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zayneternal · 2 months

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☾ Midnight Ties ☽

summary ↠ When Deepspace Hunter, Mina Osaki, finds herself unable to sleep in the cold and quiet of the N109 Zone Safehouse, she instead runs headfirst into the one person who puts her most on edge--and this time, he's injured. [Main Story Spoilers | References to "Midnight Stealth" Memory]

genre ↠ angst (mild moments of fluff) with him↠ Sylus warnings ↠ Long Awaited Reverly Spoilers word count ↠ 13.4k

I’m unsure what jolts me from sleep. Then again, it’s far from the first time I’ve woken in the midnight hours over the last few weeks. I can’t really say I’ve ever been sure of why sleep eludes me here.

Sitting up in the too-big bed made up of too-soft sheets, I rub my knuckles against my eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness of the cold and quiet bedroom. I’ve lost track of how many days it’s been since I arrived back to this place, but this part of the routine is one of the few reliable parts of my day, for better or worse.

I huff out a breath, debating on if I should fall backwards onto the mussed sheets of the massive mattress and try to close my eyes once again, but the idea of staring at the back of my eyelids in this deafening silence sounds like the worst form of torture. Instead, I kick my legs over the edge, flinching at the feeling of the ice cold marble floor against my bare feet.

Would it kill someone to turn the heat up in this place? Even as the thought enters my mind, I scoff to myself, knowing the head of this household probably would kill someone for even attempting it.

Hesitating by the bed for a moment, I glance down at my sparse attire of cotton shorts and a mismatched tank top, wondering if I should find an extra layer to don. Then I recall how unnervingly empty this place becomes at night and decide against it. It’s not like there’s ever anyone to pass by in the lengthy hallways this late…or is it early? I never know.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I set towards the large mahogany door of the bedroom, snapping the lock open before pulling the heavy wood backwards. I’m not sure why I bother to lock the door–it’s not as if it would truly keep him out if his mind was set on entering. Maybe it’s because some stubborn part of me doesn’t want to make it too easy on him…or maybe I’m a little too reliant on the extra measures of boundary between the two of us.

Shaking my head of the thought, I pull the door closed behind me and step into the long hallway lined with many other doors identical to my own. I’ve not been inside most of them, but I imagine they’re more spare rooms, though as to who they’re for, I don’t know. The occupants of this residence have a tendency to make themselves quite scarce. And who could blame them?

The light in the hall is dim, giving me just enough illumination to help avoid bumping into the various vases and vanities that line the corridor. I hate how quiet it gets here, especially on the nights I’m unable to fall back to sleep and end up wandering to find something to occupy my mind. It’s like I can almost hear the air whispering next to my ears. It’s drives me crazy.

Luckily, I make it to the end of the hall just before the raging silence threatens to overwhelm me, and turn right into the open floor plan of the main living space. There are windows here that line one of the walls, overlooking the vast expanse that is the N109 Zone.

My first night here, I remember the view being somewhat deterring, what with the abandoned buildings littering the skyline and the ever-present darkness shrouding the seedy city life bustling far below. But as the nights progressed and sleep came few and far between, I found myself coming to these windows more and more often, surprisingly intrigued by how the view had morphed.

I silently shuffle towards the large length of cushioned sofa that curls around the living space, it’s end jutting up to the window, and curl myself against it. Allowing my head to fall sideways against the back of the couch, knees drawn to my chest to preserve what little warmth there is in the air, I gaze across the N109 Zone, languidly taking in the sights. It’s fascinating how differently I see the world below me now.

Where I once saw what were shady business dealings in the back alleys beneath, I now see citizens of the zone coming home to family at the end of a long day. Where I once saw destitute and rundown infrastructure, I now see life budding out of something once broken–I see people. A community. If I train my ears just right, I can even hear the jubilation of music and laughter spilling out of what I assume is a local pub on the street below.

The N109 Zone is still a treacherous place for the wrong people–it certainly was for me before he offered me respite in his own twisted way–but the longer I stay, the more I see what was once black and white as more gray and muddled. There is also good to be found here.

I begin to slip into a comfortable lethargy as I continue to watch the city breathe when I suddenly hear a loud shuffling at the door behind me.

Swiftly whipping my gaze from the window to the door across the room, I hug my knees tighter as it swings open, revealing a very familiar silhouette in the darkened doorway.

“Shit–” he hisses in a way that sounds like he’s struggling to keep quiet. His towering frame falters as he steps forward, tilting to the side before he catches himself messily on the open door.

I hold my breath, squinting in the low light to see his right hand stretched against the left side of his abdomen, pressing something against it. He regains his composure once more, lifting off the door long enough to turn and slowly close it behind him.

I don’t speak as he starts to move again. I can’t tell if he knows I’m there, and for some reason, I don’t bring myself to reveal my presence just yet. Instead, I watch as he attempts to make for the kitchen that sits against the opposite wall of the open room. He manages to get to the edge of the island counter before his weight gives way again and he slumps against the smooth surface.

“Damn it,” he curses through gritted teeth, trying to keep quiet again. My eyes widen as I suddenly realize he must be injured. The hand clutching his ribs, the slight limp to his walk, the way he can’t seem to hold himself upright. What happened to him?

I’m aware that the midnight hours in the N109 Zone are when the the work day is just beginning for groups like Onychinus. Dealings within the illegal crime organizations here are much livlier at night. And that’s doubly true for the household of Onychinus’ leader. As frustrating as it’s been knowing what goes on here at night as someone sworn to protect innocents from threats just like Onychinus, the circumstances of recent months have seemed to trump that mission for now.

A low grunt of pain sweeps me back into the present as the hunched figure in the kitchen pulls himself around to a cabinet pressed against the fridge. He moves to lift his hand to open the dark wood door but winces before he’s even raised it halfway up, yanking his arm back to his side. The faint moonlight filtering in through the windows illuminates the pained look of his sharp profile.

The sound of him trying to stifle his groans of discomfort spurs me from my hidden spot in the dark.

“Sylus.”

My soft voice feels swallowed by the darkness and size of the space, but Sylus reacts to the sound instantly, his frame straightening to its full height and his gaze whipping to find me at the edge of the island. He appears confused, then annoyed, nostrils flaring slightly in the moonlight that casts soft shadows along his cheeks.

It seems like I’ve managed to catch him off guard for the first time since we’ve met. His reaction surprises me in return, and I pause a few feet away from him, my weight shifting a bit nervously. He always has a way of making me a bit nervous.

Just as quickly as the confusion and annoyance pass over his defined features, they are gone again, replaced now with that air of cool arrogance he’s managed to perfect. His arched brow twitches, the corner of his mouth twisting into the shadow of a smirk I’ve come to know so well.

“It’s a little late to be wandering the halls, don’t you think, kitten?” The sultry lilt to his deep voice rumbles across the space between us, but I can hear the slight tension lying just beneath the surface of his words, as if he’s struggling to appear put together when, really, he’s in pain.

“You’re hurt,” I state, ignoring his attempt to divert the situation. And ignoring the gooseflesh that threatens to bubble under my skin as his piercing red gaze locks me in place. I have to admit it’s still a bit of a struggle to keep my half of the control in these interactions with him, as much as I’ve tried to grow accustomed to his unique persona.

Sylus’ mouth twists again as he breathes out a huff of laughter. “You do realize who you’re talking to, don’t you, sweetie?” A flash of his perfectly lined teeth cuts across the darkness. “Or do you not recall the events of the first time we met?”

I do recall. It seems an impossible moment to forget. The sound of the trigger going off against where Sylus had held it against his chest echoes in my mind and I wince. Glancing down to where the corner of his pectoral peeks out between the opened buttons of his black top, I remind myself that there’s no injury to be seen anymore. Only perfectly smooth, pale skin that sits atop the rippling muscle.

Shaking my head of yet another attempt at distraction, I press myself forward, daring to take a few steps towards him. “I saw you come in,” I admit. “You can barely hold yourself up.”

“I can assure you, I am perfectly fine, Miss Hunter,” he says, low and slow, his eyes remaining fixed intently on my person.

“Then you won’t mind if I just confirm that for myself, will you?” I feign an innocent look, scrunching my brows in a slightly dramatic show of concern. I hope by keeping the interaction light, he won’t notice how real my concern is.

The cocked grin on his lips falters ever so slightly, but it doesn’t go without me noticing. He’s certainly confirming something, and it’s not that he’s “perfectly fine”.

I watch as his hand falls away from his side and his arms open in front of him, gesturing down his body. That infuriating smirk is firmly fixed in place. “Help yourself, sweetie.”

I chew the inside of my cheek, throwing my usual reservations about getting close to him to the wind. My worry for what has him stumbling around in the dead of night trumps my boundaries right now. Steeling my nerves, I close the remaining few feet between the two of us, bare feet padding towards his large figure.

I can feel his electric gaze burning holes into me as I approach, but I keep my eyes fixed on his torso, irises flitting from his broad shoulders, down the length of his pale forearms, over the expanse of his open palms, and across the plane of his narrow waist. At first look, nothing seems amiss, his composure remaining intact. Squinting slightly in the dark, however, I notice how the rise and fall of his breaths is uneven and labored, and he’s favoring his weight on his right leg.

I reach my hands forward. “What do you think you’re doing?” Sylus questions, his voice betraying him with a hint of worry.

“Helping myself,” I counter cooly, willing my nerves to remain strong as my fingertips find purchase on the top button of his slightly askew dress shirt. To my surprise, Sylus allows me to continue without even the slightest step backwards, his arms hanging at his sides.

I move slowly, hoping my fingers aren’t shaking as much as I feel like they are as I deftly undo button after button. I try not to stare too long at the line of muscled skin that begins to reveal itself down his torso.

Swallowing dryly, I finally push the two halves of his black button down to the sides, eyes widening with a soft gasp as I take in what I see. The shirt had been covering exactly what I’d feared.

The left side of his ribs are in a sorry state, a semi-deep gash curling around the length of his waist, mottled with a mix of dried and fresh blood, as if the pressure he’d been providing couldn’t staunch the flow. The usually perfectly pale skin surrounding the wound is blossoming with fresh bruises of deep plum. Whatever caused this injury had to have been packing quite the punch.

What worried me most, though, was the fact that these wounds didn’t seem to be healing. If Sylus could survive a gunshot to the chest by my own hand, then what was the holdup with the self-healing this time?

“Sylus!” I manage to exclaim in a strained whisper. My hands move to hover over the wound as I rack my brain for any useful piece of the medical training I received in the Hunter’s Academy. I know I at least needed to clean the gash first.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I hear Sylus breathe from above me. I can tell he’s trying to quell my worries, but I don’t imagine a wound like this feels any better than it looks.

Slight annoyance from somewhere unknown suddenly pricks my chest. I shoot my eyes up to find his face already bent to watch me. Looking up at him from this close, I can feel each of his exhales fall against my mouth, but I push that realization aside and scrunch my brows at him.

“What happened? Where were you? Who did this?” I begin to rattle. My eyes flit back and forth between his, searching his face for any answers he might provide. At the other end of my questioning, Sylus’ expression slowly morphs into a rare sight. The usual facade of arrogance and control slips away to reveal something unusual. Sylus almost appears…sincere.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me, kitten,” he says softly, his hand raising to reach towards my face before stopping halfway and slowly dropping, as if he second-guessed whatever he was about to do.

“I am!” I assert, hands gripping the two halves of his open shirt so tightly I realize my knuckles are going white. Sylus’ expressions stutters, the seriousness in my tone giving him pause. I sigh. “Can we please cut the big bad mafia boss act for a second? You need bandaging before this gets worse.” I shake my head, staring at the injury again. “Why hasn’t it started healing on it’s own already?”

Sylus studies my face a moment longer, his usually intense gaze softening as it passes across my features.

“Would you believe me if I told you this is already better than it started?” His voice has a hint of humor to it, as if he’s still trying to ease my concern. Instead I find myself flinching against the idea that this isn’t even the worst of it. How badly had he been hurt tonight? How much effort had it taken him to get home?

I want to swat at his chest, but for fear of causing him any more pain, I restrain myself.

“Mina…” Sylus starts, and the way he utters my name instead of one of his many rotating pet names sends a shiver down my spine. But I refuse to waste anymore time.

“Lean against the counter,” I instruct, sounding more like a Hunter than the helpless girl I’ve been these past few minutes. Sylus breathes and slowly moves to the side, leaning against the marble countertop obediently. “I’m taking this off.”

I move my hands to the base of his neck, slipping my fingertips under the collar of his dress shirt and attempting to ignore the warmth of his skin in this freezing kitchen as I begin to push the fabric down his toned arms. To my surprise and great relief, Sylus remains silent for once allowing me to work without much distraction.

The pads of my fingers brush down the length of his muscled arms, following the trail of his shirt until it’s bunched at his wrists. “Your hands, please,” I request, carefully avoiding eye contact as I hold my own hands up.

As requested, Sylus gently places hands twice the size of my own in my palms, allowing me to undo the cuffs keeping his top from sliding off completely. After pulling the sleeves away from his body, I move to yank the remainder of the shirt from where it’s tucked messily into the waistline of his trousers. Without me asking this time, Sylus raises his arms to assist in the task, wincing again when his left arm agitates the injury.

Nodding in silent appreciation, I wrap my arms around the shape of his hips, giving him a wide birth, and being careful not to get as close as his cologne is causing me to want. Gripping the last of the black fabric and pulling, I’m relieved when it comes lose easily and falls away to the floor.

“Where will I find a first-aid kit?” I finally ask once his torso is bare. I realize I’m looking around the room to avoid looking at him.

“There.” His slender finger comes into my peripheral vision, poiting towards the cabinet he had originally been trying to open. I nod and turn to open it, feeling his eyes on me the entire time. As I begin to sift through the rows of various medicine bottles, syringes, and vials full of strange liquid, I’m suddenly strikingly aware that I never changed out of my sleepwear and are still donned in nothing but cotton shorts and a tank top.

I bite your lip, silently cursing to myself as my search continues through the cabinet. There’s not much I can do about it now, I suppose, but knowing I’m under the scrutinizing gaze of Sylus every second of this venture, I feel a mite over exposed.

Finally, I discover a box of antiseptic, gauze, and painkillers and pull it from the cabinet. When I turn back around, Sylus remains leant against the counter, looking sinfully good in the low light of the darkened kitchen. My breath hitches, knowing I’ve made the mistake of taking in his full figure so present before me, but it becomes harder to avert my gaze every time I see him.

It’s been one of the biggest frustrations of coming back to the N109 Zone. But once I discovered the intrigue of Sylus and my Evol linkage and the strange connection of our Aether Cores, it was an unavoidable trip. The last few weeks, Sylus and I have been seeing a lot more of each other, researching everything we can about what our linkage could be and how to control it. It seemed a little too late when I finally realized my growing nerves and the tension between us might not be from fear anymore. A realization I’ve been more than happy to continue shoving to the depths of my mind. I’ve had more important fish to fry lately.

I find it hard to swallow as Sylus and I stare at each other, time frozen for a moment. He leans his hips leisurely against the island, legs crossed at the ankles, his palms holding him upright as they rest against the counter behind him. The position he’s in presses his shoulders apart, making them appear even broader than normal, his forearms pusling with the veins that ripple under his skin.

His face is ethereal, bathed halfway in moonlight and halfway in shadow, the silver locks of his mussed hair falling in silk ribbons across his forehead. And his eyes. Oh, those eyes. Red and depthless and intense and all trained directly on me. I forget to breath as I take in his half-hooded gaze, irises looking lazy and dazed under the fan of his lashes. He looks god-like.

“Something wrong?” Sylus breaks the silence, his words rumbling across the miniscule distance between us. He tilts his head, lips parting slightly.

“No!” I answer a bit too fast. I see the ghost of a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. “N-No. I found the kit…”

My steps stutter back towards him, nerves hitching higher the closer we become, but one glance at the wound cutting across his ribs and I’m brought back to reality. He’s hurt and I need to focus.

Gritting my teeth, I set the open first-aid kit on the counter next to him and remove the antiseptic and clean cloth, blotting the fabric with the medicinal liquid. “This might sting,” I say gently.

I carefully press the cloth against the edge of the bloody gash, beginning to clean away the majority of the clotted and fresh blood still seeping onto Sylus’ skin. Despite Sylus’ claims that there was no need to worry, he flinches away from the ensuing sting of the cloth with a stifled moan. The noise is enough to make my stomach tighten.

“Careful, kitten,” he tuts through grit teeth, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“I told you it might sting.” I start to smile, finding it a little ironic that the big bad leader of the most well-known crime orginazation in the N109 Zone is brought low by the sting of antiseptic.

“There’s nothing funny about this situation,” he retorts, sounding almost childlike in his annoyance.

“There might be a little something funny about it.” I shrug and try to stifle the growth of my grin, but it’s harder than I thought. “It’s just medicine, you big baby.”

Sylus groans again as I make another pass, the muscles in his own stomach tensing and untensing. “Usually the use of medicine is unnecessary.” The last word comes out like a strained hiss when the cloth rubs against the edge of the gash.

My smile grows further, the corners of my mouth stretching to their limit. I cough to stop the urge to laugh at him.

“Now that’s a rare sight,” Sylus whispers, the surprised tone of his voice pulling my eyes away from where they were focused on cleaning away more blood.

“What?” I can’t help but ask, tilting my head at his entranced expression. His eyes drop to my lips and linger there a moment longer than they probably should have.

“That smile,” he admits, the hand opposite his injury lifting as if he’s unconscious of it. The back of his lithe fingers slowly brush against the length of my cheek, and my eyes widen at the feeling. He’s so warm. His own lips part and the tips of his fingers turn to glide along the underside of my mouth, his touch almost phantasmal.

In his eyes, I see realization dawn and his hand pauses, hesitantly moving back down to his side, as much as I secretly wish it wouldn’t have. He gazes at me and in his expression is a sort of emotion I can’t quite place. He quickly covers whatever it was with a resigned smile, gentler than his usual controlled smirk.

“I’d like it if you smiled like that more around me,” he confesses. My heart beat turns erratic for a moment.

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t been,” I offer back, clearing my throat and moving back to my earlier task of cleaning the wound. As the blood clears away with each stroke of the cloth, I begin to get a clearer picture of just how deep this wound must have been for this to be the semi-healed version of it. “Sylus, what happened to you tonight?”

The diversion in topic is a slightly welcome respite from the growing tension. I sneak a quick glance at his face and find his gaze trained on the floor, eyebrows knit with thought. He waits a moment as if deciding whether to stop this line of conversation with one of his carefully crafted deflections or reveal the truth. I’m not sure if its the vulnerable air about tonight or whatever trust I’ve built up with him over these past few weeks, but he eventually sighs and speaks.

“It was a new kind of protocore weapon,” Sylus admits, gesturing to his almost-clean wound.

“A new protocore weapon?” I repeat, shocked and intrugied. “What kind of weapon?”

“I’m not sure.” Sylus shakes his head. “One of the business dealings with a former partner that was planned for tonight didn’t quite meet expectations.” He huffs a laugh to himself, as if recalling the events that lead to his injury. I find them anything but humorous but decide not to press the matter.

“Before I could take control of the situation, one of his men blindsided me,” he continues. I feel anxiety well up in my chest as I listen, but I keep quiet, letting him explain as I continue to clear away the last of the dried blood splattering his ribs.

“Normally, a wound like this would be nothing but a trivial moment of pain, but once the dust settled, I realized it wasn’t healing over like usual. The blood just kept flowing. I came back here to find a way to mend it before it got much worse.”

“Sylus,” I breathe out once he finishes. I can feel his eyes return to me though I can’t bring myself to look at him again quite yet. “I know there was no way of you knowing what tonight would bring, but…” I swallow, trying to find the right words. “Please be careful.”

“You should see the other guys,” Sylus attempts to joke. “Well, there wasn’t really much of them to see in the end…”

I want to laugh, but find myself unable. The news he’s just shared worries me more than I’d like to admit to him in this moment. A new weapon that seems to temporarily halt Sylus’ self-healing abilities? That was a big, big revelation, and one that has my mind spinning.

“I know that these dealings are part of your job, and that danger comes with the territory, but I…” I trail off, not sure of what I’m wanting to tell him. Or if I’m wanting to tell him.

“You what?” Sylus presses in a voice almost inaudible. Though I still haven’t looked at his face, I can tell how close he is to me by the sound of his voice. I can feel the tickle of his breath against my ear. When I don’t immediately respond, I jolt at the feeling of Sylus’ fingers snaking their way under my chin and tenderly tugging my gaze away from his wound and back to his awaiting eyes.

The intensity of his stare almost knocks me to the floor. I might’ve fallen had it not been for the securing grip of his fingers around my chin. His thumb traces long lines against my skin, and I hope he can’t feel the timbre of my heartbeat rocketing against my chest. “You what?” he asks again.

Oh, what dangerous territory I’ve wandered into.

“I-I…” I stammer, the words incoherent in my head. “I need to finish bandaging your wound.”

I raise the ball of gauze between our too-close faces, relief exploding in my stomach at the flimsy boundary it creates. I hear Sylus sigh and chuckle on the other side as his hand slides from my face once more. He leans back a few inches, and I feel like I can breathe again.

“Very well,” he resigns, returning his arm to his side and allowing me to continue. Sighing in relief, I move to begin wrapping the gauze around his waist when his left hand suddenly moves in tandem with my right.

“Sylus, cut it out, I need to finish before it starts bleeding again!” I complain, giving him an annoyed look only to be met with his confused expression.

“I didn’t do that,” he responds, looking down to my hands. “Not voluntarily at least.”

“This isn’t the time for games, just let me–” I move to attempt the gauze wrap a second time when the same thing happens–his hand moves in tandem with mine, blocking the way. Realization dawns on me as I lift our entwined hands into the air.

“Damn it,” I curse as we both gaze upon the faint misty glow of our Evol linkage at work. Appearing almost as shrouded handcuffs, our mysterious and unexplainable resonance linkage had a nasty habit of forming at the most inopportune times, and this had to have been the worst of those times for it to happen.

“Your Evol certainly knows how to pick a moment,” Sylus drawls sarcastically, smirking at our joined wrists. I cut him an annoyed glance, groaning to myself.

“The last time we linked, it lasted. All. Day.” I recall last week when our resonance linkage decided to make an appearance over breakfast when Sylus leaned a little too close to me to grab the butter across the table. We spent the rest of that rainy day uncomfortably packed behind Sylus’ office desk researching ways to disengage the link at will. Obviously, we had no luck.

“Well we can’t blame that on the Evol, now can we?” Sylus gives me a knowing smirk, and I fight not to roll my eyes as a blush creeps over my cheeks. One thing we both learned early on is that whatever this linkage was, it grew stronger the stronger my emotional, mental…phsyical relationship with the other person grew.

Sylus has made to tease me about it on numerous occasions, and while I always tried to play it off as an annoyance, the truth was it scared me how long the links had been lasting. I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth was out in the open and he realized how deep the change in my feelings towards him went. Who knows how long this link would last? And in the middle of the night, no less.

I’d have to learn how to control this resonance business sooner rather than later. Before long, the link might form and never break, and that was a thought that made me want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“Well…” I start, frustration and embarrassment mixing together in my throat. “You’re just going to have to work with me to get these bandages on. Then we can worry about the link.”

Sylus chuckles at the sour expression I wear but nods in agreement, holding out his hand. It takes a few attempts, but we both manage to figure out a pattern of pass and pull that works well enough at getting the gauze wrapped around his waist without too much contortion. The silence we both work in allows me to calm down and throw myself into my task. It’s all too much to think through at the moment.

A few more moments of blissful silence pass, the gauze almost completely in place, when Sylus speaks again. “Mina…”

“Yes?” I stay focused on the wrapping.

“Why were you awake at this hour?”

The sincerity in his voice almost makes my hands stutter in their rotation. It seems for the moment, whatever form of his true self that lies beneath the cocky exterior was paying a visit.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” I shrug, confiding in him.

Another pause. “Is the bed not comfortable?”

“It’s perfectly comfortable,” I smile softly to myself.

“Is is it too hot? Too cold?”

“It’s freezing in this house all the time,” I laugh. “But that’s not why.”

“Are Kieran and Luke making too much noise when they come back? Is Mephisto bothering you?”

I continue laughing as the gauze goes around once more.

“Why are you laughing?” Sylus inquires. Even without looking at him, I can see the puzzled expression he wears. “I don’t see what’s funny.”

“You’re what’s funny,” I grin wider. “You’re usually not so full of questions.”

“I’m simply trying to fix whatever is keeping you awake. A Hunter needs to sleep through the night.”

My hands pause on the last rotation of the gauze, eyes zoning out on where it crosses over Sylus’ ribs. “I don’t know why I can’t sleep. I just find it hard here.”

I glance up to see Sylus gazing intently at you. He always seems to be doing that. This time there is a hint of worry laced in his scrunched features.

“I’m fine, though,” I reassure him quickly, my mouth twitching into a soft smile as I remember his earlier request. “I like coming here to watch the city. It’s relaxing.” My head tilts to gesture to the spot on the couch I’ve claimed for myself each night, the city scape stretching far beyond it.

Sylus follows my gesture and stares out the far window himself for a moment before coming back to rest on me. His face contorts as if he’s thinking hard about something before he quietly clears his throat.

“You’re not…are you…” It was so unlike Sylus to be lost for words. “Are you not used to sleeping alone?”

There’s a question within his question. One I’m caught off guard to answer.

“What? I–no,” I’m quick to respond. “I’m used to it. Very used to it.”

There’s a strange wash of relief over Sylus’ face at my response that has my insides knotting up.

“I’m not sure what it is,” I decide to continue, finally finishing the last wrap of the gauze and managing to secure it in place with my un-linked hand. With Sylus fully clean and bandaged, I drop my hands, unsure of what to do now.

After a beat of silence, Sylus glances back to the spot I gestured to on the couch and then to me. He tilts his head towards the window. “Care to show me the view of my city you’ve been enjoying?”

I look at him a little surprised by his request. My city. The more I get to know Sylus, the more I find myself forgetting how much influence and power he has here. To think that a few months ago I was hearing the name “Onychinus” for the first time, and now here I was, linked to it’s very leader, the most dangerous and powerful figure in the N109 Zone.

This man standing before me has become familiar in a way I wasn't expecting. He doesn’t scare me like he used to, and I find it hard to believe that he’s the one I spent so long hating before everything changed.

“Yes,” I finally whisper in response, smiling shyly in an almost childlike excitement to share this thing I’ve come to find comfort in.

“Then shall we?” Sylus gestures for me to lead the way back to the couch, and I oblige, turning to leave behind the bloodied shirt and messy first-aid kit in the kitchen and return to the view that originally pulled me out of my room.

When I reach the sofa, however, I realize quickly that sitting sideways to face the window with our hands linked the way they are is going to be an uncomfortable task. “Maybe if we…” I try sitting in a few different ways, but every position has either me or Sylus craning our shoulder in an odd way.

Sylus watches as I try to puzzle my way into the right positioning, but it’s to no avail. “Maybe we should just stand?” I laugh to myself, trying to hide my slight embarrassment.

Sylus smirks softly at me. “Come here,” he coos in that sultry way of his, the in-control and confident leader making a reappearance as he descends sideways against the cushions of the couch and pulls me with him. I can’t do anything but fall the short distance straight into his lap, his legs parted to make the perfect place for me to land.

My heart rachets into mythroat as he presses me gently back against his broad chest, my head tucked just beneath his chin. I pray vehemently that he can’t feel my heartbeat against him and thank the powers that be that he can’t see how heated my face is in this position.

I realize quickly that his idea was a sound one, though, as he wraps his long arms around my waist, bringing his linked wrist to rest just under where mine hovers awkwardly. He leans back agains the couch, sighing contendently, and I can feel the remnants of his deep voice vibrating against my back.

“Is this okay?” he whispers against your ear. I struggle not to fling myself away from him from the sheer shock of it.

Steeling myself, I breathe to calm down. “Ye-Yes. It’s fine.”

Sylus’ responding chuckle sends shivers across my arms and legs. “You can rest your hands, sweetie. No need to keep them hovering in the air like that.”

I blush violently again, and try to find where to rest them but everywhere seems too intimate, too close.

As if sensing my hesitancy, Sylus reaches his fingers towards mine and slides each digit between my own, dragging your now-encased hands into my lap. He’s always been far too confident for his own good.

“Comfortable?” he questions once our hands are settled. I want to laugh at him because this is the most on edge I’ve felt in my whole life. My heart is hammering against my ribs, my stomach is tensed in knots and I can almost promise my hands are quickly becoming clammy against the smooth, warm skin of his own .

“Yes,” I manage to lie, but he only laughs again, deep and slow and far too close to my ear.

“Too cute,” he says so quietly, I’m not sure I was meant to hear.

“Won’t I hurt you in this position?” I concernedly ask, turing my head slightly to make sure I’m not pressed against his injury.

“I’m the farthest from in pain I could be,” Sylus responds, the tip of his nose brushing along my turned cheek. Before I can even manage a yelp of surprise, Sylus continues. “Show me this city you’ve been watching,”

Grateful for the change in focus, I turn back to the window, calming slightly as I gaze back across the city, still unchanged in the last hour. Inside, however, I’m now not alone and it doesn’t feel so eerily quiet. Instead, Sylus is pressed so close that I can feel the rise and fall of his steady breathing, each exhale cascading against my shoulder. I can feel the pulsing of his heart all the way in this fingertips as they remain wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing abscently back and forth across the back of my palm.

I begin to point out the little scenes in the city below that calm me the most–the life of the pub below, the rooftop garden a few highrises away, the flocks of birds that fly overhead. With each scene I reveal to Sylus, the more relaxed I begin to feel. He doesn’t say much in response to my narration, only offering the occasional hums of acknowledgement or squeeze of my hand.

After a few minutes of my rambling, I turn my face slightly to make sure he hasn’t drifted off to sleep, but am instead met with his face mere centimeters from mine, his eyes already locked on my face. I wonder if he’s been watching me the whole time I’ve been talking…

“Yes, I have,” Sylus responds lowly, and I jump, eyes widening as he grins at me.

“Did I say that outloud?” My free hand goes to cover my mouth in embarrassment.

There is a brand new kind of mirth in Sylus’ eyes, one I’ve not been witness too this close. It sucks the breath from my lungs.

“I’ve seen this city from every angle, at every time of day, in every circumstance,” Sylus goes on, never looking away from me. “But you, little bird…”

I struggle to keep my composure in check.

“I’ve waited a long time to discover you.”

I think I might die.

“You’ll be fine, I’ve got you.”

Damn it, am I letting every thought slip into the open tonight?

Sylus’ expression goes from bright and humored to inquisitive, as if he’s considering whether or not he should voice his thoughts. He might as well, I’ve let every damn question in my head escape already. It’s only right he joins in.

“Mina,” he starts, looking almost nervous and very un-Sylus-like.

“Sylus,” I whisper back, feeling like I’m floating outside of my body.

His chest hitches slightly, lips parting as he breathes into the silence for a beat. “Earlier…when you told me I should be careful…what were you about to say?”

He sounds breathless, his question hanging in the air between us, our mouths far too close for me to be thinking straight. In the back of my mind, I recall the moment, hesitant even now to utter what I was considering an hour ago. How much would it change things between us? Whatever is left of our boundaries, what little there might be, would surely be gone. I don’t know if that’s for better or for worse.

“Please tell me.” Sylus leans in closer, his nose brushing against mine, our breaths intermingled. “Please.”

My resolve falters. “I-I…”

“You what?” Sylus seems almost desperate, his hands tightening around my own. I’ve never seen or heard him like this. It’s a new kind of vulnerable. So I decide to repay it with my own.

“I care about you.”

And now it’s out in the open between us, hanging there like a bob in the water. The only question is will he bite or reject the offering?

“I care about you, Sylus,” I whisper again, my free hand raising of it’s own volition to brush down the skin of his face, from the edge of his eyebrow to the corner of his full lips.

Sylus’ breathing becomes heavy, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly as something shifts in the air around us. “I hate seeing you hurt, and after tonight, I’m more worried than I wanted to admit about you being out in the city.” I find myself rambling into the growing tension. Anything to ease whatever is building.

“With this new weapon, I detest the idea of you out there alone…what if you don’t make it home next time?”

“Home…” Is all that Sylus repeats, as if he isn’t fully hearing every word.

I fully cup his face in my hand. As the moments have ticked by, I realize I’ve shifted in his embrace and am somehow almost fully facing him, body halfway turned in his lap as I lean into his strong arms.

Sylus exhales and leans his face into my touch, brows scrunching up in another emotion I can’t quite read.

“Is this why…” he begins, eyes dropping to my lips and then back again, “Is this why the links have been lasting so long?”

“...Yes.” My cheeks heat up once more.

“Fuck,” Sylus hisses to mostly himself, eyes drinking in my expression.

I curve my brow. “Is that good or bad?”

Sylus manages a breathy chuckle, his arm tightening around my waist now. “Good…very good. You don’t realize how much so.”

Afraid I’ll implode if I read too far into that statement, I continue, “Can I go out into the city with you? To help keep you safe? Please?”

Sylus looks slightly tormented by the question. “I’d be far too worried for your safety to consider my own, kitten.”

“I can take care of myself,” I rebut. “I’m a specially trained Deepspace Hunter, or have you forgotten?”

“I’d never forget something that could put my life in mortal danger,” Sylus responds sarcastically, chuckling softly at my responding annoyance. He strokes my face again and I melt.

“Let me take care of you,” I try again, leaning further into him, hoping to convey the sincerity of my request. Having said these thoughts out loud after all this time, I feel like a waterfall that can’t help but spill everything I’ve kept dammed up. “I want to take care of you.”

Once again, Sylus appears internally knotted up, his face contorting in an odd mix of confusion and desire. “Do you not know how much you do for me already?” he asks. “How much you’re doing for me in this very moment?”

“It doesn’t feel like enough, whatever it is,” I admit. “I can do more for you. I can fight.”

“Mina–” he strains out, conflicted. “I know you’re capable, I do, but that’s not–you don’t–”

“I don’t what?”

“Linkon City is not the N109 Zone. You’ve barely scratched the surface of how bad this place can get.”

I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, not in this moment after everything that’s been put out in the open, but his statement pricks my pride and I pull back from him. I can see that I’ve hurt him in his confused expression as I put more distance between us. I’d get up from my spot on his lap if I knew I’d make it more than half a foot without dragging him along with me.

“So you get to go out risking life and limb for your responsibilities, and I just have to sit here on my hands waiting for you to come back every night? IF you come back?”

“No, Mina, that’s not what I’m saying…fuck, I don’t even know…how are we–do we need to talk about this right now?” Sylus runs a hand through his silver locks and I watch as they fall in a messy cascade across his forehead.

I know this is not the way he probably saw this conversation going. I’m sure he would rather have me close to him and telling him more about how much I care about his wellbeing, and if I was being totally honest with myself, that’s what I wish too, but my pride is stumped against the wall of his double standards.

Why does he get to call the shots for my well-being but I get no say in his?

He looks like he’s about to reason with me again, but I shake my head. “I want to go to bed now.”

Sylus looks at a loss for words, starting at me with his jaw half open. He lifts our still-linked hands and waves them between us, as if to remind me that exiting this conversation isn’t going to be that easy.

I curse quietly to myself, looking away from him and out the window.

“Mina, please, can we–”

“No, we can’t,” I interrupt. With each passing moment, I feel more and more tense and I don’t know how to calm down. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears, the threat of the waterworks stinging at the back of my eyes, and it’s the most frustrating feeling.

Sylus, to the credit of his good judgement, is remaining quiet. I can feel him staring at the side of my face, probably wondering where this conversation turned sideways.

“Let’s go then,” he finally speaks into the growing silence.

I whip my head in this direction. “Go where?”

“To bed. If you’re so keen to sleep right now, then I will oblige.”

I look at him, confused, gesturing to our linked hands. “And how exactly do you suggest we do that?”

Without another word, Sylus scoops his free arm beneath my legs that hang over his lap and pulls. As if I’m the weight of a plushie, I’m hoisted into the air, sitting halfway over Sylus’ bare shoulder and halfway in one arm. I’m immediately annoyed by how strong he is.

“What are you–where are–”

“To bed,” he interrupts, and I can hear the tension in his own voice. I’m caught between my own frustration and the guilt of causing it, so I keep quiet, huffing in resignation as he turns and begins to trapse easily down the length of the dark hallway.

I have no idea what his plan is as he walks, wondering if he thinks the Evol link will just dissapear when he gets to my room, but instead he passes right by it. My eyes widen as I watch my heavy mahogany door grow smaller and smaller, Sylus still charging towards the end of the hall. I turn, taking in the ornate, black, double-doors at the head of the hallway…Sylus’ room.

“Where do you think you’re taking me?” I ask, incredulous.

“To b–”

“If you say “bed” one more damn time, I’ll throttle you here and now.”

Against his stoic resolve, Sylus chuckles, and I have to admit, I struggle to remain annoyed, overjoyed that he can’t see my face hanging over his shoulder.

I’ve only been in Sylus’ room twice, both during a bet to see if I could steal a brooch he’d hidden in return for his help on a mission to find the other half of my Aether Core. That seems so long ago now, though thinking back, that second visit to Sylus’ room was where our relationship started to shift from professional to…whatever is was now.

I shudder as I think about what it felt like to have him towering over me on that bed for the first time.

And now I was going back in under very different, albeit less enticing, circumstances.

I take in the familiar surroundings as Sylus pushes through the heavy doors like they’re nothing, making straight for the bed that he deftly plops me down on top of. I look up at him as he stands before me, but I can’t read his expression if my life depended on it.

“Care to explain how you saw this working?” I try, attempting to break the silence. As the moments pass and he remains like the former version of himself, walled up and unreadable, I feel my frustration beginning to be replaced by nerves and uncertainty. Is all that progress we just made for nothing? Are we back to square one now?

“First, you’ll help me out of these.”

I choke on my breath as Sylus gestures to his belt and slacks, still hugging snuggly to his narrow hips. The moisture in my mouth dries up as my eyes follow the prominent V at the bottom of his torso, the deep rivets leading straight below the button of the very pants he’s requested I help remove.

“I’ll what?”

“If we can bandage a wound while linked like this, I’m certain a simple belt and zipper won’t put up too much of a fight.”

“Sylus, I can’t–”

“If you think I’m sleeping in these in my own bed, you’re sorely mistaken,” he states, matter-of-factly. My jaw drops open. He can’t be serious. “Don’t look too disturbed, sweetie, I’ll do all the heavy lifting.” Sylus smirks as he yanks my linked hand forward.

At this angle, I have to pull against the momentum to stop my hand from making an…unfortunate collision, and cut my look of shock and annoyance up to to see Sylus looking mighty pleased with himself.

“Just keep your hand close enough to allow me to work,” he explains. I fight to not roll my eyes. I also fight to keep my cheeks from heating up. I’m beginning to remember how I used to feel in the presence of Sylus before I got through a few more of his layers. This arrogance and smugness always did make me irate.

I look across the room, finding anything and everything to analyze while I feel my hand being jostled around. I hear the metallic sound of the belt being undone and discarded to the ground. Then the unmistakable sounds of his zipper falling loose and his slacks slipping to the floor.

“Don’t be too coy, kitten. It’s not like this is isn’t anything you haven’t seen,” Sylus purrs from next to me, and my stomach does a flip against my protestation.

“Can we just get to the sleeping part?” I try my best to sound as bored as possible. How we went from mere centimeters apart, sharing breaths and encased in each others arms to putting on our best show of “Who Can Care Less?” I'll never know.

