marley

27, they/them 18+ minors dni/dnf requests: open

[sevngmin148]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Navigation *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

new blog after not being active on tumblr for a few years!

Minors pls DNI/DNF

Requests: open!

Not cross-posted - please do not repost anywhere!

all work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only.

Who I'll write for:

bgs: stray kids, ateez, seventeen

ggs: twice, (g)-idle, itzy

What I’ll write:

fluff, angst, reactions, mlt, (occasionally) smut. pretty open to ideas so feel free to send a request!

stray kids masterlist

seventeen masterlist

ateez masterlist (coming soon)

others (coming soon)

check my “recommendation” tag for recs from other writers!

[sevngmin148]

i desperately need more omegaverse stray kids fics

[doitforbangchan]

All Bark and No Bite 05

We're finally getting into some drama in this one (Yes i know it took forever) please enjoy!

Masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Series Warnings: Fem reader, Smut, verryyyy nsfw, chan x reader, OT8 x reader, A/B/O, m/m/f smut, possessive! SKZ, possessive! Reader, anxiety and depression, reader is a CRYBABY, fluff, angst, virgin!reader,  cursing, violence, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, Sub reader x mostly dom SKZ, misogyny and sexism, Ateez are depicted as terrible people (sorry Atiny!) 

Chapter warnings: Suggestive, ABO, reader in heat, cursing, pet names, manipulation?

WC: 3k

MDNI 18+

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

There was an intense warmth covering your back when you awoke the next morning. It was so comforting you almost lulled back to sleep. That is until you heard a raspy voice in your ear,

“Good morning, Omega.” 

Chan 

“Mmm” you grumbled, too caught up in his warmth. 

He smiled into your hair and pressed a kiss to the back of your head. You felt tingles all over your body at his affection. 

It was still hard to believe yesterday even happened. It feels like a fever dream, one you never wanted to wake from. You dug yourself further into the alpha's embrace, wanting to be as close to him as possible. 

You feel weird today. Still so, so happy, but there's an oddness you can’t quite place your finger on. All you know is that Chan being here is so comforting to you.  

“How did you sleep, baby?” He kept his voice low, he himself still riddled with sleep. 

You yawned, “Wonderful, Chan. I don’t think I have ever slept that good in my life.”

He hummed, “I’m so glad, omega. You needed your rest after all the stress you’ve been through the last few days.” He brushes the hair from you face and turns your body over to be underneath him now. “And you’ll need your energy for what's in store for you today.”  He smirked at seeing your face turn full red with blush. Did he mean we are gonna…

He planted a quick kiss to your lips before he spoke again “We’re going into town today to get you new clothes and toiletries.” He rolled off the bed. 

‘Oh, get your mind out of the gutter y/n.’ You scolded yourself mentally. Propping yourself up on your elbows you admired your alpha as he slipped his pj pants back over his hips. He must have taken them off to be more comfortable in the night. The thought of being in bed with him, when he has no clothes on, makes you wanna drool. Made you wish you knew, then maybe you could have done something about it. ‘Y/N what the fuck calm down’

Chan could feel your eyes on him, so he pulled up his bottoms extra slowly, being sure to give you a good look at his ass. He smirked when he turned around to you staring right at him. 

“Come on, Baby. You gotta get ready, I’m sure the boys are almost ready to head out.” He walked to the door, opening it to find your clothes from yesterday neatly folded and waiting. “Seungmin washed these for you last night, so you had something to wear today.” He set them on the bed for you. 

“Wow, that was so thoughtful of him!” You beamed. 

If only you knew how many times Seungmin pressed your dirty underwear to his nose, drinking in the pure scent of you. 

----------------------------------------------------------

Chan left you to get ready for the day while he went and did the same. After you fell asleep last night him and the pack texted about today's agenda. A few of them needed to go to town so it was the perfect time to take you shopping. Chan was confident no one in their small town would try anything with you, especially if they saw the pack around. 

There was a stack of bagels on the table waiting for you when you walked down the stairs about 15 minutes later. Jisung was seated there munching on his own when he noticed you and pulled out the chair next to him. “Hey my Baby! Wanna bagel?” 

“Good morning Jisung,” You giggled. It was literal music to his ears. “I would love one, thank you. “ 

You took a seat next to him as he plated one up for you, with a side of cream cheese and butter. 

“Are you ready to go shopping?” He asked with cheeks full of food. 

You took your own bite, “Yes! Are you coming with us today?” 

It was at that moment Chan entered the room, “Ah yes, actually Hannie is going to be the one to take you to get clothes. I have a few other matters to attend to in town.” He pressed a kiss to your head and lowered his voice when he sensed your anxiety “Alpha has some important things he needs to do, you’ll be a good omega and go shopping with Jisung, right?” He was pumping out pheromones to appease you and make you listen. It was certainly working. 

You nodded along with his words “Yes alpha.” 

He gave you a devilish grin “That's a good omega.” His words sent a deep shiver down your spine. 

Jisung watched your interaction with interest. So far you were everything he’d heard about omegas. Sweet, respectful, beautiful. You really were a good omega. It made him want to take care of you. 

“Who are we waiting on, Channie-hyung?” The beta asked after gulping down his bagel. 

Chan pulled out your chair for you when you were finished, “Seungmin and Felix, they are probably already in the car waiting for us. Bin and Hyun are already in town, they took Changbins car. Bin wanted to get some gym time and Hyunjin is teaching his weekly art class.” 

‘Aww Hyunjin really couldn’t get any more attractive’ You signed dreamily. 

“Are Minho and Jeongin not coming with us?” You asked Chan. 

“Nah Jeongin wasn’t feelin’ to well and Minho wants to get some house work in” You nodded. 

“Seungmin will yell at me if we make him wait any longer so let’s go!” Jisung bolted for the door and you both followed right behind him hand in hand. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

The ride to town took about 20 minutes, but it felt like it went by much quicker. You were sat shotgun while Chan drove, his hand resting on your thigh the entire time. His touch calmed the nerves you felt, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You still can’t shake this odd feeling. 

The 3 betas sat in the back, Seungmin bullying Jisung about making him wait and Felix laughing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. 

“It’s not my fault Seung! Channie is the one who came down last, Baby and i were ready!” His eyes found yours when you looked back at him, “right baby?!” 

“Hmmmmm” you pretended to think, Chan giving you an amused side eye, Jisung pleading with you to agree. “I don’t remember.” You gave him a cheeky smile. “Oh wait , I remember now! It’s all Alphas fault!” You pointed at Chan and Jisung let out a cheer. 

Seungmin was not as amused, “Don’t cover for him y/n, he’s always the late one.” 

A loud “Hey!” then a thumping sound was barely heard over all the laughter in the car. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

In town Chan had Jisung change spots with him to take you to the boutique, while Chan and the other two boys attended to their own business. Your alpha gave you a deep kiss before departing, his smirk on display at your flustered state. 

You and Jisung arrived a few minutes later at this small but very fashionable clothing store. 

The door chimed as you opened it, a voice from behind a counter calling to you “Be right with you dearies!”

Jisung held onto your hand as you walked a little further in. 

‘Wow there are so many options here!’ you thought, mouth wide open at the gorgeous selections. 

“What can I help you -“ an older woman approached but paused at the sight of you. 

You gave her a polite wave “Hello. I need some new

clothes please.” 

She was an old beta woman, probably around late 60s, with graying hair and a green boho dress. She was a very pretty woman. 

“Eun, this is y/n.” The woman only then seemed to notice Jisung with you. “She’s Chans mate.” 

That seemed to snap her out of her daze, a bright smile gracing her features, “That sly dog went and got himself an omega huh? And a gorgeous one at that!” She approached you and grabbed your face, getting a good look at you. The blush returned to your face and you made eyes at Jisung next to you. 

Jisung laughed and released your hand pulling you back slightly. “ Yes Eun, she’s new in our pack and needs a whole new wardrobe!” 

The elder beta clapped her hands excitedly. “You’ve come to the right place then! I’ve got quite the collection for you to try my dear.” She disappeared into the back once again. 

Jisung put both hands on your shoulders, giving them a rub to calm you. 

“Don’t mind Eun, Baby. She’s a little eccentric. She’s an old friend Chans family. Watched him and his family grow up, so she’s a little excited.” Ah that makes sense. 

Eun came rushing out with her arms full of clothes. She set them on a moving rack before shuffling it over to the fitting room in the corner. “I picked out a few things that I think you’ll love!” 

She grabbed your hand and hurried you to the fitting room, chucking a few outfits into the room with you, then taking a seat outside with Jisung, both waiting for you to model all the clothes for them. 

It took about 2 hours before you decided you had enough to last a lifetime. Actually you were done after picking one outfit, but Jisung just waved a credit card at you and told you to keep shopping. That he knew if you didn’t buy a lot then Chan would be mad at both of you. That made it easier to pick out stuff, knowing your alpha would be pleased. 

It was when you were checking out with Eun that you started to feel the ache in your lower belly. And the fire in your veins. You clutched your stomach with one arm, the other holding onto Jisung so you didn’t collapse. 

When Jisung went to ask you what was wrong, the most incredible scent he had ever smelled wafted out of you. His pupils were blown and his body went rigid. 

He used both hands to ground you and keep you from falling. “y/n.. w-what is happening?” He managed to get out. 

“She’s going into heat! You have to get her home now!” Eun had seen this before, she grew up with omegas. 

“Me?! Shouldn’t we go pick up Channie-hyung first?” The boy asked in pure panic. 

“No you need to take her straight home there is no time, don’t forget you're in a town with other alphas that can smell her just as well as you can.” 

That seemed to snap him out of it, hauling you up and wrapping his arms around you. 

“Eun, can you call Chan for me please? Just tell him I'm taking her straight home.”

Eun opened the door and helped Jisung load you into the car. “Will do! I’ll have someone fetch these clothes for her later. Be safe.” She shut you in and watched you drive off. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

Chan had paid a visit to the police station to speak with the sheriff while you were out shopping. Now was the perfect time to see what could be done about your missing persons status. 

He was assured by the sheriff that if you made a report that you're not missing, they can send the information over to the original sector and have you filed as not missing and end the investigation. Plus your current location would legally remain anonymous. 

Chan felt relieved by that, one less thing to worry about. That is, he was feeling relief until he received a very panicked call from Eun. 

“You need to get home right now Christopher!” She hollered as he answered the phone. 

He winced at her loud voice, “Ah, Eun what's going on?” 

“Your omega is in heat, that’s what the fuck is going on. She started right in the middle of checking out! Had to leave all the bags here!” 

Chan felt his heart stop and gut wrench. His omega was in heat . “Where is she now?”

“Han took her home, I told him not to stop for you and go straight there to avoid any trouble.” 

 “Thanks for letting me know. I gotta make a call.” With that he hung up on her. He would apologize later. First he had to get a ride home. 

The line rang a few times before Changbins voice answered, sounding out of breath. 

“What’s up bro? Finally wanna come join me in a workout?” His voice was teasing. 

“Changbin” Chans voice was hard, Alpha mode activated. “I need you to come get me from the police department right now. It’s y/n, she's in heat.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Your senses were on overload. You could smell everything. Every trace of the boy’s previously in the car, every trace of Chan. And you could especially smell Jisung. Your hands kept finding his shirt, trying to tug him closer as he drove but he (regretfully) had to keep pushing you away. You’re gonna be the death of me he had said to you when the tugging began. 

You hadn’t had a heat in years, not since you presented as an omega for the first time. After that you had been on high quality suppressants, causing you to not have a heat while taking them. That must be why this one came on so quickly. It had been days since you’ve taken any. Being in a house full of men, with your alpha, your body is going into overdrive. It was so bad, you felt as though you had no control over your body or urges. It was acting on its own at this point.  It was making you delirious and feral.

Jisung sped as quickly as possible, while still keeping you safe, to get home. He made it there in record time, tires screeching to a stop outside the door. Even with you grabbing at him he managed to slip out of the driver's seat, bolting around the vehicle to open your door and gently guide you out. When his hands made contact with the skin on your waist when you shirt rode up, you let out a whimpering moan. You would be humiliated about that later. 

Jisung felt his boner grow in his pants. 

‘what the fuck what the fuck’ He was screaming internally, wanting to just take you there on the ground outside. He knew he couldn’t do that though. You were Chans first and foremost. His alpha. He would never disrespect him or you that way. 

“Come on my baby, we gotta get you to your room.” At the mention of him taking you to your room you found your footing and let him lead you inside. 

Stepping through the threshold the first thing you could sense was an alpha. 

Jeongin made his way into the entry to see what the commotion was about , when he stopped right in his tracks. He didn’t know what was happening to him but he raced to your side. 

“No no no no!” Jisung saw the young alpha coming at you and tried to stop him. “Jeongin wait, don’t!” 

He didn’t hear a word though, pushing Jisung off of you and cornering you into the wall beside him. 

At the presence of the alpha in front of you, you let out a long whine, hands reaching out and grasping his shirt. 

Jeongin presses his nose into the gland on your neck where your aroma was emanating from the heaviest. 

“Innie! You have to stop!!” Jisung yelled in his panic, but was only answered by the younger man’s deep growl. 

“Omega….” Jeongin inhaled you, wanting to devour you whole. Never in his life had he wanted something more. He could almost taste you on his tongue.

“Jeongin!” Jisung screamed out again, “You have to st-“ 

“Stop!” Came a loud bellow, then strong hands ripped Jeongin from your body, tossing him to Changbin. 

It was Chan. It was your Alpha. 

Tears leaked from you at the sight of him. He was furious, not at you, but at the situation. At the sight of your dizzy appearance he hoisted you over his shoulder and headed up the stairs. Just in time for Minho to come running from his room upstairs. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He demanded, but one look at the situation told him all he needed to know. 

Chan yelled back to Minho “Help changbin get Jeongin out of here! In fact all of you need to stay out for a few days! We can’t have any repeats of what just happened.” 

Minho nodded in agreement, “You're right. I'll make sure everyone stays away.”  

Changbin was trying to force the younger alpha outside, into the fresh air away from you. It took all his will power to resist you himself, so it was a real struggle to try and reel in Jeongin. Changbin was lucky he had the self control he had, or he would be just like Jeongin. That's not to say it was easy for the alpha, no no, his body was aching for a taste of you.

Minho was herding them both along, Jisung following behind. “Come on guys, it’s alright. Let’s just get out of here and clear our minds huh?” He won’t deny he was affected by you as well. The tastiest thing he had ever experienced. It pissed him off that this ordeal was even happening, though. ‘I knew she would cause fucking problems’ he thought bitterly. Being the ever so responsible one, Min loaded everyone in the van and went to fetch the other remaining members. Time to find a place to crash for a few days. This blows.

A/N; Finallllyyy a little bit of drama! As always, I would love to hear what yall think!

Please do not copy or steal my writing and content! Reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated tho!

doitforbangchan©

TAGLIST-

@chxnb97 / @butterflydemons / @zaggprincess2 / @stellasays45 /@uhhheather/ @walnutspie /  @a-mistake-tbh / @meowmeeps / @realrintaro / @ihrtlix / @raehawthorne / @juskz / @freckleboilix/ @marvelsmarauder / @0325tiny / @iyeeeverydee/ @stars-garden / @boi-bi-ahaha/ @gini143/ @queenmea604 /  @palindrome969/ @f9clementine/ @theysaidhush/ @kpophosblog/ @usercaiskz/ @honeym0chi/ @nobody3210/ @changbinswife10789  @5starluvr @usercaiskz/ @neyangi / @jiminssluttyminx/ @ayejaii/ @iknowleeknow/ @jeonginnieswifey/ @catlove83/ @upsidedownchaire/ @emmxxsworld/ @manuosorioh/ @igetcarriedawaywithyou/ @blondechanni/ @woozixo/ @ilovejeongin007/ @yaorzu-blog/ @theydy-madamonsieur

[skzdarlings]

final part: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 19k words)

warning for this chapter: the usual story dynamics plus explicit violence, intense peril, threat and injury to reader, graphic depictions of death, explicit sexual content.

-

Your father will be here soon.  He kept his distance during the rescue operation but will reconvene with his team before the journey home. 

You and Felix wake long before his anticipated arrival, when dawn is only just peeking into the hotel room. 

You lay in bed, your head on his bare chest and his arms around you.  You discuss the potential confrontation ahead.  Last time you were taken, your father was less than sympathetic to your plight.  Even though this was more his fault than yours, you are certain you will take the blame.   He cannot take responsibility for a misstep.  If he is fallible, he is weak, and that puts his whole existence in jeopardy.  It must always be someone else’s fault.    

Therefore it is likely he will punish you.  Therefore it is likely he will ask Felix to do it. 

“Felix,” you say when he does not look at you.   He is staring out the window with a look of pure frustration. 

“I know,” he says.  “You want me to do it.  Last time I…” 

“Yes.” 

There is no need to discuss last time.  You both know he fumbled that exchange.  Felix is meant to be the personification of resolute strength and obedience, the perfect soldier.  His moment of weakness snared your father’s attention, as weakness always does.  Your quick response remedied the situation well enough, but you will not be so lucky next time.   The only thing worse than a moment of weakness is the persistence of it.  He cannot hesitate again. 

“If,” you say slowly, “we want to find a way out… then now, more than ever, we cannot give him any reasons to be suspicious of us.” 

“I know,” he says, but his jaw is still clenched and his gaze is faraway.  

“Felix.”  You touch his jaw, minding the darkening bruise, and turn his face to yours.  His expression softens when he meets your gaze.  “Thank you,” you say.  “I love you.  I trust you.  It will be okay.” 

He cups your cheek and lifts your face.  His looks at you like he is studying every small detail.  Even though he must know your face perfectly – seeing it when he wakes, before he goes to sleep, every day for so much of his life –  he looks at you like he is seeing you for the first time all over again. 

You laugh when he flicks your bottom lip, the little pout he has long since called his weakness. 

“You could convince the sky it wasn’t blue,” he says, and kisses you tenderly.  “I love you too, sweetheart.” 

Maybe it is the novelty of hearing that out loud, or maybe you will just be crazy about him forever, but you feel flustered.  You laugh and squirm, your skin hot.  It makes him laugh, the menace kissing down your throat just to make you wriggle more. 

“Don’t let my daddy catch you then,” you tease, breathlessly.  “He wouldn’t like that very much.”    

The returned chuckle makes you shiver.  You run your fingers through his hair but he grabs your wrist and pins it down.  Your breath catches when he sucks a bruising kiss on your throat.  He is usually so careful about leaving marks, but today he dips his head to the soft skin of your breast and bites a mean little mark into the tender skin, making you gasp and buck beneath his hold. 

“No, he wouldn’t, would he?” Felix says, his deep voice dropping even lower.  “What would everyone say, hmm?  Your daddy, your guards… all those rich boys at those fancy parties who think they have a chance with you…” 

“Everyone thinks I’m a frigid bitch,” you reply, joining his game, smiling knowingly.  “And I am, aren’t I?  Nothing but trouble.”

“Nothing but trouble,” he says with a grin.  He flicks the covers off, then his hands are on your hips and he flips you as smoothly.  You yelp when he drags you halfway down the bed, arranging you as he kneels behind you.  “You can’t fool me, sweetheart,” he says.  One hand curls around your throat and the other snakes down your backside.  “Frigid?  Mm. I don’t think so.  I actually think you are very, very soft… and warm…” 

His fingers slip inside you easily, wet from your previous lovemaking and wetter still from his voice.  Every little breath and tortured groan has you twitching and gasping. 

“Felix,” you say.   

It is the right thing to say.  You are clawing at the bedsheets moments later, hiccupping on each watery breath as he holds your hips and fucks you right down into the mattress.  You press against it like you could disappear there, fucked into freedom, never to return to this dire world again. 

You sink into the bed and float in your mind, sighing when he wraps his arms around you and covers you with his body.  He is hot and whole and so alive, and everything seems possible while you are joined together.  You have each other, completely and irrevocably.  That is all you need to survive. 

You finish not a moment too soon.  You are nestled in his arms, kissing and kissing and kissing, flushed and satisfied and content, when reality comes knocking.  Felix throws on some pants while you scurry into the bathroom and close the door. 

Felix steps into the hall.  Between the bathroom door and the hotel room door, you only hear muffled voices.  Then a few clicks, then another knock, then you jump.   You are wearing a blanket and it slips with your surprise.  You adjust it frantically, but Felix says, “It’s just me.”  

You crack open the door to Felix in a t-shirt and his combat pants.  You recognize the tired lines on his face, cracks in the mask he is struggling to don.  His reassuring smile is not convincing. 

“Here,” he says, handing you some clothes.  “Your father is here.  He wants to see you at breakfast.” 

“Of course he does,” you say, just for something to say, letting your frustration seep into your tone. 

The bathroom tiles are cold under your feet.  A sharp snap of sensation and a reminder of reality.  Felix makes the world feel small in comparison to him, but the world is still there, ever turning with its usual machinations and politics and powers.  You are still suspended helplessly in the centre of it all.  Though you pushed the darkest truths to the corner for a few hours, making love and comforting each other, all those hurts and agonies are still there.  You see it in his eyes, his glance flickering from here to there as he roams with his thoughts.   

Neither of you have ever had a normal life and you do not know what to do with one.  He has been making difficult choices since he was a child.  Neither of you truly knows if you are making the right one now. 

You do the best you can with a strong hug.  It is a lingering, affectionate embrace, fitting your bodies together until you feel grounded. 

Felix looks over your shoulder, catching his own reflection.   You look back as well, his cheek against yours, your eyes meeting in the mirror. 

“I couldn’t stand the sight of my own face,” he says, his voice low even though you are alone, like the words are fighting his tongue.  It is hard to admit.  He swallows hard but continues, “I hated the stupid kid looking back at me… I wanted to be someone better, someone who could actually do something right…” 

You look at him rather than his reflection.  When you touch a strand of blonde hair, he closes his eyes, as if he can feel the pad of your finger on a lock of hair, smarting more than his bruises. 

“Is that why… the hair?” you ask clumsily.  You do not know how to wade through ten years of emotion.  Felix has coloured his hair regularly since the day you met him.  The blonde suits him but it is clearly unnatural.  It has not been soft in a very long time, coarse from repeated dye jobs. 

The colour is just one more layer of his meticulous mask, crumbling in front of you as he nods and sighs.  An admittance.  He could not stand to look in the mirror and see that other version of himself, the boy he was, the boy who made all those mistakes.   You see him, the years of questioning his choices, the impossible tether around his throat.  There has never been a day he has not questioned his choices.  Working for one bad man or another.  Rescuing his friend or his lover.   Letting violence happen or letting the violence use him.

You kiss his cheek, then below his jaw, threading your fingers through his hair.  You scratch at his scalp, just a feathery light touch, one that makes him melt in your arms.   

“I love you,” you say.  You find it is an addicting word yet it never loses its potency.  Your heart still races when he touches his forehead to yours, when he strokes your sides and hums a gentle sound of pleasure.  “Things have changed a lot over the years.  But we’re still here.”  Still living your lives, even in broken bits, those stolen pieces you mentioned so long ago.  “We’ve changed.  We’ll change again.  Things will happen and we’ll figure it out.  But please don’t hate that boy anymore.  I care about him a lot.  I want him to be happy too.” 

His face scrunches with the threat of tears, but he controls himself.  He pushes the emotion into a laugh, though it is humourless.  Then he closes the space between you and kisses you, cups the back of your head and holds you there until you are both satisfied. 

“All right,” he says in a rough voice.  “Get dressed.  It’s going to be a long day.” 

“You’ll be there, though,” you say. 

“Always,” he says, a hint of amusement touching the corner of his lips.  “I’m your bodyguard, hmm?”

You laugh and kiss him again. 

“Right,” you say.  “Always.” 

-

Your father sits at a dining table in the penthouse suite.  Behind him, a window wall flaunts the city skyline.  Daylight casts a glow around him like some deified king lording over his petty kingdom.  Guards loiter in the room and the corridor, keeping their eyes sharp as hotel staff prepare the table. 

You sit across from him with the sunlight in your eyes, the usual position of discomfort and inferiority.  He does not look at you, nor does he greet you, his eyes on his phone until the table is set.  A staff member goes to serve him but he dismisses them. 

“All of you, go,” he says, not just to the staff but his team as well.  They filter out of the room one by one.  

The penthouse is a ostentatious space, all white linen and gilded frames, tall ceilings and bay windows, but as the room empties, it becomes frighteningly big.  Or maybe you just feel frighteningly small, his tactics working as they often do.  Your father knows how to push your buttons because they are the same as his.   He is scared.  It makes him angry.  He makes you scared.  It makes you angry. 

“Felix,” he says.  “Stay.”

Felix is all that tempers you.   He stands against the wall but you do not look at him, staring at your father until he finally looks your way.  Despite the light, you hold his stare, feeling a modicum of triumph when he looks away first. 

“Did they damage you?” he asks.  His phrasing almost makes you laugh.  Damaged.  As if outside forces were needed for that. 

“I’m fine,” you say.  “My bodyguard rescued me.  Your team was damaged, though.”  You throw the word right back at him.  You cross your leg and sit back, like you are as unbothered as him.    

You know that underneath his cold exterior, he is anything but casual.  He is letting his rage simmer as he builds to some awful retaliation.  He was conducting a mission, sending his best asset on a job, and it was interrupted by your kidnapping.  A kidnapping that nearly lost him more than his heir, but that same irreplaceable asset.  An asset that previously made a mistake in front of his eyes.  This is no longer a game, a squabble between a parent and child, but a real world crisis with dangerous consequences.    

You should not provoke him, and that is why you do.  Because provoking him is something you have always done and you need him to see you as that hapless child if you are going to beat him.  You do not want to arouse further suspicion in him, that you are sitting here thinking about your own schemes, that you know more about his assets and operations than he could ever suspect.

So you toss your rejoinder and he catches it, as he always does, with a cruel smirk. 

“There are more where they came from,” he says.    

Returning like cockroaches and squashed just the same.  If only a multi-generational empire could be toppled as easily.  But your father is more than a man across a table; he is ten men in the corridor and more on the ground, he is paid staff and investors and a whole society.  

Though you feign nonchalance, inside adrenaline pounds.  Sweat gathers, your heart races.  He is good at making you feel small, but at least it is predictable.  The scene unfolds  in your mind before it happens, the script playing before a single action is commanded.   You will be scolded.  You will be reprimanded.  You will be punished. 

“Felix, come here,” your father says.

You predicted he would involve Felix after what happened last time.  The only question is what manner of punishment he will force from his hand.  All you can do is trust Felix to play his role so you can play yours.  You made it clear the physical pain was meaningless, that you could take whatever he inflicted.  Just another inside joke between you.  You will laugh about it one day. 

You do not look away from your father.  Your eyes are locked in a challenging stare, daring the other to break.  You are scared, but you feel so much more than fear and rage.  With your love for Felix, with the hope in your heart, you are an ocean of feeling and you are not ashamed of it anymore.  You stare your father down and mutely convey that you are not broken, that he did not win, that he never will win. 

His answer is the flick of a kitchen knife.  It slides across the table and nearly tumbles right over the lip.  It teeters within arm’s reach of you.  It is tempting to look and consider its purpose with the trepidation you feel, but you do not.  You tell yourself he will only hurt you so much, that putting you in true peril would surely be counterproductive to his overall efforts.  Whatever plan he has for that knife will be a momentary pain you can recover from.

Then he says, “Felix.” 

Felix steps into your periphery, the black of his fatigues a shadow at your side. 

“Pick up that knife,” your father says.  “Put it through your hand.  Right through to the table.”

It is not the demand you were expecting, not by a long shot.  As your father stares you down, steady where you start to waver, you realize this test is not for Felix.  It is for you.   

“I trust,” your father hisses the word, “you know the spot that will inflict the least permanent damage.”

The last time your father made this demand, you and Felix were kids at the start of your messy life together.  Instinct propelled you to stop him.  Over the years, you have mastered schooling your reactions.  The girl who tackled Felix, the girl who sobbed while he was beaten, that girl learned to save her tears for later.  Your father’s version of you is a cold, headstrong, hateful fool.  She might stop Felix to combat her father, or she might let him suffer out of pure hatred. 

Both options feel wrong.  Regardless of what you choose, you feel like you are giving something away.  You feel like your father will see right past it.  He stares at you like he will find your secrets written on your face.    

You have seconds to decide and that is not enough time.  The moment passes you by.  Felix plants his hand and takes the knife.  Your father does not count him down.  He watches you, willing you to make a mistake, to show your weakness.  To prove him right. 

You flinch when the knife thuds into the table, the soft reverberation of the wood accompanied with a gross little squelch that sounds too loud in this too big room.  Your reaction is strongly stamped on your face, disgusted and upset.  You look away to stop the tears that stab behind your eyes. 

Everything that has happened, everything you have done, and you are right back here.  After everything, he still ended up with that knife in his hand. 

Your father rips it out.  Felix catches his breath but does not cry out.  You catch a glimpse of the bloody knife before your father tosses it on the floor, as if he is discarding something insignificant. 

You slowly meet his gaze.  He is still assessing you.  You cannot tell if you passed or failed his test.  By the scrutiny of his regard, it seems he does not know either.  All you can do is look at each other while Felix bleeds beside you.

“You may go,” your father says, cold as the ice that locks your limbs.  It takes you a moment to stir life back into them. 

“Felix,” your father says.  “You stay.  We have business to discuss.” 

You do not look at Felix.  You cannot bear to look at him.   On the escorted march back to your room, you are quiet, biting the inside of your cheek to stop any more unwanted reactions.  Only when you are alone in the room do you let it out, an aggravated cry as you rip a pillow off the bed and whip it blindly across the room. 

This was never going to be easy, but now it feels like the ongoing struggle between you and your father has led to an insurmountable deadlock.  He has you enclosed in his fist and he is threatening to crush you in it. 

You do not think he knows about the true nature of your relationship with Felix.  He might suspect anything, an affair the last of it.  Even a menial friendship would be a detrimental betrayal to him.  All he sees is a smudge of a weakness in what should be the strongest cog in his machine. 

He is testing you and tormenting you.  He is perched on his pedestal, waiting for you to throw yourself at his feet in eventual penitence.   

You will not.  Not this time.  Your father is expecting retaliation in the form of equal dramatics and you will not satisfy him.  You will sit quietly.  You will do what you have been doing, stealing pieces of your life in the silence and shadows.  He controls a realm of power, affluence, and violence.  You control yourself.  Love has saved you all this time.  It will be your means of escape for good. 

You sit in quiet repose until Felix returns.  Although you promised to remain calm, you cannot help but fuss over his injured hand.  It has already been stitched and bandaged but you peek beneath the binding, almost gagging at the sight.

“All right, enough,” Felix says.  He lifts your head and guides it onto his shoulder instead.  You are sitting on the small loveseat under the window.  You throw your arms around him and hold tight. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, a tear sliding from your cheek to his shoulder.  You sniffle. 

“Don’t be,” he says.  “I can take the pain.  It means nothing.  Sweetheart, he means nothing.”

“I know,” you say, but you sniffle one more time anyway.  Gathering yourself, you lift your head to look at him.  “What did my father want after I left?” 

“I don’t fully know,” Felix says, the tenderness in his expression giving way to uncertainty.  “He said he wants to continue the job,” Felix says.  “He and Miroh, they’re both chasing these long-term investments in some government building contracts… Miroh has been getting in the way of your father’s deals, so he’s been mostly standing guard.  Then he got intel that a significant asset of Miroh’s would be involved in securing an upcoming bid…  And he thought… he thought with the right team he could… acquire whatever this asset was…” 

“Chris,” you say, a breathless note.  “That’s why he brought you on, isn’t it?  He told you the acquisition was Chris.”

“If Chris was alive, if he was working for Miroh even after everything…”  Felix swallows.  He looks pained, like all these words are hard to say.  His voice is rough and the words scratch like sandpaper as he forces them out.  “Between me, your father’s back-up team, and the element of surprise… We had a chance of stopping Miroh’s subterfuge and getting… rescuing… Chris.  Finally.” 

But Chris might be dead.  Your father might have killed him.  Miroh has a vast artillery and the asset in question could be anyone or anything.  It makes more sense your father was using Felix to eliminate this obstruction.  That is what he always does.  He uses someone like a thing, strengths and weaknesses calculated, and works them into his scheme. 

You look at the bloody bandage, wrapped tight around that wounded hand, and you cannot bring yourself to vocalize these awful, pessimistic thoughts.  You say instead, “But why would he want to continue the job now?  You no longer have the element of surprise.”   

“No,” Felix says.  “We don’t.  That’s because the job is over and your father is lying.” 

“What?”

“Chris is dead.”  Felix says it for you, with a hard set to his jaw that you recognize as a shield against emotion.  He does not look at you because it exposes that vulnerable, human part of him, and right now he is fighting to maintain his composure.  Cool, collected, he plainly states, “There is no chance of this job succeeding anymore.  Miroh caught onto us.  He interrupted us.  Whatever we were after is not there anymore.  Your father is just pulling my leash to see if I fight back.”  He takes a deep breath before saying more.  “He wants an excuse to question my loyalty.” 

“He is provoking us,” you agree.  There is a second of silence, both of you in contemplation, then you say, “We can’t let him.” 

“If I refuse this job, he will just get worse,” Felix says.  “If we try to run right now, we won’t get far.  We need to do this right, we need to—”

“Take the job,” you say.  “You said yourself, the job is over.  My father is a bastard and an idiot but he would never risk sending his best team somewhere dangerous when he has nothing to gain from it.  Call his bluff.  Take the job.” 

“I can’t leave you again,” Felix says, eyes closing as he clenches his good fist.  “I won’t leave you alone with him again.  Not right now, not like this.  Sweetheart, if something happened—”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, wrapping your hand over his fist and gently uncurling his fingers.  You nudge your nose against his chin, coaxing him to turn his head.  He finally does, sighing as he looks down at you.  You smile.  “I’ll be safe in the house.”

“It’s more dangerous in there than out here,” he says. 

“You know he won’t do anything worse than he’s ever done before,” you say.  You look down when you touch the bandage on his hand.  “We can take the cuts and bruises a little longer.  Do the job, then come back to me.  And who knows…”  You kiss his cheek, a touch of comfort.  “Maybe you’ll find the truth about Chris.” 

“I know the truth,” he says, unmoved.  “He’s dead.” 

You do concede it is incredibly likely.  If anything stopped your father from killing Chris, it was not morality, rather the practicality of breaching Miroh’s defences.  But it sounds like Chris was trouble to Miroh, so it is possible there was no pushback.    

It still breaks your heart to see Felix like this.  The burden of this bargain has caused him strife for so long, but you can see how it motivated him too.  As the hope leaves him, a light dims, and even your affection cannot ignite it. 

“How do you know that?” you ask helplessly. 

“I just feel it,” Felix says.  “In my heart.  I guess.  I think, umm.  I think.  I think I’ve known for a long time.  Maybe from the last time I ever saw him.  But I needed to believe in it.  I think I needed to believe Chris could be saved because then maybe—”  He looks down at his injured hand.  His fingers twitch when he fails to close his fist.  “Then I would have done something good,” he says miserably.  “Maybe then I could be worth saving too.”    

“Felix. Baby.”  You touch his face, still minding the bruise that grows more vicious by the second.  It only adds to the ache in your chest as you look at him, beaten and battered for someone else’s sake.  He has been taking hits every day since he was fourteen years old.  Whether it was for you or his friend, he was willing to surrender his life if it meant even a possibility of saving someone else.  “Felix, you have more heart and humanity than anyone I have ever known,” you say.  “Everything you have ever done has been because of love, despite what they tried to make you otherwise.  How can you not see what I see?” 

He looks at you, really looks at you, the way he did this morning.  He traces the curve of your cheek and brushes the subtle pout of your lips. 

“You’ve always seen more than most people do,” he says.  “You give me something else to believe in, you know?”

“Stop flirting,” you tease gently.  “This is serious.”

He laughs, his smile soft but sincere.  You kiss him slowly, until you are breathing the same uneven breaths, your hearts no doubt beating in tandem.  

Then you pick yourselves up and prepare for what comes next.   

-

Your father claims they will be gone for a week but you know it is not true.  There is no real mission so they will return in a few days at the latest.  For your part, you can only wait.  

Even though you have a tenuous plan, it is still hard being separated from Felix.  You remind yourself that you could not protect him in the field anyway, but logic is meaningless to your heart.  You imagine a version of yourself that is possessed of so many skills, she could wipe out every obstacle without breaking a sweat. 

But you are you.  Your skills are more emotional than physical and right now that physicality is even worse than usual.  You are lethargic from a brutal couple days, weak from the drugging, sore all over, and you cannot sleep well in an empty bed. 

You wake repeatedly in the night, startled by a nightmare where you are being taken, where Felix is being beaten, where your father kills him and a dozen boys like him and all you can do is watch.  The nightmares drag you into consciousness where you are barely eased, the reality of the world not so different from your nighttime horrors. 

In the daylight, you maintain the healthiest disposition possible.  You keep your distance from the security team, sitting in your room or quietly on the couch.  You do not engage when they antagonize you.   They grow bored of your presence soon enough, especially when they cannot get a rise out of you, leaving them with nothing to report to your father.

You expect the hours to drone endlessly.

Then you have a visitor. 

You ignore the doorbell.  The security team does not seem surprised by the interruption so you disregard it.  Maybe it is just another member of the team. 

You ignore the bell and the bustle of guards.  You head to the kitchen to scrounge for some lunch instead.  You hum as you chop vegetables, not paying any mind to the footsteps behind you.  You expect it is a member of the security team, stalking you in the name of supervision.  You turn to address him, a saccharine sweet smile at your face and a drole quip on your tongue, but your heart stops at the figure standing across from you. 

“Hyunjin?”

You breathe more than whisper his name, like surprise has winded you. 

You stand there, knife in hand, jaw hanging open as you stare into the face of your old friend.  He is somehow even more handsome than you remember, long dark hair framing his face, eyes fierce and cheekbones sharp.  An expensive blazer hugs his trim form.  His boots resound with a softer thump than combat boots, so you should have realized it was someone else sooner.

You never would have guessed him.  You have not seen Hyunjin in years. 

“Hello, my girlfriend,” Hyunjin says with a smile, dazzling and beautiful and oh-so very fake. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask tentatively, so perplexed by his appearance in your house that you do not know where to begin.  You nearly pinch yourself to make sure you are not dreaming. 

“Your dad called my dad,” Hyunjin says, his voice very light and casual, like he is picking up a conversation you paused an hour ago and not years ago.  “He thought you needed company so you wouldn’t try running away off or something.  So here I am.  Ta-daaa.  Company.” 

Security shuffles past the kitchen.  Hyunjin pauses, listening to the scuttle of their booted feet.  When the din quiets, he smiles at you again.  It does not reach his eyes. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper, laying the knife down.  “What on earth is happening?  Why are you here right now?”

Voices, laughter, the team in the other room.  You and Hyunjin look at the door.  His smile droops and he leans closer when he says, “Somewhere quieter please.” 

You are still in something of a daze when you lead Hyunjin downstairs to the gym.  A guard departs after giving the room a sweep, as if anyone or anything could have gotten down here with all the security.

Then it is just you and Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin crosses the room, taking in the space and equipment.  He whistles long and low while shaking his head.  It makes you laugh despite everything. 

“No, no, it’s nice,” Hyunjin teases.  “I never saw this room before.  But I always remembered your house was very small and understated.”

It’s a joke but you cannot force a laugh because his reminiscence sends you hurtling through your own memories.  He turns and you see a younger version of him, just for a moment, beaming and bright.  Hyunjin used to be the hopeful one, the person with a plan and ambition.  He believed there was more to life and he believed he could achieve it.  He was so certain that it sparked a flicker of hope in you.  Now your flame is an inferno but there is no light or fire behind his eyes.  He is so cold that it is hard to believe there was ever a flame. 

“Hyunjin,” you say, imploringly.  “What happened?” 

“A lot,” he says.  He puts his hands in his pockets like he feels at ease, but his eyes keep darting around the room, betraying his discomfort.   

Though your friendship was short, it was substantial.  You know him.  Right now he is labouring beneath the weight of his performance, his charming expressions crooked, like poorly fitted clothes.   He looks like an uncanny duplicate of the boy you once knew. 

You step closer to him.  He does not move, frozen in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets.   When he eventually looks at you, it is with a slow lift of the head.  You swear you can see a curtain drawing across his face as it happens.  This close, you realize just how pale and wan he looks.  He is grey at the edges, like he is fading away before your very eyes. 

“Hyunjin,” you say, instinctively reaching out.  He flinches away from your touch, then tries to smile like it didn’t happen.  You do not hide your distress. 

He finally drops the pleasant façade.  His hands fall out of his pockets and swing at his sides.  His countenance is even colder, his striking features sharper than ever as he levels you with a venomous stare. 

“Don’t pity me,” he says.  “I can’t stand it.  I made my choices and I’m living with the consequences.” 

“Consequences?” you ask.  “Did they catch you trying to—”

 “I never left,” he says.  “I never even tried.  I was close.  I had a whole plan.  A way to start over.  But then...”  He turns without any warning and walks to the mirror wall where he looks at himself.  His hand hovers in the air, fingers curling.  “I met someone,” he says.  “And he wasn’t who I thought he was.” 

When he does not elaborate, you step closer.  You reach out to touch his shoulder, a consolation on the tip of your tongue.  Before your touch even lands, he spins around and looks right at you. 

“It turns out he was working for my father,” Hyunjin says.  He speaks in a plain tone, conveying facts without any unnecessary sentiment, but you can see the red in his eyes as he strains to hold back emotion.  “It was my fault for being so stupid.  With the way things were going, I should have seen it coming.  There is no such thing as selfless love.  Everyone serves themselves in the end and I was stupid to compromise my well-being for someone else.  I deserved the betrayal.” 

“That’s not true,” you say without hesitation.  He is talking about someone else but his words feel like a slap against your friendship too.   You grab his hand like you can squeeze sense back into him.  “I’m so sorry you were hurt,” you say.  “But you can’t honestly think—”

“Hurt.”  He chokes on the word and rips his hand back.  “It nearly killed me.  I wish it killed me.  I wish I was anywhere but here.  But I am stuck here because of my stupid feelings.  Everyone has a weakness waiting to be exploited and you can’t trust anyone not to take advantage of yours.”

It sounds so much like your father that you stumble back.  It resonates with a heavy slam against your ribs and the heart beating inside them.   That heart feels so wrung out these days, swollen with so much love one second then shrivelled with pain the next.  It throbs now.  You are hurt just witnessing his pain.  He has been betrayed and broken and he is unreachable in his grief.  You can only imagine what he has endured to end up back here, in this house, with you. 

You cannot blame him for guarding himself, but your combative side rears its stubborn head.

“There are good people,” you say.  “There are people that can be trusted.  You can trust me, after all.” 

“I don’t know that,” he says.  “We don’t know each other anymore.” 

“That is definitely not true,” you say.  You and Hyunjin clicked so well because your circumstances were so similar, your fears and pain the same.  “We know each other perfectly, Hyunjin,” you say. 

He looks away, blinking rapidly.  His shoulders hunch.  It looks so wrong for a man like him to curl in on himself in shame. 

“Fine,” he says.  “One person.  It doesn’t make a difference.”

“One person makes all the difference,” you say.  “Remember Minho?” 

That one really makes him flinch.  You are pretty sure a slap would hurt less. 

“And Felix,” he says, his voice softer now.  He scrunches his eyes shut like he can stop his pain with enough concentration.  He pushes through and says, “He works for your father, doesn’t he?  I remember him at that party.  He was with the security team.” 

“Yes,” you admit.  “He works for him.  In a way.” 

“And you still trust him?”  Hyunjin laughs.  He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.  “That’s just stupidity.”

“It is not.”

“He works for your father and takes his money and you still trust him not to betray you?  That’s stupid.” 

“It’s not.”  Frustration bubbles inside you.  You want to grab him and shake him around, like you can sift through and find the real Hyunjin underneath all this.  “I know I can trust him completely.”

“You can’t possibly know that for sure,” he says.  “He’ll betray you for the right price.  Everyone has a price.  You don’t think there’s something he’d trade you for?” 

That does sting, if only infinitesimally, as you recall Felix and his conflicting desires.  But you do not begrudge Felix for his life choices.  He was an impressionable boy, raised to follow orders with no thoughts of his own.  It made him wise in some ways and naïve in others.  He fell into a bad bargain with a scheming man and found himself trapped.  He was forced to make difficult decisions.  It was not about choosing you or Chris.  You would never make it about that.   

“Felix loves me,” you say.  “And I love him.   You’re right.  There are things he wants desperately.  But he doesn’t have to trade me for it.  He knows I would surrender myself willingly to see him happy.  Just like I know, no matter what else happens, he will always come back for me.  No matter where they hide me.  No matter where I hide myself.  No matter what men like my father do to him.  We choose each other.” 

“Everyone breaks,” Hyunjin says weakly.  “No one’s that strong.” 

“Not on their own, maybe,” you say.  “We’re not alone.” 

There was so much ice in his feigned arrogance that you are startled when Hyunjin starts crying.  He covers his face with his hands.  His shoulders shake and his breath hitches. 

“Hyunjin,” you say, your own voice breaking.  You rush up to him in a flustered hurry.  You touch his head and his shoulders, trying to peer at him through his fingers.  “Hyunjin, talk to me, please,” you beg.  “Something else is wrong, isn’t it?  Hyunjin, why are you here?  Where are your parents?  Why did my father call yours?”

“My parents are dead,” he barely manages to speak, gasping between his hiccupping cries.  “It’s just me.  They came for me and my father was difficult, he asked for too much, and they— and I—”

“They?” you say. 

It is then you see it.  You are clutching his shoulder and it tugs at his blazer.  A shirt button pops open and your eyes drop to the exposed bruises across his collarbone.  You blink in disbelief at the horrible mosaic beaten into his skin, angry welts of red and purple and yellow.  It seems to go all the way down his chest.  When you part the material of his shirt, something else catches your eye. 

You freeze.

“Oh,” you say.  “Hyunjin.” 

He is wired.  Someone is listening.  Your father is listening. 

You stop breathing for a moment.  The world gets quiet.  You look at Hyunjin.  An old friend showing up at your house out of nowhere, presented like an offering.  Jisung was not important enough for your father to remember, but Hyunjin is a different matter.  He is rich if not wealthy.  His parents were upwardly mobile, his father the kind of pathetic rich man who thought he was equal to a man like your father.  Willing to do awful things to his own son to keep him in his clutches, then selling him to the highest bidder if it meant advancement.  His only mistake was asking for too much when he was ultimately expendable.  There are always more where he came from. 

You want to be wrong.  Your father is a busy man.  He would not waste time finding Hyunjin and putting him through so much just for this, just to corner you into a confession.  But you know he did.  This is exactly what he would do.  He moves like a coward, killing civilians and poisoning innocent boys, then he makes a show of throwing it in your face. 

He always told you friendship was beneath you.  What a way to prove it. 

“I think you’ve fallen in with a bad crowd,” you say, forcing a laugh through the gathering tears. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, a tearful whisper.  He touches your arms like he wants to hug you, but holds himself back. 

“Me too,” you say.  You warned him a long time ago that befriending you was dangerous.  You wish you had been wrong. 

You pull him into a hug and he immediately envelopes you, his arms around your shoulders and yours around his waist.   He chokes out a sob and squeezes you so tight that your breath catches.  Then he just holds you there. 

You do not know if it is his cologne or his shampoo, but it smells so familiar.  It takes you back to that treehouse, looking over a glittering neighbourhood as the sun set and he dreamed about the dawn. 

“I still remember that rhyme, you know,” you say.  The address of that cabin, written in a rhyming lilt that you never forgot.  “If you ever have a chance again… promise me you’ll try…” 

He chokes out another sob. 

“How can you still care about what happens to me?” he asks.  “What about you?” 

“I’ll be fine,” you say.  It is spoken calmly, for all that it is a lie.  “Promise me?”

He just nods, then pulls you closer again. 

You cling to him for as long as you can.  It gives you the strength to stay upright despite your shaking legs, even when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs.  You brace yourself for the worst, halfway expecting the whole house to erupt in a violent explosion. 

It is just a guard.  He says, “Time to go, Hwang. Visit’s over.” 

You want to keep hugging.  You feel like you will fall through the floor if he lets you go.  He is just as reluctant, but withdraws when the guard steps into the room.   He does not look at you as he leaves, head down as he trails towards the stairs. 

“Goodbye, Hyunjin,” you say. 

It stops him for a moment.  He nods then continues.  There is nowhere else to go but back up those stairs. 

You are left standing by yourself in the middle of the room.  The mirror wall makes the space feel never-ending.  You look at your reflection.  You look so rough already, scarred from your kidnapping, tear-streaked from crying.  Your hands tremble uncontrollably.  You remember a younger version of yourself sitting in front of this mirror with Felix, for a moment feeling like a normal girl with her boy.  His touch brought you to life.  He made you feels things you thought you would never feel. 

It will be your own voice your father plays back to you, your own confession betraying you. 

You will not be sorry for it.  

You look at yourself and wipe your face.  You take a breath.  You walk to the stairs, one step after another.  There are guards upstairs but they pay you no mind.  They have clearly received no orders, not yet.  You could try to make a run for it, but you would not get far on your own. 

Instead, you go upstairs to your room.  You look around like it is the last time you will ever see it.  You know that is not true, logically.  Your father will not kill you, but there are fates just as devastating. 

You walk through the room.  It is plainly decorated with a mix of things owned by you and Felix.  For all that this house is not a home, you carved a shared space in this room.   You sit on the bed and study everything from discarded clothes to books to computer parts. 

Something compels you to open the drawer on his side of the bed, that same single drawer you allotted when he first moved in.  A ragged old beanie sits at the bottom of it, the first thing he ever owned.  You fold it over in your hand and squeeze it like a talisman, like it will infuse you with some magic to endure whatever storm is blowing your way. 

You cross the room and touch a few more things.  You find some university textbooks and your heart aches with the desire to return to those times.  You lived a fleeting few years like you were completely free, in love and happy and home. 

You will probably never see Seungmin or Jeongin again, but it brings you some peace to know they will live good lives.  You will never forget their willingness to intervene on your behalf despite the odds being so stacked against them.  Maybe they were not very good at it, smacking chairs and throwing drinks, but you will remember them fondly.  You wish you could say goodbye. 

With that thought, you pause.  Your gaze drifts to your computer. 

You cannot say goodbye to Seungmin or Jeongin, but you can say goodbye to someone else. 

You never wanted to risk contacting Jisung from home, just in case your father was found out.  But everything is ending today, one way or another.  There is nothing more you can lose.   You will take some comfort in a final word to an old friend before you are sealed in this gilded mausoleum.

You sit at your computer.  You log into the blank profile you made some time ago.  It is hard to tell if you are nervous because your stomach is so twisted in knots already, but you think there might be some happy anticipation.  You try to manage your expectations because there is a chance Jisung did not read the messages, seeing as they came from a blank account. 

You should have known better than to doubt him.  You log in to several new messages, laughing from the first line.

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT’S YOU????? MY GIRL!!!!!!!

Okay sorry about that I am totally so cool I promise.  I’m just in shock.

I know you told me not to, but just so you know, I spent a year trying to reach you... 

Well, actually, I spent like four months crying my eyes out and being miserable and pathetic first..  On god, I eyed a jar of peanut butter with some serious thought for a minute there!!!  But then no, no way.  I had to keep going. 

I tried to find you.  Your bitch ass dad is famous because he’s an ugly rich loser so his properties are listed all over a million websites.  I found the one in town where you must live and I rode my bike there a bunch of times but uhhhhh yeah much to my eternal disappointment I am not James Bond and that security system was insane.  Don’t even get me started on when all the dudes in the army gear kept showing up.

On an unrelated note it’s way harder to buy explosives than you’d think. 

Just want you to know I did try to get in there.  You were never alone even if you felt like it. 

But it sounds like you’re not alone anyway HELLLL YEAHHHHH she is getting SOOOME.  All jokes aside I am crazy happy for you.  You deserve it for real.  He better be treating you right though or I WILL find a way through that gate and I WILL kick his ass.  Just say the word and I will be there in a heartbeat. 

He goes on for a while, the whole length of his message making you smile.  When you did not respond, he sent a few more, spaced further and further apart from each other.   The last message he sent was just a few days ago.

Hey I don’t know if you’re getting these.  I like to think so.  You don’t have to answer if you are.  I know you are in a dangerous spot.  Or maybe you’re not anymore and you got out.  In that case, I hope you never read these.  I hope you’re out there living your best life.  Maybe we’ll cross paths again but if not, I count myself lucky for knowing you at all.  I think we’re both slightly insane and everyone else I meet is way too normal haha. 

What I’m trying to say is I miss you like crazy.  I hope we can laugh together again someday.  Even if we never do, let’s say we will.   Keep smiling till I’m there.  Catch ya later crazy girl.

You smile.   Then emotion takes over, tears returning as you lay your hands on the keyboard to type a response. 

You have just hit send when there is a knock at your door, then it is opened without your permission.  You turn and look at the stoic guard who beckons you forward. 

“Your father is home,” he says.  “He wants a word.” 

You nod.  You spare one last look at you screen before logging out and shutting down.  You are certain it is the last message you will get to send.   A warmth fills your chest regardless.  You know it will reach Jisung.  His laughter and energy fills you with the strength you need to walk steadily out that door and down the hall.

-

Hi Jisungie. 

Thank you for your messages. I just read them all now. It wasn’t easy for me to check them before, but I did it today because it might be the last time I have an opportunity to do so.  My father found out about my love affair and seeing as it was with the one person he could not afford to lose, I have no doubt that a reckoning is on its way.  I thought he was bad before, but he has only gotten worse over the years.  I am sure this betrayal will put him over the edge.

I do not know what is going to happen.  I was scared until I read your messages.  They truly made me smile.  You have always made me a little braver.  I think I got less rebellious over the years because I got scared, but now… The worst has happened and I’m still here. 

I will figure it out.  But in case I never get the chance to talk to you again, I just wanted to say thank you one more time.  I miss you too, Jisungie.  I think about you so much.  I wish I could laugh with you again, the kind of laughter where nothing is all that funny but we can’t stop anyway.  Thank you for the times we did. 

I am happy to have lived my life because I knew you. I appreciate all the good times so much more because of the hard times.  You were a one-of-a-kind friend.  I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

Keep smiling for me.    

Goodbye. 

-

Your father is behind his desk. 

There is no one else in the room.  They close the door behind you.  You walk calmly up to the desk and take a seat in your usual spot.  You sit as straight as you can, perched on the edge of the seat.  You are still lower than him, but you feel bigger and stronger than you have ever felt in your life. 

Your father draws out the silence, perhaps waiting for you to break down.  You stare at each other.  When he opens his mouth to speak, you interrupt him.  You are uninterested in games and dramatic embellishments, which you know he will indulge.  You simply ask, “What did you do to Hyunjin?” 

“I would not worry about the Hwang boy if I was you,” your father says spitefully.  “You have bigger concerns—”

“And yet I am asking about him,” you snap.  “What are you doing with him?”

“What I do with everything when it is no longer useful to me,” he says.

It is the answer you were expecting but it still draws your rage like a magnet.  It punches out of you, your eyes wet with tears when you say, “You’re pathetic.”

“How many times must you suffer humiliation at my enemy’s hands before you understand that none of this is a game?”  His voice rises as he speaks.  “Do you want to be out on the streets?  Do you want to be brutalized?  Do you want—”

“I would rather die rotting in the sewers with Felix than spend even one more minute under your roof,” you say.

You wonder what surprises your father more: the vicious tone or your blatant confession.  It stuns him into silence.  You know you have disrupted his script.  There is little sense in taunting you with your words if you utter them plainly before he can try. 

“I see,” your father settles on saying.  He presses a button on his desk and the buzzer in the corridor resounds.  “Let’s put that to the test, shall we?”

The door opens and several guards usher inside.  You spare them a fleeting glance before your attention narrows to the figure between them. 

“Felix!”  You stand but cannot reach him.  He is surrounded by guards and they will not let you touch a hair on his head. 

He moves like he is completely boneless, evidently drugged with something to make him bleary and slow.  He thumps heavily onto his knees when they put him there.  His eyes are hazy as he looks around the office.   They pause on you, flicking up and down, then he smiles through the pain. 

The pain.  It is not just a drug.  He looks like he went a few rounds with a cement wall, his lip split and his jaw bruised.  His bandaged hand is soaked through with blood, the rest him as battered.  His injuries disappear beneath his shirt and pants but you know it is not a pretty sight.  You swallow down the bile in your throat before looking at your father. 

“He’s your best asset,” you say.  “You can’t lose him.” 

“Oh?  Can’t I?” your father asks.  “Can’t I?  Can’t I?  You think you know something?  You think you can tell me what to do?  You, when all you do is destroy what I make?  I give you everything and this—this is how you—”  His yelling sharpens to a shriek before he starts breaking things.  It pulls Felix further out of his haze, his eyes tracking the frantic movements as your father smashes a vase near your feet. 

You think about that tiny shard of glass from last time, the miniscule thing that started it all.   It makes you laugh even though nothing is funny.  Laughter is an emotional output just like crying, so it pours out of you with no regard for the actual gravity of the situation. 

It only worsens your father’s rage. 

“Does something here amuse you?” he asks, but you are laughing too hard to answer.  There is a vein throbbing in his forehead and you imagine it bursting.  You imagine all your problems solving themselves as he drops dead from his own rage.   The image is even funnier because you truly cannot imagine this man dying.  He is a monster.  If you stab him, you fear he will just mutate and come back worse. 

“You want to laugh?” he snaps.  He crosses the room to Felix.  “Laugh.” 

He holds out his hand and someone places a gun in his open palm.  This snaps you out of your delirious giggles, a winded whoosh spilling out of you.  

Your father does not execute action himself.  He always puts the gun in someone else’s hand.  The fact he is pointing it at Felix should tell you that his threat is not serious. 

But he has never been this furious, his anger a white hot cascade of fire.  Felix is just inches from the barrel of the gun.  Even an inexpert marksmen like your father could drive a bullet between his eyes. 

So the moment he grips the weapon, you shout, “Stop!” 

Your father looks at you with a cock of his head, satisfied with your reaction. 

Then he jumps back because Felix rushes to his feet, most of the fog dissipated.  Your father’s stupid men did not think for a moment that Felix would repeat a strategy.  Just days before he allowed himself to be captured so he could rescue you.  It seems he has done that again, feigning the depth of his condition.  He swings to his feet and kicks out. 

His injuries restrict his movement.  He is good at ignoring pain but his body overrides his consciousness.  He fights nonetheless, struggling with the guards while you watch. 

You look around for something that can help.  You snatch a paper weight off the desk  and prepare to throw. 

Your father is a step ahead of you.  Suddenly you are staring down the barrel of a gun, your father on the other end, fuming. 

“No—!”  Felix says before he is beaten down.  With his attention diverted, a guard kicks the back of his legs.  His knees buckle and he goes down with a groan. 

You look at him then flick your eyes back to your father.  You raise both hands and lift a challenging eyebrow. 

“You want to do this?” you ask.  “Really?  After everything?”

“After everything,” your father says.  “Exactly my words.  A house, an education, unending protection.  You want for nothing.  All I ask in return is obedience and you cannot even grant me that.  You have the audacity to betray me for this animal.”  He waves the gun around like the clumsy, ungainly thing he is.  It makes a few heads duck, including yourself.  You fear this man will kill someone without even trying.  It makes it hard to listen, which might be for the best, as he goes on a long tirade about privilege and position and loyalty. 

He starts merely angry but it turns downright diabolical. 

“And you.”  He turns to Felix.  “I dug you out of Miroh’s gutter!  I made you a bargain!  I gave your meaningless life purpose!  You are nothing without me.  How dare you think to take what is mine.  How dare you think you are anything more than a dog.  How long have you kept this secret?  How am I supposed to trust it is the last?  You are a liar.  For all I know you are lying about everything.  Is that it?  Are you a spy, feeding reports back to Miroh?  Is that why I can never succeed in my missions?  Have you been—” 

Felix bursts into laughter.  His face scrunches with delight, his cheeks dimpled. The low rumble of his laughing voice sounds real, honest amusement at the proclamation.  It fades to a sigh, then he looks up.

You have never seen such a dark glare shadow his features, made all the more horrifying thanks to his bloody injuries.  It makes your stomach drop even though it is not directed at you. 

“You fail at all your missions because you’re an incompetent idiot,” Felix says.  “You couldn’t even control two children. What makes you think you can control Miroh?”

“Have you forgotten our bargain?” your father yells, waving the gun towards Felix again.  “You lie and trick your way into my household and still expect—”

“Our bargain,” Felix spits the word and some blood sprays out.  He spits the rest on the floor and shakes his head.  “I know he’s dead.  You killed him a long time ago.”   

The room is quiet for a moment.  Your father is still holding the gun, though it dangles at his side.  He and Felix stare each other down.  Although Felix is kneeling, his sinister stare is far more terrifying than your father’s blank gaze.  But then that empty gaze turns cold and your father smiles, one of those sharp smiles that opens like a slash across his face. 

“Now how would you know that,” your father says, “if you are not a spy for Miroh?”

“One of Miroh’s men told us at the warehouse,” you interrupt.  It earns you nothing but a wrathful glare from your father.  He gestures to you and a guard puts a threatening hand on your shoulder. 

“You will speak when spoken to,” your father snaps.  He looks at Felix again.  “Oh.  Yes.  You.  Whoops.  I very nearly forgot, it was so long ago when I killed your friend.  Does that make you sad?  Poor little boy.  You should have remembered your place.  Your kind are born to die for men like me.”

“Men like you,” Felix says.  Mourning will have to wait so he laughs because he cannot cry.  “You’re pathetic.  Not a surprise, though, yeah?  Since your father took care of everything before I killed him—oh.  Whoops.”  He tilts his head and smiles, speaking with the same saccharine tone your father just used to mock him.  “It was so long ago.  I almost forgot I shot your daddy in the fucking head.  Does that make you sad?  Poor little boy.  You should have remembered your place and stayed behind your walls.  You’ll never be a man like him.” 

Your father has never looked so stricken.  You did not even know his face could contort such a way.   It makes him look very human for the few heartbeats that it lingers.  You can almost picture a younger version of your father, breaking under the fist of his father before him.  

Then he schools himself.  Once more, the untouchable monster stands before you.  The gun wobbles only a little when he raises it, taking aim at Felix. 

“Stop!” you shout.  You were just picturing the passing of generations, so maybe that explains why your panicked brain compels you to blurt, “You can’t kill him! I’m pregnant!” 

This time every head in the room swivels towards you.  Even the other guards do not hide their surprise.  Your father stares, jaw agape, and Felix looks just as bewildered.  You feel bad because you can see thought flickering behind his eyes, wondering if maybe you are telling the truth.  It makes his face change, pain flashing.  Panic seeps into his veins. 

“Excuse me?” your father says. 

You almost trip on the chair.  Your knees knock and your voice shakes when you say, “You heard me.” 

“I know what I heard.”  At least it succeeds in garnering your father’s attention.  He forgets about Felix entirely as he stalks towards you, gun clutched in his undoubtedly sweaty hand.  “My problem lies in understanding how this can be.”

“Well,” you say slowly.  “I can’t imagine you really want me to explain that—”

You father backhands you across the face.  You careen into his desk, barely catching yourself. 

“It could work in my favour yet,” your father says.  “Start fresh.  Fix where I went wrong with you.  Because you are an irredeemable and entirely lost cause.” 

This baby is not even real yet you panic at the thought.  It unspools an infinite and horrifying future, this house an eternal monstrosity birthing a new generation of tyrant and monster.  Hurting and contorting everyone in the family name for the sake of maintaining that vast estate.  

This has to stop. 

“Of course I am,” you say.  You take a long, steadying breath, then you push yourself upright.  You turn to your father and meet his gaze, aware of the gun but feigning complete nonchalance.  “I can’t believe it has taken you this long to realize it,” you say.  “You lost me a long, long time ago.  You want to control everything because you’re scared of losing anything.  But you’ve already lost what you were trying so hard to protect and you can never, ever get it back.  I will not continue what your father started.  I will not be what you have become.  I am not like you and I am proud of that.  I am proud that I love my friends, and Felix, despite how much you tried to stop me. But I am me and I am not scared.” 

You dive at him, a vicious tackle spurred by that hurricane of emotion inside you.  You tackle him so quickly that it takes the guards a second to react.  The gun clatters to the floor as it flies out of his hand.  He throws up his fists to protect his face when you swing down with all your might.  What you lack in physical strength you compensate with drive, slamming your fists down without care for where they land, again and again and again. 

Then someone grabs you by the collar and yanks.  It is one of the guards, pulling you to your feet.  Your father shrieks and hollers like a wounded dog, snarling and frothing like one too.  He gets to his feet and swings at you. 

Felix rises, struggling to reach you.   You stretch out your hand, your fingertips touching before you are yanked apart from each other.  You cry out, struggling in the guard’s death grip to no avail.  Felix is fighting the other guards but his injuries put him at a disadvantage. 

You are dragged away from the chaos.  Your father picks up the discarded gun on his way. 

“Take her outside!” he shouts at the guard, then turns to the mess in his office.  “Don’t waste your energy.  Shoot the boy.”

“No!” you scream, so guttural you hardly recognize the sound.  You cry as gunshots ring in the office, but you lose sight of the skirmish as you are dragged, kicking and screaming, down the stairs and out the front door. 

You curse at your father and the guard, bits of your shirt ripping when you fight to escape.  You are smacked and twisted, your shoulder popping so painfully that it makes you wail. 

“Stop it, stop it!”  You are fully sobbing, either from pain or panic.  It does no good as you are dragged into the night.  The grand driveway is lit like a stage awaiting players, lamps and towers beaming over the pavement.  The gate opens to the street beyond.  It is pitch black.  There are no other houses on this hillside, the estate sprawling across its expanse, so there are no streetlights.  A black car is parked on the curb.  It feels like a chariot to the underworld, black and swallowed by shadow.  You are as good as dead.  Felix might be truly dead. 

You struggle some more but you are in so much pain.  Your father is shouting directions at the guard and it splits his attention.  His grip loosens and you successfully break free. 

You do not hesitate.  You run into the street, straight through the pitch black.  If you run far enough, you will eventually reach a proper street leading into the city.  You do not even care which direction you go.  You just run, ignoring the screaming pain in your muscles as your feet hit the pavement.

A gunshot pierces the quiet night.  You stumble to a stop, throwing your hand up over your heart.  You touch your chest, expecting to find a bloody wound.  But there is nothing, not a single drop.   You were not shot. 

You spin around and watch the guard fall to the ground, a bullet in his head.  Your father turns too, holding his own gun at the approaching figure. 

Your knees almost buckle as relief washes over you, Felix storming down the driveway with a gun of his own raised at your father.  Felix is badly wounded, but even at his worst he is a far better shot than your father.  They both know it too, staring each other down as Felix gets closer and closer. 

“Stop where you are!” your father screams, his voice breaking. 

Felix ignores him, gun still raised.  Your father fires a shot that goes wide.  Felix does not even blink as it ricochets off a wall.  He walks calmly to the sidewalk where your father stands.  He does not smirk or gloat.  He just looks at the frightened man who terrorized the world to make himself feel better, and he lines up a shot. 

Felix pulls the trigger. 

Nothing happens. 

His brow furrows before his face twists with fury.  The gun has jammed or it’s out of bullets, but either way it is useless.  He lowers his arm, the gun dangling from his hand as he stares at your father.

Your father just laughs, a ridiculous and semi-hysterical laugh as he stumbles back but never lowers the gun.  Felix is much closer now.   Even your father could not miss this shot.   

Felix drops his gun and smiles weakly. 

“She’s funny, you know,” Felix says.  “And smarter than anyone I know.  She picks up on things everyone else misses.  It’s too bad you can’t see it.  But then, you’re not like her.” 

“Shut up,” your father snaps.  “You have exceeded your uses, boy.” 

You realize you are running.  Even before the conscious thought reaches your mind, your body spurs you into action.  Instinct commandeers control and you hand yourself over to it.   Felix looks up just as you emerge from the dark.  He sees your face for a split second, enough time for him to realize what you are doing and shout, “Stop!”

Your father’s finger is already on the trigger.  A shot rings out and this time it does hit you, sharp and searing as you dive in front of Felix. 

