pairing: bodyguard!jay x rich ceo's daughter!reader
genre: enemies to lovers, tension
synopsis: after a kidnapping attempt, your father hires jay, a cold and infuriating bodyguard you canāt seem to get rid of. you push his buttons at every turn, but as danger closes in, the tension between you turns into something far more dangerousāan undeniable connection neither of you can ignore.
warnings: mentions of blood, a bit of fighting, kissing
note: i'm dropping smth two months later finallyy(i'm still in the middle of exams AGAIN). i feel like this is not my best work, i had a major writer's block with it and ended up making it basic? idk i haven't been feeling well recently with the insane amount of workload i have since the start of this year and the burn out shows in this ughh. i hope the fic isn't too bad TT enjoy!
word count 5.8k
If you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3 | taglist
the heavy oak doors of your fatherās office loomed before you, their polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the hallway chandelier. you paused, your fingers hovering over your phone screen, scrolling through a feed of designer handbags you didnāt need but absolutely wanted.Ā
the text from your father had been curt, almost ominous: āmy office. now.āĀ
you rolled your eyes. it was probably about the credit card statement again. you had a perfectly good excuse readyācharity auction, obviously. heād buy it. he always did.
with a sigh, you pushed the doors open, not bothering to knock. āyou rang?ā you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you leaned against the doorframe, still engrossed in your phone.
your father didnāt look up from his desk. āsit,ā he commanded, his voice sharp enough to make you glance up.
you blinked. okay. not a good sign.
it was then that you noticed him. the man standing beside your father, a silent shadow in the room. he was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed entirely in blackāblack tactical pants, black fitted shirt, black boots that looked like they could crush a skull without breaking a sweat. his arms were crossed over his chest, his posture relaxed but somehow radiating intensity. his face was all sharp angles and hard lines, his jaw clenched, his eyes scanning the room with a precision that made you feel like heād already dissected every inch of itāand you along with it.
you straightened, your phone slipping into your pocket as you took a step forward. āwhoās this?ā you asked, your tone light but laced with suspicion.
your father gestured toward the man, his expression unyielding. āthis is jay. your new bodyguard.ā
the words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and absurd. then you laughedāa sharp, incredulous sound that echoed off the mahogany walls. āyouāre joking.ā
your father didnāt laugh. neither did jay. in fact, jay didnāt so much as twitch. his expression remained impassive, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.
you turned back to your father, your laughter fading into a scoff. āthis isnāt necessary. iām not in danger. that whole kidnapping thing? a fluke. itās been weeks and nothingās happened.ā
your fatherās jaw tightened. āwhich is exactly why you need protection. weāre not taking any chances.ā
you opened your mouth to argue, but jay beat you to it. his voice was low, calm, and infuriatingly even. āiām not here to be liked, just to do my job.ā
your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. excuse me?
he met your glare without flinching, his expression as unreadable as a stone wall. he didnāt care. not about your annoyance, not about your defiance, not about you. the realisation made your blood boil.
ācongratulations on the worst job in existence,ā you said coolly, tilting your head as you studied him. ābecause iām not some damsel in distress.ā
jay didnāt blink. āright. you handled the last situation so well.ā
your jaw dropped. the audacity. āexcuse youāā
āenough,ā your father interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting this entire conversation. ājay will be with you at all times. this isnāt up for discussion.ā
you stared at him, then at jay, who was still standing there like some brooding statue, completely unfazed. your mind raced, already plotting ways to make his life a living hell. fine. if this was happening, you wouldnāt make it easy for him.
you flashed jay a sweet, taunting smile, the kind that usually made people nervous. ātry and keep up.ā
his lips twitchedājust barelyābut it wasnāt a smile. more like a challenge accepted. āi donāt plan on falling behind.ā
oh, you already hated him. hated the way he looked at you like you were a problem to be solved, hated the way he stood there like he owned the room, hated the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. but most of all, you hated that he didnāt seem the least bit intimidated by you.
your father exhaled, clearly done with the conversation. ājay will start immediately. i expect you to cooperate.ā
you didnāt respond. instead, you turned on your heel and strode toward the door, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. you could feel jayās eyes on your back, tracking your every move, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder. let him try to keep up. you were already planning your first escape.
as the doors swung shut behind you, you couldnāt help but smirk. this was going to be fun.
the first twenty-four hours with jay as your shadow were unbearable. it wasnāt just his constant presenceāitās the way he moves like he knows what youāre about to do before you do it, like some kind of infuriating psychic in tactical gear.
you woke up to find him standing right outside your bedroom door. arms crossed, eyes alert, posture straight. like a soldier. like a statue. like someone who had absolutely no life outside of making yours miserable.
you glare at him, silk robe slipping off your shoulder, hair a mess. ādo you ever sleep? or do you just stand there like a creep all night?ā
jay doesnāt react. not even a twitch. his gaze flicks over you, assessing, before looking away.
he didnāt react. not even a twitch. his dark eyes flicked over you briefly, assessing, before he looked away, his expression as blank as ever.
āgood morning,ā he said, his tone flat.
you rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face.
when you went to get coffee, he was already there, waiting. the barista gave him a once-over, their eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and the faint scar that ran along his jawline. then they glanced at you, their eyebrows raised in a silent question: are you okay? do you need help?
you forced a smile. āheās harmless,ā you said, though the words tasted like a lie. jay didnāt so much as blink.
you grabbed your latte and stormed out, jay falling into step behind you like some kind of silent, brooding ghost. you could feel his eyes on your back, watching, always watching. it was suffocating.
in meetings, it was worse. you sat at the head of the conference table, your laptop open, your team discussing quarterly projections, and there he wasāstanding against the far wall, arms still crossed, his gaze sweeping the room like he was expecting an ambush at any moment. every time you glanced his way, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable.
you tried to ignore him. you really did. but his presence was like a thundercloud hovering over the room, dark and oppressive. by the time the meeting ended, you were ready to scream.
you had to get rid of him immediately.
attempt #1: the emergency exitĀ
it was simple, really. you waited until you were in the middle of a crowded lobby with jay, your phone pressed to your ear, your face the picture of distress. ānoāno, stay right there, iāll be there in five minutes,ā you said, your voice trembling just enough to sound convincing. then you slipped out the back door, quick, smooth, victorious.
you couldnāt help but grin as you rounded the corner, your heart racing with the thrill of escape. finally, some freedom. finally, someā
jay was already there.
leaning against your car, arms still crossed, not even looking at you. like heād been waiting for hours. like heād known exactly where youād go.
you froze, your smile slipping. āhow the hellāā
he finally acknowledged you, tilting his head just slightly. his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk. āyouāre going to have to try harder than that.ā
your fingers clenched into fists. oh. it was war.
attempt #2: the disappearing act
you waited until you were at a charity gala, the kind of event where everyone was too busy sipping champagne and gossipping to notice anything amiss. you slipped into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, your movements quick and deliberate. you ducked behind a potted plant, then made your way to the service entrance, your heart pounding with excitement.
you were almost there. almost free. and thenā
āleaving so soon?ā
you whirled around, your breath catching in your throat. jay stood in the doorway, his arms still crossed, his expression as calm as ever. he didnāt even look winded.
āhow do you keep doing that?ā you demanded, your voice rising.
he shrugged, the motion infuriatingly casual. āitās my job.ā
āyour job is to annoy me to death?ā
āif thatās what it takes to keep you alive, then yes.ā
you glared at him, your chest heaving with frustration. he stared back, unflinching, his dark eyes boring into yours. for a moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, and you wanted to so badly give into it and just cause a tantrum. instead, you turned on your heel and stormed back into the gala, jay following close behind.
attempt #3: sensory overload
the mall was a chaotic symphony of chatter, clattering shopping bags, and the faint hum of pop music playing over the speakers. you strode through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, your eyes darting toward the exit signs. jay was a step behind you, his presence as unshakable as ever. his dark eyes scanned the crowd, his posture tense, like he was expecting a sniper to take a shot at any moment.
you rolled your eyes. ārelax, rambo. itās a mall, not a war zone.ā
he didnāt respond. of course he didnāt. he just kept walking, his gaze flicking toward you every few seconds, like he was making sure you hadnāt somehow vanished into thin air.
you gritted your teeth. this was supposed to be your day. you had a date with someone your mutual friend had set you up with. your father had forbidden you from going, but since when had you ever listened to him? and yet, here was jay, ruining everything like some overgrown shadow you couldnāt shake.
you bit back a sigh. if you wanted to shake him, youād have to get creative.
spotting a perfume shop up ahead, you darted inside, the overwhelming scent of floral and citrus hitting you instantly. jay followed without hesitation, his towering frame making the narrow aisles feel even smaller.
āwhy are we here?ā he asked, his voice low and gruff.
āto test some new scents,ā you replied innocently, grabbing a random bottle and spraying it on your wrist. āyou wouldnāt understand.ā
jay raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
you tried a few more perfumes, using up the space on your wrists and arms. finally, you turned to him, holding up a bottle.
āhold out your arm.ā
jay blinked. āwhat?ā
āyouāre supposed to test it on skin,ā you said, your tone overly patient. āand iām out of space. come on.ā
reluctantly, he extended his arm. you sprayed the perfume lightly on his wrist and leaned in, inhaling deeply.
jay tensed under your touch, his muscles stiffening as your fingers brushed his skin. you glanced up, noticing the tightness in his jaw, but you didnāt comment.
āitās not bad,ā you said, tilting your head. ābut maybe something lighter.ā
you reached for another bottle, quickly spraying it on his other wrist. this time, you didnāt stop at one spray. you pressed the nozzle again and again, filling the air with an overpowering mix of scents.
jay sneezed once, then twice, stumbling back a step as he tried to clear his nose.
āwhat the hell are you doing?ā he asked, his voice muffled between sneezes.
ājust testing!ā you said, holding up your hands in mock innocence. āyouāre being dramatic.ā
jay glared at you, but before he could recover, you dropped the perfume bottle and bolted, weaving through the crowded store and out into the mall. you didnāt look back. you didnāt need to. you could hear his footsteps behind you, heavy and determined.
your heart raced as you sprinted through the mall, dodging shoppers and strollers. you spotted a clothing store up ahead, its entrance tucked away in a quieter corner. perfect. you ducked inside, your breath coming in short gasps as you scanned the store. the dressing rooms. that was your best bet.
you darted toward them, slipping into the first stall you saw. you yanked the curtain closed, your chest heaving as you pressed your back against the wall. for a moment, there was silence. then you heard itāthe sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching the stall.
the curtain flew open, and there he was. jay. his chest was rising and falling slightly, his dark eyes blazing with something you couldnāt quite place. he stepped into the stall, his body crowding yours as he pinned you against the wall. the curtain fell shut behind him, enclosing you in the small, dimly lit space.
you stared up at him, your breath catching in your throat. he was so close you could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the way his pulse jumped in his neck. his hands were braced on either side of your head, his body caging you in. the air between you was thick with tension, the kind that made your stomach twist and your heart race for reasons that had nothing to do with running.
āyouāre not as clever as you think you are,ā he said, his voice low and rough.
you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. āand youāre not as scary as you think you are.ā
his lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk. ātry me.ā
you opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue. his eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, and something shifted between you. the air crackled with electricity, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath hitch. you could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body seemed to press closer without actually moving.
for a moment, neither of you moved. then jay stepped back, his expression shuttering as he regained control. āletās go,ā he said, his tone clipped.
you didnāt argue. for once, you didnāt have the words.
the party was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume, champagne, and the faint hum of a live jazz band. you stood near the centre of the room, dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged your figure perfectly, a glass of champagne in hand. you laughed at something your friend said, the sound light and carefree, but your attention was elsewhere.
jay.
he was standing across the room, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you. he wasnāt even trying to hide it. he was watching you like a hawk, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense enough to make your skin prickle.
your friend leaned in, her voice low and teasing. āheās been looking at you all night.ā
you shrugged, pretending not to care. āwho? jay? heās just doing his job.ā
but the truth was, you did care. you were hyper-aware of him now, his presence like a shadow you couldnāt shake. and it annoyed you. it annoyed you that he could stand there, so calm and collected, while you felt like you were unravelling.
so you decided to push him.
you flirted with everyone but him. you laughed a little too loudly at a joke a handsome stranger made. you let your hand linger on the arm of a guy who clearly had no idea what personal space was. you disappeared into the crowd, weaving through the sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, pretending jay didnāt exist.
but he did. he always did.
suddenly, a manātall, broad-shouldered, with a cocky grināstepped into your space, his hand hovering near your waist as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. his breath smelled like whisky, the proximity way too close for your comfort.Ā
you froze, your smile faltering. before you could react, jay was there.
he moved like a shadow, swift and silent, stepping between you and the man with a presence that was impossible to ignore. his voice was cool but sharp, cutting through the noise of the party like a knife. āhands off.ā
the man blinked, his grin faltering as he took in jayās imposing figure. āwhoa, man, i was justāā
āi donāt care what you were just doing,ā jay said, his tone low and dangerous. āback off.ā
the man hesitated, his eyes flicking between you and jay, before he finally raised his hands in surrender and slunk away. you stared after him, stunned, your heart pounding in your chest.
when you turned back to jay, he was already looking at you, his expression unreadable but his eyes blazing with something you couldnāt quite place. he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. āyou have no idea what youāre doing.ā
your breath caught. āwhat are you talking about?ā
he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, his voice rough and tinged with something that sounded almost like frustration. āflirting with strangers. disappearing into crowds. acting like youāre invincible. youāre not.ā
you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. āi can take care of myself.ā
ācan you?ā he asked, his tone challenging. ābecause from where iām standing, it looks like youāre just trying to get a rise out of me.ā
you opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. he was closeātoo closeāhis body crowding yours, his heat radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, a mix of vanilla and something woodsy, and it made your head spin.
as the night wore on, you couldnāt stop thinking about itāthe way heād looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, rough and low and so, so close. you caught yourself glancing at him more than once, your heart skipping a beat every time your eyes met his.
oh.
so he did care.
it happens slowly. or maybe it doesnāt. maybe itās been happening this whole time, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for you to notice. but now, you do.
you start noticing the way he moves. always a step ahead, always positioning himself between you and anything that could be a threat. his sleeves are always rolled up, revealing the veins that line his forearms, his hands steady and sure. you notice the way he watches you, his dark eyes scanning every room like heās mapping out every possible danger, but itās never just that. thereās something else in his gaze, something you canāt quite name.
and worse? you start feeling it.
the heat in your chest when his hand brushes yours as he passes you a coffee. the frustration that coils in your stomach when someone else looks at him for too long. the way your breath catches when he says your name instead of brat or princess or whatever sarcastic nickname heās come up with that day.
this is a problem.
but you handle it the way you always doāby pushing him.
itās late, with the city feeling quiet, almost peaceful, and the only light comes from the flickering neon sign of a 24-hour diner. youāre sitting in a booth by the window, picking at a plate of fries you didnāt really want but ordered anyway because you were too stubborn to admit you were hungry. jay sits across from you, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the nearly empty diner like itās a potential battlefield.
you roll your eyes. ārelax, jay. the only danger here is the cholesterol in these fries.ā
he just takes a sip of his black coffee, his expression as unreadable as ever.
you lean back in the booth, crossing your arms over your chest. āyou know, you donāt have to babysit me 24/7. iām not a child.ā
his eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. ācouldāve fooled me.ā
you glare at him. āexcuse me?ā
he sets his coffee cup down, his voice low and even. āyou act like rules donāt apply to you. like youāre invincible. youāre not.ā
your jaw tightens. āand you act like youāre my dad. newsflashāyouāre not.ā
for a moment, neither of you speaks. the tension between you is thick, almost suffocating, and you can feel it building, building, building until it finally snaps.
