#seventeen single parent au

[lily-blue]

13 reasons why | reason no.13: the coffee shop is kid-friendly

☆ characters: potter!joshua & single-mom!you (Seori - ‘94 liner) ☆ genre: coffee shop au, single parent au, slice of life, angst, fluff ☆ warnings: distorted views on single parenthood, mental health issues ☆ summary: after you become a single mom, you think relationships are off the table; too bad your daughter doesn’t agree with you ☆ words: 21k ☆ taglist: @dat-town​​

➼ chapter index

When you had been younger - a tad too wild and carefree for someone who had been in her high school senior year in South Korea -, you had thought that being told that your partner had cheated on you was the worst way a relationship could end. However, in your early twenties, you had come to realise that your ideas and beliefs had been unrealistic and sheltered because of your late grandmother’s efforts to give you the same childhood she had failed to give to your father, and that real life was more unfair than you could have ever comprehended. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been forced to leave a loving relationship five months pregnant.

It had been a little over seven years since your break-up with Inwoo, and you did a fabulous job at keeping your daughter’s biological father’s identity a secret. The only people who knew about Haeun’s connection to the prestigious In family were your ex-boyfriend, his mother and your best friend, Seola, who was bound by an NDA just like you in order to ensure neither of you got greedy and tried to harm the chaebols’ reputation. As if you had ever done anything to hurt the man who had made you believe you could have had your own Cinderella story. As if money and power could have ever been more important to you than emotional security and happiness.

But then again, Inwoo’s mother might have thought differently of you. After all, you had agreed to receive monthly child support from a bank account that couldn’t have been linked to her and her son in exchange for your silence. You might have been naive back then, but you had already known that just you and your grandmother wouldn’t have been able to provide the best life for your child.

As you looked at your adorable, six-and-a-half-year-old daughter who was shifting her body weight from one leg to the other in front of you, you tried not to think of your conversation with her homeroom teacher, Haeun’s endless questions about your family’s weird structure since they had learned about family and friends in school or how much she resembled her father. You might not have had childish delusions anymore about Inwoo finding his way back to you, but you also couldn’t have just forgotten the gentleness in his eyes and the happiness he had radiated each and every time he had been talking about marrying you and your growing family. He would have been an amazing father, and you could only hope that you were a good enough mother as well. It surely couldn’t have made you a horrible mom that you couldn’t find a babysitter for your little one last minute. What mattered was that you were trying your best.

Goodness, you sure hoped these inconvenient occasions and your lack of resources wouldn’t cause your daughter a childhood trauma. People these days were talking about those a lot and as a single parent who cared too much, the possibility made you unhealthily self-conscious. If only you had been more hard-working, more ambitious when you had been younger. You should have listened to your teachers and your grandmother and applied for university like everyone else in your high school.

You shook your head and took a step closer to the counter as the person in front of the barista got her order. One more couple to go and it would be finally your turn to purchase your usual cinnamon roll frappuccino.

‘Mom! See! See! See!’ Your daughter exclaimed when her eyes fell on the delicious cakes behind the glass display, her height only allowing her to marvel at the products on the lowest metal shelf. 

Initially, your plan had been to leave her with your neighbour for those six long hours you would be away from home, but Min was still a university student and he had exams to study for, which would have been significantly more difficult with a six-and-a-half-year-old whose curiosity was seemingly endless. Your conscience hadn’t allowed you to ask for such a huge favour, as you didn’t want to undermine his studies. With your tiring part-time jobs, you knew exactly how important that piece of paper was in your society. And he would have had a hard time saying no if you had insisted.

It was the light tug on your pants that pulled you back to the present; your daughter was quick to address the barista behind the counter even though she could barely reach it on her tiptoes. Her swinging pigtails were flying back and forth as she tried to keep her balance and ask for a frog-shaped cookie.

‘That’s a pretty big cookie. Are you sure you can eat the whole thing?’ The barista played along while you were trying to figure out which dessert had caught Haeun’s attention, since you couldn’t see any cookies on the lowest shelf. Hm, maybe she was talking about the extra large cupcake cake that consisted of six individual cupcakes and formed a cartoon-style frog. According to the card in front of it, it was for two people and could be ordered for special occasions in advance in various shapes and sizes. 

You made a mental note to ask the barista about this offer the next time you came to Coffee Carat, because you thought Haeun would have enjoyed a cake like this for her birthday in August, which was in a bit over three months.

‘I’m a big girl,’ she insisted, some of her words slurred together due to the emphasis she tried to put on just how old she was. It made your lips curl upwards; you ruffled her bangs before you looked at the barista. Luckily, he seemed more amused than annoyed by your daughter’s behaviour.

‘Come here, big girl,’ you crouched down to pick the little girl up, so she could see the other dessert options as well. Then, you pointed at the single cupcake on the uppest shelf, the one that depicted a similarly styled cartoon frog’s face. ‘What about this one? This looks just as cute, doesn’t it?’ You negotiated, unbothered by other people’s opinion of your relationship with your daughter. Deep in your heart you knew you weren’t spoiling her just because you cared and constantly encouraged her to communicate about her likes and dislikes openly.

Was what you were doing controversial in your country? More or less, especially amongst the older generation. However, Haeun was your daughter (and your daughter alone) and you tried to raise her in a way you believed was the best for her in the long run. 

‘I think…’ the little girl started, then stopped abruptly like she always did when there was a big decision waiting for her to make. You watched her as she jutted her lower lip out with the most serious facial expression a six-and-a-half-year-old could make. ‘Yes, I like this one,’ Haeun said before she asked you to put her down.

Not wasting a second more - just because you disregarded the judgemental mumbles and soft snorts didn’t mean you didn’t know some of the customers behind you were rather inpatient -, you gave your order to the smiley barista and fished your wallet out of your backpack so you could pay. You actually had a separate bank card in it with all the child support money on for expenses related to Haeun, but you always used your hard-earned salary when it came to such tiny treats. Her grandmother’s fortune was only for emergencies and bigger investments, not to mention that university tuitions got more and more expensive these days. You should have stayed mindful of her savings even if your best friend liked to remind you of Inwoo’s wealth. You couldn’t guarantee and you shouldn’t have expected your daughter to snatch one of those fancy scholarships that covered students’ rent and living expenses as well.

‘Miss,’ the barista called out for you between two forced coughs, indicating that it wasn’t the first or second time he had tried to gain your attention. A bit sheepish, you looked him in the eye, silently asking him to repeat his words again. ‘Here is your change.’

‘Oh! Thank you,’ you mumbled under your nose, cursing yourself mentally for letting your thoughts wander in front of so many people. However, you simply couldn’t have helped it. Ever since Haeun’s homeroom teacher had mentioned to you the English summer camp for the kids, you were constantly thinking about money. What you should have prioritised, where you should have drawn the line when it came to your daughter’s wishes, whether you should have touched the money you were saving for her future or just cut into your own savings.

‘Of course. Here is the little one’s cupcake. The frappuccino will be ready in a minute,’ the barista informed you with a kind smile and gave you a small paper bag with the shop’s logo on it. 

You stepped aside to give room for the next customer.

To kill some time, you fixed your daughter’s messy clothes and pigtails, then let her distract you with her endless tales about her elementary school days because she was only in first grade when most kids were still very excited to learn new things about the world.

Haeun was in the middle of an unnecessarily detailed story about a classmate who always sat on the benches during PE class and never spoke to anyone when your phone started to ring and the voices in your head reminded you that you couldn’t afford to not take it. You hadn’t sent in your application for tens of thousands of jobs in the past eight months to ignore a call - a potential first or second round interview.

‘One cinnamon roll frappuccino to go,’ the barista recited your order the very next second, both delaying your response to the caller and giving you a chance to ask for a tiny favour. So you quickly stepped closer to the counter and reached out for your drink.

‘Thank you. Could you please keep an eye on my daughter for a couple of minutes. She is a smart kid and knows not to go anywhere without me. It’s really just making sure people don’t try to give her anything they shouldn’t or talk her into going anywhere with them,’ you asked under one breath, hoping that your lengthy ramble didn’t annoy the guy too much. You might have been a customer, but he wasn’t obligated to cater to your wishes to this extent.

Still, he took one quick look at your buzzing phone, then at your daughter and nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world.

‘Don’t worry about her. I will keep her company while you take that call,’ someone on your left said and you couldn’t have snapped your head in her direction quicker.

The woman who was speaking to you couldn’t have been that much older than you if she had been older in the first place. Her dark brown hair grazed her shoulders in soft waves while her clothes were on the more messy side: an oversized tee and a khaki overall. At first glance, she looked approachable and kind; however, you didn’t know her and you were wary of leaving Haeun in her care (even though, technically, you didn’t know the barista, either).

‘I’m sorry. That must have sounded so creepy, let me rephrase it,’ the woman spoke up again, and by this time your grip on your phone was so tight as if a part of you believed you could hold onto the person on the other side by crashing the device.

You gulped, visibly impatient, but gave her a chance to explain herself. 

‘My name is Hoyeon and I’m the wife of the owner. I was just about to go over to Freefall for some biscuits, but then I overheard your conversation and couldn’t not think that I have more time to spear than Seungkwan,’ she said, her smile more understanding than anything despite the way you sneaked a glance at the barista to double-check her claim.

As soon as the boy nodded, you bit into your lower lip and crouched down next to Haeun, to check whether she would have been comfortable with staying with Hoyeon.

‘I need to take this call, sugar. Can you be a good girl for me and stay with Hoyeon-ssi?’ You asked her, waiting for a nod or any sign that could have indicated that she wanted to stay with you instead, in which case she should have stayed super still and quiet until the end of your conversation unlike last time when you had accidentally written down the wrong time for an interview because she had been excited to show you the rainbow on the wall.

‘Long call?’ Your daughter asked with a tiny little pout on her lips, giving you the motherly urge to pinch her baby face; you did not resist.

‘Yes, a long call,’ you said; your voice was apologetic and so were your eyes, although your phone stopped ringing a moment later, the possibility of another missed opportunity stressing you out.

‘Okay,’ Haeun agreed to stay behind, sneakily eyeing your backpack where you had shoved the paper bag and with that, the frog cupcake into right after you had paid. Her request made you smile even before she opened her mouth. ‘Can I eat the cake now?’ She asked, tilting her head to the right like her aunt Seola always did when she wanted to get or do something you disapproved of. These two were spending too much time together it seemed.

‘You can,’ you gave in easily, the backpack already halfway off your shoulder. ‘But you need to promise me to not leave the coffee shop, okay? Not even with Hoyeon-ssi,’ you made her promise, using the unbreakable seal: your pinkies.

‘Promise,’ Haeun gave you her word, too, which eased your worries somewhat, reassuring you that you weren’t making the wrong decision despite how ridiculous that was. If someone wanted to harm a six-and-a-half-year-old, it hardly mattered whether the little one was cooperative.

Letting out a sigh, you quickly walked out of the shop and pulled up your call history to open the last caller’s details. You counted to three, five, ten to calm yourself a little, then tapped on the green icon. The person on the other side picked it up for the third ring.

‘Good morning. My name is Jin Jaehyuk from Wrap It Up,’ the man introduced himself in a pleasant voice, asking you whether he was talking to one of the candidates for their driver position, which you eagerly confirmed.

Before seeing their ad on Seola’s windshield a week ago, you had never considered applying for a driver job; however, the salary was almost twice as much as you were currently making and that alone made up for the possible shortcomings that company could have. The cleaner job you currently had pushed those bars really low if you wanted to be honest. At this point, you would have taken anything that didn’t drain you dry by the end of every damn shift.

The conversation with the HR representative was overall pleasant. He asked you about your work experience, how frequently you drove, whether you had your own car and if so, what type so he could find the most suitable company car for you in case you got hired. And lastly, of course, he wanted to know the reason why you had considered their position. Before you realised, you were already talking for twenty minutes, completely disregarding the buzzing of the street and the customers leaving and entering the coffee shop.

Hopeful about a second round interview, you slid your phone into your pocket, then went back to Coffee Carat, just for your soft smile to be stolen by the most terrifying sight that could have greeted you: your daughter sitting on the lap of a man you had never met before. You didn’t think, not really, when you ran up to them and tore the little girl out of his hands.

‘Who are you? And who gave you the permission to touc—’

‘Mooooom,’ Haeun put her tiny hands in your mouth, successfully blocking your accusations with her fingers. Confused and frustrated, you furrowed your brows and looked down at your daughter, visibly asking for an explanation, which she delivered after a huff. ‘Jisoo oppa is Hoyeon unnie’s friend. We were watching Encanto and you ruined the best part,’ she whined like you were the real bad guy in her story instead of the stranger who was caging her with his arms mere seconds prior.

You adjusted your position - shifted her weight in your arms so you could hold her with only one arm - and took her hands out of your mouth. 

‘Kim Haeun, I told you not to be friendly with strangers,’ you scolded her a tad too loudly - something you would have definitely regretted later at night when you were on your own in your bed, thinking back on the day’s happenings, but at that moment, with your heart pounding in your chest, you simply couldn’t. Seeing her with a man your age had scared you, especially because it had been you who had left her alone, so if someone had happened to her, you would have had no one else to blame but yourself.

‘But he is not,’ your daughter insisted. ‘He is Hoyeon unnie’s friend. He’s also Seungkwan oppa’s friend. And he knows the oppa who made the frog cake, the bake,’ she counted all the people she was talking about on her tiny fingers, shoving her three fingers into your face at the end of her monologue.

You pressed your lips together to avoid an accidental scream and took a deep breath through your nose instead. This was when the stranger walked up to you and cleared his throat to gain your attention.

‘I’m sorry for scaring you. My name is Hong Jisoo and I’m close friends with the employees and the shop owner, so when Hoyeon had to go to the toilet, I offered to entertain the little lady since I’m still waiting for my coffee,’ he explained, shooting a reassuring smile towards your daughter that made you feel weird. Not necessarily because he looked like a creep, but because Haeun was suddenly on her best behaviour, beaming at the guy. ‘I can assure you that we were introduced to each other before she sat on my lap. She didn’t break any rules, right, princess?’

‘Haeun is a good girl,’ she puffed her chest out proudly while she tilted her head towards the stranger, Jisoo, who rewarded her with a pat on the head.

As you were watching the scene, you wondered whether this was your female lead moment in real life: a single mom whose daughter basically claimed a random handsome stranger as her oppa in the middle of a lovely coffee shop. You swore, one of the more talented screenplay writers could have built a very nice drama around it.

Except, Hong Jisoo was undeniably taken if the blonde girl who kissed his lips in front of Haeun was anything to go by.

‘Baby, can we go now? You know I need a new bikini for our vacation with the guys,’ she said, pulling on the guy’s arm like even a moment more in your company would have been a waste of her time.

You almost failed to swallow down your chuckle when you heard your daughter scoff at the newcomer. Almost.

‘It’s time for us to go, too,’ you exclaimed politely to draw the girlfriend’s attention away from Haeun and pulled the little girl more into your embrace to block her line of vision. You hadn’t been born yesterday. You knew that Haeun would have given this young woman the stinky eye for clinging onto her new friend if you had let her. She definitely spent too much time with her auntie. ‘I apologise for my reaction. Thank you for looking after her.’

‘It was my pleasure, no worries,’ Jisoo reassured you before one of the baristas called for his name and he walked up to the counter with his girlfriend hot on his heels.

Soon after getting his hands on his order, he was dragged out of the building. And you tried not to think too much into how it was only May, which was way too early for a vacation in your dictionary. It only made you feel poor because it just meant you had never been to any countries before where the weather was warm enough for a bikini so early into the year.

Since Haeun insisted on saying goodbye to all of her new friends, it took you a bit longer to leave the shop, but you did so with a bunch of free cupcakes (the baker assistant had messed up the frosting on a full tray of desserts in the morning and the baker, whose name you learned was Mingyu, was unwilling to put them behind the class display anyway) and a ‘See you later, princess!’ that you didn’t know what to do with. 

Had your daughter just been adopted by all the employees of Coffee Carat? It felt surreal, but then again, Haeun spent an awful lot of time with Seola these days, so you shouldn’t have been too surprised. That woman was a minx. Of course, she had taught your daughter how to wrap the whole world around her fingers.

You made a mental note to pay more attention to whom she interacted with in the future. She was still too young to pick up on malicious intentions. And while that day the two of you were lucky, there wasn’t any guarantee that next time you would be too.

You weren’t a homewrecker. The concept alone made you feel disgust and fury because even though you had never been cheated on, you could resonate with the grief one felt when their significant other was taken away from them. Still, when your daughter kept nagging you that she wanted to go back to Coffee Carat to visit her Jisoo oppa and Hoyeon unnie, you could only stand your ground for about a week.

You wished you had been half as stubborn as your little one. Then, maybe you wouldn’t have sounded like a broken record when you asked about Jisoo from the baristas for the nth time in such a short period of time like a sasaeng.

‘Oppa!’ You heard your daughter scream from the top of her lungs the moment the man set foot in the coffee shop, and you had half a mind to hit your forehead against the table or run, yet you stayed seated. At least, Haeun didn’t run to him without asking for your permission. She was just waving at him furiously with her pink crayon still in her hand.

In that nanosecond when it felt like everyone was looking at you and Jisoo’s eyes were yet to find the source of the scream, you came up with a semi-well-thought-out masterplan to put an end to your daughter delusions, but all the excuses and explanation were thrown out the window when the man smiled at the two of you. He said something to the grumpy barista behind the counter, then walked up to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Yeah, you definitely had to have a conversation with him and Haeun about this situation before your daughter got too attached to him or rumours got back to his girlfriend about you looking for Jisoo at every chance you got.

‘In that an elephant?’ The man asked your little one, who immediately sensed the green light and started to talk about her drawing in much more detail than it would have been necessary. She even took her time to mention the baby elephant’s family and how she was attending the elephant school with her friends. She had a natural talent for storytelling and she lived off of the undivided attention Jisoo was giving her with his random questions.

The moment your brain aided you with the mental image of Haeun doing the same with her real dad, you knew it was time for you to put an end to their fun. It was too much, the way their casual conversation was messing with your head, making you see things that had never happened. (And would have never happened despite Inwoo’s love for his unborn child.)

You pinched your lower arm hard under the table and reached out for Haeun’s hand to remind her of your presence. Her big doe eyes, when she snapped her head in your direction, were adorable. She looked almost surprised that you were also listening to her story.

‘Sugar, can mom speak with oppa, too, for a second?’ You asked, inwardly cringing at the title, because the man was not your brother, your close friend or your lover. However, Haeun liked to refer to him as her oppa, so it made things easier. You would apologise for your rude behaviour later, right after you apologised for your daughter’s obsession with him.

‘Okay,’ Haeun agreed with a small nod as she turned back to her drawing and returned her focus to the elephant school. She hummed along with the radio like she knew the song they were playing even though you rarely let her listen to this type of music and poked her tongue out in concentration. These were clear signs that she wasn’t interested in whatever you had to say to her new friend.

‘Would you mind if I picked up your order with you? I could also use some more caffeine,’ you asked, hoping that he could read between the lines and realise that you wanted to be out of earshot from your daughter while you were talking. You wanted both of you to be able to speak your mind about how you thought you should have handled the issue with Haeun. You didn’t wish to hear his fake words regarding his bond with your daughter, but you also hated the idea of breaking the little girl’s heart when she had been so excited about meeting this man again.

‘Sure, you can even use my discount card,’ he offered with a small laugh while you stood up and pushed your now-empty chair closer to the table, so it wouldn’t be in the way for other customers in your absence.

It would have been a lie to say that the offer wasn’t tempting. You liked coupons and things in general that helped you save money, but it felt like a boundary you shouldn’t have crossed. He had already put up with a lot when it came to you and your tiny family and you barely knew more than a handful of things about him: his name, his relationship status, the fact that he and his girlfriend would go on a vacation in the near future and that he had a lot of friends who worked in this particular coffee shop.

Jisoo must have come to the same conclusion during your short walk, too, because as soon as you stood in the line, he turned towards you and said: 

‘Now that I think about it, I don’t think I caught your name last time.’

The bluntness of his statement made you laugh without meaning to, so you needed a couple of seconds to get back in your more serious mood, the one that you hadn’t possessed before you had turned into a mother. Six years in, and you still struggled to change between these two personas naturally. If anything, your effort must have looked comically forced because of how quickly your facial expression turned from carefree to firm.

Cursing yourself inwardly and simultaneously acting like you hadn’t noticed the surprise on Jisoo’s face, you straightened your back and told him your name. Your introduction was curt; you didn’t share any unnecessary information with the smiley man, which made you sound like you would have rather jumped in front of a bus than befriend him. Obviously, it wasn’t true, but you assumed you had sounded like that even though you would have never risked leaving your baby girl behind. You were her only family.

‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ Jisoo reached his hand out for a handshake that - because of your obvious confusion - served as a nice conversation starter: something that your introduction had clearly failed to be.

Impressed by how effortlessly he connected seemingly unrelated topics to each other, you let him tell you about his upbringing (apparently, he had been born in the United States), when he had come to South Korea and how he had met the guys (he had been minding his own business at a club in his second year in uni when Jeonghan had splashed ice-cold water at his face for allegedly stealing the barstool on his right from a cute girl who had been totally into him) and many other things you wouldn’t have considered sharing with a stranger. Anyhow, he clearly wasn’t of the same opinion, and you didn’t know how to make him stop without coming off as an ungrateful jackass.

‘And now Seungcheol is already married, and I’m pretty sure Jeonghan will ask Yoohyeon to marry him this year…’ he trailed off by the end of his monologue with something akin to longing in his voice, although you couldn’t have been a hundred percent sure. It also wasn’t your place to be curious. Whether he had wanted the same commitment with his girlfriend or not, whether it had ever caused fights between the two of them…

No, it wasn’t your business, you absolutely, utterly, wholly refused to make it yours.

However, Jisoo didn’t give you much of a choice; there were two more customers between you and the counter.

‘I’m happy for them. Actually, I’m happy for everyone. Would you believe it if I told you that two and a half years ago all thirteen of us were singles?’ He asked with a low chuckle before he dove into yet another story you had never asked about: how it had all started with Cheol, Hoyeon and this coffee shop.

‘Actually, what I wanted to talk about is related to Hoyeon-ssi,’ you cut him off at the first chance you got even though your daughter’s fascination with him wasn’t as related to the woman as you made it sound. It was a rather desperate attempt at taking control over the conversation without wasting the time you had in relative private. ‘You see, Haeun-ah has this misconception that everyone in this coffee shop - but especially you - is her new best friend, and I think we should find a way to break it down to her that it’s not how life works.’

‘Why not?’ Jisoo asked without a moment of hesitation, confusing you enough to make you stumble over your own words.

You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips as you were looking at him.

‘What do you mean why not?’ You asked once you found your voice again, letting him pull you towards the counter by your elbow gently in the meantime. Too fixed on waiting for his answer, you barely registered the movement.

‘Why doesn’t life work like that? I’m pretty sure everyone’s best friend was a stranger at one point,’ the man said and you furrowed your brows even more. Sure, what he was saying was on point, but that wasn’t what you had meant at all. What you had wanted to say was that your daughter should have been told that grown men and women didn’t form meaningful friendships with random children who weren’t related to them.

‘Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I can argue with that or want to argue with that to begin with, but the possibility of any of you staying in my daughter’s life is pretty unlikely, and I also don’t want her to want to come here too frequently to play with you when it’s your workplace,’ you said, proud of how coherent your reasons fell from your lips.

There was no way Jisoo could have misunderstood you again. At least, that was what you had thought until he opened his mouth and pointed it out that:

‘This shop isn’t my workplace.’

‘O-okay. It’s still not the point,’ you retorted, a bit more irritated than you would have liked to be, since you were not only in public but only a few metres from your daughter whom you didn’t want to show a bad example. Still, your urge to shake some sense into this man was growing exponentially. ‘Haeun-ah was trying to convince me for a week to bring her back here so she could play with you guys and I have a hard time saying no to her when she is so determined. I need your help to make her understand she is making you guys uncomfortable.’

‘Well, I can only speak for myself, but she doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. Mingyu was also happy to meet her and Seungkwan’s girlfriend was complaining the other day that she couldn’t meet her…’ he trailed off by the end of his sentence as though he wasn’t sure he should have kept going. You couldn’t put your fingers on the hesitation in his eyes until he took a breath and continued. ‘Isn’t it that she makes you feel uncomfortable?’

You didn’t know what to say to that. Because the possibility hadn’t even occurred to you until the accusation more or less intentionally hit you in the face. Was your daughter’s behaviour affecting you more negatively than anyone else? Could it have been that you made everything a bigger deal than it was because you were embarrassed by how freely she showed her affection for others while you were constantly trying to close yourself off from new people to not get hurt again?

‘Hey…’ Jisoo’s unexpectedly soft voice pulled you out of your head, and he offered you an apologetic smile as soon as your eyes refocused on him. ‘I didn’t mean to sound rude. It’s just that… you worry too much. Your daughter is adorable and she didn’t do anything wrong. She is free to come hang out with us in the shop on less busy days. To hang out with me,’ he reassured you while he also took you by the elbow again, leading you up to the counter. Oh! He was surprisingly good at keeping tabs on his surroundings. You hadn’t even realised that it was finally your turn to order, too stunned by his opinion about the issue you had clearly blown out of proportion.

‘Hi guys! What can I get for you?’ One of the female baristas asked at the same time Jisoo tried to ease the kinks in your shoulders with a light-hearted comment.

‘Who knows? She might get bored of us in a month or two. Adults aren’t as exciting as they should be with all that money and freedom they have,’ he joked, bumping his upper hand into yours with an easy-going smile.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

‘I…’

He was right. It might have taken your daughter two years to grow out of her Cinnamonroll and Kuromi obsession, it might have taken her half a year to not request chocolate cake for dessert every time she had had the chance, but she had indeed moved on with time. If you were lucky, she would get over this place sooner than her lost teddy bear she had cried over for three weeks last year.

‘It’s just the usual for me, Yeseo. And some…’ Jisoo turned towards you. ‘What would you like to drink?’ 

‘Me? I…’ The shock on your face shouldn’t have been as visible as it was, but you couldn’t help it. You just hoped neither Jisoo nor the girl behind the counter had enough nunchi to read you like an open book and question your sanity. Like seriously, why were you so damn speechless just because he wanted to order for you and seemingly didn’t mind hanging out with your daughter to protect her childlike innocence.

The bar was seriously low with you, wasn’t it?

You quickly cleared your throat and straightened your already straight back.

‘I’ll have a caramel frappuccino, thank you,’ you chose, one hundred percent intending to pay for your own drink when your phone started to ring in your pocket out of the blue. Sure, you had a couple of ongoing applications still, but they were either too old to hear back from or too new.

Afraid that it might have been your best friend who was, for some reason once again, in trouble, you fished the device out of your jeans and looked at the screen with a throbbing knot in your throat. It was a number you had never seen before.

You looked at Jisoo then the barista, not sure how much you owned for the frappuccino and when you should have told the girl that you wanted a sandwich and an animal-themed cupcake, too.

‘I think you should take it. Might be important,’ Jisoo pointed at your phone, his smile soft just like his eyes. If your head hadn’t been full of to-dos, worries and usual single mom stuff already, you might have had to actively remind yourself that he was taken.

Why was he so nice to you?

‘I’ll be back in a second,’ you promised at the end because you soon came to the conclusion that asking him to order for Haeun and you some food, too, would have been too complicated with that little time you had before the other person gave up on contacting you. You would just buy them after the call. ‘Thanks.’

Taking a few steps towards the double doors, you remained inside the coffee shop this time; however, you made sure you weren’t in the way to any of the staff members and customers and that the buzzing of the business wasn’t too loud around you, so you wouldn’t misheard any important piece of information.

The call barely took two minutes; the man on the other side of the line got down to business as soon as you introduced yourself and he double-checked your identity. It turned out, there were three group job interviews happening in an hour at their company building, and two people had cancelled on them at the last minute. HR had decided to contact those candidates who had almost made it into the second round and give them a chance to charm them in person. You were one of the lucky ones in case you could make it in time.

Their location was thirty minutes plus minus five from Coffee Carat. There was no way you would have turned down such an opportunity even if you believed you were at a disadvantage compared to the majority of the interviewees.

It was when you put your phone away and turned around that you suddenly remembered that you should have calculated a detour into your route when you had agreed to the interview. After all, Haeun was sitting by your table, colouring with Jisoo while munching on a piece of cake that shouldn’t have been in front of her to begin with.