The gun hits the ground.  Your father looks at you with petrified eyes.  Felix catches you, supporting your weight as he sinks to his knees with you in his arms. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, touching your face, your neck, your chest.  “Sweetheart, look at me.  Stay with me.” 

The pain is excruciating, like nothing you have ever felt before.  You cannot even tell where it is coming from.  It feels like your neck and shoulder and heart all at once.  It radiates and burns.  The pain is so overwhelming that you do not notice the wet, tacky feeling of blood.  You see it before you feel it, all over Felix’s fingers as he finds the bullet wound in your shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” he says, barely more than a gasp.  His chest is rising and falling rapidly.  You scream in agony when he grabs your shoulder and squeezes it hard in his fist.  “I know, I know,” he says.  “It exited clean.  There’s nothing vital there.  You’ll be okay, sweetheart, I got you.  I just have to staunch the blood.  We just have to—”  His voice breaks on a sob and he looks up at your father, his hand covered in your blood and his rage as red on his face.  “We have to get her help.  Now.”  

Your father’s response is to pick up the gun.  He nearly drops it, his shaking hands clammy, but he gets an unsteady grip eventually.  He points it at Felix again.  

“Are you fucking serious?”  Felix shouts in aggravation.  “Your daughter is going to bleed to death if you don’t do something.  Put the fucking gun down!”

“Get away from her,” your father says.  “Get away from her and put your hands up.  I’ll get her help.” 

“No,” you say, shaking your head then crying when pain lances down your neck.  “No, Felix. Don’t.” 

Your father will not take another shot at Felix, not with you in his arms.  Your father might want to control you, but he does not want you dead.  You are the only thing that is protecting Felix now.  If he moves, he dies. 

“Don’t go,” you beg.  “Felix, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Felix says.  He looks up at your father, venom in his voice as he asks, “Are you really going to stand there and let your daughter die?” 

“Are you going sit there and let her die?” your father retorts.  “Get away from her and I will save her.” 

You feel Felix twitch. He presses his fingers a little harder, stopping a rush of blood.  It makes you weep and you plead, “Felix no.  Please.  I can’t watch that.  I’d rather it end like this.”

“Don’t say that.”  Felix looks down at you.  His bloody hand is shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks at you.  “Nothing’s ending.  You’re gonna be fine.” 

“It never ends,” your father babbles.  He almost drops the gun when he trips over the lip of the sidewalk, stumbling backwards into the street as he stares at you.  You stare back, wondering if it is your blurry vision or if he is really crying.  All you can see is him wiping his face, the gun trembling in his hand.  “It just keeps going,” he says.  “Only I can end it.” 

He is taking aim again.  You cannot tell if he is aiming for you or Felix, maybe some half-baked delirious plan in his twisted mind to put you out of your misery and take Felix with you. 

Felix does not have time to attack.  He can only curl his body around yours to protect you from the shot. 

Then a beam of light shatters the dark.  It flies up the street, illuminating your father.  He looks in that direction.  Everyone is drowning in their sobs and it is all so loud that it takes a second to hear it: the heavy, growling drone of a speeding car, hurtling ever closer.  The white of a high-beam headlight blinds your father with lightning hot intensity. 

It is the last thing he ever sees. 

Felix is as startled as you.  You both cry out in horrified shock.  He blocks your body to shield you from the sudden and unexpected gore.  Noiseless convulsions tremble through your whole body as you stare up at Felix, not understanding what just happened. 

You both look over as the car rapidly reverses, disappearing just as quickly as it came.  In its wake is your father, or what remains of him.   

Just like that, the whole world tilts on its axis.

You cannot comprehend what you are seeing.  This man was a towering, nightmarish monstrosity, bigger than life and death, holding the world in his fist.  Even he desperately believed in his own mythology.  It seems impossible that he could be that nightmare but also be this, a broken and very human body, muscle and gristle and protruding bone, half flattened to the tarmac.  A sudden and entirely undignified death, comically animal, and as lowly as everything he ever disparaged.   

You and Felix stare at him, at the mess of his ruined dead body on the dark street.  It is so, so quiet.  The house is so still.  The street is empty.  You can hear the soft buzz of the floodlights. 

You make a hurt noise.  Felix looks down with a perplexed shake of his head.  But he only has a moment to mind you, his mouth open with some unspoken thought, when you hear the car again. 

You both look over, your heart racing and your blood spilling over his hand.  He is wearing his most determined face, braced to face an adversary. 

You do not know who to anticipate.  It makes no sense for Miroh to be here.  He would not have known anything unusual was transpiring at this house tonight.  How could he know to send someone?  Yet it is the only thing that makes sense.  The only person who could have taken down someone like your father would be someone just like him. 

You are braced for the worst when the car comes to a stop.  The dead body looks more grotesque as the headlights flash over it. 

The driver does not turn off the engine.  You hear the patter of frantic footsteps before the silhouette is illuminated by the car lights.  Wide eyes meet yours and your heart stutters.  Your tears are halted by the face staring back at you. 

“Oh my god,” Jisung says.  “That was the bad guy, right?” 

Felix reacts first, a bark of laughter made in disbelief as he stares at your startled best friend. 

Han Jisung is both the same and different, with a flop of dark hair and big brown eyes, but years have passed, leaving him bulkier and more mature.  He pushes a pair of glasses up his nose, the wide frames only exaggerating his eyes, making it very easy to hold his gaze when he looks at you. 

“Jisung,” you say, and start crying all over again.  “Jisung.”  You cannot seem to find another word.  You just gasp his name between sobs.

Jisung practically flies towards you, landing on his knees. 

“Hey, stranger,” he says, carefully touching your cheek.  “You’ve looked better, I’m not gonna lie.” 

You laugh even though it hurts, reaching for him with a shaking hand.  He takes it despite it being sticky with blood, cupping it safely in his own. 

“You’re here,” you say.  “How? Why?” 

“Of course I’m here,” he replies in a soft voice.  “I got in my car as soon as I saw that goodbye message.”  He gently squeezes your hand.  “You didn’t think I’d let you get away twice, did you?”        

Your laugh is more of a sob, in too much pain to truly smile.  Felix asks Jisung to help, showing him where to apply pressure.  Jisung complies, holding you while Felix tugs off his shirt.  It leaves him in a tank top, all his scars and bruises on display.  You want to fuss over him too but he gives you no opportunity to linger, using his shirt as a makeshift tourniquet for your wound. 

“So your boyfriend is Felix,” Jisung says while he works.  “That’s great. I was rooting for you two crazy kids.  Felix had a pretty obvious crush on you in high school.  I didn’t say anything because you kinda seemed to hate his guts but I guess that’s not true anymore.  You had some bigger bastards to hate.  Speaking of, that was your dad I got right?  I mean, I didn’t even think, I just saw him waving that gun around and I hit the pedal.  Next thing I knew—ohhh shit, Felix, you’re really strong, what the fuck, man.  Have you been working out—” 

Felix scoops you into his arms and stands.  His usual unwavering strength falters just a little, his injuries protesting his action.  You tell him to put you down because it will do no good for you both to collapse.  Jisung stands and helps steady you.  They both lay a hand on your back, taking some of your weight as your feet touch the ground and you wobble. 

“That’s my girl,” Jisung says.  “Oh man, that’s a lot of blood, ha ha ha – AHH.  No, it’s fine, we’re okay.  Careful—”

“Jisung,” Felix says, looking past you to meet his eye.  “Are you okay?”

A more than fair question considering how fast everything just happened.  Jisung stops rambling and takes a few deep breaths before he answers. 

“Okay, yeah,” he says.  “Totally fine.  For now.” 

“Okay,” Felix says.  “Because I need you to take her while I—”

Your ignore their conversation.  Your eyes are on your father.  You cannot even call it his body; it is a carcass.  His lower half is gored but his face is mostly whole.  You half-expect his mouth to open with a wailing shout.   You are so distracted with the thought, you misstep and your weak ankles give out.  You are spared a kiss with the pavement when Jisung catches you.  It is a haphazard embrace, throwing his arms around you to keep you upright. 

“Can you take care of her until I get back?”  Felix asks. 

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Jisung says.  He puts his growing bulk to use and lifts you into his arms, bridal style.  You cannot move your shoulder to lift your arms around him, but you rest your head in the curve of his neck as he carries you to his car. 

His car.  Hysterical giggles bubble inside you, quashed only by the physical ache of your body.  Han Jisung really raced back into your life and annihilated the worst of your demons by driving right at him.  

Years of nightmares and beatings and pain.  Years of your father lording his power over you and the world.  Years of believing he was terrifying and untouchable.  

Jisung always said it was that easy.  He was just a teenager, lookingat the impossible powers that surrounded his friend but believing whole-heartedly he could save her anyway.  You argued and pushed him away, but he knew better all along.  Jisung was not cowed by money and influence, not impressed or frightened by men like your father who ravaged the world and gloated about it.  Jisung had no power or influence of his own but that didn’t matter.  He saw his friend was in a bad situation and he wanted to save you.   So he did. 

He carefully rests you in the passenger seat.  In the time it takes him to circle to the driver’s side, you break down crying.  The pain exacerbates it, your body seeking release, but it is sentiment that pours out of your heart. 

Jisung gets in, looking very startled.  He adjusts his glasses. 

“Did it get worse?” he asks, reaching for you with a bloody hand.  You look at it, you look at him, very literally stained with blood on your behalf.  He is staying composed but you can see the jitters under his skin.  He just killed someone for you.  It might have been a panicked, spur of the moment decision, but the end result was the same.  Even though your father was not a good man, taking a life is a serious burden. 

And here he is, placing that weight aside so he can check on you. 

“Jisung,” you say.  You wish your hands were not so dirty because you want to touch his face or hold his hand.  You satisfy yourself with leaning towards him, touching your forehead to his cheek as you cry. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jisung says.  He shifts so your foreheads are touching, his clean hand cupping your cheek.  “I got you, okay?  It’s over now.  Felix is gonna take care of it and I’m gonna take care of you.  It’ll be okay.  Don’t be scared, all right?”

“I’m not,” you say.  “What did I do to deserve you?”

“You’re my friend,” Jisung says.  “You don’t have to do anything to deserve it, okay?  Look.  I know what will make you feel better.”  He reaches past you into the glove compartment.  You have no idea what he could possibly have in there that will make you feel better while bleeding out of a bullet wound in the passenger seat of his car, the same car he used to murder your abusive father. 

He fishes around then pulls out a bag of spicy peanuts, the same flavour you used to eat all the time in high school.  Even though he was allergic, he bought them whenever he found them, just because he knew you liked them. 

You take them slowly, staring at the familiar packaging.  You sniffle.    

“It was always going to be you, wasn’t it?” you say softly.  You could cry all over again.   “You really came back.”

Of course Jisung saved you.  You realize now your father could never be bested by Miroh or someone like him.  They would be locked in a perpetual stalemate, predicting each other’s every step, giving and taking and killing in a circle of violence with no end.  But Jisung is not like them. 

Whether the gesture was big or small, whether it was peanuts or a rescue, it was selfless, and someone like your father would never understand that.  He never saw it coming. 

“Well, yeah,” Jisung says.  “My promise was forever, remember?”

You can only nod, bumping your heads together.  Jisung wraps you in a hug then kisses your forehead before buckling in and taking the steering wheel. 

“All right,” he says.  “We can catch up after.  Let’s get away from this place.  It’s giving me the creeps.” 

-

It is strange looking at your house on a news report.  It makes you feel like you are watching someone else’s life. 

You are stitched and showered, sitting on the floor of a twin bed motel room.  You are still damp from the shower but each little trickle feels like blood, your jittery fingers constantly swiping at your skin. 

Jisung sits behind you on the bed, his legs bracketing you, double checking your stitches.  Felix said it was paramount to avoid a hospital or any other institution that would identify you.  He told Jisung to book a room at a motel on the highway and wait for him, that he would stitch you up himself when he arrived.  Jisung took the initiative, boasting some first aid training for his job at the grocery store. 

“Usually I’m putting bandages on a cut finger,” Jisung said, hands covered in blood as he fixed your wound, “but this is, uh, similar I guess.  Sort of.” 

Felix arrived while you were in the shower.  Now he is in there, cleaning himself and minding his own injuries while you and Jisung watch the evening news report.   The blinds are closed, rain pelting the canopy over the balcony, but you are tucked away from the storm, hidden from the world as it mourns you. 

“A devastating house fire is believed to have left no survivors on the premises,” the reporter says, backdropped with a video of an inferno ravaging your father’s house.  “Police are still investigating, but among the suspected dead is a prominent local businessman and his daughter.”  They show a portrait of your father and an old yearbook photo of you.   That girl looks nothing like the battered woman you are now.  You really do feel like you are watching someone’s else story end.

“Wow,” Jisung says, watching too.  “How does it feel to be dead?”

You rest your head against his knee, sighing as you stare at the television. 

“I’m not dead,” you say, staring at the photo of you.  That girl might be dead, but you are very alive. 

Felix accidentally swings the bathroom door too hard, the thud like a gunshot in your mind.  You jump a mile out of your skin, digging your nails into Jisung’s leg unthinkingly. 

“Ah ah ah ah—”  Jisung grabs your wrist to pry you off. 

“Sorry,” Felix says, truly apologetic.  He closes the door with a gentle click then approaches.  He sits beside Jisung on the bed, laying his hand on your head and looking you over.  “How are you?” Felix asks.   He pays no mind to the news report but that is likely because he is responsible for the story they are broadcasting.  You know Felix would tell you every detail if you asked, but you decide you do not want to know how he moved the bodies around.  It is enough to see the walls of that place burning. 

He packed a few things first.  A stuffed duffel bag sits on the other bed.  Perhaps it should feel daunting, that all you have left is a single bag of necessities, but it feels freeing.  You are not burdened by the weight of more.  Your hands might be shaking and you might be hurt in more ways than one, but you can exhale. 

You take Felix’s hands and kiss his scraped knuckles.

“I’m fine,” you say.  “What about you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he says.  He looks more tired than you have ever seen him, but he manages a laugh when you pout at him.  “Don’t do that,” he says, flicking your bottom lip.  “Just some bad bruises, yeah?  I’ll be fine.” 

You know he is not fine but you respect his desire for peace.  You can check his injuries later when he has settled. 

“Well then, what about you, Jisungie?” you ask.  You turn around to face him.  “How are you?”

“Uh, honestly…”  Jisung rakes his fingers through his hair then exhales on a shaky laugh.  “I’ll let you know when I know.  It’s all a bit—uh—”  

“Yeah,” you say, taking his hand.  “I know.” 

You suspect there will be no proper words for a while.  You cannot even think of recovery while your wounds throb.  There are still gunshots firing in your mind.  When you close your eyes, you see a body on the pavement.  You expect a knock at the door and a gun in your face, even though there is no reason for that.  Miroh is probably sitting back and laughing at the detonation of your father’s house.  Your father’s people and investors will scramble over the company tomorrow.  That world will turn without you.  You will not miss it.    

You struggle to sleep that night.  You lay on your back to mind your shoulder but that is not your only grievance.  Felix lays beside you where he belongs and Jisung is in the other bed, so you are not alone anymore, but your adrenaline will not dwindle.  Now that you have a moment of peace, it feels more chaotic than ever. 

When you start breathing harder, Felix wraps an arm around you. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers.  He does not ask what is wrong.  It is more than self-explanatory.  You do not need to speak. 

You want to roll over and bury your face in his neck, but you cannot move because of your shoulder.  You suffice to hold his arm tight, closing your eyes as his protective embrace surrounds you.  His heart beats against your body and you let it lull you into a gentle repose. 

You do not sleep for long.  There is morning light when you wake but it is a bleary, early grey light.  Everything smells a little damp from the rain.  This is a small motel, meant to serve as a momentary respite for passing travellers.  You cannot stay here. 

Felix wakes when you do.  After a few morning kisses, he rises to use the washroom.  Jisung is still fast asleep in his bed, his cheek squished and his hair a shaggy mess on the pillow.   You smile, looking at him.  There is a gap between the beds but he is close enough to touch if you stretch.  You content yourself with looking, thinking about how lucky you are to have him again.  It is a light and happy thought, but it darkens very swiftly when you recall what he did to save you.  It is going to weigh on him, whether all at once or in pieces. 

The weight of trauma will be a heavy burden, but you are alive to carry it.  There are others who are less lucky.  You think about Hyunjin and your heart strains, recalling his final miserable departure.  Your father implied he had Hyunjin killed.  If he was not bluffing to antagonize you, then Hyunjin did not stand a chance.    

You are sniffling with tears when Jisung blinks awake.  He mutters in groggy gibberish before reaching for his glasses.    His tired voice is tinged with concern when he asks, “What is it?  Do you need something?” 

“No,” you say, wiping your tears.  “I was just thinking I know where I want to go next.” 

It is hard to talk about Hyunjin so you opt for vagueness over specificity.  The boys do not question the subject of the cabin when you mention his name.  You do not tell them he might be dead.  You feel like if you speak it out loud, it will make it true. 

It will take a week to reach the cabin by car.  Jisung helps you loads the necessities into the back a truck that Felix procured, only questioning its seeming manifestation after the fact. 

“I stole it,” Felix answers. 

“You stole a car?” Jisung asks.  It is a good thing the motel parking lot is empty because he practically shouts it, like stealing a car is the most horrifying thing he has ever heard.  You remember how you had the same reaction the first time Felix stole a vehicle. 

It makes you laugh when Felix draws his lips into a thin line, shaking his head at Jisung.  He turns to you and says, “You two really are identical, you know?”  

“What does that mean?”  Jisung asks. 

“I said the same thing the last time he stole a car,” you say.

“Dude!”  Jisung whips around.  “You stole two cars?”

“You know I’ve killed people, right?” Felix says dryly. 

“Well yeah, I mean, who hasn’t,” Jisung says with a nervous giggle. 

You whack him on the arm and shake your head.   “That’s not funny,” you say. 

“It’s a little funny,” he whispers while you roll your eyes. 

Though you want to keep him at your side, it feels selfish to ask Jisung to come with you.  He has a life here and he has already done so much to help you.  But he surprises you by emphatically volunteering himself, saying he at least wants to help get you there. 

“I don’t think I could just walk back into my normal life tomorrow like nothing happened,” Jisung says, tucking you under one arm.  “I don’t know what’s gonna happen next.  Can’t control it.  But I know where I want to be right now.  I’ll figure out the rest after.” 

So you take to the road, your destination a small cabin far away from your old life.  You stop along the way, at first for food and other necessities, mostly stolen by Felix, but then for pleasure when you drive through towns with interesting landmarks.   On the clearer nights, you sleep in the bed of the truck. 

You still do not stop for a real discussion.  You indulge the mental break while you can, all three of you taking the time to literally stop and smell the flowers on the journey. 

Bandages still need changing.  Stitches need minding.  The night before your anticipated arrival, you are in another motel room.  You and Felix sit in the small kitchenette, playing cards at the tiny table, while Jisung showers and goes about his nightly routine. 

You throw down a couple cards.  You look at Felix while he studies his hand.  The swelling on his face has gone down which is good for numerous reasons.  He has been wearing a baseball cap everywhere, the brim pulled low, to stop people from staring. 

There is a hard set to his shoulders.  It has been like that for a few days.  Even in your father’s house, there were moments Felix would soften, namely when he was curled up in your shared bed and the world seemed far away.  Maybe he cannot relax because the world is so immediate now.  It is strange that potential happiness can cause as much anxiety as its opposite.  Perhaps it is because it is so unfamiliar.  Your body only knows how to brace itself. 

Felix was raised for that express purpose.  Road trips and gardens and motel rooms was not in his training.  High school corridors and uniforms once baffled him, the mundanity of everyday life more exhilarating and frightening than a battlefield. 

You want to smooth his brow and soften his shoulders.  He sits like he is holding a breath and you want to draw it out of him.  A part of your stirs with arousal at the consideration, thinking how you could do that.  You have always found your humanity in that intimate space.  But you are both much too injured to try anything heavier than a kiss right now. 

This time, you reach across the table and touch his cheek, with no intention but a soft caress.  He blinks up at you, the cards forgotten.  You do not know what to say.  You just touch him.

He cups his hand over yours, holding it to his cheek.  He looks at your shoulder and other bruises.  It will take you a long time to heal, but nothing is infected.  You do not know how his injuries are faring because he will not let anyone look at them.  He claims he is fine.  You know he is not. 

“I love you,” you say.  “I swear it gets stronger every day.  Is that crazy?  Not a day goes by where I am not grateful for you, just as you are.”

He closes his eyes and swallows.  He nods. 

“I love you too,” he says in a soft, low voice. 

When Jisung leaves to get some dinner, Felix proves you wrong about lovemaking.  You are too injured for anything vigorous, but he can still lay you down, can still stretch alongside you.  He slips his hand beneath your waistband and touches you with long, careful strokes.   You unravel in his arms, your sore spots aching but the pain worth the pleasure.  You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and tug him down for a kiss.  You kiss him until he sighs and rests his forehead to yours. 

“Can I please see?” you ask. 

He finally acquiesces.  His scars are not too bad, more plentiful than painful.  He hisses but exhales when you kiss your way across a couple worse marks. 

“We’ll find a way to feel better,” you say, grazing your fingertips along his skin.  You recall what Jisung said, about how you did not have to deserve love, you just had to accept it.  “You don’t need to prove yourself anymore, Felix,” you say.  You dance your fingers down his bare chest to his waistband, kissing his shoulder as he sucks in a breath.  “Just be with me.  Let me love you.” 

“Always,” he says, dropping his head back as you touch him.  He cups the nape of your neck, squeezing lightly as you flick your wrist and stroke. 

You reach the cabin the next day.  It is late afternoon when you find the right place, passing a few other cabins before you find a quaint but charming one in the midst of a meadow.   The cabin itself does not flaunt much excess, but the meadow is flooded with flowers, a carpet of colour in the late afternoon light that makes it look like a something out of a fairy tale. 

The only problem is the smoke in the chimney.  The cabin is clearly occupied. 

“Is this the right place?”  Felix asks.  He and Jisung were admiring the meadow while you stared at the cabin, heart palpitating when you realized it was not empty. 

“It is,” you say. 

“Maybe it’s Hyunjin,” Jisung says. 

“It’s not.”  You close your eyes.  Hyunjin did not say anything about selling the property when you brought it up.  But, then again, there was a lot happening in that final exchange.  You made him promise he would try to get away if he could, but it might have been an empty platitude.  He knew he was going to die.  He knew you would never find out anyway. 

The distractions of the past week flutter into nothingness as you reckon with the grim reality of the world your father left behind.  You hang your head, swallowing hard. 

Jisung and Felix stare at you, their faces falling when they realize what you mean. 

“How?” Jisung asks. 

“My father chased him down,” you say.  “He used him.  He discarded him.  It’s what he does.” 

“What he did,” Jisung reminds you.  “And maybe Hyunjin got away.  We did!  That stupid hot weasel was a bitch but he was resourceful as fuck.” 

“Jisuuung,” you say, smacking his arm.

“What? I’m not speaking ill of the dead because he’s not dead,” Jisung argues.  “And if he was, he wouldn’t want me to suddenly be all fake and nice to him.   I annoy him.  That’s how I show my love.”  He kisses two fingers and waves it at the sky, then flips his middle finger too.  You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head.

Felix steps behind you and takes your hand.  He kisses your cheek. A breeze blows through his hair, his hat in his other hand. The three of you stand in the meadow for a time, looking at the flowers as you contemplate what to do next. 

The front door of the cabin opens.  You all turn.   An apology sits on your tongue, sorry for trespassing on someone else’s property.  The sight of you is no doubt disconcerting. Despite showers and meticulous first aid, you all look very rough, three obviously tired and run down people, a little dusty from the road and streaked with dirt from your hike to the cabin. 

You look at the person as they stand on the front stoop.  Your brow furrows and the apology disintegrates on your tongue, a bemused question poised to take it’s place.

“Minho?” is all you manage. 

You have not seen your first teenage crush in many, many years.  He looks older but not too different overall.  He is still very striking, even in his homey flannel and jeans, standing on the cabin stoop and looking at you with equal confusion. 

“Do I know you?” he asks, which makes sense.  You might have had a crush on him, but so did half the school.  He was a popular guy.  He knew Hyunjin but he only met you briefly. 

You want to tell him that.  You want to say you are friends with Hyunjin but you find it hard to say his name, especially with Minho gazing at you so innocently.  Why is he at the cabin?  Was he still friends with Hyunjin?  He likely does not know he is dead. 

You are spared your turmoil when Felix tugs on your arm, a sharp bid for attention.  You look at him, bemused, and he nods his head forward.  You look past Minho to the open cabin door as another figure steps into view. 

All that twisted pain unspools in your chest.  You nearly start sobbing in relief.

“Hyunjin!”  You ignore the surprised look on Minho’s face and run right past him.

Hyunjin is standing in the doorway, looking wary until he recognizes you.  Then his face breaks into a smile and those long limbs jump the porch steps.  You trample a few flowers that have grown over the path, meeting in an embrace amidst sprigs of lavender and vibrant hyacinths.   It is a very messy embrace, you and Hyunjin both forgetting you are injured.  You crash together only to yelp, your shoulder smarting and his bruised chest just as tender.  You laugh at each other then hug gently.  When your cheek touches his chest, your eyes water. 

“Am I dead after all?” you ask thoughtlessly, the beauty of the terrain and the embrace of your friend momentarily making you think so.    

Hyunjin laughs and shakes his head.  “I thought you were,” he says.  “It was all over the news.  I thought for sure—”

“I thought for sure you—”  You overlap with him, both of you laughing again.  “How did you get away?” 

“Nothing special,” Hyunjin says.  “I was being watched but they were waiting for final orders from your father.  Then word got out that he was dead so they just left.  I don’t know if they went to investigate or just abandoned post.  I didn’t stick around to find out. I packed my things and disappeared the first chance I got.” 

“We made a few stops on the journey over,” you say.  “I’m not surprised you beat us.” 

“I really thought you were—”  Hyunjin shakes his head.  “And that it was my—”

“It wouldn’t have been your fault anyway,” you say. 

“That’s what I told him,” Minho interrupts, his tone quippy but his lips quirked up in a smile.  He wiggles his fingers in a wave when you look at him.  “So you’re the friend,” he says.  “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m the friend’s friend,” Jisung says, skipping into the scene and waving at Hyunjin.  “Hey, man.  Missed me?” 

He is being playful but Hyunjin pulls him into a hug, very obviously surprising Jisung who almost falls right over.  Poor Jisung’s face goes red as a rose.  You remember his video about having a crush on his high school rival and can’t help but giggle into your palms. 

Felix puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling cordially at Minho.  “Hi,” he says. 

“This is Felix, my—”  You look at each other.  You lips move as you look for the right word.  Bodyguard is not strictly true anymore.  Boyfriend and partner sound so very mundane, but you realize that is what you are now.  “Boyfriend,” you say, feeling hot with embarrassment for no good reason.  You suspect the little things will have you flustered for some time. 

“Boyfriend,” Felix repeats, looking quite delighted for a second.  You are certain only you see the flicker of sadness that follows.  He blinks, his gaze faraway, but he covers it with another smile quickly enough.  “Nice to meet you,” he says. 

“I guess I’ll have to make a bigger dinner,” Minho says, playfully dry like the idea is a hardship, but smiling a knowing smile at Hyunjin, clearly very happy for him.  “Come on then.  Get inside already.  You’re crushing the tulips.” 

The cabin is one floor with a loft.  The main bedroom, kitchen and facilities are downstairs, some extra makeshift bedding thrown together in the small sitting area by the fireplace.  The upstairs loft is a small second bedroom, sparsely furnished with a mattress and blankets and little else.  The ceilings are low but the space is blessedly private.  You think it is some of the finest accommodations you have ever stayed in.   

You throw yourself on the mattress, curling up with a pillow and blanket.  Felix smiles and leans down to kiss the top of your head.  When he pulls away, you take his hand, regarding him imploringly. 

“Just gonna take a shower,” he says.  “Wanna clean up, yeah.”

You nod.  Even though you can see he is struggling with something, you let him go.  If he is not in the mood to talk, you will wait.  A shower will help him feel better.

He takes his bag and climbs back down the ladder.  You mean to wait for his return, but you feel such calm at finally reaching your destination.  The laughing voices of your friends float up to the loft, putting you even more at ease.  You release a breath and lay your head on a pillow.  The next thing you know, you are blinking awake.  The sky is a purpling pink, the day drawing to a close.  You can smell something cooking downstairs.  Your friends are still yammering away.  Hyunjin’s relentless giggles at Jisung’s goofy jokes makes you smile. 

You climb down the ladder and wander into the main room.  Felix was not upstairs but he is not with the others either.  He must have finished his shower a long time ago now. 

“Where’s Felix?” you ask, an edge of panic in your voice. 

“He’s just outside,” Minho says from behind the kitchen counter.  “He said he just wanted some air.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling a little foolish for panicking without reason.  “Right. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” Minho says, winking to comfort you.  You smile but nonetheless wrap your cardigan tighter around you, feeling a little embarrassed. 

Felix has been glued to your side for ten years.  Your instinct now panics in his absence, but you realize his absence is a good thing.  He does not need to be beside you at all times.  He is free to wander if that is what he wants.  You are glad he stepped outside for some air, rather than sitting over you. 

You step onto the small porch and look across the meadow.  You can see a shape sitting among the flowers at the edge of the field, looking down the slope to the park valley below.  You cross the flowers, minding where you step.  The breeze parts your cardigan and you tug it closed.  It is a somewhat clumsy walk overall.  Your last few steps are a proper stumble over a rock.  You miss it completely, distracted with what you find. 

Felix sits with his back to you.  You thought he was wearing a hat, but now you can see it is his hair.  He dyed it a shock of pitch black and trimmed the edges.  It is a messy, jagged cut that you will certainly have to fix later.  You suspect he did not spend much time looking in the mirror. 

“What’s this?” you ask.  “Is this why you wanted to stop at that drug store?”

Felix looks up at you.  The dark hair somehow makes his freckles stand out more.  He looks different but still very handsome.  You think you might be falling in love all over again, a little flushed inside as you sit beside him on the grass. 

“Yeah,” he says.  He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing up at the dark locks from beneath his lashes.  He sighs.  “And I don’t know why.  I just…” 

You put your arm around him, drawing him close to rest his head on your good shoulder.  He falls against you, breathing out again.  His shoulders droop, losing some of the tension that has plagued him. 

“I don’t know what to do now,” he says.  “I know this is all good, but I feel like I’ve done something wrong.  Like I’m not supposed to be here.  And I keep thinking about Chris.  How I—”  He rubs his face, then chokes tears.  “What am I supposed to do with all this life, especially when I couldn’t give him back his?” 

He cries properly now and you let him.  There is no right thing to say, not that you can think of, so you just hold him until he has expended the worst of his pain through his tears.  He takes a few shaking breaths before he sits upright, wiping his face.  You rub a circle on his back. 

“And you,” he whispers.  “It’s like, I feel everything all at once.  You call me your boyfriend and I’m happy, then I see you hugging Hyunjin and I think—he knows how to be a person.  I don’t know how to be anything.”

“Felix, you know Hyunjin is gay, right?” you ask.  You guarded that secret before but seeing as Minho is here at the cabin, you suspect Hyunjin is not keeping it secret anymore. 

Felix stutters on a shaking breath, looking momentarily confused. 

“Huh?  He is?” he asks, then gets a little weepy again, saying, “That’s nice for him.”

“Oh, baby,” you say.  You kiss his cheek and snuggle close to him, resting your head on his shoulder.  “I don’t know what to say.  I’m a mess too.  I don’t know how to do any of this right.  But I’m pretty sure grieving your friend makes you more of a person, not less.”  You look at each other.  You touch his cheek and stroke a thumb over his freckles.  You think you have them mapped by memory, every last dot.  “You’re not alone,” you say.  “I want to be with you when things are bad, not just when they’re good.  And you and me, we’ve known a lot of bad.” 

He laughs, his breath dancing over your lips with your proximity.  You smile fondly. 

“I think it’s time we feel some good,” you say.  “We’ll figure out what that means eventually.  Together.” 

He draws you close and kisses you, a sweet kiss that deepens.  You cuddle when the breeze blows a little harder, the evening chill creeping into the sunset.  Still, you do not move, sharing heat between you and sitting among the flowers until the pink has left the sky and a blue evening blurs into the purple wash. 

Minho sticks his head out the door to call you in for dinner.  You stand first and offer your hand.  Felix takes it, then kisses you one more time.  You walk back to the cabin, hand in hand.

Warmth wraps around you like a fuzzy blanket when you step inside from the cold.  Hyunjin and Jisung are playfully arguing at the table, Minho standing over them and yammering some nonsense back.  You and Felix smile at each other before joining them all at the table.  After he has served the portions, Minho sits as well. 

There is a moment of silence, everyone looking around the table at everyone else.  They all looked flushed with warmth and life, Hyunjin smiling and Jisung beaming at you.  Felix puts his hand on your knee under the table, squeezing softly.  You look at him with another smile, then a laugh, a sound of disbelief that resonates with everyone.  You are here, impossibly but truly.  You have no idea what happens now.   

“I’ll break the ice,” Jisung says.  “Because I have a confession, while we’re all here, and Hyunjin has his hot boyfriend cooking us a meal.  Hyunjin, my man, I’m sorry for being the dick of all dicks when we were in high school.”  Jisung lays a hand on his heart and dramatically makes his confession.  Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as your goofy friend continues, “Turns out having an arch nemesis is super gay.  And I was a stupid repressed bisexual who thought furiously staring at you for seven hours a day was a totally normal thing to do.  Sorry, man.  Congrats on the hot boyfriend, though.” 

“I’m not his boyfriend,” Minho says.  His elbow is on the table, chin in his hand.  He is grinning at Jisung. 

“Come again?” Jisung says. 

“Not his boyfriend,” Minho says, laughing.  “I’m his friend.  He was in trouble and asked for my help.  I’m a good friend so here I am, helping him get settled.  I’m actually married.”  He holds up his hand, proudly displaying a wedding band.  He giggles some more.  “He’s single, though.”  He gestures to Hyunjin. 

Jisung looks at Hyunjin who has gone very pink in the face.  He glances at Jisung and laughs, covering his mouth to try and contain it. 

“Oh.  Oh.  Oh.  Yeah.  Cool.”  Jisung scratches the back of his neck, then his brow, then his chin.  He taps the table and nods his head rapidly.  “Awesome,” he says.  “Well, I’m really glad we clarified that before I made a really ridiculous confession in front of everyone.  That would have been super embarrassing for me.”

You all laugh, genuinely as Jisung soaks it in with a silly little grin.  The sound of your collective delight fills the cabin before chatter begins again and you start eating. 

You glance around the table while taking a bite.  Your shoulder aches, and Felix’s bruises are still healing, and you will not be surprised if a nightmare jolts one of you out of sleep tonight.  But you will wake beside Felix, you will comfort each other, and you will fall back asleep.  You will wake up tomorrow and try it all again. 

You know the times ahead will not always be easy.   You are ready to make mistakes and try.

It is not a perfect ending, but it is a perfect beginning.   

[sevngmin148]

crying, this series was so fucking good

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 4 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 8k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @iweirdthingsblog @huachengsbestie01 @glintneon123

And a huge, huge thanks to my beta @daesukiii !!! Without them, this wouldn't be as good lol

Part 3 <; | > Part 5

***

A large crowd gathered at the pavilion in the middle of the lake. A man-made island, the tall white and red structure was usually the site for banquets, where the ruling monarch entertained guests. The only way on or off was the bridge crossing over the lake around the island, which fit three to four people abreast. Sookmyung’s palanquin barely fit through it, which meant you trailed behind the footmen carrying her across. Several nobles dressed in their finery turned their heads as their queen approached. Nobody cared about the handmaiden coming up behind her. 

"Announcing," the herald cried as his men drummed and blew their horns, "Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong, Duchess of Gyeonggi-do, and Protector of Korea."

The people bowed to her as she reached the pavilion steps, smiling proudly at them. You hurried to fix her long red and gold train before she noticed the wrinkles, and then followed a few feet away. All eyes remained on her until she reached the place of honor at a long table. Usually the royal advisors would be attending a function like this, hoping to put forward their own sons as suitors for the young queen. Yet, when you looked around, you saw not a single one in attendance. You supposed they may come later in the evening; they had important work to do. You did not see Queen Jisoo either, which you found odd considering she arranged this gathering. Sookmyung took her place amongst fellow ladies of the court, and you began serving her a small plate of food. 

"I'm not hungry," she told you right when you set it in front of her. "Bring me wine. I'm parched."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

It was the sort of royal gathering you expected: lords and ladies enjoying a rich spread of food and drinks, listening to musicians play and catching glances of the fish and birds around the scenic lake. You stood in the shadows behind Sookmyung most of the time, only approaching when she called for you. Seeing the other ladies in their silk and satin hanboks, their hair done up in expensive adornments and wearing fine jewelry on their wrists and fingers, you imagined yourself amongst them. You could sip fine wine while talking to other court ladies about who is courting who. You can flirt and dance with handsome lords all vying for your attention. But, that can only be a dream. 

You're nobody. You're a servant, a slave. You are not meant to have dreams at all. 

"It seems the old woman was right after all."

You felt a presence shift on your left and you turned to see a man dressed in black and gold standing nearby. You knew by his high voice and long hair that it was Hongjoong. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach at the sight of him so close to you. Out of all her flowers, Hongjoong is the one you’re forbidden to speak with. Immediately, you turned away from him. You knew better than to talk to her flowers. If she caught you, she'd lock you in her dungeon for sure. You remembered Lady Seulgi, and shuddered. Yet, Hongjoong did not leave your side. 

"Don't worry, I convinced one of the ladies to keep her occupied," he told you. You did not respond to him, too afraid your voice may carry to Sookmyung a few feet away. "You truly are frightened of her, aren't you?" 

You still did not speak, despite the urge to engage in the conversation. Hongjoong radiated a security and comfort not very common in people. Yet, Sookmyung’s presence kept your lips sealed together. What if there's a change in songs and she hears a whisper of conversation? What if she happens to turn around to see you? You tried thinking of a way to leave, but nothing came to mind. 

"You shouldn't be here," you muttered to him under the wave of music and chatter. "She is meant to be searching for a husband. If you’re here, she will be too distracted." And if she does not choose a husband by the end, Jisoo shall choose for her and that can only end badly. "I suggest you scurry off before she sees you."

"But why would I leave a party I was invited to?" He asked amusedly. 

"You were invited?"

"Yes, by Jisoo."

"Why would she invite you? That defeats the purpose of this entire thing then," you thought out loud. 

"Perhaps The Queen Mother wanted us to entertain someone else," he grinned playfully.

The tips of your ears burned at the grin. "Us?"

"The others came too."

"They didn't announce your arrival. You're supposed to arrive after her."

"I doubt she will complain about it," he said. "She hasn't even noticed we're here yet."

"She will if you keep standing there," you imagined what awful thing she'd do if she caught them here, "You all should leave before she sees you. It'll end badly for you if she does."

"YN," he said fondly, "Always thinking of others and never about yourself."

You turned to look at him, "Your meaning?"

"That you should worry about yourself a bit more," he explained simply. "She might favor you above most at court, or anywhere as a matter of fact, but you're not exempt from the dungeons."  

"That's partly the reason I'm telling you to leave," you hissed. "If she sees us speaking, she'll assume the worst and throw us both in there."

"'Partly'," he repeated. "Well, I have no intention of leaving, and neither do the others. We've been promised an exciting night." 

Another cryptic response. "Do not say you weren't warned. Enjoy the party."

You left his side to refill Sookmyung’s plate. You hoped distracting her with food gave him time to leave, and when you turned to check, he'd gone. 

"YN, tell the singers I hate this song," she told you over her shoulder. "Tell them I want them to play something more jovial, upbeat."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

You moved deftly through the crowd towards the musicians in the corner of the pavilion. That was when you noticed the guards. At most functions, you saw at least three or four, especially at an intimate gathering. Yet, as you walked, you spotted more than four. You saw several: two by the entrance, a man at each corner of the pavilion, three more patrolling the island area and four patrolling the outer banks. They stalked the grounds with swords sheathed on their belts. It unsettled you. Everything about the queen’s banquet seemed off. First, no advisors. Secondly, no Jisoo. Thirdly, concubines and lastly, a strong guard presence. You sensed a disturbance underneath the surface, watching and waiting to strike, and you didn’t know where it’d come from first. 

You reached the band of musicians, and told them Sookmyung’s request, which they obeyed immediately. When you turned around, you saw Wooyoung, San and Yeosang crowded together. Since anyone who values their life won’t speak to them, the three concubines talked to one another instead with drink cups in their hands. Hongjoong mentioned them being promised an exciting night. You wondered what it might be as you made your way back over to Sookmyung. Pleased at the change in song, she continued enjoying the company of the other ladies while you stood behind her. You stood by one of the pillars, your stomach growling from hunger and wishing Sookmyung let you leave. Then the herald called out in a booming voice, more drums and horns drowning out the musicians. 

"Announcing, Han Jisoo, Queen Mother of Hanseong."

People stepped aside and bowed as the queen moved through the crowd. You saw your mother pushing her from behind, neither speaking or smiling. However, Jisoo beamed and nodded at people she made eye contact with. Jisoo glowed with a kindness her daughter never inherited. You saw her in her olive green and white hanbok, her hair in a bun with a floral hairpin. She looked like a true queen, particularly when she was in front of Sookmyung, who tried hiding her hateful scowl. 

"Mother," Sookmyung stood, but did not bow, "I am so glad you managed to make it this evening. I thought your health might keep you."

"I wanted to be here to support my lovely daughter,” she said, being wheeled around to a place beside Sookmyung. “This is a very important night for her.”

“If it’s so important,” Sookmyung began when they both sat down, “Then why aren’t the old men here? I thought they’d want to see all their sons and nephews put themselves forward.”

“Don’t fret over them, love,” her mother replied, being served food by Chaewon. “They will be here soon.” She turned her head to see you nearby, and you bowed your head to her. Jisoo gave a look of concern, “YN, you look peckish. When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning, Your Majesty.” 

“But it’s been hours since then,” she said. “Come and eat, child. You’ll pass out if you don’t.”

Sookmyung snorted, “I remember the harvest festival when we were little. YN fainted in front of everybody and fell into a puddle of mud.” 

“A queen doesn’t laugh at the misfortune of others,” Jisoo scolded. “YN, come sit by me and eat.”

“She’s a servant,” Sookmyung argued, “She isn’t supposed to sit here with us.”

“She can because I said so.”

“I am the queen,” she retorted, “And YN listens to only me. YN, you stay where you are. I might have need of you.”

“And I am the Queen Mother,” Jisoo told you, “Come now.”

You looked between the two queens, and then to your mother worriedly. If you disobeyed Sookmyung, you’d receive a harsh scolding later. If you disobeyed Jisoo, you’d be hurting her feelings. Jisoo always seemed to favor you over the other palace servants. She went out of her way to make sure you’re properly cared for; she always offered you space in her home. You stepped forward carefully, and stood at the chair beside Jisoo. Your eyes flitted up to Sookmyung, who stared daggers into your face. By the amount of wine she’ll be having, perhaps she’ll be too drunk to properly punish you. She may even forget this moment if she finds a man she truly likes. Taking the seat, your mother serving you a hefty plate, you knew your hopes were too high. 

"I am sorry you had to witness that argument," Jisoo told you. "It will be the last time you do, I promise."

"It is nothing I am not accustomed to," you told her. You ate a bit of rice with savory meat and chewed quietly. "Sookmyung is very against the idea of marriage. She will not make it easy for you."

"And what about you, YN?"

"Your Majesty?"

"Sookmyung made a fair point, in her own twisted way," she began. "You are a beautiful young woman. You would have your pick of any man you wanted, yet you show no interest in it."

"I am far too busy to think about such things," you said. "The Queen takes up a good amount of my time."

'Sookmyung will never let me marry unless she chose them herself.'

"That's preposterous," she scoffed. She took a sip of tea your mother poured for her, and said, “Sookmyung has plenty of other handmaidens. Surely, she can tolerate them long enough for you to pursue any interests you may have.” She then gave a sly smirk, “You might even find someone favorable tonight.”

“Your Majesty, please,” you giggled with hot cheeks, “These are all men of nobility. Their families would never accept it even if a man did want me.” 

You didn’t dare mention they’ll likely take you as a concubine rather than a wife. 

“That may change after tonight.” Her eyes lit up when she spotted someone in the crowd, “Hongjoong looks particularly handsome tonight, don’t you think?”

“What?” You searched the crowd around to find him standing with Seonghwa and Yunho, the three men in deep discussion together. “Um, well, I suppose he does.”

“You suppose?” she furrowed her brow. “Put aside your fears for a moment, YN, and tell me what you truly think of him.” 

Your eyes finally met hers, seeing the sincerity in them, and you looked back at Hongjoong. While you both rarely spoke directly, he still showed care for you. Yesterday, he’d occupied Sookmyung for the day so you may spend time with your mother. He’d taken your place in the torture chambers, so you can sleep free of nightmares. Hongjoong might fear Sookmyung’s wrath like anyone else, but that seemed to fade in your presence. You knew the face underneath that veil: the short narrow nose, the prominence of his cheeks and soft lips. He’d been a prince once, and he still looked the part even now. He must’ve felt your stare, because his eyes glanced over to you and the room suddenly became warm. Seeing him there, you wished you could speak to him again. 

“He is everything a prince should be,” you whispered, not concerned if she heard you or not. “He is the sort of man you hear about in stories and songs: a chivalrous, courageous prince who comes to save the day. Even if we don’t speak, he shows his concern and care in different ways.” 

“If we speak technically, he is a king,” she noted. “His father is dead. His family is dead. Anyone with a claim to Wonju’s throne is deceased apart from himself.”

“Which is the precise reason Sookmyung covets him so much. She will never release him.”

“Let us not speak of the future as a fact,” she ate a few vegetables from her stew, and said. “The future can change in a single minute.”

“You speak as if you know something I do not,” you didn’t realize how accusatory that sounded until you’d said it. “Forgive me-”

“-Perhaps I do, little YN,” she smiled serenely, “Perhaps I do.” 

Drums sounded from the pavilion entrance, and the herald called out, “Chief Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik, with Advisors Kim Heechul, Park Taeyong, Do Daewook, and Jung Junhan.” 

All five of Sookmyung’s advisors walked into the pavilion to more head bowing. Wonshik walked ahead of them to Sookmyung’s table, and gave her a bow. 

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, “I am glad to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same, Your Majesty.”

The people sitting at Sookmyung’s table fell silent at once, even with the music continuing to play onwards. She kept her eyes directly on the elder, that familiar dislike showing on her face. You feared what might happen next. 

“What did you say?” she drawled, hands slowly curling into fists. 

“The council and I have been in discussion for some time,” he informed her. You saw the other advisors' stiff lips and stern faces. “We have argued back and forth and back and forth on this issue for several days, and finally we have all come to an agreement.”

“This is not the place to discuss politics, Advisor,” she said. “I am in the middle of a banquet, if you have not noticed.”

“I’m afraid this news cannot wait any longer. Han Sookmyung, by power invested in us by the people of Korea and The Crown, the Royal Council and I have declared you unfit to rule and have decided to strip you of your titles and crown.”

Sookmyung immediately shot up from her seat. Now, they had the full attention of everyone in the room. Every nerve in your body froze, and you braced yourself for what would happen next. 

“You cannot do that!” she howled. “I am the queen-”

“-Any fool who has to keep saying she is the queen is not a true queen,” Wonshik continued, unbothered by her temper. “As Master of Law, I will give Advisor Do the floor-”

“-You old bastards! I am part of the monarchy. I am a queen. You cannot arrest or depose me without just cause-”

“-According to paragraph three in section C3 of the Bill of Laws,” Advisor Do spoke, fixing the spectacles on his nose, “A monarch may be incarcerated if there is sufficient evidence that said monarch has committed crimes against the people. During your conquest across Korea, there are witness testimonies and hard evidence to prove Your Majesty committed several war crimes-”

“-You have no proof-”

“-These war crimes include,” he withdrew a scroll and he read out loud, “Intentional destruction and appropriation of property not justified by military necessity and carried out unlawfully. Intentional attacks against civilian populations. The torture and subsequent murder of prisoners of war; the taking of and enslavement of hostages. The murder of combatants who’d laid down their arms or have no means of further defense-”

“-These don’t apply to me! I am the ruler! I decide-”

“-The penalty for these crimes is the immediate removal from office, as well as stripped of all lands and titles-”

“-I decide what laws go into place! I decided who is charged and who isn’t-”

“-The Royal Council decides which laws are passed,” Wonshik intervened. “Your grandfather put this into practice before you were born, and it still stands today. Your Majesty was always welcome to take her place on the council and come to terms with us, but you felt that beneath you. Due to the crimes Advisor Do has just read, Her Majesty, Queen Sookmyung, shall be placed under arrest-”

“-What?!-”

“-Until such time as she is tried in a court of law and properly sentenced-”

The guards you’d seen before came forward to Sookmyung’s seat. She looked at Wonshik, unafraid of the men coming her way, “I am the queen. I am King Siwon’s only heir. Who could you possibly replace me with?”

“That is easily resolved.” It was Jisoo who spoke, and Sookmyung rounded on her. 

“How? What, you will sit on my throne? You are the King’s widow. You have no right or claim to my throne.”

“I might not, but your sister does.”

“My sister?” she asked in disbelief, “What sister? I have no sister!”

Chaewon turned Jisoo to face her daughter, “Yes, you do. Your father and I kept this information from court to avoid a succession crisis upon his death. But, seeing what you’ve become and the violence and destruction you’ve dealt out, I think it was a mistake to keep her hidden this entire time.”

“Who is she?” she glared at Jisoo, and you worried she might hit her. “Where is she? I’ll run her through!” She grabbed a knife from the table, and held it out at Jisoo. Sookmyung began looking about the room as if she expected this secret heir to appear from the shadows. “Who is she? Who?!” The guards drew out their own swords, ready to fight if she resisted. You remembered all those years in the training yard. Sookmyung is far too good with weapons for one’s liking. Jisoo, however, was not afraid of the blade in front of her. “Where is she, you snake?!”

“She’s right behind me,” Jisoo shrugged. 

A gasp escaped your throat, and Sookmyung turned to you. Nervously, you searched for anyone behind you but you quickly realized she meant you. You looked over to your mother. 

“Mother?”

“YN?” Sookmyung spoke before your mother, and said, “That’s ridiculous! YN is a lowly servant’s daughter. She’s not a princess, let alone a queen. If she was my twin sister, she’d look like me.”

“You’re fraternal twins,” Jisoo explained. 

“Fraternal…” she breathed out the word, her eyes landing on you. “Why…Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know!” you squeaked. “I swear, Your Majesty, I didn’t know! I am as surprised as you!” 

And equally embarrassed. All eyes landed on you once the words were spoken, and you wanted to run and hide. Everyone stood in complete shock and awe. You saw some people whispering behind their hands, and others awkwardly looking away from you. 

“Liar!”

“Guards!”

Sookmyung lunged for you, knife raised in the air, before a guard stood in her way. Her eyes never left yours. Nothing but scorching hate burned within her brown eyes, that primal need to unleash her fury making her more and more desperate to reach you. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears, and you couldn’t stop your feet from taking you backwards. You’d walk all the way to the city and beyond if nobody stopped you. 

“YN…” 

His voice, low and deep, reached you right as your back bumped into his front. Seonghwa. You knew from the voice alone. Warm hands squeeze your biceps tenderly to keep you in place. 

“You little bitch!” Sookmyung screeched, “I will get you! I will get all of you! You will rue the day you tried taking my crown from me!”

Two guards took her by the arms, but they did not act quickly enough. Sookmyung pushed one of them away, and unsheathed the dagger from his belt. Stabbing it into his chest, panic went throughout the room as Sookmyung shoved him to the floor and turned on his comrade. Seonghwa stood in front of you, so you only heard the commotion going on several feet away from you. 

“Seonghwa, get YN out of here,” Jisoo ordered. 

“Come, YN.” 

He took your arm and started leading you away. You looked over your shoulder to see Sookmyung’s wig casted onto the floor and the overcoat of her hanbok discarded onto the ground. In the distance, you saw Sookmyung fighting off guards with a stolen sword. You’d never seen her in battle, but you’d seen her in the training yard in her youth. Sookmyung cut through men easily, using her hands and feet to keep them back. Then, you realized some of the guards did not fight her, but rather aided her. Soldiers fought as Sookmyung made her way out of the pavilion. When a lord tried stopping her, one of the guards cut him down to give her a clear path. As you ran across the bridge leading to the south, Sookmyung ran to the one leading towards the north where she fought men guarding the lake side. Seonghwa lifted you up onto a horse awaiting you by the bridge, and Sookmyung had the same idea on the opposite side. You gasped audibly when she stabbed the rider and took his steade. 

As you began riding with Seonghwa, you worried Sookmyung might chase after you. Everything in your body turned numb, and the only thing you felt was fear. You listened for more clopping hooves, and faint threats carrying through the air. You expected her to pull up beside you, sword in her hand, and the blade swishing at you and Seonghwa. Yet, as you crossed over another bridge to the southern part of the palace grounds, you realized she must’ve retreated. 

“We’ve been betrayed,” you heard Seonghwa curse to himself. “They said they’d be on our side.” 

“Seonghwa, what’s going on?” you asked him. 

He didn’t answer you, but instead rode towards the concubine residency. No guards stood at their posts nor any servants lingering nearby. Seonghwa dismounted first, then helped you off the horse before leading you into the house. Once you both entered the main room of the house, it felt as if the world was shut out. You walked into the middle of the room, replaying the events in your head. 

You’re a princess? Impossible. King Siwon could not be your father. Park Hyungshik had been your father. He’d been a stablemaster, handling the King’s horses for him. He’d died from pestilence when you were twelve, the sickness nearly taking your life as well before you recovered. Queen Jisoo could not be your real mother. Park Chaewon was. She’d nursed you in infancy, cared for you and loved you unconditionally. It sounded insane. If you were a princess, then you would’ve worn crowns and worn pretty dresses and danced with handsome lords. Not standing by Sookmyung’s side as she tortured and murdered people. 

“YN?” Seonghwa’s voice couldn’t pull you from your thoughts. 

King Siwon separated you to avoid a succession dispute? Why would there be one? If you and Sookmyung were twins, surely the council would have chosen the elder over the younger. Then, you remembered the crimes the council charged Sookmyung with and understood.

You studied the law and judicial system more than Sookmyung did. Everything Advisor Choi and Advisor Do said was true. The council had the power to remove the current monarch if they had just cause, and in Sookmyung’s case, they certainly had one. Hearing her crimes be listed out loud brought them into perspective for you. She’d raped, tortured, and killed so many people. She’d put entire villages to the torch, spreading fear and oppression throughout the kingdom. She continued to harm her subjects through her high taxation on the poor, causing many of them to go hungry or turn to unsavory means to avoid it. You’d hoped one day she may be stopped, but you never imagined yourself taking her place. 

“YN,” Seonghwa called to you again, coming up behind you, “Are you alright?”

“No,” you answered. Sookmyung will not let this ‘betrayal’ stand. She will come for you and anyone else involved in this coupe. “Where did she go? Did you see where she went?”

“She was running towards the northern gates,” he said. “I imagine she plans to escape that way, and if what I suspect is true, she’ll manage to get out of the city by the morning.” 

You looked out a nearby window to see the sun already setting. Footmen already lit the braziers around the grounds, and you saw lights inside the various buildings being lit. You did not have a view of the pavilion from the garden house, but you saw floods of lords and ladies being escorted by their retainers off the premises. Several palace guards moved quickly throughout the grounds, hands on their swords as they searched for the runaway queen. No doubt they’ll set up groups of men to go into the city soon. That won’t stop Sookmyung. She’ll find her way back into the palace, and if she had help, she’d find you for sure. 

“She’ll find me,” you said, keeping the trembling out of your voice. “She’ll find me, torture me and then kill me.”

“No, she won’t,” he assured you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “I wouldn’t let her.”

“As if that would stop her,” you rolled your eyes. Watching men moving past the house, you pictured her lying in wait in the bushes. You saw her waiting until dark to sneak into your bedroom, and plunge a knife in your throat. “She’ll never give up. Never. When she manages to get her throne back, she’ll punish every single person she deems responsible for this. It is stupid. It is foolish and in vain.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said. Gingerly, he turned you to face him and you tensed in his embrace. Thoughts of Sookmyung’s fury made you step away from his touch. “She is not the queen anymore,” he told you, sensing your hesitancy, “She holds no power.”

“Yes, she does,” you told him. “Just because the council has dethroned her does not mean the people outside these walls know of this. It will take days to inform the dukes of the other cities, and by then, Sookmyung will have likely sought refuge with one of them. There may even be a simple farming family who shelters her because they’re under the impression she is queen.” You envisioned the very scenario, and it only ended with blood and tears. “Nobody is going to accept a new queen, especially one who was the former queen’s handmaiden. I mean..” you took a deep breath, “I am no queen. I am not royalty. I am a small, simple woman who walks next to palanquins and serves other people and takes care of everyone and everything and-”

“-You may not have been raised as a royal, but you are one,” Seonghwa interrupted you. “Word will spread after tonight. It is why the council confronted her in front of the entire court instead of somewhere private. People like to talk, and they’ll talk about how Sookmyung was deposed and her handmaiden is actually her secret sister.” 

“And they will say that I am not a queen and will likely try to put someone else in my place.”

“The only people who can truly make that decision are the advisors,” he said, “Nobody else.” 

He stepped forward again, his hand sliding across your jaw and cupping it. Sookmyung would’ve flogged you both for such a gesture. When you tried moving away, he kept you still. 

“The people may not know you, but I do,” he began. “You are a kind, generous, compassionate person. You sympathize and empathize with others. You always try to do what is right and protect as many people as you can.”

“I cannot protect anyone.”

“You’ve tried, and that counts. The other servants used to talk about how you maneuvered Sookmyung’s anger to keep her from harming others-”

“-I wasn’t always successful,” you admitted sheepishly. “She could be hard to handle when she is seriously upset.”

“But you managed. Also, it isn’t as if you’re a complete fool. You can read, write and do arithmetic. You know the politics, the law, and culture.” He gave a soft smile, “You should not doubt yourself so much. You are capable of great things, YN, and you’ll have people there to guide you along the way.”

You shook your head and moved away from him and the window. “No, no, this is insane,” you kept shaking your head, “There’s no way. This must be a trick or a joke.”

“Why would it be a trick?”

“Sookmyung likes to play games. This would just be another elaborate game for her to play on me,” you nervously wiped your palms on your skirt, “She’ll come back, laugh at me for reacting this way, and then tell me that ever dreaming of being more than what I am is pointless. It is the sort of thing she’d do. Yes, and being one of her ‘flowers’, you’d be forced to be in on the game.”

“YN, this is not a trick or a game. You truly are Jisoo and Siwon’s child; you are an heir to the Han dynasty-”

“-No, I’m not. No. I’m not falling for it,” you crossed your arms and plopped down onto a sofa. “I’ll sit here and wait for her to come and laugh at me like she always does.”

“YN-”

“-YN!” 

Your mother came rushing into the house, her footsteps thumping lightly until she reached the beaded curtain. She saw you sitting on the sofa and gave a sigh of relief. 

“YN, there you are!”

She knelt in front of you, cradling your face and checking for any injuries. You looked at her. You truly looked at her now. You tried finding a scrap of yourself in her face; you thought about your father’s face and did not find resemblance there either. Not in the nose, eyes, lips, ears, cheeks, neck, or body. Nothing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked her softly. “Why didn’t you tell me that Queen Jisoo was my real mother and not you?”

Chaewon’s eyes filled with guilt. Her shoulders sagged and she stopped touching you. You saw the conflict going on in her mind, a struggle between honesty and lies. She sat beside you on the sofa, and held your hand gently. 

“I think that is a conversation for later,” she told you. “A lot of things have happened very quickly, and you must be very confused right now.”

“Exactly, so please explain the first part to me: how can I be a daughter of King Siwon, and not know it until this very day?” you demanded. 

Chaewon looked over at Seonghwa, the discomfort clear on her face. She stayed silent for a moment before she said, “Because we didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“The Queen and I,” she answered. “Well, us two, Siwon, and Wonshik. Like what Jisoo said, Siwon had seen kingdoms be torn apart by a dispute over succession and he knew having two twin daughters may cause that. He’d planned to send you far away into the countryside where nobody would see you, but Jisoo pleaded for you to stay in the palace.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t want to be away from you. She wanted to see her daughters grow up together.” 

“Why did she pick you?”

“Because she and I have been together since our girlhood in Daegu,” she explained. “We both suffered from similar fertility issues after our marriages: she had a delicate womb; Hyungshik did not produce enough sperm for a pregnancy. When you and Sookmyung were born, and Siwon declared there can only be one, she offered you to me.” Your mother smiled warmly, taking both your hands in hers, “And Hyungshik and I loved you as if you were ours all along. The moment I held you in my arms, YN, I felt as if you were meant to be mine. It was as if the gods intended on giving you to me."

"You could have told me at any time."

"And what good would it have done then?"

"That perhaps we might not be in this situation at all," you reasoned. "The king and queen both saw what kind of person Sookmyung was; they saw her viciousness and callousness and still allowed her to be queen.”

“They believed she may grow out of it-”

“-Grow out of it?” you huffed. “What could possibly make them think that? Sookmyung used to chase around the palace cats and hang them from trees. She used to start fires in the stables and tormented her nurse. She only started paying attention in studies when she was told she’d be the queen one day. Do you know why she wanted to train in the yard with the men? Hm, do you?” you couldn’t keep the anger from rising in your voice. “Because then she’d learn how to kill people. She’d learn how to hurt people in the most efficient way. It did not occur to them then that perhaps their eldest child is not fit for rule? All this pain and torture and murder could have been prevented if her parents stepped out of their delusion and saw her as she truly was.”

You pictured every person Sookmyung ever tortured. Their faces haunted your dreams and kept you awake some nights. The stench of blood, bile, and other fluids clung to your nose even when outside the dungeons. They did not know. Her family never knew her true nature. Queen Jisoo might’ve suspected or been told by others, but she’d never seen it. You’d seen everything. You shut your eyes as visions of men being impaled on pikes across a battlefield came to you.

“No parent ever wants to admit their child’s faults,” your mother told you gently. “It was not until she came into rule that Queen Jisoo saw her daughter for who she is.”

“Someone should have said something,” you said, “Someone should have told me.”

“To tell you would be telling Sookmyung,” she soothed you, running your braid through her hands delicately. “You saw what she did to the other claimants. I never thought…YN, you must believe me, I never thought this day would come.”

“Did you ever plan on telling me? Ever?”

“Your father wanted to tell you,” she admitted, “When he was dying. We both thought you’d join him, so he wanted you to know the truth, but I disagreed. I feared telling you the truth would worsen your condition at the time.”

“I feel it now regardless of my health.”

“I know, and I do not expect you to forgive me right away. I only want you to know that I did this for your safety. Even if they did not want to admit it, I knew Sookmyung as well. If she learned you were her sister, she would’ve tried killing you at some point, and she proved that today.” 

Because she believed you’d betrayed her. The room felt hot. You realized then Seonghwa still stood nearby, listening even if he pretended otherwise.  

“Please, you must understand,” your mother pleaded. “We did what we thought was best at the time. None of us knew what Sookmyung would turn out to be later on in life, but we knew if Siwon died and had two heirs instead of one, things could be ugly very quickly.”

“Obviously it would have been Sookmyung. She was the elder of the two of us.”

“But anyone who saw her grow up would’ve petitioned to have you take her place,” she said. “Purists would say Sookmyung is the rightful heir, and Realists would say you are the appropriate heir. It would’ve caused chaos and uncertainty. It’d been during a very tremulous time in the kingdom: we’d recently gotten out of a war with a nearby nation, and were recovering from the financial losses. Siwon did not want to see his kingdom plunged into war.”

“And look how that turned out,” you said, playing with the red threaded ornament attached to your hanbok. On the red loop was a golden medallion with a crane etched into it. Sookmyung gifted it to you after her first victory. “It led to Sookmyung creating her own war in an attempt to seize control of the entire country; power and control she already had as the ruling monarch. It left us in a country depleted of hope and peace led by a madwoman who pulled out fingernails for fun.”

“We admit that we made a mistake,” Chaewon answered, “You’re right. We should never have lied to you. It is something we both deeply regret.”

“Yes, particularly in light of recent events.”

Your mother put her hand on yours, grasping the ornament. “We know it will take time for you to fully soak all of this in, so we do not expect immediate forgiveness from you. But, I want you to know that even if I didn’t carry you myself,” her hands went around yours, “I still love you as if I did. The moment you opened your eyes, YN, I knew you were mine.”

“Would you have told me?”

“If circumstances had been different, I would have.” 

You had difficulty believing her. If she lied about this, what else is she lying about? 

“YN, are you alright?” 

It was Jisoo, followed by Wonshik and the other advisors, all of them concerned. You turned from your hiding space to see them all standing by the door, watching you from afar. When you saw Jisoo, you couldn’t see her being your mother either. The only traces captured in her features was Sookmyung, her trueborn daughter. Then, you thought back to King Siwon. He’d stood lean and broad even in his old age. Thinking back to the warm, wrinkled face that always smiled at you, you saw yourself. You saw bits and pieces of yourself in that face. 

“I look more like him,” you said without thinking. 

She nodded, “Yes, you do. I used to tell him that whenever I saw you both together.” She wheeled herself closer to you, “Forgive me, YN. I did not want to keep this from you, but my husband forbade it. You must understand we did this to prevent war and-”

“-Sookmyung brought war and devastation on us,” you argued with her. “I don’t see how keeping my birth a secret prevented anything. If anything, it has made things worse.” 

“Yes, we see our mistakes now,” she faltered. “I’d seen it for a long time, but not Siwon. He had trouble admitting that he’d made a mistake in separating you both. I wanted to tell you, YN. We should have told you, and dealt with the consequences afterwards. This is the time to correct those mistakes.”

“You told Hongjoong and I that the other dukes would be on our side,” Seonghwa stepped in, looking at Wonshik. “I am not sure if you noticed, a few of them took up arms against us instead of with us.”

“Yes, it appears we’d been betrayed,” Wonshik nodded. “Sookmyung might’ve already known a coupe would be staged, but the shock of YN being her sister distracted her long enough for us to act.”

“Do we know who went over?”

“The Dukes of Daegu, Gongju, and Ulleungdo, as well as their bannermen,” Advisor Jung, a stern looking man with a balding head and long mustache and beard, spoke up. “I told Wonshik that trusting Daegu and Gongju would be a mistake. They benefited the most when Sookmyung took power, and know their continued wealth counts on her being on the throne. Ulleungdo was a surprise, though. They typically stay out of wars.”

“The son of Ulleungdo recently married the duchess of Daegu,” Jisoo told him. “They will need a proper fleet, and Ulleungdo has dozens of longships.”

“How did they find out?” exclaimed Advisor Heechul, a rotund man with salt-and-pepper hair. 

“Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow, gentlemen?” Jisoo intervened. “Her Majesty has learned far too much too quickly. She needs time to process these new changes.”

“It is important to act now, Your Majesty…”

‘Her Majesty’. They meant you when they said this. Not Sookmyung. Despite all the little fantasies you had, you never believed it would happen. You couldn’t possibly be a real princess, but the longer you sat there amongst these people, it sounded more plausible. It explained why the king and queen treated you so well. You saw the other servant girls learning practical skills such as cooking, sewing, cleaning and washing. You sat beside Sookmyung learning languages, geography, arithmetic, philosophy, and culture. You’d never cooked anything before or needed to sew. It was the other household servants who did that; you merely managed them. King Siwon showed particular interest in you. He even called you affectionate pet names. 

‘How is our little blossom today?’

‘Don’t wander too deep into the forest, okay sunshine? We don’t want you and Sookmyung getting lost.’ 

Queen Jisoo showed you nothing but kindness and concern. She appeared happier when she saw you in comparison to when she saw Sookmyung. You must be special to them, and what other reason do they have outside of being their child? You felt yourself stand up from the sofa, and begin walking away. They want to make you a queen. Your feet carried you throughout the harem, bypassing bedrooms and sitting rooms until you reached the outdoor veranda over the garden pond. Night time came over the garden fully, with the lit lanterns resembling stars amongst the dark trees and bushes. 

