jaeyunbaeun

[jaeyunbaeun]

THE SIX STAGES OF A BREAK-UP │06

PAIRING; jungkook x reader

GENRE; lovers to strangers, angst

WC; 13.2k

✎ series masterlist

6. MOVING FORWARD

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▍3 JANUARY 2022 — [four months before break-up]

It was 8 p.m., and the office was finally quiet. Jungkook sat back in his leather chair, rubbing his temples in an effort to ease the pounding headache that had been creeping in since noon. His eyes, bloodshot from staring at spreadsheets and contracts, drifted to the clock on the wall. He exhaled a heavy sigh — it had been another grueling day.

It had only been a little over a month since he’d taken over his father’s company, and yet every day felt like a battle.

His father had built the business from the ground up, pouring decades of his life into it, but age was catching up. The old man had wanted to rest, to finally enjoy the fruits of his labor, but Jungkook wasn’t ready just yet. He had always known the day would come, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer magnitude of the role.

He anticipated the moment but it was all too sudden. He even expressed it to his father, that he needed more time to prepare for the future responsibilities, but his father said he was more than ready and that he trusted him.

Although his father now rested, free from the burdens of leadership, Jungkook felt anything but relaxed. The employees, the shareholders, his family — they all looked to him for leadership, for vision. And while he knew he must rise to the challenge, the exhaustion from weeks of non-stop work was starting to take its toll.

Jungkook’s stomach growled softly, reminding him of his hunger. He hadn’t eaten since a hasty breakfast that morning, too consumed by meetings, calls, and the endless sea of decisions he had to make. He ran a hand through his tousled hair as he sighed deeply, his body and mind exhausted.

Gathering the scattered papers into a semblance of order, he stood up and stretched his stiff body. He then shrugged into his tailored suit jacket that hung behind his chair and grabbed his briefcase. The once-pristine office, which now felt like a second home, was darkened except for the soft glow of his desk lamp. He lazily flipped it off and plunged the room into darkness.

Walking through the empty corridors, he passed the row of cubicles that would be full the next morning. But for now, the place felt like a ghost town, echoing only the sound of his footsteps on the polished floor. He moved quickly, eager to go home and bury himself in your embrace.

The underground parking lot greeted him with its cool, dim air. There, in his reserved spot, sat the gleaming Hyundai car — the latest model, fresh off the production line one. It was a gift from his father, presented on the day he’d officially handed over the reins of the company. A subtle reminder of the legacy he was expected to uphold.

He unlocked the car with a touch, and the sleek doors opened silently. With a tired grunt, he tossed his briefcase into the empty passenger seat.

He was about to circle around to the driver’s side when his phone began to ring, its insistent vibration coming from his pocket. Pausing, he fished for it, fingers fumbling for a moment before pulling it free.

The screen glowed with a picture of him as a child, smiling widely, while his father held him upside down. Jungkook groaned inwardly, contemplating ignoring the call. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and he knew what his father wanted would likely add to his already full plate. But he couldn’t ignore it.

Sliding his thumb across the screen, he answered, pressing the phone to his ear as he walked toward the driver’s side door.

“Hey dad,” he said, trying to sound more energetic than he felt.

“Jungkook, son, did you just finish work?” he asked, his voice booming through the phone.

“Yeah, I have, why?” he asked back, pulling the door open and slipping into the driver's seat.

“I want you to come over for dinner tonight. There’s someone me and your mother want you to meet” he said, more like a command.

Jungkook grimaced, leaning his head back against the leather seat. His body ached for rest, and his thoughts immediately jumped to you, who was probably at home waiting for him. You both planned to spend the evening together, something he rarely got to do with you with his hectic schedule.

“Dad,” Jungkook started, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s been a long day. I’m exhausted, and Y/n is waiting for me at home. Can we please do this another night?” he requested.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, a pause that Jungkook recognised all too well. It was the silence before the storm, the moment his father weighed the pros and cons before insisting on getting his way.

“Jungkook,” his father said, his voice firm but not unkind.

“This is important, and your mother and I need you to be here” he told him. Jungkook closed his eyes and leaned his body forward, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment.

He loved his father, respected him more than anyone, but the man had a way of disregarding boundaries, especially when it came to family matters. There was no room for negotiation when his father had his mind set on something. And if it was a family dinner, Jungkook knew there was no escaping it.

“I just…” Jungkook began, but he knew it was futile. His father wasn’t asking; he was telling him.

“Who is it that I’m supposed to meet?” he asked, his tone resigned.

“You’ll see when you get here. Now, don’t keep us waiting, we’re all here” his father replied cryptically.

Jungkook groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t have the energy for this tonight, not after the day he’d had, but refusing his father was never really an option. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he thought about how to tell you about all this. You had been looking forward to a quiet night, just the two of you.

��Alright, I’ll be there,” Jungkook said, his voice heavy with reluctance.

“Good man. See you soon” his father said with a satisfied tone.

When the line went dead, Jungkook growled in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. Instead of starting the car, he dialed your number, and it rang twice before you picked up.

“Hey, babe,” your soft voice came through the line, a contrast to the blunt conversation he just had with his father. Your voice was the sound he’d been looking forward to hearing all day.

“Hi baby” he greeted, trying to match your tone.

“Listen,” he sighed.

“Dad just called, and he wants me to come over for dinner. There’s someone who he wants me to meet apparently” he said guiltily.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. He knew you were processing the disappointment. You had been looking forward to having him home, just as much as he had.

“Jungkook, you’ve been at the office all day. Can’t you just tell him no, just this once?” your voice was a little firmer now.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I tried. You know how he is. He insisted” he said.

You exhaled sharply, and Jungkook could picture you standing in the kitchen, staring out the window with that look of quiet frustration you often got when it came to his family.

“I’m sorry babe. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll try not to be long” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

You were silent for a moment before responding, your tone softer now.

“I get it Kook. I just miss you, that’s all. But go. Do what you need to do. I’ll see you when you get home” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, relieved but still feeling the weight of your disappointment.

“I love you, okay?” he then told you.

“I love you too,” you replied before the line went dead.

Jungkook sat in the empty car park for a long minute, staring at his phone. Then, he simply sighed and tossed his phone on the side of the empty passenger seat.

Soon he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. His father’s house wasn’t far, but each passing mile felt like a weight pressing down on him, pulling him further from the rest and peace he craved.

Who would’ve known the night was the starting point of the change in the trajectory of his life?

┄┄┄┄┄

When Jungkook finally pulled up to the large, stately house he grew up in, he hesitated for a moment. He had a spare key, one his parents insisted he keep even after moving out years ago, but the idea of using it felt strange tonight. He was too tired for surprises. Still, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the car.

The house was warm and inviting, just as it always had been. Without knocking, he slipped the key into the lock and let himself in, immediately hearing the sound of laughter coming from the dining room.

Jungkook frowned. It wasn’t just his parents — there were others there too. He could hear multiple voices, the clinking of plates and glasses, the unmistakable murmuring of conversation. His exhaustion deepened. All he wanted was to grab a quick bite and head home, not engage in pleasantries with strangers.

As he entered the dining room, he froze in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. His father sat at the head of the table, his mother next to him, both looking at ease and cheerful. But it was the three other figures at the table that made him pause. His eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

The three guests turned their heads toward him, and in that instant, recognition flooded through him like a shockwave. The woman sitting closest to his father — her long dark hair, the familiar way she smiled — was Aera, with her parents.

His childhood friend. Aera, who he hadn’t seen in over a decade, since she had moved to London to study when they were just teenagers. And somehow she happened to settle there instead of coming back to Korea.

For a moment, Jungkook was silently frozen. The last time he had seen Aera was at a hurried farewell party. Though they were that close, only knowing each other through their fathers’ close friendship, the two of them promised to stay in touch. But deep down they know that their lives were headed in different directions.

Now, here she was, sitting at his parents’ dinner table, looking not much different from the girl he remembered, yet somehow more grown, more composed.

“Aera?” he finally managed to say as he walked further into the room.

Aera smiled warmly, standing up from her seat. “Jungkook!” she said, her voice cheerful and familiar, as if no time had passed at all.

“It’s been a long time, oh my god” she jumped up from her seat and pulled him into a crushing hug.

Jungkook blinked, his mind racing to catch up with the moment. But he hugged her back. The exhaustion that had weighed him down just minutes ago seemed to vanish, replaced by a strange mix of surprise and curiosity.

Why was Aera here, of all places? Why now, after all these years?

His father cleared his throat, standing up as well. “I thought it was time for a reunion” he said, a sly smile on his face.

Everything then onwards seemed to be a blur.

Jungkook knew the dinner wasn’t just a simple get-together. It was something more deliberate, something he could feel from the way his father’s comments circled subtly around the idea of him and Aera.

The conversation kept drifting back to Aera, as if the evening was meant to highlight her every accomplishment. His father spoke of her warmth, her intelligence, her success — traits Jungkook was all too aware his father admired.

And more than once, there was the faintest suggestion, not quite spoken aloud, but there nonetheless, that Jungkook and Aera were somehow meant to be. Completely disregarding you.

Jungkook would shoot his father a sidelong glance, but said nothing, biting back the urge to call out the subtle manipulation. He had always been close with his father, but this was crossing a line. The idea that his father might be trying to steer him towards Aera, despite knowing about his relationship with you, made him uneasy.

Jungkook’s father had always shown respect towards you even though it was clear that he would have preferred someone with more connections or influence.

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel irritated by it. His father knew how serious you both were, and he had always stayed out of his romantic life. That was one area Jungkook had always controlled, and his father had respected that boundary.

Until now, apparently.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌5 MARCH 2022 — [two months before break-up]

Jungkook stood frozen in front of his parents, his chest heaving as he tried to process the words that had just been spoken. His father's voice echoed in his head, replaying over and over again like a cruel joke he couldn't escape. Disbelief mingled with anger, knotting his stomach into tight coils.

His father sat across from him, arms crossed with a hardened expression, his jaw set in determination. There was no softness in his father's eyes, no understanding of the emotional storm he had just unleashed. It was as if his father had made up his mind, convinced that what he was asking — no, demanding — was the right course for his son.

“You’ll marry Aera and it’s final. It’s what’s best for the family, and our company” he declared, his voice firm, unwavering, as if it were the most reasonable decision in the world.

“Best for the family? The company?” Jungkook was seething with rage, “what about what’s best for me?” he raised his voice as he jabbed his index finger to his chest.

The years of respect he had for his son’s boundaries when it came to his love life and the respect he had for you went completely down the drain. Discarded and forgotten.

“And what about Y/n, huh?” he spat, his voice trembling with both rage.

“I’ve been with her for ten years, dad! Ten goddamn years! How could you and Mr Kim even think of something like this? How could you expect me to break my ten years worth of love with her so easily?” he raged.

For the ten years Jungkook’s parents had known you for, you both spent holidays together, shared dinners, and talked about the future like any normal couple.

His father had never been overly affectionate towards you, but he had always treated you with respect — like he respected Jungkook’s decision to be with you. Jungkook had always appreciated that, thinking his father might have had his doubts but, at least, he accepted your relationship.

Now, standing in the living room, the place where so many warm memories had been made, Jungkook felt like a stranger. His father had just shattered the illusion of acceptance. He couldn’t understand why now, after a decade of silence, his father was suddenly pushing him toward Aera, of all people.

Jungkook barely remembered beyond the fuzzy memories of childhood birthday parties and awkward adolescent gatherings. She moved out of the country over ten years ago and never remained in contact with him. Until now.

He then turned his gaze to his mother, hoping — praying — that she would say something, that she would step in and stop this madness. But she stood there, silent and passive, her eyes downcast, refusing to meet his gaze. His heart sank as he realized she wouldn’t fight for him, wouldn’t stand up to his father on his behalf.

“Mom,” Jungook’s voice cracked, pleading, as he took a step toward her, his hands shaking with desperation.

“Say something. Please” he begged.

But she didn’t. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. Her silence felt like a betrayal, a quiet acceptance of his father’s will.

Jungkook was expected to marry Aera, not out of love, but out of duty. Duty to the family. Duty to the company. Duty to some archaic notion of loyalty between two families that meant nothing to Jungkook.

But what about his duty to himself? To you? To the woman he loved more than anything in this world? How could they expect him to throw away a decade of love and commitment, to break your heart just because his father wanted an alliance with an old friend?

“Why now?” he then questioned, frowning. It was a question he couldn’t hold back from asking.

“Why wait all these years?” he asked. His father remained composed, though there was a tension in his shoulders that Jungkook had rarely seen before.

“I know you love Y/n. But Aera…Aera is family. Her father and I have always had a bond, and when she came back to Korea, it felt like an opportunity. She’s a good girl, Jungkook. She’s everything we’ve wanted for you — someone with your values, someone who understands where you come from” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Jungkook’s blood boiled. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Someone with your values, dad, not mine!” his voice rose, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“This isn’t about me. This is about you and what you want, not about what I want, or what I’ve already built with Y/n” he said.

His father exhaled sharply, his calm facade cracking slightly.

“Jungkook, listen to me, I’m saying that maybe this is a sign-” he tried to explain but was cut off.

“A sign of what?” Jungkook shot back, incredulous.

“A sign that you can try and control my life after a decade of staying out of it? A sign that you’re willing to throw away everything I’ve worked for because you think Aera is more suitable for me on paper?” he gritted his teeth.

The room felt suffocating. His mother, still silent, shifted slightly in her seat, her hands wringing together as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Jungkook wished she would speak up, say something to stop this madness, but deep down, he knew she wouldn’t.

“No,” Jungkook said, his voice firm, though it trembled with emotion.

“I’m not doing this. I love Y/n, and I’m not going to betray her just because you think it’s ‘what’s best for the family.’ This isn’t the middle ages, dad. I’m not some pawn in your game” he said.

Jungkook’s father’s face darkened, his brows knitting together as his jaw tightened even further. “You don’t understand — this is bigger than you” he told him.

“I don’t care!” Jungkook exploded, his voice rising, filled with a fury that shook the room.

“I’m not going to throw away my life, my happiness, for your old friendships or your ideas of what’s right. Y/n is my future, not Aera” he confirmed.

And having said that, he abruptly stood up and grabbed his car keys from the table before storming out of the house.

┄┄┄┄┄

The next day, Jungkook sat at his desk as he flipped through the pages of the latest quarterly report.

Suddenly, the door creaked open without a knock. Jungkook’s eyes darted up, narrowing when he saw who stood there.

Mr Kim, his father’s best friend, strolled in with a broad smile that barely masked the tension behind it. Walking closely beside him was a woman Jungkook recognised as Mr Kim’s assistant, holding a tablet in her hand, her posture stiff and professional.

“Jungkook, my boy,” Mr Kim greeted, his voice warm, almost too friendly.

Jungkook, still seated, forced his lips into a tight smile. His fingers clenched the report a little too firmly before he set it down on the desk.

“Mr Kim,” he said, his voice composed but cold beneath the surface.

“What a surprise”

Mr Kim took no time in making himself comfortable, lowering himself into one of the plush leather chairs opposite Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook’s fake smile remained frozen, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed him. He didn't want to play host today, not to this man.

Mr Kim leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other casually as though he owned the place. “You know, Jungkook, we haven’t talked properly at dinner at your parents’ house. After everything with your father, I thought I should come by and—”

Jungkook cut him off before he could finish, leaning forward slightly in his chair. “What brings you here, Mr Kim?” he asked, his tone polite but edged with impatience.

He tried to sound as nice as possible, but his attempt at warmth felt hollow even to his own ears. He knew why Mr Kim was here, but he wanted to hear it straight from him.

Mr Kim’s smile faltered for a brief second, the casual pleasantries abandoned. His eyes darkened slightly as he shifted forward, elbows resting on the armrests, fingers tapping together in a steeple.

“I heard,” he began slowly, his voice now lacking the jovial tone from earlier, “that you rejected to marry my daughter”.

The room seemed to grow cold, and his assistant glanced nervously at her tablet, as if searching to occupy herself with. Mr Kim’s smile had disappeared entirely now, replaced by a hard, unreadable expression.

“You know,” his tone now low and almost threatening, “this decision of yours... it’s not something I’m happy about. Not at all” he said.

Jungkook met his gaze, refusing to back down. He knew this wouldn’t go over well, but he had made his choice long ago. He wasn’t about to be bullied into marrying someone he didn’t love, not even for the sake of the company.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Jungkook said, though his tone lacked any real sympathy. “But my answer is final”.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair as his fingers instinctively tapped the armrest, carefully choosing his next words. “I didn’t think it was the right decision — for either of us”.

Mr Kim’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes darkened with anger. “Not the right decision?” he repeated, his tone growing harder.

“Your father and I had plans, Jungkook. We always wanted this for our families. You and Aera…it was supposed to be the perfect union. Secure the future of both of our legacies” he tried to explain.

Jungkook’s stomach twisted in irritation. This was exactly why he had never been fond of his father’s friend. Everything with him was business, a transaction. Even marriage.

He could still remember his father’s long talks about alliances and the importance of keeping the company strong, of doing whatever it took to protect their name. But Jungkook had never wanted his life mapped out by others, especially not when it involved marrying someone he didn’t love, just for the sake of a merger.

“I understand that’s what you and my father wanted,” Jungkook said carefully, forcing himself to stay calm, “but I have to make my own choices now. I’m not going to marry your daughter just because it suits the company”.

Jungkook let out a frustrated sigh before continuing, “and besides, I have a girlfriend of ten years. And I don’t plan to marry anyone else but her. I hope you and my father could at least respect that” he told him.

The corner of Mr Kim’s lips twitched as he tried to contain his fury. “I see,” he muttered as he leaned back against the chair.

“You’re just like your father in some ways, but in others…you’re completely different” he said.

Jungkook said nothing. His face was masked with professionalism, but deep down, a part of him bristled at the comparison. He was not his father, and he never would be.

Mr Kim rose from his seat slowly, his assistant stepping forward to escort him out. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a warning. “This decision…it’s going to have consequences” he voiced out.

Jungkook’s face remained stoic, though his heart picked up its pace as the old man’s words. Was he threatening him?

“I’m prepared for them” he replied with a nod nevertheless. He knew there would be repercussions for defying Mr Kim, but he wasn’t about to back down.

Mr Kim raised his brow and a sly smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, while his eyes glinted with something dangerous.

“Really? Anything” he asked with his mocking tone. He paused for a moment, letting the word linger as if savoring it.

“Because I don’t think you fully understand what ‘anything’ entails” he said. Jungkook’s stomach tightened, but he remained silent, waiting for the inevitable threat.

“You see, Jungkook,” Mr Kim continued, his voice almost a whisper now as he sat back down on the chair.

“I have the power to ruin this company — your father’s legacy — and more than that…” he leaned forward, his eyes locking with Jungkook’s, the malice in his voice unmistakable.

“I can destroy your little girlfriend and her parents, too. They wouldn't survive the fallout if I decided to take action” he threatened.

“It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it? Watching them suffer” he played with his words.

Jungkook’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. Mr Kim had gone straight for the jugular. His eyes widened slightly, and despite himself, he felt panic rising in his chest.

His father’s company was one thing, and he could care less about it, but to drag the woman he loved — and your family — into this? That was a new low, even for someone like Mr Kim.

Mr Kim noticed Jungkook’s reaction, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, I see that it struck a nerve,” he said as his voice dripped with satisfaction.

“Yes, Jungkook. I know all about your little girlfriend. And her family. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would you?” he tilted his head slightly.

Jungkook’s chest heaved with fury, and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. The thought of him dragging the people he cared about into this made his blood boil. He glared at Mr Kim, and his breathing grew heavier with each passing second.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, his voice low and filled with venom.

Mr Kim’s smirk never wavered. If anything, it deepened as he watched Jungkook struggle to contain his rage. He had gotten under his skin, and he enjoyed every second of it. He leaned back in his chair, looking as if he had already won.

“Think about it, Jungkook,” he said, “you don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be” he suggested mockingly.

Jungkook’s fists slammed down on the desk with a loud thud, and the force of it shook the papers scattered around him. He stood abruptly and leaned over the desk, looming over the old man with fury blazing in his eyes.

“I said,” he growled through gritted teeth, “don’t you dare” he repeated.

Mr Kim leaned in to narrow the distance, his eyes never leaving the younger’s. “Then I suggest you reconsider the marriage if you want to keep them safe. Break up with your girlfriend, marry my daughter, and we can all avoid any...unpleasantness” he said.

Jungkook’s entire body was taut with tension. His chest heaved with the effort to control himself, but it was no use. He slammed his fists down on the desk one again, but there were no words coming out of him.

Mr Kim then stood slowly, brushing off his suit as though the conversation had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he said with a smug smile. “But don’t take too long. The clock is ticking” he said, mimicking the sound of a clock.

And with that, he turned and strolled out of the office, his assistant following silently behind. When the door clicked shut, Jungkook was left standing there, breathing hard, fists still clenched. His mind raced as he struggled to calm the storm of rage and fear boiling inside him.

For the first time in years, Jungkook felt powerless — and that scared him more than anything. He didn’t want to lose you. But at the same time, he couldn’t let anything happen to you or your family.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌31 MAY 2022 — [day of break-up]

Jungkook sat alone in his office, staring blankly at the paperwork piled on his desk, the ticking clock on the wall the only sound in the room. Over a month had passed since Mr Kim had walked in through that very door and flipped his world upside down.

Jungkook had tried to remain composed, but his mind had raced with questions. What kind of power did Mr Kim have? How could a man like him hold such leverage over people’s lives?

Jungkook hadn’t known, but the look in that old man’s eyes told him that he wasn’t bluffing. There was a malice behind his words, a promise that he could and would follow through on his threats if Jake didn’t comply.

Jungkook was terrified, and he had spent sleepless nights trying to figure out what to do. He tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy in the days following Mr Kim’s threat, but his efforts were in vain. He had grown distant, pulling away from you, retreating into himself.

He knew you noticed — of course, you had. You were too attuned to him not to see the change, the way he had stopped holding you as tightly at night, how his once carefree laughter had become forced and hollow.

Every time you tried to talk to him about the turmoil he was going through, he could do nothing but lie to your face.

The worst part was knowing that if he told you the truth, you wouldn’t back down. You would fight. You weren’t someone who ran from a challenge; you were strong, fierce when it came to protecting the people you loved.

Jungkook knew that if you found out what Mr Kim had threatened, you would confront him without hesitation, and that scared Jungkook more than anything. Because it would only make things worse.

Mr Kim wasn’t the kind of man you could outsmart or intimidate. Jungkook didn’t doubt that if you stood up to him, he would follow through on his threat, and your family would pay the price.

So, Jungkook said nothing. He kept his distance, convincing himself it was for your sake, for the sake of your parents, who had always treated him like a son.

But the silence was suffocating him. Every time he looked at you, his heart broke a little more. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved the truth, but Jungkook couldn’t give it to you, no matter how much it killed him to withhold it.

He had to keep you and your family safe. Even if it meant sacrificing the decade of love and memories you both created.

He had cried in silence more than once, tears of frustration and helplessness spilling out when he was alone. He would hide in the bathroom or stay late at work, waiting until the office was empty so no one could hear him. In those moments, he felt like he was coming apart at the seams, torn between his love for you and the fear that, if he stayed with you, he would be the reason your family was destroyed.

Jungkook didn’t know how to break up with you.

How do you destroy ten years of love, of memories, with a few words? How do you look someone in the eyes and tell them that everything you had together has to end, even when it’s the last thing you want?

He had rehearsed it in his mind a hundred times, but every time he imagined saying the words, they caught in his throat, too painful to speak aloud.

You deserved better than this shadow of a man he had become, a man trapped by fear and threats. But Jungkook didn’t know how to let you go without shattering both of your hearts in the process. The weight of it all — the lies, the distance, the inevitable heartbreak — was crushing him.

All he knew was that, sooner or later, he would have to make a choice. Either he would find the courage to tell you the truth and risk the consequences, or he would have to sever the bond between you, leaving behind the only person who had ever made him feel truly whole. And in either case, he feared that he would never be the same again.

His movements were slowly and sluggish as he picked himself up. Without tidying his desk, he simply turned off the desk lamp and grabbed his phone and briefcase before heading out of the office building.

As he drove home, his hands shook, and his heart raced as he prepared for what he had to say. He knew you, who trusted him so deeply, wouldn’t understand. You’d demand answers, try to fix whatever was wrong, but he had to stay strong. He couldn’t let you see the truth behind his decision.

Jungkook chose a brutal path that night. He fabricated lies, told you that he had fallen out of love with a woman he didn’t specify. And as expected, you were stunned and heartbroken. You tried to reason with him, to find some explanation for his sudden change. But Jungkook pushed you harder, saying things he didn’t mean.

“How can you just fall out of love Jungkook? We’ve been together for ten fucking years!” you spoke through your sobs. Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot, nose red and cheeks damp from the continuous tears.

‘I’m sorry baby, I didn't want any of this to happen’ he badly wanted to say. But he couldn’t.

Jungkook wanted to cry. He had wanted to scream, to take it all back and tell you the truth. He wanted to hold you, wipe away your tears, and tell you he loved you more than anything in the world. But he couldn’t.

Moving out of the house you both shared only plunged him deeper into hell.

In the days that followed, Jungkook found himself drowning in pain of heartbreak. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you — your smile, your touch, the way you used to make him feel whole.

But then it would quickly switch to your hysterically crying form, where he couldn’t comfort you for the first time. And it tore him.

The silence of his new apartment was unbearable, a constant reminder of what he had lost. His heart ached with a deep longing for your presence and your warmth. The nights were the worst. Without you beside him, and without your comforting embrace, sleep became impossible. The bed felt cold and foreign without you in it.

He missed everything about you. He missed the little things — the way you absentmindedly played with your hair when you were thinking, the sound of your voice when you called his name, the scent of your skin when you rested against him.

He had given all of that up to protect you, but in doing so, he had broken his own heart beyond repair.

He often found himself staring at his phone, wanting to call you, to tell you the truth, to explain why he had done what he did. But he knew he couldn’t. If he reached out, if he tried to bring you back into his life, Me Kim’s threats would become reality. You would suffer because of his selfishness, and that was something he could never allow.

Jungkook was trapped in a prison of his own making — one where the love of his life was just out of reach, and he was powerless to change it. Every day felt like a new kind of torture, and the more time passed, the more he wondered if he would ever be able to move on, or if he had doomed himself to a life of loneliness and regret.

┄┄┄┄┄

One thing Jungkook knew after everything that had happened was that his relationship with his parents was never the same.

He stopped visiting home, stopped answering their calls, and distanced himself from their world. He had been straying away from his family’s expectations for years, but this was the final break. Now, the only time he interacted with them was when public appearances made it unavoidable — dinners with influential families, charity events, or any occasion that required the “perfect family” facade.

As far as they were concerned, this was the life he was supposed to lead — marry the right woman, cement the right alliances, and protect the family’s legacy. Jungkook knew that in their eyes, his feelings didn’t matter. He was just a piece in a much larger game.

Anything and everything he did after the break-up was against his will, like the Instagram post of him and Aera posing her hands to announce their engagement.

Aera, meanwhile, was oblivious to the entire situation. She was sweet, and had always had a crush on Jungkook when they were young, but he never saw her that way. Mr Kim had made sure his daughter knew nothing about the threats or the manipulation. To Aera, it seemed like fate that Jungkook had suddenly developed feelings for her.

But Jungkook felt sick every time he had to pretend to care, to smile when she called or laugh at her jokes. But he had no choice. Her father was always watching, always making sure Jungkook played his part.

In public, Jungkook acted like the perfect partner, attending events with Aera, taking her out for dinners, and holding her hand when people were around. But behind closed doors, he was consumed with guilt and despair. Every time Aera smiled at him, it was like a reminder of the life he had thrown away, the love he had shattered to protect the woman he truly cared about. You.

He knew you were watching — the news, the wedding, everything — and he knew for a fact that it only added salt to your wounds. Knowing you for years, he knew you were probably locked away in your house crying your eyes and heart out. The thought of it all was killing him. He longed to run back and tell you the truth, to somehow find a way to stop Mr Kim, but he couldn’t.

It was all over. And he was helpless.

But the least he knew was that you and your family were going to be safe.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌PRESENT

Aera stood frozen with mouth hung open in shock, eyes wide and brimming with tears that threatened to spill over. Jungkook stared at her with emotions she couldn’t clearly read, but pain was one of the apparent.

“I never wanted this, Aera!” he yelled, his hands flailing in frustration. “Do you understand that? I never wanted to marry you!” his face flushed with anger, his voice raw and filled with venom.

“I was forced, Aera,” Jungkook continued.

“Your father threatened me. He threatened my girlfriend, threatened her family. He said he’d ruin their lives if I didn’t marry you” his voice then slowly started to break with the weight of the secret he had carried for so long.

“Ten years, Aera! Ten years of my life wasted! He ruined everything. I had to give up the woman I loved, destroy the relationship I had built, all to keep your father’s threats at bay!” Jungkook’s voice rose again, louder, more desperate.

Aera’s heart cracked at the sound of his anguish. She wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, but her body remained rooted to the spot, helpless and ashamed.

It was in this moment that everything clicked into place, the final piece of the puzzle snapping together with sickening clarity. The memory of a few hours ago rushed back, hitting her like a freight train. The look on Jungkook’s face when you collapsed, the panic and worry that had gripped him — it all made sense now.

He still loved you.

Jungkook was shaken to his core when you fainted in his arms. Aera saw it in his eyes but hadn't understood the depth of it at the time. He had stood there frozen, as if seeing a ghost from the past he had tried so hard to bury. Aera was confused, jealous even, but she didn’t press him on it.

Aera knew about it not too long ago, but she only knew you as a girlfriend Jungkook broke up with a long time ago. But now, it was clear — his concern wasn’t just for an ex-girlfriend he broke up with. It was for the woman he had once loved — still loved — the woman he had been forced to abandon.

Tears streamed down her face, but she barely noticed. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, her mind racing to catch up with everything Jake had revealed. “Jungkook,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t…I never-” she still tried to find her voice, and Jungkook’s bitter laugh cut her off.

“Of course you didn’t know. Your father made sure of that. He manipulated everything, every part of our lives, so you would never suspect a thing. I was trapped. I had no choice” he told her. The pain in his voice was raw, and Aera’s tears fell harder.

Jungkook turned away from her as he ran his finger through his already tousled hair, his eyes rapidly blinking as if he’s trying to control his tears.

“I didn’t want this to happen, but fuck! I didn’t want anything to happen to her or her family either” his voice trembled.

All these years, she had been completely in the dark, living in a carefully constructed lie. Her father. He had done this. He had used her as a pawn in his twisted game, manipulating Jungkook, ruining lives, all to maintain control. Aera’s body shook as the truth unraveled before her, too much to bear all at once.

Jungkook then whipped back around to face her, still yelling and pouring out his rage.

“Do you know what it feels like to look at you every day and be reminded of everything I lost? I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard to make this work, to forget what he did, but I can’t! I can’t forgive him for taking away my choice. I can’t forgive you for being part of it, whether you knew it or not” he ranted.

Aera wanted to scream, to tell him she had no idea, and that she was as much a victim as he was. But the words stuck in her throat, choked by the overwhelming pain and confusion. Her hands came up to her face, covering her mouth, as if that could somehow contain the sobs that were building inside her. She loved Jungkook, she believed that their marriage, despite its challenges, had been real.

But it wasn’t real. It had never been real. Everything she thought they had shared was based on a lie, a lie orchestrated by her father’s greed and control. And Jungkook…he hated her for it. All this time, he had hated her.

The tears flowed freely now, unstoppable, and Aera’s knees finally buckled as she crumbled to the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but there was none. There was nothing left.

Jungkook’s voice softened as he looked down at her, his anger spent, replaced by exhaustion and sorrow. “I never wanted to hurt you, Aera. I never wanted any of this. But I can’t keep pretending. Not after today” he said.

Aera’s mind flashed back to the image of you, unconscious on the floor of the office, the blood staining your face. How long had Jungkook carried this guilt? How much had he sacrificed, all because of her father’s demands?

She wanted to ask him what would happen now, but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t even think about tomorrow, about what this meant for their future. All she could feel was the immense weight of betrayal pressing down on her, suffocating her, breaking her apart piece by piece.

Jungkook knew that finally telling Aera the truth wouldn’t make a difference to anything. Because he knew he lost everything the moment her father threatened you and your family in ways he still hadn’t figured out.

He knew that confronting Aera about her father wouldn’t change the fact that the ten years he had spent with you was now destroyed. He lost you when the first tear fell from your eyes, and he knew it especially when he fed you lies to make you hate him.

It was all over, and there was no going back. He lost you forever.

┄┄┄┄┄

ONE WEEK LATER

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

“I’M PREGNANT!” was the first thing your best friend screamed as the door to the bathroom slammed open.

You jerked in surprise, and the book you’ve been reading while laying down on your bed slipped from your hands and fell on your face. You groaned as you pushed the book aside, knowing you probably lost the page you were on.

You glanced over at Minhee, blinking slowly. You weren’t exactly surprised by the news. Minhee and her boyfriend were sexually active, and you only knew this because she somehow had to tell you every detail of her life and relationship.

“So...you’re pregnant,” you said flatly, raising an eyebrow. You sat up and folded your arms across your chest, offering your friend a half-smile.

“Should I act shocked?” you asked.

Minhee gaped at you, walking over and holding the test in front of you as if it were a rare artifact. “Yes! You should be shocked! I wasn’t expecting this!” she yelled.

But you were.

Minhee’s hands were shaking slightly as she looked at the pregnancy test. Her face portrayed conflicting emotions — mostly anxiety and disbelief. But there was a little bit of joy too.

This wasn't exactly part of Minhee’s grand plan for her twenties.

You knew your best friend had always been someone who valued freedom above all else — spontaneous road trips, parties, endless nights out dancing. She always said she wanted to enjoy her twenties, traveling, exploring, making memories with the people she loved, not tied down by anything or anyone. At least not yet. A baby had never been part of that plan. Not now.

“Hmm” you hummed.

“I’m happy for you though, you know?” you said sincerely, your face softening you sat up.

“I mean, you’ve got this, right?” you leaned forward and rested your elbows on your knees.

You were genuinely happy for her, despite everything. Even if Minhee wasn't exactly ready for a baby, you knew her well enough to believe that she had figured it out. She was in a good place mentally and financially, and with her boyfriend by her side, you knew nothing could go wrong. Minhee was resilient, after all. If anyone could take on the unexpected, it was her.

Minhee’s eyes danced as she sat down on your bed. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’m terrified. But...I think I’m happy too? It’s just…this crazy” she glanced at the test in her hand, her smile wavering slightly, as though the gravity of it all was beginning to sink in.

“Me and Sangmin were going to go to Greece next summer” she trailed off with a sigh. You understood how she was feeling, a baby was a big responsibility, and mentally preparing yourself given the suddenness wasn’t easy.

“Well, I guess Greece will have to wait. But I think you'll be an amazing mom” you reassured her as you pulled her into a hug.

“And hey, you’re not alone in this, okay?” you remind her.

Minhee clung to you, still feeling a little overwhelmed but grateful for the comfort she needed, especially by you. “Thank you” she murmured into your shoulder.

The room fell silent for a moment as you two hugged, but you soon broke it with a soft giggle. You gently grabbed her shoulders and pulled, a childish smile dancing on your lips.

“Wow, can’t wait for my little niece or nephew to join the chaos” you joked as you reached down to place your hand gently on her lower abdomen.

Minhee chucked at your comment and placed her hand over yours, feeling herself less tense than she was before. “Me too” she quietly responded, “mommy is still going to be a wild one either way” she added, earning a loud laugh from you.

“That’s one thing about you that’s never going to change”

Minhee glanced at the pregnancy test still in her hand. Life was about to change — for her and the people she knew. But for now, she just wanted to enjoy this strange, unexpected turn of events, knowing that whatever happened next, she would face it together with the people she loved. You, Sangmin and Mingyu.

┄┄┄┄┄

Later that day, you tagged along with Minhee and went over to Mingyu’s house to hang out, also with the intention of breaking the news to him. Both of you had the same scenario played out in your minds about how he was going to react.

And well…

“Does this mean I can finally teach someone my skills in scamming the system?”

“What the fuck? No! You’re not teaching my child shit” Minhee deadpanned, horrified at his suggestion.

“Ugh, what’s the point then? They need to know how to fuck over the system before the system fucks them” Mingyu rolled his eyes, folding his arms and leaning back against the couch.

“You’re not turning my child into a criminal Gyu” she glared.

“Whatever, but I’m going to be the godfather though, right?” his eyes then lit up as he leaned forward.

“Unfortunately” Minhee sighed.

“Hey what’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned.

You placed your now empty cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table and turned to your male friend. “And I’m the godmother” you barged into the conversation, diverting the attention to the main topic.

“Seriously though, when are you planning to tell Sangmin?” you turned to ask Minhee. Minhee shifted in her seat, not uncomfortably but rather unsure.

“I don’t know to be honest. I mean, his internship at the tech company is about to be over in a month and he’s working really hard paying attention to his work. I don’t really want the news to come in the way and distract him, so I think I’ll just wait until then” she answered.

You and Mingyu nodded understandably. You both knew how important this internship had been for Sangmin. It was a major stepping stone for his career, something he had worked incredibly hard for. The last thing Minhee wanted was to derail his focus, especially since you both knew he was the kind of person who would drop everything to be by her side if he knew.

“It makes sense, honestly. You don’t want to throw this at him when he’s in the middle of such a big opportunity” Mingyu said.

You, who had been listening quietly, nodded in agreement. “It’s smart. But when the time comes, he’s going to want to know everything. You know, like when he starts noticing your bump. And he’ll be there for you, Minhee. I’m sure of it” you assure her.

Minhee hummed in response. “I just…I don’t know how to handle this on my own for a month without telling him” she mumbled as she nibbled on his lip.

Mingyu leaned over and pulled his best friend into a quick, reassuring hug. “You’re never on your own, Min. We’ve got your back, always” he told her.

“I told you, we’re always here for you” you reminded her, joining the small group hug.

You, sitting beside them, smiled softly. It was moments like these that reminded you why your friendship had endured for so long. You were always there for each other, no matter what life threw your way.

“I love you guys” Minhee sighed in relief, relieved that she was surrounded by such supportive people.

For the next few hours, the three of you talked about everything from baby names to how Minhee planned to break the news to Sangmin when the time was right. Mingyu, true to his nature, kept the mood light, cracking jokes about being the coolest godfather in history and offering ridiculous parenting advice that had Minhee and you laughing uncontrollably.

━━━━━━━━━━

▌31 DECEMBER 2022 — [09:30 a.m.]

It was early winter morning, and the cold air was biting at your faces as you stood in the driveway. The sun, hidden behind thick grey clouds, gave a pale light that reflected off the snow-covered ground. You, Minhee, and Mingyu stood around the open trunk of Sangmin’s SUV, ready to load up for your trip to the forest resort.

The New Year’s celebration was something you had been planning for weeks, and now, after a fresh layer of snow blanketed the world around, the excitement was uncontainable.

You, wrapped tightly in a puffy coat and wool scarf, were adjusting your suitcase in the back of the car. You brushed some stray snowflakes from your hair, laughing as Mingyu tried to cram his duffel bag into the limited space left. He always packed like he was going away for a month, even if it was just a few days.

“Come on, Gyu, there’s no way that thing’s fitting unless you leave half of it behind,” you teased, shoving your own bag to make more room.

Mingyu gave you a dramatic eye roll. “I need options, Y/n. Who knows what the wilderness will throw at us,” he joked, pulling at his worn leather jacket and flashing his usual mischievous grin.

“You’re acting like we’re going out to live with the bears in the wild” you rolled your eyes back, folding your arms against your chest.

“Why? Does the idea of it scare you?” he smirked, raising his brow.

“Pfft, scare me? Why would it scare me?” you tried to come off as brave. Although in reality you knew you wouldn’t last a day in the wild.

“Aww, my Y/n-nie is actually scared” Mingyu pouted with his sickening baby voice as he cupped your cheeks with his surprisingly warm hands.

“Don’t worry, your Gyu will protect you” he pouted, taking the opportunity to squish your cheeks together.

“Ugh, whatever” you pushed his hands away.

Minhee stood nearby, watching you both with amusement with her hand resting on her small but noticeable baby bump.

At four months pregnant, she had begun to show, and although she was still glowing with excitement about the baby, there was an undeniable shift in the way she carried herself. Her energy was different — more careful, more thoughtful. She was wrapped in a long coat, her face glowing, framed by her brown curls that spilled out from beneath her beanie.

Despite the cold, Minhee’s cheeks were flushed with the same excitement that had been bubbling in her ever since you all decided to spend New Year’s Eve at a secluded resort in the forest. The snow only made the idea even more magical.

“Are we ready to go?” you asked whoever.

“I think so,” Mingyu shrugged.

You glanced over and noticed Minhee picking up and struggling to carry a smaller but noticeably overstuffed bag. It was filled with the extra things for the trip that Minhee insisted on bringing. Before you could step in to help, Sangmin appeared from the front of the house, his eyes immediately locking onto his struggling girlfriend.

“Minhee!” he called out, rushing over with a look of concern that you and Mingyu had grown used to over the past few months. He was protective of her, almost to a fault, ever since Minhee told him she was pregnant. He had always been caring, but now there was a new layer of vigilance in his every action.

Sangmin reached Minhee’s side in seconds, his hand gently but firmly pulling the bag from her grip. “What are you doing?” he scolded, his voice soft but stern. “You shouldn’t be carrying heavy things right now, remember?” he reminded her.

Minhee gave him a sheepish look, the kind that said she knew she was in trouble but hadn’t thought it was a big deal. “It’s just one more bag,” she replied lightly, but Sangmin was having none of it.

“One more bag is too many,” he said, shooting her a look that made her smile in a way that softened his concern. He dropped the bag into the trunk and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a protective hug.

“I’ve got it, okay? You don’t need to do anything but relax. I mean it, babe” he stared at her.

Minhee sighed but smiled up at him, her hand resting on his chest. “You worry too much,” she teased, though it was clear she appreciated his concern.

“Well, someone has to,” he replied, his tone lightening as he kissed the top of her head.

Minhee rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. She placed a hand on her boyfriend’s arm and squeezed it reassuringly. “I promise I’ll be careful. I just want to enjoy the holiday” she reassured him.

Sangmin sighed, still not fully convinced. He wasn’t thrilled about the trip, especially with the snow making everything more dangerous. The resort was nestled deep in the woods, and while it was supposed to be a winter wonderland, the snow could also be a hazard — slippery roads, icy paths, and the constant risk of Minhee falling and hurting herself. The thought made him uneasy.

But Minhee was firm about going even though you tried to make her reconsider. She planned the trip months ago before the baby and she wasn’t going to back out now.

Her determination had left Sangmin with little choice. She was excited, glowing even, and while he worried constantly, he also knew he couldn’t say no to her. It was their first trip together since finding out about the pregnancy, and despite his fears, he wanted to make it special for her.

You exchanged a glance with Mingyu, who was leaning against the car, smirking at the scene. “You two are like an old married couple already,” he teased.

Sangmin shot him a look. “You’d be the same way if your girlfriend was pregnant,” he muttered, his protective stance softening only slightly as he closed the trunk with a thud.

Mingyu smiled to himself as he thought of the possibility of you and him being together, and the way he knew he’d act exactly like Sangmin if you were carrying his baby.

He felt kind of sick for having such thoughts about his best friend, but he was so deeply in love with you and any thoughts he had were always about you and the life he could possibly have if you’d ever return his feelings.

Minhee bugged him for the longest to confess to you, to consider this trip as a perfect opportunity to do so. But for a muscular, six point one foot tall man, confessing to you was something that terrified him the most out of everything.

However, deep down Mingyu knew he couldn’t keep his feelings locked away forever. It was either he grew a pair of balls and confess to you in the most romantic way, or watch you fall in love with someone else. Though he could never let the latter happen.

“Okay, are we all ready?” Minhee asked, breaking him out of his trance.

“Yup” you all responded.

With everything finally secured, you all piled up into the car.

Sangmin got behind the wheel, and his protective nature settled into quiet focus as he checked the mirrors and adjusted the heater. Minhee sat beside him with her hand resting on her stomach in that absent-minded way she often did now. You and Mingyu climbed into the back, already laughing about the playlist for the drive.

As the SUV rolled out of the driveway, the excitement of your New Year’s trip settled over you like the falling snow outside — soft, quiet, and filled with the promise of creating a beautiful memory.

This trip felt like a new chapter for you — a chance to continue the healing you had started after months of heartache. It had been seven months since Jungkook broke up with you.

The break-up obviously blindsided you, and to this day the memory of the pain was still fresh within you.

But Mingyu and Minhee never left your side. Even during those days when you tried to push them away, they remained constant, showing up for you one way or another.

And slowly, with them around you, you started to pick up the pieces. They took you on hikes, dragged you out for movie nights, and sat with you through endless cups of coffee and conversations that ranged from trivial to profound.

Anything to get your mind away from Jungkook, or at least help you take little steps to moving forward. They were the ones who reminded you who you were when you forgot, and they were the ones who had encouraged you to come on this trip as a little getaway from reality.

┈┈┈┈┈

The drive to the forest resort was about five hours, but you didn’t mind — it gave you all time to unwind, catch up, and enjoy the winter scenery. Sangmin drove carefully, the tires crunching over the lightly snow-dusted roads.

Two hours into the drive, the snowfall started to thicken. Flurries turned into heavy, dense flakes, and soon the roads were coated with a thick layer of snow. The windshield wipers worked overtime, struggling to keep the glass clear. The chatter in the car faded as everyone turned their attention to the increasingly dangerous conditions outside.

Everyone except you, who was fast asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder

Sangmin’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He could feel the car skidding slightly as the tires struggled for traction. “It’s getting worse out here,” he muttered.

Minhee looked over at him, her brow furrowed with concern. “Maybe we should stop for a bit. The last thing we need is an accident” she said.

Sangmin nodded in agreement. He’d already been thinking the same thing. The snowstorm was picking up quickly, and he didn’t want to risk driving through it. A small service station sign appeared ahead, offering a bit of relief.

“Let’s pull over here,” he said, guiding the car off the highway and into the lot. The small service station was dimly lit, but it looked warm inside.

“You okay, baby?” Sangmin asked Minhee for what seemed like the hundredth time since they had left the house.

Minhee chuckled softly, rolling her eyes in amusement. “Yes, I’m fine. I promise” she reached over and squeezed his hand.

Meanwhile in the back seat, you were still asleep. The soft from the radio combined with the warmth from the heater had lulled you into a deep, peaceful slumber. Mingyu, on the other hand, kept you close while staring out the window. He just hoped the storm died out soon.

As you all waited for the storm to calm, a sudden chill caused you to stir in your sleep. You nuzzled closer to Mingyu, unconsciously seeking warmth, and buried your face into his chest.

Mingyu felt his heart skip a beat as he looked down at you, your cheek squished against his firm chest. But soon, a soft smile curled up on his lips. Adjusting himself, he wrapped his arms around your small frame and pulled you in closer to his body.

You unconsciously readjusted yourself, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He felt you relax again, your breathing softening once more as you fell back into a peaceful sleep. His heart raced, but he tried to calm himself, focusing on the steady rhythm of your breathing against him.

The snowstorm outside raged on, but inside the car, it felt quiet and still. Sangmin glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed you were asleep against Mingyu. He smirked to himself but said nothing. Minhee, too, saw the scene unfold and exchanged a knowing look with her boyfriend.

“You know, Mingyu,” she began, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible, but still loud enough for Mingyu to hear. Mingyu hummed, raising his head to look at his best friend.

“I think you should confess to her during the countdown” she suggested.

Mingyu sighed, turning his attention down to you who was softly snoring against the crook of his neck. Minhee’s idea wasn’t bad, in fact, it was perfect. But Mingyu wasn't sure.

“I don’t know Minhee” he quietly mumbled.

“What if she rejects me? What if she only sees me as her best friend? I don’t think I’ll be able to handle her rejection” he answered as honestly as he could.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. I know you think her heart’s still with Jungkook because they’ve loved each other for a decade” Minhee began.

“But can’t you see? Our efforts to help her heal are working. Yes a ten year relationship is something that’s going to take a while to move forwards from, but she’s getting there. Sure, she still needs time, but she needs to know that a better man is out there to love her and treat her better. And that man is you, Gyu” she told him.

Mingyu’s eyes started to gloss, his gaze still remained on you.

“Minhee is right,” Sangmin spoke up.

“She’ll only see you as a friend if you keep your feelings hidden. Confession is just a step to take things further, and though she might not feel so strongly at first, I know she’ll grow to love you the way you love her. I promise you that” he said.

There was a long pause, the only sound being the hum of the heater and Mingyu’s soft sniffles as stared at you with longing eyes. His hand unconsciously made its way up and brushed the few strands of hair away from your face.

“She trusts you, Gyu, a lot. She’s grateful for you and everything you’ve done for her. Confessing just means you’re promising her to always be there for her and love her no matter what” Minhee broke the silence.

Mingyu knew you were well unaware of the conversation happening in your presence, and he was glad it was that way. He couldn’t let you see him cry again. It was a side he rarely showed you, because crying made him look weak even though you told him it doesn’t.

“I’ll do it” he quietly said after a pause of silence.

Sangmin and Minhee smiled widely, feeling like they finally accomplished in convincing him. All they had to do now was wait and see, and for that, they were excited. Fingers crossed that everything would go well.

┈┈┈┈┈

[11:50 p.m.]

You stood by the large window of the luxurious forest resort, watching the snow fall gently over the evergreen trees. The storm had finally calmed, but the snow still continued to fall from the sky, covering everything in a soft white blanket. And inside, the warmth of the fire crackling in the stone hearth filled the air.

The resort house was the largest and most expensive one Sangmin could have chosen — an impressive log cabin, but with the charm of a homely, rustic retreat. All so he could make sure Minhee could be more secure and comfortable during the one week stay.

Its wooden beams, dark and polished, stretched across the high vaulted ceilings, while oversized windows offered a perfect view of the snow-covered forest surrounding them. The scent of pine wood mixed with a faint aroma of cedar filled the air, making the entire house feel warm and inviting. Plush leather sofas and fur-lined blankets were scattered across the open living area, where you all had been lounging after your arrival, soaking in the cozy atmosphere.

You stood at the resort’s large open field, surrounded by other guests who were also braving the cold, waiting for the New Year’s countdown and celebration to begin.

The scene was serene, almost magical. The trees that bordered the field were dusted with snow, their branches bending under the weight. The resort’s lights twinkled, emitting a warm glow on the snow-covered ground. Nearby, small groups of people huddled around fire pits, roasting marshmallows, making s’mores, and sipping hot chocolate. The crackle of the fires mixed with the murmur of conversation and laughter. It was the perfect setting for a peaceful night, the warmth of the fires balancing out the cold nip in the air.

Minhee stood beside you, looking content as she carefully sipped her hot chocolate. Sangmin was standing protectively by her side, an arm wrapped casually around her waist. They had been joking and talking about baby names earlier to fill the night with light-hearted conversation.

However, as you looked over at your friends, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. It could’ve been you, with Jungkook.

But this trip was supposed to be a fresh start, a break from the constant ache that seemed to follow you. You couldn’t let anything ruin this perfect atmosphere.

You looked around the field, trying to focus on the beauty of the moment. The snow. The warmth of the fires. The way everyone seemed so carefree.

Mingyu, however, wasn’t part of the lively conversations or the light banter about baby names. He stood just a few feet away, silent and pensive, holding a cup of hot chocolate that had long gone cold. His eyes kept drifting toward you, watching you carefully when he thought you weren’t looking.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Mingyu felt his anxiety rise. It was 11:55 p.m., just five minutes left until the New Year.

He had made up his mind back in the car. He had rehearsed the words a thousand times in his head, but now, standing here in the cold, the words seemed harder to find. His mind raced.

What if you weren’t ready? What if you didn’t feel the same way? He couldn’t imagine losing you as a friend.

Sooner or later, you finally noticed Mingyu’s absence and his lack of interaction, or the way he stood a distance away. You walked over to where he stood and snapped your fingers at him, bringing him back to reality.

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been really quiet” you asked softly, your breath visible in the cold air.

Mingyu forced a smile, “yeah, just…thinking” he sighed. You raised an eyebrow, giving him that look that told him you weren’t buying it.

“About?” you questioned.

“About…you” the words slipped out before he could stop them, and he felt his heart race even faster.

You looked at him, confused, “me?” you tilted your head a little.

Mingyu took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. He chucked his hot chocolate away and faced you fully. There was no turning back now. The countdown began.

“Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…”

“Y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now” his voice was shaky, but he pushed through. He took a step forward, his tall body towering over yours, and took your hands in his.

“I know I shouldn’t be doing this, especially what you’re going through. But you’ve been through a lot, and I hate seeing you like this” he said.

“Mingyu, what are you trying to say?” your voice was low but soft. And your heart was pounding because you saw how his eyes were starting to pool with tears.

“Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”

“I…I love you Y/n. I love you more than just a friend” he finally dropped the bomb.

“I’ve loved you for a long time. Longer than I probably should’ve. But I’ve always been too scared to say anything. I just…I want to be there for you, not just as a friend, but as a lover. I want to love you better than Jungkook ever did” he confessed, his tears finally breaking free.

Your eyes widened. You stared at Mingyu, processing his words, your heart pounding faster and harder inside your chest.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Your silence was killing him, and it made him want to dig himself a six feet deep hole and bury himself inside.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I understand. I just…I just want you to be happy” he sniffled, shaking his head as he let go of your hands and took a step back.

“Three, two…”

Before he could take another step back, you grabbed him by his collars and pulled him in, crashing your lips against his.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The cheers of the guests, the crackle of the fire, the cold — it all faded into the background.

It was just you two.

The fireworks exploded in the sky, lighting up the night with brilliant colors. But all Mingyu could feel were the butterflies that had erupted in his chest. His hands reached to cup your face and kissed you back hard, his heart soaring, unable to believe what had just happened.

When you finally broke apart, your eyes were filled with a mixture of emotions. “I don’t know what this means and I don’t know what happens next,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the fireworks.

“But I think I want to find out…with you” you smiled as you wiped away his tears.

┈┈┈┈┈

Jungkook reclined against the plush cushions of his leather couch, sunk deep into the comfort of its embrace.

The large windows of his high rise penthouse framed the dark expanse of the night. It was illuminated by the bursts of fireworks that exploded across the sky, painting it with flashes of brilliant reds, blues, and golds. They celebrated the arrival of the new year — 2023.

In his hand, he loosely gripped a glass of wine, the deep red liquid swirling lazily with each tilt of his wrist. He stared into it now and again, but his attention wandered back to the windows. His eyes, bloodshot and tired, strained to track the vibrant explosions as they flared in the distance, but his mind seemed somewhere else, adrift in a haze of thought and alcohol. He blinked sluggishly, his eyelids heavy, barely managing to keep them open as he gazed out into the night.

His appearance reflected the complete mess he was. His hair was now disheveled, sticking up in wild tufts as though he'd run his fingers through it one too many times in frustration or exhaustion. The tailored suit he wore hung loosely, the jacket unbuttoned, his shirt wrinkled and partially untucked, its crispness long gone. A loosened tie dangled carelessly from his neck, as though he'd given up on pulling it off altogether.

He looked like someone who had fallen out of sync with the world around him, a man unmoored from the celebration echoing through the city streets below.

The television blared in the background, filling the room with the chaotic clamor of laughter, cheers, and the countdown of voices marking the final moments of the old year. News anchors smiled too brightly, their voices carrying through the penthouse, but the sound was muted, almost faint to his ears. Everything around him felt distant, like watching life play out behind a glass screen. The cheers, the fireworks, the spectacle — it all felt hollow.

His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim lighting of the room, his complexion drained of warmth, the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced than usual. He took a slow sip from the wine glass, his lips barely parting as the bitter taste touched his tongue. It was as though he drank not to enjoy, but merely to pass the time, to keep his hands occupied as his thoughts spiraled inward.

The alcohol coursed through him, dulling the edges of his awareness, but it couldn't mask the exhaustion and depression etched in his face. His bloodshot eyes, glassy and unfocused, lingered on the fireworks outside, though their beauty failed to stir him.

As the night deepened, the sky continued to erupt with color, each explosion a momentary flash of brilliance in the otherwise endless dark. But inside, Jungkook remained still, barely reacting to the bursts of sound or the vibrancy of the display. He was disconnected from the celebration, lost in his own reverie, his body present but his mind elsewhere, heavy with thoughts that weighed him down more than the wine could lift. The year had turned, but for him, the sense of renewal was nowhere to be found.

You were nowhere to be found.

Seven months. Seven months since everything fell apart.

He recalled the ten years he spent with you, filled with laughter, fights, forgiveness, and the kind of intimacy that made the rest of the world fade away.

But now, the only thing that was fading was the memory of your warmth. It was all unraveling, piece by piece, like his life had since the breakup. Your voice, once so lively, had grown dim in his mind. Your laughter, once the soundtrack of his happiest moments, had been replaced by the silence of an empty apartment.

He should be with you.

He could picture you now — your eyes lighting up as the fireworks exploded, your smile wide as you turned to him for that midnight kiss. He could almost feel the soft brush of your lips against his, the way your hand would find his in the moments after, fingers interlacing in a way that made everything else seem irrelevant.

But instead, he was here, alone, watching the world move on while he remained stuck in a place where time felt frozen. The distant sound of the fireworks continued to echo, but to him, it was nothing but background noise. An empty reminder that this was the first of many New Year's Eves he’d have to face without you.

Jungkook’s grip on the wine glass weakened, and he didn’t notice as it slipped from his hand. The glass hit the tiled floor with a sharp crack, shattering into pieces, the wine spilling out like blood.

A choked sob tore from his throat, the first sound he had made in hours. It was raw and broken, a release of the pain he had kept bottled up for too long. His shoulders shook as the sobs wracked his body, tears finally spilling from his eyes, running down his pale cheeks.

He was supposed to be celebrating with you. He was supposed to welcome a new beginning, with you. But he knew it was now impossible. That reaching you was impossible.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what kind of regrets he carried. But what he did know was that perhaps he should’ve fought for you harder.

But none of that mattered anymore. What he was going through, what he needed, and what he felt like, none of it mattered to anyone anymore.

Sacrifices are meant to hurt. Letting go was meant to hurt. Jungkook knew that, but he wasn’t prepared for the agonising pain it came with. But he knew. He knew this was the only way you could be safe.

But why? Why did it have to be the only way?

It was a question he’ll never get an answer to.

He didn’t know what life meant anymore, nor what it held for him ahead. He was just an empty shell walking without a destination.

Perhaps in another life.

[jaeyunbaeun]

Mutual Help | 59

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, explicit content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 18.5k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

Sometimes you decide on things by feelings or whatever seems right at that moment.  

You might've suggested something that has bit you in the ass right back. It didn't feel as satisfactory as it perhaps should have when you hinted on meeting new people. Although, it's a great opportunity for both of you to move on, even though just the thought alone leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. 

Not even the alcohol on it tastes as bitter. 

Regardless of what kind of opportunity it turned out to be, you had to do it. You're slowly losing it and being in Jungkook's presence alone is not helping. 

A jealous kind of person is not what you would describe yourself. When the word jealous comes to one's mind, they think of someone being possessive jealous in the worst kind of way.  You might've been possessive about people around you, but in a healthy way. 

Sure, the thing with Ester is not the greatest example of it, but that was something different. 

There's something building up, something you haven't experienced with Jungkook before. You were jealous in the friendliest possible way. You don't want to dwell on it more than necessary, but with Ester, you were scared of her becoming Jungkook's close friend. It sounds terrible this way, perhaps a little toxic too – it's hard to describe and put it into the right words so one could understand it clearly. There are parts where even you don't understand it.

You're confident about what you and he have. From the moment you met to the point where your friendship is at. Even that is a bit debatable, but you don't want to go there. Not right now. And possibly not in the near future. There are certain things you don't want to think about. 

Ones you're scared of.

Still. Seeing Jungkook having another friend who he genuinely gets along with, in a meaningful way caused you to act on the void you felt. 

But jealousy is a human emotion nevertheless. And you totally hate it at the moment. 

Because there's no Ester or any possible special friendships to be made. This is different. 

Why the fuck you hate staring at Jungkook and Nara. That's what she's named and introduced herself as when she happily sat behind Jungkook, holding his waist as he drove them through the small waves on a jet ski. 

Clearly, sharing a meaningful connection called friendship is not on top of her list. She's smiling the entire time they talk about whatever, even though it's the most casual topic. She's not the typical giggling type that smiles to whatever that's being said just to flirt. She seems genuinely interested in Jungkook. Maybe a little bit too much. 

Okay, definitely. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You tap your fingers on the table, sun setting down as you watch Jungkook and Nara taking a fucking walk along the beach. You hate that after three drinks, you still have your stomach crumbled and twisted around.

There's no reason for you to be mad at Jungkook. You told him to meet people. You freaking hinted about him trying to get it on with other people. Okay, maybe you're irritated he took it seriously and clearly goes for it a little too soon. You also told him you'll be fine here while they go on a walk alone.

“So it's just you two here?” Gabriel asks next to you, catching your attention for the hundredth time in the past three hours. Yes, that's how long you've been spending your time with them. 

They're fun and friendly. Nothing bad about them. Clearly young people who want to have fun. They're relaxed, fun and outgoing. 

So why the hell would you rather have Min Yoongi here than having to witness all of this?

Mentally shaking your head at your ridiculous thoughts, you turn to Gabriel and tear your eyes off those two. You give him a stare that tells him enough about your suspicion by that sudden question. 

“Relax, I'm just asking.”

“And I should believe you because?” you question him. You might've appeared slightly cold toward him. You're not sure if his friendliness wants to aim somewhere else and to something more, or he's just that outgoing. 

Clearly, he doesn't want to back away because he's been very persistent. You give him that. 

There's a slight spark between the tug and pull game. But it's not the one you're looking for. 

“Because I'm telling the truth.”

There's chatter and laughter going from the other people you've been introduced to. You don't remember all of their names though. You hope you won't have to see them after this. God, that sounded so harsh. They're nice, you swear! But!

They don't give you any attention which makes your conversation slightly more comfortable. 

“You're still a stranger. How do I know you're telling me the truth?”

“So just believe me–”

“That literally goes against–”

He laughs. He's handsome. Has a sharp jawline and a cute smile. “You're a piece of work.”

“I know. I'm amazing.”

He can't seem to drop his eyes off you. You've experienced those before. Which is why you're not sure if he's honest about that or if it's the trick of flirting with you. It seems like men always have some kind of ulterior motive behind their behavior. 

You don't hate men. Even if it looks like it. You just don't trust them. 

Unless they are Jungkook, Jimin or Taehyung. 

Surprisingly, at least Gabriel doesn't annoy you in the Min Yoongi type of way. He's nice, not pushy and annoying which you appreciate. 

You glance at him fully, both of you chuckling at your ridiculous conversation. 

There's a deeper meaning behind his question. For the first time, he showed more of his prying persona. You can't blame him. It was bound for people to question it. You've grown used to it.

“Yes, it's just me and Jungkook.”

He nods, already knowing this but traces his glass. He had one beer an hour ago and after that one, he switched to lemonades. Somehow, you find that a little attractive. 

“Our friends were supposed to go with us, but it didn't work for them unfortunately.”

He already knows you're staying at one of the beach houses, which to their expressions, they were a bit surprised to hear that. It's a more expensive side of the beach and while they're staying nearby, it might sound suggestive that you two alone are where families and lovers mostly stay. 

“Didn't work how? What if it's their way to get you together alone?” 

His question has a light tone full of teasing and suggestion, knowing exactly where this is going. He's trying to figure out your relationship with Jungkook, probably not believing two best friends that are on a vacation are only that. Friends. Well, that's quite debatable in all ways but you're not exactly going to share a full depth of anything related to your actual relationship to Jungkook. 

Gabriel doesn't give you any vibes of being a snitch, but he's still a stranger. A handsome one but not even his pretty face could make you spill the tea. Anyway, he's definitely not asking because he's skeptical but mostly asking for himself. 

You would've had to be blind and dumb not to notice his undeniable attention and interest aimed toward you. It's flattering and a compliment, really. More than anything else.

“Well, one of them ended up in a hospital with broken toes, so I would like to think he didn't do it on purpose.”

“Ouch.”

“Exactly,” you deadpan, sipping more of your drink. 

He grins. He has a cocky twist to his smile. There's no denying he's a catch wherever he travels.

“Even though, you never know with him.” you say, watching Gabriel's confused look before you shrug and chuckle under your breath. 

Taehyung loves himself too much to hurt himself. No matter how much he would love you and Jungkook messing around more.

Speaking of him, you glance back at the couple walking down the beach. There's nothing special or weird about it. They're just walking beside each other, there's even some distance between them now. Is Jungkook listening to your previous words and just trying to – you don't even know how to name it. 

Is he trying to get to know someone else in hopes of getting more?

Is he planning to hook up with anyone from this group? 

Because he totally could and there would be nothing you would do about it. But why should you in the first place? It should not bother you. You should be in the front row hyping him up to do it. You should smack his shoulder and tell him to go for it, like all the guys do.

So why can't you?

You believe it's because you've never experienced anything similar to what you have with Jungkook. Obviously, he's more than the sex God you've portrayed him as in your head. He's definitely more than that. But speaking just about that alone, the thought of him going for someone else and showing that side of him to some stranger he just met, honestly bothers you. It's too soon. And you know if you weren't too thoughtful, you wouldn't be in this position because you would've kept hooking up. 

You wouldn't have to worry about him suddenly having sex with someone else. He would never do that when he's intimate with you. 

Fuck. Why are you even thinking of all of this? 

You did what was best for you and him. At the end of the day, it's just a matter of time before something like this happens. And you know it will and you're going to be okay with it. You will move on.

But perhaps you rushed into it. You've panicked and indirectly told him to just have fun. Without you. In that exact sense you're thinking of. 

He's smart. Of course he caught onto the meaning right away and something tells you he's doing exactly that. You can't even be mad at him because you told him. You were the one who encouraged and pushed him to move on.

“I didn't mean to pry,” Gabriel speaks up, reminding you of his presence and your cheeks heat up even more under the sun that's barely up there.

You try to cover up your staring by looking at the sea before finally looking at him. He couldn't see the exact direction of your vision, but he could've guessed because they're right there. 

“I just find it interesting.”

“Interesting?” You frown in confusion.

“You two.”

“What's so interesting about two best friends? Because one is a female and the other male?” 

His brows shoot up, catching up onto your slightly offended tone. “I didn't mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it then?”

He hesitates, but your lifted brow that demands a response causes him to lick his lips as he sighs. “You've been checking him a few times now.”

You grit your teeth together. Not because you're offended that he indeed noticed, but you're embarrassed that he did. 

“I've been checking on my best friend.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, trying to play it off as he puts his hands up in surrender. “I wasn't really trying to suggest something else. I just noticed that your friendship seems… special.”

“And it is.”

He nods, wrapping his hand around the drink as he picks up on the small droplets. “Nara won't bite his head off. She's cool.”

“I wasn't suggesting anything else.” You throw his words back at him. He notices, the left corner of his lips twisting in a smirk but he doesn't say anything about it. 

“Would your friend bite my head off though?”

You arch your brow at him, “And why would he do that?”

“I don't know, maybe for trying to get to know you?”

“You're getting to know me.” you point out, knowing what he's hinting at but you're playing it off. An amusement dances in your eyes and he sees it, his smirk only getting bigger but the determination of getting straight with you is even bigger. 

“I am.” he hums. 

“Well, I can't promise anything. Jungkook is protective.”

“Surely he would understand I don't have any vile intentions. I mean, you're single, right?”

You gulp, stopping for a moment. You could possibly make some kind of situation. You're single but you weren't exactly free and down to meeting someone else. For multiple reasons. You could tell him you just got out of… relationship that had nothing to do with dating. Simply said, you could tell him you had a fuck buddy and now you're just focusing on yourself.

But considering your previous topic, he could easily catch on and for some reason, you don't want to risk it. You don't want any strangers knowing about you and Jungkook. It seems awfully personal and intimate.

“I am.” you mutter.

“So? He can't chase all men away from you.”

And he probably won't. 

“I don't know… he did punch a guy for me.”

“What?” he deadpans. 

You chuckle, “He was my ex. Said some nasty stuff. Kook didn't like it.”

“So he… punched him?”

“Mhm,” You take another sip. “He did deserve it though.”

“I would never say nasty stuff about you. Or any woman.”

What are you supposed to do with that information?

“Never say never.” you shrug. 

“No, I mean it. I wasn't raised like that.”

“I don't think he was either. But sometimes we don't know ourselves. And sometimes we can surprise ourselves too.”

“I get that, but if your friend had to punch him for it, he obviously wasn't good.”

You look at your drink that's slowly disappearing. You should slow down. “He's not a bad guy.”

“Doesn't sound like it.”

You roll your eyes, “You've got an answer for everything, don't you?”

“You seem to be just the same way.” he points out.

“You've known me for a few hours, Gabriel. I could be a total bitch or a completely different person than you've made up in your head.”

“And that's why I would like to know you more.”

You stare at him. 

Having to be in similar situations a few times, this time feels slightly different. Even though he's determined, he's not annoyingly pushy. He's good looking and has something in him that makes you flattered that he's not backing down. Showing a clear interest in you is not something you would gag at or roll your eyes like you usually would have. 

“So if I wanted to invite you for dinner, lunch… whatever you want it to be, would you go?”

“Are you asking me on a date, stranger?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I'm asking to hang with you and get to know you.”

“Umm, isn't that the definition of a date?”

“Could be,” he shrugs, “But I'm from Italy and you live on the opposite side of the world.”

“Exactly.” you point out. 

“Oh come on, just say no if you don't want to.”

“Are you looking for a hook-up, Gabriel?” you question him, not wanting to beat around the bush. Somehow, you know he's honest but you have a hard time believing he's just interested in getting to know you. 

Why? 

Like he said. You live in different countries and both of you don't look like the type to have a long-distance relationship. 

He starts coughing, taken back by your sudden straight-forwardness before he laughs, finding some amusement in it. “If you want to.”

“Is that why you want to get to know me?” 

“No.”

You look at him skeptically, “I'm sorry, I just find it hard to believe.”

“Then I'm disappointed by the man you've encountered.” 

“Hey, I have amazing men around me.”

Two of them probably broke more hearts than any of these people in this group, but they're amazing men regardless of it. It's the fact they never did it intentionally. And Jungkook is the definition of a perfect guy. Perfect in terms of loving and thoughtful person who would give everything to his loved ones. 

“Never said you don't. You love your friends very much, don't you?”

That goes without a question. He sees the look on your face and it causes him to smile. For some reason, he seems smitten by you. Of course he does, look at you. You're amazing.

“You could say they're my second family.”

Perhaps if they were actually here, things would've been a lot different. That goes without debate. 

Taking in the silence that follows, you can't help but glance in the direction where Jungkook and Gabriel's friend are walking down the beach. However, they no longer are and instead you find him taking pictures of her. She makes poses, showing off her toned and tanned body. And then she walks up to him, clinging to his side as he shows her the results. She seems to be impressed, as far as you know, it's hard to see it clearly from this distance. 

And it's for the better, honestly.

“Listen, it doesn't have to mean anything more. Just us hanging out over a good dinner… or a lunch.”

Gluing your eyes back to Gabriel, which seems to be the safer choice, your eyes run over his features as you take a breath – realizing your stiffened posture before you relax.

“I don't have any sick intentions.”

“You know… you constantly making sure I know that kinda makes it harder to believe you.”

He laughs, shaking his head as he smiles at his drink. Your teasing brings some peacefulness into this conversation again. “Just let me know your decision. Take your time.”

You give him a smirk, knowing you're kind of running out of time. Both of you know it and that's why you both grin at each other. Before any of you can say something, the approaching chatter interrupts you. Jungkook and Nara join you, she says something which makes Jungkook smile and that's when he looks up. Your eyes meet and you straighten yourself, ignoring the way your heart squeezes.

“What's up,” Gabriel says next to you, looking at Nara who seems to joyfully sit down and take a few sips of her drink. 

“Got some nice shots. Jungkook here is pure talent. I'ma show you later.” she says, smiling at Jungkook at the compliments she's giving him. 

The corner of his lips turn slowly up before he glances back at you. Looking away, you poke the back of your front teeth with your tongue.

“What's your plans for tomorrow? We were thinking of visiting the water park here. It's brand new and apparently very fun. You wanna join us?” Nara asks, reaching for a bowl of fruit that Gabriel has ordered. “Anyone?” she points at the bowl. 

Everyone shakes their heads before her previous question still sits in the air. She glances between you and Jungkook, awaiting your answer.

Once again, you look at each other without saying anything. 

“They probably have different plans, Nara.” Gabriel notes, shrugging.

Not wanting to let them know about the lingering tension that somehow remains between you two, you take matters into your hands and give Gabriel a smile. “We don't yet, not definite but we'll think of something.”

They seem to be settled with that before the conversation moves to something else. Somehow it seems unfinished and by the time you and Jungkook are alone, walking back to your beach house, the feeling intensifies.

“So what about tomorrow?” 

Jungkook is the first one to speak up once you get inside, a few minutes spent in silence after both of you are finished with your shower. You cut strawberries for yourself you got at the market earlier this morning. 

“I don't know. We don't have any clear plans, do we?” you hum.

“We could look around the Island. See what's up there and decide then.”

“Sounds good.” 

Jungkook stands behind you, in a safe distance but you can feel his eyes burning your back. However, he doesn't make a sound before a silent sigh leaves his mouth.

“Then what?”

“What then?” you frown, focusing on your cutting as he walks up to you. He leans against the counter with his lower back, crossing his arms over his chest. Luckily, he has put a t-shirt on. One second staring at him topless and you would be done for.

He's staring at you. You know he is, yet your eyes stay glued to the cutboard while you're taking your time with cutting the strawberries more precisely than it's necessary. “The water park. You wanna go?”

You halt, pursing your lips slightly. “Do you?”

He sighs again, “I think it would be a nice plan if we feel like it after we're done with the sightseeing.”

You stay silent before he taunts;

“Don't you?”

Your jaw clenches, “I think you should go if you wanna go so badly.”

He laughs sarcastically, “What?”

Fuck. You and your mouth. Composing yourself, you shrug before you put down the knife. “Didn't they want to go during the day?”

“Nara told me they will probably go in the afternoon. The heat is supposed to be crazy tomorrow, it's better to go later in the day.”

Of course, she did. Anything so she could go with Jungkook. 

While that little comment sounds bitter in your mind, you do know Nara wants him to go. And you should not feel angry or annoyed at it. Maybe that's not why you're annoyed at it at all. It's simple knowing that Jungkook wants to go. 

So forcing yourself to smile, you get the courage to stare him in the eyes. “You go if you wanna. I've got plans in the afternoon.”

Silence. For a split second. 

“What?”

Another follows and you wet your lips as you shrug. “I'm going out with Gabriel.”

Well, he doesn't know it yet. He's waiting but you're guessing he will be more than glad to skip the water park. If he doesn't, that's going to be incredibly embarrassing for you and your ego.

Jungkook tongues his cheek, looking away as he scoffs silently. But the overbearing silence makes it ten times louder. “I see.”

“Jungkook–”

“Is this how it's gonna be?”

You gulp, “What do you mean?”

“We came here to spend time together but we spend it separately? Is that how desperately you want me gone?”

“Jungkook!”

He lifts his hand up, the point finger up as he motions for you to be quiet. “I'm going for a walk.”

“You don't have to–”

You don't get to finish it, he brushes past you and is gone before you can take another breath. 

One of the worst habits you possess is the need to spill out anything that bothers you to someone. That someone is in most cases Jungkook, purely because he gives the best advice and comfort to anyone who needs it. He never judges and he just… gets it. He's that person you come to and can tell him anything, somehow the words he says or his mere presence is helpful enough.

For clear reasons he's not available – nor would he be suitable since he's the main reason why you're bothered in the first place. You're the one who messed up. For a moment you wondered whether you should go after him, to talk it out like any healthy person would do. But once you got out of the door, he was nowhere and to be walking alone around the Island with no one by your side is not something you wish to risk. Even though it seems to be safe here, you know he wouldn't be happy if he came back and you weren't here.

Or maybe he wouldn't care. 

You would like to think he would. It's still Jungkook. No matter how many times you fight or there's tension, it's still him. But it feels wrong to count on this all the time, even though it's basic knowledge.

Sure, you've got other friends. 

You wouldn't want to include Maya here. Purely out of knowing what her response might be – you've got to be a little selfish here because you know that's not something you want to hear right now. Anyway, she's probably planning her wedding or spending time with Namjoon. It feels rather awkward to be reaching out just because you find yourself in trouble. By your own responsibility.

But right after Jungkook, Jimin and Taehyung came. 

Jimin is someone who gives you the hard truth, sometimes even scolds you but with the greatest intention. That's not something you need right now either way.

And Taehyung?

He makes everything look easy with the way he sees the world and particular problems. There is barely any problem in his world. He says fuck it on most things with his optimistic persona. He simply just doesn't care. 

Therefore, he's the safer choice than Jimin.

Luckily, once you call him and he's alone, you briefly mention the issue here. You kept it safe for your own sake or selfishness. However, you didn't have to mention anything because he questioned Jungkook's absence right after he complained about Jimin and the fact he brings his girlfriend almost everywhere.

When even Taehyung is silent, you're glad you've chosen a phone call instead of a video one. 

“So, let me get this straight… you go to Hawaii together but you're about to spend it separately?”

“Well–just tomorrow afternoon. I didn't think it's such a big deal.”

“But you purposely encouraged him to–I don't even know how to call it–go and find fun somewhere else?”

You gulp, regretting now that Taehyung's words bite you in the ass. He's right though. “We met this group of girls and–I didn't want him to focus on me only. I want him to have fun.”

Okay, that's half of the truth but it works. You did more for yourself than for Jungkook, naively believing that it will be better for him. But that backfired and it seems he doesn't feel like it's better for him.

“And didn't it get through your pretty head that maybe, just maybe, he wants to have fun with you?”

“Tae–” you sigh.

“Not that kind,” You can tell he has rolled his eyes. “He just wanted you two to have fun in there. I'm pretty sure he didn't think with his dick when he wanted you to go.”

“I didn't say that.”

“I know, I'm just saying.” he hums, “Maybe he feels rejected?”

“What? You think so?”

“I think Jungkook has had a lot planned for the two of you and he imagined he would spend it with you. Not with both of you having fun with someone else, instead with each other.”

“I thought it's better this way.” you mumble. 

Silence follows and you're not sure whether Taehyung heard or not, but you hear his soft sigh on the other end. “You do your thing tomorrow and he will do his. Or just spend the afternoon the way you wanted, just with each other.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is.”

“Tae, we were invited. I was asked for lunch–or dinner–whatever.”

“So? Fuck anyone else,” There it is. “Anyway, is the girl hot?”

“What.”

Taehyung laughs, “The girl that so seemingly goes after our Jungkookie.”

“I never said she's going after him.”

“You didn't have to, babe. It's clearer than Jimin's questionable choice of a girlfriend.”

“You're being rude, leave Jimin and his girlfriend alone.”

He snorts, laughing as you join. “I would ask you to send me pictures of the girls, but I kinda don't want to. I would regret not being there.”

“Can you not think with your dick when your friend here is in crisis?” you mutter.

“You got yourself there, hun.”

“You're not helping.” you grit through your teeth, hearing him laugh.

“Look, just talk to him. You guys communicate well. Well–it's bumpy these days but you got it.”

“How's your leg?” you ask instead, listening to Taehyung's complaints while your mind is elsewhere.

When Jungkook doesn't come within an hour, you're seriously starting to get worried. He has left in a hurry, therefore has forgotten his phone that mockingly sits on one of the small tables. Even though he's a man, you're worried for his safety no matter how safe this Island seems to be. 

Just as you're about to grab your things and go search for him, the door clicks open and there he is. 

Head low and almost looking like a kicked puppy, you debate whether to jump on him to hug him or slap him for making you so worried. If the roles were reversed, there's no doubt that he would search the entire Island for you. And that's not exaggerating at all. 

Yet, you stand there – waiting for him to look up and be stopped by the glare you're giving him across the room.

“Where the hell have you been?”

You're angry. More at yourself than anyone else, but him scaring the shit out of you comes handy at the moment. 

You know that defeated look. You both hate fighting. It's crazy you've never been through such hard times in terms of fighting than you have in the past year. Sure, looking at it optimistically, you've learned to communicate better. Sometimes. 

Not particularly now. And you know some of it is mostly your fault now. 

Being honest means much more than just that. 

However that once mentioned defeated look is long gone. As soon as that tone and words leave your mouth, he glares at you with those intense dark eyes. 

It doesn't matter that you sound like a mother scolding his son for coming home late. 

“I went for a walk.” he says calmly, but there's something on the tip of his tongue. And his face says it all. I told you that.

You scoff. Before anything else can be said, he simply walks past you and you watch at the spot he just stood at in complete disbelief. 

“That's it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” he offers, giving you I don't give a fuck attitude as he plops on the couch and stretches his legs on top of the table.

He grabs his phone and scrolls down through his notifications. He must know he forgot it here. There's no way he doesn't know now. But there's no sight of realization or anything. He simply seems like he doesn't care.

Not about that and certainly not about you stomping to the room. 

“Are you serious now?”

He looks up from his phone, moving only with his eyes and you're stunned for a second. He's waiting. 

“If I stormed out like that, you would give me hell for it!” you scold him.

“I told you I went for a walk. We both needed to cool off.”

You fumble over your words and try to make sense of them. 

His eyes say it all. It looks like you haven't.

“Yeah, without your phone and you were gone for an hour!” 

You watch him stare at you for a moment, sighing as he tosses his phone on the couch. “I'm sorry.”

The surprise on your face is evident. 

“I forgot it. Didn't realize I was gone for so long.”

Well, an hour isn't so long but yeah, it felt like it. Especially the way he left.

You relax, a soft puff of breath leaving your lips before you nibble onto them with your teeth. You come closer, your knee resting against the armrest. 

“I will cancel on Gabriel.”

He frowns, almost confused why would you do that. For a split second you feel embarrassed. 

“So we can spend more time together.” you elaborate further. 

“You don't have to do that out of pity or whatever.” he points out.

This is stupid. You're stupid.

“I'm not doing it out of–”

“Besides, I have a few plans throughout our stay here. Starting from tomorrow.”

“What,” you deadpan, hating the weird pressure and intuition that rises every second until he proves it right.

“I arranged it with Nara.”

It's dead silence for a moment. You're letting the information sink in until you breathe out in even bigger disbelief.

“What,” It's quiet, almost painful before you glance at his phone. “Your phone stayed here.”

“Met her during my walk.”

Oh, and she so accidentally appeared right where you were, huh?

He's not looking at you, staring at nothing in particular with a distant gaze. 

“So let me get this straight–” You hold yourself together so you don't burst in anger. “You make a scene for not spending this vacation together and now you just make plans throughout it without me?”

You realize it's mostly said from your point of view and you fucked up, but him accepting it is even more defeating than anything else about this.

“As far as I know, you made plans too. Isn't this a good way of meeting new people?”

He's throwing it back at you. Clenching your jaw, you painfully swallow as you nod. “I see,” you mock his words, “You're right.”

And you walk out of the room – not knowing whether you should strangle him or yourself first. Only time can tell.

It's safe to say that sometimes your intention escalates and creates a new wave of something that can hardly be described positively. A part of you blames yourself for opening your mouth, even though your own intention behind it was not wrong. It wasn't supposed to cause any of this.

Already embarrassing as it is, having to lay next to Jungkook throughout the entire night has been another level. You've been tossing around, wondering if he's doing the same whenever you fall asleep for a few minutes until you're awake again. Seems like he's not particularly doing bad, but once again, there's an argument between you that has been maybe talked about, but definitely not solved. 

You stick to your plans that have been planned out for most of the day. You've gone sightseeing, fed rescued animals and even visited local museums. Basically, done activities where other people mostly talked and you both listened – you were just there. Standing next to each other, walking beside each other but if it wasn't for these facts, some might think you were strangers.

And that thought that randomly crossed your mind hurt. 

But you're just as stubborn. 

This is for the better. Sure, you should probably make a mend, it would definitely make things easier and better. But you will try to focus on other people as well. Being with Jungkook alone on this vacation – well, it's not like you have many opportunities to focus on anything else.

But that could change. And it can change. 

It's for the best. You both got distracted. Preferably with each other. 

So when the time comes, you both end up at the beach nearby the beach house you're staying at. However, this time it's for you to get separated and each go your own way. Gabriel's friends are already there, wearing their swimsuits and covering it with thin layers of clothing. And then there's Gabriel as well.

You texted him, agreeing to the dinner but proposed to meet sooner. The truth is, you couldn't be alone at the house knowing where Jungkook is. It would eat you alive to be alone with your thoughts of blame and regret. 

You have no idea where you will be going, perhaps more sight-seeing but you hope Gabriel has something planned out at the last minute. Sight-seeing reminds you of Jungkook as well, since you've spent your entire morning until midday.

You have not spoken ever since you came back. You both showered and changed clothes, here you are. Perhaps you've spent more time on your make-up. Your skin is glowing, covering everything that is laying beneath much deeper.

Summer dress with slightly low cut cleavage felt like the right choice. It's perfect for day time, could be great for night time as well and most importantly, you're not trying to look overly hot. This dress is practical. 

And you have no idea what's up with men and summer dresses because you feel like you attract men's eyes as soon as they can make out your figure. Gabriel is speechless, though he's grinning and doesn't fail to give you a compliment. 

Before you know it, Jungkook and Gabriel's friends bid you two a goodbye. Well – mostly Gabriel's friends because Jungkook is awfully quiet and doesn't even spare you a glance as he chats with Nara. 

Jaw clenched, you turn around and smile widely at Gabriel. “So what's the plan?”

“Mm, don't kill me but I thought we could get a snack or something, wait–have you eaten?”

“I have,” 

During lunch time with Jungkook. No matter how intense it seems to be between you, he still made sure you've eaten something. It's hard to be mad at him. But one memory of what happened just seconds ago is enough to make your features harden, just like your heart does.

“Have you?”

“I have,” he answers, “Cool, we can go to that dinner I promised you.”

You give him a slight chuckle, both of you walking nowhere specific. 

“But maybe we could go to the water park as well?”

“What,” you stop, chuckling nervously. The whole point of going out was not to be in Jungkook's presence. “The others just left.” You point behind you, pretty sure they are no longer there. 

“I kinda hoped we would go there alone.”

You give him a look, causing him to grin as he shakes his head. “Nothing creepy, I swear. Is it bad that I want you all for myself?”

“You will give me creeps if you continue to speak to me like that.” 

He grabs his chest, pretending it hurts there. “Ouch. Is it always so hard to charm you?”

You look away, shrugging. “Not always.”

At least you didn't lie. 

Best way to distract yourself is to do something. Anything that can't help you from thinking, or even overthinking. You give Gabriel that. Even though he has no idea he indirectly helped you and made your day better, attractions are a good way to just enjoy the presence. You allow yourself and your mind to be present with him. 

You laugh and nicely enough, Gabriel is sweet and keeps his hands to each other. He doesn't give you creepy vibes – you're not sure if you wanted him to. He's polite, gentleman and funny. Everything anyone would like to see in a guy you're spending time with. 

You talk, filling almost every second and moment with words. And yet, still somewhere rooted inside you, you keep looking around, hoping you won't meet Jungkook. Possibly see something you don't want to. You want him to have fun. 

But deep inside you feel like you've pushed him to do this. It's stupid. You proposed something. You never forced him to do anything. But just because it hasn't been done directly, doesn't mean the outcome is not the same. 

And you do it again. So you go to the first attraction you see, the water ride. You take Gabriel's hand, pulling him towards it until you're seated and drenched in water. After you're done, you both laugh at each other's appearance.

“I wonder if they sell towels here.” Gabriel says, praising himself for wearing slippers instead of actual shoes. His shirt is drenched, showing some of his abs. But you're respectful, you're not looking. 

“It's hot, we'll be dry in thirty minutes.” you laugh, squeezing more water from the rim of your dress. It falls down your legs. 

“True–how about–”

“Gab? What are you guys doing here?” 

Coming from the side, you both glance at the way where one of the girls walks with the entire group of Gabriel's friends behind her. Great.

All you hear is Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. He must be around here but you don't dare to let your eyes travel further.

“We wanted to try some of the attractions too.” Gabriel answers as if it's not a big deal. 

Although he's met with some confused looks from his friends, they're not overly judgy and you get them. None of you mentioned going here before. 

“You could've gone with us. Oh god, did you guys just go on this ride? We went there first, you should've seen us! Actually–Nara and Jungkook just went there like ten minutes ago and–” She starts looking behind her, pointing in that direction but she doesn't have to. 

Your eyes naturally find him there. Walking, unbuttoned shirt that is drenched similarly to your dress. The difference is that you can see his skin, a few droplets here and there as the sun shines on his tanned skin.

“We did–I wanted Y/N for myself, is that so bad?”

And that's when Jungkook looks up, undoubtedly catching Gabriel's words and your stare as well. Seconds pass by and someone keeps talking, but you don't pay attention. Jungkook's eyes travel down your figure before a slight frown settles on his face. 

Looking down, and you hate that you do, you follow his line of vision. The outline of your breasts is visible, nowhere near explicit to the point where anything is visibly clear, but even the slightest perks of your hardened nipples can be noticeable if one truly looks there. This dress doesn't require a bra, the material around that area is thick enough. 

When you were picking this dress, you weren't counting on getting it wet by any means. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, Jungkook stares directly at you this time. Something about his gaze is so intense that you're not sure whether you're naturally nervous or aroused. Fuck. 

“We were just about to get frozen yogurt, you guys wanna join? We'll leave you alone, I promise.” Matt, one of their friends jokes, causing all of them to chuckle just to tease Gabriel. 

Gabriel is not a shy person. He rolls his eyes playfully at them, ignoring them right after before he looks down at you. He's taller than you, not as tall as the man who stands across you and you feel his eyes on you. It burns. 

“What do you say? Frozen yogurt?”

Frozen yogurt is the least of your worries right now. The right thing would be to refuse and come up with some kind of excuse, maybe trying the good old I wanna try more attractions. Just so you could finally escape the burning gaze that is ten times hotter than the sun above your heads. 

But the annoyance that slowly simmers inside you, followed by Jungkook's unpleasant face, changes your mind. Lips stretching into a wide smile, making sure Jungkook sees it and hears you loud and clear. 

“Sure, frozen yogurt sounds great.” Delightful, you want to say. 

The others cheer, clearly happy to have Gabriel join them. You see Matt throwing his arm around Gabriel's shoulders, teasing him, undeniably about you as Gabriel shakes his head and with laughter pushes him away. 

“You havin' fun?”

Jungkook walks next to you, looking ahead and not giving you one last glance. His jaw is clenched and you smile, amused and pleased even. 

“Are you?”

“Wonderful,” he mutters.

“Good.”

“Good.”

Scoffing, you open your mouth but before any remark can make it out of your mouth, a woosh of coldness and pressure causes you to stop in your tracks. Most of it is blocked by Jungkook whom you manage to see turning his back, facing you while he shields you from the impact before your eyes are forced to shut.

The nearby attraction has splashed you, a few more people being a victim of it as they either laugh, curse or freeze in shock. Even your newfound friends who have managed to avoid the splash, gasp in surprise as they stare at the two of you. 

You're fully drenched, every inch of you covered in water as you can feel it drip down your dress. So much for being dressed nicely. 

“Oh my god, are you guys okay?” Gabriel asks, walking over to you.

Though you look up at Jungkook, who stares at you before his eyes drop down to your chest. You know his stare is not an act of lust, more of acknowledgment you should make. You don't have to look. You feel it. 

Your arms cover your breasts, turning to Gabriel to respond to him. However before you're able to utter a single word, you feel a soft touch of hand over your lower back. 

“We have to change clothes.”

“I saw a stand with some clothes where the kids' attractions are.” Nara tries to help, pointing in the left.

Jungkook ushers you to move before you can get drenched any more than you already are. Stupidly, you let him and you hate how you enjoy his hand on you. Maybe it has something to do with Nara watching. 

There are no words said as soon as you distance yourselves from the rest of the group, leaving them up to their activities while there's a suffocating air surrounding you. The burning weather has nothing to do with it this time.

You watch Jungkook pick random shirts and shorts once you get to the stand. The older man who sells it tells you that this happens pretty much often, that's why there are a lot of towels and clothes for sale. Of course, it always has a Hawaiian theme or a water park one. You let Jungkook interact with the seller while you linger behind him, offering him a soft smile in return because that's all you can do. 

“There is a changing room with a restroom around the corner. It's more to the side, so it's not much crowded, in case the lady needs more privacy.” he advises nicely.

Smiling one last time, Jungkook briefly nods as he follows the man's directions and leads you to the mentioned changing room.

He forgot to mention it's a single room. You can still hear screams and laugh from the side, but it's more isolated right now. You get inside, scanning the room. It's spacious. There are hangers on the wall, a basic bin and a sink. A huge mirror is spread across the one wall, the lighting is shitty though. The light bulb weirdly glitches but there is no weird smell in here. You hate public bathrooms, especially at water parks. 

Surprisingly, there's not much water on the floor. The man was right. There are not many people who use this changing room. You've seen a couple of them when you were walking with Gabriel, but you haven't thought much about it. It sort of makes sense now.

The door clicks behind you, causing you to look across your shoulder. “Umm, where are you going?”

Jungkook looks up, brows frowning as he grows slightly offended by the question. “To change?”

His own question holds an attitude and you just stare in bewilderment for a moment. But when he doesn't move an inch, stubbornly standing his ground, you frown as well. 

“Can't you wait?”

“Can't you wait?”

You scoff, almost laughing how childish this situation is. When Jungkook is mad, he can get slightly childish or let you feel all the nice things he does for people, until he stops it just to get petty. Not that you can't complain. You do the same things. 

However, you use your mouth much more than he does. He's more subtle with it. 

“I was here first.”

It's childish, you know it, yet you still point out when you're not sure how to react in the first place. Jungkook laughs under his breath.

“I wanna get out of these clothes as much as you do. Let's turn around and not look at each other.” he proposes, thinking that's the problem. 

Little does he know you could care less if he sees you naked or whatever. You hate the way the water drips down his body, the ends of his hair picking up all the water until it slowly drops and it does the same thing seconds later. You hate how his tan body peeks through the opened button-up. 

He's here. Yet it seems like he's never been further since you came to Hawaii.

All of this is stupid. You've been through much worse back home and you were able to make up.

But there's a lot of stubbornness and until you get there, you'll have to get through this somehow. 

“You think that's the problem?” you question, seeing him giving you a confused look as he starts taking off his button-up. 

He turns around to the sink, squeezing any water access he can from it. You don't move. You just shamelessly stare as he completely unbothered continues to do what he came here to do.

How dare he? Your self-consciousness mocks you.

“And what's the problem here exactly?”

He doesn't even spare you a glance, continuing to squeeze his completely scrunched up shirt.

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“I asked, didn't I?”

You scoff, ready to pounce on him. Not the good kind. 

“There's a thing that's called space.”

The double meaning sits in the air, yet he doesn't look perplexed by it. For all you know, he doesn't even notice it as he bluntly continues his task. It pisses you off. 

“There's enough space between us.” he simply says.

Your chest squeezes, causing you to purse your lips for a second as you breathe out. “You can't be serious right now.”

“I'm not even looking at you,” he scoffs, “I'll just change my clothes and I'm out of here. If you wanna just stand there and wait, you're free to do that.”

The audacity of this man is beyond the words. Is this how payback feels like?

“Oh, got it. You're eager to get out of here.” So you can get back to Nara, you want to add but decide not to. You would sound like a jealous bitch.

Somehow, Jungkook seems to get the hidden meaning behind it, almost as if he could hear your thoughts from out here. He chuckles, it's just the amused look he gives you that barely lasts a second, but it leaves you breathless and all exposed. 

The dress clings to your skin, you want nothing more than to take it off. You don't dare to move though. 

“May I remind you it's you who wanted me so eagerly to be out there?”

It's like you speak in riddles, yet you both know the exact meaning of them. You both don't dare to say it out loud. 

Getting tired of it, but mostly letting out the anger that you mainly hold for yourself, but for the man in front of you as well, you take an angry inhale of breath. 

“What exactly is it that you want, Y/N?” His voice rings loudly in your head, even though there's nothing loud about his tone.

Shakingly breathing out, you quietly point out; “You can't be fucking your best friend, Jungkook.”

The emphasis on your relationship is clear, though all Jungkook does is chuckle under his breath, scoffing. He throws his shirt into the sink, walking up to you. Your breath catches, though you can't almost anticipate once he's close to you. He stops, just centimeters from touching you. You can smell his faded cologne sticking to his skin and you almost crumble. 

“What if I wanted to?”

“Jungkook–”

“You always make a decision without talking to me. It is yours, I respect it,” He stops for a brief moment. He stares your face up and down. “What exactly are you so scared of?”

And the fear comes rushing to you, mainly located in your chest as your hands flinch to squeeze it. You remain standing there, not being able to look him in the eyes. His eyes are on you, you feel every inch of them, the proximity they shine. 

“This is ridiculous.” You try to move past him but he stops you. 

“It is,” he agrees, “Is this about sex?”

“It's not just about that!” you argue, voice hushed and almost scandalized that you're having this conversation in public. You only hope there's no one standing outside, able to hear you. 

You heard Jungkook locking the door, but still – there might be people waiting. 

“I know you,” he says silently but clearly. “I know there's something going on inside that pretty head of yours that you're not telling me.”

“Stop.”

“Are you in love with me?”

You gasp, “What? No!” you push him, palms against his chest but he holds you by your wrist, amused by your sudden outburst.

“So why are you so adamant on pushing me away? All of a sudden, may I add?”

He's asking all the right questions and you despise it at the moment. 

“You can't be fucking me forever, Jungkook. It must've ended at some point.”

“Oh–and you just decided on it without talking to me?” he scoffs, “You just randomly pushed me onto some random chick.”

“If I remember, you're willingly spending your free time with this random chick.”

He grins, though there's nothing genuine about it. It's fueled with cockiness. 

You might realize there's more to Jungkook's reaction. You suddenly start to understand why he's maybe hurt by your sudden twist of emotions. While you never came out of the wrong place, at least your intentions never did, you might understand what his problem is.

He expected you to communicate with him about it. He might be right about that, but you also had your own reasons and yes, maybe you fucked up and it didn't go as planned, but you won't take the blame for all of it. 

It's hard to focus on it though, especially when there's unspoken annoyance and anger dancing around you two. 

“It was your suggestion.” he states matter-of-factly.

One, you regret.

He lets go of your wrists, but not before rubbing it softly with his thumbs. It's a minor detail, one you almost don't notice but it would be a total shame if you would. 

“With a good intention.” 

“And what's the intention?” he asks right away, tone slightly more defensive. “Huh?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out of it.

Exactly – Jungkook's face says it all.

“To push me away? Because you're too scared to communicate?”

Jungkook's annoyance comes mostly out of this. You've used to communicate and talk about everything. And that brings you to the point. Things have changed. There are minor details, perhaps even more minor than Jungkook's faint touch of affection he gave to your wrists just now. But in these kinds of situations you can perfectly see them. 

Does he not see it?

“Fine,” you spit out, “You want me to communicate? I will.”

“About time!” he exclaims.

“I want you to meet new people. Be open to meeting new people.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he grimaces. 

“You can't be open to meeting someone when you're fucking me the entire time!” you exclaim back, chest heaving as he looks taken back.

That's all gone as his brows furrow. “That's not your decision to make. When I'm ready to meet someone, I will.”

“That's not what I meant–”

“Really? Because that's all I could gather. If I wanted to be single for years, I easily could and that has nothing to do with you.”

Ouch.

“I know–”

“Do you?” he asks. “Because to me it seems like you don't get it. If you didn't wanna have sex with me so badly, you could've just easily called it off. For the hundredth time anyway.” he mocks the last part.

That's where you gasp and come up to him, invading his space. He doesn't seem to mind.

“But you wanted it, didn't you?”

He taunts you, even though you're in his face, looking angry as ever – he remains calm and has all the control.

“A part of you still wants it. That's why you can't see me with Nara–”

“That's not about her.”

“Is it not?”

“No. I told you to meet people. That's all I wanted, don't you remember?”

He scans you for a moment. “So we're at this point where we can fuck whoever we want?” 

Fuck. You did not expect him to ask this. Nor did you expect to get to this point. You led him to it. You are the reason why he's asking this. You don't blame yourself for this, it's a simple fact. It will happen sooner or later. 

So why the fuck there's an answer caught in your throat?

“Do you want that?” he continues. “I promised you we would go here as friends. No sex. Anything.”

Your throat feels dry, painfully dry that it even hurts to swallow. There's nowhere to escape. There's an imaginary spotlight set on you, Jungkook's determined gaze making up for it. 

“We agreed to come here as friends.”

“That's not what I'm asking.” His response comes quickly.

He stares at you, searching your face for something unknown and you shift under his gaze, causing your own eyes to trail somewhere else. You can't hold eye contact. He waits. But when he doesn't get anything in return, he simply scoffs or chuckles under his breath – you can't tell – and takes a few steps away from you.

His shorts go next, he takes them off and tries to squeeze any excess water. 

“I just wanted you to–I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet someone new. It wasn't supposed to come out as pushy or anything.” you murmur gently under your breath. 

He stops for a brief moment, not moving. “How about talking to me next time, yeah?”

You nod, though you're not sure if he sees it. He's not even looking at you. Brows pinched in together, you watch him continue with his task. 

“Noted.” You drop your head low.

“If you want to fuck someone else so badly, just tell me.”

“That's not–” Your reaction comes fast. Eyes wide and mouth open, you shake your head. “You think–”

“Don't you?” he almost accuses you. 

“You think I–” You make air quotes with your fingers, “pushed Nara on you because I wanna fuck someone else?”

“I no longer know what I think.”

“If I wanted to do that, I would.” You assure him, comically using the same words he has used not that long ago. It's the truth. 

“Good to know.”

“Good,” you exclaim. “I guess we can both agree that we're capable of doing what we want.”

“Are we?” 

Your mouth slightly opens. “Huh?”

“Are we capable of doing what we want?”

The shorts join his scrunched up shirt in the sink, knowing Jungkook will wash the hell out of it once he gets back. He loves to do his laundry. But that's besides the point. 

What matters is how Jungkook inches closer to you, his eyes eating you up and noticing you haven't shredded a single piece of clothing. You catch a glimpse of your face in the mirror. Your pupils wide, an expectation screaming out of them while your skin remains wet. Trails of water trailing down between your breasts. 

He follows it before his eyes slowly go up until they meet yours.

“Perhaps it's a curse or talent, but one look at you and I can already tell where your mind's at.”

He doesn't make you feel pathetic. He simply comments but finds some sort of enjoyment in it. The male's ego is never truly gone and you wish you could crash it, verbally using your mouth as you're good at it. It doesn't matter that his implication is true – it doesn't matter you both know it. You would fight and argue, just to compete his ego with your own. 

It seems like you're not able to this time. 

“Yeah? And where's your mind at?” you try to sound unbothered, but the way your chest slowly starts to heave up completely betrays you.

“At the same exact place where yours is. Unlike you, I'm not ashamed to say it out loud.”

He backs you to the counter, nowhere near touching you – yet he does it with a single stare and has you exactly where he wants you. The tip of your toes almost touch, his figure hovering over yours.

Gulping, you try to play it cool. “Go on then. Tell me.”

He chuckles, it's soft but holds amused darkness that's wrapped around his cords. “If you insist.”

You don't. But you play into this fake illusion of not knowing what he's talking about. Just a pure excuse to try and prove him otherwise. To be honest, you might be curious about what he has to say. Jungkook has a good judgment for a character – when it comes to you. That obviously does not apply to his exes.

“I'm supposed to be somewhere else, physically and mentally, but here I am thinking of different ways of having you.”

You stop yourself just in time not to gasp out loud, showing him a vocal reaction other than your heart picking up its pace just at the single thought of it. Let alone having to hear him confess that. 

Clearing your throat, you try to straighten your posture but end up brushing against his chest. You do your best at ignoring it, staring him straight in the eyes. “And that's what I want?”

Don't lie to yourself, the little devil of your consciousness ironically laughs. Of course you know all of this, you just have this urge to prove him otherwise and crush that confidence he has within himself. 

“Please, you're already salivating just from the thought of it.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you argue: “No, I am not.”

“Tell me,” he cocks his head to the side. “Would you rather bend over the counter or sit on it?”

He sounds nothing but curious, not even feeding to your delusions of him being out of touch with reality. Only he is not. 

“You're an idiot.” you breathe out, trying everything to sound scandalized or offended. You would be able to fool if it was anyone else. But not him.

“For speaking the truth?”

“You're saying it as if I would want that. Listen to what I'm saying.”

He chuckles, shaking his head lightly. “Words are irrelevant when your eyes practically beg me to touch you.”

You know he chose a lighter version of what he would initially say. He wants to be way more explicit, but you're both dancing on the edge.

“You think you know everything when it comes to me.” It sounds ridiculous coming out of your mouth. He doesn't appear to be offended because you both know how much he truly knows you. 

To bring this conversation to a different topic, he chooses to ignore it and simply smiles. 

“So if I were to do this–” He lightly touches the side of your neck, wrapping his hand carefully around it. You inhale shakily, not being able to control it. “Would you tell me to stop?”

He gently massages your pulse that moves under his thumb, watching goosebumps appear on your soft skin. His hand is gone before you can blink, but is soon replaced by his fingertips tracing down your neck, past your collarbone until they stop at top of your breasts. 

“Hm?”

You're not able to react. Your chest heaves, a glare fixated on him but no sound comes out of your mouth. He has you. Wrapped around his fingers, proving his point. Because of his ego and confidence, you know he's proving it to you rather than to anyone else. He can be that annoying. 

Close to leaning toward his touch, the tip of his fingers play with the hem of your dress, occasionally and very faintly touch your skin. His other hand goes down, playing at the fabric of where your dress ends. It goes up, fabric gathering over his wrist. You shudder, mentally begging him to do more.

As if he could read your mind, his eyes look up without having to move his head, dark sinister spark in them. When he doesn't see you protesting, merely making sure of your current state, he does not waste a second and pulls the top hem of your dress. Revealing your breasts, he sucks in breath at the perked nipples. His hold on the dress tightens and within seconds, his mouth is wrapped around your nipple.

“Fuck.” you moan, throwing your head back as you arch into him.

He's like a starving man, perhaps he is from the stupid condition you've made up, but so are you. The other hand grasps the back of your thigh, molding his fingers into your skin as if he wants to leave as many imprints as he can. 

Teeth grazing your teeth, he wraps his hand around your neck once more and makes you look at him. You just stare at each other, not an ounce of shame written on your faces. Your noses touch, your mouth already opened as small gasps similar to moans escape. You beg him to kiss you. 

He doesn't. 

Instead, he drops down to his knees and before you know it, his hands disappear underneath your dress and shamelessly pull down your only piece of underwear. Once that's done, he hoists up your leg over his shoulder and dives in right away. You can barely grab the edge of the sink counter and balance yourself on it, before his mouth is on you. 

“Jungkook–”

You swear you hear him chuckle, but you're too distracted by the shots of pleasure he's attacking you with. He shows no mercy. Fingers wrapped in his hair, you tug onto his roots as he moans against you. 

Nobody does it like you. 

While that thought normally scares you, now you're fucking grateful he's the one that's between your legs. 

You come embarrassingly fast, trying to keep yourself silent from moaning and embarrassingly so, you have no idea whether you've succeeded or not. Jungkook fucks you through it with his mouth, stopping just at the right time as he pulls away.

Lips swollen and red, eyes drinking you up, he effortlessly stands up. “Was this anything relatively close to where your mind was?”

It was far dirtier but there's nothing to be disappointed about. When it comes to orgasm and Jungkook, he never disappoints. 

“I can't complain.” you breathe out, watching how he pulls up your dress and covers your breasts to give you at least some kind of modesty. 

It's a single detail, one he never had to do and you never fully noticed – but no matter what, Jungkook always looks out for you. A blunt apology wants to come out, for numerous reasons of the misunderstanding of your own fears and good intentions, but Jungkook takes a few steps back. 

“Change your clothes, I will wait outside.” he says, quickly changing his own before leaving you up to it. 

You turn around, not being able to let go of the counter as you grip it harder and stare at your face. He didn't even go all the way and you look like you've had the time of your life. 

Once again, you and Jungkook have succumbed to your desires and broken the only condition you've had for this vacation. It should leave you disappointed and perhaps you are little, but you're definitely satisfied for the time being. 

At least until you have to walk out of the door and face the storm in the form of your best friend. 

Your knees and hands have stopped buckling by the time you've changed into dry clothes. Nothing screams more than a tourist wearing an oversized shirt with a huge label saying “I love Hawaii”, an image of a red heart replacing the word love. It's something you would've worn to bed to sleep in – or at the beach to cover up the least – not parading yourself in it in public. 

The sense of fashion is the last of your worries or things on your mind though. 

Jungkook has waited outside of the door, guarding it safely. After his sudden leave, you did not lock the door which could be a terrible mistake if Jungkook wasn't there to make sure no one walks in. Somehow, you knew he was right behind that door.

The walk toward the rest of the group is spent in silence. As if his mouth wasn't all over your private areas. The memory of it makes an excitement bubble in your stomach, even though it should probably be at least a hint of some kind of regret. 

You do not regret the act itself. Mostly, it's just you being so weak to prevent it. 

Maya would surely get the baggage off your shoulders, supporting this wild decision. But she just doesn't get it. 

Simple walk to find your newfound friends – or whatever you would call them – makes you miss your real friends. You wonder how things would go if they were here. 

Maybe it's just your stupid naivety of believing that it would be different. No matter what, it seems you and Jungkook always find your way to each other – intimately speaking. 

One thing's for sure. 

Jungkook has confronted you. There's truth to both sides. 

Of course the man can have anyone he points his finger at. It was your foolishness to think this vacation was the perfect chance at it. Selfishly, you might've done it more for yourself than for him. 

And what if you would meet someone as well? 

It would certainly make things easier. The decision would be way easier too.

Gabriel is handsome. Hot and charming. Practically the perfect package for a vacation hook-up. And as much as would be leant toward maybe kissing him at least, you can't do that when Jungkook is right there. 

Once you find them, the mood is sour between you and you're not even trying to hide it. Maybe it's the lack of smile and a big portion of silence that makes them notice it. No one comments on it. In fact, you don't think it's worth being commented on. 

Their positivity and good mood continues to be unaffected.

“We dodged the whole frozen yogurt, heard there are these best waffles somewhere around here with fresh fruit. Wanna go there instead?” Gabriel is the first one to ask, eyes finding your figure as soon as you approach them.

In this heat, sweet food or a snack is the least of your cravings. 

“I'm actually not hungry at all,” you respond, feeling guilty for not being up for this idea. 

Gabriel looks confused for a moment, certainly remembering you were all up for frozen yogurt just a few minutes ago. Like the gentleman he is, he doesn't question you but you can see the questions running inside his head. 

Maybe he doesn't want to do it in front of his friends. 

“The heat is killing me.” you add, trying to save it.

He nods, glancing toward the man next to you who hasn't made a move to… move. “Jungkook?”

“I already had a dessert.” he comments, shamelessly staring at the side of your face.

Eyes almost bulging out, you keep your calm and try to not react. Even though Jungkook has not worded it out weirdly to give anyone a big suspicion, it's you and your guilt that makes it think it's so obvious. You wish you could glare at him, but you know there are eyes on you.

“We stopped by the fruit stand, so we had that on our way here.” you lie, straight through your teeth and even though you could be defined as the worst liar ever, this lie comes out sweet and believable. But it's Gabriel's eyes that continue to stare and watch you like you're the biggest open book. 

Fuck.

“Yeah, the fruit here tastes nice.” Jungkook continues and you do everything in your power not to smack him across that bratty mouth. Mouth you wish you could have kissed. 

You give him a look, but he just cocks his brow at you. “Yeah, Jungkook came up with this idea–”

“Did I?”

You glare at him, “Anyway–sorry, I know we wanted to go there together.”

“It's fine,” Gabriel laughs, “We're still gonna get it. You guys are still going with us, right?”

“Yeah, sure!” you force yourself to smile, joining Gabriel as you feel Jungkook's burning gaze on your back. 

That's until you hear Nara's voice behind you, making a casual conversation between them and diverting his attention elsewhere. 

Once the sun is slowly setting down, you part ways and go back to the beach house in silence. No difference happens once you're inside, just the two of you. 

The past two hours spent with people you've met here felt like a torture. That's what you at least thought until you and Jungkook continued to pass by each other as you two are getting ready. Comically enough, not to go somewhere together but with different people.

He kept his word and accepted Nara's offer to go out tonight. Whether he's doing this to piss you off or because he wants to is unknown to you. Perhaps there was a slight hope that you two would just come to an agreement to cancel and go somewhere together. Even staying inside would be enough.

Once Nara asked Jungkook if their plan is still on and Jungkook so shamelessly confirmed, all the hope left as soon as it came. Gabriel has done the same with you and there was nothing other for you to do, then to agree.

It's a pure comedy. If there was a third person just watching the two of you, they would have the time of their life. Somehow you can imagine Taehyung here, sitting on the couch as he judges you two but stays entertained throughout the entire time.

After taking a shower, you end up doing your make-up in the living room with the smallest mirror you've brought on this vacation. Your previous plan of doing it in the bathroom where there is a massive mirror has failed as soon as Jungkook uttered his need to use the shower as well. 

You're not sure if he's done it on purpose, but he sure as hell took his time there. You're putting on the lipstick when he finally decides to get out of there.

Both of you stop.

He's wearing an all white – button-up with shorts that reach just above his knees. Shorts you didn't even know he owns. He looks elegant, yet casual just for the hot weather even though there's a slight darkness outside. His slicked back hair definitely helps.

Jungkook's eyes fall down on your figure. You're wearing a simple short black dress but the gold necklace and red lipstick adds a pinch of sexiness to it. None of you are overdressed or could win the outfit of the year, yet you can't keep eyes off each other. 

You're the first one to break it, standing up and tidying up your make-up stuff that's all over the table, but not before raising a provocative brow at him. He scoffs as he walks past you without any word, his cologne the only thing left and lingering. Out of his sight, you close your eyes and breathe out the gathered breath in your lungs. 

The two of you leave at the same time, in different directions to different people.

The restaurant where Gabriel has taken you is nice and they have a variety of food on their menu. You have a nice view of the beach and sea which adds points in your imaginary review of this place. You've got to be honest – Gabriel definitely went out his way to invite you here.

He doesn't mention his friend – Nara – not even once and while you're not sure if you want to hear the reminder of her hanging out with Jungkook at the moment, you hope you won't bump into each other. You feel bad. 

You listen and talk to him, but your mind is all over the place. You should've known you won't be able to enjoy tonight if there's someone you've fought with. And with Jungkook out of all people. 

At least the food is nice.

After two hours of good dinner and dessert, and a few glasses of wine, Gabriel decides to walk you back to the beach house. You're not stupid to decline it, especially at night. Before that you decide to take a quick walk down the beach.

“So, what are you saying? Was the dinner that bad?”

You give him a look, chuckling. “Did it meet your expectations of getting to know me?”

Now he's the one who laughs. “Yeah,” he nods. “Kinda makes it hard for me to go back to Italy.”

You raise your brow, smirking. “So you're saying you're not going where I go?”

He laughs at your joke, “I'm thinking of it.”

“Yeah, sure.” you laugh, “One dinner is all it took?”

“You're special.”

And you're more likely looking for a hook-up, you think. You both know there's no future to this. 

“I am special?” you snicker, “Is that what you say to all the girls?”

“Is it working?” he teases.

“Nah, it takes more effort when it comes to me.” 

He stops in his tracks which causes you to do the same. He stares, eyes dropping down your lips and red lights flare in your mind. Knowing what it most likely means, you quickly turn away. 

“Come on, I'm so full I could fall asleep.”

Cringing at yourself, Gabriel follows and doesn't seem to be shaken up from it. He continues to talk and the mood is pretty much loosen up, which has been from the beginning. You had a good time and it went better than you expected it to. 

Gabriel doesn't try to kiss you and you bid goodbye with a casual hug, both of you understanding that nothing will come out of this. 

The lights are on as you open the unlocked door, meaning that Jungkook is already back. It seems like he just came as he came out of the bathroom, surprised to see you there. 

“How was your date?” he asks, looking away from you in a second.

“It wasn't a date.” you clarify which makes him snicker. “What? It wasn't.”

“An Italian guy wants to make plans with you, alone. You might be right, it's not about a date at all.”

You give him an offensive look, “Are you insinuating that all I'm good for is a hook-up?”

“No, don't twist up my words.” He immediately stops your mind to go somewhere his mind doesn't even get close to. “I'm insinuating that a guy from freaking Italy suddenly shows his interest in you, when you live across the world.”

You frown, watching him reach for a glass of whiskey you haven't noticed before. He's not drunk but what he is, is confidently smirking in your face as if he knows everything. Well, he's not too far off. Gabriel wants to have fun and while he seems to be a decent human being, he's not about to move to a country to be with you. You wouldn't expect him to anyway.

“But you're right,” He purses his lips, the rim of the glass almost touching it as he lets out the tiniest chuckle that's supposed to be hidden. “He's probably wanting to marry you.”

He's provocating you. The plans have not turned out the way you both wanted to – but it is what it is. Your curiosity almost kills you and your impatient-self wants to ask him about this date, or whatever it was. This is a game, you realize. 

And you won't let him have that satisfaction of you asking. 

“He wanted to kiss me tonight.” you inform him.

You watch him take a sip, pursing his lips right after as you slowly watch him swallow down the hard liquor. “I'm sure he wanted to do much more.”

Is that a jealousy you hear? 

No one has quite peaked your interest regarding this matter. Judging by Jungkook's confidence, he knows that. 

“Next time I will let him kiss me. Maybe then he will want to marry me eventually.” You give him a false smile, stopping right beside him as he wants you with a clenched jaw. 

Not giving him a chance to respond, you walk away with confident steps into the bedroom. The door closes and your back meets the wood. You can feel your heart in your neck, all the facade of confidence and peace leaves and you softly bang your head against it. 

What you said was completely stupid. You don't want to kiss Gabriel. In fact, the thought of it is nowhere near as exciting as one would expect it to be. Both of you know that the second part was only said to piss him off and prove a point. 

The questions are…

Will you let him kiss you next time?

Did or will Jungkook kiss someone else in here?

The ongoing battle that you're in the middle of has not ended. 

Both sleeping at the very both ends, as far away from each other as possible, has been a good way to start the day. It's not like you expected to cuddle during the night. 

That's not what friends do, your mind wants to say. But you've crossed that line too many times. You're not the typical friends either, that ship has sailed a long time ago. 

You shouldn't have pushed him away. It's too late to take it back. For a moment you think of coming to Jungkook, apologize and somehow talk yourself out of this impossible battle you're in. You're willing to take all the blame for it. 

However, that's all gone as soon as you hear Jungkook calling with who you assume is Nara, his tone sweet and sounding exciting as they make plans for today. You stand there, making yourself a coffee as you try not to listen to their ridiculous conversation. How can you not? 

Jungkook sits right behind you, even if you didn't want to listen – it's impossible for you not to. He knows that. He knows you're listening. You're the one who has come in the middle of their conversation.

The call ends after a minute, your coffee ready but your mind isn't when you turn around and face the devil. You've seen him from the corner of your eyes when you entered the kitchen area, but nothing prepares you for the shirtless Jungkook. His hair isn't messy, he seems to be well put and from the looks of it, he came out of the shower not that long ago. 

He cocks his brow at you, questioning your stare making your features harden. “Having a date today?”

You painfully watch the way the corner of his mouth slowly lifts up as he chuckles. “Careful, you start to sound jealous.”

“Me? Don't be ridiculous,” you scoff, “Where is she from again? Doesn't she live across the world?”

Jungkook features lighten up with pure amusement as you use his words against him. “At least I can admit this is a date.”

“I simply hung out with a guy. We never stated it's a date.” you point out, knowing it sounds silly but Gabriel just wanted to get to know you. You never officially called it a date.

Jungkook stands up, grabbing his empty plate as he gives you another one of his snickers. “Be in denial all you want.”

“You know what?” He raises his brow in question, too close to you as he reaches to put the plate into the sink. “I'm not gonna spend this morning arguing with you. If I wanted it to be a date, I would make it perfectly clear to him.”

He smiles, but there's nothing sweet about it. “A date or a chance for a hook-up. I don't see the difference.”

He does. Jungkook has always been the dating type rather than the hook-up one. Your two friends have taken that label since forever. But obviously, he's not talking about himself. 

Suddenly, the air becomes thick and you stare right into his dark eyes. He's hovering over you, his scent luring you in as his eyes dance across your face. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

He pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe again as you quickly recover. “Yeah? And what would that be?”

Jungkook grabs his phone and looks at you across his shoulder. “You should meet new people.”

Your mouth opens and you stare for a moment before you scoff, “If I wanted to date, I would already have like hundreds of boyfriends. The same goes if I was looking for a hook-up.”

“Good for you.” he calls out bitterly, leaving you in the kitchen with a fuming gaze and burning heart. 

But you realize one thing. How selfish you've just sounded. Jungkook has told you the same thing. 

If any of you wanted that, you could've easily done so. Yet your reason for saying it to him and what ultimately started this argument, is completely different.

Jungkook is a dick. 

He has left for his date or whatever the fuck it is, and has left you alone in the house even without asking whether you have plans or not. You know your relationship right now is not at its best stage, but little consideration could not hurt. Especially since he's always been caring and considerate no matter how much your relationship has taken a different turn. 

It's one of the reasons why you desperately wanted to move on. Throw your past away and come back to the friendship you've known since the beginning. It leaves you agreeing that your original intention has come from a good place.

Luckily, Gabriel seems to show interest in you, still, after the little rejection you've given him after his attempt to kiss you. He comes to you a little after you come to the beach to just lay there. He's been there with his friends since this morning – at their usual spot. Nara is nowhere in sight and much to your distaste, you know who's she with. 

So once Gabriel invites you to hang out with them, you agree and would rather spend your alone time in a company of many people, than to dwell all alone about your decisions in life. He keeps you entertained and busy, away from your haunting thoughts. Until…

“Nara is with your friend. You know where they went?” 

You sit at a bar, drinking lemonade in this burning weather and you're thankful for the sunglasses you're wearing, so he's not about to see the tiniest roll of your eyes. “No idea. He forgot to mention.”

In the morning which is the last time you've seen him. He just left you to be with another woman, in a foreign country. You know you can call him anytime. Even now – no matter what your relationship looks like, he would be here in a second if you called and needed him. But still – you're mad he just left without saying anything. Deep down you know that's not the only thing that irritates you. 

“Nara fancies him a lot.”

So? You want to say. What are you supposed to do with this information?

“Really?” You're trying to sound surprised. But even Gabriel– who had so little time to get to know you – catches onto the tone and laughs. “It's pretty obvious.” You try to save it by simply stating. 

“She did ask him to go out again today. From what I know, she was never the one who asked someone out.”

“Where does she live again?” you ask, taking a sip off a lemonade trying to quench the fire inside you. 

“Spain.”

“It's not like there's any future to it.”

Gabriel stays silent and just stares, while you continuously take innocent sips. “Actually, Nara has applied for some modeling jobs in Korea.”

He's definitely not talking about North Korea, unfortunately that's unrealistic.

“Oh,”

Well, fuck. This just gave a completely different turn of event.