You rushed up to the duo like a madwoman.

‘Haeun-ah. We need to go,’ you rushed her, crouching down next to her chair to be more at eye level with her. It usually helped with convincing her to do something she might not have liked because she felt like you were taking her seriously. Like she was a big girl who could understand certain things babies couldn’t.

This time; however, this trick didn’t seem to work. The cheesecake in front of her was too distracting, and so was Jisoo’s presence who had gotten a blank paper and some crayons in the meantime.

‘No! We can stay until dinner. Mom, you promised,’ she objected, holding onto the light pink crayon so firmly, her tiny little knuckles turned white.

You bit into your cheek from the inside to not scold her for making it hard for you when you didn’t have that much time to spare. It was your own decision to raise her the way you were raising her: allowing her to have an opinion and when safe, the freedom of choice. Still, it would have been nice if she had just gone along with your wish without the need to give her an explanation why you wanted to have a new job. She obviously wasn’t ready for any topic at that maturity level - even if you hadn’t gone into too much detail.

You wished you had more people to rely on when it came to these matters. Sure, you would have never regretted becoming a single mom, but for the love of God, you did miss Inwoo on days like this one.

‘I can stay with her for an hour or two. And I’m pretty sure the guys could also keep an eye on her in case something came up, which is highly unlikely,’ Jisoo offered. He lifted his hand to his mouth and lowered his voice as he whispered-shouted as if he was sharing a big secret with both you and your daughter. ‘I’m my own boss.’

‘Thank you, but I really shoul—,’

‘Yey! Please, mom, please! I want to stay with Jisoo oppa,’ Haeun exclaimed, totally hyped due to the idea as she was jumping up and down on the chair with her upper body. One glance at her happy smile was enough for you to realise that forbidding her to stay and taking her to your best friend after the man had already agreed to play with her would have been disastrous. In the best case scenario, she would have cried her eyes out while you carried her in your arms.

In the worst, you would have been the bad guy for at least an entire week and received the attitude a little longer. You wished Jisoo had discussed this with you in advance now that he made it clear that he didn’t intend to pop the little girl’s pink bubble as you had suggested slash requested a few minutes prior.  

It was hard to be grateful when you were also rightfully frustrated.

But dealing with these two was future-you’s problem. Present-you had an interview to attend to.

So you took the nth deep breath in less than five minutes and stood up from the ground. Then, you leaned down to kiss the top of your daughter’s head as a goodbye while making her promise to be on her best behaviour. 

‘Here!’ Jisoo pushed a paper cup into your free hand when you were about to walk up to your laptop and turn it off so it wouldn’t have unnecessarily died on you while you were away. ‘I heard you double checking the time for the interview and asked Yeseo to put your frappuccino in a paper cup instead,’ he explained, pointing at the side of the container with a pleased smile on his face. ‘I also wrote down my kakao ID, so you could add me and check on Haeun in case you’re worried or something.’

It was the most thoughtful thing a stranger had ever done for you; it was something none of your family members had done for you since your grandmother’s passing and that alone… It blew out the flickering flames of your anger.

Your voice was quiet but genuinely grateful when you thanked him. You packed your bag and left.

You didn’t contact Jisoo until you got to the location, but his reassurance and those photos he sent you with your daughter, both of them cheering on you with their fists raised for a lively “hwaiting”, took tons off your chest as you were sitting in the waiting room with ten other people.

You might not have been the most talkative or most well-dressed person at the interview, but you really believed that you did an amazing job at charming the HR representatives. And it was all thanks to Jisoo and his willingness to act as your temporary safety-net.

Walking out of the company building, you knew you couldn’t refer to him as a stranger any longer. He also deserved some compensation for his help. You just had to figure out what to do for him to pay off some of the imaginary debt.

Although the thought to buy Jisoo a cake for basically babysitting your daughter for free had crossed your mind, you had quickly come to the conclusion on your way back to the coffee shop that paying for sweets at his friend’s business might have been a better option. This way the money would have gone to someone he knew. Literal perfection.

Your almost childlike excitement was apparent in the way you entered Coffee Carat around two and a half hours after leaving your daughter with Jisoo. Your steps were lighter and your smile a tad wider than they usually were until your gaze fell on the empty table Haeun should have sat by and you recognised her pitched voice coming from a different one.

‘Take back! Take back! Take back!’ She screamed at a man you had never met before while both Jisoo and another unfamiliar person watched her hit the blond man’s upper hand once, twice, three times in less than ten seconds.

Your eyes grew wide in horror as you rushed up to the table, pulling the little girl away from the understandably annoyed stranger.

‘Kim Haeun!’ You raised your voice on purpose, to make her realise that she was in trouble for screaming and fighting someone so aggressively when you had raised her better. If this man had done anything wrong, she should have stayed away from him and asked for help from someone she knew she could trust.

Which reminded you of…

‘I’m so sorry for my daughter’s behaviour…’ you bowed your head at the blond man first and foremost, then turned towards Jisoo who was sitting across from him, undoubtedly enjoying himself. At least, he had been clearly doing so until your eyes met and the smile fell from his lips. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on?’

‘The bad man said bad things about Jisoo oppa,’ your daughter claimed, her pitched voice making it obvious that she felt upset about whatever this man had told her about her new best friend.

‘Sugar, please let them explain themselves first,’ you asked her, hoping that the nickname you always used to make her feel special helped soothe her nerves a little and if not, at least she realised you weren’t as angry with her as you had been when you had arrived. You still didn’t support violence, but you could also acknowledge that sometimes it was hard to contain one’s feelings, especially when it came to standing up for people they liked.

‘Sawry,’ she mumbled into the crook of your neck, suddenly a bit shy even though you could feel her head moving a little as though she was trying to steal glances at the three people at the table without you noticing.

She was definitely spending too much time with her aunt.

‘Hello. I’m Haeun’s mother. Can I ask who you are and what you said that upset my daughter so much? You see, she isn’t usually a violent child, so I’m a little surprised, that’s all,’ you tried to be as polite as possible while also demanding an explanation. If you did, you did not intend to sound like one of those entitled parents who believed their children could do no wrong, but on the other hand, you had this inner urge to take Haeun-ah’s side until she was proven guilty.

‘I’m Jeonghan, Joshua’s best friend. I was just asking him about his relationship since Cheol is already out and I want a free vacation. Nothing upsetting, really,’ the blond man informed you, his smug smile making him sound that much less sincere. If you wanted to be honest, you had a hard time believing that he was telling the truth, but it was also true that you didn’t understand everything that had left his mouth.

‘Who is Joshua?’ You asked, although what you really wanted to know was: why would his relationship have upset your daughter?

‘Your babysitter?’ The man threw the question at you instead of answering before he snapped his head in Jisoo’s direction like he wanted the other to come forward and confess.

You also wished he had spoken up without further nagging and explained what was going on. Was this man his friend? If so, how were the two of them related to the quiet, blonde woman and how his relationship could have given this man a free vacation?

No answer should have come with as many more questions as Jeonghan’s explanation did.

‘Yeah… That’s me. Jisoo is my Korean name, but most people call me Joshua actually. It’s my American name, I’m sorry,’ he cleared up the misunderstanding before he introduced his friends to you, bringing up stories he had already shared with you, so you could link their faces to their names and personalities more easily.

It didn’t help a lot, but you didn’t bother to enlighten him, because you were afraid to break his flow. At least, he was willing to answer all of your questions, which was a moderately good sign.

‘The bad man said oppa’s a ship acid, but it’s a lie! He has to take it and say sorry!’ Haeun chirped in in the middle of Jisoo - or Joshua, as most people apparently knew him around here - introducing Yoohyeon-ssi to you. The woman who was his friend’s girlfriend; the very same woman who would soon be asked to marry the blonde man if you had recalled the most recent story you had heard about these two.

Turning your head towards your daughter, you furrowed your brows. She looked so upset, like genuinely upset about Jeonghan’s comment on Jisoo that you didn’t have the heart to ask her to repeat what she had heard nor could you inquire whether she knew what acid meant in the first place.

‘Wrong,’ Jeonghan tsked, narrowing his eyes at your little girl like he was seriously trying to challenge her to call him a liar one more time. ‘I said he’s a relationship addict, because he is. This girl - whose name I didn’t even bother to memorise anymore - is his third girlfriend this year,’ he claimed, and when your eyes met and you showed no judgement or bewilderment, he used one of his hands to give emphasis to his reasoning. ‘We aren’t even halfway through this year!’

As you were shifting your gaze from Jeonghan to Jisoo, then to the blonde woman who was hovering over her laptop, fingers quick as lightning on the keyboard, the only thing you could think about was: well, that made a lot more sense than “ship acid”, didn’t it?

‘Jeonghan, please,’ Jisoo’s firm scolding fell from his lips the same moment Haeun started to yell from the top of her lungs:

‘Take it! Take it! You big liar!’

You had never wished more that the ground would split in two and swallow you at whole. Because while you understood that what your daughter wanted to say was “take it back”, you were pretty sure the majority of those who were giving you the judgemental stare and stinky eyes thought that Haeun-ah was already unhinged, at the tender age of six.

You hated only a few things less than misunderstandings.

‘Sugar, please stop picking fights,’ you warned the little lady, slowly putting her down on the floor so the unexpected change in height could calm her down a little. ‘Screaming at people and hitting them are also bad,’ you reminded her as soon as you crouched down at her level, simultaneously squeezing her little hand to make sure she knew you weren’t angry at her. She had every right to be upset. You would have never invalidated her feelings.

(Your parents had talked down to you while you had been still living with them too many times to even consider giving the same treatment to your own child.)

‘He says sorry, too,’ she demanded with a pout, having enough shame in her to stare at her feet instead of looking up at you, which made you a tad conflicted, because you would have liked to see her eyes. It always made it easier to read her - a skill quite handy when one had to raise a child.

You took a deep breath through your nose and tilted her head upwards with your index finger under her chin.

‘Okay. Let’s act like we are big girls and apologise first, hm?’ You said, phrasing it like a question to let her make the right decision consciously, so the next time anything like this happened, she would remember what to do. Guiding her through these experiences always worked better than forcing her to do the right thing.

It took her a few seconds, but eventually, Haeun nodded and turned towards the blond man with her entire body. Her tiny arms were pressed against her sides as she bent her back in a 90-degree angle, over-emphasising her politeness. You bit into your lower lip to not scold her for overdoing it on purpose.

‘Haeun is sorry,’ she said, then straightened her back and looked up at Jeonghan expectantly. 

It made Jisoo crack up and even the quiet lady let out a muffled chuckle while she kept her eyes on the screen. 

You weren’t exactly counting the seconds, but you knew the silence had stretched too long when your daughter started to get fidgety and one of the baristas, whose name you hadn’t learnt yet, came up to your table with some snacks and five glasses of cold beverages: orange juice for your daughter and coffees for all four of you.

‘Jeonghan,’ the blonde girl said with a tired sigh. ‘Apologise to Haeun.’

‘Why? Everyone knows I’m right,’ the man huffed, mumbling something under his nose about Jisoo’s new girlfriend and how it was a waste of money to buy her a new bikini because there was no way they would have lasted that long. ‘Also, I’m not sorry at all. It would only teach her the wrong lessons,’ he claimed, his smug smirk ridiculously potent as he let his gaze fall on your daughter, then looked up at you to add: ‘We wouldn’t want that, would we now?’

Too shocked to even part your lips or let out a scoff, it didn’t surprise you that you weren’t the first one to react. What did take you aback, though, was the elegance the blonde woman handled the situation with. You would have never been able to keep your facial expressions that neutral or your voice so stable while you told your significant other that they were less mature than a six-and-a-half-year-old child.

‘If you’re so keen on teaching the right life lessons to people, I have one for you, too,’ the woman said before she put her hand on the top of her laptop’s screen and turned her head in her boyfriend’s direction, completely unbothered. If it could have, your jaw would have fallen on the ground because of how badass she sounded; like she knew she had the upper hand and wasn’t afraid to make it clear to everyone. ‘Making bets on your best friends’ relationships is seriously messed up. I’ve already told you this, haven’t I?’

‘Yeah, but…’

‘But it’s a tradition and everybody does it anyway,’ she cut Jeonghan off by finishing the sentence for him in the same manner like she was talking about their next grocery shopping. You crouched down behind Haeun-ah and pulled her small body against your chest, not sure if you were allowed to leave. It was a very weird situation; it made you feel out of place and as a mom, that was something you really hated.  

Your eyes were pleading when you looked up at Jisoo; however, he was busy with the drama that was unfolding in front of you, so he clearly didn’t get the memo. You held onto your little girl more firmly and leaned close to her ear so you could tell her that you were about to leave.

Except…

Yoohyeon turned off her laptop and reached out to your daughter to ruffle her hair with a soft smile. She looked beautiful. So calm and approachable, you had this silly urge to go to her for advice even though she was practically a stranger.

‘Hey, big girl! I’m sorry this rude ahjussi upset you, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure he will sit long enough in the corner to learn his lesson,’ she reassured Haeun that Jeonghan would be punished, which seemed to satisfy the little lady considering the firm nod she gave to the woman.

‘What do you mean by that?’ Jeonghan asked in a slightly pitched voice, but his girlfriend wasn’t having it anymore. She just put her laptop into her laptop bag in a leisurely way.

‘I’ll take the subway to my publisher’s office,’ she stated, nodding towards Jisoo at first, then in your direction. What Jeonghan got was a pat on the shoulder and a cold yet somehow still affectionate: ‘Call me when you’ve grown up. I’m ordering chicken for dinner.’

With that, she was out the door like she had never been there.

‘I think it’s time for us to go, too,’ you jumped on the opportunity before any of the men could have broken out of their stupor and taken their anger out on you. Well… more like Jeonghan, since you seriously doubted Jisoo had any reason to be angry with you, but who knew? Bro codex and such things did exist and they were close friends.

You were acquaintances at best and the most fun people to spend time with according to your daughter. 

‘But mom… my juice!’ Haeun pouted; however, this time you decided to put your feet down and use your physical advantage as it should have been in tough situations: you lifted her off the ground and looked around in search of her papers and crayons.

‘Where are your drawings, sugar?’ You whisper-asked while scanning the area around where your previous table had been to no avail. Which was both comforting because it meant your stuff hadn’t been left behind unsupervised, but also frustrating because those pieces of papers clearly weren’t on the new table, either.

‘In my princess folder,’ she informed you like there was no other place those drawings could have been and you sighed, because as far as you were concerned, you hadn’t brought any folders with you that morning and even if you had done, she didn’t own a princess one to begin with. ‘It’s behind Jisoo oppa,’ Haeun gave you another direction, most likely sensing just how lost you were still.

You furrowed your brows and shifted your gaze to Jisoo, who was already looking at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

‘I’m sorry, but could you give me her stuff? We’re going home,’ the words fell from your lips kindly, secretly hoping that if you spoke quietly enough, you could have stayed under his best friend’s radar. You genuinely didn’t want to fight - not in public, not with a grown ass man who was acting like a child and especially not with the friend of someone you were already indebted to. If you had done that, you would have set yourself up for a disaster for sure, and only stupid people did that.

With Haeun in your arms, you couldn’t have afforded to be stupid anymore.

‘Oh? Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s no problem,’ Jisoo exclaimed a bit clumsily, quickly turning his back to you so he could fish the folder and all the crayons out of his own bag.

You snatched them both out of his hands with a quick ‘Thank you.’

On your way towards the front door, you could feel your daughter peeking out from behind your shoulder, watching the two men, but you didn’t care. You marched towards the street with all your might and didn’t stop until the nearest subway station.

You just knew Seola would have laughed at you if she had seen you bolting from the scene.

It was Jisoo who sent the first personal message to you via kakao, and you were so taken aback by how unrelated it was to anything you had ever talked about, you had half a mind to ask your daughter whether she had said anything funny about you to the man. After all, why else would he have sent you a One Piece meme in the middle of a boring Wednesday. A Zoro one on top of everything. Were you too basic?

Maybe. But even so, he shouldn’t have known. So you asked him whether he had messaged the wrong person and from there, the rest was history.

You didn’t text daily, but he asked you about your job hunting frequently (even went as far as sending you job advertisements that didn’t require more than a high school diploma), how Haeun-ah was doing at school and your opinion on cute date ideas that he found nice and also doable but his male friends made fun of. Overall, it didn’t take longer than three weeks and you started to refer to him as a friend in your head.

Still, how you had ended up at a pub with a very drunk Jisoo at 11PM on a Friday night when your daughter was having a sleepover at her aunt’s place was beyond you. On the other hand, when you gave it a serious thought, you had indeed seen his best friend making fun of his relationship a few weeks prior, so was it really that surprising that he had reached out to you when his girlfriend had dumped him? You didn’t think so.

‘Yes, she looked sexy in the red one, but is it really worth breaking up over?’ He threw the first ridiculous question at you as soon as you arrived and took a seat next to him at the main bar.

You called over the bartender and asked for a juice and a glass of iced water.

‘Jisoo…’ you called out to him, peeling his fingers off his half-finished beer. ‘It might sound like I’m taking Jeonghan’s side, but I really don’t think she broke up with you because of the bikini,’ you tried to comfort him, although you were unsure whether your words were doing the job or only upsetted him more.

So far, he looked more confused and lost than anything. 

‘But she said so! She got mad at me when I gave her the black one. She said I’m a possessive pig and she can’t take my conservative ideas anymore,’ he croaked, making a weak attempt at getting his beer back, but you were faster.

The tears in his eyes and on his cheeks made your heart hurt. Especially because it had been you who had insisted that his ex-girlfriend would be happy to get either of the bikinis he had chosen for her as the thought mattered more than the gift itself. You still didn’t believe that the girl’s reason for dumping Jisoo was more than a cheap excuse, but you did feel partly responsible and that sucked.

‘If she thought that way of you, that just means she wasn’t the right one for you,’ you said, the words one hundred percent true and yet… You weren’t sure they were as comforting as you had intended them to be. Even to your ears, they sounded a tad too cliche to convey just how worried you were about him.

The bitter chuckle that left Jisoo’s throat only proved it further that he didn’t believe you. And why would he have? One and a half months ago you hadn’t known about each other’s existence.

So you were grateful when the bartender served you your drinks. It gave you an opportunity to divert the topic without sounding too insensitive.

‘Here,’ you put the glass of water into Jisoo’s hand, slowly brushing a few strands out of his forehead without realising how intimate it could have seemed to people who didn’t know you and the way you comforted people ever since you had become a mom. ‘Do you think you can finish the whole glass for me?’

The moment your eyes met, the unintended implication behind your words hit you like a bullet train, and your cheeks decided to throw you under the bus: both sides dressed in a dark shade of ruby red. Naturally, it was you who broke eye contact first.

‘I must have messed up pretty bad,’ Jisoo came to the conclusion a couple of heartbeats later, drawing your attention back to him, both of your eyes fixed on the glass in his hands he was playing with. You wished you had known what to say, but it was difficult, because you didn’t know what made him say that. The dates he had organised (at least, the ones he had told you about) had sounded both cute and fun. You would have loved going on any of them if you had wanted to be honest. Not to mention that he had taken his girlfriend on a date around three or four times a week, which was more frequent than the average as far as you could tell. ‘She couldn’t even stay with me until the group vacation and we’ll leave in two days.’

You frowned, genuinely bewildered that Jisoo would have preferred getting dumped after the vacation like that wouldn’t have meant he was being used.

You took a sip from your juice and reached out to his hand to lift his own glass in front of his lips. He needed to sober up real quick before his intoxicated brain could have convinced him that he should have contacted the girl to ask her to join them for the trip or something. Nah, not under your watch.

‘Why would you want to be with someone who clearly isn’t in love with you?’ You inquired, slowly turning towards him with your entire body.

You let your eyes loiter over his bent figure, his puffy eyes and the dried snot above his lips and on the back of his hand. He looked worn down and his wrinkled clothes didn’t help much with his overall appearance. Should you have called one of his friends to pick him up? Was it really okay for you to see him like this?

‘Is this why you’re not with your baby daddy anymore?’ His question came out of nowhere, hitting you in the guts without any kind of warning. His bluntness rendered you speechless while your knuckles turned white around your drink.

The indirect mention of Inwoo made you wish you had ordered something stronger, because this wasn’t a topic you were ready to share with Jisoo or anyone who hadn’t known about your history already, especially when the other party wasn’t a hundred percent conscious. It might have been easier if you could have said that you had stopped loving each other at one point, but that hadn’t been the case. For the two of you, love had simply not been enough.

You stalled, taking another sip from your drink, contemplating whether you should have stayed silent, called for the bill and left or answered his question honestly. 

In the end, you decided to lead by example and be the bigger person (like how you raised your kid).

‘No. We were still in love when we parted ways.’

Jisoo snapped his head in your direction at a speed that should have made his head dizzy and gave you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. Though, his eyes did make you feel like you were from a different planet.

‘Then why would you do that? You have a child together!’ He exclaimed, obviously upset about the part of the truth you had revealed. ‘Haeun alone should have been enough to stay together, but you’re saying you were still in love?’

Listening to his accusation - because it felt like an accusation to you - you clenched and unclenched your jaw, trying your best to keep your cool; however, it was difficult. Because he not only acted like you had failed your daughter, like you were selfish for not fighting for your relationship harder, but he was calling you out on all of these at a public place, raising his voice in frustration as though he had any business getting upset.

‘Stop that,’ you retorted, spatting each word into Jisoo’s pale face. ‘You don’t get to judge us when you know nothing about our situation,’ you started, taking a drawn out breath before you kept going: ‘Do you really believe Haeun wasn’t enough for us? Inwoo couldn’t wait to see her. He wanted to give us the best life, and he would have if the circumstances allowed it, so think twice before you say anything like that ever again,’ you warned him, lifting your left hand in front of his face to cut him off before he could have thought of adding anything else to your conversation.

For the first time in a while, the silence was suffocating in Jisoo’s company, but you did your best to shut it out and concentrate on the cold drink in your hands. He was drunk, and while it shouldn’t have been a passable excuse, it helped you not hold grudges against him for being so insensitive. Love and relationships were clearly sensitive topics for the both of you.

‘I’m sorry. I crossed a line,’ the man spoke up once he emptied his glass as if he had been afraid to draw your attention at himself before he had at least done this much for you. Which was ridiculous, but also a tad bit cute.

‘Yeah, you did,’ you agreed in a heartbeat, refusing to downplay just how wrong he had been when he had judged you and your ex. ‘But now you know better, so I forgive you,’ you added, sending a small albeit genuine smile in his direction, which he reciprocated with only a couple of seconds of delay.

You made Jisoo drink a second glass of water after that, and you spent the following half an hour in relative silence before he sobered up enough to be able to walk in a straight line with minor assistance from your side. You used his card to pay for his bill, then led him outside where your taxi was already waiting for you, not letting go of his elbow until you were both sitting comfortably in the backseat.

It didn’t take a minute and his head fell on your shoulder. His snoring was quiet but audible due to how close he was to you. You also couldn’t ignore the shiver his warm breath sent down your spine whenever it fanned over your neck.

‘Miss, we have arrived,’ the old taxi driver informed you, politely asking you if you needed any additional help with your company, but you declined the help for two reasons. 1) It was Jisoo’s place, not yours, so you weren’t sure you were allowed to make that decision. 2) He had been sober enough to get in the car without much trouble, so you hoped he wouldn’t have collapsed on you on your way to his flat.

‘Thank you. I’ll pay by card,’ you said and used your own card to pay for the ride after you shook Jisoo awake. You got out of the vehicle first, but you held the door for him and even helped him with his balance when his feet touched the pavement.

The thought that you should have asked the old man to wait for you crossed your mind only after you got inside the building, so it was clearly too late to rush out and make him stay an extra ten minutes or so. Agrr. You would need to call for another car once you made sure Jisoo got in bed just fine (and had some painkillers and a glass of water on his bedside table for the following morning).

‘I’m heavy,’ the words were mumbled against your shoulder when in the elevator, Jisoo lost his balance for a sheer moment and bumped his forehead into the crook of your neck.

He was such a mess, but you still decided to take a small part of his body weight on you for the remaining distance as you helped him straighten up and let him swing his arm over your shoulder. He was heavy, but lucky for him, you were used to carrying a stubborn and sleepy six-and-a-half-year-old in your arms on a daily basis, so you could manage.

‘Jisoo…’ you tried to gain his flickering attention when you stopped in front of his unit. ‘We need your keys or your code,’ you reminded him and turned your head deliberately when he reached out to the panel, because even though it wouldn’t have hurt anyone if you had known his code, you didn’t want to disrespect him by taking advantage of him when he was clearly in a vulnerable state. 

Once inside, you made him sit on the cushion attached to the shoe rack, a built-in mirror and the hanger with his jackets, then helped him untie his shoes that he had previously tried to get rid of with his heels and toes. So lazy.

‘Where is your bedroom?’ You asked after a deep breath, looking around in the flat with your hands on your hips. It had a really neat interior, which genuinely surprised you, because Jisoo didn’t always come off as someone organised to you, but if you wanted to be honest, you weren’t even sure whether he lived alone, so what did you know?

‘There,’ he pointed towards the hallway on your right, and you deemed his direction helpful enough to wrap your hands around one of his arms and pull him after you.

As it soon became obvious, the flat was a lot bigger than you had initially assumed - now it made more sense why there were only three front doors on the floor when your apartment complex had twice as many -, but you still managed to find his room on second try, right after you peeked into a room full of boxes and unpainted ceramic.

‘You know…’ Jisoo started as soon as you helped him sit on the edge of his king sized bed and modestly turned your back to him so he could get out of his worn clothes. You let out a soft hum to indicate that you were listening. ‘You and Haeun should come to the group trip with us,’ he said, turning your entire body tense and hot with his claim.

The fact was, you knew Haeun would have liked to go on a vacation with her new besties and would have also loved to see the sea, since she rarely got the opportunity. On the other hand, you couldn’t stop thinking about Jeonghan’s claim which started to sound more and more true to you: Jisoo was a relationship addict. And while you weren’t so self-assured to believe he suddenly wanted you, he had been just dumped.

What was the guarantee that you and your daughter wouldn’t have been the replacement.

‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ you answered honestly, trying not to empathise with the man’s disappointment when a small hum was torn from his throat. Obviously, you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings even more, especially that day, but you were a mom, and you had to put your daughter’s emotional wellbeing first.

You didn’t want her to realise at one point during the trip, or later in life, that she wasn’t the first choice, especially to someone she clearly held dear to her little heart.

‘I’m grateful for the thought, though,’ you made an attempt at lessening the blow, but it could have easily been too late considering how quiet Jisoo became.

To ease some of the tension, you decided to leave his room and look for the kitchen, so you could bring him some cold water and painkillers before you left.

At the end, neither your consideration, nor his gratitude made your goodbyes less awkward. Even though you tried. You both honestly tried.

It might not have been the most healthy way of dealing with the issue, but the two of you never brought up the vacation after that - you didn’t ask him to send slash show you pics of the trip with his friends and he didn’t elaborate on how he had felt or how much fun he had had while being surrounded by a bunch of couples. Would you have liked to know if Jisoo was mentally alright? Yes. You cared about him more than you let him in on. However, you were determined to not bring it up even though the number of texts you sent to each other sky-rocketed after you had taken care of his drunk ass.

If you wanted to be honest, you were surprised that despite the outrageous comments he had made and the discomfort here and there throughout that night hadn’t gotten in the way of your slowly forming friendship. But then again… You weren’t the only one who had gotten closer to the man. Your daughter was very much the same if not worse. After all, unlike you, Haeun formed bonds with many of Jisoo’s friends, including the blond man with whom she picked a fight every damn time they met.

Were the two of you invited to taste-test the new recipes Mingyu had come up with? Jeonghan made a comment on your daughter’s pigtails and how she would become a pig if she ate a piece more, which ended up in a screaming contest. Were you spending your free Saturday in the coffee shop with Jisoo and Haeun who were exchanging their drawings every ten minutes to create something pretty together while having fun? Jeonghan criticised Jisoo’s drawing skills and your daughter just couldn’t let it slide. It was insane, and you didn’t blame Yoohyeon for sitting at a separate table in the corner with her laptop whenever it got out of control. You wished you could have done that, too. 

Anyhow, apart from these extreme interactions, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed spending time with some of the guys and their girlfriends. You even went on a girls night out with Hoyeon, Seola, Sooryeon, Eunseo, Miri and Zhixiao two weeks after their holiday since they wanted to get to know you, “the girl who let Joshua down gently before he could have talked her into getting together with her” to quote from word to word, and your best friend. You thought it was a little rude of them, but Hoyeon was also part of the gang that made bets on their friends’ relationships, so it could have been worse.