You spent your whole life believing Chaewon and Hyungshik were your parents. If you’d learned you’d been adopted from an orphanage or given to them by relatives, you might understand it better. You may not feel so bad. But learning your birth parents are a king and queen, and you are a princess worsened the shock. You gripped the wooden railing tightly, your fingers pressing into the painted wood as you imagined Sookmyung learning of this. It stunned her, and angered her like most surprises had done. You knew Jisoo and your mother were right: if you’d grown up as sisters, you wouldn’t be standing here. But, then you’d have grown up prepared to ascend the throne. 

“YN?” you recognized Seonghwa’s voice again, but felt nothing for it. 

You did not know the first thing about being a monarch. Yes, you might have come up with solutions to problems you heard from citizens, but you had no power to carry them out. You didn’t understand politics or diplomacy or sword fighting like Sookmyung did. You are a servant, a follower of people higher than you; you’re not a queen. You’re not a leader. 

“YN,” he took light steps over towards you, “I know this is far too much to take in at the moment. You must be so confused. I’ll admit, I felt the same when the Queen Mother and Advisor Wonshik told me of their plan.”

“Why would they tell you?”

“Well, I suspect they hoped I’d be of some use to them,” he stood beside you and looked out over the water. “My father was Park Jiwoon. He was the Senior Advisor to The Duke of Haeju for years. Before Sookmyung killed the ruling family and installed loyal lackeys to the seat, my father counseled the duke in all manner of politics. My father was brilliant. It’d been him who’d suggested that it be a council that makes the laws alongside the duke, instead of giving the monarch ultimate power."

He saw your worried expression. Your eyes fell closed when he gently touched your cheek, and made you look at him. He's beautiful. Undeniably beautiful. Round eyes gazed into yours lovingly, glancing down to your lips before looking back up. He was Sookmyung's, you thought. He's hers. Not yours. None of them could ever truly be yours. Especially not Seonghwa or Hongjoong. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, and he stood closer to you before the sound of wheels running over wood broke you apart.

Jisoo appeared with your mother. They both stopped when they saw you and Seonghwa alone. Neither woman said anything, and Seonghwa bowed his head.

"I must go speak with the advisors," he said. He gave you one more fleeting look, "Goodnight, Your Majesty."

It was when he'd gone out of earshot that you said, "I've only been a monarch for less than an hour and I already hate that. I'm not a queen."

"This is our chance to make things right," Jisoo said, continuing your conversation from inside. "The people need a leader who is compassionate, generous and caring. They need someone who understands their struggles, and would do their best to relieve them. You are that someone, YN, whether you believe it or not. There is a reason I ordered you to be tutored alongside Sookmyung.”

“I hardly remember any of those lessons now," you scoffed. "They weren’t important to me-”

“-Name the five major clans of Korea.”

“What?” you finally looked over at her. 

“Name the five major clans,” she repeated. “There is the royal family, the Han clan. Who are the other four?”

“Kim, Park, Choi and Jung,” you answered. 

“Han controls the middle plain region,” she said, coming up beside you, “Who controls the west, east, north, and south?”

“Kim controls the west, Choi controls the east, Park controls the south, and Jung is in the north.”

“What are their principal exports?”

“Clan Kim is famous for their gem and gold mines, as well as their silk and cloth fields,” you said. “Clan Choi are known for their expansive seafood industry, while Clan Park send spices and wines from their vineyards and fields in the south. Jung sends lumber, paper and stone blocks for building.”

“Sookmyung did not know that.”

“Of course she did.”

“She pretended to know,” Jisoo informed you. “I knew that because she never attended council meetings. Sookmyung only went to meetings when it concerned her money or her power. She did not know how to bring peace to people, or how to maintain it. I think you can do it.”

“I know you can do it,” your mother said, coming up beside you at the railing. When you did not reply, she continued, “You do not need to make a decision tonight-”

“-Chaewon-” Jisoo said incredulously, but your mother ignored her. 

“-Take your time with this. It is a big decision and there are more to come.” She put her arm around your shoulders and hugged you, “Let us take this one day at a time, hm?”

“I’d like that.”

You allowed her arms to comfort you as they’d done your entire life. Basking in the warmth and scent of her, you could not find it in you to think anymore. Jisoo decided you’d stay in the harem where there’d be plenty of people to watch over you until Sookmyung is apprehended. You couldn’t find it in you to care. Seonghwa offered you his chambers for the night, but you politely declined. You took the spare room, which was oddly untouched by anyone else. You undressed yourself, thinking about what you would be doing now if nothing happened. You’d be undressing Sookmyung instead, and leaving her in a warm bath while you turned down her bed. After applying creams and salves to her body, you’d help her into bed and make sure the room remained warm through the night. 

Instead, you stripped to your undergarments and took up the black silk robe left on a chair. Sookmyung’s robe. You recalled every time you slipped it over her shoulders, and tied it because she could not be bothered to dress herself. Tossing it aside, you slid into the bed amongst the soft sheets. Sleep likely will not come, but you’d force it to. If you slept, perhaps when you woke up tomorrow it'd have been a dream. 

An awful, confusing dream.

***

A/N: oooh the drama!! Thanks so much for the support and love you're giving this fic <3 it's my baby lol thanks also for being so patient with these chapters. I'm not going through the best time, but I wanted to put out something for you guys <3 hope you like this one

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 3 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 6k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @raviollirin

Part 2 < | > Part 4

***

The palace temple was built by the first King of Hanseong, one of Sookmyung’s ancestors, many years ago. Walking through the temple’s zen garden, a small pond area guarded by stone statues of gods, Hongjoong and Seonghwa did not meet anyone during their walk. Hardly anyone visited the palace temple anymore, and since Sookmyung did not care about it, the area became overgrown by wildlife and dense foliage. Both men struggled to find the path at times, and once or twice one of them ran into garden snakes. But, eventually they saw the stone and wood structure in the middle of a clearing. Hongjoong saw a stone buddha statue eroded by age and weather in front of several kneeling cushions on the ground. The place overall carried a tranquil silence that he worried might break at the slightest sound. He’d expected they’d be alone, but he’d been wrong. 

Sitting in her usual wheelchair, Queen Mother Jisoo sat with her hands folded over her lap and head bowed in prayer. On a cushion beside her was Chaewon, her handmaiden. This sudden appearance of Sookmyung’s mother raised their suspicions. The small offerings placed in front of the statue implied she visited often, and she appeared entirely at peace. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa, and saw the caution in his eyes. They walked slowly and quietly behind the two women, taking their own cushions and sitting in silence. Hongjoong wondered how long the pair planned to be here. What if their contact backs away because he saw Jisoo and Chaewon? Then, he’d never learn of their plan. He’d considered leaving and waiting in the bushes before another figure joined them. 

Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik. He came unaccompanied this time, in his usual official robes and gat. A quick glance to them with a bow was returned before he took a cushion beside Hongjoong. Another person to scare off his contact. Hongjoong had given Seonghwa a look before Jisoo spoke first. 

“What do you pray for, Hongjoong?” 

Jisoo’s voice broke the garden’s tranquil silence, as soothing as the water falling into the pond nearby. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at one another, then at Wonshik, who smiled serenely with his head bowed. Chaewon showed a similar expression, not looking over at him or anyone else. He thought about what he could possibly say to Sookmyung’s mother. It’d be wrong to tell her ‘your daughter’s downfall’ out loud and to her face.

“For home,” Seonghwa said from beside him.

Hongjoong whipped his head over to him, but Jisoo spoke first. “As do all of us,” she beckoned Chaewon to stand, and the woman moved to turn her chair around and face them. The lines around her mouth and her eyes showed signs of a woman who’d laughed and lived well. Her eyes, while similar to Sookmyung, did not hold viciousness but rather warmth. 

She smiled at them both, “This country is my home. I spent many years of my life dedicated to leaving it better than when I first came into power. I pray for its safety and wellbeing every morning, afternoon, and night. I pray that the crops will be fruitful this harvest, and that we will never see another war or famine again. My prayers are the only thing left to me since my daughter was crowned queen.”

“It is the only thing many of us have left,” added Wonshik. “I pray for strength,” he told them, “And for patience. I pray that one day the dignity of The Crown is restored, and that when people see our banners, they do not cower in fear but instead feel comforted.”

“I pray for the good health of the people,” said Chaewon, “And for the protection of my daughter, YN.”

“As we should,” said Wonshik.

Suddenly everything made sense. He looked over at Chaewon, then Wonshik, then at Jisoo.

“We may speak plainly,” Jisoo declared. “I told the guards to leave this place, and this temple has been banned since Sookmyung became queen. This means you can remove those ridiculous veils and let me see your handsome faces."

Tentatively, Hongjoong and Seonghwa removed their veils and Jisoo beamed brightly at them. She examined Seonghwa first, clearly admiring his jawline and wide eyes. Hongjoong saw her nod her head in approval. 

"Just as handsome as you are intelligent," she concluded. "One might have thought you'd been sculpted by gods if they saw you." 

Seonghwa bowed his head appreciatively. She did the same with Hongjoong, studying his features closely. His cheeks blushed being observed like a painting or statue sold at auction. He looked over to Wonshik, who appeared to be doing the same from where he sat. But, it was Chaewon who spoke.

"He looks like a true prince, doesn't he, Your Majesty?" She grinned fondly. 

"No, not a prince," Jisoo said. She met his eyes when she said, "A king." 

Her words left him speechless. He eyed her closely, searching for a lie in her face. This woman is Sookmyung’s mother; her being part of a resistance against her sounded too good to be true. Hongjoong never knew Jisoo to scold or criticize her daughter. More often than not, she remained neutral and kept to herself in the palace. Seeing The Queen Mother was rarer than seeing a concubine. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to depose her own child. When she moved away, he spoke. 

“What did we meet here for?” he asked her, “To talk of prayers? Changbin’s message mentioned another heir.”

“How can that be?” Seonghwa asked after him. 

“Sookmyung has a twin sister.”

The news shocked the two men. “A twin?” Hongjoong furrowed his brow, “Where? How? If there is someone walking around with Sookmyung’s face, then they would’ve been found before now.” 

“I married King Siwon when I was nineteen-years-old,” she started. “Being the King, Siwon had a multitude of responsibilities. I only had one: to produce heirs for the throne. I’m sad to say it was the only thing I could not do. Siwon and I spent five years of our marriage trying for a child, and failing. Every pregnancy I did have never carried to term or came out ill and died or was a stillborn,” Hongjoong saw the discomfort in her face speaking about it. “I felt like a failure. I loved Siwon, and I knew how much he wanted a child, and I’d disappointed him. Those snakes at court began whispering that perhaps I was barren or I had a disease preventing me from having a healthy child. I had to do something. I knew if I failed to produce an heir, they might demand an annulment and Siwon and I would be separated forever.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I prayed,” she answered. “I prayed right here in this temple. Chaewon was there,” she lifted a hand which Chaewon took in her own, “And she prayed with me. I prayed for fertility, for a healthy child, and to bring honor to my family. The next time Siwon and I made love, a month later I was declared pregnant. I spent most of my pregnancy bed ridden, since I feared the slightest movement might make me lose the child inside me. The physicians checked on me night and day, giving me herbal teas and acupuncture treatments for the baby. It was a painful experience, but Siwon said the result would be worth the struggle.” She then said, “Then, on the fourteenth night on the eighth moon twenty-four years ago, I finally gave birth to my child. She came into the world crying and screaming, and by all accounts was perfectly healthy. I’d done my duty to my family, and I’d finally gotten the one thing I’d always wanted: a child.

“But then, I felt another pain and the physician said I was going into labor again. Out came a second girl, quieter than the first and whimpering softly, but also completely healthy. Siwon saw the crisis before anyone else did. He said he’d seen dynasties be torn apart by a succession dispute…” she paused, gulping thickly as she said, “And said one of the girls would have to go.”

“What? That’s awful,” said Seonghwa softly. “He forced you to part from your own child to avoid a war over the throne?”

“That’s what he believed he was doing,” she replied. Chaewon put both her hands on Jisoo’s shoulders, and the queen touched one of them still. “I knew he was right. My own family went through a similar struggle when my father died, and I did not wish to see my children be torn apart because of a silly chair. I told my husband I understood his reasoning, but I did not wish to be fully separated from my child. I begged him to let the girl remain in the palace; I told him we can pass her off as somebody’s else’s child, and nobody would have to know outside of a select few. The girls looked nothing alike, so it wasn’t as if anyone would suspect.” 

Hongjoong sensed the end of this story, and he couldn’t believe it at all. 

“Then, I turned to my closest friend,” she smiled up at Chaewon, “Who’d held my hand throughout my labors and been there every step of the way. She’d suffered similar fertility issues with her husband, who couldn’t produce enough sperm to give her a child. I offered the younger of the two to her,” she looked back at them, “And she’d live as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s daughter instead.”

“YN…” your name escaped his lips softly. “No, that’s…YN and Sookmyung could not be any different from one another. Firstly, their appearances alone are vastly different, and their demeanors…YN, she’s…She’s too sweet to have shared a womb with a monster like Sookmyung. How would you have kept this from other servants? Gossip spreads in this place like wildfire. If Queen Jisoo had two twins, people would have known in seconds.” 

“And if Chaewon didn’t have a child one day, was never pregnant, and suddenly produced one,” added Seonghwa, “Might raise suspicions.” 

“I told people my husband and I adopted a baby from the city orphanage,” Chaewon said. 

“And the only people in the birthing room that night were myself, the king, the physician, Chaewon and Wonshik,” Jisoo replied. “Everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Physician Yoon passed away some years after the twins’ birth, so it was one less person. Han YN became Park YN, and she has lived as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s adopted daughter ever since. I demanded that YN and Sookmyung live side-by-side like sisters, being companions as children before YN became her handmaiden.” 

“It was His Majesty’s wish that YN be educated alongside Sookmyung,” said Wonshik. “I think when Sookmyung’s nature began to show, he started regretting his decision to separate the twins. I suggested he reveal his deception to the people, and claim YN as his daughter, but he refused. He was too proud to admit he’d made a mistake, and too optimistic that Sookmyung’s wild behavior was a phase she’d grown out of in adulthood.”

“He also feared what Sookmyung might do if she found out she had a sister,” Jisoo admitted to them. “You two saw what she’d done to those who had claims to the throne, no matter how distant. I knew telling her would put YN’s life in danger.”

“Then why are you bringing this to light now?” asked Hongjoong, appalled by their confessions. “Sookmyung is the queen. She is the most powerful person in the country. She has men who will torture and kill people at the first word, and will not hesitate to do it herself. She’ll kill YN and get away with it,” he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “We can’t let anyone else know. If Sookmyung should ever think YN is-”

“-Sookmyung needs to be stopped,” Jisoo cut him off firmly. “I love my daughter. I have loved her despite her faults and wrongdoings. I did my best to raise her to be a proper lady of the realm, and prepare her for her ascension. But, I must accept the truth: my daughter is not the person I’d hoped she’d become.”

“She never was,” said Wonshik. “Ever since her girlhood, Queen Sookmyung has been vicious, manipulative, aggressive and cruel. You cannot deny this, Your Majesty,” he told her, “I told your husband that naming Sookmyung his heir would be a mistake.”

“Then who would he have named? His incompetent brother? His people-pleasing sister?” she snapped at him. “I don’t know if you remember, Senior Advisor, but my daughter had most of my husband’s family killed during the war. There are so few claimants left, and they’d be too frightened to challenge Sookmyung.” She turned back to Hongjoong, “YN is our only hope at saving this kingdom from open warfare.”

“Warfare? Do you believe the rebels are strong enough to engage?” asked Seonghwa, sitting back on his haunches and putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve always understood the rebel forces to be ill equipped and nothing more than commoners with pitchforks?”

“And that is the exact image we want Sookmyung to have,” Wonshik told him. “I can assure you that the rebels are more than farmers and fishermen. Her Majesty and I have managed to rally some supporters from the other cities. Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang have all given their support to our cause, and minor lords in Gangwon-do and Jeju-do gave theirs as well. I have close friends here at court who will be on YN's side when we finally usurp Sookmyung.” 

“It will not be an easy transition, Senior Advisor,” said Seonghwa. “The people only know Sookmyung; they do not know YN. If they hear she is a twin, they may assume she shares Sookmyung’s behaviors. I don’t know if you’re aware, sir, but Sookmyung forces YN to participate in the torture and abuse a majority of the time. It’s a strange intimacy the both of them have. They might believe she’s the same or worse.”

“Which is why we must show them that YN is tender-hearted and gentle,” he replied. “Have her go into the city, meet her people and speak to them face-to-face. Reinstate the protection laws and charities Sookmyung banned or removed. She can repair damages done across the kingdom and lower taxation and those ridiculous tributes Sookmyung demands. The people will see that she is vastly different from their previous queen.”

“And she’ll have something Sookmyung has not had in the eight years of her reign,” said Jisoo. “The thing her advisors have hounded her about for years.”

“What?”

“A husband,” she eyed Hongjoong when she said this. “Not only a husband, but a husband who’d been a prince of Wonju, the rebel base and rallying point of the rebellion.”

“Should peace be restored, I’d return to Wonju to rule,” said Hongjoong. “My whole family is dead. There’d be nobody to take my place.”

“That is not entirely true, young prince,” Wonshik said. “There is your cousin, Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?” He lifted an eyebrow. Hongjoong remember his youngest cousin, and said, “He was killed by Sookmyung’s guards the day they sacked the city.”

“No, he wasn’t,” he said. “Wonju loyalists managed to smuggle him out right as the fighting began. He has been living in the countryside ever since. The people in charge of him have been preparing him to be your steward in Wonju. You would be here with YN, ruling at her side, while giving him control of Wonju in your place.” When he saw Hongjoong’s hesitation, he added, “Jeongin is the same kind, caring boy you remember. He would make a great steward.”

“And it’d rebuild the alliance Wonju and Hanseong once had,” said Jisoo. “I don’t believe Wonju’s bannermen would agree to any ties with Hanseong without a marriage pact. Even if you have not been in Wonju, the people there still stand with you, Hongjoong. You are their king. You can be my daughter’s king consort, be at her side and guide her.” She then grinned slyly, "Unless you do not want her?” 

"Of course I do," he blurted out without thinking. "I mean, I do like her. I think YN could be a good queen with the right counsel, but Sookmyung…" 

Hongjoong did not want to imagine what horrors she'd have in store for you. Sookmyung held you very close to her heart. Should she believe you're conspiring against her, she'll see it as the deepest of betrayals. Hongjoong refused to let her dangle you from a ceiling or shove you in a horrific box. He'd kill her before he let that happen. 

"What are your plans for Sookmyung?" Seonghwa asked when Hongjoong failed to respond. 

"She will be arrested and put on trial," said Wonshik 

"On what charges?"

"Crimes she committed during the war," he explained. "The murder and torture of prisoners of war,  purposefully attacking civilian towns and taking hostages are only a few named."

"You cannot arrest a queen."

"You can if she has been deposed," he corrected him. "If the council decides Sookmyung is unfit as queen, she will be replaced by YN, therefore removing her titles. Up until now, most of the officials feared retaliation from her for speaking out, but I have convinced the Head Advisors to join me."

"Is she not supposed to be there when the ruling is made? That is part of the law."

"Smart boy," Wonshik smiled at him, "But there is a loophole in this law."

"Is there?"

"The ruling monarch does not have to be present for every council meeting," he said, "And Sookmyung never comes to any of them. We always come to decisions on our own, and present them to her for approval."

"And this ruling can be made during one of these meetings," concluded Seonghwa. "She will not go quietly, you know. She will try to flee."

"We have no doubt about that," he replied. "Do not worry. I have many things in place to make sure she is detained."

"And when is this supposed to happen?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight? So soon? Why?"

"Because it is crucial we do it as soon as possible," he said. “Her Majesty will set up a place for Sookmyung to be, we will wait until she is unsuspecting, and then confront her. We will have supporters around us to step in if need be.” 

"The only person we are waiting on is you, Your Grace," Jisoo said to him gently. "Will you accept my daughter’s hand in marriage and be her king consort? Help us reunite the kingdoms and restore peace?" 

His eyes began to sting. Nobody had called him 'Your Grace' in a very long time. He didn't think he'd ever be called that again. Thinking deeply, Naeun came to mind. If he refused, everything she suffered would be for nothing. He remembered her lifeless body laying on the hard straw, broken bones protruding from her skin and her eye swollen shut. She died with the hope that one day her home will be as she remembered. Hongjoong then thought of you. As your king consort, he could be around you whenever he liked. He could speak to you, laugh with you, kiss and hold you the way he dreamed. You would be his, and you could restore the kingdom together. 

"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I will."

For home.

****

"-He kept crying all the way back," she huffed. "I thought, being a man, that he'd have a higher tolerance for it."

You knelt at Sookmyung’s side by the low dining table. The afternoon light shone in through the open windows, their borders creating shapes on the floors. Along with it came a cool spring breeze that kissed your warm cheeks. You hated it when Sookmyung recounted her nights in the dungeon. It sickened your stomach, and only brought on more haunting visions. You laddled egg soup into a bowl for her, stirred it around a few times, then placed it in front of her. 

“You’re a woman and you have a stronger stomach than him,” she said, spooning soup into her mouth. 

“I am sure Hongjoong was only overwhelmed by experiencing so much so quickly,” you told her. You sliced toasted bread, putting a small pot of honey and jaw in front of her. “You should have started small, perhaps The Box or The Bull. You know, an act he doesn’t see but hears instead. It lets his mind fill in the blank spaces.” 

“Hm,” she mused, sipping more soup from her bowl, “I suppose you’re right. I may have been a bit hasty in my excitement to show him the chamber. I thought…” she hesitated, “I thought he might understand. I thought he’d enjoy it the way we do.” She pondered over her soup, pushing the strings of egg with her spoon. “I was wrong.” You saw her fingers grip the spoon tightly, her eyes narrowed at the bowl as it’d wronged her.

“Things like the dungeon take a bit of getting used to,” you told her. “I am sure with time, he will come to enjoy it with you.” 

You sat back on your legs and watched her eat. Your own stomach growled quietly, and rumbled in your gut the longer you lingered on the food. The porridge you’d eaten this morning had since been digested, and left you hungry again. You did not know what plans Sookmyung had for the day, since she never concerned herself with the day-to-day work of a queen. The advisors usually held meetings in the morning, then approached her with their decisions some time in the day. Having started her day late, you’re sure they’ll wait until much later to discuss any rulings they’ve made. A part of you believed the council made decisions and put them into action without Sookmyungs’s knowledge sometimes. It is not as if she cared anyway.

“You’re the only person I can share my chambers with,” she said. “You’re the only one who understands.”

Unfortunately, she was right. While Sookmyung’s ‘experiments’ and ‘delights’ haunted your dreams and churned your stomach, you’d begun to understand why she must hurt others. It made sense when you thought about it. Relishing in the pain of others gave her a gratification she couldn’t find anywhere else. Hurting them, controlling when the pain began and ended simulated a power reserved for gods, and not men. You often stood by as she forcibly shoved a man into a box full of venomous scorpions and spiders, and saw the glee in her face. You’d see her carve a man’s face off to place maggots on the red flesh, then stand to watch him writhe in agony. It was abhorrent to anyone else. It was fun for Sookmyung. The fact that her treasured flower did not revel in the torture with her must’ve upset her deeply. Hongjoong having cried at whatever befell the assassin angered Sookmyung. Watching her stir her soup around before eating it, you worried she might decide she no longer wants Hongjoong.

He may end up in The Box next. 

“Will you take him back there?” you asked her, pouring milk into a cup for her to drink.

“I wanted to, but the assassin died in the night,” she scoffed. She ate another piece of kimchi, chewing on the fermented vegetable before saying, “You should have seen her, YN. I think you would have admired her resistance.”

“Did she reveal any information to you?”

“No,” she shook her head, “Those rebel bastards should start finding smarter people. The guards say they found her climbing over the garden wall, waiting in the trees by the corner. You’d think an assassin might be smarter than that.”

“Hubris,” you said, “That was her mistake.”

She grinned, “And stupidity. What made her think she could ever possibly put her knife to my throat?”

“Pride or desperation. One of the two, I suspect.” 

Sookmyung then changed to another topic, a smirk lifting a corner of her mouth, “You never answered me last night.”

“Your Majesty?” you dug your nails into your skirt. Another test was coming, you knew it.

“I asked if San was your type.”

“I told you he was not, Your Majesty.”

Your cheeks burned recalling the previous night. You are certain Sookmyung had no intention of letting you lay with one of her flowers. She only wanted to embarrass you further in front of people. Like with her victims, she controlled your life. She’d also control any lover you took up. She’d kill them if she didn’t approve.

“YN, I cannot find you a proper husband unless you tell me,” she said irritably. She then sneered, “Or, maybe, you don’t like men at all.”

“Wha-what?” your eyes widened at the implication, and you shook your head. “Your Majesty, I assure you I do prefer me-”

“-There is nothing wrong with liking the same sex, YN. There are places all over the world where women couple with women,” she cupped your chin so you looked at her. Her thumb traced your bottom lip line as she said, “I sometimes wish I’d been the boy my father had wanted. Then, this marriage situation could be easily solved.” She moved away from her bowl to sit closer to you. You shivered as her fingers pushed stray strands of hair away, “I could marry the prettiest, loveliest woman I know, and make her mine.” When you looked away in embarrassment, she cackled, “Such a flustered little virgin. There is so much you do not know.”

“Your Majesty…”

“It’s sweet.”

The sound of footsteps made you jump away from her, but she stayed in place. A knock on the door made her grunt frustratedly.

“Go see who it is, YN,” she said, “Then tell them to leave. We have places to be later, and I need to get dressed.”

You were all too eager to go. You are not a naive child. You know women can be romantic with other women; there is nothing wrong with that. You’d seen Sookmyung nude many times over the course of your servitude, and you wouldn’t say she was ugly by any means. Any true naive person would think she is a goddess with her slender curves and hips. The only problem for you was that said woman is sadistically evil. You reached the door, and slid it open to reveal your mother and Queen Jisoo.

“Your Majesty,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks again as you bowed, “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“My daughter,” she replied stiffly. “Is she finally awake?”

“She is,” you nodded, “But she has a busy schedule ahead of her, so she must be getting dressed now.”

“Psh, as if that will stop me,” she replied. “Chaewon, wheel me in.” 

With a beckoning gesture over her shoulder, your mother wheeled Jisoo into the room where Sookmyung sat on cushions by the low breakfast table. You trailed behind, not meeting her eyes, and remaining silent.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sookmyung said with a false grin, “I hope you’re feeling better. YN was just telling me you hadn’t eaten much yesterday.” A lie that Queen Jisoo did not believe for a second.

“I am, darling daughter,” she said, “But my health is not why I’ve come here. I am here to tell you that you are to clear your afternoon schedule today.”

“Why is that?”

“I have invited lords from Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang as well as sons of your bannermen to our banquet pavilion today. It is about time you stopped fiddling with those poor concubines of yours and settled down with a husband.”

Sookmyung glared at her, “I do not want a husband.”

“I’m afraid that your wishes are no longer a concern to anyone. You are a queen, and a queen must have a king.”

“I do not want a king.”

“Why? Because then you’d have to actually share your power with someone? Because there will finally be someone restraining these ghastly, deviant urges of yours?” her mother accused. “I have made excuses for your behavior for years and years, Sookmyung. When people at court called you improper and promiscuous, I told them you shared your father’s fiery passion. When they said your conquest brought nothing but poverty to your people, I said that you united the kingdoms under one rule and brought forth strength to our armies. Even when you rebuilt the dungeons, to toy and defile people you deemed criminals, I told them that you were passionate about justice.” You heard the frustration rising in her voice, and flaring in her dark eyes. “People have begun to talk, Sookmyung. They say that one day soon, you’ll become pregnant with an illegitimate child and bring shame to our throne.”

“Who cares?” Sookmyung groaned, “Any child I bare would have my blood. Why would that make them unworthy?”

“Because a bastard has never sat on our throne-”

“-I don’t want them, so why does this matter?”

Jisoo sighed, “Sookmyung, I understand your hesitancy to marry. I had my reservations when my mother approached me, but I made it work. I did my duty to my country and my family.” Her eyes shifted over to you, sad and full of regret. It struck you as strange. “But, in order for our family to continue, you must produce a legitimate child. A child of royal, noble blood.”

“I hate children,” she spat, glaring back at her mother, “They’re whiny, snotty, and annoying.”

“You’ll feel differently when you have a child of your own.”

Sookmyung then gave her mother a grin that unsettled you. It was the same mischievous smile she’d given when she misbehaved. She stood up from her seat, and said, “But, what if I have found true love at last, Mother? What if I have found someone I wish to spend my life with?”

“You-You have? Who?” the queen asked, shocked.

Sookmyung moved over to you, standing behind you with arms around your waist. She placed her head on your shoulder as she said, “YN.”

Jisoo scoffed, “Oh please, Sookmyung. You cannot marry YN; she is a woman.”

“Women marry women all the time, Mother, when they marry the same husband,” she said. “YN and I can marry the same man and he can give her children instead.”

“As true as that may be, our clan has never indulged in such practices,” she said. “Besides, any child YN has will be considered…” she searched for the words, “Hers. Not yours. You are the queen, so it is your children who should-”

“-I am aware of how succession works, Mother!” Sookmyung snapped, her voice pinching your eardrum. “I have told you explicitly time and time again that I do not wish to have children or to marry. YN is perfect for it. If I marry her, her children will also be considered my children.”

“Should you marry a woman, it cannot be YN,” her mother said.

“Why not?”

“She is your handmaiden, love. She is not…” she paused again, “She is not suitable for you. She is not of noble blood.”

“Psh, wow,” Sookmyung snorted, “I thought I could be cruel. Did you hear that, Chaewon? My mother thinks your daughter is unworthy of me.”

“My daughter is a servant, Your Majesty,” your mother told her. “She’ll be marrying someone of her station like a stableboy or a blacksmith. A woman of your rank, Your Majesty, should be marrying a fine lord or a prince.”

“There are no princes left, you fool,” Sookmyung sniped at her.

“There would be if you hadn’t slain them all,” interjected Jisoo. “Enough of this foolishness. You will come to the pavilion today and greet your suitors. I give you until the end of the day to make a decision. If you do not choose one, I will choose one for you,” she said sternly.

“You wouldn’t-”

“-I would,” she cut her off. “This childish behavior of yours is coming to an end. You have been a queen for eight years, and have not even considered any suitors for yourself, so I must do it for you. I am giving one chance. If not, consider yourself lucky that you have not been dethroned.”

“You bitch!”

Sookmyung grabbed a small ceramic vase and flung it in the queen’s direction. Jisoo shielded her face in time to avoid any serious damage, but you still saw the disbelief in her eyes.

“I hate you!” Sookmyung grabbed another object, this time a small dish, which was dodged when your mother pulled Jisoo away. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” 

“Your Majesty, please!” 

You managed to grab her wrist in time to stop her from taking up a third object, which gave your mother time to wheel Jisoo away. “You can throw tantrums all you want,” Jisoo called from nearby, “You will get married or live to regret it.”

“What did you say, you-”

You kept Sookmyung from following her mother out by the waist. “Your Majesty,” you called over her grunting and growling, “Please enough. You will only make things worse for yourself.”

“For myself?” she twisted out of your grasp and turned on you, “I am the queen, you idiot! What sort of consequences could I face? What can that old, useless woman do to me?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“-You never know anything,” she hissed. “Just as stupid as you look. I am the queen. Nobody can touch me. Nobody can make me do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t have to marry anyone. I don’t have to have children. I don’t have to do anything that those stupid, old men in the council want me to do.”

“They only have the country’s best interest at heart,” you explained, keeping your hands together to stop them shaking. “They’re not doing it to hurt you or make you unhappy. Having a child would ensure your family name and legacy continues onward,” you took a moment to think, then said, “How can you make sure your dungeons and practices remain in place if somebody else takes up the throne? With a child of your own, you can make sure they share the same beliefs as you about crime and punishment.”

“I hate children,” she gruffed. 

“You don’t have to like them. You don’t even have to take care of them; you can have a wet nurse look after them for you. You only have to have them.”

“I don’t want to marry any of those men.”

“I’m afraid it must be one of them.”

Sookmyung’s palm collided with your cheek sharply. The pain burned on your skin, but you did not dare flinch or wince in front of her. “You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she snarled. “I do. I am the queen." She smacked you again, “Say it. Say I am the queen.”

“You are the queen,” you squeaked.

“And you are my slave.”

“And I am your slave.”

Sookmyung smacked your other cheek, then grabbed you by the collar of your jacket. “I should throw you in that chamber. I think you’d remember who you are after a few days in there.”

Your eyes stayed on hers, and you trembled in her grasp. She could do it. You knew she could. For the briefest moment, you saw yourself laying nude in The Box, screaming and clawing at the wooden door as insects and arachnids crawled all over you.

“But no,” she released you and stepped away, “You’re not hard-headed like the other idiots around here. Dress me, and then we can meet these stupid suitors.”

“You…You will meet them then?”

“Might as well,” she shrugged. “Maybe we can find a husband we both like.”

“Both of us? Your Majesty,” you followed her to the bedroom, “None of those men would want to marry me. I am a servant.”

“You’re my servant,” she noted. “If they marry me, they’re marrying you too.” She held her arms behind her back so you may untie and remove her robe for her.

You gingerly touched your left cheek, and felt a small welt where her ring struck you. It pinched when you touched it. “What about your flowers? If you marry, you may not be allowed to have them.”

“I’m never giving them up,” she said, “Not for anyone. I worked too hard to obtain them.”

“Your husband may not like that and dismiss them from the palace. As king consort, he’d be allowed that right.” You’ll admit, you liked the idea of her flowers being set free. They’d all be able to live the lives they’ve always wanted freely and happily. 

“I’d kill my flowers before I let anyone else take them from me,” she said. “Grab the red and gold dress.” 

“Shall I call in the others?”

“No. I can’t stand them.”

“As you wish.”

“Because I am the queen.”

“Because you are the queen,” you repeated, giving a nod of your head before disappearing into the nearby closet. 

In the privacy of the walk-in closet, you pretended to search the shelves for the appropriate box. Sookmyung kept all her hanboks in boxes with their descriptions on the side. You already knew where her regal dress was, but did not reach for the box. Your back pressed into the opposite shelf and you took deep, silent breaths. Heart pounding in your chest, you tried your best to calm it before Sookmyung heard you. Like a feral animal, she grew tense the second she sensed fear. You hated this feeling, but it came regardless. You hated that your life was at her mercy. 

One mistake, one false word, and she’d throw you into a torture cell.

***

A/N: The conspirators have finally met!! I am so happy you guys are enjoying this fic so far. I know it's complex and elaborate, but I really love historical dramas and period pieces, so I wanted to write one for ateez. Please, as always, feel free to like, reblog, and comment <3

Also, sorry if some tags aren't tagging. Idk why.

[sevngmin148]

😮‍💨 this is so good

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 2 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader

Word Count: 7k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr

Part 1 < | > Part 3

***

Hongjoong learned long ago that the best release of anger was having sex with Sookmyung. Not in the heated passionate way he might’ve with a real lover, but in a hateful way. He pinned her down. He pulled her hair. He bit her neck, bruised her thighs, and slapped her ass until it turned red. He rammed his hips into her quickly and fiercely. All the while pretending that it is his desire for her making him act harshly. He held Sookmyung by her arms as he guided her onto Yunho, who laid beneath her naked and erect. Her loud, feral grunts told him she was close to her third climax today. He hated her. He hated her for making them do this. Her insatiable libido was limitless depravity. Nothing is ever too vile for her. Nothing is ever off limits.

He hated how she’d made San whip Wooyoung, all because she thought they’d coupled together without her permission. The two sat on a couch nearby, kissing softly as ordered to be Sookmyung. He saw the long red welts and purple marks along Wooyoung’s tanned back and torso. According to her, they’d been laying in bed together half naked. San told him they hadn’t touched or kissed. They’d only laid there talking as friends do at night. It enraged her. She’d scowled and screamed, throwing a tantrum in San's bed chamber. Hongjoong remembered hearing Wooyoung’s cries as she barked orders at San. San still had bite marks on his shoulders where she’d bit him. This made Hongjoong suck and bite into her neck to retaliate.

“Don’t stop,” she growled as he and Yunho pushed into her, “Don’t…Don’t..Oh god, keep going!”

She eventually came, and Hongjoong stayed inside until it subsided. Every muscle in his body ached, burning hotly and begging to rest. He and Yunho both withdrew and moved away from her.  He did not fully rest as Yunho did. Standing on wobbly knees, Hongjoong grabbed a robe from nearby and slid over his shoulders.

“Hongjoongie,” he heard Sookmyung whimpered behind him, “Where are you going?”

“I’m famished, beloved,” he muttered.

“I can have food brought to us,” she called, but he shook his head.

“No need,” he assured her. “The others will keep you company until I return.”

He kissed her before walking out of the circular room. Hongjoong walked down a hallway into another, smaller sitting room where a servant left  plates of food and a pot of tea. This sitting room is the farthest from the main lounge, where most of the guards and attendants would be, leaving him entirely alone. Taking a sip of tea, he took a quick peek through the wooden lattice windows.  The setting sun gave their garden a russet glow that broke between leaves and branches. It is a beautiful sight, he admitted. Lush green bushes and vibrant flowers basked in the spring time season, while fish swam in the ponds and lakes across the grounds. Cobbled walkways circled brass fountains, and trees outside sometimes bore fruit for them to eat. It reminded him of his own garden back at home, where he played with his siblings and companions while his mother looked on. He still remembers all the times she’d chase him around the garden or taught him about the different flowers. Sookmyung had taken that from him. Shed stormed in with her vast army, and slew his entire family. He thought of his mother’s lifeless eyes looking at him as a knife plunged into her chest, her last breath echoing in his ear.

‘I’ll take better care of you than she ever did,’ Sookmyung whispered to him as his mother lay dying on the ground. 

He hated her. He loathed her. He despised her with every fiber of his being. Queen Sookmyung had stormed into his home, killed his family, enslaved his people, and then took him. It sickened him. He did not eat a single portion left on the table; he could barely stomach the tea. She must be stopped. He’d said this to himself a million times over the past eight years. Hongjoong often laid in bed and thought of killing her. Simply putting a knife in her chest as she’d done to his mother. But, no. That will not do. Her council, no matter how much they despise her, will be forced to act. Also, there’d be an even major problem: there’d be nobody to claim the throne. King Siwon had old uncles, and they had children, but they’re so low in rank now that nobody remembers their names. Sookmyung put any possible challenges to the sword: children of the king’s concubines, close cousins, and people who might stake a claim however small. There’d be nobody to guide their kingdom; nobody to speak on behalf of its people and rebuild what Sookmyung destroyed.

Hongjoong might hate Sookmyung, but he did not hate the people. The subjects whom he’d hoped to serve one day called out for help and he is unable to answer their call. It made him feel helpless, useless, and powerless. That is, until he’d met Naeun.

He’d gone into the garden alone a few weeks ago when he heard a disturbance near the apricot trees towards the side walls. The scrape of metal against stone caught his ear in the dark corner of the garden, followed by a soft thump of feet touching ground. When Hongjoong went to discover it, someone put their hand over his mouth and pushed him into the bushes between the trees. There, he’d seen the intruder: short and slim as a tree branch, the young woman wore a half mask and dressed in all black. He’d originally been scared, seeing the dagger on her belt, but then she pulled down her mask.

‘Your Grace, I come on behalf of Seo Changbin. He says hope is not lost.’

It took him a moment to place a face to the name, but it hit him quickly. While never having met the man in person, he’d heard Sookmyung mention his name disdainfully before. A resistance leader, he’d once been a military soldier until his defection some years ago. According to Naeun, he has been gathering recruits to his cause while remaining underground. Hongjoong had no idea why he’d contact him; he’d lost his crown and his people. He held no power to help them. Changbin seemed to think differently.

‘The people of Wonju have not forgotten you, my prince. We must free you from this prison.’

'That is much easier said than done, I'm afraid. Sookmyung takes as much care to keep us imprisoned as she does keeping others out. The most I can do for him is to remain here.'

'You wish to be kept here?'

'Yes. Sookmyung foolishly boasts about her plans in front of us. I know things about her bases, her forces, and her battle plans than most. I can leave messages for you in the tree whenever I have something to pass along.'

'Your Grace, if she were to catch you…I believe you do not understand. You are our only hope.'

'I am more useful to the rebellion inside these walls than out. Trust me. I know what I'm doing. Come to me a week from now, and I shall have information for you.'

Naeun agreed to the plan. Sookmyung never suspected anything when she began idly chatting about her various strategies. Hongjoong made note of her words and passed them along to Naeun, who then told Changbin. It helped them in the short term, but they needed something stronger. Simply cutting off trade routes, attacking military camps, and liberating political prisoners is not enough. They needed to get rid of Sookmyung permanently. 

An assassin sounded easy, but Sookmyung is so closely guarded, getting a moment with her might be hard. The one time a person did manage to reach her chambers, she’d killed them. He told Naeun that Sookmyung is no delicate kitten. She has claws that are long and sharp, and she enjoys sinking them into her enemies slowly. 

They would need to be careful if they wished to proceed.

“Tired already, Joongie?”

He heard Seonghwa call from somewhere behind him, and he turned around to see him by the door. Wearing his own black robe, seeing him in the faint orange sunset, he understood why Sookmyung took him as a concubine. His dark eyes twinkled with a thousand stars, and his plush lips resembled rosé petals. After being captured by Sookmyung, Hongjoong realized he had companions in his misery: the other sons of people Sookmyung killed. One of them being Seonghwa, son of a chief advisor in another nation. Sookmyung must’ve hoped he and Seonghwa would fight over her; that they’d rip each other apart for a special spot beside her. That is the only disappointment she let them get away with. The pair of them both realized the only people they’d have in this world is one another; they’d never see home or their families again. The “flowers” learned long ago that they can only depend on one another.

“Far from it,” he replied. “I thought it’d be unfair to keep her from enjoying the rest of you.”

‘I wanted to get away from her.’ 

Even in this room far from ears and eyes, they practiced caution. Seonghwa sauntered over to him, “I think she’s plenty occupied with the others for the moment. A bit of rest will not upset her.”

‘She’s busy. Let’s talk.’

Their casual expressions became serious once Seonghwa reached him, their backs facing the doorway. Seonghwa poured himself tea, and the elder sipped quietly.

“Will you see your friend again tonight?”

“I might,” he said. “She told me to meet her by the trees a week from then. She said Changbin uncovered information that could be very instrumental in removing her, but he needed proof of it.”

“What could it be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Maybe he discovered Sookmyung is some foul demon and has discovered how to banish her from this world.”

The pair of them giggled softly. Seonghwa drank from his tea cup, and said, “Have you heard anything about that maid?”

Hongjoong hesitated. His stomach twisted into knots when the picture came back to him. He pictured a young girl, about sixteen by his estimation, laying on the pavilion floor as she cried out in pain. It had been a mistake. An older servant told him that the young girl came to them looking for work, and was given a job in the kitchen. She’d been putting down wine cups when she accidentally knocked one over which spilled onto Sookmyung’s lap. Naturally, the queen went into an immediate rage.

“One of the attendants told me they’d thrown her into the cells for a week,” Hongjoong said flatly, putting his drink aside. “Over an accident. She beat that child for spilling wine, then imprisoned her.”

Sookmyung beat her with a bamboo switch until she drew blood.  Hongjoong remembered flinching every time the thin wooden stick met flesh; his heart sinking in every cry he heard, her pleas for the abuse to stop. A proper monarch would not have risen to anger so quickly. To be fair, he’d never seen anyone rush to rage like Sookmyung. The girl left the scene bruised and whimpering, being dragged away by two armed guards. They’d all wished to speak out. While the others wept for the young girl, he fumed with hate. It swelled in his chest until it tightened, causing him to take deep breaths. The child did nothing wrong. She’d only been a bit careless, possibly nervous at serving a queen for the first time.

“She needs to be stopped, Hwa,” Hongjoong said under his breath. “This madness must not be allowed to continue.”

“It will be stopped,” Seonghwa assured him. “A revolution is at hand.”

“Revolution? What revolution?” he spat. “The citizens of this city are too frightened of her and her men to raise up arms against her. The few who can be encouraged do not have the proper support. A revolution can only happen if enough people stand up and speak out.” He thought of that girl, and what she must be feeling now. She must still be frightened. “That woman has stomped out any glimmer of hope those people might have had long ago. She killed anyone who would have opposed her or helped them stop her. Do not forget, love, she has her people everywhere as well.”

“Perhaps the news your friend brings will be the very ray of hope we need,” said Seonghwa.  Hongjoong sensed a change in subject when his brother smiled softly, “YN looked lovely today, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” he nodded, thinking about you as he admired the flowers beneath the window. “She did.”

“Good idea in distracting Sookmyung,” Seonghwa said, doing the same. “Chaewon mentioned she hadn’t seen YN for the past two nights.”

“I thought she could use the time.”

You looked lovely at court today. Even though you wore the same hanbok, the same slippers, and the same hairstyle every day, he and Seonghwa still found you lovely. If Hongjoong pitied anyone outside of himself and his brothers, it’d be you. While they only saw a small percentage of Sookmyung’s cruelty, you saw all of it. You saw the things she did as a princess, you saw the horrors she committed during her conquest, and the deplorable things she did as a queen. He heard Sookmyung often makes you join her in the palace jails where she keeps her victims. You've seen Sookmyung’s true nature. He imagined she might’ve even forced you to participate. If she enjoyed making you watch her have sex with them, then she definitely delighted in forcing you to torture people with her.

“She is clever, you must give her that,” Seonghwa cut through his thoughts. “From what the handmaidens say, YN is the only other person who can navigate Sookmyung. Remember when that seamstress accidentally made her jacket too short, and Sookmyung almost hit her for it? YN managed to convince her that Queens are trendsetters, and how popular she’d be to have started a new trend in hanbok fashions.”

“She’s brilliant.”

Words he instantly wished he could take back. Those words may float through the air and over to the very front of the house where she’d hear him. Hongjoong could never look at you the way he wanted with Sookmyung so close by, but he liked catching glimpses of you. He knew you likely did not feel the same way. Sookmyung’s wrath kept you from looking too long or speaking to him directly. The things he learned about you had been through others. Late at night, when the weight of his plight robbed him of sleep, he envisioned what would happen if he’d still been a prince. He would’ve come to Hanseong as a diplomatic envoy or as a prince to discuss alliance terms. You’d likely still be Sookmyung’s handmaiden, but he’d be allowed to speak to you. He could talk to you without the threat of death looming behind you. He could enjoy your company leisurely in the open and be free to seek you out if he wished.

Perhaps, once he’d deposed Sookmyung and reclaimed his homeland, he could pursue you the way a man pursues a woman he admires.

“I sometimes wonder what it'd be like if I was still an advisor’s son,” Seonghwa mused, “We wouldn’t be the same rank but I still would’ve married her, if she accepted. I’d keep her safe. She wouldn’t need to live in fear anymore.”

“And if she married me, she’d be free to do as she wished,” added Hongjoong.

“What makes you think she’d marry you?” teased Seonghwa. “Because you’re a prince? You cannot marry someone so below your rank. You’re supposed to marry a princess.”

“Sookmyung murdered all the princesses, remember? ” said Hongjoong, “Besides, I wouldn’t be a prince anymore. I’d be a king, so she’d surely say ‘yes’ to me.”

“Being a queen is complicated and stressful. Being the wife of an Advisor is much more relaxed. She’d have a comfortable lifestyle and also freedom she wouldn’t get as a queen.”

“She’s strong enough to handle the responsibilities. She handles Sookmyung every day, so it wouldn’t be so hard.”

Hongjoong did not mind the idea of being with both you and Seonghwa. He’d grown to love Seonghwa, and after sharing a bed with him on many occasions, the intimacy nurtured the fondness. Hongjoong learned to put his trust in a handful of people, and Seonghwa became one of them. His brilliant mind and tender heart drew in anyone who spoke to him, Hongjoong included. 

“Or you could both be my concubines to make things easier for everyone,” he winked. “Kings have very big appetites, you know.”

Seonghwa punched his arm and laughed, “I’d never be a concubine to anyone ever again. I’ll settle for your Chief Advisor position, however.”

“In that case, I get to marry YN and you cannot protest.”

“Trade YN for a seat on your council? Hm, perhaps I should think more on it before giving an answer.”

“You’d be Chief Advisor, second to The King and second most powerful man in the country,” he explained. “Surely, that will be a reasonable trade.”

“May I at least kiss her before you take her from me, Your Grace?”

“If she accepts, then you may.”

“Hongjoong! Seonghwa! Where are you?”

The sound of her voice demolished any laughter between them. Hongjoong’s  hatred immediately boiled inside him. He glanced back to the garden, the sun nearly set and darkness waning over them. He knew you’d come to bring Sookmyung her supper, and then disappear again. Perhaps those few minutes you stayed in his presence may be enough to soothe his anger.

“Hongjoong!” she screamed in a firm tone.

A third call will result in chastising. Hongjoong finished his drink, then stood up with Seonghwa to walk back into the main room. Draped with red, black and gold, plush couches and cushions decorated the circular room. It had every comfort or luxury people outside the palace would faint over.  If she wanted, musicians would stand in a corner to entertain them while Yunho, Mingi or Wooyoung danced for her. Jongho or Yeosang would be ordered to sing songs as she lounged herself across Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s laps. The “garden”, as she called their quarters, was her private playground and nobody is permitted inside unless under extreme urgency.

Sookmyung laid on her back on one of the couches, still nude and sweaty from the strenuous love making. His brothers rested around her, their privates no doubt aching from the constant orgasms, and their muscles burning due to the exertion. He supposed she’d tired herself out, since all physical touching stopped in his absence. Though, knowing Sookmyung, that desire can turn its ugly head around very easily. He must not do anything to entice her, yet still placate her. Perhaps he can convince her to retire to bed early or return to her quarters for the night. Meeting Naeun will be easier if she’s away.

“There you are,” she said, rolling onto her side and looking at him through tired eyes, “I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep without me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He thought of straddling her to wrap his hands around her throat, yet instead, he did so to kiss her softly. Her lips, warm and tasting faintly of their combined juices, disgusted him instead of exciting him. The thought of kissing you instead was what pushed him through it until they broke apart. 

“I had someone go fetch YN,” she told him, putting her legs across his lap. “I’m starving, and she hasn’t appeared yet.”

“I’m sure she’s preoccupied elsewhere, and it slipped her mind,” assured Hongjoong.

“How can I slip from her mind?” she snapped. “I’m her queen. My welfare is all she should be concerned with; it’s her role as my handmaiden and head of my household. She is my oldest companion, but she can be so simple-minded sometimes.”

He wanted to slap her, but resisted the urge by giving her thigh a slight squeeze disguised as desire.

“Maybe I should take her down to the cells again,” she said pensively. Rolling her hairpin between her fingers, he saw her turning the idea in time with it. “I can show her what can happen if she forgets about me.”

His eyes looked to Seonghwa, whose jaw clenched tightly. He saw similar expressions from the others around them. Hongjoong knew they cared about you just as much as he did.

“I don’t think such a harsh display is necessary, Mistress,” said Yunho, coming to her opposite side, gently moving his fingers through her hair. “There are many duties she has besides tending to your needs. She has to manage your household staff, plan out your meals for you, and make sure everything is prepared for your nightly routine. The kitchen might not have finished your supper, for all you know.”

“Hm, I suppose.”

“And I believe you’ve exerted yourself enough for one evening, no?” he proposed.

“I guess,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “It’d still be funny,” she snorted. “She’s so squeamish sometimes. She'd looked away when I cut off a man's hand once, and cried like a baby." 

Hongjoong remembered that man. While thievery is frowned upon, the man’s reasoning was sound to Hongjoong: he was hungry. Rather than remove a finger for theft as is customary, Sookmyung chopped his hand. Piece by piece, he'd heard. Hongjoong did not see it, but you did. He wished he could remove the images from your mind, and replace them with ones of warmth and happiness. Yet, that is one thing a king cannot do.

“She’s delicate, Mistress,” Yeosang said next, coming up and kneeling beside Yunho. “Ladies like YN are sensitive to certain ghastly sights, and cannot handle them. She is not as strong as you; you cannot fault her for what is a part of her.”

“You all seem to be quite fond of her…” they all heard the accusation laced into her words, and Hongjoong knew what to say.

“She is not only your handmaiden, but your childhood companion,” he said, “She has become a large part of you. She’s almost an extension of yourself, and how can we not be fond of something that is a part of you?”

‘She is your slave. She is your property, therefore we care for her safety and spirit.’

"She is,” Sookmyung agreed, “I have known her my entire life. She has been there for me through the toughest times, and has never betrayed me. YN might be naive and simple, but she is the only person whom I can trust entirely.” Hongjoong saw her eyes glaze over as you crossed her mind, “If she serves me well, perhaps I’ll find a suitable husband for her myself. Someone worthy of my handmaiden and companion. Nobody of noble birth, of course, but maybe a nice stable boy or a cook-”

“-You summoned me, Your Majesty?”

Speak of an angel, and she shall appear. You parted the curtains leading into the harem room, still in your white uniform and hair braided down your back. The concubines did their best to not get an eyeful of you, but Hongjoong couldn’t help himself. While Sookmyung displayed pride and power, you showed more purity and grace. He liked that about you. 

“There you are,” said Sookmyung, standing up from the couch as if she hadn’t spent hours having sex with her concubines. Without an order, you picked up the bed robe hanging over one of the chairs to slide onto her arms. “I’m starving. Tell the cook to bring my supper here.”

“I already told them,” you said, pulling her hair out from inside the robe, “I know how exhausted you must be, so I thought you may find it more comfortable to eat here.”

“Ah, YN…” she smiled in satisfaction, “My father used to say the mark of a true servant is them knowing your commands before you’ve given them. You know me so well, YN.”

“It is my job to know you.”

Your eyes found him in the room as you quickly braided her hair from her face. Hongjoong knew complimenting you would raise suspicion with Sookmyung. 

“You’re an excellent handmaiden, YN,” said Yunho, “Knowing exactly what our Mistress needs at any given moment is a true talent.”

You bowed your head to him, but did not answer. You’re not allowed to unless Sookmyung permits it. You finished tying her hair, and stood aside while Sookmyung returned to one of the sofas nearby. Hongjoong forced himself to look away from you, knowing a lingering glance may have consequences for you. If she suspected anything between you both, you’d no longer be allowed in the house, and that would kill him. 

Sookmyung lounged across a sofa, resting against Wooyoung’s chest with her feet on San’s lap. "She truly is,” Sookmyung said. “YN, I was just telling my flowers that I should find you a proper husband.”

“That’s kind of you to consider, Your Majesty.”

“But, I have no idea what kind of men you like,” she frowned, and Hongjoong feared where this might be going.

“Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “What kind of men do you like? Athletic? Intelligent? Creative? Mysterious?”

“Um, I’ve never really thought about it before. I don’t have much time for men.”

“Well, if you did think about it.”

You averted your eyes from the men staring right at you. No doubt you think she is trying to trick you into a punishment. “I prefer simple men, Your Majesty. Ordinary people like me.”

“Psh, that’s no fun,” she scoffed. She paused for a moment, then said, “A woman like you needs a protector type. You know, somebody strong who will take care of you and be a proper provider. Your father isn’t around anymore, and once he’s gone, you’ll be a vulnerable little mouse. Sannie,” she turned to him, “Stand up.”

“Mistress?”

“Stand up,” she repeated more firmly.

San did not question her again and stood from the couch. “Take off your robe,” she said. “Let YN see what a protector’s body looks like.”

San removed his robe, letting it slide down his shoulders. Hongjoong saw red flushing up to his neck, cheeks, and ears as the room took in his naked form. You certainly did your best to not look at him.

“YN, look at him.”

“I’d rather not, Your Majesty.”

“Why not?”

“Because he isn’t my type.”

“You won’t know until you look.”

When you looked up at San, you did your best to not glance at his exposed groin. “Do you like it?”

“Um…well…”

“I won’t know what you like unless you tell me.”

“I think he’s nice, Your Majesty.”

“Nice? You clearly aren’t looking in the right places,” she said. “Yunho, make her look.”

“Mistress?”

“You heard me. YN clearly needs a bit of guidance. Show her where she should look.”

“Mistress, is this truly necessary?” asked Seonghwa. “YN is not as versed in sexual practices as you. Women like her are-”

“-She will be after tonight,” she grinned maliciously at your nervousness.

Yunho had taken two careful steps up to you when the doors at the end of the hall burst open. The sounds of struggling and feet stomping on the wooden floors froze everyone in place. A terrible feeling stirred in Hongjoong’s stomach when he heard a woman grunting. Through the curtains came two of Sookmyung’s guards, each of them holding the arm of someone dressed entirely in black. Naeun. Hongjoong let his shock show on his face, but disguised it as shock at the intrusion.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sookmyung shot up, outraged by their interruption. “What is going on?”

“We found this one sneaking about in your flower garden, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said. “She was carrying this.”

He showed a long dagger Naeun kept on her person at all times. The red band around the pummel made every lewd thought in Sookmyung’s mind disappear. Dark eyes glared at Naeun, who glared right back at her.

“A resistance fighter, huh?” She walked towards Naeun slowly, like a lioness stalking prey. “You truly believed you could sneak in here under the cover of night, armed with a pathetic little blade,” she took the blade from the guard and weighed it in her hands, “And think you can kill me? Hm, is that what you hoped to accomplish?” Naeun had the smarts not to respond. “You resistance bastards are like roaches. Right when I think I’ve stomped you out, you crawl your way back in.” She stuck the knife right underneath Naeun’s chin to force her eyes on her, “As I told the last rebel scum who snuck into my palace, your cause is hopeless. I control the trades. I control the fleet, the army, and the elite. Everyone and everything on this earth belongs to me, and I can do with it as I see fit.”

"You bitch,” Naeun gritted. “You won’t get away with this. Soon, our true monarch will rise from the shadows and strike you down. Death is coming for you, Sookmyung.”

“Not before it comes for you!”

“No, Mistress,” you rushed to her side to stay her hand, “Do not kill her.”

“What?!”

“Your Majesty, if this woman truly is a resistance fighter, she may have information on the people who sent her,” you explained breathlessly. “If you question her enough, she may tell you where the rebels are hiding. Those rebels have been a thorn in your side for so long, you might have the key to their undoing right in front of you.” When Sookmyung seemed unconvinced, breathing quickly on the verge of a kill, “Wouldn’t putting her in the cells be more fruitful than merely killing her? Particularly in front of the present company. You wouldn’t want your flowers to see the ugly side of you.”

Sookmyung mulled this option over, then said, “Yes. Yes, it would be more fruitful.” She smirked at Naeun, sliding the flat of the blade across her jawline, “I think we can learn very much from our ambitious friend here. Take her to the cells. YN and I will be there soon.”

“Yes, my queen," one of them said, bowing and taking Naeun away. 

“Should you not dress yourself properly, Your-” you'd begun to say. 

“-And get blood on my dress? I think not." Sookmyung turned to the men behind her, “Sleep well, Flowers. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Beloved,” Hongjoong called out to her, standing to meet her by the door, “How about you let YN go for the night and I will accompany you to the cells? She is not very well suited to interrogate someone properly, and she’ll be no help to you.” He pulled her closer to him, then whispered, “The others might find it ugly, but I find your fierceness to be…inspiring.” He brushed his lips on the edge of her ear, aware of you watching him.

“You do?”

“Always. A good queen should know when to be strong. YN isn’t like you; she’s soft and simple. Dismiss her for the night, and let me go with you.”

“You just want me all to yourself, don’t you?” she giggled, pecking his lips. “Fine, I will allow it this one time. YN, you’re dismissed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Hongjoong needed to get to Naeun. He's sure you stopped Sookmyung to keep Naeun alive or otherwise kill her quickly. But, he still had a greater need for her. He walked with Sookmyung out of the house, feeling your presence behind him. Naeun is a woman dedicated to the cause. Hongjoong sensed she will not give up the information easily, if at all. Knowing Sookmyung, she will drag out the pain for as long as possible before letting Naeun succumb to her wounds. Naeun will be alive enough to pass on the information she’d gotten from Changbin. Letting Sookmyung into the palanquin outside the house, he looked over to see you already walking away. You must feel relieved at being spared embarrassment and guilt for tonight. As he climbed into the seat, he knew he’d done at least one thing right tonight.

He braced himself for what he’d witness tonight. 

***

Sookmyung’s torture chambers ran deep underneath the palace jail. Sitting behind metal bars, “prisoners of interest” were locked up in small, low-ceiling rooms with nothing but a bed of straw to sleep on. Hongjoong’s nose wrinkled at the foul smells emanating from the different cells as they passed them. He did not dare glance inside any of them, a bit fearful of what he might find there. A sense of despair and dread came over him as he followed her down the aisle to the room at the end. He could imagine himself being a prisoner here, dragged out of a cell and inflicted with unimaginable agony. It sent shivers down his spine. 

“What do you think, love?” Sookmyung asked him, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Do you like it?”

“It’s innovative,” he said, having to come up with something. 

He dared peek into a cell, where he saw a long wooden box on the floor. He thought it might be a storage room before he saw the box begin to quake and faint screams came through the wood. It made his blood run cold. 

“You built this place yourself or was it always here?” he asked, moving along with her. 

“I built most of it, but it’d been in disuse for decades,” she said. “My father never approved of torture. He believed the punishment should fit the crime. I think differently. If the punishment is extreme, then the offender won’t think of doing it again.”

Hongjoong didn’t disagree. Not that he agreed either, but he wouldn’t say it out loud. Loud, painful screaming echoed from behind a wooden door, and this made Sookmyung stop to look through its small window. “Blossom, come look,” she smiled, glancing over to him and beckoning him forward, “They’ve lifted him to the ceiling.”

He made himself step over to her, and she let him see the naked man dangling from a pulley system. The jailors tied baskets of weights to his ankles so his legs stretched further. From what he could see, the baskets were nearly full. 

“You see, what they do is hang them from the ceiling,” she explained excitedly, “And then they keep adding weights to the baskets to bring their body downwards. It’s like a stretching rack, but vertical. I’ve found it quite marvelous to watch. If they hang there  long enough, their bones start dislodging from the sockets.”

“That’s…Beloved, we have an assassin to question. We shouldn’t keep the confessor waiting.”

“Oh alright,” she huffed, like a child being refused sweets, “But when we finish, I want to show you The Box. YN squirms whenever I open it, but you’re a strong man and she’s a little girl, so you can handle it better than her.” 

Hongjoong did not want to see ‘The Box’. He did not want to see any of this. If he asked, he’s sure whatever crime these people did to deserve these punishments is minor. ‘They stole a loaf of bread’, ‘They said treasonous things’, ‘They happened to be wearing the same color as me at a special occasion’. A queen, or any person, should not delight in the misery and pain of others. Capturing the revolting scenes before him only fueled his hate more, and solidified his cause. He’d get rid of Sookmyung. He’d kill her himself, if he must, and the consequences be damned. These people, whatever their crimes, do not deserve such torment. 

They finally reached a room at the end of the hall, which turned out to be a singular space with a fireplace, a tub of water, and a wooden chair. At a desk in the corner sat a record keeper, who prepared a new sheet of paper and an ink bottle to record whatever transpired here. Why this was needed, Hongjoong could only guess it was meant for Sookmyung to revisit later on her own. Strapped to a chair in the middle of the room was Naeun, blood dripping from a broken nose and a harsh mark on her cheek. He stayed in the shadows as Sookmyung approached her, eyes widening at the sight of her helpless victim. Naeun glanced over to him, and he wanted more than anything to save her, but that’d mean revealing his intentions for tonight. 

She’d started softly: questioning Naeun about the assassination attempt, who sent her, where were they and what else did they have planned. When Naeun did not answer, Sookmyung started slapping her. Then, she changed from a hand to a thick strip of leather. Then she used a long bamboo switch to strike Naeun’s hands until they bled. This did not disturb Hongjoong, since he’d witnessed such things during the war, but what Sookmyung escalated to shocked him. 

Teeth pulling. Nail ripping. Bone breaking. Stretching her until her bones popped. Naeun’s screams of pain bounced off the damp, stone walls and into his ears. Hongjoong knew he could not look away, even for a moment, because Sookmyung would notice. The queen herself cackled at Naeun’s pain, only asking questions as an afterthought. Hongjoong saw the delight in her eyes, and the gratification the torture gave her each time. He wondered if this is what you witnessed every time you came down here, and, if so, you are much stronger than he could ever be. 

“Fuck me,” Sookmyung growled at him, her eyes flaring and already lifting her robe. 

“What?” he asked, stunned by her appearance. Blood stained her fingers, and light sprays covered her face. She pressed him into a wall, and began untying his own robes. “Sookmyung! Mistress!”

“Doesn’t this arouse you like it arouses me?” she asked, feral and panting as she stroked him. “Do you not feel adrenaline coursing through your veins in every snap? Do her screams not make your loins burn like mine? Put it inside me, Hongjoong. Please. Your queen demands it!”

He pushed her away from him hard, and she gasped at his refusal. “I will not do this here,” he explained himself, fixing his robe closed, “I think you have gone far enough, Mistress. The woman will obviously not speak tonight. Let her wallow in her pain and reflect on her choices.” 

“I knew you were spineless,” she scowled at him. “A goddamn coward. That is how you ended up my whore, because you’re too cowardly to fight me. You’re a gormless, worthless, useless coward!” She grabbed a nearby pot of iron nails and threw it at him, though missed him by a few inches. “Let the bitch rot here for tonight, but come tomorrow, beloved,” she let the endearment hiss in her voice, “We’re going to return, and you’re going to question her for me.” 

“Mistress…”

“We’re done here,” she said to the room, her eyes burning on Hongjoong. 

He’d kill her then. He’d strap her to the chair and make it last as she would to him. Hongjoong watched her storm out of the room, and the jailors lifted Naeun from the floor. Her soft groan brought him out of his rage, and he looked over at her. From her half-opened eyes and shallow breaths, she still lived. Hongjoong followed the men out of the cell, then in the opposite direction of the entrance. The men did not question why he followed them, and nobody batted an eye when he watched them dump her body on straw. Hongjoong waited until they left to crouch down beside the bed. They must’ve assumed he wouldn’t try helping her, or that she'd die before he could. 

“Naeun,” he whispered as quietly as possible, worried his voice may carry, “Naeun, can you hear me?” 

Her head on the straw, he saw her remain motionless. 

“Naeun,” he said once more, the worse coming to mind. “Naeun, please…” She muttered something incoherently, and he moved in closer to listen. “Naeun?”

Naeun wriggled on the bed, shifting as little as she could before stopping all together. Hongjoong held his breath. For a few seconds, Naeun stayed silent and still. He considered the fact that she may have died before her head slowly turned upwards to him. One eye swollen shut, the other suffered enough damage that blood vessels popped and filled the white of her eye. He noticed her mouth stopped bleeding from the pulled teeth, and a bloody gash congealed on her chin. Despite all this torture and pain, he still spotted a glimmer of defiance in her eyes. He saw her rifling around underneath her collar, bloody fingers barely grasping the necklace around her throat. When he saw her struggling to remove it, Hongjoong took it by the charm and tugged the thin rope. Opening his palm, he saw a wooden dove in flight. 

“Crack…it,” she slurred, unable to move from her position. 

Hongjoong took the wooden charm and smashed it against the floor. After a few hits, it split open to reveal a thin scroll inside. Hongjoong picked it up and gave her a quizzical look. 

“Read it,” she croaked, “Alone.”

Tightly holding it in his fist, Hongjoong nodded and put the scroll in his pocket. Then, he looked at her. “You were brave, Naeun,” he said, “I wish I shared such resilience.”

“You d-do, Your Majesty,” she said, coughing and breathing deeply. “You do.” She took his hand in hers, and said, “Your people need you, sire. Please…help…help them.”

“I will,” he nodded. “I promise I will.” 

Hongjoong knelt there for several minutes, listening to Naeun’s shallow breaths becoming fainter and fainter with time. When the torchlight fell on her face, he realized how young she was. He wondered about her. She must have a family; a husband too, perhaps, and possibly a child. A child who will now grow up without her, never to feel her warm embrace or gentle kisses again. Sookmyung took that from them. She'd taken it from him too. He watched her eyes slowly closing through his tears. 

