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The worst thing about seeing a movie on opening day is that you have to wait for the entire rest of the world to see it before you see any relevant media.
Girls' day was supposed to be a distraction. Instead it comes with an uninvited third wheel only she can see, and a conversation that leaves her with more questions than answers. Some things, apparently, are bigger than one bad boyfriend.
Your alarm blared directly into your skull like it had a personal vendetta against you. And considering how hard you would eventually smack your phone to turn it off, it probably did.
You groaned, slapping blindly at your nightstand until your hand connected with your phone and silenced it. 10am. You slowly cracked one eye open, saw the little weekend icon on your lock screen, and nearly wept with relief.
No work. No school. No responsibilities. Just you, your bed, and the absolute war crime of a hangover currently happening inside your head.
You slowly turned till you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, letting your brain slowly reboot. Your mouth tasted like something had died in it. Your temples throbbed in time with your heartbeat, at least that’s what it sounded like. Every part of you was radiating the specific, sacred suffering of someone who'd had way too much absolute vodka on an empty stomach.
You unlocked your phone, wincing at the brightness, and were greeted with a wall of texts.
#1hee♥️: Text me when ur up i wanna make sure u didn't die
Chae 🌊🐚: Lemme know when you wake up so I can Uber you food ok babe?
Martin: None of your stuff is missing! You forgot your purse in my car when I dropped you off. Call me when you need it back 😝
Jon-Moo 💙: Hey, sorry i missed our date, long day, talk tmrw?
You let out a sigh, he hadn't texted you since then. Not even to check up or anything. You turned off your phone, deciding not to give so much attention. You didn't have the bandwidth for that conversation on four hours of sleep and a hangover this catastrophic.
You reached toward your nightstand for the painkillers you usually kept there, patting around blindly, only to remember that they were still sitting in your kitchen. Of course they were.
You sat up slower this time, and that's when it hit you.
You were in your pajamas.
Your cute yellow matching two piece soft set,the one you’d typically wear after an everything shower. Not after a night out.
You looked around your room.
Your dress from last night, the one Wonhee and Yoonchae had picked out, was hung neatly over your desk chair instead of crumpled on the floor where you definitely would've left it. Your makeup was washed off, hair tucked safely in your bonnet, and now that you thought about it…
Your phone was being charged which was something you definitely did not do.
"Okay…" you murmured to your empty room. "How did I get into my bed."
You sat for a second, brow furrowed, and then, slowly, the memory surfaced.
The kitchen. The wooden spoon. A man leaning against your counter looking like he'd been carved out of a magazine, telling you he was your guardian angel, saying something about your boyfriend that made your face go hot.
You laughed out loud.
"Right," you said. "Because that definitely happened."
You must've put on some show when you stumbled in last night, some late-night drama with a hot lead actor, and your exhausted, hungover brain had apparently decided to weave it into a whole vivid dream. That tracked.
It made waaaay more sense than the alternative…
Satisfied with that explanation, you dragged yourself out of bed, wrapped yourself in a blanket like a burrito with legs, and shuffled toward the kitchen, letting your craving for water and painkillers guide you.
Upon getting into your living room, you paused.
The TV was on and some movie was playing. You could hear the familiar laugh of Ashley Albright, main character of ‘Just My Luck’ coming from the screen. And sitting on your couch, feet up on your coffee table, was him.
Two plates sat on the table in front of him. Both were full and somehow still steaming.
"Oh my god." Your voice came out strangled. "You're real."
He didn't even look away from the TV. "Took you long enough."
"I'm calling the cops–" you stuttered.
That got his attention.
He turned, brow raised, watching you fumble through your blanket-burrito arms so you could grab your phone out of your pocket, thumb already jabbing at the screen.
You didn't even fully know what you were going to say.
'Hey 911. There's a strange man in my kitchen who broke in and made breakfast and might also be lying about being an angel’
It felt like a lot to get out coherently, but you were going to try.
You barely got the call to ring once before he was suddenly right in front of you.
You were sure he hadn’t walked or crossed the room. He was just there, close enough that you nearly dropped the phone in surprise, plucking it gently out of your hand before you could react and hanging up the call before whoever picked up on the other end could get a word out.
"Cute." He said it like an observation, not a compliment, voice casual and amused like you hadn't just watched him teleport across your kitchen. You genuinely couldn't tell if he meant you or the situation.
"What were you gonna tell them, huh? 'Officer, there's a guy in my kitchen who teleports.'" He cried, feigning a high-pitched voice as though to mock you.
You stared at him, then slowly looked to your now-empty hand, back at him, then at your phone that was now sitting in his hands.
"How," you said, slow, "did you do that."
"Guardian angel," he reminded you, tone light, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He handed your phone back, unbothered, already turning to head back to the couch and his very much still steaming plate of food. "Kinda comes with the job."
—
After much coercing, he’d finally gotten you to agree to eat breakfast with him.
You sat as far away from him as possible as he made himself comfortable on your couch. Handing you a plate of the hot food that was on the table and unpausing the movie.
You eyed him wearily as you took a bite out of the food only to gasp in surprise.
It was delicious.
You felt your hangover slipping away with the first bite alone.
“Do you always drink that much?” He asked, probably remembering the wiped out state you had been in the night before.
“Aren’t you supposed to know?” You grumbled childishly, rolling your eyes.
You heard him chuckle, but he didn’t say anything.
You had so many questions running through your head.
Was he genuinely an angel? Like actually?
You looked at him from the corner of your eye.
I mean, he sure had the looks of an angel. And there was a kind of light presence to him, like he made the room brighter. It was kinda burning your eyes but that was probably just cause of the hangover.
…
No it wasn’t the hangover he was literally glowing.
You fully turned to face him, eyes squinted as you studied him. He seemed to be entranced, his eyes glazed over as he stared ahead of himself.
“Hello…” you mumbled, slowly crawling over the pillows to his side. Once you were close enough, and he still hadn’t reacted, you waved a hand in front of his eyes, “Angel guy?”
You were starting to realize he hadn't told you his name.
With the words out of your mouth, he disappeared in a flash of light. The brightness startling you and causing you to fall over, food spilling onto the couch.
You let out an annoyed huff, tongue poking at your cheek as you struggled to find the words to describe your anger. “What on earth…”
After a few minutes of not moving, you slowly nodded to yourself. It was probably all a hallucination. Sure there were still two plates– well one plate of food on the low coffee table; the other was spilled on your couch and shirt and a movie that you hadn’t chosen playing on the tv, but you could ignore those inconsistencies.
There was no angel.
You were just crazy.
That had to be it.
“Y/N LET US INNN”
You jumped at the loud banging at your door, familiar voices calling out to you. Picking up your phone, you groaned upon noticing the fresh 17 missed calls from Wonhee and Yoonchae.
Slowly picking yourself up, you walked over to your door and unlocked it, immediately getting engulfed in a tight hug.
“I thought you had died,” Wonhee wailed dramatically, trinkets on her purse jingling as she bounced with her hands wrapped around you.
“Why would you have thought that?” You asked.
