#jeon wonwoo oneshots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedensworld · 8 months ago

Text

Marry A Rich Man | J. Ww

Genre: suggestive, angst, fwb au!, smut

Summary: every parent wanted their daughter to marry a rich man, Jeon Wonwoo. However, you are a rich man.

gif from @meowonhao (he's so fine i just physically and mentally can't (/□＼*))

No warn, just read and find it by yourself:)

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Jeon Wonwoo from Jeon Enterprise. His reputation as a notorious womanizer and all-around arrogant businessman was well known, and the thought of meeting him didn’t exactly excite you. So when your mother brought up the idea, you could hardly hide your disinterest.

“But it’s time for you to start thinking about marriage, Y/N. Don’t you know your younger sister has already been proposed to by her boyfriend?” she pressed, her tone a mix of encouragement and frustration.

“Good for her,” you mumbled with a shrug, not even bothering to meet her eyes.

“At least pretend you're interested. Wonwoo is quite the catch these days among the socialites,” your mother added with a resigned sigh, as if she was pleading more for her own sake than yours.

You stood up from the dinner table, glancing at your watch with a practiced smile. "I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. There’s a business gathering I need to attend," you said, eager to make your exit.

Your father, who had been mostlydj silent, raised an eyebrow. “A business gathering? Will your friend Wonwoo be there? Say hello to him for me.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Father, you too?" you asked, feeling cornered.

He shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just say hi. That’s all I’m asking. For me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, shaking your head. “Fine. I’ll say hi.” The words came out reluctantly, but a small part of you wondered just what kind of person this infamous Jeon Wonwoo really was.

And here you were, sitting on a plush couch at a party teeming with young businessmen, most of whom had inherited their wealth rather than earned it. You sat alone at a table near where Jeon Wonwoo and his circle of friends lounged, their laughter loud and effortless. You had been invited by Kim Mingyu, the heir to Kim’s Group and the host of tonight’s extravagant affair. Mingyu and Wonwoo had been best friends since high school, along with familiar names like Seokmin and Junhui, who were part of their elite clique.

Jihoon, the doctor and heir to Seoul University Hospital, sat on a couch nearby with a can of Coke in hand, looking out of place among the champagne glasses and whiskey tumblers. “Too many people. My head hurts,” he muttered to you, rubbing his temple.

You chuckled softly. “That’s Mingyu for you. His social connections are endless. I wasn’t even surprised when I saw popular idols mingling here tonight.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement. “He’s a social butterfly. Sometimes I regret being friends with him,” he said with a wry smile, earning a genuine laugh from you. Jihoon had been your classmate in senior high school, and his deadpan humor was something you’d always appreciated.

Just then, Jihoon raised his hand, waving at someone behind you. You turned, and there he was—Jeon Wonwoo, making his way over, leaving Mingyu and the others behind at their table. He looked just as you had expected—sharp and composed, with an air of casual confidence.

“Can’t handle Mingyu?” Jihoon asked with a teasing grin as Wonwoo grabbed a glass of whiskey before settling into the couch across from you.

“Too much energy,” Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head, but his eyes quickly found yours.

“Nice to see you at a casual event for a change,” he said, his tone smooth, as if he were commenting on something extraordinary. You cursed internally, wishing Mingyu wasn’t your cousin and the reason you had to be here.

Jihoon chuckled. “Right? Y/N must be the hardest-working woman in this room. Always too busy building empires.” He leaned back, glancing at you with a teasing glint. “I saw your new building in Singapore last week, by the way. It looked incredible.”

You raised an eyebrow at both of them. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked, feigning offense, though their words had hit a nerve. Sure, you loved your work, but being painted as some workaholic who never had fun wasn’t exactly flattering.

Wonwoo smirked, swirling his whiskey. “It is. Not many people can pull off what you do. I’d say that’s impressive.”

Jihoon nodded, “Agreed. But don’t work too hard, Y/N. Some of us still need you to show up to these parties once in a while.”

You let out a soft laugh, but deep down, their remarks lingered. You were here, weren’t you? Yet somehow, you still felt worlds apart from them.

Jihoon glanced at his phone before letting out a soft sigh. "I should go. My shift starts in half an hour. It was nice seeing both of you here," he said, standing up and stretching slightly. Before leaving, he made a beeline for Mingyu to bid him goodbye.

As Jihoon walked away, Wonwoo turned to you, noticing your subtle discomfort. "Not a fan of parties?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp, clearly aware of your unease.

You cocked your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Are you?"

Wonwoo shrugged with a mischievous grin. "I wouldn’t say I am, but Mingyu taught me a lot about how to survive them." He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but amused by his charm. "I see. The student surpasses the master, perhaps?"

He smirked, eyes glinting with playful interest. "Only in certain things," he said, the subtle flirtation unmistakable in his tone. He let the moment linger, his gaze never leaving yours.

You held his stare, calm and unfazed. "Lucky you, then."

Wonwoo chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Why don’t we step outside for a bit?" he suggested, leaning in just enough to make it feel intimate. "I know a nice spot nearby. Somewhere quieter."

Intrigued, you glanced at the bustling party around you and nodded. "Lead the way."

He stood up and offered you his arm, which you took with a composed smile. Wonwoo led you out of the party and into the crisp night air. After walking a few blocks through the city’s lively streets, he guided you to an old, tucked-away bookstore. The warm glow from inside spilled onto the sidewalk, and an elderly man at the counter looked up as you entered, his face lighting up in recognition.

"Wonwoo!" the old man greeted with a smile. "Back again?"

Wonwoo nodded, grinning. "Couldn’t stay away for too long, Mr. Han."

The old man gave you a kind look, then returned to his book, leaving you and Wonwoo to browse. "Didn’t think you'd be the type to bring someone here," Mr. Han commented lightly.

Wonwoo chuckled, glancing at you. "Sometimes you just meet the right person."

You let out a soft laugh, strolling through the rows of worn books. "A bookstore at this hour? Unexpected," you remarked, impressed but keeping your composure.

Wonwoo shrugged, his voice low and smooth. "I thought you'd appreciate something different."

He wasn’t wrong. As you wandered through the cozy aisles, the noise of the outside world faded away, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional shared glance.

As the clock struck midnight, Mr. Han locked up the bookstore and waved his goodbyes, leaving you and Wonwoo sitting on the bench just outside. The city had quieted down, and the soft glow of streetlights cast a warm, intimate ambiance around you. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing effortlessly as Wonwoo, intrigued by the way you thought, kept throwing different topics your way. Each one seemed to reveal a different layer of you, and he couldn't help but be fascinated.

At one point, the topic turned to wealth and power. You leaned back on the bench, crossing your arms. "When you give a rich man a little power, he thinks he rules the world," you stated, your tone casual but sharp. You had just finished explaining how much you despised the typical behavior of wealthy men—playboys who worked hard only to shower their side chicks with luxury.

Wonwoo paused for a moment, considering your words. Then, with a slight smirk, he responded, "I do feel like I rule the world." His voice was smooth, confident. "But I don’t act the way you think."

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Liar. You’re quite famous for your playboy reputation, Mr. Jeon. You’ve got a habit of having everything—including any woman you want."

Wonwoo was momentarily caught off guard by the nickname, but he quickly composed himself, flashing a teasing smile. "Playboy agenda? That’s news to me."

"But you can’t deny you have everything," you pointed out, tilting your head slightly as you studied him.

He didn’t even hesitate. "You’re right. I do have everything." His tone was laced with confidence, almost as if he was testing you, waiting to see how you would respond.

You narrowed your eyes, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Rich men like you think they own the world, when in reality, they don’t."

Wonwoo let out a genuine laugh, leaning in slightly as if to further draw you into the moment. "Alright then, tell me. What don’t I own?" His voice had dropped lower, almost daring you to challenge him.

You shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Me. You don’t own me."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter charged with a subtle tension. Wonwoo's eyes lingered on yours, his smirk softening as he took in your words. "Yet," he said, his voice teasing but with an edge of something deeper, something bolder.

"You didn’t say my hello to Wonwoo," your father remarked casually as you entered his office the next morning.

You paused mid-step, organizing the files in your hands before glancing over at him. "How do you know?"

Your father sat on the main sofa, picking up one of the files you brought for him to review. "I ran into him yesterday. I asked about you, and he mentioned you didn't pass along my greeting." He looked at you with a knowing smile.

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the file toward him, trying to keep your expression neutral. "And what else did he say?"

Your father raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden curiosity. "Why? Did something happen between you two?"

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it, waving your hand dismissively. "No, I was just worried he might’ve said something bad. You know me—I’m not exactly known for being polite."

Your father chuckled, seemingly buying your excuse. "True. You’ve always been a bit like a debt collector in business—firm and straightforward. But it works for you. That said, Wonwoo did mention he’d like to see you again."

You nodded slowly, muttering under your breath, "I bet."

"What was that?" your father asked, but you waved it off, diverting the conversation back to the files. You weren’t going to entertain this topic any further, not now.

Later that day, as you continued working, your phone buzzed with a message from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wonwoo asked for your personal contact. What did I miss?

You stared at the message for a moment, shaking your head in disbelief. The last thing you wanted was to discuss Wonwoo, especially after everything that had happened the night before.

Still, you went about your day as if nothing had changed. You ignored your father’s comments, brushed off Mingyu’s text, and mentally dodged every thought of Jeon Wonwoo. But then, as you drove home, your mother called. Of course, the conversation somehow found its way back to him. Jeon Wonwoo—this man you’d only met at Mingyu’s birthday, yet who seemed to be lingering in everyone’s thoughts.

You sighed as you politely listened to your mother, her voice bubbling with excitement as if Wonwoo were the best thing that had ever happened. Little did she know you had spent the night with him, and now you were trying to figure out what it all meant.

The next morning, you arrived at your office, only to be greeted by an overwhelming sight—buckets of flowers surrounding your desk. You stood there, arms crossed, brows furrowed. The overwhelming scent filled the room, making the normally neat and orderly space feel chaotic.

"Someone’s been sending these non-stop since early this morning," your assistant said, standing beside you. "I don’t think they’ll stop unless you tell them to."

You picked up one of the cards attached to a bouquet, reading the note: I don’t appreciate the way we parted. Let’s meet again and clear up any misunderstandings.

Your eyes narrowed, already knowing who the sender was. You walked briskly to your computer and began typing an email to the flower sender—Jeon Wonwoo himself. You kept the tone professional, telling him to stop flooding your office with flowers and that, perhaps, you could meet again to "clear things up."

You hit send, sitting back in your chair with a sigh. Part of you wondered if you’d regret agreeing to meet him again, but another part—the curious part—was already anticipating it.

Wonwoo waited in the hotel room, his thoughts racing as he paced around. The same room. The same place where everything had begun on Mingyu's birthday night, when you had opened up to him—at least he thought you had. But the next morning, you were gone, leaving behind only a note and a sting to his pride.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't recognize himself lately. Since meeting you, he'd felt... off. Needy, even. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to wanting someone so much that it clouded his mind.

He remembered the note you left: It was nice. You’re experienced in this area. Along with it, you’d left some cash, as if he were some service you had paid for. That stung his ego more than he cared to admit. He should’ve been furious, but instead, all he could think about was craving you again—your skin against his, your presence.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned, watching as you casually entered the room. You kicked off your heels without care, tossed your expensive bag onto the couch, and sat down across from him with an air of confidence that was unmistakable.

"You’re late. Thirty minutes," Wonwoo said, his eyes following your every move.

You didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Instead, you massaged your leg, looking at him with a tired yet unfazed expression. "As if you had anything better to do after this," you replied, hitting on the fact that he had canceled all his plans for the evening the moment he received your email this morning.

He didn’t deny it. He had dropped everything, cleared his schedule, just to see you. Maybe to talk, maybe more. He wasn’t hoping for anything to happen tonight, but if it did... well, he wouldn't be complaining.

"So," you said, leaning back into the couch, confidence radiating from you. "What exactly do you want to clear up between us?"

Wonwoo mirrored your posture, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward. "I don't appreciate you framing me as some playboy," he said, his voice calm but firm. He wasn’t used to being talked about like that, especially not by someone who clearly affected him more than he’d like to admit.

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his accusation. "You’re not?" you asked, your tone teasing, as if daring him to deny it.

"I’m a very noble person," he replied, almost defensively. "I don’t mess around with lots of women, if that’s what you were implying."

You chuckled, the sound light and dismissive. "And that bothers you?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, it silenced Wonwoo. Did it bother him? It shouldn’t. But coming from you, it did. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because, deep down, he didn’t want you to see him that way.

"It shouldn’t," he admitted after a beat, his gaze locking onto yours. "But with you, it does."

Your expression softened, just for a second, before you smirked. "Interesting." You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. "So, what are you going to do about it, Mr. Jeon?"

Wonwoo felt his pulse quicken, but he kept his composure. He didn’t know how this conversation would end, but he knew one thing: you had him wrapped around your finger, and you probably knew it too.

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. It did bother him, more than it should. And he wasn’t sure why. Normally, he wouldn’t care what someone thought of him—especially not someone who seemed so determined to keep their distance. But with you, it was different. He didn’t like the way you saw him, the way you assumed he was just another rich man playing games.

But it wasn’t just that. You challenged him in a way that no one else had. You made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling, and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t ignore it.

Wonwoo leaned forward, his gaze intense as he closed the distance between you. "I think you like pretending you’re the one in control," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "But I don’t think you mind letting me show you otherwise."

He watched you closely, waiting for a reaction. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, maybe even desire—but you masked it quickly, crossing your legs slowly, as if to test his patience.

"Bold assumption, Mr. Jeon," you said, your tone light but your eyes never leaving his. "But I don’t hand over control easily."

Wonwoo’s lips curved into a smile, dark and full of intent. "Who said anything about easy?" He let his hand drift to your knee, his touch deliberate and slow, testing the waters. "I’m just suggesting we explore this... dynamic a little further. See where it takes us."

He moved closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as his breath brushed your ear. "Unless, of course, you’re afraid you might like what you find."

The tension between you thickened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wonwoo could feel his pulse quicken, the anticipation coiling inside him like a spring ready to snap. You were playing it cool, but he could tell you were thinking it over. There was something between you that neither of you could deny.

Finally, you leaned back into the couch, crossing your arms with that same infuriating confidence. "You seem so sure of yourself," you mused, your voice teasing. "But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into."

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding a little higher up your thigh, the touch now more intimate, more daring. "Then show me," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

The tension between you was electric now, the pull irresistible. He had no intention of walking away from this without exploring whatever it was that had ignited between you since that first night.

And from the way your gaze darkened as you leaned in slightly, he knew you felt the same.

Wonwoo’s arms tightened gently around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck as he whispered, "Stay..." You hesitated for a moment, your mind already on the exit, but the pull of his touch made you pause. There was something about his embrace that felt too inviting, too comfortable to resist.

The familiar warmth of his body pressed against yours, and without thinking, you leaned back into him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, a slow and deliberate motion that sent a subtle shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what it was that kept bringing you back here—to this very same room, to him—but the connection between the two of you was undeniable. It was never about love, but the chemistry was hard to ignore.

As his lips brushed your shoulder, you could feel the tension in the air, an unspoken invitation in the way his hand lingered on your waist. "I like this," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of you.

As you lay there, the memories of Seungcheol creeped back into your thoughts, despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. Your relationship with him had been all-consuming, something that once filled every corner of your heart and mind. It was hard to think about him without remembering how much he had demanded of you—emotionally, mentally, and even physically.

With Seungcheol, things had started out like a whirlwind. He was intense, driven, and passionate, and for a while, you were swept up in it. You thought that kind of intensity meant love, that his need for you, his constant presence, was a sign of something real and lasting. But slowly, the weight of it all became too much to bear. His passion turned into control, his love into expectations you couldn’t meet, and his presence became suffocating.

There were good times too, of course—moments where he made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him. But those moments were always fleeting, overshadowed by his demands. He wanted more than you could give, and in the end, you had nothing left to offer him.

The break-up had been brutal. Seungcheol didn’t understand why you were pulling away, and you couldn’t find the words to explain how drained you felt. He had taken so much from you, and by the time you walked away, you weren’t sure if you even knew how to love anymore.

Now, with Wonwoo, he didn’t demand anything from you. He didn’t ask for your heart, your promises, or your future. There was no pressure to be more than you were capable of being. It was a relief, but at the same time, it left you feeling hollow in a way you hadn’t expected.

You glanced over at Wonwoo as he lay beside you, his breathing slow and steady. He was so different from Seungcheol—calm, relaxed, and never overbearing. Yet, there was something about the way you kept coming back to him, something that felt just a little too easy, as though you were using him to fill a space that Seungcheol had left behind.

Maybe you were both just trying to avoid the emptiness, finding comfort in each other because it was simple. But deep down, you wondered if you were really healing or just hiding from the scars Seungcheol had left on you. The thought lingered as you closed your eyes, choosing once again to stay in the moment, avoiding the pain that lay beneath the surface.

"Are you leaving already?" Wonwoo’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his hand resting gently on your arm.

You looked over at him, meeting his eyes. There was a question there, but it wasn’t the kind that demanded an answer. He understood that whatever you had together wasn’t complicated.

You shook your head slightly. "No, I’ll stay a bit longer."

You met Seungcheol again for the first time in five years. He now owned his own advertising label, just like the dream he'd talked about so many years ago. Today, he had come to your father’s company, probably without expecting that he'd be working with you. After all, Seungcheol had never fully believed in your competence back then, so he certainly wouldn’t have expected to see you sitting across from him as one of the company’s directors.

You steeled yourself with every ounce of professionalism you could muster, trying to suppress the erratic pulse that betrayed how unsettled you truly were. During the meeting, when your eyes met briefly across the table, memories flooded back. You were reminded of why you loved him so deeply when you were together. He was charismatic, driven, and had a presence that was still undeniably captivating.

But the love that once shone in his eyes was gone. He had moved on, you'd heard. And it was best for him—best for both of you, perhaps. You forced yourself to focus, nodding to your secretary, silently willing the meeting to end as quickly as possible.

The moment it was over, you gathered your things and hurried out of the meeting room, heading toward your office. Your footsteps quickened with each step, eager to put distance between you and the past. But just as you turned the corner, a familiar hand reached out and caught your arm. It was Seungcheol.

"Hi... How are you? I didn’t expect to see you here," he said, his voice softer than you remembered.

You bit your lip, fighting to keep your composure. "Great..." you replied, pulling your arm away from his gentle grip, the contact sending a wave of emotions you'd tried to bury long ago.

Seungcheol seemed to realize what he'd done and quickly took a step back, giving you space. "I’m sorry," he said, his expression unreadable. "You must be busy. It was... nice to see you again, Y/n."

His words were polite, but there was a weight to them, a shared history that couldn’t be erased. You nodded, offering a brief smile before turning away, your heart racing from the brief encounter. The man who had once held all your love was now just another face from your past—a past that felt closer than it should.

Once the climax hit both you and Wonwoo, you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for air as your body trembled above him. His hands remained firmly on your hips, steadying you while the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. For a moment, neither of you moved, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air. Wonwoo’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he caught his breath, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin.

"It was the best yet," he finally murmured, a small smirk tugging at his lips, his voice low and satisfied. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your cheek as you lay against him, both of you basking in the aftermath of your shared experience.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words and the undeniable chemistry that always seemed to pull you back to him.

"You should ride me more next time," Wonwoo jested with a playful smirk, but his breath hitched slightly as you pulled away from him, the lingering sensation still sparking through him. He watched as you climbed out of bed without a word, fetching the bathrobe and slipping it over your bare skin.

As you walked to the couch and sat down, your eyes seemed distant, wandering as if lost in thought. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. Wonwoo propped himself up on his elbows, watching you intently. This wasn’t like you—the usual confident, carefree attitude that had defined your time together seemed to falter for the first time.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, a hint of curiosity mixed with concern in his tone. He couldn’t help but notice the shift, the way you suddenly seemed disconnected. It was the first time he'd seen you like this—guarded, almost as if you were somewhere else entirely.

Wonwoo stood up, slipping into his pants before making his way toward you. He sat beside you, gently cupping your cheeks as his thumb brushed against your skin. He could sense something was weighing on you, something that perhaps had fueled the raw emotion in the way you'd been with him earlier.

"You look so beautiful like this," he whispered, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. His eyes searched yours after the kiss, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what was really going on.

After a pause, you finally mumbled, "I realize... I'm changing so much." Your voice was soft, almost unsure.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch as he waited for you to continue. He knew there was more you needed to say.

"I'm so different from who I used to be," you confessed, your words almost a whisper. "I used to be so... pure. So used to being taken care of. I was needy, clingy. I didn’t understand things. And now... I don't like how I’ve become, like I’ve had to figure everything out on my own."

Wonwoo let out a sigh, his eyes never leaving yours. "Is it about us? Is that what's bothering you?"

You hesitated before answering, "One of them."

His grip on your face softened, his touch reassuring as he waited for you to unravel more of what was inside you. The rawness in your voice, the vulnerability, was something new between the two of you, and he wanted to understand.

"I've never done this with anyone..." you confessed quietly, your eyes dropping for a moment. "It’s amazing to be with you, Wonwoo. But I feel so hollow afterward. I feel... really bad. That’s why I always leave."

Wonwoo took your hand gently, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. "Because you don’t want to show me this side of you?" he asked softly, his voice calm but full of understanding. You took a deep breath, nodding in response.

"Are you going to let me go, Wonwoo? Like everyone else?" you asked, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Wonwoo shook his head firmly, his gaze steady on yours. "I’m not going anywhere, even if you ask me to. I’m stubborn like that, Y/n."

Relief washed over you as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thanks," you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Wonwoo tossed his keys onto the counter, his thoughts still swirling. He leaned against the kitchen island, trying to shake the feeling that had settled in his chest since you’d opened up to him. The more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him.

He had always been good at keeping things casual, knowing the boundaries of a no-strings relationship. But something about the way you looked at him tonight—the way you confessed how hollow you felt—stirred something deeper inside him. He didn't like seeing you in pain. He didn't like that you were dealing with it alone.

But what could he do? He wasn’t supposed to care this much. You two were just... enjoying each other, right? No commitments, no expectations.

Yet, for the first time, he felt something beyond that, a pull he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to be more than just your distraction, more than just someone to pass the time with. But at the same time, he knew crossing that line could complicate everything.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t deny the truth anymore: he wanted to be there for you, to be the person you leaned on. But would you let him? And more importantly, was he even ready to be that person?

Just as his mind raced, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His mother's name flashed across the screen, and he answered on the second ring, grateful for the distraction.

Their conversation flowed easily, as it always did, catching up on life, work, and updates on the family. But when she shifted to more personal matters, his stomach tightened.

"Every mother wants their daughter to meet you, Wonwoo. I had no idea my son was that popular." Her voice was filled with pride and a hint of amusement.

Wonwoo chuckled, deflecting with a light jest. “You raised an amazing man, mother.”

Her laugh came through the phone, warm and familiar. “Maybe it's time you meet one of them. A dinner wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

He paused, the suggestion hanging in the air. It was simple enough, really—meet someone new, go through the motions. And yet, it felt like a heavier decision than it should have been.

Maybe she was right. Maybe meeting someone else, taking a step back from you, would give him the clarity he needed. Maybe that was what he should do—slowly distance himself from this complicated entanglement.

But as he sat there, phone still pressed to his ear, something inside him hesitated.

Your presence was impossible for Wonwoo to ignore. You sat just a few tables away, speaking comfortably with a man whose face he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. In front of him sat Sung Yubin, a girl his mother had been eager for him to meet.

“Is the food to your liking?” Yubin asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts. Wonwoo quickly shifted his gaze from your table back to her, realizing only then that he had stopped chewing his steak, distracted by your presence.

“It’s great. Please, help yourself,” he responded politely, though his attention wandered back to you again. He tensed when he caught you looking back at him, though you quickly resumed your conversation with the man sitting across from you.

“I’m glad we could have dinner,” Yubin continued, unaware of his distraction. “The school lunch today was weird, so I ended up skipping it.” She was a senior nursing student, and while her conversation topics should have interested him, Wonwoo found himself nodding absently to her remarks. She wasn’t exactly his type—always rolling her eyes at the waitstaff and focusing more on trivial complaints.

After the meal, Wonwoo excused himself, claiming he had another engagement when Yubin hinted at wanting him to drive her home. Though a flicker of disappointment crossed her face, she seemed satisfied when he hailed a cab for her. As she left, Wonwoo felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Then, just as he was about to leave, he spotted you stepping out of the restaurant with the man from earlier. A third person, a woman, approached, and after a brief handshake, the man walked away with her, leaving you standing alone.

A small smile tugged at Wonwoo’s lips as your eyes met his again.

“I thought you were on a date,” Wonwoo teased, stepping closer to you.

“Because yours was?” you shot back with a smirk, fully aware that you were right.

He chuckled, “Wanna grab a beer?”

You hesitated only for a second before nodding, a quiet acknowledgment that whatever was between you two wasn’t over just yet.

“Who was that girl?” you asked as soon as you were seated at the bar, curiosity lacing your voice.

“Someone my mother wanted me to meet,” Wonwoo replied casually, his eyes scanning the menu. He raised his hand to order an expensive bottle of liquor for the both of you.

“I thought we were just going to grab a beer?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his choice.

Wonwoo shook his head with a small grin. “Gotta treat you to something good.”

“Oh, trying to show off that you’re rich?” you joked, and he nodded proudly.

“That’s my favorite thing to do around you,” he bantered back, making you chuckle.

When the drinks arrived, you both clinked glasses in an unspoken toast. Wonwoo took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on your reaction. He watched as you took a sip, your face lighting up with satisfaction, and a sense of relief washed over him. He’d made the right choice.

“So, that guy you were with earlier... do I know him?” Wonwoo asked, steering the conversation back.

“He’s Choi Seungcheol,” you said, a name that clicked in Wonwoo’s mind.

“From Ads Coups, right?” Wonwoo asked, recalling the name from some big industry moves. You nodded.

“Business dinner? Or a friend?” he pressed further.

You hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like you were debating whether to tell him the truth. But then you took a breath and said it.

“Both.”

Wonwoo’s expression didn’t change. He sat quietly for a moment, absorbing what you said, before you finally added the last piece.

“An ex.”

“I see…” Wonwoo nodded, acknowledging your words with a calmness that surprised even him. He didn’t press further, but the air between you suddenly felt a little heavier, a little more complicated than it had just moments before.

“Almost married him,” you confessed, a hint of irony in your voice. “But here I am… still being pampered by my mom to find someone.”

Wonwoo chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone in that.”

“At least you’re a good son,” you pointed out. “You actually meet the people your mom suggests. Meanwhile, I reject every single offer mine throws at me.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Tell me one name. Just one, that your mom wanted you to meet.”

Without missing a beat, you looked at him and said, “You.”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips. “My mom, my dad. They’re big fans of yours.”

He grinned, clearly amused. “Well, I feel honored,” he said with mock pride.

“So, why’d you reject me?” he teased, leaning in slightly. “I mean, why reject the offer?”

You shrugged casually. “Same reason I reject all of them. I don’t see the point in meeting people just because my mom wants me to. Even if they’re rich. I’m rich too.”

Wonwoo smiled and raised his glass toward you. “Here’s to rich men,” he said, with a playful glint in his eyes, including both of you in the toast.

You laughed, clinking your glass against his. “To rich men,” you echoed with a grin, the shared joke lightening the mood as you both enjoyed the comfortable banter.

Wonwoo looked at you in surprise. You want him to stay?

Just like the other day, the two of you had returned to the same hotel room, indulging in each other’s company. Wonwoo was about to fetch his pants, thinking you’d want to leave as usual. But this time, you surprised him.

“Hm... stay,” you mumbled, eyes closed. Wonwoo didn’t hesitate; he slipped back into bed, pulling your bare body close to him.

As you relaxed into his warmth, you murmured, “Wanna go on a trip with me?”

Wonwoo glanced down at you, curious. “When?”

“Earliest flight today. I want to go to Tokyo.” Your voice was soft, almost sleepy, but the spontaneity in your words caught him off guard. You sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but smile. Without a second thought, he grabbed his phone and texted his secretary to book the earliest flight to Tokyo for two.

“Let’s sleep. We still have a few hours,” he whispered, gently lulling you into rest.

The next morning, after landing in Tokyo, Wonwoo asked as you both walked out of the airport, “You’re okay with taking a sudden day off like this?”

“Using my my-dad-owns-the-company card for the first time won’t hurt anybody,” you replied with a casual shrug.

Wonwoo chuckled, amused by your carefree attitude. “So, where do you want to go after this?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist as the cab drove you to the hotel.

“Let’s see,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo smiled to himself, feeling your comfortable presence against him. He liked this—being with you like this, without overthinking or complicating things. Just living in the moment.

"Yeah," he thought to himself, "I really like this."

Wonwoo watched you, eyebrows furrowed, as you spoke to your mother on the phone. He found the interaction between the two of you amusing, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

"At my office?" you said, trying to keep your tone calm as your mother inquired about your whereabouts.

"Don't lie to me. I'm at your office," your mother shot back, and Wonwoo stifled a laugh as you closed your eyes in frustration.

"I'm in Tokyo for business," you finally admitted with a sigh.

"And you didn’t bring Chan with you?" your mother asked, referring to your secretary still at the office.

"I like being by myself," you replied, your tone measured. "Besides, Chan has things to handle for me back home."

"That’s why you need to start meeting men. How about Jeon Wonwoo? I mentioned him before," your mother insisted.

Wonwoo’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, and he raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ll think about it," you said, trying to end the conversation without drawing it out.

As soon as you hung up, Wonwoo, still intrigued, asked, "What was that all about?"

You casually took a sip of your coffee. "Just my mom trying to set me up with you."

A smirk spread across Wonwoo’s face. "I wish she knew what we’ve already done in bed—"

"Shut up!" You quickly covered his mouth before he could finish, your eyes wide with embarrassment.

Wonwoo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Why? Embarrassed to let anyone know how wild you were in the bedroom?"

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a spoonful of cheesecake and shoved it into his mouth to silence him, and he chuckled as he chewed, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You had spent the entire day together, enjoying the sights and sounds of Tokyo before deciding to fly back to Seoul the next morning. Wonwoo had taken you to all the places you’d been wanting to visit—arcades, restaurants, cafes, and even a clothing shop you had your eye on. By the time you both returned to the hotel, you collapsed on the bed, exhausted but satisfied.

When Wonwoo stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, he chuckled at the sight of you still sprawled out in the same position he left you.

"Go take a shower, you stink," he teased, playfully slapping your leg, making you groan as you slowly got up.

"I'm so happy but so tired. Tired but happy," you said, smiling through the exhaustion as you made your way into the bathroom.

After you’d showered and freshened up, you stepped out to find Wonwoo waiting for you at the table, a spread of food laid out.

"I ordered something," he said, motioning toward the dishes with a proud smile. "Figured you’d need some fuel after today."

Your stomach growled in response, and you sat down with a grateful sigh. "You always know exactly what I need."

Wonwoo chuckled, "Of course. Gotta keep you happy, even when you're tired."

You shared a quiet meal together, the comfortable silence between you speaking volumes as you savored both the food and the company.

"Jeon Wonwoo," you called his name softly, pulling his attention away from his phone.

He shifted his gaze to you, curious. "What’s on your mind?"

"Don’t you feel like I’m using you?" you asked, your tone surprisingly serious.

Wonwoo furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, trying to downplay the growing unease in your chest. "Because I only call you when I need you."

Wonwoo's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not using me. We’re both busy, me with my work, you with yours. That’s just how life is."

You looked down at your plate, not entirely convinced. "But don’t you feel like... like I'm taking advantage of you? Your ego—doesn’t it bother you?"

He paused, setting his utensil down carefully as he studied you. "Where's this coming from?" he asked gently.

You sighed. "I’ve just been thinking. Men are always talking about pride and ego. Doesn't it hurt yours?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he considered your words. "Is that why you've built up your own walls? To feel equal to men?" he asked thoughtfully.