“I am going to make her pay, Naeun,” he said, sniffling. “You have my word. She will receive justice for what she has done.” 

He recalled every time he could’ve ended Sookmyung’s life. He thought of the times she laid soundlessly sleeping in his bed or the moments they spent in the privacy of their garden. All the times he could’ve fed her poison, or how he could’ve strangled her during sex. Yet, he had not. He’d let her live, afraid of the consequences each time he thought of them. Seeing Naeun fade from the world spilled tears down his cheeks, and filled him with self-loathing. He is a coward. He should be the one Sookmyung tortured, not Naeun. 

“Forgive me,” he whispered thickly, breathing back his tears. 

Naeun did not speak, and he did not expect her to either. Yet, with her last breath she said, “For Wonju…” 

And then she was gone. Hongjoong finally stood, and walked out of the cell. He informed the jailor, but did not stick around to elaborate. A sudden weight held him down. He trudged through the foul chambers, with the guilt holding him down. He did nothing. He’d watched the woman be senselessly tortured, and there’d been nothing he could do to help her. When he walked outside, he found Sookmyung waiting for him in the palanquin. He stared at her hard. The scroll in his pocket felt multitudes heavier than it should. 

“Don’t be so weepy. Real men don’t weep,” she said in a yawn. “I’m tired. Get in and let us be on our way.”

He climbed in without a word. Naeun did this for him. She’d risked her life to give him this information. Naeun knew this scroll was the key to saving their homeland; she’d died getting it to him. He would make sure her death was not in vain. 

Thankfully, Sookmyung’s exhaustion kept her from speaking too much. It gave him time to think without her incessant interruptions. By the time they reached the house again, he’d jumped out of the palanquin and stormed off. This sign of resentment made her call after him, but he did not hear her. He did not care. Her voice only irritated the rage brewing inside him. Let her beat him tomorrow, if she wishes. Tonight, he had more important concerns.  

As expected, the only light in the house was the moonlight coming in through the windows. He suspected his brothers already ate and retired to their rooms. Good. He did not wish to be disturbed. Rushing into his chambers, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, he didn’t realize someone was already there until he’d shut his doors. 

“Hongjoong?”

Seonghwa sat on his bed, reading a book by candlelight. He’d changed into a long tunic, and tied back his hair from his face. He stood up the moment he spotted Hongjoong’s puffy eyes and wet cheeks. In the safety of his embrace, Hongjoong sobbed hard. He clung onto his lover’s broad shoulders, fingers pressing into the muscles, and sobbed against his shoulder. Everything that transpired in the past few hours crashed onto him and only Seonghwa’s soft shushing and back rubbing soothed his cries. Quietly, he let Seonghwa remove his clothes, but not before Hongjoong withdrew the scroll. 

“What is this?” Seonghwa asked in a hushed whisper, seeing the scroll. 

“Naeun,” he explained, taking a breath, “This is what she wanted to give me.”

Seonghwa nodded in understanding, then stood by as he broke open the seal. In thin writing, Hongjoong saw a message scribbled:

‘Han Sookmyung is not King Siwon’s only living heir. The person who gave us this information will meet you in the palace temple at noon tomorrow. They will ask you what you pray for today. We pray for home. We pray for Wonju. For Wonju, we serve.’ 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong stood there in silence. The words marinated in their minds, and he still had difficulty believing them. Hongjoong reread the message again. ‘The person who gave us this information…’ A person? What ‘person’? Nobody in particular came to mind immediately. It also seemed borderline insane to write the starting line. Changbin seemed confident that nobody else but Hongjoong would read it, if he so brazenly wrote this down. 

He was confident because he’d sent it with Naeun.

“Another heir?” Seonghwa gaped. “Could it be?”

“There is only one way to find out.”

“You will meet this informant of theirs, then?”

“I will. I must." 

He slipped into bed, and surprisingly, Seonghwa joined him. “And I will go with you," Seonghwa said, pushing hair from his face. 

The two men curled beside one another, enjoying each other’s warmth and presence. His last thought, as he drifted, was of Naeun’s dying words. 

“For Wonju…”

***

A/N: thank you so much for the love and feedback I got from some people! I wasn't sure if people would like a historical au, but I love them so I wrote one lol I hope you guys liked this one, and please feel free to like and reblog <3 spread the love <3

[sevngmin148]

god this fic is so good…i can’t wait to read more

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 1 (SeongjoongxReader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader

Word Count: 7k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Part 2 >

***

"YN!"

You heard her howl your name from down the hall. The sound of her voice made you quicken your pace, a streak of panic striking through you. 

"YN! YN, where are you?!”

Her voice sent ice cold water through your veins. You’d left her alone with the others for only a moment. What could possibly have happened in the span of five minutes? A slew of scenarios ranging in severity ran through your mind. Somebody brushed her hair too hard. Somebody smeared her lip paint. Somebody said the wrong thing or the right thing but in the wrong way. You preferred not thinking of what she’d done to that person. 

“YN!”

You walked through the wooden hallway, keeping your head down to not draw much attention to yourself. A habit, you supposed, that you’d learned since being her handmaiden. Finally reaching her room, you gave the guard outside a single glance and he slid the door open for you. 

“She’s in a mood today,” he told you gruffly. “You’d think after the night she had, she’d be more docile.”

“She’s never docile,” you replied. “I’ll handle her.”

“As always.” 

You didn’t find her in the front room of her apartments, where servants put out her morning tea and breakfast spread. Walking past the red and cream colored couches, with their low wooden tables, you moved past more servants cleaning the window frames and floors spotless. You opened the doors leading into her bedroom. Two maids in plain hanboks changed her bed sheets and fluffed her pillows. They gave you both a concerned look, which you replied to with a nod.

“YN!”

“Your Majesty, I am here. What is your command?”

Sookmyung stood on a platform in the middle of her dressing room. Four girls dressed in white hanboks kept their heads down and hands clasped together, a sign of their subservience to the woman. Queen Han Sookmyung only wore the emerald skirt of her hanbok, her long black hair unbraided and falling down her back, and you saw the issue immediately. The top layer of her gown laid on the floor at her feet, a bundle of more emerald cloth bordered with golden vines.

“My command is that I want these imbeciles out of my sight!” she screeched, stamping her foot on the platform. “I told this one to bring the blue and gold one. She brought the green and gold!”

“A simple mistake, Your Majesty, I am sure,” you said calmly, walking further into the room. “Aro,” you turned to one of the handmaidens nearest you, “Please bring Her Majesty the dark blue and gold dress. It’s in the fourth box on the second shelf.” She bowed to you, then briskly left for the closet in the other room.

“YN, send them away. I cannot stand looking at them any longer.”

“You are all dismissed for now.”

The remaining handmaidens bowed, then left the room without a word. You moved over to her and began untying the skirt from her torso. Discontent still read on Sookmyung’s thin, oval face. Once the young queen flew into one of her rages, it was difficult to bring her back down. It was why you instructed the handmaidens to do as she said down to the last word. It saved everyone lots of trouble. 

When you gingerly removed the skirt, leaving her in the underskirt and undergarments, you saw yourself in the long mirror. Your white dress nearly blended in with the brightly colored room around you.  Like all female monarchs, she surrounded herself with handmaidens. The distinction was Sookmyung demanded her female servants be virgins, who all wore white to make Sookmyung stand out against them. Being the eldest of her handmaidens, a companion since childhood, your uniform differed in the red ribbon keeping your top half closed. Yet, even then you mustn’t draw too much attention to yourself. How can The Queen shine if her servants looked more beautiful than her? 

“They’re such simpletons,” she grunted. “I do not know what is so difficult. How can one possibly confuse blue with green?”

“I am certain she misheard you, Your Majesty.” Deflect her displeasure. You glanced over to the vanity where someone laid out her jewelry. They’d chosen the dangling gold earrings and matching hair ornaments. “Look at this set, Your Majesty,” you gave a soft gasp, walking over to the jewelry, “These earrings are absolutely divine! Are they not?”

“They are fine enough,” she replied haughtily. “At least the fool chose something that matches.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. “I am surprised she had any fashion sense at all, to be honest.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she sneered, flipping a loose strand of hair from her shoulder. “Send the idiot away when she returns. You will dress me today.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

When the girl returned, you took the long, flat box and dismissed her quietly. Not a sound. Not a whisper or a mumble. That was how servants communicated: discreetly and hurriedly. With everyone gone, only you two remained. You began unwrapping the separate pieces of Sookmyung’s dress from the box. The blue skirt remained plain, while golden dragons interweaved around her shoulders and along the middle of the top. The gold paint shined whenever she moved her torso, and the voluminous skirt gave an illusion of gliding instead of walking.

“I am taking visitors today,” she mused as you began brushing her hair. You took care not to let the brush snag in her waist-length strands. The ring on her finger looked like it’d cut your cheek. “Merchants and common people.”

“Your people wish to speak with you, Your Majesty,” you replied, pulling back her hair to start braiding. “They seek your wisdom and guidance.”

“As they should,” she said, admiring the golden ring on her finger. “I am their queen. They need to heed my words and obey them.”

You would’ve told her that giving advice and giving commands are different things, but you knew better.

After many failed pregnancies, King Siwon and Queen Jisoo finally produced a child in their fourth year. Sookmyung became her father’s sole heir to the throne. Being the only heir, the king groomed his daughter for rule. You wanted to say that Sookmyung ignored her lessons and took no interest in them, but that is far from the truth. Sookmyung devoured her father’s wise council and listened attentively at his elbow. She followed the master at arms around the training yard, learning how to use a sword and bow. She spent time in the stables learning how to tame and ride horses. Everyone hoped her eagerness meant she’d be a good and capable queen, but you knew better. Unlike the king’s council, you knew why Sookmyung took to the idea of ruling the kingdom so quickly.

There’d be nobody to stop her. 

“I heard Kim Haneul wishes to propose to you,” you said, hoping the gossip keeps her occupied. You styled her hair up from her face to accentuate her facial features and long neck, sliding bejeweled pins to keep it in place. “He has had his eye on you for a long time.”

“Which one is he again?” she asked, stumped. “He isn’t the fat one, is he?”

“No, Your Majesty,” you faked an amused giggle. You grabbed her eoyeo meori, the circular wig with its golden adornments. Placing it as a halo around her head before pinning it in place, you continued. “That is Advisor Heechul’s son. Haneul is the son of the new Duke of Daegu. He’s that handsome one who won your archery contest at last year’s harvest festival. I heard from some of the maids that he favors you highly.”

“Of course he does,” she scoffed, double checking the work you’d done. “I’m a queen. He’s a common nobleman.”

“Yes, he is,” you nodded, “But he will approach you nevertheless, Your Majesty.”

“Who told you this nonsense?”

“One of the kitchen hands,” you told her, picking up a powder box from the vanity. “She said she overheard it from Haneul and one of his companions. I thought I’d tell you to prepare you for it should he ask today.” You then added, “I know how much you dislike surprises. I’d hate for him to spring it on you, and you be flustered in making a decision.”

“Yes, I do despise it.” She kept herself still as you began lightly applying powder to her face. “Haneul…Haneul…You say he’s the handsome archer from last year?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Hm, must not be remarkable if I did not collect him already,” she mused. A small smile crossed her face, “Have you seen my flowers today, YN?”

“I haven’t,” you answered honestly. “You know as well as I that no one is permitted in your garden.”

“Oh, my beautiful flowers,” she sighed softly. “They bring me such comfort.” 

You saw her eyes glaze over as they did when she spoke of Them. Those at court called them ‘The Golden Ones’, but Sookmyung called them her ‘flowers’. You pondered on the men while you finished painting her lips. Upon his death, king Siwon had twenty-five concubines living in the “private gardens” near the king’s quarters. Sookmyung dismissed them all the morning after his death, determined to fill it with concubines of her own. You and her advisors told her queens did not usually take male concubines, since she is meant to marry and produce children. Sookmyung ignored all of you. During her war campaign across the country, she searched for handsome men to bring into her harem. Yet, with all things, she was picky. Her concubines needed to be ethereal beauties; they needed to be trophies that would make her the envy of the court. She eventually found them, imprisoned them, and then put them in the gardens to do what she pleased. 

Sookmyung currently has eight concubines. No doubt should another war arise, she will steal more sons.

“Tell the guard to bring my flowers to the throne room today,” she said, admiring herself in the mirror when you finished. “I wish for them to be there. They do bring me relief on days like today.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” You picked up a purple perfume box, but Sookmyung shook her head. 

“No, not jasmine. Hongjoong detests jasmine scents.”

‘He does not. It’s you he detests.’ 

“Then will you prefer the lavender or the rose perfume?”

“Lavender. It has such a calming effect on him,” she said when you started dabbing the scent on her neck and wrists. “My fiery blossom. I know he will be furious if that fool Haneul comes forward. His jealousy is only outmatched by my own, I’m afraid.”

“Well, seeing other men fawn over you must make him believe your love for him will wane and disappear,” a male voice said from somewhere behind you. “We cannot fault him for his emotions.”

You turned your head to see an old man walk into the room. His salt-and-pepper hair cut short, he’d left his thin mustache and beard growing past throat to his chest. Wrinkled by age, Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik served the royal family since Sookmyung’s grandfather’s time. In the red robes of a first rank advisor, he walked further into the room. He smiled at Sookmyung, giving her a slight bow as their eyes met. 

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, looking back at herself, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see if you’d be joining us in the throne hall for petitions this morning,” he asked. “The other advisors and I believe it will show the people an image of concern if you are seen on your father’s throne-”

“-You mean my throne,” she cut him off. “I am the queen.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” he smiled, giving a nod of the head, “Old habits die hard.”

“Or easily,” you heard her mutter. “But, yes I will be there today. Tell the other officials to worry.”

“That is a relief to hear,” he grinned. “We look forward to seeing you there.”

“Mhm-hm.”

His attention turned to you, “Good day, YN.”

“Good day, Senior Advisor,” you gave a slight bow and a smile. 

It was the briefest of glances but you noticed it right away. Eyes lined with crows feet looked between you and Sookmyung, with a certain disappointment lingering in them. The expression did not sit right with you, but it was not your place to question. Advisor Choi left, and you and Sookmyung were alone again. He seemed to be filled with words he could not say out loud. Then again, many people did the same. It was Sookmyung’s chuckle that caught your attention.

“The old man likes you,” she cackled. “Out of all the men in the world, it’s the ancient one.”

“He was being polite,” you said to her, cheeks burning from her laughter. 

“He doesn’t have to be ‘polite’ to you,” she said. “He outranks you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted you as his concubine. It is disgusting to think about,” she shuddered, “Those knobbly hands on you and those lips. Don’t worry, YN. I won’t let him touch you.”

“That is kind of you, Your Majesty.”

“You must be envious of me, YN. I have my beautiful flowers and you have nobody,” she said thoughtfully, “I spend ages worshiping Seonghwa’s gorgeous body or listening to Jongho sing and you're here all alone. It must be sad."

“It can be, but I hope one day that will change,” you told her. You grabbed the blue overcoat from the box, letting her stand to put it on her. “I may find someone who is patient and clever. The kind of man who treats his lady well and is gracious and kind.” A man such as Seonghwa. But, that was a thought you immediately pushed out. 

“Men like that are needles in a haystack. Only I have been fortunate to find such lovely beauties like my flowers,” she said. “Like Hongjoong…”

You followed her out of the bedroom. Hongjoong’s face came to the forefront of your mind. The last of Sookmyung’s flowers, he’d quickly become her favorite. You saw how he fawned over her, and constantly whispered things in her ear that made her giggle. Secretly, you wished it was you he whispered to, but you knew that wouldn’t be. Hongjoong is placed far out of your reach, just like the rest of them. As you followed her out of her room, you bit your lip thinking about the last time she made you stay in their “garden”. Sookmyung took delight in seeing you flustered and squirming when she took one of them. Like all her handmaidens, you’d kept your virginity intact, which she enjoyed teasing you about. But, if you had your pick, you'd have him or Seonghwa. Possibly even both. 

Four men dressed in black and red leather armor met you outside her chambers. You whispered the summons to one of them, and he passed it along to one of the guards at the main doors. A wooden palanquin sat at the bottom steps of the residency building, a red awning keeping the sun from hitting Sookmyung as she climbed inside. You, however, stayed on the outside. You eyed the spot beside her, a seat wide enough for you both to fit, but you knew she’d never offer it to you. The queen rides in the palanquin. Her handmaiden walks. 

“But you wouldn’t understand anything about that,” Sookmyung giggled as the footmen lifted the litter and the group moved. You walked steadily at her side, making sure to keep yourself in step. Move too slow, and she’ll complain that you’re lagging behind. Move too quickly, and she’ll accuse you of trying to upstage her. “You are unmarried and are still a virgin.”

“That does not mean I cannot love, Your Majesty, or understand how it works,” you replied calmly. You sensed the taunt skirting around her words, and you braced yourself for more. “I see how Hongjoong and the others are when you’re in their presence. It is like seeing heaven on earth. They worship you. They adore you. I think we all can only hope for such love to come into our lives.”

“How sweet,” she pouted, “It must be nice to have such naive and fanciful dreams about love. I’m afraid it is not always so heavenly.” You noticed her face turn sour, “I see how those little harlots in court gawk at them whenever they pass. They see my flowers and sigh over them.” You saw her fold her hands over one another on her lap, “I remember that one idiot who tried seducing my Mingi. She had that pathetic, simpering smile and that obnoxious laugh. Ugh, it was a humiliating display," a wicked smirk came across her face, "But, I put a stop to that all together. You remember that, do you not, YN?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I do.” 

Lady Seulgi, a noblewoman draped in expensive adornments, had come to the palace during a birthday celebration. You recall how Sookmyung spotted her eyeing Mingi, one of the concubines, and the jealousy flaring in her eyes. You’d done all you could to convince Sookmyung that she saw nothing; Lady Seulgi happened to look in his direction, that was all. This lie worked for a time, before someone else spotted Lady Seulgi trying to corner Mingi in the palace garden. Sookmyung immediately had Lady Seulgi thrown into the dark, secluded jails in the back of the palace. Walking up the steps of a gate to reach the throne hall, you recall seeing Lady Seulgi removed of her finery and forced into a roughspun tunic. The beautiful, bold lady you’d seen that night became a filthy, frightened creature within days. You tried not remembering the stubs of her missing fingers, or the screams she made when Sookmyung pulled out her toenails one at a time. 

‘Make her ugly. Make her so ugly nobody will look at her.’ 

Nobody heard from Seulgi ever again. 

You spotted masses of people filling the wide throne courtyard. Nobles and commoners alike came to petition their problems to the queen, and it created a multi-colored sea of people in the square. Right when the palanquin passed through the gate, a group of soldiers dressed in red and white began playing on either side of the large doors. Two held horns, two banged on drums, one with cymbals, and another held a gong as they walked down the aisle. 

“The Queen is entering!” the leader called out in a booming voice, which caught everyone's attention. 

The daechwita played as they led the procession towards the throne hall. You kept your eyes to the ground now, making yourself as invisible as possible, and followed the palanquin the entire way. You chanced a glance at Sookmyung, whose eyes danced with pride. This is what she loved. This is why she scorched villages and killed kings. The power that emanated from the people bowing to her seemed to swell in her chest. You pitied anyone who upset her today.  They may end up the same way as Lady Seulgi if they’re not careful. 

The palanquin reached the throne hall’s platform, and footmen helped Sookmyung out of it. You briskly straightened out the back of her gown, and then stepped out of her way. The throne hall was wide with open windows, lattice walls, and a high decorative ceiling. Before his death, the king sat on the throne of his ancestors before him. A red throne painted with gold dragons, with a folded screen stood behind depicting the sun, moon, and mountains. It took someone three steps to reach the top of the platform, which only gave enough space for the king and two bodyguards to occupy. 

When Sookmyung came into power, she expanded on this inch by inch. She rebuilt the throne itself to have a taller back to rest on, and raised the platform a several more steps to open it up. This way, her concubines may sit on the steps in comfort, lounging peacefully on display for the whole court. Nobody said it out loud, but you knew why she wanted them with her. How can she flaunt her victories if the trophies are hidden behind garden walls? It made you sick. She not only desecrated the ancient throne, which for centuries stood as a symbol of dignity, but put her own proudful twist on it as well. You followed her up the steps, and walked right to your place in the shadows of the high dais. 

“All hail the Queen!” the singer called out. 

“All hail the Queen!” most of the crowd repeated back. 

Back in her father’s day, the king would speak to his subjects directly. He’d thank them for traveling to visit him, and begin accepting petitions and propositions. Sookmyung stayed silent, eyeing the crowd, while Senior Advisor Choi stepped in front of the throne. 

“Good people, good people,” he called, “It is our queen’s great delight and honor to host you here in her grand throne hall today. She is very interested to hear your thoughts and find solutions for your concerns. May the first of the petitioners step forward, please.”

The first to approach were two men. You took in their haggard appearance: clothes hanging from their skinny frames, worn out shoes on their feet, and their skin tanned from years in the sun. You could tell they must work outdoors, most likely in one of Sookmyung’s rice or spice fields. The taller man spoke up first, fire in his voice already.

“Your Majesty, I have been severely wronged in your great country,” he began. “This man,” he pointed to the person beside him, “Has been extending his land onto mine little by little for several months now!”

“Your Majesty, I have done no such thing! I was merely rebuilding my fences, and happened to accidentally-”

“-Accidentally? Ha, please! Do not try to fool us into believing you do not know where your land ends and mine begins,” his opponent retorted. “You have been rebuilding that fence of yours for quite some time. The stakes from the last rebuild are still in the ground, and they are several feet from where they’d been before.”

“My son has been helping me, Your Majesty,” the man said to Sookmyung. “He is not the brightest of boys, but he is strong and helpful to me in my old age. He must have marked the line wrong-”

“-How despicable! To blame your deception on your own flesh and blood-”

“-I am only providing a possible explanation! Besides, why do you care? It is not as if you tend to your fields regularly or properly. I have seen the grain you grow. It is subpar at best, and inedible at worst. I am the superior farmer, therefore I should have more land…”

“This is so boring,” Sookmyung mumbled loud enough for you to hear. “Who cares about a stupid farm?”

“Their farms are important to them, Your Majesty,” you replied. “It is the only way they can feed themselves and their families.”

“Psh, as if they are now. Look how skinny they are. It’s appalling.”

“Yes, it is.”

Your heart sank hearing the two men describe their feud to one another. You thought of your own solution: You would’ve told them to have an official come and inspect the property lines for them to have an unbiased opinion. You’d pay builders from the city to repair the fence damage and realign it to avoid any more confusion. They would have done that already if they could afford to pay for the help. Sookmyung’s high taxes and the wealthy’s low wages make it difficult for the common folk of the kingdom to live properly. The few times you’d gone into the city for her, you’d seen the way most of them live day-to-day. They’re starving, unable to properly care for themselves or their children, and barely afford to pay their land owners. In their desperation, many of them venture into the Queen’s forest to hunt for food, with hopes of not being caught by guards roaming the perimeters. Others resort to criminal activities, since the slum lords pay much better than their law abiding counterparts. Sookymung’s kingdom fell into poverty because of the grand lifestyle she wished to live and the wars she'd waged. While her people starved, the queen and her elite nobles dined and dressed well. It sickened you to your stomach. 

“...Which of them brings in more grain?” Sookmyung asked the senior advisor. 

Senior Choi looked to Advisor Park, the master of coin who took care of the kingdom’s finances. It took the middle-aged man a moment, but he eventually found their names and most recent tax payments. The accused paid more in his taxes and supplied more grain than his accuser.

“Then it is clear that he deserves more land than this one,” Sookmyung told Choi. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

Choi stared up at her, but he did not look as dumbfounded as his fellow advisors. For the briefest moment, you caught disdain in his dark eyes. Nevertheless, he turned away and addressed the men. 

“Then it is clear that…that he deserves more land than this one,” you heard him repeat stoically. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

“B-B-But, Your Majesty, my family has owned that farm for many years,” he said imploringly. “It is not right!”

“Perhaps his family should find a new venture and stop wasting my time", Sookmyung huffed. “The man will keep his fence where it is, and you will accept my decision.”

Choi repeated her words verbatim, and the man’s jaw dropped. “Your Majesty-”

“-Next,” she dismissed him through Choi.

Both men were forced to the side by guards. Right as the next person came up, drums and horns suddenly rang throughout the large hall. Sookmyung’s eyes lit up and she beamed at the people entering the room.

“Her Majesty’s concubines approach!” the leader said. “Make way for The Golden Ones! Make way!”

Surrounded by four guards dressed in all black armor walked a group of eight men.

As always, Sookmyung’s concubines wore their black and gold hanboks: Their overcoats of black silk covered most of their body, the wide sleeves ending far past their fingers. Glimmering stones weaved into the intricate floral patterns of their golden sashes, matching the hair pins and jewelry they wore. What separated them the most were their veils. Thin veils hanging from their ears hung to their chests, the sheer fabric dotted with gold pieces to hide their features. Only you and Sookmyung ever saw their faces unmasked. She said the less they revealed of themselves, the less likely anybody would desire them.

A complete and utter lie, in your opinion.

“My beautiful flowers,” she smiled, eyes full of fondness. “So wonderful to see you early in the morning,” she watched them walk up the steps to their assigned seats on the steps.

The farthest was Jongho, who sat on the third step from the bottom, lounging back with one elbow on the step above him. The youngest of her flowers, he kept his black hair in a braid that was woven with gold bands. Formerly an innkeeper’s son, Sookmyung stole him from his family during the end of her campaign. You never forgot how Sookmyung viciously beat the old woman who begged her not to take him; how Jongho did not stop crying the entire way back to the capital.

“Your braid looks lovely today, Jongho,” Sookmyung admired, looking over his round, soft features from afar.

“I am glad you think so, Mistress,” he said, “I added the jewels especially for you.”

“I’m wearing the hair band you gifted me, Mistress,” said a slender boy sitting just above him.

Wooyoung. The son of the Duke of Pyongyang, the siege of his city took Sookmyung only a few days. She often boasted about how their forces retreated from her men like mice. As with the other kingdoms, she gifted the seat of House Jung to one of her allies, and took the duke’s son for herself. Wooyoung fled into the woods, being hunted by Sookmyung and her pack of dogs for several days before being found and dragged to camp. You preferred not thinking about what Sookmyung did to break him.

You noticed the young man winced when he moved to face her. From what you’d gathered, Sookmyung visited his chambers the previous night. Whatever she’d done left him sore and holding back whimpers of pain. The tenderness inside you wished to reach out for him. You wished to comfort and assure him that his pain will subside soon. His wounds will heal and he will be fine. But, how ‘fine’ is he when Sookmyung owns him?

“It looks lovely on you, darling,” Sookmyung said. Another peasant was brought before her, but she ignored him. “You were magnificent last night. You and San both.”

San, muscular and broad, sat across from Wooyoung. Thin eyes flickered with hate before changing to pure seduction. “As were you, Mistress.”

Choi San used to be a soldier in Sookymung’s army. His father, General Choi, was a general who commanded a large portion of her forces. One day, when his battalion was overpowered and forced to retreat, Sookmyung took this failure as a sign of weakness. It inflamed her burning rage, and Sookmyung sentenced the man to a brutal death: being beaten with clubs by his own lieutenants. San was forced to watch the entire thing. From what you’d heard, he still woke up screaming for his father to run.

“Mistress, I’m sleepy,” said the man sitting above San and Wooyoung. Long-limbed with sleek brown hair, he gave an audible yawn and stretched. “I sleep so lightly without you beside me.”

Another sweet lie to fill her head with dreams. Sookmyung’s war took her all over the country, and this meant bypassing several inns and small villages. When attacking Haeju, Sookmyung camped outside a small fishing village right on the west coast. There, she found plenty of provisions and ship builders to repair the damaged fleet. With them came a tall, lean young man with brown hair and a precious smile. Song Mingi. You’d originally thought Sookmyung took Mingi for a fleeting fancy, but when she told him that he’d be joining the other men she’d dragged with her, he naturally refused. It wasn’t until Sookmyung threatened to kill his entire family that he went with her.

Sookmyung burnt down his whole village, ultimately murdering his family anyways.

“Perhaps I may remedy that tonight, lovely,” she replied, smirking at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t want my Mingi to collapse from lack of proper rest.”

“Then what of me, Mistress?” a wide-eyed young man said on the other side. “You said you’d be with me.”

Dainty and petite, Kang Yeosang was also nobility. While not high in rank, his family did supply the opposition with food and resources throughout the war. Sookmyung created the strategy to hit them at their source, which included raiding baggage supply trains moving through the country. Yeosang led one such train, and while his men fought valiantly, they were defeated. Yeosang, having an angelic look to him with doe-like eyes, became another addition to her growing harem. She promised he’d go home if his family surrendered their land and resources to her, so Yeosang agreed. But, Yeosang never went home. It took him a short time to realize that Sookmyung never planned on ransoming him. When he heard her forces invaded his home, slaughtered his family, and claimed it in her name, he knew he’d never see home again.

“You can join us then, Yeosangie,” she cooed.

A peasant woman holding a baby in a blanket came forward, tearful and pleading for her child’s life. Sookmyung hardly listened to her as she addressed the man next to Yeosang: Yunho. Equally as tall as Mingi, he kept his black in a top knot with a black band around his forehead. A servant placed a bowl of grapes in front of him, but he did not eat them. He could never eat with Sookmyung around. She disgusted him to the point of losing his appetite. 

“Yunho, are you not hungry?”

“I had a large breakfast, Mistress.”

He turned his head to answer her, then back to the woman standing before him. She sobbed about how a group of men ransacked her home, taking everything she owned and leaving her with nothing but her life. You saw the pity in his puppy-dog eyes. He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a velvet coin purse. You knew that Yunho sometimes secretly slipped silver or gold coins to the servants when possible. 

“Here,” Yunho walked down the steps to her, “For your and your child.”

“S-Sir…” she wept, looking at the large sum in her hand, “I…I cannot…” she glanced at Sookmyung, who glared. “I cannot accept this-”

“-I insist,” Yunho said, not reaching or touching her. It’d put a mark on her back for certain. “You need it more than me.”

“Thank you,” she cried, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Isn’t my Yunho generous?” Sookmyung said, though her grin did not reach her ears. “He is always thinking of others.”

“It is why you noticed me, Mistress, is it not?”

He came back to his seat and your eyes briefly met his. Yunho, not of noble birth, lived in a farming village before outlaws came and raided them. By the time Sookmyung arrived, several villagers either died or were grievously injured. Being the son of the town physician, Yunho tended to several of the children, frightened and wounded from the bandits. Sookmyung not only found it endearing, but saw Yunho’s apparent handsomeness. She promised he’d be her personal physician’s apprentice, learning at the elbow of the finest in the kingdom. He only needed to travel with her for a few days. But, when she placed him in the harem tent with the others, he realized what his role would truly be. It is only fortunate that Yunho is able to tend to whatever wounds the concubines suffer at Sookmyung’s hands.

“It is,” she nodded. “You’re just as sweet as my Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa sat on a cushion a step right beneath Sookmyung. The eldest of the Golden Ones, his sharp jawline and full lips enchanted Sookmyung right away. Son of an advisor to another king, he’d attempted to trade his life for his younger brother, whom she’d gifted to a group of loyalists during her victory celebration. Unfortunately, this did not work. His younger brother was carried off by the men while Seonghwa was dragged to her new chambers. From what you know, Seonghwa hasn’t seen his brother since then. 

His father having been a notable advisor, Senior Advisor Choi has often sought him out for counsel and opinion. You supposed this intelligence is why he’d managed to last so long. He gave her a dashing smile, and spoke in his deep voice.

“But nobody is as sweet as you, Mistress,” he licked his lips, “Nobody certainly tastes as sweet either.”

“Seonghwa,” she flipped open her fan and gave it to you to fan her, “You always know what to say.”

Her eyes then landed on the concubine sitting on her left, elbow on the arm of the throne and appearing bored. Black hair tied back in a ponytail, Sookmyung gifted him with a red headband to wear around his head. Embroidered flowers in the center, this symbol of Sookmyung’s favoritism set him apart from the others. You’re sure that the reason she favored him so highly is not only his handsomeness, but the fact that he’d been a true prince. Hongjoong, Crowned Prince of Wonju. 

Wonju was a peaceful, plentiful kingdom that remained its own nation after the Han clan took over the country. Somewhere far off in the east, you remember the mountain ranges that surrounded the area, high and steep so that very few enemies could pass. It’d been ruled over by the Kim clan, with King Hyungshik at the head. A king in his own right, it was peace terms with the Hans that prevented open warfare. You’d always understood both nations to live side-by-side in harmony. Then Sookmyung became queen, and she could not have another monarch in her country. 

But, Wonju did not fall to Sookmyung as easily. Several bloody and fierce battles were found on land and sea, ripping the two nations apart in the process. Several kingdoms sided with Wonju, but they’d been overpowered by the queen’s men. Sookmyung’s triumph over Wonju became a lasting highlight of her conquest. She’d taken Hongjoong as a further stab to those who’d rebel and oppose her. To her, he is her biggest trophy. 

“Mistress, please let us be done with this riff-raff,” Hongjoong drawled, “And entertain ourselves elsewhere. This business bores me to tears.”

Yet, even after the death of their royal family, the people of Wonju oppose Sookmyung and the man she put in charge of them. Many resistance fighters her armies capture are from Wonju. You wondered at what point did they stop trying to rescue Hongjoong and focus their efforts on usurping Sookmyung. You knew he hated Sookmyung, regardless of what he said to the contrary. You’d hate her too if you were him. But, Hongjoong had secrets of his own.

You’d never tell anyone about the woman you’d seen him meeting at night.

“It is part of my duty as queen, blossom,” she told him, lifting his chin to make him look at her. “Advisor Choi insists I perform my responsibilities as ruler, but the only thing I ever wish to do is be in your arms and in your bed.”

“Then leave these filthy peasants, love,” he took the hand on his chin and held it gently, “And let me admire my queen as a loyal subject should.”

“Hongjoongie…” she breathed,

“Please, Mistress,” he put a yearning into his seductive tone, “It has been so long since you have visited my chambers. You’re always with the others and never with me,” he put a hand on her knee and knelt. You heard him whisper something obscene in her ear, which made her giggle. “…It grows harder in every thought. Do not leave me wanting, Mistress, please. It aches for you…”

This is what Sookmyung wanted: a concubine who professes nothing but undying desire for her. Sookmyung could never truly love anyone, regardless of what she said. Hongjoong knew this, and you admired his tact. It is better to make her believe he needed her than to show his true feelings. You wondered if he thought of the other woman when he said these words. You knew he'd never think of you. 

You saw them after a celebration for Sookmyung’s five-year-reign as queen. You finished helping her into bed and took the shortcut back to the servant’s quarters to rest your tired feet. Cutting through the concubine gardens, you’d heard hushed voices through a hedge. You thought nothing of it at the time, since you thought it must’ve been the wind or an animal nearby. Yet, you then heard the high voice of Kim Hongjoong, followed by another voice. A woman’s voice. Curiosity and shock got the better of you, and you peeked through the high hedge to see their figures in the shadows of the trees. You couldn’t tell what they’d done, since they hid themselves behind dense thickets of shrubbery, but it did not take much to wonder. You never saw the woman, so you guessed she’d gone over the garden wall, but you did see Hongjoong. It did not take a genius to figure out what he’d done. You swore yourself to secrecy; you told yourself that revealing this secret of his to anyone meant death.

“Alright,” she pouted, “I can never say no to this beautiful face of yours…”

“Or my tongue,” he added softly, putting his face inches from hers but never kissing. The veil acted as a barrier that drove her nuts. “Seonghwa will join us, if you wish. He enjoys you just as much as I do. Isn’t that so, Brother?”

“It is,” Seonghwa nodded, but did not approach her.

Your eyes met Hongjoong’s. You wished you could thank him. With Sookmyung occupied with him and his “brothers”, you could see your mother, whom you haven’t seen for two nights. You may even see Queen Jisoo, Sookmyung’s mother. 

“We’re done for today,” Sookmyung told Choi, who nodded stiffly. “Come, flowers.”

One by one they followed her down the steps, and you trailed behind them. Everyone bowed their heads as she walked by, but you couldn’t help seeing their glaring faces. They must’ve waited hours to see her, and she only listened to two or three people. She conquered every kingdom in the country, turning them into wards under her rule, and did nothing to help them. Like the men who trailed behind her, they are spoils of war. Sookmyung squandered their collective wealth, expecting her subjects to accept it without complaint. You wished you knew a way to help, but you’re as powerless as them. You watched Hongjoong climb into Sookmyung’s litter, the pair instantly turning to one another, and expected to walk alongside them.

“No, no, YN,” Sookmyung stopped you as you approached. “You’re dismissed for the day. Come to the garden around supper. If anyone comes calling for me, tell them I am indisposed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you bowed, standing aside as the footmen lifted up the five litters.

She turned away from you to kiss Hongjoong, who tilted his head to deepen it. Once more, you locked eyes with one another. You gave him an appreciative smile, which he replied with a blink. You waited until Sookmyung was far away before walking towards the opposite gate back to the residency area. Passing by Sookmyung’s personal apartments, you walked further down the hall to a set of double doors guarded by a leggy man in leather armor. 

“Good morning, Junhan,” you grinned at them, the older man grinning back. “Is Her Majesty accepting visitors?”

“She will if it’s you,” he replied, “How was the witch this morning?”

“Junhan,” you hissed, holding back your laugh and looking down the hall, “You know better.”

“Ah, as if anyone is going to hear me here,” he rolled his eyes. He slid open the door for you, and said, “She’ll be glad to see you. Your mother says Her Majesty has been anxious these past few days.”

“Then I should see her quickly,” you said, giving him a nod before walking into the main room. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you smiled as you entered a nearby sitting room. 

The Queen Mother Jisoo was once held in the admiration of everyone in the kingdom. She’d helped the kingdom in many ways during her reign alongside her husband: giving smaller villages access to clean water, funding orphanages and reconstructing damaged parts of the city. She helped pass laws that protected women in arranged marriages or dangerous situations, and gave protection to children. It was because of her that many people, especially the women and children, felt safe in the kingdom. But, when her daughter became queen, the Queen Mother stepped back and focused on her passions instead. However, age came for Jisoo, and her mobility became limited and her health declined slightly.

“Ah, YN, good morning,” Jisoo smiled. She sat in her wheeled chair today, a blanket over her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. “How is my daughter?”

“She is well. She is in the throne hall,” you fibbed. “She asked me to come check on you for her.”

“YN,” she smiled softly, shaking her head, “You’d lie to an old woman to spare her feelings. Please, come and sit. I’m sure Sookmyung did not make the morning easy for you. A servant told me she sent away her handmaidens this morning.”

“She did.” You took the seat across from her and prepared yourself a cup of tea. You offered to refill her cup, but she refused. “Your Majesty, you must eat,” you noticed the amount of food left over, “If you don’t, it will get cold.”

“I don’t have much of an appetite today,” she admitted. “But, I’m sure you’re famished, so please, eat.”

“She hardly had time to eat her breakfast this morning, Your Majesty.”

A woman in a gray and blue hanbok walked into the room, carrying a stack of folded sheets. Her hair tied up in a bun, she wore the blue and gray hanbok of Queen Jisoo’s maids. Like your red ribbon, she wore a white one. You grinned at the sight of your mother. She’d been Queen Jisoo’s handmaiden in her youth, being at her side for every event of her life. When you grew up, you became Sookmyung’s maid. Except, you’re certain your mother had a much better time serving Jisoo than you did Sookmyung.

“And why was that?” Jisoo asked curiously. “Breakfast is important, and you’re still a growing woman.”

“The queen needed me to assist her in her garden,” you admitted over a cup of tea before sipping. You saw the disapproval on your mother’s face, but it was Jisoo who spoke up.

“And what horrid thing did she make you witness?”

“Nothing. She’d sent the concubines away before I arrived.”

“Hmph, in my day, queens did not have ‘concubines’,” your mother huffed, shaking her head. “The physician tells me he brews her tansy tea to avoid scandalous mishaps, but that is not healthy for a young woman. She’ll do severe damage to her womb, and not be able to produce children at all at this rate.”

“Chaewon,” the queen shushed her sharply. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she apologized. She noticed you not eating, and spread a bit of honey on bread for you. You knew better than to refuse her, so you ate it in small bites.

“My Sookmyung has always had a certain fiery passion,” Jisoo said. “Her father was similar. It was why he had so many concubines. He had an appetite I could not handle on my own,” she giggled.

“But, Your Majesty, the things I’ve heard The Queen does are-”

“-I know they are,” she cut in. “My daughter is a young woman, a new monarch. I will not rob her of enjoying her youth before settling down and marrying someone.”

Did that enjoyment of youth involve locking people in dungeons to torment and torture for pleasure? Did it include kidnapping young men from their families and forcing them to fulfill her every whim? Jisoo might make excuses for Sookmyung, but you would not. You finished the bit of bread given to you, and took up a bowl of kimchi instead. Not fully tasting the vegetable side, you pitied the concubines. Only the gods know what act she is forcing Hongjoong and Seonghwa to perform for her. 

You wished you could help them. You wished you could help a lot of people.

***

A/N: I freaking love historical aus, don't you?? I know this probably isn't a 100% accurate, but I tried to get as close as possible while still mixing in a fictional realm. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter <3 feel free to like and reblog, it keeps posts alive!!

[luvyeni]

A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES; STRAY KIDS SERIES

7 High Courts; 8 Very Handsome High Fae Lords. 7 Stories filled with love, lust, heartbreak and of course... Magic and faires.

GENRE. Fantasy Au | fluff | angst | smut

AUTHORS NOTE. I decided this would be for my 400 followers special since i couldn't do my 100 followers. this loosely based on the book series 'a court of thorns and roses', these can be read as stand alones, although they will mention other members. don't worry the request are still coming two but I thought this would be cool to do.

TAGLIST. comment if you want to be added !

DISCLAIMER! THIS IS NOT AFFILIATED WITH THE BOOK SERIES BUT IT WILL HAVE REFERENCES TO THE BOOK.

PAIRINGS. highfae!minchan x peasant!reader

SYNOPSIS. After killing a close friend of theirs, chan of spring court invites you to stay in the castle to avoid being killed by the other faeries of spring court. Here you meet his brother lee know of spring court, and as much as he wants to hate you, he is drawn to you... too bad chan is too.

♡... READ HERE !

PAIRINGS. highfae!changbin x Springcourt!reader

SYNOPSIS. When you run away from spring court and cross the lines into night court, changbin immediately recognizes you as his enimies little sister. He lets you stay, saying it's just to make him mad, but in reality it's because his mating bond activated

♡... READ HERE !

PAIRINGS. highfae!hyunjin x maid!reader

SYNOPSIS. Hyunjin of summer court hardly paid attention to his staff, spending most of his time with different hook ups or spending most of his time in his paint room, but when you clumsily spill his tea on his suit, he suddenly wants to be around, watching you work.

♡... READ HERE !

PAIRINGS. highfae!jisung x faerie!reader

SYNOPSIS. You and jisung of dawn Court used to be friends, before he became high fae and you slowly drifted apart because of his duties to dawn court. One day you guys rekindle your old friendship. where you always this pretty?

♡... READ HERE !

PAIRINGS. highfae!felix x human!reader

SYNOPSIS. When you accidentally cross the line between the human realm and the faerie realm, you are attacked by a scary creature, but you are saved and nursed back to health by felix of day court. When it's time for you to leave, he can't help the pain in his heart.

♡... READ HERE !

PAIRINGS. highfae!seungmin x futureladyofautumcourt!reader

SYNOPSIS. You and seungmin of autumn have hated each other ever since you were little kids, you two are now adults and seungmin has to find a wife to help continue on his bloodline, and guess who it is?

♡... READ HERE !

PAIRINGS. highfae!jeongin x humanprincess!reader

SYNOPSIS. After running away from your forced wedding, you cross the lines into winter court, where you meet jeongin of winter court, the young high fae who's also running away from his bride to be, he let's you hide in his castle... in exchange, you have to be his fake fiance.

♡... READ HERE !

©️LUVYENI

[straykidshoe-deactivated2023101]

Sit...Stay

pairing ♡ : Kim Seungmin x fem reader

genre ⚝ :Fluff, Smut, tiny sprinkle of humour – MDNI

synopsis ✧ : You managed to figure out Seungmins secret kink by your next level sleuthing skills. What you decided to do with that information is more interesting..

warnings ⚠ : established relationship smut, boyfriend Seungmin, Everything is consensual, Pet names (pup, baby, puppy etc.), Oral, anal (butt plug), kinda pet play (?), face sitting, slight nipple play, let me know if I missed any.

Song ♫ : Bloodstream by Transviolet

A/N ☾ : Woo- this is a long one. And it took me wayy to long to write it-hopefully you all liked the requests I answered in the mean time and it was worth the wait ;)

words: 2.7k (2773 words)

The sounds of you ripping open the delivery box echoed around you within the safe confines of your bedroom. Finally, the package had arrived. You had ordered this item a few days ago when you had just discovered a secret kink that your boyfriend kept under tight wraps. Until now.

Around 3 days earlier 

You had been taking care of your neighbour's child, Geummi; It was rounding on the last half hour of her stay and since she had managed to exhaust all activities in record time, the last resort was the age-old game of dress up. So, as Geummi dashed around in your closet for the most sparkly thing you owned, you settled on the old pair of fluffy dog ears that came with your Halloween costume. 

As you waited for Geummi to emerge from her battle with your many clothes, you analysed the old prop in your hand, two ears that folded over at the tips were on opposite sides of the plastic hairband- on the upper side of each, was a soft grey felt and on the inside was fluffy but stringy white cotton, that was dyed a light brown in the middle, like a teardrop. 

You aimlessly dug your finger further into the soft fur to find a hardened area, almost matted with a liquid.. Strange. 

You didn’t have much time to investigate further since you were distracted with Geummi who had finally emerged from your room, adorned in a sparkly dress of yours that was meant to be mini on you, but was reaching the floor on her. 

You laughed at her whilst you led her back into your room, the set of ears placed on your head, to go and find her the perfect outfit. 

Soon enough, Geummi’s mother had come to pick her up and was equally amused when you answered the door, with her young daughter in hand who was currently wearing another one of your dresses and a few dozen pieces of jewellery that you decided to adorn her with. 

Once you had cleaned up the mess within your closet and living room, you collapsed onto your couch as you flicked on a new K-Drama that you had been meaning to catch up on. 

A good few episodes in you heard the tell-tale clicking of the main lock opening and the door unlatching.

‘Minnie!’ You skipped up to the male and wrapped your arms around his torso, nuzzling into his expansive chest and inhaling his minty fresh scent. You felt his deep baritone laugh encompass you as his arms came to rest around your waist,

‘Hey! Was the neighbour's kid over today as well?’

‘Yeah, we made you cookies..’ You brought your face out from his crisp button down to look at him, he brought one hand up and fiddled with your ears. Damn, you forgot about those. You reached up to take them off but your hand stopped mid-air when you noticed something.

Why was he looking at them like that? Were his ears turning pink? Oh wait, his whole face is turning red. Holy shit, were his eyes turning darker? You gulped, when you felt his erection press into your thigh.

‘Seungmin?’ You reached up to feel his forehead that had became significantly more shiny since he had walked in,

‘Where did you find these?’ He plucked them off your head, gripping them in his fist,

‘I don’t know..’ You started to walk away, looking for the cookies that you had previously mentioned, hoping it might lighten up the mood, ‘Why? Are they important?’ 

You heard him clear his throat behind you, ‘No..No they’re not important.’ You turned around briefly to watch him run one of his hands through his hair, ‘Just forgot we still had them,’ Seungmin then brought his gaze to you as he gave you a crooked smile, you smiled back as you turned around again- using a spatula to gently take the desserts off the baking tray. 

But as you were prying off the cookies, you couldn’t help but wonder. 

Why was he acting so.. Weird?

The next day (2 days ago)

You managed to find out the reason he was acting so weird. Albeit with some.. Unorthodox methods.

Now, before anybody judges, it was the bottom of the barrel technique that you had to employ.  And since Seungmin wasn’t very willing to give up the information, his naturally reserved nature ended up solidifying even further when you questioned him about his reaction. You were forced to resort to sleuthing through his browser history to extract the required information. 

And boy did you hit the motherload. All you had to do was input the porn site’s name into the search bar and before you was an explosion of material, sure that was the normal stuff like some girl on girl action. But then you noticed the sudden change in details, from vanilla porn, you saw the pattern shift into something more…Wild.

As you clicked on an especially interesting link, you were directed to a video involving a wide-eyed womandressed in a short, skimpy maid’s outfit. And poking out from underneath the frilly skirt was a long fluffy tail, one that was identical to the dogs that you saw at the park you and Seungmin visited a few months ago. Your vision zeroed into the clip on ears that the woman wore and the  large bell was attached around her neck, every time the man in the video would roughly tug on her hair, the soft tinkling of the golden ornament mingled in the air with her helpless whines.

Well hot damn. 

That same night you had done some quick searches on your own laptop, and a few hours later and credit card almost weeping in sorrow, you had purchased the perfect equipment for your planned attack.

Present day

And that's how you found yourself in this position, awkwardly on all fours- mirror propped up in your headboard behind you and in front of you was a half empty bottle of lube along with a dog tail, that on the end, had a long butt plug attached which was “ribbed for your pleasure” what the amazon seller conveniently forgot to include, was the sheer amount of effort it would take to get to the “pleasure” part of the evening.

Luckily, after using up another few pumps of lube and ending up with your legs spread almost 90 degrees on your soaked comforter, the lengthy plug was situated comfortably within your ass- which was currently pulsating deliciously causing more of your arousal to spread along your folds. 

Well this could only go well. 

Soon after sitting up and experimentally applying more force onto the fluffy tail you had also wrapped the strip of silk around your neck, on which a large, golden bell was attached along with the large clip on ears which were made of the same stringy cotton but were differently coloured, this time the ornaments were black and white pointed upwards- putting the pink droplet shape on display. 

By the time you had added the “top” and puffed out skirt, you looked straight out of one of the horny anime’s that you watch at 3am. The so-called top was a flimsy silk that hovered over your breasts due to the fact that the tight elastic bands sewed into the top and bottom had applied so much pressure that the material was forced up over your tits. And was probably cutting off your circulation. 

The things you do for love.

Along with the sexy straight jacket that you ordered there was also the puffy skirt- one that put prima ballerina’s tut’s to shame. Layers and layers of tulle had mounted up to produce this cupcake looking thing that you had adorned yourself with. You whined helplessly at your appearance, trying not to shrivel up in embarrassment, the overpowering humiliation was almost enough that you had forgotten about the anal plug (that was “ribbed for your pleasure”) situated comfortably inside of you; just as you were about to give into the temptation to curl into yourself and turn into dust, the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend’s dress shoes were approaching the bedroom door, along with his voice bouncing off of the walls in the corridor. 

‘Honey~ I got you your favourite food.’ 

You tried to find something to cover yourself as you ran sporadically around your room, but just as you were about to squeeze yourself into your closet, Seungmin was standing in front of you, jaw dropped and face slowly turning red in mortification. 

Sighing, you dropped the flimsy blanket that you had to shield yourself - waiting with baited breath for his reaction to your outfit. Seungmin stood there for a few minutes, silent, the only sound in the room being the muffled tapping of your foot against the floor and his deep breaths.

‘What…’ He moved to sit on the long ottoman at the end of the bed, ‘What the fuck..’ Seungmin bent his head down, cradling it in his hands like it weighed as much as the world.

You walked towards him, shuddering slightly at the friction the plug produced due to your movements, ‘Is it bad? I could try something else..’ in response you got an elongated groan as his hands violently shook his hair. Nervously, you brought your hand to rest on his shoulder, ‘Do I need to do anything specific? Like barking? Is there something you're particularly into..’ you trailed off, voice sounding thicker than it had initially as the panic set deep inside your bones. 

Does he really not like it? 

You cursed yourself internally, perhaps you should have read that one article about the details of this kinda stuff..

‘No- No Y/N that isn’t it…’ He brought his head back up, biting his lip hard. You slid down onto the floor, putting both hands on his thighs you leaned forward nudging your nose with his. 

‘Then what Seungmin? What’s wrong?’ You moved your head back slightly when you felt his chest expand,

‘I just-’ He looked away, blushing furiously, ‘I never wanted you to know about this whole thing..’ 

‘But why? I like trying new things with you,’ You smiled softly, caressing his cheek with your palm

‘Don’t you think it’s weird?’ He opened his eyes, locking his slow darkening gaze with yours,

Leaning further forward, so that your lips ghost over his, you bury both hands in his hair, ‘Not at all, in fact I think it’s kinda hot..’ 

He smirks softly, huffing out a laugh against your lips before he also cradles your head in his hands. Bringing you somehow closer towards him, you both connect your lips in a languid kiss- searing passion flows throughout the both of you with each stroke of your tongues. 

You both let out simultaneous breaths through your nose, not wanting to detach from one another. Your next flow of oxygen is laced with his scent, like warm caramel and chocolate his kiss was was sultry as one of his hands gripped at the strands on your scalp whilst the other travelled down to the nape of your neck- you whimpered into his mouth as your felt him slip his fingers underneath the silk collar, causing the large bell the jingle obnoxiously. 

‘Stand up baby, wanna see how pretty my puppy is...’ he muttered against your deep inhales of breath- he rested his forehead against yours momentarily, letting you feel the flutter of his eyelashes against your skin.

The air around the both of you was heavy and humid, yet somehow calmly silent except for the rustling of you standing up in front of him, you moved further away from him so that he could easily admire your costume.

He hummed in appreciation, gently taking your hand and moving it to the left, guiding you to spin, ‘Cute tail pup,’ you kept your back turned to him as he tugged on the fluffy article, moaning as he wrapped it around his fist, ‘Ah~ it's a pretty little plug isn’t it?’ 

‘Yes,’ You gasped when he swiftly turned you back around and ushered you into his lap, reaching forward he brushed some of our stray hair away from your eyes as he leaned forward to kiss your nose,

‘You’re such a good girl for me, pretty, did it hurt putting it in?’ he pouted at you as he nibbled at your collar bone,

‘Kind of- but I used alot of lube,’ you tongued the inside of your cheek, playfully raising your eyebrow at him- gently flicking your bell.

Seungmin laughed against your neck, biting and sucking a hickey onto the sensitive flesh as punishment, ‘Awwh poor angel, don’t worry I’ll make it worth it.’

He grabbed your ass as he lifted you up before letting you fall onto bed- he began to unbutton his shirt until you placed a soft hand against his, silently asking permission. Seungmin smiled down at you before dropping both hands to his sides. You started to slip the opaque buttons through the holes, the feeling of victory fueling your movements- as you continued to undress him, Seungmin started to fiddle with your ears, combing through the stringy material until you had finally finished and had sat up on your knees to push the cotton shirt off his large shoulders. 

You sat back down, folding your legs to the side, giving Seungmin the perfect opportunity to bend forward on his hands on leave a peck on your lips before moving away slightly,

‘Sit on my face.’ He asked- No. Told you. 

‘W-what?’ Your eyes widened in surprise at his blunt statement.

‘Sit’ kiss ‘On’ kiss ‘My’ kiss ‘Face’

He continued to plant kisses all over your face that was scrunched up with delight,

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you..’ 

kiss

‘I don’t care’ He moved behind you to lay down,  facing upwards on the pillow, ‘Sit on me, come on puppy, you know you want to’ He smirks at you as he outstretches his hand for you to use as leverage.

‘Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ You accept his help and crawl over to him, you grip his hand as you swing one thigh over his face- situating your bare cunt to his lethal gaze. You intertwine both hands with his, leaning your full force onto them, so that you could hover over his face- not willing to fully smother him. 

You stay in this position until he harshly bites the inner part of your thigh, ‘I said sit, not hover pup- don’t make me have to force you,’ you could see him arch his eyebrow up at you.

Huffing in annoyance you let yourself fully drop on his open mouth, choking on a breath as his tongue plunges into your dripping heat- you untwine both of your hands so that one of yours could grip the headboard whilst the other once again buries itself into your hair, clutching the soft strands. 

Seungmin hums against your core as the room is filled with your breathy moans and the wet noises of him licking and sucking at you like a starved man,

‘Jesus I forgot how good you taste baby,’ he groaned out his words before delving back in, dragging his teeth against your clit and using the tip of his tongue to poke at your clenching hole. 

Soon enough your moans turned into high pitched whines and the rhythm you were grinding your hips with had turned sporadic and messy- you kicked your head back, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. 

Seungmin could tell you were approaching your high and brought one hand up to tug at your plug whilst his other hand reached up to pinch and flick at your perky nipples.

His ministrations were enough for you to convulse and writhe against his wandering hands whilst your thighs began to clench around his head almost painfully,

‘That’s it..’ Seungmin murmured as the pad of his thumb circled your clit, ‘Come on, cum for me my pretty puppy.’ His words were the final straw, and like a rubber band pulled taut- you snapped. Your moans morphed into deep, gasping breaths as your vision turned white and your body went limp as you slumped against the headboard. When you went to get up from Seungmin’s face, you felt one of his hands grip your thigh in a bruising hold whilst the other tugged harshly at your tail, causing a series of helpless whimpers to tumble out of your mouth. ‘Be a good pup for me, sit’ He kissed your puffy clit, ‘And stay'

Taglist :

@unh0ly-dr3am3r 💭

@whyyougottadothatbro  💐

@kflixnet

@junebug032

[sevngmin148]

good lord. adding pet play to unexpected kinks reading fics has given me ig

[caseiloveu-deactivated20240712]

soulmates (theoretically) - ceo!scientist!lee know x reader

˗ˏˋ pairing: ceo!scientist!lee know x gn!reader

˗ˏˋ description: y/n goes to work, goes to lunch, and goes home. there is not a lot of time in their life to date, at least that is what they keep telling themselves. when the company they work for lay off people, y/n actually makes it their goal to get to know new people and possible roommate to save up money on rent. eventually, y/n tries out the newest dating app on the market to find a person they would get along with, a genetics based match programm provided by STAYwm. y/n gets a match and it is better than everything they were hoping for. unfortunately, it's the last person they thought they would ever get along with.

or: fake-dating your imaginary nemesis for money to avoid moving back home. no strings attached.

inspired by: the soulmate equation by christina lauren (which, funnily enough, i never finished reading)

˗ˏˋword count: 28,7k (crossposting on ao3 here)

˗ˏˋtags: pov switches (but only like three paragraphs from minho's pov, it will make sense i promise) ceo!minho, kinda soulmate!au, fake dating, slow burn, one-sided enemies to lovers, mutual pining, misunderstanding, "love triangle with jeongin" (but he won't be sad about it, i promise), only one bed, swearing, angst, trust issues from previous relationship(s), implied cheating mention, fluff, kissing !!, happy ending, changlix in the epilogue, minho is perceived as a grump but he's just shy and has a resting bitch face, i promise it's not bad, he is NOT a meanie, they're just stupid, bff!chan, bff!changbin, loveinterest!jeongin, minsung are platonic soulmates in every universe, even txt gets a cameo, some xh members get a cameo, everyone gets a cameo, the characters in this fic are smarter than me, i'm a humanities major please don't believe anything science-y i say, also when i talk about the lunch breaks i mean "lunch" very losely, you're obviously eating way more than what i'm describing, it's just for plot purposes

a/n: it's finally done. the biggest of thank-you's to tangy for brainstorming some parts of the fic with me and as usual, to astro and my other bestie for beta-reading and helping me translate the stupidest of words. i hope everyone who reads this enjoys this fic of mine. and if you actually read all of this: mwah <3

DON'T REPOST. DON'T TRANSLATE. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!

act zero: participants.

It was quiet when you arrived at the cafe. All you heard was the coffee maker quietly brewing in the back and the slight chatter of the workers behind the counter. Chan and Changbin, your coworkers and the friends you usually had lunch with, did not come in with you today. They had not answered any of your messages either. Most likely, they were still stuck at the office for another few minutes until they were able to take their lunch break and join you. It was not unusual, so you would just sit down and wait for them to arrive.

It had been on you, anyway. It was a nice day out, so you had decided to take your own lunch break a few minutes early to enjoy the sun outside just for a little while. While waiting for them, you decided to sit down at your usual table, so they would not have any trouble finding you when they came. When you put your belongings down on the table close to the entrance, you were greeted with Yeonjun’s warm smile. “The usual?” He asked and you nodded. “Yes, thank you. Nothing for Chris and Bin yet, I got here early today.”

Yeonjun hummed, “I noticed. I’ll ask Kai how long it’s gonna be until the fresh batch is ready.”

You laughed, “Thank you, I’ve been craving this stuff all morning.”

“Though day at work?” Yeonjun asked. Nodding, you agreed,“You could say that, yeah.”

Yeonjun wrote down your order and hummed. “Well, I’ll make sure to use some extra love to make your drink today.”

He winked at you before turning around to join Beomgyu behind the counter to prepare your drink and get your lunch. It was nice to be known by the staff and be able to talk to them so freely, you thought. Especially since the group of guys who worked at the cafe were so warm and welcoming. You knew Yeonjun by association, since he was one of Changbin’s old college friends. They had known each other for years now and when you started befriending Changbin just a mere two years ago, the first thing he did was introduce you to his friend’s cafe. Soon enough, it turned into your new faux lunch spot, even though you only ever ate the pastries Kai made. You would have your real lunch at work later on and sometimes even bring it with you when time would not allow it. What made the cafe so special, however, was the fact that Yeonjun was one of the owner’s of the cafe, along with his friend Beomgyu, who was standing behind the counter beside him. The latter smiled at you when he noticed your eyes on him and you smiled back. Like Yeonjun, Beomgyu and the three other guys who worked there with them, knew you and your friends by name and your orders by heart.

Deep in thought, you turned back around to gaze outside the window. Yeonjun was right, it had been a hectic day at the office. Usually, this would not really bother you, because you were more than used to running around for your boss, just doing whatever he asked you to. It was kind of a given, considering that you currently worked as his secretary and personal assistant. Yet, the reason for your distress today was different. Your coworkers had been talking about a possible layoff all day and had already been discussing who might have to leave. Allegedly, the company you worked for was not as well off as they presented themselves to be to their workers and the general public.

This is why they were currently looking into their stats to check who was doing a good job and who was lacking. They would let these people go and instead, either hire someone new or divide their work and give it to the remaining staff. Partly to cut budgets, and partly to optimise the general workflow. It would help them a great deal, Barbara had explained, all while eyeing you from the corner of her eyes. Even though she was nothing but a bootlicker who, admittedly, did not do a good job, like Changbin said, her words got to you. 

You only joined the company about a year ago. Besides, despite knowing that your work was valued by your boss, you still feared that your job would be on the line, too. Especially since Barbara kept hinting at it whenever you were around. When you told Chan and Changbin about her, however, they just called her a bitch. Whether it was out of personal resentment or loyalty towards you, you appreciated it nonetheless.

“She’s just insecure,” Changbin had argued, “She knows that you’re doing a better job than her and all of her stupid friends combined.”

You had pouted, “You don’t even know her.” “I do. Do you remember our office party from like six months ago? She was all over me and tried to get into my pants.”

Chan had grimaced, “The annoying blonde one?”

“That’s the one,” Changbin had confirmed, “And when I rejected her, she told me that I’m too short for her.”

You had only snickered in response, “She’s a bitch, definitely.”

And that was it. You knew that they wanted to cheer you up, and it had worked for the time being. Yet, when you thought about the layoff, you never considered that Chan or Changbin would be in danger of being affected. Their jobs were safe as far as you knew, since their jobs were high ranking and important to keep the company running. They were both heads of their respective sections and rather close with your boss. Even though you were frequently talking to the CEO too due to the nature of your job, you knew from a personal standpoint that he valued Chan and Changbin greatly. The only reason he kept talking to you was because he needed you to run errands for him; and because your office was right in front of his own. You did not belong to any specific section, you were kind of just there. Most of the time, you would only take his calls, plan his meetings, and buy him coffee. And usually, your boss gave you a little extra money to spend so you could get yourself a little beverage as well. It was not a bad job per se, but still enough to feel the pressure behind the layoffs. And it scared you.

“What are you thinking about?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You jerked slightly and blinked. “Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?” Changbin asked and waved his hand in front of your face. “You okay? You kinda spaced out.”

He and Chan were already standing in front of your table. They had just arrived apparently and took their jackets off to sit down in the seats in front of you. During, Chan greeted Yeonjun, who already started preparing their usual orders alongside yours.

“Mhm,” you answered and nodded. Changbin snorted, “Sure you are. What’s up?”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands, “I think I’m gonna be jobless in like, a month tops.”

Chan chuckled, “I don’t think anything’s gonna happen to any of us.”

“Of course you’re saying that, that man adores you,” you sighed. Changbin clicked his tongue. “They’re all overreacting, especially that Barbara girl. That’s what I’ve been telling you. I’m pretty sure it’s just a rumour. Remember when they all thought the company would close down because everyone was so secretive and weird and it was just because they decided to film part of a documentary?”

Chan winced, “Don’t remind me. I still feel lied to when I rewatch The Office.”

“And even if they decide to lay us off,” Changbin added, ignoring Chan’s comment, “it’s not that much of a loss, anyway.” With this, he ended the conversation and got up to get your drinks and freshly baked cookies from Yeonjun behind the counter. The two guys started talking to each other, while Chan looked over at you.

“We’re gonna be fine. You know that, right?” he whispered and you pressed your lips together.

“I won’t be able to keep my apartment anymore if I lose my job.” Chan looked at you, shock written all over his face, “You could always move in with us. You know we wouldn’t mind.”

“But I would.” - “Y/N…” Chan sighed, already knowing what you were going to say.

“Your apartment is already small as it is,” you interrupted him, “and neither of you can afford to move into a bigger one, even if we split the rent. Thank you for offering, but it’s fine the way it is for now.”

Chan looked at you worriedly, “We’ll figure something out, okay?”

You nodded and took your drink out of Changbin’s hands.

“Yeonjun said Kai made a fresh batch for us,” Changbin said happily and put the baked goods on the table. Chan got one right away and groaned, “This stuff is so good.”

You were about to grab your own, when the sound of the entrance opening made you look up. You saw another regular walking in, someone who usually arrived at the same time as you. It was the guy who was always frowning whenever he came in. He had never once smiled when he came in here, you noted. He was about the same height as Chan and wearing a tight black suit. He looked almost bored to be here. He did not even bother to properly look at your table and just went straight to the counter to ask for his order. You looked at him while taking a bite out of your cookie.

“Six coffees and one piece of chocolate cake, please,” The guy said and Changbin beside you snorted. His eyes had followed your lingering gaze.

“Do you think he has some kind of addiction?” He whispered, “He’s been getting six coffees a day for what? A year now? 

You rolled your eyes, “Maybe he’s nice and gets some coffee for his coworkers?”

Changbin shook his head, “No way this guy’s nice. Did you see the way he just glared at Gyu?”

“To be fair, Gyu can be a little bit much sometimes,” Chan interjected, “One time I came in by myself and he started clapping hysterically and congratulated me for existing outside of our lunch hours.”

Changbin and you laughed, “Maybe that guy’s just insane.”

“Beomgyu or the six-coffees-guy?” - “Both,” you said and looked back up, “But I don’t think that Guy said anything to him. He only really talks to us that way, doesn’t he?” 

The regular was walking past you now, his entire order in both of his hands, and glared at your table from the corner of his eyes, as if he had heard what you just said about him. He raised his eyebrow the second he noticed your eyes on him and you blushed slightly. You did not look after him when he left, but his eyes had burned themselves into your mind, leaving you completely breathless. They were a dark brown, almost back. He was gorgeous, you thought, and insanely handsome. What a shame that his attitude did not match.

“You’re so flustered,” Changbin teased and Chan grinned at you. “Do you like Mr. Grumpypants over here?”

You huffed, heating up even more, “Absolutely not. Now shut up.”

Both guys looked at each other and laughed, before resuming your conversation. Naturally, they kept teasing you for the rest of the lunch break, all because the grumpy regular had left you so flustered from just one look.

act one: introducing.

