunhoâs coat, even now.
Yunho stood a few paces away, pacing the edge of a narrow ridge like a tethered storm. His hair was pushed back from his face now, shadows clinging to his shoulders like a cloak that refused to fall. His hands were clenched into fists. Every few seconds, a ripple of power surged from him, the kind that made the trees lean back. And nearby, leaning casually against a boulder as if he hadnât just stirred an ancient law into chaos, Tidus. Smiling, arms crossed, perfectly unbothered. âYou might as well just accept it,â he said lazily, examining his nails. âThe girlâs yours now. You shouldâve just let that beast tear her in half. Wouldâve saved everyone the trouble.â
Yunho stopped pacing slowly and turned. Tidus grinned wider. âBut no. You had to play noble. And now? WellâŠâ He gestured vaguely toward Y/N. âIf she even thinks about crossing the border again, that magic will snap her like a twig.â Yunhoâs expression didnât change. But the air around him grew colder. Still. âYou think I donât know that?â he said, voice low, controlled. Tidus lifted a brow. âI think youâre pretending itâs not going to get worse. You havenât even brought her into the city yet, and already sheâs shaking like a leaf. Just wait until your father sees her.â Yunhoâs jaw flexed, and his gaze flicked briefly back to Y/N and Tidus followed it, then hummed. âSheâs pretty. For a human. That wonât matter when Alec finds out. You think heâll tolerate you dragging her into court? You think heâll let her live?â
Yunhoâs voice dropped, barely more than a whisper. âIâll protect her.â Tidus laughed. âYou donât get it, do you? Sheâs not just with you now. Sheâs part of you. Every breath. Every wound. Every thought.â He tapped his temple. âThat bond doesnât just link bodies. It links souls.â Yunhoâs hands curled tighter at his sides. Shadows pulsed once, dark and slow like a heartbeat and Tidus smirked. âYou can try to deny it all you want,â he said. âBut you feel her already. Donât you?â Yunho said nothing. But his eyes drifted back to Y/N. And this time, they didnât leave her as she began to move.
Y/N stirred beneath a stretch of woven velvet. The fabric was unfamiliar, soft but heavy, scented faintly of cedar and smoke. Her lashes fluttered. Her muscles ached. Her mind felt foggy, like sheâd been drifting too close to some deep current, and just now broke the surface. She gasped. Sat upright. But before she could panic again, a voice, low and calm, cut through the haze. âYouâre safe.â Her head snapped toward it. Yunho stood only a few feet away, hands folded behind his back. The wind tugged at his hair. His expression was unreadable, but his voice had lost the edge from earlier. We have to go,â he said simply. âWeâre close to the city. Iâd rather be inside the walls before the patrols shift.â Y/N blinked at him, throat dry. âCity?â He hesitated for a moment. âThe Night Court.â
Her stomach flipped. But before she could protest, the shadows behind him pulled apart like a curtain, and the path lit by soft floating orbs of pale blue shimmered into being. A road woven between obsidian trees, paved in black stone veined with silver, led them toward the jagged rise of the cliffs. And above, carved into the very mountainside, was something she couldnât have imagined in her wildest dreams. The Moon City. It rose like a dream of starlight and stone, buildings etched with glowing runes, towers like blades of onyx piercing the sky, bridges suspended in air between spires of silvered glass. Everything glowed softly with magic. The city was alive with it, breathing, pulsing. And silent. Too silent.
Yunho approached her, offering his hand. She didnât take it. But she followed, wrapping herself in his coat she still clung to. They walked side by side in silence for nearly a mile, Tidus trailing behind, the air thick with tension and unspoken thoughts. The cliffs loomed higher, and the gates finally came into view, two towering crescent shaped doors, wrought from black metal that shimmered with constellations. Each star etched into them pulsed faintly, as though sensing Yunhoâs approach. The guards were already waiting. Four of them. Clad in black armor with helms like split moonstone, long spears resting against their shoulders. Their eyes, cold, fae, unblinking, tracked every step Y/N took. And when they saw her⊠they stilled.
One of them shifted slightly. Not reaching for his weapon, but close and Yunho caught it. âSheâs with me,â he said. Quiet. Final, but still, they stared. Y/N felt it like needles along her skin. That she didnât belong. That no one like her ever had. Because no human had ever walked these gates before. She swallowed, the urge to shrink back nearly overwhelming. But then Yunho moved forward, slow and certain. The gates didnât creak. Didnât groan. They breathed. Light shimmered through the veins of the metal, glowing brighter with each step until, whoosh, they pulled apart, silent as a sigh. And before them, the moon city opened like a secret. Yunho glanced at her once, just briefly as Tidus trudged past them, snickering to himself. âStay close,â he murmured. âThey donât like surprises.â Then he stepped forward and Y/N followed him into the heart of the Night Court.
The Moon City was unnaturally quiet. Not silent, but hushed in a way that made every footstep echo. Every whisper carry. Y/N followed just behind Yunho, her head slightly bowed, though she kept her eyes moving. It was impossible not to. The city was breathtaking, beautiful in a way that felt forbidden. Buildings carved directly into the mountain glimmered with veins of crystal and silver lit runes. Shadow lanterns floated lazily through the air, illuminating cobblestone streets of black glass. Bridges arched over rivers of what looked like liquid starlight. Markets had closed for the night, but she could still see them, open air stalls draped in gossamer, bottles glowing faintly in their racks, silks that shimmered like fog. And everywhere she looked, eyes. Fae eyes. Fae ears. Fae beauty. All of them watching her. Men and women paused in alleyways. Children peeked from behind courtyards. Guard patrols stood straighter, spears tilting slightly toward her as she passed. No one spoke directly to them. But the whispers were already spreading like wildfire.
âA human?â
âIs she glamoured?â
âWhy is she with the prince?â
âHas the heir lost his mind?â
Yunho said nothing. He didnât even look at them, his presence was enough to keep them from getting too close, but it didnât stop the stares. Y/N kept her head down. She could feel it crawling over her, judgment, suspicion, disgust. Her stomach twisted. Her boots clicked softly over polished obsidian stone, every step an echo of not belonging. And then the city parted. They reached the foot of a vast stairway carved into the mountainside itself. It rose into the dark like something out of myth, lined in glowing runes, flanked by statues of creatures she couldnât name. Winged beasts. Cloaked figures. Something with antlers and a crown of thorns. And at the top, the Palace of Shadows. Not a castle, exactly. Not in the human sense. It was too⊠fluid. Parts of it flickered faintly at the edges, as though it wasnât always fully there. Towers rose like midnight flame, curved windows framed in silver, the entire structure shifting with the light, blending into the mountain, into the sky, into nothing at all.
Y/N stopped at the base of the stairs. âThatâs your home?â Yunho paused beside her. For a moment, his expression flickered, just enough for her to catch it. Weariness. âYes,â he said. Then, quieter, âItâs not as cold as it looks.â She looked at the hundreds of steps. The shadows curling at the doors. The palace that looked like it was born from the bones of the moon. âI donât think I believe you,â she muttered and Yunhoâs mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost. But he didnât respond. He just started up the steps. And behind them, the whispers followed.
The palace was even darker inside. Not with gloom, but with elegance. Velvet shadows clung to every surface, broken only by flickering wall sconces of silver fire that burned without smoke or scent. The air was cooler here, charged with quiet power. Every hall echoed like it had ears. Yunho walked with purpose, steps long and sure, and Y/N stayed close, practically glued to his side now, wishing his coat could make her disappear. The further they went, the more the shadows seemed to move on their own. Some doors opened for Yunho without him touching them. Some whispered as they passed. She tried not to look too closely at the portraits on the walls, some of the faces didnât stay still. At the end of a long hall, two towering doors stood closed, carved from deep obsidian and inlaid with silver veins in the shape of a great crescent moon. Two guards stood before them, expressionless, armor gleaming black under the low light. They didnât move, didnât question Yunhoâs approach. They simply opened the doors. And the throne room swallowed them whole.
It was massive, an open rotunda beneath a vaulted ceiling painted with stars that moved. The floor was polished black glass, reflecting every step like a mirror. Pillars rose like spears into the dark, and at the far end sat a crescent shaped dais. Upon it, a throne of jagged stone. And on that throne⊠Alec. Yunhoâs father. The King of the Night Court. He was draped in deep violet robes lined in fur, crown like forged moonlight twisted around his brow. His hair was ink black and slicked back, no softness in the angles of his face. His eyes were silver. Piercing. Cold. He looked like a statue carved from ice and obsidian. Yunho didnât bow. He only stopped a few paces short, standing straight, hands behind his back. âFather.â Alecâs gaze flicked from Yunho to Y/N. Slowly. Sharply. And the silence that followed was absolute. What,â Alec said, voice deep and razor edged, âis that?â Y/N froze but Yunho didnât blink. âSheâs human,â he said. Calm. Controlled. âI saved her life.â Alecâs stare sharpened. âSo youâve brought a pet.â He practically hissed.
âNo,â Yunho said, louder this time. âIâve brought someone who is now bound to me. The law was witnessed. The magic sealed it.â The room seemed to inhale as Alec rose, slow and deliberate. âYou bound yourself⊠to a human?â Yunhoâs spine straightened, chin raised. âI didnât choose it. The magic did.â Alec descended the dais, each step echoing like a crack of thunder against the glass floor. âAnd yet you brought her here. Across the border. Into this palace. Into my court.â He stopped just in front of Yunho, his height matching his sonâs, but his aura was heavier, oppressive. Then he turned to Y/N and his lip curled. âYou should have let her die.â
Yunho moved subtly. A shift. A shadow curling tighter behind his heels. âStop glaring at her like youâre going to rip her throat out,â he said and Alecâs eyes snapped back to his son. Dangerous. But Yunho didnât flinch. âIâll take responsibility for her,â he said. âWhatever it costs.â Alec was silent. For a beat. Two. Then, he smiled. But it wasnât kind. âYou will.â Then he turned and walked back toward his throne, robe trailing behind him like spilled ink. âShe stays. But not in the guest wing.â Yunhoâs brow furrowed. âWhere, then?â Alec sat. âIn yours.â
The silence in the palace halls was thicker now. Yunho didnât speak as they left the throne room, just walked with tight shoulders and a clenched jaw, each step sharper than the last. Y/N followed without question. Her pulse still hadnât settled from Alecâs stare, and her hands had curled into fists just to keep them from shaking. She wasnât sure what was worse, the kingâs disgust, or Yunhoâs absolute calm in the face of it. The corridors they passed were more ornate now, arched ceilings carved with constellations, floor mosaics of dragons and wolves and crowned stags. Lanterns floated in slow spirals overhead, casting silver light across the velvet lined walls.
Eventually, Yunho stopped at a tall black door etched with crescent runes. He waved a hand and the lock clicked softly, the door creaking open. Y/N hesitated as Yunho stepped inside first and glanced over his shoulder. âCome on.â The room inside wasnât what she expected. It was large, but not cold. Dark wood floors, shelves full of old books, and windows looking out over the cliffside view of the city far below. A fireplace glowed low in the corner, flames blue. The bed, massive and low to the ground, was wrapped in black linens and draped with shadow thin silk. Candles burned without flame, just quiet orbs of silvery light hovering in glass. It didnât feel like royalty. It felt like someone who didnât want to be seen. Yunho crossed the room, grabbed a folded blanket from the window bench, and set it on the edge of the bed. âYouâll stay here for now.â
Y/N blinked, removing his coat and handing it back to him. âThis is your room?â She had never stayed in a room so luxurious before. âIâm not staying.â His tone was clipped. âIâll get a room arranged for you. Just⊠stay here until I come back. Donât open the door for anyone. Donât answer if someone knocks.â She stared at him but he didnât meet her eyes. âI donât want to be here,â she said quietly and Yunho sighed. âI know.â He finally turned to her. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was softer now, lower. âI donât know your nameâŠ.â She stared at him, hesitant before giving it to him. âY/N.â
Yunho repeated her name quietly to himself before stepping a little closer, gripping his coat in his hand. âI didnât ask for this either,â he said. âBut I wonât let them hurt you. Not even my father.â Y/N swallowed hard, unsure if she wanted to scream or cry or just sleep for a decade. âDonât be long,â she whispered. Yunho nodded once before he left. The door clicked shut behind him and Y/N stood alone in the middle of a princeâs bedroom, in a palace of shadows, in a kingdom that hated her. And for the first time since the raid, she let herself fall to the floor and breathe.
The silence after Yunho left felt alive. It pressed into Y/Nâs skin, crawling under it like cold mist. But eventually, her legs stopped shaking, and she rose slowly from the floor. The fire still burned low as she wandered. Not far, just enough to distract herself, to breathe. Her fingers brushed the spine of a book on a nearby shelf. Then another. And another. Hundreds lined the walls, the titles in languages she couldnât read, some without titles at all, just symbols etched in silver or black ink. She pulled one free. Inside, hand drawn diagrams of constellations, circles of magic, binding sigils. But what caught her eye more were the loose papers tucked between books. Drawings. Dozens of them.
Some were rough sketches. Some were detailed enough to look alive. Wings. Creatures. Landscapes. A lone tree on a cliff beneath a cracked moon. One of an older fae woman that resembled Yunho in features. And in the margins, little handwritten notes. SoâŠ. he draws. She set the pages down carefully. Her heart still felt bruised, but there was something grounding in it. He wasnât just a blade in black. He thought. He saw the world. Maybe even felt it. She turned toward the bed and froze as the door creaked open. Panic bloomed. She backed up fast, hands trembling as she nearly tripped over a velvet cushion on the floor.
A figure stepped inside. Tall. Broad. Not Yunho. Definitely not Yunho. He wore all black too, looser, draped, more casual, but his long coat was left open, inside silk white, revealing a loose shirt beneath and wide silver white cuffs at his wrists. His pale blue gray hair was pushed back messily, strands falling into his eyes. His presence was colder than Yunhoâs, more unpredictable. His expression unreadable. Until he saw her and he stopped. Stormy silver unnaturally colored eyes, like the shade of a winters storm, scanned her, confused, cautious, and then narrowing slightly. His mouth parted like he might speak, but all that came out was⊠âYou are not Yunho.â
Y/Nâs heart pounded. âHeâs not here,â she said quickly. âHe said to stayâŠ. he left⊠he said he was coming back with a roomâŠ.â The stranger held up a hand, brow still furrowed. âWhoa. Slow down.â He stepped fully into the room, gaze sweeping over her, first at the dress, then the torn hem, then the faint smudge of dirt still on her wrist. âYouâre a human,â he said flatly and Y/Nâs spine straightened. âSeriously, is that stamped on my forehead?â He blinked. âNo. Just⊠what the hell are you doing in Yunhoâs room?â That got her. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, a little bitterly, âApparently, Iâm his problem now.â The man squinted. âWhat?â She stepped back toward the fire, letting her hands drop to her sides. âHe saved my life. Something about fae magic. Bonded or bound or whatever it is you people do when you save someone and then treat them like they ruined your week.â
The stranger stared at her for a long beat. Then ran a hand down his face. âOh, he really didnât mention this.â Y/N crossed her arms. âYou two close?â The stranger grinned then, almost like a wolf. âClose enough I shouldâve heard about the mortal girl sleeping in his bed.â She blushed instantly. âIâm not⊠Iâm not sleeping in his bed.â His smirk told her he didnât believe it. Then he softened. Just a bit. âIâm Mingi,â he said, finally stepping closer and offering a hand. âI donât usually walk into Yunhoâs room expecting guests, but⊠guess tonightâs special.â Y/N hesitated⊠then shook it. âY/N,â she said. âAnd trust meâŠ. specialâs not the word Iâd use.â
Mingi closed Yunhoâs bedroom door behind him, still blinking like he wasnât entirely sure what heâd just walked into. A human. In his best friendâs room. And not just any human. She looked like sheâd gone through hell, scraped hands, torn dress, guarded eyes, but still had the fire to snap back at him with attitude. He grinned as he walked down the candlelit hall, hands in his pockets, steps light on the polished stone. âYou are not Yunho,â he muttered to himself, mocking his own first words with a smirk. âNo shit.â He turned the next corridor and found Yunho just ahead, deep in quiet conversation with one of the palace attendants, a young male fae dressed in crisp silver trimmed robes. Wooyoung.
They stood near the grand staircase that spiraled toward the private wings, and Yunho, as always, was composed. Even after tonight. Even now. âThe room two doors down from mine,â Yunho was saying, voice low but calm. âPrepare it for a guest. Fresh linens, warm water. No questions.â Wooyoung bowed dramatically. âYes, my prince. Yunho nodded once and turned just as Mingi stepped into view, arms crossed, that stupid smirk already stretching across his face and Yunho sighed the moment he saw him. âI donât want to hear it.â
âOh, you absolutely do,â Mingi said, laughing. âYou have a human. In your room.â Yunho gave him a warning glare. âItâs temporary.â Mingi snorted. âSure it is,â He drawled, stepping up beside him as Yunho pinched the bridge of his nose. âI didnât exactly have a choice.â Mingiâs grin only widened. âYou never bring anyone to your room. Not even the other heirs during court season. Not even me half the time.â Yunho scoffed at him. âBecause you rifle through my shit.â Mingi grinned. âI still do, you just donât catch me.â Yunho gave him a sideways glance, dry and unimpressed as Mingi leaned casually against the railing. âSheâs beautifulâŠ. for a human.â Yunho didnât answer. Didnât have to. The silence was already loud enough.
The knock on the door came soft, but firm. Y/N startled, again, and turned quickly from the window where sheâd been staring out at the endless, starlit drop below the cliffside. Her fingers were still twitching from nerves, every creak of the palace sounding like danger. But the door didnât creak open ominously this time. It opened gently and Yunho stood there. Composed. Tired. Still cloaked in black and shadow, but something in his expression looked⊠softened. Behind him, leaned against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, was Mingi, grinning like he was watching a slow burn story of chaos unfold before him. âWeâve prepared your room,â Yunho said.
Y/N nodded stiffly, brushing her palms down the sides of her skirt. She didnât move right away. âSo Iâm getting kicked out of your space now?â Mingi snorted behind him as Yunhoâs eyes flicked to her, tired, patient. âI told you it was temporary.â Still, there was no sharpness to it. Just inevitability as Y/N walked past him wordlessly, catching the faint scent of cedar and night air as she passed. Mingi gave her a short bow that was equal parts mockery and charm. âLady Human.â
âOh, my gods,â she muttered.
They didnât go far, just two doors down the hall, but it might as well have been another world. The door here was simpler, carved from dark wood rather than veined obsidian. Still elegant. Still royal. But not his. Yunho opened it for her and gestured her inside. The room was smaller than his, but still impossibly grand. Canopy bed. Fireplace already lit with that same blue flame. Windows overlooking the dark valley. A small dressing table, a wardrobe she didnât want to think about filling, andâŠ. a fae inside. Young looking. Slender. Raven hair falling into his eyes, which were sharp and dark as ink. He wore black and silver robes, fitted and stylish, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was currently fluffing a pillow with unnecessary force.
âOh,â he said brightly when they entered. âSheâs cute.â Y/N blinked as Yunho sighed. âWooyoung.â
âWhat?â The fae, Wooyoung, apparently, turned and gave Y/N a dazzling smile. âSheâs the first human to ever sleep in the Moon City without being, you know, chained to a wall. I feel like that earns her a compliment.â He was joking, only half heartedly as Yunho gave him a flat look. âSheâs your charge. Try not to scare her.â Wooyoung gasped, feigning as if he had been insulted. âTry? I thought it was mandatory.â Mingi chuckled behind them as Y/N looked between them, eyes narrowing. âHeâs my what now?â Yunho turned to her, finally meeting her gaze. âHeâs a servant of the lesser court. Assigned to this wing. Heâll assist you. Clothes, food, directions, anything you need. Just⊠be clear.â
âPlease,â Wooyoung cut in with a wink. âBe very clear. Iâm wildly efficient but tragically under supervised.â Y/N raised a brow. âAnd what exactly do you get out of this?â Wooyoung grinned. âOh,â he purred, âI live for gossip. And your existence is going to turn this entire court on its head.â Y/N exhaled slowly and looked back at Yunho. âYou sure I canât stay in your room?â Mingi wheezed behind them but Yunho didnât react. Instead, he simply said, âIf you need anything, real help, ask for me directly. Not him.â Wooyoung gasped, offended. âIâm right here, you know.â
âI know.â Yunho turned to go, nodding once toward Mingi, who pushed off the wall to follow as Y/N stepped into her new room slowly, eyes trailing over the space. âDo you at least know how to make tea?â she asked over her shoulder. âDarling,â Wooyoung said, already opening the wardrobe with flair, âI know how to make scandal. Teaâs a warm up.â
The door to Yunhoâs quarters whispered shut behind him with a quiet click. He exhaled slowly and finally let the tension in his shoulders bleed out as he crossed the room. His coat hit the back of a chair. His fingers raked through his hair. He was halfway to pouring himself a glass of something strong when the door opened again without a knock. Yunho didnât even look up. âWhy are you still here?â Mingi strode in like he owned the place, tossing himself onto the cushioned bench by the fire, stretching long limbs like a lounging cat as Yunho gave him a pointed stare. âYou said you were going home. For your brotherâs wedding.â
âI was,â Mingi replied, flopping onto his side and stealing the glass Yunho had just poured. âBut then my father started in on the whole marry someone respectable speech again.â Yunho raised a brow, crossing his arms. âYou mean the speech heâs been giving you since you turned 100?â Mingi took a sip. âThis time he named names.â Yunho turned back toward the sideboard, muttering, âLet me guess. Priscilla.â
âPriscilla,â Mingi groaned, flopping onto his back with all the grace of a dying swan. âSheâs like two hundred years older than me. She calls me, little one. Little one, Yunho.â Yunho winced. âThatâs a crime.â
âRight?!â Mingi sat up. âShe has a collection of gemstone frogs. She said one looked like me.â Yunho looked vaguely horrified. âYou made the right call.â Mingi grinned. âSo instead of being force fed bridal ceremonies and betrothal contracts, I came back to find you playing house with a mortal girl.â Yunho shot him a glare over his shoulder. âIâm not playing anything.â Mingi just took another drink, smug. âYou know, the last time you broke protocol, it was over me sneaking firewhiskey into the star chamber. Now itâs over a human with dirt on her knees.â
âDonât push it.â Yunho glared. âYouâre just lucky I came back when I did. Imagine poor Y/N opening the door to your fatherâs wrath instead of my face.â He raised the glass like a toast. âYouâre welcome, by the way.â Yunho dragged a hand down his face as Mingi laughed softly. Then, a little more gently, âShe looked scared, man.â Yunho didnât answer right away. He just looked toward his door, toward the direction of the hall where her room now sat. âI know,â he said finally as Mingi tilted his head. âYouâre already protective.â
Y/N had just curled up by the fire with a cup of whatever warm herbal nonsense Wooyoung had insisted she drink when he returned, arms dramatically full, eyes alight with purpose. âI come bearing gifts,â he announced, shouldering the door open with his hip. She blinked as he swept past her, arms stacked with fabric that shimmered like starlight and shadows. âWait, what is all that?â Wooyoung grinned. âYour new wardrobe. Youâre in the Night Court now, darling. You canât go around looking like you crawled out of a storybook peasant tragedy.â
âI was almost eaten by a monster,â she muttered, setting the cup down. âExactly,â he said, already laying the dresses out across the bed with delicate care. âWhich is why weâre going full dark enchantress with your look. Let them stare, theyâre going to choke on how good you look doing it.â He fluffed the first gown, sleek, corseted black with a structured bodice, intricate embroidery like vines across the neckline, and a matching high neck cloak embroidered with silver. Regal. Striking. Untouchable. âThis one?â he said, âScreams, try me and die. Itâs my personal favorite.â
Next, he spread out a softer silhouette, flowing black with sheer off shoulder sleeves that trailed like smoke, cinched at the waist with a delicate chain of star shaped charms. It was haunting and ethereal, less armor, more mystery. âAnd this one?â Wooyoung turned with a wink. âYou wear this to stroll past the nobles who said youâd never last a week. Bonus if your hairâs still damp and you donât make eye contact.â Y/N stepped forward, brushing her fingers over the last dress. Midnight blue velvet. Deep neckline. Beaded with starlight and snowflake glimmers. The sleeves were sheer lace, bell shaped at the wrist, and the bodice hugged the waist like a whispered threat. She whispered, âThis is⊠beautifulâŠ. It looks likeâŠ. Darkness and winter.â
Wooyoung placed his hands on his hips, eyes softening. âYou are in the land of dreams, sweetheart. You should feel like one.â Y/N swallowed. She hadnât worn anything this beautiful in her entire life. Let alone been given something like this. âI donât even know how to put something like that on,â she admitted and Wooyoungâs grin turned wicked. âLucky for you, I do. Now choose. Because eventually, His Broody Highness will come knocking.â
And Wooyoung didnât joke, the knock on Y/Nâs door was a single, firm thud thud about an hour later. Wooyoung raised a brow from where he was fussing with the collar of her cloak. âThatâll be your new owner.â Y/N groaned. âPlease stop saying that.â He just winked, smoothing the fabric one last time before stepping back. âJust remember, chin up, spine straight, and if anyone even looks like they want to bite you, bite first.â Before she could reply, the door opened and Yunho stood there. He paused the moment he saw her. And stayed paused. His jaw flexed once. Then again.
Y/Nâs throat dried. The dress was the midnight velvet one, deep blue that shimmered like ink under moonlight, cinched at the waist, long sleeved and low cut, the bodice sculpted like it was made for her. Her hair was pulled back loosely, two strands framing her face. The dark cloak hung from her shoulders like a whisper as Yunhoâs eyes dragged down, then back up, and his lips parted. âThatâs the one you picked?â
âShe didnât pick it,â Wooyoung said, smugly. âIt picked her.â Yunho blinked once, expression unreadable, then turned slightly. âWeâre going to dinner.â Y/N felt her heart pounding, nerves back at the thought of seeing any other fae, specifically Yunhoâs father again. âWaitâŠ. Iâm going to dinner?â Yunho gave a short nod. âYouâre with me. That bond didnât exactly come with a, hide the human clause.â Wooyoungâs laughter was a delighted cackle as he flopped onto the bed. âOh, this is so much better than I hoped.â
Yunho stepped aside, letting her pass. Mingi leaned against the wall just outside, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes did a slow once over of her outfit. âWell, shit. You clean up nice for a human.â Y/N scowled at him. âThanks⊠I think.â Mingi snorted and fell into step behind them. As they walked through the corridors of the palace, dark stone, moonlit windows, walls pulsing with ancient magic, Yunho said nothing. Neither did she. But she could feel the heat of his gaze drifting toward her every few seconds like gravity had betrayed him. âYou donât have to bring me to dinner, you know,â she said under her breath. âI donât even think your father likes you, let alone me.â
âI know,â Yunho murmured. âThatâs exactly why Iâm bringing you.â She stopped mid step. âYouâre trying to piss him off?â He didnât stop walking, just smirked as they kept walking. The dining hall of the Night Court was something out of a dream, or a nightmare, depending on your perspective. Columns of obsidian climbed toward a ceiling lost in shadow. A long table of carved blackstone stretched down the middle, its edges lined in silver that shimmered like starlight. Dark crystal chandeliers hovered above, swaying subtly despite the still air. Dozens of fae were already seated, laughter low and curious glances sharp as blades.
And at the very end of the table, on a throne made of twisted metal and bone⊠Alec. Yunho didnât hesitate. He held Y/Nâs hand, guiding her to the seat beside his, one of only two carved differently, for royalty. The instant she sat, the room shifted. Conversation stilled. Heads tilted. Eyes narrowed. A human. In the palace. At that table. âBrave or stupid,â someone muttered. âIâm betting both,â someone else replied. Footsteps echoed as a figure swaggered toward them, his silver tipped boots catching the light. Tidus dropped into the seat across from Y/N, grinning like a cat presented with a trembling bird. âYou clean up well,â he said lazily, draping an arm across the back of the chair next to him.
Another figure slid into the seat on her other side, this one younger, leaner, wide eyed. âHi!â the boy said, way too enthusiastically. âIâm Gunho. Are you really human? Like, real human? Not like cursed or half shifted or glamour disguised orâŠ.â
âGunho,â Yunho warned without looking. âWhat? Sheâs cool!â Gunho beamed at Y/N. âIâve never met a human before! What do you eat? Whatâs your favorite animal? Do you have dreams? Like visions? Are your teeth all the same size?â Y/N blinked. âUh. Yes? Mostly deer. And yes.â Gunho lit up. âAmazing.â From the head of the table, a voice like cracked granite thundered. âEnough.â Alecâs face was carved from stone, lines etched deep across his brow, his silver streaked hair pulled back in a harsh twist. He hadnât touched his wine. He hadnât blinked since they walked in. And his gaze was locked on her. âWhy is the human at my table?â
âBecause sheâs mine,â Yunho replied coolly, lifting his goblet without flinching. Dead silence followed as Mingi raised his glass. âTo family dinners.â Gunho whispered, âSo cool.â And Y/N? She stared at the head of the table at Yunhoâs father whose eyes glowed like dull embers, a predator barely chained. Her heart pounded. Her throat tightened. But she raised her chin. If she was going to be damned for simply existing, she might as well look good doing it.
The meal was exquisite, even if Y/N could barely taste it through her nerves. Golden roast quail glazed in lavender honey. Wild mushrooms drizzled with blood orange oil. Fresh pear slices dusted in edible silver. Even the wine smelled like starlight. She tried not to show how much she was enjoying it. Alec lounged like a predator before the pounce, the flicker of torchlight dancing in his dark eyes. Heâd barely looked at his plate. His attention was elsewhere, sharp and intentional. He turned to Mingi, voice slick with disdainful amusement. âI hear your brother has married.â
Mingi, fork mid air, didnât even blink. âHe has.â Alec took a sip of wine. âAnd your father says thereâs talk of a betrothal for you next. To that girl from the Spring Court⊠whatâs her name?âA pause, calculated and false curiosity. âPriscilla?â Mingi rolled his eyes and stabbed a piece of pear with unnecessary force. âRumors,â he said, his tone casual but clipped. âMy father has many dreams. Not all of them are mine.â Alecâs eyebrow arched. âI see.â
âIâm more of a lone wolf,â Mingi added with a crooked grin. His voice dropped just slightly, smooth like dark velvet. âI like things that donât bore me.â His gaze flicked toward Y/N. She didnât notice. Too focused on pretending the food was just fine, not incredible. Too focused on not reacting to Tidus swirling his wine while staring at her, or Gunho whispering about whether human blood was redder than fae blood under moonlight. But Yunho noticed. So did Alec.
The tension curled like smoke, invisible but suffocating as Alec leaned back, his eyes lingering on Mingi with something unreadable. âYou should be careful what you chase. Unpredictable things have a habit of⊠biting back.â Mingi smiled, lazy, dangerous. âOnly if you corner them.â And beside Y/N, Yunho smiled too. Because despite Alecâs threats, despite the magic binding Y/N to the palace, despite the chaos looming, Yunho had brought her to dinner. Sat her at the royal table. Dared his father to look her in the eyes and try to deny it.
The palace was quiet in a way that felt unnatural. Not peaceful, just holding its breath. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed in her new room, the fire reduced to a low, steady glow. The dress Wooyoung had helped her out of lay folded carefully on the chair, replaced by a simple night shift of soft black linen. Even that felt too fine for her skin, too unfamiliar. She hugged her knees to her chest. The window was open, letting the cool night air spill in. From here, she could see the Moon City stretched out below, bridges of light, rooftops carved like constellations, shadows moving with purpose. Beautiful. Impossible. Not home.
Her throat tightened. Jongho should be here. But she had ran. Left him in the village. Bandits. Fire. Screams. Her name, torn from his chest echoing in the winds. She shouldnât have ran so far. What if heâd been hurt trying to find her? What if the village had burned? What if he was searching the forest right now, calling her name at the edge of a barrier he couldnât cross? The thought made her chest ache as she pressed her face into her hands, breathing in slowly, forcing the sob back before it could escape. Crying wouldnât bring him here. Crying wouldnât undo ancient magic or fae laws or the way the forest had frozen her bones when she tried to cross the barrier.
âIâm sorry,â she whispered into the empty room. To Jongho. To herself. To the life sheâd lost in a single night. The fire popped softly. Outside, the moon shifted behind a veil of cloud. And somewhere down the hall, whether through magic, bond, or sheer instinct, Yunho paused mid step, a strange pressure settling in his chest that didnât feel like his own.
Y/N was starving. After barely touching dinner the night before, because, well, trauma, politics, Alec, and Tidus breathing near her, it was only the low grumble of her stomach and the scent of roasted nuts wafting down the corridor that got her moving. Wooyoung led the way through the winding halls of the palace, humming to himself and wearing what had to be his sixth outfit in twelve hours. âYou didnât tell me the food here smelled that good,â she said. âOh honey, they donât let just anyone in Jocelynâs kitchen. But youâre with me. So, youâre welcome.â He pushed open a heavy stone door that led to the largest, coziest space sheâd seen in the palace yet, the kitchens.
It was warm, bright with firelight and magically given sunlight from high arched windows, and filled with the scent of fresh herbs, spices, and baking bread. Counters lined with steaming dishes, copper pots hanging from the ceiling, and a long table set off to the side for the kitchen staffâs own meals. Behind it all stood a tall, broad shouldered fae woman with steel gray hair in a loose braid, sleeves rolled to her elbows and a wooden spoon in her hand that could double as a weapon. Jocelyn. She looked up. Paused. Then gave a surprisingly kind nod. âYou must be the human.â
Y/N blinked. âYeah.â
âYou eat eggs?â
âUh. Yes?â
âSit. Iâll feed you.â
Y/N gave Wooyoung a wide eyed look as he gestured her toward the table like heâd just escorted royalty. âShe likes you,â he whispered dramatically. âShe once threw hot tea at a noble.â Y/N had barely taken her seat when the outside kitchen door creaked open. And a massive white wolf trotted in like it owned the place. Y/N jolted back so hard her stool nearly tipped. The creature was huge, long legged, fur thick and pale as snow, nose twitching as it trotted past the fire pit like it had done this every morning of itâs life. Wooyoung gasped, hand over his heart. âYou were told not to do that in the palace anymore!â The wolf paused mid step, then slowly turned itâs head toward Y/N, stormy glacier eyes taking her in.
And then, in a matter of seconds, the fur shimmered, bones shifted, limbs reformed. The wolf became a man. And not just any man. Mingi. All tall, sculpted glory, hair a tousled mess, skin kissed by moonlight, completely and utterly⊠âOH MY GODS,â Y/N yelped, immediately turning away as her face lit up in crimson. âYouâre naked!â And big. Everywhere!
âGood morning to you too,â Mingi said, grinning. âSeriously?â Wooyoung groaned, shielding his eyes with one hand and dramatically looking through his fingers like he werenât enjoying the view. âJust dangling everywhere, why donât you.â Jocelyn didnât even look up from her pan. âOut of my kitchens with your nudity, pup.â
âYou sure?â Mingi said, unbothered as ever, already pulling a nearby cloth napkin off the counter and casually wrapping it around his hips. âIâm hungry.â
âYouâre lucky I like your dumb wolf face,â Jocelyn muttered as Y/N had both hands clapped over her eyes. âDo all of you do this? Is this a thing?â She was trying very hard not to look again. âOh, darling,â Wooyoung said through tears of laughter, âyou have so much to learn.â
The Night Court library was massive, quiet, towering, filled with the scent of old magic and older parchment. Silver threaded curtains swayed gently in the high windows, and light filtered in through stained glass that painted the marble floor in shifting constellations. It was also Yunhoâs favorite place in the entire palace. At least, when it wasnât being used as a jungle gym by his younger brother. âGunho,â Yunho called out from between two bookshelves, arms full of tomes. âThat is not how you treat a first edition history of the Sundering.â Gunho peered down from his perch halfway up a rolling ladder, upside down and grinning. âItâs not my fault the Night Courtâs library doesnât have a section for humans. Iâm researching.â
âYouâre going to research yourself right into a concussion,â Yunho muttered, setting the books on a nearby table as Gunho jumped down effortlessly, landing with more grace than necessary. âYou brought a human into the palace. What did you think I was going to do, ignore that?â Yunho arched a brow. âYes. Or read quietly.â Gunho gave him a dazzling smile. âDisappointing you is kind of my job.â Yunho smirked despite himself. He was mid sentence flipping through an old map of fae barrier lines when the library doors creaked open.
Both brothers looked up as Mingi walked in. Barefoot. Hair a little damp. Wrapped only in a giant silver threaded blanket that looked like it had been stolen off a noblewomanâs chaise lounge. Yunho blinked. âMingi.â Mingi threw up a hand like he was arriving fashionably late to a party. âGood morning, gentlefae.â Gunho wheezed. âAre you wearing a curtain?â Mingi looked down at the blanket. âPossibly.â Yunho sighed. âWhy.â
âWell,â Mingi said, striding forward casually and plopping into the chair across from him, the blanket somehow managing to stay just barely appropriate, âsomeone, cough, Wooyoung, freaked out when I shifted back in the kitchen though I know he loves the view. Jocelyn chased me out. I forgot my clothes. Now here we are.â Gunho leaned forward, eyes wide. âSo you were naked?â
âI am frequently naked,â Mingi replied. âItâs one of my best traits.â Yunho ran a hand down his face. âPlease stop talking.â Gunho looked delighted. âYouâre lucky Y/N wasnât there.â Mingi smirked, the kind that just screamed chaos. âOh, she turned bright red,â He said proudly. âDidnât even yell. Just made this squeaky noise and stared at the ceiling like it was gonna save her.â Yunho tried not to react. But the twitch of his lips betrayed him. Gunho pounced. âOh noâŠ.. she saw⊠THAT?â
âI think it was a lot for her to take in.â Mingi smirked over the rim of a teacup he definitely hadnât had before as Yunho looked between the two of them, his chaotic brother and his far too comfortable best friend wrapped in upholstery, and muttered under his breath, âI shouldâve let the monster eat us both.â
The palace halls were quieter during the day, though never truly silent. The magic here was alive, embedded into the stone, humming low like distant thunder beneath their feet. Curtains stirred when there was no wind. Statues seemed to track movement with eyes that didnât glow, but remembered. Y/N walked a little slower than usual, her bare fingers trailing along the cool marble banister as she and Wooyoung strolled through the upper gallery overlooking one of the inner courtyards. âI thought itâd be more crowded,â she murmured. Wooyoung, arms folded and an apple in hand heâd definitely stolen from Jocelynâs kitchens, popped a bite into his mouth and shrugged. âThe nobles come out at night. Like cockroaches, but with better cheekbones.â Y/N cracked a small smile. âYouâre not like them.â
âObviously.â He twirled the apple like a coin. âIâm employed.â They turned a corner into a long hallway filled with arched windows, sunlight spilling across dark stone in soft stripes. She paused for a moment, watching the wind stir the trees in the distance beyond the barrier. âHas Yunhoâs father always hated humans?â Wooyoung didnât answer right away. He bit into his apple again. Chewed. Swallowed. âYeah,â he said eventually, not looking at her as Y/N turned slightly toward him. âWhy?â
âI donât know the whole story,â he said. âBut there was a treaty. Long before you were born. Before I was born, even.â
âYouâre how old?â
âDonât worry about it,â he waved her off, then went back to pacing slowly. âAnyway, the Night Court and the human kingdoms had this fragile, donât kill each other thing going. Trade. Borders. Magic exchanges. It held for a while. Until it didnât.â Y/Nâs voice was soft. âAnd?â
âSomething happened. Rumors say the humans broke the treaty first. Others say Alecâs side did. The only thing everyone agrees on is it ended badly.â He stopped, gaze flicking sideways at her. âAnd that Alec lost someone.â Her throat tightened. âSomeone he cared about?â
âI guess. Maybe a lover. Maybe a brother. Maybe even his first heir, this happened way before Yunho was born.â Wooyoung shrugged. âFae live a long time. They carry grudges even longer.â
âAnd Yunho?â
Wooyoungâs smirk dimmed just a touch. âYunho isnât his father.â She nodded slowly as they continued down the hall in silence for a moment longer. Then Wooyoung added, âBut donât mistake quiet for soft. Heâs got shadows, that one. Doesnât always show them. Doesnât want to.â Y/N swallowed hard as Wooyoung offered her the last bite of the apple. She blinked. âThat was in your mouth.â He winked. âAnd yet Iâm still irresistible.â
Theyâd just turned into a balcony hallway that overlooked one of the open training courtyards when Y/N paused, something catching her eye below. âIs thatâŠ.â she started. Wooyoung followed her gaze. âOh, well, look who decided to be clothed.â Down below, lit by the glow of soft magically given sunlight and climbing ivy, Yunho stood near the edge of the courtyard, dressed in black on black with his sleeves pushed up and a scroll in hand. Mingi lounged on a stone bench beside him, more relaxed, his silver blue hair catching the light, one foot up, tossing a dagger from hand to hand like he was born with it.
They looked like opposites. But they moved like magnets. They didnât need to speak to communicate. A look. A nudge. A crooked smile. Y/N watched them for a beat too long before she glanced sideways at Wooyoung. âHow long have they known each other?â Wooyoung leaned on the railing, watching with her, his expression unreadable. âForever,â he said. âSince they were kids. They didnât really have a choice.â Y/N frowned. âWhat do you mean?â
âYunhoâs the heir to the Night Court. Mingiâs the second son of the Winter Court. Their parents did a lot of political⊠dancing.â He waved a hand in a lazy circle. âSo they were raised near each other during the first few decades. Education, combat, etiquette, magic. All the boring stuff.â She looked back down. Mingi was now poking at Yunhoâs scroll with his dagger, clearly annoying him. Yunho smacked his hand without even looking up. Wooyoung smirked. âMingiâs older brotherâs the actual heir, so he got a little more freedom. Spent more and more time here. Yunho didnât mind. He doesnât trust a lot of people.â
âAnd he trusts Mingi?â
âMore than he trusts himself,â Wooyoung said simply. âThereâs loyalty, and then thereâs them.â Y/N felt something soft pull in her chest. âTheyâre⊠close,â she murmured. Wooyoung arched a brow, hearing the undertone in her voice. âDonât worry,â he said lightly, âIâve only seen them kiss once, like a century ago.â
She flushed. âThatâs notâŠâ
He grinned. âItâs not not, though.â
Down below, Mingi looked up suddenly, his gaze snapping right to their balcony. Yunho followed his eyes, and for a moment, Y/N found herself caught between them both. Yunhoâs brow arched. Mingi smirked and gave a lazy little wave and Wooyoung grinned as Y/N stepped back from the railing. âWeâre leaving.â
âAww, they were just about to argue over who noticed you first.â
She was already walking away. And behind her, Wooyoung just laughed.
The library was quieter at this hour. The fake magical sun was gone and the permanent twilight poured in through the tall arched windows like wine. The magic in the room hummed low, as if the books themselves were dreaming. Y/N wandered slowly between shelves, fingertips grazing spines wrapped in soft leather and woven spellcloth. Most of the titles werenât in a language she could read, swirling, beautiful runes that reminded her of stars dancing underwater. But she was determined. Somewhere in this sea of stories had to be a piece of her own world. A thread she could hold onto. She rounded a corner with a small stack already in her arms, mostly maps and histories, a few books of fae illustrations, when she found a low lit corner with a reading bench and a lantern already lit.
Carefully, she set the books down and flipped one open. Nothing. Another. Still nothing. She bit the inside of her cheek. It wasnât like she had much else to do. Wooyoung was in her room, fluffing pillows and preparing her bath with far too much ceremony for a woman who still felt like a hostage in a silk dress. She turned another page. And another. âLooking for something?â The voice came from behind her. Low. Familiar. She startled, nearly dropping the book. âGods⊠Yunho.â He stood just inside the shadows, barely more than a silhouette at first, until the lanternlight caught the edge of his coat. His hair was slightly tousled, the collar of his shirt undone just enough to make her thoughts trip as he stepped closer. âYouâre not supposed to be here alone,â he said softly.
âIâm not doing anything dangerous,â she replied, glancing back at the shelves. âUnless reading counts.â His eyes flicked to the stack beside her. âThose are in high fae script.â
âI figured that out around book three.â She huffed and he gave a quiet hum, then moved past her to scan the nearest shelves. He pulled out a thin book bound in navy and silver, then another with a symbol she actually recognized, a star split by a tree. âThese are in your language,â he said, handing them to her. âPoetry. Some translated folk tales.â She took them carefully. âWhy are there even books here in my language?â Yunho tilted his head, watching her. âBecause there used to be more humans here. Once.â Her grip on the books tightened. âYou always show up when Iâm alone,â she said quietly.
âI donât plan it,â he replied. âYouâre just⊠harder to ignore than you think.â That stilled her. Their eyes met across the bench. Yunho looked at her like she was part of a storm he hadnât meant to walk into, and wasnât quite ready to leave. âWooyoung told me to tell you your bath is ready.â She clutched the books closer. âIâll go in a minute.â He nodded. But he didnât leave. Not yet. He just lingered, standing among the ancient stories, staring at the one that had wandered into his life and refused to play by the rules. âDo you have family?â he asked. The question was gentle. Almost careful. Like he was stepping onto thin ice and knew it.
Y/Nâs fingers tightened around the books heâd handed her. She didnât look at him right away, her gaze stayed fixed on the lantern, the soft glow trembling like it might give her away. âI did,â she said finally. Yunho stayed still as she swallowed. âI donât remember much. I was little. Too little to understand why everything was on fire or why people were screaming.â Her voice wavered, just barely. âI remember hands pulling me. Someone shouting my name. And then⊠nothing. Just pieces.â She shook her head slowly. âI donât even know who killed them. Or why. Just that one day I had a family and the next day I didnât and the only reminder a ring my mother gave me.â Yunhoâs chest tightened but he didnât interrupt. âJonghoâs family found me,â she went on. âThey lived near the village. Took me in like it was the most natural thing in the world.â A small, sad smile curved her lips. âHe was younger than me by a year, but he decided immediately that I was his responsibility.â Yunho almost smiled at that.
âHeâs not really my brother,â she said softly. âBut heâs the closest thing I have. Heâs always been there. Always. Even when I didnât sleep. Even when I stopped talking for a while.â Her voice dropped. âAnd now Iâm here.â She finally looked at Yunho then, eyes bright but dry. âI keep thinking⊠what if he got hurt looking for me? What if he crossed the forest line trying to follow me? That maybeâŠ. something happened to him when the bandits raided the villageâŠâ The books slipped from her grip and landed softly on the bench. âI hope heâs okay,â she whispered. âThatâs all I want right now.â Yunho felt the bond stir, not sharp, not commanding, but heavy. Emotional. A pull low in his chest that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with her. âI wonât let anything happen to him,â he said quietly and Y/N frowned. âYou donât even know him.â
âI donât need to,â Yunho replied. âHeâs yours.â That made her breath catch as he hesitated, then added, âIâll send word beyond the border. Carefully. No harm will come to him because of you. I promise.â She stared at him like she didnât quite believe kindness could exist here. Then, slowly, her shoulders sagged. Relief. Exhaustion. Grief. âThank you,â she said. âFor that. And for⊠everything else.â Yunho nodded once, throat tight. âYou should take your bath and rest.â And he left her alone with books and her own thoughts.
