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ktownshizzle · 14 days ago

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Love & Lullabies | Part 4

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: slow ass burn because the series will be extended indefinitelyyyy yall wanted this 😅, so much kissing, sexting, star wars reference, THIS YOONGI, cliffhanger hehe

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 6.7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: December 14, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

You glance at the clock again and chew your bottom lip, heart ricocheting against your ribcage. When you sent Yoongi the text, you knew it was overdue. You were finally in a good place—and he was part of what was good.

You’ve known Yoongi for years, but it’s only in the past few months that you’ve really gotten to know him. At this point, you’ve spent hours with him in every context imaginable, from tantruming Haneul to Miss Rachel dance sessions, from boring afternoons to big milestones. But this feels… different.

He’s coming to your place. You haven’t seen him in weeks, not since you kissed in the rain, and he showed up in the hallway, not since everything fell apart and started to piece itself back together again.

You’d started in your pajamas—just a soft cotton set with peaches on them—but after one glance in the mirror, you decided against it. Too casual. Now you’re in a cream-colored cardigan with a camisole underneath and matching joggers. You dabbed on a little lip tint, brushed out your hair, spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume. Now, you honestly look like you tried and while you don’t want to be too obvious, you remember he has been the one trying for months. It wouldn’t hurt if you showed him a little effort. And at least now you know you look cute.

The doorbell startles you, and you jolt forward causing a dull pain in your neck, which has been bothering you for days. You roll your shoulders back, in hopes to shake some of the tension away. You wipe your palms on your joggers and rush to the door, catching a quick glance at your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look… fine. You hope.

When you pull the door open, there he is.

Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in your doorway, wearing a gray hoodie, jeans that sit just right on his hips, and New Balance slides—slides—despite the winter chill. His hair, slightly longer now, still looks as soft as when you ran your fingers throu—

“Hey,” he says, stalling your thoughts. His dark eyes meet yours, something in his expression making you a bit self-conscious. But boy did you miss him.

“Hi,” you manage, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat and gesture at his feet. “Slides? In this weather?”

Yoongi glances down, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I was in a rush.”

“Come in,” you say, motioning for him to enter. “When I texted you, I didn’t say it had to be tonight.”

“It had to be,” he says quietly. “For me.”

Your cheeks flush, and you quickly change the subject. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Iced americano?”

He smiles, seemingly glad that you recall his favorite. “Iced americano sounds good,” he says, settling onto the couch.

You head to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice and coffee. When you return, you hand it to him, watching as he fumbles with the straw a bit. You forgot just how cute he is.

You sip your drink, glancing at him over the rim before deciding to fill the quiet. “So… first day at the daycare,” you start casually. “It went well.”

Yoongi leans back, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“It was… honestly, it was so great,” you say, the words tumbling out as you set your drink on the table. “The kids are adorable, and the space is beautiful. Everything’s so well set up.” You pause, the memory of the morning making your chest feel warm. “I forgot how much I missed doing that, you know? Like, preparing activities, seeing their little faces light up when they learn something new… it just—it feels good.”

Yoongi’s lips tug into the faintest smile, his gaze steady on you. “You look happy talking about it.”

You nod, almost to yourself. “I am. I feel… lucky, I guess. That I get to do this again.”

His eyes soften in that way that makes your stomach flutter. “I’m proud of you,” he says simply, his tone steady and sincere.

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is blink at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he says simply, leaning back against the couch. “It’s not easy starting over. But you did it.”

“Thanks, Yoongi. I really appreciate that.” You pause, then add, “I’m proud of me too.”

He smiles at that, the kind that’s so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t looking.

You grin back, the memory of the morning still fresh. “Well, we also had a capybara mascot.”

Yoongi coughs. “Oh? A mascot? That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” you nod, narrowing your eyes at him. “It seemed really into me. Kept shaking its ass in front of the kids, though, which… you know, questionable.”

“Shaking its ass?” Yoongi repeats, lips twitching.

“Weird, right?” you protest, though you can’t help but grin. “The thing was strangely enthusiastic.”

Yoongi shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds like a fun mascot.”

But then, he’s not done, like he’s empathizing with the man in the suit. “And of course he would be enthusiastic, it’s your opening day. I mean they probably briefed him to be supportive of you and whatnot. And to be that energetic despite the tormenting heat of that costume, he’s seriously doing the lord’s work…”

Huh.

You blink at him, before you decide to test the theory out.

“Haneul kept calling it Appa,” you say with a straight face. “I told him there’s no way his appa is in a capybara suit.”

Yoongi chokes on his drink, coughing again.

“Are you okay?” you ask, patting his back.

“Fine,” he croaks, his voice raspier than usual. “Just… went down wrong.”

You eye him suspiciously but let it slide, suppressing a smile that’s threatening to slant your lips.

He’s definitely the man in the suit. You’ll get him to admit it one day.

But for now, you brace yourself for the talk you wanted to have.

You set your phone down carefully, the action feeling weighted, like it’s tethered to the words you’re about to say. Your fingers twist nervously in the hem of your cardigan, and you glance at Yoongi, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… umm, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you sharply, his brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, the vulnerability in your chest blooming uncomfortably. “I was in such a bad place mentally. I hated myself, I was dealing with so much unresolved shit that I hadn’t even begun to work through.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. Quiet eyes, just watching you, letting you process your emotions. So you continue.

“Just as you depended on me to care for Han, I started depending on you too. I wasn’t happy with my life, but when I was in your place, I felt detached from my misery. Felt wanted and needed which made me feel good. But then… when Sung Kyung showed up, it was like everything I was already struggling with just got amplified. I thought I was protecting myself, but instead, I just… pushed you away.”

He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and the way he looks at you—tender and unguarded—makes your heart ache. His eyes are dark and steady, the kind that seem to see straight through you, but not in a way that feels invasive or harsh.

“I felt very insecure and abandoned from so many things in my past. I have been working on it though, and I feel like I’m in a better place now.”

The faintest trace of a smile ghosts across his lips as he finally speaks. “I get it,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m glad you’re better. I’ve been there too. Feeling like you have to be strong for others when inside you’re struggling.” He gnaws at his lip. “If I’m gonna be real, I thought you pushed me away because you wanted out. Honestly, if I were you, I’d dip too.”

“Oh Yoongi…” you start, but he shakes his head, so you let him carry on.

“It’s okay, I know my life is… complicated. Everything that happened in the last two months, hell, in the last year, threw me off, too. Like I just lost control of my life. Shit kept piling on and I didn’t know how to deal. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was to do right by Haneul, to make sure he was loved and safe. That was my focus.”

“You’re an amazing dad,” you say with sincerity. “And you’ve been an amazing friend to me, too. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You didn’t give up on me.”

His eyes soften further, and he shakes his head, brushing your gratitude away like it’s unnecessary. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice almost gentle.

“At first, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you admit quietly, glancing down at your hands. “I thought maybe you moved on. Or… that you’d rather I wasn’t in your life anymore.”

Yoongi leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he tilts his head to study you. “Peep the countless messages on Kakao that’s left hanging…”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I read every single one. And there were many times that I thought about replying, but I needed to sort myself out. I’m a mess and I didn’t want to drag you down, or add into whatever’s on your plate. You did say your life is complicated.”

“Yeah, but I was just worried about you, because…” his eyes drop to his drink, pauses, then he shakes his head with a chuckle. His gaze meets yours again, his expression firm. “Just promise me something.”

You blink, your hands stilling in your lap. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t do that again,” he says, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of vulnerability. “Don’t shut me out, no matter what’s going on.”

You nod before you can even think. “I promise.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, and the sight of it tugs at something deep inside you. It’s such a small thing—a slight upturn of his mouth, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes—but it feels monumental. Like the bridge you’ve both been too scared to cross is finally, tentatively, being rebuilt.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You think about the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, the way his voice wraps around your name like it’s something precious. And so you think, maybe, just maybe, this could still be something.

Yoongi’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Hey–what happened to your shoulder?” he asks suddenly, breaking the moment.

You blink, caught off guard by the shift. “What?”

“Your shoulder,” he repeats, nodding toward it. “You’ve been rolling it a little since I got here. Is it bothering you?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” you say, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s nothing, really. Just a strain from running, I think. I’ve been pushing myself a bit harder lately, trying to, you know, get my life together and shit.”

Yoongi frowns, his brows knitting together. “Running’s good, but you can’t overdo it. A shoulder strain’s no joke. If you don’t take care of it, it’ll just get worse.”

You smile faintly, appreciating the concern in his voice. “Okay, Dr. Min,” you tease lightly. “Any recommendations?”

He huffs a quiet laugh but doesn’t let it go. “I mean it. You have to be careful. My shoulder was busted for years, you know. I have a few tricks,” He pauses, glancing at your cardigan. “Can I…? I can take a look if you want. Only if you’re okay with it.”

You gulp. Loud. The neighbors probably heard it. And for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His expression is earnest, his hand already halfway lifted in a gesture of permission.

“Uh, sure,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. “That’d be… yeah, okay.” You shift in your seat, angling your shoulder for better access.

He waits for your nod before gently tugging at the edge of your cardigan. “May I?”

Your pulse quickens as you shrug it off your shoulder, leaving the strap of your camisole exposed. The cool air brushes your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of Yoongi’s hands as they settle lightly on your shoulder.

His fingers press gently at first, testing the tension in your muscles before applying more pressure. You inhale sharply as he works through a particularly tight knot, your body instinctively leaning into his touch.

“Here,” he murmurs, his tone soft but focused. “This is where it’s worst, right?”

You nod, unable to form coherent words as his hands move with ease, kneading the aches away. Each press of his fingers sends a mixture of relief and something else coursing through you, straight down towards your core.

“You’re really… good at this,” you manage to say, your voice a little breathless. Brain starting to turn into mush.

He chuckles lightly, the sound vibrating against your back. “Years of experience. Needed surgery to get my shoulder sorted out. That’s why I’m serious about this stuff. You need to be careful with it.”

His words linger in the air, and you find yourself focusing not just on the pleasure of his touch but on the deep timbre of his voice, and the way he’s always looking out for you even in the smallest ways.

“Thank you,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to meet his gaze. His hands still for a moment.

“Of course,” he says softly, licking his lips as you find his eyes going to yours.

Oh my god. You want to kiss him. Shit, you really do. You wonder if you should turn fully to face him.

But then his hands slip away, leaving your skin feeling colder.

You adjust your cardigan, clearing your throat as you sit back, your mind spinning. The intimacy of the moment—of his hands on you, the quiet concern in his voice—has left your heart like it’s going into cardiac arrest. If he fancies himself as Dr. Min he better fix this.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. “Better. Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Anytime,” he replies, with a small, almost shy smile.

He leans forward slightly, eyes searching yours, and you find yourself doing the same, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a second, you think he might kiss you—or maybe you’re the one who wants to close the distance.

But then he stands.

“It’s pretty late, I should go,” he says softly, though his voice carries a hint of reluctance.

“Yeah,” you say, standing with him. Your legs feel unsteady as you walk him to the door.

As he steps out, you hesitate for a moment. “Thanks for coming over, at short notice.”

“Nah, I wanted to,” he says, pink dusting his cheeks before he admits. “Is it weird if I say I’ve been waiting for it?”

Before you chicken out, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for waiting, Yoongi.”

He blinks, startled, then he’s rubbing his wrinkled nose with his index finger. “Goodnight.”

“Drive safe…”

You close the door and lean your back against it, pressing your hands to your cheeks as if that’ll somehow contain the giddy energy bubbling up inside you. It’s stupid, really, how much a simple night with Yoongi—his laugh, his voice, that damn massage—has you grinning like an idiot.

But you can’t help it.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like your heart is beating again, a rhythm that feels almost foreign after the weeks of emptiness you’d carried around.

So, it’s been a week since Yoongi came over.

Each morning at the daycare, Haneul’s nanny walks through the door with her usual warm smile, holding Haneul’s tiny hand as he toddles in. It’s what you’ve grown used to, so you’re not expecting anything different. But sometimes, when the door swings open, you hope that maybe this time, it’ll be Yoongi instead.

It never is.

You shake off the feeling quickly each time. He’s busy, of course. He has his music, his idol schedules. It makes sense that he’d leave the daycare routine to someone else.

But still.

The thought lingers, one you don’t want to examine too closely. Instead, you focus on the small joys: Haneul’s excited “Sarang!” when he sees you, his delighted giggles during circle time, the way he clutches Bora 2.0 during nap time.

And at night, when you’re settling into bed, your phone buzzes. That’s when Yoongi comes to you—not in person, but through his name on your screen.

Yoongi: How’s your shoulder? Dr. Min is still monitoring your progress. You: Much better, thanks. Might even survive the crossfit sesh Joon’s dragging me into. Yoongi: I just texted Namjoon. You’re off the hook. You: What? Yoongi: Can’t do crossfit with a bad shoulder. Doctor’s orders. You: Fine You: You know you’re not a real doctor right? Yoongi: 😑

Then another night:

Yoongi: Haneul wouldn’t stop saying sarang this, sarang that today. Like a little broken record. You: 🥺 My heart can’t handle this. Yoongi: I know.

And then the casual starts to shift:

Yoongi: Did I tell you Haneul fell asleep on my lap during my zoom meeting today? I couldnt move for like an hour and my arm died. You: No, but that sounds adorable. He probably misses u. Yoongi: Yeah. Shld probably cherish this while he’s still not embarrassed by me You: Definitely cherish but why would he be embarrassed by you? You’re such a good dad. Yoongi: I’m trying. But honestly? Sometimes it’s hard. I think about how much I’m giving him and I wonder if it’s enough

You pause at that text, staring at the screen for a long time.

Yoongi doesn’t open up often. When he does, it feels like he’s peeling back a layer, letting you see something raw, something vulnerable.

You: I think every parent feels like that sometimes. But from what I see, Han is such a happy kid. You’re raising him well and he’s so lucky to have you. Yoongi: I needed that. Thank you.

And then, late one night, the tone shifts entirely.

Yoongi: What are you doing right now? You: Bed. About to sleep. U? Yoongi: Same. Thinking about that night. You: Which night? Yoongi: When I came over. And you almost kissed me. 🙂

Oh, shit. Is he drunk?! You sit up, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. Mind thinking nonsense, like if this is about to be a booty call, what panties are you changing into?

You: 💀Be for real. You were definitely leaning in more. Yoongi: Maybe. Yoongi: Would it have been so bad tho?

Your cheeks burn as you stare at the screen, unsure if your heart is racing because of his words or because of the way they make you feel. You start laughing in disbelief, and soon you're screaming into your pillow. What the hell?!

When you finally compose yourself, you decide you want to ask him if he’s being serious. But before you can even start to type, another message comes through.

Yoongi: Stop overthinking it, beautiful. Good night. 😉

It’s late afternoon, and the daycare is winding down. Kids are being picked up by the HYBE employee parents or the designated guardians. There’s only one kid left, and he just happens to be your favorite.

“Sarang!” Haneul’s little voice calls, his gummy smile wide as he wraps his tiny arms around your legs.

“Hi, baby!” you say warmly, scooping him up into your arms. His chubby cheeks press against yours as he nuzzles into your neck, and your heart melts a little. “Wonder where Nanny Mel is…”

Before you can fully bask in the moment, you hear another familiar voice.

“Ready to go, Haneul?”

Yoongi steps into the daycare, looking effortlessly casual (and annoyingly sexy) in his usual hoodie and slides. His hair is swept back today, and you have to mentally shake yourself out of staring, not just of how he looked, but because this is the first time he has ever picked up Haneul from your daycare.

The tiny tot, however, has other plans.

“No!” he says firmly, clutching onto you tighter.

Yoongi arches a brow, amused. “No? It’s time to go home, buddy.”

Haneul shakes his head, burying his face in your shoulder. “Play more!”

You stifle a laugh, patting Haneul’s back gently. “He’s been having a good day,” you explain, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at Yoongi’s soft expression as he watches the two of you.

“Well, I can see that,” Yoongi says, his lips twitching in a small smile. He steps closer, holding out his hands. “Come on, Han. Let’s not bother Teacher Y/N anymore, okay?”

But Haneul just whines and clings to you like a little koala, refusing to budge.

Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his soft hair. And you would probably have swooned if you didn’t have other pressing matters. “Aish, this kid…” Yoongi sighs.

You shift Haneul in your arms, trying to coax him down. “Sarang, your appa’s here to take you home. You’ll see me tomorrow, okay?”

But Haneul just shakes his head again, this time tightening his little fists around your sweater. “Noooo!”

Yoongi crosses his arms. “You know, I thought I’d gained a bit more brownie points in the past months, but clearly, you’re still his favorite person.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” you tease, bouncing Haneul gently in your arms. “He loves you.”

“Yeah, but he adores you,” Yoongi counters, his eyes crinkling in a soft smile that makes your heart do a little somersault.

Finally, after a few more minutes of coaxing and promises that you’ll play together tomorrow, Haneul reluctantly lets go, sliding into Yoongi’s waiting arms.

As Yoongi adjusts Haneul on his hip, he glances at you, his expression softer than usual. “Thanks for putting up with him.”

“It’s not putting up with him,” you reply easily, ruffling Haneul’s hair. “He’s a sweetheart. You’re doing a good job, Yoongi.”

Yoongi pauses, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment. “Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place. “That… means a lot.”

Before you can respond, Haneul suddenly tugs on Yoongi’s hoodie, his little face scrunching up as he says in broken, hopeful words, “Sarang… come… home?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart feels like it might burst.

Yoongi blinks at his son, his expression softening, before a mischievous glint sparks in his eyes. He looks up at you, lips curling into that smirk. “I know, buddy. I’d take her home too if I could.”

Stfu?

The comment leaves you completely shook. Is he joking? Is he serious?

As you try to process his words, Yoongi just winks at you, adjusting Haneul on his hip as he heads out the door.

You’re left standing there, stunned, as he calls back over his shoulder, voice smooth like butter, “See you tomorrow, sarang.” And with a bite of his lip, he’s gone. Taking the rest of your sanity with him.

The lights are dimmed, the daycare is quiet, and the faint smell of crayons and hand sanitizer lingers in the air as you finish locking up for the night. It’s been a long day, but instead of feeling tired, you’re restless. Yoongi’s words plague your mind. From the time he brought up the almost kiss over Kakao and that quip he dropped when he picked up Han the other day.

Now you’re sitting in a bus stop near HYBE, gripping your phone tightly, staring at Namjoon’s contact. You’ve already typed and deleted three texts. Why is this so hard? Finally, you force yourself to type something and hit send before you can overthink it again.

You: Are you with Yoongi right now?

A reply pings back almost immediately.

Namjoon: Nope, but why? 👀

You groan. Of course, Namjoon would latch onto that. You can practically hear his teasing tone in your head.

Before you can second-guess yourself again, you press the call button. He picks up after two rings, and before he can get a word in, you rush to say, “Don’t. Just—don’t say anything stupid, Joon.”

“Yo?? Me? Stupid? Never,” Namjoon says, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “But fine, what’s up?”

You hesitate, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I need your help.”

There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon responds, his voice laced with amusement. “Okay, what kind?”

“Not the kind where you get to tease me endlessly,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see you. “Just… can you get me to Yoongi’s studio?”

Namjoon is silent for a moment, and you almost think the call has dropped, but then he laughs. Hard. The kind of laugh that makes you want to hang up and never speak to him again.

“Joon!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he wheezes, barely catching his breath. “My baby's all grown up. I’m so proud of you.”

“Stoppp,” you mutter, your face heating up. “I just… there's something I need to say to him.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawls, clearly unconvinced. “And this ‘something’ couldn’t wait until, I don’t know, Monday?”

“Namjoon!”

“Alright, alright,” he says, the teasing note in his voice softening. “I’ll text you the access code to his floor. Yoongi’s probably in there working himself into the ground anyway. He’ll be happy to see you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay…Thanks..”

“Use protection,” he says, his grin practically audible. “His kid’s still a baby.”

“GOODBYE, Joon.” You hang up to the sound of his laughter. Such an ass.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in front of Genius Lab, Yoongi’s private sanctuary. The dimly lit hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of a vending machine down the hall. Your eyes fall on the cat flipping you off on the doormat, bold letters reading: GO AWAY.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you should.

So you stand there, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. What are you doing? What’s the plan here?

You didn’t think this through. Not really. It feels reckless—like the day you went to his apartment and found Sung Kyung there with Haneul. You swallow hard, trying to push the memory away. You can’t think about that now.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock. Once. Twice.

Nothing.

You start to think maybe you should leave. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Maybe you should turn around and—

The door swings open.

Yoongi stands there, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and exhausted. His hair is slightly mussed, probably from running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves of one arm pushed up to his elbows. His eyes widen when he sees you.

“Teacher Sarang,” he says slowly, like he can’t quite believe you’re standing in front of him.

“Hi,” you manage, gnawing on your bottom lip.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

Yoongi glances past you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I know,” you say quickly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I– I just… I wanted to talk. If you’re not busy.”

He blinks, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for something. Then he steps aside, holding the door open wider. “No, yeah, come in.”

You take a tentative step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and faint traces of cologne washing over you. The studio is dimly lit, the soft glow of monitors reflecting off sleek black walls. It’s minimalist but warm, the kind of space you’d expect from someone like him. There’s a quiet energy to it, one that feels a little intimidating.

Yoongi closes the door behind you, leaning against it. “So,” he says, his tone careful but not unkind. “What’s on your mind?”

“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, staring at your socks before you lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “You.”

“Oh…” His brows shoot up in surprise, but the smirk that tugs at his lips betrays him. He straightens, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh?” you parrot as realization dawns on you. The look on his face? Like he has planned this all along. Like all the things he’s been saying and doing is part of an elaborate Jedi mind trick he played on you. And now you’re here—right where he wants you.

A quiet laugh escapes his lips as he lets you stew in your own nerves. He doesn’t move—just stands there, waiting, like he knows exactly what you’ll do next.

You take a step forward, then another, closing the distance until you’re toe-to-toe with him. The smirk growing on his face is both sexy and infuriating as shit. But okay, you remind yourself, he’s been the one waiting on you, chasing you… It’s time to put your big girl pants on.

“I wasn’t planning this,” you admit, letting your bag drop to the floor. “Your doormat’s rude by the way. But… Been thinking about what you texted. If it would have been so bad… if we…”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to follow your train of thought. He licks his lips, maybe subconsciously, but your eyes are drawn to it like a magnet.

“Not just that. Don’t act all innocent. You’ve been planting all these little seeds in my head lowkey for weeks, Min Yoongi.”

His gummy grin widens. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Suspicious as fuck…” You huff, your fingers reaching for the drawstrings of his hoodie. You tug on them playfully, your gaze flicking up to meet his. “And saying that shit in front of your own kid?”

“Damn,” He full-on chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he looks up to avoid your accusatory gaze.

After a while, he looks down. “And you came all the way here just to call me out?” He challenges, voice dropping dangerously lower. “Or are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Your pulse quickens as the distance between you shrinks, his presence so close it feels like it’s wrapping around you. You swallow hard. The thread holding your resolve together snaps.

And then it happens.

You close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s every bit as desperate as you’ve imagined it would be. There’s no hesitation with him, like he knows you are going to pounce and he is ready to be devoured. This mf–

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrap around your waist, steadying you against him. The way your lips move is fierce, breathless, like neither of you has the patience to take it slow. His tongue swipes against yours, curling in just the perfect way to turn your legs into jelly. Then, his grip tightens to spin you around and–shit–your back hits the door.

Hot and heavy, he breathes your name against the crook of your neck sending electric currents down to your fingertips. You’re easily coming undone with every graze of his soft lips, his wet tongue as it licks a stripe of skin from your neck towards the shell of your ear and the haze of lust is pulling you under slowly but surely.

But you’re not content to stay there. You push him forward, your lips locked again with his as you guide him toward the couch.

He follows easily. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sits heavily, pulling you down with him so you’re straddling his lap.

You open your eyes and you find him locked on you, dark and all-consuming. But then something else catches your eye from your periphery, like there’s another pair of orbs vying for your attention.

“GAHH! The fuck is that?!” you push yourself to a standing position, pointing towards…

The head of the capybara mascot.

Yoongi immediately turns crimson, his ears burning as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Knew it,” you say, staring at him in amusement.

“Fuck.” He groans, slumping back against the couch as he covers his face with his hands. “This is literally the worst way you could have found out.”

“Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted me there,” he mutters, peeking at you through his fingers. “I just… I wanted to support you. And obviously I wanted to see Han off on his first day so the costume was—” He pauses, clearly regretting his life choices. “Seemed like a good idea.”

Then it hits you—the exaggerated enthusiasm, the ass-shaking, the way Haneul kept calling the mascot Appa. You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

Yoongi groans again. “This is so embarrassing.”

You climb onto his lap, straddling him without thinking, and gently cup his puffy cheeks between your palms. “No, no, it’s cute.”

“You’re never going to let this shit go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The laughter fizzles out, replaced by a quieter kind of warmth as you shift closer. His fingers tighten slightly on your hips, grounding you in a way that feels steady and sure.

“I wanted to be there for you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t know how to do it without… pushing too much.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you turn to face him, your gaze meeting his. “You didn’t have to do all that, Yoongi,” you say, your voice just as soft. “But it means a lot that you did.”

His lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When he lets out a quiet sigh, you get bolder, letting your lips trail down to the corner of his jaw and then just barely grazing his neck.

Yoongi’s breath hitches, hands twitching slightly where they rest on your back. “Y/N…”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “I like this look on you,” you tease, your thumb brushing over the faint pink blooming on his cheeks. “My shy little baby boy…”

He narrows his eyes on you, hands settling more firmly on your waist. “Don’t push it,” he warns, but there’s no heat to his words, only fondness.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on his door.

“Yoongi-hyung…” the voice calls out. “You still alive in there?”

“Fuck off, Hobi. I’m busy.”

“There’s an extra pair of shoes out here. And I thiiiink I’ve seen it at the daycare.”

You meet Yoongi’s eyes and he’s barely suppressing a grin. He shrugs, as if to say, it’s up to you if you wanna soft launch this thing.

Eh, why not?

“Hello, Jeonghyeon’s appa,” you call out, confirming his suspicion.

You hear giggles and then a rap on the door. “Wow y’all really not gonna let me in, huh?”

“GOODBYE Hobi.” You and Yoongi say in unison, and then you burst out laughing.

“Bye, lovebirds.”

“Did he need you for anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” Yoongi sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Been working on a track that’s due tonight. Actually it’s been due and this is my last extension.”

“Oh,” you pout.

“Don’t pout, pretty girl.”

“I guess you’re gonna have to kick me out now.”

“Not because I want to. You're welcome to stay, but you might have better things to do.”

“S fine. I’ll go…” you stand up, planning to collect your bag where you dropped it when Yoongi pulls you back down by your belt loops, your full weight settling on him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he cages your body against his strong arms, leaning you both back so his chin can rest on your shoulder, the one without the strain.

“I am so happy you came,” he mumbles against the fabric of your top.

“I haven’t. But you better make me. Soon.”

His chest shakes against your back, “You’re horrible.”

You stay wrapped in his arms for a while, neither of you saying much, the silence warm and comfortable. But eventually, the moment comes when you know it’s time to leave. With a reluctant sigh, you sling your bag over your shoulder and turn to go—only to find Yoongi already on you, his lips capturing yours once more.

“Yoongi—mmmph…” you giggle, pushing him away lightly. “You're never gonna get work done.”

“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He catches your wrist, pulling you back for one last kiss—this one softer, slower—before pushing the door open for you.

“Text me when you get home,” he says and you nod.

You leave the studio with your heart in overdrive, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. By the time you’re in the elevator, you’re grinning like crazy, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Saturday can’t come fast enough.

That night—

You: Are u still in the studio? Yoongi: Yeah :( You: Good luck with your track. I’m going to bed. Gnyt. Yoongi: But i miss you.……….. You: lol You: What do you want? Yoongi: What can you offer? 😇

You sit up on your bed, pulse kicking up again, the way it usually does when Yoongi is involved. Is he really asking for…?

Fuck okay you’ll bite.

You let the strap of your thin cami fall on your shoulders, angle your phone camera so it’s aimed at your cleavage.

You compose the money shot: one hand softly grasps one of your breasts making it almost spill out of your top. Your other nipple, taut and perky, its outline faintly visible against the fabric. Just the perfect visual to tease and still leave a bit of mystery.

You get a few shots and send what you think is the best one.

You: [image attached] Yoongi: fuck Yoongi: baby you’re so sexy You: I’m baby now? What happened to Teacher Sarang Yoongi: idk she definitely not the one sending nudes You: stfu Yoongi: Go away im busy now You: GOODBYE yoongi Yoongi: pick you up at 7? You: If you make it worth my while Yoongi: [image attached]

Oh you’re dead. It’s a shot of his very pink knuckles, his very veiny hands grasping his very hard cock against his dark grey sweats.

You: shit You: yes you may pick me up at 7

Your head is spinning when you cozy up under your blanket and bury your head in your pillows.

Not knowing that come morning your head will be spinning for an entirely different reason.

Dispatch Breaking News: SUGA of BTS and Actress Lee Sung Kyung In A Relationship Congratulations to the couple.

Part 4.5 >

A/N: Ahhhhhhh 🥲 I was initially gonna end it in the part where Yoongi opens the door to his studio and you say Hi.

But decided last minute to throw y’all a bone(r) and extend the scene a bit, in the spirit of Christmas. But that also meant getting to that awful last bit… another dun dun dun

Hope you all liked it still! See you at the comments. As per usual, tell me what you liked, hated, etc etc. Shout at me or whatever!

I always appreciate your feedback. And if you are able to, reblogs are also amazing. :)

Thanks for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

Permanent Taglist:

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littleprinces · 7 months ago

Text

Masterlist

Hello this is my masterlist if you want to find my smut easily, and my new smut coming soon:

Kinkvember Masterlist 2024

Eunchae Series Masterlist

Community: Link

IVE:

- The Night of Passion ft. Liz

- Love my Bunny ft. Wonyoung

STAYC

- The Professor Pet ft J

- Claiming My Sister ft Seeun

- Petplay ft. Seeun

Kiss of Life:

- Tale of Forbidden Desires ft Belle

- Father's Desires ft. Haneul

Secret Number:

- Love Affair ft. Dita

NewJeans:

- First Time ft. Hanni

- Cool with You ft. Minji

- Stay in the Middle ft. Haerin

- My Daughter secret Desire ft. Haerin

Kep1er:

- For my Stepsister ft. Yeseo

- After Stage ft. Bahiyyih

- Breeding Session ft. Mashiro

- Bar ft. Dayeon

NMIXX:

- Passionate Sister ft. Jiwoo

- Slavecretary ft. Haewon

- Slutty Sister ft. Lily Morrow

- My Daughter My Wife ft. Kyujin

Illit:

- Pregnant Sex ft. Minju

- The Korean Rookie ft. Minju

Woo! Ah!

- My Nana ft. Nana

- Lost Puppy ft. Wooyeon

Lesserafim

- Submission ft. Chaewon

- Obedient Slave ft. Eunchae

- Daughter Desire ft. Kazuha

Fromis_9

- Fanservice ft. Jiheon

- Turn into a Pet ft. Nagyung

Weeekly:

- 712 Times ft. Jihan collab with @smutoperator

Aespa:

- Obsession ft. Ningning

Rocket Punch:

- Sister in Law ft. Dahyun

BabyMonster:

- Milady Asa ft. Asa

- Secret Relationship ft. Pharita

tripleS:

- Slut Sister ft. Kaede

Solo

- My Mother my Girlfriend with Kwon Eunbi

- Slave Sister ft. Huening Lea

- Taming my Stepmother part 2 ft. Seohyun

Mix:

- With Two Pets ft. NMIXX's Sullyoon and IVE's Rei

- 2 Cats in My Room ft. Loosemble's Hyunjin and NMIXX's Kyujin

- Am I Lesbian? (IVE Yujin x Billlie Siyoon)

Smut Schedule

Request here

#girl group smut #female idol smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut

447 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 10 months ago

Text

fail-safe (2)

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.

alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: i am So sorry for this .

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist

FIVE YEARS LATER

The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.

Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.

Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.

Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.

“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.

He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.

It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.

He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.

Neither could you.

Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.

Yoongi’s home.

Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.

Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.

Enduring is different than working.

You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.

You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.

There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.

Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.

In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.

The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.

It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.

Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.

Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.

Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.

“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”

“Yeah. Just us.”

Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.

Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.

In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.

Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.

He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.

His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.

Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.

The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.

In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.

“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.

“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”

“I’m not immature, you asshole!”

“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”

“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”

In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.

You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.

When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.

You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.

“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”

“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”

You’re numb if that’s the word for it.

Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.

Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.

Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.

You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.

Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.

“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.

Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.

“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.

He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.

“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.

Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.

You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.

To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.

The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.

You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.

Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.

“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.

“No, Joon. You give it.”

“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.

“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.

“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”

You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.

Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.

Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.

“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.

Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.

“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.

“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”

The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”

“This is not about the bug spray!”

“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”

Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”

You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.

“Don’t call me that.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.

He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.

You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.

You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.

Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.

It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.

“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.

“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.

“There. Just how you like them.”

There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.

Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.

( ♡ )

If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.

You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.

Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.

You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you’ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.

You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.

You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.

You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.

“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.

Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.

Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.

“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.

“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”

“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.

Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”

Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.

“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”

“You can stop telling me these things now.”

Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.

“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”

( ♡ )

Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.

You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.

For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.

He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.

Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.

You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.

“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”

You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.

Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.

“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”

“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.

“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.

“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.

“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.

Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”

A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.

“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.

“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.

The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.

“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.

Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.

“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.

(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)

You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.

In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.

You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.

“Okay.”

Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.

( ♡ )

A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.

You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.

When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.

And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.

Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.

If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.

The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.

“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.

You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.

“Abibas.”

Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.

“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”

Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.

Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.

The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.

“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.

“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.

“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”

You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.

“I never said that!”

You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.

“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.

“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.

Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.

“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.

“And you know, play for Korea.”

“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.

( ♡ )

On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.

The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.

You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.

You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”

“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”

“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”

“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.

“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.

“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”

“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.

Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”

Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.

Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.

You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.

In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.

“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.

Yoongi only hums.

“I know.”

( ♡ )

You’re falling back into your old routine.

Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.

Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.

It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.

You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.

Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.

“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.

“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.

You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.

“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.

“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.

“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.

It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.

Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.

Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.

Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.

#target audience im on my knees IM SO SO SORRY HOW R U FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi series #yoongi angst #yoongi angst imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts yoongi imagine #bts yoongi x reader

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 6 months ago

Text

Family No Matter What | Bang Chan

-> Pairing: Bang Chan x Single!Mom Reader

-> Request: from anon

-> Synopsis: Chan didn't expect to find his family on a flight back to Korea.

-> Warnings: Mentions of an absent father.