“Well considering you left us on ‘read’ for a good two hours after drinking so much yesterday, you can’t really blame us.” Yoonchae huffed, sounding annoyed but you could tell from the pout on her lips that she was just worried.
You apologized and lead them over to your living room, pausing in your steps when you noticed that the chair had been magically cleaned up even though you were 1000% sure that you’d spilled food over it.
And yourself…
Looking down, you noticed that your pajamas had been restored to their clean state.
Seeing that you hadn’t sat down yet, Wonhee called out to you, “Y/n are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You shook your head, slowly sinking into the space between them, “Just tired.”
They nodded, beginning to discuss details of the get-together turned party the night (morning) prior, but all you could think of was the clean stains.
‘I’m going crazy’
—
“So has he texted you anything since?”
As it turned out, the girls had planned to stay over the entire day. They’d changed into pj’s as well, the three of you deciding to make your living room your base of operations.
Yoonchae was splayed out on your couch, rapidly texting someone , you suspected it was her situationship, on her phone.
You and Wonhee were sitting on the rug in front of her, your hand in Wonhee’s as she painted your nails, giving you french tips.
A Drake song had been playing in the background, tv playing some youtuber all three of you liked on low volume, safe to say the vibes were immaculate.
“No. And he hasn’t called either,” You shrugged, responding to Wonhee’s question.
“Can you break up with him today or something?” Wonhee grumbled, looking at you with her eyes wide and pleading.
Using your free hand, you pushed her head away as you laughed, “Not yet.”
“But whyyyyyyy,” she whined in confusion, fighting the urge to flop around on the floor.
Yoonchae chuckled from where she laid on the couch, eyes moving between her phone and Wonhee, “She’s right. Why not?”
Honestly, you had no idea.
He didn’t treat you nicely and your eyes had somehow been opened just recently. He hadn’t even checked up on you after ditching you on what was supposed to be your date. He was so bad to you so why wouldn’t you let him go?
“I’ve been wondering the same thing.” A low voice spoke up from beside you.
With a gasp, you yelled, getting as far from the voice, you couldn’t get that far cause the couch was right next to you, as possible.
“You know, most angels say I have a very calming presence, so this is a first.” He hummed, eyes on you as he obviously struggled to suppress a grin.
“What the hell are you doing back here?” You asked through gritted teeth.
“You miss me?” He smirked.
“Y/n… is everything alright?”
You suddenly remembered you hadn’t been alone. Your head turned to face the girls who were looking at you in concern. Yoonchae had even put her phone down and sat up.
You nodded your head rapidly, it probably didn’t look as reassuring as it should’ve but it would do. “I-i need to goooo get something from my room!” you put on a wide smile before getting up and sprinting out.
Hoping the man would follow you.
—
Fortunately, he did.
“I don’t understand why you’re so confused. This isn’t the first time I’ve appeared in front of you.” He reminded you, eyes tracking your body as you paced back and forth from where he sat on your bed.
“Don’t make it sound like you’ve done this a million times before when it’s only been three times.” You scoffed, hand sliding down your face.
Your brain seemed to be in hyper drive. What would you tell your friends??
‘Hey, just so you guys know there’s an angel following me around because who knows what for who knows how long. Don’t worry I'm pretty sure he won’t kill any of us.’
You couldn’t tell but his eyes softened as he watched you pace anxiously.
It wasn’t his first time watching you spiral, not that you’d known that, but for once he could actually help.
Or at least try to?
“If it makes you feel any better, they can’t see me.”
You paused in your steps, no wonder the girls had looked so worried. They thought you were speaking to yourself. With a sigh, you flopped on the bed next to him.
“I thought I was insane”
“I know,” he hummed. “Should’ve explained what was happening.”
You sat up, picking up on the more serious notes in his tone.
He looked down at you from where you sat next to him, a small smile on his lips. "I was getting the proper details of my assignment."
"Assignment?"
He paused before nodding, assuming you wouldn't remember most of the very short conversation you had the night before.
"My boss," he pointed up and you assumed he was pointing to heaven, "has been paying close attention to your life. Apparently, there's something wrong with the plan he had set up for you."
He held eye contact with you and you swallowed hard.
He really was handsome, soft brown eyes that seemed to be able to read your entire soul… what had he been talking about?
He suddenly broke out into a smile, "Focus y/n"
What wouldn't you give for him to say your name again.
"Y/n~" he called out, finally successfully snapping you out of your trance.
"Hm?"
He smiled but it gradually disappeared into something more serious. "Typically we angels don't even have to manifest as humans. But apparently you were a special case."
Y/n scoffed, she'd already assumed he was speaking about her boyfriend, even the heavenly beings seemed to hate him. "Is it that serious? I get it, he sucks, but like, they really needed to make me see you?"
"It's more serious than you think," he said carefully.
"That's not ominous at all." You sighed, pinching at your nose bridge.
"You'll know when you need to know." He said it gently, but there was something firm underneath it. "For now just trust that this isn't just about him being a bad boyfriend. This is bigger than that."
You sat with that a second, the warmth from a minute ago cooling into something closer to unease. "Bigger how."
He shook his head, a very clear sign that he couldn’t tell you.
You didn't push, not because you didn't want to, but because something in his face told you pushing wouldn't get you anywhere tonight. You filed it away instead, next to everything else about the last twenty four hours you hadn't fully processed, and let yourself focus on the part you could actually hold onto.
"Okay," you said quietly. "Soooooo how long are you sticking around, then. Until whatever this is gets fixed?"
For the first time in minutes, the corner of his lips picked up and he smirked.
"As long as it takes."
(Since so many people have asked, the angel is Juhoon guys 😭😭 Sorry if the pacing seems slow rn, I just like having context before getting into the main stuff)
IN SUMMARY : Dispatch releases a statement claiming Kwon Ohyul & Y/n L/n are in a relationship. Absolutely no one believes it. Here's the thing...Kwon Ohyul & L/n Y/n are actually in a relationship.
Pause ⏸ : I had fun w this one. Isso cute. 3 PHOTOS AT THE END!
prev | next
The live had been going for maybe twenty minutes and it was, by all accounts, completely uneventful.
Which was fine.
Ohyul had his chin propped in his hand, scrolling through the chat at a pace that suggested he was reading maybe one in every fifteen comments, and Louis was beside him eating a bag of chips, ignoring the many that fell into his lap.
"Chat what are we on?" Louis asked, mouth full.
The comments were moving fast. Mostly people saying hello, asking about the next comeback, telling Louis his hair looked good, telling Ohyul his hair looked good, asking if they'd eaten, random statements in an attempt to catch their attention.
You know, the standard questions thrown at someone when they're a k-pop idol.
Then Louis squinted at something in the chat.
"Hyung."
"Hm?"
"Have you seen the Catalyst interview?"
Ohyul didn't look up from the chat, but turned slightly to face the younger member, obviously interested. "Which one?"
"The puppy one."
A pause so small you'd almost miss it. "No."
He didn’t know there had been an interview, his girlfriend typically told him about her interviews as soon as she found out so why….
Louis looked at him for exactly one second. Then he turned to the monitor.
"Chat," he said, with the energy of someone about to do something completely unnecessary, "should I pull it up."