Instead of the smug response I’m expecting back, I hear a low and resigned sigh from next to me and brave a look in Sylus’ direction. His eyes are cast away towards the floor, but mine hungrily graze up his newly bare skin. It’s true it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but that doesn’t make it any less delicious.

His lengthy frame is cut with rippling muscles that sit prettily beneath his luminescent skin. His bandaged and broad torso swims to the narrow line of his black briefs that hug the curve of his meaty thighs like something perfectly tailored. Knowing him, the briefs probably were perfectly tailored.

I am distracted from my shameless gazing, however, as I return my eyes to his face. He’s still not looking at me…he looks almost sad? I don’t recall ever seeing Sylus downcast, but if that’s not the expression sneaking onto this perfect face, then I don’t know what is. My heart lurches at the sight.

I watch as he reaches past me to pull the pristinely made sheets away from the headboard, revealing a deepset grey silk. “After you,” he offers, his previous expression masked for the moment.

My emotions are all over the place, but I keep any thoughts I have to myself as I nod and scoot back on the bed. Sylus is pulled after me by our linked wrists, and if the circumstances were any different right now, I think I might explode from the sight of his lithe frame bending to crawl onto the bed towards me.

I have to avert my gaze and swiftly burry myself beneath the cool sheets before I heat up anymore. As I settle against the pillow, I feel the bed dip next to me as Sylus does the same. Soon, I feel the silk sheets rise to encase us both, and with a swift flick of Sylus’ fingers, the lights in room go out and we’re plunged into darkness and silence.

I blink a few times, forcing my eyes to adjust to the lighting. Soon enough, the moonlight bathes everything in the bedroom in a soft glow and I can see the faint outline of the objects around me. I turn my head to the right and gaze out of the large bay window fixed into the far wall. The view of the night sky from here is breathtaking. I can’t help but feel a sense of yearning for the scene only minutes earlier, staring out the window with Sylus so close.

He’s so close to me now, but it doesn’t feel like it anymore. How did things change so quickly? I forget why I was even frustrated with him…Well, I still remember why, but I don’t know why it was so important. The downfall of pride, I suppose. And now I’m lying in Sylus’ bed more awake than ever before, wallowing in my regret and desperate for some sort of salve to the situation.

I risk a glance to my left and can make out the sharp outline of Sylus’ profile resting on the pillow next to mine. How many times have I dreamed of this? Of lying next to him in the quiet of the evening? Only there wasn’t this glaring tension resting between us in those dreams. I mentally kick myself for letting my annoyance get the better of me. And just after I’d made so much progress with him.

I can feel the heat of his hand under the blankets so close to mine, the Evol linking our wrists making it harder to move any farther apart. As I subtly test the pull of the link, I can’t help but feel it’s even shorter than when it first connected. My fingers must be mere centemeters from Sylus’.

There’s no sound in the room aside from our breathing. If I train my ears just right, I can find the rhythm of Sylus’ inhales and exhales–the only comforting thing in the vicinity. I chew the inside of my cheek as the temptation to move closer to him grows. He’s so close, so warm. And with that warmth so nearby, it intensifies the freezing air of the bedroom, chilling me right to my bones.

My free hand grips the silk sheets, pulling them up to rest just below my chin. I curl my body beneath the covers as tightly as I can, trying to retain any heat I still have from when Sylus’ was holding me against him. It’s no use. I continue to fight against the chill of the air, wondering how Sylus exists in this kind of cold all the time.

“You’re shaking the whole bed.”

The sound of his voice in the dead silence makes me jump.

“Oh…I’m s-sorry,” I chatter, my chin stuttering from the chill. “It just got so cold…You don’t have an extra blanket in here, do you?”

Instead of responding, I hear him sigh deeply before the bed dips closer to me and I’m suddenly sliding sideways directly into the bare and blazing skin of Sylus himself. He situates our linked wrists in such a way that they are comfortably resting between our bodies. I instinctively curl myself against him, drinking in his heat like water.

“Better?’ he asks, his voice close by in the darkness.

I sigh out the last of my chill, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder, not stopping to care that the tension between our unresolved conversation is still sitting stagnant above us.

“Yes,” I say honestly. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I attempt to close my eyes and find rest. If silence is all that awaits me tonight, I’d rather find solace in slumber and pray that when I wake up, the link will be dissolved.

My eyes are closed all of a minute before I realize falling back asleep won’t be as easy as I hoped. My insides are too restless, my regret and guilt too heavy. I should say something, I know I should, but I’m not sure how to broach the topic again…

“I care about you, too.”

Once again the low rumble of Sylus’ rough timbre echoes into the silence before I get my chance. I jolt at the unexpected comment and feel him shift his position beside me. In the glow of the moonlight, I lift my head to see his face turned towards me, lids hooded as he finds my eyes.

Suddenly my heart is pounding again. How does he manage to do that?

“What?” is all I can think to say.

“I care about you. I realize I never returned the sentiment…earlier.”

“Oh!” I breathe out, caught off guard. “I–That’s…thank you?”

“Thank you?”

I can hear the start of a chuckle behind his words, and I can’t help but giggle in response at the absurdity of my own.

“No, not ‘thank you’--well, I mean yes, thank you, but that’s–what I meant to say was…”

“It’s ok, Mina,” he lulls my from my spiral with his calm tone. He turns even more in the darkness until we are both lying facing each other. He looks some kind of otherworldly in this light. “I wanted to you know that I’m not hesitant to bring you with me into the city because I don’t think you’re capable or don’t want you to worry for my well-being.”

I purse my lips, studying his face. His expression is still sadder than I’d like it to be, as if he’s been mulling these words over and over, unsure of how I’d respond.

“I know,” I agree, earnestly. “But then why–”

“I care about you, too,” he repeats just as emphatically as me. Under the blankets, I feel the ghost of his fingers trail against mine, testing the waters of what’s ok. I instantly fold and move my fingers to be eagerly enveloped by his own. He inches closer to me.

“You care about me,” I echo, testing each word on my lips.

He slowly grins, that hooded gaze eating me alive. His other hand reaches towards me and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, so gentle I question if this is the same man I met all those months ago.

“Yes,” he assures in a breath of a whisper. “Very much so.”

“You care about me,” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

Sylus laughs a low rumble of a laugh that shoots right through me. “I care about you so much that I worry about your safety the same way you say you worry about mine.”

I stare up at him, melting against his palm as it traces soothing lines up and down the curve of my neck. It’s like every new place he’s allowed to touch me is a place he must explore every inch of, memorizing every fold and caressing every curve.

“I have responsibilities to attend to out in the city,” he continues on, explaining in a sort of gentle voice that has me hanging onto every syllable. “If I don’t attend to those responsibilities, all that follows is chaos, the kind that would eventually rope you up inside, and I can’t have that.” His fingers tighten on my hand, as if reassuring himself I’m really here in front of him.

“Keeping you here means that I can attend to responsibilities knowing you’re safe and unharmed,” Sylus reveals. “I’m without the distraction of worrying about someone I care for.”

“You care about me.”

Sylus laughs louder this time. “Is that all you can say, kitten?”

I feel my grin growing in response to the sound of his laughter. I wonder how many other people have had the privilege to hear his laugh, his real laugh, hearty and deep and comforting.

“I’m sorry, “ I shake my head. “I’m just processing.”

Sylus inches forward almost imperceptibly, eyebrows knit together. “Surely you knew I returned the feeling?”

I suddenly become sheepish.

Sylus’ eyebrows raise in astonishment, his grin going lopsided. “Surely, you knew!”

My cheeks heat and I retreat with a squeak beneath the barrier of silk sheets, burying my face against his shoulder. I hear another well of laughter tumble over me as Sylus moves to remove the sheets from overtop of me.

“I promise I didn’t know!” I finally admit, grinning stupidly against the warmth of his skin. As the natural cadence of my giggling dies down, I continue, slightly embarrassed, “I guessed…I hoped…but you’ve been so shamelessly flirtatious since the moment we met, I could never be sure…”

Sylus feigns shock. “Shamelessly flirtatious? Tsk, tsk, sweetie, you couldn’t be talking about me.”

I laugh again and Sylus lights up at the sound, his eyes glowing.

He stares at me for a long moment, his hands reclaiming their purchases against my skin, stroking and caressing the exposed parts with such care. “Sorry if it should’ve been more obvious,” I add after a minute, gazing lazily at his face. “Wanderers and fluctuation zones I can detect all day long, but this has never been my strong suit…” I gesture between the two of us.

Sylus huffs a gentle laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe it wasn’t obvious to you, that’s ok. We’re here now.”

I bite my lip in thought and Sylus’ eyes zero in on the action, pupils dialiting before he pulls his gaze away. My stomach twists again.

“...How long?” I eventually ask, nerves lighting up inside me. I can’t bare to keep eye contact with him as I wait for an answer.

“How long?”

“How long have you…cared for me?” I feel so silly asking it out loud. As a blush creeps up my neck, I fight the urge to dive beneath the covers again.

Sylus’ fingers still their soothing ministrations against my skin, and I suddenly worry. Did I ask something I shouldn’t have? Was it too far? Too soon?

But when I anxiously meet Sylus’ eyes once again, he’s already looking at me like something I’ve never seen. His piercing red irises have a slight glow to them, his brows knit slightly in a look of sincerity that takes my breath away. He pauses a moment longer, making sure I’m keeping my eyes on him as he speaks, low and slow.

“A long time,” he utters, breathless. “A very, very long time.”

I’m slightly confused while at the same time utterly captivated. I don’t know how long these few months could’ve felt. I suppose it has seemed like forever already, but I have a feeling that’s not what he means. Something about the moment has me reeling back my questions, however. This doesn’t seem like the right time or place to broach that topic.

“And you?” He returns my question, his face earnest as he awaits my response. “When did you start to…care?”

I find his phrasing funny and giggle before I answer. “When I was looking for that brooch, I suppose.”

He looks somewhat surprised at this. Maybe it wasn’t what he was expecting. “The one from the bet we made?”

I nod.

“What about that little hunt had you see me as something less monstrous?”

I open my mouth to protest that I ever found him monstrous, but truth be told, those first few days in the N109 Zone were not my favorite to recount with him.

Instead I answer honestly. “I tried so many times so many ways to find that stupid brooch, and you were so…patient with me. Even when I eventually had you handcuffed to this very bed and you could’ve escaped at any moment, you didn’t, and you let me think I had the upper hand for a few moments.”

Sylus listens intently, his eyes trained on my lips.

“I don’t know,” I continue. “In the end when you finally handed over the brooch, at first I was annoyed that you’d let me win without really winning, but as I kept replaying the memory of it, I thought it was so uncharacteristic of you to give in…and then I started thinking, ‘What if that isn’t uncharacteristic of him, and the demeanor he usually has is the farce?’”

I watch Sylus’ eyebrow raise in question.

“The interactions we had after that…I started looking at you through that lens to test my theory, and sure enough, you aren’t the big bad meanie everyone paints you to be. At least not all the time.” I smile to myself.

Looking back to Sylus, I see his expression has become one of subdued shock.

“What?” I ask through my smile.

“I just didn’t think you were paying that close attention to me.”

“I’m quite perceptive where it counts,” I defend myself.

He smiles slowly. “Except when it comes to matters of returned affection.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, well I’m one for one on the perception front. I’m gonna take that as a win.”

Sylus’ grin grows and he inches forward yet again. As I notice how truly close he’s gotten, my nerves begin to edge upward. My throat dry, I avert my eyes. “So, what now?”

“You could touch me.”

“W-What?” I choke out, blindsided by his request.

“If you want to, that is,” he amends, carefully looking me over. “You seem rather…timid when it comes to physical affection, do you not?”

“I’m not timid!” I say defiantly, immediately proving myself wrong when Sylus dips his hand from my face to my shoulder then under the edge of blanket to my waist. I instantly flinch away from the sudden change in proximity. “Ok, well that was an unfair play!”

Sylus is laughing in earnest now, and it’s enough to distract me from my fumble.

“You were a little tense on the couch earlier, as well,” he notes, moving his hand back to the safe zone of my face. “Do you not enjoy physical contact?”

“I do!” I am quick to assure him. “I do enjoy it, it’s just…”

“Just…?”

“You make me nervous.”

“Nervous good or nervous bad?”

“Good! Nervous good.”

“So what does nervous good mean? Would you rather I not touch you just yet?” Sylus begins to remove his hands from me and I immediately feel their absence.

I shake my head, swiftly reaching back for his hands and pulling them back to where they were previously stationed. Sylus tries to hide his satisfaction.

“I don’t mind the physical contact, really!” I do my best to reassure that I am very much enthusiastic about the physical element going on here. “It just might take me a bit to get used to it without jumping is all. It’s something new.”

Sylus nods, his eyes darting away before returning with a question. “And me? How do you feel about touching me?”

My throat dries again. He truly is shameless.

“Have I given the impression that I don’t want to?” I ask sincerely, concerned I’ve come across averse to the idea.

“You haven’t exactly returned the physical sentiment the whole time we’ve been lying here.” He says it like it’s obvious.

“Oh, I haven’t?” I was genuinely unaware, much more focused on his hands on me than where mine were. Now that he’s mentioned it, I realize aside from the hand I’m holding beneath the sheets, my other hand remains curled against my own chest. “Do you…enjoy physical contact?”

“Yes,” he responds without a beat of pause. “Especially yours.”

My stomach is doing flips. “Where should I–?”

“Anywhere,” he whispers. “Everywhere.”

I hesitate a moment, overthinking every minute movement. I did touch him earlier when I bandaging his wounds, but I suppose that was with a different purpose in mind. And on the couch, I remember touching his face, didn’t I? Maybe it wasn’t enough for him. I know some people are more drawn to touch than others. I didn’t even really know I liked it until Sylus started doing it. If it feels as comforting to him as this does to me, then I decide to make an effort to return the gestures he’s already offered.

Slowly, I unfurl my hand from against my own chest and reach out towards the exposed planes of Sylus’. I place my palm flat against his collarbone, fingers running a line across the protruding feature and up along the curve of his own neck. His skin is soft and warm and I eat up every inch of it as I trace a path along the sharp jut of his jawline and then back down, down, down, across his collarbone once again and then onto the solid muscles of his chest.

I run my nails along his pale skin, and Sylus shudders beneath my touch, moving even closer to me.

“Is this ok?” I ask gently, keeping my eyes focused on what my hand is doing.

“Yes,” comes the heady whisper of approval above me. It sounds almost gutteral and it has my mind spinning. Did this really affect him that much? “More. Touch me more.”

My mind careens into an abyss at the sound of his voice. When I look up, he’s looking down with eyes half closed, irises glazed over and needy, and staring right at me.

I continue to run the pressure of my palm and the scratch of my nails along his chest, venturing across to his other pectoral and then down his sternum towards the chiseled field of his abdominals. I stop just above the gauze wrapping, avoiding placing any pressure on his healing wound. As I travel back up towards his face, I test a graze along his exposed nipple and melt inside as a low moan of approval erupts from his throat.

“Careful, kitten,” he admonishes in a dulcet tone. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Can’t fini–” I start to question before he captures my roaming hand in his own.

“Maybe that’s enough practice for now,” he decides, thumbing the back of my palm.

I look up at Sylus from beneath hooded lashes, breathing harder than I realized. I watch as Sylus’ adam’s apple bobs against the skin of his throat, his chest starting to heave like a bellows.

“Fuck…” he hisses, squeezing my hand as if trying to stop his own from moving any farther.

“What?” I question, searching that dazed expression for what he might be thinking about. Did I do something I shouldn’t have? “What’s wrong?”

Sylus leans closer to me, our mouths a breath apart. “I’m trying so hard to stop myself from kissing you right now.”

His brazen confession has my breath stuck in my throat. There’s a silence that seems like it stretches on forever between us. I force myself to swallow and say, “What if I don’t want you to stop yourself?”

His right eye glows an intense shade of red as he reigns in the flare of his Evol energy. Those irises lock their sights on my parted lips. He licks his own in a way that has me becoming a puddle against him. I didn’t realize I want to kiss him so badly until he spoke it outloud. Now it’s all I can think of. What his lips taste like, what noises he makes, how well he uses that vipers tongue of his…

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he whispers against the skin of cheek, so close that he almost feels like part of me.

“Don’t,” I plead breathlessly. “Don’t stop yourself.”

I let my eyes drift back to his enticing mouth, licking my own lips in response.

“I have to–” is all he gets out before his lips are on mine.

My head and my stomach implode in tandem, nerves and butterflies and explosions swimming all throughout my body at the feeling of him kissing me. I am in heaven, pure heaven.

I always knew Sylus was a sensual kind of person, but having his lips pressed against mine was almost sinful with how perfect it felt. The kiss is gentle but desperate, the pressure of his mouth on mine conveying how he can’t seem to get close enough, to feel enough of me.

His free hand moves from my face to my neck and up to my hair, his long digits fisting in my locks, tugging me futher into him. I suck against his bottom lip which draws out the most beautiful moan from his throat.

His Evol energy suddenly erupts in a swarm of red and black mist that swims around us both, carressing my arms, my legs, my waist, every part of me his hands can’t get to.

I feel his wrist tugging against the link beneath the sheets, trying without success to free itself and move elsewhere on my person.

“Fuck, I want to touch you, all of you,” he grinds out through breathless kisses, tugging again against the Evol link. If I wasn’t so far gone against his body, I’d find it in me to laugh that the very thing that brought us this close was now his hindrance. And with the link growing stronger the more our connection grows, I didn’t see it coming loose anytime soon.

“Sylus,” I moan against his mouth, his Evol energy shuddering around me in response.

“Say it again, Mina,” he pleads, pressing me to his chest. “Say my name.”

“Sylus, Sylus, Sylus,” I repeat in between each capture of my lips in his. We continue for a moment longer, his tongue beginning to tease the line of my mouth before he suddenly pulls away, leaving me breathless and blown out, hazy in the remnants of his touch.

I open my eyes to see his chest rising and falling in erratic patterns, his hand still fisted in my hair. His own eyes are closed, his Evol energy slowly dissipating around us. He’s trying to regain himself.

“Sylus?” I venture, my voice not sounding quite my own. “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” he breathes slowly, his voice like gravel. “Yes, I’m fine. I just need…a moment.”

“Ok,” I concede, lying back and watching him as he reigns in his explosion of energy. He’s so powerful, it’s a marvel to watch his Evol in action, and it makes me want to reach back for him even more. I lift my free hand to do just that before he intercepts my fingers in his own and holds it against his chest.

Sylus falls against the sheets and curls me against him, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sorry, I think we should stop for now…”

“Oh, ok,” I whisper, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. I make to turn myself over before he sees the blush covering my neck and face when he tightens his grip on me.

“Where are you going?” he sounds concerned.

“I thought…you said you wanted to stop.”

Sylus exhales a relieved breath. “No, kitten, please don’t misunderstand.” I meet his eyes and he massages my hand with his own in a comforting way. “I need to stop for my own sake…if we’d kept going…I don’t think I would’ve been able to control my Evol.”

My eyes light with realization. “Oh…”

“I’ve never…” His eyes go somewhere far away for a moment as he becomes lost in a thought. “That’s never happened before. My Evol going haywire…did I hurt you?” Suddenly all his worry is trained on me, his eyes looking me up and down to ensure no lingering injury was left behind.

“What? No, of course not,” I reassure him. “It felt…good.”

“Good?” Sylus repeats.

“Like there was more of you around me.”

He exhales again. “Good.”

“Was it…okay for you?” If I had a dollar for everytime I’ve blushed uncontrollably tonight, I’d be a damn millionare.

Sylus looks at me for a moment before leaning in and chuckling, his eyes closing in mirth. Was I that bad?

He opens his eyes and looks so deeply in mine that I balk under his gaze. “You have…no idea how long I’ve waited for that.” The tone of his voice sets my heart aflame. Sylus glances back to my now-swollen lips before he tears away. “I would do it again if I thought I could control myself.”

The way he looks at me so hungrily, like he could devour the whole of me in one bite makes me want to hide myself away. He is too much and not enough all at once.

“We’ll have to work on that,” I manage to finally say.

Sylus laughs and he runs the back of his hand down my face, coming to rest against my neck. “I look forward to it. Now, sleep, little bird. You’ve been up far past your bedtime.”

I blink at him and suddenly feel more tired than I have in weeks. As Sylus curls me against his side and readjusts the sheets overtop of us, I fight to stay awake and take one last look at his perfect face, suddenly terrified this has all been some elaborate fever dream and I’m about to wake up in my bed down the hall with nothing but the lingering memory of tonight to hold on to.

“Sleep, darling,” Sylus whispers again, his lips pressing to the crown of my head, his hand still linked to mine beneath the silk sheets massaging gentle patterns into my palm that have my drifting even farther off. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

And that was all I needed to hear before my eyes finally closed and sleep washed over me for the first time since I arrived. This time, I sleep all the way through to morning. ~ A/N: This is the first thing I've written since i went on a tumblr hiatus back in 2020. Love and Deepspace has drawn me out of the trenches and I am once again a fandom girlie. For now at least! I lowkey wanted to make this into a mini-series, which i might still do if I get enough of an idea for it, but for now, I hope you enjoy this moment with Sylus! Requests are open for drabbles and fics for LnDS <3 ~zayneternal <3

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tainsan · 11 months

Text

destiny.

➾ synopsis: waking up in the past is a disorienting experience. what’s even worse is it seems like you’re the only person in the world who is experiencing it. so when all of a sudden, a distressed man shows up claiming he has also woken up in the past. you realise he may be the key to your way home, yet he also just so happens to be a member from your favourite kpop group, ateez.

➾ word count: 25k

➾ pairing: idol! San x non idol!reader, soulmate au (kinda)

➾ warnings: slight violence, mentions of death, fluff

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sitting regally in front of a beautifully adorned vanity, you are surrounded by your maids who are diligently preparing you for the grand banquet in the royal palace. You take a deep breath, the scent of incense and flowers filling the room, as your maids flit about you, attending to your every need. The dress you are to wear is a magnificent creation of delicate silk, adorned with intricate embroidery and adorned with gemstones that sparkle in the soft glow of the chamber's lanterns. The fabric is a rich shade of deep crimson, the colour reserved for the royal family.

You have always been fascinated by the process of dressing for such occasions. Your maids are skilled artisans, their fingers deft and nimble as they fasten your dress, adjust your ornate hairpins, and adorn you with exquisite jewellery. Your attire is a reflection of your station, a symbol of your lineage, and the embodiment of your role as a princess in the esteemed Joseon Dynasty. Yet, no matter how much you tell yourself, this is your life, you are just not able to get used to it.

Whilst your maids work, your thoughts turn inward. You can't help but feel a sense of unease, a mysterious foreboding that gnaws at your heart. Your life was so normal until you awoke to privilege and luxury, the weight of your responsibilities is never far from your mind. In this moment, with your heart fluttering like a caged bird, you need a respite from the constant attention and the constraints of the role you know you must get used to.

"Could I have a moment alone, please?" you ask your maids softly, your voice tinged with a sense of vulnerability.

The maids exchange glances but nod, their expressions filled with concern for their beloved princess. They step away, leaving you to collect your thoughts. You walk to the large window that overlooks the palace gardens, the night air whispering through the delicate curtains. The view is magnificent, with the moon casting a soft glow over the sprawling landscape. The sky, however, is what captures your attention.

Your eyes fixate on the heavens, your heart racing as you observe the unusual display above. The clouds seem to be moving in strange, swirling patterns, unlike anything you have ever witnessed. It's as if the heavens themselves are painting a picture of a world in turmoil. You shiver, feeling a strange connection to the celestial dance above, as if the heavens are trying to convey a message to you.

The events of the day have been shrouded in mystery and intrigue. Whispers of distant threats have reached your ears, and your ‘father’, the king, has been preoccupied with matters of the state. You've overheard hushed conversations in the palace corridors, and your intuition tells you that today holds more significance than a mere banquet.

As you continue to gaze out the window, your hand instinctively reaches for the silver pendant hanging from your neck, it was the only thing you had kept from your life before this one. It's a reminder of your true home, where you belong. Yet it also reminds you of how far away you are from it.

Your heart aches for a moment of clarity, a deeper understanding of the strange, foreboding feeling that clings to you. You know you can't linger too long; the banquet will soon begin, and your presence is required. But for now, you allow yourself this stolen moment, watching the enigmatic sky and silently praying for a way home and peace in the tumultuous times that lie ahead.

In the midst of your contemplation, you hear a soft, discreet knocking on the ornate wooden door that leads into your chambers.

You turn your head in the direction of the sound, and you call out, "Enter," in a voice just loud enough for the person outside to hear, careful not to disturb the serenity that surrounds you in this grand castle.

The door swings open, and in walks Lady Maid Jiyun, the only person who knows the true depths of your situation. Over the time you've been in this unfamiliar world, you've grown surprisingly close to her, even though she insists she's known you since you were a child. She closes the door behind her with a gentle, muted click, before turning towards you, her eyes cast downward in a gesture of respect.

“Jiyun,”

"Are you ready, your highness?" she questions, her tone respectful but impersonal, echoing the title that has begun to grate on your nerves. In your heart, you know you're not a princess, but a simple girl who owns a café.

"Jiyun, please, you need not talk to me like that when we are alone," you reply with a sigh of frustration. The misuse of your title feels like a constant reminder of the life you've been thrust into, and you long for your old existence.

"It is out of habit, I apologise," Jiyun says, her voice filled with sympathy and understanding. She moves closer, her demeanour less formal in the privacy of your chamber.

"I am not your princess, you know that, Jiyun," you say, your frustration palpable. The weight of the title and the expectations it carries weighs on you heavily.

Jiyun rushes to your side, her voice hushed as she hurriedly whispers, "Do not utter such words so loudly. You know what they will do if they suspect you."

You nod in reluctant agreement. "Yes, I know," you concede, your voice barely above a whisper. "They will call me an alien, throw me into a dungeon and kill me. I know."

The concept of aliens and monsters beyond human understanding has become increasingly popular in this era, with rumours circulating about strange, otherworldly creatures inhabiting the Earth. In a sense, you can relate to those suspicions, for you feel like an alien yourself. The bizarre circumstances that brought you here remain a bewildering enigma. You woke up one fateful day in this body, trapped in a world that feels like an intricate dream.

At first, you believed it to be a nightmare, a surreal experience that couldn't possibly be real. But as the days turned into weeks and then months, you came to the unsettling realisation that this was your life now.

To your amazement, you found yourself in the body of a Joseon Dynasty princess, bearing an exact resemblance to your own appearance in your real life. It was a miraculous twist of fate that allowed you to maintain a semblance of who you once were, but it did little to ease the overwhelming sensation of displacement and the constant yearning for your old life.

You've pondered on it countless times, searching for answers in the depths of your thoughts. Perhaps, you've considered, this is your past life, some inexplicable twist of fate that has sent you hurtling through time. Maybe you were cursed, or perhaps it's a mysterious test that you've yet to fully comprehend. The truth eludes you, shrouded in the uncertainty of your bewildering existence.

You wish more than anything to return to your simple life, the one where you spent your days managing your café, where anonymity was your closest friend, and the only thing you had to worry about was choosing the right blend of coffee for your customers. How you long to wake up in your own bed, in your familiar house, where everything was just as it should be. You yearn for the simple pleasures of life, the mundane joys that once filled your days. The desire to relax in front of your TV and lose yourself in captivating TV shows, or to watch endless fancams of your favourite singers, immersing yourself in their artistry. You long to indulge in the music you love, to turn up the volume on your headphones, letting the melodies envelop your senses and transport you to a world of pure enjoyment.

Those ordinary comforts, the sounds of the city, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the warmth of your own home, are like a distant memory that you yearn to embrace once more.

“Which is why you must keep it quiet,” Jiyun says, her voice full of remorse for you. Jiyun is someone you are forever grateful for.

“Have you found anything to help me get back?”

“Unfortunately, I have yet to find anything of use. The library has many books, yet most of them are just theories.”

Despite the unsettling rumours and tales of aliens and monsters that have gripped the world, Jiyun has remained steadfast in her commitment to keeping you safe. She's been your guiding light, helping you navigate the complexities of this unfamiliar existence. She knows the challenges you face, and the gravity of her responsibility in ensuring your well-being to protect the princess.

Jiyun understands the enormity of your predicament, and she's tirelessly devoted herself to helping you find a way to make sense of this uncanny journey. Her support and guidance are the threads that keep you anchored in this tumultuous world, offering a glimmer of hope amid the chaos that surrounds you.

"Only ever theories. Perhaps we can discover something beyond what's written in books?" you suggest, searching for an elusive solution to your predicament.

"As much as I would love to inquire with others, your highness, you know my limitations in this matter," Jiyun responds, her voice tinged with regret.

You sigh, frustration gnawing at you. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm just feeling desperate."

Jiyun moves closer, her gaze unwavering, and she bows to you with a warm smile. "We will find a way, your highness. We won't give up."

You offer a grateful smile to Jiyun, her unwavering support, a source of solace in your bewildering existence. She continues, her tone shifting to one of urgency, "Though we must get going. The banquet is to begin prominently."

With a nod, you gather your strength, determined to face the palace banquet and the demands of your role as the princess, even as you yearn for answers and a way back to the life you once knew.

Making your way to the grand banquet hall, you can't help but be awestruck by the opulence and grandeur that surrounds you. The palace's opulent architecture and intricate detailing are a testament to the wealth and power of the king and queen, your parents. Elaborate tapestries hang from the walls, depicting scenes from the dynasty's rich history, and the flickering torch light casts a warm, inviting glow over the intricate designs.

The double doors to the banquet hall swing open, and you step inside. The sight that meets your eyes is nothing short of breathtaking. The hall is a symphony of colours and textures, all bathed in a soft, golden light. Golden silk drapes adorn the walls, cascading like waterfalls of molten sunshine. The ceiling is an intricate masterpiece, a mosaic of gilded patterns and frescoes that tell the stories of the dynasty's heroes and legends.

The long, ornate banquet tables stretch out before you, covered in sumptuous silks and adorned with glistening china and golden cutlery. Each place setting is a work of art, meticulously crafted and sparkling under the ambient light. The scent of exotic, mouthwatering dishes wafts through the air, making your stomach rumble with anticipation.

The room is alive with a hum of activity as nobles and dignitaries from far and wide mingle, their lavish robes and headdresses sparkling with jewels and precious gems. The clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation create a melodious background to the visual spectacle before you.

In the centre of the hall, a grand dais stands proudly, and it's upon this elevated platform that the throne awaits you, its back adorned with a shimmering tapestry depicting the dynasty's emblem. The throne itself is an ornate masterpiece, a creation of carved mahogany and gilded detailing, with plush velvet cushions in rich crimson and gold.

Stepping forward, you can't help but feel like an intruder in this world. The weight of the princess's responsibilities is almost suffocating, but you have no choice but to carry them with grace and dignity. Jiyun, your loyal confidante, is at your side, her presence a reassuring anchor in this sea of uncertainty.

The banquet hall seems to stretch on endlessly, filled with revelry and celebration. The nobles and dignitaries bow respectfully as you pass, their eyes filled with awe and respect. It's a strange dichotomy, for you are not truly the princess they believe you to be, but you play the part with grace and poise.

The table settings are a masterpiece of artistry and craftsmanship. The fine china glimmers in the soft light, reflecting the golden theme of the banquet. Each plate holds a gastronomic masterpiece, a culinary journey of exotic flavours and textures, from delicate dumplings to succulent roasted meats.

The banquet hall is filled with laughter, music, and the intoxicating scent of spices and incense. The musicians play traditional melodies on intricate instruments, filling the air with their enchanting tunes. Dancers in resplendent costumes move gracefully, their motions mirroring the flowing silk of their dresses.

Taking your place on the grand throne, next to your parents, you can't help but be overwhelmed by the majesty of it all. The banquet hall is a breathtaking display of wealth and culture, a testament to the dynasty's grandeur and history. You are a stranger in this world, but for now, you must play your part as the princess, all the while longing for answers and a way back to the life you left behind.

"Why the delay, daughter?" your father inquires in a hushed tone, his curiosity evident as he awaits your arrival.

"I apologise, Father," you respond, bowing your head as a sign of respect. "It took longer than expected to prepare."

"Have no worry, my dear," your mother chimes in from beside you, her voice filled with warmth.

Over the two months that you've spent in this strange world, you've come to realise how caring and kind the queen is. Her compassion is matched by your father's unyielding strength and determination. Together, they make a formidable team that rules their kingdom with wisdom and grace. Their subjects hold them in high regard, and the feeling is reciprocated.

The bond between your parents is evident to all who know them. Their love is the bedrock of the dynasty, and it resonates in every aspect of their rule. The kingdom flourishes under their leadership, and it's clear that they not only love their people but are deeply loved by them in return.

The grand banquet commences with a flourish of activity. The banquet hall is now abuzz with life as nobles and dignitaries from all corners of the kingdom gather, their resplendent attire creating a kaleidoscope of colours that mirrors the opulence of the event. The rich, melodic sounds of traditional instruments and the rhythmic beat of drums fill the air, setting the stage for a night of revelry.

The banquet tables are a sight to behold, adorned with golden candelabras that cast a warm, flickering light over the ornate settings. The aroma of exquisite dishes wafts through the hall, a symphony of flavours and spices that tempt the senses. Guests fill their plates with delicacies, from succulent roasted meats to fragrant rice dishes, each bite a culinary delight.

You, too, are captivated by the festivities. For a moment, your worries and the strangeness of your situation melt away. You find yourself caught up in the joy of the evening, watching as people laugh, chat, and share stories, the room alive with the clinking of glasses and the gentle hum of conversation.

The dance floor is a whirlwind of vibrant colours and graceful movement. Dancers in splendid attire twirl and spin, their footsteps matching the rhythm of the music. The dancers' costumes shimmer as they move, creating a visual spectacle that enchants all who watch.

At the head of the banquet hall, your father, the king, stands engaged in conversation with a group of merchants and nobles. He listens attentively to their concerns and disputes, displaying the unwavering resolve and wisdom that have earned him the respect of his subjects. Your mother, the queen, stands beside him, offering her insights and guidance, her caring nature a comforting presence amidst the discussions.

As you watch your parents in action, it's clear how they've earned the love and admiration of their people. The way they handle disputes and settle matters demonstrates their commitment to maintaining peace and justice within the kingdom. The hall may be filled with merriment, but their responsibilities as rulers are never far from their minds.

However, amidst the festivities and the rhythmic music, a strange feeling creeps over you. It's as if an invisible force is tugging at your senses, urging you to pay attention. Your gaze is drawn to the towering double doors that lead into the banquet hall, their grandeur a stark contrast to the vibrant revelry within.

You can't quite put your finger on it, but an unease washes over you, and you sense that something significant is about to happen. It's as if the very air in the room holds its breath, waiting for the storm that's about to descend. Your heart races, and you can't shake the feeling that those two wide doors may soon reveal a momentous event that will change the course of the evening and, perhaps, your own destiny.

"Jiyun," you call out to your trusted maid, and she appears at your side with remarkable swiftness, her head respectfully bowed.

"Yes, your majesty?" she replies, her voice filled with unwavering loyalty.

"Have you sensed it too?" you inquire, a tinge of apprehension in your voice.

"Sense what, your majesty?" Jiyun asks, her eyes focused on your every word.

"The feeling that something unexpected is about to transpire," you explain, your gaze shifting toward the grand doors as if they hold the key to the looming uncertainty.

The second you utter your words to Jiyun, a sense of foreboding hangs heavy in the air, and the atmosphere in the banquet hall takes on an eerie stillness. Before you can even finish your sentence, the grand double doors, adorned with exquisite carvings, burst open with a thunderous boom, sending the revelry to an abrupt halt.

In a chaotic rush, two guards burst into the hall, struggling to restrain a shirtless man who seems to be writhing and resisting their grasp. The unexpected intrusion sends ripples of shock through the assembled nobles and dignitaries. The musicians abruptly silence their instruments, and the dancers come to a standstill, their expressions a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

The king and the queen, who had been engaged in discussions with the merchants, rose swiftly from their thrones. Their expressions shift from surprise to stern authority as they take in the unfolding scene.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" the king bellows, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. His words echo throughout the grand hall, quelling the previous merriment with an air of solemnity. The sudden silence is broken only by the shuffling of feet as the guards continue to drag the shirtless man toward the thrones, his struggles growing more frenzied. It appears as if the man has tattoos adorned all over his body and for some reason you cannot help but have an awful feeling of recognition as you peer at him.

The queen stands regally at the king's side, her countenance reflecting a mixture of concern and determination. The courtiers in attendance exchange hushed whispers, speculating on the nature of the commotion, while a palpable tension fills the room.

The shirtless man's writhing and protests become more desperate, and his incoherent mutterings are barely discernible over the hushed murmurs of the crowd. The guards eventually manage to bring him to a halt, though his wild, dishevelled appearance remains a stark contrast to the opulence of the banquet hall. Throughout all of this, his head remains bowed, nobody able to see his face.

The man is positioned before the thrones, on his knees, the king's piercing gaze fixates on him, his face an impenetrable mask of authority and curiosity. The queen, her hand resting lightly on the arm of the throne, watches with an unwavering presence. The courtiers wait with bated breath, their eyes darting between the king, the queen, and the dishevelled intruder, uncertain of what will transpire next in this unexpected turn of events.

The dishevelled intruder, who had been forcibly brought before the king, stands silent and disoriented as the guards explain their discovery.

“We found him outside the palace, lurking and behaving suspiciously, which prompted our cautious approach.” The guard's voices are tense as they speak, “this man, in his moments of distress, declared that is from a different time, claiming he does not belong here.”

The king and queen share nervous glances before peering back at the guards who are cautiously watching over the man.

“Your highnesses, I fear that he is an alien.”

The hushed shock that washes over the assembly is palpable. Whispers of fear and disbelief ripple through the room like an unsettling breeze. The nobles and courtiers exchange uneasy glances, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

The king, his brows furrowed in contemplation, leans forward on his throne, his eyes fixed on the man before him. The queen stands beside him, her poise unwavering as she assesses the unfolding situation.

The courtiers remain silent, awaiting the king's judgement.

In the midst of the whispers and speculation, the king calls upon the disoriented intruder, “lift your head boy, make your presence known.”

The man obeys, and as he raises his eyes to meet the king's gaze, a collective gasp sweeps through the room.

Your heart stops in your chest and you cannot believe your eyes.

The man who stands before you bears a striking resemblance to San from Ateez, the boy group you fervently fangirled over in your previous world. His appearance, his features, the way he holds himself, all are uncannily reminiscent of your idol.

His eyes scan the bewildering faces of the courtiers, and it's evident that he's utterly lost and bewildered in this foreign world. His expression reflects a deep sense of longing, as if he's desperately searching for a familiar face or a comforting presence.

"What is your name, young man?" the queen questions, her voice carrying a tone of cautious empathy. It's clear that she feels a sense of compassion for the disoriented intruder, even as the mystery of his presence looms.

"Choi San," he responds, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and confusion.

The moment those two simple words leave his lips, a wave of emotion crashes over you. It's not just the sight of an idol you adore, but the realisation that he, too, has been uprooted from his world and thrust into this unfamiliar one, much like yourself. The overwhelming weight of this revelation washes over you.

“He doesn't look like an alien.” the king says, his eyes scanning San diligently.

“I’m not, I swear. I have no idea where I am. I woke up and I was in this random forest surrounded by people I have never seen before.”

"Show respect to your king and queen," the guard to Choi San's left commands, his voice stern and unyielding. With a swift motion, he strikes San's back, causing him to stumble forward and crash onto the polished floor. San's palms catch his fall just in the nick of time, and you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. The image of his fall, the vulnerability of the idol you used to admire, stirs a mixture of emotions within you.