The long table gleamed under candlelight, a stretch of polished obsidian set with dark crystal goblets and midnight blue plates. The dining hall of the Night Court was just as grand and cold as always, but tonight, there was something else in the air, anticipation. Y/N sat beside Wooyoung and across from Mingi, who hadnât stopped grinning since he sat down. Yunho was quiet beside her, his posture relaxed but unreadable. At the head of the table, Alec finally lifted his wineglass, but it wasnât a toast. âThis year,â he said, voice smooth and heavy like oil, âwe will honor the tradition of sending an envoy to the Autumn Court for the solstice festival.â Everyone looked up as Alecâs gaze flicked to Yunho. âYouâll go. As the heir.â Yunho sipped his wine. âOf course.â
âYouâll take your brother,â Alec continued, nodding toward Gunho, who lit up immediately. âReally?â Gunho gasped, eyes sparkling. âThe Autumn Festival? Iâve always wanted to see it!â Alec nodded. âYouâll represent the court as our future.â Then Alecâs gaze shifted to Y/N. âAnd take your⊠pet,â he added, the word a deliberate insult dressed as formality. Y/N stiffened. Yunhoâs jaw twitched. Mingi, however, leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. âHongjoong always knows how to throw a good party,â Mingi mused, eyes glinting. âWouldnât miss it for the world.â
âAnd Seonghwa,â Tidus added, clearly amused. âThe Autumn Courtâs second in command⊠still hasnât forgiven you for what happened at the last solstice.â
âOh?â Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, sipping from his glass. âWas that the thing with the cursed mask? Or the exploding wine fountain?â
âYes,â Mingi grinned fondly as Y/N blinked. âWhat kind of festival is this?â Wooyoung grinned. âChaotic,â He whispered. âBut beautiful.â Yunho finally spoke, low and deliberate. âThe Autumn Court thrives on spectacle. Theyâll use the festival as a chance to show power, forge alliances⊠and test loyalty.â Alec smiled thinly. âWhich is exactly why you must go. And take the girl. The court will be watching.â Y/N looked up at Yunho then, and for the briefest moment, something passed between them. Not just tension. Something deeper. Like fate cracking its knuckles.
Y/N stood in the middle of her room, eyes wide as Wooyoung spread a selection of dresses across the bed like a painter laying out his palette. Rich velvets in amber and crimson, gold threaded silks, even a few pieces she was pretty sure werenât exactly⊠made for warmth. Autumn Court fashion, apparently, did not believe in modesty. âIâm gonna freeze,â she muttered, picking up a sleeveless gown that looked like it had been dipped in molten bronze. âYouâll survive,â Wooyoung said brightly, folding a cape made of deep plum velvet. âBesides, once the bonfires start, itâs not the cold youâll be worried about, itâs keeping the fae from trying to seduce you.â Y/N blinked. âThatâs not comforting.â Wooyoung winked. âYouâll be with Yunho. No oneâs dumb enough to touch whatâs his.â He cocked his head and snorted. âWellâŠ. except Mingi.â
Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hand along the fabric of a copper colored dress. âWhatâs the Autumn Court like?â Wooyoung paused, hands slowing. âHm⊠intense,â he said finally. âThink gold leaves and red wine. Firelight everywhere. Laughter that sounds like a challenge.â Y/N looked up. âHongjoong is the youngest ruler of the courts,â Wooyoung said, quieter now. âHe inherited it after his older brother died, over twenty years ago, in a war that no one talks about anymore. Not around here, anyway.â Her brows knit. âHe mustâve been young.â
âBarely over a couple centuries,â Wooyoung nodded. âPractically a baby for a fae. Heâs⊠different. Clever. Sharp. Doesnât trust easily, but when he does, itâs for life.â
âSounds like Yunho,â Y/N murmured and Wooyoung smiled to himself. âYeah. They used to be close. Yunho stayed at the Autumn Court when we were younger, before Alec got colder than the walls.â Y/N glanced up. âWe?â He waved it off. âI tagged along. Wasnât supposed to, but Yunho snuck me in.â
âOf course he did,â she laughed.
âOh, and Hongjoongâs partner, Seonghwa,â Wooyoung added, his voice turning almost dreamy. âHeâs quiet, stunning, terrifying with a sword. A poet and a warrior. Theyâve been together forever.â Y/N raised an eyebrow. âIs this going to be a place full of beautiful people with terrifying reputations?â
âYouâre catching on,â Wooyoung grinned as he smoothed a folded tunic into her bag, then sighed and flopped dramatically next to her on the bed. âI hope Sanâs there.â Y/N tilted her head. âWhoâs San?â Wooyoungâs entire expression softened in a way she hadnât seen before. âHeâs the heir of the Summer Court,â he said quietly. âHotter than sin. Stronger than most. Heâs like⊠sunshine and beauty. Has this laugh that makes you feel like youâre the only one he wants to hear it.â Y/N blinked. âSounds like someone has a crush.â
âIâm in love,â Wooyoung said flatly. âAnd heâs been ignoring me for six months.â Y/N stared as Wooyoung groaned and rolled onto his back. âItâs not that dramatic. I just havenât seen him since the last festival. And maybe I might have fucked him. And maybe he might have said it was a mistake. And maybe I havenât stopped thinking about him since.â Y/N bit her lip, trying not to smile. âSo itâs not that dramatic.â Wooyoung let out a sigh. âExactly,â he nodded. âCompletely normal amount of emotional damage.â They both laughed. The bag was almost packed now, gowns and cloaks neatly folded, boots and gloves tucked inside.
Y/N reached for one of the simpler dresses, something soft in burnt sienna, and ran her hand over it. âSo,â she said quietly. âThe Autumn Court, huh?â Wooyoung sat up beside her, grin returning. âGet ready, darling,â he said, brushing her hair behind her ear. âYouâre about to step into firelight and temptation. Just donât let anyone steal your heart, unless youâre ready to lose it.â
The magical sun had barely disappeared when they departed the Night Court. Carriages painted obsidian rolled out through the towering gates, their wheels crunching over frost laced stone. Horses with black coats and glowing silver eyes pulled them forward as the shadows of the palace disappeared behind them, swallowed by thick forest and the coming light. Y/N had expected to ride inside with Wooyoung and Gunho, but found herself walking at first, arms tucked tight against her chest, breath curling in the cool morning air as the towering trees of the night realm began to thin and turn gold at the edges. She didnât hear him until he was already beside her. âToo cold to be dramatic,â Mingi said, hands tucked behind his head, strolling with lazy ease like they were just heading down to a village tavern. âYou could be in the warm carriage, you know.â Y/N glanced up, startled. âI didnât feel like sitting.â Mingi tilted his head. âToo much royal tension in there?â
âToo much Gunho trying to convince Wooyoung to teach him how to flirt,â she muttered making him snort. âGods help us all.â They walked in silence for a minute, the path ahead dipping into a stretch of land where the night courtâs shadows slowly faded, gold and amber leaves scattered like confetti along the road, sunlight breaking through the high branches. The air was different here. Brighter. Warmer. âYouâve traveled before?â Mingi asked suddenly, eyes forward. Y/N shrugged. âNot like this.â
âYeah, not many humans travel with a crown prince and his entourage,â he teased. She gave him a look that made him grin. âDonât get all serious, Iâm not judging. Youâre doing better than most fae I know would.â
âDo they usually run from wolves?â
âOnly if the wolves are naked.â
Her face went scarlet and Mingi let out a low, satisfied chuckle. âSorry, sorry. I forgot youâve probably never anything as well made as me before.â Y/N rolled her eyes biting her lip to smile. âI thought Jocelyn was going to beat you with a skillet,â she muttered. âOh, she has before,â he said brightly as they lapsed into another stretch of silence, but this one felt⊠easier. Mingi walked with his hands back behind his neck, whistling something under his breath, a tune she didnât know but sounded vaguely like a lullaby. Y/N kept her eyes on the trees, golden leaves spiraling around her feet.
âHow long have you known Yunho?â she asked after a moment. She knew what Wooyoung had told her but she wanted to hear it from one of them themselves. Mingi didnât answer right away. âSince I was a kid,â he finally said. âI was born in the Winter Court, but I didnât exactly⊠fit.â She glanced at him as he shrugged. âMy fatherâs the ruler there. Wanted a soldier. I wanted a library. Our families have been allied for centuries soâŠ. I spent a lot of time in and out of the Moon City. When weâre thirteen, I told his father to kiss my ass after taking the fall for Yunho when we snuck out one night, it was Yunhoâs idea butâŠ. youâve met Alec.â A small smile tugged at Y/Nâs lips. âYouâve been best friends ever since?â
âMore or less. Iâve tried to kill him a couple times in sparring, but he usually wins.â Mingi grinned as she laughed softly. âYouâre good for him, you know,â Mingi added suddenly and Y/N blinked. âWhat?â
âHe doesnât talk to many people. Not really. Not like he talks to you.â Mingi slowed his steps, hands falling to his sides. âWhatever youâre doingâŠ. keep doing it.â She opened her mouth, but he was already walking ahead again, spinning a maple leaf through his fingers as he went. Behind her, the sound of hooves drew closer, a signal that the carriages were catching up, and ahead, the forest opened up to an early rest stop, real sunlight spilling across a shallow riverbed where Gunho was already climbing out of the carriage barefoot. Y/N stood there a moment longer, heart strangely full. She didnât know if it was the woods or the way Mingi looked at her when he spoke, but something in the air was changing.
They stopped by a lake, the sun hovered lazily overhead, golden and warm, filtering through the canopy as horses were unhitched and carriages rolled to a stop beside the shimmering shoreline. The water sparkled with flecks of amber and silver, and birds skimmed just above its glassy surface, wings brushing the air like whispers. Gunho raced down to the edge like a boy half his age. Y/N followed more slowly, stretching her legs with a soft groan, and Wooyoung immediately flopped beside her in the grass with a dramatic sigh of his own. âI swear, if I have to sit in that carriage another hour, Iâm going to hex myself into a raccoon and run to the Autumn Court.â
âYouâd make a very cute squirrel,â Y/N said, tossing a pebble into the water.
âPlease. Iâd be feral and sexy, like all raccoons are.â
Gunho barked a laugh and nearly fell in. A few paces up the hill, under the shade of an old willow tree, Yunho stood quietly, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes fixed on them. Specifically, on her. âGetting a little obvious, arenât we?â came a voice at his side. Mingi strolled up with easy steps, a waterskin slung over one shoulder, and leaned against the tree beside him like he hadnât just dropped a live grenade. Yunho didnât look at him. âWhat?â
âYou watch her a lot,â Mingi said, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, âespecially when you think no oneâs looking.â Yunhoâs eyes narrowed as Mingi tilted his head, looking down toward the lake, toward the girl laughing with his little brother and Wooyoung, her hair catching the light. Yunho said nothing as Mingi shrugged. âItâs fine. I get it.â
âYou do, huh?â Yunhoâs tone was unreadable when Mingi finally turned his head. âYouâre not the only one who watches, Yunho.â There was a beat of silence between them before Yunho met his best friendâs eyes. Dark brown almost black meeting stormy dark glacier. âSo do you.â Mingiâs lips parted as Yunhoâs voice was calm, cool, but cut like a blade. âYou think I donât notice?â he said. âThe way you look at her when sheâs not paying attention. How you always find your way to her side. You were a wolf in the kitchens, Mingi.â Mingi winced, chuckling. âAlright, maybe that was a little bold.â
âYou were naked.â
âShe noticed.â
They stood there a moment, silent, both watching her as she leaned back on her elbows beside the lake, eyes half closed, face tilted toward the sun. âIt doesnât bother me,â Yunho said finally, voice quieter now. âIf thatâs what youâre trying to test.â Mingiâs brow arched. âYou sure about that?â Yunhoâs jaw flexed as Mingi smirked. âWeâve shared things before.â
âSheâs not a thing.â
âI know.â Mingi dropped the grin, gaze softening. âThatâs why Iâm not making a move. Not yet.â Yunho turned to him now, eyes sharp. âAnd if you did?â Mingi held his stare. âThen Iâd hope youâd either stop meâŠ. or join me.â The air between them grew still. âCome on,â Mingi said finally, pushing off the tree. âLetâs go make sure Gunho doesnât drown.â He started down the hill, whistling again, lazy and off key but Yunho stayed where he was for a moment longer, eyes flicking back to her, just as she looked up, as if sensing his gaze. Their eyes met. And something unspoken passed between them. Yunho exhaled, slow and deep, before turning and following Mingi down the slope, boots crunching in the grass.
The road to Emberhall curved through thick woodland, where sunlight broke through the trees in dappled bursts and the air carried the scent of moss and magic. Theyâd been riding for an hour since the lake, and the air had grown cooler with elevation, the landscape subtly shifting from evergreen to the deep reds and golds of autumn more. Y/N rode in the second carriage now, Wooyoung asleep beside her, mouth open, drooling on the shoulder of his cloak. Gunho had traded spots to ride up front with one of the guards, too excited to sit still. She was nearly dozing herself when the door swung open at a stop. âTrade you a snoring pixie for some better company,â Mingi grinned, already climbing in without waiting for her answer. She blinked. âDo you just⊠wander into any carriage you want?â
âOnly yours,â he winked, pulling the door closed and flopping into the seat across from her, long legs spreading obnoxiously as Y/N folded her arms. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âAnd youâre not even denying youâre flattered.â
She rolled her eyes, biting down a smile once again. âFine. Since youâre here, entertain me.â Mingi stretched lazily. âIâm very good at that.â She rolled her eyes. âI meant with information, not your thighs.â He looked offended. âHow dare you assume I wasnât going to use both.â Y/N laughed under her breath, then leaned forward, voice more curious now. âTell me about your court. The Winter Court. Whatâs it like?â Mingi looked out the window for a moment, thoughtful. âItâs cold,â he said, unsurprisingly. âBut not the bitter kind. Itâs⊠still. Beautiful. Snow that doesnât melt, rivers that freeze into crystal. The sky always looks like itâs on the edge of twilight. Quiet enough to hear your heartbeat.â Y/N blinked, surprised by the poetic edge to his words. âSounds peaceful.â
âIt can be.â He paused. âIt can also be cruel.â She didnât push, but he mustâve seen the question in her eyes. âMy family isnât like me,â he added, voice lower. âNot really. Theyâre pureblood fae, born of ice and legacy. Iâm the youngest. My older brother, hell, most of the court besides my mother, think Iâm too soft for politics. Too human.â
âBecause you smile too much?â she teased gently. âBecause I care too much,â he said with a half shrug and her gaze softened. âAnd the wolf?â Mingi blinked. âWhat about it?â
âCan⊠everyone in your family do that? Shift?â She asked and he chuckled. âGods, no. My father can, barely. My brother? Not a chance.â
âWhy you then?â
He grinned slowly. âRebellion, probably.â She narrowed her eyes. âThat doesnât make sense.â He shrugged. âIt doesnât have to. The shift comes to those who arenât born with it, if you earn it. The Winter Court worships control, logic, bloodlines. I⊠worship chaos. The wolf liked that.â Y/N stared at him, stunned.
âThatâs⊠kind of empyreal.â
âThank you,â Mingi beamed. âFinally someone says it.â They sat in easy silence for a moment, the road rumbling beneath them, the carriage creaking in rhythm. Then Mingi leaned forward just slightly, arms resting on his knees, eyes locking on hers. âYou want to try riding my horse next leg of the trip?â he asked. âYour horse?â
âNo, Wooyoung.â
She barked a laugh, and Mingiâs grin spread. âKidding. Horse. Yes. Iâll ride with you. Teach you how to steer. Itâs easy, and youâll like it more than being cooped up in here.â Y/N hesitated. âUnless youâre scared,â he added innocently and she narrowed her eyes again. âYouâre very annoying.â
âAnd yet, youâre still looking at me like you want to know everything. Iâll take that as a yes.â The caravan rolled to a gentle halt beneath the edge of a sun dappled clearing. The forest around them had begun to thin, and the mountain air held a brisk edge. It was just after midday, the warmest it would get. Someone up front called for a short break, and the guards dismounted first to stretch and check the perimeter. Y/N stepped out of the carriage with a deep breath, the scent of pine and fresh earth grounding her. âCome on,â Mingi said from where he was already walking towards his horse, untying the reins. âYouâre riding this leg.â She blinked, laughing softly. âYou were serious?â
âDead serious,â he grinned, swinging himself into the saddle with the ease of someone born to do it. âYouâre not spending this entire journey boxed up with Wooyoung and his drool.â
âHey!â Wooyoung whined from inside the carriage.
âI thought we agreed not to out your snoring problem,â Mingi called back before turning to Y/N again, now holding a hand down to her. âCome on. Iâll teach you.â She hesitated, eyeing the horse like it might bite her. âItâs just a horse, not a manticore,â Mingi teased. âI read about those. Theyâre terrifying.â
âAnd this oneâs not. Her names Nico. Sheâs sweet. She likes apples and compliments. Just like me.â He grinned and Y/N smirked. âThatâs⊠disturbingly accurate.â Mingi wiggled his fingers. âUp.â She took his hand and let him lift her with zero effort, the world tilting for a moment before she found herself seated in front of him, his arms bracketing her as he reached for the reins. Behind them, a voice cut in. âWhere are you going?â Yunho stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable but sharp, dark eyes fixed on Mingi like theyâd locked blades in a duel before. Mingi didnât miss a beat. âTeaching her how to ride.â
âSince when do you offer to teach anything?â Yunho asked, stepping closer. âSince now.â Mingiâs grin was wide, easy, but it didnât reach his eyes. âYou jealous?â Yunho ignored that, gaze sliding to Y/N, who looked slightly too pleased with herself. âAre you sure you trust him with the reins?â He teased. âI trust him to make it interesting,â she said lightly, but her heart was thudding loud enough she swore they could both hear it as Mingi leaned forward just enough that his chest brushed her back, his lips near her ear. âHold tight,â he murmured, loud enough that Yunho could hear too. Then the horse moved, slow at first, then breaking into a smooth canter as they veered off the path and into the trail ahead, just far enough to be out of earshot but still in sight.
Yunho watched them go, his jaw tight as Gunho wandered up beside him, chewing on dried fruit. âAre they flirting?â Yunho didnât look at him. âNo.â Gunho squinted. âThey look like theyâre flirting.â
The trees opened up into a quiet clearing where a narrow stream flowed lazily over smooth stones, its edges dappled with late afternoon light. Birds fluttered overhead, their songs distant as if giving the space some measure of privacy. Mingi brought the horse to a gentle stop, his hand resting lightly over Y/Nâs as he leaned forward, murmuring by her ear, âLetâs stretch your legs before they fall off.â She laughed, stiff as she climbed down, her thighs aching in places she didnât even know could ache. âYou couldâve warned me horse riding hurts in all the worst ways.â
âI thought it would be more fun if you found out on your own,â he said, sliding down with that effortless grace again. His boots hit the ground beside her, and she felt the heat of him even without touching. She moved closer to the stream, crouching to splash cold water on her face and the back of her neck. The relief was instant. Behind her, Mingi didnât move away, just crouched down beside her, the silence between them stretching as comfortably as the space didnât. Then he said it, voice low and almost too quiet for the breeze. âYou know, Iâve never met a human before.â Y/N blinked, glancing sideways at him. âReally?â
He nodded, eyes fixed on the water. âNot up close. Not like this.â She wasnât sure what to say to that, so she offered the obvious. âWhat do you think so far?â
âThat you ask too many questions,â he teased, his grin lazy and crooked. She nudged his shoulder. âYou couldâve said that days ago.â
âI like the way you ask them.â And just like that, something shifted. He turned, eyes dragging over her face, not hungrily, not flirtatiously. Like he was genuinely studying her, like something about her was trying to answer a question he hadnât even asked yet. âIt makes me wonder,â he said, quieter now as Y/N tilted her head. âWonder what?â
âIf all humans have thisâŠâ His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before lifting back to her eyes. âAura. Like you.â She blinked, caught off guard. âAura?â He shrugged, brows furrowed. âSomething hiding beneath the surface. Something⊠cloaked. Like a thread of energy wrapped tight. Waiting.â Her lips parted, not from understanding but from the chill that crawled down her spine. âYou think Iâm hiding something?â Mingiâs expression softened just a little. âNo. I think you donât know youâre hiding something.â
The words sat heavy in the air, their echoes swallowed by the bubbling stream. She looked away first, unsure why it suddenly felt like he could see straight through her. âMaybe Iâm just weird.â
âI like weird.â
She laughed softly, glancing back at him, and froze. He was closer than before, his arm brushing hers, his breath mingling with hers, his grin slightly softer now. Not cocky. Curious. âI also like mystery,â he added.
âOf course you do,â she said, trying to play it off, but her pulse betrayed her. From a little distance away, Yunho watched. Heâd followed on foot after Mingi veered off with her, telling Gunho to stay with the others. He wasnât spying, not exactly. Just watching. Protecting, maybe. Or trying to understand why, ever since sheâd stepped into their world, things had started to shift beneath his skin.
By the time the sky turned dusky purple, the group had settled into a crescent shaped clearing surrounded by tall trees and thick underbrush. Horses were being tied off, bedrolls unfurled, and firewood gathered without needing orders, everyone seemed to know their role in the rhythm of travel. Wooyoung, unsurprisingly, had made friends with a traveling bard whoâd joined them briefly for a warm meal and a round of stories. Gunho sat cross legged near the fire, wide eyed and beaming as the bard spun a tale about the Autumn Courtâs labyrinth garden and a fae who got lost in it for a hundred years. The smell of charred meat and roasted roots drifted through the air, and somewhere beyond the trees, an owl called.
Y/N sat beside the fire, a thin blanket around her shoulders and her legs pulled up beneath her. Her body still ached in the best ways from the dayâs ride, but her mind hadnât stopped spinning since the moment by the stream. From across the camp, Mingi emerged from the shadows of the trees. Heâd disappeared earlier, presumably to patrol the perimeter, and now reappeared with that same wild air to him, his hair tousled, the top few buttons of his tunic open. He didnât say anything. Just caught her eye, held it a little too long, and then dropped down beside Yunho who had been quiet most of the evening, his expression unreadable as he cleaned his blade with a cloth. But now he glanced at Mingi, murmuring something under his breath. Mingi chuckled in response, low and amused.
Y/N couldnât hear what they were saying. But the way Yunhoâs jaw ticked, the way Mingiâs grin lingered, it made her wonder if they were talking about her as Wooyoung plopped down beside her with a satisfied sigh, pulling a piece of bread from his pocket and tearing it in half. âThe bard says tomorrow we should hit the border of Autumn Court lands.â
âIs it really that different?â Y/N asked, her voice soft as she took the bread. âOh, youâll see.â Wooyoung smirked. âItâs warmer. Wilder. The trees are gold year round. And Hongjoong, heâs all poetry and fury. Seonghwa balances him out, thank the gods.â Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. âYou like it there.â
âI like San there,â he murmured without hesitation and she smiled into the firelight. âYou should sleep soon,â Wooyoung added after a beat. âItâs a long ride tomorrow.â She nodded but didnât move. Her eyes flicked toward Mingi again, who was now lying on his back in the grass, one hand behind his head, the other lazily tossing a pebble into the air and catching it. Moonlight glinted off the edge of his profile. Yunho was still by the fire, blade long forgotten, fingers now playing with a strip of worn leather, something that looked too sentimental to be casual. A wind passed through the camp. A stillness followed. And for a flicker of a moment, Y/N swore Yunho looked at her the same way Mingi had earlier. Like maybe she was the mystery neither of them had meant to stumble across⊠but now couldnât turn away from.
The fire had long burned to embers, casting a low, orange glow across the camp. Most of the group slept in quiet sprawls, bundled in cloaks and furs, the hush of the surrounding forest only broken by the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of wind through leaves. Y/N blinked awake slowly, her body sluggish with sleep but her bladder persistent. She wriggled carefully from beneath her blanket, careful not to wake Wooyoung snoring softly beside her, and tiptoed toward the trees just past the horses. Her boots crunched softly against the grass and twigs, but no one stirred. No one, except Tidus.
He stood on the edge of the shadows like he belonged to them, his arms crossed, cloak draped around his tall frame, and hair faintly catching the moonlight. Watching. She didnât say anything. Didnât have to. He was always watching. Y/N continued walking anyway, disappearing into the trees just far enough for privacy. She crouched beside a large root, muttering under her breath about fae wine and borrowed waterskins. The second she stood and adjusted her cloak when she was done, she stilled.
He was there. Right behind her. Tidus stepped forward with quiet steps, his boots silent against the dirt and moss. âYou really should be more careful, human.â Y/N swallowed, every muscle tensing. âI find it amusing,â he continued, voice low, almost playful in the most unsettling way. âHow you, a thing born of dirt and weakness, have the heir of the Night Court now bound to you.â Her eyes narrowed. âI didnât ask him to save me.â
âNo,â Tidus said, tilting his head. âBut you let him, didnât you?â She said nothing as he stepped closer, a sliver of moonlight slipping between the branches and casting across his sharp features, eyes glittering with something too serpentine to be curiosity. âAnd now the damned winter wolf is sniffing up your skirts,â he sneered, gaze dropping with deliberate insult. âIs that what you do, girl? Cling to power because youâve never had your own?â
âI donât cling to anyone,â she shot back, voice sharp despite the chill that snaked up her spine. âYou donât know me.â He scoffed like he tasted something bitter. âI know enough,â he said, tone smoothing into something more poisonous. âI know somethingâs not right with you.â Y/Nâs breath caught, but she didnât look away as Tidus smiled, slow and cutting. âYouâd do well to remember whose land you walk now. And who you owe your safety to.â She stiffened. âI donât owe you a godsdamned thing.â
âNo,â he agreed softly. âBut you will.â Then, without another word, he stepped back into the shadows, vanishing between the trees with a rustle of leaves.
The morning sun broke through the trees in shards of golden light, bathing the forest trail in a soft amber glow. Dew clung to the leaves, and the horsesâ hooves squelched against the damp earth as the group resumed their journey. No one seemed to notice how quiet Y/N was, how she flinched slightly when Tidus rode too close or how her gaze kept sweeping the shadows like they might whisper again. Wooyoung cracked a joke up ahead, Gunho echoing with a bright laugh, completely unaware. Mingi rode near the front with Yunho, both deep in conversation with one of the guards. Tidus, as always, trailed behind like a predator with too much patience.
By midday, the trees began to thin. The road widened and curved upward, the scent of burning leaves and honey sweet cider growing stronger in the crisp air. And then they saw it. The Autumn Court. Built into the curve of a mountain and nestled in a valley of crimson and gold, the court was a breathtaking mix of nature and craft. Spiraling towers of ivy covered stone glinted with molten copper roofs. Bridges arched over waterfalls, and curling vines wrapped around glowing lanterns suspended mid air. The trees surrounding the palace were ablaze with orange, scarlet, and deep burgundy leaves that danced in the wind like flames. Fae guards in deep maroon armor opened the towering gates as they approached, not a word exchanged. They knew who Yunho was. And who rode beside him.
As they entered, the air shifted, warmer, richer, alive with magic. Fae lined the inner courtyard, bowing with a flourish to the arriving party. Y/N couldnât help but stare in awe, the colors, the sound of string instruments drifting on the wind, the smell of spice and citrus in the air. âWoah,â Gunho breathed beside her. âDo you think theyâll have honeycakes here?â Wooyoung smirked. âTheyâll have everything, trust me. Hongjoong doesnât know the meaning of subtle.â The mention of that name made Y/Nâs head turn sharply. And as if summoned by fate itself,
there he stood at the top of the stairs. Hongjoong. Young, sharp eyed, eyes the color of autumn itself, draped in shades of amber and wine, red velvet. A circlet of bronze rested against his curled auburn hair. His expression unreadable until it broke into the faintest smile as he stepped down to greet them.
At his side, Seonghwa, regal and elegant, dark hair long and wavy as he greeted Yunho with a respectful nod before letting his gaze fall on Y/N. A curious flicker crossed his face. âWelcome to the Autumn Court,â Hongjoong said, voice smooth like the wind through leaves. âPrince Yunho. Prince Gunho. Mingi, my favorite stray wolf.â Mingi laughed. âStill better than being your least favorite cousin.â Hongjoong grinned, then turned to Y/N. His eyes scanned her, lingering just a moment too long on her neck, as if he could sense something there. âAnd this must be the human,â he said softly. âYouâve caused quite a stir in the lands.â
Y/N lifted her chin slightly, unwilling to shrink but Hongjoong just chuckled, amused. âGood. We like a little chaos here.â Behind him, Seonghwa only smiled. The Autumn Court was nothing like the Night Court. Where the Night Court stood tall in cold stone and muted shadows, the Autumn Court was alive, amber leaves curling on the breeze despite the lack of wind, the palace draped in warm golds and burnt oranges, itâs high archways carved from trees that still pulsed with magic. Music drifted faintly on the air, the sound of laughter echoing in the distance as if the walls themselves carried joy. Hongjoong stood at the grand entrance, arms outstretched in greeting as Yunhoâs party dismounted. âMost of the guests will be arriving by sundown. The Solstice begins tomorrow night.â
He didnât look much older than Yunho, but there was a weight behind his eyes, centuries of rule packed into a youthful frame. Seonghwa stood a few steps behind him, elegant in soft rust colored robes, a hand resting gently on the hilt of his ornamental sword. Y/N stepped forward beside Wooyoung, brushing back her wind tossed hair, her cheeks still warm from riding. She felt the weight of Hongjoongâs gaze once again, not lingering inappropriately like Tidus or curious like Gunho. No, his stare was sharper. Knowing. Especially when his eyes dropped to her left hand. âTo bring a human to our lands, Yunho⊠Iâm surprised your father hasnât thrown a fit,â Hongjoong murmured, still watching her. But his tone didnât carry disapproval. More like amusement. âThatâs an interesting ring.â
Y/N froze. So did Wooyoung beside her, his brow furrowed. Mingi, just a few paces behind, looked up from adjusting his sleeves. Even Yunho, who had been greeting Seonghwa with a quiet nod, turned to glance at her as Y/N blinked, then looked down at her hand. The silver ring on her finger was simple. Worn. A thin band with a moonstone set in a crescent of tiny opals. No one had ever commented on it before. Not even Jongho. She wore it on instinct, always had since her mother had given it to her. âIt was my motherâs,â she replied lightly, brushing her thumb over it. Her voice stayed casual, but something in her stomach twisted. âNothing fancy.â But Hongjoong didnât stop looking. And Y/N didnât notice the way Seonghwa subtly tilted his head, the corners of his lips pressing together in realization. âI see,â Hongjoong said at last, his smile returning, but tighter now, like heâd just swallowed a secret. âWell. Letâs get everyone settled, shall we? The west wing has rooms ready. And Wooyoung, donât even think about sneaking into the wine cellar before dusk.â
âI would never,â Wooyoung said, already planning how he absolutely would. Y/N let the moment pass, heart still uneasy. But as she walked through the glowing halls of the Autumn Court, something cold lingered under her skin. She had no idea Hongjoong had just seen a ghost. Not her face, but her motherâs. And that ring? It used to belong to his own mother once. Seonghwa walked with the kind of effortless grace that made it hard to tell if his feet even touched the ground. Y/N followed beside him with Gunho trailing just a step behind, eyes wide as they moved through the glowing halls of the Autumn Court. The walls were alive with enchanted vines and shifting light, the marble veined with gold that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. Every corner of this place shimmered.
âI feel like Iâm walking through a painting,â Y/N murmured, her voice quiet with awe. Seonghwa smiled, his hands clasped behind his back as he led them through an arched corridor. âYouâre not far off. The palace was shaped by the Court itself, not built. Autumn magic tends to be more⊠dramatic. Hongjoong says itâs because the season is all about the bittersweet, life on the edge of sleep.â Gunho tugged at Y/Nâs sleeve. âIs the whole court like this? Like, the trees too?â Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder, amused. âWould you like to see for yourself?â Gunho nodded so fast Y/N laughed. They stepped out through towering double doors and into the gardens, and Y/Nâs breath caught again. The trees were aflame with color, burnt gold, blood orange, deep scarlet. Leaves drifted lazily through the air like it was always just on the edge of fall. Lanterns hung from the branches and glowed on their own, like caught fireflies. A narrow path led through the garden, twisting through hedges shaped into animals that bowed their heads as they passed. âThe garden adjusts depending on the time of day,â Seonghwa said. âSunset is the most beautiful. Though sunrise gives it a quiet kind of magic.â
âHave you lived here long?â Y/N asked, trailing her fingers along a bush that sparkled faintly with dew, even though it hadnât rained. âFor as long as Hongjoong has ruled,â he answered, glancing her way. âHe inherited the court young, after his brotherâs passing. It wasnât easy for him. Still isnât sometimes. But he loves this place. Protects it fiercely. Iâm from the summer court originally.â Y/N looked up at the twisting spires in the distance, then down at the ring on her finger. She didnât know why, but her stomach stirred again. âI think heâs a little scary,â Gunho whispered, as if Hongjoong could hear them from across the grounds and Seonghwa chuckled. âHe can be. Heâs sharper than he looks. And he doesnât like being lied to. But heâs a good ruler.â
Y/N nodded, quiet. She could feel that already. That sharpness beneath the charm. That calculating look when he saw her ring. The way he didnât question it more, just tucked the knowledge away. Gunho darted ahead, drawn to a pool at the edge of the garden where koi fish with scales like glowing leaves swam in lazy circles. Seonghwa slowed beside her, voice lower now. âIf you ever need anything while youâre here⊠you can come to me.â Y/N looked at him, surprised as Seonghwa met her eyes calmly. âI mean that.â She held his gaze a second longer, then gave a small nod. âI appreciate it.â And as the garden flickered with golden light and distant music began to drift from somewhere inside the palace, Y/N had the strangest feeling in her chest. Like something was beginning. Or something very old was waking up.
The sun had dipped low behind the golden spires of the Autumn Court, casting long amber shadows across the palace as the solstice approached. That night, the great hall was lit in full autumn splendor, chandeliers made of twisted vines and glass leaves shimmered above the long banquet tables, casting light like sunlight through trees. Candles flickered with flame that danced between gold and crimson, the entire room alive with warmth and magic. Y/N sat between Wooyoung and Gunho, her plate half picked at, though everything was delicious. The nobles of the Autumn Court were far more relaxed than she expected, laughing and drinking freely, their silks and leathers more earth toned and wild than the rigid darks of the Night Court or the chilling whites of what she imagined the Winter Court must be. But something still buzzed in the air, anticipation, tension, curiosity. She could feel eyes on her even when she wasnât looking. Wooyoung leaned closer. âYou okay?â Y/N nodded, sipping her wine. âYeah, just⊠a lot.â
âItâs always like this before the solstice,â he said with a shrug, then grinned. âTomorrowâs the real fun.â And just as he said that, the double doors at the end of the hall opened, and everything shifted. The music faltered for just a breath. Heads turned. Even Hongjoong looked up from his quiet conversation with Seonghwa. A fae man strode in with sun on his skin and arrogance in his step. The air almost shimmered around him, as if it refused to let go. Broad shouldered, deeply tanned, wearing a loose open shirt in rich burnt orange that clung to his chest like it wanted to fall off. His dark was pushed back by a bronze circlet, and gold hoops lined one ear. A sword strapped casually to his back. A few leaves still tangled in his hair like heâd walked through the forest itself and it hadnât wanted him to leave.
Wooyoung groaned under his breath, nearly sliding under the table. âOf course heâd show up now.â Y/N blinked. âWho is that?â She asked. âSan. Heir of the Summer Court. The golden menace. The heartbreak king. Love of my life.â Y/N choked on her wine as Wooyoung just patted her back, eyes narrowed at the man approaching the high table like he owned the place. San was all heat and confidence, bowing slightly to Hongjoong with a smile before scanning the table, and then his gaze landed on Y/N. And he stopped. Dead in his tracks. Y/N froze as his head tilted slightly, a curious glint in his eyes. Like he knew something. Like heâd felt something the second he looked at her.
He stepped toward them without hesitation as Wooyoung muttered, âDonât say I didnât warn you.â San stopped right across from where Y/N sat and gave her the kind of smile that didnât just warm the room, it set it on fire. âI donât think weâve met,â he said, voice smooth and rich like honeyed brandy. âIâm San.â Y/N stared up at him, still a little dazed, but managed, âY/N.â He grinned wider. âBeautiful name. Fitting.â She opened her mouth, no idea what she was going to say, but before she could speak, Yunhoâs voice cut in, low and flat from just a few seats down. âSheâs bound to me.â His words hit like a dog pissing on his territory. Sanâs gaze flicked to him, still smiling, but there was a flicker of amusement beneath.
âDidnât ask,â San said easily, then looked back at Y/N. âBut thanks for the information.â And then he winked at her and sat himself right next to Gunho like heâd been invited.
Wooyoung hissed under his breath. Y/N just sat there, heart beating fast for reasons she didnât quite understand, feeling like the real solstice storm had just arrived early as dinner stretched on under the glowing canopy of enchanted leaves that floated lazily above the long table, casting flickers of gold and russet light like dappled sun through the trees. Laughter echoed, goblets clinked, and the scent of roasted meats and spiced fruits perfumed the air.
Y/N hadnât even realized how close San had settled beside her until she felt the warmth of his arm as he passed her the honeyed carrots with a small smile, his voice low and kind. Genuinely kind. âTry these. They taste like the ones we used to steal from the Summer kitchens when we were kids.â She smiled back, amused. âAnd you didnât get caught?â
âOh, I got caught every time,â he grinned. âSeonghwa tattled. Still worth it.â Across the table, Seonghwa gave an unbothered shrug without looking up from his wine. Gunho was fully engaged in a story San was animatedly telling, something about a phoenix hunt gone sideways, with Mingi chuckling along and Wooyoung poking fun from the far end. The energy had eased into something almost cozy, until Hongjoong leaned forward, eyes calm but calculating. His voice was casual, but Y/N felt the weight behind it. âSo,â he said, tone light, âhow did you end up bound to the heir of the Night Court?â
The table quieted, just slightly. Enough to make her spine straighten. Yunho didnât look up, simply cutting into his venison with clean, methodical movements as Y/N cleared her throat, fingers brushing against the edge of her plate. âIt wasnât on purpose.â That earned a raised brow from Hongjoong. âIt usually isnât.â Yunho finally looked up then, his gaze dark but not unfriendly, voice calm. âShe crossed the border. A creature nearly tore her apart. I stopped it.â Hongjoong hummed, eyes flicking to the ring on her finger again before returning to her face. âAnd you didnât know about the laws.â Y/N shook her head. âWe humans avoid fae.â San leaned in a little, not intruding, just present. âMustâve been terrifying.â
âIt was,â she admitted quietly. âAnd confusing. But⊠he saved me.â San offered a soft smile. âThen Iâm glad he did.â Yunhoâs eyes flicked to him for a heartbeat. San didnât back down, just kept that same relaxed smile, warm and genuine. No competition, no sharpness. Just⊠him as Hongjoong studied her for another moment, then leaned back with a nod. âInteresting fate.â Seonghwa gently set his glass down. âMore than fate, I think.â The tension broke, replaced with amusement and conversation again. Dishes passed hands, wine refilled, and as the night went on, Y/N could feel something shift ever so slightly once again. They werenât just seeing her as a human anymore. They were starting to see her.
The moon hung heavy over the Autumn Courtâs spired rooftops, casting long silver shadows across the marble balconies and winding gardens below. The halls of the palace had gone still, silent but for the faint crackle of enchanted lanterns and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by a midnight breeze. Y/N wandered barefoot, her cloak drawn tight around her shoulders as she padded through the quiet halls. Sleep had evaded her completely, her mind too full, her chest too heavy. Between Tidusâ lingering eyes, Hongjoongâs questions at dinner, and the quiet, slow burning tension with Yunho and Mingi, she felt stretched thin. Like a thread pulled taut. The gardens shimmered under the starlight, glowing softly with magic. She paused at the edge of the archway, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle and dew.
âYou always sneak off when the castle sleeps?â came a calm voice. She startled, turning toward the figure approaching down the gravel path. Hongjoong. He wasnât dressed as formally as heâd been at dinner, just dark slacks and a loose robe belted at the waist, barefoot like her. His hair was tousled, and moonlight caught the streaks of brighter red hidden in the auburn strands. âI couldnât sleep,â she murmured. He nodded, falling into step beside her without being asked. âThe Autumn Court does that to people. Too many voices in the wind. Too many memories.â
They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the distant chirp of insects in the trees. Eventually, they came upon a low stone wall overlooking the gardens, ivy covered and worn smooth by time. She climbed up, settling on the edge as he leaned casually beside her. âDo you remember your parents?â he asked, voice mild. Just curious. Maybe too curious. Y/N blinked at him. âThatâs⊠forward.â He smiled faintly. âIâve never liked small talk.â She hesitated, then exhaled, brushing her thumb across her ring. âNot really. They died when I was a kid.â Hongjoong held her gaze for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. âAnd you donât remember anything from before?â
âNo. Just flashes. My mother singing. Golden trees. The smell of firewood and citrus.â She smiled faintly. âAnd a man with ink stained fingers who used to read me stories in the dark. I always assumed he was my father.â Hongjoong turned his face slightly, eyes distant before he nodded toward her ring. âYou said it was your motherâs.â She glanced down at it. âYeah. She wore it all the time before giving it to me.â
âItâs an old ring,â he said softly. âFae forged. From the High Court, long before the war.â She looked at him, startled. âHow would you know that?â
âIâm old,â he replied without missing a beat, then pushed off the wall. âCome on. The moon will set soon.â She stayed seated. âDo you ask every girl with a ring about her dead parents, or am I just lucky?â Hongjoong smiled, walking backwards now, hands tucked behind his back. âOnly the ones who remind me of someone I used to know.â There was something about the way he said it, like he was speaking to her and to a memory all at once, that made her chest ache as Y/N watched him disappear down the path, the shadows swallowing him like they were used to him slipping in and out of their grasp.
She didnât know what he meant. Not yet. But something in her gut said Hongjoong knew far more than he let on. About the ring. About her parents. About her. And for the first time since stepping into the fae world⊠she wasnât sure if she was ready to know.
The next day dawned cool and golden, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of maple wood and morning dew through the courtyards of the Autumn Palace. Everywhere Y/N looked, people were preparing, draping velvet banners from balconies, lighting floating lanterns in the halls, and arranging blooming twilight roses in every fountain. The Solstice Festival would begin at sundown, and anticipation shimmered in the air like magic. Gunho had been swept off early to help string lights along the upper walkways, while Seonghwa and Wooyoung disappeared somewhere with a cart full of enchanted firecrackers. Y/N wandered the gardens with a warm cup of cider in her hands, grateful for a moment of quiet.
Meanwhile, Yunho and Mingi were walking side by side through the lower courtyard, their pace unhurried as they followed the winding stone path that led through the eastern gardens. Yunho had been tense all morning, his jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking whenever Tidus was nearby. âShe didnât sleep much,â Yunho muttered, arms folded as he stared ahead. Mingi gave him a sidelong look. âY/N?â Yunho didnât answer, but the stiffness in his shoulders gave him away. Mingi sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. âSheâs strong. You know that, right?â
âShe shouldnât have to be.â
Before Mingi could respond, a silvery voice rang out behind them. âWell, well⊠I thought I recognized those brooding shoulders.â Yunho stopped walking. Mingi turned just in time to see a striking figure gliding toward them, tall, elegant, blonde and dressed in a sheer black gown embroidered with threads of starlight. Her curly hair was braided back with tiny crystals woven through the strands, and her green eyes shimmered with amusement as they landed on Yunho. âDrusilla,â Yunho said flatly, his voice like ice. âFuck me,â Mingi muttered under his breath, already slowing his stride.
âMingi,â she purred, âstill slouching like you didnât grow up in a palace.â Mingi gave her a smirk, not quite friendly. âStill slinking around like you own every room you walk into.â
âI donât own them,â she said lightly. âThey just know better than to forget me.â Yunho let out a long breath, clearly already done. âWhat are you doing here?â Drusilla blinked innocently. âYouâre not the only one with an invitation to the Solstice, darling. Iâve just returned from the Spring Court. Their parties are all flowers and flutes. Boring.â
âAnd yet,â Mingi said, folding his arms, âyou stayed for nearly a year.â She tilted her head. âAnd miss your charming company?â Yunho scoffed. âDonât flatter yourself. Weâre not interested.â
âOh, I know,â she said smoothly, taking a step closer. âThe Winter wolf and the Night heir⊠trailing after that little human like she hung the stars.â Mingiâs jaw ticked. âCareful.â Drusillaâs smile curled, too pleased. âRelax. Iâm not here to start trouble. Iâm just curious. Iâve never seen you two so⊠invested.â Yunhoâs voice was flat. âBecause itâs none of your business.â She sighed dramatically, then looked back at Mingi. âI suppose it was too much to hope weâd share a drink like old times.â
âYou tried to put me in a coma once.â
âThat was years ago.â
âIt was three.â
She waved a hand. âLet me know if you change your mind.â Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, heels tapping against the stones like the ticking of a clock. Yunho exhaled harshly. âSheâs like a damn curse.â Mingi was still watching the spot she vanished from. âSheâs worse when sheâs polite.â
âSheâs going to stir shit.â
âShe always does.â
Yunho looked at him. âYouâre good?â Mingi cracked his neck. âFine. Just⊠keep her away from Y/N.â Yunhoâs eyes darkened. âI was already planning on it.â And with that, they turned toward the upper halls, where banners of dusk blue and silver fluttered in the breeze and the faint scent of spices signaled the festival preparations in full swing. Neither of them noticed the Drusilla still watching from the shadows behind the ivy covered colonnade, her smile quiet⊠and deadly.
The chamber was warm with flickering lamplight when Y/N returned from her bath, her skin still slightly damp from the lavender scented steam. A soft knock came at the door, and when she opened it, she was greeted by a girl with wild ginger curls and curious green eyes. âLady Y/N?â the girl asked, giving a polite dip of her head. âIâm Felicity. I serve under Lord Hongjoong. He asked that I bring this to you for the Solstice festival tonight.â In her arms, draped across careful hands, was a gown the color of burnished clay, rich, warm, and unlike anything Y/N had ever worn. The fabric caught the firelight like autumn flame, the bodice structured with delicate pleats that cinched the waist, jeweled accents forming a chain across the neckline and down the front. Y/N stared. âThatâs⊠for me?â Felicity nodded. âIt was chosen specifically for you by Lord Hongjoong himself.â
She stepped into the room, carefully laying the dress over the edge of the bed. âThe fit should be perfect,â she added, smoothing a hand over the fabric. âHe said it once belonged to someone dear to the Autumn Court.â Y/N tilted her head. âReally?â She didnât know why the idea sent a strange flutter through her chest. Y/N stood still as Felicity moved around her with practiced hands, pulling the gown gently into place. The fabric slid over her skin like memory, soft, cool, and strangely grounding. She tried not to overthink the tightness in her chest as Felicity fastened the bejeweled straps at her shoulders and tugged the sides snug around her waist.