The comments exploded immediately.
YES. DO IT.
YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME!!! ♥️♥️♥️
PULL IT UP.
GUYS I JUST JOINED WHATS GOING ON???
PLEASE WATCH IT!! YOU HAVE TO SEE IT.
"Okay okay okay," Louis said, already moving, chips abandoned. "We're watching it. Hyung, we're watching it."
"Louis—"
"We're watching it."
—
He found the timestamp he was looking for within thirty seconds, which said a lot about how much he'd already watched it himself.
The clip started mid-interview, Catalyst seated with puppies everywhere, some fan questions already in progress. Louis propped the monitor so the chat could see the reflection, then settled back with his chips like he was about to watch a movie.
Ohyul looked at the screen with the expression of someone who was very confused.
The first part was calm enough. Isol on the floor, Jihye with the shoulder puppy, Jasmine holding hers like a normal person. And then you, completely unbothered, two puppies already claimed, in the middle of a staring contest with a third.
Louis pointed at the screen, specifically at the puppy staring up at Y/n. "That one looks like you hyung."
"It doesn't."
“It has your face."
"Louis."
"I'm just saying—"
"It doesn't have my face."
The chat agreed with Louis immediately.
Eventually, the ideal type question came up on screen and Louis sat up straighter.
On the monitor, the interviewer asked. Isol answered. Jasmine answered. Jihye answered suspiciously specific.
Then the camera found you.
Louis glanced sideways at Ohyul, whose eyes had locked onto the screen with an insane amount of focus the second you’d appeared.
On screen, you looked up from the puppy with an expression of someone who had absolutely been listening and absolutely didn't want to be called on.
"I mean... I have a boyfriend so."
“So?”
"So he's my ideal type I guessssss."
Louis made a sound of awe and disgust, hiding his face behind the chip bag but very blatantly watching for Ohyul’s reaction. "She said guessssss—"
"I heard."
"Hyung she said it like that—"
"I heard, Louis." Ohyul's ears had gone the faintest shade of pink. He was looking at the monitor with an expression he was clearly trying to keep neutral and was not fully succeeding at.
The chat noticed immediately. The comments were moving so fast they were barely readable.
HIS EARS. LOOK AT HIS EARS.
OHYUL YOUR EARS.
I literally don’t know what bro sees in her 💀
HE'S TRYING NOT TO SMILE.
Louis was already pointing. "Hyung your ears~"
"They're always like that."
"You suck at lying."
"Focus on the video before I punch you in the face."
Louis obeyed.
On screen you were mid-description now, looking at the puppy in your lap instead of the camera, voice quieter than usual.
"Like… if I was having a horrible day, he'd somehow already know before I could say a word. And then he'd figure out a way to make me feel better immediately..."
The clip held on your face for a moment after that. The way you'd drifted somewhere else entirely, completely unaware of the camera, of the girls watching you, of any of it.
The studio had gone quiet on screen.
It was quiet on the live too.
Louis had stopped eating his chips. He looked at Ohyul slowly, trying so hard not to squeal. Louis couldn’t ruin his bad boy persona.
Ohyul was watching the monitor with his chin still propped in his hand, the same position he'd been in for the last ten minutes. But something about it was different now, the way his eyes glazed over as he listened to his girlfriend speak, his expression similar to the one she had on in the video once she’d started daydreaming.
Just watching.
"Hyung," Louis said, very carefully.
"Hm."
"You good?"
"Yea."
Louis looked at him for a long moment. Then back at the screen.
On the monitor, Jasmine was saying “who are you right now” in a low voice and Isol was staring at you like you'd grown a second head.
"She was talking about you," Louis said.
"I know."
"Ew."
"Louis."
"I'm just saying—"
"I know," Ohyul said. Still looking at the screen.
Louis pressed his lips together. Looked at the chat, which was absolutely losing its mind, and decided that for once in his life he was gonna shut up.
He picked his chips back up.
They watched the rest of the clip in silence.
—
The confident part came on.
"The ones who don't believe it are probably just upset, it's not them. Which is valid. I get it, my boyfriend's hot."
Louis choked on a chip, which is actually so extra of him now that i think about it, considering he’s already watched this video multiple times.
Ohyul finally, finally, looked away from the monitor. He put his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. Set it back down. Eyes fully zoning out of reality, he knew his face had probably gone a different colour but his reaction was too obvious to play off.
"She said—" Louis was coughing, desperately trying to grab his water bottle. "Hyung she called you—"
"I heard."
"HOT. She said hot. On camera."
"Louis, we're watching it at the same time. I heard when she said it you idiot–"
After successfully clearing his throat, Louis snapped back at him. “Okay well, If it wasn’t for me, you probably wouldn’t have known this interview existed cause Y/n-Nonna most definitely did NOT want you to watch this."
Ohyul tried to hide a smile, letting his head drop and running a hand through his hair.
The chat had completely given up on forming coherent sentences. It was just. Emojis. Thousands of them.
Ohyul looked at the camera for the first time in several minutes. He seemed to be searching for something to say. He opened his mouth.
You've spent months pretending Ohyul doesn't exist. You were too popular for a "nerd," too annoyed by how unbothered he always seems. Then one party, one too many drinks, and one wrong door later, you're stuck in his room with no filter left and nowhere to hide.
TS CAME TO ME IN A DREAM (capitalization may be off randomly)
As one of the more popular students in your school, it was your job to stay distant from nerds.
Well, not necessarily your job, but it was one of the many hierarchical expectations placed upon your shoulders.
They were known as losers and such, something you were never supposed to even think of getting near.
Which is why it was so unfortunate that you had a massive crush on one.
It wasn’t even fair to call him a nerd.
He was captain of the soccer team, student vice president, a well known tutor, and his roommate, Ryul, was literally the school's most popular football player.
Whose house you were in at the very moment.
It was nothing new. Your friend Manon had texted you about some party Ryul was hosting for whatever reason and you’d immediately accepted the invite.
However, you had a bit more to drink than what you’d originally planned and now the party with overwhelming you. You could feel the bass in your bones, and the stench of smoke and drinks were clogging your nose. You could barely hold yourself up, something that always seemed to happen once you got drunk enough.
You walk, more like crawled, up the stairs to just isolate yourself for a moment, walking into a room, praying no random couple was in there doing indescribable things. But what you got was much worse.
You’d walked into Ohyul’s room.
Ohyul was a 'nerd', at least according to the people who decided glasses and good grades were enough to put someone in that category.
In all honesty, you’ve always found him hot.
Not just because he was attractive. That part was obvious.
It was the way he carried himself.
Ohyul was dependable in a way that annoyed you.
He was the person people went to when they needed help, whether it was catching up on missed assignments, understanding a difficult topic, or just having someone patient enough to listen. He was the type of person teachers trusted without hesitation and classmates relied on without even thinking twice.
Even on the soccer field, where everyone expected him to be competitive and intense, he was never the type to make everything about himself. He led without needing everyone to notice he was leading.
And maybe that was what bothered you the most.
Because you were used to people wanting something from you. Your attention, your approval, your opinion.