-> Word Count: 1,023

-> Requests: Open until 31st June 11:59pm

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©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Chan is on the plane heading back to Korea after spending time with his family. He starts to unwind after the plane takes off, when he suddenly hears a soft whimper nearby. As he opens his eyes, he notices a mother and her baby sitting next to him. The mother appears exhausted and overwhelmed and is desperately trying to calm the baby before he starts crying. Instead of being annoyed, Chan's heart immediately softens at the sight and he does what he can to capture the baby's attention.

Once he has the baby's attention, the baby's cries start to subside. Chan starts playing peek-a-boo and making silly faces with the little one. The little boy starts to giggle and clap his little chubby hands, causing Chan's heart to completely melt into a puddle of goo.

The mother looks at him with gratitude in her eyes, silently thanking him for his help and kindness. As the flight continues, Chan continues to entertain the baby, until he falls asleep.

The mother relaxes as she sees her baby fast asleep, his little fist clutching her shirt.

"Thank you so much," she says turning to look at Chan. "This is his first flight. I had prepared for him to be grizzley and unsettled."

"I'm glad I got to help," he smiles. "I'm Chan or you can call me Chris."

"I'm Y/N and this little guy is Haneul," she introduces.

Chan and Y/N engage in casual conversation while baby Haneul peacefully sleeps. Y/N reveals that she is a single mother, as Haneul's father left before his birth. It has been just the two of them since Haneul came into the world 9 months ago. Y/N also shares that she was in Australia visiting family whom Haneul hadn't met until this trip. Half way through the flight, to give Y/N's arms a break, Chan even offers to hold Haneul for a while. Haneul remains asleep until the plane touches down on the tarmac.

After the plane lands, Chan stays behind to help Y/N with her luggage, offering his assistance. Although he offers her a ride, Y/N assures him that her sister will be picking her up. Y/N once again expresses her gratitude for his kindness and company, to which Chan waves it off, happy to have been able to help.

Spotting her sister as they leave the luggage claim, she waves to her older sibling before turning to Chan one last time. "If it's okay, I'd like to buy you a coffee sometime, when you're free of course."

"I would love that," he smiles.

"Great!" she exclaims, her face lighting up as she looks relieved.

Chan takes out his phone and unlocks it. They exchange phone numbers and part ways with Chan promising to text her as soon as he finds out when he’s got some free time.

3 YEARS LATER:

"Chris? Haneul?" Y/N questions as she enters their home finding the lights off and no one seemingly home. She’s just gotten home from spending the day with her sister, getting the full spa treatment and getting her nails and hair done. After hanging her handbag on the hook and removing her shoes, she walks further into the house.

Upon entering the living room, she switches on the light and is completely taken aback by what she sees in front of her. Her boyfriend and their son are dressed in their finest attire, surrounded by a beautiful arrangement of rose petals in the shape of a heart. To her astonishment, Haneul, who is now almost 4 years old, is holding a sign that reads, 'please say yes'.

"What's happening?" she stammers, taken aback.

That's when Chan takes out a ring box and kneels down. Haneul stands beside him, brimming with excitement.

"We wanted to make this moment special for you," Chan says looking at Haneul before looking back at her, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Tears well up in her eyes as she looks at the two most important people in her life, her heart overflowing with love and joy.

“Say yes, Eomma!” Haneul shouts before she can answer. "Say yes so he can be my Appa!"

She takes a deep breath and looks into Chan's eyes, her own filled with love. With a trembling voice, she lowers herself to their level, cupping Chan’s face in her hands and whispers, "Yes, Chan. I will marry you."

Chan's eyes light up with happiness. He pulls her into a tight embrace, tears of joy running down his face. Haneul jumps up and down with excitement, knowing that they are now becoming an actual family.

Letting go of each other, Chan kisses her, slipping the ring on to her finger before pulling apart again to bring Haneul in for a family group hug. Y/N kisses the top of her sons head.

After a moment, they young family pull apart. Y/N takes her sons hands into her own and looks him in the eyes. "You know we've always been a real family right?"

He nods, but his eyes betray him. Y/N and Chan have always been honest with him about everything including Chan not being his biological father, especially after all the rumours that started after Y/N and Chan started dating. Even though he would only be four in a few months' time and couldn’t really understand what was being said, they thought it would be best, if he knew the truth from the start instead of questioning all the rumours as he grows older.

Chan also notices the uncertainty in Haneul's eyes and gently squeezes his hand, reassuring him. "No matter what anyone says, you and your eomma have always been my family, and nothing will ever change that. You're my son and I'm your Appa."

Haneul's doubt slowly fades away, replaced by a radiant smile. He wraps his small arms around both Y/N and Chan.

"I love you both so much," Chan continues, his voice filled with pure happiness as he embraces his family once more.

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kairoot · 6 months ago

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ateez’s little pirates !

꒰ pairing: ateez x poc!reader

꒰ synopsis: ateez’s kids and their bios | obviously these photos DO NOT belong to me, they were just placed for example and cause I thought they were so adorable 💔💔 this is all fiction.

꒰ ateez as dads masterlist

☆. hongjoong. — nelani & aidan

nelani 𑁍 — 2 yrs

full name: nelani ayana kim

korean name: kim nabi [ 김나비 ]

nickname(s): nabi, nana, lani, mini hong, etc.

birthdate: july 15

birth time: 3:05 pm

birthplace: houston, texas, usa

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean , [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about nelani.

nelani is the first born obviously 😽

she’s a daddy’s girl 100% but still loves you

she was born in the middle of ateez’s tour actually..

but good thing it was a day they didn’t have a show

hongjoong had brought you along because he did not want you by yourself with a baby that would pop out at any moment

she’s a very lively girl

loves bubbles (don’t know where she got that from..)

joong made songs dedicated to her when she was born

she absolutely loves dancing

likes painting

aidan ♬ — 8 months

full name: aidan kim/kim aidan

korean name: kim hyeonjun [ 김현준 ]

nickname(s): ai, den-den (made by nelani)

birthdate: april 7

birth time: 6:37 pm

birthplace: seoul, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [your language ]

facts about aidan.

aidan is a very calm baby

nelani is way more hyper than him, even when she was a baby

your pregnancy and delivery with him was easier as well

he loves dancing

joong takes him to the studio sometimes

aidan actually loves music a lot

whenever he hears it or someone starts singing to him, he starts movingn

☆. seonghwa. — samara

samara ✿ — 9 months

full name: samara rose park

korean name: park saeyoung

nickname(s): mari, mars (2), etc.

birthdate: march 21

birth time: 9:26 pm

birthplace: [ your birthplace ]

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about samara.

samara and her dad are literal best friends

you gave birth to her while visiting family

seonghwa named her

during your pregnancy, he would stress over names because he wanted the perfect one for her

you would literally wake up to him writing in a notepad at 2 am 😭

she’s his little helper in the kitchen

she loves eating

☆. yunho. — dylan

dylan ᯐ — 2 yrs

full name: dylan jeong

korean name: jeong yujin

nickname(s): dj, yuyu

birthdate: august 4

birth time: 10:06 am

birthplace: seoul, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about dylan.

tbh dylan is a little more of a mama’s boy but he still loves his parents equally

yunho loves playing with him whether it’s outside, inside with his toys or reading to him before bed

dylan is a quiet kid usually

but once he’s used to someone, he’s really giggly and has a warm personality like his dad

(tbh i can see yunho having way more kids than this but..)

☆. yeosang. — elaina

elaina ღ — 6 months

full name: elaina avery kang

korean name: kang dayeon

nickname(s): el, lailai (wooyoung created this)

birthdate: june 8

birth time: 7:17 pm

birthplace: incheon, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about elaina.

elaina’s a pretty quiet baby

she’s been very close to you since birth but she absolutely loves yeosang

he still gets a bit nervous because it’s his first time

but he still loves her so much

she falls asleep on yeosang all the time and loves cuddling

☆. san. — august ‘auggie’

auggie ₊˚ — 10 months

full name: august anthony choi

korean name: choi haneul

nickname(s): auggie, bubba, etc.

birthdate: august 10

birth time: 11:37 am

birthplace: incheon, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about auggie.

his first name is august but everyone just calls him auggie (mostly did this because i couldn’t decide between august and auggie for a real first name)

absolutely loves his dad — you too of course

atinys adore auggie

san came up with auggie’s name because of his birth month and it’s meaning

auggie can be a sneaky baby

he’s on san’s hip all day, 24/7

☆. mingi. — jasmine

jasmine ₊˚ — 2 yrs

full name: jasmine mae song

korean name: song jina

nickname(s): jas, jj, princess

birthdate: may 27

birth time: 10:06 pm

birthplace: busan, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about jasmine.

she’s a daddy’s girl 100%

she’s an exact replica of her dad; his personality, looks, etc.

jasmine isn’t really hyper but she isn’t calm either

lovessss cuddling with mingi

she likes nature

☆. wooyoung. — maria

maria ₊˚ — 10 months

full name: maria areum jung

korean name: jung areum

nickname(s): marie, mo, mookie-pookie (bruh idk i found it on Google)

birthdate: december 16

birth time: 8:06 am

birthplace: incheon, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about maria.

silly girl just like her dad (no she’s just like woo down to the BONE)

she never likes to go to bed which is a struggle for you and woo

early bird

she’s very hyper

takes her awhile to get used to people she doesn’t know

☆. jongho. — jun

jun ✧ — 9 months

full name: choi seo-jun (최서준)

nickname(s): jun, juju, junie

birthdate: july 19

birth time: 6:08 am

birthplace: seoul, south korea

hometown: seoul, south korea

ethnicity: korean, [ your ethnicity ]

language(s): korean, english, [ your language ]

facts about jun.

jun and jongho are quite literally inseparable

he lovesss watching whatever his dad is watching, doing whatever he’s doing, etc.

he’s a good balance between hyper and calm

likes sports like jongho, even if he is too young to comprehend it

jongho named him

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minisugakoobies · 11 months ago

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It's You - Choi San | Menace

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, slight exhibitionism, grinding, references to oral sex (f receiving), fingerfucking, San can't get enough of his Noona Word Count: 1.7k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?

A/N: Just a little early Valentine's Day gift from me to you 💝 Please note: there's a time jump here - it's not picking up where the last vignette ended, but later.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It’s You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

San’s been getting bolder lately.

This thing between you, unnamed because you’d decided it didn’t need naming, nor did anyone else need to know - so far, it’s been easy to keep it a secret. San’s always been very affectionate, so no one blinks an eye at the arm draped over your shoulders when you’re hanging out on the couch, or the way he tugs you onto his lap at parties.

No one sees the way he kisses you when everyone leaves the room. Or how you roll your hips into his, making him groan into your ear while the party roars around you. Little touches, light teasing, all make the secret even better.

You’re all over each other any time you have the apartment to yourselves. Which isn’t often enough for your liking. Especially when Haneul’s back on the night shift. Then it’s the three of you together all day and you by yourself at night while San and his sister are both at work.

So the stolen moments are fewer and further between these weeks. The longing drives you up a wall. At least you’re not alone in your suffering, since clearly San is feeling the same way. You know this from the looks he gives you. The texts he sends. He’s insatiable.

And it’s making him a little reckless.

Like the other day, for example. You were standing at the stove, lost in thought about your latest writing assignment as you stirred a pot of kimchi jigae. It was your turn to make dinner and you have very limited cooking skills, but stew? Stew is easy.

San was also in the kitchen, rummaging through the snacks crammed into the cabinets overhead.

“If you can wait a few minutes, dinner’s almost ready,” you informed him.

“But I’m hungry now,” he replied, and you just sighed, returning to your jigae. If you hadn’t been so preoccupied with your assignment or with the food on the stove, you would’ve clocked the gleam in his eye.

San came up behind you, crowding his body against yours. You let out a tiny squeak as he reached for a bag of chips on an upper shelf.

“Excuse me, Noona,” he whispered against the back of your neck. “Just need to grab something.”

“San!” you hissed, careful not to be too loud. Your apartment is tiny, too tiny to have any walls separating the kitchen from the living room. Haneul was watching tv just a few feet away, back to you as she sat on the couch. “Your sister is right there.”

“I know that. But I told you. I’m hungry.” He pressed forward, and you suppressed a moan, feeling him rubbing against your ass. You could picture how his cock looked at that moment, flushed and hard, straining to reach you through the layers of clothing between you. It’d be so easy to let him tug your joggers down a little, you thought, and your back arched slightly at the idea, before you got a hold of yourself, straightening up with a huff.

You shot him a quick dirty look over your shoulder. “Could you be more obvious?”

San laughed. “Oh, I could.” His free hand wrapped around your waist, holding you close while his lips brushed your ear. “Like if I popped you up on this counter right now and ate you out until you cried. Think she’d notice then?”

The image was so strong, you perched on the edge, toes digging into San’s back as he buried his face in your cunt, that your vision went as white as your knuckles did gripping the spatula, and you let out a tiny whimper.

San correctly interpreted this sound as confirmation that you’d gotten his point. “Maybe I’ll do that anyway, after she leaves for work.”

“You’re a fucking menace,” you replied, voice trembling.

He dropped a kiss to your shoulder before backing away. “Yeah, but you love it.”

Later, when he made good on his promise, hands firmly keeping your ass in place on the counter as his tongue made your hips buck, you realized you do. You love every minute of it.

So tonight, when you notice him giving you the eye from the other end of the couch, even though his sister’s sitting in the armchair, mere inches from you, you don’t look away. You’re sitting with space between you and San, a rarity, but it’s intentional. You’re so keyed up right now, a single touch from San might make you come undone. So you’re holding it together until Haneul leaves.

But that doesn’t stop you from letting him know you’re wanting him too. You bite your lip as you gaze back, to be met by a rising smirk, which does nothing to cool you down.

Haneul’s shift is starting soon, a fact that all three of you are hyper aware of, though for entirely different reasons. She should be showering right now, but she’s dragging her feet to catch the end of some movie she and San have been watching. You’ve become intimately familiar with Haneul’s pre-work routine, finding yourself literally counting down the minutes lately before she leaves you and San alone on a rare night when he’s not working.

After what feels like ages, the movie blessedly ends, but Haneul doesn’t rise, stretching in her seat.

You break. “Don’t you need to get going?”

“Eh, I’ll just bring Yeosang some coffee and he’ll forgive me for being late,” she says. “He always says I’m his favorite coworker anyway.”

“I thought he had better taste than that,” San pipes up, earning himself a middle finger from his sister.

“Whatever. You love me too.” She glances at you. “You know, he’s not seeing that waitress anymore. I could tell him to text you, if you’re still interested?”

If you looked over right now, you’re pretty sure you’d find San studying your reaction, which is why you try to keep your face as blank as possible. “Oh, I don’t - I don’t know… um, I’ll think about it.”

She shrugs. “Suit yourself. But I wouldn’t give it too much thought. A sweet guy like him won’t be single for long.” She finally shuffles towards the bathroom, and you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to San, only to be met with a cheeky smile.

“Yeosang, hmm?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Shut up.” You can feel flames of embarrassment licking at your cheeks. “Your sister asked what I thought about him once and I said he was cute, okay? That’s all.” You’re not sure why you feel so defensive, but San obviously notices.

“I didn’t say anything,” he states, raising his hands. Yet that bright grin of his remains.

“Well good. Keep it that way,” you say, shaking your head when he laughs. “You really are an absolute menace, you know th- “

San suddenly raises his finger to his lips. Confused, you stop talking. He points to the hallway, where you can hear the squeak of the shower being turned on. Then he mimics zipping his lips, and inclines his head, silently asking if you understand.

You nod, heart skipping in your chest.

San grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over your lap and his. Then his arm disappears beneath the soft fabric, and you feel his hand warm on your stomach before it’s diving under the waistband of your joggers.

“S-san,” you stutter. “Wait.” You can’t. You shouldn’t. Right?

He doesn’t pull his hand away, but doesn’t move it any further. “Do you want me to stop?”

There’s something so dangerous in his eyes right now, in the way he looks at you. You’re afraid you might become addicted to him.

Who are you kidding? You already know you are.

“We have to be quick.”

San grins at your response. He tilts his head, leaning towards you, and you accept his kiss with hungry lips. His fingers slip between your legs, tracing over your clothed slit, picking up more arousal with each pass.

“Gonna make you forget all about anyone else,” he murmurs, tongue gliding against yours. As if you’re thinking about anyone else right now. As if there’s anyone who could make you feel like San does. Thankfully, his mouth muffles your whimper when he pushes your panties aside and slides his middle finger in, sinking right up to his knuckles in one smooth glide.

“Nghh,” you groan, and San pushes his tongue into your mouth, trying to muffle your noises with the wet muscle like a gag. But despite the enthusiasm with which he’s trying, it’s not enough. It’s his fault, really, given that he’s the one with two fingers curling inside you now, stroking you just right.

You start to pant, lungs shaky as need consumes you, and San pulls back, examining your face for a moment, before he shakes his head and clamps his hand over your mouth. “Always so loud, Noona. Do you want to get us caught?”

You moan involuntarily, surprising yourself, and he drops his head onto your shoulder, fucking you faster with one hand while smothering your whining with the other. His hot, heavy exhalations on your neck are the only sign that he’s worked up too.

When your orgasm hits, you twitch and spasm, stomach and thighs quaking. He holds his hand firm over your mouth, letting you grind against his other hand while you ride it out, until you’re completely spent, making no more sound.

Your heart rattles in your chest when you lift your head. San catches your eye, a tiny smirk on his lips, and you impulsively press a kiss to it, transforming it into a full blown smile. You didn’t realize you were an alchemist.

When Haneul emerges from the bathroom, she finds you curled in the corner of the couch under the blanket. San’s in the kitchen, rooting through the fridge. You hope you look calm and relaxed, that your best friend can’t hear the way your heart is still racing.

“All right, kids. Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone.”

Haneul’s footsteps have barely faded outside the door before you’re on your feet, tugging San towards your bedroom. After all that waiting, you’re not wasting a second more.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san smut #san x reader #choi san smut #choi san x reader #fic: it's you

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random-potat · 6 months ago

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.:･˚₊ it's a skill issue

bsf!shota texts ft. jongseob, ni-ki of enhypen, taki of &team, haneul of kiof

synopsis: you're one of the few people who can understand soul

warnings: mild swearing (?), bad attempts at humour, not proofread

a/n: second oneshot!! ofc my first two posts would have to be my biases ◕ ◡ ◕ but also im just saying if soul spoke to me in kaomojis i would understand (￣^￣)ゞ also dont mind the weird blank space in the 4th pic idk what happened

my masterlists

likes and reblogs are appreciated ⋆˙⟡♡

perm taglist; open 📌: @yoizhrs @sunoostripletriple (send an ask or comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊)

#random-potat #p1harmony #piwon #p1h #soul x reader #p1harmony imagines #piwon imagines #piwon fluff #p1harmony soul #haku shota #soul fluff #haku shota x reader #p1harmony scenarios #p1h soul #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony texts #p1harmony jongseob #kim jongseob

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haluenx · 23 days ago

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Lee Donghyeok.

— Attractive.

Haechan rubbed his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble as he and Y/N relaxed on the couch. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and while he usually kept himself clean-shaven, he'd been a bit lazy with it this week. Y/N was sitting beside him, scrolling through her phone, but every few seconds, she’d sneak a glance at him, her gaze lingering on his face.

Eventually, she couldn’t resist anymore and reached out, running her fingers along his jaw. Haechan raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Just… admiring this” she murmured, her fingers tracing over the stubble on his chin with a soft smile.

His eyes widened a little. “You like it?” He hadn’t thought much about it, figuring it was just a temporary look.

“Like it?” She laughed softly, her cheeks turning a little pink as she looked up at him. “Love, it’s… really, really attractive.”

He blinked, his cheeks flushing as he processed her words. “Oh, I thought you’d prefer me all clean and smooth” he admitted, a little shyly.

Y/N shook her head, her hand lingering on his face. “Nope. This rugged look? It suits you. A lot.”

He couldn’t help but grin, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. “Well, maybe I’ll keep it around then” he said, his voice softening as he leaned a little closer to her. “If it means I get more of this kind of attention.”

Y/N laughed, her fingers grazing his jaw as she looked at him with a mischievous smile.

He leaned in, letting her fingers trace his stubble as they shared a quiet, electric moment. From that day on, he decided that maybe a little stubble wasn’t so bad— especially if it kept her looking at him like that.

#nct #haechan #nct dream #nct 127 #haneul masterlist #nct fluff #lee donghyuck

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bvidzsoo · 1 year ago

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Heavy is the head that wears the crown

Author: bvidzsoo

Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of human trafficking

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x female reader

Word count: 24,9k

Summary: Jung Wooyoung was a prince. Raised to be a King one day. Except that nobody asked him if he wanted to become one, it was his duty. Wooyoung thought he'd be able to travel the world, sail out and go on adventures, however that is just not how his story was written. So, one day, when he was only thirteen years old, he decided to take the pen in his own hands and change his own story. He became a Pirate. You, you were also a princess, soon to become Queen. Your groom disappeared when the two of you were thirteen and you figured you wouldn't get married now, so there was no reason to stay at your castle and live a boring life. You ran away, living quietly and humbly. That is, until Wooyoung came stumbling through your living room door. (Reader is called Oh Haneul in the following oneshots.)

A/N: Buckle up my friends, this one is a longer one; but it became my absolute favorite one lol. This oneshot now definitely has a special place in my heart. Next part won't be up too soon as I'm busy with things, I hope y'all can understand, I can't wait to write my pookie Mingi's part lol. I hope you'll find it as funny as I do and don't shy away, leave feedback! Enjoy now!

Taglist: @pingyu-in-wonderland @marievllr-abg @lelaleleb @loveforred @horanghae8 @jeonghanscarat7 @orshii @mundayoonimnida @m3tavita @silentcry329 @icarusignite @cooljuni @sharksandminhos @mountiiny

Series Masterlist ↭ Previous Part

The life of a princess was lavishing and comfortable. The people around you always had everything you needed and would deliver it to you before you could even ask for it. It was as if they could read your mind, anticipate your thoughts and actions. Princesses were supposed to be beautiful and humble, respectful, with a smile always on their faces. They were supposed to hide their mouths when they laughed, never too loudly, of course, and they weren’t supposed to keep eye contact for too long with a man. Princesses were supposed to be well mannered and studious, and able to hold a conversation about any topic. Princesses were supposed to speak softly and slowly so that everyone could understand them, yet they shouldn’t speak up first, unasked. Princesses were supposed to hold their chins up high and stand with their backs straight, almost gliding when they walked, never allowed to run. Or to skip their beauty sleep, meaning they always had to go to bed early. Of course, they weren’t allowed to be seen with any man, other than their betrothed, and they weren’t allowed to sneak around. Princesses weren’t allowed to talk back to their parents and they had to accept whatever future they built for them. Princesses couldn’t say no to ruling if they were next in line to the throne and they also weren’t allowed to choose their own lovers. Not when they were supposed to marry the prince in the neighboring kingdom who was the same age as them, their marriage unifying two powerful forces: The Sun Rise Kingdom and The South Kingdom. But what was a princess supposed to do if their betrothed disappeared one day without a trace? If he got kidnapped by pirates and then never returned to his parents? To his Kingdom? To fulfill his duties as a monarch and man? What was a princess supposed to do then? I still haven’t figured out that part yet, but for once, I decided to take the reins in my owns hands and write my own future. If my betrothed could disappear off the surface of Earth, then I could do it too. And that is exactly what I did when I turned twenty. I waited for my mother to fall asleep and then quickly packed everything I deemed precious and important for my journey into a briefcase, then dressed in my maid’s clothes and made sure to conceal my face. I had to be swift with my escape and if anyone recognized me, I knew my mother would never let me out of her sight. I wanted to live a free life, to see what I would become if I was stripped of my title. Would I still live comfortably? Would people be finally genuine with me? And not pretend to like me for the sake of a title I inherited by being born into the royal Oh family? I wanted to see if I could fend for myself. But most importantly, I wanted to get away from my mother’s scrutinizing glares and sharp words reminding me daily of who I was. Princess Oh Y/N, next in line to the throne, still waiting for her betrothed to return. At some point I had given up on the fantasy of ever seeing him again. But my mother, however, vehemently believed that my prince would return soon and fix all of his wrongdoings. To be fair, I only remembered his family name at this point, Jung, and barely the shape of his eyes and their color back when he was eleven. We’ve met once in our lives, when we were eleven, and then never again. Because three days later, he was gone. Apparently captured and taken by pirates. Many believed he was dead, many believed he joined those pirates willingly. His family shut down those silly rumors quickly and reassured my mother that he would return and then we’d finally get married.

But I didn’t want to wait for him anymore. It was useless. I didn’t even love him or want him. I didn’t want a total stranger as my King. And as I ran as far away from the castle, heart thumping wildly and feet aching from such strenuous activity for my sheltered body, I realized I didn’t even want to become a Queen anymore. Why would I even want that? To become like my mother? Rigid and vengeful, always having to watch my steps because someone was out for my head? Her own husband tried to kill my mother, my own father, did I truly want that life? For my King to abandon me and wish harm upon me? I did not regret escaping the safety of my castle, of my nation, of my Kingdom. The sailor ship I snuck on was nasty and dirty, filled with drunken sailors as they screamed their lungs out, too wrapped up in their songs to notice a woman struggling to pull her briefcase over the railing. They either didn’t care, or I just hid too well, because they never even bothered looking for me the following days. They never came towards the supply room I was hiding in, and if they did, they quickly grabbed the rum off the shelves and then left the room, whistling loudly. I counted the days, somewhere around five, by the time we decked down. I had no idea where I was as I made a run for it, knocking a few sailors off their feet as I got off the ship, panting and struggling to carry my briefcase. Their shouts were loud but they never bothered chasing after me. I had no idea in which Kingdom I was in, perhaps it was still the Sun Rise, just a smaller island of it. I hoped that wasn’t the case, because I would be back home in no time if anyone recognized me. But in the three years I’ve been living on my own, my identity remained a secret to the people around me, nobody ever recognized me or suspected me of being royalty. Perhaps it was because I lived on one of the Nordic island’s from the South Kingdom, perhaps it was because people never looked for too long at you. They rarely questioned your origins or your life story. Here, everyone seemed to be busy with their own lives and problems. People also weren’t as nice and friendly as back home, but I found it refreshing. For once in my life, I felt like I was truly invisible, left alone and unbothered. Nobody pried for something which didn’t concern them and nobody forced their kindness on you, expecting you to return it one day. If someone here did something for you, it was because they wanted to and not because they secretly wished for you to do the same for them.

I found it easier to live here, the town I settled down in was well off and progressive. Women here were allowed to do as they wished, and so, they opened an institute for the younglings, where governesses would teach them everything they had to know about our world. Girls and boys alike were welcomed, poor and rich, their differences placed aside. The institute is where I found myself working, as a smaller governess, someone who taught the children etiquette. It was a sudden thought I had one night, as I was wondering how I would earn my own money since the one I brought with myself from the castle wouldn’t last me forever, and I realized that for once in my life I could use all of those years of living as a princess to my advantage. Everyone loved well-mannered, well-spoken and studious people, I found myself perfect to do such a job. So, the next day I walked to the institute and proposed to teach said subject and everyone was thrilled by the idea. I didn’t demand for a high pay, the cottage I was living in was fairly cheap when I bought it, and food here seemed to be a lot more accessible than back at my own kingdom. The only pricey items were my canvas, brushes, and colors. I loved to paint and I couldn’t imagine my life without it. Whenever I had free time, which I had lots at the castle, I would sit in the gardens and paint whatever I felt inspired by. Here, in the town, I had less free time, but I managed to balance my attention onto everything. The young mothers seemed to adore me and often brought cookies and delicious meals for me at the institute as a show of gratitude for the work I put in with their children, I often found myself not having to cook anything at home. Living here for the past three years has truly been liberating, however, I couldn’t deny it, I did find myself missing the posh lifestyle from time to time. Sometimes I would wake up in the morning and unconsciously reach for the bell to ring for my maids to come open the curtains and window for me. Or sometimes I would find myself sitting at my stand, painting, and if I forgot something I needed, I would scream the name of my most trusted maid, only to realize she wouldn’t be coming around. There were evenings when I was so tired I wanted someone to warm up the water in the bathtub for me and cook me a chicken noodle soup, but unfortunately, I now had to do all that by myself. I couldn’t complain, unless my body was aching from having a strenuous day, which happened less often lately. It was a comforting thought. It means that I was finally becoming familiar with the chosen lifestyle.

I had just finished up my lessons at the institution and after locking up, I walked to the market to see if I could buy some vegetables. It was late in the evening, but some vendors stayed out until the sun was setting. My favorite vendor was still there by the time I walked through the square and I quickly approached her, greeting her with a warm smile.

“Oh, dear,” She smiled back brightly, her hair a light gray color, “I had a feeling you would come by today, I waited for you.”

“You shouldn’t have, Mrs. Chwe.” I picked up two carrots and three potatoes, placing them in my handbag once Mrs. Chwe saw them, “Let me walk you back home, then. The sun will be soon gone, you shouldn’t walk alone.”

“Do not worry about me, dear.” Mrs. Chwe chuckled and handed me two tomatoes with a wink, “I know my way around here better than you do. Nobody casts a second glance at an old dame, unlike you—a beautiful young lady. You better head back quickly.”

I chuckled and grabbed ten pennies from my pouch, “I insist, Mrs. Chwe.”

“And I insist too.” She was a stubborn old lady, “You had a long day, I heard you stayed at the institute all day long. The headmistress stopped by not long ago.”

“Of course,” I chuckled and handed Mrs. Chwe the pennies. The headmistress loved to gossip and talk nonsense, it didn’t surprise me she was quick to let everyone know of my packed day. She was a lady I didn’t quite like, “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait until you pack up at least?”

“No, no.” Mrs. Chwe shook her head and ushered me away with her hand, “Go home and cook something tasty.”

“Alright, have a good night, Mrs. Chwe!” I bowed with a polite smile and the old lady waved briefly before she turned around with a sigh and started packing away the remained vegetables. I turned around and walked the way I have come, until the main road came to an end and I turned to the left, walking down the deserted street. People were getting inside their houses and getting ready for the evening, the squeals and laughter of little children in the gardens the only sounds besides my footsteps. I sighed and stared up at the sky for a brief moment, taking in the tranquility of the evening. I liked it when nobody was around after a long day. It allowed me time to shake off the stress and plan what I had to do the next day. I turned to the right, walking down a dirt path, small cottages on both sides. A few of my neighbors were out in the gardens or standing in their doorway, conversing with each other. My little cottage was second to last on our street and I walked up to the short stone covered path which lead to the back of the house, greeting my neighbor in the process as he was sipping his tea, holding a book to his face. The entrance was at the back of the house, and I didn’t mind. It was actually what convinced me to buy it. I liked the intimacy it offered. No one could see when I came and went, I knew a few mothers on our street liked to monitor everyone’s steps. I placed the handbag on the ground and reached for the key in my pouch, feeling around for it until I found it. As I pushed the key into the keyhole, I realized my door was unlocked. My eyebrows furrowed and I stared down at my hand, wondering whether I have locked it this morning or not. Did I not lock it? How could I forget such important thing? I scoffed and gently pushed the door open, grabbing the handbag off the ground and stepping inside. Dusk settled upon and it wasn’t bright anymore outside, or in the house, but you could still see well without a light source. As I closed the door behind me and looked ahead, I froze. There, an unknown man, was standing across from me in the room. His back was turned to me and his hands were behind his back as he seemed to be staring up at the wall. At my paintings. I stopped breathing, fearing that he could hear me. He probably heard me enter, yet he hasn’t moved. I carefully placed the handbag on the ground as I kept my eyes on the man, slowly and silently reaching for the vase standing on a stand to the left of the door. It was heavy and old, I brought it with myself from the castle. It was my great-grandmothers. It could also serve as a weapon if necessary. I took in the attire of the man and realized he wasn’t a lieutenant or soldier from the Navy, so he couldn’t have been sent by my mother. But then…who was he? His black cotton pants looked loose around his frame and I could see a white collar peeking out from underneath the heavy coat he was wearing. The jacket looked odd, old and patched up in multiple places, different fabrics stitched to the original one. I didn’t dare assume who this man was, but he looked like he wasn’t exactly a good guy. The second he hummed I knew I had to proceed, so I threw the vase towards him, aiming for his head, but before it could touch him, he jumped away. The vase crashed into the wall and shattered into million pieces, making me frown at the destroyed relic. My mother would kill me right now if she were here with me. The unknown man sharply whirled around, his face morphed into shock as he gasped loudly, dramatically.

“That could’ve been my head!” The man’s voice was squeaky as he pointed at the wall, which the vase initially hit. My eyebrows furrowed at the man’s words and I scoffed, eyes falling onto the pillows I had on the sofa. I didn’t dwell much on the thought just jumped on the couch and grabbed two bigger pillows as I hauled them in his direction. The man screeched as one hit him in the stomach and he suddenly took off towards me, face red.

“Stop right there!” I commanded, heart thumping wildly as I held another pillow out threateningly. The man suddenly froze and he eyed the pillow with narrowed eyes, scoffing when he looked back at me. His face was chiseled and sun-kissed, his jawline sharp. His full lips were cherry colored and his nose big and fitting for his face shape. His eyes weren’t too sharp and held friendliness in them despite the situation we found ourselves in, a mole stood proudly underneath his left eye.

“So, will you throw that one too?” He raised an eyebrow, taunting. His voice was smooth, sounded nothing like the screech he let out mere minutes ago. I gulped and glanced at the pillow I was holding before looking back at the stranger, a handsome one. Without saying anything I threw the pillow at him and he caught it easily, lips pulling up in a lopsided smirk. I quickly took the other two pillows, the last ones, and stood up, staring him down. He dropped the pillow and raised both hands in a motion of peace, but that moved his long coat, the handle of a sword glinting. I gulped before I looked back into his eyes.

“You don’t have to be so aggressive; I didn’t even do anything.” The man said with a tentative smile and my eyebrows furrowed.

“You broke into my home!” I answered incredulously and suddenly realized how smart it was to have soldiers littered around your castle. There was someone who’d be able to protect you from intruders, yet here I was, forced to defend myself on my own. I had to run away while I still could. I had no idea who this man was and what he wanted from me.

“Not my smoothest move, I admit—” The man cleared his throat, still holding his arms up, “But all of your windows were locked.”

“Of course, they were!” I exclaimed, irritated with the man, “So that they keep people like you out.”

The man chuckled and lowered his arms to cross them in front of his chest, “Yeah, and look where that got you—”

I threw one pillow forcefully, managing to knock it into the man’s face. I bit my lower lip to keep myself from laughing as his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked appalled, “Right as I was about to tell you how pretty those paintings are…”

I glanced briefly at my paintings, but took a step back when the man took one towards me, “Thank you, I made them myself. Will you kindly walk out of my house so that I don’t have to scream for my neighbors to call for the constable?”