âYou have the frame for it,â Felicity murmured, stepping back to admire her handiwork. âCorseted, but not stiff. Just enough to remind the room youâre not to be underestimated.â Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. âIt feels like armor.â
âGood,â Felicity grinned. âThatâs what it was made for.â They stood in companionable silence for a moment before Felicity retrieved a small wooden box from the side table. Inside, nestled against crushed velvet, was a collection of delicate pins and chains, each made from gold and copper wire, shaped into tiny autumn leaves and twisting vines. She picked up a few and began gently sweeping Y/Nâs hair back from her face. âYouâve got the kind of hair thatâs too pretty to fight,â she hummed. âSo we let it fall just enough to look like rebellion.â Y/N arched a brow in the mirror. âThat sounds very Autumn Court.â Felicity smirked. âWe do love a little chaos.â
She had just finished tucking the last pin in place when the door opened without a knock. âHope Iâm not interrupting some delicate lady magic,â came Wooyoungâs voice, dry and amused as he leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed and dressed to kill in dark slacks and a deep green tunic that shimmered with night-thread. âBut everyoneâs nearly ready, and Mingiâs threatening to drink without you if you take much longer.â Y/N turned, and Wooyoung stopped mid sentence. His playful smirk faltered, blinking once. Twice. âShit.â Felicity grinned behind her, clearly pleased. âThatâs the reaction we like.â Wooyoung stepped further into the room, eyes sweeping over Y/N like he wasnât quite sure what realm heâd just walked into. âYou⊠you look like a goddess. A really, really unfair one.â Y/N laughed, a little flustered under the intensity of his gaze. âItâs just a dress.â
âThat is not just a dress,â he shot back, stepping around her slowly, like he was trying to memorize the way the fabric clung to her body and fanned around her hips. âWhere the hell did Joong find this?â Felicity looked up from fixing a final strand. âIt used to belong to someone important he said.â Wooyoung raised a brow, but didnât press. Instead, he reached out and offered Y/N his arm. âCome on, autumn queen. Time to make everyone else look underdressed.â She hesitated, brushing a hand over herself where the fabric hugged just a bit too tight, almost like a whisper of something forgotten. But she took his arm anyway. âLetâs go set the whole court on fire,â he grinned and Y/N smiled. âWhy not?â
The lanterns were already glowing, suspended in midair like fireflies caught in amber. The entire courtyard had transformed, warm gold spilling from crystal chandeliers, the scent of spiced wine and roasted fruits thick in the breeze, and music playing somewhere in the background, soft and pulsing like a heartbeat as Yunho adjusted the collar of his deep navy tunic, trimmed in silver thread that caught the lamplight with every breath he took. He was still fidgeting with the bracer around his forearm when Mingi appeared beside him, holding two glasses. âCheers to the Autumn Court,â Mingi grinned, handing one over. Yunho eyed the glowing contents warily. âWhat did you grab?â Mingi sipped first, then smacked his lips. âElixir of Clarity. Or Chaos. I didnât read the label.â
Yunho huffed a laugh. âOf course you didnât. You always go for the drinks that look like they were brewed by madmen.â Mingi wiggled his eyebrows. âWhereâs the fun in moderation?â Before Yunho could answer, a familiar, unwelcome voice curled into the air beside them once again. âI just canât seem to miss the two of you, can I?â Yunho stiffened as Drusilla stepped into their space like she belonged there, hair pinned in a crown of crystal thorns, her dress made of something that shimmered like water and venom. She smiled at Yunho as if he were still hers, and tilted her head coyly at Mingi. Yunho didnât bother with a reply, too busy draining his drink just to get through the encounter without saying something heâd regret. But then, midway through lowering his glass, his entire body locked up. Mingi followed his gaze a second later and froze as well.
Across the courtyard, beneath a canopy of woven vines and fae glass, Y/N stepped into the light. Wooyoung was at her side, gesturing wildly as he said something that had her laughing, bright and unguarded. She looked⊠radiant. The deep copper and green tones of her dress shimmered against her skin like sunlight cutting through forest leaves. Her hair was pinned back, wild in the way only magic could make elegant. Her smile hit Yunho like a punch. Next to him, Mingi swore softly. âYouâve got to be kidding me.â But the moment didnât end there. Because as if the gods themselves were determined to twist the knife, Hongjoong approached from the crowd, dressed in regal Autumn Court finery. He didnât hesitate, just offered Y/N his arm with that signature smirk, and she, completely unaware of the twin storms brewing across the courtyard, rested her hand against his sleeve. They walked off together, her head tilted up as he whispered something into her ear.
Mingiâs jaw clenched. Yunho didnât speak. Drusilla blinked, sensing the sudden shift, and followed their gaze. When she spotted Y/N, her expression soured instantly. âOh. Her.â Yunho didnât even glance at her. His eyes were locked on the curve of Y/Nâs smile, the way her fingers tapped lightly against Hongjoongâs arm. The soft sway of her hips. The weight of something he couldnât name tightening in his chest as Mingi downed the rest of his drink in one go.
Y/N didnât realize how long sheâd been walking beside Hongjoong until they slowed near the curved edge of the great reflecting pool, itâs surface catching the flicker of lanterns and firelight, moonlight tangled in its glassy ripples. Laughter rang like bells in the distance, music swelling and falling in waves that danced on the wind. âStay close,â Hongjoong murmured, his voice low and amused. âThe courtâs full of charm tonight, but it still has teeth.â She gave him a look. âI think I can handle teeth.â
âGood,â he said, lips quirking. âBecause theyâre already watching.â Before she could ask what that meant, another figure stepped smoothly into their path, elegant, sharp featured, dressed in deep burgundy and warm golds. âSeonghwa,â Hongjoong greeted him with a nod and loving gaze. âPerfect timing.â
âI always am,â Seonghwa replied with a small bow. His eyes flicked to Y/N, and his smile softened. âYou must be overwhelmed. May I offer you something to drink? Itâs not too strong. Just something to settle your nerves.â Y/N hesitated, then nodded. âIâd like that.â He reached for a tray carried by a floating silver disc and handed her a tall crystal flute with a faintly glowing golden drink inside. It shimmered like sunlight in syrup, and when she sipped it, warmth immediately bloomed in her chest, not intoxicating, just⊠peaceful. âThank you,â she said, looking up at him and Seonghwa gave her a small nod and stepped beside her, hands clasped behind his back. âThe Autumn Court has that effect,â he said softly, eyes scanning the festival around them. âIt gets under your skin. Sometimes it makes you feel things you forgot you were capable of.â
Y/N looked around, the arching bridges lined with candles, the way firelight flickered on copper leafed trees, the faint scent of apples and woodsmoke. There was something in the air, comforting and aching all at once. âItâs beautiful,â she said after a long pause. âIt almost feels like⊠home.â Seonghwaâs head tilted slightly at her words. âAlmost?â She didnât answer right away. Her eyes drifted to the edge of the gardens, where soft vines curled along golden trellises, where music swirled and voices echoed. There was no concrete memory to cling to, no image of her mother or father standing on these very stones. But her heart thudded like it knew something her mind couldnât reach. âI donât know what home feels like,â she admitted quietly. âBut if I had to guess⊠it would be something like this.â There was a beat of silence before Seonghwa spoke, his voice quieter than before. âYou look like someone I used to know. Someone who once said the same thing standing in this very spot.â
She turned to him slowly, eyebrows lifting. âWho?â He didnât answer. Just offered her another small smile, full of shadows and withheld truths, and then said, âCome. Hongjoong will want you to meet the other court lords before the next toast.â And though her legs moved, part of her lingered behind, still tasting the faint sweetness of the drink on her lips, still feeling the strange echo of something long buried stirring just beneath her skin. Y/N let herself be guided deeper into the festival, the music growing brighter, more playful the closer they got to the heart of the courtyard. Lanterns floated overhead in gentle swirls, casting amber light over revelers dressed in shades of fire, harvest, and midnight.
Seonghwa was the perfect escort, elegant, attentive, charming without being overwhelming. He moved like heâd been born to this world, like heâd personally choreographed the rhythm of the festival itself. She didnât notice at first that he was steering her gently away from Yunhoâs line of sight. But Yunho noticed from his post beneath a canopy of trees strung with lanterns, he watched Y/N like gravity itself had fixed him in place. Mingi stood beside him, one brow raised as he took a long sip of his too blue elixir drink, the kind that bubbled faintly and probably lit your veins on fire. âShe looks good in the dress,â Mingi said, glancing at him sideways. Yunho didnât answer. His jaw was clenched too tight. âShe looks happy,â Mingi added, and Yunhoâs eyes flicked toward him, sharp.
âFelix,â Seonghwa greeted warmly as they approached a wide circular table lined with other court envoys. âIâd like to introduce you to someone rather special.â The blonde prince turned, the starlight catching in the golden threads woven into his cream colored formal coat. He had sun kissed skin, bright amber eyes, and a boyish grin that made him look younger than he was, but the way he held himself, calm and confident, said otherwise. âThis is Y/N,â Seonghwa continued. âGuest of the Autumn Court, newly arrived.â
âAh,â Felix said, offering a small bow that was more flirt than formality. âSo youâre the mystery that has half the court whispering.â Y/N blinked. âAm I?â Felix chuckled. âThe festivalâs not even in full swing and youâve already made an impression. Thatâs rare here.â She opened her mouth to reply, but the words died when Felix reached out and gently took her hand, not in a claim, but something far more graceful. He brought her knuckles to his lips, eyes meeting hers over them. âFelix of the Day Court,â he said. âAnd may I say⊠the moonlight suits you, but Iâd love to see you in the sun.â
Y/N laughed, genuine and surprised, and didnât notice the ripple of tension that crossed Yunhoâs entire body like a wave of shadow. Mingi leaned in and muttered under his breath, âOkay, now I want to hit him.â Yunho didnât blink. Across the courtyard, Felix still held her hand, though now he was turning it slightly to examine the ring on her finger. âThis is a rare piece,â he mused aloud, glancing at Seonghwa. âLooks like something from the old crafts of the Autumn Court.â
âFamily heirloom,â Y/N said smoothly, pulling her hand back. âMy motherâs.â Something unreadable flickered in Seonghwaâs gaze, but he stayed quiet as Felix smiled again. âA beautiful piece for a beautiful mystery.â From the shadows, Yunho took a step forward before Mingi gently grabbed his arm. âDonât,â Mingi warned. âYou storm in there now, itâll be exactly what Drusilla wants to see. Sheâs already watching.â
Yunho didnât have to look to know she was. But Y/N? She was laughing again, charmed by someone else, shining in the very court where she belonged without knowing it. And Yunho could feel it slipping. Whatever this was between them. Or maybe⊠it had never really been his to hold. He didnât take his eyes off her. Even as the crowd swelled and laughter echoed across the courtyard, even as new music swirled through the air and Drusilla appeared again at the edge of his vision like a bad memory he couldnât blink away, he couldnât stop watching Y/N.
She was radiant in the dress, standing beneath a cascade of golden leaves, smiling with her lips tinted dark. She was laughing at something Felix said, the blonde bastard all charm and sunshine and easy grace like he wasnât an absolute menace in charming disguise. Mingi let out a long exhale beside him, tipping back the rest of his bubbling elixir. His throat bobbed with the swallow before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and muttered, âIâm going for a run.â Yunho turned just enough to glance at him. The tightness in his jaw matched Yunhoâs own. âYou sure?â Yunho asked low, though he already knew. Mingiâs eyes glinted under the lanternlight, that pale winter blue already starting to frost over. âUnless you want me to punch a Day Court prince in front of everyone.â
Yunho didnât stop him. Mingi was gone with a quick flick of his coat, slipping into the crowd like smoke, out through one of the shadowed hedgerow paths, toward the forests surrounding the palace. The Autumn Court stretched for miles in every direction, thick with trees and magic and enough open space for a wolf to tear out his frustration without witnesses. Yunhoâs fists clenched behind his back. Because he understood. Every second that Felix kept her attention, every moment she smiled at the prince like he wasnât just a polished threat in golden wrapping, something ancient and possessive curled deeper into Yunhoâs gut. She didnât even know she was his. Didnât know what the bond between them really meant. That heâd tasted her fear and her rage, had felt the way her pulse jumped when she touched him. That something in his blood recognized her, not just as the girl he had been tied him to, but something older. Something sacred.
And she was smiling for someone else. Someone not him. The ring on her finger caught the lanternlight again as she reached for a goblet from Seonghwa. And Yunho saw it then, Hongjoong wasnât the only one who noticed. Drusilla, now standing a few feet behind Felix, tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes at the band of and moonstone. Yunho shifted on instinct, placing himself subtly between her and Y/N. But Y/N didnât notice. Not yet. She was too busy existing like she belonged here. And Yunho wasnât sure if he wanted to drag her out of this court and claim her under the stars⊠or if sheâd look at him like he was the villain if he tried.
Y/N didnât notice her at first. She was too caught up in the shimmer of the court around her, the way the leaves above seemed to burn gold and crimson with no flame at all, the way laughter curled in the air like smoke, the faint taste of honey and spice still on her tongue from the drink Seonghwa gave her. But then someone touched her elbow lightly. âDarling, I donât believe weâve met,â came a voice as smooth and saccharine as syrup. Y/N turned to see a woman of unfair beauty, curly blonde hair coiled into elaborate twists, a tight gown of obsidian velvet, and lips the color of crushed berries. Her eyes were pale green, too pale, and glinted like frostbite beneath a smile that didnât quite reach them. âIâm Drusilla,â she said sweetly, brushing an invisible speck from Y/Nâs shoulder. âOf the Night Court.â
Y/N blinked, polite but instinctively on guard. âY/N,â she replied simply. Drusillaâs smile curved sharper. âOh, youâre the one.â Her eyes flicked briefly to Yunho across the courtyard, still standing stiff, jaw tight. âI see.â Y/N barely had time to ask what that meant when Drusilla produced a glass from seemingly nowhere, an amber liquid glowing faintly inside. âA welcome drink,â she offered. âAutumnâs specialty. You must be overwhelmed⊠and terribly thirsty.â Something in Y/Nâs gut hesitated. But the womanâs tone was too smooth, too practiced, and she didnât want to appear rude. She reached out, fingers brushing the cool glass and she didnât hear how just before she grabbed it, Drusilla leaned in, her mouth brushing the rim of the cup as if to steady it. Her whisper was so soft it couldâve been mistaken for breath, âMingi.â
The spell took root instantly. It wasnât overpowering, no, Drusilla was far too clever for that. But it nestled beneath the surface of Y/Nâs thoughts like a buried ember. A suggestion. A hunger. The moment the drink touched Y/Nâs lips, warmth bloomed across her chest and coiled low in her belly. She blinked, startled by how sweet it was, how it fizzed with something strange⊠tingling. Drusillaâs grin widened like a cat catching sight of a canary. âI do hope you enjoy the festival,â she said, her tone honeyed. âItâs full of⊠surprises.â And then she disappeared into the crowd with the rustle of silk and secrets as Y/N stood there for a moment, glass still in hand, her skin now feeling a touch too warm. Her eyes flicked across the courtyard instinctively just in time to see Mingi reappear between two towering trees at the edge of the garden. Hair tousled, shirt open, eyes glowing faintly with the residue of his shift.
Her heart skipped. Her breath hitched. And without understanding why, her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. Y/N pulled her gaze away from Mingiâs, the strange flutter in her stomach blooming wider, hotter. Her throat felt dry, her fingers still curled too tightly around the empty glass. She set it down on a tray a passing servant carried and forced a quiet breath through her nose. Itâs just the drink, she told herself. Just the heat. Just the crowd. The laugh sheâd shared with Wooyoung earlier felt like a memory from another night. The garden lights blurred slightly at the edges. She needed a moment. So she slipped between two tall hedges just off the main courtyard, her silk skirts brushing over the worn stone path as she made her way into a quieter part of the gardens. Lanterns glowed soft gold between the trees. Cicadas hummed. A breeze stirred the curling ivy that twisted up the archways.
Behind her, Yunhoâs jaw tensed from where he still stood in the center of the crowd. A group of Day Court nobles had cornered him, not unkindly, but insistently, peppering him with questions about his father, about whether Lord Alec would be attending the Solstice, about the current standing of the Night Courtâs alliances. His polite mask didnât crack, but his eyes never stopped tracking her. Not when she slipped away. Not when he saw Mingi start to follow.
Mingi had only caught a glimpse of her across the courtyard, her eyes locking with his, something flashing in them he couldnât name. His skin still thrummed from the shift, blood still buzzing from the run, but none of that mattered when he saw her disappear through the hedges, alone. So he went after her. Not because he sensed anything was wrong. But because he wanted to. Because the way she looked tonight, gown flowing like flame, eyes shadowed with something deeper than just mystery, did something dangerous to him. Something he wasnât ready to admit out loud.
He found her standing at the edge of a fountain, palms braced on the cool stone lip as she leaned slightly forward, head bowed. The glow of the lanterns lit the edge of her profile, the soft curve of her neck. Her chest rose and fell in quiet, uneven breaths. âHey,â he said, voice low making her turn slowly. And when she saw him, Mingi, still flushed from the run, eyes gleaming silver in the night, something inside her snapped. The spell didnât demand action, didnât puppet her body. But it amplified what was already there. A buried want. A locked door given the slightest nudge open. âIâŠ. needed a second,â she said, voice quiet. Mingi tilted his head, walking closer. âI figured.â She didnât step back. She didnât look away.
âYou okay?â
Y/N hesitated. She didnât know how to explain the heat in her blood. The way her pulse raced at just the sight of him. The way the scent of moss and cold wind and him made her feel like her skin didnât fit right anymore. âI think⊠something was in that drink,â she whispered and Mingi frowned. âWhat do you mean?â Y/N shook her head. âI donât know. I feel⊠strange. Like I want toâŠâ She trailed off, biting her lip. Her eyes flicked up to his, pupils dilated. âLike you want to what?â he asked softly, a slow smile curling at the edges of his mouth completely unaware as she laughed breathless. âIâm not saying that out loud.â Mingiâs brow arched. âNow Iâm curious.â
She looked away, trying to collect herself. But the spellâs influence buzzed just beneath the surface, curling warm and electric. She didnât know why it was him that made her feel like this, but she couldnât shake the feeling that if he touched her now, even once, sheâd melt right into it. Mingi, still unaware of the spell, took another step closer. âCome on,â he said, grin widening, teasing. âTell me.â Mingi stopped just short of her, close enough that she could feel the cold forest scent clinging to him, like night air after snow. He cocked his head, lips tugging into that familiar, infuriating grin. âYouâre acting like I just caught you doing something illegal,â he teased. âRelax. I donât bite unless invited.â
Y/N huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. âYouâre impossible.â
âAnd yet,â he said lightly, reaching out, fingers brushing her arm. It was barely a touch. Innocent. Casual. And the world shifted. Magic snapped tight like a drawn bowstring and Mingi sucked in a sharp breath, his grin vanishing instantly as something cold and electric shot up his spine. The contact burned, not painful, but overwhelming. His wolf stirred violently beneath his skin, instincts flaring hot and fast, eyes flashing silver for just a heartbeat as Y/N gasped at the same time. Her knees went weak, not dramatically, not enough to fall, but enough that Mingi reacted on instinct, his hand tightening around her arm to steady her. That made it worse.
The spell bloomed fully then, unfurling like a living thing. Suddenly, he could feel her. Not just her warmth or the quickened pulse beneath his palm, but her presence, sharp and intoxicating, like standing too close to a storm. Every breath she took felt loud. Every flicker of her lashes felt personal. His wolf pressed hard against the surface of his control, recognizing something it wanted without understanding why. âWhoa,â Mingi muttered, voice dropping. âOkay. Thatâs⊠new.â Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown, her hand still curled lightly in the fabric of his sleeve as if she didnât even realize sheâd grabbed him. âMingi,â she whispered, voice unsteady, âI really think somethingâs wrong.â He didnât let go. Couldnât.
His thumb brushed her skin before he could stop himself, and the contact sent another jolt through him, possessive, grounding, dangerous. His teasing tone was gone now, replaced by something more serious, more alert. âYeah,â he said quietly. âIâm starting to think youâre right.â Behind them, unseen through the hedges, shadows stirred. Yunho had finally shaken free of the Day Court nobles. And he was already moving, because he felt Y/Nâs panic, her confusion, because whatever had just flared between the two of them? He could feel it in his bones. His steps echoed hard and fast, but Mingi didnât hear him. He was locked in, fingertips grazing over Y/Nâs forearm, a touch that shouldâve been playful. Teasing. Something light to get her to roll her eyes at him, maybe call him out for flirting when she was clearly entertaining someone else.
The spell was invisible, but it hit like a sucker punch to the ribs, his breath caught, pupils blew wide, and the teasing quip on his tongue evaporated like steam. His whole body jolted. Every nerve lit up, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and a growl trembled deep in his throat before he even realized it was him. Y/N flinched like she felt it too, head jerking up to meet his gaze, her lips parting with a soft gasp, confusion storming across her face. âY/N?â Yunhoâs voice sliced through the spell like a blade. Too late. Mingi was already in front of her, half between her and Yunho without even thinking. He didnât remember moving. But when Yunho stepped closer, reaching out toward her with concern etched into every line of his faceâŠ.
Mingi growled. Low and warning. Not playful. Not teasing. This one was primal. Possessive. Laced with magic and instinct and a command that said, donât fucking touch whatâs mine. âMingi?â Yunho stopped short. Eyes narrowed. His own chest rising. He saw it immediately, the change. The heat rolling off Mingi, the tension in his shoulders, the faint glow in his irises like the wolf was right there under the surface. Yunhoâs brows furrowed, gaze flicking between the two of them. âY/NâŠ. are you okay?â But Y/N didnât answer. She couldnât. She was staring at Mingi like heâd just turned into something ancient and dangerous. Like something inside her recognized something inside him.
Mingi didnât even blink. Didnât speak. Didnât move, except to shift his body half a step closer to her again, ignoring the alarm in Yunhoâs voice and the pain clawing up the back of his skull as the spell was trying to finish binding them. This wasnât attraction. It wasnât a crush. This wasnât even his wolf. This was something else. Thatâs when Hongjoong appears, weaving through the crowd with the unshakable ease of someone whoâs been running shit since the day he could walk. His eyes flick from Yunhoâs tense stance to Mingiâs glowing ones and then to Y/N, whoâs still barely moving. âWhat is going on?â he mutters, stepping beside Yunho, brows furrowed.
âSomethingâs wrong,â Yunho says immediately. âThis isnât normal.â Before Hongjoong can ask anything else, Seonghwa catches up, gaze already sweeping over the three of them like a scanner. He steps into Y/Nâs line of sight gently, voice calm but direct. âY/N,â Seonghwa says. âTell me exactly what you drank or ate tonight. Anything at all.â Y/N blinks, her breath hitching, lips moving like sheâs struggling to form words. âI⊠a womanâŠâ Her eyes flick toward Seonghwa for only a second before snapping right back to Mingi. Her voice is soft, hoarse. âDru⊠IâŠ. canât remember her name. She gave me a drinkâŠâ Hongjoongâs jaw ticks. âWhat woman?â Y/Nâs fingers twitch like they want to reach out. âPretty. Light hair. Red lips. SheâŠ. she said itâŠ.. I didnât thinkâŠ.â her voice breaks as her pupils dilate even more. âEverything feels hot.â Mingiâs fists clench at his sides, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Yunho watches, horror washing over him as he realizes exactly whatâs happening. This isnât intoxication. Itâs enchantment. And itâs working fast.
âSheâs been spelled,â Seonghwa confirms quietly to Hongjoong, reading the signs with frightening clarity. âAnd MingiâŠâ
âIs the tether,â Yunho finishes, stomach sinking as Mingi growls again, lower this time, when Yunho takes a single step closer to her. This wasnât random. It was a targeted spell. And someone knew exactly who to use against her. Hongjoongâs eyes narrow as he puts it together, a cold edge slipping into his voice. âGet her away from him. Now. Before this turns into something we canât undo.â Seonghwa steps forward, calm but firm, his fingers already reaching gently for Y/Nâs wrist. âY/N. Come with me, okay? Just for a moment. Somewhere quiet.â But she doesnât move. She doesnât want to. Not with Mingi so close. Her body leans toward him involuntarily, eyes glazed with longing. And when Seonghwa touches her wrist, Mingi lets out a warning growl so visceral it echoes off the stones.
Hongjoong steps between them before it escalates, voice sharp. âMingi. Stand down.â Mingiâs glowing eyes flicker to him, chest heaving, the animal in him fighting. But he doesnât lunge. Doesnât speak. Just watches Seonghwaâs hand on Y/N like itâs a mortal offense. âShe needs to be separated from him until this wears off,â Hongjoong says again, quieter this time, for Seonghwa alone. âGet her somewhere safe.â Seonghwaâs expression shifts slightly, hesitant, unreadable. He turns, looking at Hongjoong, voice low. âIf it is what I think it is⊠it wonât just wear off.â
âWhat do you mean?â Yunho snaps, stepping forward, anxiety all over him as Seonghwaâs face is solemn. âItâs a lust binding. It uses a name, spoken directly into the drink before itâs consumed. That drink latches onto the first connection it finds between the named and the one who drinks it. Amplifies whatâs already there until it becomes⊠unbearable.â Hongjoong curses under his breath as Yunho stares at Seonghwa, something cold sliding down his spine. âSo what happens now?â
âIf she stays near MingiâŠâ Seonghwa glances back at her, at the way her breathing grows shallower the longer sheâs apart from him. âItâs only going to get worse. Her body will start reacting like sheâs running a fever. The longer she resists it, the more painful it becomes.â
âAnd if we separate them?â
Seonghwa sighs. âSheâll be in agony. And so will he. Once the spell starts feeding on both sides, itâs not a simple break.â
âSo how do we stop it?â Hongjoong asks, voice steel. âThere are ways,â Seonghwa says. âBut none of them are easy. And some⊠arenât reversible.â No one speaks for a moment. Mingi hasnât said a word, but his breathing is ragged, every inch of him trembling with restraint. And Y/N, gods, sheâs trying. You can see it in her. But her eyes wonât leave him. Her body aches toward him like a magnet and Yunho looks at Hongjoong. âWe need to find the one who cast it.â And far off in the crowd, Drusilla watches them from behind a goblet of wine, smiling like a cat with bloody claws.
Yunhoâs jaw clenches so hard it ticks, eyes still on Y/N, how flushed she is, how tense, how wrong this all feels. His voice comes low, sharp enough to cut steel. âShe said, Drus⊠something.ââ He glances over at Hongjoong, then at Seonghwa. âIt has to be Drusilla. Her little gamesâŠ. always trying to piss me off.â Hongjoongâs gaze darkens instantly. âDrusillaâs here?â
âShe showed up today,â Yunho mutters. He flicks a glance at Mingi, whoâs still struggling to breathe steadily, muscles coiled tight as a drawn bowstring. âShe mustâve whispered Mingiâs name into the damn drink.â Seonghwa exhales sharply. âThen itâs worse than I thought. She didnât just pick a name at random, she targeted them. She knew.â Yunho growls, low and dangerous. âSheâs been away at the Spring Court for months. What the hell does she know about Y/N?â
âEnough to want her gone,â Hongjoong says grimly. âOr humiliated. Or ruined.â
âAnd now sheâs used a spell that forces them together like heat mad animals,â Seonghwa mutters. âShe didnât want to just upset you. She wanted to break something.â Yunhoâs eyes flash. âShe wonât get the chance.â Hongjoong raises a hand to calm him. âFocus. If weâre right and it was Drusilla, then the only one who can fully reverse the binding is her. Lust spells that specific canât just be unraveled with herbs or distance. Weâll need to confront her directly.â Yunho doesnât even hesitate. âThen Iâll find her.â But before he can storm off, Seonghwa steps in his path. âYouâre not thinking clearly. Sheâs baiting you. She wants you pissed off and reckless.â
Yunho growls again, louder this time, and behind him, Y/N lets out a low, soft sound like sheâs trying not to whimper. Her entire body is shaking now, trying to resist the invisible thread pulling her toward Mingi. Mingiâs fists are clenched so hard his knuckles are bone white, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow pants as Hongjoong speaks, voice low. âWe donât have long before the spell takes full hold. If we donât intervene soonâŠâ
âThen theyâll lose all control,â Seonghwa finishes, his gaze flicking to Y/N. The silence hangs thick, and Yunhoâs hands ball into fists at his sides. âI swear,â he mutters, voice like a promise soaked in blood, âwhen I find Drusilla, IâllâŠâ Hongjoong cuts him off. âGet in line.â Then he looks to Seonghwa. âGet her out of here. Try a cooling potion⊠see if you can slow the effects. Iâll handle Drusilla.â Yunhoâs eyes stay locked on Mingi and Y/N. The way theyâre unraveling. The way she leans toward Mingi even as she tries to pull back. âMake it fast,â Yunho says. âBecause if she touches him againâŠâ His voice drops, quiet and furious. âThere wonât be a festival left standing.â Itâs not that Yunho was angry at Mingi. Not that he was jealous, never of MingiâŠ. but her being with one of them couldnât happen like this.
As Seonghwa gently guides Y/N away, one arm around her waist to steady her trembling body, Yunho turns, sharp as a blade unsheathed. âYou. With me.â His voice leaves no room for argument and Mingi doesnât hesitate. He doesnât trust himself near Y/N right now anyway, not when his hands are still shaking from how badly he wanted to drag her into the shadows and give in. Not when the spell still coils through him like fire in his veins. They move fast, cutting through the winding stone behind the festival grounds, slipping past clusters of fae too drunk or too distracted to notice them. Once theyâre deeper into the estate and away from the festival, away from her, Mingi finally stumbles to a halt, bracing both hands on a pillar, head bowed.
âIâŠ.â he gasps. âFuck, Yunho.â
Yunho stops, eyes scanning the dark halls for any sign of movement, but he doesnât press them forward yet. Not when he hears Mingiâs voice crack like that. âI can think a little clearer now that sheâs not around,â Mingi pants, still clenching and unclenching his fists. âBut back there? I couldnâtâŠâ He grits his teeth. âAll I could think about was fucking her. Touching her. Claiming her like she was mine. It wasnât just lust, it felt like something was clawing under my skin. I knew it wasnât me, but it felt like it was.â His voice is hoarse, eyes burning as he finally lifts his head. âI would never touch her like that, not unless she wanted it, not unlessâŠâ He chokes on the rest, fists slamming into the stone pillar. âNot like that.â
Yunho doesnât flinch. He doesnât look angry. Doesnât look jealous. Just steps in front of him, lowering his voice with that firm steadiness only Yunho ever seems to have, even when everything is falling apart. âI know. Iâm not mad,â Yunho says simply and Mingi stares at him, stunned. âItâs you, Mingi. I trust you.â Yunhoâs gaze is unwavering. âIf it were anyone else, I mightâve ripped their throat out back there. But itâs you. And this isnât your fault.â Mingiâs breath hitches. âThe spell was meant to hurt both of you. To hurt me.â Yunhoâs jaw tightens. âDrusilla didnât pick your name at random. She knew. She saw something.â Mingi laughs bitterly. âSaw me trying to pretend I didnât want her?â He presses his lips together, shoulders sagging. âI never meant for it to be like this.â
âI know.â Yunho steps back, looking out at the fae unaware. âBut if we donât stop Drusilla, sheâll try again. Maybe next time it wonât be lust. Maybe next time itâll be something worse.â Thereâs silence between them for a moment as Mingi runs a hand through his hair, finally nodding. âLetâs find her.â Yunho turns, voice low. âAnd when we do?â Mingi grins, a flicker of his usual cocky fire returning beneath the leftover heat of the spell. âI get first bite.â Yunho huffs. âOnly if you leave her standing long enough for my turn.â
The solstice bonfire burned tall, a roaring column of fire that cracked and sparked up into the night sky, casting flickering golds and oranges across the marble courtyard and cloaking the revelers in a fever dream glow. Yunho spotted her across the blaze, Drusilla. Standing alone like sheâd been waiting. He stormed toward her, fists clenched, cutting through dancers and courtiers like a blade through silk. The fire mirrored in his eyes as he stopped just short of her, voice low and venomous. âWhatever the fuck you did to him,â he growled, âundo it.â Drusillaâs lips curled, slow and amused, like a cat watching a cornered mouse. âHim who?â she purred, but her eyes werenât on Yunho.
They slid past him and Yunhoâs spine went rigid. His body turned before his mind even caught up, only to find nothing behind him. Mingi was gone. Panic snapped through his chest like a whip. He spun back to Drusilla, who was now sipping from her glass with leisurely satisfaction, the faintest shimmer of magic still sparkling across her fingertips. She knew. Of course she did. âYou planned this,â Yunho snapped. âDonât act like it wasnât coming,â she sighed dramatically, casting a lazy glance back toward the shadows. âIt was written all over his face, your face. You think no one noticed how you both look at her?â Yunho stepped forward, low and threatening. âIf something happens to themâŠâ
âThe only thing that is going to happen,â Drusilla said sweetly. âIs heâs going to taste her before you do.â Yunhoâs jaw clenched so tight he thought he might break his own teeth. âI whispered his name into a simple little charm,â she said, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. âIs it my fault the spell did exactly what it was meant to do? Or that your little shadow wolf is so very⊠repressed?â Yunhoâs heartbeat thundered in his ears. His gaze cut through the crowd, scanning, searching⊠but Mingi was nowhere to be seen.
Seonghwa led Y/N back to her room she was staying in, windows letting in the silver sliver of moonlight, but it all felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. Too far from him. Mingi. Y/N paced like a caged thing, one hand clutching the goblet Seonghwa had given her. The drink inside shimmered with soft amber tones, laced with calming herbs and a hint of dreamroot. Sheâd barely sipped it. Her skin felt too tight. Her chest too hot. She kept pressing her thighs together, then pulling them apart again, trying not to think of him. His mouth. His voice. His eyes when they found hers across the festival. Her entire body ached and buzzed, and she didnât know how to stop it.
Seonghwa had been gentle, concerned. Heâd promised the others would handle it, said heâd find Wooyoung and send him to stay with her. That it would be alright. But it didnât feel alright. It felt like something inside her was screaming for release. And then a soft knock sounded at her door. NoâŠ. not even a knock. A sound more like a whimper. Y/N froze as it came again, a low, broken sound, followed by a shaky thud against the door. Her heartbeat jumped to her throat as she approached slowly, hand on the handle. âMingi?â she whispered.
Another pained noise. âY/NâŠâ Her breath caught as she opened the door and there he was. Leaning heavily on the frame, his chest rising in fast, shallow breaths, sweat beading at his temples despite the night chill. His shirt was still half unbuttoned, hair wild, eyes glowing the faintest white like an ice storm trying not to erupt out of control. âI canâtâŠâ he rasped. âItâs too much, IâŠ. fuck, Iâm sorryâŠ..â He looked like he was in agony. Like every part of him hurt. And when his eyes finally met hers, her whole body reacted, need slamming into her like a wave. âMingi,â she breathed, stepping back instinctively to let him in, her voice trembling, âwhatâs happening to us?â
His answer was barely more than a whimper. âI donât know. But I need you.â Mingi stumbled inside as the door closed behind him, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. His breath was ragged, every muscle in his body straining like he was trying to hold back a wave threatening to drown him. His eyes flicked toward the small table in the corner, anything to brace himself, to focus, not lose control. He staggered toward it, bracing both hands on the wood. Y/N flinched as a layer of frost burst out beneath his palms, crawling like veins through the wood grain, spiderwebbing across the surface. The goblet Seonghwa had left froze solid, ice crystals racing up its stem as Mingiâs fingers dug into the edge of the table with a growl torn from his throat.
âMingiâŠâ
âI canât stop it,â he panted, eyes wide, glowing brighter now. âI thought if I found you, I could⊠fuck, I canât even thinkâŠ.â His hands shook. Frost spread in a sudden burst down the legs of the table, the air around him growing cold and sharp. But the pain, the ache in her chest, between her legs, deep in her belly, was burning through her faster than any winter chill. And the moment he looked at her, Y/N moved. She crossed the space between them in a blur, her hands gripping his shirt, pulling him down, her mouth crashing to his. Mingi gasped against her lips, surprised for half a second, before he was kissing her back just as desperately. The cold of his skin only made the heat inside her burn hotter as her fingers tangled in his hair as his arms wrapped around her like a vice, pulling her against him. He growled, full, animalistic need, as he hoisted her up against the frozen table, her legs wrapping around his waist as her back hit the wood hard enough to rattle the goblet.
Every second their mouths met made it worse. The spell didnât feel like magic anymore. It felt like hunger. Like years of wanting that had never been spoken aloud, suddenly igniting. Y/N whimpered into his mouth, her hands slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling his abs clench under her touch, Mingi shivering violently from it. âPleaseâŠâ she gasped. âI know,â he growled. âI know. I need you too. Gods, IâŠ. fuck, I need you.â There was no space between them anymore. Just shaking hands, open mouths, fire in their veins, and the sudden shattering of every rule either of them ever thought theyâd follow. And outside, the Solstice bonfires raged.
Yunho didnât knock, he shoved the doors open and hauled Drusilla inside, his fingers wrapped around her upper arm so tightly she winced. Her heels scraped across the marble as she tried to twist away, but Yunho was livid, nearly shaking with fury, dark tendrils wrapping around his ex lover from his fingertips as if his power too wanted to destroy her. Hongjoong looked up from the long table, his eyes narrowing at the sight. âShe dosed Y/N,â Yunho snapped. âLust spell just like we thought.â Drusilla only smiled faintly, brushing her hair back despite the bruising grip on her arm. âI didnât dose anyone. She drank it willingly. I simply whispered a name.â
âBreak it.â Yunhoâs voice dropped to a growl as Hongjoong stood slowly, the air shifting, colder now from authority. âDrusilla,â he said calmly, too calmly. âYouâre going to undo it. Now.â
âAnd why would I do that?â she purred, gaze sliding lazily to Yunho. âHeâs the one with a leash around his neck. I just⊠jiggled it.â Yunhoâs jaw ticked as Hongjoong stepped forward, expression dark. âIf you donât break the spell in the next five seconds, I will rip the ability to speak enchantment from your tongue, do you understand?â Drusillaâs eyes flicked between the two of them, still smug, but now calculating. âFine. Fine. Iâll remove it.â She tilted her head. âIt wonât undo whatâs already happening though.â
In the room, the frost on the table had begun to melt beneath the heat of them as Mingi kissed her like heâd starve without it, his lips greedy against her neck, collarbone, then down, lower, his large hands tracing along her thighs like they were the most sacred thing heâd ever touched. Y/N gasped, her back arching, her fingers threading through his hair as he kissed a path down her chest, then further, teeth grazing, tongue swirling, desperate to taste every inch of her skin. She was trembling under him, but not from the cold. Her dress was already gone, somewhere across the room, discarded in haste. His tunic hung open, his body warm and powerful above her, breath hot against her belly.
âMingiâŠâ she whimpered, breath catching as his mouth pressed lower. âPleaseâŠâ His hands gripped her hips, holding her like he needed the anchor. âYou have no idea,â he murmured, eyes blazing, âhow much I need you.â
Across the palace, Seonghwa found Wooyoung and San near the southern balcony, overlooking the festival crowd. âWoo,â he said breathlessly, already half turned to go, âyou need to go to Y/N. Now.â Wooyoung blinked. âWait, what? Why?â
âY/N. Sheâs not okay. Mingi either. Spell, lust spell.â Seonghwa was already turning back. âGet to her room before she does something sheâll regret.â San stood slowly, brows knitting. âDid he say lust spell?â But Wooyoung was already gone, bolting through the hallway.
Y/N was gasping beneath Mingi now, completely bare, her body flushed and straining, her fingers tangled in his curls as he mouthed at her thighs, her hips, her breasts, everywhere. His voice was low, hoarse as he whispered, âYou taste like everything Iâve ever wanted.â She writhed under him, nails dragging down his back, both of them caught in the web of magic and everything that had been lingering between them. Neither of them hearing the footsteps pounding down the corridor.
Wooyoung didnât bother knocking. He burst into the room like a man on a mission, chest heaving, voice already half formed, âY/N, are you ok? Seonghwa saidâŠâ A sudden blast of frost exploded from Mingiâs hand without him even turning. It hit Wooyoung square in the chest and launched him backward, slamming him into the hallway wall with a thud that shook the nearby sconces. âWell thatâs fucking rude,â Wooyoung groaned, frozen to the floor in a partial ice slick, arms out like heâd just been crucified by winter. âMingi, you dick!â
But Mingi didnât hear. He couldnât. His world had narrowed to the woman in front of him, Y/N, flushed and panting, lips parted, body bare and trembling under his touch. His tunic gone now, his hands gripping her thighs like heâd die if he let go. And he was seconds from falling to his knees. His head dipped lower, breath hot against her slick heat, and Y/N moaned, hand tightening in his hair.
Yunho and Hongjoong stood across from Drusilla as she chanted, her voice curling in ancient Fae, tongue tracing sounds meant for power, for pleasure, for corruption.
âVelaris en fae don arâmiâ Magic shimmered around her lips, a pulse of violet and silver. She gritted her teeth, not from effort, but resentment. Having to undo her own spell? Humiliating. And still, she did it. Because Hongjoong would destroy her if she didnât. With a final word, the magic snapped and Yunho exhaled, felt it break.
Mingi froze. It was like ice cracked in his chest. One second, his mind was molten, desperate, the next, it was clear. His breath hitched. His eyes locked with Y/Nâs, and the haze shattered. She gasped, her hand still in his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, both of them flushed and tangled and nearly gone. Mingiâs voice came out raw, wrecked. âY/N?â
Her lips parted, eyes wide. âWhat⊠the hell justâŠ.â
Mingi stumbled back like heâd been burned, hand covering his mouth, his heart racing too fast to speak. The spell was gone. But everything it exposed? Still there. He burst out of the room like he was on fire. Except it wasnât flame trailing behind him, it was frost, seeping off his shoulders in crackling waves, cheeks flushed, lips red, pupils still too icy. His chest was heaving like heâd just run through the goddamn mountains.
Yunho had barely turned the corner when Mingi nearly collided into him. âMingi?â
âI couldnât stop,â Mingi gasped, voice breaking, his hand gripping Yunhoâs arm like it was the only thing anchoring him. âI tried, YunhoâŠ. I swear⊠I didnât wantâŠ. she touched me and it hurt not toâŠ.â
âHey⊠hey,â Yunho said, voice low, grounding, arms catching him before he could collapse into a panic spiral. He pulled his best friend into a hard hug, a hand behind Mingiâs neck, holding him there. âI know. It wasnât you. That wasnât your fault.â Mingi shook his head against Yunhoâs shoulder, guilt clinging like the cold still radiating from his skin. âI could have hurt herâŠ. I didnât mean toâŠâ
âSheâs okay,â Yunho promised, though he hadnât looked, couldnât bring himself to, not yet. âYouâre okay.â
Wooyoung limped into the hall from where heâd unstuck himself from the wall, hair a mess, shirt half frozen. He blinked at the scene, Yunho steadying Mingi, both of them still raw, rattled and Yunho glanced at him, his voice tight. âTake care of her, please.â
àČ _àČ warning/content: general warnings include: something is wrong with seonghwa, like very wrong, stockholm syndrome, morally grey characters, trauma bonding, trauma collective bonding, lima syndrome, age regression and forced age regression, physical violence
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CANON TIMELINE
Serendipity
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Nothing Fucks With My Baby
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POSTING TIMELINE
Medicine
Losing Dogs
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Ptolemaea
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ALTERNATIVE TIMELINES
Nothing Fucks With My Baby: Uncooperative Baby
NON-LINEAR
Baby-yaâĄïž (a letter from mommy hwa)
Mommy Hwa's Rules (and the subsequent punishments for breaking them...)
Baby Senses
Flowers In Your Hair
Georgia on My Mind
Baby's first morning (and punishment)
SHORTCAKE! (mingi focused drabbles)
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A deep dive into Baby's relationships with the members
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incorrect quotes
âIt's okay, Hwa. I can be your Baby.â
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updated theme what do we think !!!! i love it đđ this series is my all time favorite thing i've ever written and i can't even begin to express how happy i am with the reception it's gotten and all of the discussions i've had with different people over the past few months it's been growing. it's my longest (both word and time wise), and it's my most detailed by farrrr. i'm so thankful i found a place to explore all of the things this series involves in depth, that i get to flesh out all of the characters and their mentalities, their trauma
this series is actually very personal to me not only because of the little community of mommy hwa lovers we've collected but also because i'm an age regressor myself ! and in the fic community, we don't have a lot of representation period. in the DARK fic community ? forget about it brođ it's all age play tagged incorrectly or bad representation of what it's actually like. i wanted an age regressor character that i (and others) could relate to, and that's Baby <3
there's so, so many things i could say about this series but i'll leave it at:
also while iâm here itâs actually so upsetting the treatment jongho gets by the fandom. i get tbyl might not be everyoneâs cup of tea but if everyone who says theyâre a fan watched just once to support would be amazing.
the mv itself is so beautiful and impactful coupled with the song it brings tears to my eyes every time i watch it
âș đżđđđđđđ - king!San x fem!reader â
âș đ¶đđđđ/đ°đ - historical and royalty au, cursed trope, angst, slow burn, tension, San is cold and a bit mean but only in the beginning, magic, generalised dark themes, not-so forced proximity, engagement, sacrifice, power imbalance, San got so darn sweet here it was driving me insane, downbad!San (stand up, my guy) â
âș đđđđđđ/đđđđđđđ - PG-18+ so MDNI!!! vomiting (San was unwell), slight mentions of blood (from injuries) , kinky smut, possessive!San, making out, nipple play, exhibitionism, pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, cum on mouth and face, cum play, choking on cum, standing up sex, cowgirl, missionary, breeding kink, clothed sex, dacryphilia, degradation, marking kink, slight sadism and masochism (just squint), creampie, unprotected sex, (DO NOT DO THIS) â
âș đđđđ đČđđđđ - 30.8K words (sorry Topaz) â
âș đđąđđđđđđ - San ruled a kingdom buried in snow, rumoured to be cursed, where people cannot leave once entered. The snow was harsh, unforgiving, never melted, and it only took but never gave. He was cursed king with a cursed land, and you were engaged to him not out of love, but to steady the crown that nobody respected due to fear. He treated you with coldness and formality, reinforcing the rumours that he was incapable of warmth, let alone affection. But as the truth of the curse unraveled, so did your understanding of the man you were meant to marry, and now one question remained - is San the cursed one or was he the one who cursed the land? â
âș đœđđđđ - This is my submission for the KSS Frost & Fire Exchange event for @sanjoongie (surprise!) who made that beautiful moodboard and wrote me a fic in return. I really tried my best here and I'm sorry it got so long, your moodboard looked a little too good to not have crazy plot in there. I genuinely hope you like this, I'm actually terrified ah.â
âș đđđđđđđ - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @mallielovssyou @jenluvzen @lovebuggjoy @mingiblossoms @crybabydollette @mustardmilkshake @asesinas @minyunsan-kitten â
He was a king with a crown of gnarled bones.