Considering your luck, she probably applied to your modeling agency as well. Many foreigners do. You just hope no one will mention it. Not to be a bitch, but you can imagine someone asking you to help her to get in. That's beyond your competency. But you could always mention her to Junho.

Oh my god. Jungkook has worked there too. He probably has saved your boss' number. While you think Jungkook wouldn't cross that invisible line you've set, he's always trying to help and save the day.

“Listen, how about I take you out for dinner tonight?”

That's… shocking.

After the last time you ended things, you thought he gave up. But you should've known better. It seems guys like him barely give up.

“What's else for us to do?” he chuckles, not really waiting for an answer but it still comes.

“What do you mean?”

He looks at you, reaching for his drink as his shoulders relax. “Our friends are meeting with each other almost every day.”

The taste of your non-alcoholic drinks becomes bitter on the tip of your tongue, just as much as your mood does. “As far as I know, you've got other friends here.”

“But none of them are you.”

Smooth. The little smirk you give him tells him everything. He's aware of his smooth delivery of compliments. You've got to give it to him – he knows his way around girls. 

It's not like you have anything else to do. Jungkook seems to be busy and does not care what you do here anymore. And Gabriel's company is nice. If it's true what he said about Nara coming to Korea, there's a bigger chance of them making future plans together. And as much as this thought leaves the most bitter taste on your tongue, you'll leave that move for Jungkook to make. 

After all, that's what you wanted for him and who are you to stand in his way. 

Purposely not verbally reacting to Gabriel's flirting, you shrug and lean in your seat. “Dinner sounds perfect.”

Legs resting on top of the coffee table, Gossip Girl plays in the background as you mindlessly pop grapes in your mouth. Maybe you're silently imagining it's Jungkook whom you're crushing between your teeth. 

After spending almost the full day with Gabriel and then the rest of his friends, you've come to the beach house finding it completely empty. It looks exactly where it's left off and you're embarrassed to admit that you've checked Jungkook's things to see if they've moved. And perhaps he was here. They haven't, which only meant one thing – Jungkook hasn't come here yet.

Sooner than later, the door opens and there he is. 

He does not seem surprised to see you there – almost as if he knew you wouldn't be anywhere else. You give him that much satisfaction of looking at him once he arrives, acknowledging his late arrival. You hate what you do but it has its own purpose. And that is the single glare you give him. 

You feel like a mother, silently scolding her child for coming home late. 

He goes for a shower right away and you battle with thoughts of him, erasing the traces of possible sex on his skin. He comes back after a few minutes, wearing just his boxers with wet hair. You want to scold him for walking around like that, but that would be slightly selfish for numerous reasons. Is he torturing you on purpose?

He joins you on the couch, not questioning your choice of TV show as he knows you've previously seen it. As he sits down, you can't hold it back and just come straight to the point. 

“Will you help her?”

Your gaze is focused on the TV screen, but you feel his own burning the side of your face. “Huh?”

“Nara.”

He just stares which causes you to look at him and roll your eyes at him. “She applied for modeling agencies in Korea.”

“Korea is huge,” he says after a moment. “And how do you even know that?”

“Gabriel told me.” You try to not sound too proud.

“When?” he asks confusingly. “She told me just today.”

He's questioning if you've known this information sooner but never told him. 

This time you inform him with a smug face. “He told me today as well.”

The revelation that you haven't spent your day here alone is out. He is unreadable. He just watches you, almost as if he wants to make sure you're not making this up. Too bad for him. You're not making anything up and this time you're not too shy to show how proud you are for it. 

“What? You thought I was here all alone while you went on a date?” 

It's a purposeful jab, one that leads to nothing but disaster but you don't care. You're mad and annoyed. And now he knows why. Yet he doesn't make any effort to make an excuse for himself. 

“You brought him here?” 

First of all – you're not sure what would be so bad about it, even if you brought him here. But then it clicks. Jungkook has his own assumptions and bringing a guy here, while you're all alone could mean different things. Your skin is moisturized and you smell like your shower gel, which means you've left the shower not that long ago.

Perhaps it could be considered as disrespectful if you indeed brought him into a house, Jungkook rented and is a space for you two. You could understand that.

If the roles were reversed and you found out he brought Nara here – well… the thought of it doesn't sit well with you. But what does, when it comes to her?

“No, he asked me out after you so kindly left me here to go on your stupid date.” you huff out, standing up and forgetting about your TV show. The controller is tossed on the couch as you leave without looking at him. 

Your steps lead to the bathroom where there's a slight trace of foggy mirror left after Jungkook's shower. Mentally groaning at the scent of him dominating in the room, you reach toward the sink faucet in a desperate need to freshen up your burning face.

You don't get to turn the water on as Jungkook is in your tracks, a burning gaze aimed at you. “You seemed to have solved it pretty quickly.”

Realizing he meant your accusation of leaving you to go on a date, you scoff. 

“I wasn't about to sit here and sulk, waiting like a dog for you. If that's what you were planning for me to do.”

“I wasn't planning that,” he states, even though he wants to be just as mad for some reason. “I wasn't planning on being out until now.”

“Well, you were!” you exclaim. 

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? Is that all you've got to say?”

He leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. “What am I supposed to say?”

“You know what? Nothing. Say nothing.” you fume, forgetting your dumb purpose in the bathroom anyway as you rush to get past him. But as soon as you get close, his hand around your wrist stops you. 

The touch is electrifying, sadly not in an awful way and you hate how your body reacts to him naturally. “Did you at least have fun?” you scoff.

“Would you be mad if I said I did?”

You almost cry, like a child but the anger inside you is bigger than anything else and you shake his hold on you. “And did you have fun?”

“Lots of it.” you spit the words at him.

You both stare into each other's eyes, the anger screaming out of them and yet the question you want to ask is unspoken.

“Good.”

“Goodnight Jungkook.” you murmur, walking away and quickening up the pace before you can do something you really want to, but would regret later. 

One would think that after yesterday's exchange of pitiful words, you two would have solved it or at least tried to voice the problem here. It seems there is not enough pity and when the two of you want to, you could be the biggest pity bitches.

“Milk?”

Side-eyed look toward Jungkook, having two bowls of cereal ready and awaiting your answer. “I can make myself breakfast.”

“Milk?” he asks through his teeth, causing you to roll your eyes behind his back as you sit down.

“Yes.”

Whether this is his way of saying sorry for yesterday or not  is unknown and you're not about to investigate it. You mutter a silent thank you once the bowl is set in front of you and you two dig into your breakfast without any other sort of conversation. 

The rest of the morning goes like this. One word communication which seems almost like a challenge. Phones are your best friend but both of you are stubborn to talk. You swim in the pool for the first time since you're here, enjoying the sun warming your skin as Jungkook goes for his morning jog and comes back an hour later.

You're playing quiet house, so it seems. 

As the day goes, it's more than clear that both of you have plans tonight. Separate plans. 

Jungkook's phone goes off and he goes inside to take the call, after joining you in the pool. Trying to keep your nerves to yourself, you've had to endure his presence (lack of clothed presence). You went to rest on a beach chair while he swam. PAIN.

It's close to dinner time and you both get ready. Unlike Jungkook, you spend more time in the bathroom to do your hair and make-up, which he so “kindly” reminds you every time he wants to take a shower or goes to grab something there. 

The air is thick and it has nothing to do with the scent of hairspray and your fragrance. 

None of you ask what's your plan for tonight. But both of you can tell. No details though.

“You done here?”

You stop in the middle of putting your lipstick on as you give him a look, “Does it look like it?”

Ignoring the attitude in your tone, Jungkook comes up to the mirror and by doing that, he moves you to the side. He almost causes the lipstick to meet your cheek and you can tell, you almost see a smirk curling his lips. 

“Don't look at me like that. You've been here for a long time.” he says without sparing you a glance.

While you watch from the side with an open mouth and disbelief written on your face, he easily grabs his hair gel and starts doing his own hair. You fume, snatching your make-up bag and stomping away to finish what you haven't had the chance to – thanks to Jungkook. 

By the time you're done, Jungkook has left without saying another word. You haven't even heard him leaving and you feel pathetic as you search him around the house, all while trying to look for something. Turns out there's no one here and he has left. First and again. 

Luckily, Gabriel texts you not that long after and proposes a short walk. He doesn't want to reveal the restaurant location but he had to make a reservation, which already sounds fancy as it is. You're hungry and considering you're not in your best state, still fuming, you decide not to complain. First of all, it's not polite at all.

Gabriel is trying and just because you're in a mood to be a bitch, doesn't mean he's the one who deserves it. At least there's some sort of self-reflection happening. 

And two, maybe it's a good idea to walk around a bit to come to different thoughts. Plus, you will eat more by the time you arrive at the restaurant. 

He has cleaned up nicely, catching female eyes as you walk around for a few minutes. The walk has been short, just enough to make a casual conversation until you arrive.

The restaurant is located on a pier, waiters all wearing fancy white shirts and slacks – a difference from all the shirts with Hawaiian motifs and skin showing. 

As you're led to your table, you notice there's not a single table free and tonight it's fully packed.

“What is this place?” you ask as soon as the waiter hands you menus and leaves after. 

“It's the most famous restaurant on this island.”

Your mouth opens and then it closes again. “Are you insane?”

He laughs, staring at you fondly as if you haven't been too bold with your words. “This is what I like about you.”

“What,”

“Your honesty,” he hums, “It's refreshing. You don't try to woo me.”

“Why would I woo you?” you ask, genuinely curious but again, it comes out a little bluntly which causes him to laugh again. 

“Ouch,” he jokes, holding his chest as you stare at him across the table. “You're in this world to punish men for their overly huge egos.”

You purse your lips, “I'm not in this world for men, first of all.”

“Technically, you are thanks to one.”

Your nose scrunches up which causes him to laugh again. “That's besides the point.”

“So is there anyone who's been trying to woo you instead?”

“Besides you, no. Not at the moment.”

He cracks another laughter, “Touché. I deserved that.”

Giggling, you shake your head at your conversation.

“So tell me–” His words drift away because in the midst of your laughter, you spot someone entering your line of vision.

The world could not be any more cruel at the moment. There they are. 

Jungkook and Nara enter the pier as they're seated by the waiter, just like you were minutes ago. Jungkook, the gentleman he is, pulls out the chair for her as she giggles with a bright smile. Clearly wooed herself by the sweet gesture. 

“You've got to be kidding me.” you mutter so silently, that you're sure Gabriel can't make the words out but it's enough to silence him as he follows your gaze. 

He turns around and lets out a surprised, but light sound. 

“Oh, I guess me and your friend think alike.”

You try hard not to make a sour expression as you clear your throat. “Let's not interrupt them. What were you saying?”

“Is there someone waiting for you? Back in Seoul?”

“I told you, I'm single.” you chuckle.

“I know, but that doesn't mean there's not someone who's ready to fight for you.”

Your fingers stop clicking and you gulp. 

“So you're telling me there's no one in your life? Not even recently?”

It's like he can see there's something on your mind. You decide to come up with half of the truth. It's not like you'll see him again.

“There–It wasn't a relationship, more like a relationship of convenience–”

“So, a hook-up partner, right?”

Lips in a straight line, you hum in confirmation. “Yeah, whatever. We ended it, so it felt like a good decision to come here and just relax. Come to different thoughts.”

Cominically enough, you came here with a person you're currently talking about. The one who's sitting just a few tables from you two.

God, you sound so stupid. Of course, you're not telling Gabriel the whole truth. The purpose of coming here with Jungkook was to enjoy it, strengthen your friendship – the previous one you've had. You had an agreement. 

Somehow, you end up arguing thanks to you and it gets all twisted.

“Well, I know you were supposed to come here with your friends. So I understand why you would do that.”

“It's not just because of that. We were planning this for months. It was supposed to be a friends' vacation.”

He hums in understanding and doesn't get the opportunity to speak, as the waiter comes back and asks for your order. After you've ordered your meal, Gabriel leans back and studies you for a short moment. Just before you're about to ask about his lingering gaze and its purpose behind it, he speaks. 

“You're not really looking for a relationship, are you?”

Your brows shoot up at the unexpected question. For a while, you're not sure how to answer and your face says it all. In the end, you shrug and voice your confusion. “What's with the sudden question?”

“I apologize,” he smiles, “I had to voice my curiosity and I wonder if I was right.”

You lean back, fingers clicking against the table. “I'm not against it. If it comes, I welcome it.”

“Hm,” he hums. “So no hard break-up?”

“Why do you think so?”

“I don't know, there's just something about you that I can't seem to crack.”

“Sometimes some things aren't meant to be cracked.” you tell him, making him smile at the possible truth. 

“Sometimes,” he agrees. “I'm sorry if I seem to be nosy.”

“No, it's okay. Trust me, I win when it comes to curiosity.” you admit with a silent laugh. 

“I travel a lot, so I don't really have enough time to properly date. No woman wants a man who's ten months out of the country out of the year.”

“What do you do again?”

“Content creator.”

“Oh, so you're an influencer?” 

He laughs, “Not really. I do write for a traveling blog.”

“Maybe you'll find someone you can date and travel with.”

“Unfortunately, you don't seem that kind of person.”

You laugh, “I do enjoy Seoul. It's home by now.”

It doesn't take a genius to realize that the only contact he gets through women is mostly by hooking-up. Though, by the look of it it seems that maybe he's longing for something more stable and serious. 

“You know, this time I'm here for a good vacation. No work. No writing.”

“That's great. I'm assuming all that traveling is tiring.”

“It is. I enjoy it and I love my job. But I came here to maybe come to new thoughts.” he explains. 

The waiter brings you your food shortly after. There's no awkward silence during eating, you keep a slightly lighter conversation as Gabriel remains nothing but a gentleman. You would lie if you said you're purposely focusing your gaze on the plate, rather than on Gabriel fearing your eyes would wander somewhere they should not. 

You don't care. Maybe they noticed you and clearly decided not to interrupt you as well. Or maybe there's still that awkward awaiting of them noticing. Sipping on a drink, in a hope it will bring you to different thoughts and help you relax a little bit more. 

The reason for your slight discomfort doesn't need to be named. 

“You assumed, I've been through a break-up. Why?” you ask, curious as he seems taken back.

“I asked more than assumed,” he corrects. You don't seem to be buying that statement but remain silent. “At first I thought you're not interested in me, particularly. But I get a feeling you're just not interested in general.”

“Why's that?”

Yes. He might be right. You're not necessarily trying to search for someone. But you don't get a feeling as if you were against it.

“Let me be bold here.”

“Please.” you encourage him.

“There are men who can't keep their eyes off you. And I simply noticed by spending time with you.”

You give him a doubtful look which he quickly disregards by shaking his head.

“Men are men.” you simply tell him.

He makes a disapproving sound. “There are hundreds of women at the beach, but the majority of them stare at you.”

“Okay, now you're just giving me a compliment.”

“I am not,” he laughs gently, “I could but I guess it is a compliment when there are men thirsting over you.”

“Like I said. Men are men. They're thirsting over anything that wears a bikini.”

“That–can be true. But my point still stands.”

You clear your throat, “Okay. Maybe I'm not completely in a place where I'm searching for a relationship. I never hid that.”

“Of course. But that's why I just tried to prove my point why I think you're not interested.”

You stay silent for a second. He's technically a stranger but it seems as if you were having this conversation with a friend. You don't feel uncomfortable and there's no need for you to get defensive over this topic. He's wondering and that's fine. 

“It wasn't a relationship. Just a hooking-up type of one and we ended it. So I just need to get things back how they were.”

And comically enough, the person who's a part of this is sitting just right over there. Even though Gabriel seems to notice quite a few things, Jungkook and your history with him seems to be oblivious to him.

Why do you care?

You've been trying to keep it a secret as long as possible until it got out. So what if he knows the truth? It's not like you'll see him again – most likely. You don't need anyone to judge you two or look at you differently. You definitely don't need any more insights into this matter than your friends have delivered. 

Your own mind is a mess.

And on top of it, Jungkook and you are on edge. 

The mention of him causes you to look up. And fuck. What a mistake you make. 

You meet Jungkook's gaze, the intense color in them burning even from this distance as he's already looking at you. Your breath hitches in the most subtle way. While you stare shocked that he has noticed you, his brows are pinched together.

He's not exactly pleased to find you here. 

Nara sits on the opposite side of the table, so all you can see is her back but she seems to be saying something to him. Jungkook reaches for the glass of wine and takes a few sips, eyes not leaving yours. 

Then he's the first one to look away. That tiny detail affects you more than you're able to admit and you almost fume when the frown disappears from his face. You watch it all. His features relax as he talks to her back, obviously listening to her even though his eyes were elsewhere. Even that is kind of annoying. 

Nara gently throws her head back and giggles almost so loudly, that you hear some of it. With the most burning eyes you watch Jungkook smile and let out the prettiest gentle laugh.

“Are you okay?”

You quickly avert your gaze to Gabriel. “Yeah.”

“Thought I already bore you.”

You push out a laugh, wishing Jungkook is looking. But once your eyes stupidly wander back to him – he actually is looking. 

You make sure Jungkook sees the tiny provoking movement upwards of your lips. And he does. His eyes narrow, addressing the glare to you and only you.

“No, I'm starting to have a lot of fun.”

Gabriel's and yours glasses clink together comically in a synchronized way. But the only ones who seem to be on the same wavelength and having an idea – are you and Jungkook.

a/n: F-I–N-A-L-L-Y! believe it or not, nobody wanted to get this chapter out more than me! if you've been around and reading some of the asks, you probably know life got crazy and busy! as always, I'm super grateful to everyone who's been patient for me and cheering on me whether it was online or offline ♡ to every person who's been harassing me on the internet over an update, this one's not for you. I see you and I'm not interested. I've said this in one of my asks – you never know what someone goes through offline and what could possibly be the reason of their lack of activity.

on another note, this chapter should've had more scenes and so much more was supposed to happen, but from obvious reasons I've decided to post it in the end because I still think it's a good chapter. anyway, I hope you'll like it just as much as I liked it when I was writing it (no matter how much time it took me 🥴) all the love goes to you guys!

If you’ve enjoyed this chapter, please consider buying me a coffee☕️: https://ko-fi.com/personasintro ♡ Teaser for chapter 60 will be posted there!

goal: 9k notes 🌙

© 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝) | 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

[jaeyunbaeun]

world of sinners vii | sim jaeyun

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: your parents are the head of one of the nation’s most lucrative syndicates and your older brother is heir to the throne which leaves you free to leave this world of evil behind. you’ve been waiting for this day for twenty years of your life, you can practically taste the freedom. what will you do, however, when your parents arrange a marriage for you to bind together their empire with the lee’s to stop a full on gang war?

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: sim jaeyun x f!reader ft brother sungchan & heesung

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 10.8k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: dark themes, mentions of violence, vulgar language, mentions of death, forced marriage, possessiveness, mentions of pregnancy, slight talk about childhood trauma, lots and lots of kissing.

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The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as you begin to wake. The first thing you notice is Jake's arms securely wrapped around you, his body warm and comforting against yours. You shift slightly, your movement causing him to stir as well. His hold tightens, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“Good morning,” he mumbles, his voice deep and raspy with sleep.

You smile, turning in his arms to face him. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, but there’s a soft, loving look in them as he gazes at you. “Good morning,” you reply, reaching up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his forehead.

Jake’s hand starts to trace slow, lazy circles on your back, his touch gentle and soothing. “It feels like a dream,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with awe. “Waking up like this… with you in my arms.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his. There’s so much love in his gaze, so much depth and emotion that it nearly takes your breath away. “We’ve come so far, haven’t we?” you whisper, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his face.

Jake nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. “We really have,” he agrees. “I can’t believe it. Everything we’ve been through… and now, here we are. Together.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence, letting the weight of those words sink in. You think back to everything you’ve faced together—the threats, the fears, the moments of doubt. But also the laughter, the joy, the way you’ve grown closer with every obstacle. It’s been a journey, and you know it’s far from over, but right now, in this quiet morning light, you feel like you’ve reached a milestone. A place of security and love that you never imagined could be possible.

Jake’s fingers brush along your jaw, tilting your face up toward his. “I wouldn’t trade any of it,” he says softly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Every moment, every struggle, it’s all been worth it to get to where we are now.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but they’re tears of happiness, of overwhelming love. “I wouldn’t either,” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m so grateful for you, Jake. For everything you do, for how much you love me. I never imagined I could feel this way.”

He tightens his hold on you, his arms wrapping around you like a protective shield. “You’re everything to me,” Jake whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “And I promise I’ll keep doing everything I can to make you happy.”

You lift your head to look at him, your heart swelling with love. “You already make me happy, Jake. Every single day. I don’t need anything else.”

He gazes at you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. “You deserve the world,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life giving it to you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You lean down, pressing your forehead against his. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

Jake’s hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that escapes. “I love you too,” he replies, his voice equally soft. He pulls you down for a kiss, and you can feel the love and tenderness in every movement of his lips.

The kiss is slow and unhurried, filled with all the emotions you’ve both been feeling. His hand trails down your back, and you shiver at the sensation. As the kiss deepens, you feel a warmth spreading through your body, a familiar heat building between you.

Jake’s lips move to your jawline, trailing soft kisses down to your neck. He nips at your skin gently, and you let out a quiet gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Jake,” you murmur, your voice a mix of longing and affection.

He hums against your skin, his hands wandering lower. “Hmm?” he responds, his voice deep and filled with desire. “Just let me take care of you…”

You’re about to reply when the sound of your phone vibrating on the nightstand breaks through the haze of warmth and affection. Jake groans in frustration, his lips still pressed against your neck. “Ignore it,” he mumbles, his voice slightly muffled as he continues his kisses.

You let out a soft laugh, gently pushing against his chest. “Jake, we can’t just ignore it,” you say, though there’s a playful note in your voice. You reach over to grab your phone, but he catches your wrist, his eyes dark with desire as he tries to pull you back to him.

“Come on,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your lips again. “It’s probably nothing important.”

You manage to twist in his grasp and grab the phone, glancing at the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the caller ID. “It’s Yerin,” you say, holding up the phone.

Jake pauses, a small frown forming on his lips. “Yerin?” he echoes, his brow furrowing slightly. He finally releases his hold on you, letting out a sigh of resignation. “Why is she calling?”

You swallow the unease rising in your throat and answer the call, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hello?” you say, your voice edged with caution. “Yerin?”

“Good morning,” Yerin’s voice comes through, smooth and detached. There’s no warmth in her tone, just a cold, measured cadence. “I trust I’m not interrupting anything important.”

You glance at Jake, who is watching you with a mix of tension and curiosity. “No, not at all,” you reply, forcing yourself to remain steady. “I just wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Is everything alright?”

There’s a pause on the other end, the kind that makes you feel as though she’s assessing you, weighing every word. “Everything is fine,” Yerin says eventually, though her tone suggests otherwise. “I thought it appropriate to check in. How is the pregnancy progressing?”

Your heart skips a beat. You had hoped the pregnancy story you spun would be enough to keep Yerin at a distance, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. Quickly, you compose yourself, leaning into the narrative you’ve woven. “It’s… progressing,” you say, allowing a faint sigh to escape your lips. “The morning sickness has been rough—worse than I expected. I’ve barely been able to keep anything down.”

Yerin’s silence stretches, thick and oppressive, before she speaks again, her voice laced with a subtle edge. “I see. I’m sure Jake has been doing his part, taking care of you. He’s always had a way of getting too involved in matters.”

You bristle at her thinly veiled jab but keep your tone light. “He’s been wonderful, really. I’m lucky to have him.” You emphasize the last part, hoping to deflect some of her bitterness.

A cold hum is the only response you receive, the sound low and calculating. “Indeed. Well, I’ll be arriving shortly for brunch. I expect to be there within the hour.”

Your heart stops momentarily, shock rippling through you. “You’re coming over?” You try to keep your voice even, but the surprise seeps through.

“Yes,” Yerin replies, her tone indicating that it’s not up for debate. “I assume that won’t be a problem? I’d hate to disrupt your ‘rest,’ but it’s important that we have a conversation.”

You scramble to regain composure, forcing a polite tone. “Of course. I just… wasn’t expecting company. I’ll do my best to get ready.”

“You should rest,” Yerin counters, a hint of mock concern in her voice. “I won’t be long. We’ll talk, and then you can go back to taking care of yourself.”

“Right,” you say, feeling cornered. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Good,” she says, her tone clipped and final. “I’ll be there shortly.”

The line goes dead, and you slowly lower the phone, still trying to process the conversation. Jake’s eyes are fixed on you, concern deepening as he reads the confusion and unease on your face. He reaches out, his hand finding yours, and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“What did she say?” he asks gently, his voice low as if not to startle you.

You blink, coming back to the present moment. “She’s coming over,” you say, the words feeling strange on your tongue. “She wants to have brunch and… talk.”

“Talk?” Jake echoes, his brows knitting together. “About what?”

You shake your head, frustration and confusion bubbling up inside you. “I don’t know, she didn’t say. Just that she wouldn’t stay long.” You pause, biting your lip as a thought occurs to you. “Do you think she’s caught on? About the bugs we had Jungwon plant?”

Jake’s expression hardens, the playful warmth from earlier vanishing as he considers the possibility. “I don’t think so,” he says after a moment. “If she had, I doubt she’d just show up for a chat. But I’ll check in with Jungwon, just to be sure.”

You nod, feeling a little better at his reassurance, but the anxiety still simmers beneath the surface. Jake gives your hand another squeeze before releasing it, his voice softening as he says, “Come on, let’s get ready. We’ll figure this out.”

You manage a small smile and follow him as he leads you toward the bathroom. The tension in your shoulders starts to ease as you settle into the familiar routine of getting ready together. Jake’s presence is a comfort, his calm demeanor helping to ground you.

As you both stand side by side at the sink, Jake hands you your toothbrush with a small, playful grin. “Think she’ll be impressed by our synchronized brushing?”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “She’ll probably criticize our technique.”

“Let her,” Jake replies, his tone teasing. “We’ll dazzle her with our perfect coordination.”

You can’t help but smile as you start brushing your teeth together, the mundane act surprisingly comforting in the midst of the morning’s uncertainty. Jake catches your eye in the mirror, giving you a small wink that makes you laugh again.

After brushing your teeth, Jake moves to the shower, turning on the water and testing the temperature. He looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Care to join me?”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. “Are you trying to distract me, Mr. Sim?”

“Absolutely Mrs. Sim,” he says without missing a beat, reaching for your hand to pull you into the shower. “And I’ll do a good job of it, too.”

You can’t argue with that, and soon the warm water is cascading over both of you, washing away the last of your lingering tension. Jake is gentle, his touch soft and comforting as he washes your body. It’s moments like this that remind you just how much he cares, how much he wants to protect you from anything that might cause you stress.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he rinses your body.

“For what?” he asks, his voice low as he leans in to press a kiss to your temple.

“For always knowing what I need,” you reply, turning to look at him. “Even when I don’t know it myself.”

Jake smiles, a soft, loving expression that makes your heart swell. “I’m just doing what I can to take care of you,” he says, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re the most important thing in my life.”

The shower becomes a tender exchange of affection, each touch, each kiss filled with unspoken words of love and support. By the time you step out, your earlier anxieties have been replaced by a warm sense of security. You both take your time drying off, the simple act of helping each other with towels becoming another quiet expression of your bond.

Jake, ever the thoughtful partner, starts rummaging through his side of the closet as you begin your skincare routine. You catch him glancing over at you, a contemplative look on his face.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you ask with a smile as you apply moisturizer.

Jake grins, holding up one of his oversized hoodies. “I was thinking… Can I dress you today?”

You burst out laughing, the idea of Jake playing stylist both endearing and amusing. “You want to dress me?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he says, his tone serious but playful. “You’re ‘pregnant’, right? Comfort over anything else.”

You shake your head, still laughing but touched by his suggestion. “Yerin’s going to have something to say about me wearing your clothes instead of dressing up.”

“She’ll have something to say no matter what,” Jake counters, stepping closer and holding the hoodie out to you. “Besides, I think you look beautiful in my clothes.”

You pretend to think about it, but the truth is, you’re already sold on the idea. There’s something incredibly intimate about wearing his clothes, especially when you know it’s for his comfort as much as yours. “Alright,” you say, taking the hoodie from him. “But if she makes a snide comment, I’m blaming you.”

Jake chuckles, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Deal.”

You slip on the hoodie, the soft fabric enveloping you in warmth, and you can’t help but smile at how it practically swallows you whole. It’s cozy, and despite the situation, it makes you feel safe. Jake watches you with a satisfied grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

As you finish getting dressed, the two of you hear a soft knock on the door, signaling that Yerin has arrived. Your heart skips a beat, but Jake is quick to grab your hand, squeezing it gently. “Ready?” he asks, his voice steady.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply, taking a deep breath as you head downstairs with Jake by your side.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you see one of the housekeepers opening the front door for Yerin. She steps inside with the air of someone who expects the world to bend to her will. Her posture is as straight and poised as ever, her eyes as sharp as knives as they sweep across the foyer, taking in every detail. The moment her gaze lands on you, her eyes narrow slightly, lingering on your oversized hoodie. But before she can comment, you notice something unusual: a decent sized chest in her hand, intricately carved and clearly old. Your heart skips a beat, but you force yourself to remain composed, deciding not to ask about it just yet.

Jake steps forward, his tone polite but wary. “Mother,” he greets, gently guiding you to stand beside him. “Thank you for coming.”

Yerin’s smile is a little too perfect, her demeanor uncharacteristically warm. “Jake,” she responds, her voice honeyed. “It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.” She glances around the house with an approving nod, then turns her attention back to Jake. “You’ve got a lovely home here.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by her sudden amiability. “Thank you,” he replies cautiously. He exchanges a quick glance with you, as if trying to gauge your reaction to this new, unsettling version of his stepmother.

Yerin doesn’t miss a beat. “And you, my dear,” she says, turning to you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Pregnancy seems to agree with you. You’re positively glowing.”

You offer a polite smile in return, the unease bubbling beneath the surface. Yerin has never been one to dole out compliments, especially not to you. “Thank you,” you manage, feeling the need to tread carefully.

Yerin continues, making an effort at small talk, something she rarely does. “Jake, how’s the business going? I hear we’re expected to receive a five percent bump in the next quarter.”

Jake nods, clearly suspicious but unwilling to show it. “Yes, we’ve been doing well,” he replies. “The team’s been working hard.”

She nods approvingly, as if she’s genuinely interested, but there’s something about her tone that feels calculated. “That’s good to hear,” she says. “Your father is proud.”

Jake’s grip on your hand tightens slightly, a subtle sign that he’s not entirely buying her act. “Thank you, Mother,” he says, his voice carefully neutral.

Yerin then turns to you with that same unsettling smile. “I’d like to spend some time with you, dear. One-on-one, if you don’t mind,” she says, her tone light, almost too casual. “It’s important for us to get to know each other better.”

You feel Jake stiffen beside you, his protective instincts flaring. “I’d prefer to stay,” he interjects. “The pregnancy has been taking a toll, and I’d feel better if I were here.”

Yerin’s smile doesn’t waver, but there’s a hint of something sharper in her eyes now. “Jake, I gave birth to Heeseung,” she says, her voice calm but firm. “I’m more than capable of looking after her. Besides, it’s only right that she and I have some time to talk, don’t you think?”

Jake hesitates, clearly torn. You can sense his reluctance, his unwillingness to leave you alone with her. But he knows better than to push back too hard, especially when Yerin is being this... diplomatic. With a sigh, he relents. “Alright,” he agrees, though his tone betrays his dismay. He turns to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be in the study if you need anything,” he says softly, his eyes conveying a silent promise to return if things go awry.

You watch him go, feeling a knot of unease tighten in your stomach. Yerin’s sudden shift in demeanor is unsettling, and you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to her visit than she’s letting on. Once Jake is out of sight, you turn to Yerin, trying to mask your discomfort.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing toward the kitchen, forcing a smile.

Yerin follows you, her eyes still roaming the house as if she’s evaluating it, judging it. Once in the kitchen, you move to put on a pot of tea, trying to steady your hands as you do so. The silence between you is thick, almost suffocating, but before it can stretch too long, Yerin surprises you again by attempting to make conversation.

“How have you been feeling?” she asks, her tone carefully measured. “Pregnancy can be such a trying time, especially in the early months.”

You glance at her, wary but trying not to show it. “I’ve been managing,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral. “There are good days and bad days, but Jake’s been very supportive.”

Yerin nods, as if this is exactly what she expected to hear. “That’s good. You’re lucky to have him by your side. He’s always been such a strong, reliable boy,” she says, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s actually sincere. But there’s an edge to her voice that makes you doubt it.

As you wait for the water to boil, Yerin’s eyes land on a canvas propped against the far wall, one of your unfinished paintings. “I see you’re still working on your art,” she comments, her voice casual, almost offhand. “I heard Jaeyun is opening up an art sector for your works.”

You blink, taken aback by the fact that she even remembers your interest in the fine arts. Yerin has never shown the slightest interest in you let alone your artwork before. “Yes, I am and he is,” you say slowly, unsure of where this is going.

Yerin tilts her head slightly, as if considering something. “It must be challenging to find the time now, with the baby on the way and all. But it’s good that you’re still pursuing your passions.”

You nod, feeling more and more unsettled by the second. “It helps to keep me sane” you admit, wondering if there’s an ulterior motive behind her sudden interest.

The kettle whistles, cutting through the tension like a knife. You busy yourself with preparing the tea, grateful for the distraction. As you pour the steaming liquid into two delicate cups, you can’t help but wonder what game Yerin is playing. Her demeanor is too pleasant, too... nice. And Yerin is never nice without a reason.

Once the tea is ready, you bring the cups to the table, setting one in front of Yerin and one for yourself. She takes a sip, her eyes never leaving you, and you feel like a specimen under a microscope.

Finally, Yerin sets her cup down and reaches for the small chest she had been holding earlier. Without a word, she slides it across the table toward you, her expression unreadable.

You slowly put down your own cup, your heart pounding in your chest. “What is this for?” you ask, your voice carefully neutral.

Yerin’s smile is still in place, but there’s something almost predatory in her eyes now. “It’s a chest filled with things Jake’s mother left behind for him,” she explains, her tone soft, almost too soft. “It was meant to be given to him once he got married.”

The revelation takes you completely by surprise. You blink, trying to process the information. “Why are you giving this to me?” you ask, suspicion creeping into your voice.

Yerin sighs, as if the answer should be obvious. “We were instructed to give it to Jake once he was married, but his father thought it would be a hindrance, make him weak, so he decided to hide it away. I thought it would be a nice surprise for the two of you, especially now that you’re expecting. It’s only appropriate.”

You hesitate, your mind racing. This is the last thing you expected from Yerin, and you’re not sure how to react. The chest likely contains items that will mean the world to Jake, perhaps the last things his mother left behind before she was killed. The weight of the decision presses down on you—should you open it now, or wait for Jake? But curiosity wins out, and with trembling hands, you unlatch the chest and lift the lid.

Inside, you find letters upon letters, baby clothes and shoes that must have belonged to Jake, and pictures of Jake and his mother when he was younger. Your heart aches as you take in the contents, your eyes skimming a letter addressed to “the one my son chooses.” Though it doesn’t explicitly bear your name, the intent is clear. You’re absolutely shocked, unable to hide your emotions as you think about how much joy this will bring Jake.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

Yerin hums in response, taking another sip of her tea as she examines you, her eyes narrowing slightly. There’s something about her gaze that makes your skin prickle, as if she’s sizing you up, waiting for something. The air is thick with tension, and you can’t shake the feeling that Yerin’s pleasant demeanor is just a facade.

Then, with a delicate clink, she sets her teacup down and leans back in her chair, her smile fading. The air around her seems to chill, the warmth draining from her expression.

“Let’s drop the coy act, shall we?” she says, her voice smooth as silk, but laced with something cold and dangerous. The shift is so sudden, so jarring, that it takes you a moment to process. All at once, the real Yerin.

You can’t help but scoff lightly at her sudden change in tone, but you don’t back down. Instead, you sit up straighter in your chair, meeting her gaze head-on. "I’m sure you know why I’m here," she continues, her voice smooth and full of confidence.

You tilt your head slightly, genuinely puzzled. "Whatever do you mean?" you ask, keeping your tone even. You have a feeling that she’s here to ask for something, or perhaps she’s aware that you and Jake are on to her, but you’re not about to give away anything just yet.

Yerin’s lips curl into a smirk, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "I’m not stupid. I know you’re on to me," she says, her voice dripping with condescension.

Her words catch you off guard, but you force yourself not to react. Internally, your mind is racing. How much does she know? Should you admit it, or continue playing dumb? The weight of the decision presses on you, but after a moment, you decide that the truth might be the best leverage you have right now. She’s clearly here with an agenda, and perhaps you can use that to your advantage.

“…Yes. I am,” you admit, your voice firm, locking eyes with her to convey that you’re not afraid.

Yerin doesn’t miss a beat. “Good,” she says, her tone as smooth as silk. “Then I’ll get straight to the point. I want you to join me.”

You scoff again, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. “Join you?” you echo, incredulous. “Have you forgotten the hit you put on me?”

Yerin waves her hand dismissively, “That wasn’t me,” she says casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her response throws you off balance. You stare at her, confused. “What do you mean it wasn’t you?” you ask, suspicion and disbelief mingling in your voice. Of all the people who would benefit from your elimination, Yerin seemed like the most obvious culprit.

Yerin’s expression turns cold, her eyes narrowing. “The hit wasn’t meant for you,” she explains, her tone clipped. “It was meant for Jaeyun.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you process her words. “But why would—”

“Heeseung,” Yerin interrupts, her voice laced with disdain. “He was impulsive, reckless. He disregarded my direct orders to sit tight and decided to take matters into his own hands. The fool thought he could eliminate Jaeyun and make his move, despite knowing how dangerous that would be.”

You mull over her words, the pieces slowly falling into place. It does make sense—Heeseung has always been ambitious, desperate to prove himself, but his impatience has always been his downfall. You remember Jake telling you about how Heeseung was constantly trying to one-up him during the time the throne was up for grabs. But it’s one thing to suspect Heeseung of being reckless; it’s another to hear it confirmed by Yerin herself.

“And what about the second hit?” you ask, your voice hardening. “The one meant for me and my baby?”

Yerin smirks, her eyes gleaming with something dark. “Water under the bridge?” she suggests, her tone light, almost playful, as if the attempt on your life were some trivial matter.

You’re completely unamused by her response, your expression turning stony. Yerin sighs, as if disappointed that you didn’t find her little joke funny. “I underestimated you,” she admits, her tone begrudgingly respectful. “You’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.”

You don’t comment on her backhanded compliment, your mind racing with all the implications of what she’s revealed. Instead, you decide to hit her where it hurts. “Jaehee will kill you when he finds out what you’ve done,” you say coldly, knowing full well the truth of your words.

But Yerin doesn’t flinch. In fact, she looks like she was counting on this response. “You won’t say anything,” she counters smoothly, her voice dripping with certainty. “Because that would mean admitting that Sungchan slept with me. And we both know Jaehee would definitely kill him if he found out.”

Her words hang in the air, a challenge laid bare between the two of you. For a moment, she seems to think she’s won, that she’s backed you into a corner. But you’ve already anticipated this. You know the stakes, and you know how much Yerin is underestimating you right now.

“My brother made his bed,” you say, your tone icy, your expression unwavering. “He should lie in it.”

Your response visibly rocks Yerin. You can see the brief flicker of shock in her eyes, the way her composed facade cracks for just a moment. She thought Sungchan would be the one thing she could hold over your head, the one leverage she could use to control you. But now, she realizes she’s severely misjudged you.

It takes her only a second to recover, masking her shock with a cold smile. “Ruthless,” she remarks, her tone almost admiring. “That’s what I need. Not someone weak or impulsive like the men surrounding us.”

You shake your head, not buying into her attempt to flatter you. “What about Heeseung?” you ask pointedly. “Aren’t you doing all of this so he can take over?”

Yerin sighs, taking a deliberate sip of her tea before responding. “That was the original plan,” she admits, her voice tinged with disappointment. “But Heeseung has proven himself to be reckless and a liability. I need someone who’s calculated, trustworthy, and seen as an underdog—someone like me to work in the background alongside him.”

You nod, understanding where she’s coming from, but you’re not convinced. “And Jake?” you press, needing to know where her loyalties truly lie.

Yerin’s lips curl into a knowing smile. “I don’t need Jake,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “And neither do you. In this game, Jake may be the king, but the king is nothing without the queen. And I know you’re the one who’s been controlling Jake, guiding his moves. Why let all that power go to waste over a man?”

Her words cut deep and send a chill down your spine, Heeseung said the exact same to you the night of your wedding. You don’t let it show how much the words have rocked you, instead, you sit there, processing everything she’s said. Before you can respond, Yerin stands, her movements graceful and deliberate. She’s ready to leave, the conversation clearly over in her mind. But as she turns to go, she tosses her phone onto the table, her eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

“Oh, and the next time you decide to tap my phone, do make sure it’s untraceable,” she says, her voice laced with condescension.

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression neutral, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you react. Yerin smirks, clearly pleased with herself, and then she turns on her heel and strides out of the kitchen, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You watch her go. Yerin’s proposal hangs in the air, a disturbing truth to where her allegiance lies, with herself. She truly is just as ruthless as you thought her to be but more than that, you’re left with the knowledge that this battle is far from over. Yerin is playing a dangerous game, and if you’re going to survive, you’ll have to be just as ruthless as she is.

The door clicks shut behind her, and you’re left in the heavy silence of the kitchen, Yerin’s phone still lying on the table like a taunt. You glance at it, your mind already working through the possibilities. You knew Yerin was dangerous, but now you’re certain—this is a war, and you’ll have to play every card right if you want to come out on top.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulls you from your thoughts, and a moment later, Jake steps into the kitchen. His eyes immediately go to the phone on the table before they shift to you, concern etched on his face.

“What happened?”

You take a deep breath, still processing the encounter. “Yerin tried to recruit me,” you say, the words sounding surreal even as they leave your lips.

Jake’s eyes widen in shock. “Recruit you?” He can’t hide his disbelief. “Does she know we’re onto her?”

You nod slowly, your thoughts already two steps ahead. “Yes. She knows. She also knows about the tap we had Jungwon put on her phone.”

Jake’s expression shifts from shock to something more focused, more dangerous. “But why would she want to recruit you? Isn’t this all for Heeseung?”

Shaking your head, you reply, “I don’t think so. She said Heeseung is impulsive, I doubt she’d willingly hand everything to him now.”

Jake pauses, his mind clearly racing as he tries to piece together the puzzle. “You don’t think…” His voice trails off, his thoughts moving faster than he can articulate them.

“What are you thinking?” you prompt, watching as the realization begins to dawn on him.

“Yerin is always ten steps ahead,” Jake says slowly, his tone filled with a dawning horror. “She wouldn’t offer you this position unless she was planning on getting rid of Heeseung completely.”

Then it clicks, the horrifying truth settling over both of you like a shroud. “She’s going to kill him,” you say, your voice low. “And take all the power for herself. This was a distraction! She’s counting on us trying to figure out her motive so she can eliminate the last obstacles in her path!”

Jake’s face hardens with resolve. “We need to call Heeseung,” he says. “He’s probably next on her hit list.”

Without another word, Jake pulls out his phone and hurries out of the room to make the call. The urgency in his movements mirrors the urgency you feel in your chest. But as Jake’s footsteps fade, your gaze drifts back to the chest Yerin had brought earlier. The memories inside are precious, and you don’t want Jake’s attention to be divided. He deserves to have all the time in the world to reminisce about his mother’s keepsakes without the looming threat of Yerin overshadowing everything.

Carefully, you pick up the chest and carry it to your bedroom. Finding a safe spot in the closet, you tuck it away where it won’t be disturbed. For now, it’s best if Jake’s focus remains solely on the danger at hand. You’ll revisit it when the time is right—when Jake can afford to let his guard down.

Returning downstairs, you find Jake in the sitting room, pacing anxiously. The phone is still in his hand, and he’s tapping it nervously against his thigh. The silence between you is heavy, laden with the knowledge of what’s about to happen.

The doorbell rings, cutting through the tension like a knife. Jake moves to answer it, and a moment later, Heeseung strides into the room. He’s as confident as ever, a smug grin playing on his lips as he looks between you and Jake.

“What’s going on?” Heeseung asks, his voice dripping with amusement as he looks between you and Jake. His demeanor is as smug as ever, and you can tell he isn’t aware of the situation.

Heeseung smirks as he saunters into the room, making a show of looking around. “I see you’re still playing house,” he says, his tone condescending. He then turns his gaze to you, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “So, how did you enjoy your stay in jail? I hear the accommodations aren’t exactly five-star.”

You bite back a retort, forcing yourself to remain calm. Jake, however, seems less inclined to humor his brother’s arrogance.

“Heeseung, this isn’t a joke,” Jake says firmly, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. “We know what you and Yerin are up to. We know about Sungchan, the shipments, the hits. All of it.”

For a moment, Heeseung’s smug expression falters, but he quickly recovers, letting out a scoff. “And what exactly do you plan to do with that information? Turn me in? Or maybe you’d rather end things now and hand over the family business?”

Before Jake can respond, you step forward, your patience wearing thin. “Yerin is going to kill you,” you state bluntly, cutting through the tension with cold precision.

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and then bursts into laughter, a genuine, deep laugh that echoes through the room. “Kill me? You’re delusional. Why would my own mother kill me?”

Jake remains silent, his eyes narrowing as he watches his brother. When the laughter finally dies down, Jake speaks, his tone steady. “Yerin is doing this for herself, and for power. It was never going to be fully yours.”

Heeseung’s smile falters, just a little. “What are you saying?”

Jake takes a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “Yerin offered, ____ your position,” he nods toward you, “just a few minutes ago.”

The smile drops from Heeseung’s face entirely, replaced by something more calculating, more dangerous. “Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. The reality of the situation is sinking in, and for the first time, Heeseung looks truly shaken.

“What now?” he asks, the bravado gone from his voice, replaced by a genuine uncertainty.

Jake looks back, his hand finding its way to yours and entwines them, grounding both of you. “You can have it,” Jake says quietly. “If you want it, I’ll give it to you. You just have to promise me that nothing will happen to my family. Nothing can happen to her.”

Before you can say anything, Heeseung cuts in, disbelief coloring his words. “You’re serious? You’re willing to give up all this power and respect…for your wife?”

Jake fully turns to you, his expression softening as he smiles. Leaning in, he kisses you softly, a gentle brush of lips that conveys more love and certainty than words ever could. “I have everything I could ever need,” he says, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

The sincerity in his tone, the warmth in his eyes—everything about this moment touches you deeply. Heeseung sees it too, and for a moment, the cold, calculating demeanor fades, replaced by the brother Jake grew up with—the one who was kind, who had dreams beyond the family business.

Heeseung sighs, the fight leaving him. “Alright,” he says, his voice resigned but tinged with something softer. “I’ll turn on her. I’ll make sure nothing happens to your family.”

Jake nods, his relief evident as he pulls out his phone again. “I’ll make the calls,” he says, walking into the sitting room. He dials his father’s number first, asking him to come over immediately, his tone leaving no room for argument. Once he’s done, he calls Jay, instructing him to keep an eye on Yerin, to make sure she doesn’t try to pull anything before they can set the plan in motion.

As Jake moves to make the next set of arrangements, you glance at Heeseung. He’s leaning back against a pillar, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his decision settling over him. Despite everything, there’s a sense of finality to the moment.

You take a deep breath, deciding to approach him. As much as the past few months have been tense between the brothers, you know there’s still a bond there, something that’s worth saving. “He misses you, you know?” you say softly, drawing Heeseung’s attention. He lowers his gaze from the ceiling, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, though there’s a hint of guarded curiosity in his tone.

You take a step closer, choosing your words carefully. “Jake. He misses you,” you clarify, meeting his gaze. “Despite everything that’s happened, you still mean a lot to him. He’s missed his older brother. He just doesn’t know how to reach out anymore. Maybe… maybe it’s not too late for you two to fix things.”

Heeseung remains silent for a moment, the tension in his expression softening just slightly. He’s listening, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. “You really think that?” he finally asks, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than you’ve heard in a long time.

You nod. “I do. But it’s going to take effort, Heeseung. Jake might not show it, but he’s hurting. He needs his brother… the one who used to be his hero. You can still be that person to him, if you try.”

Heeseung’s gaze falters for a moment before he looks away, a deep frown settling on his face. It’s clear that your words have struck a chord, but he’s not ready to admit it out loud. "It’s not that simple," he mutters, but there’s a hint of doubt in his voice now, like maybe, just maybe, he’s considering it.

“You’re right," you agree, not pushing him further. "But nothing worth having is ever simple."

Satisfied that you’ve planted the seed, you offer him a small, encouraging smile before excusing yourself. “I’m going to get some snacks. I’ll be back in a few,” you say, giving him a chance to sit with his thoughts.

In the kitchen, you start putting together a finger food board, carefully arranging slices of fruit, cheeses, and crackers. As you work, the sound of muffled voices drifts in from the living room. You pause for a moment, recognizing the familiar tones—Heeseung and Jake.

At first, you can’t make out what they’re saying, but soon enough, the quiet murmur of conversation turns into something you didn’t expect: laughter. The sound is warm, genuine, and for a moment, you find yourself smiling. Maybe your words got through to Heeseung after all.

Before you can finish the snack board, Rose walks into the kitchen, her expression one of gentle insistence. “I’ll take over from here,” she says, giving you a pointed look that says she knows exactly what’s happening in the other room. You hesitate for a moment, but then nod, allowing her to take over as you wipe your hands on a nearby towel and head back to the living room.

As you step out of the kitchen, you hear a knock at the front door. You know immediately who it is— Jaehee. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the door and open it, greeting him with a polite smile. His eyes soften as he sees you, his usual stern demeanor tempered by the thought that you’re carrying his future grandchild.

"How’s my grandchild doing?" he asks, his voice full of genuine warmth and excitement.

Your stomach twists at the mention of the baby—a lie you know you’ll have to address soon—but for now, you play along. "Doing well," you reply with a tight-lipped smile, quickly changing the subject. "We’ve got some important news to discuss. Jake’s in the living room."

"Important news, huh? Jake sounded pretty cryptic on the phone," Jaehee comments as he follows you inside, his curiosity piqued.

Rose passes by with the snack board just as you’re ushering Jaehee into the living room. When you reach the living room, you find Jake and Heeseung sitting side by side on the couch, the television playing a football match in the background. They’re laughing, relaxed, sharing a moment that feels both foreign and familiar. It’s a sight you haven’t ever seen, and judging by the look on Jaehee’s face, it’s one he hasn’t seen in a while.

Jaehee is the first to break the silence, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Well, this is a welcomed surprise,” he comments, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Jake and Heeseung look up from the snacks they’ve been munching on, both grinning like kids caught in the middle of some harmless mischief. "Yeah, it’s been a long time coming," Jake says, his eyes meeting Heeseung’s with a mix of relief and fondness.

Heeseung clears his throat, the moment of vulnerability passing as he stands up, Jake following suit. Jaehee’s expression turns serious again as he addresses them both. "So, what’s this about? While I like seeing you two get along, I doubt this was a social call."

The mood in the room shifts slightly, the weight of the situation returning as the three of them prepare to explain. Jake takes a deep breath and begins. “We’ve uncovered some things… things about what Yerin has been doing behind the scenes,” he starts, his tone serious.

Heeseung jumps in, backing up Jake’s words with his own account of what he’s uncovered. "She’s been running operations behind our backs, consolidating power for herself." As they go on, you can see Jaehee’s expression darkening, his anger barely contained as he listens to the full extent of Yerin’s betrayal.

When they finally finish explaining, you decide to step in, knowing that the next part might be the hardest for Jaehee to accept. “There’s one more thing,” you say, drawing everyone’s attention. “Yerin… she had an advantage because she was sleeping with my brother. He was manipulated by her, doing everything for my sake. Please, Jaehee, leave him out of this. He doesn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire.”

Jaehee’s eyes flash with anger, his jaw tightening as he processes your words. But then, surprisingly, you see a hint of something else in his expression—perhaps a begrudging respect for you all. “Impressive,” he finally says, his tone measured. “The lengths you were all willing to go.”

He turns to Heeseung, his gaze sharp. “But let me make this clear. The decision is final. The syndicate belongs to Jake. He’s proven that he’s the right one for the job.”

Before Heeseung can react, Jake cuts in, his voice firm but calm. “Actually, I’m giving it to Heeseung,” he says, causing everyone in the room to pause. “He’s always wanted it more than I did. I’ll remain in control of our legitimate businesses, but the mafia… that’s his.”

Jaehee stares at Jake in shock, unable to hide his disbelief. “Why are you giving it away? After everything Heeseung’s done… he tried to kill you!”

Jake’s expression softens as he glances at you, his hand reaching out to squeeze yours. “Because it’s not worth it,” he says quietly, but with conviction. “I never wanted it to begin with. I’ve found something much more important in my life. I’ve found love.”

Jaehee’s gaze shifts between the two of you, and he finally nods, though there’s still a lingering tension in his eyes. “Very well,” he says, turning to you. “But I can’t let Sungchan go scott-free. It won’t send the right message, he still slept with my wife. There will be consequences—a tax on all future imports.”

You nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. “Thank you,” you reply, relieved that the punishment is at least somewhat lenient.

Jaehee’s expression darkens again as he turns back to Heeseung. “And as for Yerin… I’ll deal with her.” You all know what that means, it’s clear—Jaehee plans to kill her.

Heeseung steps forward, a mix of defiance and desperation in his voice. “Is that really necessary? She’s still my mother.”

Jaehee scoffs, his voice cold. “Need I remind you of the hit she’s placed on your head? On Jake’s head? On your unborn nephew’s head?”

The truth of Jaehee’s words hangs in the air, heavy and undeniable. You can feel the tension rising again, and in a moment of nervousness, you let out a small laugh, cutting through the silence. "Actually... I’m not really pregnant," you admit, your voice tinged with a mix of guilt and relief. "It was a ploy to get Yerin to show her hand."

Jaehee huffs, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your confession. But then, surprisingly, a hint of admiration flickers in his gaze. “Impressive,” he repeats.

Heeseung, sensing the thick tension in the room, tilts his head and gives you a half-smirk. “Well, I’m glad you’re not pregnant,” he quips, his voice light. “I was starting to worry how we’d ever explain the lack of resemblance between the baby and Jake.”

A chuckle escapes Jake, and even Jaehee’s stern expression softens, a begrudging smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The air in the room lightens a bit, the tension easing just enough to make everyone feel like they could breathe again.

Jaehee shakes his head, the hint of a smile still lingering. “You all certainly know how to keep things interesting,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else. He looks between Jake and Heeseung, his gaze lingering on his sons. There’s a sense of pride there, mingled with the frustration and disappointment that had clouded his features earlier. Finally, he nods, as if coming to a conclusion. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he says, turning to head for the door. “You know where to find me if you need anything.”

Jake and Heeseung stand side by side, watching their father leave. As the door closes behind Jaehee, a quiet stillness falls over the room once again. The two brothers remain where they are, not speaking, not moving, just absorbing the gravity of what’s happened.

After a moment, Jake turns to Heeseung, his expression softening. “You know,” he starts, his voice low, “I didn’t expect this. Any of this. But... I’m glad you’re here.”

Heeseung glances at Jake, his usual cocky demeanor tempered by something more genuine. “Yeah, well, you’ve always had a knack for dragging me into things,” he says, though there’s no bite to his words. In fact, there’s something almost tender in the way he says it, a hint of the older brother Jake used to know—the one who protected him, the one who cared.

Jake’s lips curl into a small smile, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting Heeseung’s again. “I’m serious, Heeseung. I missed this... missed you.” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that’s rare, something raw and real that he’s only ever let show in the most private of moments.

Heeseung seems to struggle with his emotions, the tough exterior he’s maintained for so long wavering. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, the words seemingly caught in his throat. Finally, he lets out a breath, one that sounds like it’s been held for years.

“I missed you too, Jake,” he admits quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “More than I ever let on.”

Jake’s heart swells at the admission, and before he can think twice, he steps forward and pulls Heeseung into a hug. It’s awkward at first—two brothers who have spent years at odds with one another—but then Heeseung relaxes into it, his arms wrapping around Jake in return. For a moment, they’re not two men caught up in the dangerous games of power and betrayal—they’re just brothers, trying to find their way back to each other.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice muffled against Jake’s head. “For everything.”

Jake tightens his hold on Heeseung, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t be,” he replies. “We’ve both done things we’re not proud of. But we can’t change the past... we can only try to do better moving forward.”

Jake pulls back slightly to look at Heeseung, his eyes searching his brother’s face for any sign of hesitation. But what he finds there instead is a quiet resolve.

“Let’s do better, then,” Heeseung says, his voice firm with determination. “For both of us. For our family.”

Heeseung nods, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “For our family,” he agrees.

The two brothers stand there for a moment longer, the weight of their shared history settling into something a bit lighter, something they can carry together. It’s not a perfect reconciliation—there’s still so much left unsaid, so much that needs to be worked through—but it’s a start. And for now, that’s enough.

Heeseung breaks the hug with a gentle pat on Jake’s back, a soft smile still lingering on his lips. "Well," he starts, trying to lighten the mood, "if you ever do need advice on, you know, anything baby-related, just remember—I’m always available."

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. "I’ll keep that in mind, but something tells me you’re not exactly the expert."

Heeseung smirks, raising an eyebrow. "You’d be surprised. I’m great with kids—just ask anyone. Besides, who could resist this charm?" He winks at you playfully, adding, "If Jake ever messes up, you know where to find me."

You laugh, shaking your head at his teasing. "Sorry, Heeseung, but I’m just as madly in love with him as he is with me. So, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere."

Heeseung smirks, “are you sure, sweetheart? I’m known for being the bigger brother.”

Jake rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin on his face. "Nice try, Heeseung. But you’re going to have to find someone else to charm. This one’s off-limits."

Heeseung shrugs with a good-natured smile. "Can’t blame a guy for trying." He turns serious for a moment, glancing between the two of you. "But really, I’m glad you both have each other. It’s good to see you happy, Jake."

You and Jake exchange a look, warmth filling the space between you. "Thanks, Heeseung," Jake says, his voice soft. "That means a lot."

Heeseung nods, and the three of you stand there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling in. But then, Heeseung’s mischievous grin returns. "But just so you know, if Jake ever messes up... I’ll be right here."

You laugh, leaning into Jake as he wraps an arm around you. "I’ll keep that in mind, Heeseung. But I think Jake’s doing pretty well so far."

Heeseung chuckles, giving Jake a playful punch on the arm. "Take care of her, Jake. Don’t make me come back here and steal her away."

Jake grins, pulling you closer. "Don’t worry, Heeseung. I’ve got this."

With one last smile, Heeseung nods and heads for the door. "Alright, I’m out. Get some rest, both of you. And Jake—remember, I’m just a call away."

"Will do," Jake replies, his voice genuine.

As the door closes behind Heeseung, the room feels quieter, the intensity of the earlier conversation fading away. Jake turns to you, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “It feels like this is finally the end of all the bad,” he murmurs into your hair. “The start of something good—something real.”

You nod, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe it’s only going to get better from here.”

Jake pulls back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and hope. “Yeah, it will. We’ll make sure of it.”

You smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “Speaking of making things better… I have something to share with you. Something Yerin gave me.”

Jake’s brows furrow in curiosity. “What is it?”

You take his hand, leading him upstairs to your bedroom. “It’s something your mother left behind for you,” you explain, your voice gentle as you open the closet and pull out the chest Yerin had brought earlier. “She wanted you to have it when you got married.”

Jake’s eyes widen in surprise as he takes in the sight of the chest. “My mother… did this?”

You nod, setting the chest down in front of him. “Yes, before she passed away. It’s full of things she wanted you to have, to remember her by.”

Jake slowly lowers himself onto the bed, staring at the chest with a mixture of awe and disbelief. His hand hovers over the lid, almost as if he’s afraid to touch it. “I can’t believe she did this… for me.”

You sit beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She loved you, Jake. She wanted to make sure you knew that, even if she couldn’t be here.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake finally opens the chest. Inside, he finds the baby pictures, a pair of tiny booties he wore as a baby among other baby clothes, and the stack of carefully folded letters. The sight of these treasures brings tears to his eyes, the emotions he’s held back for so long finally breaking free.

He picks up one of the baby pictures, his hands trembling slightly. “This is… me,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. Then he reaches for the little booties, holding them as if they were the most precious thing in the world. “She kept these...”

Tears spill from his eyes, and you rub his shoulder, your heart aching for him. “She wanted you to have these memories, Jake. To remember her and the love she had for you.”

Jake wipes at his eyes, but the tears keep coming. He sets the booties aside and picks up one of the letters, the one addressed to him at the very top. With a deep breath, he opens it and begins to read aloud.

The letter starts with a heartfelt message: “If you’re reading this, Jaeyun, then my biggest fear has come true. I’ve been taken from you, and I’ve left my only joy behind. But I want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world. You’ve been the light of my life, and I’ve cherished every moment we had together.”

Jake’s voice breaks as he continues reading, tears falling freely now. “I hope you grow into the man I always knew you would be—a good man, a kind man. And I hope you can forgive me for not being able to stay. I wanted to be there for every milestone in your life, but since I can’t, I’ve written these letters for you. Each one is meant for a different moment, a different milestone. Keep them close, and know that I’m with you in spirit, every step of the way.”

He pauses, overwhelmed by the emotions surging through him. You squeeze his shoulder gently, offering silent support as he finishes reading the letter.

Jake sets the letter down, his eyes red and swollen from crying. But there’s a sense of peace in his expression now, a weight lifted off his shoulders. “She... she really thought of everything,” he whispers, almost to himself.

As he digs through the chest, he suddenly pulls out another letter, this one addressed “To the one my son chooses.” He sniffs, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sadness and hope. “This one’s for you,” he says, handing it to you.

Your hands tremble slightly as you take the letter, your heart pounding in your chest. With a deep breath, you open it and begin to read.

The letter is filled with warmth and love, the words carefully chosen. “To the one my son chooses,” it begins. “To the one my son chooses… I hope you know how extraordinary he is. His heart is kind, but strong. He’s slow to anger yet always ready to defend his friends and help anyone in need. If I can be so bold, I dare say he has everything good from myself that I wished he would have when I first found out I was pregnant with him. Courage, compassion, selflessness, and an undying love for math.”

You pause to clear your throat, the words getting to you as well. “Jaeyun was raised by his father following my death. I'm sure he wasn’t awarded the luxury of love or empathy and so I hope that the one he chooses— you, I hope you are good to him.”

“I suppose every mother wishes the best for her child. I hope you are everything he needs and deserves. I hope you support him when he doubts himself, I hope you encourage him to be the best person he can be and I hope you challenge him when he needs to be challenged. Know that he will want to give you everything. He will love you with all of his heart. That is just the way he is. Please be good to him, because he believes so deeply in the goodness of the world, and I never want to see that vanish. If he has found you, then I am glad you'll be there for him as I can not.”

“Thank you for loving Jaeyun. Thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t be. I know he’s in good hands with you, and that brings me so much peace. Please, take care of him, cherish him, and help him find the happiness he deserves. And know that I’m grateful for you, for the love you’ve brought into his life. All of my love, sieomeoni.”

You look up at Jake, tears brimming in your eyes. “Your mother... She was an incredible woman, Jake. I’ll do everything I can to honor her wishes.”

Jake smiles through his tears, pulling you into a tight embrace. “She would have loved you,” he whispers. “Just like I do.”

As Jake pulls you into the embrace, his warmth and the steady beat of his heart against your cheek soothe the storm of emotions swirling inside you. His arms around you feel like a sanctuary, and you lean into him, drawing comfort from his presence.

He gently pulls back, his eyes searching yours, a tender smile still lingering on his lips. “Thank you for being here,” he murmurs, his voice hushed but filled with gratitude.

You nod, your eyes misty as you try to hold back the tears. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you reply softly, reaching up to touch his cheek. The tenderness of the moment seems to stretch between you, an unspoken understanding passing silently in the space.

Jake’s gaze drops to your lips, and he takes a slow, deliberate breath. His hand brushes along your jaw, fingertips barely grazing your skin, igniting a spark of warmth that spreads through you. He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle, exploratory kiss.

The touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine as you respond, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, growing more passionate as Jake’s hands slide to your waist, drawing you in.

As the kiss deepens, the world around you seems to dissolve into the softness of the moment. Jake’s hands move gently across your back, pulling you even closer. You can feel his heartbeat quicken, a rhythm that matches the quickening pace of your own.

The intimacy of the kiss is overwhelming, a blend of tenderness and passion that makes it hard to distinguish where his emotions end and yours begin. Jake’s lips are warm and inviting, and the way he holds you feels both protective and loving.

Gradually, the intensity of the kiss starts to subside. Jake pulls back slightly, his breath mingling with yours, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of emotion and vulnerability. You can see the depth of his feelings reflected in his gaze, a silent conversation passing between you.Jake’s thumb lightly brushes against your cheek, and his expression is one of pure tenderness. “I love you,” he says softly, his voice a gentle murmur.

You smile through the haze of emotion, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice barely more than a breath.

Jake takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on,” he says with a soft smile, guiding you up the bed. The room feels warm and inviting, and you follow him willingly, your heart full of love and contentment.

He lays down on the bed and gently pulls you down beside him, wrapping his arms around you in a cozy embrace. You settle against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the comfort of his presence. The warmth of the bed and the closeness of Jake create a safe and serene haven where you both can simply be.

Jake kisses the top of your head, his voice soft and content. “I’m really happy with how things have turned out,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know what to expect, but being here with you now… it feels right.”

You snuggle closer, resting your head against his chest, and listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Me too,” you reply softly. “I’m grateful for every moment we’ve shared and for the chance to be here with you.”

Jake’s arms tighten around you, and you both settle into the peaceful quiet of the room, wrapped in each other’s warmth. The sense of connection and love between you feels more profound than ever, and you know that, no matter what the future holds, you’ll face it together, with each other’s support and affection.

As you drift into a comfortable embrace and silence, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of love and contentment.

taglist: @dreamiestay @inkpot-winters @minniejenseo @faithnsstuff @sumzysworld @sunpov @laurradoesloveu @onlyhyunjin @iheartjayke

[jaeyunbaeun]

[6] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "i loved you."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: 6/6- the final part! 10k words, setting-typical violence, abusive dynamics, power dynamics, cheating, violence! murder! implied character death! (oops)

-

there was a light knock at your door.

yeosang stood at the door with a bundle of terrycloth in his arms, his silver armor dulled under dim candlelight. yeosang's eyes flickered over your face before he dangled the wrapped bundle in front of you, his armor and the bundle clinking softly in the ensuing silence.

"the kitchen's finest wine and fried sugar dough," yeosang announced, bowing his head, "made to your grace's liking, i hope."

you laughed; you could not help it. you propped the door open with one of the heavy gold corner vases, before you laid out your cloak on the stone floor and took a seat. yeosang was already carefully placing the flagons of wine and fried dough on the cloth he'd brought. the wine was a blood red, dornish red of course. it made your heart flutter in a way you had not allowed it in a while.

you watched as yeosang placed his helmet next to his knee. his blond hair spilled over his shoulders, half of it pulled into an unkempt knot at the top of his head. yeosang had always been beautiful. to younger you, his beauty was the same as a snake's, with lovely colors that glistened under the sun. he obtained many wreaths declaring him as a favorite during tourneys. he snuck away with people the few times you'd attended the drinking afterwards.

even now, so clearly tired from his long days as a kingsguard, he was a sight for sore eyes. he still was very much a snake, but snakes lived in the deserts of dorne. it reminded you of home.

he poured you a glass and situated himself at the door hinge, half turned to you, as he always did.

you sighed, "when will you join me?"

"oh sweet thing," yeosang rolled his eyes, "you're consistent, if anything, at least."

you snorted, and yeosang's lips quirked into a small smile.

the wine was dark as blood when you wiped a drip of it from your mouth, your fingertips bloodied by it. it was a strongwine, sweet and the smallest bit sour, warming your blood despite the cold stone floors.

you wiped the wine on your robes, but it still stained your fingers. dark red. like blood.

you asked, "when did hongjoong leave?"

you took another swig.

yeosang answered, "yesterday, at daybreak."

"oh," you said, "he left quickly."

yeosang nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line.

you drew your knees close. the wine made your skin warm. it jumbled your words. loosened your mouth. this was a routine between the two of you, though.

"do you think he'll really come back?" your voice crumbled at the last word, like the sugar crumbling off the untouched fried bits of dough laid haphazardly before you.

yeosang never answered these kinds of questions. you'd grown used to it.

yeosang turned, however, to fully face you, his back to the hall.

he said, "i think i shall drink with you today, sweet thing."

you'd blinked in surprise, drawn out from the heaviness in your chest. "really?"

yeosang's lion-like eyes curled into something softer, kind almost. perhaps, it was pity, but the wine made it into something else. he nodded, "really."

you watched as drank from your flagon, throwing his head back to empty it. dark blood red dripped down the corners of his mouth. he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his armor clinking loudly.

you frowned when he grinned at you, his grin too wide. you said, "did you have to down the whole thing?"

yeosang scowled, "i am the one risking my honor for this. i deserve more than a sip."

"you truly want me to believe you have honor, ser yeosang?"

"fine, i won't argue with that," yeosang snorted. "however i did risk quite a lot sneaking this up here."

"surely the great ser yeosang can sneak past a handful of servants? besides i'm sure the rats far outnumber the people after everyone fled. who would you have to sneak past?"

yeosang paused, raising a brow. he tilted his head in that curious way of his, "what makes you think everyone fled?"

"my windows overlook the main entrance," you reminded him, nodding to the barred windows.

yeosang's brows furrowed. all he said was, "the king is still here, your grace."

"ah yes, the mad king." you'd scoffed, rolling your eyes. you leaned back onto the heels of your hands, appraising yeosang's guarded posture as you frowned, "no one else is here but him, i assume."

"it is true, some of the nobles have joined the rebellion. others have left king's landing," yeosang gulped down a much smaller mouthful of wine, his brows furrowed, "but the kingsguard remain."

"only because they are obliged to." you mumbled, "frankly, i am surprised the prince did not take you with him."

"the king would not allow it," yeosang said. his lips turned down into a small frown.

you mulled over his words, "because the king does not wish to provide lord kang an opportunity for his heir to return to him?"

it was a question you already knew the answer to.

yeosang's snicker was unamused, "the king thinks very highly of me, it seems."

"a sure sign he's succumbed fully to his madness."

yeosang let out a soft laugh. you'd heard it only a few times during your stay in king's landing. it was soft, surprised even, a guffaw more than anything. you could not help but smile.

after a beat, yeosang said, "mingi is here, too."

for a moment, your heart ached for them. ever since you stepped into the red keep, you saw a companionship between hongjoong, yeosang, and mingi that you'd often been envious of. you were always an outsider looking in. and when san and jongho visited, it was as if you were pushed further into the peripheral. even when san courted you, you remained watching, observing. jongho and hongjoong would exchange silent grins over san's head during lunches. hongjoong would pat san on the back and pull him into a long hug every time he greeted san when he returned to the red keep. even during the time when hongjoong ignored you and made sly digs towards san, there was still an air of camaraderie there. hongjoong laughing with yeosang and mingi during your studies. how highly mingi spoke of hongjoong. how yeosang spoke of hongjoong. it was as though despite the flaws and horrible bits, hongjoong was still theirs to love. and that was what it was, was it not? love. you saw it clear as day, when hongjoong confronted you for using mingi. he loved them in a way he never loved you, in a way you'd never love him, in a way you had not had the chance to love your brothers. and they loved him the same way. they were boys together.

but now hongjoong had gone to the north, and yeosang and mingi were left behind in this cage, and jongho and san were leading a rebellion headed your way, to oust hongjoong and his father from the throne. they were no longer boys.

your heart tore at the thought. somehow, this all affected you too, despite how avidly outside of them you were. you were always an outsider looking in, but, still, you were a kid with them, too, for a bit.

"what went wrong?"

"the mad king was always on thin ice, but...i believe everyone hoped hongjoong could be different. had it been a different lord that night," yeosang's hum was thoughtful, "that trust in hongjoong could have survived the mad king's reign. unfortunately, lord lim was the first nail in his coffin, and seonghwa is his last."

the memory of lord lim tied to a post, going up in flames, returned to you, clear as day. you'd never forget it. not his cries, nor the way hongjoong whispered dracarys, nor the fact that you did not stop him. he'd called you horrible names, upset because the mad king beheaded his nephew. the lims, you remembered, were one of many houses that had gathered with jongho during his brothel visits, according to lady irene. now you knew why he'd gathered in the brothels. you'd been so engrossed in your own sole position in this game of thrones, in communicating with your brothers and merely establishing ways to get information, that you had not even thought to use that information for your own well-being. perhaps, if you did, you would not have been left here to die.

"lord lim? why lord lim?" you asked.

yeosang laughed, but there was no amusement there, "jongho and san regard lord lim as something of a second father. they grew up in the riverlands, right alongside seonghwa."

"oh."

you'd stood alongside hongjoong as he coaxed his dragon to burn lord lim at the stake. i shall join you, you said. hongjoong had looked back at you, and you had felt glee when hongjoong had whispered to his dragon to breathe fire. you were complicit, not only by marriage but by actions. hongjoong knew this. he knew, yet he left you behind.

and seonghwa?

yeosang's jaw tightened when you met his gaze once more. his pretty face twisted with scorn. he said, "jongho adores seonghwa. they say hongjoong stole him from winterfell. plucked him from the castle on dragonback. we always teased jongho that he would have started a war for seonghwa."

yeosang's shoulders rose and fell in a silent chuckle.

you thought of seonghwa, of what you'd said to him. you were complicit there too. lord lim and seonghwa. both nails in hongjoong's coffin.

"do you believe what they say?"

yeosang shrugged, "seonghwa always did what he pleased. i don't know what to believe. it is merely speculation."

you let his words sink in as you took another sip of wine. yeosang's cheeks were flushed pink with alcohol, and you felt your stomach churn at finally receiving the information you'd been long wishing for. perhaps, rotting away in these chambers without knowing what was happening beyond the red keep was a good thing, because now all you could do was try to reconcile the fact that you were in fact left for dead here. perhaps this was punishment for standing with hongjoong, for using mingi the way you had, for allowing the jealous beast inside you to lash out at park seonghwa. for daring to play the game of thrones.

you looked up at yeosang, his brown eyes meeting yours, lingering. you held the flagon at eye level. yeosang reached for it without hesitation. you watched as he took several gulps of wine, blood red droplets staining his lips.

the strongwine clouded your head, and loosened your tongue, and perhaps if you were in different circumstances, you would have found your ease around kang yeosang embarrassing.

yeosang loosened the ties to his armor, placing it next to his helmet, his white cotton tunic crisp even in the dim lighting.

yeosang must have had the same thought as you - his eyes met yours, and there was a moment of sheepishness there you'd never seen from him before. you shook your head, tone conspiring, "i won't tell. who is there for me to tell anyway?"

yeosang snickered, an ugly snort of a thing that echoed through the empty hall, through your chambers. you only took a drink from the flagon between you both.

the silence between you was melancholic. yeosang leaned back against the door hinge, studying you. under his scrutiny, you lifted your chin. you never did like feeling small, studied, around kang yeosang.

perhaps the wine made you bold, or perhaps it was the loneliness. you leaned in, and you said, "what are you thinking?"

yeosang shrugged, his eyes flickered between yours. after a beat of silence, he said, "in another life, we would have wedded."

he was an option of the queen's, long long ago. it was quite a thought. your cheeks burned from the wine. "a terrible life to live, i think."

"yes," yeosang smiled, and it was a soft thing. sincere, even. his voice was softer. "i think so, too."

something churned at the pit of your stomach when yeosang did not lean away or avert his gaze. you thought him quite pretty like this, messy hair and cotton tunic and flushed cheeks and wine-stained lips and glassy eyes.

he reached out then, and it was not a hesitant touch, as you were so used to. his thumb brushed along your cheek, and even that single touch stirred the restless fire in your heart. yeosang's eyes remained fixed on your face, as if he were studying your reactions. he breathed, "what kind of life would you have liked to live then?"

"the kind where i feel loved without having to beg for it," you admitted.

yeosang's brows furrowed, and you'd blinked when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. he was warm and tasted of honeyed strongwine, and you returned his kiss only to feel something other than the overwhelming weight of your worries. it was all teeth and wine and imperfection, off kilter and a blur as you curled your fingers in his soft hair and he tugged you closer, his calloused fingers digging into your skin. the wine spilled between you, but neither of you cared to pull away. you only laughed as he pulled you closer in a poor attempt to avoid the spill. your skin tingled where he touched you, leaving a trail of goosebumps. you were starved of touch and warmth, and he seemed the same way, and you knew you should have pushed him away, but you'd long abandoned such things. you felt the rush of fire, and you remembered your age again.

you pushed him back only to drag your fingers down the front of his crisp white tunic. he made noises as pretty as you pressed another kiss to his lips, as his fingers fumbled with the ties of your tunic and found warm skin. you were something-and-twenty again, on the verge of counting the many moons you've missed, and this was not a battle between the two of you, neither was it a game, it was merely the two of you moving imperfectly, nails digging into skin, kisses wherever either could reach. it was merely feeling wanted without having to ask or worry.

at least until your arm knocked against his helmet. you yelped against his mouth, surprised more than in pain. the resulting clang was deafening, too loud, bouncing off the stone walls. you'd blinked when yeosang jumped, sitting back, pushing you away, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed as red as his lips. your heart stilled as his gaze tore from you to his discarded armor. clarity washed over you like a cold bath.

you fell back onto your palms, your breath as heavy as his, and you watched yeosang close his eyes. his throat bobbed as he swallowed. his tunic had slipped from his shoulders, his hair a mess, and his skin blotchy and red. you were sure you looked the same.

your heart continued to pound in your chest as yeosang dragged his hands through his messy blonde hair and finally, finally, opened his eyes.

slowly, he murmured, voice rough, tone regretful, "i took an oath to never lay with another. i am no oathbreaker."

you let out a breathless laugh, "you strike me as the type to break oaths and laugh, yeosang."

yeosang sighed, shaking his head.

you dragged your hands through your hair, too, straightening up as you took in the mess you both made, the spilled wine and your disheveled appearances and the lingering tension settling over both your shoulders, a sharp dissonance in the camaraderie you'd managed to salvage in all this.

"we've made quite a mess." yeosang whispered.

it was supposed to be a serious thing, buthe sounded exasperated, annoyed, and you laughed at the absurdity of it all.

after a beat, he burst into laughter, a musical sound that cleared the tension swiftly. never did you think you'd find any kind of solace in kang yeosang's company, no matter how brief, yet here you were.

~.~.~.~.~

"did you have any dreams? aside from being a knight?" you asked yeosang. you laid sprawled on your back, peering up at yeosang as he stood guard outside your door. the ale was empty and you should have been asleep. he'd dragged you from the door to your bed and helped you lie down, but you were now laying with your head hanging from the side, peering at an upside down yeosang who only rolled his eyes at your question.

yeosang leaned against the door to your chambers, body half-in and half-out.

you flipped onto your stomach on the bed, and you drawled, drunker than you'd wanted to be, "indulge me, ser yeosang."

yeosang laughed, a tinkle of a thing. he said, "i've always dreamt of being a knight."

"oh?" you'd snorted, gesturing around you, "is it everything you'd imagined it'd be?"

"of course," yeosang nodded, "terribly annoying royalty and all."

you rested your head on your palm as you looked at yeosang. you said, "my dream was to be kind. i'd told my brothers a long time ago."

yeosang turned to look at you, his brows furrowed.

"what?"

he said, "you never talk about your brothers."

you shrugged, "it is easier not to."

"i dreamt of being a chivalrous knight," yeosang said after a beat, "the kind from the stories who protects innocents."

"really?"

"it was a childish dream," yeosang muttered, turning away to peer down the empty hallway.

"i think it's a nice dream. you're already quite close to achieving it."

you could see the corners of yeosang's mouth lift into a smile. he did not look at you as he said, "yours is, too. you're quite kind, sweet thing."

your cheeks felt hot, but you shook your head, "i am not."

"you are," yeosang met your gaze once more, his expression reassuring. "you try to be, at least, and that's all that matters."

~.~.~.~.~

you were something-and-twenty when king's landing's sun was bright and lively, the air clean, and the sunlight through the barred window warm against your skin. it reminded you of sunspear.

neither you nor yeosang spoke of the kiss since that night. you'd both returned to the usual routine - yeosang brought you snacks and drinks when he was assigned outside your chambers, and you sat at the door, and you both talked. he was the company you craved all this time. you did not love him, but you liked his company, and you hated that you'd only had the chance to figure it out now.

the only difference, you noticed, was that yeosang would sometimes recount stories of his time at casterly rock - his brother and sister he seemed to adore, his mother who had passed giving birth to his younger brother, the mischief he used to get up to with san in the gardens. they were brief moments told here and there, when the orange he brought was too tart or when the feeling of knowing you were doomed caught up to you and you did not want to speak to him, or when you asked him a question that he truly did not seem to have the answer to. you hadn't been able to piece together much of yeosang's past, but he gave you enough to know it was his strange way of reconciling with you - perhaps it was an apology for the other night.

he certainly never brought strongwine to your door anymore.

you sat on the floor beneath the warm sun streaming through your barred windows.

someone knocked on the door. you called for them to enter.

yeosang stood at the threshold of your chambers, his helmet on and his stance rigid.

something was wrong. you could sense it his stance, his quiet, the way his helmet obscured his face. he did not lean against the door as he sometimes would, or remove his armor and let himself relax.

"is everything all right?" you asked.

there was a long pause. even the warm sun felt wrong on your skin.

yeosang shifted from foot to foot, his armor clinking softly. he said, "the kitchens have ran out of your favorites."

you'd blinked at him, "it's okay. i don't mind."

yeosang nodded, the movement brisk. "i'll be outside then."

he shut the door quietly behind him, and you thought perhaps the doom of being left behind in this gilded cage had caught up to him finally as well. you let him be that day.

~.~.~.~.~

the servants did not come with dinner, as they always did right after the sun set.

you stared at the door, the hairs at the back of your neck standing on end.

yeosang should have been outside, yet you could not find it in yourself to open the door or call from him.

one moment everything was silent, soft quiet. the next, you heard shouting. screaming.

you froze. you were never quick to react like yeosang or mingi or wooyoung. you were never good with a sword.

there was a bang at your door. it was jarring, the sudden bang after so many moons of eerie quiet. something slammed hard against the door. dust sprung to the air as whatever slammed against your door rattled the walls of your chambers. hongjoong's trinkets and books fell from their shelves.

you found your body moving on its own, scrambling for the only thing in reach - the fire iron from the unused fireplace. it was not hot but it was heavy.

"yeosang?" you called, your voice catching in your throat enough to make your voice waver. "yeosang, what is going on?"

another bang, louder this time, so loud the vase of flowers hongjoong's mother had sent you after your wedding crashed to the ground. it shattered. dried, long-dead flowers scattered across the floor. he never allowed the servants to take the dead flowers, and now they spilled across the stone floor. your heart leapt against your ribs. you brandished the fire iron, but your hands shook. you readjusted the iron in your hands, over and over.

another slam.

then the door burst open, the heavy door knocking against the wall with a resounding crash. books and vases and pots and trinkets plummeted to the floor, heavy thuds and ceramics shattering one by one filling the room. each thud, each shatter, made your heart slam louder and louder against your ribs.

dust scattered all around. a large figure loomed at the threshold to your chambers, the person's shadow blocking the only way out. you'd blinked. it was not yeosang. you did not recognize them.

before you could ask, or steady yourself, or even catch your bearings for even a moment, the figure lumbered into the room, his sword taller than you, and it was the mountain, you realized. his boots thumped against the stone floor. thud, thud, thud. your blood ran cold with the way he moved towards you, his boots crunching as he stepped in broken ceramics and did not seem to care one bit, his focus fixed on you. lady irene and yeosang had given you cryptic warnings of the mountain. you'd only known him as lord kang's man, and as one of the kingsguard, but now...now he appeared a beast with eyes as black as night and a heavy frame and a sort of saunter that nearly stopped your heart.

you were only four-and-ten when you faced a dragon, you were twenty when you faced the king of dragons, when you married his son and faced him too, but here you stood facing a dangerous man called the mountain, who brandished a claymore that stood taller than you with nothing but an iron fire poker to defend yourself.

the mountain was a part of the kingsguard, but you were not the king, so did that truly matter?

"lord kang sends his regards, your highness," the mountain's voice was gruff as he stalked closer, his dark eyes piercing as he sized you up as a predator sizes up prey. the queen's vase crunches under his heavy boots. "he assures you he means you no ill will, but you are in the way and that will not do."

you've faced dragons and dragon kings and dragon princes, a mountain was nothing to be afraid of. yet here you stood, without an hint of sunspear left in you, shaking in your boots as the man loomed closer, his predatory gaze promising something worse than death even. you wanted nothing more than for everything to be over mere hours ago, but now you stood and you wanted to fight. you hadn't been able to do either.

you needed to fight back. the smallest voice at the back of your head, that sounded awfully like wooyoung and yunho, shouted at you to fight back. you needed to -

the mountain smacked you so hard across the face, you fell into the wall, stumbling onto the floor. you saw stars, more than you ever had in king's landing. your grip on the fire iron remained tight, but it felt useless under the strength of such a beast of a man.

fight back. your brothers would not here of you dying so easily.

you pushed yourself up to your knees, using the fire poker for support. your vision still swam. the mountain's eyes sparked with a sort of primal joy as he peered down at you, and your heart twisted and your stomach churned at the chill that ran down your spine. he reached down, bending at the waist, to grip your face between his fingers.

he opened his mouth to say something, but you spit blood in his face. he flinched back and you swung your fire iron at him. it slashed at the skin of his exposed ankles. he roared, his hand falling from your face. you nearly slammed face first into the cement floor. his roar made your blood run cold, but you scrambled to your feet. you needed to get away from him, you knew. searing pain shot up your skull as you were yanked back by the hair. he dragged you back, tearing hair from your scalp, and you knew not where he was taking you or what your fate would be now, but you knew that this would not end well. you knew it from the moment you saw joy in his eyes after he hit you. the mountain was a beast and you would not die by his hands. you swung your fists, clawed at skin at his face, anything you could put your hands on. he dragged you onto your bed and you kicked at him, your vision still swimming. only later did you learn you were screaming yourself hoarse, and your vision was swimming because of tears.

there was a shout, then, a deep cry that did not come from you or the mountain. the grip on your hair slackened and you fell forward into the ground, the air leaving your lungs too quickly. you gasped for air, until someone grabbed you by the elbows and hauled you to your feet.

you shoved at the touch, slamming your fists against a solid body, until a deep voice gasped, "it is me, y/n. it is mingi."

and you blinked in surprise, withdrawing your hands, even as you allowed him to drag you out your chambers. there was screaming behind you. your ears were ringing. you did not dare to look back, allowing him to lead the way. you both ran, your head still throbbing and your vision still swimming and fingers curled right around mingi's. the two of you ran and ran and ran until he was pushing you through the tapestries and into a tight corridor, and you two were scurrying down a set of steep stairs in darkness, until -

you came to halt at the foot of the stairs. you knew this door. you took this passage out of the red keep on too many occassions.

you looked over at mingi, but you could not see him well in the darkness of the corridor.

"the mountain," your voice was hoarse, too quiet, "did you kill him?"

mingi said, "only stunned him for a moment. if he traces our steps..."

mingi did not wait for an answer from you. he merely pushed past you, avoiding physical contact with you, and peeked through a crack in the doorway before opening it for you. you exited out into the familiar cobblestone street first, the narrow alleyway the same as it always had been. king's landing, however, was quiet. you had no idea what the king had demanded of the commonfolk while you were locked away in your chambers.

you could see mingi's face in the dim candlelight lanterns hanging from the alleyway walls. his expression was grim, a large cut dragging from under his left eye to the bottom of his chin. his lip was swollen, and he had a slight limp. if it were any other time, the two of you would have stuck out sorely in the streets of king's landing, but all was quiet as war loomed on the horizon. perhaps, with the mountain's message from lord kang, the war had already arrived. perhaps it would be over in the morning.

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, to mingi. last you saw him, hongjoong had been involved. but mingi only held up a black cloak to you. you had not seen where he got it from. you pulled it tight around you, pulling the hood over your stinging face. mingi wore a similar black cloak over plainclothes.

without a word, he took your hand, and he pulled you through cobblestone streets. the cobblestone streets were dry from the heat of the sun you'd felt through your bars, but the streets were eerily quiet. windows were boarded shut, and the world was too quiet.

mingi slinked quickly through the streets, you hurrying to keep up with him. the two of you avoided any main streets, using the alleyways to navigate through king's landing. the port was up ahead, you knew, and the smell of sea breeze reminded you terribly of your family. if lord kang sent someone to kill you, then what of your family? what has happened to the king? to...to...

"wait here," mingi murmured, and you watched as he made his way onto the port, closest to the entrance.

there, mingi spoke quietly with a man who had appeared to have been waiting for him. they clasped hands and mingi tilted his head, leaning down to speak to the man. you looked back over your shoulder, to the red keep looming above the city. it seemed peaceful from down below. quiet. especially so early in the morning. you jumped when you turned away and mingi was back at your side. mingi held out a hand.

he said, "we have to go. now."

your face hurt, and your mouth throbbed, and you knew there was no other option for you. so, you took mingi's hand, and let him guide you onto port. a small cargo boat with neutral sails was docked in the corner. mingi held a hand out to help you onto the boat before he readied the boat to set sail.

mingi worked quietly and quickly, his hood slipping from his head. you watched as he kept his eyes on the task at hand, a perpetual furrow curling through his brow.

the man at port had long disappeared. as the boat started sailing through the bay, towards the narrow sea, sails fluttering gently in the breeze, bells rang from the red keep, over and over and over again. mingi sat at one end of the boat, and you fidgeted in your seat at the other, and you could not ignore the supplies packed and ready at your feet.

the red keep was a dot on the horizon when you could finally allow yourself to relax a little bit.

"where are we going?" you asked. your voice was rough.

mingi said, "anywhere but here."

~.~.~.~.~

"where was yeosang?" mingi asked, after a few hours of sailing in silence. it was the first question he'd asked. perhaps he had been waiting for you to ask something. you had not known where to start.

"i don't know."

"you were his post that night, and i - i had this feeling, so i went to check on him and instead i found the mountain dragging you to... " mingi cleared his throat, frowning, "i've had this boat on standby for yeosang and me just in case we needed it. i hoped to never use it."

"why would either of you need it? i thought you took an oath to the king."

"it was something we both decided to invest in long before we joined the kingsguard," mingi said, his tone flat.

"so all that time," you stared at him, and irritation bubbled through the shock and exhaustion that had encompassed you since you set sail, "all that time you tried to convince me hongjoong was a good person while you both had an escape plan?"

you watched mingi struggled with his next words. finally, he said, "it wasn't just for me and yeosang, y/n. it was for hongjoong too."

your chest tightened.

mingi shook his head, "it was just something stupid we'd promised as children. none of us had the heart to end the arrangement."

even now, your heart ached. despite everything.

"'lord kang sends his regards.'" you repeated, changing the subject quickly, "that is what the mountain said before he...before he tried to kill me."

mingi looked troubled, his gaze fixed upon the horizon behind you.

you said, "do you think lord kang will send him after me?"

there was a beat of silence before mingi finally said, "i don't know. i pray to the gods he does not. no one has ever beat the mountain. we're lucky we got out alive."

you sighed, taking in the predicament you were in.

the boat had enough provisions to make it across the narrow sea. dorne was across the narrow sea, to the south, and to the west of the narrow sea lay essos and the free cities. those were two very clear options. despite the longing you had to return to dorne, there was doubt now. you barely recognized yourself as dornish, what if no one else acknowledged you either?

mingi asked, breaking you away from your thoughts, "so where do we go?"

"we?" you frowned, "you want to come with me?"

you thought he'd leave you somewhere and go off on his own. you certainly deserved it.

for the first time in a long while, mingi met your gaze with a steady firmness and slightly flushed cheeks you'd missed. he said, "i will remain by your side, y/n, until you are safe."

"until we are safe," you corrected him.

mingi smile was wide and gummy, and you found yourself smiling back.

~.~.~.~.~

a day into your voyage, you and mingi get caught in a storm. for an entire night, you're rocked back and forth, waves crashing over the boat and onto the deck. you both try to pull the sails in, to keep the boat as steady as possible, but the gods have plans of their own.

when the storm clears, you are both by a shore neither of you can match to the map. there's a small port and when you dock - after an argument that ends abruptly when you both realize that the water in the boat was only rising higher - you discover a small fishing village. there are all kinds of people in the village, people of differing skin colors and eye colors and heights and hair colors and hair textures, and you believed the gods have decided the two of you would find yourselves stranded somewhere in essos.

perhaps you would never be able to step foot in dorne again.

"how long does it take to repair a boat?" mingi asked as he dragged a hand through his hair.

apparently, many many moons when neither of had a single piece of gold to your name or any idea how to speak the local language.

~.~.~.~.~

mingi found a job as a farmhand. you did the village's laundry. the locals seemed to take pity on you two, washed ashore with nothing to your name, so they agreed to any work requests either of you put in. when mingi found an abandoned stone castle, if one could call such a small building that, up atop a hill overlooking the narrow sea, the villagers seemed to look upon you both with even more pity. they avoided the hill, shaking their heads as they besmirched the place. you did not fully understand their words, but you knew they hated it for a reason.

"perhaps it's haunted," you said to mingi one day, as you two made your beds on opposite sides of the stone room. the straw bedding was warm, and you'd gone too many days without warm bedding. to think such a small thing would be a luxury now.

mingi grimaced, "why say that right before bed?"

you laughed, pulling the thin blanket over you - the bed was so much smaller than the one in the red keep, yet you found it easier to sleep in this one. you snorted while mingi grumbled to himself about spirits in the dark.

for once, you found a similar comfort as you once had before king's landing.

a troubadour wandered into the village shortly after you both settled into your new home, singing of great tales from both faraway lands beyond the sea and close cities such as pentos. the village folk clapped and sang along, and you and mingi found a spot at the back, sitting side-by-side, but never touching.

it was quite a sight, enjoyable even. you'd laughed for the first time in a while. at least until the troubadour sang of the sacking of king's landing.

it was a dramatic song. the villagers held their breath. so did you.

king kim was killed by a member of his own kingsguard, the bard sang as he gulped down ale. an oathbreaker and a kingslayer.

kingslayer, the woman who sold you vegetable seeds gasped. the word echoed through the crowd. oathbreaker, kingslayer, oathbreaker.

they found him sitting on the iron throne, the king's body laid at his feet. throat slashed! he called, his hushed words echoing all around in the silence. it fell heavy on your shoulders. even the birds seemed to repeat it into the distance as they cawed. the man called, oathbreaker and kingslayer kang yeosang. the king is dead, the prince's spouse is dead. they are all dead!

dead, dead, dead.

the crowd jeered at the man dressed in fake kingsguard outfit, wooden sword in hand, a caricature of kang yeosang. your chest felt tight.

the troubadour sang more of jongho's rebellion, but you did not care for the reactions of those around you. you only looked to mingi. he stared at the performers, stunned. perhaps mingi had not known of yeosang's plans. the shock was too genuine. that was a relief at least. manipulation thrived in everyone around you, except for mingi. you had to believe that.

you tapped his knee. mingi's head whipped to meet your gaze. you gestured towards the hill, and he nodded before you could open your mouth. his tense shoulders remained, but relief flooded his expression. he hurried to his feet, turning away first, and perhaps as you watched mingi hurry away, you'd stood frozen for just a moment longer to hear of his fate. perhaps, the troubadour continued on and on about jongho's rebellion, about san's attack on dragonstone - where you knew the queen was sent away, about everything but him.

you shook your head, following behind mingi. you did not bother to keep up with his pace, merely watching his tense shoulders and curled fists as rocks skittered down the pathway as he walked.

it took until you were nearing your little hill house, the sea twinkling softly under moonlight beneath you, the villager's drunken giggles and cries a distant whisper, the night breeze a soft touch against your skin, to gather the courage to break the silence that had befallen you two.

"mingi," you called after him.

mingi ignored you. the crunching of his feet against rocks and dirt was your only answer.

you sighed, picking up speed. as the hill leveled out at the top, so did mingi's pace.

"mingi." you called once more.

mingi spun on his heels, rocks dislodging from beneath his feet. awash in moonlight, he seemed younger somehow, yet more exhausted than he had ever been before. the shadows draped over his sharp features. his mouth quivered and his chin dipped, yet his eyes remained steady. the scar that dripped down from his eye to his chin glowed under the moonlight.

he used to look at you like you hung the stars, like you were the sun waking from the horizon every morning, like you were above him.

now he saw you as you were. the thought terrified you. you were nothing good, certainly not to him. he saw all of it, all of you.

mingi dragged both his hands through his hair. it was overgrown now. he usually tied it back when he went to work.

he opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a staggered breath.

you stepped closer. he did not back away, at least.

"i am sorry," you said. you did not know what else to say.

mingi blinked, as if you'd hit him. "you...this is not..."

a pause, before mingi whispered, his deep voice cracked around the edges, "yeosang told me nothing, you know that? that's the worst part. he never confided in me. i told him everything, my woes and my successes. everything. but he...he kept everything to himself."

mingi's deep voice shattered then. he tugged at his hair, his eyes shining with tears. you pressed hesitant hands to his shaking palms.

you said, "it is not your fault. he decided to do that on his own."

"i could have stopped him."

"no, you could not have," you shook your head, clutching his trembling hands close.

"i could have tried," mingi whispered, each syllable a knife to your chest.

mingi sunk to the ground then, and you went with him. he pressed your intertwined hands to his face, and you watched him sob, his shoulders hunched over and his sobs wracked his whole body. to see such a pillar of strength reduced to this - you always knew what the people around you were like, you'd always been given warnings since the beginning, but mingi grew up in the red keep. he only believed in the good. he had no reason to see their true colors this way.

you could only think that he truly was better than the rest of you. you could only agree that he did not deserve this.

yet here he was. his whole world was crumbling and the only thing you could do was hold his hand through it.

~.~.~.~.~

lord kang pronounced you dead, but you knew he knew you were not. the mountain had to have reported you'd escaped. so why he would leave a loose thread like you unattended to was beyond you.

you knew if your brother believed the kangs had killed you, then your brothers would rather rot than join jongho's rebellion. where that left hongjoong, you had no idea. last you heard, he'd kidnapped park seonghwa, triggering jongho's rebellion, san was sent to take dragonstone in jongho's name, likely meant to kill the queen in the process if she was even alive, and you remained in a remote village off the coast of the narrow sea. perhaps lord kang hoped that the prince leaving you behind to die as collateral damage to run away with park seonghwa would spur your brothers to fight alongside jongho. it was hongjoong's duty to keep you safe, of course, and he failed miserably. yunho and wooyoung would have hongjoong's head for that very reason. the troubadours and rumors only ever mentioned dorne as a footnote, so you had no idea how your brothers were faring.

you wished to live in peace; you were even resigned to it. spending the rest of your life farming and doing laundry and trying to make it up to mingi for manipulating his feelings at king's landing did not seem like the worst of fates. even mingi seemed happy with his share, as kind as he was, his smiles seemed genuine. he did not seem to miss his father or the kingsguard or the red keep. at least he did not make it known to you if he did.

mingi did not look at you as he used to, with stars in his eyes, but you still caught him staring sometimes. he did not touch you often, even when he had to move around you in your narrow living space. you appreciated it. you did not think you could love him the way he wanted you too. maybe he could not either.

you tried to live in peace, but the troubadours came to sing often, and rumors spread quickly, and you were kept aware of current events even if you did not want to be. westeros was right across the narrow sea, of course. you would not be able to escape it. dorne was across the narrow sea as well, calling to you. you thought of your brothers, left to mourn your father, to then mourn you, and you missed them so. but you'd grown used to missing them. was it worth it to emerge from the dead in the midst of this war?

~.~.~.~.~

you were five-and-twenty on a windy, cloudy day. a storm was brewing, and when you looked over the hill, you could barely see the village down below. fog obscured the village homes. even the tavern's bright red roof was barely visible. the sea was tumultuous below. waves crashed against the cliffs and beach below. usually children would be playing in the sand, but it was empty. you hurried to bring the laundry in, wind whipping your hair in your face.

a shadow befell your home and your yard. a chill ran down your spine as you looked up. you had not seen his dragon in many many name-days, but you recognized it right away. above the clouds was a large creature of shining black scales. if it were sunny, the dragon's scales would have reflected back the colors of the rainbow, catching the attention of everyone around you. but it was dark and gloomy and thunder boomed, shaking you to your core, and no one would know that the prince of westeros was descending upon you on dragonback.

wind whipped at your face as you craned your neck to watch the dragon circle your home. it wove in and out between stormy grey clouds. the laundry basket tumbled from your hands. the wind screamed. the laundry lines shook. your world felt fragile once more, despite the fact that you were no longer trapped behind gilded barred windows.

then he descended upon you.

your heart lodged in your throat as the shadow got bigger and bigger, as wind rushed all around you. your clothes flew, your hair whipped at your skin, your lips became dry, your eyes watered, but you did not avert your gaze as the beast landed upon a rock, wings flapping one last gust wind before the dragon bowed its head. the ground shook as it landed. it sounded like thunder.

his blonde hair gleamed, strands of silver-white falling into his eyes despite the way he's restrained his hair into a severe bun at the top of his head. he remained seated on the back of his dragon, murmuring to the creature in the old language. you only picked up bits and pieces of his words, all incomprehensible to you, the rest drowned out by another heavy blast of thunder. a puckered red scar ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear, a festering wound that gave him a perpetual half-smile. despite all of it, he was still beautiful. kim beauty never diminished; even the severity of his angles, of his tight bun and his scar, gave him an inhuman beauty that would leave anyone breathless. it was a predatory beauty, you knew, meant to draw you in as predator does with its prey, yet you could not avert your gaze.

your heart stilled as he slid off his dragon's back, his white shirt billowing in the wind, his hand rested on his dragon's head and he murmured something to his dragon. it bowed its head, snarling under its breath, its large eyes unblinking. his movements were languid, impudent as always. your heartbeat stilled when he finally looked up and his scrutinizing gaze locked with yours. droplets of rain began to fall upon you both, a shiver running down your spine.

in that moment, you were four-and-ten again and facing a dragon in the dragonpit. the burn on your arm itched under his heavy gaze.

his dark eyes still danced; a familiar wild fire that consumed everything it touched. your stomach was in knots.

"did you think i would not find you?" hongjoong's voice carried over the wind, echoing as the voice of the gods were said to. "that you could leave so easily?"

you were seven-and-ten again, surrounded by grown men who did nothing to keep you safe and a mad king who threatened you for your father's perceived failings.

"you left me, hongjoong," anger filled your chest. "you promised to stay by my side and keep me safe, but then you left to be by seonghwa's side. you left me, and they tried to kill me."

your scream joined the gusts of wind.

hongjoong stepped closer and closer and you could only watch. his eyes flickered over your face. he said, "seonghwa was never meant to remain by my side. you are."

you blinked, "what did you do to him?"

once, a long, long time ago, you had felt fear for park seonghwa, as you did for yourself.

hongjoong shrugged, waved a hand nonchalantly. "i left him somewhere safe."

you were twenty again, and terrified of the man before you and what would become of you. he left seonghwa too. he tames pretty things and then he leaves them caged away to wither or to die or to have their cages broken into by someone else.

hongjoong reached up then, and you'd only then realized he was close enough to touch you. and touch you, he did.

his fingertips fluttered over your cheek, following the line of your jaw. your heart skipped a beat. you said, "why are you here?"

"i shall return to king's landing and take back the throne from those...those traitors," his eyes narrowed.

"those traitors were once your brothers," you said. hongjoong's thumb brushed along your skin, to the edge of your lip, and it lingered there. his eyes flickered over your face, as if he were committing your face to memory.

"we are no longer kids, y/n." he murmured, "i don't need them."

but his voice cracked at the last word, and the fire in his eyes dimmed.

he said, "but i need you."

you were something-and-twenty again, and you might have loved him.

"i don't need you," you said, pushing his hand from your face. the rain grew heavier, colder.

"i loved you, y/n."

he'd never said it before.

your fingers trembled, even as you observed hongjoong for a long moment. his blonde hair stuck to his face, and his scars were bright against his skin. his eyes were wild, desperate almost. he'd lost everything, and only then did he return to find you. only then.

you shook your head, "no, you didn't."

he only ever wanted you to rely on him. to need you, to control you. perhaps he loved you once, in his own way, but it was not the kind of love you'd ever needed or wanted or could accept.

hongjoong's jaw clenched. he looked up at the clouds, and rain dripped down his face. a softer part of you might have imagined that he shed tears then. but it was just the rain.

"i tried to," hongjoong said.

then he grabbed you by the jaw, his grip rough, painful. you gasped as he lifted you from your feet, as his grip tightened and you could not breathe.

his eyes were black with wild fire and indifference and something else, and you struggled in his grip. you thought then, that you could just give up, let him win, let him take the strength of the sun from you as he meant to when you were four-and-ten and you first spoke out of turn to him.

or you could fight back.

you could let the rage that had filled you since you stepped onto the shores of king's landing fill you to the brim. the rage you felt when you were four-and-ten, and seven-and-ten, and twenty, and something-and twenty. the years only added fuel to a monster in your stomach that was crying to escape a long, long time ago. you were four-and-ten again, not scared of death, and full of rage.

you kicked him, and his grip loosened as he let out a gasp of pain. his grip loosened enough for you to be able to bite the hand gripping your face. he shouted. the shout was drowned out by the wind. you reached inside your boot, pulling a dagger one of the village women had given you ("just in case," she whispered as she slipped it into your pocket) from its depths. you held it in front of you. your hands did not shake. you'd beat him once during sword training. you could do it again.

hongjoong gripped his bleeding hand as he stared at the knife in your hand. his gaze flickered from the knife to your face, back and forth, back and forth.

you said, "you never once thought of anyone but yourself, hongjoong, and now you're alone. no one wants you, and everyone wants to kill you, and it was all because of you. this is all your own undoing."

rage descended upon hongjoong like a wave crashing upon the shore. he lunged at you. you slashed at his lunging hand. you missed. he tackled you. you both tumbled into the ground. rocks dug into your skin. you scratched at him with your nails. he scratched you right back. your grip remained tight on the knife.

he trapped you beneath him, locking both your hands above your head with his

hongjoong's blond hair fell from his bun, tickling your face as he bent over you. his blood smeared your face, your skin.

he bit out, "say it again. i dare you."

"you are your own undoing," you spat.

he reached for the knife in your hand. you bucked. you flipped the two of you over. you landed on top of him, the knife pressed to his throat, one of his hands pressed underneath him, your knee on top of the other.

his eyes were black with rage. he said, "do it."

you hesitated. still, despite everything, you hesitated.

hongjoong laughed. he threw his head back in the dirt and laughed and laughed, and you punched him across the face, but he continued to laugh, his lip bleeding.

he laughed and laughed and he said, "what a pair we are, y/n."

"y/n!" the shout of your name pulled you from the red rage you were seeing. you'd pressed the knife into his throat enough to draw blood, but you could not push it further. you could not kill him, and he lay there beneath you reveling in the fact.

you stood, stepping away from hongjoong. he merely laid there, even as mingi stepped closer, his eyes flickering between you, hongjoong, and his dragon.

hongjoong pushed himself to his feet, covered in blood, and he turned to mingi. you only noticed then that hongjoong had a sword at his hip that he had never drawn. he could have drawn it whenever he wanted, yet it remained sheathed, just as dragon remained forgotten.

you did not want to think of whether he could not do it either. you did not want to believe it a possibility with him, not when he had his hands around your throat with the intention to kill just a few moments ago.

mingi drew his sword, his brows furrowed as he spoke, "what is going on, hongjoong?"

hongjoong's hand went to the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. his eyes flickered to you, before he rested his gaze on mingi. he said, "i am going to reclaim the throne."

mingi did not falter, did not respond.

hongjoong continued, "i will die."

mingi did not falter.

hongjoong nodded, before he turned away, blood dripping from his hand wound as he made his way to his dragon.

the two of you watched as he walked away. as he pulled himself up on his dragon, and ascended into the grey clouds.

he walked away, as he always did.

as soon as his dragon disappeared, mingi dropped his sword and turned to you. the clatter of steel against rocks and dirt felt as loud as thunder.

mingi knelt before you. only then did you realize you'd sunk to your knees.

mingi asked, "can i touch you?"

you nodded, a stilted movement.

he reached for the knife you still gripped, prying it from your hands, and then he gently wrapped his arms around your form.

you said, "he will die."

"yes."

"i am sorry."

"why?"

"he was your family."

"he was supposed to be yours, too, y/n."

you sobbed into mingi's shoulder, and he shook with his own sobs, and you knew that a part of you would die alongside hongjoong when he landed in king's landing. you'd both swore an oath, and despite everything, you almost loved him once.

[jaeyunbaeun]

[5] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "we both know you have gone far beyond that point."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: 5/6 - 15k, i added another part because i cannot stand how much i need to scroll on this to edit so i've split it up accordingly - i know i'm sooo sorry for the delay. this fic WILL be done by the end of this year. setting-typical violence/executions, abusive dynamics, power dynamics, cheating, implied victim blaming (from y/n :/), this part is very word/dialogue-heavy rather than action-oriented but y/n is a rookie player in the games unfortunately.

-

you wake to an empty bed. you should not have expected anything more, yet your heart stilled in your chest as your fingers brushed through the empty space.

you'd done it to keep hongjoong from straying too far. that was what you told yourself as you lied spread on the too-big bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling tiles. that's what you told yourself to calm the tightness in your chest, and the soreness of your limbs, and the racing thoughts. that was what -

"you are awake."

you'd startled at hongjoong's voice. it was rough around the edges from sleep. you sat up, eyes fixed on hongjoong. he leaned against the door to the washroom, dressed in his robes for the day.

you drew the sheets closer, and you said, "you are still here."

a furrow formed between hongjoong's brows. he said, "i am called to court, but i did not think you would appreciate waking to an empty bed."

"no, i suppose i would not have." you could not fathom that hongjoong was capable of...thoughtfulness. yeosang had said as much, but who were you to believe him.

hongjoong laughed, and the sound burrowed right in your chest. you needed a bath.

"i drew you a bath," hongjoong said, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to the bed as he gestured to the bathing chambers. "i dismissed the servants, so as not to wake you, but i wanted to see you off before my appointments. i hope..."

you watched him falter over his words. hongjoong has never faltered. seeing him this way, somehow it was more intimate than the night before. somehow, his softness clawed at your chest. he was capable of it, you now knew, but you wondered, briefly, if it would be conditional. you knew you would always be cursed to wonder such a thing.

hongjoong cleared his throat, "i hope you will join me for lunch?"

you should have said no, but you'd long abandoned the should-haves.

you said, "i will."

hongjoong's smile was a sweet thing as he nodded in sheer satisfaction.

he left, and you slipped from the bed and into the empty bathing chambers. steam billowed from the bathtub, but you saw clearly that hongjoong had hung your robes - kim black and red - in plain view. it had been many moons since you wore your house's red and orange, yet the sight of kim red and black felt...final.

you sunk into the searing bathwater, sighing at the relief to your aching muscles, and you sunk until you could barely breathe with the steam and oils wafting around you. you tucked your knees close, and the heat reminded you of summer days in sunspear. of your brothers and your home and dorne red and orange. of the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the merchants shouting on every corner, and the giggles as you and wooyoung would weave through the crowds while yunho followed quickly behind - never so reckless, so undignified, as the two of you even when he was young. the reminders, however, were as hazy as the steam around you. and when you opened your eyes, the black and red robes were clear as day.

you could not find it in you to despise the colors as you once would have.

you told yourself you laid with hongjoong so he would not stray, but your heart was the one straying. your memories were the ones turning hazy and distant. cold even, you could dare say. in the haze of memories and steam, alone in a too-big room, you could admit that you might like hongjoong. more than you should have.

the thought made your eyes water. hongjoong gave you a crumb of decency and the touch you've craved since you stepped foot off your father's boat, and now you were fond of him? were you truly so easily pliable? were you truly so lonely? would you abandon your dornish roots so easily? your resolve?

you sighed as you sunk further into the lukewarm bath, eyes fixed on the red and black robes, and you resolved that even if you were any of those things, hongjoong would never know it.

you ignored the small voice in your head that whispered that he already did know.

~.~.~.~.~

should have, should have, should have.

you entered the dining hall with your stomach in knots, nerves settling there you had never felt before. you chalked it up to hunger.

hongjoong sat at the head of the table, his white-blond hair gathered into a messy bun, his robes loosened, his sleeves rolled up, his elbow propped up against the table as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand. he was enraptured in the person next to him.

park seonghwa.

you should have known.

should have, should have, should have.

park seonghwa sat to his left, and choi jongho to his right. san sat next to jongho, yeosang across from him. mingi sat rigid next to san. the only spot left was next to yeosang, across from mingi, and in full view of hongjoong at the head of the table as he leaned close to hear seonghwa speak.

your heart clenched, in worry and spite and the slightest hint of anger, towards who you were unsure. but you decided right then you were in fact only hungry. the knots were born of hunger. not nerves, never nerves, and certainly not for a kim. never for hongjoong, no no no -

hongjoong raised his eyes as the servants announced your presence. jongho and san, yeosang and mingi, park seonghwa, they all stood as you made your way to the empty seat. it was a show respect you were still not quite used to. hongjoong, however, remained seated, his head tilted to the side like a cat as he watched you take a seat. a sly grin tugged at the corner of his lips, his fingertips thrumming on the arm of his chair.

the small gesture left a burning ache in the pit of your stomach.

you should not have expected anything more.

should have, should not have, should have, should not have.

park seonghwa was seated to hongjoong's left, and as soon as the conversation returned, hongjoong's attention seemed to return to the pretty man next to him. park seonghwa in his dark cloak, and his dark hair, and a coldness about him that reminded you of everything you were not.

you should not have paid him mind.

yet, here you were.

jongho spoke of his uneventful visit, collecting taxes on behalf of hongjoong and the crown. he mentioned that he'd spent most of his time in king's landing recovering from his long journey. you'd frowned, glancing sideways at san. san met your gaze - a surprise since he did not do so often - and his brows were furrowed, his eyes almost...pitiful.

it sparked something inside you. you did not wish to be pitied. no, no, no.

your eyes flickered to hongjoong. his grin was a wide thing, his head too close to park seonghwa's. hongjoong's chin rested on his ring-adorned fingers, and his smirk lifted at whatever seonghwa murmured his way. seonghwa's dark eyes glittered like still water under moonlight, and that spark only grew.

your gaze flit between his friends. from jongho speaking to mingi and san. to yeosang inserting commentary here and there. every now and then someone would laugh. park seonghwa would snicker. jongho would shove at mingi's shoulder, his armor clattering, frowning ever-so-often in seonghwa and hongjoong's direction. yeosang would make a pointed remark, and san would raise a brow in utter amusement. hongjoong would watch them whenever his attention was pulled away from park seonghwa, and the adoration in his eyes - you'd never seen that before. not even the night before, when he'd cupped your face in his palms.

there was a fire in the pit of your stomach that had been lit many many many moons ago. a monster that lived there that you coaxed all those sleepless nights and restless mornings. it reared its head, roared something wicked, and the heaviness in your heart only grew tenfold. here you sat, adorned in red and black, knowing you'd given hongjoong what he wanted, perhaps in desperation or perhaps for other reasons, and you'd allowed yourself to become something you never wanted to be, only to sit at the head of the table as an outsider still. always made to remain a stranger peering on.

~.~.~.~.~

in the courtyard, you found park seonghwa.

you knew you'd find him there, as he had told hongjoong as much, whispered it sweetly, his eyes glittering, and waved everyone off before striding out the dining hall. when hongjoong dismissed everyone else, you'd merely bowed at hongjoong. he smiled at you, and the smile was a soft thing, kind almost, as he touched your arm.

"i shall see you for supper."

it felt more like a demand than anything.

but he left before you could respond, a flourish of robes and blond hair, beckoning for jongho and san to join his side, yeosang and mingi in tow as they reassumed their positions as kingsguard. you were left alone once more, watching them go.

you meant to return to your chambers, or go to the library.

instead, you'd headed to the courtyard.

park seonghwa sat on the very same bench you and san had your last tearful moments, and the memory only fed the growing beast that lived within you.

even under the sweltering sun of king's landing, seonghwa remained unwavering, cold. pretty. you understood then, why hongjoong wanted such a creature. you always knew he had an affinity for the unattainable. you'd feared for seonghwa, when you first caught hongjoong's distraction. you still feared for him. despite everything. you feared for what hongjoong meant to do with someone who looked so delicate, but, you feared what would become of you more.

that fear, you knew, would make you wicked, and to think after all these years, you'd fell to that fear at long last.

you did not fear the gods, or death, or the prince of the seven kingdoms. you feared what was to become of you. you feared that you would be damned to the same fate as the mad king's queen. you feared you liked someone who cared for another, and you would be punished for it. you feared you would become worse than you already were.

you feared the power park seonghwa could one day hold over your head, like a guillotine.

"surely my liege would like to take a seat?" seonghwa voice was soft, gentle almost, but his dark eyes flit to you, unyielding unlike his demeanor.

the beast at the pit of your stomach thrashed.

you stepped away from the shadows of the flower bushes, but you did not take a seat. you merely stood an arm's length from the bench, your gaze set upon seonghwa. he tilted his head up to peer at you, pieces of his dark hair obscured his sparkling eyes. he looked at you with a curiosity you could only compare to that of a toddler catching sight of the mundane parts of the world for the first time. pretty eyes that could capture anyone.

you were not jealous, but you were the future sovereign of the seven kingdoms. you would be delegated to nothing else, and you would be damned if you allowed park seonghwa to be the one to yield any power over you. if anyone were to condemn you to your death, it would be prince hongjoong or yourself. not this pretty, naive, foolish northerner.

"'liege'?" you frowned, repeating your old title. "surely you have not forgotten your place here, lord seonghwa?"

seonghwa's brows raised. you held his gaze. where you expected amusement, as you would have received in return from the likes of hongjoong or yeosang, you received a small nod as seonghwa rose to his feet, rounding the bench.

you held your gaze, feet planted, watched as he stood in front of you.

seonghwa bowed, and it was no half-bow made to mock you, no. it was full and respectful and honorable. you'd heard of the northern honor, even back in sunspear, but to face it in such circumstances? it boiled your blood in ways you could not articulate.

you watched as seonghwa straightened, holding your gaze all the while, and said, tone steady, respectful, "forgive me, your grace."

"have you?" you said, ignoring his apology, dropping all pretext. perhaps, you meant to intimidate the man, but you could tell he would not allow it. that fed the ugly beast inside you more than you'd cared to admit.

lord seonghwa's brows furrowed, "i do not understand, your grace?"

"have you forgotten your place?"

seonghwa's frown deepened, "i have no place here."

were you someone else, or truly a product of king's landing, you may have continued in this riddled conversation. but you could not.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "do not insult me." you said, "i am not a fool, and i should hope that neither are you. we both know why i am here, so let's push pleasantries and riddles aside."

seonghwa stared at you, an intense look that seemed to bore straight through you.

"and here i believed you did not care much for him," seonghwa's voice was musical, despite his words.

"i don't care for anyone," you said through clenched teeth, "but my place is at hongjoong's side. you must be out of your mind if you ever believed i would not care about that."

"and i said i have no place here," seonghwa said, "winterfell is my home."

"yet you are here," you stepped towards him, lowering your voice, "you let him into your bed."

"do you think i could have denied him?" seonghwa's words were quick. he gritted his teeth, "that i could ever deny a prince?"

that brought you pause.

seonghwa's eyes held something there, something you'd seen in your own reflection after you'd met with the king that first night. something you'd seen in your own reflection in steaming bathwater just this morning. it was a look that curled under your skin, that would not leave you. it would live with you, you knew, if you did not acknowledge it, understand it.

your heart ached for him, the way it had when you'd seen hongjoong first lay eyes on seonghwa. the way it had when hongjoong told you of the first time he used his dragon's fire on a little girl who had suffered at the hands of his father.

but you played the game for too long in this godsforsakened city to let yourself falter, despite the tightness in your chest, despite every bit of your conscience clawing at you to withdraw, to hold space for empathy. you bit out, "yes, you could have. he only beds willing participants, does he not?"

you would never forget his face then as he nodded at your question.

lord seonghwa's dark eyes flashed under the midday sun. cold steel against starless night sky. "i often wondered what you were like. hongjoong spoke of you sometimes...afterwards. your fury and your beauty. your sharp tongue." he said, "he spoke highly of you."

"you don't think i deserve it?" you asked, with another roll of your eyes.

"no, i do. i think you deserve him," seonghwa spoke each syllable with the precision of a blade against flesh. "you were made for each other."

the beast inside you roared. whether it was in glee or anger you had no clue.

you crossed your arms over your chest and said, "forget your place again, and i shall have you thrown in the dragon's pit. then, " you stepped closer, until you were mere inches from seonghwa's face, "i will have your ravaged body hung from the walls of king's landing for all to see. do you understand?"

"of course," seonghwa bowed his head, though his dark eyes remained narrowed. his pause was too long, your title venomous, "your grace."

you spun on your heels, marching away.

mingi stood at the entrance to the garden, straightening when he met your gaze. his eyes softened. he looked as at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you did was tear it down. all you did was allow seonghwa to haunt you, despite everything. your heart slammed against your ribs.

seonghwa was right, and that was the worst part. you were made for each other, you and hongjoong, and you did not know if you'd be able to reconcile with the fact no matter how long you lived.

~.~.~.~.~

father is ill. wooyoung believes it to be poison. y/n, i think this it. i don't think he'll recover from this.

you watched the letter crumble and curl into itself in the fire, your heart in your throat.

mingi cleared his throat.

you turned, and he fiddled with his fingers for a moment, before he stepped closer. his armor clinked lightly in the quiet library.

"is it bad news?" his deep voice was quiet. too kind for what you've been doing to him.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, merely nodding. mingi reached then, and you could catch every moment of hesitation in his movements. every emotion that fought for a place in his expression. he reached out and he placed a hand on your cheek. you froze.

not out of want or fear, but because it was clear as day from the way his gaze remained so soft, and his touch softer, from the grim set of his lips, that mingi did not just have a small liking for you. he adored you. and he was willing to touch you, despite your standing, despite his friendship with hongjoong, and you'd encouraged it for your own gain, and it has accumulated into this moment, and you should have stopped him in his tracks.

but yunho's jagged writing remained etched at the forefront of your thoughts. your father was dying, yunho would no doubt take his place, the change of hand would mean instability, and you did not know how the mad king would respond. you needed this still. you needed mingi's loyalty still, despite the means. you needed mingi to remain useful to you.

you closed your eyes when he fully pressed his warm, calloused palm to your cheek, allowing yourself to melt into his touch long enough to hear his breath stutter.

mingi said, face flushed, "i am sorry, y/n."

before you could respond, someone cleared their throat.

you both jumped apart.

maester haechan stood at the foot of the first row of bookshelves, fingers clutched around his maester chains, his eyes wide. the shock quickly morphed into a mischievous glint.

"your grace," he said, voice low and steady, mocking. even his bow held a mocking flourish. maester haechan smiled wide, "i apologize for the interruption. i will return later."

mingi blinked. your heart raced.