“Would you not report me if I left now?” The man asked with both of his eyebrows raised and I smiled, remembering all those hours at the castle where I had to learn how to hide my own emotions and how to be persuasive.

“If you don’t harm me, I won’t.” I said softly and the man narrowed his eyes at me, leaning a bit forward, as if he was trying to get a better look at my face. I kept my face neutral and looked him back in the eyes, trying to read his emotions. But his face was a mask of blankness, just like mine, that is until he smirked smugly, stood up straight, and ran both hands through his jelled back black hair.

“I’m not here to harm you, princess.” I couldn’t help the involuntary flinch of my body at the mention of the title, but quickly covered it by starting to fidget around as if I was feeling nervous all of a sudden. The man watched me closely, same smirk still on his lips, “I’m not a savage like that, you know?”

“Then what do you want?” I asked quietly, feigning fear as I quickly made up my route of escape. I throw the pillow at his head again and dash for the door. Then I run down to my neighbor’s house and ask for help. Certainly this man wouldn’t follow through with his plans if I wasn’t alone anymore.

“Money, lots of it.” His answer sounded strangely genuine and I gulped.

“I don’t have much, but I can give it to you—”

“Here you don’t have much, princess.” The glint in his eyes suddenly made me nervous and I tensed, wondering whether that truly was just a nickname or he knew about my true identity. I let out a quiet breath and took the tiniest step towards the door, ready to proceed with my plan, “You wouldn’t have been able to bring much alone, right? Princess Oh Y/N?”

I gasped and gaped at him for a few seconds, millions of questions running through my mind. Who was he? Who sent him? How did he know? What did he want? But as he started looking smug again, I quickly jumped into action and threw the pillow at him, dashing for the door. I successfully flung it open and as I went to run away, a strong arm wrapped around my middle and yanked me back inside the house. I was pressed up against a hard chest and before I could scream, a foul-smelling handkerchief was pressed against my nose and mouth, the man forcing me to inhale it. I tried to wriggle out of his firm grip, but it was useless as suddenly the world started spinning around me, darkness wrapping around my mind before my body went numb, kidnapped by a dreamless sleep.

The first thing that bothered me was the overwhelming smell of cologne. It reeked of men in here as I blinked my eyes open, only to jump up from my sprawled-out position in the unknown bed. The room rocked from left to right violently and for a second I thought my head was spinning, but then I looked out the small circle window, eyes widening when a huge wave crashed against it. I whipped my head around, a horrible realization dawning up on me. I was in a room on a ship! My heart started thumping wildly as I jumped off the bed and stared with my mouth open at the two opened briefcases on the floor, filled with my belongings. Blank canvas and different colored acrylics were scattered around on the floor, and I looked down at my body, realizing that I was wearing my long black coat. That man! He kidnapped me! I wanted to throw something against the wall as I started pacing up and down in the room, realizing that whoever he was, his intentions couldn’t be pure. If we were still close to the shore, I could jump off the ship, and swim back to the beach. But if we were out in the open sea…I was doomed. Was he really here to take me back to my mother? I groaned as I ran my fingers through my hair, glancing at the door. Could it be unlocked? He wouldn’t be so clumsy to leave the door open, right? I hoped he was, because then I could try and escape. I took a deep breath and decided to try my luck as I walked up to the door and grabbed the doorknob. I counted to five before turning it and pushing the door open, making it horribly creak open. I grimaced and hoped nobody was in the corridor to hear it as I realized nobody stood in front of the door. My little moment of happiness was soon crushed as I went to take off towards the right but crashed into a firm chest, a gasp leaving my lips as I recoiled from the body. The sight of the same man who kidnapped me brought little comfort as he raised his eyebrows at me, hands placed on his hips, an almost scolding look on his face. I sighed and knew there wasn’t much I could do now, and as if he read my mind, he took a step towards me, making me take a step backwards.

“Escaping already, princess?” He asked with a chuckle, “I heard you’re good at that.”

My mother would’ve had a fit if she saw me rolling my eyes at the man. He took another step forward and I took another one backwards, back inside the room, “I don’t know who told you that I’m a princess, but they were wrong.”

The man’s face morphed into a fake pout, “I wonder how you made enough money in three years to buy that cottage then.”

“Sold the goods I owned.” My lie was too quick and simple. Nobody would believe it. He took another step towards me, making me back further inside the room.

“Sure you did, princess.” He scoffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “There’s no use to lying, I can smell a princess from miles away when I see one.”

“Disgusting.” I scrunched my nose, making the man’s eyes widen.

“Not like that!” He defended himself quickly before he sighed, “You know…there’s a large sum promised to the one who brings you back to your kingdom.”

I gulped and took another step back when the man proceeded to walk closer, “I figured I should try my luck and try and find you. It was a lot easier than I expected, I bet your mother misses you like crazy.”

“Well, I don’t miss her.” I snapped and jumped backwards when the man reached out for me, “And I don’t want to return, so I demand you free me. I can still pay you lots of pennies and even gold—”

“Ah, ah.” The man smirked and I stumbled onto the bed when he took another step, too close for my liking, “I want the royal gold, not second hand one.”

“It wouldn’t be second hand!” My voice rose a few octaves, outraged by his assumption, “What do you take me for?!”

“A spoiled princess who thought she could get away until the end of times by hiding away in a painfully small village, way too close to her own kingdom.” I opened my mouth and was quickly left speechless as the man leaned down; head too close to mine for comfort. I tensed and leaned my head back a bit, looking up into his eyes. There was a playful twinkle in them and he licked his lips, chuckling, “I must admit, you look nothing like you were described.”

I gasped in offence, leaning back into the man’s face as I glared at him, “You are one to talk you—ogre!”

Indeed, I admit my insult was weak and didn’t even make sense. The worst thing was the shrill, high-pitched, almost crazy sounding laughter which left the man’s mouth, head thrown back as he started hysterically laughing. My cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest, averting my eyes as the man started to calm down as he wiped away tears from the corner of his eyes, eyes falling on my face. I knew he could read the embarrassment on my face; it was futile to try and hide it now, “That’s the funniest thing anyone has ever called me.”

I huffed and refused to look at him, that is until I felt his soft hands wrap around my wrists. His hands felt cold as I glanced down at them and then back into his eyes. He had amusement still written all over his face, lips pulled up into a grin. I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what he was about to do.

“You truly are a princess, princess.” He chuckled, his hands moving mine away from my chest, “You can’t even curse me out normally.”

“Oh, I can.” I smirked at him, making him raise an eyebrow, “I just choose not to, my genius is above that.”

“What a well-educated and well-mannered princess.” The man whispered and I gulped as I got lost in his warm brown eyes. His hands didn’t feel too cold anymore, however I felt something foreign against the skin of my wrist, something harsh. By the time I looked down my right wrist was yanked towards the headboard of the bed by a rope around it.

“What are you doing?!” I exclaimed as I tried to free my other wrist from his grasp, but he was quick as he overpowered me and pulled my wrist next to my other one, the rope already binding them together. My mouth fell open as I tried to free myself, moving as much as I could so that he wouldn’t tie me against the bed, but it did nothing as the man made an intricate knot and huffed as if it was the hardest mission of his life to tie me up, “You—you monster!”

The man stood back with his hands on his hips, looking very unimpressed. He squinted his eyes at me and then smiled fakely, “I’m not a monster nor an ogre, princess, I’m a pirate.”

“That’s even worse.” I sighed out as I moved my wrists, checking to see if there were any chances I could free myself. The man chuckled and stepped back, looking down at my belongings.

“You’ll have to clean up this mess at one point, I hate it when a place gets messy—”

“You do it, then.” I cut him off with a glare, tugging on the rope to no avail.

“I’m not your servant, princess.”

“Stop calling me princess.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowed as a grin stretched onto his lips, “I have a name, you know.”

“And so do I, princess, but I don’t hear you calling me that.” I groaned as I threw my head back, wondering whether he was doing this on purpose. Trying to annoy me.

“Because I don’t know your name, pirate, that’s why.” For a second the man looked surprised and then he scoffed, acting as if he hadn’t forgotten he never told me his name.

“It’s Wooyoung.” The man, Wooyoung, said and I looked at him, his name oddly familiar. Perhaps I have met someone with the same name before.

“Thank you, pirate, now I’ll know exactly who the royal guard will have to catch..” Wooyoung suddenly became serious as he threw an unimpressed glare my way, before wordlessly walking away. I stared at him wide eyed as he left the room, grabbing the doorknob as he stopped in the doorway and glanced back. Was he about to leave me alone? Tied against the bed?!

“What are you doing?! Where are you going?!” But Wooyoung didn’t answer as he smirked and closed the door, which creaked very loudly once again, and then walked away while whistling loudly, leaving me annoyed and frustrated as I tried to free myself form the bounds, but the rope burned my skin the more I tried. I stopped and groaned loudly, kicking my feet, making a mess of the blanket which was underneath me. This couldn’t get worse, right?

Two days of pure anguish passed by way too slowly, my arms sore and wrists burning from being bound to the bed for so long. No matter how much I asked Wooyoung to release me at least when I was eating, he would act like he was thinking about the idea, and then he’d smirk and draw out a no, then walk out of the room and leave me on my own, struggling to even grab the fork to eat my meal. The food was rather good, but I would never tell Wooyoung; I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I appreciated at least one thing he did for me, which was as simple as bringing me food. In order to keep me alive, because eating is a necessity every human has. Even a princess. But to make matters worse, he’d leave the door slightly ajar, taunting me even more by how I couldn’t get to it. He made me want to conjure up all the swear words I knew and hurl them at him, curse him out like a sailor as if there was no tomorrow. Wooyoung was a very frustrating person. He would come and try and have a civil conversation with me, genuinely curious about the way I lived on my own for three years, and then suddenly, like a switch was flipped inside of him, he’d start grinning like a Cheshire cat, and the teasing that followed was relentless and sometimes even offensive. He loved pointing out the fact that I was a princess, and how I had everything always handed to me, acting as if I didn’t live on my own for three years without anyone’s acknowledgement of my true identity. He loved to blabber on about whatever he was supposed to do on deck, something about adjusting the sails accordingly to Jongho’s instructions, whoever that was. And then, as any regular man, he loved to show off his skills and talents. Yesterday while struggling to eat my dinner, he randomly pulled out his sword from his sheathe and took a step back in order to be able to show off his swordplay, shouting at nothing and stabbing the air as if his enemy stood there. I couldn’t help but gape at him, rice almost falling out of my mouth, which was very not princess like, until Wooyoung looked at me with the proudest expression on his face, making me burst out laughing. It was loud and so very unlike the way I would usually laugh, the feeling freeing, the shrillness of my squeals foreign even to myself. In my chaotic laughing fit I even managed to almost choke on the unchewed food in my mouth. Realizing what I was doing, I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and tried to quiet down, but one look at Wooyoung’s face made me burst out in laughter once again, tummy aching, as he looked at me with utmost confusion, eyebrows furrowed, and one hand on his hip as his other held the sword.

“Why are you laughing?” He had genuinely sounded offended, and I hiccupped as I forced myself to gulp down the food.

“Because—” I had to take a deep breath before continuing, “what are you doing, Wooyoung? Is this what pirates do? Fling their swords around in the air at nothing?”

“I’m not flinging my sword at nothing!” Aggravation filled his voice as he stared at me wide eyed, “I’m—I’m practicing this new technique San showed me.”

He didn’t sound very convinced, and I raised an eyebrow as I looked at him amused, “Is that it? Are you sure you aren’t trying to impress the princess?”

“As if!” Wooyoung scoffed appalled, and placed his sword back in its sheathe, “That’s least of my concerns.”

I grinned as I tried to lift the fork to my mouth to eat some more, “Yeah, well, I grew up around Navy soldiers, pirate, a weapon doesn’t impresses me anymore.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress you.” Wooyoung quickly defended himself, raising his chin high, the front strands of his hair falling back. His hair was relatively long, it framed over his face. I hated to admit it, but it looked really good. It suited him. I didn’t realize I had started staring until Wooyoung’s eyes snapped onto me, quirking an eyebrow as a smirk slowly etched onto his lips. I sighed loudly before averting my eyes, pretending that I wasn’t openly admiring him, just staring at him in disdain. I ignored the flush of my cheeks, knowing well that if I acknowledged it, then I would become embarrassed and blush even more. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could make me blush. I dug around in my food, hissing when the rope cut into the skin of my wrist, unable to grab the last pieces of my rice, slowly becoming frustrated. I didn’t notice Wooyoung creeping closer, smirk still present on his face, clearly enjoying my struggle. I really hated being tied up. There was no logic behind it. Where would I run? Up on deck and then do what? Jump into the sea? I wasn’t suicidal, but it seems like Wooyoung didn’t want to understand that I had no intentions of running away. Because I had nowhere to run to. I hadn’t accepted my fate yet; I wasn’t going back to my Kingdom and to my castle, to my mother, to be locked up for an eternity while I wait for my long-lost betrothed. I didn’t want to rule. I didn’t even want to see my mother. I had asked Wooyoung to release me twice already, but he just shook his head and walked off whistling, a pleased look on his irritating face, annoying me like there was no tomorrow. I groaned quietly when I realized I wouldn’t be able to eat the last bite of my dinner, and clumsily threw the fork onto the plate, creating a loud clattering sound. I wonder how these porcelain silverware don’t break on a, sometimes, violently rocking ship. I raised my head with a loud sigh and my eyes widened when I found Wooyoung barely inches away from my face. He raised his eyebrows as I flinched back, putting distance between our faces, his breath fanned over my cheeks. I did not want him that close to myself. When he wouldn’t move away, I glared and placed the plate on the bed next to me, balling up my hands into fists, ready to fight if he tried anything. I didn’t know him and despite him looking harmless he was still a man, and a pirate. All the tales I have heard about them were horrible, and suddenly I felt unsettled as all emotion disappeared from Wooyoung’s face and he looked all over my face, as if he was trying to memorize my features. I gulped, suddenly flustered, my own eyes running over his handsome face. I always thought pirates would be ugly and old. Nobody has ever told tales of young and handsome pirates who returned princesses to their kingdoms. Wasn’t there a price on their heads? What horrible things has Wooyoung done? Suddenly, Wooyoung tsked, and I watched as his eyebrows furrowed.

“I swear,” He mumbled, rubbing his chin, leaning uncomfortably close, “I feel like I have seen you before.”

My heart somersaulted in my chest for an unknown reason, and my eyes briefly glanced at his plush lips, before I looked back into his eyes. I hoped he hadn’t seen my slip up, because I had a feeling he would definitely mock me for it later. Wooyoung, however, didn’t look familiar to me. I was positive I have never seen him before; his name, on the other hand, sounded peculiarly familiar.

“Of course, you have seen me before, idiot.” I snapped, trying to ignore the rapid beats of my heart, “I’m a princess. There’s portraits of me, you know?”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, and finally, stepped back, but still not far enough. Our knees were touching as I sat by the edge of the bed, looking up at him as he huffed loudly, “I’m not talking about the portraits, silly.”

“Are you saying we have seen each other in person before, then?” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this peculiar thought of his. Where and how could we have seen each other before? It’s not like a pirate was often invited to join the socialite parties organized by the Queen herself. Unless Wooyoung wasn’t a pirate all his life. That thought made me gasp silently, and I allowed myself to look all over him again, eyes taking in his attire. Everything about his clothes screamed expensive and they looked fairly new. Not a speck of dust dirtied his outfit, and everything else looked exactly just like that on him, perfect. His buttons were all done, shirt tucked carefully inside his pants, and even the belt seemed to hang around his hips at a perfect angle. His hair, too, was styled and it seemed that he gelled it back in order to keep it out of his eyes. No dirt was smeared on his face nor clothes, and his stance seemed strong, shoulders pulled back, back painfully straight. I haven’t seen a pirate before, but this certainly wasn’t the way they looked. No matter how gentleman like they were.

“I doubt a princess like you roams places like the ones I do, so no, that’s impossible.” Wooyoung retorted, giving me a look which made it obvious that he thought I was dumb. My jaw clenched at his very subtle jab, but I just smiled at him sweetly, too sweetly.

“Unless you weren’t a pirate your whole life, Wooyoung, we might have crossed paths before then.” My sentence should’ve been laughed at, the thought quite out of place and nonsensical. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to be a pirate willingly. But the way Wooyoung’s body seemed to suddenly tense and eyebrows furrow was a reaction I did not expect. My eyes narrowed at him as he suddenly cleared his throat and stepped back, snatching the plate off the bed, “Do I happen to be right?”

Wooyoung didn’t answer straight away, just threw a glare my way before he grabbed the handle of his sword tightly. I eyed it as he scoffed, trying to play off the tense air around him, “A princess like you knows nothing, Y/N, stop being silly and shut up.”

“And a pirate like you wouldn’t be so defensive all of a sudden if I wasn’t right—”

“Ah, really, now.” Wooyoung cut me off with a smirk on his lips, again, leaning down to be eye level with me, “You just had to get mouthy when I was starting to debate whether to release you or not.”

My eyes widened as Wooyoung chuckled and ran for the door, just as my mouth opened, “Wooyoung! You nasty pirate, release me, right now!”

He was out the door before I could stop screaming at him, but he had the audacity to poke his head back inside with an amused look on his face, “You can’t command me around, I’m not one of your servants.”

“Yet you bring me everything I need, like a servant.” I fired back at it, a grin pulling onto my lips, the sudden anger disappearing for a few seconds, until Wooyoung slammed the door shut behind him without saying anything else. I let out a frustrated scream and trashed my legs around, until I registered the pain coming from my wrists, realizing I was straining the rope against the already damaged skin. My mother would kill me for turning up bruised after three years of not seeing me.

And I wished Wooyoung’s teasing stopped there, but it didn’t. The following day each time he came inside the room, he would somehow manage to pretend that he was going to release me, only to run away cackling as I just fell back against the hard mattress, biting my lip and blinking away the frustrated tears which threatened to fall. I did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. It wasn’t worth it. In four more days I would be released, perhaps I could survive that much. Hopefully the rope wouldn’t create an actual wound against my fragile skin. It was somewhere around late evening, the light coming through the small window barely strong enough to light up the room I was held in. I figured it was Wooyoung’s room when he came to retrieve fresh clothes this morning, of course mocking me for not having escaped yet. Perhaps if the bounds weren’t so tight I might’ve done just that. I was sitting on the bed, back pressed against the wooden wall, sighing as I played with the pencil in my hand. I somehow convinced Wooyoung to hand me my sketchbook and a pencil, desperate to do something since I couldn’t sleep and stare out the small window all day long. But the light wasn’t enough anymore for me to see the lines I was creating, and my wrist was aching from drawing all day long. Suddenly, the door was slammed open and I jumped, tensing as I thought it was someone other than Wooyoung, but it was him. He was holding a lantern in his hand as he strutted inside while whistling, looking awfully happy and smug, as he cast me a glance from the corner of his eyes. I scoffed and stared up at the ceiling, refusing to look at him after he pretended to cut the ropes while I was eating lunch today. I did not appreciate his humorless jokes. Especially since he was mocking me with them.

“Enjoying the sunset, princess?” Hearing the title roll of his tongue so smoothly only irritated me furthermore, and I refused to answer as he placed the lantern on the desk. He brought that in just for me, actually. But I’d rather sit in darkness than be tied up. Wooyoung paused and placed his hands on his hips, looking at me expectantly.

“Not in the mood to talk? That’s new, you always have something to say.” I had to steel myself from rolling my eyes at him as he jutted his lips out in a disgusting pout. How was this man a pirate? Even if he were to threaten me with taking my life, I wouldn’t be able to take him seriously anymore.

“I see you’ve been drawing today.” He muttered, more to himself, as he approached the bed. He leaned one knee against the hard mattress and leaned forward, grabbing my sketchbook. I wanted to swat his hand away, but I didn’t react as I kept ignoring him. Perhaps he’d get bored of teasing me if I didn’t react any way and he’d go away.

“Oh,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows rose as he glanced at me, “have you seen our ship before?”

We made eye contact but I didn’t answer him as Wooyoung raised his eyebrows even more, waiting for my answer. But I remained unresponsive and he rolled his eyes, “Fine, don’t talk then. The drawing looks eerily similar to our ship, princess. That’s why I asked.”

He was quite dumb if he thought a princess like myself has seen a pirate ship before, let alone this one. Wooyoung dropped the sketchbook into my lap, lips pulled in a straight line as he remained leaning close to me.

“I was in a good mood before I came to visit you, what a pity.” Wooyoung sighed dramatically, eyebrows furrowing and mocking my voice suddenly, “I really thought of releasing you, but—your attitude needs some fixing so I’m giving you a lesson by not setting you free, understand?”

That was the last straw. The tone of his voice, the mocking and malice laced into it made my blood boil as my head whipped forward, face scrunched into a scowl. Before Wooyoung could even react, his proximity allowed for my left hand to smack against his cheek. Despite it being the back of my hand, the slap was strong and loud as Wooyoung jumped back with a loud cry, holding his reddening cheek. His eyes were rounded as he stared at me in shock, and I was breathing hard, glaring at him furiously. Nobody moved or said anything for a few seconds, and suddenly I heard hurried footsteps barreling down the hallway, headed our way. Thanks to Wooyoung leaving the door open, I watched as two men tumbled inside the room, eyes wide and hands on the handle of their swords as they looked around, assessing the situation. They both were tall, but the one on the left was taller, and his black hair was wavy. The man next to him had sharper features and his long hair was pulled into a half ponytail, his corset showing off his delicate curves. My mouth slightly dropped open at the sight, hardly believing that these two handsome men were pirates. But suddenly, the taller one looked at Wooyoung and burst out into loud laughter as Wooyoung whined with a childlike frown.

“Seonghwa!” He exclaimed like a little kid, making me look at him with wide eyes. Why did Wooyoung sound like he was about to tell on me to his mother?

“What are you two—” The taller man’s laughter boomed around us, it brought a smile on my own face, and Seonghwa, the ethereal looking man, seemed to throw him a subtle glare as he had to raise his voice in order to be heard. But Wooyoung left him no chance to speak.

“The princess whacked me—”

“You keep teasing me—”

“Because you’re entitled—”

“I’ve been living on my own for three years, for Heaven’s sake, how am I entitled—”

“You’re still a princess and you keep commanding me around—”

“So you keep mocking me that you’ll release me only to walk away?!” Wooyoung and I were screaming over each other at this point, silencing the taller man’s laughter too, and making Seonghwa look at us puzzled, “It hurts! My wrists are sore and I can’t feel my arms, Wooyoung!”

“Well—well—” Wooyoung went to scream back something, but all he did was open and close his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he started rubbing his cheek. The tall man snorted loudly, but one look from Seonghwa quickly silenced him. He pinched the bridge of his nose before he cast me a glance, eyes softening for a second, only to turn into a glare as he looked back at Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung,” He started, voice steady and soft, “Why is the princess tied up?”

My head whipped back to Wooyoung as I waited for his answer, glare burning into his forehead as Wooyoung seemed to be avoiding looking at me. He gulped, but said nothing. The taller man had to bite his lower lip as his body started trembling, on the verge of another fit of laughter.

“Yunho.” Seonghwa snapped, “Stop it.”

“Sorry.” The man mumbled, barely, as he rubbed his stomach and jaw, eyebrows furrowing in a funny way.

“Wooyoung, I asked you a question.” Seonghwa said with a sigh and Wooyoung suddenly crossed his arms, looking like a child.

“I tied her up, because—” Wooyoung shrugged, licking his lips as he rolled his eyes, “I wanted to.”

“You bastard!” I snapped, glaring at him, making Yunho snicker until Seonghwa elbowed him in the stomach harshly.

“Untie her, now.” Seonghwa said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, looking at Wooyoung unimpressed. He looked like a parent who was scolding their mischievous child. Definitely didn’t fit the image I had of pirates in my head. But perhaps Seonghwa was a leaderlike figure, because Wooyoung grumbled quietly to himself, but grabbed a dagger from his boots, and looked at me with a glare. If it weren’t for already knowing Wooyoung, I perhaps would have been scared to have a pirate look at me like that with a weapon pointed my way, but all I could do was smirk at him. Wooyoung scoffed as he very slowly approached me, drawing out the action on purpose, taking his time in cutting the ropes as Seonghwa and Yunho watched. The later more amused as he kept giggling, making Seonghwa sigh until he had enough and pushed Yunho outside. I let out a sigh of contentment when the ropes were finally gone from my skin and stared at my bruised skin, hissing as I touched it. This would certain require some time to heal and it also wouldn’t be as painless as I had hoped, but at least I was free. Wooyoung said nothing as he stormed off, punching Yunho’s shoulder in the process when he walked past him, making the taller man burst out into laughter again as he followed after his fellow mate.

“I’m sorry for the discomfort caused, princess, but I had no idea Wooyoung was treating you like that.” Seonghwa’s voice was oddly soft and friendly as he stepped further inside, grabbing the rope and gathering it up in his hands. His words made it sound like Wooyoung was doing something very horrible to me and I had the sudden urge to clarify the situation.

“He didn’t hurt me,” I spoke up, looking at Seonghwa warily as he shook his head slightly, “and he fed me regularly, it’s just that—I was rather frustrated by his constant teasing. Hence why I reacted the way I did, I know it wasn’t particularly nice.”

Seonghwa suddenly chuckled and looked at me with an amused twinkle in his eyes, “You’re rather protective of your kidnapper and captor’s actions, princess.”

“I am not!” My response was too quick, it made Seonghwa chuckle. I looked away embarrassed, and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Well, then…” He cleared his throat and stepped back, pocketing the rope, “You’re free to do whatever you want while you’re on the ship, except jump into the water. I can assure you that we will not save you by sacrificing one of our own. Your mother wants you back safe and sound, princess, we’re not here to harm you, we’re here to collect the copious amount of payment.”

“You mean Wooyoung is? Since he was the one to find me…” My voice got small as Seonghwa hummed and headed towards the door.

“Indeed, Wooyoung is, but he’s nice enough to share it with his brothers.” Seonghwa grabbed the doorknob as he stepped outside, “I wish you a pleasant evening, princess.”

“You too, pirate.” I bowed my head as Seonghwa bowed his, and then he closed the door behind himself. I quickly jumped out of bed and stretched my legs and back, moaning at the pleasant feeling of my bones finally popping, and my muscles pulling. Wooyoung could’ve avoided all of this ruckus if he were nicer.

I couldn’t have been more excited to finally breathe in fresh air, so, after breakfast I was already up on my feet and changing into a baby blue silk dress, one of my favorites’, which I had brought with myself from the castle. It screamed richness as the collar was decorated with royal opal stones and it missed its matching headpiece, my tiara. I didn’t have the heart to bring that with myself when I left, scared that it would be a giveaway of my origins. After all, the royal opal was a significant gemstone of the Oh family and of the Sun Rise Kingdom. Seonghwa had been kind enough to show me where the washroom was, a small chamber with a barrel inside, which served as a bathtub; it was rather horrifying, until I reminded myself that I was currently on a pirate ship. I couldn’t wrap my mind around having to live like this. Wooyoung, for once, seemed to be avoiding me as he brought me breakfast and left wordlessly or without even glancing my way. I was ready to put our little shenanigans past us and greet him a good morning, but he barely stepped inside and placed the tray of food on the end of the bed before he was already gone, shutting the door after himself roughly. If it wasn’t for Seonghwa coming to check up on me thirty minutes later, I perhaps would’ve burst out crying from having to sit all dirty and coped up in this annoying pirate’s room, which still smelled strongly of cologne. This was also peculiar, because when I started walking down the corridors, all kinds of smells invaded my nose, making me feel nauseous. For a pirate, Wooyoung oddly smelled like a prince. Gripping the skirt of my dress, I slightly lifted it so that I could climb up the stairs, headed towards the blinding sunlight. The salty air felt refreshing as I arrived onto the deck, the wind slightly stronger than it usually would be on the beach back in the village I lived at. The sky was crystal clear, no clouds decorating it, and the vast sea was a beautiful deep blue, glistening and foaming as the ship sailed smoothly. I had approached the railing and looked over it, marveling at the beauty around myself, never having seen such sight before. When I escaped from my kingdom I was forced to hide under the deck the whole ride, I didn’t have the opportunity to look at the sea. There was something very calming and beautiful about it, I loved sitting on the beach in the evenings and watching the sunset. Suddenly, my heart clenched when I realized I would no longer be able to do that, the city where the royal Oh family resided was a four-hour long carriage ride away from the beach, my mother would never allow me to travel back and forth.

“Careful, you might fall over.” A very deep voice suddenly spoke up next to me and I was startled as I stepped back from the railing, looking to my right. A friendly looking man stood next to me; his lips pulled into a small smile. His angelic features didn’t match his low voice at all. I smiled at him and bowed my head slightly.

“Seonghwa told me you wouldn’t rescue me if that happened.” I said with a chuckle and the man’s eyebrows furrowed.

“That is quite incorrect, we don’t leave one of our own behind.” The man said with conviction and glanced past me, eyes slightly narrowing. I followed his gaze and my eyes settled on Seonghwa, who was gripping the wheel and holding a binocular to his eye as he gazed out towards horizon.

“Perhaps he was trying to scare me, then.” I chuckled and looked back at Yeosang, offering him my hand, “My name is Y/N.”

“My name is Yeosang.” He took my hand, and to my surprise, swiftly pressed a kiss against it, slightly curtsying, “Pleasure to meet you, Princess Y/N.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I pulled my hand back, having not been treated with such respect in the past three years. The feeling was foreign, yet it felt right. I didn’t miss it, but for the first time I felt like someone on this ship truly respected me. Unlike with Wooyoung, I could see myself becoming fond of Yeosang. And then, suddenly, there was a quiet squeak behind him, and he slightly turned his head, a fond smile appearing on Yeosang’s lips as he looked down. My eyebrows furrowed, and I tried to look over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. Then his lips moved, but his voice was low and the crashing of waves completely overrode his words. I stood watching curiously as Yeosang nodded, and suddenly, a head popped out from behind his shoulder. My eyes instantly widened as I looked at the young girl, her sharp eyes wide with wonder and admiration as her eyes quickly stopped on my dress.

“This is Hana.” Yeosang’s hand suddenly gripped the girl’s, their fingers intertwined. She looked so small next to him, she was smaller than even myself, and I wasn’t a very tall woman, “She’s shy, but she wanted me to tell you that she adores your dress.”

My lips pulled up into a wide smile as I beamed at her, gripping the fabric of my dress, “Thank you, Hana! It is my favorite dress, actually.”

“You’re pretty too, Princess.” Hana’s voice was velvety and quiet, but I heard her. I bowed my head and her eyes widened as she quickly bowed back, seemingly not knowing how to react. She was wearing clothes like the rest of the pirates, albeit the shirt seemed too big for her frame, and a belt held the pants against her narrow hips. She looked a bit malnourished, but her cheeks were full of color despite her pale complexion.

“Thank you, Hana, you’re very lovely yourself.” Hana’s lips pulled up into a huge smile and her head turned quickly as she beamed up at Yeosang. The man’s attention seemed to be on her only, his ears-tinged red, as he nodded at Hana, a proud glint in his eyes. Hana’s cheeks were pink and she hid herself behind Yeosang, completely disappearing. It was endearing watching the two, watching how Yeosang’s built frame offered the girl protection, shielding her from unwanted eyes and any harm.

“She’s still learning how to accept compliments.” Yeosang explained and I nodded, not wanting to probe for a reason, nevertheless still curious. Yeosang placed his hands in his pockets and slightly bowed his head, “We’ll be on our way, Princess, we’re quite busy today. Taeri and I have collected some new herbs, and I’m excited to make a new tea I have learned not so long ago.”

Taeri. So there was one more woman on this ship besides Hana. It felt nice knowing that I wasn’t the only female surrounded by slimy pirates, although they proved to be quite the opposite of slimy. Yeosang’s comment caught my attention, however, people who knew how to use herbs to make teas were usually healers, “Excuse me, Yeosang, do you happen to be a healer?”

“I’m a doctor, actually.” He corrected and I let out a sigh of relief before I slightly pulled the sleeve of my dress up on my left arm. Yeosang’s eyes fell onto my wrist, eyebrows furrowing when he saw the red skin and dark bruises, “That isn’t good. It hurts, right?”

I nodded wordlessly and noticed Hana just barely poking her head over Yeosang’s shoulder, standing on her tip toes, but she quickly cringed away when she saw the bruises. They didn’t even look that bad, but perhaps she had a reason why she reacted that way.

“I will stop by after lunch with some ointment and a tea, you’re staying in Wooyoung’s room, right?” Yeosang asked with a smile and I nodded with a long sigh, making Yeosang chuckle, “Well, then you’re never bored.”

“I wish I was.” I muttered as Yeosang and Hana passed by me, Hana slightly waving at me before hiding her face in Yeosang’s back. I chuckled and smiled after them, the scent of freesias’ strong as they passed by. I watched the two as they disappeared below deck, Hana bouncing off the stairs more freely when it was just the two of them. I couldn’t help but feel happy that nice people were present on this ship and that I felt like I was welcomed here. As I looked around, I noticed Seonghwa had abandoned his post and was leaning against the railing of the quarterdeck, nodding his head in acknowledgment as we made eye contact. Another man had taken his place at the wheel, significantly shorter than Seonghwa, and with eyes sharper, and an aura which screamed dominance. His hair was blonde and the back strands had reached his shoulders, a black cloth was wrapped around tightly over his shirt on his right bicep. It didn’t take long to realize he was the Captain. I sighed, and turned around, realizing that I still didn’t have much to do. I was free, but still captive in some way and since I was a princess on a pirate ship, I really couldn’t do anything else than stay in Wooyoung’s room all day long and come up on deck for some fresh air from time to time. And perhaps that was the smartest choice, because as I decided to head downstairs, I caught the eyes of some older looking pirates, which looked just like I had imagined them. They were leaning against some barrels, sharpening their knives and daggers as their eyes followed every movement of mine. I gulped and hugged myself around my middle as I straightened my back; a princess never shows weakness. The pirates chuckled, seemingly amused by my actions, and I held my chin higher as I went to take off, only for my upper arm to be gripped and slightly pulled back. The stench hit me first, before I could even turn around, and I yelped once I came face to face with a very old pirate who looked like, and smelled like, he hadn’t had a bath in years. One of his eye was fully white and his beard awfully outgrown, clothes ragged, and a stain on his cheek which I could only hope was some sort of oil.