At least, thatâs what they all said. An eye isnât an eye because you look at it -Â itâs an eye because it looks back at you and we donât see things as they are; we see them as we are.
âWhat of the other kingdoms?â His voice traversed the vast hall, echoing against the stone walls of the Great Halls. He was impassive, nonchalant, but make no mistake, for his presence blanketed the entire expanse of the room.
You stood obediently off to the far side of his throne, almost unseen, but there nonetheless, just patiently waiting until the meeting was done. It was hard not to stare at the enigma that was Choi San. It wasnât that he called for everyoneâs attention just because he was the king, rather, he demanded it.Â
He didnât need it either. He just had it. Even a sliver of his shadow had everyoneâs attention. Hell, even his footsteps sounded different from the rest. San wasnât domineering nor commanding because he wore a crown. He was dominant because the air bent around for him.
âWord travels fast, my liege. I reckon itâs already reached the kingdoms up north like that of Wonderland and Horizon,â Park Seonghwa reported, reverence in his tone as he addressed his King. âI could send the troops to check out their militia and perhaps where their loyalties lie.â
Your eyes momentarily fleeted towards Seonghwa. The High Marshal was an honourable and proper leader, a skilled military man who led the kingdomâs armies in multiple battles and wars not many have had the guts to, and you knew he had Sanâs utmost respect. As if sensing eyes on him, he briefly met eyes with you, smiling in courtesy, before training them at San once more.
âNo need,â San droned, raising one hand, halting motion that meant to stop even your inner thoughts. Such was the power he wielded. âThe risk is too high for so little reward.â
He paused, tilting his head to the side, looking out the large window that overlooked the vast majority of the castlegrounds that were covered in nothing but thick snow. Melancholy was clear in his eyes, though he tried to cover it up with something steely.
He stood up from his throne slowly, deliberately as his eyes scanned the entirety of the room, leaving no space from anyone to breathe under his suffocating gaze. His fur-lined cloak that draped over his shoulders shifted with him, following his every movement as he began to walk off, the finality of his steps leaving no room for anyone to argue with him.
âRest up, Seonghwa,â he said, the words low but echoing, as if the castle itself carried his voice forward for him. âThe troops as well. Youâve done me well.â
Seonghwa blinked before inhaling sharply. He trudged forward, brows furrowed. âYour Graceââ
âI said,â San murmured, barely audible, but it was there. Everyone heard it, and the air shifted into something sharp as his voice tilted into a quiet warning. âRest up.â
You gritted your teeth, composing yourself to stop the shiver that threatened to travel up your spine. ThisâŠyou will never get used to this - to him. His words drifted through the Great Halls and they held weight enough to crush whatever protest Seonghwa thought he could muster.
San continued forward, not bothering to look back as his footsteps got closer and closer until he was almost in front of you. Immediately, you bowed, bunching your dress up in your fists as you lowered your head slightly.Â
One would expect that as the kingâs betrothed that heâd give you the same curtsy, or at least acknowledge you, but the way he completely ignored your existence was what you got. You were used to it. You had anticipated it, even. What a pity on your end, really.
As San passed you to walk away, his eyes briefly met yours, and by God, were they cold and indifferent. His gaze was earth-dark, not empty and not grounding, like land that dried up anything that grew on it.
What you werenât expecting, however, was for him to stop halfway to address you. You tensed, this has never happened before. You tried to hold eye contact, but couldnât. You couldnât stand the way he stared at you because it always made you flinch. It was dark and dangerous.
âWhat are you doing here?â San questioned tersely, voice carrying a hint of irritation he tried to hide with courtesy. âWhereâs Hongjoong?â
Hongjoong was your guard. âYour Majesty,â you mumbled through the intimidation. âForgive my impudence. I was merely wondering if I could invite you for a cup of teaââ
âAnswer my question,â he interrrupted, cutting you off cleanly like a blade that just hit fresh grass. His eyes were narrowed, unblinking and unyielding.
âMy King,â Choi Jongho, the Kingâs royal advisor, whispered subtly. âPerhaps we ought to calm down, the people are looking our wayââ
San lifted one finger, effectively silencing his own advisor with a subtle threat that carried the promise of ruin as if heâd already planned his end if he let one more word out. All while his eyes were still on you. âHongjoong,â he repeated. âWhere is he?â
You swallowed, your tongue suddenly heavy. âHongjoong didnât need to accompany me,â you said carefully. âI was on my way to see you, Your Majesty, so I dismissed him.â
San stilled, and so did you. He wasnât pleased with your answer, but he didnât look the least surprised by it. In fact, he didnât even care. âI see,â was all he said, and the way he uttered it sounded more like an afterthought rather than an acknowledgement.
Then, he started walking past you again. It wasnât dramatic, he had just already decided you were not worth another second of his attention. You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to bow to him once more as heat and shame traveled to your face at his blatant dismissal of you.
It wasnât because you feared him. You stopped fearing him a long time ago, and if you were being honest, you never had any reason to fear him or be intimidated by him to begin with simply because he barely acknowledged your presence, anyway.Â
âDo not loiter around the Great Halls,â he spoke, cold and uncaring. âNext time, send a message if you have something you wish to tell me. You serve no purpose being idle around here.â
You were used to his disdain he reserved solely for you, but still, that stung more than you let on. It was the way he said it, too, that made you feel worse. It was meant to haunt your thoughts, the kind that followed you even after he was gone.Â
You stood there, hands clasped, head bowed, letting the echo of his footsteps fade down the corridor. You felt a hand to your shoulder and it was Jongho. He gave you a tight-lipped smile that was meant to comfort you, squeezing your shoulder once as his eyes shone with that familiar pity that everyone also gave you when the king talked down on you like he always did.
âDonât take it to heart,â he said with a small sigh, eyes on the corridor that San had turned. âHeâsâŠitâs not like that, he didnât mean it like that.â
You hummed, nodding out of courtesy. âI suppose,â you mumbled, barely audible. âJust like the tens of thousands of times heâs done it.â
Because you did try, you always did. You tried doing your part to get along with the man you were going to spend your earthly years with in this castle, and you had hoped foolishly that he'd meet you halfway all the time, but all youâve been getting was contempt. Mingi stayed silent, for even he cannot deny that you were right.
âLet me accompany you to your chambers, my lady,â he kindly offered. âSupper will commence shortly. I would suppose youâd like to rest for a bit before then.â
âThere is no need,â you mumbled quietly, smiling softly. âI can find my way back. And Iâm going to have to decline supper for tonight, my appetite has gone away. Would you be so kind to send our dear chef my regards? Yeosangâs food is always splendid, just not tonight, Iâm afraid.â
Jongho frowned, hesitant, before sighing. âAs you wish, my lady. I bid you a good night.â
You curtsied quickly, turning the other direction to walk away. However, instead of going to your chambers, you chose to turn to another hallway, opting to take a walk to clear your head and your muddled thoughts.
The massive window at the end of the corridors always fascinated you. It was where you went when you had to think and today was no exception. You glanced outside, watching as endless snow fell from the sky. The hallways felt colder to you. San felt colder. Much colder.
A couple of months ago, you wouldnât even dare dream stepping inside a palace, much less the one that San ruled. You still remember the first time you arrived and the first time you laid eyes on the man you were about to wed, but always put a wall in between you.
Poverty and famine had struck the lands where you were born and raised. You were used to it - born into it - but at least there was once a time where you lived on a quaint farm with your parents. But alas, famine chooses no one. It takes and takes, and your parents were no exception to that fate.
And you tried to sustain the farm, tried your very best to make the best of yourself under the dire circumstances you were handed, but it wasnât enough. Drought had struck the land, crops died, and plague had seemingly struck what little poultry and bovine you raised. It was painful, but you had to leave your farm and village all together. You werenât going to die along with it.
It wasnât easy; none of it was. You had just lost both of your parents and your hometown all in the span of a month and you were a lone traveling girl looking for the next best thing without falling prey to thieves and vagabonds looking for their next victim.
But there was only so much you can take. Food was scarce, begging wasnât an option any longer, and the streets werenât the most conducive place to sleep most nights. Winter was coming and the chills werenât helping your sore feet and empty stomach.Â
Giving up wasnât so terrible back then because at least, you could tell your maker that you had at least tried to survive - that you were a fighter who was just given a bad hand in life.
If you were going to perish from fatigue and hunger, though, you at least wanted to go where the air wasnât thick with grief and suffering. If this was the end, you wanted it to be somewhere that at least looked like peace, even if youâd never quite managed to feel it.
And then, you remembered that there was a nearby kingdom that was rumoured to be surrounded with so much snow, it was impossible to see through it. Youâve never seen snow before. With your remaining money, you bought a horse and settled for the journey onto this unknown kingdom.Â
âJust a moment,â the man you bought the horse from stopped you just as you were about to leave. âWhere did you say you were going again?â
You hesitated, not because you were keeping your journey a secret, but the look in this manâs face seemed to tell you that he knew and was just confirming if he heard you right. âThat kingdom thatâs nearby here,â you finally answered. âThe one in the snow.â
His eyes widened in shock before they drooped with something akin to alarm and trepidation all at once. âOh, dear child, must you go? Are you not privy to the curse that lay in that land?â
The Kingdom of Utopia, but nobody called it that; they say that if you utter even the kingdomâs name, then the curse that befell there would be placed upon you. Such a beautiful name for a place no one can speak out loud.
Such a contradictory name for something that was anything but utopia.
Because the snow never melted. Not in the summer, not under the brightest suns. Snow covered the entire expanse of the land and it made inhabiting it near impossible. Some believed that the snow swallowed flames, and some believed the kingdom had been punished by the heavens themselves. No one knew the truth, and no one dared to go and find out.
âIf that is the case,â you wondered out loud as you loaded what little of your belongings on your newly purchased horse. âThen why donât the people just leave if it was so cursed?â
âBecause they canât,â the man answered, shivering slightly, though not because of the breeze that passed. âOnce you get in, there is no way out. The snow is so thick and harsh that your soul would be gone from your body way before your foot can even attempt to step out. The people are trapped in there, my dear. I suggest traveling somewhere else.â
You were startled out of your memories when you heard a cough behind you. You turned around, expecting to find a servant who was wondering what the future queen was doing loitering around the halls, but you sighed in relief when you saw who it was instead.
âI knew Iâd find you here,â Wooyoung chuckled, bowing his head slightly in curtsy. âSir Hongjoong was a tad bit worried when you didn't come back to your chambers, my lady.â
You smiled in fondness. âI just wanted a bit of space, is all,â you said with a small shrug. âI needed time to think about certain things.â
A certain someone, you didnât want to say, but Wooyoung already knew. His smile dropped slightly, eyes shining with sadness only you knew what for. âI know youâve heard this all before,â he began. âBut you have to extend a bit of understanding towards His Majesty. HeâsâŠbeen through a lot, my lady. I implore you to forgive him.â
âI am far from angry at him,â you softly replied with a sigh. âIâŠjust wish heâd drop his walls with me once in a while. It was my fault, I was the one who bothered him.â
âNonsense, my lady,â Wooyoung quickly spoke, shaking his head vigorously. âYou are his betrothed, you are allowed to bother him. Worry not, itâll get better in time.â He extends a hand to you. âShall I escort you back to your chambers, then?â
You nodded, putting your hand on top of his. Everyone always rushed to defend San whenever events like earlier happen, and you get it, Utopia did have its reputation and rumours after all.
But thatâs all there was to it - rumours. Tales that are passed through taverns and alleyways to spook or entertain a wandering traveler. It wasnât to frighten you. Youâve experienced the true horrors of what an actual curse is, and it took away everything you loved and held dear.
These were the thoughts that you couldnât help but think the entire time Wooyoung led you to your room; your journey where it all began and why sometimes, you couldnât even be mad at San whenever he deliberately dismissed you.
The entire journey, you were beginning to doubt everything. The biting chill of the snowstorm that hit your skin was almost painful . Youâd think that the cold wouldâve numbed you by now, but no. The more you traversed the land and the nearer you got, the more prickling it felt. It was like the snow was slowly sloughing your skin off until it reached your bones.
The kingdom was near enough where you didnât have to stop and camp, but it was too late to go back by then. Grief and stubbornness lead you to where you were, knee deep in so much snow, your poor horse had a hard time crossing through it. Your fingers throbbed, your jaw ached, and your eyes watered from the sting of air that wished to carve itself into you.
Maybe they were right, because this was no ordinary weather - this was the land, itself, warning you. Coldness like this was meant to resent anybody that dared challenge it, and you were the fool who looked it in the eye and took it, anyway.
By a long shot of miracle, somehow, you managed to make it, though you were barely hanging on to the fact that you at least wanted to see if you could find a place for your horse to stay. It was your fault that it was put in this situation anyway. If not for your foolishness, it would have still been in another kingdom where it was warmer.
You were falling apart, you could tell, your senses were beginning to dull, and your already weakened state wasnât helping at all. You found an empty alleyway, and the moment you hit the wall, your knees gave out, puffs of visible breath leaving out your mouth.
This was the end, you could feel it. You took this time to actually look at your surroundings now that youâre not moving. It was hard to regret it now that youâre here. Snow was beautiful, there was no other way to describe it. The texture of it felt funny in your hand, too. You were expecting it to feel fluffier. Still, it didnât diminish its beauty and you didnât mind.
You could see the castle walls from where you slumped, the pale outline of it through the white haze, where it housed the darker side of the rumours youâve been told right before you traveled.
It was the king. Choi San. He was the centre of the rumours right where it all began, the very reason why they say Utopia was cursed. Some say that he was a demon who brought on the snow to isolate his kingdom. Most believed that the land that the castle was built upon was sacred and that the Choi clan did not heed the warnings and sent this was the punishment - that the snow itself was the everlasting famine destined to freeze everyone in it.
But the cruelest rumour of them all was that San, himself, might have been the source of the curse. People say that he sold his soul for eternal youth and immense power so long as the kingdom around him froze.Â
You didnât care, not anymore. All you wanted was to see something pretty before you went and this was more than enough for you. âGo on, pretty girl,â you whispered back then, patting the horse and encouraging it to find shelter. âYou donât belong out here. Go before you freeze.â
You shivered, feeling the cold even in your memories as Wooyoung opened the door for you with the practiced elegance of someone born to serve royalty. He helped you unfasten the heavier layers of your gown, and laid out your nightgown with gentle efficiency.
He turned away as you changed, always respectful and always giving you space, and when you slipped beneath the thick fur-lined blankets, he moved around the room to tidy what the maids had missed.
You watched him idly, noticing the flowers he was fixing in the embellished vase on your nightstand. Winter heathers. You knew of them from the occasional winters that hit your old village, the soft lilac bells that bloomed in spite of the frost that covered them and survived.
Something in the sight of them warmed you. This was one of the few things that made this cold kingdom bearable - there was always a different arrangement of flowers each night that Wooyoung fixed for you. âThank you,â you murmured, smiling. âTheyâre beautiful.â
Wooyoung stilled for a heartbeat before offering you a soft smile. âI only arrange them, my lady,â he said lightly, brushing a petal with the tip of his finger. âI do not choose them.â
You lifted your gaze toward him, curiosity sparking. âRest well, my lady,â he dipped into a graceful bow, opening the door to depart. âTomorrow will be a long day.â
You lay still, the soft weight of the blankets warming skin that had once been thinned by cold wind and hunger. It was strange to experience all the good things that life was now offering you. Back then, you were ready to close your eyes for the last time; content with surrendering because fighting had simply become exhausting.
But fate, as always, had a way of intervening before you took even one more step toward surrender. You remembered watching as the horse trotted away. Satisfied, you tried to close your eyes, but you were confused when you saw a figure standing where your horse was.
And you were even more confused when they started bundling you up with multiple layers of clothing that felt heavy on your tired body, like the luxurious blankets covering you right now. It wasnât enough to stop your teeth from chattering, but it was enough to keep you at bay for now.
âYouâre not supposed to be out here. Youâre almost at deathâs door,â they mumbled, tucking the thick wool coat snugly on your body, sympathy lining their voice. âWhere is your home? I will take you there. The storm is about to turn into a blizzard soon.â
You peeled your eyes open, realising that the person talking to you was a man. He was tall, decently good-looking, with eyes that naturally radiated tenderness as he stared at your pitiful form. And even in your state, you could sense that he was no ordinary man.Â
âA mage. Who wouldâve thought?â You laughed to yourself feebly, staring into his surprised eyes. âAnd Iâve no home. I am but a wandering traveler who has given up on life.â
He paused, pity in his eyes that observed your face for any signs of jest and deceit. He sighed deeply, dropping down to a squat to meet your gaze. âThough I am curious as to why youâd choose to be in our lands, it doesnât have to be like that. I can help you.â
You hummed, shaking your head. âIâm going to have to decline, kind Sir,â you sincerely declined. âIf you want to help, maybe help my horse. I would hate for her to freeze in your lands.â
It was then where his face completely fell into utter despair at your words. He took his fur-lined head covering, gently putting it on you. Your heartstrings tugged seeing this random strangerâs act of kindness towards someone like you.
âOh, you poor child,â he clicked his tongue, pursing his lips, his calculating eyes turning just a tad bit sharper. âEven in dire circumstances, you care about an animal rather than yourself. Youâre something special. Iâll help your horse if you let me help you.â
âWhatâs the catch?â
He tilted his head, a soft smile spreading across his lips. âSmart girl,â he chuckled. âI have a proposition for you. We are desperate for help, you see, and I believe youâre the perfect person for it.â
He gets up, dusting the snow that had begun to line his pants, offering his hand to you. âJust know that even if you say no, I will still help you find food and shelter. Contrary to what the outsiders sayâŠweâre not heartless monsters. How far would you go?â
You stared at his outstretched hand. Your heart was divided. This man didnât give off any malicious aura and something deep in you told you to walk into the light he was offering. âAnything,â you said. âYouâre asking a person who has nothing and everything to lose.â
His brows lifted with respect, a flicker of impressed astonishment softened the sharpness of his gaze. âAnything?â He repeated, quieter this time.Â
You nodded once. âAnything,â you confirmed. âWhy me?â
His expression warmed, the corners of his mouth lifting with a kind of earnest admiration. âWhen I touched you earlier, I saw a small glimpse of your past,â he said, his eyes glowing unnaturally golden and fiery that it felt like looking straight into the flames of the sun, surprising you. âYouâve lost everything, yet you still chose to fight. That tells me everything I need to know about you.â
He extended his hand a little nearer. âOne condition,â you said, taking his hand without hesitation. âWhat might be the name of the mage who decided to help a poor soul like mine?â
âYou may call me Yunho,â his smile deepened with a touch of relief as he wrapped his bigger hand around yours, warmth instantly flooding your body. âNow, shall we change your fate?â
After a warm meal and even warmer clothes, you were all set. What you didnât expect was for Yunho to take you inside the castle, leading you directly where you knew the ruler of the land would be. You stiffened and Yunho took great notice of this.
âI know this might be surprising, but I promise you, no harm will come to you. Not while Iâm here,â he gently explained. âAnd I know that the rumours about My Majesty don't really help, but please believe me, none of them hold any merit. Heâs not like that.â
But you didnât have time to think about it, because Yunho was already opening the ornate doors of the throne room, his hand on your lower back as he led you inside. You wanted to ogle at the glory and beauty of the room, but your world stilled at the sight before you.
San.
He was seated upon his throne, looking every bit the ruler whispered about in fearful legends. The way he sat - still and predatory - gave the unsettling impression that he saw far more than what lay before him. His throne was illuminated with torches, yet somehow, he shone far more.
Your breath caught in your throat, not with fear, but with awe. He was enormous, both physically and imposingly so, his broad shoulders wrapped with wool and fur that was so white, it looked like he made it out of the very snow that covered his entire kingdom. His long legs were crossed, one elbow leaned on the armrest, a finger to his temple as he stared on.
He didnât move, didnât even blink nor shift his posture when you and Yunho entered. And he was unfairly handsome. With his sculpted jaw and high cheekbones that complimented the way his raven hair was pulled away from his face, he was the epitome of royalty. And his eyes - God, those eyes - they were dark and unreadable.
It was then that it hit you - you thought that storm outside was cold, but it was nothing compared to the man sitting before you.Â
âJeong Yunho,â he said, his voice monotonous yet a lot more melodious than you thought. Such a juxtaposition, it was difficult to explain. âWhat is the meaning of this?â
He gazed at you once, but didnât bother to greet nor acknowledge you, and you were completely fine with that. You didnât know how youâd respond. Yunho bowed his head slightly. âI believe I have found the solution to our plight, San,â he gestures to you. âThis is Y/N, she will help us.â
You raised a brow not only at the lack of title when Yunho referred to San but also at the mention of your name you knew for a fact you didnât tell him. Silence enveloped the room before San spoke again. âShe is not of this land,â he scrutinised flatly. âWhy should she?â
The air tightened around you. You had no idea how he knew you werenât from here. San uncrossed his legs, the gesture itself regal in all its glory, placing both his elbows on his knees before leaning forward. âDoes she even know,â he continued, his gaze lingering on you for another second still devoid of warmth. âWhat sheâs helping for, Yunho?â
He wasnât challenging you, nor was he doubting you. He simply found your presence illogical and out of place, like you werenât even supposed to be entertaining any of this. You fisted your dress, side-eyeing Yunho with nervousness because the king wasnât wrong - you actually had no idea what you were doing here. God, you were such an idiot.
But what made it worse was San's indifference. You werenât the only one surprised - he was too, it seemed. You werenât the only one whoâs given up every possibility out there.
Because San needed a bride, a queen to rule beside him. Not out of romance or even lineage, but more for desperation and legitimacy. San sat on the throne, yes, but he was but a king in title only. No other kingdoms wanted to acknowledge a king and a kingdom without a queen.
It was an ancient law older than the snow that blanketed the land, and the surrounding nations used that as justification to dismiss Utopia entirely, and used Sanâs half-recognised reign as a shield to reject him. They needed allies, an alliance, treaties, aid when the need arose, trade routes to sustain the people and their living - and they needed a queen to make it happen.
Yunho knew this. Everyone in the castle knew this. And it wasnât like they didnât try, because they did. They searched high and low both in and out of the kingdom and even the country as a whole just for that missing key to make San completely legitimate.
The problem lay in Sanâs complete isolation and rumoured reign. Princesses from neighbouring countries outright rejected the offer, noble daughters chose to flee to distant relatives, even regular people of foreign countries didnât bother with a reply, and they all said the same thing - no one wanted to associate themselves with the cursed king and his frozen kingdom.
But there was one type of cruelty that cut deeper than the rest, because even the people of Utopia refused to marry him. Not the nobles, not the merchants, not the commoners. They simply didnât want to share the fate of a king rumoured to be the heart of the snow.
And you - you who had simply wanted to find a beautiful resting place - you were never meant to be an option. Yet, here you were, standing before a king whose crown was true and real, but whose authority was hollow without any respect.
âYou will be taken care of, treated fair and just with all the respect you deserve to have,â Yunho calmly explained albeit the hidden desperation that lined his eyes. âPlease, Y/N, we really need your help. The lack of allies will always pose a danger to our people and the snowâŠour food supply can only rotate so much because we have no functioning farms.â
You bit your lip, thinking. Hours ago, you had completely resigned to your fate and now, you were being offered a second chance in life you would have completely leapt at had it been given to you weeks prior. It wasnât even because you were chosen, it was because you were the only one who stepped willingly into the snow when everyone else fled from it.
But, at what cost and to what extent? On one hand, you meant what you said earlier - you had absolutely nothing to lose, but this time, you had everything to gain. But at the same time, you were about to bind yourself to a king nobody wanted to associate themselves with.
You lifted your eyes to look at the said king, almost jumping out of your skin when you saw that he was already staring back at you. He wasnât glaring. He wasnât even particularly expressive. He was simply looking; assessing and measuring something only he understood.
Though the intensity of it spiked anxiety in you, you found it fascinating. He was being handed the solution to his problems as a king on a silver platter and yet, he wasnât the least bothered by it. Like he had truly given up and didnât care for what was to come anymore. Exactly like you.
Your spine straightened before you even realized it. âAlright,â you whispered. âIâll do it.â
Relief washed over Yunhoâs features so strongly he almost looked emotional. âThank you,â he breathed out, grabbing your hands. âThank you so much, Y/N. You have no idea how much this means to us and the people of Utopia. We will be forever in your debt.â
He turned to San, practically pleading for approval with his eyes, but the latter didnât move. He didnât even look like he was breathing - he just stared at you. Â
And stared. And stared some more. He stared at you so long that the air completely became awkward and your legs actually started to ache from how long you were stared at. He stared at you long after the sun had started to sink into the horizon. It was long enough that Yunho started to fidget uncomfortably, letting out an uncomfortable laugh to break the silence. âUhm, Sanââ
âSilence,â San muttered. It wasnât even loud. In fact, he said it so flatly that it was almost astounding. âIâm thinking.â
You tried to swallow down the uncomfortable knot forming in your throat. You had no idea what he was thinking about, or why it took so long, or what he saw when he looked at you. But eventually, after one final, unreadable sweep of his eyes over you, San spoke.
âOnce you stay here,â he said. âYou can never leave. Literally. The snow will prevent you. Are you sure you want to surrender yourself to me?â
To me. The way he said it made your pulse spike. He wasnât threatening you, by all means - in fact, it even sounds like he was giving you a way out. He simply stated it as an inevitable truth, as if stepping into his world meant stepping into his possession by default. You were about to belong to him, body and soul, and something about that made your insides feel hot and heavy.
âDoes this mean Iâll never see what lies outside this kingdom anymore?â You asked, throat dry.
Sanâs eyes clouded with the first emotion youâve seen in him ever since meeting him - hesitance, and dare you say, perhaps a little of hope somewhere in there. But, it only lasted for a second before his eyes flashed back to that indifference.Â
âYou wonât survive it,â he said plainly, turning his head a little to stare at the never-ending snow that fell from the darkening sky. âNo one does, and believe me, people have tried.â
Your chest tightened at the insinuation. The people have tried to flee and fail. Still, you have made up your mind. âI am willing.â
He leaned back on his seat, face unreadable, before settling into that stance where he was staring at you again. And after a terrifying heartbeat, he nods stiffly. âVery well,â was he all said before you were dismissed.
And true to his words, you were welcomed. Quite warmly, if you may say so, compared to the harsh winters that the kingdom enveloped you in. You were treated fairly like you belonged here, just as Yunho had said, given your own chambers and even your own personal attendant, Jung Wooyoung - a male since unfortunately, not one family wanted to send their daughters to even work in the palace, but that's alright for you. You loved Wooyoung, and he loved you.
You were even assigned a personal guard, Kim Hongjoong, a valiant man who had sworn his life serving you. A good man, a genuinely good one. A feast was held in your name, of the woman who had finally agreed to marry into the frozen kingdom. The chef, Kang Yeosang, personally made sure to serve your favourite dishes, which you appreciated.Â
Indeed, you were treated like a future queen. Or the woman destined to be cursed with the one and only Choi San.
He was a king with a crown of gnarled bones. The irony of it all lay in what everybody believed in, because we donât see things as they are; we see them as we are. San wore a crown, but he was no king in his peopleâs eyes.
Except for his closest confidants and the ones who lived in the palace, the people who saw San saw differently. They followed but you can see the fear in their eyes. They have been so conditioned to believe that the reason the snow never stopped and why they can never leave was because of their own king, and thatâs what they choose to see.
And as for San, you barely saw him, never really spending time with him other than talking about diplomacy and Utopiaâs upcoming legitimacy as a kingdom. There were no gentle introductions and no attempts at familiarity with one another.
San never sought you out for anything beyond what was politically required. Every meeting he held with you was purposeful, efficient, and centered only on matters of state, and every time he did talk, he never really did look you in the eye, voice always teetering on that formal and clipped tone as if you were nothing more than an ally - which in hindsight, you were.
âYou may do the wedding planning in whatever way you wish, including the theme if that pleases you,â San explained one afternoon, hands clasped behind his back as he stood near a window. âI do not expect you to be the perfect queen right on the get go, and that is fine.â
He stated it like a transaction, not a life-altering commitment. âYes, Your Highness,â you mumbled, discomfort crawling under your skin at how stiff this entire exchange was.
Another time, he spoke to you about Utopiaâs fragile diplomatic standing. âYou will help stabilize the kingdom by simply existing by my side,â he said without malice, just pointedly, eyes on political letters heâs yet to send. He slides one to you, handing you a quill. âSign this.â
You swallowed, grabbing the quill from his hand, freezing right after. Usually, heâd go back to whatever he was doing after making you do something politically inclined. That and he always kept you at a careful and deliberate distance every time, anyway.Â
However, this time, you took such a long time doing what he told you to do that he paused, gazing up at you with those sharp eyes. âIs there something the matter?â He asked, tone courteous and polite, but hollow and impersonal. âSomething not to your liking?â
You avoided eye contact, not out of fear, but of shame, cheeks reddening against your will. âThatâs not it, Your Majesty,â you mumbled, embarrassed. âI-Iâm afraid Iâve forgotten how to write. I never had the opportunity to practice. My parents needed help with our farm back then.â
There was something so incredibly embarrassing and belittling about admitting your illiteracy in general, let alone in front of somebody as articulate and well-spoken as San. You sighed, rolling on your bed, the shame still fresh in your memory. It was a stark reminder of who you really were before Yunho found you in that alleyway - a peasant who struck gold.
San did not respond at first, only staring at you, arms crossing over his chest, shoulders sinking back into his chair. Then, he turns his head slightly to his left, to Jongho who you forgot was with you back then. âCall Mingi,â he instructed flatly. âEffective immediately.â
Jongho comes back with another man in tow, someone youâve seen with San once in a while during his meetings. San gestured vaguely in your direction. âI have a task for you,â he said. âTeach her basic literacy, and teach her well. Include the laws of the land if you must and other foundational studies.â
It was said so bluntly that you felt heat rush up your neck. But it wasnât his tone that bothered you the most, it was the way he spoke as if you werenât even in the room, as though you werenât standing right there. Then he added, âA queen must at least be able to sign her own name.â
You gritted your teeth, reaching over to touch the winter heathers on your nightstand gently to forget how San made that sound so harsh. âYou are dismissed,â he ordered, flicking his fingers at you, already turning back to his documents, already forgetting the sting he didnât even know he imparted at you.
You followed Mingi out into the hall, quiet and a little stiff. âDonât take it to heart, my lady,â he murmured with sympathy as he guided you down the corridor. âHis Majesty has a way with words that makes everything sound harsher than they actually are.â
You let out a breathy, embarrassed laugh. âI noticed.â
âHe doesnât mean anything by it,â Mingi continued gently. âHe simply didnât know how to soften his wordsâŠespecially around you. That doesnât mean he sees you as lesser.â
That, you believed in. You still do. You didnât take it personally then, and you still didnât take it personally now. You couldnât because he was right - this was simply how San was. However, one thing he never did, no matter how standoffish he was, was belittle you.
San was the type of man who matched your pace but kept a respectful gap, enough that your sleeves never brushed whenever you walked beside him, always keeping you at armâs length.
There were times where Yunho would try to leave you alone with him to build rapport, but San would just squint his eyes as if he had just been told something so insulting. âUnnecessary,â he would dismiss with a cold edge that cut deep. âNo need to deceive ourselves into thinking this union would be more than anything but political. I have better things to do.â
He was brash, that much was true. And yet, despite all that, he never treated you poorly. He never raised his voice, never belittled your inexperience or mocked your illiteracy and never crossed any boundary you hadnât explicitly offered.
None of this was meant to be romantic, and you reminded yourself of that often. Still, there were moments where his distance stung in ways you hadnât prepared for. As cold as the kingdom was, there was something even colder about being wanted only for what you could fix.
You sighed, blowing out the candles plunging the room into darkness, the soft scent of winter heather relaxing your senses as you sank deeper into the pillows, your thoughts drifting away as your eyes started to slowly close.
You tried your best to fit in, but sometimes, it was hard to offer warmth to a man who was determined to stay frozen.
You supposed that Wooyoung mentioned that tomorrow was going to be a long day, because he was absolutely right in that regard.
You had made up your mind to stay and read in your chambers all day, but imagine your surprise when Jongho delivered a letter to you, the surprise growing bigger when you realised that San personally wrote it, almost passing out in ultimate shock when you read it and saw that San was inviting you for supper.
There you were, not knowing how to fully react as you sat at the end of the long table directly across San, who sat on the other end. Youâve never had a meal with San alone. Meals usually composed of you along with other nobles to discuss politics and diplomacy issues regarding the kingdom, but never like this.
You cleared your throat. âYour Majesty.â
His gaze lifted, sharp and immediate, like he had been waiting for you to speak all along. âYes?â
You faltered, already shrinking under the weight of his gaze on you. âI would like to thank you for your generosity,â you said, sounding small in the vast dining hall. âI wasnât expecting a summon, is all.â
San set down his silverware. He didnât seem offended, it was more like he was choosing what not to say. âShould I assume,â he began, tone neutral, yet biting. âThat a simple supper with me is too much to ask of you?â
Visible shock fills your features, your eyes widening slightly before controlling them just like Wooyoung and Mingi had taught you. âThat is not what I mean, Your Grace,â you tried to explain, but he didnât relent.
âWe are to be bound together soon,â he huffed, not softening a bit. âI would like to reduce the unfamiliarity at least even though this is nothing out of necessity. Nothing more.â
Your chest tightened at the bluntness, at the clinical way he spoke his words. Everyoneâs words suddenly echoed in your head - that San never intended cruelty, that he simply spoke sharply naturally, but sometimes, it was difficult to grasp. It was difficult to not let the words sting you.
A sigh left your lips, picking up your fork to resume eating. But before you could do so, you saw him pick up a plate that was in front of him, and with a flick of his wrist that was far too sharp to be gentle, pushed it towards you. It stopped directly in front of you and all you could do was stare at it confused before you lifted your gaze towards him.
âWell?â San raised a brow as if daring you to waste his time by not moving. âThe food isnât going to serve itself. Eat.â
You stiffened. The sentence sounded harsh, unnecessarily so, and it was so him. But then, so quietly you almost missed it, you heard him mumble under his breath, âThe fish is still warm. I am sure it will please you.â
He didnât look at you after saying it. He simply resumed eating while all you could do was stare at him, not knowing exactly what to feel. Hesitant, you took a piece of the fish, not expecting much, but the moment it touched your tongue, your breath stilled.
Because it was perfect. You didnât mean it was perfectly seasoned or cooked, but because it was cooked and tasted exactly the way it was made back in your village before disaster struck. You never thought youâd ever experience this again and you didnât know what to make of it.
A strange, aching warmth bloomed in your chest, so vivid you almost forgot where you were and who you were with. âHow? This isâŠâ you trailed off before you could stop yourself. Home, your mind automatically supplied, this tasted like home.
You gazed back at him, heart leaping when you saw he was already staring at you. His lips were pressed into a thin line, brows furrowed as if you were bothering him by asking. âJongho had mentioned once that your village had plenty of fish,â he stated flatly.Â
You lowered your gaze to the plate again, heart thudding. âItâs very thoughtful of you,â you murmured absentmindedly, confused because you would have never mentioned something that personal to Jongho. You clearly remembered telling Wooyoung, though.Â
San scoffed under his breath, his dark eyes sharply lingering a moment longer on you than usual before he started eating again, effectively ending the conversation, leaving you wondering if he was uncomfortable rather than indifferent about the whole marriage aspect between you.
Nothing eventful happened the entire supper. There was no warmth, but there wasnât any coldness either, which wasnât necessarily a bad thing, but it did feel a little too hollow for your liking. The only thing in the air was the clinking of utensils and their scraping every time they hit the plate.
Dinner ended quietly just like you expected it to. âThank you for the meal, Your Grace,â you stood, bowing your head politely at him. âI will be taking my leave now. I bid you good night. â
You were about to make your way towards the door, careful not to step on your heavy lace-lined dress, when Sanâs voice rang through the hall. âWait.â
You froze, not expecting it. The command cut cleanly through the room, it wasnât loud nor urgent, but it sounded firm and absolute that your body halted by itself before your mind could catch up. You looked back at him, startled at the sudden call.
San hadnât moved far; he stood with one hand resting on the back of his chair, posture regal even in stillness. His chin lifted imperceptibly toward the center of the table. âTake those,â he said.
You blinked, confused. He sighed, brows furrowing as he moved his hand this time to gesture towards the table again, perhaps irritated at the aspect of having to repeat himself. âThe flowers,â he insisted, annoyed. âTake them. The arrangement, take all of them.â
You slowly turned your head, your eyes training to what he was pointing out. You raised your brows in mild surprise. Lenten roses. You didnât even notice them earlier, too focused on San and the fish you ate with all delight.Â
âThey will wilt if they are left here, and they would have been plucked out for nothing,â he spoke bluntly with that clinical precision youâve come to know him for as if everything was nothing but a trivial matter. âIf you appreciate them, take them. Otherwise they serve no purpose.â
You walked back to the table, trying not to flinch at San watching your every movement. You couldnât help the warmth blooming in your chest as your fingers lightly touched the edge of each petal. Youâve always loved flowers, especially here where everything was white and barren. The flowers brought colour and joy.
You lifted the vase carefully, gathering the flowers in your arms. âT-Thank you, I will take care of them,â you whispered quietly, not knowing what else to say.
San didnât reply. He only gestured one curt nod, already returning his gaze to the falling snow outside the window. There was something in his eyes then, something you couldnât fully gauge, but before you could think about it, he was already walking away, closing the door behind him, leaving you to think about what you thought you heard him whisper before he left.
âI am sure you will.â
You left the dining hall with the lenten roses cradled gently against your chest, their subtle fragrance following you down the corridor, smiling to yourself, careful not to tug on the petals as they brushed against the material of your dress.
It was how Hongjoong saw you, the gallant knight beaming as he approached you. âMy, what seems to make my lady smile like this?â His eyes looked at the flowers in your hands, eyes twinkling with understanding. âThose are beautiful. May I hold them for you while I escort you to your chambers?â
You smiled wider, appreciating the kind words. Hongjoong was one of the first people you met when you settled in Utopia. He was gentle, reliable, fiercely protective, and you found yourself being attached to him quickly. âHow was supper with His Majesty?â He asked.
âIt was good, thank you,â you answered truthfully. âA little stiff, and heâsâŠwell, heâs him.â
Hongjoong nodded in understanding. âI know what you mean,â he exhaled, pausing a little in thought before he continued. âMy MajestyâŠheâs carrying a lot. I would lay my life on the line for him. I know itâs hard to believe, my lady, but I can assure you he means well. Heâs a good man.â
âItâs quite alright, Sir Hongjoong, I understand,â you said, pursing your lips. âI am here for one purpose only and I will fulfill it. What Your Majesty and I have is nothing short of political. Heâs very decent to me so far, and I suppose heâs not required to go beyond that decency.â
But as you put the roses on your nightstand, replacing the winter heathers that have started to wilt, sometimes, you couldnât help but imagine a different scenario; one where Sanâs eyes werenât shrouded in frost, one where he might be that warmth in the midst of the snowstorm.
The thought of it made the tips of your ears red, heat spreading through your cheeks down to your neck. Snap out of it, you thought. The king was good-looking, devastatingly so, and admittedly, had the situation been different, he was actually your type.Â
Unfortunately, the lenten roses have also started to wilt. You would never admit that you noticed each stage of it, that every morning you checked the vase before you checked the mirror. You wouldnât admit that it bothered you. Enough time had passed where you noticed that something had changed, both for good and bad reasons.
âI know it might not seem like it because, well, the snow,â Wooyoung chuckled weakly one morning, looking at the window with worry. âBut Christmas always seems to bring out the best in people and we tend to celebrate it the best we can. I promise youâll love it, my lady.â
The snow began to fall harder; harder than youâve seen it. Christmas time apparently always brought the harshest storms, but it didnât stop everyone from decorating the entire castle with the familiar hollies and tapestries that brought a little colour and life in the usually grey castle.
âI believe it,â you smiled, hanging some ivy and a couple of ribbons in your chambers, which Jongho had so kindly brought. âDo youâŠthink the king will let me decorate his chambers?â
Both Jongho and Wooyoung froze, looking at each in worry before the latter cleared his throat. âBest to avoid His Highness during this time, my lady,â he said quietly. âHis mood is particularlyâŠdelicate at this time of the year, especially.â
You raised a brow. Apparently, the storms werenât the only thing that was harsh during Christmas. âWhat? Why? Does he not like Christmas?â
âItâs not that. Heâs just crankier and unapproachable, thatâs all,â Jongho admitted, avoiding eye contact. âBest not to test him, my lady.â
You tried to celebrate with everyone, noticing that everyone seemed to look forward to your presence every time you went around the castle. The servants seemed to be brighter in spirit, more than the usual, their smiles wider, the merry tunes of Christmas filling in the hallways that actually made you forget about your worries. You were actually happy for once.
âIt is because Christmas actually gives the people a reason to like the snow,â Mingi patiently explained one day in the middle of your lessons. âAnd the queenâs presence gives the people strength, a pillar to look up on in the kingâs absence.â
You werenât good with reading and writing yet, but you were getting there. Christmas wasnât an exception for you to skip out on your studies. Not that you minded, Mingi was a wonderful mentor and you genuinely did enjoy learning from the knowledgeable man.
âMay I know the reason why His Majesty is to be avoided during this time?â You asked, holding your quill just like he taught you. âEveryone seems to refuse to talk about it.â
Mingi turns silent. After a while, he gently grabs your quill, handing you a book instead. âShall we move on to economics, my lady?â He suggested, changing the topic, his eyes silently begging you to let the conversation go.
You faltered, mildly surprised at the blatant avoidance of the topic. You tried, you really did, not to think about San and respect what everyone kept saying, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the elephant in the room. You nodded slowly, taking the book, and that was that.
Of course youâve noticed that San was nowhere to be seen. The throne room was avoided like it contained the plague, itself. His study was left untouched and even Seonghwa didnât dare enter it even for more military planning. The servants paled, pretending they had urgent business elsewhere, which always prompted either Yeosang or Jongho to personally deliver his meals.
Nobody was telling you anything. Whether it was because you were an outsider or they were doing it for your protection, you didnât know. You were left in the middle of it and you couldnât help but feel something twist deep in your guts.
Because this wasnât normal avoidance. This was fear. It wasnât the terrified kind, no, but the quiet, heavy, and trained kind - the kind that people develop after years of knowing exactly what triggers a man, and what doesnât. And you didnât know what to feel about it.
And of course, this was when you found yourself thinking of him even more. You asked yourself multiple times what happened to him and what made him dislike Christmas. At first, you thought it was because the snow fell harder on the already cursed, snow-covered land that people blamed on him, but seeing how the people acted, it was more than that.
Sure, San had always been especially cold and distant, his walls high and impenetrable, but he was never cruel and never raised his voice at anyone. He had always been intimidating, but you genuinely didnât understand why this time was different.Â
What could make an entire palace walk on eggshells around their king? Why did everyone act like Christmas turned him into something dangerous?Â
Oh, how you wished you knew the answer to this before you started roaming around the castle, hugging your arms to yourself, absentmindedly walking aimlessly with all these thoughts.
Was it the storm that was making San hot-tempered, or was it Sanâs temper that was bringing on the storm and making it worse?
A heavy gust of wind rattled the castle walls and the frames that were hooked on them, snapping you out of your thoughts immediately. You looked around in worry, realising that you had ventured a bit too far in your absentmindedness.
Your anxiety rose when you also realised that you were near the currently forbidden area - Sanâs chambers. Youâve never even been in this section of the castle before and you sure as hell werenât going to start now. Panicking, you quickly turned around to leave.
It wasnât until you heard it, something spine-chilling enough that it made you stop in your tracks not to listen, but out of surprise and horror. You didnât have to think hard or even turn around to know that the sound was coming from Sanâs room.
âFuck. Fuck. M-Make it stop, pleaseâŠâ
Moans and grunts of pure, raw pain were to be heard all over the corridors, the sound of it echoing ghastly around the walls and bouncing in its agony. You paled, caught off guard, not knowing exactly how to react at what you were hearing.
You jumped up when a loud crash followed by a deep, menacing growl on top of pitiful whimpers resounded after. It was horrifying to listen to. You couldnât help but put your trembling hands on your mouth, eyes widening at the prospect of San hurt, or worse, someone hurting him in the privacy of his own chambers. He sounded like he was getting tortured.
Panic arose in your head, but even then, you had to force yourself to think. What were you going to do? You had absolutely no idea what was happening behind that door and that, alone, terrified you.
Not the sounds, but the idea of it. What could bring a man like San - the controlled and measured king you knew, the one with walls so high, you couldnât see through it, the man who barely blinked at his adversaries - down to something feral and desperate?Â
Do you run? Do you get Jongho? Seonghwa? Yunho? Anyone who knows what to do? And you were going to do exactly that. You pulled your skirts up, ready to sprint for help, but once again, you heard a noise. Something about the primal emotions in his tone tugged at your heartstrings. He was choking, the sound of it wet, low, and trembling.
But most of all, he sounded alone. He sounded terrified. You couldnât leave him. Not like this. So against your better judgment, against every warning, against everybody who swore you shouldnât even think about approaching San, and against the fear stuck in your throat, you moved towards his door, your hand already pushing it open.Â
Nothing could ever prepare you for the destruction that lay all over the room the moment you entered. Everything was in shambles and disarray. Your heart almost wanted to leap out of your chest as you inspected the room, trying to look for the reason why you were even here.
You didnât see San. But you could hear him. You tried to follow his pained grunts, your feet moving to what you assumed was the bathroom, your insides turning upside down when you realised that he wasnât just groaning - he was wretching his guts out.Â
The closer you got, the more distinct the awful, guttural noises became. Your fingertips brushed the doorframe, almost whispering to announce your presence so as to not startle him, but you stopped halfway when you dared to look inside.
San was on his knees, trembling and bracing himself on one arm, his head lurched forward as he gurgled out the contents of his stomach, or the lack thereof. Your heart squeezed painfully seeing the great, cold king of Utopia reduced to such a state.
His usually prim appearance was nowhere to be seen, his hair disheveled and sticking to his skin, damp with sweat, his shirt open to reveal his sculpted chest that convulsed violently as he heaved and coughed so hard that you thought that something inside him was about to break. His other hand clutched the locket he always wore so tight, veins started to pop from his arm.
But that wasnât the thing that bothered you as much as it worried you. It was his eyes. They were wild, red, and bloodshot like he hadnât slept in days - like he hadnât been himself in days. Your heart cracked, not being able to stop the whimper that crawled up your throat.
His neck snapped up in your direction so quickly, you were terrified for a second, and he froze, eyes widening at the sight of you trembling uselessly by the doorway. For a split second, you saw something in those eyes other than coldness. You were the last person he expected to see.
And he tried to say something to you. You saw his lips part and you saw him process that you were here, in a place you absolutely shouldnât be, but before he could do so, his body seized again, bending forward brutally to clutch his chest, shoulders curling inward against the pain.