But Ohyul never seemed to need any of that.
He was just... steady.
Calm.
Someone you could lean on.
And you hated how much you wanted to.
But he was a loser.
At least that’s what you repeated to yourself constantly to fight the annoying feelings you always got when around him.
"Can I help you?"
You hear him ask, looking up from his phone.
“I’m not sure…” you mumbled, trying to keep your eyes open wide though you could feel the pressure of the drinks you had weighing down on them.
Ohyul slowly sat up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The dim light from the lamp on his desk cast soft shadows across his face—sharp jawline, full lips, those unfairly long lashes.
He studied you for a second, the way your perfectly styled braids had a loose strand falling over, how your dress hugged every part of you like it was custom made (it probably was).
You were Y/n L/n.
Very popular, very rich, very ‘Queen Bee’, very much in his room, swaying on your feet.
"You're drunk," he stated flatly, not unkindly. Just factual.
“Is that what this is?” You giggled, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for the well timed sarcastic joke.
Ohyul exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. He wasn’t the type to find drunk people amusing.
Usually.
But you? You were different.
"You’re gonna fall," he said quietly, and before he could stop himself he reached out and caught your arm just as your knee buckled slightly.
“Yea i seem to do that alot…” you mumbled slowly, brain trying to organize your thoughts before speaking. “But I usually say it out loud first so don’t worry”
His grip stayed firm around your arm. He didn’t let go even when you steadied yourself. Part of him knew he should push you out of the room and lock the door.
And honestly he should’ve just listened to that part of him. The reasonable side. But he didn’t and played along with you.
"You usually announce it first?" he asked, voice low with quiet amusement now. "Like some kind of royal decree?"
You laughed, all smiles at the thought. Slowly pulling back and shaking your head, standing in the center of the room once more as though to demonstrate what you meant.
Once you felt the weight of the alcohol hitting your knees like before, you mumbled, “I’m gonna fall again…” and right on cue.
One second you were standing there and the next, your knees gave out like a deflated balloon.
He lunged forward, catching you just as your body started its graceful descent toward his floor. His arms wrapped around you tightly, one under your shoulders, one bracing against your back.
“That’s what I meant” you nodded, as though proud of yourself.
"Oh," he tried not to laugh at the innocence of it all.
He should’ve been annoyed. Should’ve shoved you off gently and said something like, "Go home before someone sees this," or better yet, called someone to come pick you up.
But instead he just sat there holding you, arms still locked around your wobbly frame like some kind of idiot bodyguard who’d forgotten his job description.
"You're ridiculous," he murmured, but there was zero bite in it.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips again.
“You’re pretty,” you responded using the same tone he did. And all of a sudden, it was like you drank a truth serum and couldn’t stop speaking. “I honestly don’t know why I’m so rude to you. I kinda just hate feelings, you know?”
What was this????
Ohyul paused.
Not because of the "you're pretty" comment, though that hit him like a freight train to the face.
But because of what you’d admitted after. The raw, slurred honesty. ‘I just hate feelings.’ That line cut through every assumption he’d ever had about you.
All this time, he’d thought you were cruel to him on purpose.
He’d seen you be kind to other classmates, even people that were waaaaaaay more quiet than him. you weren't necessarily a mean girl either which is why he felt as though you targeted him specifically.
You ignored him in the hallways, rolled your eyes when his name came up in conversations, and laughed once when someone called him "glasses." He assumed you enjoyed it. That you thrived on tearing him down.
And now? Now you were staring at him with glassy brown eyes full of something fragile… and admitting you hated emotions?
His throat went dry.
"...You don’t hate me?" he asked quietly.
You shook your head rapidly.
It got you even more dizzy, your hand gripping his shirt for extra stability. “I have this annoying thing where I struggle to be nice to people I like… it’s so stupid. Like my brain can’t handle the emotions so it makes me shut them out?”
Mentally, you were screaming at yourself to shut the hell up.
Ohyul’s pulse spiked when your fingers curled into his shirt. Soft, desperate little fists gripping the fabric like he was an anchor in a storm.
And then… you said it.
‘People I like.’
Not hate, not annoyance. Like. You liked him.
His glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he stared at you, the perfect girl who commanded everything with your icy stare and colder words, now dizzy and confessing emotional struggles to the man you’d supposedly despised.
It was surreal.
After a moment, you blinked quickly, as though sobering up a little and faced away from him.
The mental warning signs had finally made it through to the surface of your vision and you started to realize how much you were exposing. “I—” you were still too drunk to come up with an appropriate reason to not speak, and it didn’t help that you were struggling so hard to not absolutely melt in his hold.
You had a massive crush on him after all.
Ohyul felt the shift, the way your body tensed, how you suddenly turned away like hiding your face would erase what just happened. The warmth between you cracked for a second, replaced by awkward silence and the weight of too many feelings.
He didn’t let go. Not yet.
But he loosened his hold slightly, just enough to give you space without fully releasing you. His hands hovered near your shoulders now, unsure whether to pull back or do something else entirely.
The room was quiet except for the muffled bass from downstairs, the party still raging on while up here everything had gone soft and fragile in seconds.
"You don’t have to say anything," he murmured, "but I’m not letting go unless I know you won’t faceplant again."
You wanted to stay quiet. You really did. The rational sliver of your brain was begging you to just nod and let the silence sit there and cool off.
But his hands were still hovering near your shoulders, careful, patient, not pushing. And the way he was looking at you, like he'd wait as long as it took, like your silence didn't scare him off, that undid the little bit of self-control you'd managed to claw back.
You caved.
You smiled, still very loopy but a bit more careful with your words. “You’re too sweet to me,” Even now, after you got a bit closed off, he still tried to lighten the mood with his words.
The compliment hit Ohyul like a bomb. A warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with alcohol or body heat.
"I'm not being sweet," he denied, "I'm just… making sure you don't get brain damage from falling."
But even as he said it, one hand gently slid up to cradle the back of your head without thinking.
“And you’re so pretty,” you cooed, allowing yourself to slip into that vulnerable headspace again.
There it was again.
That word “pretty”
“It’s not fair…” you murmured, looking up at him as your finger gently traced over his features
His entire body went still, heart pounding, muscles locked, as your finger trailed gently over his cheekbone, then the curve of his jaw, brushing lightly across the bridge of his nose where his glasses rested.
No one had touched him like this before. Not ever. And when you looked up at him… those big brown eyes hazy with alcohol and something deeper… something tender…
It wrecked him.
"Not fair?" he whispered back, voice barely there.
The warmth in your touch made everything else disappear: the party downstairs, the noise outside this room, everything.
“You get me so worked up and flustered… and my heart beats so fast….” You brought his hand up and placed it over your chest, a pout on your lips. “I’m so embarrassed that I like you this much so I get mean… I’m too shy to face you properly”
Ohyul’s palm pressed gently against your chest, right over your heart, and the steady rapid beating beneath his fingertips sent a shockwave through him.
You were flustered.
Because of him.
Your heart was racing.
For him.
And you, Y/n L/n were shy.
Because you liked him so much it made you mean?
The irony hit like lightning.