The desire to rush down there, to offer comfort and understanding, wells up within you. You long to convey to him that you share the same strange predicament, that you, too, have been thrust into this unfamiliar world. But you understand the delicate balance that hangs in the air, the potential for suspicion and chaos that could arise if your secret were to be revealed.

The room watches in tense silence as San struggles to regain his composure. He rises to his feet, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion etched on his face. His eyes dart around the room, searching for some semblance of familiarity, some connection to the world he once knew.

You can't help but notice the vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and assistance. Your heart aches for him, knowing that you share this extraordinary journey and the burden of its mysteries. But for now, you remain on your elevated throne, concealing your true identity and the emotional turmoil that brews beneath the surface, for the sake of the kingdom, the king, and the queen who have so graciously extended their protection and hospitality to you.

The air in the grand banquet hall crackles with tension, as everyone grapples with the enigma of the stranger who claims to be from a different time, a supposed alien who defies all reason and explanation. The room remains suspended in a moment of uncertainty, and the world as you know it seems to hang in the balance, poised on the brink of an extraordinary revelation.

You exchange a swift, knowing glance with Jiyun, her eyes are filled with concern, mirroring the emotions that churn within you.

“Show him to the dungeon, tomorrow he will be sent back to where he belongs.” The king bellows, his voice stern as your eyes narrow in fear.

In a fleeting moment, San's eyes lock with yours, and your heart leaps in your chest. The intensity of that brief connection sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't restrain the tears that well up in your eyes as you witness the guard seizing him and forcibly dragging him away from the grand hall.

A sense of dread envelops you, and the heaviness in your chest becomes suffocating. You share a wordless glance with Jiyun, who is already formulating a plan to aid San. Her gaze meets yours, and she nods gently, a silent assurance that she is committed to helping him. With that unspoken understanding, the weight that had burdened your heart begins to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope that you may be able to make a difference in this unexpected turn of events.

With a deep breath, you compose yourself as the king commands the musicians to resume their melodies. The haunting, suspended atmosphere in the room gradually gives way to the spirited tunes of the instruments, infusing the space with renewed vitality. The mood in the grand banquet hall begins to shift, and the weight of the unexpected intrusion is momentarily eased by the enchanting melodies that fill the air.

The grand palace lies hushed and dark, save for the soft, flickering glow of the torches that line the hallways. It's the deep of night, the hour when even the most vigilant souls have succumbed to slumber. The world outside your window is cloaked in darkness, with only a few distant stars punctuating the sky.

In the seclusion of your chamber, you pace restlessly, the pattern of your footsteps a silent testament to your growing anxiety. The ornate furnishings and intricate tapestries seem to close in around you, their grandeur and opulence providing little comfort. You can't stop your heart from racing in your chest, its frenetic rhythm echoing the turmoil of your thoughts.

You cast occasional glances at the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the first pale light of dawn, a harbinger of the world's awakening. Your hope lies in the arrival of Jiyun, who promised to fetch something that might provide a connection between you and San, the ‘stranger’ who shares your extraordinary predicament.

Minutes stretch into hours as you wait in solitude, each moment feeling like an eternity. The silence in the palace is profound, the hush of night amplifying every creak of the floor and rustle of the curtains. You can almost hear the beating of your own heart, a relentless reminder of your desperate circumstances.

As the night wears on, you recall the mysterious events that unfolded during the banquet. The revelation of San's presence, the shared bond of otherworldly displacement, and the unspoken promise of hope—all weigh heavily on your mind. You can't help but wonder if there's a connection between the two of you that defies all logic, a connection that Jiyun might be able to unearth.

The anticipation gnaws at you, the longing for answers and a sense of purpose driving you to pace even faster. You're acutely aware of the significance of the cloth Jiyun is meant to bring, and the potential it holds to unveil the truth of your peculiar journey.

With each passing moment, your anxiety intensifies, and the minutes tick away, carrying with them the uncertainty of your fate. You can only hope that the arrival of dawn will herald the arrival of Jiyun and, perhaps, the answers you so desperately seek.

As you continue to pace around your room, the waiting becomes almost unbearable. The faintest light begins to seep through the edges of your window, heralding the impending dawn. Just when your hope is beginning to wane, a soft knock at the door breaks the silence.

You rush to the door and swing it open to reveal Jiyun, her face etched with determination. In her hands, she holds a folded piece of cloth and a small bottle containing a mysterious liquid. She steps inside your chamber, and you close the door behind her.

"The plan is ready," Jiyun says, her voice a hushed whisper. "I've brought the cloth and this," she adds, indicating the small bottle. "The liquid inside will temporarily incapacitate the guard who protects the dungeon. It should give you enough time to get the man out of there."

Relief washes over you as you take the cloth and the bottle from Jiyun. The weight of your purpose now feels tangible, as if a glimmer of hope has emerged from the depths of the night.

You listen intently as Jiyun outlines the plan, the details falling into place like pieces of a puzzle. Your heart pounds in your chest, but there is a newfound determination within you. The connection you feel with San, the shared journey you both unknowingly embarked upon, has given you a sense of purpose that propels you forward.

Jiyun hands you a bag filled with essential supplies. Her voice is steady but laced with concern as she explains the plan. "I can provide for you for three days, maybe four at most, without raising suspicion. Within that time, either you or the true princess must return."

You contemplate the necessity of your absence and inquire, "What reason will you give for my absence?"

Jiyun's eyes convey a deep sense of loyalty as she replies, "I will inform them that you've contracted a highly contagious sickness that has left you bedridden and wanting to see no one."

You nod, absorbing the gravity of the situation. Gratitude wells up within you as you look at Jiyun, her gentle smile a source of reassurance. "Thank you, Jiyun. I realise the danger you're putting yourself in for my sake. Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed, and I am profoundly grateful for your unwavering support."

“You would do the same for me, I’m sure.”

With the bag of supplies and Jiyun's invaluable guidance in mind, you make your way through the palace's labyrinthine corridors and hidden passages. The palace, under the cover of night, seems to take on a different character—a mysterious, almost haunting quality. Torches line the narrow passageways, casting long, flickering shadows on the ancient stone walls as you move stealthily through the dark.

The secrets of these passages, entrusted to you by Jiyun, are your lifeline in this mission. You navigate the intricate network with practised ease, ensuring that your movements are discreet, and your presence remains shrouded in the veil of night.

Finally, you reach the entrance to the dungeon, your heart pounding in your chest. Peeking around the corner, you spot the guard responsible for its protection, pacing up and down before the heavy wooden door. The flickering torchlight casts eerie shadows across his face, and the faint echoes of his footsteps reverberate through the corridor.

With impeccable timing, you wait for the moment when the guard turns his back to you, his attention momentarily diverted. Swiftly, you uncap the small bottle and pour its contents onto the cloth, making sure to keep your own hands clear of the liquid. The chemical scent is pungent, and you struggle to suppress a cough as you press the cloth to your mouth to avoid inhaling it.

As the guard's boots echo down the corridor away from you, you seize the opportunity. Soundlessly, you move closer to him, each step taken with the utmost care. With one hand gripping the cloth and the other steadying your movements, you approach him from behind.

When the guard looks away, his focus on the dimly lit passage beyond, you seize your chance. The cloth is pressed firmly against his mouth, and you brace for a moment of hesitation, uncertain of the outcome. The seconds stretch into eternity, but eventually, the guard's struggles wane, and his eyelids droop heavily.

He crumples to the stone floor, unconscious, his keys jangling as they hang from his belt. You offer a silent apology to the fallen guard before deftly retrieving the keys. With trembling hands, you unlock the heavy door to the dungeon, the creaking hinges echoing through the silence of the underground chamber.

The dungeon lies before you, a foreboding abyss. The uncertainty of what awaits within gnaws at you, but your determination is unwavering. The answers that may await you drive you forward as you step into the darkness of the dungeon, the flickering torchlight casting long, wavering shadows on the stone walls.

As you step into the dimly lit dungeon, you carry a candle torch to guide your way through the labyrinthine corridors. The passageway is narrow and oppressive, the cold stone walls seemingly bearing witness to the suffering of countless souls who have languished within its confines.

The cries and wails of the imprisoned echo off the damp stone, reaching your ears with haunting intensity. Desperate pleas for help, mournful laments, and the sound of hands beating against iron bars form a dissonant chorus that seems to reverberate through the very walls themselves.

Each cell you pass houses a new tragedy, a new story of despair, and it takes all your strength to press on, to bear witness to the suffering around you. As you move deeper into the dungeon, the cries of the prisoners grow louder, more heart-wrenching, and your heart aches with empathy for their plight.

But as you reach the very end of the corridor, a silence that is almost palpable falls upon you. It is a silence that is too profound, too ominous, and your heart clenches within your chest as you peer into the last cell. The flickering candlelight reveals a scene that fills you with dread.

There, in the corner of the cell, you find San, curled up in a small, trembling ball. His face is etched with exhaustion and fear, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and despair. The harsh, cold stones of the dungeon floor serve as his only comfort in this nightmarish world.

You approach the cell, your steps careful and measured, your candle torch casting eerie, flickering shadows on the walls. As you draw closer, you can see the anguish etched into San's features, his ragged clothing and unkempt appearance a testament to the trials he has endured in this unforgiving place.

Your heart goes out to him, the connection you share with this stranger deepening with each passing moment. The dungeon, with its heavy atmosphere and its occupants' mournful cries, bears witness to the suffering of many, but it is San's vulnerability and isolation that capture your attention.

"San," you whisper, your voice a soft, comforting presence in the dimly lit cell. He turns toward you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, a reflection of the pain and fear that have plagued him.

"Please don't hurt me," his trembling words break your heart, and you struggle to hold back your own tears as you witness his vulnerability.

With gentle assurance, you reply, "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise." Your words are a lifeline, a beacon of hope for the scared and confused young man before you. With the keys in hand, you unlock the cell door and step inside.

San's eyes search your face, filled with a mix of disbelief and curiosity as you offer him some food from your bag. He hesitates before accepting, his trust gradually building as he takes the sustenance you provide.

"Why are you here then? You're the princess, aren't you?" San questions, his voice quivering with uncertainty.

With a deep breath, you choose your words carefully, wanting to ease his fears. "This might sound crazy, but I think we're from the same world."

San's eyes widen in astonishment, his disbelief slowly giving way to hope as he watches you closely. He lifts himself onto his knees to be closer to your level, the shadows of the cell casting eerie patterns on the walls.

"Really? How do you know?" San asks, his voice filled with a glimmer of expectation.

You offer a reassuring smile and pose a question that will connect your two worlds. "Well, I know you're San, Choi San from Ateez, right?"

San's eyes glisten with tears of relief, his voice quivering with emotion as he confirms, "Yes, yes, yes. I am. I'm from Ateez, and it's 2023, not the 1300s." The weight that had burdened his heart is lifted, and the possibility of a return to the world he knows is within his reach. He continues, “what is happening? How did we end up here?”

“I’ll explain as we walk, we need to get out of here.”

San's confusion lingers, but the glimmer of hope in his eyes grows stronger as he stands up. With a sense of newfound determination, the two of you make your way out of the cell, leaving the door unlocked behind you. As you exit the dungeon, you can't help but glance back, knowing that you've left behind the shadows of suffering that still haunt its depths.

Together, you navigate the secret passages that brought you to the dungeon, retracing your steps with the candle torch guiding your way. The path is familiar to you now, and with San by your side, it feels like the journey is filled with a sense of purpose and unity.

The passageway eventually leads you to the royal stables, a place of shadows and echoes, where the silence of the night surrounds you. Jiyun's foresight is evident as you find a horse tethered and ready for your departure. It's a magnificent creature, a steed fit for a princess, and its presence is a testament to Jiyun's unwavering support.

You help San mount the horse, his grip on the reins steady but cautious. The animal is surprisingly calm and cooperative, as if it senses the urgency of your mission. With San in the saddle, you mount your own horse, and together, you prepare to ride into the night.

Making your way out of the royal stables, the world outside awaits you, shrouded in darkness. The streets of the ancient city are quiet, its occupants fast asleep, unaware of the extraordinary events that are unfolding within the palace walls.

The night air is cool and refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of hooves hitting the cobblestone streets resonates through the quiet city. You ride with determination, guiding your horses through the labyrinthine streets, following the route that Jiyun has carefully planned.

With each passing moment, you draw closer to the edge of the city, your breath visible in the cold night air. The feeling of freedom, of escaping the palace and its secrets, surges through you. You and San are bound by an unspoken connection, a shared journey that defies time and place.

The town's lights grow distant, you can't help but steal a glance at San, who rides beside you. His face, once etched with fear and confusion, now carries a glimmer of hope. In the silence of the night, the world holds its breath, and the weight of the unknown future rests on your shoulders.

Together, you ride toward the horizon, leaving behind the palace and the secrets that shroud your extraordinary journey. The path ahead is uncertain, but the possibilities are boundless, and in the darkness of the night, you find a shared purpose that unites your fates in this unfamiliar world.

You and San ride through the night, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the cobblestone streets gradually fading into the distance. The ancient city of the palace is left behind, its towering walls and mysteries hidden in the darkness.

The first light of dawn tints the horizon and you continue on your journey, venturing into the unknown.

Hours pass, and you ride together, the bond of your shared experience growing stronger with each mile that falls behind you. The quietude of the countryside surrounds you, the only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the gentle song of birds in the distance. San wishes to ask questions, he has thousands on his mind, yet he stays silent as the two of you continue your journey.

Finally, on the horizon, a small town comes into view. Its quaint cottages and bustling marketplaces offer a glimpse of civilization in the midst of the open countryside. With each step you take, you hope to find reassurance and a glimmer of hope in this unfamiliar place.

You and San guide your horses toward the town, a sense of anticipation filling your hearts. The town represents a new beginning, a place where your shared journey can find some direction, where answers may await you, and where the extraordinary circumstances that have brought you together may start to make sense.

Approaching the town's outskirts, the warmth of the rising sun casts a golden glow on the streets and rooftops, and the townsfolk go about their daily routines, unaware of the two strangers who have arrived on horseback.

Among the quaint buildings, you spot a charming cottage with a wooden sign hanging above the door, which reads "The Golden Horseshoe Inn." The inviting aroma of freshly baked bread wafts through the open windows, and the cheerful hum of conversation emanates from within.

You dismount from your horses and tether them to a nearby post before entering the inn. The interior is cosy and warm, with wooden beams and rustic furnishings. A fireplace crackles in the corner, casting a gentle, flickering light that dances across the room. A friendly innkeeper stands behind the bar, wiping down mugs and chatting with a group of locals.

Approaching the innkeeper, you offer a polite smile and address them. "Good morning. My friend and I are in need of a place to stay. Do you have any rooms available?"

The innkeeper returns your smile with a warm one of their own and nods. "How long will you be staying?"

You exchange a quick glance with San before answering. "We're not entirely sure. Perhaps a few days to start with."

The innkeeper retrieves a key from a nearby rack and hands it to you. "Very well. We have a couple of rooms upstairs. You can choose the one you prefer."

You thank the innkeeper and head upstairs with San, the creaking wooden steps leading you to a hallway lined with doors. The rooms are simple but comfortable, each furnished with a bed, a small writing desk, and a window that overlooks the bustling street below.

After inspecting a couple of rooms, you settle on one with a cosy, inviting atmosphere. You take out some coins and return downstairs to pay for the room. The innkeeper accepts your payment with a friendly smile, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief at having found a safe haven in this new world.

With the key to your room in hand, you make your way back upstairs with San.

The moment you are in the room, you hand San some more comfortable clothes than the rags he is currently wearing.

“I forgot to give you these earlier, I’m sorry. Go change, I’ll wait outside.”

"Thank you…" San trails off, his voice tinged with gratitude but hesitating as he doesn't know your name.

You offer a warm smile and reply with your name. San's eyes light up as he hears your name, and he nods in appreciation. With that, you exit the room, leaving him some privacy to get ready.

While San prepares for the day, you make your way downstairs to the inn's tavern, which is located beneath the lodging area. The scent of fresh bread and brewed coffee fills the air, creating a cosy and welcoming ambiance. You take a seat at a wooden table and glance around the room, observing the locals who are starting their day with hearty breakfasts and lively conversation.

You place an order for two breakfasts, ensuring that San will have a warm meal to start the day. As you wait for the food to arrive, you reflect on the journey that has brought you to this new world and the newfound bond you share with San. The townsfolk, too, go about their daily routines, their world untouched by the extraordinary circumstances that have reshaped your lives.

Sitting at the wooden table in the cosy tavern beneath the inn, your gaze is drawn to the staircase that leads down from the upper rooms. Moments later, you watch as San descends the stairs, his steps graceful and fluid.

Even in the plain, old clothes he now wears, there's an undeniable magnetism about him. His raven-black hair framing his face, his features are striking, and his presence exudes a certain charisma that you recognize immediately. It's as if he possesses a natural star quality, a glow that transcends time and place.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you observe him. The way he moves, the confidence in his steps, and the undeniable aura that surrounds him—these are the very qualities that made him an idol in your world. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs and meets your gaze, you exchange a knowing look.

It becomes clear to you that the essence of who San is goes beyond his role as a performer. His appeal, his talent, and his undeniable charm are deeply rooted in his very being. You appreciate that there's more to him than meets the eye, and the unique connection you share in this extraordinary journey only deepens your admiration for the person who is not just an idol but also a fellow traveller in this unfamiliar world.

San takes a seat in front of you at the wooden table, his eyes filled with gratitude as he speaks quietly, "Thank you so much for the help."

"Of course," you reply with a warm smile, appreciating the opportunity to assist someone in this unfamiliar world.

Curiosity sparks in San's eyes as he leans in slightly, his interest piqued. "So how did you know it was me, from Ateez?"

You consider the question for a moment before deciding to reveal the truth. "Well, in our world..." you begin, hesitating for a brief moment.

San's eyes widen with surprise, and he leans in closer, eager to hear more. "What is it?"

You lower your voice, as if sharing a secret. "I may or may not be an Atiny, and I recognized you right away."

A smile spreads across San's face, and a sense of camaraderie fills the air as you both share this unexpected connection. In this extraordinary world and situation, your shared love for Ateez transcends time and place, and you find comfort in the bond that links you together.

"Seriously?" San's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and disbelief.

You nod, your voice earnest as you reply, "Yes, why would I lie about it?"

San chuckles softly, still trying to process the information. "I don't know, that's actually insane, though."

You can't help but smile at his reaction. "I guess so."

San's curiosity shifts to a topic that seems of utmost importance to him. "Who is your bias?"

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your face. "Is that really what's important right now?"

San's eyes widen, his tone as serious as if discussing a crucial matter. "Yes, very important."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you respond, "It's a secret."

San grumbles and rolls his eyes, his familiar antics making you giggle. It's reassuring to see that, despite the extraordinary circumstances, he remains somewhat himself from the world you both know.

After taking a bite of his bread, San shifts the conversation, his expression curious. "What do you do? You know, in our world."

You offer a genuine smile as you share your passion. "Oh, I run a cafe in Seoul."

San's face lights up with enthusiasm. "That's so nice! Where is it?"

"It's actually really close to the KQ building, next to the flower shop."

San's eyes widen in realisation. "Wait, really? That's very close. I'll stop by there when we get out."

A bittersweet smile crosses your face as you admit, "If it's still in business."

San's concern deepens as he probes further. "What do you mean?"

You meet his gaze and explain, "Business was really slow when I was there. I've been gone for a few months now, so I doubt it'll still be open."

San's expression turns serious as he processes your words. "Wait a second... a few months?" The realisation dawns on him, and he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and understanding, as the magnitude of your situation sinks in.

“Yeah, I haven’t had the chance to get out due to being a princess,” you look up at San, your eyes grateful as you look at him, “which is why it’s so great you are here. It feels like I have a chance to get home.”

San smiles at you, sympathy and understanding in his eyes as he realises how long you've been trapped in this world. But then, a spark of curiosity ignites in his gaze.

"So, what was the last thing you remember before getting here?" San inquires, his voice filled with intrigue.

You furrow your brow, the memories of that moment still vivid. "I was working in the cafe, and all of a sudden, it just went black. When I woke up, I was in the palace."

San nods in recognition, a shared experience that links your worlds. "Me too," he admits, "I was practising for our comeback. It suddenly went black, and I heard Hongjoong yelling my name. But when I woke up, I was in the forest, wearing the same clothes I had in my 'Warriors' music video."

Your curiosity piques as you catch a detail you hadn't expected. "Wait a second. What music video?"

San's eyes widen with enthusiasm as he realises that you've been out of touch with their latest work. "Oh, you haven't seen it because you've been here!" he exclaims. "I did a dance cover, and that's why I have these tattoos."

You chuckle at his response. "I was wondering if you had gotten so many tattoos in two months."

San laughs, appreciating your humour. "It was just part of the concept. We filmed it in front of the Gyeongbokgung Palace."

San's words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you find yourself needing to clarify the astonishing coincidence.

"What did you just say?" you inquire, your voice tinged with amazement.

San blinks, seemingly unaware of the profound revelation that's unfolding. "What?"

You lean in closer, your eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition. "Gyeongbokgung. I went there a few months ago, a week before I appeared here. How long has it been since you've been there?"

San's eyes widen in realisation as the pieces of the puzzle start to align. "Uh, well, it was filmed on Wednesday, so... a week ago. Wait."

The implications of your shared experiences weigh heavy on your minds. The timing and location seem more than just a coincidence. It's as if a bridge between two worlds has been formed, connecting the moments you both mysteriously entered this unfamiliar reality.

"You went there a week ago yesterday?" you inquire, your mind racing as the pieces of the puzzle align.

San's eyes light up with realisation as he nods eagerly. "Then it must be something related to Gyeongbokgung!"

The shared excitement between you and San is palpable as you uncover this incredible connection. Gyeongbokgung, the place where you both last remember being in your respective worlds before finding yourselves in this strange new reality, is the common link that binds your experiences.

"We should go there now," you suggest, a sense of urgency in your voice. "It should be here around this time, maybe we can find something to help us."

San nods enthusiastically, his focus now on finishing his meal as quickly as possible. He stuffs down his food, eager to expedite your departure.

Once his mouth is free of food, San inquires, "Do you have a map?"

"Ah, yes," you reply, reaching into your bag to retrieve the map that Jiyun had thoughtfully packed for your journey. Carefully, you unspread the map on the wooden table.

"Okay, so we should be here right now," you say, tracing your location with a finger, "then Gyeongbokgung will be…"

San's eyes follow your finger as he points towards the parchment, spotting the small letters displaying 'palace.' "I see it."

You calculate the distance and the remaining daylight. "If we leave now, we can make it before sundown."

San's determination matches yours as he eagerly exclaims, "Then what are we waiting for?"

With your destination set and a shared purpose driving you forward, you and San finish your meal, gather your belongings, and prepare to embark on a journey that may hold the key to unravelling the mysteries of your extraordinary situation. The tavern, once filled with chatter and the clinking of mugs, now watches you both as you stand, ready to venture into the unknown in search of answers.

You and San make your way to the stable where your horses were kept. The sun is still high in the sky, and a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the nearby trees. As you approach the stable, the familiar scent of hay and leather fills the air.

However, as you step into the stable, a sense of unease washes over you. One of the stalls is empty, and you immediately notice that your horse is missing. Panic begins to rise within you.

San senses your distress and looks around, his expression mirroring your concern. "Where's your horse?"

You hurry over to the stable keeper, who is tending to the remaining horses. "Excuse me," you say, trying to keep your voice steady, "my horse is missing. Do you know what happened?"

The stable keeper wipes his hands on a cloth and turns to face you. "I'm so sorry, miss. When I went to get their food, your horse got spooked and ran off into the woods. I tried to catch it, but it was too fast."

Your heart sinks at the news, and you exchange a worried glance with San. Losing a horse is a significant setback, and you'll need to find a solution to continue your journey.

San speaks up, "Is there any way we can track it or find it?"

The stable keeper scratches his head, deep in thought. "There are some villagers who know the woods well and might be able to help. But it could take some time."

With no other options, you share a glance with San.

“We can share mine, we have no time to look for it,” San offers and you let out a sharp exhale.

“Okay…”

The stable keeper helps you prepare the horse, ensuring that the saddle and reins are secure. It's not ideal, but you don't have much choice if you want to reach Gyeongbokgung Palace before sundown.

San climbs onto the horse, offering you a hand to help you up in front of him. Settling into the saddle, you can't help but feel the warmth of his presence close behind you. The two of you share a glance, and you notice his red cheeks.

San's concern for your comfort is evident, and he expresses it as you both share the horse. His apology for the close proximity reflects his consideration for your feelings.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I didn't expect us to be so close. I can move back a little if you want. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You offer a reassuring smile, eager to put his worries to rest. "It's okay, San. Let's just get to the palace."

Beginning to lead the horse in the direction of Gyeongbokgung Palace, San shifts his position on the saddle, inadvertently causing him to bump forward and press his chest against your back. A rush of warmth fills your cheeks, but you do your best to stay composed.

"I'm so sorry," San says, his face turning a shade of crimson. His embarrassment is evident, and you find his reaction endearing.

You guide the horse along the path, focusing on your destination, when San inquires, "Where should I put my hands?"

Your heart flutters at the question, and you're grateful that you’re facing forward so he doesn't see your flustered expression.

"Just wrap your arms around my waist," you reply. "I don't mind, really."

San hesitates, his concern still evident. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

You smile at his thoughtfulness but gently urge him, "San, please, just hurry up. We need to reach the palace before nightfall."

San follows your instructions and wraps his arms securely around your waist. His touch is gentle, yet you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. It causes you to momentarily lose focus, the surreal nature of the situation overwhelming your thoughts. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined being in this position with one of your favourite idols.

San's chest presses against your back, and you can sense the beating of his heart, echoing the rapid rhythm of your own. Both of you are embroiled in this unique experience, and you remain unaware of the thoughts racing through San's mind.

For San, the situation is equally unprecedented. His face is flushed with a bright shade of red, and he holds onto you with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. The proximity between the two of you, the shared adventure, and the bond that's forming in this extraordinary world are causing his heart to open up in ways he couldn't have anticipated.

With each moment that passes, your connection deepens, and you become a source of support and comfort for each other in this unfamiliar and often challenging world. It's a journey that neither of you could have predicted, but as you ride together, you find solace in the warmth of each other's presence.

Continuing your journey together, San's voice takes on a low, intimate tone. It's as if he wants to keep the conversation between the two of you, sharing this moment in the midst of your unusual adventure. His breath tickles your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"Tell me about yourself," he asks, his voice gentle and curious.

You find his proximity comforting and decide to share a piece of your past with him. "What do you want to know?"

San listens attentively, his breath soft against your ear. "What was your favourite part of running the cafe?"

You smile at the memory, feeling a sense of nostalgia for your old life. "I think my favourite part was seeing people come in, enjoying their coffee or a meal, and leaving with a smile. It was like creating a little oasis where people could take a break from their busy lives."

“That’s nice.” San's warm presence and the intimate conversation create a sense of connection that transcends the boundaries of time and place. You find yourself opening up to him, sharing stories from your past and learning more about his own experiences.

"I have an important question," San suddenly says, his tone becoming playful as he awaits your response.

You raise an eyebrow, mirroring his playful tone, "And what would that be, San?"

A mischievous glint dances in San's eyes as he asks, "What's your favourite Ateez song?"

You chuckle gently at his question. "I'm being serious!"

San's playful demeanour and the imagined pout in his voice make you smile. You can almost picture the look he's giving you, having seen countless videos of him making that expression.

"Okay, okay," you reply, "that's a tough question. I tend to like the b-sides more, to be honest."

San encourages you to share more, his curiosity piqued. You reflect for a moment before answering, "Turbulence and Mist have a special place in my heart."

"Really?" San's voice carries a warm and intriguing tone. "Why is that?"

You pause, considering your response. "Well, I was going through a really tough time a while ago. I don't know, these songs just feel like a warm hug. Like someone is there for me."

San listens intently to your words, his heart swelling with compassion and understanding. "I'm glad we could be there for you during that difficult time."

“Thank you,”

San's eyes soften, and his voice takes on a soothing tone as he responds, "You don't have to thank us. Music has a way of reaching people when they need it most, and it's an honour to know that our songs could be there for you during those difficult times."

Tears well up in your eyes as you remember the moments when you turned to music as your solace. You've found comfort and strength in the melodies and lyrics that resonated with your emotions. It's a powerful connection that transcends time and place, and it's something you and San now share.

Drawing closer to your destination, the palace towers in the distance become more prominent, the air is filled with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. The scenery around you is both breathtaking and mysterious, mirroring the unique connection that has grown between you.

San glances over at you, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Can I ask you something?"

You meet his gaze and offer a warm smile. "Of course."

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he finally asks, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question catches you slightly off guard, but you answer honestly, "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

San raises an eyebrow, and a playful smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I didn't expect that."

You chuckle at his response. "What do you mean by that?"

San's gaze softens, and he offers a sincere explanation. "Well, you're really kind, caring, and incredibly determined. Not to mention, you are very beautiful, I guess I thought someone like you would already have someone special in their life."

A heat creeps up on your cheeks as you feel a flutter in your heart. San's compliments catch you by surprise, and you find yourself at a loss for words for a moment. Burying your face in your hands to hide your flustered expression, San watches you with a fond expression.

You smile and say, "Thank you, San. You're pretty amazing yourself."

Hesitating for a moment, unsure if you should say this, you decide to speak. "I have a husband, though."

San's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "What do you mean? I thought you were single?"

You can't help but grin mischievously before you clarify, "His name is Mingi."

San's incredulous expression is almost comical. "Your bias is Mingi?"

You nod with a playful glint in your eye. "Yes. Why is that such a bad thing?"

San can't help but laugh, "It's not, Mingi is amazing, but come on? I'm here right now. I should be your bias."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing him further, "You have to earn it."

San scoffs before retorting, “what, did Mingi body roll his way into your bias spot?”

“Precisely.”

San leans in closer, a playful glint in his eye. "And what about my cyberpunk performance?"

You contemplate for a moment, then acknowledge with a nod, "Ooh, nice. I have to admit. But Mingi in bouncy was a whole snack."

San pretends to be offended, teasing you back, "What, are you a pervert?"

You protest, "No, you started it!" However, San’s laughter at your reaction causes a wide smile to grow on your face.

San's thoughts drift in the midst of the journey towards Gyeongbokgung Palace, he finds himself mesmerised not only by your unique personality but also by your captivating beauty. He can't help but be struck by the allure of your presence and the way the soft light of the setting sun enhances your features, making you glow in an almost ethereal manner.

To him, you are not just intriguing and kind, but you're also incredibly beautiful, inside and out. Your allure has a magnetic quality that pulls him in, leaving him in awe of the remarkable person he has come to know. The warmth he feels in his heart is not just from the shared connection but from the undeniable appreciation of your inner and outer beauty.

"San?" you question, noticing his distraction and wondering what has captured his attention so deeply.

San blinks, almost like he's been caught in the act of something secret, and quickly replies, "Yes!"

You can't help but chuckle at his somewhat startled expression. "We are here."

The magnificent Gyeongbokgung Palace stands before you, its grandeur and beauty making the journey worthwhile. You both dismount from the horse, and as you step onto the palace grounds, the weight of the world's mysteries and your unique connection continues to loom over your heads.

The palace grounds are a bustling hive of activity, even as the day inches towards twilight. Commoners from all walks of life have gathered to admire the magnificent architecture, wander through the lush gardens, and soak in the historical splendour of Gyeongbokgung Palace.

San and yourself make your way through the lively crowds, you discreetly raise a scarf to drape over your head, partially concealing your face. Though you are not accustomed to the recognition and respect bestowed upon you as a supposed princess in this world, you are aware that you must maintain your appearance. To the people here, you are not the cafe owner from Seoul but a royal figure who demands respect.

Your attire and the scarf shroud your identity, giving you a degree of anonymity as you navigate the palace's vast courtyards and intricate passageways. San walks alongside you, blending seamlessly into the throng of visitors, his presence a source of both comfort and companionship.

The whispers of the crowd, the laughter of children, and the gasps of awe as they take in the grandeur of the palace envelop you. It's a vivid reminder of the rich history that envelops you, and for a brief moment, you forget about the strangeness of the world you've been thrust into. The palace comes alive with the shared fascination of the visitors, and you and San are just two more among the countless souls wandering through its storied halls.

You are keenly aware of the importance of maintaining your facade as you traverse the palace. The scarf that conceals your features becomes your shield, protecting your true identity and allowing you to move freely among the people, your thoughts locked in a delicate balance between the two worlds you now inhabit.

Continuing to meander through the throngs of people, San leans in close to you and murmurs in your ear, "So, what exactly are we looking for?"

You contemplate for a moment, the palace's grandeur and historical significance surrounding you, before replying, "I don't know, maybe something that still exists in our world."

San offers a smile of approval, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's a good start. You're super smart."

You chuckle, appreciating the compliment but also trying to play it cool so he doesn't notice the way your heart beats faster, "Stop flattering me; it's not going to make you my bias."

San lets out a laugh and rolls his eyes playfully, his lips curving into a grin. "Well, it's worth a try, right?"

The two of you share a moment of lighthearted banter, the playfulness of your conversation providing a brief respite from the mysteries that shroud your current circumstances.

As you and San navigate the bustling palace, you suggest a plan, saying, "I'll go around the left, and you go around the right. It'll be quicker for us to split up." Your eyes dart around, on the lookout for any sign of noblemen or advisors who may recognize you.

San, however, appears concerned and holds your arm gently, restraining you from moving away. "What if you get in trouble?"

You smile reassuringly and reply, "I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you." You chuckle softly, trying to hide the fluttering sensation that his touch on your arm ignites. "Stay low, and please don't go around announcing you're from another world. If you end up in the dungeon, it won't be as easy for me to rescue you."

Your words carry a sense of caution, the weight of your shared journey growing more apparent as you prepare to part ways temporarily within the palace. It's a moment of both anticipation and apprehension, knowing that your decisions in this unfamiliar world can have unforeseen consequences.

"Just meet me back here in an hour," you say, giving San a warm smile before parting ways.

San nods, his expression affectionate and filled with genuine concern. "Stay safe."

With those parting words, you both venture into different directions within the bustling palace, each with your own quest and the hope of uncovering clues that may lead you closer to understanding the mysteries of your dual existence.

You methodically search through the palace, scouring every nook and cranny without raising suspicion. Every rock, every brick, and every detail of the architecture comes under your scrutiny, yet nothing stands out as the mysterious link between your two worlds. It's a challenging task, as you're not even entirely sure what you're looking for.

After what feels like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, you glance up at the position of the sun in the sky. The hour has nearly passed, and it's time to make your way back to the agreed meeting point. The crowd begins to thin, and you're aware of the increasing risk of drawing attention to yourself if you continue your search.

Heading back to the designated spot, you spot San already approaching, a sense of defeat etched on his face.

When he reaches you, he inquires, "Did you find anything?"

You shake your head, disappointment clear in your expression. "No, nothing. It's hard to look for something when we don't even know what we're searching for."

Desperation creeps into your voice as you continue, "Tell me everything that happened when you were filming, every small detail that could be significant."

San furrows his brows in deep thought, trying to recall every detail from that day. "Well, one of the dancers ripped his pants during a take. There was an odd rock that almost all of us tripped over at one point..."

You press him for more, your sense of urgency growing. "And what else?"

San's eyes light up with realisation. "I don't know if this is relevant, but there was this old lady. She wouldn't leave us alone unless we bought one of her tassels. The owner told us she's always there, selling charms and whatnot."

Your heart skips a beat as San mentions the old lady. The pieces start to fall into place, and you can't help but feel that you're on the verge of a breakthrough. "An old lady? I saw an old lady too! She sold me a charm to bring love into my life."

“She also sold me one for love!” San exclaims as the dots line up in his head also.

Walking together toward the area where your horse is stabled, you and San discuss the topic about the old lady.

"If only she were here right now," San grumbles, his lips forming a pout. "We could see if her charm is what made us end up here."

You both engage in light banter, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. The prospect of the old lady's charm being the catalyst for your parallel journeys is almost too surreal to contemplate.

Then, unexpectedly, something, no, someone captures your attention. Emerging from the grand palace doors is a woman who looks incredibly familiar. Your heart skips a beat as you experience a moment of déjà vu, as if the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you.

"San," you say, drawing the young man's attention. He had been aimlessly kicking around stones out of frustration.

"I think she's here right now," you explain, your voice quivering with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“I thought you were smart, that’s impossible,” San pivots to where you're looking, his eyes widening with shock upon seeing the woman exiting the palace.

In an instant, your eyes meet, and an unspoken understanding passes between you. You both know that you must act quickly to seize this unexpected opportunity.

Without a word, you take off running together in the direction of the woman, your hearts pounding with anticipation.

"Lady!" you yell, your voice echoing through the palace courtyard. Your cry catches her attention as you and San draw nearer, but instead of stopping to address you, she immediately turns and bolts away, disappearing into the forest.

Determined, you give chase, your heart pounding as you follow her into the dense woods. It's puzzling how an elderly woman can move so nimbly, but you're driven by the urgency of your quest.

After a few intense minutes of pursuit, you finally manage to close the gap. Your hand lands firmly on her shoulder, bringing her to an abrupt halt. The old lady, her breath laboured and eyes wide, is now captive in your grasp, and you're ready to seek the answers you've been searching for.

San is close behind the two of you and when he reaches you he places his hand on a nearby tree, trying to catch his breath.

"For an old lady, you're really fast," San exclaims, trying to catch his breath.

You can't help but chuckle at his dishevelled state. "Aren't you supposed to be really athletic?" you retort, teasing him lightly.

"In this world, no," San replies, catching his breath before turning his attention to the old lady. "Please, give us answers."

The old lady, her voice hoarse, attempts to catch her breath as well. "I don't know what you're talking about."

San looks at her with an expression of disbelief, as if he can't fathom her response. "Yes, you do. You bolted in the other direction when we approached you."

The lady, appearing somewhat offended, glances between you and San before responding, "Approached? I beg your pardon. How would you like it if two strangers were hurtling towards you?"

You almost burst into laughter at her retort, and you can see the incredulous look on San's face. The situation has taken an unexpected turn.

"Look, ma'am," you interject, trying to steer the conversation in a more serious direction. "We're well aware that you know something about us. We just want some answers."

The lady rolls her eyes before scanning her surroundings as if she's checking for any potential eavesdroppers. This action puzzles both you and San, and you exchange bewildered glances. San simply shrugs his shoulders in confusion, unsure of what to make of this mysterious encounter.

“Not here though,” her tone turns serious as she leads you further into the woods.

The woods, although unfamiliar, have a hauntingly beautiful quality to them. Tall, ancient trees stretch their gnarled limbs towards the sky, forming a canopy of leaves that filter the low sunlight, creating a mystical, ethereal atmosphere. The ground is carpeted with a thick layer of moss and ferns, lending an otherworldly green hue to the forest floor. Birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze provide a melodic backdrop to your journey, adding to the sense of enchantment that surrounds you.

Despite the woods' eerie charm, there's an undeniable feeling of isolation and obscurity as you venture deeper into its depths. The silence here is deafening, save for the occasional chirping of a distant bird or the rustling of unseen critters in the underbrush. Shafts of muted, golden sunlight pierce through the dense foliage, casting elongated shadows on the forest floor.

As you approach the fallen tree blocking the path, you marvel at its sheer size and age. It appears to have been lying here for centuries, with gnarled roots and crumbling bark that hint at the passage of time. The tree's massive branches extend into the undergrowth, creating an imposing and challenging barrier to your progress.