āwhy do you even care so much?ā you demand, your voice rising just enough to draw the attention of the tired-looking waitress behind the counter.
jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. āyou donāt get it, do you?ā
your heartbeat stutters. āthen explain it to me.ā
for a second, he says nothing. he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours like heās trying to figure you out. then he stands, slow and deliberate, and slides into the booth beside you. heās close now, closer than heās ever let himself be, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of your shirt.
you donāt back away.
his eyes flicker to your lips, and your breath catches. the air between you is so thin, so sharp you can almost taste it.
he leans in, his voice low and rough. āyou have no idea what iād do to keep you safe.ā
your pulse is in your throat, waiting, waiting, waiting.
but before anything can happenā
the bell above the diner door jingles, and a group of loud, laughing teenagers spills inside, shattering the moment.
jay pulls back instantly, his jaw tightening as he slides out of the booth. he doesnāt look at you, doesnāt say a word. he just walks to the counter, his posture rigid, like nothing happened.
like nothing almost happened.
but you know better.
you press a hand to your chest, trying to steady your heartbeat, but itās no use. your mind is racing, replaying the moment over and over againāthe way heād looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the way your body had reacted to his nearness.
this is getting dangerous.
later, as you sit in the back of the car on the way home, you canāt stop thinking about it. jay is in the driverās seat, his eyes fixed on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. you stare at the back of his head, your thoughts a tangled mess.
you think about the way heād stepped between you and that guy at the party, his voice sharp and commanding. you think about the way heād leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.
and you think about the way heād pulled away, like it was nothing, like it didnāt mean anything.
but it did. you know it did.
you mentally groan, leaning your head against the window. this is a problem. a big problem. because no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you canāt deny it anymore.
you like him.
and thatās the most dangerous thing of all.
you donāt talk about it.
the almost-kiss, the tension that stains every interaction nowāit hangs between you like a live wire, sharp and charged. you find yourself watching him more, catching the way he looks at you when he thinks you donāt notice. his gaze lingers a little too long, his movements a little too deliberate, and it drives you insane.
but you donāt talk about it.
instead, you push. you push him, you push yourself, you push the boundaries of whatever this is between you. and he pushes back, always steady, always in control, untilā
one day it happens fast. too fast.
youāre walking back to the car after an event, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. jay is a step behind you, his presence a constant, grounding force. youāre arguing about something stupidāsomething meaninglessābecause thatās what you do now. you bicker, you snipe, you push each otherās buttons, all while pretending the tension between you doesnāt exist.
and then, out of nowhere, it happens.
you donāt even see it coming. one moment, youāre stepping off the curb, and the next, jay is movingāswift, silent, and utterly precise. he shoves you out of the way, his body shielding yours as a figure lunges at you from the shadows.
thereās a flash of metal, a grunt of pain, and then the sound of footsteps retreating into the night.
you stumble, catching yourself against the car, your heart pounding in your chest. ājayāā
heās already turning, his hand pressed to his side, his breathing steady despite the blood seeping through his fingers. āget in the car.ā
you stare at him, your mind racing. āyouāre bleeding. we need to go to the hospitalālā
āitās nothing, just a scratchā he says, his voice calm, like this is just another day on the job. like he didnāt just take a knife for you.
but itās not nothing. itās not nothing because your hands are shaking as you reach for him, your fingers brushing against the warm, sticky blood staining his shirt. ājayāā
āget in the car,ā he repeats, his tone sharper this time. ānow.ā
you donāt argue. you canāt. your mind is a blur as you climb into the passenger seat, your eyes never leaving him as he slides behind the wheel. his movements are steady, controlled, but you can see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel.
the drive home is silent, the air between you thick with unspoken words. you keep glancing at him, your chest tight with something you canāt quite name. fear. guilt. something else.
when you finally arrive, you follow him inside, your hands still trembling. he heads straight for the bathroom, and you trail after him, your heart hammering in your chest.
ālet me see,ā you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
he doesnāt argue this time. he just sits on the edge of the bathtub, his shirt already half-off, revealing the deep gash along his side. itās not fatal, not even close, but itās enough to make your stomach twist.
you grab the first aid kit from under the sink and kneel in front of him, your hands shaking as you clean the wound. he doesnāt flinch, doesnāt make a sound, but you can feel his eyes on you, heavy and unreadable.
āyou shouldnāt have done that,ā you say, your voice breaking. āyou shouldnāt haveāā
āitās my job,ā he interrupts, his tone calm, like that explains everything.
but it doesnāt. not to you. not when your hands are stained with his blood, not when your chest feels like itās about to collapse under the weight of everything youāre feeling.
ādonāt,ā you whisper, your voice trembling. ādonāt do that again.ā
he looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours, and for the first time, you see itāthe crack in his armour. the flicker of something raw, something real.
āyou donāt get it,ā he says, his voice low and rough. āiād do it again. every time.ā
your breath catches, your hands still pressed against his side. āwhy?ā
he doesnāt answer. not with words, at least. instead, he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch so gentle it makes your chest ache.
and thatās it. thatās the breaking point.
you donāt think. you donāt hesitate. you just pull him in, your lips crashing against his in a kiss thatās equal parts desperation and relief. for a moment, he doesnāt move, doesnāt respond, and youāre terrified youāve made a mistake.
but then his hands are in your hair, his mouth moving against yours, and itās like the world stops. the tension, the anger, the fear, it all melts away, leaving nothing but the two of you.
the room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the overhead light. jayās hands are still tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. you can feel the rapid beat of his heart where your hand rests against his chest, and itās almost comforting, knowing heās as affected by this as you are.
but then he pulls back, his expression shuttering as he regains control. āwe shouldnāt have done that,ā he says, his voice low and rough.
you blink, your chest tightening at his words. āwhy not?ā
he doesnāt answer right away. instead, he stands, his movements stiff as he turns away from you. ābecause it complicates things.ā
you stare at him, your heart sinking. ācomplicates things? jay, you just took a knife for me. i think things are already complicated.ā
he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. āyou donāt understand.ā
āthen explain it to me,ā you snap, your frustration bubbling over. ābecause iām tired of pretending like thisāwhatever this isādoesnāt exist.ā
he turns to look at you, his dark eyes blazing with something you canāt quite name. āyou think i donāt feel it too? you think i donāt wantāā he cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as he looks away. āit doesnāt matter what i want. my job is to keep you safe. thatās it.ā
you step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. āand what if i donāt want you to just be my bodyguard? what if i want more?ā
he doesnāt respond. not with words, at least. but you can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. for a moment, you think he might give in, might finally let himself feel something.
but then he steps back, his expression hardening. āyou donāt know what youāre asking for.ā
you laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. ādonāt i? because from where iām standing, it seems like youāre the one whoās scared.ā
his eyes narrow, and for a second, you think youāve pushed him too far. but then he exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat. āyouāre right. i am scared. because if something happens to youāif i let myself care too much and i canāt protect youāā he cuts himself off, his voice breaking. āi canāt lose you.ā
your breath catches, your chest tightening at the raw emotion in his voice. ājayāā
he doesnāt let you finish. instead, he steps forward, his hands cupping your face as he kisses you again. this time, itās softer, slower, like heās trying to memorise the feel of you. and you let him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pull him closer, your heart pounding in your chest.
when he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, you can see the vulnerability in his eyes. āi canāt promise this will be easy,ā he says, his voice low and rough. ābut i can promise iāll do everything in my power to keep you safe.ā
you swallow, your throat tight with emotion. āthatās all iāve ever wanted.ā
you donāt talk about it for a full twenty-four hours.
not because you regret it. god, no. if anything, the memory of his hands on you, his lips against yours, plays on a loop in your mind, leaving you breathless every time. but now, thereās no going back. no pretending this isnāt real. no pretending you donāt feel the way his presence sets your skin on fire, or the way your heart races when he looks at you like youāre the only thing that matters.
jay is still jay. still overprotective, still infuriating, still the same stoic bodyguard who drives you up the wall. but now?
now, every argument ends with him pulling you in by the waist, his voice low and rough as he murmurs, āyouāre impossible,ā before silencing you with a kiss.
now, every lingering stare actually leads to somethingāa brush of his hand against yours, a heated glance that makes your stomach flip, a moment where the tension between you becomes too much to ignore.
and now, your father figures it out almost immediately.
it happens during a family dinner, of all things. youāre sitting at the table, picking at your food while jay sits in his usual spot by you. your father is at the head of the table, his sharp gaze flicking between you and jay with a calculating look that makes your stomach sink.
you try to act normal. you really do. but when jayās hand brushes against yours as he passes you a glass of water, and you catch yourself smiling at him without thinking, your father clears his throat.
āso,ā he says, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. āwhen were you planning on telling me?ā
you freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth. ātelling you what?ā
your father raises an eyebrow, gesturing between you and jay. āabout this.ā
you feel your face heat, your heart pounding in your chest. āiāwhat are you talking about?ā
your father sighs, rubbing his temples like heās already done with this conversation. āat least itās him.ā
jay freezes, his posture stiffening as he looks at your father. you gape, your mind racing. āexcuse me?ā
your father shrugs, leaning back in his chair. āyou were always a handful, but he can handle it.ā
you stare at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. this is not the reaction you were expecting. not even close. you were prepared for yelling, for threats, for jay to be fired on the spot. but this? this casual acceptance? itās almost worse.
you turn to jay, still reeling. āis this really happening?ā
jay looks equally disturbed, his jaw tight as he meets your fatherās gaze. āsir, iāā
your father holds up a hand, cutting him off. ādonāt. just⦠keep her out of trouble. thatās all i ask.ā
and just like that, the conversation is over. your father goes back to his meal like nothing happened, leaving you and jay to exchange a stunned look.
later, when youāre alone in your room, jay leans against the door, his arms crossed as he watches you pace back and forth. āwell,ā he says, his voice dry, āthat couldāve gone worse.ā
you stop pacing, turning to glare at him. āworse? he basically gave us his blessing. thatās not worse. thatās⦠i donāt even know what that is.ā
jay shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. āguess youāre stuck with me.ā
you roll your eyes, but you donāt pull away when he steps closer, his hands settling on your waist. ālucky me,ā you mutter, though the way your heart skips a beat betrays your words.
jayās smirk softens into something warmer, his eyes searching yours. āyou say that like itās a bad thing.ā
you donāt respond. not with words, at least. instead, you lean into him, your hands resting against his chest as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. ājust donāt let it go to your head, okay?ā
he chuckles, the sound low and warm, before leaning down to kiss you. and as his lips brush against yours, you realise something.
After months of false alarms, Lee Know proves heās more than just bark and no bite.
pt.2 of Just tying the knot
It had been three days away from the city and Minho had been a bit⦠odd.Ā
Not in the obvious āsomethingās wrongā kind of way. Just⦠off. Like his mind was somewhere else.
But Minho had āweird daysā sometimes. You didnāt press.
The two of you had escaped to a quiet countryside guesthouse, tucked behind a wraparound garden with a sky so clear it felt scrubbed clean.Ā
Youād spend most of the day walking trails, feeding stray cats near the village market, and laughing at how Minho, predictably, kept getting distracted by every single one. Every cat, no matter how scruffy or aloof, had his full attention until you tugged at his sleeve and teased, āWeāre not adopting another, you know.ā
āJust saying hello,ā heād mutter, but his grin betrayed him.
By night, the air had cooled enough for you to pull on a sweater. Maybe you were wearing his. Maybe you always ended up wearing his.Ā
You stood with him on the patio, a blanket draped over both your shoulders, leaning against the railing of the little patio, little soft light illuminating the space around you like little fireflies. Above you, the stars spilled wide and bright, scattered like spilled glitter across an endless black canvas.
āWow,ā you breathed. āI donāt think Iāve ever seen this many.ā
Beside you, Minho hummed low in his chest. His hand was warm, wrapped around yours beneath the blanket. āCity doesnāt let you. Too many lights.ā
You tilted your chin skyward, trying to trace the constellations you half-remembered from textbooks. But when Minho spoke again, his voice was softer ā almost thoughtful. āKind of unfair how pretty it is.ā
But when you glanced over, he wasnāt looking at the sky.
He was looking at you.
You tried to play it off, tilting your head back again to search the stars, but you felt the weight of his gaze linger. His thumb brushed absently over your knuckles. And in that unspoken way you sometimes did, you thought about how seamlessly your life had folded into his. There was no border anymore between yours and his ā it had happened without either of you noticing.
His hand shifted. You looked down to see his fingers brushing the delicate chain at your throat ā the small pendant that had been his very first gift to you years ago, back when the two of you had been dating only a few months. You hadnāt even realized youād grabbed it this morning.
He held it between his fingers for a beat, a faint smile flickering across his lips that said more than words could before lifting his gaze towards the sky. His eyes lingered for a moment, like he was grounding himself in the endless stretch of stars. When his gaze came back to you, it carried a weight you couldnāt name yet.
But he didnāt say anything. Just released the pendant carefully, letting it fall back against your skin.
āHeyā¦ā He reached for your hand, squeezing it in his for a moment.
Before you could respond, he let go.
Not abruptly. Just⦠gently. Lingering, like he was reluctant to break the contact. You watched his fingers slip away from yours, confused, until he took one slow step back.
Then another.
And thenāhe lowered to one knee.
For a heartbeat, your brain didnāt compute. Your first thought ā embarrassingly ā was āOh, here we go againā. That stupid reflex from months of false alarms flaring up, a half-second muscle memory of exasperation. But when your eyes met his, the thought died instantly.
No smirk. No glint of mischief. Just⦠Minho, looking up at you. His expression was shy ā almost nervous ā with the faintest crease between his brows like he wasnāt sure if he could get the words out right.
Your chest tightened.
āMinhoā¦ā you said softly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders.Ā
He took a breath, eyes flicking briefly towards the ground before finding yours again. The patio light caught in his eyes, warm and bright. āI know what youāre thinking,ā he said quietly. āThat Iām messing with you again.ā
You huffed out a tiny laugh, because, well⦠yeah. āKind of hard not to.ā
His lips quirked, but it didnāt reach his eyes. āI meant it when I told you Iād want you to know when itās real. And.. this is.ā
The air around you shifted, heavy with something beyond jokes and teases.
He reached into his jacket pocket, and your breath caught when he pulled out a small velvet box.
āThis isnāt because you threatened to beat me to it,ā he said, his voice warm but still carrying that edge of nervousness. āAnd itās not because I ran out of ways to tease you.ā
Your throat tightened painfully.
āItās because,ā he went on, āafter five years of you putting up with me. Laughing with me, making me feel likeāā he swallowed, āālike Iām home no matter where we are⦠I canāt picture any part of my life without you in it. And⦠I donāt want to keep living a life where I hope youāll always be there. I want to know. I want to make it certain. I want it to be us. Always.ā
You blinked rapidly. You werenāt the type to cry, and youād probably laugh at yourself if you did. But when you glanced up at the sky for a second, the stars were a little blurry.
āSo,ā he breathed, opening the box to reveal a beautiful, slender ring, āwill you marry me?ā
For a second, you just stared. Partly because your brain was still catching up, partly because Minho looked so hopeful ā like heād been holding his breath for months, maybe years, waiting for this exact moment.
And then you sank down before your mind could even catch up, knees pressing against the cool wood as your hands cupped his face. āYeah⦠yes,ā you whispered, voice breaking into a laugh. āOf course, Iād marry you.ā
His shoulders sagged with an exhale, the smile breaking across his face slow and unstoppable. He slid the ring onto your finger with hands that were slightly trembling despite his collected exterior.
You weakly added, āPabo,ā as if he couldāve really thought you wouldnāt say no to him.
Minho caught your expression instantly. His grin softened, his eyes glinting. āYou just realized, didnāt you?ā
Your mouth opened, then closed again, words scrambling out uselessly. āI meanāI knew, obviously, I justāā
He chuckled, thumb brushing over the new ring on your finger like he was memorizing the sight. āUnbelievable. I spend months teasing you about proposing, and when I finally do, youāre more shocked by what it meant as a consequence.ā
Heat flooded your cheeks. āThatās notāokay, maybe a little.ā
āMinho!ā you groaned, burying your face in his shoulder to hide the stupid grin spreading across your face.
He laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair, his voice low and teasing against your ear. āBetter get used to it. Youāre stuck with me now, jagiya.ā his smile grew sly, āOr⦠should I start calling you yeobo soonāā
Before he could finish the word, you grabbed the collar of his jacket and kissed him, catching him mid-tease this time. He made a muffled sound against your mouth, then melted into it, his laughter humming low in his chest as he kissed you back.
-----
Later, curled back on the patio with the blanket and his head resting against yours, you murmured, āYou know, Iām glad you chose to ask like this and not that time Dori started throwing up.ā
He groaned. āYou had to bring that up now?ā
āYou were kneeling, Minho. I thought that was it. My heart almost gave outāand then you had to clean up cat vomit.ā
He buried his face in your shoulder with a muffled groan while you laughed, the sound echoing up towards the endless sky.
IN WHICH Emperor Zhanghao uses the imperial command to wed both you and Prince Shen. Normally, one would be happy to be wedded to a prince and become one of the most powerful ladies in the Empire. However, the young master of the Ducal house of Shen is said to be a cold and indifferent man. Oh! And did I mention that your duchy and his are enemies? Right! The cherry on topāI almost forgot that you have a weak body too haha⦠How will you survive the harsh Northern lands? Will you get along well with your husband? Will you be treated alright in an unfamiliar environment? Shall you just return back to the comfort of your home?
FEATURING Zerobaseoneās Ricky as the son of Duke Shen, Prince Shen Quanrui and you as the daughter of Duke Han, Princess Han Y/N.
GENRE romance, angst, fluff | historical fantasy, supposed enemies to lovers, forced marriage, northern duke au
WARNINGS (13k words) non-gender neutral reader (reader will be using female pronouns/titles), forced marriage, infidelity, mild swearing, mentions of abuse, and miscommunication.
NOTE hello! this is finally the end for melting point. Iām so proud of my work and I hope you all enjoy it! A tad bit sad that this has finally ended but I am so glad I picked back my writing docs and finished this. Love you all and I hope you enjoy!