You watched him stand up, feebly supporting himself by gripping the edge of the sink as his quivering legs tried to support his weight. He stared at you with those hazy eyes, almost glaring, using the back of his hands to wipe his mouth. âWhat are you doing here?â He snarled. âWhereâs Hongjoong?â
Your body seemed to snap into action, step forward to try and help him. âYour Majestyââ
He slaps your hand away, but it was more of a poor attempt at it, limping past you with great effort. âI asked you a question,â he barked, angrier than youâve ever seen him, slightly making you flinch. âYou shouldnât be here, didnât anybody in this godforsaken castle tell you?â
He said it with such contempt, looked at you with so much scorn and disdain that you almost ran away with your tail between your legs, but when his trembling intensified, breath stuttering like his lungs couldnât remember how to breathe, you made the split decision to surge forward, anyway, gripping his arm to help him walk.
âYouâre not well, Your Grace,â you whispered, almost pleading. âPlease, let me help.â
A small gasp leaves your lips as your hands wrapped around his bicep. He was warm, warmer than you expected, like sitting in front of a hearth to seek comfort. And he paused, staring at you. Truly staring with something unreadable in his eyes before he shoved you, or tried to.
âDonât,â he tried to shove you again, his palm weakly trying to rip your hands away from him. His breath hitched, body swaying dangerously to the side before he leaned on the doorframe, eyes boring onto you sharply. âLeave,â he growled, jaw clenched, rage evident in his tone. âJust leave. Youâre useless to me.â
It stung that even in his state, he was still pushing you away. You didnât understand what was happening, and you had a feeling that you still wonât anytime soon, but when he started to stagger forward, you lunged forward to try and catch him before he hit his head on instinct. You didnât need to know for now. San needed your help.
âYour Majesty, Iâm begging you,â you pleaded desperately, pushing up on him and pulling him slightly to help him out of the bathroom. âStop fighting me, please.â
âAnd who the hell are you to tell me what to do?â His hand fisted weakly in the front of your sleeve, as if to shove you away again. Instead, it simply trembled there, powerless.
You didnât answer, grunting as you guided him towards his disheveled bed. He relents, albeit begrudgingly, sinking onto the bed, chest heaving, eyes glassy with exhaustion. You immediately get to work, finding something to use to wipe his sweaty skin and grimy face to relieve some of the tension that was troubling him.
The bed sank under your weight, and for a second, you hesitated a bit, but when you saw San breaking out in more sweat, the hesitation left. Gently, you dabbed the damp towel all over his skin. You stared from his temples, smoothing his hair out, wiping the residue off his lips as well, down to his neck, careful not to irritate him with the temperature.
You got all the way down to his chest, finally looking at it up close and being mildly surprised at the dark lines that littered all over it. They were black in colour, resembling tree branches that covered his entire torso. They didnât look natural. Rather, they looked infected and cursed.
It was when San seemed to realise that you were looking at them. You flinched when he suddenly grabbed a blanket to cover his chest, harshly snatching the towel away from your hands to brutally throw it across the room.
It was a sudden burst of fury that seemed to sap all the remaining energy out of him. âGet out,â he rasped, voice shredded raw. His hand flew to the locket around his neck, one that you always thought was just a trinket or an heirloom. âYunho,â his voice cracked. The moment he mentioned the mageâs name, the locket glowed brightly, pulsing with unnatural energy that made your skin prickle. âYunho.â
It was magic. You knew it was. Nothing natural glowed like that. And the lines that were strewn all over Sanâs skinâŠthose werenât natural either. But they werenât the angelic magic Yunho had.
Yunho burst in through the doors not even a minute after, panting and looking like he ran a marathon just to get here. His eyes widened in horror the moment they landed on the way San convulsed and shook under the sheets.
âSan? Good Lord, San, whatââ he began, eyes dropping into something that resembled agony, pity lining his features at the sight of his king suffering under whatever was happening to him. He was about to rush forward, but immediately halted when he saw you.
His eyes went even wider, horror and disbelief flooding every inch of his face. âY/N, my lady,â he exhaled in utter shock, not even expecting to even see anybody, much less you of all people, to be sitting on Sanâs bed. âW-Why are you here?â
San grunted in pain once more, prompting Yunho to rush forward, assessing his king and the damage that he endured. Yunhoâs face crumpled. âMy lady,â he said over his shoulder without looking at you, tone gentle but firm. âPlease. You must leave. Now.â
If there was anyone who knew what to do, it was Yunho. You watched him for a moment, watched his hands hover over the kingâs body as they glowed blue, the magic flowing from his veins to transfer them to San. He was healing him, you reckoned.
âYou must not speak of this to anyone, my lady,â Yunho said quietly, looking at you briefly before his eyes glowed into that familiar fiery light you remembered from when you first met. âAnd I know you have questions, questions Iâm afraid I cannot give you right now, but for nowâŠâ
You didnât need to be told twice. You quickly got up, hastily walking towards the door to let Yunho do his work in peace, but before looking back at San for one last time before leaving. He looked a bit better. His face was still ashen and pale, but at least he was now sleeping.
And it hurt. It was the precise way that Yunho knew what to do - it meant that this was a regular occurrence for San. This happened year by year. And you werenât privy to what he was trying to tell you.
Pretend you didnât see anything.
Days passed in a daze, long nights where you lay wide awake on your bed where sleep refused to visit you, hours spent where you did exactly the opposite of what Yunho expected of you - to forget what you saw in Sanâs chambers that day, all of the grizzly parts of it.
It just wasnât possible. How could you just erase what fear you felt when you saw him on the floor? How could you forget the way his bloodshot eyes looked at you like you were the anomaly for finding him in that pitiful position? The way they widened in disbelief when he saw you just before gagging helplessly again?
And when you werenât seeing him in your head, you were hearing him amidst the silence of your room. The sound of him vomiting was wet and brutal, the unpleasant hacking and heaving of his stomach as he retched out was all you could hear. You could never forget it.
And the only thing louder than the awful sound was the realization that San had been suffering like this alone.
He was all you could think about, and frankly, you were worried. You couldnât concentrate on your duties and studies, your mind often flying towards the king you swore your life to, wondering if he was eating, worried if he was still in pain or if he was sleeping well.
A gentle cough startles you out of your stupor and you look up, finding Seonghwaâs gentle eyes trained on you. âMy lady? Are you still there?â He asked. âYou seem to beâŠdistracted. We could always continue this discussion next time.â
You blinked, shame crossing your features. You were currently with the marshal, who took time off to discuss basic tactics to you as per Sanâs request for additional knowledge. Redness creeps up your cheeks, embarrassed that you were wasting Seonghwaâs very limited time.
âI am terribly sorry, Sir Seonghwa,â you sincerely apologised, bowing your head slightly. âI must be in a doozy. Iâm afraid that my mind is elsewhere.â
He immediately waves his hands in flustered protest. âPlease donât bow to me, my lady. And this might be impudent, but,â he paused, looking around to see if the coast was clear, his voice dropping into a faint whisper. âWould this happen to be about what happened to His Majesty a week prior?â
Your brows raised in surprise. âYou know.â
He sighed, deep from within his chest, before getting up to lock the door. He, then, gives a grim nod. âOnly those closest to him do,â he admitted, crossing his arms, jaw tightening. âIncluding Wooyoung. He was His Majestyâs favourite scribe before he was assigned to you.â
You stared at him, having more questions than answers. And he knew this. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. âI was the one who had to haul Yunho out after he was done healing him,â he explained with another sigh. âIt takes a lot out of him, you see. Magic has to come from somewhere, and mages usually use their own energy.â
âThen, what is going on with him?â You pressed, unable to hide the urgency in your voice.
But Seonghwa only exhaled, long and pained, and shook his head. You could see it that he wanted to tell you. His heart was far too gentle, too earnest for secrecy, but the loyalty he bore to San was carved into him more deeply than any oath. âIf I were permitted to speak of it, my lady,â he said softly, âI would tell you everything I know. Itâs not my place.â
There was one question that was bothering you the most, however. One where you were afraid of the answer. The question left your lips before you could stop it. âIs he sick?â
He shook his head with confidence without a hint of doubt or hesitation. âNo,â he refused immediately. âIt is not a diseaseâŠat least not the type youâre thinking of.â
Your stomach turned, not liking that answer at all. Seonghwa paused, leaning closer, his eyes filled with genuine worry. âYou may not be queen yet, but I have already sworn my life to you, my lady, and I am saying this out of pure love and concern for you as your loyal servant. For your sake, do not return to his chambers.â
His voice dropped into something more hushed and it sent shivers prickling down your spine. âNo matter what happens, no matter what you hear. Do not go back there.â
The snow started to let up after a few days, if only a little bit. While the kingdom was still covered in a white haze, the storm had subsided enough that everyone could at least walk out, including yourself.Â
âHow curious,â you pondered while out and about on the castle grounds, hugging the fur-lined coat closer to your body. âIâve been told that the storm was going to last another week or so. Today is a beautiful day, though, donât you think so, dear Wooyoung?â
Utopia was a very beautiful kingdom even though the entirety of it was only white. âYes,â Wooyoung replied, the corners of his lips lifted up tightly with what seemed more like force than mirth. âHow curious, indeed.â
His eyes didnât match the smile. They dropped almost immediately, dimming with a soft, far-off melancholy, his mind clearly somewhere else in thought. By the time you looked fully at him, he had already blinked it away, the tight smile still lingering. âShall we go to your classes, my lady?â
You nodded, letting him lead the way. Today, you were determined to do well, but the moment you got in the library, you were met with a sight you were not expecting.
Because there was San currently in a deep conversation with Jongho. There were times that Mingi wasnât available, so Jongho would substitute him more often than not, and once a week or so, San would supervise your progress. Today was supposed to be one of those days.
This was the first time youâve seen San out and about, both since heâd secluded himself and since that day you accidentally walked by his chambers. You felt your heart going haywire at the sight of him. Both men havenât noticed your arrival and you took this time to observe your king.
It was almost unfair how striking San looked when he was fully focused on something, especially whenever he held a quill to write something or handle paperwork. The sharp downturn of his brows, the lean line of his jaw, or the way his lips pursed into a small pout.
But it was unjustly unfair for him to still look this handsome even while clearly still recovering. And just like that, any attraction towards him went in the back of your head for now. He was pale, his eyes lined with bags that were purplish and almost black in colour, lips lacking in colour that made you worry. He was rigid, obviously trying to stand a little straighter than usual.
So much so that you were tempted to walk up to him to ask him if he was doing alright, but you knew better. Just then, as if sensing eyes on him, Jongho lifted his head and gave you a soft, pleased smile. âAh, my lady, just. âMy apologies. I didnât notice you were here.â
San paused for a split second, jaw tightening, before ultimately deciding not to lift his head to greet you in acknowledgement, his attention solely on the paperwork as if you werenât even in the room.Â
The entire lesson went by like that. It was the most awkward session of your life so far because while San didnât acknowledge you in general, this was different. Usually, he would chip in a thought or two, ask you random questions that pertained to the subject, but this time, he was silent. You wouldnât even know he was there if you didnât see him earlier.
After half an hour, he got up and left. That in itself wasnât unusual either, San never stayed the entire lesson anyway, but at least every time he left, he would politely, albeit stiffly, say his goodbyes to you or pass a small comment about you doing well on your studies.
And despite everything - your fear, your confusion, your unanswered questions - you felt your chest tighten. You watched him walk away, your spirits dampening at each step he took. Jongho took notice of this. âDid you want to run after him?â He asked. âHeâsâŠwell.â
You shook your head. But it didnât stop there. Unfortunately, this continued for days. You would see him in his office, in the throne room, just him doing his regular kingsley duties like nothing ever happened, but he never acknowledged you. Not once. He didnât speak to you nor even looked your way. You were like a ghost at this point, worse than strangers.
He was deliberately ignoring you, you soon realised. San was avoiding you like the plague, and of course, you knew why, but this didnât stop you from thinking about him anyway. The more the days passed, the paler and more sickly he looked, and you couldnât help but worry.
You couldnât take it anymore. You had to check up on him. It was how you found yourself standing by his chambers again, knocking lightly on the door, whispering your arrival. When nobody answered, you breathed in, pushing the door open and hoping for the best.
Thankfully, there were no retching sounds to be heard. But unfortunately, the sight that met you was worse than you could have imagined.
There was San seated on his bed, shivering and trembling violently, one hand fisting the sheets he used to cover his entire body, while his other hand was pressed against his face, but it did nothing to hide the sight that made your stomach turn and your knees almost buckle down.
Thick streaks of red seeped from his fingers as blood seemed to spill from his nose, staining the smooth expanse of his pale cheeks. His breath came out in sharp, ragged wheezes, teeth clacking against each other to fight the cold tremors that plagued his body, and every breath he took, blood trickled from the corner of his lips, down the sheets.
Globs of red covered the sheets that it was hard to imagine that it was once white. You had never seen anything so grotesque in your life. âS-Sire?â You choked out, barely able to breathe.
He jerked at the sound of your voice. He lifted his head and your hands numbed, because his eyes werenât just bloodshot - the white parts had entirely become red, like they were tinted with blood. For a moment, he didnât even recognize you.
But the moment he did, it was like something primal in him came alive. âWhat the hell are you d-doing here?â He roared, feral, so loudly, you felt your bones rattle. You gasped at the intensity of it, caught off guard. âGet out.â
You closed the door behind you. âYour Majeââ
âGet out! Fucking hell, just get the fuck out!â His voice boomed. It felt like cold water was splashed on you. The expression he held on his face was one of delirium and ferality, and this was the first time youâve actually heard San lose his temper like this or even raise his voice.
He lurched forward, body spasming, getting up to charge at you, the rage on him impalpable. Blood dripped onto the floor in steady beats from his nose. âI told you to stay the hell away from me,â he snarled, shoulder rising and falling in ragged breaths. âWhy must youââ
Everything happened so fast. His arms gave out entirely, body pitching forward. You rushed to catch him before he hit the ground, hands sliding under his shoulders. âPlease, youâre hurt and youâre bleeding,â you gasped despite every instinct screaming that you should run. âI canâtââ
âDonât you fucking touch me!â He lashed out, swinging his arms. You yelped when he accidentally hit your shoulders, making you stagger backwards. âYou stupid, stupid girl,â he spat. âAre you deaf or just highly incompetent? How foolish could you be? What part ofâŠâ he trailed off, wincing in pain. âWhat part of leave do you not understand?â
And maybe he was right. Maybe you were stupid. But it didnât stop you from limping towards him anyway. âPlease,â you whispered, hands up in surrender. âI want to helpââ
âI said donât come near me!â He barked, grabbing another nearby vase and throwing it on the floor in sheer anger. âYou just never listen, do you? You think barging in here in a place where youâre explicitly forbidden makes you brave? No, it makes you a burden, you recklessââ
He cut himself off with a guttural groan, one hand flying to his throat as if he couldnât breathe. That was it for you, you werenât going to just simply watch. You surged forward, grabbing him by the shoulders. âEnough,â you breathed, voice trembling with resolve. âJustâŠstop.â
His arm jerked up to push you away, but it was no use. âThe nerve of you, I am your kingââ
You narrowed your eyes, not even letting him finish his nonsense. You grabbed his shoulders and with one pull, you hauled him forward with practiced force. Even through the haze, you saw his eyes widen with surprise, genuinely stunned at the show of strength as you dragged him towards the bed and laid him down whether he liked it or not.
âYou are forgetting who I was before all of this,â you murmured calmly, trying to ease him onto the sheets. âI am a farm girl. I grew up carrying heavy sacks of grain and meat, Your Majesty. It was all I knew. You wouldâve known how calloused my hands were if you touched them more.â
He wanted to argue, you could tell, but more than that, there was a look in his eyes that made you pause. He looked at your hands, then back at your eyes with a brow raised, and there was something in there. He looked mildly offended. Now, you didnât want to assume, but if you were being honest, his eyes were clearly telling you he did, in fact, know.
You looked away, turning around to stop the butterflies in your stomach. You worked quickly, grabbing a basin and some towels and putting them on his nightstand and of course, he tried to resist at first, but eventually, the fight in him left and he went still, surrendering to your help simply because he had no strength left to give.
You wiped the blood from his eyes and cheeks, cleaned the streaks along his neck, cool cloth brushing over heated skin and every so often, he twitched or groaned. You urged him to sit up, finding the first shirt you found in his dresser to change his bloodied shirt, careful not to look at the dark lines that marred his chest for fear of him lashing out on you again.
You had to replace the water in the basin three times, spilling the now reddened water over and over again until his skin was free of blood and water no longer stained red. He stared at you the entire time you worked, emotionless, not saying anything.
âAre you comfortable, Your Highness?â You whispered, gently smoothing his damp hair away from his face.Â
He hummed hoarsely, nodding subtly, but he didnât look away. He watched you with those hollow eyes you were used to and usually, it unsettled you, but instead, your stomach fluttered. He was too handsome for someone who had nearly collapsed in your arms. It wasnât fair.Â
Suddenly, he grimaced, seizing as his entire body began to spasm, shivering even though it was pretty warm inside his chambers. You didnât know what to do, so you didnât. Instead, you quickly sat on the bed, gently positioning his head on your chest to let him borrow your warmth even though you werenât sure it was going to help, holding him tight.
He stiffened, but gave up the fight once again once he probably realised how warm you were, how gentle you cradled his feeble body as your hands steadied his head. An uncalled memory striked your head. This reminded you of how your mother would comfort you when you were ill.
Without thinking, as if on instinct, you fingers began to comb his hair, swaying your shoulders to rock him tenderly like your mother used to do to soothe you. âItâs alright,â you hushed, finding the right rhythm to rock his quivering body. âI-I got youâŠâ
You didn't know when the stinging behind your own eyes started, but you continued to rock him, anyway, hoping he didnât feel the tears that fell from your eyes on his skin, or the way your voice cracked once in a while as you hummed a soft lullaby to accompany the soothing motion. You really didnât know. All you knew was that it hurt to see him like this.
Eventually, the tremors eased, and finally, San went still, his head growing heavy on your chest as sleep finally caught up to him. His light snores filled your ears as whatever was causing all this loosened its grip on him temporarily to let him rest.Â
And you didnât move, not until you were sure he was truly asleep. You didnât want to anyway. And in the stillness that followed, your heart tugged painfully. This was the closest youâve ever been to San and it was unfortunate that it had to be in these circumstances.
You didnât realise how long youâd been sitting there, lost in your own thoughts, staring at his sleeping face. You were exhausted, your body was also becoming a little weary as the adrenaline came crashing down on you. You needed air.
You shifted, carefully lowering his head on his pillow so you could get up and let him have this rare moment of peace, but before you could get up, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist. Your breath stilled, mouth opening slightly in surprise.
And if that wasnât enough, he tugged on it, too. It was weak and clumsy, but you felt it, anyway. He didnât open his eyes, but his brows furrowed. âStay,â he rasped, barely a whisper, voice rough with sleep, raw with excess use and fatigue.
Your breath came out ragged as you stared at his hand around your wrist, holding onto it as if you were his lifeline. And by God, you felt something then. Your chest fluttered warmly at first, before turning into heat that was too dangerous for your own good. You could barely breathe, it was like he had your heart in his hand, squeezing it slightly instead of your wrist.
You bit your lip, hesitant. Was he even coherent enough to know what he was asking for? You didnât want to take advantage of it, but the thing was, you couldnât bear to leave this room knowing that you were going to worry about him the entire night, anyway.
It was when he opened his eyes, barely halfway, but enough where you could see the familiar sharpness in them. âStay,â he repeated, firmer this time. He wasnât asking you, he was demanding you.
You nodded, lifting the covers and sitting back down on the bed, and the moment you did, he shifted instinctively towards your warmth, making your heart flip. Not even a minute later, his breathing evened out again and you let these warm, fuzzy feelings lull you to sleep.
But the next morning, all those feelings died. You were startled awake by someone shaking you violently. At first, you didnât realise where you were, the unfamiliar setting of the room sending your head into a frenzy, but all of it came back to you when you saw San staring at you.
He looked somewhat better - better than youâve seen him in a while, really. In fact, he was already in his royal attire. And he looked angry. Maybe thatâs why his brows were furrowed together, face reddened in a way that only unbridled fury could bring.
You quickly got up, ready to tend to him in case he was still feeling unwell, your eyes automatically checking if there were specks of blood to be found on his shirt, relieved to see that there wasnât any. âYour Highness,â you began, voice still thick with sleep. âDid you needââ
âNot another word. I donât want to hear you, and I donât want to see your face, you hear me?â San spoke with calm, deliberate venom, not giving you a chance to even finish your sentence. âDo you understand me? Or are you perhaps too stupid to?â
You were stunned into silence. His words landed like a slap to your face, each one of them precise and intentional. âP-Pardon?â You couldnât help but let out, genuinely surprised at how scathing he sounded and it stung worse than anything last night.
He scoffed, tilting his head in mock fashion, a derisive smirk on his face. âYou think youâre exceptional now that youâve stayed here?â He seethed, eyes snapping to you with such lethal coldness, it halted the air in your lungs. âWhat, you think tending to me makes you important?â
This time, you were actually shocked, hurt filling your chest as you stood up to try and explain yourself. âI donât know what youâre saying,â you breathed out. âI was just trying to help.â
âOh, please, spare me,â he scoffed, eyes like cold glass. âYou deliberately refused to listen to me when I told you to get out and not come back. You were like a stray animal that refused to get kicked out.â
He enunciated his words clearly, ensuring each word landed exactly where it would do the most damage. And he succeeded. You blinked, hurt prickling your chest. âThis isnât fair,â you said. âI was genuinely worried for your well-being. You know thatâs not true.â
âNo? Tell me, then. What do you call throwing yourself at me during my weakest moments?â He kept trudging forward and you kept staggering backwards, stopping when your back hit the wall, San effectively trapping you. âOr maybe you were just that desperate, crawling into my bed like some pathetic little thing.â
The words hit like a slap, You knew he was a little cruel in ways he didnât mean, but this time, it was different. He meant every single thing. Of all the things he did and didnât do, this was the one that genuinely hurt you the most. You shook your head quickly, eyes stinging, not even knowing what to say to that one.
You could have any other insults any time of the day, but being accused of being a desperate whore will be one you will never, ever accept. You grew up with absolutely nothing, almost gave up your life with less, but the one thing you refused to let go and get trampled upon was your dignity and integrity.
Bile rose from your throat as you tried to breathe through the pain in your chest, the pain so physical that you wanted to fold in on yourself. You looked up, ready to excuse yourself, but when you looked at San, his eyes were wide, mouth open, expression aghast with regret.
You realised, then, that you had already started to cry, hot tears falling in torrential streaks down your eyes, You choked, getting dizzy at the whiplash at the speed of how your mind caught up and it was when an agonised whimper left your throat before you could stop it.
âI-I didnât mean what I said,â he backed up, raising his hand in an attempt to touch you but stopped himself at the last minute when he realised how deeply he shattered you. âOh, God, I did not mean any of that, I did not mean to diminish your integrity like thisâoh, God.â
But the damage was done. You hadnât even realized youâd spoken those words aloud. All colour drained from Sanâs face and he looked so frightened by his mistake that it hurt to look at because he wasnât even this frightened when he was bleeding out from his eyes and mouth.
âY/N, stop, donât cry, donât, please,â he said, voice suddenly hoarse, almost breaking. âI didnât mean those, I swear to you. Listen to me, I am soââ
You flinched at the sound of his voice, and that alone made him visibly flinch in return. You shook your head again, because you couldnât hear this. Not right now. Not when his words were still ringing in your ears like a fresh wound.
You were determined to get away, but he held onto your wrist. âDonât go,â he pleaded, raw and guilty. You tried to free yourself, but he held on. âY/N, please,â he swallowed. âI wonât keep you, but let me call someone to send you back. You canâtâŠjust wait, please.â
He held onto the same locket on his neck, the heirloom glowing slightly as San whispered to it, his hand never letting go of your wrist, not even when Hongjoong came in, eyes widening in concern at the scene he witnessed.
Sanâs hand finally loosened around your wrist, fingers trembling as they slipped away from your skin. âTake her,â he ordered the knight. âUse the hidden passage and let Wooyoung tend to her.â
He didnât look at you as Hongjoong led you out. He couldnât. His eyes were glued to the floor as if it physically pained him to lift them and you didnât look back as you walked out of the room he had shattered you in, letting the door close between you like a final, heavy blow.
To say that you were still upset until the next day would be an understatement. Because how dare he? How dare he just say those words like he had every right to? Oh, you were mad. And it wasnât even because you were looking for any sort of thanks for what you did; it wasnât your fault you were worried about him.Â
You touched your chest as you brooded in front of your vanity mirror. It was, however, your fault for feeling something there. Something you didnât want to think about when he held your wrist and told you to stay.
You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought, just in time to hear gentle knocking on your door. You sighed, pursing your lips, turning around to see a sheepish looking Wooyoung standing by the door, his hands behind his back. âI told you I did not want to be disturbed today,â you said.
âI know, my lady, but it is of utmost importance that I am here,â he replied, eyes twinkling. âI have something for you.â
Your frown turned into pleasant surprise when he finally brought his hands in front of him, a smile spreading across your face when you saw what he held. In his hands was the most gorgeous bouquet of purple hyacinths wrapped together with a thin strip of ribbon and lace.
âOh, how lovely,â you gasped, excitedly taking them from him, bringing them closer to you and breathing them in. âTheyâre particularly difficult to find around, how did you acquire them?â
âI didnât. Theyâre not from me. His Majesty had them curated especially for you, my lady,â Wooyoung replied softly.Â
Your fingers stilled around the stems of the hyacinths, the smile on your lips faltering, your expression of joy slowly being replaced to that of visible shock. âWhat?â You murmured before you could stop yourself. âHe did? Are you sure?â
âYes, my lady. He personally gave them to me for you. He even instructed me to arrange them properly,â he said, his expression softening, all traces of mischief gone. âHe wouldâve come personally, but didnât think you would want to see him. Not after yesterday.â
Just when you thought that San couldnât send your mind into shambles even further. Your mind spun, refusing to comprehend that the cold king of Utopia would even do something like this. You brought the flowers to your chest without realizing it, pressing them lightly against your heart as if to steady it.
âThank you,â you said softly. âIâll put them in the vase, myself.â
Wooyoung exhaled, releasing a breath you didnât even realise he was holding. When he turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of something in his eyes. It was relief, tinged with sadness.
As you put the delicate flowers in the vase, it was hard to miss how carefully they were picked just for you. Each petal was perfect, free from bruising or any kind of marring. But more than that, why had he sent them anyway?
You had a vague idea. Behind all the walls he was putting up, was proof that San was actually capable of feeling regret. Somehow, that just hurt as much as the words he said because he knew what he said was wrong, yet, he chose to hurt you at the moment.
You reached out and brushed your fingers against the petals of the hyacinths. You werenât completely ready to forgive him, but for the first time since yesterday, your anger wavered.
The next day, you woke up with a brand new bouquet that was even bigger than the one the day before. This time, they were forget-me-nots, which was fascinating to see in a bunch considering how tiny they were.Â
âAgain?â You murmured, fingers hovering before gently touching one bloom. Wooyoung can only shrug, turning around before you see him smile.
San must be more remorseful than I thought, you pondered. You put them with the hyacinths, the anger in your chest still not subsiding, but simmering at least. And you thought that was that, but no, the flowers did not stop there, because San kept sending flowers for one week straight.
By the third day, they were white tulips. You stared at the pure and pristine blossoms, biting your lips, no longer just surprised, because there was something else accompanying it that made your chest oddly tight. You were flustered, and not just that, you couldnât help the heat on your face that stayed for what felt like hours after receiving the brand new bouquet.
And you wanted to stay angry, you really did, because no matter how many flowers he sends, the words he said can never be undone anymore, but how were you supposed to do that when he sends avalanche lilies the fourth day so plenty, they spilled all over the place? The other flowers havenât even wilted yet and here you were with new ones.
You stood in the middle of your chambers, struggling to find a place to put the vase that was overflowing with so much of the lilies. You turned around, helpless looking at a smirking Hongjoong who held another vase of the lillies. âIâm running out of places,â you laughed under your breath, equal parts overwhelmed and intimidated by how many flowers there were.
By now, the servants had stopped pretending not to notice. News had spread that the stoic and impassive king had been sending his would-be queen flowers everyday. The giggles and murmurs brought life to the castle and it was ridiculous how all of this had you smiling like you were a teenager all over again.
âThese are lovely,â Mingi commented, laughing at the overwhelming amount of flowers in your chambers when he came for your usual classes. âWell, I have a delivery,â he handed you another bouquet, mischief in his eyes. âMore to add to this garden of yours, I suppose.â
You felt your face warm up at his teasing remark. âI have no idea what you mean,â you mumbled, feeling your body buzzing with excitement as you took the bouquet of snowdrops from him. You held onto them the entire class and never let them go.
By the sixth day, you were awoken to the calming scent of lavender. You smiled without realizing it, opening your eyes to see Wooyoung and Jongho giggling to each other as they arranged the lavender all over your chambers, not knowing you were already awake - not knowing that you had begun to look forward to each flower that San sent your way.
Then, the seventh day came and this one was delivered a little differently. It had been nighttime by then and you were already starting to feel disheartened since there were no flowers yet, but as you were reading your book, Yeosang came in carrying a tray of food that had you salivating.
Not only that, they were generous heapings of food that you could tell were your favourites, and Seonghwa was hot on his tail carrying a modest but breathtaking bouquet of pink camelias. Yeosang laid all the dishes properly, not-so-subtly wiggling his brows at you playfully.
âHis Majesty specifically asked for todayâs supper to be special,â Yeosang said, his mouth curving into a knowing smile. âCatered to you, my lady. I hope the fish is to your liking, His Highness said you enjoyed it the last time you had it.â
Seonghwa placed the bouquet on your lap. âLooks scrumptious,â he commented, gesturing to the food. âHis Highness was especially pleased when we told him we discovered a river that had trout in them while we were roaming the area. Immediately thought of you, my lady.â
Your throat tightened. You looked at the bouquet, fingers brushing all over the pink petals and they felt tender and more earnest than the other flowers he sent you, somehow more personal than the rest.
And then you stared at the feast for a little while longer when the two men excused themselves, tears threatening to fall from your eyes before you dug in, heart warm and as full as your chambers that were overflowing with flowers. You had to think about it at first, why this particular bouquet seemed to tug at your heartstrings the most more than the other ones.
The simplicity of it made it your favourite, but it wasnât because of that - it was because all along, it seemed that San had been paying attention to you.
Seven different flowers for seven days straight, and not a single word. You wondered if this was Sanâs way of speaking when words failed him.
But that wasnât how you usually handled things. No, you were the confrontational type. The very next day, you made up your mind to seek San, yourself. You didnât want to let things fester, but the truth was, you wanted to see for yourself if the flowers meant something to him.
You found San in his study where you knew he usually was at this time of the day. You took a deep breath in, that little fear in the back of your head overtaking you, a bit scared that he was going to push you away, and rapped lightly on the door. When no one answered, you opened it slightly, peeking your head in before entering.
San didnât even notice you, let alone hear your knock, busy with his paperwork. Your heart lurched as you stared at him. He looked better, the colours on his cheeks and lips were back. You cleared your throat to catch his attention.
San looked up, shock flickering briefly across his features before he schooled them back into neutrality. Still, he set his pen aside immediately. âY/Nâmy lady,â he whispered breathily, standing up from his chair. âPlease, come in. Iâd hate for you to not feel welcome,â he paused, a slight frown marring his handsome face. âWhereâs Hongjoong?â
âIâm alone,â you do as told, carefully closing the door behind you. âI wanted to thank you,â you said, straight to the point, voice steady despite the way your heart fluttered. âFor the flowers.â
For a moment, he said nothing, most likely not expecting you to bring it up. âWere they to your liking?â San asked, voice softer than youâve ever heard it though his face still retained that sharpness youâve come to know him for.
You nodded with an affirming hum. âI did,â you replied with genuine sincerity. âThey were very beautiful, all of them.â
His gaze dropped, his Adamâs apple bobbing up and down as he audibly swallowed. âIâm pleased to hear it,â he replied, low and careful. Gone was the flatness in his tone, replaced by something just a little warmer. âVery pleased.â
âI will be cherishing them, Your Grace,â you smiled softly.
That earned you a look from him that lingered and remained unguarded. His eyes softened in a way that felt almost dangerous, one that had you holding your breath because you have never seen Sanâs eyes be this expressive not only towards you, but in general. And now that you knew he was capable of doing such a thing, you didnât know what to do.
You broke eye contact first, not being able to take the intensity of his gaze. âW-Well, Iâm afraid I have taken too much of your time,â you cleared your throat, lowering your head to hide the redness of your cheeks. âI shall be taking my leaveââ
âWait,â he stopped you, startling you a bit and apparently even himself. There was a long pause and you could only blink in anticipation. Finally, he exhaled. âAbout that night,â he began and your breath hitched. He noticed and his eyes glazed but only for a bit before going back to being impassive again. âThe words I spoke were cruel, words I should have never said to you.â
His jaw tightened, but he didnât look away, forcing himself to look you in the eye even though this was taking a lot out of him. âAnd for that, I am very sorry. I hope you can accept my sincerest apologies.â
And when he bowed low, that was all you needed to see. It wasnât flowery and it wasnât anything grand. But it was San, a king who was so used to being bowed to instead of the other way around. You felt the weight of his apology settle deeply in your chest.
âAlso,â he continued when he stood up straight again. âThank you for taking care of me the way you did, especially for staying and cleaning me up even though I gave you every reason not to. It was wrong of me to intentionally hurt you after all those.â
âI forgive you,â you reassured him. âThough I was very much hurt, everyone deserves a second chance. You do, too.â
Another silence fell, but this one was different. It was a little awkward because youâve never really been alone with San without the entire exchange being political, but at least it wasnât cold or heavy. Rather, you found yourself not minding it much. The silence was comfortable.
When he finally spoke again, his tone had softened further, almost hesitant. âItâs a lovely day outside the castle grounds,â he turns his head towards the windows before training them back on you, eyes fainltly dubious but fairly hopeful. âWould you do me the honours of walking with me and lending me your time, my lady?
You were stunned into silence. The way he asked it, the way his gaze lingered as though he were bracing himself for rejection. Your heart betrayed you before your mind could catch up. âI would love to, my king. â
There was a very faint curve that tugged at the corners of his lips. It was very subtle, almost invisible but it was there, as he exhaled a soft sigh of relief. Then, he extended his hand, not breaking eye contact, and how can you reject him when he was actually offering and not demanding?
You began to lift your hand, but you stopped midair when you realised that you had no gloves on. San remained quiet, though you can see it on his face as realisation dawned. Your hands werenât soft and dainty, all traces of femininity gone from all the years of farming.
âMay I?â he asked gently, his voice lowered as though the moment itself deserved reverence.
At your nod, he gingerly reaches for your hand, his touch warm and surprisingly comforting at the lightest of contact. He hummed under his breath, stealing yours when he brushed his thumbs over the thick callouses of your skin and something burst inside your ribs.
âYou have beautiful hands that have been through a lot,â he murmured. âYou should be very proud of them. As I am.â
Your heart swelled painfully, emotion rushing in far too fast when he stilled his thumb, pressing them on your skin and thatâs when you felt it - his own scars. Callouses met callouses, strength met strength, and instead of shame, you felt seen. He shifted closer and with an ease that felt almost intimate, linked his arm with yours.
If you were being completely honest with yourself, you wanted to scream. Your face was as red as a tomato - probably even redder - trying your best not to be too stiff as San adjusted his pace to match yours as you began to walk through the snowy grounds of the castle.
And by God, he was trying his best. San still felt rigid beside you, his steps a little measured and deliberate, but not because of duty, but because of consideration for you. This was the same man who always kept space between you, who never so much as let your sleeves touch during formal walks, and now he was walking with you like you were equals.Â
âI know I should have asked this before,â he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking your way, and you just had to blush - one because the way the sun hit the high points of his face made him look ethereal, and two, he was really, really trying and it was endearing. âBut how are you liking Utopia? IâŠknow thereâs not much here. You can be honestâoh, wait.â
You frowned when he slowed. It was when you noticed that you were about to pass a narrow path, and not only that, the wind also started to pick up, the bite of it hitting your face rather painfully. Without saying anything, he angled himself to shield you from both the wind and the path so your dress wouldnât be caught in the dirt.
You stared at him in awe, your cheeks warm and your pulse racing for reasons that had nothing to do with trepidation. He gazed at you, shoulders tense as he waited for your answer. âItâs quiet and the snow doesnât pretend to be king, and I think thatâs why I like it. Utopia doesnât promise warmth. It promises survival, if youâre willing to stay and try.â
San stopped walking, turning fully to you, actually staring at you as if it was the first time heâs actually seeing you. Respect further softened his eyes, awe flickering in them. âI see,â he drawled, throat bobbing when he swallowed. âYunho was right all along. Thank you.â
You wanted to ask him what that meant, but he continued walking then, aimlessly with no ending point in mind. He asked you more questions, like the books you read or what you did in your free time. He didnât speak a lot, but when he did, he was very gentle with his words, very regal and proper. You reckoned that this was just how he was in general as a person.
And he listened to everything you said, never interrupting nor dismissing you. The walls were still there, unmistakable and tall, but you could see where he was pressing against them from the inside, trying to make room for you.
âAnd your lessons?â He asked earnestly. âAre they too difficult? Iâm afraid I might have put too much pressure on you.â
âThey are,â you admitted. âBut nothing I cannot handleââ
âYour Majesty.â
You both turned around, not expecting to see Jongho whose voice cut through the moment. His brows were both slightly raised, eyes pleased as he inspected the both of you and San - walking side by side, arms linked - head nodding in approval, though it is replaced by sheepishness when he realised what he just walked into and interrupted.
San stilled, his eyes narrowing into slits as he stared at his advisor. The tenderness he had didnât just disappear, it completely snapped out of existence as if the gentle man you were with the entire time was just an illusion. His body snapped into rigidity, face dropping into that impassive and unreadable coldness you were so used to seeing in him.
âYes?â San gritted his teeth, tone sharp and clipped. It wasnât apprehensionâinducing, rather, the immediate change fascinated you.
âWe have a budgetary meeting to be held half an hour from now, Your Highness,â Jongho meekly replied.
San sighed, mumbling quietly under his breath. âSend all the heralds. I shall be there,â he nodded, ever the king he was.
He turned, releasing your hand with visible reluctance. You didnât think that the change in him could be more startling, but you were wrong. The hardness melted away, eyes warming, voice dropping into something gentle and almost apologetic when he started to speak to you.
âI apologise,â he pursed his lips. âIt slipped my mind that I had prior commitments before this.â
You shook your head. âItâs quite alright, Your Highness. You have priorities you canât ignore.â
âI hope that I may ask for your time again,â he added, and in a drastic turn of events, he lifted your hand to his lips, planting a brief, innocent kiss to it before he let go. âSoon.â
And thatâs how he left you, standing still with your heart racing with cheeks so red, it wouldâve been enough to melt the snow around you. You realised, then, that Choi San might have been far more dangerous like this compared to when he was much colder.
So maybe you were curious about San. You wanted to know the things he liked, what he did in his free time, and what made him tick. You chalked it up to boredom on your end, however, there was genuinely one thing you wished to know more than anything.
âOh, hello, Y/N,â Yunho greeted with the warmest of smiles the moment you entered Sanâs study, lowering his glasses and setting aside the notes he held. âIâm afraid San isnât here today. Heâs currently with Seonghwa to inspect some disturbance up north of the territory.â
Now that you think about it, maybe this was the best case scenario. Yunho was easier to talk to than San, and from what youâve seen, the two seemed to go way back. Maybe he could answer your questions better.
âYou would be correct,â Yunho chuckled, crossing his arms with a smirk. âIâve been with the Choi clan before Sanâs grandfather was even born, so you could definitely say we go way back.â
It was your turn to raise your brows. You raised them so high, you wouldnât be surprised if they reached up your hairline. âFirst of all, you could read minds,â you blurted out stupidly before you could stop yourself. âAnd second, you donât look a day over twenty-five.â
At that, he laughs heartily, his entire body rattling as the melodious sound of his contagious laughter bounced around the study. âSo I have been told,â he chortled. âAnd you caught me at the most opportune time, too. Well, since youâre here, I could try to explain some things to you since there seems to be a lot in your mind.â
Yunho reached for a piece of paper, crumpling it into a small ball in his hand. At his touch, it began to glow, and when he opened his hand, tiny silver butterflies fluttered lazily in the air. He smiled when you gasped in awe, then at the flick of his wrist, they disappeared, a light drizzle of glitter left in their wake as proof of temporary life.
âIs this the same power you use to heal San that night?â You asked bravely, not sure if you were even supposed to ask but decided to go for it anyway.Â
Yunho hummed, eyes dropping at what you were trying to ask. âVery clever way of prying information out of me, Iâll give you that,â he chuckled. âBut yes, you could say that.â
And just like that, the air turned a little more serious. You hesitated for a little bit before asking again. âHis HighnessâŠwhat was that that night?â
Yunho exhaled slowly, the lightness draining from his expression as he turned fully toward you. âYou werenât meant to see that,â he said quietly. âYou werenât meant to be there at all.â
Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves, bracing yourself. âWhat you witnessed,â he continued, choosing his words with care. âIs something that predates you, me, even this kingdom as it stands.â
Your heart dropped then and there. Not because of fear, but because you were hoping to hear something else that did not confirm the fact that, indeed, was suffering all this time. âSo,â you started, trying to steady your voice. âThe rumours about him being cursed...â
âYou saw the markings on his chest,â he said instead, eyes steady on yours.
Your breath hitched. He didnât deny it. âHow it began and what caused it,â he continued, turning his head to stare at the light snow falling from the sky through the window. âThat is Sanâs story to tell. What I can tell you is that weâre trying our best to stall it. I would use my powers and San would lend me his energy since it takes a lot out of me to do this.â
Your shoulders slumped before you could stop yourself. âBut todayâŠ?â
âJust me,â Yunho said gently, and then smiled knowingly. âYou look disappointed.â
You flushed instantly. âI-I was just curious.â
âRight,â he drawled, his smirk widening. âWell, a little birdie told me that you two were getting cosy the other day walking around the castle grounds.â
âWe are to be married soon,â you defended yourself weakly. âSurely, itâs fairly normal to familiarise with each other before then, donât you think?â
âMhhm. And surely, San didnât have to send you different flowers everyday and make a show about it,â he laughed. âThey were quite difficult to find, too. He was so adamant about them.â
You pouted, cheeks burning. âHe was being remorseful. Iâm sure youâve heard what happened.â
âSure, but what about the ones before those?â
You paused, caught off guard. That definitely caught your attention, because unless you were remembering wrong, you were positive youâve never received anything from San before. And Yunho, it took him a minute, but his eyes widened in genuine surprise when he saw that you had no idea what he was talking about.
âHeâs been giving you flowers long before the recent ones, Y/N,â Yunho carefully explained. âDo you not remember? Wooyoung would either arrange them for you or youâd already have them before you woke up. I know because Iâd make them and transport them in your chambers.â
The room spun before you. Of course you remember those flowers, they were the only source of happiness and comfort you had for the longest time since they were the only colour youâd see in contrast to the greyness of your surroundings. And to think that San has been sending them to you all along had you dizzy.
âI-I had no idea,â you breathed out. âI genuinely had no idea.â
âOf course you didnât,â Yunho sighed. âBut itâs not your fault, heâs not a very showy person, as you can already tell,â he paused, locking eyes with you firmly. âSan is a good man, just a little more reserved and closed off especially with what heâs been through. Here, take this.â
He proceeds to pluck a book from the shelf behind him and give it to you. âRead it when youâre alone, but for now, just know that that man you saw that night was not and will never be a representation of who San is as a person.â
You remembered the blood, the tremors, the way his voice had broken despite all that fury. Your throat burned. âI know,â you said. âI just genuinely wanted to help him, thatâs all.â
âAnd he knows that,â he replied softly. âBut you have to understand, he hates being seen like that because thatâs not him. He has a habit of saying things he doesnât mean because heâs so used to enduring things alone simply because heâs long forgotten how to ask for help. Like that morning when he made you cry.â
You cringed internally, not wanting to remember the hurtful things he had said, but waiting to see where Yunho was going with this. âThereâs no excuse, and heâs already tormented himself for it, but the reason why he was angryâŠtell me, did you go through a secret passage?â
You raised a brow in mild surprise, nodding in confirmation. âRight. You had basically spent the night with him. Unmarried. He didnât want the nobles seeing you and shaming you for it.â
You froze, the realisation striking you harder than you expected, but Yunho wasnât done yet. âUnfortunately, fear can look like cruelty sometimes,â he smiled, forlorn. âYouâd be surprised at how soft San actually is if you paid attention. Him assigning Hongjoong to you was probably the biggest telltale sign, Y/N.â
You were torn between knowing and not because you were terrified that once you knew, this would forever change the way your heart beat. Still, you looked up anyway, listening.
âHongjoong was Seonghwaâs lieutenant,â Yunho gently explained. âHis best fighter. San trusts very few people with his life. By placing Hongjoong at your side, he didnât just give you protection, he created a hole in his own defenses.â
Suddenly, memories clicked into place with painful clarity. Sanâs sharp tone whenever Hongjoong wasnât with you like that one morning when you asked him for tea. Still, you didnât want to believe it. âI-I donât understand.â
âHeâs not angry when he sees you alone without Hongjoong guarding you. Never was,â he said, gauging your reaction carefully. âHeâs worried youâll get lost. Terrified, even, that youâd lose your way and accidentally find yourself out in the snow and freeze to death.â
Silence followed. You only hoped that Yunho couldnât hear how your heart betrayed you by beating too loud inside your chest. âPay attention to him next time, yes? Pay attention to his eyes. Heâs got that look in them he doesnât even know he has when heâs staring at you.â
The moment you got out of there, you quickly ran to your chambers, opening the book that Yunho gave you. At first, you were confused because there was nothing but illustrations of flowers and their names, but when you looked closely, your blood ran cold. This wasnât just a book - Yunho handed you a floriography book. The study of flowers and their meanings.
You swallowed, knowing exactly what Yunho was trying to tell you without outwardly speaking of it. You turned the pages of the book, racking your head for flowers that San had given you prior to the recent ones. And then you remembered the winter heathers. Your fingers quickly scanned the book, until you found them.
Winter heathers, known to thrive where other plants cannot. Symbolises independence and self-reliance. When given, it is meant to say: Your beauty stands out even in the coldest times.
You almost dropped the book with what you just read, fumbling it clumsily in your hands. You couldnât believe it, was that how San looked at you even back then? And, then you remembered the lenten roses he made you take that one dinner.Â
Lenten roses carry quiet strength, consolation, and comfort with every petal. When given, it is meant to say: Your strength endures even in the deepest winter.
San made them seem like an afterthought back then, something whose potential he did not want to waste. You turned the page with a shaky exhale, desperate to find more meaning in the all flowers heâd given you.
The first one was the purple hyacinths. You will never forget that one because that was the first of many that he gave you.
Purple hyacinths: I bloom with remorse and I ask for your forgiveness.
A breathy exhale leaves your throat. The flowers were his way of speaking to you when words failed him. Your fingers lingered on the illustration longer than necessary, a dull ache spreading through you before you turned the page again.
