#jeno fluff

[strrykais]

ᝰ.ᐟ off the record

10 - drop your pants boy

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authors note: the contact names changed bc i got a new phone and LOST EVERYTHING !!!

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[kiszjuli]

・── unspoken feelings .ᐟ (L.JN)

(제노) ; fem!reader x jeno

──in which jeno gets in a fight at a dorm party because he just can’t stand hearing the way those jerks talk about you. he ends up right at your dorm reluctant to share the reason. the words he exits with leave the already brewing tension between you two even stronger.

genre. drama. angst(?). ; tags. protective!jeno. push and pull tension. mentions of blood, bruises, etc. cursing. unspoken romance. w.c. 1.2k

you hear the knock at your door just past midnight, hesitant but firm. there was a dorm party happening just downstairs, which you just didn’t feel like being apart of tonight. frowning, you set your phone down and cross the dorm suite to answer, only to freeze the second you see who’s standing on the other side.

lee jeno.

deep down the boy you liked, but couldn’t be with, things were just complicated.

his jaw was tight, his breathing steady yet slightly uneven, like he’d been exerting himself. the hallway light casts sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the small cut on his cheekbone and the bruise forming just below his jaw. his dark grey t-shirt is stretched tight over his chest, and there’s a small brownish stain near his rib.

“what the—” you open the door wider, stepping closer. “jeno, what happened?”

“can i come in?” his voice is low and rough.

you don’t hesitate, letting him inside before glancing down the hallway to make sure no one saw him like this. as soon as the door shuts behind him, you turn, eyes scanning over his injuries. “did you get into a fight?”

“it’s not a big deal.” his tone was dismissive, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him.

“not a big deal?” you huff, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward the bathroom. he doesn’t resist, letting you pull him along. the overhead light flickers on, illuminating the fresh bruises and the redness around his knuckles. you reach for the first aid kit under the sink, your mind racing.

“sit,” you tell him, nodding toward the closed toilet.

jeno exhales sharply through his nose but obeys, leaning back a little as he watches you. he was too calm—too unaffected.

you wet a cloth and stand in front of him. you grab his chin softly, tilting his head up and gently dabbing at the cut on his cheek. his jaw twitches, but he doesn’t move away. “who was it?” you ask.

“doesn’t matter.”

you lips press into a line. you’ve known jeno long enough to recognize when he’s deflecting. “where else are you hurt?”

“nowhere.”

“jeno.”

he just stares at you.

“i saw the stain,” you say.

you don’t have time to argue with him. you reach for his shirt and he raises an eyebrow but obliges. with a heavy sigh, he lifts his shirt just enough for you to see the darkening bruise across his ribs. a cut trails along the bottom of his side, bleeding slowly but not deeply.

“god, jeno,” you murmur, kneeling in front of him. the sight of the injury makes your stomach churn.

he just shrugs, his lips tight.“i’ll be fine,” he mutters.

you don’t even think before grabbing the disinfectant, pouring some onto another cloth. “this is gonna sting.”

“i can handle it.”

of course, he can. jeno doesn’t even flinch when you press the cloth against his skin. but you do see the way his fingers curl into fists, the way his shoulders stiffen. he was holding it in.

you work in silence, carefully wrapping a bandage around his torso. his skin is warm under your fingertips, muscles tensing every time you shift your touch. he was so still, so quiet, and it only makes your concern grow.

“you shouldn’t have fought,” you murmur, securing the bandage.

his expression darkens. “they were talking about you.”

you freeze. you slowly lift your gaze to his. “…what?”

he looks away, jaw clenched. “some guys at the party. saying shit about you. i wasn’t gonna let it slide.”

your chest tightens. “jeno..”

“i don’t regret it.” he cuts you off before you can even start. his voice is firm, final. “i’d do it again.”

you exhale sharply, standing up and crossing your arms. his eyes follow you as you stand in front of him again. “you can’t just go around getting into fights because of me.”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze heavy. “so what, you wanted me to let them talk? i wasn’t gonna stand there and let them just—“ he stops himself, exhaling through his nose. “you don’t get it.”

“then make me get it,” you challenge.

silence.

jeno runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders shifting. He looks up at you then, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. for a second, it seems like he might say something, might finally let you in—but instead, he just shakes his head.

you sigh, figuring he wouldn’t answer. “you can’t keep doing this,” you say finally, voice steady but soft. “fighting for me… i don’t want you getting hurt because of something someone said.”

jeno doesn’t answer right away. his jaw flexes, and he tilts his head slightly, as if debating whether to speak at all. but then, his voice comes low.

“i’m not sorry i fought for you.” he exhales, something shifting in his eyes. “i won’t ever be.”

your breath catches in your throat. the weight of his words is unexpected, heavy in a way you don’t know how to respond to. there’s a quiet tension between you now, different from the one you’ve grown accustomed to anytime you two talked.

before you can speak, jeno moves. his hand lifts, and his fingers brush against your forearm, tracing lightly along your skin before settling just above your wrist. his touch isn’t tight, isn’t possessive, but it’s grounding. he held onto you like he needed you to understand.

“I couldn’t just stand there,” he murmurs. his thumb ghosts over your skin, warm and steady. “i care about you…more than you know. and…hearing them talk about you like that… acting like they could say whatever the fuck they wanted?” he shakes his head slightly, voice rougher now. “yeah, hell no.”

you pulse jumps under his fingertips. his touch lingers, just enough to make your breath catch, just enough to make you hyperaware of the heat between you. you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped over his protective words either.

“you don’t have to do this for me, jeno,” you whisper, but there’s no edge to your voice now, just quiet concern. “i can take care of myself.”

his fingers press just slightly against your skin, a barely-there squeeze before he finally (reluctantly) lets go.

“i know,” he says, softer now. “but that doesn’t mean i won’t.”

the silence that follows is thick and charged. you don’t know what to say, and he doesn’t offer anything else. he just watches you for a moment longer, then stands, his movements slow, deliberate.

you watch as tugs his shirt back down and rolls his sore shoulder once. he moves toward the dorm door, and you think that’s it—he’s going to leave just like that.

but he pauses.

with his back to you, his voice comes quieter this time, more careful.

“they shouldn’t have been saying those things about you,” he murmurs. “but maybe… if they knew you were mine, they wouldn’t have.”

the already heavy air in the room shifts. your breath catches.

and then, just like that, he’s gone.

leaving you standing there, his words hanging between you, heavy and unanswered.

—

[ljxlj48]

My Duty As Princess

Chapter 1

Lee Jeno x fem reader

01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, epilogue

Genre: arranged marriage au! royalty au!

Warnings: none

Word Count: 15K

Author's Note: Is it stupid to be posting this again? I have already done a rewrite of this story once and now i'm posting another rewrite? idk if this doesn't go well I guess i can always delete it. I also have started taking down some other stories, mainly because they horrifically bad, like it was just bad writing lol. I also want to redo all my work posted on here, but that's gonna take time. So we'll start with this story again lol. hugs and kisses to anyone reading <3

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

The journey from the northern airstrip to the Northcy palace was grueling: a ten-hour flight followed by an hour-long car ride. By the time Princess (Y/n) arrived at Norhall Palace, it was the middle of the night. The grand halls of the palace were eerily quiet, and the only ones there to greet her were queen Jaeyeon and four maids. The lack of fanfare was a stark reminder of the tension that still lingered between the two kingdoms.

“My dear, you must be exhausted,” the queen said warmly, though her tone carried a regal authority. “Please, come inside.” The queen was a striking figure—tall, slim, and impeccably dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit paired with a flowing white coat that brushed the floor. A delicate silver crown rested atop her head, but her presence alone would have been enough to command respect. She carried herself with the grace and poise of someone born to rule, her posture perfect and her gaze steady. With a gentle wave of her hand, she led the princess and her entourage inside.

The queen and her maids escorted (Y/n) to her chambers. “You may freshen up,” the queen said, her voice calm but firm. “When you’re ready, one of the handmaids will inform me. I’ll ensure you’re served a proper meal before you rest.” Her words were polite, but there was an underlying formality that reminded (Y/n) of the delicate situation she was in.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” (Y/n) replied with a respectful bow, masking her unease. As the queen left, (Y/n)’s two maids helped her undress and prepared the bath, while two of the queen’s maids stayed to assist. Outside the chamber doors, two guards stood watch, their presence a silent reminder that, until the marriage was finalized, she was still in enemy territory.

After her bath, the princess stood before an ornate mirror, her reflection staring back at her with a hollow expression. Her thoughts drifted to home as her maids, Fei and Mei, moved quietly around her, helping her dress. The twins had been by her side for as long as she could remember. Though they looked nearly identical—with the same sharp features, dark hair, and graceful movements—their personalities couldn’t have been more different. Fei was practical and no-nonsense, her hands steady and her words few, while Mei was warm and talkative, always quick with a reassuring smile or a gentle joke. Both were only a few years older than the princess, and they had become her maids when she was just ten years old. Over the years, they had grown into more than just servants; they were her confidantes, her protectors, and the closest thing she had to real friends. They had been there for her through every triumph and every hardship, and now, even in this foreign palace, their presence was a small comfort in an otherwise unbearable situation.

The queen herself escorted the princess to the dining hall, her steps measured and deliberate, as though every movement was calculated to remind the princess of her place. The hall was vast and cold, its high ceilings and ornate decorations doing little to dispel the suffocating sense of isolation that clung to the air. A single long table dominated the room, but only one place was set—a stark, unspoken reminder that the princess was alone in this foreign palace, surrounded by strangers who saw her as little more than a political tool.

“Please, enjoy this meal before you retire for the evening,” the queen said, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of authority. The meal before (Y/n) was lavish: roasted meats glistening with glaze, steaming vegetables arranged like works of art, and freshly baked bread still warm from the oven, all served on fine bone china plates. Yet, the opulence felt like a cruel joke, a blatant display of excess that only highlighted the suffering of her people. How could she sit here and eat while her kingdom starved?

“I shall have meals prepared for your maids and guards in the servants’ hall,” the queen added, her tone dismissive, as though the matter were already settled.

The princess turned sharply to face the queen, her voice firm despite the knot of anger tightening in her chest. “They can dine with me.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. “It is not proper, Princess (Y/n).”

The princess opened her mouth to argue, to fire back with another sharp retort, but a subtle movement caught her eye. Fei, standing silently nearby, gave the slightest shake of her head. Her eyes, steady and unwavering, reminded the princess of the delicate balance she had to maintain. Listen. Follow. Obey. The words echoed in (Y/n)’s mind, a bitter pill she had no choice but to swallow.

“You are right, Your Majesty,” the princess said, lowering her head slightly in a gesture of respect that felt like a betrayal of her own pride. “I apologize.”

The queen watched her carefully, her gaze sharp and assessing, as though she were weighing the princess’s every word and gesture. “I have made arrangements for your maids in the servants’ quarters,” she continued, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “And your guards will stay with the other soldiers in the dormitory.”

(Y/n) forced a polite smile, though it felt like a mask cracking under the strain. “I thank you, Your Majesty, for your hospitality,” she said, bowing again, the motion stiff and unnatural.

“I hope you rest well, Princess,” the queen replied, her voice firm and final. With that, she turned and left, her entourage trailing behind her like shadows. The princess stood frozen for a moment, watching them go, before finally sinking into the chair at the head of the table.

Alone in the cavernous hall, (Y/n) picked at her meal, her stomach churning with a mix of hunger and dread. The silence pressed in on her, broken only by the occasional clink of silverware against the bone china, a sound that seemed to echo endlessly in the empty room. Her mind raced, torn between anger and fear. Anger at her parents for forcing her into this arrangement, anger at Northcy for its role in her people’s suffering, and anger at herself for feeling so powerless. Fear, too, gnawed at her, fraying her nerves. Fear of what the future held, fear of the man she was being forced to marry, and fear that all of this—her sacrifice, her pain—would ultimately be in vain.

She stared at the food before her, her appetite gone. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the table, mirroring the darkness creeping into her thoughts. She clenched her fists under the table, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. This isn’t fair, she thought, the words burning in her mind like a mantra. But fairness had no place in this world, and she knew it. All she could do was endure—for her people, for her kingdom, for the slim hope that this marriage might bring them peace.

-

As the queen made her way to her chambers, she found her son pacing restlessly outside her doors. His hands were clenched into fists, and his expression was a mix of frustration and defiance. “My boy,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “it’s very late. You should be asleep.”

“Mother,” Jeno said, stopping abruptly. He turned to her maids, his tone sharp. “Leave us.” The maids hesitated, glancing at the queen for permission. With a slight nod, the queen dismissed them, and they retreated down the hall.

Once they were alone, Jeno followed his mother into her room, his agitation palpable. He moved to the tea set on the side table, pouring a cup for his mother with practiced ease, though his movements were stiff with tension. The queen sat gracefully, watching him with a knowing gaze as he began to speak.

“Do you truly expect me to marry that girl, Mother?” Jeno asked, his voice rising slightly. “An alliance could be negotiated without marriage. She offers nothing of value to our kingdom or our family. There are plenty of women within the council—women of influence, women who understand our ways—who would make far better brides.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I barely want to marry at all, let alone to a stranger. You can’t seriously think this is good for anyone.”

The queen sipped her tea, her expression unreadable. Jeno’s complaints were not unexpected, but they still grated on her patience. She remembered Princess (Y/n) well—a sharp, observant child she had met years ago during a summit to discuss the war. The girl had been no older than nine or ten at the time, but even then, she had carried herself with a quiet dignity and wisdom far beyond her years. The queen had seen something in her then, something that had stayed with her ever since. (Y/n) was only three years younger than Jeno, and the queen had no doubt that she would grow into a formidable leader. Marrying her was not just a political move; it was an opportunity to unite two kingdoms under a shared vision.

“I do expect you to marry her,” the queen said, her voice steady but firm. “And I do believe she will be great—not only for our family but for Northcy as well. So, I expect you to be up early tomorrow, eager to meet the princess and make a good impression.”

Jeno stared at her, disbelief etched across his face. “Mother, you can’t be serious. You want me to wine and dine Princess (Y/n)? The stubborn, headstrong princess who doesn’t even care about her own title? She’s not exactly the type to play along with your plans.”

The queen set her teacup down with deliberate precision, her gaze sharpening. “I am entirely serious, Crown Prince Lee Jeno,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “And I expect you to be at breakfast tomorrow, prepared to meet your future bride. There will be no complaints, no resistance, and no disrespect. Do I make myself clear?”

Jeno flinched at the use of his full title. He knew what it meant when his mother addressed him so formally—he had crossed a line, and there was no room for negotiation. He clenched his jaw, his pride warring with his sense of duty. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes, Mother,” he said grudgingly. “You’ve made yourself clear.”

“Very well,” the queen said, standing to signal the end of the conversation. “Good night, my son.”

Jeno bowed slightly, his movements stiff with suppressed frustration, before turning to leave. As he walked out, the queen watched him go, her expression softening for a moment. She knew this was not easy for him, but she also knew it was necessary. Jeno was young and impulsive, but he would learn in time. And Princess (Y/n)—well, she was exactly the kind of woman who could challenge him, temper him, and help him grow into the king he was meant to be. The queen only hoped Jeno would see that before it was too late.

-

The sun rose bright and early, casting a golden glow over the Northcy palace courtyard. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. Princess (Y/n) made her way to the pavilion where breakfast was set, her small entourage trailing behind her. Fei and Mei, her twin maids, walked a few steps behind, their movements synchronized and unobtrusive. Though identical in appearance—both with sharp features, dark hair pinned neatly back, and hands clasped respectfully in front of them—their personalities were worlds apart. Fei’s expression was calm and composed, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any potential threat, while Mei’s softer demeanor showed in the way she occasionally glanced at the princess with quiet concern.