MORE WORKS ā navigation | zb1!masterlist | story!masterlist
CHAPTER ONE: THE HUNTER AND THE PREY
WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN, all your life, youāve been told to hate someone because theyāre your familyās opponent and then all of a sudden (in a matter of five days), you need to act as if youāve been on good terms with them? No guidebook or school course could have prepared you for whatās to happen right now.
Yes, of course youāre aware that youād be married off to your fatherās choice of family for all your life, you think youāve accepted it already. I mean, one would think so after being reminded of it all your life right? Itās not like itās uncommon anyways. Everyone in the nobility marries through convenience and then has flings with their lovers. Itās more common than you think. Youād know, since you caught one of your fatherās friends with their mistress once.
Yet, whoād assume that youād be married off to the Ducal House of Shen of all people? You donāt think you would have put that in your bingo (yes, bingo exists back then) list this yearāor any year to be honest.
For a bit of background to the confused readers (breaking the fourth wall letās gaurr), The Zerose Empire exists with four ducal houses: Park, which exists in the west; Kim, from the South; Han of the East, and Shen of the North. Your family, The Ducal house of Han, has always been in opposition with the Ducal house of Shen. It was a fact that everyone knew, and it was a dislike that stemmed from way back then. (one so long that you donāt even know the reason anymore, just that you werenāt supposed to like them.)
And yes, the dislike is still rooted to this day. You could imagine how tired the Emperor, other noble houses, and ministry workers were. By this point they were quite sick of the petty arguments from both the ducal households. So sick, in fact, that Emperor Zhanghao IV, used the imperial command and declared that āDuke Han shall bring forth his most beloved daughter to marry Duke Shenās successor.ā
Your father almost had a heart attack after the declaration, but it was of no use to bargain since the imperial command was used.
In your opinion, father was a pretty good man. Not perfect or clean of course, but good. Your mother was the first wife, and surprisingly, the only wife he truly loved. It was unfortunate that mother died a year after you were born because of her weak body, and even more unfortunate that her only child turned out to be pretty weak too. He had remarried once more since then, and has had a few mistresses and children out of wedlock in an attempt to cure his aching heart. Despite the new ladies, you were still the first in his heart considering you were the only child he had out of the wife he loves.
Having a big room beside your fatherās in the second floor all to yourself when all the others had to be in the first floor spiked a few jealous hearts, but your father was persistent and only allowed you the best despite your not-so-healthy body. So it was to no oneās surprise that Emperor Zhanghao meant for your father to pick you to be married to the young master of the Shen Ducal house.
That was five days ago. Your father had begged for your understanding to comply with the Emperorās words despite him not liking the command either. He had told you that it was for the unity of the Empire and that the Ducal house of Shen had promised to your father and the Emperor that they would treat you with utmost respect; and that if they break that promise, you would be sent back with ten times the alimony paid by your father. (and boy was the original alimony already a crazy amount)
You had told your father to not worry about it as you knew your father worried for you greatly. After all, in his eyes, you were still the weak baby that he held in his arms just last week. How could he send a weak child to the harsh northern lands where you were unfamiliar with everything? Of course, you had your own worries too. Different from your fatherās, though. Mostly about your own soon to be husband.
Unlike your family, where many children reside, the Ducal house of Shen only had one heir. The young master of the North, Shen Quanrui, was said to be a cold man according to the rumors youāve heard from your maids. He was quiet and reserved, only showing his face in high society once in a blue moon. Similar to you in that matter, except it was because you were often too sick to attend rather than introverted.
You too had only met him once, in the Empireās founding anniversary ball. Though you didnāt have the best memory, you could easily recall that face of his. Blonde hair that seemed to be dyed and striking blue eyes, it was as if he stepped out of a fantasy storybook. Youāre sure he wore colored contacts back then, considering that both the Duke and Duchess had dark eyes. Nevertheless it didnāt change the fact that he was probably the most handsome man youāve ever seen. You remember exchanging eye contact with him for a bit longer than you should have, and you remember how he raked your appearance with his eyes as if he was the hunter and you were the prey. You rolled your eyes and left back then despite the butterflies you got.
The sound of your bedroom door opening strips you out of your imagination.
āSister,ā said the voice of a young boy, ācan I come in?ā
āYes,ā you answered, ācome in, Yujin.ā
Han Yujin, the son of your father and his second mistress, was the only half-sibling you deemed close to you. His mother had died early on due to the same sickness as yours did, leaving him alone to fend off all the jealous eyes around him. You had sympathized with him, so you decided to keep him close and make him untouchable as one of your people. The young boy has since then grown attached to you, listening attentively to everything you say. Now, the young boy had become strong and wise, making him one of the successor candidates.
āI heard from father that youād be married to that damned man, Shen Quanrui or whatever,ā Sulked Yujin.
āThat damned man,ā you sighed, āis still a respectable man who fended off the wild beasts and is a close aide of the Emperor, you shouldnāt speak of him with that tone.ā
āButāsister! Heās our enemy, weāre not supposed to like him! Andāand, I heard from the maids that heās a cruel and heartless man. What if he treats you harshly and locks you up in a tower or something!? What if heās an indifferent husband who never looks after his wife and just messes around with other women? You deserve someone whoād love you and treat you as the apple of their eyeāsomeone likeāā
āYujin,ā Your voice stopped his train of thoughts as you held his hand, ādonāt worry too much, okay? Itās not like Iām going there alone. My personal maids and Dr. Seok would be with me in the North, and they would report to father if anything happened. If he ever treats me cruelly, then Iāll be back here before you know it.ā
āBut stillā¦I donāt want you away from me..ā
āAWEE is my baby brother worried for me~ā you teased as you squished him into a hug, emitting a loud Hey! from him as he tried to get out of your tight grasp.
Whether your words were to reassure him or you; however, you donāt know.
Who would have known that youād get married to that man two weeks from now? Who would have known that youād have to pretend like you didnāt hate this man all your life because youāre supposed to marry him? Who would have known that the first time youād exchange pleasantries with your soon to be husband would be in your wedding aisle? Who would have known that youād be moving away from your fatherās protection and into the cold and dangerous land in less than a month? Goodness, may the heavens spare you.
YOUāRE CLOSE TO SLAPPING Emperor Zhanghao. Okay, so maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration unless you want a one way ticket to a death penalty. But what the hell man. It was so (notice the sarcasm?) nice of him to let you marry a man youāre supposed to hate that he even gave you a due date of two weeks to be locked in for life. What is the meaning of marriage to him? Homework? I mean it might as well be since no one wanted thisā¦
But here you are preparing for your wedding as the maids have meticulously worked their magic on you. Hours of hard work to make you āthe most beautiful bride to ever exist that not even the cold young master could resist.ā (says them) They expected him to fall on his knees and have his spring blossom the moment he laid eyes on you. Though you didnāt believe it, you still laughed along with them.
When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you were honestly taken aback. Clad in a simple yet elegant dress with your hair up, you looked like a painting. Damn, did they really outdo themselves. If that man doesnāt fall in love with you (or at least find you the slightest bit attractive) at first sight then heās probably just not into women. (It honestly doesnāt sound impossible considering that youāve never heard of him being in a relationship with a woman before.)
It doesnāt really hit you that youāre getting married until your father comes in. The moment you see the tears in his eyes, you also feel your eyes water. You remember being young and dreaming of how youād marry someone you love. You remember planning your dream wedding. This was it. This was what you had always imagined. Yet, all at the same time, it seemed so different. The reality of your situation juxtaposing the wedding you have always dreamed of. Oh, to be young and naive.
You bite your lip and look down, unable to face them. It seemed as if your father could read your thoughts as he took your hands in his.
āOh y/nā¦ā He started carefully, as if thinking on what to say next so you wouldnāt feel upset on your big day.
āItās fineāā
āIām sorry.ā
āWhat?ā
āI-I know youāve been dreaming of this day for a long time, Iām sorry we only had a short time to prepare for it. But, I promise you, I did my best to make it as grandiose as I could possibly do so andāā
āNo, seriously, itās fine,ā you denied, despite not being the most pleased, you know that your father had tried his best for you and you didnāt want to seem ungrateful, āIām just melancholic that we wonāt be as close anymore. I was informed that even though the Duke and Duchess are here in the capital, Prince Shen handles the matters in the North.ā
āAh!ā Exclaimed your father as if he had just realized, āDonāt worry about that! The North has the fastest trains in the kingdom. You can visit us anytime, it would only take you five hours.ā
āOh really?ā You said, pretending that you didnāt know that fact, āThatās great then, I can visit anytime I want.ā
āYes yesānow come, hold my hand once more. Itās time to walk the aisle.ā
You hold his arm, finally walking out of the dressing room and towards the venue. The walk was mostly silent, and no one talked until you both reached the closed door that opens to the venue.
āY/n.ā said your father in a heavy voice.
āYes?ā
āI know I donāt say this often, but I hope for your happiness. If he ever makes you unhappy, then come back to me. Iāll even commit treason if the Emperor stands in the way, haha.ā
āFatherā¦ā
āI know, I know. Gosh, I sound so old. Ready to meet the son of that corpulent piece of shit?ā
āFather!ā
āOops sorry, old habits die hard. I mean, ready to meet your husband?ā
āYeah yeah, letās just go already.ā
Your father signaled the attendant to open the door, and shortly after, you could hear the announcer call your title. You realize that this may be the last time youād be called with the surname Han.
You had little time to ponder on it though, as soon the gates opened and you had to focus on not tripping on your heels as you walked beside your father down the aisle.
The wedding venue wasā¦wow, honestly. Your father is surely a big liar, you conclude. Pretty? Not even words can describe how beautiful the venue is. Youād think the wedding was planned for two years if you were an onlooker. The venue was held in a historical building which had lots of carved statues and decorative designs. Huge pillars hold up the roof, each pillar covered in vines and flowers. The roof in itself had hand-painted art that seemed to wash out from time, and a huge chandelier held on to the roof in the middle, sparkling so bright that it seemed like diamonds. Fresh white and purple flowers decorated the guestsā tables, and all around the venue were violinists in white dresses, standing on a short and small podium, seeming to mimic the sculptures that decorate the walls.
The road in front of you seemed to be shining, and you donāt realize how near you are until you feel your father let your hand go. Ah, this was it. He transferred your hand to an unfamiliar one, and it was only now that you finally looked at your soon-to-beās face. It was slightly distorted thanks to the veil, but from what you could tell, the man was wearing a full white tux made from silk and decorated by pearls, with a black tie to complete his outfit.
āAt least he doesnāt have a boring fashion taste,ā you conclude.
Time passes, and before you know it, you have already said your promises and āI doās.
āPlease exchange rings,ā says the priest.
Prince Shen takes the ring first, and then holds your hand. As he puts the ring on you, you could slightly feel his hand tremble.
āHa?ā you think, ādoes he despise me so much that the touch of my hand makes him furious?ā
It leaves a bitter taste to your tongue, surprisingly. Your thoughts make you miss the lingering touch of his thumb on your ring finger. And, when it got to your turn, you quickly put the ring on his finger, letting go of his hand right after.
āYou may kiss the bride to seal the promise,ā declares the priest.
You could see his hands hold the bottom of the veil, before lifting it, finally giving you an opportunity to see his face. You conclude that God certainly took a long time to make that face. His face was the same as you remembered. Striking and attention-grabbing in a good way. The only thing that bothered you seemed to be his eyes. It seemed cold and distant, yet sharp. It was as if he was able to uncover all your secrets, and it made you nervous.
You feel his hand reach out to your chin, and you hold your breath. It was like you couldnāt breath, eyes searching all over his face on what heād do next. He leans in, and your thoughts flood in a panic. It was like you were frozen, unable to move. Your heart starts beating so loud that you can't hear anything else. What should I do? How should I react? Why is he getting so cloā
āMay I?ā He breathed out, and you can just feel his breath right in front of your lips.
No? I donāt know. No, thank you. No, no, noā
āYes,ā you answered breathlessly, as if finally letting yourself take in the air.
And before you could overthink once more, his lips crashed into yours, so desperate for it that you had to hold his arm to stabilize yourself. It was as if he had been waiting for this for a long timeālike an impatient tiger having to wait for the right time to finally strike its prey. And, just like a tiger who never lets go of its prey, he doesnāt seem to have any intention in letting you escape.
CHAPTER TWO: AN UNWELCOME BRIDE
THERE WAS NO TIME LEFT for an afterparty. Just right before your first night, Prince Quanrui immediately got a message urging him to return to the North. You didnāt really get the full story, but it seemed to be related to the wild beasts invading a town near the border. He had gone with his subordinates first to see the situation, and had told your attendees to have you leave the following morning. You parted from your father and brother early in the morning after hearing the news, taking the first train available that morning. Whether the call would be a blessing or a curse, you choose to be positive for now.
Nevermind.
Everyone seemed to praise the bolt trains of the North so much that they forget to mention how nauseating it is to actually ride it. Fast? Yeah, for sure. Safe? You have to think twice. Long travels already take a toll on you normally, so this was basically a freeway to being bed-ridden for at least a week.
Thank goodness your personal doctor, Seok Matthew, had chosen to accompany you to the North. Without him, you would have definitely felt a lot worse than you do now.
Now. Rightānow. Now, you are in the chambers of what once was your enemy, and now of someone you must pretend to care for. You had wished to at least make a good first impression to your subordinates, but your head was killing you by the time you left the train. This was how you ended up being escorted to your new chambers immediately, and also how you have been spending the next two days. Bedridden, with Dr. Seok and your personal attendants right beside you.
At the very least, you have met the head butler, Hanbin, and he assured you that no one bears harsh feelings for you just because you werenāt able to greet them properly. ( you werenāt so convinced, but you let it go in your heart to reassure yourself. )
A knock disrupts your thoughts.
āMadam, this is Hanbin, can I come in?ā
āOhāyes, yes. Please come in,ā you rushed out, sitting straight and fixing your messy hair.
The door opens, and a sturdy bachelor walks in with your afternoon snacks. Three finger sandwiches and a pot of chamomile teaādespite the feelings going around your head, your stomach seems to agree with todayās choice of snack.
Hanbin placed down the dish as you watched him with uneasy eyes. He was niceāin fact, too nice. It didnāt feel right that a person of the duchy would show such hospitality to a bride of the enemy house, despite the ātruceā. You kind of expected more hostility than whatever is happening to youā¦likeāfor example; someone āaccidentallyā spilling water on you, or combing your hair harshly, perhaps even someone giving you the evil eye.? ( you swear your paranoia was caused by the amount of evil step-mother novels youāve read.. )
He seemed to sense the stare you gave, as he let out a cough, breaking your trance.
āUhāis there anything you need, madam?ā He asked awkwardly, throwing a funny smile.
āIām curious about something, if that would be okay for you to answer,ā You replied hesitantly.
āOh, of course! How can I help?ā He replied instantly, kind of reminding you of a puppyā¦
āWhen will my husband come back home?ā I ask.
āAh..ā he seemed hesitant; you narrowed your eyes, āperhaps in two days.? Iām not so sure, madam.ā
ā..Alright.ā I let out, ātell him to visit me once he does. I must speak to him.ā
āYes, madam.ā
And when Hanbin leaves and the door shuts, the echo of your loneliness is met once more.
TWO DAYS PASS, and you finally rise from bed, steadier than before. Your doctor assures you that youāre well enough to start moving around, and Hanbinānot quite hiding his reliefātells you in that gentle voice that your husband has returned.
You nod, brushing off invisible dust from your sleeves. Good, you think. You need answers. Not just about the household, or the expectations now hanging over your shoulders like lead chainsābut about him. Your husband.
You donāt expect a warm welcome. That much, youāve already let go of. But you do expect a meeting. A greeting. Some kind of acknowledgment. Any kind, actually.
So when you stand at the doors of his officeānot your chambers, not a dining table, but his private spaceāand are told that āHis Grace is occupied and unavailable,ā your patience splinters.
( No oneās ever said no to you also, so that added to your annoyance. )
The guardāno, not Hanbin this time, someone else; tall with brown hair who introduced himself as Gyuvinābows and repeats it with more formal stiffness.
āHis Grace has requested not to be disturbed, Your Grace.ā
Your Grace.
A title you never asked for, from a man you barely know.
You stand there a few more seconds, not moving, just breathing. Deep, quiet. And then, you turn.
DINNER IS HELD in the eastern hall that evening. Thereās an absurd number of candles, a quartet of musicians playing something soft and forgettable in the corner, and a long table that stretches too far for a dinner with just one attendee.
That one attendee being you.
You stare at the empty chair at the other end of the table. No second plate. No poured wine. No footsteps down the hallway. You wait ten minutes. Fifteen.
Nothing.
A maid comes near, asking if you would like the food reheated.
You inhale slowly to calm your anger, count to three, and shake your head.
āTell Dr. Seok I may have overestimated my recovery today. Iāll turn in for the evening.ā
Except you donāt go to your chambers.
YOU PUSH OPEN THE DOOR to his chambers.