~.~.~.~.~

"oh sweet thing," yeosang met your gaze with a cat-like curiosity. "you are quite the mess."

you'd glared at him. his eyes flit to your hands, likely to the skin around your nails you'd picked at. you dropped them to your sides, covering them with your robes.

you were sat in the practice yard, wooden sword in your lap. you had come here to clear your mind with mindless sword swinging and fresh air, but this was king's landing. fresh air never existed, and you were terrible at the sword. you ended up pacing the training grounds before your feet had grown weary and you sat with your back against the brick wall at the far side of the grounds. when hidden from the courtyard doors and windows like this, you felt less confined by the red keep. you could also hide from your septa as she had made it quite clear to you that you were not meant to practice the sword any longer, as the spouse to the heir, and you did not care to hear her nag you on top of everything else.

yeosang was your designated kingsguard today, and you were grateful, despite the way yeosang's gaze bore into you, that yeosang before you meant you would not have to see mingi. yeosang remained quiet as you smacked at the training post with uncoordinated blows before you began pacing. you'd expected a sly comment, but he only stood guard and left you in silence, though his eyes remained fixed on your every movement.

it was infinitely better than having to face mingi. you hadn't seen mingi since the incident in the library. hongjoong had spent the night elsewhere, and you'd buried away the jealous monster inside you for the night. it was subdued anyway, worried more for what maester haechan would say, and, more importantly, to whom. worried hongjoong stayed away because he knew. your mind wandered too often to the essence of nightshade you still carried. it remained in the deepest crevices of your chambers, where you knew hongjoong, the servants, no one really, would bother to look. you'd considered inviting maester haechan for a civil discussion and pouring the essence into his wine. you'd dreamt of what it would look like. maester haechan's choked sounds. his lifeless eyes. the way you'd call for the royal doctors, bewildered. you'd imagined it all, and had not slept that night because of it.

besides, maester haechan was no fool. he'd made sure to stay out of your sight ever since, busying himself in mundane tasks far from your chambers.

yeosang stood beside where you sat, leaning heavily against the brick wall you were pressed against. you glanced up at him, and he met your gaze, peering down at you over his nose, and you felt as if he could read every thought running through your head. he opened his mouth.

"shut up," you mumbled, cutting him off.

yeosang laughed, the sound a musical thing.

you scowled up at him, and you said, "do you enjoy watching me suffer, ser yeosang?"

"very much so, your grace," yeosang said.

you frowned. "why do you hate me so?"

"hate is a strong word," yeosang grinned, but it was not amused. his eyes no longer held his usual twinkle of mischief. his smile was a sharp thing, a weapon in and of itself, that left your stomach turning. "as a matter of fact, a more apt description for my opinion of you would be something just a step below hatred."

you'd blinked up at him, craning your neck, head resting on the brick wall. yeosang was framed by the cloudy skies of king's landing, an apt backdrop for such a frightfully stoic sight. the hairs at the back of your neck stood at end in the silence. the atmosphere had taken a turn for something more serious. something almost sinister. frankly, you were taken aback by his honesty.

"i warned you, did i not?" yeosang spoke suddenly, and despite his quiet musical voice, and the casual stance he took, leaned heavily against the brick wall, his words draped over your shoulders like the fur cloaks from the north, heavy. the weight of the world. "to tie up your loose ends?"

you dragged a hand over your face. "i do not wish to hear you speak in pretty riddles any longer, kang. if you have something to say, then speak your mind. i am tired of your questions."

yeosang knelt then, the sudden movement making his armor clink and clang all around you. he squatted before you, his eyes level with yours, his elbows resting on his spread knees. yeosang's expression was cold and hard. his eyes grew dark. he looked...furious. you could not pinpoint why he would be. you were fascinated by the fury though - you'd never expected kang yeosang to show you such an emotion. he'd only come close once before, when you'd mentioned his mother on your name day long, long ago. his fury was genuine. alive. it was searing summer heat, and the burn of the sun against your scalp, your skin, and it was fascinating to face such a thing once more, after so long without it. especially from the likes of kang yeosang.

his musical voice remained low, pretty still, a juxtaposition to the way he set his unwavering fury upon you.

he spoke each word with a precision only a kang was capable of, "i know what you've done to mingi."

you'd blinked at him, breaking away from his heavy gaze. you started, "i do not -"

"look at me."

you'd whipped your head to the side, stomach curling at his commanding tone, bewildered by his audacity. anger sprung to the forefront of your mind, "excuse me?"

yeosang leaned close, and his gaze flit down your face for a moment, lingering here and there, on your eyes, nose, lips, before he met your gaze once more with a more controlled fury. you hoped, for his sake, it was because he realized his mistake.

he said, "song mingi does not deserve to be used as pawn. this is something we've all agreed upon. me, hongjoong, san, even jongho. he is not a part of this, because he is kind, and he is better than the rest of us. i should have accounted for the fact that you'd spent the better part of your time bewitching mingi and playing him as you saw fit."

"i have done no such thing."

"oh," yeosang's breathy laugh was a warm whisper against your cheek, "you are a terrible liar."

the world stilled. he looked at you as if he was waiting for a denial, waiting for you to dig your grave deeper. confirm a thought that lingered in his expression, one you could not decipher. however, you knew it would not work. you knew as well as he did what you had done, and you knew you could not fool kang yeosang. you did not wish to, at the moment, for some reason.

"you said the same of me once." you whispered, "that you'd all agreed i was too sweet to be a player in your games."

before your wedding, yeosang had escorted you back to your chambers after meeting with the queen and said those exact words to you with a sly grin on his face. they held counsel and decided the fates of the wards of the red keep as they saw fit, it seemed, and the thought made your fingers curl into fists at your side.

you asked, "what changed?"

yeosang shrugged, his voice soft as velvet, yet sharp as a sword, "perhaps everyone realized they were wrong about you. you're not sweet. not with the way you've wrapped mingi around your pretty fingers."

you'd flushed at yeosang's pointed drawl. you did not deny it this time either. you said, "and you all haven't done the same?"

yeosang's eyes darkened, "we are not using him."

you held his gaze, but something inside you trembled as you said, "will you tell him, then?"

your voice sounded small, even to your own years, and you despised yourself for it. you wanted to remain nonchalant.

"mingi? or do you mean..." yeosang's eyes narrowed, "hongjoong?"

two people now, two possible culprits, possessed valuable information over your head. two people could speak to hongjoong. would he believe a lowly maester of a small library? perhaps not. but yeosang? kang yeosang? hongjoong would believe yeosang, and it was a terror-filled thought. you dread mingi knowing what you were doing to him, but somehow hongjoong discovering your plans was...worse.

yeosang let out a breathy laugh once more as he said, "i do not hate you that much, y/n."

you are reminded, once more, of how aware hongjoong's closest circle was of his temperament. yet they did nothing. they would always do nothing. they were the same as him, then, were they not?

yeosang sat fully on the ground then, no longer hovering over you, but your heart still slammed against your ribs as if he remained a looming presence. yeosang's armor clinked and scratched against the brick wall, and the sound echoed between you both.

"do you think he will...?" you trailed off, frowning. you did not know what hongjoong would do, frankly. he'd spoken so carefully to you, and held you as if you were the most delicate thing to ever grace this world, and he drew baths for you, and sometimes he pressed a hand to your elbow or your back when nerves crept up your spine at dinners with his father, sometimes he thread his fingers through yours in public appearances. sometimes, he drew baths for you before he left for his schedules. yet he still disappeared some evenings. he still ignored you at dinners. you still did not know how he would react.

you still did not know prince hongjoong.

"i am not sure," yeosang shook his head. "prince hongjoong cares deeply for mingi."

he cared deeply for everyone but you, it seemed. you pressed your palms to your eyes then, dragging your hair out of your face. you breathed, "i care for mingi too."

"oh, do you?" the sarcasm in his voice was rough.

"i never wanted to -" you met his gaze, truly meaning every word, "i don't want to hurt him."

yeosang's dark eyes flickered over your face, before he nodded to himself and stood, brushing the dirt from his pants and his armor. he sighed, "i think we both know you have gone far beyond that point, sweet thing."

~.~.~.~.~

you were shocked to see hongjoong sat on your bed, his shirt unbuttoned, and his neck craned, as he leaned back on his hands and stared up at the ceiling, his legs spread. his chest rose and fell at a slow rhythm. you could not help but watch, frozen at the entryway, as he rolled his head to the side and met your gaze, his blonde hair falling from his bun and into his eyes. his throat bobbed as his gaze fell upon you, his expression unreadable.

this was, you realized, the first time you'd both been alone with each other since that night. yes, he called his servants to draw baths for you and only left when you woke to tell you of the fact. yes, he pressed gentle touches to your back, your arm, throughout the day during royal engagements, but neither of you had truly spoken to each other.

he'd either spend the night elsewhere, or he'd enter your chambers late at night smelling of alcohol and incense and someone else as he used to, and you'd both pretend to sleep so as not to speak to the other.

"what are you doing?" you spoke, stepping fully into your chambers. your voice rang too loud between you both.

hongjoong's eyes followed you, dark and heavy and watchful, his open posture remaining a calm juxtaposition to his expression. still, you noticed his fingers clench around the sheets - your sheets.

he drawled, "relax, my love."

you flinched at the term of endearment.

hongjoong laughed, a breathy thing, as he threw his head back.

you advanced on him then, though you were unsure why. perhaps it was the circumstances - yeosang's words and knowing maester haechan could open his mouth and yunho's words lingering over your head, everything a makeshift guillotine that could come down at any moment. your footsteps bounced off the walls as you stomped towards him.

he merely craned his neck as you came closer, eyes fixed on you, relaxed facade still so, so present.

"do not," you stopped in front of his spread legs, frowning down at him, "do not tell me what to do."

he tilted his head, amusement dripping from his lopsided smile, blonde hair a soft gold in the dim candlelight. he said, "you're quite wound up, my love. i am merely wondering why."

"stop calling me that." you gritted your teeth, "and get off my bed."

hongjoong's chuckle was low. he looked up at you through fallen strands of blonde hair, "make me. my. love."

your heart pounded against your ribs, but the dread at the pit of your stomach was worse. the anger, the fact that he hadn't spoken to you candidly since that night, the way things were tumbling all around you and you had no control anymore of anything - it made throw your hands in the air. you wanted so badly to make him shut up, to wrap your fingers around his throat. maybe kill him?

the thought was blasphemous, and when you met hongjoong's gaze, you felt as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. your breath grew tight, heavy, in your chest. it was guilt and want and anger and jealousy. there was always jealousy. you could admit that here, to yourself, in the comforts of your chambers.

you dragged your hands through your hair, and under hongjoong's scrutinizing gaze you felt exposed. vulnerable.

you hated it.

warm, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist. you realized you were shaking. hongjoong pulled you down. it was a light tug, and you could have counteracted it, but you allowed it. you allowed it.

you hated that too.

you landed on the mattress and immediately shoved him away. he let you.

you hated that the most.

you said, "why are you here? why are you - why won't you - why did you -"

why are you here? why won't you leave me alone? why did you touch me? why did i develop feelings for you? why did he return to seonghwa's bed? you could not allow yourself to say any of those words aloud because they held too much truth, too much power.

you were breathing heavily, each intake of breath a stabbing wound, and you pressed your palm to your mouth so as to muffle the sound.

he reached out once more. you smacked his hand away. your voice was a rough whisper, the words difficult to expel, as you repeated, "why are you here?"

"i was worried," he spoke softly, and his gaze held a softness in them that you do not see often.

you did not hate it as much as you should have.

"i am not yours to visit as you please when you grow bored," you said, "now leave me be."

he reached for you once more, and you scooted away from his touch.

hongjoong said, "i thought you were not afraid of me."

"i am not," you said.

you were. you were afraid that everything was crashing down around you, and hongjoong would know it soon. you were terrified of what he would do to you. or worse, if he didn't do a thing and let you live with it.

and, of course, he knew you were lying. his eyes grew so gentle then, you wondered briefly if you were asleep, dreaming this hongjoong up from the deepest recesses of your mind.

"i want to believe you so badly, y/n," he said.

"why are you here?" you repeated. you meant it in many, many ways. why did he return to your chambers? why did he look at you as if he cared for you? why was he here, in your thoughts, in your heart? how did he get there? you grit your teeth, and said, with as much venom as you could, "why are you here when you won't stay?"

it was the closest to the truth you could allow yourself to get with hongjoong. it was all you could allow yourself, without feeling absolutely powerless in his presence.

he reached out.

this time you let him.

he pressed his thumb to your cheekbone, dragging it across your thumb. it was a featherlight touch. "i am not meant to stay anywhere for too long," he said quietly, "but know that you are mine, and i am yours. do not doubt that, y/n."

"i do not want to be yours."

"but you want me to be yours?"

you didn't answer. you pressed your knees closer.

hongjoong laughed as he cupped your cheek, the rings on his fingers cold ice against your skin, "you want me to stay?"

you looked away.

his fingers remained your skin, your hair, along your jaw. his thumb brushed over your lips. he said, "you want me to hold you?"

his cold ring pressed roughly into the skin under your jaw, "you want me to kiss you and tell you i love you?"

he twirled a strand of hair around his fingers, before he tugged at it. your eyes flit to his, and hongjoong kept his dark gaze fixed on you. "you want me to make you feel safe?"

your heart slammed against your chest, the sharp painful breaths returning. hongjoong's other hand sat on your arm, his thumb brushing the burn scar there. it felt like a trap, like hongjoong was one condescending question away from telling you he knew of everything you had done, and he would make you pay for it.

you said, "i want you to be genuine with me."

"my love," hongjoong laughed, and he leaned so close you could count his eyelashes. his blonde hair tickled your cheek as he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. his eyes held a shine to them, manic in its amusement, "i have been nothing but genuine with you. i always have been."

the thought was harrowing. it broke something in you.

tears sprung to your eyes then, and you hated yourself for it. you hated it when hongjoong cooed and pulled you closer, pressing your face to the crook of his neck. you struggled against his grip for a moment, until he murmured, "i've got you, darling."

you hated that you wrapped your arms around him and let him hold you. that you clung to him, and you were reminded of how you could count on one hand how often you were held this way since you came to the red keep.

you hated that you allowed yourself to relax as he stroked your back. his touch dragged down your spine, and he held you as if you were a fragile as the flowers in the courtyards, as if you were not harboring a monster inside of you. his fingers gathered in your hair, and his rings were cold against your skin, but when you looked up at him, he smiled down at you, his expression a harmonious mixture of soft and sweet and dark. a chill ran down your spine, even as your heart skipped. hongjoong whispered, "come here."

he held his arms out as he scooted back to the head of the bed, your fingers entangled in his. you listened.

you wiped at your eyes with the heels of your hands, and he merely hummed don't as he pulled you towards him, as you fell back into his chest.

~.~.~.~.~

"i drew you a bath," hongjoong murmured.

you wanted to say more to him. you wanted him to know that your moment of vulnerability did not stem from him. it was not for him. it would not happen again.

you wanted to say more.

but you merely rolled out of bed, leaving him still sprawled in your sheets, and you entered the bathroom.

kim black and red draped over the hook as you entered. the bath steam made the room a blur. you slipped off your clothes, and entered the bath. all you could see was kim black and red, and this distinct feeling that you'd failed. you'd done something. everything was crumbling.

a light knock had you jolt in the tub. you looked over, sinking into the bathwater when you saw hongjoong leaning against the entryway to the bath, his blond hair pulled pack into a tight bun.

he said, "the king has called for a feast. he seems in a good mood."

that explained the kim robes.

the sound of the dripping faucet, and the heat of the steam, filled the silence. you settled lower into the water, until heat engulfed you up to your neck. hongjoong merely watched you through the steam. your stomach flipped at the feeling of his eyes on you.

finally, he said, "i will stay."

you wanted to say, no you will not.

instead, you said, "okay."

~.~.~.~.~

yeosang's brows were furrowed when you stepped into the hall. mingi stood by his side, his mouth pressed into a frown. it seemed as if they've stopped speaking as soon as you arrived. the beat of silence was broken when hongjoong pushed himself from his position leaning against the wall, extending a ring-adorned hand to you. his black and red robes were quite extravagant, his blonde hair pulled into a neat bun. he looked the opposite of how he did the night before. it reminded you of how undignified you had been.

you took his hand.

the walk to the feasting hall was quiet, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. the king often called upon the red keep to attend extravagant feasts whenever he was in a good mood. often those good moods were followed by jousting tourneys or a public execution by dragonfire in the courtyard. it often depended on the king's mad whims.

the king rose when you were both announced, raising his wine glass. his nails were claw-like, the queen was nowhere in sight, and the nobles lining the tables looked wary.

"alas, my beloved son is here with his lovely spouse. come, come, take a seat. today is a day of celebration!"

he raised his wine to the nobles of the red keep. the king's counsel - lord kang, lord choi, and lord song - stood to the king's right side as hongjoong took a stand at the king's left and you next to hongjoong.

the king pat hongjoong's back as he called, "here is a toast to new and better beginnings for not only the kingdom of dorne, but to the seven kingdoms."

you'd blinked at that, surprised. you felt hongjoong's fingers tighten around yours. you looked to him, and his eyes seemed stern, careful. he shook his head slightly.

"come now, raise your glasses!" the king turned his wine glass to lord kang, and they clinked glasses, drinking together. lord kang smiled brightly. it reminded you of yeosang's smiles.

"hongjoong, my son!"

hongjoong raised his glass.

the king turned to you. your heart dropped at the way his eyes fixed upon you. he said, "come now, my child. a toast to your father is in order."

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, yunho's words of poison and sickness jumping to the forefront of your mind. no, you thought.

no, no, no -

"let us toast to our dear lord jeong. at long last, he's had the forethought to die." the king called to the crowd, "in his sleep, they say. a rather pathetic death, if i may so myself, but it seems with the dornish lord now at rest, we may move forward in negotiating peace with the new young lord jeong."

you could feel the eyes on you, gauging your reaction, and all you could manage to do was stand there and watch as the red keep toasted, as they celebrated the death of your father. you thought of yunho and wooyoung and your mother, and how you should have been there mourning with them. yet here you were, celebrating his death instead. you did not belong to dorne, not any longer, not like this.

"did you know?"

you looked at hongjoong long and hard, as you both sat at the head table, watching everyone eat and drink.

hongjoong still held your hand as he said, "i found out this morning."

you let him hold your hand still. you were terrified that if he let go, you'd drift away and you would not be able to return.

~.~.~.~.~

a tourney. the king decided to hold a celebratory tourney that afternoon. the chois offered to host, of course.

you needed to meet yeonjun, see if your brothers had sent you any letters. you needed to expel the heavy weight on your chest. you needed to get away.

yet, here you were, attending a tourney, watching as hongjoong defeated opponent, as his father hooted and cheered, and the people seemed to enjoy that their king was in good spirits for once.

your father is dead.

hongjoong knocked a man from his horse so hard, the man's helmet flew across the field. the kingsguard lined the back of the king's stands - he barely made public appearances anymore so it was quite apt that he'd have so many kingsguard around him - and mingi looked at you with worry in his eyes that you could not stand.

your father is dead.

the mountain stood next to mingi, a beast of man that brought fear down your spine. his stringy hair peaked through his helmet. you could swear he met your gaze then. you looked away quickly.

your father is dead, your father is dead, your father is dead.

hongjoong waved his jousting sword in victory, his final opponent slumped over in the corner. dead, you knew.

hongjoong galloped back and forth through the tourney field, taking in the cheers. he stopped, then, not in front of you, but in front of park seonghwa.

the crowd grew hushed as hongjoong laid a crown of winter roses, blue with frost, on seonghwa's lap. it slid from his jousting sword onto seonghwa's lap with a soft rustle that was heard throughout the silent tourney field. your septa had spoken of a tradition in tourneys, one that holds that the victor in a tournament may select anyone present and name them the regent of love and beauty, crowning them with a wreath of flowers and dedicating the their victory to them. never once had hongjoong done such a thing before. until now. until today. until the king called for a tournament to celebrate your father's death.

you sat frozen, even as the king cackled and hooted. even as your gaze flickered to familiar faces. a flicker of fury curled over jongho's face, and you knew then that this was not just a slight to you. hongjoong's actions would hold consequences, and you would suffer for it. it was clear from the way hongjoong grinned, the way he walked so easily, that he did not care what his actions entailed for you. he did not care. your father was dead, and he did not care, and you were not of king's landing, of westeros, either. you belonged nowhere, with no one.

choi san met your gaze, over the crowd, and his smile was a sad, careful thing. it was the first time he'd truly acknowledged you in a long, long time. it was a smile that reminded you of chaste kisses in a hidden courtyard, and hope, and then hope lost.

your father was dead, and you worried that soon you would be too.

~.~.~.~.~

you shoved hongjoong as soon as the door to your chambers clambered shut behind you both.

hongjoong grabbed your wrists - his grip was not tight or painful, but it was firm. a reminder of who you were and who he was to you.

"you're a fool," you bit out. you shook his hands off your wrists and gestured beyond him, to the red keep. "why did you do it?"

hongjoong stepped closer to you, but you stood your ground, eyes locked upon his.

he matched your tone, his eyes dark, his jaw tight, and he said, "mingi, y/n? of all the people at the red keep, you chose mingi?"

you froze then, in horror and guilt, and it felt as though the beast in your stomach was clawing its way to your heart, out your chest, and you let out a staggered breath as you searched his gaze. you wondered how much he knew. you wondered what he would do to you. you would have your answer.

you tried to push him away then, but he crowded your space, until your back hit a wall, your breath leaving you.

"mingi is my brother. he is...he is kind, y/n," hongjoong's eyes held a dark fury he never directed towards you. he clasped his fingers around your jaw, forcing you to look at him. his grip was not painful yet, but it was angry. "you could have ruined him."

"so you care about him?" you scowled, "you come pleading the case for a man who is not even your brother by blood, but what of me? you have made vows to me before the gods? what becomes of me? what of my ruination?"

your voice was shrill as you raised your voice, your shout echoing all around you. hongjoong's grip under your jaw tightened, his rings digging into your skin. it pinched at your skin. this time it hurt.

"i do not care what you do behind closed doors, as i've told you time and time again, but the tourney? park seonghwa?" you spat his name. his fingers squeezed tighter, and your breath caught in your throat, fear and something else, something akin to grief, curling under your skin. "you've condemned me in front of everyone, hongjoong. and even before all this you knew. you knew my father was dead, but you let me face that news on my own."

"i do not owe you anything. not my love nor my sympathies," hongjoong leaned so close, you could feel his breath against your cheek, his dark eyes blown out in madness, in anger, and in the very same guilt you'd seen in him that night. he said, "i am a kim. i owe you nothing."

"kims are not gods," you spat. "without your dragons, you are just like the rest of us. you will bleed red like the rest of us."

he yanked you closer by his grip on your jaw.

"is that a threat?"

"will you kill me if i say yes?"

his gaze flicked over your expression, your defiance, your anger, your fear, and his brows furrowed. he shoved you up against the wall. for a moment, you thought he'd kill you then and there. then he released you, retreating back. you blinked after him.

"leave mingi alone." his voice was controlled and quiet, his simmering anger barely detectable if you hadn't known what to listen for. "remove him from your schemes immediately. i know you have him do your bidding, y/n."

you remained with your back to the wall, your fingers curling around your jaw. you wondered, briefly, if he had left bruises. the thought that hongjoong was so close to knowing of yeonjun and your letters to your brother - it made your heart race harder.

"and if i do not?" you asked, teeth clenched. your other hand brushed over the old burn scar on your arm, squeezing it to find some semblance of control in this situation. hongjoong's eyes tracked the movement, his jaw tightening at your words.

hongjoong's eyes darkened when he met your gaze once more, "then i will do it for you, y/n. you will not like my methods. believe me."

you grit your teeth, but before you could answer, hongjoong turned away with a flurry of royal red and black robes and blond hair.

he left, slamming the door behind him. you slid down the wall holding you up, fingers curling around your jaw.

"fuck," you breathed.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

~.~.~.~.~

you were no stranger to grief. it was an old friend, really, but this time it crept up on you like a predator crept upon prey.

the mad king's trials had become weekly affairs, despite his occasional refusal to appear in public himself. that morning was cold and dreary, and the king sent a messenger in his place.

you sat beside hongjoong in the courtyard, front and center, in place of the king and queen. the whispers prior to the tourney had been quiet ever since hongjoong burned lord lim on your behalf, but it seemed the whispers had returned tenfold since the tourney. you did not expect any less. you doubted hongjoong would burn another important noble alive to preserve your honor when his attention was elsewhere anyway, and you figured everyone else at court believed the same. san, choi jongho, and park seonghwa had left for their homes at daybreak, and you had not heard from irene's little birds as to why they'd all left so quickly. the nobles whispered of your inability to keep the prince happy, of the slight against you at the tourney. they whispered aloud of what would happen next - an affair and your uselessness.

you sat beside hongjoong, ignoring the whispers, watching as guards dragged in a struggling figure. the king's messenger unfurled his scroll, rising to his feet.

the guards tied the struggling figure to the scorched execution post. the messenger called out his crimes, decreed by the king - a traitor to the crown and to westeros - and then the guard pulled the sack from the person's head.

your heart fell, then, to the pit of your stomach at the familiar face.

yeonjun.

it was yeonjun.

in that moment, you heard nothing, your ears ringing as yeonjun's twisted, defiant expression filled your vision. one of the executioners took the stand, green fire jars in his hand, and you could not close your eyes.

yeonjun's defiant eyes, usually so playful and amused, met yours through the crowd. he smiled.

fingers slipped through yours. your ears still rang, and the cheering of the crowd sounded far away as green fire filled your blurred vision.

you pulled away from the scene before you long enough to recognize that hongjoong was holding your hand. he did not look at you, his eyes fixed on the execution, green flames illuminating his dark features.

yeonjun was dead. your sole method of communication with your brothers was dead.

your father was dead.

what would become of you now?

~.~.~.~.~

you gnawed at your bottom lip as you both approached your chambers. the courtyard and yeonjun's burnt flesh was long behind you, but you could not shake it from your head. you knew it was your fault.

it had to be.

all of this - somehow it felt as if you were failing, as if you'd lost the high you were on earlier and everything was crashing around you and you were to blame for it all.

you were no stranger to grief, but as you and hongjoong walked through the empty halls in silence, the smell of burnt flesh still lingering on in your nose, on your clothes, your hair, yeosang leading the way, and mingi walking behind you - hongjoong only allowed mingi to guard you if he was with you, and you hadn't had a moment alone with him since the night maester haechan had walked in on you both - a wave of nausea and dread washed over you.

"he was only a barkeep," your voice was quiet, even to your own ears.

hongjoong glanced briefly in your direction. he said, "a barkeep who committed treason."

he kept walking as you came to a halt.

"a dornish barkeep," your voice bounced off the walls. hongjoong spun to face you, his black robes fluttering around him like tendrils of smoke. yeosang met your gaze over hongjoong's shoulder and shook his head at you. you ignored him. "my father is dead, and now you people are persecuting a dornish barkeep? do you think i am an idiot, hongjoong? when will i end up on that post?"

hongjoong glowered, "was he your lover?"

you blinked, "is that all that matters to you?"

"i know you've gone to visit him and his bar, y/n," hongjoong snapped, his fists clenched at his sides. "i knew for a while, but i thought perhaps your reasons were innocent. then i learned what you've been doing with mingi, and i thought it was mingi. it's hard for me to be angry with mingi. you must have known that though. but then. then i learned you'd started going to that bar alone."

you'd frozen at the mention of mingi, hyperaware that he stood behind you. mingi did not deserve this, you knew. however, the implications in hongjoong's voice, the fact that he could ever dare voice such a thing to you, let alone in front of yeosang and mingi - it fueled the fire that always burned in your chest.

"not too long ago, you burned a lord alive for saying the exact thing you are implicating me of right now, hongjoong."

"because i knew it was not true then. now i am not so sure."

the fire burned at your insides. you wished to scream at him, to tear the look from his face, and douse that in green fire the same way he had allowed his father to murder yeonjun.

"what of your lovers?" you shouted, your voice dragging through the silence. you hadn't raised your voice in so long, your voice grew gravely, harsh, at the volume. your skin crawled as you advanced on him, "what of all the people you've slept with after you swore yourself to me? shall we burn them alive as well, your grace?"

"y/n, lower your voice." hongjoong's voice was so much quieter than yours, but you did not care. the fire had burst from your stomach, and you no longer wished to quiet yourself. you no longer cared.

"fuck you," you spat. "you are a hypocrite, and you cannot stand to see me happy. that is the truth, hongjoong. my father is dead, by your father's hand for all i know, and the very next day you not only humiliated me in front of the the red keep, but you took away the only protection i have had the misfortune to have in this gods-damned place. your kim protection that you forced upon me when you married me. and now - and now you dare accuse me of adultery when you come to our chambers smelling of another more often than not? you were right, hongjoong. you are not like your father. you are much, much worse."

your chest rose and fell, your breathing unsteady. the silence that followed your shouts felt like a heavy fur blanket, warm and suffocating.

you broke the silence first as you said, "you made me believe i could trust you. perhaps i am a fool for ever thinking such a thing, or for willingly letting you into my bed. but now," you gestured around you, your voice barely louder than a whisper, "but now a war is looming, and you do not fucking care what that means for anyone else, do you?"

hongjoong was a collector of sorts, who liked to have the moon and sun and stars, but he did not think of anything beyond that. that was how gods were, were they not? watching from above, collecting, but never quite caring. they only lived to be worshipped. they believed they could not be touched. the kims were closer to gods than they were to men. you were a fool for ever believing his touches and his drawn baths and his late night talks meant anything. his sweet nothings were just that: nothing.

"the war will not touch you," hongjoong said.

he did not deny that it was looming, he did not address anything else you had said. you wondered briefly what your brothers have decided since your father passed. you felt, once more, in the dark.

"is that all you have to say?" you grit out instead.

"you are mine, y/n, and war will never touch what is mine," hongjoong said, his voice quiet, softer than you expected. as he meant to be comforting. a part of you did feel comforted, while a larger part of you felt everything but. "i understand your treasonous words are born of grief. it's made you unreasonable, and i will let that slide tonight."

frustration clawed at your insides. you said, "i hate you."

"i know," hongjoong's eyes flickered away from your face for a moment as he waved his hand. "yeosang, take y/n to my chambers. they need rest. guard the door. mingi, come with me."

hongjoong stepped around you, and you turned to watch him go. mingi met your eyes with something of an apology in his eyes, brows furrowed in worry, shoulders hunched. hongjoong walked on ahead of him, robes trailing behind him.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. you jumped.

"sorry," yeosang apologized withdrawing his touch. you shook your head. your frustration had clawed its way out of you in the form of tears, and you brushed them away angrily.

"do you still believe he is not a bad person?" your voice shook too much. you despised it.

yeosang did not answer, looking away as if to preserve your dignity. for once, you were grateful for it.

after a beat, you composed yourself enough to straighten yourself out, and you asked, "will he hurt mingi?"

"no," yeosang's response was instantaneous.

you nodded, an inkling of relief settling over you at that reassurance. you knew, deep down, he would not, but you could never be too sure with what you knew of hongjoong. you would not live with yourself if mingi ended up on a post because of you. yeosang trailed along beside you as you both headed to your chambers in silence.

your fingers stilled against the door when yeosang said your name. not your grace. not sweet thing. simply, "y/n."

"yes?"

he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. yeosang's brows furrowed with his internal struggle. you watched for only a moment, but after another moment of silence, you merely pushed your door open and shut it in his face.

~.~.~.~.~

shortly after yeonjun's execution, lord kang resigned as hand of the king.

before drawing your morning bath, you overheard the maids whispering that the mad king had laughed himself into a coughing fit when lord kang had announced his resignation in the throne room early that morning. by some miracle, the mad king had not decided the resignation was call for another execution.

hongjoong had not returned after he asked yeosang to escort you back to your chambers. you hadn't slept until early morning anyway, only to awake to the sound of the maids entering your chambers. your servants hadn't drawn a bath for you in a while, you realized then, as you listened to their hushed whispers. hongjoong was always the one to do it, no matter how late he returned. the thought made you want to crawl out of your skin in both anger and a residual type of grief that grew the more you thought of hongjoong or your father or your brothers or your mother or yeonjun or mingi.

in fact, the maids had left mid-morning, and you'd opened your door to find yeosang still standing guard outside of your room.

you'd blinked at yeosang in confusion.

yeosang blinked back at you, expression unreadable.

"you stayed?"

"i am simply following orders, your grace," his voice curled around your title with a hint of amusement you hadn't heard in quite a while. the familiarity was comforting.

you nodded, rolling your eyes at his tone. you meant to shut the door on him then, but the maid's whispers made you pause, turning to yeosang once more, "i heard lord kang resigned?"

"yes, this morning," yeosang said with a nod, his armor clinking loudly.

"why?"

"there are many reasons he is upset," yeosang shrugged, "one of which being that i am no longer eligible to take his place as lord of casterly rock as i have sworn myself to the kingsguard. he is without an heir now."

"but you'd joined the kingsguard a long while back. why bring the matter up now?"

"it seems my father's sights have changed."

"huh," you laughed at his nonchalance, "would you care to share those new sights with me?"

"lord kang is leaving for casterly rock in the evening." a small smile stretched across his pretty features, genuine in a way you have never seen. "that is all i know, your grace."

you doubted that was all he knew, but you'd nodded anyway. yeosang bowed his head, and you shut the door.

~.~.~.~.~

you are confined to your chambers. hongjoong does not say it aloud, even on the nights he returned to your chambers to clamber into his side of the bed, but you were no longer invited to the throne room or to meals with hongjoong. the servants brought you your meals. the kingsguard assigned to your room would block your way out when you tried to go for a walk or to the library, and they'd say, the prince said you must rest. none of them seemed all too apologetic. you would not recognize them most of the time. whenever you'd see the mountain standing guard, looming and heavily-built, terrifying in his presence, you'd merely shut the door without speaking to him. no one truly scared you at the red keep, but the mountain? he brought chills down your spine. why he had not gone with lord kang was beyond you, but perhaps the king did not mind such a terror in his kingsguard.

sometimes your keeper was yeosang, and on those days you'd open your chamber doors and have a short conversation with him.

oftentimes, it was merely you asking what was going on.

yeosang would shrug in response, or give you a cheeky smile and say, the usual without elaboration.

the days were slow and dull, and you spent more time than not leaning against the barred windows and watching the tiny specks of people go about their day, the bustling of king's landing trickling up to your barred window or sprawled on your bed staring at the high ceilings.

you started counting the days. you hadn't counted much in a while - you used to count your name days, but that was a thing of the past.

~.~.~.~.~

"do you plan to keep me here forever?"

you sat in the middle of your bed, watching as hongjoong stepped into the chambers. the mountain was guarding the door today, his large form darkening the doorway, so you'd spent your day ignoring the goosebumps trickling up your spine whenever you looked towards your chamber doors.

hongjoong kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his robes before he turned to you.

he said, "if that is what you need, then yes."

"what does that mean?"

"it does not concern you."

you scowled, "hongjoong."

hongjoong turned then, to really look at you, and there was a softness there in his expression you did not expect as his eyes flickered over your expression. he always did revel in your anger.

"my father has gone past madness, and your presence will only drive him further into the darkness," hongjoong said, finally. "i am keeping you safe."

you had not known this, and the information made your stomach churn. in your chambers, you did not even have access to irene and her little birds, though you did not wish to alert that network to any watching eyes anyway.

you asked, "by locking me away in your chambers?"

"yes."

he responded so quickly. he was so full of righteousness. you buried the urge to grow angrier. instead, you spoke into the quiet silence, trying for softness.

"you could just send me away, you know," you said, "instead of locking me away like this."

hongjoong stiffened, his fingers curling around the back of his chair.

slowly, you pushed yourself from your bed and stepped closer to him, until you were an arms-length from him. you knew he would not agree, yet somehow you felt you could convince him, somehow. or at least ensure that you would not remain imprisoned here, delegated to the same fate as his mother, to yet another cage. you wished he would set you free, for once.

you pressed your hand to the one he had clenched around the back of his chair, his rings cold against your palms. he did not flinch away, and hope flickered in your heart. for a moment, he leaned into your touch, his gaze settling over your eyes, your nose, your lips.

"send me to -" you swallowed, suddenly nervous, "send me away from king's landing. to sunspear, even?"

hongjoong pressed his other hand over your fingers, wrapping his hands around yours. his eyes remained fixed on your interlocked hands.

you spoke hurriedly, your voice quiet so as not to disturb the tension between you both, "it's safe there. my brothers won't hurt me. you can trust them."

hongjoong let go of your hand then, turning to fully face you. his fingers fell entirely from your grasp. the hope you felt was long gone, kindling for the fire in your heart.

he reached up and pressed his fingertips to your cheeks, a gentle, feather-like touch. he brushes his thumb along your jaw as his eyes flickered between yours once more. eyes, nose, lips, dark eyes like scorched earth.

he said, "how do i know that?"

"hongjoong-"

hongjoong cut your off with a shake of his head, "you are not dornish, y/n. not anymore. you are a kim. you are safest here. with me and my dragons."

he left then, shutting the bath door behind him.

~.~.~.~.~

a fortnight passed when you opened the door to check who was your keeper today. the sun had set and your dinner was already delivered by the servants. they'd entered your chambers while you'd been pacing, and you knew they'd whisper you'd gone mad when they left.

yeosang stood at attention by your door.

you asked, "will you be here tomorrow?"

yeosang usually would not answer your bolder questions, but tonight he seemed to take pity on you. an infuriating thought, really, but you'd gone too long alone to care much that people only ever interacted with you due to pity these days. the furrow between yeosang's brows, you've noticed, had become a permanent fixture on his expression. it did not quite suit him. you missed the mischief in his eyes from your younger days.

"not tomorrow." yeosang said, "but the day after."

"i'd love some ale," you said, with a grin you hoped was enticing.

he frowned at you. you dropped your smile.

you said, matching his frown "it's dreadfully boring in here, ser yeosang. i would not ask you otherwise"

"i'm sure it is, sweet thing," yeosang eyed your chambers , his expression growing apprehensive. "fine, i'll bring some."

"really?"

"you are much too excited for something as simple as ale, your grace."

you'd rolled your eyes in response, shutting the door behind in his face.

~.~.~.~.~

you were never meant for passivity. even when you'd first stepped onto the shores of king's landing, you'd been quite proactive in your distaste of westerosi traditions, of hongjoong's comments, of yeosang's prodding, of your septa's nagging.

to think that you were now relegated to such a passive lifestyle, escorted to the godswoods by your septa and your kingsguard keeper once a day just to leave the confines of your chambers, your meals brought to you by the servants, left to rot in your too-big bed, in your too-big chambers, while the madness churned throughout the seven kingdoms - it had you standing at the barred windows wondering if you could pry open the bars and toss yourself to your death just to have something to do. sometimes, you saw wisps of greenfire from the courtyards, and you were glad at least the mad king maintained a routine throughout all this. even when the essence of nightshade hidden in the deepest folds of your drawers called to you, you remained passive. too cowardly to die, and too cowardly to want to live, merely withering under the same fate you were so adamantly trying to escape.

hongjoong was kind to you sometimes - he brought you books from the library some nights, or he drew you your baths - but he was the reason for this. he knew it, and you knew it, and he knew you knew it.

you hadn't seen or heard from mingi. you did not ask hongjoong or yeosang about him.

so when you opened your door one night, and yeosang stood at attention, you let the fire in your stomach, in your veins, in your heart, burn so bright, so hot, it felt the way dragonfire had on your skin that night so long ago.

yeosang pulled out two metal flasks from his pack.

you peered at the large containers, grimacing at the strong acidic smell as you opened one of the flasks. the smell burned your nostrils and still had it at arms-length. "that's not ale."

"it's stronger," he said, with a shrug. "i thought you'd need it."

you grinned as you took a swig of the flask. the alcohol burned as you swallowed and you grimaced at the taste. you had not had liquor in a long time, not since you'd left your chambers and joined yeosang, mingi, and hongjoong in post-tourney festivities. that had been so, so long ago. yeosang chuckled at your grimace, before he gestured to your chambers.

"glad you like it," yeosang said, "now leave me to my duties."

you frowned, "it is bad manners to let someone drink alone, you know."

yeosang's brows furrowed in confusion, "i'd have thought i would be your last choice for a drinking partner."

"fortunately for you, your company is better than no company."

"ouch, your grace," yeosang pressed a hand to his heart, his eyes twinkling as it used to. "your tongue has gotten sharper."

"you could tell hongjoong to let me free. i find without practice, my social skills have become quite unsightly."

yeosang snorted before he shook his head. you took another swig of the flask, your throat burning as you swallowed, your cheeks warming already, and yeosang's eyes followed the movement, his brows furrowing once more. he said, "i was told to stand guard here. not drink."

you frowned at him, "fine, then i'll join you."

yeosang shook his head, "you are to remain in your chambers."

"i thought orders were merely suggestions to you."

yeosang rolled his eyes, "sometimes. but not these."

"fine," you dragged one of the stools in the sitting room of your chambers to the door, propping the heavy wooden door open. then you took a seat at the threshold, the doorway dividing the two of you. you looked up at yeosang, "i can drink like this, and you can have some if you'd like. i'll remain in my chambers, and you at the door."

yeosang peered down at you for a long, long moment. it was reminiscent of the time you both discussed what you had done to mingi. however, this time, he was not as furious. his eyes twinkled in amusement, but there was something else there - something you saw often in hongjoong's eyes these days, in the eyes of your septa as well when she'd take you to the godswood to 'pray as a proper king's spouse should'. you thought it melancholic.

after a moment, he bent to take a seat beside the door, facing the hall, his back pressed to the door hinge. the metal of his armor clinked loudly against the stone floors. it reminded you of mingi.

yeosang was not quite facing you, and it was strange to find it fitting of him, as if you knew him in some way. you did, did you not? you knew him as long as you knew hongjoong and mingi. very soon, you would know him, and hongjoong, and mingi, the red keep and king's landing, longer than you have known your brothers and parents and dorne. soon you would no longer be dornish, as hongjoong had said.

you took a bigger swig from the flask at that thought, wrinkling your nose at the taste.

"was this difficult to get?" you asked.

"no."

"what is the red keep like these days?"

"the same as it always is."

"you're quite entertaining, ser yeosang." you drawled, injecting all the sarcasm you could into your tone.

yeosang gave you a sidelong glance, "you talk too much, your grace."

so you asked more questions, and yeosang provided more vague answers.

whenever he was stationed outside your door, he brought you ale, liquor, or even sweets from the kitchen. you propped open your chambers doors. you asked questions. yeosang barely answered.

it became the highlight of your long, drawn out days.

~.~.~.~.~

hongjoong entered your chambers, servants scurrying all about in his wake. they were packing.

you frowned, "what is going on?"

"i am going north," he said, distractedly, "to winterfell."

you blinked, once, twice, three times. you whispered, "just you?"

and you did not mean for that curl of anguish at the pit of your stomach to drip into your voice. you did not mean to live in limbo for so long, only to feel as if you've been doused in ice water. hongjoong hadn't touched you, hadn't truly spoken to you, for a long, long, long time.

yet, this time your heart stilled.

hongjoong looked up at you, his fingers wrapped in his warmest cloak, black and red spilling from his fingers like blood and dragonscales.

your chest felt constricted as you stared down at him. you said, "you're leaving me here?"

"i am keeping you safe," hongjoong said, voice low. the servants continued to dash throughout the chambers, their footsteps echoing all around you, ringing in your ears, "the rebellion draws closer to king's landing by each day and i must head north to secure allies."

the rebellion. the rebellion, the rebellion, the rebellion, the rebellion. those words rang loud as the bells of a bell tower. there was a war, and no one told you. you were in danger, and no one told you. hongjoong told you nothing. no one told you, and you were going to remain here. like a bird in a gilded cage, you would remain in an empty castle while hongjoong secured his other possessions.

"the rebellion?" your voice cracked. you felt horror and relief and anger and terror and so many other emotions. hongjoong's gaze softened when he looked at you, strangely enough. he stood, pushing his blond hair from his eyes as he waved his hands.

"jongho's rebellion," hongjoong said, with a questioning frown. "you did not know?"

something flipped in you then, something that always flipped when you were in the presence of hongjoong's nonchalance. you seethed, "how would i know? how would i know when you've locked me away all this time?!"

your exclamation echoed off the walls. the movement in the room stilled. hongjoong waved his hands and the servants scurried from the room.

your chambers were too quiet.

jongho's rebellion rang in your ears. suddenly, the brothel visits made sense. why, you did not know, as they were brothers by all but blood, the chois and hongjoong, yet here you stood seething as hongjoong closed his eyes and pushed his hair from his eyes. "the details do not matter. jongho and san are traitors who must be dealt with, and this decision will keep you safe. i am keeping you safe. you are a target, y/n."

"then take me with you."

"no."

"why? because of seonghwa?"

"you are safest in the red keep."

"you told me i am safest with you."

"y/n, you are staying here."

you knew then, that there was no changing his mind. so you stepped closer, your anger turning to a sort of desperation you never meant to show kim hongjoong. you said, "then let me go return to yunho. to sunspear."

"so dorne can join the jongho's rebellion? so you can join san?" hongjoong snapped, venom lacing his tone, the same kind of venom the mad king held when he spoke of dorne. his eyes darkened, "absolutely not."

"fine!" you grit your teeth, "do the kims not have their own stronghold? from the old days? what of dragonstone? let me go there, at the very least."

you'd seen it on maps and read of it in an old, tattered book in the library. dragonstone was a castle situated on an island of the same name, and it was the stronghold for house kim before house targaryen moved to the red keep. the castle was used on occasion, and last you heard the queen was sent there by the mad king. the mad king remained at king's landing. the rebellion was headed this way.

"you will stay here, y/n," hongjoong reached out and cupped your cheek, his dark eyes flickering between yours. he spoke with a finality that made you want to scream.

desperation clawed under your skin, up your throat, lived inside you. you knew he would keep you in this gilded cage next to his father, open to danger from every which way, and you were reacting as a caged animal would. he did not care, you realized, as he watched you struggle with picking your next words. he did not care. he did not think.

you bit out, "with your mad father?"

hongjoong shook his head, brushing his thumb along your hairline, "he will not hurt you. i will keep a guard posted."

hongjoong was fleeing. the realization sent a chill down your spine. hongjoong was fleeing without you.

you'd never, not once, begged him of anything, even when he touched you. but as you stood there, desperation clawing at your skin. this decision would damn you to a terrible fate, and the way hongjoong looked at you, as if he did not understand the desperation clawing its way through you, made you want to shake him by the shoulders. jongho was rebelling, lord kang left king's landing, the queen was sent to dragonstone, and hongjoong was fleeing north. only the mad king remained. there was no hope left here.

you were being left for dead. or worse.

"hongjoong, please help me," you pleaded, fingers curling around the sleeve of his black and red robes. "just this once. please let me go anywhere but here."

you could have sworn that hongjoong’s eyes lit up, even as he stroked your cheek to comfort you. your grip on his sleeve tightened in hope. maybe he would listen?

his eyes fell to your fist, and he reached with his other hand to curl it around your wrist. his thumb grazed along your burn scar, and he observed it for a long moment before he returned his gaze to you.

your heart sank to the pit of your stomach when he murmured, "i’ve helped you time and time again already, y/n. this time you will stay and that is final."

you clutched at his sleeve once more. he peered down at your tight grip.

"then stay by my side," you forced restraint, if only to maintain some sort of dignity. you leaned close, blinking away the sting of tears, and said as softly as you could, "i want you to stay with me."

hongjoong smiled. he shook your hand from his sleeve. he circled both hands around your wrist, his thumb pressing into the burn scar there. there was a twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes, but there was no regret. he said, "i will return to you soon, my love. believe me."

you had no other choice, you both knew.

and so, you stayed.

~.~.~.~.~

[jaeyunbaeun]

[4] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "do you want to know the first thing my father taught me?"

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: 23k words omg.... violence, reader experiences misogyny but they are gender neutral, implied sexual tension/relationships/lead up to sexual situations but nothing explicit (aside from the yearning lmao), talk of people burning at the stake, gross imagery i.e. eating raw meat, brief reference to the grooming and assault of a child (not hongjoong or reader), cheating, toxic hongjoong, reader becomes progressively more manipulative, references to SA (not hongjoong or reader), implied physical abuse (not hongjoong or reader), yeosang/reader situationship, one sided mingi/reader, whew this one is a doozy of introspection, also thought about this quote a lot: "no one will know how much violence it took to become this gentle"

-

they say the kims are closer to god then they are to men. you were warned of this, and, some days, you'd believed it.

you believed it on some days. when king kim would send you and hongjoong raw meat from the kitchens with the explicit orders that that was all you were both to eat for a month. hongjoong had the meat sent back every time, but the stench of raw meat never left your nose. when you stood in the gallows of king's landing with the rest of the court and watched innocents burn at the stake, green fire rising and swirling into a column of smoke that disappeared into the glum sky of king's landing, pained screams still ringing in your ears and the stench of burnt flesh still lingering in your nose long after the executions. those days hongjoong would stand in front of you as if he meant to block your view of the scene, but you'd always see it and hear it. there was no way to avoid it when the king insisted the court should have full view of the executions.

with each passing public execution, the anguished screams and choked sobs of those in the audience melted away, until one day you stood in an audience that was only chilling silence, as if the world itself had gone numb.

worst of all, you could still smell everything. the stench of fire and ashes and burnt flesh.

the king faced no consequences for these acts of violence.

eventually the queen stopped taking visitors, even hongjoong, you'd noticed. the two of you continued to share his bedchambers, and you quickly grew accustomed to his extensive schedule. he stopped visiting his mother around a fortnight after you'd wedded him. only a a handful of maids were allowed to see her, which you knew because one of the maids reported to hongjoong of his mother's condition every morning. even though you slept in his too-big bed, and he had the servants lay out a separate bed near the balcony for himself, you grew accustomed to his habits.

you'd wondered once if he knew of yours. it was likely he did not.

king kim was so close to god, he did whatever he wished without consequence, and the thought of his reign of terror going unchecked left you more anxious than you wished to admit.

at least until one warm summer night, when the king called for you to help feed the dragons in the dragonpit. a task he deemed a rite of passage for the newest kim, though you both knew damn well you would not make it out of the dragonpit in one piece.

you were no kim in the dragon's eyes.

the king sat upon his cold iron throne and looked upon you with a treacherous glint in his eyes. it was a look that grew as time passed, as if he'd forgotten his content with hongjoong and your betrothal, and his mistrust for you and dorne had returned. the feeling of his eyes boring into you, knowing he could decide whatever you wished, made you angry. without hongjoong there to counteract the mad king's demands, you were vulnerable. you could not stand vulnerability. you could not stand that you understood why they said the kims were closer to god. not because of their dragons, but because they were above punishment. the king was allowed to dole out punishment as he wished, to whomever he wanted, and no one lifted a finger to deny him of his supposed gods-given rights.

the king's serpent grin as he bestowed his request upon you haunted your thoughts.

that night, barely a name-day after you were wedded to hongjoong, you'd found yourself eye-to-eye with a dragon you'd never seen before. a smaller one, with blue leather skin and sharp eyes. you thanked the gods, old and new, that this time the dragon did not seem in the mood to breathe fire. the kingsguard who had escorted you down to the dragonpit had long disappeared, and you'd stared at the beast as it reared its head and stalked towards you and the bloody slabs of meat you'd dropped long ago.

you were not as brave as you had been your first night you'd entered the dragonpit, and perhaps that was a testament of the years you'd spent in king's landing away from sunspear. the person who stepped off that ship and snuck into the dragonpit was long gone. your dornish curiosity, your bravery, it had all been snatched from you, and you now stood before this dragon with your heart lodged in your throat, frozen and terrified.

the dragon sniffed at the bloody meat between you both, and you knew the only reason you'd managed to move, despite the terror, was the thought that your family did not deserve to see your body returned to them in pieces.

so you'd ran. you ran from the dragon, king's orders be damned.

you ran to the to the door, your footsteps echoing through the dragonpit, an eerie sound that bounced off the walls, ringing in your ears as if even your footsteps were chasing after you. the dragon roared. the sound of it tearing at the meat, it's jaw snapping, following the roars.

your hands shook as you fiddled with the rusted steel door handle, and panic filled your stomach when the door remained firmly shut. the dragon roared once more. the sound was closer. you slammed your shoulder against the door. once. twice. thud, thud, thud.

it swung open with a clang. you stumbled into something - no, someone - sturdy and warm. hands settled on your shoulders, steadying you.

you'd blinked at him. his unruly silver hair, gritted teeth, and furrowed brows.

hongjoong was supposed to be in a strategy meeting at the other side of the red keep. the king knew as much, and you knew it too when you'd agreed to the king's demands.

he wasn't supposed to be here.

so, why was he here?

hongjoong frowned at you, his eyes narrowing into annoyance as he studied your face. for a long moment, you both merely stood at the threshold to the dragonpit. another roar from the dragon and you surged closer to hongjoong and further from the open door. hongjoong's grip on your shoulders tightened, his fingers curling around your elbow, even as he he yanked you away from the door and kicked it shut behind him.

the door slammed shut with a dull thud, drowning out the dragon’s roars, and only then did he let you go. your back hit the wall, and suddenly everything was too quiet. all you could hear was your ragged breathing and your own heart knocking against your ribs. the dragon and the dragonpit was gone, but as you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, leaning against the wall, and tried to catch your breath, hongjoong's furious gaze burned hotter than the breath of a dragon. it was a fury you did not see from him anymore, though perhaps that was because you and hongjoong had barely spoken since your conversation during the bedding ceremony.

the silence over the dimly lit corridor settled between you both. he stepped closer, his vindictive eyes fixed on you as he snapped, "why the hell did you come here?"

you bristled at his tone, "your father ordered me to!"

hongjoong's eyes widened. was he truly surprised? after everything the mad king had done?

hongjoong stepped closer, arms crossed over his chest, gaze skeptical and tone accusatory, "and you did not think to ask me to join you before you came here?"

"you were occupied," you spat, rolling your eyes.

despite your tone, you slumped against the wall behind you, hand over your heart to calm it. hongjoong's scowl was a burning thing, his gaze digging into your skull. you pointedly ignored it in liege of catching your bearings.

eventually he spoke, tone scathing, "you are an idiot."

you scowled at hongjoong, ignoring the way his eyes narrowed at your expression. if anyone deserved his wrath, it was his father. not you.

"your father has always been mad, and i've looked past it same as the rest of you. however, i cannot ignore this. he demanded this of me knowing damn well you would be occupied. clearly he wishes upon my death," you'd bit out, hiding at an ache on your arm. perhaps the dragon did not breathe fire, but it had clawed at you, the same way the mad king had with his own claws.

there was a scratch along your arm, right above the burn from long ago. blood trickled down your forearm. you stared at it for a long moment, unable to recall how you'd gotten it. now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the sharp sting of the wound was at the forefront of your mind.

you turned your scowl on hongjoong, watching as his gaze flit to your wounded arm and remained fixed there. he did not, you noticed, deny your accusation. yours was a heavy, treasonous statement to make against the king of westeros. especially to his son. he should have denied it.

you frowned at his silence, "you are aware of this?"

it was a question you knew the answer to.

hongjoong stood with his arms crossed over his chest. he grit his teeth, "my father believes i wish to usurp him using your father's support."

"and why would he believe something as absurd as that?" you asked, warily.

hongjoong's dragged his hand through his silver-white hair, shrugging. his gaze left yours, fixing over your shoulder, over nothing. it wasn’t the most absurd idea, not in this mad court.

"he is the mad king, y/n.” he emphasized mad king as if that were explanation enough.

"so what? some of his mad thoughts are not always unfounded," you said, narrowing your eyes at hongjoong as you watched him fidget. you've come to learn that hongjoong did not fidget as others did. it was subtle. a moment's glance away, a tap of his fingers against his forearm. they were all subtle signs you'd picked up from sleeping in his chambers, and you were not sure if you liked this newfound ability of yours. it only made you wonder what habits hongjoong had noticed of yours.

hongjoong stood before you, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for you to keep speaking. how he knew you would was beyond you.

you crossed your arms over your chest when the silence stretched on too long, "so, do you wish to usurp him? is that what the mad king’s vendetta is about?”

"i am no kinslayer," hongjoong glowered.

you'd raised a skeptical brow in response, "only because kinslaying is socially irredeemable."

"must you always think the worst of me?"

you snorted, "am i incorrect in my assumption, then? that the king’s anger is unfounded?”

hongjoong then let out the smallest of laughs, a bubble of a thing that graced his annoyed features. he shook his head, but he did not answer you. instead, he said, "come. let us tend to your wound."

you drew your arm to your chest, narrowing your eyes at his attempt to dodge your questions.

hongjoong merely held his hand out, waiting.

you glared at him and the offending hand, "you did not answer me."

"because i do not want to."

"then i will take it to be true, usurper."

"you’ve made up your mind already. will it make a difference? if it were true or not?”

you'd blinked at his expression. he shook his outstretched palm at you, an impatient movement.

you both knew that even if hongjoong truly did wish to usurp the throne, you'd still be entangled in the king's plots. you would remain a target. and if it wasn't true? the king would still continue to plot against you both. he was mad, after all, even if some of his madness was not unfounded. he hated dorne, and you were of dorne. he hated his son, and you were his spouse.

“yes, your admission would.” you cradled your arm to your chest. you clarified, "make a difference, i mean."

"how?"

"you'd have told me the truth."

"do we do that now?"

you frowned, "i suppose not."

hongjoong smiled, and it was a soft thing. he shook his head, before he held his hand out once more.

after a moment, you placed your injured hand in his. he held it carefully, and you'd ignored the way your chest ached.

in the year or so that you'd been wedded to hongjoong, nothing had truly changed. little things had changed here and there. he bothered you less than he used to, and your septa no longer reprimanded you for the way you responded to him.

other than that, he continued on with his lessons and his meetings. you continued on with your sword and riding lessons, and attended events and meetings as duty called.

the only difference that mattered was you and hongjoong slept in the same room together. nightly routines meant you'd lay in his too-big bed until sleep came, and sometimes you'd stir awake in the middle night when hongjoong entered the chambers and readied himself for bed. some mornings, you woke at the same time as him, and you ignored him getting dressed as you stepped into the bathing room to dress yourself or draw yourself a bath, not bothering to call for the servants. hongjoong never left the room when he wished to get dressed, much to your annoyance. still, most mornings, you woke to his bed empty.

some days, during banquets or jousting matches, you'd have to arrive alongside hongjoong. he'd hold his arm out for you to hook your arm through his elbow and the servants would dress you both in matching colors. he'd cock his brow in amusement as you took his offered arm, but he maintained a polite distance otherwise as he led you to the tourney or banquet. you'd made it a point every jousting match to not once give him your flower wreath and bestow him your favor. at banquets you sat next to him and not once did you turn to speak to him.

at one of the jousting tourneys, hongjoong waited at the foot of the stands for your favor, his silver-white hair pushed back from his eyes as he held his jousting sword out in your direction, his armor glinting under the sunlight. you'd treaded right past him, placing it upon the sword of ser eunwoo of the riverlands instead. hongjoong's eyes had flashed, even as he let out a loud bellowing laugh that rang loud in your ears. his grin was a wide terror of a thing. to the people of the court, your behavior was all fun and games between newly weds. teasing, good fun. sometimes, there were whispers that it was something less kind, but no one truly dared speak ill of the heir at court. the mad king was one thing, but the mad king's son was an entirely different matter. you knew it angered hongjoong, however, when you undermined him so publicly, but you doubted he cared otherwise. his sword was always adorned by flower wreath after flower wreath, favor upon favor, from too many to count. you were a wreath among many others. what did your favor matter to him?

ser eunwoo, ser baekhyun, every knight you'd ever favored in hongjoong's stead, ended up sprawled across the ground with his helmet gone and his nose or arm or fingers or some other appendage broken or severely injured from the impact of hongjoong’s jousting sword. hongjoong always tugged at his horse's reins as he galloped back and forth after in celebration, the crowd cheering him on. once you’d dared meet his eyes through the crowd, and his dark eyes glinted as his grin widened.

when he'd defeated ser eunwoo, your favor had flown from ser eunwoo's broken jousting sword, and he'd scooped it up and placed it on his, waving his sword to and fro to the sound of crowd howling at his act. your heart raced against your ribs and your stomach turned. you'd watched as hongjoong galloped to where you stood in the stands, reining his horse in. he held his sword out to you, and the tourney grew silent in anticipation. your favor slipped from the tip of his sword and fell to the floor in front of you, past your limp hands. he grinned, all teeth and fire in his eyes, before he dismounted his horse and turned away, bowing to the crowd.

"you could have killed him," you'd admonished afterwards, when you both left together in hongjoong's carriage.

you'd reminded him of that fact every time he did such a thing.

every time, hongjoong shrugged in response and said, "if you worry for their lives, why do you give them your favor?"

you'd frowned and hongjoong had laughed.

the next tournament, you kept your favor in your lap, defiant as you met hongjoong's gaze. he won the match and dumped all the favors he'd received in front of your feet, and his grin was not as wild as it once had been. the audience hooted with glee. hongjoong turned away from you.

"quite a lover's quarrel, huh?" yeosang asked with a grin and a congratulatory pat to hongjoong's back before he opened the carriage door, after that particular tourney incident.

hongjoong narrowed his eyes at yeosang, and you were shocked he did not strangle yeosang where he stood. it was a testament, you thought, to their bond, and it always made your chest tight to see evidence of such a thing when you had nothing. the carriage ride home was a long and silent.

some days, you'd believed the kims were closer to god than to the rest of you, but on days like this you knew they were the same as any other person. human and angry and begrudging as the rest of you. it made you laugh, a bubbling giggle escaping your lips, and hongjoong glanced sideways at you before he huffed and fixed his gaze out the carriage window.

~.~.~.~.~

a year prior, the sun beat down over your heads as you stood at port. the smell of rotting fish invaded your senses and you could almost taste it on your tongue alongside the sea salt carried with the ocean breeze. the heat of the sun trickled down your spine. you did not know when king's landing's sun became hotter than dorne's, but you thought it fitting that you'd notice it now, as you stood on the docks and watched your father's knights ready his ship.

dorne's flag - orange with a yellow spear piercing a red sun - fluttered high in the sky. it beckoned to you, and you wanted so badly to join your family. you wanted so badly to return to dorne, to touch the sands of sunspear and take meals alongside your brothers. you wanted so badly to find forgiveness for your father, to kneel at your mother's feet and eat the fruits she'd cut for you while she massaged hot oil into your hair. you dreamt of those evenings, her fingers gentle on your scalp while she hummed an ancient melody she said her mother had taught her. you'd asked her to teach you once, and she hummed and said she would when her duties allowed her rest. she'd never gotten around to it. you wanted so badly to learn it now.

you wanted your family. you wanted dorne. you wanted to leave.

your chest ached with the want.

that day, mingi stood at your side, instead of hongjoong. the king, queen, and hongjoong had already said their farewells to your family in the throne room. you hadn't been there. you'd woken to an empty bed, and an anxious thrum deep in your bones. you'd wrapped a cloak over your sleep clothes and stumbled to the chamber doors. at the threshold to hongjoong's chambers, you found mingi and two other kingsguard you did not recognize standing guard outside hongjoong's chambers.

they all stood with their heads held high, eyes boring straight ahead. not once did any of them look your way. not even mingi. in just one night, so much had changed. all because of a few vows.

you had not realized the true impact of wedding hongjoong until that moment.

you cleared your throat, and you asked, "where is the prince?"

surely, he'd have been left alone the night after his wedding as you had been. you thought of the conversation that transpired between you, but you took care to pack away the conversation, the whole night. you did not care to linger on it. now, especially, was not the time to dwell on such trivial matters.

one of the other kingsguard spoke loudly, his voice grating on your frazzled nerves. he did not look at you. neither of them did. was that how you would be treated now? as someone so respected, they saw right through you?

"the prince has gone to see the king's guests off in the throne room, my liege. the king has ordered that they all depart immediately.”

you'd blinked at that. why hadn't you been told that your family would be departing so soon? why were they leaving so soon?

you knew why, but you still could not fathom that it was happening.

you'd clutched the door, voice rough even to your own ears, "when?"

no one said anything.

"when did they leave?" your voice rose, and only then did they look at you. really look at you. you did not recognize any of them. mingi, however, met your gaze with sympathy. pity almost, and you held your breath in anticipation. you expected him to say they'd already left. that you'd slept through their departure, and this time you hadn't had a chance to say your goodbyes.

but then he said, "they're being escorted to the port. they are to leave when the sun is highest in the sky."

"i want to see them."

"my liege -"

"i demand to see them off," you scowled at mingi, "were you ordered to keep me here?"

mingi shook his head. “not me.”

the other kingsguard threw him a look.

you'd tied your cloak securely around yourself and stepped out into the hall, "then i am going."

a day ago, the kingsguard would have ignored your demands completely. even mingi, because despite your companionship with him, he answered to the crown first.

this time, however, they'd exchanged nervous looks, shifting from foot-to-foot, before mingi stepped forward and said, "i will escort them to port.”

the other kingsguard frowned, "what if the prince...?"

mingi shrugged, "i will take full responsibility if the prince wishes to punish us."

so mingi had brought you to port with an urgency you appreciated. throughout the walk there, mingi remained silent. steadfast. as if he was a stranger and you were meeting him all over again. perhaps, that was what happened when one becomes the heir's spouse.

now, he stood by your side. your mother had already stroked your cheek and insisted you stay warm. her voice was a soft, choked thing, and you'd pulled her into another hug. she'd pulled away first, and you felt a part of your heart walking away with her.

your father pressed a hand to your mother's shoulder as she pressed a hand to her mouth and stepped back, giving him room. he searched your gaze for a long, long time. an inkling of rage settled in your stomach as he said, "i am proud of you."

you did not want the burden of his pride. you only wanted to go home. you dipped your head, murmured, "thank you, father."

your father pushed your hair from your face, and he smiled sadly at what he saw in your expression. perhaps he could see the anger and longing in your eyes. then he joined your mother with another piece of your heart. they walked aboard the ship hand in hand, and waited.

you watched them, until you were tugged sideways, into a warm embrace. you let out a gasp of surprise, before you clung to him. the ache in your chest grew, and your fingers curled around the back of his shirt. you looked up at wooyoung's face as he leaned back just a bit and reached up to cup either side of your face in his warm, calloused hands. he said, kindly, too kindly, "take care of yourself, alright?"

"you, too." you said, swallowing the lump in your throat, "please."

wooyoung's fingers tightened against your face before he pulled away. he glanced sideways, throwing mingi a small, amused smile, before he turned away completely and boarded the ship, joining your parents.

yunho stood before you then, and he embraced you for a long, long moment, rocking you back and forth. when he stepped back to take a better look at you, he peered down at you as if he were committing you to memory. as if he would not see you again.

he would not, you both knew, but you did not wish to dwell on the thought right then. the yearning ache in your chest only grew. you knew that this was it.

this was it.

yunho held your hands between his, squeezing tightly, and he said, "write me, please."

"i will, but it will be shallow..."

you trailed off when yunho shook his head, his eyes fixed on yours, full of a burning fire you hadn't expected. such a look was unfamiliar on the yunho you knew. he was determined as he said, with a meaningful squeeze of your hands, "there are other ways to send letters. besides you are no longer a ward. you are the heir's spouse. do you understand what that means, y/n? you have access to channels you’ve never had before.”

the thought never occurred to you. you'd blinked, nodding slowly.

your thoughts reeled at the possibilities. he was right. you held a modicum of power, no matter how limited. you said, slowly, “i will write you often, then."

"yes. write me of everything. i wish to know of even the most mundane of details." yunho’s smile was contagious, and you could not help the small laugh as you nodded.

the gaze beneath his smile held an edge you needed time to acclimate to. time you did not have with yunho or wooyoung. time you wanted so badly to have.

yunho ruffled your hair, and he retreated. he joined your family against the rails. the crew raised the anchors, and shouted at each other as they set sail. you watched with bated breath as wooyoung leaned over the rails and grinned, waving at you with both hands. he wiped at his face as he did so, and you felt tears spring to your eyes at the thought of wooyoung crying. you were the cause of it. yunho merely leaned against the rails beside wooyoung and watched. your mother sobbed. the sound curled over the ocean breeze and lodged itself in what was left of your heart. your father crossed his arms over his broad chest. you waved back until your arm ached. until their boat was a tiny dot on the horizon. until your aching heart felt as if it'd been torn away from your chest, swept across the ocean. you wanted so badly to stand beside them once more. just one more time.

but you were still standing in king's landing.

the silence then was a deafening thing. the sea still crashed against the port, and the port was still a busy, bustling thing, but the silence engulfing you was worse than the ache in your chest. saying goodbye a second time was infinitely worse than saying it once. wind gusted around you, and you heard the distant roars of a dragon - you could see a dragon weaving in and out of the clouds above the sea. you could not tell whose dragon it was. hongjoong's was an onyx black, large and thin with claws longer than your head. you'd see it from afar in the dragonpit a few times. despite the spectacle above you, despite the bustling around you, your head felt empty, muffled.

you knew your heart had crept aboard the ship, and left you behind too. the part of your heart that always held onto dorne and wished to go home was finally going home, and you were left behind to rot.

"something sweet and a listening ear always helps after something like this, you know," mingi's deep voice startled you from your thoughts. he'd been so quiet, you'd forgotten of his presence.

you looked over at mingi, and his neck remained craned as he peered up at the dragon weaving through the clouds. he must have felt your gaze on him, because he turned to look at you, and that wide grin of his graced his serious features. his eyes did not light up the same way his face had, and you could not fault him for it.

“oh?” you asked, "what do you suggest?"

mingi turned away from the sky and the sea, turning fully to face you. he explained, "the kitchen cook makes such decadent desserts with the leftover dough. he fries it and rolls it in sugar."

your chest still ached, and you felt like too many parts of you had gone missing, but mingi's sweet smile staved off the ache just a bit. his expression held a hint of excitement you had not seen in too long. not since before mingi joined the kingsguard, really, so you found yourself grinning along with his excitement as best as you could.

you nodded, "you've convinced me."

mingi grinned, "you'll love it."

~.~.~.~.~

when you were a small child, yunho, wooyoung, and you were often left to your own devices to entertain yourselves as you saw fit. your parents had assigned the three of you your own caretakers, but they'd grown resigned to the fact that neither of you liked to be watched during all hours of the day. the three of you ran off too often, quickly making it a game. your caretakers eventually gave up. as long as you were together, your parents and your caretakers did not mind.

often times, you spent your days in the orchards and mango groves climbing trees or picking mangoes or practicing swordplay on the beach or chasing each other through the narrow streets of sunspear or lounging about under the sun in one of the hidden courtyards.

that day, long ago, you and yunho were practicing your swordfighting with wooden swords you'd swiped from the training vaults, while wooyoung used his wooden sword to crouch in the sand to the side and draw silly renditions of the two of you, a pile of seashells towered by his feet. he always made your head too big and yunho's limbs much longer than the rest of him.

you'd knocked yunho over once again, grinning as he remained sprawled in the sand.

"you're quite terrible at this," you'd teased. wooyoung was the one with sword talent. you and yunho competed often for who was worse. today, it seemed yunho was winning.

yunho merely remained sprawled out on the sand, scowling at you when you poked at his sprawled form with the end of your sword. he did not give you a response, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

"hey," wooyoung looked up from his drawing, his expression almost pensive. his brows were furrowed together and he wrapped his arms around his knees, the wooden sword dangling from his fingers. from your angle, woo looked tiny. he asked, his voice drifting on the breeze between the three of you, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"

you'd frowned, confused by wooyoung's sudden sincerity. he'd been quite serious all day, really, and he hadn't explained why, merely choosing to remain quieter than usual. you and yunho exchanged a look. you'd both wondered aloud what was weighing him, but you neither of you had wanted to ask him. sometimes, questions set wooyoung off worse when he fell into one of his quiet moods.

yunho shrugged, his gaze fixed on the sky, "i'm going to be the prince of dorne. and you're going to be my army's combat general. y/n is going to be my diplomat."

wooyoung grimaced, straightening his back as his eyes narrowed. there was a storm brewing beneath his expression that you did not understand at the time. he said, "i am not asking what father and mother decided we'd be. what do you want, yunho?"

yunho blinked, craning his neck to examine wooyoung. whatever he saw softened the furrow of his brow. he said, "i do not know, brother. i've never considered doing anything else."

"don't you think you should?" wooyoung sighed.

you'd frowned at wooyoung then, your voice quiet, "what is this about?"

wooyoung looked up you for a long moment, before he shrugged, and he said, "of course yunho doesn't know. for a boy with access to all the lessons in the world, you're quite shit at using your own brain aren’t you?"

there was a teasing lilt to wooyoung's voice, under all the other emotions.

yunho rolled his eyes, but you could see a hint of hurt cross his features. then yunho chucked his wooden sword in wooyoung's direction. you giggled at how far off the throw was. wooyoung put a hand over his heart, offended.

you spoke then, if only to offset the hurt you'd seen in yunho's eyes for just a moment. you loved wooyoung, but he tended to say things that were quite mean, even if he only meant it in jest. "leave yunho alone, woo. why wonder and dream of other possibilities when your future is already set in stone?"

yunho's smile was small, though his nod was vigorous as he threw wooyoung a smug look. wooyoung stuck his tongue out at yunho.

"well what about you, y/n? what do you want to be when you grow up?"

he'd raised a brow, ignoring you completely.

"kind," you said with a shrug, humoring him. you'd thought about it often anyway. you said, "like the cooks when they're tired but they still make us extra desserts, and the ladies by the well, and like the stable boy that takes care of the horses at the east end."

wooyoung blinked at you, and that stormy look returned.

"you are already kind," yunho muttered, pushing himself up to a seated position. he rolled his eyes, though the act was good-natured, "just admit you don't know either."

"so woo can also declare me an idiot?"

"at least with you, he's not wrong."

you'd kicked yunho’s foot, and he giggled in response.

wooyoung's voice was soft as he pursed his lips. his words, however, were sly as he pointed his wooden sword at you, "i knew you’d taken a liking to the stable boy."

"i did not!" you tossed your stick at wooyoung, and unlike yunho, you did not miss. wooyoung shrieked when it hit his arm with a light thwack. he sprawled out on the dirt, clutching his arm as if you'd stabbed him with a real sword.

you'd rolled your eyes, calling over his whining, "and what about you?"

he paused in his rolling in the sand, pouting as he said, "i'm not certain i want to grow up. father is always traveling to the other kingdoms for his meetings, and mother never looks happy anymore."

"it's politics," yunho said. "the kingdom comes first."

"even if it costs you your happiness?" wooyoung waved a hand around them, "even if we won't be able to spend hours at the beach?"

"is that what makes you happy?" you asked, softly, smiling a bit at the thought. "spending time with us?"

"don't make it sappy, y/n." wooyoung snapped, though he would not meet your gaze and his smile was visible even from where you stood. "i only wonder what doing something you do not love does to a person. father is distant, and mother drinks so much i heard the kitchen servants mention that it was concerning. what if you cannot be kind, y/n? what if we all become terrible? what if we forget what we love?"

you'd blinked at his sincere words. wooyoung was always profound. he appeared thoughtless and loud and reckless, but you knew he spent too much time thinking when he was alone, and he cared more than he'd ever let on. where yunho was loud with his love, despite being reserved and held back with everything else, wooyoung was the opposite. quiet with his love, but exaggerated in his teasing, and rowdy, and always so there. always thinking of you all, it seemed.

"oh," yunho's voice was a quiet thing, "you think if we don't know what we want to be when we grow up, then we'll become something we never imagined? that we will become something we hate? is that it?"

yunho stared at the sky, as if he was speaking to the gods.

wooyoung pursed his lips, his eyes fixed on yunho’s profile. he hung in yunho’s words as if he would have the answers. yunho always knew the answers, how to logically soothe the most anxious of thoughts.

but yunho did not say a word, he only stared at the sky.

wooyoung drew his knees closer to his chest.

"well, why are those the only options? why do we become terrible just because we don't have a dream or goal? why do we need one? there are plenty of people who don't have dreams or goals, woo, and they turned out all right." you spoke up, your voice ringing in the silence.

"those people aren't meant to inherit kingdoms and armies though," wooyoung muttered, frowning.

"my point still stands," you said, nudging yunho's foot with your foot, "right, yun?"

yunho craned his neck in your direction, to wooyoung, and he said, "yes, exactly."

wooyoung rubbed the back of his neck, but he seemed to relax at yunho's confirmation. he never took your word for anything. you found yourself rolling your eyes as wooyoung asked yunho, "really?"

yunho nodded vigorously, and woo smiled, and you said, "see. really."

~.~.~.~.~

it was outside the kitchens, after your family had sailed away, sat on a bench the servants often used to take their meals while you brushed toasted sugar from your finger tips, when mingi finally broke the silence, "i was eight years old when i was sent to king's landing."

that brought you pause.

mingi fiddled with one of the sweets in front of him, his armor clinking softly.

you held your breath as you waited for him to continue. mingi did not divulge information about himself often, and you knew this was a rare occurrence. all that could be heard from your spot in the dark corner outside the kitchens was the distant sound of servants and cooks scrambling in the kitchen. the pitter-patter of hurried footsteps echoed off the stone walls. the smell of roasting meat carried through the air. a bout of laughter here. a scolding there. the clatter of dishware. the world was anything but silent even as you two sat with in silence. you watched mingi scratch idly at the wooden tabletop.

mingi did not say more.

after a long minute, you broke the silence with a tentative voice, "you were brought here? then are you...were you a ward, too?"

you found yourself enraptured by the image of mingi as a ward. sometimes wards were not hostages, not always. sometimes, there were other reasons for lords, ladies, and lieges to place their children in wardships. sometimes, there was a genuine want to build a mutual relationship of trust and love between houses and the ward maintained their freedoms. from the way hongjoong - the red keep really - seemed to adore mingi, you figured that must have been the case. it angered you to know that the red keep was capable of kindness, that a ward could be beloved and treated more than a hostage. you did not want to fault mingi for that.

it made sense. mingi was bastard born, thus carrying the name flowers long before adopting the name and sigil of house song.

in dorne, bastards were treated as equals. in westeros, bastards were punished for simply being born. bastards were treated like scum too often, and you found the practice a despicable thing. even legalized, bastards faced scorn. you peered at mingi in concern, waiting.

"no," mingi let out a small chuckle, shaking his head, "i was no ward. my father...lord song brought me with him to live in king's landing while he worked in the small council. no one considered me their ward. not the king nor lord song. i was merely a motherless bastard lucky to be accepted in the prince’s inner circle."

"oh," you'd blinked at the information, unsure how to respond or what to ask.

"she passed from the pox a few months before lord song found me and we set off to king's landing," mingi divulged, seeming to take pity on your confusion. he said, "i had nowhere else to go, really. even then, the king did not legitimize me for a long, long time."

mingi's expression was distant. you watched as he shook his head, a smile gracing his lips. he said, "i understand how it feels to be left behind, y/n. to miss a home that no longer feels like home. before i was legitimized, lord song left me behind in the red keep. he could not take me back to highgarden. lady song did not take kindly to my existence.”

"what about after you were legitimized?"

"lady song did not change her mind surrounding my existence. i believe being legitimized bothered her more," mingi said with a nonchalant shrug as he leaned back and picked at his nails. everything about him was nonchalant. despite his words. despite never having a home in the lands from which he was born.

that thought made your heart ache, the same way it had when you'd watched your family leave. soon you would live in king's landing longer than you had in dorne. soon you would not have a home in the lands in which you were born, either. sure, your brothers were still there. your parents. but if your brothers have changed so much, then what of your home? what of sunspear? how would you reconcile that as well? you could not blame mingi for his nonchalance. it was easier to remain indifferent then let the worries consume you.

“i never understood the shame westeros has surrounding bastards," you said instead, shaking your head of your thoughts as you frowned at mingi, "it is no fault of yours that your father broke his vows to his wife. a babe should not be shamed for such a thing."

mingi blinked at you, his dark eyes flickering in surprise over your face. his fingers curled around each other briefly, before he shrugged once more. a perfect picture of unbothered. he said, "i've heard dorne treats their bastards well. your judgement is biased.”

"being born is not a crime,” you'd scoffed. “westeros could learn a thing or two from dorne."

mingi smiled, and this time it was genuine. sweet, almost.

you frowned at him as realization dawned on you, "then, lord song left you here alone? every time he returned to highgarden?”

lord song, to this day, visited his home, highgarden in the reach, almost once a month. he made it known to anyone who would listen that he loved and missed his wife dearly. perhaps he did, or perhaps he was overcompensating for his past adultery. either way, it meant he always left king's landing on his own. you recalled how mingi often mentioned that lord song had left for highgarden, how he'd shrugged and he appeared so nonchalant. you'd always assumed mingi chose to stay back, but now that you knew that was never truly the case, your heart tugged for him. yeosang used to spend more time with mingi when his father left. you remembered that much from your childhood. you remembered hongjoong would throw his arm over mingi's shoulders and drag him down to his height. they were always more affectionate with mingi, but you'd never realized why. your frown deepened at the thought of mingi alone somewhere in the red keep, so often. it was an image that was difficult to reconcile with.

"he did," mingi shook his head at your expression, waving his hands in a placating manner, “but i wasn’t completely alone. i had hongjoong and yeosang. san and jongho too whenever they visited. eventually, you were here, too.”

his mention of you was surprising. you'd never thought he cared much for your company. you'd spent too often arguing with hongjoong or scoffing at yeosang. you never thought much of the times hongjoong or yeosang would say something terrible and the two of you would lock gazes over their shoulders, grimaces matching. he'd sometimes shake his head, attempting to deter you, and you would roll your eyes before you spoke up anyway. of course, he sat with you in the library and listened to you read often, and he voluntarily paired off with you during lessons more often than not. he even used to throw yeosang looks when his teasing became too cutting, too pointed, but you'd always believed that was merely what mingi did. you never thought he'd learned to see you as anything but a ward, a hostage of the king's that was lumped together with him and his companions for propriety’s sake. when san courted you, you believed mingi only saw you as an extension of san, and now as an extension to hongjoong. you did not think he saw you as a person, let alone a comforting presence of any sort due to your circumstances.

as you looked at him, and the softness in his eyes, and the small smile on his lips, you detected care. at least a hint of it. it made your thoughts reel.

that had always been your dilemma at king's landing. no one cared much about you as a person. they only ever cared for you due to your status or who you were bound to. even san, though he seemed to care enough to provide you comfort, had other intentions. you wondered, briefly, if mingi would dare devote himself to you. could you ask him for favors? would he carry out your orders? were you thinking ahead of yourself?

you blinked away your, frankly, treacherous thoughts as you murmured into the silence, “it must have been lonely though.”

“it was,” mingi murmured, “as you are well aware of, i’m sure."

you'd frowned.

"i know i am a kingsguard with vows that may not serve you, but," mingi gave you a small, genuine smile, "i am also your friend, y/n."

"is that not a contradiction?" you'd asked then, "to be my friend, to care for me as such, is an insult to the king."

mingi blinked, a slow thing, and he said, "you are married to the king's son."

"a son he does not care much for," you muttered. it was a push, you knew, especially to say such a thing to a member of the kingsguard and to a long-time friend of hongjoong's, but you wanted to know how far you could push him. how deep did the care in his eyes run?

could you make it deeper?

the thought made your stomach churn, the way it did when hongjoong spoke to you the night of your wedding. it was a mixture of fear, and a morbid curiosity, an interest, that you were not sure what to do with.

you focused on mingi. he bit his lip, his gaze slipping past your shoulder for a moment, before he looked at you once more. he said, "the king cannot hurt hongjoong. he cannot hurt you."

"how do you know that?"

"i don't," mingi's brows furrowed into a pained expression, "but i know that i will not stand by and let it happen."

you'd blinked, "are you admitting that you'd turn your cloak?"

"i've turned my cheek too many times, y/n, to too many atrocities," mingi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, his armor clinking softly. "i do not think i could live with myself if i allowed hongjoong and you to get hurt. if i must become a turncloak, then so be it.”

it was always hongjoong in the end.

but you can use that, a voice at the back of your head whispered.

it sounded like hongjoong, and it left a bad taste in your mouth, but you knew the voice was right. you'd pushed mingi, and he let you, and as long as you allowed him to frame his care in a way that appeared as if he was protecting hongjoong, too, then perhaps his devotion could mean something more to you. perhaps, this was what yunho meant. you were the heir's spouse. you had power. sure, it was tied to hongjoong, but did hongjoong have to know how you wielded it? he whispered that he'd teach you, but perhaps you could teach yourself.

"i appreciate your honesty, mingi," you'd sighed. "i know it's difficult to admit such a thing."

mingi dipped his head, his sweet smile making your heart curl in around itself. he said, "you'd asked for honesty once before, y/n, and i do not wish to dismiss your request. i understand hongjoong can be a handful, but you should remember that he listens to yeosang and me. i'm sure you can handle yourself, but if you ever...if you..." mingi cut himself off as he stiffened, shaking his head, "i apologize, i realize i may be speaking out of turn."

you'd shook your head, endeared by his stutter. you did not think yeosang could be helpful, not in the way you thought mingi could be, but you still said, "don't apologize. admittedly, i do need...help with hongjoong sometimes."

mingi's eyes flashed with an emotion you could not place. he only nodded.

you said, "if i need anything, i will ask for you."

he dipped his head in acknowledgement, even as he stood. he held out a hand to take, his armor clinking softly with his movements. you took his hand, allowing him to help you.

"thanks," you said, after a moment of walking silently side-by-side through the halls, "for this. for talking to me."

mingi smiled, and it was a genuine thing, and you almost felt terrible for thinking of using his kindness for your own means.

almost.

~.~.~.~.~

the mad king still held tourneys as if the red keep is not wrought with the stench of burnt bodies, and the courts do not whisper of the king's sure demise. the queen no longer makes public or private appearances.l, except with a select few. mingi often appears haggard when he steps into the library or settles into his assigned post outside hongjoong's chambers. you'd questioned him often, and all mingi would say was that he'd had a long shift guarding the king or queen.

"sweet thing," yeosang grinned, dragging his fingers through his tousled, long blond hair as one of the servants adjusted his jousting armor over his shoulders. kang crimson and gold glinted off his armor as he leaned close and tilted his head, "did you enjoy the matches?"

you could not say that you did.

it had gone as all public appearances for you had, you with your elbow hooked through hongjoong's as you two were announced, the cheering, and you and hongjoong donning his kim black and red, the dragon sigil blaring. the mad king would not attend. he never did. his paranoia was an all-consuming thing. it left hongjoong and you to entertain his father's guests. you watched that evening as hongjoong had roared, waving his jousting sword, as he gathered flower wreath favors from too many to count. as usual, he'd stopped in front of where you sat last, and he presented the tip of his sword.

that night, you'd refused him as you always did, and the whispers were louder than ever. at first, the court believed it playful banter, but it has been too long since you'd been wedded, almost two name days of yours since the event really, and now the amusement had morphed into something more sinister. the king lacking favor made the disdain hongjoong, and ultimately you, received worse.

that night something ferocious flashed in hongjoong's gaze, but he'd only grinned and bowed his head.

that night he lost.

you saw it, in the way he was distracted as his gaze flit across the stands, past you. you'd followed his gaze. you did not wish to care, but your gaze followed his without a second thought.

you saw a man, around your age, around hongjoong and mingi and yeosang and san's age, with hair black as a raven and skin as smooth as the calmest of seas, and his clothes were muted. everything about him was muted, yet he held your attention. you understood why hongjoong fumbled with his sword. why he faltered just at the sight of this man. the man was beautiful. the moon, personified.

he was everything you were not.

hongjoong's second match ended with the opponent he lost to lying flat on his back and heaving for air he could not and did not have, blood sputtering down his lips and half of his face smashed in. he would be dead in minutes, you knew, and the thought only made you tired.

when the tourney finished, you stood waiting for hongjoong, and yeosang appeared in front of you, his sweaty brow glistening under the setting sun, his eyes twinkling as he eyed you in curiosity.

you ignored his question, your gaze sweeping over the other participants, until you found the man who had made hongjoong falter smiling quite sweetly as he spoke with san. you'd blinked. in the stands, the man was the epitome of stoicity, of ice, of the coldness of the moon, but here his smile was a pretty thing. it warmed your heart, the way the afternoon sun would warm your skin when you laid in it. he was everything but cold then.

"park seonghwa," yeosang's low voice settled over you.

you tore your gaze from seonghwa and san, from the way hongjoong sauntered up to san and pat him on the shoulder, turning to the man - park seonghwa - with a wide, toothy grin and unwavering eyes. "what?"

"that is park seonghwa. i am surprised san found a way to convince seonghwa to join us for the tourney," yeosang grinned, but his eyes were fixed on you. "ever since seonghwa left the eyrie, he's kept himself locked away in the north. something about awaiting the north's treacherous winters at winterfell.”

you'd heard the venom laced in yeosang's tone as he spoke. it was not well-hidden, or perhaps you have gotten quite good at picking up on the changes in yeosang after so many years in his vicinity.

you knew of house park, known for their honor and their generosity. the winters up north were long and treacherous, and you did not fault him for remaining in winterfell to help his kingdom last through it. division would bring ruin to any kingdom, but especially to one living under such harsh conditions.

still you focused on the mention of san and the venom in yeosang's expression. you frowned at yeosang, searching his expression for a moment. when he met your inquiring gaze, his smile grew sly. you'd frowned as you said, "why would san have any sway over park seonghwa?"

yeosang let out a small laugh. he said, "seonghwa was fostered in the vale when he was eight years old. jongho and san spent many years there under house lim’s care as well. in fact, jongho and san have quite a long history with seonghwa. rumor has it jongho is smitten with him, though i would not dare repeat such slander."

"oh," you were surprised, and yeosang latched onto to it. you could see it in the way the corner of his mouth tipped upwards and his eyes glinted under the setting sun. you shook your head, "right. why is he here then?"

yeosang pursed his lips. his grin slipped into a steely expression, "i have no idea. diplomacy, perhaps?"

you did not believe him. kang yeosang knew everything. his father was not the only resourceful kang.

you'd rolled your eyes, and yeosang only grinned, shrugging. the conversation ended when hongjoong entered, his jousting armor and helmet gone, his long white-blonde hair tied back into a neat knot. he was spotless, his rings glinting in the setting sun as he held his arms out in greeting, smile all teeth. his eyes fell on you first, lingering briefly before his gaze slid to his friends. he did not look at you again.

that night, hongjoong placed a warm hand at the middle of your back, and he waved mingi over. his gaze never met yours, but his thumb settled into a small pattern along the middle of your back. even through your robes, his hand was warm. you had a bit of ale in you. that was why you did not stiffen the way you should have. at least that was how you planned to explain away the feeling the next morning.

you only stiffened when hongjoong called for mingi a second time, pulling him from a conversation with yeosang. mingi sauntered over, entirely too sober, and hongjoong grinned, his hand flat on your back, unmoving, "ser mingi, take y/n to our chambers so they may rest."

you'd blinked at the demand. the dismissal.

mingi only bowed.

you glanced yeosang's way, and he waved to you, a toothy grin gracing his features, his cheeks pink from his ale. he raised his mug to you in mock salute. you'd looked away.

your gaze slid to san then. it often did, whenever he stayed at the red keep. and he would always react the same. san only ever returned your glances with blank, unreadable eyes. like he was a stranger, as you asked. you met seonghwa's gaze over their shoulders. over hongjoong's shoulder.

seonghwa hovered, separate from the rest of the group, where he merely observed the scene in front of him. something about him brought irritation to the pit of your stomach. he was fostered, yeosang had said, and you knew that in an ideal world, without the mad king's twisted intentions, that would have been your fate instead of the glorified hostage you had been delegated to.

fosterage and wardship were two sides of the same coin. however, where you were a hostage, never meant to return to sunspear no matter if you fell to your knees and begged for it, seonghwa could. fostered children were free to travel between both kingdoms as they pleased once they turned of age. a fostering was what you believed you’d been walking into at four-and-ten.

perhaps the bubbling tension in the pit of your stomach was something of a rage. or perhaps, when hongjoong glanced back over at seonghwa, and you caught a twinkle in his eyes and a familiar darkness, a familiar want, you knew the tension at the pit of your stomach was something else, something close to concern, close to understanding that hongjoong wanted creatures of the sun and the stars, and that his greed knew no bounds. he had a creature of the sun, and now he wanted a creature of the moon. he wanted, and he took, no matter the consequences, and he was not above ruining those very same creatures for it.

you met seonghwa's dark eyes once more, and he did not smile. he truly reminded you of the moon when it sat highest in the night sky. bright, silent, and so bitingly cold.

"go on," hongjoong said, pushing you in mingi's direction, his fingertips brushing down your back, a featherlight touch.

hongjoong did not have to say it for you to understand. celebrations were in order, and you were not invited. you were dismissed.

how dare he dismiss you? a voice that sounded eerily like hongjoong whispered at the back of your head. you did not entertain that voice, as you would not entertain hongjoong.

you'd only nodded, catching a flash of disappointment flit through hongjoong's expression. the ale brought a vindictive thought to you head. a vindictive, as he should be, as you'd taken your leave.

that night, in the empty hall leading to your chambers, something you could only describe as a beast reared its ugly head from the pits of your being. you'd come to a halt and you stared at mingi's retreating back. you called after him, your quiet voice echoing off the high walls, "can i ask a favor of you, mingi?"

your voice sounded emptier, different. you often looked in the mirror and wondered if you'd been reborn a new person when you'd wedded hongjoong. a tiny voice at the back of your head would always respond, not when you wedded hongjoong. when they left.

mingi's boots stopped thumping. his tall figure seemed to slump under your words, as if he could feel the weight of them. perhaps he could. perhaps your words were heavier than you gave them credit for. his armor no longer clinked.

he'd merely turned, and looked to you. his arms hung at his side, and his eyes bore into your skull.

"have you heard of 'the dornish man'?" you asked.

"do you mean the tavern at west end?"

you'd nodded.

"why?" mingi gave no warnings that the tavern sat nestled between brothels and seedy inns, nor that hongjoong would have his head if you two were caught beyond the walls of the red keep without his knowledge. he only wanted to know your reasons, the question hanging over you two. it clawed against stone walls. it rang high and true. over and over and over. it rang in your ears. it burrowed in your skin.

you should tell him the truth, but you could not. you would not. you thought of the bloodied man hongjoong had maimed during the tourney. all the others before that knight. the thoughtful kindness in seonghwa's eyes as he spoke to san, when he met your gaze as you were dismissed. the anxious bubble at the pit of your stomach as you looked on. as hongjoong's smile stretched across his face when he met seonghwa’s eyes. you thought of your brother holding you, his voice as firm as his touch, you are the spouse's heir.

so, instead you said: "i miss my home."

you looked up at him, softened your brows, and when you met mingi's gaze, he faltered. he faltered as you knew he would, and perhaps you were evil for the way you made your voice tremble and your brows furrow, but you would not allow yourself to falter. not tonight.

mingi's jaw clenched as he looked away. his armor clinked as he dragged a hand through his messy dark hair.

"i only need you to cover me. you do not need to join me," you said.

the silence after you spoke was tense. you did not move.

finally mingi said, "letting you go to the west end alone would only worry me more."

you'd blinked at him. you expected he would not give in, that he would not allow you to push him even just that bit. you certainly did not expect such an admission. all you could say was, "oh."

mingi sighed as he dragged a hand through his dark hair, "two hours. that is all we have."

you nodded, grinning, and mingi's lips twitched up into a small smile of his own.

~.~.~.~.~

the streets of king's landing was not as thrilling as you remembered it with hongjoong. you slipped through the crowds and sidestepped merchants, pickpockets, and drunks alike, following mingi so closely your nose brushed against his back whenever he came to a sudden stop - he removed his outer armor and stashed it in the closet hongjoong had the servants clear for you, donning a simple brown cloak. mingi looked younger without his kingsguard armor and cloak. your heart constricted at the thought. still, you found yourself moving forward.

you could have told him to turn around at any moment. that was what stayed with you most on that journey. you had plenty of time to turn back, to not drag a well-meaning mingi into your plans, to remain a shadow in the red keep for the rest of your days while hongjoong did whatever he wished.

but you did not, and you would not have, and as mingi looked back at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes always vigilant, there was a glint of knowing lingering there as his gaze met yours. he'd raised a brow, and you'd smiled, and mingi merely nodded to himself. you recognized the brothels and the alley as you drew closer, and when mingi opened the door to the tavern, you stepped up the creaking stairs with your heart lodged in your throat and your fingers curled around the fabric of your cloak, limbs filled with nervous energy.

you both stood at the threshold to the tavern, and not an eye strayed your way when you entered. the tavern was filled with the harsh stench of cigar smoke, a hint of grilled meat, and the usual staleness of old mead, and though your heart was lodged in your throat, you knew right then that you'd stepped into this new role and there was no backing out. not now.

mingi took a seat at one of the tables, and you gestured to the bar. he waved you on, but his eyes remained on your back. you leaned against the bar, and the barkeep was a familiar face. the owner hongjoong had pointed out earlier. his skin was like yours - no longer kissed by the sun as it once was, but still different from the rest of king’s landing’s patrons, still so obviously dornish - and his hair was like yunho's. his smile was a sweet, playful thing, like wooyoung. your heart leapt against your ribs.

he truly looked as dornish as they came, bright traditional robes and all.

the thought only pressed you closer to the bar, your fingers curling around the edge of the wooden table.

since the wedding, you'd returned to writing shallow letters to your brothers and parents through lord kang and his council. sometimes, you'd lie awake in hongjoong's too big bed and wonder if you'd died the morning your family boarded that ship and crossed the sea to sunspear without you.

half of your heart, half of your soul, half of your wit, half of your patience, half of you, it had had all gone with them, you knew, tucked under wooyoung's waving arm and yunho's melancholic smile. you laid on your side too often, watching hongjoong sit beside melting candlelight as he perused through documents, his back always to you, and you started to wonder who you'd become because of it. before the wedding, you would have never thought to push mingi's boundaries just because you saw a hint of care in his eyes. you would have never left the red keep in the dead of night. nearly two name days later - you were no longer sure of the exact day, if you were honest - you were doing everything you would never have done prior to this.

the barkeep met your gaze, and his eyes widened in what you hoped was recognition. he dipped his head in greeting as he made his way over to you, throwing a rag over his shoulder. he leaned forward and said, "welcome to the dornish man. how may i help you?”

his eyes bore into yours, his smile crooked. you swallowed your nerves and lifted your chin, meeting his gaze straight on with a resolve you had not mustered in quite some time. it filled you like a fire, like the fires from hongjoong's dragon or the greenfire that the mad king used to burn so many at the stake. you said, "what would you recommend?"

you tilted your head as you watched the man contemplate you. a small smile crept upon the man's lips as he seemed to decide something right then.

"hmm," his eyes twinkled, "may i recommend our sunspear special? it is a mango dish rumored to be the prince of dorne's heir's most coveted dish. he requests for it every evening, i've heard."

your sweetest summers were spent with yunho and wooyoung climbing mango trees. each of you would pick the reddest of mangoes, and you'd sit with your knees knocking against each other as you peeled them with yunho's blunt silver dagger, your fingers sticky with the sweet juices, the soft fruit melting on your tongue. the juices would often run down the corners of your mouth and you'd wipe it with the back of your hand and wooyoung would call you disgusting and you'd wipe your hands on him in response. yunho would laugh his belly-ache of a laugh.

every summer you'd ruin your clothes with ripened mangoes and blackened dirt. the three of you knew your mother would scold you for it later, but in the summer your mother stayed in her chambers or the gardens and all that remained in those moments was the sweltering heat and the sweet taste of mango on your tongue. it was always one of your favorite times of the year. wooyoung used to bounce on his toes as he rushed you and yunho to the mango groves. yunho often indulged wooyoung in his insistent shouts to race there. you'd watched them run on ahead, and you'd waved off the call from your mother to return before sunset as you walked after them.

the summer before you left for king's landing, when you were three-and-ten, you and yunho sat beneath the shade of one of the tallest mango trees, the soft sweet aroma of ripened mangoes filling the air. the two of you watched wooyoung climb along the branches of one of the trees, tugging himself up onto the tallest branch before he nestled between the trunk and its branch, his neck craned as he stared at the blue sky. the crimson color of the mango in his hands glinted brightly under the summer sun. one could mistake it for a jewel. yunho's voice drew your attention from wooyoung, his voice soft as the summer breeze. he asked, "do you think we will ever grow too old for this?"

"for what?" you'd blinked at yunho's melancholic tone, "picking mangoes?"

"no," yunho shook his head, gesturing vaguely around him, "for all of this, y/n."

a crease formed between his brows. you'd always hated the way worry contorted yunho's features into something unrecognizable. it never looked right on him, no matter how often you've seen such a look on him since he started his heir studies with father.

yunho sighed, "for each other."

you'd frowned, "we'll never be too old for each other, idiot."

you expected yunho to reprimand you or toss a mango pit at you. instead he only slumped further against the tree trunk behind him, his brows contorting into something dreadful.

"i am destined to be the heir, and woo will lead our armies, and you will..." he'd trailed off, frowning once more. his eyes welled with tears, and your eyes widened at the sight. wooyoung showed sadness, even you did, but yunho? not since he learned of his future calling. you watched as he blinked away his emotions, as he straightened, his back rigid. as he took the form of the pillar he believed he needed to be. it was a habit he'd picked up over the years, that wooyoung was beginning to pick up too. perhaps you were, as well.

"i'll be here, too," you scooted closer, bumping your shoulder against his, "i know my talents do not lie with pretty words or complicated strategies or with the sword like you and woo, but i'll find something useful to do so i can help you be a good prince to dorne. i have time to figure that out, and so do you. i understand you worry, but you do not have to, yun."

you bumped his shoulder harder this time, and he pouted at you, rubbing his shoulder. he did not say anything. he only stared down at his lap.

at the time, you had not understood what he'd known, and for years you did not. but you'd laid awake too often replaying and picking apart every memory you've ever had to not have realized that yunho knew you were going to be sent away. the guilt in his eyes was as clear as day now that you remembered, years later, and you hated your father for placing such a burden on him.

at the time, yunho always worried, and both you and woo teased him relentlessly for it. but you knew that sometimes it affected him more than he ever let on. sometimes, you sat with him and let him worry until his expression morphed into the face of creature you never recognized. you knew that was because he always came back. as you did. as woo would.

so, at the time, you'd reached for his hand and threaded your fingers through his worried fists, ignoring the picked skin of his fingernails, and you said, "most importantly, i'll be here every harvest season to climb the mango trees with you both. you're both awful at climbing anyway."

you'd gestured with your chin in wooyoung's direction, and you grinned as you watched wooyoung struggle to climb down the tree, mangoes spilling from the sling he'd looped around his neck, his curses echoing through the grove. you turned, nudging yunho, waiting for a giggle. it did not come. you remembered faltering at the sight of yunho blinking rapidly at the sight, his chin trembling the slightest bit. you only squeezed his hand.

he closed his eyes, and took a shuddering breath. he returned to the yunho you knew as he wiped at his cheeks with his free hand, and when he met your gaze again, he was all kind eyes, the sun shining off his dark brown, his smile amused.

he said, "perhaps climbing mango trees is your only true calling, y/n."

you'd scowled at him, and he threw back his head and laughed, and wooyoung plopped onto the ground in front of you both, covered in dirt, leaves caught in your hair, mangoes tumbling from his arms, ignoring your admonishments that he was bruising the fruits, and that day returned to the soft, hazy summer afternoon you often basked in.

you were three-and-ten when you'd spent your last summer picking mangoes with your brothers, despite your promise.

the memory made you stare at the barkeep, your heart pounding against your ribs. your voice was small to your ears as you asked, "a mango dish is the heir's favorite?"

the man dipped his head, "so i’ve heard. our mangoes are sweet as well. they are in season after all."

and in that moment, you allowed the hope in your chest to thrive. you allowed yourself to nod. to feel a sliver of hope for just a little while. it’s been years since you had.

the barkeep placed the dish in front of you, and the faint scent of mangoes reminded of you hazy summer afternoons and an unkept promise.

the barkeep said, "would you like me to place any special orders to dorne? it appears you, like me, miss our home quite a bit."

"do you deliver letters?" it was bold, but you were never one to beat around the bush.

the barkeep outright grins. he said, "woo said you had no patience for pretty words and riddles. i did not know your patience would run thin so quickly."

you'd blinked. "you know -"

"my name is yeonjun, your grace," the barkeep murmured, "and i only serve dorne. your letters will remain sealed among our shipment requests. lucky for us, the lords, lieges, and ladies of king's landing have taken a liking to dornish cuisine. i've made quite a number of shipments since i've opened."

you'd grinned, you could not help it. you knew you could not trust yeonjun yet, and you already knew you would need to confirm your brothers were receiving your letters before you truly let yourself believe in this opportunity. you knew you were not in the clear quite yet, but yeonjun's grin was an infectious thing. you'd grinned and grinned, and for the first time since you were a child alone in westeros, you had a channel of communication with your brothers that remained only yours.

~.~.~.~.~

"do you feel better?" mingi's voice was quiet in your empty chambers. he'd donned his armor in your chambers. the clinking of his armor as he tightened the plates had been the only sound between you both. you hadn't said a word since you left the tavern, since mingi picked at the mango dish with a small frown gracing his features, since he brought you back to the red keep.

you peered up at mingi. he towered over you, as he always did, his hair a mess of black, yet his brown eyes were unbearably tender. the guilt inside you reared its head once more, but you shoved it away. mingi knew you were asking him for favors that could get him in trouble. you were not holding a sword to his neck and demanding such things from him. you doubted you'd win in a sword fight anyway. you were not forcing him to help you, so you did not need to feel guilt.

you'd nodded. mingi's smile was the gentlest thing you'd seen in a while here in king's landing. it was the sea lapping against port, the way the horses in the stable would neigh softly as they tucked their heads against the stableboy's palm, and the way hongjoong rubbed his thumb along the crown of his dragon and the soft rumble that followed would remind you of a cat’s purr. mingi’s smile held all the little moments of gentleness you've witnessed here. it curled around your heart.

it was suffocating.

he placed a warm hand on your shoulder and he said, "i'm glad i could be of help, your grace."

you shouldn't encourage such gentility. yet, you knew you needed to solidify this moment. you needed this gentle mingi on your side. you needed his care for you to fuel him. so you pressed your hand over his. he stilled.

you said, "you always are of great help to me, mingi."

he blinked at you, before he turned away. his fingers curled into a fist, even as he bowed deeply before you, even as he hurried from your chambers. he left, and you refused to let your heart feel heavy.

but, you do not sleep.

~.~.~.~.~

that same night, hongjoong returned smelling of honeyed mead and sour ale, of sweat and smoke. of fire, really.

he stumbled through the room. you watched as he tore his shirt and tossed it into the darkness. he did this often when he returned after he believed you'd gone to bed. you'd always wondered why he did not light a lantern and stumbled in the dark.

he turned suddenly, as if he could feel your gaze on him, and when you met his gaze in the dark, you could only make out shadows.

he stood frozen, so you said, "just light a candle. it helps neither of us listening to you bumble about like an idiot."

there was a beat of silence. you could not make out his expression.

then he laughed. it's a soft thing that bounced off the high ceilings. you heard the strike of a match moments later.

the light of the candle on his desk was dim, and it took a moment for your eyes to readjust to the new lighting. the candlelight lit up his features. his eyes drooped, a heady drunken look to him that reminded you of the night of your wedding. you watched him stumble, until he reached for the ties of his pants. he paused, and your eyes flicked up to his, heat flooding your face when he grinned. he continued and you scowled, flipping over, only for his chuckle to echo in your chambers.

perhaps it was the remnants of the ale from the tourney, or the remnants of the adrenaline of sneaking out of the red keep and finding a channel of communication that was finally fully yours, or purely the inability to sleep, but you found yourself speaking quietly as you stared at the stone wall opposite you. "you had no right to dismiss me the way you did tonight.”

"hmm," hongjoong hummed, and it was closer now. you did not turn around, your fingers curling around the pillow at your head. "then why did you not stay?"

you frowned, shooting up to a sitting position. you turned to glare at him, and he remained where he had been earlier, though now he was fully dressed in his sleeping robes. "you wish for me to undermine you?"

he shrugged, as he stepped closer to the bed, twisting at the rings on his fingers, "undermine me? not quite. try to undermine me? perhaps."

"you're a right idiot," you'd shook your head, ignoring the way he stepped closer, the way he took a seat at the foot of the bed. "i am being serious, hongjoong."

"i am the picture of serious," hongjoong said, his words slurring the slightest bit.

"clearly," you'd sighed, said, "go to bed, hongjoong. you're drunk."

it was all too reminiscent of that night. despite that night being so long ago, it lived in your head, clear as day. you'd rolled your eyes at the way he raised his brows. you laid back down, turning your back to him. perhaps, that is a testament to how accustomed you've become to hongjoong's presence. you could turn your back on him without feeling like prey. you were unsure when that had started.

another moment passed before hongjoong's low voice drifted through your chambers, "if you did not wish to be dismissed, all you had to do was say something. if you do not like something, tell me."

you'd flipped back over, your fingers curled around your pillow as you looked down at hongjoong, who remained seated near your feet. "why?"

"you're my spouse, whether we like it or not," hongjoong muttered.

"'we'?" your voice sounded muffled to your own ears, "and here i thought it was just me who disliked this arrangement."

hongjoong tilted his head at you, his brows raised, questioning, waiting. oftentimes you wondered how he knew that you had more to say before you'd even said it.

you said, "i saw you falter during your match. you'd never been so distracted before."

hongjoong loved to say he would not be like his father, but you'd heard the rumors of his father's adultery. it went so far that the queen had to dismiss members of her own court, one of whom was rumored to be yeosang's mother. you watched as he scooted up the bed, as he reached out and pressed his fingertips to the burn scar on your arm, as he said, "i see the way you look at san, y/n. is it not the same?"

"is it?" you asked, frowning. san was hope to you, he was opportunities and a life lost. was park seonghwa the same to hongjoong? why did it concern you if he was?

hongjoong drew warm circles around your burn scar, each stroke softer than the last.

"be careful, y/n," he murmured, "you're beginning to sound rather jealous."

your stomach turned as he chuckled, the sound a low rumble in his chest.

"i do not care for your indiscretions," you scoffed. "i care that you dismissed me for another when our arrangement is meant to benefit us both.”

you did not want to revel in his statement. you did not want to admit to it. you did not want to delve into the thoughts that came after that green monster at the pit of your stomach, the wondering at hongjoong's greed, nor the moment of worry you felt for park seonghwa, despite everything. all hongjoong would ever know of was that you did not care. he would believe you did not care, and so would you. until the end of your days.

"are we supposed to benefit each other now?" hongjoong raised a brow.

"we could," you said, your eyes fixed on his. "we do not need to be friends, but -"

"we can be allies," hongjoong finished with a small, amused smile. you remembered the other night, when you'd had a conversation like this. he wanted you to beg that night. you'd refused, and you would refuse again. you would refuse until the day death came knocking at your door.

you'd nodded, "something like that."

"will you beg for it, then?"

you'd laughed, knowing he'd have the insolence to ask such a thing once more, but you found there was no venom bubbling at the pit of your stomach this time. perhaps it was his tone, the jest in it ringing between you both. you said, "not even if you held a knife to my throat."

"oh, wouldn't that be quite a lovely sight?" hongjoong murmured, and you were quite aware of the fingers on your skin, the proximity, the way your own fingers tightened around your pillow. the rough pad of hongjoong's thumb circled up to the crease of your elbow, "where do we go from here, then, y/n?"

you shrugged. where do you go from here? he was an unstoppable force, and you were an immoveable object. you would not be the one to concede. you refused.

but perhaps you could wield his power if he believed you on his side, then you could find other channels of communication you could call yours. you could have more than just yeonjun and his tavern. you could have more than just mingi to do your bidding.

"i need trust," you admitted, with a shuddering breath. it was never something you thought you'd tell him. not hongjoong. maybe it was easier to admit such a thing in the darkness, under melting candlelight, without the sun bearing witness to your admissions. "i need to be able to trust you."

can i ever trust him? you thought, and the answer was so wholly there. no, you could not. no, you were of dorne, and he was of king's landing, and he would not allow you to step foot in dorne again, let alone sunspear. you could not trust him. but, you slept with your back to him too many nights to count already. and you looked to him first when his father called you both to the courtyards for his executions. he was yours to benefit from. you could not trust him, and you would not, but you did not fear him as you once had. perhaps, that was a step in the right direction.

his finger stilled against the smooth skin of your burn scar, and he said, "do you want to know the first thing my father taught me?"

you'd blinked at the sudden question, watching hongjoong. he stared at your scar for a long moment, his fingers still. you shook your head.

"the word dracarys," hongjoong said, "it is from the old language. it is a command to our dragons to breathe fire. to burn everything. when i was a very small boy, my father called me to the pit. i never went there often, since there were so little dragons left and my father and his maesters wished to keep the dragons isolated. father insisted there was a matter he wished for me to resolve. at the time, i was excited that i was needed by my father. when i arrived there was a servant girl in the pit, no older than two-and-ten. just a few years older than me. she was pregnant, that much i could tell."

you watched as hongjoong's hand fell from your scar. his gaze was hardened as it met yours. he said, "the council was there that night as well. my father and his small council had her stand in the middle of the pit. she was dragged in the way you were, still in her sleep robes. i recognized her. even a small boy is privy to the red keep's rumors, y/n. my father bedded too many to count, and oftentimes it went ignored. this girl would not have been ignored. so, my father told me to say the word he taught me, and… and i did."

your nails dug into your palms as you laid there, your gaze fixed on hongjoong. "why are you telling me this?"

"isn't that where trust starts? from stories of the moments that made us who we are?"

"yes," you said, "i think it should."

hongjoong paused. you did not speak further. he expected a story from you. he expected something. perhaps even sympathy. you would not concede. you could only wonder for the poor servant girl, wonder if hongjoong would in fact burn a little girl alive without his father’s directions. you wondered often who he'd broken over the years, and as you laid in his bed you wondered if he would burden you with all he has ruined one day, in the name of trust.

finally, hongjoong nodded as he pushed himself off the bed. he reached over, and brushed hair from your forehead. his fingers lingered. you did not push his touch away. you only watched him as he did so. his dark, tired eyes flickered over yours as he murmured, voice sweet as honey, but laced with an edge that always lived in hongjoong no matter what, "we'll take it slow, then."

you watched as he blew out the candle and made his way to his bed.

~.~.~.~.~

the letter yeonjun returned to you was unsealed, untampered, and real. you knew this because of yunho's response, a simple perhaps climbing mango trees is not your only talent, little sibling, and his unbroken wax seal. it was him. it was untouched, and it was him, and you could not contain your excitement.

mingi had handed you the letter in the library, and after you'd brushed your fingers along the seal - the symbol of your house, a sun with a spear through it - and read yunho's words, fingers tracing over his inked writing, you'd tossed your arms around mingi, drawing him into a tight embrace.

mingi had stiffened in surprise, though he'd steadied you by the waist, his armor cold under your touch.

you caught yourself too late, stepping away with hurried apologies, embarrassed. mingi shook his head, his cheeks reddening, "it is all right, your grace."

it became a routine of sorts, to write your letters, and have mingi escort you to yeonjun's tavern. sometimes, he'd take the letters on his own. you would press a hand to his arm, or the top of his hand, and you'd thank him. mingi would hide his blush when you did. you'd feel awful for it, but the letters were enough to quell that guilt. you'd do it over and over again, despite the guilt.

yeonjun introduced you to the owner of the brothel across the street, a slight, beautiful woman with an air of regality to her that many speculated the origins of. she went by the name irene. you called the doe-eyed children she sent all about king's landing as her eyes and ears her little birds. she smiled at the phrase, but she smiled wider at the gold you promised her in payment. a contract, you’d both called it.

mingi did not trust her. you trusted her less than you trusted hongjoong, yet mingi seemed to think otherwise. still, despite his clear disapproval, mingi said nothing to you. he gave you irene's correspondence without question, and he gave her the gold you'd written off hongjoong's maester's ledger without batting an eye. mingi would ruin everything he had for you, that much you could tell.

but you did not stop on your new path.

instead, you stopped sleeping through the night.

~.~.~.~.~

the mountain that rides. lord kang's mad dog. most call him the mountain.

lady irene's words remained with you long after you'd read them, long after you'd tossed the letter into the library fireplace and watched it turn to blackened ash.

you’d gone about your day mulling over her words. now, you stood under the shade of a peculiarly bent tree with yellow blooms as bright as the gold of house kang's banners. the queen loved her flowers and trees, and this one in particular grew well even as executions took place beneath her blooms more often than not.

today, the tree oversaw outdoor festivities. the mad king was quite generous with his death sentences, but he was even more generous with his calls for celebration. spring was in full bloom, flowers sprouting throughout the kingdom, and that demanded for a spring festival.

you contemplated only for a moment, before you asked, "who is the mountain?"

perhaps, you should have learned to make your words prettier. you certainly partook in the kinds of games that required pretty words these days, yet you could care less when it came to having a sweet or sharp tongue.

yeosang stiffened beside you. you took a sip of wine from your cup as you watched him unclench his jaw, the taste sickly sweet on your tongue.

you both watched on as lord kang clapped a hand over hongjoong's shoulder, tilting his head, his smile matching yeosang’s as he spoke to hongjoong. hongjoong's stiff smile did not budge. the mad king was not here, as always, but his maester had gave quite a moving speech in his place, of westeros's greatest king and the dragons riding free, thriving, before food and drinks were announced shortly after. the mad king's presence would not be missed once the wine started flowing anyway. you took note when you'd entered that mingi, and a few of the other kingsguard, were not in attendance. you wondered often what the king did instead of attending his celebrations. you wondered often of the queen's fate. you had not seen her since your wedding. you had never had the chance to bond with her, but you worried for her. it was the same worry you felt in your chest when you first saw hongjoong lay eyes on park seonghwa. when hongjoong told you of the little girl he'd burned to ashes for his father.

"hmm," yeosang hummed after he caught his bearings, "dare i ask how you know of him?"

"you could dare," you said, tearing your eyes from hongjoong to meet yeosang's gaze. "clearly you know of him."

yeosang's gaze narrowed, but his smile was amused as always. "the mountain is father's new addition to the kingsguard."

his words were biting, but they matched what irene had informed you. at least she could be trusted, for now.

"i figured as much," you said, downing your cup of wine.

"you'd do well to stay away from him," yeosang's voice was low, but it brought you pause. you looked over your shoulder at him, watching his concerned gaze flicker over your face. kang yeosang and concerned did not quite match.

you raised a brow at him, amused, "now why is that?"

"do you think they call him 'the mountain' for fun?" yeosang sneered.

you rolled your eyes at yeosang's disparaging tone. he did not grin. in fact, the twinkle in his eyes was undetectable. he shook his head at you.

he said, "i do not know how you came upon such information, but, for your sake, for all our sakes, i pray you've guaranteed that thread cannot be traced back to you."

his warning left a bad taste on your tongue, exacerbated by the lingering taste of wine. you muttered, "i do not leave loose threads. i am not an idiot."

"i like to think you are not," yeosang said, "but it would do you well for you if the small council continued to believe that you were."

you'd frowned at him. even after establishing contact with yeonjun, you'd continued sending letters to your family through lord kang, if only to not raise suspicion. you assumed they’d continue underestimating your involvement, but yeosang's words implied that something had changed.

"do they have reason to believe i am, in fact, not an idiot?"

yeosang plucked a cup of wine from a passing servant, and placed it in your limp hands. his gaze flickered ahead, and you followed it. to lord kang. to the man dressed in kingsguard armor and a kingsguard cloak.

he towered over everyone, a beast of a man that had all the mad king's guests giving the man a wide berth. hongjoong was the only one who looked the man in the eye, his shoulders back and his chin held high, despite how far back hongjoong had to tilt his head to look up at the newly appointed knight. the knight's predatory expression, his unwavering eyes, and the way he only responded to lord kang’s instructions, left a chill beneath your bones, an acute sense of fear curling right down your spine. you knew right then that this man was the mountain - an apt name for a man like that - and that you did not want to be alone with him, ever.

“oh, sweet thing,” yeosang's hand brushed your elbow, drawing your attention to him. yeosang shook his head, his words ominous, "not yet.”

~.~.~.~.~

king's landing sustained itself off gold and whispers. secrets were not safe at court, and nothing ever went unseen. you should have known such a thing the moment lady irene introduced you to her little birds, some of whom were kitchen boys and errand girls and stablehands you'd seen too often in the red keep. she had eyes and ears in every nook and cranny. what was stopping the other lords, ladies, and lieges from doing the same?

you'd known the whispers well since you were four-and-ten. the people of king's landing did not view dorne kindly. even now, at something-and-twenty, they were a constant nuisance, trailing after you with terrible whispers wherever you went.

the rumors were particularly terrible after the king started preparations for your wedding to hongjoong. you and san had hardly kept your courting a secret, and you weren't the only one blindsided by the sudden arrangement to hongjoong. the whispers were harsh.

you'd tuned them out, mostly, but they still existed.

your refusal to give hongjoong your favor during tourneys was seen in good fun at first, but the whispers turned accusing very quickly. you were a sly fox, you'd heard from one of the ladies. prince hongjoong was kind enough, he was prince kim hongjoong, of course, so what was wrong with you to deny him?

you were seen downing too many cups of wine at king kim's spring festival. you were too familiar with the kingsguard, lord kang’s son.

the servants saw you leaving the library late in the evenings. you laughed too hard at one of the kingsguard's quips, lord song’s bastard son. you never laughed around prince hongjoong, the whispered accused.

prince hongjoong kissed the hand of lady jihyo of hightower at the tourney. surely, you were not working hard enough to keep his attention from others. what was wrong with you?

prince hongjoong left the celebrations too late. no one who loves his spouse would spend so long drinking ale so early in marriage. surely, you had said something to keep him away. you were not enough, you'd done something wrong, you were a fox, conniving, ungrateful, a who-

hongjoong raised a glass.

"a toast," he said, "to my father. may he remain healthy and strong. may he rule for many, many years to come. long live the dragons, long live king kim."

it would have amused you to no end, to attend the nameday celebration for a king who wasn’t even there, if the whispers were not so loud today, and the mood was not so damp.

the response to hongjoong's toast was half-hearted at best.

the king had certainly celebrated his nameday well; he'd beheaded half his upper ranked army officers the day before and hung their heads from the gates of king's landing. he’d done it based off suspicion of mutiny and a the beginnings of rebellion. king's landing had been quiet since then, eerily so. even the commonfolk could sense the tension.

the court bard waved his hand in response, and the sound of a fiddle filled the room, a jaunty tune that seemed to liven up the crowd better than the food and drink had. some took to the dance floor, prompting others to join.

you watched from your seat at the royal table above the festivities as members of the court shuffled to the dance floor, as wine flowed freely, and bouts of laughter echoed off the high ceilings. this was not the liveliest of dances you’ve attended, but it was enough for now.

some time after too many cups of wine, and a small brawl that had broken out on the floor - ser yuta and ser johnny had separated them before it could escalate into anything further - after the bard crooned as he swayed with his fiddle, the harpist strumming an angelic melody, after some ladies, lieges, and lords began shuffling out from the room and back to their beds, your septa beckoned to you.

you were too drunk, too, and you found that it was becoming a common occurrence for you. you slept better when you drank too much.

mingi helped you down the steps, and you'd grinned at him as he bowed exaggeratedly. you clutched his fingers.

the whispers were always whispers. though they were loud, they were never said to your face.

until that night.