Forget-me-nots: I cannot forget the hurt I put onto you.White tulips: I ask for forgiveness and hope we can begin again.
It was unsettling, how the sincere meanings of the flowers were earnestly making their way into your way, inching earnestly in every corner. You were about to turn the pages again when your eyes narrowed at the small text at the bottom.
Oftentimes, different flower combinations convey messages. For example, purple hyacinths, forget-me-nots, and white tulips together mean: I know I hurt you, I havenât forgotten, Iâm sorry.
By now, breathing was lost on you and each page you turned made it difficult to do so. You were so confused because the Choi San you had in mind was someone who viewed you as a person he needed for his kingdomâs legitimacy - someone dispensable and someone he didnât need to get to know as a person even though you were going to spend your life with him.
Avalanche Lily: I bow in humility for my mistake.
Snowdrop: I hope for a new beginning with you by my side.
Lavender: I canât stop thinking about you, near or far.
Pink Camellia: I long for you tenderly, and I long to be near you again.
Or so you thought. Now, you didnât know what to think. You thought you knew who San was. A hollow laugh left your throat because all this time, you had mistaken his walls for apathy. San had never been cold - heâd been soft all along. You just havenât learned how to read between the lines yet.
You pressed your lips together, but the sting only grew worse, creeping into the corners of your eyes. You blinked once; twice too late. A tear slipped free, landing on the page. You sucked in a shaky breath, hastily wiping at your face with the back of your hand.
You shut the book, setting it aside to do something youâve never done before - embroidery. That night, you spent the majority of it embroidering Sanâs initials on a small handkerchief, taking the time to be precise and make it look at least decent considering it was your first time doing it.
You didnât know what possessed you. All you knew, the more you sewed, your fondness for San kept growing tenfold. By the time you were done, you had probably pricked your fingers a thousand times, but you smiled, proud of what youâve done, hoping heâd see the beauty in what youâve created, just like he saw the beauty in you when you couldnât even see it in yourself.
You had been contemplating on how you were going to give San the handkerchief that you embroidered. The adrenaline had worn off then and now the thought of giving it to him had you embarrassed all over, anxious whether giving it to him will be too forward.
But you didnât have to think too hard. You were about to head out for a walk when a knock on your doors interrupted your plans. âY-Your Highness,â you breathed out, surprised to see San on the other side. âWhat brings you here?â
For a moment, he didnât answer, just staring at you like he couldnât believe that you actually opened the door for him. His composure was perfect, face emotionless and almost cold, but after that conversation with Yunho, you noticed something immediately - it was the way his gaze flicked away before settling back on you.Â
You wanted to melt into a puddle of endearment then and there especially with how red the tips of his ears were. Oh my goodness, you thought with quiet astonishment. Heâs shy. Heâs so shy and heâs trying to make himself look like heâs not.
âI was wondering,â he cleared his throat. âHoping, if I can ask you for your time again? I would like it if you joined me for tea.â
Well, you certainly werenât expecting that. For a moment, you hesitated, your mind reminding you of that one time you tried to invite him for tea and coldly rejected you. But this time, as you stared at his hopeful face, you couldnât help the butterflies in your tummy. He was trying, he really was, and you could feel it.
âLead the way, Your Grace,â you smiled before you could second guess yourself.
You felt the butterflies multiply when you linked arms with him again as he led you through the halls to one of the smaller dining rooms, opening the door for you before you could reach for them, stopping shortly by the door in awe at what you saw.
The table was beautifully set, but what caught your attention was the large array of tea laid out in neat rows. You looked at him, brows lifting in quiet disbelief.
San cleared his throat, gaze immediately dropping to the floor as if it held something fascinating. âI wasnât sure which you preferred,â he said, straightening his back in an attempt to save face even though the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him. âSo I asked for all of them.â
You had to purse your lips together tightly in order to not laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. âI see,â you chose to say, pulling the chair so you could sit down. âThank you, Your Highââ
âNo, wait, allow me,â he stopped you, gently prying your hand away from the chair so he could pull it for you to sit down. Your cheeks were redder than his by this point. âSan.â
âP-Pardon?â
He sat across you. âPlease, call me San,â he repeated, eyes soft, tone warm. "This might be too much to ask, but will you please do me the honours of letting me hear my name from you?"
He was right - it was too much to ask because you didnât know how to say his name without giving your true feelings away. But his gaze never wavered and he waited patiently like heâd wait forever to hear it from you without demanding it.
âSan,â you said at last, softly, as though speaking it too loudly might break something fragile between you.
The effect was immediate. He tilted his head as he stared at you, face still that same cold, indifferent king that had people trembling with fear at the mere sight of it, but his eyes told a different story. They twinkled, bright and sincere with genuine contentment.
You broke eye contact, afraid you might explode on the spot with how hot you felt, reaching for a random tea blend without even looking to give your hands something to do to distract yourself. You were about to lift the teapot when you felt Sanâs hand lightly stop you.
âLet me do it,â he offered, grabbing the pot to serve the both of you. Your eyes widened, aghast at what you were witnessing. He was the king, for Godâs sake. You were about to protest when he shook his head. âI insist. Please, I want to do this for you.â
âYou truly didnât need to do all this,â you said, though your voice wavered slightly.
âI want to,â San replied simply. âIf it brings you even a moment of comfort, then it was worth it to me.â
As if that wasnât enough, you watched as he put a small dollop of honey in the tea instead of the usual sugar cube. You wanted to cry. Yunho was right all along, San did pay attention more than you thought because you did prefer honey in your tea over sugar. He slid the cup towards you with both hands, watching as you took a sip.
âIs it good?â He asked expectantly. âI hope itâs warm enough and not too sweet.â
You smiled, taking another sip, not missing the way his eyes shone. âItâs perfect.â
The conversation naturally flowed from there, especially now that you knew a little more about San. Whenever he noticed that your plate was almost empty or you were almost done with your cup, he would take it upon himself to refill them for you, all without looking away from you as you talked.
And he listened, truly listened to everything you said as if the words you uttered were the gospel, itself. He was empathetic, too, eyes dropping into something somber when you mentioned the plague that took your parents from you, transforming into respect when you told him how you endured alone before settling your way into Utopia.
âI used to enjoy tea with my parents,â you said absentmindedly. âDo you enjoy tea?â
He stared at you, opting not to reply, but the fondness in his eyes was unmistakably there. He didnât say much, but when he did, itâs like his true goal in life was to leave you breathless. You suddenly remembered what you had in your hand the entire time. Your finger tightened around the handkerchief anxiously. âSan,â you murmured. âI have something for you.â
His brows knit together as you placed the folded handkerchief into his palm. He unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning his initials, tracing them as if they were sacred. He was about to say something, but closed his mouth when he touched the tiny detail you sewed next to it.
He narrowed his eyes to inspect what it was, and when he did, he looked up, eyes wide. Not exactly startled, but in disbelief yet soft and warm in a way youâve never seen before. âAn edelweiss flower,â he murmured. âDo you know what it means?â
You nodded, a serene smile gracing your face. Of course you knew what an edelweiss meant. You had spent countless hours looking for a flower whose meaning you wanted to convey; spent an exorbitant amount of time studying it so you could embroider it neatly onto the cloth.
My feelings match yours and I will brave the cold with you.
For a while, he did nothing, staring at the handkerchief with unreadable eyes, hands tightening around it once or twice as his mind traveled elsewhere. But then, he smiled fully and openly, unable to stop himself. That was probably the moment the world stopped for you, because that smileâŠyou will never forget it for as long as Utopia stood on its grounds.
Without a word, he reached across the table and took your hand, warm and sure, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like it belonged there. He didnât say anything, he didnât need to, as a genuine, helpless smile reached his eyes.
You didnât need to say anything either as your fingers laced with his. Youâve already told him everything you needed to as the both of you sat quietly in the room, letting the tea grow cold, the snow falling gently outside bearing witness upon you two.
Things went back to normal after that, but at the same time, some things have definitely changed between you and San especially after that afternoon tea session.
For one, you had tea with him at least three times a week, most of it because he would literally clear his schedule out just to make time for you. Secondly, and probably that made your heart beat wildly, the flowers never stopped. San would still send one every single day without fail.
You had no idea how he was acquiring them, especially because he had sent some flowers that you knew could not survive the harsh snow of the kingdom, though Yunhoâs exhausted demeanor and tired, sunken eyes should have been an indicator to you.
There were some things whose change was gradual, however. San and you went back to your duties, especially the politically inclined ones. It definitely sent you for a whiplash since you were slowly getting used to the sweetness heâs been showing you lately to the point that you had forgotten how utterly intimidating San was as a king and a ruler.
But the thing that would immediately make you blush that most was when the rare, inopportune moments where he would give you a subtle smile and nod in between those sessions.Â
The change definitely wasnât immediate, but it was there, just like Yunho had said. It wasnât something you noticed on the get go since San had gotten so busy again that you began to assume that he barely noticed you.
But this time, you actually tried to really pay attention like Yunho said because this time, you started to notice that he actually did watch you. And once you noticed it, you couldnât unsee it. Which begged the question - had San always been like this and you were just gullible?
The first instance was when you were with Mingi at one of your classes, San supervising in the background as usual as he did his own work, quill in hand, signing document after document. As Mingi lectured away, something tugged at you. And you didnât mean to do it, but in the soft blur of your peripheral vision, you saw it and your breath hitched.
Because San was already looking at you, quill still in hand. And that was the thing, subconsciously, you knew he had a habit of pausing once in a while, but you didnât know it was because he was watching you.
And it should have unnerved you, especially because he literally stared at you the entire study. His expression was neutral, yet alert as he literally stared at everything you did with that look in his eyes, and he stared long enough that you felt it all the way down your spine.
The second was when you were with Wooyoung when you were looking at a catalogue of some winter apparel since you needed more. As you were fitting in some of them, you noticed a shadow lingering in the reflection of the mirror. San was silent, literally almost invisible if you werenât paying attention, which was how he probably got away with it before.
But there he was, arms folded as he stared at the way the coat hung on your shoulders. You tilted your head curiously, looking back at him and making direct eye contact. Strangely, San looked away, pretending that he wasnât even staring to begin with, eyes drifting to the window to watch the snow outside as if heâs never seen them.
You had to commend the effort. You bit your lip hard, trying not to burst out laughing, but Wooyoung didnât even bother hiding it, laughing so hard that he had to clutch his stomach and lean against the clothing rack for support. âI never thought Iâd see this day come,â he cackled. âOh, that was a tragedy if I ever saw one, my lady. Iâm surprised it took you this long to notice.â
You felt heat rush from your cheeks to your neck. So, apparently, everybody knew San had been fondly watching you from afar all along except for you. âI donât know what you mean,â you squeaked. âSanâuh, His Majesty wasnât staring. Perhaps, just inspecting whatâs proper for me.â
âOf course not,â Wooyoung smirked, eyes dancing. âHis Majesty was simplyâŠdeeply invested in the structural integrity of winter apparel.â
San cleared his throat softly from where he stood near the window. When he turned back, his expression was back to that menacing and domineering one, even shooting Wooyoung a warning look, yet his ears were unmistakably pink.
âThat coat,â he cleared his throat. Before, you would have mistaken it for something that lacked emotion, but now, it was clear that it was restraint. âIt fits you. It keeps the wind out.â
You mumbled your thanks and his gaze lingered a second longer than necessary, soft and fond, before he turned away again, pretending very hard that the snow outside was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.
But the most damning thing was when you were in a council meeting, one that was held in the Great Halls along with the other nobles, both comrades and the usual ones who opposed royalty in general.
San sat on the end of the meeting table while you sat on the far end, the regality dripping off of him effortlessly. He looked distant and dangerous, face painted with so much calm. From the outside, he was the very image of intimidation, the untouchable king straight out of everyoneâs nightmares. Even the ones who loathed royalty kept their voices measured.
But you knew better. Now you did. Because his eyes were on you, measuring and assessing, and no one suspected a thing. It was subtle enough that anyone else wouldâve missed it, but not you. No, never you. You were used to feeling his eyes on you now; craved it at this point, even.
Because how can you not when he held the handkerchief you gave him like it was the only thing that kept him going in this dreaded meeting? Ever since you gave it to him, he never not had it with him. He took it everywhere, displayed it on the breast pocket of his royal garment even if it looked so out of place.Â
âThree deaths in three days. Always the lowest. The poorest of the poor, never the blessed,â Sanâs eyes narrowed, dark and brooding. âWhat does that tell you?â
One councilman shifted. âThat they donât know how to stretch what theyâre given, Your Grace.â
âWrong,â San said flatly without looking at him. âIt tells us that someone is using the food budget for the poor and pocketing them. Shadows donât stay in the dark forever, gentleman. â
You watched as his hand held the handkerchief a little too tightly in his hand to rein his anger in. People often mistook his stillness for indifference. In truth, his mind was racing, trying to figure out what his next response was going to be.
Everybody in the room froze, but not you. Even when San looked like he was about to explode, he still had the handkerchief in his hand and he didnât just hold it - he also adjusted it, smoothing the creases with his thumb. It would have been comical if you werenât so touched.
âHereâs whatâs going to happen,â he began, hand gesturing at each person, the same hand that held the cloth. âCome nighttime, there will be an internal audit of every noble who even breathed in the fundâs direction. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear. If you are notâŠwell.â
His mouth curved, humourless, setting the handkerchief on to the side to brace his hands on the table to lean forward. âYou are going to learn what itâs like to starve under my watch. Just like the people who you had stolen from.â
The councilman nearest to San, however, thought it was a good thing to try and change the topic. âT-Thatâs, uh, quite a fine piece, Your Grace. Unusual for king to keep on hand, though,â he stammered, his hand already reaching for the cloth San had set aside. âMay Iââ
âDonât.â
It was just a word and it made everyoneâs breath still, including yours. A loud thud resonated around the room when Sanâs hand deliberately came down over the cloth. San lifted his gaze then, and whatever lived behind his eyes was cold, sheer, ancient anger.Â
âIf you touch that,â San sneered. âYou will discover how merciful starvation is compared to what Iâll do to you.â
The man recoiled, stuttering apologies, and for a fleeting second, Sanâs eyes met yours. He nodded, a silent reassurance. He folded the handkerchief neatly and tucked it into his coat, close to where his heart would be if he were brave enough to admit thatâs why he put it there.
âMeeting adjourned,â he murmured. âBefore my patience is tested further.â
No one needed to be told twice. You stood up amidst the rush of the people trying to escape Sanâs brewing wrath, but as you do, you felt your dress suddenly getting yanked backwards, gasping softly when your balance faltered, Hongjoong barely able to stop you from falling.
A councilman, one of the few who looked down on your modest background as a farm girl, accidentally stepped on your gown. Irritation flashed on his face and without even apologising, he steps aside, causing your shoe to come undone from your foot to slip a few feet away.
Heat flooded your cheeks. Your gasp had caught peopleâs attention, and by now, everyoneâs eyes were on you. Before you or Wooyoung could bend down to retrieve your shoe, San was already there, hand on your waist. You blinked at how fast he was considering you were far.
âAre you alright?â San whispered tenderly as if the room didnât just witness him almost unleashing his fury earlier.Â
More heat crawled up your face, though this time it was for a different reason. âY-Yes,â you said. âMy shoe, I just need toââ
You couldnât even finish that sentence. San was already kneeling in front of you, your shoe in his hand while the other still steadied you. âSanâYour Grace,â you hissed in mortification, panic creeping in instantly. âPlease, get up, this is embarrassing. Y-You donât have toâŠâ
Your sentence died in your throat when San looked up at you, a slight smile on his face, expression soft in a way only you will ever get to witness. âI want to,â he reassured in spite of the way the room silenced at the exchange between you two.
Because the Choi San was on his knees. The King of Utopia was kneeling. Your head spun as you watched him brushed away the imaginary dust on your shoe before guiding it back on your foot, touch gentle and almost reverent like you were worthy of lowering himself for.Â
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the room. One scandalised councilman spoke out. âY-Your Grace,â he stammered, incredulous. âThis is unbecoming of you. A-Are you doing what we think youâre doing?â
San raised a brow, turning his head slightly. âYes,â he replied as he adjusted your shoe, ensuring it fit comfortably before rising to stand again, arm snaking around your waist and pulling you close. âDoes anyone have a problem with that?â
No one answered - no one dared to. You stared at San, tears threatening to fall from your eyes at what he had just done. This wasnât some sort of show to assert his dominance in court, this was a deliberate message he was sending to everybody who was here to witness it.
You were to be respected. You were to be protected. You were his future queen. You were his future wife and you were utterly his. It was strong, because Sanâs words were the law and they were absolute. If the nobles defied this unwritten rule, theyâll get whatâs coming for them.
Your heart swelled painfully as San glanced back at you, his expression still hard and fearsome, but his eyes, his eyes always told you a different story. You couldnât help the genuine smile that crossed your face as he led you out, because you were more than alright.Â
It wasnât that you were treated badly to begin with, but ever since that day in the meeting room, you could tell that everybody looked at you differently. It wasnât anything remarkable and you would have missed it if you werenât looking up close.
The thing that made it obvious to you was that it didnât come from the people who already knew you; it came from the nobles that used to oppose you. Every time you passed them, they all had varying looks of respect, uncertainty, and acceptance. There was no in between. It was odd.
âIs it wrong that this feels more unsettling than outright disdain?â You chuckled while you were having tea with San again, sipping on the tea he had chosen for you this time.
He hummed, not really replying immediately, but you caught it - the tiny smile he tried not to show when you closed your eyes and sighed in contentment after that sip. âWhen youâre used to something, the change might be unsettling at first,â he said, words wise yet concise.
âI would suppose so,â you whispered quietly. You knew he heard you considering that he was seated close to you. Now that you think about it, the more tea sessions you have, the closer he keeps sitting towards you. You definitely werenât complaining.
Tea times with San were the highlight of your day. The both of you didnât even do much, just basked in each otherâs presence, but it was peaceful and it just felt right. San still didnât talk much, his face still dark and indiscernible, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer, almost fond with adoration.
The air around him wasnât any lighter, but it was gentler, and they became warmer the moment his eyes would meet yours. He poured the tea himself, adjusted the cup so the handle faced you, nudged a small plate of sweets closer without saying anything. His facade never broke, expression still carved in stone, but his actions always said otherwise.
Every so often, his gaze would drift to the window, where the snow had begun to fall just a little faster than usual. Nothing alarming, just enough to notice. His jaw would tighten once in a while but every single time, he would turn his undivided attention back to you.
The contrast would make your chest ache both with warmth and something you couldnât name yet because even when the world outside unsettled him, he always turned back to you.
Until he didnât, and the snow began falling at a rate so alarming, no one even dared to look at the windows for fear that the snow would swallow the entire palace this time. Tea times lessened and San would look more fatigued, more worn down somehow that you actually had started to worry if he was going to get sick.
The thought of him being in that position again where he could barely help himself. You didnât even want to think about it. Today was one of those days where San had to cancel tea with you and you were left in your room, staring at the snow from your windows falling at a troubling rate.
It was one of those things that unfortunately, you couldnât do anything about. Such was the curse of Utopia. That is, until you noticed the situation from beyond - the servants getting sick from the cold, worries from other good nobles of commoners passing from severe frostbite, vendors having to pause their livelihood from the severe storm.
You had to do something about it. One good thing that came out of San's fondness of you was that when it came to politics, he actually listened to you, took your points into consideration in what to do even if heâd end up doing something else along the way.
âYou are my soon-to-be wife,â heâd say. âMy other half and the half of the kingdomâs future, not some ornament hanging beside me. I also reckon two brains are better than one.â
It was how you found yourself being led by Jongho to the meeting room, the same one San defended you from. You were about to enter when Jonghoâs arm shot up in front of you in alarm, distress clear on his face.
âW-Whatâs the matter?â You asked, now worried as well.
Jongho put his finger on his lips, using his other hand to push the door open very, very carefully, and you immediately understood why. Now, youâve never heard San raise his voice before, but you wish you never did.
âY-Your Majesty,â one of the few good and brave nobles, stood near San, with a pleading look in his eyes. âIt is for the best, look at our kingdom, itâs buried in snow. If we donât give herââ
âNo,â San snarled, both hands slamming against the table with abnormally inhuman strength. The sound echoed violently, nothing like the controlled authority you were used to. âI said no.â
âBut, Your Grace, the snow will swallow Utopia wholeââ
âHeed our request, sire. This is what Lady Y/N is here forââ
âIt is for the greater good, one sacrifice for the greater good of the entire kingdomââ
Several nobles spoke at once, but San wasnât having it. His shoulders were tense, breath heavy, until he couldnât take it anymore. âEnough!â He growled, swiping everything on the table down to the floor. âEnough. I do not want to hear it, I refuse to hear any of it.â
Nothing was left untouched in his fury -Â scrolls clattered, ink spilled, quills broke. The room went deathly silent. Even Jongho didnât dare breathe beside you, and you couldnât even begin to think why you kept being mentioned in the conversation.
âThis is non-negotiable, do you hear me?â San snapped, voice raising another octave as he was hunched over the table. âIf I see any of you attempt to even touch a hair on her headâŠif I hear any of you so much as talk about doing itâŠâ
He paused, chest heaving in the severity of his own anger, a deep, unsettling laugh crawling up his chest. âI will end you. I will erase your bloodline. I will kill you.â
The threat, itself, shouldâve made you nervous, but something else made your heart pound, instead - Sanâs entire arm and neck area. Dark, cursed branches of blackened veins creeped from his hands, all the way to his arms and neck area, spread across like a rotten disease. The same ones you saw on his chest one time.
An involuntary gasp leaves you, prompting San to turn his head towards you, and you stopped breathing completely when you saw his eyes. They were dark - literally and figuratively. They were entirely black, no whites left as darkness seemed to swallow both his eyes. And they were now staring at you.
When San realised it was you, however, his anger seemed to vanish instantly. When he blinked, his eyes were back to normal and only the branches on his skin remained. âY/N,â he exhaled, uttering your name out like it was the only thing he needed to breathe at the moment.
Suddenly, San begins coughing, normally at first before they turn into worrying wheezes that had Yunho, who you didnât even notice was in the room, swiftly striding across the room to pat him on the back. âSan, calm down, please,â he placated. âThe snowâs already weakeningââ
âTake over,â San cut off, harshly pushing the mageâs hand away, as he made his way straight towards you, gesturing to a rigid Jongho. âCall Seonghwa. The three of you take over me.â
You didnât protest when he grabbed your hand and led you out of the room. You certainly didnât protest when he started leading you to his chambers, temporarily letting go of your hand to open a door on the far side of his room to reveal a narrow staircase. And you trusted him.
That trust turned out to be well-deserved when you realised that you were on top of a tower, overlooking the entire kingdom, but that wasnât what starstruck you - it was the stars above, beautiful twinkles of faraway clusters that overlooked and saw everything.
San didnât say anything, just leaning over the balcony. All you could do was stare at him - the darkened branches that littered his hands and arms, the unreadable look on his face that was scrunched deep in thought, the way the locket around his neck glowed and pulsated wildly brighter than the stars. You could even feel heat emanate from it from where you stood.
You didnât realise that you were lost in thought, not until you were enveloped in Sanâs scent, felt the warmth of fur and wool wrapped around your shoulders as he draped his coat all over your shivering body. âSan,â you started, fisting the coat closer. âYouâre going to get cold.â
He shook his head, snowflakes falling from his hair as he did so. âI donât get cold,â he murmured, pointing at the locket. âYou were staring at this, it prevents me from feeling chills,â he explained, voice tilting in amusement. You were about to touch it, but he held your hand to stop it, alarm on his face. âDonât,â he quickly said. âJustâŠdonât.â
âWhy?â You bravely asked.
He didnât answer. Instead, he wrapped the locket around his fists and you saw in real time how the curse on his skin started to slowly disappear. You were rendered mum. You had so many questions, so many things you wanted to know, so much information you knew you were missing, and a lot of anxiety over being left behind on a secret you knew you had no right to.
In a blink of an eye, the wind and the snow died. It stopped so suddenly that it gave you a whiplash. It wasnât normal, you knew it wasnât, especially when San didnât even look the least surprised about it. If anything, he looked relieved, like he was expecting it to happen, even.
And then, he coughed, his chest heaving at the force of his cough. Your eyes widened a little when you watched a thin trail of blood slipped from his nose, widening a bit more when San barely reacted, just wiping it with the back of his hand. âS-San,â you whispered.
âI know,â he replied calmly, almost tired. His gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, unbothered by the unnatural stillness around you. âIt happens when I push too far.â
Push what?
The question burned on your tongue - the snow, the curse, the locket. You opened your mouth to speak, but he didnât let you. âDo you think,â he interrupted suddenly, voice low, âThat I am doing the right thing?â
You blinked, stunned at the sudden, albeit clever, diversion. âWhat do you mean, San?â
Your heart broke for him. There was no king to be found in Sanâs eyes. He was just a man who looked impossibly tired. âThis. All of this,â he lifted his hand, gesturing at the entirety of the kingdom. âWhat if all of this was for naught? That Iâm failing my own people with my own bare hands without meaning to?â
âNo, youâre not,â you answered quickly. âYou canât do this to yourself, San. You canât fault yourself for the unpredictable. Sometimes, things donât work out the way we want them to and thatâs alright because thatâs out of your hands.â
He turned to look at you then, really looked at you, and scoffed good-naturedly in disbelief, like what he was seeing in you was too good to be true. âIâve thought of abdicating,â he confessed. âMany times. That, perhaps, Utopia would be better off without me.â
You didnât say anything right away; you couldnât, because what could you possibly say to that? âThereâs no right answer,â you finally replied. âNo one has the right to fault you for doing what you thought was right at the moment. The only thing we can do is hope for the best.â
Sanâs jaw tightened. âYouâre,â he breathed out, stepping closer, snaking his hand around your waist, trembling as if he was trying to stop himself from doing something. âInsane.â
You swallowed, heat traveling on your skin, training your eyes on his locket so you wouldnât see the way his eyes darkened. âYouâre a good king, San,â you said honestly, steadying your voice.
âHow so?â San rasped, his voice deepening in timbre, rattling your core.
âDo you remember the first time we met? That day in the throne room?â You asked, trying hard not to waver as you felt yourself being pulled flush onto Sanâs chest.Â
âOf course, I do,â he hummed, tucking your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering behind your neck. You shivered at the sensation. âI could never, ever forget that day. Why?â
âBecause you knew I wasnât from around here,â you answered like it was obvious. He frowns, confused. âYou knew I wasnât from Utopia because you care about your people, so much so that you remember all of them well enough to know that Iâm not one of your subjects.â
He clings on to you just like you were clinging on to the sound of his heavy breathing. Your faces were so close to each other's; one wrong step and your lips would meet. Time was at a standstill. You could drown in him and you'd never want to rise again.Â
His hand on your waist had your heart thudding against your ribcage, and you never realized how empty your chest was, how deep it really was, until you were this close to him. "Y/N," he whispered, his breath laboured and shaky. His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly. "God, help me..."
There was no way you were meeting his eyes right now. He was right here close to you, so close, doing what he was doing and you letting him do it, and just leaning towards it. His hand held your chin and gently lifted it forward to meet his eyes. You bit your lips in apprehension and his eyes followed the movement. You knew you were done for when he mirrored you.
"W-What are you doing, San? Woah, this is dangerous," you stammered when you felt him back you up on the edge of the balcony. âI might fall.â
"Don't worry. I'll catch you when you fall."
Your heart felt heavy. "I believe it," you whispered, voice so small you weren't sure if he heard it.
But he did. The way he looked at you, how could you hold back from wanting to kiss him? If you leaned forward, you could capture his lips easily. "Donât look at me like that," he begged, his voice between a plea and a demand. "I don't want to be reading this wrong right now, please."Â Â
"I don't know what to say," you squeaked. "It's not that easyâ"
"I can make it easy for you," he said, his voice dropping an octave. You watched as he took the locket off, throwing it haphazardly on the ground. You watched him grimace in slight pain at parting with the locket, but he didnât seem to care. "I need you to kiss me."
He didnât give you a chance to reply. San immediately steals your breath out of you. He captures your lips in a kiss so deep, his chest comes crashing with yours and you had to hold onto him for support. You fervently kissed him back, tilting your head as your breaths mingled. When you start moving with him, he sighed in relief and you couldn't help but do so as well.Â
San kissed like he needed you to breathe and live. You could barely catch up, but you kiss him anyway. He brings a hand around your waist and the other behind your head to keep you close to make sure you were really here, like this heated kiss wasn't enough.
It was so easy to lose yourself in the kiss, after all, this was San. Your hands found their way on his head, your fingers slowly entangling themselves on his hair. You felt a bit bold, the rush of the kiss fueling you on. A low growl sounds from the back of his throat before he pulls away, sealing his lips on your neck, instead, to give it little kisses and kitten licks.
You felt his hands roam over your sides, going higher and higher until you felt them stop on your chest area. And when he cups both of your tits in his hands through your clothes, you couldnât help the airy moan that escapes your lips. âTell me to stop,â he breathes through your skin.
All you could do was helplessly whimper when you felt his teeth graze your earlobes, his hands toying with your top. And that was all he needed to know before he began to lower your sleeves, pushing your top down to expose your nipples that automatically hardened when the cold air hit them and he wastes no time touching them.
âSo sensitive,â he chuckled, his fingers plucking at your nipples. âI've always wondered how these would feel. Would drive me mad whenever I thought about it. â
You choke back another moan when he rubs his thumbs over the stiffening nubs. âA-Ah,â you gasped. âI've never noticed you lookingâŠâ
San responds by pinching a little harder. âBut, I was,â he said, relishing the way your face twisted in pleasure as his hand started to massage your inner thighs. âFrom the moment Yunho brought you inâŠGod, you were a vision, Y/N. Why did you think it took me a while to decide if I should take you as my bride?â
San takes one of your nipples into his mouth. âI wasnât thinking about Utopia,â he said, tongue encircling your nubs as his other hand started to lower your undergarments. âI was imagining all the ways I would take you. Imagining how I would bend you over my throne and take you right there and then.â
Something explodes inside you at that revelation. âPlease,â you beg, not really even know what you were begging for. âPlease, San, I want you.â
He hummed, the vibration traveling straight through you. He released your nipple, giving it one last lick before he started to lift your dress, about to kneel, when you stopped him. âH-Hold on,â you stammered, slightly scandalised. âS-San, here? W-What if someone sees?â
He smirked dirtily. You faltered, you had never seen such an expression on Sanâs face. It was obscene. It was everything. He doesnât respond, bunching your dress up in his hand and pushing them to you, making you grab it, before throwing your leg up on his shoulder as he kneeled down. You gasped, holding onto the balcony for dear life.
His eyes were locked on you, a predatory grin on his lips as he watched your mouth open to let out a silent scream when his latches on your inner thigh, sucking on the sensitive skin. It was painful, very much so. âS-San,â you moaned out, feeling pleasure at the same time, pushing his head away in a poor attempt to halt him. âStop, it hurtsââ
âDoes it?â He tilted his head sarcastically, clenching his teeth on your skin.
âY-Yesââ
âGood.â
That seemed to spur him on, the pain scrunching up your face as he sucked even harder, almost drawing blood to the area before moving on to the other thigh. Something about the pain triggers you, and before you knew it, you were pushing his head in, coaxing him to bite and suck harder to the point that the pain was more pleasurable than torturous.
âSay it,â he chuckled darkly, marking you, bruising your entire thigh area over and over again. âSay youâre mine or I stop.â
âN-No,â you sobbed, pushing your thighs together to keep his head in. âDonât stop, please.â
And he laughs, sadistically so, his fingers tracing the slick folds of your pussy. âWho knew youâd be a pain slut? Just my luck. Look at you, already so wet for me,â he growled, rough and low, teasing your entrance before he pushed a finger in, making you gasp and clench around him.
Your hands slap your mouth shut, trying your best to prevent the lewd moans that threaten to slip past your lips. âYou can be loud. Itâs okay. Weâre alone out here. No oneâs going to hear you,â he reassured, not bothering to slow his fingers down. Let go, Y/N. I want to hear you.â
He thrusts his fingers faster to prove a point, obscene wet sounds filling in the entire space along with your breathy moans. âGod, youâre dripping wet,â he groaned, his fingers plunging deeper to reach that spot that had you screaming out loud. âI bet you want my cock in here. To stretch this greedy little pussy and make you completely mine, donât you?â
You arched your back, weak to his onslaughts, the thigh on top of his shoulder shaking helplessly. âSan, p-please, that feels so good,â you whimpered.
"Fuck, listen to that," he murmured, the squelching sounds growing louder as he worked you relentlessly. "Your cunt's making such filthy noises. It's begging to cum, isn't it? Go on, soak my hand. Show me what a slut you are for this."
And you could feel it, your orgasm building slowly. âLet me help you out, hmm? Let me,â was all you heard before your vision completely blacked out. You felt Sanâs tongue flat on your clit, his fingers curling inside you as he laps you up, his tongue stroking your clit over and over again.
All you could do was scream, focusing on that tingly feeling on your abdomen the same time San kept alternating between pumping you with his fingers and his tongue swirling on your clit, slurping dirtily every time your drooling pussy would occasionally squirt on his face, just taking it all in, greedily swallowing your slick.
With a cry, you shattered all over Sanâs face, blubbering nonsense and begging at the same time as you clenched all over his fingers, all while he talked you through it. âThatâs it, thatâs my girl. Cum for me, yes.â
You panted heavily, the force of your orgasm literally rocking you. San withdrew his fingers, carefully letting your legs down, before grabbing the back of your head, forcefully stealing a bruising kiss from you, his teeth clashing angrily with yours. He pulls your head back, twice the force and effort, that it had your neck snapping backwards.
âKneel,â he demanded. Your knees thudded on the floor, as he shoved his pants down, his thick cock springing freely in front of you. It was veiny, the tip already leaking with so much precum. âOpen that filthy mouth for me,â he snarled, fisting his cock to slap it against your cheek.
You did as told, leaning forward to take the entirety of his cock in your mouth, but San had other plans. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, gripping it so tightly that the shock of it forced your mouth to open even wider, and that was when he rammed his cock in your mouth without warning.
âOh, fuck,â he moaned low in his throat, pulling on your hair so hard that it had tears pricking your eyes. The pain only made you clench, and your tears made San thrust harder. âThis is what youâre made for. I own every holes you have that I can fuck.â
You felt the tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag, but he didnât stop. You had to hold on to his thigh for balance, your saliva dripping pathetically from the corners of your mouth, as he fucked your mouth violently, not stopping and forcing you to take every inch of him. The brutal pace makes your throat burn and tears start streaming down your eyes.
âThatâs it, fuck,â San growled ferally, grabbing your hair to pull you back enough to inhale air before slamming back in. âChoke on it, get used to your jaw being stretched out. God, look at you. Your throatâs so fucking tightâŠâ
You struggled to breathe, throat sore, but he only fucked harder, his balls slapping on your chin with each thrust. Your efforts seemed to spur him on and he pushed your head deeper until your nose hit his pubic bone. Your eyes widened, letting out a sound between a whimper and a groan, and you retched around him. You could tell he was loving every second of this.
The sounds of your struggles, your nails digging helplessly on his skin, combined with the lewd slurps of your mouth sucking his cock unleashes something in San. His thrusts grew erratic, grunts turning almost animalistic, and the roughness of him mouth-fucking you just made your pussy throb, aching to be used by the same cock abusing your throat.
âIâm gonna cum, just stay like thatâfuck,â San held you still, cock buried to the hilt, as his cum explodes down your throat, pulling away just in time so he could mark your tear-stained face with more cum. He stepped back, admiring how absolutely ruined you looked.
And you stayed kneeling, mouth open as cum began to spill from your mouth, looking up at him reverently in a daze. You were about to close your mouth to swallow, but San stops you, wrapping a hand around your throat. âAh, ah, ah, you naughty girl,â he said, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. âI didnât give you permission to swallow. Get up.â
He squeezed your throat, guiding you up as he held it. Your eyes widened in surprise, holding onto his arms all while his cum was still in your mouth. âMmph,â you let out in panic when he squeezes. You couldnât breathe even through your nose, but thab tâs exactly what San wanted.
âGo on,â he taunted, effectively cutting off your air supply with one strong squeeze of your throat. âTake a deep breath. Choke.â
You couldnât take it anymore. You gagged, coughing and choking violently on his cum. Filthy, disgusting gurgling sounds of his thick semen filled the air along with his mocking laugh. âFuck, yes,â he sneered, fingers scooping the remnants of his cum that was scattered all over your face along with the ones dribbling on your neck back in your mouth. âGurgle my fucking cum, yes.â
It was hellish, almost. The feeling of Sanâs cum going down but getting stopped halfway every time he squeezes your neck had you gurgling pitifully on it. You were starting to get a little dizzy from the lack of air, lightheaded from the restriction Sanâs hand had on your throat. You could feel your eyes rolling from the back of your head and it was when San let go.
Your legs buckled at the sudden rush of air to your head, knees thudding back down the floor as cum spilled out from your mouth, chest heaving as you panted hard. You barely felt yourself being lifted up. âShh, youâre fine. Deep, easy breaths for me,â San soothed, wiping his stickiness off of you with the sleeves of his shirt. âJump.â
You didnât even process what he said, your body automatically doing it before your mind could follow. San caught you, your legs locking on his waist as your hands wrapped around his neck while his hands steadied you at your ass to keep you from falling. âGood girl,â he murmured.
His dark eyes locked onto yours and the way he gazed up at you with so much emotion and adoration behind the lust, like you were his entire world, sent shivers up your spine. San leaned in, tenderly compared to his brutal onslaught earlier, but you turned your head, avoiding his kiss. âSan,â you croaked. âM-My mouth has your cuââ
A low growl rumbled from his throat. âI donât give a fuck, don't you dare pull away from me,â he snarled, his voice laced with possessive fire. âYouâre mine, Y/N, cum and all. Every inch of you belongs to me. Kiss me or so God help you for what Iâm about to do to you if you donât.â
Before you could protest, his hands cupped your cheeks with rough urgency, thumbs pressing into your jaw to force your face back to his. The kiss was filthy, dominant, and possessive. You melted into it, your core clenching with arousal at how he owned you completely.
You felt his hardness poking your hole, making you squirm, but San held you tight, holding you up with just one arm in an incredible show of strength. âIâm not done with you,â he said, lining himself up. âIâm going to fuck you now, alright? Hold on tight.â
You threw your head back as the both of you moaned the moment San breached you, not even bothering to ease it in and completely burying himself up to the hilt. He moved slowly at first, trying to find a comfortable position as he pulled you down a bit so he could thrust up in you.
âOh, youâre so tight like this,â he groaned. His words made you clench, a feral snarl sounding at the back of his throat as his fingers dug into your ass as you did so.
He was lifting you by the ass and dropping you down and all you could do was bite the flesh of his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming. Sanâs self control was slipping, especially when the next bounce had him bucking his hips just as he dropped you onto his cock. Soon enough, he was pistoning roughly in you, the sounds of your ass slapping against his thighs obscene.
âSan, a-ah, S-San, mmm,â you keened, your tits bouncing wildly as he filled you up with speed and force behind each thrust.
And just as he was wildly fucking into you up and and down his cock, he suddenly paused, a low growl vibrating from his chest. You were confused, but then, he kissed you again, this time, devouring you as you felt him walk, carrying you back inside as he climbed down the stairs into his chambers all while he was still inside you.
He still didnât pull out as he sat down on the bed, taking off his shirt to get completely naked, laying down and positioning you on top of him while you were still dressed up. San looked up at you expectantly and you tried riding him, but your legs were jelly, already exhausted. He narrowed his eyes at your poor attempt at taking his cock.
âTired already? I barely even started,â he scoffed, slapping your tits, making you whimper. He smirked as beads of sweat started to roll from his forehead down to his chin. His hoarse voice betrayed his pleasure, his grip on your hips getting tighter. âCome on, give it to me. Show me how much you want this cock.â
You bit your lip and sucked on it in anticipation. San raised his eyebrows at your refusal to move even though he could see how red your face was from all the work. "Don't play with me, Y/N. It's not a good idea," his fingers dug on your skin even harder and you were pretty sure it would leave marks the next day. "Move."
"S-San, please, I canât," you pathetically whimpered.Â
His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits before he lifted you by the waist and then roughly slammed you down, effectively impaling you on his cock. You screamed out loud when you felt him hit that sweet spot. "San, please," you whimpered, your shaking hands finding their place on his toned chest.
You felt him tense underneath from your touch, it made his cock twitch inside you and you couldn't help but bite your cheek in the pleasurable sensation. All of a sudden, San grabs the top of your dress, and with a sharp tug, rips it open, a satisfying rip echoing in the quiet room. You were sure you looked insane - a ripped top with your skirt still on.
âFigured this would help,â he laughed darkly. You gasped when he suddenly grabbed your shoulder and pulled you down. "Now fuck me, and you better fuck me good or you're not getting up from this bed."Â
You whimpered when he grabbed a handful of your hair and roughly turned your head towards his to capture your lips in a rougher kiss while his other hand firmly held your ass and pushed it down to deepen his cock inside you. "San, yes, you feel so good i-inside me," you moaned out after he had driven deeper in you, head swimming in pleasure.
âYouâre so cock dumb that you need my help fucking this dick, huh?â San mocked, his own moans mirroring yours as he guided your hips back and forth.
Your answer was another breathy moan. You were growing lax in his grip, just letting San do whatever he pleased. Nothing was stopping him now from jamming his cock into your pussy and every thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, but she still found the ability to scream out.
âThis pussy is mine to use, yeah? Look at you, so tired but still taking my cock so well.â He palms your tits, his possessive gaze locked onto your pleasure-filled face. âGod, youâre all mine, Y/N. Mine. Donât stop now, youâre doing me so well.â
The feel of him, the scent of him, how deep you felt for him, just himâŠit was so overwhelming. And San can see it, the exhausted haze in your eyes as he fucked up at you. With a low grunt, he wraps his arms around your waist and flips you over in one fluid motion, pinning you on the mattress, your legs spread wide for him to admire.
You whined when he pulled out, slowly taking all of your clothes off until you were left bare and nude for him. You flushed red in embarrassment, but that soon turned into something when you saw the look in Sanâs eyes as he paused, drinking the sight of your naked body.
The way his gaze roamed your entire form with softness and tenderness left you breathless. Tears pricked behind your eyes at the way he lightly trails his hands all over you, reverence clear in his touch. His thumb swipes your tears away, his eyes shining with devotion that cut through the lust, adoration swelling in his chest until it physically aches him.
âYouâre beautiful. So, so beautiful, Y/N. Youâre the best thing thatâs ever happened to me,â he murmured, roughly but tenderly. He cups your face gently, savouring the vulnerability as if owning you felt like the deepest and greatest honour for him. âYouâre soâŠGod, fuck, I donât know what to say. I just want toâŠâ
His tenderness can only last so long. He shifts forward, gripping your thighs to spread them wider and without warning, slams his hips forward, burying his cock back in you in one brutal thrust that makes your back arch off the bed. âOh, God, San,â you moaned out. âS-Sanââ
âThatâs it, take me. Take all of it,â he snarled, pulling out almost fully before ramming back in, the wet slap of your bodies echoing. He pounds into you relentlessly, balls slapping against your ass with each drive, leaning in to kiss you passionately.
He pulled away so you could both inhale once. It only took one look in each other's eyes before you were both tangled into each other once more. It felt good - it felt comforting like you were getting embraced by some unforeseen grace and wrapped you in its bosom even though you felt like his cock was about to split you into two.
You tense, mouth gaping open when San bites and marks your collarbone. âSan,â you cried. âMmm, t-too much.â
âTell me how my thick cock ruins you, how you crave to be bred,â he panted. You tighten around him to an alarming degree and you feel him smirk against your skin. âOh? You like that? Want me to breed you?â
âYes, San, yes,â you gasped, arching your back. âI-I want you to b-breed me, please.â
âThen I'll fill you up, mark you inside out, until you can't walk without feeling me.â
Itâs all you can do to claw at his back, relishing the feel of his cock pumping into you. Every time San thrusts, he grunts, every roll of his hips into yours hits that spot inside that makes you see stars. And you just take it, because this was San. Youâd do anything for San.
You grabbed his face so he could look at you. "Cum inside me," you were breathless, but it was like you stole his breath with how his cock seemed to harden even more inside you, if that was possible.
Sanâs eyes visibly darkened and he started pounding into you wildly. It was hard enough to make the bed creak obnoxiously as his cock plunges into you even deeper than before. Mindblowing pleasure started to ignite your insides, blanking your mind as your screams went up a pitch, cumming around his cock.
âFuck, Iâm gonna cum, Y/N, fuck,â he gritted his teeth, groaning lowly as you felt the warm gush of his cum spurt inside you. You could feel his cock pulsing, and with a few last desperate thrust of his hips, he was finally sated.
He collapsed on top of you as you both panted, riding out your highs. You felt him give your skin little kisses here and there, all while he stroked your hair repeatedly like some sort of mantra. âY/N,â youâd hear him whisper reverently. âOh, my Y/N. My sweet, sweet Y/NâŠâ
He rolls off of you, making you groan as you feel warm liquid gush from your pussy, one that he silently wipes off with a wet towel before laying down next to you, scooping you up carefully so you could rest your head on the crook of his shoulder. You stay like that for a while, just basking in the afterglow, when San suddenly breaks the silence.
âDo you really like Utopia?â He asked, almost idly like an afterthought.
You blinked in surprise, not expecting such a random question. âOf course I do.â
âHow much?â His gaze finally found yours. âEnough to fight for it? Enough to lead it, if one day you had to?â
Your heart stuttered inside your chest, but you chalked it up as nothing. After all, sex sometimes made people think of hypothetical scenarios and you decided to humour San with this one. âYes,â you answered honestly. âUtopia needs someone to love it even though itâs cruel.â
He exhaled, visible relief loosening in his shoulder, his lips curved faintly. âPerhaps,â he murmured, kissing your forehead lightly. âYou might be the queen Utopia actually needs.â
San had disappeared. Vanished into thin air the next day.
When you woke up the next day, you were completely alone, Sanâs side of the bed gone cold. You didnât think anything of it, he had duties as king and he couldnât just stay in bed for you all day, but when got back to your chambers with a worried Wooyoung and a panic-stricken Hongjoong arguing with Jongho about Sanâs whereabouts, it was when your entire world fell.
âThere is no way Your Grace would do that,â Jongho pressed, walking back and forth in the throne room, anger in his tone, dismay and doubt on his face at each passing second. âHe just went for a ride. Thatâs all. Sometimes he does that after the curseââ
âJongho, itâs been over half a day,â Hongjoong insisted, irritated at the taller man as he raised his voice up a notch, making you flinch. âHell, the fucking mage doesnât even know where he is. He did not go for a ride and you know it.â
âSo, what?â Jongho yelled back, the usually composed adviser slowly losing his cool. âAre you telling me that His Majesty ran away? Is that it? Are you even hearing yourself?â
You took a step back, dread filling your entire chest. Just the night before, you had laughed softly at his questions, brushing them off as speculation, never once suspecting that his questions werenât meant to be hypothetical at all. You quickly ran off, ignoring how Hongjoong kept calling you back and pleading for you to stay put. You needed to get out of there.