The scent hits you firstācold metal, faint leather, something darker underneath. Itās a battlefield in here, dressed as a room. Sparse. Austere. Distant.
Prince Quanrui doesnāt look up right away. Heās standing by the dresser, shrugging off a bloodied cloak. The faint drag of his shirt across his shoulder reveals a flash of redādried, but angry-looking.
You speak before he can say anything, tone snappy.
āSo you are back.ā
He stiffens. āYou shouldnāt be in here.ā
āIs this how you greet your wife?ā
āI told them not to let anyone in.ā
āWell, they didnāt let me,ā you say tightly. āI walked in myself.ā
A pause. He turns, slowly. The moment your eyes meet, it feels like ice against glassāclear, cold, cracking with pressure neither of you fully understand.
āI just came from the field,ā he says. āItās not⦠sanitary.ā
You scoff. āDonāt worry, Iām not that delicate.ā
He says nothing to that. Instead, he crosses the room and begins unstrapping the belt at his waistācalm, impersonal. As if youāre a servant, or worse, a stranger.
āAre you avoiding me?ā you ask.
He doesnāt even blink. āIāve been busy.ā
āYou didnāt even come to dinner.ā
āI ate in my office.ā
āThatās not the same thing.ā
āI wasnāt aware I had to report to you for every schedule.ā
You flinch. Then your jaw sets.
āRight. Of course not. Silly me, assuming a husband would want to dine with the wife he was forced to marry.ā
That gets him. Briefly. He stills mid-motion, eyes sharp. āDonāt twist my words.ā
āThen say them properly,ā you snap. āIf you have something to sayāsay it.ā
Silence again.
You take a shaky breath. āI came here to try. I didnāt expect warmth, but I didnāt expect this. Being iced out. Ignored. Dodged like Iām the plague.ā
He turns to you fully now, voice clipped. āWould you prefer I fake it, then? Smile and ask you about your health like weāre old friends?ā
āGod, Iām not asking for that either!ā you burst. āIām justāI donāt knowābasic courtesy? The bare minimum? Something human?ā
āI am being human,ā he mutters. āIām staying out of your way.ā
āThatās notā!ā You drag your hand through your hair. āYou really think thatās what this is about? You hiding in your office is somehow a noble sacrifice?ā
āI didnāt want to come near you like this.ā His voice is low, almost too quiet. āCovered in blood. Smelling like war.ā
You blink, caught off guard. āWhy would that matter to you?ā
He exhales through his nose. āBecause you lookedāfragile.ā
āOh, so now Iām fragile and dramatic.ā
āThatās not what I said.ā
āItās what you meant.ā
He runs a hand over his face. āYouāre impossible.ā
āAnd youāre emotionally constipated!ā
You both freeze.
Then:
āWhat?ā he says, frowning.
You cross your arms. āYou shut down the moment anyone asks how you feel. You deflect, disappear, or grunt. I donāt even know if you like horses or not.ā
He stares. āWhy would you need to know if I like horses?ā
āThatāsā!ā You give a strangled laugh. āItās an example. gosh, youāre dense.ā
āYouāre the one storming into rooms unannounced and making everything personal.ā
āIt is personal! Weāre married!ā
āWeāre political allies.ā
Your expression falls. Just slightly. āIs that all you think I am?ā
He doesnāt answer.
And somehow, that silence says more than he could have with words.
You swallow, hurt threading through your voice now. āYou kissed me like you meant it.ā
That gets him. His jaw tenses. His gaze flickers.
You take a step back. āForget it. You know what? If you didnāt want this marriage, you couldāve said something before the wedding.ā
He finally speaks, low and frustrated. āDo you think I had a choice?ā
āNo,ā you whisper. āBut you do now. You have a choice now, to decide what kind of man youāre going to be to me.ā
He opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Opens it again.
But the words donāt come. Whatever he wants to say is buried too deep, rusted over with years of silence and swords and frost.
You shake your head.
āI donāt need you to love me, Shen Quanrui. I just need to know youāre not going to treat me like a ghost haunting your estate.ā
Still nothing.
You give him a last look, one filled with unsaid things.
Then you turn to the door.
Just as your hand touches the handle, he saysāsoft, almost bitter:
āIām not good at this.ā
You freeze.
A heartbeat passes. You turn your head slightly over your shoulder.
āThen learn,ā you say. āBecause Iām not going to live in this house as a stranger to my own husband.ā
You leave.
And this time, the echo of your footsteps is the only sound that follows.
CHAPTER 3: THE PAST CHASES
ITāS NOT LONG BEFORE you have to finally attend an official event, even when you havenāt fixed things internally with Quanrui.
After all, duty is duty.
The event in question was the Emperorās ball.
The ballroom glittered like something out of a dream ā gold-gilded ceilings arched high above the crowd, their domes painted with legends and forgotten wars. Chandeliers swayed ever so slightly from the summer breeze pushing in through the open balconies, the crystals catching and breaking the candlelight into a thousand scattered diamonds across the marble floor.
You arrived on Duke Shen Quanruiās arm.
His hand rested on yours, gloved and still, like you were porcelain. He looked every inch the Northern Duke ā tall, composed, and cold, dressed in midnight blue military formal with his Houseās sigil sewn in silver thread over his chest. People turned to look. Some whispered. Some bowed. None of them could tell that the space between your bodies ā though small ā felt like an entire frozen ocean.
You didnāt speak as the herald announced your names. You only felt Rickyās fingers tighten slightly around yours, a reflex, perhaps. Protection? Possession? Habit?
āSmile,ā he murmured under his breath, not looking at you.
You did.
Only because you knew how, not because you wanted to.
Every greeting was a performance. Nobles bowed. Countesses curtsied. A few dared to speak to you directly ā women with jeweled fans and sharp eyes, testing your worth as the new Duchess of the North.
āMy, youāre even lovelier than the rumors,ā one of them said sweetly, though her eyes flicked to your hand on Quanruiās arm. āAnd brave, too. Iād never have imagined the Duke of the North would ever settle down.ā
You smiled politely. Ricky said nothing.
You wanted to look at him. Just once. To catch any sign of how he felt being here with you ā under a thousand watchful eyes, with all the weight of expectations pressing down on your joined names.
Will he give you a look of regret? Of remorse?
But Ricky only led you through the room with practiced calm, nodding to diplomats and bowing to royals. The mask he wore never shifted. And each step made you wonder: Had he worn that same mask the day he agreed to marry you?
The music swelled, a waltz beginning from the musiciansā corner. People drifted to the dance floor in glittering pairs. You turned slightly, already planning to step back, to restā
But Ricky caught your wrist.
His fingers, bare now, wrapped around you with startling ease. Not forceful. Just⦠unwilling to let go.
āWeāre being watched,ā he said slowly, softlyāeyes fixed forward. āDance with me.ā
Your breath caught for a moment. Not because of the order ā but because of how close his voice was. Like it belonged to another version of him entirely. One who didnāt keep you at armās length.
You nodded.
He pulled you into a standard ballroom hold, one gloved hand pressed against your back, the other cradling your hand in his. You moved together through the slow tempo, your bodies never touching too closely ā just enough to make it convincing. Or maybe not. You couldnāt tell anymore what was real with him.
āYouāre tense,ā he muttered quietly, eyes not on you but just over your shoulder.
You met his gaze. āI wonder why.ā
A pause. A flicker of something behind his eyes. Regret? Annoyance?
Then he said, softly, āI didnāt want you humiliated tonight.ā
Your lips parted, surprised. āYou think showing up in silence with a stranger counts as not humiliating?ā
āIām not a stranger,ā he replied. āYou just donāt know me yet.ā
That made your throat tighten, bitter. āWhose fault is that?ā
Silence. But his grip on your hand tightened, just for a moment.
Then the room seemed to hush around you as he leaned in, not enough for anyone else to notice ā only you could hear what came next.
āDo you regret not marrying Kim Taerae?ā
The question cracked through you like thunder.
You nearly stumbled at the unexpected mention of your ex-fiance, and he steadied you instantly, hand tightening at your back. But his expression was unreadable ā calm, still, like he hadnāt just ripped open a wound you didnāt know was still bleeding.
Your voice, when it came, was quieter than you wanted. āThatās none of your concern.ā
āIsnāt it?ā he asked, still not looking at you.
The music ended before you could answer. He let go of you too quickly.
YOU RETREATED TO THE SIDELINES after that, needing air ā or distance, or maybe just space to remember who you were before all this. Before you belonged to someone who only looked at you when no one else was watching.
A noblewoman approached you soon after, feigning friendliness with every syllable.
āHis Grace rarely dances, you know,ā she said, eyes gleaming behind her fan. āNot even when the Crown Princess tried to tempt him, back when he first returned from the Northern Border. But he danced with you. Curious, no?ā
You didnāt reply. Because what could you say? That the dance had felt like a battle you didnāt agree to fight?
She took your silence as permission to lean in a little closer.
āThey say he watched you for years,ā she whispered. āLong before the Emperor suggested the match. Iād take that as a compliment. Or a warning.ā
Then she smiled, curtsied, and vanished into the crowd.
You stood there, frozen.
Watched you�
Had he?
You didnāt get the chance to ask, because another voice broke the peace of silence you almost had.
This time, one that was more familiar to you than youād care to admit.
āMy lady,ā the voice greets, a shadow falling on your shoulders.
You turnāand there he is. Kim Taerae; the man you almost married.
He bows, āIt seems that fate had other plans.ā
You want to focus on Taerae, but you canāt for a secondā because thatās when you saw him leaving the ballroom.
Not storming, not rushing. But purposeful. Like something had shaken him loose.
And just like that, Duke Shen Quanrui disappeared into the back corridor with another man. One youād never seen before ā taller, purple-haired, with a casual swagger that didnāt belong in a place like this.
THE CANDELIGHT OF THE BALLROOM hadnāt even faded from his shoulders when Ricky felt a firm grip tug at the back of his collar.
āRunning off already, Your Grace?ā came the voice ā smooth, smug, and unmistakably Western.
Ricky didnāt turn. āNot in the mood, Gunwook.ā
āOh, thatās obvious,ā the Duke of the West said, falling into step beside him, a hint of laughter in his voice. His violet-dyed hair caught the torchlight as he leaned sideways, dramatically peering into Rickyās face. āYou looked like you were ready to strangle someone on the dance floor. So naturally, I followed.ā
āI didnāt strangle anyone,ā Ricky muttered.
āNo. But you did look like you wanted to rip Kim Taeraeās arms off for touching your wife,ā Gunwook said brightly, as if discussing the weather. āWhich, I must say, is very unlike you. Should I be concerned?ā
Ricky halted in front of a heavy set of mahogany doors. āLeave it.ā
Gunwook only grinned wider. āOh no, Iām definitely not leaving it.ā
Before Ricky could protest, Gunwook swung the doors open and shoved him forward with a little too much force for it to be accidental. The scent of wine and citrus filled the room ā and lounging on the chaise, holding a goblet of golden liquor, was the last person Ricky wanted to see right now.
Emperor Zhanghao raised a brow. āWell. That took longer than I thought.ā
Ricky sighed, low and slow. āYou too?ā
Gunwook shut the door behind them with a click. āYes, both of us. Because someone needed to sit you down before you iced your entire marriage in front of half the nobility.ā
Zhanghao took a leisurely sip, then tilted his head at Ricky. āWas it the dress?ā
āā¦What?ā
āYour wifeās dress. Was it the reason you looked like your blood pressure doubled?ā He smiled ā infuriatingly calm, like he was enjoying a private joke. āI did approve the embroidery pattern myself, after all. Subtle House Shen motifs on a royal-cut train? Flattering, I know.ā
Ricky ran a hand over his face. āWhy am I here?ā
Gunwook threw himself dramatically onto a velvet seat. āBecause youāre losing your mind.ā
āBecause youāve been avoiding her since the wedding,ā Zhanghao added.
āBecause youāre too scared to admit you care,ā Gunwook said, kicking his legs up.
āBecause I ordered this marriage and I will not have it crumbling over your inability to flirt.ā
Ricky exhaled sharply. āI donāt need to flirt.ā
Zhanghao looked positively offended. āYou donāt want to. Thatās different.ā
āShe was talking to her ex,ā Ricky bit out.
There it was. The truth cracked free from between his teeth before he could stop it.
Gunwook let out a low whistle. āSo you were jealous.ā
āI wasnātāā Ricky started, but the look from both of them shut him down instantly.
Zhanghao stood slowly, setting down his goblet. He walked toward Ricky, stopping just short of reaching him. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter now. āYouāve watched her for years, Quanrui. Donāt insult her by pretending you didnāt.ā
Rickyās jaw clenched.
Gunwook added, āYou wanted this. She was supposed to be someone elseās, and you let it happen. Donāt pull the cold husband act now just because you donāt know what to do with her.ā
Zhanghao gave him a knowing look. āDo you even know what she looked like when you walked away after that dance? Do you think she didnāt notice?ā
āI was trying to protect her.ā
āFrom what?ā Gunwook asked, suddenly serious. āFrom being loved properly?ā
Ricky didnāt answer.
For a moment, all three of them were silent. The tension coiled thick in the air ā not malicious, but weighted. Heavy with truths left unsaid.
Then Zhanghao clapped him on the shoulder.
āGo find her,ā he said. āAnd for once, try wanting out loud.ā
Gunwook leaned back lazily. āTell her sheās beautiful. Ask her to dance again. Maybe even smile. You know ā things people do when they actually like their spouses.ā
Zhanghao smirked. āAnd if you donāt, Iāll have no choice but to assign her to Gunwook next.ā
āHey!ā Gunwook protested, grinning. āNot that Iād complain.ā
Ricky turned on his heel without another word ā but they caught the shift in his expression. The tightness of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
He was already walking back toward the ballroom.
He wasnāt running this time.
He was chasing.
YOU WERENāT SURE HOW LONG youād been standing by the colonnade when Taerae found you again.
The ballroom music pulsed behind you, but hereābeneath the stone arches overlooking the gardensāit was quiet. Breezy. Safer, maybe. Or maybe you were just tired of looking composed.
Taerae offered you a cup of wine you didnāt ask for.
You took it anyway.
āStill donāt like crowds?ā he asked lightly, leaning against the stone rail beside you.
You exhaled a laugh through your nose. āStill remember that?ā
āI remember a lot of things,ā he said. Then added, with a crooked smile, āEspecially about you.ā
You looked away first.
There was nothing inappropriate about the conversation. Not technically. Your voices stayed soft, your bodies politely distanced. But the history hung between you like an unfinished letter.
You spoke about nothing ā court events, the weather in Hwanghae, a minor scandal involving a duchess and an overeager poet. He made you laugh once, softly. It was strange, how easy it was to fall into old rhythms, like old furniture your body still remembered the shape of.
But then you shifted your stance and the heel of your shoe caught on a loose stone tile.
āAhā!ā
Your wine tilted dangerously, your balance thrownā
Taerae caught you.
A hand steadying your elbow, his other gently brushing your waist to keep you upright. His face was suddenly much closer than it had been a second agoāeyes wide with concern, breath caught halfway through a sentence.
āAre you alright?ā
You were. But you couldnāt answer.
Because in the very next moment, a shadow fell over both of you.
A voice ālow, cold, and dangerousā broke through the air like a blade.
āWhatās this?ā
You turned.
Ricky stood a few feet away, eyes trained on Taeraeās hand still on your waist.
His expression wasnāt angry. It was worse.
He looked calm. Carefully composed. The kind of quiet fury that didnāt raise its voice ā because it didnāt need to.
Taerae dropped his hands immediately and straightened. āDuke Shen,ā he greeted smoothly.
āCount Kim,ā Ricky returned, his tone polite but flat. āI wasnāt aware the South sent such⦠personal envoys tonight.ā
Taerae gave a thin smile. āOnly a brief conversation.ā
āWith my wife?ā Ricky asked, eyes narrowed.
It wasnāt a question. Not really.
You took a breath, stepping in. āHe was justāā
āI saw what he was just doing,ā Ricky said, eyes never leaving Taeraeās. āI assume the part where he touched you was also part of the conversation?ā
Silence.
Taerae raised a brow. āWould you rather I let her fall?ā
Ricky smiled. It was not kind.
āIād rather you remember sheās not yours to catch.ā
You could feel the tension slicing through the air like sharpened glass. The nobles in the ballroom hadnāt noticed yet ā but if this continued, they would. The Duke of the North and the Count of the South publicly trading barbed words over you was not exactly the kind of court entertainment you wanted to provide.
You turned toward Ricky, voice firm. āCan we talk? Alone?ā
He didnāt look away from Taerae right away. But eventually, he gave a stiff nod.
Taerae gave you a subtle glance before he bowedāto both of youāand walked away into the colonnade shadows.
You and Ricky stood in silence for a long moment.
Then you asked quietly, āWhy did you come back?ā
He looked at you like it was the stupidest question in the world.