“Royal flesh on the ship—” The pirate spat on the floor and I gasped, taking a step back but his grip on me didn’t allow for me to go too far, “Flaunting ye wealth while we rot away. Shark food is what ye are, rat. I might push ye over—”

“Easy, mate,” I never heard him approaching us, let alone unsheathing his sword, but it was pressing against the old pirate’s Adam’s Apple in a blink, “Don’t play with something that isn’t yours. Release her, now.”

“Claimed her as yers, eh?” The old pirate grinned sickly and a few of his teeth were missing, eyes twinkling as he looked Wooyoung in the eyes. I tugged on my arm, but the man’s grip wasn’t easing up just yet.

“The Princess is mine, mate, and I don’t like it when someone touches what’s mine.” Wooyoung’s voice dropped dangerously low and my eyes widened as I looked at him, his glare on the man menacing. The old pirate just laughed, a throaty and hoarse sound, before suddenly his grip was gone as Wooyoung’s sword was swiftly raised in the air, coming down towards the man’s wrist. The old pirate yelled and jumped backwards, clutching his unharmed wrist to his chest, eyes crazed and wide as he stared at Wooyoung, “Go tell your old little friends that if anyone touches the Princess their hands won’t be no more. Both hands.”

“The Captain will hear about this—”

“And he’ll do nothing about it,” Wooyoung smirked smugly as he pressed the sword against the wooden floor, leaning his weight against it as his hands rested on top of the handle, “I’m sharing the prize with him, do you think he won’t side with me?”

“Royal scum.” The old pirate spat and wobbled off, his comment making Wooyoung laugh as he placed his sword back onto its sheathe. I watched as the old man joined the pirates who had been previously eyeing me hungrily and spoke furiously to them, probably recounting what happened just seconds ago. Wooyoung looked at me for the first time today, and I couldn’t help but let out a shuddered breath. I wasn’t so safe on this ship, after all, and not all pirates were like Wooyoung. Or like Seonghwa, Yunho, and Yeosang. I subconsciously rubbed my wrist, wincing at the pain; I had forgotten they were bruised. Wooyoung’s eyes followed my actions and he gulped when I showed signs of pain, but didn’t speak up.

“Thank you for that.” I said quietly, suddenly feeling shy as I looked away. Wooyoung hummed and rubbed the back of his head, patting his sleeveless tank top down. His clothes seemed to be fresh once again. How did a pirate constantly wear a new set of clothes, wardrobe never seeming to empty out? Did they even have that much money? Why did the pirate say royal scum? Did he refer to me? Then why did he say it to Wooyoung? My eyebrows furrowed as I looked back at Wooyoung, who seemed rather modest despite helping me out. I thought he’d be smugger about it.

“No need to thank me, it’s the least I could do.” He shrugged and cleared his throat, “Uh, you’re—you’re not mine, I just had to make sure that man wouldn’t bother you anymore. Pirates tend to be…more possessive of what’s theirs so, uhm, by saying you’re mine I made it clear that if he touched you he’d be facing punishment.”

I could’ve sworn Wooyoung was blushing, but he turned his head around, pretending to be looking for someone as his eyes searched the deck. I appreciated his explanation, but for some weird reason I didn’t find it infuriating that he pretended to claim me. By no means was I an object to be claimed, but the way he said it…it felt different. Like it meant more than just a simple claim. Before my thoughts could steal me away from reality, a man called out for Wooyoung.

“Stop flirting with the Princess and bring your ass over here!” It was Yunho, and he was standing next to a man I hadn’t met yet, but he was glaring at the arm Yunho had slung over his shoulders before he went and brushed it off, “Jongho is upset again, you overslept and didn’t do your duties.”

Wooyoung groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose as he glanced back at me, “Sorry, princess, but I have to tend to my real duties now.”

I couldn’t help but allow a smirk to sneak onto my lips, “So, you do admit that the other day you were just trying to impress me if whatever you’re about to do is your real purpose on this ship.”

“Yeah, I—what?!” Wooyoung exclaimed appalled and his eyebrows furrowed, “I wasn’t trying to impress you, stop making things seem like something they aren’t!”

“But you just almost confessed to it.” I smiled sneakily and Wooyoung groaned.

“Go have a beauty sleep, princess, you look like you need one.” I gasped, but before I could throw an insult back at Wooyoung, he ran off to Yunho and Jongho, I assume, getting tackled into a headlock by the man I wasn’t familiar with yet. I held my chin high and turned around, storming down the stairs and towards Wooyoung’s room, knowing that he stored a mirror in one of his drawers, eager to see whatever he was talking about. There was no way I didn’t look spectacular today, I made sure there were no signs that I barely got a wink of sleep since I had gotten onto the ship. Outrageous. Wooyoung was so annoying.

Another day had gone by fast without much happening on the ship. Wooyoung was busy with that Jongho pirate, apparently he had been slacking off lately and the Captain had summoned him this morning, asking for an explanation. When Wooyoung didn’t show up with breakfast, I thought about wandering around in search for the kitchen, but Seonghwa beat me to it as he brought me breakfast and let me know that I might be seeing less of Wooyoung the following days. I didn’t mind, in fact, I was grateful that he wouldn’t chew off my ears anymore; at least now I had a little bit of peace of mind before we reached my Kingdom and castle. It gave me time to figure out a plan which would help me escape my mother once again. I knew she’d hate me and probably exile me from the Kingdom, but it’s exactly what I wanted. To get rid of my royal duties as next in line to the throne. I didn’t want to rule in a place which felt like a prison, in a place which wasn’t complete without its King, and in a place where I would never be taken seriously. All of my mother’s advisors dislike me, and had always been against me inheriting the throne, always encouraging my mother to try for another baby in hopes of it being a boy so that he’d bear the crown. But my mother didn’t want another child as her labor was difficult with me and she almost lost her life in the process of giving birth. I was her only hope, and despite that, all I kept doing was disappoint her. I should’ve felt bad about it, but I stopped caring when she started becoming more and more demanding and pressuring. Perhaps if I could somehow convince her that I was back for good and intended on staying, that I have matured and grown to regret my decision, I would earn her trust again, after all I am her only child, then perhaps she’ll crown me and unknowingly fall into my trap. She’d willingly and legally hand over all the fortune which I would run away with later, once I have ruled for enough time to get everyone off my back. But for that…I need someone on my side, someone who would help me. But who would be that person? I didn’t know many people who would do that for me, let alone whom I trusted enough to tell the plan to. Perhaps…would a pirate be interested in playing along with me if I promised enough gold in return for their services?

That was a question I didn’t know the answer to, and I sighed as I glanced back up at the horizon, sky coated in dark shades of pink mixed with purple and a little bit of orange. The sun was setting, creating a beautiful landscape as the ship swayed gently side to side. A few clouds decorated the sky here and there, promising a storm free night. The breeze was gentle as I sat by the railing, feet pushed through the gaps and dangling off the side of the ship as I swayed my legs from time to time, trying to avoid numbness in them. My right hand held my sketchbook as I held a dark blue crayon in my left hand, drawing out the waves onto my drawing. A few more colored crayons sat carefully by my thigh as I made sure they wouldn’t roll away; my heart would break if I lost any colors. I couldn’t live without painting or drawing; it was the one thing I couldn’t leave behind alongside with my title.

The setting was peaceful, and I enjoyed the fresh air and solitude for as long as I could, no pirate in sight as the deck was empty. I thought they never left the deck unsupervised, but perhaps so far out in the sea there were no dangers of other people showing up. Or perhaps these pirates were just confident about their combat skills and they didn’t have to be on the lookout at all time. However, the girl sitting next to me was so quiet, that I completely forgot about her existence if it weren’t for her sneezing, making me jump. My eyes widened as I turned my head and looked at the petite girl, her cheeks rosy as she looked away embarrassed. She has been sitting by my side for the past hour, not saying a word, just watching my drawing. She looked curious as her wide eyes watched carefully each swipe of my hand, her fingers sometimes itching as she reached out, only to sit back and place her hands underneath her thighs. I didn’t know if she whether wanted to be acknowledged or not, so I remained silent, and allowed her the choice to speak up or remain silent. She seemed content in my presence, and it made me smile to myself as she gasped when I created ripples in the water on my sketchbook, leaning forward on her hands as she pocked her head closer.

“Are you feeling cold, Hana?” I asked as I stopped drawing, looking at the younger girl. She jumped and quickly leaned back; cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Her nose was red and she had started sniffing as she sneezed again. When Hana realized I wouldn’t continue drawing until she gave me an answer, she quickly shook her head no. I nodded, but decided to take off my shawl from around my shoulders, and hand it over to her. Hana eyed the piece of clothing curiously, reluctantly taking it, “You keep sneezing, wear it, so you don’t catch a flu.”

“Oh, Princess—” Her eyes widened as she bowed her head deeply, her hands clenched, “I really shouldn’t—”

“You most certainly should, Hana,” I chuckled and placed the shawl on her lap, “I insist. Besides, I’m sure Yeosang would be rather worried if you suddenly were to become sick.”

“I’d rather not have him worried about me again…” Hana whispered and quickly wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, the orange fabric complementing her skin tone. I hummed and went back to drawing, the late evening breeze was colder, and it made goosebumps erupt on my skin. I should follow my own advice, and head back to Wooyoung’s room soon, get ready for bed and dinner. It wouldn’t be long until he’d bring me dinner, perhaps I still had time to quickly wash up. I watched from the corner of my eyes as Hana followed each movement of my hands with her eyes, lips opened in awe, looking like she was trying to memorize each line I was drawing.

“Tell me, Hana,” I spoke up as I grabbed the orange crayon, “Do you happen to enjoy drawing?”

Her eyes widened and she nodded eagerly, her lips pulled into a wide smile, “I do, Princess! I have made a few sketches myself ever since Yeosang gifted me some canvas and pencils.”

“I actually prefer to paint, but I think the pirates would’ve been outraged if I brought my whole equipment up here.” I rolled my eyes and Hana chuckled, hiding her blush with the shawl.

“Some of them are actually really nice, and Taeri is very helpful and attentive—” Hana abruptly looked away, it looked like she was about to cry, “they take good care of you here, it’s weird. I bet you expected them to be barbarians, Princess, and yet sometimes these men act like little children.”

I laughed quietly and nodded, thoughts straying to Wooyoung. He definitely didn’t act like a pirate, his antics resembling that of a spoiled little child. Taeri I have met earlier today, when she came to Wooyoung’s room, asking if I needed anything or if Wooyoung was bothering me in any way. She had a very motherly aura as we conversed, and I was surprised to find out that she had been living on the ship for ten years now, a pirate herself. Before our conversation could stray to the reason why I ran away from home, Yunho came looking for her, boyish grin on his lips as Taeri told him she’d be joining him in a second. Apparently, they had to check out the supply room, making sure we had enough of everything until we reached land. As I went to close the door after Taeri and Yunho’s departure, I caught a glimpse of Yunho pressing his lips against Taeri’s neck, pushing her down the corner as they disappeared from sight. I closed the door with a shake of my head, wondering if Wooyoung had anyone like Taeri in his life. The thought was sudden and surprising, and before I could dwell more on it, I quickly shook my head and went to dig through my briefcases, searching for something which would keep me warm if I went up on the deck.

“They certainly left an impression on me,” I said with a chuckle, making Hana nod, “but I can’t help feel resignment towards them, especially Wooyoung. He’s the one who captured me, and he is the reason why I’ll be seeing my mother in just a few days—”

“But being a princess must be so nice, I can’t find a reason why I would run away if I was in your place, Princess.” Hana cut me off, words tumbling out of her mouth eagerly, as her eyebrows were furrowed. I hummed and looked off in the distance, eyes unfocused as my grip loosened on my sketchbook. Yes, perhaps, this is how outsiders think of a privileged life. They don’t really have a chance to find out about our hardships, and even then, are we allowed to whine and complain? Are we allowed to wallow in desperation when other people have it so much harder? When other people barely have anything, and are fighting to survive day to day, meanwhile I cry myself to sleep because my mother wouldn’t allow me to paint unless I have attended my etiquette class? As I turned to look at the girl next to me, I couldn’t help but wonder about what her life was like. Wonder what her biggest worries and fears were, anything which would take my head out of the gutter and ground me back to reality. Here I was, on the verge of throwing a fit about not wanting to return home, when the girl next to me seemed to jump at any loud sounds, seemed to become smaller when a man came into sight, seemed to hesitate every time she spoke up, seemed to have scars peeking out from underneath her long sleeves. She was pure and innocent yet the look in her eyes made her look older, tired, and horrified of the world around her, as if she’s seen horrors nobody else has. I didn’t have it in me to tell her the reason why I didn’t want to return home, it felt like I would be making fun of her, taunting her even, so, instead I dodged her question as best as I could.

“Please, call me just Y/N,” I smiled at her and watched as her cheeks turned pink, “I haven’t been a proper princess for three years, it doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, alright, I shall do that—” Hana seemed to struggle for a second until she ducked her head and whispered, “Y/N.”

I smiled fondly at her and nodded, looking down at my almost finished drawing. The sun had almost disappeared and the air has turned cold, making me shiver. I grabbed a purple crayon and quickly finished the sketch, bringing it up to my eyes, making sure it was finished. I could see Hana lean closer, wide eyes filled with curiosity as I turned towards her and handed her the sketchbook. She looked surprised, but eager as she took it from my hands, staring at the sketch in awe. Her small fingers delicately traced the same lines I had done minutes ago, eyebrows furrowed as she examined my technique.

“It’s for you, Hana, you can keep the drawing.” I found myself saying, taken aback when Hana looked at me with tearful eyes. She was smiling still, but she looked overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to do or say, taken aback by her reaction, so I settled for, “It’s a gift, so you can’t refuse it.”

It made Hana cry and my eyes widened as I panicked, thinking that I have said something wrong, but she quickly clutched the sketchbook to her chest, and smiled so widely her cheeks must have hurt, “Nobody has ever given me a gift so beautiful!”

I felt my heart warm at her words and I chuckled, leaning forward to wipe a tear off her cheek, “Don’t cry, Hana, your eyes will be puffy in the morning.”

She giggled and wiped her tears away quickly, bowing her head in thankfulness, “Thank you, Princess Y/N.”

“You said you only had pencils?” I raised my eyebrows as I grabbed the crayons from next to me. Hana nodded as she carefully ripped the page I have gifted to her out of the sketchbook before she handed it back to me. I took the sketchbook and grabbed her wrist, turning her palm, “Take the crayons too. The world would be so grim without colors, I’m sure your drawings will look even prettier with them.”

I placed the crayons in her palm and Hana gasped, gaping at me as I stood up and dusted off the skirt of my dress, bringing my arms around myself in order to try and warm up. Hana scrambled to her feet, and having noticed that I was feeling cold, she went to hand back the shawl, but I stopped her with a raise of my hand, “Keep it, I have plenty of shawls like that one.”

“Oh, Princess—” She brought a hand to her mouth as her lower lip trembled and I just chuckled, feeling slightly concerned. What has happened to this girl before that she was reacting in such way? I’ve never seen anyone so overwhelmed at the simple action such as receiving gifts, “I am so grateful! Thank you so much! I don’t—I don’t even know how to repay you—actually! Come join us for dinner tonight…Ara will sing for us, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Her voice is so pretty, and she’ll be so happy to sing for a Princess like you, Y/N.”

“There’s another girl on the ship?” I asked surprised, eyebrows raising as Hana grabbed my arm softly, and started pulling me towards the stairs.

“Yes, but she rarely leaves her room. She’s—” Hana stiffened for a second, I wouldn’t have caught it if she didn’t stop walking, “San doesn’t like letting her out of his sight, he’s—Would you like to meet Ara before dinner?”

I listened to Hana with furrowed eyebrows, taking in the new information, slightly confused about who San was. Wooyoung mentioned him once briefly, something about learning something from him, but I haven’t seen the man yet. I hadn’t even known there was another woman on the ship, nobody ever talked about her, it was peculiar. But Hana seemed very eager, and so I nodded, not wanting to ruin her good mood as she pulled me after herself, leading us underneath deck. She turned to the left and walked down the corridor, we passed by four doors, until she suddenly stopped walking. I almost ran into her, but noticed in time. Hana was suddenly tense, and I looked down at her, eyebrows raised, but she quickly let go of me and pressed herself up against the wall.

“Her room is the last on the left—” A loud crashing sound echoed down the corridor and Hana sucked in a deep breath, “I—I can’t go closer, I’m sorry, I should walk you there, but I—”

“It’s fine, Hana.” I stopped her rambling, offering her a comforting smile. Hana gulped loudly and nodded, looking down at the floor, “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

She nodded quietly and slipped past me, figure tense, “I’ll see you at dinner then, Y/N. Thank you for the gifts.”

“Of course, I’ll see you later then.” I bowed my head back as Hana curtsied, and turned back towards the end of the corridor, wondering why Hana wouldn’t walk me to Ara’s door. I thought she would like to see the girl, but perhaps I was wrong. I sighed and took off again, but the closer I got, the louder the voices were from one room. As I came face to face with the door Hana told me about, the mentioned voices seemed to come from inside, loud and angry. It was mainly a male voice, shouting about something he didn’t care about as he claimed that it was his job and nobody could stop him from doing it, and then, a shrill feminine voice shouting back that he couldn’t do this, that he was hurting people and ruining lives. I gulped and was about to walk away when the feminine voice shouted for the man to get out, and suddenly, the door was ripped open and I found myself face to face with a fuming man, who’s sharp eyes looked like they could kill anyone if he stared at them long enough. His chest was heaving, jaw clenched as he took me in. I glanced behind him and found a shorter girl, crying, as her big brown eyes stared back at me. Why were all the girls crying here? Suddenly, the man hissed, and I straightened my back, giving him a glare.

“What do you want?” He snapped, glaring me down.

“Is that Ara?” I asked as I glanced at the girl again, who was quick to wipe her tears away and pat her short hair down.

“What do you want from her?” The man now blocked my path, chest puffed out and stare pinning me to my place. But that wouldn’t work on me, I have been facing scarier looking men compared to him since a young age.

“I would like to talk to her—”

“No, walk along now—” The man didn’t even let me finish my sentence as he cut me off, nose flaring as he became angrier. Perhaps this person was San, Hana did say he never let Ara out of his sight.

“I am here,” I was the one to cut off his words now, taking a step closer as we stared each other down, “to talk to Ara. Whether you like that or not, it will happen, pirate. Step aside.”

The man scoffed and narrowed his eyes at me, sneering, “We aren’t in your fucking palace, Princess, you won’t command me around. Do you even know who I am?”

I chuckled, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “Do I have to know? Clearly, you are a very overbearing person who’s getting on my nerves right now. You should do what I ask while I’m being nice, pirate.”

“Listen here, spoiled brat—”

“That is not how you talk to a Princess!” Ara shrieked and before the man or I could react, she was by his side, pulling him away from me. I watched the two with narrowed eyes, glaring at the man as he scoffed, but looked at Ara when she grabbed his bicep, “San, treat her with respect, she’s royalty. The next Queen.”

“I don’t give a fuck about who she is.” He chuckled, but it was humorless. Ara bit her lower lip and spare me a quick glance before she took a deep breath.

“San, please—”

“I said no, Ara, you’re not going with her.” San snapped, and shook Ara’s grip off himself, “So that she can feed more bullshit into your head?! Like Taeri has? No, Ara. Get lost, Princess.”

San’s eyes snapped onto me, glaring as he went to slam the door in my face, but before I could react, Ara was stood in front of him, standing in the doorway, and not allowing him to close it. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as Ara grabbed San’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. San’s body grew tense and his jaw clenched as the girl clung onto him.

“Please,” Ara’s voice was barely over a whisper, I strained my ears to hear her words, “I—I will stop. Everything. San, please, let me walk with her. No more Taeri, I will never talk to her again, I promise just—let me talk to the Princess. It’s my only chance to be around royalty, you know that.”

San swiftly grabbed Ara’s nape, leaning slightly down so that they would be eye to eye. He raised his right hand and pointed his forefinger at the woman, “You better keep your word, angel, or else you will regret it.”

Ara nodded wordlessly and after an uncomfortable moment of silence, San released her and stepped back, sharp eyes falling on me. His demeanor seemed to change, he almost looked calm, almost. He pointed his finger at me, “You have twenty minutes with her.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I grabbed Ara and pulled her out of the room, slamming the door after ourselves. My blood was boiling as I took a deep breath, trying to assess the situation and the relationship these two seemed to have. Ara was an anxious mess next to me as she fidgeted with her fingers and when I glanced at her, she gasped.

“I am so sorry, Princess, he shouldn’t have treated you like that nor spoken to you like that! San has issues controlling his temper, I can assure you that he didn’t mean any of that—” I placed a hand over Ara’s shoulder, she quickly averted her eyes.

“Do not apologize for him, Ara, and do not defend him when he behaves like that with you. He meant everything he said, no need to try and turn his words around.” I couldn’t help but feel aggravated as Ara chewed on her lower lip, suddenly bowing deeply.

“I apologize profusely, Princess, this is certainly not the way I hoped to see you for the first time—” She suddenly sniffed and my heart clenched, “I am so embarrassed right now, I can’t even put it into words.”

I sighed and grabbed Ara’s hand, making her stand up straight. I offered her a small soft smile, raising her chin up as her eyes were filled with tears, “Your actions are admirable as many would’ve cowered in front of him. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Let us walk then…”

Ara forced a smile onto her face as she stood next to me, and we took down the corridor. I had no idea where we could walk to, but perhaps going to Wooyoung’s room for starters was a good idea. If she didn’t leave her room often, I didn’t know if bringing her on the deck was too smart, maybe it would make San leash out on her again, and I didn’t want that to happen.

“My name is Y/N, Hana told me you would be singing after dinner tonight?” I spoke up when the air was filled with tension. Ara’s shoulders were suddenly pulled back, her demeanor changing scarily fast, as a very charming smile appeared on her lips.

“Yes, Princess Y/N, I shall be your entertainer tonight, my name is Im Ara.” She curtsied quickly and I chuckled, intrigued by her change of character.

“Have you entertained aristocrats or royalty before?” I asked curiously, her attitude way too professional. It certainly didn’t seem like this would be her first time speaking to important people.

“You would be the first one, Princess Y/N.” Ara bowed her head slightly and I looked at her surprised as we reached Wooyoung’s room. It was on the other end of the corridor from San’s room.

“What is an entertainer and a beautiful lady like you doing on a pirate ship?” I asked, genuinely curious, as I pushed Wooyoung’s door open, the room empty. He was always absent before dinner, I wondered where he disappeared to every day. Ara seemed to tense because of my question as I led her inside, suddenly embarrassed about the mess in the room. My things were thrown all around the room, dresses falling out of the briefcases messily, and my paintings were laying around on the floor. Ara took in the sight surprised, but when we made eye contact she quickly masked it with a pleasant smile and placed her hands behind her back.

“I was kidnapped by San.” The look on her face didn’t match her words, and my eyebrows furrowed as I stared at Ara, waiting for her to tell me the real reason. But when she just continued staring at me with an emotionless smile on her face, my stomach dropped.

“He—you what?” I asked shocked, and Ara’s smile fell as her face turned solemn.

“I was walking home from the Inn I worked at one night. My boss warned me that Ateez were in town, but I thought I was safe, that nothing would happen to me. That’s when San kidnapped me to sell me off to a wealthy man, but as you can see…I had the misfortune of staying with him—”

“This is horrible!” I gasped as I placed a hand over my mouth, watching her in horror as Ara seemed unaffected by whatever she was saying. Like she had accepted her fate.

“I begged him to let me stay with him, I wanted this,” She sighed, her shoulders slouching forward, “Trust me, Princess, staying here and living with him is a lot better than whatever fate was waiting for me once I was sold.”

I shuddered just at the thought of getting sold off by someone, “Does he do this often?”

Ara chuckled humorlessly, “It’s one of the many businesses he gets by, we were just arguing about it earlier before you came. I don’t understand why I bother to try to change his mind, it’s fruitless. But I—I can’t just stand by and watch as he ruins so many lives—not when I went through that. Not when I know the kind of thoughts which cross your mind during those moments, the dread which fills your body, the despair and uncertainty of what will happen to you. I have to stop him, Princess, I’m trying so hard, but he’s—too strong. He holds too much power, and he doesn’t care at all about the consequences of his actions.”

“He seems to care, since he gave in so quickly to you.” I muttered and Ara shook her head sadly.

“He only gave in because he got something out of it.” I gulped at Ara’s words, feeling the weight of them.

“Will you—stop? What you were doing before, whatever that is?” I inquired quietly, and suddenly there was a glint in Ara’s eyes, but she quickly masked it as she frowned, looking around with fake sadness etched onto her face.

“It’s best if I don’t bother a Princess with such topics, isn’t it?” I smiled, understanding the hidden message in her words, and hummed, looking around, eyes falling on my gowns. I looked back at Ara, noticing her gaze on the gowns too. I smiled and walked up to the briefcase, picking up a beige colored cotton gown, glittering golden like stripes decorating the long sleeves of it. Ara’s eyes widened as she stared at it longingly. I let my eyes run over her form before I looked down at the gown, mentally comparing her frame to my gown. She was slightly taller than me, but seemed to be around the same dimensions as myself, so, with a big smile I extended the gown towards her. Ara’s eyes widened as she looked at me, taking a step back taken aback.

“What—what are you doing, Princess?” She asked alarmed. I chuckled and approached her, pulling her hands from behind her back.

“The entertainer must look stellar when on stage, especially if they have a Princess in their audience.” Ara’s eyes widened as she grabbed the gown, hugging it to her chest, “I think it will fit you nicely, Ara.”

“Thank you, my Princess,” Ara bowed her head deeply, beaming with happiness, “I will forever be grateful and indebted to you.”

“Oh, well,” I chuckled and waved her words off, “you could start by simply calling me Y/N, and I suppose your debt would instantly disappear.”

“I could never do that, Princess!” She gasped and watched me as if I had two heads, “You deserve respect and to be properly addressed to.”

I chuckled and pretended to think, “Well in that case, keep the gown. It’ll show just how grateful you are.”

Ara’s eyes widened and she bowed again, making me bow back, alarming her as she quickly pushed me to stand up straight. I giggled and Ara huffed, as if I had been a disobedient child antagonizing her. She seemed lovely and very well mannered.

“I shall go and get ready, I look forward to seeing you later, Princess.” Ara curtsied and I nodded with a smile, waving at her as she left the room. As I went to close the door after her, I heard a high-pitched squeal echo down the corridor, making me chuckle to myself as I debated whether I should wear or not a representative dress of the Oh family to make Ara even happier.

I didn’t want to out dress Ara as I had given one of my most beautiful gowns to her, but I knew she would absolutely love seeing me in the Oh family’s colors, therefore I chose to wear a dress which has been passed down for generations. It was a cotton dress, dark blue with silver highlights and a belt decorated with royal opals. The dress was heavy and different from the gowns in our times, but it always had a special place in my heart. I couldn’t leave it at the castle, secretly hoping that I would have a reason to wear it at least once. And Ara offered me just that chance, making me feel excited as I pulled the front strands of my hair back and tied them into a braid. The dress was warm and I was thankful as I had been feeling rather cold since coming back downstairs, the fabric sitting snugly against my body. Once I was ready, I left the room and searched for the kitchen a little confused, each room’s door was closed on this corridor and no loud chatter came from the insides. Pirates wouldn’t be so quiet at dinner, right? And then, just as I was about to give up, I remembered the corner Taeri and Yunho rounded yesterday, and I headed towards it, finding a new set of stairs leading downstairs. I grabbed the skirt of the dress and raised it above my ankles as I carefully made my way downstairs, finding less doors on this hallway. And just as I took off towards the right, the louder chatter I expected echoed down the hallway, a cacophony of sounds as I couldn’t make out one comprehensible word. The door was closed, yet it wouldn’t make much difference if it wasn’t, in my opinion. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, pulling my shoulders back as I exhaled. I knew everyone would be staring at me, especially when I was wearing such a dress screaming of my origins and wealth. I had to remind myself that I was doing this for Ara, that thought would stop me from running back to Wooyoung’s room. The woman seemed so sad and tired, I felt like this was the least I could do to cheer her up. She held so much respect and admiration for me as we talked, my heart would break if I were to disappoint her. So, masking all emotions from my face, I placed my hands in front of me and straightened my back as I pushed the door open, pretending that I was walking inside the throne room during one of my mother’s extravagant balls. You don’t look at anyone, you don’t make any faces. You can’t hear and you can’t see. You focus on how you walk and hold your chin high, shoulders pulled back. Your one and only mission is to reach your chair next to your mother. These were the words I was taught in etiquette class, I never thought I would have to actually remind them to myself. Especially not on a ship infested with pirates.

As I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me, startling me, but I didn’t react. The chatter continued for another split second, until the vast kitchen went completely silent, all eyes on me. My blood froze over and suddenly I started sweating as all the pirates stared at me, some openly gawking. I didn’t know where to sit. I didn’t even know if I was welcomed here. The older pirates watched me as if I were a prize, something they could play with until they got bored of. It made my skin crawl as I stepped further inside, eyes sweeping over the long table. There weren’t many vacant places, and I noticed Wooyoung’s absence from it. Where was he if he wasn’t having dinner? Seonghwa had a pleasant smile on his lips as he nodded briefly in acknowledgment, however, the cat-like eyed man next to him didn’t look too pleased as he took in my attire. He was the Captain. Hana was nestled close into Yeosang’s side as she sat in between him and Taeri, who’s lips were pulled into a huge smile as she stared at my dress. Yunho was grinning as he nudged the man sitting next to himself, who’s mouth had fallen open at the sight of me, and I could see the rice he still hadn’t chewed, making me scrunch up my nose in disgust. He quickly closed his mouth and looked away embarrassed, pressing a ring clad hand against his face in an attempt to hide himself from my eyes. I almost chuckled as Yunho started whispering something to him, making the man’s eyebrows furrow as he elbowed him. I noticed San wasn’t here, nor was Ara. Would she not sing tonight? Did I mess up by interfering with their fight and by giving her the gown? My heart beat picked up as anxiety coursed through my veins; perhaps coming here was a mistake. And then, suddenly, I heard dishes clanking loudly, and suddenly, Wooyoung’s head popped into view as he gaped at me blatantly. He threw his hands out and gesticulated towards my body, face scrunched up in shock and mild disgust.

“What are you wearing?!” He asked alarmed, eyes taking in the ancient piece of clothing, “What if food gets on it?! That’s anci—”

My eyebrows furrowed as Wooyoung sharply sucked in a breath, cutting himself off. He seemed dumbfounded by his own reaction as he gulped loudly, adjusting his shirt all of a sudden as he averted his eyes. I narrowed my eyes at him and stepped closer, his words replaying in my mind. Did he just recognize my dress? Of course, it wasn’t hard to recognize when it screamed of royalty status, but those who weren’t in close contact with the royal families wouldn’t know the real meaning of it, or the ancestry of it. Royalty were taught about each other’s emblems and relics, family heirlooms, and anything which was representative of their family’s name. Unless Wooyoung was seriously invested with royal families stories, he had no reason knowing about the origins of my dress. He couldn’t have so easily recognized it as if it was burned into his memory. Suddenly, someone from the table cleared their throat and spoke up.

“Wooyoung, your food will get cold, come sit and eat,” It was Seonghwa, voice pleasant as he gestured towards the empty seat from across him, “You too, Princess.”

“Thank you, Seonghwa.” I bowed my head and he smiled pleasantly as he glanced around the table, throwing a glare at the pirates who haven’t stop staring, making them quickly avert their eyes. The Captain just sighed loudly and shook his head, grabbing his cup and drinking from it. He almost looked fed up. I looked at Wooyoung, whose face was expressionless as he turned around and walked to his spot, looking back at me lazily.

“Wouldn’t a princess want to sit down while eating?” He raised one eyebrow, making me squint at him, “I bet your fragile legs wouldn’t last for long if you were to stand on your two feet the whole night.”

I huffed as a few pirates snickered, but didn��t let my irritation show as I walked up to Wooyoung, pushing him over to make space for myself. He gasped as he almost fell into the pirate who Yunho had teased earlier. Wooyoung whipped his head around and glared at me flabbergasted. I grinned as I graciously sat down where Wooyoung was supposed to sit, nodding at the pirate next to me who was taken aback by my presence. The man quickly scrambled to pour some wine into my own cup and I chuckled as I quietly thanked him. Wooyoung scoffed loudly and wriggled himself in between myself and the taller pirate next to Yunho, glaring at my profile as I carefully took a sip of the wine, expecting it to taste awful, but it didn’t. It was actually very tasty and almost sweet. I haven’t had wine like this before.

“Of course,” Wooyoung grumbled as he pulled his plate towards himself and away from me, “you came here to show off, didn’t you? Do you enjoy the attention everyone is suddenly giving you? Of course you are, you are a spoiled princess after all.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to look at Wooyoung with a fake smile on my lips, “I love how you answer your own questions, Wooyoung, it’s like you’re talking to yourself.”

The man on Wooyoung’s left suddenly snickered, hiding his face when Wooyoung’s head snapped towards him to glare at him. I chuckled and thanked Yeosang as he handed me a clean plate for dinner. I looked around the table, finding a lot more food than I was expecting. Perhaps the cook made a special dinner since Ara would sing for us tonight. I placed a bit of chicken meat on my plate and a few vegetables which looked very tasty, thanking Hana when she eagerly pushed some rice onto my plate. She looked away shyly when I complimented her lovely outfit. She wore a white dress with floral imprints on it, the orange shawl I have gifted her earlier wrapped around her shoulders tightly. She seemed to be leaning into Yeosang’s side completely, and as the man was finished with his dinner and sipping on his wine, I noticed the protective arm he had around her hips. Hana seemed happy as she ate her dinner, paying attention to the conversation Yeosang was having with the Captain. I quietly enjoyed my dinner, completely impressed by the cook’s talent as rich flavors exploded in my mouth. Everything was so tasty. It seemed even better than the previous days Wooyoung had brought me food. I took a sip of my wine to wash down the meat, and hummed contently. Wooyoung was quiet for once as he carefully ate his dinner, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was holding the silverware correctly as he carefully cut up his meat into equal pieces, and he never rushed as he ate, never putting too much food into his mouth. He chewed slowly and would pat his mouth from time to time with a handkerchief, only grabbing for his cup of wine when he was finished with his food. My eyes narrowed as my thoughts started wandering, thinking of how much etiquette Wooyoung seemed to be aware of. I even dared to think that he was acting like a prince would at the dinner table with his family. When Wooyoung’s eyes fell on me, I quickly averted my eyes and took another gulp of my wine, embarrassed that he caught me staring.

“I didn’t choke despite you wishing for me to do so.” Wooyoung mocked, yet I never wished for that to happen to him, however, I didn’t tell him that.