"whore." the word was spat in your direction.

you'd known of that word since you were very little, and when news spread that you would not wed san, but rather hongjoong whore was thrown around more than your name. the hastiness of the arrangement was what made the court gossip.

you used to ignore it. you used to worry for how san would feel. or worse, how your mother would react if it ever reached her ears. your brothers. your father. you used to swallow your rage and let the whispers slip off your skin, pretending your skin was armor and you were left untouched.

mingi's hand went to the hilt of his sword, and his deep voice held an undercurrent of fury as he said, "how dare you speak to their grace in such a manner?"

but, by the gods, your skin was no armor, and you were everything but untouched. you were drowning in your rage and the whispers.

and the rage? the rage inside of you was a churning fire that clawed it's way out of you from the pit of your stomach. it burned right through you.

lord lim was an older man, a distant cousin to the kangs, and his family had deep roots in the royal army. one of the ten ranking officers who had been beheaded and put on display at the gates had been his nephew. his house fostered seonghwa, and hosted san and jongho when they were young boys. you knew this because you'd seen the note regarding family relations and condolences on hongjoong's desk.

the festivities continued all around you. drunk laughter, dancing, shouting, the bard cooing, drumbeats loud, rhythmic, the crooning of the harp and the fiddle. it all rang in your ears. the festivities continued, but your head was pounding.

lord lim laughed. his eyes were full of mirth. "my nephew is dead because the king believed he was plotting against the crown. the only person in this damned court who would plot against the king is you."

lord lim jabbed a finger in your direction. you should have left. you should have excused his treasonous words for grief-stricken rage fueled by drink, and excused yourself. you should have.

but you turned to him, and you said, "nothing you say is going to bring back your nephew. he is dead, and that is no fault of mine."

lord lim advanced on you, then, and fury and grief contorted his features into something ugly and monstrous. you felt the urge to laugh. his expression matched the feeling at the pit of your stomach. his displaced anger made you want to scream.

when he stepped towards you, mingi stepped between you both, his elbow braced as mingi shoved lord lim back. lord lim did not budge, his eyes fixed on you.

he hissed, "with the amount of times you’ve been passed around the red keep, you are no better than a common whore. you should have been the one hanging from the gates."

you opened your mouth, the rage at your stomach curling into your chest. you wanted to scream. wanted to take his displaced, irrational anger and toss it back at him. burn him alive with it. tear his mouth from his face with your bare hands. but you knew that his words only reiterated what the court whispered behind your back. you did not know what the public, the commonfolk, thought of you, but you knew the other nobles did not think highly of you. you did not know it was to that extent, and you never thought they'd say it out loud, but perhaps there was a first for everything.

only then did you realize how quiet it had gotten.

only then did you feel a hand on your back, heavy and warm, and a voice sharp as the edge of a sword.

“what did you say?”

lord lim spat, “you heard me.”

hongjoong shook his head, "guards, bring lord lim to the courtyard."

his words rang high and loud.

you turned, and hongjoong's gaze met yours. it was hard, angry, and full of fire. it was the same rage in your stomach, the same rage in lord lim's expression, but there was no grief there. he was merely cold fury.

lord lim protested as mingi grabbed lord lim's arms and yanked them behind his back, the other kingsguard drawing their swords. his shouts rang throughout the quiet room.

hongjoong turned to you, and he said, "do you wish to retire to your chambers, or do you wish to join me?"

you should have gone to bed.

your gaze followed mingi as he dragged a shouting, squirming lord lim behind him, the kingsguard following behind him.

you said, "i will join you."

despite the cold fury, a small smile tugged at the corner of hongjoong's lips.

the queen's yellow flowers were at their brightest, even under the moonlight.

hongjoong called for his dragon, and after a long moment, the wind picked up all around you. you looked up and his black dragon circled the courtyard as it prepared to land, it’s wings flapping. mingi tied lord lim to the very same blackened post his father tied so many others to before he used his green fire or his own dragon to execute them.

despite how quiet it was, the guests that were left lingered at the threshold to the courtyard. no one said a word, watching on in dread and anticipation. the distance made you feel strange. watched. revered. powerful. perhaps, simply feared.

hongjoong's dragon landed before you both, your robes whipping all around you. hongjoong's hair fluttered, his eyes glittering under the moonlight as he stared up at his dragon. up close, his dragon's black scales shone beneath moonlight, it's large, watchful eyes unblinking. the ground shook as it landed, and the crowd by the entrance to the courtyard stumbled back further into the fortress. further from you.

hongjoong stroked his dragon’s head, and it hummed in response.

hongjoong stalked closer then, to lord lim tied to the post, waving away his guards. lord lim looked small, kneeling in the middle of the courtyard the way he did. hongjoong said, "your words are treason of the highest order, lord lim."

"you cannot do this. you are not the king. you have no right!”

"but i am a kim, and i have a dragon.” hongjoong's voice, though low, shook with anger. "it's a shame you could not hold your tongue around my spouse, lord kim. now we shall decide whether you lose a limb or your life."

he looked over his shoulder at you, and he raised a brow at you.

you should have called him off. lord lim's voice broke with his cry.

yet, the rage in your stomach turned to something that resembled glee, and you kept your mouth shut. you did not shake your head, and that was permission enough.

hongjoong's dark eyes flickered over your face, his eyes softening for just a moment. then he turned back to lord lim, and he grinned, "it appears you will be reunited with your dear nephew after all.”

lord lim screamed and screamed.

his screams were cut off by a low, “dracarys."

his dragon's fire was so hot, you stumbled away, heat rolling off it in waves. the screams were loud. the loudest sounds in king's landing since the mad king executed those officers.

they rang and rang, like the crooning of the bard or the twangs of the harp and fiddle. they filled the air, much like the festivities had, but this time you did not have a headache.

your gaze flicked to hongjoong, even as he turned to you, his grin glorious, his silver hair fluttering in the breeze. his dragon left as quickly as it came, and hongjoong laughed as he watched it go.

the smell of burning flesh lingered in the air. the crowd was quiet, so so quiet.

your stomach flipped as hongjoong gestured back to the hall and said, "come now. there is more drink and food to be had."

you were not as disgusted by hongjoong as you thought you'd be.

as you should be.

and that realization would remain with you for the rest of your life.

~.~.~.~.~

"hongjoong?"

your voice drifted between you both in your dim chambers. you'd returned to your chambers shortly after the bard began to sing again. the crowd had already trickled away, and mingi had disappeared. when you stepped through the crowd of nobles, they parted like the sea, the fear in their eyes feeding the fire that always burned at the pit of your stomach. they parted for you as if they could sense the fire in you, and they were afraid they'd burn at the smallest of touches.

your stomach turned at the thought.

you'd hurried to your chambers, then, the kingsguard meant to escort you hurrying to keep up, and readied yourself for bed, scrubbing your skin to rid yourself of the scent of dragonfire and burnt flesh until your skin stung.

you laid in your bed, ceiling too far away, and the linens felt rough against your scrubbed skin.

hongjoong entered the chambers shortly after, and you listened to him quietly ready himself for bed, as if did not wish to wake you. he sat down at his desk and lit a candle. the warm glow of the candle filled the otherwise dark room. his back was to you, the candlelight casting a long shadow over your side of the chambers.

this was often the routine with you two. neither of you could sleep, you noticed, and hongjoong spent many nights bent over his desk, his back turned to you. you'd imagined piercing a knife through his turned back too many times. you wondered if he ever worried you would do such a thing. you spent many sleepless nights watching him work. neither of you ever said a thing. perhaps, it was an unspoken rule between you both. you knew for certain he could tell you were watching him. his back was never relaxed.

that night, you broke the silence with his name.

hongjoong froze, the sound of his pen scratching stilling. then it returned, as if the moment never happened. his voice was low, "i did not do it for you."

you'd blinked at the declaration, surprised. hongjoong continued to work, even as he spoke. his voice held a soft edge, a seething tone you knew was rage. you knew rage well, you've come to learn. "you are a kim through our vows. disrespecting you is treason."

"you did not have to kill him."

"my father would have killed him within a fortnight," hongjoong muttered. then he turned in his seat, his loose sleep shirt slipping as he turned, exposing skin and the sharp dip of his collarbone. he gripped the back of his wooden chair, the candlelight casting dark shadows and an orange glow over his features, hiding his expression. "did you want me to spare him?"

you laid on your side as you contemplated his question. his gaze flickered down your form as he waited for your response. lord kim’s words brought you fury.

so, you shook your head in response.

the corner of his lips tipped upwards at your admission, his fingers gripping the back of his chair. strands of silver hair fell into hongjoong's eyes, and he used his other hand to push it back as he said, voice barely a whisper, "good."

you tucked your hands underneath your pillow, if only to have something to do under his intense, almost knowing gaze. you should have been disgusted by the intimacy in this moment, but you found yourself enraptured by the softness in his voice, your eyes flickering over his turned figure. you found yourself voluntarily speaking to him. the anger you always felt for him was a muted thing. worst of all, you were left wondering why the guilt wasn't much much worse.

it should have been.

yet, your mouth was loose.

"i am terrified of spiders. the ones in dorne were bigger than my hands," you said, your voice barely louder than a whisper, "and wooyoung or yunho always killed them for me. when i was very little, i used to cry when they killed them. i never wanted them to die, even though i feared them."

hongjoong's feathery whisper caressed you like a finger against your cheek, "when did you stop crying when they killed those spiders?"

"i don't know."

a pause.

"will you cry tonight?"

it was such a simple question, but the tone he held, sincere and almost reverent, made your heart skip a beat.

you stared at hongjoong, a lump growing in your throat.

he broke away from your gaze first, his eyes flickering to his lap. when he met your gaze once more, he said, so quietly, so gently, you wondered if this was the same man you'd known since you were four-and-ten. he said, "you can, you know. if you'd like. i will not tease you for it."

it was strange to hear such kindness from kim hongjoong, but this was not the first time. perhaps between all his horrid decisions he was capable of being kind.

for a moment, you wondered if you could be vulnerable in such a way with him. if you could shed tears in front of him.

you shook your head quickly, cheeks hot, "i won't."

the thought of crying in front of him embarrassed you, more than anything.

he'd given you a brisk nod.

the silence grew awkward then, charged with an emotion you could not quite place. so you said, "good night, then."

you turned your back to him, staring at the wall instead.

hongjoong said, "good night, y/n."

he did not blow out his candle, his shadow dancing against the wall.

you did not sleep.

~.~.~.~.~

father is very sick, yunho wrote to you. i am scared worried, y/n.

~.~.~.~.~

you watched the letter wither in the fireplace, the edges of parchment curling before it turned to blackened ash.

you turned away, then, when the door to the library opened and the library's maester stepped through. he was not as old as most maesters, maester robes thrown haphazardly over his shoulders. he was not highly ranked, not like the grand maester who was elected by the conclave to serve the iron throne and the red keep and sat on the small council, but he watched over the grand library. judging from all the different metals adorning the chain around his neck, he was well-versed in many areas of study. the lead and black iron chains were what interested you months ago. they indicated the study of poison and black iron. maesters were not supposed to hold political allegiances, as servants to the realm.

yet, here maester haechan stood, with his sunkissed skin and perpetual wary expression.

you spent too much time in the library. you were bound to walk into something of substance. in fact, the other night you'd walked in on maester haechan in a uncompromising position with one of the king’s servants. in the past, you would have left immediately, but that night you'd cleared your throat. you'd made yourself known. the two men jumped off each other, not once meeting your eyes.

it took months to wear maester haechan down. you flipped through books, maester haechan glancing sideways at you when he thought you were not looking, and mentioned the moment offhandedly. you held your knowledge over him, knowing he would snap and come to you one day. you left a comment here of didn't all maesters take an oath of celibacy? and another there of how would the citadel react if they heard of such a transgression? and finally a pointed what about the grand maester? what would he think? before maester haechan slammed a book down in front of you, the chains around his neck rattling, and he asked, "what do you want from me?"

you'd merely shrugged. you made him stew in his anxiety.

tonight, he finally stood before you, and you asked, "what do you know of essence of nightshade?"

"it is meant to calm one's frayed nerves so they may sleep," maester haechan raised a brow, "but a high dosage can be fatal. and undetectable."

you hummed. you'd thought so, but the confirmation eased you.

"it seems you were already aware of that," his voice was quiet.

"i read about it and wanted confirmation. i have trouble sleeping at night and i've been told it is helpful," you said, with a shrug.

he eyed you skeptically, eyes too knowing, "is it only for you?"

no. you thought of hongjoong. you thought of how easily he'd burned a man alive, as he was taught when he was a boy. you thought of the way you'd felt drawn to the action, of the sheer amount of violence he was willing to display to protect your name. your father would not start a war for you, yet hongjoong would kill a man? the thought made your heart curl, and that was precisely why you needed this. thoughts like that needed to be cut off easily. put into a deep, dreamless, fatal sleep. you did not need to think of hongjoong in such a way. whether that was you who ended up that way, or hongjoong, it did not matter.

you needed this.

"of course, it is," you said.

the maester did not believe you, but he still nodded.

"and you do not wish for me to mention this elsewhere, i assume?"

"i should hope so. unless you want the red keep and the citadel to know you are an oathbreaker, maester haechan."

haechan poorly suppressed his grimace, "your request will be easy enough, your grace."

“and if i have future requests?”

haechan sighed, “i will do as you bid.”

~.~.~.~.~

mingi stood at your shoulder, while you knelt in front of a little girl in ragged scraps of clothing, her sunken eyes piercing as she covered her mouth and brought her lips to your ears.

"choi jongho has held three meetings in lady irene's brothels thus far. several nobles have been in attendance. the lims, the lees, the yuns."

"does lady irene know what for?"

the little girl shook her head.

you could not understand what for. you knew choi jongho was an honorable man, if san were to be believed, though rumor had it the man loved his drink more than he should have. however, even the most honorable ended up in brothels. it was an unspoken norm among nobles. you could not understand why jongho would host other nobles in a brothel. surely, there was more to it.

you'd nodded as you fished out a couple gold coins from your pockets and tucked it into her limp hands, "thank you, little bird."

the little girl only nodded before she stepped into the crowded street and disappeared.

you'd stood, readjusting your hood, and you said, "do you want something to eat?"

mingi shook his head. his eyes were still on the little girl, a distant look.

"then let us head back," you said, "hongjoong should be back soon."

your beloved spends quite a lot of time in my brothels, irene had told you once. you thought about that often, when you'd lay sleepless in your bed, and hongjoong would stumble in to your chambers drunk or smelling of smoke. he whispered stories of his childhood. amusing stories of his mother, mischief yeosang, hongjoong, mingi, jongho, and san had gotten up to, inconsequential things. sometimes, you shared stories too. of climbing mango trees. of hidden courtyards to bask in sunlight. it only ever happened in the dead of night, awash in darkness. when irene told you of her discovery, the ugly beast at the pit of your being reared it’s head once more.

you'd walked in silence, even as mingi gestured for you to lead the way up the winding secret passages you both frequented often.

right before you'd exited the passage mingi called your name.

you'd paused, and he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. his eyes were conflicted as he said, "you should end this."

"end what?" you'd taken your hand off the exit, and you both stood facing each other behind the tapestries. the corridors were narrow enough, but as mingi ascended the final step and towered over you, his armor clinking softly, you realized just how cramped the hidden corridor was.

"end all of this," mingi gestured around him, gestured at you, your clothes, behind him. "i speak to you not as a knight, or as your subordinate, but as your friend. this will all end in ruin, y/n. this is a dangerous game you are playing."

you'd frowned, "i am playing no games."

you were, but mingi did not need to know that. yeonjun, maester haechan, and lady irene could know you were, but for an inexplicable reason, you could not bear for mingi to find out that you were using him in any way. that you left lingering touches on purpose. that you looked up at him until he blushed for another reason. that you were playing a game, and he was one of the pieces you kept close.

mingi blinked at you, his brows furrowing.

you stepped closer to him. he watched your movement like you were opposite him in battle, and he was assessing your next move.

"i miss my family. ever since i came to king's landing, lord kang has opened all my letters. they cannot speak to me candidly in fear of saying something the king or small council will fault me for, mingi," you sighed. "i'm only doing this with yeonjun and the brothel so that i can keep in touch with my family, and keep myself safe. you have to understand that."

"but it is dangerous," mingi muttered, shoulders slumping. "what will become of you if you are found out?"

"i won't be found out," you said, tone adamant. you reached up then, and placed a hand on mingi's cheek. his eyes shot up to meet yours as you said, voice low, "and if i am caught, they will not blame you. i will not allow it."

he frowned. he relaxed into your touch, and your heart clenched as if he had reached into your chest and wrapped his fingers around it. he trusted you so much, despite everything. he had no reason not to. at least a reason that he knew of.

"i worried you'd say as much," he shook his head, "i cannot live with myself if you take all the blame."

you'd laughed, "it appears we've arrived at an impasse then."

a small smile tugged at mingi's lips, "it appears so."

"then we'll have to make sure that neither of us has to take the blame. we have to be extra cautious." you pat his warm cheek once before stepping back.

mingi broke eye contact, looking away as he dragged a hand through his hair. he bit back his growing smile, eyes serious, "more than that."

you agreed, "more than that."

mingi softened as he nodded, and the vice-like grip around your heart tightened once more.

~.~.~.~.~

"my favorite color is yellow," hongjoong said. he sat cross-legged on his chair, his arms folded over the top, his chin resting there. his billowy sleep shirt was thin, the candlelight illuminating the shape of him through the shirt. with his back to his table and his candle, his face was full of shadows, unreadable.

"like the flowers on your mother's tree in the courtyard?" you asked, in response. you lay on your side once more, your knees drawn close to your chest.

hongjoong was silent for a long moment.

you said, "you do not have to talk about her."

his mother was a sore subject. you hadn't heard from her since your wedding, but hongjoong stopped hearing from her shortly after. you often wondered what had become of her. you wondered if your fate would mirror hers one day.

"your mother reminded me of her," hongjoong said. “especially the way you two interacted.”

"do you resent your mother as well, then?" you'd never admitted that aloud.

hongjoong laughed, but it held no amusement. "sometimes, i do. other times, i only pity her. she deals most with my father, after all."

it was quiet once more, before you asked, "would you kill him?"

a pause.

"i don't know," hongjoong sighed, though there was a sharp edge to his voice, "if you were in my place, would you kill your father?"

"yes," you said, without hesitation. you thought of the mad king, with his sharp, long nails and the horrible things he's said to you and the way he looked at you as if you were scum beneath his feet. you grit your teeth, "i would kill him."

"so easily?"

"he'd deserve it."

you could barely see his expression under the shadows, but the way he tilted his head as he looked at you, the glint of a grin on his face, it brought chills down your spine. it was...fascinating.

"oh, how i wish you were in my place then," hongjoong murmured.

the conversation died away after that.

~.~.~.~.~

16,784. that is where our army's numbers currently stand, wooyoung wrote. it is our army, but most importantly it is yours, y/n. if you ever require it.

~.~.~.~.~

"where is he?"

you sat alone in the dining hall. at least you were alone until yeosang and mingi joined you, their armors clinking and their cloaks fluttering behind them. the king and queen always took dinners in their chambers. hongjoong would often join you for dinner, and surprisingly your conversations had become quite light, aside from a few pointed jabs from you both. neither of you could shake the habit, it seemed.

tonight, you had been alone.

until your escorts joined you.

yeosang gave you a lopsided grin as he brought his wine cup in mock salute, "is our company not enough, your grace?"

mingi frowned at yeosang's tone.

the chois were in the red keep - just to visit, they said, though you knew of the brothel visits - and so was park seonghwa. you'd heard the servants discuss sending dinner to the choi's guest chambers, as they wished to rest after a long afternoon of hunting with hongjoong. you heard nothing regarding park seonghwa.

you stared at your own wine cup for a long moment. the servants had left the hall after they'd served the food. finally, you lifted your gaze to mingi and yeosang, and you said, "he's with seonghwa isn't he?"

you meant to sound nonchalant, but your voice was too small, even to your own ears. since when did you care about such things?

yeosang leaned back in his chair, wine cup still in his hand, and he said, "does it matter?"

mingi's frown deepened.

you'd glared at yeosang, "hongjoong's dalliances ruin my reputation. that matters."

"at the end of the day, you are still the heir's spouse, and he returns to your bed," yeosang said, with a shrug. "nothing else matters."

you rolled your eyes, venom dripping from your tone, "you think so?"

"i know so," yeosang snapped back, his eyes narrowing. "if you make a problem of it, then you will become the problem. do you not understand that?"

"what the hell does that mean?"

"do you think the queen disappeared because she wanted to?"

mingi shook his head, "yeosang, stop."

"no," you glared at mingi, "yeosang, continue."

mingi pressed his mouth into a thin line.

yeosang looked genuinely sorry when he glanced mingi's way.

you pressed your hand to his elbow, his armor cold to your touch, "what are you implying, ser yeosang?"

yeosang glanced down at your touch, and though he could not feel your touch, he still shook your hand from his elbow. he downed his drink, his expression stony. his cold features turned colder as the moments slipped by. there was no kang amusement, no mischief, and it brought a chill down your spine.

worst of all, it worried you.

mingi cleared his throat, and you turned to him. his usually expressive brown eyes held a vacancy in them that made the perpetual guilt-ridden grip mingi had over your heart grow in side.

mingi said, "though the kingsguard acts as the queen's guards, y/n, we do not answer to the queen. we do not...owe the king's spouse anything. we answer to no one but the king," mingi turned his gaze to the ceiling briefly, as if he were lamenting the gods. you did not know mingi's beliefs surrounding the gods, nor how devout he may or may not be, but the sight of him take a deep, harrowing breath burrowed beneath your skin. it was a sight meant to haunt you. mingi certainly appeared haunted, his eyes returning to you, his hands curled into fists on the table. "we've heard many things over the years stationed outside her door. the king is...he is our priority. she made a problem out of the king's adultery, and the king dealt with her as he saw fit. now she remains in her chambers for a reason. if you've seen her...heard how she...if you knew...she's..."

mingi stuttered over his words, his jaw clenched, and his eyes glossed with tears. you'd never seen him cry. not once. it was not something you thought he was capable of, logical, kind, and watchful mingi, with walls as high as yours. if he was a terrible person, perhaps you would not feel so much guilt for the way you pushed his boundaries.

you hoped the mad king would not hurt the queen. perhaps it was wishful thinking, to think the man who would have married you off to a dead babe to spite your father had limitations. but you were wrong. the king had no limits, no one to stop them, not even the kingsguard. whatever the king had done to the queen, that left her bedridden, that seemed to leave devastation in mingi and yeosang even now, whatever it was should have terrified you. mingi's pain and your subsequent terror should have been the final reason to end your indiscretions.

to learn to resign yourself to your fate. to become the person you knew choi san and your brothers and your parents would pity. the person the seven kingdoms would one day sing pitiful songs of. the little bird trapped in their cage, left to a tragic fate, left to dissolve into the shadows, ruined, ruined, ruined.

the person you were before you'd wedded hongjoong would have ended everything. they would have stopped fighting for the sake of survival.

however, you could not help but imagine hongjoong ascending the throne one day, and continuing his father's legacy. you could very well face the same fate as the queen. no one would protect you if you did.

but that was not new. you'd known this since the moment you stepped foot on the shores of king's landing at four-and-ten. the part of you that dreamt of being rescued, of knights like the many you'd bestowed favors upon at tourneys, of your parents or your brothers, was merely the dreams of a child. you knew damn well no one in king's landing would protect you.

so why should you stop fighting? why should you stop? because of a little bit of guilt? because of a fate like the queen's?

besides the person you were before you wedded hongjoong was dead and gone when your family left a second time.

you would never step foot in sunspear again. you'd live in king's landing longer than you ever did in dorne. what did you have to lose anymore?

still, you said, "do you think hongjoong is capable of the same?"

mingi shook his head quickly. yeosang did not say anything.

"he is your friend," you frowned, frustration clawing it's way up your throat, under your skin, burrowing itself into ever nook and crevice like a disease, like the anger that always lived inside of you. "if you saw violence taking hold in him, you should have done everything in your power to keep it away. you sit here and warn me of possibilities when stopping such violence is your responsibility. not mine."

not mine, not mine, not mine. it echoed in your head, like the court's whispers. you did not mean to admit that the whispers that blamed you for hongjoong's misgivings bothered you. but you shook with your anger, and yeosang and mingi watched on as if you were a funeral pyre burning before their eyes.

"he is not violent." mingi murmured, voice breathy, "he does not want to be like his father."

you crossed your arms over your chest, looking from mingi to yeosang, "do you really believe that?"

"i want to believe it," yeosang sighed, his voice wistful, "hongjoong isn't a bad person. he's caring, and he remembers the littlest things. he sends medicine when he hears his friends are under the weather. he knows my favorite flower, and he wraps my name-day gifts with them. he sends san and jongho their favorite sweets when their mother's death day comes around. he cleared a space in the garden to commemorate mingi's mother, since lady song refuses to do so in the eyrie. he is...he cares, and he is so gentle, y/n, sweet even, when he is not angry." yeosang dragged a hand through his blond hair, closing his eyes, and perhaps this was the first time you'd seen him so candid with you. no kang amusement, no honeyed words. he speaks as yeosang. only yeosang. "but the mad king lives in his nature, and he knows it. he ruins things because of it, and i'm afraid it will set him on the exact path he despises."

you did not think yeosang thought highly of hongjoong. not truly. neither did you think hongjoong cared much for san, especially after san courted you. but perhaps, they truly were brothers, more than you'd ever accounted for. you'd known it ran deep, and longer than even your time at court. it ran through their fathers, if the chosen members of the small council was anything to go by, but you hadn't truly wanted to believe it. that a family existed in the red keep, found not made, while you were still so alone.

you should have fell in line that night and allowed the gods to determine your fate. the strength of their bonds, of how well they knew hongjoong, seeped into every word, and you should have taken it at face value. you should have stopped.

but you've become quite terrible at doing as you should.

"do you think he would," you hesitated, fingers curled in your lap, "...hurt me?"

mingi closed his eyes, turning to the gods once more.

yeosang twirled his cup in his fingers, the wine sloshing in his cup. he said, "hasn't he already?"

it was a quiet sort of acknowledgement you had not expected from kang yeosang, of all people.

hongjoong hadn't hurt you physically, but he'd taken from you for his own gain. he turned you into the type of person that pushed song mingi's boundaries just to see how far he would go for you, short of becoming a turncloak and betraying his king and vows. hongjoong turned you into this, and it was everything you did not want to be.

once upon a time, you dreamt of being kind. now, you were anything but.

to have that acknowledged brought a certain relief, but it also angered you. he knew of your pain, and he merely watched.

"you're right, ser yeosang," you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as you avoided eye contact with both yeosang and mingi. "it doesn't matter."

~.~.~.~.~

that night, hongjoong returned to your chambers smelling of amber and sweat and smoke. he shrugged his shirt off, his shoulder and chest blotched with reddish marks. even in the candlelight, you could see it. he did not say a word as he drew his bath and disappeared.

you'd turned away, but you could not sleep. it was not the guilt this time, but rather a heaviness in your chest. you ignored that heaviness, focusing instead on the part of you that wished to survive. if hongjoong found someone else to fixate upon, then your misgivings would not be so easily forgiven. the possibility was very real. you'd frowned at the wall as those thoughts ran rampant.

you startled when hongjoong's voice echoed through the chambers, "why don't you ever sleep?"

it was a simple enough question, but it made your heart beat faster. your palms were clammy. you were wracked with guilt. it was not a new feeling, but it continued to eat at your insides. you knew it would eat at you until there was nothing left.

you turned to face him. "why don't you?"

hongjoong's sharp features grew sharper in the shadows. when he rose, he loomed over you, his shadow creeping up over the wall and into the high ceiling. he truly looked the part of a god, the kinds of gods people feared.

you spoke before you took the time to think. you said, "is it because of the guilt?"

this was you you spoke of, but hongjoong's shoulders stiffened, and his looming shadow sunk back into him. vulnerability should not have suited hongjoong, and it truly did not. but you liked vulnerability on him. it bought you control you did not expect.

you clutched the sheets beneath you as you continued, "does it eat at you with every waking breath? do the faces of every person you'd burned or ruined or broke haunt you to this day, hongjoong?"

hongjoong stood so still, clenched fists at his side. your heart lodged in your throat, along with the lump growing there.

it was a strange thing, to understand the emotional turmoil kim hongjoong felt, despite everything. your words sawed its way into your gut the same way it did to him. it was ironic, truly, that the words you used to hurt him hurt you too.

you whispered, "or is it shame?"

"shut up," hongjoong growled.

you should have.

"oh," your laugh was humorless, "it is shame. do you finally feel a sense of shame when you look my way? when you return to our chambers still smelling like another?"

he stalked towards you then, one step, then two, then three, four, five, until he stood above you at the edge of the bed. his voice rang through your chambers, loud and sharp, "i said shut up."

"beg and i'll consider it," you mocked, anger curling at the pit of your stomach at his tone.

he grit his teeth, his dark eyes fixed on you.

you wondered if hongjoong would kill you where you sat. you waited, then, watching his every movement. the twitch of his brow. the curl of his fingers. the deepening of his scowl. that darkening in his eyes. time stopped, and you merely watched as he came back to life.

instead, he sunk to his knees, the bed dipping with the weight of him. he looked like he carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders, and he would sooner let it cripple him then let it slide off his shoulders. he looked the personification of the anger and shame and guilt that always lived inside of you.

he lifted his head to meet your gaze, his shadowed eyes heavy with emotions you could not place. guilt, desire, shame, amusement, contradictory emotions. he mirrored your insides, you knew, and that was a terrifying thought. to admit that you were truly just like him was one thing, but to see it spread out for you like this? to find such a sight fascinating? by the gods, surely you were terrible for this.

"jealousy does not suit you one bit," his voice was rough, low.

"i am not jealous," you bristled. you were not, you should not be, you could not be. you were pushing him so you could survive. so he wouldn’t wander too far. there was nothing else.

"oh, y/n, are we still lying to each other?"

you'd deflated at his brow raise, though your grip beneath you, on the sheets, was still so tight. his eyes fell to your hands, before they returned to your face. he waited patiently.

you could tell him the truth, or you could aim to burrow your words deep under his skin and hope it lived there for eternity.

"yes," you said, "you will never have me as i am. you will never know me, no matter how many sleepless nights we spend sharing stories. you will never know what is the truth and what is a lie."

"i know when you're lying, y/n," hongjoong's voice was not unkind. it held an ancient exhaustion. "whether you like it or not, i know you."

"how could you possibly know me? you don't care for me. you never did," your voice trembled, despite your spite.

hongjoong laughed, then, and it was softer now.

his dark eyes carried the weight of the world as it settled on you, and your breath caught in your throat.

"i know that you always take sugar in your tea." hongjoong said, "i know that you always forget your heavy cloak because you do not wish to acknowledge the winters. your favorite color is green. an emerald green like the jewel. you are terrified of spiders, still. i know that you hate cucumbers. that your favorite flower is dragon's breath, and that is the only reason why you visit the godswood. you do not believe in the gods, new or old.”

your breath remained caught in your throat, and your fingers found purchase around your knees.

hongjoong reached out then, his bare fingers hovering above your cheek. he met your gaze, and you did not think about it when you nodded in permission. his caress was a light thing, barely there, but his fingers trembled. he pressed his palm to the underside of your jaw, cupping your cheek. you let out a breath as he dragged his fingertips along your skin, a breath you did not realize you were holding.

"i know that you adore the three legged mare the stablehands keep hidden during inspections. that you’ve been drinking more so you can sleep," he said, with the smallest of laughs, "and i know that you are afraid of me."

you shook your head, then, and you managed to say, "not always."

"that is not enough," hongjoong murmured, his silver hair falling into his eyes. his dark eyes fell along your face, from your gaze to your lips and back.

you should have pushed him away.

instead, you said, "i am not afraid. not now."

he leaned closer then, his silver hair brushing along your temples, his touch on your cheek warm. "and now?"

your heart knocked against your ribs. you shook your head, "no."

then he leaned even closer, his forehead resting against yours. he was so close, you could count his eyelashes. his silver hair tickled your skin. his touch burned, like fire. like the sun.

your heart stopped, and the silence in the room was deafening. you were afraid any sudden movement, any loud noise, would bring you both back to reality, that it would shatter whatever this was, as tentative and fragile as it felt. your gaze flickered from his dark eyes to his pink lips, and watched his jaw clench.

he breathed, "now?"

you shook your head.

"words, y/n," he murmured, his thumb tracing circles along your jaw, "i need words."

"beg for it, then," you mocked his words, matching his tone. a grin stretched across his face. all teeth and glinting, despite his hooded dark eyes.

one of his hands dragged down your skin, drawing circles and letters and words you would never be privy to along the skin of your neck, and you shuddered under his touch. he said, with an air of the kind of gentle care that left you breathless, "please." his other thumb brushed to the corner of your mouth, pressing into the soft skin as he repeated, gentle and desperate and wanting in a way that made your thoughts run blank, "y/n, please."

you turned your head, pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of his thumb. his eyes tracked your movements. you knew because you held his gaze in yours.

you said, "i am not afraid of you, hongjoong. not anymore."

a lie.

his lips twitched upwards.

he knew when you lied.

he asked, "and if i were to kiss you? would you be afraid then?"

terribly so, you thought, and not because he was the son of the mad king, or because he was volatile. no, what you feared the most was the way you hung onto his movements with bated breath and your heart beat too fast at his touches. you feared you liked this - him - more than you should have. more than you could handle.

you only feared yourself, when you shook your head and said, "no."

when he pressed his lips to yours, you were caught by surprise not by the kiss, but by his gentleness. you kissed him back. he tasted of the remnants of sweet mulberry wine. he smelled of the soap and bath oils you both shared. you pressed up into him, deepening the embrace, and he cradled the back of your head as he maneuvered you into the bedsheets, and your fingers found purchase in his silver-blond hair. he gasped against your lips, and you could feel the grin there. his lips were soft and kind and everything you longed for since you stepped foot in the red keep. of kindness, of softness, of being held as if you were the most precious creature to exist. it made you breathless.

he broke away first, and you gasped for air, even as one of his hands pressed under your jaw. your own hands remained tangled in his hair. he tucked away loose strands of hair as he hovered above you, as he peered down at you. his gaze was intense, as if he was memorizing the sight of you like this, as if he was admiring you. the rough pad of his thumb dragged along your cheek.

he said, "i've wanted to do that since i laid eyes on you."

you'd blinked at his admission, your grip in his hair tightening. his thumb dragged down your cheek, down the length of your neck, down, down, down. he stopped just short of the hem of your shirt.

"keep going," you allowed, untangling one of your hands from his hair just to push it back from his face. just to cup his cheeks in your hands. "just...do not hurt me."

"i won't. i swear it," he promised, and the sincerity of it made something inside you wither. he dipped down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, and it left a fire in your heart. he said, with a grin and dark eyes, "if anything, you will be the death of me."

[jaeyunbaeun]

[3] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "all you have to do is beg."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: 13k words, gender neutral reader, uhhh some very sad reunions, implications of abuse (not hongjoong), implications of cheating, daddy issues........i blame those anthology posts ppl make with every sad dad-related quote ever, also in game of thrones there's a tradition called the bedding ceremony and it definitely is very coercive/pretty much assault played off as a fun little traditional thing in the books so i will not be delving into it in this fic, it happens but not as terribly and i wanted to warn yall since it can be triggering, hongjoong is toxic/mean, anxiety descriptions, the beginnings of what i like to call the hongjoongification of y/n

-

"have you found robes fit for a royal?" yeosang asked as he escorted you from the queen's waiting room to yours. the queen hadn't seemed ecstatic, in fact she only seemed sad for you, despite her short sentences and clear exhaustion. her reaction only worried you further, as hongjoong was her son. even after all these years, you could never discern hongjoong and the queen's relationship. the queen was fond of hongjoong, and hongjoong of her, but hongjoong barely spoke of her. you heard from the maids that he visited her chambers often, but that was the only extent to their relationship you were privy to. yet, here the queen was, seemingly sad over this betrothal. you'd tried on the traditional kim wedding robes, the maids clapping at the sight of you. and the queen had merely nodded and pat your cheek before she dismissed you.

yeosang matched your pace as you strode through the halls of the red keep, ignoring the eyes on you. not one person in court bothered to hide their whispers. the king wasted no time in announcing the wedding, and you found yourself more worried for san than yourself, as was still at storm's end. at this rate, the seven kingdoms would know before san. a hasty marriage between hongjoong and you would only have the people of the court believe something foul was afoot, especially since san and you courted each other so publicly all these months.

for a moment, the only sound between you both was the clinking of yeosang's armor, and the murmured greetings of servants as you passed into more private parts of the red keep.

you said then, "should you continue addressing me in such a tone?"

"have you found robes fit for a royal, your grace?" yeosang repeated, tacking on the title with a taunting grin.

you sighed, turning the corner, "i've always had robes fit for a royal in dorne."

"that is in the past. soon you'll have resided here longer than you have in dorne, you know."

you did not like that reminder. it brought an ache to your chest, and the urge to fling yourself from the nearest window to escape - an impossible feat since all your windows have had golden grates latched to them since you arrived - or take the narrow passageways behind the walls and run far far away. but you did not know where to go, and you could barely handle a sword, despite your lessons, as hongjoong, yeosang, ser johnny, and ser yuta liked to remind you. only mingi ever told you that you were improving in that area.

you paused at your chamber doors. you spoke without really looking at yeosang, "you said once that whomever i wed will determine my fate."

you turned to look up at yeosang, and a faint ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips at whatever he thought of your expression. he tilted his head, said, "you remembered that? i am touched, your grace."

you'd glared at his teasing tone, even as you clarified, "i want to know what happens when i marry the prince? you seemed so sure of yourself when you spoke of my fate. what of this arrangement, then? what is my fate now?"

yeosang's smile did not slip from his face as you wanted. kang yeosang would never give you the pleasure of vindication. he merely dragged a hand through his yellow-blond hair, his dark eyes piercing. his hand remained at the hilt of his sword, even as he said, "you will become king hongjoong's partner, my liege. his monarch."

you'd rolled your eyes. before you could respond, yeosang added a quiet, "and his weakness."

"weakness?" you'd laughed in disbelief.

"i suppose," yeosang tilted his head, the smile on his face a pretty thing, the signature kang amusement flitting across his face. "you always were a weakness of sorts."

"i am not." you'd glared, though your stomach flipped and heat curled at your cheeks. surely he did not believe such drivel. you said, "i never was, and i doubt that will change just because i am his spouse."

yeosang raised a brow at you. still he shrugged, clearly not bothering to inquire further. he said, "let's say you are not a weakness. you'll still be one of the most protected, most beloved, and most targeted people in the seven kingdoms."

that brought you pause. "targeted?"

"not many have love for a mad king with a penchant for burning anyone he disagrees with at the stake. the monarchy has always been a target, but, nowadays, i'd say the king's paranoia may come from a place of truth."

"and you've...known this?"

"i am in his kingsguard," yeosang said, as if it should be quite obvious to you. "i know of every threat, real or perceived."

"yes," you'd pressed, raising a brow, "but your father is the hand."

"my father does not tell me much."

"right." you bit out, rolling your eyes at his evasiveness.

yeosang laughed, but his eyes were dark, calculating, the expression of the kangs through and through. he shook his head, still, as he murmured, "rest assured that i never imagined hongjoong would put you in this position. especially with the queen - we'd all agreed you were much too sweet to play these games."

"yet, the moment i stepped onto the shores of king's landing, i've been entangled in them."

"blame your father for that."

you do. you do blame your father, and that was the worst of it.

you grit your teeth, said, "i do not need you all deciding such things on my behalf. i can decide on my own."

"i must admit, that is what concerns me most. your decisions have landed you in terrible situations with terrible enemies."

you glared at him and the clear jab at your intelligence. yeosang only smiled, and raised his hands in the air, mocking a placating gesture.

you'd continued glaring, even as you shouldered your way in to your chambers without giving him another glance nor word. he did not deserve such kindness. not when he hadn't bothered to answer your question properly in the first place, and only left you with more to think about.

~.~.~.~.~

guests began to arrive in small groups over the course of the next few days, and the servants of the red keep were left scrambling. your lessons were even cancelled in preparation for the wedding. you hadn't seen the king, his small council, or even hongjoong since that night.

when you'd told him he'd cost you your freedom, he'd grit his teeth and turned away. he'd left you in the empty throne room with the rotting flesh of his dead brother still lingering, his departing footsteps echoing all around, and you'd stared at his retreating back, at yeosang meeting your gaze over his shoulder even as he trailed after hongjoong.

hongjoong always had a response. he always returned your words with vitriol or amusement of his own. yet tonight, the throne room doors were flung open, and they remained open, because the servants and guards of the red keep did not consider your status high enough to wait on, not when the king has already dismissed the room and the prince has left, and you were left alone, your heart in your throat and your palms sweaty and your knees shaky. you held your breath as you left the throne room, as you trailed through the halls of the red keep you regrettably knew better than the halls of your home in sunspear, steadying yourself against the cold stone walls as you walked through the silent halls. you'd entered your chambers, ignoring the bowed head of one of the kingsguard that remained stationed by your door - an action of either the king or hongjoong that you did not wish to dwell on the implications behind - and even as you shut the door behind you and trailed into your chambers, you were too shocked to sob the way you knew you should have. you only slipped from your robes, and rubbed perfume oil in your palms until they were slippery and the scent of musk and roses invaded all your senses. you tried to mask the scent of rotting flesh still lingering in your nose, but you could still smell it. you believed you'd never forget it - that it would haunt you, a lasting memory of the king and queen's late son. you merely laid in your bed until the sun poured through the grates of your window, and stared at the ceiling you'd long memorized.

since that night, you'd only seen yeosang on the few occasions where he was one of the kingsguard asked to escort you back to your chambers.

you did not see mingi until days before the wedding, when the doors to the library creaked open, and mingi stuck his head in, his wide smile dragging out a smile of your own.

he sauntered into the library, his armor clinking as he walked, and he took a seat across from you, watching as you closed the book documenting wild plants you'd been engrossed in. you'd decided a few days ago, somewhere between the way your maids fell silent when you entered your chambers to bathe and your septa suggesting you go to the godswood and pray instead of lounging about in the library or your chambers, that since you knew nothing, you'd make it a point to learn everything. so you spent too many hours reading of the geography around king's landing. your septa scoffed at you every morning, leaving you alone in the library. you read of the wild plants of each of the kingdoms. even accounts of the plants that grew outside of westeros. you read anything and everything that gave you information about something outside of king's landing. perhaps, you hoped you could leave. one day. perhaps, you could go to the godswood and pray to every god who wanted to listen; you were certainly starting to become restless enough for such an absurd thing.

"doing some light reading?" he asked, eyeing the cover with a raised brow.

you'd shrugged, and mingi only nodded. he did not tend to push, and you were glad for it.

you said, "to what do i owe the pleasure, ser mingi?"

mingi's laugh was a sweet, loud, boisterous thing that filled the quiet library. one of the maesters that spent his time organizing the library shushed you both from the other side of the room. mingi giggled. you could not help but join.

he sobered up much too quickly. you watched as he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. he said, deep voice soft, "san asked me to find you."

you'd blinked, "he's here?"

"he arrived this morning," mingi said. "i left him in the courtyard."

you'd nodded, frowning at your fingers. you wrung your hands together. suddenly, you were nervous. you had not done anything wrong. you did not get a choice in the matter, in fact, yet you the nerves curled at the pit of your stomach.

mingi cleared his throat, "you do not need to see him yet. if you do not wish to."

you looked up at mingi. no one ever cared what you wished for. his expression held a sincerity you had not seen since sunspear, since yunho and wooyoung and your parents and -

"i do," you said, shaking away the loudness of your thoughts.

mingi only nodded as he rose from his seat, and held a hand out to you. you took it.

in the quiet halls, empty due to all the servants being busy with wedding preparations, mingi asked, "may i speak candidly?"

you'd frowned up at him, "you never need to ask, ser mingi."

mingi smiled, shaking his head, as he said, "i am sorry, y/n. you deserve more than you've been given."

you smiled as best as you could, despite the nerves, "it's all right. at least marrying the heir means i have the kingsguard to protect me?"

"the kingsguard only protects the king." mingi shook his head, and you detected a hint of pain in his tone, his eyes falling to his boots as he said, "still you have me, and yeosang. we're not much, but hongjoong listens to us."

you'd frowned at his words but before you could respond, you'd both arrived at the edge of the courtyard.

"mingi?" you murmured, worried by his stiff shoulders, watching as he bowed.

he shook his head, gesturing towards the courtyard, "lord san is waiting."

you did not push, as he would not have. instead, you'd nodded, and took the steps down into the courtyard, glancing back to watch mingi turn away back into the halls. with every conversation and interaction, you only worried further of your fate, and you despised king's landing - hongjoong - for it.

~.~.~.~.~

you found san where you always did, deep in the courtyard observing the flowers in bloom. this time, he peered at a white, almost translucent flower that grew in spirals along the stem.

the sun sat high in the sky, but the air was crisp. cold even. it left san with reddened ears and flushed cheeks. he still wore his riding boots. he must have been too busy to rest in his chambers after he arrived. san turned his gaze from the flower in front of him to you. his kind eyes were a gentle thing, one you'd come to miss over the stretches of time without him in the red keep.

his dimpled smile made your chest ache. the same ache that you felt when you thought of sunspear. when you thought of yeosang telling you that soon you'd have lived more name-days outside of dorne than in.

san held a hand out to you, and you took it, and his fingers were cold. they were not warm. when you looked at him, you only felt loss. perhaps, you'd invested too much into san. he warned you often that he didn't think the king would approve. you were naïve and you held onto hope, but were you so awful to do such a thing? were you in the wrong to see hope in another? to invest in it, even a little?

san held your hand in both his, and he rubbed it between his palms. you chewed the inside of your mouth before you said, "you're cold."

"so are you," his smile was always kind. you wanted to believe kindness was enough, but perhaps hongjoong truly was correct.

you looked from your intertwined hands to san's face. he met your gaze, and he held it as you finally asked, "what did your father tell you?"

san smiled. he let go of your hands, and he gestured to the bench off to the side. you both took a seat, the two of you turning to face each other. san rested an elbow on the back of the bench as he rested his chin on his knuckles.

"that the king refused to bless our betrothal," san's smile fell from his face, his kind eyes hardening, "and that he insinuated that house choi is conspiring against him."

you'd nodded, said, "i fear what he would have done to you if you were there."

"i heard what he said," san frowned, and for the first time you see a hint of fury in his eyes. you'd never understood the choi's house words, ours is the fury, until that very moment. you did not think the chois capable of fury. lord choi was always polite and calm, and san? well you did not think him capable of anger, let alone fury. you felt fury often, a byproduct of your gilded cage, and you could not imagine san displaying such unbridled anger.

yet here san sat, jaw clenched, barely restrained. it reminded you of late nights when you'd stare at your sharpened hair combs, and imagine despicable things. it made you frown, even as san continued, "hongjoong informed me of his father's threats. he also told me that the king wished to wed you to the corpse of a babe."

your frown deepened. a part of you had hoped san would not hear that detail. you did not want pity from him now, after all this time without it.

san's brows furrowed, and the fury lessened a bit as he smiled slightly, "hongjoong countered the king with his own proposal."

"you spoke to hongjoong?"

it was all you could say. you still did not know how to articulate how you felt about hongjoong's proposal, his stepping in when he did, and your subsequent betrothal. san studied you for a long moment, before he explained, "he spoke to me. the night of."

your eyes widened.

san sighed, "he rode to storm's end on his dragon. nearly jumped out of my skin at the sight. and...and he commanded me not to tell anyone."

"oh," you blinked, "should you be telling me this then?"

"i thought knowing he...that he worries like the rest of us would ease your nerves," san murmured. "hongjoong won't hurt you, y/n."

"i don't -"

"he told me you found him terrifying," san cut you off with a raised brow. "that you thought he'd be worse than his father."

you'd glared, "i didn't mean it. i was only...i wasn't..."

you'd trailed off, and san pressed a hand to yours, and he said, "it's okay to mean it. it's okay to be scared. you are not weak for it."

you let him hold your hand as you slumped against the bench and took in his words. he was right. that was a constant with san, that he was often right and you could never dispute his logic because of it. you muttered, "i knew you were too good to be true."

san let out a small laugh. he said, "i tried to prepare for this. for the king to reject our union, but i..."

he sighed, shaking his head.

"hoped?" you said with a laugh of your own. it fell flat, even to your own ears.

still, san smiled as he fiddled with your fingers between his, his hands warm, "too much, i fear."

"my septa would say we did not pray to the gods enough."

san let out a breathless laugh, one you were glad to let settle in your memories. san lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss.

he said, "i will miss you."

the worst of it, you knew, was that you'd see him at court for the rest of your lives. in hindsight, he would always be there, but missing someone did not always mean distance. when hongjoong ascended the throne, san would take his father's place in hongjoong's small council. lord choi san of storm's end. you would see each other often then, and you'd wonder of what could have been, and he would come to pity you eventually, you knew, because hongjoong would rather have you visit the caricatures of sunspear in the depths of king's landing then take you there himself. hongjoong could very well keep you in this gilded cage and watch you rot. perhaps that is what scared you most about hongjoong. that he could decide your fate however he saw fit, just as his father could. hongjoong would sit on his throne, and you would sit tucked away in your chambers, and every time you passed san during feasts or in the halls or at dinner when he visited his friends you would wonder of what could have been. you knew it. and you could tell san knew it too as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. you did not want to lose hope in the idea of setting foot in sunspear once more, but perhaps that was how it was meant to be.

you reached up and pressed your thumb to san's cheek. he let you, merely watching as you studied him.

you said, "whenever you visit, i will be here."

it was meant to be reassuring, but san pursed his lips, and the fury in his eyes was a sharp thing. a painful thing, really.

"i know," san closed his eyes, "and i am sorry for it."

"do not pity me." you told him, squeezing the hand he had in yours even as you pressed a finger under san's jaw, urging him to open his eyes and meet your gaze. he did, his eyes soft. kind. "swear to me you will not pity me. you will do as you always would, and we will not grieve for what could have been. swear it."

he searched your eyes for a long moment. it made the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end when he said, "are you certain?"

you nodded.

his eyes glistened, and you wanted to ask why but you did not. like with mingi, you did not wish to push. you did not wish to know, truly. you only nodded and nodded, fingers still resting under san's jaw, and san's voice was a soft thing, like an evening breeze, like the sound of your mother's voice when she called to you and wooyoung and yunho to come to her side, like the gentleness that exuded from yunho's very-being, like all the kindness you'd ever known in sunspear. all the kindness you'd known here wrapped gently into san's voice, his touch, his sad eyes, as he said, "i swear it."

you thought you'd been helping him, when you asked such a thing of him. you believed you were saving yourself grief.

you were not.

you pressed a kiss to his cheek, as chaste as the one he pressed to your hand, and as you leaned away he repeated, softer than ever, a whisper almost, "i swear it, y/n."

~.~.~.~.~

two days before the wedding, hongjoong leaned against the door to the library.

for a moment, you'd felt embarrassed at the sight of yourself with books and maps sprawled around you. you'd pushed two tables together with the help of the library's maester, who eyed you with resignation despite doing all you'd asked without complaint as he may have once before, and you had books stacked atop each other, a map of westeros and essos laid out in front of you. the map of essos was incomplete, and you'd fixated on perusing through books to determine the geography of essos on your own. clearly a terribly grandiose goal judging from the way the maester had raised a brow when you'd told him. still he merely disappeared and left you to your own devices. you could tell that he held a modicum of pity for you. at least it was either pity, or he believed you were succumbing to madness. you certainly felt as if you were succumbing to madness as the wedding drew closer. you barely slept and you tried to ignore the feeling of impending doom growing in your chest.

hongjoong merely remained propped against the entrance to the library, his arms folded over his chest, his silver-blond hair tied up. he certainly appeared more presentable than you did. his dark eyes remained fixed upon you, and for a moment you remained frozen. moments passed between you both, before you returned your attention to the map in front of you, ignoring the heat of embarrassment and his eyes still clearly fixed on the top of your head.

after a beat, hongjoong said, "y/n."

you only hummed, flipping through the book in front of you without quite seeing it. your heart raced against your ribs, and you did not wish to speak to hongjoong. you'd prefer if you never had to speak to him again, but at least for now you did not want to see him until you stood at the horrible altar.

another beat.

"y/n," he repeated, though this time his tone was laced with irritation. he said, "come to the dining hall."

you looked up at him once more, careful to avoid his dark gaze, frowning, "i am not hungry."

"that was not a request," hongjoong said, tone firm. his eyes narrowed slightly, but he still remained leaning against the door, still watching you, his gaze flitting over the books and maps in front of you.

your frown deepened as hongjoong quirked a brow at you.

"well? must i repeat myself, dearly betrothed?"

you grimaced at the mocking condescension dripping from his words, but you knew that despite everything he was still the heir, and you had to listen to him eventually. truly, you were in no mood to argue anyway.

you slammed the book shut in front of you. he merely watched as you stood, the chair creaking as it teetered on its hind legs. you grabbed it, pushing it in, and you snapped, "fine. happy?"

he did not respond to your lack of formalities, only rolled his eyes and spun on his heels.

he walked out of the library, the door slamming shut behind him. the resounding thud made your heart jump.

still, you followed after him. he only waited a moment for you to exit the library before he started walking. his robes swished in front of you, and his pace was a brutal thing you did not bother to keep up with. the silence between you both was an icy thing you were not planning on breaking first. you were angry with hongjoong. you would always be angry with him. you wanted -

he came to a sudden halt, steps from the dining hall. his robes fluttered around him as he turned to look you over for a long moment. his hard expression softened enough for you to frown, glancing at the dining hall as you did so. he replied, as if he could read the anxiety in your expression, "there's something for you in there. i suggest you attempt a smile, at the very least." he paused, "and you may thank me later."

you'd scowled at him, even as he spun, and opened the door. you'd never seen him open his own doors. wherever he went, he was announced, with fanfare and servants opening doors for him.

he swung the door open and stepped aside for you to enter first. you frowned at him, nervous. it was not customary for anyone to enter a room before a member of the royal family, but perhaps you'd have to get used to this since you would take on the kim banners in a few days' time.

he sighed, before he reached over and pressed a hand to the middle of your back. you jolted forward, away from his touch.

you entered the dining hall first.

you -

"oh, my love," her voice was unfamiliar. that thought would remain a heavy burden on your shoulders long after that moment passed. the way you did not recognize them for a long, long second. the unfamiliarity, despite the heaviness settling in your heart. seated at the dining table where you would usually sit with hongjoong, yeosang, mingi, and, on occasion, san, sat your mother, and where her hair was once full of color, it was now peppered gray. her skin was not so smooth, and her smile not so bright, and her beauty was dulled by an ancient sadness you understood all too well. your heart stopped when she whispered, "how you've grown."

you'd blinked. once, twice, three times, until it clicked.

until you felt your knees buckle beneath the weight of your realization, and you reached for the back of the dining chair. a hand touched the middle of your back. a light touch, barely there, and you looked over your shoulder at hongjoong, in disbelief. why would he...? his expression remained blank, unwavering.

oh.

you turned back to her.

your mother.

oh gods, it was your -

"mother, look again. if anything, they've gotten shorter," a deeper voice interrupted, and you tore your eyes from her, to the table, and you'd admonished yourself briefly for losing your composure in such a way. your vision tunneled onto your mother. you hadn't even considered -

your stomach flipped and your heart clenched and there was nothing keeping you upright aside from your grip on the chair in front of you. hongjoong's hand was gone, and you almost hoped for it back. almost.

your thoughts were blank as you stared and stared, and despite the unfamiliarity of the voice, you only needed to take a single glance to know. you were afraid you would not recognize them, that the years would take even that from you, and in many ways it had, but you still somehow knew.

two boys sat on either side of your mother, both with dark hair and skin kissed by the sun, but one was short and all angles and muscles, and the other tall even seated, all sinewy limbs and an aura of grace he never had before. they both held their heads high with a confidence that was only budding when you left sunspear. no longer were they boys made of gangly limbs. no longer could you pretend that the poor memories you had of them were accurate. it would never be accurate, and your memories were just distant things. still, despite that, they were not strangers. you knew them instantly, and you always would, and as they looked at you you found deep comfort in that revelation.

wooyoung was short and stocky, and the mischief in his expression still lingered, though it remained as a subtle undercurrent. a warning even. wooyoung's dark hair was longer - to his shoulders - and tied back into a knot, and you could still see the boy you remembered him as, in his small smile, and his eyes, and the way he fiddled with the sleeve of his robe as he looked at you. but the boy you remembered and the boy in front of you were too different. your head hurt at the thought of having to reconcile such a thing.

it was the same for yunho. his face still held the softness you remembered, but his eyes were hardened, and the kindness in his eyes were guarded. he held his chin up the way mingi did when he drew his swords, and the boy you knew long ago would not have dared swat at a fly, let alone raise a sword, but yunho's hand rests on the hilt of his sword as he smiles, and his eyes are wary as they flicker over your shoulder. still, his smile was a soft thing, a gentle thing, and it made your chest ache.

you stood there, gripping the chair in front of you as you committed the sight of them to your memories, and they looked at you as if they were doing the same. the ache in your chest worsened as you did so, and you knew this was a happy moment, a moment of celebration really, but you could not help but mourn the years you missed. the thought of missing all these years hurt more than your memories of them or the shallow letters or the way you imagined them every name-day, growing alongside you. your brothers grew up without you, and you without them, and that would always leave a hole. but, by the gods, how you've missed them. you felt, for the first time, as if you could breathe again. as if you were going to be all right, somehow, someway.

"it appears i am taller than you though," you said to wooyoung - the very thought that this was wooyoung before you in the flesh, that this was yunho, and your mother made you giddy and terrified all at once. to your horror, your voice crumbled halfway through your sentence. you choked back your sob, biting down on your lips.

still, wooyoung's small smile widened, and it was the same as when he was a boy. his eyes shone bright, teary almost. you bit down harder on your bottom lip, until you could taste blood. you refused to allow hongjoong to witness your vulnerability. certainly not when he was the one to arrange this.

there was another long beat of silence, drawn out and tense, a heavier burden on your shoulders really.

hongjoong was the one to break the silence. his voice echoed behind you, "i must take my leave. i will return shortly with lord jeong."

you turned to meet his gaze. he should not leave, as you doubted the king would be happy with his son leaving his dornish guests to conspire with his ward, but hongjoong merely dipped his head in a strange moment of acknowledgement, his brows furrowed slightly as he turned on his heels. the doors shut behind him, and you stared after him for a moment before you returned your attention to your family. only then had you registered hongjoong's words.

lord jeong.

your father was also here. that brought another wave emotions, and you did not know if you dreaded that meeting or not.

you looked at yunho, and your hands still shook, but you managed to keep your voice steady as you said, "you haven't grown either. not one bit."

it is strange how your family could be so familiar, yet so different.

yunho let out the smallest of laughs. it bubbled up from his lips, but his eyes were soft, kind.

then the sound of chairs scraping across the stone floor echoed through the dining hall, a chorus of scrapes, a chorus of movement. your grip on the chair in front of you grew tighter as they stood. as they drew closer. as it registered just how real this moment was.

your mother gathered you into her arms, and she cupped your cheeks, and dragged her hands along every part of you she could reach, her eyes searching your face, and she fussed, "you're so cold, my child. all these years, and you've refused to listen to my advice as well." she stroked your cheek, murmured, "kingdoms apart, yet stubborn just like your brothers."

and you tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a broken sob that you could no longer suppress. you did not have to, with hongjoong gone and you alone with you family. you pressed your face into the crook of your mother's neck. you used to do it so often before, but you did not think it possible to miss a gesture as small as this. but you found yourself burying your face in the crook of your mother's neck, your chest tight as you tried and failed to breathe through your sob. you cried, and your chest hurt with the weight of it, and the sound tore through the quiet dining hall.

your mother pressed her palms to your face as she leaned away, tears in her eyes as she sniffled, and she studied you as if she would never see you again. you did not want to dwell on the thought. not when wooyoung tackled you into an embrace as soon as your mother let go.

no headlocks or childhood roughness, merely him reaching over and clinging to you, a small sniffle reaching your ears. you sensed the hesitation, the slight awkwardness, and you resented it. the years created a gap neither of you were sure how to navigate through. it made this worse somehow. you blinked away another onslaught of tears, if only to see him clearly and commit him to memory as he deserved. he tried to step away after a moment, but you clung to him, and he giggled, rocking you side to side. he cupped your cheek and brushed at your tears, and you looked over his shoulder, and met yunho's gaze then. the softness there was as you remembered, and this time the tears fell freely as you let go of wooyoung and reached for yunho. his embrace was as warm and kind as you remembered it. it was a warmth and kindness you'd missed dearly in king's landing. he held you as your mother did, as wooyoung did, as if you would disappear at any moment, and the sound of yunho and wooyoung and your mother crying burrowed itself in your heart.

as you embraced your family, and laughed through another onslaught of tears as you furiously wiped at them, you found yourself despising hongjoong for this. he wanted you to thank him, but were you truly thankful for this knowing that your family would have to go back to sunspear and you would not be able to go with them. were you truly thankful knowing that hongjoong, or the king, could have allowed this whenever they wished? you did not know when you'd see them once more. you did not know when they'd be allowed to visit you again. as you took a seat at the dining table, and your mother, wooyoung, and yunho drew their chairs close to you, as your mother squeezed your hand and refused to let go and wooyoung pushed all kinds of food onto your plate, and yunho wiped at his tears with the back of his hands, his expression hardening once more, you found you would have been more content with never seeing them again than having to lose them once more after this.

~.~.~.~.~

hours later, your mother was called away to speak to the queen. hongjoong had not returned. in that moment, you were completely alone with your brothers. you wondered, briefly, what the king would do if he learned of this. you were never truly left alone in all your time as the king's ward, and now you were alone with the two people you're sure the king despised more than your father.

yunho reached across the table, over the half-empty glasses of sunspear-grown wine and untouched fruits on your plate - you were too busy asking a thousand questions so you could somehow fill the years you'd missed to eat much. yunho answered with smiles while wooyoung recounted all kinds of stories, his loud laugh bounding off the walls and ceilings, and your mother merely sat with her chin rested on her palm and a fondness in her glittering eyes as she watched her children - and he pressed a finger to the scar on your arm. the burn.

you'd blinked, frowning at yunho's frown. yunho leaned back on his chair.

you explained, without much prompt, "remember when i first arrived here and wrote of dragons?" you brushed your fingers along the scar, "that was the night i got this."

wooyoung's brows furrowed. he leaned over, brushing a thumb over the rough skin of the scar. he looked up at yunho briefly, before his gaze flit to meet yours. there was anger there, the kind you used to see from him over petty childish things. before, it never bothered you, but now it felt as if it wasn't for anything petty, or childish, and it made you drop your hands to your lap as you pulled your sleeve over the scar. you looked to yunho, however his gaze was a contemplative thing, though there was a hint of anger there you've never known yunho capable of. it reminded you of san, and a part of you lamented that thought. san should have reminded you of yunho, but your time with yunho was stolen from you, and now yunho and wooyoung were reminders. you turned back to wooyoung, and he sighed, "you never mentioned it."

"i didn't want anyone to know i'd snuck into the dragonpit. if i wrote you of the incident, the entire small council would have known.

wooyoung sighed once more, a heavy thing, his shoulders slumping. the implication was clear, but you all knew your letters were being read.

after a moment, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips, his eyes twinkling. he said, "you thought sneaking in would be the best way to see dragons?"

you laughed, "how else would a ward see dragons?"

"you could have just asked," yunho mumbled.

you frowned. wooyoung rolled his eyes, "that is boring."

you laughed when yunho tossed a grape at wooyoung. it felt nice to laugh, and that thought alone was enough to sober you. you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, and the hall went quiet once more. you said, "why did neither of you visit as you promised?"

it's a childish question. you doubted the king would have let them step foot into the red keep without a viable reason. and you were not a viable reason.

but they never tried. they never tried, and you needed someone or something to be angry about.

you scowled half-heartedly at both of them.

"we wanted to," yunho spoke gently, but there was an exhaustion to his gaze.

"but you didn't try, and here i am," your voice rang through the dining hall, echoing. you gestured around you. "caged, alone, and set to wed the son of a mad king."

"it will be better than being a ward," wooyoung's voice was a low thing, hesitant, but firm.

you looked to him, eyes wide. you could not even find anger in you at his words. wooyoung did not know. he did not reside at court. you did not write him detailed letters because of lord kang's spying. how could wooyoung possibly know of your true worries? your fears? still, you asked, "how can you be so sure of that? how can you be sure that wedding the prince would be better than - than being a ward?"

there was a pause. you watched as wooyoung and yunho exchanged a look you could not read.

then wooyoung leaned close, his voice dropping into a whisper only you and yunho could hear. his eyes flickered between yours, searching, his jaw set, and his gaze was a sharp thing. he murmured, "is there a reason why you...why i should not be sure that your status will keep you safe?" wooyoung reached out and pressed a hand over yours, his voice soft, "has the prince hurt you, y/n?"

his tone held an edge to it you'd never heard from him before. something that hovered the way a sword would before a strike. it made you feel safe, strangely, in a way you hadn't felt in a while. no one here ever asked such questions - san, in all his wisdom, only ever provided you solutions, and you figured that was because comfort like this was meant for the pitied, and san did not pity you. perhaps, wooyoung and yunho did, but with wooyoung and yunho, it did not feel pathetic the way pity from strangers did. it felt like concern and care, and it warmed your heart and calmed your worries more than you'd ever admit aloud to them.

yet, you found yourself shaking your head. perhaps, you found hongjoong irritating and terrifying. perhaps, hongjoong despised you. but he never really hurt you. the one time in the hall, you'd choked him first. you've both said horrible things to each other. as the prince and heir to the iron throne, he wielded more power over you than you him. but he stepped in on your behalf. he saved you from that dragon years ago. san said he would not hurt you. in fact, hongjoong's never really hurt you. "he's never hurt me."

not yet, at least. the thought made your chest tighten.

it was as if your brothers could hear your thoughts. as if they knew the not yet lingering over your heads and at the tip of your tongue. that it was very much a possibility. it always would be. that was the world of kings and heirs.

wooyoung's hand tightened around your fingers. yunho's voice, however, was gentle despite his words.

"if prince hongjoong ever devolves into madness," yunho's voice rang in your ears, settled under your skin, and it made your eyes fill with tears, "we will come for you. i will bring you home, y/n."

you'd blinked through your tears at him. you did not want to dwell on the implication that you would not return otherwise. how could the heir's spouse ever reside in sunspear anyway? your voice sounded small, even to your own ears, "will you really?

yunho nodded, pressing a heavy hand to your shoulder, the warmth of his hand a gentle reminder of how cold king's landing truly was, and he said, "i swear it."

"on the gods," wooyoung let go of you and pressed a fruit to his lips his wet eyes full of a fire that reminded you of the sunset, "old and new, dead and alive. every single fucking one of them."

"i expect you both to keep that promise, then," you said, your laugh and joke falling flat.

still, yunho laughed even as he wiped at his wet cheeks with the back of his hand, snatching fruit from your untouched plate, and wooyoung drank more wine. before either of you could say another word, the doors to the dining hall opened, and your mother and father entered the hall, hongjoong leading the way. he met your gaze for a brief moment, brows furrowing as his gaze lingered, before he looked at your brothers. you glanced at them, and wooyoung had his eyes narrowed, while yunho's smile remained cold and polite.

hongjoong merely gestured at the dining hall doors.

"the king and queen wishes for me to escort you to the guest quarters," hongjoong said. "i hope your meal was to your liking."

yunho nodded briskly.

wooyoung only shrugged, his eyes narrowed, "it could have been better, your grace."

your mother threw wooyoung and yunho a sharp look, even as she said, "don't mind him. he tends to get cranky after long hours of sea travel. it was wonderful, your grace."

hongjoong's brows were furrowed in disbelief, and wooyoung snorted while yunho suppressed a small smile. your mother glared at them both.

your gaze flickered to the man that entered the room, however. your father. lord jeong.

he met your gaze over hongjoong's head, and you could pick out the pieces of him you often glimpsed in your mirrors and reflections. your chin. your ears. the pieces of him you saw in your brothers. eyes. height. hair. yunho's smile. wooyoung's nose.

you often would replay your last moments with him aboard the ship from sunspear to king's landing. the way he kneeled before you. the way he clasped his hands over yours.

your mother turned to hongjoong then, gesturing for him to join your brothers' side. they spoke quietly, clearly giving you and your father privacy, however hongjoong glanced your way anyway. wooyoung said something to him that made hongjoong's head snap to the side and his brows raise. your mother pinched wooyoung's back, something you only noticed from your angle, hidden from hongjoong's view, and wooyoung snickered at her, the sound reverberating off the high ceiling of the dining hall. wooyoung still bowed his head, his mouth moving. yunho spoke over him.

your father stepped fully into your view then, and you turned your attention to him. you shook the memories you had of him away. you'd replayed those moments so often, the grew into nightmares. sometimes your father would burst into flames, either by dragonfire or by the king's green fire he used to execute anyone disloyal. other times he would turn into the mad king, with claws for fingernails and a dripping grin and a chilling laugh.

"my child," your father's voice held a tremor of emotion you did not wish to pinpoint, "my y/n."

you'd blinked at him, at his words. my y/n. if you were his, then why had he let you go? why did he exchange your freedom for politics? perhaps, such an act would have been excusable if he'd only prepared you for king's landing, yet he hadn't even bothered doing that.

the anger curled at the pit of your stomach. it was always there, always gnawing at your insides like a hungry beast. like hongjoong's dragon when you'd seen it feast on animal carcasses from afar, too scared to step into the dragonpit since that night with the mad king and his council.

lord jeong's smile was dejected, "it has been too long."

"it has," was all you could say, watching him as your stomach churned.

"i do not enjoy when one of my children resents me," he sighed, shaking his head. his smile remained, however.

you frowned, "i do not resent you, father."

that was not true.

"that is not true," lord jeong chuckled. "we may have spent a long time apart, but you are still my child. more so than your mother hoped, judging from the accounts i've heard of your time here. i know you well. i expected there would be resentment in your heart when we met again, but how i wished it would not be so."

"how can i not resent you?" the admission alone made your chest feel tight, especially when your father leaned his head back to blink rapidly at the sky, as if he were lamenting the gods. you should be happy to see him. you knew that as a child of the prince of dorne, you had duties to fulfil, and this was one of them. you should not resent him, yet you did. you always would. he was your father, yet he had not been your father. and that only fueled the terrible gnawing beast at the pit of your stomach. you said, "you sent me here with nothing to fend myself with."

"i know," your father held out a hand, and you allowed him to take yours. you could not refuse it, despite everything. he kneeled in front of you, clasping your hands in his, just as he did on that ship. you were much taller now, or perhaps his back has grown more curved with old age, and you towered over him in a way you hadn't before. lost time shows itself in the smallest of gestures. this was one of them.

you tugged at his hands. he let you tug him to his feet. still, his knights that had followed him into the dining hall averted their gazes at the sight. everything was the same, yet it was so utterly different. you were someone else entirely this time, and your father was barely a father, and your brothers looked on with melancholic eyes, and your mother turned her back to the sight, and hongjoong merely frowned. hongjoong was not there before, and you did not like that he was here now. watching. seeing you. you felt as if he could see the monstrous anger at the pit of your stomach, that he would add this moment as yet another mental tally to his list of reasons why he believed you were just like him.

"i am sorry, y/n," lord jeong, the prince of dorne, your aging father, said, "will you allow me a chance to amend this?"

it tugged at your heartstrings, but you both knew that no matter how hard he tried, you were here now and you were set to marry prince hongjoong, heir to the iron throne. yunho would be the next prince of dorne, and dorne would be tied to westeros in both vows and blood. you hadn't been to sunspear since you were four-and-ten, and you would likely never return. once upon a time, you would have believed your father could do anything, as all children did. but you were no longer four-and-ten, and a worshipper to any of the gods, whether they were old or new or your parents. at twenty, you knew your father could never amend something so broken.

your voice came out too sharp, too bitter, "it's too late to amend this. not without..."

you sighed, trailing off, and your father finished, his eyes bright, "war."

you shook your head, said, "that is not worth it."

for a moment, your father merely met your gaze. you could not read his expression. after a moment, he said, "perhaps not."

"just tell me this," you asked, "do you regret it?"

"as a ruler? no," your father's voice was quiet as it rang between you both, "but as a father? every single day."

perhaps your father would have waged war to amend this, but lord jeong would never, and you both knew it.

so, you only nodded, and gestured towards the doors to the dining hall, where hongjoong, wooyoung, yunho, and your mother waited. your father left with them, and though your resentment for him did not grow any smaller, you understood.

with that, however, you were left alone. you were always left alone.

~.~.~.~.~

it took you a moment to gather yourself, but as you stepped out of the empty dining hall, the servants rushing around you to clean up, you were met with an unexpected face outside the dining hall, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned heavily against the stone walls.

you blinked in surprise. yeosang stood straight as he bowed his head and announced, "i was asked to escort you back to your chambers, my liege."

you wished to deny him, but the only people who would ask yeosang of such a thing were not the deniable types.

besides, his tone did not hold its usual teasing lilt. though his smile was a lopsided thing, one you feared had become a permanent fixture upon his features. you wondered often if he knew how to look genuine. it'd suit his pretty features.

still, you simply nodded, shaking the last remnants of your vulnerability away. you should not allow such a thing to happen again, you knew. you strode past him, and yeosang did not say a word. he merely stayed in step behind you, the sounds of both your footsteps and the light clinks of his armor echoing along the halls. the only breaks in the silence was the occasional greetings from other members of the court or servants. they used to ignore you, but you refused to dwell on the reasons behind the sudden interest.

your wing of the red keep was always quiet. even the decorations were less grandiose. it was another way for the kims to remind you of your place, no doubt, but you found you'd miss it. surely, you would move into hongjoong's wing after all this, and that thought alone made your stomach churn with anxiety.

you pressed a palm to the door to your chambers, but the anxious twist in your stomach only grew. you hated that feeling, more than anything. in that moment, all you wanted was to flee. you wanted to return to sunspear and lay under the sun and -

"what would you do if i tried to leave?" you spun to face yeosang, your heart racing at the thought. you doubted you would be able to get far - the kims had dragons and the entire city watch at their disposal and your maps would be difficult to apply outside the library when you had no real idea of the layout or terrain of king's landing or the land outside of the city.

"leave?" yeosang tilted his head, his dark eyes alight with curiosity and another emotion you could not pinpoint. you did not wish to decipher it, in fact. you were tired of maintaining hyperawareness of the body language of those around you.

"run away. flee. leave the red keep," you studied him for a long moment, but he remained unreadable, "i've memorized half the maps in the library, you know."

yeosang nodded slowly. he said, "as a member of the kingsguard, i'd have to stop you."

you frowned at his specification. you raised a brow, crossing your arms, "but as kang yeosang?"

"i would like to see how you leaving plays out," he said with a snort, and a twinkle of that teasing kang amusement he always carried.

"oh," you nodded. you were not sure what answer you expected, but you certainly did not expect such honesty regarding yeosang's penchant for games. but did yeosang ever lie to you about such things? you should not have expected anything else.

"as yeosang, however," yeosang continued, "i'd wonder why you hadn't attempted to flee any sooner. mingi mentioned the maps and botany books."

you blinked in surprise at him, "he told you?"

"why wouldn't he?"

you crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring the question and instead opting for your next curiosity, "is there a distinction? between kang yeosang and yeosang?"

yeosang rolled his eyes, "at court, there always is."

you frowned. your father had made such a distinction moments ago, as prince of dorne and as your father. begrudgingly enough, yeosang was right.

yeosang said, "are you getting cold feet?"

at that, you rolled your eyes, "that is one way to describe it."

"you know," yeosang smiled, shifting from foot-to-foot, his armor clinking with each shift, "i spent the morning with the prince while he gave your brothers a tour of the red keep. i must admit, it was quite enlightening." yeosang gave you a critical once-over that made you scowl, even as he said, "here i thought your attitude was an outlier. wooyoung may be even bolder than you, my liege."

the thought of yeosang and hongjoong spending an entire morning with yunho and wooyoung made you grimace. you could only imagine what was exchanged between them. you probed, "you spoke to them?"

"quite a bit about many things," yeosang snorted, his eyes growing distant for a moment, "sparred even."

your frown deepened at that. you hadn't seen any bruises on your brothers or hongjoong during lunch. you said, "i should hope you lost."

a bubble of laughter spilled from yeosang's lips. it was a genuine thing, loud and encompassing, echoing off the walls and filling the quiet of your halls in a way it hadn't seen since you first stepped into your wing of the red keep. yeosang shook his head, said, "praying on my downfall, are you?"

you could not help the smile at his laugh. it was a contagious thing, and it was new. it was nice. you were right in thinking that genuineness suited yeosang. still, he was a kang, and he'd always be a kang. and, after that, he was hongjoong's kingsguard and best friend. you said, "i would never."

"your brothers asked after your lessons, so we took them through the motions of your day," yeosang gazed flickered over yours, eyes searching, and all the mischief gone. all that was left was a look that felt as if he could see right through you and into your head. he murmured, "they love you quite a bit, don't they?"

"as i do them," you bristled slightly at his tone. "you don't appear too happy about that."

yeosang let out a small, humorless laugh. you found it jarring compared to the belly-ache of a laugh he let out earlier.

"surely you understand why."

you only stared at him. his smile fell.

he said, "wars have been started for less, y/n. much, much less."

~.~.~.~.~

the morning of your wedding, your septa and the maids entered your bedchambers with a determination that made you laugh, despite everything. perhaps you were on the verge of madness since you hadn't slept at all, something your septa had admonished you for immediately.

westeros wedding traditions were a long, tedious thing, especially coupled with all the vows you'd have to recite in the sept to the gods. you were not even sure whether you'd have to participate in the added old kim tradition of taking dragonglass to hongjoong and your lips. the thought made your stomach churn. you doubted you be allowed to complete any dornish wedding traditions. the rowdiness. the fun. the lack of formalities. it was something you loved when you'd attended a wedding as a child. something you wished for yourself once upon a time. and then, there was the bedding ceremony. where your friends would carry your spouse to their chambers during the feast, disrobing them as they carried them through the halls, before tossing them onto the bed. your spouse's friends would do the same to you. then they'd lock you in the bedroom, laugh and tease you both to their heart's content, and leave you to consummate the marriage. it was a vulgar, terrifying tradition, one you might have felt different about if your spouse was not prince kim hongjoong.

your stomach turned at the thought of it.

you did not get to see your family again, as you were whisked through the motions of the day, and the nerves clawed at your insides each time you caught a glimpse of them, only to be pulled away.

the queen straightened your clothes as you stood in the halls behind the closed doors to the sept, the seven-sided prayer room where vows were made, where you were to walk down the aisle. yeosang and mingi stood at either side of the door.

the queen, bent and tired and smaller than you remembered, smiled gently, and she said, "good luck, dear."

it felt like a warning.

you found yourself asking, "who is going to walk me?"

the queen looked at you with sad eyes. she said, "the king is your ward. he would like to give you away."

no.

you shook your head. it was a small thing. you did not know if you would make it down the sept with the mad king and his claws on you. you'd vowed long ago you will kill him before he could ever touch you again. the thought rang in your head. all day, you'd wanted your mother or your brothers, or even your father, for just one moment. yet, even now, king kim wanted to flaunt the power he had over lord jeong and dorne.

you looked at the queen. you said, "it is tradition for my family to walk with me."

the queen's brows furrowed.

your chest was tight.

you said, "i have never asked you of anything, your grace. please grant me this, at least."

you did not expect much. she tugged at your collar once more, before she turned and left.

you looked at yeosang and mingi. mingi smiled sweetly. he said, "you look wonderful."

you thought you were going to cry. it felt as if you were walking to your execution. as if they were dressing you up like a pig for slaughter. you'd blinked at mingi, once, twice, and his sweet smile slipped from his expression, turning into concern.

yeosang only pat mingi's back and said, "get back into position. we're to start soon."

in the end, your father hooked his arm through your elbow, and he said, "endure, my child. just for a little longer."

you looked up at him, and your fingers curled around his arm, and maybe he was not your father anymore, but he was for a little while, and that was what kept you holding on, you believe.

the music was loud, and you kept your focus straight ahead, on the septon. not on hongjoong. never on hongjoong.

at least until your father walked you to your designated spot, and gently pried your fingers off his arm as he took his seat. at least until you were facing hongjoong, and his gaze flickered to your hands, to the way they remained balled fists at your side before he met your gaze. the septon spoke and spoke, but hongjoong's gaze remained on you.

his white hair curled at his shoulders, lying loose. today, it was not so messy, as if someone had taken a hair comb to it. his robes were regal black and red, made of silk that matched the outfit you'd been put into. silver chains fastened his cloak to his robes, and his hand was adorned with silver rings, both old and new. his dark eyes remained fixed on you, his sharp features somehow softer as he looked at you. kinder. perhaps that was because of the sunlight streaming in from the windows above. either way, his gaze lingered in a way that made the nerves so much worse. you focused on the details, until the septon's words echoed around you, jolting you from your thoughts, "look upon each other and say the words."

you were given the words by your septa, to list off the names of each of the seven gods. your voice sounded steadier to your ears than you thought it could be. you were glad for it. hongjoong listed the names alongside you, both your voices ringing together in the room.

then the room went silent, and hongjoong watched you with unreadable eyes, his jaw ticking slightly. the septon looked at you expectantly. you swallowed, before you said, "i am his, and he is mine. from this day, until the end of my days."

the septon looked to hongjoong. he smiled, and it was a small thing, the corners of his lips lilting up. he held your gaze as he said, voice low, voice ringing into the silence, "i am yours, and you are mine. from this day, until the end of my days."

if your heart stilled because of him or the way he changed the vows to speak directly to you, or because you were now wedded to prince hongjoong of westeros, you would not know, for hongjoong then said, "with this kiss, i pledge my love."

you'd froze, and he stepped close, his eyes flickering over your face for a moment, before he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. it lasted mere seconds. the mad king shook his head from his place behind hongjoong. as hongjoong moved back and you both turned to the clapping and hooting audience of court members and nobility, you did not think you could endure any longer. you met san's eyes, to the right sat next to his father, and he smiled kindly, and you looked to your family then, and they sat rigid and watchful, too polite, and you were too overwhelmed to think let alone react. hongjoong's hand remained in yours as you were both ushered from the room first, down the aisle, to the feast.

~.~.~.~.~

"how wonderful that i may finally call you my child through marriage," the mad king reached over and dragged his long nails along your cheek. you suppressed a shudder. he looked at hongjoong, said, "perhaps you have proved yourself useful at long last, my son."

you watched as he threw his arms back, as he gestured to your father, beckoning him forward, and he said, "not only am i in possession of an army fourteen thousand strong, but i may now welcome another child to my family. the gods have truly blessed us, have they not, lord jeong?"

your father smiled through his teeth, "extraordinarily, your grace."

the mad king threw his head back and laughed, his voice booming through the great dining hall. he shouted, "let us feast then! to a blessed union and new beginnings."

then the king stumbled to his throne, and hongjoong scoffed under his breath.

your father was quickly joined by your mother. your father did not say anything, but your mother reached over and pat your cheek, wordless before she downed her glass of wine. she looked to hongjoong, and said, "you will treat them well."

"yes, of course."

"that was not a request, your grace."

hongjoong blinked. your mother stepped down, back to the table. wooyoung was in deep conversation with san, while yunho and mingi exchanged a bow - a sight that made your heart warm, strangely enough.

hongjoong said, "i finally see where you and your brothers get your audacity from."

you glared at hongjoong.

he let out a breathless laugh, before he turned away from you and sat at his spot at the head table, his mother between him and his father. his gaze swept over the guests at the feast drinking before it lifted up to meet yours. he gestured at the seat next to him. you did not wish to endure any longer.

but you still sat down. without a word or a glance hongjoong's way, you took the wine cup in front of you and downed it. a servant came scurrying your way, refilling it immediately. you'd blinked at the action - they'd never done such a thing for you before.

you downed another. and another. you looked at hongjoong. he only laughed.

you looked down at your family. your father mingled as he should. so did you mother. yunho looked up at you, and he raised a glass to you, and you drank from your seat at the table, and wooyoung rested his chin on his palm as he smiled sadly up at you as he spoke to san, and the beast at the pit of your stomach wished to burst from you right then, in front of everyone. you wished to burn everything here, and burn yourself with it.

you wanted to go to your bedchambers, with the caged windows, and you wanted to stare at the ceiling. you wanted to return to being a mere ward.

but you were a kim now, moreso you think then you'd ever been a jeong, let alone dornish.

~.~.~.~.~

you were drunker than you'd wanted to be when the guests called for the bedding ceremony. it was a flurry of movement. one moment, you and hongjoong were sitting at the table watching your guests dance. and the next, you were being tugged from the chair and tossed into the air. hongjoong's laughter was a loud thing. you could see him being pulled away in the other direction, yunho and wooyoung tugging him along. you'd blinked when you realized what was happening, panic settling in your stomach.

mingi tossed you in the air. he murmured, "sorry" before he tugged at your cloak. that was all that was tossed aside. you looked over his shoulder as yeosang trailed after mingi, not so subtly pushing any of the other drunken noblemen or lieges pushing their way towards you. mingi grabbed a shoe and tossed it back. it satisfied their need for tradition, you realized, and it did not leave you disrobed. your fingers curled around mingi's shoulder in thanks. mingi merely kicked open the door to hongjoong's bedchambers and placed you carefully on the bed. yeosang waved everyone out.

moments later, hongjoong stumbled into his chambers, his hair a mess, and his cloak missing. his silk shirt was torn. otherwise he was also clothed. still, you would not have put it past your brothers to have bruised hongjoong up under the guise of the bedding ceremony. the thought made you smile, despite everything.

you sat on his bed, watching as he paused at the foot of the bed. you could hear drunken teasing and laughter beyond the closed door, but the sheer fact that you were utterly alone with hongjoong made blood rush to your ears and your heart race and that overwhelming, angry feeling you've felt all day rear it's ugly head.

hongjoong peered down at you, tilting his head as his gaze swept down your form. despite the messy hair, and torn shirt, he still looked so regal, larger than life really, and you watched with bated breath as he stepped closer. one step, two steps, until his shins knocked against the side of the mattress, inches from your feet.

he bent at the waist, until his face hovered above you. it was a slow descent, and you held your breath all the while.

he lifted a hand, and brushed his fingers along your cheek, your jaw, the cool touch of one of his rings making you jerk away. you said, "what are you doing?"

"touching what's mine."

you'd blinked.

he said, "is that not what we vowed to each other. i am yours, and you are mine."

"i don't -" you shook your head, said, "i am not yours. i am no one's to own."

he raised a brow, still hovering, dark eyes still watching, and you could not endure any longer.

you pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him. he stumbled back, surprised. even as you rose from the bed and repeated, voice sharp, anger bubbling at your chest, "i am not yours, and i never will be."

then he laughed. he laughed, and it set something off in you. something angry and vindictive, something that had been growing inside you all this time, waiting for you to allow it to rear its head. you shoved him again. harder.

he stumbled back once more, and you kept shoving him, until his back hit the wall. it was like the hallway all over again, except this time, you were so angry and overwhelmed and absolutely exhausted with hongjoong's games that all you wanted was for him to shut his mouth.

his laughter died quickly. before you could say anything, he shoved you back. you blinked in surprise, making a move to push him, but he shoved you once more, and you stumbled back. his shoves were softer than yours, small pushes that made you step back because you did not want him to touch you. you'd used much more force. still he pushed you. once, twice, as many times as you him, until the back of your knees hit the bed and your legs buckled at the impact. you fell back onto the bed, and he followed you, climbing onto the bed, knees on either side of your legs and his weight a light pressure on your legs. you smacked him hard, so he reached for your hands, his fingers curling around your wrists as he pinned them away, the rings on his fingers digging into your skin. he peered down at you, annoyed, "did you think i'd allow this a second time? one time is fine, but how many times have you hit me?"

you struggled against his grip, but he kept you pinned to the bed, merely watching you thrash with a strange look in his eyes. you said, "fuck off."

"how many times?" his voice was low, annoyed, even as glared down at you.

"i - don't know." the struggling was fruitless. you both knew it. so you stopped, scowling up at him. his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his eyes dark. you vowed, then, that you would never allow yourself to end up in such a position with him again. you spat, "can you blame me? i do not want this. would you not do the same if you were in my position?"

for a moment hongjoong merely studied you, before he sighed and let go of your wrists. often, you wondered if he even knew how to imagine himself in other's positions.

he rolled off you, sitting cross-legged at your side on the bed as he peered down at you. "contrary to what you seem to believe, i am no monster, y/n. i do not bed anyone without their enthusiastic consent. i will not have you, y/n, until you ask."

his voice was a low thing. kind almost. it settled over all your feelings, and it broke something inside you. you pressed your hands to your face, to your mouth, but you were breathing too hard and too fast, and the ache in your chest became too large, too heavy, too painful. it was everything you'd felt throughout the night. it was everything all at once, and it was too much. you stared at the ceiling - it was taller than yours, more dizzying. the entire room was so much bigger, and you felt so small in hongjoong's too-big bed.

you said, voice muffled by your hand pressed to your mouth to quiet yourself, to hold yourself together, "do you know what my father said to me today?"

hongjoong had already rolled off the bed, had shrugged his torn shirt from his shoulders, and you'd averted your gaze from his bare skin as you waited for a response. acknowledgment. why you needed him to acknowledge your words, you did not know.

after a moment of shuffling, hongjoong stood over you at the edge of the bed, peering down at you. he wore his sleeping robes, and his eyes were a heavy, unreadable thing. you took that as enough of a response. enough acknowledgement.

"he told me to endure. and i thought i could but -" you pressed your other hand to your stinging eyes, your chest heaving. you felt as though your chest would cave in with the heaviness of your father's words and his actions, and the fact that you were here now in hongjoong's bedchambers, tied to him until the end of your days. all for a game of thrones you had no hand in. a searing part of you wished someone would start a war for you, but you were not worth such things.

"you've endured for over six years," hongjoong said, peering down at you, "you would think your father would have kinder words for you after all these years."

you dropped your hand from your stinging eyes and looked up at him, "i do not think fathers know how to be kind."

hongjoong blinked rapidly at you, glancing away briefly, his eyes lingering across the room. then he looked back down at you as he spoke, each word slow, thoughtful, "is this how we reconcile? over our unkind fathers?"

you laughed then, you could not help it. hongjoong's gaze remained fixed on you, the corner of his lip tipping upwards. you said, "we could."

"we could," hongjoong said with a nod.

you'd blinked at him, watching as hongjoong reached out and brushed a finger down your cheek, along your jaw, under your chin.

you stared at him as you said, "we won't though, will we?"

"i'll consider reconciling if you beg me for it," hongjoong smiled softly, his touch along your jaw softer still. "i'll give you all the power you've ever wanted. all you have to do is beg."

his voice was a low thing, and your emotions were on high. his touch drew you in, though you did not want to admit it. in this moment, you'd considered it. for a moment, you considered giving in. who were you, but a creature of dorne in a gilded cage, meant to shadow the future king of westeros. nothing more, nothing less. you were tired, and you did not wish to endure any longer.

but, he wanted you to beg. he wanted you to need him, and you refused. you did not wish to need anyone any longer. not san and storm's end. not your father, or even your brothers.

despite it all, you did not want it.

so you reached up and pushed his hand from your face. hongjoong chuckled, a soft thing that settled under your skin.

he said, "one day, you will."

he said it with such certainty, the itch under your skin and the beast in your belly grew ten times larger. you were never quite so zealous, but every nerve in your body wished for you to prove hongjoong wrong. to have him grovel for you instead.

"let us pray that you live to see such a day," you said. your words were very much treason, but hongjoong did not bother to comment on it. instead, he only grinned, all teeth, and sparkling eyes.

he said, "go to sleep, y/n. you're drunk."

[jaeyunbaeun]

[2] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "nothing can hold down the sun."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: fantasy typical violence, marriages of convenience/arranged marriages, some very unsettling situations - the mad king is like actually mad and creepy. tw for a scene involving a dead infant and mentions of miscarriages. hongjoong is very toxic as well but he has silver hair and he's pretty

-

behind the tapestries in king's landing, there were narrow corridors, secret passages really, that led beyond the red keep and into the streets of king's landing. at least that is what hongjoong told you after he'd handed you a black cloak to slip on and pressed a finger to his lips before he pushed one of the tapestries to the side, revealing stone stairs leading into darkness. you'd stared on in surprise.

he said, "it's a family secret."

then he slipped into the narrow corridor, and you'd followed him.

he looked back at you often, grinning, his dark eyes dancing, and your heart slammed against your ribs the further you went. whether that was because of the adrenaline, or because of something else entirely, you were not sure. you did not ruminate on that feeling much, only suppressing a loud laugh when hongjoong slipped on a particularly wet stair, only to catch himself on your arm.

the streets of king's landing were as narrow as the secret passages. the cobblestone was wet from the day's rain, and the stench of rain and trash rotting hit you hard. the crowds were heavy still, despite the weather. the atmosphere was quite lively. men shouted down the streets, singing drunkenly as they pranced by. people scurried about their business, knocking their shoulders into yours if you did not move away quickly enough. the curiosity you'd held since you were a child roaming the streets of sunspear never quite extinguished, and, the further you went, the louder the streets became and the freer you felt. you'd been confined to the red keep for so long, you'd forgotten what the world felt like, what traveling amongst the common folk sounded like, and the exhilaration curiosity brought you. you'd explored sunspear alongside your brothers plenty of times. wooyoung used to hook his arm through your elbow and drag you to the stalls. yunho would exchange coins for street food, letting your and wooyoung split his without much protest. you could see them here, wooyoung in the boy running through the crowds, ducking beneath swinging elbows and bags, and yunho in the boy bargaining loudly with one of the sellers. you could see them here as you remember them, as the young boys you left behind.

for a moment, your awe and excitement dwindled into a deep sadness. you mourned not seeing them often when you were alone in your chambers, but to know that you still imagined them as you remembered them, that you have not seen them for years and you could only imagine how they've grown, pained you. you'd clutched your cloak closer at the thoughts, pushing away the wave of anger and sadness. it would drown you if you let it, and now was not the time. prince hongjoong was not the person to feel such sadness around, and the streets of king's landing was not the place to feel such a way either.

in a blink of an eye, the crowds felt tighter, shoulders pressed too close, the rowdiness around, you the drunken chants, felt louder. drunks laughed as they pushed back at anyone who touched them. you'd pressed into hongjoong's side, then, frowning, and he peered down at you. you met his dancing eyes, the raise of his brow, and the sideways grin. he'd angled his body so he could press his hand to the small of your back as he guided you through the crowd, shouldering anyone that got too close away without glancing back.

his silver hair remained tucked behind a cap, out of sight as it would immediately give his identity away. women called prices from stone doorways. one stepped in front of hongjoong, bringing both of you to a halt, her skirts swishing all about as she dragged a hand along hongjoong's chest, her fingers curling there. you'd stared at it before watching as she leaned close and spoke into hongjoong's ear.

hongjoong only shook his head. she leaned back, her hand still curled on hongjoong's chest, and she then leaned between you both as she said, "are you certain? i have a special for partners."

you'd blinked in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks, and hongjoong only threw his head back and laughed, shaking his head all the while. she took her leave after that, one hand patting your arm while the other patted hongjoong's chest before she was gone in a flurry of wispy silks.

you'd willed the warmth of embarrassment in your cheeks away, just as honjgoong pressed your back to urge you to keep walking, even as he leaned over, his lips against your ear, and said, "we're almost there."

you'd nodded.

the crowd thinned out as you turned down a particularly damp alley, and hongjoong pulled on the fabric of your cloak, gently pulling you to a stop. he opened a small door to the side of the alley, and it had another set of stairs, this time headed upwards. hongjoong gestured for you to go in first. you did.

the ascent was short, and you'd emerged to familiar scents and a dimly lit congregation room of sorts. you took a look around, even as you followed hongjoong to a table in the corner. the patrons minded their own business, and the barkeeps carried small plates of food and drinks. there were men and women laid out on colorful cushions, draped prettily in silks and textiles with patterns that reminded you of sunspear, though the colors were more gaudy than you remember. the scent of baked bread and a woody, earthy mixed with the softness of roses filled the room. it reminded you of the perfume oil your mother would dab onto her skin. your heart twisted in your chest at the familiarities.

"what is this?" you'd asked, turning to hongjoong. he was already seated, leaning with his chin against the heel of his palm as he watched you stand there gawking. slowly, you took a seat across from him. your hands trembled against the wooden table, so you drew it to your lap. hongjoong's eyes followed the movement, before he met your gaze.

he said, "some people in king's landing have a taste for exploring from home. the head barkeep is supposedly dornish."

you'd blinked, gaze flickering to the barkeep in question. he had familiar features, and the familiarity was what made you unable to look away for a long moment. at least until hongjoong waved down one of the other barkeeps. they brought a pitcher of ale and fresh, steaming bread. that was most familiar of all. you hadn't seen something so simple since you left sunspear.

you'd blinked, said, "why did you bring me here?"

he'd shrugged, his right shoulder only, and he said, "they do not have things like this in storm's end."

you'd frowned. hongjoong took a sip of his ale. he still appeared so high strung.

you took a bite of the bread. tentative, worried. it tasted familiar. not quite the same. that was how this whole place appeared. like a poor imitation of the real thing. and that was what it would always be, because nothing would ever compare to the real thing, to your home. however, the imitation still had you clutching the bread in your hand and blinking away the sadness gathered at the pit of your stomach. you'd swallowed around the bread. it was hard to swallow.

you said, "i did not know they had things like this in king's landing."

"neither did i," hongjoong looked around, his dancing eyes watchful, curious even, "i came upon this place a long while ago with yeosang. he'd mentioned you'd like it here."

you'd frowned, "neither of you care for dorne. why would such a place appeal to you?"

"my father does not care for dorne," hongjoong corrected.

"is that not the same?"

"no," hongjoong's jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists beside his pitcher of ale, "it is not."

you'd nodded, but did not press.

hongjoong sighed, "i am not my father, y/n. at least, i do not want to be like him."

"how so?" you'd asked, raising a brow. you saw too many similarities between hongjoong and his father. perhaps the madness was not there yet, but you'd wondered often when it would start to show.

"jealous, possessive, unfaithful." hongjoong frowned, "mad."

"and you've decided you do not possess any of those traits?" your voice sounded too skeptical, even to your own ears.

hongjoong narrowed his eyes, his expression growing guarded. he said, "yes, i am nothing like him in that regard. do you disagree?"

you'd frowned at the question, "i don't believe i know you well enough to agree or disagree, my lord."

"we can change that," hongjoong leaned back, regarding you with an amused smile, "if you'd like."

you'd frowned at his change in demeanor, taking a bite of the bread instead. you'd taken bread with too many meals, and you used to sit with yunho in the kitchens and watch as wooyoung helped knead the bread with a concentrated furrow to his brows. yunho would ridicule the expression on his face and wooyoung would attempt to throw flour at you both, the head cook chastising the three of you before he could.

you said, "i miss home. my brother loved making this."

hongjoong blinked at that.

after a moment of silence, he said, "tell me about it."

and you did. you were not sure why, since hongjoong did not like you, and he ridiculed you whenever he could, but you found yourself leaning your elbows on the wooden table and recounting stories of your brothers, your mother, your father, of sunspear.

you said, "wooyoung wanted me to go to the dragonpit. yunho wanted me to, as well, but he is too polite to ask. woo wanted to read about dragons, so i snuck in there that night for him."

you'd never admitted the reason behind the dragonpit to him. he never seemed to care.

but here, he nodded, and he said, "if you'd just asked, i'd have taken you."

"i thought i was a ward."

"yes," he said, "but you are my ward. i'd have taken you on the dragon's back if you'd asked."

he'd grinned as he said that, drawing out the word taken with a small smirk. the implications of his words settled between you both, and your stomach churned.

you said, "and if i asked, you would have dropped me from the highest point in the sky without a second thought."

hongjoong laughed, leaning over the table as he said, "you seem so sure. shall we see?"

"no we shall not. my brothers have received enough details of dragons for a lifetime."

"and what of you? are you not curious?"

"i've had enough as well."

"quite a shame," hongjoong sighed.

the barkeeps brought a dish that you'd only eaten a few times, during your brother's birthdays. it steamed in front of you and smelled divine. it tasted the same as the bread, similar but not perfect, not the same. never the same. your hands trembled as you tore a piece off. hongjoong shook his head when you offered some to him.

you did not want to show vulnerability around hongjoong, but you couldn't help the way your stomach churned, or the way you heart felt heavy in your chest.

you took a long swig of your ale. as you lowered the cup, you met hongjoong's eyes. he studied you well. you did not want to know what the saw there.

still, you murmured, "thank you."

it's a foreign phrase for you in king's landing, especially towards hongjoong.

"no need to thank me," his dark eyes remained on you as he said, "i only ask that when choi san courts you, you think of me. think of this, and of king's landing."

he said it as if you were fond of him or king's landing.

you'd frowned, "do you think that i have any say in who i wed?"

hongjoong's smiled slightly, "no, you do not, but nevertheless," he leaned too close, his hands flat on the table, his face hovering close to yours, his eyes pinning you in your spot. he continued, voice low, the rings on his fingers glinting under the dim light, "think of me. while you sit all pretty and listen to choi san brag of the battles he's won and he tells you of all his moments of righteousness, think" - hongjoong moved his hand to the burn scar on your forearm that peaked out from beneath the cloak - "of" - his fingertips were gentle against the rough skin as he finished, voice low, too soft, "me."

you'd blinked, letting out a breath you hadn't realized you'd taken. you leaned back, said, "we should get going. it's late."

hongjoong did not protest. the walk back to the red keep through the narrow corridors was silent. he still stuck to you through the dwindling crowds, still let you lead the ways up the stairs, but he did not say anything, and neither did you. your thoughts raced, but you needed time to yourself to truly analyze what hongjoong meant. he was high strung and intentional with his actions and words. you wondered, briefly, if this was another form of entertainment to him. the two of you held your boots in your hands so that you did not track muddy footsteps through the red keep, and you stood in front of your chambers, hesitating.

you swallowed, "what was the reason for all this?"

hongjoong pursed his lips, and his eyes danced despite the darkness.

you spoke before he could say more pretty words, play prettier games. you said, "no one is here. it is just us, so," you sighed, "speak candidly."

hongjoong tilted his head, "i could have your head for such implications."

his tone was not mean nor vindictive however. merely thoughtful.

"i could care less. you could have my head whenever you pleased. we'd established such threats years ago," you said with a roll of your eyes, "i am only asking for a true answer. just this once."

"just this once?" hongjoong stepped closer, and though the step was a small one, it felt like a league, an ocean's length truly, and you held your breath. his dark eyes flickered between yours. strands of silver hair hung over his eyes, his sharp delicate features, and you found you could breathe even if you wanted to. he said, "are you sure you want the truth just once?"

you pressed your muddy boot to his chest, dirtying his black cloak in the process, as you pushed him away from you. you said, "is this a game to you?"

hongjoong stumbled at the force of your shove, and shock flickered through his expression. it wasn't often that you saw anything other that amusement or annoyance on prince hongjoong's face. he glanced down at the mud on his cloak, wiping at it with a furrow to his brows.

"you've been here long enough to understand that most things in king's landing are games," hongjoong examined you, "have you not?"

you stepped closer this time, gritting your teeth, and he watched you approach him with guarded eyes and his lips pressed into a thin line. you swung your hand in his direction, anger you've always felt around him filling your chest to the brim, and your boot swung with your hand, swiping to close. you were angrier than you ever were. perhaps the emotions you felt earlier tonight, the fact that hongjoong took you somewhere that reminded you so much of a home and of family you weren't sure you'd ever see again, and you weren't sure if his intentions were true, only heightened that anger. either way, you found yourself tossing the boots to the side, the dull thud resounding all around you both, as you advanced on him. you curled your fingers around the lapel of his cloak.

this was treason, you knew. he spoke of punishments and beheadings often whenever you stepped out of line, and often you were sent to your chambers to reflect on your retaliation towards the prince. but you'd never laid a hand on him like this, so blatantly, so clearly. his eyes flickered from the hand around the collar of his cloak to your face. his expression was unreadable, but he remained quiet, waiting almost.

this was treason, but you did not care.

"you can play games with me all you want, but," your drew his collar closer, and hongjoong kept his dark gaze on yours. the fire in his eyes no longer danced, leaving behind a darkness that drew you in. it was difficult for you to look away, but you spoke through gritted teeth, each word lingering between you both in the silent halls, "my feelings for my people are not something you can play with, do you understand me? i will not stand for it."

"is this a threat?" he breathed, even with your hands at his throat, his held his head high and his eyes remained upon yours. even with your hands at his throat, fighting back, he had something to say.

your fingers tightened around his collar, "it's a warning."

he let out a breathless little laugh. it echoed all along the halls of the empty red keep, bouncing off the walls.

then he reached up and captured your chin in his hand. you jerked, but he held you in place, driving you back until your back hit the wall. you kept your hands tight against his collar, digging your fingers into the skin, while he pressed the pads of his fingers to the skin of the underside of your jaw. the cold metal of his rings pressed against your skin, a shiver running down your back.

his dark eyes danced under the torch above the entrance to your chambers, and you gasped when your back hit the wall too hard. you abandoned his cloak to dig your nails into the skin of his neck. he didn't seem to care.

"threats. warnings." he pressed close, until your hand around his neck was stuck between your bodies, his face hovering over yours. his gaze flickered over your face, lingering here and there. he murmured, "it is all the same to me, y/n."

"it is funny," you raised your chin, maintaining his gaze, and your stomach churned at the closeness, despite everything, even as you said. "because you and your father are the same to me."

his jaw clenched. you wondered, then, if he'd kill you where you stood. he certainly looked angry enough to do it, his fingers tightening under your jaw. you squeezed his neck back, your nails digging into his skin, likely drawing blood.

"i am not my father," he grit out.

you let out a breathless laugh, one muffled by the press of his fingers squeezing at your jaw and your mouth. you did not stand down. he did not appear to like that.

this time, he glared.

"prove it," you breathed.

his eyes flickered down your face as you spoke, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pinched. his grip on your face tightened once more as he said, "i have nothing to prove to you."

"then why did you take me there?"

hongjoong hadn't responded. instead, his expression grew guarded, hard to read, as he suddenly stepped back.

he did not kill you. he did not snap your neck. he let you go, stepping back as if touching you burned him. it was amusing to think a kim could burn, even figuratively. you rubbed your chin, slumping back against the wall, and he watched you do so.

"why?" his voice was low and soft and not at all filled with the anger you expected. he seemed gentle almost, a contradictory thing that did not match the darkness of his eyes. he said, "you said you missed them."

you'd blinked at that, your fingers stilling against the underside of your jaw, "pardon me?"

the gentleness disappeared as quickly as it came as he sighed, shaking his head.

"if i were you, i'd forget about them," hongjoong said, "or at the very least stop admitting your weaknesses to your enemies."

"are you my enemy?"

"well, do you threaten your friends?" hongjoong's smile was unamused, "do you choke them?"

"i suppose not."

your gaze flickered to his neck. you did draw blood. red dripped down his neck, and all you could think was that the rumors were untrue, that the kims bled red like everyone else.

"do you do this to your friends?" you asked then, turning the question back on him.

he smiled, mocking your words, "i suppose not."

there was a moment of silence, quiet, and long, and almost comfortable, despite everything.

"do not dare to threaten me again," hongjoong said it quietly. you looked up to meet his gaze. he continued, "i would hate to return you to your kingdom in pieces. if anything, your poor family deserves better."

you spat, "do not provoke me, then."

you expected him to say something pointed. something that would set you off. you'd already stepped over the line. you didn't think you were above throwing yourself over the line to quell your annoyance with hongjoong.

instead, hongjoong said, "i won't."

you'd blinked in surprise.

"you're the only person in the seven kingdoms who has had the gall to threaten me. i do find the sheer idiocy entertaining enough," hongjoong said. "besides, you'd be quite boring without a head."

you sputtered in shock as hongjoong picked your muddy boots off the ground and pressed them into your limp hands, unable to form a response even as he spun on his heels. without another word, he'd waved over his shoulder and walked away, and all you could do was stare after him.

~.~.~.~.~

choi san, of storm's end, is as kind and honorable as the rumors said. moreso, even.

you walked with him after lunch through one of the outer courtyards adjacent to the godswood, the holy trees looming in the distance with their blood red leaves and ash white branches. you never liked the godswood and avoided it often. in dorne, there were barely any trees, and the white and red trees of the godswood unnerved you, especially when you learned that the people of westeros prayed under them. their leaves reminded you of dripping blood.

san waited for you in the courtyard, examining one of the rose bushes mingi's family sent after he was legitimized years ago. he'd foregone the usual sword at his hip, and his black hair hung loose. you'd taken in his sharp jaw, and dark eyes. when you cleared your throat, he turned to you with a sweet smile and even sweeter tone.

choi san could even be perfect. he pressed his lips to your hand, and his dimpled smile appeared often as he nodded along whenever you spoke. he listened to you, in ways no one in king's landing ever did aside from mingi. you hadn't realized how much you missed it until that moment. he asked you questions about how you were faring, about your brothers and your parents, and it seemed so genuine, it made your heart feel heavy in your chest. you hadn't been around such sincerity in a long while. you understood why everyone seemed to think so highly of him, why your mother suggested him to the queen.

yet, your thoughts wandered to hongjoong, wondering of his intentions, of the way he had moments of kindness interspersed with moments where you thought he would gladly order your death and gleefully watch the kingsguard carry it out. his grip had not left bruises, but as you attended lunch the next day with hongjoong, yeosang, mingi, and a newly arrived san, the bruises and wounds you left on his neck remained entirely too visible. he hadn't bothered to cover it up, his red and black robes unbuttoned for all to see. your septa averted her gaze when she greeted hongjoong, before leaving you in the dining hall. his maester whispered in his ear, gesturing, but hongjoong only dismissed him with a beligerent wave.

hongjoong bowed his head when you entered the dining hall, barely acknowledging your septa, and you'd avoided his gaze. the few moments that you held his dark gaze, the amusement made your stomach churn. you'd greeted san with a bow of your head, however you kept to yourself throughout lunch, only acknowledging san when he asked if you'd like to stroll through the courtyard after. mingi and yeosang spoke to san as if they've known him forever. even hongjoong. you listened to them catch up, feeling hongjoong's burning gaze on you as you made a point to look at everyone and everything but hongjoong. it must have been obvious, because you often heard yeosang snort into his drink. when you met mingi's gaze while sipping from your goblet, he gave you a kind, encouraging smile before he teased san for his poor appetite. oftentimes, mingi's smiles were kind, but they never met his eyes anymore. you weren't close enough to ask him why, so you were only ever left to wonder.

when san took his leave, bowing to hongjoong, yeosang, and mingi, before finally bowing to you.

he said, "i'll see you in the courtyard in half an hour, my liege. thank you, hongjoong, for this meal. i've missed you three."

yeosang and mingi called out goodbyes, and even hongjoong smiled at san. it wasn't vindictive or mean. it was almost uncharacteristic in its normalcy.

you finished your food, making it a point to ignore everyone else in the room, before you took your leave. you'd looked at hongjoong then, and he regarded you for a long moment, before he said, "enjoy your walk."

yeosang giggled. you'd glared at yeosang. mingi smacked yeosang's back in response.

hongjoong's gaze was a piercing thing you desperately wanted to flee from. you left the dining hall with a heart that slammed against your ribs, not even bothering to gather your septa before heading to the courtyard. when san smiled at you, the tension in your chest dissipated a tiny bit.

there you both stood, deep in the courtyard, peering at a pretty yellow flower that stretched high towards the sun.

in the quiet of the courtyard flowers, far from prying eyes, san spoke softly, "may i speak candidly?"

it reminded you of what you asked of hongjoong. you'd suppressed the grimace at the reminder, nodding to san as you smiled, said, "please. not many do around here."

san let out the smallest of chuckles, his shoulders dropping as he released a breath you hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"i came to king's landing to court you, my liege," san turned to face you, his dimples making a small appearance as he smiled, "the queen recommended you, and so did the princess of dorne."

"my mother," you murmured more to yourself than to him, nodding, "the queen mentioned my mother suggested you. i figured...i figured if my mother suggested you, then you'd be all right."

san pursed his lips, and he looked at you with something you could only describe as pity. he said, "i understand your circumstances here, and i am sorry for it. all of us are, back at storm's end."

you shook your head, "i do not care much for pity, lord choi."

san bit his lip, "and i do not care much for the pitiful."

you'd stared at him, turning to fully face him.

san copied your movements, his kind eyes flickering between yours. he said, "my brother asked me to move forward as soon as he read your mother's letter. i...did not agree at first. i am not one to maintain relationships, and certainly not the type to marry. i told him i'd like to meet you first before i decided. i do not," san sighed, "i do not know what happens behind closed doors, and i like to think my childhood friends are as kind as i remembered them to be, but i know the king. i've heard the rumors. i do not wish to pity you, and i do not think you appear to be in need of it, however, everyone deserves help."

you'd blinked at his tone, the softness of it, the way it settled in the breeze and held you kindly. perhaps you found resentment in your heart for the circumstances you were in and towards your parents for placing you in such a situation, but as you looked at san, awash the dreary sun of king's landing, you felt as if you would be all right. you saw your mother there, and she was, despite how far she was. choi san was the love of your mother personified. the words of your mother promising she would send for you, the feel of your mother's fingers against your scalp as she spoke soothing words you did not understand at the time. you'd blinked at san, your chest tight.

he reached out a hand, held it in front of you, and he said, "i swear to you that you will see your family again. if you will have me, i will treat you as my equal in every aspect. if you will have me, then i wish for us to be friends first, and partners second. if you will have me, y/n, i swear to you that you will no longer be a prisoner. you will be given respect. you may come and go as you please. most of all, you will not be pitied."

you'd held back tears at his words. a part of you wondered if this was a game, as well, but san held a sincerity in his expression you could not doubt. you said, "you are too kind, my lord."

"only in king's landing am i considered too kind," san said, softly. "i hope you know that the rest of the kingdoms are not so terrible."

you'd blinked away the tears threatening to fall, nodding quickly as you thought of your home, of dorne. you'd nodded, and he smiled with that same sincere gentleness that made the tension in you melt a bit. perhaps, you would be okay.

slowly, you took his hand, and curled your fingers around his. you said, "if you can swear to me that you do not just speak prettily, then i shall have you."

his smile deepened, and he squeezed your hand tightly as he said, "i swear it."

he held your hand tight, and you believed you could finally be free of king's landing. of the mad king and his son and their mad court.

of course, you were wrong.

~.~.~.~.~

your twentieth name-day was the last name-day you'd kept track of. you'd lost the years after that. they became increasingly quieter and lonelier as the years went by, after all.

san courted you for a long time, and the queen looked pleased when she asked you what you thought of him, and you'd said he was lovely. the queen always treated you with distance. you were merely a duty to here, and you did not hold it against her. you were not her kin, through blood nor marriage. but when you'd told her you agreed, she gestured you closer to the bed. she held a hand against her bulging stomach - she was pregnant again, and the court whispered that she would have yet another miscarriage due to her poor condition, though no one dared say it beyond the shadows. when she raised her arm, her robes fell away, and there were puckered claw marks around her wrists. she did not pull them up. she merely placed her cold palm to your cheek, and she said, "you've grown up well."

"i am grateful for your hospitality, my queen."

she'd laughed, and she had the same dancing eyes as hongjoong. it pierced through you the same way, as she said, "i did nothing. your mother has resented me for it."

"my mother?"

"we are friends, in a way," she said, patting your cheek. "as friendly as one can be when one has taken a parent's child from the other."

you didn't say anything.

the queen sighed, her familiar eyes resting upon you for a long moment. she said, "i am glad you like san. he is kinder than most nobles. he will treat you well."

you'd taken in the sight of her, bedridden and unable to hold the balls and dinners she used to love so dearly. the silence lasts too long as you stood by her side.

eventually, you said, "there's more to it, isn't there?"

the queen smiled. nodded. she drew her robes close, sinking into her bed, and she said, "the king must bless your union before anything can move forward."

you'd frowned, "do you think he won't?"

she sighed, and she looked sad even as she turned her gaze from you. "i do not know what he thinks anymore."

san courted you for a long while after that, and he was patient and kind and worried often whether the king would even allow it. he wrote you letters from storm's end - letters whose seals remained intact when they were handed to you, unlike your family's, lord choi smiling to you as he handed them to you - and when he visited, he took you horse-riding, or you both explored the red keep courtyards, or he joined you in your lessons, or he sat with you in the library and took any recommendations with him. he read what you recommended and sent you letters about them if he did not get to tell you in person.

i think he makes me happy, you'd wrote yunho and wooyoung once, and the very act of writing such a thing down, voicing such a thing to the people you'd loved most in the world, left you in a daze after.

you'd gotten particularly terrible with the sword. mingi held a hand out for you to take. you let him pull you to your feet.

mingi poked at your shoulder, where he'd gotten a particularly terrible hit in, and said, "san's going to murder me if this bruises."

"that wouldn't be too bad. you're quite annoying. someone should off you already." yeosang called as he took a swig of his water canteen. he handed to mingi, who glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. yeosang only shrugged and handed the canteen to you.

you made a move for it, when hongjoong snatched it from your hands. he downed the whole thing, as he eyed you coldly.

yeosang was the one to speak, breaking the tense silence, "how is san, anyway? he hasn't visited in a long time."

you'd never heard yeosang speak with anything but mischief about anyone, but as time passed and you listened to yeosang speak of san, you learned he seemed to respect san in a way he didn't with anyone else. not even hongjoong. he stopped calling you his sweet thing since you'd agreed to court san. in fact, he asked after san more than you ever expected him to. san said they all grew up together - san, jongho, hongjoong, yeosang, and mingi - but you never saw the extent of their closeness until moments like these. it wasn't in their words. it was in the softness of yeosang's voice. in the way mingi would smile in a way you'd never seen before when he joined you to greet san at the gates. in the way hongjoong would clasp his hand over san's shoulders as passed him.

"he said he'd visit soon. he's gone up to visit winterfell."

yeosang's brows furrowed. before he could speak, hongjoong said, "ah, jongho's quite smitten with the north. san always did like playing his diplomat."

mingi frowned at hongjoong, and you knew then you were not imagining his clipped tone.

you said, "what's your problem?"

hongjoong had kept to his promise since that night. he hadn't provoked you as much as he used to, and you almost found it peaceful, but you'd be an idiot if you hadn't noticed that his antagonizing had turned more passive. lately, he'd taken to implying you did not know as much about san as you thought. you didn't think you did, and neither did you expect to as you were both only starting to build a tentative friendship, but you didn't like the smugness in hongjoong's demeanor as he spoke down to you. most of all, you did not like that he still spoke down to you, despite everything. you'd hoped that night bought you a sliver of respect from him, but it only seemed to make him more bitter.

hongjoong had swiveled on you then, and you figured he'd held in his annoyance with you as long as you had with him. he snapped, "you don't deserve him."

that had brought you to a halt. you hadn't expected him to say such a thing, to take that angle.

you glanced at yeosang, who only observed you both quietly. mingi shook his head at hongjoong, but looked on in silence as well. it was always like that, in the end, no matter who you were tied to. you'd hoped it'd be different, since you were soon to be promised to san, but nothing changed. perhaps you've gotten too hopeful since meeting san. you would always remain a peripheral for them, an outsider, a ward, a glorified hostage, and therefore, you would always be treated as such.

"i do," you said quietly, and the anger that always lived in you seared at your insides. you held your chin high as you met hongjoong's furious gaze, "i deserve him and everything he can give me. you cannot tell me otherwise."

"oh? tell me," hongjoong stalked towards you. mingi made a move to grab him, but yeosang pulled mingi back. hongjoong stopped a hairsbreadth from you, unyielding, "tell me, then, what can he even give you that you do not already have here? what did he promise you?"

you're surprised at the way his voice lowered, smoothing over in a way that made you want to grab him by the collar once more. at the way his eyes flickered over your face.

"kindness," you said. "he can give me kindness."

hongjoong laughed.

"hongjoong," yeosang spoke, and you've never heard him speak informally to hongjoong until then. it was always titles with yeosang, even if he used them sarcastically. "don't."

you'd blinked in surprise at yeosang. yeosang never spoke up with hongjoong, and he certainly never spoke up for you. yeosang did not look at you. hongjoong ignored yeosang. he threw his head back, and laughed, and laughed.

"he's going to use you the way everyone else wants to. you're an idiot if you think all you need is kindness. he will only remain kind as long as you are useful."

your fingers dug into your palms, fists shaking at your sides at his condescending tone, at the fact that it felt like once again you knew nothing and everyone else knew everything. at the fact that you were reminded once again that you only existed at your status because of your usefulness.

you copied his tone, "what do you think i need then, your grace? since you seem to know everything about everyone around me."

hongjoong's jaw clenched, even as he leaned close enough to look you in the eye. his dark eyes flickered between yours. your heart slammed against your ribs. his voice was low, "power, and someone who can teach you how to wield it well."

you said, "power is useless for me while i'm in a place like this."

"it's what you want, deep down."

"oh, now you know what i want?"

"tell me then. tell me you do not want power." he pressed, "tell me you do not want to watch me and my father and everyone who has ever disrespected you within these walls to burn."

you frowned. he wasn't wrong. sometimes, you'd hide under the covers and dream of it. a master escape plan that involved the ashes of those that belittled you. but you'd always felt disgusted with yourself afterwards. you never truly wanted such a horrid thing. you never truly wished death on anyone. besides, admitting to hongjoong's words would be an act of treason. perhaps you'd acted on it when you were alone, but neither of you were alone. aside from yeosang and mingi, the servants stood quietly in wait for orders.

"i am not you."

"no," hongjoong's expression turned stony, guarded, as he stepped away. he tossed his practice sword behind him, to a stunned mingi who caught it with practiced hands, and a contemplative yeosang, and he said, "you are."

he walked away, while you seethed.

~.~.~.~.~

san visited days later. he entered the red keep in the pouring rain, but he grinned wide when he saw you waiting, slipping off his horse to walk to you with his arms held wide open. it wasn't the most appropriate behavior, but you'd gladly let him pull you into his embrace.

he'd pulled away moments later, turning to embrace mingi, who had waited with you. later, in the dining hall, after he'd greeted the king, he clasped his arms around hongjoong, patting him lightly on the back, and hongjoong said, "you've been away too long."

san said, "i know. jongho is too sick to take courtesy visits."

hongjoong nodded, said, "give him my regards when you see him again. i'll send medicine and some supplies with you."

it was the kindest you'd ever seen hongjoong. it was as if san's kindness permeated into all those who touched him.

yeosang embraced san after, and mingi clasped hands with san, and they spoke quietly.

afterwards, your septa escorted you both to the courtyard, but the rain was too heavy to walk. you'd waved your septa away, ignoring her warning look as she hesitantly stepped away, and you and san sat at the top of stairs leading down into the courtyard. the pitter-patter of rain echoed around you both.

you said, "what would the chois gain from a marriage alliance with dorne?"

it should not have been the first thing to say to him, but hongjoong's words haunted you for too many nights.

san leaned back on his hands, turning his head to peer at you. he was handsome. his rain-damp hair stuck to his forehead and the gold of his cloak darkened by wet patches. you'd always thought you could learn to love him. for yourself, and your people, and to see your brothers and parents once more.

the skies wept heavily over your beloved courtyard where you once held hope, as san's voice drifted around you, barely above a whisper, "the loyalty of dorne."

"why?"

"i..." san sighed, "i truly do not know yet. i believe it is to strengthen our ties."

"and to indebt my family to yours," you finished for him, despite the fact that he did not keep talking.

san watched as you wrapped your arms around yourself. he said, "i suppose so."

"hongjoong was right, then." you sighed, hating that you'd admitted such a thing aloud, "you wish to use me in your games as well."