Leading the way were the princess’s two personal guards, Chan and Hyunjin. Chan, the older of the two, walked with a confident stride, his broad shoulders and steady gaze making it clear he took his duty seriously. His uniform, though immaculate, bore subtle signs of wear—a testament to the years he’d spent protecting the princess. Hyunjin, taller and more lithe, moved with a graceful precision, his sharp eyes darting around as if expecting danger at every turn. Both guards refused to leave the princess’s side, their loyalty unwavering even in this foreign palace. Despite the alliance between the kingdoms, old grudges and lingering tensions made them wary. They knew better than to let their guard down.

“People will gossip if you two don’t leave me be,” the princess said, her voice light but tinged with exasperation as they approached the pavilion. Her lips curving into a faint smile, as Chan glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I’m perfectly capable of walking to breakfast without an armed escort.”

Chan’s expression remained serious, though there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes as he met her gaze. “My princess,” he said, his voice low but firm, turning to face forward again, “we’d be executed if anything happened to you. Following you wherever you go is the best way to ensure that doesn’t happen.” His tone left no room for argument, though the princess knew it came from a place of deep loyalty—and something more. Chan had joined the army at 18, risen to become her personal guard by 20, and somewhere along the way, his devotion had deepened into something unspoken. At 24, he was as much her protector as he was her friend, though neither of them dared to acknowledge the unspoken tension between them.

Hyunjin, ever the pragmatist, added with a smirk as he too glanced back at the princess, “Besides, who else is going to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet?” The princess shot him a mock glare, though the corners of her lips twitched upward. The banter was familiar, a small comfort in an otherwise unfamiliar place.

Fei and Mei exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing, their loyalty to the princess evident in the way they adjusted her shawl or smoothed a stray strand of hair without being asked. The five of them—princess, maids, and guards—had spent the past three years practically inseparable. They were more than an entourage; they were a family, bound by duty and shared experiences. The princess was rarely alone, save for the quiet moments in the dead of night when sleep finally claimed her.

As they reached the pavilion, the queen rose gracefully from her seat, her presence commanding immediate attention. Dressed in a flowing gown of deep emerald green, her silver crown catching the morning light, she exuded an air of regal authority. Her sharp eyes softened slightly as they landed on the princess.

“Princess (Y/n),” the queen called, her voice warm but carrying an undercurrent of formality. “Come, dear. Take a seat.” She gestured to the chair beside her, then glanced at the princess’s entourage. “You may dismiss your guards and handmaids. They can take their meal in the servants’ hall.”

The princess hesitated, her gaze flickering to Chan and Hyunjin, who stood like statues at her sides. She opened her mouth to protest, but Fei’s subtle shake of her head stopped her. The queen’s tone, though polite, left no room for negotiation. With a small nod, the princess turned to her guards and maids. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a note of gratitude and reassurance. “I’ll be fine.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, but he bowed slightly. “As you wish, Your Highness.” Hyunjin gave a curt nod, his sharp eyes lingering on the queen for a moment before he turned to follow Fei and Mei as they retreated.

The princess took her seat, her posture straight and her expression composed, though her hands clenched subtly in her lap. The queen’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, assessing, before she smiled and gestured to the lavish spread before them. “I hope you’re hungry, my dear. We have much to discuss.”

Breakfast passed in a blur for the princess. She spoke only when spoken to, and even then, her answers were brief and measured. The king, seated at the head of the table, was a striking figure—tall and broad-shouldered, with a face that bore the weight of years of ruling. His silver-streaked hair and sharp, calculating eyes gave him an air of authority, but his demeanor was reserved, almost distant. Though he was polite, his kindness felt formal, lacking the warmth of true welcome. The end of the war had not erased decades of tension, and the king had more pressing concerns than making small talk with his future daughter-in-law. Between planning the wedding and solidifying the fragile alliance between the two kingdoms, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Jeno, seated across from the princess, was uncharacteristically quiet. He picked at his food, his usual confidence replaced by a tense silence. It was clear he didn’t want to risk angering his mother, whose sharp glances in his direction were enough to keep him in line. An outburst from Jeno would only provoke his father, and no one at the table wanted to witness the king’s temper. The queen, ever the diplomat, tried to steer the conversation, her voice light and encouraging as she asked questions and made comments to fill the awkward silences. But her efforts fell flat, met with stiff replies and forced smiles. The meal dragged on, the clink of silverware against porcelain echoing in the heavy air, a stark reminder of the unresolved tensions simmering beneath the surface.

When the king finished his meal, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The sudden movement prompted everyone else at the table to rise as well. “I have pressing matters to attend to,” the king said, his voice clipped and formal. He turned to the princess, his expression softening slightly, though his tone remained distant. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess (Y/n). I look forward to getting to know you better.” He gave a brief nod in her direction, a gesture of respect that felt more obligatory than genuine.

The princess responded with a graceful, deep bow, her movements precise and regal. The queen and Jeno followed suit, bowing their heads as the king strode out of the room, his presence lingering like a shadow even after he was gone.

As soon as the door closed behind his father, Jeno seized the opportunity to escape. “I also have matters to attend to,” he said curtly, already turning to leave. His tone was dismissive, his body language tense, as if he couldn’t wait to put distance between himself and the awkwardness of the breakfast table.

But before he could take more than a step, the queen’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Jeno,” she called, her tone firm but not unkind. She paused, letting the weight of her words settle, before adding, “You should show the princess around.” Her voice softened slightly, though the underlying expectation was clear. This wasn’t a suggestion—it was a command.

Jeno froze, his back still turned to the table. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue, but then he exhaled sharply and turned back around, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Mother,” he said, though the reluctance in his voice was unmistakable.

“Jeno can show you around the palace,” the queen said, wearing a tight smile.  Silently hoping that none of this will be in vain.  “It will help you become more familiar with the palace and with the prince.”  

“Yes, your Majesty,” the princess said in the most neutral tone.  The princess bowed again this time to the queen, before she turned to follow after Jeno.  

The princess followed a few steps behind Prince Jeno as he led her through the palace, his gestures half-hearted as he pointed out random objects and rooms. “That’s a vase from the southern region,” he said, barely glancing at the ornate piece. “And over there’s a painting of some ancestor no one remembers.” His tone was dismissive, his words clipped, as if he were going through the motions of a chore he deeply resented.

Jeno’s appearance didn’t help the awkwardness. He wore a simple pair of black dress pants and a light blue button-up shirt, the sleeves haphazardly rolled up to his elbows. His black hair was tousled, as though he’d just rolled out of bed, and his overall demeanor suggested he’d rather be anywhere else. The princess, in contrast, walked with her usual poise, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her expression calm but guarded.

They eventually entered a room that could only be the palace library. It was breathtaking, like something out of a storybook—walls lined with books from floor to ceiling, their spines a patchwork of colors and languages. The air smelled faintly of aged paper and wood polish, and the quiet hum of the space felt almost sacred. The princess couldn’t help but drift toward the shelves, her fingers lightly tracing the spines of the books. Some were written in an ancient Modian script, a language so old it was nearly forgotten. The sight of it stirred something in her, a connection to her homeland that felt both comforting and painful.

Jeno leaned against a nearby table, watching her with a mix of curiosity and irritation. “You don’t talk much, do you?” he asked, breaking the silence. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, as if he were testing her.

The princess paused, her hand still resting on a book. “I was raised to only speak when spoken to,” she replied evenly, her voice calm but firm. “My father was… keen on traditions.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Traditions?” he echoed, his tone laced with mockery. “Something like women are only meant to be child-bearers?”

The princess stiffened, her hand dropping from the shelf. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. It was no secret that the Modia royals were deeply traditional, but the way Jeno said it—with that casual, almost mocking tone—felt like a deliberate jab. She held his gaze for a moment, the tension between them thickening, before she replied, her voice steady but carrying a quiet challenge. “Traditions can be… complicated. But they don’t define everyone who follows them.”

Jeno’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, he looked almost surprised. The awkward silence returned, heavier than before, as the two of them stood there, the weight of their roles and the expectations placed upon them hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

The rest of the tour was met with silence; Jeno continued to point out things to the princess, though she didn’t respond nor show any interest.  Jeno led her back to her chambers and bid her a farewell until the evening meal.  

The prince wanted to smack himself for his comment.  His mouth was moving faster than his brain at that moment.  He didn’t want to make such a horrible first impression, but it seems the damage has already been done.  

After the doors closed, separating the princess and prince.  The princess couldn’t help but let out the most exasperated sigh, the usual regal composure slipping away.  As she sunk down onto the couch that laid out in the front room.  Fei and Mei had already been in the room, preparing clothing for the evening meal. They exchanged a quick glance, noticing the tension in their mistress.  

“How was the tour, Your Highness?” Mei asked cautiously as she set down the tea tray in front of the princess on the coffee table.  

The princess groaned, sitting up to face her maids.  “Awkward.  Infuriating.  Take your pick.”  The princess picked up the cup, sipping the tea as her brows furrowed.  She thought back to the prince’s comments.  “Prince Jeno is truly…insufferable.  He made no effort to give a proper tour.”  The princess set down her cup, her posture straightening, “which was fine, I did not want to be with him either.”  She huffed, “but then he decides to speak to me and to what?  To mock me.” 

Fei, who had been folding a shawl, paused and turned to face the princess, her sharp eyes narrowing.  “Mock you, Your Highness?” 

The princess sighed, “he made a comment about Modian traditions–asking if women were only meant to bear children.”  The princess looked down at her lap for a moment, before returning Fei’s gaze.  “Could you imagine, me, reduced to nothing more than someone that bears children.” 

The princess stood up from her seat, her face harding with resolve.  “I will not be reduced to just his bride.” 

“Of course not, Your Highness,” Fei spoke with the same resolve clear in her tone.  “You are far more than just his bride.  Your strength, Your intelligence, your dedication to your people… these are things he cannot take from you.” 

“I know,”  the princess said, as she felt a tear slide down her cheek.  How she desperately missed home.  How she desperately wanted out of this marriage, this alliance, this palace, this country.  Only a day here and she could feel it building up in her.  Her disdain would drown her, if she didn’t find a way to win.  “But I feel so alone.  I feel so helpless.” 

“You’re not alone your highness,” Mei spoke softly, moving to stand with the princess. “We are right here and we’ll be right here, always.” Both girls looked at the princess, as they stood with her.  Silent reminders that the princess is not alone.  

“Thank you both,” the princess said with a smile.  “You two will be the only people to ensure I remain sane.”  

“Who says you’re sane now?” Mei asked, with a smirk, causing the princess to scoff.  Her smile growing as the tension begins to ease.  

“You best bathe before dinner,” Fei spoke up.  The princess simply nodded her head, a bath at this time sounded nice.  As the maids helped her prepare for the evening meal, the princess felt a flicker of reassurance.  No matter what challenges lay ahead, she knew she wouldn’t face them alone. And that night as she lay in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling above, she made a silent vow: she would not let Jeno—or anyone—define her worth. She was a princess, a future queen, and she would rise above this, no matter how difficult the path might be.

-

After her arrival the days began to blur together as winter approached, its icy grip tightening on the Northcy Kingdom. A month had already passed since the princess arrived, and the once-mild chill in the air had deepened into a biting cold. Being so far north, the kingdom was no stranger to harsh winters, and soon the landscape would be blanketed in snow—a phenomenon the princess had never experienced. Coming from Modia, a tropical paradise where the sun kissed the earth year-round, she had initially been excited at the prospect of seeing snow for the first time. But now, as the temperature dropped, she found herself shivering under layers of wool and fur, unprepared for the relentless cold that seeped into her bones.

The princess’s days were filled with a whirlwind of duties, as were Jeno’s. As Crown Prince, Jeno was already an active member of the council, immersed in the intricacies of governance and statecraft. His role required him to understand every facet of ruling before he could ascend the throne, and his days were a relentless cycle of meetings, debates, and paperwork. The princess, meanwhile, was tasked with familiarizing herself with her new home. She spent hours with the queen, learning about the kingdom’s departments, its noble families, and the labyrinthine politics of the Northcy court. It was a stark contrast to the Modian system she had grown up with.

In Modia, the council consisted of ten high houses, though only three held real power. The other seven were little more than figureheads, their influence symbolic at best. Northcy, however, was a different beast entirely. Jeno’s future council would include eighteen noble families, a royal advisor, two “special members” whose roles were unclear, and a general who held two votes—a detail that baffled the princess. The terminology alone was overwhelming. What Modia called “high houses,” Northcy referred to as “noble families.” The sheer volume of information was staggering, and the princess found herself buried under endless stacks of papers, trying to memorize names, titles, and alliances. The queen, ever gracious, guided her through it all, explaining that it was her duty as queen to oversee the budgets and entertain the noble families—a responsibility the princess would soon inherit.

Despite their shared obligations, the princess and Jeno rarely crossed paths. Their interactions were limited to formal evening meals with the king and queen, where conversation was polite but strained. Jeno was often quiet, his attention divided between his food and his thoughts, while the princess maintained her composure, speaking only when addressed. The tension between them was palpable, a silent reminder of the forced nature of their union.  The princess began to wonder if this is all her life in Northcy would amount to. Endless studies and forced meals with the man that was supposed to be her husband. 

One evening, as the family gathered for dinner, the queen broke the silence with a surprising suggestion. “Jeno,” she said, her tone light but deliberate, “why don’t you introduce (Y/n) to your brothers tomorrow?”

Jeno nearly choked on his drink, his eyes widening in surprise. The princess, too, was taken aback. In all her years of studying Northcy’s history and politics, she had never heard mention of Jeno having brothers. The official records stated clearly that King Lee Donghae and Queen Lee Jaeyeon had only one child: Crown Prince Lee Jeno. The queen’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

“Very well, Mother,” Jeno replied after a moment, his voice carefully neutral. He avoided the princess’s gaze, his expression unreadable.

The princess’s mind raced. Brothers? How was it possible that Jeno had siblings, and why had they never been mentioned before? The Northcy court was already a maze of secrets and power struggles, and this revelation only added to the mystery. She glanced at the queen, who was calmly sipping her tea, her face betraying nothing. The king, seated at the head of the table, remained silent, his sharp eyes fixed on his plate.

As the meal continued, the princess found herself unable to focus on the conversation. Her thoughts were consumed by questions about Jeno’s brothers—who they were, why they had been kept hidden, and what their existence meant for her future. The differences between Modia and Northcy had never felt more pronounced. In Modia, transparency was valued, and the royal family’s lineage was a matter of public record. Here, in Northcy, it seemed that even the most basic truths could be shrouded in secrecy.

The princess’s unease grew as she realized just how little she truly knew about the kingdom she was about to call home—and the family she was about to marry into.

When dinner ended, Jeno rose abruptly from his seat, the legs of his chair scraping against the marble floor. The sound cut through the lingering silence like a blade. “Princess,” he said, his voice firm and carrying an edge that demanded attention, “allow me to escort you back to your chambers.” His face was a mask of neutrality, carefully composed, but his eyes betrayed him. They burned with something unspoken—anger, regret, or perhaps a flicker of vulnerability. If only the princess could decipher the storm behind those dark, piercing eyes.

“Of course,” the princess replied, her tone calm and measured as she stood, offering a graceful bow to the queen before following Jeno. She kept a few steps behind him, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, her posture regal even in the face of his abruptness.

The queen watched them leave, her gaze lingering on the doorway long after they had disappeared. A small, hopeful smile touched her lips. Perhaps this was the beginning of something real. Perhaps her son was finally starting to accept the weight of this alliance, this union that would bind their kingdoms together. She dared to hope that he was growing up, even if just a little.