All this time he thought you hated him because he wasn’t cool enough, because he wore glasses and studied too hard or because of some personal vendetta you might have had.
But no. You weren't cruel on purpose.
You were just… overwhelmed by feelings for the guy who never even looked at you twice in fear you'd destroy him if given half a chance.
And you were still rambling on and on about how you got defensive around him, and things kept clicking into place in his mind.
Everything was clear, but you wouldn’t stop talking. Not that he minded but he’d like to get a word in.
His throat tightened.
Because he wanted to kiss you.
That was the problem.
Every logical part of him was screaming that this was a terrible idea. You were drunk, overwhelmed, and possibly wouldn’t even remember half the things you’d confessed tonight. He knew that. He understood that.
But then you looked at him like that.
Like he was someone worth wanting.
And Ohyul had spent so long convincing himself that Y/n L/n would never see him that way that hearing it from your lips felt almost impossible.
He leaned closer, but stopped before your lips touched.
Just for a second.
Giving you the chance to move away.
“Y/n,” he whispered, voice lower than before, “you’re really sure?”
Your eyes fluttered open slightly, still hazy but focused enough to understand what he was asking.
And for once, you didn’t hide.
You just leaned forward, closing the distance yourself.
And that was all the answer he needed.
Your eyes closed shut as you kissed him, a quiet sigh of relief leaving you at the way he held you.
The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, like Ohyul wasn’t sure if this was real. His lips were warm and slightly dry from lack of drinking all night, but they moved with quiet precision, like everything else he did.
But the second you kissed him back? That sigh you let out?
That broke whatever restraint he had left.
His arms tightened around you instantly, not pulling away or stopping, but deepening it gently. One hand slid into your hair, while the other stayed low on your back, pressing you closer.
It wasn't a passionate make-out session or some dramatic scene from a movie.
But that’s what it would become if he didn’t get his damn lips off you.
You whined softly as he pressed you closer, you needed more contact. Your hands slowly moved up to tangle in his hair.
Ohyul let out a string of curses in his mind.
The soft whine you made, so small and needy, sent a jolt straight through his spine. And then your fingers? Tangling in his hair, pulling just slightly like you were afraid he’d vanish if you didn’t hold on?
He kissed you harder.
His breath hitched between kisses as he tilted his head to deepen them further, lips parting slightly against yours..
And then the universe decided this was the best moment to remind them to breathe.
The kiss broke, with a lot of reluctance from both sides, as both of you gasped for air.
His forehead naturally rested against yours, his breathing uneven behind those foggy glasses. His cheeks were flushed pink, a rare sight on someone usually so composed.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just breathing each other in, his warm exhales mingling with your soft ones, and the world outside this room completely forgotten.
The music downstairs? The laughter? The party?
Gone.
It was just this: two people who’d spent months avoiding each other’s eyes… now pressed together like they’d always been meant to be.
His thumb brushed lightly over your cheekbone without him even realizing he was doing it.
You were the first to speak, burying your face against his neck. “I can’t believe you just did that…” you mumbled, heart racing out of your chest
Ohyul felt your face press into the crook of his neck and it made something in his chest swell so big he thought he might burst.
His lips curled into a small, dazed smile, wrapping both arms around you and pulled you even closer, resting his chin on top of your head.
"I can't believe I just did that either," he admitted quietly.
You scoffed, hitting his arm. Was it playful? Yes, but was it also because you had no other outlet for the overwhelming feelings you were having? Also yes.
The playful hit to his arm made Ohyul chuckle.
It wasn’t a mean punch. It was more like a flustered slap. The kind someone gives when they’re too overwhelmed with feelings to scream or cry or say anything intelligent.
And honestly? He got it.
This whole thing, kissing you, holding you, liking this moment, was overwhelming for him too. His brain had short-circuited the second your lips met his.
So instead of analyzing everything the way he usually did, he just pulled you in closer.
"You can hit me again if it helps," he teased gently, "but I’m not sorry."
A pause.
"...I really liked kissing you."
“Don’t say things like thattttt” you grumbled, very embarrassed. “You’re such a loser,” the words held no real malice, they never had, the only difference was that now he could tell.
Ohyul didn’t flinch at the word "loser."
Not because he was used to it, he hated that label. He’d spent years hearing it whispered in hallways, written on bathroom stalls, laughed about by guys on Ryul’s team.
But coming from you? Right now? While your arms were still wrapped around him and your face was buried in his neck?
It sounded… weirdly affectionate.
Like an inside joke only the two of you understood. A dumb little nickname with zero bite behind it, just how drunk-y/n showed you cared without actually saying "I adore you."
You weren’t talking anymore. You weren’t making jokes or putting up walls.
You were just… there. Curled against his chest like it was your favorite place in the world, it lowkey was.
And Ohyul didn’t move a muscle unless necessary, not wanting to disturb this perfect little bubble of closeness that had formed between you.
One arm stayed securely around your shoulders while the other idly traced slow circles on your back with his fingertips—the most gentle touch anyone who knew him would’ve been shocked to see.
“This is nice’, he thought.
“If we stay here too long I might fall asleep…” In case you haven’t realized, y/n didn’t not have much control over what came out of their mouth when intoxicated.
Ohyul paused, glancing down at your half-lidded eyes and the way you were already melting deeper into him, like his chest was a pillow designed specifically for you to sleep on.
Ah. Right.
You were sleepy.
And it made sense.
I mean think about it.
You’d been drinking all night, dancing, talking to people, then kissing him… No wonder your body was tapping out.
"Okay," he said softly, carefully carrying you over to his bed and adjusting you so you could lie down properly.
You got comfortable quickly, burying yourself under the blankets that drowned you in his scent.
“Goodnight”
He hesitated before lying down beside you, but the way you immediately curled closer made the decision for him.
Suddenly got incredibly productive with my writing (this probably means my period is incoming but we're not gonna focus on that...)
ANYWAYS
The new fics that are suddenly out on my page are :
Under the willow tree [cortis x reader] (very much an impulse post)
My Guardian Angel [juhoon x reader] (we kinda knew that was coming lol)
Then the fics i still have to finish are :
Bitter Coffee [ryul x reader]
Dispatch was right [ohyul x reader]
No-Clipped [lngshot backrooms au]
I think my plan for upcoming posts, since i just posted under the willow randomly is to work on a chapter of dispatch was right, then under the willow tree, then bitter coffee, then my guardian angel, then no-clipped.
BECAUSE
I need people to be invested ;P This is for series only lol. I'll still drop random posts.
InisFreeGreenTea's Cortis Masterlist!
( 📱- SMAU || 🖋️ - WRITTEN || 📖 - SERIES )
Zhao Yufan | James (aka 'spiderman in hiding')
Out On Patrol 📱
James is convinced he's Batman. NotBatman!James x Reader. NotBatman!Ryul x Reader. (There are TWO diff y/n's in this guys...). Silly behaviour. My attempt at being funny <3.
Kim Juhoon (aka 'the absolute love of my life and reason i started this blog in the first place')
My Opp Has Romantic Feelings For Me? 🖋️
Juhoon technically asked y/n out. I think?