"In business? Absolutely," you admitted. "It’s a constant power struggle, and I have to keep up."

He nodded, understanding. Then he smiled softly. "You know, my ego did take a hit when you left me cash that day. But today? Nah, I don’t feel anything but happy being with you. I’m not keeping score, Y/N."

You looked up at him, surprised. "Happy?"

"Yeah," he continued, leaning forward a little. "Being with you—it doesn’t feel like a game of who has more power. I’m just enjoying your company. So, no, I don’t feel used."

You smiled, finally letting yourself relax. "Thanks, Wonwoo."

He chuckled and raised his glass. "You overthink too much, you know that?"

As you clinked glasses with him, a thought crossed your mind. "What if... I told you I wasn’t looking for anything serious right now?"

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow but remained calm. "I’d say that’s fine. We don’t have to define anything right now. We can just be, you know?"

You nodded, comforted by his nonchalance. "That sounds... nice."

After a brief silence, Wonwoo leaned in again with a playful smirk. "But if you ever decide to make it serious, just know—I’ll still beat you in Mario Kart."

You laughed, the heaviness of the conversation finally lifting. "You wish."

For the rest of the night, the conversation stayed light, the tension between you fading away as easily as it had come.

Seungcheol had been everything to you when you first started. As an intern, you admired his dedication, his leadership, and the way he always seemed to know exactly what to do. He wasn’t just your manager; he became your mentor, teaching you the ropes in a way no one else had. You were eager to learn, even though you weren’t perfect—stumbling over presentations, sometimes missing the mark—but Seungcheol never made you feel small. Not at first.

He didn’t know who you really were. To him, you were just another intern, eager to climb the corporate ladder. It felt refreshing, in a way, to be seen for your efforts and not your last name. You soaked up everything he taught you, from strategic planning to how to carry yourself in high-stakes meetings. You admired him not just for his professional skills, but for the way he treated you—gently, yet firm when it came to work.

When he asked you out, it felt like everything was falling into place. You were growing in your career, and you had someone who believed in you by your side. Seungcheol was passionate about his own dreams too, talking endlessly about wanting to start his own advertisement company one day. You supported him, proud to see the ambition that had first drawn you to him. But then, things shifted.

After he resigned to pursue his dreams, something changed. He wanted you to leave the company and join him, to take a risk and build something together. But your responsibilities weighed on you, the expectations from your family were unavoidable. When you declined, Seungcheol didn’t take it well. He started subtly belittling your choice, acting as though staying in the company made you less bold, less ambitious.

The truth about your identity eventually came out, and that’s when the real cracks appeared. When Seungcheol found out you were the company heir, his pride took a hit. Your paychecks started outpacing his, your name held weight he could never match, and that, more than anything, stung him. He stopped seeing you as his equal, and instead, he saw you as a threat. He began making snide comments about your success, about how it wasn’t "earned" the way his was, how you had everything handed to you.

Your relationship with Seungcheol had changed you in ways you didn’t fully understand until much later. As the dynamic shifted, as his resentment grew, it left scars that ran deeper than you’d realized. You had loved him, truly, and for a while, you believed he loved you too. But the more success you found, the more he became a different person, someone who couldn't bear to see you surpass him.

It was like watching a man fall apart, piece by piece, under the weight of his own pride. He’d lash out, not always with words, but with the smallest gestures—a disapproving look, a dismissive comment. He stopped celebrating your wins, and instead, they seemed to remind him of his own perceived failures. The man you admired for his passion became someone who resented you for the very things that once made him proud. He had wanted you to be successful, but only as long as it didn’t eclipse him.

And you learned a painful truth from that relationship: that love, or at least the kind you’d experienced, was fragile. Men, as strong as they appeared when they were on top, could crumble when they felt they were losing control. It wasn’t just Seungcheol—it was the way he embodied this belief that men were only themselves when they were successful. When they stumbled, when they struggled, their pride and ego became brittle, breaking at the slightest challenge.

That relationship didn’t just end—it left you with a sense of distrust, of wariness. You’d given your heart to someone who couldn’t handle it when you started to grow beyond the version of yourself he was comfortable with. And that made you build walls, whether you intended to or not. You found yourself questioning every man’s intentions, wondering if they would also resent you when things didn’t go their way.

Seungcheol had stolen your capability to love freely. He’d left you with the belief that love was conditional, that it came with terms and conditions tied to power and success. Men, in your experience, wanted to be the center, to be the ones in control. And when they weren’t, they withered. They became smaller versions of themselves, unable to accept that you could be strong, capable, and successful without it taking anything away from them.

You stopped letting people in the way you once had. Sure, you dated, but it was different. Detached. You kept your guard up, unwilling to allow anyone the power to diminish you again. Every time you met someone, there was that lingering thought—what happens when they see the full extent of who I am? Will they shrink? Will they pull away like Seungcheol did?

Seungcheol hadn’t just hurt you—he’d left you with an image of men that was hard to shake. The ones who thrived when things were easy, but couldn’t handle the weight of your success. Men who were all pride and ego, fragile when the world stopped revolving around them. You didn’t want to think like that, but it was all you knew now.

"Your meeting with Jeon Wonwoo will be on Saturday. Make sure you actually come. And also, get dressed properly this time!" Your mother’s voice rang out as she adjusted her pearl necklace, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at her, incredulous. "I haven't even said yes yet," you shot back, folding your arms defensively.

But your mother merely smiled, clearly pleased with herself. "I met his mother at a gathering yesterday. We talked for quite a while, and she mentioned the last girl he met wasn't his type. I showed her your picture, and she said you might be exactly what he’s looking for."

"But Wonwoo and Y/n are friends," your father interjected, his voice calm but firm from the other end of the dining room.

"I know," your mother replied smoothly, waving her hand as if the detail was inconsequential. "But that doesn’t matter. The impression we make on his mother is what's important."

Your brow furrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "What’s wrong with me exactly? I’m fine. I’m a great woman," you retorted, trying to keep your cool.

Your mother sighed dramatically, setting down her tea cup with a delicate clink. "I just wish I had raised you to be a more polite and less...brash woman." She shrugged, as though the issue was that simple.

"Polite?" You raised an eyebrow, sarcasm creeping into your voice. "I say please and thank you. What more do you want?"

Your father chuckled softly from behind his newspaper, causing your mother to give him a quick, disapproving glance. He always found humor in your back-and-forths.

Your mother’s words hung in the air, sharp yet laced with a familiar disappointment. You could sense her frustration, but it only made you roll your eyes in response.

“Y/N, dear, you are a great woman. But sometimes I wonder if you care about your future at all.” She sighed again, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not asking for much—just meet him. Wonwoo’s a good man, and you two already know each other. It wouldn’t hurt to see if there’s something more there.”

You crossed your arms, still feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Wonwoo and I are friends. I don’t need you playing matchmaker with someone I already know.”

Your mother gave you a pointed look, as if she had already rehearsed her response to every argument you could throw her way. “Wonwoo’s mother agrees that it’s worth a shot. Besides, friendships can turn into something more. You’ll never know unless you try.”

Your father cleared his throat. “Maybe we should let Y/N make her own decisions about this. She’s capable of knowing what’s best for her.”

Your mother didn’t relent. “I just want the best for you. Wonwoo is successful, respectful, and comes from a good family. That’s a strong foundation, isn’t it?”

“Fine, I’ll go,” you finally said, more out of a desire to end the conversation than genuine interest. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Your mother beamed, already envisioning some grand future for you and Wonwoo. “That’s all I ask.”

As you excused yourself from the table, you couldn’t help but think about Wonwoo and how bizarre it would be to approach him under these new terms. Would he know about the setup? Or would this just be another awkward encounter orchestrated by your families? Either way, it was bound to be interesting.

Your walls clenched tightly around Wonwoo as he thrust into you with raw passion, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his back, leaving streaks of red as he found just the right spot over and over again. Moans spilled from your lips, growing louder with each movement as his pace quickened.

"What do you think our moms would say if they knew what we're doing right now instead of having that proper dinner?" Wonwoo's voice was a breathless whisper against your ear, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as his rhythm deepened.

You could hardly think, let alone speak, but somehow you managed to find the breath to reply, "They'd be thrilled... their kids are trying to give them grandkids." You shot back, your voice hitching with every thrust.

Your words clearly hit him harder than you anticipated. Wonwoo's cock twitched inside you, the mere thought of you carrying his child driving him wild in ways he hadn’t expected. His eyes darkened with lust, and his pace became even more relentless, the idea of you pregnant with his baby stirring something primal within him.

"Do you want that?" Wonwoo growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hips snapped against yours, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Tell me. Do you want it?"

The feeling of his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again had your mind spinning, your body trembling as the orgasm started to build in your core. You could barely hold yourself together, your breath coming in shallow gasps. "Fuck, Wonwoo... Don’t you dare... I'm so close... I'm cumming!" you managed to cry out, your body tightening around him.

Wonwoo’s grip on your hips tightened as he groaned against your neck. "I got you, baby," he whispered, and with a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you both tumbled over the edge together, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, riding out the high, his forehead pressed against yours as you both panted heavily. The air between you was thick with the afterglow, the heat of your bodies mingling together in the quiet aftermath.

"My mother said she wants to see me with a woman like you," Wonwoo said softly during aftercare, his gentle hands carefully wiping your body clean with a warm towel.

You leaned against his shoulder, too tired to sit up straight, and replied, "Everyone wants their son to be with a woman like me." Your voice was teasing, lightening the mood in the quiet aftermath.

Wonwoo chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Sure, you're an amazing woman—with amazing tits," he added with a playful grin.

You laughed at his words, playfully slapping his arm in mock indignation. He scooped you up effortlessly and carried you from the bathroom to the bed, tucking you under the soft duvet with a tender smile. After quickly cleaning himself, he joined you, sinking into the warmth beside you.

"Have you ever imagined the two of us together? Like officially together?" You asked, your eyes fluttering open to meet his, curiosity shining in your gaze. Your hand instinctively found its way to his arm, linking with him as if seeking reassurance.

"Every time happiness comes to me while I'm with you," Wonwoo replied, his voice low and sincere, "I always think about how wonderful it would be to share that happiness with you forever."

You turned to face him, your surprise evident in your wide eyes. "Okay, that was deeper than I expected."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing softly against your forehead in a sweet gesture. "I told you I'm a romantic man."

"You are," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as warmth blossomed in your chest.

As you nestled against him, a thought crossed your mind, and you mumbled, “What if we made this official? You know, like really official?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in surprise, and a grin broke across his face, lighting up his features. “Are you serious?” he asked, his excitement palpable. “You’re not just saying that?”

You felt a rush of warmth at his reaction and nodded, your heart racing. “Yeah, I mean… why not? We get along so well, and I like being with you. I think we could make a real go of it.”

His smile grew even wider, and he pulled you closer, almost lifting you off the bed with enthusiasm. “This is amazing! I’ve been hoping you’d say something like that. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

You chuckled softly, caught up in his excitement. “Really? I thought you had a whole parade of girls wanting to date you.”

“Maybe, but none of them are you,” he said, his voice serious now, making your heart flutter. “You’re special, Y/N. You make me happier than I ever expected.”

You smiled, feeling a mix of shyness and elation. “So, are we officially together then?”

“Absolutely!” Wonwoo exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I can’t believe this is happening. You have no idea how happy this makes me.” He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss, sealing the promise of your new relationship.

As he pulled back, he looked deep into your eyes. “I’m going to make you so happy, I swear. No more casual—it’s all in from here on out.” His excitement was contagious, and you felt a thrill of anticipation for what the future might hold for the two of you.

You walked with confidence in a beautiful dress that hugged your figure perfectly. Wonwoo’s hand rested comfortably around your waist as he strolled beside you, flashing charming smiles to everyone you both passed. You couldn’t help but feel proud of each other, relishing the chance to show off your blossoming relationship.

“Look at this power couple!” your mother exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight. You rolled your eyes playfully at her statement, knowing how thrilled she was about your relationship with Wonwoo after the so-called first meeting she had arranged a year ago. Now, you were here with him as his girlfriend at the company’s anniversary party.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ji. You look beautiful as always,” Wonwoo greeted your mother, bowing politely to both of your parents.

“Wonwoo, how are you? I hope Y/N isn’t being a pain in the ass, is she?” your father asked with a teasing tone, treating him differently now that he was your boyfriend.

“In no way could an amazing woman like me be a pain in the ass,” you mumbled loud enough for them to hear, a smirk on your face. Wonwoo chuckled at the light banter you shared with your parents before excusing himself to meet his friend, Kim Mingyu, who also happened to be your cousin.

“So, how’s the plan for tonight?” Mingyu asked Wonwoo, raising an eyebrow knowingly as he referred to his friend’s intentions to propose.

“I’m so nervous I could die,” Wonwoo confessed, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Mingyu laughed, clearly amused by the new layer of vulnerability that Wonwoo was showing. “Don’t worry, she’ll appreciate everything you do,” he reassured, clapping Wonwoo on the back.

“I hope so,” Wonwoo replied, glancing over at you with a soft smile. The anticipation was palpable, and you could feel the excitement in the air. With each passing moment, you were both drawing closer to an unforgettable evening that could change everything.

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imloyaltoscoups · 4 months ago

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after shower | jeon wonwoo

You were sitting on the floor, your back resting against the couch, idly scrolling through your phone. The air smelled faintly of soap and shampoo, and you glanced up just in time to see Wonwoo walking out of the shower, the way his white shirt clung to his still-drying skin made your heart race.

He walked over and sat beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he began wiping his glasses with a small cloth. You couldn't help but stare, your head tilting slightly against the couch as you admired him.

Wonwoo looked effortlessly handsome—his defined jawline, the way his lips pressed together in thought as he cleaned his glasses, the droplets of water trailing down his neck. It was too much to handle.

Noticing your gaze, he raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He placed his glasses on the table, setting the cloth aside before turning his full attention to you.

“What?” he asked, his voice low and teasing as he leaned forward, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

You didn’t answer, your breath catching as he closed the distance between you. His hand came to rest on the floor beside you, his face mere inches away. Your heart raced in anticipation, and you waited, your lips slightly parted.

Then, finally, he kissed you. You kissed him back immediately, your hand moving to his neck as you deepened the kiss. Your tongue ran along his bottom lip, silently asking for entrance.

Wonwoo chuckled softly against your lips, the sound low and almost smug, before parting them to let you in. The kiss quickly shifted as he took control, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that left you literally breathless.

You whimpered softly, your fingers tightening in his damp hair as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. His hand found its way to your waist, steadying you as he continued to dominate.

When you pulled back slightly to catch your breath, his lips didn’t stray far, brushing against yours as he whispered, “You really can’t resist me, can you?”

You pouted, your cheeks warm as you muttered, “You’re the one who kissed me first.”

Wonwoo smirked, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline. “And you didn’t exactly stop me,” he teased, leaning in to steal another kiss.

When he's done, he leaned back slightly, still close enough that his breath brushed against your lips. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he tilted his head, studying your flushed face.

“I guess you found me pretty handsome, huh?” he said, his tone smug yet teasing.

You scoffed, trying to look away, but his hand gently cupped your chin, turning your face back toward him. “Don’t even try to deny it,” he added, his smirk deepening. “I caught you staring.”

Your cheeks burned, and you playfully swatted at his chest, though it lacked any real force. “You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, trying to ignore how good he looked sitting there with his freshly showered glow.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying how flustered you’d become. “I mean, can you blame me? You’re practically drooling over me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Maybe just maybe.. you’re a little handsome,” you admitted hesitantly.

“A little?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow and leaning in closer, his face just inches from yours again. “Is that really all you’ve got to say after staring at me like that?”

You huffed, and raised both of your hands. “Okay, okay. You’re extremely handsome. Happy now?”

His grin turned softer but no less smug as he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Very,” he said, his voice low and full of satisfaction. “But I think I need to hear you say it again. Just to make sure.”

Before you could protest, he kissed you once again, effectively cutting off any of your response with a laugh that rumbled against your lips.

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

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joonsytip · 8 days ago

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Beyond the Transcripts || Wonwoo [Teaser]

Pairings: Ceo!Wonwoo x Legal Head!Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, exes to co-parents to lovers au, second chances au.

Synopsis: Jeon Wonwoo, the calmest and untainted CEO to ever exist, gets his world shaken up when he finds you as the legal department head at his own company and your only registered family is a little guy who resembles him a bit too much.

Alternatively, you are smooth in onboarding Wonwoo into your son's life but problems arise when he tries to slide back into yours.

Warnings: Themes of co parenting, mentions of past difficult pregnancy, misogynistic slurs being used at workplace, minor accident, profanities, heartbreak, secret identity, workplace jargons.

Drop Date: Anyday next month.

Check out the masterlist for THAT'S SHOWBIZ, BABY! Please support all the amazing writers white putting up so much effort!

Thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin, Ally for coming up with this beautiful banner (even after I ate her ears off and made her do several banners for this one), I'm really grateful!

TAGLIST is open, send an ask/comment to be added.

At the sound of the door closing, your gaze lifts.

Wonwoo walks towards you, in large but steady strides, just as you have remembered. He stands in front of you, at a distance. Your gazes meet and the time stops.

Wonwoo hasn't changed much, his eyes hold the same depth. He, you assume, still likes his hair side parted with locks clipped so they don't fall on his face. The scent of the same perfume lingers in the air, the one which he had always claimed as his signature. The frame of his glasses aren't geometric anymore, he goes with pilot nowadays.

And before your mind could trace back on the memory lane deeper, you decide to slip into the momentum.

Because, he's the man, who had broken your heart, had left you alone to pick up the pieces on your own.

“Mr. Jeon”, you bow to him, giving a small smile. Your heart beats erratically, as you continue to speak, “You must be busy so I won't take much of your time.”

The title you call him by is foreign to Wonwoo's ear. It always used to be strings of sickly sweet nicknames.

He watches the changes time has brought upon you. You no longer seem like the carefree law major from back then. You, no longer are the girl who'd cry over smallest things, speak the first thought that comes to your mind.

While Wonwoo loses touch with the current predicament, you line up several documents on his desk in specific order.

It's exacting because you used to know him so well, maybe even now if he hasn't emerged entirely as a different person. You see the way his eyes are on you but the dilated pupils give away the fact that he's running miles in his head.

So you wait, wait for him to come back to the present, to this moment.

And he does, a few minutes later. You can tell it by the way his gaze locks into yours right away, his lips curling down in slightest.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

His voice strikes a chord in your heart, before it reaches your ear. The voice that you used to love so much, the voice that sung you to sleep on restless nights, the same voice which called when your name, it summoned your soul.

Years of preparation goes down in the trench as you're about to break down at the first set of words you hear from him.

But you can't, you're not the same vulnerable Y/N, who used to strip bare in front of her lover.

“I think we have more important matters to discuss, Mr. Jeon.”, you speak through your gritted teeth.

“But you promised you'd answer all my questions.”, Wonwoo reminds you calmly.

“And this is what you want to know?”

“Out of all things, first and foremost, yes this is what I want to know.”

You find it ironic. Trapped in by his words, you answer truthfully, “I just can't sum up everything but I have been holding it in, thanks to Wonjae.”

Wonwoo perks at the mention of your son's name, well his as well.

“The first document is about me as Wonjae’s legal guardian, consenting to you conduct a DNA test.”, your gaze is gentle as you point at the bunched papers, “I don't want any questions, any fingers raised at my son in future.”

“But I don't–”

“I request you to conduct one.”

Your sharp tone shuts up Wonwoo completely, though not willing, he nods.

His gaze sweeps across the rest of the document which promotes him to ask, “What are the rest of these documents for?”

Your eyes turn somber. You've studied law, practised it. You know all the nooks and crannies and you're a mother who is raising her son against all odds.

“The second document is a contract that states that if you don't want to be associated with Wonjae then the fact that he’s your son will be concealed and never brought up by me. If I ever do so”, you turn the pages and show him the space left blank, “You can fill up the breach statement and penalties in this section, I have left it blank.”

Wonwoo gapes at you in disbelief, “What do you think you're trying to pull here?”, he speaks in a low tone but you can hear the agitation ringing in it, “What do you think of me, Y/N?”

You don't deem it necessary to answer his questions and proceed further to explain the contents of the last document.

“If you have any concerns about me working in your company and see me as a threat or identify me as someone who has the potential of stirring up trouble then you can ask me to resign but under the conditions that I work here until I find another job.”, your attitude has shimmered down from being hyper to nonchalant, now that you have done your part.

Wonwoo observes you in disbelief and at himself in distaste because he's the reason behind the version you are currently showcasing.

“Also, I have prepared the clauses for custody just in case you're willing to share responsibilities in future. I'll bring it to you if you decide to be a part of Wonjae's life.”

You say terms, speak things all in legal language and Wonwoo just listens.

“I would have suggested you to run these documents by your legal team to cite any negotiations or catch any flaws but unfortunately, it would mean that I'd be the person you'll need to work with.”, you smile sardonically, “So it would be better if you contact someone who's not affiliated to this company.”

He wonders if things would have been different if he stayed and in the midst of the storm that whirlwinds in his head, he asks, “Why didn't you tell me that you were pregnant?”

What a simple question to ask. But are all questions meant to have an answer?

“Would you have stayed?”

Silence falls upon.

You give him a knowing smile, “Just when you were leaving, I asked you something, do you remember?”

Yes, he remembers, all of it. The way you had chased him to the station, your face wet, eyes bloodshot from crying. The way you just stood in front of him, mumbling the last question you had as the train entered the platform.

“What if I have something important to tell you, something that could change our lives? Would it make you stay?”

“There’s nothing left to salvage. Nothing's gonna stop me from leaving. This is the end for us.”

It answers his previous question. It makes sense now, he didn't only leave you, he had abandoned his unborn child as well.

Some fences cannot be mended, some bridges can't be cemented. Just like this relationship, which once bloomed beautifully, is now wilted.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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minniesfiles · 3 months ago

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OPERATION WONWOO: CALM DOWN MY GIRLFRIEND

In which Wonwoo tries to comfort his overly dramatic girlfriend after his enlistment news came out.

❧ PAIRING; wonwoo x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff, humour

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; established relationship, idol wonwoo, tears, humour, fluff, topic of enlistment

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.1k

𐚁₊⊹

▍5 MARCH 2025

Wonwoo never considered himself as a particularly emotional person. He was rational, practical, and logical. None of which, apparently, applied to you, who was currently curled up in a blanket burrito on his sofa, sobbing like he just told you he was moving to the moon.

He sighed while standing over you with his arms crossed. “Babe, you’re being ridiculous.”

You lifted your head from the blanket pile, eyes red and puffy. “I am not,” you wailed. “You’re leaving me for eighteen months, Wonwoo. That’s, like, a lifetime in relationship years.”

“That’s not how time works.”

“You don’t care about my suffering at all!” you sniffled dramatically.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and shifted his weight as he continued watching you spiral into despair. “Okay, first of all, I’m not leaving you. I’m literally just going to work. Second, I’m not even doing active duty. I’m doing an alternative service because, in case you forgot, my eyesight is so bad that the government won’t even trust me with a gun and is making me do a desk job instead.”

“Still counts” you hiccupped mid-sob.

“Does it?”

“Yes” you crossed your arms, glaring at him. “You’ll still be gone, and I’ll still be alone, and — oh my God, what if you get super buff and realise you don’t love me anymore?”

Wonwoo blinked. “I’m literally going to be working in an office.”

“So? What if lifting all those papers gives you arm muscles?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “First of all, paper isn’t that heavy. Second, even if I did somehow get buff, I wouldn’t stop loving you.”

You let out a dramatic huff. “How do I know that for sure?”

Wonwoo stared at you for a long moment before answering, “Because if I was going to leave you, it would’ve been when you made me watch that thirty-episode historical drama just so you could cry over it.”

You gasped, clutching your chest like he physically wounded you. “You said you liked it!”

“I lied.”

You let out a strangled noise, then flopped back onto the sofa. “I knew it! I’m already losing you.”

Wonwoo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Babe, I’ll be home every night. The only difference is that I won’t be promoting with the members for a while. That’s it.”

You sniffled again and gripped the blanket tighter. “It’s not just that! I won’t get to see you perform, or travel with your members, or do all the cute idol boyfriend things—”

He raised an eyebrow. “When have I ever done cute idol boyfriend things?”

“Okay, fine, Jeonghan does cute idol boyfriend things. But that’s not the point!” you huffed, sitting up to glare at him.

“The point is, I won’t get to see you in your element. I won’t get to watch you perform on stage, and I won’t get to hear you talk about making music with your members. You love being with them.”

He frowned slightly at that, because — well, you weren’t wrong.

It would be weird not promoting as a Seventeen member, not spending every day surrounded by the usual chaos and comfort of his group. He would miss standing on stage. He would miss the adrenaline of performing, the way the members bickered, the way Carats screamed their names with so much love.

But, at the end of the day, he would still be home.

Wonwoo let out a sigh and sat down beside you, resting a hand on your knee. “I get it. I’ll miss all of that too,” he admitted.

“But it’s not forever. And honestly? I’d rather be at home with you every night than stuck in a training camp running laps at five in the morning.”

“I feel like you’re just saying that to make me feel better” you pouted.

“Maybe. But it’s also true” he smirked.

“You think I’d rather be sweating in a field somewhere when I could be home with you, eating ramen and watching bad dramas?”

You hesitated. “…That does sound better.”

“Exactly.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “But what if you change?”

“What do you mean?” your boyfriend frowned.

“What if, after eighteen months, you don’t love me the same way?” your voice was quieter now, and your usual dramatic energy was replaced by something more vulnerable.

His chest ached at the sight of you, and the way you curled into yourself like you were trying to brace for impact.

“Baby,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You don’t know that” you mumbled, biting your lip.

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “You think I’m going to go to work, file some paperwork, and suddenly forget how much I love you?”

“Maybe there’s a really hot co-worker with perfect vision who loves books as much as you do” you shrugged.

Wonwoo gave you deadpan look. “First of all, I can barely see people’s faces without my glasses, so your imaginary rival isn’t even a threat. Second, no one could ever be you.”

“You promise?” you sniffled.

“I swear on my terrible eyesight.” That finally got a small laugh out of you, and Wonwoo felt some of the tension ease from his chest.

“Besides,” he added, smirking. “If anything, you should be more worried about Jeonghan stealing me away while I’m gone.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I knew it. He’s been trying to seduce you for years.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “you have no idea.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and flopped against him. “Fine. I’ll let you go.”

“Oh? You’re giving me permission now?”

“Yes,” you sniffed. “But only if you compensate me properly.”

“And how exactly do I do that?” Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

You perked up. “A life-sized body pillow with your face on it.”

Wonwoo groaned. “Not this again.”

“You owe me emotional damages” you crossed your arms.

“I’m not getting you a body pillow.”

“Then I’ll just make my own,” you threatened.

Wonwoo sighed, rubbing his temples. “Okay, how would you even do that?”

“Print a giant picture of your face, tape it to a pillow, and boom. DIY boyfriend” you smirked.

“You have issues” he stared at you.

“I have needs” you corrected.

Wonwoo shook his head in defeat. “Fine. I’ll send you so many selfies that you’ll get sick of my face.”

You gasped. “Never.”

“You’re ridiculous” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“And yet, here you are, cuddling me instead of telling me to stop.”

“Unfortunately” your boyfriend sighed dramatically. You gasped and smacked his chest. “Take that back!”

“Nope” he grinned mischievously.

You huffed, but your arms tightened around him. “Ugh. You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are, crying over me leaving.”

“Shut up and let me be sad. And you’re not exactly leaving, remember?” you sniffled.

Wonwoo chuckled, squeezing you gently. “Alright baby. Be as sad as you want.”

a/n; dreading the almost 2 years of Wonwoo drought icbbb

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moonlightwonu · 7 months ago

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전원우 // Jeon Wonwoo Fic Recsᡣ𐭩

나에게 어떤 슬픔도 없는 세상은 너니까~

Main Recs Masterlist

➣Part I // Part II

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“Play Again” by @shuarush

Fem!reader || Friends to coworkers to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mild angst || W.C: 37.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･after ten years of not seeing your high school crush you find yourself partnered with him at the company you work for. Since you've been rejected before, you try your best to not let any feelings flourish, but Jeon Wonwoo's charms make that attempt especially hard for you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Underlying Pretense” (Part of the Game Over series) by @lovelyhan

Fem!reader || Streamer au, enemies to lovers, smut, fuck buddies || W.C: 10.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･being two of the most popular streamers across the board, your subscribers often speculate if your constant bickering with wonwoo has some underlying pretense. little did they know, the two of you have everything on display on a single, unsuspecting twitter account.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Favorite Poison” (Part of the Game Over series) by @/lovelyhan

Fem!reader || Streamer au, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, fuck buddies || W.C: 15.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･no strings attached sex is easy. catching feelings for a person you supposedly hate is hard. it's in times like this when wonwoo wishes he can set the dial to his life on easy mode forever, but everyone knows he's nothing if not stubbornly competitive.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Endpoint” by @highvern

Fem!reader || Uni TA au, FWB to idiots to lovers, fluff, smut, angst || W.C: ~19.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Senior year of college is meant to be full of celebration and smooth sailing. Years of work culminating in the final semesters that will send you off into the real world where clubs, sports, and weekends packed with hungover volunteering to pad your resume no longer mattered. It’d be a piece of cake if it wasn’t for your fuck buddy turned coworker having the same plan. But only one of you can get the department’s most coveted recommendation that all but guarantees your acceptance. Tension rises and the nearly four year thing you’ve had with Wonwoo approaches its endpoint.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Heart of the Sea” by @/highvern

Fem!reader || Pirate au, Royalty au, Angst, Romance, Adventure || W.C: 22k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“34.6037° S, 58.3816° W” by @the-boy-meets-evil

Fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, angst || W.C: ~22.8k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“HER” by @chocosvt

[Series] || fem!reader || Uni au, slowburn, strong angst, drama, romance, smut || Total W.C: 140k || Parts: 6 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Payment Due” by @solarwonux

Fem!reader || Uni au, sexworker au, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 56.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･HYBE U one of the top highly prestigious universities in the country. A shit hole, a total money making scam that liked to sucked the life out of its students. Not being able to meet the funds to pay for your tuition your best friend lets you in a little secret. A way he’s been keeping afloat for years now, easy money. The problem is you want in.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Cats and Coffee for Two” by @multi-kpop-fanfics

Fem!reader || Coworkers to lovers, fluff, comedy, smut || W.C: 12.2k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Job hunting is a tough sport and Wonwoo has experienced it to its core. One fine autumn day comes where he's finally free from the shackles of unemployment, but he will soon find himself in the shackles of coffee, tea and cat hairs, But most importantly, he will have to share these shackles with you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Flower” by @wonwoonlight

Fem!reader || Exes to coworkers au, angst, slice of life, fluff || W.C: ~13k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Wanna be yours” by @viastro

Gn!reader || Uni au, childhood friends to strangers to loversish, angst, fluff, humor || W.C: ~9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･you thought that growing up as best friends meant you’d stick together for as long as you could. you never thought of that exact chance for you and wonwoo until entering university, where you were nothing but his driver when he was out partying for too long. so why do you still pick up the phone when he calls you if he’s the one who left first?

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“Twisted Fate” by @smileysuh

Afab!reader || Vampire au, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, smut || W.C: 14.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･“He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“My Way to You” by @/wonwoonlight

[Series] || fem!reader || heir/heiress au, best friends to lovers, fluff, drama, angst || Total W.C: ~47k || Parts: 13(+1 epilogue) || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･You don’t remember a time when you don’t have Wonwoo by your side. But when things happen and you’re left to deal with your feelings, you can’t help but wonder if what you have with him can be framed under the name of friendship after all. or, alternatively, Wonwoo’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember and he doesn’t know if he should be thankful or not that you’ve never suspected him for it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“By the Moon” by @/wonwoonlight

Werewolf au, fantasy au, angst, fluff, hurt comfort, action, suggestive || W.C: ~18k

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✮

“All My Love” by @pepperonidk

[Series] || Fem!reader || High School au, fluff || Parts: 10 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him. (alt. jeon wonwoo is mr. darcy incarnated… a fumbling nerd turned popular kid)

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

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ddeonghwa-s · 5 months ago

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moonlight greed .ᐟ.ᐟ

wonwoo, standing in the moonlight, admiring you; his sleeping stepsister.