As the princess followed Jeno through the labyrinthine halls of the palace, she noticed something was amiss. He had taken a wrong turn—one that led away from her chambers. “Your Highness,” she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “This isn’t the way to my quarters.”

“Indulge me,” Jeno replied curtly, not bothering to look back. His tone left no room for argument, and though the princess’s instincts warned her to tread carefully, she followed him nonetheless. She had learned to pick her battles, and this was not one worth fighting—yet.

Finally, Jeno stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, its surface carved with intricate patterns of vines and crests. He pushed it open and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter first. The princess hesitated for a moment before stepping through the threshold, her breath catching as she took in the sight before her.

The grand hallway stretched endlessly, its polished marble floors gleaming under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers that hung like frozen stars from the vaulted ceiling. The walls were lined with towering portraits, each framed in ornate gilded wood that shimmered like liquid gold in the warm light. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and the faintest hint of oil paint, a testament to the centuries of history preserved within these walls. It was a gallery of power, of legacy, of secrets.

The princess’s eyes were drawn to the portrait closest to the door. It was a stunning piece, the brushstrokes capturing every detail with breathtaking precision. The subject was a young boy, no older than eleven or twelve, with dark black hair that contrasted sharply against his pale skin. His eyes, though painted, seemed to hold a depth of emotion that transcended the canvas. The princess stared at the portrait, her heart skipping a beat as she realized who it depicted. It was Jeno—Jeno as a child.

She turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed on the portrait, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. The silence between them was heavy, charged with unspoken words.

“My brother’s portrait used to hang here,” Jeno said finally, his voice low and tinged with bitterness. He still didn’t look at her, his eyes locked on the painting of his younger self. “It was a portrait of his mother holding him as a baby. It hung here for years, a reminder of his place in this family. Until the council decided he wasn’t good enough to be the heir.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “They decided I should be Crown Prince instead. Not because I was the oldest son of the king. No, because I was the only son of the queen—the true queen.”

The princess’s breath caught in her throat, but she remained silent, her eyes fixed on Jeno as he continued.

“Do you want to know how old my brother was when they stripped him of his future?” Jeno’s voice cracked with anger, though he kept it tightly controlled. “Fifteen. Fifteen years old, and they told him he would never be king—not because of anything he did, but because of who his mother was.”

“Your Highness,” the princess began, her voice soft but steady, though she wasn’t sure what to say. How could she respond to such raw pain, such anger?

Jeno finally turned to look at her, his eyes blazing. “You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Tomorrow, we’ll have lunch with my brothers. And then, Princess, you’ll understand why I can’t forgive the council for what they did.”

The princess nodded slowly, her mind racing. She didn’t know what to expect, but one thing was clear: the Northcy court was far more complicated—and far more dangerous—than she had ever imagined.

-

The next morning, the princess’s thoughts were consumed by Jeno’s revelation. Three brothers. How could she have spent an entire month in the palace without ever seeing or hearing about them? They had never joined the family for meals, never appeared in the halls, never been mentioned in passing. It was as if they didn’t exist—and yet, Jeno had spoken of them with such raw emotion. The mystery gnawed at her, making it impossible to focus as her maids helped her prepare for lunch.

“The prince said he has three brothers,” the princess murmured, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror. Fei knelt at her feet, lacing up her boots, while Mei stood behind her, tying the delicate bow at the back of her dress. “Three. And I’ve never even seen them.”

“You mentioned this last night, Your Highness,” Mei said gently, her fingers deftly securing the bow. “And again this morning.”

“And early this afternoon,” Fei added, glancing up briefly before returning to her task. “You’ve been… preoccupied.”

The princess sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I know. But he didn’t say much—just that there are three of them. He only talked about his oldest brother, how he was stripped of his title at fifteen by the council. Can you imagine?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mei said softly, her tone tinged with sympathy. “You’ve told us.”

The princess blinked, turning to look at her maids. “Have I really talked about it that much?”

Fei nodded, her expression kind but firm. “You have, Your Highness. It’s all you’ve been able to think about since last night.”

The princess turned back to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her with a furrowed brow. “It’s just… it’s been a month. How could something like this not have come up sooner? How could I not have known?”

Fei stood, brushing off her skirts as she met the princess’s gaze squarely. “Perhaps there’s a reason for that, Your Highness.”

“A reason?” the princess echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. “What reason could there be?”

Fei hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You’ve said it yourself. In all your studies of Northcy, there was no mention of any brothers. Clearly, they were meant to be kept a secret—not from everyone, but from you.”

The princess’s breath caught, the realization hitting her like a cold wave. “Because I’m still the enemy to them,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll always be the enemy to them.”

“We’ve been enemies for nearly a century, Your Highness,” Mei said gently, stepping forward to adjust the princess’s sleeve. “It’s going to take more than learning their ways to move forward. Trust isn’t built overnight.”

Before the princess could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the room, cutting through the heavy silence. All three women turned toward the door, their movements freezing for a moment. The princess’s heart quickened. It had to be Jeno, coming to escort her to lunch. The moment she had been both dreading and anticipating had arrived.

Fei and Mei exchanged a quick glance before Mei stepped forward to open the door. The princess straightened her posture, smoothing her dress and lifting her chin. Whatever awaited her at lunch, she would face it with the grace and poise expected of a princess. But as the door creaked open, revealing Jeno’s tall, imposing figure, she couldn’t shake the unease that coiled in her stomach. The secrets of the Northcy court were beginning to unravel, and she had a feeling that lunch would only bring more questions than answers.

The prince stood on the other side of the door, his expression unreadable, his posture stiff. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt tucked into black tailored pants, his attire simple yet commanding. His thoughts churned, a storm of doubt and reluctance. Is this the right time? he wondered. Should she really meet them now?  He understood the necessity of the princess becoming acquainted with his family, but this felt too soon, too personal. It was as if she were stepping into a part of his life he wasn’t ready to share—a part he had kept guarded for years.

“Shall we, Princess?” Jeno’s voice was cool, detached. He didn’t step into the room, didn’t cross the threshold. Instead, he remained in the hallway, maintaining a deliberate distance, as if to remind her—and himself—that this was merely duty, not choice.

The princess didn’t bother with a verbal response. Instead, she offered a graceful bow, her movements fluid and regal, before stepping out of the room. Her maids lingered behind, their eyes following her with quiet concern. As she joined Jeno in the hallway, Chan and Hyunjin fell into step behind her, their presence a silent but unwavering reminder of their loyalty.

Jeno noticed them immediately. He turned, his sharp gaze flickering to the guards trailing the princess. “You can dismiss your guards, Princess,” he said, his tone casual but firm. “They don’t need to escort you to lunch. I can handle that.”

The princess stopped,  the heels of her boots clicking softly against the marble floor. She turned to look at Chan and Hyunjin, her protectors. Chan’s jaw was clenched, his hands flexing at his sides as if ready to draw a weapon at a moment’s notice. Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze locked on Jeno, assessing him like a threat. The princess had to suppress a smirk. Her guards didn’t trust easily, and they certainly didn’t trust Jeno.

“I think it gives them peace of mind to follow, Your Highness,” the princess said, her voice calm but laced with steel. She tipped her head slightly, a gesture of respect that wasn’t quite genuine. “If you don’t mind, I would like them to stay.”

Jeno studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed his irritation. “It is your decision, Princess,” he said, his tone clipped.

The words stung, though Jeno hadn’t intended them to. Her decision? When had anything ever been her decision? From the moment this alliance was proposed, her life had been dictated by others—her parents, the council, the queen. Even now, as she stood in this foreign palace, she was a pawn in a game she hadn’t chosen to play. The bitterness of it burned in her chest, but she kept her face composed, her posture regal. She couldn’t afford to show weakness, not here, not now.

“Shall we?” Jeno repeated, gesturing down the hall with a sweep of his hand. His tone was polite, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable. He was as uncomfortable with this as she was, and that knowledge gave her a small, grim satisfaction.

The princess nodded, falling into step beside him. Chan and Hyunjin followed a few paces behind, their presence a silent but potent reminder that she wasn’t entirely alone in this. As they walked, the weight of Jeno’s words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. Her decision. The irony of it was almost too much to bear. But for now, she would play her part, even if it meant stepping further into a world that seemed determined to keep her at arm’s length.

When they arrived at the dining hall, Jeno placed a hand lightly on the small of the princess’s back, guiding her toward the table with a formality that felt performative and distant. Chan and Hyunjin remained at the entrance, their sharp eyes scanning the room as they took up their positions. They were close enough to watch but too far to hear much, a deliberate arrangement that left the princess feeling both guarded and exposed.

As they approached the table, Jeno began the introductions, his tone clipped but polite. The first to rise was the oldest brother, Taeyong. He was tall and lean, with a striking handsomeness that commanded attention. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes gave him an air of authority, but his smile—wide and almost childlike—softened his presence, making him seem approachable despite his imposing stature. “This is Taeyong,” Jeno said, his voice neutral, though the princess noticed the faintest flicker of respect in his eyes.

Next was Mark, the second brother. He was closer in age to Jeno, with pitch-black hair that fell slightly into his round, expressive eyes. His features were softer than Taeyong’s, with small lips that curved into a shy smile as he nodded in greeting. There was a quiet intensity about him, a sharpness in his gaze that suggested he missed very little, even if he chose not to speak much.

Finally, Jeno gestured to the youngest of the three, Donghyuck—or Haechan, as he was often called. His tan skin and round, cherubic face set him apart from his brothers, his puffy cheeks giving him a youthful, almost mischievous appearance. But it was his energy that truly stood out; he radiated a brightness that seemed to light up the room, his smile as warm and inviting as the sun itself. “We call him Haechan,” Jeno explained, his tone softening slightly, “because his personality is as bright as the sun.”

The princess studied each brother in turn, her mind racing to piece together the dynamics of this family. They were so different—in appearance, in demeanor, in the way they carried themselves—and yet there was an undeniable bond that tied them together. She could feel the weight of their shared history, the unspoken tensions and loyalties that shaped their interactions. This was more than just a family; it was a puzzle, one she was only beginning to unravel.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the princess, repeating her bow as always.  She could hear the faintest chuckles as she moved. 

“Jeno,” Haechan whined, “don’t make her perform such formal greetings.” 

The prince could feel the heat of irritation rise through him. He was not making the princess perform anything. 

“Princess (y/n), you don’t need to be so formal. It’s just lunch with family,” Taeyong spoke, his tone light and breezy.  His suggestion felt like a trap to the princess. Something to make her show her cards. A way to get her to prove she isn’t good enough. The princess was all too cautious. “Let’s sit.” 

The prince pulled out the chair for the princess. Although some would think his action was kind, the princess felt the action inauthentic. The prince had just been raised to be a gentleman regardless of feelings. 

The meal carried on with an unexpected ease, the conversation light and filled with stories of their youth. There was no talk of weddings or alliances, no probing questions about the princess’s knowledge of her kingdom or theirs. For the first time since her arrival, the atmosphere felt almost… normal. Like a simple lunch between brothers, free from the weight of politics and expectations.

The princess watched Jeno closely, struck by the change in him. In all the meals they had shared, she had never seen him smile—not truly. But here, surrounded by his brothers, his demeanor shifted entirely. His usual guardedness melted away, replaced by a warmth and ease she hadn’t thought him capable of. The difference was stark, almost jarring. It was as if she were seeing a completely different person.

“Princess,” Haechan’s voice cut through the laughter, pulling her from her thoughts. He leaned forward slightly, his bright eyes curious. “Do you have any siblings?”

The question hit her like a physical blow. Her utensils slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against her plate. The sound echoed in the sudden silence that fell over the table. The princess felt the color drain from her face, her hands trembling as she struggled to maintain her composure. The memories rushed in unbidden—her sister’s laughter, her brother’s mischievous grin, the emptiness that had followed their loss.

“Haechan,” Taeyong’s voice was sharp, a low growl that carried the weight of authority. He didn’t need to say more; the name alone was a reprimand. Haechan immediately shrank back, his cheerful demeanor faltering under his brother’s stern gaze.

“I did,” the princess said finally, her voice soft but steady. She stared down at her plate, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as if it could anchor her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to look up, meeting Haechan’s apologetic gaze. “They have passed.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of her words settling over the table like a shroud. Taeyong was the first to speak, his tone measured and diplomatic, though his eyes held a flicker of genuine sympathy. “We are sorry for your loss, Princess.”

Jeno, who had been unusually quiet, spoke next, his voice barely above a whisper. “I had a sister,” he admitted, his words surprising even himself. It was a part of his past he rarely acknowledged, a wound he kept carefully hidden. “She too passed.” His eyes met the princess’s, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between them—a shared understanding of grief, of loss, of the scars that war leaves behind.

The princess held his gaze for a heartbeat longer before turning back to the table, forcing a small, fragile smile. “Please,” she said, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of pleading, “let us discuss happier things.”

Taeyong nodded, his expression softening as he offered her a reassuring smile. But beneath his calm exterior, his thoughts churned. He knew about the princess’s siblings. He knew how they had died—during the war, likely as a result of his own campaigns. As the general of the Northcy army, he had overseen countless battles, each one leaving its mark on both sides. The irony wasn’t lost on him; here he sat, sharing a meal with the woman whose family he had helped tear apart, all in the name of an alliance that was supposed to bring peace.

The meal resumed, the conversation gradually returning to lighter topics, but the tension lingered, a silent reminder of the fragile threads holding this alliance together. The princess’s smile never quite reached her eyes, and Jeno’s laughter felt forced, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them both. For all the warmth and camaraderie at the table, the shadows of the past were never far away.

As the meal drew to a close, the brothers exchanged their final remarks, the warmth of their camaraderie filling the room. Taeyong stood abruptly when his phone buzzed, his expression tightening as he glanced at the screen. “Excuse me,” he said, stepping away to take the call. When he returned, his face was clouded with irritation. “I have to leave,” he announced, his tone clipped. “There’s an issue at the stables that needs my attention.”

“Let us come with you,” Haechan suggested eagerly, already on his feet. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “We can take a ride after you sort it out. It’s been ages since we’ve all ridden together.”

Mark nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. “The first snow is supposed to fall today,” he added. “It was our tradition to ride during the first snowfall.”

Jeno, who had been quietly observing, stood as well. “It would be nice, Taeyong,” he said softly, his voice carrying a rare note of vulnerability. The princess watched the exchange, struck by how much the brothers seemed to cherish these moments together. It was clear they didn’t get to spend much time as a family anymore.

Taeyong hesitated, his brow furrowed as he weighed the request. “I’m not sure…” he began, but Haechan cut him off, his voice tinged with playful whining.

“You never see us anymore,” Haechan said, pouting slightly. The princess noticed how Taeyong’s stern expression softened at his younger brother’s words.

Mark stepped closer, his head tilted in a gesture of quiet pleading. “It’s been a while since we’ve done something together, Taeyong,” he said, his tone gentle but insistent.

Taeyong sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing as he relented. “Fine,” he said, though his voice still carried a note of caution. “But no promises that this situation will be resolved quickly.”

The brothers’ faces lit up at his agreement, their smiles bright and genuine. The princess couldn’t help but feel a pang of warmth at the sight. It was a rare, heartwarming moment, one that reminded her of the family she had lost.

As the brothers began to gather their things, the princess stood, preparing to excuse herself. She dipped into a deep bow, her voice soft but formal. “It was a pleasure to dine with you all—”

“You’re not leaving now, are you?” Haechan interrupted, his tone incredulous as he turned to face her.