āBecause you were gone. And so was I.ā
CHAPTER FOUR: A SWEET RENEWAL
The next morning, everything was⦠different.
Yet also the same.
You still woke in a room colder than youād like, in sheets warmer and twicefold heavier than youād use back in the East. You still had the same title, the same last name, the same view of snow-dusted stone terraces outside your window.
But something had shifted.
You saw it in the way Ricky hesitated in the doorway when he came to check on you. Not barging in. Not commanding. Just..lingering.
āI asked the staff to serve your breakfast upstairs,ā he said, eyes flicking briefly to the tray. āYou looked tired.ā
You nodded. āThank you.ā
He didnāt move.
You waited for him to leaveābut he didnāt. Instead, he stepped further into the room, hands behind his back, posture tense like he was preparing for a duel.
āDo youāā he cleared his throat. āDo you still feel⦠unwell?ā
You blinked. Heās checking in?
āNo fever,ā you reply quietly. āI just didnāt sleep well.ā
Ricky nodded once. āWould you like something for that? A draught, orā¦ā
His voice faded, unsure. He sounded like someone reading from a manual heād never opened before.
āItās alright,ā you said gently. āJust⦠stayāif youāre not too busy.ā
That caught him off guard.
āIāll stay,ā he said, almost too quickly.
He satāstiffly, of courseāin the armchair by the hearth. For a long while, neither of you spoke.
You ate quietly. The sound of the spoon tapping the bowl filled the silence between you.
Then, abruptly, he stood. Crossed the room. Pulled the blanket from the foot of your bedāand without meeting your gaze, carefully draped it around your shoulders.
āYour hands were cold,ā he said, almost like an apology. Like it was his fault your hands turned freezy and not the atmosphereās.
You looked down at them. They were. You hadnāt noticed.
āā¦Thank you,ā you murmured.
He nodded again, then walked back to the armchairāonly to stand again two seconds later. This time pacingāthen stopping halfway. Then crossing his arms like he wasnāt sure what to do with them.
āYou can sit,ā you said, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at your mouth.
He looked mildly offended. āI wasnāt going to leave.ā
āI didnāt say you were,ā you replied, tilting your head.
Another silence. This one, less heavy.
Finally, he muttered, āI donāt know what Iām doing.ā
You blinked. āPardon?ā
Ricky turned towards you fully, completely, for the first time that morning. His face was unreadable, but his voice was softer now. Almost⦠uncertain.
āIāve neverāā he paused. āābeen married. Or⦠or close to someone like this. I donāt want to make you uncomfortable.ā
You stared at him for a moment.
āIāve never been married either,ā you said, voice quieter than before. āSo weāre even.ā
His mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. But close.
You tucked the blanket around yourself tighter, fighting the absurd urge to laugh. āIs this our truce, then? A mutual agreement that weāre both bad at this?ā
āIām not bad at this,ā he said quickly. Then paused. āJust⦠inexperienced.ā
You couldnāt help it. The laugh slipped out.
Ricky blinked. Then tilted his head, like he hadnāt expected the sound of your laughter to be so⦠nice.?
āI didnāt mean that kind of inexperience,ā he said, voice flat.
That only made you laugh harder. He looked away, ears faintly pink at the tips.
A WEEK LATER, the sun filtered through the high windows of the gallery hall. Your steps echoed faintly as you walked beside himāslow and steady, more for your own comfort than anything else.
You werenāt used to walking beside him like this. As equals. At court, youād seen him from afar, always ahead of others, always silent. But here, his pace matched yours. Half a step behind, even. You donāt know why you noticed.
āI never liked this corridor,ā you said suddenly.
Ricky glanced sideways. āWhy?ā
You gestured loosely to the frozen statues that lined the walls. āItās cold. Pretentious. All these marble war heroes look like theyāve never lost anything.ā
He hummed, the sound low in his throat. āThatās because none of them wrote their own histories.ā
You raised a brow at him. āThat almost sounded wise.ā
āI do believe I have moments.ā He replied almost sassily.
A beat of quiet passed. Then he cleared his throat.
āI know you used to walk gardens in the East,ā he said. āDr. Seok told me you preferred sun to snow. I could have the north courtyard warmed. Have you seen it yet?ā
You blinked. āNo. I didnāt know it had plants.ā
āIt doesnāt,ā he admitted. āBut I can change that.ā
Your steps slowed.
He wasnāt looking at you, not directly. But his voice was earnest. Awkward, yes ā but unpolished in a way that made you believe it. Heād paid attention. Asked someone. Made a plan.
āIām used to the cold by now,ā you said finally. āBut⦠thank you.ā
He nodded once, as if that settled it. Like the moment was locked away in his memory.
You stopped before the tall stained-glass window near the arch, gazing out at the distant horizon where the snow met sky. The East always looked so green in your memory. Warm and humming and golden.
āYou must have hated the idea of marrying into the East,ā you said quietly. āWhen they first told you it was me.ā
Ricky turned to you. āI didnāt hate it.ā
āYou didnāt fight it, either.ā
āNo,ā he said. āBecause it was you.ā
You looked up sharply.
He met your eyes, steady now. āI didnāt want marriage. But if I had to belong to someone, I didnāt want it to be a complete stranger. And you werenāt.ā
Your breath caught.
He didnāt explain further. He didnāt need to. The truth sat between you ā clean, heavy, unmistakable.
Youād known each other in childhoodāalbeit not the nicest impressions. When you were children, you were forced to be besides each other at court dinners, though never quite close enough to matter. But he remembered. And apparently, so did you.
āI thought you didnāt remember those years,ā you murmured.
He glanced back toward the window. āI remember a lot more than you think.ā
THE SNOW WAS FALLING harder by nightfall.
You hadnāt meant to stay in the gallery that longābut the light through the stained glass was gentle, and for once, Rickyās presence wasnāt stifling. Just quiet. Thoughtful.
So you lingered. And maybe it cost you.
Because hours later, back in your chambers, the ache in your bones sharpened. The dull throb behind your eyes turned to a pounding. Your breaths came shallower. And the coldāgoodness, the coldāit settled under your skin like frostbite.
You didnāt notice the tears until they slipped down your cheeks.
Your hands were trembling too hard to ring the bell. You curled in on yourself at the edge of the bed, trying to breathe through the flare of pain in your stomach and the pressure climbing your chest.
The door slammed open a moment later.
Ricky.
He looked as if someone had told him youād collapsedāwhich, you realized vaguely, someone probably had.
His eyes swept over you, and for the first time since youād arrived in the North, the mask cracked.
āGet Dr. Seok,ā he snapped to the servant behind him. āNow!ā
He crossed the room in two long strides and knelt by your bedside. His hands hoveredānot touching, not yetālike he didnāt know where it hurt, and was terrified of making it worse.
You tried to speak. Couldnāt.
āHeyāhey, breathe,ā he said, voice lower now. Softer. āLook at me. Justādonāt cry. Please, donāt cry.ā
Your vision blurred. You hated crying in front of people. You especially hated that it was him seeing it.
āIām sorry,ā you whispered. āI didnāt mean toāā
āDonāt apologize,ā he said quickly. āYouāre not in trouble. Justāwhat do you need? Tell me what to do.ā
You didnāt know.
Thatās when Dr. Seok arrived.
Everything moved faster after thatācool hands on your forehead, medicine against your lips, Ricky following every instruction like his life depended on it. Like yours did.
āHer core temperatureās unstable,ā Seok said sharply. āThis always happens when she overexerts herself in winter. You knew she went out today?ā
Ricky looked stricken. āYes.ā
āBlankets. No more than three. And do not overheat the room.ā
āIāll do it,ā Ricky said instantly. āTell me what else.ā
And he did. For hours.
He helped you sit up to breathe easier. He ran the cloths under cold water himself when your fever spiked. He held you through the shaking when the cramps got worse, even though his arms were rigid and unsure.
Once, when he thought you were asleep, you heard him mutter:
āIf you die, Iāll never forgive you.ā
Thankfully, the worst of it passed just after midnight.
Dr. Seok left once your fever stabilized, though not without a long lecture about warm food, layered clothing, and letting your body recover. The servants, quiet and efficient, took away the basin and bloodied cloths. The fire was stoked one last time.
Then they were gone.
Leaving only you. And your husband.
The room was quiet save for the soft crackle of flames.
You shifted slightly beneath the blankets, your body sore and spent. You could feel the sweat clinging to your skin, but you didnāt have the strength to move. The cold no longer gnawed at you, but your head felt far too light, like it might float off your neck entirely.
You didnāt have to look up to know he was still there.
Ricky sat beside your bed, his chair pulled as close as it could go. One elbow rested on his knee. His eyes were trained on your hand, limp against the blanket.
You turned your palm upward. Just barely.
It was an invitation.
He took it.
Carefully, hesitantlyālike the gesture might break you all over againāRicky wrapped his fingers around yours. His grip was gentle, but firm. Anchoring.
āYouāre not⦠dizzy anymore?ā he asked, his voice low and hoarse.
āNot dizzy,ā you murmured. āJust⦠tired.ā
He nodded, but didnāt let go.
Another silence bloomed. But this one felt different. Not awkward. Not stiff. Just..quiet.
āI didnāt know what to do,ā he said after a while. āIāve read every war manual there is. Nothing in any of them prepares you for this.ā
You managed a weak smile. āYou did fine.ā
āYou cried,ā he said, and you heard something strange in his voice. Shame. Guilt.
āI was in pain.ā
āYou looked scared.ā
You were. But you didnāt want to say it out loud.
āIām used to it,ā you offered instead.
He shook his head once. āYou shouldnāt have to be.ā
The fire popped gently. A spark fell and disappeared.
Ricky leaned forward, resting his forehead against the back of your hand.
āJust tell me next time. Before it gets that bad. Iāll listen. I swear Iāll listen.ā
His voice was too raw, too close to breaking for you to do anything but squeeze his hand back.
You werenāt sure how long you stayed like thatāhis hand in yours, your breathing finally even, the weight of the night pressing soft and heavy against your skin.
Eventually, Ricky shifted in his seat. Not away from you. Just enough to lift his head.
āDoes it⦠happen often?ā he asked, voice quiet.
You blinked up at the ceiling, too tired to lie. āNot as often as it used to. But yes. Especially in the cold.ā
He nodded, as if logging it away. Then, after a pause:
āSince when?ā
You hesitated.
āI was fifteen when it started,ā you said finally. āThey thought it was just stress, or the court air. But it didnāt stop. Got worse every winter. Some summers, too.ā
He looked at you carefully. āIs it fromā¦?ā
āMy mother,ā you confirmed, before he could finish. āNot the current Mistress. My real mother, the Duchess. She died young. No one talks about it, but Iāve read her letters. She knew it would pass to me.ā
A long silence.
You werenāt sure why you kept talking. Maybe it was the warmth of his palm. Or maybe it was the way he hadnāt let go of your hand since Dr. Seok left.
āThey tried to hide it,ā you said softly. āSaid it would ruin my marriage prospects. That no one wanted a wife with..wellācomplications.ā
Rickyās jaw tensed, but he didnāt interrupt.
āI wasnāt supposed to tell you,ā you added. āMy father said it would give the North something to laugh about.ā
āI donāt find it funny,ā he said flatly.
āI know. Thatās why Iām telling you now.ā
His thumb brushed against the side of your hand. You looked at himāreally lookedāand saw something shift behind his eyes. Something heavy. Thoughtful.
āI wish youād told me earlier,ā he said after a moment. āSo I couldāve started worrying sooner.ā
That surprised a laugh out of you.
āIām serious,ā he added, softer now. āIām your husband. Even if Iām not good at it⦠I should at least be allowed to care.ā
The laughter faded. A different kind of quiet settled between you. Fragile. Real.
āThen I should tell you something else,ā you said, barely above a whisper.
He looked at you. Waited.
āThereās a chance I⦠might not be able to bear children. Or that it would be dangerous. Theyāre not sure yet.ā
He didnāt react right away. No anger. No disappointment. Just stillness.
You braced yourself for the worst.
Instead, he said calmly:
āThen we donāt.ā
You blinked. āWhat?ā
āWe donāt have children. Or we adopt. Or name an heir some other way. I donāt care.ā
You stared at him.
āI married you,ā he said, holding your gaze. āNot your bloodline. Not your womb. Just⦠you.ā
A knot that had lived quietly in your chest for years began to loosen.
āEveryone else seems to care,ā you murmured. āAbout heirs. About legacy. Aboutāā
āIām not everyone else.ā
He reached upāslowlyāand brushed a strand of hair from your cheek. His fingers were clumsy. Gentle. New.
āI donāt need a dynasty,ā he said. āI need a reason to come home.ā
You didnāt respond right away.
Because that lineā
You werenāt sure what unsettled you moreāthe gentleness of it, or the terrifying fact that you wanted to believe him.
So you did what you always did when things felt too close.
You looked away.
Pulled the blanket tighter.
And said softly, āIāve been feeling lonely here.ā
He blinked, clearly startled by the shift. But he didnāt push back.
Instead, he adjusted in his seat and asked, carefully, āWhat do you mean?ā
You stared at the flames in the hearth. āI donāt know anyone. The staff is kind, but formal. Thereās no one to talk to. Not really.ā
āYou talk to me.ā
A small laugh escaped your lipsānot mocking, but light. Tired.
āI talk at you, sometimes. Itās not the same.ā
He looked thoughtful. A shadow passed through his expressionāsomething like guilt, quickly swallowed.
āIām sorry,ā he said.
You turned your head to him. āWhy?ā
āFor being the kind of man who makes you feel alone, even when Iām in the room.ā
That silenced you.
Because you hadnāt expected him to get it.
You hadnāt expected him to say it out loud.
And now that he had, your throat tightened.
āI miss having someone who knows me,ā you said. āBefore all of this. Before the titles. Someone who doesnāt see a duchess, or an Eastern bride. Just me.ā
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he asked.
āHow can I help with that?ā
The question was simple. But it landed like a stone in still water.
You blinked. Your mouth parted slightly.
āCould Iā¦ā you hesitated. āCould I see my brother? Or Jiwoong? Just for a short visit.ā
He didnāt flinch. Didnāt look insulted or annoyed.
Instead, he nodded. āIf theyāre willing to come, Iāll have them escorted here safely. As soon as possible.ā
You let out a breath you hadnāt realized you were holding.
āYujin may be busy,ā you said softly. āHeās preparing for the inheritance rites this season. But Jiwoong will come if he can.ā
āThe Marquess?ā he asked, lips twitching faintly. āThe one with the sharp tongue and louder coats?ā
You smiled. āThe same.ā
āThen Iāll send a rider at dawn.ā
He said it like a promise. Like it was the easiest thing in the worldāto bring a piece of your home to you.
You felt the sting in your throat again.
But this time, it wasnāt from pain.
JIWOONG ARRIVED TWO DAYS LATER in the early afternoonādraped in a fur-lined cloak too extravagant for spring and dragging two terrified servants behind him with a box labeled āemergency tea collection.ā
āMy lady,ā he declared as he stepped into the tea room, arms wide and voice scandalously loud for Northern halls, āyou look positively faint. Has no one brewed you proper jasmine since you got here?ā
You didnāt realize how much youād missed him until you saw him.
You barely waited for the servant to bow before launching into his arms.
He caught you with ease, arms warm, cloak even warmer, his familiar cologne a small miracle in a house that smelled only of stone and snow.
āI thought youād be busy,ā you murmured against his shoulder.
Jiwoong pulled back, eyes gleaming. āPlease. For you? I nearly left in the middle of court. The Emperor said I was dramatic. I said I was loyal.ā
You laughed, guiding him to sit across from you as the staff brought in fresh porcelain and delicate finger food.
Ricky had arranged everything perfectly. Even down to the jasmine.
Jiwoong noticed.
āWell,ā he said, lifting the tea to his nose. āYour Northern Duke has taste. Or at least money.ā
You smiled without meaning to. āHeās⦠trying.ā
āOh?ā Jiwoongās brows rose. āThat was not your tone last time we talked.ā
You looked down at your cup. āItās complicated.ā
āI assumed it would be. You did marry a man who glares for sport.ā
You shot him a look.
He leaned in, resting his chin in his palm. āBut go on. What did he do? Save your life? Apologize with a bouquet? Cut off his own arm in penance?ā
āNo,ā you said, cheeks warming. āHe⦠stayed with me. When I was sick. Took care of me himself.ā
Jiwoong blinked. āAnd?ā
You frowned. āWhat do you mean, and?ā
āI meanāis that all it took?ā he said, mock-scandalized. ā[reader], I took care of you when you had a cold once and all I got was your brother threatening to exile me.ā
You rolled your eyes. āIt wasnāt like that.ā
āWasnāt it?ā
You were quiet for a beat.
Then: āHe held my hand. All night. He didnāt have to.ā
Jiwoongās teasing faded just slightly. He tilted his head, watching you.
āAnd how do you feel about him now?ā he asked.
You hesitated. Sipped your tea. Avoided his gaze.