꒰୨୧꒱— jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

꒰୨୧꒱— wc is approx. 1.2k

꒰୨୧꒱— genre : smut (mdni)

꒰୨୧꒱— cw : male masturbation, perversion

꒰୨୧꒱— tw : stepcest, somnophilia, morally questionable (arguably fucked) and perverted wonwoo, half-naked reader

꒰୨୧꒱— notes : in this fic wonwoo is fucked! pls know this behavior is not anything i condone or actually associate with wonwoo :)

it's a little after midnight when wonwoo finally eases your bedroom door all the way open.

your room is, of course, dark. he can't see the papers that undoubtedly litter the desk he put together for you; can't see the details of the posters you had stuck against the popcorn walls in an attempt to inject your personality into the room.

wonwoo had objected to some of the posters at first. the prints of pink tulips and baby blue bows and kittens; it was all too much for wonwoo, whose own room was a classic combination of black, grey, and black.

but he'd do anything for you, just like a good stepbrother would.

and this is how he justifies sneaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night.

your room is dark, but the faintest sliver of silver moonlight peers through the curtains. it doesn't help a lot — doesn't allow wonwoo to see the fine details of things — but it helps just enough.

luck is, wonwoo thinks, on his side in that case.

the silver light lets wonwoo eye your sleeping figure greedily. he is able to make out the shape of your body, the line of it against your bed. you had discarded most of your blanket, too hot to be burrowed underneath it as you usually were — no thanks to luck this time; wonwoo had thumbed the thermostat to a higher temperature during your nightly shower. your blanket lay against your hips, hiding your legs from his sight.

your blanket does not hide the rest of you.

wonwoo can see the line of your torso and head. he can see your sleeping face turned towards the ceiling; your hand tucked rather awkwardly, in wonwoo's opinion, behind your back;

your tits, deliciously illuminated by that beautiful silver moonlight.

you had, whether consciously or in your sleep, rucked your tank top up over your tits. it conceals half of one of them, does nothing to hide the other. and so wonwoo can stare all his fill. l

your nipples are not perked at attention, the temperature of the room warm enough to soothe your skin from any gooseflesh, to keep your nipples from hardening. your tits are pressed against your body from gravity, a stark picture from one of the scenes that constantly replay in wonwoo's mind of you bending over in a low-cut shirt that allowed him to feast on your tits as they hung, gravity perfectly showing the full bulge of them for his depraved, perverted mind.

still: wonwoo feels the blood pool at his gut, feels his cock harden and balls tug in his joggers.

you are asleep. you feel safe, here in wonwoo's apartment — your safety, as a matter of fact, was the number one reason why your father pushed for you to move in with wonwoo; you'd be safe here, your father had said; wonwoo would protect you.

and here he was, sliipping his hand down over his thickening bulge, palming at the base of his dick through his joggers.

you are safe, wonwoo thinks as he watches your tits rise and fall with every breath you take. you are safe in his home from the harsh elements of outside, from rain or thunder or wind, from opportunists and scums who would take advantage of you.

the silver light bathes you; your face is calm, devoting itself to the peaceful world you slumber in.

wonwoo slips his hand underneath the tight band of his joggers. his dick, when he touches it, jumps in his hand. he wants to fuck something, wants it so badly.

wonwoo draws his hand along the length of his cock, thumb trailing. he fists the head of his cock, eyes greedily roaming over your tits, sliding over your stomach.

he digs his thumb into his sensitive cockhead. wonwoo winces at the pleasure-pain that shoots through him at the sensation, tightening his fist around his dick, chasing that pain further.

wonwoo's balls are tight against him as he begins to fuck his fist. he was brisk with it, no finesse; he wants to cum, wants to feel that electric bubble of heat burst within him.

it would be better, wonwoo thinks fleetingly, if he could cum in your tight little pussy.

because he knows it would be tight; that your cunt would be hot and wet.

every part of you is perfect, so that, too, wonwoo logically surmised, would be heaven.

even this, wonwoo thinks as he stands in the entry way of your bedroom with you sound asleep with your tits on display, is a piece of heaven. he's allowed to look and look without distraction, and fuck —

if he doesn't look.

wonwoo doesn't fuck his hips to his hand, instead bringing his fist back to strike against his groin, the dull slapping sound of skin against skin, fist against groin, filling the quiet room.

his balls throb; his dick hurts.

wonwoo wants to cum so badly. he wants to watch his cum shoot out and stain your skin. he wants to watch his cum paint the walls of your cunt, watch it ooze from your cute little hole and drip down onto the bed. wonwoo would love to see his cum on your face, too; love to see it shoot across your lips and nose and cheeks, see your face of surprise.

he thinks about it, eyes straining through the darkness to focus on your nipples, to memorize the shape of them in the hope of imagining his lips around them later. wonwoo thinks about you on your knees in front of him, eyes squeezing shut, mouth open and tongue stuck out with his white cum pearling so beautifully.

wonwoo cums into his pants with a grunt. the wetness of it makes his joggers stick uncomfortably. his dick feels horribly sensitive as he walks from your room with his cock still tucked inside.

he goes to the thermostat; lowers it.

wonwoo moves to his room. he switches on the light, knowing his sweet thoughts don't deserve to take root in the darkness.

he grabs one of his blankets off of his bed, shaking it out.

with his pants still sticking to him from his cum, wonwoo moves back to your room. the air conditioning kicks on, and he can feel the draft almost immediately, the skin on his arms pebbling.

he doesn't bother being quiet.

wonwoo edges around your bed, hands finding the corners of the blanket. he fluffs it out, draping it over your form, concealing your tits from his eyes.

you furrow your brows. your eyes flutter open, lips pressed into a pout with the soft anger of an angel being disrupted from sleep.

"turned down the ac," he says, tucking the blanket around your shoulders. wonwoo continues to press the blanket underneath your frame, pushing it snugly to your form. "you'll be cold."

you smile at him, shifting in your bed. "thanks, wonie," you mumble, eyes already shutting.

wonwoo shuts your bedroom door behind him, closing you and the silver light behind him, protecting you once again.

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kissbyoon · 4 months ago

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( 🎧 ) . ݁₊ “LOVELY BOYFIE!”

╰┈ Wonwoo can fight anyone! Even his own miniteen plush.

₍ 𝑓𝘵. ₎ 𓈒 원우 ˶ fluff, est. relationship * skinship, reader being moody, cutie wonu ⎯⎯ 1.1k ꒱ ✦ bf!wonu x f!reader

♪ A/N : I don't think my words are enough to express how adorable this man is !? | FOXDUNGEE UGH MY CUTIE PIE.

Dragging your feet along the wooden carpeted floor, you made noises of distress.

You throw yourself on the couch with a loud thud─causing your boyfriend to call out in concern.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Hearing this, you immediately turn your head, expecting him to finally walk out of his room into the broad daylight—only to be disappointed.

Wonwoo had been in his personal office, gaming and gaming the whole day. To be fair, you shouldn't be bothered right now because he has spent the entire last two days with you, without any distractions. But that doesn't mean he has to be sitting in that same chair and game for literally six hours.

“I'm not okay.” Your tone feigned nonchalance, followed by a scoff that Wonwoo didn't fail to pick up. You could hear some shuffling, but also knew it wasn't him standing up from that damn seat.

“Just five more minutes, okay?” your boyfriend shouted from his office, and you didn't bother to reply because he had been saying that for God knows how many times now. Instead, you get up and head towards your shared bedroom—hoping to pass the time by scrolling through your phone.

As you enter, you're immediately hit by the familiar scent of Wonwoo. It wasn't a surprise. He stays in the bedroom for the whole day, and sometimes even replaces your side of the bed with his.

Sighing with disappointment, you lay down on your bed and reach out for your phone. But as you look at the screen, it flashed with a picture of Foxdungee—wonwoo’s miniteen plushie. You notice it wasn't yours, but Wonwoo’s phone. He left it here when he went to his office.

Foxdungee.

You get up and immediately start searching for it. If not Wonwoo, at least his miniteen plush can keep you company.

Just as you take it out of your closet, you hug it tightly and jump back to the bed. You grab Wonwoo’s phone and take a few selfies with it, before playing a short movie to watch while you pass the time.

An hour passed, then two, and then three—

The clock hit 12 at noon, you were under the bed sheets, completely snuggled in, when you heard the door slowly open and close—indicating that Wonwoo finally decided to get up from his gaming seat, looking for you.

“Baby?” He softly called out, approaching the bed and taking a seat beside you as your back faced him. He caught the bright flash from the screen of your (his) phone, and smiled; thinking you were waiting for him this whole time instead of taking a nap.

Wonwoo sneaked an arm around your waist, his hand hit a soft thing that you held close to yourself. He frowned, snuggling closer to your back as he raised his head to get a look at what you were holding—

Foxdungee.

Bursting into a giggle, he buried his face in your neck and pressed a peck there, dramatically letting out a ‘mmwah!'

“You're holding Foxdungee thinking it's me? You love me that much, baby?” His tone carried a hint of amusement along with teasing, gently trying to move the plush out of your grip so you can hold him instead.

But your grip was tight. His lips unconsciously formed a little pout at his failed attempt to move Foxdungee.

“Baby—”

“Get off me,” you muttered, loud enough for him to catch it, as you removed his hand from your waist and sat up on the bed.

Wonwoo, dumbfounded, looked up at you with a genuinely confused expression, but he didn't wait another second before sitting up as well—his hands reaching up to rest on your thigh by instinct.

“What happened?” He could simply stare at you with big, confused eyes.

“Who do you think you are?” You eyed him.

“Huh?” Wonwoo muttered, tilting his head in confusion. “Is this a punishment for your lovely boyfriend?”

“You’re not my boyfriend,” you looked at him with a confident look, and he swears he heard you wrong, because, what?

You loosen your grip around Foxdungee, lifting it up with your hands as you waved it. “This is.”

The way Wonwoo’s face immediately shifted to a one that spoke volumes, made it difficult for you to hold in your laugh.

“What the fuck,” in disbelief, Wonwoo stared down at the plush in your hands—now finding himself frowning at the way you held it so gently and close to you, but not your actual boyfriend.

“Haha, so funny, I actually laughed. Now give me that,” he faked his laugh, reaching out to grab Foxdungee with a tight grip, trying to pull it away from you.

“Hey! Stop that—” you argued back, pulling it towards you with full force as well.

It felt like two kindergarten kids fighting over a plushie, except that one of them wanted to throw it away because he didn't like the way you held it so close to yourself.

The atmosphere shifted like the weather in early spring. A little pushing and pulling caused a whole pillow fight, trapping you both in a light-hearted and sweet moment with laughs and smiles.

And you both definitely didn't just ignore the way Foxdungee had been completely ripped apart…

“Wait,” you interrupted, suddenly quieting down. “Where's Foxdungee?”

Just as you start to look around, Wonwoo gently grabs your shoulder and pushes you down on the bed, hovering above you, with a playful dissatisfied frown.

“Who cares?” He leaned down to peck your lips, pulling away with a smile. “I'm your boyfriend, not my miniteen plush. And I'm better.”

You laughed, playfully hitting his shoulder. “I don't think so. Your miniteen plush doesn't sit in its office for hours and hours, neglecting its girlfriend.”

A bit of teasing won't hurt—you thought.

Wonwoo chuckled and let himself fall on top of you, burying his face in your neck with a whine. “Don't say that, I'm sorry. I love you..”

Just that, made you fold immediately. You grab his face, guiding him to pull away so you could look at him. As he did so, you flash the brightest grin Wonwoo might have ever seen and press a long kiss on his lips, making him grin as well.

“I think I forgive you, my lovely boyfriend.”

In moments like these, you realise that your significant other taking a few hours for themselves doesn't cause their love to lessen for you.

“Thank you,” closing his eyes, Wonwoo laid his head on your chest, his face lit up with a smile that you could feel when you gently touched his lips.

“Your lovely boyfie promises to never leave you out ever again.” He pecked your hand and snuggled in closer.

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babyleostuff · 11 months ago

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their s/o’s reaction to the "song that doesn't fit them" during caratland 24'

[🍇] choi seungcheol

he tried his best to gaslight you into thinking that he definitely wouldn't do the "smart" choreo (he needed time to mentally prep himself for all your teasing to come). while cheol was shaking his ass in front of thousands of people, you were barely holding on. screaming, crying, throwing up - that was the vibe. after the whole event ended, cheol tried his best to avoid you at the backstage, like there was no way he'd look you in the eye after that. the amount of fun you had: 100/10. the amount of fun your boyfriend had: -100000/10. (and let's just say that your fancam would be a staple to show around during family meetings).

[🍇] jeon wonwoo

definitely didn't tell you which song he'd perform beforehand, because with "queencard" being so girly pop there's no way you'd let wonwoo live afterwards. so, he just waited it out, shook his hips on stage and prayed you'd survive it. and, as he correctly predicted, you had a very bad case of cute aggression, being all "my baby boo, cutie pie, baby girl, let me bite you wonu, nom nom, etc etc." so he just kind of 😒❓and let you fuss over him for the next hour (wonwoo had a moment where he was seriously temped to throw your phone away after seeing you watch the fancam for the 172837 time)

[🍇] kim mingyu

you knew that no matter which song would be chosen for mingyu you wouldn't survive it, so you didn't really pray to find out his pick... and maybe you should have... because what you saw on 23.07.2024 was criminal. your boyfriend throwing it back and shaking ass on the gigantic screens was not on your 2024 bingo. to say that your jaw was on the floor was an understatement, and thank god it was relatively dark so no one could see that (tbh everyone were just focused on mingyu and his ass). also him smiling though all of it??? nah, you did not let it go for the rest of the night. literally. the man was this close 🤏🏼 to falling asleep and you just started to yap again about his ass.

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kmgkmg · 3 months ago

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lovesick - jeon wonwoo

wc: 0.3k | pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader | synopsis: virtual date w jww

genre/s: fluff, idol!wonwoo, established relationship | warnings: none!

rating: pg

“this is never going to get done.” you sigh, reaching for the next pile of paperwork your supervisor assigned for you to finish before the weekend ended.

your boyfriend, wonwoo, was on the other side of the phone, facetiming you. he paused his game, keeping his cat ear headphones on as you could hear him shuffle around his hotel room. after some more ruckus, he bent down to look at you through his phone again, quickly running a hand through his still damp hair.

your hand was suspended above the paper in front of you, unable to write, not knowing what he was up to. amused, you try your best to hold back a small smile but fail miserably. as he notices your smile, he returns the expression, before adjusting his phone so you could see the floor. your view was his open suitcase as he wordlessly climbed into it.

“are you that homesick, wonwoo?”

“i’m lovesick, y/n. i think i need to come home and get treated by you.” he calmly informs you, not moving from the suitcase.

“and you’re not just saying that so you can come encourage me from up close?”

he clears his throat, feeling awkward and unable to refute your deduction on his other motives. closing his suitcase again, he grabbed his phone and flopped onto the bed.

“two more weeks and i’ll be able to cuddle with you again, two more weeks and i can eat your cooking again, two more weeks-”

you interrupt his speech, shaking your head, “two more weeks until i suddenly have a distraction-filled home again.”

“and that’s a bad thing?” his genuine surprise threw you off-guard.

“we both know it’s not.”

he takes his glasses off, placing them on the nightstand. smiling warmly as you yawned for the nth time of the night, he replies softly, “yeah, i just wanted to hear you say it.”

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jeonstellate · 2 years ago

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timestamp: inverse

it’s 6:36 am when you let wonwoo go.

๑彡 jeon wonwoo x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 royal!au, greek mythology-inspired!au — depictions of physical violence — angst

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.8K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

In another life, you and Wonwoo would be a successful case of the enemies-to-lovers trope. The one where ‘leave me alone’ eventually turned into ‘never leave me.’ The one where ‘you against me’ eventually turned into ‘you and I against the world.’

In another life, you and Wonwoo would be your own Hades and Persephone. A child of the dark and of the light. A child of the moon and the sun. Complete opposites, but in love nevertheless.

In another life, you and Wonwoo would be cuddling as you read your respective books. Unbothered by the world that existed outside your shared home. Satisfied that your love was strong enough to triumph over the eons long divide between your people.

In another life, you and Wonwoo would be living without fear of being forced apart.

But, alas, not in this life.

In this life, you and Wonwoo were still a case of the enemies-to-lovers trope. The one where ‘I can’t stand you’s eventually turned into ‘I love you’s. The one where ‘my immortal enemy’ eventually turned into ‘my eternal companion.’

In this life, you and Wonwoo were still your own Hades and Persephone. A child of the underworld and of the sky. A child of hell and of heaven. Complete opposites, but in love just the same.

Except—

In this life, you and Wonwoo weren’t enough to overcome the eons long divide between your people.

In this life, you and Wonwoo were left with no choice but to hide in a remote corner of his people’s realm. Just to have a chance to love each other in peace.

In this life, you and Wonwoo lived with fear of being forced apart.

And then you were.

"Wonwoo!" You screamed his name when men of your realm drove a punch right onto his gut, making him double over in pain. You stepped toward him, but was immediately caged by two others. "Unhand me! Now!"

"Your Highness," one of the men that trapped you with his arm addressed you. Try as you might, no amount of trashing around shook your guards away, "we were ordered to take you back by any means necessary — including hurting you."

Neither of you knew how they found your hideaway, as you had been thorough with your undercover, but they did. And they decided to storm inside without any warning.

Neither of you knew what their game plan was, but it was easy to guess how they plotted their so-called rescue mission. They wanted to restrain each of you and keep you separated until they could drag you away.

"Don’t hurt them," Wonwoo pleaded as blood dripped from his mouth. "I swear to Thanatos, if you hurt [First name]—"

Another punch landed on him, effectively cutting the rest of his sentence. "You aren’t worthy to have their name grace your filthy mouth, Prince."

"Stop!" Your voice held a strong authority in it, yet also desperate. "Leave him alone!"

You looked at Wonwoo. You took in his bloodied appearance: his busted lip, the black eye threatening to form, the cut on his cheek.

He looked nothing like the boy that constantly got under your skin. Nor the man you love with your whole heart.

All because you didn’t love him enough to let him go.

Wonwoo’s expression changed the same time yours did. As if he could read what your mind just decided on. "No. [First name]. Don’t—"

You looked away from him. As you wouldn’t be able to build your resolve strong enough otherwise. "Release him and—"

"Look at me, [First name]." Wonwoo demanded, his voice pleading. He knew you were avoiding his gaze for a reason. "Look at me!"

"—and I’ll come back with you," you finished. Your voice broke by the end, which you thought lessened your credibility. Thus, to make up for it, you repeated your demand with more conviction. "Let him live and I’ll return with you. I swear on the River Styx."

No one expected you to make an unbreakable oath. Not the deities curious enough to watch everything unfold. Not the men your father sent to retrieve you. And certainly not Wonwoo.

Thunder rumbled outside, notifying you and everyone else that your oath had been sealed.

In another life, you would swear the opposite. You would swear to never leave; to never be apart from Wonwoo.

In another life, you would tie your lifeline with his. So neither of you would need to live without the other.

In another life, you wouldn’t need to concern yourself with looking at the man you love one last time. Because there would never be such.

It was only then did you look back at Wonwoo. No one was holding him anymore, but he stayed kneeled on the ground, as if he couldn’t command his legs move. His eyes were wide, disbelieved.

What did you do?

In this life, you swore to leave Wonwoo. You swore off your own happiness. You swore off your own freedom — your own life. All because you thought that was the least you could do, after you selfishly returned his affections and ruined his life.

In this life, you swore to let him go, in exchange for Wonwoo’s second chance at life. A life without you in it.

I’m sorry. I love you.

#jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #jeon wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #jeon wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #jeon wonwoo oneshots #wonwoo oneshots #seventeen oneshots #royal!au #greek mythology!au #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #seventeen

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thedensworld · 26 days ago

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Queen From Wonhwa | J.Ww

Pairing: Commander Wonwoo x Princess Reader

Genre: Historical, Romance, Thriller

Word Count: 18k

Summary: The conflict between the royal family had dragged you to join an alliance with a fallen royal, who held personal vendetta to the Silla royal family.

Hwarang was established in the mid-6th century, comprising elite young men from noble families, the yangban class. Among them was Jeon Wonwoo, one of the finest combat trainers in the Silla Kingdom. As the appointed combat instructor, Wonwoo stood as the pillar of strength and discipline, entrusted with training the kingdom’s future warriors. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, followed the Crown Prince Seungcheol as he readied his sword for a swift strike in their ongoing training session.

"Good job, Seja," Wonwoo complimented, his voice steady as Seungcheol’s sword clashed against his, signaling the end of their practice.

The other royals, including Seungkwan, the young prince, and the Daegun—other princes like Dokyeom and Chan—were also in the midst of their training.

A sudden clatter interrupted the session. Chan dropped his wooden sword, eyes wide as he spotted someone at the entrance of the practice area. His excitement was palpable, and Dokyeom, equally enthusiastic, followed suit. The two rushed toward the figure standing at the gate.

"Sister!" Chan exclaimed, his voice full of wonder as he rushed into the woman’s arms, followed closely by Dokyeom, who was beaming with joy.

The woman—Princess Y/n, the fiancée of Jeon Wonwoo—had returned. Seungcheol watched the scene unfold with furrowed brows, his voice cutting through the air as he gave an order to the two princes.

“Daegun! Back to practice, we still have time left,” Seungcheol commanded firmly, though his eyes lingered on his sister.

He shook his head, his lips curling into a slight, bemused smile. "She's back."

Wonwoo, ever the soldier, remained still, eyes fixed on his trainees as Seungcheol spoke further.

"Wonhwa has dismissed. She has no reason to be away,” Seungcheol added, his tone casual but laden with underlying meaning. “Her supplies must have been all used up by now."

Wonwoo remained silent, his gaze never straying from the royal siblings. But his attention was divided now. The moment he spoke, his words were succinct and unwavering: "She's my fiancée."

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Are the two of you actually going to get married?"

"As long as the bride doesn't run away again, maybe we will," Wonwoo replied, his voice deadpan, though there was an edge of humor in his eyes.

Seungcheol chuckled, clearly entertained. With a quick motion, Wonwoo redirected everyone's focus.

"Enough chatter," he called out, his voice strong and commanding. "Back to training. Let's keep the discipline."

With that, the royal family of Silla returned to their practice, the clashing swords and the disciplined rhythm of training filling the air once again, the tension of their personal lives hanging just beneath the surface.

As the training session came to an end, Chan immediately ran toward you, who had been watching from the sidelines. His enthusiasm was evident as he approached you with a wide smile.

"Are you going to live with us now that you're not training again, sister?" he asked eagerly, his eyes full of curiosity.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his straightforwardness. "How do you know?" you responded, your voice soft but with a hint of playful challenge.

Chan grinned, clearly pleased with his own knowledge. "I overheard the guards talking. They said Wonhwa was dismissed, and Hwarang is now only for men."

Wonhwa, the training program for women, had been designed to provide education in culture, politics, social etiquette, and combat skills. You had spent three years immersed in the rigorous program before it was dissolved due to internal conflicts. Hwarang, a military force for young men, had been formally established by your father, the King, after the dissolution of Wonhwa.

Before you could respond, Seungcheol, the Crown Prince, approached you. His eyes met yours, and the unspoken tension between you two seemed to charge the air. You gave a slight bow, acknowledging his presence, but the moment felt heavy, like a storm cloud hanging overhead.

"How are you, Ongju?" Seungcheol asked, his voice polite but carrying an edge of formality.

Your response was measured, your gaze steady. The tension between the two of you was palpable. It was no secret to those watching that Prince Seungcheol and Princess Y/n shared a cold, distant relationship.

There had long been rumors that King Seongdeok favored his daughter over the Crown Prince, despite you not being part of the direct succession line. This favoritism had fueled whispers of a strained relationship between Seungcheol and you, something that lingered in the corridors of the palace, even though neither of you ever spoke of it openly.

As the onlookers exchanged glances, the silence between the royal siblings felt like the calm before a storm. The past was never far behind you, and the weight of royal duty made every glance, every word, carry the burden of history.

"I see you're here for training as well, Seja." You spoke, your tone light but with an underlying sharpness, knowing well that Seungcheol had long passed the age for Hwarang training.

You glanced at Wonwoo, who had approached, his presence unmistakable. The way he carried himself, the badge on his shoulder—it was clear he was now the official trainer for Hwarang. His position made him more than just an observer in the training ground; he was the one who guided them.

"I heard you're skilled with the sword. Can we see you spar with Seja?" Seungkwan piped up, his voice filled with innocent excitement. As the younger brother, he seemed oblivious to the tension between you and his older sibling. You smiled in response, amused by his enthusiasm.

Taking the sword from Dokyeom, you turned your head towards Seungcheol, your expression one of quiet determination.

Wonwoo watched closely, noting the way you held the sword. The ease with which you gripped it, the focused calmness in your stance—your confidence spoke volumes. The rumors of your swordsmanship were true, but seeing it firsthand made them all the more impressive. You were a master in combat, and it wasn’t just the sword that made you formidable.

"I didn’t know they taught swordsmanship in Wonhwa," Seungcheol said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I thought they only taught you how to pour tea." His words, meant to sting, seemed to land right where he intended.

You felt the subtle jab, but your response came with a practiced smile, hiding the flicker of pain beneath it. "I understand, Seja," you replied, your voice tinged with calm authority. "Since you never received any training, I can hardly blame you for not knowing."

The tension hung thick between you two, but you did not let it show. With a swift movement, you raised your sword, eyes locked on Seungcheol, ready for whatever came next.

Wonwoo, standing to the side, couldn’t help but be entertained by the exchange. The subtle, yet clear animosity between you and Seungcheol was something he hadn’t missed. He found himself amused, watching the interaction unfold. Perhaps he should stay for the entertainment—if only to ensure neither of them ended up with a sword in the other’s chest.

"Princess Y/n, Commander Jeon is here," your lady-in-waiting announced, her voice barely above a whisper as the doors swung open. You swiftly adjusted your gown, ensuring it was draped elegantly around you, just before Wonwoo, the man you were set to marry in a matter of months, entered your chamber. The air between you both felt thick with unspoken words, and you could feel the weight of four years pressing down on your heart.

It had been four long years since you last saw him, back when you were preparing to join the Wonhwa training—a decision that had sparked a wave of change not just in your life, but across Silla. At 18, when most young women were expected to embrace marriage, you chose a different path. Your refusal to wed became more than a personal choice; it was a declaration that would resonate through the kingdom and challenge centuries of tradition.

As the only princess and the king's sole daughter, your rejection of marriage at the prescribed age marked a profound turning point for the women of Silla. Your words had ignited a shift in thought that could no longer be ignored: "Women have the right to serve their country just as men do, even after the age of marriage. For too long, marriage has hindered our service to the kingdom. If marriage requires the same devotion as military service, then let men bear the burden we have carried for so long."

Your declaration had not only shocked the court but also forced a reassessment of laws that had been in place for generations, forcing many to reconsider the boundaries of gender roles in Silla.

"How has the military been treating you, Princess?" Wonwoo asked, his voice steady and respectful, yet carrying an undertone of genuine curiosity.

You raised a brow, surprised by his question. "And you, Commander? How have you been?" you replied, your tone remaining neutral. You gestured for your attendants to leave, signaling that this conversation would be more private.

Once the room was clear, Wonwoo met your gaze and spoke again. "If I may ask, how are you, Princess?" His voice was measured now, careful, as if testing the waters.

You exhaled softly, taking a moment to consider his question. "The military is... challenging," you said, the words coming out slowly, as you weighed their significance. "Wonhwa was an education for militant women. Now, I find myself... reduced to a figurehead in a world of men." Your tone remained calm, but the weight of the words was heavy.

"Yet, you are the only woman in history to have changed the laws," Wonwoo remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "The marriage age, the limits on women's education and careers—all of these restrictions were lifted because of you."

You gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "Perhaps," you replied. "But it was only because my father is the king." The acknowledgment of your role in the changes didn’t sit easily with you.

Wonwoo smiled faintly, almost as if understanding that the title of "Princess" did not define you. "And yet, Princess, you stand as a symbol of defiance and progress."

You felt a slight warmth at his words, but quickly masked it with a more guarded expression. "What brings you here, Commander?" you asked, your tone shifting to something more formal, as the conversation inevitably turned toward your future.

He studied you for a moment before replying. "May I not visit my soon-to-be wife?" His words were careful, though the undertone of them hung in the air, too charged for comfort.

Your expression faltered for a brief second before you regained composure. "Enough, Commander. You know this marriage will not happen." You dismissed his words with a wave of your hand, but inside, a part of you was unsettled.

He held your gaze, quiet for a moment, before speaking again. "You said that four years ago, Princess, and yet here we are, only months away from the wedding."

You let out a quiet sigh, the weight of the truth pressing in. "I am not the same person you knew," you murmured, your voice softer than before, laced with something more vulnerable.

Wonwoo paused, his expression softening as he took in your words. "Perhaps, Princess. But I never truly knew you." The words hung in the air, a quiet confession that carried more meaning than either of you realized.

It was the truth, you thought. No one had ever truly known you—not your father, not your mother, and certainly not him. You were merely a title, a pawn in a game too complex to fully understand. And perhaps, in this moment, that was the one thing you shared—an unspoken acknowledgment of the distance between who you were and who the world expected you to be.

You first got to know Wonwoo during your first solo trip to Hanju Province at the age of 18. It had been an act of defiance, a way to escape the suffocating expectations placed upon you. Your father, the king, had sent him to find you after your previous lady-in-waiting reported your disappearance. At that time, you believed no one would bother looking for you; after all, you were merely the daughter of the king's concubine, not his legitimate wife. But your assumptions were proven wrong when you came face to face with a familiar figure—a military soldier who had taught all your brothers sword-fighting, archery, and martial arts. He stood before you, unwavering, claiming that the kingdom had been searching for you.

"You know that being my husband will be difficult, right?" you asked, your voice laced with jest, though you already knew the marriage would never happen. You had your own plans—plans that involved running away long before the wedding day arrived.

Wonwoo nodded, his expression unreadable. "I realized that. But being married to someone else, someone other than you, would be even harder." His words caught you off guard, a blush creeping up your neck as you turned your face away in feigned indifference.

You shook your head, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "If position is what you're seeking, Commander Jeon, then you should reconsider. I'm just the daughter of a concubine, not a princess worthy of a powerful alliance."

Wonwoo’s smile remained, softening as he gazed at you with a mixture of admiration and something deeper—something unspoken. He knew better than to believe the narrative you spun. "A concubine's child who plans to run away at midnight on your wedding night, with a horse waiting to carry you to Myeongju, and then cross into Japan? You know you're more than that, Princess."

Your eyes widened in shock, your carefully laid escape plan revealed before you could even act on it. Wonwoo chuckled lightly at your taken aback expression, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "You forget, Ongju, I developed the military strategy of Silla—the same strategy you’ve mastered in your training. You thought I wouldn't notice? I might have misunderstood your heart, but I know how your mind works."

Misunderstood your heart, huh?

You crossed your arms defensively, challenging him with a raised brow. "Then tell me, what's the real reason, Commander Jeon? Maybe I’ll reconsider my little escapade, after all."

There it was again, the challenge in your tone. The same defiance that had always marked you, the same sharp wit that never let anyone underestimate you. And though his gaze softened, there was a glint of determination in his eyes—he wouldn’t back down so easily.

Days later, Wonwoo was resting at his residence, savoring a rare moment of peace, when a commotion outside his chambers shattered the stillness. Moments later, his servant entered, bowing deeply as they announced your unexpected visit at an unseemly late hour. Wonwoo's brow furrowed in confusion.