It had been a week since that lunch break and so far, nothing had changed at your job. The only thing that stayed were the whispers about possible layoffs, which became more frequent as time went on. It made you more nervous than it did before, even though you tried to keep your thoughts locked up as best as you could. The only thing you were looking forward to now was your lunch break, hoping that it would give you some peace and quiet in between the chaos.

When you went back to the cafe with Changbin and Chan the week after, just like you did every day, everything was just like it was before. You walked to the cafe together, sat down at your usual table, and Soobin already got your lunch ready for you. The only difference was that it got harder to ignore the elephant in the room. Not even Chan could argue against the layoff rumours anymore, especially since the vibe at the company turned so tense all of sudden. Everyone was more than aware that not so secret meetings with individual employees were taking place already and no one knew what they were about yet.

Sitting down, you had a perfect view at the entrance. This was why you saw the handsome regular coming back in with someone else this time around. The second guy was chatting along happily, all while the one with the frown on his face just listened. Not even a guy as excited as him could light up his sour mood.

“This place is so cool,” you overheard the second guy say and looked into their direction. The regular was wearing his usual tight suit. It fit his body well, you noted again, and he looked gorgeous, just like he always did; if it were not for the frown on his angelic face. The guy beside him was wearing regular jeans and a shirt with some sort of logo on it. It was simple and yet, he still looked almost as handsome as the guy in the suit. You tried to catch a glimpse at the writing on his chest, but he turned back around just when you were about to.

“You’re staring again,” Changbin teased and you groaned. “Am not.”

“Definitely are,” Chan chirped in. 

Your lips fell ajar in defence, “I just wanted to see what the other guy’s wearing. He’s pretty cute.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, “Of course that’s the one you were ogling.”

“I wasn’t ogling anyone!” you argued back and snatched Changbin’s snack right out of his hand, “If anything, I only have eyes for you?”

Chan made a gagging sound, “How’s that any better?.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk about your boyfriend’s boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” you interrupted them again, “I just can’t believe that he has friends with that attitude.”

“Well, you’re you and we’re still sitting here,” Chan said. You turned into his direction to glare at him, while he put his hands up in the air in defence. Changbin laughed and gave him a high five. 

“It wasn’t even that funny,” you grimaced. Chan chuckled, “We’re just teasing, you know that.”

“Whatever,” you said, feeling at ease at his words now, even though you knew that they both were still completely convinced that you were fancying the grumpy regular,, “I just want to know what their deal is.”

“Maybe he pays him to spend time with him,” Changbin joined your tattling again.

“Like a sugar daddy?” You asked and Changbin grinned. “Yeah, you should try the same.”

You hit Changbin’s shoulder and he feigned being hurt. Yet, you allowed yourself to entertain his idea a little. Your eyes wandered back to the two guys standing in front of the counter, now placing their order. The younger guy was still laughing, seemingly telling a joke based on his own reaction. And then, you saw it. The guy in the suit was smiling slightly. Utterly mesmerised, you stared at him. The smile suited him, you thought, watching his eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Anyway, you mentioned that the big boss wanted to talk to you?” Chan ripped you out of your daydreaming.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered and blinked a few times. Changbin grinned at you maliciously, “I know that we’re all talking about a layoff but I’m hoping for a little promotion, actually. At least a raise; Like I said, if I don’t make more money soon I might have to move back home. Just my luck, they raised my rent again.” The guys looked at you pitifully. 

“You know that you can always move in with us, right?” Changbin started again, but you shook your head.

“Chan told me the same the other day. I just don’t think that it would be a good idea.”

Flashbacks of their apartment filled your brain. Their entire apartment looked like a man cave and even smelled like one; you still saw Changbin’s dirty underwear when you closed your eyes. All they had in their fridge was chicken breast and, even though you had made a joke about their addiction to the latter and their protein shakes before, there was truly nothing else at their apartment sometimes. Despite their gentle nature as people, their apartment still haunted your nightmares.

“I mean, you could always try to find someone to date? A partner to move in with?” He suggested and wiggled his eyebrows, “You would save money and loosen up a little. Maybe you can ask the grumpy guy you’re so obsessed with? Pretty sure only rich people wear a suit to work every day.”

Just when you were about to tell him to shut up, someone else joined your conversation.

“You guys are looking for possible partners? Then I have what you’re looking for.”

The three of you stared at the owner of the voice. It was the second guy from earlier; the one who had come in with the regular you had just been talking about, as you usually did. The latter was standing a few feet away from your table with six coffee cups and two pieces of chocolate cake in his hands; his face not showing a single emotion whatsoever. The younger guy, not impressed at all by your stares, continued.

“We’re currently developing an app to determine a genetic soulmate. If you’re tired of Tinder, Bumble, and every other dating app out there, and want to find someone based on scientific facts, we’re your guys. My name’s Jisung and here’s our info.”

He took a few cards out of his pocket and put them on the table. Chan picked one up and looked at the name. Your eyes were still on the guy who had just spoken and now that he was standing in front of you, you noticed the shirt he was wearing. It was completely black and had the words STAYʷᵐ  written across his chest in a basic white font. 

The guy was smiling widely when he noticed Chan’s interest. “We’re still pretty new and not officially out on the market yet. We’re still looking to expand our sample size to give more than a hundred people an accurate match and hopefully soon enough, more than a million. The bigger the sample size the better.”

“That sounds interesting,” Chan told him and Jisung’s face lit up again. The guy in the suit stepped right behind them. He looked at all of you and sighed. “If you’re interested, just give me a call and we can discuss it in more detail. But for now, we really need to leave. It was… nice meeting you.”

He hit Jisung with his elbow, who turned around with a pout on his face. The guy in the suit looked at all of you again, his eyes lingering on you. You felt yourself grow a little warm and avoided his gaze, until he and Jisung eventually left the cafe again. 

Changbin whistled, “Honestly, I thought he wanted to invite us into a cult or something sexual, but this actually sounds like fun if it’s real. I need to look it up online later.”

“You want to give someone who approached you in public your DNA for free?” You asked and shook your head, “That sounds like a bad idea.”

“It’s only a bad idea if you’re boring,” Changbin replied and you rolled your eyes, “Plus, it could be the solution to your problem if it’s real.”

The both of you kept nagging each other on your way back to work, all to the suffering of Chan, who was just begging for some peace and quiet before his lunch break was over. Changbin absolutely loved the idea of finding a genetic soulmate, and even if it only meant finding someone to hook up with. Chan was very indifferent to the idea, but claimed that he would join Changbin if he went to the company, not wanting to leave him all alone in case he would get murdered, even though the internet had suggested that the project actually existed. You on the other hand did not quietly believe in it and were still worrying way too much about the possible danger this entire situation could hold. 

Back in your office, you looked at the card in your hand. Lee Minho, it said on the front. He was the CEO of the company and probably the grumpy guy in the suit. Why he had been so against the idea of his coworker approaching you when he was the one who owned the company was a mystery to you. You sighed and put the card deep inside your work bag, pretending today did not happen. Then, you turned your computer back on to check your E-Mails. There were still things you had to get done until you were able to call it a day, and you were hoping to finish everything up soon.

That was, until you saw an email your boss had sent you while you were on your lunch break. He had requested for you to set up a meeting between the both of you in a few days, not disclosing the topic. You sighed and stared at your computer, your thoughts running wild. The possibility that this was about a layoff was high, considering that you were not the only one your boss wanted to talk to. He had set up some of his own meetings this time without telling you what they are about. If this meeting was layoff related, you would lose your job, your only income, and your apartment. Just to move back home, if you were not able to find a new job anytime soon. 

Sighing again, you leaned back in your chair and closed your eyes. Maybe Changbin was right for now, you thought, maybe it would be a good idea to meet someone. Especially since the universe had presented you with the possibility on a silver platter. A legit one, you hoped. It would be a good opportunity to split rent and maybe even to loosen up a little, in one way or another. And if not, you could still sue them for fraud and get money that way. You took your phone out of your pocket and opened your text message. 

“I hate to say it, but maybe Changbin is actually right,” you texted your friends in your shared group chat, “Maybe we should call these guys and make an appointment.” 

Changbin texted you back right away, “I told you so.”

He added a grinning emoji and you groaned and put your phone away. He would never let you live this down.

act two: touring.

It did not take long for Jisung to answer the call. Chan ended up being the one who called him, since both you and Changbin got cold feet the second you were actually putting your plan into action. However, Jisung was ecstatic to hear from you. He invited the three of you over to the company the following day, promising that everything was already ready to introduce you guys to the concept in more detail.

“No worries,” he had said, delighted that the three of you were interested in the first place, “Everything is already good to go. Jeongin will welcome you, give you a little tour of the company so you guys get a feeling for our work, and you can always decline if you’re still having doubts after that. No strings attached.”

More at ease, the three of you decided to drive up to the company together after work. It was quiet in the car on the way, since Changbin seemed to share your nerves at this point. He kept twiddling with his fingers, almost anxiously waiting for you to finally get there. On the contrary, Chan was humming along to the music while driving. He did not ask you why you decided to change your mind all of sudden, but he kept glancing back at you through the rearview mirror, almost as if he was waiting for you to either tell him what was wrong or to ask him to turn around and forget about it. But you did not plan to do either. You would do this for yourself, you had decided, and even if you ended up not finding your perfect match, you still went out of your comfort zone and tried something new. At any rate, Changbin would get to meet new people through this one way or another. So even if doing it for yourself would not suffice, you would do it for your friend. And that was enough for you, at least for now.

As promised, the three of you were greeted by who you assumed was Jeongin when you left the parking lot. He was standing in front of the entrance, his build was slightly taller than Chan’s and he was seemingly younger than both of your friends. He was wearing some comfortable clothes, similar to Jisung’s outfit. The same logo decorated his chest and he appeared to be whispering to himself excitedly. The smile on his face only grew when he noticed the three of you walking up to him.

“Hi, I’m Jeongin and your guide on this fine day,” he introduced himself, confirming your assumptions, “I’ll show you around and explain the entire process to you.”

He offered all of you a smile and a slight hand shake, before he opened the door and pointed towards the building as an invitation for you to go inside. Hesitantly, you followed Chan, who was still very calm about the situation. Jeongin walked past the desk at the entrance and picked up some flash cards.

“This is where you’ll usually find me,” he explained and offered each of you some of the candy he had stacked up on his desk, “I work as the receptionist, basically, but I also do the tours when everyone else is  too busy working on finding love.”

The three of you offered Jeongin a polite laugh. He smiled warmly in return.

“We were all very excited when Ji told us about your possible applications,” Jeongin started softly, “As you can imagine, not a lot of normal people join experiments like this.”

“Normal people?” Changbin asked and raised an eyebrow. Jeongin blushed lightly. “Oh, are you guys scientists too? I thought you were, you know.” He gestured between all four of you. Chan hit Changbin’s side with his elbow and he immediately groaned dramatically in return.

 “We’re not scientists. We were actually pretty surprised that we were asked to join. I read about it online and so far, most of the applicants have been from similar research fields?” You and Changbin both stared at Chan, who did more homework on this experiment than the both of you combined. 

Jeongin hummed in response. “Yes! We’re only slowly opening this to the general public, because the opinion on it is still a bit diverging, I’d say. Plus, the majority hasn’t heard of our app yet, because our marketing isn’t really the best yet.”

Bashfully, Jeongin ran his finger through his hair. You smiled. “Jisung did a great job. Is he not part of the marketing department?”

Jeongin laughed, “He is, but he’s usually too busy trying to keep the boss in line. I heard you guys already know Minho?”

You nodded, “He’s at the cafe we go to usually.”

“Oh, you’re Y/N, right?” Jeongin asked. Surprised, you nodded again. “And they’re Chan and Changbin,” you added.

Jeongin smiled with a knowing glint in his eyes, “Then I’m more than happy to welcome you today.”

Jeongin continued his tour through the main building. When you walked past the lab section where your DNA would be analysed, you saw two guys inside the room. 

They were standing in front of a screen with their backs towards the entrance. They were in a heated discussion about something shown on a screen, something you did not quite see, which is why Jeongin decided against talking to them. The guy standing on the left was taller than the other one beside him. He had a lean build, similar to Jeongin. His hair was long and black, and he was excitedly talking about different samples, while his hands highlighted every word that came out of his mouth. The guy on the right was smaller and had freckles all over his face. He was attentively listening to what his coworker said and laughed at some of his outbursts. His voice was deep, you noticed, deeper than what you would have assumed for a guy with his looks.

“These are Hyunjin and Felix,” Jeongin introduced them, before shushing you away from the door, “They’re currently discussing matches. Beside Minho, they’re the heads of the science department, basically. They’re the ones who give the final say on almost all matches we put out, especially the high percentage ones.”

This made you peak up. “High percentage matches?” Jeongin nodded excitedly.

“We have five different types,” he explained and showed you guys the way to the cafeteria, “I’ll explain it in a minute, but what about we take a break for now?”

After each of you got yourself a beverage, the four of you sat down and listened to Jeongin explain everything a bit more. He explained the general gist of what exactly happened at the lab and what you were to expect from the app. Then, he told you about the different types of matches one person could have.

“First of all, if you guys decide to join, we will ask you to spit into a tube to get your DNA. It’s all secured, we will keep everything in our system until you either find a match you feel works or want to delete your data. No strings attached and no, we won’t sell your data to anyone.”

Chan snorted, “Can you say that again? Someone didn’t believe us.”

You rolled your eyes, “Is it my fault that I value my privacy?”

“We value yours too!” Jeongin said smoothly and you groaned, “I hope so. This sounds super interesting.”

Jeongin nodded, “We won’t only work with your DNA, though, we’ll also ask you to fill out a form with all of your dating preferences to assure that the match will work out - scientifically and emotionally. You tell us what you look for in a partner, like their gender, their hobbies, whatever comes to mind. Then, the scientists, like Hyunjin and Felix, will do the rest to find the best match possible suited to your genes and your needs.”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but how do we know that the matches will work out? Or which ones to choose, given that we get more than one? I thought we would only get one match and that’s it.” Changbin interjected. Jeongin nodded appreciatively. 

“That’s a valid question,” he said, “We have five different types of matches, like I mentioned earlier. They all depend on how well you match, basically. The higher the percentage the more likely it is that the person we found might be the one for you. The first type of match is a base match. It includes matches from seven up to 24 percent. It basically means that the both of you will most likely feel attracted to each other, and the rest is up to you! From what I heard, these matches are usually used for, well.”

Jeongin took a sip from his cup and raised his eyebrows. Changbin licked his lips. “So we will all get at least base matches, right?”

Jeongin nodded, “Basically. That was one of the goals and so far, it’s working out for everyone. But it isn’t the only type of match we want to offer. The next one would be the silver match. It includes matches from 25 up to 49 percent. It is thought to be similar to the base match, but it is a slimmer dating pool and they will fit your criteria even more. The other three matches fit in the upper fifty percent category.”

Chan pressed his lips together, “So for the record: The higher the percentage the smaller is the dating pool?”

Jeongin nodded again, “Exactly.”

You exhaled loudly, “So this isn’t a soulmate type of thing but rather a glorified Tinder?”

“I mean, not really, but I guess so? Except that with our app, you know that you guys will be attracted to each other in the best case scenario. Plus, we offer somewhat of a better safety than other apps do.”

“So my chances of finding the one are…” - “They’re higher the more people join,” Jeongin chimed in and you sighed. “I don’t know how I feel about this yet.”

Jeongin smiled again, “You don’t need to. But we are working on finding good matches for all of you, like I said. Beside the   matches from the lower fifty percent, we also want to offer matches that are even better for you. Gold matches, for instance, are all about people whose match percentage is between 50 and 65 percent. Then, there’s the platinum match, for people who fit together from 66 up to 80 percent.”

Chan whistled, “That’s an insane number. Have you guys had matches like this already or is it all in theory, still?”

“We have had a decent amount of gold matches,” Jeongin admitted, “And only two platinum matches so far. Again, the lack of participants is not good for our data.”

“And everyone else?” You asked, more interested now. 

“That would be the titanium match,” Jeongin replied, “It’s the highest percentage we think we can reach, it’s from 80 percent upwards. So far, we haven’t had one of these matches yet, because the chances to find two people who suit each other that well is still slim in our dating pool, but again.”

Jeongin waved his flash cards in front of you, “If you sign up with us, you have a better chance at finding your titanium match eventually. It’s our final goal to offer everyone their titanium matches, given that we eventually have the data to reinforce it.” It was quiet for a moment, before you asked, “You’re really into all of this, aren’t you?”

“Gah,” Jeongin squealed and hid his face behind his flash cards. His ears and cheeks turned pink when he answered, “I think this app is a great thing, honestly. I’ve seen the guys work on it since we started, I mean. I’m only the receptionist, but I’ve been a personal friend of everyone involved for years now. They really love what they do and I mean, who doesn’t want to meet his soulmate?” Yeah, who doesn’t?

You leaned back after taking all of this information in, your mind feeling slightly overwhelmed from the possibility of this being something so much more than you anticipated.

“And the matches,” Changbin asked, “Can we choose which ones we see?”

“You can decide which ones you want to see on the app,” Jeongin explained again, “and swipe on the ones you agree with or want to get to know.”.

Chan shook his head, “This is all mad impressive, I can give you that.”

Jeongin beamed, “Thank you. If you’re interested in more of the DNA work, our CEO occasionally gives lectures at universities about everything involved. He has a few in the following weeks, I can give you a copy if you want.”

“Sorry, do you guys mind if I go to the bathroom real quick?” You interrupted him suddenly. The amount of information made you feel a bit lightheaded, truth to be told. The three guys looked at you while you got up.

“Do you know where it is?” Jeongin asked and attempted to stand up, too, “I can show you the way.”

You shook your head, “I saw it on the way in, I just need a minute.”

You felt Chan’s eyes on your frame and shook your head, letting him know that you were fine. He did not seem to accept your answer, given that you could still feel his eyes on you on your way out of the cafeteria. 

You walked past the labs again on your way to the bathroom, the same one Hyunjin and Felix were discussing something in. All while you were thinking about what Jeongin had explained about the different matches. It would be fun to find the one, you thought, but would it really be worth it if your time in this city was this limited? You would rather find a friend than a lover and maybe you would be lucky enough to find someone who shared that sentiment, too. Breaking someone’s heart was definitely not on your list.

When you walked by the lab this time, however, Minho had joined Hyunjin and Felix in their conversation, and you tried to ignore the relentless thumps against your chest when you spotted him. The regular you saw in his suit on a daily basis was now wearing a lab coat over his attire. On top of that, he wore glasses. They had a thin black frame and looked flattering on him. It made your heart beat a little faster inside your chest. He was so handsome, you caught yourself looking at his frame for a few more seconds than needed. It took your mind off of your racing thoughts about love, replacing them with new ones of admiration. New thoughts spread inside your head, thoughts about matching with him, the guy that always plagued your mind. The guy that always caught your attention at the cafe, despite his casual glares. Then, you heard one of the guys in the lab speak.

“Why did you invite them in if you didn’t even want their sample sizes?” The voice asked. It belonged to Felix. “I thought we wanted a bigger data pool?” Minho huffed. He sounded unhappy when he answered, “Jisung invited them in because we want a bigger sample size if we want to get the app out. I guess even participants who are below our average should have the chance at this now.”

Below average participants? You thought, taking a step back. Was he talking about you and your friends? Jeongin had mentioned that you were one of the first participants who were not part of the scientific field to join this experiment. Part of the reason was because they wanted to expand their service. His words did not make any sense. All they did was break your heart, little by little, and you were not sure why. Hastily, you found your way to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up, before you went back to the cafeteria where the guys were sitting. In the meantime, Felix scolded Minho back in the lab room.

“What do you mean, ‘participants below our average’? You sound like a jerk.” Minho groaned, “You know what I mean. I think it’s still too early to let people like them in. They’re not scientists and don’t know anything about what we’re doing. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t understand what we’re trying to do here, anyway.”

“That’s what Jeongin is for,” Hyunjin argued, setting his pen down, “I think you’re just too scared that your app will flop.”

“Flop?” Minho furrowed his eyebrows, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m spending too much time with Felix and should be on my break.”

You did not hear the follow up of their conversation. Instead, you joined your friends and Jeongin in the cafeteria again, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest with Minho’s words still clouding your mind. The guys were still talking about the app, more interested than they were before. Your own excitement for the possibility of finding your roommate or soulmate vanished now that you knew what Minho was really thinking of you. But it was not fair to Jeongin, you noted, who had been so sweet to all of you the entire time you were there. 

“There you are,” Jeongin lit up the second he saw you. You smiled at him bashfully, your sour mood still prominent on your face. Chan raised an eyebrow when he spotted you, but you ignored him for the time being. You sat back down and waited for Jeongin to speak up again.

“So, as I was saying,” he started right away, his attention now all on you, “You don’t need to give us your samples just yet. If you’re still worried or don't want to join us at all, that’s also completely fine with us. Just let my boss know that it wasn’t because of me.” You smiled weakly.

“I would be down to hand in my samples right now,” Changbin said and Chan nodded, “Me too. It sounds interesting, I’m up for it.”

They all looked at you now. 

“I think I want to wait a little longer before I decide, I’m sorry,” you said apologetically and Jeongin shook his head immediately. He touched your hand that was lying on the table and squeezed it. It sent a tingle down your spine.

“Hey, I meant it when I said that you don’t need to feel obligated to do anything. Just do whatever you feel comfortable with. I know that this can be a lot, don’t worry.”

You smiled at each other. Jeongin told Chan and Changbin to get back to one of the waiting rooms with him, so they could fill out the application and give them the necessary data. You joined Jeongin at the reception while you were waiting for your friends to finish up and talked about some mundane things to him. Then, he looked at you a little more seriously than before.

“You know, we would be really lucky to have someone like you working with us on our project.”

“Someone like me?” You asked surprised and Jeongin nodded. A warm feeling spreads inside your chest at his words.

“Yeah, I feel like having you with us here would really change things up.”

act three: spitting.

You were still thinking about what Jeongin had told you the next day at work. The same way you were still thinking about what Minho had said about you. It made you feel lighthearted and tense at the same time. It was a shame almost, you thought, that you considered this opportunity as a sign from the universe, just for it to turn out this way. The same way you were ashamed that you entertained the idea of matching with Minho.

You shook your head to ignore all of the negative thoughts coming your way. No more soulmate science, you told yourself, only your own work right in front of you. Which brought you back to your original problem. You had yet to set up a meeting between yourself and your boss, his E-Mail still looming over your head like a bad omen. 

Sighing, you opened your boss’ calendar to check his availability. You considered dragging the meeting out as far as possible, but you knew that he would scold you if you did.  Even though your unemployment might be near, you still wanted to do a good job; just in case you might still stay.

Just when you were about to put a meeting down, you saw someone storm out of your boss’ office. It was Barbara from your floor, the same one who had planted your anxiety into your head in the first place. Tears were streaming down her face as she silently walked to her desk to take her belongings out of drawers. An unpleasant atmosphere spreaded across the floor, every employee trying their best to look busy and ignore the very obvious thing that just had happened. At least Changbin would be delighted to hear about what happened.

Everyone tried to give her space while she packed her things, and you sighed to yourself again, now more worried than before. It was like the layoffs just started and you were about to seal your own destiny with the meeting you were setting up. Your mind wandered back to Jeongin and the soulmate situation he had told you about. Maybe you had nothing to lose after all. The least you could do is get free meals out of it, beside enhancing scientific data, or whatever Jeongin had called it. You took the card Jisung gave you out of your wallet again and looked at it. Minho’s name looked back at you.

Even if he did not deem you worthy of finding love, you were at least worthy of finding a roommate or getting a free meal out of this to save up money just in case, right?

Lunch came later than usual. It felt almost endless to watch Barbara pack her things and bid her goodbyes quietly. Everyone had the same tense look on their face, because everyone thought the same. Everyone had heard about the rumours about different people in the department and now, everyone thought of them to be true.

You left the office before anyone could talk to you. You were not keen on hearing about the layoffs again and just wanted to get your mind off of everything. You knew that Chan and Changbin would have to stay in during lunch today, so you decided to get them a coffee and their pastries to go. This way, you would have an excuse to leave the building and they would still have lunch. The best of both worlds.

Yeonjun greeted you the second you walked through the door. He was his usual happy self, but as soon as he sensed your uneasiness, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“You okay?” He asked while he started working on your order and you shook your head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I always worry when it comes to you,” He said, half cheekily and half earnestly. You smiled tiredly at him, the sinking feeling in your chest slowly disappearing. “Worried that I won’t come back?” 

Yeonjun snorted, “I know that you love Kai’s cookies way too much to never come back. Now tell me, what’s up?”

Your smile fell. “Someone got fired at work today. There’s been rumours about layoffs and I guess I’m just worried that I’m one of them now.”

“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun grimaced, “I’ll manifest that everything goes well for you.”

You snorted and took your stuff out of his hands.

“Manifesting? You’re the best,” You blew him a kiss and he jokingly caught it. 

“But in all seriousness, though. You’re gonna be fine. I can’t lose my favourite customer.”

You smiled again. “Thank you.”

The both of you stood there in silence for a few seconds, before you added, “I wanted to sit down for a minute and get some stuff for the guys before I head back. They can’t make it today, is that fine with you?”

“Everything you do is fine with me,” Yeonjun said with a wink, right back to his usual cheekiness. You shook your head in response, but could not help but smile. 

You sat down at your usual table and sipped on your drink, all while thinking about everything and everyone that occupied your mind these days. Just as you were reliving the words Minho said about you, the same man walked through the door. It made your stomach drop. He was wearing his usual suit without the glasses, you noticed. He had only been wearing the glasses in the lab, you had never seen him with them before, and were now wondering if he usually wore contacts. 

Minho seemed to feel your eyes on him. His own wandered into your direction and you briefly held eye contact. Despite trying your best to fight the feeling, your heart jumped in your chest, the same way it always did when he locked his eyes with yours. His eyes were dark and beautiful, and you almost felt yourself getting lost in them again. Almost.

What a shame that he’s such an asshole, you thought, looking back down at your hands in front of you, he’s way too pretty for all of that.

Minho got his own order, six coffees and a piece of chocolate cake like he always did, and you wondered if he might have gotten one for Jeongin, too. They seemed to be close from what Jeongin told you, and you wondered if they were close enough for Minho to bring his receptionist a coffee every day. 

On his way out, Minho glanced at you again. You had still been looking at him, your longing eyes glazed over while being deep in thought, unbeknownst to yourself. His lips twitched slightly when his eyes landed on you. When you felt his gaze on you after a few seconds, you just blinked a few times and huffed before looking away. Minho seemed to be dumbfounded by your reaction. He blinked a few times himself and furrowed his eyebrows. Then, he shook his head and left before you noticed any change in his demeanour. 

Hastily, you finished your own lunch and asked Yeonjun for the guys’ order, but he had it already ready for you. He gave it to you with a smile.

“Hold on tight, yeah?” You nodded and offered him a smile back, before you left the cafe yourself. Only on your way back did you notice that he had added your favourite pastries of Kai’s into the mix and the sweet gesture made you tear up. 

When you arrived at the company, you still had time left from your own lunch and decided to spend it entirely at the guy’s office. They were more than happy to see you and the lunch you got for them. You sat down with them while they were eating, still somewhat caught in your own thoughts.

“Barbara got fired today,” you said eventually and they both looked at each other.

“Good. I heard she was shit at her job, anyway,” Changbin answered smugly and you shrugged.

“Does it matter? That probably means they’re actually laying people off now.”

Chan furrowed his eyebrows. “Do you really have anything to worry about if you’re doing your job right?”

You shrugged, “Who knows. I know I’ll only be able to sleep at night when all of this is over. Speaking of.”

You sat up straight and inhaled slowly, “I think I want to send my samples in too.”

Changbin clapped and cheered, resulting in a side eye from Chan.

“That app is amazing, I’m telling you. They already had my matches ready to go for me this morning and I already have a date set up for tonight.”

“Already? What type of match was it?” Chan laughed and Changbin rolled his eyes. “It was a base match, but does it really matter? I just want to hook up with someone. I don’t care how well we match. And if I actually end up finding my person with all of this, how bad can it really be?”

“Romantic,” you said drily and took a sip out of your water bottle. Changbin stuck his tongue out at you.

“As if you’re any better. Let me guess, you’re still looking for a roommate?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mind your business.”

Chan grinned, “You know, you can always move in with us, right?”

“No matter how many times you tell me this, I always see Changbin’s nasty underwear in front of my inner eye,” you answered dramatically, “Barbara dodged a bullet when she rejected him.”

Changbin huffed.

“You’d be grateful to see me in my underwear.”

“I’d be grateful to never see you ever again,” you joked, to which Changbin pouted in response. You cooed at him and now it was Chan’s turn to roll his eyes at the both of you.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Did you get a match yet?” Changbin asked Chan and Chan nodded.

“I got a silver match,” He said proudly and Changbin whistled.

“Hear, hear. Maybe I’m in need of a roommate if this goes well?”

Chan’s ears turned red, “Well, I haven’t really texted them yet.”

You hit his shoulder, “Idiot. That’s what the app is for?”

“I will do it soon,” Chan said and rubbed his shoulder, “I’m trying my best, okay?”

“I know,” you said and leaned back in your chair, “I guess we all do.”

After that, you called Jeongin and sent your samples in on the same day.

act four: waiting.

A few days had passed since you had talked to Jeongin. He received your samples and your forms already, but you were still waiting to have any confirmed matches. Whereas it took your friends less than a day to find someone new to talk to, it had been days and your app was still as empty as ever. Jeongin had mentioned that everyone got at least a base match one way or another. It started to make you feel nervous that something went wrong, as you anxiously opened the app again and again throughout your days.

While waiting for your soulmate app to work, you had finally set up your meeting with your boss. You gave yourself a few days until you actually had to face him, just enough time to check out some of your matches for a possible roommate to ease your nerves for the worst case scenario. Yet, since your matches did not come in, you were growing even more nervous than before.

The meeting with your boss was set for tomorrow and you were mentally already preparing for the worst. Even though Chan and Changbin were doing their best to ease your nerves by telling you how good of a job you were doing, you still felt hesitant to say the least. Maybe the non-existent matches on a genetic soulmate app were a bad sign. At least that is what you were telling yourself while you were staring at your computer screen, ignoring your incoming emails for now, waiting for your lunch break to finally start.

It did, eventually, and you made your way to the cafe with Changbin and Chan again, just like you always did. Soobin was behind the counter today, together with Taehyun. They were both tall guys and close friends with Yeonjun and Beomgyu, the owners of the cafe. You were usually very happy to see them, especially since they took less shifts these days to focus on their studies. But today, nothing seemed to excite you.

Soobin greeted the three of you with a kind smile. He and Taehyun got your regular order ready while the three of you sat down. The cafe was empty. You guys were the only guests today, which meant that you finally had some peace and quiet. That was, until the door opened and two guys walked in.

One of them was Jisung, whom you recognised from last time. He looked somewhat dishevelled. Jisung had another guy with him, about the same height, with short black hair and a sweet smile on his face. Both of them bickered about something, until Jisung’s eyes fell onto your frame. 

“Hi!” he called out for you and the three of you looked up at him.

“What’s up?” Changbin greeted him back, while you just gave him a slight smile. Chan nodded.

“I was just wondering if you got our E-Mail?” Jisung asked, while the other guy got their order with Soobin. That means Minho most likely will not come in today, you noted, feeling your heart fall at the thought. Even though his words had hurt you, you still liked seeing him at the cafe every day. It was a constant in your life; one you did not know how much longer you would be able to keep. 

“Your message?” You asked, stopping your daydreaming. You furrowed your eyebrows, “What message?”

“We have a meeting later today and wanted to have you there. We sent you an E-Mail, but we didn’t get an answer?”

“All of us?” Chan asked and before he could ask something else, Jisung already interrupted him. “No, only Y/N.”

Your friends looked at you, while you kept your eyes on Jisung’s face. Your heart dropped. “Why?”

“There’s something we wanted to talk about. Nothing major, just something...” He waved his hands in the air, while his friend came back to stand beside him. He had an entry tray of Kai’s pastries in his arms and waited for Jisung to finish.

“Ji, we have to go,” he said and nodded towards the door. Jisung looked outside and squinted his eyes.

“Oh god, yeah. See you later!” He bid his farewell, while his friend beside him just waved awkwardly, trying not to let the pastries fall all over the floor. The same way they appeared, they vanished, and your friends kept staring at you.

“Why do they want to talk to you?” Changbin asked, while Chan kept his eyes on you.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, suddenly a little bit uncomfortable. You shifted around in your chair, “Maybe because the app isn’t working for me.”

“Not working for you?” Chan replied, “Why would it not work for you?”

You started to feel more uneasy now, the nerves from earlier this morning settling back into your stomach. “I don’t know? It’s definitely not helping.”

“Maybe they made a mistake,” Chan said carefully, “It worked for us the day after. I’m sure there’s a reason for it. Maybe the DNA sample wasn’t good enough?”

You shrugged. “Possibly.” Then, you leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes in the process.

“I just can’t believe that stuff like this keeps happening to me.”

At that moment, you heard the bell ring again, indicating another customer entering the cafe. You opened one of your eyes and were greeted with Minho standing in front of your table, glancing over at you the same way he did last time. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked back at him this time, wondering why he actually did come in today when Jisung had already been here. 

Minho noticed your eyes on him and held your gaze for a few seconds. You were still lost in your own thoughts and did not notice how red his ears had turned, and how shily he turned around after he noticed that your eyes were already set on him. All you could feel was the uneasy feeling settling back in your chest. The corners of his lips twitched again.

He got his regular order, six coffees with a piece of chocolate cake, all while the guys and you were still talking to each other. You tried to ignore everything occupying your brain, and asked your friends about their mixtape instead. Chan and Changbin loved working on music together in their free time and you loved listening to them talk about whatever they were producing at the moment. 

That was, until Minho was about to leave the cafe again. He struggled to open the door by himself this time, so you got up and offered to open it for him instead.

“Thank you?” He said, rather a question than a statement. His lips twitched slightly.

You licked your own before saying: “The meeting today, what do you need me in for, if you don’t mind me asking? Because I’m kinda busy at work right now.”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows at your words and stood up straight. “The meeting?”

You held his gaze, not knowing what to say next. Your nerves settled back in as you looked at him.

“Our company meetings are a private matter. We usually don’t discuss our findings with our participants unless it directly affects them,” he said slowly, taking one step towards the door.

“Thank you for holding the door open for me, by the way.” And with that, he disappeared. 

“Why do they keep doing this?” You complained, falling back down in your chair. Changbin chuckled.

“Maybe it’s because you stress them out.”

“Not doing anything,” you defended yourself, taking a sip of your drink, “I just want to know what they want me in for.”

“I mean, you could always read the E-Mail,” Chan suggested and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Yeah, cut your boyfriend some slack,” Changbin chimed in. He barely escaped the hit that came his way this time.

“Maybe they’re inviting you because you got a high match with someone,” Chan said dreamily, “That would be soo romantic.”

“Or no match at all,” you mumbled, your mood going back sour. 

Changbin rolled his eyes, “What did we tell you about living a little?”

act five: matching.

You went back to STAYwm right after your shift ended. Your boss had wished you a good day when he saw you leave, and you sighed internally at the thought of your meeting tomorrow. 

The way to the company was uneventful. You kept thinking about reasons why they asked you to drop by again. Maybe they wanted to offer you a job, you thought, maybe they saw that you were a receptionist on your spreadsheet and wanted to hire someone to help Jeongin out. Despite knowing that this most likely would not be the case, you wanted to entertain the idea a little while longer, considering that the realistic possibilities would most likely put a damper on your mood. You did not want to think about the idea Chan had had, that they had called you in for a high level match. It sounded silly to think about, especially since the odds were so low.

Jeongin greeted you right when you entered the building. He had his usual smile on his lips, his eyes turning into crescents the second he saw you. It made your heart flutter.

“Nice to see you again,” he said and walked towards you from behind his desk. You smiled at him nervously and waited for him to show you where to go. 

“Do you know why they asked me to come back?” You asked him quietly and Jeongin grimaced. 

“You know that I’m not allowed to tell you that, right?”

You sighed, “It was worth trying.”

Jeongin led you towards a meeting room. It was filled with everyone you met during your tour. You saw Jisung and the guy from earlier today sitting beside each other quarrelling about something you did not quite catch. Hyunjin and Felix, the scientists who worked at the lab with Minho, were sitting beside them, absorbed in their own conversation. Both had a stern look on their face, almost worried. 

All four men looked up when you walked through the door. The conversations stopped and you glanced over at Jeongin, looking for reassurance. Jeongin noticed and carefully touched your back to lead you into the room, announcing your presence.

Everyone in the room greeted you with either a nod or a hello, except for Jisung. He got up and smiled at you widely to offer you a hug, which you hesitantly accepted.

You sat down beside him, Jeongin on the other side of you, and waited for someone to speak.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Hyunjin started. You looked at him with an awkward smile on your lips. “Yeah, I guess you could say so.”

Hyunjin looked at Felix, who continued speaking.

“You have heard that we are working on finding different types of matches for everyone, right?” Felix began carefully. You nodded, “Yeah, Jeongin told me when I first came here.”

Felix and Hyunjin glanced at each other, “So you also know that we are trying our best to find high percentage matches for everyone participating?”

You nodded again, “Yes.”

“Good, good,” Felix said and Hyunjin continued, “And out of all matches, we had yet to find a titanium match.”

“Mhm,” you said, not sure why they were telling you this.

The guy sitting beside Jisung was sliding a small stack of documents towards you. You grabbed them and looked through the data. It was interesting to see what they were able to do with just some spit and a form, you thought. The amount of information in front of you was sheer endless, and before you could ask them why they were showing you this, you saw your own name on one of the documents. 

“Why is my sheet in here?” You asked. Felix and Hyunjin both looked at you.

“It’s because you have a titanium match.”

Your breath hitched. “With whom?”

“The meeting’s started already?” 

It was Minho. Your heart dropped. You did not even notice that he had opened the door and just stared at the documents in front of you. 

Beside you, Jisung got up and walked towards Minho.

“About that.” He took Minho by his arm. Minho just looked at you confusedly and let Jisung pull him out of the room. 

“Sorry, we didn’t get to talk to him about this yet,” Jeongin laughed nervously. You stared at him, your heart rapidly beating inside your chest.

“Isn’t he the one who usually works on high percentage matches, too?”

“Not this one,” Felix said, “Because we used his sample.”

Silence.

“Shouldn’t he be the first one to know?” You asked carefully.

Silence.

“Is this real?”

Felix was the first one who nodded, “It is. And it’s a wonderful opportunity. Not only for you, but for us, too.”

“I don’t understand,” you mumbled, your eyes finding Felix’. How could you be the perfect match for someone who did not even want you to participate in the first place?

“We’ve been looking for a match like yours for years now,” Hyunjin began. Jeongin sensed your uneasiness and you felt him look for your hand under the table to squeeze it gently. “This is really important to our company and if you allow us too, we would love to document your journey together.”

“You want to monetise my love life?”

“No!” The guy whose name you still did not know said, sitting up, “We just want to advertise it.”

“That’s not what we wanted to say,” Hyunjin groaned and Felix beside him sighed defeatedly. 

“We want to show our future participants that the titanium match isn’t just a theory, but a possibility. It’s what we were striving for all these years, and with your help, we can find hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of people their titanium match.”

“I don’t know -”

“You don’t need to decide just yet. Just know that this would be our breakthrough. And isn’t the possibility of a high match what made you sign up in the first place?”

You grimaced and locked eyes with Felix again. “I guess so.”

His eyes lit up at your answer, “So does that mean you will give it a thought?”

Outside the door, Minho glared at Jisung. The both of them were standing just outside the room. Jisung had been the one who decided that they would keep this match a secret from Minho, at least until he was in a headspace to receive the news. Unfortunately, the work on his desk kept piling up until Jisung had no other choice but to call you in for a meeting himself, since you started getting worried about having no matches shown on your app. Chan had texted him about it.

“What’s going on?” Minho asked and Jisung took a step backwards.

“It’s nothing bad.”

Minho took a step forward again, his heart beating rapidly. “Then why are they here?”

“They have a titanium match.”

Minho blinked, his mouth feeling dry. “A titanium match? With whom?”

“With you.”

A silence spread between both men. Minho felt his heart thumping even faster inside his chest.

Then, Minho whispered.

 “With me?”

Jisung nodded, carefully putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“This could be great for you.”

Minho huffed, “Great for the company.”

“Hey.” Jisung squeezed his shoulder gently, “I don’t care about the company. I know that -”

“You should care about the company,” Minho interrupted him, “I will. You want us to date for publicity, yeah?”

Jisung nodded, his hand falling back to the side of his body, “Yeah.”

The corners of Minho’s lips twitched.

“I know that you’re nervous, but -”

“No more buts,” Minho mumbled, walking past Jisung, “I need to handle this professionally. I can’t let my feelings get in the way every single time.”

Jisung just sighed as he watched Minho disappear in the room again.

“We should do it,” Minho’s voice interrupted your conversation once again. He went back into the room with Jisung by his side, who looked more stressed than you had ever seen him. 

“Date?” You asked, grimacing again.

Minho huffed, back to his stoic demeanour, “Obviously.”

“You want to date me?” The disbelief in your voice seemed to not pass by everyone in the room. They all looked at Minho, whose jaw clenched slightly.

“I mean, for the experiment, yes.”

Jisung sighed and Felix said: “We’ll let you guys talk. Just call us back when you’ve decided on something, alright?”

You nodded and so did Minho. Jeongin beside you squeezed your hand once again before he let go and left the room with the others. It made you feel a bit more at ease, which you were grateful for. Jisung whispered something into Minho’s ear, who pressed his lips together in response. Then, Jisung left too.

“I think we should date,” Minho said again, “It will be good for the company.”

You huffed, “Why would I care about your company?”

It was a simple question. Despite feeling butterflies inside your stomach whenever you saw him, which you would never admit out loud, you were scared. You still felt tense and your heart felt heavy when you thought about what he had said just a few days ago.

“Because we will pay you.”

Your ears perked up at his offer. Your mind wandered to your meeting with your boss that was set for the day after, and suddenly, this seemed like a whole new possibility for you. An opportunity that could possibly be even better than finding a roommate.

Yet, you remembered the words Minho said just a few days ago when he talked to Felix and Hyunjin at the lab. 

“Are you sure that you want to be seen with me?” You asked, looking directly into his eyes. Your heart started beating a little bit faster again. So did Minho’s as he looked back at you confusedly. “What?”

“What was it you said? My DNA is below average?”

Minho’s ears turned red. “This is not what I meant.”

“It’s what I heard.”

He sighed, “Listen. We will pay you. We really need this to market our app. It doesn’t even have to be real, just…”

Minho took a step back, “I’m not looking to date now, anyway. We can play pretend and in return, you’ll get paid.”

“How much?”

Minho closed his eyes, “I’ll talk about this with the others again. If you have an amount in mind, I’m sure we can meet in the middle somehow.”

You thought about it again for another second, before you nodded.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Minho sighed and opened the door. Jisung and the guy who was sitting beside him stumbled inside the room. It made Minho massage the spot between his eyes and you laughed slightly. Whether out of disbelief or genuine fun was hard to tell.

A few hours later, Jisung had the first copy of the contract in his hand. Everyone sat back down at the table and started talking about the possibilities of this relationship. Or whatever it was, that is. Words you did not understand were being thrown around, they talked about different events the both of you would have to visit together, and eventually, they offered you money. Different amounts, until you looked somewhat pleased. The money they offered would be enough to cover your rent for a few more months. So even if the meeting with your boss would go well, you would still get some extra money for your savings. You read through the entire contract once, and then again.

“Is this gonna affect my actual job in any way?” You asked as you put the pen down. Jisung shook his head, “We’re gonna handle it. It shouldn’t interfere with what you’re doing and we will make sure that you won’t accidentally go to jail for tax evasion.”

You looked up at him and then back down with a sigh. If you went to jail for this with him, at least your roommate would be funny. Eventually, you signed the document without giving it another thought.

“And that’s it,” Minho said, leaning back in his chair. He looked exhausted, just like you did, and his eyes told a story that you did not quite understand yet. The both of you locked eyes with each other for a brief second, before the meeting was declared over. It made the butterflies return and you tried to ignore them as best as you could.

Jeongin got up first and showed you the way back to the entrance. Minho looked after you when you left, his eyes lingering on yours for a few more moments, until you disappeared out of his sight.

“I think it’s great that you’re doing this,” Jeongin said when the both of you were out of earshot from the others. 

You snorted, “I think it’s great that I get money out of it.”

“I believe you,” Jeongin laughed. The both of you slowed down and stood in front of the door all by yourself. It was already starting to get dark outside and you felt the light breeze on your skin. 

“Minho isn’t all that bad,” he added after some moments of silence. You nodded, desperately hoping that he was right.

act six: planning.

You were supposed to come back the day after. Before that, though, you still had to attend your meeting with your boss. You arrived at work early that day, partly because you wanted to make a good impression and partly because you wanted to clean your desk up a little, just in case. It was not long until your boss asked you to see him. 

Sighing, you got up. You could feel the eyes of your co-workers on your frame and the quiet whispers that followed. When you went into your boss’ office, he asked you to close the door.

“There is something I need to talk to you about,” he started right away. You cleared your throat and nodded.

“As you might have heard, the company is planning to let go of some of our employees, now,” when he saw the scared look in your eyes, he shook his head, “This isn’t one of those conversations. Don’t worry.”

To say that you were relieved was an understatement. You looked at your boss and he smiled at your reaction. 

“The reason I mentioned this is because I need you to schedule these meetings for me. I have a list of people I’m supposed to meet with for layoffs and promotions and that’s what I need you for.”

He put an entire stack of documents right in front of you. The first one was a list of everyone who was supposed to get fired in the near future. Hastily, your eyes scanned every name on the list, your heart beating inside your chest. Chan’s and Changbin’s names were nowhere to find and you exhaled quietly. They were safe, just like you had expected. 

Your boss told you about the specifics and when he would need to see which employee. He went on and on about the specifics, and you noted everything down. Then, he added, “And after we’re all done, I need to schedule an official meeting with you again.”

“With me?” you asked, slightly more nervous than before. Your boss nodded.

“Can I ask what it is about?”

This time, he shook his head, “It’s still somewhat undecided, but we will definitely have to officially meet up one way or another.”

His words sounded ominous, which made you sigh internally. Your fear of getting fired would live on, you thought as you left his office again. Your coworkers stared at you when you walked back to your desk and everyone visibly relaxed when you did not start to clear your desk.

This just meant that you would still keep Minho’s offer to date him. It was not like you were able to get out of it now anyway, since you already signed the contract. The same contract you would discuss again with him after work. The thought of it made you sigh again.

After work, you went right back to STAYwm to meet up with Minho, the stress about your own possible layoff still not leaving your head any time soon. Just like the last few times you came over, Jeongin was already waiting for you behind his desk at the reception. He offered you some sweets right when you walked in, which you gracefully accepted. Then, he showed you the way to the meeting room where Minho was waiting for you.

“Have fun,” Jeongin teased with a wink and your head rolled onto your chest.

“I’ll try.”

Jeongin patted your back before he left, his cheeky laugh still chiming in your ears.

When you opened the door, Minho was sitting at a bigger desk. He was wearing his glasses again this time around and took them off the second he noticed your presence. Minho straightened his posture and stood up, offering you a hand to shake.

“Is this how you greet someone you’re dating?” You joked and Minho frowned, letting his arm fall back to his side.

“We don’t even know what our partnership entails yet,” he said and gestured for you to sit down. Awkwardly, you did and were immediately greeted with your second stack of documents of the day. 

“I know that we already talked about what our contract includes, but I wanted to talk about everything in detail with you again, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded in agreement and looked at everything in front of you again.

“What do we have here,” Minho looked through his own papers.

“I was already set to have guest lectures at different campuses all across the country. Originally, I wanted to explain the theoretical aspects of the app, but now that we have you here, we can dive deeper into the practice.”

“The practice?” You joked, “What were you planning on doing in practice?”

“Oh, you know, just telling them about - oh god, don’t.” Minho groaned and rolled his eyes at you. Yet, he could not hide the slight blush that made its way on his cheeks. You laughed lightly, his reaction making your heart soar.

“What do you want me to do on that tour?”

Minho coughed, “We just need you there, I guess. Just tell everyone how happy you are to have joined the app and got to meet me and let me do the rest.”

You hummed and Minho added, “I would visit about five campuses. Would that be alright with you? We will pay for the trip, everything included.”

You nodded, “That sounds fine.”

Minho marked something on his page and turned it around.

“We’ll also have to do an interview together.”

“An interview?”

“Yes, to show the general public that high percentage matches actually exist. I don’t think that they’ll understand the general gist of our actual work, so promoting it in the basic way is the way to go. Which brings me to another point: We’ll also have to post each other on social media from time to time. Just to make it seem more believable. I’m more or less part of the public eye, so it would definitely look suspicious if the founder of a dating app wouldn’t post his partner he’s publicly advertising.”

You smiled again, “So you agree? You’re monetizing your relationship?”

“Not a relationship,” he reminded you somewhat harshly and your smile fell, as did your heart. 

“And last but not least, we’ll also have to film an advertisement. Jisung and Seungmin said that it would help and they want us to be a part of it, since we’re advertising the app in person anyway.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you mumbled, unsure how to feel about this. The money, you reminded yourself, you like money.

“And what are we gonna do after?”

Minho frowned, “What do you mean, ‘after’?”

You shifted in your chair, “You know, when this fake relationship is over.”

“We can’t tell anyone that we are dating to promote the app,” Minho said immediately. You huffed, “I gathered that much.”

“Titanium matches don’t guarantee a relationship completely. You can always match with someone else and like them more. This is just about restricting a possible dating pool, not guaranteeing a genetic soulmate.”

“So even when we break up after…”

“Even then we’ll still be able to show that the app is working. Matches can end up being platonic, too.” 

“Even for us?” You asked, dreading to hear his answer. Minho paused.

“That’s what we will tell everyone, anyway.”

Later, Minho was still sitting at his table and looked after you as you left, his heart feeling heavy seeing you leave. Jisung came into his office soon after and both men looked at each other.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with all of this?” Jisung asked and Minho clenched his jaw.

“It’s good for the company.”

“But is it good for you? I know that you have fe-”

“Enough.” Minho exhaled, “I can’t put my own needs over the company, how many times do I have to tell you that?”

Jisung pressed his lips together.

“I’m just looking out for you.”

Minho looked up, a sad look across his face.

“Thank you.”

Outside, you yourself ran straight into Jeongin when you closed the door.

“Hi, you’re still here?” He had some more sheets of paper in his arms, probably about whatever Minho had planned to do with you. You looked at him and sighed, closing your eyes for a brief second. 

“I’m so tired.”

Jeongin smiled, “So, you match with the boss? How do you feel?”

You sighed again, more dramatically this time.

“It’s whatever. Money is money, I guess.”

Jeongin perks up at that, “So you’re not really interested in dating him?”

“Not really,” You shook your head, a weird feeling settling inside your chest, “And neither is he, if his weird reaction is anything to go by. I doubt that he likes me in any way, shape, or form.”

Jeongin hummed and licked his lips.

“Does that mean you would be up to go on a date? With me?”

He was nervous. One of his hands was playing with the sheets in his arms and his eyebrows were adorably furrowed. You smiled at his gesture. It came as a surprise to you and yet, you were definitely not against it. Jeongin was a great guy and you appreciated him dearly. At least this would take your mind off of Minho.

“Of course I would. Just tell me when and where and I will be there.”

The next day came and with that, you were back at the cafe. Since you skipped lunch with the guys the day before, they were now more than curious to know more about your meeting at the dating company. The three of you were sitting at your usual table, like always, right beside the entrance. Your drinks were already done and the fresh batch of pastries was already sitting in front of you.

“Soo, how did the meeting go?” Changbin asked you again and you hummed.

“I hate to say it, but you guys were right.”

“You’re unlovable?”

You rolled your eyes at Changbin’s words, “I have a match, dumbass.”

“Only one?”

“Only one I know of, yes.”

Chan raised his eyebrow, “Why would they only tell you about one?”

“Because it’s a titanium match,” you hummed and took a bite out of your lunch. Chan and Changbin gasped in unisono.

“A titanium match?”

“Mhm,” you replied and looked at their shocked faces.

“Wasn’t that the super rare one?” Changbin asked in disbelief.

Chan leaned closer towards you, “Who is it?”

“Not telling,” you teased with a cheeky smile, even though you were dying to let your friends know what you were up to. Just as you were about to come up with some fake story to tell them, Minho entered the cafe at the same time like he always did. He had a frown on his face and looked around the cafe. When he spotted you, he sent a smile your way. It seemed almost genuine; the way he crinkled his eyes, and the way his lips curled up at the sight of you. Then, Minho waved at you shily. It was almost comical to see the guy who rarely showed any emotions on his face be so sweet to you. Not that you minded it much, the smile suited him. He looked sweet and it woke the butterflies up once again.

You waved back, although awkwardly, and your friends stared at you. Minho turned his back to your table to order his coffees and his piece of chocolate cake, his usual frown back on his face, as if the moments before never happened.

“Why is he so nice to you?” Changbin whispered and you were almost certain that Minho had heard it, judging by the way his shoulders tensed under his suit. You shrugged earnestly in response. Chan’s eyes jumped between you and Minho. He counted two and two together and snorted. Unsurprisingly, Changbin did not and kept nagging you.

Just when Minho was about to leave the cafe again, he stopped at your table. At first, he said nothing. He was still frowning, just as he was before.

“Can I see you tonight after work?” He asked calmly. If you did not know any better, you would think that his words almost carried some shyness. Your friends’ eyes fell onto your form again. While Chan was giggling into his coffee, Changbin gawked at you. 

Minho seemed to notice the confusion at the table and added, “I just wanted to take you out on a date.”

Changbin’s mouth opened while he kept staring at you and Minho. Chan was now almost fully hiding behind his coffee cup, while you tried to stop yourself from acting as fluttered as you felt. Instead, you smiled up at Minho, who was looking at you with a deadpan expression. It was impossible to read what was going on in his mind.

“That would be great,” you said, watching him visibly relax.

“Great,” he answered, taking a step closer towards the door. He nodded towards your friends, before he said, “I’ll text you later. See you!”

Then, he left.

Changbin turned fully towards you now, while Changbin started laughing.

“What the hell was that?”

You took your own drink into your hands and took a sip out of it, awkwardly trying to change the topic but to no avail.

act seven: dating.

As promised, Minho texted you to let you know about the meeting he had set up for the both of you the same night. It was less of a date and more another opportunity for the both of you to get to know each other. Yet, the day of you still decided to drop by at the cafe before you went over to get both of you something to drink and a piece of chocolate cake for him. The same one he always ordered for himself whenever he came over. If Yeonjun noticed anything, he did not comment on it. He only smirked when he handed you your order and wished you a nice day.

When you arrived at the company building, Jeongin was, for once, not sitting at his desk. He must have been on a break or running some errands. The both of you had not talked since he had asked you out on a date. Yet, you did not think too much of it, since the both of you were busy, anyway. You made your way over to Minho's office and knocked on the door.

You went inside and saw him sitting at his desk again. He was not wearing his suit jacket this time. It hung neatly behind him on his desk chair. His eyes behind his glasses were scanning the screen of his computer in front of him and he stared at it with a serious look on his face, somewhat irritated, even. When he noticed you in his office, he looked up.

“Hi,” you greeted him. Minho only nodded for you to sit down in the chair opposite of his.

“Give me a minute to finish this, please.”

You nodded and did as he asked, deciding to ignore the thumping inside your chest. After that, you studied his expression while he was typing. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed. There were creases on his forehead and his pinkish lips were slightly ajar. He was wearing his glasses with the black frame, the same one he wore the first time you saw him at the lab. As you were studying his face, you noticed that he looked slightly younger than you thought he was. He was just a man in his mid-twenties, an attractive one at that. You could barely believe that someone as beautiful as him was supposed to be in your life, if science did not play a cruel joke on you.

“So,” he interrupted your thought process and focused on you again, “You’re here to discuss our first campus presentation again, correct?”

You affirmed his question and put your drinks and the piece of chocolate cake on top of his table.

“I didn’t know how long this would take, so I got us a little something, if you don’t mind.”

Minho glanced at the cup of coffee and the piece of chocolate cake and right back up into your eyes. There was something sincere about his confusion when he said, “This is not a real date.”

You felt your face heat up and stared down at your hands.

“I know, I just thought it would be nice. You don’t need to accept it if you don’t want to.”

A silence spread between the both of you, until Minho cleared his throat. 

“Thank you,” he declared eventually, “Let me know how much it was and I’ll send you the money later.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine, it’s my treat.”

“Thank you,” The corners of his lips perked up slightly. Neither of you said anything else after that. Minho was skimming through the sheets on his desk, while you took some sips out of your drink, not noticing his longing glances in between his searches.

“I hope I’m not overstepping when I say this, but don’t you think we should get to know each other before we present ourselves in public together?”

Minho fully looked up at what you said. “Huh?”

“I mean,” you shifted on your chair, “Wouldn’t people be able to tell that we’re not dating if I can’t even tell them what your favourite colour is?”

“Why would anyone ask you for my favourite colour?”

“It’s,” you sighed, shaking your head, “It’s whatever. What did you want to tell me?”

Minho hesitated, “I wanted to show you my notes and maybe post something on social media already?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Minho shrugged.

Suddenly, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

Minho shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “I’m sorry for what I said about you.”

“Oh,” you answered, pressing your lips together, “I don’t care that this isn’t a real date.”

He leaned forwards in his chair, looking at your face.

“I didn’t want to apologise for that,” he said softly, his eyes still on yours, “I wanted to apologise for what I said in the lab when you visited.”

“That I’m below average?” You pressed your lips together. 

Sighing, Minho answered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sounded like you did.”

Silence.

“We just haven’t had the chance to open our app to the general public yet.”

“Then why did you allow Jisung to recruit us?”

Minho huffed, “He kinda has a mind of his own, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“Whatever,” you said, looking away, “I know that you didn’t want me to join because you think I’m below your average and now we’re here. So what’s the point in arguing?”

Confusedly, Minho stated, “You’re not. You’re perfectly average.”

You rolled your eyes and replied, “I’m sorry that I don’t know how any of this science stuff works. I’m just trying to afford being alive, one way or another. I’m not here to impress you or actually date you, don’t worry.”

You stood up, “Just send me everything via E-Mail again or send me a text. I’d prefer to leave now.”

When you left, Minho just looked after you. 

On your way out, you ran into Jeongin

“You’re back already?” He asked excitedly, but stopped in his tracks the second he saw your sour expression. 

“Minho?” He added instead and you nodded, rolling your eyes.

“I feel like this was a bad idea.”

Jeongin smiled lightly, “Do you want to talk? I’ll buy you a drink later and you can tell me how awful my boss is.”

You nodded, “This is exactly what I need right now.”

At the same time, Jisung walked right past you into Minho’s office.

“What did you do?” Jisung asked him right away. Minho looked up from his desk, his chocolate cake half eaten in front of him.

“Pardon?”

Jisung sat down on the same chair you had sat on just moments before.

“I asked you what you did, dumbass.”

“Nothing?”

Jisung rolled his eyes dramatically, “Then why is your titanium match planning to get drunk with Jeongin?”

Minho pressed his lips together. “I don’t care what they’re planning.”

His best friend leaned in closer, watching the corners of Minho’s lips twitch.

“Liar. You’re nervous. What did you do?”

Minho sighed, pushing his jealousy away, “I tried to apologise for being an ass and it kinda backfired. Because I’m not only an ass, I’m also stupid.”

“What did you say?”

“I told them that they’re perfectly average.”

Jisung groaned, “That’s like, the last thing someone you’re in a relationship with wants to hear.”

“Not a real relationship.”

“Dumbass.”

When Jisung tried to kick Minho under the table, Minho kicked back and Jisung winced.

“I didn’t mean it like that. They overheard me talk to Hyunjin and Felix about the new samples. We saw them walk past the lab and they looked very dishevelled to say the least. All I said was that I’m not sure whether we should include samples from the general public yet and they misunderstood me. It’s not my fault.”

Pulling his feet under his chair, Jisung asked, “Do they know that?”

Minho rubbed his eyes, “Why do you need to make everything more complicated than it is?”

You waited for Jeongin to finish up in the parking lot. He had offered to drive you to the bar, which you gratefully accepted. While waiting, you got a new notification on your phone. Minho had tagged you in his Instagram story, it said. Hesitantly, you opened it and were greeted with a picture of the chocolate cake you had bought him. The caption read "My favourite from my favourite” with a red heart at the end of the sentence. You smiled when you saw it, a warmth spreading inside your chest as you read his words. Then, you remembered the fight you just had. It wasn’t real, you told yourself, shaking your head as Jeongin approached you. He’s just doing all of this for appearances.

“Are you ready to go?” Jeongin greeted you and you nodded with a slight smile. The both of you did some small talk until you reached the bar. Inside, Jeongin ordered you and himself something to drink. He sat down beside you and smacked his lips.

“Care to share what he did?”

You took a sip out of your drink. “Remember the first day my friends and I came over?”

“Clear as day.” Jeongin confirmed.

“When I went to the bathroom while you guys were talking, I walked past the lab, the one Hyunjin and Felix worked at.”

You considered what to say next and played with the drink in your hand for a few seconds. “Minho was there with them. He talked about how even ‘below average participants’ should be allowed to find love. Considering that you mentioned that we’re one of the first non-science people to join, I’m pretty sure that he was talking about Chan, Changbin, and I.”

Jeongin hummed, “Did he mention you directly?”

“No,” you shook your head, “but he apologised for it earlier.”

“He did?” Jeongin appeared surprised. You nodded.

“He called me ‘perfectly average’, whatever that means.”

Jeongin took another sip out of his drink and snorted in response.

“Are you sure that you were talking about the same thing?”

“What else would he be talking about?”

It was silent, before Jeongin answered, “Minho can be somewhat peculiar at times. Not sure how else to say it, but he likes to talk with his big science terms and I know that he seems cold at first, but I promise, if you give him a real chance, he can be a good friend.”

“Are you saying this because you’re working for him?”

“I’m saying this because he’s one of my best friends,” Jeongin insisted. 

You apologised, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“That’s why I’m telling you,” he smiled at you in response, “If we’re being completely honest, I’m barely qualified for this job. I heard about the app in one of his very early guest lectures, back when the app was only a theory and not a practice, and I was immediately sold. I wasn’t smart enough to work in the lab with him, but Seungmin and I still wanted to help out. That’s why he got both of us a job; me at the reception and Seungmin is part of the marketing department now. We believed in him and in return, he believed in us. We got a lot closer, too. This job helps me finance my studies. I’m currently working on my masters and I wouldn’t be able to if it weren’t for him.”

“I didn’t know,” you admitted, but Jeongin shook his head, “Minho is a good guy. He even buys us coffee every single day out of his own pocket and he never asks for anything back. The second you break through his initial cold demeanour, you will realise just how wonderful he actually is.”

“I guess so.”

You thought about what Jeongin had just told you. Part of you still believed that Minho had insulted you, whereas the other part wanted to believe that it was a misunderstanding. After all, this was the guy who matched with you almost perfectly, one way or another.

“But enough about him,” Jeongin mused, “I don’t think I ever asked you, but did you find out about your other matches too by any chance?”

You shook your head in response, “They never updated my app. I just assumed that Minho was the only one.”

Jeongin smiled shyly and took his phone out of his pocket. He opened the dating app on his phone and showed you your profile. It was a picture of you and your name, your general interests, and the number 64 right above your head.

“We had a match?” you asked surprisedly, suddenly feeling shy, and Jeongin nodded. 

“A gold match. I didn’t know if you knew, though. And I don’t want you to think that I only asked you out because of the app, I really only saw it this morning. I rarely ever check it if I’m being honest.”

“Wow,” you answered, peeking at his phone again, “That’s such a high number?”

“We don’t need to do anything about it,” Jeongin assured you immediately, “I just really like spending time with you.”

You smiled shily, “You’re a great guy to be around, Jeongin.”

“But?”

You sighed, suddenly feeling embarrassed again, “But I’m not sure if I’m actually looking to date someone right now. I feel like it would kinda ruin the purpose of my newfound fake relationship with your boss.”

In response, he just laughed, “It’s all good with me. But can I ask you why you signed up for it? If you don’t mind sharing.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumbled, shifting in your seat.

“Just tell me,” Jeongin teased you, “It can stay between the both of us.”

Following that promise, you told Jeongin about the layoffs at your work, at your fears of losing your apartment, and your desire to find a roommate. He did not laugh at you once and only hummed at everything you said. Then, he said, “I’m actually looking for a roommate, too. Seungmin’s moving out and I can’t really cover the rent by myself.”

“Really?” 

Jeongin nodded in confirmation and you laughed, “Please tell me that you’re offering to move in with me.”

“If you’re up to it, absolutely,” he agreed happily. 

Over the course of your date, the both of you got to know each other more. You told each other about your lives, where you came from, your hobbies; literally everything that came to your mind. It was easy to be around Jeongin, you noted. He was easy to talk to and a great friend, but you were missing the spark the app had promised you. It was what he told you, too, when your conversation went back to your match. 

“Aren’t matches supposed to be romantic?” You asked him, but he just shrugged. 

“Not necessarily.”

Following that, he asked hesitantly, “Can I kiss you?”

It was a simple request, but it made you feel somewhat guilty. You thought about Minho and the relationship you had, that you already treasured despite it being in the weird state that it was. Minho did not like you, you knew that, and everything was fake anyway, so what would be wrong with having some fun with a nice guy you liked? You nodded, shily, after hesitating for a quick second, and allowed him to lean in. His lips were soft. They felt easy against yours. He cupped your cheeks carefully and pulled you in, allowing you space in case you needed it. Jeongin rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs each before he pulled away. It had been a nice kiss, probably one of the nicest kisses you have ever had. And yet, it was nothing compared to what you felt when Minho was around you.

“And?” He licked his lips.

“Nope. You?”

“Nothing.”

You both laughed and he let go of your face. Your heart was beating fast. Whether it was out of guilt or excitement, you could not tell.

“Maybe we’re just a platonic match,” he suggested, “It happens too, but rarely anyone cares about it.”

You smiled at his words, feeling more at ease now, “I would love that, actually.”

The kiss had sparked a more comfortable conversation between the both of you. All previous expectations were thrown out of the window and were replaced with nothing but platonic love from either of you. Plans were made, including both of you talking about moving in together in more detail. It made you feel more at ease with your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, this entire situation was actually benefiting you. 

That night, you fell asleep thinking about platonic soulmates. If what Jeongin said was true, you could be friends with Minho, too, eventually. And the possibility of that future was more than enough for you. 

act eight: lecturing.

The first campus presentation came just a few days after. It was for a local university, so there was no need for you to travel far out. Minho had offered to take you there, but you still felt awkward because of what had happened, which is why you declined it as nicely as you could. The both of you would meet up in the parking lot insead, about half an hour before the lecture started. 

You were wearing a casual outfit like you usually did, since you did not think to dress up for this, but when you spotted Minho, you were scared that you should have. Minho was wearing his usual white shirt with rolled up sleeves and a tie, along with his black slacks and a watch on his left wrist. On top of that, he was wearing his black framed glasses again, which he pushed up with his pointer finger while he was waiting for you. 

He looked insanely handsome, you noted, all while trying to minimise your staring. There was an effortlessly handsomeness about him and it was hard for you to suppress these thoughts. You thought about the kiss you had shared with Jeongin for a brief moment, before your mind wandered back to the man right in front of you. The possibility to explore what Jeongin and you felt for each other had been freeing, in a way. You knew that you had felt a spark between Jeongin and yourself and maybe, what you felt for Minho would translate into the same.  

“Good Evening,” Minho greeted you the second he saw you. His words startled you and ripped you away from your thoughts.

“Hi.”

The both of you had not talked since the day in his office, beside some casualties concerning the lecture today. The air between the both of you was almost tense, although primarily insanely awkward. 

“Do you want to take a picture?” Minho asked out of the blue and you nodded.

“Do you want to give me your phone or is it okay if I take it with mine?”

The corner of Minho’s lips twitched slightly, “Mine.”

He reached into his pocket and handed his phone to you. You still caught a glimpse of his lockscreen, a picture of three cats huddled together. It made you smile.

Minho took a step closer to you, while you took a step back and put his phone over your face.