āThat bad?ā he said gently.
āNo,ā you murmured. āNot bad.ā
He leaned back in his chair, smiling like a fox whoād already found the prize.
āWell,ā he said, lifting his cup to toast you. āIām not saying youāre in love, butā¦ā
You glanced up.
āYouāre closer than you think.ā
You looked away quickly, but something inside you jolted.
The words echoed as you sat there, tea warm in your hands, the scent of jasmine curling in the air.
You didnāt want to admit itānot even to yourselfābut maybe he was right.
Because lately, Rickyās name didnāt sound like frost anymore.
It tasted like warmth.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE CONFESSION THAT PROGRESSES IT ALL
The tea room was quieter now.
Jiwoongās echo still lived in the cushions ā in the jasmine-soaked air, in the slight smudge his rings left on the porcelain. His warmth, his chaos, his knowing gaze. It had all vanished the moment he walked out.
And yet, you sat there. Still.
Fingers curled around your teacup, now lukewarm.
You werenāt sure if you were savoring the moment or hiding from the one that would come next.
The hallway creaked softly.
Your gaze liftedāand there he was. Ricky, standing by the threshold. Not quite in, not quite out.
You hadnāt even heard him approach.
He didnāt speak. Just studied you in that quiet way of his, unreadable eyes drifting from your face to the abandoned tea set, then to the second cup still half full.
He stepped forward.
āI didnāt know you liked jasmine,ā he said at last.
You nodded. āItās my favorite. My motherāā You caught yourself, then finished softly, āShe used to bring it back from the eastern markets when I was a child.ā
He didnāt sit across from you. Instead, he circled around and picked up the second teacupāJiwoongās.
He sniffed it, eyes narrowing just slightly, then set it back down with care. āHeās bold. Your friend.ā
You smiled. āHeās loyal.ā
There was something unreadable in Rickyās posture. Not exactly tense. But not relaxed either.
āHe said something to you,ā Ricky said. āAfter I passed him on the stairs. I could tell.ā
You blinked. āYou were listening?ā
āNo,ā he said. āBut I noticed. Your face changed.ā
You looked down at your tea.
āHe said I seem to be falling for you,ā you admitted.
A pause.
You could feel itāthe silence between you stretching, winding tight like a pulled bowstring.
āAnd are you?ā he asked, apprehensive.
Your eyes flicked up to his.
But he wasnāt teasing. He wasnāt cold.
Just⦠there. Waiting. Open in a way he hadnāt been before.
āI donāt know,ā you said honestly. āI think Iām starting to want to.ā
His jaw moved slightly. Not clenchedājust thoughtful.
He reached across the table.
You froze.
But he didnāt touch your hand. Just the edge of your sleeve, brushing away a tiny tea stain.
You watched his fingers. Long, careful, slightly trembling.
āThank you,ā you said, barely audible.
āI didnāt do anything.ā
āYou stayed.ā
His hand paused.
You looked up againāand something in his gaze cracked, just for a second.
āIāll keep staying,ā he murmuredāa tender promise.
THE STUDY HAD GROWN WARMER since the first time youād entered it.
Back then, it felt like a war room ā all cold stone, iron candleholders, scrolls stacked like shields. Now, it breathed with a softer kind of stillness. A few fresh peonies sat in a shallow dish near the window, and the fireplace crackled steadily, offering golden light against the long table.
You sat at the far end, sleeves rolled just enough to write, a thick stack of estate ledgers and correspondence open before you.
He sat at the other.
You had both been working in silence for nearly an hour.
And yet⦠it wasnāt uncomfortable.
Rickyās head was bowed as he scanned one of the farming contracts from the outposts near the river. Every so often, his brow furrowed and he made a note in the margin. It was strange ā seeing a man who once held a sword with such command now holding a quill with equal focus.
And yet⦠fitting.
You have spent weeks beside him now. Not always talking. Sometimes just existing in the same space. And still, there were moments like this where you caught yourself watching him too long. Wondering who he was before he became a duke. Before duty shaped his shoulders.
āDid you always want this?ā you asked, softly.
He didnāt look up at first.
Then, slowly: āWhat. The estate?ā
You nodded.
He leaned back in his chair, quill lowered to the table.
āNo,ā he said. āI didnāt want any of this.ā
Your hands stilled on the page.
āI wanted to be a soldier. At first.ā His voice was steady, but something in it had dulled ā like a blade turned blunt from overuse. āWhen I was twelve, I begged my father to let me join the outer battalion. I thought it would make meāI donāt know, worthy? I thought⦠maybe if I was good enough at protecting something, heād stop looking at me like I was a burden.ā
You watched him. He didnāt meet your eyes.
āI trained harder than anyone. I was better than men twice my age by the time I was fifteen. But it didnāt matter. He still sent me away to fight battles that werenāt mine, just to get me out of his way.ā
āIs that where the scar on your shoulder came from?ā you asked quietly.
He glanced up, a flicker of surprise on his face. āYou noticed that?ā
āYou took off your coat once. Near the fire. I saw it.ā
He didnāt answer for a moment.
Then he nodded. āYes. First winter skirmish I led. I lost fourteen men that day. I was nearly the fifteenth.ā
You closed your ledger.
Something about his tone told you this wasnāt a story he shared often. Maybe never.
āI think,ā he said after a while, āI stopped feeling like a person back then. Everything was about surviving. Winning. Keeping the North strong. But I stopped knowing who I was outside of that.ā
Your voice came before you had time to think.
āYou were a child.ā
He looked up sharply.
āYou shouldnāt have had to carry all that alone,ā you said. āIt wasnāt fair.ā
His expression didnāt change. But his throat worked like he was swallowing something down.
āMaybe not,ā he said. āBut no one ever told me that before.ā
A silence settled between you. Not sharpājust soft. Like snow.
āI donāt think youāre cold,ā you said suddenly. āNot really.ā
His eyes met yours.
āI used to think you were. In the beginning,ā you admitted. āBut now I see itās not coldness. Itās⦠armor.ā
He didnāt speak. But something in his posture eased.
You hesitated, then added, āI think I understand it now. Loneliness doesnāt always feel loud. Sometimes it just makes you quiet.ā
His gaze dropped again. To your hands. Your ink-stained fingers.
āAnd you?ā he asked. āWere you lonely too?ā
You took a breath.
āYes,ā you said. āBut not in the same way.ā
You turned slightly in your seat, facing him more fully.
āI was never on the battlefield. But I spent most of my teenage years in bed. Sickness after sickness. Fevers that left me too weak to walk. My nurses tried to be kind, but I could hear their whispers. āPoor thing. Too fragile.āā
You folded your hands in your lap.
āEveryone thought Iād break if I did anything remotely taxing,ā you said. āSo they stopped letting me try.ā
He looked at you. Fully now. No armor.
āI always wanted to dance at court,ā you said with a weak smile. āBut my body wouldnāt let me. I wanted to ride, to fence, to run. But I couldnāt. So I read. I studied. I dreamed. And every time I got better, I fought harder to do just one more thing they were sure I couldnāt.ā
A beat passed.
āYou fought, too,ā he said, voice soft. āJust a different kind of war.ā
You looked at him. Really looked.
And something in you warmed.
āMaybe thatās why I admire you,ā you said. āYou didnāt give up. Even when it cost you parts of yourself.ā
His brows drew togetherālike he didnāt know what to do with praise.
But then he said, quietly, āThatās what I thought⦠about you.ā
You blinked. āMe?ā
āI never said it,ā he continued with a small nod, ābut I used to wonder how someone so often in pain could still look that composed in public. You wore silk and jewels twice your weight. You smiled, even when I knew you were cold.ā
He leaned forward slightly.
āI didnāt realize it then. But I see it now. You were fighting, too.ā
You felt your throat tighten.
āWhy are you telling me this now?ā you asked.
āBecause,ā he said, āI think Iāve started seeing you for who you are. Not just who I expected. Who I admired.ā
A pause.
āAnd I want you to see me, too.ā
Something in your chest cracked open.
Slowly, wordlessly, you reached across the table and placed your hand near his.
He didnāt move for a moment.
Then, inch by inch, he covered your hand with his.
No pressure. Just presence.
No one spoke.
But everything was said.
THE BEDROOM WAS QUIET except for the sound of the fire.
You lay on your side, facing him across the small stretch of space between you. He wasnāt under the covers yet ā just sitting at the edge of the bed, half in shadow, hands loose in his lap.
Youād gotten used to this⦠the way you occupied the same room now. How it wasnāt quite awkward anymore, but not entirely comfortable either. A strange, heavy peace. Something unnamed but not unwelcome.
He finally turned, pulling the blanket over his legs. You watched the way his jaw shifted as he settled beside you, still a little stiff, still unsure of how to be near you.
So you closed the gap.
Just a little.
Reached forward, fingers brushing his cheekbone.
He flinchedānot in fear, but in surprise. His eyes widened.
You kept your touch featherlight.
āYou always look like youāre bracing for battle,ā you whispered. āEven in bed.ā
His lips twitched. āHabit.ā
You let your palm rest gently against the side of his face. He didnāt pull away. His shoulders dropped a little ā and then a little more.
āDo I make you nervous?ā you teased.
He swallowed. āNot nervous. Justā¦ā
You waited.
He didnāt finish.
Instead, he leaned into your touch, eyes softening in that rare, unguarded way. The way he only looked at you when he thought you werenāt watching.
You opened your mouth.
And so did he.
āIāā
The fire popped sharply, a log splitting open with a loud, crackling burst.
You both froze.
The spell shattered.
You drew your hand back. He cleared his throat and turned onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. You mirrored him after a second, heartbeat loud in your ears.
Neither of you spoke.
But your fingers drifted slightly under the covers.
And when they found his⦠he let them stay.
THE GARDEN HAD CHANGED.
Where once frostbitten branches had hung bare and brittle, soft petals now danced in the wind ā blush peonies, pale narcissus, crocus in quiet bloom. The warmth enchantments worked better than expected, drawing life from the ground like it had been waiting all along.
You sat on the stone bench beneath the archway, fingers toying with the hem of your sleeve. The winter sun peeked through the glass ceiling, gentle and golden.
Behind you, footsteps echoed.
You turned just in time for a familiar figure to appear at the edge of the pathādark cloak, Eastern seal stitched at the collar.
Han Yujin.
Finally, after a long wait, your beloved brother was free from his duties and able to visit you.
Your brotherās smile was slow and fond as he approached. āSo this is the infamous Northern garden, hm? Looks more like a conservatory now.ā
You stood to greet him, letting him pull you into a tight hug.
āItās beautiful,ā you murmured. āHe had it warmed⦠for me.ā
Yujin glanced around, one brow raised. āDid he now?ā
You rolled your eyes, but didnāt deny it.
He walked a few steps ahead, crouching to brush his fingers along the base of a camellia bloom. āYou look better,ā he said softly. āLess pale. Still tired, though.ā
You smiled faintly. āItās been a long few weeks.ā
He nodded, then stood, folding his arms as he turned back to face you. āJiwoong told me a little. Said youāre adjusting. Slowly.ā
There was a pause.
You both knew what was coming.
āI justā¦ā Yujin tilted his head. āI want to ask you something.ā
You gestured for him to sit beside you.
He did.
And then: āWhat are you waiting for?ā
You blinked.
He didnāt look at you when he said itāeyes still on the garden, voice low.
āYouāre healing. Heās trying. Youāre no longer strangers. So why do you still look like youāre holding your breath every time someone mentions his name? You know we arenāt enemies anymore. The grudge is done and goneā
Your heart squeezed.
āIām notāā
āYou are,ā he said gently.
He turned to look at you now, gaze soft but unrelenting.
āWhat are you afraid of?ā
You inhaled, fingers curling slightly over your skirt.
āI donāt know.ā
āYou do.ā
You hesitated. Then admitted, āIām afraid⦠it wonāt last.ā
He nodded once.
āAnd if it doesnāt?ā he asked. āYouāll survive. You always have.ā
You closed your eyes for a moment.
Then, softly: āI think⦠Iām afraid that if I love him, and he doesnāt love me back⦠I wonāt know how to go back to being strong again.ā
Yujinās voice was quiet. āYou donāt have to be strong all the time.ā
You looked at him.
He smiled. āNot alone.ā
The wind shifted. A few petals scattered across the stone path.
āYouāve always been brave,ā he said. āEven when you were sick, even when Father made things harder than they had to be. You still stayed kind. You still stayed you.ā
He paused, then added:
āDonāt let fear of loss stop you from choosing love.ā
Gosh, when has your baby brother matured so much?
Your throat tightened.
You didnāt speak.
But your eyes drifted across the gardenātoward the doors that led back inside. Toward the room where Ricky might still be.
Waiting.
Just like you were.
YOU FOUND HIM in the sitting room, legs stretched out along the velvet couch, hair slightly mussed from what looked like a failed nap.
A book sat closed on his chest. His eyes, however, were openāas if heād sensed you coming before you even touched the doorknob.
Ricky didnāt sit up immediately.
He just blinked, and then said, āYouāre back.ā
You walked in. Quietly. Lightly.
āI didnāt leave for good,ā you said. āYou think Iād leave you alone with the estate documents?ā
He huffed a quiet sound ā somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. āI hoped.ā
You raised a brow. āAre you saying Iām bad company?ā
āIām saying you scold me more than Gyuvin, our steward, does.ā
You placed a hand over your chest in mock betrayal. āI scold you because I care.ā
That made him pause.
You didnāt mean for it to come out like that. But it hung in the air anyway, soft and glowing.
He sat up slowly. His shoulders looked less heavy than they did last week.
āDo you⦠want to sit?ā he asked, nodding to the space beside him.
You did.
The couch dipped as you curled your legs under you. Not too closeābut close enough that your knees brushed when you shifted.
āI talked to Yujin,ā you said. āHe says you look better fed than when we first saw you in the wedding hall.ā
āHeās not wrong.ā
You laughed. āHe also thinks you have no fashion sense.ā
Ricky tilted his head. āHe was wearing fur-lined shoes. Indoors.ā
You covered your mouth with your hand. āHe says theyāre Eastern couture.ā
āTheyāre ridiculous.ā
āDonāt say that in front of him. Heāll challenge you to a duel.ā
āIāve fought worse,ā he deadpanned.
That made you laugh. Bright and real.
And he laughed tooāquietly, but genuinely.
The sound lingered for a moment.
When it faded, you turned to him.
Your voice was soft. āI care about you, you know.ā
He blinked. Almost startled by how gently you said it.
āI didnāt expect to,ā you added. āBut I do. And I want to try.ā
He didnāt answer right away. Just looked at you.
Thenācarefullyāhe reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
āI want to try too,ā he said, voice barely more than a breath. āIf youāll have me.ā
Your heart stuttered.
But you smiled.
āGood,ā you whispered. āThen weāll start here.ā
And when you both laughed againāthis time softer, shyāit wasnāt just laughter.
I really like some of your writing, it really entertains me and fulfills my delusions!!!!!!!
So, because I like the way you write, I want to request 'Reactions of &Team members when they found out you were hit by a boy because you defended yourself from bullying' ? Do you think any of them would immediately retaliate against the boy who hit you?
I hope you can fulfill it, hehe š„¹
-š
&team reaction to someone hitting you
pairing boyfriend!&team x gn reader
warnings violence duhh, some slightly descriptive fight scenes, mention of blood and injury, cursing, kind of bittersweet, barely proofread so pls comment if thereās any mistakes
playlist danger - south arcade
note um hi guys so i donāt condone violence unprovoked, but if someone hits you and you can take them i think you should absolutely defend yourself. also, i changed the scenario a bit to fit each member, i hope thatās alright. enjoy!! (p.s. this has been sitting completely finished in my drafts for who knows how long im so sorry)
kei
your man is so protective of you, he notices something is off the moment you bump into this man by accident. you apologize, but the man looks enraged anyway, landing a sharp strike to your cheek. kei nearly explodes with rage, immediately landing several hard blows to the manās face and stomach. you have to physically pull him off of the man. kei only realizes heās gone too far when you cross your arms and sulk, walking several feet ahead of your boyfriend. he catches up to you and holds your shoulders in place, gently touching the wound on your face and muttering curses to himself.
āyudai, you canāt just fight people in public. plus, why would you beat him up like that?ā āserves him right. heās the one who layed hands on you first.ā
fuma
fuma is more than furious when someone dares to touch the love of his life. heās already on the man before you can blink, flipping him over and holding his arms behind his back, squeezing a bit too hard when the man struggles. tells you to call the police. he practically sits on top of the man until the police arrive, subtly looking you over to make sure youāre alright. he tries to encourage you to get checked out by the paramedics who arrive out of protocol, and then takes you back to the safety of your shared home. he also encourages you to talk about what happened in order to process it, but understands if you donāt want to talk or think about it. your sweet boyfriend gives you all the hugs and kisses you can ask for, just wanting to brighten your mood.