The entire palace was in shambles, the servants and nobles all scrambling but failing to contain themselves at the thought of their missing king. Some of them were genuinely worried for San, but there were a select few who feared of the said curse completely annihilating the kingdom now that San was missing.
You didnât heed any of them, worriedly looking for San even in the most obscure of places. Your panic rose every time you were met with an empty room, holding back tears as you imagined all the worst possible ways of what might have happened while you were asleep. You probably looked pathetic, but you didnât care. All you wanted was to see San again.
An idea pops in your head. Yunho. Having no other options left, you quickly ran to the mageâs quarters, not caring how unladylike you looked as you sprinted down the hall. He didnât even notice you come in as he was speaking urgently to Seonghwa, his expression grim. When Yunho noticed you, whatever composure he had shattered.
He quickly dismissed Seonghwa and ran towards you. The poor man was so distressed, sunken bags of purple splotching his skin, whatever magic in him getting sapped little by little by how much effort he was putting in finding his king and your eyes fell, feeling for the man. âYunho,â you breathed out. âA-Are you alright?â
Your chest wanted to cave in itself, panic clawing further up your skin. If magic cannot even reach San, then what will? âI-I was with him last night,â you swallowed, spitting the admittance out even if it embarrassed you so.Â
Yunho puts two and two together, brows shooting up in surprise, but chose not to comment on what you were trying to tell him, and you were thankful about it. You told him everything, minus the sexual details - Sanâs insecurities about being king, him thinking about abdicating at one point, all the way to the questions about you leading Utopia if the time came.
Yunho swore under his breath, a sharp, uncharacteristic sound. âDamn it,â he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. âIt might be the curse.â
âI need to know, Yunho. I think Iâve held off for far too long,â you pleaded, eyes burning. Yunho looked hesitant, but you pressed on. âIâve respected your silence as an elder, respected San as the authority, and I respected Utopia as a whole since Iâm not of this land and maybe I didnât have the right to know. Please. Tell me. I need to know, Iâm begging you.â
Something in your face must have touched something deep in the mage, and finally, he gives a slow nod. He exhaled heavily, shoulders sagging like the weight of centuries had finally caught up to him. âYouâre going to need to sit for this one,â he murmured, gesturing towards a chair.
You didnât need to be told twice. âItâs a long story,â he sighed, bringing his palms up, a small glow of light emanating from it, to touch your forehead as you felt yourself being transported into a memory. âWhile I cannot tell you, I could show you. Close your eyes.â
The world tilted on its axis. At first, you were confused because you saw a castle, a very familiar looking one at that and it was when it hit you - it was Utopia, only this time, there was no snow. It was lush and green, alive and well. You quickly realised that this was Utopia far before the snow started to swallow the kingdom, long before it had turned inhabitable.
And on the front of the castle grounds was a man in armour, standing proudly over an anguished woman, screaming at the top of her lungs in despair as she cradled the bloody body of another man who had long passed, her grief so raw that it split the sky open.
You gasped in horror at what you were witnessing, even more so when you looked closer. The man in the armour, he looked like San, only this one was far younger, and his eyes; they were unkind. Psychopathic, almost, not capable of empathy as he embellished the blood-soaked sword he had presumably used to slay the now dead man on the ground.
âYou killed him,â she mourned, her tears falling in torrents, voice breaking as her blood soaked hands tried hard to seal the fatal wound, but to no avail. âYou killed him, you monster!â
But the cruel man didnât care. He didnât say anything, just watched with wild, possessive eyes. You gasped when the woman looked up, her eyes glowing red in fury, the magic exploding from her so strong that even you could feel it from this memory.
âMay your kingdom know only the cold that took him from me,â she seethed. She rose slowly to her feet, and when she stood fully, her magic surged again, this time, stronger and final.
For the first time, the man in armor reacted. âWhat are you doing?â He barked, stepping forward with unease as the temperature dropped around him. You watched in horror as a sudden blizzard filled the entire space and palace. âStop, you cannotââ
âMay your bloodline rot beneath endless snow,â she cried. You felt it, the cold slamming into you as snow immediately blanketed the kingdom of Utopia. âOnly when a heart as warm and pure as his enters willingly and claims the throne and be claimed in return will the winter break.â
Then the vision shattered. You gasped, eyes flying open, Yunhoâs hand still resting against your forehead, his expression heavy with regret. âW-What was that?â You blurted out in disbelief at what you just saw. âWho was that? H-He looks like San, who was that woman?â
âHe does, because that was Sanâs father,â Yunho sighed, panting to catch his breath from all the energy he exerted. âThere was a beautiful forest witch who lived in the woods that he saw hunting once. He immediately fell in love with her, or rather, obsessed. It was disgusting, Sanâs mother died from heartbreak when San was only a newborn.â
Yunho dragged his hands down his face in defeat. âIt was greed in its coldest form. The witchâs heart already belonged to someone else, and in a jealous rage, Sanâs father killed him. In front of her, no less. Itâs why Utopiaâs cold and desolate. The snow is a manifestation of her grief.â
âAnd when the former king died, that cruel bastard,â Yunho continued, his voice rough. âThe curse didnât fadeâŠit passed. San absorbed it instantly.â
Your chest tightened, stomach twisting into something painful as your nails dug into your palms. âI-I donât understand,â you uttered. âWhat do you mean it passed? Are you telling me thatâŠâ
You trailed off, not even wanting to continue. May your bloodline rot beneath endless snow. The words were still clear in your head like a ringing siren. Yunho nodded grimly when you looked at him. âNot only did she curse the kingdom as a whole to eternal coldness, but also the entire Choi bloodline for that very same greed that killed her lover,â he confirmed.Â
Anger filled your veins at the man who had pretty much cursed his son for greed he couldnât control. âAt first, we didnât understand what was happening,â the mage spoke, a faraway look in his face as he recalled a memory heâd been wanting to forget. âThe snow just never melted and storm after storm claimed hundreds of lives. Sanâs father didnât live long enough for me to study the curse. Howeverââ
He paused, swallowing audibly, looking towards the floor. âThere was someone who did live long enough,â he whispered, voice cracking. âAnd heâs been missing for half a day now. He was but a child back then, Y/N. I-I justâŠsorry, I need to collect myself.â
A cold realization slid down your spine. San. You imagined a boy growing up under a weight no one should have to carry, a vessel for sins he never committed. That was the part that hurt the most to you because it was no wonder there was always something distant in his gaze, walls you could never get through, because he was always bracing for the cold no else could feel.
âI tried everything back then, you know?â Yunho finally spoke after a long silence, decades of desperation still lingering in his eyes. âI tried every magic I knew even if it almost killed me, but the snow just would not melt. But SanâŠhe loved Utopia even if the entire kingdom condemned him.â
Your brows furrowed in confusion, letting him continue. âUtopiaâs bound to its ruler. The Choi clan. The witch was smart enough to kill two birds with one stone - completely end the bloodline with the one thing that could outlast generations while erasing the entire kingdom.â
Your breath caught. âThe snow.â
Yunho nodded. âIronically, San was the one who realised what the curse actually entailed. Have you noticed that he never wears anything thick? He never gets cold when heâs outside with you, have you noticed that?â
You stayed silent, the puzzle pieces connecting slowly. Just last night when you were out on that balcony, he gave you his coat, even admitting outright that he never got cold. âHe said the locket prevented him from being cold,â you murmured to yourself more as an afterthought.
âThat was half the truth, yes,â Yunho said. âThe reason is because the curse wasnât meant to destroy the land outright - it was meant to bury it. â
A chill crawled up your spine. âThen why hasnât it yet?â
Yunho looked at you then, eyes dark with something close to reverence. âBecause San wouldnât let it. San absorbed the snow. Literally. Accidentally discovered it one Christmas evening when it stormed so bad, the snow was waist deep. It was the magic trying to reclaim Utopia completely. He got so sick, we thought we were losing him.â
The realization hit you hard. âSo when thereâs a stormââ
âHeâs at his weakest,â Yunho finished. âBecause heâs burning himself out to keep the snow at bay. Holding it back long enough for people to survive another day. The dark marks along his skin, they were the curse in itself, but more so just a side effect of him straining and pulling the curse inside him so the storm would stop, at least, for a while.â
The pieces slid together with a sickening clarity. Christmas was winter time and therefore where storms are the strongest. No wonder he hated it. No wonder he had isolated himself, it was so he could suffer in silence. And you were none the wiser.
You remembered how heâd convulsed, vomiting helplessly, blood streaking from his nose as if his body were tearing itself apart from the inside. And then, days later, the storm had stopped as if nothing had happened. It hadnât passed - San had just taken it. He had been protecting his people all his life and nobody even knew it, choosing to be condemned just to keep them alive.Â
And suddenly, you understood why San never stopped watching the skies; why even if he was with you or preoccupied with other people or in the middle of an important meeting he would always look out the windows. âThe locket?â You asked weakly.
âI made it for him,â he said quietly. âYears of San absorbing the snow had not been kind to his body. I wove magic into it so a part of the curse is in that locket. When the storm hits, it absorbs the curse before it reaches him. Not all of it, but enough to keep him alive until...well.â
His voice turns somber. âWithout it, he wouldnât survive the storms. Not anymore. And believe me, we tried transferring the curse to an enemy at one point by making them wear the locket, but it was too strong. Whoever touches it instantly perishes.â
You looked at him more closely, the way his jaw tightened as if holding back years of grief. And suddenly, you noticed it. This wasnât just sorrow, this was something deeper. âYou raised him,â you said softly. âYou love him.â
He only nodded, once, eyes shining as he looked away. âHe wasnât just my king, Y/N. Thatâs my boy,â he wavered, emotions finally coming through. âAnd he deserved something good for once. Which is exactly why youâre here, we needed you. Only when a heart as warm and pure as his enters willingly and claims the throne. The moment I saw you in that alleyway, I knew you were a kind soul, Y/N. Utopia becoming a legitimate kingdom with a queen was only half the reason.â
Yunho proceeds to explain that while it was true that they needed a queen, the reason why San was marriageless until now was because of what the curse said. It wasnât hard for San to force someone into a marriage or use something to bargain to find a queen, but it would be useless because the curse required someone to enter into the marriage willingly. And that was that, they thought that by you being here willingly, winter was going to fade.
But it didnât. Nothing had changed and everyone was back at square one. âThe problem was,â Yunho continued, exhaling shakily. âThere was the other half of the curse. One that San absolutely refused to acknowledge. Be claimed in return will the winter break.â
You halted at the insinuation, freezing like snow had been piled on top of your head. Your mind automatically raced with scenarios you didnât want to think about. Yunhoâs silence had pretty much confirmed everything you needed to know. To be claimed in return. They were going to kill you, use you as a sacrifice to balance the curse so the snow would finally stop and winter would come to an end. A willing queen and a king to give her up.
âThere was no way in hell San was going to let anything happen to you. You saw it yesterday. He didnât just reject it, he lost control,â he said firmly. âThere was never a doubt in his mind.â
âSo, what now? Where do we even find him?â You asked, chest aching painfully. âThere must be a solution, Yunho, something we could do to completely reverse this curse. I could hit the library for information, anything at this point. There has to be a way.â
âWell, yes, there isâŠâ Yunho trailed off, freezing as blood completely drained from his face. Whatever he just thought of had him off kilter so bad, he got up from his chair and knocked everything off the shelves in the process.Â
Before you knew it, he hurriedly bolted out of the room in sheer panic, leaving you to chase after him, the adrenaline boosting you because Yunho was fast. âYunho,â you chased after him, ignoring the burning sensation in your lungs and the sudden cold that hit you when you realised you had chased him all the way out to the horse stables. âWhatâsââ
âI know where he is,â Yunho gritted his teeth, already preparing to mount a horse. You could tell he was trembling in fear, swallowing the panic that had overtaken him. âSanâs planning to sacrifice himself. The land is bound to him, and his death would end the curse. Quickly, Y/N, hold my hand. We have to find him now.â
Terror filled your lungs, nodding anyway as you mounted, hands shaking so badly Yunho had to steady you before he started to ride away. The cold air hitting your face as the horse moved and blurred your surroundings did nothing to quelch the fear building at the pit of your stomach. All you could think was San and hope that you werenât too late.
Every second felt like it was tearing something vital from your chest, tears freezing at the corners of your eyes as you rode harder, faster, praying to see the man who had long decided that no curse was worth your life; that he would rather lose himself or let Utopia freeze than forever lose you.
The thought had you keen internally. Please, you begged, tears falling down your face painfully as they automatically froze before they even had the chance to form, gripping the saddle until your knuckles burned. Please donât let him think he has to disappear for us to survive.Â
âW-Where are we going?â You screamed into the air, teeth chattering from the cold.
âThe witchâs shack a little further up north where she lived with her lover,â Yunho replied, snapping the reins forward to make the horse go faster. âHer powerâs concentrated there.â
It didnât take long for you and Yunho to end up in a clearing where the trees were a little less condensed but the snow and wind were so strong and thick that it was almost impossible to see through it. But your breath hitched, anyway, because the moment you got past the haze, you saw him clear as day as if he was a beacon shining even from afar.
San. He was standing still in front of a quaint little shack, unbothered by the elements around him, just staring up at the sky with his eyes closed and you hated it. Absolutely detested the sight, because it looked like he had already resigned to his fate and was just waiting for the right moment to execute his plans.
And he was ready. You watched in panic as he raised his hand to his neck, holding the chain of the locket to take it off, but your body was already careening forward. You pushed yourself, jumping off of the horse before it even paused, ignoring Yunhoâs panicked calls and the way your leg ached when you fell particularly hard.
âNo!â You screamed at the top of your lungs, running like a madwoman through the thick blankets of snow even though your lungs were thinning in air and your legs were aching for reprieve. It was ear-piercing and blood-curdling enough to catch Sanâs attention, startling him to a halt and turning around, eyes widening when he saw your pitiful form run up to him.
And by God, he looked devastating. You wanted to tear up, it just wasnât fair for him to look this breathtaking and ethereal even as the snow surrounded him, melancholy wrapping him in its grace as he stared at you with hollow, empty eyes. âSan, please,â you begged, sobbing at this point. He looked like his soul had already left him long before his earthly body expired.
He smiled, the lines on his face softening and you abhorred how peaceful it made him look. This was the most at peace San had ever looked and you hated it. âMy sweet Y/N,â he croaked, the trembling in his hands betraying the true fear he actually felt. âWhat are you doing here?â
You yelped, trudging forward in failure when you tripped over a rock you couldnât see hidden by the thick snow. You pushed yourself up with shaking hands, tears blurring your vision. âDonât,â you sobbed, words tumbling out broken and raw. âDonât you dare look at me like that. Donât you dare make that face like youâve already decided.â
You felt Yunho behind you, steadying you, providing you warmth with the little magic he had left, opting not to say anything. This was between you and San at this point. And San, he just shook his head. âI have exhausted all options,â he said. âI am exhausted. Please, just let me go. I think I have suffered long enough that it should be alright if I could rest a bit, donât you think so?â
He said it so quietly amidst the oncoming storm and that scared you more than if heâd shouted. Your chest cracked open at the gentleness of it, at how he said it like a plea instead of a decision. âNo,â you cried, tears freezing at your lashes. âNot you. Not now. Not ever.â
Sanâs eyes softened. âY/Nââ
âYouâd already come this far, why now? You canât do this to the people who care for you. Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho, and especially Yunho. You canât do this to me. Weâve barely just begun, San, you cannot leave me like this. There has to be a wayââ
âDonât you get it? This is the only way,â San snapped, not out of anger, but more so in desperation, hoping for you to understand where he was coming from even if it meant it was for all the wrong reasons. âThe curse ends here. With me. I am the last of my bloodline so with me gone, the curse perishes alongside me.â
âYou know damn well that thatâs not true,â you snapped back, the frustration giving you a newly found rush of adrenaline that temporarily overtook the cold and the pain in your leg. âI came here willingly, San, and Iâm just as willing to do my part to be a sacrificial lambââ
âNo,â he immediately turns down, fire in his eyes so intense it couldâve been enough to melt the snow around him. âI didnât fight this curse this long to sacrifice someone else in the name of balance, especially not you.â
âSo, why wonât you fight for yourself this time?â You asked, voice breaking. âFor us?â
âI am,â he said hoarsely. âThis is the hardest battle Iâve fought yet. You think I donât want to stay? You think I donât want more tea sessions with you even though I despise tea? To stay long enough to finally see my kingdom be warm and green with you by my side?â
Something about that almost confession broke something inside you, and that was the most devastating part of it all. Almost. Just enough to finally tell you how he truly felt about you, but not enough where he was willing to stay long enough to tell you the entirety of it. âDonât go, San,â you looked at Yunho helplessly. âTell him, pleaseâŠâ
But the mage stayed mum, conserving his energy to keep you warm from the blizzard even though tears of devastation were already falling from his eyes. Sanâs voice dropped to something raw. âMy throne without you is meaningless and its future built on your death is no future at all,â he admitted before his eyes hardened with finality. âIâm sorry, YN.â
It all happened fast. In one moment, San was lifting his hands to take the locket off, and in the next, you were rushing to him, deliberately knocking him off to tackle him on the ground, momentarily distracting him. Without thinking, you took the locket off of him, putting it around your neck. It was all it took for all hell to break loose.
Yunhoâs spell shattered instantly in his state of shock and Sanâs eyes widened impossibly so as he realised what just happened. Everything was a blur, your ears ringing as you began to tumble down. San screamed your name, the sound of it so raw, primal, and animalistic that you could hear him even when you could barely comprehend the world anymore.
He immediately caught, cradling you in his arms as your vision started to blur out. âY/N, oh God, what the fuck did you do?â San cried, frantically shaking you as if that would get rid of the curse. âY/N, why? Why would you do that? Why?â
Your body jerked against his, your chest tightening to a degree where it felt like it was about to cave in on you. Suddenly, you felt this overwhelming cold over you and Sanâs grip tightened impossibly so. âYunho,â he called out in panic. âHer hands, oh Godââ
Black lines bled through your skin, exactly like the ones on Sanâs chest. They crept from your hands up your arms all the way towards your throat. Yunho staggered forward, horror breaking his paralysis. âThe curse,â he said, voice shaking. âI-I think itâs binding to herââ
San wasnât listening. He was sobbing now, forehead pressed to yours, tears streaking down his face as he begged you to stay awake. âLook at me,â he pleaded. âPlease. Donât you dare leave me, Y/N, pleaseââ
The last thing you saw was Sanâs face, utterly broken, grief carved into every line of it as he clutched you to his chest like something already lost.
Warmth youâve never felt before led your consciousness to awaken. It felt abnormal, like you werenât to feel it and for a moment, you thought you were back at your parentsâ farm - sweat clung to your skin, seeping out of your pores as natural heat from the farmland permeated all over the place.
Instead of the humble shack made out of wood and concrete, you were met with arched windows draped in sheer gossamer curtains. The bed beneath you was impossibly soft, and you were confused for a second. This wasnât the farmlands, and this wasnât warmth from the sun-baked earth you remembered.Â
You had to get up because the sweat was starting to irritate your lower back and you scrambled upright, you had to squint, covering your eyes as sunlight suddenly streamed from the windows. Now that you think about it, your lower back hurts too, like youâve been laying down for quite some time and the long sleep hurt more than felt restful.
You reckoned you should change out of your dress. It felt a little too thick for the weather. It was a nice day, perfect for a walk when you looked out your windows. The birds were singing outside, the trees were a lovely shade of green and multiple colourful flowers littered the entire palace groundsâ
You paused, horribly so. You blinked in a daze, rubbing your eyes in a daze and looked again. No. It was still bright outside, no blankets of snow covering the entire grounds like you knew Utopia to be. It wasnât supposed to be like this - warm, vibrant, alive. And you staggered, remembering everything all at once - the curse, the locket, San.
Suddenly, the door opened and there stood Wooyoung, looking like he was frozen in time, skin pale as if he had just seen a ghost. Whatever he had been holding slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor, forgotten entirely.
Before you could even say hello, he spun on his heel and shouted down the hall, voice cracking with panic and disbelief. âH-Hongjoong,â his voice cracked before he cleared his throat. âHongjoong!â
Hongjoong burst in, breathless, eyes wild. âWhat? What happenedââÂ
The second he saw you standing there, he froze as well before his knees gave out beneath him. He dropped to the floor without shame, head bowing as his hands pressed together. âThank the Heavens,â he whispered hoarsely, emotion flooding his voice. âOh, thank the HeavensâŠâ
Neither of them waited a second longer. âI-Iâll inform the mageââ the knight said before leaving.
Wooyoung bolted out as well, shouting at the top of his lungs as he ran down the halls, voice so loud you were sure the entire palace could have heard it. âYour Majesty, Your Majesty!â The young man hollered, voice brimming with emotion. âYour Majesty, sheâs awake!â
And in the chaos of it all, you could hear it, feel him approaching your chambers without even looking, the sounds of panicked footsteps as they got closer and closer and there he was - the man that made your heart beat at the mere thought of him, right in the flesh.
Sanâs hair was disheveled, like he had run his hand through it so many times in frustration. Your heart was torn between joy and hurt because San looked utterly worn down. The bags beneath his eyes looked darker than mere shadows and he resembled more of a shell of a man whose sleep had long abandoned him.
And now he was staring you at like he couldnât believe what he was seeing, torn between wanting nothing but to hold you versus protecting himself from nightmare and heartbreak just in case this wasnât real; that maybe he was hallucinating and you were only a figment of his imagination that he wanted so, so bad to manifest.
He flinched, not daring to breathe or blink. Slowly, he began to move closer to you, hands shaking as they hovered over you like he was afraid touching you would make you disappear. Just as suddenly, his legs gave out, knees thudding on the floor as his trembling arms wrapped around your thighs, head buried in your dress as he embraced your form.
âS-San,â you let out in surprise, hands automatically finding their way on his hair. âPleaseââ
âDonât,â he spoke, begged, voice raw and muffled. âPlease, j-just let me have this.â
When your fingers twitched, he gasped like heâd been holding his breath for as long as you were in that deep slumber and your touch just made him remember how to let air back into his lungs and life into his soul. It was how everyone else caught you and San and there was no dry eye in that room and at that moment.
Seonghwa and Jongho left first after, relief shining in their eyes, both bowing respectfully before they let Yeosang in, the kind-hearted chef holding onto a smiling Mingi. The taller had to lead the former out to give you and San privacy. Only Yunho was left, tears glistening in his eyes.
âDonât do that ever again. Donât you ever do that to me again. You donât understand,â he exhaled. âY/N. I thought I lost you, you were asleep for so long, I-I justâŠâ
You tried to speak, but your throat burned. You sat down to his eye level, unwrapping his arms around you, grabbing his face between your hands. âSan,â you said hoarsely. âLook at me.â
And he did. And by God his face, he looked wrecked up close. Eyes red-rimmed, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. âIâm here,â you continued, tears slipping free. âIâm not going anywhere. Weâre both here. Together.â
Something in him broke. He finally pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around you, his restraint shattering all at once. He buried his face in your hair, clutching you like you were the only solid thing left in the world before grabbing your face to kiss you. His lips were warm with promise and relief neither of you dared named yet but felt settled deep in your chests.
A pointed, awkward cough cut through the moment. âAhem.â
You both froze, pulling away to see Yunho standing a few steps away, one brow raised, amusement swimming behind his concern. âIâm still here,â Yunho said dryly.Â
You broke out into a breathless laugh first and it was all the three of you needed to make light of the situation. San guided you to the bed to let Yunho examine your body. âYouâre perfectly healthy,â he said in disbelief even behind the relief. âA miracle, I tell you. You were reckless and I ought to smack you in the head for what you did, but so far, so good.â
It was when they told you everything that happened after you passed out. They couldnât wake you up so they had no choice but to bring you back to the palace. San had to look away, jaw tight, when Yunho narrated how the king never left your bedside. But what truly surprised you was that about a week later, the snow started to melt and storms just halted completely.
âJ-Just like that?â You asked, not able to stop your surprise, looking outside in confirmation and the scenario was still the same. Utopia looked utterly alive and if you closed your eyes to breathe in, it felt free. âHow long did IâŠsleep?â
Both of them looked at each other before Yunho looked back on you. His expression softened, like he was choosing his words carefully. âAlmost four months,â he said quietly. âItâs spring now.â
But something still boggled your mind, something far darker than you didnât want to acknowledge but had to know. âBut how? I donât understand, is this how it ends? Just like that? Is Utopia free from the curse? IsâŠâ you trailed off. âSan free?â
Yunho went quiet for a moment, then slowly repeated the words that had haunted the kingdom for generations. âOnly when a heart as warm and pure as his enters willingly and claims the throne,â he said softly. âAnd be claimed in return, will the winter break.â
You stayed silent, confused, but listened. âFor the longest time, we misunderstood that last part as loss, that we needed a pure and kind heart as a sacrifice to stop the snow. But the magic never asked for death. It wanted reciprocation.â
You let that settle in, shaking your head because you still didnât understand it. You felt Sanâs grip tighten around your hand and you turned to look at him. He had a soft smile on his face. âMy father,â he spoke softly. âHe was greedy. Just wanted to possess a love that never belonged to him. To enter willingly to claim the throne and be claimed in returnâŠit was never about sacrifice. It was about being chosen back.â
The words landed like a final piece snapping into place. âIn short,â Yunho finished. âTo love and be loved in return. A queen of pure heart who was willing to accept a bloodline of rotten rulers with all she had and a king who loved with all his without asking for anything in return.â
The words settled heavily in the room. You had to admit, it was all anticlimactic; something you read as a child in those fairytale books your parents could barely afford selling grains. Love. Such a convoluted word yet powerful enough to bury a kingdom if need be.
It was all you could think about long after Yunho had left, leaving you and San in your chambers as the both of you laid down on your bed, his arms wrapped around you, just basking in the silence and the general presence the both of you offered each other. It was all you needed, and you were all he needed and more.Â
Maybe that was what it really was. Even if it was anticlimactic, it was reality, and what you felt for San was real. It ran deeper than the curse that held him for the longest time, and it certainly went beyond the reckless endangerment you put your life in when you wore the locket for him.
âAre you mad at me?â You blurted out dumbly, not knowing what else to say.
San didnât answer you right away. He exhaled a small laugh through his nose in disbelief. âYes. Very much so,â he said honestly. Your heart tanked, guilt swirling in it, but before you could spiral further, he tightened his arms around you. âBut,â he continued gently. âWhat I feel for you will always be stronger than my anger. â
All the breath from lungs left you, his words suddenly becoming the oxygen you needed to live. You wanted to choke from all the emotions that were clawing up your throat, and you looked at him - really looked at him. You breath caught because there was no trace of that king nor that man who was bound by a curse he never deserved. He was just San. His eyes were warm, devastatingly soft, watching you like you were something precious.Â
âI lost myself while you slept. You just looked soâŠgone,â he admitted quietly. âAnd it terrified me more than the curse ever did. A part of me died when you wore that locket.â
Your throat burned. âIâm sorry. I-I didnât mean to scare you like that, I swear, and honestly, I still donât know what I was thinking. I just knew I didnât want you to leave me.â
He didnât answer; chose not to. He smiled, staring at you with fondness in his eyes and it was such a San thing to do. He brushed his knuckles along your cheek, memorizing you in a way heâd never done before. The way he looked at you made your chest ache.
âIâm underselling this, arenât I?â He suddenly said, his thumb traced slow, absent-minded circles against your arm. âWhat I feel for you, I mean.â
You felt his forehead rest against yours, breath warm, steady. âIâd swallow poison if it tasted like you,â he said. âIâd have brought you back one way or another. Find another witch to curse me just to drag you back. I loved you, Y/N. And you were gone. I loved you. And you slept.â
Your chest ached, full and fragile all at once. You couldnât speak. If you did, you were certain youâd fall apart. His thumb stilled on your arm. âAnd Iâm sorry,â he said suddenly, voice low, rough around the edges.
You were confused. "For what?"
"That you thought you couldn't come to me," he whispered. "For letting you believe that the only way was to carry what should have never been yours."
He turned to you, his eyes shining with sincerity, his heart on his sleeve as he was about to pour his emotions to you. "It breaks my heart that I didn't do well enough for you to know that," he kissed your hand, his lips lingering longer. "I'm the one safe person you can always turn to, Y/N. Had I known it was going to come to that, I wouldâve told you and let you choose what to do."
"Are you saying that you would have been okay if I solved everything myself?" You asked nervously. âThat you would have let me help had you told me the curse beforehand?â
"Are you asking me to be okay with it?"
You didnât reply immediately. "I want to know what my future husband thinks," you admitted shyly.Â
He raises a brow in surprise, the redness on the tip of his ears betraying his flustered emotions. âYes,â his thumb brushed under your eye, tender. âThe answer is yes. Your happiness has been the most important thing to me ever since I met you. I hope you know that.â
"I know it now," a tear fell from your eyes. And then multiple of them followed. "And now is all that matters."
He wiped your tears away with his free hand, looking at you like you were the only constant thing in the world that finally stopped freezing long before his kingdom did. âYouâre beautiful even in tears,â he murmured.
"You can't just say things like that," you sniffled, smiling through your tears anyway. "I-I have nothing to offer you, San, I'm just a farm girl and I have no idea how to lead a kingdom. I donât have any merit."
You had no idea where all your insecurity was coming from, but it was there. "No," San whispered. "You can give me everything. The people too. Look around you, Y/N."
And you did and thatâs when you saw it. Random things you knew werenât in the room - a hand stitched shawl, flowers in ornate vases, carved wooden charmed wooden carvings, multiple letters stacked against one another in one corner of the room. Your room was filled to the brim with gifts.
âTheyâre from the people of Utopia,â he said, following your gaze. âTheyâve been giving you gifts. I told them everything. About the curse. About what you did. About how the snow stopped because you refused to let me disappear.â
Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs. âTo them, youâre already their queen,â he continued. His eyes shone warmly, shining softly and earnestly as a good king should who truly loved his kingdom like San did. â You lead by caring enough to try. Every day, even when it costs you. I know I did.â
Then he smiled, that soft, devastating smile meant only for you, and reached into his palm. A ring rested there and your tears started falling downwards at a faster rate as he took your hand in his. âLetâs do this again, please. No more duties, no more curses. Just us choosing each other, if youâd let me.â
The room felt impossibly still as he held the ring up to you, hope trembling just beneath his calm. âTo the person who braved the cold with me,â he began. âWould you spare me the torment of being without you and marry me?"
You couldnât speak, nodding fervently as you covered your mouth to stop yourself from sobbing out loud. The breath he let out was shaky, broken by a smile so full it almost hurt to look at. When he slid the ring onto your finger, the cold felt like nothing more than a distant memory.
In that moment, with no more snow falling and no curse left to fear, it felt like the world finally, truly began again for the both of you. He cupped your face in his hands and leaned in. The kiss was nothing short of gentle, longing melting away between your lips.
And as the last remnants of fear had unshackled itself from the cold grips of despair, the curse was unbound. And at last, San felt free - truly free for the first time in his life.
Such few words, yet so impactful. The simplicity of expressing oneâs love towards something never ceases to amaze me. I hope youâre having a beautiful day, Schatzi.
pairing(s): tutor!hongjoong x f!student!reader (ft. playboy!wooyoung x f!reader & tutor!hongjoong x f!reader x roommate!seonghwa)
genre: college au, slow burn, romance, fluff, angst, smut
summary: struggling in your korean class, you're assigned a tutorâbut there might be more than studying happening during your private lessons.
warnings: MDNI. 18+. cussing, explicit sexual content, heavy dom/sub dynamics, harddom!hongjoong, meandom!wooyoung, switch!seonghwa, sub!reader, threesome, consensual non-consent (cnc), degradation, bondage, sex toys, unprotected sex, fingering, p in v sex, voyeurism, cockwarming, impact play, spanking, pussy spanking, spit kink, dacryphilia, oral sex, mirror sex, daddy kink, knifeplay, biting/marking, choking, finger sucking, sexual roleplay, pet play, punishment, pet names, derogatory names, hair pulling, rough sex, begging, creampie, fearplay, dubcon, nipple play, mentions of blood/violence, derogatory language/names, possessive behavior, lmk if i missed any!
word count: 13.1k
note: this is purely a work of fiction and does not accurately represent ateez in any way. this is wayyyy longer than i intended it to be... and i haven't written smut in SO LONG so i apologize for what you're about to read but i tried :'))
chapter-specific warnings: minors, this is your final warning!! dni!! explicit sexual content, p in v sex, power dynamics (d/s), unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, mild dubcon, loss of virginity, fingering, knifeplay (wy fucks reader with the handle of a knife), slight fearplay, degradation, derogatory language/names, mentions of blood/violence, hair pulling, marking, biting, very very brief nipple play/spanking. please tell me if i missed any!
You pause outside Wooyoung's door longer than you intend to.
It's not nervesâat least, thatâs what you tell yourself. You just need a second. One steady breath in through your nose, then out through your mouth.
The hallway of his off-campus apartment smells faintly of someone else's laundry detergent and recycled warm air from the vents, the kind that never truly feels fresh. Your heart is already beating a little too fast. Talking to Wooyoung in a crowded bar, surrounded by blaring music and what feels like hundreds of bodies, is one thing. Standing alone outside his apartment doorâno witnesses, no distractions, and no easy escapeâis something else entirely.
You lift your hand to knock. But before your knuckles even make contact with the door, it swings open.
Wooyoungâs wide grin hits you first. His eyes gleam with that familiar mix of mischief and excitement, his signature look that makes your heart skip a beat. He already seems thoroughly pleased with himself.
"I was watching you through the peephole," he says casually, his grin teasing just enough to make your stomach twist. "Was someone nervous to see me again?"
You blink. Once. Twice. "No," you blurt, words tumbling out faster than you mean to. "No! I was justâŠ" Your voice trails off, useless against his raised eyebrow and expectant smirk.
Unable to come up with anything remotely convincing, you frown. "Why are you watching me, anyway? Creep."
He laughs, a low, genuine sound that makes it impossible to stay annoyed with him. Stepping back, he swings the door wider, his arm arching in a dramatic, playful bow. "Come in, mâlady."
You side-eye him, but step inside anyway, moving slowly, pretending that his goofy, confident charm doesnât make your heartbeat hit double time.
The door closes behind you with a soft click that somehow sounds impossibly loud in the quiet apartment. You kick off your shoes near the entryway, feeling slightly more anxious now that youâve crossed into his world. His apartment looks exactly like you imagined it would, which is a little unsettling in itself.Â
Despite the building's age, his little apartment feels surprisingly modern. Dark wood and even darker shadows dominate the space, softened by warm lighting that gives it a cozy glow. The kitchen opens directly into the living area, an island slicing through the space like a boundary that doesn't actually keep anyone out. Exposed metallic ductwork runs along the ceiling, giving the whole apartment an industrial edge.
All his furniture is blackâparticularly the low, dark couch in the center of the living room, a matching blanket casually tossed over one arm. Everything feels so lived-in yet meticulously clean. It feels so Wooyoung.
"You look cute," he says, and the words snap your attention back to him.
You glance down automatically at your outfit. Earlier, you'd agonized over what to wear for almost an hour, finally settling on a simple little skirt and an oversized sweater that hangs off your shoulder in a way that looks casual. You wanted to look nice without looking like you tried, and under his gaze, you feel like you succeeded.Â
"Thanks," you mumble, tugging the hem of your skirt down a fraction, though your hands feel more nervous than adjusting.
He's dressed in all black, matching his home. A simple T-shirt and dark jeans, nothing flashy, yet somehow, it all looks impossibly good on him. His hair is messier than it was at the bar, like he ran his hands through it one too many times, which only makes him look even more attractive to you.
"Don't get shy on me already," he says lightly, already turning away and motioning for you to follow. "C'mon."
You follow him into the kitchen, your steps cautious but curious. Wooyoung moves with such easy confidence, completely at home in his space, and thereâs something about the way he carries himself that makes it impossible for you not to fall into step behind him.
He dips a wooden spoon into a pot simmering on the stove atop the island, stirring lazily. The scent of garlic and tomato blooms through the air, and it suddenly reminds you of why youâre hereâdinner.
You linger a few feet away, watching him cook. Heâs in short sleeves, and now that you can see him fully, your attention catches on his forearm. The veins stand out as he stirs, framing the dark lines of the rose tattoo etched into his skin.
You donât realize youâre staring until he glances over and catches you.
A familiar smirk curves his mouth. âYou like guys with tattoos?â His tone is teasing, the kind that makes you feel embarrassed, mixed with something you don't want to name. âI shouldâve knownâitâs always the ones who look innocent that like it.â
Your cheeks warm instantly. You shift your gaze, torn between looking at him and pretending the tattoo doesnât exist. âWellâŠâ you start. âWhat does it mean?â
His smirk softens a little, but he doesn't immediately answer. Instead, he taps the spoon against the side of the pan, scraping off the last traces of sauce, then sets it aside. Leaning back against the island countertop, he crosses his arms loosely and studies you.
"What do you think of when you see a rose?"
You blink at him, caught off guard by the sudden question. Your fingers curl around the hem of your sweater, a nervous habit. You study his tattoo more closely now, tracing the dark petals with your eyes, imagining the pain it must have taken to etch it.
Slowly, you answer, "Well⊠theyâre my favorite flower. Not because they're supposed to be romantic." You go on. "Theyâre beautiful, sureâbut when you get too close, you come face to face with their thorns. Itâs like a warning. Youâre allowed to admire them from a distance⊠but getting closer comes with a price."
The entire apartment seems to quiet around your words: the soft simmer of the sauce and the low hum of the vent fade into the background. Wooyoung doesnât interrupt, just listens.
Then, quietly, "Yeah," he says. "Exactly."
The look he gives you pins you in place. The playful glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by something more serious. For a moment, it feels like the rest of the room disappears, like thereâs some magnetic pull between you.
Then, just as suddenly, heâs the Wooyoung you met at the bar again. His smirk returns, sharper now, brushing the tension aside like it never existed. "Youâre doing a great job making me sound tragic and misunderstood," he says lightly. "I kind of like it." He flicks a sly glance your way before turning back to check the sauce on the stove.
Your heart stutters at how easily he does thatâhow he slips from soft and serious back into teasing charm in a single beat. You swallow and turn your attention to what he's cooking.
He glances over his shoulder at you like heâs been waiting for you to notice the food. âBy the way,â he says casually, far too casually for how proud he clearly is, âitâs aglio e olio.â
You hum, watching as he gestures vaguely at the stove with his spoon. âBut I added tomatoes for extra flavor,â he continues, already grinning. âSomething I learned in my culinary class this semester.â He emphasizes culinary class like it's supposed to impress you.
You blink, surprised, despite yourself. The noodles are already done, resting neatly in a colander by the sink, while the sauce simmers separately in the pot. The oil is shimmering, the garlic is turning gently golden, and the tomatoes are breaking down just enough to stain everything a deep, rich red. The pot on the stove radiates heat, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling, and everything about it looks surprisingly professional.
You didn't really expect this from him.
Of course, Wooyoung notices your expression immediately. His chest puffs out just a little as he stirs again, exaggerated this time. "What?" he says, smugness already creeping into his voice. "You look shocked."
"Iâm not shocked," you say quickly, though you absolutely are. "Just⊠um..."
He scoffs. "I told you I could cook." He points the spoon at you like an accusation. "I told you. Multiple times. I thought you believed me."
"I didnât not believe you," you argue, folding your arms, even as your eyes drift back to the food. "I justâ"
"You doubted me," he interrupts, delight shining in his eyes. "Itâs okay. Everyone does. Then they eat my food and suddenly itâs, 'Oh, Wooyoung, wow, youâre so talented,'" he says in a mockingly sweet voice, batting his eyelashes.
You roll your eyes, but you canât stop the smile tugging at your lips. âAlright,â you say, deliberately skeptical, humoring him. âBut I have to see how it tastes to know if you're actually good or if it's all just for show.â
He lifts an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" he says. "You wanna try it, then?"
You suddenly feel a wave of shyness crash over you. His grin widens, clearly enjoying your reaction far too much. Before you know what's happening, he dips his pointer finger into the pot, scooping up a bit of sauce, steam curling around the tip of his finger. He turns back to you and holds it out, right in front of your face.
You stare at it. Then at him.
He just waits, finger hovering. "Well?" he prompts.
Your pulse thrums in your ears. Maybe it's bold of you, but you can't help yourselfâyou let out a small, breathy laugh and give in to his teasing. You lean forward, holding eye contact as you slowly wrap your lips around his finger, tongue licking the sauce off in measured swirls, sucking your cheeks in just enough for heat to bloom low in your stomach.
Something changes in Wooyoung immediately. His teasing edge melts away. His eyes darken, and you realize he's looking at you in a way you haven't seen yet: pure lust. His gaze is so sharp and intense that it becomes all too much for you.
You look away first.Â
Your attention snaps to the stove, to the bubbling pot beside you, and you reach for the mixing spoon just to give your hands something to do. You stir a little too quickly, cheeks warm. "Itâs⊠pretty good," you say, aiming for casual. "I think it could use a little more salt, though."
A low laugh slips from himâand it's not a playful one this time. He steps in behind you, close enough that you feel his presence before you feel him touch you. His chest presses gently into your back as he reaches around, smoothly taking the spoon from your hand and continuing the slow, steady stirring himself.
Youâre pinned against the island by him, held tightly against his chest. With his free hand, he brushes your hair away from your ear, knuckles softly grazing the skin of your cheek. He leans in, just enough that his breath ghosts over your ear, his lips barely brushing it as he speaks.
"I love it when you get shy, baby," he murmurs against you lowly, voice threaded with amusement. "The second I look at you like that, your eyes go all wide and scared." Another soft laugh, closer to your ear now. "But you should watch how you talk to me about my cooking," he adds quietly, stirring the sauce with ease. "I don't take corrections very well."
Your breath catches. an involuntary hitch that gives you away immediately. Heat floods your face, then spreads lower. Your shoulders tense, caught between the instinct to pull away and the far stronger urge to lean back into him. Your fingers curl against the edge of the counter, nails pressing into the granite as if steadying yourself will keep your knees from going weak. He can probably hear your heartbeat, every beat betraying just how deeply his wordsâand the way he says themâhave gotten under your skin.
Wooyoung's hand moves slowly, fingers trailing from the side of your neck down over your shoulder unhurriedly, like heâs taking his time learning the shape of you. When his touch reaches your waist, your breath wavers despite your best effort to keep it steady. Every nerve feels tuned to him, hypersensitive, and still, you keep your eyes fixed stubbornly on the sauce, afraid to look up at him.
Then his grip tightens. He grabs your waist and flips you in one smooth motion, causing a gasp to slip from your mouth. Your back arches instinctively as he traps you against the counter, the cool surface pressing into you while he leans in close. He looks down at you with that same dark intensity, nothing playful left in his eyes now.
âYou could at least look at me while Iâm talking,â he says quietly, voice edged with something dangerous, his hand holding your waist firmly. A faint smirk tugs at his mouth as he dips his head closer. âItâs rude to ignore your host.â
He glances past you for half a second, lips curling with that teasing grin, and then he reaches back to set the wooden spoon down on the island behind you. You hear the sound of it clicking softly against the surface of the granite.
Then his hand is in your hair. He gathers it gently, drawing it forward and laying it over your shoulder, fingers sliding through it like heâs testing the weight of it in his palm.
Then he tugs. Hard. A quiet, high-pitched whimper slips out of you before you can stop it.Â
His reaction is immediate. His grin deepens, slow and satisfied.
âOh,â he murmurs, clearly pleased. âYou like that?â He gives your hair another tiny pull, just enough to remind you heâs there, in control. âGood to know.â His tone softens into something almost playful as he adds, âJust try to keep your hair out of our dinner, okay?â
You nod, a small, obedient motion, still frozen in place. Your gaze drops to his mouth without you meaning it to, to the way his lips curve, the way he speaks to you like thisâso dominant, yet mocking, like he's in total control. It makes you feel small in the best way, like youâre exactly where youâre meant to be.Â
He chuckles softly and gives your cheek a light pat before stepping back. The sudden loss of his warmth leaves you blinking, still pressed to the counter, trying to process what just happened.Â
He turns back to the stove like nothing monumental just occurred, picking up the wooden spoon again and stirring. Then he glances at you over his shoulder and winks.
âIâd keep going,â he says lightly, âbut I donât want to ruin my dessert before dinner.â
You let out a shocked laugh, light and breathless, and finally push yourself away from the counter, remembering that you are, in fact, allowed to move. Your heart is still racing, and your skin is still warm where he touched you.
You turn away from the stove and let your eyes wander, really taking in the apartment now that your brain is slowly rebooting. Itâs small, but it's so unmistakably him. Thereâs a neat stack of vinyl records leaning against the wall near the TV, the sleeves all worn at the edges like theyâre actually used, not just for decoration. A half-finished Harry Potter-themed Lego set sits on the coffee table, the pieces carefully sorted into little piles, like he got distracted halfway through and never came back to it.
There are photos pinned to a corkboard hanging near the entrywayâfriends making stupid faces (you recognize Yeosang and San in a couple of them), blurry concert shots, and one of him grinning wildly with his hair being blown by the wind, clearly taken without his permission. You smile at that one without realizing it.
Behind you, Wooyoung keeps stirring like he doesn't notice you snooping around. You can practically feel his grin without even looking.
You glance back toward him from your spot near the door, trying to sound casual. "So⊠whatâs your roommate doing tonight?"
He lets out a chuckle, still focused on the food, not even bothering to turn toward you. "Donât have one."
You freeze. "Oh," you say a beat later. "You don't?"
He laughs this time, a little louder, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Nope. This is my place." He shrugs like learning this piece of information didnât just flip an entire switch in your brain. "Lucky me, right? Rich parents who fund my own apartment."
"Oh," you repeat, softer now. "Yeah."
Your thoughts instantly begin to race, unhelpfully vivid. No roommate. No closed bedroom door down the hall that belongs to someone else. No awkward silences or careful voices. Just the two of you. Alone.
You must go very still again, because he finally glances over his shoulderâand his grin turns knowing. Like heâs caught you mid-thought.
"So," he continues, eyes glinting, "you can be as loud as you want, baby. No one will hear a thing."
He turns back to the stove, humming a little song under his breath like he didn't say a word.Â
You blink, blushing again, and choose not to respond. Instead, you drift back over to where heâs cooking, trying to act casual but failing spectacularly. You lean slightly over his shoulder, watching the way his hand controls the spoon so effortlessly.Â
"Whereâd you learn how to cook?" you ask, looking up at him.
He glances down at you, eyes softening just a touch. "From my mom," he says. "Sheâs incredible in the kitchen. Taught me everything I know."
He leans back just a little, eyes drifting as he remembers. "The first time I ever cooked dinner by myself, I was ten years old. And guess what I made?" He lifts a finger to emphasize the point. "Pasta. Just like this." He smirks at you, shaking his head slightly. "Obviously, it wasnât this fancy. I burned the sauce. And my hands. And spilled the noodles all over the floor.â
You canât help but smile, imagining little ten-year-old Wooyoung in the kitchen.