‘You don’t want to come anymore?’ Jisoo’s unsure question dragged you back to reality, your unfocused gaze falling on him before you brushed aside the memories that were occupying your mind. ‘We could take a rain check on the studio tour if you rather went home. It was a long day.’

‘Hm?’ Your eyes widened a tad as you were trying to comprehend what he was referring to. A long day… You did have an unusually productive day that Saturday, but nothing you couldn’t handle with two or three cups of green tea or coffee and some sugary goods. ‘No, it’s fine. I already promised Haeun-ah and I’m not that tired anyway.’

Jisoo gave you a onceover, but refrained from making another comment. Instead, he lifted his left hand with your daughter’s princess backpack in it and his right hand, too, that the little girl was holding onto while sipping on her orange juice.

‘We’re good to go then,’ he exclaimed, shaking his hips left and right with a big smile when your daughter did the same, making your heart do a silly little flip due to the adorable sight.

You scolded yourself mentally.

‘Okay, just give me a sec,’ you asked, quickly looking around, then checking your bag to be sure you had everything on you: your id card, phone, charger, powerbank, house keys and of course, your wallet, too. ‘Let’s go!’

On your way to the front doors, you bid your goodbye to everyone who had a shift that day, then followed Jisoo to his car. Since he didn’t have a car seat especially for Haeun, you told him that you would sit in the back with her in your lap, and thanked him when he took your stuff out of your hand, so he could put it along with your daughter’s princess backpack on the passenger’s seat, where they were easier to access.

‘Vroom, vroom,’ Haeun exclaimed happily, mimicking Jisoo turning the steering wheel from the middle of the backseat since it was rare she had the chance to ride a car. You didn’t have one; you used public transportation whenever you weren’t in a rush, which you tried not to be in. You weren’t a big fan of spending extra money on cabs when it wasn’t an emergency.

‘Are you excited, princess?’ At the first red light, Jisoo started a conversation, making you wonder whether he was this good with kids in general or it was only Haeun whom he treated so well. You also wondered whether he was an only child. Did he have any relatives close to your daughter’s age? Would it have been weird to ask so out of the blue?

You pressed your lips together and decided to file it for another time. You didn’t want to cut their conversation about pottery short with your sudden interest in Jisoo’s personal life.

‘I want to make a dinosaur. And a helicopter,’ Haeun exclaimed zealously, her exaggerated hand gestures coming alarmingly close to your face, although you didn’t budge. You simply squeezed her sides gently with your hands, to remind her where she was, pressing your lips to the top of her head to show affection.

‘You can make a dinosaur mug, hm? Helicopter figures are too fragile, sugar,’ you informed her in a small voice as you brushed a stray mop of hair behind her ear, fixing her messy hair a little without redoing her braids.

‘Fridge-aisle? What is that?’ Haeun asked with big, curious eyes. To show you that she really wanted to learn something new that day, she shifted in your lap and turned towards you as much as she could, tilting her head just a tad to the left. ‘Is it like ice-cream?’

Her guess made you smile widely. She might have been pretty far from the truth this time, but it wasn’t the most hilarious one she had ever made. That title went to her drawing of flaming mangos (flamingos) when her class had to illustrate a story that their kindergarten teacher had read them in school. You had it framed in your living room, next to her four-year-old birthday picture.

‘No, it’s not. Fragile means it’s easy to break,’ you corrected her, which made her pout for a couple of seconds like she was trying to picture a fragile helicopter figure in her head.

When she succeeded, she acknowledged your explanation with a nod and a loud: ‘Okay!’

During the rest of the ride, you joined in on their discussion about the best dinosaurs, but let them decide which art styles and eating utensils they preferred and whether they wanted to make matching sets or individual items. It was a surprisingly adult conversation, and you were grateful to Jisoo for not only taking your daughter seriously, but also taking her opinion into account.

A tiny, insignificant voice in your head reminded you that he was treating her the way you wanted to raise her from the get-go, but you quickly shook your head to get the idea out of it just how compatible your approaches were.

‘Get ready for the last turn, princess. We’re about to park the car,’ Jisoo informed the little girl, and you could see him checking on her through the mirror to make sure her arms were in position for the manoeuvre. The whole scene tugged on your heartstrings.

As soon as you got the green light from Jisoo, the two of you got out of the car: you went to grab your bags and your daughter sprinted to the man, who was waiting for her close to the entrance with his hand held out.

‘So… this is my potter studio,’ he let both of you inside the building with his name on it, the keys dingling in his hand as he pointed at one part of the interior after the other.

It was a nice shop, not at all overwhelming despite the professional equipment, pre-made, unpainted ceramic designs, number of paints and brushes one could have chosen from and all that jazz. In fact, at first glance, this place was a lot more organised than the room you had seen at his home.

‘You can both make the plates and mugs yourself or just pick them out from those selves and paint them,’ he explained kindly at the end of the VIP tour that apparently included places regular customers couldn’t see for themselves, such as the room where he baked the clay and his own office with a mini fridge full of fruit juices, soda and snacks.

‘Make, make! I want to make mugs and plates,’ your daughter insisted, jumping up and down excitedly while holding onto Jisoo’s hand. If it had been any other person, except for Seola, you would have felt uncomfortable watching her acting so loud and borderline obnoxious, but at some point, it seemed, you subconsciously accepted the fact that the man didn’t mind her overly-friendly behaviour.

You didn’t notice that a soft smile had made an appearance on your face while you had been watching their adorable duo until Jisoo looked at you from above his shoulder and caught you red handed. You gulped, resisting the urge to bite into your cheek from the inside out of embarrassment.

‘It might take a while,’ he mouthed the words, and it took you a couple of seconds to realise he was talking about the plates and mugs Haeun-ah was insistent on making from scratch. You furrowed your brows, not sure what he meant by it until he specified: ‘Days.’

“Days” meant multiple sessions, which you had to at least try to avoid to ease your heart a little, even though you were aware: now that Haeun knew she had the opportunity to design everything herself, it was almost impossible to talk her out of it.

‘Sugar…’ you walked next to her, tapping her shoulder to gain her attention before you sat on your heels by her side. ‘Making plates and mugs takes a lot of time. You won’t be able to paint on them tonight,’ you started, giving her time to process small parts of the information first instead of overwhelming her with too many details at once.

You pressed your lips together lightly when Jisoo crouched down to her level as well as if he was a part of the conversation despite remaining sile—

‘You will need to wait two or three days, because the plates need to dry first,’ he explained with a patient smile on his face, caressing your daughter’s chubby cheek like she was his or something. What took you aback the most in the unusual sight was Haeun-ah enjoying the gesture so much from someone other than you or your best friend when you had seen her swat away the hand of her aunt Seola’s parents, her warm-hearted homeroom teacher and the neighbourhood ahjumma, too, although the old lady had even offered her some sour candies - her then favourites. ‘Do you think you can wait that much?’

Haeun did that thing when she puckered her lips deep in thought for a couple of seconds, then she nodded firmly, visibly determined to act like how she thought big girls would.

‘I can,’ she exclaimed, and you pressed your lips together, swallowing back objections that you knew rooted in your own insecurities. You didn’t want to impose on Jisoo’s kindness, you didn’t want to rely on someone too much. You didn’t want to get too comfortable around him - or anyone, really - just to realise later in time that he was only a temporary part of your life.

You didn’t notice you lost focus for a second until your daughter pulled on your arm to get your attention.

‘Mom! Can I? Can I? I can,’ she pleaded, making you steal a quick glance at Jisoo who was watching your interaction with twinkles in his eyes. He looked so soft at that moment, just watching your daughter trying to persuade you to bring her back to the studio multiple times, so she could have plates she made from scratch (or well… of clay, but that wasn’t the point).

‘Is it really okay? I can only bring her here after school or on weekends when I’m off work,’ you reminded him, because while you had already submitted your resignation letter, you had to keep working for the cleaning company a month longer.

‘You are always welcomed here after opening hours. Don’t worry about that,’ he reassured you, and a part of you wanted to tell him to take it back: that he shouldn’t have thrown these kinds of promises around like confetti, but wouldn’t that have been weird? If you had gotten so offensive when he was nothing but kind to you and Haeun-ah?

‘Thanks,’ you ended up saying like any normal person without abandonment issues would have done so, then gave in to his nagging and chose a mug for yourself, one from the shelves that was already pre-made and was waiting for someone to paint on it.

Your anxiety didn’t disappear immediately; however, every time you took a glance at your daughter happily swinging her legs back and forth on the chair Jisoo had made her sit, giggling at the weird shapes her mugs and plates took because of her inexperience with clay and pottery eased your nerves a little. At the end, you felt you made the best decision for the little one, and that was all that mattered.

It had been a while since you had let yourself get immersed in something fun and relaxing; as a single mother, your focus had to be on Haeun-ah 24/7 even though the older she grew, the less time she spent with you due to her studies and her slowly growing friend groups and responsibilities. She might have only been six, but your society was obsessed with grades and special talents, thus you encouraged her to hone her skills and pursue her interests regardless of how silly they appeared to be from an adult’s point of view - no matter how worried you were that you put too much on her plate whenever you agreed to sign her up for extra classes.

So the fact that you didn’t notice three hours going by while you were decorating your mug was both shocking and understandable. You had used to draw sketches of people and random interior designs when you had been in high school, hovering over your notebook for hours without a care for the world. You could hyperfixate on the smallest, most insignificant details when you had time. It was just… usually you didn’t have that luxury, at least, not anymore.

‘Woah! I didn’t know you were so good at painting!’ Jisoo’s surprisingly quiet voice pulled you back to the present, the warm drinks in his hands filling the air with the unmistakably sweet scent of chocolate and cinnamon. ‘I made us some hot cocoa and spiced it up with a little bit of rum to fit the occasion,’ he informed you before he nudged you with his feet and urged you to take one of the mugs out of his hands.

‘Oh? So you were serious about the celebration?’ You asked a bit taken aback, but very much touched by the sentiment. Seola had already brought you a cake the day before when she had heard about the job offer you had been more than eager to accept, but Jisoo’s hot cocoa was just as appreciated if not more. After all, he didn’t have any best friend obligations to fulfil - if not some made-up bestie duties to your daughter who still hadn’t given up on claiming the man.

For some reason, the possibility of the latter made you laugh for the first time Jisoo had come into your life. Just putting him in the same group as Haeun’s playmates made you crack up. How absurd it was, really.

‘What’s so funny?’ Jisoo asked with a small smile in the corner of his mouth, his lips painted in a light shade of glossy brown from the hot cocoa. You took a sip from your own drink, then let it warm your numb fingers as you kept the porcelain mug in your hands on your lap.

‘I’m just happy, that’s all,’ you opted for a half-truth, slowly looking around in the interior of the studio. ‘Where is Haeun?’

‘There.’

You snapped your head in Jisoo’s way just to follow the direction his finger was pointing at. Immediately, your eyes landed on a pile of blankets in one corner of the couch near the counter where Jisoo kept the cash register and some documents that helped him identify which half-finished or finished product belonged to which customer.

‘She fell asleep while I put away her mugs. She wanted to make some matching plates, too, but by the time I prepared everything for her, she was out on the chair,’ he explained, your brain easily filling in the holes: him carrying her to the couch, which was undoubtedly the most comfortable-looking furniture in his studio, covering her with blankets and cleaning up after her at the professional table with the pedals and all.

You turned back towards him and shot a grateful smile at him, completely at loss of words. He hadn’t had to, but he had taken care of your daughter on your behalf anyway just so you could have painted in peace. That was something… something Inwoo would have done for you in many of your dreams when you had still held onto the picture of your happy family. Something that a significant other would have done, cherishing Haeun and you equally as if you had always been his.

‘Do you think she would feel left out if we celebrated without her? I made some hot cocoa for her, too - without the rum, of course -, but I didn’t have the heart to wake her,’ Jisoo inquired, and you just shook your head.

‘We can always celebrate with her another time. Let her sleep,’ you decided and lifted your mug for a toast despite how ridiculous it looked. ‘I will buy us samgyeopsal from my first salary. How about that?’ You asked, clinking your mug to his like you had just made a vow, then took a big sip from the drink.

The hot cocoa tasted sweet on your tongue, the rum burning your throat briefly yet pleasantly once the lingering mix of chocolate and cinnamon started to fade. It was perfectly made, and you couldn’t have helped but tease him whether he had taken a bartender course in the past to charm girls.

‘So what if I did?’ He asked back, playful. ‘Is it working?’

‘Isn’t that something you should know better?’ Your chuckle filled the room, the mug slowly yet steadily getting empty in your hand. It wasn’t that hot anymore, but it still brought warmth to you as you clung onto the porcelain.

‘It’s a secret, but…’ he leaned closer to you as though he was really about to spill the beans about something no one knew about. Instinctively, you leaned closer to him as well to meet him halfway, eager to hear the juicy details. ‘I���m not that good at reading the signs.’

You furrowed your brows and pulled away, so you could take a better look at Jisoo’s face. You weren’t sure just how serious he could be until your eyes finally met; then, staring at him with your lips partially ajar, you failed to contain your amusement.

He was serious.

‘Silly,’ you said as you got rid of the tears brimming in the corners of your eyes with the back of your hand. ‘That’s not a secret. Everyone knows that,’ you corrected him and acting on the sudden urge, you reached out with your empty hand and took his jaw between your fingers. The way you fondled his chin with your thumb was gentle, like you were trying to make up for your straightforward words with affection.

Unconsciously, a part of you might have wanted to do just that. Gentle touches, encouraging words, warm smiles, mutual vulnerability out in the open. Throughout the rest of the night, you shared stories with Jisoo that helped him feel less like a failure just because the rest of his friend group was more forward in life (from a conservative point of view), even the youngest ones like Chan and Seungkwan. At a weak moment, you even told him about Inwoo and his wife who had an adorable little boy together as far as you were concerned. You were happy for him, and for some odd reason, Jisoo called you strong for sounding so sincere.

‘I always feel bitter when I see my exes with other people. Especially when they are happy,’ Jisoo confessed and you hugged him to show your support, to show him that you didn’t think he was a bad person for being hurt and acting on those bitter feelings from time to time.

‘It’s okay to be hurt,’ you mumbled against his chest, patting his shoulder blade rhythmically to emphasise how much you meant every word.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in each other’s embrace, then finished your fifth or sixth mugs of hot cocoa while sharing less emotionally loaded and more lighthearted stories with each other. It was a celebration after all.

A night that you knew would be hard to forget or ignore in the near future yet couldn’t regret anyway.

Days started to feel longer towards the second part of your notice period, although you knew that scientifically nothing had changed; each one of them consisted of twenty-four hours out of which you usually slept six or seven thanks to your daughter having an early curfew. Thus, you shouldn’t have felt as drained as you were when you showed up at Coffee Carat with Haeun on your next free Saturday. On the contrary, your body should have been overflowing with energy since your daughter had been nice enough to let you sleep in instead of asking you to prepare her breakfast first thing in the morning or demanding your attention simply because she had no one to play with.

So why were you dragging your feet one after the other like even something as mundane as walking took a lot out of you?

Maybe because your current manager was a real pain in the ass who took it upon himself to teach you one last lesson before your departure.

‘Mom! There, there!’ Haeun pointed at a random table close to the huge coffee bean sticker, where Jisoo and his friends were munching on sweet treats and talking about something that clearly divided the group. Unlike most of the time when Jeonghan was present, his girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

‘Calm down, sugar. Let’s order something first, okay?’ You squeezed her hand gently to help her focus on you, giving time for the guys to notice your arrival and also for your daughter to take a few breathers. The last thing you wanted was Haeun to pounce at them when they were clearly having a heated conversation. That would have done nothing good.

‘Oh…’ The pout that appeared on your daughter’s face was momentarily because as soon as her eyes landed on the chocolate balls dragon behind the glass display her chin quite literally dropped on the floor, her excited squeal filling the interior. ‘Mingyu oppa did it! He really did it! See?’ She pointed at the fun-looking dessert, rambling about how she had drawn a whole magical zoo for the baker during one of your last minute job interviews and how this dessert’s name was Yong-yong.

‘Hello there, little one. What can I get for you today?’ Seokmin asked with his trademark smile that did not waver, not even a little bit, when Haeun-ah started to tell him about her drawings and excitement to taste the most delicious-looking dragon princess she had ever seen. Was her statement a little alarming? Absolutely. But you supposed, she was old enough to tell non-existing animals from an actual cake, so it wasn’t like she wanted to eat a pet or a good old friend from her fairytale books.

‘I’ll have an iced cappuccino and please, some apple juice for Haeun,’ you added, immensely grateful that instead of jumping on the opportunity to turn his back on the two of you, the barista entertained your daughter with questions like which fantasy animal she would have liked to see in the coffee shop next time and whether princess Yong-yong was big enough in her opinion.

It took some time and some overly detailed answers from your overhyped chipmunk, but eventually you got your tray with your orders and were able to look for empty chairs in the customer area. Since you couldn’t be sure that the boys had come to an agreement or were still talking about something passionately, you would have preferred to have your own table near them, but of course, as soon as Haeun’s eyes landed on Jisoo’s open arms, she couldn’t stay still. She ran to him like he was her world.

You followed her slowly with slightly burning cheeks and greeted the others with a small smile, not sure whether it was okay if you took one of the empty chairs or you should have found a table to put your tray on.

‘Why are you just standing there? If you wanted to sit next to Joshua, you should have been faster, like the little gremlin,’ Jeonghan said with that shiteating grin on his face he somehow didn’t seem to know how to contain unless his girlfriend was giving him the silent treatment. Then, he was quick to be on his best behaviour. ‘Come on! Sit,’ he pulled an empty chair out for you across from Jisoo and your daughter at the same moment the little one pointed her tiny finger at the blond man and screamed:

‘Bad word!’ 

From the top of her lungs.

‘Sugar, we’ve already talked about screaming at people,’ you reminded her, not scolding her for what she had said, but rather for how she had said it.

‘You don’t even know what gremlin means,’ Jeonghan challenged Haeun, once again making you want to contact Yoohyeon to collect her man, although that would have been childish and you seriously should have been able to handle their bickering. It wasn’t that much different from fights on the playground.

‘You said so it’s bad. I’m Haeun. Kim Haeun,’ she explained her logic, making everyone else around the table chuckle and laugh at her reasoning.

‘Jeonghan. I’ve already told you, stop bullying her,’ Jisoo warned his best friend, earning a big smile from your daughter who sneakily darted her tongue out at Jeonghan when she thought no one was watching. Well, you obviously had your eyes on her and so had the blond man who mimicked the gesture without any hesitation.

Children.

‘Oppa!’ Haeun spoke up a moment after the momentary peace had settled as she pulled a chocolate ball off the almond-and-chocolate-coated pepero stick that served as the dragon’s spine. Jisoo let out a hum to make her aware that he was listening. ‘There will be a car day in school next Friday. Everyone’s mom and dad will come and tell stories about their job,’ she chatted, swinging her legs back and forth while sitting on Jisoo’s lap.

‘A Career Day? Sounds fun. Are you excited?’ Their conversation kept going on like none of you others had been sitting by the same table, but you didn’t mind it that much anymore, not since the night Jisoo had shown you his pottery studio (Haeun’s mugs and plates were already painted, so you were one meet-up from taking everything home). 

‘Yeah, so fun. But mom’s not coming,’ she said flatly, chewing on a chocolate ball in one minute and offering another one to Jisoo in another.

Your cheeks were burning, for a different reason this time: guilt. It wasn’t like you didn’t care about the Career Day at her school. In fact, you had been just as excited about it as she had been when she had first mentioned it to you, but unfortunately, your manager had refused to let you take off that day as part of the lesson he tried to teach you. You swallowed back a disappointed sigh and took a sip from your drink. It couldn’t have been helped.

‘Mom must be really sorry that she can’t make it, princess,’ Jisoo brushed a mop of hair out of Haeun’s face, then accepted a second chocolate ball from your daughter before he pointed at you and nudged the little girl’s shoulder.

Apparently this was the encouragement your daughter needed to share her snack with you, too. You accepted the dessert with a grateful smile that was dedicated more to Jisoo than her even if you would have never said that out loud. Especially not while you were sitting at the same table with Yoon Jeonghan.

You could already hear the guys whispering about how none of them would have thought that Joshua was such a dad(dy) material until you two had come into their lives. You had never been so grateful that Haeun still had a limited vocabulary and was as innocent as one could be at her age. Why would any of them have thought it was a good idea to joke about daddies around a little girl with no father figure in her life was seriously beyond you.

‘Oppa!’ Haeun exclaimed between two bites, letting Jisoo make her drink some of her apple juice as well before she blurted out with the biggest doe eyes: ‘Will you come to the car day like other dads do?’ 

The tension that followed could have been cut with a butter knife.

You didn’t realise you were sweating or that you started to breath heavily after her question; you honestly didn’t even notice the worried looks everyone at the table was giving you until Jeonghan put his hand on your shoulder and you snapped. You got up from the chair like it was burning you and excused yourself hastily before you rushed towards the double doors. There was no way your daughter was asking Jisoo to show up at the school Career Day like other fathers did. Your brain was making things up.

You needed some fresh air.

Later, when you would think back at this incident, you might have thought you were a little bit of a drama queen and unreasonable - since you stormed out of the building, leaving your daughter behind albeit in good hands -, but at that moment your focus was solely on getting as far away from the situation as possible. You had to think and you couldn’t do that in front of so many of Jisoo’s friends and your daughter who was literally beaming at Jisoo, hoping for an affirmative answer. When had you given her the impression that he was her father? When the hell had you made her believe that Jisoo could…

Why did she feel the need to have a second parent? And why hadn’t you realised that she had started to think more into her “friendship” with Jisoo than what it was? Did she want to have a dad so much? Had anyone made her feel like she had to have a dad to fit into your society?

You groaned, stressed. You had to go back and explain to her that she couldn’t have just claimed someone as her dad just because other children in her class had both a mother and a father. Maybe, it was time for you to tell her about her biological dad. God. You were so not ready for THE talk. It was decades too soon.

Centuries.

Okay, most likely just a couple of years, but still. You were a little out of it.

You flinched when someone touched your shoulder out of the blue. No warning. No soothing words. Nada.

Or maybe you just weren’t listening.

‘Hey, are you okay? What happened?’ Jisoo’s worried voice reached you through the fog, his caring attitude overwhelming all of a sudden. He shouldn’t have come after you, it wasn’t like it was his duty to check on you. The only person he might have had some responsibilities towards was your daughter and even that was a stretch in your mind on your darkest days.

You took a step further from him to distance yourself from his… him. However, Jisoo either didn’t catch on to your distress or genuinely believed that his closeness was that one thing you needed to get back to normal because the next thing you knew he was caressing your back with gentle strokes: up and down, up and down.

‘Talk to me,’ he coaxed you, which would have made your heart flutter in any other situation, but only added to your anxiety at that moment. He was doing it again: acting like Haeun and you were a package deal, like you were supposed to matter to him the same way Haeun did just because he had let your daughter claim him as her best friend. And the worst thing was that you just knew your ever so curious daughter could have been watching.

Jisoo was playing into her fantasy of a complete family, and you wanted to scream. 

‘You can tell me. We can work it out,’ Jisoo tried to reassure you when all you had got was your heavy breathing and even heavier silence.

You looked up at him with angry tears in your eyes and brushed his hand off you.

‘Give me a fucking minute,’ you snapped at him.

The shocked look in his chocolate brown eyes that slowly morphed into hurt filled you with guilt. You shouldn’t have said it like that. You should have had more patience with both him and this whole career day topic. It couldn’t have been healthy: the way you reacted to Haeun asking him to show up in school for her like other fathers did.

‘She… she wants you to be her dad,’ you croaked out eventually, when you mustered up the courage to look up at Jisoo and he was still there, waiting for you to come around patiently like you hadn’t just screamed his head off for caring about you.

You crouched down, too unstable to stand even a moment longer. You wished the street had been a little wider, so Jisoo’s friend could have placed some smaller tables in front of the shop, too, not just inside. You also wished that there were less people giving you the side eye when you leaned your back against Coffee Carat’s wall. Their judging didn’t help at all. 

Albeit with a visible distance between the two of you, Jisoo sat on the dirty street at an arm’s length from you and leaned against the shop in a similar way you did. You swallowed down the knot in your throat.

‘She just wants someone to be there for her, too. She didn’t say she wants me to be her dad,’ he corrected you, and before you could have opened your mouth and object, he let out a soft huff and cut you off by adding. ‘Look. I know you think I’m a relationship addict who can’t go a day without being with someone, but… I’m not playing with your daughter’s feelings, or with yours for that matter. It felt nice when she asked me to come since you can’t make it, but I will say no if that’s where your boundaries lie.’

You sucked in your lower lip and observed his face. He looked sincere; he sounded sincere. And a part of you was tempted to ask him to prove to you how much his words were really worth by rejecting your daughter. However, the thought of deliberately sabotaging your baby tugged on your insides in an awful way. You were awful - a selfish mother who was about to steal some of the wonders from her own child’s life because of her fears and insecurities. 

But weren’t you allowed to feel how you were feeling? Did you have to put Haeun-ah first all the time to be perceived as a good parent?

‘I just…’ you tapped the sensitive skin under your eyes with your thenar and looked upwards to prevent the unwanted tears from falling. You were a mess in public already, the idea of sinking even lower wasn’t a pleasant one. ‘I don’t want her to think that our family isn’t a good family without a dad.’

There it was, out in the open. Goodness, you could already hear the lecturing in your head how every good family, every healthy family needed both a father and a mother. How it was natural that your daughter was seeking a second parental figure, because that was how things should have been from the get-go. Your parents had made sure these words had been burnt into your very existence before you mutually cut ties with each other. Sometimes you wished, wishing hard enough could have made this universal truth untrue.

You pressed your palms against your ears and let your chin fall on your pulled up kneecaps. Just because you knew it was coming didn’t mean you had to like the scolding.

‘I don’t think you have to worry about that,’ Jisoo started, his voice having a tentative edge to it with a good reason. It was a sensitive topic, and you appreciated that he handled it like one. ‘On the other hand, I wouldn’t call your family small though. Sure, you’re a single mom, but whenever Haeun talks about her family, she talks about her aunt Seola, too. Three people is pretty normal sized to me,’ he shot an encouraging smile in your way, and those unsaid words he might have been too afraid to say out loud after your breakdown were obvious. Haeun had him, too, now, whether you labelled him as a dad, an uncle or an oppa - whether you liked it or not.

You looked up to the sky and took a deep breath. You couldn’t decide whether it would have been appropriate to laugh aloud at that moment, but you did it anyway. Your reality started to resemble a 50-episode-long tv drama and you just couldn’t keep up with the daily updates. 

‘God. How is this real? We’re practically strangers,’ you groaned, unsure if you really had the right to put so much responsibility on Jisoo’s shoulders when he had no obligations towards you and your daughter.

He had shown up in your life so out of the blue, so randomly, what had made him so different from anybody else in Seoul?

‘In that… I will take full offence. I thought we were closer than that. After all, I know about the baby daddy despite the NDA,’ he leaned a little closer to you, so he was able to push you gently by your upper arm. That, once again, made you giggle. He was right, you didn’t share so much about your past with just anyone, but still. A part of you couldn’t let go of the idea that he didn’t have any ties to you - not like how your parents had had before they had given up on you. Not like how Inwoo had had before he had had to walk out of your life.

What was the guarantee that someone who wasn’t bound to your family by blood and didn’t share a decade of friendship with you would stick with your duo through thick and thin when none of the aforementioned people had done? People who should have stood by your side in spite of the obstacles life threw your way.

‘I’m sorry, I…’ you closed your eyes and shook your head before you buried your face in your hands. You felt so many things in that moment it couldn’t have been healthy. ‘My thoughts aren’t making too much sense right now. I’m just…’

‘You’re afraid Haeun will lose another father figure if I cross that line and show up at the Career Day in her school,’ he finished the sentence on your behalf when words failed you. Your lips trembled when you sneaked a glance at him.

Jisoo wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at his hands on his lap.

‘I’m so sorry,’ you choked on your apology, feeling those unshed tears - you had tried to hold back so desperately - running down your rose-tinted cheeks.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, but you shook your head. ‘No, it really is. You don’t have to apologise for wanting to protect her from future disappointments. Nor should you feel sorry for shielding yourself from potential heartbreak. I understand,’ he reached out, searching for any kind of rejection in your eyes before he touched your head and ruffled your hair.