"At this hour?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His tone carried a note of alarm. "Is she alone, or has someone accompanied her?"

"She is alone, Commander," the servant replied hesitantly. "There were no guards with her."

Wonwoo's unease deepened. His residence was far from the palace—a treacherous journey, especially for someone unguarded at night. A flicker of dread crossed his face as he signaled for you to be let in. As you entered the room, Wonwoo's sharp eyes immediately noticed your red-rimmed eyes and the faint trembling of your frame.

Without a word, he dismissed everyone, his voice steady but firm. As the doors closed, you stood before him, your composure cracking beneath the weight of your grief. Wonwoo crossed the room swiftly, his hand instinctively resting on your arm, his voice low and gentle.

"What’s happened?" he asked, though his words faltered when he heard the sound of your muffled sobs. Without hesitation, he pulled you into an embrace, his arms a safe haven against the storm you carried.

You pulled away after a moment, wiping your face, your voice barely above a whisper. "My mother..." you began, struggling to maintain your composure. "The queen poisoned her... and the king is blind to it."

Wonwoo froze, your words slicing through the silence like a blade. His expression darkened as the gravity of your revelation sank in.

"The queen?" he mumbled in disbelief, his voice taut with restrained anger.

You nodded, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "She accused my mother of black magic... as an excuse to kill her. It's nothing but a fabricated crime to justify her hatred."

Wonwoo clenched his jaw, fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

"What about Chan?" Wonwoo asked after a moment, his concern shifting to your younger brother, whom he knew you cherished deeply.

"I left him under Prince Jisoo’s care," you replied, naming your stepbrother, Dokyeom’s elder brother. "I trust him to ensure Chan’s safety."

The two of you arrived at the concubine's residence, where your mother had lived. Wonwoo stood still, his gaze fixed on the grim scene before him. Guards carried your mother’s lifeless body out of the residence while palace staff meticulously inspected her chambers. The air was thick with whispers and accusations, all revolving around one word: black magic. It was the alleged cause of your mother's death, a stain on her name that spread like wildfire.

“It’s the queen! I know it must be her, Commander Jeon!” you had cried earlier in his residence, your voice cracking with grief and rage. You had witnessed your mother’s final moments—her collapse following a refreshment you suspected had been sent by the queen.

Wonwoo’s voice was steady but low as he asked, “What reason would the queen have?”

You bit your trembling lip before replying, “She feels threatened by me.”

Wonwoo glanced back at the scene, his jaw tightening as inspectors began removing items from your mother’s chambers. Among them were forbidden objects—items associated with the practice of black magic. These, they claimed, were evidence of her guilt. The murmurs around you grew louder, but Wonwoo’s resolve was firm. He believed you. He had met your mother on several occasions; she was a woman of grace and dignity, not one who would consort with dark practices.

“Exile,” you said, your voice hollow yet resolute. “She wants me exiled. This was her plan all along.”

The weight of your words settled heavily on him. To him, it felt like a game of politics played with the highest stakes—your life. And now, with your mother’s death, it seemed as though the queen's schemes were nearing completion.

The rumors spread swiftly, infiltrating every corner of the palace. Servants whispered about the daughter of a supposed black magic practitioner, speculating that you might share her guilt. The court’s whispers had turned into accusations.

Wonwoo found himself standing behind the ministers during an emergency meeting in the throne room. The tension in the air was palpable as the king presided over the gathering. Everyone of importance was present—prime ministers, the chief of palace staff, and even Buddhist elders summoned to weigh in on the grave situation.

“She has been a rebellious royal from the start,” one minister began, his voice laced with disdain.

“She defied the royal decree by refusing marriage at the age of coming and choosing instead to join the military program for women,” another added.

“She has shown clear disdain for her fiancé, Commander Jeon,” someone else chimed in, their tone accusatory.

“Your Highness,” one of the Buddhist elders spoke gravely, “we believe that the princess’s behavior is a direct result of black magic’s influence.”

The king’s grip on his armrest tightened, his knuckles whitening as his patience wore thin. The audacity of these men to speak ill of his only daughter, here in his court, was more than he could tolerate.

“Are you implying,” the king thundered, rising from his seat, “that my daughter’s bravery, her accomplishments, and her vision for this kingdom are nothing but the result of sorcery?” His voice echoed through the hall, silencing the murmurs. “How dare you! How dare you call my daughter a witch!”

The room fell deathly silent, save for the sound of the king slamming his fist against his chair. His fury was a tempest, swirling around the court as everyone lowered their heads in fear.

“No one is permitted to utter another word about this case until the truth is uncovered,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “If I hear even a whisper of this outside these walls, whoever is responsible will face the full weight of my wrath. Do I make myself clear?”

The ministers and officials nodded hastily, their faces pale.

“Dismissed!” the king barked, waving his hand sharply. The room quickly emptied, but the tension lingered like an unshakable shadow.

Unexpectedly, Wonwoo was summoned to the king's residence. The air was thick with an unspoken urgency as he entered the grand room. The king, seated at the center, waved his hand, silently commanding the attendants to leave. Within moments, the two of them were alone, the heavy silence punctuated only by the crackle of the brazier.

“Commander Jeon,” the king began, his voice steady but laden with sorrow. “I want you to lead an investigation, alongside the Hwarang.”

Wonwoo stiffened, his military training keeping his emotions in check as he absorbed the weight of the order.

“I want this case resolved, and the truth revealed. I cannot accept what has happened, nor can I let the lies about black magic tarnish her memory,” the king continued, setting his cup of tea down with a trembling hand. His face, though stoic, betrayed the grief he felt.

Wonwoo watched as the king’s gaze grew distant, as if the memories of the past had taken hold of him. He knew this wasn’t just about palace politics—this was personal.

“When she was born,” the king said softly, almost to himself, “I threw a grand feast. I was ecstatic to have a daughter—a daughter born of the woman I loved more than anything in this world.” His voice faltered, and he drew a shaky breath. “Y/n has always reminded me of her. And now…” He trailed off, the weight of your mother’s death hanging heavily in the room.

The king looked directly at Wonwoo, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I cannot let harm come to Y/n. She is the only piece of her I have left. She is just like her mother—courageous, kind, and unyielding.”

Wonwoo felt his throat tighten. The king’s words revealed a vulnerability he had never witnessed before—a father mourning not only the loss of a woman he cherished but also fearing for the safety of the daughter she left behind.

“I will find the truth, Your Majesty,” Wonwoo said, his voice firm with determination. “I will not let any harm come to the princess.”

The king nodded, his expression hardening into resolve. “Good. I trust you, Commander Jeon. Ensure that this investigation uncovers the truth, no matter how deeply it is buried. And keep Y/n safe. If anything were to happen to her…” His voice broke, and he did not finish the thought, but the weight of his unspoken words was clear.

Wonwoo bowed deeply. “You have my word, Your Majesty.”

As he straightened, he caught the king’s gaze once more—a silent plea in the eyes of a father clinging to the last thread of his love.

"I know your deep desire, Princess Y/n." Wonwoo's words during his last visit echoed relentlessly in your mind. What did he mean by "deep desire"? His words seemed layered, carrying a depth you couldn’t immediately decipher. How did your desires intertwine with his plans? And why did they serve as the foundation for the marriage the two of you were destined to have?

"Join an alliance with me, and I’ll help you," he had said.

You were still pondering his intentions when your lady-in-waiting entered your room hurriedly. "The king wishes to see you, Ongju," she announced.

Without delay, you made your way to the king’s residence. As your presence was announced, you stepped into his private quarters. The room smelled faintly of ink and sandalwood. Your father sat at his desk, penning a poem while one of his attendants poured tea for both of you.

You bowed deeply, standing before him.

“Sit, my daughter,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

The air felt heavy with unspoken emotions as you took your place.

“I am as shaken as you are by what has happened, Ongju,” the king began, his tone somber but steady. “But as the ruler of this kingdom, I must be fair and just.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“I have ordered an investigation into your mother’s alleged association with black magic,” he continued, his eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You clenched your fists under the table and took a deep breath. “I swear on my life, Your Highness, my mother was not involved in such practices.”

The king set down his brush, his face lined with fatigue. “I can only speak after the investigation yields its results. In the meantime, I need you to stay low and avoid any actions that may draw unnecessary attention. This case involves you as well, and I want no further harm to come to you.”

His words were well-meaning, but they did little to quell the storm within you.

“And,” he added, “your marriage is approaching. I expect you to prepare yourself for it.”

You felt a pang of disbelief. Your mother had just died, and yet your father still clung to the idea of your marriage as if it were the only thing tethering your future to safety.

“I refuse this marriage,” you said softly but firmly, your voice carrying a note of defiance.

The king’s movements froze, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You can’t refuse, Ongju. If you do, the court will turn its judgmental gaze upon you, and rumors will spread. You must consider your reputation.”

“What reputation, Your Highness?” you countered, your voice trembling with frustration. “I am merely the daughter of a concubine. My presence holds no real weight in this palace.”

The king’s expression softened, though his resolve remained. “Is it Commander Jeon you do not like? I can find another suitor if that’s the issue.”

You shook your head, bowing respectfully. “It is not about Commander Jeon or anyone else. I simply do not believe marriage will bring me happiness.”

For the first time, your father’s expression shifted into something you hadn’t seen before—an almost pleading vulnerability. “You are my only daughter, Ongju,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what would make you happy?”

The room fell into silence, the question lingering in the air. You opened your mouth, but no words came. Because, deep down, happiness wasn’t something you were focused on. Your mind was preoccupied with fear—fear of the queen, fear for your brother Chan, fear of the same fate that had befallen your mother.

After a long pause, you blurted out, “A sword.”

The king blinked, surprised. “A sword?”

You nodded, regaining some composure. “A strong, sharp, and powerful sword. That’s all I need.”

A faint smile touched the king’s lips. “I’ve heard of your mastery with the sword during your time in the Wonhwa. If the group hadn’t been disbanded due to internal strife, you might have been a leader among them.”

Your heart stilled at his words. Did he truly believe that? Had your father ever said something similar about Seungcheol, the crown prince?

The question clawed at you, especially since Jisoo had recently confided something that echoed in your mind. “Seungcheol can’t fight with a sword,” Jisoo had said. “He’s not the one you need to worry about. He doesn’t have the strength. But the queen…”

Jisoo had gripped your shoulder that day, his voice lowering to a grave tone. “The queen will do anything to secure his throne. Anything—including what happened to your mother.”

Jisoo’s words haunted you now as your father spoke. “You have great potential, Ongju. Many believe you could one day lead, even without being in the line of succession.”

The weight of those words pressed down on you, but they did nothing to ease your fear. The queen—her ambition, her cunning—was the true danger. She would stop at nothing, and you knew it.

“Stay vigilant, my daughter,” the king said, his tone gentle but firm.

But vigilance wasn’t enough. Your heart thudded in your chest as one thought consumed you: Was the deep desire Wonwoo was implying truly this feeling? This burning, unspoken ambition that lingered in the shadows of your heart—the desire to rule the kingdom?

You sat by the window of your chambers, the pale moonlight casting long shadows across the room. Wonwoo’s words lingered, ambiguous yet purposeful.

"Join an alliance with me, and I’ll help you."

What alliance? Help you with what? Did he mean to protect you from the queen or guide you toward something greater?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a faint knock at the door.

“Ongju,” your lady-in-waiting whispered, “Commander Jeon has sent a message. He requests your presence in the gardens.”

You hesitated, your heart beating faster. It wasn’t unusual for Wonwoo to seek you out, but tonight felt different. There was a weight to his recent words, a significance that you couldn’t shake.

Rising from your seat, you made your way to the gardens. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and damp earth. Wonwoo stood under a lantern’s glow, his figure tall and commanding.

“Commander,” you greeted, your voice steady despite the questions swirling in your mind.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Princess Y/n,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of formality and something more personal.

There was a moment of silence, charged with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he stepped closer, his eyes meeting yours.

“Do you understand now?” he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Your breath caught. “Understand what?”

“The deep desire I spoke of,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “It’s not just ambition, Ongju. It’s purpose. A purpose only you can fulfill.”

You stared at him, his words striking a chord deep within you. Purpose. The word felt heavier than ambition, more profound. Purpose wasn’t just about power or ruling; it was about responsibility, about rising to meet the challenges that others could not.

“Why do you believe in me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

Wonwoo’s lips curved into the faintest smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Because I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And because I know that without you, this kingdom has no future.”

His words were both a compliment and a burden, wrapping around you like a cloak you weren’t sure you were ready to wear.

“Do you think this is what I want?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, his tone was steady. “It’s not about what you want, Princess. It’s about what the kingdom needs.”

And with that, he bowed slightly and stepped back into the shadows, leaving you alone under the moonlit sky with the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest.

The queen’s private chamber was dimly lit, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air. Crown Prince Seungcheol sat across from the queen, his hands clasped tightly together, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain. The queen watched him intently, her sharp eyes missing nothing as she delicately sipped her tea.

“You seem restless, my son,” the queen began, her voice smooth yet probing. “A ruler cannot afford to show unease, especially in these turbulent times.”

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. “I am aware, Mother. I simply... I find myself questioning—” He stopped short, unsure whether to reveal the vulnerability gnawing at him.

“Questioning what?” The queen set her cup down, leaning forward with a calculated softness. “Speak plainly.”

He hesitated, then exhaled deeply. “Am I truly ready to rule, Mother? I have been trained for this my entire life, but I cannot shake the feeling that I lack the strength or the decisiveness required. Father’s shadow looms large over me... and the court whispers about my shortcomings.”

The queen’s expression hardened slightly, though her voice remained calm. “Who dares to whisper such things? You are the crown prince, the future king. Your authority is not to be questioned.”

“But they do,” Seungcheol countered, his tone edged with frustration. “They compare me to Y/n, of all people. They say she possesses the qualities of a ruler—courage, intelligence, and the ability to command respect. Even Father...” His voice faltered, and he looked away, ashamed to meet her eyes.

The queen’s gaze sharpened at the mention of you, her expression unreadable. She stood and moved to stand behind Seungcheol, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your father is a sentimental man. He lets emotions cloud his judgment, especially when it comes to that girl and her late mother.”

Seungcheol’s fists clenched. “But what if they are right? What if I am not enough to uphold Silla’s legacy? I have no skill with the sword, no military prowess like Y/n or Commander Jeon. How can I inspire loyalty in the people when I doubt myself?”

The queen’s grip on his shoulder tightened, her voice dropping to a firm whisper. “Listen to me, Seungcheol. Leadership is not about swinging a sword or marching into battle. It is about strategy, control, and ensuring that power remains where it belongs—within our family. Do not let the court’s foolish admiration for Y/n distract you. She is a threat, not an ally. And as for your father, he is blind to what must be done.”

Seungcheol glanced up at her, his insecurity mingling with confusion. “What must be done?”

The queen leaned closer, her voice a venomous whisper. “You must solidify your position as the rightful heir. That means eliminating anything—or anyone—that stands in your way. Trust me, my son, I will guide you. Together, we will secure your future.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as Seungcheol absorbed her words. His mother’s unwavering confidence in him was both reassuring and suffocating. Deep down, the doubts still lingered, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. But for now, he nodded, letting the queen’s words anchor him.

“Thank you, Mother. I will do what is necessary,” he said, though the conviction in his voice wavered ever so slightly.

The queen smiled, a triumphant gleam in her eyes as she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Good. Remember, Seungcheol, weakness has no place on the throne. You were born to rule, and I will ensure that you do.”

As the crown prince left the chamber, his heart felt heavy. The weight of the crown seemed more daunting than ever, and in the deepest corners of his mind, the question still lingered: Am I truly enough?

"Seja..." Seungcheol slightly inclined his head toward Wonwoo, who stepped aside to make way for the crown prince. The pathway was dimly lit, the faint flicker of torches casting long shadows on the park. Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on the commander, curiosity simmering beneath his composed exterior.

“It’s rather late to visit the palace at this hour, Commander Jeon,” Seungcheol remarked, his tone measured but laced with subtle inquiry. His words hung in the air as his eyes shifted to the figure standing quietly behind Wonwoo.

You.

The two of you locked eyes, a brief but charged moment that didn’t escape Seungcheol’s notice. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something—resentment, perhaps, or something deeper and more convoluted.

“Ongju...” Seungcheol acknowledged your presence with a slight nod, the formality of his gesture betraying none of his inner turmoil.

You bowed respectfully. “Seja.”

“I offer my condolences for your mother’s passing,” he said, his voice softer now, though it carried the weight of protocol more than sincerity.

“Thank you, Seja,” you replied, your voice steady but laced with the exhaustion of grief.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted between you and Wonwoo, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he observed the unspoken tension between the two of you. There was something in the way you stood—close, but not too close—that unsettled him. Something he couldn’t quite place but disliked nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, he straightened. “Ongju, I wish for you to maintain a low profile during the investigation,” he said, his tone edged with authority. “This is for your sake, as your brother.”

A beat passed before he added, “And also for the sake of your late mother.”

Your lips parted, but no response came. The weight of his words, or perhaps the weight of the circumstances, seemed to anchor you in place.

Seungcheol watched you for a moment longer, his chest tightening as he took in your expression—guarded, resilient, and yet fragile in a way that made him want to look away.

Jealousy stirred within him, raw and bitter. He hated himself for feeling it, but there it was. You, the daughter of a concubine, the half-sibling he’d never quite known how to regard, commanded attention in a way he never could. You bore the strength of a warrior, the sharpness of a strategist, and the charisma of a leader. And though he was the crown prince—the one destined to rule—he couldn’t ignore the whispers that dared to compare him to you.

“Ongju, remember,” he said, his voice tight as he forced his emotions down, “your actions reflect on the royal family. Do not give them more reasons to talk.”

With that, he nodded once more and turned to leave, his steps brisk as if eager to escape the suffocating air of his own insecurities.

Behind him, you and Wonwoo stood in silence. If Seungcheol had glanced back, he might have seen the fleeting look of determination in your eyes or the way Wonwoo’s gaze softened ever so slightly as he glanced at you.

But Seungcheol didn’t look back. He couldn’t bear to. The jealousy and doubt simmering within him were enough to carry him through the long, lonely walk back to his residence.

"First, we need to ensure Chan’s safety. He shouldn’t be anywhere near the Queen’s reach. I’ll have one of my most trusted Hwarang escort him to a safe location—somewhere even her spies wouldn’t think to look."

The day Chan was sent away was one of the hardest you’d ever faced. Watching your little brother climb into the carriage with a Hwarang soldier by his side, you struggled to hold back tears. His wide, innocent eyes looked up at you, confused yet trusting. He didn’t understand why he had to leave, why he couldn’t stay with you. You knelt in front of him, smoothing his hair and forcing a smile onto your face.

"Be good, Chan," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. "This isn’t forever. I’ll come for you soon, I promise."

"Why can’t you come with me, Nuna?" he asked softly, his small hands clutching at your sleeves.

Your heart shattered, but you managed to keep your composure. "Because I have to stay here and make sure everything is safe for you. But don’t worry. You’re with someone I trust, and they’ll take care of you."

Chan nodded slowly, his innocence only making the pain worse. As the carriage pulled away, you stood there, your hands clenched tightly at your sides. Wonwoo, who had been standing silently nearby, stepped closer.

"You did the right thing," he said quietly.

"It doesn’t feel like it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo didn’t respond, but his presence alone was grounding. You couldn’t afford to let your emotions control you—not when there was so much at stake.

Returning to the palace, you threw yourself into work, hoping it would distract you from the ache in your chest. Your father had tasked you with assisting him in managing a pressing political issue with the government. It was a rare opportunity, one that you were determined to make the most of.

However, to your dismay, the King insisted that Seungcheol work alongside you.

The tension between the two of you was palpable the moment you entered the meeting room. Seungcheol leaned against the table, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. As you took your seat, he let out a low sigh.

"I didn’t know the King was sending a scholar to handle matters of state," he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You shot him a sharp glare. "And I didn’t know the Crown Prince would approach this meeting with the grace of a petulant child. Perhaps I overestimated you, Seja."

The staff in the room shifted uncomfortably, their gazes darting between the two of you.

Seungcheol straightened, his tone hardening. "Be careful, Ongju. You may have studied politics, but theory is far different from reality. I’ve been working in the field while you’ve been... buried in books."

You felt your temper flare, and before you could stop yourself, the words were out. "Oh, yes, I forgot. While I was being trained academically, you were busy getting married and... indulging yourself. Forgive me for thinking I might actually have something to contribute."

The room fell deathly silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. The staff froze, their eyes wide with shock. Even Seungcheol looked taken aback, though his expression quickly darkened.

Before the situation could escalate further, Jisoo stepped into the room. "Enough," he said firmly, his tone commanding.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. "Ongju, a word."

You clenched your jaw but followed him out of the room. Once you were alone, Jisoo turned to face you, his usual warmth replaced by sternness.

"That was reckless," he said bluntly. "Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?"

"He was belittling me!" you protested, your voice rising.

"And you played right into his hands," Jisoo countered. "Seungcheol has the Queen behind him. You may be the King’s daughter, but you’re not untouchable. If you keep provoking him, you’ll make yourself a target."

You looked away, frustration and shame mingling in your chest. "I can’t just stand by while he questions my abilities. I’ve worked too hard for that."

"I know," Jisoo said, his voice softening slightly. "But you need to be smarter about this. Use your knowledge, your training. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you."

You nodded reluctantly, his words sinking in.

"You're going to get married so, this isn’t just about you," Jisoo added, his voice dropping to a serious tone. "If you’re going through with this, you need to make sure Commander Jeon is safe. The Queen will see him as a threat—if she hasn’t already. And you know what she’s capable of."

The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"You need to protect him, Y/n," Jisoo continued, his eyes locking onto yours. "If you truly care for him, you’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe."

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy cloak. You nodded slowly, your mind racing with thoughts of Wonwoo, the Queen, and the danger that loomed over all of you.

"I understand," you said quietly.

Jisoo leaned back in his chair, his expression softening. "Good. Just... be careful. You’ve always been strong, but strength alone won’t be enough this time."

Today was the wedding day. You sat still as the servants carefully applied colorful powder to your face, their gentle touches a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions brewing within you. Draped in the heavy, ornate wedding gown, you stared at your own reflection in the mirror, whispering to yourself, "You are ready for this."

Whispers had rippled through the palace when you declared your decision to marry Commander Jeon—especially when you insisted the wedding be arranged without delay. It was a decision made with an urgency few understood. Yet here you were, an hour before the ceremony, your heart steady but your mind racing.

The last time you saw your groom was a week ago. He had invited you to his residence for tea, a quiet meeting where you discussed your future. Would you remain within the palace walls, or would you stepawayy with him beyond the capital?

"Why must I leave the palace to live with you?" you had asked, a touch of defiance in your tone as you sipped your tea. "Shouldn't you be the one to follow me, Commander Jeon?"

Wonwoo’s calm gaze met yours, and for a moment, the soft rustle of the wind outside seemed louder than the silence between you.

"Because you would be safer away from here," he said quietly.

Your hand paused, the delicate porcelain cup just shy of your lips. The words lingered, heavy with unspoken fears. You set the cup down, studying his expression.

"You noticed," you murmured.

He nodded, his composed demeanor unwavering. "I am aware of the dangers, but that is not the only reason I suggested leaving."

The stillness stretched, a quiet understanding forming between you. Wonwoo didn’t press further, instead reaching for the teapot, refilling your cup with a slow, steady hand.

"I will ensure you are safe," he promised, his voice calm but resolute. "Think about what you want—where you wish to be. Leave the rest to me."

In that moment, surrounded by the warm scent of tea and the gentle light filtering through the wooden screens, you felt something rare and precious—security.

Now, staring at your reflection, you recalled that feeling. Amid the palace’s whispered schemes and the lurking shadows of betrayal, you were about to marry a man who saw through the veils of deception that others wore.

You lowered your arms slowly as the ceremony unfolded around you, the murmurs of the crowd blending with the soft music that filled the grand hall. For the first time, your gaze met his, and everything else seemed to fade away.

The grand wedding was a spectacle—an event fit for the King’s only daughter. Nobles, officials, and foreign dignitaries filled the palace, their excitement palpable. The King’s affection for you was evident in the lavish celebration, a grand feast prepared for his people beyond the palace walls. Laughter and music echoed, a shared joy that seemed to ripple through everyone present.

But amidst the grandeur, you stood beneath the ornate canopy, your eyes locked with his. Your heart raced—not with fear, like the frantic pulse you’d felt when evading a palace guard on a late-night adventure, nor with the wild rush of adrenaline that came from facing danger in the forest. No, this was different.

Your heart’s rhythm was a steady, reassuring beat. A quiet promise whispered beneath the surface: Everything will be alright. You are safe.

And somehow, the resentment you once harbored for him—those unspoken grudges and unhealed wounds—seemed to melt away, leaving you with a sense of calm you hadn’t expected. Standing there, with him watching you just as intently, you felt something shift within you, something that kept you grounded, not out of resistance, but out of trust.

The room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of candlelight, their flickering flames casting gentle, wavering shadows on the silk-draped walls. The faint scent of jasmine hung in the air, a calming fragrance that only seemed to heighten your awareness of the moment.

You stood near the window, fingers lightly tracing the intricate embroidery of your wedding gown. The weight of the heavy fabric was a constant reminder of the day’s grand celebration, the laughter, the cheers, and the vows exchanged. Yet now, in the quiet solitude of your chamber, the world outside seemed a distant memory.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and you turned, catching sight of Wonwoo stepping inside. He had changed out of his formal attire, now clad in a simple, dark robe that contrasted with the light of the candles. His gaze met yours, steady yet unreadable, a quiet intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Silence stretched between you, thick and charged. Your heartbeat quickened, but it wasn’t the same fear or anxiety that had gripped you in the past. This was different—a fluttering warmth, a delicate anticipation that made your palms slightly damp.

“You must be tired,” he finally spoke, his voice a soft murmur, breaking the quiet yet somehow deepening the intimacy.

“A little,” you admitted, your voice steady but your heart racing. “But not enough to want this night to end.”

A faint smile touched the corners of Wonwoo’s lips, and he stepped closer, his footsteps silent on the plush carpet. When he was only a breath away, he reached out, his hand brushing against the loose strands of your hair. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant.

“Did you… did you mean it?” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. “When you said you’d keep me safe?”

“I did.” His answer was immediate, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, a sense of security that you had long forgotten. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, savoring the closeness.

Then his fingers moved, gently tilting your chin up, and you opened your eyes to find his face mere inches from yours. His gaze flickered, searching your expression, as if seeking permission.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned forward, letting your lips brush against his—a tentative, delicate touch that seemed to ignite something within both of you.

Wonwoo’s hand slid to your waist, drawing you closer as the kiss deepened, the softness giving way to a quiet passion. His other hand cradled the side of your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

Time seemed to blur, the world beyond the room fading away. All that existed was the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm, and the quiet, whispered promises shared between breaths.

When you finally parted, your foreheads resting against one another, a gentle smile graced his lips. “We have a long journey ahead, but… tonight, it’s just us.”

You smiled back, your own worries and fears melting away in his warmth.

Just us.

And with that, the night unfolded—soft touches, quiet laughter, and whispered confessions beneath the soft glow of candlelight. In his arms, you found a solace you hadn’t dared to dream of, a tenderness that promised a future beyond fear and doubt.

"It will be hard for a pregnant woman to lead the upcoming project." The minister’s assistant’s voice cut through the meeting chamber like a blade, his audacity stirring a ripple of tension across the room. You raised a brow, your gaze snapping to the man who dared to make such a bold, presumptive statement barely a week after your wedding. Pregnant? You weren’t even with child, but the mere suggestion of it was enough for him to undermine you.

Your gaze slid to Seungcheol, who sat at the head of the chamber, his composed expression barely shifting, save for a slow, almost imperceptible nod. He agreed.

"Isn't that why the Princess Consort has yet to resume her duties for the Moonlight Event?" you countered, your voice calm but edged with a subtle challenge. The words weren’t just a retort; they were a pointed reminder. Seungcheol’s wife, the Princess Consort, had recently given birth to a daughter—a fact you knew all too well.

The assistant stiffened, his expression faltering. Seungcheol’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his gaze meeting yours. The tension in the room thickened, an unspoken clash of authority.

"She has just given birth... to a daughter," you added, your gaze never leaving Seungcheol’s. The implication was clear: if his wife could be granted leniency due to motherhood, then there was no reason for anyone to cast doubt on your capacity to lead.

The minister cleared his throat, desperate to steer the meeting away from the growing unease. "Given the considerations presented," he announced, his voice slightly strained, "Ongju Y/n will continue to lead the project related to external affairs."

A polite smile graced your lips as the meeting concluded, but beneath it, a fierce determination simmered. You were not just a princess, not just a wife—you were a leader. And no one, not even Seungcheol or his silent approval of the assistant’s slight, would diminish that.

"That was bold," Jisoo remarked, falling into step beside you as you walked back to the office. His voice was calm, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

You cast a brief glance at your older brother before your gaze shifted to the training grounds, where Commander Jeon—your husband—stood tall, addressing the new Hwarang recruits with his usual unwavering demeanor.

"I have no reason to fear him," you stated plainly, your tone edged with defiance. "His mother is the true snake."

Jisoo’s expression shifted, his amusement replaced by alarm. "We shouldn’t speak of the Queen in such a manner," he whispered urgently, his voice barely above a breath.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes, we can. And we will. We will speak of the Queen however we see fit—especially when I become Queen."

Jisoo’s eyes widened slightly, your words rendering him momentarily speechless. His usual composure faltered as he studied your face, searching for any hint of hesitation. But there was none.

Not waiting for a response, you resumed your stride, your steps swift and purposeful. From the training grounds, Wonwoo’s sharp eyes caught sight of you—your figure moving with fierce resolve. He watched you, a faint sense of awe mingling with his curiosity. In that moment, you looked like someone prepared to set the entire kingdom ablaze if necessary.

He had known you possessed a spark, but now it was as though a fire had been ignited within you.

And as he observed you, a quiet thought settled in his mind—had he, perhaps, been the one to light that flame? Or had he merely uncovered a side of you that had always been waiting to burn just like his plan?

Wonwoo rode out of the capital under the cloak of night, the rhythmic thud of his horse’s hooves a steady companion on the quiet, moonlit path. After ensuring you were safely asleep in your chamber, he slipped away, the chill of the night air biting at his skin as he traveled for two hours beyond the bustling city.

His destination was a secluded village nestled among misty hills—a place few knew he frequented. Here, he wasn’t Commander Jeon, the King’s esteemed military leader. He was simply Wonwoo, a son of the fallen Jeon Kingdom. His colleagues here were not Hwarang warriors or palace officials but the remnants of his bloodline—the left Jeons.

These were the people who had survived the brutal Silla invasion, who had fled with nothing but their lives and the shattered pride of their fallen kingdom. His uncle, a former commander of the Jeon Kingdom, had raised him among these survivors, forging him into a man who bore the weight of two identities. Wonwoo was taught not just to survive but to excel. He mastered politics, combat, and military strategy under his uncle’s strict guidance.

The fall of the Jeon Kingdom was a story written in blood and ash—a once-proud realm crushed beneath Silla’s might. Yet in the shadows of this village, the Jeons lived on, rebuilding a life far from the eyes of the conquerors. Wonwoo was their hope, their quiet vengeance, a man who had clawed his way into the very heart of Silla’s military—becoming a Commander of the Hwarang, the elite force of the kingdom that had destroyed his home.

Tonight, as he dismounted his horse and walked among his kin, the whispers of old stories and the weight of his lineage pressed heavily upon him. Here, he was not just a commander—he was a prince without a throne, a leader of a scattered people who saw him as a symbol of resilience and a future they had not given up on.

"Looking good after a marriage, Wonwoo..." Jungkook, his cousin, teased with a grin as Wonwoo dismounted his horse, the familiar warmth of the hidden village greeting him. The moonlight bathed the settlement, its humble houses a stark contrast to the grandeur of the palace.