“Pity,” I muttered over the cup before clearing my throat, “I wonder who the cook is. I’ve been intending to tell them how tasty the food is. You pirates are lucky to have him, otherwise you’d be long dead without him. Especially you, Wooyoung. I bet you’d be the first one to starve to death—”

I couldn’t even finish my sentence before the man next to Wooyoung moaned loudly, barely gulping the food down in his stuffed mouth, “Mate—Wooyoung, you really outdid yourself tonight. I haven’t eaten anything this good like—ever!”

“Thank you, Mingi.” Wooyoung smirked smugly as his eyes fell on me, one eyebrow raised. My mouth fell open, I couldn’t help myself even if it wasn’t princess like. Wooyoung was the cook? And I just accidentally complimented him while also insulting him? I hated how quickly my face flamed up, but I acted as if I didn’t feel it, staring Wooyoung down as he looked at me challengingly.

“And you were saying, princess…” He clicked his tongue loudly and I huffed as I looked away, licking my lips in frustration. I would certainly never hear the end of this, “I’m glad you enjoyed your dinner, the cook, myself, is rather flattered at the moment.”

I would’ve rolled my eyes if it wasn’t for Wooyoung’s sudden proximity. His strong cologne invaded my nostrils as I felt his breath hit my ear, his warmth engulfing my slightly tingling body. I haven’t drank alcohol in long, and it was hot inside the kitchen, it was slightly getting to my head. But I gulped and sat up straighter, turning to glare at Wooyoung. However, I found myself speechless as I was face to face with him, his skin flawless from so close. My eyes fell onto the mole underneath his left eye and I gulped, looking back up into his eyes. Wooyoung watched me curiously, and I felt his fingers sneaking towards my wrist, feeling the fabric of my dress. I looked down the same time he did, my heart racing in my chest. Why was I reacting in this way?

“Why would you wear this to dinner?” He asked in a whisper, looking back up into my eyes. I gulped as I stared into his eyes, suddenly mesmerized by the color of them. Wooyoung had really pretty eyes.

“I promised Ara I would come watch her perform,” I whispered, feeling like a cocoon fell over the two of us as the pirates loud chatter downed out our quiet voices, “I figured wearing something specific for my family would make her even happier. She seemed rather taken by me.”

“Her life purpose was to sing for the royal families and aristocrats,” Wooyoung’s lips pulled into a small smile, I felt his finger graze against my skin, where my bruises were already fading, “She’ll appreciate your gesture, Y/N.”

The breath caught in my throat. Wooyoung has never called me by my name before. As I fought the smile off my face, hating how badly I was blushing, Wooyoung seemed to realize his slip up and he quickly cleared his throat, withdrawing, and looking away. I gulped and reached for my cup of wine quickly, catching Taeri and Yunho’s knowing glances, my body shuddering at whatever those two were trying to imply by the simple look on their faces. Wooyoung was insufferable, there was no way I was starting to take a liking to him. Before I could dwell more on my mixed feelings for Wooyoung, the kitchen door opened, and Ara walked inside. The gown fit her perfectly, accentuating her curves and complementing her skin. Flowers were placed in her short hair and there was a slight red blush to her cheeks, unnatural. Her lips were redder than before and she threw a beaming smile our way. Nobody would be able to tell how she truly felt, her eyes were empty of any emotion and her face was a mask of calmness. My lips instantly pulled up into a huge smile and as Ara’s eyes fell on me, they widened, and she placed her hands over her heart. The gown had a sweetheart neckline, a simple pearl necklace sat around her neck snugly.

“Good evening, lovely ladies and gentlemen—” Ara extended her hand, pointed towards me, “my Princess, Oh Y/N, from the Sun Rise Kingdom.”

She curtsied and I bowed my head, smiling at Ara’s adorableness. She would’ve been so beloved if she would’ve been able to follow her dreams. My mother would’ve certainly loved her for her adequate manners and deep respect.

“Tonight, I, Im Ara, will be your entertainer.” She bowed slightly and the pirates started clapping furiously, everyone seemingly liking the lovely girl. Ara waited patiently for the room to quiet down, I couldn’t help but join in on the clapping, “After my opening act you are all welcomed to requests songs and join me on the dance floor.”

The pirates roared again and I chuckled, looking around impressed. I would’ve never thought I would witness such things one day.

As the night progressed, the atmosphere seemed to get livelier and livelier as the drunk pirates enjoyed themselves. If anyone would’ve told me a week ago, that I would be sitting on a ship full of dangerous pirates, who gather around in the kitchen and sing their hearts out as they drink their sorrows away, I would’ve probably laughed in their face. Ara was like a bright star in the late hours of the night, guiding you through the darkness. She laughed and twirled around, her beautiful voice carrying through the vast room, allowing the pirates to pull her into their arms as they danced around. She was glowing, and when I decided to join the dancing circle, her face lit up even more and her voice rose a few octaves, her song turning even livelier as she sung about a hidden treasure, about a lost woman finding herself while on the hunt for it, and about a rather dumb man who fell head over heels for her, worshipping her as if she were the last woman in the four seas and four kingdoms. The pirates seemed to love this little tale as they joined Ara, their manly voices booming over hers, making me laugh as I was suddenly pulled into a hard chest. My eyes widened when I realized it was the Captain, but the displeased look was gone from his face and his eyes weren’t as sharp as before, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. I chuckled as he made a comment about my dress, before twirling me around until my head was spinning and I had to excuse myself, stumbling into the wall near the exit. As I caught my breath, I noticed movement from the corner of my eyes, head still spinning, and I turned to see who was standing in the doorway. It was rather surprising as San and I made eye contact, his eyes narrowed as he threw me a warning glare, probably telling me to shut up. I didn’t say anything as his eyes fell back onto Ara, who was in the arms of Mingi, giggling and helping him stand up straight as he has had too much wine. If it weren’t for San’s clenched fists, I wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was bothered by that simple gesture. His face remained emotionless until he sucked in a harsh breath and stormed off, body rigid. Before I could dwell more on the man’s actions, Taeri was gripping my hands and asking me to join her in a dance as the pirates took over with a sailor’s song, Ara just laughing as she continued struggling to dance with Mingi. However, I had to refuse Taeri as my legs were aching, not having danced this much before. The stuffiness of the room was also getting to me as it was making my head spin more, the hotness of the room bringing a flush to my cheeks. When I thought nobody was watching, I made sure to look around, I slipped outside the kitchen and took a deep breath as cool air instantly hit my face. I raised the skirt of the dress above my ankles and carefully padded down the corridor, headed for the stairs. I sighed as my feet felt heavy as I climbed them, yearning for some fresh air. Instead of going to Wooyoung’s room, I went up on deck, raveling in the tranquility around me. The breeze was slow and small, the cool air felt refreshing against my flushed skin. I walked towards the railing and gripped it, staring up at the clear sky. The moon was beautifully reflected in the seawater, ripples disturbing the image as a wave would crash occasionally. I have missed this. Gazing up at the stars as the world was quiet around me.

The soles of my feet felt sore and I stepped out of the high heels I have found nestled underneath my dresses in one of the briefcases. Wooyoung, surprisingly, has packed a lot of my things. Things which I wouldn’t have even considered bringing with myself if I were to come willingly. My thoughts seemed to fixate on Wooyoung as the image of his eyes and that one mole underneath it plagued my mind suddenly, making me sigh as I allowed my head to fall back. My eyes fell on the Evening Star, and I couldn’t help but compare it to Ara. It was bright, beautiful, and so far away. Ara seemed to be a sweet person, but whatever was happening to her because of San was dimming her light. It made me feel helpless that I couldn’t help her in any way, it made my blood boil. How could someone be as horrible as San? Did he not have a mother? A sister? Did he have no respect for women? My throat closed in on me as I forced my thoughts to stop spiraling more about the mistreatment Ara must go through because of that horrible man, and instead, I found myself feeling grateful that the only thing Wooyoung seemed to be doing to me was to annoy me. He fed me since the beginning and even tried to hold a civil conversation at times; there was an attempt at trying to get to know me better. Besides the fact that he was a pirate, who quite frequently dodged his duties, and cooked for his crew, I didn’t know much about him. I wondered where he was from and why he was living this life. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the crew, something about the way he held himself and spoke set him apart from the other men. Seonghwa was an elegant man, but his façade would slip frequently, and you could see that he was simply just a man, raised by probably someone very savage. The Captain couldn’t even be compared to Wooyoung, his exterior and behavior were rough. The only person who came close to Wooyoung was Mingi, who’s steps were light and posture always straight, as if it had been grilled into his mind that was the adequate way to carry himself. And yet, Wooyoung dressed in expensive clothes, smelled expensive, and more often than not acted like someone who was raised in posh conditions. His skin was flawless and hands soft, despite handling a sword, no bruises decorated his palms. He spoke freely yet was careful with his words, and I have never heard him cursing. His gaze was intense when he watched you, attentive and analytic, yet never intrusive. Even tonight, I could feel his gaze on me almost at all times. I supposed he was keeping an eye on me since the older pirates were there with us and would look at me like I was a piece of meat. Perhaps Wooyoung’s warning hasn’t been harsh enough.

The wood cracked behind me and I flinched, head whipping around quickly, praying that it wasn’t any of those awful pirates. I probably wasn’t powerful enough to overpower them and with the fiesta happening downstairs, nobody would hear my pleas for help. And to my fortune, it wasn’t a scary pirate. It was just Wooyoung. Which made my heart beat fast all of a sudden, the cool air doing nothing against the flush of my cheeks. He came closer, eyes watching me carefully before a small smile appeared on his lips. I didn’t say anything, but I returned the smile, a bit reluctantly, as he came to a stop next to me. He left little distance between our bodies as he leaned against the railing, looking off in the distance. His gaze seemed unfocused as he took a deep breath, closing his eyes lightly. The soft breeze brushed against his dark hair, and I noticed he let it sit freely for once against his face, framing it. It made his features seem sharper, and I gulped as I looked away, blaming the alcohol for all the things I was noticing about him. We remained silent and the silence was comfortable around us, pleasant even. Wooyoung’s hand rested close to mine against the railing, if I were to extend my pinky finger, it would poke his. My eyebrows furrowed at the thought and I cleared my throat just as Wooyoung turned his head to look at me. I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for some reason, so I continued gazing out towards the dark sea.

“Are you feeling alright, Princess?” Wooyoung asked quietly, as if to not disturb our serene surroundings. I looked at him slightly surprised and nodded wordlessly, chewing on my lower lip.

“It felt too packed inside the kitchen, I needed some fresh air.” I explained and Wooyoung hummed, his eyes never leaving mine. I couldn’t help but gaze back into his, taken by the glimmer in them. His features were soft, for the first time, he didn’t look like he’d say anything malicious.

“The dress Ara is wearing tonight…you have that to her, didn’t you?” Wooyoung asked quietly and I nodded with a small smile, “And the orange shawl on Hana, is that yours too?”

“Yes, I gifted them to the girls.” I said nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders, “I also gave Hana my crayons. Once I’m back in my kingdom I’ll be able to purchase tons of them—unless my mother bans me from drawing or painting ever again, of course.”

My voice turned a bit sour and I averted my eyes when Wooyoung looked at me with confusion, “Did you know Hana loves to draw?”

I knew he wanted to ask about my mother, but I didn’t allow him as I quickly changed the subject. Wooyoung seemed to be thinking for a second before he quickly shook his head no. I smiled and stared at the moon’s reflection in the sea, “All of the ladies living on the ship seem to be lovely. However, Ara—you should take more care of her. Forbid San from going close to her.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, princess,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked away when my heated gaze fell on him, “We don’t meddle with each other’s businesses. Whatever San and Ara do is between the two of them—”

“What if one day you all wake up to find Ara dead?” My voice hardened and Wooyoung’s jaw clenched.

“Then she’ll have a funeral and people who’d mourn her.” I scoffed at Wooyoung’s harsh words, taken aback. His eyebrows were furrowed as he turned to look at me, face pulled into an irritated grimace, “We’re on the sea, princess. You’re surrounded by pirates. You’re on Ateez’ ship, we’re known to be merciless and dangerous. The laws from your kingdom don’t apply the same way here on the sea, on this ship.”

“You should treat people more decently, at least.” I snapped and Wooyoung rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Tell me, princess, were you not treated decently while traveling with us?” I bit my tongue, unable to deny his question. I was treated well, a lot better than I expected, but what about all the other people who weren’t? Who died by their swords? Who were tortured and taken away from their familiar lives? What about them?

“This isn’t about me.” I whispered, gulping when Wooyoung shook his head, seemingly annoyed.

“Then who is it about?” He pressed; voice laced with annoyance.

“Everyone else who suffered a fate worse than mine.”

“Quit acting like a kind soul who’s worried for everyone around them.” Wooyoung’s voice hardened and my eyes widened at his next words, “You abandoned your people. You ran away from home, because anything is allowed for a princess. Because you got bored one day of the comfortable life you were living and ran away, proving my point that you’re a spoiled brat. You think anyone can just do that? Leave everything behind and build a new life without consequences? Live comfortably despite having nothing?”

My blood boiled at the hear of his words and my jaw clenched as I took a step closer to him, shoulders squared back as I glared at Wooyoung, “You sure know how to judge and hold a speech about someone who you don’t even know, pirate. I couldn’t care less about what you think of me, but when you make such outrageous claims about me I won’t remain quiet. Not when—someone who’s hiding his true identity preaches to me about what’s right and wrong. I know you’re not a pirate Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s lips parted in surprise and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at me, just a few inches between the two of us. My heart stuttered in my chest, but I paid it no mind as my cheeks flared from anger, glare hardening the longer Wooyoung remained silent. It only further proved my theory. He wasn’t a pirate. I had caught onto his poor façade.

“You’re right,” He cleared his throat, lips pulling into a tight smile, “I am not a pirate.”

“Then who are you?” I quickly questioned, anticipating his answer. My skin suddenly tingled for I was right. I saw through his little act and now he was about to confess his true identity to me. I shouldn’t have felt so victorious over such a small thing, but I couldn’t help myself as my glare disappeared and my eyebrows raised in urgency the more Wooyoung stalled with his answer.

“Jung Wooyoung,” He breathed out, looking uncomfortable as the next words left his mouth, “Crown prince of the South Kingdom. I ran away when I was thirteen on a whim, and joined Hongjoong’s crew. I never wanted to rule, my parents forced me into taking a decision. Be the crown prince or be forever locked away in a castle far from any humans. I craved a life full of adventure and freedom, far from my controlling and ruthless parents.”

My eyebrows were furrowed as I listened to Wooyoung’s story, heartbeat picking up again as I looked at him confused. He was Jung Wooyoung? The next in line of the South Kingdom? He was…he was the thirteen years old Wooyoung I have met all those years ago? A pang, which felt like a dagger to my heart, traveled through my body as I gasped and took a step back, staring Wooyoung down. My eyes ran over him, and suddenly all the repressed memories of the little boy came rushing back. The pretty eyes, the mole underneath his left eye. His loud laughter, which was ear piercing and irritating. His put together attire despite him constantly running and hiding in impossible places. His mischievous nature and his snarky comments. The whispered promise before we parted ways of us conquering the world together, of fighting our hardships together, of a love which would be eternal. And then…not even a week later, the news of the little prince going missing. The many letters his parents sent apologizing and promising to find him, promising to wed us as soon as he’d be found. Jung Wooyoung, the missing little prince, presumed to be dead, yet never quite forgotten.

My lips quivered at the discovery and I shook my head as Wooyoung watched me with a confused expression, reaching out, but I slapped his hand away, “No. You—you’re here preaching to me about what’s right and wrong—about running away when you did the same thing! When you abandoned your duties, when you—when you left a little girl worrying and waiting for your return for her whole life! You made her life miserable with your departure, and you never even considered the repercussions of your actions! You don’t get to talk to me like that, Wooyoung, leave me alone. I don’t need you bringing me meals anymore, I know where the kitchen is. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

I stormed off with an aching heart, tears streaming down my face. My betrothed had been right by my side all this time, almost making me second guess everything I had done in the past three years.

Wooyoung respected my request, for the past two days he hasn’t come near me. I haven’t seen him during breakfast, lunch, nor dinner. I didn’t know where he went when I was in the kitchen, and I wasn’t curious. I was beyond hurt and mad at him. I couldn’t believe the prince I was supposed to marry was the one who’d return me to my mother, make me a prisoner of a life I didn’t want anymore, meanwhile he would return to the life of a pirate where he had no care in the world, no commitments, and no troubles. The thought didn’t sit right with me, it made my blood boil. I couldn’t let that happen; I couldn’t allow Wooyoung slip through my fingers unpunished. But if I wasn’t smart about it, then the both of us would be doomed for a lifetime. Therefore, the plan I had been twisting and turning in my mind, found its perfect side character. Jung Wooyoung, the man who would pretend to be in love with me, get married to me, and then…run away with me. If I were to follow my heart, I would leave him behind, but he could easily find out about my whereabouts and then all my efforts would be in vain. I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t have much time, the sun was close to setting, anchor already settled as we have reached the coasts of the Sun Rise Kingdom. I was nervous as I paced up and down the hallway in front of Wooyoung’s room. I left the door open when I left, that’s how I knew he was inside. There was no better time than right now to rope Wooyoung up into my plan. There was no time left. I had to act now. So, I pushed the door open and closed it behind me quickly, turning to march up to Wooyoung all confident, back straight and chin held high. But the sight in front of me halted me in my steps, making Wooyoung cry out as his wide eyes fell on me. The pants he wore hung low on his waist, undone, and a black tank top was clutched in his right hand. My strong façade broke as my eyes traveled down his bare torso, skin tan and smooth, muscles hard and worked. His stomach wasn’t lacking either as a six-pack stared back at me. Staring so blatantly was very much so not princess like, but it wasn’t often a man stood half naked in front of me. Let alone a handsome man like Wooyoung.

“Hey!” Wooyoung yelped, suddenly snapping out of his initial shock as he clumsily covered himself with his hands, “Stop staring at me! Just because I’m a man doesn’t mean I don’t deserve privacy! This—this is outrageous and unacceptable! Get out, princess—”

“Stop fussing, and shut up.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest, “You wouldn’t be exposed anymore if you used your brain and put on that tank top you’re holding.”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to fire something back, but realized I was right, and he quickly whirled around as he dressed himself, doing the lace of his pants as I rolled my eyes at his childishness, “What do you want? I thought you said you didn’t want to see me ever again.”

“I changed my mind,” I snapped, watching as Wooyoung faced me again, his cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment, “You’re not allowed to say no to what I’m about to tell you. And you need to keep your mouth shut about it too, can you do that for me, Prince Jung Wooyoung?”

“Don’t call me that, I haven’t been a prince for—” Wooyoung’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed and he looked appalled, “You can’t command me around, Princess Oh Y/N, I won’t listen to you or do whatever you want me to do.”

“We’ll see about that later,” I muttered with a smirk as I walked closer to Wooyoung, raising an eyebrow at him, “What’s my name?”

Wooyoung looked at me like I grew two heads all of a sudden, “Are you dumb or something—”

“Say my name.” I snapped, glaring at him when he didn’t want to do what I told him to. Wooyoung scoffed and placed his hands on his hips, looking irritated.

“Princess Oh Y/N.” He finally said, making it sound like it was forced out of him, it might as well been.

“And you’re Prince Jung Wooyoung.” I said firmly, making Wooyoung look at me confused. Uncomfortable silence fell around us as I kept staring at him, hoping that he’d realize by himself, but apparently Wooyoung was too daft for that, “Didn’t you have a betrothed, prince? From the Sun Rise Kingdom?”

“Yeah, I did,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, “But it was ages ago, I don’t even remember what she looked like, except for her name which stuck with me, because she loved gazing at the stars at night and her name meant sky. Princess Oh—”

A wide grin spread onto my lips as Wooyoung’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open. He shakily raised a finger and pointed it at me, making me chuckle amused, “That’s right, Wooyoung. It’s me, I’m that girl. I’m your betrothed. I don’t understand how you didn’t figure it out straight away, you’re quite daft, have you been told that before?”

“I am not, I—” Wooyoung seemed speechless as he exclaimed, huffing loudly, “I just…didn’t make the connection because I made sure to forget everything about my life before I became a pirate.”

I licked my lips, heart clenching weirdly at the knowledge of Wooyoung purposefully wanting to forget about me, “Well now you know. And you’re going to help me out. I don’t want to rule either, not when I know my mother’s men will make my life a living hell. All I want to do is paint and live by the sea, gaze up at the stars at night, and perhaps teach etiquette to little children. And for that to happen, I need your help, Wooyoung.”

The prince’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked very repulsed by the idea of mingling into the life of a royal, but as he was about to refuse me, he looked me in the eyes and paused. I was grinning at him, skin tingling just at the mere thought of my plan working out, of having Wooyoung by my side in the process. Something in his demeanor changed as a light glimmer appeared in his eyes, the mischievous boy I remembered suddenly stood right in front of me.

“What’s the plan, Princess?”

For a second all I could hear was the loud pounding of my heart as my mother’s scrutinizing gaze rooted me to my spot. Nothing really changed around here. The Throne Room was still decorated the same, still as cold as it had always been. If it weren’t for the presence next to me, for the warm hand gripping my hand back tightly, I probably would’ve fainted on the spot from my nerves. I was sweating, I was feeling hot and cold at the same time, and my head was thumping wilder than my heart. This was the day everything would change. I heard Wooyoung suck in a quiet breath next to me as my mother and her most precious advisor took off, headed towards us. Wooyoung and I stood in the middle of the Throne Room, their trek strenuous and nerve-wrecking as they took careful and slow steps towards us, almost as if they couldn’t believe the Princess was back. I couldn’t imagine how Wooyoung felt after so many years of evading his Kingdom and origins to be standing in a Throne Room, about to utter some crazy words. I felt like I couldn’t breathe for a second as my mother stopped a few steps away, her advisor standing behind her, glaring harshly at me and at my joined hand with Wooyoung. His palm was sweaty, but our intertwined hands would never allow the other’s hand to slip away.

“Child,” My mother’s voice was hard as it boomed around us, and I gulped drily, “you have returned, I see.”

Wooyoung and I acted at the same time, my body folding in two as I bowed in front of my mother, in front of the Queen. Wooyoung got down on one knee, bowing his head deeply, showing her the utmost respect. After a few seconds of not moving, I dared raise my head and peek at my mother. She watched us shocked and as she cleared her throat she spoke, “Stand up, you fools.”

Ah, yes, her affection never ceased to impress me. I tried to keep off the sour grimace from my face as I stood up straight, shoulders pulled back, and Wooyoung got back to his feet, averting eye contact as he stared at the red carpet we stood on.

“Princess Y/N, how pleasant your presence is,” The advisor spoke up, making my jaw clench, “Almost as if you haven’t been gone for three years. Did you enjoy yourself?”

The insult was on the tip of my tongue, but Wooyoung’s slight tug on my hand stopped me from saying anything to the blatant mocking of the insufferable man. My mother hissed in his direction and raised her hand, that was a first. She adored listening to that monkey of hers.

“I want to hear what this is, right now.” She gestured to Wooyoung and I, glare falling on our joined hands. I allowed a small smile to slip onto my lips, everything carefully planned out last night. The spotlight was on Wooyoung now, he better be a good actor.

“Your Majesty, Queen Oh,” He bowed his head again, bringing his free hand up to his heart, “My name is Jung Wooyoung, the South Kingdom’s crown prince.”

He paused for dramatic effect and I almost rolled my eyes, his words made the advisor gasp as my mother’s eyebrows furrowed, “I know my return is sudden and unexpected, but after the pirates kidnapped me I was lost. I was merely a child, I couldn’t tell wrong from right, I thought their lifestyle was something to envy. That is until I realized my mistake and ran away from them, going into hiding out of fear that they would find me and kill me for good this time as I had stolen gold from them to fend for myself. I lived in a humble town for years, alone and scared most of the time, until…until your daughter, Your Majesty, showed up and reminded me the joys of life and—love. Until she showed me what it felt like to feel loved, to be in love. I am in love with Princess Y/N, Your Majesty.”

My heart fluttered at Wooyoung’s words and I could only hope it had a similar effect on my mother and her advisor, “I—I regret running away, mama, but if I didn’t do it—I would’ve never found the Prince, mama. I love him and I want to marry him. We’ve been sheltering our love for the past three years, scared of returning because we didn’t know what was awaiting for us. We were scared to face your wrath and his parents wrath, scared that you would separate us despite us being betrothed at an early age. I realized how much my people mean to me; and Prince Wooyoung and I want to rule together, we want to join the Kingdoms and become the next King and Queen under your blessings, mama.”

I watched my mother’s strong façade waver for a second as her eyes filled with tears, a reaction I would’ve never expected from her. She didn’t even cry at her own husband’s funeral. She glanced behind her, at her advisor, and I quickly nudged Wooyoung as they weren’t paying attention to us.

“Your Majesty, we—” He looked down sheepishly, cheeks flushed, making me wonder how he made himself blush so easily, “We would like to get married this week, if possible and allowed. I do not wish to separate from the Princess, therefore may I ask for a letter to be sent to my parents?”

“Oh, what a shocking change of events!” My mother exclaimed, pressing a hand over her mouth, the advisor not looking happy at all, “I thought I lost you, my child, forever, and here you are! Doing the right thing! I am so proud of you!”

Of course, she was only proud of me because I was doing what she wanted, not what made me happy. I almost scoffed, but Wooyoung’s quiet sigh grounded me, making me focus on the task at hand.

“I give my blessings for the weeding to happen this week, but your parents also have a say in it, Prince Wooyoung, they haven’t seen you in too long, they might not be as lenient as myself.” My mother’s eyebrows were furrowed as she placed her hands in front of her. Of course, she was only lenient because I came back with my betrothed wanting to get married and take over the throne. Pathetic.

“I am sure Your Majesty will be able to work things out with them, they have always had a spot for you, my Queen.” Wooyoung, always the sweet talker and charmer, smiled at my mother with a dashing smile on his face, my eyes staying on his face for a second too long. He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes and I quickly averted my gaze, suddenly turning red as a tomato. Why was I blushing so hard?

“Very well, Hugo, go prepare a parchment and my pen, this is an urgent matter!” My mother clapped her hands together, and I couldn’t help but allow a victorious smile stretch onto my lips as Wooyoung squeezed my hand once, biting his lower lip to stop himself from smiling too hard.

“Yes, my Queen.” The advisor muttered with distaste and after a nasty look sent our way, he stormed off. My mother was smiling expectantly at us and I gulped, realizing that we weren’t exactly displaying any joy at the outcome of the events. So, I quickly took action as I turned towards Wooyoung, letting go of his hand and cupping his cheeks as he faced me instinctively.

“Oh, Wooyoung!” I let out a dreamy sigh, faking that I was on the verge of crying, “The world will finally know about love. I’ll be finally your wife—”

“And my Queen.” Wooyoung cut me off, mesmerizing eyes boring into mine. My breath caught in my throat as I gulped nervously.

“And you shall be my King.” For a second, nothing happened, but then Wooyoung’s eyes fell onto my lips and my heart started beating fast again, breath faltering as he leaned in closer. I knew we had to do this because my mother was watching, waiting for us to slip up despite her acts of kindness. So, I closed my eyes when Wooyoung’s lips brushed against mine barely, my whole body flaming as I pushed my head forward, connecting our lips firmly. My mind blanked for a moment and I didn’t dare move, as I felt Wooyoung’s hands on my waist, pulling me closer. My hands on his cheeks tightened and I almost gasped as he suddenly moved his lips, capturing my lower lip in between his as I returned his kiss. His lips were soft and warm, they fit perfectly against mine as we found a rhythm comfortable for the both of us, the feeling of kissing foreign. My skin tingled as the kisses were slow, until I forgot about the presence of my mother and I found myself pressing into Wooyoung’s body, breathing in his strong cologne as his lips picked up their pace, more urgent than before, and my head was suddenly spinning. My fingers dug into his cheeks painfully as Wooyoung’s grip tightened on me as well, lungs screaming for air, yet I couldn’t pull away just yet. Something felt addictive about his lips, about his kisses, about his warmth and his cologne. Wooyoung was the first to break the kiss, much to my dismay, and as I gasped in a deep breath of air, a short but deep kiss was pressed against my lips once again, our eyes slowly opening at the same time. I was breathing hard as we stared into each other’s eyes, Wooyoung’s chest rising and falling rapidly, his hot breath hitting my face in quick puffs. I chuckled, biting my lower lip at the absurdity of the situation. Wooyoung’s eyes quickly looked to the side, but my mother was gone. It was just the two of us. I don’t know when she walked away and I didn’t care. As Wooyoung looked back at me again, my eyes fell on the mole underneath his eye and I had the sudden urge to press a kiss against it, but I willed myself not to. I shouldn’t give in to some absurd urges so early on. His lips seemed slightly plumper and redder than before; I supposed mine looked similar.

“I have to admit you might be a genius, Princess.” Wooyoung whispered and I couldn’t help but grin at him.

“And you might just be the partner in crime I needed, my Prince.” Wooyoung’s lip twitched up into a handsome smirk and I stepped back embarrassed, our hands finding each other again as our fingers intertwined.

My fate might’ve turned out to be even better than I could’ve ever dreamed of. With a Prince like Wooyoung by my side, I knew success would follow. And perhaps a lifetime of adventure, danger, and mischief. And maybe…an abiding love as well.

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diamonddaze01 · 1 month ago

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The Somerset Affair Chapter 3: Promises Bathed in Moonlight

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.8k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, crying, mentions of a panic attack (not being able to breathe), eventual smut, more to be added a/n: sorry sorry i know ch 3 took forever too lol // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys

summary: maybe you really are well and truly alone.

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here! series masterlist

The First Year: Summer Age 19

The first season after that fateful night was like a hazy dream. When you returned to the social scene, the whispers followed: why had Lord Lee disappeared from your side, so abruptly and publicly, leaving you to stand alone in the wake of his departure?

You endured it with a forced smile, accepting dances from any man who offered. Seokmin, when you saw him, was always nearby yet achingly out of reach, just beyond the edge of the crowd, his gaze never straying to you. Minghao, perhaps sensing the fraught silence between you, would draw you into conversation whenever he could, his manner protective, his eyes wary.

The estate gardens were nothing short of stunning in the late spring. Bursts of red and yellow tulips stretched toward the sky, their vibrant hues softened only by the ivy draping from the nearby trellis. The whole scene was picturesque, brimming with life and warmth. Yet, to you, it held only shadows, echoes of laughter from a time that now felt far away.

You’d meant to pass by quickly, perhaps even avoid the gardens altogether, but the pull was magnetic, the memories nestled there too insistent to ignore. This had been your sanctuary, your haven of whispered secrets and boundless dreams. You had spent countless summer afternoons here with Seokmin, lying on the grass, watching clouds drift lazily by as he teased you with nonsense riddles and ridiculous tales. He’d always made you laugh—those moments had seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with the certainty that nothing would ever change.

But change it had.

Now, as you stood among the tulips, their bright faces tilted toward the sun, you felt as if you were the only one left in shadow. Each flower seemed to mock you, as if asking why you had come back when he was no longer here to share it with you. You could almost hear his laughter in the rustling leaves, a phantom sound that made your heart ache.

You allowed yourself one indulgent moment of memory, one small surrender to the warmth of the past. In that instant, you could almost feel his presence beside you, could almost hear him sigh as he lay back against the grass and urged you to do the same. Tulip, he’d called you once, likening you to the flowers here—delicate, bright, full of life. His voice drifted through your mind like a warm breeze, and you closed your eyes, feeling the bittersweet pang of loss settle deeper into your chest.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the quiet, and you froze. It was the low murmur of a familiar voice—Seokmin’s voice—wafting toward you from the entrance of the garden. You barely made out the words, some easy greeting exchanged with Minghao as the two approached. The cadence of his voice was softer now, more mature perhaps, but unmistakably his. In an instant, the fragile calm you’d managed to summon evaporated, replaced by a panicked urgency to flee.

You turned on your heel, lifting your skirts as you hurried toward a narrow, shaded path, heart pounding as if you were a trespasser in your own sanctuary. You slipped behind the thick ivy-covered trellis, your fingers clutching the delicate lace of your gloves as you pressed your back against the rough wood. There, hidden from sight, you held your breath, willing your heart to quiet, afraid he might hear it even from a distance.

He paused at the garden’s entrance, his voice carrying lightly on the breeze, mingling with the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. It was a voice you had known too well, one that had once woven a thousand dreams in these very gardens. But now, standing there alone and concealed, all you could feel was the sharp edge of those dreams turned to dust.

You dared not look, dared not even breathe until his voice faded and the crunch of gravel beneath his feet grew distant. Only then did you step out from your hiding place, the scene around you as unchanged and pristine as ever. But it felt different, achingly empty. He was gone, and so, you realized, was something inside you.

Your shoulders slumped as you turned away from the gardens, swallowing against the emotion lodged in your throat. You would not come here again—at least, not alone.

That first year passed slowly, the memory of him shadowing you at every event, every garden, every dance, leaving you both haunted and empty.

The Second Year: Autumn Age 20

As autumn arrived, the weight of that lost season faded slightly, turning to something colder, something sharper. You found yourself no longer seeking him out at every ball. Instead, you steeled yourself, donning an unapproachable mask that suited you better with each passing day. Your brother had chosen to spend the season traveling, claiming that the sea salt of Grecian air was calling him. The absence of his protection meant that you had to sail the rough shores of that season alone – Minghao’s letters were frequent and welcomed, always ready to provide words of assurance from thousands of miles away.

Your second season was to be markedly different—by your design and no one else’s. The naive enthusiasm of your first season had faded, replaced by a wariness that had hardened around you like a shell. Suitors still called upon you, though they were fewer and far between, and the gentlemen of impeccable standing, those your mother deemed suitable, grew distant with each passing event. They would approach with polite intentions, murmuring some pleasantry or another, only to bow and make haste to another part of the room where more receptive young ladies waited.

Yet, for all the polite avoidance and empty conversation, there was Lord Yoon Jeonghan, the Viscount of Hastings. He was different—not at all the cold and detached nobleman that society often produced, nor the vapid fop more concerned with his cufflinks than his conversation. He was witty, charming even, and his remarks would often spark a laugh that you could scarcely suppress. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time you spoke, as if you were unraveling a particularly delightful mystery, and for those brief moments, he made you almost forget.

Almost.

You felt his gaze often, lingering in the spaces between words, and sometimes, if you were honest with yourself, it was almost enough to ease the ache that had taken root in your chest. There was a certain warmth to his presence, a lightheartedness that let you slip free from the burdensome weight of the past. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his interest immediately. She seized upon his attentions with thinly veiled glee, her gaze often flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating. She would arrange you beside him at dinners, leave you in his company at the slightest opportunity, her encouragement subtle yet unmistakable.