The princess felt a flush rise to her cheeks, caught off guard by his directness. “I… yes,” she stammered, unsure how to respond.

“You have to come with us,” Haechan insisted, his enthusiasm undimmed. “We’re going horseback riding. It’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know how to ride,” the princess admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Haechan waved off her concern with a grin. “It’s fine—you can ride with me,” he said, reaching out to take her arm. Before she could protest, he had linked her arm with his, pulling her gently but firmly toward the stables.

The princess stumbled slightly, caught off guard by his forwardness. She glanced at Haechan, searching for some explanation for his behavior, but he simply looked happy—genuinely, uncomplicatedly happy. It was a feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time, and it left her momentarily speechless.

Jeno, however, was far from pleased. He watched the interaction with a growing sense of unease, his jaw tightening as Haechan led the princess away. He didn’t like the idea of her being dragged into this—into his life, his family’s traditions. It felt like an intrusion, a boundary being crossed too soon. And he especially didn’t like how Haechan had handled it, pulling her along without a thought for her comfort or consent. It was disrespectful, and it grated on him more than he cared to admit.

As the group made their way to the stables, Jeno lingered behind, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and resentment. He didn’t like any of it—not Haechan’s impulsiveness, not the princess’s presence, and certainly not the way this alliance was forcing him to open parts of his life he’d rather keep closed. But for now, he had no choice but to follow, his steps heavy with reluctance as he trailed behind the others.

Taeyong could see the frustration etched across Jeno’s face as they walked to the stables. It wasn’t hard to miss—the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders were stiff, the storm brewing in his eyes. Taeyong understood why Jeno felt this way. This wasn’t the life Jeno had envisioned for himself. He was angry—angry at the council for forcing this title on him, angry at his parents for forging this alliance, and, deep down, angry at himself for being born into this role. Taeyong wished he could ease his brother’s anger, but he knew Jeno would have to come to terms with his circumstances in his own time. Acceptance wasn’t something Taeyong could force on him, no matter how much he wanted to.

When they arrived at the stables, a man dressed in the crisp uniform of a palace guard approached Taeyong and pulled him aside. The princess watched, along with the other princes, as Taeyong listened intently to what the guard had to say. She didn’t mean to stare so openly, but her curiosity got the better of her. Prince Haechan noticed her focused gaze and leaned closer to her, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Wondering who that is, Princess?” Haechan asked, his voice low but playful.

Before he could continue, Jeno cut in sharply, his tone firm. “Haechan.”

Haechan rolled his eyes, unfazed by his brother’s reprimand. “She’s going to find out eventually, Jeno. She’s your fiancée, after all.” He turned back to the princess, ignoring Jeno’s glare. “That’s Johnny,” he explained. “He’s the head palace guard. He oversees all the guards stationed here at the palace.”

The princess listened carefully, grateful for the information. It was rare for someone to offer her insights so freely, and she clung to every word. Still, she felt like she was being handed puzzle pieces without seeing the full picture. “I still don’t understand,” she admitted, her brow furrowing slightly. 

Haechan smirked, a hint of pride in his expression. “Taeyong is the General of the Army. He’s in charge of every guard, soldier, and officer in Northcy. They all report to him.” He paused, letting the information sink in. Slowly, the princess began to connect the dots, though many questions still lingered.

Jeno, however, wasn’t pleased. “Haechan,” he said again, his voice sharper this time. He knew the princess would eventually learn all of this—she was going to be part of the family, after all. But he wasn’t ready to share so much about Northcy, about their family, or about himself. Trust didn’t come easily to him, especially not with someone who still felt like a stranger.

Meanwhile, Taeyong finished his conversation with Johnny and glanced back at his brothers and the princess, who were waiting patiently. Johnny had informed him that some of the palace guards were unhappy about sharing their dormitory with the princess’s guards. Taeyong sighed, his tone firm but calm. “They’ll have to deal with it for now. There’s nowhere else to house them at the moment.”

“I’ll do my best to make them see reason, sir,” Johnny replied, though he knew any complaints would likely fall on deaf ears.

“Thank you,” Taeyong said, dismissing Johnny with a nod. He turned back to the group and gestured to the stable hands to prepare the horses. The princes’ faces lit up at the prospect of riding together, their excitement palpable.

“Princess,” Taeyong called, his voice cutting through the chatter. She looked up at him, her expression attentive. “Tell your guards that we’ll be riding up the trail about half a mile north,” he said, pointing toward a clearing in the distance. “The ride will take about an hour and a half. They can grab lunch while they wait for you.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness,” the princess replied, bowing slightly. A grateful smile touched her lips as she went to relay the message to Chan and Hyunjin.  Chan didn’t like leaving the princess alone with strangers.  However the princess argued that it was important to build relations with each of the princes and this was a good opportunity.  Chan’s eyes flickered with something unspoken, something the princess was all too aware of.  “I’ll be okay, I promise,” the princess said softly, her words meant to ease Chan’s mind.  

“I’ll kill anyone who hurts you,” Chan said, the sentiment tugging at the princess’s lips to form a smile.  

“I know.” 

“We’ll see you after the ride, your highness,” Hyunjin said, as he and Chan both bowed to the princess before turning to leave.  

The stable hands were busy preparing the horses for the princes. Taeyong’s horse was a majestic white stallion, strong and sturdy, with an air of calm elegance. The moment the horse saw Taeyong, its ears perked up, and it let out a soft whinny of recognition. It was clear the two shared a deep bond. Mark’s horse was a sleek black mare, its coat as dark as midnight, with a proud, regal bearing. Haechan’s horse was a chestnut brown, its coat gleaming in the pale winter sunlight, reflecting its rider’s lively energy.

Jeno’s horse, also white, stood out in a different way. While Taeyong’s horse exuded serenity, Jeno’s had a colder, more distant demeanor—much like Jeno himself. It was a beautiful animal, but there was something guarded about it, as if it mirrored its rider’s emotions.

 The brothers began mounting their horses with practiced ease, their movements smooth and confident. Haechan turned to the princess, a playful grin on his face as he reached out to help her onto his horse. “Ready?” he asked, his tone light and teasing.

But before the princess could respond, Jeno stepped between them, his presence sudden and commanding. “The princess will ride with me,” he said, his voice firm but calm. He didn’t look at Haechan as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the princess instead. There was no room for argument in his tone, though the tension in his shoulders suggested he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the decision himself.

Haechan blinked, surprised, “why? She doesn’t want to ride with you.” 

“People will talk,” Jeno huffed, “if they see her riding with someone who isn’t her fiance, they will talk and we don’t need anyone talking right now.” 

Haechan smirked, stepping back, “very well brother. Apologies princess.” 

The princess hesitated, her eyes flickering between Jeno and Haechan. She wasn’t sure what to make of Jeno’s sudden intervention, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. There was something in his expression—something she couldn’t quite place—that made her nod silently in agreement.

Jeno extended a hand to her, his movements deliberate but not unkind. “Come on,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ll help you up.”

The princess took his hand, her fingers brushing against his as she stepped closer to the horse. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the cold air and the distant chatter of the others fading into the background. It was a small moment, but it carried a weight neither of them could fully understand—or perhaps didn’t want to.

“Hold onto this part of the saddle,” Jeno instructed, his voice steady as he guided the princess’s hands to the leather grip. He helped her onto the horse, his hands firm but careful as he gently pushed her into place. The princess settled on the horse, her breath catching as she realized just how high off the ground she was. The horse shifted beneath her, its powerful muscles rippling, and she instinctively tightened her grip on the saddle.

Jeno swung up behind her, his chest pressing lightly against her back as he adjusted his position. The closeness felt strange to the princess—intimate in a way that made her pulse quicken. She wasn’t used to being this near to him, and the warmth of his body against hers was both comforting and unnerving.

“Keep your hands here,” Jeno said, leaning over her shoulder to point to the reins. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone as he noticed her tense posture. “Don’t tug on this part,” he warned, giving the strap a gentle pull. The horse responded immediately, taking a step forward, and the princess let out a small gasp, her body jolting slightly.

Jeno chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. It was rare to see the princess so unsettled. She was always so composed, so regal, that her reaction was almost refreshing. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, his tone lighter now.

“Are we ready?” Taeyong’s voice cut through the crisp air, commanding attention. He sat tall on his white stallion, his posture every bit the general he was. Without waiting for an answer, he gestured toward the trail. “Let’s go.” His horse moved forward with a graceful stride, leading the way.

Jeno glanced down at the princess. “Ready?” he asked, his voice softer now. She nodded, her grip tightening on the saddle as the horse began to move. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves against the ground was soothing, but the princess still felt uneasy. Being this close to Jeno, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her back, was unfamiliar territory. It felt like they were playing roles in a performance, one without an audience. She couldn’t help but wonder: if they weren’t royals, if they weren’t bound by duty and expectation, could they have been friends? Could they have laughed together like companolns without the weight of an alliance hanging over them?  If they weren’t born to opposite sides of a war, would things between them be different?

“Race to the top?” Haechan’s voice broke through her thoughts, his tone brimming with excitement as they began to climb the trail.

Mark shook his head, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “We can’t. The princess is with us.”

Haechan grinned, undeterred. “You’re only saying that because you know you can’t beat me,” he teased, making exaggerated chicken noises. The absurdity of it caught the princess off guard, and a genuine laugh escaped her lips—a light, melodic sound that surprised even herself.

Jeno stiffened slightly behind her, caught off guard by the sound. He hadn’t heard her laugh before, and he hadn’t expected it to be so… enchanting. It was a small, fleeting moment, but it lingered in the air like the first notes of a song.  

“I would totally beat you to the top,” Mark shot back, his competitive side flaring up.

“We all know my horse is the fastest,” Jeno interjected, his voice carrying a lightness the princess hadn’t heard from him before. It was a side of him she didn’t know existed—playful, almost carefree.

“Prove it,” Haechan challenged, and with that, he urged his horse forward, darting up the trail with a burst of speed.

“Cheater!” Mark shouted, spurring his own horse into a gallop as he chased after Haechan.

Jeno leaned closer to the princess, his breath warm against her ear. “You better hang on,” he warned, a hint of mischief in his voice. Before she could respond, he flicked the reins, and the horse surged forward. The sudden acceleration made the princess gasp, her heart racing as the wind whipped past her face. The world blurred around her, the trees and sky becoming a streak of colors as they sped up the trail.

Taeyong brought up the rear, shaking his head at his brothers’ antics, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. He urged his horse forward, joining the chase with a steady, controlled pace.

The princess clung to the saddle, her breath hitching as the horse’s powerful strides carried them faster and faster. The wind was cold against her cheeks, but it felt exhilarating, freeing in a way she had never experienced before. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t thinking about alliances or duties or expectations. She was simply living in the moment, feeling the rush of speed and the warmth of Jeno’s presence behind her.

Jeno’s laughter rang out, deep and unrestrained, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine. It was a laugh she hadn’t heard before, one that felt rare and precious. Without thinking, she laughed too, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her. It was wild and unrestrained, a reflection of the freedom she felt in that moment.

The trail stretched ahead, the brothers’ shouts and laughter echoing through the trees as they raced toward the top. For the first time, the princess felt a flicker of something she hadn’t known she was missing—joy, pure and unburdened. And as the horse carried them forward, she couldn’t help but hope that this feeling, this fleeting sense of freedom, might last just a little longer.

As they neared the top, clearing up ahead, Taeyong seemed to move faster towards them.  He confidently maneuvered his horse around them all.  Pulling ahead just before they reached the top.  It was clear then speed didn’t matter nearly as much as strategy.  As the princess and prince Jeno reached the top, the horse slowing down as they reached the clearing, she could feel the cold seep deeper into her.  She could feel herself begin to shiver.  

“This isn’t fair,” Haechan huffed, as he reached the top last.  The other brothers chuckled watching the baby pout about not winning the race.  

“That’s what happens you cheat,” Mark retorts back. 

“Shouldn’t have challenged us, if you weren’t confident in your abilities,” Jeno teases, adding salt to the wound of Haechan's hurt ego.  

“Look at this view,” Taeyong said, his voice carrying a rare note of awe as he dismounted his horse and walked toward the edge of the overlook. The other brothers followed, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. The vista before them was breathtaking—rolling hills, dense forests, and the distant glimmer of the city, all bathed in the pale winter light. It was a sight that could make anyone pause and marvel.

Prince Jeno dismounted his horse, his movements deliberate as he glanced at the ground. His eyes traveled upward, taking in the princess’s boots—elegant but impractical for the muddy terrain. “Stay on the horse,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “The ground is muddy from the melted snow. I don’t want you to get dirty.” His words were casual, almost dismissive, but they sparked a flicker of irritation in the princess. She wasn’t some fragile doll to be coddled, and his assumption grated on her.

Jeno led the horse closer to the edge, positioning it so the princess could take in the view. The landscape stretched out before her, vast and beautiful, but her mind was elsewhere. The prince’s unexpected kindness felt… off. It didn’t align with the cold, distant man she had come to know. Was this a genuine gesture, or was there something more behind it? Her thoughts raced, replaying every interaction from lunch to this moment, searching for hidden meanings. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down, not even for a second.

Jeno noticed the way the princess stiffened at his suggestion, her posture rigid and her expression guarded. He hoped this ride might help soften the tension between them, might show her that his resistance to the alliance wasn’t personal. If they had met under different circumstances—if they hadn’t been forced into this union—he wondered if things might have been different. But those were thoughts he kept to himself, buried beneath layers of duty and pride.

The winter air bit at the princess’s skin, sharp and unrelenting. She shivered involuntarily, her arms wrapping around herself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. Jeno’s gaze flickered to her, his brow furrowing slightly. “Are you cold, Princess?” he asked, his voice softer now.

Before she could respond, he was already shrugging off his riding jacket, the one he had worn since they left the stables. “It’s quite alright, Your Highness,” the princess said quickly, her tone polite but firm. She didn’t want his jacket, didn’t want this sudden closeness. The ride had already felt too personal, and this—this was crossing a line.

“You’re shivering,” Jeno said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He swung back onto the horse behind her, his movements smooth and practiced. Before she could protest further, he draped the jacket over her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s not thick, but it’ll help,” he added, his tone matter-of-fact.

The princess hesitated, then reluctantly pulled the jacket tighter around her. It did help, blocking the worst of the wind and trapping what little warmth her body could muster. She hated to admit it, but she was grateful—not just for the jacket, but for the way his body heat seeped into her back as he settled behind her. It was a small comfort, one she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Let’s head back down,” Jeno called to his brothers, his voice cutting through the crisp air. The others nodded, mounting their horses and preparing for the descent. Jeno’s arms brushed against hers as he reached for the reins, his proximity sending a jolt of awareness through her. She told herself it was just the cold making her skin prickle, but deep down, she knew better.

As they began the slow ride back, the brothers fell into easy conversation, their voices carrying over the crunch of hooves against the frozen ground. They reminisced about past rides, their laughter ringing out in the quiet winter air. The princess listened intently, her mind working to piece together the fragments of their shared history. Every word, every anecdote, was another clue to understanding this family she was being forced to join.

But even as she focused on their stories, she couldn’t ignore the warmth of Jeno’s body behind her, the way his presence seemed to fill the space between them. It was a strange, unsettling feeling—one she wasn’t ready to confront. For now, she clung to the reins, her walls firmly in place, even as the lines between duty and something more began to blur.

As they approached the stables, the princess spotted her guards waiting in the distance. Her eyes immediately locked onto Chan, and her heart sank. The tension in his jaw was unmistakable, his posture rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Even from afar, she could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She had never seen him look like this—so raw, so hurt.