Wonwoo's lips curled into a faint smile as he approached Jungkook, handing over the reins. But before he could reply, a familiar voice rang out, full of excitement.

"Commander Jeon!" Chan’s voice cut through the crisp night air, and moments later, the boy came running, his small frame colliding against Wonwoo in an eager hug.

Wonwoo’s expression softened. "How are you, Prince?" he asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

"I miss my sister. Did you bring her today?" Chan looked up, eyes wide with hope.

Wonwoo shook his head, the gentleness in his gaze unwavering. "She’s been busy these days, but I promise to let her know you miss her."

The sound of steady footsteps approached, and Wonwoo turned to see his uncle, Donghyuk, stepping out of the main chamber, his weathered face breaking into a subtle smile at the sight of his nephew.

"How’s the wedding? Are you staying tonight?" Donghyuk asked, his voice a mix of concern and pride.

Wonwoo gave a slight bow before falling into step beside his uncle, leading them toward the quiet of the residence. "I can’t stay long. I’ll leave before dawn. But I wanted to report on our progress. I’m working hard on our plan, Uncle."

Donghyuk nodded, his expression one of cautious approval. "Good job, son. Your parents would be proud. We’re getting there."

Behind them, Chan laughed brightly, already engrossed in some playful banter with Jungkook. Yet as Wonwoo stepped into the residence, the warmth faded, replaced by the weight of his hidden duty. The shadow of their shared legacy loomed ever closer, and he knew that each step he took brought them one step nearer to their long-awaited retribution.

Wonwoo settled into the dimly lit chamber, the heavy scent of burning incense mingling with the damp, earthy aroma of the secluded residence. His uncle, Donghyuk, leaned back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on his nephew. Jungkook stood by the window, his playful demeanor replaced with a serious expression.

"You've done well," Donghyuk began, his voice a low rumble. "Marrying the Ongju—King’s only daughter. Our bloodline finally has a foothold in their palace."

Wonwoo’s expression remained unreadable, his jaw tense. "Efforts had paid. She trusts me more than she realizes now. And soon, she will trust me enough to do anything I say."

Donghyuk’s lips curled into a thin smile. "Good. You must keep her close. Make her see you as the only ally she can rely on. If we are to bring down the Queen and the King, we need someone on the inside—someone who can move freely, make decisions without suspicion."

Jungkook’s voice cut in, sharp and direct. "But what about the King? He is no fool. Even if the Queen falls, he may stand in our way."

"That’s why we need Seungcheol," Wonwoo stated, his voice cold. "He despises the King’s power over the court, and he resents me. But his jealousy toward his sister can be useful. I will manipulate their strained relationship, turn it into a wedge between them."

"And then?" Donghyuk asked, his gaze sharpening.

Wonwoo leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a darkness that matched the room’s shadows. "Then we use her. With her as a pawn, we can dismantle the King’s power and take the throne."

A silence settled over the room, thick and heavy. Finally, Donghyuk chuckled. "A Jeon as Queen of Silla. Poetic justice, wouldn't you say?"

Wonwoo didn’t respond, his expression cold and calculated. The warmth he showed you—the gentle touches, the soft smiles—were all part of a carefully woven lie.

"We will avenge our people," he declared, his voice low but laced with resolve. "And Silla will fall by its own greed and betrayal."

"Where were you this morning?"

Wonwoo's focus shifted to you as you stepped into his office, a commanding presence in the kingdom's staff uniform. The external affairs badge sat proudly on your shoulder, and a stack of books rested in your arms. You looked every bit the charismatic diplomat, a stark contrast to the serene, angelic figure he watched sleeping just last night.

"You're staring," you noted, crossing your arms and tilting your head, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

Wonwoo sighed, feeling a faint tension in his chest as he shook off his thoughts. "Your father summoned me regarding your mother's case. We found proof."

Your eyes widened, the books slipping slightly in your grasp. "Really? My mother... she wasn't at fault, right?"

Wonwoo nodded, reaching for a scroll on his desk. He unfurled it with a practiced ease, revealing the findings of months of investigation. "We uncovered a potential motive involving the Queen, but we still need a witness. I believe the Queen has ensured that everyone involved in your mother's death is either silenced or loyal to her."

A sharp breath escaped your lips. "Is the Queen going to be sentenced?"

Wonwoo's dark eyes lingered on you, his expression careful. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "She might."

Your knees buckled, and you sank onto the cold stone floor. Relief and shock washed over you in equal measure. You had always suspected the truth, yet seeing it confirmed felt like a blade twisting in your chest. Your mother was murdered—accused of black magic by the Queen, all to tear you away from any claim to the throne.

"You look... startled," Wonwoo remarked, his voice softer now, tinged with something unreadable.

You shook your head, wiping a faint trace of moisture from your eyes. "Was it because of me?"

Wonwoo's brow arched slightly. "What do you mean?"

"The Queen killed my mother. Was it because of me?" you whispered, a tremor in your voice.

A brief silence hung between you before Wonwoo spoke, each word measured. "There's no specific motive yet. But it seems she wanted to secure our Seja's place... and to do that, removing your mother's influence was necessary."

"And that influence... was from me."

Wonwoo’s gaze softened, but his voice remained steady. "It was not your fault."

But in the quiet that followed, you weren’t so sure.

That night, the moon hung low, casting silver light over the palace gardens. Wonwoo waited by the secluded pavilion just outside the palace walls, his figure blending with the shadows. His eyes scanned the path until he saw you approaching, wrapped in a dark cloak to avoid attention.

"You came," he said, a hint of relief escaping in his voice despite himself.

"Of course," you replied, pulling the hood away from your face. The moonlight touched your features, the cool breeze tousling your hair. "I need to know more... how can I secure justice for my mother?"

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened, his expression serious. "The only way to ensure justice is for you to take a stronger position in court. As long as the Queen’s influence over the ministers remains, any accusations against her will be buried."

You frowned, your fingers nervously toying with the edge of your cloak. "But I’m just a princess—no real power in the court’s decisions." The tone in your words showed a vulnerability he had never heard before.

"Not yet," Wonwoo corrected, his voice firm. "But if you strengthen your alliances, build trust with the right ministers, and show them your capability... you can turn the tide."

"And you... you’ll help me?"

Wonwoo met your gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Always."

Your shoulders seemed to relax, and there it was again—that smile. Genuine, grateful. A warmth spread in his chest, a feeling he tried to deny.

"Thank you, Wonwoo..." you whispered, stepping closer. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Wonwoo felt his breath hitch for a moment, your proximity disarming him. He nodded, forcing his voice to stay steady. "I’m just doing what’s right."

As you turned to leave, the shadows seemed colder without you. Wonwoo stood there for a moment, watching your figure disappear into the moonlit path. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his mind racing.

She trusts me.

But for the first time, the thought didn’t bring satisfaction. It brought guilt.

"It's not a sin to stare at your wife," Jisoo's teasing voice seeped into Wonwoo's ears, pulling him back to reality. Wonwoo shifted his gaze from you, where you stood across the training grounds, back to Jisoo and Seungcheol, who were sparring with swords.

"I'm not staring. I'm monitoring," Wonwoo muttered, adjusting his grip on his sword. "One more round," he added, signaling another bout. Jisoo groaned, wiping the sweat from his forehead, while Seungcheol got back into position without complaint.

Laughter echoed from the other side of the field—your laughter, light and melodic. You stood beside the younger trainees, Seungkwan and Dokyeom, showing them proper sword techniques and gently calming Seungkwan, who was rubbing his head after a clumsy blow from Dokyeom.

"Are we going to witness another spar between the Seja and Ongju?" Dokyeom asked innocently once the session ended.

You raised an eyebrow, your gaze shifting to Seungcheol, who was catching his breath after sparring with Jisoo. Meanwhile, Jisoo was already sprawled on the ground, panting.

Seungcheol straightened, gripping his sword again. "I'm always ready, Ongju," he declared, determination flaring in his eyes.

Wonwoo's gaze remained fixed on you. He noticed how your fingers wrapped around your sword—different, more resolute. As you drew it, the sunlight caught the blade, revealing a stunningly ornate weapon with your name engraved on it, adorned with delicate floral patterns. It was new.

A murmur of awe spread among the onlookers, Seungkwan and Dokyeom exchanging excited whispers as they watched. Your skill was undeniable, each movement calculated, each step confident. Yet, Wonwoo noticed you were holding back, your strikes precise but never too forceful.

Yet as the spar continued, something changed. Your strikes grew sharper, your eyes more intense. Seungcheol’s defense faltered under your relentless assault, his sword flying out of his grasp, clattering against the stone floor. He stumbled, gasping for air, and there you stood—your blade inched away against his throat.

"Enough for today." Wonwoo's voice cut through the tension as he swiftly stepped between you and Seungcheol, his hand gently pushing your sword down.

Your eyes, fierce a moment ago, softened at his touch. You took a deep breath, sheathing your sword and looking away.

"You shouldn't let your emotions guide your sword," Wonwoo whispered, his voice low but firm. "It only leads to regret."

You clenched your jaw, your gaze fixed on the ground. "It wasn't emotions... It was control."

Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, the words weighing heavily between you both. And yet, beneath your calm facade, he could sense the storm raging within.

"Draw your sword," Wonwoo instructed, his voice steady as he unsheathed his own. The training field lay quiet and empty, a canvas of fading sunlight catching on the polished blades. It was just the two of you, shadows stretching long on the ground.

"Seja let his emotions get the better of him earlier," Wonwoo continued, guiding you through a familiar technique. His movements were precise, controlled, each swing calculated. "And you almost let yours take over too."

Your swords clashed, the sharp ring of metal slicing through the silence. You adjusted your stance, trying to mirror his movements, but his expertise made it feel like a dance you struggled to keep up with.

"Emotions are a luxury in the field," he reminded you, his voice low but firm. "You should let your head lead everything—your mind should be your weapon, not just your blade."

You gritted your teeth, pushing against his strikes. "I'm from the women's military, Wonwoo. What do you expect?"

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Women are quick learners. They’re agile too. You have an advantage."

In a swift, fluid motion, he twisted his wrist, catching your sword at an angle and pulling your arm. The force made your weapon slip from your grasp, and before you could even react, your body collided with his. His arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you as you let out a surprised squeal.

Your breath hitched, your chest pressing against his. For a second, you were close enough to feel the rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him.

"Are you messing with me?" you murmured, your eyes narrowing at the faint grin on his face.

"Perhaps," he replied, his voice teasing but his gaze unwavering. "But remember—losing focus, even for a moment, can be costly."

Your heart raced, a mix of frustration and something else entirely swirling within you. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself staying there for just a heartbeat longer, caught in the quiet, lingering closeness.

"Argh…"

Wonwoo’s pained groan filled the quiet training field, and you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter, your giggle light and melodic.

"You’re right," you teased, leaning back slightly while still caught in his hold. "Losing focus for even a moment can be costly."

Wonwoo glanced down, seeing your foot firmly planted on his, the sharp ache radiating from the spot. Yet, despite the pain, a chuckle slipped from his lips.

"Noted," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. "But I didn't think you'd take my lesson so literally."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh? I thought a great commander like you would’ve been prepared for any surprise attack."

Wonwoo’s smile widened, and in a swift move, he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. "Careful, princess. Provoking your instructor might lead to more intense training."

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, but you maintained your defiant smile. "Is that a threat, Commander Jeon?"

"A promise," he replied, stepping back and letting go of your waist, though his eyes lingered on you for a second longer.

From the upper balcony of the palace overlooking the training field, the King stood silently, his sharp eyes observing the scene below. His stern expression softened as he watched you and Wonwoo. His beloved daughter, always so fierce and resolute, now laughed freely in the presence of her husband. The sound of your laughter, carried by the gentle breeze, reached his ears like a soothing melody.

Beside him, his trusted advisor cleared his throat softly. "Your Majesty, it seems the princess has found comfort in Commander Jeon’s company."

The King’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Comfort? Perhaps. But more importantly, she seems happy."

He had been wary when you insisted on marrying Wonwoo, even more so when the marriage was hastened. There were whispers—speculations that you were driven by something more than love. Yet watching you now, eyes bright and smile unwavering as you bantered with Wonwoo, the King’s doubts faded.

"She has always been strong," the King murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "But even the strongest need someone who can match their strength... and soften their heart."

Wonwoo’s gentle laughter joined yours as he leaned closer, whispering something that made you swat at him playfully. The King chuckled under his breath. His daughter, who once stood as a fierce warrior on the battlefield and an unyielding presence in court, was now a young woman in love—blissfully unaware of his watchful gaze.

"Perhaps Commander Jeon is the right choice," the King whispered, his tone more certain now. "A man who can make her smile so freely might also be the one who can protect her in ways even I cannot."

The advisor nodded but remained silent, recognizing the rare moment of a father’s quiet pride and relief.

Below, you stood with Wonwoo, his voice low and urgent. "The confrontation with the Queen is tomorrow. My team found the black magic tool in her chamber. The same type used against your mother. This is our strongest evidence yet."

Your pulse quickened, and you leaned closer. "So it’s true… she used black magic to murder my mother?"

"It seems so." Wonwoo’s tone was steady. "But you need to be wary of your brother. He might act impulsively. The Queen is his mother, and if he feels cornered—"

"You’ll be there," you whispered, your voice laced with trust.

Wonwoo’s grip on your back tightened slightly. "Yes, I will. But I need you to be ready for everything. This is the moment of truth. Tell me…" His voice softened, his breath brushing against your ear. "What do you want to be?"

Silence settled between you. The wind seemed to hush, the distant hum of the palace growing faint.

"A queen." Your voice was unwavering.

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. His hand moved in soothing circles on your back. "I thought so. Then we will make sure you become one."

Above, the King’s smile only grew, watching you two so close, completely unaware of the quiet storm brewing in his own palace.

The next morning, Seungcheol stood by the palace balcony, staring at the distant mountains. The crisp air did little to calm the storm in his chest. Rumors of the Queen's chamber being sealed and whispers of dark artifacts found within had shaken the palace. His mother denied everything when he asked, her voice steady but her eyes avoiding his.

"Seja."

The familiar voice of Commander Jeon pulled him from his thoughts. Wonwoo approached calmly, his expression unreadable.

"You seem troubled," Wonwoo remarked, leaning casually against the railing.

"Of course, I am," Seungcheol replied sharply. "These baseless accusations against my mother… They disrespect the royal family."

"Accusations are dangerous," Wonwoo agreed, his tone neutral. "But avoiding the truth can be even more dangerous."

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Wonwoo’s gaze stayed on the distant courtyard where you stood, speaking with some palace staff. "Loyalty is a fine thing, Seja. But it should never blind you."

"My loyalty is to my family," Seungcheol stated firmly.

"As it should be." Wonwoo turned slightly, his face thoughtful. "And family is not just by blood. It's about those you protect, those you stand beside… those you trust."

Seungcheol’s grip on the balcony tightened. "If you're here to lecture me—"

"Not at all." Wonwoo’s voice was calm, almost warm. "I'm simply reminding you that loyalty to the wrong person can cost you everything."

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. "You speak in riddles, Commander."

"Do I?" Wonwoo finally looked directly at him, his eyes steady. "I speak only of ensuring that those we care about are safe. And that means making difficult choices."

Seungcheol said nothing, his gaze shifting back to you, watching as you laughed with the staff, a bright presence even in the tense atmosphere of the palace.

Wonwoo's voice softened, almost a whisper. "It would be a shame if someone tried to harm her... or use her."

Seungcheol’s breath caught. "Who would dare?"

"Who indeed?" Wonwoo stepped away, his tone light again. "Be careful, Seja. The palace is full of secrets. And those who survive are the ones who choose their allies wisely."

And with that, Wonwoo walked away, leaving Seungcheol in quiet turmoil.

The grand hall was filled with tension as the King sat at the head of the chamber, surrounded by ministers and royal advisors. You stood beside Commander Jeon and his investigation team, the air thick with anticipation. The evidence of the Queen’s dark practices lay displayed—charms, sigils, and artifacts pulled from her private chamber. Wonwoo’s voice was steady as he presented the findings.

"After extensive investigation, we have uncovered these items in the Queen's chamber. The symbols match those of forbidden practices."

Whispers erupted among the ministers. Some looked shocked, others whispered among themselves, and the King’s face darkened with disbelief.

"This is a grave accusation," one minister dared to speak, "Are we certain of their authenticity?"

"My team has verified them," Wonwoo stated confidently. "This is no fabrication."

The doors suddenly burst open, and Seungcheol stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury. "Fabrication? That’s exactly what this is!" he shouted. "This is a scheme orchestrated by them—by her and her husband!"

The room fell silent. The King leaned forward, his face unreadable.

"Seungcheol," his voice was low, "mind your words."

But Seungcheol was beyond reason. His gaze fixated on you. "You have always been a thorn in my mother’s side. And now you bring this falsehood to tear our family apart? Have you no shame?"

You stepped forward, your voice unwavering. "Are you underestimating my husband's professionalism?"

"Professionalism?" Seungcheol scoffed, unsheathing his sword. "This is a coup disguised as justice!"

Before anyone could react, Seungcheol lunged forward, his sword aimed directly at you. Gasps erupted across the chamber.

But Wonwoo was faster. In a heartbeat, he moved between you and Seungcheol, his own sword drawn and his body acting as a shield. Metal clashed with a resounding ring, and Wonwoo’s steely gaze locked with Seungcheol’s.

"Seja! I order you to stop, or I will take your crown prince title for tainting the palace with your recklessness!" the King’s voice boomed, his authority undeniable.

Seungcheol’s face paled, his sword trembling against Wonwoo’s. The room was frozen in silence.

"Step back, Seja," Wonwoo's voice was calm, but his gaze held a quiet warning. "Do not mistake your anger for righteousness."

Seungcheol's breathing was heavy, his rage and desperation clear. But the weight of the King’s words sank in, and slowly, he lowered his sword, stepping back with a glare that could burn through steel.

You exhaled, your hand clutching the back of Wonwoo’s sleeve. Wonwoo’s sword remained up, protecting you until he was certain the threat was gone.

"Escort the crown prince out. He will remain under supervision until this investigation is concluded," the King commanded, and the guards moved immediately.

Seungcheol’s gaze lingered on you, a mix of betrayal and fury, before he was pulled away.

The King’s voice returned to its composed, regal tone. "Commander Jeon, proceed with the presentation. This matter will be judged without bias."

Wonwoo gave a respectful nod, his hand gently touching yours in a silent reassurance. The investigation continued, but the room had already felt the tremor of a family on the edge of a storm.

Later that evening, you were summoned to the royal chambers, the air thick with uncertainty. The King’s advisors had left for the night, but the weight of the day’s events lingered heavily in the silence. As you stepped into the dimly lit room, the King was seated by his desk, papers scattered in front of him. He looked older tonight, wearier than usual, as if the pressure of the crown were beginning to take its toll.

"Ongju," he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours. "Come sit with me."

You approached cautiously, wondering what new twist this complicated situation would bring. The King motioned for you to sit across from him, his expression serious.

"I have been thinking," he began, his voice low but steady. "You have shown great strength in recent days, and your actions have proven you are no longer just my daughter."

You blinked, uncertain of where this conversation was headed. The King studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful.

"Do you understand what I mean?" he continued, his voice almost hesitant. "The whispers... they are growing louder. There are those who believe that Seungcheol is the rightful heir, that he is the only one worthy of the throne. Yet, there are others who look at you and see the same strength in you. You are the daughter of a king—your bloodline is noble, and your actions have proven your capability."

A tightness formed in your chest as his words hung in the air. You had known the politics of the court were always about power, but to hear your own father speak of succession, especially now, made everything feel more real.

"You are considering... me?" you asked quietly, unsure of how to process what he was implying.

The King nodded, his face serious. "I am. It’s not just about blood, but about what you can offer to the kingdom. What you’ve shown today, in the face of threats and uncertainty, it’s not something Seungcheol has done. He is... impulsive. He acts with his emotions leading him, and that could be dangerous. You, on the other hand, have a steady hand. You know when to act and when to hold back."

You swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. The throne was no longer just a symbol of power—it was a dangerous position, one that could bring enemies closer than ever.

"Seungcheol has the Queen’s backing," the King added, his voice dropping into a more guarded tone. "And you’ve seen the lengths to which she will go to secure his place. Her supporters are pushing hard for him to take the throne, and there are whispers in the shadows... that if I am not careful, I may lose everything. Not just the throne, but my life."

Your heart quickened. The Queen’s influence was vast, and her supporters, many of them still deeply embedded in the palace, were a force to be reckoned with.

"Your mother’s death was only the beginning," the King murmured, more to himself than to you. "The Queen will stop at nothing. I have tried to keep her at bay, but her reach is long. If Seungcheol takes the throne under her influence, he could be just another pawn. The court will be hers to control."

The King looked at you then, his eyes softening. "I need you to be ready. You must prepare yourself. You are not just a daughter of this kingdom—you are the future of it. If you want to be the one to wear the crown, you must take it. But know this, my child..." His voice faltered for a moment, something raw seeping through. "There are dangers ahead. Many will try to destroy you before you even get the chance to rule."

You nodded, a chill settling deep in your bones. The path before you was dangerous, fraught with enemies both outside and within.

"I won’t let them take what is rightfully yours," you said, your voice resolute. "I will fight for this kingdom, for you."

The King reached out, taking your hand in his. "I know you will, my child. And I will be here to guide you. But remember—being the heir to this throne is not a privilege. It is a responsibility that weighs heavier than anything else."

The weight of his words crushed down on you, but there was no turning back now. You had already made your decision. Whatever it took, you would do whatever was necessary to protect the kingdom—and yourself—from the shadows that loomed ever closer.

"You must prepare for what is to come," the King added, his voice thick with the gravity of the moment. "You and Wonwoo both. He is your strength, and you are his."

You nodded, a silent promise forming in your heart. With the Queen’s forces lurking in the background, and Seungcheol’s volatile nature, the game of thrones had only just begun. And you would be ready.

The news spread like wildfire across the kingdom, swiftly moving from the royal court to the streets, and every corner of the kingdom buzzed with whispers. The King’s announcement that you, Princess Y/n, were now considered a potential successor to the throne, alongside Crown Prince Seungcheol, sent shockwaves through the kingdom.

For years, it had been a given that Seungcheol, backed by the Queen’s influence, was the clear heir. But now, with your name officially in the running, the political landscape was thrown into chaos. Supporters of the Queen saw it as an affront to her carefully laid plans, while those who had quietly hoped for your rise whispered that this was the beginning of a new era.

In the royal court, tensions flared. Ministers and advisors who had once been steadfast in their loyalty to Seungcheol were now divided. Some saw the King’s decision as a brilliant move to balance power, ensuring that the kingdom’s future would be in capable hands, no matter which path it took. Others feared that it was the beginning of a deadly power struggle, one that would tear the kingdom apart.

Among the nobles, debates raged. Some secretly hoped for Seungcheol’s downfall, seeing your rise as a way to bring back stability. They admired your calm, measured approach and saw it as a stark contrast to Seungcheol’s emotional decisions. Others, particularly those loyal to the Queen, viewed your claim as a direct threat to their own power and wealth, and they would do whatever it took to ensure you were never crowned.

The people, meanwhile, were divided. Some viewed you as the beacon of hope, a princess who had shown courage and strength despite the odds. Your involvement in your mother’s case, your unwavering determination to protect the kingdom, made you a symbol of a new, more just rule. Others, however, still saw Seungcheol as the rightful heir, the one groomed for the throne from birth, and they were hesitant to accept any challenge to his position.

The Queen’s supporters were particularly vocal, spreading rumors and making it known that they would not tolerate such a disruption to the throne. They accused you and Wonwoo of conspiring to undermine Seungcheol, even going so far as to say that your actions were merely a way to avenge your mother’s death, a personal vendetta that should not influence the fate of the kingdom.

Inside the palace walls, the pressure mounted. Seungcheol’s reaction to the announcement was swift and volatile. His pride, already wounded from his earlier confrontation with you, flared up again. He felt betrayed—not only by his father but also by the very court that had once rallied behind him. It was one thing for you to challenge his position indirectly, but now the King’s words had solidified your place as a contender. This wasn’t just about a title anymore—it was a threat to everything Seungcheol believed he was entitled to.

As the whispers in the court grew louder, the inevitable became clearer. The Queen’s treachery could no longer be denied. The evidence—irrefutable and damning—had been laid out for all to see. The black magic tools found in her chambers, the dark rituals she had orchestrated in the shadows of the palace, and the bloodstains of countless plots woven to ensure her son, Seungcheol, would inherit the throne had all been uncovered. The King, with great reluctance, had no choice but to order her banishment from the palace.

The Queen was stripped of her title, her wealth, and her influence. Her supporters in the court were purged, one by one, as the King acted swiftly, making an example of anyone who dared to question his decision. The Queen was sent outside the palace, cast into the cold and unforgiving world, her once grand power reduced to nothing more than whispers in the wind.

Seungcheol’s reaction was expected, though no less shocking. He was enraged. His mother, the one person who had always stood by him, had been torn from his side, and he could not, would not, allow it. He stood before the King, sword in hand, his face twisted in a fury that had never been seen before.

“Father,” Seungcheol spat, his voice a venomous whisper. “You’ve betrayed her. You’ve betrayed me. This is not justice—this is a political game, and you are a fool to think I’ll sit back and allow you to take everything from me.”

The King stood resolute, his gaze unyielding, though the pain was visible in his eyes. “Your mother’s actions were not of justice, Seungcheol. She tried to seize the throne through deceit, through murder. I cannot allow her, or her supporters, to hold any power in this kingdom.”

Seungcheol’s grip on his sword tightened. “Then I will take what is mine by right. I will not let you destroy everything I’ve fought for. You’ve destroyed my mother, and now I will destroy you. I will take the throne by force if I have to.”

The room went silent as the tension in the air thickened. The King, with his final breath of resolve, turned to you. “Princess Y/n... You are now the only one who can take the kingdom forward. Seungcheol’s rage will only burn everything in his path. We have to stop him.”

But even as he spoke, it was clear that the kingdom was on the brink of collapse. Seungcheol’s plan was already in motion. His supporters, loyal to the Queen, were rallying around him, and whispers of a bloody coup began to spread.

As Seungcheol gathered his forces, plotting his revenge, he turned to the one person he believed could take the throne from his father—you. In his eyes, you were now the only option left to secure the kingdom’s future, even if it meant eliminating the King in the process.

“You, Princess Y/n,” Seungcheol said, his voice cold and calculated as he faced you one evening in the royal courtyard, “are the only one who can stop this madness. I will not let my father destroy everything. He has chosen to destroy my mother, and now, I will do what’s necessary to take what is mine.”

He stepped closer, his sword at his side, but there was no threat in his posture—only an eerie calmness. “The King is weak. His time is over. You will either stand with me, or you will stand with him. I will take the throne. The question is whether you’ll be by my side, or if you’ll watch me burn the palace to the ground.”

The choice was placed before you. The kingdom was teetering on the edge of chaos. The King, your father, was desperate to maintain control, but Seungcheol’s anger and thirst for justice were undeniable.

And there, in the silence of the night, as the storm clouds gathered on the horizon, you knew your answer.

To take the throne now meant to fight a war—one that would tear the kingdom apart. To stay loyal to the King was to risk your life in a game of politics, where enemies lurked in every shadow. But to align with Seungcheol, to stand at his side, meant betraying your own blood, your own father.

The path ahead was unclear, but one thing was certain: the battle for the throne was about to begin. Whether you would rise as the future queen or fall victim to the flames of war, only time would tell.

The weight of the world pressed against your chest, each breath a struggle as you stood alone in the quiet garden under the pale moonlight. The cold metal of your sword felt like ice in your trembling grip, and your vision blurred with tears that you could no longer hold back. The scent of fresh earth and damp leaves filled the air, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging within you.

You didn’t want this.

Not the crown. Not the power. Not the throne built on blood and suffering. A sob escaped your lips, raw and desperate, as your knees buckled, and you fell to the ground. The sword slipped from your grasp, the metallic clang echoing in the darkness, but you didn’t care. Your hands covered your face, and your shoulders shook with silent cries.

"I don't want this... I don't want any of this..." The words spilled from you, muffled by your own palms.

You felt a presence before you saw him. Wonwoo’s warm, calloused hands reached for you, gently pulling your hands away from your tear-stained face. His touch was steady, but his gaze betrayed a deep concern, an emotion you hadn’t seen before in his sharp, calculating eyes.

“Y/n…” His voice was a whisper, soft yet pained. He crouched before you, his dark eyes searching yours, and the sight of your tears seemed to shatter something within him.

“I never wanted this... I just wanted... I just wanted to protect them... to protect you...” Your voice broke, and you felt your chest tighten again. “But... all I see is blood... blood on my hands, blood on my family...”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched. For so long, he had been the one with a plan, the one who held his resolve like an unbreakable shield. But seeing you like this—vulnerable, broken—every calculated thought he had ever harbored, every whispered promise of revenge, crumbled. His ambitions, his hatred, even his own thirst for justice seemed insignificant now.

“I never wanted to lie to you,” he whispered, his fingers gently trailing along your cheek, then falling away. “But everything I’ve done, everything I planned… it started long before I met you.”

A cold sense of dread washed over you. The weight of his words pressed down, making your breath hitch. “What are you saying?”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his gaze shifting to the moonlit garden before he spoke again. “I wasn’t just a simple commander in Silla’s Hwarang. I was born as Jeon Wonwoo, the crown prince of the fallen Jeon Kingdom—overthrown and destroyed by Silla’s forces.”

Your blood ran cold. “The Jeon Kingdom… the one that was… massacred…”

He nodded. “My family was killed. I was only a child, taken in by my uncle who survived the invasion. He raised me in the shadows, trained me for one purpose—to take revenge on Silla’s royal family. To bring justice for my people, my family… for everything we lost.”

“Revenge…” you echoed, the word like ash on your tongue.

Wonwoo’s gaze fell, guilt clouding his sharp eyes. “I infiltrated Silla, rose through the ranks, and became a commander. I built connections, watched the court, and gathered allies. And then… I met you.”

You stepped back, your voice wavering. “So… you married me for your plan? To get closer to the throne? To manipulate me?”

“Initially, yes.” His voice was firm but laced with regret. “That was the plan. To use our marriage, to use your status, to bring down the queen and weaken the royal family. But…”

He took a step toward you, his hands trembling slightly. “But everything changed. You changed everything, Y/n. The moment I saw you fighting for your own place, for your own justice… I saw something beyond vengeance. I saw someone I didn’t want to hurt.”

Your heart raced painfully in your chest. “And now? Are you still trying to use me? Are you going to kill the king? My brother?”

Wonwoo’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “No. Not anymore. I won’t hurt you or your family. Not if you don’t want it.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, tears stinging your eyes. “Not if I don’t want it? Wonwoo, everything is already falling apart! The queen is exiled, Seungcheol is desperate, the kingdom is on the brink of chaos—and I’m a pawn in your game!”

His expression twisted with pain. “You’re not a pawn. Not to me. Not anymore.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and his thumbs gently wiped them away. “But everything is ruined, Wonwoo. I’ve hurt people. I’ve done things I never wanted to. And it was all for a lie…”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “Not for me. Not anymore.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” his hand gently resting on your cheek, wiping away the fresh tears. “We can stop. We can let it go.”

You stared at him, your breath hitching. “Wonwoo… after everything… you would stop?”

His eyes darkened with a thousand emotions, but he nodded, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Yes. If it means you won’t cry again, then I’ll stop. I will walk away from everything.”

A sob escaped your lips again, but this time it was softer, almost a breath of relief. You leaned into his touch, letting his warmth ground you, letting his calm voice silence the chaos in your mind.

“But… Seungcheol… the King… the court… they will never stop. They will turn on us… they will—”

“Then we will face them together.” Wonwoo’s voice was resolute now, a fire in his eyes. “Not for revenge, not for power… but for you. For us.”

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, your tears soaking into his robes. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, a quiet promise in his embrace. The sword lay forgotten on the cold ground beside you, the moonlight reflecting off its blade—a faint glimmer in the darkness.