The sudden change in your conversation reminded you of the night when you had picked him up at that bar, right after he had been dumped by his then girlfriend. Looking in Jisoo’s eyes, you didn’t doubt, not even for a second, that he truly understood a part of your biggest fears and insecurities.

You might have been two sides of the same coin, but that didn’t take away from how, in your core, you were the same: people with an unhealthy perception of relationships.

Funny how it took you almost seven years and a man who had willingly become your little girl’s friend to realise it for the first time in your life: albeit loving your baby girl with your whole heart, you weren’t exactly fine.

You weren’t okay. You weren’t mentally fine.

You might not have seeked professional help for your mental health issues immediately as it was hard to convince yourself that you had the spare money for such expenses, but you started to pay more attention to your emotional needs after a long and heavy conversation with your best friend while Haeun was at school. It wasn’t easy. Some days you felt extremely selfish for wanting to have any kind of relationship with Jisoo without including your daughter. Some days you got anxious as soon as Haeun found other people to talk to and let the two of you be. Regardless, you didn’t try to shut him out anymore. Instead, you let yourself feel - both the good and the bad.

You believed that it was a baby step in the right direction when after a long afternoon out with your daughter’s closest friends from school, you allowed Haeun-ah to invite her aunt Seola and Jisoo oppa over for a movie night on her birthday. The three of you easily agreed to let the birthday girl choose what you would watch - even if she had the tendency to re-watch the same two movies for months when she liked them - and in exchange, she let you order the food like you would have gone for anything else but her favourite that day. No one was too surprised when you ended up watching Encanto, during which you weren’t supposed to fall asleep - yet you did.

And that was how your innocent movie night turned into an impromptu sleepover without you noticing. Not that the second part should have shocked you that much. You had been so drained from all the excitement of the afternoon that you failed to wake up for Jisoo carrying you from the couch to your own bed despite the struggles he must have gone through. You weren’t overweight per se, but you wouldn’t have called sixty kilograms light, either.

After all, personally, you couldn’t carry six kilos of groceries home from the neighbourhood market without risking muscle pain.

In the morning, you woke up with a start for a loud crash that reminded you of part-time jobs at 3AM and sleep-deprived kitchen shenanigans with a newborn baby. Your heart was beating like crazy, and your body got tense on automatic as you sat up in your bed, self-destructively uncoordinated. It was a miracle you hadn’t fallen off the furniture, considering how close you were to its edge.

‘What th…’ you mumbled under your nose, trying to decipher your surroundings and rubbing the remnants of sleep out of your eyes. Once the fog cleared up in your mind, you were able to recall Mirabel’s first encounter with her uncle, Bruno; you could remember your daughter singing along with her favourite characters; you could feel the phantom weight of your best friend’s head on your shoulder, but none made you wiser about the rest of the night.

Or the noises that were coming from the kitchen.

To get your answers for the latter, you needed to get out of bed.

Suppressing a yawn solely because you were too used to concealing your tiredness at home, you stretched your body and grabbed your cosy, light-brown cardigan from your chair, so you would have felt more comfortable in your skin so early into the day. If you had had the time, you would have preferred to wash your face, brush your hair and teeth, too, before presenting yourself to whoever was making a mess in your kitchen; however, as soon as you recognised your daughter’s panicky voice, you knew you couldn’t let yourself be vain. Haeun-ah clearly needed you, whether you were freshly washed or not.

‘It’s okay, princess. Nothing bad happened, we can clean it up and redo it. We still have so much time,’ Jisoo’s gentle voice reached your ears before you reached the kitchen, your steps slowly coming to a halt before you could have made yourself visible. You didn’t have to be a genius to realise they were making something for breakfast for you, hence your presence would have ruined their surprise.

‘He’s good with her. Aaand, he is handsome,’ your best friend whispered into your ear, her light-hearted giggles managing to relax your tense shoulders despite how eye roll-worthy and unnecessary her observation was. You knew Jisoo was amazing with Haeun; you should also have been blind to not see how appealing he looked.

You let out a resigned sigh.

‘Neither of us is ready for a relationship, and you know it.’ You were pretty sure that you had complained about Jisoo’s unhealthy need to be in a relationship and your own fears of losing him frequently enough during your girly chit-chats for Seola to not forget it. But last night had been the first time she had met him, so you could understand her reaction. If you hadn’t been a single mother with responsibilities, you would have also been tempted to turn a blind eye to your mental health problems in order to pursue a relationship with him.

However, a relationship with you didn’t mean only two people anymore. It would have been the three of you for the rest of your lives, and you had to protect Haeun-ah from developing abandonment issues. You couldn’t jump into a relationship until you weren’t ready.

‘Well, it doesn’t have to happen now. Duh,’ Seola argued, successfully shutting you up before she nudged you with her elbow, encouraging you to eavesdrop on the conversation that was playing out in the kitchen.

And so you leaned your forehead against the wall and listened to Jisoo as he was drying up your daughter’s crocodile tears, promising her to help her re-decorate your pancakes once he cleaned up the broken pieces on the floor. It was lovely: the man’s endless patience with the little girl and seemingly endless energy when it came to matching her vibe.

You got so immersed in their interaction that you had almost forgotten to sneak back into your bedroom where you fake-slept, so Haeun and Seola could wake you up. Luckily, you had a best friend who not only reminded you of their surprise, but also teased the hell out of you because of that wide smile that had formed on your lips without meaning to.

You were happy. You might have been still afraid to admit it out loud, but one look at your face told it all - at least, according to Seola. You could picture a life in which you woke up to these two making a mess in your kitchen with the best intention in their hearts, and not only that. You wanted to live that life so desperately it was unreal.

Except, with enough determination and constant effort on all three of your parts, you might have been able to become a family one day. If Jisoo had still wanted to give it a try then: to family vacations, to movie nights, to you and him, to the long run. You would have said yes.

A thousand times yes.

➼ extra topping

[beombunni]

A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock.  “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words. 

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you. 

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.” 

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father. 

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.” 

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” 

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips. 

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out. 

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it. 

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were. 

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful. 

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before. 

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip. 

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?” 

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough. 

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out. 

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess. 

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you. 

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was. 

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.” 

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.” 

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you. 

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?” 

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.” 

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight. 

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal. 

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all. 

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak. 

​​“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole. 

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.” 

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he? 

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties. 

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.” 

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot. 

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow. 

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders. 

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?” 

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.” 

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical. 

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.” 

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.” 

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?” 

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.” 

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words. 

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable. 

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.” 

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”  

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter. 

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you. 

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul. 

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. 

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you. 

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip. 

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient. 

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.” 

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done. 

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.” 

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here. 

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean. 

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.” 

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists. 

“Do you understand?” your father demands. 

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head. 

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless. 

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right. 

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart. 

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again. 

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head. 

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin. 

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint. 

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right? 

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—” 

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.” 

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money. 

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter. 

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods. 

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again. 

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her. 

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs. 

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun. 

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.” 

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.” 

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour. 

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes. 

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly. 

​​Kai’s  face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—” 

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold. 

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by. 

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.” 

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”  

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor. 

It was her hair.

Pink. 

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own. 

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool. 

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was. 

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black. 

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her. 

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger. 

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—” 

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

​​Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family. 

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute. 

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.” 

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way. 

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.” 

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play. 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it. 

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?” 

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye. 

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened. 

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. 

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.  

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered. 

And you’re reckless,” he shot back. 

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?” 

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question. 

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit. 

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart. 

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars. 

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun. 

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth. 

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again. 

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.” 

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?” 

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do. 

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” 

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you. 

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.” 

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation. 

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin. 

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside. 

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly. 

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally. 

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—” 

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.” 

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.” 

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair. 

“I’m not scared,” he shot back. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.” 

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me. 

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.” 

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him. 

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go. 

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.” 

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again. 

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.” 

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.” 

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.” 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you. 

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.” 

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.” 

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him. 

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence. 

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.” 

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?” 

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.” 

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.” 

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.” 

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time. 

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.” 

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.” 

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly. 

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.” 

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it. 

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?” 

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. 

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer. 

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you. 

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it. 

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire. 

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. 

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.” 

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace. 

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. 

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out. 

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. 

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again. 

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you. 

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.” 

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy. 

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff. 

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.” 

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss. 

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair. 

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment. 

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.” 

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses. 

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back. 

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons. 

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable. 

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away. 

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-” 

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly. 

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” 

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile. 

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing. 

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured. 

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy. 

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?” 

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that. 

“Use your words sweetheart.” 

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch. 

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape. 

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath. 

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..” 

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you. 

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance. 

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding. 

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes” 

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you. 

“My god.” You whispered. 

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand. 

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips. 

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless. 

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze. 

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. 

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you. 

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine. 

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving. 

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.” 

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain. 

“No. Please move.” 

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out. 

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely. 

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.” 

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.” 

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you. 

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub. 

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face. 

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train. 

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge. 

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling. 

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you. 

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment. 

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.” 

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.” 

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening. 

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed.  “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.” 

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief. 

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.” 

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?” 

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.” 

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?” 

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” 

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.” 

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.” 

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it. 

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real? 

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door. 

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?” 

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.” 

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—” 

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—” 

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm. 

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.” 

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.” 

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. 

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him. 

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.” 

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?” 

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.” 

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?” 

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?” 

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers. 

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.” 

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained. 

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.” 

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin. 

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell. 

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.” 

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest. 

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game. 

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only. 

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words. 

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty. 

Yeonjun.” 

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back. 

“Yeonjun, 

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.  

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun. 

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened. 

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him. 

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure. 

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again. 

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax." 

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied. 

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this." 

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again. 

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill. 

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised. 

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it. 

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession. 

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai. 

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?" 

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it. 

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—" 

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it." 

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered. 

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want." 

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise." 

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.” 

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary. 

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was. 

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face. 

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want." 

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free." 

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will." 

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of." 

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think." 

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. 

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it. 

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours. 

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters. 

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered. 

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance. 

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could. 

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm. 

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up. 

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips. 

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother. 

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known." 

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you. 

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking. 

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise." 

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother. 

"I love you," you whispered. 

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know." 

​​You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist. 

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all." 

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried." 

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been. 

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how." 

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully. 

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them. 

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. 

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately. 

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world." 

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.” 

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart. 

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” 

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them." 

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else." 

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted." 

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest. 

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. 

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest. 

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of  The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.” 

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear. 

Her marriage announcement. 

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one. 

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin. 

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears. 

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it. 

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was. 

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table ​. Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him. 

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation. 

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude. 

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner. 

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her. 

Kang Taehyun. 

The one she was supposed to marry. 

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil. 

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her? 

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now." 

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him. 

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough. 

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—" 

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him." 

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast. 

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world." 

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide." 

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of. 

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do." 

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." 

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you. 

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone." 

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. 

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope. 

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together." 

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure. 

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. 

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake. 

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand. 

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed. 

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all. 

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning. 

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked. 

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control. 

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?” 

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.” 

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow. 

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him. 

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” 

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai. 

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy. 

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold. 

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon. 

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him. 

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward. 

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined. 

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. 

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor. 

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent. 

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.” 

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.” 

“But-” 

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob. 

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest. 

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.” 

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.” 

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.” 

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was. 

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses. 

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor. 

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered. 

His breath caught. It was her. 

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look. 

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.” 

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists. 

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.” 

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.” 

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.” 

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn. 

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—” 

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion. 

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness. 

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried. 

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.” 

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.” 

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” 

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.” 

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief. 

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days. 

Yeonjun.” 

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.” 

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.” 

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.” 

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” 

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

[jinhyun]

—sugar rush.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: angst, fluff, pining, non-idol au, best friend’s brother au

word count: 7.4k

summary: hyunjin’s heart had been broken by you more than once, and still, he refused to let you go through your own heartbreak alone.

warnings: many mentions of heartbreak, break up, breakdown, and a small mention of weight loss (because of heartbreak).

author’s note: she’s here! tbh i didn’t plan for it to be this long, i wanted to lightly mention hyunjin’s past heartbreaks but once i started writing i couldn’t stop lol. i hope this gives you guys some more insight on their story and feelings. if anyone casually comes across this one shot, it is part four of my social media au “heart out”. i hope you all enjoy! don’t forget to reblog and/or leave a comment if you do<3

The first time Hyunjin saw you, he was only seventeen.

Yeji was in her second year of university and was still living at their family home. She would often tell them about her best friend she made back in first year, and she must’ve shown them one or two pictures at some point, yet for some reason Hyunjin never really got interested enough to actually pay attention — being too busy trying to achieve good grades in the classes he was struggling with the most. After all, after that year he would only have one more to make it to a good university and live up to his parents’ expectations, since his older sister had made it to one of the best universities in Seoul and they were expecting just the same from him.

So, when Yeji called their mother one day and asked if her best friend could stay with them that weekend since she wasn’t from Seoul and was having a few issues with her dorm, Hyunjin didn’t think much of it. If anything, he had rolled his eyes over the thought of having to hide in his room and not being able to raid the kitchen whenever he wanted, not to run into his sister’s stranger friend.

But then you crossed the door later that night, with a shy smile curving up your lips as you introduced yourself to all three of them and thanked them for allowing you to stay the weekend, and suddenly he felt like wanting to raid the kitchen every five minutes that weekend, just in hopes of running into you and getting a glimpse of your face.

One look at you was all it took for him to get the biggest crush on someone yet, and one single weekend into meeting you was all it took for him to know that the immediate infatuation he felt towards you would only grow from then on.

Now, being only three months away from turning twenty four, he could only give his seventeen year old self a pat on the shoulder because of how well he had judged the future of his feelings for you. That, and to comfort his younger self as well, because, God, nothing could have prepared him for what was about to come his way.

Six years had passed in the blink of an eye since then, and here he was, still loving you from the sidelines.

And in those six years of loving you, he had experienced heartbreak three times. All three of them, by you.

You, who didn’t even know he had feelings for you.

You, who didn’t see him as anything other than Yeji’s little brother — not to say your little brother.

You, who had grown closer to him at one point, only to pull away when you fell for someone else.

Hyunjin wasn’t stupid, he knew how the world and feelings worked. He knew a twenty year old wouldn’t fall for a seventeen year old who was in his second to last year of high school — at least not a sane one, and you were very much sane, he found out right away.

Then again, although not stupid, he was still naive. Which is why he believed everything would change when he turned nineteen and became legal.

He spent his last two years of high school focusing on his studies, not even looking at his classmates or at any other girl at school.

He would only see you from time to time, whenever Yeji invited you over, which wasn’t that often given the two of you would much rather hang out alone at your dorm. Most of the news he got from you were because he asked Yeji about you, or, if he was lucky enough, because his parents asked about you when he just happened to be there.

He would also often find himself going through your social media in hopes of you having posted a picture that showed your face. And, sometimes, he would be brave enough to comment on your posts — just casual little comments that would leave him smiling for the rest of the day whenever you replied.

You didn’t interact much back then, and he was okay with it. Granted, he wished you talked more, and he really fucking wished he got to see you more often, but he could deal with it, because once he entered university and turned nineteen, everything would change.

But then, by the time he was nineteen, you were about to turn twenty two. He was only starting university, and you were already in your last year of it.

He refused to let go of the small pinch of hope he still had in him, however. He had made it to your and Yeji’s university, after all, and although he didn’t choose your same career path, he would use being in the same campus to his advantage.

He started by asking for your help regarding small assignments. Whether they were actually hard or easy as hell, risking looking dumb to you, he would reach out and ask for your help. Getting a simple explanation that wouldn’t take you longer than two minutes would make his entire day. You never judged him when it came to ‘dumb questions’, and sometimes, if he was lucky enough and you had some time in your hands, you would take him for coffee — the intention being to properly help him out with his assignments, yet most of the time it would turn out in the two of you just hanging out and having a good time together.

Then, deciding the few times you got to hang out at a café weren’t enough, Hyunjin became more straightforward. He realised there were days you would stay at the library while Yeji went home, as she found studying at home to be more productive, unlike you, and it so conveniently aligned with the days his schedule ended the latest. He used to despise that one last class with a passion, until he found out you were at campus alone by then. So, he took it upon himself to text you as soon as the class ended, asking if you were done and offering to walk you to your dorm.

At first you hesitated, not wanting to take up even more of his commute time, since you lived on campus and he didn’t, but after a couple of times it became your thing, to the point Hyunjin wouldn’t even text you beforehand anymore and would straight up head over to the library; whether to pick you up as you were already placing your books inside your bag, or to sit down next to you and do whatever —mainly staring at you without you noticing— while he waited for you to be done.

Sometimes he would have lunch with you and Yeji. It wasn’t very usual, since he did have his own group of friends, but there were times when he felt like spending some extra time with you, and his sister being there was a good excuse to do so without seeming too clingy.

Some days you would text back and forth. Some others you would text him something that reminded you of him and vice versa. And some others you wouldn’t text at all, but he would find a way to see you.

Before he knew it, Hyunjin grew used to talking to you every single day. And he was okay with it, because by then it had already become natural and you seemed to enjoy his company just as much as he enjoyed yours.

He didn’t get into the same university as you and Yeji just to be with you, of course, but fuck, was he over the moon now that he had multiple excuses to hang out with you.

He wanted to believe that you were at least beginning to move past the innocent image you had of him — the one of him being Yeji’s little brother, and therefore needing protection. He made himself believe that deep down you were starting to feel something for him, even if you didn’t notice. And he was willing to make you notice.

But then the second semester came, and halfway through it he felt you slip away.

Hyunjin didn’t know when or why you stopped hanging out, but he hardly got to see you anymore.

He didn’t think much of it at first. Your schedules were very different now, and he thought that was the reason. You were on your last semester and your times just didn’t coincide like they used to. Simple as that.

You still helped him out whenever he came to you with questions regarding one of his classes, you still smiled ever so sweetly whenever you saw him, you still reached out to check up on him.

But you wouldn’t wait for him to walk you home anymore, and you wouldn’t really text that much either — your conversations going from texting each other the most random of things throughout the day, to you only answering his questions regarding his classes, which, to be honest, were only Hyunjin’s miserable attempts to initiate small talk. You just didn’t seem to check your chats anymore, which he found to be quite odd considering that, whenever he saw you, you would be staring at your phone with the biggest of smiles as you typed away.

It wasn’t until Yeji slipped up one evening, when their parents asked about you at dinner, that he found out the reason behind your sudden distance from him and the giddy smiles you’d get by looking at your phone.

“I haven’t seen Y/N around in a while,” their mother brought up. “How’s she been?”

“Oh, she’s doing well. Just… a bit busy, I guess” Yeji replied, taking a small bite of her food.

“You should invite her over for dinner this weekend” their dad proposed this time. “We were thinking of having a barbecue”.

“I think she’s going out with Mingyu on Saturday” Yeji tilted her head, pensively — completely oblivious to the way Hyunjin had just frozen next to her. “Maybe she could come over on Sunday for lunch? I need to hear all the details about her date after all”.

Clunk!

Everyone turned to Hyunjin, who remained frozen still, yet the metal spoon he had previously been holding in his hand was now laying on the floor, having slipped from his fingers the moment the word ‘date’ had made it past Yeji’s lips.

He quickly picked it up and placed it back on the table. Everyone went back to their previous conversation, like nothing happened. Like his heart didn’t feel like every single inch of it was being pierced right through.

You were seeing someone.

He was in love with you. He was finally of age and somewhat in the same stage in life as you. He was doing everything in his power to get closer to you and eventually win you over.

And you were seeing someone.

That night, Hyunjin went to sleep with a heavy chest and a buzzing head. Unable to understand why it hurt so much and why it wouldn’t go away.

It was later that month, on new year’s eve more specifically, that he finally knew what the heavy chest and the annoying pinch in his heart were hinting at.

“Y/N isn’t coming this year?” He asked his sister when he finally got the courage to, impatiently staring at the clock on the kitchen wall that pointed at the numbers 22:56.

“Oh my God, no, I forgot to tell you” Yeji laughed, placing her drink down on the table. “Mingyu asked her to be his girlfriend today. More like last night, but it was already past midn—”

Everything else after that was muffled by the sound of his heart breaking.

The sound inside his chest was so clear to him, so deafening, followed by an ache a hundred times more painful than the one he felt when he found out that you were merely seeing someone, that there wasn’t any room for him to ponder what it was that he was feeling.

Heartbreak. It was clear as day.

Agonizing, infernal heartbreak.

That night, it was followed by quiet tears, as he lied alone in bed and welcomed the new year with a broken heart.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

The second heartbreak came a year and a half later, when he was torn between trying his best to move on and still not letting go of the nearly gone hope of the two of you being together at some point.

You and Yeji were in her room, and he was downstairs helping their mother set up the table for dinner.

He was trying his best to ignore the fact that you were there. He wasn’t ignoring you, of course — he could never. But you being there made him unable to focus on anything else, and he needed to focus on literally anything else but you.

Ever since you and Mingyu became official, you hardly ever interacted anymore. All his attempts during his first year of uni seemed pointless by then, long forgotten. He ignored the reason, but he guessed it had to do with you only making time for your boyfriend now. As far as he knew, the only two friends you actually made an effort to keep contact with were Yeji and Chan — all the rest, he had not heard from since a while ago. Then again, it wasn’t like you talked that much anymore for him to actually know anything about your life other than the bits he’d get from Yeji whenever she either slipped up in front of him or straight up gushed to him about you.

So, it wasn’t hard to understand that he’d be a little uneasy, jumpy even, whenever you visited.

And it wouldn’t take a genius either to imagine how much he dreaded the moment his mother asked him to go up to his sister’s bedroom and call the both of you to go downstairs for dinner.

But orders were orders, and so he made his way to the second floor, dragging his feet all the way up the stairs.

Before he could reach the last stair, however, he heard your voice coming out of Yeji’s room, being followed by his sister’s laugh as the two of you were now apparently standing in the hallway, about to make your way downstairs before he could tell you to.

He thought of just turning around and heading back into the kitchen, since he could only guess you were heading over there and therefore he didn’t need to tell you to anymore, but the words he heard coming from your mouth made him stand still in his place.

“Honestly, I can’t believe he took me to his hometown and I met his family already. They’re all so nice it felt like a dream” you beamed.

“Kinda makes you want to become a part of it?” Yeji teased you.

“Yeah…” your voice came out rather shy, and Hyunjin could tell you were smiling. “I barely talk to my family and they were so welcoming it made me feel at home. I don’t know, Yeji, I’m so in love with him and meeting his family made me realise how bad I want him to father my children”.

Hyunjin wanted to leave. He didn’t want to hear anymore. But his feet betrayed him.

“Yeah, let’s get some financial stability before that, shall we?” Yeji chuckled, footsteps sounding closer and closer to him.

“Shut up” you laughed. “Not now of course, but Mingyu’s it for me, I’m sure”.

Move. Hwang Hyunjin, leave.

“I guess I’m waiting for my invitation to your wedding then?”

You don’t wanna hear it. Move!

“Oh, I’m definitely marrying him one day” you giggled. “And you’ll be on bridesmaid duty, so if anything you’ll be the one helping me with the invitations”.

There it was again, the unbearable pain in his chest again.

If he were holding a spoon again, he would’ve dropped it all the way down the stairs by now. Hell, he felt like he could fall down the stairs anytime by now, as his knees felt like they were about to give up any second.

“Oh?” Yeji’s voice brought him back to his senses when it was too late for him to escape — the two of you now right in front of him, as he was blocking the way. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just coming up to call you guys downstairs” he replied in a heartbeat, not sure how he managed to speak without his voice breaking. “Dinner’s ready”.

Yeji nodded, giving you a quick glance before Hyunjin squeezed against the wall so he could make some room for the two of you to start walking down the stairs.

“Aren’t you coming?” You asked him, turning around midway, when Yeji was already on the first floor and you realised Hyunjin wasn’t moving at all.

“Uh, yeah” he managed to blurt out. “Just… need to get something from my room first. I’ll go right down”.

You nodded, sensing something was wrong, yet not finding it in you to ask him what it was.

This heartbreak was somehow worse than the first one, Hyunjin decided once in his room. First, he couldn’t cry and let it out until he fell asleep, managing to keep it from everyone else like he did back then, for his parents, his sister and you were waiting downstairs for him, and he was sure his mum would burst into his room within the next five minutes if he wasn’t with them by then. And, second, it felt final. The first heartbreak came when you started dating someone else, but this one was because you decided you had found your person, the very one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and it wasn’t him.

A few hot tears rolled down his face, and he harshly wiped them off before taking a deep breath and making his way back down, not ready at all to face you of all people, yet knowing well enough there was no hiding this time.

The rest of the evening was a blur to him. The only thing he remembered was remaining silent and hardly touching his food, later excusing himself when he felt like he couldn’t take it anymore, like he would break down right then and there if he stayed one more second in your presence, and then nothing.

A blur.

Any small glimpse of hope he managed to keep that past year and a half was now gone.

He couldn’t afford to be torn between moving on and waiting for you anymore, because you had made your choice, and it wasn’t him. It would never be him.

Your heart belonged to Mingyu, and he would have to finally come to terms with it.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

Two other years had passed since Hyunjin decided to move on from you for good, and still, he was hardly there just yet.

He wanted to believe he was over you. He told everyone —that being Han and Minho, the only ones who knew he ever had feelings for you— that he was over you. But deep down, he knew he wasn’t.

In those two years, he tried to give relationships a try. Both times, unsuccessful — because no matter how much he progressed, any time he saw you, he would go right back to stage one.

His first girlfriend was Seoyun, a girl he met through a dating app. Not his proudest moment, but he needed to get over you and he needed to get over you fast. His intention was to go for something casual. Just date, date and date, as many people as he could, until he could finally move on from you; but he soon realised that casual flings just weren’t for him. If he wanted to stop loving you, he needed to love someone else, and Seoyun seemed like the best candidate for it.

They lasted three months, and although he tried his best, he couldn’t fall for her. Not in the way he fell for you. Definitely not in the way you had fallen for Mingyu, who was still getting all your devoted love as you seemed to be happier together by the day.

His second girlfriend was Nara, a girl from his calculus class. This time, she chased after him, and after a while he figured why not give her a chance. His feelings for you weren’t lessening any more and neither were yours for Mingyu, so he needed someone to help him get rid of them.

He realised it was unfair to her, but he tried. Just like with Seoyun, he really tried to love her. She was great. She was pretty, she was funny, and she was head over heels for him. She met you outside his family home one day when you and his sister were visiting and you loved her, to the point of proposing a ‘triple date’, including Chan and Yeji, since they were just then beginning to date. Yeji met her too, of course, and loved her as well.

And yet, he, the one person who so desperately needed to love her, couldn’t.

He was actually sure the day you met Nara was the moment he realised it wasn’t working out and it would never work out — when you proposed a triple date and he could only think of how fucking much it would hurt to sit there and watch you be all lovey dovey with your boyfriend, while his own girlfriend was right there with him.

They had recently turned five months together when it happened, and that was as much as it lasted.

Hyunjin gave up on dating entirely after that, at least until he could get one hundred percent over you. He couldn’t just try and —unsuccessfully— force himself to love someone else while he still loved you, for in the end he’d only end up using them for his own benefit, and he hated himself for it.

He could only put his faith in time now. People always said that time heals it all, and he was really counting on it to let go of you.

But then time passed and instead of it healing his heart, it broke yours.

You and Mingyu broke up overnight, and although Hyunjin should’ve been hopeful, happy even, over the news, he realised his lingering feelings for you were very much alive when, to his own surprise, he felt his heart break for a third time.

He was at Yeji’s that evening — being too bored at his shared place with Han, he decided to annoy his sister for a while and be bored at hers instead.

Hyunjin was looking for a snack in her kitchen, when a knock on the door caught his attention. He wondered whether he should ignore it since Yeji was taking a shower and he most definitely didn’t want to deal with strangers right then, but ultimately he walked over to it and looked through the peephole when the knocks became louder, only to see you on the other side of it.

The smile that formed on his face at the simple sight of you was gone the moment he opened the door and took in how miserable you looked.

If that alone told him something was wrong, when you didn’t perk up like you always did whenever you saw him and barely even acknowledged him as you made your way inside, he knew you weren’t thinking straight right then.