Jeonghan would lean in close, his words laced with humor, often turning some mundane observation into something absurdly funny. And for a fleeting second, the laughter would come easily, a balm to the bruised and hidden parts of yourself. You allowed yourself to think, Maybe this could work.

But the quiet, hollow ache lingered, a constant reminder of the ghost you could not quite shake. And that ghost was Seokmin.

Seokmin, who watched from across the room, his gaze burning, perceptive as ever. He was polite, distant even, but his presence was always there, like the flicker of candlelight that neither dimmed nor died. You could feel it most keenly when you danced with other men, swirling across the floor to the strains of violins and cellos. Once, as you stepped onto the ballroom floor with Jeonghan, you felt Seokmin’s gaze settle on you from across the room. The intensity of it was enough to make your skin prickle, and suddenly you were painfully aware of every step, every turn.

The first misstep was subtle—a slight stumble over the Viscount’s foot. But as you met Seokmin’s eyes, his brow lifted ever so slightly, a smirk hovering just on the edge of his mouth. That subtle, amused expression set your pulse racing in a way you would never confess. And in your distracted state, you stumbled again, this time nearly losing your balance. Jeonghan chuckled, mistaking your lapse for some charming display of nervousness, too oblivious to realize the true reason for your faltering steps.

Seokmin’s gaze, however, saw straight through you. His smirk was knowing, almost taunting, as though he could see past every mask, every effort you’d put into your newfound resolve. It was maddening—the way he could still get under your skin, the way he seemed to enjoy watching you unravel, even if only for a second. The lingering effects of that look stayed with you long after the music ended, clinging to you like perfume.

And so, you spent the season caught between two worlds. Lord Yoon, with his charm and his lightheartedness, who could ease the bitterness that lay thick upon your heart if only for a while. And Seokmin, a relentless presence, haunting you from across every ballroom and garden, his gaze a tether you could never quite sever. It was a delicate dance, one you performed night after night, hoping, in vain, that one day you would not feel his eyes on you at all.

The afternoon sun angled low over the estate, bathing the drawing room in a cool October light that poured through the high windows, softening the sharp edges of the day. Minghao had just returned from his travels and had brought back a novel he thought you would enjoy—Jane Eyre, by a Miss Brontë. The air was thick with the quiet thrill of this gift, the promise of evenings spent lost in its pages, and you had just begun to express your excitement when Minghao, with his usual calm, announced that Seokmin had accompanied him.

You schooled your face to remain pleasant, though your pulse quickened at the mention of his name. And indeed, there he stood by the door, his posture polite yet tense, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes dark with some unreadable emotion. He offered a slight bow, his gaze fixed on you even as you looked firmly at your brother.

"Did you know," Minghao began, oblivious to the tension in the room as he handed you the book, "that the author published it under a man’s name? Some say it’s because she thought her work would be dismissed otherwise."

You managed a small smile, allowing yourself the momentary reprieve of this topic. “Thank you, Minghao,” you replied, fingers grazing the embossed cover. “I’ll cherish it. It sounds wonderful.”

Across the room, Seokmin shifted, clearing his throat. "Do you find time to read often these days?" His voice was tentative, a hint of hope or maybe familiarity clinging to the question, as if reaching for a bridge long burned.

Your reply was smooth and immediate, though you kept your gaze firmly on Minghao, as if Seokmin had merely been a ghost in the room. "I make time, yes. It’s quite necessary, given the, ah… limited options for conversation."

A faint hint of color rose to Seokmin’s cheeks, but he quickly smothered whatever response he had been about to make. Minghao glanced between you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pieced together the simmering tension, the edges of a puzzle he hadn’t been around to see formed.

There was a brief pause, heavy as stones, before Seokmin tried again. "Do you still ride out to the southern fields? I remember…" He hesitated, his words trailing off before he finished. “The views from the hilltops there were always lovely in the fall.”

It was a simple question, a nod to a pastime you had once enjoyed, but the memories it evoked—the two of you racing across the meadows, laughing breathlessly under the open sky, sharing quiet moments on that hilltop he spoke of—all felt too sharp, too close. You tightened your grip on the book, the rough binding grounding you in the present.

"Occasionally," you murmured, as if speaking to no one in particular. Your tone was clipped, devoid of warmth, and you let the silence stretch, long enough for the weight of his words to fade. After a beat, you forced yourself to stand, smoothing the fabric of your dress as you prepared to excuse yourself. “Please, if you’ll excuse me.”

Seokmin’s face barely shifted, yet the flicker of disappointment that crossed his features was unmistakable. "Wait, please—" he began, his hand reaching out as if to stop you. “I… wanted to know if you might—”

You looked over at Minghao, not giving Seokmin the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. “Thank you for the book, brother,” you said softly. “I’ll look forward to discussing it with you when I’ve read it.” And with that, you turned, leaving the drawing room before Seokmin could finish his thought.

You could feel his eyes on your back, a silent, unyielding weight as you retreated, but you pushed down the churning emotions in your chest.

Later, your mother found you in the library, a faintly exasperated look in her eye. "What has possessed you to act so sharply towards Lord Lee? He is a friend of your brother’s, and a gentleman. I hardly think it was necessary to snub him quite so… thoroughly."

"I simply wasn’t inclined to entertain him," you replied, not lifting your gaze from the book you had barely managed to focus on since leaving the drawing room. “It was not my intention to be rude, Mother.”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “He asked after you very kindly. And if you cannot manage the simple courtesy of conversation, well…” Her sigh was laden with disappointment, tinged with the faintest trace of resignation. “It does make things rather difficult for you, don’t you think?”

You didn’t respond, clamping your lips shut and focusing on the words of Jane Eyre as if they might hold an escape. What could you say? That politeness was a currency you could not afford to spend on him? That every pleasantry only made the knife in your back twist a little deeper?

There was nothing to be done, and so you said nothing at all. The book lay heavy in your lap, unread, as your mother’s gaze lingered a moment longer, her silence more cutting than words.

The Third Year: Winter Age 21

The winter air nipped at every inch of bare skin as you stepped out of the carriage and into the towering, grand hall where that night’s ball was being held. Snow blanketed the world outside, a thick layer that muffled everything it touched, leaving only the crunch of footsteps and the soft murmur of the wind. The frost bit through your gloves, but it was nothing compared to the cold lodged deep within your chest. You drew yourself up and stepped into the hall, a practiced smile on your face as you greeted the hosts and exchanged pleasantries.

Inside, the ball was already in full swing. Laughter and music filled the air, weaving an intoxicating tapestry of distraction. You navigated through clusters of guests with practiced ease, inclining your head and making idle conversation that barely skimmed the surface. You had come to know the routines well, slipping into this role as though it were armor: a mask of charm, a shield of grace. It kept you safe, even as it kept others at arm’s length.

But then, just as you were making your way toward a friend by the window, you spotted him—Seokmin, across the room. He was surrounded by a small group of gentlemen, his laughter carrying over the din as he shared some amusing story. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you’d once adored. For a moment, a whisper of memory drifted to you unbidden—those nights by the garden, his laughter mingling with the soft hum of summer crickets, a harmony you’d taken for granted. The sight of him now, seemingly unaffected by the hollow ache that had lodged itself so firmly within you, twisted something in your chest.

As though he could feel your gaze, his eyes turned toward you, catching you unprepared. His laughter faded, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, regret, perhaps. Or something more resigned, an acceptance of the chasm that had grown between you. He made no move toward you; there was only a slight nod, a silent acknowledgement of… something. You couldn’t name it, and you didn’t want to try.

It was his easy return to conversation that undid you. The way he turned back to his companions, laughing once more, as if nothing had changed, as if the years you’d spent trying to bury the echoes of that ball could be erased so simply. The laughter that once filled you with warmth now rang hollow in your ears, a reminder of all that was lost and all that could never be reclaimed.

The walls of the ballroom began to feel oppressive, the cloying warmth of bodies and perfume suffocating. You pressed a gloved hand to your temple, feigning discomfort as you turned to your nearest acquaintance. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well,” you murmured, a faint tremor in your voice that you hoped was undetectable.

“Oh, my dear, are you all right? You do look rather pale,” she said with concern, her eyes scanning your face. “Perhaps some fresh air?”

“Yes,” you managed, barely holding together the thin fabric of your composure. “Yes, that may be best.”

With a polite smile and promises to catch up at the next event, you drifted toward the doorway, slipping through the crowd as unobtrusively as you could. The cold air in the entry hall was a shock, but you welcomed it, letting it bite into your cheeks and ground you.

Soon enough, you found yourself in your room, finally alone. The silent darkness enveloped you, and for the first time that night, you let yourself drop the mask. You sank into the nearest armchair, clutching the armrests as if they could anchor you. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily past the window, catching the moonlight like shards of glass. There was no warmth, no comfort in the scene, only the lingering shadows of a memory that refused to fade.

You had no energy to reach for a book, nor did you bother lighting the fireplace. Instead, you sat, letting the silence swell around you, filling the empty spaces that had been left in Seokmin’s wake. Your gaze lingered on the frost etching delicate patterns across the glass, and for a moment, you wondered if he was still at the ball, still laughing, still untouched by the winter that had settled so deep within you.

It felt almost foolish to mourn something you had lost so long ago, but as the hours slipped by, you couldn’t bring yourself to shake the feeling.

The bitterness reached new heights that year. Your relationship with Minghao, however, began to shift. He sensed your resolve, noticed the way you shrank from any mention of Seokmin, and quietly took up the role of your champion. He became your shield at social gatherings, a polite, steadfast presence whenever your mother hinted at your dwindling prospects or a suitor left you standing alone. Your mother’s eyes, ever watchful, lingered upon you with a barely hidden concern, her gaze darting to the eligible gentlemen nearby and then to you with that familiar, expectant look.

“You know,” she began in a low voice, “if you were only a touch more… approachable, it might encourage the young men here to consider you more seriously.”

You forced a small smile, the words heavy and stale from years of repetition. “I’ll do my best, Mama.”

But before she could respond, a familiar voice joined the conversation.

“Ah, I see my sister is charming everyone tonight,” Minghao remarked smoothly as he appeared beside you, offering a short bow to your mother. “May I borrow her for a moment?”

Your mother’s gaze softened—she had never worried over Minghao as she did with you, and his title afforded him some measure of leniency that you could never claim. She nodded, though her expression remained faintly expectant as she watched you both step away.

Minghao led you toward the edge of the ballroom, his arm steady around yours as you wove through the crowd. Once there, he turned to you with a look that spoke of both amusement and concern.

“You looked ready to flee,” he observed, a trace of a smile in his eyes. “Would you like a few minutes’ reprieve?”

You sighed, grateful for his intervention. “I was beginning to feel like a prized cow at market,” you replied, tone dry. “Thank you for sparing me.”

He chuckled softly, but his expression grew more serious as he studied you. “I noticed Mother watching you rather closely. And I know her remarks can be… persistent.”

“Persistent is a kind way of putting it,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper. “She insists that my chances dwindle each season, that—” You cut yourself off, pressing your lips together to hold back the frustration that threatened to spill over.

Minghao’s gaze softened, and he sighed, reaching out to adjust the lace of your cuff in a gentle, brotherly gesture. “You’ve nothing to prove to her or to anyone else here,” he said quietly. “If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll be here to see you through the night.”

Despite the stifling heat of the ballroom, his presence felt like a breath of fresh air—a lifeline against the unrelenting pressure of society and its expectations.

“And if any gentleman dares to turn his back on you tonight,” he added, his voice adopting a playful lilt, “I shall personally see to it that he regrets it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted into a small, appreciative smile. Minghao’s protectiveness was a comfort you rarely admitted to needing, but tonight, you couldn’t help feeling grateful that he saw past your composed exterior to the worry lingering beneath.

The music shifted to a slower waltz, and he extended his hand with a knowing smile. “Shall we dance, sister? A waltz is far more agreeable than enduring Mother’s lectures, I assure you.”

You accepted his hand, letting him lead you to the center of the room. As you twirled together, the swirling silks and laughter around you faded into the background, leaving only the familiar warmth of his presence.

After a moment, he leaned in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “And for what it’s worth,” he murmured, “you have no need of any of these foppish gentlemen. They should consider themselves lucky if they could win even a passing glance from you.”

The sincerity in his words soothed you, and for a brief moment, the ballroom was no longer a daunting place, nor its occupants a source of anxiety. Minghao’s quiet strength steadied you, his steadfast support as dependable as the rhythm of the waltz beneath your feet.

Yet, even with Minghao’s silent support, Seokmin’s laughter ringing through the ballroom haunted you, echoing a reminder of what you once had and what you had lost.

Across the room, your gaze flickered to a familiar figure, the Lord Viscount Yoon, the lightness of his presence breaking through your somber thoughts. He had been different—his clever banter had a way of making even the most mundane topics feel lively and engaging. When he spoke, it was as if he was inviting you into an exclusive circle of shared secrets and laughter, making you momentarily forget the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

Even now, he stood amidst a group of gentlemen, engaging in light banter that sent ripples of laughter through the crowd. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time he caught your gaze, but he looked away just as quickly, as if your newfound prickly attitude was enough to scare him away.

Over time, your disinterest had made him less willing to approach you. Though he had shown interest the previous year, the glow in his eyes now held a tinge of uncertainty, as if he had begun to doubt whether your heart remained open to him. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his hesitance, her gaze flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating.

“Perhaps if I were a bit more approachable,” you murmured to Minghao, who nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward Jeonghan.

“Sometimes, it takes more than just approachability,” he replied quietly. “He is a good man, but the more you withdraw, the more he may think he should step back.”

You let the thought linger in your mind, but it was soon drowned out by the sight of Seokmin across the room, leaning in to laugh politely with another woman, a vision of laughter and ease that made your heart twist painfully. The vibrant atmosphere of the ball blurred around you, filled with the laughter of others while your own heart sank, caught between the past and the possibility of a future—one you feared might never be yours again.

The Fourth Year: Spring Age 22

Spring came late that year, but the blossoms in the garden were the most vibrant you had ever seen. Tulips, bright and full of life, lined the path outside your drawing room window. Their sight brought an unwelcome reminder of Seokmin, as if they were mocking the pain that had dulled over the years but never truly healed.

One fateful morning, Seokmin arrived at the estate again, waiting for Minghao in the drawing room. You entered the room unaware of his presence, intending to retrieve a letter you had left on the table. The shock of finding him there, standing alone, was enough to root you to the spot.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. “How have you been?” he asked, breaking the silence, his tone formal but softened by something more vulnerable.

“I try to stay busy,” you replied, refusing to meet his gaze, your own fixed on the tulips outside the window, as if they alone could fortify your resolve. The way they leaned toward the glass, reaching out, seemed a cruel reminder of what you could never reach. You clung to your indifference, fearing that one look at him would undo you.

“Ah,” he replied, his voice barely a murmur. “I see.”

The silence was unbearable, stretching long and wide between you, filled with all the words you had left unsaid. For the first time, you could sense his unease, as though he, too, felt the weight of everything that had come between you. You imagined he might say more, but instead, he fell silent, unwilling or unable to breach the chasm.

When Minghao finally entered the room, his gaze shifted from Seokmin to you, sensing the tension immediately. He offered a warm, lighthearted greeting that brought some relief, yet you felt exposed, as though Seokmin could still see every last flicker of pain beneath your carefully controlled exterior. Minghao’s easy conversation filled the room, and you seized on it as a lifeline, grateful that the moment had passed.

But as you left the drawing room, something inside you felt irrevocably changed. The wound you thought had healed now ached anew, as raw and fresh as ever.

Age 22

The season has turned again, and as you step into the grand ballroom, you are met with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that fill the air with an electric energy. The chandelier overhead sparkles like a constellation of stars, its crystal droplets refracting the warm glow of candlelight that dances across the room. The polished wooden floors gleam underfoot, reflecting the vivid hues of the gowns that swirl around you like petals caught in a gentle breeze.

After five seasons on the market, the whispers of society have cast you in the role of a spinster. No longer the young debutante brimming with promise, you now find yourself almost a chaperone to the eager, wide-eyed debutantes navigating their first seasons. Your newest charge, Sohee, is a whirlwind of youthful exuberance, her bright pink dress adorned with intricate floral appliqués that seem to bloom against her pale skin. The bodice sparkles with tiny beads, catching the light as she twirls, her laughter ringing like bells. You can see the nervous energy in her movements, the way her hands flutter as she points out various gentlemen across the ballroom.

“Oh, look at Lord Lee—what a fine dancer!” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with excitement as she gazes at Seokmin. His deep navy jacket contrasts sharply with the pristine white of his shirt, and the cravat around his neck is tied with an effortless elegance that only enhances his charm. The way he carries himself, relaxed and confident, seems to draw the attention of everyone around him.

You try to mask the bitterness rising within you as you observe him. Seokmin entertains Sohee’s infatuated chatter with polite smiles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. For a fleeting moment, you are grateful that she has captured his attention, but then the weight of your own feelings crashes over you like a cold wave. The ache in your chest deepens as memories flood your mind—long summers spent chasing fireflies, laughter echoing through the fields as he playfully pursued you with a worm on a stick, or the way he would reward your sharp tongue with that unguarded, carefree laughter.

As if drawn by some invisible thread, Seokmin’s gaze suddenly shifts, catching yours from across the room. Your heart leaps into your throat, a jolt of surprise and embarrassment coursing through you. Mortified that he has noticed your lingering stare, you quickly avert your eyes, but the warmth of your cheeks betrays you. You want to disappear into the vibrant crowd, to escape the intensity of your emotions that seem to swell with every passing second. Yet, even as you force yourself to engage with Sohee’s exuberant chatter, you can feel the weight of Seokmin’s gaze resting on you, a silent reminder of everything you’ve lost and the connection you once shared.

It is a cruel twist of fate, standing on the sidelines while young girls like Sohee chase the dreams you once held so dear. You find yourself in this role, a guide for the naive and hopeful, all the while wishing that you could feel that same thrill of possibility. The grand ballroom, alive with laughter and music, feels both enchanting and suffocating, each dance a reminder of the joys that have slipped through your fingers.

As the music swells and couples begin to sway across the polished floor, you catch glimpses of Sohee and Seokmin amidst the swirling gowns and dapper jackets. They move with an innocent delight that contrasts starkly with the weight of your unspoken feelings. Sohee beams up at him, her laughter bright and infectious, and for a moment, the sight softens the edges of your heartache.

Just then, you feel a presence beside you, and when you turn, you find Viscount Yoon Jeonghan standing there, a knowing smile dancing on his lips. His appearance is as striking as ever; his tailored coat hugs his frame perfectly, and the delicate embroidery along the cuffs catches the light, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His hair falls elegantly around his face, framing those sharp features that always seem to hold a hint of mischief.

“They make quite a pair, do they not?” he murmurs, his voice smooth and warm as he gestures subtly toward the young couple. His eyes sparkle with a mix of humor and curiosity, and for a moment, you’re reminded of the lighthearted conversations you once shared, the way he could lift your spirits without even trying.

You glance back at Sohee and Seokmin, your heart twisting at the sight of them. “It seems so,” you reply, your tone nonchalant, though the bitterness seeps through. “She is quite taken with him.”

Jeonghan’s gaze lingers on the two, but then shifts back to you, an amused glimmer in his eyes. “And yet, I believe it’s Seokmin’s charm that keeps her so enchanted. He has a way of making everyone feel special, does he not?” His words are light, but there’s an underlying sincerity that pulls you in.

“Especially the younger ones,” you add, your voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. You cross your arms, an instinctive barrier against the swell of emotions threatening to break free. Jeonghan tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes you self-conscious.

“Ah, but don’t let that dampen your spirits,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I suspect that there’s still magic left in your own waltz.”

You scoff softly, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I’ve had my dance, my Lord. It’s only right that I help guide the next generation.”

He nods, as if he understands more than you’ve revealed. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little bit of the spotlight yourself, does it?” His gaze holds yours for a moment longer, an invitation hanging in the air between you.

Taking a deep breath, you accept his invitation with a gentle nod. Jeonghan extends his hand, and with a sense of determination, you place yours in his. The moment you step onto the dance floor, a familiar spark ignites between you. As you move, you find the rhythm of the waltz is an intoxicating escape from the weight of the evening.

His touch is confident yet gentle, guiding you with an ease that sends warmth through your veins. You laugh softly at his playful quips, the way he effortlessly spins you and twirls you beneath the glimmering chandelier. The surrounding laughter and chatter fade into a soft background hum as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment.

But just as you begin to forget the lingering ache in your heart, a commotion draws your attention away. You glance over to find Sohee in an animated conversation with Seokmin, her eyes wide with excitement. She appears to be swooning—her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink as she clutches her fan, fluttering it in the air as if to cool herself.

And then it happens. As the waltz concludes and the music reaches its crescendo, Seokmin leans down to retrieve Sohee's fan, which had slipped from her grasp in her flurry of emotion. The way he effortlessly picks it up and hands it back to her is undeniably charming. She gazes up at him with unrestrained adoration, and in that moment, it’s as if the entire ballroom falls silent, the air thick with their connection.

Your heart sinks, the joyous moment turning into a bitter reminder of your own unfulfilled longing. You feel the weight of your own feelings crashing down, suffocating the lightness of the dance you just shared with Jeonghan. The innocence of Sohee’s crush, her delight at Seokmin’s attention, stabs at something deep within you, twisting the knife of your heartache just a little deeper.

“Lord Lee is such a gentleman,” Sohee breathes, her eyes sparkling with admiration. You try to smile, but the corners of your mouth feel heavy, the happiness you should feel for her overshadowed by the ache in your chest.

“Quite the pair, indeed,” Jeonghan murmurs beside you, his tone shifting slightly. You glance up at him, but the amusement in his eyes has dimmed, replaced with a knowing sympathy that only intensifies your discomfort.

“I should—” you start, desperate to escape the scene unfolding before you, but Jeonghan catches your gaze, his expression serious yet gentle.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, concern lacing his voice.

You swallow hard, nodding even though you can feel the tears threatening to brim. “Yes, of course. It’s just… a reminder of what I’ve lost.”

Jeonghan’s eyes soften, understanding radiating from him. “Then let’s step outside for a moment, shall we? A breath of fresh air might do you good.”

You nod again, grateful for his presence, and together you slip away from the dancing couples, leaving behind the laughter and music, hoping the cool night air will ease the weight on your heart. As you step outside, the crisp night air envelops you like a silken shawl, drawing you away from the swirling gaiety of the ballroom. The coolness is a welcome reprieve from the warmth of bodies and laughter, and you relish the soft caress of the breeze against your skin, bringing with it a gentle rustling of leaves that whispers secrets from the garden. The scent of blooming jasmine and sweet honeysuckle mingles in the air, heady and intoxicating, wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace.

You move to the stone balcony, where the moon hangs low in the sky, its silvery glow spilling over the manicured gardens below, illuminating the delicate petals of the flowers that sway gently in the evening light. The grass is cool beneath your feet, a delightful contrast to the warmth of your silk gown, and you can feel the slight dampness of dew beginning to settle on the earth, a reminder of the approaching night.

Fidgeting with the lace hem of your gown, you feel the fabric whisper against your ankles, the soft silk cool to the touch. Your heart races as you catch sight of Jeonghan stepping out to join you, his tall frame silhouetted against the glow of the moonlight. He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You love him,” he states matter-of-factly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” You turn to him, surprise etched across your features. Your fingers tighten around the delicate lace, twisting it nervously as if it could shield you from his piercing gaze.

“It is nothing to shy away from,” he continues, his tone surprisingly earnest. “I have observed the two of you for years, engaging in this delightful dance around each other. You love him. That is a fact. Do not shy away from it—love is a beautiful thing, even if it is tinged with loss.”

You force a laugh, the sound almost bitter. “You sound as though you speak from experience.”

“And if I am?” Jeonghan counters, his brow arching slightly, inviting you to delve deeper into the conversation.

“Why, then,” you reply, your heart racing with a mixture of intrigue and dread, “it cannot be that only my secrets are shared tonight.”

“Lady Choi,” he says, the shift in his tone unmistakable, as though he is unearthing a long-buried truth.

“The general’s wife?” you ask, the name escaping your lips with an air of disbelief.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, the lightness of the evening is overshadowed by the weight of his admission. “She was mine first,” he admits, his voice heavy with unspoken emotion. “But her father—he was a cruel man—wished to marry her off before I ever had the chance to court her properly, as adults.”

You draw a sharp breath, the air suddenly feeling thick and heavy around you. “Lord Yoon, it is a sin to desire another man’s wife,” you say softly, your fingers trembling slightly as they continue to play with the delicate fabric of your gown.

“And it is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours,” he replies, a note of melancholy creeping into his voice. “It seems we are both trapped in a most unfortunate dilemma, Miss Xu.”

You hesitate, the truth of his words resonating within you like the toll of a distant bell. You find yourself gazing at the garden below, the moonlight casting long shadows across the path. “I… suppose.”

His expression softens, the tension between you easing slightly as he steps closer, the distance shrinking as if the night conspires to bring you together. “I have an idea, if you are amenable to it,” he proposes, his voice low and conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piquing despite the tumult of your thoughts. “I suppose I have no choice but to hear it.”

“Let us… have an arrangement of sorts.”

Your mind races, the absurdity of the suggestion both ludicrous and strangely enticing. “An… arrangement?” you repeat, incredulous, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“A loveless marriage is better than none at all,” he declares, his eyes glinting with a mixture of seriousness and mischief.

You laugh, unable to contain yourself. “You jest. Have you indulged in more champagne than you can manage?”

“I assure you, I am as clear-headed as the sky on a summer’s day,” he insists, maintaining eye contact with a steady gaze that makes your heart flutter. “We are friends, are we not?”

“Friends? My lord, we have danced a few times, to my mother’s delight,” you reply, a teasing lilt in your voice, though your heart feels heavier with the weight of his words.

He feigns a look of mock hurt, placing a hand theatrically over his heart. “You wound me! We have enjoyed such spirited conversations! I do consider you a friend. And a marriage with a friend—a viscount at that—is nothing to scoff at. Have you given no thought to your future? What happens when your dear brother finds a wife and you are no longer his primary concern?”

The reality of his words settles over you, sending a shiver down your spine. You search the moonlit path, pondering the path that lies ahead. “Just… think about it,” he presses, his voice earnest, the night seemingly holding its breath.

The silence stretches between you, the world around you fading as you consider the proposal. You raise your gaze to his, a flurry of emotions swirling in your heart.

But as the moment hangs in the air, he steps back, creating a chasm of space between you once more. The hope in his eyes flickers like the stars above, illuminating the path of unspoken possibilities.

With a lingering glance, Jeonghan turns to leave, the quiet night reclaiming its stillness. Alone now, you stand beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, a companion that seems to mock your predicament, its light dancing across your skin like a playful breeze. The weight of the evening settles around you, the possibilities of what could have been lingering like a sweet perfume in the air. The garden around you, fragrant and alive, seems to echo your turmoil, the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of crickets a reminder that you are not as alone as you feel—but still, the loneliness wraps around you like a heavy cloak, suffocating and inescapable.

The Queen’s Garden is even more stunning at twilight, an exquisite tapestry of flora bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Lanterns hang from the branches of ancient trees, casting a warm glow that mingles with the fading daylight, creating a magical ambiance that enchants every guest present. Lush greenery and blooming flowers adorn the paths, their fragrant scents—jasmine, roses, and honeysuckle—drifting through the air like a sweet serenade.

As you weave your way through the throngs of elegantly dressed nobles, the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth radiating from the lively crowd. The sounds of laughter and spirited conversation wrap around you, punctuated by the delicate notes of a string quartet nestled among the trees, their melodies intertwining with the soft rustle of leaves overhead.

Amidst the gaiety, you scan the faces around you, searching for Sohee. Her absence hangs like a whisper, pulling at your awareness.

Just then, your gaze lands on Lord Yoon Jeonghan, standing across the garden. His tall frame commands attention, and as you meet his eyes, he offers you a teasing wink, a smirk dancing on his lips. He raises his glass in a casual salute, a playful reminder of the “arrangement” he proposed only weeks prior.

But as you turn to continue your search, you hear a soft rustle behind the curtains of the powder room. A frown creases your brow, and with a sense of trepidation, you pull the curtains aside.

What you find steals the breath from your lungs: Sohee, her dress slightly askew, caught in an intimate embrace with Seokmin, hidden from view. Time seems to freeze as you process the scene before you, the vibrant colors of the garden fading into a blur.

They don’t notice your entrance, the warmth of their laughter drifting toward you, blissfully unaware of the precariousness of their moment. A wave of urgency washes over you; you step back, the laughter and music of the ball dimming behind you, overwhelmed by the tension in the air.

The cool mask of indifference you wear feels like a fragile façade, barely holding up against the storm of emotions roiling within you. Every heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythmic reminder of the tension crackling in the air. You force yourself to breathe slowly, deliberately, the sweet scent of blooming flowers mingling with the sharp tang of night air filling your lungs.

You clear your throat, breaking the stillness that envelops the hidden corner where Sohee and Seokmin stand. Your posture is straight, your chin lifted, but your palms feel clammy against the lace of your gown.

“Sohee,” you say, your voice steady and cool, as though dipped in ice, “you should return to your Mama. If anyone else had seen you like this, it would ruin you.” The words hang in the air, each syllable heavy with consequence. You hold her gaze, your eyes fierce, willing her to understand the gravity of the situation.

Sohee’s eyes widen, vulnerability flickering across her face like candlelight. The flush staining her cheeks deepens as she processes your words, a mixture of mortification and gratitude washing over her. She nods, biting her lip, and you watch as she slips past you, shoulders squared despite the embarrassment, grateful for your discretion.

Once she disappears back into the sea of guests, the atmosphere shifts. It’s just you and Seokmin now, the weight of the moment pressing down like a thick fog, the sounds of the ballroom fading into a dull roar. For the first time in years, you stand alone with him, the years of silence and distance palpable between you.

You turn to leave, the flutter of your gown trailing behind you, but his voice stops you, soft and tentative, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Please, don’t go.”

You whirl around, disbelief etched across your features. “Why on earth? What are you doing here?” Your heart pounds, and your fists clench at your sides, the intensity of the moment clawing at your composure.

He takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking, but the space feels charged with electricity. The use of that name—“tulip”—falls from his lips like a spark igniting a fire inside you. Anger bubbles to the surface, your fingers curling into fists. “You have no right to call me that anymore.”

His expression shifts, desperation creeping into his tone as he opens his palms, a gesture of vulnerability. “It’s been four years, and you still won’t give me the chance to explain myself.”

Your chest tightens at the memories, sharp and unyielding, a storm of emotions swirling within you. “So was it because Minghao told you to?”

His gaze darkens, the flicker of regret visible in his eyes. “Yes, but you need to—”

“Good evening, Seokmin.” The words slip from your mouth like ice, cold and final. You turn to leave, your back straight but your heart racing, and he reaches for you, fingers brushing against your arm like a whisper.

You jerk away, anger and hurt surging through you, the fabric of your dress catching in the air as you turn. “Please, stay,” he begs, his voice thick with emotion, almost desperate. “Stay and let me explain—”

You shake your head slowly, each word heavy with the weight of unspoken history. “You lost the right to that four years ago.” Your voice softens, but the resolve behind it remains, a quiet storm ready to break. In a flurry of lace and silk, you turn on your heel, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the thick grass as you leave him standing there, a distant silhouette against the vibrant backdrop of the garden.

The night air feels cooler as you weave through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. You seek solace in the bustling ballroom, where laughter and music swirl around you, a cacophony that drowns out the echo of your heartache. The warmth of the candles flickers against your skin, the soft glow momentarily comforting amidst the chaos.

The crowd shifts around you, a blur of color and laughter, but everything feels muted—distant—as you navigate back toward the main hall. Your heart still pounds, each beat a reminder of the encounter that lingers, bitter as smoke. And then, across the room, a familiar pair of eyes finds yours: Jeonghan. His gaze is intent, assessing, and as he raises his glass to you with an amused smirk, his words from weeks before echo in your mind: “It is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours.”

The decision is instant, unbidden, like the snap of a thread pulled too tight. Steeling yourself, you weave through the crowd toward him, your mind clearing with each step. Jeonghan turns slightly as you approach, his attention shifting from the men he’d been conversing with. You stop just a breath away, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you, even as laughter and chatter fill the air.

“My lord,” you say, voice steady as a blade.

He raises an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Miss Xu?” His eyes gleam in the low light, the gold of the candle flames reflecting in them. “I must say, you look rather lovely in this garden.”

“Yes.” The word is simple, yet it feels like a vow, a quiet certainty.

His smile falters for just a second, replaced by a glimmer of surprise in his eyes before he quickly recovers. He leans in slightly, his voice softened but no less intent.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice calm but resolute. “I shall marry you.”

Jeonghan’s expression settles into something unreadable, a flicker of surprise replaced by the slightest tilt of a smile. He inclines his head, the elegant motion drawing him closer, as though sealing the moment between you.

“A wise decision, Miss Xu,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. The sounds of the garden around you blur into silence, the perfume of roses and night-blooming jasmine heavy on the air, and though the world presses on with its merriment, this quiet promise, made in the hush of the queen’s garden, feels irrevocable.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits@moondustmemories@shinwonderful@ivehypnosis@gwend0lyne@thestoryofana13@mellowamour@blissedjoon@begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld @archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange @uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

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trivia-yandere · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! I love the stories you guys write! Thank you for taking the time to write. I’m not sure if you’re still taking requests, but I was wondering if you could write king jungkook/jimin tying princess reader up to the bed and having his way with her and it’s her first time. She has to marry him now. Thank you again!

so i followed most of what you sent, with a little twist :) i hope what we came up with is enjoyable

word is bond

in order to save your kingdom from perishing, you agree to give your body to the demon king - jimin. @chimmy-licious @bangtans-momma @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @darkuni63

word count: 5.142

warning: unsolicited touching/groping/biting/grinding, blood, voyeurism, public humiliation/degradation, oral (f receiving), throat fucking, yandere tendencies, finger sucking, dark themes, sadism, compulsion, riding, creampie, violence, multiple character deaths, manipulation, mind break,

halloween masterlist | alternate universe masterlist

The castle walls are tall, towering hundreds of feet above you. The throne room is bright - pentagon shaped windows shining the early morning sun into the throne room. You saunter down the marble floor, the heels of your boots clicking against it. Your royal attire is made to attract attention - and to separate you from the townspeople, of course. The royal jacket is larger than you’d like, but plated in gold, fur lined around the collar of it. Your skirt drags along the floor as does the cape you wore.

You can feel the eyes of the townspeople, behind a mountain of guards, on you. You keep your eyes straight ahead on the throne, the large elevated seat that you once dreamed of sitting upon.