And for the first time, in the midst of this chaos, you felt a flicker of hope.

The king had fallen under his own son's sword in the dead of night. By dawn, the news spread like wildfire, leaving the kingdom in turmoil. Whispers filled every corner, from the bustling markets to the quiet courtyards. The ministry acted swiftly, stripping Seungcheol of his title as crown prince, a desperate attempt to maintain order. But instead of breaking his resolve, it only fueled his rage. Seungcheol’s ambition turned merciless, his gaze now fixed on one target—you. The only obstacle between him and the throne.

The grand hall was a storm of frantic murmurs, ministers and generals speaking over each other, panic evident in their faces. But your voice cut through the chaos with the clarity of a blade.

"Evacuate the people outside the capital at first light," you commanded, your voice unwavering. "Prioritize children, women, and teachers. All military units must be prepared for combat. I will face Seungcheol myself."

Silence followed your words, the ministers exchanging uneasy glances, but none dared to challenge you. Your presence, a commanding force, anchored them in the midst of chaos.

"I’m going with you." Wonwoo’s voice rang out, steady but tinged with a desperate protectiveness. As Commander Jeon, his duty was clear, but as your husband—an even stronger bond pulled him toward you.

But you shook your head, your expression resolute. "No, Commander Jeon. Your responsibility is to ensure the safety of our people. They are your shield, and you are theirs. Trust me to do what I must."

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened, his knuckles pale as they gripped the hilt of his sword. "Y/n—"

"Don’t make this harder than it already is," you whispered, forcing a faint smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "You taught me to lead with my head, not just my heart. So that’s exactly what I’m doing."

Wonwoo’s gaze softened, a storm of emotions swirling within him—fear, anger, and something far too close to grief. But he knew better than to argue with you now. Not when every second mattered.

"I will protect them," he promised, his voice low but fierce. "But promise me… you won’t take unnecessary risks."

"I promise I will do what I must. For this kingdom. For our people."

As the grand hall emptied, the heavy doors groaned shut, muffling the frantic echoes of preparation beyond them. But in the stillness that followed, you remained—standing beneath the vast banners of the royal crest, the flickering torchlight casting shadows across your resolute face.

A familiar warmth wrapped around your wrist, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned to see Wonwoo, his dark eyes fierce yet softened, a contradiction of fear and longing.

"You don’t have to do this alone," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but each word weighed with emotion. "Please… let me stand by your side."

"You already are," you whispered, your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "Wonwoo, if something happens to me—"

"Don’t." His voice broke slightly, his grip tightening on your wrist. "Don’t talk like that."

"You taught me to face reality," you countered gently. "And the reality is, I might not come back from this. Seungcheol is driven, and I cannot guarantee—"

"I don't care what he is," Wonwoo interrupted, his other hand coming up to rest over yours against his cheek. "Listen to me. I never told you this… but I never planned to love you. I never planned for you to become the one person I cannot lose."

Your breath caught, his confession hitting you like a tidal wave. You had known him as a strategist, a man of unwavering resolve—a man who always seemed to know what he wanted. But in this moment, he was simply Wonwoo—the man who held your heart.

"Then don’t lose me," you whispered, leaning forward until your foreheads touched. "Stay alive. Protect our people. That’s your promise."

"And you?" His voice trembled, his hands now cradling your face. "What do you promise me?"

"I promise… I will fight with everything I have. And if I must fall—" you hesitated, your voice thick with emotion, "—I will fall knowing I loved you."

Wonwoo’s lips captured yours, desperate and fierce, a kiss that spoke of everything he couldn’t say. A promise. A plea. A goodbye he refused to give.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads remained touching, your breaths mingling in the tense silence. His eyes, dark and intense, held yours.

"I will come back to you," you whispered, the tears you tried to hold back finally slipping free. "I swear it."

"And I will be waiting," he whispered back, his thumb brushing away your tears. "No matter how long it takes."

As you pulled away, the cold air rushed between you, but Wonwoo’s warmth lingered—an invisible shield around your heart.

You turned, walking toward the door, the weight of war pressing upon your shoulders. But with each step, you held onto his promise, like a faint light guiding you through the darkness.

Wonwoo led the people to the hidden village where the remaining Jeons lived. His uncle listened intently as he explained the chaos that had erupted in the capital—the king’s fall, Seungcheol’s betrayal, and the abrupt turn of their once carefully planned revenge. The weight of bloodshed hung in the air, a bitter reminder of how far vengeance could twist one's soul.

“It’s over,” Wonwoo whispered, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Enough of this revenge. We’ve lost too much.”

His uncle placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a silent understanding passing between them.

Days turned to a week, and the village grew restless. News from the capital was scarce, tension simmering beneath the surface. The people prayed for peace, for the safety of their loved ones. But Wonwoo’s heart remained in turmoil. He found himself pacing at the village's edge, eyes fixed on the distant forest path, hoping for any sign of you.

Then, a rider arrived from the capital, his horse covered in dust, a royal emblem on his chest. Breathless and weary, he delivered the news.

"The Choi clan has fallen. The queen’s allies have been defeated. Seungcheol has been overthrown."

A collective gasp swept through the crowd, joy and relief spreading like wildfire. Mothers hugged their children, elders whispered thanks to the heavens, and even the warriors smiled with pride.

But Wonwoo remained still, his heart pounding against his ribs. “And what of the princess?” His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

The messenger smiled, “The capital is now secure, and the coronation of the new queen will be held in a month.”

Wonwoo’s vision blurred for a moment, the tension flooding out of him in a rush.

“She’s safe! My sister is safe!” Chan’s voice pierced the air, and he jumped up, hugging anyone nearby.

But Wonwoo’s relief was silent. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. A faint, shaky smile crossed his lips. You were safe.

“Commander!” his uncle’s voice snapped him back.

Wonwoo’s expression hardened with determination. “Prepare the people. Those who wish to return to the capital can do so. Our warriors will guide them for protection.”

“Yes, Commander!”

But even as his people moved in a flurry of preparation, Wonwoo was already mounting his horse. His grip on the reins was tight, his gaze locked on the forest path.

“I’m going back to her.” He spurred his horse, the powerful beast surging forward, hooves thundering against the ground. Trees blurred past him, the cold wind biting at his face, but none of it mattered.

His thoughts were filled with you—your fierce resolve, your gentle smile, your warmth.

“I’m coming to you.”

The gentle hum of the projector filled the spacious lecture hall, casting a soft, warm glow over the screen at the front. Jeon Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, his steady gaze meeting the curious faces of his students.

"And that's where our story ends," he concluded, a faint smile crossing his lips. "The tale of the Queen of Wonhwa and the turbulent rise of the Jeon family."

A hand shot up among the students. "Professor Jeon, how was their life after that? Did the queen live happily ever after with Commander Jeon?"

Wonwoo's smile deepened, but there was a subtle wistfulness in his eyes. "History is often silent on personal happiness. There isn't much evidence detailing their private lives. However, what we do know is that the Queen's reign marked a significant shift. Women's education began to establish itself as a formal part of the kingdom’s policies, and her son—later known as one of the most strategic kings in military history—led an era of unparalleled strength and prosperity."

The students whispered among themselves, a mixture of awe and curiosity in their expressions.

"So, was Commander Jeon the father of that legendary king?" another student dared to ask, leaning forward.

Wonwoo chuckled, "Historical records are unclear, but there are many who believe so. After all, the Queen’s most trusted advisor and protector was none other than Commander Jeon."

"Professor, do you think they loved each other?"

Wonwoo paused, his gaze drifting momentarily to the window where a gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside. His voice softened. "Love can be found in many forms—through trust, sacrifice, and shared ideals. Perhaps that is the greatest mystery of their tale."

The bell rang, and the students began packing their things, chattering about the lecture as they filed out. Wonwoo stood by his desk, collecting his notes, his fingers lingering on the worn pages of his lecture book.

As the last student left, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"I think you make it sound more dramatic each semester."

Wonwoo looked up to see you leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile on your lips.

"Perhaps," he admitted, his expression softening. "But you have to admit, it keeps them interested."

"Did you tell them about how the Queen and Commander Jeon would sneak out of the palace to share mooncakes under the stars?" you teased, stepping closer.

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. "That's not historically verified."

"Neither is their undying love, but you mentioned that."

"Touché." He leaned back against his desk, his smile lingering as his eyes met yours. "Shall we get some dinner?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Dinner? Or mooncakes under the stars?"

"Why not both?"

You laughed, taking his outstretched hand. Even after centuries, the story of the Queen of Wonhwa and Commander Jeon lived on—retold in history books and whispered between two souls who somehow always found their way back to each other.

Wonwoo closed his leather-bound lecture book, tucking it under his arm as he walked beside you. The hallway buzzed with students rushing to their next classes, but his focus was entirely on you.

"I'm just saying, your administrative policies seem overly strict," Wonwoo remarked, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Strict?" You turned to face him, your expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Wonwoo, I’m trying to maintain academic integrity, not run a summer camp."

"And I'm saying that micromanaging professors' attendance reports isn't maintaining integrity. It’s just paperwork chaos," he shot back, his tone teasing but his words pointed.

"That's because some professors treat their classes like optional gatherings. I’m ensuring consistency," you defended, crossing your arms.

"Or you’re turning the faculty into a military academy," he quipped.

You stopped walking, your gaze challenging. "You sound like you're worried you’ll be the first to break the rules."

Wonwoo chuckled, stepping closer. "I'm the model professor. It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s the others who’ll run for the hills the moment they hear about your new policies."

A faint smile tugged at your lips, but you tried to keep your tone stern. "Well, if they do, at least we’ll know who’s not serious about their roles."

"You really do enjoy being the strict dean, don’t you?" Wonwoo leaned slightly, his teasing gaze unwavering.

"I prefer 'responsible,'" you corrected, turning back to continue walking.

"Of course, Madam Dean," Wonwoo replied with a playful salute, easily matching your pace.

"Don't you 'Madam Dean' me," you muttered, but you couldn’t hide the smile forming.

"Won't I be hearing that a lot when you take over the dean’s office officially?" Wonwoo teased, his voice light but proud.

"Yes, you will. And you better address me properly in meetings," you retorted, feigning seriousness.

"Fine. But don’t think I won’t bring up your paperwork obsession in the next faculty gathering," he warned, earning a light glare from you.

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," he challenged, the mischievous glint in his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

"Maybe I will."

"Good. I love a challenge."

And as your bickering continued, anyone passing by could see it—two professors locked in a playful, spirited exchange, each word carrying a mix of familiarity, trust, and something far deeper.

The end.

637 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 3 months ago

Text

chase the cut - jeon wonwoo imagine

hello~ i've been wanting to write a med au for so long, i tried my best here so i hope you like it!🤍

alsooo i opened an acc on x. you can follow me there, my un there niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You bolt out of the room like your life depends on it.

Behind you, heavy footsteps follow, growing louder with each second. "Come back here!" Wonwoo’s usually calm voice has a sharp edge, but you don’t dare slow down

"It’s just a scratch!" you yell over your shoulder

"A scratch?!" Wonwoo sounds offended. "You’re a surgeon, and you’re bleeding! Do you hear yourself?"

Mingyu and Seokmin barely react as you sprint past them. Mingyu, sipping his coffee, raises a brow. "What did she do now?"

"She got a cut," Wonwoo answers, still in pursuit

Seokmin blinks. "A cut? We’re literally surrounded by scalpels and needles every day—why is he freaking out?"

You duck behind a chair, panting. "Because he’s a pediatric surgeon," you whisper dramatically. "He deals with tiny humans, not full-grown surgeons with minor injuries!"

Wonwoo rounds the corner, eyes locked on you. "You. Sit. Down."

Mingyu, ever the agent of chaos, casually blocks your escape route. "Just let him patch you up. Or keep running—I’m entertained either way."

Seokmin grins. "I say we take bets. Five bucks says he tackles her."

You glare at them. "Some friends you are."

Wonwoo takes a step forward, and you take a step back. It’s a ridiculous standoff in the middle of the hospital lounge.

"Do not make me chase you around the hospital," he warns.

You make a break for it. Seokmin and Mingyu laugh as Wonwoo groans and sprints after you. He catches you in less than five seconds. He’s faster than he looks, and before you can dodge, an arm wraps around your waist, effectively trapping you.

"Gotcha," he mutters, his breath warm against your ear

You squirm uselessly. "This is unfair! You have long legs!"

"You have terrible decision-making skills," he counters, steering you toward the nearest chair with ease. Seokmin and Mingyu watch like it’s their favorite reality show, Mingyu even grabbing a snack.

Wonwoo lets go just long enough to grab the antiseptic wipes, and that’s when the real panic sets in.

"Wait, wait, wait—just let me mentally prepare—"

"You had plenty of time to do that while you were running," he deadpans

The moment the antiseptic-soaked wipe touches your skin, you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted. "Ow, ow, OW—"

Wonwoo sighs. "You literally cut people open for a living, and you’re whining over this?"

Seokmin snickers. "Zero pain tolerance. It’s honestly embarrassing."

Mingyu nods sagely. "Every time she gets a paper cut, she acts like she’s been stabbed."

You glare at them through watery eyes. "This hurts—"

"It stings," Wonwoo corrects, holding your wrist firmly as you try to pull away. "Stay still before you actually make it worse."

You groan dramatically, but Wonwoo, ever patient, finishes patching you up despite your flinching and whining. When he’s done, he presses the bandage down with a little more force than necessary, just to be petty.

"There. All better," he says, finally letting go.

You cradle your injured hand and pout. "You’re mean."

Wonwoo exhales, exasperated. Then, softer, "You should be more careful."

For a second, something unreadable passes between you. Then Seokmin ruins it. "So, who owes me five bucks? I said he’d tackle her, but technically, it was more of a grab—"

"Pay up, Seokmin," Mingyu smirks. "A catch is a catch."

You groan, while Wonwoo just shakes his head, rubbing his temples like he regrets ever being friends with you three.

As soon as Wonwoo walks out, probably to regain some of his sanity before starting his rounds, you finally relax. Big mistake because the moment the door clicks shut behind him, you feel it—the shift in atmosphere. You don’t even have to look up to know that Mingyu and Seokmin are staring at you with that look. The one that spells trouble.

Seokmin grins. "Sooo…"

Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. "Are you two dating, or is Wonwoo just your personal on-call nurse?"

You groan. "Oh my god, not this again."

"Look, I’m just saying," Seokmin continues, leaning back like he has all the time in the world, "Wonwoo doesn’t act like that with anyone else."

"Yeah, I mean, I literally saw him step over a crying intern last week," Mingyu adds. "But the second you get a tiny little cut—"

"A painful cut," you interject

"—he’s running after you like you just lost a limb," Mingyu finishes, ignoring you

You roll your eyes. "He’s just like that."

Seokmin scoffs. "No, he’s not."

Mingyu hums. "Do you ever see him chase me down when I get hurt?"

"You get hurt on purpose for attention," you deadpan.

"Fair," Mingyu concedes. "But still. Wonwoo’s different with you."

You shake your head, standing up. "Whatever. I have patients to see."

As you reach for the door, Seokmin calls out, "Hey, don’t run too fast—wouldn’t want to scrape your knee. Wonwoo might carry you to the ER next time." Mingyu cackles as you slam the door on your way out.

It’s way past midnight—closer to 3 AM, when Wonwoo finally walks into the on-call room. His hair is slightly disheveled, white coat draped over his arm, and dark circles under his eyes deeper than before. It’s been a brutal shift.

Seokmin, who’s sitting at one of the desks, barely acknowledges his entrance, too focused on some patient charts. But Wonwoo doesn’t need to say anything. He just walks over to the bunk beds, takes one look at Mingyu—who’s sprawled out, snoring on the bottom bunk—and wordlessly yanks him off. With a loud thud, Mingyu hits the floor.

"Huh—?!" Mingyu startles awake, flailing like a fish out of water. "What the—?!"

"Get up," Wonwoo says flatly.

Mingyu groans dramatically, rubbing his eyes. "Dude, what is your problem—"

Wonwoo ignores him, already turning toward you. You’re curled up awkwardly on the couch, using a rolled-up hoodie as a pillow, arms folded in a way that guarantees you’ll wake up with at least three different cramps.

Wonwoo sighs. Then, in a tone much softer than the one he used on Mingyu, he murmurs, "Get in the bed."

You don’t stir at first, still half-asleep, but then you mumble, "‘M fine here…"

Wonwoo doesn’t buy it. "You’ll complain about back pain tomorrow, and we both know it."

Seokmin finally looks up, watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement. Mingyu, still half on the floor, blinks at Wonwoo, then at you. Slowly, a knowing smirk creeps onto his face.

"Ohhh," Mingyu hums. "This is why you pulled me off the bed."

Wonwoo doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he reaches down and lightly taps your arm. "Come on, just sleep on the bed."

You grumble but finally crack your eyes open, too exhausted to argue. Wonwoo steps back as you groggily push yourself up, stretching. You shuffle toward the now-empty bottom bunk, collapsing onto it with a sigh.

"See? Much better," Wonwoo murmurs, pulling the blanket over you without a second thought.

Mingyu and Seokmin share a look.

"Dude," Mingyu says once Wonwoo turns around. "You could’ve told me to move instead of dragging me off like a sack of potatoes."

"You wouldn’t have moved fast enough," Wonwoo replies.

Seokmin smirks. "So, she gets the ‘gentle tuck-in’ treatment while Mingyu gets yeeted off the bed? Interesting."

Mingyu nods, still rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, Wonwoo. Interesting."

Wonwoo gives them both an unimpressed look before muttering, "I’m going to sleep," and heading toward the other bunk.

Even with his back turned, he can feel their teasing grins.

You’re pretty sure you’ve ascended to another plane of existence. Or maybe you’ve died and are currently haunting the hospital as a sleep-deprived ghost. Either way, you’ve been awake for way too long over 32 hours, to be exact and your body is done.

Mingyu isn’t faring much better. He’s slumped over the shared office desk, forehead pressed against an open patient chart, lightly snoring. You’re half-sitting, half-melting into the couch, cradling a lukewarm coffee that does nothing to fight the exhaustion clawing at your soul.

And then because life isn’t unfair enough already, Seokmin walks in. Bright-eyed. Energized. Well-rested. The worst kind of person.

"Good morning, besties!" Seokmin chirps, stretching like he didn’t just take a whole day off.

You don’t even look at him. "I will kill you."

"I second that," Mingyu mumbles into his chart.

Seokmin gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Why the hostility? I thought you’d be happy to see me!"

"We hate you," Mingyu groans.

"You’re dead to us," you add.

Seokmin grins. "Wow, so much love in this room." He walks over and purposefully ruffles Mingyu’s hair, making him whine in protest. Then he turns to you, poking your cheek. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," you mumble. "Exactly what I needed to hear."

Seokmin flops onto one of the chairs, grinning. "You know what I did yesterday? Slept a full eight hours. Went out for brunch. Touched grass."

Mingyu lifts his head just to glare. "Leave. Now."

Before Seokmin can keep being insufferable, the door opens again. Wonwoo walks in.

And unlike Seokmin who is obnoxiously loud about being well-rested Wonwoo looks just as exhausted as you and Mingyu. His coat is slightly wrinkled, his tie is loosened, and there’s an untouched coffee in his hand that he’s clearly forgotten about. He glances at Seokmin who looks too refreshed to be tolerable then at Mingyu, who is back to pretending to be dead.

Then his gaze lands on you.

You blink at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. "Hey."

"Hey," Wonwoo murmurs. He steps closer, eyes scanning over you in that way he always does when he’s subtly checking if you’re okay.

"Did you sleep?" he asks.

You let out a weak, humorless laugh. "Did you?"

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Instead, he sets his coffee down and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

Seokmin—who has been watching the whole thing like a spectator at a soap opera—leans back with a smirk. "Wow, this is so interesting."

Mingyu groans, flopping back onto the desk. "Not now, Seokmin. I’m too tired for this."

Wonwoo ignores them both. He looks at you again, eyes softer now. "Eat something and get some rest."

"You too," you mumble, already sinking further into the couch.

Wonwoo exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

Seokmin wiggles his eyebrows. "Ohhh, this is fun."

"You know what else is fun?" You finally turn your head to glare at Seokmin. "Murder."

Wonwoo just sighs again and walks over to the bunk beds, mumbling something about how all of you are hopeless. Mingyu groans like he’s been personally attacked when his pager starts beeping. He doesn’t even look at it just slams his forehead against the desk.

"No. No, no, no. I reject this," he mumbles against the wood.

You barely have the energy to process the noise until of course yours goes off too. You and Mingyu make eye contact, equally dead inside.

Seokmin, the only one without a pager going off, grins. "Wow. Couldn’t be me."

"I will end you," you mutter, already reaching for your coat.

Wonwoo watches silently as Mingyu sluggishly gets up, flipping his pager over to check the message. He sighs. "ER’s a mess. Multiple traumas incoming."

You check yours, blinking slowly as the words process in your sleep-deprived brain. "OR needs backup. Guess I’m heading there."

Mingyu looks at you, eyes drooping. "Want to switch? I don’t want to talk to families."

"Absolutely not."

Mingyu pouts but doesn’t argue. He drags himself to his feet, rubbing his face aggressively like that’ll give him the will to live.

Seokmin claps his hands together, looking way too cheerful. "Well, have fun, kids! I’ll be here. Rested. Thriving."

Mingyu flips him off on the way out.

You barely register Wonwoo standing beside you until he tugs at your sleeve. When you look up, he’s frowning slightly.

"You sure you’re okay?" he asks, voice quieter now.

You exhale. "No, but I don’t have a choice."

Wonwoo’s frown deepens like he wants to say something else, but before he can, a voice crackles over the intercom calling for additional surgeons.

You sigh, giving him a tired half-smile. "See you later."

Wonwoo watches as you head out, his jaw tightening.

Seokmin hums as the door closes behind you. "You know," he says, stretching out on the chair, "for someone who refuses to admit his feelings, you really don’t do a good job of hiding them."

Wonwoo shoots him a glare, but Seokmin just grins.

A few more hours later, Wonwoo rubs at his eyes as he shrugs on his coat, his shift finally over. He grabs his bag from the office, shoulders aching from exhaustion. Just as he’s about to leave, the door swings open, and Mingyu stumbles in, looking like he’s barely holding himself together.

"ER was hell," Mingyu groans, dropping onto the couch with a loud thud. "I think I aged five years."

"You already look thirty," Wonwoo says, deadpan.

Mingyu glares at him, too tired to argue. Instead, he waves a lazy hand.

Then Wonwoo asks "Where’s she? OR still has her hostage?"

The other doctor nods "She hasn’t come back yet. She’s probably running on caffeine and spite at this point."

Wonwoo hesitates for a second before speaking. "Make sure she eats and gets some rest when she’s done."

Mingyu cracks one eye open, a slow smirk creeping onto his face. "You like her."

Wonwoo stares at him blankly. "Make sure she eats, Mingyu."

"You like her," Mingyu repeats, grinning now. Wonwoo doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Mingyu calls after him.

"Home," Wonwoo mutters.

"Liar!" Mingyu shouts, but Wonwoo is already gone.

What feels like hours to Mingyu before you entered the room. You trudge into the on-call room, every bone in your body protesting. Your scrub top is slightly wrinkled, your hair is a mess, and you’re running on nothing but sheer willpower at this point.

Mingyu is already knocked out on the bottom bunk, snoring lightly. You barely spare him a glance before collapsing onto the couch.

That’s when you notice it.

On the small coffee table, there’s a neatly packed meal. Your favorite.

You blink, staring at it like it’s a mirage. There’s even a bottle of water next to it, condensation still fresh, like someone just left it there.

Curious, you reach out and poke at the food, half-expecting it to disappear. When it doesn’t, you frown.

"Who…?" you murmur to yourself.

Mingyu shifts on the bed, groaning. "Shut up and eat."

You glance at him. "Did you get this?"

He grunts, eyes still closed. "Nope."

You pause. "Then who—?"

Mingyu cracks one eye open, smirking lazily. "Who do you think?"

That stops you. Your brain, sluggish from exhaustion, takes a moment to process.

Then it clicks.

Wonwoo.

You stare at the food, heart doing something weird in your chest.

Mingyu snickers before rolling over. "Just eat, dumbass."

You don’t argue. But as you take the first bite, you can’t help but think about a certain pediatric surgeon who definitely isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is.

You exhale, shaking your head to yourself. Subtle, Jeon.

Mingyu shifts on the bed again, cracking one eye open. "You’re thinking too hard about this," he mutters, voice thick with sleep.

You stab at your food with your chopsticks. "No, I’m not."

"Yeah, you are."

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. "Go back to sleep."

Mingyu hums lazily, but then he adds, "He does this all the time, you know."

You pause mid-bite. "What?"

Mingyu smirks, barely awake but still committed to being a menace. "Making sure you eat. Checking if you’re okay. Wonwoo’s always been like that… but only with you."

Your stomach does something stupid at that. "That’s not true."

Mingyu chuckles, shifting onto his side. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

You open your mouth to argue, but Mingyu’s already passed out again, snoring softly. You sigh, leaning back on the couch. The food is warm, comforting, and frustratingly thoughtful.

You try not to think about it too much. You fail.

It’s another long shift for you.

After parting ways with Seokmin, you make your way to the nurses’ station, hoping to check on some charts before heading back to the on-call room. You’re running on fumes at this point, but the habit of making sure everything is in order before you crash is too strong to ignore.

As you approach, you hear a group of nurses talking in hushed but excited tones. You don’t think much of it until you catch a familiar name.

“Dr. Jeon is so amazing,” one of them gushes, practically sighing. “Did you see him with that little boy’s parents? He was so gentle and reassuring.”

“I know! And he’s always so calm, no matter how bad things get.”

“Not to mention how good he looks in scrubs,” another nurse adds, and they all giggle.

You freeze mid-step, blinking.

Are they seriously—?

“I swear, if he wasn’t so intimidating, I’d totally ask him out.”

“Right? But he’s always so serious. Like, have you ever seen him smile?”

“Only sometimes. But guess what?” The first nurse leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I did see him smile today.”

“No way. When?”

“When he was talking to Dr. Y/N.”

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

“Oh my god, wait, you’re right! He actually looked... softer?”

“And she’s the only one he ever seems to talk to outside of work stuff.”

Another nurse sighs dramatically. “That’s so unfair. Do you think they’re, like, a thing?”

Your brain short-circuits. You have got to get out of here. Clearing your throat loudly, you step into their line of sight, making them jump. “Hey, uh… I just need to check some charts.”

The group scrambles, trying to look busy, but you can feel their eyes on you, filled with curiosity and knowing looks. Great. Just great.

As you grab the nearest patient file, you swear you hear one of them whisper, “Oh my god, she totally heard us.”

You pretend you didn’t.

You nearly drop the patient file when a rolling chair suddenly appears beside you.

“So,” Seokmin drawls, arms crossed as he lazily spins in the chair, “how do I break it to them that Wonwoo is a total softie for you?”

You glare at him, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “Can you not sneak up on me like that?”

Seokmin grins, completely ignoring your complaint. “Seriously, though. They think he’s this untouchable, brooding genius, but we both know he turns into a golden retriever when it comes to you.”

Your eye twitches. “He does not—”

Seokmin cuts you off with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god, you’re in denial.”

You slap his arm with the patient file. “I am not.”

He just laughs, rubbing his arm. “Y/N, I literally watched him rip Mingyu off the bottom bunk just so you could sleep comfortably.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Okay, fine. That was suspiciously caring behavior.

Seokmin smirks, clearly enjoying your inner struggle. “And let’s not forget how he tells Mingyu to make sure you eat and sleep. Or how he leaves food for you. Or how he only ever gets flustered when it involves you.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “I hate you.”

He pats your back like a supportive older brother. “No, you hate that I’m right.”

Before you can argue, one of the nurses clears her throat loudly, and you glance up to see them all very obviously pretending not to listen.

Seokmin leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “They’re totally listening.”

“I know, Seokmin.”

“Wanna give them a show? Maybe dramatically sigh Wonwoo’s name?”

You grab the patient file again and smack him with it. That’s when another doctor—Dr. Lee from orthopedics—walks up beside you.

"Dr. Y/N," he greets smoothly, offering a smile. "Haven’t seen you around much. Busy saving lives?"

You glance up, slightly caught off guard by the sudden conversation. "Uh, yeah. Something like that."

Dr. Lee leans casually against the counter, watching you with interest. "You should take a break sometime. Maybe grab a coffee?"

Oh. Oh.

Is he… flirting?

You don’t get the chance to react before you hear a loud, exaggerated cough from nearby. Seokmin is sitting just a few feet away, blatantly eavesdropping with zero shame. He’s pretending to look at a chart, but his expression is screaming Oh? What’s this?

You try to ignore him, forcing a polite smile at Dr. Lee. "That’s nice of you, but I’m actually running on negative sleep right now."

Dr. Lee chuckles. "All the more reason to step away for a bit. It’s just coffee, no pressure."

Seokmin lets out another obnoxious cough. "Thirsty, huh?"

You whip your head toward him, glaring. "Do you need medical attention, Seokmin?"

He grins. "Nah, I’m just—" he gestures vaguely between you and Dr. Lee "—observing."

Dr. Lee, bless him, is oblivious to the absolute menace that is Seokmin. "No worries. If you change your mind, let me know," he says with an easy smile before walking off.

The moment he’s gone, Seokmin wheels his chair over at full speed, stopping right beside you.

"So," he drawls. "Are you gonna tell Wonwoo, or should I?"

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. "Seokmin, I swear to god—"

Of course it didn’t take long. Mingyu and Wonwoo are lounging in the on-call room when the door slams open. Seokmin bursts in, cackling like a maniac, running full speed across the room.

And right behind him. You.

"LEE SEOKMIN, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Before he can reach the safety of the bunk beds, you launch yourself at him, nearly tackling him to the ground. Seokmin barely stays on his feet, wheezing through his laughter.

Mingyu, sitting up from the bottom bunk, blinks in confusion. "…Do we want to know?"

Wonwoo, sitting at the small desk, doesn’t even look up. "No."

Seokmin, still trying to escape your grip, gasps between laughs. "I—I was just helping!"

"You were eavesdropping and causing problems on purpose!" you yell, tightening your hold around his waist as he tries to wriggle free.

Mingyu perks up at that. "Ooh, what happened? Spill."

Seokmin dramatically falls onto the couch, bringing you down with him. "Our dear Y/N here was getting flirted with."

Mingyu’s eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

Seokmin grins, panting slightly. "Dr. Lee. Ortho. Real smooth. Asked her to coffee."

Mingyu gasps like this is the most dramatic thing he’s ever heard. "And you tackled him over this?!"

"No, I tackled him because he ran in here to tell you two like a gossiping old lady!" you snap, still half on top of Seokmin, who is not helping by laughing even harder.

Mingyu turns to Wonwoo, who has yet to react. "Wonwoo. Thoughts?"

Wonwoo, still not looking up, simply flips a page in his book. Seokmin wheezes. You groan, letting your head drop onto the couch.

Mingyu clutches his chest, looking between you and Wonwoo with pure delight. "Oh, this is better than a telenovela."

You push yourself up from where you were half-crushing Seokmin, brushing off your scrubs as you glare at him. Before you can properly scold him for being the absolute worst, Wonwoo finally speaks—completely nonchalant, like this whole thing isn’t ridiculous.

"He asked if you wanted coffee?"

You pause. Seokmin and Mingyu do not. Seokmin looks thrilled. Mingyu straight-up leans forward, eyes sparkling with interest.

You narrow your eyes at Wonwoo. "Why do you sound like that?"

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his book. "Like what?"

Mingyu grins. "Yeah, like what, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo flips a page. "Just asking."

You scoff. "You buy me coffee all the time"

Wonwoo hums. "Exactly."

Your brain short-circuits. "…Wait. What does that mean?*"

Wonwoo, still infuriatingly casual, finally glances up. "Nothing. Just seems unnecessary to get coffee with someone else when you already get it from me."