“Um… are you okay?” He carefully asked, closing the door behind him as he turned to you.

“Is Yeji home?” You asked instead, voice breaking as you looked around in search of your friend.

Hyunjin nodded. “She’s taking a shower. Shouldn’t take long”.

You nodded, and although you said nothing, the way your chest heavily moved up and down told him you were hyperventilating.

“Y/N…” he called you quietly, almost scared to ask. “Are you okay?”

Again, you said nothing.

“Do you need anything?” He came closer to you.

You shook your head no, blinking rapidly. “Yeji. I need Yeji”.

“Okay, okay…” he said as tenderly as he could. “She’s coming, just—“

“Can you tell her to hurry up? I’m just…” you took a deep, shaky breath; one that made him instantly alert over how clear it was you were finding it hard to breathe. He panicked when you grabbed your chest. “Oh, God, I’m—”

“Hey, I’m here” he said, grabbing your hands and holding them tight as ever. “What happened? Tell me what’s wrong”.

He could see it in your eyes that you wanted to tell him, but although you opened your mouth to let him know what was wrong, no sound came out of it and you ended up just closing it again.

You weren’t able to speak, so he did it for you.

“Did something happen with Mingyu?” He sounded almost scared to ask.

That seemed to hit the nail on the head.

You looked up at him, and he could only grow worried, infuriated, over all kinds of thoughts that ran through his head the moment your eyes welled up with tears.

“Did he do something to you?!”

Your bottom lip quivered.

The first tear fell.

“Hyunie…”

Then you broke down.

Burying your face in his chest, you tugged tightly at his hoodie as you finally let yourself go.

Although stunned and still trying to comprehend the whole situation, Hyunjin didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, scared you’d collapse anytime by then.

It wasn’t like any other cry he’d heard before.

This was different. Your sobs sounded like you were in excruciating pain, like it was hard to breathe, and your chest trembling against his own with every cry of yours felt like it was being ripped open from the inside.

He could only hold you closer, somehow trying to ground you, but it was of no use.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” he repeated over and over, almost inaudibly under your sobs.

You tried to speak, either to explain what happened or to simply let it all out, but you couldn’t.

You were choking on your own words, and Hyunjin felt his own eyes well up with tears as he hurt for you and felt hopeless as ever, being able to do nothing else but run his hand up and down your back in a poor attempt to soothe you.

When your cries wouldn’t stop after a minute, he whispered a small ‘come here’ before he gently guided you towards the sofa. Slowly, not to break away from your hold, he managed to sit both of you down on it.

Your face instinctively moved up from his chest to the crook of his neck, where you hid it as you tried to calm down your sobs — finding comfort in his familiar sweet scent and in the gentle touch of his fingers running through your hair.

“What did he do?” He asked when your sobs seemed to quiet down.

You shook your head no, tugging harder at the fabric of his hoodie.

“Y/N, please…” he begged, pulling you slightly away, only enough to look into your reddened eyes. “I need to know what he did so I can do something about it”.

“You c-can do nothing about it, b-because it was his—his choice” you sniffled.

“What do you mean?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and for a moment there he regretted asking you that. But he needed to know.

Then, you took a deep breath, opening your mouth for a second and then closing it — the words you were about to say being harder to voice out than you expected.

“He left me,” you spoke in a whisper after a few seconds, and Hyunjin felt his world stop. “He d-doesn’t love me anymore. He loves her. He left me for her, for the one girl I—”

You choked on your own words once more, being unable to speak over your sobs anymore, and so he just pulled you back to his chest, allowing you to just cry until you let it all out.

He hoped you couldn’t feel his blood boiling, because he was seeing red right then.

How dare he break your heart? How fucking dare he leave you for someone else?

He had been wishing to be in Mingyu’s shoes for years now, and he, who had you all to himself in every single way Hyunjin ever wished to, didn’t feel like it anymore?

For years he had unsuccessfully been trying to stop loving you because he knew he couldn’t have you, and Mingyu, the one who had you, stopped loving you? Just like that? Because of someone else?

Who could even fucking compare to you?!

“What happened?!” Yeji bursted into the living room, snapping him out of his thoughts — only a towel covering her poorly dried body and her wet hair leaving a trail of drops behind her. “I heard—”

Hyunjin motioned for her to keep quiet, silently letting her know that he got you and she could go change before coming back to comfort you. It seemed like it would be a long night after all, and neither of them were getting any sleep until you were better.

Many times he had wished Mingyu and you would break up, but not like this. Not with you feeling so worthless and taking the worst part of it.

Not with you feeling the same kind of pain he had felt two times by now, and making him feel it a third time while at it. Because seeing the person he loved with all his being in so much pain, could only break his heart all over again.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-♡

After that night, Hyunjin felt himself grow protective over you.

So, the moment he read your texts, the very ones that mentioned ‘Mingyu’, ‘spamming’ and ‘losing it’ in the span of three paragraphs, he knew he was coming to you. Now more than ever, when your two best friends were out of town and he was pretty much the only person left you had.

His mind was filled with the night you broke down in his arms, and he’d be damned if you ever broke down just like that again and he wasn’t there to hold you.

He knew what the past few months had been like for you, he had been there through it all. From the weeks you isolated yourself and lost weight due to the lack of appetite you experienced through your slump, to your self-loathing ways and your complete loss of self-confidence when it came to showing yourself to the world and comparing yourself to everyone else. Because one thing was to be broken up with, and a very different one was to be left for someone else.

He, Yeji and Chan had been there for you through it all, trying their best to bring you back up and finally feeling like they were succeeding at it.

He felt nauseous over the simple thought of you crumbling down all over again, all because Mingyu decided it would be appropriate to text you regarding your relationship after he was the one to break your heart in the first place.

Therefore, Hyunjin only felt like he could breathe when you were in front of him, having opened the door not even five seconds after he knocked on it, and you looked okay. Not perfect, as the red shade in your eyes and nose let him know you had indeed cried a few minutes ago, but okay regardless. Better than you were the last time you lost it over your ex.

“You okay?” He asked tenderly, entering your place when you moved aside to invite him in.

You nodded, closing the door behind you and waiting for him to take off his shoes before guiding him to the living room, where he found a red blanket lying on your couch and the third season of Attack on Titan playing on the TV in front of it — as expected.

“You really didn’t have to come, Hyunie…” you mumbled. “Talking on the phone would’ve done it, I didn’t mean to bother you”.

“Will you just… stop saying you’re a bother?” He couldn’t help but sound annoyed. “You’re not”.

“But—”

“You’re not a bother, Y/N. I wanted to come here. I want to be here, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so harsh, I just…” he sighed, coming closer to you. “You really worried me”.

“Sor—”

“And don’t you dare say sorry for worrying me” he warned you with a taunting smirk this time.

The corners of your mouth curved up at that, shaking your head in amusement before you quietly motioned for him to sit down on the couch.

Hyunjin didn’t wait to do as told, making the blanket aside so he wouldn’t sit on it, and revealing your phone under it for a moment before you took a seat next to him.

“Has he texted you anymore?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” your answer gave him some peace of mind. “I said I’d block him otherwise, so he hasn’t insisted”.

Hyunjin opened his mouth to say something, but ultimately remained quiet. Still, you had managed to notice and didn’t let it slip.

“What?”

“Nothing” he shook his head.

“You were about to say something”.

“I just,” he shrugged. “Thought he’d be already blocked by now”.

You smiled weakly, grabbing your phone and placing it on your coffee table. “It’s delusional, isn’t it?” Your eyes fixed back on him. “I told him the only reason I haven’t blocked him is because we both work for the same company, but honestly I just haven’t been able to bring myself to do it”.

“It’s not delusional…” he fidgeted with the ends of your blanket. “It hasn’t been that long since you guys broke up after all”.

“I know… but given the way he left me and how I’ve seen him and Hayun together at work multiple times, I feel like I should hate him, or at least not love him anymore”.

“Oh…” he lowered his head, hurting at the idea of you still loving your ex. “So you’re still…”

“I’m trying not to,” you confessed — just like Hyunjin, refusing to say it out loud. “It’s just hard, but I’ll get there at some point”.

He nodded. “I can only imagine how hard must it be…”

“Was it hard for you?”

“Huh?”

“With Nara,” you clarified. “Getting over her…”

“Oh,” he bit his lip. “Not really…”

“It wasn’t?” You tilted your head in surprise.

He shrugged. “We only lasted five months…”

“Which is a lot?!”

He smiled bittersweetly. Sure, maybe to some people it was a lot, but it was nothing compared to the six years he had been in love with you.

Your question was being asked about the wrong person, because getting over Nara wasn’t hard at all, given the fact that he was never in love with her to begin with. Getting over you, however? Fuck, there was nothing harder than that.

He could only hope and pray that wouldn’t be the case for you with Mingyu.

“We ended it on good terms” he let you know. “We just weren’t working out. It was for the best, so there wasn’t much grieving, if I’m honest”.

“Hm…” you quietly lamented, staring down at your lap. “I mean, I’m glad you didn’t have a hard time moving on from her, but I guess I can’t ask you for tips on how to move on from someone now”.

He laughed under his breath. Honestly, he sucked at moving on. He was the last person you should come to for advice.

“I guess not… sorry” he apologized. “Time’s supposed to heal it all, though”.

Didn’t work for him so far, but he knew it was the case for most people. Hopefully it would be the case for you.

You chuckled. “Yeah, so I’ve heard. I would just like to speed the process”.

“You’ll get there eventually, don’t push yourself too hard” he offered a comforting smile. “I’m sure going zero contact and blocking him would help, though”.

This time, you couldn’t hold back a throaty laugh that had him quietly joining you right after. “You really hate his ass, don’t you?”

“I’m just saying…” he shrugged once again, trying to act nonchalant, yet failing miserably at erasing the smile curving up his lips. “What happened today wouldn’t have happened if he was blocked”.

“That’s a good point” you agreed.

“What did he even text you for again?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “He just wanted to check up on me, or so he said”.

Hyunjin shook his head in disappointment. “Sounds to me like he just wants to keep you in line”.

“What do you mean?” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Why text you the day before your anniversary? Why now?” He wondered. “It’s like he wants you to think about it and dwell on it. Like he wanted you to be upset so he could comfort you about it”.

You remained silent for a few seconds, carefully taking in his words.

“I want to believe he isn’t that much of an asshole…”

Hyunjin snorted, shaking his head once again, but this time in amusement. “He’s proved himself to be one more than once by now”.

“Yeah, I know…” you mumbled. “I just don’t get why he’d want to keep me in line now that he’s with her. I mean, he literally left me for her, and she’s so fucking pretty, I…”

“You’re prettier”.

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and he caught a small sparkle appearing in them before you shook it off and decided to joke about it. “Yeji really trained you well for this weekend, huh?”

“No, I mean it”.

“You haven’t even seen Hayun”.

“I have, though?” His eyebrows furrowed. He was there when you’d cry and show Yeji pictures of the girl Mingyu left you for, feeling his blood boil while at it. “She’s got nothing on you, you’re way prettier than her”.

“Hyunjin…”

“I’m serious, Y/N” he stood his ground. “It sucks that you feel inferior to her just because she’s with him, because honestly you’re a thousand times better. And considering she literally came in between your relationship with Mingyu, she’s ugly and unattractive as hell on the inside while you’re beautiful inside and out, so…”

To say you were speechless was an understatement. He was speechless as well, not having planned to go off like that, yet being unable to hear you bring yourself down once again when you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

For a moment there, he feared his feelings for you had been left out in the open for you to realise.

He was lucky you were dense as a brick and still somewhat emotionally unavailable to even think something of it.

“Wow, um…” you brought your hands up to cup your face, suddenly feeling hot. “My cheeks are burning, so I guess that’s enough break up talk for now”.

Although you were avoiding the topic, Hyunjin smiled, lowering his head to hold back a small giggle that threatened to come out of his mouth. He made you feel flustered, that was enough for him to be on cloud nine.

You stood up almost in a rush, looking for the remote before placing it on his lap for him to grab. “Why don’t you look for the summer camp arc while I go make us some tea instead?”

“Are you sure you want to switch to Haikyuu when Levi’s about to get more screen time?” He teased, knowing well enough that you, just like his sister, were a Levi girl.

Snorting at his remark, you motioned for him to go on with your previous order. “I have so many edits of my man saved, I can just look at him whenever”.

Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head amusedly as he complied with your wishes and exited Attack on Titan to look for Haikyuu instead.

“Plus, Haikyuu’s got Kenma in it, so…”

“He’s a high school student” he pointed out.

“Are you calling me a cradle-snatcher?” You raised a questioning eyebrow.

This time, Hyunjin couldn’t hold back a giggle, finding the way your voice turned a pitch higher in offense to be a little too cute. “Your words, not mine”.

“Mind you, he’s a ‘95 liner” you pointed out, only managing to make him laugh harder. “He’s even older than me!”

“I didn’t even say anything” Hyunjin held both his hands up in defense, failing once more at trying to erase his smile.

God, you looked so cute right then, he couldn’t even be mad over the fact that you didn’t seem to fall for younger guys when it came to fiction either.

“We can skip on the tea if you want, so you can see your man sooner” he taunted, pressing play on the second season before you could leave the room.

Jaw dropping in both amusement and offense, you squinted your eyes at him. “You know, I was bringing you those cookies you love so much with it, but I’m not anymore”.

“The chocolate chip ones you make?” His head snapped back towards you.

“Mhm… I made a whole batch yesterday” you nodded, not missing the way his eyes lit up with excitement. “But you don’t deserve them anymore”.

“You’re not serious”.

“Oh, but I am” you smiled cynically, turning your back to him as you made your way to the kitchen. “Just stay there, I won’t take long”.

“No way, I’m coming with you” he stated, already following hot on your heels. “Those are my favourites, I’m not leaving until I’ve tried them”.

You chuckled, feeling him stand behind you while you turned on the kettle. “I guess I’ve got no choice then, because I don’t have a spare bed for you to sleep on”.

“I can always just crash on your couch, but I would appreciate not having to and getting to try your cookies instead”.

You laughed wholeheartedly, gently shoving him towards the cabinet. “Just go grab a plate, you dork”.

Doing as told, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at you and feel his heart finally be at ease, now that a genuine smile was plastered on your face and your eyes were no longer reddened and tired like they were when he just arrived, but smiling and playful instead. All thanks to him.

And one hour later, when your red blanket was being shared and covering your legs as the two of you sat down on your sofa, and your head was hovering over his shoulder and lightly tapping on it every five seconds, given you were miserably fighting against dozing off while looking at the TV, Hyunjin wished he hadn’t tried your cookies at all, so he’d have an excuse to keep his threatening words and not leave until he did.

He hoped you wouldn’t bring up how late it was and make him leave just yet.

He hoped you would just fall asleep on his shoulder and let him enjoy your closeness for a little bit.

Most of all, he hoped one day he would be able to come over late at night —or at any given hour— just because, not only because you needed him to and because his sister wasn’t in Seoul; and you would deliberately rest your head on his shoulder when you felt your eyelids become too heavy, and he wouldn’t have to wake you up once it got too late and it was time for him to leave, because he wouldn’t have to leave.

But for now, he would let you sleep for as long as he could without falling asleep as well, which wouldn’t be hard, considering he didn’t feel a single pinch of sleepiness as he rejoiced in the coincidental warmth of your body against his.

And if you happened to realise how wide awake he was once you woke up, he would blame it all on the sugar rush he got from all the cookies he munched on while being too immersed in the series.

Using yet another small excuse to be close to you wouldn’t hurt.

tag list: @jehhskz @iknowyouknowminho @doohnut @saintcosette @lailac13 @kayleefriedchicken @rikibun @yongbokkiesworld @seungzsmin @beautifulcolorgarden @hyunetopia @velvetmoonlght @automaticpersonabatpaper @httpdwaekki @brinnalaine @wondering-out-loud @feelikecinderella @nujeskz @amarecerasus @liknws @nhyunn @midsoulz @tirena1 @tinyelfperson @thatonexcgirl @iovecb97 @hynier @phenomenalgirl9 @your-favorite-pirate @jin-from-the-block @yearofthetiger25 @quokkacidal @stayconnecteed @kwanisms @yoonguurt @143hyunes @iiriam @curlytxe @hyunlvrs @allyrarara @machaandlofi @mehli-00 @justiceforvillains @minhosprettywife @whats-my-question @armystay89 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hyeon-yi @skzstannie @onlyhyunjin @shyshyshytwice @nicoleparadas @​broken-glowsticks @sweetbokji @linavc

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Say my Name, As if it’s Drowning in the Tide - Jayce x Reader (Chapter 1)

Summary: But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

Pairing: Jayce x Reader Modern AU, one-sided Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit

Tags: Hate Sex, Emotional Roleplay, One-sided Attraction, Grinding, Dry-Humping, Premature Ejaculation, Coming Untouched, Switch!Jayce, Rough Kissing, Biting, Shower Sex, Angst, One Bed

Notes: I love my pathetic son Jayce, so I needed to make him just a bit wetter and sadder for… reasons. This is a two-parter, because it was looking too heavy as a one-shot and the second part still needs a bit more attention. I need to stop having too many multi-chapter projects at the same time before I go insane. Anyway, enjoy ❤️!!

You tap your fingers on the wooden countertop, trying to remain calm despite the growing pressure inside your skull.

“And you're sure there's not a single other room left ?” you ask with a tense smile, your teeth grinding against each other almost audibly.

The receptionist gives you yet another blank stare. She's hardly older than seventeen, probably helping out her parent's business, and clearly not paid enough to care about whether or not you stay or go.

“No, ma'am, there are no other rooms available for the duration of your stay,” she repeats robotically. It's as if you've been stuck in the same dialogue tree for half an hour with a badly programmed NPC. “We're a family-owned business, and we only have ten rooms available at once. Your reservation was for a single bedroom, not two.”

The exaggerated sound of her slowly chewing gum is driving you insane. “She's just doing her job’, you have to remind yourself. It's not her fault, you know that; plus, if there's anybody to blame, it's Jayce.

You turn towards the culprit in question, large shoulders slightly slumped and eyes escaping your glare. Pathetic.

“Seriously, Jayce?” you state in disbelief. “I asked you to do one thing for the trip.”

Jayce visibly takes offence to that, raising one stupidly large hand in objection:

“That's not fair, I was also taking care of bringing the prototype!”

“And I signed us up to the conference,” you hiss back. “I prepared our lecture. I got our bus tickets here and back. I made our itinerary for the whole three days. I even wrote down where we could go to bring back souvenirs for Sky and Viktor!”

You point an accusing finger at him, tapping it against his chest:

“The only thing I wanted you to take care of was the fucking motel. And you couldn't even do that right!”

He throws up both hands in exasperation, rolling his eyes. If there wasn't a minor in the same room, you'd have no qualms about punching him.

“Fine, alright, I messed up, what do you want me to say? ‘I'm sorry I'm such an idiot'?”

You exhale in frustration, throwing him one last resentful look before turning back to the receptionist: “Yeah, that would be a good start”, you scoff under your breath.

He makes a dramatic groan of annoyance behind you, like this entire situation isn't his fault.

The Academy barely gives you enough budget to attend two national mechanical engineering conferences a year. You had originally planned to go to this one with Viktor, specifically because of its location: nice and remote, the air fresh and relaxing, the few roads leading to the major cities surrounded by millennial trees and mountain peaks. The perfect place for a spark of romance to ignite between the two of you.

Unfortunately, Viktor had already scheduled a weekend seminar on the exact same date as the conference. Sky, your fourth and youngest lab partner, wasn't equipped enough to help you present all the complex features of the university's mechanical arm project. Only one other person could.

Jayce fucking Talis, and his magical ability to never do anything right.

“We'll just get our money back and find another place to crash,” he argues, walking up next to you to the counter, resting his weight against it; it creaks disapprovingly. “It doesn't have to be a whole thing.”

“I'm sorry sir,” the teen flatly interjects, still smacking the gum between her brace-clad teeth. Squish, squish. “But we require cancellations to be made 24 hours prior to the reservation. We cannot reimburse you as per the politics you have agreed to on our website.”

You'd probably get more interactive answers from a chatbot. Jayce kneads the lines on his forehead, his practiced megawatt smile starting to crack from fatigue. The girl stares at him with neither sympathy nor sadness; she brings her lips together to form a small pink bubble, letting it burst after a few seconds. Pop.

“Okay, you know what,” Jayce sighs in defeat, “I'll pay for our rooms somewhere else. It's on me. As an apology.”

This would be an excellent time to not subtly sneak in a remark on how he's always using his parent's money to get himself out of the messes he's created, but the teen speaks up again before you get a chance to:

“Sir,” she adds with her irritatingly nasal voice. “You should know the only other motel in the area only accepts new reservations until 9 pm.”

She nods pointedly towards an old grandfather clock on the wall, and the two of you look at it in sync: it's 9:06.

Now you're genuinely hesitating between strangling her or Jayce.

“You really know how to make a guy feel better, huh?” Jayce attempts with a weak laugh, the plastic smile crumbling a little further.

She only gives him a vacant gaze.

Your legs are aching from the long ride in the overcrowded bus, and the arduous walk to the motel with half the disassembled prototype on your back. You've been dreaming of laying down on a bed for the last three hours, and even if another inn was open nearby, you doubt you'd have the will to carry everything there.

“I don't care anymore,” you sigh, massaging the side of your temple to relieve some of the built-up tension. “I'm exhausted, and we need to rest if we want to be any good tomorrow morning. We'll just figure it out upstairs.”

Jayce makes a non-committal sound of agreement; if you had more energy, you'd angrily ask him if he has any better ideas he'd like to share. But you don't, so you just focus back on the unexcited receptionist. Ironically enough, the letters on her cropped shirt spell ‘GOOD VIBES ONLY’.

“We'll take the room,” you conclude, worn out.

The teen barely blinks as she inputs something into her old computer, the vintage monitor buzzing unpleasantly before she hands you two scratched keycards mechanically.

“Room 207. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay at Grizzly Country Motel,” she deadpans.

You mumble a thank you, but she either doesn't hear or chooses to ignore it in favour of going back to her cell phone, like your entire interaction had been nothing more than chasing away a couple of flies.

Jayce at least has the decency to grab both your luggage and his before you both head towards the stairs; if he’s got all those muscles, he might as well put them to use. You feel a pang of annoyance at how easily he carries the bags that you struggled to hold the entire day.

“Don't you think it's weird when they say ‘we’?” he mumbles pensively as you go up the stairway. “It's like everyone who works at a hotel is in a hivemind.”

You can't even find the will to look back and glare at him.

“No, Talis, I was actually thinking about how I'd fix all the problems you've created,” you reply drily.

You reach the second floor, knees buckling. Room 201, 202, 203…

“You'll just take half the bed and I'll take the other half,” Jayce pipes up from behind you, grunting as he pulls the last bag up. “We'll put a pillow in the middle. It'll be like nothing even happened.”

Oh, to be in the mind of Jayce Talis, where the universe is so fucking simple and accountability is a myth.

You hate how he always has an answer for everything, like it’s all so easy for him. You've fought hard to reach this point — to earn your place in the Academy, to be seen as a true scientist, breaking through barriers in a field where women remain the minority. It’s taken blood, sweat, and tears, years of effort that people like Viktor and Sky understand and respect.

Room 204, 205, 206…

But for Jayce Talis, it’s all sunshine, rainbows, and candy-colored skies. His family owns one of the largest metallurgy companies in the country, and has stocks invested in some of the biggest steel producers on the globe. He’s never had to work a single day in his life to put himself through school, never had to sacrifice anything for his dreams. You don’t think there’s a single thing he’s ever actually had to put effort in: he barely studies and still aces all his classes, hardly puts any care into his appearance, yet always looks like he’s out of the cover of the Times’ 50 Most Desirable Men. It’s infuriating to an unspeakable degree.

Room 207.

You tap one of the keycards on the handle, letting out a small sigh of relief when the mechanism beeps joyfully. Today hasn't been ideal, but at least, you're only a few feet away from a soft, comfortable bed.

You open the door, walking in with little decorum. It's small and bare, as you expected: a single window dulled by years of exposure, a box TV taken straight from the nineties, a dingy light fixture barely illuminating a greyed-out wallpaper of a forest scene, and…

“Talis,” you pause. He almost bumps into your back, fumbling with the bags in his arms.

“What?” he asks in confusion, peering over your shoulder. “Oh,” he simply says when he sees the issue.

“Talis,” you repeat slowly, trying to maintain your tone even, despite how badly you want to scream. “This is a single bed.”

Indeed, not only is there only one bed, it's evidently sized for a single person. It's ridiculously tiny. It doesn't take a genius to see that with someone of Jayce's stature, you'd have to practically sleep on top of him if you wanted to share the bed.

“Wait, I swear I asked for doubles for both of us-” he protests immediately.

“It's fine,” you cut him off, despite it being the exact opposite. The headache is getting worse, and you don't feel like arguing with him any more than you already have. “I'll take the bed tonight, and you take the floor, and we alternate tomorrow.”

Jayce puts all the bags down on the carpeted floor, visibly dejected.

“Again, I'm really sorry about this,” he mumbles, and even though you can tell it's genuine, it doesn't make you feel any better. Every ambigious prejudice you might have had against him has just confirmed itself: he’s a spoiled mama’s boy, who isn’t able to navigate the real world alone, and who’ll simply cry when he messes up things for everyone else.

“Whatever,” you grumble, sitting tiredly on the edge of the puny bed that groans painfully under your weight; it doesn't even have the decency to be comfortable. “Just means I'll have to take care of everything if we ever do symposium together again.”

He looks like a scolded puppy, unmoving, eyes avoidant, his large frame blocking the doorway. Jayce is extremely talented at making people pity him, with his huge citrine eyes and perfectly rosy cheeks. It almost makes you hesitate before adding the next words, but bitterness takes the upper hand: “This is the kind of mistake Viktor never makes.”

He doesn't reply.

You can tell that hurt him just as much as you intended with the way his body slightly curves inwards, his fits visibly clenching inside his pockets. Well, good. He's old and smart enough to know actions have consequences. He's supposed to be your partner, not a child you're babysitting.

“I'm…gonna go take a shower,” he hesitantly adds after a few tense seconds. “I'm still sweaty from the bus ride. Is that… okay with you?”

You shrug with disinterest; you know you’re just being petty now, but thinking of everything that could have been, had it been Viktor on this trip and not him, is leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Fine by me. I'll take mine right after.”

He waits a moment, like he's expecting you to add something else; maybe extend the olive branch. When you don't provide, he sighs, making his way to the bathroom door and closing it behind him.

You let your body fall back on the mattress with a heavy ‘oomph’. It's not as uncomfortable as it first seemed; it's firm, but the covers are soft, and the single pillow feels nicely fluffed. A couple might actually be pretty cozy in this bed, one body on top of the other, their libs entangled lovingly. It could have been you and Viktor.

Viktor.

Viktor, and his honey-coloured eyes. Viktor, and his teasing smile that makes your heart skip a beat. Viktor, and the way his long fingers twirl in his chestnut hair when he's focused, the way he absentmindedly licks his bottom lip when he's lost in thought. Viktor, and-

“Hey, um,” Jayce's booming voice from the other room interrupts your reverie. “C'mere for a sec?”

You groan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut. Maybe if you pretend he isn't there, he'll disappear all on his own.

“No, seriously,” he insists.

No luck. You get up lethargically, cursing the man under your breath.

“Left side with the red is hot, right side with the blue is cold, Talis,” you ironize. You open the door to the bathroom to see him standing in front of the shower door, thankfully still fully clothed. “Do you need help opening the shampoo bottle, too?”

He glares back at you in annoyance:

“Fuck off. Look.”

He nods towards a paper sign you hadn't noticed tapped on the glass panel, amateurishly plastified with a clear file folder.

[PLEASE DO NOT USE THE SHOWER MORE THAN ONCE A DAY. 10 MINUTES OF HOT WATER PER ROOM]

Well, you were wrong. Jayce Talis isn't just a forgetful idiot with bad luck.

He's a fucking curse.

“The room and the bed, I could forgive,” you start, fuming. But the shower?!”

“How was I supposed to know?!” he yells back melodramatically. “You told me to find something cheap to not go over budget!”

You shove him in frustration, only getting more annoyed when it doesn't make his stupidly huge body move a single inch:

“I didn't mean you should book a fucking dumpster!”

A loud, pointed knock echoing from beyond the bathroom wall silences you both.

Delightful. The neighbours can hear everything.

You move a step away from Jayce, the width of the bathroom not allowing much in terms of distancing.