"i meant what i said," san spoked firmly. "i meant every word i said."

you dragged a hand through your hair. you said, admitted really, "i despise this, you know. i despise that i must rely on you to guarantee my freedom."

san smiled, held out a hand. he'd looked for you for permission, and you nodded. he then placed it over your wrapped arms, at your elbow. he shook his head, and he said, "nothing can hold down the sun, y/n. the king and every king before him have tried and failed."

his words reminded you of your house's words. unbowed, unbent, unbroken. it was coined because dorne was the only one of the seven kingdoms to have never truly been conquered by outsiders. it was why you were sent to king's landing as leverage. it was why the king was wary of your father. perhaps, it was why you did not let hongjoong treat you as he wished. you'd nearly forgotten it because of your time here. your brothers would chant it when you'd hurt yourself when you were very little and the three of you were doing something you were not supposed to be doing. yunho and wooyoung would crouch beside you and whisper it until you stopped crying. in retrospect, they did it only to get you to keep quiet so as to not get caught by your parents or the servants. but it remained with you.

"they always play games here in king's landing. you can play, too."

"i cannot." you were never good as pretty words and beating around the bush.

san looked sad, "you must."

and he was right.

the skies wept harder, and the sound trickled down your spine. san only squeezed your arm, a comforting gesture.

he was right.

~.~.~.~.~

you saw prince hongjoong again in the library. he rounded a corner and you looked up from your book. he reminded you of the night he'd taken you into the streets of king's landing. high strung, frustrated, annoyed perhaps, the silver rings on his fingers glinting under the light of your candles. his silver hair lay messily over his shoulders.

he met your gaze over the candlelight.

you'd thought long about san's words.

you shut the book in front of you, and the dull thud echoed all around you.

you said, "you were right."

hongjoong's shadow casted over you as he stepped closer. he regarded you slowly, looming, and your heart raced under his gaze. the candlelight danced against the inky black of his eyes.

he tilted his head, "am i dreaming? since when did you admit such a thing?"

you'd ignored him, still holding his gaze despite the way your stomach churned and your palms were slippery with sweat. "i want power. i am -"

you'd cut yourself off.

the front of hongjoong's thighs pressed to the table you sat at as he leaned over and pressed his palms to the table, his face inches from yours. the chain necklace around his neck hung between you both.

you tilted your head up to keep his gaze, to keep from feeling like hunted prey.

his voice was low and soft and settled under your skin, "you are?"

"i am just like you." you swallowed your pride. just this once, san's words still in your head. you said, "you were right."

"i am always right," his grin lit up his face. he reached over and placed his fingers beneath your chin. the metal of his rings were cold against you skin. he said, "and i always get what i want."

those words burrowed right under your skin, where your stomach churned and your heart raced. you'd known you held his focus, but you never knew if he'd admit it like this. what he wanted from you, you couldn't be sure, but you've always believed he wanted you to yield to him. he never liked that you fought back. you did not know how you felt about this, though. you only knew that you hated the way he spoke of you as if you were something to be won. he always spoke of you as if he knew you. you could not swallow your pride when you bit out, "you don't have me. i am not yours to own."

"no," he hummed, "i suppose not yet."

he turned to leave.

you called after him, fingers curled into fists on the table, "that can change, of course. but only if you give me what i want."

you expected him to ignore you. to leave. instead, he paused, his hand on the library door.

he looked over his shoulder at you, silver hair glinting under the moonlight streaming in from the highest windows of the library. you mimicked the picture of insolence he'd always loved to flaunt throughout his days as you leaned forward in your seat, elbows on the table. you could see the raised brow, the jaw clench, and the small smile, even from your spot on the table, as you rested your chin on your palm, even as you said, "are you surprised, my prince? you said it yourself didn't you? i am you," you grinned, "and you always get what you want."

for a moment, you thought he'd stride across the room and strangle you right then.

instead the slam of the library door glanced off the high library ceilings, making you flinch.

~.~.~.~.~

at twenty, a fortnight after the queen had yet another miscarriage - a baby that was carried almost to full term this time, only to pass from complications when contractions began too early, according to one of your more chatty maids - there was a resounding knock at your chambers in the middle of the night.

you jolted from your sleep, your heart racing, and you were quicker, this time, to pull your robes around you before you went to the doors.

yeosang stood before you. he was no longer a kingsguard-in-training. of course it was him, though you hoped mingi would have been the walk to escort you. at least mingi's presence was more of a comfort.

that night, there was an extra moment of silence between you as yeosang looked at you. you could not read his expression. there was another kingsguard there - one you did not recognize.

yeosang said, "the king requests your presence with his small council, my liege."

you'd nodded, but this time you knew what to expect. the king may be mad, but there was a method to his madness, and you were not caught unawares this time around.

still, your hands trembled, and you tucked them under your robes as you pulled them tighter. the other kingsguard led the way, while yeosang walked behind you.

you recognized the path. it was not to the dragonpit, and that brought you a bit of relief.

still, your heart felt as if it would leap from your chest as you came upon the doors to the throne room.

you paused before the kingsguard did. he hadn't noticed. yeosang put a hand on your shoulder. you looked back at him. he nodded. it was not quite encouraging, but neither was it mean. it was a look that said, the sooner you get this over with, the better.

his hand remained on your shoulder for another moment before it dropped away and the kingsguard announced you to the king.

you entered the throne room with your head held high, and your gaze fixed on the mad king. he lounged upon his throne fashioned of the blades of kim the conqueror's enemies. it was sharp and cold and stood as a reminder of what the king's legacy was born from. on each side of the king's throne stood his small council. lord kang, lord song, lord choi, hongjoong, the lord commander of the kingsguard, three members of the kingsguard including yeosang, and the king's maester. you had not seen the king in such close proximity in a long while, due to the fact that he'd shut himself away in his chambers for long periods of time. paranoia, some whispered. hongjoong never said anything about it. you doubted he cared much, though most took care not to whisper of the king around him. his hair was unruly, reaching mid-back, and his nails her longer than ever. you'd remembered the feel of them on your skin, and you could only imagine how painful such a length could be. they truly reminded you of claws.

"it's a shame," the mad king's voice boomed through the throne room, when the doors to the hall slammed shut, "that your son could not be here, lord choi. is that not customary when asking for the king's blessing?"

lord choi looked sheepish as he bowed, "my apologies, your grace. it appears my letters did not reach my son in time. i will make sure he is aware of your decision to bless this union."

the king scowled, "i never said such a thing."

the resounding silence was loud. blood rushed to your head, and you swore he could hear your heart pounding. he'd looked at you, then, even as lord choi said, "pardon, your grace?"

"jeong still holds a force of ten thousand strong. i am no idiot. it has been three years. it is likely it's grown double in size," the king stepped off his throne, descending the stairs as his red and black robes swung behind him. "whoever weds his child will have access to it. why would i allow that?"

lord kang spoke then, his voice, "your grace, lord choi is a part of the small council. his assets are yours."

"no," the mad king cackled, throwing his head back, "no, his assets are yours, kang," he turned to lord choi, said, "and if your were here, i'd have him burnt at the stake for even requesting for such a thing. my ward's assets belong to me."

you watched, wary, as lord choi's expression morphed from surprise to betrayal to a set jaw and a fury you did not think the man was capable of. he'd always appeared as the calm one. he said, "the queen suggested this union to my son. i should hope you remember that my son's and my house's loyalties lie with you, your grace."

at the mention of the queen, the king grew more agitated, shaking his head, "the queen does not have a say in this. if your loyalties truly lay with me, you would understand my reservations."

"then what of lord jeong? what of dorne's army?" lord song spoke up. they spoke of you as if marriage was all you were good for, and maybe it was true in a place like this, but you didn't think this discussion required a meeting in the dead of night.

the king swiveled on you, and you refused to cower this time. you'd had too any nightmares of that first time. you refused to let yourself feel so vulnerable again.

"shall i wed them then?" the king's voice dragged through the throne room, and it pounded against your ears. you'd stared in horror, your gaze flickering around the room. lord kang frowned. lord choi looked downright furious. hongjoong stared on, expression blank. yeosang was the only one who looked remotely as horrified as you did, even if it was only for a moment. the king turned fully to face you, "shall i wed you, and take your father's army?"

his eyes dragged down your form, blue-white eyes seeing straight through you, and the humiliation crept under your skin, only serving to feed your anger. you decided right then, that if no one stopped the king, if he laid a finger on you, you would retaliate. you'd rather die by green fire, hell by dragon fire, then let him humiliate and disrespect you any more than he already had.

he laughed at you. "or better yet, shall i wed you to my newest babe? he's just a fortnight old, but he's already a better heir than hongjoong will ever be."

you did not think he was serious. a fortnight ago, the queen miscarried. there was no babe. there couldn't be. unless-

the king waved his hand, and his maester swiftly left only to appear moments later with something swathed in cloth cradled in his arms. the maester's expression was perfectly still, even as he stepped closer with it. the stench of rotting flesh and strong incense hit your nose first, and you could not suppress the gag, no matter how you wished to.

the king frowned, said, "this is a union fit for someone like you. do not disrespect him."

you stared at him, horrified, at a loss for words. no one said anything. it was as if the whole room held their breath. as if you were a spectacle they could not tear their eyes from. entertaining, hongjoong had said to you once. you caught his gaze over his father's shoulders, and his eyes were wide. concerned, even.

"come now," the king waved his small council closer, "where is the marriage cloak? we can hold the bedding ceremony tonight. it'll be quite fun."

his laugh was a boisterous thing, and you felt as if you would vomit. the stench of the dead child, the fact that no one was putting an end to this madness, it all filled the air, filled you, with dread and horror and anger and fear. you were scared, and helpless, as you were last time. nothing's changed. three years, and nothing's changed.

the king reached out.

"marry them to me, your grace," hongjoong's voice rang through the silence. the king's hand stilled a hairsbreadth from your face. you held your breath. he breathed, "father. please, let my brother rest."

he spoke as if his father was a wounded animal in the corner, as if he wasn't the hunter.

hongjoong pleaded, "please."

king kim never listened to his son. he never liked him. it was well known in the court.

but that night, the mad king blinked at his living son, and whatever he saw there brought a calmness to the king's ever-vibrating madness that you hadn't seen in all your time here. perhaps this was the king before his madness. the king's long-clawed fingers touched your shoulder. he pushed you towards hongjoong, and you stumbled into hongjoong's arms. he'd steadied you before he carefully maneuvered you towards yeosang, who stood behind him, with looking at you once. yeosang pressed a steady hand to the middle of your back, and this time, it was appreciated. it was grounding.

"fine," the king said. "you will marry in a fortnight, and i will discuss the army with jeong once it is done."

hongjoong nodded. you stared at his tense back.

the king said, "you all are dismissed."

yeosang pushed you forward, but you could not move. marrying hongjoong meant you would never leave. you were never going to leave. you could try to escape, but you knew nothing of the geography. you knew nothing. you always knew nothing.

a pair of black boots stood in your line of sight. you were staring at the floor, trying to make sense of what happened. you could still smell the rotting flesh, and you were grateful that the maester covered his face so you did not need to see. slowly, you looked up.

hongjoong stood in front of you. the throne room was empty save for the looming throne, yeosang, and hongjoong. his silver hair was unruly, and he looked tired. his eyes did not dance, and he did not smile.

you said, "you got what you wanted."

anger bloomed across his face, like dandelion drift with the wind when you blow on them.

"would you have rather married a stillborn?"

"i'd rather not marry at all."

"y/n," hongjoong dragged his hand through his hair. his hands were not adorned with rings this time, and they looked smaller, more delicate. all of him did right then. "i -"

"how do i know i'll be safe with you? how do i know you won't turn out just like your father?"

any concern that may have crept onto his face disappeared at your words. he grit his teeth, "i am not my father. i never will be."

"what if you are worse?" you asked. your voice broke on the last word.

you watched a series of emotions flicker across his face, but you were too tired to read them, to analyze him. he opened his mouth, but for once he remained speechless.

so, you said, "i see it sometimes. in the way you look at things. at me. there's something there."

hongjoong's brows furrowed. he murmured, "it is the dragon."

"it is terrifying," you said. "and it's cost me my freedom."

[jaeyunbaeun]

[1] game of thrones-inspired au + "i advise you do not break this one, hongjoong."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: 11k words, been entirely too invested in house of the dragon, so here is that game of thrones/house of the dragon au. y/n is gender neutral however they face several moments of setting-specific misogyny, warnings for fantasy-typical violence, some very shitty situations, and hongjoong being toxic. hongjoong x y/n primarily, with hints of other pairings. their regular last names are replacing the GoT house names, so you don't need prior knowledge of GoT to get this. the names of the places are the same, but they are just cities/places. in case anyone does want to know, though, here are the houses they're based on:

hongjoong (kim): targaryen y/n, wooyoung, yunho (jeong): martells yeosang (kang): lannister jongho, san (choi) : baratheon mingi (song): tyrells seonghwa (park): stark

-

they say that the kims are closer to god than they are to men. they tame dragons as if they are merely horses, and ride their beasts into battle with simple commands spoken in an ancient language. some say the kims themselves are dragons. both are fire made flesh, after all.

however, fire was never meant to be tamed. it is meant to burn.

you were warned of this, long before you ever entered the king's red keep as a ward. your mother sat you down the night before you'd boarded the ship from port, and she brushed her long fingers through your hair as she studied your face as if she were committing you to memory. you thought it dramatic at the time, but later you'd lament that you hadn't taken the time to commit her to your memory as well.

as she brushed her fingers through your hair, nails soothing against your scalp, she said, "i will send for you as soon as this arrangement ends. i will find a way to have your brothers visit often. until then, you must write us often. you will be alone, my child, so i wish for you to keep your wits about you." she'd sighed, "keep yourself warm. king's landing can get very cold." your mother sniffled, "there is nothing kind about the north."

"i am not going that far north, mother. king's landing does not get that cold."

your mother only shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

your father was the one to hold your hand, his other hand resting over your mother's, as he said, voice hushed, "your mother is only reminding you to be careful around the kims. they have dragons. they are dangerous creatures."

"i know that," you'd sighed, "but wooyoung wanted me to send him letters about the dragons."

you did not admit that you were excited to catch a glimpse of them yourself, sighing once more as you said, "mother wants me to stay warm, does she not? the dragons have fire."

your mother made a noise of indignation, and your father shook his head, his fingers curling tighter around your mother's hand. still, a small, fond smile settled on his lips, despite the sternness in his tone, "the sun is warm, my child. fire is worse. it burns."

at the time, you'd wanted to point out that the sun burns, too. there were plenty of days where you'd gone exploring sunspear with your brothers on too-hot days, the southern sun beating down over you, and you'd seen plenty of people reddened from sunburn.

however, you'd only nodded, because your father was already being whisked away by one of his advisors to finalize travel plans, and wooyoung had already taken your attention from your father as he locked his arm around your neck and yanked you in a way that had you shouting at him and your mother berating him. in a bout of uncharacteristic normalcy, however, yunho merely pulled you into an embrace as soon as wooyoung let you go, patting your messy hair back into place.

at the time, you hadn't known the circumstances surrounding the king's sudden call for you to reside as his ward at the time, or what being a ward truly meant for you, your house, and your family. you should have guessed with the way yunho was acting - as your father's heir and the only one of your siblings privy to important matters even at your young age - but you truly thought you'd return to sunspear in time for your next name-day.

wooyoung tugged on your sleeve, and reminded you once more to visit the dragonpit. you'd rolled your eyes, "is that all you care about?"

"do not act as if you're not curious either," wooyoung said with a grin.

you'd rolled your eyes, even as wooyoung drew you into a kinder hug - anything that did not involve a headlock was kind of wooyoung, really. yunho gifted you a new cloak, thicker than anything you'd ever need in sunspear.

"you and mother are both behaving as if i am headed to winterfell. or the wall," you muttered.

"shall i take it back then?" yunho asked.

"no," you'd snatched the cloak from his fingers, frowning at him, and yunho laughed.

as you boarded your father's ship and waved farewell to your mother and your brothers until they were small specks on the shore, you'd never have guessed that this would be the last time you'd see sunspear, with its speared towers and lovely bazaars and hidden passages and narrow alleys adorned with colorful laundry and shadowed courts. you nor your father could have ever anticipated that you would never set foot south of the mountains again.

as the docks at king's landing drew closer, your father kneeled before you, clasping his hands over yours as he lowered himself to your level. the crew averted their gazes; though you are his child, your father is still the prince of dorne, and no prince is to be seen on their knees for anyone.

"please be careful, y/n, and most importantly," he sighed, brushing your hair from your face, "i am sorry."

you didn't understand his words until much later.

~.~.~.~.~

you were only four-and-ten when you first set foot into king's landing. it's a dreary city, made drearier by the damp afternoon weather, and you'd already started to miss home. you hadn't known at the time the circumstances surrounding why the king of the seven kings requested to house you as his ward in his home, the red keep, deep in the center of king's landing. one of the women in charge of your studies during your stay - septa something-or-other - gushed of how lucky you were for the opportunity to strengthen ties between your kingdom of dorne and the rest of westeros.

the very first evening, the moment the septa left you to rest in your new chambers after giving you a small tour of the red keep, you'd sprung to your feet with the intention of visiting the dragonpit. you were not slated to meet the king until lunch the next day - "so that you may be well rested before joining the court, of course," the septa said - and it was late enough that the halls would be empty of most.

so you'd plucked a small candle from your desk. your chambers were smaller than the one you had in sunspear. the bed was lodged next to a tall window lined with golden grates, curtains drawn over the window. the septa mentioned that you would not be able to open the window. you had a small desk with stationary and seals neatly placed, and the floors were covered with red rugs. it wasn't the worst room, but it was certainly not the kind of accomodations you were used to. it was...bland. a room fit for a mere guest, and not the child of the prince of dorne. if you'd taken the time to understand the connotations of such a small action, maybe you would have understood the circumstances of your wardship much earlier.

you stood at the door for a long while, just to make sure the septa would not return, before you'd stepped out donned in an inconspicuous black cloak you'd packed. the halls were empty, and you'd prayed you wouldn't make a wrong turn and lose your way as you tried to remember your way back to the dragonpit the septa had shown you. the tour was not extensive, and the septa merely waved her hands in the general direction of the dragonpit before moving forward.

you'd descended down stairs lit by flickering lanterns. the hairs at the back of your neck stood on end as you scurried down the halls.

you'd walked for a long time, your arm aching from holding up the little candle in your hands so that you had sufficient lighting. after a while, you'd considered turning back. however, you noticed rats scurrying away from the direction you were headed, squeaking as they ran. you'd resisted the urge to scream at the feeling of one of the rats scurrying over your feet. something told you you had not failed in your endeavors.

you were only four-and-ten when you'd found an open gate that creaked softly under the lanterns on either side of the gate. you were only four-and-ten when you'd taken a deep breath and walked into a large room with high ceilings. moonlight streamed through the grated vents above, and you figured you were somewhere underground. under the silver of moonlight, you'd noticed movement at the other end of the room, where the floor sloped downwards into a pitch black darkness you could not fully decipher.

at four-and-ten you were curious, almost to a fault. your heart raced against your ribs as you stepped closer to the pitch black darkness. the hairs at the back of your neck stood on end as crept closer. in the darkness, a growl swept through the silence of the room. a dragon, you'd realized, in both awe and horror.

you'd stepped closer, and chains rattled through the room as glowing yellow eyes appeared in the darkness, floating too far above you. you had to crane your neck to look at it.

you stood frozen on the slope, your mouth dropping open as the creature emerged from the tunnels. only a part of it emerged. just its head, with it's blood red scales and sharp teeth and pointed ears and yellow serpent-like slits for eyes, however that was enough to have you scrambling back. you'd tripped over your cloak, landing on the sloped floor, fingers curling around dirt and stone; nothing.

then the creature opened its mouth. it's tongue was long, black, and a swirl of red - brighter than the candle that was long extinguished, brighter than the lanterns, a cacophony of red, orange, and yellow - filled it's mouth. you'd blinked in shock, before you realized what was happening.

fire. it was going to breathe fire.

you scrambled, and the dragon roared, and there was a shout in a language you'd never heard before. and a scream, and you felt like your arm was being pulled from it's socket as you managed to scramble away from the sloped floor leading into the tunnel, and chains rattled, and the creature screamed, and you felt heat, and your forearm hurt, and -

"what the hell do you think you're doing?"

you'd blinked up at the ringing voice, at the fact that you are no longer in the giant room - the dragonpit, you'd later learn - but rather in the hall you'd come down. a lantern sat on the floor beside the now closed gate, and a boy with a hood over his hair, sharp angled features, and dark, dark eyes stared at you with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression twisted with fury.

you'd looked down at your arm then, and it was red. burnt. fire burns, your father had said, and he'd be quite angry that you hadn't heeded his warning and had gotten yourself burned your very first night in king's landing.

still, you'd looked back at the person standing in front of the closed gate. the lantern light glanced off the boy's features, casting shadows along his face. he saved you, didn't he?

you opened your mouth to apologize, to thank him for helping you, to swear you wouldn't come down to the pits again - you had enough material to send wooyoung his letter and your curiosity had burned along with the skin on your forearm.

the boy stalked closer, and despite his lanky form, he was the same height as you. his eyes narrowed, "i asked you a question. what the hell were you doing down here?"

his tone struck a nerve with you at the time. as a child of the prince of dorne, no one has ever spoken to you in that way aside from perhaps your brothers. who did this boy think he was?

"is that any of your business? what were you doing down here?"

"saving an idiot from being burnt alive, apparently."

you've had quite a few insults through your way, but you were no idiot. you blinked at him, "i did not need your help."

"really?"

the boys smirk crept across his face in a way that had the hairs at the back of your neck standing on end the same way it had when you'd seen the dragon's mouth widening. he stepped closer, until he was nearly nose-to-nose with you, and said, "would you like me to toss you back in the pit so we can see how you fare?"

you shoved him. hard. he stumbled back, and his eyes widened in surprise. "are you threatening me?"

he merely laughed at you, "i saved you."

"saved is an overstatement," you muttered. you didn't like this boy. perhaps you were the idiot for sneaking into the dragonpit, but he was here too. he was just as much of an idiot as you were. your father used to joke that you and your brothers would rather die than reconcile when your egos were bruised. you'd only rolled your eyes at him in response, but perhaps your father was right on yet another thing. you did not like this boy and the way he spoke to you, with his head held high and his tone full of condescension. you'd sooner admit you were an idiot then thank him for saving you. not even the gods would change your mind. as he tilted his head at your words, you shook your cloak of dirt, ignoring the pain in your forearm, and you said. "now if i may take my leave."

the boy crossed his arms over his chest, "will you?"

you'd stepped past the boy, knocking your shoulder against his for good measure, and picked up his lantern. you turned to look at him one last time, his sharp angular cheekbones, his watchful eyes, his stupid smirk, and you lifted the heavy lantern to eye-level. you said, "i'll be taking this with me as well."

before he could respond, you'd turned and left. wooyoung once told you not to turn your back to your enemies, but your arm hurt and you were tired and you'd decided that was enough excitement for one day.

~.~.~.~.~

the next morning, the maids helped dress you. they'd discovered your burn wound then, puckered and red from the heat of the dragon's breath. you'd lied and said you'd gotten too close to the candlelight.

at four-and-ten, you were set to have lunch with the king and queen of westeros. the king was polite enough, though his gaze seemed to look straight through you, despite the fact that he kept an eye on you throughout lunch. the queen's gaze was the opposite. you felt her gaze on you when you were not looking at her. she seemed to be able to see you for all that you were. shortly after lunch began, the doors to the dining hall opened, and the guards announced, "the prince is here."

the doors swung open, and the prince strode in, chin raised. his silver-blonde hair fell in a halo around his shoulders, his kim red robes shining. despite the regality of it all, you recognized his face immediately. it was the boy from the dragonpit, you realized, horrified. no wonder he was at the dragonpit. no wonder he was able to save you. those dragons were his. he is a kim.

"hongjoong," the queen called, "you are late."

prince hongjoong bowed in apology, however when he straightened, his dark gaze landed on you, and he grinned that lopsided grin you've quickly come to despise, and he said, "apologies mother. yeosang's sword lesson ran over."

the king chuckled, "that boy could give you ten sword lessons a day and you would still be bested by any babe off the streets."

hongjoong did not say anything to that, instead sitting at his mother's side, straight across from you. his smile had slipped, but he'd only nodded.

instead, hongjoong met your gaze, and he asked, "who is this, your grace?"

"my new dornish ward," the king laughed then, and you did not like the sound of it. it brought a chill down your back. he said, "prince jeong of dorne entrusted us with his precious summer child. i advise you do not break this one, hongjoong."

"i should say the same to you, father," hongjoong muttered.

your gaze snapped between the two of them. they looked too much alike, with the same shade of silver-blond hair and the same sharpness. the only difference, however, was that the king's eyes were so blue they were almost white, and it was unsettling more than anything. even back then at the age of four-and-ten, you knew something was not entirely right. the prince had his mother's eyes, dark as night, and they were just as sharp, just as jaded.

the rest of the lunch was spent in overall quiet, polite inquiries about how you found your accommodations and when your lessons would start interspersed into the silence. you'd spent the rest of lunch focused intently on your plate.

~.~.~.~.~

"so the idiot is our dornish ward then?"

lessons began the next day, and as the king's ward - "and esteemed guest," the king said in a way that reminded you of wooyoung when he'd give you a compliment on your new clothes; sarcastic and a little mean, though you knew with wooyoung it was always good-natured fun. with the king you figured he meant it - you were scheduled to complete your lessons alongside the prince and his companions, yeosang of house kang and a kingsword-in-training whose father was currently the king's most trusted advisor and mingi flowers, bastard of house song, though there were rumors he would be legitimized soon.

so here you were, after history lessons with the grand maester, prince hongjoong's lopsided grin blocking your way back to your chambers. the septa in charge of your lessons hovered near the doorway, but she did not dare to interrupt. yeosang and mingi hung back, preoccupied with their conversation. they wouldn't interrupt either. it was the prince after all.

"not surprising at all," hongjoong finishes.

"what do you want?"

hongjoong raises a brow in surprise. the septa at the door clears her throat. perhaps you should not be so blunt with the prince, but you remember very clearly the warning his father gave him, and the warning he gave his father back. even at the young age of four-and-ten, you did not like the idea of anyone breaking you. whether that was merely a joke, or something else entirely, you did not want to find out. you touched the burn on your arm, and hongjoong's gaze flickered to your arm. you put the arm in question behind your back.

hongjoong met your gaze once more, and his dark eyes danced with a strange type of amusement. he tilted his head, and he grinned, all teeth, and he said, "i'd like an apology."

this time you laughed, "excuse me?"

"you snuck into my family's dragonpit without permission. most would lose their heads for such a misdemeanor."

"am i not your esteemed guest?"

this time hongjoong met your defiant glare with a slight frown, "do you truly believe such a thing? are you truly an idiot?"

you'd blinked at that.

"oh," he laughed, "you are."

he laughed and laughed and yeosang and mingi looked up from their conversation. yeosang tilted his head, glancing between the two of you. mingi's brows furrowed in concern.

hongjoong started to wheeze, and your patience wore thin. he was laughing at you, and you've never fared well with such a thing. you grit your teeth.

he pointed at you, turning to his friends, "can you believe them?"

this time you'd advanced on him, pushing the hand he was pointing at you with away. you said, "what is your problem?"

hongjoong blinked at his hand that you touched. you watched as he flexed his fingers once, twice, before he looked at you. there was a fire in his eyes that reminded you of the fire forming in that dragon's mouth.

"i understand the dornish have strange customs, so i'll let this slide," he said quietly, "for now."

you'd rolled your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "you're so kind, my lord."

yeosang snorted behind hongjoong.

hongjoong's brows furrowed, and his expression curled into one of annoyance. anger, even.

"yeosang and mingi are guests," hongjoong stepped closer, looming over you, and though he was not any taller than you, his presence, his anger, made you feel smaller. "if the chois from storm's end or the parks from winterfell were to visit, they would be guests."

he spat the word, and you'd blinked at his hostility.

hongjoong stepped too close, but you stood your ground.

hongjoong's tone was low, and the heat of his words alone could have burned you the way the dragon's breath had. he said, too quietly for anyone but yourself and maybe his friends to hear, "you were given to us by your father as a ward. perhaps that makes you valuable, but only as long as your father stays in line. you," he presses a single finger to your forehead, pushing you back, "y/n, are no guest. you will never be a guest."

you are four-and-ten, three days into your wardship, when you realize that you are merely a glorified hostage given to the king by your father. perhaps that was why your father apologized so sincerely, or why your mother appeared so sad, or why yunho kept embracing you. you were alone in king's landing, and everyone knew it. everyone knew it, but you.

you swallowed the growing lump in your throat as hongjoong grinned.

he said, "you understand now, do you not?"

you'd only stared at him, and the clear amusement he was getting from this.

he grinned, stepping back, before he waved his hand. the angry fire dancing in his eyes turned to ashes, but the infuriating grin was still there as he said, "now go on. apologize."

you would have. your mother would have wanted it. your father, too. perhaps not wooyoung, but certainly yunho.

but you'd only found yourself scowling at him. without a word, you'd spun on your heels and walked out the door, and you did not dare look back.

~.~.~.~.~

"sweet thing," yeosang's voice was quiet. "hiding from the prince, are we?"

yeosang's voice wasn't kind, nor was it unkind. it held a hint of amusement you'd come to associate with the kangs. you'd met his father briefly, and he'd looked at you as if you were scum beneath his feet, though he held an amusement in his tone as he asked if you were faring well. the court played games with you, you knew, even at such a young age, and you wondered why your father sent you here.

you understood it, to a degree. history spoke of it, of how your kingdom of dorne never truly bent the knee to the king of the seven kingdoms until very recently. how despite that, your kingdom acted as it's own separate entity on more than one occasion. you were a perfect tool to keep your father in line. the king would raise you in king's landing, perhaps even find you someone he trusts to betroth, and your father, yunho, wooyoung, your mother, they would all be tied to the kingdom of westeros even further. meanwhile, your father would not step out of line knowing that the wrong move could very easily end with your beheading. still, you could not help resent your father for such a life.

you turned five-and-ten, and the queen promised to host a lovely dinner in the hall, however, you were still lonely and it was quiet, and maybe that was because you were sitting in the maester's grand library with a small mooncake in front of you. the letters from your family were few and far between. the king's hand, yeosang's father, was the one who handed you your family's letters, and you wouldn't put it past him to keep some hidden from you. all your letters had their seals broken for a reason, and the hand always raised a brow at you as if he were daring you to question the opened letters. you never did.

you'd already defied someone of importance, and he'd made it his mission to antagonize you every moment he could.

lessons would mean he'd find some way to call you derogatory names without so much as an admonishment from anyone. whenever you did the same, you'd get sent to your chambers to reflect on your shortcomings.

the grand maester would speak of plants, and you'd ask a simple question. hongjoong would mutter something under his breath, and yeosang would laugh, delighted as he always was when hongjoong's mirth was directed at you. mingi would shake his head, but remain relatively quiet. the maester or septa in charge would scold hongjoong half-heartedly. whether the lessons were of book or sword, you'd end up facing some kind of comment from hongjoong.

("ugly, stupid, and terrible with the sword," hongjoong admonished, shaking his head, "how are you meant to find a spouse, y/n? my mother can only do so much."

yeosang snorted, and mingi sighed.

you took the flat side of the wooden sword in your hands and smacked him upside the head. it wasn't hard, but it was enough to evoke a gasp from the kingsguard training the four of you. before anyone could react, you'd swiped his feet out from under him and pressed the hilt of the wooden sword to his chest. you let it hover for a second before you tossed the sword to the side and said, "what was that, my lord? who is terrible with the sword?"

he lay sprawled on his back, blond hair strewn about his head, streaks of dirt across his flushed cheeks. he grit his teeth, and his eyes darkened as he peered up at you. you'd long tossed the sword to the side, but the kingsguard still yanked you back by the scruff of your neck, and hongjoong looked downright murderous. still, he did not call for your immediate punishment, as you'd expected. instead, he'd waved a hand and barked for training to continue.

you were matched with him more often than not for sparring matches, and you did not need to look very far to understand why. if hongjoong's hits left bruises, he would never know. you would not let it be known by anyone, even when hongjoong landed a smack across your face in the very same lesson. you fought back, landing your own sickening smacks on him, relishing in the way he winced at some of your blows. you'd ignored the kingsguard barking at you to soften your blows.)

yeosang stepped further into the library, taking the seat across from you, his eyes landing on the mooncake in front of you. his blonde hair lay at his shoulders these days, and his fragile features curling up into a small smile as his gaze returned to yours.

you scoffed at him, "i do not hide from anyone."

"a prince's wrath is nothing to take lightly."

"a prince should have better things to do."

yeosang laughed, and the sound rang throughout the quiet library. "you would think, huh?"

"what do you want?"

"i only came here for a book, yet," yeosang grinned, leaning closer, his voice dropping into a conspiring whisper, "i found you instead."

you'd rolled your eyes.

yeosang laughed.

you said, "get your book, then."

"i'd like to stay for," he gestured at the cake in front of you, "whatever this is."

"my name-day. it's today."

"ah," yeosang nodded, "i saw letters from your family on my father's desk."

there it was. that semblance of yeosang's father in yeosang. he raised a brow, and you'd frowned. you were never one for the court's penchant for playing games with pretty words that ran in circles. you said, "will your father keep those from me as well?"

"only if you do not behave," yeosang shrugged, "incurring the prince's wrath is not behaving, is it?"

"he deserves it," you frowned.

"oh," yeosang leaned his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his palm. he observed you quietly, "he absolutely does, but who are we to decide what gods deserve?"

"you think hongjoong is a god?"

"he certainly thinks so."

"do you even like him?"

yeosang tilted his head, grinning in a way that made you wish you could dissect his thoughts. he said, "i care for him."

"you did not answer me."

"a sweet thing like you would not understand, i think. you dornish are -"

"i've heard plenty of you kangs."

this time, yeosang's expression turned dark, in a way you hadn't seen before. he raised his brows, his chin still resting in the palm of his hands. "oh?"

you hadn't, not really. only that his mother used to attend to the queen before she sent him away. rumor had it lady kang had spent a night in the king's chambers, and the queen had found out.

you said, "your mother -"

yeosang slammed his hands against the table, and the mooncake slipped from its plate, the goblet of water spilling a bit. yeosang's voice maintained that quiet musicality to it, even as he said, "continue that sentence, and you will make an enemy of me as well. i do not think you want that, y/n."

"just give me my damn letters." you'd forced your voice to remain steady, despite the way your heart raced, "that is all i wish for."

"a nameday wish? how sweet," yeosang's anger dissipated, and he merely smiled pleasantly.

you'd grimaced. it's been nearly a year since you'd set foot in king's landing, yet the madness of the people at court never ceased to unsettle you.

still, you found yourself saying, "do you do this often?"

despite it being nearly a year since you left sunspear, since you had lunch with the king and queen, the words he spoke to hongjoong lived in your head. i advise you do not break this one, hongjoong. you laid in bed wondering at those words. at hongjoong telling his father the same. hongjoong's clear vengeance against you since you've arrived did not quite border on breaking, but the very thought of it brought a chill down your spine. you hadn't dared speak of it to anyone, not even the maids you'd gotten close with. certainly not in your letters to yunho or wooyoung - those remained dry and polite, littered mostly with the sentiment of how much you missed them, since you knew damn well yeosang's father was reading them. being the king's ward, alone in a strange, admittedly cold place, with the implication of the prince breaking someone, frankly, terrified you more than his mean words and sparring matches. the thought of it always made the burn scar on your arm ache.

yeosang frowned this time, "pardon me?"

"the king said hongjoong broke others. do you like to sit with them and make small talk during the process?"

yeosang eyed you strangely then, a small quiet analytical gaze you did not want to be on the other end of.

he leaned back, regarding you.

"if he wanted to break you, he'd have done it long ago. if anything, you should be wary of the king. they do not call him the mad king for nothing."

you'd blinked. yeosang pressed his palms to the table and hauled himself up.

you'd only watched, quiet, as yeosang turned away from you.

before he shut the library door behind him, he said, "happy nameday, y/n."

it was not happy, and perhaps yeosang knew that it would not be.

the queen held a celebration for the court, and everyone danced and drank, and it had felt lonelier knowing your family could not attend.

mingi bowed to you before taking your hand to dance, waiting for permission before he could place his hand on your waist. he was as tall as yunho, and you'd sometimes believed they would have liked each other if yunho were allowed to visit you. that thought only made you sadder. you saw wooyoung in the few moments that brought you laughter here at court, and you saw yunho in the the even fewer moments of kindness afforded to you. you watched the queen throw her head back and laugh as hongjoong twirled her in circles, and you saw the king smile slightly, and you missed your family too much to have a happy nameday.

every year, it would end the same way.

~.~.~.~.~

you were halfway through seven-and-ten when the hidden whispers of a mad king were no longer relegated to the shadows. the queen stopped hosting dinners and balls, and more often than not she was delegated to her chambers.

she'd called on you once, something about a betrothal request from a choi that your mother had sent her way. you'd entered her chambers that smelled strongly of lemons and incense, and she'd greeted you in a dress that did not suit her tastes. she'd always been one to wear the most fashionable of dresses, but this outfit was loose and long, the neck high, and a scarf wrapped loosely around her silver-blonde hair.

"my mother?" you'd repeated, the word feeling foreign in your mouth. you hadn't wanted to sound too hopeful lest the queen noticed and felt you were ungrateful of your time in the red keep under her care.

"you've spent two years under my care," the queen said, "i am obligated to find you a good marriage. i've asked your mother for suggestions."

that was strange to you, how the queen was in charge of your betrothal, while your mother could merely make suggestions. two years away from sunspear, and your mother could only make suggestions for you.

it made you angry, the longer you thought about it.

when the queen dismissed you, there was a rage at the pit of your stomach that you could not dispel, and it was unfair. you were sent here as a ward - a glorified hostage forever used as leverage against your family and your people - and despite the dinners held in your honor and the maids who waited upon you and the new clothes bought for you, you were neither of king's landing nor sunspear anymore. your mother could not even make decisions for you, let alone your father. and, you resented them for it. you did not want to, but you resented that they were not here, that they did not prepare you for this, that they could not say anything of substance in their letters.

the rage sat and stirred on, until there was a slam against your chamber doors while you slept.

you wrapped your robes around yourself as you answered the door, and a member of the kingsguard bowed his head and said, "apologies, my liege. the king requests your presence with his small council."

at seven-and-ten, you were escorted in the dead of night to the one place you'd vowed never to return to since your first night. since the burn. the dragon.

you stood at the entrance to the dragonpit with your heart racing against your ribs and your eyes locked on the back of ser johnny's back, ser yuta behind you.

the door opened. you were announced. you'd entered, pulling your robes closer.

stood at the center of the room, with the crown sat on his head, stood king kim, his white hair standing on end, a heavy juxtaposition to prince hongjoong's neat appearance. even in his sleep robes, he remained vigilant, staring at his father's pacing, expressionless.

members of the king's small council stood beside prince hongjoong, from house kang and house choi and house song, even yeosang stood by hongjoong's side. yeosang was training to join the kingsguard, so you figured that is why he was by hongjoong's side. the queen, however, was not there.

there was a dragon, however, bigger than anything you'd ever seen before, the beast curled behind the king, eyes closed, breaths coming out in loud puffs, the dim lighting of the pit dancing off the dragon's scales.

the king swivels on you the moment you enter the dragonpit, the fire of the lanterns set in front of him dancing in his blue-white eyes.

his voice echoed all around you as he shouted, "do you understand what your father has done?"

you blinked, confused, your gaze flickering to the only other people you recognize in the room. to hongjoong, yeosang. yeosang did not look at you. hongjoong met your gaze briefly, but his expression remained expressionless. he'd gotten better at that, over the two years since your animosity begun. swordfights would end with you sprawled on the floor more often than not, and his expression as he looked down at you, the blunt sword pressed under you chin, would bring a chill down your spine. you won sometimes, and he'd only grinned when you did. when he won, it was different. he still called you an idiot, more than before. he still knocked his shoulder into yours if you did not move out of the way fast enough. you did the same back, and your septa would scowl at you and reprimand you before hongjoong could say a thing. this kind of lack of expression, though, scared you. it reminded you just how alone you were, despite spending so much time with the same people. there was no companionship there, and everyone knew it.

"answer me," the king's voice is loud.

"i do not, your grace," you're glad your voice was steady, strong even, because you sure as hell did not feel that way.

all this time, you'd hoped the mad king allegations were merely exaggerations. the time you'd glimpsed the king, he'd seemed happy enough. he berated his son in front of anyone, and perhaps you'd enjoyed that too much. you heard rumors that the king took a liking to hurting the women he bedded, and that he bedded women often. you never thought it'd extend to the queen, but no one ever considered violence against women as the reason for calling a king mad. the king barely left the red keep, and he had an obsession with green fire, burning those that defied him. you heard he refused to have his fingernails and hair cut, and as you looked at him, you noticed the sharp long claw-like nails, the long hair. a dragon-like demeanor, really.

"he's gathered a force ten thousand strong. we live in peaceful times. i have brought peace to the seven kingdoms, yet he is gathering an army without informing me."

at seven-and-ten, you're faced with the mad king in all his glory.

the mad king turned on you, strode closer until he could grip your chin, his long nails scratching at your skin. he said, "what part of you should i send your father, my dear ward?"

the reminder of your position, and how helpless, and useless, you really were, made the rage bloom in the pit of your stomach.

the king's right hand said, "your grace, if i may?"

the grip on your chin tightened, and you're sure his nails drew blood. he'd nodded.

"provoking dorne when they are ten thousand men strong will only disturb the peace you've graciously given us," yeosang's father's voice echoed, "we keep the child, and that army of ten thousand can be ours. jeong cares deeply for his children."

the mad king twisted your face as he turned to look at you. his face was gaunt, hollow, and resisted the urge to jerk out from under his touch and gaze. "how do you propose we keep the child?"

the councilman from house choi spoke up, his voice low. you met his gaze over the mad king's shoulder, and it was kinder than you expected, "marriage, of course."

"to your house?" the mad king cackled, but he let go of your face, and you'd rubbed at the stinging wounds, subduing the urge to step away from the man. "do you think i am foolish enough to allow your house access to an army of ten thousand, choi?"

"your grace, i would never."

"your grace," the king's hand spoke, "my son is also -"

"oh," the mad king swivels on his hand, "you would like the army instead?"

your gaze slid to yeosang in that moment, and you caught his grimace as he met your gaze. you gaze flit sideways, to hongjoong, and he frowned at you.

the king swiveled on you. he looked you over, like he was deciding something, before he called, "hongjoong, give me your knife."

your breath felt stuck in your chest as you watched hongjoong pull his knife from its leather pouch at his waist. he walked closer, his gaze not once falling on you, as he handed off the knife to his father.

"the prince of dorne requires a reminder, i think. you are right, lord kang, about marriage, but until we figure out who will betroth my ward, i will need something," he grabbed your chin once more, and you could do nothing but stand frozen in place. the king was mad enough to set you on fire if provoked, and perhaps you weren't so cautious when facing hongjoong, but this was different. this was the king, and no one was there to stop him. he dug his nails into your jaw, and he grinned, his teeth sharp, as he brought the knife to your face.

you squeezed your eyes shut as he yanked at your hair and cut a chunk of it off. the knife nicked your scalp, and sting of it had you trying to settle the tightness growing in your chest. he pushed you back, a chunk of hair in his hand, and he said, "wrap this up nice and pretty, and write our dornish prince of tonight's discussion, lord song." the king eyed you with a grin, "tell him next time, it will be fingers."

with that, he'd turned and sauntered out the dragonpit. his dragon remained asleep in front of you. the kingsguard followed after the king, along with lord kang and lord song. lord choi stopped in front of you for a moment, a small frown on his lips, before he side-stepped you and followed after the king.

you heaved for air you did not have, but you willed yourself to hold onto your wits until you'd reached your chambers. you looked up, and you were left with no one but the dragon in front of you, and you thought you should at least write to wooyoung about this dragon since you'd avoided seeing dragons since that first night, and -

"y/n," hongjoong's voice was low, quiet, as if you were a small animal that would run at the first sign of loudness. you looked to the side, to hongjoong stood before you, yeosang at his shoulder, his brows furrowed the tiniest bit as well. it was strange, to see even a modicum of concern in their gazes. you did not want to deal with it.

so you'd shook your head, and spun on your heels. your robes trailed behind you as you hurried out of the dragonpit. you heard your name, but you did not care to stop and listen.

thanks to hongjoong, you'd been aware of your place in the red keep and king's landing. you knew your status. still, you believed yourself protected in some way. you had status. you were still an honored guest, in the loosest of terms. but, your mother could only make suggestions for betrothals and proposals and marriage pacts, and the king put a knife to your face with too much ease, and now you were going to marry whoever the king wanted. that thought scared you more than anything. who wanted to remain at the whims of a mad king? the anger you'd felt for a while curled around your stomach, and you felt sick with it. you had nothing, and you missed everything, and you were so terrified of what the future held for you.

fingers, he'd said.

most of all, you were angry that you were so helpless, and -

"y/n." his voice was loud, but his touch on your elbow was louder, especially when he jerked you back, pulling you from your racing thoughts. you spun, yanking your elbow from his grip.

prince hongjoong was never tall - something you'd ridiculed him for on more than one occasion - but his presence was a looming thing. it loomed over you like a tree. he stood there, even as your tight chest heaved, his dark eyes flickering over your face.

he said, "where the hell are you going?"

"to bed," you gritted out, and you were unsure why you were letting your anger roll off you now, with hongjoong of all people. he was the mad king's son. the prince. he hated you. did you really need to give him reason to retaliate against you tonight as well? did you not have enough?

yeosang was not with him. you were relieved about that, at least. hongjoong's expression twisted into something unreadable. something you could not decipher. he sighed, "let me walk you back at least."

"why?"

he frowned. your tone still held so much anger, perhaps more than before. his brows furrowed, and he looked at your as if you were being strange. he asked, "what do you mean why? you're bleeding, and i had yeosang grab ointments for -"

"is this pity?" you'd stared at him, barely able to control the vindictive anger in your tone, "because if it's pity, i do not want it."

hongjoong's jaw clenched, "i'm trying to fucking help you, y/n."

"i don't want it," you snapped back, stepping closer to him. "i don't want your pity, or your help. i don't want any of it."

"i'm not asking if you want it. you're bleeding."

"and your knife and your father is the reason for it, hongjoong," you'd forgone formalities, and that made hongjoong still in front of you. "i'd rather die of infection than have you help me."

yeosang appeared around the corner, just as you spoke the last word. yeosang peered between hongjoong and yourself, his gaze flickering from your head to your toes before he handed hongjoong the basket of ointments.

hongjoong's gaze flit downwards, to your arm, and you realized he was looking at your burn. you pulled your robes up around you, tight. hongjoong's jaw clenched at your reaction, but waved a hand and turned on his heels as he said, "then die."

and it was angry and mean, and exactly what you expected of him. yet, the anger at the pit of your stomach churned and churned, and the loneliness you'd felt all these years hit too hard.

"fuck you," you'd called, with as much conviction as you could muster.

your voice cracked a bit around the second word. it was embarrassing. yeosang blinked at you. san swiveled to face you once more. his voice was cold, sharp, like the knife had been against your hair, "is that any way to speak to your prince?"

you'd glared at him, and he took slow steps in your direction. each step he took had you stepping back, despite yourself.

"answer," he said, stepping too close, "me."

he mirrored his father, and you both knew it. he did it on purpose. his eyes danced with black fire, and he reached up and pressed his hand to your face. his fingertips pressed against the cuts caused by his father's nails. you closed your eyes. he let out a small laugh, and he spoke so quietly, only you could hear him, "i thought you didn't want my help?"

you opened your eyes, and his face was too close. he tilted his head. you spat, "i don't."

he brushed his fingertips along some of the broken skin on your face, and it was a kind touch. much kinder than his next words.

"one day," he hummed, "i'll make sure you'll need it."

then he shoved the ointments into your hands and swiveled on his heels. he walked away, leaving you alone, and you swore to yourself you'd prove him wrong, anger swirling in your stomach.

~.~.~.~.~

at eight-and-ten, you attend the ceremony where mingi and yeosang took the cloak, and joined the kingsguard.

"sweet thing," yeosang grinned as he said it, watching you fiddle with the practice sword in your hand. hongjoong was late for practice, his lessons with his father running late, and you were left with yeosang and mingi for company.

over the years, you'd warmed up to mingi. you wouldn't declare him a friend. no one really was a friend to you in the red keep. but you'd consider him something more than an acquaintance. he often picked out books for you to read. he did not like to read the books, rather he enjoyed listening to you recount the stories to him.

"i love the way you tell stories. you make them sound more exciting," he said, with a big smile, and kind eyes. you liked the way reactions he'd give you, and the way he hung onto your every word.

he was a knight for all the right reasons. to help protect those he was sworn to, and lay down his life for his oath. at jousting tournaments, the nobles were smitten with his smile. his jousting stick would be full of flower wreath favors. mingi was good, and right, and everything you liked about the stories of good nights.

yeosang was the opposite. his popularity soared during jousting matches, and you did not blame anyone for it. he had good looks and a confidence to him that matched his skills. however, he liked to sit down across from you while you read and ask you questions until you glared at him. he only ever laughed at your glares.

worst of all, he'd taken a habit of calling you his sweet thing, knowing damn well the name had you seething. it reminded you of that night when you turned five-and-ten, and he was right about the mad king.

"what?"

you'd rolled your eyes as you turned to him, placing the end of the blunt practice sword to his chest to keep him from stepping closer.

yeosang's eyes glittered as he peered at the sword against his chest. he said, "i've taken the oath. you know what that means, do you not?"

"that your head has grown ten times in size?"

mingi giggled, "that is exactly what will happen."

yeosang rolled his eyes, playfully swatting at mingi with his sword. he shook his head, said, "my father cannot betroth me to you."

after that night, you'd heard nothing about your betrothal. it was hard to sleep most nights, since you lived in fear that the king would call you from your chambers once more and ask for a finger or two. you had no idea what your father had done in reaction to your hair, but perhaps no news was good news.

your letters from your family were short and quaint - which you figured was because they knew their letters were being read as well.

i should hope you are well. everything is intact, correct? yunho had asked in a letter following that night. it was lighthearted enough, but it was the only indication you had that that night hadn't been a figment of your imagination, aside from the scar along your hairline you now have.

the queen mentioned marriage to the elder son of lord choi, san, but then she mentioned yeosang. that was it.

"thank the gods," you'd responded.

yeosang smiled, even as he said, "i know you do not care for me, and i care very little for you, but i should advise you that whoever you wed will determine your fate."

"is that all i'm good for? a marriage pact?"

"sweet things like aren't good for much else, i'm afraid."

you'd pressed your sword further into his chest.

"yeosang, leave them alone," mingi stepped in, pushing your sword from yeosang's chest. he said, "yeosang likes to defy his father. this has nothing to do with you, he's just being an ass."

yeosang pouted, "i am not."

"you are," you muttered.

mingi said, "we know san. he's a kind man. he'll treat you well."

even under the dreary sun of king's landing, you saw sadness in mingi's expression as he spoke. yeosang snorted beside you, said, "what mingi wants to say is that he-"

mingi punched yeosang in the stomach. yeosang gasped, wheezing out a laugh. you'd frowned between them.

hongjoong arrived then, just as yeosang caught his breath and mingi raised his fist in warning. if you thought yeosang and mingi were strange, hongjoong arrived to the practice field fuming.

his jaw clenched and his fingers flexed around nothing. he tossed a practice sword in yeosang's direction and nodded towards the field, ignoring you completely. ever since that night, he'd avoided sparring with you.

the first lesson following that night, ser johnny handed you your sword, his eyes flickering to hongjoong expectantly as he held out the sword. ser johnny and ser yuta stopped questioning why hongjoong insisted on sparring with you a long while back.

hongjoong shook his head, turning to mingi and nodding. mingi'd raised his brows in surprise, but he'd joined hongjoong in battle, readying his sword. you'd figured it was because you still hand bruises on your face and a bandage on your head, but it continued long after your wounds healed. you sparred mingi often. sparring yeosang was him driving you into the ground moments after the match begun, smirking all the while.

you'd confronted him about it once, after a jousting tournament. you did not mean to, but it weighed on you, strangely enough. you'd given your favor to an older knight from the riverlands who lost terribly to hongjoong, thrown from his horse while hongjoong pranced up and down the tourney stands rousing the crowd. he'd returned to lady jihyo of hightower, and pressed a kiss to her hand.

you'd drunk too much ale, and it was too late for a person of your status to remain at a feast filled with rowdy drunk lord and lieges, but you'd snuck away from your septa and found hongjoong downing a pitcher of ale in the corner of the hall while yeosang and mingi cheered him on.

"oh my," yeosang slurred, grinning as he leaned over the table, holding a palm out for you to take. during the tournament, yeosang, mingi, and hongjoong held their jousting spears to your stands. many nobles placed their favors on their spears, so you scooted past them, ignoring them in favor of the knight from the riverlands. "this is no place for a sweet thing like you."

you'd smacked his hand away, and yeosang laughed, bowing dramatically. you'd rounded on hongjoong, who eyed you with a tilt of his head, his silver-blond hair falling into his eyes. he brushed it back, said, "yeosang is right. you should be in bed."

you'd plopped down on the bench beside mingi, taking his ale, and you downed a bit for yourself. the sweet warmth of the ale soothed your nerves, and the ever-present anger you felt around hongjoong.

"are either of you going to make me go to bed?"

yeosang cackled.

mingi shook his head, smacking yeosang.

hongjoong said, with a raise of his brows as he leaned close, "i can. if you'd prefer."

"no."

he leaned back, regarding you slowly. it left you feeling vulnerable in ways you did not often feel vulnerable, even during your time in king's landing under the scrutiny of so many nobles. he said, slurred voice low, "then stay. drink."

and you did. it was frowned upon to drink so much, because you were not a prince or knight. you were barely a warrior.

yet you sat and drank and drank and laughed with your enemies despite what they'd stood by and allowed the king to do to you.

mingi twirled you round and round until you fell over in a fit laughter, and yeosang stroked your cheek until you clasped your hand around his and pulled him away, and he dropped his hand in response.

and hongjoong watched you all the while, his dark eyes melting the way the night sky melts into the earth at the horizon.

you'd confronted him later, when you were left with your arms around hongjoong's neck as he carried you to your chambers. it was sad, you think, that you'd missed embracing someone else. your family, and the people of dorne, were affectionate. no one dared to touch anyone with such affection in king's landing.

you buried your face into hongjoong's shoulder, and you murmured, "do you think they miss me?"

a pause, before he murmured, "who?"

"my brothers. my family."

"i don't know," he said.

you'd nodded, and his grip around the underside of your knees tightened as he continued walking through the halls.

eventually, you said, "is there a reason why you've stopped sparring with me?"

he chuckled, and the sound reverberated through his body to yours. you were too close to him. he shifted, straightening you on his back. "do you miss me beating you?"

"i won sometimes."

"hardly."

you groaned, and he snickered, and eventually you reached your chambers. he let himself in without asking. he kneeled into front of your bed and you slid from his back onto your bed. he turned to face you, his gaze flickering over yours for a long, long moment.

you said, "the septa said i should not attend sword training any longer."

"i know," he dragged a hand through his silver hair, his silver rings glinting under the dim candlelight of your room, "i told her you will attend every lesson. including sword training."

"is your word law now?"

his sideways smirk glinted in the light, "it is where it matters."

"do you think you could have stopped your father then? with just your words?"

you didn't mean to say that, but you were drunk, and your tongue was loose.

hongjoong froze where he stood, with hand in his silver hair, and the candlelight casting long shadows up his face.

he crouched beside your bed where you laid, and he brushed a hand along your hair, right where the knife left a scar, and he said, "i said where it matters, y/n."

you'd blinked at that. did what happened to you not matter? or perhaps he is punishing you for denying his help that night? why do you even care? you'd hated him since the moment you laid eyes on him.

you looked at him, and he peered down at you, soft orange candlelight reflecting off his black eyes. his fingertips flit from your face to your outstretched arm. to the old burn scar there. his fingertips grazed along the skin. up and down. up and down.

you slurred, "and when it's my fingers next? then what will you do?"

"do you want my help? is that what you're asking for?"

you shook your head. hongjoong's stroking of your burn scar paused. you said, "i don't want it. i meant what i said."

"and i meant what i said," hongjoong curled his fingers around your forearm, brushing his knuckles along the scar.

slowly, he rose to his full length, and you stared up at him. his expression grew stoic, unreadable almost, as he peered down at you.

he said, "sleep well, y/n."

you did not.

he did not speak to you so candidly since that night.

and he did not continue sparring with you.

now here he was, fuming as he landed blow upon blow on yeosang. yeosang caught each swing easily, though the blows were strong. you could see yeosang struggling to keep up.

hongjoong ignored you throughout the lesson, and you found yourself getting annoyed the longer it went on, until the lesson came to an end and mingi patted your back kindly.

~.~.~.~.~

"choi san, of storm's end, first of his name," hongjoong said. "he's a noble man."

you sat with a book in your lap, the library quiet. too quiet. with hongjoong stood above you, his shoulder-length hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, you felt there should be someone there as a buffer at least. the heat radiating from him reminds you of fire, untamed, unbridled.

"i do not speak in riddles, my prince."

hongjoong shut his eyes, and his jaw ticked. you watched the movement curiously. he seemed high-strung today. "he's coming on the morrow to meet you."

"ah," you'd sighed, "i still do not understand why i should care."

hongjoong fell into a crouch in front of you, his elbows resting on his knees, his hair falling into his dark eyes. a side smile filled his expression, and made your stomach churn. whether that was in fear or excitement or curiosity was beyond you, especially when he placed a hand adorned in rings atop the book in your lap, and he said, "come with me."

"pardon me?" you blinked between his hand and his face.

"i have something to show you," and the smirk that dripped from his lips settled under your skin.

you said, "at this hour?"

"at this hour."

he spoke softly. you considered him carefully.

"is it safe?"

he could see your resolve slipping. that was why he removed his hand from the book on your lap.

hongjoong tilted his head, the candlelight of the library dancing in his dark eyes. "as long as you stay by my side."

you ask, "will you stay by my side?"

hongjoong only smiled, and held out a hand.

after another moment, you took it, and he helped you to your feet.

in that moment, you should have known exactly how the whole story would end.

[jaeyunbaeun]

INTERLUDE | OPENING SEQUENCE

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

This scene that locked me up The sequence that's like forever Stay for me, stay for me, stay for me I can't get used to it, used to it, used to it

🎧: Opening Sequence - TXT

previous | INTERLUDE | next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader (san x reader)

w.c : 10k ( im sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, slow burn, polyamory, smut , bittersweet, angst, MC's background is inspired by Black Widow's background with the Red Room, reader is called sweet heart/baby, hints of abuse/manipulation, mc’s past, mention of their training days, injuries, scars, loss of virginity, first time, very very very longgggggg chapter I’m sorry

REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : surprise? SPECIAL CHAPTER!!!! I hope you guys like this one. I didn’t initially plan to write this but after posting chapter 005 I wanted to write something different or something else and this came about. I hope you guys like. Thank you for being so patient with me 🥺💗

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

“How long do you think before they find us here?”

The young assassin paused, his heart dropping. Never has he ever heard you, YOU, out of all the graduated students of the Academy, sound like this.

You were always so sure of yourself but now, he was hearing a completely different person yet so familiar. When was the last time he heard you like this? He was quick to recall it and that ache in his chest began to feel as if he was burning from the inside. This small, unsure, and weak voice belonged to the little girl he grew up with before the academy changed everything and he never heard you like this again.

Til today.

He was scared to turn around.

If your own resolve was shaking then the situation was worse than he thought.

San shook his head and continued to look around the padded room looking for any signs of a possible escape. Even if you two did get out, you two would have nothing but your knives and your fists.

“No one’s going to come for us, aren’t they Sannie?” You choked out his nickname so softly, that he felt his heart broke. “At the end of the day…” you went on, the fears of a little girl that San had failed to protect breaking through the facade the Academy molded and chiseled you in. “I’m just one of their many weapons. The other girls in the Academy…they’re good. Better. I will be of no use soon.”

San’s hands were beginning to tremble uncontrollably as he reloaded the gun. You were the Academy’s proudest creation, you had set the standard. Though those things were true, these were your fears. They were just as real.

“We’ve sent a Morse code to them. They’ll find us soon. They won’t let you go as easily.” San swallowed the lump in his throat trying to maintain composure and not let the impending doom of you both get to him.

What made him sadder was that he was right. The Academy won’t let you go. You were chained to them in a way, he wasn’t.

“Sannie…”

They could afford to lose him. He was a part of the top three of those who graduated with him but he wasn’t the first of the batch.

“They’ll come for you.”

The room that confined you two was dim. The skylight let some moonlight shine through to illuminate what it could in the darkness you two were submerged in. Did your captors really believe the Academy would buy their ransom for two of their assassins? They would come with a brute force that would leave them nothing in ashes. If no one came for the two of you, they’ll kill you both or worse, sell the two of you off to the market.

San would kill them before they even thought of selling you as a slave.

“Sannie, it’s cold.”

His composure broke then.

Gone was the weapon the Academy created.

Without any hesitation, San went to where you had been sitting (on the white sheet mattress in the room they threw you two in) then pulled you onto his lap with his arms wrapped around you. Your skin was cold to the touch and his desperation to hold you only grew. He cradled you so gently in his arms, scared that if he embraced you tighter you’d shatter.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, resting his chin on the top of your head as he kept his gaze up, fighting back tears and the urge to press his lips on the the crown of your head. “I’m here. I'm not going anywhere.”

You were taught to never take anyone’s words seriously. Always doubt them, they once said. Doubt them until they prove it because you can never know what they mean and yet, you believed every word San said.

Every promise he has ever made, he kept them. Everything he said he would do, he did. But even if he didn’t prove to be a man of his word, the part of you that you pushed in the dark, would believe him blindly.

His strong arms held you in a way you never knew you needed to be held and the warmth of his body was giving you, melted away the armor you didn’t have the luxury to take off.

“Sannie,”

He loved it when you called him Sannie. Since you two met, he was your Sannie. If you asked him now, just once, to be yours, he’d be yours forever.

“Yeah?” He caressed your back in gentle circles, taking note of how your shivering lessened and your breathing calmed.

You didn’t continue your thought. It got stuck in your throat. How could you possibly say what you wanted to? Instead, you opted to bury your face into his neck. You’ll think about it for a bit…because what if it was the wrong time to say it?

“Can I hold your hand?”

Your voice was such a soft whisper, that San almost didn’t hear it. It was like you were embarrassed to have even asked, even though he’s held your hand so many times in secret during your training days when it was an evaluation day.

San hummed in response and carefully, still cradling you in his lap with your head leaning on his chest, slipped his hand with yours. He stared at your hands as he did. His hand was bigger than yours and his heart dropped when he realized you had taken off your gloves. Such delicate hands were bruised at the knuckles and hands that only ever touched or brushed him so gently.

He knew in your head you could only see how stained your arms were with blood.

“Your hands are cold,” he pointed out, pouting a little at the fact and like he did when you were younger, he took both your hands and brought them close to his mouth to breathe warmth into them.

You felt your heart thump particularly strong in your chest. The feelings you’ve had for San that you had hidden away because you were told you could never be loved nor love for you were only a weapon, returned.

Because you are a weapon, you would only ever hurt the people you love.

“How are you so warm?” You chuckled, falling into a comfort you denied yourself for so long. “If I remember correctly, you were such a small petite thing when we were younger. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it past the selection.”

He laughed softly at the memory. “I didn’t want to be left behind. I need to be with you no matter what.” He let himself speak freely and honestly, letting his hands warm yours.

“I would’ve purposely failed if that was the case. I wouldn’t want to continue on without you.” You admitted, feeling the ache of your muscles finally hit you.

“They would’ve known if you did.”

“That’s true.”

“I would catch up to you no matter what. To be by your side…” San paused, afraid to say what he wanted to in fear that you may not feel the same. “For a long time, I believe that’s where I belong.”

His words caught you off guard. Did Sannie know? Did he know that you loved him? There was no way he could but the possibility of attraction between the two of you could not be ruled out so easily. It was there. You both knew it. You two just never spoke of it.

“Do you still believe that?” You asked, feeling a little braver and desperate.

What if this was it? It had been four days since the enemy got the upper hand and immobilized you and San and sealed you two up in this room. What if the Academy did abandon you both? Weapons are replaceable.

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

He’s always been there.

You lifted your head off his shoulder to gaze up at him.

Gone was the little boy you worried about whenever you two trained separately. The one who was easily thrown and bullied around by his much stronger contenders. You were afraid of losing him even then because you had wondered why someone with such a gentle heart could ever hurt people. For goodness sake, he continued to let himself get beaten up just because one of the much younger trainees out of desperation and hunger, stole a piece of roasted sweet potato.

Before you now was a man. San still had the handsomeness he’s had since he was younger except it matured and bloomed into sharp features and a striking beauty that lost all the softness of his younger self. His body was no longer frail and sickly. His back and shoulders became broad, lean muscles had grown and given him more shape that reminded you of the prowess of a black panther.

But when he smiled.

He was the Sannie you cared for and loved so deeply…so quietly.

“Can you promise me something?” You asked, feeling your heart begin to ache.

“Anything for you.” He smiled softly down at you and you wished he hadn’t because it’d made your heart want him even more.

“If we get out of this alive…” you felt tears begin to form in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll leave the academy.”

“Y/N—,” he began to protest, sitting up a little bit you shushed him gently and changed your positions.

You cupped his face gently with your hands and looked straight into his eyes.

“When we get out of here, you need to disappear. Leave this life behind.”

San has never seen you cry since the Selection. Your eyes which were usually blank and cold, and that only ever warmed when you looked at him were glassy with tears and there was fear in them. Pure fear and hurt.

“P-please, Sannie. Leave the Academy.”

Why were you asking him something so difficult?

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.” You were begging him now, your hot tears falling onto his beautiful face. His eyes were so gentle as they looked up at you.

“Don’t ask me of this, Y/N.” He tried to be stern to mask the breaking of his heart. “You know I can’t do that!” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “I can’t. I can’t…I can’t.” His voice was trembling, both your fears breaking you down.

“Do it for me, Sannie.” You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, fighting the urge to kiss the beauty mark on his upper cheek. “If one of us gets to be free, it should be you.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck while his other hand brought your leg to be able to wrap around him, consumed by the need to be close to you. He pressed your forehead against his.

“We both deserve to live. If we’re talking about who should be free, it should be you.” He said through gritted teeth, still not letting all his composure go. How could you think so little of your life? “You’re not a weapon.”

He took your hand and placed it over where his heart would be. “We both have hearts that beat. We both have tears to cry. You breathe just like I do. You feel just like I do…you can love just like I do.”

San’s words echoed in your head, they rang like an alarm as those words breached the codes that the Academy programmed into you.

You couldn’t think straight. None of you could.

‘You can love just like I do.’

Could you, really?

Your bleary eyes searched San’s glimmering onyx orbs. You were scared to find nothing but conviction and such surety that made you believe him that you could. The hope in his eyes frightened you.

You didn’t know how to love. You only assumed to know that love was a precious emotion you could never have. The Academy said love was a weakness but all the training and programming they did, seemed to not exist at this very moment. Neither did it for San.

Well in his case, you had always been his exception to every rule. He’d break rules, laws, and bones for you.

“I don’t know if I can,” you sobbed softly. The fact you don’t even know how to love makes you feel as if you weren’t human.

Love was different from lust. You knew that. Everyone, even those under the Academy, had needs and everyone was left to handle it themselves as long as it didn’t compromise their abilities or get in the way of missions.

To put it simply, they just fucked for the feeling of it.

But no one touched you. You wouldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t. The other girls were nice enough to tell you how to do it yourself and you wondered if San has ever needed to get those needs out of the way…and the thought of who it could’ve been with made your chest ache at the thought.

“You can.” He smiled, so soft and gentle, it made you wonder if anyone else in the galaxy could look at you that way. So fondly and not the monster and killer you really were.

San held your hand that was against his heart tightly, still smiling up at you so sweetly you didn’t think you could handle that look. It was so foreign to you.

“Y/N, if you’ll let me,” San didn’t care anymore. If you two were going to die tomorrow and if he was going to do as you made him promise, he’d hold you and speak as if this was his last night in this life. “Let me make you feel. It doesn’t have to be love. But please, let me make you truly feel.”

You knew you could say no and it would be okay. All your time in the Academy, you realized the only time you ever felt safe was when you were with San. You didn’t have to keep your guard up with him and you didn’t have to lie to him.

Throwing all caution out the window and focusing on San, just him, you exhaled softly, unaware that you had been holding your breath.

“O-okay.” You held his face softly once more, telling yourself he was real. That he was here, he had never left you not once and he wouldn’t leave you til you told him to. “P-please Sannie.” Your voice quivered. “I want to feel alive.”

“Don’t cry, my darling,” he cooed, wiping your tears away. “You know I’ll do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, letting yourself enjoy the soft touch of his hands in your hair and on your face, and the warmth of his embrace.

“Can I kiss you?”

You felt heat bloom in your cheeks at the question. San knew you’d never been kissed. Well, he knew because first of all, he was your closest friend in the Academy and you told him everything, and secondly, he may or may not have scared off anyone else who wanted to.

“O-okay.” You’ve never felt so shy.

“I won’t ever hurt you, Y/N.” He leaned closer, your heart racing you felt as if it was going to jump out of your chest. “With everything I am and as long as I’m around, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Your lips parted the slightest bit as his sweet words overwhelmed you with a sensation you’ve only ever felt in tingles whenever you were with him and now they were bursts of warmth that radiated throughout your body.

The plumpness of your lips and that innocent and pure way you gazed at home made him lose all his resolve. Softly as if handling the finest and most fragile porcelain, he pressed his lips against yours, their softness and their warmth, and the closeness of it all, made him feel as if the world had stopped.

You didn’t know what to do but when his lips gently moved against yours, a part of you made you do the same. It’s like your body needed to reciprocate his actions naturally. Maybe it was because you had thought about kissing him and wondered about it late at night til your face was hot and you were flustered at the imagination of what it’d feel to be closer to Sannie in a different way…

Gently, San helped you sit comfortably on his lap, supporting your back as he kissed you, tasting the sweetness of your lips that had a hint of metallic taste from the small cut on your lower lip. He’d kiss away all your cuts and bruises if you’d let him. He’d kiss them to make you forget the pain.

San was still holding back though.

He didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want.

But the way you had begun to kiss him back with the same need as he did, only made it harder for him to not lose himself.

Pulling away reluctantly, he looked at you. Your pretty lashes fluttered so prettily as you blinked dreamily at him, your lips were a glistening pink and your cheeks were glowing.

What made San fall even harder in that moment was the way you shyly looked away when he had been staring.

“Sannie…” you murmured, squeezing his shoulders nervously and completely aware that you were sitting on his lap, straddling him.

You just had your first kiss. San had just kissed you.

“Can I touch you?”

You felt your ears grow hot. “Aren’t you already?” You murmured. His hands were already on your waist and when they weren’t there they were in your hair or caressing your face.

“Let me rephrase that,” He chuckled and pressed his lips onto the corner of your mouth. “Can I…” he kissed your cheek, each kiss making warmth bloom wherever they touched you. “Touch…” He caressed the curve of your spine, your lower back tingling at the gentle touch. “All of you?”

“Y-yes.” You had uttered out so quickly and softly, that you felt embarrassed. You didn’t even think twice.

“You can touch me too,” San began to kiss along the column of your neck, the sensation making you shiver. “You can touch me however you want, Y/N.” He gripped your hips just a little bit tighter, enjoying the way you cutely squirmed.

“Sannie,” you softly called out to him, making him part from your neck which he had been kissing and licking.

His brows rose at your call, waiting for whatever you needed to say but in all honesty, you just needed to feel his lips on yours again.

So without a word, you cradled San’s handsome face in both hands before crashing your lips onto his, surprising not only him but also yourself at how greedy you had become. You didn’t know you could feel such sensations and the kiss just sparked a flame you never knew could come alive, and now that it was lit, it began to burn.

“T-touch me,” you whispered desperately between kisses, his own lips hungrily kissing you back.

San felt as if he was dreaming when those words slipped past your lips and even more so how prettily you moaned when caressed the underside of your breast with his thumb. He was surprised with how sensitive you were. You were still in your cat suit and yet you reacted so quickly to his touch.

His lips and your lips messily danced with desperation to drink each other's heat and passion. Your own hands had begun to tug at his armored protective suit while he also made quick work of your catsuit. San not wanting to leave the warmth of your lips, took his time to unzip the front of your suit. He wanted to be gentle with you despite the lust that was burning him from the inside out he just wanted to feel you and make you feel.

His lips finally left yours only to attack your neck with hot kisses, making you moan out softly. Gently he laid you on the worn-out mattress, parting from you completely so he could kneel between your thighs. Your eyes remained on him as he removed his protective vest, discarding it somewhere in the room before he peeled off his long sleeve over his head. His muscular chiseled body was illuminated by the moonlight, every ridge and ripple of muscle was accentuated by the shadows of the room. You felt a familiar heat pool in your lower body the more you stared at San’s physique and you blushed and turned away when he caught you staring.

The edge of San’s mouth twitched into a small smile, finding your timidness to be rather adorable. He liked how flustered you became because of him. San reached for your hips to pull you closer, your eyes widening when he did.

San found the zipper of your catsuit again, his heart thrumming in his chest as he slowly pulled it down. His breathing grew heavy as yours quickened with how the suit slowly opened revealing glimpses of your naked skin beneath. The rise and fall of your chest along with the sight of the valley of your breasts and hints of your body before him, made his throat dry.

He wanted to take his time but at the same time, his long infatuation that had turned to something more over the years made it difficult.

When the cold air kissed your bare skin, you felt your nipples pebble and harden against the fabric of the suit, making you want to rub your thighs together but that was impossible when San was knelt between your thighs.

“Can I keep going?” He asked you, pausing the pull of your zipper before it could go lower than your belly button. He searched for any uneasiness in your eyes but instead, he found such a sweet yet sinful look in them.

You nodded. “Y-yes, please.”

Gently, he helped you slip your arms out of the suit, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare pretty breasts bouncing free as he bunched the specialized Kevlar-like fabric at your waist. His palms were at least a micro-centimeter away from your skin. Almost afraid and hesitant to truly feel you. An assassin without their suit was just as deadly as them having one but with you, he felt as if without it, you were just a woman. A woman who wanted to be loved…a woman he loved.

Kissing you drove him crazy enough but to get to touch you? He’s going to crumble.

It seemed you had noticed his hesitation and driven by your silent desire, you took his hand and splayed fingers and pressed his palm over the middle of your chest, close to where your heart would be.

You didn’t say a word as his eyes snapped to meet yours. All it told him was that this was consensual, that you wanted him to touch you, and that he could keep going.

If this was truly yours and his last night in this world, none of you wanted to hold back.

“Sannie…” his heart stopped when you softly called out his name. Your eyes looked into his as if he brought you peace, there was no turmoil nor anxiety in them. The cold and dark blankness that they held when you’re on a mission or on Academy grounds was absent.

Right here, before him was just you. The young girl he once knew that the Academy caged and programmed to be a weapon in their beck and call, a woman who did not have the time to love or be loved, nor was allowed to. But if you were to tell him you were incapable of loving, he’d prove to you that you were wrong.

Maybe you didn’t know it then but the compassion you had shown him during your trainee days when he was nothing but the runt of the litter of kids with no future chosen by the Academy to be given a chance, that in its own way was love.

The way you stuck by him, took time to check if he was okay and to defend him from higher ranking assassins, even if it was platonic or more, it was love.

You slipped your fingers into his, intertwining them.

“Keep going.”

There was a hint of sadness in your smile despite the way you looked so longingly at him as if he were the warm shining sun.

He continued to unravel you. Gently, he rolled the fabric to slip past your hips. Despite your line of work, your skin was close to perfect in his eyes. No deep scars nor wounds that left a memory of your missions plus the Academy took good care of their favorites.

But the sight before him proved him wrong.

His heart dropped into his stomach and he felt your hand squeeze his.

Below your belly button and not fully hidden by the waistband of your black underwear, a long jagged scar curved along your lower abdomen. The scar was healed but it left its mark. It sickly smiled at him in a deeper shade than your complexion with pinkish hues.

“W-what is this?” He held your hip gently, his thumb caressing your hipbone afraid to touch that area skin, should you not like it.

He felt his heart break when you only looked at him sadly. “Y/N, w-what is this?” He croaked out hoarsely, his heart breaking when you looked at him that way and continued to hold his hand in yours.

“My graduation.”

The world stopped and he heard nothing but a dull ringing in his ears.

The Academy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter. Why should I speak of something that I could never get back.”

“D-don’t talk like that. Y/N you should’ve told me.”

You sat up, heart breaking when you heard his voice crack. San didn’t even realize that tears were falling from his eyes as he stared at that mocking smiling scar. Just when he thought the Academy couldn’t take any more from you, they took everything.

Well, almost everything. But not him. They were not taking him away from you. Never.

“Sannie, don’t cry.” You smiled, wiping his tears away. “I didn’t tell you 'cause I knew you’d cry.” You took a deep breath, finally telling your closest friend of so many years the secret you’ve kept from him. “This is why you should leave the Academy and live a life you truly deserve. You have a chance for a future you want. Mine…well…mine was taken from me. It was a silly dream I had when we were kids.”

“When we spent time around the towns and I’d see people getting married and having families, I thought I could have that. I thought I was going to marry you and have a family. At twelve years old.” You laughed softly at the childhood memory. “At twelve years old, I looked at you, my best friend, and thought ‘I’m going to marry San’ and that we’re going to be as happy as the families I’ve seen. That I would have a child and give them the life I never had…but then the Academy happened.”

San’s tears streamed down his handsome face and you held his face in your hands once more, making him look at you.

“I don’t want to think about that tonight. I don’t want to think about what I went through to stay alive.” You leaned down to kiss his jaw and your breath was hot against his ear as you uttered words that shattered his heart even more. “So don’t touch me like I’m made of glass. You can’t break something that’s already broken. Make me forget, Sannie.”

You kissed him again then took his hand that was on your hip and guided it to cup your breast, your body tingling and warming at the touch. The simple gesture told him one thing. Throw caution out the window. Nothing else mattered now except you and him. If both of you were going to die tomorrow, you both wanted to feel love and act on desires that both of you held back on.

Driven by the love he harbored for you for so long, he attacked your neck with heated kisses and caressed your bare torso with such a need to feel your skin.

Your warmth and your scent, he could die in it.

Sloppily, he licked and nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before going lower, and hungrily taking the soft peak of your breast into his hot mouth.

You gasped and moaned at the sudden and new sensation, your body tingling over and your hips mindlessly grinding on San’s thigh. You shivered at the spark of friction and loosely wrapped your arms around his head, your fingers combing through his hair as his tongue flicked and swirled over your sensitive nipple while his other hand gave your other breast attention. He squeezed and massaged them just as greedy as his mouth was latched onto your right tit.

Soon, clothes were haphazardly thrown away and you were on your back completely on display for San’s eyes and his eyes only. The coldness of the room was forgotten as your bodies began to burn with lust and yours continued to grow hotter as he kissed along your inner thigh, his slit cat-like predatory gaze never leaving your face.

Your thigh was hooked over his left shoulder and San took his time kissing your soft plush thighs, nipping and biting where he wanted and enjoying the way you squirmed and trembled. But when he came face to face with your pretty pink pussy before him, he felt like he could cum untouched.

His gaze was hot as he stared at your core and you wanted to close your thighs but it was impossible with San’s position. He rested his hand over your lower belly as he licked his lips.

“You’re dripping,” he said lowly, eying your slick pink folds and your little pulsing hole that pushed more arousal out the more he teased you. He brushed his thumb over your clit and your hips bucked.

Fuck, he swore to himself. You were so sensitive.

Biting his lip, he collected your arousal and messily spread it all over your cunt. You could feel the warm sticky slick over your skin and you only grew more needy for his touch. You’ve touched yourself plenty of times when you needed to…but it was different when it was someone else, it was different that it was San.

“Fuck,” he hissed softly, feeling how wet you were and how easily his thumb was able to circle around your sensitive clit, enjoying the reactions he was eliciting from you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nodded, shamelessly.

“Have you ever been touched here?” He asked, wondering if you were like the other assassins who deal with their desires by sleeping with another assassin. If you answered yes, he’d be jealous. He’s already jealous at the thought of someone else being as close as he was to you right now.

But your answer was more than he expected.

“N-no. Just me.” You breathily replied, biting back a moan when he pressed a little more as he massaged your clit in slow languid circles.

“Yeah? Just you? All alone?”

“Mhm Hm.” You bit your lip, your hips bucking into his hand for more.

You were driving him crazy. He was imagining you touching yourself in your room. Pretty little hand in your panties playing with yourself underneath the covers and biting back your moans like you were right now.

“You know…there’s something better than just your fingers,” he inched closer, his breath fanning over your pussy, the heat of it making you clench around nothing. He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to hold you down and keep your hips still.

“Your fingers?” You guessed, blinking at him and watching his every move. You found it rather embarrassing that he was this close to your intimate area.

“Definitely,” he chuckled at your response. “But not that, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your pubic bone. “Something even better.”

Before you could ask what, his pink tongue peeked from his lips and licked a long stripe from your dripping hole and up your clit. You moaned at the feeling, squirming in his hold. Not one second did his eyes leave yours, the intensity of them made you need him more, and when he slowly flicked his tongue around your clit, tasting you, the pleasure went straight to your head.

“A-ah, Sannie,” you gasped but it didn’t end there.

As he had done with your breast, he latched his hot lips onto your core and began tasting you.

San moaned against your pussy at the sweet taste of your cunt, slurping and hungrily licking at your arousal as if he didn’t want to let a single drop go to waste.

It was downright dirty. Pornographic.

He kissed and made out with your core like he had with your lips. You never knew that you could feel such mind-numbing pleasure like this. His tongue was so hot and his lips were so soft, and just when you thought it couldn’t get better, you felt the tip of his finger tease your entrance.

It was almost too much.

You gripped his dark hair and tugged when you felt him slip a digit inside of you. His finger was thicker than yours, longer too. A rush of arousal washed over you when you heard him moan against your pussy when you pulled his hair.

“You’re so wet, fuck. You taste so good.” He briefly left your clit then licked at the pearl before saying. “My finger slipped in so easily, sweetheart. I think you can take another one already. Can’t you?”

“Y-yes. San, please. I-I need more. Please.” You panted breathlessly. Just as you asked, he delivered.

He added another finger into your hole, slowly slipping them in and losing his fucking mind at how tight you were sucking his digits in. He could only imagine how heavenly it must feel when it was his cock instead.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart.” He bit his lip, slowly beginning to pump his fingers in and out of you, his fingers completely covered in your slick. “You like that, darling? Love how my fingers are filling you up?”

You nodded, gripping the mattress below you as your hips moved on their own, and words you’ve never thought you’d say out loud slipped past your lips. “W-want to feel you deeper. M-more please.”

San could only smile at your reaction before he latched his mouth again onto your clit while fingers curled inside of you. You swore at how easily he found that spot you desperately tried to find on your own in the privacy of your room. His fingers were thicker and your chaste walls welcomed them so easily. The way he touched you and pleasured you felt so good, you didn’t care about the lewd squelching sounds your pussy made as he fucked his fingers into you. You could even feel your arousal drip from your hole and onto the mattress.

His eyes were peacefully closed shut as he tasted you. It was as if he was savoring every single bit of you and this kind of attention was making a familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

“S-San, w-wait, I-I’m,” you stuttered out, feeling your core tighten, the familiar sensation of being on that edge far more intense than when you touched yourself alone.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he murmured against your core, releasing your overstimulated clit with a soft wet pop. “Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Something about what he said and how he flicked his tongue against your clit as his fingers mercilessly pumped and curled inside of you, sent you over the edge. You gasped as your hips trembled and your walls convulsed around his fingers, your climax making you shake and your mind go blank momentarily.

San hummed deeply, the vibration of the sound along with how he slowly lapped your release and moved his lips as he did, made some part of your brain melt.

He couldn’t get enough and he quite literally was acting as if this was his last meal on earth.

“S-Sannie, wait—ah!” He prolonged your organs with his lazy kisses and languid kitten licks.

Once he had gotten enough (though he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough), he parted from your lower lips to look at you through hooded eyes full of hunger and lust. It made your heart race.

With his eyes locked on yours, he thought his two fingers that had been inside of your heat to his lips and licked your essence off of it, a sudden heat passing through your body at the visual.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, taking his time to taste you on his fingers.

“H-how about you?” You asked, your voice breathy and higher than its usual tone.

He caressed your thighs, lovingly as you came down from your high. “What about me sweetheart?”

Your hands caressed his toned stomach, tracing the lines of his abs and stopping before the waistband of his briefs.

“Do I get to taste you?”

San’s cock throbbed at your question that sounded so innocent from your lips. He wants to make this all about you but you were making it difficult for him to not be selfish and focus on making you feel good.

Still lightheaded from your orgasm, you sat up and crawled to San, the man before you gulping at the visual of you on your knees and seeing the beautiful shape of your back, it was like looking at a cat. You knelt by him, meeting his height before placing your hands on his shoulders and moving him to sit on the mattress with his back against the wall.

“I want to taste you, Sannie.” You purred, sitting a top of your folded legs, his own legs spread to make room for you.

He raised a brow watching you, amused at your actions. Even like this, he looked so attractive.

San smiled softly at you and caressed your cheek as you looked at him with round wide eyes. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

You nodded, experimentally teasing the imprint of his length in his briefs. His breath hitched at the mere touch of your fingertips, his excitement making his thighs tense.

“Teach me how?” You looked at him through your lashes and the sweet determined look you had turned him on even more.

You were rather shy that you asked him to show you but little did you know, that just sent his mind places. Was he really your first?

Curiously, you palmed his length making a shaky breath leave him. “Did that feel good Sannie?”

“F-fuck… y-yes. It felt good sweetheart.”

“Can I take it off?” You tugged at the waistband lightly and he nodded eagerly.

You pulled down his boxers and once the garment was down past his hips, his cock sprung free from its confines. It slapped against his hard abdomen and you felt your mouth water at the sight.

Not knowing what it’d do to him, you slowly wrapped your hand around his length to gauge his size and San hissed at the warmth of your soft palm. He was hot and stiff, and the pink head was glistening with a slick liquid. With your other hand, your fingertips spread his precum all over the bulbous round tip.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re torturing me.” He groaned the more you massaged this sensitive tip.

You felt your core tingle at the sight of his furrowed brows and his parted lips as you touched him. You wanted to make him feel good too.

“What do you want me to do, Sannie?” Your voice was so sweet.

“F-fuck, baby, spit on it a-and then wrap your pretty hand around me, okay?” His hand gently cupped the back of your neck.

A little hesitant but doing as he said, you spat on his cock, and the dirty sound and act of it made his cock twitch. You were guessing that you should spread it around and when he hummed, it told you, you were doing something right.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” He cooed. “Now wrap your hand around me. Fuuuck. Just like that.”

Feeling excited with all the praise he was giving, you kissed his neck slowly, doing as he did to you earlier.

“M-move your hand up and down, sweetheart.”

“O-okay.”

Your saliva mixed with his precum gave lubrication for you to easily glide your hand up and down his shaft.

“That’s it, baby. That feels so good. Fuck.” He moaned. “Come here, let me kiss you.”

You do as he says and kiss with his, moving your lips with his, and your core clenched when you could taste a sweet yet slightly salty flavor on your lips. Was that you? The fact you were tasting yourself on his lips turned you on.

The two of you stayed like that; making out while your hand pumped his cock, feeling his girth and his length. You couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel inside of you but you wanted to taste him first like you said.

You pulled away from his lips and they pouted at the loss of them but he couldn’t stay disappointed for long, not when your tongue just did a kitten lick on his sensitive tip.

“Fuck, sweetheart, are you really sure?” He moaned, not wanting to force you. He was happy enough that you had been jerking him off. You really didn’t have to return the favor if you didn’t want to.

“Mhm.” You hummed, following your instincts and taking his leaking tip in your mouth, while your hand continued to move up and down his shaft.

His taste made your head spin and your clit throb. You liked the taste of him, it was a little salty but it was just him.

“Shit-,” he threw his head back, his other hand gripping the mattress as you licked and suckled at his tip. “That feels so good. Fuck. Don’t stop. Such a good girl using your pretty mouth on me. Do I taste good?”

You hummed so cutely as a yes. God, he’d do anything for you. How were you this cute?

“Do you think you can take more of my cock in your mouth? You think you can take it?”

His dirty talk made you even wetter and you were sure that you were dripping at this point.

Could you take it? There was only one way to find out.

Breathing through your nose and flattening out your tongue, you slipped his cock deeper almost choking when the hot tip touched the back of your throat but you against your gag reflex and tried to mimic what your hand had been doing. You slowly moved your head up and down, bobbing rhythmically on his cock.

San moaned breathily. This was your first time taking cock in your mouth? “You’re a fucking natural, baby. Fuck. That feels good. You look so pretty like this. Could cum just watching you.”

What you couldn’t take in your mouth, you made up for with your hand, earning more moans from San. You liked this. You liked making him feel good. You liked having his cock inside your mouth, you wanted to taste more than his cock.

You wanted more.

“Fuck,” he swore when he felt you bravely take a little deeper, feeling the way the start of your throat constricted at the intrusion of his cock. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that—,”

You bobbed your head faster, not caring that you were making such lewd slurping and sucking sounds. He had done the same for you and at that moment you understood why he had enjoyed tasting you.

San’s thighs began to clench and his core tightened further. His knuckles were turning white at how hard he was gripping the mattress in one hand while the other grabbed your ass, making you yelp and take more of him deeper in your throat, which pushed him over the edge.

There was a cute surprised squeak that came from you which was the cherry on top of him spilling his load inside your mouth. Your eyes widened as you felt his hot release go down your throat and they fluttered close as you savored the taste of him.

San was losing it when he felt your throat move as you swallowed his cum. He didn’t know you were going to do that. What’s making his head spin further and making his hazy orgasmic bliss last longer was how you kept him inside your mouth, just the tip, and licking the slit of his cock head.

You pulled away, his cock falling on his stomach, still hard and you sat so cutely in between his legs as he panting and coming down from his high.

You wiped the edge of your mouth and licked what was left of him on your lips.

“Sannie tastes good.”

You didn’t know you had said that out loud in such a soft manner that made San swoon.

San like a cat, pounced on you.

He was once again all over you. Your back was against the mattress as he found his place between your thighs. You eyed his cock, still hard and glistening from when it had been in your mouth. Your walls clenched when San wrapped his own hand around his pretty cock and pressed the head against your clit making you whimper.

San rubbed the tip of his cock through your slit, spreading your slick and coating himself with it. You were so drenched that it was driving him crazy, he wanted to bury his cock deep inside you so bad but when his eyes met the long scar smiling from one hip bone to the other. He wanted to take his time. For you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, holding your hips with care. Even though you told him that he couldn’t break what was broken, he wouldn’t want to think of breaking you. In fact, he wanted to make you feel full, whole, and complete. He wanted to care for you in a way you deserved. “Am I your first?”

The sudden question threw you off. It made you realize that he was going to be your first. Concepts like those shouldn’t matter to you especially since you didn’t have the time to think of such a thing.

“Y-yes…” you admitted, relaxing a little. “You’re the first person to ever kiss me too. I want you to be my first, Sannie.” Your heart was aching while your body burned for him. “And if this is our last night alive, I wouldn’t have imagined anyone else being my first and my last. I’m glad…it’s you.”

San didn’t know if this was the right time to say the three words he’d been dying to say to you for so long. “For me…” he slowly moved his hips, rubbing his length between your slick folds, making your face relax into that flushed blissful expression.

“It’s always been you.”

You didn’t have time to think or question what that meant. Not when the tip of his cock teased at your entrance, just pressing against it.

Slowly, he let the head pop inside your cunt, both of you gasping. The girth of his cock stretched you out more than you could ever with your two fingers and there was a slight sting as he entered, making you bite your lip and whimper.

But he was attentive.

San intertwined his fingers with yours while his other hand held your hip still as he slowly, little by little, inch by inch, pushed his cock deeper into your tight wet heat. The velvety warmth of your walls made his head spin and the way they hugged his cock was heaven. The carnal part inside of him wanted nothing more than to thrust deeply into you and have you falling apart for him.

“S-Sannie, m-more.”

He growled lowly. Despite this being your first time, the wetness of your heat made his cock slip in so easily. Both of you watched as his cock split your lower lips apart and how his length slowly disappeared into you. You were bewildered that San was inside of you. You never knew just how badly you wanted to be close to him until tonight.

The circumstances were dire, it was hopeless but you had him.

“I want to feel more.” You squeezed his hand as he pushed his hips a little further. “Y-you’re so thick.”

San must be dreaming.

You brought your free hand over your mouth as the sensation of being filled up was such a pleasure you’ve never felt before. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

He cooed and praised you for each inch you took of him and there was something about the heat of him inside you, spreading apart your chaste walls that made your thighs shiver as he bottomed out.

San let out a long exhale, cursing as he felt his whole length be snuggly embraced by your velvety warm walls. He could even feel your arousal coat him and drip out of your entrance. He was ascending. He was the closest he could ever get to the person he’s only ever seen as the love of his life.

You looked so beautiful before him. How could you be so bashful yet exuding such allure? Your hand squeezed his as you adjusted to his cock inside of you, he could even feel the way your walls squeeze and contracted as you did. Fuck. He was your first. The first man to ever have the privilege to be this close to you, to feel you, and to see you in a state so vulnerable that you hid from everyone.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” San asked, massaging your hips to help you relax. You were squeezing him so tight. “Does it hurt?”

His sweet voice and the care in them made your heart crack. What did you do to deserve someone like Choi San?

“N-not really. It’s just…new.” You whimpered when the head of his cock that was in your mouth earlier was snug against your cervix. “I-I can feel you.”

That made San’s head spin. “Y-yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, holding his hand and looking into his eyes. “I…feel…you.”

Each word held so much weight and emotion that San couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and crashing his lips on yours. He could feel you too and he loved the feeling of you. He drew his hips back just a little, slowly giving you shallow thrusts to get you used to him. You gasped at the sensation of his cock gliding and scraping your walls, the friction so sinfully and mind-numbingly good.

San continued to kiss you, his tongue delving into your warm wet mouth, the two of you kissing messily as his cock eased its way out of your walls leaving only the tip in. You squirmed. The first taste of the motion of his length inside you sparked a rush that felt addicting and when he easily slid back into you again, it confirmed that growing addiction.

“S-Sannie!” You cried out, arms wrapping around him, holding onto him as he stroked your walls deeply.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He groaned, burying his face into your neck, kissing the spots he hadn’t marked with love bites.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your lust mixing with greed as you needed more of the feeling that San was giving you. You’ve never felt so much in your time of being alive. It was new. It was something you never had before.

The deep passionate rolls of hips with every intention to make you feel pleasure, the hot kisses on your neck, the sweet nothings he’d whisper, and the gentle caresses on your body. It made you dizzy, you’ve never lost yourself in something so…euphoric.

As San continued to glide his cock in and out of your tight heat, with his forehead against your chest, his eyes met that scar on below your belly once more, his heart aching. Why did they take that away from you? It was so cruel of them.

His emotions were all mixed up. You two might not live to see another day after this night and the two of you acting on your emotions and passions that had been suppressed for so long were both overwhelming. Plus the truth of what happened to you during your Academy days hurt him.

All he knew was he wanted to you to feel all of him. To make you feel his love and desire for you with every touch, every kiss, and every strong drive of his hips.

The passion and the way you two had been showing it to one another became more carnal as the lust muddled both your brains with nothing but unspoken love and the need to just fuck.

San’s hips picked up their pace. He thrusted and drove into you so deeply, each scrape and glide of his length inside you made his fat cock head kiss your cervix and pound into that one spot that sent you shivering and moaning.

San liked those sounds of yours. Accompanied by the lewd wet squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin, it was driving him crazy.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” He placed his palm just below where your scar was, where he was fucking you. “That’s me.”

“C-can feel you, Sannie! Oh god,” you cried out, nails digging into his back. You could feel him waking up every fiber of your being with pleasure. “Want to feel more of you. D-don’t stop, please. Want you. I want you.” You were rambling mindlessly too lost in the pleasure, too lost in the heat of his thick cock filling you up.

“I won’t stop, baby. Can’t stop. I need you so bad. You need me to right? Fuck,” he felt you squeeze him tighter. “I’ll make you feel good, Y/N.” He moved his palm lower to find your sensitive pearl all puffy and sticky with your arousal.

Your back arched into him as he massaged your clit.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, fucking you til you both get your fill. Even if you both came now, he doesn’t think he’ll have enough of you. He wanted to fuck you so passionately. He wanted to drink what he could of you as this might just be your last night together. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes!” You croaked out, panting with each thrust of his cock. “W-wanna cum, Sannie. P-please.”

“Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll make you cum. I’ll fucking make you cum.” He growled, his hips picking up their pace. Your mouth fell open. The new pace had his cock hitting your g-spot at such a rapid pace you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was you wanted him to keep fucking you.

“H-harder. Need to feel you deeper.” You whined, hugging him close and your words only made the man before you go feral.

The snap of his hips shook your whole body with pleasure that only crescendoed your bliss further into euphoria. That tight knot within your tummy was reaching its limit. With how San was moaning and groaning against your neck, and how his fingers on your clit glided so easily with your slick was sending you over the edge.

You chanted his name over and over so breathlessly, your nails digging deeper into San’s back.

Snap!

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your walls clamped down around San, your thighs and hips convulsing uncontrollably as pleasure swooped through your body. You couldn’t help the way your nails clawed down his back which made the man before you moan brokenly as his hips stilled and glued against you.

Heat began to fill your walls and your womb as you came hard. San’s thigh muscles were taut as he emptied what he could into you. It was driving him crazy. Your walls were sucking him in a way where his cum just kept flowing til he had nothing more to give you.

“S-Sa—,” you didn’t have to finish calling out for him before he leaned forward to capture your lips. The kiss was slow and lingering…it was gentle and deep.

“I’ve got you,” he said briefly leaving the kiss to take a moment to straighten his back to look at you before him.

You were glowing. Your beautiful skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that made you glisten beneath the moonlight and your face was flushed. Your eyes looked up at him hazily, blinking prettily as you were still in your high. His eyes then drifted to where the two of you were still connected. Your puffy lips were split around his cock and you couldn’t help but look down there too.

Slowly, he slid himself out inch by inch. You whimpered at the loss of fullness but when you saw the pink cock head slip out and his length slam against his abdomen coated in your slick and pearly white release? Your walls clenched around nothing. With his thumb, he pulled one of your lower lips gently to get a good look at your pink pussy and his eyes darkened once more when he saw his cum leak out your pulsing hole.

San spread his release all over your pussy, his cat-like eyes curious and staring deeply at where he ‘marked’ you in his way.

“M-more.”

Did he imagine that?

“S-Sannie,” you spread your lips apart for him, making him swallow the lump in his throat. His eyes went to your face, his head spinning when you looked at him with such want and need. Could you look at him like that forever? “M-more. Need to feel you more.”

With San….you never had to ask him twice.

With the same passion and desire as he did earlier if not more, he was on you again. This time the two of you didn’t care about being gentle. You two were desperate for one another. Utterly desperate.

Then you found yourself locked against San with his arm around your waist, your back pressing against his body as he fucked deeply into you without thought. Your bodies were sticky as your shared heat kept you both hot, the cold forgotten as he pounded into you.

You moaned over and over for him, the sound a beautiful melody to his ears.

“I-I don’t think I can stop.” He rasped against your ear, slamming his pelvis against your ass filling your cunt up to the brim with his cock. “I don’t want to stop,” San growled while you cried as he slammed particularly deep, the new position making him reach that spongy spot inside you so fucking easily.

He’s gonna make love to you til you both are absolutely spent. Til he was empty and til you fell apart and had enough of him.

In that little walled-off prison you two were in, the two of you indulged in ways you both could never have during your time in the Academy. Boundaries they programmed into you were broken, lines were crossed and two beating hearts were fully awakened…and for the first time, truly, alive.

Then…when it was done…when that night passed and dawn broke. Those two hearts remained in each other’s arms, embracing one another as they feared for what the morrow would bring.

Not knowing that San would have to keep the promise he kept you.

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.”

But he wasn’t going to leave you behind.

He could never.

-- feel free to scream in my askbox!

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[jaeyunbaeun]

005 | the morning after

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

I can't stop and look the other way 'Cause I know what could be, babe And you never feel the same You'd be thinkin' 'bout it every day Don't believe in fairytales, but we got our fantasies

🎧: you right - Doja Cat

previous | 005| next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader

w.c : 8.4k ( sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, slow burn, polyamory, smut , peeping Tom! Wooyoung, masturbation, footjob, footsies, edging, some fluff ig, orgasm denial

REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : CHAPTER 5! I FINALLY WROTE A VERSION OF CHAPTER 5 that I LIKE!!! Sorry for the long wait. I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. I AWAIT YOUR REACTIONS HEHEH. make sure to leave comments about your thoughts and reactions! You can do this in my askbox too huhu!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

Seonghwa flinched at the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. He couldn’t even sip his morning coffee at the clamor in the kitchen, the usual cozy peace he had before everyone else woke up was disrupted. Usually, the chef was quiet, gilding around the kitchen with ease as he made breakfast for the crew.

But today, he was…off.

Seonghwa placed his coffee mug back on the dining table before turning his gaze to the kitchen, seeing the cause of the noise appearing frustrated yet spaced out at the same time. Some kind of weird autopilot.

What was up with him?

Usually, the vice-captain would ask what’s wrong but Wooyoung’s knitted brows and expression of deep yet stressful contemplation made him believe it was best to just observe him and figure it out for himself. If Wooyoung was troubled, he knew that he could always come to any of them.

When the other members gathered except for you and Yeosang, they too quickly noticed the change in mood of their playful, energetic chef.

“What’s up with him?” Jongho asked, frowning as Wooyoung hissed when he held the skillet the wrong way. He’s never this reckless in his domain, his sacred kitchen.

Seonghwa only sighed in response, crossing his legs with poise and shaking his head.

Yunho, the gentle soul that he was still decided to check on Wooyoung, hopefully, his calm gleeful energy could make the younger member feel better.

“You okay there, Woo?” He called over from the table.

Not looking up from the pans on the stove, he responded, more like muttered his response. “M’fine.”

What a lie. He wasn’t fine they all could catch the vibe from him.

They all exchanged glances and kept their mouths shut, letting Wooyoung serve this morning's breakfast while the rest of them carried on as if nothing was wrong.

“Go on,” Wooyoung huffed, taking his seat at the table and picking up a fork. “Eat up.”

Was all he said to them and nothing more. He was quiet but he listened to their conversation, Mingi stared at him long wondering what exactly it was that was bothering him.

“Morning,” Yeosang’s deep voice chimed warmly. Wooyoung didn’t raise his head at his best friend’s voice and Hongjoong narrowed his eyes a little at his lack of interaction.

Right after his arrival, Jongho let out a low whistle as the last person to arrive at the dining table finally appeared.

“You look very pretty this morning, princess.” Jongho complimented, drinking in your delightful appearance. “That’s a new number I haven’t seen before.”

San glanced at Wooyoung sat beside him who was staring really hard into his bowl of fried rice.

“She looks good enough to eat,” Mingi tilted his head, getting a good look at his baby

“Thank Yeosang for the new set.” You giggled, sauntering in with a subtle sway of your hips, knowing your lovers were enjoying your morning look.

Wooyoung, unable to hold back from looking your way, took a small peek, the promise of this ‘new set’ tempting him too easily.

The moment he did, he wished he hadn’t.

You walked to his kitchen to get yourself a cup of coffee in a new silk slip with thin straps. Different from the night before. The hem of the dress was short, way above mid-thigh, and tastefully stopping before where your thigh and ass meet. It was lined with white lace lilies that complimented the periwinkle silk. The straps were thin and he remembered the way they fell off your shoulders last night. Flowing as you stride past them was a sheer white lace robe, draped over your shoulders and floating dreamily with your movements.

Like all the men on that table, they all watched you as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, admiring the teasing view of your backside.

“Thanks, Yeosang.” Mingi bit his lip, eying the curve of your ass covered by the pretty silk.

Wooyoung immediately looked away and continued to eat blankly as you joined the table, sitting across from him.

How lucky was he?

Mingi draped his arm on the back of your chair as if to mark his territory to Wooyoung, unaware that he had seen you and Yeosang fucking last night.

“You look very beautiful, dove.” Seonghwa smiled softly and you could see how his eyes were blown with desire as he took in your lingerie-clad body.

“She looks like a bride the morning after her honeymoon,” Yunho joked, eying your exposed collarbones and the lace that lined the low neckline of the silk dress.

“Don’t give Mingi any ideas,” Jongho tutted, taking a bite of his meal and looking around the table, stopping at San who looked at you intensely. “Hey, San, snap out of it. I’m going to beat all of you to it.” He challenged them with confidence.

“Shut the f—,” Mingi was about to cuss the youngest out in banter but Hongjoong cut him off.

“When did you get her that, Yeosang?”

“When we stopped at Jupiter. It’s from a boutique that creates lingerie pieces for noblewomen, and princesses and provides the finest silk for the Queen Mother’s dresses.”

Wooyoung gripped his fork tight. The silk was from his home planet? He knows of the boutique Yeosang talked about and he knew how that expensive fabric felt in his fingers. He wondered how it would feel if he had the chance to caress your curves and feel the silk that kissed your skin.

“I told Yeosang I don’t need such things but he insists on his gift.” You leaned your head against Mingi.

“His gift to you is my gift,” The gunner grinned, placing a hand on your bare thigh and creeping it up high and so dangerously close to your heat, his smirk only grew when you didn’t stop him. Before he could feel what he hoped was a matching pair of silk underwear, you tapped his hand away, the big man pouting his full lips.

“Behave.” You told him before feeling San’s gaze on you. Your heart melted at the longing look in his eyes, round and sparkling. You smiled softly at him and let the slipper on your right foot slip off before running it along San’s calves, his ears immediately turning pink as he looked at you wide-eyed.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you turned your attention to Wooyoung, who was very quiet.

“Morning, Woo.”

Wooyoung clenched his jaw. His name sounded even sweeter on your tongue today.

“Uh, morning.” He managed to say only giving you a quick glance and a smile which made you pout a little.

He couldn’t look you in the eye. Did he feel that guilty? About last night? Maybe you should confront him… like Yeosang said.

“Yeo?”

“Yes, my love?”

You raised your cheek from the warm chest it had rested upon. You had been listening to his heartbeat while he combed his fingers through your hair and petted you gently.

“Wooyoung…” you murmured softly, completely relaxed on top of him while his other hand traced the curve of your back.

“I just made love to you and you’re thinking of Wooyoung?” He jested, pinching your side.

“It’s not that…” you softly tapped his chest at his teasing. “He saw us.”

Yeosang was silent for a bit but was quick to reply with such nonchalance. “And?”

“He saw us.” You looked him in the eyes unable to stop the urge to trace your fingers along his pretty jaw. “He was touching himself to us.” The image of Wooyoung by the door, lips parted and panting quietly, his eyes hazy as he looked at you with such want, flashed before your mind.

“Oh? He was?” His tone was straight, unbothered by the fact.

“You never mentioned that he was a little pervert.”

“I thought your interaction in the club told you that already. He was coming onto you very strong. Bill after bill to see the heaven between your thighs.”

“Fair enough.” You chuckled, kissing the tip of his gorgeous nose. “He doesn’t know…doesn’t he?”

“Apparently not.” Yeosang kept his eyes on your face as if he was looking upon you for the very first time and was marveling at the beauty before him. “But he has picked up on the way we all look at you.”

“And what way is that?” You cupped his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone while looking into his pretty bright eyes.

Yeosang sighed deeply with a smile that could win anyone's heart even the Gods perhaps. He wrapped his arms around you and you melted against him, your cheek pressed once more to his chest as he kissed your forehead. He didn’t have to say it for you to know.

“What do we do about Woo?” You murmured after a comfy pause.

“He’s very much attracted to you, my love. Wooyoung, despite his playful flirtatious nature and his very…colorful sexual escapades. He never ever pursues nor beds a woman who is taken. It’s a rule of his.” Yeosang explained, cuddling you, the soft sheets kissing your naked skin. “But if the woman lies that she isn’t taken, that’s not on him.”

You only hummed at the piece of information about his best friend. Wooyoung’s rule was fair enough.

“Since he was the son of a Duke, he had more freedom than I had. Whenever I’d visit, the young maids in the Jung manor changed with each return.”

You made a face, one that made the former Prince smile fondly. “It’s because he was…”

“Messing around with them, yes.” Yeosang chuckled at the memory. “One time, I had caught him in our palace grounds stables getting head from one of my mother’s handmaidens.”

“And were you some Casanova back in the day too?” You traced the line between his pecs.

“I’ve had my fair share of experiences in masquerades or in empty rooms at official balls. Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious,” you rolled your eyes a little. “You’re only saying that because it’s what you think I might want to hear.”

“Oh darling,” he pouted his lips in jest before kissing your forehead, his hand never ceasing its caress on your naked back. “Are you jealous?”

Yeosang watched as your brows furrowed and your lips pursed. It was cute and he knew you were just going to try to deny it.

“Maybe….just a little.”

“I was jealous of you and San once.” He confessed, wanting to wipe away your anxiety masked by jealousy.

“W-what why?” You blinked up at him.

“Because you were each other’s firsts. Even though San confessed after you and Mingi got together. He was still your first. First hug. First kiss. Oh, and you’re very first.”

Your eyes widened and you immediately felt heat bloom in your cheeks. “San told you?” You murmured shyly, remembering that time. Both of you only had each other at that time and in that mission, you both believed you were going to die. Consumed with unspoken desire and love that was hidden from each other verbally, you two had gotten intimate, letting actions and your bodies express what you both felt.

“San has loved you the longest, my darling. It just took him a while and you and Mingi being together to finally get him to say it.”

Your heart felt full. It felt as if it was going to explode with all the emotions and love you had for them. “I love you, Yeosang.” You said softly, looking him in his angelic eyes. “I love all of you so very much.”

“Though all of us have our own ways of showing it, we love you too. I love you.”

You kissed his soft lips and he kissed you back, sealing the romantic moment you two shared. You giggled as you pulled away.

“Now back to our Wooyoung,” Yeosang thought of his best friend.

“Our?” You raised a brow.

“He wants you, darling.”

“Sure he wants me but he’s not mine nor am I his like I’m yours and you’re mine. He probably only wants to fuck.”

“And you’re not opposed to the idea?”

You paused, thinking of your answer even though you immediately wanted to say no, you just didn’t want to seem too eager. But you didn’t have to hide from Yeosang. Never had to.

“No, I’m not…” you sighed, feeling a little guilty as you thought about your lovers. All of them. “It’s not that all of you aren’t enough—

“I know darling,” he stopped you before you could worry and spiral. “We all have noticed the way Wooyoung acts around you. In fact, the night you returned and you and Mingi…retired for the evening, the rest of us stayed back to discuss Wooyoung when he went to bed. Assuming he did go to bed and didn’t watch you and Mingi have sex.”

You made a mental note to ask the peeping Tom if he did see you that first night before continuing to listen to Yeosang’s pretty voice.

“Wooyoung saw us and he doesn’t know that we are all your lovers.”

“God, he must think I’m cheating on Mingi or something.” You huffed, rolling off of Yeosang to lie on your back. "Or that I'm some whor-"

Yeosang shushed you shaking his head. It would hurt him deeply if that was the way you thought of yourself.

“You could either confront him and ask him what he wants from you.”

“Very straightforward,” You narrowed your eyes at him. “But your smile is telling me there is another option.”

“Or…”Yeosang grinned, propping himself to crawl on top of you, his dark locks of hair framing his handsome face. He slotted his hips between your legs as he leaned down to kiss along your collarbones while his hands caressed your sides, the silk beneath his palms smooth against your skin.“You can have some fun keeping him on his toes."

Pausing your little innocent footsie play with San, who frowned when you stopped, you decided to turn your attention to the man sitting across from you, next to your pouting lover.

Maybe giving him a hint and teasing him a bit would reassure him that you didn’t hate him or anything…and maybe push him to finally confront you or take action with his attraction for you.

“We’ll be arriving in Gevora by the morrow. As I’ve discussed with Y/N, one of the pieces of the Cromer, we’ve found out, is going to be auctioned.” Hongjoong was speaking to you as you raise your coffee cup to your lips while gliding your foot up Wooyoung’s calf. “It’s a highly private auction with wealthy attendees which also means it’s definitely—,”

“Illegal.” Jongho finished for the Captain, clicking his tongue as all of it made sense. “So what’s the plan?”

Wooyoung tensed visibly, his other leg jumping at your sudden touch, his knee banging against the underside of the table.

“You okay, Woo?” Jongho asked, raising a brow at the wide-eyed former noble.

Wooyoung finally met your gaze as they all stared at him. He was met with such a neutral expression from you as if you weren’t running your foot up his leg in a way that made shivers run down his spine and send heat straight to his groin.

“U-uh I’m fine…” he was trying to remain composed while he screamed in his head at what on earth you were doing. “Just lost in thought.” He played it off, earning a very subtle smile of approval from you as you sipped your coffee so casually.

“So what’s your plan, Captain?” You took the boys' attention from him, Hongjoong staring at you with a subtle glint in his eyes at how you effortlessly addressed him with a sultry tone.

“The good ol’ hit ‘em before they know it.” He replied, his eyes locked with yours as he knew that look you had in them all too well. That teasing yet magnetic gaze. You must be in a playful mood today. “San and Jongho will infiltrate the storage area while Y/N and Wooyoung will attend the auction to give San and Jongho enough time to retrieve it.”

“M-me?” Wooyoung stuttered, Hongjoong unaware of how your foot now brushed Woo’s inner thigh. The man in front of you swallowed the lump in his throat. What were you doing? He panicked.

“I’d send Yeosang but the attendees would know his face easily. So you’re Y/N’s lucky partner for the heist.”

“You don’t have to worry much, Woo. San and Jongho will have most of the action if things don’t go south. I’ll lead, and you,” you pressed your foot gently against Wooyoung’s hardening cock, fighting your smile at his somewhat pained yet turned-on expression. “Just follow.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, opting to give a nod of acknowledgment because if he had opened his mouth, he’d risk a very out of place sound at the breakfast table.

“Mingi will be monitoring the perimeter from the building across the venue. Ready to snipe should anyone intercept San or Jongho.”

Hongjoong went on but Wooyoung was struggling to focus. He could hear everything he was saying and he was taking note mentally of all the important details but the way your foot palmed at his painfully hard cock through his sweats was making his head spin. “Yunho will be driving the getaway van and Yeosang will bring his gear with him to hack into the security system in the van."

“And you and Hwa?” You leaned your head on Mingi’s shoulder, pressing just a little more, the perfect amount as you glide your foot against his cock. Wooyoung gripped the fabric of his sweats to ground himself. He tried to meet your eyes but you were conversing with everyone as if you weren’t giving him a fucking footjob between Yeosang and Mingi, and with San next to him.

“Hongjoong and I will take out two guards beforehand and take their uniform so that San and Jongho can easily get in.” Seonghwa answered you. “It should go pretty smoothly but we will act quickly should there be any…unexpected surprises.”

“I just hope I get to see you two in uniform,” you chuckled playfully, thinking of how lovely the sight would be. Despite the two eldest’s left behind military past, they have shared with you the official portraits of their time there. Strikingly handsome those two were. They even gave you the photographs for you to keep after they had noticed how long you stared at them in awe.

“Maybe you will,” Hongjoong smirked, winking at you playfully making you blush and laugh.

Wooyoung wondered how you were able to act like that... all effortless and pretty while you were rubbing his cock under the table. He was fighting back the urge to buck his hips into your foot for more friction. It felt good…so good. He could feel his precum dampening his boxers.

“Baby, eat something while you drink your coffee,” Mingi chided lightly, putting sweet buttered toast on your plate, berries and some cream.

You smiled at the care he was giving you, never ceasing the languid caress you were giving Wooyoung’s hard cock, and turned to Mingi. “Thank you, baby.” You tilted your chin up a little, the bigger man grinning before leaning down to peck you on the lips.

“Get a room.” Jongho fake gagged.

“Gladly,” Mingi smirked and deepened the kiss to irk the youngest even more.

Wooyoung’s cock throbbed at the sight of your plush lips against Mingi’s and the way they moved against his. You were the first to pull away, smiling so sweetly up at Mingi and pinching his cheek.

“I’ll start packing up my gear,” Yeosang announced to the group, taking his empty plate and getting up. He patted your head before discarding his plate in the sink.

“Me too.” Yunho chirped, doing the same as Yeosang.

“You guys can go ahead,” you told Hongjoong and Seonghwa who also were done with their breakfast. “Wooyoung and I will clear up.”

“Thank you, dove.” Seonghwa smiled, stacking his and Hongjoong’s plates before going about their personal schedules and preparation.

“You okay, Woo?” San suddenly asked.

“H-huh?” The man croaked out, his fist clenched tightly out of sight.

“You’re awfully quiet.” He frowned, his cat eyes trying to read his expression. “Are you in pain?”

Mingi and Jongho looked at Wooyoung worriedly while you had the audacity to pout your lips teasingly and bat your lashes at him, still rubbing his cock with your foot making the pressure in the base of his spine tightened further.

“Leg cramp.” Wooyoung shakily replied, forcing a smile. “I-I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so. This is why you should stretch after a workout. I told you ‘cool down’ is important.” San light-heartedly reprimanded, getting up and excusing himself from the breakfast table, leaving you, Woo, Mingi, and Jongho.

“What dress do you plan to wear to the bourgeois auction?” Jongho asked, sipping his coffee.

“I haven’t thought about that yet.” You hummed crossing your arms under your chest which pushed your breasts up and together, that teasing dip of cleavage along with the strokes you gave his cock, making Wooyoung’s head spin.

“How about the navy blue one?” Mingi suggested, playing with your hair as he took the last bites of his breakfast.

“That one’s too short, baby. Not very auction-y.”

“That one’s too flashy.” Jongho agreed. “It’s more of a night out dress. How about that red one?”

You glanced at Wooyoung and noticed how he was trying hard to steady his breaths in a way it was not noticeable by the other two men and you could see a vein in his neck beginning to pop out as his cock throbbed. His brows knitted together and his head was facing his lap, almost looking like he was in deep thought or trying to relax from the pain of his ‘leg cramp’.

He was close. He was so fucking close. Wooyoung hissed as he felt his climax near. All caution was ready to be thrown out the window as he reveled at your touch and the sight of you. Maybe he didn’t fucking care if he came in his boxers. How did Jongho and Mingi not even know what you were up to?

“Ohhh, that red one.” Your touch left him, the pleasure he had been feeling, that tightening sensation at the base of his spine as he got close to release, was ripped away from him.

“Fuck!” Wooyoung exclaimed, fist banging on the table making the two men look at him questioningly at his frustrated cry.

His head was thrown back at the ache of being denied climax. To the two men, it looked as if his leg cramp had gotten worse. Wooyoung leaned his elbows on the table, his hands gripping his hair as he breathed heavily. He looked through the thin curtain of his messy locks over to eyes to look at you. Your glossy lips were upturned slightly, almost tauntingly and your eyes glimmered with mischief, finding entertainment in his predicament.

“Dude, Wooyoung.” Jongho looked at him worriedly and a little confused. “You should get that leg cramp checked with Yunho if it’s that bad.”

“Yeah, we can’t have you pulling a muscle or getting cramps on the mission,” Mingi added. “You both can’t compromise your covers.”

Your legs returned to yourself and you crossed your left over your right. Will Wooyoung finally make a move after this? How far did you need to push him to finally have him confront you? How much self-control does he even have?

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Mingi. I know you two have some preparations to do for the mission. So go ahead, and I’ll clear up here while Wooyoung…rests.” You told the two men, smiling at them reassuringly.

“But I kinda do wanna get a room with you though,” Mingi murmured, eying you with desire. “Just a little y’know…quickie.”

“I thought you were back to baseline Mingi libido.”

“God.” Jongho groaned getting up and grabbing Mingi by the ear, completely unafraid of the much taller man. “You’re a fucking horn dog man. It may not seem like it outside but it’s 9 am in the fucking morning. Keep your wandering hands to yourself.”

Mingi’s eyes rounded in a childlike way, turning to you as Jongho was dragging him out of the kitchen.

“I’ll just clean up here and you'll have me soon enough.” You blew him a kiss, letting Jongho and his god-like strength pull him away.

You were amused they didn’t catch on…did they really buy the leg cramp?

Once they were out of earshot, you turned to Wooyoung.

He was slumped against his chair, finally letting himself breathe. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and his whole body was hot with need. Struggling to compose himself, he looked at you.

His eyes had a hazy look in them, it was the same gaze you saw last night. His pupils were blown with lust, his cheeks were flushed and his lips parted as he softly panted.

Wooyoung stared. He blinked a couple of times to make his eyes focus on you. A part of him was annoyed that you just looked so neutral as if everything was okay. You had that small smile on your lips whenever you two spoke and that gentle captivating gaze that made one feel that what they had to say was very important to you. But right now, that gentle demure look taunted him.

“Your leg cramp must be really bad,” you finally spoke. “You should relax, Woo.” You got up and started to stack the empty plates on one another. “I’ll go put these in the sink and wash them, okay?” You smiled sweetly, reaching across the table to get his plate as well, knowing that it would the man a view of your breasts against the lace lingerie when you dipped forward. Will he finally snap?

While you walked over to the kitchen, Wooyoung glanced down at his lap, his painfully hard cock creating a tent in his cotton sweats. He was irritated. You had the fucking audacity to smile and act as if nothing happened? After whatever the fuck you just pulled?

You observed him from the kitchen, waiting for him to make his move but the man just sat there. Rolling your eyes, you made your way to him, the soft patter of your feet on the cold floor not making him look at you.

You’ll make him look at you.

“Hey.”

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath as something soft and warm pressed against his throbbing cock, ripping him from his thoughts and making him aware of the body perched on his lap. His eyes were wide as he met yours, confusion and surprise in them when you rested your hands on his shoulders.

“Look at me.” You whispered, running a gentle trail down the back of his neck.

“What are you—,” he started to say, trying to ignore the fact you were straddling his lap with your panty-clad pussy pressed against his cock.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” You took one of his hands, bringing it up to your chest and resting it atop your breast, making him cup the soft flesh.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, his other hand gripping your hip, using it to ground himself. His mind was screaming at the sudden closeness. The heat of your body beneath his palm, your sweet scent filling up his senses and the fact you were even touching him was making him want to really feel you, all of you.

“Do what?” You purred, bringing the hand that was on your breast away from your chest and letting his fingertips feel your warm lips.

“You know what I’m talking about Y/N.” He watched your every move, shamefully anticipating what you would do next.

“Do I?” You teased, bringing his thumb to brush your lips and before he could say another word, you took the digit in your mouth, sucking softly at it and swirling your tongue around slowly.

“F-fuck,” Wooyoung muttered breathily. His mind went straight to imagining what it’d be like to have your lips around his cock right now.

You released his thumb with a soft pop, his eyes on your pink lips. “Did you like it?” You asked him, running your hands up his chest.

What were you referring to? The way you were touching him under the table? Cause if he was going to be completely honest, he did like it. He was annoyed that you edged him but he fucking loved it. Or…was it about last night?