The old lady, still leading the way, jumps lithely over the tree, demonstrating a remarkable agility that seems out of place for her age. Her movements are fluid and graceful, as if the forest itself welcomes her presence.

San stands beside the fallen tree, offering you his hand, his eyes filled with concern and support. You grasp his hand, and he assists you in navigating the obstacle. As you make your attempt to cross, your foot catches on a stubborn root, causing you to lose your balance. Just as you teeter precariously, San's strong arm wraps around your waist, ensuring you don't fall. His touch is comforting, and for a brief moment, you both share a wordless connection as you regain your footing. San's heart lurches in his chest upon making contact with you, and he can't help but smile when he notices the flustered expression on your face.

The old lady observes this interaction from a distance, her knowing eyes filled with a fond amusement, and she motions for you to continue following her deeper into the forest. The journey becomes even more enigmatic and intriguing as you move forward, leaving the fallen tree behind and plunging further into the mystical beauty and mystery of the woods.

Slowly, the sun dips below the horizon making the woods take on an eerie quality. The once vibrant and lush forest now transforms into a mysterious and dark place. The temperature drops, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can't help but feel a little scared and vulnerable in this unfamiliar environment.

San, noticing your discomfort, moves a bit closer to you, not touching but making sure you know he's there for you. His presence brings some comfort, and you lean slightly into him, seeking warmth and assurance. Just as you're starting to relax, a howl echoes through the woods, sending a jolt of fear through your body. You instinctively press your arm against San, finding solace in his nearness.

"Are those wolves?" you ask, your voice quivering.

San, his cheeks slightly flushed, offers a reassuring smile. "It's okay, I'm here," he says with a touch of affection in his tone, making your heart skip a beat.

Still feeling uneasy, you keep your eyes on the darkening forest.

San notices your increasing anxiousness and quickly starts a conversation to distract you, "have you ever been to one of our concerts?" San asks, his curiosity piqued.

You shake your head, the tension slowly easing. "No, actually. I've been so focused on my education and then opening the café that I've barely had time. But now it's just a money problem. I've put all my savings into the café."

San nods, showing genuine interest in your dedication. "You're really dedicated to the café."

A soft smile plays on your lips. "It's been my dream since I was young."

San's curiosity heightens, he wants to know more. "Why is that?"

You take a deep breath, allowing the beauty of the moment to wash over you, the eerie woods, the presence of San beside you, and your shared stories. "Well, when I was a kid, my mother owned a cafe. I used to help her around when I was young, and I always wanted to own the cafe when she retired. I loved the way it brought people together. It's like a place where you can escape from your daily life, enjoy a cup of coffee, and maybe even make a new friend. I wanted to create that for others, a space where people can find comfort and connection.”

Sharing the story of your café and the emotional reason behind your dedication, San's eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. He listens with intense attention, his heart swelling with empathy and understanding.

"My mother passed away when I was young, and my father couldn't make enough money to support us, so we had to sell the place. Ever since then, I've dreamed of carrying on her legacy."

San's voice is filled with emotion as he responds, "I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. It must have been tough for you." He takes a deep breath, his own experiences coming to the surface. "Being an idol, I don't get to see my parents often, and I really miss them. But I keep going to make them proud. I know how you feel."

Smiling at San, you feel the connection between you deepen, and San finds himself experiencing an overwhelming amount of respect and admiration for your strength and determination. He can't help but feel a powerful emotional response to your story, and his heart jerks in his chest. He's touched by your vulnerability and the way you've persevered in the face of adversity. In this moment, the small but growing feelings he has for you become even more evident.

You and San share a meaningful gaze, both of your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The warmth of his smile provides a comforting connection between you, and in that moment, you can't help but feel a deep sense of belonging. Unbeknownst to you, the same feelings of belonging, understanding, and connection are mirrored in San's heart, as he finds himself drawn to you more deeply than he could have ever imagined.

“When we get out of here, you are invited to all of our concerts, free of charge.” San exclaims, his wide smile contagious.

“Then I can see Mingi body rolling with my own two eyes.”

“I'm going to feed you to the wolves.”

“We are here.”

The old lady's voice gently breaks your bickering with San, and you shift your gaze towards the source of her words. With a silent nod, she points to a small grotto-like cottage nestled deep within the woods. Covered in vibrant, velvety green moss, it looks like it has been plucked from a Pinterest post. The quaint little dwelling is simultaneously cosy and inviting, yet there is an eerie and somewhat unsettling quality to it that sends shivers down your spine. It seems as if ancient stories and secrets are hidden within its walls, waiting to be uncovered.

The forest that surrounds the cottage adds to the eerie charm. It is a mesmerising place, where the faint light of the setting sun dappled the landscape with warm, golden hues, casting long, enchanting shadows that seemed to dance with every passing breeze. It is beautiful, mysterious, and somewhat foreboding, a fusion of emotions that keeps you on edge.

You can't help but glance over at San, who shares your cautious expression. His eyes meet yours, and his warm smile attempts to soothe your nerves.

Following the old lady's lead, you cautiously approach the charming cottage, hesitating before the small door, which seems to be inviting you inside. The soft glow emanating from the windows adds to the enigmatic ambiance. It is a place that begged exploration, yet also invokes a feeling of hesitancy, as if stepping across the threshold would mean willingly delving into the unknown.

Taking a step closer to the cottage, San reaches out, gently grasping your hand and intertwining your fingers. There are no words exchanged, but his actions speak volumes. His warm touch conveys a silent reassurance, as if he is seeking solace and support just as much as he was offering it. His grip is a mixture of emotions, perhaps fueled by fear or the desire to protect you, and it sends your heart into a flurry of emotions. Your cheeks warm up, and butterflies flit through your stomach as you continue your journey towards the mysterious cottage, hand in hand with San.

Stepping through the small door of the cottage, you and San are greeted by a warm, cosy interior. The walls are adorned with wooden panels, giving the place a rustic, cabin-like feel. The ceiling is supported by wooden beams that add to the overall charm of the room. An inviting fireplace stands against one wall, its embers casting a comforting glow that bathes the space in a soft, flickering light.

In the heart of the room, there is a comfortable, worn-in sofa that beckoned for weary travellers like yourselves. Its deep red cushions invited you to sit down and rest, and you can’t help but admire how perfectly it fits into the rustic décor of the cottage. A wooden coffee table sits in front of the sofa, adorned with trinkets, dried herbs, and a collection of weathered books.

What captures your attention the most, however, is the large, cast-iron cauldron set in the centre of the room. It stands on a sturdy wooden tripod, and it appears to be empty, its black interior gleaming in the firelight. The cauldron is ancient, with ornate patterns etched along its rim, hinting at the history it holds within its iron confines. Taking in the warm and cosy ambiance of the cabin, you can't help but wonder about the mysteries it holds. The combination of old-world charm and the feeling of being in an entirely different realm is both alluring and unsettling. It is as though time has stood still in this hidden refuge, waiting for someone to uncover its secrets.

Taking in the cosy surroundings of the cottage, San's hand remains gently intertwined with yours. The warmth of his hand, combined with the comforting ambiance of the room, help ease the nervousness that has settled within you. The flickering firelight dances across the wooden walls, casting a soothing, amber glow on the two of you.

The old lady bustles around the room with a sense of familiarity, fetching cups and a teapot. Her movements are both methodical and graceful, as if she has been performing these tasks for many years. She has a kind, grandmotherly air about her, and her actions feel like a welcoming embrace.

With a warm smile, she pours the fragrant tea into delicate, porcelain cups, the gentle aroma wafting through the room, filling the air with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. The cups clink softly as she places them on the coffee table in front of the two of you.

You decide to take a seat on the plush, red sofa, and San sits down beside you. Your thighs touching, and the contact between you brought a sense of comfort and security. The cushions embraced you like a familiar friend, and the two of you found yourselves sitting close, as if the physical closeness mirrored the connection that was growing between you.

Sipping on the warm tea, you feel your nerves slowly begin to fade, replaced by a newfound sense of curiosity and wonder.

San and you sit in the cosy cabin, sipping tea and gathering your thoughts, the pressing question of how to return to your own world lingers heavily in the air. You know it is time to seek answers, and you exchange a glance with San before turning your attention to the old lady, a mix of curiosity and frustration in your voices.

"So, how do we get back to our world?" you inquire, your voice filled with a hint of desperation. "And what brought us here in the first place?"

San's voice is more direct as he joins the conversation. "Yeah, we understand we need to find our way out, but why were we brought here in the first place?"

The old lady, who had been bustling around the cabin to fetch cups and a teapot, pauses in her tasks. She takes a moment to consider your questions and then offers a thoughtful response, her voice laced with wisdom. "You were brought here by destiny, not by me. It appears that fate has a plan for both of you."

Your brows furrow with disbelief, and you shoot a sceptical glance at San. This answer hardly provides any solace, and San decides to voice your collective concerns.

"But you gave us those tassels. Weren't they what brought us here? So, it is your fault, and you need to help us get back."

The old lady lets out a weary sigh, understanding the frustration etched on both your faces. Her eyes betray a mix of amusement and sympathy as she speaks, "You are correct; the charms you were given had a role to play. However, they were more like keys, opening the door that destiny had laid before you."

You share another puzzled look with San, trying to grasp the cryptic nature of her explanation. San's patience wears thin, and he leans forward, his eyes locked onto hers. "Okay, so if we were brought here by destiny, how do we go back? What's the way out?"

The old lady leans back in her chair, reflecting on her next words.

“There is the existence of a rare and precious thread that can be woven into a tassel, allowing you to return to your world. It is the sister thread of the charm that brought the two of you here. However, the thread is a rarity, and it can only be made every six months. I know someone who has some, yet they live on the other side of the woods, it’ll take you the whole day for me to get it and return.”

San's frustration becomes more noticeable as he asks, "So, when can we get this thread? Tomorrow?"

The old lady shakes her head gently, a sense of regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I have visitors scheduled for tomorrow. It will be the day after tomorrow before I can fetch the thread for you."

You and San exchange a sigh of frustration, aware that your predicament has become increasingly complicated by the constraints of time.

"What if we get it? We can leave in the early morning and be back in the evening for you to make it." You suggest the plan with a glimmer of hope in your eyes, your voice brimming with determination.

The old lady observes you and San thoughtfully before offering her response, her expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and contemplation. "I suppose that could work. If you get it back to me before dark, I will make it for you."

"What's the catch?" San asks with a hint of scepticism.

The old lady reassures him, "There is no catch."

San's doubt lingers as he continues, "Don't play with me. You're a witch; there's always a catch."

She maintains her composure and responds, "I am not a witch."

Your eyes narrow in disbelief, and you press further, "Girl, you have a cauldron in the middle of your house. Be for real."

Your incredulity mirrors his as you try to make sense of the unusual surroundings and situation.

"You will find out the catch when you return with the thread," she calmly expresses. "This is the risk you have to take. Do you really wish to go home?" Her words are enigmatic, leaving you and San uncertain about what lies ahead on this unexpected journey.

"For now, though," she says, standing up from her chair, "get some rest. I'm sure you are tired from your travels."

You and San walk through the dimly lit corridor to the small room the old lady has prepared for you. It's a cosy, rustic space, with wooden walls and beams overhead, giving it a warm and inviting ambiance. The room is adorned with various knick-knacks, and the window reveals the occasional flicker of fireflies outside, casting fleeting shadows across the room.

Upon entering the room, you both find a comfortable, albeit not very spacious, resting place. There's only one bed, and the realisation causes a simultaneous blush to creep across both your faces. You feel a pang of guilt about the potential awkwardness of the situation, but before you can protest, San insists on taking the floor.

He quickly arranges a blanket he found in a nearby chest and lays it out on the wooden floor, attempting to make a makeshift bed for himself.

"I can't let you sleep on the floor," you object, worried about his comfort.

San chuckles, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lanterns outside. "It's fine, really. I'll be comfortable."

You give in, though you still feel a bit uneasy about it. San's considerate nature is touching, but you can't help but wish for a more suitable solution.

After a moment, you ease yourself into the plush bed. The soft mattress seems to envelop you, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. The bed feels like a luxurious escape after the long, tiring journey you've had. As you lay there, the comfort and warmth of the bed begin to lull you into a state of drowsiness.

San finishes arranging his makeshift bed on the floor beside you and glances over with a warm smile, his gaze a mix of concern and reassurance. As you're beginning to drift into slumber, he whispers softly, "Goodnight," in the dimly lit room.

The only sounds are the gentle crackling of the fireplace and the faint rustling of leaves outside, making you feel cosy and safe as you slowly succumb to sleep, with San's presence nearby providing a sense of comfort.

The sun's warmth bathes the forest in a golden glow as you and San step onto the path marked on the map. The cool, crisp air fills your lungs, invigorating you for the journey ahead. The forest around you is enchanting, with tall trees and vibrant flora that create an ethereal ambiance. Birds sing melodiously, providing a sense of tranquillity despite the challenges that await you.

The path, as the old lady described, is well-worn and meanders through the woods, guiding you further into the heart of the forest. You follow the landmarks indicated on the map: a peculiarly shaped tree, a massive boulder with moss clinging to its sides, and a serene, babbling brook. Each one reassures you that you're on the right track.

As you continue your journey, you come across a part of the forest that is denser and more shadowed than before. The old lady's warnings echo in your mind as you quicken your pace, your grip on the map tightening. You feel a sense of determination to return safely and bring San with you to your world.

The terrain gradually changes, leading you uphill and into a section of the forest where the trees are thicker and their branches intertwine, creating a natural canopy. The hushed whispers of the leaves add to the eerie yet captivating atmosphere.

"The old lady mentioned a hidden grove up ahead," San says, studying the map intently. "She said we need to pass through it with caution."

You nod, sharing a look of understanding. The forest seems to hold its breath as you venture deeper. The sense of isolation is palpable, and you start to feel a growing unease. The cool, serene forest from before now feels more mysterious, almost foreboding.

The passage through the hidden grove is narrow and winding, creating an otherworldly setting. Shafts of sunlight cut through the dense foliage, casting intricate patterns on the forest floor. You can't help but marvel at the beauty around you, even as you keep an eye out for the thread's location.

Moving forward, the path begins to broaden once more, and the map indicates that you are nearing the area where the thread can be found. An excitement fills you both, and you exchange a hopeful glance. The anticipation of success fuels your determination to complete this mission.

The map guides you to a small clearing where, according to the old lady, the thread can be collected. But as you reach the area, you realise that there are multiple threads, each one shimmering in different colours, suspended in the air as if by magic. They sway gently, casting colourful reflections on the ground.

San looks at you with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Which one do we choose?"

The old lady's advice comes back to you: "The thread must be chosen carefully, as it will determine where you return to."

Your heart pounds as you weigh your options. The forest around you holds its breath, waiting for your decision. The threads await your touch, their ethereal beauty a stark contrast to the perilous journey that brought you here.

Yet the second you reach out for a thread, a woman appears in front of you, halting you from grabbing the threads.

The air becomes charged with tension as the mysterious lady appears, her presence sending shivers down your spine. She stands near the threads, her eyes filled with an otherworldly wisdom.

San instinctively moves closer to you, blocking you from her, and you can feel his apprehension as he interlocks your hands.

“You mustn't take without giving, child. There is a price.”

"What is the price?" San asks, his voice trembling slightly.

The lady's expression remains enigmatic as she speaks, "To claim the thread that calls to your soul, you must offer me your most precious memory. Memories are the threads of your life, woven together to create your identity, and the idea of parting with one is a heavy burden to bear. It is the only way to ensure you are taken to your rightful place. This is the balance of the forest's magic."

The lady's request for a precious memory leaves you both in a state of shock. Your mind races as you consider the magnitude of the request. Your memories are a part of your very essence, each one holding a special place in your heart. You look at San, his eyes mirroring your own feelings of uncertainty.

San squeezes your hand, his voice a whisper, "What do we do? We can't give up our memories."

The lady, her gaze unwavering, adds, "I can see the bond you share, your connection is strong. One memory will be strong enough for the both of you."

You share a wordless, meaningful glance with San.

With a deep breath, you nod in San's direction, your silent gesture conveying your readiness to move forward. San meets your eyes with a deep sense of gratitude, an unspoken acknowledgment of the sacrifice you're both about to make.

The lady extends her hand toward you, and you accept it cautiously, your trust in her growing by the minute.

"Now, think of the memory," she instructs gently.

The room falls into an eerie silence as you stand before the threads, tears still glistening in your eyes. You can feel San's supportive presence beside you, his concern unspoken but palpable.

The lady extends her hand toward you, and you accept it cautiously.

You close your eyes, delving deep into your thoughts to find the memory that holds the most significance. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as the memory surfaces, the emotions tied to it overwhelming.

You take a moment to collect yourself, focusing on the cherished memory, replaying it in your mind like a vivid film. It's a memory from your childhood, a day at the beach with your mother, building sandcastles and laughing. You remember the feeling of the warm sand beneath your feet, the sound of the waves crashing, and the pure happiness in your mother’s eyes.

San watches you attentively, his concern evident in his gaze. He wants to rush to your side, to comfort you in this vulnerable moment, but he restrains himself.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the gentle yet piercing gaze of the lady. Her hand is extended toward the threads, waiting for your choice.

Your heart guides you toward a particular thread, one that stands out in a rich, dark purple shade. It shimmers with an otherworldly luminescence, a vibrant and mysterious aura that beckons to you. You reach for it, your hand trembling slightly as you grasp the thread, and it feels warm to the touch, like a connection to the past and the future.

For some inexplicable reason, your heart guides you to the thread, tugging at your emotions. It feels like the right choice, and you reach out to take it, a profound sense of purpose filling your heart.

With the thread secured in your hand, you turn to face San, a mixture of emotions passing between you. Gratitude, determination, and a hint of sadness are reflected in your eyes.

San smiles softly, offering you a reassuring nod, understanding the importance of the memory you've chosen to give up. He knows you've made this sacrifice willingly for both of your sakes.

You and San begin the journey back through the dense forest, the dimming light of the setting sun casts a warm, orange glow through the trees, a weighty silence hangs in the air. The precious thread safely tucked in your satchel serves as a constant reminder of the memory you've willingly sacrificed. Both of you understand the gravity of the situation.

After a while, San breaks the silence with a gentle voice, "If I can ask, what memory did you give up?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the memory in your heart. "It was a memory of a day at the beach with my mother, from my childhood. We were building sandcastles and laughing together. It was one of those moments of pure happiness that I never wanted to forget."

San looks at you with a mixture of understanding and sympathy. He realises that it was a cherished memory you held dear, and his respect for your sacrifice deepens.

San speaks again, his expression one of curiosity, " If it were me who had to choose, I wonder what memory I'd give."

You glance at him curiously, your satchel gently bumping against your side as you walk. "Have you thought about it before?"

San nods thoughtfully. "Not specifically, but... I guess a memory from my trainee days, one from the first time I saw our fans at a concert, or maybe our first win. Those moments are really special to me. But, it's a tough choice. I can't imagine giving up any memory willingly."

You both walk on in thoughtful silence, the significance of the thread and your memories weighing heavily on your minds.

"It's peculiar," San says, breaking the silence as he gazes over at you.

"What is?" You ask, your curiosity piqued.

"I wasn't expecting you to pick the purple thread. In my opinion, you strike me as more of a pink person."

A laugh escapes your lips. "I look like a pink person?"

San nods, a playful smile forming on his lips. "Yes, but I guess appearances can be deceiving."

You chuckle at his observation. "I do like pink, to be honest. But something about that purple thread just felt right, like it was calling out to me."

"That's even more interesting," San utters, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"How so?"

"Purple is my favourite colour," San confesses, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. You turn to look at him, a hint of confusion on your face.

San gazes at you, a warm and affectionate expression in his eyes. "Maybe it is destiny that we found each other."

Flustered by San's words, a warm sensation spreads across your cheeks as you quickly hide your face behind your hand. Your heart flutters at the affection in his gaze, and you can't help but sneak a few more glances at him, stealing moments to admire his comforting presence. His eyes, filled with fondness, occasionally meet yours, and a faint, mischievous smile dances at the corners of his lips. San bites his lip, suppressing a grin as he watches you.

The journey back to the old lady's cottage takes you through the dappled forest as the sun begins its slow descent. You and San, side by side, share unspoken words of comfort. San's unwavering presence helps you navigate the intricate path that weaves through the woods, while the echoes of rustling leaves and bird songs in the distance create a serene ambiance.

Arriving at the cosy cottage, you find the old lady tidying up her small abode. She turns to the two of you with a knowing glance, causing your heart to race. An exchange of puzzled glances with San only deepens the sense of mystery.

Hastily, you present her with the valuable thread you secured. She accepts it, murmuring the word "peculiar."

You and San exchange yet another look, curiosity gnawing at your minds. Despite your burning questions, you both decide not to press her further at this moment.

With the thread in her possession, you turn to the old lady once more, your curiosity now focused on the catch you've been wondering about.

“What is the catch?” You question, desperate to know what it is that could be at risk.

“I need time to thread the tassel, then I will tell you the risk. For now, please eat.”

“How long will it take?” San inquires, also desperate to get home.

“An hour or so, it won't be long. Help yourself to food, it is still warm.”

Sitting at the old lady's humble wooden table, you and San eagerly devour the food set before you. It's a simple meal, but after the day's adventures, it tastes like a feast. You're both so engrossed in eating that your earlier question about the odd word "peculiar" remains on hold.

Taking another bite of the hearty stew, San leans in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, since we have some time to kill," he begins, "which performance is your absolute favourite?"

You swallow your food, a burst of excitement rushing through you as you recall the various stunning performances you've seen, yet you can't help but to laugh. San’s dedication to find out your favourite parts about his group is endearing as well as funny.

"Well, there are so many, but if I had to choose, I’d probably say Take Me Home."

San grins widely, his eyes lighting up. "Really?." He leans closer, like an excited child, "is it because of my dance solo?"

You laugh at his words and finish another bite and ponder for a moment. "It is really cool. The way you used the mirrors is really cool to me also."

“Thank you for supporting us,” San says quietly, his smile gentle as he looks down at his food.

“Now San.” you say loudly, catching his attention. Pointing your spoon at him, you return the question, “what is your favourite performance to do?”

The two of you continue to chat and savour your meal, the tension lifting up the more you get engrossed in each other's company. Sharing your favourite Ateez moments and music creates a sense of connection which makes the wait for the old lady to finish the tassel more bearable.

You and San sit at the old lady's table, your empty bowls pushed aside, you're engaged in an animated conversation. The room is filled with laughter and shared stories, a comfortable warmth filling the air. You've found that you share many common interests and hobbies beyond just K-pop and Ateez, forging a deeper connection as you discuss your favourite books, movies, and travel destinations. It feels like you've known each other for ages.

The moments pass quickly as you both become lost in the flow of conversation, sharing tales of your personal experiences and dreams. Your voices resonate with passion and excitement as you talk about your aspirations, and you can't help but admire the way San's eyes light up when he talks about his music and performances.

Suddenly, the room's door creaks open, and the old lady enters, holding the completed tassel in her hand. The stunning charm catches your breath in your throat, a masterpiece of intricate weaving and vibrant colours. The thread glistens in the soft light of the room, and it looks as if it carries the power to transport you back to your world. Its craftsmanship and beauty are beyond anything you've ever seen before.

San and you both fall silent as you gaze in awe at the tassel, momentarily speechless. The old lady smiles as she approaches the table, placing the tassel gently in the centre. "Here it is, the thread charm that will take you home," she says, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

You and San exchange a look, both of you sharing a sense of wonder and gratitude for this woman who has helped you.

Suddenly, San's voice pierces the room, grabbing your attention. "Where is the other?" he inquires, his tone filled with urgency.

You and San exchange anxious glances, sensing that something is amiss. The old lady takes a deep, sorrowful breath, her expression growing more serious. "That is the catch," she confesses, her voice heavy with regret. "Only one of you may return home."

San's anger flares, his face flushing with frustration as he runs his trembling hands through his dishevelled hair. You take a step back, your heart sinking with disbelief, and a wave of despair washes over you.

The old lady calmly elaborates, "There is only enough thread to create one tassel. I can retrieve the thread again in six months when it becomes available. But for now, a difficult decision must be made—one must return home, while the other must stay."

The weight of the revelation hangs heavily in the air, the room filled with tension as you and San grapple with the realisation that a choice must be made.

“I will leave it here,” she utters, carefully placing the tassel on the wooden table, “you must sleep with it beneath your pillow, then when you fall asleep, you shall awake in your world.”

The old lady gazes at the two of you, and for the first time in her long life, a pang of guilt washes over her. Letting out a deep sigh, she retreats to the room she emerged from, her expression marked by the gravity of the situation.

You watch as the old lady retreats to the other room, you find a chair near the table and take a seat, deep in thought. San, on the other hand, begins to pace around the room, his frustration evident in his movements. He repeatedly runs his hands through his hair, his expression conflicted and troubled.

After several minutes of silence, you both turn to face each other simultaneously. In unison, you utter the same words, "You take it."

"No, you take it!" You exclaim firmly, determination shining in your eyes.

San responds, equally resolute, "You saved my life, you take it!"

"I saved your life so you can go home," you counter, your voice unwavering.

San's gaze softens as he insists, "You've been here for months, you take it. I want you to go home."

You shake your head, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "You have an important life ahead of you, San. Go home, and I'll meet you there in six months."

San mutters your name, his heart heavy, “you have to run the cafe, you can't wait six months.”

“San. This is what my mother would have wanted… there are more people who need you than people who need me.”

“What if I need you?” San exclaims, tears coming to his eyes.

“San…”

“I can’t leave you here.”

"San," you say firmly, standing up. You grab the tassel and then take his hand, gently pulling him towards the sofa. He follows, looking into your eyes, silently pleading.

Gently, you place the tassel in his hand and he looks up at you, tears threatening to fall as he looks at your face.

Taking a deep breath, you begin speaking, your voice gentle and filled with emotion, "San, I know you want me to go home, but you need to understand something. Your world needs you. Your family, your friends, and your fans all rely on you. You have dreams to fulfil, music to create, and a life to live. You have a purpose, and it's vital to so many people."

You reach out and place your hand on his, holding it with a reassuring grip. "I've learned so much from you during our time here, and I'm grateful for every moment. But I can't take away your chance to return to your world, to be with your loved ones. I'll wait for my turn, and when the time comes, I'll make it home."

San's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he absorbs your words. You continue, your voice steady, "We'll see each other again in six months, and by then, we'll both be where we're meant to be. I believe in you, San. It's time for you to go back and fulfil your destiny."

San listens intently, his eyes fixed on yours as your voice conveys your deep concern and affection.

“I just…” he begins, his voice cracking, yet you stop him.

“It’s okay. Let's go to bed.”

Starting to make your way toward the bedroom, the knowledge that San will disappear by morning brings tears to your eyes. The weight of impending separation presses on your chest, and it's hard to hold back the emotions welling up within you.

Before you can enter the room, San's strong yet gentle hand reaches out, grabbing your wrist with a firm but tender grip. He pulls you toward him, and suddenly, you find yourself enveloped in his arms. The world around you seems to fade into the background as the two of you share a moment.

The hug is a powerful mixture of emotions. San's heart beats rapidly against your chest, its rhythm a reflection of the anxiety and sorrow he feels about the upcoming separation. His tears, warm and wet, seep into the fabric of your clothing as he buries his face in your shoulder, seeking comfort and solace in your presence.

The comforting warmth of his body contrasts sharply with the chill in the room, creating an immediate sense of intimacy and solace. It's as if his body heat radiates into your very soul, offering a shelter from the storm of emotions raging inside both of you.

The subtle scent of him mingles with the earthy, forest fragrance that has clung to your clothes from your time in this peculiar place. It's a blend of familiar and foreign, marking this moment as uniquely special.

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he takes shaky breaths, his body trembling slightly with the weight of the impending parting. Each inhale and exhale shows the unspoken emotions that surge between you.

In this shared embrace, the world beyond the two of you fades away. Tears are a silent language, and your tears mix with his. This hug carries the bittersweet weight of the parting, a physical manifestation of the depth of your connection, the pain of separation, and the fervent hope of reuniting in the future. It seems almost insane to you the fact that you met less than three days ago. The person in front of you feels like a person you have known your entire life.

"I'm sorry," San mumbles into your neck, his words laced with regret, his warm breath causing shivers to run down your spine.

Your hand instinctively moves up to pat his head, fingers tangling softly in his hair as you try to provide some comfort. "It's okay, Sannie," you murmur, your voice gentle and reassuring.

With a mixture of emotions, you watch as San takes the bed in the spare room and places the tassel under the pillow. He glances back at you, standing in the door frame, and you offer him a warm smile, your eyes filled with understanding.

"I know what you're thinking," you say gently, a knowing look in your eyes, “I’m not sleeping tonight, don’t think about moving it.” San furrows his eyebrows in confusion, silently wondering how you've seen through him so clearly.

Without hesitation, San stands up and turns to face you, his eyes locked onto yours with intensity. It's clear that he has something important on his mind. His hands move gently to cup your face, his warm touch both comforting and electrifying. He wipes away the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes, a tender expression on his face as he looks deep into your soul.

In a slow, smooth movement, San rests his forehead against yours. You feel your eyes naturally close, giving in to the moment as the world around you seems to disappear.

“I promise to find you.” San whispers with his eyes closed and his promise lingers in the air, playing with your heart strings.

The two of you stay in this intimate position for a while, the only thing that exists being the warmth you share and the unspoken connection between you.

It's almost surreal to you that you've found yourself in this situation, not just with anyone, but with Choi San himself. The circumstances that led to this moment were beyond imagination, and yet, there's a profound sense of gratitude in your heart that it was him who ended up here with you. The closeness you feel in this moment is something you never expected to experience in your life, and it's a bittersweet reminder of the depth of your connection, the vagaries of fate, and the promise of a future reunion.

With a heavy heart, you bid San a quiet goodnight as you leave his room, pulling the door closed gently behind you. It's a slow, painful process, knowing that this may be the last time you'll see him for a while. You turn away from the door and walk down the dimly lit hallway, the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

Reaching a secluded corner of the hallway, you can no longer hold back the emotions that have been building up. Collapsing to the floor, you succumb to the overwhelming grief that has been gnawing at you. Silent sobs wrack your body, and you clutch your chest, trying to muffle the sounds of your heartache. You bite into the flesh of your hand to stifle the cries that threaten to escape, tears streaming down your face.

Each tear that falls feels like another piece of your heart breaking, and you struggle to come to terms with the harsh reality of having to stay here for longer when all you yearn for is to be home. It's a pain that cuts deep, one that only time can heal. But for now, all you can do is let the tears flow, allowing the raw and unfiltered emotions to have their moment.

Whilst you cry, the exhaustion from the day's events and emotional turmoil begins to take its toll on your body. The sobs gradually subside, replaced by a deep sense of weariness. Your eyelids become heavy, and your limbs feel like lead.

In the dimly lit hallway, you find yourself unable to hold back the fatigue any longer. Your body craves rest and respite from the emotional rollercoaster that has consumed your day.

You slump down against the cold, hard floor, your back resting against the wall. Tears still glisten on your cheeks as you close your eyes. With each ragged breath, your eyelids grow heavier, and a sense of drowsiness envelops you.

The world outside the hallway begins to blur, and the soft hum of the forest fades into the background. In your state of emotional exhaustion, you drift into a fitful slumber, the hallway serving as a makeshift bed. The tears have left their mark on your face, but your body is finally granted a moment of respite.

The night had been an unending cycle of sorrow and confusion, leaving you emotionally drained.

The first rays of dawn filter through the window, causing you to stir from your slumber on the hard hallway floor. Your memories rush back with brutal clarity, a sense of urgency and panic gripping your heart.

With trembling legs, you push yourself to your feet, the weariness still clinging to you. The echoes of the hug, the warmth of his presence, and the desperation to see him again fueled your determination.

Stumbling, you made your way to the room where San had rested. Each step feels like a lifetime, the anticipation of what you might discover palpable in your racing heart. You yearned to see him, but also hope that he has returned home.

The door creaks open and your heart sinks at the sight that greets you. The room is in disarray, pillows strewn, and sheets rumpled, signs that someone had indeed slept there. But it was devoid of San, leaving an aching void where his presence once dwelled.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision as you came to terms with the empty room.

To your left, you hear footsteps approaching, and you turn to find the old lady, her eyes downcast and guilt etches across her features. She knew, and the dread that had been building inside you only deepened.

With a quavering voice, you asked, "Where is he? Where's San?"

The old lady sighed heavily, her eyes meeting yours, bearing the weight of a heavy truth. The anticipation of her response filled the air like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

“He made it back safely.”

You turn back to the room, feeling relieved and torn at the same time.

“I will help you,” the old lady says gently, “I have never felt like this before, but your connection stirred something deep in me.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's a horse outside for you, it'll take you directly to your palace. Go there and in six months I will bring you the tassel. I give you my word.”

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say, your thoughts too occupied with San.

What if he is in the wrong world? What if he is stuck in limbo? What if he doesn't remember anything from this world?

Will you ever see each other again…?

—

San gradually becomes aware of his surroundings, a thick fog of grogginess enveloping his senses. The faint, continuous beep of a machine and hushed murmurs echo in the background. As his eyes open, the harsh hospital lighting makes him squint. The sterile, clinical setting becomes apparent, with white walls and the metallic gleam of medical equipment creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

His vision adjusts, revealing a monitor to his right, its rhythmic beeping punctuating the sterile air. An intravenous line is connected to his arm, administering an unknown liquid into his veins. The scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, intensifying the disconcerting feeling of being in an unfamiliar place.

His head pounds with a relentless ache, and confusion clouds his thoughts. Why is he here? What happened to lead him to this hospital bed? The hunger in his stomach intensifies, adding to the growing sense of disorientation.

In an attempt to make sense of the situation, he pushes himself to sit up. The movement catches the attention of someone in the room—a figure in the corner. The familiar voice of his manager pierces through the ambient sounds, a mix of concern and relief evident.

"San, are you okay?"

San rubs his temples, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The events leading to this hospital room elude him, and he struggles to piece together the fragments of memory. Disoriented and perplexed, he turns to his manager, a multitude of questions forming on his lips.

“What happened?” His voice is hoarse as he speaks, and he can feel from his breath that he hasn't brushed his teeth in a day or two.

“You don't remember?” his manager inquires, worried about San’s wellbeing, he continues upon seeing San’s nod, “you were in practice and suddenly fainted, you've been asleep for almost three days. We thought you were in a coma.”

The second his manager recounts the details of being in a coma, San's mind races, trying to make sense of the fragmented memories flooding back. Flashes of the alternate world, the old lady, and most prominently, you, fill his consciousness. The vivid experiences he shared with you seem surreal, yet the emotions are still fresh, and an urgent restlessness takes hold of him. If he was in a coma for three days, you would be in a coma for almost three months.

Ignoring his manager's pleas for rest, San becomes increasingly agitated. The desire to find you, to confirm the reality of the shared adventure, fuels his determination. He can't stay confined; he needs to know if it was all real or just a vivid dream.

With a burst of energy, San attempts to swing his legs off the side of the bed, dislodging the wires and monitors attached to him. His manager rushes to restrain him, urging him to stay put and recover, but San's sense of urgency overrides any rational thinking.

"No, I need to find them!" San exclaims, desperation in his voice as he struggles against his manager's firm grip.

Ignoring the protests, San manages to free himself from the medical paraphernalia. Disentangling from the monitors and IV lines, he bolts out of the room, driven by an unrelenting determination to find you. His legs are wobbling as he walks, but he manages to regain his composure as he walks quickly around the corridors.

The hospital stretches out before him, a maze of unfamiliar hallways and doors. Panic sets in as he realises he has no idea where he is or where to begin. The sterile environment amplifies his disorientation, and every passing moment without a clue about your whereabouts intensifies his anxiety.

Frantically, he searches for a reception area, hoping for guidance. The urgency of the situation pushes him forward, and despite the lingering weakness, San charges through the hospital corridors, driven by an unshakable determination to find you, no matter the cost.

In a frenzy, San navigates through the hospital corridors until he finally stumbles upon the reception area. The receptionist, a weary woman surrounded by stacks of paperwork, looks up with a half-hearted smile as San approaches, still clad in his hospital gown.

"Excuse me," San gasps, breathless from both the urgency of his quest and his hurried journey through the hospital. "I need to know if someone is here.”

Slowly, the receptionist's eyes narrow, “what is their name?”

San replies with your name and the receptionist furrows her brow, perplexed by the urgency in San's eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I can't disclose information about patients without proper authorization," she explains, adhering to hospital protocol.

Desperation flickers across San's face as he pleads, "Please, it's important. I need to know if she's here. Is there anyone with that name in a coma for almost three months?"

The receptionist hesitates, studying San for a moment. "How do you know this person?" she inquires, her curiosity piqued.

San, quick on his feet, replies with urgency, "They are a really close friend. We lost touch, and I just found out about their condition. Please, I need to know if they are okay."

The receptionist sighs, her empathetic instincts prevailing over protocol. She lowers her voice and says, "Wait here."

San anxiously watches as the receptionist scans through her files. The seconds feel like an eternity, and his heart pounds with anticipation. Finally, her eyes light up, and she raises her eyebrows, a glimmer of surprise crossing her features.

"Yes, there is someone by that name…” she reveals. "Room 302. But you need to understand, only family members are usually allowed in."

San's gratitude is immense as he thanks the receptionist before darting off toward Room 302, his pace almost a sprint. The journey through the sterile hospital environment seems to stretch endlessly, but San's determination propels him forward. Room 302 holds the promise of answers, and he's willing to face whatever awaits behind that door.

San stands outside Room 302, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. The weight of the unknown presses on him, and he takes a moment to steel himself before gently pushing open the door.

The door swings open and a hush falls over the room. San's eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him.

There you are, lying in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and wires. Your hair, longer than he remembers, cascades gently over the pillow, is a sign of the time you've spent in a seemingly endless slumber.

San's heart clenches at the sight of the wires connected to you, a lifeline that has kept you tethered to this world. The room, bathed in the soft glow of monitors, feels both sterile and charged with an emotional intensity that hangs in the air.

Approaching the bed, San's gaze lingers on your peaceful face, now adorned with the marks of time passed. Tears cascade down your closed eyes, and San's heart aches for the pain you have endured in your unconscious state. It's a heartbreaking revelation, but at the same time, there's a profound beauty in the connection they share, transcending the boundaries of worlds.

With a shaky deep breath, San takes a seat in the chair beside your bed. The chair creaks softly under his weight as he reaches out, his trembling fingers gently interlocking with yours. He can feel the warmth of your hand, a tangible connection that defies the barriers of the physical and the metaphysical.

"Hey," San whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. "It's me. I made it back safely." He pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thank you so much for everything."

San's words hang in the air, a heartfelt acknowledgment of the intertwined fate that brought them together across dimensions. The room, filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines and the soft hum of the hospital, bears witness to a moment that transcends the ordinary—a reunion between two souls bound by an extraordinary connection.

—

“What's with this marker on your calendar?” Wooyoung questions as he walks into San’s room.

San turns away from his desk to see what Wooyoung is pointing at. The mark, indicating six months from the time he awoke, brings a gentle smile to San's face. "Just something important," he replies before redirecting his attention back to the game on his desk.

“Okay… are you okay?” Wooyoung questions, taking a seat on San’s bed.

“Yeah, why?” San responds.

“You've been acting weird ever since you woke up from that coma.”

San turns around again, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know, you've been all bittersweet, acting as if you’re going through a breakup. And all these trips to the hospital?”

San scoffs at the analysis before resuming his game. The characters on the screen move around, engaging in virtual battles.

“I’m serious,” Wooyoung insists, “you've been weird.”