“Sorry,” you mumble under your breath. You aren’t, but it's that or getting kicked out of the only open motel in miles for a noise complaint. “Yelling isn't gonna lead us anywhere. You can take five minutes, and I'll take the other five. It's gonna be short, but that's probably the best we can do.”

He at least has the decency to look appreciative, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“I can give you the whole ten minutes, to apologize. This is my fault,” he admits. It’s always like this with him, as if his never-ending self-pity cleanses him of any possible wrongdoing. You despise that.

“And have you stink up the whole place smelling like a football locker room? No way,” you scrunch up your nose. Just by sharing a workspace with him, you know Jayce has the hygiene skills of a teenage boy who thinks Axe body spray and cologne make sweat magically vanish; the sheer power of the unholy combination would keep you awake all night.

“Or…” Jayce trails on for a few uncharacteristically long seconds. He's usually more the type to say things before reflecting on them, but he's pinching his lips tightly, clearly hesitant about what he's going to add next. “…We could share the shower?”

You look at him with an expression frozen between incomprehension and disgust: “What?”

“I mean, it's big enough for two people to stand without touching,” he quickly justifies, raising his hands innocently. “I could take the flexible hose, and you'd just go under the showerhead. That way we'd both get ten minutes!”

He's using the overly excited voice he takes on whenever he's giving someone his sales pitch for a new, stupid idea he's had. It might work wonders on most, but you know better than to fall for it.

“So you're that desperate to see me naked?” you sneer.

“I'm trying to be helpful here!” he complains.

If you're being honest, it's not that bad of an idea. The shower is small in width, but it's quite long, making it a very viable option for two people to use at once. If you manoeuver everything right, it'll almost be like you're taking a long, nice ten-minute shower on your own.

“Fine,” you capitulate, making sure to enunciate the word painfully slowly so he knows you're not doing it out of the kindness of your heart. “But if you tell anyone this happened, especially Viktor, I'm cutting off your balls and using them to-”

“Yeah, got it, wouldn't want Viktor to think you like me,” he taunts mockingly, puckering his lips in a false kiss at the other man's name.

It's the first time you've agreed to an idea from Jayce, and you're already regretting it.

“Just shut up and get in the fucking shower,” you spit out, going back to the main room without sparing him another look. “Face the wall and call me when you're done. There’s no reason for this to be weird.”

—

He’s hard.

Very obviously and undeniably hard.

Jayce has been splashing his face with cold water for the last few minutes, to no avail. He's tried every technique he can possibly think of: running in place, breathing exercises, imagining his abuelita naked, nothing is working.

The only thing he can visualize is your body, completely bare in that shower, only a few inches away from his. The water pouring down from your hair to your shoulders, to your breasts, and then alongside the curves of your thighs, and your ass-

“Shut up,” he mumbles to himself in the empty bathroom.

It's not a secret to anyone that Jayce likes you. Neither is it a secret that you're utterly uninterested and only have eyes for Viktor, except perhaps for Viktor himself. It's kind of unfair how two-thirds of Viktor's lab partners are in love with him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get it, and that his eyes never lingered on that little mole above Viktor's lip for longer than they should have. But damn it, he wants you. He wants you to want him. Is that such an unfair thing to ask for?

You've got so much fight, so much fire in you, and he gets dizzy off the smouldering look in your eyes whenever you disagree with him. And disagree, you do: he wants to use lithium batteries, you want to use sodium. He wants to focus on reducing energy intake for the prototype, you want to focus on adding new components to it. He offers to order pizza for the group after a long day of work, you'll hear of nothing but sushi.

It drives him insane, but less in a way that makes him despise you, and more in one that makes him angrily rub his cock raw every night at the thought of that angry pout on your lips.

“-ayce! You alive in there?” comes your voice from the other room. He groans in frustration. This is a spectacular disaster in the making, and he's sitting front and center for it.

He's made his own bed and now he has to lie in it.

“You can come in!” he yells back with a noticeable crack in his voice. Not a great start.

His heart skips a beat when he hears the door creak open and close. The rustling of clothes being taken off one by one, the sound of pants dropping on the tile floor, and the unmistakable click of a bra being unhooked.

The door to the shower slides, and he feels you enter the confined space. It's ridiculous how close you are to him; he can smell the sweat off your skin, the faded scent of your perfume. His cock gives a small twitch and he glares down at it in betrayal. ‘Not now!’

You don't say a word as you turn on the faucet, the old plumbing in the walls hissing slightly before water starts to pour down on the both of you. He's not usually one for the cold, but it's refreshing, washing away the feeling of stickiness on his skin. He hums under his breath in delight; maybe it'll actually just be an awkward but relaxing shower, in the end.

The temperature rises slowly but surely, from cool to tepid, tepid to lukewarm, and then… it stops. He waits a few more seconds, throwing a discreet glance behind him to find you haven't fully turned the faucet on the hot side.

“Could you… put it warmer?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“It's plenty warm enough as is,” you reply flatly.

Now you're lying just to go against him; it's barely any warmer than if he was bathing outside in the lake.

“Why would you even fight for the hot water if you're not gonna use it?” he mumbles.

You moan dramatically in complaint: “Fine, princess, I'll bump it up.”

He sees your hand reach for the faucet, grab it… and bring it less than a centimetre closer to the warm side.

“Seriously?” he asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, seriously, now start washing your greasy hair before there's no hot water left at all,” you scold him, like he's nothing more than a snivelling toddler, and not a man twice your size.

Alright, enough is enough.

“What are you-” you protest at his sudden movement, his bicep pressing up against your shoulder.

“I'm turning the hot water on so I don't die in here,” he snaps back, trying to get a feel for the faucet while still looking away from you for the sake of modesty.

“Absolutely not, stay on your side!” you admonish him angrily. You attempt to push him back, pointedly refusing to look in his direction as you blindly slap his arm away. “Wait, Jayce-”

It happens too fast for either of you to figure out what's happening. One minute you're back to back, a respectable distance from one another, and the next you've both slipped, his arms boxing you into the narrow side of the shower with your legs bumping together.

Your eyes are locked into his for a few long, painful seconds. Neither of you are moving. You're trapped in a precarious game of jenga, where you can't even see which parts can safely be removed without you collapsing on each other.

“Whatever you do,” you exhale slowly. “Don't look down.”

You visibly regret your words as soon as you say them; you must have forgotten it’s Jayce you’re talking to.

He immediately looks down.

You put an arm up over your chest with an indignant yelp, and he quickly defends himself:

“Why would you tell me to not look down? That's like saying ‘Don't think of an elephant’!”

You're staying silent, your lips into a tight line, but he's certain you're thinking of an elephant right now. He smiles boastfully and you shoot him a deadly glare, before looking away to the side. It's the first time he's ever seen that awkward little blush on your cheeks without the conversation being about Viktor. That's a win in his book.

“It's fine,” you repeat once more like a broken record, and it’s definitely more meant to reassure yourself than to keep up a pleasant conversation with him. “I'll just… squish back against the wall while you close your eyes, and I'll direct you back to the other side. No problem.”

You sound less convinced than he's ever heard you before. He must have succeeded in turning the faucet to the side during the whole debacle, because the water has grown noticeably warmer, clouds of steam starting to form in the air. The atmosphere inside the shower is shifting ever so slightly.

He doesn't want to move.

He doesn't want to close his eyes.

The colour of your cheeks has grown darker from the heat, your lips slightly parted around every audible respiration.

“Would you wanna stay like this… if it was with Viktor?” he asks breathlessly.

You look back at him with genuine confusion, and he's honestly just as surprised as you are.

“What?”

“I…” It's getting harder to think. All his blood is rushing south, leaving him dangerously light-headed. What is he saying? “I… asked if you'd stay like this if it wasn't me in the shower. If it was Viktor.”

Your frown deepens. Your eyebrows always do this cute little thing where one furrows just slightly more than the other, but he's never gotten to observe it from this close. He lets his thoughts travel into dangerous territory. Do you wear that same expression when you're on your knees, sucking some other guy off? Would you look like that for Viktor?

“I don't see how that's relevant,” you retort harshly, but your gaze is elusive. You can't hide from him, not when his face is merely inches away from yours.

“Humor me,” he requests again.

“Fine, yeah, I would! Are you happy now?” you snap, eyes locking back into his with fiery resentment.

You're embarrassed.

He's never seen you rattled like this before. The energy in the shower is electric, now, coursing through his veins like a drug. ‘There will never be another moment like this’, the voice in the back of his head provides, syrupy sweet. It’s without a doubt the worst idea he’s ever had in his life, but he can’t stop the words from pouring out of his mouth.

“I could show you what he's into,” he almost whispers, the deafening sound of water hitting the ceramic flooring almost too loud for him to hear himself.

He knows that you've heard him with the way your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I mean, guys, we talk,” he explains, the words now coming out of him like the rambles of a madman. He’s in too deep to back out: it’s sink or swim. “About the stuff we like, the stuff we dream about. I could tell you what he's told me, and you can practice. On me.”

An eternity passes before you speak again, mouth just barely agape. But you're not yelling at him. You're not slapping him in the face. In fact, you're not even frowning; the expression you’re wearing is oddly vulnerable and open, like you're seeing him in a different light than you ever have before.

“You're fucking gross, Talis,” you breathe out slowly. “You really think I'm that easy?”

This*,* whatever this is, is so fragile he’s scared of shattering it by being too loud. Like he’s talking to a wild animal.

“I don't,” he promises in a low voice. “But I think you're smart, and dedicated, and you wouldn't let an opportunity to know something so personal about Viktor pass you by.”

The steam has fully blurred the glass panels around the both of you, and it feels like you're inside one of those snow globes Jayce's mother used to bring back for him from her travels when he was a kid. It's weirdly ethereal, warm and cold, frozen out of any known space and time. He’s never heard you stay silent this long, and the anticipation makes his throat burn.

“Fine,” you finally say. “But if you tell anyone-”

“Yeah I know, you'll cut my balls off,” he lets out with a small laugh, slightly delirious. He's half convinced he's dreaming. “Are we good?”

You nod without a word, shifting your head to the side slightly to avoid his gaze. He hesitantly brings a hand to your chin, holding it like you're made of glass. You don't recoil at his touch, so he gently presses it upwards, making you look at him again.

“Viktor likes it when people kiss him softly,” he smiles shyly, his heart beating as loudly in his chest as it did for his very first kiss. It’s like he’s watching a movie, like none of it is truly real. He closes the gap between the two of you slowly, waiting for you to pull away; but you don't. Your lips meet his, and it's everything he could have ever wanted.

You taste of rainwater and cherry chapstick. You’re soft in the way described by jazzy love songs, smooth and electric, a puzzle piece that just feels so unbelievably right. He wants to wrap his arms around you, hold you so tight this never has to come to an end, leave marks on your skin no shower could ever get rid of.

But he doesn't. He can't.

This is a fantasy that’s only animated by mutual gain. It’s not the climax of a romance film where the hero finally gets to kiss the heroine under the rain.

But God, does he want to pretend it is.

You pull away first, and he doesn't miss it: the millisecond where your eyes open and you look at him like he's the one you want to be kissing. The almost imperceptible moment where you're still imagining you're kissing Viktor and not him, where your irises shine brightly with so much happiness and love.

But it's already gone, like it never even happened, and you quickly wipe your lips with the back of your hand. You’re not in a beautiful London street amid a gentle downpour with your soulmate: you’re in a cramped shower in a motel, with a guy you don’t even vaguely care for.

“You should shave your stubble. It's annoying,” you mumble.

‘Viktor doesn't have one’, the sentence heavily implies. It stings, but he's not about to back off just from that either. Not when he's been given a chance like this.

“Viktor also likes it when kissing is a bit of a fight,” he adds, sounding much too eager and desperate for his own liking. “Biting, tugging hair, that kind of stuff.”

It's not a lie, per se; he's only ever seen Viktor kiss someone once, when they were undergrads. It was an end-of-semester party, and Viktor had had way too many vodka red bulls for a man of his stature and health. Jayce had found him on a couch, limbs entangled with a stranger who seemed equally as drunk, and absolutely devouring their face off.

Viktor had asked him to never let him near caffeinated cocktails again the next morning.

You look slightly skeptical, analyzing him for any signs of deception; it looks as though you find none, because you're the one who initiates this time, and there you are, the fiery woman he's fallen head over heels for.

You're going to war on him, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, savagely shoving your tongue in his mouth, one hand entangled in the hair at the back of his head while the other ferociously holds his throat in place, nails digging into his heartbeat. He responds eagerly, letting you mistreat him, encouraging you with muffled groans.

It hurts, and he wants it to never end. He can taste blood in his mouth, the metallic tinge making him dizzy, and he's so hard he could cum if you just touched his dick with a finger. He whines pathetically when you break the kiss for air, disoriented, a strand of saliva connecting you both still.

“A-aouch,” he can only manage to say jokingly.

You lean back against the tile wall, slightly breathless; you wipe away drops of red on your lip, smudging them down towards your chin, the look of a feral animal in your pupils. He feels his already rock-hard cock twitch. Hot.

“This is about what Viktor likes, not what you like. Toughen up, Talis,” you spit back.

Before he has time to formulate a reply, you're back on him, and now he's incapable of stopping himself from humping your thigh like an animal. You don't refuse him or push him away, even mercifully angelling your hip to the side to give him easier access. There's nothing but you, all over him, inside of him, tearing him apart and putting him back together. It's absolutely pathetic, and he knows it, but he can feel his release arriving in the pit of his stomach. He's wanted this for so long, there's just no way to delay it anymore.

It only takes a few more seconds before his orgasm hits him hard, the wave of pleasure making his whole body still as a plank, while you're still sucking harshly the vein on the side of his neck. He cries out once, broken and wanton, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice.

He comes down from the high in time to see the last of his cum painting your hip white before it gets washed away with the water. You detach yourself from him unceremoniously, putting some distance between your bodies with a frown.

“Did you just…?”

There's no room for pretending here. He's just had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his life from nothing but a fucking kiss from you. It's like he's a teenager all over again, face redder than a tomato and eyes escaping yours guiltily.

“You came. You came by just making out with me,” you repeat, visibly caught halfway between incredulity and mockery.

“I just haven't gotten laid in a while, that's it!” he justifies vehemently. He needs to change the topic quickly, or you’ll never let him live this down. “I'm always busy at the lab doing the paperwork you always skip out on!”

That thankfully seems to take your attention away from his premature accident; he's never been so grateful for your short temper.

“Seriously? You’re going to bring that up right now?” you bark, shoving him in the chest angrily.

He can still turn this around. He might not have much control over his first release, today ridiculously so, but he's been blessed with excellent stamina and a very short recovery period. Jayce is good at selling himself with speeches, and even though you're usually immune to anything that comes out of his mouth, he's willing to cheat this once and use the one chink in your armour he knows about.

“Do you want to know what Viktor likes or not? Because I haven't told you anything about what he wants in bed,” he tempts you in a tone of indifference.

Your silence speaks volumes; he's got you again. Yes, it's incredibly manipulative, and when this is over he's going to spend hours turning over in his bed and despising himself. He’s always believed in doing things the fair way, the right way, and that one day he’d manage to lower your defences and etch a place into your heart all of his own merits.

But Jayce is weak. So unbelievably weak. And the voice of temptation in the back of his mind insists you will never want him the same way he does you. It’s cowardly, and it’s spineless, and it goes against everything he’s ever been taught to value. Yet none of it seems to matter when he looks at you, bare in front of him, hair wet and sticking to your skin in heavy curls like a siren in the stormy sea. He’d sell his soul if it meant having you, and in more ways than one, he is.

What kind of man does that make him?

That’s a thought he’ll just have to keep for later.

Taglist Darlings: @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan, @urfavlarry , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth

[luumiinaa]

♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

the kids are going to be alright masterlist

๑ au synopsis: life as we know it (2010 film) au | when an unexpected accident leaves you and your blind date from five years ago to become caretakers of your mutual goddaughter, you are forced to learn how to navigate parenthood all while trying to balance work and social life. 

๑ pairing: professor!seungcheol x baker!reader (gn) ๑ genre: angst, fluff, humor | smau ๑ series warnings: car crash, cursing, death, consistent food and alcohol mentions, can be very emotionally heavy throughout series, ch 42 is suggestive ๑ status: completed ๑ started: 22.06.21 - 19.08.21

๑ a/n: this au is based very loosely on the 2010 film life as we know it. the characters are all in their mid-20s or very close to their 30s to match the film + be age appropriate. please don’t mind me if you find grammar errors. I have no respect for the english language.

wondernus’ main masterlist

profiles:[x][x][x]

chapters:

0. prologue

1. dr. yoon

2. rabbit plushie

3. “yes” or “no”

4. free cake?

5. I think I won a cake

6. this your ta?

7. I love finals week

8. no ipad babies allowed

9. #jeonwonwoodilfagenda

10. the plan

11. the funeral

12. we’re on a boat

13. the aftermath

14. court case day

15. we used to go out out

16. syllabus week

17. the pediatrician

18. karaoke boys

19. #yoonjeonghansugardaddy

20. social services 1/3

21. baby don’t like it (not the nct127 one)

22. overnight fame

23. we’re going to be on tv! 

24. right person, right time

25. meetings and interviews

26. a fever

27. conflicting feelings

28. enemies to lovers

29. social services 2/3

30. it’s complicated

31. uncles

32. aquarium date

33. midterms season

34. it hurts

35. jun’s trap card

36. the fight

37. closure

38. lilies

39. he’s not doing so hot

40. they need to bone

41. what’s happening?

42. endearment

43. social services 3/3

44. goodbyes

45. end

epilogue mini series:

[x] / [x] / [x]

Copyright © 2021 Wondernus. All rights reserved.

[thedensworld]

Family Outings | K. Sy

Genre: Fluff, parents au!

Summary: In a family outing, Soonyoung finally able to make a proper thanks to his mother after trying to keep up with his sons.

Welcome to The Densworld Kwon Soonyoung 🤍🌼

Soonyoung’s life became a whirlwind of joy and laughter ever since he started a family with you. From the moment he got married, he always imagined himself as a quintessential "girl dad." In his daydreams, he pictured himself wearing a sparkly tiara, cradling a tiny teacup, and proudly sporting mismatched nail polish in the favorite colors of his daughters. He thought he’d master the art of braiding hair and join endless tea parties with princess costumes and giggles filling the air.

But life had other plans. The moment his first son, Kwon Yootae, was born, he realized he was destined to be a father of sons. And not just any father—he was made for this. The role suited him so naturally it even surprised him.

Got a kid who needs to burn off endless energy? Enter dancer Soonyoung, always ready to tire them out with moves no one asked for.

Need a little discipline in the house? Strict Soonyoung appears, balancing warmth with authority in a way that commands respect.

Kid having a bad day and needing a laugh? Comedian Soonyoung is there to clown around, pulling faces, cracking jokes, and doing whatever it takes to make his sons’ smiles come back.

“I could do this forever,” Soonyoung said one day, grinning ear to ear. “Raising boys is the most fun I’ve ever had.”

“It’s because you always act like you’re their age,” Jihoon retorted, deadpan as always, delivering a truth Soonyoung couldn’t argue with.

Soonyoung’s sons, six-year-old Yootae and four-year-old Gitae, couldn’t be more different yet somehow mirrored him in distinct ways. Yootae, the eldest, was calm and reserved, much like you. He had a love for books that made your heart swell with pride, often curling up beside you for hours, reading quietly. But his need for attention? That came straight from Soonyoung. Yootae had a knack for saying the funniest things or sharing bizarre, almost unbelievable facts just to make people look his way. And when he succeeded, his little face lit up, a perfect blend of your quiet charm and Soonyoung’s flair for the spotlight.

Then there was Gitae, your little firecracker. Gitae was the embodiment of pure energy, a whirlwind of flips, jumps, and splits that seemed to defy the laws of physics. The only time he ever slowed down was when he caught a cold—and you and Soonyoung dreaded those moments more than anything. You’d much rather have him bouncing off walls than lying listlessly in bed. “He’s like me on a sugar rush,” Soonyoung joked once.

The group chat was always buzzing with stories of Soonyoung’s adventures as a dad. One night, he shared an anecdote that left the members of Seventeen in stitches.

“You should see Gitae during family mafia games,” Soonyoung said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s just like me—so good at bluffing, it’s scary. Sometimes he gives me goosebumps.”

“Wait,” Jun interjected, shocked. “Did you just call your son a freak?”

“Well, he is! In the best way!” Soonyoung laughed, completely unbothered.

Raising boys had turned Soonyoung’s world upside down in the most beautiful way. It wasn’t what he initially envisioned, but it was even better. The bond he shared with Yootae and Gitae was special, filled with laughter, chaos, and tender moments that made him grateful every single day. Watching Soonyoung thrive as a dad, you couldn’t help but smile. He was the kind of father who made parenting look like an adventure, and your family was all the better for it.

"Dad, promise me you'll watch my drum recital next week," Yootae said, his small face filled with determination as he walked into the kitchen where Soonyoung was helping you prepare dinner.

Soonyoung glanced at him, smiling warmly. "Of course, I’ll be there. But how about you help me with something first?" He handed Yootae the utensils and gestured toward the dining table. "Set the table for me, champ."

As Yootae dutifully walked off to complete his task, Gitae was sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to a video of one of Soonyoung's dance practices. Mimicking every move with astonishing precision, he twirled, jumped, and hit every beat as if he were part of the team.

“Gitae, great move!” Soonyoung called out, beaming with pride as he caught sight of his younger son nailing one of the harder steps. Turning back to you, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a grin. “What do you think about him becoming an idol someday?”

“That’d be good,” you replied with a knowing smirk, stirring the soup bubbling on the stove. “We’ll send him to dance practice every time you bribe him with candy.” The sharp edge of sarcasm in your tone wasn’t lost on Soonyoung, and he winced at the memory.

You were referring to the night he’d given the boys candy—secretly, of course—before heading out to work, leaving you alone to deal with the sugar-induced chaos that followed. It had taken hours to calm them down and even longer to get them to sleep.

Soonyoung walked over to you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. Sliding his arms around your waist from behind, he rested his chin lightly on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby. No more candy without your consent. I promise.”

“That includes donuts too,” you shot back, though your voice softened as his warmth melted away your annoyance.

Soonyoung nodded solemnly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek. “And donuts. Noted.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his sincerity, even if you knew his mischievous streak wouldn’t vanish overnight. You were strict about what your kids consumed for good reason. You worked hard to ensure their meals were balanced, nutrient-packed, and beneficial to their growing bodies. Too much sugar turned them into tiny whirlwinds of energy, leaving them cranky and impossible to settle when bedtime rolled around.

"Yootae, don’t forget to line up the chopsticks neatly!" you called, glancing at your eldest, who was now carefully arranging the cutlery.

“Okay, Mom!” he responded, his voice cheerful.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Gitae attempting to replicate a more complicated move from the video, almost toppling over but recovering with a laugh. Soonyoung released you and clapped his hands in encouragement. “That’s it, Gitae! You’ve got this!”

In the middle of dinner, Soonyoung’s phone buzzed on the counter. He picked it up, his face lighting up when he saw who was calling. “It’s Mom,” he said, quickly answering. “Hi, Mom! What’s going on?”

His mother’s cheerful voice filled the room, audible even to you and the kids. “Hi, sweetheart! We’re planning a little family outing next weekend, but this time, we’re keeping it simple—just in the backyard. Your sister is coming too, and we’re hoping to see everyone there. It’s been too long since we’ve all been together!”

“Backyard barbecue?” Soonyoung guessed, grinning as he leaned back in his chair.

“Exactly! Dad’s already excited to fire up the grill, and I’m planning to make everyone’s favorite dishes. You should come early so the boys can play in the garden,” his mom said.

“That sounds perfect!” Soonyoung replied enthusiastically, his voice a little louder than usual as excitement bubbled through him. “The boys will love it. We’ll definitely be there!” His grin widened as he placed his phone down, and it was clear he was already imagining the day—the laughter of children running through his parents’ backyard, the smell of grilled meat wafting in the air, and the warmth of family all around.

He turned to you, his eyes bright and full of joy, as if the plan had already taken shape in his mind. “It’ll be great!” he said, his hands gesturing animatedly. “A cozy backyard gathering, all the cousins playing together, Mom’s food, Dad’s barbecue skills—how could it get any better?”

You smiled faintly at his enthusiasm, but the feeling of guilt that had been sitting in the pit of your stomach all day now weighed heavier. The truth you’d been putting off telling him clawed its way forward, demanding to be spoken. You shifted slightly in your seat, the clinking of your chopsticks against your bowl breaking the silence.

“It does sound lovely,” you started, choosing your words carefully. “But I have a work commitment that weekend. I don’t think I can make it.”

The happy buzz in the room dimmed just slightly. Soonyoung paused, processing your words, before flashing you an understanding smile. “That’s okay,” he said, his tone reassuring. “I’ll take the boys, and we’ll represent the Kwon family in full force. You can catch up with us after your work is done.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, guilt tugging at you. “That’s a lot to handle on your own, especially with Gitae’s energy.”

Soonyoung leaned closer, his signature playful grin returning. “Have you forgotten who I am? I’m Kwon Soonyoung—master entertainer, expert dad, and barbecue connoisseur. I’ve got this.”

Yootae, who had been quietly listening, looked up with a hint of concern. “But, Mom, you won’t be there to eat Grandma’s pie with us.”

Your heart sank, and you reached out to hold his little hand. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll miss that, too. But I promise we’ll have a special day just for us soon, okay? I’ll even make your favorite pie.”

Yootae nodded slowly, his lips forming a small smile. “Okay, Mom.”

Meanwhile, Gitae, who had been more focused on his plate than the conversation, suddenly perked up. “Can we play tag in Grandpa’s garden, Dad? I’m really fast!”

“Fast? Ha! I’m faster!” Soonyoung teased, ruffling his youngest son’s hair. “We’ll see who’s the fastest in the family on Saturday.”

“And no candy!” you interjected pointedly, giving Soonyoung a mock glare.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful smirk on his face. “No candy, no donuts—scout’s honor. But, uh, maybe just one marshmallow from the barbecue…?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at his antics.

As the evening wound down, the house quieted with only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the settling walls. You had just finished tucking the boys into bed, each of them fast asleep after the day’s adventures. Soonyoung lingered by the doorway of their room, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of their tiny chests as they dreamed.

“They’re finally out,” you whispered with a small smile, stepping away and closing the door gently behind you.

Soonyoung turned to you, his expression soft in the dim light of the hallway. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, slipping his arm around your shoulders as you walked back to the living room together.

You leaned into him, letting out a quiet sigh. “I just wish I could be there this weekend. I hate missing out on moments like these.”

He stopped you in your tracks, turning you to face him. His hands rested lightly on your waist as his thumbs traced soothing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “Don’t feel bad, okay?” His voice was warm and gentle, and the way he looked at you made it impossible to doubt his sincerity. “You’re doing your best. You always do. I’ll make sure the boys have a great time, and we’ll send you lots of pictures. You won’t miss a thing.”

The guilt weighing on you began to ease as his words settled in. “Thank you,” you murmured, resting your forehead against his chest.

Soonyoung wrapped both arms around you now, holding you close. For a moment, you stood there, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the moment. “You know,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, a playful edge sneaking into his voice, “with the boys asleep and the house so quiet… we have a rare opportunity here.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “An opportunity for what?”

He grinned, his gaze dipping just slightly as his hands slid down to rest on your hips. “To remind you how much I love you,” he said, his voice lower now, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek.

A soft laugh escaped you, but your heart raced at the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. “Oh, really? And how do you plan to do that?” you teased, your hands resting on his chest.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as he whispered, “I have a few ideas.”

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his touch grounding and electrifying all at once. The worries of the day melted away as you lost yourself in the moment, his presence overwhelming in the best way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his grin was unapologetically mischievous. “Feel better now?”

You chuckled softly, your cheeks warm as you nodded. “Much better.”

“Good,” he said, stealing one last quick kiss before stepping back and taking your hand. “Now, how about I make us some tea, and we see where this rare quiet evening takes us?”

You followed him, a smile tugging at your lips as you realized, once again, just how lucky you were to have someone like Soonyoung.

*

Soonyoung climbed into his car, exhaling deeply as if he’d already run a marathon, even though it was barely morning. Behind him, the boys were buckled into their car seats, brimming with energy and excitement. Their chatter filled the car, contrasting sharply with Soonyoung’s tired demeanor. The morning had been chaotic, to say the least.