My Guardian Angel 🖋️📖
After six months of making excuses for a boyfriend who can't be bothered to remember you exist, you get a guardian angel instead. one who isn't planning on being quiet about any mistreatment towards you. funny, unbothered, and a little too pretty for someone who technically isn't allowed to be seen.
Martin Jonathan Edwards (aka 'the blonde genius')
In Uniform 🖋️
Martin & Y/n highkey have beef and make it everyone’s problem.
You And Mii 📱
Silly Texts and Posts between Martin and his girlfriend
Eom Seonghyeon (aka 'that one acai addict')
The Girls Are Fighting 📱🖋️📖
Seonghyeon goes for an Acai run, spills his drink and makes an enemy. But why are his fans lowkey shipping him and his now sworn enemy??? Like she isn't even that nice. She spilt his drink???? Sure she's kinda cute but- uh-oh. He thinks she's cute....
Pt 2 | Pt 3
Bromance without the B 📱
Your childhood bestfriend doesn't want you over at his house (cause he has friends over and your downbad asf for one of them...). You don't listen :D Seonghyeon x Reader. Plationic!Louis x Reader
Ahn Keonho (aka 'my 7 year old son who thinks life is sunshine and rainbows')
To Be Written For.....
Little do they know i'm alr working on something
YoungCreatorCrew ('5 boys with very similar looking anime counterparts')
Who We Are 🖋️
Everyone blows up. Like TNT.
Under The Willow Tree 🖋️
Magic Au! Y/N had wanted for nothing more than an ordinary afternoon in her garden, book in hand, sun on her face. She had not asked for a willow tree that did not belong there, nor the kingdom of magicians it delivered her into, nor the four boys who took her in without knowing what to make of her.
Another missed date and another excuse. It's not the first time he's forgotten she exists, and deep down she already knows it won't be the last. Six months of giving him the benefit of the doubt finally starts to crack after one Instagram story says more than he ever bothered to. Her friends have been waiting for this moment for a while now, and so, apparently, has someone else.
He was late again.
You check your phone for the fourth time in ten minutes. No new messages. The last one from two hours ago just said ‘omw’, and the little delivered stamp underneath hadn’t changed to read.
The café was starting to feel less like a place you were waiting in and more like a place you lived in now. You'd refilled your water twice, the waitress had stopped asking if you needed anything else, just gave you a small sympathetic look every time she passed.
You open your messages again.
Type something.
Delete it.
Type it again.
Eventually, you came up with something. ‘it's okay, take your time’. You didn’t mean it but you sent it anyway.
The bell over the door rang and your head snapped up so fast you felt a little dizzy. It wasn’t him. Just some guy in a hoodie picking up a takeout order. You looked back down at your phone like it would give you an apology in the last four seconds.
It hadn’t.
With a sigh, you politely waved the waitress over.
“Anything else I can get you?” She asked, you hated how quickly you were able to hear the pity in her voice.
Shaking your head, you responded, “Just the check please.”
Within minutes, you were out of the cafe and walking home.
It was raining, not too hard yet, the weather matching your mood and current outlook on life.
You weren’t exactly mad or sad, more so disappointed.
In yourself.
This wasn’t the first time your boyfriend had ghosted you or forgotten a date. Everytime it happened you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, and you unconsciously found yourself doing it again.
‘Maybe he was with his parents, or maybe he had an assignment to complete, maybe while playing soccer he got an injury and was in the hospital or something–’
The mountain of excuses you’d been forming in your head paused when you felt your phone ping. Taking shelter under the overhang of a convenience store as the rain began pouring, you pulled your phone out of your small purse.
An instagram story notification.
You almost thought that your boyfriend finally got back to–
Your boyfriend had posted a story.
You speedily clicked on it only for your heart to skip a beat.
It was obviously recent, you could tell because it had been raining in his photo as well. You recognized the place, a small beach half an hour away from your house, and the people.
His friends.
They were all smiling and obviously having a good time despite the gloomy weather.
What really stung was the caption.
‘Out with the best of the best.’
You gasped seeing a rain drop suddenly fall onto your phone, looking up you realized it couldn’t have been rain as you were under protection.
You were crying.
By the time you got home, you were soaked through anyway. The umbrella you'd bought at the start of the season sat forgotten in your closet, exactly where it had been for the last three days.
You dropped your bag by the door. Didn't bother turning on the lights, just let the dark sit around you the way it had been sitting in your chest since the story loaded on your screen.
Your phone was still in your hand. You looked at it again, the story now gone, replaced by nothing, because of course it was, because he never let anything sit long enough for you to really look at it.
You sank onto the kitchen floor. Not the couch, not your bed, just the floor, back against the cabinets, knees pulled up to your chest like you were trying to take up less space in your own apartment.
"Best of the best," you said out loud, quiet, mostly to yourself. "Right."
You thought about calling your friends but hesitated.
They’d never been shy when it came to making their dislike, borderline hatred, for your boyfriend obvious.
They’d constantly tried to persuade you into seeing through his act and to stop coming up with so many excuses for his behaviour but you never listened.
And yet, knowing what they were going to say, you called them anyway.
The first to pick up had been Wonhee, but you could tell from the shrieks in the background that Martin and Yoonchae had been with her.
“Y/n! How was your date?!” You smiled at her voice, the other two yelling your name in the background.
While you tried to come up with a response that didn’t make the situation seem worse than it was, Wonhee immediately registered what must have happened. “He didn’t come, did he?”
Both lines were filled with silence, but the short breath you let out told her everything.
Immediately, you could hear complaints and groans of annoyance come through the phone. After an annoyed yell, you were speaking to someone else.
“Y/n when will you get yourself together and dump that man?”
“You mean boy,” Wonhee and Yoonchae chorused somewhere in the back.
“Dump that boy,” the blonde immediately corrected.
“Soon…”
“And don’t try to argue that– Wait, soon?”
You heard what sounded like the phone dropping on their end and soon enough, you got a notification for a face time call.
You smiled at their antics, calmly picking up, Martin's shocked expression was the first thing you saw. “You’re not gonna defend the guy??!”
He was very confused, and at his words, Wonhee and Yoonchae drew closer to the screen. Yoonchae’s eyes furrowed as she took you in.
Slightly red eyes, smudged makeup, wet hair... “Aw babe…” she cooed sadly as Martin and Wonhee ranted.
You cleared your throat, getting their attention once more. “I’m gonna break up with him soon. I promise. But today I just wanna forget about all of this…” you explained, voice trailing off.
“I’ll call James,” Martin nodded, slipping out of frame to call his older friend.
Wonhee murmured something about finding car keys, leaving you on the phone with Yoonchae.
“You sure you wanna go out today y/n?” she asked gently, trying to make sure you weren’t making this decision on a whim.
“I’m just so tired of him,” you sniffled, feeling the tears build up in the back of your eyes. “For one day, I wanna do something other than think of his stupid face.”
She chuckled at your response but nodded. “We’ll be over there soon, pretty sure James or Ryul might be doing something later tonight.”
By tonight, she meant 2am in the morning.