“On three?” “What are you doing?”

Both of you just stared at each other.

“Do you not want me to take a picture of you?”

Minho’s lips twitched again, “I want to take a picture of us together.”

“Oh.” You turned his phone around and the selfie camera on. Even though both of you were in the frame, you were still standing a few feet apart. 

Minho reached out for you, his fingertips barely grazing your hips.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” His eyes fell onto your lips. You nodded, his light touch already sending tingles down your spine.

Minho hummed and grabbed your waist to pull you into his chest. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact. He pressed his cheek against yours, smirking into the camera as if nothing had happened.

His hands were still on you when you took a few pictures, his soft gaze never leaving your face.

“Is that all?” You asked and Minho nodded.

“Can we add a picture with you kissing me on my cheek?” he suggested, his ears turning pink. “I’ll post them on my socials, just to let people know that you’re with me today.”

Right. You were taking pictures as part of the contract you had made with him.

Gently, you got out of his grasp.

“I think we have enough for now.”

Minho only pressed his lips together and nodded.

Neither of you said anything when you made your way around the campus to get to the lecture hall. Instead, you were biting your lower lip thinking about what was to come. It made you nervous to think about meeting a group of people who you would have to lie to, despite not all of it being untrue.

At that moment, Minho’s hand brushed yours. It was brief and barely noticeable, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“I will do all the talking,” he commented, “You just sit there and look pretty, alright?”

You caught a glimpse of him from the corner of your eyes. Pretty? Instead of interrogating him about what he meant by his words, you just smiled back at him, your heart jumping around wildly in your chest.

The lecture hall was only half as big as you expected it to be. There were only about twenty people in the room, maybe even less, most of them in their late teens and early twenties. Minho greeted the audience in front of him, as did you. He gestured for you to sit down on a chair close to the entrance, before he started preparing his lecture. You did as he asked and tried to ignore everyone’s eyes on you. 

It was not long until Minho began to speak. He explained the basis of the app, the basic structure of their research, and eventually told them everything about matches as they knew it. His speech was more difficult to follow than Jeongin’s introduction, you noted. He had a deadpan expression on his face, the way he usually did, except that his lips twitched slightly whenever the silence went on for too long. Eventually, Minho started talking about why he created the app.

“I started this as an experiment to prove that, yes, everyone is compatible with someone else in some way, shape, or form. This app is designed for individuals who might not believe in finding love on their own accord. Individuals who lost all hope in finding someone who will actually match with them.”

Minho hesitated, before he added, “No one is broken. Not when it comes to science.”

The silence after that sentence made your heart ache. His words sounded so sincere, so hopeful, that you were wondering what the truth behind them was.

Minho avoided your gaze when he looked at your section. Then, he started talking about the different kinds of matches in detail again.

“A titanium match is still rare,” he explained, “given that our data pool is still very small, but it is not impossible. I myself was lucky enough to find my titanium match myself, and I have them with me today.”

Minho pointed towards you. It caught you off guard, in a way, and you felt yourself heat up because of the sudden attention on you. In response, Minho just smirked lightly.

After the lecture was over, several students flocked around your fake boyfriend to ask him questions about the app itself and offered to join it themselves. Minho lit up at the chance to explain everything again in detail, and it made you smile to see him be this ecstatic about something. 

In the haste, you did not notice that one of the students approached you. It was a tall guy with colourful hair in his early twenties. He offered you a polite nod, before he started to ask you about the app as well. His main questions were about what it was like to date your titanium match. The way his eyes lit up almost made you feel bad for being unable to give him a truthful answer.

“It’s like someone has it all written out for me,” is what you decided on, and the guy just smiled widely. 

“I can’t wait to join the research!”

It made your heart drop to your stomach.

Eventually, Minho and you were the last one left in the hall. He appeared to be surprised to see you. Just when you were about to ask him if you were about to leave, he said, “You’re still here?”

“I figured it would be something your partner should do.” You wavered.

Minho pressed his lips together, his excitement from earlier long forgotten. 

“Just go.”

You exhaled and nodded embarrassedly and were out of the room before he could say another word. Minho watched you go and sighed to himself.

“It wouldn’t end well, anyway.”

Although the both of you were supposed to go to the company after the lecture to hand in some of your notes, you arrived at different times. You greeted Jeongin at the door, who just waved at you, completely immersed into his work. On the way to Minho’s office, you met Felix. You had talked to him a few times. Although you were not as close to him as you were to Jeongin, you still enjoyed his company greatly. 

“Hi, how did the first lecture go?” He asked right away and you sighed.

“He’s so irritating,” you responded and Felix laughed, “He can be. But he will warm up to you eventually, I promise.”

You hummed in response, not quite believing in his words, which made Felix laugh again.

“Jeongin keeps saying the same god damn thing.”

The conversation was interrupted when Jeongin and Minho came your way. Both of them were talking to each other. Jeongin already had Minho’s notes in his arms and was waiting to add yours to the mix.

“Hi!” Jeongin greeted you and you visibly relaxed at his presence. You smiled at him and took a step forward.

“Hi, how are you?”

Minho beside Jeongin tensed at your interaction. He glanced between the both of you, before he went up to Felix. Then, he turned around to address you and Jeongin.

“We have some data to discuss,” Minho explained, straightening his back, “So if you don’t mind, I’d kindly ask you to leave. You can give Jeongin your notes. Good Night.”

Your heart fell at his words. Jeongin turned to you and took your notes out of your hands.

“Are you coming over to mine tonight?” He asked you, just before Minho shushed Felix into his office. You nodded in response and Jeongin lit up.

“Great, I already got snacks and everything ready.”

The both of you bid Minho and Felix goodbye before you walked back towards the entrance. When you were gone, Minho pressed his lips together and turned around to go into his office. Felix’ eyes followed him, partly confused and partly worried.

Jisung, who had been waiting inside Minho’s office, noticed his sour mood.

“Are you okay?”

Minho shook his head, “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Are you sure that there’s nothing you want to talk about?”

Jisung looked at Minho and got up. Minho sighed, turning away from his friend.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Hesitantly, Jisung put his hand on Minho’s shoulder. He did not move it away.

“There’s nothing going on between them.”

Minho huffed, “I don’t care.”

“I think you do.”

It had been a few days since you and Jeongin had talked about moving in with each other. Today would be the day you were supposed to help him pack his things, so he could bring some of his belongings over to your apartment already. Additionally, and as promised, Jeongin had bought all of your favourite snacks as a thank you for helping him move. They were neatly stacked on top of his kitchen counter when you came in. 

While you guys were packing all of his things together into boxes, he asked you a few questions about the lecture you had attended today. Minho was the only one who attended them; Felix and Hunyjin only joined him occasionally if they were needed, which is why Jeongin was curious. On top of that, he just really wanted to know how you were holding up, since you seemed a bit off the entire time the both of you had been packing.

“He did a good job,” you admitted and put some of Jeongin’s albums into boxes, “I just think that pretending to date me is kinda hard.”

Jeongin laughed at your words, “I have a hard time believing that you guys have to pretend that much. I saw the pictures you took on campus the other day. Plus, you still got a high match, there’s no way it’s always awkward between you?”

“I mean, Minho’s something, I’ll give you that much.”

Jeongin shook his head, “You’re still not over what you thought he said, hm?”

“I know what I heard,” you huffed, “And I know that he apologised for it. But he was kinda mean to me again today.”

“What happened?”

You put some of his books into the box next, “I was waiting for him after the lecture and he kinda told me to just leave and that I didn’t have to wait.”

Jeongin hummed, “Isn’t that nice of him? Why did you wait for him anyway? I thought you didn’t have to?”

“Well,” you defended yourself, “Shouldn’t his partner have to wait for him until he’s done? Because we’re so in love or whatever?”

Your mind wandered back to the outfit he had been wearing. The strong arms he had been flexing every time he moved. Which he did a lot; Minho liked to highlight his sentences with different gestures, which sent sparks straight down your spine. He even did it while he was talking one on one to the students who had been asking him questions, which was one of the reasons why you had stayed behind. Minho was simply so distracting, you could not help yourself.

“Of course,” Jeongin replied, “I’m sure there was no other reason.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, “He’s still kind of an ass.”

“He’s not. He’s just hurt. I’m sure he likes you a lot.”

“The way little boys tease the kids they got a crush on?”

Jeongin paused, “The way someone with a broken heart tries to not get hurt again.”

It was quiet after that. You did not say another word, and neither did Jeongin. You packed the remaining things for today, before Jeongin asked if you wanted to take a break. You nodded and waited for him to order your dinner. When everything was said and done, and the both of you were sitting on his couch together, you decided to continue the conversation from earlier again.

“What did you mean when you said he was hurt?” You asked quietly, but Jeongin only shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s my place to tell you. Just wait until he does, okay? Just trust me when I say that you guys would go along greatly if you gave it a chance.”

act nine: lying.

The second campus tour you were supposed to be attending was about a week later. You were given the same instructions as last time, only today, you and Minho would drive up to the campus together. It was another lecture this time at a place not too far away, but still far enough that driving there together would make it easier for both of you. At least when it came to transportation; the social aspect was more than draining for both of you.

Minho had offered to pick you up at your home, which you hesitantly accepted. When you got into the car, he greeted you with a nod. He was standing beside the passenger seat and wearing the same outfit as last time, you noted. Minho opened the door for you and closed it behind you when you sat down. Then, he walked around the car to get to his seat and started talking.

“This is for you.” Minho handed you a paper bag, before he turned the car on. Curious, you looked inside and were greeted with the same order you always got at the cafe the both of you went to. It was your favourite drink of theirs and your favourite pastry Kai always made for you.

You looked at it, your lips slightly ajar. “Oh.”

When you glanced at Minho out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed a shy smile on his face. His ears were a light shade of pink and he nervously tipped his fingers on the steering wheel. Then, the corners of his lips twitched.

“Thank you,” you said, and your hand reached towards your wallet. Minho gripped the wheel a little bit tighter.

“It’s fine,” he said, almost smirking when he repeated your own words right back at you. “It’s my treat.”

You looked down and smiled, thanking him again. Then, your smile fell.

“Do you want me to post a picture of it for Instagram?”

Minho furrowed his eyebrows, “I mean, if you want to?”

“Is that not why you got it for me?”

The corners of Minho’s lips twitched again.

Then, he said quietly, “I guess I did.”

You gulped and nodded, taking your phone out to take a picture. You posted it to your story and only added a simple red heart and tagged Minho, before putting it back into your pocket.

Not a lot of words were exchanged on your way to the campus. Silently, you ate the pastry and drank your beverage. Minho did not say anything either, so the both of you drove in almost comfortable silence while sharing longing glances.

The campus was only a few more minutes away, when Minho suddenly spoke up again. His grip around the steering wheel tightened again and you noticed his lips twitch ever so lightly.

“I don’t mind that you’re dating while we’re promoting this project,” he started, not noticing your puzzled expression, “Just please try to keep it under the wraps, at least until we’re laying low again.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” you said and Minho bit his lips, “I’m taking this seriously.”

Minho hummed, failing to ignore the green monster inside his chest, “It’s really okay. You don’t need to play it up, I don’t care.”

“Why do you keep doing this?” The words were out before you could stop yourself. Minho glanced over at you.

“Do what?”

Frustratedly, you put your hands up, and said, “All of this. I signed the contract too, I know what we’re doing. I’m not dating anyone and I don’t even want to.”

“Oh.”

A sign on the street indicated that you almost reached the campus.

“Then please don’t flirt with anyone while we’re dating, especially not with one of my employees.”

You shook your head and looked out of the window. “We’re not even really dating.” 

Against your better judgement, you listened to the evil little voice inside your head that tried to convince you that Minho was insulting you again. It made your heart break, little by little.

Did he assume you were throwing yourself at Jeongin because you were not good enough for the scientists working in the building? Did he think you were not attractive for anyone else?

“Whatever,” Minho interrupted your thoughts and sighed and turned the car around to park, “I’m sorry I overstepped. Your private life is none of my business.”

He got out first and opened your door for you again. You looked up at him and for a brief moment, the both of you locked eyes.

His eyes were beautiful. They were a deep, dark brown, almost back. His long eyelashes gently touched his cheekbones whenever he blinked and was that makeup he was wearing? It was some eyeliner and light eyeshadow and it made him look angelic. Minho leaned a bit closer towards you and your breath hitched, the butterflies in your stomach dancing around.. 

“I forgot my wallet,” he mumbled and leaned even closer. His shoulder brushed yours when he grabbed his wallet from the console between both of your seats. He smelled like vanilla, you noticed. One of his hands grabbed the back of your seat and before he leaned back, his shoulder brushed yours again. It made your heart jump around inside your chest even more and you tried your best to level your breathing.

“Shall we go?” Minho stood up straight. The corners of his lips curled up, while you were still processing how close the both of you just had been. “Yeah.”

The lecture went smoother this time around. Minho read the same script as last time, but he actually glanced into your direction while he was speaking. After he finished his initial lecture, you packed all of your things and already went outside. You did not want to repeat what happened last time and opted to wait at his car instead.

When Minho noticed your absence, he ended his Q&A session earlier this time around. He went back to his car almost right away and opened the doors for you.

“You should have said something,” he commented, taking your bag out of your hands to put them into the trunk, “I would’ve given you my keys.”

You shook your head, “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“You would never interrupt me.”

His words and his cologne were still clouding your head when you went back to work the next day. You were meeting up with Changbin and Chan for your lunch break again, when the teasing started.

“So, what’s it like to date the CEO?” Changbin asked you again, the same way he did almost every single day ever since Minho had unofficially asked you out in front of them.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s complicated.”

“Uhhh,” Chan giggled and you hit his arm in return. “Leave me alone!”

“We’re just teasing,” Chan excused himself and added with a softer smile, “We’re just happy that everything’s working out for you. We know how stressed you’ve been. If anyone deserves a nice roommate and a rich boyfriend, it’s you.”

Guilt crawled its way back into your chest. You still had not told your closest friends about the fake relationship. They still thought that the both of you were in love, and even went so far to tease Minho himself whenever he was around. 

The bell at the entrance rang and interrupted your thoughts. It was Minho. He had his usual suit without his glasses on. He looked the same way as the first time you saw him, you thought. The frown on his face was still present when he opened the door, but softened the second he laid his eyes on you. It made your heart jump in your chest.

“Hi,” he greeted you and your friends, before he went to the counter to give Soobin his order. 

Your friends chuckled. “Speaking of the devil.”

They were facing the counter and watched Minho give up his order. Since you sat with your back to him, you tried to coax your friends into talking about something else, but to no avail. They kept giggling like little school girls every time Minho allegedly pepped into your direction, which seemed to be every other second, if their cheeky grins were anything to go by.

Before Minho was able to leave, Changbin called him over to your table. “Do you have a minute?”

Minho looked at you, while you nodded slightly, before he decided to say yes. He sat down beside you, and put his coffees on the table in front of him.

Confused, you looked over at Changbin, who pressed his lips together.

“What’s your deal?” He deadpanned. Minho glanced at you from the corner of his eye, “Uh?”

Changbin leaned closer. He put his elbows on top of the table and flexed his arms. Minho, who objectively spent less time at the gym, pretended that it did not intimidate him as much as it did. You, however, noticed the way the corners of his lips twitched; a sign that he was nervous. It was something you had picked up on during his lectures and you immediately told Changbin to cut him some slack. The bigger man just glared at Minho again, before he exploded in a laugh.

“Just testing the waters,” Changbin said and Chan beside him groaned, “How old are you? I’m so sorry for him. I’m Chan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Minho’s lips twitched again, but this time his eyes crinkled barely noticeable in unisono.

“Not too old to make sure my friend isn’t dating a douchebag,” Changbin argued back and you smiled. “And I thank you for that, my knight in shining armour.”

 “At your service,” he saluted, “but I do want to know more about the guy who managed to date you out of all people.”

“It was very easy,” Minho said with a smirk and you coughed. 

“I don’t want to hear all of this,” you stood up, “and I need to go to the bathroom, anyway. Just don’t be too hard on him, okay?”

It was not that you wanted to leave Minho behind. On the contrary, you wanted him to leave instead. You hated lying to your friends; you hated keeping a secret as big as this one from them. You wanted to do nothing more than tell them about this contract, tell them about how annoying Minho could be. You just wanted to tell them that, despite everything, you still somewhat caught feelings for the man who dated you to promote his own company. What started as a way to make some easy money was biting you in the ass now, hard. And you did not know what to do anymore.

While your thoughts consumed you in the bathroom, your friends interrogated Minho more seriously this time around. While you were away and they had a moment with Minho by themselves without you closeby, they asked him about his first impression he had, what he thought of you, where he saw this relationship going, and the reason why he was dating you. Changbin and Chan were worried about you, which Minho admired greatly. It made his heart full, knowing that you had people like them around who truly cared about you.

“I like them,” he answered truthfully, hoping that you would take your sweet time in the bathroom. He knew that you disappeared because you felt uncomfortable. In moments like this, he wondered if the contract was really worth it and ever so often, the little voice in his head told him off. As much as he wanted to be selfish and have you to himself, he knew that this contract just ruined the both of you. Yet, he did not know how to tell you how he really felt, which is why he settled on telling your friends instead. They would know that it was the truth, he thought, they would not believe that it was a lie; not the way you probably did. 

“I’ve always liked them,” he added carefully, “The way they smile, the way they laugh, the way they scrunch their eyebrows every time I talk about work. I like the way they try to understand what I’m talking about, even when it’s way too specific. The data I’m working with, I mean, the data that brought us together.”

Minho noticed that he was rambling and apologised quickly, but Chan just smiled at him.

“It’s nice to see you be so in love,” he chuckled, “I remember when we saw you coming in day after day with that serious face. I’m sorry if I’m crossing any boundaries when I’m saying this, but I’m genuinely happy to see you guys together. Especially since Y/N wouldn’t stop pining over you. Not to call them out on this, but they’ve been doing it pretty much since you started coming here.”

“Ah,” Minho said, blushing furiously now. “I guess we have something in common, then. Before the actual results were out, I actually checked to see if our DNA matched all by myself. When we got the titanium match, I thought it was just my wishful thinking, but then Felix and Hyunjin confirmed it and I just.”

You heard the smile in Minho’s voice when you made your way back to the table. It made you stop in your tracks, and you felt your heart beat inside your whole body.

“I just like the way they ground me. I know that I can be a lot sometimes, but having them around really helps me loosen up a little, even though they might not know it. I like the way they make me feel. I just like having them around. I can’t tell you what they want out of this relationship, because,” Minho chucked humorlessly, “I don’t know where this will go. I just know that I want to stay by their side if they let me. I will stay by their side for as long as they want me to.”

Your heart stopped at his words. You locked eyes with Chan, who started smiling softly. From behind, you saw Minho’s beet red ears peeking out of his dark hair and you could not help but smile too when you saw it.

You went back to the table as if nothing had happened. When you sat down beside Minho, your shoulder brushed his and you saw the faint pink on his cheeks.

“I need to go now,” he said suddenly, standing up. Minho nodded at your friends.

“It was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Changbin hummed and patted his back lightly, “Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

Minho smiled with his eyes closed, “I’ll try.”

Then, he turned back to you.

“See you later?” he asked shily, and you nodded, “Yeah.”

Minho smiled and leaned down towards you. Next, he pressed his lips against your temple. It was a soft kiss, barely noticeable on your skin, but it sent fire through your entire body. You felt yourself heat up, like you did every so often whenever he was around. His hand grazed yours and his eyelids dropped, his attention entirely on you.

Suddenly, it stopped. Minho’s face went back to normal, the only thing hinting at his real feelings was the twitch in his lips and the red adorning his ears. Then, he left. Your eyes followed him in a longing gaze.

“You guys are so cute it makes me ill.”

“Huh?” You blinked a few times, noticing that your eyes were still set on where Minho had been sitting.

Changbin gagged in response and Chan rolled his eyes.

“I think he’s a good guy.”

You breathed out quietly, your mind wandering back to the lecture you had visited just yesterday.

“I guess so.”

Even though your contract and the money involved had helped you out immensely, you were still tied to your old job. The layoffs had been going smoothly, at least as smoothly as firing people could go. It probably would have been harder on you if it were not for your confusing feelings for Minho keeping your mind busy. That was, until your boss finished his last meeting concerning the layoffs. His next one would be with you, and it was set for today already.

The money you had saved was enough to keep your head over water, at least for a few months. Your new living situation had also relieved some of the stress you were feeling, which is why you were almost relaxed when you walked into your boss’ office. Almost.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you,” your boss greeted you and told you to sit down. You did as he asked and waited for him to continue.

“I know that the last few weeks have been hard on all of us,” he started and you already saw your career flash in front of your eyes. Instead of saying anything out loud, you adapted a neutral face and nodded; the same way you saw Minho doing it countless times before.

Your boss cleared his throat before he continued, “I just wanted to let you know that you were doing a fantastic job. I heard that you’re currently taking a second job at STAYwm?”

Oh. Your heart started beating a bit faster at his words and your neutral demeanour almost cracked.

“I am,” you answered truthfully, “I hope that’s not a problem?”

Insecurity made its way into your voice, and your boss seemed to notice. He sighed, “It actually does.”

Your heart dropped.

“You’re doing such a great job. If I’m being honest, I’m actually kinda scared you might want to leave us in the near future.” He laughed and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Leaving? Is this another -”

“It isn’t,” he shook his head hastily, “I actually wanted to offer you a promotion. You know, just a little motivation to keep your job here. I’m saying this off the record, but everything has improved since you started working here. That’s why I wanted to offer you more money instead of having you work two jobs and possibly neglecting the great work you’ve been doing here.”

Truthfully, a promotion had been the last thing on your mind. Between being worried about a layoff and someone finding out that you were not actually dating Minho, you never thought that this would lead to a promotion at your main job.

You blinked a few times, before you simply answered, “Thank you.”

Your boss smiled, “Would you mind getting both of us coffee so we can discuss this further?”

You nodded and got up.

“Of course, I’ll be right back.”

He hummed in response, “And you’ll stay here, right?”

“To be honest, I don’t see myself working at STAYwm in the long run, anyway.”

And with that, you left.

A weight lifted itself off your chest the second you felt the fresh air on your skin when you stepped outside the building. You could not believe your luck. You had more money saved up than you could hope for; you had a roommate who was the sweetest guy you had ever met; you got a promotion at the job you loved; you got friends who loved and supported you   every step of the way; and you got the best boyfriend -

You stopped yourself. You were on such a high still that you forgot about that silly little detail in your life. This contract would ruin you, you thought, and you felt as if it had already done so. You knew that Minho did not mean what he said to your friends, so why did you so desperately wish that it was real? That he wanted you and to be with you, the same way you wanted him.

You sighed and started walking towards the cafe to get both cups of coffee, as promised, hoping that you would not meet Minho. Which was a first, if you were really thinking about it.

act ten: interviewing.

Another week came and with that, another obligation from your fake dating contract. Unlike the last times during your campus tours when Minho did all the talking, you were supposed to give some input too this time. You were supposed to give an interview to a local radio station. The host, Gunil, was someone Jisung knew and who was ready to give the app a platform to spread the word about it.

As always, Minho did most of the talking, the same way he did during the lectures. It eased your nerves to have him take the lead and to sit so close to him. Your arms were brushing each other and you kept looking at him, ever so mesmerised to see him talk about what he loved. You almost felt comfortable and at peace, and while Minho spoke, you wish you could stay in this moment forever.

Minho explained the app again and you were zoning out, just admiring the way he looked. He did not do his hair this morning, you noticed, as it was still tousled. Minho was wearing his work glasses and no makeup and if you did not know any better, you would have cooed at him. Maybe you would use your relationship as an excuse, you thought when you saw him pout at something the interviewer had said. On top of that, Minho was wearing comfortable clothes; or at least what he would consider to be comfortable. His body was adorning a white shirt with his black slacks again. He had rolled up his arms again earlier, all while studying your reaction. When he saw you ogle at him, he just smirked to himself.

“But enough about the technicalities. I’m sure our listeners would love to hear more about your relationship. What was it like to find out that there was a person, that person, out there for you?” Gunil interrupted your thoughts.

Minho cleared his throat and checked your reaction. He knew that you did not like to outright talk about this, and neither did he, but he intertwined your hand with his under the table to let you know that he would take the lead again. 

“We were already aware of each other before,” he said, his eyes falling onto your frame for a split second. “They would always sit at the same table with their friends in this cafe we both frequently visit. I started going there for the chocolate cake, but it became my favourite place when I noticed Y/N sitting at the tables. Funnily enough, we were always there at the same time. We still are, but now we just go together whenever we can.”

Gunil gasped, “What are the odds?”

Your eyes wandered up to Minho’s frame again. He squeezed your hand when he noticed and you looked away again, embarrassed. Did he really notice you even before Jisung started talking to you and your friends?

“They would always order the exact same drink in the exact same way they still do, with the same pastry. It’s endearing, honestly,” Minho added when he noticed how flustered you became, your heart beating rapidly.

“The way they would always smile and joke around with their friends, who are also very sweet people, may I add. I guess it would’ve been harder not to notice Y/N, because their smile always lights up the room they’re in, even when they don’t even notice it themselves.”

You gawked at him and Gunil laughed, “I think he hasn’t told you this yet?”

“No, I wasn’t aware of it,” you mumbled and scrunched your nose when Gunil just laughed again.

“You could say that the universe knew what it was doing, hm?”

Minho huffed, clearly disagreeing. Yet, he said, “I was smitten the second I laid my eyes on them, if we’re being honest.”

He did not let go of your hand when he put his arm up to put it around your shoulder. Before he did, he looked at your face, analysing your reaction. You just nodded and then, he pulled you into his chest carefully. He smelled like vanilla again, you noted, clean and sweet. It took everything in you to not lean closer into his chest and breathe his scent in. You could not allow yourself to lose your posture. Not here, not now. This was still a professional, but why did it feel so good?

“You were?” you asked, laying your heart out on the table, desperately hoping that what Minho said was true. He just smiled at you and put his other hand closer towards your face. Gently, he ran the tips of his fingers over your cheek, leaving a trail of heat behind. 

His voice grew soft when he replied, “I was.”

You looked into each other’s eyes and said nothing, only embracing each other’s closeness.

Then, Gunil cooed and ripped both of you out of your haze. Your face was entirely heating up now and Minho blushed, too. You jerked apart and Gunil laughed while Minho apologised for being unprofessional.

“Hey, we’re here for love. Jisung already told me that I would be third wheeling with the both of you.”

The interview was soon over. Minho thanked Gunil for allowing you to be on air and in return, Gunil thanked you for being genuine. The listeners loved this segment, he explained, showing you the different reactions your interview had already received online. It was weird to see people yearn for a love that was still so fragile and, in a way, not even real.

act eleven: confessing.

When you told Jeongin about the promotion he was ecstatic. At this point, he already knew about all of your struggles. He knew about the possible layoff you had been facing and why you had accepted to date Minho contractually in the first place. This is why he asked you, during one of your many film nights, if you were ready to find a way out of the contract now. You had just laughed and told him that you were still obligated to finish this, one way or another. What you did not tell him was that you were scared of what was to come, not wanting to end what you had just yet. You did not want to confess to him or yourself that there was something so much more you felt for Minho than you wanted to let on. And how much it scared you.

This is why you kept going to presentations with Minho and soon enough, there was only one left. One presentation and one advertisement video for their social media, and then you were allowed to part ways again. Funnily enough, the thought of it made you want to do all of this over again, just so you would not lose Minho. Even if it was not even real.

The last presentation would be on a campus a bit further away. The necessary arrangements were already met and the only thing that was missing was you actually arriving there on time. The both of you decided to, once again, take the drive up there together. 

The mood between the both of you was tense. Not only did the moment you had during the interview cross your mind over and over again, you were also painfully reminded of your last drive together and the time Minho snapped at you. Even though he had apologised for it, you still did not want to risk it happening again, which is why you mutually decided on staying silent. The only thing that could be heard was the music softly playing in the background. It was nice, in a way, almost content and comfortable. Either of you would only speak if it was needed, all while trying to take a glimpse of each other.

You arrived at the motel when it was already night time. The plan was to spend the night there to be well rested for the morning lecture. It was a small one just right outside the city. Jeongin had booked it for the both of you and promised that it was the ideal room for you. What he did not mention, however, is that his idea of ideal and yours differed  greatly.

Minho opened the door to your motel room and you sighed the second you stepped inside. 

“There’s only one bed,” Minho said, “I thought it was a room for two people?”

The bed in front of you was not small per se. It was a twin sized bed and should be sufficient, at least for one night.

“I’ll go ask if there’s another room available,” Minho declared, even before you were able to say something yourself. He was out of the room and you sighed, sitting down on the bed in front of you. 

There was no way you would survive sleeping in one bed with Minho, you thought, and internally cursed Jeongin for booking this room. You knew that he had done this on purpose. He had noticed that you had warmed up to Minho after all, just like Jeongin said you would. Your rants about his quirks had turned into you accommodating them. The more time you had spent with Minho, the more alike the both of you had become. Though, you did not want to accept it, you grew accustomed to having him around. You grew to love it, despite the awkwardness of it all. Maybe that is why your heart sank a little in your chest when he suggested to split rooms the second he noticed that there was only one bed.

A few minutes later, Minho came back. He looked a bit pale when he informed you that all rooms were, coincidentally, booked. 

“We can’t split up,” he said and exhaled shakily, “I’ll just sleep on the floor instead.”

“Don’t,” you shook your head, your heart falling at the thought of him not wanting to be near you, “You’re the one who has to stand all day tomorrow, I’m gonna be fine. Let me sleep on the floor.”

The corners of his lips twitched, “It’s not gonna be all day. Plus, you’re only here because of me anyway. You won’t get me into that bed.”

After a while, you just agreed with him. He seemed irritated, even more than you were, which is why you decided to leave it at that. It was not worth arguing over this, not when you still had the whole day together ahead of you tomorrow

Since it was already late, the both of you got ready for bed. Minho first, then you. In a cruel way, it was almost domestic. It let your mind wander to the possibility that, in another universe, the both of you were brushing your teeth together instead of minutes apart. It was a silly thought and yet enough to make you smile to yourself.

When you were washed up, you went to bed. Minho had already made himself a somewhat comfortable bed right beside yours. He was still sitting up and working on his laptop, but paused when he noticed you come back in.

“You can turn the lights off,” he said, repressing a yawn. You nodded and did as he asked. After, you laid down in bed and faced the side where he was lying on. You saw him from your spot on the bed. The moonlight was shining through the window and cast shadows on his face. He had his front turned to you, but his eyes were almost closed. Neither of you spoke and you just looked at his face and studied his expressions.

He was beautiful, you thought. You already knew that he was handsome but in the moonlight, he just looked divine. His eyelashes were casting shadows on his cheeks and the frown that was usually on his face was completely gone. It was replaced with a relaxed face and almost a smile. You kept glancing at him until you fell asleep and, unbeknownst to you, he did the same.

When you woke up again, it was still dark. You blinked a few times, before your eyes immediately fell on Minho again. His sweet face, that had been so calm just hours before, was completely strained. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was groaning, almost as if he was in pain.

“Hey,” you mumbled and got up. You sat down on the floor beside him.

“Wake up.”

You touched his shoulder and shook it gently. Minho himself was shaking slightly. With a gasp, his eyes opened.

He frantically looked around, until his eyes landed on you. His arms were around your neck before you realised what was happening. Minho pulled you into his chest without thinking. He was still sitting on the floor, and so were you with your face pressed against his neck. 

Carefully, you put your hands on his back and rubbed it slightly. A few minutes passed, and neither of you dared to move. You waited until Minho’s breath levelled again before you spoke.

“Are you alright?”

Minho shook his head, but allowed you to pull away. And you did, but only to look at him while you cradled his face in your hands. He looked so broken. It was the complete opposite of what he looked like just earlier.

“I’m here for you, okay? You’re safe.”

You did not know what he had dreamt about and you did not need to. All you wanted was to be there for him, to keep him safe and sound until he stopped crying. You pulled him closer until the roles were reserved and pressed him into your chest this time. Then, you ran your fingers through his hair to calm him down.

Minho was still breathing hard when he whispered, “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” you said, pressing the lightest kiss on his temple, “I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

Your words and your kiss calmed Minho down, eventually. Not many more words were said and soon enough, you fell asleep again; only in each other’s arms this time.

When you woke up in bed the next day, Minho was already up and back to his rather tense demeanour. He only nodded at you when he noticed you were awake, and told you that he wanted to leave soon. Both of you were thinking about the night before, but neither of you wanted to bring it up. You did not want to do it to give him the space he needed to tell you first. Minho, on the other hand, was just scared. Allowing you in would mean allowing you the possibility to hurt him the same way he has been hurt before. It was something he had hinted at, long before his feelings for you ever became as serious as they were now. Your kiss and your gentle gestures the past night had sparked something inside of him that scared him; it scared him even more than the casual crush he had formed on you. It was because he started to realise that it was much more serious than he ever thought it would be. 

The silence was deafening when you made your way to the lecture. It was tense and gruesome and you were just irritated. The way he refused to acknowledge anything made you want to scream and shout at him, but you did not. Instead, you joined him in the lecture and smiled politely every time he mentioned you. He talked about the same things he had talked about countless of times again. Only this time, he added something off script.

Minho talked about the reason why he had invented the app, and he said, “This is designed for individuals who might not believe in finding love on their own accord. Individuals who lost all hope in finding someone who will actually match with them.”

Then, he took a deep breath, “I never thought that I would be able to fall in love again, but I did. Not until this project led me to Y/N.”

His words were sincere, you could see it in his eyes. You saw his lips twitch, the same gesture he repeated whenever he was nervous. His eyes locked with yours and in that moment, you knew. You knew that your feelings were truly not one sided anymore, if they ever had been.

After class, people approached Minho again, the same way someone approached you again, too. It was the same question someone had asked you weeks ago when you visited your first lecture with Minho. They wanted to know what it was like to meet and fall in love with your Titanium match.

“It’s as easy as breathing,” you answered this time.

The air had shifted when you made your way back to the car. Minho was nervous and so were you, but it was good this time around. Minho opened the door for you again, before he went over to the driver’s seat.

“Do you want to talk?” You asked carefully the second he sat down. 

Minho bit his lower lip and nodded nervously.

“I tend to have nightmares,” he admitted, “And they’re all about losing you.”

“Minho…”

He shook his head, “Let me explain, please. I had bad relationships in the past. It’s the real reason I created the app. I got cheated on by someone I thought I would marry, but they just left. They were with someone else night after night, while I was sitting at home, waiting for them. They told me, eventually, but argued that it was because we didn’t match, that we weren’t a good fit. It honestly broke me.”

He laughed drily, “And it drove me kinda insane. I wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t get hurt again and neither would others. I just wanted to find a way to make sure it wouldn’t happen again; neither for me nor anyone else. That’s why I created the app. I was tired of being lonely and tired of being used. I just wanted to know that there was someone out there for me who would match with me. In one way or another.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You hesitated and took your hand into his. He intertwined your fingers and squeezed your hand gently.

“I’m very glad you created the app,” you confessed.

Minho looked sad when he asked, “Because it led you to Jeongin?”

“Because it led me to you.”

Minho turned around.

“I’m sorry for asking you this. You don’t need to answer this, I just need to know if I… I just want to know if you’re really not dating him.”

You chuckled and squeezed his hand this time.

“I’m not, we’re really only friends. The app told us that, too.”

Minho let out a laugh of relief.

“Sorry, I just -”

“I think we should give it a try,” you said at the same time. Minho’s grip around your hand tightened.

“Give it a try?”

You nodded and Minho’s face fell, “I definitely believe that you can find platonic soulmates on the app, too.”

The insecurities were getting to the both of you again, but neither of you knew how to combat them. 

“I know,” Minho said slowly, “I found Jisung. He’s my platonic silver match.”

Outside, it started to rain. The car was still out.

“Do you think we are one too?”

You took a deep breath, before you shook your head, “No.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t want us to be platonic. I want this to be real. I want this to be real so bad.”

Minho stared at you, his lips slightly ajar. Then, he let go of your hand and opened the door. It was still raining when he went to your side of the car and ripped your side of the car open.

“Get out.”

You did as he asked, the way you always did, and he immediately pulled you into him. Your hands were back in his, and you were standing chest on chest, both of your hearts beating in unisono. Then, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in. He leaned into you until the tips of your noses touched each other.

“My favourite colour is blue,” he whispered.

“What?”

“My favourite colour,” his breath mingled with yours, “You told me that you wanted to know my favourite colour so people would know that we’re actually dating.”

You smiled weakly, “Minho…”

“Can I kiss you?” he interrupted you needily and you just nodded. “Please.”

And he did. 

The kiss was gentle. His lips grazed yours softly, as if he was afraid he might break you. His hands wandered up to your cheeks to cradle them, the same way you had cradled him the night before. He treated you with the utmost care as if you were the most precious thing in this universe. And to him, you were.

“I like you,” he whispered when he leaned back, his lips on yours again immediately to kiss the raindrops away, one by one.

“I liked you when I first saw you and I liked you even more when I found out that you were the one for me,” he confessed, “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t. You’re literally everything I want. Please, let me be yours?”

Minho was breathing heavily. The hands you placed on his chest were now intertwined behind his neck. 

You pulled him closer to your face when you said, “I’m yours. I always have been.”

Minho laughed and nuzzled his nose against yours.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded, just as breathless as he was, “Please do.”

And he did.

BONUS: advertising

Had it not been for Jisung, you would have never had the guts to approach Minho in the first place and vice versa. At least that was what you were telling yourself when he woke you up at six in the morning on a Saturday. 

“Are you at home?” He greeted you happily and you groaned.

“What do you want?”

Jisung hummed, “We’re filming the ad today. Are you not coming?”

You turned over in your bed. Minho was still fast asleep beside you when you turned your body back to face him.

  “Right now?”

“Yeah. Minho’s not here yet, I’ll call him next.”

You snorted and glanced at the man lying beside you. Minho did not wear any shirts when he was asleep, which you noticed early on. Him wearing it when you went on your last campus tour was nothing but him being too shy to show himself naked in front of you. This shyness disappeared almost immediately after you had confessed your feelings to each other. 

“I’ll be on the way. See you later,” You said and hung up. Beside you, Minho groaned.

“What did that idiot want?” He mumbled in his raspy morning voice and slid closer towards you. His arm was around your waist to pull you closer into his chest. It made your heart beat faster and you smiled into his neck, your own arms around his shoulders.

“He said we need to film something today,” You replied, leaving a soft kiss on his skin.

Minho hummed, “Do we have to go?”

You laughed and sat up as best as you could. You were still on your side, your body weight being held up by your right arm. “What happened to “Do it for the company”?”

“The company doesn’t have you.”

Slowly, Minho’s grip around your waist tightened and he shuffled closer into your chest, his lips resting against your skin. “Besides, Jisung wanted to invite someone else to the shoot. They can do it.”

Your ears perked up as his statement.

“Someone else? Who is it?”

“Felix and his boyfriend.”

You gasped, startling Minho in the process.

“He’s filming the ad with Changbin?”

An hour later, both of you arrived at the company. Minho had asked you to get in first and he would follow behind, claiming that he did not want Jisung to see the both of you arriving at the same time.

“Why not?” You asked, trying to dismiss the sinking feeling inside your chest. Minho cooed and put his hand on your cheek.

“I just can’t stand it when he tells me “I told you so.””

Your chest felt lighter and you snorted, leaning into his palm. 

“Why would he tell you that?”

Minho blushed and the corners of his lips twitched. It was a sign that he was nervous, and one that you liked so dearly about him. 

“He’s been telling me to talk to you for ages now. He had been trying to get me to confess to you for forever, too, but I refused to do it because I thought you didn’t like me back.”

You hummed and kissed the tip of his thumb. “To be fair, I thought you couldn’t stand me up until a few weeks ago.”

Your answer caused Minho’s lips to fall ajar. 

“What?”

You snorted. “Have you ever seen your resting face?”

“What’s wrong with my face?” He asked defensively and furrowed his eyebrows. Cute.

“Nothing,” you mused, easing his frown with your thumb. “You just kinda look like a bitch when you rest your face. No offence.”

Minho huffed, “I am your bitch.”

You laughed, “Yes, you are. Now let’s go before Jisung finds us in the car. I think you’d have other things to worry about than him teasing you about your partner.”

Inside, the other couples were already dressed up and ready to go. Jisung greeted you at the door and pulled you into a separate room. 

“You need to change. We already have clothes for you here, just come out when you’re done.”

The clothes were, albeit being picked by Jisung, not much different to what you would usually wear. It made you feel comfortable in your skin when you went back inside the room. When Minho’s eyes fell onto your frame, you smiled. It made your heart beat faster and the butterflies flip in your stomach.

“You look great,” He whispered and you smiled.

“Thank you.”

Soon enough, you noticed Jisung’s eyes on you, too. When Minho turned around to look at him, Jisung squinted at him. Minho looked away the same second, just to have you stolen out of his arms for the second time this morning.

“Y/N!” Felix called out for you and you hummed. Changbin was right behind him, their hands intertwined together. When they both stopped beside you, you look at Changbin.

Slowly, you took a step closer and watched his smile fall. Then, you hit his shoulder.

“You bastard,” you whispered, watching Changbin yelp, “Why didn’t you tell me that you had a silver match?”

Changbin rubbed his arms while Felix giggled at your antics.

“The same way you didn’t tell us about your titanium match,” Changbin groaned and put his tongue out at you for a brief second.

“Besides, you’re an asshole for lying to me first.”

Changbin glared at Minho, who glared right back at him. You sighed, “I’ll explain everything later, okay?”

Changbin put his chest out, flexing his arms in the process. You pressed your lips together and watched Felix giggle at his antics.

“Leave them alone,” he said, putting one of his hands on Changbin’s biceps. “They never even pretended in the first place.”

Just when you wanted to protest at his words, Jisung clapped his hands together. He and Seungmin were standing side by side in front of a big screen on one side of the room. 

“Thank you all for being here,” Jisung started, “We’re all happy that you’re here.”

No one reacted to what he just said, but he ignored it flawlessly, instead, he started explaining what he wanted to film today. He talked about wanting to film short interviews, only having everyone say one or two sentences about their relationship and how happy they are to have signed up with the app. Your eyes fell onto Minho, who smiled slightly at Jisung’s actions. It was sweet, the love he had for his platonic soulmate.

You stepped closer towards him until your arms brushed each other. Gently, Minho took your hand into his and squeezed it lightly. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked you and you hummed.

“Wouldn’t it be against my contract if I didn’t?”

He snorted, pulling you closer into him.

“Pretty sure that was annulled the second we started to date for real.”

Why you had to get up this early in the morning was still a mystery to you. Jisung had decided to let the boss be the last one, meaning you had to watch at least ten couples film their own advertisement videos before you were able to. 

It was sweet in a way, to watch all of these people talk about their experiences with the app and how they go to meet their matches. Especially Changbin’s and Felix’ story interested you, since neither of them had  gone public with their relationship before this moment.

“They’re cute,” Minho whispered as he watched them talk about how they met. It had been through the app, as had almost everyone else in the room. Changbin had been going on base match dates, before he decided to meet some high percentage ones, too.

“I saw how happy it made my friend and I wanted to give it a try, too,” He explained, glancing over at you. You smiled bashfully and looked down, ignoring Minho’s teasing grin. 

When it was your turn, Jisung pushed you towards the big screen. 

“I need you guys to look like you like each other,” He said, pushing you closer together. Minho put a hand on your shoulder awkwardly and Jisung groaned.

“No, put it somewhere else.”

Minho stared at him and put his arms down beside his body. Jisung groaned again and pulled Seungmin over.

“Like that,” he explained, wrapping his arms around a startled Seungmin. You tried to suppress a snort, more or less successfully.

Seungmin put his hands over Jisung’s and hummed. “Bold words from someone who doesn’t even get laid.”

Jisung pressed Seungmin closer into his body, making the younger one yelp.

“I think I’m doing fine for myself, thank you.”

“If you consider watching anime fine, sure,” Seungmin gasped and tried to get out of Jisung’s grasp. The latter just pinched his stomach before he let go, making Seungmin yelp out loud again.

“You’ll never know the highs and lows of watching some guys play volleyball against each other,” Jisung said, before his attention went back to you and Minho.

“Now? Can you hurry up?”

Minho rolled his eyes at his snappy words and wrapped his arms around your waist. You felt yourself heat up at his sudden action and your heart was beating rapidly inside your chest due to the closeness of your bodies.

Jisung was back behind the camera. “Just be natural, I guess. Tell us what you think about each other and that you’re a Titanium match and happy with all that. Even if it’s not, just lie.”

Minho snorted, his arms still securely around your waist. 

“And action!”

Like during your last interview, Minho was the one who took the lead. He started talking about having a crush on you even before you had signed up for the app, and that the match gave both of you the opportunity to talk to each other.

“It just felt nice to know that my crush was backed up by scientific evidence provided by our own team,” Minho closed his explanation and you smiled cheekily.

“You mean it felt nice to know that your crush was reciprocated?”

Minho rolled his eyes, his attention now fully on you. He was blushing again, you noted, and it made your own heart beat faster. He put one hand up to your face and stroked your cheek. 

Jisung cooed. “That’s exactly what we need. You guys are so good at pretending, I knew the contract was a good idea.”

Minho glanced over at Jisung, before his eyes fell back onto your frame. Then, he himself smiled cheekily.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered and you nodded, wondering what he was talking about. Minho licked his lips and swiftly turned you around in his arms. The both of you were standing chest on chest now, completely blending out everyone else in the room. Minho put his hands on your cheeks again and asked quietly,  “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded. Minho’s kiss, despite having shared so many over the past few days, still sent a tingle down your spine. Your heart kept beating rapidly inside your chest, you were almost afraid it would jump out. That was, if you had any other thoughts inside your head besides the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours. 

While you kept kissing, Jisung looked over at Seungmin, who shrugged. 

“Since when did they start doing that?” Jisung asked and Seungmin shrugged again.

“Maybe Minho pays extra.”

[stayandot8]

Chapter One: Angels Choking On Their Halos

Welcome to my new series, Just One Yesterday 😏

this one is a little different than anything else I've written. An AU where the members work in a bar with my MC, no idols among them. It's also going to be on the longer side. The fluffy Chris we know and love is nowhere to be found. He's broodier, moodier, and has jokes up the wazoo. So buckle up, kitties. This one's gonna be good 😏.

inspo: the song by Fall Out Boy.

WC: ~9k

Chapter One: Angels Choking On Their Halos

This wasn’t the place I wanted to work for the rest of my life. This was just a stepping stone for where I wanted to be, a place to gain more experience. Make money for now, save up for later. It would make things easier in the long run and that was what really mattered. It was all part of my plan. Sometimes, plans had to be changed in order to adjust to the moment’s needs. 

 This was what I would tell myself every time I would get a rude customer or had trouble with anyone I was working with, which wasn’t often. The family I had made here was enough to keep me going through some of the tougher aspects of life: family passing away, money troubles, even a small period of homelessness. The guys here had taken care of me like I was one of them, which I guess I was. They were all like brothers to me, which was inevitable in the three years we had worked together. 

Minho’s dad owned the bar so he had to be here to be groomed to take over, not that he didn’t have the wish or experience to. He had longer dark hair that he often put back when he was behind the line. He worked hard, eager to prove himself to his father that he deserved to own the place someday. He was well on his way too; he was the best cook we had. When he clocked in, it was mostly business, not one for too much joking around in his kitchen. But when the place was closed and the after-shift drinks were flowing, his laugh was one of the loudest in the place. Seungmin was a close second though, more well known simply as Min. He had the most experience of all of them. He loomed over everyone back there, offering critiques when it was warranted while often keeping to himself and taking orders from Minho. He kept his hair short so it wouldn’t hang in his face while he was working. His eyes were my favorite; they got big when he was talking about something he loved (food, baseball). He loved to open up after a few (light) drinks in him after hours, making jokes at the others expense but never taking it too far. He never seemed to run out of material though, so I had to give him credit for his wit.

Changbin was the shorter one, which made him the perfect choice for security and hosting. It was odd how his rounder face and short dark hair accentuated his raging muscles without taking away from the kindness in his face when he wanted to show off his dimple. His uniform of all black was also a huge help. He was never without his favorite platform shoes though, adding another few inches just to give him the small confidence boost he needed to truly complete the intimidation feel he desired. But after the final customer had gone, he was always the first to clock out and head to the bar to grab his one drink for the night then make sure everyone else got home safely. He loved doing that, loved that he could care about others that way. He had created the environment here from scratch, letting everyone get into their patterns and learn each other's ways while we navigated how to work around each other. If anyone had any problems with another employee, they went to him and they talked about it. Changbin always made sure to see both sides while not putting himself in the middle. He was the perfect mediator.

 Hyunjin was the lead server, in charge of everyone in the front of house. He was tall and lean, his muscle tone inviting long stares from both men and women alike. And when he noticed those stares, boy did he know how to work you. His ease through life was something to be revered, to be chased after for yourself. The way he seamlessly moved from one subject to another made him a flawless conversationalist, suave and sophisticated. It made people wonder what he was doing in a place like this. People had tried to steal him away, but he was loyal to Minho, his best friend since they were young school boys. He once admitted to me that he actually liked this job, never feeling like he was called to do anything else. He was rarely seen wearing the same thing twice, taking his appearance and his job very seriously as the representative of the place. Not to say he was strict with the people under him, he just liked to appear as no-nonsense. But he very much enjoyed the nonsense, especially when Felix was involved. 

Felix was our pastry chef who owned a bakery a couple doors down. He would bring stuff in for us to sell and help out when he could. He wasn’t much for cooking but his baked goods were unbeatable. He came in about three times a week, alternating between dropping stuff off, indulging in his free meals and drinks which he insisted on paying for, or just enjoying the company we provided. His blonde mane was a point of fixation from the other guys, always commenting on how they were jealous and  wanting to touch it, play with it. And he would let them because that was just the kind of guy he was. Felix would do anything to make the ones around him happy. He had grown close with the team, joking around and laughing with them in the kitchen. He would get a call from Hyunjin later into the night when he had already closed up shop for the night and be begged to come and help on anything. He picked up skills quickly, running food for us or helping me or Han behind the bar or even picking up a few tables here and there too. He never said no, always said he was happy to do it. His deep register was the first thing everyone noticed, his deep rumble of laughter forcing everyone to pause in wonder and seek out that call of Hades. It worked to his advantage whenever he would ask one of us to help him out with anything he ever needed. I knew if I couldn't say no to that voice and I knew for a fact no one else here could either. His juxtaposition to his bright demeanor was striking to anyone meeting him for the first time. He always had a smile on his face, no matter what. He picked up the spirits of everyone around him. That’s just who he was.

Han was similar to Felix, though not quite as pure goodness. If Felix was love and light, Han was love and chaos. He was the perfect combination for a co-lead bartender. His creativity was useful when trying to plan new drinks for special occasions, holidays, and just messing around at the end of the night. He was the creativity behind our little duo, I was more in charge of execution. The ‘but Han, how are you going to make the glass start smoking after the customer drinks it?’ or ‘ no, Han, we cannot incorporate weed for the April special’ and lots of ‘that’s a fire hazard, Han.’ were all things I said to him at least once a week. The boy loved to set things on fire so Minho put him up front with the liquids, where he could do minimal damage unless someone handed him a lighter. There may or may not have been a small sign that said ‘Do not give Han a lighter’ on the shelves for everyone to see. But he always meant well. His big brown eyes were such a warm invitation that you couldn’t help but smile when he introduced himself, never wanting to return anything but his warm energy when he was near. He was good like that, able to turn on the charm and the looks whenever he wanted to. He had a kind face which made him a good bartender, made him good with people. When he wore his glasses, he had all the ladies swooning. And he ingested information like it was food. He could get invested in any topic under the sun. Anything I threw at him during his training, he would be able to repeat back to me within about ten seconds, enough time for his brain to process said information and learn it. He explained this once to me back in ye olden days when he first started.

“When I’m passionate about something, I learn all I can and retain it. It’s a superpower I’ve always had but only when I really want to know something.” I didn’t question him again. Everytime he would come in with random facts about some mountain range somewhere far off or some type of goldfish he was learning about, he didn’t stop until he found his new fixation. I knew more about Ranchu goldfish than I ever cared to know. Ever. 

Jeongin, more affectionately known as Innie, was the other server along with Hyunjin. He flitted through styles like they were nothing. That was actually how he got hired. Hyunjin had commented on his jacket and that was all they talked about the entire interview. I know because I was listening to them while they sat at my bar, voices occasionally rising to the point of harsh glares from myself and Han while we tried to help other patrons. He loved showing off his knowledge of the menu to newer customers, eager to help when they were having trouble. Minho had quizzed him a little to help him learn the details, which Jeongin seemed to appreciate. He took to the job quickly, becoming a favorite amongst some of the regulars, his easy charm contagious. It seemed to be a recurring theme among the front of house staff. Hyunjin had put together his team well. 

Saturdays were just about the only day we were all here, minus Felix. The weekend was busy for him down at the bakery so he stayed there for the night, sometimes staying open late to come hang out with us later. Saturdays were always busy, classic date nights for the surrounding area. We were located near a hotel as well so the weekenders often came in either for a drink, for a quick meal or just to get out of their hotel room for a minute or two. The clientele ranged from businessmen there for a meeting with a relaxed environment, families, and couples coming in for a night out or simply away from home. Of course you’d get the occasional outlier: a diplomat wanting to just sit down, high-ranking officials grabbing a quick bite, or rarely, if you listen really closely, you can hear an occasional fight in the back of house. Like tonight. 

Minho ran a tight ship back there, vetting almost everyone who dared apply. However, he cared less about who was washing the dishes, which opened the door for some pretty weird people to apply and get the job. He really just needed them to rinse and repeat so it made sense when the current dishwasher up and quit during the middle of a Saturday night dinner rush. I was mid-shake, tickets starting to create a small pile by the printer, when I heard the yelling over the music in the dining room.

“Well what the fuck do you want from me then?!” I stopped, searching the packed out dining room for Hyunjin and readying for damage control. I spotted his dark hair a few hundred feet across the room as he was doing the same, our eyes meeting and readying for the worst. Minho was mostly cool and calm but had quite a temper when provoked, as all cooks did who took pride in their work. But it wasn’t his voice that we could hear. And it wasn’t he who came storming into said dining room with his apron in his hands. 

“Fuck this place!” Our former dishwasher threw his apron in my direction, hitting me in the face before I could throw my hands or move to avoid it. Luckily for me, the mysterious stains on it did nothing to my uniform of dark jeans and black button down. Winding through the tables, he flew the doors open and disappeared into the night. Hyunjin was still looking at me, his face now red with rage, both at the scene he had just caused and what had just occurred out of his reach. He started to follow after him but I shook my head at him, having too much to do to entertain the idea of being offended. He wasn’t worth it. Hyunjin seemed to agree, albeit reluctantly, as he continued back to the kitchen to assess the damage. I continued my work, Han coming to my side to ask what he could do to help. 

“Hyunjin is going back there probably to take over at the sink. What I need from you is to help Innie on the floor. I can take care of everything back here.” I said as yet another ticket printed someone’s order. 

“Are you sure? I can help you get tickets down then go.” He looked concerned. Little did he know this was what it was like before he came. I flashed a smile to ease the worry in his eyes. 

“Oh please. I could do this in my sleep. I’ll make you something especially good tonight for hangback if you go now.” I continued smiling to cover the sternness in my voice, slipping into problem-solving mode. “And send Changbin up here when he has a second.” I called after him as he pulled his notepad and pen from his pocket to begin serving Hyunjin’s tables, giving me a thumbs up behind his back. 

A flash of lemons, limes, and cherries later, a huffing Changbin appeared at the corner of my bar. 

“I could kill that guy, leaving us high and dry in the middle of a rush. Did he throw his apron at you?” Everyone looks so concerned these days…

“In his defense, I don’t think it was intentional. I think he just meant to throw it behind the bar and I just happened to be in the way.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you. Giving people the benefit of the doubt.” That seemed to ease his concern a tad. 

“Yeah, yeah.” I rolled my eyes at him and smiled, rinsing my cups to make room for new ones. “Could you help bus tables and run food if you have time? Just keep the front phone in your pocket and answer if it rings. I’m putting us on a temporary hold. We’ll check in with the back in about twenty minutes to see how they are.” He nodded, ever the loyal soldier. He even saluted me and ran back to the host stand to grab said phone and do exactly as I had asked, the kitchen doors swinging as he entered. 

I spotted Jeongin at the end of my counter standing at our computer for putting in orders. Once I had a moment, I stepped over to him, spotting the slight tremor in his hand as he pressed button after button, glancing from his notepad back to the screen and back down again. 

“Innie.” I singsonged to him, trying to perk him up as best I could. He smiled but still didn’t look up at me. “Are you doing okay? Do you need any help? I sent Han on the floor to help you with tables so you wouldn’t feel as swamped. Changbin is helping to run food as well so don’t worry about that. Just worry about keeping people happy, okay? Which shouldn't be hard to do since you’re just so darn cute.” I leaned on the counter to stare up at him, hoping to catch his eye so I could be sure the gleam returned. I got him grinning and blushing which was confirmation enough. 

“I’m okay for now, thank you. I’m about to put in for some chilled shots, okay? This table is hell-bent on celebrating something and I couldn’t for the life of me tell you what it was.” I laughed along with him as he gathered his stuff to walk away again. I called out to him.

“I’m here if you need help!”

“I know!” He flashed me another grin as he held the kitchen door open for Hyunjin, who was carrying about eight plates in his arms, then disappeared behind the swinging door. 

“How come you never offer to help me, huh?” Hyunjin had shouted as he was walking past me to deliver the food. 

“Because you’re magical. You need no help.” He half-heartedly glared at me, smirking at the same time. 

“You’ve got tickets again.” Shit. That damn printer…

***

“Han, I swear if you break a bottle, it’s coming out of your paycheck!” Minho was pointedly staring at Han as he tried some new trick he had learned on Youtube the night before. It involved throwing a bottle and that was when I stopped listening to shut it down. Han, ever the rebel, chose to do it anyway. But now he was doing it in front of Minho, who now that the doors were closed, was the young boy he could be without his mask of professionalism. Surrounded by friends instead of coworkers now, he could relax and enjoy the shenanigans from the safety of the bar. 

I heard this being shouted from the kitchen, where Hyunjin, Changbin, and I were gathering our food for the night.. I grabbed a to-go tray full of chips and salsa for the table so as not to create more dishes for Hyunjin who had been stuck there all night long. Hyunjin grabbed some cheese from the walk-in fridge like a mouse, and Changbin was chomping down on a steak that was cooked too long for the customer’s request, so it was put aside for him. We gathered what we needed and returned to the bar where everyone was waiting for us, seated in booths and bar stools. Han had decided against his internet trick, settling for being the bartender for the night. 

“Okay! What is everyone having?” He asked the room, steadfast in his decision. As orders were placed, I put the chips down in front of Jeongin and sat between him and Hyunjin, Seungmin on his other side and Minho next to Jeongin. Changbin moved from his booth to the bar when his food was finished. He hated being left out. 

“I will have whatever that crazy brain can think of that will get me good and drunk so I can forget this stupid night ever happened. I’m off tomorrow, right Minho?” Hyunjin looked expectantly at him. Minho shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Whatever. Hey, where’s my scotch?!” He directed that at Han, who got to it immediately, cracking jokes about impatience while he poured the brown liquid into a paper cup. “What, no glass?” Minho jutted out his lip in a pout. 

“Do you want to clean it?” Hyunjin retorted, the amusement gone from his face. His fingers were pruned from the constant submersion in water; Seungmin hid the rubber gloves from him. Minho nodded in understanding and took a sip from his cup. Han started pouring different liquids into one cup with a dash of juice at the top and handed it to Hyunjin. He took a sip and coughed. Hard. “Damn, dude. I would have asked for a Long Island if I wanted one.”

“You asked for something that would get you good and drunk so there you go. You don’t like it, give it back. Who’s next?” Without any of us seeing or hearing him, Felix emerged from the kitchen doors. 

“I’ll take something fruity please!” His signature smile was plastered on his face as we all greeted him. Jeongin started telling him about what had happened with our former coworker when Han dropped off something pink for the both of them. 

“And he just walked out in the middle of it! All of my tables were so confused, they had no idea he worked here. I tried to just laugh it off but my heart stopped for a second.” 

“Good riddance, I say. I never liked him anyways.” Minho took another sip.

“Then why did you hire him?” My question was amplified when the others asked the same thing. Han dropped off Changbin’s chilled vodka and Seungmin’s beer.

“We needed a dishwasher.” Minho replied simply. “I’ve got someone in mind to replace him, don’t worry Hyunjin. He’ll be in by the time you come in on Monday.” Hyunin nodded his approval and took as big of a swig as he could muster from his Long Island. 

“And what are you having, gorgeous?” Han appeared in front of me, batting his eyelashes. I flicked him on his forehead lightly just because I could. He barely moved and his smile only grew, used to my loving taps. 

“I’ll take something with that new blueberry vodka we just got. I think it would be good with-” I was cut off as Han ran over to the shelf where it was.

“I got it! I’ve been thinking about what to do with it all night. See how you like this. I think it’s perfect.” Watching Han work was something to behold. The look of concentration was so intense, you didn’t want to break it. Seeing him focus on one task at a time happened so rarely, it was a wonder he ever got anything done at all. 

“Now you owe me a drink if my memory serves me. I’ll take something light please, I’d actually like to be able to drive home tonight.” He rounded the edge of the bar to take my seat as we switched places. I turned my back to the group now excitedly chattering about sports and whatnot to stare at the bottles I got to choose from. After thinking, my lips pursed, I chose something that didn’t take much alcohol, granting him his request. As I switched our drinks to grab mine, I strolled through the back of the bar, my second home, to eavesdrop on all the conversations going on. Smiling to myself, proud of the job by the team in front of me, this family I had made. 

***

“Does someone want to tell me why I'm here on my day off?” Hyunjin, decked in casual clothes and sunglasses to ‘hide his eyes from the terror of the sun’ and a drink in front of him. Seungmin was beside him in similar attire having just arrived himself. After the last customer had left the lunch rush, Minho shut the doors behind them and locked them, turning the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and leaving the seven of us from the night before sitting once again at the bar in anticipation. Minho called staff meetings only when needed and it seemed whatever situation he deemed necessary, it was rarely good. 

“Take off those glasses and I’ll tell you.” Minho replied as he approached us once more, joining me behind the bar to face everyone head on with a signature smirk. Hyunjin scoffed as he refused, grumbling to Seungmin beside him. “Okay losers. I found a new dishwasher. It’s a guy I’ve known for a while so he shouldn’t be any trouble. He’s fallen on some hard times so I thought it might be good for him to come work with us. Everyone is going to be on their best behavior, right?” 

“Why, are we meeting him now?” I asked simply, not sure what this big meeting was for. 

“Yes actually. He’s staying at the hotel next door ad he’s waiting out back for me to bring him in. I called you all here to meet him and to make sure everyone was on the same page. Yeah?” Minoh widened his eyes just enough to stare everyone directly in the eye to see their resolution for peace and calm before he was satisfied and exited through the kitchen doors to fetch whoever this guy was, wiping his hands on his apron along the way. The rest of us looked around at each other, slightly scared of what he could possibly be bringing in. 

“This couldn’t be said in a text?” Hyunin said under his breath.

“No proof, no trail.” Seungmin replied. We all nodded. 

Minho returned in a matter of seconds, the mystery guest in tow. He wasn’t entirely short but he wasn’t exactly tall either, his dark hair curly and short and poking out of his black cap. It hung just short of his eyes, dusting his brows with every movement. His eyes were a dark brown, but they were not what I was paying attention to. No, his body was what drew my attention first. His shirt had the sleeves cut off so his muscular arms and peeks of his torso were on full display, cut so low that his chest was almost fully visible to anyone who wanted to take a peek. Which I might have done already when he turned to the side to shake hands with everyone. He greeted everyone with a small smile, chatting for a second with everyone before turning to the next. He introduced himself as Chris. Minho would occasionally call him Chan, making the joke that they were different people. His permanent, shy smile had dropped when he made eye contact with me, drinking in my features like he had all day to do so. He shook his head, trying to get an imaginary fly off of his face and nodded at me. That nod echoed through me as I took him, all of him, in. It was like a bell had gone off in my own mind. For trouble or danger or something else entirely, I didn’t know. But it was all I could hear until Minho’s voice carried through the piercing in my head as I found his eyes again. 

“She’s been with me the longest so she’s almost like second in charge without having the title of it. She’s the best around, you won’t find any better than her.” Minho’s proud smile should have comforted me but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been slighted by him somehow. Changbin interrupted this introduction to ask Minho about a reservation for tonight so his back was turned to us. 

“The best he’s got?” He said with the slightest trace of mocking, his eyebrow raised in questioning. 

“Of course. I’ve been in this industry long enough to know my way around just about everything.”

“Someone sounds cocky.” Well that’s rude.

“I know what I’m worth.” At least I sounded cooler than I felt. I crossed my arms in front of me as I hardened my features at him, daring him to challenge me. He shrugged his shoulders, brushing me off and turning back to Minho.  

“Come on, I’ll show you around.” Minho guided Chris away and led him to the kitchen, Seungmin following close behind to show him everything Minho would deem unimportant. I followed them with my eyes until I could be sure they were out of earshot. 

“Can you believe that? The nerve of that guy.” Everything in me felt like yelling at whoever was closest, Hyunjin being the closest target. His face was blank. 

“What happened? I wasn’t paying attention.” I sighed, resigned to just let it go until it reared its ugly head again.

“Nothing. Nevermind.” 

“Well, since that was it, I’m going to resume my day off activities. I’ll see you troublemakers tomorrow.” Hyunjin rose from his barstool and slid his glasses back over his eyes. He turned his head to face me as he leaned on the bar, leaning his head in closer to me as if to tell me a secret. “I saw that look you gave him. Play nice. I don’t think I can handle more new people coming in and ruining my rhythm.” He feigned brushing his hair off his shoulders. I scoffed at him. 

“What rhythm is that?” He trailed away to the door. 

“The rhythm of me tolerating those who are already here!” He called from the front doors, halfway open from his outstretched arm. With his other, he pointed a finger at poor Han who was oblivious, gave me an annoyed look, and disappeared through the glass doors. 

What look? I wondered to myself. I didn’t give him any specific look… Did I? I shook my head at the thought and continued my prep work for Han’s shift, my mind flitting between thoughts of the new guy and what his problem was between slices of limes and lemons, listening to the chatter behind me grow as the restaurant doors opened for the dinner rush to flood in.

I was gathering the normal clutter for a new table. Napkins piled on top of the extra plates and the only thing left to grab was silverware. But the rack was empty. The only thing to do would be to ask the dishwasher to immediately do a load for some clean ones. This would be my own test to see if Chris could be a professional during service hours. My approach was always to be nice until they hit strike three. He was only at strike one so niceties it was. I pushed the swinging door to find Minho with his back to me, reading a ticket to himself. I marched over to the sink where my target awaited, one headphone in his ear. I tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Hey Chris, we need more silverware up front. We’re all out.” I said plainly. I waited, watching the back of his head for him to turn to acknowledge me. He didn’t. I tapped him harder. “Hey Chris!” He finally turned, confusion evident. 

“What, why are you trying to scare someone who’s working with heavy machinery?”

“I tapped you already and you said nothing. And an industrial dishwasher is hardly heavy machinery. We’re out of silverware up front.” I said just as dry as I had before. I turned to walk away, satisfied with myself. I saw out of the corner of my eye that he hadn’t moved so I stopped to turn back and see that he was still staring at me. “What?” I snipped. 

“I didn’t hear a question. Or a certain magic word.” His eyes widened in fake innocence, showcasing for anyone on the outside to see this as playful banter. I knew better, but I had to let him win. He had something I needed and I was ever the chess player in knowing that sacrifices for the short were better for the long run. I took a deep breath and put on my best fake smile.

“Chris, do you mind terribly washing some silverware and bringing it out to us so we can serve our customers and make some damn money? Please.” I batted my eyelashes at him, signaling that this was not over. Not by a long shot. 