You made your way to the throne chair, a guard assisting you upon the elevated surface. You look back at the large crowd, so many people in such a closed off room - all of which are here for you. Your heart feels heavy with joy knowing that your people were here to witness you be crowned as Queen.

Your eyes caught with your brother - the former King. He’s seated at the far right of the large throne room, an emotionless look in his eyes. He doesn’t smile your way when your eyes meet, but you aren’t surprised. You cannot recall the last time your brother smiled at you, maybe back before he was crowned as King once the death of your parents; and that was many years ago.

The crowd begins to clap and cheer once they witness Haneul, an old soldier who once fought alongside your father and now stood as a mentor, lift the crown high above your head. The crown is gold, several circle ornaments displayed upon it with several different gemstones and diamonds upon it. A smile forms onto your lips when you feel the crown be placed upon your head.

“All hail the Queen!” Haneul says, voice boisterous and loud so all of the crowd could hear.

You bow your head slightly to the crowd, eyes roaming to all faces of the people - your people.

Once again, your eyes meet those of your brother. You aren’t upset that he doesn’t appear cheerful - after all, the throne was overthrown and now you took his spot as ruler. However, there's a tint in his eyes that you cannot understand.

Your elder brother had been King for years now, nearing a decade since the death of your father a year after your mother. He wasn’t married, and still hasn't found a wife to call Queen. He was always a busy man, becoming a soldier once he was of age, working his way up to lieutenant, sergeant and so on.

The death of your father came sudden, and your brother was crowned King a week after. You saw the once youthful look turn to one full of stress and disdain. His expression turned emotionless overtime, appearing completely far gone.

Your brother was once loved as a Prince, but became hated as a King. He became tyrannical once he was in power, no longer valuing the townspeople's needs or wants. He was now responsible for the suffering of the same people, forcing working hours to increase, along with tax becoming nearly unreasonable. Anyone who rebelled against your brother was arrested, sended to an underground confinement - and likely to die.

What caused the rebellion against your brother had you at the forefront of it all. You had begged your brother to stop his madness, that it wasn’t like him to be such a cruel individual. You had stormed past guards and elite soldiers to get to your brother, in his hands a gun pointed straight at a man. Guards are attempting to hold back a forming mod, all protesting the life of the man who your brother held a gun at.

You’d never forget that day your brother had made you decide the fate of the man. Princes or Princesses never had the authority over a King or Queen’s decision. “I allow you to live a good life in the palace, sister.” your brother stated. “But since you are too stubborn to mind the business of a Princess, then I’ll allow you to make a decision of a Queen just this once.”

The life of the angry mod - nearly 100 - or the life of the man was in your power to decide. You had refused, shaking your head at the thought of it. The man didn’t deserve to die, he was just one of the first to go against your brother's harsh ruling, the mob following soon after in protest.

“You’d be a weak Queen, sister.” was your brother's final words to you after he killed the man and detained the angry mod in confinement.

“Sister.”

It was now evening, the townspeople all guided out of the palace. It’s eerily silent inside the castle, even the guards don’t appear to speak much.

You sit inside of your study - the same that once belonged to your father and brother while they ruled. Your arms are crossed as you look upon your brother. He leans against a large bookshelf, dark eyes on you.

“Brother.”

Haneul observed the pair of you with a sigh. He was such a close friend to your father, he was there when the two of you were born nearly a decade apart. He was seen as a mentor when you both needed him to be, or a friend if it was that. Witnessing your brother become a complete tyrant wasn’t something anyone expected, but neither was the fall of love the two shared as siblings.

“Congratulations on becoming Queen.” your brother steps away from the bookshelf, hands behind his back. “You’ve surprised me by holding a sword in front of you so threateningly.”

Your brother’s teasing. He had scoffed when you had come, stating that he had no business being the King if he couldn’t run it without causing such fear upon the people.

“I have given you the title as Queen willingly. To think my own flesh and blood would betray me in such a way.” your brother hisses with a shake of his head, dark hair flowing around him.

“You became a tyrant!” you hiss, slamming your hands onto the table. “You were never a leader or a King, brother. You became someone that not even I knew.”

“I’ve done whatever to assure your safety most importantly, sister.” your brother stalks towards you, a malice look in his eye. “I’ve done everything with good reason.”

“Good reason?” you scoff. “Murdering our own people is a good reason, brother? Forcing them to work such cruel hours and raising the prices of taxes and rent is a good reason?”

You shake your head. You had no need to listen further to your brother's ramblings.

Haneul steps between the pair of you with raised hands. “Let’s attempt to remain calm.” he says with a warning tone.

“No.” your brother hisses. “Since my dear sister believes that I am nothing but a tyrant, how about I tell you the truth.”

You knit your brows at your brother.

“There’s a reason we do not get out of our Kingdom's walls and why they are so high, sister. You’ve been told countless folklore of the mountains that surround us and just how we are to not step foot from the gates - especially at night?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod your head slightly. There was never a need to question the elder people in your lives who told you how dangerous outside the walls were. The townspeople remained inside, living comfortably in their own homes. Schools, sanctuaries and factories remained inside the Kingdom grounds, surrounding the castle you resided in. There was enough food to be had between the townspeople and the royals - farmers growing the best vegetables and raising livestock and all.

“There’s a reason for this, sister.” your brother continues. “I had good reason to become the way I am. Haneul, you were one of several survivors that fought the darkness that are outside our Kingdom walls decades ago while our grandfather reigned. You understand the threat we face day by day.”

Haneul nods slowly, eyes glancing at you.

“What darkness?” you question, leaning closer to your desk.

“Women are not allowed in the army, sister, and thus you have no true reason to understand just what we are raised to fight outside the Kingdom walls. We have been able to slain such darkness for decades until a new threat came upon.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise at your brother's words.

“I’ve come face to face to a new threat, a King such as myself, of this darkness.”

Haneul is the first to react, his eyes widening at your brother's words. “Impossible.”

“I tell no lies, Haneul.” your brother shrugs. “It seems as though us slaying the lower demons were just a distraction for the King to rise into power once more.”

Demon?

“W-What-”

“Your grandfather has slain the King back in his reign. I’ve watched-”

Haneul is interrupted by your brother once more. He waves the older man off with a huff. “He was never slain, Haneul. He killed all of my men that came with me years ago and left me as the sole survivor.”

You gasp at the words.

You recall the time your brother was brought in several wounded after returning, but you were not given a direct answer to what had happened. The sight of the blood stained floors had haunted you for weeks on end.

“What exactly are you saying, brother? What darkness is threatening us?” you try your best to not appear frightened, but it’s impossible.

Your brother - after all these years - wore an expression. That of sadness…fear.It’s as though you can finally let his guard down and tell you what he was feeling; allow everything in his mind to fall right into your lap.

“The demon King was never dead, Haneul. He was unable to seek his revenge for he was wounded, which is why he had his own army to do so. But in the last few years, he’s grown stronger by the day. He warned me that we would be coming to take over our Kingdom and get revenge on the very people he managed to defeat him temporarily.”

Your brother's eyes never leave yours.

“You and I, sister, are who he wants dead. He left me alive just to spread the word - that or this is all a game to him.” your brother’s voice cracks - one that was once so deep and stern, now has a whimper to it. He can finally break the wall he has put up, but at what cause?

“I did what I had to do to raise an army to fight this darkness, sister. Haneul. I needed the townspeople working constantly on our weapons, armory and anything else we needed to fight them off. We needed the money to bring in outside sources from down the mountains if need be.”

“Brother…” Why didn’t he tell you?

“All the sacrifices I made, sister, was to not only protect the Kingdom, but to protect you.” your brother turns away from you. He was your elder brother and right before your father’s death, he had promised that you would always be out of harm's way. “You told me that you’d never forgive me for the tyrant I’ve become, sister. And that was the risk I was willing to take if it meant you’d remained alive.”

“What is a Queen willing to do in order to protect her Kingdom?” is what the demon had asked you.

“Anything.” is what you told him.

Your brother had told you that soon - maybe within the next five months - that darkness would take over your Kingdom and that was the reason he became completely tyrannical. You now understood why he became so harsh, why he needed such a large amount of money to supply weapons and armor; even if you didn’t completely agree with his reasoning.

You were now Queen and the Kingdom and the townspeople needed you to be there for them. Against Haneul and your brothers wishes, you made your way out of the large Kingdom’s walls, assuring to close the gate behind you. You never been outside the Kingdom, walking down the dark path towards the forested area - you never had a reason to, either. The moon is high and shining bright and you’re thankful that it gives you enough light to see where you were going.

Though you were never raised to fight in the imperial army, you were trained in combat and how to protect yourself if need be - you just hoped that what you were taught was enough if you came across whatever darkness was out there.

You’re unsure how long you’ve walked the dirt path and yet, you’ve found nothing. Your plan was something you weren’t sure of yourself - find the darkness and what? Fight them off yourself?

Your head snaps to the left, instantly, you grab your dagger to defend yourself. Before you can do anything to defend yourself from any attacker, you feel your feet being lifted from the ground and the side of your body throbbing in pain.

You’re at a loss of breath, chest heaving while your heart is beating erratically. Your back is pressed firmly against a tree, your hand clenches along your ribcage.

“I’ve never seen a woman out this late.”

The voice is sinister and you do not see who it belongs to at first. Your vision is blurred and you’re doing everything in your power to focus on your surroundings.

Footsteps, you hear them coming. Your eyes slowly become wider when they capture the thing in front of you - was this the demon your brother spoke of? Part of the darkness that was going to take over the Kingdom?

The demon is tall, you note. Its eyes are dark and appear to have no irises. It’s covered in hair and its spine is curved. You recall the tales you heard when you were younger from your brother of werewolves, but this cannot be that - right?

You raise your dagger, the light from the moon flashing the demon right into the eye. You gulp just as the demon lunges.

You scream upon feeling something slash along your cheek, but you were determined to win this fight. Your dagger comes down onto the demon's shoulder as it gets closer to you, and your feet kicks it away from you, but to no avail. You feel your royal attire being ripped, your jacket going first.

To think you survived this long without truly knowing the truth of the darkness that plagues the forest and mountains outside your kingdom - lived long enough to become Queen.

To now possibly die before finding a way to fight for your Kingdom long enough.

Your clothing is ruined, near shreds when you hear a high pitched scream come from the demon before you. It begins to burn before your eyes. Your hand immediately touches your cheek, the warm blood oozes onto your fingers.

“You…”

You cannot see anything surrounding you - or whoever the voice belongs to. There's a breeze in the air now and it causes you to shiver due to your shattered clothing.

There’s a force pulling you by your hair. Your hands reach out to try to get whatever it was off of you, but you’re shocked to feel your clothes being ripped, as well. You struggle against the unseen force, your thighs being pulled apart.

“I’ve yet to see a woman out of the Kingdom.” The voice speaks once more. “Until now. And not just any woman…” you’re shocked to feel a wet sensation upon your cheek. “...the Queen.”

Your clothes - though shattered - are completely off of your body. You’re left in nothing but undergarments and chest binding, and soon the bandage bindings are off of you, as well. You feel disgusted with the unseen’s force hands upon your skin, touching and groping.

You feel a pair of lips kiss down your bare skin, the wind blowing erratically around you. The unseen force places kisses upon your neck, down to your collarbone, breast to your stomach. There’s goosebumps littering your skin, the foreign sensation disgusting you - more so because you feel a pool of pleasure between your legs.

“What is a Queen doing outside her kingdom?” the force asks.

“The King…” you trail off, just as you feel hands tug at your undergarments, the cotton clothed that is the only piece of dignity you had left. “I-I need to see him…”

You force stops and for a moment, you begin to think that you’ve hallucinated. You go to cover your breast, chest heaving as you breathe.

You close your eyes for a moment to capture your breath, and once you open them you’re startled.

“You’ve come out of your Kingdom to see me, Queen?” the man's voice is the same as the unseen force - low and sultry, a hint of taunt in his voice.

The man appears human, tan and smooth skin with dark hair with matching dark eyes. His lips are plush, pink and full.

You feel as though you’re hallucinating once more. The man is right where the unseen force had been, now instead he’s pinning you down. You feel far too exposed for his eyes and unsolicited hands wandering.

“Usually I kill whoever comes so deep into the mountains…” the man's nails are long as he trails them down your cheek. You feel the cut on your cheek begin to burn and you winch slightly. The cut disappears in a matter of seconds and you no longer feel the throbbing pain from your side. “...but you look far too appealing to get rid of, Queen.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Why have you ventured out to see me, Queen?” the man doesn’t stop his touches, nor does he care about asking for any form of permission. His hands grip both of your naked breasts, tongue dipping down to capture a nipple into his mouth.

“Please, stop.” you beg, shuddering beneath him at the foreign sensation. “I-I…you’re going to attack my kingdom.”

Your back arches when the demon continues to suckle onto your breast, eyes flickering up to you. “I am.” he says after popping your nipple from his mouth. “Such a whorish body for a virgin, Queen.”

The demon shoves your thighs apart, his eyes on your clothed center. He notices the wet spot on your underwear and hums.

You feel hot with embarrassment, thighs quivering to close.

“I sense that you’ve come out here to make a deal with me, Queen? You’re far too weak to kill me.” the demon laughs, as if the thought of you attempting to cause him any harm is just that comical.

The demon rips off your underwear and dips his head between your legs. His tongue laps between your folds.

Once again, your back arches and your eyes clenched shut. You want to fight the demon, but there’s no use - he’s stronger than you, even if he appears human. He holds onto your legs tightly as he ravishes your clit hungrily.

Your moans don’t go unnoticed from either of you. You didn’t want this - he was a demon and presumably the King your brother spoke of. However, you cannot control how your body feels - and it feels far too amazing to not moan.

“What is a Queen willing to do in order to protect her Kingdom?” is what the demon had asked you, lifting his head from your throbbing clit, licking his lips.

“Anything.” is what you told him, fresh tears pooling down your cheeks with overstimulation.

“Sister…” the look on your brother's face breaks your heart. “...what have you done?”

The demon’s name is Jimin - or that’s what he called himself when he allowed you to leave, making sure your skin was littered with bite marks and bruises before he did so.

The last time you saw Jimin was months prior when you had strolled through the forest. He had allowed you to leave and told you in five months time, you would see him again.

Jimin didn’t say that when he’d return, it would be without bloodshed. He allowed the darkness - as your brother called them - to wreak havoc upon the Kingdom. Innocent lives were lost and nearly half of your soldiers had gone with them.

Your brother’s eyes fall upon you, running towards the same demon King he had warned Haneul about months prior, a look of disbelief on his face. He holds the sword high in one hand, ready to attack Jimin if given the chance to - only you had stepped right in between the blade and the demon. The demon held a smug look upon his face, a smirk forming on his plush lips.

You were crying, your brother notes. Your hand grasps Jimin’s top, pushing him away with all your might - something he allowed you to do. You had fallen to your knees next, begging for the King to call off the darkness surrounding you - to stop the havoc upon innocent blood.

“I told you I’d do anything.” you cried to the smug King.

“That you did.” Jimin quips.

The demon king raises his hands, flicking it slightly. It was as if it was a call to attention - the once demonic entities that savagely attacked the townspeople and guards - now surrounded you.

“Sister…” your brother murmurs, eyes gazing along the different types of entities surrounding you all.

“A Queen is willing to do anything to protect her Kingdom.” Jimin states to your brother.

Jimin snaps his fingers, and in a blink of an eye, the scenery changes. You are now inside the palace in the large throne room. Your brother, several guards and soldiers including the demonic entities occupy the room.

You swallow the lump in your throat, eyes roaming to the frozen crowd.

“They’re conscious. Just unable to move.” Jimin states from behind you, a hand gripping your shoulder. “I want them to watch their Queen crumble beneath my fingers. Especially that brother of yours.”

Jimin snaps again and now, you feel it once more - the unseen force. Your royal attire is being ripped from your body once more - falling to shreds at your feet. Jimin watches intently at the show before him, you flushed and hot and embarrassed.

Jimin raises a hand and points two fingers at you. He flicks it low and instantly, you fall to your knees.

Jimin is slow to walk towards you, and when he does, he grips your cheeks harshly. He pries your mouth open and enters two fingers inside of it.

“Don’t choke.” Jimin commands, forcing his fingers deeper inside of your mouth.

You do, feeling the tips of his fingers reach closer to the back of your throat.

Jimin sighs with a shake of his head.

You gasp when your cheek stings. You fall to the side, barely managing to catch yourself.

“Open your mouth for me, human.” Jimin commands, but it’s as though he does it himself. Your mouth opens wide as if on impact - having no true control of your actions.

Your eyes are wide as you watch Jimin release his trousers. It falls to his knees and before you is his cock - erect, veiny and large.

“I can smell your fear, Queen. You being afraid will not stop me from taking you in front of your soldiers, guards and brother.”

Jimin places the tip of his cock on your tongue, rubbing it along the wet muscle for a moment before he fully enters your mouth.

Jimin is a true demon - your human tears do not affect him. With each thrust, he hits the back of your throat, but your mouth never falters - you’re compelled to keep your mouth open until he is finished.

Jimin grunts, surprise how your throat takes him so well - he can see the outline of his cock on your throat as he fucks you, and it only makes him want to hurt you more.

Your throat swells with a thick, salty substance and you find it difficult to breathe. You’re squirming beneath Jimin, wanting everything in your power to fight his compulsion and to get away from him.

“Swallow.” Jimin hisses - and you do. It’s difficult at first, so thick that it takes several tries. But when you do, you begin to cough at the new found oxygen you receive when Jimin takes his cock from your mouth.

Jimin cackles at your appearance - puffy lips and face, blurry eyes with tear stained cheeks.

“Go ahead, Queen,” Jimin tilts his head. “tell me how you are going to save your kingdom.”

As if it wasn’t humiliating enough to have the eyes of people who respected you watching, Jimin wanted you to further be embarrassed.

“B-By letting you use me.” your throat hurts, throbbing with such pain.

“Hm…” Jimin shakes his head. “I want to hear you beg, Queen. You came to me, afterall.”

You’re shuddering, naked skin erupting in goosebumps. You bowed to Jimin, wishing that this was nothing but a cruel nightmare you’d wake up from. “Please u-use me…”

Jimin snorts, unamused. “If that’s what you call begging, then I’ll kill them now.”

One guard is unfrozen. He falls to his knees, engulfed in bright orange flames. His screams echo off the wall of the throne room, echoing deep within your mind.

“Please use me and don’t hurt my people!” you scream, hot and fresh tears soring down your cheeks. You’re trembling in fear, Jimin’s true nature showing. “Hurt me as much as you’d like!”

Jimin’s interest peaks, a smirk forming onto his lips. “Oh?”

The unseen force slams your face against the marble floor and forces your legs apart. You feel Jimin behind you, sharp nails against your naked skin. His skin burns yours, so hot that it feels as if it’ll melt yours.

“A Queen would do anything to save her kingdom.” Jimin cackles once more.

You scream out when you feel yourself being stretched out. Your eyes clenched shut, tears finding their way out of your eyes somehow.

Jimin grinds deep inside of you, hissing at just how tight you were - a true virgin. Instantly, you’re bleeding, blood seeping down your thighs mixed with slick. But Jimin doesn’t care. He doesn’t slow his abusive thrusts.

“For years I’ve been bound into the forest until I was able to break free.” Jimin says, his abdomen slapping against your ass as he takes you. “Years my kind has been falling to the likes of filthy humans such as yourself.”

You’re going to die, the pain excruciating. With each thrust, you’re pounded against the marble floor roughly, hitting deeper and deeper inside of you that you’re positive you’d be split open.

“And now, Queen, I will take out decades of frustration upon you with no remorse.”

Jimin’s promise rang true. He continues to pound into you at a brutal pace for who knows how long. You felt yourself being filled countless times - each time more than before.

Jimin had flipped you onto your back, admiring how your breast bounced furiously as he fucks you, his cock causing a bulge so large in your stomach. Your cries are nothing but music to his ears, pussy clenching him so tightly as it drips a large puddle around him.

Jimin hoists you up, fucking into you against one of the frozen guards, not caring about any of them or their lives - humiliating you was his true purpose. You’re unable to speak, only screaming and crying louder with each thrust.

Hours upon hours had gone by and you had no tears left to cry or any protest to give. You accepted your fate by now. Your insides hurt and you’re truly unsure just how many times you could be pleasured by such a demon - an insane amount of liquid had squirted out of you countless times.

“It’s your turn, Queen.” Jimin drops you onto the ground, amused by your twitching form. His cum oozes out of you rapidly, clit throbbing and red.

Your body suddenly feels hot and any exhaustion you once felt is now gone. This had to be the work of Jimin’s demonic powers.

You spring from your fetal position to wrap your legs around Jimin. He sits upon the cold marble floor, wrapping his arms around you.

What was going on? Why had you suddenly regained such strength and stamina?

You sit upon Jimin’s erect cock and moan out. Your hips rise and fall at an alarming pace - you’ve never done this before, however, you appear a pro at it. Your fingernails dig into his skin and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Jimin chuckles at your new eagerness, allowing you to go wild against him. It may be his compulsion over you, but he cannot fake your orgasm or your slick - that was all you.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, Queen. Does my cock do this to you?”

You nod your head erratically, your hips never buckling. You’re creaming his cock, stars forming in your compelled eyes. All you could think about his Jimin - his cock, his cum, and him overall.

“You’ll only cum when I allow you to, Queen. Is that what you want? To cum?”

“Please, please, please!” your mind is blank - you’ve forgotten what you initially agreed upon with the demon, all you can think about now is cumming all over his cock. “Please let me cum!”

“Cock hungry whore.” Jimin wraps a hand around your neck and squeezes. “These people would never respect you as their Queen even after you risked your life to save theirs.”

You’re cumming, a pool of slick shooting out of you, but even then you cannot stop your aggressive riding. You wanted more than to cum - you wanted Jimin’s cum deep inside of you once more - over and over again.

“What are you willing to do to have my cum, whore?” Jimin begins to thrust along with you, reaching deeper. “Would you watch your Kingdom burn for it?”

You’re too far gone now and you nod your head.

Humans were truly easy to fool.

“So be it.” Jimin snaps his fingers, the room erupting in a fit of fire.

Even with the sounds of screams, you want nothing more than for Jimin to use you - to breed you. It’s what whores truly desire, Jimin thinks, to be bred by whoever is willing. He’s positive once you come back to your senses, you’d be devastated to know that your brother, Haneul, the royal guards and soldiers are dead - however, he promised you that your Kingdom would remain; not the people occupying it.

#bangtanwriters net #bangtanwritershq #bangtan smut #btswritingcafe #btswritersclub #btswriterscollective #trivia-yandere #bts smut #yandere bts #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x you #demon jimin #trivia-yandere halloween masterlist #halloween #princess reader #king jimin #alternate universe

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defmaybe · 4 months ago

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Masterlist!

Christmas!

aespa

Giselle - [AER-698] My Boss(?) Loves My Ass So Much She Puts Her Tongue on It, Then She Fucks Me in the Ass Like I’m Her Cockslut and Make Me Cum!

Karina - Not Shy

Karina - J’adore (Sequel-ish to Not Shy)

Karina ft. Jo Yuri - Lotus Eater

Ningning - Excel

Reticence

fromis_9

Seoyeon - Arrangement

ITZY

Yuna - Sticky

Yuna - Party Police (Sequel to Sticky)

IVE

Gaeul - Noona from the Bar

Gaeul & Wonyoung - Pegging & Penetration

Wonyoung - mirrorball

Yujin - Shame

Yujin - Safe (Sequel to Shame)

KISS OF LIFE

Haneul - Bahama

LE SSERAFIM

Sakura - Midnight Blues (Ask)

NewJeans

Minji ft. NMIXX's Haewon - Mistake (Angst)

Minji - Rockland (Angst)

NMIXX

Haewon - Cherry

Haewon ft. NewJeans' Minji - Mistake

Lily - Prudence

PURPLE KISS

Dosie - I Love You, I’m Sorry (Angst)

Red Velvet

Wendy - Pros of Pursuing Photography as Your Career

TWICE

Dahyun - In What Terms? (Ask)

Weeekly

Jihan - Salt (Ask)

Jihan - Spicy (Ask)

Others/Soloists

Jo Yuri ft. aespa's Karina - Lotus Eater

#masterlist

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imfoive · 4 months ago

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The Youngest Son - Chapter 8

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of cursing, death, somewhat proofread WC: 9.6k A/N: Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

CHAPTER 8 ────────────────────

There was a stark silence in the Chairman’s dark study. Glowing slightly by the dimness of the cellphone’s flashlight.

Lee Minho had gotten himself entangled in a web of secrets he didn’t know existed.

Was he important enough for his birth origins to be shrouded in mystery?

He stared at the creased paper, his name and real birthdate glaring back at him.

Yet, the youngest son didn’t get to ponder his thoughts for long. Already finding himself snatched back to a reality where he suddenly found himself to be an enigma.

The vibrations of his cell phone broke the stillness, an incoming call from Chairman Lee causing him to clench his teeth and tighten his jaw. He let the call end, watching as the screen dimmed, leaving the room illuminated only by the flash of the phone once again.

This old man, the keeper of all these twists in his life.

Minho hastily closed the files, returning them to their original order. Yet, still hesitant fingers hovered over the small boxed compartment in the back, filled with countless flash drives, each labeled differently.

He recalled how Secretary Cha just added another one to the pile, though was unsure exactly which one.

His brain wracked in the intensity of his snooping. It was clear that the drive labeled “Joohyun—Jae” was the one from the night Lee Jae overdosed. He was sure the chairman had already figured out the truth behind Jae’s demise.

The contents might be a copy of the yacht CCTV footage, but that was highly doubtful since Minho himself had the original footage, and had never shown it to anyone, not even his grandfather.

Then it struck him.

The dash cam footage from the car.

The one the Chairman had pretended not to know about. The evidence Minho failed to get a hold of. Minho had fallen for his feigned deception, like a fool.

“That sneaky old man.” Minho muttered to himself, dropping everything back into place and closing the locker.

The cabinet shut slowly with a soft click and locked with a low beep.

Sneaking out was easier than sneaking in, but Minho left with even more questions than he had when he arrived.

He ignored the Chairman’s calls, but as he settled into his car, his phone rang again.

“We’re on our way to the restaurant from the wineries. Pick up Haneul from the hotel on your way here.” Chairman Lee instructed through the car speaker.

Minho glanced at the dashboard, noting his route to the restaurant.

“Is Miss Son joining us as well?” He asked, well aware of his grandfather’s intentions.

“Yes, she’s staying at The Rose Hotel.”

The grandson covered his mouth with his hand in frustration.

Great. The Rose Hotel.

“Yes, I got it.” He muttered instead, turning his car towards the hotel.

Sky Son was as awkward as ever.

The young woman stuttered through her greeting yet smiled shyly at Minho, who returned the smile as she buckled into the passenger seat.

“How are you liking your stay here so far?” Minho asked, glancing at her while pulling out of the hotel driveway.

She stole a glance, taking in his profile, but quickly looked away when he met her gaze, blushing slightly.

“It’s good. The people here are nice…” She responded, trailing off as she looked up at him again.

He nodded, smiling once more but kept his focus on the road.

“And The Rose Hotel?” He inquired.

“Ah! It’s great. I actually met Miss Y/N Park the night after the party at your residence. She’s a wonderful person.”

Minho’s smile faltered briefly before he recovered, his lips stretching into a different kind of smile. “Is that so?”

“She told me you two went to school together.”

He nodded, confirming her statement.

“You guys must be close then.” She said, her eyes hopeful.

He glanced at her briefly before pulling his car into the venue they were to dine in.

“You could say that.” He replied, noticing her expression fall, clearly disappointed.

But he didn’t care. He was just babysitting at this point.

Minho walked to her side of the car, opening the door with practiced courtesy. Her expression brightened at his gesture, reminding him of Y/N and how her eyes would light up at simple gestures from him. But he didn’t like that look in Miss Son’s eyes.

It made him feel gross.

Handing his keys to the valet, Minho masked his unreadable expression with a forced smile as he led Sky into the private area where their grandfathers awaited.

───────────────────────

Y/N sat at the breakfast table, between her parents. Park Hyunmin, adjusted his glasses and took a sip of his coffee.

“I didn’t know you came home.” The older man said, surprised by her presence so early in the morning.

He grinned widely, and her mother’s face lit up with a smile.

“I can’t miss you guys?” Y/N raised a brow, reaching for her food.

“The house just brightens up whenever she’s here, doesn’t it, honey?” Her mother asked her husband.

Park Hyunmin nodded and passed Y/N a bowl of fruit. The daughter who’s presence apparently lit up the room, couldn’t help but notice how their affection had seemed to increase since her return from New York, but she wasn’t complaining.

“Ah, did you hear the news about Lee Minho getting engaged to Son Hyungdon’s granddaughter?” The mother asked suddenly, recalling the fresh gossip she had heard that morning.

Y/N froze, her throat going dry, and she found herself unable to continue eating.

“You and your gossip.” Park Hyunmin sighed, glancing briefly at Y/N.

“We have nothing to do with Lee Minho or Son Hyungdon outside of our business. Who cares what they do?” He muttered, bringing his coffee back to his lips.

“No, no, I was just saying. It’s not official news yet. Possibly just rumors.” Her mother said, brushing it off.

Unbeknownst that their daughter sat with her hands clenched around her fork and knife, her eyes fixed on her mother’s cooling mug of coffee set infront.

“Minho’s office door burst open, and Y/N stormed in, her anger evident in her expression.

An anxious team member trailed behind her.

“Miss Park, please, you can’t—”

Minho raised a hand to signal the man to step back. Who nodded and bowed before retreating and closing the door behind him.

Y/N glared at Minho, her anger unmistakable.

“Are you fucking around with me?” She demanded.

Minho was initially startled, slowly morphing into confusion before he ultimately came to a conclusion. He realized that Y/N had likely heard some unsettling news, perhaps the whispers had reached her ears already. He approached her, trying to calm her down.

“Listen, Y/N, whatever you heard is not true—”

“Did you or did you not have a marriage meeting with Son Haneul?” She interrupted, eyes locking onto his with a fierce glare.

Minho hesitated, falling silent. His lack of response was enough for her. Yet, he attempted to grasp her arms, but of course the stubborn woman would not allow him to do so. She scoffed, turning away in frustration before glaring back at him.

“It was your idea to date secretly.” She said, jabbing a finger into his chest and pushing him backward.

He allowed her push, closing his eyes momentarily as he tried to collect his thoughts, his arms falling to his sides in defeat.

“You’re the one who said we’ll announce our relationship when the time is right. But now this is what I’m hearing?” Disbelief dripped from her words, her face flushed with anger.

His back pressed against the wall, while her figure loomed close, voice dropping to a whisper as tears brimmed in her eyes. Y/N pressed against him, one arm across his chest, pinning him in place.

“I won’t give you a third chance. You can’t fuck me over and expect me to sit back and do nothing.” Y/N spat, her eyes darting between his, her composure almost faltering as she searched his apologetic gaze.

“It’s not what you think.” Minho said, hoping she’d hear him out.

But her mind was clouded with the fear of being betrayed. Despite knowing deep down that Minho would never do that, the whispers of a sudden marriage between him and Son Haneul were overwhelming her.

He had made promises. In the quiet of his bedroom. As he littered kisses down her body.

While he pushed her up against the glass of her penthouse suite back in New York. Whispering into her ears.

He swore he was hers.

Murmurs about a sudden marriage between Lee Minho and Son Haneul already began spreading throughout high society. It was only a matter of days before it would make headlines, cementing their names together. And perhaps the two would suddenly find themselves standing at the altar saying their “I do’s”, something that happened quite often in their circle.

Something that had almost been her own reality if Minho hadn’t intervened. If Jae hadn’t died.

Haneul seemed like a sweet girl. From their brief, coincidental encounter, Y/N had sensed that. Sure, she was a bit naive, but that might be due to her younger age and introverted nature. Haneul was kind, calm, and thoughtful. She was the kind of girl who would listen before jumping to conclusions.

Things that Y/N clearly was not.

Perhaps those were the qualities Minho truly desired in his partner.

“Please don’t tell me you were just using my love.” Y/N said, her voice breaking as tears finally trickled freely.

Minho was at a loss for words, unable to think beyond her tearful eyes. He reached out to console her, but she stepped back abruptly, releasing him from her grip and composing herself.

Without giving him another moment to respond, she nudged him back against the wall and turned to leave.

“Y/N, please…” He murmured, reaching out to grab her wrist, his voice tinged with a sudden desperation.

“I can’t face you before you fix this.” She replied coldly, not looking back.

Her wrist slipped from his grasp, and she exited the room. Minho stood there, feeling almost defeated, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything that had happened just now.

Everything that had happened in the past two days.

He had just disappointed the one person he never wanted to hurt.

A friendly dinner.

Hah.

The dinner the other night with those old men had been nothing but an ambush. An unofficial announcement of his engagement to Son Haneul, staged in front of just the two of them and their grandfathers.

The old men laughed, clearly delighted. Miss Son had either covered her face in shock or shyness, Minho didn’t care which. His gaze had been fixed on his grandfather, whose laughter had seemed mocking almost.

After Son Hyungdon and his granddaughter had left, Minho had confronted Chairman Lee. A glare in his gaze.

“I see you’ve decided everything among yourselves.” Minho said, leaning into the table.

The Chairman smiled. “Son Hyung-Don is ready to invest billions in us. We should repay him well, don’t you think?”

“By selling me off?” Minho retorted.

It felt like the same cycle all over again, but this time Minho was the one up for sale.

Chairman Lee studied the challenging look in Minho’s eyes, his lips twitching into a grin that he quickly suppressed. His demeanor turned serious as he spoke.

“I’ve given you enough time to look through those profiles of young women. You seemed too busy, so I chose one for you.”

Minho let out a silent laugh, his lips curling as he looked down at the tablecloth. But before he could respond, the old man beat him to it.

“Are you going to act out because of Y/N Park?” The Chairman finally asked, his tone suddenly stern.

Minho’s smile vanished at the mention of the woman he loved, his eyes shot a protective glare at the old man.

He had never underestimated Chairman Lee, knowing the old man would eventually catch onto his relationship with Y/N. He was more curious about why the Chairman had waited so long to address it. But now this sudden engagement has become an unexpected obstacle.

He should’ve considered it the moment he met Sky.

“If you already know, why are you pushing me to choose another side?” Minho demanded, unable to understand the old man’s motives.

The Chairman laughed. “I can’t let you jeopardize the relationship I spent years cultivating with Son Hyungdon. He has connections all over Europe—”

“And Rose Enterprises is a global name, even bigger than Son Hyungdon probably.” Minho argued.

The old man fell silent for a few seconds, studying the young man’s determined face.