“Don’t worry about clothes, Wonhee and I will pick out something for you. Just take a shower, drink some water and eat something okay?”
You nodded through the camera lens, the light from your phone being the only source of brightness in your dim kitchen.
After you exchanged a few more words, the call ended and you let your phone drop to the floor.
You realized, somewhere in the quiet after, that you'd been holding your breath. Not literally, but something in your chest had been pulled tight since you’d left the cafe and it hadn't let go once.
But it was letting go now.
Your shoulders dropped. The air left you slow, shaky at first, then steadier. You sat there in the dark kitchen and just breathed.
Somewhere down the street a car door slammed shut. Faint, still a ways off, but you knew that sound. Martin never could park quietly.
You pushed yourself up off the floor.
"Okay," you murmured, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "Let's go."
—
James' parties were always lit, and even though this was technically more of a group hangout than a party, it still felt like one.
His house was stuffed with food and drinks and loud music that would've surely made your ears bleed if you weren't under the heavy influence of a drink.
You'd already downed a whole cup of straight vodka, trying hard not to throw it all back up, and had been put on a strict "no drink" policy for the next hour by Yoonchae.
You were grateful for your friends. Yoonchae, who always made sure you never got too deep in your feelings. Wonhee, who tried to get you deep into your feelings. Martin, who always told you to let your feelings out. Even James, who'd thrown this whole hangout together at the very last minute the second he found out what your douchebag of a boyfriend had done to you, treated you like you meant something.
It was well into the morning, maybe 4 or 5am, but you could barely tell, the sky still pitch black.
Oh yeah. You were outside.
Wonhee was on one side of you, Keonho on the other. They'd insisted you come out for some air, let the drinks wear off a little, but now they were just bickering about whether Marinette Dupain-Cheng would've made a better Chat Noir than Adrien Agreste.
"Honestly, I don't know why we aren't considering Felix as an option," you slurred, leaning onto Wonhee for support.
Wonhee immediately nodded in agreement, also a bit out of it, but Keonho shook his head in disgust. "Fuck no!"
You all laughed. But as you did, you felt your stomach lurch. Wonhee gasped, worried, already moving you toward the side of the house, and you couldn't tell why until you did.
"Oh," Keonho mumbled.
All the alcohol was coming back up.
He had to look away quickly before he did the same.
Wonhee rubbed your back gently, holding your braids up as you tried to calm down.
"Fuck bro," you panted heavily.
This was your sign to go home.
—
You got home a little after 5:30, courtesy of Martin. A little tipsy, a lot tired and very much sick. You kicked your shoes off by the door, dropped your bag on the counter, and stood in your kitchen for a second just breathing.
Your phone buzzed. A text from him. "Hey, sorry I missed our date, long day, talk tmrw?’
You scoffed, set the phone down and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and thought, honestly, genuinely thought, about every excuse you've made for this man in the last six months.
‘Work was busy. He's just not a big texter. He shows love differently. He's just tired. He didn't mean it like that.’
"Man," you say out loud, to nobody, to the empty kitchen. "This sucks."
"Yeah," said a voice from the kitchen. "I wonder why."
You froze.
You didn’t scream, which you’d later consider a personal achievement, but you grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be a wooden spoon, and whipped around holding it like it was going to do anything at all against whatever was standing in your kitchen.
There was a man leaning against your counter. His arms crossed, looking extremely pretty in a way that felt very wrong to notice given the circumstances, sharp jaw, soft eyes, a very unbothered expression which disturbed you seeing as he had somehow gotten into your house.
"What," you spoke, voice cracking slightly, "are you doing in my house."
"Eating your chips, actually." He held a bag that you had hidden deeeeep in your kitchen, you’d been saving them for a good opportunity and now they were gone. "These are stale, by the way. You should throw them out."
"Get out of my house."
"Can't. I live here now, technically. Well..." He tilts his head, as though he was thinking about his existence for the first time. "Not live. I don't eat or sleep. I just kind of exist?"
"I'm calling the police."
"For what, trespassing? I didn't use the door." He said, waving his hand in its general direction like it was a completely normal thing to say. He set the chip bag down and finally looked at you properly, and something in his expression softened, barely. His face going from unbothered to something closer to tired on your behalf. "Look. Put the spoon down. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm your guardian angel."
Your eyes squinted at him in disbelief at what he was saying but also amazed that he believed it. A handsome crackhead must have gotten into your house and was having a hallucination from all the drugs in his system or something. "My what?"
"Guardian angel." He repeated slowly, like you didn’t speak the same language as him or something. "I've been assigned to you, like watching over you and everything."
"Angels don't look like that." You refuted.
"Like what?"
"Like—" You gestured at him with the spoon, he seemed a bit offended. "That."
"I can do wings if it'll make you feel better, but it's a whole thing and honestly it's not that deep." He shrugged. "We’ve found that his form is easier for you humans to comprehend."
You sat down on your couch. Not because you believe him, necessarily, but because you were exhausted from all of the events of the day and no longer felt like speaking to him while standing.
"Okay," you say. "Say I believe you. Why are you here?"
He's quiet for a second. Something shifts behind his eyes, a little more serious than the sassy energy from thirty seconds ago.
"My Boss saw how much your life's been sucking lately," he said. "And I don't wanna use His name in vain so I'll leave it at that. But He sent me down here. To help."
"Help with what."
"With this." He gestures vaguely, at you, at your phone still lit up on the counter with the unanswered text glowing on the screen, at the whole tired shape of your night. "With you barely sober at 6am while making excuses for a man who can't be bothered to remember he's got a girlfriend most days."
You felt your face get hot. "You don't know anything about that."
"Girl," He deadpanned, flat and unimpressed, "I've been watching you for months. I know everything about that."
An ordinary afternoon in the garden turns into anything but, when Y/N follows a curious detour to a willow tree that, to her knowledge, didn't exist. What waits for her on the other side of a nap she never meant to take is no longer home.
The book was about mythical creatures.
Y/N had found it in a box at an estate sale, the leather cover gone soft at the corners, and she'd been meaning to read it for a month before she finally spread her blanket out on the lawn and cracked it open.
The sun beat down on her face as she laid on her back, holding the book outstretched to the sky as her eyes scanned over each page, taking in the intricate drawings of each creature and their descriptions.
She got four pages in before the ducks distracted her.
There were three of them, paddling in slow circles on the pond at the far end of the garden, and something about their innocent behaviour pulled her attention clean off the page. She marked her place with a ribbon and stood, brushing grass off her skirts.
The walk across took longer than it should have.
It always did, in this garden.
Her father had let the landscaping run wild years ago, hedges grown thick and paths curving in ways that doubled back on themselves, and she'd stopped minding it. Getting lost in her own garden felt like a small, safe kind of adventure.
She was most of the way to the pond when she saw the willow.
It stood off to the left of the path, branches trailing into the grass, and she paused in her steps. She knew this garden. She'd grown up in it and spent most of her days in it.
There was no willow.
She looked at it a while longer, decided she must have simply never noticed it before, a very dismissive thought, and went and sat beneath it instead of at the pond. The ducks would still be there when she got up.