Seokmin and Mingyu explode.

"OH, THAT'S RICH—"

"DID HE JUST—"

You groan into your hands as they lose their minds. Wonwoo, unbothered, closes his book and stands. "I’m going to get coffee. You want one or not?"

Mingyu is on the floor laughing. Seokmin is gasping for air. And you—you are never going to hear the end of this.

Wonwoo, as unbothered as ever, grabs his ID badge and heads for the door.

Mingyu and Seokmin are still wheezing from his last comment, but you’re too busy processing to move.

He’s almost out when he pauses, tilting his head slightly. "Not coming?"

You cross your arms, still suspicious. "I think I’ll stay here and recover from whatever that was."

Wonwoo shrugs. "Suit yourself."

He steps out. You don’t follow but right before the door swings shut, you shout after him

"Caramel macchiato, extra shot, not too sweet!"

Seokmin and Mingyu stare at you. You stare back.

Then Mingyu loses it, laughing so hard he nearly falls off the bunk. "OH, SO YOU’RE NOT GONNA FOLLOW HIM, BUT YOU’RE STILL MAKING HIM GET YOU COFFEE?"

Seokmin clutches his chest, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Unbelievable. Absolutely shameless."

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "I hate you both."

Mingyu wipes fake tears. "No, you hate that you’re in too deep and we’re just here to witness it."

It’s your well-deserved day off, which means the hospital is not your problem for once. But unfortunately for Wonwoo, it means he is the problem of the two very nosy individuals stuck with him today.

Mingyu and Seokmin have been relentless since morning, waiting for the perfect opportunity to grill him—and the second they’re all in the on-call room, Seokmin strikes.

"So... you and Y/N."

Wonwoo doesn’t even look up from his tablet. "What about her?"

Mingyu flops onto the couch dramatically. "You know exactly what about her."

Seokmin leans forward, grinning. "You act different around her."

"I don’t."

"Oh, you absolutely do," Mingyu says, propping his chin on his hand. "You let her get away with things you’d never tolerate from us."

Seokmin nods enthusiastically. "Like running away when she has a cut?"

"Or demanding coffee like she’s a queen and you’re her personal barista?" Mingyu adds.

Wonwoo finally glances up. "She doesn’t demand. I offer."

Silence.

Mingyu and Seokmin gasp.

"HE ADMITS IT!" Seokmin nearly topples over. "HE VOLUNTARILY GETS HER COFFEE!"

Wonwoo sighs. "You two have too much free time."

"And you have too much denial," Mingyu shoots back. "Be honest, if she asked for your left kidney, you’d at least consider it."

Seokmin laughs. "He’d have it prepped and ready before she even finished asking."

Wonwoo rubs his temples. "You’re both insufferable."

"And you’re in love," Mingyu sing-songs.

"I am not," Wonwoo deadpans.

Seokmin smirks. "Would you say no if she asked you out?"

Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately, making the two guys exchange another look.

"Oh my God," Mingyu whispers. "You wouldn’t say no."

"Pack it up, folks, we got him," Seokmin grins. "That’s a wrap."

Meanwhile it’s your day off, technically you were supposed to be having a relaxing day off. No pagers, no surgeries, no Mingyu whining for coffee or Seokmin launching into dramatic gossip. Just a simple grocery run—bread, eggs, maybe even some overpriced snacks if you were feeling indulgent.

But fate, as usual, had other plans.

The sound of screeching tires and the crash of metal on metal jolts you from your thoughts as you step out of the store. A small crowd is already forming near an intersection, the sight of two badly dented cars making your stomach drop.

Then you hear it—panicked voices.

"She’s pregnant!"

Your body moves before your brain fully catches up. Pushing past stunned bystanders, you rush toward the most damaged car, where a man is frantically trying to pry open the passenger door. Inside, a woman—clearly pregnant—clutches her stomach, her face contorted in pain.

"Ma’am, can you hear me?" you ask, voice sharp with urgency.

She gasps, nodding weakly. "M-My baby—"

You glance around. The fire department isn’t here yet, neither are the paramedics. The door is crushed in, and she’s stuck.

Your pulse pounds, but you push the panic aside. Focus.

You turn to the man still struggling with the door. "We need to get her out, but carefully. Do you have something I can use to break the glass?"

He nods shakily, rushing to his car. Meanwhile, you crouch by the woman, speaking in a soothing tone even as your mind races through possible complications.

"You're doing great. Just keep breathing, okay? Help is coming."

She nods again, but her grip on her belly tightens.

You don’t have your scrubs, your hospital badge, or even your gloves. But right now, none of that matters because doctor or not—you have to help her.

You refuse to leave her side. Even as sirens wail in the distance and bystanders are urged to step back, you stay crouched next to the woman, monitoring her breathing, checking for signs of distress.

"You're okay. Just hold on," you murmur, your hand steady on her wrist, feeling the rapid pulse beneath your fingers. The first responders finally arrive, moving quickly to assess the scene.

A firefighter rushes toward you. "Ma’am, we need to extract her now. You should move back."

"Not until she’s safe," you insist.

They're working on prying the door open when it happens—

An explosion.

A sudden BOOM rocks the area as flames burst from the wreckage. The force knocks you backward, and before you can react, shards of glass and debris fly straight toward you and the pregnant woman.

Your first instinct is to shield her. You duck, arms raised, making sure not a single piece touches her. She screams, but the paramedics quickly cover her with a thick emergency blanket.

You barely notice the sharp stings as glass embeds itself into your arm, your shoulder, a few grazing your cheek. The pain is secondary.

"She’s stable!" one of the EMTs shouts, carefully moving the woman onto a stretcher. "Let’s transport her now!" You exhale in relief, watching as they wheel her toward the ambulance. You step back, feeling a slight dizziness, but shake it off.

"Doctor?" One of the firefighters eyes you carefully.

"I’m fine," you say automatically.

The ambulance ride is a blur of flashing lights and hushed urgency. The paramedics work efficiently, monitoring the pregnant woman’s vitals as you sit beside her, keeping her calm. You press a gauze pad against one of the deeper cuts on your arm, but otherwise, you don’t acknowledge your injuries.

When the ambulance finally arrives at the hospital, the woman is rushed into the ER. You climb out right after them, rolling your stiff shoulders, determined to go check on her—

Only to run straight into Mingyu.

"Hey, we got a—" His usual laid-back tone vanishes the moment his eyes land on you. His brows shoot up. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I’m fine," you say immediately, waving him off. Big mistake.

The moment you move, dizziness washes over you. You stumble slightly, catching yourself against the wall.

Mingyu lunges forward. "Yeah, okay, fine people totally do that."

His eyes sweep over you. Your torn sleeve, the cuts littering your arm, the faint streak of blood on your cheek. "Are you serious right now?"

You sigh. "It’s not that bad—"

"Not that bad?" He gestures wildly at you. "You were supposed to be on your day off, not playing action hero in the middle of the street!"

Mingyu groans, already reaching for his pager. "Seokmin and Wonwoo are going to kill me."

Mingyu barely has time to react before your knees buckle.

"Oh, for—okay, nope, you’re done," he mutters, catching you before you hit the ground. His hands grip your shoulders, guiding you onto a nearby gurney despite your weak protests.

"I—I'm fine," you mumble, though the dizziness makes your head swim. The pain you’ve been stubbornly ignoring is very much making itself known now, sharp and stinging from every cut.

"Uh-huh, tell that to your blood loss," Mingyu huffs as he quickly assesses the wounds. "How are you this dumb?"

You try to glare at him, but it’s half-hearted at best. He just sighs, guiding you to the nearest vacant bed then grabbing antiseptics and bandages from a nearby tray.

"This is gonna sting," he warns, dabbing at the gash on your arm.

The burn makes you flinch. "Mingyu—"

But before you can complain, the door to the ER slams open.

"Where is she?"

Your stomach drops.

Wonwoo stands at the entrance, still in his scrubs, his chest rising and falling like he ran all the way here. His usual composed demeanor is nowhere to be seen.

The moment his eyes land on you—bruised, bloodied, and definitely not fine—his expression shifts into something dark.

"You have got to be kidding me," he mutters, storming over

Mingyu looks up but barely gets a word in before Wonwoo cuts in, voice tight. "What the hell happened?"

You open your mouth, but Mingyu beats you to it. "She was out running errands and decided to become a damn superhero. Got caught in a car explosion or something—"

"It wasn’t an explosion—" you try, but Wonwoo turns his glare on you so fast you shut up.

"You refused to tell anyone you were hurt?" Wonwoo’s voice is low, laced with barely contained frustration. "Do you even know how reckless that is?"

You blink at him, a little caught off guard. Wonwoo gets annoyed, sure—but this? This anger? This fear simmering under his words?

Mingyu shifts awkwardly. "Uh, so, I’ll just—keep cleaning these wounds?"

Wonwoo ignores him.

"You should’ve been treated immediately," he snaps. "You could’ve gone into shock, Y/N. You could’ve—" He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

You swallow, voice quieter now. "I had to make sure she was okay."

Wonwoo stares at you for a long moment. His jaw clenches. Then, without another word, he grabs the antiseptic from Mingyu’s hand and kneels down beside you.

"Hey, I was—" Mingyu starts

"You’re taking too long," Wonwoo says flatly, inspecting your arm.

Mingyu throws his hands up. "Oh, I’m the problem? Sure, yeah, okay."

But you don’t pay attention to Mingyu anymore—because Wonwoo is suddenly so close, his fingers gentle as he carefully tends to your wounds. The frustration is still in his eyes, but his touch is steady, precise.

You wince when he presses the gauze against a deeper cut, and his grip instinctively tightens around your wrist. His voice softens, just a fraction.

"I don’t care how capable you are," he mutters. "Don’t ever do that again."

You bite down hard on your lip, willing yourself not to cry. But the antiseptic burns, and the way Wonwoo presses down on your wounds with such precision makes it impossible to ignore the sharp sting.

Your eyes start to prickle. You will not cry. You refuse.

Mingyu, ever the observant one, notices immediately. He leans in slightly and mumbles, “Hey, man, she’s already injured. You’re making her cry.”

Wonwoo freezes.

Your head snaps up. “I am not crying.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “You sure? You kinda look like you’re about to.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Wonwoo sighs, rubbing his temple. “Mingyu, stop talking.”

Mingyu just shrugs, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just saying, maybe be a little gentler? You know, since you care so much.”

Wonwoo pointedly ignores him, but his grip on your arm loosens just slightly, his movements becoming even more careful. He still looks pissed, but his touch is softer now, like he’s trying to make up for it.

You try to focus on anything other than the fact that your face feels ridiculously warm.

Mingyu stands, stretching with an exaggerated groan. “Alright, I’m gonna check on the woman since someone needs to be useful around here.”

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. “I’m useful.”

“Yeah, yeah, tell that to your blood loss.” He waves you off, throwing Wonwoo a quick glance before walking out, leaving the two of you alone.

The silence that follows is heavy. Wonwoo is still focused on cleaning your wounds, but his jaw is tight, and his movements though gentler now are still a little too precise.

You watch him for a second before speaking. “You’re really mad, huh?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “No.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

His grip tightens just slightly before he lets out a quiet, frustrated sigh. “…Yes.”

You shift a little, suddenly feeling weird under his gaze. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Wonwoo finally looks up at you, and the way his eyes darken makes you shut up real quick.

“Not that bad?” he repeats, voice low. “You were in an accident, Y/N. You got caught in a literal explosion.”

You try to brush it off. “It wasn’t that big—”

"You were bleeding and didn't even think to get yourself treated first."

You falter. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, like he’s trying really hard to rein himself in.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen people come in, thinking they were fine, only to collapse later?” His voice is quieter now, but it’s laced with something heavier. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

Wonwoo’s gaze softens—just barely—before he looks back down, carefully placing the last bandage over your arm. His hands linger for a second, his fingers warm against your skin.

“…Just don’t do that again.” His voice is quieter now, almost pleading. “Please.”

You sniffle, trying to hold it in, but a few tears betray you, slipping down your cheek before you can stop them. Wonwoo notices immediately. His hands, still hovering near your arm, tense.

“Hey—”

You quickly wipe at your face, sniffling again. “I’m fine.” Your voice wobbles, completely betraying you.

Wonwoo exhales through his nose, and before you can react, he’s reaching for the tissue box nearby, wordlessly handing you one.

You take it, mumbling, “Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, in a small voice, you ask, “Is the woman okay?”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches you carefully before finally saying, “She’s stable. Mingyu’s checking on her now.”

You nod, squeezing the tissue in your hand. “That’s good.”

Wonwoo still doesn’t look away. His lips press together like he wants to say something else, but in the end, all he does is let out a quiet sigh.

“You should rest,” he says softly. “You lost some of blood, you might feel light headed”

You huff, forcing a weak smile. “You sound like me when I tell my patients that.”

He doesn’t smile back. Instead, he reaches out, hesitates, then gently presses his hand against your head, smoothing down a stray strand of hair. The touch is so light, so careful, that it nearly makes you tear up all over again.

“Then take your own advice for once.”

Before you can even process the warmth of Wonwoo’s touch, the door bursts open.

“OH MY GOD—YOU’RE ALIVE!”

Seokmin practically lunges toward you, arms wide like he’s about to hug-tackle you, but Wonwoo smoothly steps in his way, stopping him with a single hand to his chest.

“Seokmin.” Wonwoo’s voice is flat. “She’s injured.”

Seokmin blinks, then gasps like he’s just realized something. “YOU’RE INJURED?!”

You stare at him, deadpan. “Did you think I was just here for fun?”

Seokmin dramatically grips his chest. “I—I just thought maybe you were being dramatic again! But you actually got hurt?!”

Wonwoo sighs, stepping aside because, at this point, there’s no stopping Seokmin. Sure enough, he leans down, carefully inspecting your bandages like a concerned mother.

“How bad is it? Are you dizzy? Do you need water? Do you need me to spoon-feed you soup?”

You groan, pushing his face away. “I’m fine.”

Seokmin ignores you and turns to Wonwoo. “Doctor, will she survive?”

Wonwoo looks unimpressed. “She lost blood but nothing major. She just needs to rest.”

Seokmin gasps again, gripping your hand. “BE STRONG, MY FRIEND.”

You shove him. “You’re the worst.”

Seokmin sniffs dramatically, wiping an imaginary tear. “If you do die, can I have your favorite pen?”

Wonwoo pinches the bridge of his nose while you grab a pillow and throw it at Seokmin’s face.

After everything that happened, of course Wonwoo refused to let you out of his sight or atleast have someone watching over you while the three guys finish their shift.

After work, the four of you go to a barbeque place you're a regular at.

You’re all starving by the time you reach the restaurant, exhaustion from the day momentarily forgotten at the sight of sizzling meat and bubbling stews.

Mingyu and Seokmin are loud, bickering over who gets to grill first, while you just lean back in your seat, still pretending to sulk.

Wonwoo, sitting beside you, wordlessly places some meat on your plate before you can even lift your chopsticks. Then, as if it’s second nature, he reaches over and rolls up the loose sleeve of your hoodie, neatly tucking it to make sure it doesn’t dip into the sauces.

Mingyu pauses mid-bite, eyes flicking between the two of you.

Seokmin, in the middle of arguing over dipping sauces, suddenly stops and squints.

The most shocking part?

You don’t even react. You just pick up your chopsticks, casually eating the food Wonwoo put on your plate like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Mingyu slowly puts his chopsticks down. “Okay, hold on.”

Seokmin leans in. “Have you always been like this?”

You blink. “Like what?”

Mingyu gestures vaguely at you and Wonwoo. “That.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, sipping his water. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Seokmin waves his chopsticks between you two. “You’re basically a married couple and she doesn’t even blink when you baby her.”

You scoff, but before you can argue, Wonwoo speaks first. “She’d spill sauce on herself if I didn’t.”

Mingyu stares. “So you admit you’re babying her.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “She doesn’t complain.”

You shove a piece of meat in your mouth to avoid answering, but your reddening ears don’t go unnoticed. Seokmin and Mingyu exchange knowing looks before grinning at each other.

Oh, they’re never letting this go.

The two of you are crammed into the back of a small van, bumping along a dirt road on the way to the rural clinic. It’s too early, you’re running on barely any sleep, and Mingyu has already decided now is the perfect time to interrogate you.

“So.” He leans back against his seat, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. “You and Wonwoo.”

You groan immediately. “Absolutely not. We’re not doing this.”

Mingyu grins. “Oh, we’re definitely doing this. We have, like, four more hours to go.”

You glare at him, but he just continues. “I mean, come on. He feeds you. He rolls up your sleeves. He practically tracks your movements in the hospital without even trying. And you don’t even react anymore.”

“Maybe I’m just used to it.” You shrug.

Mingyu narrows his eyes. “That’s what I’m saying! You’re used to it. As in, it’s been happening for so long that you don’t even notice.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just how we are.”

Mingyu scoffs. “Please. If Seokmin tried to do that for you, you’d stab him with your chopsticks.”

You snort. “Yeah, well, Seokmin deserves it.”

Mingyu ignores that. “Just admit it. You like him.”

You pause. Then, after a beat, you say, “Of course I like him. He’s my friend.”

Mingyu groans dramatically, flopping onto your shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

You shove him off. “And you’re annoying.”

He smirks. “I know. But I’m also right.”

You refuse to answer, choosing instead to look out the window. But you can’t shake the way your stomach flips at Mingyu’s words.

Mingyu stretches out his legs, looking way too comfortable for someone who’s supposed to be working. “Alright then, since you’re so sure it’s nothing—explain this to me.”

You sigh. “What now?”

He smirks. “Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone since med school?”

You blink. “What?”

Mingyu tilts his head, looking far too smug. “I mean, Seokmin and I have dated around. You’ve had, like, two almost-relationships. But Wonwoo? Not a single girlfriend. No dates. No flings. No nothing.” He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that weird?”

You scoff. “Maybe he’s just not interested.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Nah. I asked him once, and you know what he said?”

You hesitate. “…What?”

Mingyu grins. “‘I don’t have time for that.’” He leans in, lowering his voice dramatically. “But I think the real reason is that he’s been too busy looking after you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

Because now that you think about it… Mingyu’s kind of right.

Wonwoo has never once shown interest in dating. Even during med school, when everyone else was either in relationships or at least going on dates, he never did. He was always around, always steady, always—

You shake your head. No. No way.

Mingyu watches you, eyes glinting. “Oh my god, you’re actually thinking about it.”

You shove him. “Shut up.”

He cackles. “I love being right.”

You groan, turning to the window to ignore him. But your heart is beating just a little too fast, and your mind keeps replaying Mingyu’s words.

Why hasn’t Wonwoo dated anyone?

And more importantly, why does the answer make your chest feel tight?

Once you’re done with the medical mission, you go back to the hospital. You push open the door to the on-call room, utterly drained from the long day. Mingyu had peeled off somewhere to check on the ER, but you went straight here, hoping to collapse onto the couch for at least a few minutes.

The room is dimly lit, quiet except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. At first, you think it's empty—until your eyes land on Wonwoo. He’s at his desk, head slightly tilted down, eyes closed.

You pause, debating whether you should leave him be. But before you can take a step back, his voice—low and a little rough from exhaustion—breaks the silence.

"You're back."

You blink. "I thought you were asleep."

He opens his eyes, looking at you with that unreadable expression of his. "Just resting my eyes."

You scoff lightly, stepping further inside. "You say that like it’s any better."

Wonwoo watches you as you drop your bag onto the desk, stretching your arms over your head with a tired groan. You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers, just for a second, before he leans back in his chair.

"Long day?" he asks.

You sigh, rolling out your shoulders. "Very. Mingyu was extra annoying, as usual."

Wonwoo hums, amused. "What did he do now?"

You hesitate, suddenly remembering the entire conversation about him. About how Mingyu basically implied that Wonwoo hasn’t dated anyone because of you.

You glance at Wonwoo, who’s waiting for your answer with a neutral expression. And for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to bring it up.

“Just the usual nonsense,” you say instead.

Wonwoo doesn’t press, just nods before looking back at his desk. There’s a brief silence—comfortable, familiar. The kind you only get with someone you’ve known for years.

Then, softly, he says, “You should eat before you sleep.”

You glance at him, arching a brow. "Did you just give me my own advice?"

A small smirk tugs at his lips. "You never follow it yourself."

You shake your head, but there’s something warm in your chest that wasn’t there before.

Damn Mingyu. Now you can’t stop noticing things.

You drop onto the couch, exhausted but still watching Wonwoo out of the corner of your eye. He hasn't moved from his desk, but now you notice the way he's rubbing his temples, his brows slightly furrowed.

His glasses aren’t on, which is rare. Wonwoo without glasses usually means one of two things—either he’s about to sleep, or he has a headache.

Judging by the way he keeps pinching the bridge of his nose, it’s definitely the latter.

"You okay?" you ask.

"Mhm." He doesn’t look up, still rubbing slow circles into his temples.

You frown. "Did you even rest today?"

"I did," he says, but you don’t believe him for a second.

With a sigh, you push yourself up and walk over to him. He barely reacts when you place a hand on his shoulder, but he finally opens his eyes when you gently pull his hand away from his forehead.

"You have a migraine, don’t you?" you ask, squinting at him.

Wonwoo blinks at you, then exhales through his nose—something between amusement and surrender. "Just a small one."

You roll your eyes. "Right. Small enough that you’re sitting here rubbing your head like an old man."

He gives you a flat look. "Thanks."

Ignoring his sarcasm, you reach for his desk, rummaging through one of the drawers. You know he keeps medicine in here somewhere—he’s always prepared for everyone else’s headaches, just never his own.

After a few seconds, you find what you’re looking for and shake two pills into your palm before grabbing his forgotten water bottle. You hold both out to him expectantly.

"Take these."

He doesn’t move at first, just stares at you with that unreadable look again.

"Wonwoo," you say, more firmly. Finally, he sighs and takes the pills from your hand, swallowing them with a sip of water.

You nod, satisfied. "Good. Now go lie down before you pass out at your desk."

He exhales slowly, then mutters, "You’re bossy."

You smirk. "And yet you listen to me."

He doesn’t argue. Just shakes his head with the smallest hint of a smile before standing up. And for some reason, as he moves toward the bunk beds, you feel that warmth in your chest again.

You leave the room after turning the lights off to let him rest. You find Mingyu, maybe grab some late night snacks. As you and Mingyu walk through the hospital corridors, making casual conversation, a familiar figure approaches.

It’s him—Doctor Lee, the one who had flirted with you before.

Mingyu notices the way your shoulders tense and immediately perks up, eyes darting between you and Doctor Lee with barely concealed interest. "Oh, this should be fun," he mutters under his breath.

You shoot him a look. "Shut up."

Before Mingyu can tease you further, Doctor Lee reaches you, flashing that same confident smile.

"Hey, fancy seeing you again." His tone is smooth, casual, but there’s something pointed in the way he looks at you.

"It’s a hospital," you reply dryly. "You’ll probably see me a lot."

Mingyu barely hides his laugh behind a cough.

Doctor Lee, unfazed, chuckles. "Right. Still, I was hoping I’d run into you. Thought maybe this time I could convince you to grab a coffee with me?"

Mingyu freezes beside you, his head snapping toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. He is way too interested in this.

You open your mouth to respond—politely decline, of course—but before you can, a voice cuts in.

"She already has a coffee supplier."

You turn your head just in time to see Wonwoo standing a few steps away, arms crossed, looking completely unimpressed. His tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it, something just sharp enough that it makes both you and Doctor Lee pause.

Mingyu, of course, is thriving.

"Oh, do you now?" Doctor Lee glances between you and Wonwoo, one eyebrow raised.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Wonwoo, don’t—"

"She never has to ask. Her coffee order just appears," Wonwoo continues smoothly, ignoring you. "Sometimes with snacks too."

Mingyu wheezes.

Doctor Lee blinks, clearly trying to figure out if there’s something more to Wonwoo’s words. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what he’s doing, but before the other man can press further, you exhale and take a step back.

"Anyway, I have rounds to finish," you say quickly. "See you around."

Before Doctor Lee can respond, you grab Mingyu’s sleeve and yank him along with you, leaving the poor guy standing there confused.

Mingyu is absolutely dying.

"Wonwoo totally just alpha-blocked that guy," he laughs, struggling to keep up with your fast pace. "Like, not even subtle. That was lowkey territorial."

You groan. "Don’t start."

"Oh, I’ve already started." Mingyu grins, wiggling his eyebrows. "So… your coffee supplier, huh?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you walk even faster, pretending you don’t hear Mingyu’s continued teasing all the way down the hall.

As you speed-walk down the hall, Mingyu still snickering beside you, you hear the sound of familiar footsteps following behind. You don't even need to turn around to know who it is.

You sigh dramatically, slowing your steps just enough to glance over your shoulder. "Weren't you suffering from a migraine?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, walking at a completely casual pace as if he didn’t just interrupt an entire conversation to assert his place in your life, simply shrugs. "It went away."

Mingyu claps a hand over his mouth, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. He fails.

"Ohhh, interesting," Mingyu chokes out between laughs. "So you had a migraine, but the moment Doctor Lee showed up, you were suddenly fine? Wow. Almost like it wasn’t that serious to begin with."

Wonwoo shoots him a blank look. "Or maybe I just recovered."

"Right, right," Mingyu nods, "or maybe you just didn’t like what you were seeing."

You groan, rubbing your forehead. "Mingyu, please—"

"No, because listen," Mingyu continues, fully ignoring you now, "if I had a migraine, I would not be up and walking this fast just to make sure my ‘friend’—" he even throws up air quotes, "—wasn’t having coffee with someone else."

"I wasn’t walking fast," Wonwoo deadpans.

"Okay, but you were there," Mingyu counters. "Like, right there. That’s suspicious, man."

You throw up your hands. "Oh my God, both of you, stop."

Wonwoo just blinks, completely unbothered. "Do you still want coffee?" he asks, as if the last five minutes of chaos didn’t just happen. Mingyu wheezes again.

You groan even louder. "You are so annoying."

Later Wonwo drove you and Mingyu home. The car ride is quiet after Mingyu gets dropped off, leaving just you and Wonwoo. The city lights blur past the window, and you drum your fingers lightly on your thigh before finally speaking

"Hey."

"Hm?" Wonwoo doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but you know he’s listening.

"That thing Mingyu said … about you not dating anyone since med school—"

Wonwoo glances at you briefly before looking back at the road. "What about it?"

"Is it true?" you ask, shifting slightly to face him. "You really haven’t dated anyone all these years?"

He doesn’t answer right away, but you notice the way his fingers tighten slightly around the wheel. "I was busy," he finally says, voice even.

"We were all busy," you counter. "Mingyu dated. Seokmin dated."

Wonwoo exhales softly through his nose. "And you?"

You blink, caught off guard. "What about me?"

"Did you date?" He doesn’t look at you, but there’s something in his voice, something careful, deliberate.

You hesitate, then shrug. "Not really."

That makes Wonwoo glance at you, just for a second. "Why?"

You huff a quiet laugh. "Why are you answering my question with another question?"

"Because you’re deflecting," he replies easily.

You frown, arms crossing. "Maybe I just didn’t feel like it."

Wonwoo hums, the sound low and thoughtful. "Then I guess we’re the same."

That makes you pause. He’s right, in a way. You never thought much about dating, always too caught up in the chaos of work, of life. But hearing that he was the same—that he never even tried—makes something uneasy stir in your chest.

"So…" you start carefully, "was there really no one? Not even someone you liked?"

The streetlights cast long shadows over his face, and for a moment, you think he won’t answer. But then, softly—so softly you almost don’t hear it—he says,

"I wouldn’t say that."

Your breath catches, but before you can press further, the car slows. You realize, belatedly, that you’ve already arrived at your place.

Wonwoo shifts into park and finally, finally looks at you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, something deep and quiet and there.

You swallow. "Wonwoo—"

"Go inside," he says gently, cutting you off.

You hesitate. The air feels heavy, thick with something unspoken.

But in the end, you don’t push.

"Okay," you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Drive safe."

He nods, watching as you step out and close the door behind you.

As you walk up to your building, you don’t turn back snd inside his car, Wonwoo stays parked for a long time, staring at where you were.

You’re never like this.

You’ve known Wonwoo for years, been friends with him for so long that his presence has always felt natural, something you never had to think about. But now? Now, after what Mingyu said, after what Wonwoo didn’t say, you’re noticing everything.

The way he automatically sets a coffee cup in front of you in the morning, the way he subtly reaches out like he’s ready to catch you when you take a sharp turn in the hallway, the way his eyes linger when you’re talking—like he’s listening to every word, even the useless ones.

It’s worse in the on-call room.

Wonwoo’s at his desk, writing notes, glasses perched on his nose. It’s a normal sight, something you’ve seen a thousand times before. But for some reason, today, you can’t stop looking. The way his brows furrow slightly in focus. The way he absentmindedly taps his pen against the desk. The way he reaches up to push his hair back, exposing his forehead just a little more.

Seokmin, lying on the bottom bunk, suddenly snickers. "You good over there?"

You snap your head toward him. "What?"

He grins, flipping through his phone lazily. "You’re staring."

"No, I’m not."

"Uh-huh."

Wonwoo, completely unaware, flips to the next page in his notes. You glare at Seokmin before quickly grabbing your own chart, pretending to focus. But even then, you’re way too aware of the fact that Wonwoo is right there.

And maybe you have been staring.

The moment you walk out, Seokmin doesn’t even wait.

He turns to Wonwoo with a slow grin, tossing his phone onto his chest. "So…"

Wonwoo doesn’t look up. "So?"

"She was staring at you."

That gets Wonwoo’s attention. He finally lifts his eyes from his notes, blinking at Seokmin. "What?"

"She. Was. Staring." Seokmin emphasizes each word like Wonwoo is dense. Which, honestly, he kind of is. "Like, full-on eyes stuck on you. If I wasn’t here, she probably would've burned a hole through your head."

Wonwoo frowns, shifting slightly in his seat. "You’re exaggerating."

"Am I?" Seokmin smirks. "I don’t think I am."

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything to that. He just exhales through his nose and turns back to his notes. But Seokmin knows him too well—sees the way his ears go just the slightest bit red.

Seokmin grins. "Dude, I’m telling you, she’s noticing things. That’s a good sign."

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, flipping a page in his notes. "Go to sleep, Seokmin."

"Oh, I will. But just so you know…" Seokmin stifles a laugh. "I think you’re in trouble, man."

The rest of the day is… annoying. Not because of any difficult surgeries or unbearable patients, but because you are now painfully hyper-aware of Wonwoo. It’s stupid. Like when he rolls up his sleeves before scrubbing in for surgery, and you catch yourself staring at his forearms for half a second too long.

Or the absolute worst—when you’re eating lunch with the others, and Wonwoo absentmindedly pushes the side dishes you like closer to you. It’s such a small, automatic thing, and normally you wouldn’t even blink at it.

But today? Today, you almost drop your chopsticks.

"You good?" Seokmin asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Fine!" you say way too quickly, shoving food in your mouth to avoid talking.

Mingyu, the menace that he is, narrows his eyes at you. "Are you sure? You’ve been kinda weird today—"

"She’s fine," Wonwoo interjects smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee.

And just like that, you’re spiraling again. Because now you’re overthinking that. He just said you were fine. That’s normal, right? That’s just Wonwoo being Wonwoo. But now it sounds like he knows something, like he can see how much you’re overthinking him—

You hate this.

By the time your shift ends, you’re exhausted—not just physically, but mentally from all the overthinking. So when Wonwoo casually says, "Let’s go," and gestures toward the exit, you don’t even question it.

It’s routine, anyway. You don’t drive, and if Mingyu isn’t around to make you suffer through his questionable playlist, it’s usually Wonwoo who gives you a ride home.

The car ride is quiet at first, just the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of the radio playing some late-night ballad. You try to focus on anything else, but of course, you’re hyper-aware of every small thing he does.

"You were weird today," he says suddenly.

You stiffen. "No, I wasn’t."