“You could’ve gotten caught.” He didn’t move his hands from your hips. A part of him was still unsure whether he should cross the line despite you having acted as if that line didn’t exist.

“Me? I hope you mean you, Woo.” You giggled, tracing his jaw. “Leg cramp? I guess that was believable. I mean the boys bought it. Want me to make it better?” You cooed, slowly rolling your hips forward, dragging your clothed pussy against the length of his cock, earning the reaction you wanted from him.

He shivered and moaned softly.

“I didn’t let you finish, did I?” You kissed his neck, the heat of your lips making his hips buck involuntarily. You clicked your tongue. “Behave, Woo.”

Wooyoung glanced at the doorway, anxious that someone might walk in on you two. Why were you doing this?

“Answer me.” You whispered, your voice sweet like honey as you stopped moving, giving him nothing once more.

“Y-you didn’t.” He breathed out, gripping your hips fighting the urge to guide them against his cock.

“Good boy,” you slowly rolled your hips again, finding yourself growing wet at the hardness of his cock. He was so stiff. Maybe you did feel just a little bit bad that you didn’t let him cum. “But you’re not that good aren’t you?”

“H-huh?” Was all he could manage to say, too distracted and drunk at the feeling of your hips grinding your core unto his cock. The friction sent swift shocks of pleasure throughout his body.

“Don’t act dumb, Woo.” Your soft warm breath was against his ear. His heart pounded strongly in his chest as it dawned on him that you were talking about how you had caught him watching you and Yeosang last night.

Fuck.

This was your way of confronting him about it? Having him wrapped around your finger by turning him on, teasing him to no end, and torturing him with the very thing he wanted most, you.

“I-I’m sorry,” he croaked out, moaning when you licked a stripe along his neck.

“Are you really?” Your voice dipped low, one hand that had been resting on his shoulder moving down to the waistband of his sweats.

“Y/N, we shouldn’t.” In his own head, you two really shouldn’t. “Y-Yeosang—fuck.” You freed his cock from his pants and boxers, his hard length slapping against his stomach.

You bit your lip as you glanced down while you had been kissing along his jaw, the sight of the pink angry and leaking tip making you grow wetter.

“Yes. Me and Yeo.” You softly placed your fingertip on the tip, mouth watering at the precum that was leaking out and spreading the slick substance all over the head of his cock. “You’re a little pervert aren’t you?” You wrapped your hand around his length to have a feel of him. He was hot and heavy within your enclosed palm, and thick. “Did you like watching Yeo fuck me, Woo?”

You squeezed his cock gently, his head following forward and leaning on your chest as he moaned. “I did. Fuck. I did. Y/N please.”

Fuck it. He swore to himself. Fuck it all. He needed to cum, he needed you to do something. Anything. His cock was painfully hard and the unmoving touch of your hand was driving him crazy.

“I like it when you’re honest.” You hummed with a smile, getting up. Wooyoung’s hands gripped your hips in protest, feeling crazed at the thought of you leaving him high and dry again.

But you didn’t leave.

You perched yourself on the edge of the table you cleared on your own. Your hands pressed against the surface behind you, leaning on them.

“If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you cum.” You told him with a smile while batting your pretty lashes at him.

God, he just wanted to fall on his knees and kiss along your leg and worship every part of you.

Wooyoung swallowed thickly as he nodded, wincing a little as the cold draft kissed his bare cock.

“Do you hear me and Mingi fuck?” The first question of your little interrogation.

Maybe if he wasn’t so on edge and horny, he would’ve held back and lied.

Shakily, he answered, “Yes.”

You hummed as you nodded at his response, his eyes widening when you pinched the skirt of your lingerie and hiked it up high, giving him a glimpse of your matching panties.

“Do you touch yourself when you hear us?” Your second question.

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Without any shame and his eyes focused on you, your magnetic eyes drawing him in your gaze, he wrapped his hand around his cock, an action all too familiar from the fantasizing about you all this time.

You hummed seductively and with his eyes on you, you did what you had done the very first night you two met. You brought your hand to your collarbone, tracing along it, his eyes following before you led them along your shoulder, slowly and agonizingly pushing the thin strap over the edge of your shoulder. The top hem dropped slightly, showing him more of your skin beneath the lingerie, the silk clinging to the curve of your breasts.

His hand moved along his cock, slowly, doing as you said, finding no relief from it at all. Not when you had pressed your cunt against it and wrapped your own hand around him just moments ago.

You licked your lower lip, adoring the sight of Wooyoung touching himself.

“Did you ever watch Mingi and I?” You followed up your next question. “Don’t move your hand too fast. We’re not yet done.”

Wooyoung slowed his hand down, still slumped against his chair but languidly stroking his cock.

“I did.” He admitted quickly, awaiting your next move to award his honesty.

You bunched the fabric of your lingerie to your waist, slowly parting your legs to show him your matching underwear. “When?”

Wooyoung bit his lip at the sight of your clothed cunt. Was your pretty pussy really on his cock a while ago?

He breathed out shakily, the stimulation of his cock in his own hand not enough to make him cum. “The first night you returned on this ship.”

“Get up.” You instructed him. “Come to me.”

Wooyoung let go of his cock and without any thought, walked up to you, now standing between your parted thighs.

You hooked your leg around his waist as you chuckled. “Closer.”

“Y/N…I’m sorry.” He said again, letting your hands guide his in where he could touch you. Despite the situation, he didn’t feel he had the right to touch you as he wanted or as he pleased.

“You must’ve tortured yourself,” you sweetly cooed, placing one of his hands on your hip before cupping his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Just watching from afar. Not able to touch me. Is that what you want? Do you want to touch me too?”

Too? Did you think of him touching you? Has the idea of being with him crossed your mind like his mind did?

Your voice was void of the sternness it had when you had been interrogating him. It was now sweet and inviting, gentle even?

“I’ve been wanting to touch you since the night we first met.” He answered, the very honest reply taking you aback and making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, Woo,” you murmured softly, bringing closer til the underside of his cock was against your clothed core again. “If you wanted me, you should’ve just said so.”

What did you mean? He couldn't have you in the first place because you were someone else's to hold.

Why was your heart melting so easily for him? You had been sure what you had felt for Wooyoung and what he felt for you was nothing but desire. Just lust. And yet, you were being as sweet as you were with all your lovers.

“Y/N…”He squeezed your hips, his forehead resting atop the crown of your own head, getting a whiff of the scent of your shampoo. He needed to fucking cum. It was taking everything in him right now to not hump his cock against your clothed heat. “Please.”

“I like it when you beg.” You softly whispered before leaning back and propping yourself on your elbows, his eyes raking you up and down your body. “Since you were so honest….” He watched as your hand guided his cock this o where you wanted him.

His breath hitched when you slipped his cock beneath your silk panties, the smooth fabric making him shiver. His cock throbbed when he realized the silk was slightly damp and slick.

“You can’t put it in though.” You told him, guiding the tip of his cock along your slit coating him with your wetness.

Wooyoung stared at where you two were touching. You were moving his cock head between your plush pussy lips and a part of him could’ve died at the way you softly moaned when you circled his tip around your clit.

Was this really happening?

He was snapped from his thoughts when your hand left his cock, your silk panties softly smacking against his length.

His cock was between your silk underwear and your bare heat. Fuck. Was he dreaming? He stared at the shape of his length beneath the fabric. Something about the sight was so sinfully pleasing to his eyes.

Placing his hands over your hips with his thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, he slowly moved his hips forward and back, his cock slotted between your lower lips.

You softly moaned as his length rubbed your clit. Languidly, taking his sweet time and drinking in the sight and feeling of his cock on your pussy, Wooyoung didn’t care that he wasn’t inside you. This was just as good. In fact, better than he could ever imagine.

With his thumb, he pressed his length against you a little bit more, applying pressure on your clit and making you whimper. Fuck. Hearing you like this was better than from afar. His eyes were glued to how his cock pushed against the fabric of your underwear, bulging against it and slowly it became more sheer as his precum and your wetness mixed together.

"Woo,” you moaned so sweetly, gentle strong shocks of pleasure rolling through your body.

He moved his hips a little faster, making your hips wriggle in his hold and moan again. Eventually, the sliding of his cock against your wet folds made soft obscene slick sounds. Only you two could hear it.

“Fuck, you feel so good against me.” Wooyoung groaned softly, his core growing hotter at the fact your cunt was drooling all over his cock. He sped up just a little bit more, making the two of you moan in bliss as your clit got stimulated by his hot and heavy length.

The sight of his pink tip faintly shown through the damp wet patch on your underwear was something he wished he could take a picture of for memory. Wooyoung panted. He wanted you so bad. Every sigh and sound of pleasure from your lips caused by him, made him fall even more for you.

“Don’t hold back, Woo.” You told him, softly yelping when his cock rubbed your clit a certain way making your thighs shake. “I-,” you began shakily, lying back down fully on the table, the delicious feeling of his cock making you fall apart so easily. “I want you to cum.”

“Fuck. Don’t say things like that,” he groaned, rutting his hips at just the right pace.

“Make a mess, Woo. I don’t care.” You bucked your hips upwards wanting to feel your own release.

“Fuck it.” He hissed, continuing to fuck against your panties and cunt surprisingly passionately.

You whimpered and slid your hands over your body, the movement making his eyes snap away briefly from where you two were touching. One of your hands softly wrapped around his wrist while the other cupped and squeezed your right breast. You were driving him crazy.

Wooyoung’s breathing grew erratic as that coil in the base of his spine tightened further and further. The slick wet sounds of your pussy along with your soft whimpers and moans egged him on, and he began to swear under his breath.

He can’t believe this was happening. Your moans grew higher in pitch and breathier.

“Oh my god, Woo, please.” Fuck. You sounded so sweet and perfect begging.

“I’ve got you—f-fuck, fuck, fuck,” he slowly began to lose himself, his hips moving on their own as he chased his release, the increasing speed bringing you close to the edge.

You moaned his name again. Something he thought he would never ever hear. Now that he has, he just knew it was going to haunt him forever til he can have you again.

You cried out as you came, covering your mouth with your hand as you whined at how he was still going, watching his groomed brows knit together and his eyes blink blearily down at you. His hair was a perfect swoop of mess on his head and as he reached his climax, his beautiful jaw tightened while a vein in his neck began to bulge.

He looked so handsome above you and something about the way he looked at you, made you feel something bloom and flutter in your belly.

“Ah!” A broken gasp and cry left his pink parted lips. His hips stilled, completely pressed against yours as he finally, finally, came. Hot spurts of his cum seeped through your underwear and dripped down and along your pussy, making you moan at the warmth of his release.

His mind was blank as he came, his eyes processed the sticky mess of his cock in your panties and the disheveled pretty undone mess you were on the dining table. You were panting softly at your own high, your chest rising up and down, making him stare at your breasts for a bit. Your nipples were perked and poking through the silk, and if the hem fell a little bit more he could’ve seen your pretty peaks. His eyes then moved to your pussy. He couldn’t help but hook his finger at the fabric and move it aside, still keeping his cock rested against your mound.

If he had asked…would you let him take a picture? Because the pornographic sight before him was something he wanted to imprint in his mind forever.

Wooyoung never thought that he would ever, ever, see this. His thick white cum dripped down your pink pussy, and some of it slipped over your entrance making it look like he had cum inside of you. Grabbing his cock, he moved his cum around your pussy with the tip making your hips shake at the added stimulation from the high you were still in.

This was dirty.

You propped yourself up on your elbows once more and reached down to your core. Your fingers dipped between your folds and you felt your walls squeeze around nothing at his sticky hot cum.

“You came so much…” you thought out loud, your voice slowly bringing Wooyoung back to earth.

You pressed the pad of your pointer finger against your thumb and rubbed it against one another, feeling the wet slippery mess of his cum, Wooyoung watching you hypnotically. Feeling his eyes follow your every move once more, you watched him as he watched you. He has always been watching you. But this time, you knew.

You brought your cum stained fingers to your lips and licked your digits, making Wooyoung’s mouth part just a little as a shaky breath left him. You hummed at the taste of him and it didn’t help that after you did that you met his eyes, and smirked.

“You’re really going to be the death of me, you know that.” He leaned his hands on the edge of the table, sighing.

You sat up, softly laughing, a sound that made his heart flutter. “Don’t say that. If you die, where’s the fun in that?”

That made him laugh with you, falling into this comforting and lighthearted fuzzy atmosphere. He barely even knew you. He didn’t know much except what you allowed him to know or what the other men could say about you.

Without thinking, he gently cupped your face, catching you off guard and staring at him with surprise. He didn’t say anything. He just…gazed at you in that way.

That same feeling that bubbled inside of you whenever San’s eyes smiled with his lips when he looked at you, or when Jongho held you with such care and protection whenever you two just lay down and talked with one another…when Yunho hugged you from behind whether when you two slept or when you’re doing work. When Seonghwa reads to you with your heart against his chest and your face buried in his neck under the fluffy blanket in the common room. When Mingi smiles and lets his goofy self out around you…or when Hongjoong shows you his poems and confides with you his innermost thoughts.

That special feeling of intimacy and love…what was that delicate beginning rush doing here too?

Wooyoung hasn’t been this close to you since the kitchen strawberry incident and every time he’s able to be this up close, he’s able to confirm that you’re real. That there’s warmth in your skin and that your gorgeous smile was something he could see every day.

“I…” he began, feeling his words get stuck in his throat. He was confused. He tucked himself back into his sweats and offered you a small smile. “I’ll clean you up, yeah?”

You nodded quickly, glancing at the doorway. The double doors were still closed. Maybe you should tell him the truth. About you and Mingi, Yeosang, and everyone else.

He returned with a soft towel. "May I?”

“Mhm.”

This was Jung Wooyoung.

Despite his burning desires, he was a caring soul and a gentleman. It’s kinda cute how slow he was to catch on but you knew the truth probably crossed his mind already and he was just in denial. It’s not everyday you meet 8 people all involved with one another intimately both physically and emotionally.

A scratching sound from the intercom interrupted the budding moment between the two of you, tearing both your attentions from each other.

“Y/N,” it was Jongho’s voice. “Hongjoong is calling you. Meet him in his office.”

You sighed softly, letting Woo clean off the cum that had landed on your lower abdomen. “Duty calls.” You hopped off the table.

“You’re a busy lady.” He chuckled, whipping his head away when he saw you shimmying your underwear down. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not going to go into Hongjoong’s office with cum stained underwear, Woo.” You huffed, stepping out of the fabric.

“Going commando is the better choice?”

“It’s not nice to keep the Captain waiting if I go get changed. I’ll just chuck it in the laundry room on the way there. My basket is already there anyway.” You shrugged and then smiled at him sweetly. “I’ll see you around, peeping Tom.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung defensively yelled.

You skipped out of the dining kitchen room.

What the fuck just happened?

“Oh, you’re all here?” All the men except Wooyoung were in the captain’s office when you arrived.

“You can brief Wooyoung for me later,” Hongjoong said as you walked into the room, standing next to Jongho who was sitting on the end of the three-seater couch facing his desk.

“Did his cramp get better?” Yeosang asked, standing next to San.

“Oh? He’s fine now. Don’t worry.” You answered, looking at Seonghwa who with his hand gestured for you to come closer to the desk where a digital map was laid out before you.

“This is the perimeter of the venue. It’s some rich Lord’s mansion. Since pretty important wealthy no good doers will be there, I’m sure the security will be tight.” Hongjoong began the briefing. Your eyes followed his pretty fingers as he pointed around the map.

You leaned forward a little to get a better look.

The sound of someone choking on their water, made yours, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa’s head snap to where it came from.

The pink-haired gunner was coughing and Yunho was giggling while rubbing comforting circles on his friend’s back. While San was staring at you adorably with wide eyes and Yeosang was pressing his lips together to stop his smile.

"Sweetheart..." San's ear turned pink.

“Y/N, you’re going to kill Mingi one day,” Jongho said, his eyes focused on you, his legs spread wide on the couch as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs.

“Huh? Why?” You blinked, tilting your head.

“Don’t you think a mission briefing is the wrong time to go commando?”

Now it was the Captain and Vice Captain’s turn to look at you with pleasant surprise. You felt the heat crawl up your neck and into your face.

“Oh, I…” For Wooyoung’s sake, you’d say a little white lie. “I must’ve forgotten…oops?”

Hongjoong shook his head fighting back a smile and grabbed his captain’s coat before going to where you were stood. From behind, he wrapped his coat sleeves around your waist securely. “Naughty little kitty.” He whispered only for you to hear, giving you a subtle quick kiss on the shoulder before returning to his spot.

“Y/N is not good for Mingbido.” Yunho chuckled.

“Mingi—what?” Seonghwa made a face.

“Mingbido,” Yunho repeated. “Mingi libido.”

“God damn it.” Jongho pinched the bridge of his nose. “You guys are so lame.”

“Hey! Speak kindly to your elders!” Yunho tutted, pursing his lips cutely.

“Elders? Okay, old man.” Jongho retorted.

“Hey!”

Hongjoong sighed before calling his members to his attention while you smiled at them sweetly. As much as he loved the way you looked so pretty and lovingly at them, you all have a very important agenda to attend to.

“Men. Focus!”

- feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl

Taglist : @endeav0rsb1tch @eastleighsblog @scarfac3 @deadgirlwalking3 @ddaeing @lexiigom @lesyeuxdeanna @ja3hwa @prettyjewel93 @dear-dreamie @ashrocker123 @kookibuns @i2hyun0 @kpopismyescape23 @alex-tinyy @hyukssunflower @honeypaintedskies @jinnieboosworld @dawn-iscozy @moonchildushine @asjkdk @voicesinmyhead-rc @not-everything-is-so-primitive @atinytinaa @songmingisthighs @sanniesbum @angellluh @teenyfinds

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[jaeyunbaeun]

Guerrilla

serialkiller!dr.yunho x writer!reader

he is a serial killer with morals okay almost a vigilante

dni if you're not comfortable with this trope.

genres and warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, violence warnings, atz as doctors cameos, some gory descriptions, twisted morals, past trauma, questionable stuff honestly esp yunho's intrusive thoughts, read at your own risk.

word count: ~27k

synopsis: you're a crime fiction writer and you move in with dr. jeong yunho despite his strange, strict house rules. he's very private and you don't mind that, but he's also very cold and unapproachable and you're determined to crack through his walls. little did you know your obsession with gore and crime would melt his heart. Soon, you find yourself tangled in lies, secrets and a detective from your past who suspects yunho and his gang as you navigate thru your relationship with him.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (i had a dream. we talked about it and this happened-)

“You know, if you could just help me bring my bags inside instead of staring at me like I’m about to commit a homicide, maybe you wouldn’t have to complain about the noise and not being able to focus on… whatever the heck you wanted to do.”

Yunho blinked. Was he hearing you right? When you cocked your head waiting for a response, he licked his suddenly dry lips. “I’m just worried about the amount of bags you’ve brought at this hour of night.”

The ungodly hours after midnight. You tucked your hair behind your ears before dragging one of the heavier bags to your room, the floorboard creaking unceremoniously. You heard the groan of your house owner who finally got up after a solid ten minutes of judging you and went to the porch to pick up a bag-

And almost fell on his knees.

“What the fuck did you put in here?” 

“What do you think?” You asked, throwing the bag in your room and going to the porch, snatching the bag and dragging it yourself. 

“A body?”

“Or two,” you muttered under your breath and again, Yunho thought he was hearing things. “It’s just my books. I thought I mentioned in the form that I’m an aspiring writer and would be coped up in my room reading or writing most hours of the day. I really won’t bother you much, just help me get my bags inside before the rain gets any worse. I don’t want my books getting ruined.”

Begrudgingly, Yunho obeyed, dragging two bags at once just to show you he wasn’t weak. You, however, did not bat an eye, much to his annoyance. After bringing in the last bags, he stood in your room looking around.

“I’m not sure this room is big enough for your books…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve lived in smaller rooms with more books,” you finally cracked a smile. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Jeong. I thought you’re usually doing night shifts?”

“I had a day off today and planned to sleep, but unfortunately, you disturbed my sleep.”

“You’re welcome,” you weren’t going to let him damper the mood. “Since you’re awake now, might as well tell me any rules about the house so I can finally go fix up a meal for myself. And an apology meal for you, though, as the owner of this house, you should be in the kitchen fixing something for your newly arrived housemate. But… I won’t complain.”

Yunho folded his arms, considering you. There was something about you that didn’t make him want to kill you in the most painful way, which was odd for him. He recalled the last time someone moved in with him and he almost dissected him alive. “Nice to meet you too, y/n. I’m trusting you read the rules before you decided to move in?”

“‘Minimal noise especially during the day, no intervening in each other’s business, an absolute no to bringing over people even if they are your family- if you have to, on a three-days notice, and… no getting to know each other. The workshop in the garage and the upper floor is off-limits.’ I believe I got them right?”

“You have an exceptional memory,” Yunho was impressed for once. “Why did you move here?”

“I’m sure you read my response in your form too, but to put it simply, I can’t afford a nicer place, though I’m curious why a doctor is living in such a dodgy little house in a shady town-”

“I, too, need to make ends meet,” Yunho explained even though he could have easily ignored your question. “Circumstances. Besides, I get a whole house instead of a cramped apartment in the city, and my workplace is close.”

“I know! Cramped apartments are suffocating. Even though I’ll only own a room here and share the floor, at least it’s a… house.”

Yunho nodded. “I’ll give you three days to settle down and break any rules except the ones mentioned in the form. Now, I understand that you can cook?”

“Always been a good cook,” you said proudly. 

“We can share the kitchen expenses and if you cook enough for the both of us, I can take 40 percent off your rent. Fair offer, isn’t it?”

“Peculiar is what it is,” you told him. “But I won’t question you. If I have to cook, might as well for the both of us. Saves me money in the long run, and I need to save every penny I can.”

“Right. There are a few cabinets locked in the kitchen, please don’t try to open them. I can’t think of any other rules right now, but try to keep it down, will you? And again, the upper floor is absolutely off-limits.”

“Got it,” you nodded. “Let me know your usual schedule so I don’t think there’s a serial killer entering my apartment in the middle of the night.”

Once again, Yunho had to stop himself from twitching in surprise. “What’s your obsession with serial killers and murders? You’ve mentioned them numerous times in the past half an hour.”

“I think the rules go both ways, Dr. Jeong Yunho,” you smiled teasingly, opening one of the bags and taking a deep breath at the amount of books in it. “But if you have to know… my genres are crime fiction and mystery. I hope I don’t scare you away, especially if I ask you something odd about human anatomy.”

Yunho almost gaped at you before shaking his head and exiting your room, absolutely unnerved by you in a mere half an hour. It was crazy- usually, he was the one making people feel alarmed or discomposed, but you were an odd one for sure. However, as with every past housemate, he was sure you were going to get on his nerves and he would have to either bury your bones in the backyard- consequently breaking the ‘code’- or plan something elaborate and chase you out. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be a pleasant person to share the house with. But when he opened the door at about 1am to a distraught looking girl that didn’t even reach his shoulders carrying six bags, some bigger than her… he wondered if he should kick you right out and remove the ad he had put in on a few websites looking for a ‘peaceful’ housemate. He was sure you must have some thoughts about him too- he wasn’t the most welcoming person and people would eventually get curious about his closed-off personality and start snooping around.

For now, Yunho peeked into your room from the stairs- you had your hands on your hips and were assessing the room, probably planning how you could fit everything in there. He checked the time- he needed to leave soon. Praying silently that you would just fall asleep or something instead of snooping around, he went to his room to get ready.

You, though, had no plans to sleep tonight. You needed to set your room and get some sleep so you could meet the deadline of your draft that was due this weekend- only three days away. You assessed the space in the room again- if you could move the bed to the corner, you could place your computer table and chair there which would be arriving in the morning. You could line the books along the rest of the walls on the floor. You didn’t need any fancy shelves. Thankfully, this room had its own closet so you wouldn’t need to worry about where to fit your clothes. 

You exited the room into the living room space, wanting to get the bearings of this house. The toilet was right in front of your room and one of the reasons you moved into this dodgy house was that it was… a good house. A toilet all to yourself was a blessing, and upon checking it looked clean. 

The living room wasn’t too big but it looked cosy. You noticed a lack of personal belongings and decided to add a few potted plants on the windows soon. There was no TV but you had a projector and if you moved the couch, you could have a whole plain wall which was perfect to watch dramas when Yunho would be away. The kitchen space was at the opposite end with a large countertop in between and it looked like Yunho had most of the kitchen appliances already. 

And at the end where the main door was, there were stairs leading up to the doctor’s space. Off-limits. You wondered why he was so uptight but you figured that as long as he was letting you live almost for free in return for home-cooked meals and maintaining the house, you could tolerate him. It was strange if you thought about it but you didn’t have the luxury to overthink right now.

You finally had a place- better than an apartment, yet something you could afford. You found yourself smiling. You just need to meet your deadlines now and hopefully publish your book by the end of the year- before the publishers change their mind. 

But first… coffee.

You went to your room to get the bottle of your favourite coffee blend, which was really a mixture from a few different brands that you had come up with after years of experimentation. You set two cups on the counter and checked the fridge for milk. You weren’t sure about the doctor’s preferences so you made a simple latte like your own. You were just finishing up when you heard the dull footsteps of him descending the stairs. 

“I made coffee…” you trailed off- now that he was in a white button down and black slacks with his hair styled, it finally settled in.

Doctor Jeong Yunho was pretty damn attractive.

“Uh…” he looked around awkwardly before grabbing the mug and taking a sip, raising his brows in surprise. “This… is actually pretty good.”

You grinned. “My own blend.”

He made an impressed face and you took that opportunity to ask. “You don’t mind if I make a few changes to this floor, right? Nothing major, just a few plants here and there, maybe get a chair or two, move the furniture around to make space for the projector?”

“Isn’t it too early for that?” Yunho frowned. “I might kick you out before that. Or you might end up leaving-”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you dismissed. “What I mean is, I’m staying out of your way so you would have no reason to kick me out because I really, really cannot get a better deal than I got with you.”

“Sure, then,” he finished his coffee. “Do whatever you like as long as you stick to the rules. I’ll be on my way then.”

You relaxed, mind already buzzing with ideas as you headed towards your room to fix your draft.

—-------------------------------

The trial period Yunho had given you was over and you were now seated in the kitchen with your third cup of coffee since midnight, awaiting your judgement.

Really, you were telling yourself that you shouldn’t worry. If you had to be your own judge, you had done a spectacular job of staying out of the doctor’s way except when unavoidable- which was usually right before he left for work around midnight when you would both eat dinner, or his usual shift in the later hours of morning. He insisted that he was fine eating alone and you didn’t have to wait for him to eat your own dinner, and yes, he sounded like he could be anywhere but there, but you told him that if you were cooking for him, you’d rather he eat at least one meal with you. For what reason, you didn’t give and he didn’t ask.

You didn’t give because you may be a self-proclaimed good cook but you were also someone who was sensitive. And that meant that if Yunho didn’t like something you cooked, you would be ready to take constructive criticism and improve. 

And he didn’t ask because he could see that you were a sensitive one. He knew the moment he told you off for filling the house with potted plants within one day and you almost teared up asking if he didn’t like the signs of life around the house. He actually almost laughed at that but when he realised you were serious, he told you he wouldn’t take care of the plants. You told him you wouldn’t expect him to because the plants were ‘your babies’ and had moved two houses with you already. 

So yes, you stayed out of his way. You cooked for him. You cleaned the house quite a bit- so much that Yunho almost didn’t recognise his own porch because of how different it looked in the span of a few hours that he was absent from the house. He made a point of telling you right after that your trial period wasn’t up, and you made a point of retorting with how you were just waiting for him to give in, to which you earned a scowl. By now, you knew that the doctor was not very friendly- at least not immediately. You wondered if that was the reason why he had troubles with his past housemates. 

When you heard the sound of keys jingling and the door unlocking, you straightened and started heating up the dinner- you kept it traditional today- rice, beef and a lot of side dishes. Perhaps, it was your last attempt to win him over, and your heart was beating loudly with anticipation. You never waited for him to come home and share a meal in the early hours of morning but today, you made an exception. You turned around to greet him-

Finding his clothes stained with what had to be blood. His hair was all messed up as well and he had a bruise on his cheek. You exhaled. “Looks like somebody had a long night shift.”

“What are you doing this early in the morning?” He took off his shoes that you noticed were quite muddy. It hadn’t rained in a few days so you briefly wondered where he had been, but you shook your head.

No questions asked. That was the rule.

“Prepared breakfast? For you,” you scratched your suddenly itchy neck. “For obvious reasons. Last attempt to bribe you before you announce your decision.”

Yunho scanned you for a few moments before he said, “I should change first.”

“Of course,” you nodded. “I’ll set the table in the meantime.”

Yunho nodded and went upstairs, going to the room at the end of the hallway and dumping his shirt and trousers in the washing machine, turning it on. He needed to get rid of the blood as soon as possible and detergent wouldn’t be enough so he grabbed a soap and rubbed the stains on his shirt for good measure- now, the clothes would wash themselves. 

It was almost a mechanical routine now, he scoffed at how his hands worked on their own now. He went to his room, unlocking it and changing into sweats. Usually, he didn’t eat much before sleeping- after all, due to his night shifts, he slept for most hours of the day and breakfast wasn’t something he cared about, but the smell of beef was making his stomach rumble. He figured he could make an exception today.

By the time he joined you at the table, there were a variety of dishes in front of him and he raised a brow at you. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Of course I would,” you shrugged. “But I’ll be honest. I got most of these side dishes as a gift from one of my friends from work.”

Yunho nodded, thanking you for the meal and eating silently, waiting and waiting but you never asked him about his bloody clothes. Did you dismiss it because you thought it might be from a patient? Or because you simply didn’t care? Was he lucky then, having found you as his housemate? Because one of the qualities he needed in his housemate that he simply couldn’t have stated in the form was a lack of curiosity or inquisitiveness. It was different than being nosy- he could deal with nosy but not someone who would overstep their boundaries because they were curious.

It was why he was apprehensive of you at first. You were a writer. Writers had to be curious and inquisitive, and you were. He knew you were only beginning right now, but the few occasions you had been curious, he was thrown off. And for the right reasons-

“As a doctor, do you think it’s more painful to bleed to death or to drown?”

“As a doctor… do you think a sharp pencil stab to the jugular vein could be fatal?”

That was really all you ever asked him. His opinion as a doctor. You asked with such simplicity that he couldn’t help but stop whatever he was doing and really think about the answer-

“I personally think it’s more painful to drown. The water burns you from the inside. Bleeding to death… you stop feeling things at a certain point and it gets easier from there.”

“Well, it depends on the location of the stab but I reckon if it’s around the base of the neck, it could be fatal. But it would have to be embedded quite deep, and then extracted so a person can bleed to death. If it stays in, there’s no point.”

And his answers would earn him your satisfaction and suddenly, you would be muttering to yourself and going for your room, probably to note it down. He had done his research there too- if he was going to have you as his housemate, he needed to do a background check on you. He didn’t find anything odd in your socials- you tended to stay anonymous and most of your blogs were writing-focused. And when he snooped in your room while you were away grocery shopping, he only found various notes and books on crime and methods of serial killers. He was ashamed to admit he spent quite some time on that book and learned a lot.

So now, having finished the delicious breakfast (you really were a good cook) and finding you uninterested in his whereabouts and the aching bruise on his cheek, he finally cracked the first smile in three days. 

“I’ll let you live if you take care of the house like you have been so far. And you really don’t need to wait for me during meals. The rules are still the same.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and laughed in relief. “Thank you. I’ll stick by the rules, and I’ll probably have dinner with you if I’m not busy- I don’t like eating alone, to be honest. You can pretend I’m not there if that’s what bothers you. Also…”

When Yunho urged you to continue, your shoulders relaxed in relief but your brows crunched in annoyance. “Do you have to bring your muddy shoes inside? I just cleaned.”

Yunho looked towards the doorway. “I can’t leave them out.”

“Well, I can’t have muddy shoes inside, so you’ll have to do something about it yourself or else I’ll be annoyed and have to clean them myself and you do not want me cleaning your shoes-”

“Okay,” Yunho waved a hand to shut you up. “I’ll take them off on the porch next time.”

“Good,” you folded your arms, considering him. “I think we’re good then.”

Yunho narrowed his eyes. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying that…”

“Well, now that we’ve settled everything, I hope you and I will get along,” you extended your hand and he warily shook it, aware of how small your hand was in his. “Now, since you’re a doctor, I must ask if you’ll take care of the loud bruise on your cheek before you sleep. We don’t want it looking worse than it already is.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he assured, and he couldn’t help but continue. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“I’ll admit that I’m curious, but I won’t break a rule- and I won’t be tricked into breaking one either,” you winked at him and once again, he found himself smiling. “I’ll just assume you had a bad day at work or a rough case. You must often get them as a… surgeon?”

He nodded and you started stacking the dishes. “You can go rest now. I’ve installed a clothesline in the backyard- I really wonder where you’ve been drying your clothes all this time, but I won’t ask. You should try hanging your clothes outside this time.”

For a moment, Yunho wondered if he should have kicked you out.

“I just have a question before you disappear,” you turned and he paused in his tracks, wondering if his stealth was worsening. “It’s an odd one, for my book, but… approximately how long would a healthy man suffer with a stab wound to this area-” you rubbed the left side of your stomach, “- given the weapon is an old 12-inch kitchen knife that’s been sharpened way too many times?”

For a moment, Yunho wondered if he had forgotten to lock the cabinet in the kitchen that contained all of his knives. “You’re uh… oddly specific.”

“I have to be,” you shrugged.

“Well…” Yunho rubbed his chin, thinking of all the patients and victims he had dealt with so far. “Can I sleep on it?”

—-----------------------

Your life was finally not falling apart, for once.

In fact, perhaps this was the calmest that things had been for a good few years now, you mused to yourself as you mopped the floor, your usual instrumental playlist on a considerable volume playing in the living room. Ever since you graduated and had to face the reality of navigating through life as an adult, mostly on your own, you had to tackle a lot of struggles and obstacles. Sure, things got better when you finally signed a contract with a publishing company and started writing for them, but whenever you thought things calmed down, there was always something happening to make you feel like everything was falling apart once again.

Like a few weeks ago when you had to move out of your apartment that you had lived in for three years because the owner decided to sell the building and every tenant had to empty their apartment on a rather short notice. You were compensated but that wasn’t enough because everything was so expensive now. You couldn’t go back to your hometown- if you went back, you would never be able to leave again. So you scoured the internet and found your current place.

And things were finally okay. You did not have to worry about rent- you were doing a good job at maintaining the house and feeding the owner proper meals and so far, he had no complaints with you (he told you if he ever did, he would make sure you knew). You were now able to keep up with your weekly deadlines and finally able to overcome your writer’s block- all thanks to Yunho.

Over the past two weeks, while you could not say that Yunho had warmed up to you, he was getting there alright. You could tell because he stopped complaining about you overcleaning- or perhaps, he admitted defeat. He also stopped protesting when you joined him for dinner before he left for work at night and it was then you would ask him all the questions you had- mostly injuries related, sometimes medical law, but you found that he was knowledgeable in legal law as well. He was never curious about why you asked him all your odd questions, but one day, he asked you what exactly you were writing.

“I’m writing about a female detective who’s assigned to a case of serial killings in her precinct. The serial killer is a strange one because he does not have a fixed method of killing and his victim pool has no pattern, and at first the detective believes that there is a group of them which may or may not be working together, but towards the end, I reveal that there was only one… and the serial killer was from the same station as her so he always knew what to avoid.”

And that was the only time Yunho looked remotely impressed with what you did- if you didn’t count the time he saw you carrying a tower of books and wondered how a tiny thing like you could carry so much. After that, whenever you told him about your progress during dinner (you insisted you needed to talk out loud about it and if he didn’t want to hear it, he could say so because you were used to talking to the walls) he would offer clarifications at least about the things that concerned him. You asked him if he had dealt with a lot of fatal wounds in surgery.

“When I was a beginner, that’s when I got the worst of them,” he admitted. “But I don’t work in the fancy hospitals anymore. With some of my colleagues, we opened our own private clinic. The hospital life wasn’t for me- at least not right now.”

That was all he offered about his personal life and you didn’t ask why he couldn’t handle a hospital life right now. Perhaps, he was going through some of his own troubles like you were too. He tended to spend most of his free time out anyway so you figured that medical practice wasn’t the only thing he was doing.

Plus, he had a thing for cars- old, beaten up cars that he would fix in his garage that he called his ‘workshop’. He would dedicate his weekend to those cars and would become so absorbed that he would forget to eat. One time, you made a smoothie for him because he had skipped his meal and when you went to the garage and cleared your throat, he appeared in your vision, all rough and messed up. You stifled your smile and raised the glass in your hand. He simply asked you to leave it in the corner and go away. 

He forgot to drink that and you found it the next day in the same spot, to your dismay. 

You sighed to yourself when you recalled that day, placing the mop next to the wall while you cleaned the window in the living room. You spotted a car in front of your neighbour’s house where the old couple lived and you figured it might finally be their son paying them a visit. You had actually met the couple while on your way to the convenience store and they asked you if the doctor was giving you any trouble.

“I don’t know why he couldn’t have a housemate for so long,” the old woman shook his head in worry. “He’s such a kind young man. He checks on us every weekend even though he is busy and he makes sure we go to our monthly checkups.”

“Really?” That was unexpected. “Sounds like a kind young man indeed.”

She laughed. “You must be a good person if you’ve stuck around for this long. If he gives you any trouble, just let me know and I’ll give him an earful, yeah?”

You let out a short laugh, wanting to tell her that it was probably the other way round, but it had you wondering why his previous housemates didn’t last long enough with him. He wasn’t a very strict person and the rules weren’t something one couldn’t obey. Was it because of his cold demeanour? You had to admit that he was very mysterious and sometimes, you wondered just what exactly he did other than his medical practice. 

Maybe curiosity does kill the cat, so you would let it go.

You were just stacking the mops back in the shed when you heard the sound of Yunho’s bike- you could recognise the sound of his bike now- it wasn’t too loud like other bikes but had a deep sound. You turned to find him parking it in the garage and you checked your wristwatch.

“You’re… early today.”

It was half past four, the sun just starting to illuminate the sky. He usually came back when the sun was fully out. He took off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair, scanning you.

“Yes, I am,” he got off the bike, not offering an explanation. You didn’t need one either. He simply nodded at you once in greeting before going inside-

Leaving a trail of muddy boot prints again.

Cursing at him, you grabbed the mop and started cleaning after him, noticing he took off his shoes on the porch this time. You made a face at the shoes, wishing you could have made it at him and picked them up and wiped them on the grass to get most of the mud off before setting them back on the porch. When you got inside, Yunho cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to take care of my shoes, I’ve said it multiple times-”

“I just cleaned,” you clenched your jaw, turning to him. “Look. You’ve got rules in this house, and as your housemate, I’ll state my rules too.”

“Oh?” He looked amused. “Please, carry on.”

“Wipe your shoes on the grass before you take them off on the porch,” you exhaled, a weight off your shoulders. “I hate it when I have just cleaned the entire house and you come from work with your muddy shoes trampling all over my hard work.”

“Trampling might be a strong word…”

“You get my point,” you glared at him and he straightened, nodding. This was the first time he saw you angry and-

He was trying his best not to laugh right now.

“Any other rules?” He managed to ask without cracking up.

“Just…” you looked around. “Oh yes, I’ve got one. When you wash your hands in the sink, you should wipe your hands with that towel-” you pointed at the twin bunny hand towels hanging by the hook you attached on the wall next to the sink. “You can use the blue one. I have the towel for the purpose that you don’t go around spreading a water trail after yourself.”

This time, Yunho turned around and finally let out the laugh he had been holding back and you stood gaping at him, wondering if you should congratulate yourself for finally making him laugh or if the bubbling thing in your throat was your anger worsening. “What? If you don’t like that, you can kick me out.”

“No,” he turned around to face you, looking down. “I’m… sorry. I won’t do that again, I’ll abide by the rules. You don’t have to get so angry-”

“I’m not angry-”

Yunho stifled another smile, shaking his head as if to stop himself from laughing again and you narrowed your eyes. 

“You can laugh in front of me. I don’t bite.”

But perhaps, that was the wrong thing to say. His smile faded and he went back to being the same, cold doctor. “You should go to sleep now.”

Just like that, he dismissed you. He dismissed you like any other time you almost cracked through his cold, mysterious demeanour. And just like always, you let him dismiss you and left him alone.

He might not kick you out for setting these rules but if you continued to try to get him to break this wall he had built all around him… he would have no other option. Curiosity could kill you, you knew, but you were so curious about what kind of a person he was. You didn’t have many neighbours but the old couple insisted he was very kind and friendly when Yunho had been anything but friendly to you. He had been distant, unapproachable, sometimes talkative but rarely smiling like he had today. You refused to believe that this was who he was. He had the brightest smile and the most heartwarming laugh that you heard today, and you vowed to yourself that even though he might kick you out for crossing boundaries…

You would make him laugh. Slowly, and surely, you would break him.

—--------------------------

Yunho had had a few eventful days and perhaps, work was the only place he felt at home now, surrounded by all of his friends who knew him. Knew who he was. Knew and didn’t judge him for being the kind of person that he was. Sure, in his own home, he felt comfortable too (except for when a certain someone started nagging) but his true home was with his people.

And to find you pop up at his workplace without a notice made his eyes twitch in annoyance and realise that the urge to kill you might not be as strong as before but it was there alright.

“What are you doing here?” He said through gritted teeth, surprising not only the old lady from next door but also the staff who walked past you. 

“Jeong Yunho, that is no way to talk to a lady!” The woman said, shaking her head in disappointment and when you saw Yunho’s features soften when he met her gaze, you scoffed. “She was kind enough to walk me here- I’m having a lot of trouble with my vision all of a sudden.”

“You should have called the ambulance then,” Yunho frowned, taking the woman’s hand and guiding her across the hallway, disappearing at the end and you pursed your lips, deciding to take a seat in the waiting area.

You looked around- the clinic was big enough and the staff had been kind. It looked like it ran well. There weren’t many people here right now- only a few patients in the waiting and you read the board to see that there were a number of doctors available- a gynaecologist, dentist, paediatrician, psychiatrist, nephrologist, eye specialist, ent specialist and orthopaedic surgeon. You were reading the names of all the doctors when you felt eyes on you and you saw a man in a lab coat watching you with mild amusement. You looked away but when you realised he was still staring, you raised a brow at him and he finally approached you.

“I happened to see your interaction with Yunho earlier, and couldn’t help but wonder if you were the new housemate we’ve heard so much about?”

You were rendered speechless- first of all, he seemed to be pretty damn close with Yunho. Either that or he was nosy, but you knew Yunho wasn’t the type to keep nosy people around. And then… 

The housemate ‘we’ had heard so much about?

“Uh… You’re telling me that Dr. Jeong Yunho talks about me? Here? At his workplace? Who might you be?”

“I’m Dr. Jung Wooyoung,” he extended his hand and you shook it. “I’m the dentist here, and an old friend of Yunho’s. I don’t know if he mentioned but our friend group opened up this clinic here.”

“He mentioned colleagues, not friends,” you told him and he shook his head in disappointment. “But nice to meet you, doctor. I’m y/n, the housemate Yunho talks about a lot- all good things, I hope?”

Thus, Wooyoung started retelling every conversation he had with him about you and you found him very easy to talk to. There was just something about him that invited you to relax and let loose, and soon after you heard that Yunho had told them all about you being a nagger and a clean-freak weirdo writer, you were complaining about how Yunho was borderline mean to you and you found it hard to believe that he was the warm, kind and funny person that Wooyoung insisted he was.

“I mean… the lady that I brought with me? Our neighbour? I told her she was wrong when she said that Yunho was a kind young man, but you’re saying he’s the funny one? I haven’t seen him smile in days, Wooyoung.”

“He’ll get used to you in no time,” Wooyoung waved his hand in dismissal. “You just gotta keep trying. Me? I cracked him in two days.”

“No way,” you laughed. “I’ve only made him laugh once and it’s been about a month-”

“Haven’t you got patients waiting for you, Dr. Jung?” 

You froze, turning around slowly to see a tense Yunho standing at the corner, watching you two for god knows how long. You were about to apologise to Wooyoung for keeping him back but Wooyoung scoffed at Yunho.

“I expected better from you, mate. I like this one- I’m taking her to Hongjoong’s room,” Wooyoung said, getting up and helping you up too, steering you by your shoulders towards the hallway even though you protested and when you looked back to catch a glimpse of Yunho, you caught him shaking his head in disappointment-

But he let out a chuckle. He probably thought you couldn’t see him. He probably laughed because of Wooyoung. But he was going to get so mad at you-

“Don’t worry, he won’t kick you out,” Wooyoung almost whispered, winking at you. “If he tries anything, you come to me, okay? I’ll handle him.”

“Thanks,” you smiled awkwardly. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

“I would have taken you to Mingi, who’s Yunho’s oldest friend and would have given you tips on how to make Yunho give you the princess treatment, but he’s a little occupied right now so I’m taking you to Yunho’s second-oldest friend, Hongjoong.”

“When I accompanied the neighbour lady, I didn’t mean to intrude,” you paused in your tracks, looking at Wooyoung. “I’m not sure I should be here-”

“It’s okay,” Wooyoung assured you with a wide smile. “Relax. Yunho is not some big angry dude who’ll give you an earful at home. I’ll explain- and by now, he probably knows that I’m the one who’s basically kidnapped you.”

You laughed, allowing him to guide you to the eye specialist’s room and when you went inside, you saw the doctor packing his belongings. When he raised his head and brushed the dark strands away, he frowned at Wooyoung. 

“The guest doesn’t look too pleased to be here, Wooyoung.”

“This is Yunho’s housemate,” Wooyoung grinned cheekily and Hongjoong said a loud ‘oh’, greeting you. “She’s the writer, Hongjoong. The crime fiction writer.”

“Ah,” Hongjoong nodded. “I read your book when Yunho told us who you were- ‘In the Silent Hours’? Amazing read.”

You were genuinely touched. “Thank you so much. I wish I could say something, but Yunho hasn’t told me anything about you all.”

“We know,” he laughed. “He can be like that. I hope you had a good experience visiting us, though, and if you have any concerns, you know where to come.”

You looked at Wooyoung who was smiling proudly. “I have way too many questions but I won’t ask- Yunho has a ‘no interfering in personal lives’ policy,” you said and they laughed as if that was the funniest thing Yunho could have done. “I’ll drop by with cookies some day, if you’re okay with that?”

“Sounds great!” Wooyoung clapped. 

“I should really get going now and catch up with Yunho on our neighbour’s condition,” you said, excusing yourself and they enthusiastically said goodbye, making you unable to contain your smile as you made your way back to the entrance where Yunho was discussing something with a nurse-

Goodness, he looked so fucking hot in that lab coat with his hair done. You were positive his outworldly proportions were what made a boring lab coat look so attractive-

He caught you staring and when he finished talking with the nurse, he slowly made his way to you.

“Where’s grandma?” You asked. “Did you find out what’s wrong?”

“We’ve referred her to the nearest hospital and called her family- it seems to be a case of infarct and she’s lucky that she’s still walking and functioning like normal save for her eyes.”

“Oh-”

“And thanks to you bringing her so soon, we’ve managed to minimise the damage,” Yunho actually smiled this time and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. “She’s resting right now- they’ll take care of her until her family comes.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. 

“Well…” Yunho checked the time and you did the same- it was almost 2 which meant he would be off soon. “It’s almost time to go home. You walked here?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I should get going then.”

When Yunho didn’t say anything, you said bye and turned to leave but then you heard the familiar voice of Wooyoung shout ‘take her home, don’t be an ass!’ and you stifled a grin, facing Yunho to assure you that you would be okay walking-

“I mean… we’re going to the same place, so… I could make an exception this time- like the other exceptions I’m making,” Yunho narrowed his eyes at you. “I will pretend today didn’t happen.”

“Oh, please, I’ll walk myself home-”

“I’m kidding,” Yunho smiled and you wondered if it was the place that made him comfortable enough to joke with you. “I would have considered dissecting you alive if you dropped by for no reason, but really, you did a good thing today. Think of it as returning the sentiment.”

“I really don’t get you,” you said, ignoring the reference he made to your last inquiry about dissections, waiting for him when he said he would get his things from his room. When he returned with his bag, helmet and without the lab coat, you followed him outside, repeating that. “I really don’t get you, Yunho. You seem like two different people in one body.”

“Perhaps, I am,” he mused. “And perhaps, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Here, wear this.”

He handed you his helmet and you took it, watching him get on his bike. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you can wear this, I’ll be fine-”

“Y/n,” he warned, the sudden change in his pitch sending butterflies in your stomach. “Just do as I say. Now, get on and hold on tight. I’m not slowing down for you.”

And perhaps, you should have insisted more on walking back home because he sped through the streets, making you grip his jacket tighter with each passing second, but it was so thrilling that when you reached home, you almost asked for a second round. You took off the helmet and laughed out loud, shaking your head.

“It’s not my first time riding on a bike with someone, but it’s been ages. Can I get another ride one day?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Yunho warned, helping you get off and then parking the bike in his garage. “And I hope you don’t have any questions regarding my workplace today.”

“Oh, I have many, but…” you motioned to your lips, zipping them shut and Yunho nodded in approval, unlocking the house and going inside first. You muttered ‘ass’ and went to the kitchen, heating up everything you had made today, mind still plagued with the events of today.

—-----------------------

You finished plating the steaks, satisfied at your presentation, the cheese perfectly melted on top of the fried crust. It smelled heavenly and since you now knew that Yunho was an actual food enthusiast and a surprisingly gentle and constructive critic, the simple chore of cooking became something you started looking forward to.

When you lived alone, you never made much effort to cook for yourself, but now, things were different. Your house owner was reducing your rent in exchange for home-cooked meals and you could deliver, so you waited for Yunho who would be coming downstairs any minute- he had informed you that he had to leave for work early today so you prepared accordingly, though anyone could tell you were putting more effort into the meals now.

And that was because ever since the day in Yunho’s clinic, it looked like he was finally starting to consider you more than a housemate. You couldn’t exactly call yourselves friends- the rules were still the same, but perhaps, Yunho liked that you were a person of your word. You never talked about that day in the hospital, neither did you ask him about his friends. You never asked him what happened if he came back home at an odd time or if he suddenly went out in the middle of the night. You both respected each other’s boundaries and perhaps, that was what made him start opening up to you.

It wasn’t much, no. It was the little things- him offering to help you arrange the grocery or join you when you watched netflix. He would scroll on his phone, occasionally comment on whatever you were watching and then leave. It was him actually cleaning after himself when he accidentally brought his muddy shoes inside- you gave him a thumbs-up to acknowledge his effort and even that got him flustered, which you thought was cute. And it was him actually taking interest in what you were writing instead of giving answers to the questions you asked. 

When you heard his footsteps down the stairs, you pretended to be busy setting the table and he made an impressed face as he took a seat. 

“This is new,” he commented, waiting for you to sit before he could dig in.

“I’ve had this recipe for a while and finally felt the urge to try it,” you told him. When he took the first bite and nodded in approval, you relaxed and began eating yourself. 

“It’s been about two months. You don’t have to worry about what I think about your cooking. I’ll have it even if it doesn’t taste like something straight out of a restaurant.”

“Can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, but I like it when the other person starts first- when I cook,” you said. He understood. He always seemed to understand where you came from, which was why you both rarely ever disagreed on things.

“It’s really good,” he said. “Also, I wanted to, uh, inform you- there’s a fundraiser happening at the clinic to help the patients who can’t afford to pay their bills. If you would like to participate…”

You passed him a side-eye. “That’s not you talking, is it?”

“You’re right,” he looked guilty. “Wooyoung and Hongjoong forced me to. Something about… cookies?”

“Oh? They remember?”

“They said it’s a good opportunity to flaunt your baking skills if you’re up for it,” Yunho shook his head in thought. “I personally think it’s okay if you don’t want to bake for strangers-”

“When is it?”

“This weekend.”

“I can do it,” you said and when he looked like he was regretting asking you, you continued, “If you have some qualms about me personally attending it, I could just bake the cookies and you could take them with you.”

“No, it’s not that,” he scratched his neck. “It’s…”

“I know, and I don’t mind,” you assured him. “I agreed to your terms when I decided to move in here. I won’t interfere in your workspace if that is what you want-”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just… new for me too,” he admitted and you paused, a bit surprised to hear that. “I’ll let you know the timings-”

His gaze stuck on the kitchen counter for a few moments, prompting you to follow it and see that he was staring holes into the knife holder. You looked at Yunho again to make sure if that was what he was staring at and then his gaze went to the cabinet at the left end of the kitchen-

“Where did you get those knives?”

For a moment, you wondered if his change of tone was something you were imagining until he got up and slowly walked to the counter where the knife holder was, taking out one of the knives and examining it and then almost rushing towards the cabinet at the left end and opening it-

“I told you not to touch the locked cabinets, didn’t I?”

You would have perhaps trembled under his dark gaze if you weren’t so confused right now. “The locked cabinets, yes? But that one was unlocked?”

Yunho glared at you, knife still in his hand. “When did you check it?”

“I was looking for a knife strong enough to cut meat and I found this cabinet unlocked-”

“You used this knife to cut the meat?”

You could feel your hands get clammy by now, lower lip almost quivering and you hated how small your voice sounded when you said yes. He turned around and almost grunted in pain and you wondered just what you had done so wrong. Almost mechanically, you took another bite of your now cold steak. Yunho came back to his seat but instead of sitting, he dropped the knife on the table with a clang.

“You knew that cabinet used to be locked, didn’t you?” His loud voice shook you and you wondered what effect he would have if he shouted. “You keep breaking rules without breaking them-”

“Well it’s not my fault it was unlocked, okay?” You shouted this time, dropping your utensils on the table, frustrated. “You should have locked it properly then!”

Before he could respond, you stormed off to your room, shutting your door with a bang and he slumped down on his chair, trying to take deep breaths, trying to suppress the feeling of disgust he got when he looked at his half-eaten meal-

Because you fucking used his knife to make a meal for him.

The knife he had killed several people with.

How could he forget to lock it? He couldn’t recall not locking it, but still, how could he be so careless? How could he-

He heard a muffled sound- it was hard to miss because the house was usually very silent, but it had to be the sound of you sobbing and to his surprise, despite everything, something in his heart ached at the sound. Now that the cloud of anger was disappearing, he realised he had reacted irrationally. It was his fault for not making sure the cabinet with his murder weapons was locked. He kept them in the kitchen so it wouldn’t be suspicious if someone saw, but still, he should have hidden them well. And then what he said about you continuing to break rules when he himself invited you to the fundraiser-

Yes, Wooyoung suggested it but it was ultimately him who invited you. Yunho shook his head, disappointed in himself and wondered what to do. He came to the conclusion that for now, he needed to collect his thoughts while you sobbed. Shit, he thought. He must have scared you a lot. He had been told way too many times that he was a scary person when angry, and you did not have to see that when you spent an hour making him such a good meal. 

So, disappointed and praying to the heavens above that you at least washed the knives properly before you used them, he resumed eating, almost gagging through the rest of the meal and when he was done and had one glass of cool water down his system to calm himself, he finally mustered the courage to get up, be a man and apologise to you.

The thing about you, he realised since you moved here, was that you were odd in a charming way. When he was looking for a housemate who would maintain the house and cook, he didn’t expect someone who was so dedicated to the task. You were busy too, but it looked like you had shifted your schedule to adjust to his. When he was gone to work, you slept, and when he came back, you would be waiting for him. You had added life to this house and he couldn’t believe how much his mood had changed now that the house looked like a home and he ate well. 

You always gave and gave, expecting nothing in return. Perhaps, that’s just who you were. A good person, someone he could only wish to be. Someone who only wrote about horrible crimes instead of actually committing them. Someone who believed that her house owner was a respectable doctor and not a part-time serial killer as well.

That was debatable too. He had a purpose- he didn’t kill randomly. He only killed the people who deserved it. But that was a story for later- he couldn’t come into your room and tell you that reason, so what the hell was he doing standing in front of your door?

Yunho knocked gently and when you fell silent but didn’t respond, he knocked again. 

“Y/n? Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Please?”

It was the gentleness in his voice that made you mutter a small yes, but only after you wiped your tears away. Truth be told, you weren’t that sensitive. You weren’t sure why you ended up throwing a tantrum and crying tonight but you figured it was long due now. You just wished you could explain to him without becoming a mess again-

And then he opened the door, looking worriedly at you. Worriedly, with his brows scrunched and actions hesitant and you found your vision getting blurry with tears again. 

Dammit. 

You looked away but from the corner of your eye you saw him look around the room once before hesitantly walking to where you were- on the floor, back resting against the bed. To your surprise, he sank down next to you, mirroring your position.

“I don’t know how to say it, but I’m sorry,” he almost whispered. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It’s my fault.”

A fresh stream of tears left your eyes and you weren’t sure if it was because of what happened earlier or what he said now. He couldn’t simply come inside your room and apologise and act like it wouldn’t affect you.

“Will you look at me?”

You wiped your tears and turned to face him, hesitating to meet his eyes. He understood. He shifted a bit towards you. “No explanation will make it better, and I’m ashamed that I reacted this way when it’s my fault that I left that cabinet unlocked. I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you when you do so much for me without asking.”

“Yes,” your voice was quivering as much as your lips. “It’s your fault. I mean… I won’t ask but they are just knives, Yunho.”

And then you were crying again at the absurdity of it all and Yunho decided to take responsibility. He patted your head awkwardly and when you buried your head between your knees, he drew closer and wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he attempted to sound sincere- he was, but you didn’t need to know that he was also stifling grins. “I scared you, right?”

“You did!” You cried. “Do you know how awful you look when you’re angry? And holding that knife? I thought you were going to stab me, Yunho.”

And this time, Yunho laughed heartily, making you laugh as well and push him away. He put a hand on the side of your face to cup it, still laughing as he said, “Please. Who would cook for me if I killed you?”

“I don’t know,” you pouted. “You have a lot of friends. Maybe one of them could cook for you.”

Yunho smiled at that, wiping your tears away and you suddenly felt conscious of the position you two were in, though he didn’t seem to realise it yet- or he was ignoring it, for once. “Sorry for almost yelling at you. And sorry for saying everything that I did.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, scanning his features now that you were looking at him up close for the first time. You noticed how warm his eyes could look, how soft his features actually were. He looked perfect, and if it weren’t for all the rules that would cost you a living space, you would have crossed a lot of boundaries by now. “I’m sure you had your reasons- and I should have asked when I found the cabinet unlocked.”

“But that doesn’t justify my behaviour one bit,” he shook his head. “Now, will you come out and finish your dinner?”

“But-”

“I have finished mine,” he told you. “And now you should too. I’ll go heat it up.”

With a pat to your cheek, he left the room, leaving you wrapped in his clean and manly scent. You sighed deeply, avoiding the mirror but wiping your face before taking a seat back at the table. You watched him set the table for you. 

“You should go now,” you said. “You had to leave early. I’ve probably held you back a lot, I’m sorry-”

“I’ll go when you finish eating,” he insisted and you shot him a glare before picking up your fork.

“Just so you know,” you said as you took a bite, Yunho watching you earnestly. “I don’t usually become a crying mess like I just did. I’m stronger than that.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I am,” you glared at him again. “But I have my limit too. And today was all the pent up emotions from the previous two months.”

“All because of me, huh?”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself,” you teased. “I have other things to worry about too.”

“Of course you do,” he smiled.

“Yep. Like deadlines. And chores.”

“I hope the fundraiser won’t conflict with your deadline?”

“It won’t,” you told him. “You’re assuming I’ll attend.”

“I’ll make sure you do,” he said as you finished eating the last bite. “Because I’m the one who’s inviting you.”

Perhaps, this was another step towards a relationship more meaningful than housemates. Perhaps… 

He was finally starting to consider you a friend.

—-------------------------------

Sometimes, Yunho wondered if it was a good decision to have you as his housemate.

It wasn’t that you were doing anything wrong, no. You were perfect. Goodness, you were perfect and he both loved and hated that. He had no idea how he got lucky with you- and he was not thinking about the fact that he got to have delicious meals at home or his place looked maintained. 

It was about the things he could talk to you about, and hell, he didn’t even talk to you much. You probably had no idea how much he enjoyed your little questions about what was the most painful way to die or how you would kill someone in a certain context- it was the only time, perhaps, that he could be himself. He had spent a long time being convinced by his friends that he was not a bad person inside, and perhaps, they were right. But if they were…

Why did he enjoy talking to you about this stuff so much? Was it because these secrets were a burden to him, even though his friends knew? He never told them the details so perhaps, talking about killing people and hurting them in detail with you helped him in some twisted, cathartic way. Whatever it was, he was certain that he was getting addicted to watching you get impressed by his knowledge about such things he claimed was from years of his surgery practice, and he was also ashamedly addicted about how unhinged you sounded when you talked about the criminals in your fiction.

He was positive you couldn’t be an undercover-something. You couldn’t even hurt a fly, let alone a human. But the way you got excited when you talked in detail about a certain type of wound or method of torture… he often found himself zoning out and simply staring at you while you talked. Perhaps, he was the unhinged one, but he found you so attractive when you talked about what you loved writing about, and he was very close to asking you about what made you write such gory crime fiction novels. He would be breaking his own rule of not interfering in each other’s personal lives, but all rules be damned- he had to know what drove you to write all of this.

He was also pretty sure you weren’t as naive as you looked and probably found his habits weird. There was no way he could look redeemable after the knife incident. While you were gone the next day, he personally sanitised all of them because he was sure you were going to keep using those knives. He figured it turned out to be okay in the end- he had to change his murder weapons and method soon anyway. The police were starting to connect a few dots and he was sure they would come with a search warrant any day.

But perhaps, it was a good decision to have you in this house. If the police ever came, you could help with Yunho’s image. He felt guilty for using you for that purpose now that he was almost starting to care about you despite his principles but… in the end, it was all turning out to be good. All was well.

A bit too well, if he had to say, as he watched you get a little too chummy with Mingi and Wooyoung. You had done a good job at the fundraiser, having baked dozens of cookies and with some strange ribbon packaging you claimed was cute. He took care of the stall but you still brought a lot of decoration from the house to give it a personal touch, and not only the visitors but the staff were also impressed by your skills. Now that the event was done and you were wrapping up everything, Mingi and Wooyoung had casually joined you to help and to praise your work. Yunho didn’t miss the subtle glances they threw in his direction as if to tease him, and what could he say?

It was working.

“Are you gonna keep watching her like she’s your next target or are you going to make a move?”

Yunho shut his eyes in mild annoyance before looking to his right where Seonghwa stood with his trademark smile, nodding at the visitors who greeted him before they left. If anyone knew that behind the kind smile of the paeds doctor was one of the masterminds of their team that essentially rooted out the evil from the society… 

“I’d rather watch. I know Mingi or Wooyoung will say something stupid if I approach them now.”

Seonghwa chuckled at that. “She’s done a good job today. She’s extraordinary, Yunho.”

Yunho narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you two were discussing her novel when you took a break in the cafe.”

“You know what I think?” Seonghwa almost whispered as if letting him in on a secret. “If she was a part of our team, we could actually succeed in working with the police.”

“How?”

“Think about it,” he bowed at one of the elders who passed by. “Imagine her next work is about what we do. Crime fiction to others, but something the police could use to clean up our mess, yeah?”

Once again, Yunho was in awe of the way Seonghwa’s mind worked. “The police would use that to arrest us.”

“Or they would turn a blind eye and let us do their dirty work. Two sides of the coin,” Seonghwa patted Yunho’s back and left to join Hongjoong and Yunho considered what he had said. When he saw Mingi pick something out of your hair, though, he decided he’d had enough.

“Ah, you’re here,” Wooyoung had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Y/n, now is your time to tell us if you’d like to change your houseowner.”

“Nah, I’m good,” you grinned, meeting Yunho’s eyes who looked pleased to hear that. “This one is good at pretending I don’t exist so sometimes I feel like I own the house myself.”

Mingi laughed loudly at that and Yunho smiled in embarrassment. He was guilty, yes. When you noticed his ears getting red, you laughed. “I’m just kidding. I really couldn’t have a better person as a housemate.”

“You’re lying,” Wooyoung smacked your arm playfully and you put the last of the things in your duffel bag.

“You won’t understand,” you simply told Wooyoung and chanced a glance at Yunho who no longer looked embarrassed and offered to take your bag. You let him and said your goodbyes to the two, waving at the rest of the staff who told you to come again (with baked treats) and you followed Yunho to the parking lot. This time, you had made sure he had a spare helmet and when he noticed you grinning, he asked you what was so funny.

“Nothing, I’m just excited to ride your bike again,” you giggled like a kid. “I kind of have a thing for bikes.”

And there it was. Another reason Yunho felt his heart pound rather uncharacteristically. 

Perhaps, that was what prompted him to break one of his biggest rules and ask, “Would you like to have dinner somewhere… with me? You must be too tired to make dinner at home, and I know a quiet spot if you’re up for it- if not… that’s okay too, we could order something instead-”

He paused when he noticed your smile growing and he raised a brow in question. You wanted to tell him that he was rambling (which was cute as hell) but you only nodded. “I’d love to. You’re right, I’m tired- and a quiet spot sounds nice at this hour. I won’t say no to a longer bike ride too.”

Yunho chuckled at that as he put on his helmet. You followed and got on the bike behind him. “It’s not gonna be a short trip if you’re okay.”

“I’m good!” You assured and he told you to hang on tight as he started the heavy bike and started driving towards the darkening horizon. You put your hands on Yunho’s shoulders but as he sped on the emptier roads, you resorted to clutching the sides of his jacket and rested your head on his back, watching the view. You loved how quiet it got in your head at times like these and it almost made you wish this moment would never end.

You didn’t know how much time passed but finally, Yunho started slowing down and you looked up, finding yourself at the riverside. When he parked in an empty space, he got down first and helped you down. You took off your helmet and smoothened your hair, looking around. It seemed to be a remote spot that the tourists had not yet discovered and the pretty lightning bordering the sidewalk illuminated the benches at the distance and-

“Fried chicken!” You grinned. “I didn’t know what I was craving until I smelt it.”

Yunho smiled, motioning you to follow him. He led you inside where you placed your orders and you both decided to take one of the tables outside. There weren’t many people here anyway so you were going to enjoy the cool river breeze.

Now that you sat in front of him, it finally settled in that you were outside with Yunho for the first time. That he offered to take you out for dinner. It didn’t help that he looked absolutely dreamy with his dark hair falling messily on his forehead and his shoulder looking even broader in the black jacket he wore, and when he ran a hand through his hair, swiping it away from his forehead-

He met your eyes and you realised you had been staring. You awkwardly sipped your water and looked towards your left, urging yourself to focus on the sound of the waves instead of the sound of your erratic heartbeat. You cleared your throat. “How did you find this spot? It’s beautiful.”

“I used to live near here when I was little,” he smiled and you thought there was something sad about it. 

“Oh, your parents must still live around here then?” You wondered and when his smile fell, you knew you had asked a question you shouldn’t have. 

But to your surprise, he answered, “They passed away when I was in highschool. I had to move out soon, so I couldn’t come back here for a good few years.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry to hear that,” you said and he told you it was okay. “I can tell why this place is close to your heart though. It’s wonderful here.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said and you were glad your chicken arrived at that moment, breaking the awkwardness from your conversation. “How did today go? You’re quite popular at the clinic now.”

You grinned, “Nobody can resist chocolate chip cookies, apparently. Wooyoung said I helped raise a lot of money.”

“You did,” Yunho confirmed and you both took a bite of the chicken. You groaned in appreciation.

“I don’t know if it's the river or the vibe,” you said after swallowing the first bite. “But doesn’t the chicken taste so good here?”

“There’s a reason I brought you here,” he laughed at the way you stared at the chicken. “Good food and a killer view.”

It took you both a few pieces to get comfortable and this time, when you asked him about the clinic and all his friends, he answered all your questions. You learned that Yunho and Mingi were school friends and Yunho met Hongjoong at the end of highschool. Their group expanded over the years and today, after years of studying and working together, they had their own place. 

Yunho also asked you about your recent progress and you complained about your publishers. He then asked where you were originally from and he learned that you were from a small town at the outskirts of the city and had a younger brother but your relationship with your family was a bit strained so you didn’t visit them often. He also found that you didn’t have many friends, just a few you met annually. He realised then why it was so easy for you to get comfortable with Wooyoung and Mingi- perhaps, they reminded you of your friends, or maybe you missed normal human interaction. 

As you finished eating, you asked him what urged him to really bring you here tonight. Yunho looked at you as if to make you reconsider your question but when you held your front, he finally gave in. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” he shrugged. “You do a lot. I haven’t done anything in return.”

“Uh, forty percent off?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Just accept the sentiment and shut up.”

“Yes sir,” you saluted and he paid the bill, insisting it was his treat even though you asked to split the bill. “Well, if you won’t let me pay, maybe we can walk a little before we go?”

“That makes no sense, but okay,” Yunho said, shaking his head in amusement and you took the lead, going towards the edge to peek down at the river and then you started your stroll.

“Isn’t it nice to get some fresh air?” You commented, taking a deep breath. “No worries, just the river and us.” 

Yunho nodded silently and you grinned. “If you have more spots like these… don’t hide them from me.”

“Just this one,” he admitted and you nodded, satisfied. “What about you? Do you have a spot like this?”

You had… until everything went horribly wrong. You had a place so close to your heart that you hadn’t visited in years-

“You okay?” Yunho asked worriedly, having noticed your smile drop.

“Uh, yeah,” you pursed your lips. “I had one. I don’t go there anymore- bad memories.”

“Ah… sorry I asked-”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “If I grow the guts one day… I’ll take you there.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Just shut up and accept the offer,” you winked at him and he grinned at your statement. You noticed you had already walked around the area, the parking lot in your vision now. Before you could walk towards it, Yunho called your name, making you pause in your tracks.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“Did you mean it when you said… earlier at the clinic…” Yunho put his hands in his pockets awkwardly, trying to phrase it better. “When you-”

“When I said you were a good housemate?” You asked, internally smiling because you just knew he would end up asking you to elaborate. “I meant it.”

“Why? I have been anything but nice.”

“That’s a lie,” you pointed out. “Just because you have a few rules you’re strict about doesn’t mean you’re not nice company when you’re in a good mood. And you answer all my weird questions without judgement!” You clapped your hands. “What more could I ask for?”

When you saw that he didn’t look convinced, you took a deep breath. “To be honest, my life was falling apart before I moved in with you. Everything started going wrong at the same time. It was too much and I really thought I would have to go back to my hometown- and I would go anywhere but there. So when we made a deal? Yes, I thought you were strange at first but I couldn’t complain, and now that we’ve… warmed up to each other a bit, you’re not bad company at all, Yunho. You may still be an asshole about your rules,” you laughed and he joined, the corners of his lips curving downwards- was he flustered? “But I can see why the people at the clinic like you. You’re quite dependable.”

“That’s…”

“Too much?” You laughed. “In short, you gave me a nice deal and my life is finally back to normal, and you’re a good person, you idiot. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I think you’re getting a little too comfortable with me though…”

“Yeah?” You walked towards the bike. “Says the guy who basically took me on a date.”

And there it was again- the flustered smile of his that was so endearing, the ears turning red and the nervous laugh as he wondered what to do, where to look. You laughed out loud, finding it quite funny.

“You’re a very easy prey, Dr. Jeong,” you teased. “Quite easy to get to.”

“Did you really think of this as a date?” He held his helmet, waiting for your answer and you thought about it.

“Platonic date?” You wondered. “Outing? Icebreaking party? Whatever you wanna name it…”

You faltered when he stepped closer and looked down at you, scanning your face. Suddenly, you were so conscious of the proximity between you two. The dim lights made his gaze look darker and you wished you could take a peak in his mind. He brought his hand up and tucked your hair behind your ear ever so gently, lightly caressing your cheek-

And then he poked you in the middle of the forehead, making you wince out loud.

“I’m still the grumpy mysterious owner,” he quoted what you had said to Wooyoung today and you gaped at him, wondering if he had heard the entirety of the conversation. “So don’t get too ahead of yourself, okay?”

You rubbed your forehead, muttering okay and complaining about how he could have just said so. But when you wore your helmet and settled down behind him, clutching at the sides of his jacket, he held your hands in his and you couldn’t even digest how his big hands engulfed your small ones before he wrapped your arms around his waist.

“It’s better this way- I’m speeding,” he said.

“I really don’t get you, Yunho,” you told him and he cast you a glance before starting to drive, speeding as promised. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t have cared if you held on to the sides of his jacket like earlier or his shoulders for dear life but… 

But you wouldn’t complain. So you rested your head against his back again, bodies flush against each other and you let yourself feel whatever you were feeling for the ride back home.

—---------------------------- 

It was a good day today- somewhat productive because you were almost done writing your book and the editor was pleased with your work too. Yunho was having dinner with his colleagues tonight so you decided not to cook and just have the leftovers from yesterday for dinner then and went to your room to finally sort out the mess you had been avoiding ever since you moved in-

The books.

While you had lined all your books along the walls, creating towers of them that you were scared would one day fall on you if you ever made a clumsy mistake, you had realised that perhaps it was time you let go of some of the books. You could already feel your heart being broken at the thought but your room was starting to look too congested compared to the rest of the spacious house so you would have to make a little sacrifice. 

So you spent hours sorting through the books and almost didn’t hear Yunho coming downstairs until he knocked on your room, eyes widening at the books around you.

“Yeah, I know I’m a mess,” you said. “Are you leaving?” 

“Yeah,” Yunho nodded, laughing in what seemed to be shock. “Do you need… help?”

“No, I’m just sorting them out,” you dismissed, though surprised at the offer. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Yunho was still lingering at the doorway. “Well, I don’t know when I’ll be back, so…”

“Have fun,” you looked at him, grinning. “I’ll be fine. This is something I do annually.”

“If you say so. Don’t get lost in there,” he teased and you rolled your eyes, shooing him away. 

And that was that. You didn’t even realise how much time passed- you kept getting distracted as you held each book in hand and recalled the memories associated with it. It was only when the doorbell rang that you frowned, checking the clock. It was 09:47 pm- who could it be? Not Yunho- he had his keys. Maybe the woman from next door?

But when you opened the door to two grown men with badges around their necks, you did a quick scan, realising two things- that they were detectives, and one of the faces was way too familiar.

“Good evening, miss,” the younger one said. “We’re Detectives Lee and Seo from the station-”

“Y/n?” The older one- the familiar face called your name and suddenly, it clicked-

It clicked. Everything you had buried deep inside you, somewhere so deep that you hadn’t thought about it in perhaps a year, was suddenly out and washing over you like a wave of cold water. Everything from about two decades ago started flashing in front of your eyes and you gulped down the thing stuck in your throat with immense effort. 

“Detective Seo?” Your voice sounded small even to your ears. 

“It’s been a while,” he looked as confused as you. “I didn’t expect to see you here- doesn’t this house belong to a Doctor Jeong Yunho?”

“You’re right,” you told him. “I live on the first floor on rent.”

“I see… Can we come in then?”

“If you’re here to meet Dr. Jeong, he’s not home right now-”

“We can wait,” he told you. “Besides… it’s been a while- won’t you invite us for tea?”

“You can’t just visit so late at night and expect tea,” you folded your arms, finally getting a grip. “What is the purpose of your visit, really?”

“We really needed a statement, or anything from the doctor,” Detective Seo said. “Let us wait for him for half an hour, and then we’ll leave.”

You considered kicking them out but then figured they could wait. Yunho would probably be late and they would have to go back after half an hour without anything. Plus, it didn’t look like Detective Seo was about to budge anytime soon. The other detective also looked intrigued and you gave in, allowing them to the living room though just like two decades ago, Detective Seo made a point of roaming around-

“That your room?” He pointed at the mess of books and you stifled the urge to pass a biting remark.

“Yes, I was a little busy as you can probably see. Please, take a seat.”

While you asked Detective Lee if he would like some tea, you kept an eye on the older detective who was now looking around the living room. You turned on the kettle- there was no way you were going to serve them the fancier teas you had. They would have to make do with teabags.

“How long since you moved here?”

“Is that related to your current investigation?” You asked and he scoffed.

“Come on, y/n. Don’t act like we’re strangers here. Are you still in contact with your family?”

And there it was.

“Not really,” you simply said. “I moved out for college and only visit annually.”

“How’s your mother doing?”

Your mother. Your brother. The people who destroyed you.

“She’s okay, probably,” you said. Your voice was already starting to crack, and that was not a good sign. The kettle turned off and you poured the boiling water carefully into the cups, wondering if Yunho returning early would make things better or worse.

“I moved here around that time too,” he said, taking the cup from you with thanks and after giving the other to Detective Lee, you went to stand near the kitchen, folding your arms again. “I visit a lot though. I heard your brother got into a good college.”

“Yeah, well,” you pursed your lips. “I suppose he did.”

“Do you still blame yourself for what happened back then?”

You pretended to not hear that question and asked the detective to take a seat. It was getting annoying now that he walked casually towards the kitchen, scanning the notes stuck on the fridge- Yunho’s “eat your dinner pls” that you only noticed now, your to-do list and grocery list, and the silly magnets. He made a face and placed his empty cup on the sink-

And then he spotted the knife holder.

“That’s a lot of knives,” he commented.

“I cook. A lot,” you said, wishing you had made that teabag tea for yourself too- anything to keep you from squirming. The detective looked at you suspiciously before taking his hand out of his pocket-

“Do not touch my knives, Detective,” you glared at him. “Can you please get out of the kitchen and wait in the living room?”

“I’m just looking,” he dismissed you and to your annoyance, took out one of the knives to examine, and then the other, then the other-

“I said, do not touch my knives.”

Yunho, who was standing outside the house near the kitchen window that was slightly ajar so he could hear everything, felt his heart swell in pride and admiration- he had never heard you state anything as strongly before. He contained in his sigh of relief, wondering if now was the right time to barge in.

Truth be told, he had spotted their car as soon as he entered the street and at first he thought that you had broken one of the rules and invited someone but upon a closer look, he realised with dread that the car belonged to the detectives who had just recently connected one of the cases with his clinic. He parked his bike in the garage and when he heard voices from the kitchen window, he went to eavesdrop and realised that they had just entered.

“No need to get so angry over some kitchen knives,” Detective Seo’s voice was stern. “What do you need so many for anyway? Are they yours?”

“I’m the only one who can cook,” you were seething now. “And what’s it to you?”

“Well, this one looks oddly familiar.”

“Yeah? It’s for cutting vegetables, Detective. I bet your wife owns it too- if you have one. That one’s for dicing, the one on top for fish because I feel like it remains stinky so it’s only for fish. You have a problem with that?”

Yunho stifled a smile- you were rambling now. He wondered why you didn’t simply tell them that they were his knives originally. He was positive the detectives would be connecting the dots right away and going back for an arrest warrant-

“Well, you see,” Detective Seo picked the longest knife out. “This one?”

“For meat,” you muttered. 

“This one matches the murder weapon in the case we’re investigating,” he looked at you. “12 inches, dull but sharpened far too many times.”

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “So someone’s committed murder with a kitchen knife? They’re a genius.”

“How so?”

“Who doesn’t own a kitchen knife?” You almost cried. “They’re probably making a fool out of you, go back to your home and look in your kitchen. You probably have a 12 inch dull meat knife too.”

“How would you know?” Detective Lee asked this time. “That they’re making a fool out of us?”

“Why else would they use such an inconvenient weapon? Either for the thrill, or to make a fool out of you. Or both. Just… put the knife back, okay?”

“You’ve always been an odd one, and you always knew way too much,” Detective Seo put the knife back but narrowed his eyes at you. “Where were you on the 17th around midnight?”

“Around midnight, every day of every year for the past few years, I’ve been home. And I hope you go raiding everyone’s kitchen now that you know what your murder weapon looks like. Also, why are you even here? To investigate me? Again?”

“We came for Dr. Jeong-”

“You think he goes around committing murder only to operate on them later in his clinic? He’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake,” you shut your eyes, feeling a burning sensation in both your throat and eyes. “Please, leave. You can meet Dr. Jeong elsewhere- I’ll ask him to contact you.”

“And why are you getting so jittery?” Detective Seo asked. “Is there something you’re hiding again? Someone you’re protecting again? Or are you just protecting yourself-”

Yunho couldn’t take it anymore- he’d heard enough, and the whimper that left you made his vision dark for a moment. Rushing to the front door, he unlocked it and entered, shutting it a bit loudly to prove a point-

And saw you standing in the middle of the room, curling in on yourself, eyes weary. If hearing you sound like that wasn’t enough, having to look at you in this state was worse and he wished he had acted earlier. He didn’t know what took over him but he rushed to you and wrapped you in his arms-

And when you buried your face in his chest, relaxing instantly in his grasp, red hot anger ran through his veins as he assessed the detectives who stood awkwardly around him.

“How dare you make my girl cry?” He almost growled, wrapping his arms tighter, almost possessively around you. “What are you doing here?”

Detective Seo shook his head in disbelief and Detective Lee took the lead. “We came to talk to you about a few things- it’s very hard to reach you-”

“So you come barging into my house and bombard someone unrelated with questions and make her cry?” Yunho scoffed. “A phone call? Summoning me to the station? Or at least a search warrant, which I bet you don’t have, just like before. Shall I report you for misconduct?”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Detective Seo finally butted in. “Y/n and I were just catching up- we’re actually acquaintances-”

You shook your head in Yunho’s grasp to let him know that you did not want to be a part of this ‘catching up’ and Yunho patted your back.

“She says otherwise,” Yunho caressed your hair. “I don’t care if you’ve met before. You’re clearly unwanted. Please, leave. You have my number, you can contact me later, but do not make the mistake of coming here again. And do not try to make contact with her again.”

Shrugging, the detectives left, Detective Lee muttering a silent apology on behalf of them both. When you heard the doors sound shut, you tried getting out of Yunho’s grasp to let him know he didn’t need to do that anymore-

But he only deepened the hug, leaning down this time to hold you better and you sighed at that. He rocked you gently back and forth, all the while caressing your head gently as if he meant to lull you to some calm space- and oh, was he successful. You were no longer crying.

Hesitantly, he broke away a bit to see if you were okay. Your eyes fluttered open, a bit red from crying and he cupped your face, wiping your tears.

“Why did you let them in, y/n?”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured you. “Did they force themselves inside?”

“Not really, but they were insisting on coming inside and waiting,” you sniffed. “Detective Seo- the older one… he knows me from when I was a kid and he started to get a bit too comfortable-”

“I know,” he told you and when you frowned in confusion, he said, “I actually heard a bit of it while I was parking.”

“A bit?”

“Most of it,” he admitted, breaking into a smile. “You did not have to defend my kitchen knives with all your might, y/n.” 

You chuckled at that. “I don’t know, I got so angry! He kept walking around and it was annoying me so much- I thought giving him tea would make him sit, but no, he had to walk around with a cup in his hand-”

Yunho shook with laughter, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re too adorable at times.”

“And… I can’t believe I’m hearing the word adorable come out of your mouth,” you looked at him in disbelief. “Who are you? And where is Dr. Jeong?”

“It’s just Yunho,” he smiled and you smiled back, spending a moment just looking at him and realising that you were still way too close, in his arms, your heart fluttering uncontrollably. 

“Well… just Yunho,” you said, your hands on his waist feeling clammy. “Thank you for coming at the right time. And thank you for… what you did.”

Yunho took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips, looking away. You could not answer that, because even if you lied to him, you would break down anyway. Detective Seo had opened the dam of unwanted, ugly memories and you were definitely not okay. You wouldn’t be for a while now-

But it looked like Yunho had made it his life’s mission to make sure you would feel okay. He brought you back in a hug and this time, you didn’t cry. You simply wrapped your arms around his waist better and listened to the sound of his heartbeat which somehow calmed you. To your surprise, he planted a kiss on the top of your head before he squeezed you in assurance.

You broke away to look at him. “What’s got you so… clingy and fluffy all of a sudden? Not that I don’t like it, but…”

Yunho tucked your hair away from your face, kissing your forehead this time and pretending he hadn’t heard that. It wasn’t the first time he got a closer look at you yet he committed everything to memory as if it was his first time seeing you. He couldn’t answer your question either, because…

He was pretty sure he had fallen for you a little when he heard you earlier. The way you never let the detectives think about him for even a second when you were being cornered with the knives- he was absolutely sure that you had not done that unintentionally. Sure, he had initially thought that if he ever got in trouble with the police, you could make a good cover, but now you had protected him on purpose. He would ask you about that, but first…

“Did you eat dinner?”

“Uh… no. I forgot.”

Yunho shook his head in disappointment. “I go away for one meal and you forget to eat.”

You pouted and he led you to the chair, making you sit. He poured a glass of water for you and after you drank it, he asked if you made something today. You told him you didn’t cook today and he sighed.

“So you only cook for me?”

“I like cooking… and I like cooking for you,” you pouted again, feeling exposed.

“But not cooking for yourself?” Yunho asked, making you look at him. “Why won’t you cook for yourself?”

You shrugged. You didn’t have an answer for that. 

“Well, I’m not a good cook, but I’ll see what I can do…” he got up and you told him he did not have to, that what he did for you tonight was enough, but he told you to shut up and opened the fridge, taking out the kimchi and then looking through the cabinets-

“Ramyeon sounds good? That’s one thing I can cook well,” he grinned.

You nodded, getting comfortable and watching him roll his sleeves before he washed his hands in the sink, drying them with the blue bunny towel and then you stopped noticing what he was doing and instead noticed the veins on his arms, the faded scar near the elbow that probably ran up his upper arm, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck-

And those beautiful, beautiful hands that were now setting the pot on the table. You blinked, coming back to reality, and thanked him for the meal. He watched you eat for a few moments before he said, “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did today. It’s my fault.”

“Yunho,” you sighed, “It’s not.”

“It is,” he shook his head. “The detectives seemed to have created some ambiguous connection between me and their recent murder case. The victim used to be my patient, so they’ve been trying to visit me for a while but I kept putting it off- I really don’t like when they visit my workplace-”

“Of course,” you nodded. “No one would like that. You don’t have to explain it to me, Yunho. You don’t have to tell me anything-”

“Forget the rules,” he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I want to explain because you can’t just put yourself between me and the detectives. How could you try to protect me without knowing what’s going on? And don’t try to deny that you weren’t doing exactly that.”

You took a bite and thought about it while you chewed. Once you swallowed, you answered. “I’ve known Detective Seo for twenty years. I’ve known you for what? Four months? Five? Guess who I trust more out of the two.”

Yunho looked away, somewhat in disbelief but again, overwhelmed by the way his heart was fluttering and his stomach was in knots. “Even when I’ve given you nothing?”

“It’s enough- I don’t need to hear your life story to trust you,” you finished eating the noodles. “I know who you are, and that’s enough.”

Yunho sighed internally- Wooyoung had warned him of this. He had practically manifested it. He had told Yunho that the way he talked about you and the way he treated you were very different and he needed to start manning up and ignoring whatever he was feeling inside. That had been in the earlier months. And now?

You claimed you knew him. What did you know, really? The person who set strict rules and got angry when he thought you broke one of them and made you cry? The doctor who got angry at you for bringing a patient to his clinic and later thanking you because you saved her from something worse? The person who took you to the place he loved yet told you nothing about it? What did you really know-

“I know you,” you began and Yunho wondered if he had said those thoughts out loud. “You’re the person who I thought was an asshole but I trusted because you… you have the kindest eyes. Even when you almost stabbed me to death-”

“That’s on you overthinking-”

“Yeah, I’m joking,” you laughed. “But… you get what I mean. I don’t need to know who you were, I know who you are. The doctor who’s too busy to take care of himself and his space. The person who’s everyone’s favourite at the clinic. The house owner who’s actually quite funny but takes a while to open up. The friend who helps me with my work in so many more ways than he realises. And… the man who is surprisingly protective and caring.”

Yunho buried his face in his hands- he couldn’t look at you now. He couldn’t-

“I don’t know why you keep holding yourself back, but can I ask what prompted you to do whatever you did earlier? You didn’t have to hug me like that,” you drank the rest of the water in the glass, waiting but he didn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to call me ‘your girl’ and shoo them away. You can’t just do things like that and expect me to remain normal and pretend it didn’t happen the next day- because I’ve had enough too. I’ve had enough of you staring at me like I’m either someone you want to kill or someone you want to… do things to. Also, while we’re talking about that- and yes, I’m rambing, but you really need to stop touching me so casually- I hope you have a rule about that somewhere too-”

Yunho finally removed his hands from his face and locked eyes with you. When you didn’t look away, wondering if you were going to regret this, he got up, making your heart sink thinking you really had made an awful mistake this time-

And then he leaned down towards you and to your utter surprise, he pecked your lips gently- once, twice. And then he pulled away to lock eyes with your wide ones. 

“Can I take responsibility then? For my actions?”

When you nodded without realising that you had, he smiled, going around the table and sinking down to his knees. For you. You found your hands moving of their own accord, cupping his face with almost trembling hands for the first time and running a hand through his hair, finding them softer than you had imagined. You laughed in disbelief and knelt down to kiss his forehead- you didn’t have to kneel down much thanks to him being so tall. You joined your foreheads and just let that moment sink in, waiting for him to do something but it was as if he had completely submitted himself to you.

“Yunho,” you breathed, “Won’t you kiss me?”

All Yunho wanted was to obey. He tilted his head, your lips brushing and then he brought his hands to your bare knees, sending shivers through your entire being. While he caressed the skin, he pecked your lips cautiously and you almost cried at how hesitant he was. You took it upon yourself to lock your lips with his and that was all he needed to kiss you back, immediately taking lead and kissing you almost desperately as if he had waited a lifetime for this moment. You moved your lips along his, settling in a comfortable rhythm and you realised you quite liked the position-

But Yunho had other plans. He broke apart, gripping your legs in one arm and getting up, making you latch on to him with a squeal which earned a laugh from him as he settled you on the empty kitchen counter, now able to meet your eyes better. He stared at you intently for a few moments, his arms caging you between them and brought your arms to rest on his shoulders, linking them around his neck.

“I’d say something about how it took you way too long,” you kissed the tip of his nose. “But I’m afraid you’ll think I’ve always fantasised about this and leave me here and go in your cave.”

“Never again,” he promised, capturing your lips in a slow and gentle kiss. You had all the time in the world now and a morbid part of your mind wanted to thank Detective Seo for paying a visit tonight even though you despised him. Yunho swiped his tongue across your lips and you gladly opened up for him, the kiss getting heated as his tongue explored your mouth, clashing with your tongue. You couldn’t help but marvel how you both fit with each other so well. 

You didn’t know how long you made out like that. Neither did you care, but naturally, you both broke apart and shared a giggle. He opened his arms for you and you gladly hugged him- his hugs were probably your most favourite thing about life now. He laughed at how you wrapped yourself around him like a cat so that he didn’t even have to hold you, simply wrap his arms around your back as he walked to the living room but you muttered ‘my room’ and he obeyed, walking in that direction-

And halting.

“What do you want me to do? Throw you in the pool of books and make out? Might hurt a little…”

“Oh, goodness,” you twisted in his arms to see the mess that your room was in right now. “I was sorting out books because I really have no space anymore and I was going to give away some tonight-”

“But you could put them in the living room? The shelves have some space?”

You hadn’t even considered that. You looked at him. “Can I use that space?”

“I mean… you’ve taken over the whole floor anyway,” he shrugged. “What harm a few books are gonna do?”

You smacked his arm and he laughed, putting you down on the floor. “Well, I should clean my mess then. Don’t want you complaining about how unruly your housemate is.”

“I’ll help,” he insisted and you scoffed.

“There’s no space for you to set a foot-”

“Then make some.”

“Oh?” You shot him a dirty look. “No plans to leave?”

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked cockily and you shook your head, immediately shoving a few books away and making space on the rug where he settled down and pulled you down in his lap, snuggling his face in your neck.

“Tell me about these books,” he muttered, his breath caressing your neck and before you could comment on the position, he kissed your neck lazily.

Well… perhaps it was better to shut up and obey.

“They are a part of me,” you smiled, picking the nearest one and reading the title while he continued kissing and sucking at your neck. “This one I read recently. I think you’ll like it- it’s about doctors- ah.”

Yunho smiled against your neck when you squirmed in his grasp. He had been teasing your sweet spot for far too long now and finally got to hear your pretty moan. “Really? What’s it about?”

“Doctors,” you muttered, tilting your neck and he dived back in. “And the problems they face, the power dynamics- Jeong Yunho, I swear to god-”

Yunho laughed deeply against your skin, drawing away to observe the reddening spot. You tried shifting in his grasp but he held you in your position. “Tell me about another book.”

“Yeah?” You scoffed when he started peppering kisses along your shoulders. “What if I just smack you on the head with one?”

“Tsk, tsk. Already?”

You shifted in his lap successfully this time and before you could yell at him, he was kissing you on the lips again and as you melted in his hold, you tossed the book in your hand away to cup his face.

Sorting the books and cleaning the mess could definitely wait.

—-----------------------------

Though you and Yunho had crossed some obvious boundaries now, you were unsure how that would affect the rules of living in his house. You weren’t only his housemate now, so perhaps, the rules could change? 

You started wondering about that after a few days. You hadn’t made anything official yet- he was still working a lot and barely had any time for himself but whenever he got home, he would find you and wrap you in his arms while he asked you about your day. When you asked him the same, he would simply smile and say something like ‘just the usual’ or ‘busy day today’.

Nothing more. He probably recognised the look in your eyes- the look that said that you wanted more. Perhaps he ignored it on purpose. Perhaps, whenever he kissed you after, it was to make up for the lack of an answer.

If you thought about it objectively… you didn’t really mind. Work is work- what could doctors really share about their work? But you knew he wasn’t simply going to work, especially when  he sometimes came home looking like he had been running for miles or with blood on his clothes. Surely, doctors wore a gown or something while operating or handling patients. His lab coat never had blood on it, so why would he have blood on his clothes and why would he sometimes look like he got in a fight? He could definitely feel your apprehension even though you pretended to be okay about it. 

Perhaps, he liked you because you didn’t ask. That didn’t mean you weren’t curious- now more so than ever. It wasn’t like being whatever you were to him now gave you any right to probe, but you couldn’t help pay a visit to his clinic tonight and see if he was really working a night shift- he had gone out in a rush earlier muttering something about an emergency. You only went to make sure he was okay, was what you told yourself-

It was certainly not because of your growing suspicion of what he really did. Nor was it because you wanted to double-check how Detective Seo told you that Yunho’s clinic had separate staff for night shifts and he definitely didn’t need to be present every night. It definitely wasn’t because Yeosang slipped when he accidentally told you Yunho had no shift a few nights ago when Yunho himself had told you he had one. And it definitely was not how you suddenly realised one day while writing your novel that Yunho’s answers to your odd questions were a bit too specific- like when you asked him about being stabbed in a certain location with a certain weapon and he slept on it and had a rather specific answer the next day. His answers were always a bit too detailed.

You would have ignored all of it but you found yourself inside the clinic and learned from the kind lady at the reception who thought it was cute that you came to check on him that Yunho only had one night shift a week. But according to what he told you, he had night shifts five days a week. 

Just what was he doing?

You absently walked home and instead of writing, you just mindlessly cleaned the nooks and crannies in the living room, your mind too numb to think of possibilities. Perhaps, you needed to start defining things with Yunho- beginning with what your relationship was, exactly, and if it was more than housemates you both definitely needed to talk about a few things-

When you heard the door unlock, you looked at the time- it was almost 4 in the morning. You hadn’t realised how quickly time passed. Yunho entered, looking pretty much the same as he did when he left. You managed a smile and he told you he would be right back, rushing upstairs. You went to wash your hands in the meantime, wondering if you should ask him- would he be angry to learn you went out looking for him? Would he appreciate your concern, or would he shut himself away like he has always done-

“Y/n?” Yunho’s voice brought you back to your senses and you realised you had been zoning out in front of the sink, the tap still running water. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” you told him, drying your hands and going towards the kitchen to get yourself water. You needed to get a grip.

“You don’t look okay,” Yunho’s brows were furrowed in concern. “Did something happen while I was away?”

“I promise I’m fine,” you said, though you were sure your smile was still unconvincing- or maybe Yunho was just too good at looking right through you. “How was your night shift? Did you get a lot of patients tonight?”

“It was okay,” Yunho exhaled deeply. “A few. Not too busy.”

You nodded slowly. For a moment, you wondered if he was doing night shifts in a different workplace. Perhaps, he had never lied and you just hadn’t figured out that he had jobs at two different places-

“You’re staring,” Yunho commented, tilting his head in thought. You broke eye contact, scanning his clothes- as neat as when he left for ‘work’. “You didn’t meet Detective Seo, did you?”

“No, why?”

“That’s the only time I’ve seen you look like this. Come on, you’re making me worried,” Yunho took a step closer, tucking your hair behind your ear. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” you laughed, deciding to tackle at least one thing tonight. “You’ll make fun of me or you'll shut yourself in your cave.”

“You need to stop calling it a cave,” Yunho laughed a bit.

“Until I see it, it’s a cave to me,” you shrugged. “Who knows what you do there?”

“You want to see it?” He asked, absently caressing your cheekbone and your eyes widened.

“That… is not what I meant- I’m curious, yes, but I don’t want to invite myself up there.”

“Well,” Yunho put his hands on your shoulders. “It looks horrible right now- it’s messy and if I bring you upstairs, you’ll forget you’re tired and start cleaning the mess. Some other day?”

“Whenever is okay, it’s probably boring and plain,” you said dismissively and he nodded in satisfaction. 

“Then what is really weighing on your mind?”

“Shit, I thought you forgot about it,” you muttered but he wasn’t going to let you go. His grip on your shoulders tightened a fraction. “Look, I’m not trying to be that person and I really, really don’t mind how we are and what we are-”

“Get to the point-”

“What are we?” 

Yunho blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“What are we?” You sighed. “I love what we are. I don’t mind it one bit, but I feel like we’re still housemates and there’s still this wall between us and if that’s how things should be… I can work with that. I just… I wish there wasn’t such ambiguity- stop grinning like an idiot, will you?”

“Well,” Yunho stifled another grin. “What do you think we are?”

“I don’t know,” you pouted. “That’s what I’m asking.”

“I don’t know,” Yunho shrugged, straightening and bringing you closer so you were almost flush against him. “I don’t think we’d be doing this if we were ‘just housemates’.”

“My point exactly,” you muttered. “I’m confused. What rules still apply? Can I interfere in your personal life? Can I ask you more than I should? There’s still so much I don’t know about you and sometimes I feel like you’re miles away, Yunho.”

Yunho’s heart ached- he wanted nothing more than to bare his entire soul in front of you. He had considered that seriously over the past few days. He was pretty sure if anyone in this world would understand his reasons for what he did and still want to be with him, it would be you, but what if he was wrong about you? What if he had signed himself to an inevitable heartbreak? If so, how could he ever recover?

“I’m right here,” Yunho kissed your forehead. “You can ask me anything but can I answer at my pace?”

That was enough. You nodded and he smiled, pecking your lips. “Thank you.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you told him. “And I know you’re curious about a few things too- you can ask me anything and I’ll answer at my own pace. Okay?”

Yunho couldn’t help it- he cupped your face and kissed you, wondering how you were so perfect. How could you trust him like this? He sometimes wondered if he was dreaming- there was no way you were real. And he told you that every day, just like he did now, and just like always, you smacked his arm as you blushed.

“You should tell me something else- I’m kind of tired of hearing that,” you laughed. 

“Nothing else makes you laugh like this,” Yunho kissed you again, lingering. “You know I love it when you laugh.”

You kissed him back, forgetting all your worries and you felt the exhaustion wash away from your bones as he bent down to pick you up so he could kiss you better. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let him take you to the living room- to the couch which was probably your favourite place in this house now, where Yunho and you would spend hours with each other.

As he settled you down on the couch, he broke apart and locked eyes with you. “Well, do you still think we’re just housemates?”

“God, you really got stuck on that one, huh?” You poked his chest. “Okay. You’re what? My boyfriend?”

Yunho’s lips parted and a smile crawled on his lips. “I kind of like the sound of that.”

“Geez, have you never been in a relationship,” you teased and he laughed out loud. 

“Just not like this one, no,” he traced your lips with his thumb. “You’re… different.”

“Bet you told that to everyone before me,” you scoffed and he pecked your lips to shut you up. You smiled into the kiss, your hands wandering down his chest and stopping at his hips, snaking up his shirt on his bare skin which earned a light groan from him. You instinctively squeezed his side-

And he stopped kissing you right then. You wondered if you had done something wrong and when you drew apart, you realised he looked as if he was in pain. You frowned, your hands still there while Yunho stifled another groan and when you pressed on both his sides, he finally exhaled-

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” You whispered, drawing his shirt up without permission and gasping when you saw a big red bruise on his right side as if he had been punched.

“Y/n,” Yunho called in warning but you weren’t having any of it anymore- you pulled his shirt up and if Yunho hadn’t been bracing himself up on either sides of you to keep himself from falling on top of you, he would have stopped you, but now you were staring at his upper body in horror and worry.

You let go of the shirt and it fell down to cover his secrets. You looked at Yunho who couldn’t meet your eyes. “Won’t you let me help you? Won’t you let me take care of you?”

Yunho simply sighed, wondering what to do, what to say. He knew this day would come eventually but he hadn’t imagined it to be like this. He let you gently push him back on the couch and without a word, you went to your room. He slumped down, rubbing his face-

Of all the days, it had to be today. Had to be tonight when he made a mistake and hurt himself. You reappeared out of your room with a medical kit and settled down next to him.

“You’re the doctor, Yunho,” you said and showed him the ointments and medicines in the kit, noticing a number of scars on his body and finally getting a good look at the scar that ran up his arm all the way to the middle of his upper arm. “Tell me how to take care of you.”

Yunho passed you a look, finding the lack of expressions on your face kind of disturbing. Just what were you thinking? He sighed and took out the ointment for the bruise- one he had in his room as well and would have used had he not been distracted by you. You nodded and took the ointment, spreading it along his bruise and gently rubbing it in. Once done, you got up and inspected the rest of his upper body.

“Are you sure that’s the only place you’re hurt?” 

“Yep,” he assured you. “You can relax now.”

You scoffed at that, putting the kit aside and folding your arms as you looked at him. “Look… If you don’t want me to, I won’t ask, but you’re not just a doctor. I’m right about that, aren’t I?”

When he didn’t respond, you understood. You were right, and he probably couldn’t say anything. “Do you trust me, Yunho?”

“Y/n, it’s not about trust-”

“Just tell me- do you trust me?”

He locked eyes with you. “Of course I do. If I didn’t… I would have kicked you out long ago, y/n, and I would have never....”

That seemed to satisfy you and when he found the faintest hint of a smile on your lips, he finally relaxed a bit. “I trust you, but there are things I cannot tell you- not right now.”

“I know,” you nodded. “You can stop lying about your night shifts- just say you’re going somewhere. I won’t ask until you tell me.”

Yunho blinked in surprise- just how long ago had you figured him out?

“Also… I would appreciate it if the next time you get hurt, you let me know instead of surprising me like this.”

“Do you… know something you’re not telling me, y/n?”

You smiled at Yunho. If he wasn’t so genuine with his words and his feelings, you would have demanded answers, but what you had with him was special in its own way. No questions asked wasn’t such a bad rule- because you knew that when he answered your questions, you would have to answer his too.

“Do I? I don’t know,” you shrugged. “But I have a feeling that you and I aren’t so different, Yunho.”

Yunho wished he could tell you who he was- his friends insisted he was not a ‘murderer’ like he would often call himself but a vigilante. A hero to most, an enemy to the others- especially the police who had been on his tail for a while now. How could you possibly be the same as him? He had killed people with his own hands, and though it could be argued that he only killed the worst of criminals, if Hongjoong hadn’t been there the night his parents were killed, he could very well be in prison for attempted murder or worse. 

All these years, as he killed one corrupted individual after another, he was convinced that he was the one who was truly corrupted inside. He was the one who needed to meet the fate that anyone who encountered him did. His friends, especially Hongjoong, were aware that there was a twisted part inside him that took joy in the simple act of killing people- people who stole from others. Stole their loved ones, their life, their hard work. You couldn’t possibly be as bad as him, could you? There was absolutely no way-

“Stop thinking so much,” you whispered, placing your hand on his and he immediately shifted so he was holding your hand, squeezing it as if he needed some assurance. “I just want you to be careful, okay? Whatever you do… stay safe, will you?”

“How can you trust me so blindly?” Yunho asked. 

“I told you, right?” You smiled. “I know who you are- at least to me. That’s enough for me.”

Yunho smiled back, burying his face in the crook of your neck and you wrapped your arm around his bare shoulders, burying your hand in his hair and caressing them gently. You let go of Yunho’s hand only to trace the long scar on his arm, wishing you could ask how he got it but you would wait. You kissed his temple and he sighed, nuzzling against you. 

“I’m afraid…” Yunho confessed in a voice so small you were wondering if you were hearing things. “I’m afraid you’ll run away when you learn who I am.”

Your heart sank at his words. He was just like you. In all your previous relationships, you made people run away from you. You could never give them what you wanted. They would find you too secretive or too accepting. Little did they know that you were only hiding your ugly past and trying your best not to let it interfere with your life. 

“You couldn’t possibly be worse than me,” you told him and that prompted him to lift his head to look at you. “I’m convinced I’m a monster. Could you love a monster, Yunho?”

Yunho took in your blank gaze as you said those words and he realised that perhaps, you were right. Perhaps, you were just like him too, with some twisted part inside you, something that had you convinced that you were a monster. 

And if that was the case… he could love you. He wanted nothing more than to love you and tell you that you made him feel human even at his worst, so he leaned forward to kiss you slowly, letting you know what he felt through the way he held your waist and brought you on top of him, through the way he held you so close to him and sighed when you wrapped your arms around his, through the way he started trailing kisses everywhere on your skin. And when you gave him more, he accepted it. If that was the last time you would ever look at him and not feel horrified, he was going to make sure he made you feel loved so he forgot about all his worries and smiled at you playfully, beyond relieved when you bit your lips in excitement.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Yunho whispered, sucking at your neck- he had a thing for that certain spot, you had realised now.

“We haven’t even begun, though,” you commented and Yunho paused, considering your words. He experimentally snaked his hand up your thigh and when you only kissed his temple in response, he understood.

An invitation.

“Shall we take this to bed, then?”

You nodded, sharing an open-mouthed kiss before he got up and started going towards your room.

If only he knew that your invitation was for the same reasons as his.

—---------------------------

For all your talk about trust, you sure were walking on the fine line that marked trust from betrayal. 

And if things hadn’t turned out the way they had been turning out for the past two weeks, you would have never been here. You scoffed internally as you took another turn into a dark alley, a safe distance behind Yunho so he wouldn’t notice your presence- anything to convince yourself that you were only doing this to make sure he would be safe. To make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself again-

Because you had a gut feeling that something was going to happen tonight, and your gut was never, ever wrong. Your gut had saved (or doomed, it could be argued) you two decades ago. You could trust yourself with that.

Though, again, that was debatable as well. Was it your gut that had you all nervous and hypervigilant or was it the growing suspicions about Yunho?

Because a few days ago, Detective Seo called you and requested that you visit the station. You would have ignored him had he not been so polite for once. Ultimately, the reason you visited him was because you wanted to clear his suspicions of you and get him off your tail- you had finally settled in this town at peace and you couldn’t have the detective ruining that. 

And also, a small part of you wanted to learn more about why he suspected Yunho. 

You discovered during your visit that you were right- your involvement in his investigation of Yunho made him suspicious of you. You learned that the reason he was so intent on having Yunho come to the station and give a proper statement was because a few of his alibis no longer held any validity- he had said something about a night shift when he had none. The detective didn’t like how the doctors and a few of the staff members around him were so uncooperative and secretive. If that wasn’t enough, the detective was still curious about the 12-inch knife in your kitchen. 

He joked about how he or his colleagues didn’t own a 12-inch meat knife at home- apparently a non-professional one was usually 7 to 10 inches long. You told him that it was irrelevant but when he mentioned how his suspect had stopped using kitchen knives a few months ago and switched to a dagger of a unique built, it had you wondering-

The detective didn’t know those knives actually belonged to Yunho, which was why he was also suspecting you now. What if you told him? What if the timing of the change of the murder weapon matched?

You only asked the detective if he really believed you were capable of wielding daggers and he shook his head in denial. You then asked if he really thought the surgeon could be a suspect in his case.

“I can’t tell you what it is, but we have substantial evidence to keep an eye on him, at least. If it’s him, he’s not alone.”

And that’s what got you thinking if you were wrong about who Yunho and his friends were. Especially when only a couple days later you went to visit them at the clinic with some fresh cookies and you got a peek at the register at reception that had a schedule of all doctors and you learned that Yunho had no night shift for the rest of the week-

Only to find him lying about it and hearing the news about the murder of a renowned politician while he was god knows where.

You didn’t ask Yunho why he lied about the night shift because he had agreed not to make up that excuse again. You casually confirmed with Wooyoung if he had really been at the clinic that night and he told you he had, but you weren’t done there. You double-checked with the young girl at reception in the clinic- she was quite a fan of your cookies and now that she knew you and Yunho were close, she willingly confirmed that Yunho had indeed not been at the clinic that night. Neither had any of his friends. 

You wished you could simply confront Yunho and ask but he was still hesitant. And really, you would have let everything be. You would have waited for him, but tonight? 

Tonight he told you he was going to the clinic to meet up with Wooyoung and give him some company during his boring night shift. Pretty believable, but your gut twisted as soon as he stepped out and you knew that you just had to make sure that he was going to the clinic. You covered yourself with a jacket and scarf, grabbed the keys and wore your shoes-

Changing your mind and going to the kitchen to grab a little something before finally stepping out. 

And that’s how you got here, one bus ride and a good walk later, deep in some abandoned part of the town following Yunho through the alleys until he stopped abruptly, making you take a few steps back and hide yourself in a corner. Strangely, Yunho seemed to be inspecting the area. What for, you didn’t know. He looked around and checked if the gate at the end of the alley was really locked. After thorough inspection which made you wonder if he was looking for someone or something, he started walking in your direction, probably to leave. You discreetly slid down and away so he would cross you without looking in your direction, and thankfully, he did. 

You sighed, wondering if tonight had been a waste in which case your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you sleep for a good few days unless you came clean to Yunho. You were just following him back because you were pretty sure you would get lost otherwise when you spotted another man at the opposite end of the street. Instinctively, you hid again and waited for the man to continue along that street and get out of your way-

Except he turned in the street in Yunho’s direction.

You made a face and decided to fall behind the two- surely the man would be on his own way soon, except there was something odd about the way he was walking-

He was walking just like you had been- short, quick and silent steps, a good distance behind Yunho to avoid encountering him. Was he following Yunho too? How did he know Yunho would be here? Had he seen you- did he know you were here? It was too dark to make out who he was.

The two turned to another street and the man kept following him even after the crossroads, confirming your suspicions that Yunho was being followed. Perhaps, Yunho had been waiting for this man when he had been looking around the alley-

A sharp glint near the man’s thigh caught your attention and with a sinking heart, you realised-

The man was wielding a weapon. Something sharp that looked an awful lot like the very knife you had hidden inside your jacket.

You froze for a few moments that you knew would cost you something. There was just too much to consider- the feeling of impending doom, the worry for Yunho’s life, the fight-or-flight response making its way to control your future actions and worst of all, the feeling that you were back where you had been when you were still a child trying to protect your father from a situation just like this.

And as the man’s pace quickened and the distance between him and Yunho got shorter, you let the child that had murdered a grown man to protect a loved one take over. Just like that night, you raised your knife in the air without realising when you actually took it out of your jacket. And just like that time, you found yourself running towards the man- this time, experienced and calculating. You would have to congratulate yourself for being so certain about what you were doing-

“Yunho, watch out!”

Though Yunho recognised your voice immediately, the fear in your voice was unfamiliar and he turned around with dread pooling in his nerves, his eyes widening as he tried to process an unfamiliar face of a man with a weapon aimed at him- way too close- and then your figure, perhaps as unfamiliar this time, running towards the man. Yunho instinctively dodged the attack and before he could react further, you collided with the man, crashing on the floor with grunts.

Every nerve in your body screamed as you both clawed at each other while trying not to hurt yourselves, getting nicked here and there and before the man could actually think and overpower you, you buried the length of your knife between his collarbones, effectively disarming him and the man’s eyes widened as he whimpered in pain-

No.

“Y/n,” Yunho almost cried as he sank down next to you, spotting the horror in your eyes and in that moment, he knew only one thing- that he couldn’t let you burden yourself with having to live with blood on your hands. He inspected the stab on the man’s neck, sucking in his breath when he realised the knife in your hand was from your kitchen- the same damned knife he had spilled blood with. The man coughed blood and your grip on the knife finally loosened as you realised just what you had done. 

While you remained frozen in your spot, Yunho realised that the man was beyond help though with the current position of the knife in his throat, he was going to bleed to death for a long while before he could let go. So Yunho made a decision and gently unwrapped your hands from the knife, squeezing them to make you look at him.

“Y/n? Are you with me?”

His voice felt miles away, drowned by the ringing in your ears and you could only blink. Yunho took a deep, shaky breath. “Do you trust me?”

You didn’t know how long you stared at him but he gently shook your shoulder, making you crawl away from the shivering body of the man. “Y/n, do you trust me?”

This time, you did hear him and you nodded slowly, still in a trance. “Yunho- save him, please-”

Yunho had his answer. He slid the knife out of the spot between his collarbones only to stab him on another spot in his neck not far from the original and you watched in horror as the man groaned once before falling limp. Yunho put a hand over the wounds as if that could possibly stop the bleeding and then he asked you to take off your scarf. You weren’t sure you heard him right but with his free hand he started to unwind the scarf from around your neck. You didn’t make any effort to help him- you simply watched him wrap your scarf around his neck to stop further bleeding-

“He’s dead,” you practically spat out. “Why do you need to stop the bleeding now?”

Yunho didn’t answer. Once his hands were free, he bent down to pick the man and started walking back to the alley, stopping when he realised you weren’t following him. He turned to look at you, eyes void of emotions. “Aren’t you going to come?”

You got up with immense struggle, looking around- why was there no one to help? Why was this abandoned area so empty in the middle of the night? You grabbed the man’s knife and started following Yunho, your hands and legs shaking uncontrollably and each step got harder to take. When you reached the spot Yunho had checked out earlier, he laid the man’s body down and you finally sank to the floor, drawing your knees to your chest and trying to breathe. You could hear him talking into the phone to someone, giving them the address. 

All you knew was that you had killed someone. Again. And this time, your father wasn’t there to protect you and take the blame. This time, you weren’t a child who needed such protection. You were an adult and you had killed-

You felt arms wrap around your figure and you finally let out a shaky sob though your eyes remained dry. Yunho rubbed your back and asked you to breathe with him, drawing away and rubbing your cold hands in his to share some warmth- though his were just as cold. You could only see the blood on your hands, on your clothes-

“Y/n, listen to me carefully,” his deep voice echoed inside you. “You didn’t kill the man, okay?”

“You’re lying,” your teeth were chattering with cold and fear now. “I killed him.”

“No,” Yunho shook his head. “You protected me. I killed him.”

“You can’t do this to me, not you too,” you finally cried. “Not you too. I killed again, and this time, I’ll take responsibility.”

Yunho took a moment to process what you had said as he scanned your figure- everything finally started to make sense though there was still so much he needed answers to. “Listen to me. You didn’t deliver the killing blow. I did. I’m the one who killed him.”

“You and I both know he would have died anyway,” you locked eyes with him and Yunho knew then that it was no use trying to convince you that you weren’t to blame. “You just made it easier for him.”

Yunho didn’t respond to that. He simply kept rubbing your hands as if that could turn back time and make things right. When you heard the sound of footsteps, you got tense and almost panicked but Yunho assured you it was just his friends and everything would be okay soon. You watched Wooyoung and Mingi assess the situation, not reacting much and numbly, you let Wooyoung accompany you to his car. You kept looking for Yunho though and Wooyoung smiled a bit despite the situation, assuring you that he would be right there. 

While on your way, Wooyoung made sure you were warm and made you eat a few bites of chocolate, telling you you would need it. You asked him how he was so calm right now- was it not his first time that something like this happened? 

“Something tells me it’s not your first time either, y/n,” he simply responded and you fell silent after that. 

You shut your eyes and let your mind wander about what was going to happen next. Sure, you felt a sense of security being around Yunho- he had done something you could never have imagined- but there was still a small part of you thinking about how this was the end for you. You were going to go to prison. Perhaps you would meet the same fate as your father. Your mother and brother would certainly be pleased to see you behind bars. You could hear their laughter and the ‘I told you so’ even now-

“Y/n?” Yunho’s gentle voice made you open your eyes. “We’re here.”

You looked at ‘here’ which was another abandoned area with dimly lit streets and a warehouse which Hongjoong was unlocking the doors of. Yunho helped you out of the car- you definitely needed that since your legs were still wobbly. You noticed that not everyone made it back and you asked him where they were.

“They’re taking a detour- they’ll be here in a few minutes.”

You nodded and followed him inside and if the circumstances would have been different, you could have appreciated how well organised the inside of the warehouse was, looking like a home with couches and games and fridge and enough space to do anything and everything. It looked like a hideout and you smiled faintly before sitting on the couch. Hongjoong brought you beer and you gladly accepted, taking a few gulps and letting Wooyoung wrap a blanket around you, letting Yunho clean the blood off your hands and spotting the cuts littering your hands and arms. Now that there was enough light, he could spot the numbness in your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, suddenly breaking out of your trance. “Are you? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” he breathed. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good, I…” you looked at your scarred hands. “I’m… okay.”

“Y/n,” Yunho took your hands in his again and you met his worried eyes. “How did you know? Why did you follow me?”

“I… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” you sighed and he squeezed your hands. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright, but I need to know what happened tonight so I can help you, okay?” Yunho said and you nodded, straightening. 

“I knew you had no night shift today- I saw in the register by chance,” you told him and he nodded. “So when you said you were going, I knew you were lying. I would have let you go, trust me, but… I had a feeling something was about to happen. Or maybe… maybe I was just too suspicious- because Detective Seo said if it was you, you weren’t alone-”

“You met Detective Seo again?” He asked, his tone still gentle but you spotted Seonghwa looking at you apprehensively. “Why?”

“He called me to the station a few days ago because he was suspicious of me- the knives,” you let out a nervous laugh and Yunho nodded, understanding. “He told me his suspect’s murder weapon and method had changed and the timing was just a bit off. He knew it couldn’t be me but we have history so he just needed to make sure.”

“Did you tell him about Yunho- or anything?” Seonghwa asked.

Yunho gently warned Seonghwa but you told him it was okay. “He doesn’t know the knives belong to Yunho and he is just suspecting him because apparently your alibis are invalid now. That’s all he’s got on you, actually.”

They all sighed in relief and you heard the doors open, the rest of them joining you and exchanging drinks. “You’re all oddly calm about all of this.”

“We’re doctors,” Yeosang commented. “We have to be calm at times like this.”

“You’re oddly calm too,” San noticed.

“That’s what I said,” Wooyoung quipped in and Yunho asked you if the boys were overwhelming you but you shook your head no. 

“Can you tell me what happened next? Why did you follow me?”

You took a deep breath. “I said Detective Seo and I have history. When I was little… about two decades ago, I… we lived in a small town, the four of us. My father was in debt and he often had to run away from gangsters and loan sharks. One day, he got cornered by one of the men and he had a gun- he looked like he was about to shoot my dad. My mom was protecting us- me and my brother, but I… I did what I could to protect him. I went to the kitchen, grabbed the first knife I saw and stabbed that man multiple times in the back.”

“Oh, y/n,” Yunho’s voice sounded pained and you heard a chorus of sucked breaths and exhales. Your hands started trembling again and Yunho squeezed them, planting a kiss to your knuckles which just made tears pool in your eyes. 

“I did that to protect him,” your voice was just as shaky as your hands now. “That man died and my father ended up taking all the blame to protect me from the police. Detective Seo was in charge of that case and he always suspected me- especially because my mother and brother started hating me for putting my dad in such a situation. He found all of it odd. So tonight… I had a feeling just like that night- like something bad was about to happen. Or maybe I’m just making up that excuse to cover the fact that I betrayed your trust and followed you to see just what you were up to-”

“No,” Yunho embraced you, planting a kiss on top of your head. “Even if you followed me because you were suspicious, you were right to do so. I shouldn’t have lied about the night shift- anyone would have suspected me after that. It just slipped- it’s my fault.”

“It’s not,” you wiped your eyes, drawing away. “I shouldn’t have followed you-”

“You saved me,” Yunho smiled at you. “Your gut feeling, your suspicions… they were right. If it weren’t for you-”

“But I killed him,” you cried. “You cannot take the blame for it now.”

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “We’ve uh… identified the man. Yunho, you might want to tell her who you really are.”

Yunho nodded, wiping your tears away. “Do you want to stay here? Or do you want to go home?”

“I think I’d like to go home… if that’s alright with you guys,” you said and the boys assured you that it was. Yunho got up and took the car keys from Seonghwa, sharing a few words with him and Wooyoung and Mingi asked you if you needed anything. You told them you were fine but you would like to be in the comfort of your own home right now and they understood.

“If Yunho bothers you too much, you can call us,” Mingi teased. “We’ll take care of him.”

“I think it’s the other way round, but thank you,” you finally laughed. “Can I ask- what will happen to that man? The body…”

“Yunho will let you know- you don’t have to worry about anything,” Wooyoung assured you and when Yunho extended his hand, you took a deep breath and took it.

You were going home, and you were finally going to learn who Yunho was.

—--------------------------

It was surreal to enter your home now, Yunho by your side and the weight of the events from the past few hours hanging over your shoulders. You both went to change first and you found yourself unable to look at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your face and hands. You took a few deep breaths to calm down, as best as you could manage in that moment before leaving and finding the smell of chamomile tea in the living room. Yunho motioned for you to join him on the couch and you passed a tight-lipped smile before obeying. You sipped the tea and waited for Yunho to gather his thoughts.

“When I was in high school,” Yunho finally began and you shifted towards him to watch him. “One night, a serial killer decided my parents were his next victims. He followed my mom home and killed both of them, and I… I wasn’t home- by the time I came home, he was done killing them.”

“Oh, dear,” you held Yunho’s hand. You couldn’t imagine what he must have felt. 

“I saw him leaving,” Yunho sighed deeply. “Hongjoong was with me- he witnessed everything. He tried to stop me from going after the killer but I grabbed a metal rod and went after the man. He had a knife and that’s how I got this scar,” Yunho pointed at his arm. “Hongjoong saved me that night but I lost a part of me that night. A part that was human. I became almost animalistic, trying to find the killer.”

“Did you ever find him then?” You asked.

“I did, but after he died,” Yunho slumped back on the couch. “I couldn’t get my revenge. It wasn’t long after that incident. I lost my mind and was about to become the very killer I hated. Hongjoong saved me yet again- he knew that I wouldn’t stop at anything now. I was getting into a lot of fights and basically ruining my life.”

“How did he save you then?”

“He handed me a dagger and told me to do what I must with it,” Yunho admitted. “I was shocked because usually he was the one hiding anything that could become a weapon from me. But then I realised that I was only trying to protect innocent people like my parents. I would aimlessly walk the streets and help anyone who needed it.”

“That’s… very you,” you smiled and Yunho shook his head.

“I’m not a good person, though,” he said. “Somehow, we found each other, the eight of us. We select targets- corrupt politicians, rapists, offenders… especially the people who are public figures and lead double lives. We send hints to the police so they can do their job but when they don’t… we take the matter into our own hands.” 

“Oh,” you frowned. “The politician a few days ago-”

“Not me,” Yunho shook his head. “Though he was my next target.”