Your work agenda had started earlier than theirs, leaving Soonyoung to manage the boys’ bubbling enthusiasm alone. Thankfully, you’d packed their bags the night before, neatly organizing everything they’d need for the outing. At least that spared Soonyoung from the added panic of forgetting something crucial amidst the chaos.

“Gitae, grandmother wants to see you in this shirt. Let’s put it on,” Soonyoung had pleaded earlier, holding up a neatly folded shirt. But his youngest had been too engrossed in his impromptu performance of Maestro, twirling dramatically in the living room.

“Yootae! Are you ready?” Soonyoung had called out to his eldest, only to freeze in disbelief when he entered the room. Yootae, still wrapped in a towel, was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a bottle of lotion beside him untouched.

“Did you put on lotion yet?” Soonyoung asked, stepping closer.

Yootae immediately pumped the bottle, rubbing lotion onto his arms with exaggerated slowness, his wide eyes locked on his dad as if performing under pressure.

Soonyoung sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. “Alright, let’s just have a light breakfast, shall we?”

At the breakfast table, a simple bowl of cereal finally bought Soonyoung a few moments of peace. The boys sat quietly for once, munching away. It was enough time for him to catch his breath, gather his thoughts, and—most importantly—get himself ready.

As they settled in the car, Gitae wriggled with excitement. “I’m going to beat Leena in tag!” he declared confidently.

Yootae smirked, ever the realist. “Leena is faster than you, Gitae. And she has longer legs.”

“My legs got longer after dancing to Maestro. Right, Dad?” Gitae grinned, looking to Soonyoung for validation.

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you win.”

When they arrived at his parents’ house, the boys jumped out of the car with boundless energy, running straight into their grandfather’s open arms. Soonyoung carried the bags inside, his tired smile widening at the warmth of his father’s greeting.

“Y/n couldn’t make it?” his mother asked, noticing her absence.

“No,” Soonyoung replied, setting the bags down on the couch. “Her schedule pulled her out earlier than expected today.”

His mother chuckled knowingly. “You got them ready all by yourself, didn’t you?”

Soonyoung nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good job, my son.” She patted his head affectionately before heading to the kitchen.

Not long after, his sister arrived with her husband and their daughters. The cousins immediately broke off into their groups—Soonyoung’s sons sprinting around the yard with their grandfather while his nieces calmly arranged their dolls on a picnic blanket.

Soonyoung settled on a bench beside his father, watching the kids. His mother and sister prepared the meat for the barbecue nearby, their laughter carrying on the breeze.

“Gitae looks so much like Y/n,” his father commented, nodding toward the younger boy.

“Everyone says that,” Soonyoung replied, smiling as he watched Gitae run across the yard.

“But he’s got your energy,” his father added with a laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

“I’m going to look like you when I get older,” Soonyoung teased, nudging his father.

His mother overheard and quickly interjected, “Don’t. Don’t be. Don’t embarrass your wife.”

Soonyoung burst out laughing, shaking his head as he helped his sister arrange plates and utensils. Despite their rocky relationship growing up, he’d found a sense of camaraderie with her since starting a family of his own.

“What’s it like having daughters, noona?” he asked, glancing at her girls, who were still engrossed in their dolls.

“I don’t get tired much,” she admitted, pointing out the difference. “Look at them—calm and quiet. Meanwhile, your sons…”

Soonyoung followed her gaze to Yootae and Gitae, who were racing around with their grandfather, Gitae screaming gleefully while Yootae laughed. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Getting them ready this morning was my biggest achievement,” he confessed. “It’s usually Y/n who handles that.”

His sister laughed, “They didn’t listen to you, did they?”

“Not even once! I told Yootae to put on lotion and underwear while I bathed Gitae, but when I checked, he was still sitting there with the lotion bottle.” Soonyoung rubbed his face in exasperation.

Their conversation was interrupted by a piercing cry. Gitae was on the ground, clutching his knee and wailing.

Soonyoung sighed deeply, already on his feet. “That’s alright, we’ve got you,” he said softly as he crouched beside his son, examining the scraped knee.

“It hurts!” Gitae sobbed, pointing to the bruise.

“I know, buddy,” Soonyoung said, scooping him up in his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re my strong little guy, right?”

Gitae sniffled, nodding slightly.

The day pressed on, and the chaos only seemed to grow. After cleaning Gitae’s scraped knee and soothing his tears with a superhero bandage, Soonyoung barely had time to take a sip of water before Yootae tripped over the garden hose, landing in the dirt. Another round of comforting, brushing off dirt, and reminding him to be careful followed.

Meanwhile, Gitae had already managed to get himself into another predicament, climbing the low branches of the cherry blossom tree despite Soonyoung’s repeated warnings. By the time Soonyoung pulled him down safely, the boys’ shirts were dirt-streaked, their hair sticking up in wild tufts.

“I told you both to stay out of trouble!” Soonyoung exclaimed, his voice tinged with exasperation as he wiped sweat from his brow.

“But, Dad, we were just playing!” Yootae defended, wide-eyed as if the entire mess was beyond his control.

“Yeah, and I’m Spider-Man!” Gitae added enthusiastically, flexing his little arms as though they could shoot webs.

Soonyoung slumped onto the patio bench, exhausted, as he watched the boys dart off again, their energy seemingly endless. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a groan. His mother, who had been quietly observing from the grill, walked over with a knowing smile and set a cup of iced tea in front of him.

“You’re just like them, you know,” she said, sitting beside him.

Soonyoung looked up, surprised. “What? Me?”

His mother nodded, chuckling softly. “When you were their age, you were exactly the same—always running around, climbing trees, getting into every kind of trouble imaginable. I couldn’t take my eyes off you for a second.”

Soonyoung laughed weakly, leaning back against the bench. “That sounds about right.”

“You’d get scrapes on your knees every other day, and you never stopped moving,” she continued, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “Your father was just as tired as you are now, and I’d always say, ‘One day, you’ll understand.’ Well, here you are.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he watched Yootae and Gitae chase their cousins across the yard. “I don’t know how you did it, Mom. This is exhausting. I miss Y/n so much right now.”

His mother gave him a warm smile, patting his knee. “Of course you do. It’s always easier when you have someone by your side. But you’re doing great, Soonyoung. You got the boys here in one piece, and they’re happy. That’s what matters.”

Soonyoung smiled faintly, grateful for her reassurance, but the ache of missing you lingered. He thought about how you always handled the chaos with such grace, calming the boys with a single look or turning their tantrums into laughter. You’d have known exactly how to manage Gitae’s climbing spree or Yootae’s dirt-covered mishap.

His mother’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear. You’re learning, just like we did. And for what it’s worth, you’re a better dad than your father and I ever were at your age.”

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “I doubt that, Mom. But thanks.”

As he glanced at his boys again, he couldn’t help but smile. They were a handful, yes, but they were also a reflection of you and him—a mix of mischief, love, and boundless energy.

His mother stood, placing her hands on her hips as she looked out at the yard. “Now, go check on your boys before they turn that garden into a battlefield.”

Soonyoung groaned, standing up with a stretch. “Back to the front lines, huh?”

His mother laughed. “Parenting never stops, Soonyoung. But don’t forget to call Y/n later. She’d love to hear about how you survived the day.”

He grinned, already planning to call you the moment he could steal a quiet moment. He needed to hear your voice, to tell you just how much he appreciated you and missed having you by his side. For now, though, he had two little whirlwinds to manage.

*

“Hi, beautiful,” Soonyoung greeted you with a warm smile as you walked through the door. His voice was soft, and you noticed he was already in his pajamas—a pair of satin ones you hadn’t seen him wear in ages. They were expensive, gifted by you on your anniversary, and seeing him in them now made you suppress a laugh.

“You finally decided to wear those?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, running a hand through his slightly messy hair. “Figured tonight was special.”

You stepped inside, slipping off your shoes, and immediately noticed something unusual. The house was too quiet—eerily quiet. “Where are the boys? I don’t hear them.,” you said, glancing around as though they might pop out from behind the couch.

Soonyoung raised his eyebrows, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Well… I intentionally—unintentionally left them at my mom’s. They wanted to have a sleepover, and since tomorrow’s Sunday, I figured why not?”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, and then a burst of laughter escaped you. “What? You left them with your mom? Oh my gosh, baby!”

He laughed along with you, closing the door behind you and grabbing your things. “Hey, they practically begged me. I video-called them earlier, and they seemed fine. Besides, they wanted to stay with their cousins. It’s good for them!”

You plopped down on the couch, still laughing, and Soonyoung joined you, setting your things on the coffee table. “Your poor mom,” you muttered, shaking your head. “She’s going to have a tough time wrangling five grandchildren tonight.”

“I know!” Soonyoung said, his voice full of mock guilt. “I even told her that, but she insisted it’d be fine. She’s a saint, honestly.”

You leaned back into the cushions, letting out a contented sigh. “It feels so strange to have the house to ourselves. Weird, but also… kind of nice.”

Soonyoung looked at you with a grin, his hand brushing against yours. “Right? I felt the same way before you got back. It’s like we’re dating again, just the two of us. But then I also started feeling guilty, like I was abandoning my kids or something.”

You laughed at his dramatic tone, turning to face him. “I feel relieved, but at the same time, it’s like, am I a bad mom for enjoying this?”

Soonyoung chuckled, pulling you into his arms. “If you are, then so am I. Today was rough, baby. The boys were a handful. I even performed a bow to my mom—the deep New Year’s bow we always do—just to thank her for taking care of me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “No way. You didn’t.”

“I did,” Soonyoung said with a straight face, though his lips twitched with amusement. “I was that desperate. Honestly, I might perform one for you after this because I owe you for doing this every day.”

You laughed so hard your sides hurt, leaning into his chest. “You’re unbelievable. So, what was harder—getting them ready this morning or keeping them out of trouble all day?”

“Both!” he exclaimed dramatically, resting his chin on top of your head. “Yootae wouldn’t put on lotion, and Gitae was running around shirtless, singing ‘Maestro.’ I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, still smiling. “Well, you survived. And honestly, I’m proud of you, Love. I really am.”

He looked at you with such softness that it made your heart flutter. “Thanks, baby. But I think I’ll stick to choreography and leave the morning routines to you.”

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Deal. But tonight, you’re all mine. No interruptions, no kids.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I like the sound of that.”

Soonyoung's arms tightened around you, a playful glint in his eyes as he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “You know,” he began, his voice dripping with mischief, “after today, I’ve been thinking…”

You raised an eyebrow, already bracing for whatever ridiculous thought was about to leave his mouth.

He smirked, his tone mock-serious. “Maybe we should try for a daughter. I heard they’re way less frantic to raise. Calm, quiet, reasonable—can you imagine that?”

You let out an incredulous laugh, lightly smacking his chest. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on parenting daughters because your sister’s kids play with dolls instead of climbing furniture?”

“Exactly,” he replied without missing a beat. “I mean, just think about it. No running around, no wrestling matches over who gets the last donut, no dramatic performances of ‘Hit’ at 8 a.m.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Uh-huh. And who’s going to handle the teenage drama when your calm, quiet daughter slams her door in your face?”

Soonyoung’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered with a sly smile. “That’s where you come in, baby. You’re the expert in dealing with drama. I’ll just be the cool dad who lets her eat donuts and—”

“Stop right there.” You cut him off, laughing as you poked his chest.

He laughed along with you, leaning down until his nose brushed against yours. “Okay, okay. But admit it—you’d love to see a mini-you running around here. With your big, beautiful eyes, your sharp wit…”

“And my temper when you don’t listen?” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “She’d keep me in line, just like you do.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against yours. “But you love me anyway.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to think about it. “I guess I do. But if we’re trying for a daughter, you’re taking the night shift for the first three years.”

“Deal,” Soonyoung whispered, sealing the agreement with a kiss. “Now, where should we start our daughter project?”

Your laughter echoed through the house, blending perfectly with the warmth of his embrace, the quiet night ahead promising nothing but love and playful chaos—just the way you liked it.

[marvelous-llama]

Seventeen recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

the cake in the back by @toruro

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 3.8k) baker!reader, single parent!Sungcheol, acquaintances to lovers - fluff, smut cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.

Dream Ride by @bambikisss

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 4.3k) strangers to lovers - fluff?, smut You haven't been able to sleep much lately, so you've been driving around at night to help ease your mind. However, you keep passing by the same jet black colored motorcycle every night, which then keeps showing up in your dreams. So when you stop one night to get gas and see the same motorcycle stopped nearby, you decide to meet the man under the helmet.

Crossing Boundaries by @wonusite

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 8.6k) nanny!reader, boss x employee to lovers, mutual pining - fluff, smut Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional.

Let Me Love You by @gyuwoncheol

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 5.3k) established relationship - fluff, smut You just want to shower Cheol with all the love and softness in the world and he’s determined to do the same.

Sentinel´s Serenade by @starlightxsvt

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 29.5k) bodyguard!Sungcheol, heiress!reader - angst, drama, romance, hurt/comfort, smut As you start digging up an accident that has been brushed under the rug, you make an enemy who is out to get you no matter what. Amidst all the chaos you develop feelings for your bodyguard who has built walls of steel around him.

Black Suit by @gyuranhae

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 5.3k) mafia AU, established relationship - smut You just couldn't help if you husband looked so good on an all black suit.

Seungcheol´s Letters by @wonustars

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 23.5k) best friends > fwb > lovers, university AU, slowburn - angst, fluff, smut all it took was one kiss and suddenly you and Seungcheol’s friendship has turned upside down. In other words: exploring how far the boundaries of your lifelong friendship can take the two of you, you and Seungcheol try to navigate what it's like to be friends with benefits. just because you're secrelty in love with each other won't fuck everything up...right?

Like You Do by @hannieehaee

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 7.8k) brother´s best friend, enemies to lovers - angst, fluff, smut when your brother's best friend suddenly reveals his newfound crush on you, you find yourself at a crossroads, thinking back to your own unrequited crush on him from back in middle school, making you wonder if you should be the better person and give him a chance.

off the market by @gyuzgrl

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 4.5k) strangers to lovers - fluff, smut You have a crush on your favourite customer. He's big and kind and pretty and god the things you wanted to do to him were unholy. Little do you know, he feels the exact same way.

all for you by @gfcheol

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 4.6k) friends to lovers - fluff, smut, hurt/comfort your boyfriend, wonwoo, just broke up with you to be with someone else. heartbroken and self esteem shattered, you sink into a hole of sadness, but luckily your best friend seungcheol knows the best remedy for you to stop thinking about your ex.

babymaker by @onlyseokmins

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 7.9k) fwb to lovers, roommates to lovers - fluff, angst(ish), smut

series

Elevator by @wongyuuu

Jihoon x fem!reader, Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 10k + 17k) soulmate AU - angst, fluff, hurt/comfort in a world where soulmates exists, jihoon is faced with difficult decisions part 1, part 2

[hannieehaee]

Svt as tropes

seventeen as tropes

content: crushes, fluff, some of these are idol!aus (as in the member is an idol, not reader), etc.

wc: 884

a/n: these are just tropes that come to mind when i think of each member. i tried to keep it varied and original <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

enemies to lovers - he seems like he can be maybe a lil bit cocky at times (with reason, i mean have you seen him ..), so i think itd be possible to start off the wrong foot with him. he's also pretty stubborn, so pair with him another stubborn individual and you have a dragged out love story that begins with rivals and ends with a very fiery relationship.

jeonghan -

coworkers to lovers - jeonghan seems like an extremely charming and interesting guy who doesnt even have to try. im 100% sure people who work around him fall for him every single day. i think he'd be very entertained by the idea of crushing on a staff member/coworker. it would make him look forward to work and make him always seek you out while on the job.

joshua -

childhood friends to lovers - he seems the type that would keep a special someone in his heart for a very long time, even if it was just as friends. leaving his home country so young, the distance would make him realize his feelings and end up with that one special person from back home.

jun -

arranged marriage - okay not exactly arranged marriage but more so him being with someone his parents introduce him to! he seems to be a huge family oriented guy, so i see him ending up with someone his parents may have thought would be perfect for him. it'd start off as him giving it a chance to please his parents but ending up actually falling for this person.

soonyoung -

sunshine vs. grump - this concept isnt necessarily 100% black and white to me. but still i think maybe he would fall for someone who has a very contrasting personality his very positive and over the top demeanor. he'd enjoy the back and forth in which he'd act ridiculously to get his s/o to react while they pretended to be annoyed by him.

wonwoo -

long distance - idk if this is a trope ?? but i think wonwoo's love absolutely transcends any and every obstacle imaginable. i think he would be the definition of distance makes the heart grow fonder. he would cherish every single moment he got to be with you, constantly yearning for you any second he was away from you.

jihoon -

opposites attract - as someone who seems to keep to himself a lot and is a bit of a homebody, i think he would easily fall for someone who got him out of his comfort zone and got him to discover parts of himself he didnt know about before. would adore an s/o who was louder in nature and livelier, feeling some sort of nurturing sense in him come out whenever he was around them.

seokmin -

friends to lovers - its a classic for a reason! i cant understand how people dont constantly fall for seokmin but im 100% sure that if he had a crush on a friend of his, he would easily be able to charm them enough for them to reciprocate the crush. there would be a period of time of that cute back and forth in which he tried to 'court' them, ending up together in the end.

mingyu -

chance encounter - watching nana tour ive loved seeing how insanely outgoing and likable by strangers he is so i think that he would be the type to incidentally meet a person and subsequently fall for them. however, mingyu is a hopeless romantic so he wouldnt allow for this to be his one and only meeting. he would go to hell and back to reconnect.

minghao -

language barrier - ok ik this isnt actually a trope but i really do see minghao taking interest in a person who doesnt speak his language. i think that if a foreigner (in this case someone who does not speak korean or chinese) caught his attention, he would not be deterred by the language barrier and still seek them out. he would maybe even be more intrigued by the concept of communicating despite the barrier.

seungkwan -

found family - seungkwan is one of the sweetest and most likable people alive. im sure there's tons of people out there who consider him part of their found family. i think he'd be the type to become super close with that special someone (to the point of considering them as precious as his own family) only to eventually fall for them (and have them fall right back bc i mean its boo so how would you not fall for him!).

vernon -

class difference - i really see him falling for someone who's not in the industry. just someone who is an average person with an average life. this would obviously come with its complications, but i think he would enjoy the contrast between your lives and would live a regular life through your own.

chan -

mutual pining - contrary to popular opinion, i believe chan has insane rizz. however! i think he would be the type to have negative rizz when he has a crush on someone. he's still impossible to not fall for though, so this would lead to him and his future s/o to pine for each other for years, not realizing that their friendship could be more if one of then would just step up and confess.

[jeonjcngkook]

industry baby: bts jeon jungkook collab

lights, cameras, action!

turn the lights down low and the music up for the newst collab to hit mainstream screens around you. whether you’re reading about this through the hottest magazine in town, hearing about it through the newest tracks to hit streaming platforms or watching it all go down on demand; immerse yourself with the incredible seventeen new fics from our talented writers that are bound to be the newest talk of the town. afterall, we’re all part of the industry, baby.

title: part time lover | by @sketchguk​

pairing: investigative journalist!jungkook x daycare-teacher!reader

genre(s)&au(s): smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jungkook. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jungkook desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: the never ending man | by @joheunsaram

pairing: animator!jungkook x journalist!reader

genre(s)&au(s): ghibli studios au, documentary au, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, maybe smut

summary: reclusive award-winning animator jeon jungkook is known for works of whimsy, creating heart warming epithets that provoke reflection of the world. when the news of his early retirement shocks the world, you decide to bring the man behind the pen to the forefront, documenting his last work. his fans deserve to know him, much like you do. after all, in his ten years in the industry, you're the only journalist he has ever deemed worthy of interviews.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: malevolence | by @jeonjcngkook​​

pairing: vampire-pornstar!jungkook x human!freader

genre(s)&au(s): modern vampire au, porn star au, smut, pwp, predator pray

summary: in a world where vampires live amongst the human world, it is strictly forbidden that hybrid relationships exist between the two. but for jungkook, bending the rules is just as much fun as bending his women; so when the opportunity for him to break more laws occurs, it only makes sense that he hunts you down to join him on set.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: hi, baby | by @sailoryooons​

pairing: pornstar!jungkook x pornstar!freader

genre(s)&au(s): strangers to lovers, pornstar au, pwp, slow burn if you squint

summary: from the moment jungkook met you on set, he was head over heels. the only problem? you weren’t scripted as his partner for any of his sex scenes. but there would always be another chance to sleep with you - right? after months of bad luck,things going awry, and mismatched schedules, jungkook finally gets the invitation to participate in an episode of the aphrodite house where he’s asked to pick his favorite pornstar to film with. it’s his dream come true and he can’t wait to have you.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: chatroom | by @chryblossomjjk​

pairing: nerdy-virgin!jungkook x camgirl!reader

genre(s)&au(s): smut, a lil fluff and humor, strangers-to-lovers

summary: absolutely ravenous and sexually frustrated, jungkook decides to join a chatroom.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: best lover | by @joonberriess

pairing: stalker!jungkook x stalker-cam!girl

genre(s)&au(s): yandere, smut, angst

summary: a devoted fan leaves you in confusion and terror when he starts appearing outside of your streams. but whoever said you were innocent too?

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: ambivalence | by @mercurygguk​

pairing: pornstar!jungkook x pornstar!fem reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies to lovers au, pornstar au, angst/smut, tiny bits of fluff

summary: you and jungkook used to be a thing before your careers took off but it ended badly, the result being hatred for one another. now, the universe is sick and twisted in all sorts of fucked up ways and brings the two of you back into each other’s lives; on the set for a porn video.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: tired of pretending | by @gimmethatagustd​

pairing: musician!jungkook x ghostwriter(f)!reader

genre(s)&au(s): non-idol musician, coworkers to lovers, slowburn, smut, fluff, angst

summary: jungkook is known for his sensual pop songs that profess a love so deep fans regularly speculate who might be the recipient of his affection. outsiders don’t know that you’re the one writing his songs as his ghostwriter. while jungkook gains fame and fortune by unknowingly singing love songs written about your love for him, you feel yourself growing even more invisible.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: industry baby | by @joonberriess

pairing: solo-artist!jungkook x prissy-brat!reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies w/benefits au, smut, small amounts of angst

summary: solo artist jeon jungkook has always been one for controversy despite being one of the best out there. his notoriety for drinking, partying, and breaking hearts reaches a all time high when he drops a diss track, however not just aiming for the industry, but for you too. you don't know what's worse, him revealing that you fuck on the low or him calling you the "industry's baby".

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: rolling stone | by @kooktrash​

pairing: idol!jungkook x non idol!reader

genre(s)&au(s): idol au, friends-w-benefits, smut, angst

summary: he was a rolling stone with no ties to anyone or any place and that’s how he and his fans liked it. now he’s found you and it’s never been this hard to convince someone that he’ll stay.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: happily ever after | by @kookingtae​

pairing: shy!jungkook x freader

genre(s)&au(s): reality dating show au, angst, smut, fluff

summary: previously on a reality dating show, you had brushed off fellow contestant jungkook’s crush on you in favor of the exciting, toxic fling you had with taehyung. but now that the cameras have stopped rolling and you’re back to spending everyday life with the boy you friendzoned on national television, you’re faced with the realization that maybe you made a mistake. maybe reality tv isn’t reality at all.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: a case of you | by @jeonqkooks

pairing: actor!jungkook x actress!reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies-to-lovers, slight fluff, angst, slight smut

summary: jeon jungkook is the show business’ golden boy ever since he rose to fame seven years ago. with a face sculpted by the gods, as well as oozing charisma and talent, it’s no surprise that he turns heads and steals hearts wherever he goes. but underneath that facade of the perfect man whom everyone adores and the highly acclaimed actor that every casting director wants to book, there are hushed whispers left and right that jungkook is a nightmare to work with. as the actress starring alongside jungkook in his upcoming drama, you have a front row seat to see if he’ll prove the rumors false, or if he’ll make the biggest project of your career go up in flames.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: love spilled canvas | by @caelesjjk​

pairing: painter!jungkook x actress!freader

genre(s)&au(s): friends to lovers, angst, romance, smut

summary: fame isn’t everything it’s made out to be. the pressure to be perfect. the highest of expectations weighing on your shoulders, it all becomes too much to bear. when it all comes crashing down, you seek out the person who has always felt like home and take up refuge in his gorgeous apartment that’s more than far enough away from your movie star life. jungkook is a painter. the most talented one that you know. but what you don’t know, is that he’s been in love with you for years. so of course he lets you stay with him for as long as you need. but when he finally lands an exhibit at a very high end gallery after you’ve gone back home, the last person he expects to see walk in is you.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: sticky situationship | by @rkivian​

pairing: tv host!jungkook x reader

genre(s)&au(s): fluff, crime au, crack, smut, great pretender au, the ugly truth au

summary: it isn’t lost on you, your local, hot shot tv host trying to distract you from the fact that he isn’t who everyone thinks he is, because he’s doing quite a terrible job. but… you might as well take advantage of it.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: not like the movies | by @here4btsfics​

pairing: screenwriter!jungkook x reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies-to-lovers, angst, smut, fluff

summary: the biggest mistake you ever made was in college when you hooked up with the one and only jeon jungkook at a graduation party. you two had hated one another since high school when he betrayed you, and sleeping with him was a moment of weakness. fast forward five years later, you’re a successful screenwriter, mainly for romcoms, and you just got an amazing opportunity to help write for a movie for a major production company. the only problem? jungkook was signed onto the project as well and you two have to work together without killing one another in the process.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: PR disaster | by @ughcore​

pairing: actor!jungkook x publicist!reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies to lovers, smut, comedy

summary: after a slow year in the business, you unexpectedly find yourself employed by Hit Ent, tasked with the unfortunate role of taming infamous rake jeon jungkook in preparation for a movie role that could make his career. with the intention of cleaning up his image, you aim to find him a respectable fake girlfriend, hardly expecting to find the task a whole lot more challenging than it seems - especially when you get to know the guy behind the headlines…

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

hosted by: @jeonjcngkook​ & @mercurygguk | collab theme by: @mercurygguk​

[therealstacyfakename]

My Favorite 9-1-1 Fics of 2024

This year I read more fanfic than ever before so there's quite a few here. I just want to shout out these fic authors who brought me joy in 2024 and give you fic recs. Sorted by pairing (or lack thereof, there are gen fics in here) with word counts and summaries!

🔥 next to fics that feature a lot of smut or the smut was really memorable.

Buck/Eddie:

i found love where it wasn't supposed to be by chromatophorica - 12k words

Eddie thinks Bobby is Buck's dad when he joins the station. Assumptions lead to miscommunication.

Monday (You Could Fall Apart) by Pansys_goth_gf - 12k words

Evan Buckley enlists in the army fresh out of high school and falls in love with his best friend. Things spiral from there. From the prompt “Secretly Married”

if it weren’t for second chances by alasse - 47k words

When Buck doesn’t save Daniel, the Buckleys put him in foster care. Seventeen years later, Bobby meets a tall, lanky kid who can’t stop eating his pancakes at a church breakfast, and he gives him a phone number and an unconditional offer of help. A story about how Buck finds a chosen family, and with a few twists and turns, eventually gets to the 118, meets Eddie Diaz, and maybe finds himself a second and a third (or, an Evan Nash story)

Face to my face by EtoileGarden - 46k words

Girl dad buck!!! He fathers a child in his Buck 1.0 days and raises her starting at the end of season 1.

Waves (it comes and goes) by SunSpell80 - 40k words

Evan Buckley left his past behind when he left home for good at age 19. But an unexpected phone call on a quiet shift disrupts the life he's built for himself: forcing him to confront his past in order to build a new future. This fic is rather dark, it deals with discussion of past child sexual abuse and attempted murder.

the mark they saw on my collarbone by stockholm_syndrom - 27k words

Omega!Eddie and alpha!buck fic focused on gender roles, being a single parent, shame for being an omega, and Shannon. Highly highly recommend if you're into omegaverse.

🔥Second Best by Nejinee - 51k words

Eddie has convinced himself that helping Buck through his heat is perfectly normal behaviour between friends. It didn’t mean anything. omega!buck and alpha!Eddie fic where buck just wants to biohack his way out of his heats as fast as possible and Eddie wants to be a good friend and help!