When they reached the stables, the stable hands hurried out to take the horses. Prince Jeno dismounted first, then turned to help the princess down. As her feet touched the ground, she shrugged off his jacket, the fabric slipping from her shoulders like a barrier being removed.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” she said, her tone poised and regal, but distant—so distant it felt like a wall had been erected between them. She turned to face Jeno and his brothers, offering a graceful bow. “Thank you for the ride. I must be on my way.”

No one argued as she turned and walked away, her guards falling into step behind her. Jeno watched her go, his thoughts a tangled mess. He had expected to feel relief as the distance between them grew, but instead, he felt… unsettled. Confused. The sight of her walking away left an uneasy feeling, one he couldn’t quite explain.

The princess kept her head high as she walked, her steps measured and deliberate. But once they were far enough from the stables, she reached for Chan’s hand, her fingers brushing against his in a silent plea for comfort. To her dismay, he pulled his hand away, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying the storm within him.

“Chan, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t punish me for that.”

Chan remained silent, his jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead. Hyunjin walked a few paces behind them, his presence a quiet reminder of the boundaries they couldn’t cross. The tension between Chan and the princess was palpable, a heavy weight that neither of them could bear to address—until now.

When they reached her chambers, Fei and Mei were already inside, preparing her evening attire for dinner. The princess, acting on impulse, grabbed Chan’s wrist and pulled him into the room. She ignored the startled looks from her maids, dragging him past them and into her bedroom. The door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing them off from the world.

“Chan,” she pleaded, her voice trembling as she turned to face him. “Please, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t think playing happy couple with the prince would hurt me?” Chan shot back, his words sharp and biting. He knew they were unfair, but the pain in his chest was too much to hold back. 

“This is what’s expected of me,” she said, her voice rising in desperation. “I have no choice!”

“No,” Chan growled, his voice low and strained. “You’re expected to marry him, not fall in love with him.”

The words hit her like a slap. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she stared at him in disbelief. “Why would you say that?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “How could you think that? I’m in love with you.”

Chan’s resolve wavered, his chest tightening as he looked at her. He wanted to turn away, to leave before he said something he couldn’t take back. But she reached for him, her hands gripping his arms as if she could anchor him to her.

“Don’t do this,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

“My princess,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “you know we can’t.”

“No, Chan, don’t do this to me,” she cried, her hands moving to cup his face. Her tears streaked down her cheeks, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Don’t punish me for loving you.”

“Do you think me walking away is meant to punish you?” he asked, his voice raw with emotion. “Do you think this is easy for me?”

Before he could say more, she pulled him closer, her lips crashing into his in a kiss that was equal parts desperation and longing. It was a kiss that carried years of unspoken feelings, of stolen glances and hidden touches, of love that could never be. When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet room.

“Stay with me tonight,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll tell them the ride made me sick. Stay with me, here in this room, just for tonight. Let us pretend, just for one night.”

Chan closed his eyes, his heart breaking as he gently pulled her hands away from his face. “You know we can’t, my princess,” he said softly, his voice thick with regret. “We can’t.”

“Chan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she watched him step back, putting distance between them.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n),” he said, his voice breaking as he turned and walked toward the door. He paused for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob, but he didn’t look back. “I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the room, her heart shattered into pieces.

Back at the stables, the princes were ensuring their horses were properly cared for when a palace servant approached. The servant bowed deeply before addressing them. “Crown Prince Lee Jeno, General Lee, Prince Lee Mark, and Prince Lee Donghyuck, your presence is requested by the king.”

Mark’s face immediately showed panic. “Father wants to see all of us? This can’t be good.”

Haechan, ever the optimist, waved off his brother’s concern. “Oh, come on! We haven’t done anything wrong.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Really? You’ve caused no trouble in the past day or two?” Haechan was known for his pranks, and Jeno wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

Haechan grinned and gave an exaggerated bow. “I promise, my future king, I have caused no trouble within the palace walls.” He knew addressing Jeno like that would annoy him, and he wasn’t wrong. Jeno immediately chased after him, the two brothers tussling like children.

Taeyong sighed, stepping in to break it up. “Hey, quit fighting. Do you want to keep the actual king waiting?”

“No,” both Jeno and Haechan muttered, their heads hanging low as they reluctantly stopped. Together, the four brothers made their way to see the king.

When they arrived, they found their father and Jeno’s mother waiting in the king’s private drawing room. The room was simple and understated, more like a cozy lounge than a formal royal space. Behind a shelf of books was a hidden door that led to the king’s private office—a place no one but the king and his personal butler, Jung, were allowed to enter. Not even the queen or the princes had ever stepped foot inside.

“Your Majesties,” Taeyong greeted, bowing respectfully. The other brothers followed suit, staying silent as they waited for their father to speak.

“You requested our presence, Father?” Taeyong asked, standing tall and meeting the king’s gaze.

The king nodded, his expression serious. “Yes. I have an announcement to make. After Princess (Y/n) and Jeno’s marriage, I am considering stepping down as king.”

Jeno’s eyes widened in shock. “What, Father?!”

The king continued, his tone calm but firm. “Yes, I will step down from the throne after your marriage, Jeno, and you will be crowned king. But before that, I want to make Mark and Donghyuck full members of the council.”

Jeno was still reeling from the news. “Father, stepping down? No king in the history of our kingdom has ever done that. Is that even possible?”

The king’s expression didn’t waver. “If it’s not possible, I will make it possible.” He handed Jeno a stack of papers, which the other brothers peeked at curiously. “These are the accords of the alliance. The Kingdom of Modia will be transferred into our control as a territory of Northcy. However, this transfer will only happen once you ascend the throne.”

Jeno’s frustration was evident. “Father, you can’t be serious. You want me to take the throne early just to assume control of a kingdom that shouldn’t be ours?”

The king’s gaze hardened. “Jeno, this is reparations for the war. And let’s not forget—Modia will fall without this arrangement. This is as much for their sake as it is for ours.”

Jeno stood his ground, his voice firm. “Father, no. You can’t justify taking over another kingdom just because of the war.”

The king rose from his seat, his presence imposing as he placed both hands on Jeno’s shoulders. His grip tightened, a silent reminder of his authority. “My boy,” he said, his voice low and warning, “you’d do well to watch your tone with me.” He paused, then turned to Taeyong, changing the subject. “I’m sure you have much work to do, Taeyong?”

Taeyong nodded, stepping forward. “Yes, Father. The plans to withdraw soldiers from the front lines are underway. I leave in a few days to oversee it personally.” He gestured for Jeno to follow him, and the two left the drawing room together.  Mark and Haechan stayed to talk to the king further about their own assignment.  

Once they were out of earshot, Jeno turned to Taeyong, his face filled with worry. “Taeyong, I don’t want this. I don’t want to be king. I don’t want to get married.  This isn’t fair, nor is it right.”

Taeyong placed a reassuring hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “Jeno, you’ll make a fine king. Don’t worry so much and the arrangement will help Modia as well, if it didn’t they wouldn’t have agreed. And the princess is a beautiful girl. What’s the problem with marrying her?”

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The problem isn’t her. The problem is marriage itself. I don’t want it—not now, at least. I want to marry someone I know, someone I love, not someone Father and Mother forced upon me.”

Taeyong understood his brother’s frustration, but there was little he could do. Jeno’s duty as the only male heir of the true king and queen was non-negotiable. Before Taeyong could respond, a maid approached, calling him away for another matter. Left alone, Jeno stood in the hallway, his thoughts swirling with doubt and dread.

That evening, during the quiet hum of the evening meal, Prince Jeno found himself watching the princess. His gaze lingered on her as she ate, her movements graceful and deliberate. He wondered if she knew the full extent of the accords binding their union. Did she understand what this alliance truly meant—not just for them, but for their kingdoms? For a fleeting moment, he even wondered how she felt about it all. Did the thought of Modia falling under his control pain her? Did she resent him for it? The questions gnawed at him, but he kept them locked away, his expression unreadable.

The princess, meanwhile, was lost in her own thoughts. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions and questions—love and duty, politics and alliances, right and wrong, truth and lies. She was beginning to realize that this union would cost her far more than she had anticipated. It wasn’t just her freedom at stake; it was her identity, her people, her very sense of self. And if she wanted answers, she would have to fight for them.

When the meal ended and the princess returned to her chambers, her thoughts refused to quiet. As her maids helped her into her sleeping attire, she couldn’t shake the memory of something Jeno had mentioned during lunch. “Mei,” she called suddenly, stopping the maid mid-motion. “Fetch my robe. I want to go to the library.”

Fei frowned, her brow furrowing in concern. “Your Highness, it’s late. Surely this can wait until morning?”

“No,” the princess said firmly, her mind racing. “The prince mentioned something today—something I need to understand.”

“What was it, Your Highness?” Mei asked as she helped the princess into her robe.

“He mentioned a sister,” the princess said, her voice low. Both maids froze, their eyes widening in surprise. “And he said his older brother has a different mother. Who’s to say the others don’t as well?” Her expression was a mix of confusion and determination as she tried to piece together the fragments of information. “And the oldest brother, Taeyong—he’s the general. In my studies, I learned that the general holds two votes on the council. One as general, and one as prince.”  The last sentence she said softly as if it were more for herself than for her maids. 

The princess stopped abruptly in the middle of the dimly lit hallway, her thoughts clicking into place. “Your Highness?” Mei asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“Prince Taeyong,” the princess murmured, her eyes narrowing as the realization hit her. “He was stripped of his title as crown prince, so he became the general instead.”

Fei and Mei exchanged a glance, their concern growing. “Your Highness?” Fei prompted gently.

“I think,” the princess said slowly, turning to face her maids, “I think I’m beginning to understand Prince Jeno’s anger toward the council.” Without another word, she continued down the hall, her maids hurrying after her.

When they reached the library, the princess pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. The room was vast, its towering shelves filled with books and scrolls that held the secrets of Northcy’s history. She moved quickly, scanning the titles for anything that might shed light on the royal family’s past.

“I’ll prepare some tea,” Fei said, knowing this would be a long night. “And I’ll inform Chan and Hyunjin of your whereabouts. They won’t be pleased to find you out of your chambers so late.”

Mei nodded, a hint of amusement in her voice. “They’ll want to stand guard, no doubt.”

The princess raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll be fine. We’re still within the palace walls.”

Fei sighed softly, her own smile faint. “I’ll let them know.”

“Tell them not to come,” the princess added, her tone firm but kind. “They deserve a proper rest. Just inform them where I am so they’re not worried.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Fei said with a bow before slipping out of the library.

Hours passed as the princess pored over books and scrolls, her determination unwavering. The information she found was fragmented, never quite enough to answer all her questions. Mei and Fei, seated nearby, began to yawn as the night wore on. They exchanged tired glances, wondering how much longer their mistress would keep them up.

“Your Highness,” Fei said finally, breaking the silence. “It’s late. You should return to your chambers.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mei agreed. “It’s not proper for you to be out like this.”

The princess smiled faintly, her eyes still scanning the pages before her. “Go, both of you. Get some rest. Tomorrow is another day. I’ll return to my chambers shortly.”

“Your Highness…” Fei began to protest.

“Don’t worry,” the princess said, her tone gentle but firm. “I’ll be fine. Go—that’s an order.”

Reluctantly, the maids bowed and left the library, their footsteps fading into the silence.

More time passed, the princess growing more engrossed in her search. She was so absorbed that she didn’t hear the library doors open or notice the soft footsteps approaching.

“It’s late, Princess,” a voice said, cutting through the quiet.

The princess jumped, her heart racing as she turned to see Prince Jeno leaning against a bookshelf. He was dressed casually in a white compression shirt that clung to his torso, accentuating his athletic build, and a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was slightly disheveled, as if he, too, had been unable to sleep.

“Your Highness,” the princess said, standing quickly and bowing.

Jeno waved off the formality. “What are you doing here so late?” he asked, his gaze drifting to the books and scrolls scattered across the table. His expression softened as he realized what she had been studying—his family’s history, their lineage, their secrets.

“You won’t find her in these,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something the princess couldn’t quite place.

“I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness,” she replied, though her heart was pounding.

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My sister,” he said, his voice low. “She died young. She was born sick and passed away before she turned ten.” He looked down, his shoulders tense. “The council thought her existence was a weakness. They erased her from the records—no birth, no death. As if she never existed.”

The princess’s heart ached for him. The idea that the council could so callously erase a child’s life, all for the sake of maintaining an image of strength, was horrifying. “Your Highness…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, the walls between them seemed to crumble. He took a seat at the table, his posture relaxed but his expression serious. “Ask me anything, Princess,” he said. “for Tonight, I’ll give you the truth.”

The princess was stunned. She searched his face for any hint of deception, but all she saw was sincerity. For tonight, at least, it seemed Jeno had decided to forget she was the enemy. And so, with a deep breath, she began to ask her questions.

[zeroseuniverse]

To Be Loved

Word Count: 695 Summary:The way, despite all your promises to yourself, you had started to fall. And maybe he saw it, because he reached for your hand, slow and deliberate, giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. Pairing: Jeno X reader

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The night your first love walked away, they took more than just your heart. They took the way you used to believe in love—eagerly, recklessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The kind of love that made your heart race and your stomach flutter. The kind you thought would last forever.

But forever had an expiration date. And after the months of silent goodbyes and slowly unraveling affection, you had finally reached your breaking point.

You swore off relationships that day.

You told yourself love was nothing more than an illusion, a trick of the mind, a temporary warmth that always faded. It was easier to be alone. Safer.

Then Jeno moved in.

It wasn’t meant to be anything significant. Just a roommate—someone to help with rent, to occupy the spare room, to exist within the same walls without crossing the boundaries you had carefully built.

But Jeno had a way of making himself known without demanding space. He was quiet but present, thoughtful in ways that made your chest ache with something you weren’t ready to name. He noticed things. Like how you never remembered to buy coffee beans, so he always kept an extra stash. How you fell asleep on the couch more often than in your own bed, so he made sure there was always a blanket within reach. How you turned the volume down whenever love songs played, as if even the melody of romance stung.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing. He was just kind. That’s who Jeno was—steady, dependable, the kind of person who didn’t hesitate to help someone in need. It wasn’t special.

But then, there were the little things.

The way his eyes softened when he looked at you, like he saw something worth waiting for. The way he always lingered in the kitchen when you got home late, offering you food even when he pretended he was just snacking himself. The way his voice dropped when he asked if you were okay, like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from you anyway.

And then, there were the touches. Accidental at first. A brush of fingers when you both reached for the remote. A lingering moment when he passed you a plate. The way he would lean just a little closer when he laughed, as if drawn to you without realizing it.

You ignored it. You told yourself it was nothing.

Until one night, when the weight of the world sat too heavy on your shoulders.

You had come home exhausted, drained from a long day, barely finding the energy to kick off your shoes before sinking into the couch. Jeno had been in the kitchen, humming softly to himself as he cleaned up, but at the sound of your sigh, he looked over.

“Tough day?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

You nodded, too tired to answer properly.

Without a word, he grabbed a second cup and poured you some tea. Then he walked over, setting it in front of you before sitting down beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to be alone, either.”

Something in your chest cracked open.

You turned to look at him, really look at him, and suddenly, everything you had been pretending not to feel came crashing down at once. The way he had always been there. The way he had become the safest thing in your life.

The way, despite all your promises to yourself, you had started to fall.

And maybe he saw it, because he reached for your hand, slow and deliberate, giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, your fingers curled around his, holding on as if you had been waiting for this moment longer than you realized.

Maybe love hadn’t abandoned you after all.

Maybe it was standing right in front of you, waiting for you to open the door.

And for the first time in a long time, you thought—maybe you would.