“Of course I can.” He responded with an equally fake smile. “I’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.” He turned back to his sink, grabbing the next bucket of dishes and pulling out the silverware to separate it. I was surprised I wasn’t literally seeing red, my hands were shaking beside me, clenched into fists. I wiped my sweaty palms on my work jeans, desperate for some control over my own body again. Who the fuck was he to question me? Twice in one day too? I think not. I didn’t know how but I would get my revenge one way or another. One day…

But the question was really very simple. Why did I let someone who did not know me get to me so quickly? It had been less than a day and he had already worked his way under my skin, churning the fire I didn’t know was inside. I stopped in the hallway leading to the dining room, taking solace in the darkness and muted noises. I let these thoughts come and go, trying to let them wash over me. If this was how he was, he wouldn’t last very long. Someone would see through him, right? I shook my head and took several breaths, willing my heartbeat to steady out before I went back to my tables. 

A slower dinner service than usual allowed Han to work his usual charms on the few lucky ones to sit at his bar. His nights to take full control were almost every other night starting on Sundays, leaving me to either have the days off or work the floor if I needed the money. It was fun to watch him in his element, the easy conversation flowing so naturally with perfect strangers it made anyone wonder if they actually knew each other. I was by the POS station at the edge, counting my tickets to ensure I had them all as the night was dying down. The remaining tables belonged to Jeongin so I was free to sit at the bar until everyone had gone. 

I hadn’t seen much of Chris tonight other than the one instance, every other trip I made to the kitchen he seemed to be too occupied with a conversation with Minho or involved in his work to pay much attention to anything else. I was still deciding if I wanted to address his weird behavior or drop it entirely. Until…

I had remembered that I had bought something special for myself and Han after a particularly hard shift weeks prior and it had arrived that morning. I hopped off my stool to grab it from my bag in the office, passing by Chris on his phone in the hallway. His brows were drawn together in concentration and his typing only got more furious after I passed by. I noted it for later dissection. 

I returned to Han at the bar with the item behind my back. After he finished, he saw me trying to keep any indication that I was holding a surprise off of my face as best I could. His eyes squinted as he drew nearer, caution written all over his features. 

“Whatcha got there, sparky?” He finally spoke as he folded his arms over the counter, leaning his full weight on them as a smile crept over. I whipped out what was behind my back, a rhinestone covered shaker I had found. Han’s eyes got wide with excitement. 

“You don’t have to use it obviously if it’s too ‘girly’ for you,” I used my fingers for the air quotes. “But if you want to use it, I’m going to wash it and put it back there. Just remember to hand wash it, don’t send it back to dish. I worry about the stones chipping off or something.” I couldn’t help my smile as Han took it from my hands to examine it, eyes wide. That’s when I felt more than saw another presence coming up behind me. 

“What is that?” I could hear the disgust Chris was trying to mask under the layers of feigned curiosity. “I could see it from the kitchen.” 

“It’s our new shaker, courtesy of yours truly.” I turned to stare directly into the sun to find his eyes staring right back at me. His brows raised in surprise.

“Oh you bought it for this place? I should call you Sparkles.” He chuckled at his own joke then paused for a moment, his eyes going distant as he watched Han decide where to put our new jewel. “In fact, I think that’s your name from now on.” He said just low enough for only me to hear, giving me a smirk and shuffling off back to the kitchen before I could protest. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to Han, proudly displaying our new shaker to anyone who would listen. 

An hour later, the floor empty and chairs on top of tables, Jeongin was mopping the stone floor as part of his closing duties. He had drawn the short straw so it was his final duty before he could clock out officially and join the rest of us who had worked that night at our usual spot at the bar. Everyone, sans Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Felix who had been dying to meet the new guy, was waiting for the blonde baker to make an appearance before fully getting into the swing of the evening. Changbin was seated at the end, Minho beside him and fully engaged in the conversation. That left myself, Han, and Chris who was sitting with an empty seat between us. Han was in his usual place behind the bar and asking those who had clocked out what they wanted to drink down at the opposite end. I was busy looking at my phone, catching up on missed notifications while Chris was letting his eyes roam around to take in his surroundings. They landed on Han a few feet away, chatting and laughing with the guys. 

“He’s good at that, isn't he.” Not a question. An observation of the world he had waltzed into. More to himself than to me, but I saw my window of opportunity to be the bigger person and I took it. I watched Han do what he did best while mixing different liquids for the men in front of him.

“Yes he is. He’s got a natural knack for people. It’s what makes him good at his job.” He paused, like he wasn’t expecting me to answer, then nodded once in acknowledgement. Then he turned his dark eyes to me and waited until I looked at them to ask his next question.

“And what makes you good at yours, Sparkles? Do you also have a ‘natural knack for people’?” A gentle mix of curiosity and a slight mocking tone in his words. It took me by surprise that he was asking me anything at all. 

“No, it’s my ability to judge a person’s character within seconds of meeting them. I knew who Minho was when he introduced himself in primary school.”

“Minho isn’t very hard to read.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. 

“Oh I beg to differ.” I cocked one right back. “He’s a master at saying one thing and meaning another. It took me years before he moved away to try and decipher his secret language. You, however…”

He sat back expectantly, a bored expression plastered on his face, waiting for me to dazzle him as my nickname implied. As I drew my pause longer, he shook his head slowly, impatiently at me. 

“Yes? 

I studied him a moment longer, not quite ready to give up his attention so quickly. I wanted it for some reason, whether it was because I had earned it or some other deep seeded reason to be explored by a therapist. But I wanted his attention for as long as I could keep it. There was something captivating about it. I realized I had been silent for a second too long before I finally spoke. 

“You like to tease because it gets a reaction out of people. It keeps their attention on you and you love it. Maybe you didn’t get enough attention as a child or someone took it all away from you. Either way.” I watched his face fall from blank ignorance to stone cold. Nail on the head. “Whatever your parents did, it’s time to forgive them and grow up. You don’t need attention to make people like you.” I felt my smugness flood from my brain straight to my smile as I turned back to my phone. “It’s like I know you already.”

“I promise you don’t.” The quickness of his response snapped my attention back to him. His expression hardened in moments, leaving me with no retort. “I suggest you not parade around claiming to know things you don’t know the first thing about. Hiding behind knowledge you think you have doesn’t suit you. It makes you look ignorant. I would suggest you try to get to know people before assuming things about them. Especially me.” I no longer wanted to be the subject of his attention. I felt the blush involuntarily creep up my cheeks as I tried and begged my eyes to look anywhere but at him. “Let me tell you what I know about you, hm?  You’re so buried in your work that you don’t even see what’s happening around you. Take that away and what’s left? Friends? Everyone you know seems to work here. Family? I know by the way you treat your coworkers that you don’t have any. You don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve, you wear them on your face. I can read you like a book.” He had moved off of his seat in the midst of his little speech to lean closer to my face, almost spitting on me several times. He gave a half smile and turned to walk away. I found my brain and my words just in the knick of time. 

“I’ve finally got my nickname for you.” I willed my voice to keep from quivering.

“Oh yeah?” He turned back to me, still not far.

“Puck.”

“Puck? Like a hockey puck?” “Like from Shakespeare. He’s a character in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Ah. And why is that relevant?”

“Because he’s a donkey. And you’re an ass.”

I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door, ignoring the shouts of protest and questions about where I was going. I felt someone bump into my shoulder as I ran, not bothering to turn to see Felix before shouting an apology and running to my car before anyone saw my tears.

***

“I just don’t understand, Felix. He’s known me less than a day and he already hates me? Tell me how that makes sense.” Sitting across from Felix in his own bakery was my favorite way to spend my days off. He had made such a cozy place to call his own. Cases of baked goods lined the sides with the counter facing the glass front doors. The blue walls had cute pictures of animals all over them, ranging from cats to dogs to bunnies and ferrets to baby chicks and wolf pups to piglets running around in grass fields or playing in mud. I wondered where he got them all from but I hadn’t dared ask. There were fake vines and flowers hanging from the ceiling, creating the feel of being in a pastel forest dream. White steel chairs and tables were spread across the small room and just outside the doors, people enjoying his products were seen constantly with smiles and laughter. 

A yellow plate with the wrapper from his newest cupcake flavor, Cherry Lime Surprise, in front of me, Felix stopped me mid-rant. 

“And what exactly did he say to you again?” I scoffed.

“Ha! Which time? When he questioned my abilities just after Minho told him I was the best he had, not only insulting me but Minho too? Or when he made me stop and say please when we needed more silverware in the middle of service when I had other shit to do? Or, my personal favorite, when he called me a friendless workaholic with no family and my head up my own ass? Which time are you referring to, Felix?” I had to scoff again, lost in my own thoughts. “It’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even know me. What makes him think he can pass such definite judgment on me?”

“He seemed to be in a sour mood after you left last night. He apologized that he wasn’t in a happier mood. Said he had a bad night and had to leave shortly after you did. The other guys say he’s fine, he jokes around with them and everything. Minho said he was a childhood friend.” “Yeah well so am I. I know he would believe me if I told him but I also know he would tell me to deal with it myself. And I don’t want to have to run to him if I ever have a problem with someone he hires.”

“You literally never have.” Felix gave his best comforting smile, making his eyes sparkle.

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to start now.” 

“Why is he bothering you so much? He doesn’t know you so why does his opinion matter?” Now that was a thinker. 

“Well, if I’m going to see him so often working there, I thought we could get along. Be friends even. Or at least friendly. But with the way he’s acting after only knowing me a day, I don’t see that happening.” I pushed the plate away towards him, nudging him that I wanted another. I widened my eyes to plead, but he saw right through me and grabbed the plate. 

“You have to pay for this one!” He called to me. I followed him up there to do exactly that. “And don’t over tip me! You’re paying too much already.”

“Try and stop me! It’s my way of paying you for listening to me rant about nothing.” I responded as he retrieved my delicious dessert from its case and placed it on my plate to hand to me. I turned the device back to him and grabbed my plate to run away back to my table before he could yell at me. He looked incredulously at the device then back up to me, his mouth agape. I shrugged with my most mischievous smile. “If you tell me it’s too much, I’m just going to double it next time.” I watched his shoulders move up and down dramatically as he threw his head back to look at the ceiling. He stared for a second before coming around the counter to sit in his white chair. 

“Anyways. As I was saying.” He narrowed his eyes at me, waiting for me to take a bite before continuing. “If you have to work with him, you only have a few options. The first would be to try and make peace. Remind him you have to work together and see if you can compromise enough to be civil and only talk to him when you need to.” My top lip curled in disgust as I swallowed. 

“Or?” I popped the last bit of bliss into my mouth, intent on savoring it while I could. 

“Or you could avoid him at all costs. Don’t speak to him. Just ignore him if he tries to talk to you about anything other than work. But I highly advise against this. You do work together now and running away from your problems never works. You know that.” 

“Unfortunately, I do. But if I’m going to avoid him effectively, he needs to stay in the kitchen. I won’t bother him if he doesn’t bother me.” Felix took my empty plate from me as I rose to leave, gathering my stuff. 

“If that’s how you want to play it, then I’ll be here waiting for it to all go to hell.” He gave me another one of those signature smiles. Every time he flashed me one of those, I knew that everything would be okay. That’s what made Felix such a good friend. He gave good advice but would also be there for you when you ignored it. No matter how much he teased, he never said ‘I told you so’ or judged you when something was your fault. He never threw it in your face when you were wrong, he just patiently waited for you to realize it. He was a good friend, better than I deserved. His sultry voice broke me of my thoughts. “If you want to start your avoiding tactic, now is a great time. He’s across the street on his way over.” I whipped my head around to see Chris dressed in all black with a backpack on his shoulder and indeed headed this way. “He asked if he could come see the place so I told him to come by.”

“Shit.” It was the fastest I had gathered the rest of my things, cursing myself for spreading out so elaborately. 

“Use the back door.” Felix, you angel. I told him so as I rushed onto the street outside. 

***

“Doesn’t it liven up the place? I think it does.” I stepped back to admire my handiwork. I had lined the shelves of liquor with tiny christmas lights, equipped with a remote to change the colors to anything possible. Changbin was watching me struggle with the different sticky strips to hang them, not offering any helpful suggestions whatsoever but admiring the job once I was done. 

“I like it! Can you turn them purple? What about blue?”

“I can do better than that. Watch this.” I pressed the multicolored button on the remote and the lights turned from red to orange to yellow all the way down the rainbow and back again, on a constant loop. I proudly watched Changbin’s face gleam with pride as he watched my lights flicker. 

“Yah! I’m so proud of you. You did it all by yourself.” He beamed at me, marveling at them as he walked backwards to the kitchen to discuss tonight’s dinner service with Seungmin. After watching the lights for a little while longer, I pulled out my cutting board and fruits to cut for myself.

I was ready to put my plan into action when Chris walked up to see the commotion. 

“I guess Sparkles was the right name for you after all.” He flashed me a quick half-smile. A blink and I would have missed it. “It looks good. Brightens it up.” And then he was gone as quickly as he had come. 

What the fuck was that?!

This back and forth was making my head spin. Before I could think too much about it other than my initial reaction, Minho came in through the locked front doors. Which was odd because Tuesdays were his day off, his jeans hanging loosely around his hips and his white tshirt showing off his toned muscles.. His eyes searched around the room for something and landed on me. He nodded, signaling that he was headed for me. 

“Why are you here? Don’t you have some expensive wine tasting to attend or something to improve your restaurant?” I gave a sickeningly sweet smile, flashy all of my teeth for him. 

“Haha, very funny.” He narrowed his eyes and grimaced. “Where’s Chris?”

“Probably in the back.” I waved my hand in the direction I implied. 

“Good. Don’t move. I want to talk to you both.” Uh Oh…

I quite literally couldn’t move, my brain jumping from thought to thought and never quite landing on a reason why he would want to talk to the both of us. Had Felix told him everything? No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t betray my trust like that. Minho came back with Chris, an apron tied around his waist and wiping his hands off with a towel before slinging it over his shoulder. 

“What’s up, Minho?” I couldn’t help my suspicious tone. 

“I want you to train Chris behind the bar starting Monday next week.” He bore into my eyes, daring me to protest. I knew better. Chris had moved his attention to me, a smug smile spreading across his features. 

“Why?” Questioning was okay. 

“We were talking a few nights ago about how he wanted to learn mixology and there’s no one better to learn from. Chris, before you start to protest, keep in mind that she’s the best in the business when it comes to training. She taught Han everything he knows. If you want to learn, you learn from her.” He turned to me, wiping the smug look off my face when I heard his tone from the first word.

“And you. You can teach anyone, I know you can. You can whip anyone into shape, I've seen it. Give him a chance and you might just see the potential that I see. If he wants to learn, why shouldn’t you be the one to teach him?” He leaned back pushing off the counter, smiling to himself. Like he was proud of making us work together. Like he hadn’t just given me the biggest test of my patience I had no intention of acing a minute ago. 

“Oh by the way,” he turned, clearly headed for the back door to the parking lot. “Both of your jobs depend on it. So play nice.” I could swear I just saw devil horns poking through his hair just then as he smirked and twirled on his heel. He sauntered away and whistled some unknown tune, seemingly unaware of the bomb he had just dropped in front of me, its faint ticking in time with his retreating footsteps.

“Can I call you Professor Sparkles?” He had leaned in closer so I could hear his whisper. The urge to slap the smugness off of his face was heavy. My hand may have twitched. On its own, of course. The smile he was sporting was dangerous. Time to throw caution to the wind.  I leaned in as well, not wanting anyone else to hear what I was saying. 

“Alright Puck. You wanna play?” I leaned in an inch closer, my lips tugging at the corners. “Then let’s play.”

part two I masterlist

[vvamp3]

#! — ᴍᴇᴢᴢᴀɴɪɴᴇ | scb

genre: fluff, angst (tiniest bit suggestive)

pairing: knight!changbin x afab!princess!reader

wc: 9.6k

warnings/ contents: slow burny, arranged royal marriage stuff, forbidden love, friends to lovers, chracter death

note: this is my fic for @hyunverse 'war of hearts (until kingdom come)' collab!! it was SO fun to write this and especially with all the ppl participating in the collab, make sure to check all of em out!! this was my first every royal au thing to write so be kind on me 🤞🏻🫶

Ten in the morning. You had bathed, had gotten your hair prepared for the day, had been put into an outfit, too tight and insufferable. Had eaten breakfast, had conversed shortly with your parents, catching up on the latest news, boring and little informative. You had gone back to your room, had taken out a book to read which you couldn’t concentrate on. All too little happened, far too little time has passed.

Meet me after supper, by your balcony.

Changbin’s signature under the short note, and the message drove you to insanity. You hadn’t seen him in a while, his work occupying him and his time more often than it was to your liking; knights came home bruised up and injured, their horses distressed and tired. Changbin being the grand commander of his battalion never missed to take the most damage – the determination and his well-intended, devoted persona, as much as you loved him for it, always prone to trouble him.

Changbin and you had started a friendship a few years back. It was unlikely, unusual, for a princess and a knight to be as close knitted as the two of you were. Yet, when Changbin had started to work directly under your father, the king himself, and had gotten higher in his position of knight, you and him had chances upon chances to converse and mingle; be it on royal circulars or ascots, when discussing other kingdoms and the safety of your own, or inner economy and politics. It had been impossible to not acquaint the other, and your characters had seemed to connect naturally, much like two pieces of a puzzle, seamless, fitting to the other. Changbin was one you held dear to your heart, one you wouldn’t bear to lose – though your father didn’t approve of it. Had warned you countless times that your relation was of ill quality, that his direct commander was of no good influence to his child, no one you should converse with let alone call a friend – hence why tonight — much like all night, any time he wished to see you, speak to you —, Changbin offered your balcony as a place to catch up. You barely met elsewhere whenever you did, as it was by far the only place in the palace not watched by soldiers – those of who had told on you and Changbin often enough in the past for the two of you to grow cautious and careful. Seeing each other in the halls or the ballroom occasionally yet never speaking much, only conversing with eyes and sheepish smiles, reserving actual conversations when you were in lonesome. When it was the two of you only, left to talk about deeper-lying subjects than the ones you were used to with people other, than Changbin ever had the chance to. On your balcony, it was always the very pure of you both; no facets, no obligations. Him and you, in your most utter nature.

You missed your friend dearly.

Supper couldn’t have come any slower. You had been dreading the day and wishing for night, had watched the sun set behind the horizon ever so slowly, taking its sweet time – at least your balcony had always had the prettiest view. The book you had been hoping to finish today was lain forgotten on your vanity, about half read. Your mind had been elsewhere the entire evening, maids having to repeat questions second times to ask of your opinion on hair or attire choices, and you’d apologised each and every time. Your mind's been always in a frenzy when Changbin returned from the battlefield. The utter worry you bore for him, the one you’d call your best of friends, was more than you could manage with a clear mind, the notice of his duties calling always prone to set your heart to uneasy condition, only tranquillising when you saw the man in flesh and bones and with lack of harsh bruises, preferably. Though that was seldom the case.

“Might anything be bothering you, child?”

Your fathers stern voice, and you jolted up from the confines of your thoughts. You had only been poking around in your food, appetite lost if there was any to begin with, thoughts neither in the current nor on any subject talked about, thus not participating in your parents’ conversations. You blinked some before meeting his eyes, managing a smile apologetic.

“Yes- no. Nothing bothering me, I apologize. I’m perfectly fine.”

You’d always been a bad liar. You gifted another smile, hoping the matter would be dropped. You weren’t one to be untruthful to your parents, always speaking your mind when needed, standing your ground when necessary. Though when the name Seo Changbin fell, polite talking always turned into agitated speech and angry voices, and you were all but in the mood for such; so you kept the reason for your state a secret.

“I have just been feeling quite faint since morning, perhaps it’s the weather.”

Going back to your merely untouched food, the additional information surely leaving them convinced. It wasn’t a lie, either, much to your dismay; you had been feeling rather ill, with worry and anticipation for your friend, though neither King nor Queen would have to know of it.

“Oh dear, then maybe you shall be able to rest upstairs, no? Leave the plate full, honey, hurry to bed.”

Your mother had always been the softer of the two. You had grown old without siblings, an only child, your mother always the closest person to your heart. Which never meant you didn’t love your father dearly; yet the bond connecting you and the Queen had always been the stronger one.

Your eyes found hers, despite not having expected her offer you took it gratefully all the same. You knew your father wasn’t fond of your leaving early; arguing that it was high time to start being raised a Queen, a soon to be one, and excusing yourself due to nuisances such as sheer faintness was all but justifiable. Your mother shot her husband a glare, though, comforting hand on his arm; signalling that it was well. You left with a quick bow of the head, hurrying and increasing your step only after the vast doors of the main hall had closed behind you - your father preferred you walked around the hall in acceptable tempo.

Your shoes sounded up in quick manner against the tile floors of the halls, ricocheting against the tall space. Your dress threw waves at your fastened feet, breaking in tides against your figure. It was dark, corridors lit only by occasional candle; it was enough to see staff pass by, maids and already returned soldiers, and whenever they were in proximity you decreased your step. All greeting with a nodded “Princess.”, before passing by to their own affairs, and you merely nodded back, impatient to eventually, finally reach the comfort of your room, your beloved balcony. You weren’t certain if Changbin would be awaiting you already, he was always the last to finish his business with his men, managing to rest later than he’d like himself. He was commander after all, so, prone to overworking.

You opened your dark wooden doors in haste, making room and lighting a candle before struggling with the matches, your hands shaking, your breath hiccuping. Opening the glass doors of your balcony – to see Changbin standing by the edge of it, strong, linen covered arms propped up against the stone railings, shoulders hunched over in manner relaxed, observing eyes watching the view. It had always been a favourite of him, simply laying eyes on the vast space of the palace from above, on nature all around. He said it to be calming, especially in your proximity.

“Changbin.”

The man turned at the sound of your voice, away from his dearly loved sky and to face your eyes. Only now you were granted the ability to see the light bruises painting around his eyes, red, angry scratches by his chin and jaw; though you didn’t have time to pay mind to it just yet, only registering his presence without much thinking – you needed a hug, and if it was the last thing you could wish for.

He’d always had a steady build, and falling into his arms had perpetually granted stability you sought anywhere around, in the loneliness of your occupation and the worries of your future, stability no one except him was ready to grant. It took his steady arms and pouding chest, his pumping heart which seemed to increase in tempo whenever near you, for your mind to come to ease. It needed him on your balcony for you to forget about duties and crowns. With him on your balcony you were you, in your simplest form.

It took both of you several moments to finally discharge from the hug, and only after your bodies parted you got to inspect the state of your friend. Your fingers painted over the velvet under his right eye, only imagining the sting it caused. Your thumb caressed the fresh scratch right by his chin, your brows merely scrunching at the pain that must have caused – you would take it all from him, if you could. Would bear it all with him if it was any possible, if it meant shortage of his aching. It wounded anew whenever you’d see him after returning from the battlefield – you were well aware of his own wish for this profession – wanting to fight for what’s good laid in his nature – yet your own desire to know him safe and sound stemmed from egotism you never believed dissipating. He was your closest friend at last, imagining him in anguish of any kind cut at your own heart deeper than anything other was able to.

“Do not look at me like this. I am fine.”

Changbin. Always the personified reassurance, always the calm anchor that never allowed you to seed worry for him. That would give his life to keep you safe, that would sacrifice himself if it meant knowing you in happiness. It was sheer impossible for you not to bear worry. Though you always disguised, for his sake.

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”

And with that you fell into his arms once more. Changbin embraced you wholly, holding your body so tight to his it was nearly uncomfortably suffocating, though you’d never dare to mind. The man buried his face in your nape, keeping there for a moment or two before parting again. An exchanged smile before a laugh followed, a laugh filled with relief, with reassurance; not one of Changbin’s departments was ever safe, no given guarantee he’d be able to return at all. Left and forgotten for times end on the battlefield; it was always a scenario open, one that you feared during sleepless nights.

Yet he was here, returned this time, like he always did, always promised.

“So, tell me everything.”

You rumpled up your heavy dress, wishing to change out of it as the setting sun indicated you’ve been wearing cottoned corset and linen silk for far longer than your liking allowed. You settled on your designated metallic chair, Changbin took seat on the other one. You’ve taken ownership over both a few years back – the maids and cooks in the kitchen still asked about the mystery of their disappearance, and you and Changbin found amusement in it each time. You had been practically children when you had snuck into the hot chambers, hiding from guards and personnel and getting hold of two cheap looking sitting attires because sitting on the stone porch of the balcony had become unbearable over time. You had sprinted up as fast as it was possible back then, had rushed with adrenaline and laughed your hearts out at the relief of not getting caught, of succeeding with your master plan. You had set the chairs on the balcony facing the vastness of the palace, just so you could have a look onto the sunset if you wished. The chairs haven’t moved since – no guard ever checked the privacy of your own four walls let alone the tiny balcony, so you’ve been sure your dear possessions would be safe and sound there for as long as you wanted them to be.

“You wish for me to tell you everything? Princess, I’m sure you have far more precious information about the happenings within the palace than my ever boring talk about the battlefield.”

Typical of him to deny his worth, and you huffed in bitter amusement. Your heart felt warm with the name he chose to call you; princess. He had started to drop your name and call you by your rank in fun initially, though the word contained in his addressing you, never without a slight teasing behind. You liked hearing the title out of his mouth the most. For with him it didn’t come with a notion of fearful respect, but utter friendship instead.

“Oh, I have told you the battlefield isn’t boring. Brutal, yes, but I am not weak, you are well aware.”

He was aware, though it wasn’t in Changbin’s own enjoyment to tell stories of war. It was his passion and well-earned duty to fight and protect, yet he always despised the idea of talking about matters of violence outside said matter itself; because he knew you would never fully understand, would never fully support said wanting and needing to fight and protect, because it didn’t seem fit to discuss such cruciality, with you specifically. Not because he thought you weak – but because he cherished you. Adored you. Loved you. Because his emotions for you grew deeper than artificial talk about duties and doings, politics and battlefields. Because every word he’d tell would make him wish you’d say instead, drinking up your utterances like the sweetest wine, following the soundwaves of your voice as though visualising them. When with you, talk about himself grew null, the wish to emerge in conversation about you sprouted prompt and plump within his chest, like ripe fruits on greenest bushes.

“I am aware, and yet your stories are far more exciting. I wish to hear them all – any news on your father? I hope you hadn’t started a fight while I was gone, you’re still on good terms? Oh, and how is Jisung? I haven’t got the chance to talk to him yet, is he doing well?”

Question after question, simply to hear you talk. And talk you did. Talked beyond answering Changbin’s questions, talked about this and that and oh how boring it’s been without him, talked until your guts hurt from laughing and until the sun started setting behind the saffron horizon, until first nightbirds began singing their lullabies. Until you warned Changbin to make haste and leave – when the clock struck ten your maids would come up, to get you ready and washed up for bed. Both of you reluctant, both of you hesitant to let go of the evening hug you shared, arms around the other, wrapped closely to hold body against body. It was you who pulled apart with a sigh, one so heavy it cut at Changbin’s heart. How he wished he could stay on this very balcony till midnight and beyond, could lay beneath those navy duvets of your bed with you. How he wished to be closer to you eternally, physically and emotionally, however humanly and inhumanly possible. Changbin was aware he was grasping at straws – a soldier and a princess would be one kind of a marriage across the entirety of the kingdom, having never heard of such love made believe it didn’t exist. And yet Changbin climbed over the stoned railings in reluctance, said a last goodbye with saddened eyes though you had disappeared behind your curtains too early to catch it. You were blissfully unaware of Changbin’s tragic plight – the man wasn’t all too sure if it was a good rather than a bad thing. He was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved, the life you wished for. That marriage to a prince was an inevitable prediction in near future, that your heart didn’t burn for him like his did. And yet his mind’s contents were images of you when he laid in his bed that night, replaying in painful reminders until he had fallen asleep, at last.

___ . ꫂ

“Seungmin? As in Kim Seungmin? – Father, you cannot be serious.”

The sweet alluring euphoria you had felt rushing through your limbs the day prior had made way for even greater disappointment the following morning; breakfast had been served at ten as per usual, your family containing three had talked newest reports, focusing on especially the freshly returned troupes. Changbin hadn’t told you yesterday – as he seldom did – that though his battalion suffered minor loss the return hadn’t succeeded in whole unison. Soldiers had let their lives on fields beyond the kingdom, would never return to families, would live on in sole memory. Your father revealed such fragile information as though it was any other occurrence, simply an additional point of his list of news, as though his heart didn’t beat faster or tore in two at the sheer cruciality of the fact – your mother barely looked pained, continuing to spoon at her soup as though lost lives were barely a vanity as any other. You wondered if their detachment sprouted from year long experience, and you wondered and feared if your own heart would ever carve itself to a shape theirs had long accustomed. Not of stone, yet used to tragedy.

It was only after a break of short nature that your father discarded his silvern spoon by his right, turning towards you, waiting until you have met his gaze. Stopped eating yourself you listened to his following words, words you wanted to rip out his throat before they had the chance to escape his mouth, before they had the power to embed themselves to reality.

“Yes, Prince Kim Seungmin. His father and I had been conversing through letters and seemed it best fitting to arrange a marriage between him and you. He is most eligible, you would make a great pair. Not mentioning the power our kingdoms will have combined – you truly have no reason to be upset.”

The words like a heavy whip against your body, the spoken death sentence seeding rotten in your brain. Marriage was inevitable in your position and occurred quickly when only set in stone – meaning if your father’s decision was ultimate, you had weeks, at best, to count before walking down the aisle, before spending a life with a man you merely known by name. Your parents had never seemed a flaw in such arrangements, never understanding your wish for love, and to marry after it. After all, their marriage had been arranged and their parents’ was – mutual liking at best was unavoidable when you only reached the point of living together, and love was a mere privilege that would simply come to those who let it.

Only you never befriended their worldview, never believed the marriages they’d speak of were ones of true admiration. Admittedly, you wouldn’t be able to know better – you were simply a reader of written romance who had never found the luck to live through such feeling yourself, only words on thick pages that showed the very marriages you so dearly wished for. As a child you had believed your parents were in love, though you had started questioning that in your adolescence. They seemed happy, surely, as far as you observed. Though you doubted love had come to them passionately or fervidly, doubted a feeling as great as no other had ever swept them off their step. And your heart mourned, pained at the possibility that you may die with your life never be turned upside down by a person loved dearly and intimately, that the only destiny, the only availability of romance was a prince you felt nothing for.

Kim Seungmin; the name fell off your father’s mouth before you had the chance to cut his word off. Kim Seungmin, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom, a man so perfect you’ve never seen one like him. He was nice, he was charming, he was stiff when in absence of a familiar face. He was your parents’ favourite, he was the man everyone would die to have – he was your future husband, it seemed, the future King to your Queenship, and you felt nothingness for him. There was neither love nor hate; solely nothing. The thought alone enrolled panic within your guts, cold sweat spreading on the cushions of your palms, the little hairs by the back of your nape standing straight in fear – you as though saw your future before you, a future you couldn’t help but dread already.  

“Father, I barely know him, you cannot think of making me marry him by the end of the season, what do you-“

A heavy hand on the vitric of the table and you stopped your enraged flow of words momentarily, respect for your father overshadowing the fire that flamed up within you.

“You will get to know him. Besides, I have mentioned that he is most eligible. He is kind and humorous, he has a brain he knows to use. He has a name and a kingdom just like you do – you do not have anything to be upset about.”

Hot anger gnawing at your insides, seethed within the pit of your gut and dared to overcook in tears any nearing second. You didn’t wish to cry before your parents, before your father. Didn’t want to explain whichever context could possibly bother you to such hopeless state, didn’t want to show weakness in a matter so foreign to them. You blinked away the water in your eyes, observing mother and father exchanging a look, if questioning or degrading you couldn’t tell. They continued with their food, unaware of your inner turmoil, or choosing to ignore it. They were aware of your differing view on marriage, on your wish to marry after love, though years had passed since you had last spoken on the matter – it never let to compromises, hence felt aimless to convince and explain. Although, you felt the need to explain right then and there, to change their minds. For it might be the only chance you’d get, for your future might write itself if you failed to speak up now. And yet you felt a fool for scrambling for right words, for your inability to convince with great arguments and remarks. Because altogether, there wasn’t anything you could say, not to them, anyways. Because the search for love was null to them though tore apart your entire being. Thoughts and feelings head over heel while your parents waited for an answer, received only a lack thereof.

Only after counted minutes your voice filled the hall of the room, when your anger and frustration subsided just enough. Your body felt yet trembling, your interior shaken to the very last bone, though you had collected enough to speak, at last.

“You- you are right, Prince Seungmin would be the most righteous match indeed, he- he has qualities one could only dream of.”

Indifference from your addressees, a calming breath from your side. You wouldn’t allow to be married away without trying to change the outcome, surely. There was fate worse than yours, you were aware, unchangeable fate that one was bound to subject to. Maybe yours was too, maybe all words had been set in stone the moment they had left mouths; and yet you weren’t one to never attempt.

“But I don’t love him. I cannot possibly marry him, because I do not love him.”

Words like a slap against your parents, surely, and a part of you doubted your fate could be exchanged. Judging by the looks on their faces, by the utter disbelief. By the flared nostrils of your father, the deep crease between your mother’s brows. The settlement was set in stone; your father hadn’t asked you about the context, he had informed you. Simply and solely, as he had informed you of the fallen soldiers. As though marriage and death weren’t events of greatest major, as though all was null.

“Sweetheart, listen.”

Your mother’s voice an attempt to comfort, though you’d bet no word she could say would be the words you needed to hear.

“Your father and I are aware that you and we have… different views when it comes to marriage.”

Sensing your prediction to embed into reality you braced yourself from her following words, hoped they wouldn’t wound you too deep at heart. You were too fragile this moment altogether, you weren’t sure how many more hits you could take.

“…but you must marry sooner or later, honey.”

Voice too sweet to your liking for the words within the sugar coat were of bitterest taste.

“You will learn to love the prince, I’m sure of it. You must simply open your heart… leave alone there isn’t truly another… option… if you understand.”

Meeting her eye, questions marking your visage. You sweated, felt hot and cold simultaneously, felt each your senses magnify in overwhelming manner.

“There isn’t any other you love, child. If there was…”, a look to her husband, then back to you. It uneased you. “If there was another there might be arrangements possible to make. But the prince is the safest option and the best possible match for you, your father and I are sure of it.”

Your mother laid a hand on your father’s arm, the man merely looking at you, your mother gifting a compassionate look. You felt hard to breathe, your corset all too tight and the garments on you far too much. It was hot, the room started losing its shape. You excused yourself, arguing you’d need time to rethink the sudden information, hearing faint encouragement from your mother’s side, falling out of the velvet chair and stumbling your way gen room. Fiddling with the strings of the back of the dress, failing attempts of searching oxygen. Sobs past your throat in ugly manner, frustration and hopelessness laced within the cries.

Truth be told, if you actually loved anyone, all may be simpler. Truth be told your mother was right, and you saw your life being given away as though not your own altogether.

You needed air. You needed to breathe right the second or you dared to suffocate to death. Which wouldn’t be an alternative all too bad, given your future wasn’t yours.

Opening the heavy glass to your balcony in frantic motion – and you nearly cried out in utter fear of surprise. Changbin sitting on his assigned chair, garments lousy and head turning to catch your eye when he heard the noise from behind him. Seeing your blown out eyes and frantic look he hurried your direction, an expression of confusion and worry painting his face.

It wasn’t unusual of him to wait for you in the comfort of your balcony whenever he had the free time to do so, or the wish to talk to you. Your schedules weren’t always compatible, and you surely hadn’t the ability to reach out to him the same way it was in his own freedom. And while for most occasions you had grown used to it, today his presence, though comforting, had you jolt in your movement.

“Are you unwell? What is the matter?”

A supporting hand on your shoulder, his face to your level and searching for your eyes. You looked upset and beyond, frustrated almost if you Changbin had to tell, though he hadn’t seen you in such state nearly enough to be sure. Yet your body screamed discomfort, and he was ready to drop all if it meant to take it away.

“Help me out of this, I cannot breathe.”

A questioning look on the man, a blush then spreading over the dark of his skin when he realised what you were initiating; your back turned to face him, frenzy hands fiddling with the strings of your corset without success in opening the confines. You moved quickly, desperately, as though tormented deeply. Changbin stood a second or two before his own fingers found your back, entangling in your silk and tulle to grant you help; and utter shame and embarrassment coursed his body. It wasn’t intended intimacy, and he doubted you sensed the closeness altogether in your state of chaos. It was a cry for help from friend to friend and Changbin felt a fool to think of it as any different for your torment was surely great – and yet he was unable to overlook his lingering touch on your bare skin, the loosening ties when he successfully unknotted another part of your dress, when the heavy garment finally let go of your heated body and revealed the bit of white and lacen undergarments you hid underneath. Not only would the instance strike anyone in shock; you were unmarried and a princess, such proximity was looked down upon, said lightly. It was also Changbin’s heart that longed for his touch to stay where it laid, on the soft of your skin, even after he had discarded his eyes and turned his back to grant you privacy. It was his heart’s desire to not must and look away – the paining wish to be able to touch you without hesitation and in intimacy true, to undress you beyond the purpose of a helping hand. To account utter nearness because he’d be the man who’s promise it would be, he’d be the man to comfort and love you not behind closed doors.

Your shoes clacking against the stone porch of the balcony after a minute or two and Changbin had collected himself enough to face you anew. Your attire was casual, dress that could be a nightgown thrown over your body, and you took a seat next to Changbin, nearly as though your outburst was forgotten. Though your eyes didn't meet his, stood focused on the midday sky above — you were embarrassed or upset still for you nevee shyed away from locking gaze.

“I must apologise… I am not feeling too well.”

Your voice calm now, your face in absence of the panic it carried before. Yet Changbin’s worry didn’t dissipate, a deep frown painting his expression while he observed your figure. You looked in deep thought, gaze on the fingers in your lap now, fiddling with the silk of your dress. Lower lip between your teeth, occasional sighs of confusion, it might have been frustration also, sounding out into the midday air. Changbin gave you time, let you think of your words instead of pushing for an explanation for your distress – a habit of his you loved as with him there was absence of pressure.

It had taken moments of collecting thoughts and words before you felt you could speak up again. You had told Changbin the affairs that’d happened before you barged in on him, before fear and anxiety had started eating you alive. Your words had spilled out their confines in a manner Changbin had never seen before, you had let go of the tears you’d held back ever since your fathers words had settled in the dining room – Changbin had only ever seen you cry on one occasion prior to this, when you had gotten into a fight with your father in adolescent years and had waited for Changbin to appear on the balcony. Your emotions had overflown you that day, you had hugged and wetted Changbin’s shirt in a pond of tears, and maybe it had started back then. Maybe Changbin had loved you ever since that day, had realised it on your very balcony.

___ . ꫂ

You had felt Changbin’s warm hand on your own while you were telling him of Seungmin, of the marriage and your disagreement with it. He merely listened to your hearts’ spillings, hot tears building behind his own eyes which you failed to notice in your turmoil, yet Changbin didn’t dare fail in providing you greater comfort anyone else would be able to grant you. You had talked minutes upon minutes without a seeming rest, you had watched the sun set behind the horizon in navy colour as Changbin’s touch eased your mind. As his presence eased your panic, as his words of consolation eased your fear of future. You had locked gazes with his dark one, had seen your pain reflected within them, had sensed his wish to obtain the power in changing current circumstances for your very own satisfaction. You had sat with him in silence for uncountable hours, up until it’d been time for him to leave for you to rest at night, though reluctant from his side. You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, insomnia gnawing at you while your every thought was occupied with no other than your dearest friend. Your dearest friend who was the sole reason you had calmed after your burst of emotion, your dearest friend who would not shun revolutions if they were meant in your favour. You dearest friend who refused to leave your balcony, who insisted your every last tear dried up before he set foot towards his sleeping chambers.

You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, and had realised that this was love if you’ve ever seen it. That it’s been within your reach for as far back as you could remember, that you’d been a fool for not grasping out and taking an opportunity so grand it felt a punch to your gut. All too occupied with the very idea of love to have not realised it where it was provided, where it’s been hidden for you to find all time long; Changbin, your dearest friend. The man you were in love with.

The man who fought on battlefields for a living, the man who had neither power nor a name to him. The man who, even if you told your parents, could not be a match for you. Not an eligible one, anyways. The man who might not feel mutually towards you, all things considered. The man who – though you loved him, you were sure; it couldn’t be a feeling different – would never be any other than your dearest friend who’d wait for you on your porch, who’d gift a listening ear, who’d disappear when the sun set behind ever bright horizons.

The man who had been thinking of you during his own sleepless night after leaving you to your feelings in your room, the man who believed to have seen a change in your demeanour this very night. Who had believed to see a turn in your eyes and how they had observed him, with a new curiosity he’d never seen before. The man who might be wishfully thinking only, for you would never see him the way he saw you. The man who loved you so much it nearly pained him, the man who hated the prince of Empyrean with all his might.

___ . ꫂ

A week had passed since your father had announced the news of your expected marriage with Seungmin to the rest of the kingdom and anyone else in need of knowing, one week since you have realised your feelings for your dearest friend, the man you would never be able to call yours, not in a way you wished to – one week since you and Changbin had harvested an atmosphere which laid strange and thick above your heads, as though both of you knew of the others emotional turmoil, as though it only needed the fearless one to speak the words aloud – though both of you deeming the other to be of braver nature, and in a hurry a week had passed with few words spoken altogether.

You liked to believe that though the confession was wordless – his as much as yours – and though neither you nor Changbin dared to speak of the elephant in the room and regard to the subject of feelings and friendship your relationship per se hasn’t changed whatsoever. Liked to believe that despite your mutual wish for being more and conversing closer you yet were the same two friends that have known each other a decade, the same princess and the same knight that bore habit of meeting up in secret on a balcony sheltered from realities of cruel worlds. It was the very year long friendship, however, that didn’t allow your changed demeanour and the certain flusterness to go simply unnoticed. To be utterly aware that there was more on your minds than either of you would like to admit – it was a confession wordless, yet your bond went deeper as to not realise the two of you had changed. Behaviour and eyes surely spoke more than words could, now more than ever.

For Changbin, though aware of his feelings for you as long as he could recall, the cause in his wariness rooted in the knowledge that not in far future you’d be married and given away to another man, to a prince he himself could only ever dream to compete against. Seungmin had everything Changbin hadn’t, from a name to a kingdom to sheer power – Changbin merely triumphed with friendship and year long memories, whereas neither would bring you closer to you. Would neither be fit to be enough for you nor make the King himself approve nor make him the true rival against Seungmin he desperately died to be. It was against rules, it was against traditions, it was against own preferences – it was thoroughly hopeless, briefly put.

A week had passed since you and Changbin had been fools, cowardly to not exchange a word about the burden heavying your shoulders, wordlessly wandering to find an option in which both of you’d find happiness in – a week had passed since no ideas had come to mind, since you had seemed to have given up on love altogether. Because with every day there was less use to wish on it, every day a deeper understanding that you and Changbin might as well stay being cowards.

You were standing in the porcelain hall, uncomfortable dress hugging your body, suffocating your every breath. The room was utterly too filled, and the people were wholly too loud for your liking, talking and conversing about things you were unable to understand. You were making your way through the crowd, cautious to not appear snotty, careful to paint a smile onto your face whenever talked to. Your father had organised a ball with the neighbouring kingdom – both for you and Seungmin to befriend one another, and to send the troops farewell; other kingdoms have declared war, Empyrean and Noctifer enclosing to a unity to fight back against enemies.

Your supposed marriage had been made fully public and official not before every guest had settled in, the hall breaking into applaud and endless strings of congratulators followed the scenery. You’d been thanking everyone with smiles and nods, had talked to Seungmin for the first time since the plan had been settled – both of you flustered in a way most awkward, and quite frankly – you needed to leave the gathering. Needed to run until your feet gave out and your knees grew weak, until the tight corset around your bust finally suffocated you to faintness, needed to let the waters that collected themselves behind your lids gush free. It felt as though all and each townsperson and servant and maid and knight had finalised your very own future all in absence of your saying in it, people congratulating turning blind eyes to your wellbeing. In truth, it wasn’t solely your life on the line to be changed unasked – you haven’t had the bravery to ask the prince himself of his thoughts on the arrangement, for all you knew he could feel the very same about the deal as you did.

And then there was Changbin. Tidy black hair gliding between crowds, bell like laugh sounding out against the rest of voices. He was making his way through the place with his head held high, accepting kindest regards and farewells, wishes for success and victory like the high gentleman he was – you held him in your eyesight as often as you possibly could, only stable anchor against the mere crowd of strangers in the ballroom. His dark eyes met yours occasionally, whenever his own gaze danced across the room and over the heads of people only to find yours in the midst of it – the confession yet unspoken though your eyes told more than thousand words. Whenever your gazes met, you’d read his very own urge, to take your hand and escape from arrangements, citizens, princes and obligations. That his bitter glances towards Seungmin weren’t without meaning, that his eagerness for fight and protecting was milder than usual, that a hesitation marked him when the upcoming battle was mentioned by passing guests and former knights. That he wished to stay to win over your heart by spilling the feelings he had been surpassing for years on end only to avoid possible discomfort.

The confession was yet unspoken though you were convinced that Changbin loved you as much as you uncovered to love him, the man sure of your very own feelings as well – your change in demeanour, your longing gazes and lingering touches whenever on the balcony or in this very hall too telling to be ignored. It was undeniable, it was impossible.

You opened the door to your balcony in a manner shaken, hands moving fast to loosen the corset and allow for some air. The gathering had ended with a last speech of your father, thanking everyone dearly for their arrival, repeating previous news, wishing the troops the very best for the next days coming and speaking out his happiness and congratulations regarding your and Seungmin’s soon to be wedding. You had been drowning at that point, feeling as though water held your lungs captive and forbidding you to breathe – and then you’d seen Changbin, standing to look directly at you, from across the room. He had sensed your discomfort and had tried to flash you smiles and glances across the hall, had smirked and flared his eyes at you – it had given a reason for your father to scold him, it had given you a reason to flare him a warning gaze, had given your heart a reason to pain more than it was; your fate wasn’t written in the stars as it was, Changbin truly didn’t need to push it any further. In Changbin’s eyes he’d have done anything to paint a smile onto your features. Your brows had been furrowed, your eyes wet beneath layers of upheld strength – sillying across the room seemed like the least thing to do to brighten sunken mood.

You heard shuffling from beneath the stone porch, eyed down to find Changbin climbing up the firm vines that raked themselves up the entirety of your side of the palace. Heaving one leg over the railing for his body to follow suit, until he stood before you in all height. Changbin had asked to see you before he'd leave for uncountable months, and you had nodded in secretive manner when he had passed you whispering out his wish – not only did you carry a tradition to meet before every of his leavings, you both had a feeling that unspoken words between the two of you needed to be addressed, after all. If not for the sheer reason of the seriousness of the matter, then for the pact you’ve closed with Changbin, at the very starts of your friendship – Changbin’s occupation was a dangerous one, and any time he left with his troops he readied himself to never return — a mindset damaged if anything, though any matters you had shied away from over the time you had him to yourself were talked about before his discharge; it was a habit of greatest importance, because none of you would ever forgive yourselves for hiding a part of your minds and thoughts to the other; especially not when the subjects were as great as marriage and feelings unspoken.

“Hello.”

His voice breathless, and it hit you like coldest tides and angriest waves — just how much you would miss him. How much you have missed him any time prior, how it had always rooted from love rather than friendship. How you’d been utterly dumb to have never realised it, how you’d been a fool to only understand your feelings now, when it was most hopeless.

“Are you wholly insane?! You should be more careful shooting me glances when my father is around, he doesn’t approve of our friendship as it is.”

You made your way into your bedroom, the chilly air outside painting bumps across your skin. You despised when the troops left during cold temperatures. It gave you another reason to worry your brains out.

“I was merely looking at you, it is not my fault the mighty King does not like me because I am friends with his dear daughter.”

Sarcasm oozed from Changbin’s words while he made his way into your room, and you turned to shoot him a fiery glance. He wasn’t entirely wrong, though you knew that he was aware you weren’t either. You made seat on the plump chair before your vanity, red and golden stitching worn out over the years and looking fairly cheap against your gown, and Changbin stood in place behind you – he didn’t find himself in your own four walls all too often, always arguing that it was a sphere of privacy he didn’t want to step on. Every time his figure found itself beyond the safety of your balcony a feeling of tension laid itself into thin air, and you couldn’t help but paint red at the very thought of it.

He stood eyeing you through your vanity mirror, reflection milky and figures trembling, and you held his gaze. A million thoughts coursing your brain at the sight of him, though you only spoke out one of them.

“Sit down. Do not simply stand there.”

Voice snarky yet Changbin didn’t follow suit – keeping his space just by the door of the balcony, because truly, the only available seat next to the one you occupied was your bed. He’d never dare. So he continued standing, eyeing you through the vanity mirror, watching your face in the milky glass, bordered, as though trapped within the wooden carvings. A gaze so intense you nearly gave out, converted your eyes just shortly before turning in your seat and catching his eyes directly instead. There could be a million thoughts coursing his very own brain, ones that would never see the light of day, ones that you needed to hall out into the space between the two of you. It surely seemed like he was thinking a million things, lips caught between teeth and fingers playing with the hem of his attire, body utterly and wholly tense.

Yet you shuddered at the way he looked at you. Despite his nervous composure, his fidgeting body his eyes were darting, secure and meaningful on your own. He looked at you in a manner so deep you barely were familiar from him – it would have been scary if you didn't know him, if the room wasn’t so incredibly dense and thick in heavy tension. Tension you only could wonder about, could merely question. His eyes pierced through your own, prone to read the words written on the bloody skin of your heart. Unspoken words you yet needed to find courage for uttering – only one sentence was strong enough to break the barrier.

“Do not look at me like this.”

A huff out the man’s nose in a failed attempt to sound amused, and his eyes lost yours for only a second. A second in which you felt your world crumble within itself, in which you felt your haven slip past your fingers – for only one second, though. In the next Changbin’s eyes found yours again, carrying same expression, staring you down. Biting his lip, brows together in a look almost pleading. And your world seemed whole again.

“However am I looking at you?”

His voice tantalising, quiet. Not whispering yet the volume surprised you, the rasp that laid beneath it sent a wave of heat through the veins in your body. The room was in absence of further noise and the soundwaves of his words coursed the air long after he’d spoken them, giving you time to properly digest and clarify them. Changbin came nearer, closed the distance between your bodies inch by inch with steps slow. One by one you felt his presence further in your proximity, arose from your seat as slowly as he walked towards you. To face him eye to eye, to do anything other than sit and stare at him – because his gaze and the expression within was knocking you off your feet and punched remaining breath out your lungs, got your head and the thoughts inside it spinning and galloping in speed you didn’t know was possible.

Until he stood before you, only inches between your bodies. Yet merely looking at you, holding your eyes hostage with his own. You didn’t dare to back away first, nor did you wish to – you had always felt butterflies in the pits of your stomach when in such proximity to him, you’ve simply been too foolish to understand their fluttering about. Been too foolish to notice the seduction his lips drew, whenever he talked and laughed and said his ever same goodbyes, too foolish to regard your jumping heart whenever his breath fanned over you during hugs and late night whispers. You felt it on your lips, hot and fast, scattered and Changbin’s eyes beamed south – to your lips possibly, or maybe he needed to convert his gaze to recollect his composure – before you held contact anew. Tension in the room thick enough to scratch with simply a nail, bodies hotter now than you’d ever felt, ever known.

And then you understood; the heat radiating in between your bodies, nervous eyes flickering between gazes and lips, hands sheeting in a layer of sweat — the very moment written in books, the one that dared to steal the protagonist’s last breath — the moment before the kiss. You’ve never stood before said moment yourself though felt it must be it, couldn’t be anything else. Changbin’s utter body shaking in its place and he seemed like waiting, not leaning it nor pursuing — he waited for you to give the go and you did with a nod. A small one, barely noticeable though you knew Changbin took said notice — couldn’t not to, given the lack of space between you, the lack of strangeness between your personas. And the nod was all the salvation you needed, waited for. Changbin’s lips met yours in the very kiss you’ve read about, clumsy though in passion and thorough adoration. Mouths shy to open yet eager and letting the other in, tongues dancing in ways you wondered was possible. Eyes shut and your hands carefully around Changbin’s middle, unsure where to hold them and suddenly shy to touch the man at all. You pulled away, in fear maybe, realisation surely — what you were doing was inherently wrong. You knew of it and it was the truth — promised already to a man and kissing another, getting lost in his touch so tantalising and desirable. What you were doing was inherently wrong, and you didn’t care for it. You looked past Changbin’s worried eyes, silent questioning on your wellbeing and hesitation and you leaned in again, closing distance for another kiss laced now with confidence. Your hands not shying away from exploring, Changbin’s own touch following a path on your every inch of skin.

The contact of lip on lip and hands on bodies so unfamiliar yet you’ve grown to realise it was all you’ve been craving for, with no other than the man in your arms. The man that would leave in a matter of hours, would be off for months on end. Would come back long after you’d married another man – yet none of crucial thoughts wanted to stick for too long. You focused on Changbin, heart and thoughts full of him and the very way he felt against you, the very way his lips moved against yours in a manner less awkward now, tongues less shy and hands more eager. You allowed yourself to sink into the feeling and float within it, feeling as sweet and thick as golden honey smeared against lips, million times more pleasant and addicting in manners dangerous.

Changbin guided you. Barely realising at first though you were moving blindly with his help, stumbling helplessly until the pair of you made place on the bed. Air tensing further as you locked eyes for hour long seconds, and you were back, lips on lips in sync and hands following the rhythm. Shy to go any further than that because surely, having reached this point already overstepped a million sins you left to worry about later – not only this, you were also unsure of what could possibly unfold if you gave into the longing your entire body ached with, the urge for something greater and bigger. To give yourself wholly to the man you loved, to have him wholly to yourself in return, to grow into unison and remain side by side for the rest of days.

Changbin’s eyes shut in pained expression, fingers digging into layers of clothing he wished would vanish beneath his hands. He wished for you, longed for you yet couldn’t have you, not like he needed. His eyes daring to draw tears while his mouth never ended to dance against yours, with forces so great it surprised you.

And then he backed away. Your hands in his hair creating messes and his own on your hips, igniting impossible fires against the layers of your attire, two pairs of pupils blown out into orbs of blackness, chests heaving, lips bitten. Your face asking a million questions Changbin seemed unable to answer, and both of you stood in your positions to catch your breaths, to regain composure.

“Y/N… I must leave.”

In your years of friendship, you have never heard such weakness in Changbin’s voice, the secure shell he’d kept surrounding him breaking bit by bit until his very heart was left for you to tend. It weakened you, it pained and wounded you like nothing had ever before, and though water collected itself behind your lids you swore to not crumble before him. To hold your head high and save your tears for after he’s left.

It was a confession wordless and yet all was clear. You nodded, watery eyes and feelings unspoken yet without need to be addressed while Changbin’s lips found themselves on yours for the very last time, and you watched him make his way down the vines along your side of the castle, his kiss goodbye lingering on your lips and his remaining warmth surrounded you to shield against the cold, long after he was gone. You had stood on your balcony for a while longer, eyes fixed on the corner Changbin had rounded before disappearing from your view. His step’d been slow, unstable. He had turned around a last time, had sent a flying kiss and a first tear had fought its way past your lids. Many’d followed and all’d been silent, water down your cheeks and dampening your dress while you made no sound at all. That night you didn’t sleep, didn’t close your eyes for a minute. Had waited helplessly for the night to end, staring holes into your ceiling, had listened to Changbin’s troops readying their horses and setting off. You had left open the balcony door, cold breeze against bare skin a reminder of what you’ve lost. Tears had been rolling past the sides of your eyes, endless silent waters you hadn’t bothered stopping. Your body’d felt strange, not your own and all too tight, as though there’d been no room catching breath despite no confines caging you in. A part of you had left that night, a part so great you feared it’s lack would numb you out for the rest of days. Would numb you out regarding royal deals, would numb you out regarding Seungmin and the marriage to him – and maybe, you thought, maybe it wasn’t all too bad, then. Maybe the numbing would keep you from hurting, from drawing blood at your heart. Maybe numbing would allow you to keep this night and Changbin in anchor memory, as a source to sanity against unfulfilling duties – maybe numbing was the only option to keep loving the dearest friend you had while promised to another.

And numbing you needed. When not weeks later you stood in a white gown, before candlelit altar and suit dressed prince next to you in position, and when you haven’t heard of the troops nor Changbin in far too long to possibly be a good sing. When a letter had appeared on your porch three weeks into marriage informing you that war was lost, that half the soldiers would not be able to return; identified corpses written out below the notice, some names you were familiar with, Changbin missing on the list of lost lives – reassuring only little, because he hadn’t yet been back home, either. No returning knight had been helpful in giving you message about his whereabouts – the battle had been too messy, Changbin long not seen by anyone. Numbing you needed when two months into pregnancy you had never heard about the man again, the man you’d called your dearest friend and most secretive love, when years into retirement and elderly forgetting his face stayed an anchor memory against the laws of nature, his darken solid eyes meeting yours in loving gazes when you only sealed them.

taglist: @writerracha @princelingperfect @ggundeuri @orithyia-eriphyle @vumiixlyy @luvrhyune @hopeladybug @misitmoonlight @baldi-2 @baddecisionsworld @thetaytayray @midsoulz @hyunverse @realbangchan @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @rachabreathing @nixtape-foryou @ameliesaysshoo @jisungsdaydreamer @https-skzology @day6andetcetera @linonyang @hgema @seoli-16 @bokk-minnie @foliea @amagumorii @nhyunn @ravyaryn @ink-spilled-stars @himarose @sherryblossom @shakalakaboomboo @r-arrh @siriusly1 @catwonwoo @suebinn @foxinnie8

[sevngmin148]

this doesn’t have the notes it deserves and i’m gonna need everyone to read it immediately tbh

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : pregnancy ; miscarriage ; major angst ; Word Count : 3.5k

“Felix!” You squealed as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his nose nuzzling against your cheek as the softest chuckle filled your ears that his lips were right beside. Kisses were peppered against any surface he could reach as he swayed your body’s side to side, your own instinctively relaxing against him. “Remember what I said, right?” You murmured, tilting your head up to glance at him, his eyes twinkling with excitement even though he was dramatically pouting at you. 

“I know, I know.” He grumbled, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles against your stomach. “No telling STAY until the 5th month…” He sighed, his chin falling against your shoulder. “I’m just so excited, and I know they’ll be just as excited as I am when they hear about it.” 

You knew he was excited, you had recorded his reaction when you had surprised him with the news that you were pregnant on his birthday. The little “Congratulations Dad” card slipped in between the birthday card that you had gotten him, and you were so glad that you had decided at the last minute to film him opening the card. His reaction was genuine and precious, and the tears that filled his eyes as he looked up at you with a questioning smile, awaiting your reassurance that it wasn’t just some prank before jumping off the couch and engulfing you in a hug… It had all been enough to bring tears to your own eyes as you continued to assure him that yes, you really were pregnant. 

Sometimes you felt that he was even more excited than you were, and you were only just now entering your 3rd month. Felix had all but started the nursery for the baby by now, the names had already been picked out, and while you wanted the news to be kept from the fans just a little while longer, he was all too eager to tell the guys who shared in his joy about a new family member. He was the best partner to have, when you were feeling your worst and the symptoms were downright awful, he was always there to do his best to help you feel better. That is, until he had to go on tour. 

The announcement of the upcoming world tour was unexpected, and even Felix seemed a little taken back by it. The last thing he planned on doing during your pregnancy was traveling around the world, but you tried to think positively about it, hoping that your positivity would brush off on him and he’d be less reluctant to leave. 

“So you’re sure you don’t need me to stay here with you?” Felix posed the question as he stood by the front door, a duffle bag swung over his shoulder. Even though the question was meant to make it seem like you’re the one who’d need him to stay, both of you knew that he wanted you to say yes, he wanted you to give him any reason you could to stay with him. As much as you wanted him to stay though, you knew that it would be selfish, especially when so many fans wanted to see him. 

“I’m sure, babe.” You said the words through little bouts of giggles as you leaned against the wall, waiting to say those final goodbyes before he was gone. It used to be extremely hard to watch him leave, and you’d usually be the one trying to make up excuses just to delay his departure, but you were used to it now. It’s not that it wasn’t sad still, but after 4 years together, you were better at it, you both were, and you had figured out how to work around the time differences so that you could call each other and at least video chat once a day. This time would be no different, you both knew that. “Plus, by the time you finish the tour and you’re able to come back home, I’ll be close to 6 months, you won’t have to wait so long.” 

His head nodded, and as if you had just told him you were pregnant again for the first time, his eyes gleamed with just something else to get excited over. “Alright… You’re right, and then I only have to wait 3 months… Perfect… I don’t like waiting… I just want to meet them…” His eyes formed into thin crescents as his smile widened, his bag dropping to the floor as he walked over to you, his hands cupping your cheeks before pressing a deep kiss to your lips, the suddenness of it giving you a headrush. “I’ll miss you, angel… Keep yourself safe…” He lowered down just enough to brush his fingers along your stomach before giving it a small kiss that had your heart swelling. “And you stay safe too, my little nugget. Don’t give your mom too much trouble.” He rested his forehead against your tummy for a second, letting out a soft sigh, one last opportunity for you to just tell him to stay, but the silence out lasted the opportunity and he slowly got back to his feet, smiling softly to you. “Make sure you send me daily belly pictures, and video call me at doctors appointments so I can be there… Okay? Please?” 

Even with your reassurance, you knew that this was hard for him. This was the most exciting time of his life, not just career wise, but now at home as well. His family was growing, and he had to leave you when you were most vulnerable. It made him feel awful that he wouldn’t be there for you, and no amount of it’s okay’s would make him feel any less awful. It would be rough, but not without reward. He knew that once he got home he’d be with you again, and he wouldn’t have to wait as long either. 

“Felix, we’re about to go on…” Hyunjin whispered, his hand waving in front of the younger member's face to get his attention away from the video call that he was currently on with you. “We have like five minutes, and I know that you’re not going to just hang up on her, you need five minutes just to say goodbye because you do that back and forth thing that’s really cringy.” 

Felixs face scrunched up with embarrassment as his cheeks were flushed a light pink, his head turning to look at Hyunjin. “I do not take five minutes just to say goodbye, and we do not do the cringy back and forth thing. We promised we wouldn’t be like that…” His head quickly turned back to the screen when he heard your snicker that you attempted to muffle. “We don’t do that… Do we?” 

Your lips pursed and slightly turned up at the corners. “What if I said it totally isn’t cringe and I love our 5 minute back and forth goodbyes.” You posed, but your laugh sounded through the speakers as his head fell back and he let out a groan, especially when Hyunjin started laughing too, patting the younger man's shoulder and giving him an I told you so before walking off. “You really need to get out there though…” 

Now that Hyunjin was out of the room, Felix could return to the matter of the call, and as annoying as his hyung was at the moment, it was a welcomed distraction from what the two of you were talking about. “Call me… text me when you get to the doctors… let me know what’s going on, please.” He whispered, his stress sky high, the first time in a while that he’s felt this way before a show and it wasn’t even due to going in front of thousands of fans that he felt this way. 

“I will…” You sighed softly, and even though he could see it in your eyes, in the way you sat on the couch, you were just as worried as he was, you still tried your best to ease his mind and comfort him. “It’s probably nothing though. I’m sure it’s normal. The doctors are probably gonna think I’m silly for coming in for something as small as this.” Your weak chuckle filled the otherwise silent room, but Felix couldn’t laugh with you, he was panicking, and the worst part was that he was on the complete other side of the world right now when he wanted nothing more than to be with you, especially right now. 

“I’m serious, angel… I don’t care if I’m in the middle of dancing. Call me, let me know what’s going on.” He said, more sternly now as the knocks came against his door letting him know time was up. “I love you, I love you so much… And I love our little nugget too. Be safe, okay? Promise me that you’ll be safe, that you’ll let me know.” 

Your head nodded quickly as you blew him a quick kiss. “I’ll text you, pinky promise. I love you more. Call me when you’re done.” You whispered, and he watched you through the phone, wishing that he could hold you, that he could kiss you, that one push of that little red button at the bottom of the screen wouldn’t make your face disappear from his view. The stupid tour was keeping him away from you, and while you tried to hide it from him, he knew that you wanted him there now, you needed him there more than anything right now. 

Felixs mind was completely overtaken by thoughts of you, thoughts of his child as he stood on stage. He couldn’t even focus on the choreography, his steps out of place and he constantly bumped into the other members who, in any other situation, would have gotten annoyed by his continuous mistakes, but they knew he was lost in his own mind, in his own worries about what was going on back at home. 

It took a while for him to even begin to calm down, but the lack of buzzing in his back pocket was, in a way, more comforting than it usually would be. Things were fine, that’s what he kept telling himself, what the guys kept telling him whenever they passed him on the stage. Back pats and intermittent hugs were common, trying to keep him from thinking too much about what was happening or what could be happening. 

What he didn’t know was that back at home in the small little room with the flowers and the smiley faces on the ceiling, you were curled up on the hospital bed, eyes bloodshot from crying as you held the last ultrasound picture you’d receive from this pregnancy that had abruptly ended with no real reason. 

You didn’t call, not yet, not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to deliver the news to him when you knew he was already worried about you, when you knew he was standing on stage in front of thousands of fans. If you told him, he’d definitely run off the stage just to talk to you, trying to find the next available flight to make it home. 

So no, you didn’t call him, but you shot him a quick text, hoping that he wouldn’t check it until after the concert was over. “I’m so sorry, Lixie… Nugget is gone…” Was all the text said, truthfully, you didn’t know how to put it. How were you supposed to tell him something so awful when he was thousands of miles away? All you wanted to do was be held by him and cry with him over the future that was snatched away from the both of you without any warning. 

The vibration in his pocket was something that he had been waiting for, his hand quickly reaching into the back of his jeans to pull it out, pretending that he was about to take a picture. The smile that had been on his face at the thought of the new ultrasound pictures he’d be receiving quickly faded when he read the message notification on his lock screen. 

It took everything, everything for him to not collapse in the middle of the stage right then and there, his eyes already brimming with tears as his arms fell limp at his sides. Fans continued to cheer, adrenaline and excitement emanating from all of them, but he was in his own bubble, his sad, dark cloud filled bubble that all of those joyous emotions bounced off of. 

“Felix?” Chan was the first to notice, rushing over to him and quickly pulling him off to the side of the stage, and it was only then, once out of the spotlight, that Felix allowed himself to crumble under the crashing wave of emotions that washed over him. “Wh-What happened? Talk to me, Felix.” 

But he could only shake his head as the tears rolled down his freckled cheeks, his mouth opened but no words coming out, only small gasps as a shaky hand held out his phone to the leader. What was he supposed to do now? He felt like a failure, he failed to be there for you, to be the boyfriend that would always stand beside you even during the hardest times. This was the worst time for both of you, yet you were going through it alone. 

At this point all the other members were staring at him, the entire venue had fallen silent as every one there focused their attention on the crying man that was just slightly out of view. “I-I don’t know what to do… hyung… What do I do?” Felix whimpered, glassy eyes staring up at the man who, for the first time, didn’t have much of a suggestion. Chan didn’t know how this felt, none of them did, none of the other guys had ever been through something like this, let alone so far away. 

“If you need to go home, then go home, Felix.” Was all Chan could offer, a firm hand planted on the younger man's shoulder. “Y/N needs you way more than we do right now, way more than STAY needs you…” And Felix knew that, the problem was that he didn’t know the first thing to do once he got home. Of course, he’d hold you and he’d tell you that it would be okay even though he’d know that both of you felt the complete opposite of okay. 

How was he even supposed to step foot inside of his home when it would just be a constant reminder of the child that he had already prepared for, a child that he loved so much before even seeing them, a child that had been stolen away from both him and you before either of you got to even meet them. How was he supposed to keep composed enough to even be there for you? 

Even if he didn’t decide to go home, he wouldn’t be able to continue performing. He couldn’t even pretend to be excited, let alone pretend to actually care about the show right now. You, the love of his life, were experiencing what he could only imagine to be the worst possible thing that you could ever have to go through, and there was no way in hell he’d leave you alone any longer than you needed to be. Sure, he didn’t know the first thing he’d say to you, he didn’t even know what to think for himself to calm his own emotions, but the least he could be is there. 