Hopefully.
The shade was cool and the grass underneath was soft, and Y/N told herself she'd rest her eyes only a moment.
When she opened them again, the light had changed. It was almost dusk and she swore she could hear the worried calls of her handmaiden.
She sat up too fast, head swimming, and looked around for the willow. Gone. The path was gone too, replaced by something narrower and cobbled, and the air smelled different, colder, like stone that had never seen sun.
She got to her feet and walked the way she thought was home.
What stood there instead was a castle.
—
The wards caught her mid-step.
She could feel them, a pull at her ankles like an invisible thread drawing taut, freezing her in her steps, keeping her unable to move, and then a sound rang out across the courtyard, high and clear, not quite a bell and not quite a voice.
Y/N froze.
She had been turning to leave, some instinct in her screaming that this was not her home, none of it was, not the stone beneath her flats nor the strange sharp cold in the air. Then the moment the sound rang out, doors she hadn't noticed banged open along the courtyard wall, and footsteps came from every direction at once, boots on stone, fast and many.
She was surrounded within seconds.
Hands came at her from all sides, plain rough hands, cold from the outdoor air, tugging at her sleeves and the hem of her skirt, fingers catching in her hair to pull a lock forward and examine it like it was made of something rare. Someone said a word in a language she didn't recognize. Someone else laughed, short and startled. She stumbled when the crowd pressed in tighter, caught herself against a stranger's shoulder, was shoved forward again by the press of bodies, and her heart was going so hard she could feel it in her throat, in her ears, drowning out most of what was being said around her.
"Enough."
The voice cut through air, no shouting required, and the crowd parted like it had been trained to. A woman stepped through the gap, older, sharp-eyed, dressed the same plainly as the rest but carrying herself like she wasn't. She looked Y/N over once, head to foot, and whatever she saw made her expression settle into something unreadable.
“This way,” she commanded, turning without waiting to see if Y/N would follow.
Y/N followed, because the alternative was standing alone in a courtyard full of strangers who had a keen interest in her, and because some part of her, the same part that had told her to run a minute ago, was telling her now that this woman, at least, was not a threat.
The inside of the castle was colder than the courtyard.
Torches burned low along stone corridors, throwing long shadows that moved before Y/N's eyes could catch up to them, and every hallway smelled faintly of woodsmoke and something herbal underneath it, rosemary maybe, or sage.
The ceilings dropped lower the deeper they went. Servants pressed themselves to the walls to let the pair pass, and not one of them looked away, dishrags and buckets and armfuls of linen forgotten in their hands as they stared.
Y/N kept her chin up and her eyes forward and her arms wrapped tight around herself, and tried very hard not to think about ovens, about the fact that fairy stories always seemed to start exactly like this, lost girl, strange house, kind old woman leading her further inside.
The doors at the end of the corridor were tall, dark wood banded with iron, and the woman pushed them open without knocking.
Heat rolled out first, a fire built high in a hearth at the far wall, and then noise, easy overlapping conversation and the clink of cutlery against plate.
It was a dining room, long table down the center of it, laden with food Y/N didn't recognize and food she did, and around it sat four boys who had clearly stopped paying attention to anything but each other and their dinner.
Their cloaks, unusual things, layered and asymmetric, dyed in deep colors that didn't quite match any court fashion Y/N knew, hung loose off the backs of their chairs. One of them had his boots up on the seat beside him. Another was gesturing with his fork mid-sentence, sauce dripping unnoticed onto the table. A goblet sat balanced at the very edge of the wood, one shift away from falling, and nobody at that table seemed to register it as a problem.
However, the most prominent sound in the room was the music that seemed to fill every corner of the room without a proper source.
The headwoman cleared her throat.
Nothing happened the first time. She did it again, sharper, and this time four heads turned in near unison, conversation and song dying mid word.
Y/N felt every one of those four sets of eyes land on her at once, and she had never in her life been more aware of the state of her, braids coming loose from its ends, dress fine and clearly foreign and grass stained at the hem, hands twisted so tight that they had gone stiff. Nobody said anything. The fire popped in the silence. Somewhere behind her, one of the servants who'd followed them shifted their weight, and the sound of it seemed enormous.
"Found her wandering the east grounds," the headwoman said, into the silence that had been left behind. "Just past the stone wall. Didn't so much as look at the wards until she tried to leave again, and that's when they finally caught her."
That got a reaction. One of the boys, the one with his boots still up on the empty chair, sat forward enough to plant them properly on the floor.
"Didn't alert till she tried to leave?" he said. "That's not how they work. They're supposed to catch anything the second it crosses the boundary."
"I'm aware of how the wards work, thank you Lord Edward." The headwoman didn't so much as glance at him. "Which is why I brought her straight here instead of to the kitchens."
That seemed to mean something to the two closest to her, because their easy, sprawling posture around the table sharpened all at once. Forks were set down. The one who'd been gesturing mid-sentence finally seemed to notice the sauce dripping off the end of his utensil onto the table and didn't move to wipe it up, too busy looking at Y/N instead.
She did not enjoy being looked at like that. Like a puzzle someone had found in the wrong drawer.
"She hasn't said anything," the headwoman went on, when nobody else filled the silence. "Not since I found her. Not a word, the whole walk in." A pause, considering. "I did wonder, at first, if she couldn't."
"Couldn't what," said the boy nearest the fire, not looking up from where he was still cutting into something on his plate.
"Speak."
That got him to look up. And she quickly realized that all the attention in the room was on her.
Y/N felt the word land in her chest before she could stop it, felt her mouth open on instinct to say I'm not mute, I can hear you, I understand every single thing you're saying, I just don't know if I'm allowed to speak or if speaking will get me thrown in a dungeon or worse, and what came out instead was nothing. Her throat had closed up somewhere between the courtyard and this room and refused, absolutely refused, to cooperate now that it mattered.
Which, in hindsight, did not help her case.
"Huh," said the one by the fire, and went back to his food like the matter was settled.
"She's not deaf," the headwoman said, a little defensively, like she'd caught herself in an accusation she hadn't meant to make. "She flinched at the horn same as anyone would've. Just seems she's decided not to talk."
The four sets of eyes turned back to Y/N, considering this new information with the same mild curiosity someone might give a cat that refused to come when called.
Y/N opened her mouth again. Closed it again. If she started explaining now, first word out being ‘I'm not from here, I don't know where here even is, and also where exactly am I’, she had a feeling that was going to go over even worse than silence.
So she stayed quiet, and let them think what they wanted.
Y/N had wanted for nothing more than an ordinary afternoon in her garden, book in hand, sun on her face. She had not asked for a willow tree that did not belong there, nor the kingdom of magicians it delivered her into, nor the four boys who took her in without knowing what to make of her.
She meant only to find her way home.
But the longer she stayed, learning the shape of a world built on magic she didn't understand, and the people in it who slowly stopped feeling like strangers, the less certain she became that home was still the place she wanted to return to.
Can't decide whether I want it to be angsty w some mythicalness (more than js the angelic sense) there's a plot in my mind and i wanna complete 3/4 of the story before posting it lol. I DUNNOOOO