“I can’t base decisions on arguments that end with ‘probably.’ Besides, what makes you think Park Hyunmin will accept you? Have you forgotten your background?”

A cold silence fell over the room as Minho stared at his grandfather. A little stunned.

He had never heard such a direct insult from Chairman Lee before. A clear jab at his illegitimacy.

Except now all Minho could only think about was the altered birth certificate hidden in the old man’s safe.

He didn’t even know his true background himself.

No.

Who was he?

───────────────────────

The new mother didn’t know how to feel. Her baby was born prematurely, frail, and possibly not strong enough to make it through the next few days. He had been born in a monastery but was rushed to the nearest hospital, where he was kept under intensive care. The doctors claimed it didn’t look to good.

She had named him and clung to the hope that he would survive.

He was her only link to the Chairman, her connection to the Lee family. She had fled after Chairman Lee had threatened her, planning to stay out of the public eye until the child was born and the old man could no longer deny his existence.

The Chairman had been right about her.

She was a sneaky thing that wanted to trap him.

Why else would a young woman like her allow an old man to take her to bed if not to secure her future?

The young assistant had understood from an early age that navigating the world required powerful connections and financial backing.

And it wasn’t as if she didn’t care for her newborn. She was overwhelmed with grief, unable to stop sobbing as she watched the doctors work on her child, inserting tubes and keeping him in the NICU. The sisters from the chapel had tried to comfort her, urging her to rest and conserve her energy. She had held him for a few precious hours before the doctors had taken him away.

The Chairman wasn’t prepared for this.

He was even more shaken to learn that the child had been born a month prematurely, underweight and at risk.

He had been devising a plan to shift the blame for the child’s arrival onto his younger son, believing it would be more plausible if everyone thought the child was the result of his second son’s mistake. This way, he could contain the scandal within the family and avoid major fallout. But now, his concern had shifted to the possibility that the child might not even survive. He couldn’t afford to lose this last chance.

The young assistant was right about one thing.

Success required money, and Chairman Lee had plenty of it.

The hospital was filled with his people, top doctors and the best nurses.

He needed his son to survive.

“Of course a young thing like you would give birth to an unhealthy child.” He spat, looking down at the disheveled former assistant.

“But I’m here now. Nothing can harm my blood. Not even God himself.”

Lee Minho was born prematurely, but he had to live.

And he did.

───────────────────────

After Y/N had stormed out of his office, Minho felt frantic. He had promised himself he would never let her leave like that again, yet he had failed. Blinded by the secrets of the past, he had jeopardized his present and his future.

So he made a decision, one he should have made the moment his grandfather handed him those marriage candidate profiles.

Park Hyunmin studied the young man across from him. Minho smiled politely, leaning back in his seat.

The Vice President of L Corp. had made an unannounced visit to the head of The Rose Enterprises on a normal Thursday morning. There had been no prior appointment, no apparent reason for them to be sharing morning coffee really.

Hyunmin adjusted his glasses and leaned closer to the table between them.

“If you want to discuss The Resort Project, my daughter is planning a meeting with our partners sometime this week.” Hyunmin began, crossing one leg over the other.

The older man was aware that Minho wouldn’t have come for such a trivial reason, but it was a start to a conversation Park Hyunmin couldn’t guess

“Actually, I’m here for something else. Though it does concern your daughter” Minho replied

The mention of Y/N had made the father raise a protective brow.

“You asked me a few years ago if I saw myself marrying your daughter.” Minho continued.

“Yes. And I recall you denied on the spot.”

God, was he a fool. Minho berated his past self.

But still smiled thinly and nodded.

“I’d like to tell you that I’m going to marry Y/N.” He stated, sitting up straight with a sincere expression.

Park Hyunmin fell silent for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“You Lee’s really take marriage for a joke don’t you? Last I heard, you’re to be wed to Son Hyungdon’s girl.” Hyunmin had tried to remain composed, though he found it difficult to suppress his irritation.

“That was a plan that didn’t involve me.” The young man across responded honestly.

“And you think Y/N would just jump at your proposal? You two haven’t been in contact for the past two years.”

Minho blinked, looking down momentarily before meeting Hyunmin’s gaze, who immediately got the message from his silence and sheepishly stupid gaze.

“Of course you’ve kept in touch.” Park Hyunmin muttered, sighing as he reached for his coffee, finally understanding why his daughter’s mood suddenly shifted that morning at breakfast.

“So why this sudden decision? Were you planning to defy your family’s plans? Or did you suddenly realize you might be cut off from the inheritance?”

The younger man leaned in, intertwining his fingers in front of him, and gazed seriously at the older man.

“The shareholders meeting to appoint the next president of L Corp. is coming up. I know for sure that I’m one of the candidates.” Minho began, his words perking the older man’s ears.

“With the announcement of my engagement to Y/N, I’d look better in front of the shareholders. Besides, Son Hyungdon’s investment is insignificant compared to The Rose Enterprises. This will also be good media play for your side as well.”

Park Hyunmin processed the schemes Minho had cooked up, before he laughed softly, leaning back and observing the almost sinister look on Minho’s face.

He was a Lee after all.

“A battle amongst the successors, huh? I didn’t think I’d see this day so soon. So up close as well.” He chuckled again, sipping his coffee.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“If Y/N is willing to accept this challenge, I won’t stop her. It’s time she considered the future of The Rose Enterprises without my influence. But if anything goes awry, just know, I don’t give second chances easily.” He warned, the amusement from earlier long gone.

Lee Minho had lots of things to take care of, lots of things to think about. From his false birth certificate to his engagement.

But the most important, Y/N.

He could still picture her teary expression as she left his office a few days ago.

Minho sighed deeply, sinking into the leather of his car seat. Despite numerous unanswered calls and messages, there was only silence from her end. The few days of not hearing from her felt far longer than the years she had been away. Determined yet anxious, he dialed her number again, the phone ringing persistently in the quiet car.

As expected, she didn’t answer.

Once Y/N made a decision, she rarely wavered.

But Minho was worried she’d throw him away and stick with that decision.

No, he couldn’t let that happen. Without her, he’d have no purpose to keep going.

It was ironic. Only some years ago, it was Y/N who chased after him no matter his avoidance.

Or maybe, deep down, it was he who had been obsessed with her, allowing her to break down his walls because his desire to have her was so painful. Or maybe he was afraid to be alone, and knew Y/N would never allow him to feel so.

It was ironic, but he couldn’t even laugh.

He hoped that his conversation with her father reached her ears as quickly as his engagement news had.

And it did.

The incoming call from her flashed brightly on the dashboard, one he swiftly accepted.

“Hello—”

“Where are you?” Her voice was urgent, almost demanding.

“The parking lot of Rose Enterprises.” He replied.

“Stay there.” Y/N commanded abruptly before ending the call.

Minho listened to her, like a good boyfriend.

Not even five minutes later, he saw her figure emerge through the automatic doors leading to the indoor parking lot. Instinctively, he got out of the car, closing the door with a thud that caught her attention. Y/N strode toward him with an expression Minho couldn’t decipher.

Her steps quickened until she was practically running. Her arms reached out, and she almost leapt into his embrace. Startled, Minho instinctively caught her, stumbling back against the car door. She clung to him, exhaling sharply.

“I didn’t think you’d ask for my hand in marriage.” She mumbled into the fabric of his jacket, gripping him tightly.

His tension melted away as he held her close, a smile spreading across his face as he hugged her back, inhaling her scent.

“You said to fix it. So I did.” He murmured against her.

Y/N pulled back to look at him, her eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry for not letting you clear up misunderstandings. For bombarding you with questions that day.” She whispered, her face contorting into a guilt-ridden expression.

He smiled instead, shaking his head before leaning in to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Relaxing into her arms, he pulled back with a contented sigh. His eyes suddenly lit up, the wide grin she loved seeing, spread across his face.

“Look in my left pocket.” He whispered, watching as her eyes momentarily reflected confusion, hands slowly rummaging through his coat, while his fingers still gripped at her arms lightly.

Her fingers fished out the velvet box, eyes automatically shooting up to meet him, widening in surprise.

“How could I propose without a ring?” Minho chuckled softly, the kind of sound that always made Y/N’s stomach tingle.

She slowly opened the box, and the sight of the diamond sparkling in the light made her cheeks flush, unable to contain her smile. Truly rendered speechless.

“Please Marry me, Y/N.” He said softly, his eyes full of love as he waited.

Her lips quivered with joy and excitement, truly touched by the warm gaze he held. She nodded, pulling his face toward her for a deep, passionate kiss.

A proper heated kiss that lifted her off her feet.

Chairman Lee stared at the photographs taken by undercover reporters, showing Y/N and Minho kissing openly. The images had already made headlines, catching high society by surprise.

The old man was angry and upset that Minho, who had always heeded his advice, was now acting on his own.

Yet, at the same time, it was fascinating, too.

The father in him felt a strange pride that his son had made such a bold decision.

His brows narrowed at the images again.

The businessman in him, however, was less impressed. The schemes Minho had orchestrated were not just disobedient, they were disruptive to his own meticulously planned strategy.

“Sir, Mr. Son is calling again. He seems to have heard the news.” Secretary Cha announced, breaking the Chairman’s daze.

Chairman Lee’s eyes flicked to the television screen, which displayed more news about his youngest son and the Park heiress.

“That bastard.” He muttered.

The emotions Minho stirred in him, even in this brief moment, were… exhilarating.

For the first time, Chairman Lee felt genuinely challenged. He had gotten a taste of it the night Minho had glared at him after finding out about his arranged engagement.

But this was something entirely new and thrilling. For the first time, he felt like a father whose son had truly lived up to his expectations. A new sensation of seeing his son assert himself so dramatically.

Despite the underlying pride, Chairman Lee had no intention of letting Minho get away with this newfound boldness. He had to remind his son who held the reins.

“Get Lee Minho here, now.” He coldly instructed.

Y/N stared at the glistening ring on her finger, her eyes twinkling and her lips stretched into an uncontrollable grin.

“We had everyone fooled, right? Our relationship hit the news with a bang, and the stocks are doubling as we speak!” Y/N gushed, crossing one leg over the other, turning to Lee Jihoon who stared at her unfazed.

They were sitting at the same bar where they had last fought. Minho had to leave abruptly for a meeting with Chairman Lee, and Y/N needed someone to share her excitement with.

“Mmmm, I don’t think anyone really cared to notice.” Jihoon said, glancing around the place.

Y/N made a face, rolling her eyes at his response, then began surveying the room herself.

“I was surprised when you called me here. We’re not even friends.”

Y/N looked back at him before taking a sip of her drink.

“I’d like to think we’re business friends.” She smirked to which Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head.

“I’m not even interested in business.”

“Then I guess we can be just friends.” She said, raising her glass to his new drink.

The older man considered it for a moment before clinking his glass against hers.

“I’ll think about it.” Jihoon laughed, downing his drink as Y/N rolled her eyes once more.

While his new fiancée celebrated, Minho found himself under the intense scrutiny of his grandfather’s gaze.

Chairman Lee observed his youngest son with a mix of emotions. There was a new, almost defiant aura around Minho, as if he had finally become his own person of some sort.

A bittersweet realization for the patriarch who had always had control of every aspect of the family’s affairs.

But deep down inside, he always hoped for a day like this to come, where he had to stand against a son that he raised to be just like him.

He was tired of cleaning after the messes his useless children made. For once, he wanted to worry about something other than a mess.

Though this wasn’t less of a mess, it was something that could be twisted into a good thing as well.

The Chairman was upset for various other reasons.

He had to risk his ties with Son Hyungdon, though he didn’t really care much for the headache.

He had to control the rest of the family, who were always slow when it came to doing a good job, but first to bark when they felt threatened.

No, he was truly frustrated that Minho had chosen to act independently, without consulting him. His father.

It was a challenge to his authority that he hadn’t anticipated.

“You’ve grown a lot. I didn’t think I’d have to worry about you this soon.” Chairman Lee said, pouring tea into the empty cups in front of them.

Minho watched the steam rise from his cup, his gaze steady as he met his grandfather’s eyes.

“I remembered your words again. The ones about not trusting any businessman, no matter how appealing their promises are. I realized the moment you brought up my background, grandfather. I’ve forgotten for a moment that you are also a businessman.” Minho said, reaching for his tea.

The atmosphere between them was charged with passive-aggressive tension. Chairman Lee studied Minho, who now seemed markedly more mature. He chuckled softly before he leaned back, crossing his legs.

“What are your plans now? I recall telling you that a good businessman doesn’t put all his eggs in one basket.” Chairman Lee asked.

Minho raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the older man’s tone, wondering what else was this old man planning in that mind of his.

“You’ve burned the Son bridge. How far do you think the Park bridge will get you?” Chairman Lee continued, picking up a cookie and savoring its sweetness.

“I plan on becoming president of L Corp,.” Minho stated confidently.

The old man’s delight was evident, though he masked it behind a facade of composure. He cleared his throat, maintaining a serious demeanor.

“What makes you think it will be that simple? You’ve forgotten about your brothers. Jungshin has the elder shareholders in his pocket, and Joohyeon has been building those overseas connections.”

“A good businessman doesn’t reveal his plans too readily, grandfather.” Minho replied with a smile.

Chairman Lee’s expression momentarily faltered before he burst into laughter, absolutely amused by Minho’s bravado.

“I have a slight inclination that I might expect you to side with me during the selection, won’t you?...Unless my background bothers you.” Minho said, his sly smirk, both irking and amusing the old man at the same time.

“I’m not like you son, I don’t put all my eggs in one basket. You’ll just have to see at the next meeting.” The old man chuckled, sipping his tea again.

Placing the cup back down, he sighed. A pointed sound that stated he’s moving on from this conversation.

“What’s done is done. Son Hyungdon will have to suck it up. The news of the engagement is actually benefiting us, especially with The Resort Project. Let’s not dwell on future problems just yet.” Chairman Lee said, clapping and offering Minho a plate of cookies.

Minho smiled but politely declined.

“How about a round of golf?” Chairman Lee suggested with a doting smile.

“I need to get back to my fiancée.” Minho declined again, rising from his seat.

“Ah, very well. Don’t disappoint her now, otherwise, you might have to burn that Park bridge after all.” The old man laughed.

Minho bowed and began to leave, casting a final glance at the safe cabinet before turning. He nodded to Secretary Cha at the door as he exited.

Chairman Lee called his secretary over and leaned back, taking another sip of his tea. A low snicker escaped his lips before he erupted into another loud laugh.

“This is much more entertaining than I anticipated. I haven’t felt this alive in ages.” He said with a grin.

Looking at his secretary, he asked. “Who am I meeting next?”

The secretary checked his watch. “Your elder son wants to discuss the sudden engagement news. Your second son, will likely want to do the same—”

“Turn them away,” Chairman Lee cut him off coldly.

“They just want to complain. That’s all they ever do.” There was a bitterness in his tone.

He dusted his hands on his napkin, thinking for a moment.

“Get my lawyer on the phone. I believe it’s time for me to do some charity work.” He said with a chuckle.

───────────────────────

The second grandson of the Lee family was puzzled. No, he was in denial. He stared at the names of the contenders in line for the title of L Corporation’s next leading President. Many different emotions flowing through him.

His name was not amongst them.

Lee Joohyeon was the oldest son from the second branch within the Lee family. How could he not even be considered?

How was it that the person standing against Lee Jungshin wasn’t him, but the youngest son of the family?

Joohyeon has spent all his life fighting for second place, and now he was painfully made aware that even that spot did not belong to him.

It would have been the ideal scenario.

The eldest of Lee Mooyoung stood against the eldest of Lee Doyoung. It seemed like a fair battle.

But Lee Minho swooped in like a shadow, his name in bold next to Jungshin’s. Minho was making his way up the ladder, getting tied to The Rose Enterprises, something he pretended to never be interested in, now made sure his name was in everyone’s mouth. While Joohyeon sat here in Japan, exiled under the pretense of managing L Corp. subsidiaries.

He was guilty. Once upon a time. The face of Jae lying still on the cold yacht floor still haunted him in his dreams from time to time.

But he wasn’t guilty enough.

He wanted to go back to where he was. Even the spot of second best was more than enough for the older brother who now seemed to equal to nothing in the ranks within the Lee family.

Minho’s name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t just let that young boy reach any higher than he was. But his grandfather was always particularly drawn to the youngest, shielding him. And his father was delusional, under the spell that Minho had cast, like his maid mother.

He knew his uncle, and the first branch within the Lee family wouldn’t sit still either. Especially with Jungshin being one of the candidates for President. This was their only chance to control the reign of L Corp. in the coming generations.

The only person who would be on Joohyeon’s side, the only sane person the oldest of the second branch could think of was his mother. His mother didn’t have favorites amongst her children. But with Jihoon being a self-appointed outcast, and Minho’s existence itself disgusting her, she had no choice but to hold Joohyeon high on a pedestal.

Even then he was just the default. But it was better than sitting thousands of miles away from his goals. He needed to find his way back.

No. He had to go back.

───────────────────────

The sudden attention from everyone around Y/N filled her with an unexpected delight. It was as if she was finally basking in the glow of something she had always wanted. Although she wasn’t exactly an attention-seeker, the fact that everyone now knew Lee Minho was hers made her squeal with excitement. Her teenage self would have never believed that the cold and indifferent Lee Minho, who would practically leap out of a window whenever she entered a room, was now completely captivated by her.

Gone were the days of secret meetings and indoor dates. They were now free to publicly display their relationship. While her fiancé wasn’t particularly fond of pda, maintaining their status as a hot topic among elite families was crucial. He needed the attention to boost his public image. Perhaps even impress shareholders who would heavily influence the decision on who to elect as the next President of L Corp.

Minho had made a promise to Y/N. If he was going to rise, he’d rise with her.

Lee Minho had always managed to stay under the radar, keeping a low profile and avoiding any specific attention. His sudden emergence into the public eye only added to his mysterious persona. To the news outlets, he was like a present waiting to be unwrapped, a promising businessman and the youngest of the Lee family. His growing positive image only fueled his desire to reach for the stars, forget the sky.

But he also knew he was putting everything at stake. If he fails, he would only fall, fall hard.

So he told himself. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t let anything hinder him, no matter how difficult the obstacle in his path was. Whether that was his father, Lee Jungshin, or his grandfather himself. Minho was going to run them all over.

He toyed with the glass paperweight on his desk, spinning it absentmindedly as he pondered his next moves. He had already handled his engagement and established his position in the so-called “battle amongst the successors,” as Park Hyunmin called it. Joohyeon was no longer a threat, leaving Jungshin as his remaining challenge.

He knew the eldest grandson had something brewing, a big scheme to make Minho fall in the eyes of the shareholders and the public, Minho would have if he was him. The youngest was just waiting for the right time to play dirty. He had to thank his grandfather when it came to things like this. The unwritten handbook to the perfect businessman was all in Chairman Lee’s mind, and he made sure he embedded it into Minho as well.

However, a lingering concern gnawed at Minho. The thin file tucked away in Chairman Lee’s safe, containing information about his mother.

No, about Yoon Sooyeon, who might or might not be his mother.

He was torn, a part of him impatient to uncover whatever the hell the old man was trying to conceal. While another part whispered to him not to pry further, he wouldn’t be able to handle the aftermath.

Minho had dug up on the former maid that was dismissed from his family a year before he was born. The moment the doubts of her being nothing more than just a stranger to him, formed in his heart, he began looking into it. But of course with his sudden engagement to Haneul, to proposing to Y/N, and now being thrust into the public eye, the young man could only do so much to keep up with everything that was happening.

Or everything that already had happened.

His grandfather acted as though their last tense meeting had never occurred, treating the engagement between the Lees and the Parks as if he had always been in favor of it. He didn’t even mention Son Hyungdon anymore.

But that didn’t mean Son Haneul got the message. She should have. It was all over the news. The photos of Y/N and Minho kissing in a parking lot were easily accessible, and Y/N’s public social media was filled with their relationship.

Yet, the young girl chose to ignore it, mistaking Minho’s kindness for genuine interest.

Minho sat across from her in the lobby of L Corp., observing as she fiddled with the buttons of her fur coat. Her troubled expression was evident, and he studied her with a detached calm.

“W-why did you break our engagement?” She asked, her eyes betraying her hurt.

Minho wanted to laugh. She was young, but he hadn’t realized she was this naive.

“Our few days of encounters don’t really count as an engagement, do they? It’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think, Miss Son?” He said with the polite smile that had charmed her when they first met.

She blinked, unable to smile back, hurt by his use of her formal name instead of just Sky.

“Yes, but our grandfathers—”

“Our grandfathers aren’t here. And frankly, don’t you think we’re past the age where we let them dictate who we marry?” He leaned in slightly.

“You should find someone who genuinely likes you, not just someone your grandfather approves of.” He flashed her a pleasant smile, ignoring her tears, before standing up and walking away.

God did he hate pathetic people like her.

“Bring the new secretary to my room.” Minho instructed one of his team members as he walked to his office.

A young man in a crisp suit-and-tie stepped into the vice president’s office, his demeanor calm but his lack of experience evident compared to the seasoned members of the Secretary Department. But then again, maybe Minho had judged too quickly. Maybe this was how the older executives looked at him when he entered a room.

The young secretary bowed respectfully before standing straight in front of Minho’s desk.

“Good afternoon sir, I’m Kim Yongguk, your new personal secretary.”

Minho studied him carefully. Every influential person had a good secretary. Take Secretary Cha, for instance, who had faithfully served his grandfather for decades.

“Secretary Kim…how old are you?” The superior inquired.

The young man adjusted his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m twenty-five, sir.”

Minho nodded, picking up the glass paper stopper he had been playing with all day.

“Do you plan on sticking around for a long time?”

Yongguk straightened, his earlier confidence wavering slightly. “Yes, sir. I plan on being loyal to L Corp. for as long as I’m allowed to work here.”

“See, that’s where you’re mistaken. I don’t need you to be loyal to L Corp.” Minho shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

“I need you to be loyal to me. Not L Corp. You’re going to do anything I tell you to do…no matter how sketchy you find it.”

Yongguk’s eyes narrowed sharply with a slight confusion.

“If you think you can’t do that, you can back out now.” Minho added, his tone neither harsh nor reassuring, rather even.

“N-no sir, I will be able to follow your orders.” The young secretary responded rigidly.

Minho’s fingers stilled, setting aside the paperwork he had been holding.

“Even if there’s a risk of you getting into trouble… or worse?”

Yongguk paused, feeling the weight of Minho’s scrutiny.

“I’m not pressuring you. You can choose to walk away if you prefer.”

Minho’s intention wasn’t to intimidate the young man but to ensure that anyone who worked closely with him was prepared for the risks involved. He wanted someone loyal, someone who could handle the weight of secrets and tough decisions.

“I’m willing to be loyal to only you sir.” Yongguk responded after a moment of silence, his tone firm.

Minho fell silent for a moment. Thinking, observing.

He then let out a chuckle, startling his young secretary.

“You can relax. I’m not asking you to sacrifice your life for me. You won’t have to, and I won’t let that happen to one of my people.” He stated.

Yongguk’s tension eased at the sudden reassurance.

“I’ll give you your first task right away then.”

The Vice President reached into the side drawer of his desk. There was a pile of papers tucked into a thin file, whatever information Minho could collect over the past two weeks.

“I need you to look into Yoon Sooyeon.”

Secretary Kim reached forward and took the file off of the desk, eyes looking intently at it.

“She’s apparently my ‘dirty-birth mother.’” Minho smiled up at his secretary who stared at him in shock for a brief second.

“Sir…” He whispered, overwhelmed by the gravity of the secret he figured out.

“If you’re going to be at my side, you should know some of my secrets don’t you think?”

Minho didn’t know he was going to disclose this to a man he just met. It was something he never said out loud to anyone, not even to Y/N. But the look of doubt in this young secretary’s eyes irked him, and he needed to show him that he was willing to let Yongguk into the deepest secrets in return for his loyalty.

“Now that I’ve shared one of my secrets, let’s hear one of yours.” He tried to ease the tension, eyes awaiting for the dumbfounded young secretary to compose himself.

“I…I cheated my way through school.” Yongguk admitted, attempting to match the severity of his secret to Minho’s, though nothing could compare.

“So you might not even be qualified to be my secretary?” Minho laughed, absolutely amused.

He was laughing at such a situation. Like a maniac.

Like his father.

Though Kim Yongguk had expressed doubts about his own competence, he completed the task faster than Minho had anticipated, impressing the vice president. Yongguk’s eyes twinkled with pride at the compliment, and Minho knew immediately that the young man would be just fine next to him.

However, Minho’s amusement was short-lived. The information Secretary Kim uncovered was far from pleasant. The doubts in Minho’s mind were put to rest. The youngest son of the Lee family always had great instincts.

Yoon Sooyeon was nothing but a former maid at the Lee Residence.

A former, dead maid.

She had no connections to Minho. As he thought.

It felt like a maze of lies. The deeper he went, the more puzzled he became. Minho didn’t think that there were so many secrets behind his birth. Minho didn’t even know what to believe anymore.

Was he not really a son of the Lee family?

Was he just some kid that was picked up from an orphanage and put into cruel ties?

But no one else seemed to question Minho’s presence within the family. Everyone accepted the Chairman’s narrative of him being an illegitimate child between Lee Doyoung and Yoon Sooyeon. Perhaps even a doctored DNA test had been used to solidify his connection to his father.

The only person who held answers was his grandfather, but extracting information from him wouldn’t be easy unless Minho were to offer something in return.

───────────────────────

The oldest grandson of the Lee family was livid. He felt disrespected. His name, his title, was being compared to the illegitimate Lee Minho by the media, shareholders, and clients.

By their family.

Lee Jungshin had always watched Minho with a mix of intrigue and disdain, recognizing early on that the youngest son would eventually surpass others. Unlike Joohyeon, who had underestimated Minho, Jungshin knew better. Yet, the debate over who was the more capable leader, Jungshin or Minho, was infuriating. He had always considered himself the true heir, a crown prince in the family hierarchy. The prospect of being compared to Minho was both bewildering and insulting. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh, or if he should get mad.

Jungshin had that confidence in himself that he’d win against Lee Minho. But the recent announcement of Minho and Y/N’s engagement had thrown him into turmoil. Unlike Joohyeon, Lee Jungshin had the core values of a competent businessman.

He knew when he had to step up and take care of the thorns in his path. He knew exactly when to play dirty.

After the night of his nephew’s celebration party, Jungshin realized that the Chairman who had always sung the song about choosing the best businessman to hand over his entire estate and fortune to, might have been biased.

“My favorite grandson.”

The words rang in the eldest grandson’s ears. He had never heard those words from the old man’s mouth.

He had never sat with him for long hours drinking coffee, tea, whiskey.

They had never played golf.

Jungshin wasn’t going to deny that he was envious of the youngest who was able to weasel under the wings of the Chairman. It was a smart move, something Jungshin should have gotten a head start on, but didn’t.

Granted, Minho only took solace under the old man’s authority for protection from his own parents growing up. But Jungshin was still the old man’s grandson.

His eldest grandson.

Of course Jungshin had a plan for Lee Minho, for the title of President of L Corporation to be handed to its rightful owner, himself.

“The presentation for the shareholder’s meeting is complete.” Jungshin looked up to Mooyoung who sat across from him, brow raising.

“Lee Minho won’t realize what hit him.” Jungshin laughed, crossing his fingers into a clasp.

“He’s too busy in his love bubble with that Y/N.” His father added.

The name of Y/N leaves a sour taste in Jungshin’s mouth. Though his courting for the young girl was a brief thing, he hated how she never even looked in his direction. It was the first time he had tried so hard to get someone’s attention. And he hated the fact that she was so unamused.

But then again, who knew she was climbing into Minho’s bed at the end of the night, while pretending to hate his guts to fool everyone.

It was amusing, and perhaps a bit humiliating. Jungshin didn’t usually fall for such things, or maybe he didn’t want to admit that both Y/N and Minho had outwit him.

The eldest grandson didn’t like being outwitted. But Minho was extremely good at doing just that.

───────────────────────

Y/N observed Minho intently, her gaze lingering on him as he worked diligently on his laptop at the kitchen counter. Taking in the sight of his focused expression, lit up by the bright screen in front of him, the sleeves of his button-up pushed back to his elbows. The unkempt sight of Minho was something only she got to see, but then again, there were other forms of Minho that only she got to see. The thought of it makes her cheeks flush, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the laser visioned man across her.

“What kind of dirty thoughts are you thinking?” Minho’s teasing voice broke through whatever she was thinking, his fingers not missing a beat on the keyboard as he glanced up at her with a smug smile.

“Let’s get married tomorrow.” Y/N blurted out instead, her lashes batting in front of his taken aback expression.

Minho’s initial surprise slowly melted into a low chuckle as he processed her words. His gaze softened with affection and amusement.

“You sure?” He asked, seeking confirmation.

Without hesitation, she nodded, her hand shooting up to rest over her heart.

“I can marry you whenever you’re free. Morning, day, or night.” She affirmed, her grin widening.

Minho leaned in closer, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“I don’t think the marriage bureau is open at night.” He teased gently with a chuckle.

She opened her mouth to say something in return, perhaps even convince him that it was something they needed to do first thing in the morning, but he beat her to it and spoke out first.

“I think your father will kill me if we do that though. Are you okay with that?” He asked, still smiling.

Y/N paused, momentarily at a loss for words. Straightening on the high chair, she cleared her throat.

“I heard you met Son Haneul yesterday.” She changed the subject with a curious tilt of her head.

His smile fell as he slowly pushed the laptop aside, signaling that he was fully attentive.

“She was acting as if you had stolen me from her.”

Y/N laughed, finding his words amusing. It was ironic. She was the one who should feel as though Minho was about to be stolen from her.

“I bet you’re loving that you’ve got two women cast under your spell.” She said, rolling her eyes as she leaned on the counter, resting her chin in her palms.

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’ve got more than two women under my spell. But the only one who has me completely bound is right here in front of me.” He confessed softly, his eyes locking with hers in earnest.

Y/N was momentarily taken aback by his candidness her heart swelling with love for him. Unable to find words to respond to him with, she chose to laugh instead.

“As long as you’re aware.” Her fingers reached over to the laptop, turning it to see what he had been working on.

“Presentation for the shareholder meeting?” She asked, glancing up at him.

Minho nodded and gestured for her to continue reading. She did so with a serious gaze, nodding along as she went through the document.

“You know, someone let it slip to Jungshin that the man who marries me would get ten percent of shares in Rose Enterprise.” Y/N said, looking up at Minho, who furrowed his brows in surprise.

The man in front of her was clearly caught off guard by the revelation. A detail he hadn’t been aware of. But it made sense. In their world, such stakes were significant, even if they seemed trivial at first glance. Though ten percent might not sound like a lot, it was. And of course Lee Jungshin didn’t want to miss out on that.

Made it even more obvious why he had tried so hard to chase Y/N.

Minho was silent, as if he was in deep thought.

“You had a golden ticket the whole time, and you didn’t even know it huh?” She laughed, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Instead of laughing Minho reached over to grasp her hand in his, thumb caressing her skin.

“Jungshin isn’t a good person. Who knows what he could do for that ten percent.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, seeing the look of concern, he didn’t find her joke funny, nor that the situation called for it. But she was aware Minho wouldn’t allow Jungshin to do anything for that ten percent.

“That’s why I have you. My big bad protector.” She laughed again, trying to lighten the mood as her other hand clasped over his grip on her.

And of course he only nodded, smiling slightly in response before bringing the laptop back to him.

But what Park Hyunmin had said last time played in his head.

“But if anything goes astray, just know, I don’t give second chances easily.”

The first branch of the Lee family had something brewing against him. And they were going to give it their all. If Minho failed…

With Minho out of the way and Jungshin as President, he could easily marry into the Park family if Park Hyunmin saw it fit, and Y/N wouldn’t be able to do anything about it besides comply.

Minho couldn’t let that happen. Minho wouldn’t let that happen.

Y/N was his.

Even if he fails. Even if she suddenly decided she no longer loved him.

No one could have her.

His eyes flickered up to take in the sight of Y/N treading around the dining table, busying herself while he worked.

Minho wasn’t a dancer, but he danced effortlessly to her tune. She had him completely tied.

───────────────────────

The chairman reviewed his re-written will for the third time this month. Though the beneficiary remained unchanged, various details had shifted.

“I think this might be the final version. Tell Attorney Goh he can relax now.” The old man said with a chuckle, handing the document to Secretary Cha nonchalantly.

Secretary Cha examined the document once more, as he always did, before sealing it in the confidential envelope designated solely for the lawyer's eyes.

Secretary Cha asked, his tone neutral.

The chairman dipped his biscuit into his coffee, taking a quick bite of the soaked treat.

“Of course. Who else is competent enough to become Vice President at such a young age?” He said, his voice rising with pride.

“Only my son is capable of that.”

Secretary Cha cleared his throat, drawing the chairman’s attention back from his thoughts.

“What about your other sons?”

The mention of his older sons soured the chairman’s mood. His smile fell, replaced with a stern expression.

“They’re lucky if they’re even named in my inheritance distribution.” He grumbled, brushing crumbs from his fingers.

“Doyoung was never able to surpass his brother. And his sons are just like him. Mooyoung was always a conniving one, never achieving anything without sticking his nose into dirty business. And we all know Jungshin is doing exactly that as we speak.” He continued, frustration dripping from his words.

His hatred for his older sons was palpable.

“But my youngest.” Chairman Lee’s tone softened.

“My youngest is just like me. He’s observing. Cautious. He understands their nature and will always come out on top.” The old man’s favoritism was evident and unabashed.

Secretary Cha placed the envelope into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and stood at attention, as if he had more to convey.

The chairman glanced at his loyal secretary, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

“Your youngest son is looking into Yoon Sooyeon.” Secretary Cha reported.

Chairman Lee’s expression softened at the mention of the name he hadn’t heard in decades.

“His new secretary has uncovered something. I’m certain Vice President Lee is aware that she is not his birth mother.”

The information was less dramatic than the chairman had anticipated. Minho had only scratched the surface, yet his determination was evident. The chairman was impressed by how quickly he was pursuing this matter. The rumors about the Lee family hound was right, once he bites, he doesn’t easily let it go.

And Minho was only going to dig deeper.

“He wants to tackle everything at once, doesn’t he?” Chairman Lee mused.

Which he had guessed correctly. The youngest son wanted to get rid of all his problems, his curiosities one after the other. Ticking them off a check-list.

“He’s always been too eager.” The chairman said with a serious tone, glancing at Secretary Cha once more.

“The truth can either make or break a man…Do you think my son will break after discovering the truth?” Chairman Lee asked, though it was more a rhetorical question.

The intensity of his gaze made Secretary Cha shift slightly.

“It’s about time he learns the truth, isn’t it?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

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