“Whatever you say.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, a light chuckle escaping him. “We leave in ten minutes, finish your game quickly.”

—

The dance studio is filled with the rhythmic beat of the music, echoing off the mirrored walls. A palpable energy buzzes in the air as the members practise their choreography for the upcoming comeback. San, adorned in his dance attire, moves with precision and passion, putting his heart into every step.

The past three months have been a whirlwind for the group, with preparations for the comeback taking centre stage. The demanding schedule has left little time for personal matters, and for San, that means infrequent visits to the hospital. The initial relief he felt upon waking up from his own coma has been replaced with the stress of managing a packed agenda.

During those initial two weeks, he diligently visited you every day. Flowers, particularly pink ones, became a weekly tradition, a small gesture to brighten the sterile environment of the hospital room. However, as the comeback drew nearer, the relentless cycle of recordings, dance practices, and promotional activities consumed his time.

Today, the dance practice is particularly gruelling. San can't help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that it has been weeks since his last visit to you. He worries about how you might perceive his absence, fearing that you'll wake up and think he didn't wait for you, or worse, that you'll wake up and be gone.

Whilst the music plays and the members execute each move with precision, San's mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Every leap, every spin, is a dance of dedication to the group and a silent plea for understanding from you. He longs for the moment when he can return to your side, bringing not only flowers but the warmth of his presence and the assurance that he hasn't forgotten the promise he made.

The dance studio pulses with energy as ATEEZ members tirelessly rehearse their choreography for the upcoming comeback. The atmosphere, however, is tense, and a sense of impatience permeates the room as San repeatedly messes up his steps.

For the fourth time, San's foot collides with Mingi's, disrupting the flow of the routine. Frustration bubbles within the group.

Hongjoong's voice cuts through the air, demanding attention. "San, what has gotten into you? Pay attention." His leader's authority echoes, making it clear that patience is wearing thin.

San mumbles a quick apology, his eyes cast downward. Yet, as the group restarts, it's evident that his mind is elsewhere. Another misstep follows, and a collective groan emanates from the group.

Seongwha, although fatigued and annoyed, can't help but express concern for his younger friend. "What's going on? Your mind is somewhere else."

Hongjoong's stern tone is layered with genuine worry as he addresses San. "You've been all over the place since you fainted. It's been more than six months; you need to straighten up." The leader's frustration is palpable, but there's an underlying tone of care. The members, despite their annoyance, share a collective sentiment of concern for San's well-being.

“It hasn’t been six months,” San grumbles under his breath, also frustrated at himself. San of all people would know if it has been six months.

"It has," Wooyoung exclaims, eyebrows furrowing as he gazes at San. "I thought you'd know, it's on your calendar."

San's eyes narrow in disbelief as he retrieves his phone from his pocket, turning it on to check the date. Widening, his eyes register the reality that it has been exactly six months and four days since he emerged from his coma.

"Fuck," San exclaims, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Running his hand through his hair, he's consumed by a sudden rush of guilt. How could he lose track of time? You must have already been awake for more than three days by now.

"I need to go," San mutters under his breath.

"What did you say?" Yunho questions, not catching his soft mutter.

"I need to go. Now," San asserts, this time with more volume. He rushes to his coat and bag, desperately shoving his belongings into it. Meanwhile, his groupmates stare at him with a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"San, what are you doing?" Yeosang inquires, walking up to the man frantically preparing to leave.

"I need to go somewhere."

"San, you can't just leave; we have to practice," Jongho attempts to reason, but his words seem to bounce right off San.

"Choi San," Hongjoong's voice booms through the studio, causing San to momentarily halt his actions. Turning around, San faces Hongjoong, who wears a deeply furrowed brow, an angry expression etched into his features.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong's voice drips with exasperation as he takes in the dishevelled appearance of the younger male.

“I'm sorry. Really sorry. But there’s something I need to do, and if I don’t, I feel like I’m going to hate myself for the rest of my life,” San exclaims, his voice hoarse, tears welling up in his eyes.

Hongjoong's gaze softens upon seeing San’s vulnerable state. The six others standing around him try to make sense of the situation, but the dots just don’t add up.

“San,”

“I’m sorry, really, I’m so sorry.”

“San,” Hongjoong booms, though not unkindly, his voice carrying a sense of understanding.

“How long will it take?”

“Just today, then I will put all my time and all my effort into this comeback. Just like I always do. I just need today.”

All around him, his friends are confused yet feel their hearts weigh heavily as they witness the desperate state San is in. Never have they seen him like this before, and it feels strange for San to be in such a state.

“Go. But be back tomorrow,” Hongjoong says gently.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise to make it up to you. All of you,” San says before bolting out of the room, headed straight for the hospital. He just hopes that he can make it there before visiting times end.

Hongjoong isn’t sure why he allowed San to go, knowing how tight time is right now due to the comeback being in a few weeks. Something in San’s eyes spoke to him, as if destiny were compelling him to go.

San dashes through the bustling streets, weaving through the crowd like a determined arrow cutting through the air. His long strides cover the familiar path to the hospital, the urgency in his heart making the surroundings blur. The city hums with life, but for San, everything else fades into the background.

As he moves, apologies spill from his lips like rapid-fire as he bumps into people on the way. He can't afford to slow down, can't spare a moment for anything but reaching his destination. The KQ building looms behind him, a distant memory as he sprints toward the hospital.

Breath heaving, he bursts through the hospital entrance with a singular purpose. The reception area blurs by as he skips any formality, not bothering to check in. His entire focus is on reaching your room, his heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his hurried steps.

The sterile, white hallways echo with the familiar sounds of a hospital; the soft footsteps of medical professionals, the distant chatter of visitors, and the rhythmic beeping of machines. San barrels forward, expertly navigating the maze-like corridors, fueled by a mix of anxiety and determination.

Arriving at the elevator, he jabs at the button for your floor, impatience etched across his face. The doors slide open, and he steps in, the confined space providing a brief respite. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he gazes at the floor numbers lighting up as he ascends.

The elevator doors part once more, revealing the hallway that leads to your room. San's pulse quickens as he sprints toward the familiar door. His mind races with worry, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. What will he find when he enters? The anticipation builds with every step, and as he reaches your room, he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever awaits on the other side.

San gingerly turns the doorknob, a mixture of hope and dread swelling within him. The door creaks open, revealing the room where you should be resting. His eyes scan the space, desperately seeking any sign of your presence.

Stepping inside, the reality of the situation crashes over him. Your bed is there, neatly made, but the first thing he notices is the fact that it is empty.

Panic rises in San's chest, and he rushes to your bedside. The room is silent, save for the hum of medical equipment, amplifying the void left by your absence.

San's breath catches in his throat as he clings to the remnants of hope. He gazes around the room, half-expecting you to materialise before him. The silence in the air is deafening, a stark contrast to the lively conversations he had envisioned sharing with you once you woke.

His eyes fall on the wilted pink tulips, a cruel reminder of the hopeful gestures he made in anticipation of your awakening. The vibrant hues have dulled, mirroring the fading optimism in San's heart. San's mind swirls with a whirlwind of thoughts. Guilt creeps in, taunting him with the possibility that he failed you somehow.

He replays every missed opportunity, each day he prioritised work over being by your side. The weight of his choices bears down on him, and a profound sadness envelopes him. Doubt consumes him, questioning if he's truly deserving of happiness or if he's destined to be haunted by regret.

Desperation tightens its grip on San as he moves to the window, hoping for a glimpse of you in the hospital courtyard or perhaps walking down the hallway.

The pink tulips in his hands serve as an emblem of his optimism, now crushed beneath the weight of reality. He recalls the anticipation that accompanied each visit, the flowers symbolising his unwavering belief in your eventual awakening. Now, their wilting petals tell a different story, echoing the fading flame of hope in his heart.

San clutches the tulips tighter, a silent plea for forgiveness to a presence that's no longer there. The room seems colder now, devoid of the warmth he associated with your presence.

The sounds of the hospital, distant footsteps and hushed conversations, serve as an eerie backdrop to San's internal monologue. Doubt creeps in, questioning if he's truly deserving of happiness or if he's fated to be haunted by the spectre of regret.

San's fingers trace patterns on the wilted tulips, his thoughts spiralling into a vortex of introspection. He replays every missed opportunity, each instance where he chose to chase fleeting success over cherishing the moments with you. The room feels smaller, closing in on him as the burden of his choices becomes increasingly unbearable.

Shoulders slumped, San sinks to the floor, still clinging to the flowers. The weight of his heartache is unbearable, each beat echoing a symphony of sorrow. In the quiet room, time becomes elastic, stretching and contracting as he grapples with the reality that he might have lost you forever.

The shadows lengthen as San remains on the floor, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. The hospital room, once a space of anticipation and hope, is now a shrine to what could have been. In the hushed stillness, he wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script that led to this heart-wrenching moment.

“San?”

San's world comes to a screeching halt, the single utterance of his name from behind him slices through the heavy silence like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, he remains frozen, caught between the realms of disbelief and desperate hope. The air hangs thick with anticipation as he dares not turn around, fearing that acknowledging the voice will only amplify the crushing weight of his recent realisation.

A gentle touch graces his shoulder, a tender reassurance that pierces through the numbness that has settled over him. It's a touch so delicate, yet laden with a gravity that sends shivers down his spine. Still reluctant to face the truth, he keeps his gaze fixed on the emptiness before him, afraid to let hope blossom only to be crushed again.

When he finally musters the courage to turn around, the world tilts on its axis. There you stand, a vision of ethereal beauty in your hospital gown, tears mirroring his own streaming down your face. In that moment, the lines between reality and dreams blur, and San feels as if he's been transported to a realm where miracles are not only possible but tangible.

Time seems to suspend as San takes in the sight of you; the person he thought he had lost. Every detail becomes etched into his memory; the vulnerability in your eyes, the traces of weariness on your face, and the overwhelming emotion that courses through the room. It's a tableau of raw, unfiltered emotion that threatens to overwhelm both of you.

A choked sob escapes San's lips as he surges forward, a mixture of disbelief and euphoria propelling himself towards you and into a bone crushing embrace. The world narrows down to the two of you, a cosmic collision of souls who refuse to be separated. The hospital room transforms into a sanctuary where the boundaries of time and space blur, leaving only the profound connection shared between you and San.

Your tears mingle with his, forming a symphony of emotions that speaks more eloquently than words ever could. In that embrace, San feels a weight lifted off his shoulders, a burden he carried for what felt like an eternity. It's a cathartic release, a culmination of months of longing and despair now metamorphosing into a resurgence of joy.

Whilst you hold each other, the room becomes a vessel for shared emotions, an intimate space where the echoes of heartache dissipate, replaced by the melodies of reunion. San pulls away from the embrace to cradle your face in his large hands as he presses his forehead against yours, a silent promise to savour this moment, to etch it into the very fabric of his being. Your body stays pressed against his, the closeness you have been missing and dreaming of since the moment he left

For San, it's not just a reunion; it's a reawakening. The tears that had threatened to drown him now become droplets of newfound happiness. The gravity of your presence grounds him, dispelling the shadows that had cast their spell over his soul.

In the space of the hospital room, San and you find solace in the simple truth that you are together once more. Tears continue to fall, now a harmonious blend of joy and relief.

Amid the quiet murmur of the hospital room, San's eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and profound emotion as he processes your revelation. The weight of his longing, the months spent in anticipation and despair, culminate in a single question that escapes his lips, laden with an earnestness that echoes through the room.

"You... woke up today?" he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief yet brimming with uncontainable joy. As you nod in confirmation, a wave of realisation washes over him, and he takes a moment to absorb the enormity of the moment.

“You remembered?” You mutter softly, the words barely reaching San’s ears.

"I would've waited forever for you," he confesses, his eyes locked onto yours, sincerity echoing in every word. The depth of his commitment, the unwavering dedication to your well-being, resonates in the air, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of his unwavering devotion.

You proceed to share the intricacies of your journey; the delayed arrival of the old lady, the challenges she faced on her way to you, and the serendipity that brought you back to consciousness today. The room transforms into a cocoon of shared stories, weaving a tapestry of experiences that led to this miraculous reunion.

A playful smile tugs at San's lips as he contemplates the unfolding narrative. "Today," he muses, "feels like a chapter from a book written by destiny."

The atmosphere takes a lighthearted turn as he shifts gears, eyes alight with mischievous curiosity. "So," he starts, "now that you're back and I've got you here, how about we celebrate this occasion with a date?"

Your heart skips a beat at the proposition, and a smile graces your lips. "A date?" you echo, genuine surprise reflected in your eyes.

San nods, his expression earnest. "Yes, a date. You saved my life; the least I can do is take you out and make it up to you."

A playful glint dances in your eyes as you ponder his proposal. "Well," you tease, "if you get me Mingi's autograph, we might just have a deal."

San feigns exasperation, mockingly clutching his heart. "I hate you," he declares with a theatrical sigh.

A laugh escapes your lips, and you playfully retort, "No, you don't."

The laughter continues, and the room becomes a sanctuary of shared laughter and affection. The weight of the past months fades into the background, replaced by the promise of new beginnings and the joy of being together once more. In this intimate exchange, the echoes of a love that transcended time resonate, casting aside the shadows that had lingered for far too long.

The air becomes charged with anticipation as San looks into your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

A warm feeling of affirmation fills your chest, and you respond with a smile, "I’ve only waited sox months." The atmosphere is tinged with a mixture of excitement and a sense of inevitability, as if this moment had been woven into the fabric of destiny.

San leans in, his eyes fluttering closed as he gently presses his lips against yours. It's a sweet, tender kiss that feels like the universe aligning, a culmination of shared experiences, laughter, and the trials you faced together. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment.

There's a soft, playful energy to the kiss, like a dance between your lips, a silent celebration of the connection that brought you back together. San's hand finds its way to yours, fingers intertwining as if to anchor this moment in time.

The kiss lingers and it's not just a meeting of lips; it's a merging of hearts and souls. When you finally part, there's a shared look that speaks volumes, an unspoken understanding that this connection goes beyond the magical threads that brought you here. It's a kiss that feels like destiny, a promise of more shared moments, and a celebration of a love that transcends the mystical realms you've traversed together.

Perhaps it was destiny after all.

#San #san ateez #ateez #ateez x reader #choi san #san fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez san

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xxspringmelodyxx · 2 months

Text

𝒲𝒽𝓎 𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝑀𝑒~

𝑨𝒚𝒂𝒕𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒐 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕)

⊱ 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐, 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔! 𝑾𝒆'𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒚𝒂𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑼𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚, 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏. 𝑵𝒐𝒘, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆. 𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚! ⊰ 𝒘𝒄: 3.7𝒌

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Warnings: Swearing, angst, sad, sad, sad⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿ ˚❀˚·⋆✿

I looked ahead, forcing a smile as I prepared to meet the woman who had captured Ayato’s heart. As I continued towards Ayato's place, my steps grew heavier, each one a painful reminder of what I was about to face. The air seemed thicker, my breath shallow as if my lungs couldn’t expand fully. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks, my heart feeling as if it had been ripped apart.

From a distance, I saw the man I deeply loved kissing another woman. Not just any woman, but the renowned Kanaka. She is the heir to a powerful merchant family known for their extensive trade networks and influence in high society. She manages the family business with an iron fist, excelling in negotiations and strategic alliances. Every aspect of her life seemed to be polished and perfected, making her appear as the ideal partner for him.

My chest tightened as they gazed lovingly at each other. The world around me blurred, the vibrant summer day turning dull and lifeless. I wanted to be angry at her, to hate everything about her—but I couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault Ayato fell for her. To him, I was just a childhood friend, nothing more.

Besides, Kanaka was a high-class, elegant woman with a sharp intellect and a commanding presence. She exuded grace and sophistication, always dressed in luxurious attire that reflected her prestigious background. She spoke with a confidence that demanded attention, her every move calculated to perfection. Again, perfect for someone like Ayato.

When I finally reached them, Ayato’s eyes lit up and he instantly came to greet me. “Y/N, you made it. I hope the walk wasn’t too much,” he said, his voice a soothing melody that always managed to calm my nerves. I chuckled, trying to hide the ache in my heart. Truthfully, it was a long walk—almost ten miles from where I was. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Though, meeting halfway next time would be nice,” I replied, making him laugh.

“I apologize for making you walk all this way. I thought it would be a good time for you to meet my girlfriend since she’s in the city. You never know when she’ll be off on another business meeting,” he said, wrapping his arm around Kanaka. She smiled sweetly at Ayato, placing her hand on his chest, her fingers lightly tracing circles as if she owned him.

I shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the air thickening. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kanaka. How long have you known Ayato?” I asked, trying to make small talk. Before she answered, I thought I saw a slight glare, but maybe it was just in my head. “Oh, we’ve known each other for about a year, but we’ve been together for almost six months,” she responded, her voice smooth and unwavering. I nodded, forcing a smile.

“Well, you’re very lucky, and Ayato is too. He’s dating the legendary Kanaka we’ve all heard about,” I said, praising her. She smiled, moving closer to Ayato. “Yes, we’re both very lucky. I’m glad I got my hands on him before anyone else could,” she said, eyeing me up and down, her gaze piercing through my facade.

An awkward silence followed, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between us. “Well then, I’m a bit thirsty. Shall we have some tea? I’ll ask Thoma to make it,” Ayato said, making my eyes light up. It would be nice to see Thoma again. It’s been a while since we last talked. Plus, it would distract me from the current situation. “I would love that,” I said, making Ayato smile. “Great, you two get to know each other while I help Thoma with the tea,” he said, walking away into his home.

I looked at Kanaka with a smile, trying to be friendly. “So, Kanaka, what brought you back he—” “Cut the small talk. You don’t need to pretend to be friends with me,” she said, catching me off guard. Her voice was sharp, each word laced with underlying hostility. “What?” I asked, hoping I misheard.

“I know how you feel about Ayato. I know about your silly love for him, but I want you away from him. I don’t want to see you near him after today, understood?” she said, making my frustration grow. “Listen, I’ve been best friends with Ayato since we were kids. You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do with him. Besides, I don’t think he’d like the way you’re talking to me.”

“Oh, you won’t tell him,” she said confidently, her smirk widening. “And why not? Enlighten me,” I said, my anger rising. “Because if you do, this…” she said, holding up a necklace that was very important to me. It was my mother's. She gave it to me before she passed away. My breath caught in my throat. “How did you—” “I found it on Ayato's desk. He told me it was yours and that you accidentally left it when you last visited.” “You wouldn’t dare—” “Oh, but I would. Having you around Ayato makes it difficult for me to accomplish my mission,” Kanaka said with a sly smile. “What mission? What are you planning?” I demanded, confusion and anger boiling within me.

She smirked, circling me like a predator, her eyes never leaving mine. “Ayato is a wealthy man, and his money allows me to do as I please. His high status will elevate my position even further. I can access places and influence decisions that were previously out of reach,” she explained, her tone dripping with ambition. “So you’re just using him for his money and status? But you already have wealth and influence!” I exclaimed, baffled by her greed.

“True, but Ayato’s connections and the additional power I gain through him can open doors even my family’s influence cannot. It’s not just about wealth, it’s about absolute control and domination. I want to be untouchable,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with a cold, ruthless determination. “You're terrible! Wait until I—” “Until you what? Tell him everything I just told you? Why would you do that when you know the only thing left from your mother is in danger of being destroyed?” she taunted, holding up the precious necklace.

I fell silent, my mind racing to find a way to stop her. Instinctively, I lunged at her to grab my necklace. She swiftly tripped me, sending me to the ground. Pain shot through my knees, but I got back up and punched her, desperate to make her let go. We struggled fiercely, yanking on the necklace. “Give it back, you crazy bitch!” I yelled, my voice filled with rage and desperation.

Suddenly, a voice I dreaded hearing rang out. “What is going on here?!” Ayato yelled. We both looked up at him. Kanaka pushed me off her and ran to Ayato, crying fake tears. “Ayato, my love. I was just trying to talk, but she attacked me,” she said, showing him her black eye. “Are you kidding me? Ayato, she’s lying! She’s using you for your wealth. She even threatened to destroy something very important to me so that I wouldn’t tell you!” I retorted. He glared at me, confused and hurt. “How could you hurt her, Y/N? She was just trying to talk to you!” he raised his voice. “Ayato, you can’t seriously believe her—”

“I believe every word. Why would she lie to me?” he said naively. I stared in disbelief. “Ayato, I—” “Enough! You’ve done enough. I thought you’d be happy for me finding someone who loves me. Someone I truly love. But I guess not,” he said with disappointment. “I think it’s best if you leave,” he said, turning away and tending to Kanaka. I looked at her and saw her smirking at me while Ayato hugged her. “Fine.” I said, turning away. “And don’t worry, you won’t hear from me again,” I muttered. Kanaka smirked as she watched me leave, happy to have rid herself of me. “Come on, love. Let’s get you some ice,” Ayato cooed at Kanaka.

Thoma saw everything, shocked at Ayato’s outburst. How could he not believe you? You’ve known each other for years, yet he trusts the girl he’s only known for a year?

He followed me to a small park, watching as I collapsed to the ground, my knees pulled to my chest. He knew he needed to help, and so he ran up to me. Placing his hand on my shoulder, he made me look up at him. “Thoma…What are you doing here?” I asked, my tear-stained face breaking his heart. He knelt beside me, his presence a comforting anchor. “Y/N…” was all he said, understanding what had really happened. My eyes filled with tears again as I hugged him. He hugged me tightly, offering solace in the midst of my heartbreak.

“He didn’t believe me…after all these years…�� I sobbed, the weight of betrayal heavy on my heart. Thoma rubbed my back, pained by my distress. “I know…I don’t understand what went through his head. But I want you to know that I believe you,” he said, making me look up. “You do? Why?” I asked, seeking reassurance. “

Because I trust you. Plus, I remember you crying over a dead butterfly because you accidentally stepped on it. I knew then it was almost impossible for you to hurt someone unless they deserved it,” he said, emitting a half-hearted laugh from me. “That butterfly probably had a family!” I retorted, seeing Thoma smile. “There's that smile.” He said happily, sitting down beside me. We watched the sky, admiring its beauty in silence. That was until Thoma decided to ask me a question.

“May I ask…why did you punch Kanaka?” I sighed, my body deflating, “It was because she stole something from me,” I admitted. He looked at me, encouraging me to continue. “She took my necklace…the one my mother gave me before she…you know.”

“What?! Why did she have that in the first place?” he asked, his voice tinged with anger. “I accidentally left it on Ayato’s desk last time I was here. Now she’s threatening to destroy it if I get close to Ayato. I can’t even see him anymore,” I explained, my voice trembling. Thoma, usually calm, looked visibly angry. He cared deeply about those close to him and couldn’t stand seeing them hurt or threatened. He stood up, ready to march back.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “I’m going to settle this once and for all. You don’t deserve this, especially after all you’ve done for Ayato,” he said firmly. I quickly ran up to him. “No! Stop, Thoma!” I said, pushing him down. “Y/N, let me go teach Ayato and that woman a lesson,” he said, surprising me with his anger. “No! If you do, she’ll destroy the only thing I have left of my mother,” I pleaded, my voice breaking.

“Please, Thoma. She’s already taken Ayato from me…don’t let her take the other thing I love,” I begged, making him frown. “Fine. But only because I hate seeing you hurt. But if she does anything else to you, it’s game over,” he warned. “When did you become so fierce?” I asked with a small smile. “When someone I care about is being threatened,” he said, making me smile.

We both got up and dusted ourselves off. “Well, no matter what Ayato says, I still want to see you. It would be boring if I didn’t. I’ll even teach you some of my cooking tricks…and maybe how to make my amazing tea,” he said, making my eyes light up. “Really?”

“Of course! It’s about time you learned,” he said, making me smile. “I would love that! But I’ll only go there for you. I can’t be anywhere near Ayato or that necklace is gone. In the meantime, I have to figure out how to get it back,” I said, making him nod.

“Well, I better head back. Meet me whenever you’re ready. But make sure it’s soon. I don’t want to worry about whether you’re coming if you take too long,” he joked, making me smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there soon. For now, I’m going home to figure some things out. Talk to you later, Thoma.” “Bye, Y/n. I’ll see you soon!” he replied, watching me disappear.

A few months passed, and Ayato found himself desperately missing you. After the argument, the void your absence created quickly became evident to him. Almost a week after the incident, he spotted you approaching. Ready to greet you with a warm hug, his confusion grew when you walked past him without so much as a glance. Initially, he thought you were simply in a hurry, but it became clear this wasn’t the case when it happened every time you visited. What stung the most was seeing you always heading to Thoma. He watched as you and Thoma laughed and smiled together, a sight that fueled his jealousy.

Ayato made several attempts to talk to you, but each one was met with curt replies. “Hey Y/N, how are you?” he asked, hoping to start a conversation. “Fine,” you said, quickly walking away. “Are you doing anything today?” he inquired. “Busy helping Thoma.” “Wanna go for a walk?” “Not now.” No matter what he tried, you remained distant, and each rejection tightened the ache in his chest. Months had passed, and it was like this every time you visited. It was driving him insane.

Today was no different. He sat with Kanaka, his eyes fixed on you as you happily chatted with Thoma, your smile brighter than the sun. Why were you acting this way? Was it because of the argument? Kanaka was talking beside him, but Ayato’s focus was entirely on you. He watched closely, his jealousy spiking every time Thoma hugged you, whispered in your ear, or laughed with you. But why did he feel this way? You were single, and he had Kanaka. He shouldn’t be acting like this. Then why did sadness and jealousy twist in his heart every time he saw you with Thoma? He had Kanaka…that should be enough, right?

Ayato’s eyes widened as a familiar, yet long-suppressed, feeling began to stir within him–his feelings for you were resurfacing. He had convinced himself that those emotions were buried deep, rendered inert by time and circumstance. But as he glanced at Kanaka, who was engrossed in her conversation about commissions, his gaze inevitably drifted back to you.

He couldn’t help but notice the brightness of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes as you talked to Thoma. It struck him how much he missed the way you used to look at him like that, how much he longed to hear your voice again. Lost in his thoughts, he unknowingly tightened his grip on his tea glass until it shattered, the sharp sound jolting everyone around. In that moment, his eyes met yours. He saw your beautiful eyes, but the brief relief he felt quickly dissipated as he noticed the light in them had faded, replaced by a profound sadness.

“My dear! Are you alright?” Kanaka asked, but he remained silent. The two of you stared at each other, waiting for someone to break the silence. Unfortunately, it was you who looked away first. He heard Kanaka grumble when she saw the two of you staring at each other.

Odd.

Suddenly, Ayato saw you stand up and thank Thoma. As you turned to leave, something inside him snapped. He couldn’t let you walk away again. Not this time. “Y/N!” he called out, his voice louder than he intended. You stopped but didn’t turn towards him. “Why don’t you come here and join me for some tea? I know it’s your favorite,” he said, a hint of desperation in his tone. “No thanks. I’ve got to go—”

“Yeah, besides, you don’t need her, darling. You can talk to me,” Kanaka interrupted, causing you to glare at her.

“Y/N, please—” “I said no. I’m leaving. Goodbye, Thoma.”

That’s when Ayato’s frustration boiled over. “Thoma this, Thoma that. Hello, Thoma! Goodbye, Thoma! I’m sick of you saying his name! What about me?” he shouted, his voice thick with frustration and hurt. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the sting of his words. The truth was, this hurt you as much as it hurt him. You desperately wanted to make amends with the man you loved…but he chose her over you. And you couldn’t risk losing your necklace, not after losing the most important thing in your life.

“Oh, now you’re not gonna speak to me again? Great. Go ahead, ignore me then. I’ve never seen you act this way before, and quite frankly, I don’t care for it,” Ayato said, his frustration pushing you over the edge. You turned around, eyes blazing with anger. “You don’t get to speak to me like a child! Not after how you treated me during our fight!” you yelled back. “You’re still on about that? That was months ago! Get over it!” he shouted.

“Get over it? How am I supposed to just get over someone who I thought was my best friend—no, the love of my life—believe some girl he barely knows over me! You know the girl who has always been there for you since day one!” you shouted, not realizing you had just confessed to him. His eyes widened at your words. You… loved him? Suddenly, he felt his heart flutter in ways Kanaka never could make it. Kanaka looked furious.

You continued, “Ever since the incident with your parents, I’ve been there for you. I made sure you had someone to sleep next to when you were afraid, I lent you my shoulder to cry on when you needed it, I gave up my happiness for you so you could be happy with this… woman you call your girlfriend!”

“Y/N…” he started, but you cut him off. “But even after all that, it still wasn’t enough for you. I will never be enough for you. I can’t compete with her beauty, her knowledge, her strength—everything! She will always have the upper hand.” Did you really think you were nothing compared to Kanaka? Oh how wrong you were. In his mind, no one could compare to you. Everything about you was unique and special to him.

“Y/N, you’ve got it all wrong—”

“But one thing is for sure. I have more love for you than she ever will. And if you think I enjoy ignoring you, then you don’t know me at all because I’ve been dreading it!” “Then why are you doing it?” he asked, desperate for an answer. “Tell me why!” “Because you chose her over me! And if I get close to you, that necklace she has will be destroyed! I already lost you; I can’t lose that too!” you yelled, making him look down at Kanaka.

For the first time, he saw the malice in her eyes. She grabbed the necklace and held it high. “No! Stop!” you cried, trying to run towards her. “Ah, ah, ah! One more step and this is gone!” she shouted. “You will walk away, and once you’re gone, I’ll send it to you. But I don’t want you around Ayato anymore. Is that clear?” she demanded, making Ayato furious. “Now wait just a second. Y/N will not—”

“Fine,” you interrupted, making him look at you in disbelief. “If I leave Ayato for good, you promise to give me the necklace back?” you asked. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You’d leave me just for your necklace?” he asked, heartbroken. “I have no other choice. You made your decision; now I have to deal with the consequences,” you replied, your voice cold. “Y/N, stop. I don’t like hearing you say that—”

“I don’t care, Ayato. We’re done. It’s over. When you chose her over me, all my feelings for you vanished,” you lied. “You don’t mean that—” “Oh, I mean every word,” you said, glaring at Kanaka. “I’m leaving. That necklace better be at my place within a week,” you demanded, turning to leave. Kanaka smirked and let go of the necklace, letting it fall.

Ayato, Thoma, and you watched as it fell. Ayato suddenly pushed Kanaka away and ran towards it, but it was too late. The delicate necklace shattered on the hard floor. You cried out, scrambling to gather the pieces, tears streaming down your face. “Guards! Seize this woman!” Ayato yelled. A group of large men grabbed Kanaka.

“What!? You can’t do this! I am Kanaka!” she screamed, but they ignored her and threw her out of Ayato’s home. He looked down at your broken figure, his heart aching. He knew how important that necklace was to you, and it was his fault it broke. He heard you sniffle and tried to kneel down to help, but you pushed him away with hatred in your eyes. “Go away! Just get away from me! I don’t want to be around you, and I don’t want your help! You’ve done enough damage!” you yelled, your voice breaking.

“Y/N, I just—”

“No! Stop talking!” you screamed, rising to your feet, the broken pieces still in your hand. You started to walk out. Ayato felt tears well up in his eyes. “Y/N! Come back—”

“I never want to see you again! It would be best if you just disappeared from my life,” you said, slamming the gate shut as you left. Ayato’s tears fell as he knelt to the ground, a severe pain in his heart. “Y/N…I-I’m so sorry…” he whispered, realizing he had lost the true love of his life.

┗━━━━━━⊱ 𝑷𝒕. 𝑰𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 <3333 ⊰━━━━━━┛

#genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #angst #genshin #genshin impact x reader #kamisato ayato #ayato x reader #genshin ayato #thoma #kamisato ayaka #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #ayato x you #ayato x fem!reader #kamisato clan #ayato angst #genshin impact angst #genshin angst

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totaly-obsessed · 11 months

Note

can you write something for mary when she could be having a bad day or something and the reader helps cheer her up

Lucky Gloves

Mary Earps x reader request

-> Mary just needs her girlfriend after a hard day, but it's date night

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

You were late.

Not that you really had somewhere to be, it was more just an annoyance – it was date night. Every Thursday the two of you would go out together, just a little tradition you had carried through two years of dating each other.

“I’m sorry love, let me get changed quickly, and then we can be off.” You rushed into the house, not even seeing Mary anywhere but you were far too stressed to notice.

Ten minutes later, now changed out of your teacher attire you started to look for Mary when she was not read by the door like she usually was. “Mary?” You could not hear an immediate response, furthering your panic. “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

Ah. There she was.

But after following her vague noises you did not find her in a casual-chic outfit ready to wine and dine you like she usually did. “Mary? Love, why are you still wearing your training stuff?”

The goalkeeper did not answer aside from a deep groan as she burrowed her face deeper into your favorite fluffy blanket. Wordlessly you sat down next to the couch on the ground, rubbing her back. “Baby? Are you okay?”

Finally, she turned her head, now facing you. Tired puffy eyes meeting your own. “Sorry love. Let me get dressed.” With cracking bones your girlfriend started sitting up, not expecting you to throw yourself on top of her.

With you straddling her lap, hugging her close to you, she had no way of leaving. Of course, she could just stand up with you on her hip, but she would never use her strength like that, too scared that she would hurt you.

A couple of minutes of careful coaxing and cooing in her ears let the brunette finally relax, nuzzling her face into your warm neck – humming with contentment. “What’s up with you my love, huh?”

Mary would never admit it to her teammates, no matter how much she loved them, but here in your shared home, with you on her lap was the only place that she would ever call home. “Had a really shitty day.”

“Awwh, I’m sorry honey. Why don’t you take a shower and get changed into comfy clothes and I’ll get us some food, huh?”

As good as that sounded, it was Thursday, and it was the goalkeeper's turn to choose the place to eat, and she didn’t want to disappoint you. You, who had shitty days all the time and never needed to be treated like a baby. “But it’s Thursday baby. It’s my tu-“

The blonde couldn’t whine further as she was shut up with her favorite lips giving her a soft kiss. “Nonsense love – quiet night in. Doctor’s order!”

A soft laugh escaped her chest, letting you relax just a little. “Who’s my doctor then?”

“Me of course – silly girl!” Your blatant lie of being a doctor only made the older woman laugh harder, pushing you off her lap. “Alright then.”

Twenty minutes later you were changed into one of Mary’s ‘MAE27’ shirts, fuzzy socks, and some shorts that definitely weren’t yours either. “Supporting me, I see.”

Warm arms wrapped themselves around your waist, Mary’s head finding its favorite place in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses wherever she could. “I’ll always support you, baby.” And she knew you meant it, even without the deep kiss that followed your silent promise – but she was thankful for it either way.

Mary laid the cutlery down on the couch table, ignoring your perfectly made dining space, opting for comfort instead.

So here you were, each a bowl of your favorite soup in your lap while the goalkeeper’s feet kept digging into your sides.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s made your day so bad then, love?” You had both finished your bowls, so Mary took it upon herself to steal yours from you, setting them both down on the table before laying back on the couch – pulling you on top of her.

Your front pressed snuggly against yours as her prize-winning hands found their place in your hair, giving you a massage.

“This morning I woke up without you – bad enough. Then I couldn’t find my lucky gloves and spilled my coffee. So I wanted to go to that tiny shop down the road, yeah? I get there – closed! Can you imagine? So I get to training and all Mark did was yell at me, fucking hate that prick. And then Ella – goddamn Tooney goes and fucking lobs me. The cheek the girl has! And, oh my god, she didn’t shut up about it!”

Mary’s rant continued for a while, finally getting everything off her chest. But no matter how shitty her day was, here in your arms life was perfect.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #engwnt x reader #woso imagines #lionesses x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps #man united wfc x reader

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xileonaaaa · 5 months

Text

Thinking of a wealthy Nanami who is absolutely smitten for you

Nanami x reader au

*He isn’t some uptight goody two shoes.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ ㆍ┈ㆍㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ ㆍ┈ㆍㆍ┈₊⊹

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡��⋆

!NanamiKento who met you through a mutual friend at a work gathering.

!NanamiKento who found himself entranced at the way you weren’t afraid to speak your mind at any given chance. Not to mention, just how much you seemed to shine in the midst of his drunk coworkers.

!NanamiKento who took to silently admiring your drunken mannerisms as the night progressed.

!NanamiKento who was quick to follow you when you went to the bathroom just to make sure that you’d be okay.

!NanamiKento who paitiently waited for you to reemerge from the ladies room, ignoring the groups of drunken women who tried their best to throw themselves at him.

!NanamiKento who ended up getting distracted trying to free himself from one of them who had somehow wrapped herself around his waist.

!NanamiKento who nearly panicked when he happened to look up, and see you getting cornered by a very drunk man.

!NanamiKento who nearly shoved the woman -who was literally grinding on him- off in one move as he made his way over to you to try and help you.

!NanamiKento who found himself frozen in his tracks when he saw you reel back and kick the man straight in the balls, before prying off your pretty heels and clunking the hunched over man on the head a few times.

!NanamiKento who didn’t realize his mouth was agape until he saw you hop over the guy who was groaning in pain on the floor, and grab his wrist, swiftly making a beeline for the exit before you could face any repercussions.

!NanamiKento who found himself actually going along with your very ridiculous act.

!NanamiKento who let you guide him outside, and felt a little cold when you let his wrist go.

!NanamiKento who was about to speak up and ask if you were okay, before his breath was stolen once more when he saw you converting your dress into a bodysuit.

!NanamiKento who quickly looked away to maintain some sort of decency, and only looked back when he heard you bid him a soft goodnight.

!NanamiKento who felt his heart actually stall for a second when you placed a finger to your lips and winked at him, saying “No witnesses.”

!NanamiKento who could only nod and try his best to swallow with his strangely dry throat.

!NanamiKento who went back in that restaurant feeling like he’d never felt before. For the first time, in a long time, he was actually holding back a smile.

!NanamiKento who wanted nothing more than to see you again, and maybe even get to know you.

!NanamiKento who thought about your very brief but strange interaction all week long.

!NanamiKento who actually ended up asking his mutual friend (in a very subtle way) how you were doing, and deep down, he wondered if he’d ever get to see you again.

!NanamiKento who learned that you might be getting let go from the company due to your overly smart mouth.

!NanamiKento who had to keep himself from outright laughing at the thought of your tiny self trying to go toe to toe with your boss.

!NanamiKento who went about his days trying his best to work up the confidence to ask you to dinner.

!NanamiKento who let a whole three weeks pass, before he finally approached you.

!NanamiKento who almost deviated from his usual laid back attire he usually wore out to first dates, simply because he genuinely wanted to impress you.

!NanamiKento who pulled up to your little apartment 30 minutes early, and was surprised when he saw you already waiting by your doorstep.

!NanamiKento who took notice on how you didn’t seem repulsed by his rustbucket of a car. (He’s the type to use the most mundane things for the first date. It’s an easy way to see if you actually want him, or want what you think he’s worth.)

!NanamiKento who sat across from you, listening as you talked about a little bit of everything. If you were just trying to patch up the awkward silence, or if you just loved to talk, he couldn’t tell. He loved it either way.

!NanamiKento who found himself genuinely interested in the things you had to say. Even going so far as to finish his food so that he could give you his full, undivided attention.

!NanamiKento who offered to cut your steak for you, but was taken aback when you politely declined, and dramatically stabbed your knife into the meat, cutting it with force, before popping it in your mouth, and grinning at him.

!NanamiKento who couldn’t help but smile back at you, genuinely feeling convinced that you had to be the most strangest woman he’d ever met. (In a good way of course.)

!NanamiKento who spent the most time in that restaurant just conversing with you, than he’d ever spent anywhere else besides his home.