Maybe you already had.

[yara0546]

Racing Hearts | Lee Jeno

Anonymous asked : Hello! I'd love a scenario featuring  only Jeno. He's dating the sister of an F1 driver – either Max Verstappen or Charles Leclerc would work. Could it focus on him spending time with her brother, perhaps including them going to watch an F1 race? He's a known F1 fan, so that would fit perfectly. Don't worry if you don't know much about F1 or the drivers, also it's ok if you don't wanna do it… thanks <3<3<3

I'm sorry if you don't like it 🥲...

୨୧ Pairing : lee jeno x reader (Charles Leclerc)

୨୧ Genre : Romance, Comedy, Sports (F1), Fluff

୨୧ Word Count : 2,000 - 2,500 words.

୨୧ Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

Jeno had been a Formula 1 fan for as long as he could remember, but he never imagined that one day, he'd be sitting in the Ferrari garage, watching the Monaco Grand Prix with his girlfriend’s brother Charles Leclerc.

Dating you was a dream in itself, but the added bonus of getting to spend time around F1 made his heart race almost as fast as the cars on track. However, today wasn't just about watching a race. It was about proving to Charles that he was worthy of dating his little sister.

“You sure you’re ready for this?” you teased, adjusting Jeno’s Ferrari cap.

“I’ve faced screaming fans, strict choreographers, and weekly workouts. I think I can handle one protective big brother,” he said confidently.

You laughed, but before you could respond, Charles strolled up, already dressed in his race suit.

"Jeno," Charles greeted, offering a firm handshake. "Ready to see what a real sport looks like?"

Jeno chuckled, used to the friendly banter. "Of course. But don't get too jealous if I decide to switch careers."

Charles smirked. "Let’s see if you survive the pit wall first."

You shook your head at them, sensing the silent challenge between them. "Play nice, boys."

Jeno was practically buzzing as he followed Charles through the paddock. The energy was electric—mechanics rushing around, engines roaring, the smell of burning rubber in the air.

“You okay?” Charles asked, glancing at Jeno, who looked like a kid in a candy store.

Jeno nodded quickly. "I think I just fell in love all over again. But don’t worry, you’re not my type."

Charles laughed, finally relaxing a little. “Good. Otherwise, I’d have to fight you.”

They reached the Ferrari garage, where team engineers were making last-minute adjustments to Charles’s car.

“You can stay here during the race,” Charles said. “Best seat in the house.”

Jeno grinned. “I feel like I just unlocked VIP mode in real life.”

A few minutes later, Charles was called to the grid. Before leaving, he turned to Jeno. “Take care of my sister while I’m out there.”

Jeno didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

Jeno sat on the edge of his seat, his hands clenched as the lights went out.

"Come on, Charles," he muttered under his breath.

Watching an F1 race on TV was one thing, but seeing it live, feeling the vibrations, hearing the engines scream past—this was next level.

Halfway through the race, Charles was in a tight battle for first. Jeno couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. Even when a Ferrari engineer handed him a headset so he could hear the team radio, he barely registered it.

“Box, box,” Charles’s engineer said through the radio.

Jeno turned to you. “Why does that sound serious?”

You bit your lip. “It means he’s pitting. But the stop has to be perfect.”

Seconds later, Charles’s car screeched into the pit lane. Jeno held his breath. Within 2.4 seconds, the tires were changed, and Charles was back on track.

Jeno exhaled. “That was insane.”

You squeezed his hand. “Welcome to my world.”

Charles finished second on the podium, and while he didn’t win, he was in good spirits. Back in the paddock, he found Jeno and patted him on the back.

“You didn’t jinx me. Maybe you’re good luck.”

Jeno grinned. “I’ll take the credit.”

Charles hesitated before adding, “You know, I was skeptical at first. But I can see how much you care about my sister.”

Jeno’s smile softened. “She means everything to me.”

Charles studied him for a moment before nodding. “Then you’re okay in my book.”

You wrapped your arms around Jeno from behind, grinning. “Told you they’d get along.”

Jeno turned to kiss your forehead. “Best day ever.”

Charles smirked. “Don’t get too comfortable. Next time, we’re putting you in a simulator.”

Jeno gulped. “Uh-oh.”

You laughed. “Guess we’ll see if my boyfriend can really handle F1.”

Jeno still couldn’t believe he had spent the day inside the Ferrari garage, experiencing the race from the best seat in the house. But now, the real test was about to begin—spending the evening with Charles outside of F1, where the driver could shift his focus entirely on him.

You had planned a small celebration for Charles’s podium finish, inviting a few friends and team members to a private villa overlooking the Monaco coastline. The golden hues of sunset painted the sky as music played softly in the background.

Jeno adjusted his shirt nervously, watching Charles pour himself a drink at the bar. You nudged him with a teasing smile.

"Why do you look like you're about to meet my dad for the first time?"

Jeno sighed. "Because your brother is basically F1 royalty, and I just know he's going to grill me about something."

You laughed. "Relax. He wouldn’t have let you sit with the team if he didn’t already like you a little."

Jeno still wasn’t convinced, but before he could respond, Charles called out to him.

"Jeno, come here!"

He shot you a look that clearly said help me, but you just gave him a playful push.

Charles leaned against the counter, a knowing smirk on his face. He handed Jeno a glass—non-alcoholic, since he knew Jeno wasn’t much of a drinker during promotions and performances.

"So," Charles started, "you survived your first F1 weekend in the garage."

"Barely," Jeno chuckled, taking a sip. "I think my heart stopped a few times when you were overtaking."

Charles grinned. "That’s how it feels to watch someone you care about in their element, right?"

Jeno nodded. "Yeah. I get that feeling when I see her in the audience at my concerts."

Charles’s smirk faltered slightly, and Jeno could tell he was about to get serious.

"Look, I’ll be honest," Charles said, setting his glass down. "When my sister told me she was dating an idol, I wasn’t sure what to think. Your schedule is crazy, your life is always in the spotlight… and she deserves someone who will be there for her."

Jeno swallowed. "I know. And I won’t lie, it’s not always easy. But I love her, Charles. And no matter where I am in the world, she’s always my priority."

Charles studied him for a moment before nodding. "I can see that. She’s happier with you."

Jeno exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

"But," Charles continued, "if you ever hurt her accidentally, intentionally, emotionally, or otherwise I will personally make sure you feel what it’s like to be at the back of the grid."

Jeno laughed, but the warning in Charles’s eyes was real. "Got it. No DNF for me in this relationship."

Charles cracked a smile. "Good answer."

You walked over, slipping your hand into Jeno’s. "So, how’s it going? Are we planning a family race or something?"

Jeno smiled, squeezing your hand. "Not yet, but I think I just passed his test."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Barely."

You shook your head. "You’re both impossible."

Jeno turned to Charles. "You know, I meant it when I said I might want to try the simulator one day."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "You think you can handle it?"

Jeno grinned. "If I can handle being on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans, I think I can handle a race car simulation."

Charles smirked. "Alright then. Tomorrow morning, 10 AM. My place. Let’s see if you’re more than just a fanboy."

Jeno blinked. "Wait, I was kind of joking... "

You laughed. "Too late, babe. You’re in now."

Charles clapped Jeno on the back. "Welcome to the fast lane, Jeno."

Jeno groaned, but he couldn’t help smiling.

Maybe this whole ‘brother in law bonding’ thing wasn’t so bad after all.

[106alibi]

good graces ; lee jeno

pairing: boxer!jeno x magazine-editor!reader

synopsis: y/n knows she's petty. so when she found out her (secret) celebrity boyfriend of a year had been cheating on her, through a news article to make things worse, she decided to cook up an action plan to get back at him, and what better way to take revenge than to get together with his all-time favourite athlete?

or, in which y/n involves an unsuspecting lee jeno into her little revenge scheme on her now ex-boyfriend.

ib: good graces, sabrina carpenter

featuring: haewon of nmixx, kazuha of lesserafim, ningning of aespa, 00z of nct dream, (side chars.) natty of kiss of life, jake of enhypen

genre: humour, fluff, angst (maybe)

disclaimers: fem pronouns for y/n, will give disclaimers for individual chapters if I see fit!, mentions of cheating, profanities, kms/kys jokes, inappropriate themes and jokes

notes: need to preface and say I love jake i love jake i love jake i love natty i love natty i love natty

playlist: good graces (sabrina carpenter) | taste (sabrina carpenter) | thank u, next (ariana grande) | mantra (jennie) | dopamine (giselle) | get him back (olivia rodrigo)

status: ongoing (061124)

updates: every wednesday

taglist: open~ drop a reply or ask to be added!

a/n: letting this marinate before i start it from mid to end november! i have high hopes for this one and i hope you give jeno lots of love because there is a serious jeno smau drought on this app 💔💔 if you want me to tag you when the profiles/prologue drops just send a reply or an ask too! love you all 💜💜

profiles 24/7 on the bowl | protected by jeno squad

chapters

chapter 00. prologue

chapter 01. LIKE P IN THE V??

chapter 02. umm uhh O.K!

chapter 03. clout chaser

chapter 04. rookie mistake

chapter 05. I think she's flirting (written)

chapter 06. a girl can't smile in 2024 without flirting?

chapter 07. Awkward!

chapter 08. soft launch

chapter 09. bad luck (written)

chapter 10. atrociously negative rizz

chapter 11. nonchalant kween

chapter 12. taemin sunbaenim

chapter 13. sweet talk

chapter 14. cucumber shreds

chapter 15. pretty

chapter 16. just a friend

chapter 17. use me

[viasdreams]

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

drunk texts from jeno !!

a/n: jeno, babe, i NEED you to take more photos…i rip my hair out every time i make a theme for you 😞

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

[jenomi]

when you first started dating jeno, he would be really shy on facetimes/video calls with you. keeping the phone camera at an appropriate distance from his face and keeping things very demure.

but after months of dating and many many calls, jeno has gotten very comfortable. he would bring his face close to the camera and smile or do silly faces into the camera. it always makes you laugh and you would tease him for being annoying. but when he's abroad and he would bring the camera close to his face, it made you a little sad because it made you miss him more than ever.

when he's up close to the camera, you can see all the features of his face that you love the most. the mole next to his eye, the mole on his nose, the light in his eyes, his smile lines, his nose scrunches, his neck... the feeling of missing him so deeply would be so strong, that it would bring you to the verge of tears. you even cried on a call with him once, sobbing in between your words, "i just miss you."

a similar feeling was happening now.

"babe, back up from the camera, i can't do this right now" you say teasingly (but also seriously cuz you could cry right now).

"why~" jeno says bringing the camera even closer to his face.

you fall silent and decide to just appreciate his face up close like this. jeno smiles and chuckles lightly at your lack of an answer.

"i wish i could time travel so i can see you right now instead of in a week," you mumble and pout.

"maybe you should close your eyes for a second and pretend i'm there."

"no," you deadpan.

"come on, just for 30 seconds." jeno nags.

you roll your eyes and go along with jeno's antics. but suddenly, you hear a knock on your door which makes you jump.

"omg that scared me," you whisper, "someone's at my door."

"this late? keep me on the line," jeno says with concern.

you trod over to your door and look through the peephole on your door. your gasp is audible from your own phone as you quickly open the door to see your boyfriend standing on the other side of your door.

your jaw drops before you throw yourself at your boyfriend.

"wow my girlfriend can time travel" jeno smiles as you kiss all over the face you've been loving only thru a screen for weeks.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

a/n: i saw a compilation of up-close jeno that inspired this but i lost the video </3

[handlemehyuck]

take what you need from me . lee jeno

・❥・ cockwarming (reader falls asleep during) + light fingering 18+ mdni fluff, stress relief, jeno x female reader 1.2k

thinking about cockwarming with boyfriend jeno, and its presence in your nighttime routine—the hints he receives in texts throughout the day, and that’s how this all started: your stress.

one evening, the energy that joined your arrival back home weighed down your shoulders, clouded your gaze, and kept your lips in a tight line when you approached your boyfriend after kicking off your shoes. so he took your hand, led you to your bedroom, and started undressing. every article of clothing shed enhanced the light in your eyes, straightening your posture with intrigue. when he was naked and perched on the edge of your bed, his fingertips flicked the buttons of your blouse, “may i?” the permission was easy—immediate, and he began undressing you slowly, taking his time, each movement made with care; there was no need to rush. once you were naked too, he leaned forward to kiss the stripe of skin beneath your breasts, squeezing your waist as the gentle ministration started the heavy task of clearing your head.

“i want to try something.” you watched with curiosity and awe as jeno pushed himself back until he was leaning against the headboard, muscles flexing, slivers of sunshine brushing his skin in a perfect glow. your lips parted at the sight, instinctually moving forward and taking his outstretched hand. you knew what this was. you had mentioned it before, when you were on his lap in the living room. it was a sunday night, serenity in the air and you half-dressed after a shower. he didn’t bat an eye, said you should try it while tracing your delicate lines of ink, wondered aloud if you already had. only a couple of times. with the wrong person, but a seed of something was still planted: closeness—a complete union.

your knees sink into the mattress, distance closing as you approach his waist, cock hard against his taut stomach, but his eyes are gentle and soft. jeno smiles at you, something reassuring as your legs widen to accommodate the width of his thighs. a guiding hand placed on your hips as you sink down.

the stretch is familiar. his hands on your thighs are warm. your locked gazes send a chill down your spine. for a moment, all you do is watch each other, feeling his length exactly where you want it, loving the warm buzz of need but knowing you won’t give in. you tilt your head, eyes closing as the waves of sweet euphoria lap at the edges of your mind, begging for a total flood. jeno draws you closer. your chests collide. your head dips, lips meeting his skin, grazing his neck, and sucking your favorite spot behind his ear—the place that always pulls a delicious sound from his lips. his strong arms hold you in a soft possession, fingertips kneading over your shoulders and down your back, searching for the spot that wakes you up in the middle of the night.

the feeling of your body going slack in his arms is electrifying because jeno knows what it means—how significant it is to be trusted completely, reminded of a moment so early on it feels like a lifetime ago when he told you: take what you need from me. he remembers the surprise that shifted your features. it widened your eyes, parted your lips, and warmed your cheeks. in that moment, his words meant a million things. neither one of you could know exactly where they’d begin and where they’d end, if anywhere at all. in the moments you feel like you’re taking too much, all jeno experiences is satisfaction and safety in your heart as the man you decided was worth letting in, letting yourself be known by, letting yourself connect with, and fall and tumble into something so intertwined you don’t doubt it’s cosmic.

jeno knows you’ve fallen asleep and readjusts himself ever so slightly, propping up another pillow behind him before closing his own eyes to focus on the rise and fall of your chest. the beat he feels against his own is recognized by his heart, and his breath matches yours.

you wake up to the sound of your name mumbled against your skin, an apologetic tone. “baby, i’m so sorry. i’ve got to piss.”

you hum, amused and start to lift yourself, but jeno stops you, catching you in a blissful kiss. his thumb teases the side of your breast, hardening your nipples. no fair. when he pulls away, you kiss his nose and finally disconnect with a sigh. one that melts into his own.

he’s still taking his time, and you lay propped up on your side to admire all of his solid lines, finding the soft and round places with ease. “are you sure you have to pee?”

“my leg’s asleep.” his smile is lazy, eyes shrinking to crescents. a light laughter follows, spilling a similar glow to the sun’s throughout your bedroom, its light gone until morning.