"My mom helped me clean up, walked me through it. And laughed at me a lot," he continues, smiling at the memory. "But she never let me quit. She said, 'If you can make it once, you can make it again. And next time, it'll be even better than the first.'"
He leans closer, smirk returning. "Little did she know," he murmurs playfully, "she was just prepping me to cook for pretty girls in my apartment."
His hand dips into the sauce again. His fingertip smears bright red on your nose, and he grins, eyes sparkling. âBoop.â
You yelp, swiping at your nose with a paper towel you quickly grab from the counter. "Wooyoung! Seriously? My makeup!"
He just chuckles. "Don't worry about it. Your makeup will be gone by the time we're done here, anyway," he says nonchalantly.Â
You freeze mid-wipe, heart thudding in your chest.Â
"Stop saying stuff like that," you manage, your voice small, faltering. Your hands still grip the paper towel, knuckles white as you go to toss it in the garbage.
Though your back is turned to him, you feel his hand slowly snake around your waist again, tugging you closer to him.
âI canât,â he grins, gazing down at you as he turns you around. âI like it too much, getting you all shy and flustered.â
You feel heat crawling up your neck, your ears burning, and you try to mask it, rolling your eyes with a little huff. âWhateverâŠâ you mutter, even though your voice is quieter than you mean for it to be.
He just grins wider and yanks you even closer, his chest pressing against yours. The heat radiating from him is impossible to ignore.
"By the way, I added more salt," he murmurs lowly, "just like you said. Wanna try it again?"
You pause for a fraction of a second. What does he mean this time?  Your stomach twists in anticipation, but the word comes out anyway. âOkayâŠâ
He slowly dips his finger into the sauce again. You bite your lip, thinking you know what's coming. But he doesn't put it near your mouth this time. Instead, he licks his own finger clean, holding your gaze the entire time.
Heat pools low inside you, spreading through your body in a way that's entirely consuming. Your hands clench at your sides, your breath hitching slightly, but you can't look away. You're mesmerized by the scene in front of you.
He holds eye contact, gaze dark and intense, while tightening his grip on your waist. "You sure you want a taste?" he asks teasingly, like he's testing you.
Your mouth opens, then closes. Words stick. You want to say something, but your voice feels trapped. So instead, you just nod, eyes widening.
He shakes his head slowly, amused. âNope. I wanna hear you use your words, baby.â
Your pulse spikes, but you finally exhale, rather shakily. "âŠI⊠I want a taste," you manage softly but audibly. A whispered surrender.Â
His smirk deepens, and his free hand slides under your chin, tilting your head upward gently, giving himself full control. The heat of his palm sends shivers through your body.
"That's a good girl," he whispers, staring down solely at your lips.
And then he leans in, his lips brushing against yours first in a teasing, almost torturous graze, before pressing fully into a kiss that feels slow and patient, like he's testing how you react to him. Your body responds instinctively, leaning into him, the rest of the kitchen completely forgotten except for the warmth and electricity between you.
After a moment, he pulls back just slightly, chest heaving against yours, eyes dark as they sweep over your flushed face. His smirk curls with that infuriating confidence. "I guess a little appetizer wonât spoil dinner," he murmurs smugly, as if he knows exactly the effect heâs having on you.
Before you can even react, he pulls you back into him, this time with a sharp intensity that makes your knees instantly weaken. The kiss is nothing like beforeâitâs raw, passionate, the kind you would have imagined only in daydreams about him. One of his hands slides around your waist, firm and controlling, while the other snakes up to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands.
Suddenly, he tugs harshly, and your breath catches in a sharp gasp. He uses that moment to slide his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss further, like he's savoring the way you melt into him. The taste of the sauce, lingering from earlier, mixes with him, and it somehow makes everything hotter, more electric.
The hand that had been on your waist shifts, settling on your ass and squeezing gently. You canât help itâyour body responds naturally, arching into him, chest pressing harder against him.
Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, he bites your lipâhard. Pain and pleasure spike through you at once, a jolt that makes you feel like you'd sink to the floor if he wasn't holding you up. You whimper, the sound small and helpless, and he licks over the spot heâs bitten, smirk brushing against you even through the kiss, leaving you dizzy, flushed, and wanting more.
But Wooyoung pulls his lips away slowly, just far enough to look at you.
The expression on his face steals the air from your lungs. Itâs not playful now, no longer teasingâthereâs a depth to his gaze that makes your stomach flip, something dark and intent that youâve never been on the receiving end of before. It hits you sharply and dizzily, and your legs threaten to give out beneath you.
Without breaking eye contact, he reaches back and turns off the stove. The click of the burner sounds loud in the quiet kitchen, final in a way that sends another shiver down your spine.
"Shit, baby," he murmurs lowly, his voice deeper than you've ever heard before. "Good thing I have self-control, or I'd fuck you over this counter right now."
Before you can even process whatâs happening, Wooyoung lifts you with ease and sets you on the edge of the island. The cold stone seeps through the fabric of your skirt, a shocking contrast to the heat pooling between your legs. You suck in a breath, instinctively bracing your hands against the counter behind you.
He smirks, enjoying the way he has you breathless as he slowly spreads your legs, giving him full access to what he wants.
"I'm really trying to be patient with you, ____. Usually, I'm actually quite the gentleman," he murmurs as his hands begin to trail upward slowly, brushing softly over the bare skin of your thighs. "But you're making it so fucking hard." He pauses, smirk growing, as if he's realizing what he said. "In more ways than one."
He slowly pushes the hem of your skirt higher, inch by deliberate inch, his fingertips tracing along the insides of your thighs. The touch is feather-light, teasing, and unhurriedâclose enough to make your breath stutter, but far enough to deny you any relief. Each second stretches, the anticipation tightening until it borders on unbearable.
"WooyoungâŠ" you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath, the tingling heat building in your core until itâs almost too much to stand.
He looks at you then, and the grin that spreads across his face is wicked, like he already knows exactly what's happening inside your headâand the rest of your body.Â
"Yeah, baby?" he pouts mockingly, his tone sickeningly sweet as his fingers graze your panties, right over your throbbing clit.Â
A quiet whimper slips from you, your body betraying how badly you want more, every nerve igniting with want.
Wooyoung chuckles under his breath. "Don't tell me you're already this desperate for my cock."
He takes his pointer finger and flicks your clit through the fabric, and this time, there's no holding anything backâa soft moan escapes you as your legs tremble, the craving and sensation overwhelming. His grin widens, eyes dark with something cruel.
"Fuck," he murmurs, shaking his head slowly. "I knew it." His gaze drags over your body slowly. "Coming all the way here just for my cock. Acting all shy and innocent." He leans in slightly, voice taunting. "But I knew who you really were the moment I saw you in that bar."
A finger hooks into the side of your panties, tugging them to the side just enough to expose your bare pussy to the cool air. His voice drops to a low whisper, like he's telling you a secret meant for you alone. "A desperate, needy little slut."
He slides a finger into your dripping cunt, and your entire body reacts, your breath breaking as your eyes fly open. It's been so long since you've felt anything like this that the sensation shocks you, overwhelming and foreign in the best way.Â
He hums, dark and pleased, savoring the way you can't hide your response to his touch.
"So fucking wet for me already, huh, baby?" he says, voice edged with cruel amusement. He tsks, his finger curling slowly inside you, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you. "You really are easy to read."
He's controlling with his touch, giving you just enough to keep you right on the edge, his sick gaze never once leaving yours. It's obvious he loves this partâthe way your body gives you away, the way every small movement proves how much power he has over you with the simplest touch.
"Wooyoung..." you whisper, words faltering before they even leave your lips. You want to say more, to beg, to ask him for something, but it gets caught in your throat.
He leans closer, that trademark grin curving on his face, eyes lighting up with mischief. "You have a mouth," he murmurs, almost a growl. "Use it."
"Please," you manage, the words slipping out in a shaky breath, "Wooyoung, I... I need more."
He tilts his head mockingly. "Already begging for me?" he says, voice silky and cruel. "Is that all it takes to get you shaking like this? One finger?" He chuckles darkly. "Pathetic."
Without warning, he sinks a second finger deep inside, drawing the exact reaction he wants. Your whole body jerks, heat pooling inside you, breath breaking as you cling to the edge of the counter. You don't even notice the sting of tears forming in your eyes until your vision blurs.Â
He pouts, mock sympathy dripping from every word. "Aww, someone can't handle getting fucked by more than one finger?" he asks. "Surely a slut like you has been fucked by plenty of cocks, no?"
Your face burns. You can't look at him, too humiliated. You shake your head once.
"No?" he repeats, more surprised than mocking now. His fingers don't slow inside you, but for a moment, it looks like he might stop. Like he's actually considering it.Â
Then his gaze drops back to you, taking in the way you're still reacting to his touch, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes.Â
"Huh," he murmurs. A slow smirk creeps back onto his lips. "You could've told me that, you know." He leans in again, carefully wiping the single tear falling slowly down your cheek away with his thumb. His voice is softer but still teasing. "I might've gone a little easier on you this whole night."
But then his tone shifts right back to smug. "Although..." he adds, eyes dark with satisfaction, "you seem to be handling my fingers just fine."
You feel yourself stretch even more as he slips a third inside. The sensation builds againâtoo much, too fastâand it knocks the breath right out of your lungs. Your body reacts before you can think, tension coiling tight until it spills over. Tears slip free, warm against your cheeks, not from pain but from how overwhelming it feels, how full you really are.Â
Wooyoung quickly pumps his digits in and out of your dripping cunt, curling them so they hit that spot that makes you moan embarrassingly loud. Your hand flies out blindly, fingers grasping the first solid object you can find to keep yourself from falling off the counter. Wood presses into your palm as you cling to it, knuckles whitening.Â
He chuckles at your embarrassment, amused and pleased all at once. His gaze follows your hand, then drifts back to your face as his grin widens, slow and wicked.Â
His fingers suddenly pull out of you, and the pressure eases instantly, the absence hitting you almost harder than the intensity did. A soft, needy whine escapes you, your body instinctively reacting to the sudden emptiness. You barely recognize the sound as your own.
"Look at you," he says quietly, lifting a hand to brush his thumb along your cheek, wiping away the last traces of dried tears. "So pretty like this, crying for me. But honestly... I'm a little worried."Â
He leans back, his hands settling on your trembling thighs, holding you steady. His thumbs drag in slow circles against your delicate skin as he focuses on your face.
"I don't know how you plan on handling my dick if you've never done anything like this before."
His eyes flick back to your handâand this time, he actually pauses. For a beat, neither of you moves. Then he reaches over, calm and unhurried, and wraps his fingers around your wrist, lifting your hand away from what youâre grasping onto.Â
That's when you finally look down and realize what it is.
A wooden knife block.
Wooyoung exhales a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching as he releases your wrist. His fingertips graze the tops of the knives thoughtfully, practicedâbecause these knives are his. Chosen carefully, owned, and used, all by him.
"You know," he says with a small smirk, "when you cook as much as I do, you get picky about your knives."
He taps the first one, closest to you. "This oneâs a paring knife. It's small. Precise. I use it when I need controlâdetail work. Things you donât rush."
His finger slowly slides to the next. "This is my chefâs knife. The one I use the most. Everyone thinks they know how to handle one of these, but if your gripâs wrong?" He clicks his tongue softly. "Itâll slip."
Then his hand skips over the rest, landing on the last knife in the block. The biggest one. The longest blade and the thickest handle.Â
For a moment, he doesnât pull it free. He just rests his palm over the handle, fingers curling around it naturally.
"And this one," he continues, slower now, "isnât for beginners. You donât grab it unless youâre absolutely sure of your grip." His gaze finds yours, unblinking, something dark in the way he holds it. "Most people get scared off when they see it." A soft smirk. "Which is a shameâbecause when itâs handled right?" His thumb presses lightly into the handle. "Nothing works better."Â
He pulls it from the block in one smooth motion, the silver blade singing softly as it slides free. You flinch at the sound, breath catching in your throat, and your eyes widen at how sharp the knife actually is.
The blade is long and slender, catching the light in a way that makes it gleam dangerously. The black handle is heavier and longer than you expected, fitting perfectly in Wooyoung's hand, and for a moment, you canât look away, feeling both captivated and, for some reason, aroused. Â
Wooyoung twirls the knife effortlessly between his fingers, eyes never leaving yours. He studies your expression like itâs an open book, and when that flicker of arousal crosses your face, his smirk deepens. He can read you so easily.
He tilts his head, twirling the knife one last time before letting it rest in his hand. He leans ever so slightly closer, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"On top of everything," he murmurs quietly, "you're into knives, too?" His gaze flicks over your reaction, and he grins when he hears you suck in a breath. "I know we met on Yunhoâs birthday⊠but god,"âhe drags the word out just enough to make your pulse stutterâ"it feels like it's mine."
He lifts his free hand and lets it rest lightly around your neck, his touch firm but careful. "Lie down for me, baby," he orders lowly. "I want you as relaxed as possible for this."
You tense for a moment before you obey, allowing your body to be pushed down by his grip. The surface is cold beneath your back, intensifying the thrill in how exposed and vulnerable you feel.Â
Wooyoung slowly removes his hand from your neck, letting it drift down, only to catch a strand of your hair between his fingers. With a lazy motion, he sweeps it aside, letting it fall over the countertop and leaving your neck bare, exposed. His eyes follow every movement, flicking to your face as if heâs memorizing the way youâre looking at him.
Then the predatory grin returns. He lifts the knife and dangles it tauntingly in front of your face, slowly lowering it until it hovers just above your neck. The cool touch of the metal against your skin makes you gasp.
"Shh," he murmurs, reaching out to hold you still. His voice drops as he speaks. "You know, when working with a knife, a chef learns very quickly. You have to stay still. One wrong move, and..." He grins, letting you fill in the rest of the sentence in your own mind.
You lift your gaze to him, your eyes meeting. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you nodâjust enough to let him know you understand. That little gesture seems to spark something in him.
Wooyoung leans slightly closer, the blade tracing the curve of your body as it moves down with a languid grace. It glides over your collarbone, slides past the line of your shoulder, tracing the curve of your clothed breasts, never once sinking deeper into your skin.
"Donât be scared," he murmurs, eyes flicking up to yours. "Iâll only break skin if you want me to. You know, your blood could be a good addition to the sauce."
The comment makes a shiver run down your spine. The threat of the knife gliding across your body is sharp, and you're not sure if you can fully trust that he won't let it hurt you. His eyes roam your face again, catching every nervous flutter of your lashes. That devilish smirk never once fades from his lips.
The blade glides lightly over your stomach, covered by your sweater, before sliding to the side. It curves over your hip and upper thigh, teasing along the line of your body, causing a flutter to rise in your chest. He moves it carefully across one thigh to the other, circling your cunt, while his free hand rolls your skirt the rest of the way up, letting it ride higher and leaving your lacy panties fully exposed.
Wooyoung flicks at the little bow above your crotch with a teasing smirk. âCute,â he muses. âExactly what I pictured you in.â He lets the knife hover just a whisper above your panties, then tilts his head. âSuch a shame I have to ruin them.â
His free hand follows the curve of your folds, tracing over the fabric. He lifts an eyebrow, grinning, when he notices the wet spot already soaking through. "Though it looks like you've already ruined them for me."Â
In one swift motion, he loops the knife under the fabric and slices through, eliciting something between a gasp and a moan out of you.Â
"Wooyoung! Iâ"
"Shh," he interrupts you, smirking dangerously, "I'll buy you new ones." He throws your now ruined panties somewhere across the kitchen, and you hear them land with a soft thud. Your bare pussy is now fully revealed to him, and you feel heat coil inside youâhalf embarrassment, half arousal. You instinctively start to close your legs, and he lets out a soft, sharp tsk, amused.
"You think I'm letting you hide from me?" he asks, one brow lifting as he angles the knife deliberately between your thighs so that if you close them further, it'll draw blood. "I told you to relax." His voice stays calm, but it's clear that it's a warning. "I'm being nice and fucking you with my knife before my cock. Are you saying you want me to be meaner?"
The thought alone makes your breath stutter. You shake your head quickly, panic flickering at the edges of something hotter, the idea of him fucking you raw without any preparation sending a rush of nerves straight through you.
He clicks his tongue. "Words, baby."
"Nâno," you manage breathlessly.Â
"Then be quiet and let me play with you the way I want."
Your lips instantly press together at his words. Wooyoung holds your gaze for a moment longer, daring you to test him while already knowing you won't. Then, slowly, he guides your legs apart, his attention dropping to your cunt with a grin so unapologetically dirty it sends heat straight through you.
"Your pussy is so fucking pretty, baby. So wet." His eyes flick back up to yours. "All for me."
The blade never touches it directly. Instead, he lets it glide up your thigh, tracing a careful path over your skin. His expression shifts as he watches you reactâsatisfied, entirely in controlâlike this is exactly what he's been thinking about since he met you.
"Now," he says darkly, rolling his wrist as he twirls the knife between his fingers, now holding it by the blade instead of the handle. "My dick is much, much bigger than this. Which I'm sure you've already imagined based on how desperate you were for me to touch you."
He lowers the handle, letting it trace slowly over your folds. When it glides over your clit, he applies just enough pressure to make your breath stop.
"But," he adds, voice dropping, playful and dangerous in that way only he can manage, "everyone knows you don't jump straight to the main course." His eyes don't leave yours. "You savor the build. This?" His smile curves. "This is just our appetizer."
He aligns the end of the handle with your dripping hole, pushing it in slowly and cruelly. Your back arches instinctively off the counter as you let out a loud moan, eyes burning as the sensation becomes too much. The knife is so much bigger than his fingers, and it stretches you in a way that makes your entire body tremble. The pain is almost unbearable. Tears welling in your eyes threaten to fall.Â
But Wooyoung doesn't let up. If anything, his grin sharpens as he pushes the knife deeper, shushing you with soft, mocking murmurs whenever your moans fracture into cries.Â
"Just relax, baby," he says calmly, though his eyes tell a different story entirelyâlike every sound you make only feeds his amusement rather than tests his patience. "The more you relax, the less it'll hurt."Â
You try your best to steady your breathing, but the moment your pussy fully swallows the knife with one hard, final push, you break. Pain sears through you, something between a moan and a sob escaping your lips. Your hands clutch the edge of the counter, searching for something solid to hold onto, anything to anchor yourself against the intensity.
Wooyoung pouts every so slightly at you from above, his eyes locked on the way your cunt fully engulfs the handle of the knife. "Huh," he murmurs, amusement curling through his voice. "Look at that. A perfect fit."
He holds the knife in place, the sharp blade all that's left visible as the rest disappears from view. He watches you with dark eyes, studying every subtle shift as your breathing gradually even out, your body adjusting to the sensation. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the tension begins to shift, and what started as pain twists into pleasure.
"Wooyoung..." you whisper, voice trembling, chest still rising and falling slightly too fast as you look up at him through misted eyes. "It's... it's too..."
He shakes his head, smirking. "You're taking it even better than I thought, baby. Stay relaxed for me, yeah? Trust me, it'll feel a lot better if you do."Â
You throw your head back as he draws the knife out, only to quickly push it back in sharply, hitting a spot deeper than anything you've ever felt before. A loud, broken moan slips from your lips, the heat of the sensation pooling deep in your core.Â
He fucks you with the knife harder, faster, dragging almost completely out of your cunt before slamming it back inside just as quickly, the rhythm relentless. The devilish grin never once leaves his face. Your body jolts with each aggressive penetration, tears spilling freely now, the sensation toeing the line between overwhelming and intoxicating.Â
"Fuckâ" you cry out, fingers whitening as they curl around the edge of the counter and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Wooyoung just chuckles, picking up the speed, pressing down lightly on your stomach with his free hand.Â
"Feels good, right, baby?" he asks, voice warm, bottom lip puffed out in that infuriating way he does when he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. "I knew you'd like this."
âSo⊠so good,â you moan out, the words slipping free without being fully aware of what you're even saying. Your mind feels foggy, your head swimming as pleasure takes over. Everything else fades into the backgroundâthe room, the noise, even himâuntil all youâre aware of is the steady, consuming feeling of the knife inside your pussy.
Wooyoung grins menacingly. "Fucking whore," he all but growls. "A virgin who's about to cum from getting fucked by a knife." His degrading words only make you moan louder, your back fully arching off the counter. "Say my name, baby."
"WâWooyoung," you breathe out, the sound barely more than a whisper as your legs begin to tremble, the feeling of getting closer to your climax building until itâs almost too much to contain.
He flicks your clit lightly, clicking his tongue in quiet disapproval, eyes dark and focused as they track every change in your expression. âLouder,â he says, calm and demanding.
"Wooyoung!" you cry out, his name tearing free as the last of your thoughts dissolve, your mind going blissfully blank as you give in to the pleasure. He plays with your clit, fingers working in quick, firm circles, knowing exactly how close you already are and planning to take full advantage of it.
"Now be a good little slut and cum on my knife, yeah? Think you can do that?" he asks tauntingly, flashing a dangerous grin as he watches you unravel. Both his fingers and the knife pick up speed, the pace just fast enough to bring you closer, the feeling coiling tight in your core. Your eyes sting, vision blurring as the stimulation builds. Your pussy spasms around the knife, waves of orgasm crashing through you as you cry out. Wooyoung groans loudly at the sight, burying the handle in your clenched walls and holding it there, rocking it gently to ride out your climax.Â
When you calm slightly, Wooyoung finally pulls the knife out, a grin spreading across his face at the wet sound it makes. He lifts it to his eyes, staring at it with a look of satisfaction before slowly dragging his tongue along its length and groaning. The sight alone sends a lingering shiver through your worn-out body as your breathing gradually steadies.
"Tastes so good," he murmurs, tossing the knife casually into the sink and turning his attention back to you. His hand comes up to brush away the beads of sweat at your hairline. "If that's just a hint of your flavor, I'm gonna need a proper tasting later."
You blink at him, wide-eyed, brain still fuzzy.Â
Wooyoung just smiles, the familiar mix of smug confidence and casual ease, like the past few moments were nothing at all. "Alright," he says lightly, clapping his hands together and turning back towards the stove, "letâs eat. Hope the sauce didn't get too cold."
But your body isnât ready to move on so quickly. Your core aches from being stretched and tested, every nerve still buzzing. "WooyoungâŠ" you trail off, words faltering, thoughts refusing to line up into full sentences.
He pauses, eyes softening when he catches the haze in the way you're looking at him, the way your body seems both fragile and flustered. Leaning closer, he presses a steadying hand to your back, helping you upright, and smooths out the tangled strands of your hair.
"You did great, baby," he says quietly, pulling down your skirt to shield your body from the cold air. "I knew you would. You just have to trust me."
He gently lifts you, helping you carefully down from the counter and guiding your feet safely to the kitchen floor. You wobble a bit, still feeling the lingering tension in your limbs, and he chuckles softly at your unsteady legs.
"Go sit at the table," he instructs, tone casual but firm. "I'll serve you. Like a proper host."
You obey, carefully shuffling toward the dark wooden table just next to the kitchen, heart still racing, brain slowly starting to reboot. He casts you one last amused glance before turning back to finish the food, humming softly as he works.
Left alone, your thoughts begin to settleâbut your mind feels like itâs floating just above your body. Every nerve still hums from the intensity, leaving you wide-eyed and shaky. You stare at the table, feeling both dizzy and dazed.
What did I just let happen?
The apartment is quiet except for the faint clatter of him plating the pasta, but the memory of him, his lips, and the teasing weight of his gaze hangs over you, leaving your heart racing long after heâs turned his attention to dinner.
Wooyoung steps back from the stove, balancing the plates in one hand. You notice him pause, eyes flicking to the floor, where the ripped fabric of your panties lies. His grin twists into that infuriatingly charming smirk as he crouches just long enough to scoop it up. Without a word, he slips it into his pocket.
"I'll be keeping these," he says casually. "You know. For the memories."
You blink at him, a mix of shock and disbelief breaking through your haze, and a surprised laugh escapes. "The... memories?"
His eyes light up with playfulness. "Yeah. I've never fucked anyone with a knife before. Wouldn't forgive myself if I ever forgot it."
You shake your head, lips curving into a tentative smile. Itâs unfamiliar, this feelingâbut it isnât a bad one.Â
He straightens and strolls over to your spot at the table, setting the plates down in front of you with the casual air of someone whoâs won the day. As he takes the seat next to you, your eyes widen at the sight of the food. The pasta is plated beautifully: perfectly al dente spaghetti, glistening with golden olive oil, flecks of bright green parsley, and just the right hint of garlic scattered across each strand. Even the extra tomatoes thrown in add a subtle pop of color. It looks incredible.
"Looks perfect, right?" Wooyoung chuckles at your expression. "But you said you needed to taste it to know if it was really that good." Resting his elbows on the table, he leans in, confidence practically radiating off him, a single eyebrow cocked. âSo⊠try it.â
You pick up a fork, hesitating just a moment before twirling the pasta. The first bite hits your tongue, and your eyes nearly go wide enough to pop out of your head. The flavors are perfect. The garlic is perfectly toasted, the tomatoes give a gentle warmth that lingers just enough to keep every bite exciting, and the olive oil coats the pasta silkily. It's genuinely the best pasta you've ever had.
You glance up at Wooyoung, whose smug grin says he already knows exactly how youâll react. "Come on," he teases, soft but mocking, "Let me hear it: âOh my gosh, Wooyoung, this is insane! Youâre amazing, Wooyoung! Teach me your secrets! Oh, Wooyoung, please, cook for me every single day!'"
You roll your eyes, trying to look serious and unimpressed, but the corner of your mouth twitches, betraying you. "It's fine, I guess."
Wooyoung doesn't even flinch. "Uh-huh," he grins. Fork spinning lazily in his hand, he lifts a bite to his mouth, slurps it down, and exhales with a contented hum. "Wow. You're a lucky girl. This is some of my best work, if I do say so myself."
You scoff softly, giving up on trying to hide your smile. "Relax. It's just pasta," you say, lifting your fork while avoiding his amused stare. "You're acting like you reinvented food."
You take another bite anyway, knowing he's aware how delicious you really think it is. A faint streak of sauce falls from the fork to your cheek, unnoticed by you but immediately caught by Wooyoung.
His eyes flick to your face, and without asking, he leans in closer, thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he wipes it away. "Careful," he whispers, eyes locking onto yours as he pulls back. He gives you a quick wink. "I worked too hard on this for you to wear it."
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. "You're so corny."
"Hey!" His jaw drops in mock offense, but his eyes look pleased. "That's just part of my charm."
You drop your gaze to your plate, suddenly very interested in twirling your pasta. "If that's what you want to call it."
He watches you for a beat, savoring the way you won't meet his eyes. "Mm," he hums. "Didn't even argue. Must be true." Then he tilts his head, studying you like he's just spotted something interesting he hadn't noticed before. "Well, since you're clearly an expert on meâ"
You groan, "Oh my god."
"âtell me more about my charm," he finishes anyway. A grin tugs at his mouth. "What'd you think when you first met me, huh?"
You pause, fork hovering over your plate. "You're seriously asking that?"
"Very seriously," he nods. "I'm curious."
You hesitate, then sigh, resigned. "I thought you were almost annoyingly attractive," you admit. "Like, confident in a way that I shouldn't have liked."
Wooyoung's eyebrow lifts. "Shouldn't have?"
You nod, setting your fork down to explain. "Remember when San said I was gonna hate you? Normally, he would've been right," you say. "Any other guy with an ego like yours would've turned me off immediately. Loud, cocky, always needing to be the center of attention."
"But," he prompts lightly, leaning back in his chair, clearly loving every second of this.
"But," you continue, a little quieter, "with you, it just worked. You were so sure of yourself, like you didn't need anyone's approval. Not even mine."
He watches you closely now, the teasing ease giving way to something more focused. "You like confidence, but only when it's accurately placed," he says. "Good taste."
A few seconds pass before you add, almost as an afterthought, "You also weren't trying to force me to like you, either. You didn't just say what you thought I wanted to hear. And you didn't push when I said no."
Wooyoung nods slowly. "I liked that night a lot," he says. "You were content just doing your own thing. Drinking, talking, people-watching. Most people force themselves into the center of the room when they don't belong there."
You shift in your chair, suddenly wondering something similar. "What about me?" you ask. "I'm not really your usual type, am I?"
He doesnât answer right away. Instead, he takes his timeâfinishes his bite and chews slowly before setting his fork down, finally meeting your eyes.
"You're right," he says easily. "You're not."
Your expression stays neutral, but you donât look away. You wait.
That alone makes the corner of his mouth twitch.
"That's why you stood out," he continues, crossing his arms over his chest. He huffs a quiet laugh. "You think I didnât notice? The second I walked in, half the room turned to stare. Iâm used to that." He shrugs like itâs nothing. "People wanting to be seen. Wanting me to notice them."
He pauses. "But you didnât do that," he says. "You barely even looked up. And when you did, it wasnât because it was me. It was because something about me actually caught your interest."
You tilt your head, still not quite following, and he notices.
"Iâve met a lot of people who look good in a crowd," he goes on. "People who know exactly how to take up space and make noise so no one forgets them." His gaze stays locked on yours. "But you didnât care about the crowd at all."
His voice lowers, losing its playful edge.
"You made me forget it was there, too."
For a beat, thereâs no grin. Just honesty.
Then his smile returnsâsofter now, less showy. "Guess weâre opposites," he says, shrugging. "You disappear into your own little world, while I crash into every room I enter."
His eyes flick over your face, certain in his words. âBut somehow,â he adds, âit works.â
Oh. That's probably more than someone casually says to a hookup over pasta. Your thoughts take over as you look down at your plate, unsure of how to respond. He hadn't said any of it to impress you; he'd said it like it was simply the truth. People don't usually talk about noticing you like that. About remembering the quiet parts, and choosing you over the noise.Â
Wooyoung sees it right awayâthe way your thoughts visibly turn inward. So, naturally, he does what he does best.Â
His eyes flick down to your half-eaten plate before lifting back to your face, the familiar glint coming back. "So deep in thought," he teases lightly. "Keep looking like that, and I'm gonna start assuming you're imagining things you shouldn't be at the dinner table."
Your head snaps up. "What?"
His smirk slowly returns. "I'm just saying." His gaze dips again, this time unmistakably toward your skirt. "You're not wearing much under there. Wouldn't want you getting my chair all wet fromâ"
"Wooyoung!" you hiss, glancing around the room like someone might overhear, even though you're completely alone. "The only reason that would happen is because of everything you're saying."
He grins, wholly unrepentant. "Yeah," he says. "I know."
He looks down at your lips before he speaks again, as if he's replaying the events from earlier in his mind. "Think about everything you just let me do to you. All of it." He pauses for a second as you look away, heat crawling up your neck, clearly embarrassed to be talking about it out loud. "You're so shy, but youâre not innocent. You want the same things I do, you just donât always give yourself permission to admit it. Out loud⊠or even to yourself."
You flush, eyes falling to your plate. Your fingers twist around your fork, a nervous habit you donât bother hiding.
His expression turns smug, like he's won a game you weren't even playing. "I like that," he says, leaning in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence settle over you. "I really like that about you. Makes everything easier to handle."
You bite your lip, cheeks hot, focused on anything but him.
"That's why I'd treat you differently," he goes on, confidence threading back into his voice. "A girl like you doesnât need guessing games. You need someone who knows what theyâre doing. Someone who actually takes care of things.
âIâd cook for you,â he says more softly. âEvery meal, if youâd let me. Iâd plan nights that arenât about noise or showing offâplaces you actually want to be. Food youâve been curious about. Music that makes the crowd disappear again.â
He smiles, voice dropping into that teasing yet cocky cadence only he can pull off. "That's how I'd do it," he finishes. "Thatâs how Iâd treat a girl like you."
You draw in a long, steady breath. You don't say anything right away.
What is he saying?
Yeosangâs voice surfaces immediately, uninvited and annoyingly clear: Wooyoung doesnât do serious. You remember the way he said itâso certain, like it was a known fact instead of gossip. Wooyoung has never had a real relationship. He's never wanted one, and he's never needed one.
And now, he's sitting beside you, talking like this, like he's thought about you as something more than just a hookup.Â
You didn't come here tonight looking for that. You came here to forget... things. Things that have been completely absorbing your mind during classes, while studying, and even in your dreams at night. You came here to feel wanted without having to feel seen.
And instead, Wooyoung is doing both.
You feel your shoulders tense, a faint knot forming in your stomach. Is he serious? Or is this just Wooyoung being his confident, charming self, saying things without meaning to promise anything at all?Â
You don't voice any of it. You just look at Wooyoung, at the easy certainty in his posture, and you offer a small, careful smile.Â
"Yeah," you say quietly. "That actually sounds really nice."
The words hang there between you: simple, honest, and noncommittal.
"Nice?" Wooyoung repeats, amused. "That's it?"
You shrug, a hint of a real smile tugging at your mouth. "Don't push it."
He laughs under his breath, entertained. His eyes flick briefly to your plate, then back to you.
"Well," he says casually, shifting gears, "if dinner's been taken care of..." He pauses just long enough for you to know it's on purpose. "...that leaves dessert."
You blink. "Dessert?"
"Mm." His eyes drift over your body, unhurried. "Something sweet. I've got a few ideas."
Your face heats instantly. "Wooyoung."
He laughs, open and unashamed, shoulders shaking as he watches the realization dawn on you. "What?" he says, grinning. "I'm a chef. I always think about how a meal ends."
He then pushes his chair back and stands, gathering both plates with an ease that suggests heâs done this a hundred times before. As he carries them to the sink, he glances over his shoulder at you with a small smirk.
"First door on the left," he says casually, nodding in the direction. "Go wait for me in there while I clean up."
Then he turns back to the sink before you can respond. The faucet clicks on, water rushing over porcelain as he rinses the plates, completely relaxedâand pointedly not looking back again, like he knows you'll listen.
You hesitate for barely half a second before pushing your chair back and standing.
The sound of running water follows you down the short hallway, domestic in a way that makes your heart beat a little faster. You reach for the door he pointed to and ease it open.
Wooyoungâs bedroom greets you.
It's dark like the rest of the apartment. Warm, low light spills from a few small fixtures, catching on the dark walls and wood accents. The bed sits low and wide, black sheets rumpled just enough to look lived-in rather than messy. Posters and framed prints line one wall, bold and graphic, ones that look like they were chosen with taste rather than impulse. A desk sits tucked into the corner, neat but unmistakably used: books stacked with purpose, a laptop closed, and headphones resting where they belong.Â
You take a few steps inside, the door remaining ajar behind you. It's a little jarring, being alone in his space, the place he ends his nights and starts his morning.
Nevertheless, you perch on the edge of the bed, fingers pressing lightly into the mattress, and let your eyes wander again, taking it all in.
From down the hall, you can still hear him moving around the kitchen like heâs in no rush at all.
After a few moments, however, you hear the sound of the sink shut off. For a second, there's only quiet. Then you hear slow footsteps approaching and straighten instinctively, fingers curling slightly into the bedding as the doorway fills with him.
Wooyoung leans against the frame instead of coming all the way in, arms crossing loosely over his chest. "Comfortable?" he asks.
Your throat feels suddenly dry. "Iâ yeah."
A slow smile curves his mouth. "Good." He pushes off the frame and steps inside, letting the door close behind him with a soft click. "I was hoping youâd like it in here."
He walks closer to you and tilts his head slightly. "You look nervous again," he says softly, brushing a loose strand of hair back behind your ear and letting his hand slide under your chin, guiding your gaze up to him. "There's nothing to be scared of, baby," he promises, but with a sick, dirty look in his eyes. "You did so well for me earlier."
His hand stays firm at your chin, guiding your gaze as he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed beside you. You donât get the chance to look away. His thumb presses lightly, insistent, keeping you exactly where he wants you.
His other hand comes up next, fingers sliding into your hair, gathering it gently before drawing it forward to spill over one shoulder. The touch isnât rough, but it still makes your pulse stutter. He adjusts you, turning your face forward again, then tipping your head just enough to bare the skin of your neck to him.Â
"Mm," he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from his voice as he leans in close enough that you can feel his warm breath against your neck. "I like you like this. You listen so well... I don't even have to use my words."
Wooyoung's lips brush against your skin so lightly you think you're imagining it, before opening his mouth, baring his teeth, and sucking in hard. Your breath breaks on a gasp, your body jolting on instinct, but his grip on your chin holds you in place.Â
He holds the pressure, teeth sinking into the soft curve of your throat, not hard enough to break skin but certainly hard enough to leave a mark. When he finally pulls back with a quiet pop, his tongue smooths over the tender spot heâs left bruised.Â
"God, baby," he whispers, grinning down at the mark like he's just struck gold. "You taste so good." He tilts your face back toward him and groans when he sees your wide eyes looking up at him, completely submissive. "I'd love to get a taste of your pussy too," he admits, voice thick with desire, "but fuck, the way you're looking at me? I don't think I'll have the patience to savor this like I planned."
His hand slides from your chin to the hollow of your throat, thumb pressing harshly on the sensitive spot he just bruised as he pulls you in, crashing his lips against yours roughly and impatiently.Â
You gasp as his mouth claims yours. The force of the kiss sends shockwaves through your body, and his hand, squeezing tightly and possessively around your throat, only amplifies them.Â
"Open up for me," he growls against your lips, pressing more firmly against the side of your neck, eliciting a desperate moan from you. "That's it, baby."
Wooyoung takes advantage of the sound and shoves his tongue down your throat with raw need, groaning as you give into him without thinking, allowing yourself to melt further into his touch. His tongue melts against yours in a deep, hungry rhythm, his free hand fisting the fabric at the bottom of your sweater and tugging harshly.Â
"I want this off," he says roughly, breaking the kiss to grip your sweater and pull it over your head in a single, impatient motion, grinning when you're left in only your bra. His dark, lidded eyes drift over your body, as if he's memorizing the sight, already consuming you with just his gaze. He trails his hands up your back hungrily, watching your every little reaction with dangerous attention. When his fingertips reach the clasp of your bra, there's no hesitationâhe undoes it easily with one hand, your breasts immediately spilling free as the bra falls forgotten to the floor.Â
His hands palm your breasts roughly, rolling your nipples between his fingers as his smirk deepens with dark delight. "I should punish you for hiding these from me all night," he murmurs, thumbs and pointer fingers suddenly twisting hard, sending sparks of pain shooting through your nerves. Your body arches instinctively under his touch as you cry out, craving more, the pain feeling more pleasurable than you ever could've imagined. "But unfortunately," he continues lowly, thumbs brushing over your nipples teasingly as if it'll help soothe the pain, "my dick can't wait any longer for you."
He pushes you back against the mattress, your head bouncing slightly from the sudden force. Rising to the edge of the bed, his eyes rake over you with a hungry intensity as he peels his T-shirt off and tosses it carelessly onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You canât help the small drop of your jaw at the sight of his defined torso.
Of course, he notices. "Like what you see, baby?" he asks, mockery lacing his tone, smirk growing as he slowly, teasingly unzips his jeans. He doesn't even bother to take them off as he climbs over you, his body pinning yours to the sheets. His lips trail hungrily over the sensitive curve of your neck as his hands move with purpose, pulling your skirt off and leaving you completely exposed beneath him.
Wooyoung lifts his head, staring down at your bare pussy with a wicked grin. "Holy shit, baby... you're soaked again," he laughs cruelly, dragging his digits slowly between your folds, shaking his head in mock disbelief and muttering something about how much of a slut you have to be to get that wet so quickly. He bites his lip as he spreads you open with two fingers, eyes darkening when your hips jerk, betraying your desperate need to be touched.
"So impatient..." he mutters, grinning as he starts pulling down his jeans just enough to free what he needs. "Think I stretched you out enough earlier, yeah? You think a virgin pussy like yours is ready to take my cock?"
You whimper, nerves tangling as he pulls out his length with a knowing smirk, watching your reaction. Your brain malfunctions for a secondâhe's huge. At least four inches longer than the knife, and much, much thicker, too. Your eyes go wide, and suddenly, your apprehension overcomes how desperate you are for him.
"Wooyoung, I... I won't be able... to..." you start, voice breaking. His smirk only deepens, eyes brightening with delight. "It's too big... Iâ"
"Shh, baby," he hushes you, one hand sliding behind your head to tilt it, angling it perfectly down so you can watch the tip of his cock line up against your entrance. "The only thing I wanna hear coming out of that mouth from now on are your pretty moans, okay?"Â
Without any warning or preparation, Wooyoung slowly pushes inside you, his hands pressing against the sides of your hips to pull your body towards himself. You cry out an involuntary, deafening moan as you feel the sudden pain practically splitting you in half, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You're still far too tight, nowhere near loose enough to take his length, but he forces it anyway, insistent on taking you the way he wants, groaning deeply at how tightly your cunt is swallowing him.Â
"Fuck..." he groans, eyes wild and crazed with lust as he bottoms out, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. He hooks his arms under your legs, spreading them even wider, gripping your hips with a strength that makes you shiver. "Such a filthy fucking slut, taking my entire cock, a little virgin..." He can feel himself twitching inside your tight, warm cunt, the urge to forego all worries of hurting you and pounding into you the way he desires growing stronger with every second. "So fucking pretty like this, all desperate for me."
Your body trembles beneath him, tears welling as he begins to move inside you slowly with long, deep, measured strokes. His gaze locks onto yours, so dangerous and intense that it melts your thoughts into a haze. Each controlled thrust sends shivers straight through you, every motion walking a thin line between pain and pleasure that leaves your body tingling and silently begging for more.Â
"WâWooyoung!" you cry out as his thrusts pick up speed, your brain fogging and stomach coiling with pleasure. Your body is achingly sensitive and sore, but he doesn't relent, using you as his own fucktoy, moving with a rhythm both smooth and rough. Your breath hitches out, ragged and whiny, and he grins down at you sickeningly.Â
Every drag of his cock inside your trembling pussy makes you moan out time after time, your throat quickly becoming raw. He growls at the slick sounds of him slipping in and out, your own arousal making it easier for him to thrust faster. His expression darkens, hungry and teasing, as he watches your reaction.Â
"Knew you'd be soâfuckâfucking perfect for me," he groans, angling his hips up to fuck you deeper, finding that one spot that makes your back arch high off the mattress. He hits it instantly, causing you to clench around him so hard that he releases a low, uncontrollable moan, mouth parting in pleasure as his eyes squeeze shut. "Shit, baby, is my dick that good?"
"Fâfuck!" you cry, cunt clenching and eyes rolling to the back of your head as he forces his cock even deeper inside you. "Soâso good!"Â
Wooyoung suddenly pulls out, looping an arm around your waist as he flips your body around with controlled force, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing you face-down into his pillow. One hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping tightly onto your waist, he drives each thick inch of his cock back inside you, anchoring your hips against his so you feel every throb of his length inside your drenched pussy.Â
He sets the rhythm again, yanking on your hair with every deep thrust, forcing your entire body to arch against his own. He fucks you like you were made just for him, taking his dick with a hunger that matches his own, tears streaming down your cheeks as the sensation overwhelms you, the pressure being all too much for your first time.Â
A sharp slap against your ass makes you gasp, and you choke on your breath as a low, cruel laugh rumbles from behind you. His chest presses firmly against your back as he thrusts even harder, with more force, sucking and biting all over your neck and leaving a trail of bruises down your skin. Â
"Look at you... taking my cock like this," he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. You can practically hear the wicked curve of his lips, the growl in his tone that vibrates through him. "All marked up for me... tastes so fucking good... the best meal I've ever had."Â
Your knees wobble beneath you, a cry spilling from your lips as his name leaves them over and over like an involuntary chant. Wooyoung has gone feral now, lost in the moment, pressing into you with a reckless abandon, slamming his hips into yours with no sense of rhythm, just chasing his own high.Â
"Come on, baby," he breathes heavily against your neck, nibbling hard on the skin just under your ear. His dick pulses and twitches inside you with growing intensity. "Be the good slut you are and come around my cock, yeah?"Â
Each word of his hits harder than the last, sending sparks straight down to your core and dragging you closer to the edge. With a few more deep, rough thrusts, you're doing exactly what he asked, coming around his length, thighs shaking violently, screaming out his name.
"Wooyoung!"Â you moan, muscles quivering uncontrollably as he rides your high, picking up speed like he's drunk on your juices. Your orgasm shocks through you in waves, and with one final, shuddering moan, your body surrenders fully as you feel him cum inside you, painting the inside of your cunt with his own release.Â
He stays inside you for a few long moments, his weight warm and solid behind you, heartbeat thudding steadily against your back. Both of you are breathing hardâragged, uneven breaths that slowly begin to sync as the intensity ebbs away. His room feels almost hazy, like you're not even fully physically present anymore.
Your eyes flutter shut, lashes resting against overheated skin as the adrenaline finally starts to drain from your body. Every muscle feels spent, overworked, trembling with the awareness of how much you've just been put through. Your thoughts soften as exhaustion pulls at you, tempting you toward sleep.
Eventually, Wooyoung shifts, pulling out of you and rolling over. He collapses onto the bed beside you, one arm flung out like he isn't quite sure where to put it yet.
It takes effort, but you manage to roll onto your back. Your body feels heavy yet boneless, like you might just melt straight into his sheets at any second. You lift your head just slightly to look at the damage done to your bodyâthe faint marks on your skin and drops of his release left behind.Â
The room is quiet now except for the sound of your breathing. You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the reality of what just happened sink in while your body slowly comes back to itselfâspent, sore, and utterly worn out.
Wooyoung, unsurprisingly, is the first to break the silence. He lets out a quiet laugh, eyes half-lidded as he turns his head and looks you over, taking his time like he's trying to remember it.
"Be honest with me," he begins, and you turn your head to glance back at him through your lashes. "What was better: dinner or dessert?" He pauses, clearly pleased with himself. "Actually... I'll be generous. I'll even count the appetizer, if you want."
You let out a quiet laugh despite not really feeling up to joking around. Your eyes roll once before drifting back up to the ceiling.
"Wow," you murmur, voice hoarse and dry. "You really never miss an opportunity to be full of yourself, do you?"
He laughs easily, hooking an arm around you and pulling you in closer until you're tucked against his chest. He dips his head, lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice intentionally quiet.
"I'm pretty sure you're the one full of me right now, baby."
You let out a weak giggle, letting your eyes slowly flutter shut. Thereâs a faint smile on your lips, but it doesnât quite settle. The humor fades almost as quickly as it came, leaving something heavier in its place. You swallow, fingers curling into the sheets at your sides as your chest rises and falls.
Wooyoung feels so easy. Effortless in the way he fills the space beside you, as though he belongs there without ever having to ask. Thatâs what makes it dangerous, you think distantly.
Your mind starts doing what it always doesâwandering just a step too far ahead. Wondering what this is, and what it isnât. Wondering how something can feel so right in the moment and still feel like itâs missing a future when you look at it too closely.
You donât open your eyes. You donât say anything. Instead, you let yourself stay there, suspended in the afterglow of something fun and fleeting, wondering if this could ever be something real, or if it's the kind of connection meant to burn bright, but not forever.
@ queenofsa1gon, 2026. please do not steal, copy, or translate my work! thank you <33
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