!NanamiKento who felt a bit sad when he had to take you home, and was quick to ask for a second date before you could turn in for the night.

!NanamiKento who felt just a little let down when you told him that you’d think about it, but immediately perked up when you offered to stay in touch.

!NanamiKento who cursed himself all the way home for not trying just a little bit harder. Maybe he shouldn’t have went with his usual method.

!NanamiKento who made it a point to stop by your cubicle every morning just to say hi, and sometimes bring you coffee.

!NanamiKento who started to notice your very apparent eye bags, and the piles upon piles of work that began littering your desk.

!NanamiKento who felt like something wasn’t exactly right, and took it upon himself to do a little bit of digging through corporate files to see just who oversaw your work.

!NanamiKento who took his time gathering evidence to bring up to the big boss to prove you were being targeted by your own boss.

!NanamiKento who would pass by your cubicle to check on you, and take a chunk off of your enormous pile of paperwork for himself to do.

!NanamiKento who would often see you hurriedly rushing out of the office without your stuff, going who knows where.

!NanamiKento who caught you trying to take the bus one evening, but ended up missing it, and hurriedly stopped you, and asked you if you noticed that you’d left your stuff behind.

!NanamiKento who listened as you explained that you needed to get home to feed your two cats their dinner, and come back before the security guard locked up the office for the night.

!NanamiKento who offered to drive you to your apartment, and was beside himself when he heard your genuine thanks.

!NanamiKento who hesitated when he dropped you back at the office. Feeling a bit concerned at just how dark it was, he asked if you needed him to stay and help you, but his help was of course refused, and a part of him understood why. You were a very independent woman, and he respected that, so he let you go, but not before asking you to stay safe, and bidding you a goodnight.

!NanamiKento who found that through all of his research, he was too late in helping you keep your job.

!NanamiKento who happened to walk in early the next morning to a you tearing your boss a new one. You didn’t use a single swear word, and you didn’t even raise your voice. You gave it to him plain and simple, before storming back to your cubicle and collecting your things.

!NanamiKento who was beyond stunned, tried to stop you, and have you reconsider your decision, but the minute you looked up at him, he was able to see just how much your overtime was having an effect on you. Dark circles were under both of your eyes, you looked a little under the weather too.

!NanamiKento who let you walk out of that office, and made it a point to stop by your place to make sure you were okay.

!NanamiKento who was correct on his assumption that you were sick when you opened up your apartment door to let him in.

!NanamiKento who was glad he chose soup for his takeout option, and did his best to help you around your tiny apartment.

!NanamiKento who returned home that night thinking about something he would’ve never in a million years thought about, had it not been you.

!NanamiKento spent the next coming weeks visiting you, thinking about your predicament, and what he could do to possibly help you out. He knew well enough by now that you were the last person to ever except handouts, no matter how low you were.

!NanamiKento who considered asking you to be his girlfriend, and moving you and your two cats in with him.

!NanamiKento who thought about that possibility for days, weeks, hell a whole month went by, and he started to notice the bills piling up on your kitchen counter.

!NanamiKento who finally broke, and ended up asking you to be his on Valentine’s Day. He was so happy when you accepted, he even smiled!

!NanamiKento who immediately proposed that you move in with him, maybe until you got back on your feet. Hell, if you wanted, you could just stay and not bother getting another job. He didn’t want to ever see you with eye bags again. (You agreed to move in with him, but of course declined his offer of not getting another job.)

!NanamiKento who took note of your reaction when you saw his house for the first time.

!NanamiKento who yet again was surprised that your first thought was at how cold and barren his home seemed when he gave you a tour of it.

!NanamiKento who offered for you to decorate it for him. He didn’t particularly care for stuff like that, but if if made you happy, then he was all for it.

!NanamiKento who came home from work the next night to the smell of a delicious aroma filling his home.

!NanamiKento who was beside himself when he found out that you’d cooked dinner for him, and was waiting on him to get home so the two of you could eat together.

!NanamiKento who’s favorite part of the day was coming home to you, with dinner on the stove, and you diligently applying for more jobs on his sofa.

!NanamiKento who enjoys sitting down for dinner, and telling you about what’s been going on in the office.

!NanamiKento who is always eager to be the taste tester whenever you decide to try out a new dish.

!NanamiKento who doesn’t mind staying in the kitchen and helping you with the dishes after the both of you finish eating.

!NanamiKento who loves winding down, with you perched up on one side of the sofa doing some online shopping for things to decorate his house with, and him laying right next to you reading a new novel he’d checked out from the library. (He was not comprehending anything he was reading because he was too busy thanking his lucky stars that he got to meet someone as wonderful as you.)

!NanamiKento who usually waits for you to get up and start on another task because you can’t sleep, before he goes ahead and orders whatever it is that you have in your cart.

!NanamiKento who is more of a lover boy than you could have ever imagined. He would sometimes show up from work with a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers, claiming that he saw them on his way home, and they reminded him of your smile, so he stopped and got them for you.

!NanamiKento who lets himself relax around you, and lets you in on his more secret, vulnerable side.

!NanamiKento who laughs the most when he’s around you. You’re always making him chuckle, whether you mean to or not.

!NanamiKento who shows his appreciation for you by taking you out almost every weekend, and letting you pick out whatever it is you desire from the mall.

!NanamiKento who’s only reason to continue going to work is to be able to make you the happiest, and most comfortable woman alive.

!NanamiKento who loves you with every fiber of his being, and never knows what expect from you, and to be honest, he loves that the most about you.

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami x fem!reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #soft nanami #tumblr fyp #fypシ

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neocitycafe · 10 months

Text

Nightwatch (Mark)

♡ genre: ginger tea - sageuk/historical; a little bit of everything--romantic fluff, soft smut, light angst

✎ words: 7.5k

✓ summary/notes: Mark Lee, loyal guard to the crown prince, unexpectedly meets court nurse!reader in a palace where everyone has dreams a little bigger than their roles seem to allow. Featuring small appearances by other NCT members: prince Jaemin, illustrator Renjun, royal physician Doyoung, and more. Inspired in part by Neo Zone’s “Kick It” concept.... (a few extended thoughts here) Enjoy!!

P.S. I realize that the name “Mark” is out of place for a historical Korean setting… Please imagine that there’s some sort of inside joke or creative story where Lee Minhyung’s nickname became Mark :P @nctsworld tagging you, cee! thank you for the endless fun chatter and fangirling every day, and for the real encouragement too, through the years.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　One: Medicine at Midnight　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

When you sneak into the herbal pantry room at half past midnight, the last thing you expect is someone else already there, rummaging through the musty drawers. A lone candle casts strange shadows dancing between the herb sachets hanging from the ceiling.

Holding your breath, you map out the fastest path back to where you slept. You had waited until your fellow court nurses were sound asleep, tiptoed past Doyoung’s quarters and his light snoring, and followed slivers of moonlight on the familiar floorboards.

You turn to make your escape, but it’s too late. The person in the room spins around and blows out the candle lighting the room. He pins you against the wall and sends the surrounding room into dizzying darkness.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is low and commanding, and his body is held like a string strung taut, ready to meet its target. As your eyes adjust to the dimness, you find that he’s wearing all black. Gold threads swirl into the figure of a dragon, glimmering softly across his chest. He must be a royal guard. You’d never spoken to one before. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” He repeats himself and tightens his hold around your wrist.

You whisper your name, keeping your head bowed. “I- I work here, sir. Nurse under royal physician Kim Doyoung.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Lee Mark. Eastern Palace.” You look up to meet shining eyes and a face softer than the voice it held. For a moment, you’re mesmerized. In his eyes, stars twinkle with a youthful wonder that you didn’t expect to discover there. You realize your position and cast your gaze downwards again.

Mark takes in your lashes, the quiver in your lip, the loose white cotton wrapped around your shoulders. He draws a quick breath. You must be the one. The court nurse Prince Jaemin keeps talking about. The one who brews seemingly magical healing drafts and whose laugh is like a breeze on a hot summer’s day. Noticing your proximity and your lack of proper attire, he backs away and the warmth of his hands leaves you.

You’re grateful the palace guard doesn’t question further about why you are here for medicine in the middle of the night. But to direct attention elsewhere… “And may I ask what brings you at this hour, naeuri?”

He smiles sheepishly before pushing back his right sleeve, revealing several cuts and a scabbing elbow. “It hurts just a bit.” His voice is sweeter now, almost innocent. “Doyoung said I could let myself in and put something on to help with this. As long as I tell him what exactly I took. I didn’t know we’d finish training so late after hours.”

It looks like it hurts more than a bit. You wonder if they are battle scars, but you save the questions. You find a small bowl of water, the correct ingredients for a salve, and fresh linen to clean and dress the wounds. Mark expects to wince when you press down on his arm but instead, a feeling of cool spreads through his elbow.

Maybe it’s the quiet of the night and tight space that makes Mark feel like he can let down his guard and trust you with anything. “Actually, I got like this tripping on my own feet this morning. Nothing heroic. But don’t tell anyone. I’ll never hear the end of it if Donghyuck finds out.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” You laugh softly, and it does seem like a breeze on a warm day, Mark can’t help but think to himself. It reminds him of the lightness of his younger years, before palace life, duties, and always being on watch.

You almost share your secret too, with the way he smiles and asks about the cooling ointment, intrigued by how you made it. But after he leaves, you creep back to the medicine drawers. You take a fistful of what you were looking for and hide it in a pocket you’d sewn inside your skirts.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Two: Night Watch Walks　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

You try to drop a silver coin into Renjun’s palm, but he pushes your hand away.

“Please, no need! I promise I’ll get it to your mother.”

“It’s the home closest to the lake. My father’s usually fishing before dawn, but by midday he’ll stop by with lunch.” You keep rambling, and Renjun tsks impatiently but good-naturedly.

“I know how important this is to you.”

It’s not the first time Renjun is doing a delivery for you. He has also transcribed, illustrated, and read letters for you. He did this all under the guise of selling parchment pouches and bags needed for drying herbs, of course. He slips away with the setting sun.

Most of the nurses had wrapped up for the evening and withdrawn to their quarters early, glad for the extra rest. But your mind is a storm cloud. You’d seen firsthand how the queen barely recovered in time from her ailments last spring. You hope your father described your mother’s condition with accuracy and that the combination of herbs is correct. It was always dark when you picked them out of Doyoung’s drawers, relying on your muscle memory for where everything was stored. One ingredient is very rare and expensive, and you pray Renjun doesn’t get delayed, or worse, found out.

“Are you following me?” A voice shakes you, and you’re surprised to see Mark a few steps away across the courtyard. You had wandered with no destination and found yourself with the guard you met last week.

“No… Just taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep.” He nods in response. His eyes scan the surroundings and he keeps walking, but you feel him slow his gait for you.

“Well, I’m on night watch duty.”

“Then I’m on night watch duty too,” you reply.

“Oh, you are?”

“Yes, making sure you don’t trip over your own feet again.”

Mark stops and laughs. “It was a one time thing!”

“How’s the elbow?”

It has healed up nicely and the rest of your path around the Eastern Palace is spent getting to know Mark. You stay one step behind him, landing your foot where his shadow would’ve been in the day. There’s something comfortable about being together, and you almost forget about your worries. Mark’s voice is like gentle rain, a pitter-patter, interspersed with an occasional giggle, and you could listen to it forever.

Mark doesn’t trip once following the familiar route around the palace grounds. But he notices the beating of his heart, faster than usual for the pace he was walking.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You find yourself walking with Mark the next night, and the one after the next. It’s like your feet are naturally pointed towards him. You learn that Mark enjoys writing and poetry. He sometimes gets lost in his thoughts. His nose gets scrunched up in an endearing way when he’s too focused on something. He is skilled with his hands, especially with shooting arrows, but a bit clumsy with everything else. You are impressed that Mark is part of multiple units in the palace, and you admire how upright and hardworking he is. He makes you want to strive to be a better person yourself. You understand why he was selected as one of the crown prince’s closest guards.

“If you enjoy language and writing, maybe you can become an author and publish some poems?”

Mark shakes his head. “I have one job for life. Protect the prince, the palace, the city.”

“But what if you could?”

Mark wants to tell you he has started writing more in the past few weeks. Late at night, when he can’t stop thinking about you. Instead, what he says is, “But you know I can’t.”

“Alright then…” You would come back to this but you change the subject for now. “I was wondering, is Prince Na as handsome as the court ladies say he is?” Mark’s eyes become comically round at your question.

“I hope you were about to say he’s even more handsome than they say he is?”

It’s dark out, but the sweeping royal blue of the crown prince’s clothing is hard to miss. You freeze and hold a deep bow, but Jaemin waves it away, as if dismissing the formalities. His smile is swoonworthy, if you’ve ever seen one that fits that description. The corners of his eyes crinkle in mischief.

“I need a word with you,” the prince nods towards Mark, and you bow three more times, backing away.

Mark waits until you are out of earshot, the anxieties surfacing unbidden. Did Jaemin have his eyes set on you? Mark pictures you with lavish gifts that only a crown prince could afford. Or better yet, the prince could grant you status and freedom, he could support a large, happy, growing family—

“What is she like?” Jaemin’s question breaks his thoughts. And then all the things that Mark loves about you come rushing to his mind.

“Yes, well, she is very bright. And genuine. Kind of daring. Creative. So funny sometimes, even when she doesn’t mean to be. Carefree, beautiful… very beautiful.” Mark gushes almost reverently before realizing he may have misspoke. Prince Jaemin liked to keep it casual, but Mark wanted to show his due respect. “Um, she is a loyal servant to the kingdom,” he tacks on lamely at the end, trying to sound more professional.

“Be happy.” Jaemin’s words are loaded with meaning, and he grins at Mark’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “It’s a royal command.”

Mark isn’t sure, but he thinks his long-time friend sounds resigned beneath it all. Despite Jaemin’s smile, he could tell that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You see, Na Jaemin had many things: a seal that dictated the law of the land, fine teas from the east, sweet tangerines from Jeju island, the smoothest of silk robes, and more. But the privilege to love? Not something he could place a stamp on, taste, or touch.

He wants to ask you, the miracle court nurse, is there not a draught that makes the heart a little lighter? A concoction to soothe the soul? But for now, it satisfies him to make the romance of those around him blossom. He smiles at Mark’s giddy expression, the image of one of the sharpest palace guards now bashful, shy, and in love.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Three: Holiday　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

You’re shaking while staring at the letter in your hands. You can’t read your father’s script, but Renjun assures you the message says your mother is now feeling much better. They followed your exact directions and her fever broke the next day. Renjun smiles as you tuck the paper away. He had always loved painting. As a child, he found scraps of parchment and spent hours recreating the world with strokes of ink. But his family’s paper-making business needed his support, and he put his passion aside as a hobby. Being able to illustrate your instructions and messages feels like a dream come true he never knew he could achieve. He has a chance to paint the fine lines of sesame leaves, the mixed white and yellow blossoms of crown daisies, and the rough texture of milkwort root. You thank Renjun profusely, telling him he’s a lifesaver with his artwork, and you exchange the next secret package and note. A neighbor’s baby has been colicky and you recommend a tummy-friendly catmint and fennel tea.

You know it is wrong to take from the royal physician’s storage, but these things aren’t being used. You can’t help the elation bubbling up in your chest knowing that people were feeling better because of what you were trying.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” You look up at the familiar voice. You want to gush all about it. It’s not that you don’t want to share with him. But Mark is so good, so honest. He waits until you finish your duties to invite you on night time walks now. With him, it’s always responsibilities first. You make sure the fire’s out, the lid covering the stone pot completely, before following him towards the Eastern Palace pond.

“Well, it’s my holiday tomorrow! I’m visiting my home, the fishing village by Resonance Lake!” While not the exact reason, this is true, and it is cause for your joy. It’s one of your few days off for the year, granted in exchange for your service to the kingdom.

“Ah, I see.” You notice that wistfulness tinges his voice. “Taeil said that there’s supposed to be a full moon tomorrow night. I was hoping to see it with you. But of course, you can see it from where you’ll be too!”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the comment. You want to tell him that seeing the full moon together sounds lovely, and you’ll be sure to return to the palace before the Western Gate closes for the night. But he’s being called away by another guard, ending your walk abruptly. He gives you a small nod and then you watch as Mark speeds away like an arrow, silent and unswerving.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Home is running into open arms, tearing up when your father tells you you’re his pride, and holding your mother’s weak hand. Her health has improved dramatically, but she still needs rest, so she sends you out to the market to enjoy the sunshine on her behalf. Your father kept one of his best catches from the morning instead of selling it, and you promise to fetch the freshest vegetables to complement it for dinner.

While the town market does not carry the fine ingredients for a king’s many side dishes, it does have the goods that local commoners scrounge up to barter and trade. Seasonal wild greens, mushrooms and roots of all kinds, fresh and dried. Just thinking of the colors and scents has your mind drawing connections. Bean sprouts for soup, maybe some bellflower root to boost immunity...

Someone steps in front of you, and you almost knock into their chest. Instead of his black guard’s outfit, it’s a jewel-toned hanbok he’s dressed in and a commoner’s hat shielding his shining eyes from the sun. With high cheekbones ready to rise with his laughter, he looks so dashing you think you may be daydreaming.

“Mark!” He breaks into the hugest grin. “How are you here... Are you following me?”

“Nope. Just taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep.” He gives you the most dramatic wink, and you laugh because it’s midday and you’ve never seen him like this. “Actually, I took a holiday today too.” Prince Jaemin was more than happy to authorize it, as long as Mark helped him sneak out for a day of fun too. (He took off with another guard, Lee Jeno.)

Mark lets you pull him along through the merchant stalls and he claps along to the beat of traveling pansori performers, happy to shed his usual role and responsibilities. He becomes just a young man with the lovely one he wants to pursue.

The youthful wonder in his eyes is back, and when he sees the way your eyes light up too, his heart wants nothing more than to be the reason. He plays point-and-learn encyclopedia with you and all that you see.

“What are those funny things?”

“Ginger, silly. But I like to get them from another lady. And these are eggs, you know. The thing you have for breakfast sometimes.”

“I know what eggs look like! I can cook them!”

“Debatable.”

He pouts and points at some whole grains. “What about those?”

“These are good for your digestion.” You place a hand on your stomach as if to demonstrate. He points to the next row, curious about the bottles of dark liquid kept in the shade. “Ah, eel extract. That’s good for…” You gesture a bit lower and he gawks.

“What?!”

“At least that's what I heard. Want to try?” He shakes his head quickly and you think you hear him mutter, “Don’t need that…”

The ginger seller is chatting with another customer about unrest in the east, and Mark tilts his head in interest. His visit to town in regular garb is not without a mission after all. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. His eyes have dimmed to something more serious, but with the softness of an apology. “Hey, can I find you after dinner?”

You nod, understanding his signals. “Okay, the lake. By the last house, around the corner of the village.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mark is true to his word. You’ve only made yourself comfortable in the grass looking out to the lake for a few minutes when he joins you, plopping himself down.

You can tell he doesn’t want to talk about his work, so you don’t pry. Instead, you let him ask all the questions. You share memories of swimming in the lake when you were young, the first time you gathered berries from the forest outside of the palace and almost got lost, how you wish to sneak out to see the cosmos flowers next autumn. You conclude that it seems like your penchant for trying new things always gets you into trouble. Mark reassures you that they do make for marvelous stories though.

“Remember when we talked about how I’d be a writer if I had the chance to do anything? How about you?”

“Me?” You pause, eyes following the ringed patterns left by dragonflies touching the still water. “I’d become the best physician. Even better than Kim Doyoung.” It’s exhilarating to say it out loud.

“You want to take his place as head royal physician?”

“Oh. No, not in the palace.”

“Then where?”

“I don’t know.” You’d never allowed yourself to dream what you wanted any further. You turn back to gaze in the direction of the town, thoughts drifting towards the bustle of the market earlier in the day.

“I think you’d be amazing.” Mark’s voice brings you back.

“I’m not amazing now?”

“That you are too.” He transforms your joke into sincerity, just like that. It’s his turn to pause this time, and you move to face him. His breath warms your cheek with how close you are, and his eyes are brimming with something that you can’t name. “I… I’ve come to care for you,” he confesses. He takes your hand in his.

It’s love. It’s adoration. It’s a little fear for what may come. It’s hope. It’s desire.

You lace your fingers together and Mark feels that his heart may burst. “I care for you too, Mark.”

The full moon rises, but both of you are too busy to notice tonight.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Four: The Space Above the Library　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

“Where are we going?” Mark’s tugging you off course from the path you usually walk.

“A secret!”

“What about your duties?”

“It’s Yeongho’s turn for the night watch. He’s the One Two Seven squad captain, and he says we need to rethink the security. Something about northeastern borders. This way.”

One moment you’re outside, at the back of the palace library, and the next Mark has leapt on top of the roof. He reaches down and lifts you with surprising ease. You hang on, letting out a squeak and hooking your arms around his neck as he holds you snug against his chest. He carries you further upwards and you close your eyes tight, trusting him. After a few more minutes of lurching and movement, you feel Mark settle down. Could you be on the rooftop? He places you in his lap, your back against his chest.

“Whoa, where’d you learn to scale buildings like that--?” The question dies on your lips as you open your eyes to look out to the view spanning before you. Mark tightens his arms around you.

From this vantage point above the library, your eyes follow the path of a crane as it takes flight from the palace pond. It glides upwards towards the western gate where the sun has already set with colors between lavender and forget-me-nots and into the forests. And further, the expanse of N City beyond the palace gates unfolds, lights glittering like fireflies. A river courses into a lake, the lake by your home that looks like a tear-shaped puddle from this distance. The stars are rising and Mark kisses your hair. The moment is perfect.

“Oh, I got something for you,” you tell him, trying to sound laid back. An excited anticipation bubbles up in your voice anyway. You turn in Mark’s hold so you’re facing him and straddling his lap, and you try not to notice how he has trouble shifting into a comfortable position. From Mark’s perspective, you’re very close and warm. He makes a poor attempt at composing himself and keeps one arm around your back, his free hand taking the little package you fish out of your pockets.

Renjun had said he could loan you one of his old ones from home, but you insisted he find you a new one and a nice one at that. It cost more of your allowance than it should, but Mark’s curious expression is worth more than every bright coin you owned.

He slowly unrolls the ink brush from its cloth wraps, jaw dropping in silence, admiring the smooth wooden handle and soft bristles. “For all the stories you will tell,” you breathe softly.

Mark’s mind is often filled with so many words, but right now he is rendered speechless. He carefully places the gift into a pocket of his own and draws you in to thank you with his lips.

The kiss starts sweet and strong like steaming honey citron tea, deepening when Mark tilts his head and brings his hands up to hold your face. When he tastes you with his tongue, it’s like the world around you fades to night and he is the only light you see. Mark shivers as you card your fingers through his hair. You lean in so you’re as close as possible, feeling aware of every part of you that’s touching, the heat blooming between you, his unmistakable excitement now pressing into you, and your hearts beating rapidly.

You tug on his collar, wanting to trail your kisses down the column of his neck and further, but Mark untangles himself from you and holds you at a distance. He swallows thickly. “I am a man of honor. Let me wed you first.”

“Mark, bed me…” You barely believe the words coming out of your own mouth, but you know you want him desperately. “Please.”

At your plea, his eyes grow wide, and then they narrow, swirling with desire. He makes a noise between a chuckle and a groan and moves to get to his feet. For a moment, a pang of rejection creeps into your chest, but Mark reaches for your hand to help you up too. He can’t believe how easy it is for him to give in to you, but he knows he wants you too, with his whole heart. “Come on then!” His smile is boyish and free, and you are quick to follow, treading carefully along the eaves and through a well-disguised door at the side of the roof. With you, Mark feels all the straight lines he has built up loosening into the loops and curls of ribbons. For you, he dares to step out for a new adventure.

Mark’s space above the library is plain. You spot a few scrolls and stacks of books, and you wonder whether his thoughts and writing fill the pages. You wonder what kinds of stories he has been reading lately. But those are questions for later. You fall first into the place where he sleeps and pull again at the fabric of his collar, until he’s almost lying on top of you. Mark is careful with his weight, holding himself up on his palms by your face, and he pauses to ask, “Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

You try to pull Mark’s top off, but the sleeves get caught on his elbows, and you both giggle, momentarily breaking the heady rush you were in. Once he has peeled off the rest of his guard’s uniform, you stare unabashedly at how lean and toned he is beneath his clothing. With you, Mark realizes he doesn’t feel shy or embarrassed. He feels free to be goofy, to make mistakes, to be himself. He appreciates how you eagerly touch him. You trace a star-shaped scar on his chest and kiss the tiny moles on the side of his neck and near the corner of his lips.

There are too many knots and ribbons tied in a hanbok, Mark grumbles aloud. You shake with laughter because really, it’s more complicated to put on and pretty easy to remove. Slowly, he loosens the bow on your chest, admiring every part of you revealed, kissing your skin reverently, before pulling at the one around your waist and marveling more at the wonder of you.

It’s a bit drafty and cold when you’re unwrapped and bare under him, but Mark’s lips are soon emblazoned along your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. His fingers are hot as they dance across your skin, down your sides and dipping below, between your thighs and finding your desire for him evident. He reaches lower and trails a fingertip along your inner thigh. His touch is slow and light, drawing upwards toward your center. You realize he’s writing something on your skin when he whispers “love you” close to your ear, sealing the words into your heart. Mark’s finger trails upwards along your other thigh, tracing shapes and lines. And this time, he says “forever.”

Mark knows you’re eager and ready for more, so he lets you help guide his hand until he’s at the perfect spot. He begins to draw circles earnestly where you want him, watching you intently as you sigh in pleasure.

“Good?”

“Mm-hmm. Very.” You extend the “very” and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. Mark’s so good as a person, as a friend, as a lover, that you’re almost overwhelmed by it all. He spells out his love for you, over and again.

When you reach for him after some time, longing to please him too, Mark simply moves his hands to hold yours in his own. He presses his body down closer to slide his length against you without entering you, and the both of you moan at the friction and new sensations. Heat courses through you, warm in your belly, right down to your toes, and back to your core again as he moves against you. Back and forth he rocks, your fingers clasping his more tightly, stars spinning above you, until you’re coming, coming undone beneath him, chanting his name. Mark slows down until you’ve caught your breath. He untangles his hands from yours to reach up and smooth the hair from your forehead.

“Will you have me?” You lift your hips in response to his question, digging your fingertips into his back, pulling him close.

“I’m yours.”

You let out a gasp as Mark presses the head of his cock into you. He’s careful and tender, kissing your breath away before moving to push in all the way. With effort, you open your eyes to look up into his. You hold each other and behold each other, connected from beginning to end. He drags along your warmth, languid and loving, and dives back in again.

Mark could write verses, he could write volumes, he could write songs about you.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Five: Embroidery Needles　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

Kim Doyoung immediately reports the missing contents of his storage shelves. Rose hips, cinnamon bark, and licorice root. Not to mention, the garlic, gingko, ginger, even ginseng! The contents that had vanished far outweighed what the palace guards who occasionally dropped in without notice could take. At first he thought it may be just that, but completing his personal annual inspection revealed otherwise. In retrospect, you should have known that Doyoung would be the type to measure and catalog all of his work. Perhaps you were getting too carried away in your fantasies, distracted by the romance of your dreams.

Doyoung doesn’t mean to be an exacting person; he is just an exact person. But he wasn’t always this way. The voices in his memories remind him why.

“Must’ve wasted them, feeding it to those beasts he keeps!”

“That little thief. Always thought he looked different from everyone else.”

“Glad he and his family were exiled.”

Hot tears well up just remembering it, and Doyoung bites the inside of his cheek to keep the anger down. His best friend in his younger years. Lee Taeyong. Taeyong who cared so much for life, for animals, large and small. Taeyong who once placed a tiny green frog in Doyoung’s palm. It scared Doyoung half to death, but Taeyong kept going on about how cute it was. When the queen’s herbal remedies had gone missing, there were no records kept at the time. The scheming political officials were quick to separate themselves from the situation, shifting blame on the innocent. Taeyong, their scapegoat, was branded as a thief and banished to hard labor. Doyoung vowed to catch the actual culprits next time. He would take careful notes and calculated steps if he needed to. He rose in the ranks as head physician over the years, hoping he could one day gain the power or connections to exonerate his friend.

Word travels to the crown prince about trouble with one of the court nurses stealing from the physician’s storeroom. Naturally, word gets to one the crown prince’s closest guards too.

Mark wants to understand, but he can’t afford to. His role is to guard the prince, and his team needs his complete focus and commitment, especially now. He had shown you his everything. His favorite spot to watch the sun set, his corner above the library, his innermost thoughts, his whole being. The hurt and betrayal felt bitter like poison. He thinks back to your chance encounter which he so treasured in his memories, now tainted with the thought that you might have been in the act of stealing that very night. His brows furrow and he doesn’t notice how tightly his jaw is clenched. He’s torn between following the rules which condemn you as a thief and siding with his personal knowledge of what you are like. He wants to talk with you, but he can’t seem to find you in all the usual spots. And now he hardly has the time to look for you with his new schedule. The palace guards have ramped up on meetings, and he’s exhausted from splitting time between all the units he’s in. Jungwoo’s sword nearly nicks his neck when Mark realizes how far his thoughts had wandered. The more he aches, the further he pushes into his training, exerting the pent up emotion in combat practice.

Prince Na, having lost his sister to spies from a neighboring kingdom in childhood, had no room for deceitfulness. It was merciful enough that Doyoung would be the one to deal with you directly.

“Sir, I… I’m sorry I tried making something new and overcooked it and threw it out. I’m willing to make up for it. I also got some of the ingredients mixed up. I’ll wash up all the bowls for the next month. I’ll gather the roots too! I promise, I--”

“I don’t need your excuses. I thought better of you.”

You hate to admit it, but his words stung. Doyoung had been like a mentor to you.

Doyoung knew you never mixed up the ingredients though. He knew you could probably identify them without even seeing them. And your new concoctions often became the best remedies, never failures. As much as he was angry, he was not one to be cruel. After probing further and finding no other double-dealing plots or secret orders you were following, he lets out a long sigh and tells you his next orders.

You should have been grateful that you weren’t sentenced to something more serious, but you would rather lose your bi-annual rice stipend than this. Or reorganize all the drawers to the picky head physician’s standards. Instead, you are relegated to beginning embroidery. Embroidery! Not allowed near the food or medicine, and in a completely opposite wing of the palace. Doyoung warns you that all the guards are informed and will be watching you.

Oh but there is one palace guard who must not want to see you. Since the news broke, you haven't seen him anywhere. No night time walks, definitely no night time views, only emptiness in your chest and no place to run.

Would Mark misunderstand that you were only skin deep with him? You know that isn’t it, but you also know you broke his trust. You are a thief, no matter the intentions, but you feel a tangled mix of shame, anger, frustration, and a sense of powerlessness that you cannot unravel. You think it might be better for him not to be associated with you after all. You wonder if he regrets meeting you.

You have to ignore the many new inquiries that Renjun tries to deliver to you, telling him it’s no longer safe to make the exchanges. Worry creases his brows when even his beautiful new drawing of the cosmos field you want to visit one day brings no change in emotion to your face.

You do your best to pore into your daily tasks, but it’s monotonous work, embroidery, with nothing more exciting than occasionally pricking yourself with a needle. You curse under your breath.

But what hurts most, perhaps, is the blank expression and emptiness in his eyes the one time you finally do catch sight of each other across a hallway. It’s brief, like two strangers passing. And as you haul bolts of silk upon your shoulder, you will yourself to think that it’s the burden of the weight and the sharp-pointed embroidery needles. Actually, you are quite certain what hurts most.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Six: Fire　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

It’s that nightmare again. You’re falling from the library’s rooftop and into a bottomless lake. Mark’s sparkling eyes turn wounded, guarded, cold. What happens next is plunging into utter darkness and a numbing freeze taking over your limp body. But this time, the dream takes a turn. The waters around you swirl, sweltering hot, and start closing in. Instead of a deafening silence, voices are screaming. You try to decipher what they are saying, kicking to tread water and struggling to stay afloat.

“To the West Gate! To the West Gate!”

You jolt awake. The commotion of your dreams collides with reality. You piece together the hazy outline of Doyoung’s figure past the doorway amidst smoke and chaos. He’s shouting instructions, pushing people in one direction. The palace is under attack.

Crawling on your knees and holding a sleeve over your nose and mouth, you make it to the courtyard. White-gray ash and embers flicker through the air and you fight to breathe. You can’t see anything for a moment, but the wind picks up, carrying the thick smoke away. You turn to take in your surroundings and you stop in your tracks at what you find. In the exact opposite direction to the throngs of courtesans fleeing, an orange glow is consuming the Eastern Palace and the library right next to it, dark plumes of smoke billowing out.

The words of love, of history, tales of wonder, poetry and promises. Burning.

There’s nothing you can do but to cry out, “Mark!” Your lungs burn, and you struggle to stand to your feet and shove against the bodies of those trying to escape. “Mark!”

The singing of arrows across the air brings your focus sharply back to your feet on the ground and you find that you are being pushed along with the crowds, dragged towards the West Gate. And then you are running, into the forest, aimless, with tears streaming down your cheeks.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾ Seven: Healing, Again ☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

The bitter, earthy scent of herbal infusions fills the temporarily transformed gisaeng house where you are working. Several of the women are already well versed in medical care, and all are ready to help. The house sits in the center of N city, near the market, an area easy to access and luckily, untouched by fire and the following destruction.

Days feel like weeks and weeks feel like days with the new routine you suddenly find yourself in. Early morning rounds with cool compress cloths to treat the ones with burns, gathering the berries and calendula flowers before the sun got too hot, brewing teas in the afternoon, a hurried supper so you can continue your work before it got too dark.

The time is long, but the moon has grown from waning crescent to waxing gibbous again before you know it, with the many people that come and go after receiving the care they need. The citizens are healing, gaining strength to rebuild again.

It’s late one evening when you see from the corner of your eye, an unmistakable design on a visitor entering. Midnight black, silky fabric with the emblem of a dragon. The ladle in your hand clatters to the floor and you pull up your skirts to run to the entrance.

As you get closer, yes, it’s the gold embroidery, yes, it’s the palace uniform. But he’s taller in stature. He’s not the one you’re looking for. Your steps come to a slow stop. Jaehyun recognizes you immediately and is equally quick to spare you of the suspense.

“We haven’t seen him yet.”

When your knees give out, he holds onto you and lets your tears soak his clothing.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It is a bizarre sight to see the crown prince enter town, not supported on a fancy palanquin but on the arms of Doyoung and Jeno, all in commoners’ clothing. You’re on the side of the street when you spot them, and you freeze in place before remembering to bow deeply. Jeno motions you to straighten. There’s no need to reveal identities, he whispers into your ear. Nodding with understanding, you help them to the house and find the nearest available space for Prince Na.

Word had spread that a powerful shaman was practicing in the center of town, but Doyoung had an idea of who that might be. He shares this with you with the slightest of gummy smiles. It took them a tumultuous journey to hide and travel safely, and it would take too much time to tell the tale. The prince’s health needs more immediate help first. You’re grateful the lost prince is alive, if not well, but the questions snowball in your mind, a thousand desperate thoughts begging to be answered. How did they escape? Did he survive too? But Doyoung explains the prince’s condition, symptoms, and what they’ve tried so far, and you need to pay utmost attention. Jaemin must have inhaled a large amount of smoke. His breathing is weak. He’s unable to speak. You fetch a jar of honey water to help with calming his cough and think of a few things that may reduce the swelling that must be inside his chest.

You learn from Jeno that the One Two Seven Squad is regathering. Though he doesn’t share many details, you read between the lines that what had happened was an unsuccessful coup. You hull soybeans while you talk, using low voices to avoid bothering the patients in your care, the water sloshing and providing cover for the classified information. Prince Na is asleep now, but Jeno’s gaze is fixed on him as he speaks.

Though the city is safe for now, he and the others are still on high alert. They would keep Prince Na hidden until they strategize their next move. You remember that Jeno used to train with Mark when they were younger, so you finally gather your courage to ask whether he heard any news, heart thumping hard.

“Ah, Mark… We parted ways just a few days ago.” Jeno’s voice always holds the most even, balanced tone. You can’t decipher what that meant.

“Parted ways?”

“Yes, he said he had somewhere he needed to visit.” You breathe out the breath that you had been holding, relief washing over you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If he could put it simply, you are a vision. Mark made his way back to the city in sorrow and disappointment, to where he knew his colleagues would bring the prince, not knowing it would lead to you. He had thought he lost you, just as you had thought you’d lost him.

Your back is to him, but he could identify your shadow anywhere. You have one palm against your forehead and the other on a child’s, checking her temperature. They call it your healing touch, your intuition, your experience, or your willingness to try, but for Mark, he knows it’s all your heart. He regrets ever doubting your intentions. He thought he was serving the kingdom, but all along, you… you were truly serving its people.

Mark waits until you’ve finished your work for the night, not unlike many nights before, in a different setting that feels so long ago with the events that had transpired. He knows you’ve found your place at last. One without rigid roles and gates to keep you back. He only hopes that he can be by your side again.

After whispering instructions to the nurse taking the next shift, you wrap your arms around yourself and rub them up and down for some warmth. You’re about to start on a brisk night time walk outdoors to clear your thoughts when he leaps from the rooftop and into your line of sight.

You think you may be delirious. But you amble towards the figure of Mark anyways until you’re standing right in front of him. You open your mouth to say the first thing on your mind, a heartbroken “I’m so sorry” on the tip of your tongue, but Mark doesn’t let you finish your sentence. He throws an arm around you. And when you circle your arms around him tightly and lean into him too, he kisses you full on the lips. You relish in the feeling: passionate, bold, connected once more. You open up and let him in. Then gently, he draws back to kiss your eyelashes, wet with tears, only stopping to murmur, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long to return to you.”

You move to press closer into his embrace but look down to find his left arm in the way, poorly wrapped and held against his chest. He is the definition of a hero and a protector, and you want nothing more than to be his healing balm from now on. “Oh, Mark… I’ll make it better. I promise I’ll make it better.”

“You will. I know you will.”

You have many questions and Mark answers as you walk together, the moon shining brightly above.

“Where’d you go these last few days?”

“To the lake. To your home. I didn’t know where to find you.” You look up at Mark in wonder, and he pulls you closer with the arm around your waist.

“The roads have been restored?”

“Partly.”

“How… how are they?”

“Your parents and the villagers are safe. They… we… I thought you were gone.” It’s your turn to give him a squeeze. “We can send them a letter first thing tomorrow morning to let them know you are well too.”

“How’d you get hurt?” You start to inspect him, touching his shoulder gingerly and feeling the muscle in his upper arm.

He turns sheepish and glances away. “I actually tripped and fell on my arm when saying bye to your parents. It was very embarrassing. Please don’t tell anyone!”

You stop in your tracks and shake your head in laughter, glad it wasn’t too serious after all. Then you are pulling on his shirt collar so he knows what you want. “At least it wasn’t your writing arm, I guess.”

He’s glad too. And he knows there will be many stories to write about, with you. Mark leans in to close the distance again. Because sometimes, often-times, kisses are even better than words, and kisses heal even better than medicine at midnight.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾ the end ☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

Thank you for reading! Hope your heart is full of love and wonder, and that you may dream a little past what you believe is possible.

Writing references: Joseon female physicians uinyeo | historical drama/sageuk vocab | korean herbs 1 & 2

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #neocity cafe adding things to the menu after literal years hehe #one very big mug of soothing honey ginger tea here for the chilly weather~

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ancuninfiles · 4 months

Text

Comfort pt. 5

Screenshot by @lavendarr00

6.7k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Named Tav (Nym) - 18+

Summary: Nym's forced time away from her homeland - The High Forest - teaches her many truths within mere days; truths that she likely would have otherwise never come to know.