“should i stab it with a pen?” his expression sends you into giggles, and you settle for gentle squeezes along his quad muscle. “not my jen, i could never.” you fall onto your stomach and pepper kisses just above his knee. “better?” jeno hums, encouraging you to keep going.

you kiss his body until jeno stops you, groaning about the damn bathroom again, knowing his hard on will create an unfortunate struggle. “don’t go anywhere.” like you ever would.

you coo loudly, embarrassing him as he waddles through your closet and into the attached bath. “shut up!”

you turn to lay flat on your back, drawing a fingertip up your abdomen and through the valley between your breasts, completely immersed in euphoria. “don’t you dare come back in here without washing your hands.”

“who do you think i am?” the faucet turns on for a full 30 seconds - yes, you count them - before your boyfriend is back and standing over your body. he admires you: the curves he’d recognize with his eyes closed, your blissful expression, the swell of your chest, faint bruises from the weekend decorating your hip. “should we make love, baby?”

“please,” his thumb traces your lips, and you watch his face with wide eyes, eager not to miss a thing.

“you always ask so nicely, doll.”

“jen,” you moan as he pops his thumb into your mouth. your tongue circles it on instinct, satisfied, he draws it out. “please don’t make me wait.”

“i wasn’t going to,” he kisses your nose and then your forehead. sinking into the mattress, his knees entrap you this time. his thumb is coated in your saliva, not that he needs the help—your folds are already soaked. “mmm, always ready for me too.”

“you make it easy, jen.” you squirm beneath him, close to steering his thumb exactly where you need it.

he’s being playful, knowing there’s hours ahead of this, and you’ll be orgasmic until the sun rises. it’s one of the reasons why he has a thing about middle of the night lovemaking. he can only see so much of you in the moonlight. the shadows are exciting, lines of light find you in the lewdest places. but, his favorite part is watching you clarify—his love all over you as the sun stretches and yawns before you’re completely coated in light. light that sticks to your swollen lips, messy hair, bruised skin, the place where your bodies intertwine, his hand around your neck, your eyelids fluttering when his name is the only thing left to say because you know it makes him cum.

[nmhdreamscape]

husband!jeno texts (request)

pairing | non-idol!jeno x fem!reader

content | fluff, suggestive (particularly the second last set)

request | "husband jeno texts? 🥹 pls and thank u 🙇🏻‍♀️"

note | consider this a warm-up for the jeno smut drabble i'm writting.

masterlist requests and asks are open!

[strrykais]

ᝰ.ᐟ off the record

11- five big booms

previous | masterlist | next

authors note: who is shocked? i bet you are about this post LOL

taglist: @dudekiss3r @bluedbliss @synthwxve @413ktz @mrsjohnnysuh @hyuckies18 @jeonghansshitester @multifandomania @yewshi @peterm4rker @flamingi @iamsimplyasimp @kaosuni @i-lovegood @jich3nle @melodiessvy @lampcults @smilefordongil @elsbunny @staydeardream @jeonginsbaee @t-102 @jae-n0 @sthwaaberry @snoopyjimin @flaminghotyourmom @keeryverse @haechsworld @kukkurookkoo @minkyuncutie @haechanmybaechan @oliviahyehyehye @remgeolli @xiuriii @saucyjaeyun @yizhrt @depressed-hoe2001 @jungaji @n0hyuck @charlieg1rl @thegracerammy @sunghoonsgfreal @jenohyun @jenoleeaesthetic @neozon3nha @dreamiestay @dinonuguaegi @morkleesgirl @catpjimin @lotties-readings

reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks or comment below!

[sungiejpg]

HOT TO GO!; jeno [smau] masterlist

synopsis: being aespa’s stylist is an easy and a lovely job, that’s what yn thought until she met Jeno by mistake. She now finds him scary

PAIRING jeno x f!reader

TAGS idol au, fluff, humour, maybe slow burn

WARNINGS some suggestive language

STATUS completed

track 00. the stylist

track 00. the idol

track 💕: INTRO

track 01. why we don’t go to sm

track 02. bad news

track 03. fixed

track 04. pretty people

track 05. another one

track 06. winter’s friend

track 07. new friends, cat memes and drama

track 08. confessions and besties

track 09. so chenle was right

track 10. the girls are fighting

track 11. hype for nothing

track 12. there is no chat and no jaemin

track 13. night in with the girls

track 14. forgiving and forgetting pt.1

track 15. we lost the complete plot

track 16. bitchless

track 17. apologies

track 18. maybe I have feelings

track 19. I got too silly

track 20. awkward

track 21. hello i'm crazy

track 22. dti magic

track 23. if I eated soap

track 24. twitterdotcom

track 25. chat I’m in love

track 26. online dating

track 27. the voices

track 28. we’re so in

track 29. we’re so in (fr)

track 30. rei

track 31. turn that frown upside down

track 32. mom and dad kissing under a tree

bonus: chenle likes espresso

tags are closed!

[jenosbliss]

✈️⌇ Beneath the Skies

pairing. flight attendant!reader x captain!jeno | genre. fluff, smut, slight angst | wc. 4k | requested. here | mdni!

warnings. fingering, nipple play, penetrative sex, protected sex (not mentioned but always play safe), lots and lots of kissing and jeno is the greenest flag ever

summary. you and jeno were walking on eggshells around the airline staff, limiting to subtle touches and lingering glances until you sneaked away from the prying eyes. Everything was fine until it wasn't as rumors spread faster than fire.

a/n. guys i love jeno! (ugly crying) anyways if you're uncomfortable with the smut portion you can skip it

The overhead announcement crackled through the cabin speakers, smooth and steady, delivered in a deep voice that always seemed to command attention without even trying.

“This is your captain speaking. We’re beginning our final descent into Osaka. Local time is 7:42 PM, and the weather is clear with a light breeze. We’ll have you on the ground shortly. Thank you for flying with us.”

Jeno’s voice.

You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as you walked down the aisle of the aircraft, your polished heels clicking softly against the floor. As always, his words sparked a ripple of excitement across the cabin. You could practically see the passengers—and some of the other flight attendants—swooning as they tilted their heads toward the speakers.

“Captain Lee Jeno sounds like he should be in a movie,” whispered one of your colleagues, Sara, as she leaned in close to you near the galley.

You gave her a polite smile, hoping it wasn’t too forced. “Yeah, I guess he has one of those voices.”

One of those voices, and one of those faces. And one of those personalities that made your heart ache with an almost unbearable tenderness every time you thought about him. Which was too often.

Sara sighed dreamily. “Seriously, isn’t it unfair? He’s so good-looking and he’s a pilot. He’s the whole package.”

You glanced down at the tray of drinks you were holding, focusing on steadying your hands. “Yeah,” you said softly, unable to resist the flicker of warmth spreading in your chest. “The whole package.”

Sara didn’t notice the way your lips curved slightly or the way your voice softened. No one did. That was the point.

At work, you and Jeno were just coworkers. You had to be.

The first time you met him, you’d been a bundle of nerves, fumbling with your flight manual on your first day as a flight attendant. He had stopped you in the hallway leading to the crew briefing room, his white captain’s uniform crisp and impossibly neat. His voice had been calm and reassuring as he asked if you needed help, and his smile had been so genuine that your tension had melted away in an instant.

Since then, you and Jeno had become… close. Closer than you ever thought possible.

Somehow, between the endless flights, layovers in strange cities, and the long hours spent together in cramped crew lounges, he had become more than just your captain. He had become your anchor.

When turbulence hit—both in the air and in your life—Jeno was always steady. Always there.

But no one could know.

Not when you worked for an airline that prided itself on professionalism and strict boundaries between coworkers. Not when the rumor mill among the crew could destroy someone’s reputation in a heartbeat.

And so, you kept it quiet. Stolen glances in the cockpit. Soft, lingering touches when no one was looking. Conversations that stretched late into the night during layovers, when the rest of the crew was asleep and it felt like the world was just the two of you.

It was enough. Most of the time.

You stood near the exit as the passengers began filing off the plane, bowing and thanking them with a practiced smile. Jeno stood just a few feet away, his tall frame commanding and composed in his uniform.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as he greeted the passengers with the same professional smile you wore.

When the last passenger exited, Sara let out a dramatic sigh, leaning against the cabin wall. “Okay, I’m officially done for today. That flight was too long. Who’s up for drinks tonight?”

“I think I’ll pass,” you said quickly, unbuckling the thin scarf around your neck and folding it neatly. You glanced at Jeno out of the corner of your eye. His lips twitched in amusement, but he said nothing.

“Boring,” Sara teased. “You’re always skipping out on crew hangouts. It’s like you have a secret life or something.”

You laughed lightly, brushing off her comment. “Just tired, that’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie. You were tired—tired of pretending you didn’t notice the way your heart raced every time Jeno’s hand accidentally brushed yours, tired of hiding what you really wanted.

Jeno caught your eye as you both stepped off the aircraft, and for a moment, it felt like the world paused. His gaze was soft, full of something unspoken, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

The night in Osaka had started innocently enough.

The hotel room was larger than usual, the soft hum of the air conditioning filling the space as Jeno leaned against the dresser, his arms crossed over his chest. His tie was already loosened, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and you couldn’t help but notice how unfairly good he looked. Relaxed. Comfortable.

The kind of comfort he only ever showed you.

“You didn’t have to come in here, you know,” he said, though the teasing lilt in his voice gave him away.

You rolled your eyes, sinking onto the edge of the bed as you kicked off your heels. “I wanted to.” That much was true. You weren’t ready to say goodnight to him yet—not after a flight full of stolen glances and moments that had left your chest tight with longing.

Jeno’s smile softened as he walked over to you, kneeling so he was eye level with where you sat on the edge of the bed. “Long day?”

You nodded, letting out a soft sigh as you leaned back on your hands. “Yeah. But this is the best part of it.” He tilted his head, his eyes searching yours. “What is?”

“Being here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “With you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than they should have been. Jeno’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching slightly as if he was holding himself back from saying—or doing—something.

“Sometimes I think this is all we’ll ever get,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “These moments when no one’s watching.” Jeno reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a gesture so light it sent shivers up your spine. “Maybe that’s all we need.”

You shook your head, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm. “If it means I get to be with you, even if it’s just like this… I’ll take it.” Your chest tightened, the weight of his words settling deep in your heart. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, and he leaned into your touch without hesitation.

“Jeno…”

Whatever you were going to say next was forgotten as he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his proximity dizzying.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. “Every single time I see you, all I want to do is—”

He cut himself off, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his forehead pressed more firmly against yours.

“Jeno,” you whispered, your voice trembling. That was all it took.

He closed the distance between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as much a question as it was an answer. It was soft at first, hesitant, like he was afraid to push too far. But when you tilted your head, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, the tension between you snapped like a rubber band.

The kiss deepened, growing hungrier, more desperate, as the weight of every unspoken feeling between you spilled over. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you lost yourself in the way he felt—warm, solid, grounding in a way nothing else ever was.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead dropped against yours once again, his breath warm against your skin.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered, his voice unsteady. “I don’t care where we are or who’s watching. All I want is you.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss.

The kiss was passionate as if Jeno tried to convey everything he felt for you through it. His thumb ran over your cheekbone in a soothing manner while his other hand slid under your dress shirt feeling the warmth of your skin under his.

When he broke the kiss, his lips trailed a wet path from the corner of your lips to the base of your neck. His grip on your waist became rough as he pulled you even closer while he kissed over your collarbone slowly as his lips found their way back to yours where he whispered “I need you.”

Your breath hitched slightly when he gently tugged at your shirt and all you could manage was a gentle nod. “You are going to be the death of me.” he whispered against your lips before pulling you into another soft kiss, his fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease.

Everything Jeno did always made your heart flutter. It wasn’t the first time you were being intimate with him, you have lost count on how many times both of you had shared a kiss and it led to this… both of you craving each other but that never stopped him from asking for your permission, even if he knew the answer. He didn’t have to ask but he did and this made you fall for him deeper and deeper.

Soon your clothes were on the carpeted floor, he had guided you to lay down on the mattress as he moved above you, his hands gently moving up and down your sides while his teeth lightly bit down on your neck making you moan. He licked over the same spot and moved to the other side of your neck repeating his actions.

“You’re beautiful.” he said, trailing his lips down to your chest and between your breasts, sucking and gently biting down on the skin there. He loved marking you up not because he wanted to assert his possession over you but he did so that whenever you look at them you can remember how much he wants you, needs you, loves you. He wants you to remember the words he whispers while he is making love to you, remember the nights of passion and just remember him.

His hands moved to where you needed him the most as he licked your nipples before taking them in his mouth making you arch your back. “Jeno” you whimpered, holding onto his bicep. “Fuck you’re so wet” he said running his fingers along your folds as he peppered wet kisses around your breasts.

He pushed one of his fingers between your folds and rubbed over your clit with his thumb all the while sucking on one of your boobs and fondling the other with his free hand. The simultaneous pleasure sent you moaning loudly and as if he sensed your need he added another finger increasing the pace. “Jeno please…” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pushed him further down on your chest.

He let go of your nipple with one final kiss as he whispered “Use your words baby.” looking at you while he continued to move his fingers inside you at an almost relentless pace all the while rubbing at your clit. He knew what you wanted and also how far he could push you. “Tell me what you want.”

“You! I want you please.” you begged, reaching out for his hand. Every constraint he had was slipping by, he intertwined his fingers with yours and brought your hand to place gentle kisses on your knuckles. “Come on my fingers first? I don’t want to hurt you baby.”

With this said he curled his fingers inside you and rubbed at that spot making you throw your head back as your eyes rolled up. He cradled your face with his other hand and kissed down on your neck once again. “Does it feel good?” he asked and you could only manage to moan at the way his fingers were stretching you out. “I am close Jeno” you whimpered.

“Let it go. Come for me baby.” and as if you were waiting for his permission you came on his fingers moaning his name. He continued to move his fingers through your oragasm prolonging it. Fuck you loved sex with him.

“Do you want more? Or we can do it later.” He wiped the sweat on your forehead gently as he placed a lingering kiss over there. “You need a release too” you whispered looking at how hard he was under his boxers. He followed your gaze and chuckled, cupping your face in his hands as he leaned down to softly kiss your lips “Don’t worry about me, tell me what you want.”

Could he make you love him even more? You smiled back and rested your hand over his “I want you Jeno in every way possible. I want everything you’re willing to give me and everything we can be behind these closed doors.” you promised.

The promise held a thousand unsaid words and Jeno took a moment to just gaze in your eyes with the same desperation and helplessness before he kissed you again but this time it was gentler and slow. It was passionate but not quick and rough.

When he carefully and slowly slid inside you his eyes not once left yours, when he brought your intertwined hands to his lips again he closed his eyes to savour the feeling of your skin against his lips. He looked at you with an intensity that made your cheeks burn but you knew he was just memorizing you for all the time he would spend pretending he isn’t in love with you.

“You’re my heaven.” He groaned at the feeling of your warm walls taking him in as he moved, quickening his pace. “Fuck you feel so good.” he pressed his hand over your stomach slowly pushing you over the edge as you arched your back crying out his name.

His thrusts became faster and he wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you closer, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. “Jeno… I-” you almost screamed at a particular hard thrust. “Does it hurt?” he asked, slowing his pace as he looked down at you concerned. You whined “No no, it feels so good… Please don't stop”

“I just want to make you feel good.” he leaned down to kiss you, drinking up your moans and soft whimpers as he once again increased his speed. His thumb reached down to rub on your clit adding to the pleasure and once again you found yourself close. And Jeno felt it too with the way you clenched around his length or how your grip on his back tightened and he pushed into you with more force and pressure.