āletās watch television and take a nap, yeah? forget about all of that, angel.ā
nicholas
we all saw nicho in the samidare music video. the second this stranger puts hands on his baby, nicholas rolls up his sleeves and swings back. heās another one where you have to physically grab his arm to pull him away from the conflict, screaming at him and the man to stop all the violence. the second nicho snaps out of his adrenaline rush, his hands are all over you, examining you to make sure youāre alright. heās still so angry, but he understands you just want to go home at this point, so he complies. he lets you lean on him in the taxi, and runs you a hot bath when you get home, preparing dinner as well as an apology for solving violence with more violence.
āiām so sorry, sweetheart, i went too far. please forgive me?ā
euijoo
calm euijoo is gone the second the manās fist makes contact with your face. youāve been hit so hard youāre on the ground, so euijoo helps you up and scans you for any visible injury before turning around and slapping the guy who hit you. he curses quite a bit, a stark contrast to the gentle man you know. heās just so angry, he canāt believe there are actually people who believe in using violence to resolve problems, especially on people who donāt deserve it. after the guy leaves, finally realizing thereās not much he can do without starting a fight, juju is right by your side. he examines you again before taking you home, believing itās the only way he can keep you safe.
āiām so sorry that happened to you, angel. people can be so horrible.ā
yuma
yuma is confused and then immediately angry because you havenāt done anything but mouth off at someone who bumped into you, and suddenly thereās punches being thrown. he jumps in for sure and shoves the guy back a few times, getting in his face and yelling at him, because why in the world would he put hands on yumaās baby?! he does backoff if the guy tries to fight him too, though. thatās the last thing he needs when he should be making sure youāre safe. he feels so guilty for not being able to protect you, even though you assure him it was the angry dudeās fault, and probably even yours for opening your mouth. yuma assures you it was completely the guyās fault, however, since no amount of attitude warrants violence.
āyou did nothing wrong, honey. that bastardās the one who threw hands.ā
jo
jo does not like confrontation! the second the man hits you, he pulls you back, standing in front of you to protect you in case he attempts to hit you again. jo checks your face for any injuries before calling the police and letting them handle the guy. he may catch the guy and restrain him if he has to, only if the guy tries to run away. heās shaken up, so he can only imagine how youāre feeling right now. for that reason, after you report the man to the police, your boyfriend suggests going somewhere else and getting ice cream, or whatever other sweet treat you may prefer as a distraction. he also buys a cold pack for your face. sweet boy.
āhere, take this. itāll prevent swelling.ā āaw, jo, you didnāt have toā¦ā āplease, itās the least i can do after you got hurt under my watch.ā
harua
harua, although heās angry, does not hit back. the man is quite large in comparison to the both of you, so harua is smart about it. he opts to instead threaten the man with calling the police where heāll be arrested for assault. that, or he has to get on his knees and apologize to you. harua is a bit surprised when the man actually does get down and apologize, high off the power trip he feels. heās proud that heās been able to defend your honor without becoming violent and stooping to the manās level. of course, he checks in with you to make sure youāre alright physically and emotionally, as he understands this is a lot to process. when you say youāre alright, he just hugs you for a bit, shaken up at the thought of what could have happened if things ended worse.
ālet me just hold you, sweetie. iām so glad youāre okay.ā
taki
taki is concerned for you most of all, but also angry that someoneās tried to hurt you. he screams at the guy and lectures him (probably cusses him out too), definitely effectively scaring the guy off. from there he checks on you, grabbing your arm and scanning your body head to toe to make sure the guy hasnāt harmed you much. he suggests you get your face checked out because the man cracked the skin on your cheekbone a bit with his ring. taki is fuming for the whole rest of the day, and you end up having to sooth him lolz.
āi canāt believe that imbecile tried to hurt you.ā ātaki, that happened five hours ago.ā
maki
ohh the second the guy lays hands on you maki is yanking him away from you. from there, heād try to see if he can de-escalate the situation, but if thereās too much anger and emotion involved for the guy to stop, maki is ready to defend your. youāve seen his arms, we all know he can pack a punch. your sweet boy is gone, itās all angry maki. all you can do is stare in shock as maki shoves and hits your attacker. he knows not to go too far, however, and eventually just grabs your hand and runs away, leaving your attacker in shock and slightly injured. heās frustrated when you tell him the guy had been picking on you for a bit already. most of all, though, heās worried for you, and thatās where the frustration of you not telling him comes from.
ālove, you know you can tell me anything, right? you donāt have to hide things like this. i want to help you.ā
āį°.įā® On a quiet spring morning in 2015, a 13-year-old girl named Sofia arrives in South Korea ā alone, unfamiliar with the language, and completely out of place ā to train with a group of boys she's never met before. Itās her first day as a potential trainee with the soon-to-debut Seventeen, and her first step into a world that doesn't speak her name yet.
pairing: predebut seventeen x 14th member!oc
genre: soft angst, slice-of-life, found family, comfort, sofia doesnt speak korean, teenage boys svt, first meeting
word count: 2.9k
a/n: not sure if this will be just a one time story, but its been on my mind for so long since i started reading 14th member blogs on tumblr so i wrote it out for fun
The spring air was crisp. Thin, cold, and slightly wet ā the kind of chill that crept under your sleeves and clung to your skin.
Sofia stood in front of the large white building with PLEDIS ENTERTAINMENT stenciled across its glass doors, clutching her backpack tight in one hand and a half-wrapped onigiri in the other. Her dad stood beside her, hesitant, his hand hovering protectively near her shoulder.
āYou have my number,ā he said, voice low and calm like it always was when he was trying not to worry. āCall me if anything feels off. Anything at all, okay?ā
She nodded. Small. Quiet. The knot in her chest pulled tighter.
He didnāt want to leave her there. She knew. He was just following the plan, doing what theyād agreed on after her grandmotherās tearful insistence that āSofiaās meant for something bigger.ā
And so here she was ā 13 years old, Korean-French, raised in an English-speaking household, in a country whose language she didnāt understand, standing in front of the door to what could be a whole new life⦠or a very strange, uncomfortable chapter.
The door opened before she could think too much about it.
āHello! Sofia?ā a staff member stepped out, friendly-faced, Korean-accented English soft on the ears. āCome, come in. We show you around first, yes?ā
She nodded again. Her dad gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before she followed the staff inside, already missing the warmth of his presence behind her.
The studio was bright ā clean, modern, a little intimidating. It smelled like wood floors and sweat and energy drinks. Staff greeted her with kind smiles as they gave her a tour, explaining each room with a mixture of English and gestures. There were dance studios, recording booths, practice rooms, and far too many mirrors.
They asked her soft questions:
āWhere are you from?ā
āDo you like to sing or dance more?ā
āAre you nervous?ā (She nodded. Of course she was.)
She smiled politely, murmured small answers, tucked her hands behind her back like it would help hide how out of place she felt.
Then came the moment sheād been dreading.
āYou ready to meet the boys?ā
She didnāt answer. Just nodded again, too unsure to say anything else.
The staff opened the door to the main practice room and ushered her in. Laughter burst through the air like a firecracker.
Thirteen boys were scattered across the space ā some stretching, others dancing to random songs, a few play-fighting on the mats like overgrown puppies. They were loud. Comfortable. Messy in the way only teenage boys could be.
When the staff clapped their hands, the room fell into a strange, awkward hush.
Everyone looked at her.
āThis is Sofia,ā the staff introduced. āSheāll be training with you starting today.ā
She gave a polite bow. Her stomach twisted.
The boys shuffled forward, each offering their own shy bow, murmuring greetings in Korean she didnāt understand. Joshua and Vernon were the only ones who tried to speak to her in English ā brief, polite lines like āNice to meet youā and āHope you like it hereā ā but even they quickly retreated back into their familiar circles.
And just like that⦠she was alone again.
She stood in the corner of the room as the boys resumed dancing, laughing, jumping around to music. She watched them through the mirrors. Observed. Smiled to herself occasionally when someone slipped or broke into a ridiculous move. They were funny, even if she didnāt know what they were saying. They were kind of like a TV show with no subtitles.
At one point, a staff member encouraged her to join. She nodded ā always nodding ā and stood quietly at the back of the group as they messed around, copying the steps from a distance but never inserting herself in their circles.
Then lunch came.
And everything scattered.
The boys broke into small groups, heading for the nearest convenience store like it was their favorite hour of the day. Joshua and Vernon were already out the door with their own cliques before she could even think about asking to tag along.
She was left standing near her bag, unsure if she should follow.
She didnāt.
Instead, she sat back down in the corner, quietly pulled out the onigiri she and her dad had bought this morning. It was small. A snack, really. Not enough to fill her, but enough to keep her from crying out of hunger and sadness.
The room was empty now, but not fully. A group of five lingered behind ā Seungcheol, Jihoon, Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Wonwoo.
Seokmin was digging dramatically through his bag, yelling about how his wallet had disappeared and everyone needed to calm down because he was āsure itās here somewhere!ā The others laughed, complained, groaned theatrically.
But then⦠their voices quieted.
Because they noticed her. A tiny girl, alone, eating the smallest lunch in the corner of a room she didnāt belong in.
They exchanged glances. Wordless, unsure.
Seungkwan whispered something. Jihoon rubbed the back of his neck. Seungcheol furrowed his brows, clearly thinking hard. Wonwooās gaze lingered the longest.
After a beat of silenceā¦Ā āRock, paper, scissors,ā Seokmin suggested.
Wonwoo lost.
He protested. Something about a rematch, and āyou guys are better at English!ā but in the end, they all just pointed at him until he sighed and stepped forward.
The others trailed behind, like backup dancers in a very awkward mission.
Wonwoo stopped a little in front of her and cratched his head.
āYou⦠us⦠lunch?ā he said. āTogether. Store. 7-Eleven.ā
He made vague hand gestures between her and the door, nodding his head toward the hallway.
It was clumsy, ridiculous even. But she understood. So she nodded, a shy, grateful nod ā the kind you make when you want to cry, but youāre too busy being relieved.
The walk to the store wasnāt magical. It was messy and loud ā Seokmin and Seungkwan were screaming at each other in exaggerated tones, Seungcheol and Jihoon occasionally chiming in with laughter.
Sofia stayed at the back, not close enough to talk to them but not alone either.
And Wonwoo stayed close to her.
He didnāt speak much ā didnāt know what to say ā but he slowed his steps until they matched hers. Stayed near her without making it weird. Just there. Quiet. Present.
At one point, he glanced at her and said, āFirst⦠time? Korea?ā
His accent was heavy, the sentence a little awkward, but the question was clear.
She nodded. He smiled, soft and a little proud of himself. āOkay,ā he said.
Just that and in that moment, it was enough. It was still her first day. Still lonely. Still terrifying. But she wasnāt completely alone anymore. Not really.
The store glowed with bright fluorescent lights, its automatic door hissing as it slid open to welcome them in. The cold spring air was quickly replaced by the warm scent of instant ramen and fresh bread, the soft hum of a refrigerator and the quiet beep of a microwave heating someone's lunch. The moment they entered, the group scattered ā a flurry of teenage energy eager to devour their hour of freedom.
Seokmin and Seungkwan immediately darted for the snack aisle, arguing over which flavor of chips was superior.
āLoser pays!ā Seungkwan shouted, already grabbing a basket.
āOkay, but youāre the loser!ā Seokmin yelled back with his usual sunshine grin.
Somewhere in between them, Jihoon groaned, shaking his head while reaching for a triangular kimbap. Seungcheol muttered something about ānot this againā before being dragged into their mess anyway.
They were loud. Messy. Laughing and complaining about prices, tossing snacks into each otherās baskets when they werenāt looking. One of them ā Jihoon, maybe ā tried to trick Seungkwan into scanning an extra chocolate milk.
Meanwhile, Sofia stood just past the entrance, clutching her small wallet, unsure where to even begin.
But she wasnāt alone.
Wonwoo hadnāt left her side since they walked out of the building. He didnāt say much ā he hadnāt from the start ā but he lingered beside her with a quiet kind of attentiveness, like heād made a silent decision to stay until she found her footing.
He looked at her now, then gently pointed toward one of the aisles. āCome,ā he said simply.
She followed.
They walked slowly through the convenience store, Wonwoo leading with a sort of quiet grace ā like someone used to moving without taking up too much space. He stopped occasionally to point at things he liked, using awkward hand gestures and short, simple phrases.
āThis, yum yum.ā He held up a microwavable pasta bowl and gave a firm thumbs up.
āThis,ā he said again, pointing to a peach drink, āNice. Good. Try?ā
Sofia giggled softly at his effort, nodding back. It was awkward. Stilted. But there was a kindness in his gestures that spoke louder than any word.
He watched her study the food options, patient. He didnāt rush her, didnāt move on when she paused too long. Even when she stared blankly at the cash in her wallet, overwhelmed by the number of zeroes on the unfamiliar bills, he stepped in.
āNo,ā he murmured gently, taking the wrong note from her hand and replacing it with the right one. āThis one. Okay.ā
He showed her the coins too, explained with his fingers which was a hundred and which was ten. She didnāt fully understand, but his steady nods helped her through.
At the counter, he stood beside her, letting her do it herself but never straying far. When she gave the cashier the right amount and received her change, he gave her the tiniest smile ā a proud one.
āYou good,ā he said. Not Youāre good. Just You good. But she understood what he meant.
Once they stepped outside, the others were already huddled at a small round table meant for two, balancing their lunches and bodies in an absolute circus of limbs.
Seokmin was sitting squarely on Seungkwanās lap, insisting, āMy ramen needs to be on the table!ā while Seungkwan shouted, āYou need to be off me!ā
Seungcheol stood over them, eating rice balls while laughing at the chaos. Jihoon had somehow managed to squeeze into the only real chair and was refusing to give it up no matter how much they teased him.
They were a mess. But a warm one. A kind of chaotic harmony that came from knowing each other inside out.
Wonwoo didnāt hesitate. He led Sofia toward them, nodding once when she looked unsure.
The moment they reached the group, Seungcheol shifted aside without a word, making just enough space for her to sit on the edge of the chair beside Jihoon. The others didnāt say much ā just offered brief smiles, small nudges of welcome.
She sat, carefully placing her food down. Her hands trembled just slightly, but she tried to hide it.
Wonwoo settled next to her, kneeling casually on the ground, tearing open a packet of kimchi with one hand and reaching for his chopsticks with the other. He didnāt say anything, didnāt need to. But he stayed.
Sofia took a deep breath. Her ramen was too hot. The wind was too cold. Her fingers felt numb, and her heart still beat with the quiet ache of homesickness. But she was here with them.
She ate quietly, listening to their laughter, watching the way they bickered over who bought what and who owed who next. She didnāt understand a single word. But she laughed anyway, just a little, when Seungkwan dropped a fish cake and Seokmin yelled āFoul!ā like they were playing a sport.
She didnāt belong yet, not fully. But maybe⦠she could and for now, that was enough.
Wonwoo glanced over at her mid-bite, eyes soft, and offered a quiet thumbs up. She returned it. A little slower, a little awkward but with a smile and somewhere inside, something warm began to bloom.
The sun had already dipped beneath the skyline when practice ended.
Inside the studio, the air was thick with the scent of sweat, rubber soles, and half-drank bottles of sports drinks. The room buzzed faintly with the low hum of the Bluetooth speaker that hadnāt been turned off, playing a lo-fi track that no one was really listening to anymore.
Sofia stood near the corner where sheād left her bag hours ago, legs aching from trying to keep up with choreography she didnāt know, arms sore from a full day of unfamiliar movement. The soft cotton of her sweatshirt clung damply to her back, and her hair was pulled messily into a low ponytail.
But her eyes were bright. Tired⦠but bright.
The boys were slowly packing up, tossing towels over their shoulders, teasing each other over missed steps and misheard instructions. Seungcheol playfully scolded Seokmin for nearly kicking someone during a freestyle segment. Vernon was laughing over a clip he filmed on his phone while Joshua gathered everyoneās forgotten water bottles.
One by one, they trickled out ā in twos, in threes ā splitting off to catch their buses, walk to their dorms, or grab late-night snacks before heading home. Each of them offered her a small nod or smile before they left, not quite friendship yet⦠but something like acceptance.
The staff waved goodbye with warm smiles as they shut off the lights and locked the doors behind them.
"See you tomorrow, Sofia!" one of them called. "You did well today. Rest, okay?"
She bowed politely, whispered a soft thank you in English. She stood outside the building now, just beyond the glass entrance, holding her phone tightly with the screen still lit up:
Papa, Iām done. You can come now. Iāll wait here. Sent 12 minutes ago.
She sat down on the concrete edge of the entrance, resting her arms on her knees, chin tucked between them. The street was quiet this late. The occasional car passed by with a soft rumble, but mostly, it was still. The kind of stillness that made you aware of how far you were from everything familiar.
She missed her cat. She missed her bed. She missed knowing how to say anything without second-guessing herself. But she didnāt cry. Not this time.
Because she wasnāt alone.