“So you… kill them?”

“We only kill when someone is powerful enough to get away with all their crimes,” Yunho admitted and your heart sank dangerously- hearing it from his own mouth now, it finally started to feel real. 

“Isn’t that… okay?” You wondered. “The police can’t do anything and they would only cause further harm if they are alive.”

“Yes, but…” Yunho tucked your hair behind your ear. “I shouldn’t enjoy it so much, should I? I think I’m twisted like that, y/n. I feel no remorse.”

You looked at him- how could you tell him that you understood? That you were okay with that? He would tell you over and over again that it was wrong, because he knew that too. You knew that too, yet… 

“It’s kind of ironic then, that you all are doctors, right?” You finally said and he coughed, making you laugh a little- more in disbelief than in amusement. “So all your night shifts…?”

“We meet up at the warehouse to plan and work on new cases,” Yunho said.

“And the man that I…”

“We identified him- the boys are digging up further but we’re suspecting he’s the copycat killer.”

“The copycat killer?” You repeated in disbelief. “Copying who- oh.”

Yunho pursed his lips guiltily. “Those kitchen knives… they were murder weapons. Now you know why I got so angry when you used them to cook.”

“Oh, goodness-”

“Don’t worry, I sanitised them,” he said as if that could make things better. “When I stopped using them, someone kept murdering people with similar weapons. And not just carefully selected scum- innocent people. It was why Detective Seo suspected me at first and then let me go easily because it just didn’t match. He probably figured out that someone is copying the real killer.”

You took a deep breath. “I killed… a serial killer?”

“Yes,” Yunho held your hands, making you face him. “Do you know how badly the events of tonight could have turned out?”

“But he was going to kill you,” you said. “He had it all planned- he was waiting for you, Yunho. You could have been seriously hurt tonight- do you realise that?”

“I can’t believe you’re still worried about me,” Yunho almost cried. “Do you have any idea what went through my head when I saw you throwing yourself in the way to protect me… I thought I was going to lose you, y/n. Why did you do that?”

“I can’t lose you,” you simply said. “It felt like I was back to being that kid trying to protect my father. Why did you kill him without knowing who he was? Why did you try to take the blame, Yunho? Do you know how scared I was when you did that?” 

When Yunho didn’t respond, his eyes tearing up, you continued. “I thought it was happening all over again. You would take the blame and I would have to live with the guilt. I’ve lived with guilt for far too long, Yunho. My father… he never made it out of prison. He was never a criminal and I guess the other prisoners found out, and they… they killed him. My mother and brother never forgave me after that. Do you think I could live with something like this again?”

Yunho wiped his eyes. “I understand, y/n, I really do,” he nodded. “But you have to understand that I was scared for you tonight. You shouldn’t have done any of that- the police will find the man’s body with all his crimes soon, but even if he was someone innocent, you shouldn’t have done that-”

“I did that to protect you,” you smiled. “What’s so hard to understand about that? Just like you delivered the killing blow to protect me, yeah? Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you,” Yunho breathed. “And I couldn’t bear to see that broken look in your eyes.”

“But we’re both broken in our own ways,” the tears finally rolled down your cheeks at his confession and he laughed a little, wiping them away as he cupped your face. “Is that why you’ve been so distant? So unapproachable? You thought you were broken and no one could love you?”

When Yunho nodded, you shook your head. “Well, I might be just like you then. And I love you for who you are. I love you for the way you tried to protect me, and I love you for still loving me when I told you who I am.”

Yunho finally relaxed and laughed, bringing you in for a hug and you got in his lap, wrapping your limbs around each other. You hugged him good and tight, telling him that he didn’t have to be so guarded anymore- he could be himself with you. He kissed you and told you that you could stop being so scared as well. You found yourself content in his embrace as you both shared your pasts and concerns, assuring each other that everything would be okay and helping each other process the events of tonight, Yunho treating the various places you got nicked and patching you up. You were still scared and anxious but he was there for you, holding you even as you fell asleep.

There was no place he would rather be anyway.

—----------------------------

“The snake in the suit was cornered now. With a grim realisation, he wondered if he should have listened to the lanky cop on his case that he couldn’t even bother to remember the name of– he probably meant well when he suggested the snake be careful now. What would the snake need to be afraid of? The snake was a predator. It only needed to worry about finding prey. 

However, the predator had become the prey now, defenceless in front of the masked spider who wielded his weapon of justice- a beautifully carved dagger with a golden hilt. For the first time in his life, the snake wished it had been a gun instead so his end would have been quick. However, just like the snake had enjoyed wearing the face of justice to the public while circulating drugs to the desperate, the spider enjoyed wearing no mask when he prosecuted his targets. The spider had one purpose to serve- so why not enjoy it?

The spider leaned into the snake’s ears, holding the tip of his dagger under the snake’s chin as he whispered, “I sent you countless warnings, didn’t I? I told you what fate you would meet if you continued down this road. Prison would have been a playground for you compared to the hell I’m about to show you.”

Any ramblings of mercy went up the spider’s head- he couldn’t hear anything anymore. With a kick to the snake’s stomach, he made him sink to his knees before he swiped the dagger along his cheekbone, producing a spurt of blood. The snake let out a choked whimper and the spider cocked his head, wondering which part of his body to ruin next– hey, y/n… I’m pretty sure it’s not that deep.”

“It’s fiction, Wooyoung,” you simply winked but Wooyoung wasn’t having any of it.

“Yunho, tell me, did you really cock your head and wonder which part of him you’d like to ruin next?”

Yunho only bothered shooting Wooyoung a dirty look in between arguing with San and Jongho about a recent case they had at their clinic- something about how to perform a specific type of stitch that would be seamless. 

“What do you think, Yeosang?” Wooyoung elbowed the man next to him. “Don’t you think she’s overdoing some of it?”

“Well, what do you want me to write? ‘Yunho went and killed the politician who had been circulating drugs all around the province’. Plain and simple like that?”

“I think she writes gore to cope,” Yeosang commented. “I’ve been seeing a pattern and- wait, was I not supposed to point that out?”

You looked at Mingi for help who looked moments away from bursting into laughter. “You might want to switch your psychiatrist, y/n.”

“I think I’m good with you,” you grimaced at Yeosang who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “This one should stick to the kidney stuff instead of treating the mind.”

“You heard her,” Mingi clapped, finally bursting out laughing. “Stick to being a nephrologist.”

“I don’t even know how people can have you as their psychiatrist,” Yeosang narrowed his eyes at Mingi and you shook your head in amusement- this banter wasn’t new. “What do you tell them? This too shall pass?”

Wooyoung snorted at that while Mingi raised his finger at him, trying to come up with a retort but failing and sulk-walking to Yunho, resting his head against his shoulder. You smiled at how Yunho naturally adjusted to have both of them in a comfortable position while continuing arguing with the Chois. 

It had been a couple of months since that fateful night. You were still trying to process most of what happened that night and the boys were always there to help you with that, going above and beyond. While at first you had been apprehensive of them- rightfully so- now they were almost like family to you. You found that all of them were extremely hardworking and ambitious, but also very gentle and kind. Or perhaps, you were receiving special treatment as Yunho often joked. 

Yunho gave you all the time and space you needed to sort your thoughts out while continuing being there for you- you were amazed at how good he was with that balance. He never let you feel overwhelmed or alone. He answered all of your questions about him and he just knew when you wanted to talk about your own feelings. He would ask you what you were afraid to find the answers to and then help you navigate through the tangled web that your thoughts were. When he suggested you go to Mingi for ‘therapy sessions’, you asked him if he genuinely thought you needed therapy and if Mingi was really the right person to go considering his role in what they did.

“I mean… Mingi is sort of my therapist too,” Yunho admitted to your surprise. “One thing about him is that he understands. No matter how sick or twisted you think you may be, he understands and he guides you to your own solution to that. Surprisingly, he’s the one who helped me overcome my rage and trauma of my parents, not Hongjoong.”

That really got you thinking and when you went to your appointment with Mingi in his clinic, he asked you what role you would like him to play- a stranger and just a therapist, or who he really was. You preferred the latter and soon, you found yourself looking forward to going to those sessions. You could now talk about what happened with your father without feeling an immense sense of guilt because even though all this time you knew it was not your fault, you simply hadn’t made peace with that. Mingi also helped you realise that what they did- the ‘vigilante’ stuff- it wasn’t lawful. It might even be wrong and you needed to acknowledge and remember that.

And you did. So when Seonghwa and Hongjoong came to you with an odd proposition, you took your time thinking about it. You spent a few days away from everything, back in your hometown to visit your mother and brother and this time, you could actually talk back to them when they mocked you about going to your father’s grave when, according to them, you were his murderer. That time away helped you sort through the final knots in your mind.

And when Yunho came back home that day to the smell of a freshly cooked meal in his house, he had to take a moment for himself. He spread his arms as soon as he saw you and you crushed him in a hug, giggling like kids. You were back in his arms and that was all that mattered to him. You informing him that you agreed to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s proposition was a bonus.

“She’s a crime-gore fiction writer, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong finally said. “You can’t expect anything less from her. Besides, the details make it look less believable, which means less people will suspect that what she writes is not wholly fictional.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “Good one by the way, Yeosang.”

“Yeah, I was going to say that,” Hongjoong laughed. “I once went to Mingi too. He told me that exact line and that’s when I decided I didn’t really need therapy.”

“Ah, I didn’t know that,” Yeosang laughed. “No wonder he’s sulking so much.”

“He’ll be fine,” Seonghwa chuckled and you didn’t miss the adoration in his eyes as he glanced at Mingi. Seonghwa turned to you, closing your book and placing it on the table in front of him. “I think you did a great job. It’s a very engaging story and the facts are present for the wise ones if they can connect the dots. I quite like it, y/n.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I owe it to you both. You’re really good editors- it’s too bad you both refuse to take credit.”

“It would only raise suspicion,” Hongjoong dismissed. “You’re the writer. We’re only, uh… inspirations?”

“Inspirations,” Wooyoung repeated. “I know exactly who would be pleased to hear that. Our favourite detective.”

“I heard from a source that he spent two hours trying to convince his coworkers that what you were writing wasn’t fiction,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s been quite silent lately.”

“The excitement must have dulled now- it’s been weeks since this book has been out,” you said. “I think he might be starting to take pointers now. He texted me a few days ago asking which politician he should keep an eye out for next.”

“What did you say?” Yeosang asked.

“I told him the next book could be about a detective who refuses to leave a poor girl alone,” you grinned, the group bursting into a chorus of laughter. “He enjoyed that joke, actually. I think he’s warming up to me now.”

“He better not,” Yunho finally joined, putting his hands on your shoulders from behind you. “I don’t want him obsessing about what kitchen tools we use these days. Shall we go home now?”

You nodded, saying goodnight to the boys and exiting the warehouse with Yunho. A bike ride later in the chilly night, you were home and just like always, grinning as you entered- you still loved the bike rides.

“Oh, tomorrow’s Sunday,” you clapped, suddenly remembering. “We get to sleep in. What do you wanna do tonight? Movie?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Yunho pretended to think, a grin creeping up on his face as he tackled you in a back hug and swung you around once, making your laugh echo in the house. “I think I’ll skip.”

“What’s got you so mushy tonight?” You asked- Yunho was swinging you both back and forth, his cheek resting against yours.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I just still can’t get used to the fact that you’re real.”

You chuckled at that- you knew that Yunho absolutely loved the sight of you getting along with his friends, working with them, and actually supporting them. You insisted it was because the world really needed less criminals prowling around and while Yunho agreed, he also knew that part of the reason you agreed in the first place was because of him and he told you that he sometimes couldn’t believe that you could love him despite what he did.

You only told him once that a sick part of you definitely enjoyed killing those men if that meant you got to protect your loved ones. He remembered what you said- that everyone had something ugly like that in them- they just hadn’t been desperate enough to realise it yet. And thanks to you, Yunho was discovering a new side of himself- someone passionate and gentle and human. Sure, he had been that with his friends before, but with you, it was definitely different and new.

“Says the 6 foot tall handsome doctor slash biker slash vigilante. It can’t get hotter than that,” you teased. 

“Bet you moved in because of that.”

“Maybe I did,” you teased. “Wasn’t it the best decision you made, agreeing to let me move in?”

Yunho thought about it for a few moments, humming to himself. “I could think of a few better decisions I’ve made-”

You smacked his arm, getting out of his grasp and muttering you were going to bed first and Yunho laughed loudly at your antics, following you as you walked towards the stairs and when you noticed him, you sped up, giggling when he started running after you. You barely made it to his room when he had you in his arms again and was peppering kisses all over your face.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “The best decision I made was probably letting Detective  Seo rattle you out while I stood outside and listened.”

You gasped loudly. “You did all of that just to have an excuse to kiss me, didn’t you?”

“Who knows?” Yunho shrugged teasingly. “Might not have gotten a better chance.”

“Come on, say it,” you started unbuttoning his shirt. “When exactly did you fall for me?”

“Let’s see…” he thought about it while you took off his shirt and ran your hands across his toned chest, tracing all his scars like you always did. “Could have been when you scolded me about the boots and the water trail and ordered me to use the bunny towel.”

“Sheesh, you’re that easy?”

“Yeah, I’m simple like that,” Yunho muttered before drawing in to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. “It’s the little things you did that made me a mess way before you defended me with all your might.”

“That was the first time you laughed,” you smiled at the memory, turning him around so you could make him sit on his bed. You got in his lap and he squeezed your thighs in appreciation. “I think you had me right there too.”

Yunho shook his head at your confession and you grinned, pushing him to make him lie down. He loved it when you did that and took your time appreciating him, kissing all his scars and massaging his scalp as you drove him a little crazy, rolling your hips on his crotch suggestively once in a while. And he let you take your time because once he took charge, once he flipped you so you were under him and let his hands run all over your body as he kissed every inch of it, and once you were skin to skin-

That’s when you were done for.

[jaeyunbaeun]

when u totally get invested in a story .. but the last update was in 2018 omfg

[jaeyunbaeun]

Too Tempting || 3

[!] *SEQUEL OF MY FIC “TEMPTING”*

Y/N is an angel and a good one at that. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She is out performing her duties when she runs into a demon. Luckily for her, that demon, Taehyung, doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, Taehyung just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

Or, “For someone who is meant to be so pure, you sure are dirty, angel.”

pairing: demon!taehyung x angel!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, angst

word count: 4,624

warnings: hella references to Tempting, graveyard scene, lots of underlying themes of death

A/N: Angels/demons use this is fic are in a supernatural sense. More focus on angels and demons as immortal creatures even though I might reference some “biblical” terms. Oh and this is a dream I had!

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 +

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

CHAPTER THREE 

Grace and I packed our bags and bid Guyi farewell soon after Taehyung’s unexplained disappearance. We were heading back home for the weekend as Halloween was tomorrow on Sunday.

We were 30 minutes into our drive when I finally told Grace about my all night encounter with the infamous Kim Taehyung.

“What?! What the fuck do you mean he spent the night?” She squawked in disbelief, body now fully turned to face me from her spot in the passenger seat.

Grace, incredibly, had failed her driver’s test a whopping four times. She claimed it was due to the fact that every instructor had conspired to fail her, but I experienced Grace’s driving first hand and could confirm she was just that bad of a driver.

I gripped the steering wheel in between my hands, my eyes focused on the road.

“There’s no need to be vulgar, Grace.” I sighed.

Grace scoffed in exasperation, “Oh, spare me the lecture. How the hell did Kim fucking Taehyung end up at our dorm… Y/N did you fuck–”

Lees verder

[jaeyunbaeun]

this night together - chapter fourteen (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter fourteen: what we mean to each other

chapter summary: making amends is hard, moving on is hard, but you have a home now in a way you've never had before. together, you move forward through it all.

warnings/notes: this chapter still deals with the aftermath of the attack, so all previous warnings apply, but i think you'll see we're coming out of it now and into much happier times. this is the start of an absolute fluff fest, and we'll be back to smut in the next chapter. specific warnings for: discussions of physical attack, anxiety, ptsd, consent conversations, past s*xual assault (mentioned in passing), issues with police and the legal system because lbr the cops aren't doing anything good for assault victims, and reader has a triggering moment with her neck but she works through it just fine

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 14.3k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

It’s been days. Days of staying safe behind the walls of their apartment, days of dodging calls from your friends, days of cocooned self preservation. They haven’t left you for a single minute. You spent the weekend trading off who’s lap you were cuddled on and bickering over episodes of Single’s Inferno and you’ve never needed anything more. 

Slowly though, things start to shift. 

You’re showered, for one. And Yunho and Mingi both have settled back into their routines as best they can without leaving the apartment. Video games, mindless scrolling, paging through books and cooking balanced meals instead of another day of takeout. 

On Monday, Seonghwa confirms your worst suspicions by texting you a photo of the formal letter he received via Minseok’s attorney. You expect Yunho and Mingi’s are in the mail. Every time your phone chimes you expect it to be the police or some other official legal summons. Your mind has started to turn over every detail of the event with calculated detail, and your internet history stretches long with research. 

By Tuesday, you’ve caved and finally started answering Wooyoung’s texts with more than just single word responses or emoji confirmations that you’re still alive. The moment you do, he takes the opening and runs with it just like you knew he would. 

As you wait for the hot water for your tea to boil in the kettle, you re-read his most recent text again. 

Do you want to get out of the house for a bit? We can try that new spot by the bookstore?

Your stomach feels tight at the idea of going out and you do your best to tap out a reply that you think sounds casual and relaxed - Maybe next time, let’s just catch up and relax here? 

You watch the message send and deliver and in nearly real-time it flicks over to read. Dots appear as he types. 

Sure - his message reads - I’ll be there in an hour

An hour. You shouldn’t be so nervous to see your best friend, but the idea of opening up your little sanctuary to anyone right now feels a little fraught. The kettle whistles, and you hear feet shuffling against the vinyl flooring as Yunho crosses over into the kitchen and you lock your phone and Wooyoung’s messages away so you can focus. 

“Hey,” You murmur, giving him a smile as you pull the kettle off the heat. 

“Hey,” Yunho smiles back, leaning against the opposite counter, “everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” You tell him, just a little white lie. 

“Is Woo still coming by?” He questions.  

“Yeah,” You nod, setting the kettle on a pad so it doesn’t damage the countertop, “he said around an hour,” 

Yunho nods and then slides a bit closer to you, his hand stroking up and down your back once until he settles it on your hip. “Hey,” he says again, “can we talk?”

A nervous pang strikes in your gut, but he doesn’t look upset, so you take a guess at what he wants, “Is it okay that he’s coming?” 

“Wooyoung?” His brows draw together, “Of course, that’s not what I meant,” 

“Oh,” You turn towards him more fully, leaning against the counter with him, “okay, what’s up?” 

“I want to apologize,” He says, swallowing tightly. 

“Apologize,” You blink. 

He nods. 

“Okay,” You can see how whatever he’s about to say is bothering him, the stress under the surface, but you have no idea what he’s sorry for. 

“Listen,” He reaches and takes your hand, pulling you a little closer to him, “I know you know I’m sorry, but I haven’t said it clearly and you deserve that,” 

“Oh,” You relax further into his space until you can feel your bodies brushing together, the warmth radiating off his skin. 

“The way I reacted at the studio after your last heat was wrong,” He says in a rush of air as he laces your hands together, “and I haven’t gotten the chance to really say that,” 

“It’s okay,” You shake your head, soothing him a little, “you don’t have to,” 

“No,” He insists with a squeeze of your fingers, “I do. That day, I was worried and jealous and confused, but I let my anger get the better of me and that’s not something I normally do.”

You squeeze his fingers back, letting him know you’re listening. 

His eyes flick up from your joined hands to your eyes as he continues, “It’s not something I should have ever put on you or something you should ever see,” 

“People get angry,” You start to say. 

He’s firm when he shakes his head, “People get angry, but I don’t get angry at you. Ever.” 

“Yunho,” 

“I yelled at you,” He squeezes your hands, “I cursed at you,” 

“I did the same thing right back,” You remind him. 

“It’s not the same,” He presses, brushing right past your words, “and I’m apologizing because I’m telling you, y/n, it will never happen again.” 

“You think we’ll never have a fight?” You smile, “That’s optimistic,” 

“This isn’t a joke,” He sighs, “please,” 

“I’m sorry,” You tuck closer to him, unlacing your hands so you can snake your arms around his middle, “and I appreciate you apologizing for that fight, but I was upset you were being possessive and emotional after all the cold shoulder, you yelling wasn’t really high on my list of concerns,” 

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he nods, “I’ll get to that in a second, but will you hear me on this one thing?” 

“I’m listening,” 

“I hate to bring it up again,” He grimaces a little, “but I’ve just spent four days watching you jump at every noise around the apartment and wake up every night fucking terrified,” 

Your eyes shoot down. 

“And before I apologize for all the other ways I’ve been an ass to you,” His warm hands settle on your skin, thumb brushing along your jaw, “of which I know there are many,” 

You smile at that. 

“Yelling at you like that,” He sighs, “talking to you like that has been bothering me for months. I need to apologize for it because I need you to know that you’ll never, ever hear it again. Mingi said his peace, but it’s important to me that you know you’re safe with me in every way. If we’re going to do this, I need you to know you can tell me anything, including telling me off when I make mistakes, and I won’t get angry like that again.” 

“I already know that,” You look up, meeting his firm gaze and reaching for his cheek, “and I hope you understand that I know the difference between how you were angry then and what he did and how he spoke to me.” 

“I just had to say it,” He nods, “I would hate it if anything I ever did made you afraid to be honest with me, or made you feel like you’ve been feeling the past few days, I’d never,” 

“Baby,” You cup his cheeks in both hands, holding his eyes so he hears you fully, “I forgive you, and I am not afraid or uncomfortable with you or with Mingi. Not at all.” 

“Good,” He exhales hard, his eyes a little shiny and you press forward to wrap your arms around him and hug him close, his arms closing around your back. 

“If you’re being idiots,” You kiss his chest through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, “I’ll tell you you’re being idiots,” 

He laughs low, the vibration running through your chest, “Good.” 

“And if I’m being an idiot,” You add, “I’m not going to freak out if you get pissed at me or yell at me,” 

“I appreciate that,” He squeezes your shoulders, “but I don’t want to be the guy that yells, that’s not really an alpha stereotype I’ve ever wanted to fit.” 

“Okay,” You nod against him. 

He clears his throat a little roughly and you’re about to pull away but he holds you steady for a moment, “There’s one more thing,” 

Your hand strokes a line down his back, as you hum softly, “Hmm?” 

“I have more to say and to apologize for,” You can feel his heart beating a little faster under your cheek and you stroke his back again, “but I’m still figuring out how to do that, and it might not be fair of me to ask, but I wanted to see if you can be patient with me for that.” 

“Yunho,” You murmur, “what’s going on?” 

“I, uh,” His fingers flex tightly against your skin, “I started seeing someone,”

“Someone?”

“Professionally,” He adds, “Mingi used to and I know it helped. I didn’t think I needed to, but I think we can both agree I am not the best at managing my own emotions here,” 

“Oh,” 

“So,” He breathes, “after our fight, when I finally cooled off and realized what we did I asked him for a referral. I’ve been meeting with her once a week and it’s been helpful, but I’m not ready to apologize to you for the rest of it until I understand why I treated you like that,” 

Emotion fills your chest like a balloon and you nod into him, “Yunho,” 

He clears his throat again, “Sorry,” he says, “this is a little uncomfortable for me to talk about, but I’m working on it,” 

You wriggle out of his arms to find his face again and press up on your tiptoes to catch his mouth, kissing him with as much surety as you can before you lean back, “That means everything to me,” you tell him, “everything. You have all the time in the world from me, okay?” 

“Yeah,” He smiles, “good, okay,” 

“Is it helping?” 

“Definitely,” He nods, “it’s almost like the professionals know what they’re talking about,” 

You smile up at him. 

“I know I mentioned it before,” He adds quickly, “and I won’t press it, but if you do feel like it would be helpful for you too, you can come to me and I can ask my therapist for some numbers for you to call. I’ll even help set up an appointment if you need that,” 

Your chest goes tight at the thought, “I’ll let you know,” 

“Okay,” He smooths a hand up and down your back, “no pressure,” 

“For sure,” You manage. 

His lip quirks up and he presses a long kiss to your forehead as he gives you one more squeeze, “I said I won’t press, don’t panic,” 

“Sorry,” You breathe. 

He makes a noise dismissing that and then steps back, “So,” his eyes are bright again, everything equalizing back to normal with his smile, “you were making tea, can I help?” 

Your shoulders relax, tension bleeding out of you in an instant, “No,” you turn back to the warm kettle, “but can I make you a cup?” 

“Sure,” He pulls two teacups down from the cupboard, “so Woo will be here in an hour?” 

“Mhm,” You tap your phone to light up the screen to check for any other texts.

“Got it,” He nods, “would you feel alright with Mingi and I stepping out for a while?” 

“Out?” 

“I need to run by the studio and check in on things,” He explains, “and we need to get some food in here. I figured we could do that while Wooyoung keeps you company,” 

“Yeah,” Your heart picks up a little at the thought, but you press that feeling down and drop a teabag in each of your cups, “I’ll be just fine,” 

“Good,” He drops another kiss to your hair, keeping his fingers lingering on your skin while you pour hot water into your cups. 

“Do you,” You almost stop the question, but you find the words bubbling out of your mouth before you can second guess, “do you need to leave right away?” 

Yunho smiles wide, taking the kettle from your hands as he shakes his head, “No,”

Your heart eases a little. 

“Let’s have these together,” He nods to the tea and picks up both cups, “we’ll go when Woo gets here,” 

You follow him out into the living room, and he sets the cups down on the table before settling himself into the corner cushions and reaching up for you. It’s easy to take his hand and to melt into the familiar position on his lap, and you let him draw you in close and cuddle you, his arms wrapped securely around you as he nuzzles your cheek with his nose. 

You sigh, resting your hands on his chest and turning your face a little to catch his mouth in a kiss. 

He hums pleasantly against your mouth, “Is it strange to say that I’ll miss you while we’re out?” 

You smile, shaking your head, “No,” 

“Will you miss us?” He pecks your lips again. 

“More than I want to admit,” 

“You know,” Yunho smooths his hands over your body to rest in their familiar homes, one on your thigh and the other curled around your waist, “I hate what happened, and I wish I could take all the bad memories away, but I’m also so glad you’re here with us,” 

“I know what you mean,” You nod. 

“The months we spent apart were terrible,” He confesses, kissing you softly. 

“We’ll have to make up for lost time,” You agree quietly. 

“A proper date,” He smiles, “or a vacation somewhere warm?” 

“Mm,” You hum, thinking of being stretched out on a beach somewhere with your boys on either side of you, “perfect,”

“I’ll think on that,” He runs a hand down your hair and relaxes back into the couch, “you deserve something nice,” 

Twisting on his lap you reach for both of your teacups before settling back into the same, comfortable position, “I think it would just be nice to come over here without having something traumatic happen beforehand,” 

He frowns a little. 

“I’m kidding,” You nudge him softly, “kind of,” 

“I know,” He nods, “still,” 

“Yeah,” You quietly agree, taking the first sip of your tea. 

Yunho takes a sip too, and then hums a short, quick laugh, “This smells like you,” 

“Like me?” 

“The tea,” He takes another sip and nods, “you smell just the same, but sweeter,” 

“Do you like it?” You find yourself asking. 

Yunho’s head cocks slightly to the side, a line between his brows, and then he says, “Have I not made it clear how much I love your scent?” 

Your cheeks heat and he smiles at the way your skin reddens. 

“Sweetheart,” He shifts, pulling you in while still being careful of the tea, pressing warm, lingering kisses over your jaw to the hollow of your ear, “if I could drink you instead, I would.” 

You swallow, heat curling in your belly. 

“Soothing tea,” He murmurs, “sweet honey,” he adds with a kiss, “and the willow is sharp and fresh. You wake me up and calm me down all at the same time,” 

Your pulse quickens, and slowly your head drops to the side, extending the column of your neck to his lips. 

He takes it slow, remembering the way you jerked back in bed a few nights before, and he’s careful not to press too firmly or give you any inclination that he’s going to touch you with anything but his lips. 

“You smell like home,” He murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your head in his wide palm, kissing just a little lower still. 

Your muscles are stiffening up at the feeling of his mouth getting lower towards your exposed gland and your fingers tighten on his shirt where you hold yourself steady. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispers, “stay with me,” 

You nod, just a little, enough to tell him not to stop, “W-what else?” 

He smiles against your throat, “Well,” he kisses again, to punctuate his words, “when you’re happy, really happy or excited, there’s lemon too,” 

Your breath feels staggered, thready, and you focus on the feeling of him and the warmth of the teacups against your thigh. 

“When you want us,” He takes a deep inhale, sighing hot against your skin, “it’s all honey, thick and syrupy. After your heat I smelled that honey here for weeks,” 

You feel a whine building a little in your throat, and you bite down on your lip to keep it buried. Your body feels like it’s fighting itself with every touch of his mouth, hot arousal knots up at his scent mingling with yours and at his words, but the isolated touch alone has you fighting little flashes of a place that isn’t here and isn’t him. 

“I’ve got you,” He repeats, “I love you,” 

The reply settles on the tip of your tongue, but then he presses one last closed-lipped kiss directly over your gland and withdrawals entirely. You blink hard, a shudder running up your spine. 

“Alright?” He checks, smoothing his hand down your hair again. 

You nod, letting your fingers unknot from his shirt while you collect yourself. 

“Hopefully that answers your question,” He clears his throat softly. 

You start to nod, but the sound of the bathroom door opening cuts through the moment and you start, tea spilling over the lip of your cup onto your fingers. 

“It’s Mingi, baby,” He assures you. 

“I know,” You have to tear your eyes off the hallway though. 

His mouth is set in a concerned little line, and you know he’s probably thinking about your conversation in the kitchen again, but he lets it lie and doesn’t push it, just like he promised. 

Mingi appears a moment later, a towel slung around his hips and his shoulders and hair wet from the shower. He smiles widely when he sees you both, “What’s going on in here?” 

Yunho raises up his cup, “Tea,” he smiles, “nothing much,” 

“Mm,” Mingi nods and stretches, “nice,” 

“Will you be ready soon?” Yunho asks, “Wooyoung will be here in a bit,” 

“Yeah, sure,” He confirms and then glances at you, “you’re good with us going out?” 

“I’m good,” You confirm. 

“I’ll stay if it would make you feel better,” Mingi adds, “I can hide in the bedroom and listen to music or something if you want privacy,” 

You love them both so much in this moment you feel like your chest might crack right open on its own, and you shake your head at him with a smile, “No, I have to get comfortable at some point, it might as well be while Woo is here with me,” 

He nods, “Well, we won’t be too far, just call us and we’ll turn around.” 

“Thank you,” You reach up to take his hand and he twines his fingers with yours immediately. 

Yunho shifts, pressing his lips against your shoulder, “Are you and Woo going out anywhere?” 

He’s clearly trying to be subtle, but you hear the anxious note in his voice and it occurs to you that they might be just as nervous leaving you as you are staying here without them. 

You shake your head, “No, just staying here,” 

“That’s good,” Mingi adds a little too quickly, “if you do go out, would you let us know?” 

“I will,” You promise them, “but you don’t have to worry,” 

“It’s in our nature to worry over you,” Yunho sighs, “but I think we’re both trying not to be overbearing about this whole thing,” 

“Trying,” Mingi shrugs, “but also the idea of not knowing where you are feels like it might give me hives,” 

You laugh at the image, easing back into Yunho’s chest. 

“To be clear,” Yunho shoots Mingi a look, “that’s in a nice ‘we care about you’ way, not in a ‘controlling boyfriend’ kind of way,” 

“Relax,” You tell them both, “I get why you want to know, it’s the same reason I want to know where you are.” 

“Studio first,” Mingi offers without you asking and your chest warms, “then groceries, and then I want to swing by that cafe that has that caramel cheesecake you like, then home,” 

“Don’t say we don’t have to,” Yunho adds, “we want to,” 

You smile as he takes the words right out of your mouth. 

“Plus, I want some,” Mingi says with ease. 

You’re not used to this type of relationship yet, having alphas of your own who actually want to be with you and take care of you, who worry for you and feel for you in all the deep nervous ways you feel for them. You hush the nagging voice in your mind that tries to tell you not to show them how much you need them, the voice that doesn’t want you to jump too fast, you already know what you get by listening to that voice. 

Instead you ask them what you want to ask, “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

“Two hours,” Yunho offers, “maybe three at the most,” 

“Okay,” You exhale, weight dropping away from your shoulders, “that’s perfect,” 

“We’ll let you know,” Mingi adds, “and if you need anything special while we’re out, we can stop,”

You shake your head, “I’m fine,” You assure them, “a little anxious, but you know, it’s good for me.” 

Mingi smiles warmly, brushing his hand over your cheek and tilting your face up with his thumb and forefinger on your chin, “We’re a phone call away,” 

“I know,” You nod. 

Yunho sighs as Mingi’s hand drops away, and he kisses your shoulder again, “It’s funny,” he says, “I really don’t want to leave you,” 

“We did just spend three months not seeing each other and in a state of constant relationship limbo,” You point out and give him a squeeze, “we really went from nothing to a whole lot of something fast,” 

“Not too fast?” Mingi checks, trying to sound casual. 

“No,” You say, “and even if it is, I don’t care,” 

“We’ve always felt right together,” Yunho adds, “we’re just letting ourselves enjoy it now,” 

He’s never said something so true. 

Mingi gets dressed and collapses onto the couch next to both, pushing closer into your space with Yunho until you’re both practically on his lap, but it works. You stay knit close together until there’s a knock on the door and then it’s fast kisses goodbye and big hugs from your best friend, and before you can really process it you’re without them for the first time in days. 

Your stomach is fluttering, a nervous quiver deep in your gut that you really don’t want Wooyoung to over-analyze. A moment later you find yourself back on the couch in the warm spot Yunho left, wrapping yourself in the blanket you had all shared the night before. You can smell them on it, earthy, warm, and sweet. 

Wooyoung watches as you start to relax, and he takes a seat right next to you to keep close, a closed smile on his lips. 

You can’t believe you miss them already. 

They must miss you too though, because Mingi only makes it a scant ten minutes before he texts you, his message lighting up your phone - Forgot to say I love you - I love you.

“What?” Wooyoung nudges you under the blanket. 

You pass your phone to him and he reads the message, his eyebrows shooting up high, “I leave you alone for a few days and you’re all saying ‘I love you’s?” 

You grab the phone back and tuck it away, “That’s the thing about life changing trauma,” you laugh, “it really accelerates the big feelings,” 

Wooyoung nods, keeping things light, but finds your hand on the back of the couch so he can hold it. 

“Also we’re not all saying it,” You confess, “they’re saying it,” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean they’ve told me,” You explain, “the day after the studio we had this big talk,” 

“Don’t tell me they put all that shit on you like that,” He wraps his hand around yours, “y/n,” 

“Not like that,” You shake your head, “it’s actually hysterical, they thought that Seonghwa and I have been dating,” 

His eyes go wide, “What?” 

“It’s truly the longest story of miscommunication,” You tell him, “at this point I think someone should write a book about me and make it a romantic comedy,” 

“Erotica,” Wooyoung smirks. 

“Shut up,” You swat at him. 

“There have been too many good orgasms for a romcom,” He shrugs. 

You roll your eyes, “Anyways, it turns out the whole not talking period while you were all away was just me pining but feeling like I fucked it up, and them pining but thinking I had moved on with Hwa,” 

“Damn,” 

“But when they realized that they were wrong about that,” You continue, “we just got it all out there,” 

“And they love you,” He smiles a little, “and they actually said it,” 

“Yeah,” You soften into the cushions. 

“I hate to ask the obvious,” He squeezes your hand, “but if you’re so happy about that, why haven’t you told them? You do love them?” 

“So much,” The words fly out like you’re defending something, and you run a hand through your hair as you get your real thoughts steady, “I do, Woo, so much. We’re scent matches,” 

“I know,” He nods warmly. 

“You do?” 

“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Wooyoung smiles, “well, apart from you three.” 

“Thanks,” 

He nudges your thigh with his foot under the blanket, “Honestly, though, after what happened I could see it on them. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, and they kept flanking you, watching you like you might disappear,” 

A memory of the studio plays like a clip in your mind, the way they held you between them, the three of you against everything. You nod, “They’ve been doing that for days,” 

“Which…” Wooyoung trails off, trying to guess where your head is, “you’re happy about?” 

“I am,” You nod emphatically, “and I love them, I just… I can’t get the fucking words out of my mouth,” 

He sobers a little, sliding closer to you on the couch so he can draw your legs over his lap and give you exactly the kind of comfort you need, “I’m listening, babe, talk to me,” 

“I don’t know why,” You hold his hand tighter, “but every time they say it, and I think I’m going to say it back, I’m right back in that room with Minseok’s teeth on my neck and I can’t,” your chest feels tight, “I can’t get it out,” 

His eyes soften, empathetic in the way that only he can be, “Does being in love with them scare you?” 

“No!” You pull your hand back from his. 

“Babe,” He takes your hand back and holds tight, “I’m not saying they scare you, I’m saying does being in love, being vulnerable like that scare you?” 

Your shoulders drop, “A little, but,”

“But?” 

“I thought about it for three months,” You argue, “I had it rehearsed, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and the big reveal was supposed to be the ‘I love you’ part not the ‘I’m sorry’ part,” 

“Your plans on that kind of fell apart when that asshole tried to claim you,” Wooyoung pushes back a little. 

“Yeah, no shit,” A flurry of anger bubbles in your belly. 

He nods, “And now you’re off kilter,” 

“You could say that,” 

“You rarely do anything without thinking it through,” He offers, this thumb drawing a comforting line over your palm, “and your plan got fucked, and you’re emotionally vulnerable, and traumatized, and stressed. You feel like you’re out here without a life vest,” 

His words stun you silent. 

“And this thing you worked up in your mind for three months is now totally derailed,” He continues, “am I on the money?” 

You nod. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says. 

You nod again. 

Wooyoung asks this question softly, his voice quiet and gentle, “Do you want to bond with them?” 

Your heart thumps in your chest. 

“It’s just you and me,” Wooyoung soothes you, “and whether or not you bond with them is your choice, okay? But, babe, is that something you think you’ll want?” 

Suddenly you remember the feeling of your heat with them. The way you begged for them, the way it felt so right and so sure that you belonged to each other. You remember how your mind spun imaginary futures that all ended the same way. 

Silently, you nod. 

“Loving them isn’t bonding,” He murmurs, “you can just love them for now at your own pace.” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes, “What if I can never do it? They can barely touch my neck without me falling apart, what if I can never take a real claim?” 

“Oh, babe,” He pulls you towards him, crushing you to his chest, “I wish you called me earlier, you shouldn’t be thinking like this,” 

“It was so terrible,” You confess into his shoulder, “I can’t even tell you, I don’t even know how to explain,” 

“You don’t have to,” He hushes you, a hand stroking up and down your back, “and I don’t know if this is going to help or hurt, but I know right now you feel like there’s no way you’d ever be able to take a claim without it being scary and awful, but someday you might be able to without even thinking of him.”

A few hot tears escape your eyes. 

“And I know I give Yunho and Mingi shit,” He adds, “but you know that both of them would rather die than do something to hurt you or scare you,” 

“And if I can never bond?” You manage. 

“Then I’d say thank god your scent matches are two men who would never, ever push you into a bond you weren’t ready for,” He says, squeezing you tight, “and I think if you asked them, they’d tell you that they’d rather be with you unbonded and happy than bonded and in pain.” 

“You’re right,” You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, “I know you’re right,” 

“They’re not going to try to push you into a bond just because you love each other,” He lets you lean back but he slides his hand back into yours, “especially not now,” 

“I know that,” You sigh, “rationally, I was just,” 

“I’m telling you, I get it,” He eases you, “sometimes you go through something and you think a part of you is wrecked forever, that you’ll never be able to do something again or feel normal again, but you will. I promise,” 

You know the truth of him so suddenly you can’t stop the words, “Woo,” you feel your heart beating faster, “did something happen?” 

“A long, long time ago,” He says softly, “and today’s not the day for that story, but I’m telling you it does get better and it does soften in your memory and someday your alphas are going to touch your neck and you won’t even think about it, it just won’t be there anymore.” 

Grief and relief mingle in your gut at his words, and you want to ask him more, to be there for him like he’s been there for you but you can see it in his face, today isn’t the day for that story. 

You squeeze his hand, “I love you, Woo,” 

“I love you too,” He assures you. 

Silence sits between you for a moment while you turn over his words, and though you can’t imagine the day he’s describing, you still believe him. You have to. You don’t know what happened to him or when, but you’ve never met someone as bright and open and happy as him, and you have to hold onto that truth. 

You look down at your combined hands, “Yunho offered to make an appointment with a therapist for me,” 

“Say yes,” Wooyoung replies without a thought, “I waited years and I wish I hadn’t,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Does he have a contact?” Wooyoung asks, drawing your eyes back up, “I have some options for you if not,” 

“He said he can ask his therapist for a referral,” 

“His therapist?” Wooyoung grins, “I knew I liked him,” 

“You’ve been friends for years,” You nudge him. 

“Liked him for you,” He corrects, “that’s different,” 

“Yeah, yeah,” 

“My best friend deserves an alpha who is fully therapized and capable of complex emotions,” Wooyoung says with confidence, “nothing less.” 

“Don’t mention that I told you,” You add quickly, “he told me that in confidence, it just slipped out,” 

“I wouldn’t,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “that’s private. But between you and me, I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Me too,” You sigh. 

“And as far as you going?” Wooyoung circles back to the real question at hand, “Say yes, the sooner the better. If Yunho’s offering to help set it up, let him. Making that call is hard, and if he can make it easier, just say yes.” 

“Okay,” You sigh, your shoulders dropping. 

“And tell them how you’re feeling about bonding,” He adds, “trust me.” 

“Maybe,” You say, “I know you’re right. We’re just moving so fast,” 

“So slow down,” He offers. 

“I don’t know if I want to,” You admit, warmth and nervous energy filling your chest, “it feels right like this, I just don’t know if I can handle a claim,” 

“Tell them,” He reiterates, “don’t let them stumble into that one, they might hurt you without even knowing it if they bring it up sooner than you’re ready for.” 

“Right,” You nod, “you’re right,” 

He huffs a laugh, “Usually am,”

You flick his arm, rolling your eyes, so grateful at him for helping you work through something this hard while still keeping you smiling. You should have called him earlier, he’s right about that too. 

You let silence stretch around you both for a moment, and then something occurs to you. 

“Do you know anything about the charges Minseok is filing?” You run a hand through your hair, “Not to bring up yet another pleasant subject,” 

Wooyoung snorts a little air through his nose and shrugs, “I probably know what you know, have you talked to Hwa?” 

You shake your head. 

“At all?” He seems surprised. 

“I have,” You correct, “but it was quick and we were all on the call. I haven’t been to my place to see if there’s any mail, but I’d guess Yunho and Mingi will get a summons soon.” 

Wooyoung nods, “That’s what the police said,” 

Your eyebrows raise, “You talked to the police?” 

“Seonghwa did,” He clarifies, “and he gave San and I the run down.” 

“Why is no one telling me what’s going on?” You exhale heavily. 

“Because last we heard you were having nightmares,” Wooyoung rests a hand on your folded legs, “and we don’t have a lot of information to give, and I don’t think any of us want to cause you more stress than you need.” 

“Do Yunho and Mingi know?” You press. 

“Not exactly,” Wooyoung says, “though, I guess Seonghwa might be telling them now if they stopped by the studio,” 

You wait for him to continue, but you’re a little relieved at least that your boys aren’t keeping anything from you directly. 

“Seonghwa spoke to the police who explained the charges. Minseok is alleging that the guys misunderstood what they saw and ignored his attempts to explain, and that they used unnecessary force intervening on your behalf.” He says it plainly. 

“Misunderstood?” You repeat the word. 

“I know,” Wooyoung nods, “we all know, but that’s what he’s saying. The police advised Seonghwa to get an attorney and let him know that further charges were being filed. I think we can safely assume that’s Yunho and Mingi, maybe San if he’s really going after it.” 

“Maybe me too,” You add. 

“Maybe,” He nods, “but that would be tough to prove I think,” 

“Hmm,” Your eyes feel a little unfocused. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung gets your attention with a squeeze, “we don’t know anything yet, and we thought this might happen. It doesn’t change the truth and it doesn’t mean any of them regret what they did to make sure you were safe, okay?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Tell me you understand,” He presses, “because I’m not letting you put this one on yourself,” 

“I do, I understand,” You nod, “it just sucks,”

“That’s fair,” He gives you a soft smile, “but it’s going to take a lot more than this to fuck us over,” 

“Yeah,” You murmur, “you’re probably right.” 

Wooyoung says something else but you hardly hear it, in the back of your mind all you can think of is that first night at the hospital. The detectives who interviewed you were kind, but bordered on dismissive, and you know Minseok and his family have deeper pockets than you do. You have to figure this out, you have to.

  “Babe?” Wooyoung nudges you. 

“Yeah,” You snap up, coming back to the present moment and letting those anxieties fade into the background until you can really think them through, “sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” He soothes you. 

Your phone buzzes on your lap again and you pull it up to see the message. It’s Mingi again - Budae Jjigae for dinner, ask Wooyoung if he wants to stay? We’ll have plenty

It’s like he felt your anxiety from miles away and you can feel the tense knot of your shoulders unlocking. You send back a quick heart emoji and then look back up to your friend, “You want to stay for dinner?” 

He smiles, “Who’s cooking?” 

“Mingi,” You tell him, “he’s been on a comfort food kick for me,” 

Wooyoung smiles, “I’ll stay,” 

“Great,” You tap out a reply to Mingi letting him know and take a big sigh. 

“They make you happy,” Wooyoung says, “it’s nice to see,” 

“It’s nice to feel,” You tell him, “after all this time, and after everything,” 

“You deserve it,” He murmurs. 

You smile, a little tease at the corner of your mouth when you nudge him, “So do you, and speaking of,” 

His face lights up fast, “I wasn’t trying to bring my too-good mood over here if things weren’t going well,” he sighs, “but now that I know you’re all in love,” 

“So you and Yeosang?” You turn the conversation to something so much happier, and feel lighter the second you do. 

“It’s so good,” He gushes, head falling back against the cushions, “he’s kind of quiet, kind of hard to get to know at first, but y/n, he’s so funny,” 

“Yeah?” You smile. 

“And smart,” He adds, “and considerate, he’s always getting me coffees or refilling my water, just like, those little things,” 

“Wow, look at you,” You squeeze his hand, “serial dater of alphas, turned into a blushy mess over a funny, smart, considerate beta,” 

“He’s packing like an alpha, I’ll say that,” Wooyoung grins wolfishly. 

You smack his chest, “Woo! Literally that is too much information,” 

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “I share a locker room with your boyfriends, I know what you’re working with,” 

You feel your face flush red. 

“Cute,” He teases. 

“So,” You divert, “does Yeosang feel as strongly?” 

His smile drops a little, “I mean,” he says, “I think so? But he’s not really an oversharer,” 

“Have you told anyone else?” You try to be casual about that question, but if you’re being honest you’re dying to know where things will land with San and Seonghwa. 

Wooyoung shakes his head though, “Not yet, but I think when everything calms down I might have him pick me up at the studio or something? I want you to meet him and I want everyone to know, I just,” 

“I get it,” You assure him, “you go at your own pace.” 

“Yeah,” He sighs. 

“Just don’t follow my lead,” You smile, “if you like him, don’t run away in a panic,” 

“Noted,” He laughs. 

He looks so happy, bright from the inside in a way that matches his sunny scent, and you think he’s not far from sharing ‘I love you’s of his own at this rate. 

You squeeze his hand again and catch his attention back, “You really look so happy,” you tell him. 

“I am,” He sighs, “he’s exactly what I needed,” 

You smile, and then push his legs to the side, “Move over, I know you have pictures, you’re holding out,” 

He laughs sharply, head falling back but letting you manhandle him a little so you can snuggle into his side. Wooyoung tugs the blanket around you both and pulls out his phone, “Fine,” 

“Like it’s a burden to show your best friend pictures of your hot new boyfriend,” You smack his chest, “come on,” 

Wooyoung drops his arm around your shoulders until you’re slotted together on the corner of the couch, but he still hasn’t lit up his phone. You’re about to nudge him again, but then you feel him press a soft kiss to your hair. 

“You know,” He says softly, “when Sannie called me and told me what happened, I just felt so sick,” 

You find his other hand under the covers and lace your fingers together, “I’m okay,” 

He nods, sighing into your skin, “I just want you to know,” he says, his voice a little tight, “you mean so much to me, and I’ll be grateful to them forever for stopping him,” 

You blink back a few tears and nod, “I am okay, though,” 

He nods again and clears his throat, “I know,” 

“I think you’re avoiding my questions about Yeosang,” You squeeze his hand tightly, an acknowledgement of his emotions and his words, while steering the conversation back to happier topics. 

“You’re right,” He laughs, “you caught me.” 

“Come on,” You nudge him again, pushing down the little swell of emotion that his words brought up. 

“He’s not really a selfie guy,” Wooyoung slides his finger across his phone screen until he finds Instagram and then navigates to his new man’s page, “but, I don’t know, I think you’ll like his vibe.” 

Your face cracks into a wide smile when you see the profile, clearly that of an artist, a photographer. The first post on his page is of Wooyoung, though you’d have to know Wooyoung well to know it. He’s walking away from camera through a dark Itaewon street, the lines of his body accented by the neon club signs. 

“Oh, Woo,” You relax against him and open that photo to see it larger, “he really likes you,” 

He snatches the phone away, a little pink in his cheeks as he rushes to downplay the truth of what you can see plain as day, and you fight to get back the phone, your cheeks starting to hurt from how much you’ve been laughing. 

You and Wooyoung stay like this for ages, warmly locked together as you swap stories and funny things on both your phones. By the time your phone chimes with another text from Mingi, at least two hours have gone by.

Almost home! His message reads. 

Your chest feels warm, your heart whole at the words. 

“They’ll be back in a minute,” You tell Wooyoung as you set your phone aside. 

“Perfect,” He grins, “so exactly how much teasing can I get away with before you get mad?” 

You fall apart again into laughter, happy tears stinging at your eyes. You don’t hear the front door open at first, but when you finally look up you see them standing frozen in the doorway with such softness in their expressions. You feel the words bubble up at the sight of them, but again they stay resting at the tip of your tongue.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and pushes off the couch, “Alright, alright stop making heart eyes at each other and tell me what’s in the box,” 

Your eyes flick down to the large white box in Mingi’s hand, the perfect cheesecake nestled inside waiting just for you. Wooyoung takes a few grocery bags out of their hands and heads off to the kitchen, and just like that your night falls together naturally. 

You don’t think about Minseok again until later that night. For a beautiful, blissful four hours you just laughed and ate and relaxed with your best friend and your boyfriends, and he doesn’t enter your brain at all. 

It isn’t until you’re lying in bed alone with your thoughts, Yunho and Mingi deep asleep on either side of you, that you realize what you have to do. 

In the morning you wake from a dreamless sleep, and you start to put your plan in motion. You slip out of bed and leave them to their rest, light only just stretching its way through the Seoul skies outside. Seeing Wooyoung made you feel lighter in a way that you can’t explain, and within minutes you’re scrawling out a note, stealing Mingi’s key, and lacing up your sneakers. 

Out for a walk, be back in a little while, don’t worry too much x

You leave it on their kitchen counter and you hope it’s enough to keep them from looking for you. You need a little space from your own scared reflection in the mirror, and a new perspective on the plan you’ve been turning over since your head hit the pillows last night. 

The note isn’t a lie, strictly speaking, you are out for a walk, but you also know if you told them exactly where you were on a walk to, they'd worry. They wouldn’t just worry, they would have insisted on coming with you, but this is something you have to do alone. 

You take the long way to the hospital down the river path, letting the cool day calm your mind and keep you centered. You go over in your mind all the things you want to say to him when you see him, assuming you actually make it into his room. You wonder how hard it will be to convince him. You wonder if you’ll even be able to get a single word out of your mouth. 

You have to try. 

Yunho’s words from yesterday morning in the kitchen sink into you. The tenderness in his eyes when he mentioned how jumpy you’ve been around the apartment. You hadn’t even realized it, but now you feel it in your shoulders and your stomach with the sound of every opening door, every squeak of a shoe on vinyl flooring. Everytime you look up into a mirror you expect to see a face over your shoulder, to feel hands on your hips.  

Minseok had taken so many little things from you in the span of three minutes. 

You need to take something back. 

Every step leading into the hospital is heart pounding and nerve wracking, stress inducing on a level you’ve never experienced, but standing in front of reception you suddenly feel an overwhelming calm. Your mind is clear, operating on something wholly unconscious and you don’t know where you’ve mustered this feeling from, but you let it take you. 

You give over Minseok’s full name and provide the kindest smile you can to the woman behind the desk,“I’m his sister,” you tell her. The lie rolls right off your tongue, so clean and easy you surprise yourself. 

“Oh,” The nurse nods, “well visiting hours don’t start until eleven,” 

“I have work,” You counter, softening your face, “I’m sorry, but do you think you could make an exception? I’ll be very quick, I just want to see him for a few minutes before I have to run,” 

She considers it, and you know you have her the minute she checks the nurse’s station to see who else is there with her before she breaks a rule, “Alright, but just be quick, five minutes,” 

“Thank you so much,” You smile, “really, you’re so kind,” 

She waves you off, glancing around her again, “He’s in 305, the third door down on your left when I open the doors,” 

“Thank you,” 

She presses a button on the wall and the lock springs free, opening the heavy security door to your side. With one last smile and deeply grateful bow, you slip through the door and make it through into the hospital hallway where you are most definitely not supposed to be. 

Third door on the left. 

You have to be quick, not so you don’t get caught, but so you don’t chicken out. If you stand in this hallway and let yourself really think about what you’re doing, you’ll turn right around and go home. Steeling yourself, you rush forwards and find the door to 305 and with a deep breath you slip inside. 

Private rooms are expensive, that thought occurs to you as you shut the door tightly behind you. That fact, plus the reality that he’s already talking about pressing his own charges, tells you Seonghwa was right, he has some kind of family money. You hope that when you turn around and actually face the room you won’t have to contend with his mother or father or god forbid some girlfriend you know nothing about. You need him to be alone. 

Blissfully, the room is quiet, the only sounds are medical and simple. With your palms flat against the door you take a deep breath, and if Minseok is awake he says nothing, makes no sound, while you gather the nerve to do this. 

Finally, you turn. 

He is awake, studying you with a careful expression, but then your eyes flick over him. He’s more than injured, he’s completely incapacitated. You catalog it all quickly - his leg suspended in an elevating sling, ankle wrapped up tight, wrist sprained and in a brace, his face is bruised and battered and you realize in seconds that his broken jaw is wired shut. He has an oxygen cannula tucked into his bandaged nose, and you remember that his ribs are broken too. 

You wonder which of your boys delivered each piece of punishment. 

Your mouth feels dry, and your pulse is quickening, the sight of him so close is enough to induce panic but he can’t really do anything to you in this state so you have to just be brave. You push yourself off the wall and walk to the end of his hospital bed, “Hey,” 

He gestures to his jaw and shrugs to communicate that he can’t really talk. 

“I know,” You nod, “I heard.” 

It’s strange to be here with him like this when last week you were working side by side. It’s bizarre to suddenly feel this bubble of uncomfortable space and distance, and to feel the fear underneath it all. 

He gestures towards you with his bandaged hand and you know he’s asking why you’re here. 

“I heard about the counter charges,” You came here with a purpose and you have to stick to it, “and I came here to ask you to drop them.” 

He shakes his head and looks down at himself and then back up to you. 

“After what you did?” Anger curls up in your belly, “I think they took it pretty easy on you.” 

He huffs, a puff of air from his closed lips. 

“Listen,” You try, “you and I both know what you tried to do, and whatever your excuse is, it doesn’t matter. If they hadn’t gotten you off me… I guess what I’m saying is do the right thing now. You said you were sorry, just drop these charges and we can all move on.” 

His eyes harden and he shakes his head. 

You thought he was apologetic after, coming to his senses and realizing in the haze of his rut he almost broke someone’s mind, but now you’re starting to think he was just pleading for his own beating to stop. 

“You won’t consider it?” You ask, stomach clenching tightly. 

He shakes his head again and points to his injuries. Jaw, ribs, leg. 

You want to hit him yourself, so suddenly that your fingers curl tight into fists, “You tried to fucking claim me because I wouldn’t go out on a date with you, and you think you’re the victim here?” 

He seems irritated by your question, and he reaches for something on the tray table to his side. He pulls up a small whiteboard and marker, clearly given to him by hospital staff to communicate, and he wipes away the words that were there to write out his message to you. 

I’m the one in a hospital bed.

“You bastard,” The words just slip out, “why do you think? They put you here for a fucking reason, Minseok,” 

He wipes the message away and writes something else. 

Keep your alphas on a leash.

You’ve never understood the phrase ‘seeing red’ before, but now it’s meaning is crystal clear, “You should keep yourself on a leash.” 

He huffs. 

“Using tone to submit an omega is illegal, Minseok,” You round the corner of the bed, “the prison time for something like that is long. It’s not even just assault, I think that’s something like three or four years? But using tone… claiming against an omega’s will? That’s irreparable damage. I wonder how many charges they’d stack on top in court? Psychological trauma? Sexual assault?” 

His eyes darken and he wipes the board again, his marker squeaking roughly against it as he angrily writes out the next message. 

I never touched you like that.

“You would have,” You shake your head, “as soon as I was your nice obedient omega and couldn’t say no.” 

He stares daggers, but says nothing. 

“They might be able to prove intent,” You tell him, “throw a few more years on top for good measure. How old do you think you’ll be when they let you out? Do you think a dance studio would hire a forty year old man?” 

His face pales, he looks sick suddenly. 

“You’ll drop the charges,” You tell him, “and when you do, I’ll drop mine.” 

His eyes widen. 

“You’ll never set foot in the studio again, and you’ll go find another job somewhere else.” 

His eyes skim over you, trying to gauge your honesty. 

“Do you understand me?” You don’t know what’s possessing you, what’s holding you up so you can get these words out, but you’ve never felt more sure. 

He says nothing. 

You lean in closer, close enough that if he was uninjured he could easily have you back in control, but with his jaw wired shut and his lack of mobility, he can’t do a thing. Nerves flutter up your body as you lean in, and you’re sure he can smell Yunho and Mingi on you, but the guarantee that he can’t touch you is filling you with a sick sense of power, of sure joy. 

“You tried and you failed,” You tell him, and he huffs, “and that’s on you.”

His cheek twitches and you’re sure he’d be clenching his jaw if he could do it without exceptional pain. 

“You’ll do this for me, you owe me,” You hold his gaze despite the flutter of fear it brings you, “and if you don’t, I don’t care what it takes. I’ll see you in court and if that doesn’t work, I’ll make sure that you never, ever get hired again. Every studio in Korea will know what you did, and every omega in Seoul will know what you really are, and if you ever get close to me again after today I’ll break your jaw myself.” 

His eyes flick down. 

“Do you understand me?” You repeat, enunciating clearly. 

He nods once. 

“Good,” You push back from him and get some distance, “get the charges against all of them dropped by tomorrow and I’ll call and withdraw mine. Don’t ever come back to the studio, if you left stuff there consider it gone.” 

He holds your gaze, and then he writes out a question - How do I know you’ll keep your word? 

“You don’t,” You shrug, “but I promise you I wouldn’t be here in this room with you at all if I wasn’t willing to drop them.” 

He turns your words over. 

“Minseok,” You sigh, “they mean more to me than watching you go to jail, please, just do the right thing.” 

He wipes his hand again across the whiteboard and then he shifts, looking back up to you to nod in agreement. 

“You’ll do it?” 

He nods again and then picks the marker back up to write something. 

“Don’t,” You stop him, “there’s nothing you can say I want to hear. Just do this and we’ll be done.” 

He looks away and without meeting your eyes again, he nods.

“Don’t make me come back,” You press him, but he doesn’t respond and that will have to be enough. You’ve done what you came to do. 

You’re out of his room in a flash, back through the security doors and quick past the front desk. You don’t spare a single glance at the nurse who broke the rules for you, you just need to get out of here before you let the reality of what you’ve done hit you sideways. You don’t let a single thing consume you until you’re out of the hospital and on the street again, and you sink down onto the first available bench. 

Your heart is pounding, hands trembling. You need to get this under control before you go home because the last thing you want is to cause Yunho and Mingi anymore stress or heartache. You give yourself some time to come back into your body, to forget the hard set of Minseok’s eyes and the way his fingers twitched when you got too close, the way you fought the curling panic in your gut to get the words out. 

When you do feel whole again, you order a taxi back. You’ve been gone a while, probably a little longer than they expected, and you hope they’re not worried.

Using Mingi’s borrowed key, you slip into the apartment and let their scents wash over you, soothing you instantly. You shut the door quietly behind you and toe off your shoes before calling out, “Is anyone home?” 

You hear movement immediately, Mingi from the kitchen and Yunho from his bedroom and it fills you with warmth. 

“Hey,” Mingi gets to the living room first, “how was your walk?” 

“Really good,” You tell him, and that’s the truth. The walk itself was nice until you cut it short with your little errand. 

“You look good,” He smiles, and Yunho appears from his side of the apartment as Mingi continues, “fresher,” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “it’s a beautiful morning out,” 

“Hey,” Yunho says, smiling at the sight of you. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” You say, “I just wanted to clear my head a bit, so I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed your key,” 

Mingi shakes his head as you hang his keyring up by the door. 

“We’ll have to get one made for you,” Yunho says, “if you want,” 

You let the implication of that lie and you nod, but excitement sparks in your belly.

“Is there any coffee?” You ask, moving into the apartment and heading towards the kitchen. You need to tell them where you’ve been, but you just need a breath before you can. 

“Mhm,” Mingi says, “I just made a cup,” 

“Oh,” You shake your head, “I don’t want to take yours, I’ll make my own.” 

“No, no,” He slides behind you and presses a kiss to your hair as he does, “take it, I’ll make another. Yunho, do you want one?” 

“I’m good,” He replies, coming to stand next to you at the small kitchen island. 

Mingi looks like he’s thinking about something as he finishes off your cup of coffee and throws an electric kettle back on to make another pourover, but Yunho draws your attention away. 

“Jagi,” He starts, “I don’t mean to… well, can we talk to you about something?” 

“Sure,” You angle towards him, his words making you a little nervous, “is everything okay?” 

“Absolutely,” He assures you, brushing his hand down the length of your arm, “but Mingi and I were talking while you were gone, about how to handle everything with these charges,” 

“Oh,” His timing is impeccable. 

“We just want to include you,” He says, squeezing your hand, “and make sure we’re handling things the way we should, but it might be smart to try and hire a lawyer before this goes any further,” 

You’re not sure how you’re supposed to say this. 

“We talked to Seonghwa and he agrees,” Yunho continues, “this will be the easiest way to protect all of us,”

“Yunho,” You start, “hang on,”

“If this is upsetting we can talk about it later,” Yunho adds, “but Seonghwa has some connections through his parents, he wants to make some calls.” 

Your stomach twists at the idea of Seonghwa needing to lean on a favor from his parents, and every choice you made that morning becomes perfectly validated with just that thought. You would never, ever let him do that, not after everything he’s done for you.  

“It’s not upsetting,” You assure Yunho, trying to interject, “I just don’t think that will be necessary,” 

“Getting a lawyer?” He clarifies. 

“Yeah,” You swallow hard and glance at Mingi, “I don’t think we’ll need to.” 

“I mean, having representation would be best,” Yunho says, “I know it’s stressful, but we need to be careful,” 

“Right,” You sigh, needing him to give you a breath to explain, “that’s if there’s a suit,” 

“Well sure, but,” Yunho starts but the penny drops for Mingi. 

“Tell me you didn’t,” Mingi turns to you fully and the words die on Yunho’s lips as he plays catch up. 

You stay quiet, holding his gaze, but when you let out a soft breath he sets his coffee back down. 

“y/n,” Mingi says, voice serious and leaving Yunho visibly more and more confused, “tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” 

“I took care of it,” You settle on the most neutral words you can. 

“No,” He shakes his head, “you can’t just say that, you have to give us more than that.” 

“I was planning on it,” You push past Yunho to approach Mingi, resting your hands on his upper arms as you get closer into his space, “I swear, you just guessed it too fast,” 

“You smell like the hospital,” He explains, his nose crinkled up. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Yunho finally catches up, “why were you at the hospital?”

You just have to say it, “I talked to Minseok,” 

“Absolutely not,” Yunho pushes around the island and closer to you, “are you insane?” 

“He’s completely incapacitated,” You tell them both, “he couldn’t have touched me even if he wanted to,” 

“Yes, but you didn’t know that!” Yunho presses, his voice running high in surprise, but you can see he’s doing his best to keep level and cool. 

“Look at me,” You settle him, “do I look hurt? Upset?”

“No,” He admits with a puff of dejected air. 

“Am I myself?” You take both their hands in yours. 

“Yes,” Mingi admits. 

“Okay,” You sigh, “now stop freaking out and listen to me, because I promise you I’m perfectly fine,” 

Mingi nods once, and Yunho stays silent, which is enough for you to do what you need to do. 

“I went there to talk him out of the charges he’s filing,” You explain, “and I guess… I just wanted to understand what he did, so I wanted to talk to him.” 

“And?” Yunho prompts. 

“He’s an asshole,” You start. 

“Did he touch you?” Mingi asks, his voice a little tight and thready, “Say anything to you?” 

“No,” You promise, tugging him closer until his hands are properly on you, “come here,” 

“You can tell us if he did,” Yunho’s fingertips stroke a gentle pattern over the back of your neck, “we’re not angry, we just want to help,” 

“Speak for yourself, I still want to kill him,” Mingi says sharply. 

“Hey,” Yunho nudges him, “chill,” 

“Both of you relax,” You interject and they fall silent, “he didn’t do anything, he couldn’t even talk, his jaw is fully wired shut,” 

Yunho huffs a laugh, “Good,” 

You smile, “Honestly, he looked pretty pathetic,” 

“He is pretty pathetic,” Mingi points out. 

“Right,” You sigh, “well, aside from some choice words written out on a whiteboard, he didn’t have much to say or do. I explained that if he didn’t drop his charges things would be much worse for him in the long run… and he saw reason.” 

“He agreed to that?” Mingi’s eyes go wide. 

“Mhm,” 

“Why?” Yunho’s brows draw together, “Not out of the goodness of his heart, I assume,” 

“No,” You shake your head, “but when I tell you, I need you both to promise me you won’t be angry.” 

“That’s unfair,” Yunho says. 

“Just say it,” Mingi nods, “we won’t know until we know.” 

You chew the inside of your lip as you search for the right way to say this, and you know they’ll be upset no matter what, but they deserve honesty. You nod, “I agreed to drop my charges if he drops his,” 

They’re silent, deathly silent. 

“y/n,” Yunho swallows tightly as he gets his voice even, “why would you do that?” 

“He didn’t want to listen to me at first,” You explain, “and I thought it through on the walk. That’s the only piece of leverage we have right now,” 

“But he did something wrong, he should be held accountable,” Mingi exclaims, taking a full step away from you and running a hand through his hair. 

“You heard the questions the police asked me,” You interject, “how close was I to my next heat? Did I know Minseok was in pre-rut? Why did I stay in the room if he was making me uncomfortable? What was I wearing?” 

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Yunho insists, “he used tone, that’s fucking illegal,” 

“I said he used tone,” You counter quietly, “but he’ll say he didn’t and he’ll say I got confused or misunderstood. He’ll use our relationship against you both, and my relationship with Seonghwa to paint… a very particular kind of picture about me. We all know what he did but I’m telling you, legally? We’re on the losing side,” 

“But,” Mingi shakes his head, “that’s…” 

“I know,” You nod, “believe me, I know.” 

“You should have taken us with you,” Yunho says quietly, “we could have talked to him for you,” 

You shake your head, “No,” you need them to understand, “you got to hit him… you got to do something, I didn’t get to do anything but be fucking scared,”

His expression softens, “Oh,” 

“You protected me when I needed you,” You feel tears welling up now at the thought of it, “it’s my turn to protect you,” 

They’re so quiet, watching you carefully. 

“Nothing is taking you away from me again,” You say it, plain and clear, “nothing is taking away you or my friends, I won’t let that happen,” 

Mingi’s arms fold around you fast as he tucks you into his chest and you feel Yunho step close too, laying a warm palm on your back as he leans into you both. 

“Whatever you want, we’ll do it,” Mingi murmurs, “okay?” 

You nod, closing your eyes as you snuggle into the warmth of him. 

“And we’ll handle it together,” Yunho says, “but don’t make this decision for us, make it for you. We,” Yunho’s voice trails, but then he clears his throat and says what he wants to say anyways, “we love you. No matter what happens,” 

“I know,” You sigh, snaking an arm out of Mingi’s hold to find Yunho’s hand and tuck him a little closer too, “but I’m sure,” 

“I hate to state the obvious here,” Mingi pulls back from you so he can look at you both, “but if he’s not charged with anything, then he’s a free man.” 

That thought does make your stomach flip, but you knew that when you walked into the hospital room, “I know,” 

“It’s your choice,” Mingi reiterates, “but I still don’t know if I’m comfortable taking that kind of risk with you.” 

“I don’t even want to think about that,” Yunho says, his hands finding your shoulders as he tucks closer behind you. 

The image of Minseok’s face when you asked about his dance career flickers through your mind and you smile, “I think he got the picture,” 

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is hesitant. 

“I told him in no uncertain terms,” You can’t get the smile off your face now, “that if he came anywhere near me again I’d break his jaw myself.” 

“You didn’t,” Yunho looks down to see your face. 

“I did,” You nod, “and before you freak out again, please remember that I’m here and totally fine in front of you,” 

Mingi gives you a truly withering look but lets you speak. 

“Honestly,” You breathe, “you should have seen him, he was lying there and could barely move, and when he didn’t want to drop the charges at first, I kind of got in his face,” 

Yunho’s hands tighten on your shoulders and Mingi scrubs a hand over his face, “Don’t tell me that,” 

“But I did,” You press your palms flat against Mingi’s chest, “I told him that if he didn’t drop his charges he would never get rid of me, I told him I’d make his life hell, and he couldn’t even move. He couldn’t touch me,” 

Mingi’s quiet, his eyes flicking up to Yunho behind you. Yunho sighs, dropping his forehead to rest against your hair and then his arms relax, wrapping around you from behind. 

“I really hate this story,” Yunho says, “but I’m also really proud of you,” 

“Me too,” Mingi’s hand closes over both of yours to give you a squeeze. 

“I just wish you had told us,” Yunho admits. 

“If I had told you I was going there you would have never let me go alone,” You point out. 

“Exactly,” Yunho’s arms tighten. 

You turn your head to press your lips to his arm where it wraps around your shoulder, and you nuzzle a little into his warm skin, “You know why I had to go though, right? You get it?” 

He nods against your head. 

Mingi smooths his hand up and down your forearm, “We do,” 

“I just hate the thought of him seeing you again,” Yunho admits, lifting his head and readjusting you in his arms, “or being close to you at all,” 

“I know,” You lean back into his embrace, “but this is the thing, he got to see me be fine after what he did,” 

“And you got to see him,” Mingi puts two and two together with ease and nods, “and he looked pathetic?” 

“More than that,” You smile, “he looked… afraid.” 

“Good,” Mingi says firmly. 

You remember the way he looked in that hospital bed, his eyes darting around the room. He shrank back when you got close, no doubt the scent of Yunho and Mingi lingering on your skin, and you smile up at them at the thought, “He was terrified my alphas were with me,”

Yunho’s lips quirk and he leans around you to meet your eyes, “He wasn’t afraid of us, sweetheart, he was afraid of you.” 

“No,” You laugh that off, but they don’t join in and Mingi makes a funny expression at your words. 

Yunho slides away, shoulder to shoulder with Mingi now as he looks down at you, “Yes, y/n,” he shakes his head, “he was vulnerable and alone and stuck in a hospital bed, and you’re…” 

“A powerful fucking omega,” Mingi supplies. 

Yunho nods, “And he knows that you could ruin the rest of his life.” 

You don’t know what to say. 

“y/n,” Mingi sighs, tugging you in until your bodies are close together, “if you ever do something that reckless again, I’ll lose my mind,”

You move to lift your head and push back, to keep trying to get him to understand why this was so important for you to do alone and why you made the choices you made, but he stops you short. 

“But,” He adds, kissing the top of your head, “it was also very brave, and I love you for it.” 

“Yeah?” You nudge him. 

“Yeah,” He admits. 

“I do wish I could have seen it,” Yunho grins, “that asshole scared of you,” 

Mingi’s hands slide to your hips, tightening their grip and he swallows hard, “Our fierce little omega,” 

A ripple of something needy and unexpected passes through your belly, “Is that what I am?” 

Yunho steps closer, finding a home for his hands on your body too, “You called us your alphas,” he says softly, “isn’t that what we are?” 

Mingi’s thumbs brush a warm steady pattern into your hips and you feel yourself melting into their hands, “Yes,” 

“That makes you our omega, sweetheart,” Yunho eyes flick from yours to your lips. 

The way they say omega to you doesn’t sound cold. It doesn’t sound cruel or commanding, no undertone of ownership despite the content of their words. When they say it all you hear is love. 

“Say that again,” You murmur softly. 

Mingi smiles, lifting his eyes to watch you.  

Yunho dips closer, his lips dangerously close, “Our omega?” 

You nod a little, heat flushing your cheeks. 

“Our omega,” He repeats, pressing his lips to yours. He waits to make sure you want it, he waits to feel you twist in their arms and reach up for him, and then he lets his body follow his thoughts, lips opening and his tongue dipping into your mouth. 

Mingi’s hand shifts, spreading wide over your lower belly, his fingertips at the waistband of your pants. You’re not ready for that, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you twitched in his hands when he first adjusted his grip, but either way he makes no move to take anything further. Neither of them do. Despite Yunho’s lips on yours, and the breath between you both, his hands stay put on your back and your cheek while Mingi just holds you, patient and soft at your side. 

When your lips break from Yunho, settling back down your heels after pushing up on tiptoe, Mingi uses his grip on you to spin you to face him, his mouth finding yours with ease. 

You hum pleasantly against his mouth, your hands gripping his broad shoulders for balance. 

“Ours,” Mingi murmurs between kisses, and then his hands spread to your backside, maneuvering you up into his arms in one quick motion, “you’re ours,” 

You wrap your legs around his middle and sink into the kiss, “I’m yours,” 

“Fuck, I missed you,” He mumbles between kisses, nuzzling your cheek with his nose. 

You nod against him, stealing one more kiss before you lean back, still perched comfortably with your legs around his waist. You smooth a hand over Mingi’s cheek and then reach for your other lover to bring him close, drawing him in by the hand until he’s nestled against both of your sides. Yunho’s hand reaches around to cup under your thigh and you settle your own hand on the back of Yunho’s neck, fingers stroking the shaggy bottom of his dark hair.

“This is nice,” Mingi smiles a little, eyes flicking between you and Yunho. 

Yunho nods, his free hand settling on Mingi’s back. 

“I can’t believe I convinced myself that we weren’t scent sympathetic,” You sigh a small, unfunny laugh, “this just feels so right,” 

“Knowing it and knowing it are two different things,” Mingi says, emphasizing the word. 

“I guess so,” 

“And it’s not like all scent matches work out,” Yunho adds, “we still have to work at it,” 

You nod, relaxing into their hold, “I want that,” 

“We do too,” Mingi squeezes your thigh a little with his wide hand. 

It’s funny how different it all feels now than months ago during your first panicked heat here, how settled you are with everything. You glance between them and ask the obvious, “When we go back to work, what are we this time?” 

“Pack,” Mingi says easily and your head snaps to his, eyebrows high. 

“Mingi,” You blink at him, surprised at his easy reference to such a permanent state of being. Scent matches and compatibility is one thing, but pack is something so much more. All of it flickers in your mind - claims, bonds, tying you together permanently. 

“Someday,” Yunho interjects smoothly, giving you a soft, reassuring kiss to the head, “far in the future, if you’ll have us.” 

“Someday,” The word slips out of you like an agreement, and despite all the fears shared with Wooyoung earlier, you do want them like that. You want to someday be able to give each other that.  

“Then we’re pack,” Mingi lights up at your words, “officially, unofficially, I don’t care. You’re with us, we’re with you.” 

Your body fills with warmth, but you can feel your heart rate picking up. 

Yunho smiles, “What did they used to call that back in the day?” 

“Courting,” You fill in the blank for him, and the word feels strangely old fashioned considering the fact that you’ve already spent a heat with them. When packs were more common, groups of alphas would court compatible omegas until it was sure they were a good match in more ways than just scent. The implication then was something more akin to a modern engagement and you can’t believe after everything you’ve been through with these two men, this is the conversation you’re having suddenly so casually in their kitchen. 

“Well,” Yunho laughs, “we don’t have to call it that,” 

“We’re,” You trail off, trying to find the words, “dating?” 

“Partners?” Yunho offers a slightly less casual word. 

“Together,” Mingi cuts in, “that’s what we are. We’re your alphas, we belong to you, and you,” he draws you closer in his arms to press a soft kiss on your lips, “are our omega.” 

“And at work?” You trail off. 

“We’ll be ourselves,” Yunho suggests, “people probably already know after last week anyways,” 

Mingi nods, dipping forward and pressing a kiss to your lips, “No more pretending we don’t mean something to each other,” 

“No more pretending,” You shift in his arms, wrapping your arms properly around his shoulders so that you’re hugging each other tightly. 

Mingi hums appreciatively, his breath warm against your hair and then he chuckles a little as he readjusts you in his arms, “Is it too fast if I start calling you yeobo, though? I feel like it suits you,” 

You pull back from the hug, “We’re not married, Mingi,” you remind him, “and I didn’t hear a proposal,” 

“You want to get proposed to, baby?” He teases and you shove his chest. 

“Knock it off,” Yunho smacks the back of Mingi’s head, “our relationship doesn’t have to break the sound barrier,” 

“I’m kidding,” Mingi squeezes you, shifting to take a few steps and deposit you on the kitchen counter before stepping back with a quick peck on your lips. 

“Hmm,” Yunho rolls his eyes and slumps back against the counter next to you, one wide hand smoothing over your thigh, “we just got you back, I’d like to avoid scaring you off,” 

“I’m not scared,” You shake your head, and as you say it, you realize it’s true. Six months ago you would have balked at Mingi’s veiled promise of his intentions, you would have told them all their hormones were mixed up and confused. You would have told yourself the same. It feels strange to feel completely at peace with the idea of a real someday with them. 

Yunho’s eyebrow quirks up in a question at your words and Mingi grins, a little self satisfied. 

“Actually,” You exhale heavily and straighten up, “I talked to Wooyoung yesterday and he helped me figure some things out,” 

“Things?” Mingi asks. 

“Um,” Your pounds in your chest, “yeah,” 

Yunho gives you an encouraging squeeze to keep going. 

You meet his eyes and take the leap, “Can you make that call? For me to talk with someone?” 

He softens and nods, “I’ll do it first thing,” 

“Okay,” You say, taking another deep breath, “then there’s one more thing to tell you,” 

Mingi doesn’t say anything, but he steps back closer to you, resting his hand on your opposite thigh. 

“It’s my turn to ask you to be patient,” You give them both an anxious, close lipped smile. 

“We’re listening,” Mingi soothes you. 

“Okay,” You take both their hands in yours, “here goes. The idea of bonding with you both is kind of sending me into a tailspin right now, and I’m terrified that it’s something I’m never going to get over. Wooyoung told me to talk to someone to work through that and I want to. I thought about it all day, and the truth is that I want to be with you both for as long as you’ll have me. You feel like you’re mine, now more than ever, and I’m scared, but I’m also scared of not trying,” 

“And if I can be yours like this for now,” You continue, “without bonds like you said, pack even if it’s unofficial, then maybe I can work through this and make it official someday. I’m just scared your definition of ‘far in the future’ and my definition are different though, and I,” 

“Fuck bonds,” Mingi interrupts, moving to cup both your cheeks and draw your eyes to his, “that shit doesn’t matter to me at all. We’re together by choice, not by claim. If you want my bite someday, I’ll give it to you, but you won’t ever hear me ask, alright? Never.” 

“Me too,” Yunho’s hand brushes down your hair, coming to rest on the back of your neck, “as far as I’m concerned it’s secondary, I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’d sooner leave you than push you into a bond you aren’t ready for,” 

You jolt forwards, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and nearly slipping off the counter when you do, but they hold you steady as you pull them in. 

“We just want you,” Mingi’s rough, low voice murmurs, “just this.” 

You feel their warmth, the steady thrum of each of their heartbeats, their scents curling around you like a safe, easy memory. The words find themselves right on the tip of your tongue again, only this time, this time they come. 

“I love you,” You take in a sharp, emotional breath as you get yourself together, overwhelmed by their words, “I love you both so much,” 

Yunho dips back to find your mouth, locking his lips on yours and sighing a breath of true relief against your mouth, “I love you too, sweetheart,”

Mingi redirects your gaze with his fingers on your jaw the moment Yunho starts to lean back and he kisses you hard, leaving you gripping his shirt for balance, “I love you,”

“God,” You smile, every part of your body alight with joy, “I think we might be crazy, but I don’t care,” 

“Good,” Yunho glances between you both, “because I think I’m having a crazy idea,” 

“What idea?” 

“Move in,” He blurts out, and he can’t stop smiling, “fuck giving you a key, fuck calling you our girlfriend. Move in properly, be ours. If we’re together, let’s be together, we’ve lost enough time,” 

“Who’s moving fast now?” Mingi says, but he’s smiling too. 

Everything in your body feels right, feels safe. You’ve been calling this home for days, and you’ve been calling them yours in your head for so much longer. 

You’re nodding before your mouth can catch up with your brain, “Okay, okay, yes, let’s do it,” 

Yunho pulls you up into his arms and holds you close, peppering kisses across your temple, “We’ll figure everything else out later, but at least we’ll be together,” 

“Thank God,” You melt into his embrace, meeting Mingi’s eyes over Yunho’s shoulder, “because I really didn’t want to leave,” 

“No leaving this time,” Mingi smiles softly as Yunho nods his head against yours. 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head, agreeing with his words. 

“We’ll get everything from your place as soon as we can, make it official,” Mingi adds. 

You nod, and then a thought occurs to you, “Is there even enough room for me here?” 

Yunho unwraps himself from around you and nods, “We’ll need a bigger bed,”

“For a start,” Mingi nods, “and you need a nest,” 

“Yeah?” Your very own nest, a real one. 

“Oh, babe,” Mingi finds your hand, tugging you in, “you’re about to get fucking spoiled, anything you want, we’ll figure it out.” 

“You don’t have to, I just want to be here,” You tell them. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Yunho says, “we’ve waited for you for so long,” 

“Too long,” Mingi wraps his arms around you both, “way too long,” 

It doesn’t matter anymore what pushed you into their arms, what kind of day you’ve had, everything you’ve had to get through. Not a thing in the world matters but this choice, the safe home of their arms, three of you against the world like it was always meant to be. 

[jaeyunbaeun]

Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x fem!reader

Genre: romance, smut, angst, exes to lovers, Christmas!AU, fake dating

Warnings: she/her pronouns, Drug use, alcohol, mentions of aging family members, unhealthy family dynamics, mentions of illness (reader is a doctor), cursing, dry-humping/grinding, kissing, oral (f. receiving), masturbation, unprotected sex, angst, poor self-esteem/self-doubt, pining, some threats of bodily harm

Length: ~24k

Note: God this was such a doozy. I started it on December 1st and barely finished it this morning. Based on Happy Place by Emily Henry (if you like romcoms I highly recommend all her books) and most cheesy Christmas movies (Exmas). Did I project my middle child syndrome onto fellow middle child Wooyoung? Maybe! BUT why write if not to explore your own trauma lmao

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy or don’t! Merry Christmas! MWAH!

This blog is intended for 18+ only! MDNI or you'll be blocked!

June 27th

“So I have some news. I know it hasn’t been easy for us going back—”

“I think we should break up.”

“and forth so much but—What?” 

“I don’t think it's working out between us.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to say before your vocal cords seize.

Your mouth falls open, lips attempting to form words that don’t manage to make a sound. Eyes shifting around the room, the sheen of tears thickening as a few beads trail down your cheeks as you stand shakily; managing only a few steps away from the table before a choked sob wiggles free from an iron grip. People are staring as you nearly run out to the door, unaware that several whip around to look at the man left sitting behind you.

Wooyoung doesn’t chase you down. Doesn’t call or text as you walk the twenty blocks to Lisa’s apartment in the thick humidity of the city night; snot and tears trailing down your face.

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything at all as eight years shatter to pieces in a matter of seconds.

December 7th

Wooyoung

…twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

Wooyoung staples the finished packets together, ears tickled by jazzy Christmas music leaking from his computer speakers in the corner of his L-shaped desk. Surrounded by colorful brick walls of a midtown elementary school isn’t where most people his age would find themselves on a Friday evening but where else would he go?

His roommates have their partners over, he’d rather avoid the frigid dampness of the park he usually smokes at, and Wooyoung isn’t interested in the crowds clogging anywhere else he’d think to visit. The usual comforting bustle of the city only serves to set him on edge, making him desperate for a true solitude he really craves. Getting ahead on his classroom prep for the remainder of the semester seemed like the perfect, albeit a depressing way, to spend the evening.

The dulcet tones of Dean Martin are joined by an incoming call buzzing his phone across the wooden top of the desk. A familiar picture of his mom and him as a baby flashing across the screen before he answers.

“Hi sweetie,” his mom yells on the other line. Wooyoung can tell she’s driving home from work based on the poor audio quality.

“Hey mom,” he wedges the device between his shoulder and cheek, using his hands to continue organizing the worksheets for Monday; paper warm in his palms from the printer.

“I’m just calling to make sure you and Y/N are still coming for Christmas. I know the hospital is usually crazy this time of year so I thought I’d double check.”

“Actually mom—”

“Bibi keeps talking about wanting everyone home for Christmas but if Y/N can’t make it she’ll understand. She’s always been her favorite.” His mom laughs.

Wooyoung’s grandmother is impolitely frank about her age and never hesitates to use it to her own advantage. How does he tell her that his girlfriend, who she liked more than her own grandsons some days, is no longer his girlfriend? And how he is the only one to be blamed for that.

He might as well start digging his own grave.

“We’ll be there.” Wooyoung blabs before he can stop himself.

“Wonderful! I’m pulling into the driveway so I’ll talk to you later. Love you!”

“Love you too.”

Fortunately, on a cold winter night like tonight, the only other soul in the building is Mr. Rollins, a janitor with headphones permanently attached to his ears. The colorful combination of expletives pouring from Wooyoung’s mouth would make a sailor blush.

Typing in a familiar name to his message bar, Wooyoung realizes he hasn’t changed it in all this time; the string of emojis from the first night he got her number glaring back at him in mockery. A sting of bile blisters the back of Wooyoung’s throat as he steads himself for what he’s about to do. Who he is about to ask for the biggest mercy; one he didn’t deserve in the slightest.

Wooyoung: Can I call you?

Wooyoung inhales before hitting “send,” locking his phone and tossing it down like it’s possessed.

Barely a full minute passes before it vibrates with her response.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: are you okay?

He can’t even type a reply before the buzz buzz buzz on an incoming call tickles against his palm. 

Tapping into the false chipper personality he reserves for strangers and his class, Wooyoung answers with a simple. “Hey!” 

“Hi.” She deadpans.

“Is it a bad time?”

“What do you want, Woo?”

“How have you been?”

“I’m fine. But you aren’t calling to ask me that.”

Wooyoung wants to object but she’s right. “I’m not but I still care.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so my mom called and asked if you were coming over for Christmas.”

“Why?” Y/N asks after a pregnant pause.

“Because I haven’t told them we broke up.”

A rush of clattering sounds from her end along with a few curse words sounding far away before she continues. “Are you fucking kidding me? It’s been six months!”

“I know! But I’ve been busy and there was never a good time and it’s just kinda snowballed.”

“Well, tell her now.”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Bibi keeps talking about how she wants everyone how for one last Christmas and with Kyungmin going to colle—”

“Please tell me you’re not suggesting what I think you are.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

“I thought us breaking up meant I didn’t have to deal with your shit anymore.”

“I can tell them your busy and the hospital is keeping you or—”

“No,” Wooyoung can picture the hand scrubbing down her face, fingers massaging her temples the same way she always did when his shenanigans got them in trouble. “I’ll do it.”

Now he’s the one to pause, “Really?”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to see them all one last time.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I actually need to get back to doing that so–”

“Yeah, I’ll, ugh, talk to you later. Bye.”

“Bye.”

As the line clicks and Wooyoung is left alone in his classroom, the space abruptly feels too big. With each minute ticking by, he convinces himself he hallucinated the entire exchange because there is no possible way his ex-girlfriend agreed to this ill-thought plan. Everything feels too normal for her to extend such undue kindness his way, especially after how he ruined their relationship in a moment of insecurity.

Wooyoung: My flight out is 12/21

Wooyoung: You don’t have to come that early 

Y/N🥰🍯💖: im off starting the 19th

Wooyoung: I’ll pay for your flight

Y/N🥰🍯💖: great

Y/N🥰🍯💖: ill venmo you

Wooyoung: Cool, send me the details

There’s a weight on Wooyoung’s tongue at the new dynamic settling between them. Eight years of dating but now she’s a stranger. The last text messages arranging for their mutual friend Lisa to pick up a box of her stuff from his apartment. 

Six months and he didn’t know if she kept her hair the same way or what new book she was obsessing over in her sparse free time; if her neighbor in Boston’s yappy geriatric dog finally kicked the bucket.

Lovers. Almost fiancées. And now strangers.

December 10th

Wooyoung

Wooyoung wakes up to the early morning bustle of the busy streets just outside his window. His phone clock reads thirty minutes past his normal alarm which means he’s late. And that means his boss is going to tear his ass a new one. 

In a whirl, Wooyoung rushes to the bathroom. He wets his hands with the freezing tap water, patting his face and attempting to style his bed ridden hair. The door shifts to catch his foot as he exits, stubbing his toe and forcing him to hop down the hallway to his room. Wrinkled khakis and a sweater are all Wooyoung manages before he throws on his parka and is out the door. 

He sprints to the subway, just in time to see the doors closing on his train.

“Fuck me!”

“Too young for me buddy,” croaks the homeless man splayed on the bench in the middle of the platform.

Ignoring him, Wooyoug paces further down the station, anger filling him with restless energy. Glancing at his phone, he shoots an email to his principal that he’ll be late due to “train delays.” Thank god for the MTA being a regular piece of shit. 

Finally checking the stream of missed notifications during the night, he uses the lull to answer them.

Mom: Does y/n still like those chips we bought last time? I’m at the store getting a few things

Wooyoung: She said she’s happy with whatever you get!

Not a lie since Y/N would be happy to have snacks of any kind.

SANNIE⛰️: YOU DIDN’T TELL YOUR PARENTS? 

SANNIE⛰️: U R SO FUCKED

At least he can always count on San to state the obvious.

Y/N🥰🍯💖: here’s my ticket 

Wooyoung does a double take when he sees she’s flying out of New York, not Boston. Why isn’t she flying out of Boston? There’s no way it’s cheaper than flying out of Boston and she wouldn’t go through the trouble of getting down here unless she had a good reason.

Wooyoung: Why are you flying out of LGA?

Y/N🥰🍯💖: Because I live here?

A lump of lead hardens in his stomach. She lives here, in New York. She’s been in the city and he didn’t even notice. Questions race forward. How long has she been here? Where is she working? What neighborhood is she in? Why didn’t he know she moved back?

The last question is more his own fault than he cares to admit.

His train arrives without preamble, brakes screeching as it slows to a stop. Wooyoung crowds into the compartment, happy for it to be relatively empty. Finding a spot on the wall, he zones out of the chaos for the next twenty minutes. A group of highschoolers laugh obnoxiously in the corner, snatching one another’s phones as they share god knows what between them. A young mom tries to placate her crying baby, the older man next to her rolling his eyes as he devours his morning paper. When the doors open at his stop, Wooyoung pauses for a second as an elderly woman enters the train. Catching her eye, he offers her his seat; only standing when she’s close enough so no one else tries to take it from her. 

Wooyoung slithers out of the closing doors and bolts out of the station as fast as he can.

Panting and sweating under his black parka, Wooyoung arrives outside the red doors of the elementary school he teaches at. Principal Martinez is tapping his foot at the top of the steps, arms crossed in front of his chest, scowl etched deep on his face.

“This is the third time this month.”

“I know, I’m sorry! But the train got delayed with repairs or something and—”

“Save it. You have a class to get to.”

Breezing past, Wooyoung’s boots clack against the linoleum tile as he careens towards his classroom. The rowdy cacophony of third grade voices echo beyond the doorway, only increasing in volume as he peeks his head in.

A dozen shrill voices scream something along the lines of, “Mr. Jung you’re late!”

“You’re all just early!” Wooyoung goads back, sending a thankful look at the teacher who stepped in to watch them till he arrived.

The room descends into giggles, students finding their places as he settles at his own desk.

“So today, we’re starting with circle time!”

Y/N

“Let me get this straight: your ex asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend and now you’re spending Christmas with his family?”

Sparing a glance from the manilla folder containing notes on your next patient, you see Hongjoong watching you skeptically. The ridiculousness of the situation isn’t lost on you. You’d nearly convinced yourself the entire exchange Friday night was some cruel dream if not for the string of text messages proving it’d been real. Wooyoung’s first real attempt to speak with you post-breakup, and he asks you to pretend he didn’t break your heart six months ago.

“That’s about as straight as it gets.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow, “And you said yes, why?”

“Because…” 

You missed him? Because you still loved him? Because when you saw his message you thought he was finally ready to admit it'd all been a mistake? 

Because Wooyoung always convinced you to go along with whatever he asked?

“I really like his family.”

“Oh, sweet child.” He clicks, leafing through his own case file.

“Look, it’ll be nice to see them one last time and I’d rather spend the holidays with them than cramped in my apartment to avoid the tourists.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason why?”

“Yep.”

“This can’t go wrong at all!”

“Shut up,” you say before dipping into the exam room, shifting your face into an enthusiastic smile. “How are we today, Mrs. Haspin?”

“We’re doing okay. Harper hasn’t been liking the new medicine you prescribed.”

“She hasn’t?” You gasp sarcastically, staring wide eyed at the tiny brunette with braided pigtails sitting on the exam room bed.

“They’re gross!” Harper cries with all the sincerity a four year old can muster, her tiny hands wrinkling the paper as she slaps the bed indignantly.

“Well that’s no good. I’ll make sure to check if they have other flavors.” You type a few notes in her electronic chart as you turn over your shoulder. “Mom, have you noticed a difference?”

“She’s not having as many coughing fits.”

“That is very good.” You curl your stethoscope in your palm, attempting to warm the cool metal. “Can I listen to your lungs, Harper?”

She shakes her head up and down vigorously, the pink and gold beads at the end of her pigtails clacking together.

“Alright, take a deep breath in.” The woosh of air entering her lungs fills the room. “And out. In. And out.”

You prompt her to continue several times, gliding the chestpiece along various parts of her back as you listen intently. A few crackles pop in your ears, mucus coating her airways; only made worse by the dry winter of the city.

“Very good, Harper.” you praise before turning to her mom waiting anxiously in the corner. “With the winter make sure you’re using the humidifier as much as possible but her lungs sound better than last time so I’d like to stay on the meds.” You swivel back to your patient. “I’ll check with the pharmacy if they can do something about the flavor. Okay?”

Harper beams, glad to be heard. Her mother beams for an entirely different reason. Her daughter struggled with respiratory issues since she’d been born and as she aged they’d only gotten worse. Harper was the first patient you took when you started two months ago and in that time you’ve grown fond of her.

“All right, I’ll walk you all to the front. I think we can push out our next visit until six weeks since she’s been doing so well. If anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

Handing them off to the receptionist to schedule their next appointment, you return to your office for a quick lunch.

Y/N: Because I live here

Youngie 🖤: since when?

How do you tell him that you’ve lived here since the day he broke up with you? How that night at dinner you were planning to surprise him by moving back to New York and removing the distance that plagued your relationship for three years?

The benefit of no longer being in a relationship means you don’t have to explain anything.

Locking your phone, you scarf down the squashed sandwich you brought from home before rushing to your next patient. 

Wooyoung

Wooyoung: since when?

Wooyoung checked his phone after finishing pick up duty, one of several over the next month as a bargain to keep his job.

She’d ignored him. It wasn’t the first time his messages went hours before being answered. She was a doctor, and before that a med student, and before that pre-med when they’d met at some dive and realized they shared a behavioral psych class. Y/N always maintained a full schedule, only responding to the outside world when the night bled into the early hours of the day.

Wooyoung: Did you know Y/N moved here?

Yeosang: Yes.

Well fuck.

Wooyoung: You didn’t think to tell me?

Yeosang: You broke up.

Yeosang: ?

Even his roommate knew she’d been in the city.

Double fuck.

December 14th

Y/N

Another week passes before Wooyoung reaches out to you again. You’re set to leave in a few days but work requires all the energy you can manage thanks to a volatile respiratory season. 

Youngie 🖤: Our flights are around the same time. Do you wanna carpool?

You spoke with Yeosang frequently enough (once in a blue moon) to know they still lived in the dingy old walk up they could hardly afford. The high rise you rented further up Manhattan would be on his way to the airport but did you want to see Wooyoung sooner than needed?

Misery still festered in your veins since the break up. Eight years you’d dated; through senior year of undergrad, four years of medical school, and just shy of three years of residency. And the asshole couldn’t give you a single reason for your break up. No warning. No fighting. The same bouquet of delicate pink tulips waiting in hand for you as you arrived at the train station for your last visit to the city before relocating permanently. Yeosang texted you that very afternoon about his excitement to have you back as if nothing was wrong.

A beautiful afternoon holed up in his room for a late nap before dinner, apartment silent in the absence of his three roommates who’d usually greet you enthusiastically as you returned to the city for a visit. Wooyoung hadn’t acted any differently than the other times you visited, seemingly unaware of the surprise you planned to unveil at the fancy dinner he planned to congratulate you on finishing your long years of training.

But then he sat down and said the six words that replayed in your mind like a curse.

And that was the last time you heard his voice until Friday night; as if Wooyoung dove off the face of the earth. The only proof of living were the traces of him in his friends’ Instagram stories or faceless photos of him in their posts.

You’d never been one to post much on social media anyway but his shock at your move back to the city fanned a sick sense of satisfaction. As if to say “two can play at that game.” Wooyoung cut you out and you’d done the same. Keeping your move under lock and key despite sharing the same friend group.

Y/N: no thanks

You’re toeing the line of rudeness but what’s Wooyoung going to do? Break up with you again?

December 21st

Wooyoung

Terminal C of LaGuardia Airport four days before Christmas ranks among the top destinations no one in their right mind would want to be. Parents attempting to keep track of hyper children, businessmen scowling down their nose as they scream into their cellphones, adults slamming down overpriced drinks in preparation for the endless questions holidays bring.

“Bringing home anyone special?”

“When are you going to get married?”

“Grandchildren?”

The last is Wooyoung’s grandmother’s new favorite. Myungho faces the brunt of it; married three years and in no rush to add another mouth to feed just yet. When Wooyoung flew home for Bibi’s birthday in April, she decided to turn her inquiry towards him and Y/N. 

How fun it’ll be to answer those questions again with his temporarily not ex-girlfriend.

Security is long and laborious. One agent yells at him for keeping his shoes on, another rolls her eyes when he asks if his laptop needs to come out of his backpack. In front of him, a frail looking elderly woman struggles with placing the hard plastic bin on the rolling conveyor belt. Behind, grumbles of discontent regarding her holding up the line rise in volume as Wooyoung helps her with her things; sending a smile to her thank you.

And because no good deed goes unpunished, Wooyoung gets pulled for an extra search once he passes the large metal detector.

A burly pale skinned man with blue nitrile gloves sorts through his belongings with the gentleness of a bull in a china shop. Wooyoung’s wrecked and dusty backpack passes inspection easily enough but the contents of his carry-on end up spread across the shiny metal table for further examination under the sterile lights. Gifts for his family, some books he’s teaching next semester, and a navy velvet box he hasn’t left the city without in the past year.

That is apparently the source of interest for TSA as the man pops open the lid to scan the marquis cut diamond ring before putting it back in its place.

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung gives a tight smile.

Nodding his head to his colleague, the TSA agent steps away and allows Wooyoung to pack his bags.

He really needs a drink.

Y/N

“I’m sorry ma’am, the flight is overbooked. But there is room on the next flight to Denver!”

“No charge?”

“Not unless you would like to upgrade to business class.”

You have the money and Wooyoung paid for your seat so it’s technically cheaper than it’d usually be. However, Wooyoung would take it personally if he found out you sat in business when he paid for a last minute economy flight on a teachers salary. A few hours of comfort aren’t worth adding to the awkwardness you’ll face over the next week.

 “No, thank you. But if there’s an aisle seat available that’d be great.”

She taps on her keyboard with manicured nails for a moment, the light of the screen reflecting on her face, before speaking with a perfect customer service smile. “Alright, your new flight number is AYX287 and you’ll be flying out of Gate 98.”

“Thank you.” You say, reviewing the boarding pass she printed. Your new gate is on the opposite side of the terminal but you have a little over an hour to make it there.

Rolling your silver carry-on next to you, you weave in and out of the other airport goers heading in the opposite directions. A curse of any crowded space, people forget to walk with a sense of purpose. You dodge a young couple, probably teenagers, standing in the middle of the walkway oblivious to anyone else; only to end up behind an gaggle of older women surrounded by a heavy cloud of perfume and cheap wine. One of their shirts reads “Happily Divorced!” in glittery cursive.

More nimble footwork and multiple sign checks later, you reach the correct wing of the terminal with forty five minutes to spare. Confirming that your gate does in fact exist, you turn back up the walkway to find a drink. Preferably several.

The first time you see Wooyoung in months will require the strongest alcohol you can finally afford now that residency is over and you're making the hefty salary you’d been promised at the start of medical school.

A friendly faced woman, old enough to be your mother, greets you as you take a stool at her bar. 

“Cranberry margarita.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

“Yes, please.” You answer, handing over your credit card.

The first overpriced drink goes down smoothly, a little sweet and perfectly tart. The second and third much the same. Pleasantly buzzed with fifteen minutes till boarding, you cash out and shuffle back to wait by the gate.

And in one of the cramped pleather seats of the waiting area, sits your ex-boyfriend.

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is hallucinating. Two gin and gingers and a THC gummy churning in his stomach make the mirage in front of him look incredibly realistic.

In her usual flying outfit, Wooyoung’s ex-girlfriend stands twenty feet away every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw her. Loose gray sweats, the same old hunter green crew neck with the name of his hometown in frayed golden embroidery on the front, sherpa lined short ugg boots, and glasses perched on the end of her nose. The silver carry-on she bought in the airport last time they visited his family at her side.

And a sour look of absolute disgust twisting her lips.

Better he sees her for the first time since their break up now instead of later in front of the audience of his nosy family. In the safety of anonymity, she can kill him multiple times over with her eyes, and Wooyoung can grovel and pander like he usually does.

Or Wooyoung would if she hadn’t taken a seat along the bay of windows at the opposite end of the alcove.

Wonderful.

Y/N actively avoids looking in his general direction for the next fifteen minutes. An impressive feat given he’s directly in front of the help desk and TV screen displaying updates for their flight. But she digs her nose into her phone, tapping furiously to who Wooyoung assumes is her best friend. If he wakes up to Lisa in his apartment one morning with a knife to his throat, there’ll at least be a paper trail of evidence.

The gate agent booms over the loudspeaker, announcing priority boarding and first class to come forward. Wooyoung’s bank account weeps at the idea of flying first class during Christmas. Who flies first class domestic? A true mystery for the ages.

The familiar head of hair, full of murderous thoughts aimed at him, boards with group three. Flashing a polite smile to the gate agent as she struts down the hall without a glance back. 

When Wooyoung is called with the last group, he’s first in line. The airport is a dog eat dog world and his good deeds end where the boarding line begins.

Nearly every seat is filled when Wooyoung shuffles down the cramped aisle, full overhead bins already closed half way down the plane. He doesn’t spot Y/N amongst the faces of passengers preparing for the next five hours, some already knocked out with eye masks and neck pillows.

Seat 27A, a window seat Wooyoung paid an extra $37 for, sits next to a blissfully vacant middle seat. There’s also just enough room for his black suitcase to fit overhead, snug between a gray hard case, and a blue duffle. 

The aisle seat in the row is occupied by a man who looks a little younger than Wooyoung's age, a college hoodie and baseball cap similar to his own. He rises, allowing Wooyoung to shuffle by and plop into his chair. Stuffing his backpack under the seat in front, Wooyoung shoots a few last minute texts. One to his family group chat, letting them know the flight is about to take off; resending the flight number for his dad to anxiously track. Another to his roommate group chat, reminding them to cover the drains before they leave town. And a final one to San, begging for thoughts and prayers.

He barely hits send when the seat next to him jostles with the weight of a body. Turning, Wooyoung spots the man in the aisle seat a few inches from himself. On the other side, his ex-girlfriend.

Great.

Y/N

Wooyoung’s familiar mop of dark hair remains unseen through each new rush of passengers, the plane slowly filling up more and more. You dread to think he got stuck the same way you did hours ago, forced on a later flight than intended. If that was the case, would you be stuck at the airport waiting for him? Given his parents had to drive two hours to pick you both up, the answer is probably yes. And two hours unsupervised with Wooyoung’s mom would ruin the entire plan.

Nature calls you to the cramped bathroom at the back of the aircraft as passengers at the front continue trickling in. Hopefully Wooyoung is sitting far away from you when you return to your seat.

Stupid motherfucker. You think, rattling the jammed door of the airplane stall in an attempt to force it open. Just as you're about to kick the door down, a flight attendant shoves it aside, flashing a tight smile of displeasure.

Shuffling up back to your seat, you awkwardly wait behind struggling passengers putting away their belongings in the sparse overhead space. Thank the powers that be, your new ticket came with better boarding.

Finally catching up to the familiar faces of the rows around your seat, you turn to find two men in your row. One in your seat, and the other your ex boyfriend.

You stop dead in your tracks, with a loud, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Sorry!” The man who is not your ex-boyfriend apologizes.

“No! Not you, sorry!”

Wooyoung just stares blankly. If habit and history were to repeat itself, Wooyoung carefully timed an edible before stepping through security. Given his propensity for being obnoxiously early to the airport, he should be high as a kite.

And now you’re stuck next to him drunk as a skunk.

Great.

Taking the now vacant aisle seat, you attempt to ignore Wooyoung once again; plugging in your headphones and pulling out a book you’ve been trying to get through for months. Lisa’s recommendation of smutty fantasy romance with hot immortal faeries. You didn’t see the appeal but at her insistence, you gave it a chance.

“Hey,” calls a voice to your left. 

Nope, not doing this. You think, forcing yourself to read the opening paragraph again but registering none of the words..

“Y/N,” he tries again.

In your periphery, you can see Wooyoung folding over at the waist to look around the man sandwiched between you. 

“What?” You snap, ripping out your headphones.

“How’ve you been?”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sink back into your chair, headphones replaced and book in the pocket in front of you. It’s going to be a long flight.

Murphy’s law states that anything that can go wrong will and your flight is no exception. The packed jet is stuck taxing for almost an hour, courtesy of the trademark fog and rain of New York in the winter. You can feel the heat of Wooyoung’s gaze burn the side of your face, cheeks heating under his scrutiny. But the full scale meltdown threatening to unleash if you entertain him has no place in the sanctity of a last minute holiday flight of people just trying to make it to their next destination.

He doesn’t stop when the plane finally lurches forward, witnessing you brace for the worst part of flying; take off.

The loud rattles and pitch of jet engines skyrocket your blood pressure, flooding your mouth with saliva as a threat of vomiting everywhere; a sickening cold sweat pooling at your back. All you can do is close your eyes, and take deep calming breaths your guided meditation apps recommend. Running through the facts keeps you from descending into full panic. Airplanes are notoriously safe. The odds of dying in a plane crash are one in eleven million. You’re more likely to die in a car crash or from something one of your patient’s brings into the hospital.

But the brief suspension in time and space as you rise through the atmosphere unsettles you to your core. 

The panic steeping into your veins is temporary, eager to vanish the second you reach cruising altitude. It disappears like a late winter snow under early spring sunlight, leaving only trace evidence it ever existed in the first place. But it’ll be back with a vengeance under the screaming brakes and the sounds of wheels hitting pavement as you land.

The seatbelt sign chimes off, and the breath you’d failed to release follows the fading light that illuminated it. 

Wooyoung tries to talk to you another two times before giving up. The final instance is a plea for the bathroom, which you graciously grant; thrilling in the relief you feel at his absence.

The poor guy between you two looks worse for wear, having offered to trade seats with either of you so you didn’t have to talk across him. You apologize once Wooyoung is out of earshot, excusing the strange behavior with a white lie that he's just a friend from college you didn’t get along with and hadn’t seen in a while. The stranger's name is Jay, and he laughs at the irony.

“That’s crazy that you two ended up on the same flight. Are you from Denver?”

“Oh, no. Just visiting some family in Lavensville. What about you?”

“No way! My mom is from Lanesville.”

“Small world,” you laugh. “So what took you to the city?”

“I’m in grad school at Columbia. Getting my MBA.” 

“Excuse me.” Wooyoung arrives over your shoulder.

When you rise, you notice his face is tense as he passes to return to his seat. He pretends to sleep the rest of the flight as you chat with the man next to you. 

Six laborious hours pass before you land in Denver. Exiting the plane, you leave Wooyoung behind in favor of waiting by the restrooms on the way to arrivals. You tap your foot impatiently as he stumbles over, clearly exhausted by the late arrival of your flight and the idea of another two hours in his mom’s cramped sedan.

Shuffling next to one another in somber silence, you wait for Wooyoung to speak first. He dragged you into this, and it’s his job to make it work.

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine.”

“How’s work?”

“Fine.”

“Okay. Look.” He turns, stepping directly into your path and nearly toppling over when you bounce off his chest. “I’m sorry for all of this but you agreed to come so can we please at least act cordial?”

Unfortunately, Wooyoung is right. He might have put his foot in his mouth, but you didn’t take the chance to bail. He’s only fractionally more guilty than you.

“Fine.” You sigh.

He pins you with a look, eyebrows arched as if asking “are you sure?”

Shuffling around him, you begin your journey to baggage claim once again, Wooyoung hot on your heels.

“I’m working at a hospital uptown, I live in Yorkville, and I still prefer the buses to the train.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” Wooyoung nods. “I’m at the same school, in the same apartment, and still living with San and Yeosang. But Mingi moved to Williamsburg with his girlfriend.”

You try to smother the snarkiness of your voice but a sarcastic “I know.” slips free.

Even if you weren’t as close with the boys due to the break up, they’d been your friends as much as his; especially Mingi’s girlfriend, who’d you introduced him to. Lia invited you to their housewarming party when they finally settled in but you missed it due to work, and the nerves of seeing Wooyoung so soon after such a fresh break up. 

The conveyor belt of remaining unclaimed luggage spins like the saddest merry-go-round in existence. Wooyoung jumps forward to snatch your suitcase before you can react, rolling it your direction before diving back in for his own. Once out of the way, he calls his mom to confirm she’s pulling around to pick you two up. 

The silver sedan whips to the curve, Wooyoung’s mom beaming from the driver’s seat.

“My babies!” She cries through the rolled down window.

Mrs. Jung always gave you the enthusiasm your own mother couldn’t feign. Smiling at her before circling the trunk where Wooyoung packs away your bags, you snatch his hand before he can throw it closed.

“Should we tell them I still live in Boston?”

As if you’ve just spoken another language, Wooyoung simply blinks at you.

“How are we gonna explain separate apartments? It makes no sense.”

“Oh,” he gasps, as if the thought didn’t occur to him. “Ugh, yeah good idea.”

The security guard monitoring the pick up area begins striding towards the car, inhaling to yell a warning. Throwing your remaining luggage inside the trunk roughly, you both sprint to enter the vehicle. Wooyoung plants himself in the passenger seat, squeezing his mom in a tight hug as you buckle in the middle seat. Untangling from her needy son, Mrs. Jung peels out and joins the line of cars attempting to merge on the interstate. 

Reclining the seat back, Wooyoung knocks out immediately, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“How’s Boston, dear?” She chimes, voice light and bouncy despite the late hour.

You provide your stock answer for everytime someone asks over the past three years.

“Cold, wet. Lots of sick babies.”

“At least they’re consistent!”

You try to swallow the instinct to comb through Wooyoung’s hair as he naps. The first thing you learned about him in the early phase of your relationship was that Wooyoung needed some kind of physical contact at all times or he’d die. At least, he thought so. It’d been annoying at first; the constant hand holding, suffocating hugs that left your arms useless as you tried to study, even the overabundance of cartoonish kisses anywhere his lips could reach. But over eight years, you grew to appreciate his special way of showing affection. When words failed the man who always had something to say, he relied on touch to convey the things he couldn’t verbalize.

Even if you say all the right things and act like nothing's wrong, anyone who has ever been associated with Wooyoung will know something is up if he isn’t hanging off you like a koala. So if you’re going to pretend the last six months hadn’t happened then you have no reason not to treat him the way you always had.

Your nails snag on a few invisible tangles in his shaggy hair that spills across the cloth seat. It’s longer than when you last saw him in the summer, top half pulled back in an elastic. Continuing to provide updates, you gently brush the bangs hanging in his face. Wooyoung whines sleepily when you pause, causing his mom to laugh.

“Nice to know the city hasn’t changed him.”

Quick to appease, you start again before responding. “Eh, I don’t know about that. Have you seen some of his shoes?”

“Still?” She gasps.

“Unfortunately, I think it’s terminal.”

Mrs. Jung’s cackly laugh is a perfect doppelganger of her son’s. Shrill and mischievous, compelling you to laugh along in pure glee even if you don’t find shared humor; bewitched by the pure joy.

Once the initial rush of reunion wanes, she insists you doze along with her son. The gentle caress of warm air from the vents, paired with the smooth carols from the radio, lulls you down into a shallow rest.

Wooyoung

As his mom rolls to a stop in their driveway, the gentle glow of the car's cabin lights draw Wooyoung awake. Eyes only a quarter open, he stretches in the reclined seat with an obnoxious yawn, hands brushing the firm body of Y/N dozing behind him. She shrugs his hand off her thigh, burrowing back down into the collar of her sweater.

“Come on, sleepy heads. We’re home.” His mom announces as she opens her door.

Home for Wooyoung is a cream two story, five bedroom, three bathroom, Williamsburg Revival style home with royal blue shutters. His dad added the two car garage himself, meticulously matching the exterior to the existing home, blending old and new seamlessly under the watchful eye of his mom. The now gray and dead garden that usually bloomed wildly below the first floor windows was his grandmother’s contribution when she moved in before Wooyoung started highschool.

When his parents were two college students at the obscure liberal arts college Lavensville was built around, his mom had been obsessed with the very house Wooyoung grew up in. According to his dad, Wooyoung’s mom talked more about the house than anything else; a true historic preservationist to her core.

It was an odd way to ask someone to marry you, but his dad always said “Some women wanted a ring. Your mom wanted this house.”

His dad surprised her with the ring after she stopped crying about the house.

Golden string lights drip from the corners of the roof, casting the exterior in a buttery soft haze. Each window sporting a wreath with a thick red velvet ribbon. A heavy layer of snow coating the ground like powdered sugar makes the entire scene like something out of a snowglobe. 

Another yawn before braving the inevitable blast of chilly air, Wooyoung spots Y/N in the rearview mirror; features curled in a sleepy scowl, eyes squinted against the sudden light.

Wooyoung joins his mom at the back of the car, crowding her away from the truck as she insists on helping them carry everything inside. She manages to snag his backpack and Y/N’s carryon before he can shoo her towards the path to the front door where his dad is jamming on an old pair of sneakers to come help.

“We got it!” Y/N calls across the icy lawn, bidding the older man to stay inside as she struggles with her suitcase.

“I can see that.” His dad laughs, jogging down the salted sidewalk curving along the front of the house to reach them.

His dad lifts her larger suitcase out of the truck with ease, leaving Wooyoung to roll his own inside while Y/N balances her tote bag and his carryon. The wheels grate against the uneven brick sidewalk as everyone rushes to return to the heated interior of the house.

It’s well past midnight as they climb the staircase in the foyer to the second floor. Wooyoung’s room is just as he left it the last time he visited in the spring. The headboard of the tiny twin bed resting against the wall just under the window looking out to the front yard, posters from his childhood still tacked up crookedly. 

Wooyoung tries very hard not to think about the last time they shared the quilt covered bed of his childhood room. How the last trip here had been the last time Y/N slept in his arms, the last time he laid her bare beneath him. Six months and the memories felt as real as they had when it happened.

Sharing the tiny mattress could only mean trouble for the delicate truce Wooyoung had made with her in the airport.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He offers, unzipping his suitcase for clean clothes to sleep in.

Digging in her own suitcase, Y/N scoffs at the idea. “Don’t be stupid, what if Bibi comes in?”

“She’s gotten better about knocking!”

“Yeah, after she saw us having sex!”

Not like that’s gonna happen again.

“We can share the bed, it’s too cold up here to sleep on the floor.” Y/N says as she grabs her toiletry bag and shuffles to his door. “You’re a diva when you don’t get good sleep.”

“I’m not a diva” Wooyoung whines after her, rebuttal bouncing off the piece of wood separating them. 

When Y/N returns from the bathroom, Wooyoung takes his turn to brush his teeth and wash his face. It’s just for a few days, he reminds himself. She leaves the day after Christmas and after he returns to the city he can tell his family they decided to part ways.

Until then, Wooyoung gathers all the patience he typically reserves for the army of eight year olds he deals with every day in an effort to not descend into insanity.

He finds her balancing on the edge of the narrow mattress, a sliver of space behind her for him to sink into. Neither says anything as the minutes tick by, both refusing to fall asleep despite the fatigue swirling over them attempting to find root. Back to back, Wooyoung stares at the wall as he tries not to listen to the gentle whoosh of Y/N breath.

December 22nd

Y/N

Shuffling into the cold kitchen, you barely crack your eyes open as you beeline for the coffee pot resting on the counter. Wooyoung’s mom greets you from the dining table, eyes scanning her newspaper as you reply with a mumble “morning.”

One would think years of twenty-four hour shifts and early mornings would make waking up easier but you’d sleep all day if given the chance; however, Wooyoung suffocating you like an octopus forced you from the heated sanctuary under the covers and downstairs. Already it was too easy to pretend you were still together. Waking up tangled in him, his face squashed against your sweater clad chest as he snored, blissfully unaware of the budding panic attack you’d calmed with a freezing shower full of choked tears.

Planting your rear in a dark oak dining chair around the table, the jolt of caffeine and sugar lulls your senses awake as you scroll your phone. 

You send a text to your little brother, confirming your parents had made it to their cruise safely while your flight crossed the country. Two weeks in the Caribbean, all expenses paid, sounded a lot better than a week in rural Colorado with your ex-boyfriend. Thankfully, there’s no cell service in the middle of the ocean; so you don’t need to explain to your mother why you were spending Christmas with Wooyoung, who she truly was never fond of to begin with.

Sometime after bed, Lisa sent a string of vaguely threatening emojis and a picture of her yorkie with the Christmas sweater you bought as an early gift. Assuring her Wooyoung had been on his best behavior so far, you switched over to skim your clogged work email.

“Do you want some breakfast, sweetie?” 

“This is fine.” You say, raising your mug.

“How can you be a doctor and try to tell me coffee is a healthy breakfast?”

“I have horrible news if you think doctors have time to do any of the things we tell people they should.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re here then because you have plenty of time now.”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung hates waking up alone. It feels inexplicably wrong. Especially after sharing an apartment with Y/N for those four years she was in medical school. There’d been plenty of road bumps but spending every night curled up under the comforter with the woman he loved made it all fade to black. He never slept as good as those years.

Except this morning, he wakes up to Y/N’s fingers brushing his hair like she always did when they’d been together, and for a second Wooyoung thinks the entire breakup must’ve been a horrible dream. Wooyoung hadn’t moved a muscle lest the passes of her short nails sending goosebumps down his spine stopped. Eventually, the lazy drags lulled him back into the land of sleep as her heart sang his favorite lullaby.

The second time Wooyoung woke up, she’d been long gone and he felt the familiar emptiness he thought he’d forgotten after all these months apart.

Trudging down the stairs with loud footsteps, Wooyoung spots his mom in the kitchen, mouth spread wide over laughter as Y/N sits at the counter, cradling a mug of steaming coffee. If Wooyoung had to bet, the ceramic mug probably contained more sugar and milk than anything.

“Morning,” he grumbles, forehead resting against the cool marble of the island as he continues to doze in front of the audience.

His mom pats his back as she passes to reach the fridge, “Go sit down, Woo. You're in my way!”

“Everyone is so mean to me,” he pouts, but rounds the counter to sit next to Y/N nonetheless, resting his cheek on her shoulder, feeling her startle at the contact. 

Wooyoung hides a satisfied smirk in her sweater when a hand starts scratching his back under his hoodie. He can almost forget their lying to everyone in the gentle passes of her cold fingers chilling against his hot skin.

 “Your brother is getting in this afternoon so we thought of letting everyone relax until this evening and then having a game night.” His mom calls over her shoulder, busy with the pan heating in the flames of the stove.

“Where’s Kyungmin?”

“He went with Bibi to volunteer at the church this morning.”

“Sucker,” Y/N mumbles for Wooyoung’s ears only, sending him into giggles.

Wooyoung’s grandmother has a particular way of guilting everyone in his family to do exactly what she wants. It’s why he’s sharing his childhood bed with his ex-girlfriend, why his dad keeps the house unbearably warm all year round, and why his little brother is no doubt undergoing military grade interrogation first thing in the morning.

Going to church with Bibi was less about being closer to God and more about being paraded in front of her old lady friends with single granddaughters. Wooyoung had been a victim until he met Y/N, each summer at home more exhausting than the last with not so subtle reminders Ms. So-and-so's granddaughter was very pretty and very available. But the second Wooyoung sent a picture to his mom of the girl he had not so casually started dating fall semester of senior year, his grandmother ceased all effort to set him up. And after she met Y/N at graduation, Wooyoung beamed with the knowledge his entire family not only approved but liked his girlfriend. 

Leaving poor Kyungmin to bare the brunt of Bibi’s well-meaning torture almost made Wooyoung feel guilty. Operative word being almost. Because Wooyoung had survived it, their older brother had survived it, and now it was Kyungmin’s turn to endure the special brand of Jung family meddling.

And the second his family finds out he's technically single, Wooyoung knows it’s only a matter of time before Bibi smothers him in his sleep for breaking up with the girl she considers family. And after, when she resurrects him from the dead, Wooyoung will be thrown to Bibi’s friends like a sacrificial lamb to starving wolves.

Stealing a sip of Y/N’s overly sweet coffee can’t clear his mouth of the sour taste.

“Wooyoung, you need to make up the guest bed for your brother.” His mom says, dropping a plate of eggs and toast on the counter for him and Y/N to share.

“What about her?” Wooyoung asks, lips stretching as he stuffs his face.

“She’s a guest!”

Washing down a harsh swallow with another sip of coffee, Wooyoung mutters a “hardly,” under his breath.

“Get your own!” Y/N snaps, shoving the mug out of his reach.