He hums, like he doesn’t quite believe you. "If you say so."

You scowl, slumping in your seat. "You’re annoying."

"And you’re terrible at hiding things."

You whip your head toward him. "Excuse me?"

Wonwoo glances at you with the tiniest smirk before turning his attention back to the road. "You keep staring at me."

You nearly choke. "I— that’s not—you—"* You shut your mouth before you embarrass yourself even more.

"Don’t overthink it," he says, like he can hear your brain short-circuiting.

You glare at him, crossing your arms. "I’m not."

"Sure."

He pulls up to your place, and before you can even reach for the door handle, he beats you to it, leaning over to unlock it from the inside. You freeze for half a second because he’s too close, and you swear he hesitates too before leaning back.

"Get some rest," he says simply.

You step out, and just as you close the door, he rolls down the window. "And stop staring so much. It’s obvious."

"I WAS NOT—!"

But he’s already driving away, leaving you standing there, burning with embarrassment.

Wonwoo didn’t mean to say it.

But the way you froze, the way your eyes widened in sheer panic before you tried to deny it—yeah, that reaction was worth it.

He’s not stupid. He noticed the shift in you over the past few days. The way you’ve been watching him more, like you suddenly started paying attention. Like you were seeing things for the first time that have always been there. It would’ve been amusing if it wasn’t also kind of frustrating.

Because he’s been looking at you like that for years.

He doesn’t usually let things slip. He’s careful, measured. But with you? It’s always been a little different.

As he drives away, he catches a glimpse of you in the rearview mirror—still standing there, fuming, probably cursing him under your breath. He exhales through his nose, the closest thing to a chuckle he allows himself.

"Took you long enough."

He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches his own reflection in the mirror. And he definitely doesn’t realize that his fingers tap against the steering wheel the entire way home, like he’s buzzing with something he refuses to name.

After that you try to avoid him. Not in an obvious way, just enough to make sure you don’t end up alone with him again. It’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Unfortunately, Mingyu and Seokmin have noticed.

“You’re acting weird,” Mingyu says while stuffing his face with food.

Seokmin leans in. “Super weird. Suspiciously weird.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not acting weird.”

“You literally just turned around when you saw Wonwoo walking this way,” Seokmin points out.

Mingyu snickers. “Yeah, and you ran in the opposite direction.”

“Okay, first of all, I had places to be.”

“You went to a supply closet.”

“…Shut up.”

Mingyu and Seokmin exchange a look before turning back to you, both wearing the same smug expression.

“You’re doomed,” Mingyu says with a grin. Seokmin agrees.

Before you can threaten them, someone clears their throat behind you. You turn around—and there’s Wonwoo.

His eyes flick between the three of you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out, grabbing your tray and bolting.

From behind you, you hear Mingyu snicker, “Yup. Doomed.”

Later after another very long shift, you all but crawl out. There you see him. Wonwoo is standing outside the hospital entrance, hands in his coat pockets, glasses perched on his nose, looking completely unbothered by the cold night air. His eyes flick up the moment you step outside, and your heart does a stupid little flip.

“I thought you went home,” you say, stopping in front of him.

He raises a brow. “You were gonna chase the bus, weren’t you?”

You cross your arms. “Maybe.”

He huffs out a small laugh, then tilts his head toward his car. “Let’s go.”

You hesitate for half a second before following him. Because, well—this is Wonwoo. And he’s always been there, hasn’t he? Even when you didn’t notice.

You freeze halfway to the car. Wonwoo stops too, turning to face you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a slight furrow in his brows, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets.

"Why are you avoiding me?" His voice is steady, calm—but you know him well enough to hear the shift in his tone.

"I’m not," you lie, immediately looking away.

"You are," he counters easily. "You barely look at me during rounds, you leave the on-call room the second I walk in, and you suddenly act like you're allergic to coffee when I offer."

Okay, maybe you were being a little obvious. You shuffle your feet, gripping the strap of your bag. "I—it's nothing."

Wonwoo doesn’t budge. He just stares, waiting, and you swear the silence between you feels louder than anything right now.

Then, quieter, he says, "Did I do something?"

That makes you look at him. His expression hasn’t changed much, but there’s something in his eyes—something careful, hesitant. You shake your head quickly. "No! You didn’t—You never—" You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. "It’s just… I don’t know."

That’s a lie. You do know. It’s because of everything—Mingyu’s words, Seokmin’s teasing, the way you suddenly can’t stop noticing every little thing Wonwoo does. And the way it’s making your heart act in ways it shouldn’t.

But how the hell are you supposed to say that?

Wonwoo studies you for a moment, then sighs, shaking his head. "Get in the car," he says, walking ahead. "We’re not doing this while you're sleep-deprived."

You stare after him, a little dumbfounded, before scrambling to follow. Because, well. This is Wonwoo. And he's always been there, hasn’t he?

The car ride is quiet. Not the usual comfortable silence, but something heavier. You glance at Wonwoo from the passenger seat—his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, eyes focused ahead, his expression unreadable. He looks deep in thought.

And so are you.

Something stirs in the back of your mind. A memory, hazy but persistent.

It was years ago, after a long semester. You remember celebrating—too many drinks, too many laughs. And then… nothing. Just the aftermath. A raging headache, and the strange shift in Wonwoo’s behavior.

The day after that night, he started avoiding you. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but it became obvious—he wouldn’t meet your eyes, he stopped sitting next to you in class, and any conversation felt painfully awkward.

It lasted for weeks.

You never knew why.

Now, sitting next to him again, the memory presses into your chest. You glance at him once more, debating whether to ask.

But before you can, the car slows to a stop in front of your place.

"We’re here," Wonwoo says, voice even. He finally looks at you, and for a split second, there’s something in his gaze—something almost hesitant.

You swallow the words sitting on your tongue.

"Thanks for the ride," you mumble instead, pushing the door open.

But even as you step out, the question lingers.

It’s been bugging you for days. You try to brush it off, but the memory keeps surfacing at the most random moments—during surgeries, in the on-call room, even when you’re just grabbing coffee.

So, on a completely random day, when it’s just you and Wonwoo in the break room, you finally blurt it out.

"Why did you avoid me back in med school?"

Wonwoo, who was in the middle of sipping his coffee, freezes for a second. He lowers his cup slowly, eyes flickering to yours. "What?"

"You know," you insist, leaning against the counter. "After that one night out. The next day, you just—" You wave a hand, frustrated at how much this has been bothering you. "You barely talked to me for weeks. I thought I did something wrong, but I never knew what."

Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off or change the subject. But instead, he exhales and places his cup down.

"You don’t remember anything from that night?" he asks carefully.

Your brows furrow. "Not really. Just that I drank too much, and I felt like death the next morning."

Wonwoo is quiet. Too quiet. Now you’re nervous.

"What did I do?" you ask cautiously.

He hesitates, then sighs. "You… said something."

Your stomach drops. "What did I say?"

"You were drunk. I didn’t think you meant it, but—" He rubs the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically unsure. "You told me you liked me."

Your brain short-circuits You what?

Wonwoo keeps going, voice softer now. "I didn’t know how to react. I thought maybe you’d forget, or that you didn’t mean it. So I just… avoided you." He exhales sharply, shaking his head. "It was stupid. I know that now."

You stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. You think your brain might actually shut down.

Wonwoo looks down at his coffee cup, almost like he's debating whether to continue. Then, with a small sigh, he says it—

"And you kissed me."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You blink at him, trying to process what he just said. You kissed him?

Wonwoo glances up at you, his expression unreadable, but you can tell he’s waiting for your reaction.

"I—" You swallow, scrambling for any memory of that night. But all you can remember is drinking too much, maybe laughing too loud, and then waking up with the worst hangover of your life. "I what?"

"You kissed me," he repeats, slower this time. "Just once. It wasn’t… it wasn’t a big thing. But you looked at me like—" He stops himself, shakes his head. "I don’t know. I didn’t think you meant it, so I thought it was better if I just avoided you until things went back to normal."

Your heart is hammering now. You kissed him. You kissed Wonwoo. And he never said a word about it.

"Why didn’t you ever bring it up?" you ask, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo lets out a short, humorless laugh. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, do you remember kissing me that night?' You never brought it up either."

You stare at him, still trying to wrap your head around this. It’s not just the fact that you kissed him—it’s the fact that he’s looking at you now like this matters. Like maybe it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to him.

And the worst part? You’re starting to think that it wasn’t just a stupid drunken mistake to you either. You hesitate for a moment before asking, "Is that why you weren’t dating?"

Wonwoo blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. His fingers tighten slightly around his coffee cup before he exhales and leans back against the chair.

"I don’t know," he says slowly, like he’s choosing his words carefully. "Maybe. Part of it, yeah."

You feel something twist in your chest.

"What does that mean?" you press, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo looks at you then, really looks at you. Like he’s debating whether or not to say what he actually wants to say.

"It means," he finally murmurs, "that maybe I was waiting."

Your breath catches. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to. You can read between the lines. And suddenly, everything—the way he always looked out for you, the way he always made sure you ate, how he was always there—feels different. Feels heavier.

Like maybe you were supposed to notice a long time ago.

"I told you I liked you," you say, your voice sharper than you expected. "And you never told me."

Wonwoo doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you, unreadable, his grip tightening around his coffee cup.

"You were drunk," he finally says.

You let out a frustrated scoff. "And? That doesn’t mean it wasn’t true."

He exhales slowly, looking away. "I thought you wouldn’t remember. Or that maybe you’d regret it."

Your jaw clenches. "So you just decided that for me?"

Wonwoo rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn’t want to risk losing you."

You let out a breath, your chest tight with something you can’t quite name. You’re mad—at him, at yourself, at the way this conversation is only happening now.

"That’s so stupid," you say, shaking your head. "That’s so—you’re so—"

You stop, because you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. You just know it makes you angry.

Wonwoo gives you a small, almost apologetic smile. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Maybe."

You push past Wonwoo, your head spinning with frustration, and storm out of the room. You make your way to the surgery ward, still replaying the conversation in your head. Your steps are heavy, your thoughts even heavier.

Seokmin is at the nurses’ station, casually flipping through a patient chart when he sees you approaching. He immediately notices your expression and sighs. “Alright, what did Mingyu do this time?”

You shake your head, dragging a chair and plopping down beside him. “Not Mingyu.”

Seokmin raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you look like you just found out your whole life was a lie?”

You groan, resting your forehead against the cool surface of the desk. “I did find out something. From med school.”

Seokmin hums in interest. “Go on.”

You lift your head slightly, hesitating before mumbling, “Apparently, I told Wonwoo I liked him back then.”

Seokmin freezes. Blinks. Then leans forward dramatically. “You did what?”

“I don’t remember, okay?” you hiss, slapping his arm. “I was drunk. But he remembered. And guess what? He never said anything.”

Seokmin lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That’s tough.”

You slump back in your chair. “I don’t even know why I’m mad. Am I mad at him? At myself? At the universe?”

Seokmin clicks his tongue. “I’d say all of the above.”

You glare at him.

He chuckles before getting serious. “Look, you’re mad because it meant something. Even if you don’t remember confessing, the fact that he never responded—never even acknowledged it—hurts.”

You bite your lip, looking away. “Yeah.”

Seokmin nudges you. “So, what are you gonna do?”

You exhale sharply. “I have no idea.”

Seokmin grins. “Well, this is gonna be fun to watch.”

And so, you do what any reasonable person would do. You avoid Wonwoo.

You’re not dramatic about it—at least, you tell yourself that. You’re just busy. Too busy to sit in the on-call room when he’s there. Too busy to grab coffee at the same time. Too busy to share a ride home.

Mingyu and Seokmin notice immediately.

Seokmin corners you first, casually blocking your way to the scrub room with a patient chart. “So, avoiding your not-boyfriend now?”

You groan. “I’m not avoiding him.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head. “Then why did you suddenly start doing your post-op notes in this hallway instead of the lounge?”

You cross your arms. “I like the lighting here.”

Seokmin snorts. “Right. Because overhead fluorescent lights are so flattering.”

Mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t even bother being subtle. He slaps a tray of food down at your table during a late dinner break. “So, what’s the plan?”

You blink at him. “For what?”

“For whatever mess you and Wonwoo have gotten yourselves into.” He waves his chopsticks. “It’s been days. Wonwoo looks like he’s about to lose his mind, and you look like you’re trying to ascend into another plane of existence just to avoid eye contact.”

You scowl. “I just need time to think.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Everything? The fact that I apparently confessed years ago and he never told me? The fact that he’s acting like it doesn’t matter? The fact that maybe it does matter, but I don’t know what to do with that?”

Mingyu chews thoughtfully, then points his chopsticks at you. “Sounds like you’re not over him.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table.

He pats your shoulder. “Just talk to him. Before one of you explodes.”

The moment the hospital alert blared through the speakers, it’s like everything was put on hold. A mass casualty incident. Multiple vehicles. A bus, a few cars.

The ER instantly became chaos—stretchers being wheeled in, nurses and doctors shouting orders, the smell of antiseptic and blood thick in the air. Wonwoo moved on instinct, running toward the commotion just as Mingyu turned to him, face pale.

“She took the bus today,” Mingyu said.

Wonwoo’s stomach dropped. He didn’t even need to ask who she was. His feet were moving before his brain caught up. He barely heard Mingyu yelling for him as he shoved past people, making his way to the hospital entrance. Paramedics were still unloading patients. Some were conscious. Some weren’t moving at all.

He turned, gripping the arm of a paramedic. “The bus—where is it? Was everyone taken out?”

“There are still people at the site,” the paramedic said. “Some are trapped. First responders are working on it.”

Wonwoo didn’t wait to hear the rest. He ran.

The crash site was a scene of wreckage—twisted metal, shattered glass, the air heavy with smoke and the sharp scent of gasoline. Emergency lights flashed red and blue against the darkening sky, casting eerie shadows over the scene.

Wonwoo barely registered the shouts of firefighters and paramedics as they worked to extract victims from the wreckage. His mind had narrowed to one thing—you.

He scanned the scene frantically, his pulse hammering in his ears. People were being pulled from the bus, some dazed, some unconscious. His breath hitched when he saw a familiar figure slumped against the pavement, a paramedic crouched beside you.

"Y/N!"

His voice was hoarse, nearly breaking as he sprinted toward you. Your head turned sluggishly at the sound of his voice. Blood streaked down your forehead, a cut splitting just above your eyebrow. Your white coat was smudged with dirt, torn at the sleeve, and you had one hand pressed to your side, wincing.

“Wonwoo?” you murmured, blinking up at him, disoriented.

He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering over your face, your arms, as if afraid you’d shatter at his touch. “What the hell—why—why are you still here? You should’ve been in the hospital already—”

“Dr. Jeon?” The paramedic beside you spoke up, recognizing him. “She’s stable for now, but we need to move her. There might be internal injuries.”

Wonwoo clenched his jaw. He knew that but it was different when it was you, when he was staring at your bloodied form and realizing how close he’d come to—

No. He refused to think about it.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice tight, as he helped lift you onto the stretcher.

Your fingers curled around his wrist, gripping weakly. “Wonwoo,” you murmured.

His heart stuttered. “What?”

“Don’t look so sad.” Your smile was faint, barely there. “I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply, gripping your hand. “You better be.”

Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy, the pain dulling into exhaustion. The sounds around you—sirens, shouts, the rustle of movement—were starting to blur together.

“Hey, hey—no.” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with panic. His grip on your hand tightened. “Stay with me.”

You hummed, barely nodding. “Just… tired.”

“I don’t care. You’re not sleeping right now.” His other hand cupped your cheek, the warmth grounding you. “Look at me.” You tried. Really, you did. But the weight behind your eyes was unbearable. Your head lolled slightly, and that’s when his voice broke—

“Y/N, please.”

Something in his tone made you fight harder to stay conscious. Your blurry vision focused just enough to see his face—his usual calm was gone, replaced with pure, raw worry.

“You’re always… so bossy,” you mumbled, forcing a weak smirk.

“And you never listen,” he shot back, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “So listen now—stay awake.”

The paramedics lifted your stretcher, and Wonwoo moved with them, never letting go of your hand. “We’re almost at the hospital,” he told you, voice softer now. “You’ll be fine.”

You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the pain, or the way he was looking at you, but for a moment, you believed him. Wonwoo’s heart nearly stopped when your body went limp. He swallowed hard, his mind racing even as his training kicked in. You’d lost blood. Too much. Your skin was too pale, your breathing too shallow.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath.

As soon as they reached the ambulance, he climbed in with you, pressing two fingers to your wrist again just to reassure himself that your pulse was still there.

"Stay with me," he murmured, more to himself than to you snd when the ambulance doors shut, sirens wailing as they sped toward the hospital, he didn’t take his eyes off you for even a second.

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and the doors flew open. Wonwoo barely waited for the paramedics before he moved, helping guide the stretcher out.

“Female, late twenties, sustained injuries from the crash site,” one of the paramedics called out. “Multiple lacerations, possible concussion, and significant blood loss—she lost consciousness on the way.” Mingyu was already there, his eyes widening the moment he saw you.

“Shit—Get her inside. Now! Bay 7!”

Mingyu paled but immediately snapped into action, helping the nurses prep you for assessment. Seokmin rushed in a second later, his expression shifting from relief to worry in an instant.

“Her BP’s low,” a nurse reported. “We need fluids started now.”

Wonwoo knew he should step back, let the trauma team handle it. But his feet refused to move. His pulse was racing, hands clenched at his sides.

“You need to get checked, too,” Mingyu said, glancing at the blood on Wonwoo’s scrubs—not his own, but yours.

“I’m fine.” Wonwoo’s voice was tight. “She—” His words caught in his throat. “Just take care of her.”

Mingyu exchanged a glance with Seokmin, who rushed down the ER the moment he heard about the accident, before nodding.

“Wonwoo,” Seokmin said carefully, “let them work. She’s in good hands.” he pulls Wonwoo out the hallway to let Mingyu and his team do their work.

Wonwoo’s jaw locked. He knew that. He did. But watching you, lying there so still, covered in bruises and blood—he’d never felt this helpless before. His mind was a mess. He should have driven you home. He should have made sure you weren’t avoiding him. He should have—

The doors burst open. A nurse rushed past him. Then, through the small window of the ER, he saw Mingyu and the rest of the team working frantically around you. Something was wrong.

He stepped forward, but Seokmin was suddenly there, blocking his way. “They’re doing everything they can,” Seokmin said, his voice firm but laced with worry. Wonwoo barely heard him. His eyes were locked on the room, on Mingyu pressing down on your chest.

You had coded.

A sharp breath left him as he staggered back, hitting the wall. Seokmin’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke. Wonwoo’s hands were shaking. He curled them into fists. He’d never been this scared before. Not once in his life.

Wonwoo tried to push past Seokmin, but Seokmin held him back, gripping his arm tightly.

"Wonwoo, stop," Seokmin said firmly, his voice steady despite the tension in his face.

"I need to be in there," Wonwoo snapped, his breathing uneven. "I need to—"

Seokmin shook his head. "Mingyu’s got this. Do you think he’d let anything happen to her?"

Wonwoo clenched his jaw, his entire body tense, but he didn’t push forward again. He knew Seokmin was right but knowing didn’t make it easier. All he could do was stand there, watching through the window as Mingyu fought to bring you back.

Mingyu gritted his teeth, his hands steady even as the tension in the room thickened. The sound of the flatline rang in his ears, drowning out everything else.

"Charge to 200," he ordered, his voice sharp and controlled.

The nurse complied, handing him the paddles. Mingyu placed them on your chest, his heart hammering. "Clear!"

Your body jerked slightly as the shock coursed through you.

He checked the monitor. Still flat.

"Again! 300!"

Another shock.

Nothing.

Mingyu refused to let panic settle in. His friend was on this table. No, not just a friend. You were family.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, sweat forming at his brow. "You're not done yet."

He pressed his hands to your chest, beginning compressions. "Give me one milligram of epi!"

Time blurred. His arms burned from the force of CPR, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t.

Then A blip. Another. A weak, slow rhythm appeared on the monitor.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "We've got a pulse," he announced, his voice hoarse but firm. The tension in the room eased slightly, but Mingyu knew it wasn’t over yet. He looked at you, unconscious but breathing, and exhaled sharply.

"You scared the hell out of us," he muttered under his breath. Then, he turned to the nurse. "Get her to the ICU. I'll update the others."

As the team moved into action, Mingyu pulled off his gloves, exhausted but relieved. Now, he just had to face Wonwoo.

Mingyu stepped out of the ER, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair. The hallway felt suffocating with tension, and the moment he looked up, his gaze met Wonwoo’s.

Wonwoo was still pacing, his fists clenched at his sides, eyes dark with worry. Seokmin stood nearby, watching carefully in case he had to physically restrain him again.

The second Wonwoo saw Mingyu, he froze. "How is she?"

Mingyu sighed, pulling off his surgical cap. "She coded."

Wonwoo’s face drained of color.

"But we got her back."

The relief was visible—Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped for just a second before he straightened, jaw tight. "Where is she now?"

"ICU. We stabilized her, but she’s not awake yet."

Wonwoo didn’t wait for another word. He turned on his heel, heading straight for the ICU.

Seokmin let out a breath. "I’m going after him before he scares the nurses."

Mingyu didn’t stop him. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, exhaustion hitting him full force.

"You better wake up soon," he mumbled to himself. "Or he’s gonna lose it."

Wonwoo barely made it past the ICU doors before the nurses blocked his way.

"You can’t see her yet, Dr. Jeon," one of them said firmly. "She’s still unconscious, and we need to monitor her closely."

His jaw tightened. "I just need to see her—"

"Wonwoo."

Seokmin grabbed his arm before he could push past them. "Stop."

Wonwoo turned sharply, eyes flashing. "She almost died, Seokmin. I—" He clenched his fists, unable to finish.

Seokmin’s grip didn’t loosen. "I know. But you barging in there isn’t going to change anything. Let them do their job."

Wonwoo’s breathing was heavy, his body tense as if he was holding himself together by a thread. His gaze flickered toward the door, frustration clear on his face.

Seokmin sighed. "Come on, man. Let’s sit for a second. You’re no good to her if you pass out from exhaustion."

Wonwoo didn’t move for a long moment, but finally, he exhaled sharply and let Seokmin pull him back toward the waiting area.

Still, he kept his eyes locked on the door, like sheer willpower alone could wake you up.

Hours passed, dragging on painfully. Wonwoo sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together so tightly they were turning white. Mingyu and Seokmin were on either side of him, equally exhausted but keeping watch.

No one spoke much. The weight of everything that had happened hung heavily in the air.

Then, finally, a nurse stepped out of the ICU.

"You can see her now."

Wonwoo was on his feet instantly, not even waiting for the others as he rushed through the doors. His heart pounded as he stepped into your room, his breath catching at the sight of you.

You were stil unconcious, but you were breathing. There were bandages wrapped around your head and arms, an IV hooked up beside you. But your chest rose and fell steadily.

"You’re an idiot," he muttered, voice hoarse. But even as he said it, his hand hovered over yours, hesitant, before finally resting gently over your fingers.

Hours passed before you finally regained consciousness. The first thing you notice is the hand holding yours. The weight of everything sinking in.

You gently squeeze his hand making Wonwoo sit up and look at you, “Hey you” you mumble at him. He didn’t say anything at first, just looking at you. Making sure he isn’t dreaming, he takes your warm hand pressing it against his cheek

“You scared me” he whispered

“Sorry”

He shakes his head. He stands up, leaning down to give you a kiss on the forehead. His lips lingering there for a while like he’s savoring every second. When he pulled back, his gaze met yours, filled with something unspoken.

“You should rest,” he murmured, voice still rough with emotion.

You gave him a small, tired smile. “Only if you do too.”

“I’m not leaving.” You already knew that. Even if he didn’t say it, you could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t going anywhere.

The door swung open, and Seokmin practically burst in, arms spread wide. “She LIVES!” he announced dramatically, as if you had risen from the dead.

You gave him a tired glare. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, plopping down in the chair beside you. “Do you know how much stress you caused us?”

Mingyu walked in behind him, arms crossed. “You had me working overtime,” he said, half-joking, half-serious. “And I don’t even get paid extra for that.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was warmth in your smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll schedule my near-death experience at a more convenient time.”

Mingyu clicked his tongue. “That’s all I ask.”

Seokmin gasped. “Excuse me? That is not all we ask! How about you don’t get into life-threatening accidents at all?”

You sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “Noted.”

Wonwoo, who had been quiet this whole time, just exhaled, shaking his head. “They’re never gonna let this go, you know.”

“Obviously,” you muttered, but your chest felt lighter. Because as much as they nagged, you knew it just meant they cared.

Your recovery days were… frustrating, to say the least. As a surgeon, you were used to being the one treating patients, not being the patient. And the worst part? Your own friends were your caretakers, which meant zero chances of slipping out of bed unnoticed.

Seokmin was the worst about it. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked one afternoon when you tried to stand up.

“For a walk,” you said.

He pushed you back down with one finger to your forehead. “You’re on bed rest, doctor.”

“I’m fine,” you grumbled.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “You coded! You died for a minute, and now you want to go for a walk?”

Mingyu walked in just in time to hear that. “Wait, she tried to get up? I knew we should’ve strapped her down.”

You scowled at both of them. “I’m not a psych patient—”

“Then stop acting like one,” Mingyu shot back.

But it wasn’t just them. The nurses were in on it, too. They absolutely loved watching the usually stubborn and independent surgeon get bossed around. Every time Wonwoo came to check on you, you swore you saw them watching from the nurses’ station, whispering to each other.

And speaking of Wonwoo…

He was quiet but relentless. While the others nagged, he just watched you, making sure you ate, making sure you took your meds, making sure you rested. He didn’t have to say anything—his mere presence was enough to keep you in place.

But one evening, when the others had left, you finally had enough. “Wonwoo, I swear if you tell me to ‘take it easy’ one more time—”

“I won’t,” he said simply, sitting beside your bed.

You blinked. “Oh.”

He looked at you for a moment, then exhaled. “I just… I was really scared.”

Your throat tightened. “Wonwoo—”

“I almost lost you,” he murmured.

You stared at him, heart pounding. “…Okay.”

He gave your hand a light squeeze. “Good.”

“But that’s unfair, you can’t use that on me everytime”

Wonwoo’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smirk. “Use what?”

“You being all—” you waved your free hand vaguely, “—soft and serious. Making me feel bad for worrying you. That’s not fair.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “It’s not fair that you keep scaring me either.”

You groaned, sinking further into your pillows. “Fine. Truce?”

Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, pretending to consider it. “…Only if you promise to stop being reckless.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Define reckless.”

He sighed. “I hate you.”

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

“…No, I don’t,” he admitted, his voice softer this time.

You stretched your arms as you walked into the hospital, feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief. Being back at work after weeks of recovery felt oddly normal, except for the way your friends hovered around you like you were made of glass.

You sat across from Wonwoo at a quiet restaurant near the hospital, picking at your food while he watched you like a hawk. He had already subtly pushed a side dish closer to you twice, and when you slowed down again, he raised an eyebrow.

"Eat," he said simply, taking a bite of his own food.

You sighed, shoving a spoonful into your mouth to appease him. “Happy?”

He hummed in approval before sipping his drink. The meal went on in comfortable silence, but your mind kept drifting back to the last real conversation you had before the accident.

“Wonwoo.”

“Hmm?”

You hesitated for a second, then pushed forward. “Before the accident, when we were talking… You said I kissed you.”

His grip on his drink tightened slightly. “Yeah.”

“And you never told me,” you continued, voice steady but firm. “I told you I liked you, and you never said anything. Is that… is that why you never dated anyone?”

Wonwoo let out a slow breath, placing his drink down carefully. “I thought you were drunk.”

“I was drunk,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I didn’t know that.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “So what, you avoided me for weeks, pretended like nothing happened, and then just… never dated anyone because of it?”

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. He stared at you for a long moment, like he was deciding something. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I thought if I told you, it’d change everything. And I didn’t—I couldn’t—” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I just didn’t want to lose you.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. “And what about now?”

He met your gaze, something softer in his expression now. “Now, I think I almost did anyway.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and for the first time in weeks, maybe years, you felt like you were finally getting somewhere.

You stared at him, processing everything he’d just said. The years of friendship, the silent moments, the things left unsaid—all of it led to this.

“So,” you started carefully, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, “you spent all these years… what? Waiting?”

Wonwoo let out a short, breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s not like I planned to. I just—no one else ever felt right.”

Something in your chest tightened. “Wonwoo.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. “Do you regret it?”

You blinked. “Regret what?”

“Telling me you liked me back then.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“I don’t regret it. What I regret is not remembering anything”

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You really don’t?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted. “If I had, we probably wouldn’t have wasted so much time.”

“And now?”

You held his gaze. “I don’t want to waste any more.”

For the first time in weeks, Wonwoo smiled—not the small, fleeting ones he’d been giving you, but a real one, the kind that reached his eyes.

“Then let’s not.”

The moment stretched between you two, something unspoken settling into place. Wonwoo didn’t say anything else instead he reached for your hand across the table, his fingers brushing yours before curling around them. It was such a simple gesture, but your heart still stuttered at the warmth of his palm against yours.

“You’re really doing this, huh?” you murmured, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Wonwoo’s thumb traced lazy circles over your skin. “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

You squeezed his hand, rolling your eyes playfully. “You should’ve.”

After your shift of course he waited for you to drive you home, the drive was quiet. Like how it usually is. But this this there's a sense of peace, something more comforting. Wonwoo made a thoughtful hum before, to your surprise, he reached over at a red light, fingers brushing against your hand. Then, in the most unexpected act of affection, he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“What—”

“I like holding your hand,” he admitted casually, as if this wasn’t the first time he was doing something like this outside of a life-or-death situation. “It’s warm.”

You blinked at him. This man. “Wonwoo,” you deadpanned, but your grip on his hand tightened, betraying you.

“Do you have any idea how confusing you are?” you muttered, squeezing his hand.

Wonwoo chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “I think I’m making it pretty obvious now.”

Your face heated up. You turned to look out the window, trying to hide the giddy feeling bubbling up in your chest. And just like that, the rest of the ride home was spent with your fingers still laced together, neither of you letting go.

You swallowed, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. Wonwoo's hand was still in yours, warm and steady

“If I’m reading this wrong,” he said, voice softer than before, “we can stop. I don’t want to force anything on you.”

You turned to him, watching how he kept his eyes on the road, his usual unreadable expression now laced with something else—something hesitant, something careful.

Your chest tightened.

“You think you’re reading it wrong?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Wonwoo sighed through his nose, thumb unconsciously brushing against your knuckles. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t want to assume anything. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to go along with me just because…” He trailed off, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter with his other hand.

Just because he’s Wonwoo? Just because he’s been there always, in ways you never fully understood until now?

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You weren’t used to this—him being the one doubting things when it was usually you who overthought.

The car slowed as he pulled up in front of your place, but he didn’t make a move to let go of your hand. His fingers curled around yours loosely, like he was giving you the chance to let go first.

You didn’t.

Instead, you took a breath and turned to face him fully. “You’re not reading it wrong,” you said, firm but not unkind.

Wonwoo finally looked at you, the flickering streetlight outside casting shadows on his face.

“You’re not forcing anything,” you added, squeezing his hand. “I like this, okay? I like… us.”

Wonwoo just smirked, giving your hand a squeeze. “This is years in the making,” he murmured, like it was the simplest fact in the world. “Let me hold my girl’s hand for a minute more.”

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head, but your heart was doing something completely different—stumbling over itself at the way he said my girl.

You swallowed, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. Years in the making. You’d never thought about it like that, but now that he said it, you realized—he was right.

All those late-night study sessions, the quiet moments in the on-call room, the way he always made sure you ate, the way he was just… there. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t new. It was just something that had always been there, waiting for the two of you to finally stop dancing around it.

“…Fine,” you muttered, fighting the smile but failing miserably. “One minute.”

Wonwoo chuckled, and instead of arguing, he just laced his fingers through yours, holding on like he never planned on letting go.

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