You also felt him getting closer with his thrusts becoming erratic and sloppier. He bit down on your lip as he moaned, his fingers digging in your skin. “You are close?” he asked, pulling you closer. “Yes, yes- fuck Jeno” you moaned as he brushed against that spot making you see white. It might have been an involuntary response but the way you squeezed on him in response made him reach his high too and he came undone with a loud groan “Fuck baby… fuck”

He didn’t stop and fucked you both through the orgasms making you writhle under him due to oversensitivity. He smiled seeing you like that under him and slowed down his movements before pulling himself out and lying down next to you. “It was amazing.” He commented, breathing heavily.

You smiled wrapping your arm around his torso as he pulled you closer “It is always amazing with you.” He chuckled his chest rumbling with the sound as he placed a kiss on top of your head. “I am glad.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence comfortable. Jeno reached out instinctively, tucking a strand behind your ear. His eyes studied your face for a moment and he noticed your distant expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. You swallowed hard, looking down at your hand which was playing with his fingers. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I know you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “And I can tell when something’s bothering you.” You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Jeno waited patiently, his dark eyes watching you with a tenderness that made you want to fall apart.

“It’s my family,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “They don’t… They’ve never really treated me the same as my siblings. No matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

Jeno’s jaw tightened, and you saw the flash of anger in his eyes—not at you, but for you. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re more than enough. You’re…” He paused, his brows furrowing as he searched for the right words. “You’re kind and hardworking and amazing at what you do. And anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you.”

Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Jeno…”

He reached out, his hand moving under your chin to make you look at him. His touch was warm, grounding, and you clung to it like a lifeline.

“You don’t have to be perfect for anyone,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “Not your family, not anyone. Just… be you. That’s all I need.”

And when you ended up tangled together on the bed, his arms wrapped tightly around you, it felt like everything you’d been missing had finally fallen into place.

The next morning had been quiet between you, the comfort of his presence lingering as you shared a knowing smile before slipping out of his room. You’d thought you’d gone unnoticed.

You were wrong.

That morning, you’d heard the first murmurs: how you’d gone into Captain Lee’s room at the end of the night, how you’d been in there for hours.

They didn’t know what had happened. They didn’t need to. The damage was already done.

The rumors… they are subtle at first. Whispers in the break room, sideways glances from coworkers. But it doesn’t take long before you realize the truth: the two of you are the talk of the airline. Someone saw you leave the cockpit together. Someone noticed the way you look at each other during every briefing. And before you know it, the whispers turn into gossip, and the gossip turns into questions. The not-so-subtle questions about how you got your position and whether you’d been “using” Jeno to get ahead.

It hurt more than you expected.

Some of your colleagues, mostly the women, start acting strange around you. The sidelong glances, the not-so-innocent comments—it all builds, the pressure growing heavier by the hour.

“You and Captain Lee,” Sara says with a smirk as she hands you a coffee during a layover. “He’s such a charmer, isn’t he?”

You force a smile, but inside, you’re screaming. You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, and the constant barrage of questions is slowly starting to crack your resolve.

Another colleague, this time a more direct one, doesn’t hold back. “Is it true? Are you two dating? I mean, it’s not like you can keep a secret around here.”

You feel your face flush, the weight of the question sinking in. “No,” you say quickly, but even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice. “We’re just... friends. Coworkers.”

But as the days pass, the questions don’t stop. And neither does the growing realization that your coworkers have already decided the truth that you slept your way up, and it’s nothing like what you’ve claimed.

The hardest part isn’t the gossip itself—it’s the way you feel when you realize that none of them see you as anything more than an object of their curiosity. The whispers of your coworkers, the rumors spreading like wildfire—it’s too much. It feels like everyone is watching, waiting for you to break.

But Jeno...

Jeno is there.

He’s always there.

You know he’s been feeling the tension too, the way he’s been watching you during flights, how his hand brushes against yours a little longer than necessary when handing you paperwork. You see the glint in his eyes, the quiet understanding of how hard it’s becoming for both of you.

And then, one evening after a particularly grueling flight, when the weight of it all is almost too much to bear, Jeno finds you crying in the staff lounge one day, you couldn’t hide it anymore. “I know what they’re saying,” he says quietly, as if reading your mind.

“Talk to me please, don’t shut me out.” he said, kneeling in front of you and gently tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes.

You broke.

“It’s the others,” you admitted, tears streaming down your face. “They think… they think I’m only here because of you. That I’m not good enough to do this on my own and I earned this position by sleeping with you.”

Jeno’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he processed your words. “That’s not true,” he said fiercely. “You’re one of the best flight attendants I’ve ever worked with, and you earned your place here. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

His words made something inside you crack wide open. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you whispered. Jeno’s hands tightened around yours. “Yes, you can. And you’re not alone. I’m here, okay? I’m with you.”

“I hate… hiding,” you said, your voice trembling. “I hate feeling like I have to apologize for being with you. Like I’m doing something wrong.”

Jeno reached out, his hands settling on your shoulders as he pulled you closer. “You’re not doing anything wrong,” he said firmly. “And you don’t have to apologize for anything. Not to me, not to anyone.”

Your throat tightened, and tears pricked at your eyes again as you looked up at him. “But it’s not just me. They’re saying things about you, too. About how you—”

“Stop,” he said gently, his hands sliding down to take yours. “Let them say whatever they want. None of it matters. What matters is us.”

His words wrapped around you like a shield, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe again.

Despite the whispers and the tension, you held your head high. And Jeno was with you every step of the way, his quiet support and unwavering belief in you giving you the strength to keep going.

And when he held your hand during a layover in Paris, walking with you along the Seine as the city lights reflected in the water, it felt like all the pieces of your world were finally falling into place.

“You’re my favorite co-worker,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You laughed, your cheeks flushing as you leaned into him. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Only for you,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft, serious tone. He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. The city seemed to fade away as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks.

“I love you,” he said, the words spilling out like a promise. “And I don’t care who knows it or what they think of it.” Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. But then you smiled, your heart swelling with so much emotion you thought it might burst.

“I love you too,” you whispered.

And when he kissed you, it felt like the beginning of something new—something that was entirely yours. No matter what anyone else thought, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain:

With Jeno by your side, the skies were always clear

navigation.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

[haechani4ever]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: pet names✧

╰┈➤ how nct dream would react to you calling them by a pet name for the first time

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋpairing ot7 x gn!reader

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋgenre fluff

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋnote hii. srry for not posting (again, im so srry) hope u like this <3

✦➼mark lee

✦- he will be surprised because you have been together for a relatively short time for you to call him by a nickname. he gets a little nervous trying to hide how happy he is about you calling him that way. after a while he will start calling you the same way, always a little shy and waiting for your reaction. he is simply very much in love with you and only wants to see your smile when he calls you that.

✦➼huang renjun

✦- at first it would seem like it didn't affect him, but it's just his way of showing that it doesn't really bother him and that he likes it. you felt a little bad because you thought he didn't like it but he would return the nickname unexpectedly with a light smile on his face. in the end it would become something special between the two of you and it would be your way of calling each other in private.

✦➼lee jeno

✦- he will probably pretend that it didn't affect him at first and just give you a smile. but in reality he is confused because he doesn't know what to do and he becomes very shy, although he doesn't show it. likewise, the sparkle in his eyes and how he stays thinking afterwards totally gives him away.

✦➼lee donghyuck

✦- as soon as he heard you, he started to make fun of you. he would constantly repeat the nickname and then give it back to you by exaggerating it with the most corny and ridiculous pet name he could think of. it was annoying for you. you just kept a serious face while he laughed subtly. he actually loved it when you called him that but he would never miss an opportunity to tease you.

✦➼na jaemin

✦- he will give you the biggest smile when he hears you. he feels lucky that the person he loves calls him in a special way. he will start calling you the same name because he finds it as something to bring you closer and have a better relationship. obviously he also has 1000 other names that he will call you from now on.

✦➼zhong chenle

✦- he'll probably laugh and tease you a little, but not as much as haechan. he'd tell you that he likes it and that you should call him that more often. he'd also give you a nickname and use it casually, in addition to using the one you told him in the first place.

✦➼park jisung

✦- jisung would get so shy. as soon as the sweet nickname comes out of your mouth he would turn red and look away. he's not used to it since you two haven't been together that long but he would love it. it would be hard for him to admit that he likes you calling him nicknames. he would return the nickname in private in the cutest way with the biggest smile in the world. he's just so cutee

[diorcities]

Nct dream calling their gfs loml (fluff)

⠀   ⠀ ── 💌. ִֶָ ᡴꪫ nct dream calling you loml !

so cute!!. library.

mark. you think you've heard it by mistake. “what's the love of my life doing?”. lifting your head from the book to bump into his serene, distracted countenance trying to see what you're reading. “what?.” he probably thought out loud, because he repeats it again without it this time. that until he realizes, getting flustered immediately and hiding his face on your neck. “no. say it again.” “oh, shut up.”

chenle. what a prick. he usually uses it to get away with getting his way after he's bothered you. he places kisses on your unresponsive mouth while clearly enjoying it. “you're the love of my life.” but the way he says it —with mockery in his annoying demeanor, doesn't hide the tint of affection when he pronounces it. so he drags you by the waist towards him, to continue kissing your smile.

haechan. he won't stop saying it now that he knows the reaction it has on you, but he knows that if he uses it a lot then it won't have the same effectiveness. picks the right moment, like when you're barely awake so he can wrap around your waist and bury his head on your neck. “how was your sleep, love of my life?” the way your skin bristles makes him decide that the best way to do it is to wake you up telling you that. little does he knows it'll always have the same effect because it's not just the meaning, it is also him.

jaemin. he says it all the time like it's your name, and you never get tired of hearing it. your heart still shrinks and warmth spreads in your chest. maybe he doesn't know the effect it has on you; that he says it even when he's distracted makes you want to explode. “what do you want for dinner, love of my life?” he kisses the crown of your head when you snuggle with him, and even though you're on top of him, he's not close enough for you.

renjun. he likes to surprise you with flowers every time he can. and he also likes to go on spontaneous dates on a weekday. when you ask him the reason for the special occasion, he simply answers with the greatest obviousness in the world, “because you're the love of my life.” and even though he usually says the same thing every time you ask him, you can't help but make your heart want to burst with love, and he can't help but not get tired of knowing it either.

jeno. you appreciate how hard he tries to help you with your homework, or when you're doing heavy lifting, or when you just want to reach the top shelf in the kitchen. he's always there when you need him without you knowing it. “do you need help with that, love of my life?” but it's the first time he's said it and you're too far off the ground to process it without the stool wobbling and almost falling to the floor, of course, if it weren't for your loyal helper boyfriend, catching you before you fall.

jisung. being away from you is the worst experience of his life. of course the first thing he when he's back is try to melt into a hug with you. you laugh at the effusiveness that emanates from him with his arms around you. “i missed you. love of my life.” you're both so fuzzy you don't pick up what he says at first. “what?” and because you're so close together you think you've felt his heart stop when he realizes what he's said. you stand there, laughing silly as a blush spreads down his cheeks, “you heard me.”

[featjunranghae]

Fatherhood - Lee Jeno

warning: none in this part. might get suggestive later

summary: when jeno's girlfriend left him to deal with fatherhood alone. he decided he'd never let anyone in his or his daughter's life. that was until he met you. his neighbour whom his daughter seemed to love way too much

single dad jeno was only 20 when he got his then girlfriend pregnant. the entirety of the pregnancy they were together. planning their future with their little angel. but that all changed after his daughter jiwoo was born. his girlfriend wasn't being her usual self for months. he took it as postpartum depression. but one night she just packed her bags.

"I can't do this anymore."

jeno was confused. everything seemed to be going okay. he tried reasoning, tried making her stay. but her only answer was. "keep jiwoo. if I take her she might end up in an adoption."

that night changed everything for jeno. how could he do this alone? but he had to manage. begged his parents to babysit his daughter at day time so he could go to uni and could take extra jobs just to make ends meet. he was devastated. and it was hard going back to normal.

but slowly with time he healed a bit. he needed to heal for his daughter. and for her he'd move mountains. but some days it got exhausting. he just wanted to give up. he was too tired.

it was one of those days. he just finished his finals. he hadn't eaten anything since dinner last night and it was 4pm. he had to take jiwoo for her monthly check up and was on the way back home. and for some reason she wouldn't stop crying. he tried everything. singing, giving her chocolate, toys, YouTube but nothing was working.

he apologized to everyone as he got on the bus. no one liked a crying baby. while some offered him sympathetic smile, for others, the annoyance was clear on their faces. he put his bag down on the seat beside him.

"c'mon baby girl..." he muttered rocking her. "help daddy..." he tried feeding her the bottle but she fussily pushed it away. her wails turned to screeches and jeno felt himself tearing up. could this day get any fucking worse. "baby please-"

"let me help you."

it was like the voice was sent from god himself as jeno looked up at you. your eyes full of understanding as you slowly put his bag down on the ground and sat beside him. "I can hold her if you don't mind."

jeno should question before just handing his daughter out to anyone. but he didn't. he couldn't. he just needed her to stop. so he handed you jiwoo. he watched as you slowly patted her back putting her against your chest.

"it's okay... you're okay..." you hummed and it was like miracle to jeno. jiwoo stopped crying. the wails turned to sniffles. she slowly buried her face in your chest eyes slowly fluttering shut.

"are you a magician?" he asked before he could stop himself. "I'm sorry-"

"I spent all my highschool babysitting." you smiled rubbing your hand on jiwoos back. jeno didn't even know what to say as he stared at his little girl in your arms. "you don't look okay..."

"I'm not... I just.... my baby... she's... I.." he tried thinking of what to say without breaking down. "I just had a long day... I had exams... and work I... I'm so exhausted."

"it's okay to be exhausted-" you waited for his name.

"jeno."

"it's okay to be exhausted Jeno. you're doing such a great job. taking care of a baby isn't an easy job." you whispered to him and that was it. jeno found tearing up.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

"it's okay... let it out." he didn't even know your name and here he was. crying beside you while you held his daughter. he wiped his eyes.

"it's so hard being a father... it's so hard... everything is hard... I just want to quit." he cried wiping his face.

"it is hard. going to uni and taking care of your daughter... but you're doing a great job." you whispered slowly moving one hand to pat his shoulder.

"I'm sorry... you must think I'm some loser crying in the bus-"

"I think you're a dad trying his best." jeno looked up at you then back at his daughter. "I'm yn, by the way. what's this princess's name?"

"jiwoo."

"how old is she?"

"she just turned 2." he said wiping her drool that was about to fall on your shirt. "I'm sorry- I'll take her-"

"I can hold her up until you get off the bus, if that's okay." you offered. he nodded slowly. he needed this. "you mentioned exams... you're in uni?"

"last year." he told you and he saw your eyes widen.

"me too. which major?" you asked hands still rocking jiwoo.

"applied physics."

"damn." you whispered. "must be hard... never understood a word of physics like my whole life."

he found himself smiling at your words. "which major are you in?"

"psychology."

that explains.

the rest of the ride was quiet. it was jeno's stop. he slowly took jiwoo out of your arms. "thank you so much yn... I don't know what I would've done without you today."

"it's okay." you smiled back grabbing your bag. "do you live in 7th streets as well?" Jeno nodded. "the world is so small. I live on 7th street as well. the building beside the convenience store."

"I live on the one opposite to it." he told you as you both got off. no words were shared as you as you reached in front of your building.

"I'll be off then..." you smiled before cooing at jiwoo. "such a lovely girl." you slowly poked her chubby cheeks watching her snuggle even closer to her dad.

"she was anything but lovely today." he chuckled looking down at his daughter with so much adoration. "she's usually calmer I promise."

"I'll take your words for it big guy." you said before waving one last time and walking off. jeno stood there for a while watching you leave. something in his heart told him this wouldn't be the last time you two meet.

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