Wooyoung responds with a high pitched whine, huffing similar to a toddler rather than a man who's almost thirty. “Why are you both being so mean to me? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Rising to pour his own mug of caffeinated gold, his mom quickly claims the empty chair before she bats Wooyoung away. Claiming something about “girl time” as an excuse to get him out of the kitchen before he can truly annoy them to his fullest potential.

Y/N

When the afternoon rolls around, Bibi greets you with a fierce hug and a grandmotherly pinch to your cheek, smiling up at you as she asks for any and every update since she last saw you in April for her birthday.

Luckily, Kyungmin unconsciously rescues you as he enters the house, boxes piled high in his arms of goodies from the other ladies at church trying to court him on their granddaughter’s behalf. Rushing to his aid, you give him a gentle side hug as you walk with him to the kitchen.

“So…” you start, eyeing the stacks of cookies crowding the counter. “How was church?”

A pained groan answers you, Kyungmin dropping his head to the marble counter with a thud. 

You can’t contain your snicker, snagging one of the deformed gingerbread men to dunk in your fresh cup of coffee.

“Only a few more months,” Kyungmin mutters under his breath, the reprieve of college clearly tethering him to sanity.

Wooyoung told you all about Bibi’s ways when you started dating, thankful to no longer entertain doting mothers and grandmothers interested in him only because he was single and knew basic manners unlike many of the men lurking around Lavensville. Poor Kyungmin didn’t stand a chance if Wooyoung hadn’t managed to charm his way out until he got a girlfriend Bibi approved of.

“At least we get snacks out of it!” You clap, continuing to sort his haul as Kyungmin hides in his arms.

A tan hand sneaks over your shoulder to steal the decapitated cookie still in your grip, turning to see Wooyoung nibbling on arm as he observes the collection of cookies, fruit, and other treats.

“Come on!” You stomp your foot like a toddler.

“Tastes better when it’s stolen.” Wooyoung winks, forcing you and his brother to dry heave in unison. Your reaction isn't genuine, only an effort to hide the squeeze in your chest at how easily he can fall back into old habits after months of radio silence.

Wooyoung’s mom breezes into the kitchen, unbothered by your bickering as she types out a text message.

“Myungho and Mia land in an hour. Your dad is already on the way to pick them up.” She rattles off, more to herself than anyone else. “Kyungmin, you need to tidy all of this up. Wooyoung you already put clean sheets on the guest bed? Great. Y/N, dear, would you mind helping with dinner later?”

“Of course.”

—

Dinner consists of chili you didn’t assist with other than pulling out extra toppings from the fridge for, and everyone chattering around the table. Myungho is sharing some story about his and Mia’s neighbor who refused to close their blinds, everyone laughing at Mia’s grimace when she recalled the horrors of the “tighty-whities” incident. Each time you stay with the Jung’s you're shocked how well they get along, everyone slotting together perfectly like some cheesy sitcom family.

It’s not that your family didn’t love each other, but there was little bonding you together other than shared blood and memories. Your mom clearly favored your brother while your dad tried to make up for the snub by prioritizing you. Growing up with the invisible competition left bitter resentment to this day. At least now, after years of therapy and freedom from the suffocating expectations of your childhood home, you and your brother shared a mutual understanding that it was your parents fault for the animosity between you. Nothing could the damage already deeply ingrained, but you’d become a more united front during family affairs. 

That’d been the first time you and Wooyoung fought in your tentative relationship. He hadn’t seemed to understand how you could talk about your brother with such vitrole, confused why you weren’t more excited to see him after living in the city permanently since sophomore year. Not that you’d explained your family dynamic prior to calling him in a full blown meltdown in Washington Square Park at midnight. But Wooyoung listened. And when you brought up how perfect his family seemed, he quickly corrected your assumption.

Wooyoung knew his parents loved him and his brothers equally. But they were helping him pay thousands of dollars in tuition out of state for him to be a teacher while his older brother made six figures fresh out of college as an engineer. Even if they were happy for him, Wooyoung struggled with the internal conflict of idolizing his brother and feeling like he’d never measure up.

It’d been the first time Wooyoung cried in front of you.

The tense conversation and awkward small talk of your childhood home didn’t seem to have space here at the Jungs, nothing but laughter and warmth filling each nook and cranny. Even the awkwardness of sitting next to your ex-boyfriend, pretending he was still your partner, seemed to be stifled with the company.

“So, Y/N, when are you planning to move back to New York? You finished residency, right?” Mia asks over her glass of wine, eyes bright.

“Ugh,” you stutter, unprepared for such directness.

“Or maybe you’re thinking of moving to Boston?” She eyes Wooyoung.

“We’re, uh,” Wooyoung pipes up, frantically looking at you.

“I’m looking at jobs in the city but nothings come up yet.” 

“That sucks.” Myungho chimes, working to help their father clear the table for games.

Rather than answering, you take a long draw of your drink before rising to hide in the bathroom.

In the silence of the small half bath under the stairs, you attempt to control your stuttering breath. A few splashes of cool water on your face help shock your system but it does nothing to stop the  It’d taken years to perfect the stone-faced facade you presented to families when the outcome was less than favorable. 

A light tap at the door startles you from the nose dive your conscious has taken.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You call, scrubbing your hands in the sink.

“It’s me,” Wooyoung chirps on the other side of the wood.

Opening the door, Wooyoung leans his shoulder against the jamb, eying you warily. Pulling him into the cramped space, you press the door closed as you lean against.

“I can’t do this, Woo. I can’t lie to them.”

 “Don’t think of it as lying! Just pretend you're back in that drama class in college!”

“Oh, you mean the class I almost failed because I couldn’t act?” You whisper harshly.

“Just let me take the lead okay? All you have to do is be normal.”

Another knock on the door startles you both. When you got so close to Wooyoung, you have no idea, but there are only a scant few inches between you and you can smell the peppermint schnapps on his breath.

“Wooyoung, Y/N. Is everything okay?”

Twisting around your stiff body, Wooyoung nudges you out of the way as he twists the handle and pulls the door inward.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung answers, opening the door to a concerned Bibi. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

Bibi brushes past him, the cool back of her wrinkled hand pressing against your forehead. “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine, just got a little light headed.”

One arm curls around yours, the other gently patting your back as Bibi guides you back towards the kitchen with Wooyoung trailing behind.

“You know, when I was pregnant with Wooyoung’s father I got lightheaded all the time.”

“Oh?” 

Bibi’s implication isn’t lost on you, or Wooyoung for that matter when you hear him curse as he trips behind you.

“Almost everyday I’d have to drink a gallon of ginger tea just to get out of bed.” She guides you into a seat before turning. “I’ll make you cup while the boys set everything up, okay?”

“That’s really not neccess–”

But Bibi is already filling the kettle and rummaging in the cabinets for tea bags as if you didn’t speak at all.

Wooyoung

Cursing his grandmother for making an already tense situation worse, Wooyoung shakes his head as she flutters around the kitchen. Perhaps he should be relieved Bibi moved away from asking when they were getting married and fast forwarding straight to asking for grandchildren. At least Wooyoung hadn’t been as close to being the dad as he was as being a husband. Kids were completely hypothetical; but marriage had almost been a reality.

Kyungmin is already setting up the Scrabble board and dishing out letters. Eight people was far too many so like every year they divide into pairs. Mom and Dad, Myungho and Mia, Kyungmin and Bibi, and him and Y/N.

The board begins to crowd with letters. Bibi and Kyungmin struggle to play anything worth more than fifteen points while his parents brush off challenge after challenge as they fill the board with words like “Paczki” and “Rudistid.”

“Quips, baby! Do you know how hard it is to get rid of a Q?” Mia asks everyone, high fiving Myungho next to her. 

Wooyoung exchanges a conspiratory smile with Y/N before he ruins their celebration. “I know! And when you have a U and an I and every other letter I need for QUILTING on a double word score. Plus bingo for all the tiles we don’t have…Boom 96 points.”

Arms thrown around each other's shoulders, he bounces up and down with Y/N in victory. Their cheeks squish together, matching bright tipsy grins pulled across their lips. Almost like everything is normal.

“No fair! You’re an English teacher!” Kyungmin protests, nostrils flared.

“Yeah to third graders, Minnie. You know just as many words as they do, I promise.”

Y/N doesn’t move from his hold except to take another swig of the tea his grandmother made her. Wooyoung tries not to think about what it means; having an arm curled around the back of her chair while she settles into the crook of his chest, watching his family over the top of her head, relaxing firm pressure of her body against his own. Taking the tentative peace for granted, Wooyoung greedily overindulges in the illusion of normalcy.

December 23rd

Y/N

In the cool toned light of the snowy dawn, you wake in Wooyoung’s arms once again. This time you're both on your sides, Wooyoung pressed firmly behind you as he snores in your ear. A familiar lump pokes against your rear, scorching your skin through the layers of clothes that serepate you.

Wiggling in his grip, you're ashamed of the quiet moan fleeing your lips as Wooyoung flexes his arms to hold you tighter, his hips rolling against you harshly to pin you to him.

Blame it on the months without feeling another person’s touch, or the liminal space that exists when the world is asleep and void of any real consequences, but a hollowness stings your core and dampens your panties.

Years of dating meant years of exploring one another’s bodies, discovering every spot that drove the other mad and perfecting the balance of teasing and satisfaction. You still remember the first night in your shared apartment years ago; Wooyoung blindfolded and tied to the bed, putty under your fingers as you rode him until your eyes felt permanently crossed and your legs numb. And just when you thought the night was over, sated with his cum leaking onto the sheets, Wooyoung knotted the silk scarf around your own wrist and “cleaned up” the mess between your thighs until you actually blacked out.

The very memory has you arching backwards, clenching around nothing but disappointing emptiness.

It’s wrong. So so so wrong. To fantasize about your ex-boyfriend while he’s asleep next to you, none the wiser to your stuttered breath and pounding heart.

But the way his hand on your stomach fists the fabric of your shirt, pulling you into him again, beckons you closer to the edge of temptation. Wooyoung told you to act natural. What’s more natural than enjoying some half asleep heavy petting? You’re already pretending to date him, why not reap some of the old benefits you’d missed in your time apart?

Just as you turn in Wooyoung’s arms, set on waking him with an offer even he can’t refuse, he yawns awake. Arms stretching high, he pushes you from the toasty covers and onto the floor with a bang!

“Jesus Christ!” You groan, jolting pain in your elbow shocking your system as it catches the edge of the bed frame.

Wooyoung’s head pops over the side of the mattress, “Why’re you down there?”

Scoffing, the back of your head thuds against the floor; eyes sinking shut as you fight the urge to murder him. Three more days and you’ll never have to deal with the ridiculousness that follows Wooyoung like a shadow. 

You hear, rather than see, Wooyoung exit into the hallway. Stretching your lungs around another deep breath, you follow behind him. Passing the bathroom door as you pad down stairs, you're greeted with an empty kitchen. The stove clock reads just past nine so more bodies should trickle in soon, called by the coffee you’ve begun brewing. Sending a silent prayer to the universe, you prepare for quality time with Mrs. Jung and Mia. Another day of lying to the people who treat you better than your own family. 

Wonderful.

Wooyoung

Like a teenager with his first wet dream, Wooyoung hides in the sanctuary of the bathroom.Thankfully, his brothers aren’t prone to waking before noon and he stakes his claim by locking the door and entering the steam.

Maybe dry humping his ex-girlfriend while half asleep was a bad idea but Wooyoung knows she pushed back into him with a purpose. He’d heard the whimper she tried to silence, felt her press her legs together the way she did when she was wet and needed his help.

Wooyoung hadn’t meant to launch her to the floor but overdue break up sex with the rest of the house due to wake up any minute couldn’t be a good idea. And with three more days of their charade Wooyoung needed less complications, not more.

But the knowledge of how wrong he should feel doesn’t stop the memories of them together from placating his mind as he palms his aching cock. Months of abstinence fail to dissolve Wooyoung’s photorealistic memories of his ex-girlfriend in compromising positions; bent in half to take his cock, staring down her nose as she sits in his lap. And his personal favorite, Y/N on her knees, eyes watering as her swollen lips stretch around his length, the flared head nudging the back of her throat.

The swiftnesses of his orgasm is a fatal blow against his fragile ego. Biting the meat of his fist, Wooyoung watches his cum sink down the drain. Unfortunately, the confusion pulsing through him doesn’t follow.

—

As Wooyoung descends to the living room, he spots his dad and his brothers watching a documentary on the Discovery channel. Sinking into the worn leather of their ancient couch, he cracks open one of the books he brought from home. Brave New World wasn’t light reading, but he’d been meaning to give it a try since Yeosang recommended it to him and what better way to spend his free time? 

Soon enough, his dad snores from his spot in the recliner, chin tipped back against the headrest. Kyungmin remains entranced by the colorful birds dancing across the screen while his other brother no doubt taps away at work emails cluttering his phone despite the holidays. It’s the kind of peace and content Wooyoung loved about his family. Co-existing without needing to interact, enjoying each other's presence while living their own lives.

Y/N

The acrid sting of acetone and nail polish burn your nose under the harsh white lights of the nail salon. Mia is happily chattering away, blasting through any stilled pauses or awkward silences. Bibi and Mrs. Jung sit at the counter getting their nails painted by the attendants in calm silence.

You try not to kick the young woman scrub your foot as she brushes against your ticklish nerves, squirming in your seat as she gives a tight lipped smile at your discomfort. For a week off for Christmas you cashed in every favor, picked up every single on call asked of you, nearly breaking under the demand to stretch yourself so thin as the new doctor in your department. The horrific results of hours on your feet were being ground down and clipped before you. 

Relaxing was… difficult for you. Or other peoples’ definition of relaxation was. To you, the perfect day off was running around town, hitting an early morning pilates class followed by an overpriced coffee and finding something to do in the city that offered everything. Sitting still was a necessary evil to get to and fro but it left you to stew with your thoughts you preferred to drown in an overwhelming weight of activity.

“Y/N,” Mia calls, bringing you to turn and look at her. 

Her usually glowing face is apprehensive, lip worried between her teeth and eyes downcast.

“Yeah?” 

“You work with kids, right?”

“All day.” You laugh, trying to break the tension.

Mia hesitates, struggling to find the words she wants to say. “After all the stuff you’ve seen, do you still want them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you and Wooyoung think you’ll have kids someday?”

“I mean not anytime soon considering…”

That we aren’t together. You finish in your mind.

But Mia assumes the unspoke truth is the fact you’re supposed to be living in Boston while Wooyoung is living in New York.

“I mean of course, but like you guys both work with kids and I feel like you know the worst that could happen! My friend Mina just had her baby and she says she can’t sleep. She just sits up all night watching him because she’s afraid somethings gonna happen.”

“Mia, are you and Myungho?”

“Not yet,” she smiles. “But we’ve been talking about it more and I know I want that with him but I’m just—”

“Scared?”

She nods sheepishly.

Hesitating as you weigh your next words carefully, you think about all the conversations you’ve had with worried parents. Most of the kids and parents you met were under less than positive circumstances. Babies with underdeveloped lungs, toddlers who couldn’t breath from just sitting up. You’d be lying if it didn’t make you question having your own. The powerlessness you felt when no matter how hard you worked to fix things it was all for naught. 

But all of the bad days don't outweigh the good ones. When NICU preemies got to leave the ward with their families for the first time. Having a child take their first full breath because their medication was finally starting to work. The plethora of thank you cards hanging on your fridge and displayed in your office from the families you’d helped.

And you remember all the stories Wooyoung told you about his classroom. Kids who could barely read falling in love with the books he gave to them, hounding him for more stories. When he made way with a problem child, watching them begin to excel under his gentle guidance. Giggling at Wooyoung hiding his tears at the end of year advancement ceremony when all his third graders became fourth graders every year.

“I think being scared means you care. And you can always call me if you’re worried, no matter what happens.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Mia laughs.

“You’re gonna be a great mom.” You whisper, squeezing her arm.

Mia squeezes your hand back, “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sister.”

“Me too.”

You look away as Mia blinks, breathing away the wetness glossing your own eyes.

—

Upon returning home, you find all four men passed out in various positions in the living room. Mr. Jung in the recliner that predates your birth, mouth wide open and glasses crooked on his nose. Sprawled across the floor is Kyungmin, gangly teenage limbs starfished to the edges of the carpet. Wooyoung and Myungho share a blanket across their laps, both with their backs on opposite sides of the couch. 

You four try to contain your laughter at the sight. If there was any doubt about who fathered the Jung boys, the shaggy black hair and symphony of identical snores would easily lay those rumors to rest. 

Bibi shuffles down the hall to her room, claiming a nap to be a great idea after the pampering from the nail salon. Mia and Mrs. Jung head into the kitchen, each teething with bulging bags of groceries for tonight's gingerbread competition.

But you can’t take your eyes off Wooyoung. The only time he ever looked so peaceful was when he was sleeping, face positively boyish and missing the stress induced wrinkles from managing a class of eight year olds. The urge to cross to him and kiss the freckle on his lower lip floods your brain but you’re able to stuff it down when he whines in his sleep, twisting to re-adjust on the lumpy couch.

Following the shuffle of plastic bags echoing from the kitchen, you busy yourself with unpacking the boxes of pre-made gingerbread houses, candy, and tubes of icing. Neatly organizing the packages on the counter, Mrs. Jung pushes you and Mia upstairs as she starts to prepare dinner.

The clock on the stove shows it’s closing in on three, giving you enough time to shower and have a nap of your own before the mayhem of the evening.

Cranking the faucet to the highest setting, you waste no time waiting for it to heat as you jump under the cold water. Wooyoung called you a psychopath the first time he witnessed you shower routine but you’d been busy applying for medical school, working in the student health center, and tutoring in the biology lab, all while maintaining a perfect GPA in the fall semester of your senior year; you didn’t have time for the simple pleasures of wasting precious minutes while your apartment’s old pipes struggled to carry hot water through the faucet. And as they say, old habits die hard.

The chill brings sharp clarity with it. It’d only been two days and you’d already fallen into the same bickering as before, been tempted to kiss him when no one was around to fool, and nearly fucked him in his childhood bed. 

Three more days. You think, shivering lessening as steam billows around you. 

Then you can leave this entire maddening ordeal behind you forever.

Wooyoung

The squeeze of Wooyoung’s heart threatens to topple him to his knees at the sight of Y/N curled up in his bed. His old college hoodie circles her face, lips pouted and eyebrows furrowed at whatever dream world she’s lost in. 

Wooyoung aches to wake her up with innocent kisses as he holds her to his chest, fingers ironing out the wrinkles of her forehead as she breaches the surface of sleep. To smile at her whines of protest of being interrupted from a rare opportunity to rest without worrying about work or some other responsibility.

But what Wooyoung wants, he doesn’t deserve. As bold and indulgent as he might be in front of the prying eyes of his family, he isn’t cruel. Even if it kills him not to touch her like he used to be able to, Wooyoung won’t subject her to the torture of his feelings. It’s the least he can do for pulling Y/N into this sham after ending their relationship without explanation. 

“Y/N,” he whispers, fingers prodding her shoulder. “Gotta wake up.”

She responds with a throaty groan, pulling the edge of the blanket over her head to hideaway.

“C’mon it's almost time for dinner.” 

“Youngie, it’s cold.” Y/N protests as he tries to lift the covers.

Grinding his teeth against the nickname, Wooyoung continues to pry the quilt from her iron grip.

“I can get Bibi up here.”

Flying into a seated position, she blinks against the overhead light. “I’m up!” 

“That’s what I thought.” Wooyoung smirks, crossing to the door. “Let’s go sunshine.”

Y/N mutters empty threats under her breath the entire way to the kitchen, so close she’s cast in his shadow under the threat of Bibi’s wake up methods. Nothing like a woman pushing eighty banging pots over your head to get the blood pumping.

Everyone else already crowds the table, picking apart the trays of snacks as they organize their supplies kits. 

Jung family tradition requires everyone, sans Bibi, to decorate their own house according to the year's theme. After an hour, she picks her favorite and the winner has the honor of opening the first present on Christmas morning. Y/N demolished Myungho’s long standing winning streak the first year she entered the competition; Mia taking her place the next year in Y/N’s absence. Since then, Kyungmin reigned supreme despite his creation looking like a haunted house no matter what the theme was.

“Alright,” Bibi stands once Wooyoung and Y/N have taken their seats at the end of the table. “This year's theme is movies. On your mark, get set. Go!”

A room full of adults, plus Kyungmin who's only a few months short, should act with a sense of decorum and dignity. A fair and clean competition in the name of holiday spirit, family, and comradery.

But Jung house rules mean cheating is not only expected, it’s encouraged.

The table is warzone. Icing dripping off the sides and onto the tile floor. Candies trailing everywhere like shrapnel. Mia hides a piece of Myungho’s roof in her lap, and their mom steals the level their dad insists on using every year. Even Kyungmin slowly starts hoarding the bags of colorful royal frosting one by one in the pocket of his hoodie before anyone can notice.

Wooyoung catches Y/N attempting to eat his bag of gumdrops in his periphery. Their half gone by the time he’s noticed but he simply laughs under his breath. What she doesn’t know is that those are her gumdrops and his are stashed under the table since they sat down.

The little sugar addict is nothing if not predictable.

Most of the houses are beginning to take shape, albeit much more loose definitions of whatever each person decided to do. Kyungmin’s house is poop green with a red roof, streaks of color patchy against the brown cookie sheets. His mom sticks with the traditional decorations instructed on the packaging, no doubt prepared to argue it somehow fits the theme despite being the same every year. Mia’s is laced garishly with pink and pastels, while Myungho crumbles pieces of his for whatever godforsaken reason.

Wooyoung focuses on decorating his tiny gingerbread man with black slashes and stripes.

“Time!” yells Bibi as she whacks the bottom of a pot with a wooden spoon, everyone drops their last piece of candy before hands fly up.

As always, his mom manages to be the only one to finish due to years of practice. Everyone else’s houses are… interesting.

“Mine’s the Grinch,” Kyungmin says.

“The Grinch?” Y/N asks, confused by the horrendous green and red abomination.

“See, you get it!” 

Shaking her head, Y/N points to her own monstrosity. “Okay, so the yellow skittles are the yellow brick road and the green on the house is meant to look like the Emerald City from Wizard of Oz.”

Perhaps if the Emerald City burned to the ground and became ruins but everyone nods at the vision.

“Mine is supposed to be Barbie's Dream house.” says Mia, gesturing to the mound of pink frosting sliding from the roof.

Myungho slams a toy dinosaur from their childhood on top of his pile of cookie pieces before declaring, “Jurassic Park.”

“Home Alone,” his mom chimes.

A chorus of groans around the table answer.

His dad’s is covered in chocolate bars and marshmallows. It looks decent but Wooyoung doesn’t get it until he tells them it’s “Willy Wonka.”

Nodding in appreciation, Wooyoung presents his.

“Nightmare Before Christmas.”

The gray and black icing swirl to make a ugly blob, but Wooyoung will argue it’s exactly what he was going for. Especially with his miniscule Jack Skellington perched in the yard.

Bibi circles the table, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each entry. She shakes her head at Kyungmin, clearly disappointed in his failure this year. 

“Eunkyung wins!” She cheers, raising his mom’s hand like she won a boxing match.

Claps and whoops fill the kitchen as she beams, proud to win a second time in the history of the competition. 

“Wooyoung, put the winning house on the mantel please.” His dad asks, already moving towards the pantry for trash bags.

“Your majesty.” Wooyoung bows in front of his mom, laughing when she slaps his shoulder.

What he fails to realize is Y/N is leaving the same door he is, and that a sprig of green leaves sit just above their heads.

“Mistletoe!” his mom squeals.

“Huh?” Grunts Y/N, confused.

Wooyoung looks up and spots the infuriating piece of decoration, another pair of eyes trailing after his own. 

If they were still dating, Wooyoung would swoop her into his arms and make an entire production of giving her a short peck on the cheek, his parents were watching after all, while Y/N laughed at his ridiculousness. But now he hesitates as he looks into her eyes, barely missing the nod as she leaves a brief kiss on his lips before turning and leaving the room.

Even under the brief contact, Wooyoung’s lips feel like they’ve been zapped with lightning; his entire body on high alert. So lost in his own world, Wooyoung doesn’t realize he watches her walk away until she’s turning a corner and is out of sight. 

Remembering the gingerbread house still in his hand, Wooyoung continues into the living room to place it front and center on the mantel. 

Y/N

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! You think, watching yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth.

You’d spent the rest of the night sweaty and flushed, stuttering like an idiot because of a G-rated kiss with your ex-boyfriend for crying out loud. 

What was wrong with you? 

It was like the butterflies of the beginning of your relationship were waking from dormancy, demanding to let loose in your chest.

But none of this is real. Wooyoung only reached out so Bibi wouldn’t be upset over a last minute cancellation. He didn’t ask to explain why he ended your relationship so suddenly. Didn’t try to weasel his way back in and kiss everything better. All the touching and joking you’d missed so much were nothing more than an elaborate plan for Wooyoung to not be seen as the bad guy by his family. His way of delaying the inevitable. 

And you’d fallen right into the mess subconsciously hoping it might have meant something more. 

The foaming residue of toothpaste splashes against the porcelain sink as you finish washing up. Hiding in the bathroom can only buy you so much time before you have to face Wooyoung again, a new feast of tension waiting for you on a silver platter.

His tiny room is notably empty. Wooyoung nowhere to be seen as you burrow into the blankets. Hopefully, he stays away until you're fully unconscious and able to avoid the entire ordeal.

—

A draft of frigid air invading the warm haze under your mountain of quilts wakes you. Wooyoung shushes your indignant protest, pulling the top layers off. His weight doesn’t dip the bed behind you. Instead, you listen as he shuffles around, the dull thud of pillows and blankets hitting the floor. When he quiets, you turn to see him curled into a ball on a makeshift sleeping matt next to the bed. 

The questions burn on the tip of your tongue. Why is he sleeping on the floor? Was he that upset about the kiss? 

But you don’t ask and Wooyoung doesn’t provide an answer.

December 24th

Wooyoung

Christmas eve is Wooyoung’s favorite part of the holidays. Not even a poor night sleep on the freezing unforgiving floor can dull his excitement. 

He’d risen early, sneaky out of the room the second the sun peaked from the horizon and illuminated the space. Y/N slept soundly, back turned away from him as he evaded her successfully.

A fresh powder of snow fell sometime in the night. So with a hot cup of coffee and a need to get lost in something mindlessly physical, Wooyoung heads to the garage for a shovel to clear the sidewalk and driveway.

Wooyoung knows he should apologize to her. She’d basically avoided him after they got caught under the mistletoe, scurrying upstairs the second it was polite for her to do so. Technically, she kissed him. But the entire situation wouldn’t exist if he didn’t put his foot in his mouth.

Plus, the entire ordeal of yesterday morning couldn’t be ignored. And Wooyoung was ashamed he didn’t feel ashamed.

Mind numb in the cold monotony of moving slush from the concrete to the yard, muscles burning at the strain, Wooyoung loses track of time as the sun moves across the sky.

His dad finds him shoveling the end of the driveway, pants soaked and breath heaving. 

“You okay, kid?” the older man asks, sipping his thermos.

“Fine,” Wooyoung pants. “Why?”

“Because you’re out here.”

“Just helping out.”

“Wooyoung.” A sharp sternness to his tone as his dad’s gloved hands halt the shovel.

He hates that voice. Wooyoung’s dad was soft spoken and good natured, the quietest member of their boisterous family. Always gentle with three rowdy sons that constantly pushed the endless bounds of his patience. Wooyoung can count on one hand the times his dad used this voice on him. Apparently now is one of those times.

Wooyoung looks his dad in the eye before lying to his face, “I’m fine. Really.”

Eying his son skeptically, Wooyoung’s dad clearly doesn’t believe him. 

“Alright.” he drawls. “But come inside, your mom made pancakes.”

Y/N

“Come on Kyungmin, we don’t want to be late!” Bibi calls from the hallway.

In front of you, Kyungmin blanches; terrified of another day surrounded by prodding grandmothers. He looks at you for help, but you offer a sympathetic smile and a shrug of shoulders. If only he knew how much torture you were being subjected to in the name of keeping Bibi happy.

Wooyoung had been scarce since the early hours of the morning, slaving away at clearing the driveway alone. He made a brief appearance at breakfast and lunch but found any excuse to stay faraway from whatever room you planted yourself in. 

Taking the hint, you set up camp in the kitchen. Laptop screen reflecting off your blue-light glasses as you skimmed another journal article about forced oscillation technique and impulse oscillometry. Fascinating as it was to you, it’s just boring enough to anyone else to keep them away; allowing you to waste away the entire afternoon in the most productive way possible.

The sun is already setting by the time others begin to trickle into the kitchen. Mia begins filling snack trays for the trademark movie night; half sweet, half savory. While Myungho sets to work on a batch of mulled cider they picked up at the market.

Kyungmin stomps into the kitchen with a fuming Bibi hot on his heels.

“They’re nice girls, Kyungmin. There was no need to be rude!”

Your wide eyes meet Mia's twin expressions of shock. The youngest was a sweet kid; perhaps he had an attitude sometimes, but he was a teenager after all. To hear he’s been out right rude and in front of Bibi no less, comes as a surprise.

“You’re crazy!” Kyungmin yells, arms waving wildly before he flees to his room.

The sudden silence of the kitchen is rattling. No one moves or speaks as Bibi starts organizing random objects and mail on the counter, clearly uncomfortable with her grandson’s outburst.

Slipping from your chair, you turn to follow in the direction you know he’s bound for.

—

Winter in Colorado is brutal enough, but the wind slicing across your cheeks as you teeter out a tiny window onto the roof at the back of the house makes you regret wearing only a sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. 

Kyungmin’s lone figure is illuminated in the silver moonlight. A telltale stench fills your nostrils despite the thick smoke evaporating in the wind the second it leaves his mouth. Waddling towards him on your butt, you stop next to him. He passes the glass bowl into your waiting hand without a peep. 

You take a long hit before speaking, allowing the tingle of THC to flutter through your veins. 

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask, cradling your knees to your chest in an effort to conserve warmth.

“No.”

“Okay.”

The thick woods fencing in the backyard bends in the wind. Pine trees shake the fronds like feathers, fluffing up as the wind flutters by. A lone swing, attached to a rickety playground set, swings back and forth. It’s beautiful and eerie. Only your breath and the occasional cough from Kyungmin disturbs the fragile place.

“I can’t wait to go to college.” Kyungmin mutters from under his hood.

“Have you heard from anywhere yet?”

“No. But I don’t care where I go as long as I’m not here.”

“Was it that bad?”

“She’s crazy! All of them in that fucking church are insane!”

“Wooyoung told me the same thing.” You chuckle.

“They just stare at me. It’s creepy.” 

“Yeah, that sounds pretty creepy.”

“And Andi just laughs whenever I try to tell her about it.”

“Who’s Andi?”

“A friend.” 

Kyungmin’s tense response tells you Andi isn’t just a friend at all.

“What's she like?”

“She’s nice. She’s in my history class at school.”

“Oh?”

“And she got a scholarship to play soccer in Georgia.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“So you like her?”

“I mean, of course I do. She’s my best friend.”

“Kyungmin…”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s so out of my league.” Kyungmin sighs.

“Why do you think that?”

“She’s smart, and she’s athletic, and she’s funny. She wouldn’t see me like that.”

“Okay.” You nod, “Well, when Bibi started pimping you out at church, what did Andi do?”

“She got really mad when I went on a date with one of them.”

“Oh, really?”

“She didn’t talk to me for like two weeks. I thought she was just, like, on her period or something.”

Shaking your head, you turn to face the ignorant boy. “Alright, first things first. Never, under any circumstances, assume a girl is mad at you because she’s on her period. Ask your brothers or your dad how that's worked out for them. Second, how would you feel if Andi went on a date with someone?”

Face twisting in disgust, Kyungmin grabs the piece again to take a hit.

“Exactly. Maybe you should ask her on a date.”

Kyungmin snorts at the idea, “Yeah, sure.”

“Party out here?” Myungo calls from the window.

Turning, you spot Wooyoung and Mia peaking around his broad shoulders.

“Yeah but it’s B.Y.O.W.”

“Perfect.” He calls back, folding in half to step on the roof.

“Just think about what I said, okay?”

“Okay.” Kyungmin promises as he links his pinky with yours.

Mia and Myungho land on Kyungmin’s other side, a joint visible in Mia’s dainty fingers. Wooyoung plops down next to you, lifting the bowl from Kyungmin and dumping the ash on to the roof.

As he focuses on packing it, you get your first glimpse of him all day. The tip of his nose is red and he keeps sniffling, no doubt from the hours he spent outside or in the garage doing who knows what. Wooyoung’s hair is a mess of tangles, sticking this way and that in the wind and you choke on the urge to straighten it for him. 

You’ve never been good at staying mad at him, even when he’s clearly in the wrong. And what’s worse is Wooyoung knows it. 

Wisps of smoke pour from his nostrils before he passes you the bowl again. Shaking your head, Kyungmin plucks it from his brother’s fingers.

You feel Wooyoung’s breath caress the shell of your ear before he speaks.

“What are you guys doing out here?” He whispers.

“Bibi.” You whisper back.

Wooyoung nods lazily, eyes glazed already. Landing on his back, he looks up to the sky. 

The pale light sharpens his features. Strange how all three brothers looked so similar yet different. Kyungmin still had the round cheeks of adolescents, limbs gangly as he towers over his brothers at only seventeen. Myungho was broader than both but only a fraction taller than Wooyoung, square jaw and cropped hair. But Wooyoung was all angles and sharpness. Even from the first night he approached you in that dingy karaoke bar near campus, you knew he was handsome. But now he looks ethereal. Like some beautiful demon coming to take your soul and laugh all the while. 

Eventually you all end up shoulder to shoulder, each lost and thought and staring at the lonely full moon above. Wooyoung’s hand brushes your own, sending throbbing jolts of electricity through your body. Hooking your pointer finger around his, Wooyoung sighs next to you before settling. 

It somehow hurts worse than if he would have let go.

Wooyoung

Exhaustion and pot nearly knock Wooyoung out as he passes his bedroom door. An early night, lost in the land of dreams where he doesn’t have to think about why he can’t look Y/N in the eye; why he felt a punch in the gut when he spotted her on the roof with his little brother, taking care of him like Kyungmin was her own family; how he wanted to cry when her fingers circled his own. 

Wooyoung’s attempt to uncomplicate his life only seemed to tighten the noose around his neck.

Jung family tradition dictates a Christmas movie with gross amounts of sugary snacks on Christmas Eve. The tradition started before Wooyoung could remember but it’d been his favorite all the same. What little kid didn’t cherish the opportunity to wake up to Santa dropping presents under the tree? Not that he or his brothers managed to stay awake more than half way through whatever movie his parents pulled from the dusty DVD collection on the bookshelf. But as he grew older, Wooyoung appreciated the uninterrupted time he was gifted to spend with his family, especially with each of them living in separate corners of the country.

The new set of matching pajamas every year were simply a bonus.

This year’s boast a deep green with a vintage Christmas light pattern. The inner flannel is positively delightful against Wooyoung’s freezing skin, lulling him into a light doze as leans against the couch between Y/N’s spread legs. 

Kyungmin sprawls in his usual place on the rug in front of the coffee table, glazed eyes glued to Will Ferell terrorizing New York City in yellow tights. Mia and Myungho are off on the other side of the couch, Bibi taking the middle seat. His parents are snug in his dad’s recliner, resembling two teenagers rather than the fifty year olds they really are. Adorably disgusting how in love they still are. 

Resting his cheek against Y/N’s knee, Wooyoung twists his hands in his lap. He can’t touch her. Not sober and absolutely not high out of his mind like he is at this very moment. Because if he starts, Wooyoung is too weak to stop himself. And considering the way she keeps staring at him every time she thinks he isn’t looking, Wooyoung doesn’t think Y/N would want him to stop either. 

—

Bedtime is the same awkward dance as before. His entire family pulls each other into tight hugs, mostly aided by the edibles Myungho slipped them before they all descended downstairs. Calls of “Love you,” and “see you in the morning,” land against his back as he trails behind Y/N.

They get ready for bed in the dark, flashes of bare skin visible in the light trickling in from the cracked curtains covering the lonely window. Turning to face the wall, Wooyoung plugs in his phone while he listens for her to land on the mattress.

When the shuffling ceases, he finds her in a nest on the floor, back towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“You took the floor last night.”

“You don’t hav–”

“Just go to bed.” She bites, voice fragile.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he huffs, temper rising as he crosses to the other side of the mattress.

“I’m fine.” 

“Just take the bed.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sitting up, Wooyoung barely makes out her scowl. “Why do I need to explain everything to you?”

“Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m stubborn? Me?”

“Considering you’re the one on the floor while the bed is empty, yes you’re the stubborn one.”

“Because I’m fine here!”

Wooyoung wades through the quicksand of his brain for a response. Upon finding none, he flops on the pile of blankets next to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Now shut up.”

“Wooyoung,” she sighs.

No more energy to fight, Wooyoung burrows deeper into the mound of quilts; set to sleep next to her on the floor if she continues to refuse the bed. If he was a diva on poor sleep, Y/N was a menace. She’d cave eventually when her hips ached from the painful stiffness of the unbending wood.

Except Wooyoung can’t sleep. All of his nerves are heightened next to her. His entire left side burns in her heat, acutely aware of every shift of her weight or rustle of the blankets. Wooyoung’s lips still burn from their kiss. A childish brush against his mouth but he can’t stop replaying it in his mind over and over. And when he thinks about yesterday morning, when he dreamed about her and then woke up flushed against her, it all makes his blood rush to his head and a weight settles on the back of his tongue.

When Y/N stops twitching beneath the covers behind him, breath even and shallow, Wooyoung finally follows her into sleep.

December 25th

Wooyoung

Christmas morning brings Bibi through the upstairs hallway with a familiar wooden spoon and small tin pot. Wooyoung hears the first crash slide under the crack beneath his door, an ice bath to his system.

He’s still on the floor, a foot between him and Y/N. 

“Get up.” Wooyoung shakes her, not wasting a second as he stands to dive into the still made bed.

She groans in the morning light, eyes crusted as she looks for the disturbance.

Another shrill beat sings through the hall. Much closer to Wooyoung’s door than last time.

“Shit!” 

Y/N tackles him into the pillows. Both attempting to look natural as the door rebounds against the wall, a well rested Bibi standing in the doorway.

“RISE AND SHINE!” His grandmother wails, drumming a rhythmless beat and she turns to stalk towards Kyungmin’s room at the end of the hall.

Dual sighs of relief leave their lips, Y/N rising to stalk to the bathroom without looking back.

Y/N

Mrs. Jung’s victory grants her the privilege of opening the first present this morning. Everyone gathers around, matching states of messy hair and bed-wraggled pajamas, to shred shiny wrapping paper at ten in the morning.

Her first gift is the large rectangle box addressed from her sons, all of them failing to stifle their matching laughter as she slowly unwraps the picture frame. You and Mia had helped arrange the picture last time everyone was together for Bibi’s birthday, sneaking out of the house with the excuse of seeing a movie when you drove to the mall for an old school photoshoot at the department store. 

Wooyoung’s parents join in the giggling bouncing of the walls as they take in all three boys dressed head to toe in denim, arms wrapped around on another’s waists prom-date style as they stare dead faced at the camera. The cherry on top is their matching bowl cuts, making them resemble a nineties boy band. Another frame slips out of the paper, a similar photo of you and Mia except her chin rests on top of your head, eyes obscured by yellow tinted sunglasses.

“Oh my god,” Mrs. Jung guffaws. “You all are ridiculous.”

Passing the frames around the room, Mrs. Jung takes turns hugging her sons along with you and Mia. 

“Oh, my girls. Thank you for putting up with them.” She whispers into your ears, Mia on her left and you on her right. 

You refuse to think about how tomorrow you’ll leave their house for the last time as you squeeze her back tightly. 

As the youngest, Kyungmin is charged with passing out rounds of presents while Mr. Jung collects the discarded ribbons and paper. Thankfully, bringing a gift for Wooyoung wasn’t an expectation. Why sacrifice sacred luggage space to exchange gifts with someone who lives in your backyard? Mia and Myungho never brought their gifts for one another, and you and Wooyoung followed suit.

But that didn’t stop you from braving the hoards of the city in an effort to last minute Christmas shopping before flying out. Bibi loves the fancy lotion you brought her, and Kyungmin is more than satisfied with the promise of whatever new video he can afford with a Playstation gift card. Wooyoung’s parents leaf through the books you bought in a last ditch effort to provide some sort of parting gift. Myungho screams as he unwraps the mug with “IBS: I be shitting” blasted across the front and Mia opens each tin of specialty tea for a whiff of the herbal scents.

Hours later, surrounded in the disarray of boxes and bows, Mrs. Jung announces it’s time for brunch. Everyone takes turns washing up or teetering upstairs to brush their teeth but she pulls you aside before you have a chance to follow.

“Y/N, we have one last gift for you.” She whispers, removing a small box from behind her back. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone just in case but I want you to know how much we all love you.”

You pull out a cardboard box and a thick card.

“To my future Daughter in Law,

There isn’t a single day I don’t thank the stars for how lucky my son is to find someone as incredible as you. He’s a better person because of you and our family is so blessed to have you in it. I was lucky enough to be given three amazing sons but now I’m fortunate enough to have two daughters as well. 

Love, Mrs. Jung”

Each word is a new punch to the gut, tears swelling in the corner of tight eyes. Focusing on opening the box in an effort not to break down in the hallway, you unveil a simple silver chain with a knotted pendant. The same you’ve seen Mia and Mrs. Jung wear on special occasions.

“Oh, I can’t—”

“Nope. I won’t hear a word of it! It’s family tradition. Bibi gave me mine, and now I get to give you yours.”

“But I really—”

But Wooyoung’s mom is a force to be reckoned with. Slipping the delicate piece of jewelry out of the box, she slips it around your neck and straightens it before you can stop her. When she’s happy, you fall into her arms in a fierce hug as you weep into her shoulder.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, patting your back comfortingly; clearly thinking you're overcome with emotion at officially being a part of the family.

You don’t correct her. Why ruin such a heartfelt moment by shattering the illusion now that you're so close to the end? Instead, you take comfort in her embrace, willing the tears to stop with the same principle you use in the hospital: save the crying for the shower.

Stepping out of the hug, you allow her to wipe away the trails of tears marring your cheeks with soft swipes of her thumbs, a soft smile at her tutting over you. Mrs. Jung pulls you into one last bear hug before pushing you upstairs to compose yourself.

Wooyoung stares as you pass him on the stairs, evidently alarmed at the evidence of your crying. But you keep your eyes down as you trudge by. 

Wooyoung

Wooyoung can’t help but worry at what happened between presents and breakfast to make Y/N so upset but his mom keeps squeezing her shoulder and Bibi just smiles knowingly in her direction. The new necklace circling her neck is familiar but Wooyoung can’t place why and he hasn’t had the opportunity to ask. 

Crowding into the living room as the sun sets, he doesn’t miss the way Mia intertwines Y/N into a fierce squeeze, practically bouncing off the walls with giddiness. He doesn’t have time to ask what it’s about before another movie is starting on the TV to wind down for the evening.

He can feel the tension rolling off her in waves next to him. Muscles locked and leg jittering the same way it did before she had to take her MCAT or open exam results. When the screen fades to black, Y/N is up the stairs and out of sit before he can blink.

Following her up, Wooyoung finds her perched on the edge of his bed, fingers stroking the pendant resting between her collarbones. Shut in the quiet of his room, Wooyoung asks the question that’s buzzed in his veins all day.

“What’s the necklace about?”

“Your mom gave it to me.”

“I thought so.” He nods. “But why was everyone acting weird about it?”

Rather than answer, Y/N hands him a note. Wooyoung recognizes the tight cursive of his mom’s handwriting. Regret trickles down his spine and bubbles over with each word. He’d never meant to be cruel when he asked Y/N to come here but then again he didn’t think about how hard this must have been for her. To secretly say goodbye to his family and their relationship after she was already working through it on her own. He should have known she was bottling it all up, the same way he was prone to.

“I didn’t realize she’d—”

“Why did you break up with me?” She asks, still staring at the floor.

Regret transforms into the shame that’s eaten him alive for months. Wooyoung’s mouth won’t form the truth for what he did so he lies.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit!” She bites, glazed eyes blazing as she rounds on him. “Eight years. We dated for eight years and you think you can tell me you don’t know why?”

“We dated for eight years and you didn’t even say anything when I did it! You just left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? Beg you to stay?”

“You just gave up.”

“No, you gave up!” her voice cracks, finger pointing accusingly. “I didn’t even know we were having problems.”

“Boston was always a problem!”

“Which I was already planning to fix.”

Wooyoung recoils from the invisible smack against his face. Is that what she was planning to tell him when he interrupted her? 

“What?”

“That night I was trying to tell you I got a job in the city. That I was moving back.”

“You’re joking.”

Shoulder sagging under the weight of their mess, Y/N falls back onto the bed.“It was gonna be my last weekend trip down.”

Sniffles and desperate breaths fill the space. And Wooyoung gathers the courage to tell her the truth.

“I was planning to propose.” He can see her head turn in his peripheral, but he’ll lose the gaul if he sees her face so Wooyoung stares at the wall ahead as he speaks. “I had the ring for a year. And I was gonna ask you but I…” he trails off.

“You what?”

“I got scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of everything. I thought of how much we’d have to change, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give anything up to be with me.”

“Wooyoung, I never felt like that.” She objects, shaking her head. “I hated Boston. Do you think I was moving back to the city for you?”

“Kind of, I—”

“I have my own life there. I lived there for seven years! I was always planning to move back.”

“Then why were you being so secretive about it?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I knew you’d been stressed and I ddin’t want to add something else to your plate and… because I was worried if I brought it up too soon something would go wrong.”

“I still have it by the way.”

“What?”

“The ring.”

“Why?”

“I think some part of me feels like if I let it go then it’s really over.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to get back together?”

“I didn’t want to break up to begin with.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I’m not good enough for you! I’ve never been good enough and I know you say it's not true but it is. I’m a public school teacher with shit pay and an apartment I can barely afford. That’s all I can offer you and it isn’t close enough to what you deserve.”

“Do you think I’m that shallow?” Y/N fumes, clearly not understanding what Wooyoung meant. “Why do you think you get to decide what's good enough for me?”

“Because someone has too! One day you’re gonna wake up and realize you can have anyone you want.”

“Not anyone.”

Y/N

The suffocating atmosphere of Wooyoung’s room pushes you into the chilly shower stall. In the stifling steam and perfumed bubbles, you quietly let all the emotions of the day run wild; eyes puffy, face swollen, and snot dripping from your nose to be washed away by the boiling streams of water. You hide for as long as possible, shivering as the heated water runs out and frigid ropes blast your skin. Unable to endure anymore of the stinging icicles, you exit the stall red nosed and blue lipped. 

Wooyoung sits on the edge of the bed with his back to the door. You watch his shoulder tense, rising closer to his ears as you pad closer to lay down. 

You’re too tired to sleep on the floor, too exhausted to fight with him again. So you curl under the covers, body sliding back when Wooyoung joins you. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, tracing his index finger along the knobs of your spine, attempting to comfort you the same way he always had.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

You both stay there in the silent darkness, their breaths and the hum of the heater keeping absolute stillness at bay. The tears you split in the shower followed you to the pillow, running down your cheeks as you try to keep the worst at bay. Wooyoung doesn’t stop tracing shapes between your shoulder blades, the worn cotton of your sleep shirt rubbing against your heated skin. How is the source of your distress the same as the source of your comfort?

Turning to face him, you realize how close he’s moved. Scant inches separate your chests, the heat of his legs licking your own bare ones under the blankets. You spot his own tears, eyes swollen and red, thick lashes clumped together as they fall.

If your love for Wooyoung was an ocean, you’d be lost at sea for years. 

He watches you watch him, hands finding one anothers and tangling together. When Wooyoung opens his mouth, pausing as a sniffle breaks free, you surge up to connect your lips.

Startling for only a second, he eagerly kisses you back. Tears and spit gloss your lips as you dip your tongue into his mouth, licking against his teeth before retreating to bruise his lower lip with your own. Wooyoung manages to roll on top of you, pinning you to the mattress as if you plan to up and leave at any second. You respond by crushing your lips together a fraction harder, attempting to communicate the longing and hurt words can’t convey.

The hem of his shirt finds its way between your fingers, moving further up his stomach with each insistent tug. Wooyoung’s own hands busy themselves, one buried in the hairs at the base of your scalp, cradling your head to move you this way and that as he continues exploring your mouth. The other wrinkles the pillow case beside you, muscles rippling as he holds himself over you. 

When you wiggle your hips, thighs spreading to cradle him between, he dives to your neck. Blood rushes to the surface as he nips and bruises the delicate skin below your jaw, scorching pants raising goosebumps in its wake. He shudders when your nails scratch down his abdomen, thumb dipping under the band of his pajama pants.

It's been nearly eight months without this. Two months before your breakup, in this very bed while the rest of the house was asleep as Wooyoung laughed into your neck while you drunkenly whined for him to touch you.

As familiar as those memories are, this time is entirely new. 

Wooyoung’s thumb, knowing and skilled, brushes across one of your nipples over your shirt, using the rough fabric to his advantage; stiffing it to a tight peak before allowing the weight to settle in his palm. Arching your back, you remove the piece of cloth separating you. Wooyoung barely allows you space to slough it over your head before he’s back on you, latching to the side of your neglected breast as he curls his hips into yours coursley. Your body reacts on nothing but instinct; back arching closer, thighs spreading wider as his knees carry him further down the mattress.

Reverent caresses of his hands lead him to the apex of your thighs, his breath fanning the damp patch of your shorts just before Wooyoung tucks his thumbs into the elastic to nudge them down, breathing deeply as he bares you for his eyes.

A tentative lick up length of your slit pulls a pathetic whimper from the back of your mouth. The flat of his tongue lave against your engorged clit, slow and torturous as Wooyoung indulges in your taste. Rough palms slide beneath the meat of your thighs, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders. A harsh suck against the bundle of nerves locks your muscles tightly around Wooyoung’s head but he takes it in stride as he drops a hand to slip his fingers inside your clenching hole. Curling the pads of his digits upwards, you feel him in your throat as you bite back moans. Your fingers twist in Wooyoung’s inky hair at the delicious torture, hips rocking into his eager mouth as he pants against you; refusing to separate from your drenched center. 

When his unoccupied hand slips into your own, a death grip on your entertwined fingers, you fall apart. Your chapped lips nearly bleed from effort to remain quiet, writhing in Wooyoung’s hold as he continues to lap up everything you offer him.

A final suck against your clit has you scrambling to pull his mouth to your own, tasting yourself on his soaked cheeks and tongue.

“Please,” you whisper into his mouth.

Wooyoung responds by kissing you gently, the passion curling your toes while he fists his length before allowing the flared head to nudge your entrance.

Finally presses forward, fitting inside you as he always has, another tear burns down to your face. It all comes rushing forward, never ending waves rolling over you after you’ve been knocked down into the surf. Memories, good and bad, race through you at a breakneck speed. The tingling elation of the night Wooyoung asked you to be his girlfriend, the nerves of when you asked him to move in together during medical school. Sadness when you moved away for residency with the promise to come back. The numbing despair you felt the night you thought would be a turning point in your lives. The straw that breaks the camel's back is Wooyoung's admission that you’re too good for him. Choking your own pain down, you try to hone in on a spot on the ceiling in an effort to stay grounded.

Several seconds pass before Wooyoung notices the fresh bout of sobs, mistaking choked whimpers as whines of pleasure after such a long time apart. His nose traces the tendon of your neck as he cants his hips slowly, one hand still tangled in yours, the other pressing your knee up and around his waist to stretch deeper. When the dig of your nails into his shoulder turns from a sting to a cut, he leans back and realizes his mistake.

Eyes find one another through the distorted haze your sorrows create, his rounded with concern still glazed with evidence of his own tears. Staring at one another in a silence broken by sniffling and staccato breaths, a second set of tears mix with your own as he rests his forehead against yours. Locking your arms around Wooyoung’s broad shoulders and hooking your knees around his back, you try to seal him into your skin. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, voice broken and cracked. “I’m so sorry. I–” he hiccups. “I didn’t–”

What he’s apologizing for is a mystery. Forcing you into this charade? Telling you he was planning to propose? Breaking up with you in the first place? 

Perhaps it's all those things. Maybe it's none of them.

“I love you.” He whimpers into your hair, lips branding the words into your skin.

It’s not enough. But for tonight, you’ll let it be.

“I love you, too.” you whisper back, straining to brush the tip of your nose against his own.

Tomorrow, you’ll fly back to the city and hide in your apartment and pretend to be okay. Dive so far into your work that you forget the way Wooyoung has ripped the healing wound on your heart open again.

Tonight, you’ll pretend the missing piece has finally been found and can stay forever.

Tensing your thighs, your locked ankles nudge at the dip of his spine to remind Wooyoung he’s still inside you. He hesitates for a moment but your lips silence his objections, just as eager to indulge in the fantasy as you are.

The pace is bruising, stomachs firmly pressed together as he reaches for the top of the bed frame to provide more leverage. Wooyoung’s back ripples and flexes as he pounds into you, the vibration of his weak moans tickling the sensitive pads of your fingers as they etch down his ribs.

Consumed by an overwhelming need to touch him everywhere, you cradle his face between your palms. Wooyoung flashes his eyes open, as if startled you’re still there, before leaning into one of them. Thumb tracing his lips, he drops a searing kiss to the crease of your knuckle. The tenderness burns the remaining oxygen out of the room.

His next word is so quiet your ears fail to detect them over the slap of your bodies connecting or the squeak of the old bed frame. But Wooyoung’s said them against your skin enough times over the years for you to know the feel of his mouth forming around the sound.

You come with a muted whimper. So worn from tears, pleasure fizzles in your veins like the gentle ripple of the wind through the trees. Clenching around Wooyoung harshly, the tell tale hitch in his breath signals the beginning of his end. 

But he is truly done for when you lean up and whisper his words back into his ear, “forever.”

December 26th

Wooyoung

Wooyoung wakes to an empty bed, cold sheets, and the pillowcase squishing his cheek already damp from the tears he shed while sleeping.

December 29th

Wooyoung

A tedious drive to the airport grants Wooyoung ample time to stew in discontent, replaying the events of the past week over and over in his head.

Was he insane to think Y/N wanted him too? All the moments he nearly forgot they’re barely more than strangers after months of silence, how they still fit together so perfectly. Wooyoung knew he’d been a mess after the break up but the past week made him realize how lost he felt without her. Like the ocean without the moon to guide the tide; like he was missing half his heart. How many times had he opened his messages to text her something mundane from his day, just to close them and realize he’d ruined the best thing in his life in a second of weakness? And now having her next to him again, knowing he can’t fix what he did?

“When were you planning to tell us you two broke up?”

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung, I know.”

“How… she told you?”

“Poor thing was crying the entire way to the airport. I told her I wouldn’t let her fly by herself if she was that upset until she explained.”

“What’d she say?”

“That you two broke up a few months ago but you didn’t want to disappoint us.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“You know Y/N, always keeps her cards close to her chest.” His mom looks at him from the corner of her eye. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I made a mistake.”

“If you two weren’t happy then it wasn’t a mistake.”

“But we were happy! She’s the one and I messed it up because I’m not good enough for her.”

“Where is that coming from?”

“I know you and dad wanted me to be an engineer like Myungho, okay? Even Kyungmin wants to be a lawyer! I’m the family disappointment. It only makes sense I’d disappoint Y/N too.”

Wooyoung’s mom is notorious for going under the speed limit, waiting to turn even if the oncoming car is five hundred feet away, and using her blinker religiously. Which is why Wooyoung thinks she’s having a seizure when she veers off the road and onto the shoulder like an F1 driver.

“You are not a disappointment! To me or your father or anyone. You are my son, and I have always been proud of that. I’ve seen you teaching, the way those kids look up to you. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to. And if my worrying has made you feel that way then I am so sorry. I’ll we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy sweetie.”

Crossing his arms, Wooyoung flicks away the beads of moisture tracing down his chin. “You’re my mom, you have to say that.”

“Well I’m not Y/N’s mom but I talk about her the same way.”

“Yeah well she’s a doctor, saving kids lives and all that.”

“You don’t think you do the same thing? Those kids come to school excited to learn because of you. Just because you’re not finding a cure for cancer doesn’t mean your job isn’t important. And Y/N isn’t disappointed with you either. She loves you, Wooyoung. Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?”

“Yeah, well I think it’s too late for that.” Wooyoung mumbles, eyes on the toes of his shoes.

“Maybe you should ask her if she thinks so.”

December 30th

Wooyoung

Rather than give into his impatience, Wooyoung stews on his mom’s advice. And each passing hour conveniences him more and more she’s wrong. Especially when San and Yeosang sit with him in their cramped living room, bottles of beer and empty takeout littering the coffee table.

“You’re pathetic.”

“Fuck you.” Wooyoung responds.

San, red faced and tipsy, slaps the leather armrests of the chair before rising.“Fuck you! You broke up with her over nothing and instead of trying to get her back you have a fucking pity party? Grow a pair.”

“She doesn’t want me!”

“Did you ask her?” 

“I don’t have to!”

“You’re an idiot.” Yeosang butts in.

Wooyoung knows his hesitation speaks for itself when Yoesang keeps talking.

“You can ask her to pretend you’re still dating but you can’t tell her you wanna get back together?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Yes it is!” San argues. “You love her right? You care about her?” San doesn’t continue until Wooyoung nods. “Then she has a right to know.”

“What if she says no?”

“Then she says no. Cross that bridge when you get there. You’re already broken up, how much worse can it get?”

Surprisingly, Wooyoung agrees. He sits forward, looking at his roommates before asking.“So what do I do?”

December 31st

Wooyoung

When Wooyoung’s messages go unanswered and his calls fall into the abyss of Y/N’s full voicemail box, pulls out Plan B.

Unfortunately, Plan B has no moral or ethical oppositions to castrating him.

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Lisa, please!” Wooyoung begs into the phone.

“No! Not once but twice I’ve had Y/N crying on my couch because of your dumbass. I’m not letting it happen again!”

“I need to talk to her. Please just help me!”

“What makes this time so different?”

“I—,” Wooyoung freezes. What does make this time different?

He hears Lisa sigh on the other end of the phone, almost as if she’s disappointed. “Just leave her alone, Wooyoung.”

And the line clicks dead.

Walking back into the kitchen from the worst call of his life, Wooyoung spots San’s downcast face while Yeosang watches him from the table; both clearly overhearing his exchange with Y/N’s best friend.

The vinyl table top shakes as Wooyoung drops his forehead down with a bang, groaning in frustration. 

“She’s working at NewYork-Presbyterian.” Yeosang mentions, returning to munch on his bowl of cereal.

“What?”

“Y/N works at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“How do you know that?”

Shrugging, Yeosang takes another bite and swallows before explaining. “She told me she got a job there when she was planning to move back.” 

Wooyoung has Yeosang’s shirt in his hands in a flash, nose to nose with his lifelong friend. Never in his life has Wooyoung been so furious with the man before him.

“You knew this whole time?” He bites, his eyes so wide with anger the whites show.

San is at Wooyoung's back, winding his arms around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him off their other roommate.

“You knew all of this and you didn’t fucking tell me? You’re my friend!” Attempting to shake him off, Wooyoung keeps pressing forward. 

Yeosang rises to his feet, hands wrapping around Wooyoung’s wrists and squeezing till the pain forces him to let go. “Yeah, and you’re acting like a real asshole right now!”

“Guys calm down!” San yells, managing to pull Wooyoung back now that he’s no longer attached to Yeosang’s shirt.

“Why didn't you say something?”

“You ended an eight year relationship out of the blue, I wasn’t about to let you get back with her just because you decided being single wasn’t your thing anymore.”

The words slap Wooyoung in the face. Even his own friend’s don’t trust him not to hurt Y/N anymore. “I’m not— I wouldn’t,”

“Come on, Woo. All you could talk about was how excited you were to ask her to marry you and then you come home and tell us you broke up with her. She’s my friend too and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

“Because you were desperate enough to call Lisa. If you fuck up again she’ll actually kill you.”

Wooyoung isn’t going to mess up again, not if he can help it. And if he does, he’ll walk straight into the river before Lisa can force him.

But for now, he focuses on getting Y/N to listen to his apology.

January 1st

Y/N

Chief complaint: Father reports patient’s fever and cough have become more severe since previous visit. Reports child is refusing solids but drinking well and taking soft foods such as apple sauce. Sleeping okay.

One of the residents pops her head into your office, “Dr. Y/L/N you have a delivery at the reception desk.”

“Thank you!” You call, not missing a beat as you continue your notes. 

Impression: Upper respiratory infection, right otitis media

Plan: Amoxicillin prescribed, five day follow up with p.r.n. at PCP.

Finishing your chart, you rise and head out towards the receptionist desk. A familiar bouquet of blush pink tulips greet you, a silk white ribbon knotted around the dip of the crystal vase. A small envelope is tucked into the spread, sending a terrified jolt through your system.

“I wish I had someone send me flowers as pretty as this!” Jessica sighs, eying the arrangement enviously.

“Yeah,” you laugh, unable to muster an ounce of false humor.

You snatch the bouquet before turning back the direction you came. 

Once back into the safety of your office, door shut and blinds drawn, you open the note.

If you don’t want to see me ever again, I’ll let you go. But I can't say enough how every time I ever put my arms around you I felt that I was home. I’ll be waiting at our spot on Saturday. As long as it takes.

–W

You don’t realize you’re crying until the ink of the note begins to bleed. 

January 3rd

Wooyoung

Wooyoung is the first customer to enter the cozy coffee shop overlooking the southeast entrance of Tompkins Square Park at nine a.m., claiming the tiny wobbly table off in the corner that provides the perfect view of the door. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. It feels wrong to scroll through his phone as he waits so he snags one of the artsy newspapers sitting on the counter while the surly barista prepares his order.

After an hour, adrenalin maintains the pleasant buzz through Wooyoung’s system, fueled further by espresso on an empty stomach. Each chime of the bell over the door results in awkward eye contact with a stranger that certainly isn’t his ex-girlfriend.

After three hours, his butt is numb and Wooyoung’s abandoned the newspaper he’s memorized. The NYT mini crossword archive isn’t as extensive as he thought.

After six hours, he’s had enough coffee to power a jet plane and his leg jitters aggressively. He’s started people watching through the window, making up stories for passersby entering the park and crossing the street. Half his heart hopes they’re happier than he is, the other half hopes he’s not alone in his misery.

When he’s been at the shop for eleven and a half hours, burned through every source of distraction possible and can describe in vivid detail the features outside the glass wall that separate the inside of the cafe from the sidewalk, Wooyoung accepts that she isn’t coming.

He stays till close, every minute that ticks on a drop in the bucket of regret in his heart. The barista starts stacking chairs, passive aggressively swiping the frayed broom in a ring around his table, so Wooyoung does the sensible thing and waits outside. 

The bitter wind wafting through the city finds home in his bones despite his thermals and padded parka. Wooyoung desperately clings to the tiny drop of hope still clinging to his heart. Shaking from the chill and overindulgence in caffeine Wooyoung watches as the clock hits nine. 

She isn’t coming.

She doesn’t want him back.

Wooyoung watches a couple laugh in each other's embrace across the street, clambering over one another in amused content. There was time that would have been him and Y/N, high from the intoxicating joy of one another’s presence and the city lights in the winter. Fingers interlocked as they trapeze through crowds, ignoring every other soul in favor of focusing on each other.

Eyes stinging, he turns to head for the train station but nearly shouts as spots the woman in question ten paces away.

Her hair is a mess, nose and cheeks blushing from the cold, breath obscuring her face as it fogs in the cool air. But she’s here, looking every bit unsure as he feels.

“Hi.” He says, dumbfounded.

“Hi.”

“You came.”

“I did.”

Wooyoung might faint. His heart is beating a mile a minute, breath shallow and labored. She’s here. She’s here and she’s looking at him like that. And the fear creeps into his pause.

“I’m sorry.” He warbles.

“I know.”

But she can’t so he says it again.

“I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

Because he can’t think of anything else. Nine hours of going over the grand speech about how he missed her and how breaking up with her was the greatest regret of his life flies out the window now that she’s in front of him and willing to listen.

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then talk to me, Woo.”

The only thing she’s ever asked him for is the truth. Wooyoung’s been so afraid that if he tells her how he truly feels, she’ll think less of him. That being so in love it terrifies you is disgusting, pathetic. 

“I don’t know where to start.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they opened.”

“Why?”

“Because if you came I didn’t want to miss you.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“Why did you?”

“Because—,” she pauses, shaking her head. “I don’t know.”

“I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Really?” She smiles apprehensively.

“Yeah, but now that you’re here I don’t remember any of it.”

“Then just tell me the truth, Woo.”

“I’m an idiot.”

Laughing at his outburst, she nods at him. “That’s a start.” 

And the space between them grows a little warmer.

“That night at dinner, when I went to the bathroom, I got an email.” Wooyoung starts, stepping closer. “I’d applied for a grad school program and I thought I was gonna get in but … I didn’t. And I think that and the nerves from proposing just caught up to me. I thought you’d want to stay in Boston after all and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to move back here. And it snowballed and all those feelings of not being good enough came back and— When you didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why or try to argue with me I thought it meant it’s what you wanted too.”

Shame flushes through him, a tsunami of disgust for allowing himself to think so poorly of her. Y/N never made him feel less than. The only person in their relationship who thought he wasn’t good enough for her was him and he let that destroy everything in a second of self doubt. 

“I tried to convince myself I did you a favor. That you’d be better off without me and you’d meet someone better. Find someone good enough for you. But I was wrong. I am wrong. There hasn't been a single day since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I try not to, you’re always in the back of my mind. And then I think about how selfish I am for wanting you back. But when it comes to you I’ve always been a little selfish because I love you. And—” he breaths for the first time. “And I don’t know how to be me without you.”

The humor is gone from Y/N’s face. Her beautiful eyes brim with tears, rimmed red not unlike his own; chin shaking. The wind is louder than ever now, cars wheel sloshing across the wet pavement crashing between them.

“Please say something.”

“How do I trust you again?” Her voice cracks, and it knocks the air from Wooyoung’s lungs.

“I don’t know.” Wooyoung looks at the ground, guilt-ridden.

Everything, all of the pain and heartbreak, was his fault. He dug them into this mess and now he doesn’t know how to get them out.

Y/N

Seeing Wooyoung, the man with an answer for everything, admit for once he doesn’t have an elaborate plan in motion to win you back is refreshing. You didn’t want Wooyoung who’d fix everything, Wooyoung who’d carry the burden of your relationship by himself even if it killed him. All you wanted was for him to tell you the truth.

And now that he has, you’re done being apart.

Nearly topping to the ground as you tackle Wooyoung in a fierce hug, you focus on inhaling his cologne and basking in the feel of his body pressed firmly against you. He barely manages to steady your combined weight, feet scrambling to regain his balance on the icy sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever do that shit to me again!” You yell, arms squeezing around his waist.

Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, clearly shocked at the turn of events. Rising out of his chest, you look at his gaping mouth and furrowed brows before his arms knot around your shoulders. 

“I missed you.” You whisper into the delicate kiss you land on his lips.

“I love you.” Wooyoung whispers back, forehead resting against your own.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

Four months later

Central Park in May is a bustle of people enjoying warm days following months of slushy snow and gray skies. Shrill screams bounce off the trees as children dart across the walkways, giggling groups of friends crowd around blankets on the greening grass, and a menagerie of dogs zigzag around their owners in the fresh air.

Today is a rare day where they both can spend interrupted hours lounging in one another’s presence, eager to make up for years of long distances and the months neither likes to talk about. Wooyoung woke Y/N with innumerable kisses across any sliver of skin his lips could find, basking in the knowledge today he’d finally ask the question hanging from the tip of his tongue since this time last year.

Sprawled across an old throw blanket, skin warming in the afternoon sunshine, a thick book obscures her face from view as Y/N rests her head in his lap. Wooyoung tries not to check his pocket for the millionth time this afternoon, ensuring the little velvet box is still there. He isn’t worried she’ll say no. But the phantom fear from the last time he planned to ask creeps up no matter how many affirmations he silently repeats in his head. But when she looks up at him, crinkled eyes visible just above the edge of the book pages hiding her smile, Wooyoung forgets all his worries.

Plucking the book from her grasp, he carefully marks her place before setting it down beside her hip. Wooyoung folds in half to silence her protesting “hey!” with a kiss, humming when she gives in all too easily. 

“I was reading that.” She mumbles as they separate.

“Wow, you’d rather read some smutty book than kiss your real life boyfriend?”

Laughing, she presses another peck to his mouth before answering.“Glad you understand.”

“What about your fiance?”

Y/N smile melts into shock, mouth gaping and staring at him like a deer in headlights.

Wooyoung smoothly maneuvers her up and out of his lap, pulling the jewelry box from his pocket as he kneels on a lone knee.

“Y/N. You’re my favorite person in the world. The only person I can ever imagine spending the rest of my life with. I love when you sing in the shower, and how you put way too much sugar in your coffee. I love how smart you are, and how you’re nice to everyone even if they don’t deserve it,  me included. And how everytime I look at you my palms get sweaty and that just thinking about you makes my day better. You are the love of my life. Will you marry me?”

Wooyoung is shaking so violently he fumbles the velvet box twice during his speech. He drops it a third time when Y/N tackles him in a fierce hug, tear filled laughter spilling from their lips and into the field where they lay. 

“Yes!” She squeals into his neck, “Yes, I’d love to marry you.”

At dinner with all their friends, he subconsciously holds Y/N’s hand so the diamond glints at anyone looking. When Wooyoung walks home, giggly from champagne and love, he kisses her knuckles a ridiculous amount of times just to feel the cool band under his lips. Once inside the doorway of her apartment, Wooyoung crowds Y/N against the door; his thumb focusing on the bevel of the diamond sitting on her ring finger as his other hand pushes the strap of her sundress off her shoulder so his tongue etch her collarbone from dip of her throat where the locket he gave her for their first Christmas together rests to under her ear. 

“So, future Mrs. Jung, now that we’re alone, how would you like to celebrate?” He asks, nipping against the sensitive skin she sighs, chest arching into his own.

“What if I wanna keep my last name?”

“Is that what you’re focusing on right now?” Wooyoung asks, a strong thigh moving between her parted legs.

“Yeah, future Mr.Y/L/N. I don’t think there’s anything else to discuss right n—fuck, Youngie.”

Wooyoun can’t help but giggle at her reaction, rocking again just to hear her moan his name once more. 

“What were you saying?”

“Don’t,” she huffs, whimpering at another torturous drag. Wooyoung can feel the heat of her cunt through her panties and his jeans. “Don’t be mean to your future wife.”

“Love when you talk dirty.” He bites, teeth raking against the strained muscle raising from the side of her neck.

“That turns you on? Calling me your wife?”

“Feel for yourself.”

“And if I call you my husband?”

Wooyoung doesn’t dignify her question with an answer other than sprinting to the bedroom to demonstrate just how much he likes the new name.

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[jaeyunbaeun]

ceilings - san

summary: pe teacher!san x single mom!reader. your kid is finally ready to go to school, and you're spiraling. thankfully, you find friendship with your kid's teacher and she becomes determined to become your best friend. simultaneously, she tries to set you up with the cute pe teacher, but you know him from somewhere deep within your past. can the truth come out without jeopardizing your future?

word count: 12.4k

warnings: afab reader so gendered terms, mentions of accidental pregnancy

masterlist

"violet, come on, we're gonna be late!" you shout to your daughter. it's her first day of kindergarten, her first day of real school, and you're so close to tears. you want to cry because your baby is growing up, because you won't get to cart your little mini me around with you everywhere now, because you're so stressed about getting her to school on time. it's been a rough morning, and your daughter taking her sweet time is not helping.

"i'm almost ready!" she shouts back from the bathroom, and you suppress a groan. what does a five year old have to primp for?

"one more minute and i'm dragging you to the car!" you threaten lightheartedly, knowing she'll only take it to mean she has a minute before you go and help her.

"i'm done," she says proudly as she appears in the doorway to the kitchen. hands on her hips she asks, "how do i look?"

"ridiculous," you laugh. "is that my shirt?"

"and my belt!" she defends herself. "i thought it was cute."

"it is cute, baby, but maybe you should wear something more comfortable for the first day?" you offer. you shuffle over to the laundry basket you left on the stairs and dig around for an outfit, handing your stubborn daughter some jeans and a sweater. "just wear something comfy today, and later this week you can dress silly."

"i wasn't dressed silly, i was dressed like you," violet mumbles, and you roll your eyes. your daughter definitely got your sass, and your stubbornness, but the resemblance kind of stops there. she's a spitting image of her father, a constant reminder of the mistake you made when you were younger. but it wasn't really a mistake, was it? if it brought you the one thing that's made you happier than anything before, it wasn't a mistake at all. violet was the best thing that ever happened to you, and again, the waterworks threaten to fall as you think about dropping her off for her first day of school. a day, you realize, you're late for.

"c'mon sugar, we gotta go!" you shout, grabbing her hello kitty backpack. "i've got your stuff, meet me in the car!"

-

you work close enough to violet's school that you can be one of those annoying carpool parents swarming the school grounds every day. while violet may hate it, you're so excited for all the memories that will come from these trips to and from school each day. like today, you'll always remember how violet started crying a few minutes down the road, claiming she didn't want to go to school because she didn't want to eat school lunch.

"it's not that bad, vi." you tell her as you peek at her through the rearview. "i remember loving some days of school lunch so much i would always go, even if i was sick."

"but you only liked some days," she sniffed. "what if i don't like any of the days?"

"then i'll pack you a lunch," you assure her. "just try it this week, every day, because some days will be better than others. then if you don't like any of it i'll start making your lunch. how does that sound?"

"okay," she nods, her sad little sniffles clearing up. "thank you mommy."

"we're almost there," you say quietly, more to yourself than to your daughter. "are you excited, sugar?"

"kinda," she admits. "i'm excited to see miss jen!"

"she's gonna be a great teacher," you agree. "you're gonna learn so much, and you're gonna have so much fun with her and all the friends you're gonna make. right?"

violet nods again, and you're satisfied for now. you're sure your baby is alright to go off to school for the first time, at least for the time being. surely there will be another thing to freak about later in the day, but for now you need to worry about navigating this carpool line. a man in workout clothes with a haggard looking traffic vest is directing traffic, and while you pass him, you feel your heart skip a beat.

it can't be him, right? there's no way he works here. it can't be. you keep driving, following the cones until you pull up to the sidewalk and a very kind looking teacher approaches your car with a soft smile.

"good morning!" he chirps. "i'm mr. kang, the librarian," he says as he stoops to peer through your window. his gaze goes to the backseat, asking violet, "are you ready for the best day ever?"

she nods shyly, and you watch as she undoes her car seat and slides out of the car with her too big book bag engulfing her frame as she walks away. you shout her name and she turns, a nervous look on her face.

"have a great day, my love!" you blow her a kiss for good measure, and you carry the way she smiles proudly with you for the rest of the day. the man in the traffic vest is all but forgotten, but he watches from afar in confusion. was he seeing things, or were you really here dropping off a kid? a kid, in fact, who looked exactly like he did at that age. weird, he thinks, but he shakes it off and continues directing traffic, wondering how he could find a way to introduce himself over the next few days.

-

when you were younger, your parents always supported you academically, but they were never involved with the school itself. pta meetings were not their thing, and it was a struggle getting them to take off work for a parent/teacher conference. you had decided early on that you would be one of those involved parents, one that knew your kid's teacher well and participated in room mom activities. you were texting violet's teacher last night, actually, asking if there was anything you could bring to help celebrate the first week, and she was eager to have the help.

she'd asked you to bring lollipops, so on thursday afternoon you're searching for a parking spot before school lets out. you were going to drop the goodies off at violet's classroom and help jen with the goody bags during dismissal, quick and easy. except, an intimidating figure walking toward your car may not make this process as easy as you'd have hoped.

san saw your car pull up and immediately stepped out into the parking lot. as the unofficial carpool guardian, one of his daily jobs is stopping parents who try to cheat the system by taking up faculty spots so they can be first in line. san didn't know it was you or he would've approached with a different demeanor, but today was rough. he had at least two criers per class and one kid who ran so hard after lunch he puked outside san's office. he wasn't in the mood to deal with a privileged parent, so he lets out a deep sigh as he approaches your now open window.

"ma'am you can't park here-" he starts, but as soon as his eyes meet yours he chokes on his words. "y/n?"

"hi san," you smile shyly, heartbeat racing. "so i can't park here? there weren't any guest spots out front, and i need to take something to vi's class-"

"vi?" san questions, and you let out a deep sigh of your own.

"violet," you tell him. "my..my daughter."

"i thought that was you the other day," san admits, and you nod in confirmation. "well, um, if you're just coming to drop something off, you're all good, you can leave your car-"

"oh really? i can move, it's no problem-"

"no, no, don't worry about it-"

"are you sure?" you ask, finally stopping the awkward back and forth. "you won't tattle?"

"pinky promise," san laughs, holding your door for your as you get out. "but i'd sneak out before carpool starts up if i were you, it'll be hard to pull out once the lot fills up."

"got it," you nod graciously, slipping your hand into the backseat to grab the bag of candy. san is still standing there, so you clear your throat and try to leave. "well, thanks for letting me-"

"no worries-"

"it was good seeing you-"

"yeah, yeah..." san trails off. once you're a few feet away he calls your name. you turn to see what he needs, and he thinks about it before shrugging. "never mind," he says. "it was nice to see you."

"bye san," you manage to get out before you turn the corner, hands sweaty and heart doing funny flips in your chest.

you hadn't told violet about your visit, so when jen lets you into the room you hear an excited squeal followed by a pair of small arms wrapped around your legs. violet looks up at you proudly, a spot of something on her cheek. you forget sometimes, just how much she looks like san, but your exchange outside has him fresh on the brain. she has his smile. you shake the thoughts from your head and try to take a step, but violet won't budge.

"hey sugar," you laugh, ruffling her hair with your free hand. "go back to your seat, school's not over yet."

"but-"

"violet, do you want to show your mom where to put the bags she brought?" jen offers, and you send her a thankful look. violet tugs on your hand, bringing you over to the "treasure box" which is really just a filing cabinet jen must have filled with candy and toys. violet shows you each drawer, and you make her look away as you place the candy in it's appropriate drawer so it won't ruin the surprise for now. satisfied with her work, violet goes back to her seat as the bell rings for dismissal. you organize some of the other things you brought on jen's desk as she goes over reminders for the class, and then the first few rounds of students start leaving.

"thanks for bringing all this," jen says as she joins you.

"do you need help putting them together?" you ask, and she thinks for a moment.

"no, i don't want to keep you," she starts.

"well, i think i'm stuck for a while anyway," you inform her. "i had to park in a faculty spot, and carpool-"

"oh yeah, you're definitely stuck," jen laughs. "let me get everything set up, and then you can start while i help the rest of the kids leave, if you don't mind?"

"not at all!" you assure her, looking out to find violet watching you both like a hawk. "do you think we'll need another set of hands though?" jen follows your gaze and laughs before waving violet over. the three of you get everything set up, and you ask violet about her day as jen organizes the next group of kids for bus call.

"it was good!" violet says happily. "i liked lunch today."

"what did they have?"

"chicken sammiches," she says, and you laugh.

"sandwiches, baby," you tell her. "sammiches is a me and you word, but some people may not know what that means."

"i like chicken sandwiches and chicken sammiches," she nods. "and then we had pe and a boy in my class threw up. he had pizza."

"gross," you crinkle your nose. "you liked pe though?"

"yeah, it was fun!" violet goes off on a tangent about all the games, and jen rejoins you to help finish the bags. the three of you fall into comfortable conversation with violet as the life of the party. you like jen, you find yourself thinking. you hope it's not weird to be friends with your kid's teacher, because you could really use one here. you're lost in that thought, so you don't notice when someone appears in the doorway.

"mr. choi!" violet chirps, abandoning her task and rushing to meet him. never met a stranger, your child, because she's tugging his hand and bringing him over to you. "this is mommy."

"that's not her name though, is it violet?" jen asks, ever the teacher.

"y/n," san nods, and you don't miss the way jen looks from you to san to violet and back again. "did you get tricked into staying late?"

"no, i offered," you reply. "but i didn't have a choice, i didn't listen to your advice and couldn't leave before carpool started."

"you're all good now," he says, holding up his reflective vest all crumpled in his big hand. "just sent the last kid home."

"good to know," you nod. "vi, where's your stuff? we'll leave soon."

"no!" she whines. "i don't wanna leave!"

"don't you want a snack though?" you tempt her, and that sends the mini menace into motion.

"to what do i owe the pleasure of you stinking up my classroom, choi?" jen asks.

"i wanted to talk to you about the kid that threw up today," he says, and you must look at him confused because he asks you if anything's wrong.

"are you the pe teacher here?"

"yep," he answers. "i didn't know this was your violet," he says, nodding his head toward your kid. "she's a sweetheart. ball of energy too."

"you're telling me," you smile softly. violet walks over then, informing you that she's ready to go. you ask jen if there's anything else you can do, but she insists on you taking violet home.

"you've helped enough, believe me," jen tells you. "i'll see you tomorrow violet!"

"bye miss jen!" violet says with a smile. "bye mr. choi! i hope no one pukes on you tomorrow!"

jen waits for you and your kid to be far enough down the hall before she asks calmly. "so. how do you know y/n?"

"we, uh, we go way back," san says. "went to school together, college, all that."

"oh, so you like, really know her," jen says, a plan brewing in her head. she saw the way san looked at you. she also knows you're single. "you didn't know her kid went here?"

"didn't know she had a kid at all," san shakes his head, and he seems to get lost in a thought before he remembers what he came here for. "anyway, this kid today, you gotta tell him not to eat so much before pe..."

-

you and san didn't grow up together, exactly, but you have known him since high school. you floated around similar groups of friends, so you hung out regularly without ever getting too close. it wasn't until college that you actually became friends. you both went to a local school, at least as local as you can get for your small town. living in a city all by yourself was intimidating, but you weren't worried about not making friends. you knew they would come.

the day of your orientation, san saw you sitting by yourself in the auditorium and immediately recognized you. he brushed off his sweaty hands before walking over and softly calling your name. when you registered who he was, you smiled and invited him to sit next to you. both happy to see a familiar face, you spent the rest of orientation attached at the hip. in fact, you spent the rest of your time at school like that. san was your best friend, nothing more. he didn't always feel that way, but he did a good job of hiding his feelings. he was able to hide how he felt about you all the way up to the final semester of your senior year.

you were thriving, one of those seniors itching to finish school and get out into the real world. you knew you were just months away from a successful career, and you wouldn't let anything get in your way. you liked that you didn't know what was coming next or where you would end up after graduation. the prospect of moving to a new city, hell, maybe a new country, was exciting. this restlessness is what made san speak up. he was ready to graduate too, sure, but he was ready to get out of the city. san always wanted to be a teacher, and he already had offers all across the state, but the only job he cared about was in his hometown. it's where he wanted to be, and he knew that if he didn't tell you how he felt now, he may never get the chance. he wanted you to know so he could at least have a chance with you, even for a little while.

so he confessed, one night early in the semester. he was walking you home, his dorm only a few doors down from yours. at the door to your dorm he pulled you into a hug, which was normal for him. san was always a touchy friend, but what he said as he pulled away still bounces around in your head.

"y/n, i think i'm in love with you," he said earnestly. you looked in his eyes, trying to find the beginnings of a smile, some hint of a secret, that this was a joke. but he was serious. when you didn't say anything he shrugged, stepped away, and added, "i just wanted you to know."

you still don't know if it was shock or fear that kept you from saying anything that night, from calling his name and pulling him back in. but you didn't say anything then, you didn't say anything for months. san pretended like it never happened, and you just went along.

it didn't come up again until the going away party at the end of the year. school was over, finals done, and graduation was days away. everyone wanted to celebrate the past four years and freak out over what was next, all sharing where they were going and how scared they were. san was moving back home to be a teacher and wasn't scared at all. you were leaving for a bigger and better city the day after graduation and you were terrified.

later, san pulled you to the side and asked if you were ok. you knew he was referring to the job stuff, but you had other things on your mind. you were a little tipsy, so you decide that's why you leaned in and kissed him. it was quick, soft, barely a kiss, but you did it. you kissed him and pulled back faster than san could think, his eyes still closed when you parted and said, "i just wanted to know what it would feel like."

you were able to avoid him for the rest of the party, enjoying your last few hours with some of your best friends. you had an early morning, so you stopped drinking before everyone else and found yourself as a designated walker at the end of the night. you and san were elected to walk a few friends back to their dorms, dropping them off as you passed each building on your own walk home. inevitably, you were left alone with san at your door like that night months ago. san looked like he wanted to say something, and you didn't want him to leave, so instead of separating at the door you invited him in.

you'll never forget that night, and neither will san. but with your paths parting in a few days, you thought it would be something you could move on from eventually. a few weeks later, in your new city, at the perfect job, you found out you were pregnant. it hurt, the decision to not tell san, but the thought of stopping your life before it even started hurt more. you figured you would never see san again, or that you could at least keep the kid a secret if you ever hung out with your college friends again. you never thought that you'd somehow end up moving your daughter to the neighborhood where san grew up, or that the great school you fought to enroll her in could possibly be where san currently worked. but that's life, isn't it? or fate. or maybe just dumb luck. whatever it was, the universe was trying to get you to tell the truth and you're not sure you're ready to do that. to yourself, to violet, or to san.

-

san can't stop thinking about you. he tries so hard to catch a glimpse of you during carpool, but he's too busy focusing on a million other things and never manages to find you. he tries to think about how he could use violet to talk to you, like sending a note home with her, but that's inappropriate. he needs to see you again, though. that's when he gets an idea.

you and jen have become genuine friends, which has made things confusing for violet only because she treats jen like her teacher in casual settings. you met up for dinner the other night and violet raised her hand to ask jen a question, so hopefully she'll get used to it. san knows you two are close, and he knows if he asks jen about you she'll tell him whatever he wants to know.

at lunch one day he finds jen in the teacher's lounge and motions to the empty seat at her table. she lets him sit, but warns, "wooyoung saved the other seats for himself, so leave now if you want to."

wooyoung, one of the third grade teachers, was actually one of san's best friends. he's a hand full, yes, but fiercely loyal and caring. san doesn't necessarily want him to hear the conversation he wanted to have with jen, but oh well. as soon as san has that thought, wooyoung is bursting through the door with a stack of plastic containers from the lunchroom in his arms.

"m'lady," he nods to jen as he passes her a container. he looks to san and asks, "you want one bro?"

"what's in it?" san asks skeptically, and wooyoung shows off a stack of chicken sandwiches. "seriously?"

"hey, they're really good," jen pipes up. "the kids are lucky they get to eat these."

"how did you get so many?" san asks wooyoung as he takes a sandwich anyway.

"flirted with the lunch ladies."

"course you did," jen rolls her eyes, taking a bite of the sandwich. she chuckles to herself, and then shares, "you know, there's a kid in my class who calls these sammiches? no matter how many times you correct her, she won't say anything else. she told me this morning she didn't want to come to school, but she did because it was sammich day."

that's violet. san knows it is. he heard a snippet of your conversation in jen's classroom weeks ago, but he also knows he's heard violet say something similar when she comes to the gym. she loves those sandwiches, and san must admit, now that he's tried one he gets the hype. this is his shot though, he thinks to himself. he clears his throat and asks, "that's y/n's girl right?"

"who's y/n?" wooyoung asks, and jen responds, "san's girlfriend."

"no she's not," san says quickly. "she's kidding."

"you like her though?" wooyoung smirks, and san shakes his head.

"i-it's not like that," san explains. "i knew her a long time ago, and haven't seen her for a few years. that's all."

"so what about her?" jen asks.

"what do you mean?"

"well you brought her up," jen laughs. "you want me to tell her you asked about her? that feels very elementary of you, san."

"no, no, i was just, uh," san racks his brain for a response, "um, she's your room mom right? i may need to talk to her, for um, uh, field day."

"sure," jen nods. "i can give you her number, if you don't have it?"

"yeah, yeah," san nods too, "sure, if you think that'll be ok. i mean, i just needed to ask something, really quick, but, um, sure, yeah."

"if you really need to talk to her, she's coming in tomorrow i think," jen says, checking her phone. "yeah, tomorrow is violet's birthday, so y/n is bringing cupcakes at lunch. you can just stop by my class table and ask her whatever you need to ask her."

"oh, cool, great," san nods. wooyoung and jen share a quiet laugh, noticing that san seems like a bobblehead nodding so nervously. "yeah, tomorrow. lunch tomorrow. i'll be here."

-

you're running late. it's your kid's frickin birthday and you're late. you wanted to be supermom, make cupcakes from scratch, but work has been crazy on top of all the prep for violet's party, and you're just one woman. you can't do all of this by yourself, and it's times like these that you wish...no. that's not where you're going to let your mind wander today. today is all about violet, so as you rush out of the grocery store, you handle the store bought cupcakes with intense care. you can't be late and show up with smushed cupcakes.

thankfully this town is small enough that everything is within spitting distance, so you arrive at violet's school with just a few minutes left in her lunch. you hurry through the check in, rushing off to where you hope the lunchroom is. it would be just your luck to get lost right now, but you let out a breath of relief when you turn the corner and see the cafeteria ahead. you have to pause at the door to look for her class, and you hold back a sob when you see one very broad shouldered man sitting next to your beautiful daughter. you manage to walk up without violet seeing you, but at the sound of your footsteps, san turns. he smiles at you softly and he looks so much like violet it hurts. your eyes drift to your daughter, who's noticed you now and bounces in her seat.

"hey birthday girl," you say meekly, clearing your throat before you speak again. "how's your day been?"

"good!" violet smiles, showing you a half eaten vanilla cupcake with purple icing. "mr. choi brought me birthday cake!"

"aw, that's sweet," you say, looking to san. he's staring at you intensely as you ask, "did you tell him thank you?"

"i did!" violet confirms, but she turns to san and repeats, "thank you, it was yummy."

"do you have room for another?" you ask her, holding up the cupcakes you brought. violet already looks ready to bounce off the walls, so you'll have to apologize to jen later, but you ask if she wants to help pass out cupcakes to her friends. you hold the containers as she carefully hands out the treats, and you're pleased to know there were plenty of cupcakes for everyone. actually, there's some left over, so you start packing them up to take home but violet stops you.

"mommy, we need to give mr. choi one," she tells you, and you look to san sheepishly. "and there's one for you too, mommy!"

"i guess we're having cupcakes," you chuckle with san, offering him one of the last two cupcakes. "vi, can i take your spot?" she nods eagerly, letting you sit on the hilariously tiny lunch chair. you struggle balancing on it and look up to see san watching, trying not to laugh. violet is oblivious though, icing smeared all over her face as she talks to her friend across the table. "hey, no laughing. it's been a long day."

"sorry," san says, the remnants of a smile still on his face. "you doing alright?"

"i'm fine," you sigh slightly. you look at san again, really look at him, and you feel your heart constrict. "thank you for bringing her a cupcake."

"oh, sure," san says. "i didn't want to overstep, but jen told me yesterday, and i figured violet could at least take it home, but when i got here and didn't see, uh...you weren't here-"

"you can say it, i was late to my own kid's birthday," you laugh, rubbing your hand over your face. san finds himself staring at your fingers and something pops into his head.

"and again i ask, you doing alright?" he laughs with you. "being a parent must be hard."

"it has its bad days," you admit. "but for every bad day there's hundreds of good ones, so it makes the whole single parenting thing a little easier."

there it is. single. san looks down to your hands again, and has to hide his satisfied smirk. there's no ring.

"so, what-" san starts to ask, but the bell dings and the cafeteria erupts in even more sound. students talking, teachers yelling, chairs scraping as everyone is set in motion. jen walks over then, smiling when she sees you and san sat so close together. she waves hello before calling for her class, and you give violet a big squeezey hug and a kiss on the forehead before she takes her food and runs off. san watches you watching violet, and now it's his turn for his heart to twist. he's missed you. a lot.

"i guess i better go," you say as you gather all of the cupcake trash. san covers his hands over yours, stilling your movements and your heart, and says, "let me, i'll clean up."

"th-thank you san," you say shyly, and he waves you off. he can feel your eyes on him as he walks to the trash cans, and he can't help it, when he turns around he pulls a face that used to always make you laugh. his success rate is still high, because a beautiful giggle appears from deep within your chest, and then san is standing back in front of you. you know him, and you know there's something he wants to say, so you ask, "are you doing alright?"

"i'm fine," he nods, and you playfully push his shoulder. he smiles as he goes on, "actually, i was thinking about it, and i'll need your new number. for field day purposes, of course."

"oh," you breathe. "oh, right. room mom stuff. um, well unless you deleted my contact info, my number is the same."

"oh."

"yeah."

"right, then i guess i'm good," san says, looking around for any last bits of trash. "always good seeing you, y/n. tell violet happy birthday again from me."

"will do," you squeak out, calling out your thanks to him one last time as he walks away. you're left in the now silent lunchroom, heart and mind racing.

-

"i'm just saying, you and san would make a cute couple," jen repeats for what feels like the millionth time today. she's come over to your house early to help set up violet's birthday party, and you're thankful for the help but wishing the set up was less obvious. "you already know each other, so it's not like you'd have to go through that awkward dating phase-"

"did we put balloons on the mailbox already?" you cut through her words, grabbing a couple pink and purple balloons from the pile on the table. "i'll do that now, so people know which house it is. if vi wakes up, tell her i'll make birthday pancakes as soon as i'm done."

"will do," jen salutes you, taking the remaining balloons into the living room. "i'll tack these to the ceiling or something."

"please don't!" you call out before you shut the door, and you take a deep breath when you're outside alone. you don't know how to make jen stop talking about san, and it's draining. you've tried changing the subject and she always finds a way to bring san back into it. she means well, you know that. but what she doesn't know is that everything she says about san just rubs salt in the wound you inflicted on yourself, and it's getting harder to ignore. you're either going to snap and tell her to shut up, or you're going to snap and admit to what you've been hiding. either option isn't ideal, so fingers crossed violet wakes up soon and you can use her as a buffer.

tying the balloons to your mailbox ended up being more of an ordeal than you thought, so it takes you a while to trudge back into the house. you're tired already and the party hasn't started yet. you're making another cup of coffee when you realize the house is quiet, no sounds of jen and no sounds of vi. you let the coffee pot run as you walk around in search of the girls, and you hear a faint noise coming from the backyard. a peek through the window shows jen and violet running streamers from the back porch to vi's playset, and your heart warms. while they're outside, you get to work on the birthday pancakes in peace. you're almost done with them when you get a call, groaning to yourself thinking it's a parent calling about the party. you don't check the name before you answer, letting out a perfectly nice, "hello?"

"y/n, hi," san says on the other line. "is this a bad time?"

"um, n-no," you stammer, "it's um, no, i can talk. just for a minute."

"if you're busy i can call back-"

"no, san, go ahead," you insist. "just be warned i'm making pancakes, so i am a little distracted."

"oh yeah, you used to suck at those," san teases, and for a moment you're thrown back to college. you remember san staying over at your dorm, claiming he was too drunk to walk the fifteen steps down the hall. you let him crash on your floor, and he woke up to an awful hangover and the sound of you cursing over your batch of blackened pancakes. trying to be nice, san tried one anyway. you'll never forget the way you both belly laughed after he lied and said they were good with a look of fear in his eyes. later he admitted he'd never had something so bad, and you swore to never make pancakes again. san obviously remembers, because he asks, "what made you stop the pancake ban?"

"they're for vi's birthday."

"her birthday was on tuesday i thought?"

"yeah, but we're having her party today," you explain, and then you clap your hand to your forehead. you shouldn't have said anything.

"oh then i won't keep you," san says quickly. there's something strange in his voice, but you're so far removed from him that you can't pick up on it. "i hate to call about school stuff on the weekend, but this is the only time i had..."

while san explains the reason for his call (room mom duties + he missed you, but he leaves that part out), jen and violet come in from the backyard. streamers are done, and violet is wearing a torn one around her neck like a scarf. you wave her over for a hug and a kiss, and jen mouths, "who are you talking to?" so you show your phone screen. she gasps when she sees it's san, and it's like you're watching a lightbulb spring from her head. she's got an idea.

"invite him to the party!" jen hisses, and you push her away.

"is that the birthday girl?" san asks, and there's a softness in his voice that makes you melt. "do you need to go?"

"no, just one of the birthday elves being annoying," you grumble, trying to elbow away from jen but she grabs your phone anyway and says a cheery hello to her coworker.

"hey san! happy saturday," she starts off. "listen, are you doing anything around, say, one o'clock?"

"uh, not that i can think of-"

"great! then i'll have y/n text you her address, you should come to violet's party. there's plenty of food, and we'd love to see you!" jen says with an evil smile plastered on her face.

"um, can you hand me back to y/n?" san asks, and jen relinquishes your phone then disappears.

"san, you do not have to come if you don't want to, jen is-"

"jen's what!?" jen shouts from somewhere within your house.

"i want to come," san says, and you're so surprised you almost drop the pancake you're trying to flip. "if that's ok."

"i..." you trail off, and then you look at violet. sweet, lovely violet. you would do anything for that girl, but you know she deserves more. she deserves both parents, and the little part of you that's been wondering if san's reappearance was a sign is the part that wins you over. you say, "yeah, come to the party. i want you here."

"then i'm there," san says, and you can hear his smile. "should i bring a present?"

"no, god, don't worry about that. girl's spoiled already, she doesn't need another toy," you tell him, and san laughs.

"alright. then text me the address, and i'll see you soon i guess."

"yeah, see you soon," you mumble as you hang up and look around for jen. she's rightfully hiding somewhere, but violet's voice distracts you as she asks who you were talking to. "well sugar, i have an extra birthday surprise for you," you say as you plate her pancakes. "mr. choi might be coming to your party, is that ok?"

"mr. choi?!" violet shrieks as she stands in her chair. you remind her not to do that and she listens, but she looks at you and asks, "for seriously? he's my favorite teacher."

"hey," jen whines as she rejoins you, throwing away the remnants of wrapping paper in her hands. "and to think i got you the biggest coolest birthday present ever."

"really?" you and violet ask in unison, and jen nods enthusiastically at your daughter. when she joins you at the sink she whispers, "i didn't go overboard."

"yes you did," you whisper back.

"what did san want?" jen asks with that evil smile again, and you try to elbow her side but she darts away too quickly.

"i had told him about the game the kinder moms wanted our grade to do for field day, and he forgot what supplies it needed," you explain. "so he was calling about that, and the call was almost over when someone interrupted."

"y/n, listen," jen says sternly, and you both look over to violet to make sure she's distracted. jen keeps her voice down as she continues, "he likes you. don't ask me how i know, but i know. and the way you get so nervous around him, i know it sounds childish, but i think you have a crush on him-"

"jen," you say seriously. "please stop. you don't know what you're doing."

"no, y/n, you don't know what you're doing!" jen says, and you step back. "no, i don't mean it like that. i just mean, you said you were having a hard time doing this on your own. it may not be my place, but i think san could help. he'd be good for you and violet."

"you remember how san and i were friends years ago?" you ask, and jen nods, about to add to her case, but you cut her off. "we were close. really close."

"did you kiss?" jen asks excitedly and you roll your eyes.

"will you focus?" you smile anyway, and add, "we spent most of our time together, but then life stuff changed. we went in completely different directions, and it was just easier to say goodbye and go our separate ways. that was five years ago. well, six, now i guess," you correct yourself, your eyes betraying you as they flick back over to violet.

"oh my god," jen gasps. "no."

"yes."

"no way."

"yes."

"you're a liar."

"mommy's not a liar," violet chimes in, and you let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. "miss jen, that wasn't very nice."

"i'm sorry violet, you're right," jen says calmly. she looks closely at violet and then to you. "but sometimes what's right is hard to do."

"i know that," you sigh. "believe me. but we can talk about this later."

"you bet your ass we are!"

"miss jen!"

"sorry, sorry!"

-

you and jen do a good job of ignoring the truth bomb you set off just before guests started arriving, but knowing san will be here soon keeps you on edge all day. violet is having the time of her life, which takes a little bit of pressure off of you at least. you just have to play host to your family and friends all while keeping one eye on the door for san.

he arrives just past one. you heard the doorbell from the backyard, but as you're walking through the house you see your aunt opening the door for him. it opens to a stunning version of the man you've tried so hard to hide from, and just looking at him makes you blush. he's dressed casually, but nicer than the work out clothes you see him in at the school. jeans and a sweater, and glasses. san never wore glasses in school, and you're wondering why this news is making your stomach flip. when san finds you, his face lights up. he makes his way around a group of kids and pulls you into a polite hug, mumbling his greeting into your hair. you wish time would stop for a moment, let you stay in his hold a second longer. but he's pulling away and shyly presenting a gift bag, his sheepish eyes saying "sorry but not sorry."

"i told you not to bring anything," you scoff, taking the gift over to the present table anyway.

"it's something small, but i think she'll like it," san says, and you thank him. it's awkward for a second as you both search for something to say, but in the quiet san reaches to push his glasses further up his nose and you smile.

"so you getting old, choi?" you tease him, pointing to the glasses. "how long have you needed those for?"

"just a couple years," san shrugs. "i don't mind them, but it's easier to wear contacts at work. i actually like the way they look."

"they're cute," you agree, and you feel your heart thudding in your chest as san processes the compliment. he looks around your house then, and he distractedly puts an arm around you in another hug as he says, "your house is great, by the way. you've really made a life for yourself, y/n." he looks at you while he says the next part, "i hope you're proud of yourself."

"i am," you nod, suddenly very aware of how many people are here and possibly looking at you two. you feign a cough and san gets the hint. he pulls away and you immediately feel cold, but you catch a glimpse of jen eyeing you in the corner of the room. you shake off whatever was distracting you because of the man at your side, and you're about to excuse yourself to find violet when the woman in question appears below you.

"mr. choi!!!" she shouts as she jumps in place. "you're here!"

"i am!" he replies, holding hands and jumping with violet. "are you having fun?"

"yeah! cmere, i wanna show you my swings!" she says excitedly, and then san is being dragged outside. you follow at a safe distance, wanting to see how they interact without making it too obvious you're watching san and not your kid. some of the school kids present recognize a big kid in san and soon he's got a whole herd following him around. you laugh seeing him be so silly, so freely himself with these kids, and you wonder if this is what he's like as a teacher. then you find your mind wandering to what san would be like as a dad. you know he'd be great, so what are you doing?

you know you have to tell him. you see the way violet is smiling and laughing, and you can't keep this kind of joy from her anymore. you don't know when, and you don't know how, but you will tell san that he's the father of your daughter.

-

violet's birthday party was perfect. she had an amazing time, her friends had an amazing time, and you had an amazing time. with san. he fit back into your life perfectly, and as you were saying your goodbyes at the end of the night, you had the intense desire to kiss him. you didn't, but that's only because jen came over with a sleepy violet that she thrust into your arms. you and san were cooing over the tired party girl and jen inconspicuously snapped a picture of the three of you. you and san, looking down at violet with so much love in your eyes, and violet smiling her biggest smile. jen texted it to you later and you were grateful to have this moment captured forever.

you were staring at that photo now, waiting for violet to finish getting ready for school. you weren't really paying attention to the time, caught up in admiring san. you felt a sense of calm and safety when you thought of him, looked at him, and you're kicking yourself for keeping that same feeling from violet's life. you were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn't hear violet walk up, so you almost jumped out of your skin when she says, "whatcha doooin?" directly into your ear.

"oh baby you scared me," you gasp. she giggles and points to your phone.

"you were staring at mr. choi!"

"i was not," you roll your eyes, but she nods and goes, "yeah huh."

"i'm not getting into a yeah huh nuh uh fight with you right now," you say as you ruffle her hair. "you ready for school?" it's then that you give her a once over and screw your face up in confusion. "where's that shirt from? i don't remember buying you that."

"it was my gift from mr. choi, 'member?" violet says proudly as she shows it off.

"yeah, yeah, i guess i do," you reply. "you wanted to wear it to school?"

"so i can tell him thank you," she says simply, and you place a soft kiss on her forehead. your sweet girl.

"i'm sure he'll be happy to see it. c'mon, let's go."

-

san had an awful morning. none of the classes would listen to him, half of his equipment for this unit was broken or missing, and apparently he was getting evaluated this afternoon. nothing was wrong, it was just protocol, but why did he find out about it two hours before it was supposed to happen? he was stressed, unprepared, and wearing a t shirt that apparently has a hole in the armpit. one of the unruly classes so kindly pointed that out for him. so yeah, it's been a bad day. that's why he sat down at lunch with a huff, interrupting whatever jen and wooyoung had been talking about prior to his dramatic entrance.

"what's wrong with you?" wooyoung asks bluntly, and san scoffs.

"one of those days where i'm considering child abandonment."

"san!" jen gasps.

"i'm joking, chill out," he sighs. "i just. can today be over? i'd like it to be over. or can i get a redo? that might be better, considering i have an eval today i know i'm not gonna pass."

"if you go into it like that then duh you're gonna do bad," jen says. "but it hasn't even happened yet, so why be so negative?"

"whatever," san huffs again, poking at his food like it's the root of his bad day. "how has your day been."

"great, my kids are angels and i love my job," wooyoung jokes, so san kicks him under the table.

"your class was the first one to put me in a bad mood this morning."

"yeah, because i told them i accidentally killed our class pet."

"wooyoung!" jen gasps again.

"accidentally!"

"how'd you manage that?" san asks with the beginnings of a smile on his face. not that he was laughing over the death of a very tiny pet, no. but he did enjoy seeing wooyoung making mistakes. makes the world go round, he thinks.

"i forgot to take it home for the weekend and i came in this morning to bob the beta fish belly up," wooyoung explains. he raises his carton of strawberry milk in a toast, which san and jen play along with. "he didn't live long, i didn't like him, and the kids barely knew he was there. bob, may you rest in peace."

"this isn't making me feel better," san whines as they clink their drinks together.

"oh!" jen says happily, "i have something!" she shuffles around looking for her phone, and excitedly pulls something up for san to see. she shoves the screen so close to his face he can barely see anything, so he takes her phone and blinks to let his eyes adjust. he smiles immediately when he realizes it's the picture of him, you, and violet. he's so mesmerized by your beauty, all these years later, that it takes him a minute to shift his focus to the equally beautiful violet squeezed between you. she's perfect, san thinks. if he had a kid, he'd want her to be just like violet: kind, funny, full of energy and life.

"who is that?" wooyoung asks, pushing his face close to san's to catch a glimpse. "ooo, is that your milf?"

it's jen's turn to kick him underneath the table, but san must admit, that was a little funny. he doesn't answer right away, though. something about the picture has caught his attention.

"no," jen says sternly since san has gone mute. "that's my friend y/n and her kid violet, we've talked about them before. san came to her birthday party this weekend."

"the milf?!"

"no!" jen repeats. "violet. i helped y/n with the party, and since she and san go way back, i kinda invited san without her knowing."

"nice," wooyoung nods. "good. get him into the house, and then into her heart. maybe the pants too-"

"dude," san finally cuts in. "what's wrong with you?"

"you two are boring me," he sighs. "sue me if i wanted to have a little fun with our conversation."

"you took this?" san asks jen, ignoring wooyoung now. she says yes, so he asks, "can i send it to myself? do you think y/n would mind?"

"no, i think that's fine," jen replies with a smile. "go ahead."

"thanks," san mumbles, typing his number in quickly to send the photo. he doesn't want to seem weird, sitting here staring at it, but there's still something he can't quite put his finger on. something familiar about it. not quite deja vu, but like he's seen this before. he hands jen's phone back to her, and she continues some inane argument with wooyoung as san checks his phone. huh, he thinks, taking one last look at the photo as he saves it to his library. violet sure has a nice smile.

-

san's day does not get better. the evaluation was mediocre at best, but the assistant principal doing the visit pulled him aside and promised better equipment in the new year. at least one good thing came out of this awful day.

well, two good things. san keeps opening his phone just to stare at that picture of himself with you and violet. his desire to patch things up with you only continues to grow, and he's been thinking about you so much that he swears he hears your voice calling his name at the end of the day. then a squeakier, tinier voice joins in, and san realizes, oh shit, you and violet are in his office.

"hey, sorry," he shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "god, sorry. how long were you standing there?"

"not long," you assure him. "i hope we're not bothering you?"

"not at all," he says as he stands. violet runs up to him then, turning from side to side with her hands clasped in front of her. san laughs, looking from her to you as he asks, "what's going on?"

"vi had a surprise for you, and she forgot she didn't have pe today so she got into the car crying because you didn't get to see it," you explain. "we turned around as soon as i got the story, and now we're here. do you recognize her shirt at all?"

"oh my god!" san smiles, violet joining in. san bends down to pick her up and swings her around to the sound of giggles. "you're wearing my present! do you like it?"

"i do!" she chirps, hiccuping a little as the giggles continue. san slows and carefully places her back down as she says, "thank you for coming to my party."

"thank you for inviting me," san replies, and you realize he's talking to you. you consider telling him now, you can feel his gaze pulling the words right out of you, but you chicken out.

"thank jen," you remind him. "she's the one who ambushed me."

"ambush?" san laughs nervously. "i hope me coming over wasn't an ambush."

"i shouldn't have said that," you shake your head. "i just." you take a deep breath. "it's been hard, you know, seeing you again. getting used to you being back in my life."

"happy to be here," san says coolly, and you pick up on the undertones. you knew he must have been upset with you, only wanting him when you couldn't have him. he'd given you so many chances to be his, but you grasped the last one. san was mad at himself first, and he's not mad at you per se, but the memory of that still hurts. he could have been in your life, violet's life, this whole time. it was you who kept the door bolted shut. now it's like there's little cracks filtering in bits of sunlight, and you're basking in them. you're just afraid that the warmth you feel from san now will burn you someday, that your past will be too hard to get over, and you can't tell him about violet until you know how he really feels.

"listen, we should go, but i want to hang out with you soon," you tell him, and san looks at you confused. "we need to catch up, don't you think?"

"sure," san agrees. "let me know where to be and when, i'll make it work."

-

that friday night, you have a babysitter (jen) and plans to meet san for dinner. jen is already here, you can hear her and violet whispering about something in the living room as you finish getting ready. this is not a date, but you're so nervous it might as well be. you could end up telling san tonight, if things go right. and if they go wrong...that's what's making you so nervous. the anxious side of you is already thinking of schools you can move violet to if the night goes bad, and the optimist is thinking about san finally being a dad to violet.

it's like he knew you were thinking about him, because his caller id lights up your phone (yes, his contact photo is that picture).

"you're cancelling," you say as soon as you pick up.

"what? no, freak," san chuckles. "i'm outside, but i'm sorry, i can't remember if your house has the red door or the blue one."

"you're what?" you ask, walking from your room to the front door. jen and violet watch on in curiosity, and you let out a sound of disbelief when you open the door to see san, standing by his car, looking from your house to the one next door.

"oh. found it," he teases, hanging up as he comes to the door. "you're not ready yet?"

"no, because i thought we were meeting there, i had more time," you say as you check your phone and notice you actually did not have time. "ok, i thought i had more time, but still. you didn't say you were picking me up."

"surprise?" san says sheepishly, peeking inside to wave to the girls.

"hi mr. choi!" they respond in unison, and san chuckles again.

"um, well, i wasn't expecting- i still have to-" you stammer out, basically turning in circles before staring back up at san. "give me two minutes."

"two? it'll be more like ten," san calls after you. you sort of sprint back to your room, checking that you look put together. your eyes look nervous, though. you hope san can't pick up on that. you grab your favorite necklace, one that violet picked out for you recently, and hold onto the heart pendant as you take a deep breath. you can do this. it's just san, your old pal! your friend! the father of your daughter who has no idea his life could have been completely different or that it's going to change with the information you're about to give him! great! let's go eat some tacos!

you and san both give violet hugs goodbye (she insisted) and jen says goodbye with a wiggle of her eyebrows. she thinks this is a date, and she spent an appropriate amount of time hyping you up tonight. she's known san more recently, so she gave you good insight on the whole telling him situation. she assured you that, while he may be frustrated by you not telling him sooner, under it all he'll be happy. he's wanted a family of his own since he started working at the school, so she's sure he'll be nothing but thrilled once the initial shock wears off. boy do you hope she's right.

-

san is being such a gentleman. first picking you up, then rushing out of the car to open your door for you, pulling your chair out at the restaurant...it's making this feel like a date. it's also making you scared that you're going to chicken out, but you can't.

"so," san says with a :] smile. "what did you want to talk about?" you take a moment to mess with the chips and salsa in front of you before you respond. you're taking so long that san takes a deep breath and starts, "i hope you know i'm not mad at you."

"what?" you ask in a small voice, chip halfway to your mouth.

"i'm not mad at you," san goes on. "i never was. i hope you know that."

"but i was a dick," you tell him, and he lowers his head with a laugh. you want him to listen to you though, so you grab his hand laid out on the table and squeeze. "no, seriously, that was such an asshole move on my part. only letting down my walls and letting you in the night before we both moved away? i've never forgiven myself for that."

"but you should," san shrugs. "i understand. i'm glad it happened. if i had to choose, i'd rather it happen the exact same way than not happen at all."

"right," and now it's your turn to look down. you let go of san's hand and go back to messing with the food in front of you. "i'm still sorry for how i acted."

"it's ok, i promise," san assures you. you aren't looking at him so he clears his throat and says, "actually, while we're talking about...back then. i have something to tell you too." oh no, you think. you nod to encourage him to continue, not sure you can speak right now. "um, well, here goes. i know it's been years, and we've barely talked since school, but..i don't know, y/n. i still think you're the one for me, and i was just wondering, maybe, since we're both in the same town again, and we see each other so often..."

"what, san?" you whisper, afraid of what he's going to say.

"will you go out with me?" he asks. "finally?"

"san," you sigh, and he shakes his head.

"no, don't say no yet. you can think about it. i know you have a lot more to consider than i do, so i don't mind waiting. but i wanted to put it out there. in case, uh, in case you were interested."

"put it out there? why are you talking about this like a couch you're trying to get rid of?" you tease him to ease the tension. "you just asked me out and now you sound like you're not sure."

"i'm sure," san says firmly. "very sure. but i don't want you to feel pressured."

"you've never made me feel anything but loved, san," you let slip, and you want to etch the look on his face into your memory forever. he looks so pleased, so purely happy at your words. they're hanging in the air as the waiter comes by to take your order, and that provides enough of a distraction that you both go back to a semblance of normalcy when he leaves. you fall into an easy conversation, catching up over your lost years. san tells you all about work, his family, his friends. it makes you happy that you chose this town, this school, to raise your kid in.

you fill san in too, but only the highlights. you don't want to ruin your dinner with the news, so you tell him about your career since he knows the least about that. he can't stop telling you how proud he is, and reiterates how amazing you are for raising a kid on top of it. you've got a steady blush on your cheeks as you keep chatting, and you notice then that the meal is over. your plates have been cleared for a while, and san paid without you knowing. how'd he do that?

"i was going to pay for my food," you protest.

"nope, my treat," san says. "let someone else take care of you for once."

"well thanks," you squeak out. "i've got you next time though."

"if there's a next time, i'm still paying," san replies so you roll your eyes and drop it for now. "um, before we go though, i was wondering...can i ask about violet? i feel like you barely mentioned her."

"oh, sorry," you laugh it off. "i don't get a chance to talk about myself a lot, so i'm not saying i forgot to mention vi, i just..."

"i get it," san nods in understanding. "you wanted to brag about yourself for a minute, that's ok. i'm glad you did."

"good," you smile shyly. "but, yeah, violet. what about her?"

"i wanna hear as much as you're willing to tell me," san says, and looking into your eyes, you know he means the father. "was there some great love of your life you don't want to tell me about?"

"san, it's not like that," you tell him, then think to yourself that in a way it is true. you think san is the love of your life, but you can't say that yet. "right, well, i have something to tell you, actually," you say in a voice stronger than you expected. you thought you'd be nervous, but it's like some mom power kicks in and you're able to stare directly into san's strong, gorgeous eyes as you speak. "can i?" you motion to his hands, and he holds them out so you can place your smaller ones in his. still looking into the eyes you've grown to love, you take a deep breath and say, "i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner. but san, you're violet's dad. she's your daughter."

"what?" he asks in a shaky voice.

"when we.." you try to explain, and have to start over, "that night. five years ago-"

"six," san corrects.

"six, you're right. that night was when she...yeah. i found out about violet a month later, after i had moved. i tried calling you. i did, i swear, and i know that sounds so childish but it's the truth. i tried calling you, tried figuring out how to tell you...but i heard how happy you were, how easy it was for you to settle into your life back at home. i didn't want to throw something unexpected at you and change all of that."

you rambled, and you're not sure how easy that was to follow. or how believable it was either, but you've said it. you're watching san take it in, and he's unnervingly calm. you can't read his face at all, but you realize you've been squeezing his hands and he's squeezing yours right back. you relax your grip then, but he doesn't. he stays quiet.

"san, say something."

"th-thank you," he stutters, finally slipping his hands out of yours. "thanks for protecting me from that, i guess."

"san, i-"

"no, y/n, it's fine," he shakes his head and stands. "come on, let's go. it's getting late."

-

the car ride is silent. san says nothing, but you can feel the emotions radiating from him. or maybe those are your own? fear, resentment, sadness...you always thought telling san the truth would make everything better. make you feel at peace at last. but currently you feel more ill at ease than you ever have. you want to crawl out of your skin, you want to scream at yourself, at san, just to get some kind of reaction out of him.

when he pulls into your driveway, he puts the car in park but doesn't unlock the door. you can tell he wants to say something, so you wait. you think you see jen peeking through the blinds, but you're not sure. a quick glance at the clock tells you violet's been in bed for a while, but knowing jen she probably let her stay up a little longer. you hope she's still awake when you go in, you could really use a hug from her right now.

"y/n," san calls your name softly. you turn your body completely so he can see you fully, and you see he's gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. "does she know?"

"huh?"

"violet," san says her name so carefully, so purposefully. like it's taken on a new meaning. "does violet now i'm her dad?"

"n-no," you stutter, and san slumps his head down. "but i told her about you. about her dad."

"she looks just like me," he says, and that's when you notice the sadness in his voice. he sounds broken, and it feels like your heart rips itself to shreds.

"san, i am so sor-"

"don't. just don't." you watch him carefully, and you think you see tears. "i can't..."

"can't what?" you want to reach out and touch him, to brush the tears away, but you hesitate.

"i can't believe you kept this from me," he says in a whisper so small you barely heard it.

"i was young and stupid and scared, san," you defend yourself. "i didn't know what i was doing, i should have tried harder to get in touch but-"

"i didn't get to be there y/n," he spits out, and you stop talking as he turns to you. "i missed her birth, her first steps, her first words. i wasn't in her life! she's my kid and you kept her from me for some of the most important years of her life."

"i know, and i'm..i'm sorry."

"sorry doesn't cut it." he's full on crying now. "i thought...i thought you cared about me. about what we meant to each other. how could you do this?"

"i was wrong to keep you away," you admit. "it ate me alive every day, but the longer i waited the harder it was to call you. and this is totally self inflicted but raising a kid on my own was hard! after i made that choice i barely had time to think about anything else!" you're shouting now, not out of anger, but frustration. "it was selfish, and i'm sorry. but i told you. you've always been part of violet's life. i tell her about her dad all the time. she asks about you, and i've never lied to her. i only kept your name, who you are to me, a secret."

"yeah that makes me feel so much better," san rolls his eyes, and you scoff before reaching over him to unlock the doors. as soon as you do, you're out of the car and rushing to your front door, san running behind you calling your name.

you get into the house and see jen moving around in the kitchen, but no signs of violet. san has stopped behind you, standing awkwardly at the threshold, so you grab his shirt and pull him along with you into violet's room. at the sound of the door opening she bolts up in bed. she looks confused, seeing two figures in her doorway, but when she recognizes you she makes little grabby hands for you to join her. again, san stays at the door, watching the two of you with a new perspective.

"cmere sugar," you whisper softly, sitting on violet's bed. you maneuver her so she's sitting on your lap.

"why is mr. choi here?" she asks, and you hear san take in a breath.

"his name is san, violet. and he's very important to me," you explain. violet is facing san as you ask, "can you tell us all you know about your daddy?" she nods, and then begins.

"mommy says he's very nice, the nicest man in the world!" violet starts out. "she says he's smart and strong and funny and handsome. she says i have his smile!" and with this she smiles, teeth and all, and san sees himself in her. it brings tears to his eyes, but she keeps going. "mommy says he's caring, and i had to ask what that meant. she says being caring means you're a good friend and you're nice to everybody. that reminds me of you, mr. san!"

"anything else baby?" you ask violet, stroking her hair. "what else do we say about daddy?"

"we love him very much," violet answers proudly. "and even if he's not with us, like in the same house or something, he's always right here!" and with that she puts her hand over her heart. she looks up at you then, asking, "did i miss anything mommy?"

"nope, you got it all sugar," and you kiss the top of her head, afraid to meet san's eyes. "thank you, violet. are you ready to go back to bed now?"

"yeah, but i want a bedtime story," she pouts, and you wonder if san notices how similar they look then too. "babysitter jen does too many funny voices, and one of them scared me."

"ok, i'll read you a story," you whisper, slowly and carefully dumping her back into bed as you stand. "but i need to talk to san really quick, is that ok?"

"uh huh," violet nods with a yawn, cuddling back up to her favorite stuffie. as san looks around her room, he notices a pillow he used to have, tucked in the corner of violet's bed. he used to call it shiber, it was something silly, but he loved that thing in college. it went missing the week before school ended, and san always wondered where it went. well, now he knows.

you carefully pull violet's door shut as the two of you back out into the hallway. the rest of the house is quiet, so you wonder briefly if jen has gone home. you look to san, ready to defend yourself further, get him to understand where you're coming from, but then you see the tears on his cheeks. now you do reach up and wipe them away, his hands covering yours and squeezing tightly.

"i am so sorry for keeping you away," you say one last time. "it was wrong. it will take time, but i will do everything i can to make that up to you."

"you can do it right now," san breathes out, the first easy breath he's taken since this conversation started. "let me be in her life. in yours. i missed so much, i can't miss anymore of it."

"we're here if you want us," you tell him, and san squeezes your hands again before pulling them from his face. he drapes your arms over his shoulders, his drifting to your waist.

"i do," he nods eagerly. "i want you." and with that, he kisses you. it's not a soft kiss, no. there's more force behind it than that. there's six years (maybe more) of repressed feelings in that kiss. it's the kind of kiss that makes you want to pop your foot up, the kind that sends butterflies soaring up from your stomach through your chest. you're so lost in the feeling that you don't hear violet's door open, and then...

"oh! mommy! mr. san is biting you!" violet shrieks, so you and san finally detach. you keep your foreheads together as you look down at violet staring disapprovingly at you.

"he's not biting me, we were kissing," you explain to her, but she doesn't like that answer.

"hey, i got in trouble for kissing a boy on the playground," she whines, and san looks at you in shock. you nod to confirm as you tell her, "that's because you shouldn't kiss at school. and you're too young. you can kiss when you're-"

"thirty," san finishes for you, making you both laugh as violet whines more.

"i was just gonna say when she's older," you whisper to him, and he shrugs.

"had to assert my parenting style somehow."

"why are you and mr. san whispering?" violet asks with a jump and her arms in the air. you're about to pick her up when san bends down and scoops her instead, so you can talk to her eye level.

"we're talking about you," you say as you boop her nose. "and stop calling him mr. san."

"what do i call him then?" she pouts, and you share your first silent parent language stare with san.

"actually baby, we have something we need to tell you..."