“STAY…” He whispered into the mic, not wanting them to worry if he just ran off stage without a word, and he didn’t want to put the weight on Chans or any of the other members shoulders. They’d have to finish the show, the rest of the tour without him, the least he could do is say goodbye and apologize. “There’s… some things… going on at home right now for me… And I need to get back home to help take care of them…” He choked out the words, his eyes glistening under the spotlight that was casted down on him. “I’m so sorry… I promise to make it up to you when I’m able to… But I need to go now.” 

There were a few sounds of disappointment coming from the crowd, but he knew that the fans, the real fans, would understand and they wouldn’t hold it against him. He didn’t even wait for the words of the other guys as he rushed off stage, fingers working quickly to undo the mic that he was wired with. Now that that was over with, you were the only thing on his mind. 

Tears fell down his face in the solitude of first class on the plane that carried him back home, and most of the flight he slept, unable to keep his eyes open once they got too puffy from crying. He felt like the dictionary definition of a train wreck right now, the makeup that had been put on him before the concert had yet to be cleanly removed, the small amount of eyeliner and eyeshadow blotchy under his eyes from wiping them too much. He didn’t care who might see him or the photos that would come out if any were taken. One day he’d tell the world about what happened, and that day they’d understand why he looked this way, but for now, their words would mean nothing to him, their reports were pointless and false. They could say anything they wanted, nothing would ever hurt him as much as the small two sentence text that he had gotten on stage. 

He knew that you’d be upset, he had, in some sense, prepared for that, but he couldn’t have possibly prepared himself enough for the heartbreaking image of you curled up on the couch, your arms wrapped around your stomach and your entire body shuddering from the lingering sniffles that came after your sobs. Your head slightly lifted at the sound of his entrance, both of your eyes bloodshot as they met from across the room. “I’m… I’m so sorry, angel…” He said softly as he made his way over to you, dropping down onto the floor beside you on the couch. You were surrounded with balled up tissues that had been used to cry into and wipe whatever tears clung to your cheeks. 

Seeing you from a distance had been heartbreaking, but now seeing you up close, the way your upper lip was raw and puffy from roughly wiping your nose, your hair dampened by the tears that fell into it, your eyes barely even able to open from how much you’ve cried… It was heart shattering, like the broken pieces that had been left over were now being stomped on and kicked around. “They d-don’t know… why… it h-happened…” You shakily said between shortened breaths, your lips chapped from your open mouthed breathing. “You… were s-so ex-excited… and… I’m s-sorry… Lix…” 

He quickly shushed you, his fingers quickly brushing away the loose strands of hair that clung to your forehead. “It’s not your fault… It’s not…” He cooed, leaning his forehead against yours as his hands moved down to cup your cheeks. “And I’m not going to leave you. I promise, I’m going to stay by your side no matter what…” It was a solid promise, one that he wasn’t going to break. If you wanted to stay on the couch the entire time, he’d stay seated on the floor beside you. If you wanted to lay in bed all day and be held by him, he’d do that if it meant that even the slightest bit of pain you were feeling right now would subside. 

This is why he’s here… It’s for you and solely for you, because even though the pain he’s feeling right now is bad, he can only imagine how much harder it was for you. You had been told the news while you were by yourself, you had to process those emotions on your own, and then you had to go back to the empty house and continue to process those emotions by yourself. You had been the one carrying the baby, and even if it was only for a short 3 months, you had already loved the baby. Felix had caught you on many occasions smiling to yourself as your hand absentmindedly circled over your stomach. Now it was empty, you were empty. He had left for tour, excitedly awaiting coming home and only having to wait 3 more months to meet his child, and now that child was just… gone. There was no family to look forward to, not any time soon, not anymore. Home is where his heart is, you are his heart, you had it entirely. He loved coming home usually… But right now, home is where hurt is, hurt and devastation and shattered dreams. 

[vvamp3]

#! — ᴍᴇᴢᴢᴀɴɪɴᴇ | scb

genre: fluff, angst (tiniest bit suggestive)

pairing: knight!changbin x afab!princess!reader

wc: 9.6k

warnings/ contents: slow burny, arranged royal marriage stuff, forbidden love, friends to lovers, chracter death

note: this is my fic for @hyunverse 'war of hearts (until kingdom come)' collab!! it was SO fun to write this and especially with all the ppl participating in the collab, make sure to check all of em out!! this was my first every royal au thing to write so be kind on me 🤞🏻🫶

Ten in the morning. You had bathed, had gotten your hair prepared for the day, had been put into an outfit, too tight and insufferable. Had eaten breakfast, had conversed shortly with your parents, catching up on the latest news, boring and little informative. You had gone back to your room, had taken out a book to read which you couldn’t concentrate on. All too little happened, far too little time has passed.

Meet me after supper, by your balcony.

Changbin’s signature under the short note, and the message drove you to insanity. You hadn’t seen him in a while, his work occupying him and his time more often than it was to your liking; knights came home bruised up and injured, their horses distressed and tired. Changbin being the grand commander of his battalion never missed to take the most damage – the determination and his well-intended, devoted persona, as much as you loved him for it, always prone to trouble him.

Changbin and you had started a friendship a few years back. It was unlikely, unusual, for a princess and a knight to be as close knitted as the two of you were. Yet, when Changbin had started to work directly under your father, the king himself, and had gotten higher in his position of knight, you and him had chances upon chances to converse and mingle; be it on royal circulars or ascots, when discussing other kingdoms and the safety of your own, or inner economy and politics. It had been impossible to not acquaint the other, and your characters had seemed to connect naturally, much like two pieces of a puzzle, seamless, fitting to the other. Changbin was one you held dear to your heart, one you wouldn’t bear to lose – though your father didn’t approve of it. Had warned you countless times that your relation was of ill quality, that his direct commander was of no good influence to his child, no one you should converse with let alone call a friend – hence why tonight — much like all night, any time he wished to see you, speak to you —, Changbin offered your balcony as a place to catch up. You barely met elsewhere whenever you did, as it was by far the only place in the palace not watched by soldiers – those of who had told on you and Changbin often enough in the past for the two of you to grow cautious and careful. Seeing each other in the halls or the ballroom occasionally yet never speaking much, only conversing with eyes and sheepish smiles, reserving actual conversations when you were in lonesome. When it was the two of you only, left to talk about deeper-lying subjects than the ones you were used to with people other, than Changbin ever had the chance to. On your balcony, it was always the very pure of you both; no facets, no obligations. Him and you, in your most utter nature.

You missed your friend dearly.

Supper couldn’t have come any slower. You had been dreading the day and wishing for night, had watched the sun set behind the horizon ever so slowly, taking its sweet time – at least your balcony had always had the prettiest view. The book you had been hoping to finish today was lain forgotten on your vanity, about half read. Your mind had been elsewhere the entire evening, maids having to repeat questions second times to ask of your opinion on hair or attire choices, and you’d apologised each and every time. Your mind's been always in a frenzy when Changbin returned from the battlefield. The utter worry you bore for him, the one you’d call your best of friends, was more than you could manage with a clear mind, the notice of his duties calling always prone to set your heart to uneasy condition, only tranquillising when you saw the man in flesh and bones and with lack of harsh bruises, preferably. Though that was seldom the case.

“Might anything be bothering you, child?”

Your fathers stern voice, and you jolted up from the confines of your thoughts. You had only been poking around in your food, appetite lost if there was any to begin with, thoughts neither in the current nor on any subject talked about, thus not participating in your parents’ conversations. You blinked some before meeting his eyes, managing a smile apologetic.

“Yes- no. Nothing bothering me, I apologize. I’m perfectly fine.”

You’d always been a bad liar. You gifted another smile, hoping the matter would be dropped. You weren’t one to be untruthful to your parents, always speaking your mind when needed, standing your ground when necessary. Though when the name Seo Changbin fell, polite talking always turned into agitated speech and angry voices, and you were all but in the mood for such; so you kept the reason for your state a secret.

“I have just been feeling quite faint since morning, perhaps it’s the weather.”

Going back to your merely untouched food, the additional information surely leaving them convinced. It wasn’t a lie, either, much to your dismay; you had been feeling rather ill, with worry and anticipation for your friend, though neither King nor Queen would have to know of it.

“Oh dear, then maybe you shall be able to rest upstairs, no? Leave the plate full, honey, hurry to bed.”

Your mother had always been the softer of the two. You had grown old without siblings, an only child, your mother always the closest person to your heart. Which never meant you didn’t love your father dearly; yet the bond connecting you and the Queen had always been the stronger one.

Your eyes found hers, despite not having expected her offer you took it gratefully all the same. You knew your father wasn’t fond of your leaving early; arguing that it was high time to start being raised a Queen, a soon to be one, and excusing yourself due to nuisances such as sheer faintness was all but justifiable. Your mother shot her husband a glare, though, comforting hand on his arm; signalling that it was well. You left with a quick bow of the head, hurrying and increasing your step only after the vast doors of the main hall had closed behind you - your father preferred you walked around the hall in acceptable tempo.

Your shoes sounded up in quick manner against the tile floors of the halls, ricocheting against the tall space. Your dress threw waves at your fastened feet, breaking in tides against your figure. It was dark, corridors lit only by occasional candle; it was enough to see staff pass by, maids and already returned soldiers, and whenever they were in proximity you decreased your step. All greeting with a nodded “Princess.”, before passing by to their own affairs, and you merely nodded back, impatient to eventually, finally reach the comfort of your room, your beloved balcony. You weren’t certain if Changbin would be awaiting you already, he was always the last to finish his business with his men, managing to rest later than he’d like himself. He was commander after all, so, prone to overworking.

You opened your dark wooden doors in haste, making room and lighting a candle before struggling with the matches, your hands shaking, your breath hiccuping. Opening the glass doors of your balcony – to see Changbin standing by the edge of it, strong, linen covered arms propped up against the stone railings, shoulders hunched over in manner relaxed, observing eyes watching the view. It had always been a favourite of him, simply laying eyes on the vast space of the palace from above, on nature all around. He said it to be calming, especially in your proximity.

“Changbin.”

The man turned at the sound of your voice, away from his dearly loved sky and to face your eyes. Only now you were granted the ability to see the light bruises painting around his eyes, red, angry scratches by his chin and jaw; though you didn’t have time to pay mind to it just yet, only registering his presence without much thinking – you needed a hug, and if it was the last thing you could wish for.

He’d always had a steady build, and falling into his arms had perpetually granted stability you sought anywhere around, in the loneliness of your occupation and the worries of your future, stability no one except him was ready to grant. It took his steady arms and pouding chest, his pumping heart which seemed to increase in tempo whenever near you, for your mind to come to ease. It needed him on your balcony for you to forget about duties and crowns. With him on your balcony you were you, in your simplest form.

It took both of you several moments to finally discharge from the hug, and only after your bodies parted you got to inspect the state of your friend. Your fingers painted over the velvet under his right eye, only imagining the sting it caused. Your thumb caressed the fresh scratch right by his chin, your brows merely scrunching at the pain that must have caused – you would take it all from him, if you could. Would bear it all with him if it was any possible, if it meant shortage of his aching. It wounded anew whenever you’d see him after returning from the battlefield – you were well aware of his own wish for this profession – wanting to fight for what’s good laid in his nature – yet your own desire to know him safe and sound stemmed from egotism you never believed dissipating. He was your closest friend at last, imagining him in anguish of any kind cut at your own heart deeper than anything other was able to.

“Do not look at me like this. I am fine.”

Changbin. Always the personified reassurance, always the calm anchor that never allowed you to seed worry for him. That would give his life to keep you safe, that would sacrifice himself if it meant knowing you in happiness. It was sheer impossible for you not to bear worry. Though you always disguised, for his sake.

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”

And with that you fell into his arms once more. Changbin embraced you wholly, holding your body so tight to his it was nearly uncomfortably suffocating, though you’d never dare to mind. The man buried his face in your nape, keeping there for a moment or two before parting again. An exchanged smile before a laugh followed, a laugh filled with relief, with reassurance; not one of Changbin’s departments was ever safe, no given guarantee he’d be able to return at all. Left and forgotten for times end on the battlefield; it was always a scenario open, one that you feared during sleepless nights.

Yet he was here, returned this time, like he always did, always promised.

“So, tell me everything.”

You rumpled up your heavy dress, wishing to change out of it as the setting sun indicated you’ve been wearing cottoned corset and linen silk for far longer than your liking allowed. You settled on your designated metallic chair, Changbin took seat on the other one. You’ve taken ownership over both a few years back – the maids and cooks in the kitchen still asked about the mystery of their disappearance, and you and Changbin found amusement in it each time. You had been practically children when you had snuck into the hot chambers, hiding from guards and personnel and getting hold of two cheap looking sitting attires because sitting on the stone porch of the balcony had become unbearable over time. You had sprinted up as fast as it was possible back then, had rushed with adrenaline and laughed your hearts out at the relief of not getting caught, of succeeding with your master plan. You had set the chairs on the balcony facing the vastness of the palace, just so you could have a look onto the sunset if you wished. The chairs haven’t moved since – no guard ever checked the privacy of your own four walls let alone the tiny balcony, so you’ve been sure your dear possessions would be safe and sound there for as long as you wanted them to be.

“You wish for me to tell you everything? Princess, I’m sure you have far more precious information about the happenings within the palace than my ever boring talk about the battlefield.”

Typical of him to deny his worth, and you huffed in bitter amusement. Your heart felt warm with the name he chose to call you; princess. He had started to drop your name and call you by your rank in fun initially, though the word contained in his addressing you, never without a slight teasing behind. You liked hearing the title out of his mouth the most. For with him it didn’t come with a notion of fearful respect, but utter friendship instead.

“Oh, I have told you the battlefield isn’t boring. Brutal, yes, but I am not weak, you are well aware.”

He was aware, though it wasn’t in Changbin’s own enjoyment to tell stories of war. It was his passion and well-earned duty to fight and protect, yet he always despised the idea of talking about matters of violence outside said matter itself; because he knew you would never fully understand, would never fully support said wanting and needing to fight and protect, because it didn’t seem fit to discuss such cruciality, with you specifically. Not because he thought you weak – but because he cherished you. Adored you. Loved you. Because his emotions for you grew deeper than artificial talk about duties and doings, politics and battlefields. Because every word he’d tell would make him wish you’d say instead, drinking up your utterances like the sweetest wine, following the soundwaves of your voice as though visualising them. When with you, talk about himself grew null, the wish to emerge in conversation about you sprouted prompt and plump within his chest, like ripe fruits on greenest bushes.

“I am aware, and yet your stories are far more exciting. I wish to hear them all – any news on your father? I hope you hadn’t started a fight while I was gone, you’re still on good terms? Oh, and how is Jisung? I haven’t got the chance to talk to him yet, is he doing well?”

Question after question, simply to hear you talk. And talk you did. Talked beyond answering Changbin’s questions, talked about this and that and oh how boring it’s been without him, talked until your guts hurt from laughing and until the sun started setting behind the saffron horizon, until first nightbirds began singing their lullabies. Until you warned Changbin to make haste and leave – when the clock struck ten your maids would come up, to get you ready and washed up for bed. Both of you reluctant, both of you hesitant to let go of the evening hug you shared, arms around the other, wrapped closely to hold body against body. It was you who pulled apart with a sigh, one so heavy it cut at Changbin’s heart. How he wished he could stay on this very balcony till midnight and beyond, could lay beneath those navy duvets of your bed with you. How he wished to be closer to you eternally, physically and emotionally, however humanly and inhumanly possible. Changbin was aware he was grasping at straws – a soldier and a princess would be one kind of a marriage across the entirety of the kingdom, having never heard of such love made believe it didn’t exist. And yet Changbin climbed over the stoned railings in reluctance, said a last goodbye with saddened eyes though you had disappeared behind your curtains too early to catch it. You were blissfully unaware of Changbin’s tragic plight – the man wasn’t all too sure if it was a good rather than a bad thing. He was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved, the life you wished for. That marriage to a prince was an inevitable prediction in near future, that your heart didn’t burn for him like his did. And yet his mind’s contents were images of you when he laid in his bed that night, replaying in painful reminders until he had fallen asleep, at last.

___ . ꫂ

“Seungmin? As in Kim Seungmin? – Father, you cannot be serious.”

The sweet alluring euphoria you had felt rushing through your limbs the day prior had made way for even greater disappointment the following morning; breakfast had been served at ten as per usual, your family containing three had talked newest reports, focusing on especially the freshly returned troupes. Changbin hadn’t told you yesterday – as he seldom did – that though his battalion suffered minor loss the return hadn’t succeeded in whole unison. Soldiers had let their lives on fields beyond the kingdom, would never return to families, would live on in sole memory. Your father revealed such fragile information as though it was any other occurrence, simply an additional point of his list of news, as though his heart didn’t beat faster or tore in two at the sheer cruciality of the fact – your mother barely looked pained, continuing to spoon at her soup as though lost lives were barely a vanity as any other. You wondered if their detachment sprouted from year long experience, and you wondered and feared if your own heart would ever carve itself to a shape theirs had long accustomed. Not of stone, yet used to tragedy.

It was only after a break of short nature that your father discarded his silvern spoon by his right, turning towards you, waiting until you have met his gaze. Stopped eating yourself you listened to his following words, words you wanted to rip out his throat before they had the chance to escape his mouth, before they had the power to embed themselves to reality.

“Yes, Prince Kim Seungmin. His father and I had been conversing through letters and seemed it best fitting to arrange a marriage between him and you. He is most eligible, you would make a great pair. Not mentioning the power our kingdoms will have combined – you truly have no reason to be upset.”

The words like a heavy whip against your body, the spoken death sentence seeding rotten in your brain. Marriage was inevitable in your position and occurred quickly when only set in stone – meaning if your father’s decision was ultimate, you had weeks, at best, to count before walking down the aisle, before spending a life with a man you merely known by name. Your parents had never seemed a flaw in such arrangements, never understanding your wish for love, and to marry after it. After all, their marriage had been arranged and their parents’ was – mutual liking at best was unavoidable when you only reached the point of living together, and love was a mere privilege that would simply come to those who let it.

Only you never befriended their worldview, never believed the marriages they’d speak of were ones of true admiration. Admittedly, you wouldn’t be able to know better – you were simply a reader of written romance who had never found the luck to live through such feeling yourself, only words on thick pages that showed the very marriages you so dearly wished for. As a child you had believed your parents were in love, though you had started questioning that in your adolescence. They seemed happy, surely, as far as you observed. Though you doubted love had come to them passionately or fervidly, doubted a feeling as great as no other had ever swept them off their step. And your heart mourned, pained at the possibility that you may die with your life never be turned upside down by a person loved dearly and intimately, that the only destiny, the only availability of romance was a prince you felt nothing for.

Kim Seungmin; the name fell off your father’s mouth before you had the chance to cut his word off. Kim Seungmin, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom, a man so perfect you’ve never seen one like him. He was nice, he was charming, he was stiff when in absence of a familiar face. He was your parents’ favourite, he was the man everyone would die to have – he was your future husband, it seemed, the future King to your Queenship, and you felt nothingness for him. There was neither love nor hate; solely nothing. The thought alone enrolled panic within your guts, cold sweat spreading on the cushions of your palms, the little hairs by the back of your nape standing straight in fear – you as though saw your future before you, a future you couldn’t help but dread already.  

“Father, I barely know him, you cannot think of making me marry him by the end of the season, what do you-“

A heavy hand on the vitric of the table and you stopped your enraged flow of words momentarily, respect for your father overshadowing the fire that flamed up within you.

“You will get to know him. Besides, I have mentioned that he is most eligible. He is kind and humorous, he has a brain he knows to use. He has a name and a kingdom just like you do – you do not have anything to be upset about.”

Hot anger gnawing at your insides, seethed within the pit of your gut and dared to overcook in tears any nearing second. You didn’t wish to cry before your parents, before your father. Didn’t want to explain whichever context could possibly bother you to such hopeless state, didn’t want to show weakness in a matter so foreign to them. You blinked away the water in your eyes, observing mother and father exchanging a look, if questioning or degrading you couldn’t tell. They continued with their food, unaware of your inner turmoil, or choosing to ignore it. They were aware of your differing view on marriage, on your wish to marry after love, though years had passed since you had last spoken on the matter – it never let to compromises, hence felt aimless to convince and explain. Although, you felt the need to explain right then and there, to change their minds. For it might be the only chance you’d get, for your future might write itself if you failed to speak up now. And yet you felt a fool for scrambling for right words, for your inability to convince with great arguments and remarks. Because altogether, there wasn’t anything you could say, not to them, anyways. Because the search for love was null to them though tore apart your entire being. Thoughts and feelings head over heel while your parents waited for an answer, received only a lack thereof.

Only after counted minutes your voice filled the hall of the room, when your anger and frustration subsided just enough. Your body felt yet trembling, your interior shaken to the very last bone, though you had collected enough to speak, at last.

“You- you are right, Prince Seungmin would be the most righteous match indeed, he- he has qualities one could only dream of.”

Indifference from your addressees, a calming breath from your side. You wouldn’t allow to be married away without trying to change the outcome, surely. There was fate worse than yours, you were aware, unchangeable fate that one was bound to subject to. Maybe yours was too, maybe all words had been set in stone the moment they had left mouths; and yet you weren’t one to never attempt.

“But I don’t love him. I cannot possibly marry him, because I do not love him.”

Words like a slap against your parents, surely, and a part of you doubted your fate could be exchanged. Judging by the looks on their faces, by the utter disbelief. By the flared nostrils of your father, the deep crease between your mother’s brows. The settlement was set in stone; your father hadn’t asked you about the context, he had informed you. Simply and solely, as he had informed you of the fallen soldiers. As though marriage and death weren’t events of greatest major, as though all was null.

“Sweetheart, listen.”

Your mother’s voice an attempt to comfort, though you’d bet no word she could say would be the words you needed to hear.

“Your father and I are aware that you and we have… different views when it comes to marriage.”

Sensing your prediction to embed into reality you braced yourself from her following words, hoped they wouldn’t wound you too deep at heart. You were too fragile this moment altogether, you weren’t sure how many more hits you could take.

“…but you must marry sooner or later, honey.”

Voice too sweet to your liking for the words within the sugar coat were of bitterest taste.

“You will learn to love the prince, I’m sure of it. You must simply open your heart… leave alone there isn’t truly another… option… if you understand.”

Meeting her eye, questions marking your visage. You sweated, felt hot and cold simultaneously, felt each your senses magnify in overwhelming manner.

“There isn’t any other you love, child. If there was…”, a look to her husband, then back to you. It uneased you. “If there was another there might be arrangements possible to make. But the prince is the safest option and the best possible match for you, your father and I are sure of it.”

Your mother laid a hand on your father’s arm, the man merely looking at you, your mother gifting a compassionate look. You felt hard to breathe, your corset all too tight and the garments on you far too much. It was hot, the room started losing its shape. You excused yourself, arguing you’d need time to rethink the sudden information, hearing faint encouragement from your mother’s side, falling out of the velvet chair and stumbling your way gen room. Fiddling with the strings of the back of the dress, failing attempts of searching oxygen. Sobs past your throat in ugly manner, frustration and hopelessness laced within the cries.

Truth be told, if you actually loved anyone, all may be simpler. Truth be told your mother was right, and you saw your life being given away as though not your own altogether.

You needed air. You needed to breathe right the second or you dared to suffocate to death. Which wouldn’t be an alternative all too bad, given your future wasn’t yours.

Opening the heavy glass to your balcony in frantic motion – and you nearly cried out in utter fear of surprise. Changbin sitting on his assigned chair, garments lousy and head turning to catch your eye when he heard the noise from behind him. Seeing your blown out eyes and frantic look he hurried your direction, an expression of confusion and worry painting his face.

It wasn’t unusual of him to wait for you in the comfort of your balcony whenever he had the free time to do so, or the wish to talk to you. Your schedules weren’t always compatible, and you surely hadn’t the ability to reach out to him the same way it was in his own freedom. And while for most occasions you had grown used to it, today his presence, though comforting, had you jolt in your movement.

“Are you unwell? What is the matter?”

A supporting hand on your shoulder, his face to your level and searching for your eyes. You looked upset and beyond, frustrated almost if you Changbin had to tell, though he hadn’t seen you in such state nearly enough to be sure. Yet your body screamed discomfort, and he was ready to drop all if it meant to take it away.

“Help me out of this, I cannot breathe.”

A questioning look on the man, a blush then spreading over the dark of his skin when he realised what you were initiating; your back turned to face him, frenzy hands fiddling with the strings of your corset without success in opening the confines. You moved quickly, desperately, as though tormented deeply. Changbin stood a second or two before his own fingers found your back, entangling in your silk and tulle to grant you help; and utter shame and embarrassment coursed his body. It wasn’t intended intimacy, and he doubted you sensed the closeness altogether in your state of chaos. It was a cry for help from friend to friend and Changbin felt a fool to think of it as any different for your torment was surely great – and yet he was unable to overlook his lingering touch on your bare skin, the loosening ties when he successfully unknotted another part of your dress, when the heavy garment finally let go of your heated body and revealed the bit of white and lacen undergarments you hid underneath. Not only would the instance strike anyone in shock; you were unmarried and a princess, such proximity was looked down upon, said lightly. It was also Changbin’s heart that longed for his touch to stay where it laid, on the soft of your skin, even after he had discarded his eyes and turned his back to grant you privacy. It was his heart’s desire to not must and look away – the paining wish to be able to touch you without hesitation and in intimacy true, to undress you beyond the purpose of a helping hand. To account utter nearness because he’d be the man who’s promise it would be, he’d be the man to comfort and love you not behind closed doors.

Your shoes clacking against the stone porch of the balcony after a minute or two and Changbin had collected himself enough to face you anew. Your attire was casual, dress that could be a nightgown thrown over your body, and you took a seat next to Changbin, nearly as though your outburst was forgotten. Though your eyes didn't meet his, stood focused on the midday sky above — you were embarrassed or upset still for you nevee shyed away from locking gaze.

“I must apologise… I am not feeling too well.”

Your voice calm now, your face in absence of the panic it carried before. Yet Changbin’s worry didn’t dissipate, a deep frown painting his expression while he observed your figure. You looked in deep thought, gaze on the fingers in your lap now, fiddling with the silk of your dress. Lower lip between your teeth, occasional sighs of confusion, it might have been frustration also, sounding out into the midday air. Changbin gave you time, let you think of your words instead of pushing for an explanation for your distress – a habit of his you loved as with him there was absence of pressure.

It had taken moments of collecting thoughts and words before you felt you could speak up again. You had told Changbin the affairs that’d happened before you barged in on him, before fear and anxiety had started eating you alive. Your words had spilled out their confines in a manner Changbin had never seen before, you had let go of the tears you’d held back ever since your fathers words had settled in the dining room – Changbin had only ever seen you cry on one occasion prior to this, when you had gotten into a fight with your father in adolescent years and had waited for Changbin to appear on the balcony. Your emotions had overflown you that day, you had hugged and wetted Changbin’s shirt in a pond of tears, and maybe it had started back then. Maybe Changbin had loved you ever since that day, had realised it on your very balcony.

___ . ꫂ

You had felt Changbin’s warm hand on your own while you were telling him of Seungmin, of the marriage and your disagreement with it. He merely listened to your hearts’ spillings, hot tears building behind his own eyes which you failed to notice in your turmoil, yet Changbin didn’t dare fail in providing you greater comfort anyone else would be able to grant you. You had talked minutes upon minutes without a seeming rest, you had watched the sun set behind the horizon in navy colour as Changbin’s touch eased your mind. As his presence eased your panic, as his words of consolation eased your fear of future. You had locked gazes with his dark one, had seen your pain reflected within them, had sensed his wish to obtain the power in changing current circumstances for your very own satisfaction. You had sat with him in silence for uncountable hours, up until it’d been time for him to leave for you to rest at night, though reluctant from his side. You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, insomnia gnawing at you while your every thought was occupied with no other than your dearest friend. Your dearest friend who was the sole reason you had calmed after your burst of emotion, your dearest friend who would not shun revolutions if they were meant in your favour. You dearest friend who refused to leave your balcony, who insisted your every last tear dried up before he set foot towards his sleeping chambers.

You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, and had realised that this was love if you’ve ever seen it. That it’s been within your reach for as far back as you could remember, that you’d been a fool for not grasping out and taking an opportunity so grand it felt a punch to your gut. All too occupied with the very idea of love to have not realised it where it was provided, where it’s been hidden for you to find all time long; Changbin, your dearest friend. The man you were in love with.

The man who fought on battlefields for a living, the man who had neither power nor a name to him. The man who, even if you told your parents, could not be a match for you. Not an eligible one, anyways. The man who might not feel mutually towards you, all things considered. The man who – though you loved him, you were sure; it couldn’t be a feeling different – would never be any other than your dearest friend who’d wait for you on your porch, who’d gift a listening ear, who’d disappear when the sun set behind ever bright horizons.

The man who had been thinking of you during his own sleepless night after leaving you to your feelings in your room, the man who believed to have seen a change in your demeanour this very night. Who had believed to see a turn in your eyes and how they had observed him, with a new curiosity he’d never seen before. The man who might be wishfully thinking only, for you would never see him the way he saw you. The man who loved you so much it nearly pained him, the man who hated the prince of Empyrean with all his might.

___ . ꫂ

A week had passed since your father had announced the news of your expected marriage with Seungmin to the rest of the kingdom and anyone else in need of knowing, one week since you have realised your feelings for your dearest friend, the man you would never be able to call yours, not in a way you wished to – one week since you and Changbin had harvested an atmosphere which laid strange and thick above your heads, as though both of you knew of the others emotional turmoil, as though it only needed the fearless one to speak the words aloud – though both of you deeming the other to be of braver nature, and in a hurry a week had passed with few words spoken altogether.

You liked to believe that though the confession was wordless – his as much as yours – and though neither you nor Changbin dared to speak of the elephant in the room and regard to the subject of feelings and friendship your relationship per se hasn’t changed whatsoever. Liked to believe that despite your mutual wish for being more and conversing closer you yet were the same two friends that have known each other a decade, the same princess and the same knight that bore habit of meeting up in secret on a balcony sheltered from realities of cruel worlds. It was the very year long friendship, however, that didn’t allow your changed demeanour and the certain flusterness to go simply unnoticed. To be utterly aware that there was more on your minds than either of you would like to admit – it was a confession wordless, yet your bond went deeper as to not realise the two of you had changed. Behaviour and eyes surely spoke more than words could, now more than ever.

For Changbin, though aware of his feelings for you as long as he could recall, the cause in his wariness rooted in the knowledge that not in far future you’d be married and given away to another man, to a prince he himself could only ever dream to compete against. Seungmin had everything Changbin hadn’t, from a name to a kingdom to sheer power – Changbin merely triumphed with friendship and year long memories, whereas neither would bring you closer to you. Would neither be fit to be enough for you nor make the King himself approve nor make him the true rival against Seungmin he desperately died to be. It was against rules, it was against traditions, it was against own preferences – it was thoroughly hopeless, briefly put.

A week had passed since you and Changbin had been fools, cowardly to not exchange a word about the burden heavying your shoulders, wordlessly wandering to find an option in which both of you’d find happiness in – a week had passed since no ideas had come to mind, since you had seemed to have given up on love altogether. Because with every day there was less use to wish on it, every day a deeper understanding that you and Changbin might as well stay being cowards.

You were standing in the porcelain hall, uncomfortable dress hugging your body, suffocating your every breath. The room was utterly too filled, and the people were wholly too loud for your liking, talking and conversing about things you were unable to understand. You were making your way through the crowd, cautious to not appear snotty, careful to paint a smile onto your face whenever talked to. Your father had organised a ball with the neighbouring kingdom – both for you and Seungmin to befriend one another, and to send the troops farewell; other kingdoms have declared war, Empyrean and Noctifer enclosing to a unity to fight back against enemies.

Your supposed marriage had been made fully public and official not before every guest had settled in, the hall breaking into applaud and endless strings of congratulators followed the scenery. You’d been thanking everyone with smiles and nods, had talked to Seungmin for the first time since the plan had been settled – both of you flustered in a way most awkward, and quite frankly – you needed to leave the gathering. Needed to run until your feet gave out and your knees grew weak, until the tight corset around your bust finally suffocated you to faintness, needed to let the waters that collected themselves behind your lids gush free. It felt as though all and each townsperson and servant and maid and knight had finalised your very own future all in absence of your saying in it, people congratulating turning blind eyes to your wellbeing. In truth, it wasn’t solely your life on the line to be changed unasked – you haven’t had the bravery to ask the prince himself of his thoughts on the arrangement, for all you knew he could feel the very same about the deal as you did.

And then there was Changbin. Tidy black hair gliding between crowds, bell like laugh sounding out against the rest of voices. He was making his way through the place with his head held high, accepting kindest regards and farewells, wishes for success and victory like the high gentleman he was – you held him in your eyesight as often as you possibly could, only stable anchor against the mere crowd of strangers in the ballroom. His dark eyes met yours occasionally, whenever his own gaze danced across the room and over the heads of people only to find yours in the midst of it – the confession yet unspoken though your eyes told more than thousand words. Whenever your gazes met, you’d read his very own urge, to take your hand and escape from arrangements, citizens, princes and obligations. That his bitter glances towards Seungmin weren’t without meaning, that his eagerness for fight and protecting was milder than usual, that a hesitation marked him when the upcoming battle was mentioned by passing guests and former knights. That he wished to stay to win over your heart by spilling the feelings he had been surpassing for years on end only to avoid possible discomfort.

The confession was yet unspoken though you were convinced that Changbin loved you as much as you uncovered to love him, the man sure of your very own feelings as well – your change in demeanour, your longing gazes and lingering touches whenever on the balcony or in this very hall too telling to be ignored. It was undeniable, it was impossible.

You opened the door to your balcony in a manner shaken, hands moving fast to loosen the corset and allow for some air. The gathering had ended with a last speech of your father, thanking everyone dearly for their arrival, repeating previous news, wishing the troops the very best for the next days coming and speaking out his happiness and congratulations regarding your and Seungmin’s soon to be wedding. You had been drowning at that point, feeling as though water held your lungs captive and forbidding you to breathe – and then you’d seen Changbin, standing to look directly at you, from across the room. He had sensed your discomfort and had tried to flash you smiles and glances across the hall, had smirked and flared his eyes at you – it had given a reason for your father to scold him, it had given you a reason to flare him a warning gaze, had given your heart a reason to pain more than it was; your fate wasn’t written in the stars as it was, Changbin truly didn’t need to push it any further. In Changbin’s eyes he’d have done anything to paint a smile onto your features. Your brows had been furrowed, your eyes wet beneath layers of upheld strength – sillying across the room seemed like the least thing to do to brighten sunken mood.

You heard shuffling from beneath the stone porch, eyed down to find Changbin climbing up the firm vines that raked themselves up the entirety of your side of the palace. Heaving one leg over the railing for his body to follow suit, until he stood before you in all height. Changbin had asked to see you before he'd leave for uncountable months, and you had nodded in secretive manner when he had passed you whispering out his wish – not only did you carry a tradition to meet before every of his leavings, you both had a feeling that unspoken words between the two of you needed to be addressed, after all. If not for the sheer reason of the seriousness of the matter, then for the pact you’ve closed with Changbin, at the very starts of your friendship – Changbin’s occupation was a dangerous one, and any time he left with his troops he readied himself to never return — a mindset damaged if anything, though any matters you had shied away from over the time you had him to yourself were talked about before his discharge; it was a habit of greatest importance, because none of you would ever forgive yourselves for hiding a part of your minds and thoughts to the other; especially not when the subjects were as great as marriage and feelings unspoken.

“Hello.”

His voice breathless, and it hit you like coldest tides and angriest waves — just how much you would miss him. How much you have missed him any time prior, how it had always rooted from love rather than friendship. How you’d been utterly dumb to have never realised it, how you’d been a fool to only understand your feelings now, when it was most hopeless.

“Are you wholly insane?! You should be more careful shooting me glances when my father is around, he doesn’t approve of our friendship as it is.”

You made your way into your bedroom, the chilly air outside painting bumps across your skin. You despised when the troops left during cold temperatures. It gave you another reason to worry your brains out.

“I was merely looking at you, it is not my fault the mighty King does not like me because I am friends with his dear daughter.”

Sarcasm oozed from Changbin’s words while he made his way into your room, and you turned to shoot him a fiery glance. He wasn’t entirely wrong, though you knew that he was aware you weren’t either. You made seat on the plump chair before your vanity, red and golden stitching worn out over the years and looking fairly cheap against your gown, and Changbin stood in place behind you – he didn’t find himself in your own four walls all too often, always arguing that it was a sphere of privacy he didn’t want to step on. Every time his figure found itself beyond the safety of your balcony a feeling of tension laid itself into thin air, and you couldn’t help but paint red at the very thought of it.

He stood eyeing you through your vanity mirror, reflection milky and figures trembling, and you held his gaze. A million thoughts coursing your brain at the sight of him, though you only spoke out one of them.

“Sit down. Do not simply stand there.”

Voice snarky yet Changbin didn’t follow suit – keeping his space just by the door of the balcony, because truly, the only available seat next to the one you occupied was your bed. He’d never dare. So he continued standing, eyeing you through the vanity mirror, watching your face in the milky glass, bordered, as though trapped within the wooden carvings. A gaze so intense you nearly gave out, converted your eyes just shortly before turning in your seat and catching his eyes directly instead. There could be a million thoughts coursing his very own brain, ones that would never see the light of day, ones that you needed to hall out into the space between the two of you. It surely seemed like he was thinking a million things, lips caught between teeth and fingers playing with the hem of his attire, body utterly and wholly tense.

Yet you shuddered at the way he looked at you. Despite his nervous composure, his fidgeting body his eyes were darting, secure and meaningful on your own. He looked at you in a manner so deep you barely were familiar from him – it would have been scary if you didn't know him, if the room wasn’t so incredibly dense and thick in heavy tension. Tension you only could wonder about, could merely question. His eyes pierced through your own, prone to read the words written on the bloody skin of your heart. Unspoken words you yet needed to find courage for uttering – only one sentence was strong enough to break the barrier.

“Do not look at me like this.”

A huff out the man’s nose in a failed attempt to sound amused, and his eyes lost yours for only a second. A second in which you felt your world crumble within itself, in which you felt your haven slip past your fingers – for only one second, though. In the next Changbin’s eyes found yours again, carrying same expression, staring you down. Biting his lip, brows together in a look almost pleading. And your world seemed whole again.

“However am I looking at you?”

His voice tantalising, quiet. Not whispering yet the volume surprised you, the rasp that laid beneath it sent a wave of heat through the veins in your body. The room was in absence of further noise and the soundwaves of his words coursed the air long after he’d spoken them, giving you time to properly digest and clarify them. Changbin came nearer, closed the distance between your bodies inch by inch with steps slow. One by one you felt his presence further in your proximity, arose from your seat as slowly as he walked towards you. To face him eye to eye, to do anything other than sit and stare at him – because his gaze and the expression within was knocking you off your feet and punched remaining breath out your lungs, got your head and the thoughts inside it spinning and galloping in speed you didn’t know was possible.

Until he stood before you, only inches between your bodies. Yet merely looking at you, holding your eyes hostage with his own. You didn’t dare to back away first, nor did you wish to – you had always felt butterflies in the pits of your stomach when in such proximity to him, you’ve simply been too foolish to understand their fluttering about. Been too foolish to notice the seduction his lips drew, whenever he talked and laughed and said his ever same goodbyes, too foolish to regard your jumping heart whenever his breath fanned over you during hugs and late night whispers. You felt it on your lips, hot and fast, scattered and Changbin’s eyes beamed south – to your lips possibly, or maybe he needed to convert his gaze to recollect his composure – before you held contact anew. Tension in the room thick enough to scratch with simply a nail, bodies hotter now than you’d ever felt, ever known.

And then you understood; the heat radiating in between your bodies, nervous eyes flickering between gazes and lips, hands sheeting in a layer of sweat — the very moment written in books, the one that dared to steal the protagonist’s last breath — the moment before the kiss. You’ve never stood before said moment yourself though felt it must be it, couldn’t be anything else. Changbin’s utter body shaking in its place and he seemed like waiting, not leaning it nor pursuing — he waited for you to give the go and you did with a nod. A small one, barely noticeable though you knew Changbin took said notice — couldn’t not to, given the lack of space between you, the lack of strangeness between your personas. And the nod was all the salvation you needed, waited for. Changbin’s lips met yours in the very kiss you’ve read about, clumsy though in passion and thorough adoration. Mouths shy to open yet eager and letting the other in, tongues dancing in ways you wondered was possible. Eyes shut and your hands carefully around Changbin’s middle, unsure where to hold them and suddenly shy to touch the man at all. You pulled away, in fear maybe, realisation surely — what you were doing was inherently wrong. You knew of it and it was the truth — promised already to a man and kissing another, getting lost in his touch so tantalising and desirable. What you were doing was inherently wrong, and you didn’t care for it. You looked past Changbin’s worried eyes, silent questioning on your wellbeing and hesitation and you leaned in again, closing distance for another kiss laced now with confidence. Your hands not shying away from exploring, Changbin’s own touch following a path on your every inch of skin.

The contact of lip on lip and hands on bodies so unfamiliar yet you’ve grown to realise it was all you’ve been craving for, with no other than the man in your arms. The man that would leave in a matter of hours, would be off for months on end. Would come back long after you’d married another man – yet none of crucial thoughts wanted to stick for too long. You focused on Changbin, heart and thoughts full of him and the very way he felt against you, the very way his lips moved against yours in a manner less awkward now, tongues less shy and hands more eager. You allowed yourself to sink into the feeling and float within it, feeling as sweet and thick as golden honey smeared against lips, million times more pleasant and addicting in manners dangerous.

Changbin guided you. Barely realising at first though you were moving blindly with his help, stumbling helplessly until the pair of you made place on the bed. Air tensing further as you locked eyes for hour long seconds, and you were back, lips on lips in sync and hands following the rhythm. Shy to go any further than that because surely, having reached this point already overstepped a million sins you left to worry about later – not only this, you were also unsure of what could possibly unfold if you gave into the longing your entire body ached with, the urge for something greater and bigger. To give yourself wholly to the man you loved, to have him wholly to yourself in return, to grow into unison and remain side by side for the rest of days.

Changbin’s eyes shut in pained expression, fingers digging into layers of clothing he wished would vanish beneath his hands. He wished for you, longed for you yet couldn’t have you, not like he needed. His eyes daring to draw tears while his mouth never ended to dance against yours, with forces so great it surprised you.

And then he backed away. Your hands in his hair creating messes and his own on your hips, igniting impossible fires against the layers of your attire, two pairs of pupils blown out into orbs of blackness, chests heaving, lips bitten. Your face asking a million questions Changbin seemed unable to answer, and both of you stood in your positions to catch your breaths, to regain composure.

“Y/N… I must leave.”

In your years of friendship, you have never heard such weakness in Changbin’s voice, the secure shell he’d kept surrounding him breaking bit by bit until his very heart was left for you to tend. It weakened you, it pained and wounded you like nothing had ever before, and though water collected itself behind your lids you swore to not crumble before him. To hold your head high and save your tears for after he’s left.

It was a confession wordless and yet all was clear. You nodded, watery eyes and feelings unspoken yet without need to be addressed while Changbin’s lips found themselves on yours for the very last time, and you watched him make his way down the vines along your side of the castle, his kiss goodbye lingering on your lips and his remaining warmth surrounded you to shield against the cold, long after he was gone. You had stood on your balcony for a while longer, eyes fixed on the corner Changbin had rounded before disappearing from your view. His step’d been slow, unstable. He had turned around a last time, had sent a flying kiss and a first tear had fought its way past your lids. Many’d followed and all’d been silent, water down your cheeks and dampening your dress while you made no sound at all. That night you didn’t sleep, didn’t close your eyes for a minute. Had waited helplessly for the night to end, staring holes into your ceiling, had listened to Changbin’s troops readying their horses and setting off. You had left open the balcony door, cold breeze against bare skin a reminder of what you’ve lost. Tears had been rolling past the sides of your eyes, endless silent waters you hadn’t bothered stopping. Your body’d felt strange, not your own and all too tight, as though there’d been no room catching breath despite no confines caging you in. A part of you had left that night, a part so great you feared it’s lack would numb you out for the rest of days. Would numb you out regarding royal deals, would numb you out regarding Seungmin and the marriage to him – and maybe, you thought, maybe it wasn’t all too bad, then. Maybe the numbing would keep you from hurting, from drawing blood at your heart. Maybe numbing would allow you to keep this night and Changbin in anchor memory, as a source to sanity against unfulfilling duties – maybe numbing was the only option to keep loving the dearest friend you had while promised to another.

And numbing you needed. When not weeks later you stood in a white gown, before candlelit altar and suit dressed prince next to you in position, and when you haven’t heard of the troops nor Changbin in far too long to possibly be a good sing. When a letter had appeared on your porch three weeks into marriage informing you that war was lost, that half the soldiers would not be able to return; identified corpses written out below the notice, some names you were familiar with, Changbin missing on the list of lost lives – reassuring only little, because he hadn’t yet been back home, either. No returning knight had been helpful in giving you message about his whereabouts – the battle had been too messy, Changbin long not seen by anyone. Numbing you needed when two months into pregnancy you had never heard about the man again, the man you’d called your dearest friend and most secretive love, when years into retirement and elderly forgetting his face stayed an anchor memory against the laws of nature, his darken solid eyes meeting yours in loving gazes when you only sealed them.

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[skzdarlings]

part iii: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (word count; 4800)

warning for this chapter: more explicit violence, physical abuse directed at felix.

-

When his dark roots start to show, Felix attempts to bleach his own hair.  You ask why the aesthetic choice is so important. 

“I just don’t like the dark,” he says with a toothy, too-casual smile. 

You watch from the open bathroom door as he accidentally turns himself into a red-head.   He fingers a vibrant red-orange strand, cocks his head, shrugs, and smiles. 

His hair is a shifting mess of yellow-orange-red over the next two years.  The nightmares start halfway through.

The first one frightens you awake as Felix shoots upright in a sweaty panic.  A startled shriek claws up your throat and comes out raspy, your sleepy eyes darting around in the dark for an intruder only to realize the room is empty. 

Felix slumps against the headboard, wiping his forehead.  The fiery strands of his bangs are sticking to his face and his hands are shaking so uncharacteristically.  Felix only occasionally loses his cool and even then, his retorts are curt and sarcastic rather than emotional.   It is the first time you have ever see him like this, so small and so very human, and all you can do is stare until he gets his breathing under control. 

“Are you okay?” you ask each other at the same time. 

“Me?” you croak.  “You were the one who just—” 

“It was just a dream,” he says, in that clipped tone when his patience runs out.  His breathing is still a little shaky.  He goes to the bathroom then makes his rounds to check the security system, even though it is close to four in the morning.  Your own adrenaline is still dwindling so you are awake when he gets back in bed. 

You don’t know how to comfort someone.  No one has ever comforted you in a substantial way.  Even if they tried, you would probably rebuff it in confusion.   You are certain Felix will do the same thing.  He does not like focussing on himself. 

But he is radiating so much stress and tension that you can feel it burning off him like a heat wave.  He lays stiffly on his back and closes his eyes, pretending to sleep.   You know if you say anything about it, he will ignore you. 

You look at him thoughtfully, then you say in the smallest voice you can, “Felix, I’m scared.” 

His eyes pop open, his brow immediately furrowed in concern.  He looks at you and offers a hand. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, like nothing was amiss with him.   

“Bad dreams too,” you say.  Your nightmares have never caused you to wake so violently, but you do occasionally have them.  You are in the habit of burrowing deep in your blankets and staring at Felix until you fall asleep, calmed by his presence. 

Somehow, some way, you have found comfort in that silent company. 

“Can you hold me, please?” you say. 

You say it because his hand is clammy and cold in yours, despite all the heat of his anxiety.  You say it because his forehead is still damp and his breathing is a little laboured.   You say it because if you offer a hug, he will say he doesn’t need it, but he does. 

Maybe he falls for it, knowing you have a good reason to have nightmares too.  Maybe he sees through your ruse and doesn’t care right now.  But he nods and tugs you closer. 

A year of sharing a bed, not to mention every minute of the day, has made you a little thoughtless in regards to easy proximity, but this embrace is much more deliberate.  You feel very aware of the way he fits around you. His arm loops around your shoulders and you hug his waist, your head fitting perfectly in the crook under his chin. 

You realize you have never hugged anyone like this.  You initiated contact for his sake, but the cradle of his arms and the warmth of his body relaxes your own tension.  It feels like a great exhale, both of you releasing a breath you had been holding for a long time. 

A part of you wants to shove him away.  You think it would be very easy to find his embrace addicting and that is a weakness you cannot afford to have.   You know this, he must know this, but you’re tired, so you fall asleep wrapped around him. 

The next time he wakes with a nightmare, you don’t have to say anything.   He pulls you close and you fall asleep with your head on his chest.  By now you are used to him – behind you in class, beside you in the car, across the kitchen counter, standing at the bathroom sink, laying on the other side of your shared bed – so you let yourself drift, caught in the undertow of his comfortable presence, and you fall asleep like that.   

Again and again. 

His nightmares get worse before they get better.  For a few months, Felix wakes every other night with a startled burst.  He never talks about it.  Sometimes he grounds himself and plasters on a bad smile, but it never fools you.  

He always checks the security system after.  One night he doesn’t return and you imagine the worst, plagued by fears that will seem nonsensical in daylight but pose a very real threat in the darkness.  You turn on every light as you stumble down the corridor, a blanket around your shoulders, too frightened to shout his name as you shuffle along.   

You find him in the gym.  Felix is as strict with his daily regimen as every other protocol, from diet to exercise and back, so the sight of him sweating buckets in the house gym is not unusual.   But it being three in the morning, coupled with the nightmares and your anxiety, makes you erupt with feelings you cannot articulate.

You are relieved he is here.  You hate that you are relieved.  You hate that you were afraid at all.  You hate that you wanted him beside you when you should be relieved in his absence.  When did it all get so backwards?  He still reports to your father.  You should still hate his presence.  You shouldn’t be here, shaking, furious that he abandoned you. 

You throw the blanket on the floor and the motion catches his eye.  He turns, pushing his sweaty red hair off his forehead.  His face contorts in funny ways before he forces himself to smile. 

“Come back to bed,” you say before he can voice a stupid platitude.  “Now.” 

His smile disappears.  He stands there for a moment, breathing hard, just looking at you.  Then he nods. 

He showers and gets back in bed.  You are wide awake, but you stubbornly lay with your back to him.  You say and do nothing when he slides up behind you, crossing the vast space of that big bed to curl himself around you. 

“You’re safe in the house,” he says.  “You don’t have to worry.” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you say before you can stop yourself. 

He is silent for a long moment.  He shifts behind you then exhales, his warm breath fluttering over your neck. 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he says.  That’s not your job, is the unspoken addition your brain supplies.  Because Felix shouldn’t care about you either.  This is just a job.  You have no real obligation to each other.   

His arm is around your waist.  He breathes out again. 

“The nightmares,” he finally says.  “It’s not… I think it’s just… Before this, everyday, there was a lot going in my life, yeah?  And not… not good things.  But now things are… calm… compared to that so I think it’s just… catching up to me.  Um.  I was going too fast before but now I’m… I’m just here.” 

You know he won’t tell you what those nightmares entail.  If you ask me, I’ll tell you, I will never lie to you, he once said. 

You are too afraid to ask.  It is scary enough, laying in his arms, at once adrift and secure.  Scarier still to turn around and hide your face in his neck.   You do anyway. 

He strokes your back, a feather-soft touch, up and down.   It becomes a familiar pattern, absent-minded.  One night he touches you with that lazy caress while talking about nothing particular.  Neither of you can sleep, but his low voice and gentle touch lulls you into a hazy in-between world.     

You grab his hand and put it up the back of your shirt, not really thinking.  You do not mean to be suggestive and realize too late it could be misconstrued.  You are too embarrassed to apologize, laying there with a warm face pressed against his chest, his hand on your back.  He stops talking and his hand freezes, fingers splayed on your bare spine. 

You have never spoken aloud about how this kind of hugging is too intimate, even if it is innocent, considering what you are supposed to be to each other. 

After a moment, he continues, his touch still gentle.  You almost forget he is not a gentle boy, that he wouldn’t be here if he was.  You fall asleep soon after.   

-

You see your father less these days, no longer in trouble with the same frequency.  It makes you understand Felix, the way he spoke about nightmares catching up to him.   Over the years, your wounds have seldom had time to heal before they re-opened, both literally and emotionally.  Now you have time to scab.  

Those poorly stitched wounds start to fester. 

One night, you and Felix have an argument.  It is a petty, inconsequential quarrel in the greater scheme of things, and it ends with him rolling his eyes. 

Irritation is an itch under your skin, worsened by your ongoing state of aggravation.  When he goes to the gym for his work-out, trusting you to keep your own routine, you simply walk out the front door.  You know he will track you down but it’s the principle of the thing. 

Your act of petty retribution spirals out of control when your father gets home at the same time you are trying to leave.  One of his men literally snatches you in the driveway.  Your adrenaline was already running high from the argument, so you are a thrashing bundle of limbs as they carry you into the house. 

Your father is frighteningly quiet on the walk to his home office.  All at once you recognize this countenance.  It has nothing to do with you, but his business.  Something went wrong today, however menial or substantial, and his rage is an icy current.  You slipped and tumbled headfirst into the flood. 

You stop fighting.  You try to muster the same icy resolve as he seats himself on the couch in the office. 

In a way, you are almost relieved.  It has been so long since you last stood here, but you knew it would eventually happen.  Now it isn’t hanging over you.  Now your wounds aren’t festering.  Now you can rip the messy scab right off and finally just bleed. 

Your father pats the seat beside him on the couch.  You have only just sat when he says to his own guard, “Find me Felix.” 

Felix is waiting right outside the door like the dutiful little soldier he is.  He is in his work-out clothes, baggy basketball shorts and a t-shirt, running shoes, his hair messy from exertion.  There is a flush to his complexion and it makes him look his age, sixteen and bright-eyed.  He is a stark contrast to your father’s guard, a grown man with a hardened face as stern and full as a pit-bull. 

Felix looks at you, a momentary flicker of eye contact before he half-bows for your father.   Then he straightens, robotic.  He clasps his hands behind his back in the same pose as the adult guard. 

The dramatic pageantry makes you huff.   You know your father will mete out punishment regardless of what Felix has to say.  You do not know what Felix includes his daily reports, only that he has kept you out of trouble, but his cleverness will not save you now.  It never could, you remind yourself.  The hugs, the intimacy, the careful threads of friendship unspooling strand by strand, day by day – it was never going to save you. 

“My daughter is headstrong to a fault, isn’t she?” your father says.

Felix glances at you then averts his gaze entirely.   He nods sharply, just once.   “Sir,” he says, an acknowledgement.

“Mm.”  Your father sits back in his seat, his casual posture denoting apathy.  He is staring into space, rubbing his chin.  You realize he has not spoken to you directly when he says, “You know what happens now, don’t you?”  It seems like it should finally be directed at you, but his gaze is still on Felix.   

Felix says nothing, though his brow is furrowed with some consternation.  You stay quiet.  Felix has seen your father punish you more than once now, and you cannot find it in yourself to feel embarrassed about it.  Maybe Felix needs a reminder too.  Or maybe he has known all along there was no real substance to your connection, that you would always end up here and he would always betray you with his professional stoicism.   

“Sir,” Felix says again, as expected. 

You roll your eyes and look away from them all.  You hear the tell-tale clink of a belt.  A frisson is already scratching down your spine, a phantom laceration of its own.  

You have this script memorized, having played out this scene time and again.  Your father’s guard will hand him a belt, the room will be emptied so you are alone with your father, and he will remove the disobedience and weakness from your body – and the frustration and weakness from his – one stroke at a time.  You will leave, contrite and penitent in the freshness of pain and humiliation.  It will fade with your scars.  You will be back here again. 

Your father grabs your face and jerks it back to him.  As if reading your thoughts, he says, “It never sticks with you, does it?  Not one single lesson.”  He lets go with a sharp snap, your chin smarting.  You refrain from touching it.  “Felix brought this to my attention on his report.  You know, you could learn a lesson on reflection from him.” 

You roll your eyes and cross your arms.  You feel sick in an unusual way, more affected than you want to be.  Your father does not know or care if you have ever sought Felix for comfort, so he does not know or care if it hurts for Felix to betray you.  Felix is doing his job and playing his part.  Your father is playing his.  He will make sure you learn to play yours. 

And then your father says, “I agreed with his assertion.  Punishing you like a child does nothing to teach you true consequences.   Being my daughter puts you in a certain position in this world.   Thanks to the work I have done, your place will always be above subordinate persons.  When you make a mistake, when you step out of line, there will be consequences, and those consequences will not only affect you, but all those other people too.”   He waves a hand and the motion draws your eye.   “Felix,” he says. 

The other guard approaches at your father’s gesture.  The belt is folded over in his hand.  Felix glances at it, his expression inscrutable, as if a shadow has fallen over his brow.   He does not look at you again, even when your attention focusses on him. 

Your stomach turns over then seems to drop right out of you, a sharp plummet in your gut when Felix removes his shirt with a swift tug.  His motions are choppy and automatic, his face set.  He faces the large desk and puts his hands on it, his back to the guard.   

“What is this?” you say, looking at your father and his impassive countenance.  “What are you doing?  What is—”

You flinch at the crack of the belt, a full body shudder as if you were struck.  But the hit was not for you.  You whip around to look at Felix, his mouth pressed tightly shut and his gaze on the wall ahead.  When he is struck again, his instinctive recoil is smaller than yours, merely an eye twitch and hard exhale through his nose. 

You start to stand but your father yanks you down again. 

“Consequences,” your father says. 

The blood freezes in your veins.  Sardonic, you think about how moments ago you were wishing for that icy reserve.   Now it locks you in places like a cold shackle.  You watch with a bemused sort of detachment, like this can’t really be happening, and only when Felix’s arm shakes and his elbow caves, doubling him over the desk, do you snap out of it.  The ice melts and water runs, your eyes filling with tears as your voice claws its way up your throat, fighting, fighting, fighting until you rasp, “Enough.  Stop it.  Stop it!” 

You have yelled at your father many times, but this scream is so loud that it reverberates in the large room.  A painting shakes.  The guard actually stops. 

Felix lifts his head and looks at you.  His expression is pinched with fury, a barrier guarding the escape of any other emotion. 

You know your own face is open with all that emotion.  Felix has told you before that he can read you like a book, but right now anyone could.  Your masks crack and you look at him then your father with terror. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “Lesson learned, I—”  

Your father waves a hand.  A frantic, “No!” has scarcely your left mouth before the guard hits Felix with a ferocity never once directed at you.  You throw a hand over your mouth, horrified as Felix loses composure, face screwed up with pain as he collapses on the desk.  A bit of skin is torn right off his back and you look away, sick, before everything goes quiet. 

The guard steps back.  Felix is breathing loudly.  Your hand is shaking when your father pries it off your mouth. 

“Thank you, Felix,” your father says.  “I’ll send someone to administer first aid.”  Like this is a casual workplace injury.  Like he didn’t just—because of you—and—

You can’t look at Felix.  You stare at the ground, still shaking, your breathing as ragged as his.

“That’s all right,” Felix says in a remarkably steady voice.  He clears his throat.  “I can take care of myself.” 

Whatever happens next is a blur.   The room empties and your father administers a lecture, looking very self-satisfied.  When other things transpire out of his control, it is clearly reassuring to exert power where he can.  He just as clearly believes he has finally got the permanent best of you.   He might not be wrong. 

You walk in a hazy shuffle, out the door, up the stairs.  Near the top step, your pace quickens.   You find yourself crashing through the bedroom doorway, only snapping out of your stunned trance when you see Felix.  He is laying facedown on the bed, his bare and bleeding back a red canvas of pain. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles into the pillow, “I’ll get up.  Just… give me a sec—”

You shove the door closed and approach the bed, your hands hovering with no where to go.  You stare at his bare backside, the angry red lines and the long stripe where he is bleeding.  You reach, your fingers shaking, then you withdraw.   

“I know, I know, I’m crazy,” he says dryly.  “In my defense, it wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

“That,” you say.  “What was—”

Your voice cracks and disappears.  You cannot find it again.  Felix finally turns his head, somehow looking more composed than you despite the pain he must be in.  Surprise is his most prominent emotion, deepening to confusion as he stares at you in your state.  Then he exhales and closes his eyes, finally scrunching his face in pain. 

“I didn’t think…” he says.  He takes another deep breath.  “I told your father I would… volunteer… for this…  But that’s because I… I thought you didn’t…”

Your eyes meet.  You stare at each other with equal intensity, your stare still rife with terror and his wet with grief. 

“They would have stopped sooner,” Felix says, his voice low, barely above a whisper.  “If they thought you didn’t care, it would have stopped sooner.  I thought it would—I thought you didn’t—”

“Be quiet,” you finally say.  You wipe the tears when they fall, then shake your head like you are scolding yourself.   Your voice is shaky when you say, “Just don’t speak.” 

I thought you didn’t care about me, was undoubtedly what he meant to say.   He thought he could volunteer to take a beating for you and that you would be so stone-faced and indifferent, maybe even happy to see him suffering, that your father would not waste time with a prolonged punishment. 

But you did care.  Your father saw and your father acted accordingly. 

I’m sorry, does not suffice as a reply.  Sorry for running just to win an argument?  Sorry for sitting there and watching them hit you? 

Sorry I care about you. I wish I just hated you.

“I can take care of it,” Felix says when you fetch a first aid kit and sit on the bed.  He says that, but he hisses when he tries to move.  His arms shake with uncharacteristic weakness when he pushes himself up. 

“Lay down, stupid,” you say, laying a clean cloth over the wound to soak up the blood.    

He laughs.  It is a little breathless, but it is that familiar deep rumble of mostly happy sound.  Your face feels hot and your stomach rolls over with a topsy-turvy mess of feelings. 

You quietly clean and apply medicinal ointment to his back.  He lays with his chin on the back of his hands, staring for a while at the headboard, then looking at you.  You can feel him looking, his gaze like a touch as it wanders your face, but you do not look away from your task. 

When you are done, the injury still looks vicious.  You know it will get worse before it gets better, the marked skin already darkening, but it will heal.  You tenderly brush your fingertips over a line, gathering excess salve.  

“I don’t remember what we were fighting about,” he says, “but I think won now, yeah?” 

You suck in a breath to stop yourself from laughing.  He laughs, still deep but more boisterous.  It ends with a hiss of pain as he moves too much.  You shake your head, biting your lip. 

“Serves you right,” you say.  “None of this is funny.”

“Uh-huuuh.”  The weirdo is still chuckling. 

“Well, don’t worry about the future.”  You busy yourself with packing up the first aid kit so you don’t have to meet his eye when you say, “It won’t happen again.  I’ll hate you and I’ll make sure he knows it.” 

“Mm.”  He watches you fold the cloth, over and over, his freckled cheek squished into the pillow.  “I’d say you should offer to do it yourself, but I’ve seen you on a rampage, kicking a vending machine for not giving you your change, sooo… I think I’ll take my chances with them.” 

“Keep up the jokes and I really will hit you,” you say with no animosity. 

“Right,” Felix says, smirking into the bedsheets, “because you hate me.” 

“Yes,” you say, still not meeting his eye.  It convinces no one when you say, “Because I hate you.” 

That night Felix is restless, forced to lay on his front.  He shifts and twitches and groans, tugging a pillow of his head to whine into the sheets.   He can’t get comfortable. 

You open your arms to him.  You think he might reject you.  Though Felix is trusted with his work and they never intrude, there are other people in the house tonight, so it is a little reckless. 

Usually, he would be careful, but you think he might feel a certain resignation.  A dam has been broken, a wall torn down.   The worst has happened and you’re still here. 

He looks at you thoughtfully then slides across the bed.  You realize too late his shirtlessness adds another level of intimacy.  Your face and neck and chest all feel hot, plus there is a sensation like butterfly wings fluttering in your belly, but you swallow it down and stare at the ceiling as Felix carefully lays against you.   He also seems to realize the awkwardness, the tips of his ears red hot with embarrassment when he puts his head on your chest.  

You both lay there, stiff as boards, awkward and young and ridiculous. 

Eventually, your nervousness bubbles out of you in the form of a strangled laugh.  Your emotions are swinging on a rapid-moving pendulum and all that terror and sadness turns to a random euphoric burst of laughter.  Felix lifts his head and looks at you, laughing just because you are.  It goes on for a while, Felix the first to recover. 

“Shh,” he finally says, stifling himself.  He props himself up on an elbow, leaning over you, and puts a hand over your lips to keep you quiet.  

Your heart stutters, stops, starts, and you stare at him through the blue dark of your room.   His mouth opens but he doesn’t say anything.  He slowly slides his hand off your mouth.  Neither of you move, the newfound silence covering you like a fuzzy blanket.  

He flicks his head to toss his shaggy bangs out of his eyes.  The red is vibrant even in the dark.  You are touching his hair before you can think about why you shouldn’t touch him at all. 

He looks his age again, wide-eyed and nervous.  Apparently bracing himself for a beating is not a daunting task, but you touching his hair is petrifying. 

You twist a dyed lock around your finger.  After some consideration, you ask, “Do you like the red?”

“Uhh… I preferred the, uh, the blonde, but, uh, yeah, I guess…”  His voice sounds a little lower.  He clears his throat.  “I just can’t figure it out.  Ha.” 

“Hmm,” you say, letting him go.  “Maybe we can figure it out together.”  That sounds like a heavy promise, implicitly about more than just a hair colour.  It registers with him, his brow furrowing.  You quickly deflect by adding, “Because we’re gonna be seniors soon.  You can’t spend your last year of high school with bad hair.” 

He snorts and rolls his eyes, smiling. 

“Not like I’m a real student,” he says, “but suuure.  Sounds good.  Thanks.”  

You look down the length of his back.  You think about how he described his life now as calm, compared to whatever came before.   This is the lesser of two evils, this shoving and hitting and dehumanizing.   The pendulum swings back and your throat clogs with a sob.  You manage to swallow it down but you have to look away from him.  Your hand blindly settles in his hair, absently feathering strands between your fingers. 

“You don’t need to say it like that,” you say.  “You’re still a real person.” 

You look at him only because he does not answer.  He is staring at you, lips drawn into a line and brows knit together. 

“Some people might disagree,” he says in a very low, soft voice, almost conspiratorially. 

Your heart skips a beat.  You roll your eyes.  “Like my father?” you ask. “Well.  I never agree with him on anything.  You know that.” 

“Yeah,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips again.  “Uh, yeah, I definitely know that.”  A joking tone returns and he pulls a sarcastic face, like that much should be obvious. 

“Be quiet,” you say, lightly teasing.  “Just go to sleep.” 

Your hand is still in his hair so you yank him down.  You stifle a laugh when he hits your chest with a squeak.  He clears his throat, forcing a stern expression as he turns his face so he is not completely planted in your cleavage. 

“Good night, Felix,” you say. 

“All right,” he says.  “Good night.” 

You fall asleep first.  He is sensible enough to slide back to his side of the bed before properly sleeping.  The motion stirs you and you instinctively reach for him.  Your hand falls open between you.  He takes it and holds it, palm to palm, and you fall asleep once more. 

[charmercharm3r]

Phases Masterlist

2/3 completed

LMH, HJS

Masterlist

Story Synopsis: Whoever said patience is a virtue have never met Jisung and Minho.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, poly!minsung x fem!reader, lots of kissing and groping lol, more specific warnings in individual chapters

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Three part miniseries, more to be determined.

Preview

Phase One: Emotion Sickness

Phase Two: Wildfire

Phase Three: When He Sees Me

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Series tag list: @bookwyrm28 @ladylexis @blankdyean @sujurunaway @mal-lunar-28 @pussy-drunk @bangchxnnie @lyramundana @bumblebee-zone @bloopreads @propertyoftoru @ana-stasssiaaa @iheartjozzy @kurxxmi @i-dont-know-me-either @alice630 @jellylver @luvminmin @abcdefgiwsmcty @felixbrownies143 @sevngmin148 @myprwttyhan @ener-energy @3rachasninja @jisuperboard @got-it-from-my-daddy @prncsscrybby (also included those who reblogged with interest!)

A/N: If you want to be tagged just for this series, please leave a comment on this page or on the preview post! Or for future updates on all my other works, join my tag list!