Tags: smut, fluff, angst, p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming (if you squint), vampire bites, needy/desperate astarion, past refrence to trauma (or something), hurt/comfort, OC is autism-coded

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 (Recommended)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

Nym woke up in Astarion’s tent, feeling anxious and groggy from the blood loss. She stretched her arms into the air, releasing a deep, eye-watering yawn.

Beside her, Astarion lay with his eyes closed. Nym sensed she might have disturbed his trance, but assumed he needed to get more rest and was still attempting to do just that.

She scratched the nape of her neck, trying to brush her tangled hair with her fingers, a result of days without proper care.

With a slight grimace, she crawled gingerly towards her overstuffed pack, determined to locate the simple wooden comb procured just the day prior.

In the depths of her bag laid a jumbled assortment of yesterday's acquisitions, among them a fresh ensemble of lightweight leather armour for Nym. Comprised of a supple suede top, a flowing poncho, and loose-fitting trousers, the new attire promised both comfort and improved mobility for battle.

Nym’s stomach fluttered with anticipation as she envisioned herself adorned in the new garments, feeling the enhanced freedom of movement they would afford her in combat.

After rummaging through the contents of her bag and extracting her daily attire, Nym resumed her search for the elusive comb. Once retrieved, she swiftly donned her clothing, mindful this time to dress before exiting the tent, determined not to repeat the awkward encounter of revealing herself to her companions without their express consent.

She was striving to fit in and adjust to the new environment, and despite the discomfort of being away from her usual surroundings, Nym found herself cherishing this time outside the High Forest.

While she was living in the High Forest, she had been utterly ignored by most for her entire life; in contrast, here she was chosen to be a leader. The prospect still confused her, but she was becoming more accustomed to it with each day.

Maybe I'll stumble upon a book on leadership during our downtime, she mused.

Nym gagged as a wave of nausea hit her; she knew that she had to use the amulet, lest she would feel sickly all day.

With a whispered incantation, a blue light enveloped Nym, accompanied by the faint sound of wind chimes. As the magic took hold the light and sounds faded, leaving her feeling as refreshed as after a restful night's sleep.

Rising ungracefully, Nym emerged from Astarion’s tent to discover Gale already tending to the fire, diligently engaged with the cookpot.

A surge of apprehension swept over her; the prospect of establishing boundaries with Gale filled her with unease. Her gut instinct told her to simply brush aside the issue and feign normalcy - though that desire warred with a more practical one: facing the uncomfortable topic directly in the spirit of open communication.

Contemplating her options, Nym weighed the possibility of confronting him head-on the next time he made advances, opting to let him be the one to broach the topic first; but, the thought of his potential reaction to her rejection twisted her stomach into knots. What if he dislikes me afterward? Or worse, what if he gets angry?

Nym shuddered, attempting to banish the unsettling notion. As murky memories from her time in the High Forest resurfaced, her breath caught in her throat and her muscles tensed. Recognizing the need to divert her attention, she resolved to find a distraction.

In regards to Gale, Nym acknowledged her limited understanding of him thus far. There remained a chance that he might view her rejection as an opportunity for personal growth, or some such realization. I'll deal with that when the time comes, she concluded, hoping fervently to avoid that conversation altogether. But she had a feeling that crossing that bridge would likely be inevitable.

"Good morning!" Gale called cheerfully, snapping Nym out of her spiralling thoughts. "Fancy some eggs?"

Nym realized she had been standing tensed up, staring at Gale's back for far too long. She was grateful to be pulled into the moment by his seemingly kind voice and demeanour.

Her voice cracked as she squeaked, “Yes, please!”

Barefooted, she waltzed to the logs by the fire with her comb, socks, and boots in hand, sitting adjacent to Gale, shimmying her socks and footwear on.

Gale cracked two eggs in the pan and started scrambling, causing Nym to grimace; she loved eggs, but couldn’t tolerate the texture of scrambled eggs - even the thought of the sponginess touching her hard palate made her feel nauseous once more.

Gale, ever observant, couldn't help but notice Nym's fidgeting as her gaze lingered on his scrambled eggs. "Not a fan of scrambled eggs, I gather?" he inquired, casting a thoughtful glance towards her, squinting against the sun's glare as he tended to his culinary creation. "No worries, my friend. These are for me, then. My apologies for not checking with you first."

Nym breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a wave of comfort wash over her. "I hope I'm not causing too much trouble," she murmured apologetically, averting her gaze.

"Not at all," Gale reassured her, his tone lightening. "I feel rather at home while tinkering with food over a flame. It's a bit of a relaxation ritual, one might say." With a flourish, he transferred the scrambled eggs onto a metal plate, seasoning them with herbs foraged from the surrounding woodlands and a pinch of salt. "And how do you take your eggs?"

At that moment, Nym found herself pleasantly surprised by Gale's genuine kindness. Despite their minimal interaction since the crash, save for a brief encounter on the beach and her lingering appreciation for the book-like scent that seemed to emanate from him, his considerate gesture touched her, and eased her previous worries.

Gale is safe, Nym thought, like a mantra in her mind. I am safe.

Nym smiled and exhaled before pursing her lips to the side in thought. “Would it be too much to ask for boiled eggs?”

“Not at all! Actually, I have a kettle of water that I had boiled for tea earlier, it will make the job quicker, you see.” Gale began organizing an iron pot over the fire, and pouring the hot water into it, followed by two eggs.

Nym had always thought Gale was handsome, but this act of service made her blush shamefully. It made her want to cover her face and scream, the way he went out of his way to make sure that she would eat. Gods - was Gale going to put a wrench in her plan?

She felt some strange obligation, as if she was meant to be already devoted to Astarion - for Nym was nothing if not a woman of her word. She responded to the odd pang of guilt by methodically dispelling the physical sensation - the unwanted thoughts dissipating as she shook them away, starting from her arms, through her hands, and finally to the very tips of her fingers.

If Gale noticed her shiver, he didn’t say anything.

Nym took a deep breath and finally began to comb her hair, careful not to rip or tug at her sensitive scalp. Her hair was coarse and black, with undertones of copper that only revealed themselves in the sunlight.

As Nym worked through her knots, her attention snapped to Astarion as he leisurely emerged from his tent, adorned in his freshly acquired leather armour. His physique still struck her, his broad chest, narrow hips, and sharp jawline a picture of perfection in her eyes.

Nym shot her head away from the pale elf and closed her eyes tightly, continuing to work away at her locs. Fuck, she thought. It wasn’t fair that her mind kept going there. She wanted both of them, and she felt like she was going mad at the thought of it.

Yet, the memory of Astarion's distress, his tears, weighed heavily on her conscience. Caught between conflicting emotions, she felt trapped, uncertain of how to handle her overwhelming desires - or whether she should even address them at all.

Suddenly, a soft thud on the log beside her interrupted her thoughts.

“Hello, my sweet.”

Again with the pet names, Nym noted inwardly, feeling the familiar tug at her heartstrings. This man seemed to possess an uncanny ability to stir something within her, yet she remained resolute in not letting it show. With practiced ease, she slipped on her figurative mask as she finished combing her hair, causing it to poof out around her.

"Oh, hello Starry," she greeted, though her smile failed to reach her eyes.

Astarion cocked his head, regarding her with a quizzical expression.

Shit - he knows.

However, Astarion didn’t press further, and instead, he handed her a book - one of the books that she had nicked from the Dank Crypt: Wood Elves of the High Forest.

“I thought we could do a bit of reading, keep our minds occupied.” Astarion smiled roguishly while Nym took the book from him.

“How does a braid sound, Nym?” Shouted Shadowheart from across the camp, making her way towards their cohort.

Nym turned her head to Shadowheart. “Oh, hi! Good morning Shadowheart,” Nym beamed.

Nym entertained the idea of having a braid, imagining the pleasant feeling of keeping her hair from touching her dewy back amidst the sweltering heat. “Please - if you don’t mind,” she responded, nodding graciously with a smile.

Nym felt it odd to be pampered so, and she made a mental note to find a way to return the favour.

As Shadowheart positioned herself behind Nym, Nym passed her the comb, and Shadowheart retrieved a few hair ties from her pocket.

Nym opened her book, casually leafing through the pages and landing on a page about a quarter-ways through. While the Cleric uncomfortably tugged at her hair, she brought the open pages closer to Astarion.

She traced her fingers beneath the text, silently inviting Astarion to follow along.

“The wood elves, also known as Or-tel-quessir, descend from moon elves, wild elves, and sun elves who preferred woodland sanctuaries after the turmoil caused by the Crown War.”

“Wood elves are level-headed creatures, and arousing strong emotions from them would prove difficult.”

“Yeah, all except for me apparently,” Nym chuckled awkwardly.

“Wood elves often exuded an air of aloofness in contrast to their Tel-quessir brethren, their rugged demeanour detracting from their charisma.”

“Wood elves, being culturally polyamorous, would find much friction in romantic relationships with High elves who have a reputation of being strictly monogamous. Many hypothesize that said relationships are destined for dissolution, leading to a scarcity of offspring between the two races.”

Nym pondered, her lips pursed in contemplation, the final paragraph stirring discomfort within her. A quick glance at Astarion revealed his furrowed brows, a subtle unease washing over her as she noticed his clear perturbation.

Halfway done with her braid, Shadowheart tilted Nym’s head to the side. “What’s this?” Asked the cleric, concern coating her tone.

Nym’s eyes widened wildly and she slapped a hand to her neck, remembering the scabby bite marks that she unfortunately forgot to treat with a healing potion before leaving Astarion’s tent this morning.

“Nothing,” said Nym. Her body tensed rigidly, breath catching in a sudden stillness.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would guess that you’d been bitten by a vampire with those two suspiciously placed puncture wounds right atop your jugular vein,” Shadowheart pressed.

Nym’s face began to turn red from the lack of oxygen, her eyes fixated on a pebble near the fire and her lips tightened into a thin line.

There was no chance she'd break Astarion's trust by spilling the beans on his condition - even if that meant taking a vow of silence.

“He's a bloody vampire!” shouted Gale from across the fire, causing Nym’s eyes to snap up and scan the wizard who now stood staring daggers at Astarion.

“Vampire spawn, to be more accurate,” Astarion clarified, standing to match Gale’s fierce demeanour. Astarion quickly collected himself, sighing and opening his posture. “Look - I’m not going to hurt any of you, I swear.”

Nym’s vision was quickly becoming spotty with black and purple, and the last thing she heard before collapsing backwards and falling unconscious was a murmuring from Gale that was distorted by the ringing in her ears.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

“It’s probably the blood loss,” Gale protested.

“Gale, would you relax? You’re only going to distress her more; besides, her blood levels are completely normal.” Shadowheart held Nym’s head that had fallen back into her lap, her eyes slowly blinking back into lucidity.

“I second that notion - I too would appreciate the wizard’s silence,” Astarion said, kneeling next to Nym and placing a cool and soothing hand on her forehead.

As Nym stirred awake, her head lolled back, a warm smile gracing her lips as she locked eyes with Astarion, who leaned in with concern. She found herself nestled in Shadowheart's lap, the worry in their eyes melting into reassurance at her awakening.

Astarion brought his hand to her cheek, caressing it affectionately and stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Your dynamism definitely keeps things interesting, darling."

Nym felt slightly embarrassed in her current predicament, and she wasn’t sure whether or not she was permitted to speak on Astarion’s affliction yet.

“Astarion - I,” Nym started. “May I?”

She hoped that Astarion could infer what she was trying to communicate with the few words she spoke and the pleading look in her eyes.

Astarion nodded at Nym. “I’ve already told them, so share what you wish - though I do thoroughly appreciate your burgeoning loyalty. It does wonders for my ego,” he said, smirking waggishly, still holding Nym’s cheek.

Nym gave a brisk nod and straightened up on the log, heels pressing into the earth as she rested her forearms on her knees. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to address their group, her half-complete updo falling slightly as she lowered her head.

She adjusted her posture, bringing her knees together in the hope that a more proper posture might inspire her teammates to take her more seriously.

“Astarion is a vampire spawn, but he won’t hurt us,” Nym assured them. “He and I - well - we have an agreement.”

“How long have you known, Nym?” Asked Shadowheart.

“Since the first night. . .”

“And you didn’t think this was pertinent information to share with the rest of us?” Shadowheart prodded, her face screwed up.

Nym turned to see Shadowheart better, who sat on her knees behind her.

“Well - no,” she scoffed. “He’s very well-mannered - and well-fed.”

She pointed her nose to the sky snobbishly.

“Clearly,” Shadowheart remarked, shooting a piercing glare at Astarion.

Nym clenched her jaw tightly, remembering how guilty Astarion had initially felt about their little arrangement.

He coughed a nervous laugh, saying, “Look - I'm here in the spirit of openness and honesty.”

But Nym knew - despite the invisible wall he'd suddenly put up - that Astarion felt he was a burden; and she wouldn't stand for anyone guilting him for something he couldn't control.

Nym grunted, balling her white-knuckled fists. “Erg - you’d all better stop fighting about this. I told you, he won’t hurt us. I’m sure if he wanted to, he would’ve by now.”

A smirk danced upon Astarion's lips at Nym's defence.

“Shadowheart,” Nym began, rising to confront the cleric, “you said it yourself; my blood levels are normal. What’s the issue with a couple of minuscule - and consensually inflicted wounds? Forgive me, but I’m failing to see the issue here.”

A moment of silence enveloped the group until Gale interjected. "She speaks the truth."

"What?" Shadowheart exclaimed, her confusion evident.

“We all have our burdens, one way or another,” Gale explained calmly.

A sardonic chuckle escaped Astarion. "And here I thought the wizard lacked insight. Well then - I stand corrected." He reclined, resting on his hands.

Nym looked over to Gale appreciatively, quietly huffing. She really thought Gale might’ve had it out for Astarion after the whole incident at the beach, but she was delightfully taken aback once again by his courtesy today and it caught her off guard.

In a way, Astarion’s snarky remark described precisely what she was thinking, too.

“Fine. As long as he keeps his fangs away from my neck, I suppose I can accept him,” Shadowheart stated, her scowl turning into a cheeky grin. “Besides, we need each other, and having a vampire spawn on our side doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Relief flooded Nym. Now that Astarion's secret was out in the open, he could use all of his weapons in battle, filling his belly even more.

Many things about Astarion pointed toward a tortured past; from figuring out that he had never been full before, to the way his walls came up seemingly automatically at times, and even the distant look that periodically painted his face during their most recent coupling.

Nym yearned to understand him more intimately. Though she had few friends in the High Forest, she was well-acquainted with its cats; Astarion reminded her of a feral one. With feral cats, you begin by tossing them fish from a distance, gradually earning their trust until, one day, they begrudgingly accept the fish from your hand, convinced that it poses no threat.

Furthermore, if you were lucky enough, the cat might even come into your home and never want to leave once having a taste of true safety - away from the threat of potential predators.

Nevertheless, Nym was excited to watch Astarion fight whilst making use of his fangs and sanguine appetite.

She pondered what to say next, deciding on how a good leader might respond to all this. Perhaps something to boost morale. “You are all - very - er - good boys . . . and girl,” Nym stated clumsily.

The group fell into awkward silence, all eyes on Nym, who grinned nervously.

“Aha,” Astarion was the first to break the silence with high-pitched laughter.

“Nymsy, my dear - I can’t tell if you broke the tension or made it worse - either way, we’d ought to set out for the day now that that’s sorted,” he said, standing to wipe the dirt from his hands with a handkerchief pulled from his pocket.

What? Was that an insult or simply a jest?

Nym didn’t respond as Astarion stood up and adjusted his weapons and Gale handed her a plate with two peeled and salted boiled eggs.

“You are also quite the good girl,” Gale uttered happily, his features relaxed, eyes searching for Nym’s.

Nym’s face flushed as she grabbed the plate, releasing a small “Thanks,” as her eyes trailed up to meet his.

Shadowheart scoffed. “Would you two get a room,” she complained, continuing her work on Nym’s braid.

A quiet thud could be heard coming from the treeline behind her, causing her to flinch and spin her head around.

It was Astarion, who had thrown one of his daggers at a tree and was about to throw another.

Is he mad? Was it something I did?

Nym realized that she had to eat her breakfast before she started feeling sick, assuming that she may have been the cause for Astarion’s negative shift in mood.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The cloudy day dragged on, and Nym would’ve been lying if she hadn’t admitted to herself that she’d been periodically choked up throughout it. At times, she’d found it difficult to focus on the tasks at hand, including during a battle with two tieflings who had captured their gith friend.

One of the tieflings had smashed the pommel of their blade into the side of Nym’s forehead, causing her to bleed and lose her balance. Her blood dripped rapidly into her eye, filling her sclera with a red fog and muddying her vision.

Astarion swiftly stabbed through the tiefling’s throat before proceeding to raise his voice at Nym. “Get up, damn you!” He yelled while Gale took care of the other tiefling.

She hadn’t even realized that she had fallen to her hands and knees until Shadowheart was above her healing her.

She felt utterly useless - yet, as she stood at the helm of her motley crew, she couldn't shake the lingering doubt that gnawed at her core like a relentless predator.

What could she possibly offer that they couldn't procure with greater finesse? In the symphony of her insecurities, the discordant notes of self-doubt played on, a haunting melody that echoed through the corridors of her mind.

I’ll never be good enough -

“It seems she’s had quite enough,” Gale interjected, rescuing her from the abyss of negativity once more.

“Tchk - if this leader can’t even face two tieflings, how do we expect her to help us in any other manner?” Lae'zel's words cut through the air, sharp and direct.

"Hah! Spare me," Astarion scoffed, "The one who ended up caught and caged by those tieflings has the gall to lecture us about leadership, while our own leader risks life and limb to save your ungrateful hide."

So he’s not mad at me? Then what’s going on with him? Nym wondered.

"One should refrain from casting stones while dwelling in glass abodes, as the saying goes," Gale quipped seriously.

Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “This is why I suggested that we leave the gith to her fate,” she stated, still kneeling beside Nym.

Nym couldn’t fathom why Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart were all on her side in this issue, especially after she’d shamefully fallen in battle.

“She’s right, in part. You all deserve better,” Nym conceded, her voice trembling slightly with emotion. “I will try to do better, in future. I’m sorry.”

Though her voice wavered, she knew acknowledging her shortcomings might help diffuse the tension and ease the harshness directed towards Lae'zel, whose prowess in battle aboard the nautiloid hinted at her potential in future conflicts.

She also hoped that her statement didn’t come off as too self-loathing, because she knew that too, would be burdensome.

Thankfully, her speech quelled the impending conflict for the time being, and Lae'zel made way to camp as the rest of their group continued to the grove once again in search of answers to their tadpole problem.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The clouds had cleared by the time they reached the grove. This time, they made note to speak to every vendor before continuing on.

Astarion managed to steal quite a few arrows, and other items that were more easily accessible to take while Nym distracted the sellers by making conversation and purchasing the items that were too risky to nick.

She was able to acquire three more scrolls of Lesser Restoration for her “project” with Astarion through the vendors.

Nym knew that she should gather a couple more scrolls, just to be safe. She tried to hide the scrolls in her pack before Shadowheart or Gale were to notice; the fewer questions asked the better.

One of the vendors, Ethel, stood out among the crowd, an elderly woman with a weathered visage. Without much consideration, Nym divulged everything about their parasitic affliction, much to Astarion's evident amusement.

However, the reaction from the rest of the group was less jovial, their disapproval clear.

“I suppose we didn’t learn our lesson the first time around? Shadoheart interjected with a tight-lipped expression.

“To give grace, Nettie was trying to kill Nym,” Gale interjected dismissively. "But we must exercise more caution about our condition - something was. . . unsettling about that woman."

“She seemed positively demented, I’m just curious to see how this unfolds,” said Astarion with a cheeky grin.

“You’re something of a free spirit, I think, Astarion,” said Nym, nodding curtly and heading toward their next destination.

Astarion fastened his pack and walked behind her as the rest of the group followed suit. “It takes one to know one, darling,” he said, catching up with her and flashing a wink in her direction.

Nym stifled a giggle, acknowledging the camaraderie they shared.

Except for moments when he was upset with me, Nym thought, still reflecting on her day critically.

Nonetheless, in the event of a confrontation, the four of them could easily manage an encounter with a single elderly woman - of that much, Nym was sure.

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The horizon had all but snuffed the sun’s light, and Nym was elated to have found a total of five scrolls of Lesser Restoration during today’s journey.

She and Astarion sat across from one another in his tent, as Nym excitedly organized all five scrolls between them.

“There,” she said, hovering her hands over the scrolls. “Five will be enough I think.”

Astarion’s eyes and mouth fell wide open, his words seemingly caught in his throat. “You’re - serious about this?”

“Yup! I believe that the results of this experiment will become fundamental knowledge for you, and possibly other spawn, depending on where our lives take us.” Nym paused. “I mean - where your life takes you.”

Astarion’s expression rapidly morphed into a composed, devilish grin. Crawling towards Nym, he positioned his lips near her ear and snaked his hand up and under the back of her shirt, splaying his fingers possessively. “This is quite the gift - darling,” he murmured, his voice resonating at a low timbre that sent a chill down Nym’s spine and his breath tickling her lobe.

Astarion nipped at her ear, coaxing quiet moans from her throat as she began to melt in his gentle grasp.

Astarion sat back on his knees, the sudden loss of contact making Nym droop, unbidden. As usual, even the slightest physical affection caused her eyes to become heavy with desire.

Astarion neatly placed the scrolls off to the side of their bedrolls. “You’re sure you want this,” asked Astarion, offering her one last chance to withdraw.

“Huh?” Nym replied, snapping out of her reverie. Nym then scrunched her eyes shut and nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! For the pursuit of knowledge.”

She beamed. “Er - and if you want to use all of my body while drinking from me, I am - of course - impartial.” She gazed away, avoiding eye contact as a warm blush crept up on her cheeks.

“Just impartial?” Astarion cooed, wrapping his hand around the back of Nym’s head and gently lowering her onto the bedroll. His eyes roamed over her face, finally settling on her lips with a composed precision that seemed almost too controlled, as if savouring the moment with deliberate care.

Astarion crashed his lips into hers fervently, seeking entrance with his tongue and eliciting whines from Nym.

Nym reciprocated, closing her eyes and letting Astarion take control of her mouth as he climbed between her legs, gripping her waist.

He continued to massage her exposed waistline tenderly while placing chaste kisses in a line from her cheek, to her jaw, and then her throat where he would begin to suck her tender flesh into his lips without drawing blood.

Nym felt him holding back, reminding her why she felt so incredibly safe around him. She didn’t want to impose her desires, but her knees came up and her hips tilted upwards, unbidden.

Astarion groaned into her neck, his mouth disconnecting with a pop as his hips rocked into her warm core. His hand journeyed south, teasing just beneath the waistline of her pants.

“You seem more than impartial,” Astarion groaned with a sweat forming on his brow, becoming breathless.

It was true that Nym desired more, and she knew that if his hand were to travel any lower, he would find her weeping quim as evidence of that.

However, Nym felt Astarion’s hardness as he rutted against her, and she could tell how painfully tight his strays must be.

She witnessed the desperation of the handsome elf lying between her legs, noticing how he carefully avoided letting his hands wander too far. It intrigued her that a vampire spawn of two hundred years - finally free in a myriad of ways; to bask in the sun, darken doorways unbidden, and bed whomever he wished - displayed such restraint when it came to intimacy, seemingly valuing her word a great deal; or at least a great deal more than most of her previous partners who would’ve surely plunged their fingers into her nethers - and elsewhere - by now.

“Just admit it, my dear. You wish to feel me inside you - don’t you?” Astarion whispered, nearly moaning the last words as his fingers softly nudged below her belly and his hair grazed the side of her face.

The idea of retorting with “But you want me, too,” crossed her mind, but she was unsure how those words would sit with him.

Opting to protect his pride, Nym gave in with a “Yes,” and a, “please - I want you.”

Astarion took to her response by swiftly pulling his shirt over his head, before closing in on Nym’s lips with a hasty smooch.

He stood to remove his pants and his length sprang free, its tip glistening with seed already.

In the meanwhile, Nym removed her loose top and baggy pants with a flourish, readying herself for what she knew was to come.

“How do you want me?” Nym asked considerately, coming up on her elbows.

Astarion loomed over her and gestured his hand over her body. “You’re perfect right there, my love. I want to see that pretty face of yours when I. . .” He paused, breathing deeply, “unravel you.”

He descended on Nym, kissing her all over and inserting two digits into her entrance, palming her clit with practiced ease. Astarion made a satisfied sound when he felt how wet Nym was, and Nym gritted her teeth to try and stifle her cries while he brought his teeth to her breast, taking her mound into his maw.

He ran his tongue along her pebble and curved his fingers into her hole, pumping languidly. His teeth punctured the flesh on her breast and he began to suck vehemently, his voracious sounds sending vibrations through her body.

Just as she began to quiver around him, he lifted from her bosom, watching as her jaw slackened. He stroked her inner walls, prioritizing the tight circles he was creating with his palm on her nub.

He looked at her with an intense crimson gaze, his usually tamed hair clinging to his forehead. Astarion’s mouth was stained with her ichor, making him appear feral and wild - two things she typically thought him to be the antithesis of.

Nym was panting, completely lost in his touch and trembling wantonly.

Amidst the haze, she reached for his face and cupped his cheek in a lover's gesture. When her palm made contact with his face, his expression relaxed and he placed a sweet kiss on her wrist.

His hand sped up, coaxing more cries from Nym. Her orgasm crested and Astarion adorned a satisfied smile, watching Nym’s hand fall limply to her side.

Nym lay panting and twitching transiently while Astarion removed his fingers only to insert them into his mouth. His eyelashes fluttered closed as he cleaned his digits, humming around them.

He freed his mouth of his hand, a string of saliva connecting them for a moment. “Delicious,” he purred.

“The night has only just begun - and I have other means of making you come undone,” Astarion cooed, leaning into Nym’s ear once again. “And other things I’d like to make you cum on - if that’s quite alright with you.” His voice bore a deep husky tone that nearly made Nym faint once more.

Unusual for Nym during intimacy, she found herself unable to speak. She could all but ogle pleading eyes up at Astarion, his chest muscles rippling with each adjustment under the candlelight.

Astarion positioned himself between Nym’s thighs, kissing her face all over and thrusting teasingly between her folds, an affection that made Nym’s heart flutter. She had so many sexual partners in the past; she had slept with some women, and almost every man her age in her village, many partners of hers falling between or outside the binary of “man” or “woman”. Despite having been made to cum by so many peers, and even having been cleaned up for after trysts, never had she felt this continuous connection and admiration from someone that she shared a bed with.

It felt right - which in turn made something within her scream and tear away at her walls of self. She felt an immediate urge to snuff the screaming, to smother it into silence; but as Astarion thrust inside her at last, the proverbial screaming increased to a fever pitch.

Astarion pulled his face from Nym, who had started sobbing with a trembling lower lip. He immediately stilled. Panicked, his eyes were round and his brows canted up. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone low and serious.

Nym brought her forearms to cover her eyes and swipe the tears away. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she had to ruin this moment with Astarion because her brain concluded the ludicrous notion that she’d only been a warm body to everyone.

They liked me,

They finally liked me . . .

They wanted me around.

But no matter how many times Nym tried to reaffirm her counterfeit beliefs, the truth was ripping and tearing a gaping hole into her fermented soul.

Before she could think better of it, the words slipped from her lips, “Do you like me?”

She trembled, removing her arms from her tear-riddled eyes.

Astarion looked upon Nym, his lips parted and his hardness still seated deep within her. “I - yes, Nym.”

“But am I . . . more than just a warm body for you?” Nym asked. She felt she already knew the answer if she were being honest with herself, but she just wanted to hear it come from him.

Astarion paused for a moment, blinking at her in stunned silence. His face changed into something pained before he settled himself on his elbows, his face mere centimetres from Nyms.

“So much more,” he stated firmly.

“Are we . . . friends?” Nym said in a whisper, her wet brown eyes boring into Astarion’s crimson stare.

“At the least,” was the last thing Astarion said before diving for her mouth in a possessive kiss.

Nym’s lips matched his with passion, unlike any other time they had kissed before. She brought her arms around his back and pulled him close to her. Nym felt ridged scar-like bumps on his back with her fingers, and she massaged his skin delicately.

She pulled away from the kiss to breathe, as her nose was slightly stuffy from crying.

Astarion gazed at her adoringly while she caught her breath and then pulled her up onto him as he sat back on his heels, her knees resting on either side of him as he held her body close, still filled with his length.

The shifting in positions stirred Astarion within her slightly, causing her to clench around him, her breath picking up pace as she became accustomed to her new placement upon his lap.

His arms wrapped under hers, holding her close. Simultaneously, she encapsulated him, softly tracing along the scars on his back with her fingertips.

“Do you wish to stop?” asked Astarion.

Nym’s lower lip came out in a pout. She didn’t want to stop, she just wanted to feel better - to know that the person she was making love to wanted her for more than -

. . .

Her mind turned to fog, her memories swirling away like a colourful chemical oil spill in mud as she lolled her head forward, inhaling the scent of bergamot and rosemary.

“It won’t change anything between us, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Astarion reassured.

Nym felt oddly calm, aware of what she had just experienced yet unable to fully grasp her peculiar recollections and fragmented emotions.

“No - I want you, “ Nym pleaded, “don’t stop.”

She couldn’t entirely fathom it, but somehow she felt seen by him; almost as if he understood her paroxysm just now on a deeper or more personal level.

Ultimately, Nym wanted to feel better, and in that moment the way Astarion’s body connected with hers simply felt right.

It seemed he needed no further reassurance, as his hands trailed down to Nym’s bottom, lifting her before dropping her back down on his length prudently.

Nym carded her fingers through his curls while she began moving in rhythm with Astarion, his shaft reaching into her deeply.

She exhaled a breathy sigh, holding onto his shoulders for balance while she rode him, the subtle and typically imperceptible stubble on his face grazing her on the skin near her collarbone.

His breath came ragged before he fell back, calculatedly pulling Nym with him.

Nym searched for his lips and she pressed them with hers firmly while he brushed his fingers in her hair and then guided her head to the side, disconnecting their lips and exposing her neck to him.

The way his fangs grazed her throat made her shiver, all while Astarion’s pace slowed with one hand in her hair and the other grasping her hip.

His teeth punctured her tender flesh, and his arm that wasn’t in her hair hooked around both of her upper limbs as well as the small of her back, fastening her to him.

Once he was fully latched onto her, she could feel him sucking and groaning into her neck, his sighs vibrating his entire chest and reverberating through Nym.

Astarion held her taut, using his position to piston into her with great abandon while taking long sips of her lifeblood.

The initial pain of his bite always faded quickly, turning into something pleasant within just a few seconds. Nym felt Astarion grow harder and larger as he drank from her; this always happened when he supped while they were intimate. Not only that; his flesh grew tepid, and sometimes even warm against her.

How his already large member grew even larger inside her made the pleasure nigh unbearable, as she could feel his cock making contact with every inch of her walls come every thrust.

She was so close again, and as if he could taste it, he removed his fingers from her hair and snuck them to her clit, halting his gulps while he expertly readjusted but not unsheathing his fangs.

A few strokes of her bud sent her crashing into her second orgasm and milking Astarion with her core.

Astarion seemed to follow her thereafter as he removed his hand from her pearl and bottomed out, fully thrusting into Nym and holding her tightly against his hard ivory chest.

Breathless, Nym could feel herself being filled with his seed, the affection in his grasp and the blood loss causing her to feel weak.

With a grumble, Astarion replaced his possessive latch with the warm and soothing flat of his tongue, followed by his lips which kissed her tenderly.

Nym, recalling their plans for their experiment, perked up with the little energy she had left, “Why did you stop drinking - what about our experiment?”

Astarion sighed, his head falling back to the bedroll. He looked somewhat frenzied with blood coating his chin. He thrust into her once more, a sigh catching in his throat. “Not tonight.” He massaged her scalp and loosened his grip on her torso. “Just - stay with me, tonight.”

Nym’s heart skipped a beat at his words, and she wondered if he heard it; she hoped he did. Nym knew not if Astarion desired to put off their experiment and have a simple night for his own sake or for Nym’s. Perhaps it was for both of them, but it was a gesture that she didn’t expect and it made her stomach flutter with delight.

This time, the aftercare felt tired, and something about it felt more genuine. When they rested, they held one another closer than ever before, as if keeping something big and scary from taking one another away.

Nym caressed the large protruding scars on his back, and only hoped that someday he would feel comfortable enough to talk about them. Until then, she would simply hold space, just as he’d done for her tonight - a gesture she was wholly grateful for.

Chapter 6>>

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

The plot thickens o_o

and apparently so does Astarion

I hope you are all enjoying my nerdy lore dump, I honestly have been loving doing research and getting to share my findings with you in such a fun and engaging way! <3 love you!

Illustration of Nym by me:

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x original female character #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion fluff #astarion hurt/comfort #comfort chapter 5 #astarion x original f! character #astarion x f!oc #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion fanfiction

71 notes · View notes

katsigian · 7 months

Text

── ⁺⭒*˖ ☽ ˖ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝘼𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 ˖ ☾ ˖*⭒⁺ ──

I was tagged by @gothimp @strafethesesinners @aceghosts @onehornedbeast @amalkavian @cloudofbutterflies92 @simonxriley thank you! ♡♡♡

𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙊𝘾, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙛𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮'𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧

𝘼 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙮 𝘼𝙪𝙧𝙤𝙧𝙖

"ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ

ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪꜱ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ

ɪ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴛʜɪɴɢ"

𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙧 𝙗𝙮 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙏𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣

"ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴡʀᴀᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɪɴꜱ

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ, ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ"

𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝙗𝙮 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙚

"ɪ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ꜱᴡɪɴɢɪɴ' ᴍʏ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀ ꜱᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇᴇꜱ 'ᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪ

ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʜᴏɴᴇʏ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ

ɪ'ʟʟ ʀɪᴘ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴍᴀꜱʜ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀɴᴇᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴇꜱᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ?

ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ɪ'ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ

ɪ'ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ 'ᴛɪʟ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ"

𝙄𝙩 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙮 𝙃𝙤𝙯𝙞𝙚𝙧

"ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴍᴇ

ᴊᴇꜱᴜꜱ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ

ɪᴛ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏᴏʀᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ɪ'ʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ

ᴏʜ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ ɴᴏ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴋɪɴᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴀꜰꜰᴏʀᴅ

ɪ ᴡᴀʀɴ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴀʙʏ, ᴇᴀᴄʜ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀꜱ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʙᴏʀɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴡʟɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛꜱɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏᴏʀ"

𝘽𝙖𝙙 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙗𝙮 𝙅𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩

ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ɪꜱ ᴛʀᴜᴇ

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪꜱ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ

ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴅᴏ ʙᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴅᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟ ʙᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ

[All of these songs I really associate with Valen in some way - they apply to some part of his life or character. Bad Things and Sugar apply to his husband and the stuff they get up to 🫠 Black Honey, It Will Come Back, and Dangerous Thing speak directly to Valen's character and the things he's done]

𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙛𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧

[He dresses pretty simply - a lot of dark colours and the words 'comfortable', 'tactical', and 'utilitarian' come to mind. Valen doesn't mind spending more on items that he really likes and knows will last him for a long while. About 40% of his attire is gear for work; lots of tactical clothing that gives him a bit of protection and holds his other gear. Such as holsters, tac vests, and other related things.]

#this was fun i love character associations so much #thank you again for the tags!#trying something different with the taglist - gonna reblog with an addition this go around and see if it works #anyways - i hope y'all have fun if y'all do it!#『 𝔤𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 』#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk oc #male v #get in the tags boy #⠀- ̗̀ ⸨ 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔞𝔴 ⸩⁺☀︎⭒๋#⠀- ̗̀ ⸨ 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫//𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔢 ⸩⁺☀︎⭒๋#⠀- ̗̀ ⁝ 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫'𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔟𝔢𝔰 ⁝ ⁺ ׄ ˖ ۫ 𓇬 ⁺ ˖ ۫

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iris0gardens · 2 months

Text

╳The dance shared with you╳ - Aiden Pearce x FEM!Reader

☾"you know what they say, a dance is shared by two"☽

TW: Romance. blood, angy vigilante, violence, gun go pew pew, swearing, suggestiveness

Description: Y/N and Aiden were in the middle of a mission as they were pushed onto the dance floor. Having to keep up their happy persona as a couple, they started dancing to the jazz music played in the background as guards watched closely.

"fuck.." Aiden muttered under his breath as he proceeded to twirl Y/N around. His glance occasionally drifted towards the guards as they seemed to have a keen eyes on the pair. The vigilante needed to figure out a game plan to get out of this situation before they figured out that him and the female assassin weren't a part of the party troupe.

On the other hand, his female companion had the time of her life as she swaved around with her partner in crime. Her H/C hair softly swinging around as she laughed, not paying attention towards the guards suspicious of them as she loosely hung her arms around the tall males neck.

"Aideen, sweetheart...just enjoy this dance with me "she spoke iwith happiness with a small smile plastered on her face as she tried to get a reaction out of him, wondering if he enjoyed this dance as much as she did. Aiden however unfazed by her flirtiness just nodded as he got closer to her, his hands on her waist as he looked into her eyes nonchalantly. "The guards are watching us..I don't think they are buying it that we belong here." he whispered to her as her proceeded to keep the dance going with her.

Y/N looked around as she realised the guards observing them on the floor. "Ahhh, I see what you mean now. Look, lets just pretend to be a real couple. No matter the extend." She confidently blurred out as she looked back up into Aiden's icy blue eyes, mesmerized by them wondering how they managed to capture her every time and how they made her feel so safe at the same time. Aiden nodded slightly as he kept thinking about how he is doing it for the mission, blurring out the fuzzy feelings he felt in his chest. "alright, lead the way" he said as his face displayed a small smile and thinking about what the female would do next. He wanted her to display the boundary before doing anything on his own, wanting to ensure her being comfortable.

With that word spoken, something in Y/N clicked and she smirked teasingly at him as she proceeded to put a hand to his face while the other stayed around his neck. "oh Aiden, the things you do to me~" she purred out as she proceeded to mutter sweet nothings onto him. Aiden's grip on her waist tensed up as he proceeded the information she was confessing to. He chuckled and proceeded to twirl her after Y/N quieted down. After the twirl, he dipped her slightly, looking into her E/C eyes. "you know what they say, a dance is made for two" he said with a teasing smirk on his face as he planted his rough lips onto her.

Y/N was taken aback by this but was quick to melt into the kiss as she now cupped his face into her hands. Both sharing a kiss of yearning and passion as Aiden slowly placed her back straight on her feet as he kept his hands on her waist. Y/N arms swung around his neck as one of her hands found their way up to his messy hair, and running them through his messy locks.

The guards clearly saw enough and proceeded to carry on with their routine, some scuffing in disgust of the couples display of affection as others simply rolled their eyes as they left the scene.

Aiden occasionally half opened his eyes to see the guards left as he kept kissing her with all the emotions he had hidden for her, once they did, he slowly pulled away from the kiss, leaving his hands on her waist as Y/N stared at him with big eyes and her cheeks burning red. "you did that on purpose did you?...you knew they would leave?" She whispered as she demanded an explanation as she fixed her attire.

"Yes and no. Maybe I simply wanted to kiss you."Aiden replied with a teasing tone in his voice as he proceeded to walk off the dance floor, holding Y/N´s hand as he pulled her along.

"Come on Y/N, we have a mission to finish."