Wonwoo sat beside her, quiet as ever, his backpack resting against his shins. He hadnāt left after practice ā hadnāt even looked like he intended to. He just⦠stayed. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Sofia glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His head was tilted slightly back, resting against the glass, eyes closed like he was listening to something only he could hear.
The glow from the streetlamp made the edges of his hair look gold.
Then, without opening his eyes, he spoke. "Todayā¦" He paused, searched for the right words. "...okay?"
Sofia blinked. It took her a second to realize he was talking to her. She turned to face him fully. āHuh?ā
Wonwoo opened one eye, then gestured vaguely with his hand, mimicking a small dance move. āDance. Practice. You. Today⦠okay?ā
She smiled a little. Tired, but genuine. āā¦It was hard,ā she admitted, softly. āBut⦠not bad.ā
Wonwoo nodded. He didnāt seem to understand all of it, but he caught the tone. He mimicked her smile, even if his was the quiet kind that barely curved his lips.
A pause.
Then, with all the hesitation in the world, he added, āYou⦠strong.ā
Sofia laughed quietly ā the kind that surprised even her. āThank you.ā
Another beat of silence passed. "You..." he said again, his brows furrowing slightly. "Miss... home?"
She didnāt answer right away. Just looked up at the stars that were barely visible through the haze of the city lights. āā¦Yeah.ā
Wonwoo nodded again, as if he understood more than he let on. He didnāt say anything else. He didnāt need to. Sometimes, sitting beside someone who chooses to stay is more comforting than all the words in the world.
Soon, a familiar figure turned the corner and slowed to a stop in front of them. Her father, looking tired but relieved, scanning the street until his eyes landed on her.
āThere you are,ā he said with a warm smile. āIāve been circling the block.ā
Sofia stood, brushing the dust from her jeans. Her dad looked to her side ā to the quiet boy who stood up beside her, bowing deeply in respect.
Wonwoo didnāt speak.
But he offered Sofiaās dad a small wave and waited until he saw the two of them head off in the right direction. He walked them to the edge of the street, where he gestured them toward the nearest subway entrance, already checking his phone for train times.
Sofia turned around once as they started to descend the steps.
Wonwoo was still there.
He gave her a small nod.
She returned it, her fingers curling around the strap of her backpack, heart warm in a way she hadnāt expected when the day began. They didnāt say goodbye, they didnāt need to.
That night, as Sofia lay in the small hotel bed beside her dad, staring up at the ceiling, her limbs aching and her mind buzzing, she thought about the quiet boy with the soft eyes and broken English.
She wasnāt sure what tomorrow would bring.
But she knew one thing. She didnāt feel so alone anymore and that ā for now ā was more than enough.
PARK SEONGHWA is a certified gentlemen through and through , and it shows on the extreme on lavish dates , where you both dress in the code of extravagant . utterly entranced by your beautiful appearance and confident presence , he plays his part to princely perfection ; taking your hand in his gently and laying a kiss on your knuckles like he was born from a fairytale . when his lips meet your knuckles , the sensation is soft and sweet , like the fragrance of red roses
KIM HONGJOONG , the observant leader and lover he is , senses your nerves in his seat next to you without even having to look . like a habit , he lifts your intertwined hands up slightly so he can lean his down to place gentle pecks on your fingers . with his bangs covering his facial features , his gentle expression is blocked off from the world , including your own attentive eyes , but you felt the emotions he was trying his best to give to you from his lips alone ; comfort and reassurance to ease your anxious mind
JEONG YUNHO's antics never fails to leave you in bliss . his boisterous personality made for many memorable moments in your relationship that you loved to tell other with pride . but the more silent moments , where you both are cuddled up in the warmth of thick bedding are kept for yourself. gentle lips pressing light pecks on your fingertips , sun-kissed and winsome , to help your sense come too as you wake up from a sweet slumber , his husky morning voice sending shivers down your spine to remind you that this is indeed real . yeah , you'll keep these domestic moments close to yourself
KANG YEOSANG is rather shy when it comes to physical affection . his introverted and quiet demeanor often holds him back from making the first move . so he settled for quiet and meaningful hand kisses . gentle pecks along your knuckles , fingers , and ( if he was feeling particularly bold ) fingertips . he thinks , and really hopes , that you haven't noticed his silent displays of affection , especially since you never said anything about it , but you have . you've noticed on the first day he did it and choose to keep silent on it
CHOI SAN watches you with lovesick eyes as you ramble on about a recent interest of yours . your animated gestures held him in what could only be described as a blind reverie , but he wasn't blind . all your sentences were etching themselves into his brain like a tattoo . in an tranced daze , he took your flailing hands in his bigger ones , stopping every thought that was coming and escaping your mind as he pressed kisses , infatuated but tender , on the tips of your fingers . he's down so bad and is proud
SONG MINGI has the personality of a spoiled princess stuck in a body of lean muscle , always craving for your attention , and this shows greatly when he's working on his laptop and you asleep on his lap . with his mind stuck in a writer's block , he has to resist the urge to wake you up just for you to attack him with a flurry of affection . instead , he chooses to reach for your limp hand to intertwine it with his , giggling under his breath at the size difference before leaving numerous sweet and soft pecks on the back of your hand , trying not ( but lowkey highkey hoping ) to accidentally awaken you to gain your loving
JUNG WOOYOUNG , the ever so dramatic , will drop to his knees and proclaim his everlasting love for you like he's auditioning for a shakespeare play . an unscripted speech filled with old fashioned words and chuckles that leaves you flustered and a giggling mess , bringing your formerly somber mood into that of positivity . his theatrics will tone down once he sees your smile and leaves a big yet sweet smooch on the back of your palm , finalizing his ridiculous speech in both dramatic flare and unapologetic admiration
CHOI JONGHO held you tightly in his big arms as you cried , letting out your tearful frustrations . in the midst of his wordless comfort , with his own unshed tears , he took your balled fist that was on his chest up to his lips . a shiver that more comforting than you expected went down your spine at the trembling yet sorrowful pecks along your knuckles and the back of your hand that were desperately trying to tell you the words in his heart that he struggled to speak out . and even with your heart in turmoil and mind breaking apart , you heard every single word
hee is a fantastic listener, both in a musical and literal sense. when heās getting ready to listen to you ramble about something, he always leans back and readjusts himself while maintaining eye contact JSLDJSIDJWEKSD. at first, it was definitely unintentional, but once he clocks it? DUDEEE IS HE TAKING ADVANTAGE OF IT. gets off on the fact that heās dong so little but youāre still fumbling your words in front of him <3.
another big one is having his hands on you at all times! if his hand isn't intertwined with yours while you guys are walking, then itās having a hand on your lower back to he can guide you and decide where youāre walking. OH OH or if you guys are like trying to move through a large crowd, heād 100000983598340% go first and hold your hand in firmly in his. alternatively, he might also make you walk infront of him and place a hand on your shoulder siGHHH.
last but not least, having you on his lap while games. regardless of your height, this man wants you there till his legs go numb. not much to add tbh. to him, itās all about the mundane things, things that only you two share and that no one else can reproduce. he thrives off of knowing you and your little quirks like non on else does, and is ready to do everything so that he can seep that smile on your face~
ā Ėā⧠ଳ JAY
mr. park jongseong. the first thought that popped into my head when writing this was the whole āwho pays on datesā debates. now, i whole heartedly believe jay is a feminist, BUTTTT there is no way on godās green earth youāre ever paying for anything while you guys are out together. he gives me strong āi care for whatās mineā vibes, and that extends to finances, regardless of how well off you may be. jay covers the bill everytime, and happily so. there is absolutely NO room for arguments. if you even move your hand towards your phone and wallet heāll sternly say ānoā, without even looking at you. if you try and pull the āiām gonna use the bathroomā trick, heāll raise a brow (you know exactly which look iām talking about) and either walk you there or ask you to put down your wallet and phone first. no, means, NO. even if heās abroad, heāll order food for you to arrive perfectly for your time zone so you can eat your meals warm:( genuinely gets offended and pouty if you pay for anything while you guys are out together. he loves sharing this wealth with you, itās his way of showing you heās dependable and able to take care of you.
jay has stated that heās a bit embarrassed to speak english at times (which wtf bby pls just yap we all wanna hear it), but without a second of hesitation this man is ready to speak in any and all languages if it means standing up for your if you need his help. even if itās something minor like the waiter getting your order wrong, his embarrassment be damned, youāre getting your food spicy!
another thing is how much of a gentlemen he is?? usain bolting to open doors for you. both regard doors and car doors! before you can even twitch your finger to touch a handle heās already out and ready! expect a lecture if you donāt sit/stand patiently while he spoils you. LOVES having you depend on him. it just itches his brain the right way idk.
last but not least, since you said āyesā, this manās hand has virtually not left your thigh. it's partially to assure himself that you are safe, but also just takes genuine comfort in having you close to him. also a silent warning to anyone who has the audacity to look at you.
i think jay is a born provider, and he takes pride in being able to perform that roll well! loves it when you let him. he knows you donāt need it, but the fact that you let him take control is such a turn on <3
ā Ėā⧠ଳ JAKE
jake is your resident flirt, dude even has the typical frat boy name. but with every interaction between you two, itās clear how much pride he takes in being your s/o.
he knowns how attractive you are and part of him canāt help but want to show you off, whilst also showing youāre his. heās pretty easy going, never stricts what you wear, who you talk to, nothing like that. however, expect him to put a hand on your thigh whenever he pleases. or better yet, expect him to tap his thigh to get you to sit on his lap. especially if youāre taller/close to him in height, it would reassure him that heās still got you wrapped around his fingers~. around new people, best believe he will be holding your hand, thumb working over time sooth any nerves you might have. around people he knows, like the members or his friends, expect to still not be off the hook; jake will have an arm around your shoulder when you hangout with other people, and seeing you lean into him would gas him up so bad. jake would only ever introduces you asĀ āmy s/oā,Ā āmy loveā,Ā etc. you are his after all, no?
OHHHH another thing is how he fixes up your clothes before you leave the house! or, how he wipes off your lipstick with his thumb, kisses you, and asks you to pick another shade that, in his humble opinion would go much better with your outfit/complexion. if you listen, it would be on his mind for WEEKS. internally giggling and kicking his feet. on the topic of outfits, he would fix your shirt/bra strap if itās falling. this isnāt so much an attempt to fluster you, more something heād just do to āprotect youā, as he puts it.
last but not least, eye contact. jake is the type of guy to grab your chin and tell you to look him in the eye while talking. thrives off of your flustered expression~.
overall, though heās definitely got that flirty streak in him, i think he genuinely just loves taking care of you. he loves you so much, seeing you depend on him and get all flustered just feeds his ego, but heād be willing to do all this regardless~.
ā Ėā⧠ଳ SUNGHOON
sunghoon is surprisingly self-aware of this stuff. at first, his intention wasnāt to fluster you, but he definitely did ramp things up once he realized youāre into it~. with him, itās small acts; readjust your clothing, fixing your collar, holding your coat for you and gently brushing your hair back into place if it gets stuck, pulling your chair out, wrapping a scarf around your neck, very mundane things heād do for you anyways. there, it was easy to blame the frosty winds for your flushed cheeks, but when he hold your hand as you cross the street, and pulls you back when you forget to look left and right, and your reaction is to stare at him wide eyed, cheeks pink, boy oh boy does he take advantage of it.
expect him to not let go of your hand from now on, thumb running over the back of your hand, whether youāre walking or sitting. or better yet, heāll grab your arm and hold you by the wrist instead of your hand. if you try and let go, heāll tighten his grip until you tell him where youāre going (not in a weird way, just so you donāt get lost in crowds and such). mr. clean freak would also clean dirt of your face softly with a handkerchief he always seems to carry with him.
people often say he isnāt very express, but i think if you pay close attention to him, it so obvious when he cares for someone and how heās feeling. to him, heās able to make sure youāre okay in his own way, and seeing you get so flustered is incredibly fun to him. itās his way of reminding you that, despite his often unassuming exterior, he puts care into every interaction with you:((
ā Ėā⧠ଳ SUNOO
iāve mentioned this before in my sunos f2l headcanons, but i truly believe enhablr misrepresents sunoo. or rather, ignores his more proactive side. sunoo is cute, but donāt let those squishy cheeks fool you, he can and will take charge.
i donāt think itād be intentional at first; brushing hair out of your face for you, putting it in different styles (eg. attempts braiding it if you're too tired), or just plainly fixing it into place. this extends to your clothing as well: tying, zipping, lacing something for you, be it your shoes, your jacket, or a dress, this man has you covered! once he realises how red you get, heād tease you relentlessly~. eventhough heās a younger brother, he just loves taking care of others naturally. this applies to doing your skincare, giving you a bedtime (lmao), and even answering questions meant for you. he likes that, for once, he gets to make decisions and be taken seriously. the fact that you get all blushy is just an added bonus~.
something else i can see him doing is placing a hand on your lower back to remind you to fix your posture. gives you a stern look and will scold you if you complain! he likes how, despite whining and pouting, you listen. unfortunately, people donāt always take him seriously. heās mentioned on a live before how he wants to stop doing as much aegyo and āgraduateā from that identity, so seeing you listen to him and rely on him would make him feel seen and cherished. the fact that you respect him and take him seriously would unlock something in him for sure.
ā Ėā⧠ଳ JUNGWON
jungown is still pretty young but has been the leader to a group of 6 other people since he was 16 years old. so while i do think his acts would be much more subtle, theyāe definitely there if you look carefully!! the most obvious one would be how he asks you to send him food pics. gets upset when you refuse because it means you didnāt eat:( of course if heād never force you, but it would make him worry. even if itās just a cup of tea for breakfast he wants to know youāre taken care of, since he canāt always be there to do it himself:( itās his way of watching over you even when he's not around (also lowkey reminds him he needs to eat as well, but you didnāt hear that from me LOL). if youāre talking to someone heāll make his presence known without explicitly mentioning, āhey, thatās my partnerā. just by the way he carries himself, everyone around you both knows and boy does it get you~.
an exmaple of the more subtle things heād do would be how he opens things for you. well, duh, ofc you can open a water bottle but like⦠boom, heās already done it for you. if you blinked you wouldnāt have caught it~. also does this thing where he grips your waist as he walks past you, or holds on to your wait while youāre walking down a step you both encounter on the street. would also zip up your bag or tighten your hair tie if it gets loose.
for jungwon, because of how young he is, i donāt think heās super āpossessiveā quite yet. many seem to believe the doesnāt give off the ānatural leaderā vibe, but i think if anything, thatās pushed him to work harder. itās clear he cares for and knowns his members well, and heās more than capable of taking charge. and the extends to you as well! he cares for you deeply and, despite having the burden of being a leader tied onto his back, heād still take an immense amount of pride in seeing you get flustered or shy when he does handle things for you. he also just wants to take every opportunity to remind you of his love towards you <33
ā Ėā⧠ଳ RIKI
oh riki, the lover boy you areā¦. riki loves silently and owns the non-sexual dominance title imo~. if you watch enha content closely youāll see he does it all the time! he pays attention to the little things so much, especially in regard to his members, (eg. putting a pillow behind their back, opening bottles for them, remembering their dietary habits, etc). if you guys have access to their hulu japan series i highly recommend watching it, there's a ton of cute moments like that in there!
but back to you;) itās not often that riki chooses to be confrontational, both from a cultural standpoint and in terms of his personality, i donāt see him picking unnecessary fights. but when it comes to you, heāll always speak up and defend you! sure, youāre an adult and he really does trust you to take care of yourself, but its more about the principle? say, someone accuses you of something, heād jump to your defence with āy/n would never do that, theyāre not that kind of personā. even if you donāt need him to he canāt help but want to do it. if you really convince him he doesnāt need to speak up for you in a certain situation, heād still have an hand on your knee or his hand on yours, just to reassure you that heās still there should you need him <3
riki would love picking outfits and accessories for you!!!! he likes it when you pick out his too, but when he gets to decide about what youāre wearing? his heart does a thing⦠itās like, even if youāre miles apart across the globe, youāre out there wearing things he chose for you. itās his silent mark of love on you. youād easily be able to tell when he misses you by the frequency of ādo you know what youāre wearing this week? let me pick it outā texts. ofc heād never admit to all that LOL. āitās not my fault your fashion taste sucks, one of us has to carry the fits and itās definitely not you. if anything you should be thankful iām helping!ā, emo tsuntsun alert!
in general, riki is a silent lover. itās okay to tease him every once in a while, but donāt call him out too much. just silently appreciate that he goes out of his way and consistently thinks about you and your comfort <333
nana's notes : two exams left + a group project so i might be a little mia for the next ~2 weeks, but i still have some content to put out:')) sighhh who told me to study physics, right~? thereās an appalling amount of grammar and spelling mistakes in here (probably lol). this is honestly just an accumulation of notes i've taken while consuming enha content so it's a litttle disorganized, i think you can tell by the flow (or lack there of) hehehe. nevertheless, i hope you all enjoy it:)) as always, i'm excited to hear your thoughts!