-Ayyy first Aiden fanfic posted on here, hope you enjoyed and cant wait to write more!!-

-not keen on constructive critism as I do this as a way to enjoy myself and share it, so PLEASE NO COMMENT ON MY WRITING STYLE UNLESS ITS A GRAMMER ERROR. THAMK YOUU-

-Also yes i couldnt wait until the poll was over bc i really enjoyed thiss.. after this and the Wrench fanfic, imma write in gender neutral terms. The ideas i had for them were in female aspect but after i will do my best to warp my ideas around gender neutral terms :)-

#watch dogs #watch dogs aiden #fanfic #oneshot #aiden pearce

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onyx666 · 9 months

Text

☽◯☾ let the moon settle you ☽◯☾

chapter 1

pairing : finnick odair x black fem!reader

warnings : none

don’t hesitate to click on the links （＾ν＾）(underline text)

In the dimly lit room, the air was heavy with the scent of incense and the echo of distant memories. Reclined on a worn leather chair, the cold sensation of the tattoo artist's gloves on her neck is sending shivers down her spine. The walls were adorned with faded tapestries depicting scenes of both despair and triumph, a visual testament to the haunting stories etched into the skin of those who sought solace here. The steady buzz of the tattoo machine hummed in the background, filling the room with an ominous soundtrack as she braced herself for the ritual about to unfold.

The inker, a silent figure with eyes that held the weight of countless stories, prepared the ink that would soon be embedded into her skin.

As the needle met flesh, the pain mingled with a strange sense of catharsis. The molnija, a symbol of the life she took in the arena, began to emerge on her skin like a dark omen. Each stroke of the needle echoed the haunting memory of that fateful moment, the arena's unforgiving atmosphere, and the desperation that had led to the kill.

The room seemed to absorb the shadows, amplifying the somber mood as she thought about that soul she had annihilated on that battleground. The flashing ghost that lingered in the recesses of her mind, its presence intensified by the ink weaving its way into her skin. The pain and regret converged in a melancholic dance, leaving an indelible mark not only on her body but also on her soul.

The lodge became a sanctuary of shadows, the only illumination emanating from the dim glow of the artist's lamp. The mark, now etched into her skin, seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a macabre testimony to the harsh reality of the Games.

Near the end of the process, a heavy silence settled in the room. She, marked by the indigo ink that told a story of survival stained with sorrow, rose from the chair. The molnija on her skin was a permanent scar, a visual echo of the arena's brutality and the darkness that had seeped into her soul.

In the mirror, she confronted her reflection—a visage altered by the weight of her choices. That mark is going to stand as a haunting emblem, a constant reminder that, in the pursuit of life, one will have to confront the shadows that cling to the edges of survival.

Capitol - [17 - 19]

As she stepped into the grandeur of her victor's party in the Capitol, the contrast between her humble origins and the extravagance surrounding her was stark. Winning the 69th edition of the Hunger Games became real. The venue, adorned with opulent fabrics and sparkling lights, gleamed with a decadence foreign to the simplicity of her home District. The air was filled with the lively hum of Capitol citizens, their colorful attire and extravagant hairstyles creating a spectacle that seemed to defy gravity.

Finding herself in a world where excess was the norm. The walls were draped in cascades of silk, shimmering in every hue imaginable. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting prismatic patterns across the room. The Capitol's eccentricity was on full display, with citizens dressed in outfits that defied logic and science—feathers, metallic fabrics, and avant-garde designs that hinted at a creativity untamed by the constraints of practicality.

A live band played a lively tune in the garden, the music pulsating through the space and drawing Capitol attendees to the dance floor. Still adjusting to the splendor around her, she couldn’t help but observe the vibrant dance of colors, both in the attire of the people and the kaleidoscope of lights that danced above them. Waiters glided through the crowd, bearing trays of delicacies that she had never imagined.

The exotic scents of Capitol cuisine wafted through the air, tempting her senses with a richness she hadn't known in District Eleven. Golden platters held bite-sized treats adorned with edible gold leaf, and glasses filled with effervescent drinks bubbled enticingly.

Despite the festive atmosphere, she felt a pang of homesickness. Her gaze lingered on the holographic displays showcasing scenes from Eleven, a stark reminder of the life she had left behind. The Capitol's citizens, however, seemed oblivious to the disparities between the districts, lost in their own world of excess.

The eccentricity of the Capitol population was a spectacle in itself—each person striving to outshine the other in a display of flamboyance that bordered on the surreal.

As she navigated the party, she encountered Capitol citizens eager to engage with the new victor. They complimented her on her triumph, but their words felt like a distant murmur amid the overwhelming opulence. The Capitol's fascination with the Games manifested in their insatiable curiosity about the victors, turning her into a temporary celebrity in this glittering world.

She exchanged bitter pleasantries with Capitol officials, their polished manners contrasting sharply with her straightforward sincerity. The conversations were a delicate dance between the genuine and the superficial, as she struggled to navigate the unfamiliar terrain of political niceties.

In the midst of the celebration, her eyes met those of a fellow victor from a previous Hunger Games. A mentor now, they approached her with a knowing smile filled with sadness. Their eyes held a shared understanding of the harrowing journey she had undertaken, a journey that went beyond the glitz of the Capitol.

One Capitolite, a woman, with an elaborate headdress that seemed to defy gravity, giggled and remarked, “You must have had quite the adventure! I can’t imagine living without all the luxuries we have here.” The implication hung in the air—her life in Eleven was inconceivable, a distant and inferior existence compared to the opulence of the Capitol.

Despite the glittering surroundings, she felt an undercurrent of isolation. The Capitol citizens, in their pursuit of entertainment, had forgotten the humanity behind the victor. It was as if her struggles and victories were reduced to a theatrical performance, a diversion for their amusement.

The conversation fading in the back of her mind, her eyes met those of the fellow victor who had approached her earlier. There was a silent acknowledgment between them, a shared understanding of the dichotomy they faced—the duality of being celebrated and yet diminished to mere entertainment.

As the night unfolded, She found herself torn between the allure of the Capitol's extravagance and the memories of District Eleven. The party was a swirl of colors, music, and laughter, but amidst the celebration, she couldn't escape the shadows of the arena that lingered in her mind.

In this juxtaposition of luxury and survival, her, the young victor from Eleven, stood as a living testament to the resilience that could emerge from the darkest corners of Panem.

In the midst of the discomforting conversations, she felt a rather presumptuous touch on her shoulder. Turning, she found Finnick Odair, the charismatic victor from District Four, wearing a smug smile that hinted at both arrogance and mischief.

His tanned, sun-kissed and golden skin provided a striking contrast to his sea-green eyes, a captivating blend that reflected both warmth and depth.

He seamlessly interrupted the group, his presence demanding attention.

“Care for a dance?” Finnick’s request was accompanied by a challenging smirk, and he extended his hand, as if daring her to refuse. With a mix of reluctance and annoyance, she accepted the offer, escaping from the scrutinizing gazes and disconcerting questions.

The sudden shift from interrogation to an invitation to dance was met with a collective pause from the attendees. Finnick's effortless arrogance had transformed the atmosphere, turning an uncomfortable spotlight into an impromptu moment of forced celebration.

As she took his hand and joined him on the dance floor, the live band adjusted its tune to a rhythm that matched the graceful movements of the two victors. Finnick's skilled steps and her stoic expression turned the dance into an unexpected spectacle, a blend of tension and compliance.

Their dance, devoid of any genuine warmth, became a symbol of reluctant participation, a forced interlude against the Capitol's tendency to objectify victors. Finnick's cocky banter and her occasional biting remarks created a dance that mirrored the power dynamics of their world. The Capitol citizens, momentarily intrigued by the unexpected turn of events, witnessed a performance that teetered on the edge of social discomfort.

As they twirled and moved across the dance floor, Finnick maintained his smug demeanor, enjoying the discomfort he had thrust upon her. Yet, she refused to let his arrogance go unchallenged.

"So why did you accept? Was it my pretty smile or the infamous reputation that lured you into this dance?" Finnick's voice carried a mocking tone, attempting to unravel her composure.

A wry smile played on her lips. "Oh, Finnick, don't mistake my acceptance for admiration. I merely thought a dance might provide a more tolerable alternative to your insufferable conversation."

Finnick's attempts to steer the conversation away from personal matters met with her sharp retorts, turning the dance into a verbal battleground.

Undeterred, he leaned in with a sly grin. "You can't deny there's a certain charm to this it. Perhaps you'll find it more enjoyable than you anticipated."

Her gaze remained unwavering. "Your charm may dazzle those pigs you occasionally call your friends, Finnick, but it holds little sway over me. This dance is a strategic maneuver, nothing more."

He chuckled, a low, confident sound that reverberated through her. "A strategic maneuver? You give this dance far too much credit. Perhaps you're not as immune as you'd like to believe."

The response was swift. "Charm is a fleeting illusion, Finnick. It holds no power over substance. This dance is a calculated choice, not a surrender to you."

Finnick's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Most would have succumbed to the allure of the Capitol by now. Yet here you are, dancing on your own terms."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed her eyes. “If you gaze long enough into an abyss-”

"The abyss also gazes into you" Finnick finished her sentence, intrigued by the cryptic response.

The party, once an uncomfortable ordeal, had transformed into a nuanced dance of social dynamics, where she navigated the Capitol's expectations with a mixture of defiance and composure. Meanwhile, he, though seemingly victorious, couldn't deny the unexpected complexity that had unfolded beneath the surface of that interaction.

As the dance concluded and the crowd rejoined them on the dance floor, they slipped away, finding solace in the secluded beauty of the garden. She couldn't shake off the resentment for what he represented – the embodiment of the Capitol's playboy image, a pawn in their elaborate game.

He noticed the lingering tension and attempted to break the ice. "You know, not all of us chose this life. We're just pieces in their twisted puzzle."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "You seem to be enjoying it quite a bit, playing the part they want you to play."

Finnick sighed, his eyes momentarily betraying a hint of weariness. "It's all about survival. You play the hand you're dealt."

She scoffed. "Survival? You seem to be doing pretty good from what all Panem and I can see."

He paused, his gaze meeting hers with a flicker of sincerity. "Not everyone is as free as they appear. There are strings attached, and cutting them comes at a cost."

They strolled amidst the vibrant blooms, the moonlight casting a delicate glow on their conversation. She couldn't deny the complexity of his existence, even if she resented the role he played.

"I've navigated shadows, walked paths I'd shield from the sun," Finnick admitted, his voice a delicate unveiling of vulnerabilities veiled by his charming facade. "But survival, that's the currency they demand from us."

Her skepticism softened into a momentary understanding. "Surviving at what cost, Finnick? Your fucking soul?"

He chuckled bitterly. "The Capitol doesn't leave much room for souls, darling. They don’t even care for it"

She sighed, the weight of the Capitol's influence pressing down on them.

He met her gaze, his eyes revealing a complex blend of defiance and resignation. "Did Snow spoke to you?" he asked dodging the look in her eyes.

"Not yet. Why?" she replied, searching for understanding in his guarded expression.

Finnick shrugged nonchalantly, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Just curious. The Capitol tends to play its games, and Snow is the puppet master. Always worth knowing whose strings you're tangled up in, especially after a victory."

She frowned, a knot of unease forming in her stomach. The mention of President Snow brought back memories of his looming presence in the Capitol, a figure synonymous with control and manipulation.

"What does Snow want with me?" she questioned, her voice tinged with actual concern.

Finnick chuckled, a wry edge to his laughter. "Who knows what goes on in that twisted mind of his? Just be cautious. Capitolites love to weave narratives, and we're all characters in their grand spectacle."

He deftly shifted the conversation, steering it away from the enigmatic dealings of the so called regent.

“What was the anchor that kept you going in the arena ?” he asked.

A pensive silence hung in the air before she began, “It’s not a memory; it’s a feeling—the warmth of the sun on my face as I worked in the orchards, the rustling of leaves, and the quiet whispers shared between workers.” Her voice carried a nostalgic lilt, a reflection of the simple and rarejoys she had known in District Eleven.

Finnick listened attentively, the subtle dance of moonlight casting shifting patterns on the garden floor. “But in the arena, that warmth turned into the cold steel of weapons, and the whispers became the screams of those who fell.”

Her words bore the weight of the transformation, a metamorphosis from the familiar embrace of home to the unforgiving arena.

As she spoke, the moon’s glow accentuated the contours of her face, revealing a tapestry of emotions etched in every expression. Finnick, still standing in the shadows, observed with a silent intensity. The night seemed to unfold like a novel, each sentence adding depth to the narrative they were constructing.

“What about you, playboy ?”

He painted the scene with his words, “It was during the calm before the storm. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the district. The waves gently lapped against the shore, and for a moment, the air was filled with tranquility. I stood at the edge of the fishing docks, surrounded by the familiar scent of the sea. In that brief respite, I found a seashell on the beach. It wasn’t much you know, but it was enough. Just a simple reminder of a world beyond the brutality that was awaiting. Holding that seashell, I felt a connection to something pure, something untouched by the darkness that we were immersed in. It was a moment of quiet pride, watching the boats return with their bounties. I believed in a future where I could contribute to our district, make it better.”

Finnick’s gaze held a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. “But dreams have a way of shattering. The hollowness set in after the celebration, and the silence in my heart matched the quietude of the sea after the cheers faded away. I faced the reality that awaited me, all of us, as a victor, and it just became a distant echo of the life I had hoped for.”

"Live fast, die young, be wild and have fun....they say." she expressed with a bitter laugh slipping off her lips still cringing at the mantra.

As the gloomy moonbeam reflected on the side of her face in the moonlit night, she spoke with a grace that caught the peacock's attention, still standing in the shadows. The moonlight painted her face with a soft glow, revealing a tapestry of emotions in every expression. As strands of her hair danced in the gentle breeze, Finnick observed in silence.

The night, wrapped in the luminous embrace of the moon, held the promise of a new narrative written in the language of stardust and whispered confessions.

"I believed in the country Panem used to be." she said, still holding hope for the person she wanted to become.

In this moment, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, she became Moon, a celestial muse -a constellation of emotions and experiences that left an indelible mark on his heart, even him not noticing it.

Their conversation meandered through the intricacies of their existence, touching on the compromises they made to survive in a world that thrived on spectacle. Finnick, typically a master of charm, revealed fragments of a soul that yearned for freedom beyond the Capitol's whims.

As they continued to wander through the garden, the dichotomy between them softened. She glimpsed the cracks in his playboy facade as he caught a glimpse of the fire that fueled her resistance.

a/n : i keep seeing ppl do the ai voice cloning thing for a more immersive reading so why not try it

1) Finnick and Moon are 19 and 17

2) since the majority of Eleven’s population is predominantly Black and Native American/Indigenous, it seemed logical to me that Moon came from this District.

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick fanfic #finnick x you #finnick x oc #hunger games finnick #let the moon settle you #finnick odair smut #thg series #thg finnick #thg #thg fanfiction

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jaesqueso · 2 years

Text

Paid love (m)

pairing: stripper!taeyong x CEO female!reader (feat taeil, mark, haechan, doyoung and mentions of jaehyun and johnny)

summary: you’re a regular at taeyong’s shows at the strip club, but you want to give him more than just paid love

word count: 5,748

warnings: fluff, smut, slow burn, stripping, protected sex

a/n: time for the birthday gift to myself! this turned out way bigger than I intended but this story has been on my mind for so long that it just made sense to have it ready for today, must I say his solo stage on their tour was a big inspiration 😉 I hope ya’ll enjoy it ❤ not proof read yet

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

“Come in.” Taeil responds to the knock on his office door.

“Mr Moon, she’s here.” Mark announces with a smile.

“Oh, perfect!” Locking the computer, Taeil follows the bartender back to the club.

Mark goes back behind the counter as the other makes his way on the costumer side.

“Miss Y/LN, always a pleasure seeing you here.” He takes your hand kissing the back of it.

“Taeil…” You tilt your head with a knowing look.

“Right, I’m sorry. Y/N.” For a long time you’ve been insisting on him treating you by your first name but it still seems like a hard task. “You look beautiful tonight. As always.”

“Oh, you are too sweet.” You chuckle teasingly tapping his shoulder.

“Do you have something to drink yet?” He asks but then notices a bartender deliver it, right on time.

“Yes, Haechan was already taking care of it.” You assure him and then return to the bartender with a playful wink. “Thank you darling.”

“Let me walk you to your table.” Taeil gestures for you to take the lead, following right behind.

For months you’ve been coming to this club and you’re not particularly shy with the money you spend here, so that comes with some advantages like some VIP treatment and your own reserved table specially at a particular time.

“You’ve arrived just in time, he’s about to start.” Taeil helps you take a sit right in front of the stage.

“Don’t I always?” You smirk.

Ladies, a round of applause for Jaehyun!

“Of course.” The owner of the club smiles. “Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you, Taeil.” You say but your eyes are already glued to the stage as the stripper leaves and they announce the next one.

And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for. With you on stage: TY!

Your eyes light up as the room goes dark. Then the curtains open and there he is, laying on a moon shaped light structure. A sexy upbeat song starts playing and he starts bouncing his head as some lights come back up.

The audience sheers as he runs a hand down his torso before lifting up to a sitting position and turning to face the front of the stage. Your heart almost skips a beat as he gets up and starts walking like he’s coming your way, lip syncing every word like he wrote it himself.

Sipping on your drink, you take some time admiring his attire before it goes flying around the room: black shiny boots with a bit of a heel, brown sparkle pants with a snake print, leather black vest and gloves overlaid by a camel leather jacket.

His body starts moving along the beat, like he’s taken over by the music and they become one, just like every night. His moves are smooth and sexy, using the whole stage as his own. His hands travel freely over the clothes as his hips move at such a controlled pace.

Teasing the audience by dragging his jacket down his shoulders, he then pulls it back up with a smirk and spins, making everybody scream in anticipation. But has the song comes to a bass drop he finally gives the public what they want, removing the jacket and throwing it somewhere you don’t even care to look at, your eyes only fixed on him.

You now notice the cut outs on the sides of his vest, giving you a hint of that lean torso of his. But as the music progresses you’re given an even better look as he rips the vest open, rolling his body at the perfect tempo.

Having enough with the piece of clothing he removes the vest too, making your mouth water as he runs his glove covered hands down his chest until he reaches his crotch, giving it a tight squeeze.

Coming to the bridge of the song he dolphin dives into the floor, staying down practically humping the stage as the crowd goes wild. You feel yourself tugging on the collar of your shirt, your body heat increasing by the second.

Unfortunately you know the track by heart and can feel it coming to its end as he gets up and dances his way back the moon structure, standing in front of it. When the final beat hits the smoke fire and he rips his pants, giving you only a glance of his legs before the lights go out once again.

That was TY, ladies, make some noise!

The audience does not disappoint, cheering and throwing dollar bills at the stage, begging him to come back. But that doesn’t happen as the speaker announces the next performer.

It’s hard following on that but you know he never disappoints. Give it up for Johnny!

The crowd quickly forgets about him as the taller tanned man gets up on stage to do his thing, but you get up and walk back to the bar.

“Miss, the room is ready.” Another worker of the club approaches you after Haechan treats you to a re-fill of your drink earning himself a generous tip.

“Thank you, Doyoung.” You follow him with a smile into the private rooms on the left side of the club.

“Make yourself comfortable, TY will be right with you.” He lets you know as you get inside.

“Perfect.” You take a sit on the purple couch but call the boy before he closes the door. “Tell him to keep the gloves on.”

“Will do, Miss.” Bowing he leaves you to anxiously wait in the neon lit room with a pole in the middle.

Some sensual R&B song starts playing in the room, giving you chills as you know he’s arriving. A light knock on the door is heard before you finally make real eye contact.

“Hey.” The sound of his voice is enough to make you feel at home.

“TY.” You bite your lip as he enters the room in only his boots, gloves, as you requested, and the black leather underwear you barely saw before.

“Did you like my show today?” He takes a spin around the dance pole.

“It was perfect, as always.” You admire the way he moves so naturally.

“What about the outfit?” He leans against the pole tugging on his gloves. “I heard you requested to keep these on.”

“I did.” You adjust on your seat. “Seeing you touch yourself with them, I couldn’t help wonder how they’d feel on me.”

“Why do you keep trying to corrupt me?” He walks your way with a smirk. “You know there are rules.”

“I know, I know.” You sigh. “But a gentle touch in the arm is not forbidden, is it?”

“You always know how to get your way don’t you?” Suddenly he leans forward, one of his hands resting on the back of the couch, right next to your head, while the other follows your request gently moving down your arm.

“I do my best.” You close your eyes taking in the touch. “And I have a feeling you don’t mind walking on the line for me.”

“Aren’t you cocky?” He leans back again rolling his body to the beat, this time in a slower sexier way than before on the stage.

“Aren’t you avoiding the question?” You smirk attentively following his moves with your hungry eyes.

“Well played.” He grins turning around, continuing to dance.

“So, have you thought about it?” You ask the question stuck in your throat for a while.

“About what?” He glances back as he pretends not to know what you’re talking about.

“Oh c’mon…” Moving your hands to rest on the couch at either side, you give him room to sit on your lap, his back facing you. “Ok, I’ll play your game and ask the question again. When are you going to let me take you on a real date?”

“Why would you want to take me on a real date?” He asks back instead of replying, moving his hips against you.

“Because I like you, you know that.” You tuck some money on the side of his underwear. “And I want to know more about you.”

“You don’t like me, Y/N, you like the idea of me.” Grabbing your hands he runs them up and down his torso, it’s forbidden for you to touch him but not if he leads you.

“How do you know that?” You take a deep breath, inhaling his hypnotising scent.

“Because you don’t know me.” He gets up and turn not face you. “Not outside of these walls.”

“So let me get to know you outside of these walls.” You rest your head back on the couch, eyes still on him.

“What if you don’t like me out there?” He climbs back on your lap but this time facing you, one leg at each of your side.

“You’re scared I’ll break your heart?” Watching the way he looks down you can tell that’s a weak spot for him. “TY, I’m not like those other women out there. I want to get to know and I want to treat you right. Why do you think I come here only for your shows and this time alone with you?”

“For the fantasy.” He looks back into your eyes. “The TY fantasy.”

“As much as I like the TY fantasy, I’d rather have the real you reality.” You lift your hand to touch his face but stop yourself before a body guard barges in.

“If you don’t stop the smooth talk I might believe it.” A nervous smile grows on his face as he supports himself on the space between your neck and your should to roll his abs right on your face.

“You sound like I’m trying to convince you of a lie.” You tuck some more money, now in the front of his underwear. “But deep down you know I’m telling the truth, you’re just scared to be vulnerable and open the possibility that you might like me too.”

He doesn’t reply and keeps teasing you with his body at the beat of the track list. You decide not to insist, enjoying the show as you empty your wallet on the waistband of his underwear.

It’s weird to be silent like this, you usually talk about everything and anything, teasing each other in between, honestly enjoy these moments alone, even if you’re being watched by the security camera at the corner of the room.

“I should go.” He sighs getting himself together as the music set comes to an end indicating the time in the room is up.

“They should really let me book the room for longer.” You try to lighten up the mood.

“Yeah…” He almost whispers heading for the door.

“TY?” You call out before he reaches the handle.

“Yes?” He doesn’t turn around making your heart tighten

“If this is starting to make you uncomfortable let me know and I’ll stop.” You get up and tell him honestly. “I just want you to know that I mean what I said. I like you and I’d really love to take you out and get to know you. But I won’t insist anymore, I don’t want you to feel pressured just because of the money.”

There’re some seconds of more silence that make you sigh and sit back down. But then he speaks.

“I’m not working Friday night. You can take me to dinner.” He keeps facing the door.

“Really?” You gasp, not believing what you’re hearing.

“You can pick me up here at 7.” He then glances back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t, I promise.” You give him the biggest smile you can pull out and he turns away and heads out before you see how happy he is too.

A few days go by and it’s finally Friday. In front of the mirror you examine every inch of your look making sure you are perfect, from your killer dress showing off all your best atributes, to your stiletto heels, matching bag and fur coat. One final touch on your lipstick and you head out the door ready for the date of your life.

At the same time, your date changes his shirt 5 times before realising he doesn’t have any shoes to go with it and has to change it once more, his hair does not seem to work on his favour and, since he’s working against the clock, he decides on pushing it back with some wax and praying for the best. Taking a deep breath in front of the mirror, he nods as if trying to convince himself he looks good enough for you before he grabs his jacket and leaves.

Pacing from side to side, he starts picking his nails as he second guesses himself. Maybe he should’ve kept saying no. You’ll probably lose interest in him today and he’ll lose the one he expects to see the most when he goes on stage. He’s not even sure if by doing this he will put his job on the line. There’s still time to go back, hide in his covers and pretend-

Beep Beep

Startled he looks to the road where a black low sports car pull over. The passenger window rolls down and he leans to see who it belongs to.

“Hey, pretty boy.” You greet him with a grin. “Need a ride?”

“I- Hm- Yes!” Stumbling over his words, he enters the vehicle.

“Are you ok?” You chuckle as he observes the luxurious inside with widen eyes.

“Yeah, I just…” Gulping he turns to you. “You have a really nice car.”

“Thank you.” You bow. “Now put that seatbelt on, we don’t want any bad thing to happen to you.”

“Oh, right.” He follows your request as you take the car off the parking mode. “Wait, what bad thing-”

You don’t let him finish the sentence stepping on the gas, gluing him to the seat. His heart beats like crazy but the adrenaline running through his veins hope this ride never comes to an end. But it does and soon enough you are parking the car in front of a restaurant as fancy as your car.

Getting out, you walk around and open the door for him that is still trying to put himself together after the crazy ride.

“You coming?” You chuckle holding a hand to help him out.

Slowly taking your hand, he gets out of the car and takes a look at you from top to bottom, jaw dropping at the view.

“Do I look ok?” Tilting your head you adjust the fur coat over your shoulders.

“Ok?” He gulps, looking at himself before back at you. “I look ok. You look amazing…”

“Oh c’mon.” You playfully tap his shoulder. “But I must say, as good as you look in leather, I really like seeing you in casual clothing.”

Unable to stop a shy smile on his face, he closes the door and takes the arm you’ve opened for him. Eyes glued on you, he doesn’t even properly analyse the restaurant before you’re about to head inside, stopping you in the front step.

“Wait,” you can sense the nervousness on his voice, “this si where we’re having dinner?”

“That was the plan.” You look at him trying to understand what’s going through his mind. “Unless, you don’t want to.”

“Well, it’s just…” He trails off, looking around.

“What is it?” You turn your body towards him, gently caressing his arm.

“I…” Taking a deep breath he looks down. “I don’t think I belong here. Not when I look like this…”

“Hey,” with your hand you tilt his chin up to look at you, “we can go somewhere else if you want.”

“No, I mean, you probably made a reservation and everything, I just wish you’d told me so I’d dress up more…” His voice slowly disappears by the end of the sentence.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to be yourself, not to put on a mask just because we were going to a certain place.” You explain. “I told you, I want to get to know the real you.”

He doesn’t say anything and you start to feel like you’re screwing things up already. But you can’t bring yourself to accept a defeat, you turn this around.

“Ok, come with me.” You take his hand and start walking away from the fancy restaurant.

“Wait, where are we going?” He follows, confused.

“Somewhere else.” You smile back before checking the road so you can cross it.

“But what about your reservation?” He asks matching your steps to the other side.

“Screw that.” You stop making him almost bump into you. “Do you like burgers?”

“Hm?” He lifts his brow, confused with your question but you keep awaiting his answer. “Well, yes.”

“Perfect.” Pulling him again you enter a modest dinner and find a table.

“W-what are we doing here?” He looks around at the half empty place as he sits down.

“We’re having dinner.” You smile, grabbing the menu. “Does this feel more comfortable?”

“Well, yeah… But you-” He tries to debate but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about me ok?” You take his hand over the table. “I honestly don’t care where we are, as long as I’m with you. Now take a look at this delicious menu!”

Smiling he picks up a menu and eventually the waiter comes over to take your order. The evening is spent talking, laughing and sharing embarrassing stories over fast food and fizzy drinks, contrasting with fine dinning and expensive wine you had in mind. But it is true that none of that matters when you’re finally sitting in front of him outside the strip club walls.

Both wish for the night to never end but truth is all good things do and you drive him back to where you picked him up.

“I hope you didn’t regret coming.” You glance at him after putting the car on park.

“I didn’t.” He confirms looking back at you. “Thank you for tonight and sorry for ruining your plans.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Gently you take his hand. “I had a lot fun. I’d really like to do this again sometime, if you want to, of course.”

“I’d like that.” He nods with a smile.

For a few seconds you just sit in silence looking into each others eyes, but there’s no awkwardness, simply comfort.

“I should go.” He finally announces.

“Of course.” You sigh.

All you want to do is kiss him and ask him to go to your place instead so you can show him all the things you’ve been fantasising for months. But you can’t. You want him to know this isn’t just about sex, you really do like him and therefore you should take things slow and-

Your thoughts are interrupted when he leans over and kisses your cheek.

“See you around, Y/N.” Bitting his lip he turns to the other side to open the door.

“Definitely, TY.” You’re barely able to reply, still startled by his act.

“It’s Taeyong.” He corrects you.

“Taeyong.” You repeat with a smile. “Goodnight, Taeyong.”

He closes the door and you watch him skip his way home before turning the car back on and driving away. You really feel like this could be the start of something real, something good.

Taeyong enters his house and melts down to the floor, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears. Even if he wanted to he wouldn’t be able to explain what you’re doing to him. This is the happiest he’s been in a long time and he wants to explore that feeling, but he’s still scared.

The next week brought a second date, and then a third, a forth and a fifth. The more you knew about him the more you got to see the beautiful person he is, inside and out, and you were sure you made the right decision on never giving up on asking him out.

The more he opens up to you, the more he feels he can trust again, his past trauma almost seems to fade into the background.

“You seem really close to your parents.” Taeyong comments after you share a funny story at a family gathering as you sit on the hood of your car by the beach on your sixth date.

“I am.” You smile gazing the waves under the moonlight. “I mean, they trusted and invested in me when my idea seemed so small and without a future. I now I’m a successful business owner. I owe everything to them.”

“That’s nice…” You notice he’s gone a little quiet.

“What about you?” Turning to him you try to be careful with your words. “You never talk about your family.”

“Well I…” He starts bitting his nail and you know him enough to understand the topic his making him nervous.

“You don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.” Gently you caress his back.

“It’s just that I never really had a family.” He sighs. “My parents abandoned me when I was a newborn. I kept bouncing from foster home to foster home. Nobody really understood me you know?”

Nodding you let him know you’re listening, letting him open up at his own pace.

“I always dreamed of becoming a dancer and the kids at the orphanage kept teasing me whenever they caught me dancing in my room or somewhere I thought I was alone. And then I met Johnny and he took me to Neo City, where he said he danced for a living. Obviously I didn’t have money to go to an academy so that seemed like a good step to take to pursue my dream. I know it’s silly,” he chuckles, “but at least I can do what I love. When Mr Moon saw me on the stage he offered me a job and, well, the rest is history.”

“I’m so proud of you for never giving up on your dreams.�� You motivate him. “I know you can climb higher if you want to.”

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.” He’s still cautious about your encouragement.

“I mean it. Channing Tatum was once a stripper too and look at him now!” You nudge his arm wiggling your brows.

“Nobody ever compared me to him.” Taeyong chuckles.

“See? It’s never too late for anything.”

Suddenly it starts raining heavily and you two run back into the car, laughing at how wet you got in a matter of seconds.

“We should go dry up.” You suggest as the laughter dies off. “My place is not far, but I can take you home instead.”

“It’s ok, we can go to your place.” You widen your eyes at his easy response.

“Are you sure?” You have to ask. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I’m sure.” He assures you with a smile. “Besides, I always wanted to see where a woman like you lives at, considering your ride.”

“Well, let’s go take a look then.”

You drive back and take him to your twenty seventh floor apartment. As he enters, he’s surprised with the place. For someone who obviously has a pay check way above average the place is not huge. Minimalistic decoration, not a lot of color, fancy yet simple. But the view…

Taeyong approaches your living room window and admires the beautiful city that seems so small and insignificant below him.

“That’s why I bought it.” You walk to him and hand him a towel. “When I saw this view I couldn’t let it go.”

“It’s so beautiful.” He comments as he wipes his hair.

“Do you want to take a shower?” You offer. “I’m sure I can find some clothes for you and put yours in the dryer.”

“Oh, that’s ok, I don’t want to bother.” He waves his hands.

“It’s really no bother, I just don’t want you to get sick.” You take your own towel and wrap it around his back.

“O-ok then.” He ends up accepting. “Thank you.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You guide him and close the door as he takes off his wet clothes. As he showers, you take his and your own to the dryer and put on a robe.

When he walks out wearing sweatshirt and pijama pants you borrowed him he finds you in the kitchen.

“I made us some tea to warm up.” You offer him a cup putting yours in the counter. “I think the clothes are done.”

Leaving to go pick them, Taeyong takes a sip as he waits your return.

“Here you go.” You place his folded clothes on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind, I put some scented sheets on the dryer to make them smell good-”

“Why are you doing all this?” He quickly asks, startling you.

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“Taking me out, being so nice… And you never once tried to kiss me.” He looks down. “You told me you liked me. Did you change your mind?”

“Why would I change my mind?” You walk towards where he’s sitting on the counter. “Taeyong, you’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. I said I like you before and I can tell you I like you even more now. The reason I didn’t kiss you yet is because I don’t want to force you to do anything. I’m just waiting for you to like me back-”

You’re interrupted when his smooth lips make their way to yours. It’s just a few seconds before he leans back and you blink taking in what just happened.

“I’ve always liked you back.” He whispers. “I just wanted to know if I could trust you with my heart.”

“You can trust me, Taeyong.” You caress his cheek looking straight into his eyes. “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

“Thank you.”

He kisses you again, this time with passion without holding back. And this time you kiss him back, your hands on his cheeks pulling him closer. Hesitantly his hands also find you, running down your back to your waist. Then he moves them to the front grabbing the strap on your robe to pull it open.

“Wait…” You stop him. “We don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t want to fuck me?” He bluntly asks.

“No.” You step back. “If anything, I want to make love with you, Taeyong. But only if that’s what you want, too.”

“I do.” He smiles at your correction.

“Are you sure?” You insist.

“Yes.” He nods.

“Come with me.” Taking his hand you lead him further inside the house.

“Where are we going?” He almost doesn’t care at how excited he is.

“To the bedroom.” You announce as you open the door. “If we’re doing this, I want to do it properly.”

Closing the distance once again he kisses you and you two stumble to the bed. You push him down to your bed where he adjusts to lay his head on your pillow, waiting for you to join him. But you have other plans.

“All this time I’ve watched you strip for me.” You stand at the end of the bed with a smirk. “This time, let me give you a show.”

Slowly you descend your hand down your chest to grab that strap he tried undo earlier. Biting his lip, Taeyong watches you gently pull on it, but before the front opens you turn around. You hear him groan at the tease, only encouraging you to continue.

Swaying your hips, even if there’s no music, you let the robe easily fall down your shoulders revealing your naked back. Looking back you see him gulp excited to see more. And so you give him more, letting the piece of clothing descend all the way to the ground, leaving you only in a sensual pink thong.

Finally you turn back around revealing your bare breasts that make his jaw drop. You then climb on the bed, crawling your way to hover him.

“Not bad for the first time?” You ask.

“Hm…” He pretends to debate it in his head making you tap his chest. “It wasn’t bad! But I can teach you a few things, if you want.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

But for now you take his mouth instead. Your hands make their way to the hem of the sweatshirt he’s still wearing and drag It off his body. You start kissing down his neck and into that smooth chest you’ve been dreaming to feel as you please, without fearing a bodyguard from the club comes to stop your party.

Reaching the hem of the pants he’s wearing, you look up to get one more sign that this is ok and by the way he nods biting his lip you get your answer. Taeyong lifts his hips to help you remove the last piece of clothing on his body and reveal the only place you hasn’t seen and been dying to.

Licking your lips you settle between his legs admiring his dick. You’ve imagined how it looked like more times than you’ll bring yourself to admit. But finally seeing it in front of you pushes everything you ever thought of to the side.

You start by taking a long lick from the base to the tip where you can taste the pre-cum oozing out. You look up as you hear small whines coming from his mouth and you are presented with an adorable pleasure face of someone who’s trying to hold themselves back.

Inch by inch you take his cock into your mouth, twirling your tongue around as you listen to him slowly letting go, his whines turning into moans that echo around the room. You bob your head up and down feeling him throb inside your mouth.

When you feel him hard and ready, you kiss your way back up his torso to your mouth, straddling his hips. You two moan into the kiss when you rub your wet underwear over his length.

“Condom-” Taeyong murmurs between kisses. “My wallet-”

“Don’t worry,” you reach into your bedside table and grab one, “I got it.”

Rolling down the rubber on his delicious cock, you take the moment to get the last piece of clothing off your body before aligning his dick with your hole. Again you search his face for acceptance and he gives you pleading look as he grasps your thighs in despair.

Finally you let yourself go down on his lap and be filled by his length. Moaning you throw your head back as you adjust to his size. But soon enough you start bouncing up and down his dick, feeling every inch move in and out of your body.

The sounds leaving his mouth encourage you to keep moving faster and you move his hands from your thighs to your breast that he instantly starts massaging, increasing your pleasure. Your dreamt about this moment for so long that it almost feels unreal that it’s finally happening.

Leaning forward you take his mouth again and a sloppy kiss, filled with love and passion. You can feel his hips move up to meet your thrusts, hungry for release.

Taeyong’s hands move from your breasts to your waist and in a quick move he flips your bodies around, leaving him on top. You yelp when he pushes your thigh up against your torso, changing the angle and making him reach places inside you you’ve never known was possible.

You can feel your orgasm fast approaching and by the way his movements starts getting faster and messier you know he’s close too. You wrap your legs around his waist, forcing him to lay closer to you and he kisses you again as you two let go, the ultimate pleasure making your bodies tremble in satisfaction, finally being united as one.

You stay just like that for a few minutes, your hands slowly moving up and down his back as you place gentle kisses on his shoulder, his smiley face nuzzled in the crook of your neck. How you wish you could stay in this sweaty bliss forever. But as he goes soft inside you, that tingling feeling on your core transform from pleasure into something else.

“Hey,” you roll your bodies to the side giving him a kiss on his forehead, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

As you leave the room the smile on his face fades, all his insecurities coming back. Maybe now you got what you wanted and you’ll be different towards him. Maybe he should just take this opportunity and go before you send him away.

Getting up, he makes his way to the living room, throwing the condom in the trash before picking up his clothes and getting dressed.

In the mean time you come back to the bedroom and encounter an empty bed.

“Taeyong?” You search around the house until you find him zipping up his pants. “What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.” He says picking up his shirt.

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” You furrow your brows taking a step closer.

“No, I just…” He sighs. “I just need to go.”

“Oh… I really wish you could stay, but if you need to go I can take you wherever you want.” You turn around to go get dressed too.

“You want me to stay?” You stop when he speaks up again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Turning back around you approach him and caress his cheek, showing him you’re being truthful. “Let’s do the following: I’m gonna go back to bed and you’ll take off those clothes again and join me, we’ll fall asleep in each others arms, then tomorrow I’ll make us breakfast and then we can do whatever your want, go for a walk, make some popcorn and watch a movie, or just stay in bed and be lazy, you choose.”

“I-I’d love that.” He whispers the smiling coming back to his face.

You make your way back to the bedroom and lay down, arms open to welcome him. Once his clothes are back on the couch he takes the place next to you cuddling his head in your chest as his arms go around your body.

All Taeyong ever wanted was to be loved and now in your embrace he finally feels like that can happen.

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

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