🔥 Racing with the Brakes Cut by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - 65k words

Buddie Fast & Furious AU with beautiful writing and smut that I haven't been able to stop thinking about

🔥 Let My Ink Stain Your Pages by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - 107k words

Having just killed off his popular character, bestselling author Evan Buckley needs some new inspiration and fast. Luckily for him, Det. Eddie Diaz is about to stroll into his life. Castle AU!! my favorite fic by this author <3

new growth by notathingtoseehere - 15k words

Eddie in therapy after the fight club era.

good pretender by likeshipsonthesea - 85k words

an au where buck broke up with taylor before 5b, ravi and buck become (actually platonic) friends with benefits, and ravi, eddie, and buck all go on a journey of self-discovery that ends with them all getting what they need

I was like omg haha fwb sex leads to jealousy lol and then this fic was so moving and profound I couldn't put it down. I read this in one day.

Followed By Ghosts by itsanapothecary - 21k words

Instead of hiding the truth about Daniel from their children, Margaret and Philip memorialize their lost son in every one of their remaining children's accomplishments. Growing up, neither Maddie nor Buck felt like they could escape the shadow of their brother. When Buck finds the 118, he gets a chance to be his own person, although the looming attention from his parents and weight of expectations threatens to jeopardize what he's built in Los Angeles.

Buck/Tommy:

what are your intentions? by screamlet - 141k words

It's Tommy and Buck—the family they find and the family they make.

Listen listen when I say that one of the best pieces of literature I read this year was this fanfiction I mean it. It's buck and Tommy's love story, it's finding queer identity, it's family, it's everything. It's such a great exploration of what Bucktommy could've been. I wasn't 100% convinced when I read the first chapter but so glad I continued. I could gush about this fic for a while but don't want to spoil it.

my high hopes are getting low, but I know I'll never be alone by foxaquatica - 4k words

Buck and Tommy have moved in together and decide to tell their parents, so they invite them to brunch, and it almost goes well, except Margaret Buckley just keeps talking.

🔥Off the Ground by pepperlandgirl4 - 65k words series, marked in complete

Tommy is Abbey's ex-boyfriend and meets Buck when Buck is staying in Abbey's condo. A canon-compliant, different first meeting AU that explores the relationship through the events of season 2 and beyond.

((I personally miss the simpler times when Tommy/Abby was just a silly fan theory, well this fic is from that and very enjoyable. Also very hot))

Over the Rainbow by typicalopposite @typicalopposite - 40k words

the heavily angsty mpreg no one asked for that I just needed to tell anyway!

bucktommy mpreg written before the mpreg explosion post-breakup, it's crazy.

Rebuilding Burnt Bridges by LadyEyre - 65k words, ongoing series

When his grandmother passes away, Tommy is faced with the opportunity to reforge relationships with his estranged family.

Four works so far, very touching. Becomes more OC focused as you get into it, so not a lot of romantic development or scenes. A fic focused on family healing if you're into that.

🔥Paint Me in Neon and Make Me Glow by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels - 12k words

the five times Buck had an exhibitionist kink and the one time Tommy fucked him about it.

the shaky things we’ve seen by origamifrogs - 41k words

After a 118 call gone awry, Buck and Tommy become emergency foster parents to a three month old baby named Annabelle. Or, Tommy begins (and begins again).

Ugh bucktommy with a kid & foster care themes in a 9-1-1 fic it's everything I love. A lot of interesting Tommy stuff too.

Tommy, Actually by rosetterer - 21k words

Tommy's life then and now. While moving he finds a box of memories and you see his life story.

Where It Wasn't Supposed to Be by Princessfbi - 45k words

Buck and Tommy meet and start dating while Tommy is at the 118, only Tommy is still closeted and that brings its own issues.

🔥No way it was our last night by harmonic-intervention (BackseatSerenade) - 18k words

In Buck's defense, the first time it happened, it had been an accident. Somehow, calling Tommy in this situation was the least embarrassing option. - bucktommy fix-it, Buck finds the worst doms he can so Tommy will come and take care of him. It goes as well as expected.

somebody out there who will by kitthekazoo - 61k words

Married to his best friend, Evan Buckley thought he had everything he needed to be happy. When Eddie offers to open the relationship so Buck can explore sexually outside of their marriage, he's hesitant, but when he spends an eye-opening, incredible night with Tommy Kinard, it's exactly what he needed. However, the problems in his marriage have just started, and the simplest solution - break up with Tommy - isn't an option at all.

Dispatcher Tommy Kinard AU by Wolf - 58k words, ongoing series

Tommy meets season 1 Buck because he works as a dispatcher due to an injury. Series is ongoing and currently retelling season 2.

you may find yourself (in another part of the world) by indigostohelit - 65k words

Buck & Tommy are sailors in 1805 that's all you need to know.

Buck/Eddie/Tommy:

🔥don't just stand there by laurenttheninth - 20k words

Description: aka "five times Eddie Diaz almost walks in on his best friend having sex with a man, and the one time he absolutely does."

Yeah ok so this fic is so hot and the +1 in the trope low key made my jaw drop the first time I read it, so I highly recommend (this was one of the first 9-1-1 fics I ever read lol)

Clue by mmmargo @usercelestial - 3.9k words

So this is really buck/Tommy/Eddie/josh... Buck and Tommy have weekly game nights with Josh and Eddie. Chimney is totally normal about not being invited and accidentally does some sleuthing to find out what's so special about these parties which leads him to an interesting discovery.

No Romantic Pairings:

more would never be enough by ShyAudacity - 12k words

When he hears it again, Buck turns towards the living room, the sound getting clearer. He shuffles forward slowly; Buck goes to adjust his helmet and ends up knocking it off his head, landing just out of reach near the wall. He grimaces, reaching to grab it, and out of the corner of his eye, Buck spots two small feet and a brown and white stuffed dog tucked in the corner behind the couch. OR Buck rescues a foster kid.

listen listen listen if you read ONE fic without romance you should read this one. I love dad buck and foster care In a 9-1-1 fic too much

Good People. Bad Parents. by datleggy - 1.8k words

Buck shares some things and the team realizes his parents were abusive.

I feel it crash down (down on me) by smilingbuckley - 2k words

Buck discovered something in therapy and he talks about it with Bobby.

You would cry too, if it happened to you by Maximoff_Wanda - 2k words

The first birthday Buck spent on the 118, Bobby made him a cake and he was so confused as to who it was for cause no one has ever made him a birthday cake.

Knight’s Move by telm_393 - 14k words

Men usually develop schizophrenia between their late teens and early twenties. Albert Han, probationary firefighter with the LAFD, is twenty-three years old when the monsters move in. On a bad night, Chimney and Buck intervene. Nothing about this is easy. This fic is marked buddie but literally has no romance, it's about Albert suffering a psychotic break and his brother taking care of him.

Bonus Tarlos...

so I discovered 9-1-1 in July and didn't start Lone Star till October and still haven't actually finished it bc I'm in denial. So I have not yet gotten into Tarlos fanfic in earnest. But I love this series:

every beat of you, every measure and note by Flogsam - 50k words complete.

A series of fics about Carlos dealing with brain damage after the season 4 kidnapping. Very moving.

[igetthedisneybox]

Óscar Madrigal

Inspired by @hannahhook7744's Encanto AU, and her own character headcanons.

Third image made using https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1558575

Fourth image made using https://www.dolldivine.com/la-colombiana

Fifth image made in Disney Dreamlight Valley

Óscar’s full name is Óscar Horacio Madrigal.

His first name means “dear friend” and his middle name means “time”. 

He is the oldest child of Mirabel Madrigal and Bubo Marquez.

He greatly resembles his father, and has his brown skin, nose, and hair. Somehow, he did not inherit either of his parents' need for glasses.

He is seventeen years old.

He has two triplet sisters, Beatriz, younger by fifteen minutes, and Lidia, younger by thirty minutes.

He likes both boys and girls, but is single.

His gift is mediumship. He can see and communicate with the dead souls who can’t/ won’t move on to the afterlife. The Encanto finds this weird and off-putting (because Catholic), and so shuns him. Everyone expects him to hate his gift because of this, but he actually loves it. He likes getting to hear stories from the dead, and help them move on.

His door portrays him standing with his arms out, while many glowing skulls surround him.

His room has wood floors and black walls, but the walls are painted with gold and yellow marigolds. Many sconces and candelabras are hung on the walls, and there’s a seance circle permanently on the floor in the middle of the room. His bed and other amenities are pushed up against the walls.

His symbol is a glowing skull.

Mirabel understands what it’s like to be shunned by the Encanto for a gift/lack thereof, so the two get along great. She’s always there to cheer him up.

Bubo on the other hand is very much A Dad, and tries to bond with his son in various Dad ways, such as fútbol (which Óscar is not into). But he tries.

He and Beatriz are amicable, but are very different people, so don’t hang out.

Lidia can, has, and will beat people up who are mean to Óscar, much to his horror.

He hangs out with the other “outcast” cousins: Sofía, Fuega, Zoe, Hugo, and Andrés.

He gets along best with Pedro, Bruno, Dolores, and Sofía.

Because Pedro’s soul inhabits Casita, Óscar regularly talks and hangs out with him.

He likes to entertain the souls of the dead city children who didn’t make the pilgrimage to the Encanto.

He often looks like he’s muttering to himself while using his gift, which started the rumor that he’s actually crazy.

He looks a lot like Bruno, and is called “Bruno’s twin” sometimes.

He can become possessed by spirits if he does a seance. He mainly does this with Pedro, for emotional reunions with family (and to stop arguments). 

His favorite colors are burnt orange, maroon, gold, and mahogany.

[fiapartridge]

GRACE X MACKLIN 🌟🏒☁️

macklin celebrini x hughes!sister au!

meet gracelyn hughes 🐈‍⬛🎸🫐 fc: claire cottrill

✮ age: 18

✮ nicknames: grace, g, & 'the coolest hughes' by trevor obvi

✮ education/hobbies: grace studies psychology at the university of michigan while being a singer/guitarist for her small indie band, red summer.

✮ family: her older brothers, luke (20), jack (22), quinn (24), all play hockey in the nhl! her parents, jim and ellen hughes, also play/played hockey. she's super close with all of them; they spend every single summer together at the lake house in michigan!

✮ g's quirks: she's never had a bf! she simply hasn't had a care for being in a relationship & her brothers are super protective (mainly jack!!); she loves lorde (she is the physical embodiment of pure heroine) + lunar vacation; her parents tried to get her into hockey when she was younger but she always ended up talking to the goalie when everyone else was actually playing the game; she has some tattoos + a nose piercing; her favorite movies are lady bird, booksmart, and the edge of seventeen! she's literally kat stratford.

meet macklin celebrini 🏒⭐️🌊

✮ age: 17

✮ nicknames: mack & celly

✮ education/sports: macklin is currently playing hockey for boston university.

✮ family: his older brother, aiden (19) plays on the same team as him at bu! they have two younger siblings.

✮ mack's quirks: he's had the biggest crush on grace ever since he learned about the hughes family. to be honest, that's probably the biggest reason why he hasn't been in a relationship in college yet. he's been holding out for her.

about the fic! -> a little backstory & some stuff to know 😇

✮ grace is macklin's celeb crush! if you want to read about how they met, here's the link !

✮ i had her as an olympic figure skater in the fic linked above because i wrote it before creating this au! now she's a guitarist/singer for a band!! 🎸🎸🎸 (i also just love rockstar gf + biggest fan bf vibes)

✮ she first started texting him on february 14, 2024 -> everything will take place after that date!

moodboard!

playlist!

fics ->

✮ "who is your celebrity crush?"

✮ first date

✮ he's a stranger!

blurbs ->

work in progress...

thoughts ->

✮ they're in between coded!

✮ complicated start

✮ pda

✮ cuddliest pair

insta edits ->

work in progress...

[slytherinshua]

SEVENTEEN ATLA HEADCANONS

genre. headcanons. avatar the last airbender au. warnings. none. featuring. ot13 seventeen. wc. 1.6k. (around 100 words each) request. no. a/n. obviously i've been on a svt atla kick since burnt promises, second chances. i'd be open to writing fics for any of these small headcanons if anyone is particularly interested :)

SEUNGCHEOL

Ugh, Cheol is really hard. I kinda see him as any nation and also none at the same time. For the lack of other Water Tribe on the list, I’ll give him Water Tribe, but I don’t even think he’s a bender. He’d be a passionate hunter of the Southern Water Tribe, and a very good one, but not a bender. He’d always be eager to help out and fit his role as a true leader. He’s looked up to because he protects his people without fail. He’s good at strategics and known for his bravery. I see him fitting a role like Sokka’s father, but I don’t see him as anything glamorous like Water Tribe Royalty. He’s down to Earth and humble and honest. He leads and the people follow.

JEONGHAN

Jeonghan is an airbender. He’s witty and intelligent, and a great asset to his nation. He’d be in an Air temple close to the Earth Kingdom, and he often helps out with strategics if they ever need it. Definitely a kind and angel baby, but if there’s anyone who needs dealing with, he will personally take the task up. He’s world renowned and has allies and friends in every single nation. When he’s not busy, he’ll spend his time travelling around and immersing himself in the different cultures of the nations. He’s beaten Water Tribe hunters at their own hunt, evaded earthbender attacks in the ring because of how light he is on his feet. And his agility and wit proves to be useful whenever he goes head to head with a firebender. He can often predict their next moves and avoid attacks before they’re even fired at him.

JOSHUA

Joshua is Water Tribe!! Definitely a Water Tribe prince, or even a poor boy from the Northern Water Tribe whose parents couldn’t afford water bending lessons for him, so he would sneak around and watch lessons without getting caught. He’s mostly self taught, so he’s not exactly the best, but he can still hold his own. If he’s a Water Tribe prince, then he probably got bored with water bending very quickly as a child and started figuring out ways to skip his lessons lol. He knows clever ways to bribe or fool his masters into letting him slack off, but he also has to build enough skill to show at least a little improvement. He’s probably more interested in carving proposal necklaces to give to his future girlfriend than improving his bending skills.

JUNHUI

Jun is Fire Nation, and he’s extremely talented at Fire Bending. He probably runs a tea shop with his family and takes lessons on the side; just a regular middle class kid. He’s not aiming for a military position or anything high up, but he uses his skills to help him in daily life. He might have friends from places higher up in the city, and because of that, he got to take a visit to Royal Fire Academy for Girls. Definitely turns some heads— practically the whole school is crushing on him by the end of the 2 hour visit, and he enjoys the attention that he wouldn’t usually get at home. It’s safe to say that he’s invited back given the significant improvement in attendance and performance after his initial visit. 

SOONYOUNG

Another airbender, only because he’s so agile. Like the spider choreo really makes me see him as someone who just likes to swing around upside down for fun. He’ll play pranks on the older monks, or just anyone he can get his hands on. He’s a lot like Aang in that way. He definitely creates his own airbending moves, because he is a choreographer!!! Somehow takes a trip to the Earth Kingdom because it was his life goal to see a tigerdillo in real life. Once he meets one, he somehow adopts it, and settles down in the Earth Kingdom from there on! He’s perfectly happy, and can he even pose as an earthbender if he’s smart about it.

WONWOO

Anyone could probably guess that I see Wonwoo as Fire Nation. I wrote an entire 14.5k fic about it which is expecting a part 2, but I just think he fits it so much? Especially in a role like the Fire Lord or some notable higher up who is skilled at firebending and definitely owns a dragon (if we’re talking a time period before/during the dragon hunts). He’d be the type to just be a natural at it and reach a high mastery at an early age. He’s such a skilled fighter, and definitely knows how to control his flame. He prefers to study directly from dragons instead of old masters, whose teachings feel regurgitated and watered down, which sounds pretentious, but it’s one of the reasons why he got so good.

JIHOON

I see Jihoon as an Earth bender. He’s short and stout but HE'S SO BUFF. He definitely has the density in him to move some rocks, he’s practically built like The Boulder but without the height????? I definitely see him as part of the royal guard, but definitely not an Earth King. He might teach Earth Bending or get posted out on the coast near the Fire Nation or something— but he definitely has a military position. Somewhere where he can use his earthbending to its full potential. Not the most talkative, but definitely the most efficient, so he climbs the ranks like nobody's business and everyone knows to respect every word that comes out of his mouth. If you say even a word about his height, he’ll throw a rock at your head before you can finish the sentence.

SEOKMIN

It was hard to pick between Water Tribe and Fire Nation for Seokmin, but I think he’s ultimately Fire Nation. I see him as an actor for plays, and he definitely uses his firebending to win over the audience. It got to the point that even though he’s from a small town in the Fire Nation, he became a household name and got increasingly popular until he eventually found himself acting in front of the Fire Lord. Once he got rich enough from it, he got a spot in the most infamous acting troupe in the Fire Nation. His favourite role to play is, of course, the Dragon Emperor in Love Amongst the Dragons.

MINGYU

Just a bulky earthbender I don’t know what to say. He probably got recruited to some military position because he’s fit and can hold his own in a fight, but boy’s just really a sweetheart. He doesn’t enjoy smashing people with rocks, so he tries to get out of the military as soon as possible. He instead works as a carpenter of sorts? Builds elaborate structures with his earthbending, and has a surprisingly artistic touch to his creations. Popular with the older ladies because he is a gentleman.

MINGHAO

I see him as an airbender, but I cannot imagine him with a bald head LIKE HELP. But let's say he is, and for aesthetic purposes, keep the long haired Minghao. He practically floats and flies through the air with his airbendings. He’s probably more of a lemur guy than a sky bison guy. I can imagine him having 1 or 2 lemurs who he spends most of his time with. Obviously very light on his feet and into meditation. He’s one of those star students in the class that the teacher picks as an example for the other students to watch and learn from.

SEUNGKWAN

A waterbender, and he’s good because he focused and studied the traditions of it. He knows the importance of the basics, and when he’s teaching, he can get mad pretty quick if he catches a novice waterbender doing a technique lazily. He teaches them the hard way, making the floor an ice rink or slapping in the face with a water tentacle if they make a silly mistake. But he’s a respected master. (Not to say that he’s old, but he holds the respect of an old master). Also a great healer for the Water Tribe. He thinks it’s important for the men to not just learn how to fight with spears and slices of water, but also to heal the tribe, and he offers his lessons to the women of the tribe as well.

VERNON

Another Fire Nation boy. He’s so skilled he can redirect lightning and all that jazz. He’s a worldwide guy too, so he’s definitely familiar with the other nations and their bending to a certain extent. (Like Iroh, studying the Water Tribe helped him with creating new techniques within firebending). He has a dragon because he’s hot like that, and would hold master firebending classes lol. Definitely has connections to the Royal Family and I could even see him serving as a personal guard or something of that sort. His skills aren’t to be wasted, so he can snag a high paying position practically anywhere he wants.  

CHAN

Earth Kingdom kid from a poor family™, I mean it’s just so clear in my mind. I imagine his mom runs a corner store, and he likes to use his very limited earth bending skills to make the shop look prettier. If the wooden tables break down over time, he’ll earth bend a makeshift counter to display the trinkets for sale. He’s quite charming even though he doesn’t have much to say about himself. In the lower class of the Earth Kingdom, practically everyone knows him because he likes to go around and make new friends when he’s bored. He’ll help out the elderly if they need it, and flash a toothy grin to anyone he comes across.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @haecien,, @amara-mars

[writtenonreceipts]

Elucien Week Masterlist // AO3 Link // Part 2

Day Four: High Society @elucienweekofficial

Summary: A Regency AU. When her family faces the backlash of questionable business choices, Elain Archeron finds herself betrothed to Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the duke.  A past of brief interactions taught Elain that there was no good to come from the man, but she soon learns there is more to the young lord than she could have ever known. Two Parts.

a/n: I shared a small section of this story last year during Elucien week as well, so if it looks familiar, that is why!  Planning on two parts. And guess what??? Part two is mostly written (and by mostly i mean 3k words and it'll probs be 6-8k).

warnings: none for this part! ~8.3k words

.*.*.*.*.

When Our Fingers Touch, I Find My Way Back Home

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture her parents.  They were cold, calculating, vindictive individuals who certainly deserved each other.  They were so far from typical conventions of affection that tolerance was the word she associated them with.

Her parents had married when mother was fresh into her first season, seventeen and well connected.  Truly, Margot St. Moore had been the diamond in her season and been used to capture the attention of Lord Elias Archeron.  Elias of course was only interested in a wife who would continue to garner gossip and valuable information that he could use to further his political agenda.

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture the heroine of the latest book she was reading.  It was dull, long winded, and focused only on the male perspective.  She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact considering it was Aunt Ripleigh who’d gifted it to her, but she’d had high hopes for it in any case.

And it wasn’t that Aunt Ripleigh wasn’t a capable woman herself.  No.  Aunt Ripleigh simply waited to be acted upon.  She hardly ever sought her own will, her own wants, her own desires.  It drove Elain insane especially when she’d been forced to spend an entire winter with the woman.  She’d gotten very good at baking however, so that was alright she supposed.

Rather, when she thought of love, Elain looked to her sister.  Which was hilarious when one thought about it because Nesta did not believe in love.  At least she hadn’t.  Until war hero and decorated officer Cassian Madura returned to the city and promptly swept Nesta off her feet.

The two were so different that Elain wondered how it was possible they’d come together.  They’d certainly played many rounds of cat and mouse during their courtship.  At one point Elain believed that Nesta had dismissed the man for good.  She didn’t know the entire story behind their coupling, but Elain did know her sister and Nesta had never truly been happy until Cassian had come around.

The strange, free-falling nature of love had long fascinated Elain.  She’d had her own fantasies and desires for what love would look like for her that she’d become quite enamored with the idea.  Of course, she knew that love was hard to come by.  Even if she was a woman and the second daughter, she’d understood she might need to make some sacrifices in her little world.  But she’d long held on to the notion that she would be loved.

Until now.

“I’m sorry father,” she said, folding her napkin across her lap.  She cleared her throat and leaned forward over the table. “I don’t think I heard what you said.”

Breakfast had never been an enjoyable affair.  It was insufferable in the fact that they were all forced together at Mother’s insistence.  Every meal was meant to be spent together, hilarious considering none of them liked the other.  But Elain new better than to comment on that.

“Oh, Elain,” Mother sighed heavily, taking a long sip of her tea. “You know perfectly well what he said.”

Elain ignored her mother and stared at her father.  He was doing a rather remarkable job at examining the single missive he’d received with breakfast.  A missive that was minuscule, Elain knew.

The only other person in the room, aside from the staff, was Feyre who was twirling her fork in her fingers in a very undignified manner.  Younger by a nearly two years, Feyre still had time before marriage became a priority.  Even then, Margot and Elias Archeron were rather bored with being parents at this point that Feyre may never be forced to find a husband.

“You’re betrothed,” Father said flatly. “To one of the Vanserra boys.  I spoke with his grace, Lord Vanserra just yesterday.”

Father finally tossed the missive to the side before cutting into the sausage on his plate.

“Which Vanserra boy was it?” Elain asked as calmly as she could.  But her fingers were shaking, her whole body in fact.  And there was a distinct rage building in her blood that she was certain would come pouring out at any given moment.

She had to pull herself together.  Ladies did not dissolve into rage at a minor inconvenience.  Ladies were calm, collected, and careful.

Mother sighed again and poured herself more tea. “Don’t be so difficult, Elain.  You’ve been preparing for this your entire life.  After your sister married that, that brute, you had to expect that you would bring our family some honor.  Honestly.”

Elain met Feyre’s gaze.  Her little sister merely shrugged. Wonderful.

“And I am happy to do so, mother,” Elain said, her smile felt tight and sharp. “I only wish to know who I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.”

She simply couldn’t believe that it would be a Vanserra she would marry.  Oh, they were a well-respected family.  They were rich, educated, dripping with all the prestige of the world.  But there were rumors too.  Rumors of cruelty and spite.  Just last year two of the seven sons had been killed in a horrific robbery while abroad.  Elain had heard from three different ladies that Beron, the family patriarch, had his own sons killed for no reason other than the boys were useless in business.  There were also the rumors of cruelty.  Lady Dierdre didn’t leave the Vanserra estate often for a reason.

Elain sipped her tea, trying to calm down.

She’d grown up with the Vanserra’s though.  Had endured those boys like one endured an annoying fly that would not leave you alone.  And she had a sickening feeling which brother her father assigned her to.

“Lucius, Leonardo, Liam.” Father waved a hand. “The one with the red hair.”

They all had red hair.

“Lucien,” Elain murmured.  Really, there was no other option.  The eldest was well into his thirties the next two married and the other still abroad.  Dread weighed heavy in her stomach.

Father grunted and continued eating his sausage.

“Unfortunately,” Mother said, another sigh. “I would have preferred Eris.  I tried arranging him and Nesta before she sullied herself—” a click of the tongue from Feyre “—and tried again for you.  Unfortunately, he has a match now.”

Mother dropped sugar into her tea. “And even if that other one is the youngest and won’t inherit a title, you will still be a Vanserra.”

“Is Father’s business truly failing so much?” Feyre, finally breaking her silence, picked up a slice of strawberry with her bare fingers. “So much that you think a marriage alliance will fix it?”

“Hold your tongue, girl,” Father barked. “We always knew Elain would marry and maintain the household.  When all our holdings go to her husband it will merely procure a legitimate union.”

Elain and Feyre exchanged another look.

“I will not tolerate your attitudes anymore,” Mother said. “The both of you. Petulant children.  I raised you better than this, Elain.  You are a lady.  You will do as you’re told.  And Feyre—you will sit properly at the table or go sit in the mires.”

Feyre slowly straightened her back.

Elain gave her mother a nod. “Of course, Mother.  I forgot my place.”

And then she promptly kept her lips sealed for the rest of the meal.

…

It was when Elain was twelve that she met Lucien Vanserra for the first time.

She wasn’t supposed to be outside in the gardens, but she simply couldn’t resist.  It was still early enough in spring that the new blooms were still budding, and leaves were unfurling that it all had an heir of magic to it.  In just a few weeks this garden would be transformed from bare branches to insurmountable beauty.  And she wanted to see every moment of that transition.

Even if it was still a bit cold.  And yes, the clouds overhead were gray and fierce and looked ready to pounce.  But it was no longer winter.  She needn’t be contained anymore.

So, Elain wandered the gardens.  She could identify most of the plants by their leaves alone.  After kindly bullying the head gardener to teach her about his stewardship, Elain had come to more fully appreciate this small piece of the world.

As she rounded a corner of her favorite part of the garden, she saw a flash of red and a creature dashed out of the shrubbery.  It paused in the middle of the path, staring at her.  A fox.  Sleek and lean with large russet eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you a surprise,” Elain said, because what else was there to say? “Having a look around?”

Its tail twitched and head listed to one side.  And then a great shout echoed across the garden and the fox flitted off again.

Elain couldn’t help her cry of dismay when a boy, just a few years older than her, came charging through the garden.  He was impeccably dressed for a boy his age with crisp linen and shiny boots.  His fiery red hair hung over his face as he ran towards Elain.

“Where is it?” he asked with obvious desperation.

“I—what?” Elain stared at him, this strange boy with a pal-mal racquet in one hand and determination in his eyes.

“The fox!  The blasted thing stole through the game and ruined my shot!”

Elain blinked. “You were startled by a fox?”

The boy scowled. “I didn’t say I was scared.”

“Then how did it ruin your shot?” she insisted.

“It ran out in front of me,” he replied.

“And you got distracted?”

“No!” The boy did not appreciate her at this moment, she could see that well enough. 

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.

“It’s a menace,” the boy said.  He looked at her in earnest now.  Elain could see how bright his eyes were, rich brown like the fox’s.  His skin was a warm, rich color, darker than most in the -ton. “I want to catch it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “What on earth for?  You wouldn’t hurt it would you?”

The boy started.  “Well, I suppose I don’t know.  I didn’t think that far.”

“You’re very strange,” Elain told him.

“Well so are you,” he said.

It was Elain’s turn to scowl.  How dare he!  He didn’t know her from Adam.

“I am a respectable young lady and I would ask that you treat me as such,” she said, and then lifted her chin in the air for good measure.

“You’re covered in dirt,” the boy said. “Ladies don’t roll around in the dirt.”

Elain glanced down.  It appeared he was right.  She’d knelt beside the roses pulling weeds earlier.  And then there was a mess of fallen branches in the hydrangeas.  Not to mention lavender.

“A lady is allowed her hobbies, and her discretion,” she said, perfectly mimicking her tutors.

The boy cocked his head. “I don’t know.  Still seems strange to me, you were talking to yourself too.  Or is that another one of your discretions you're allowed?”

Was he mocking her?  Elain couldn’t help her scowl, even with her mother’s inner monologue raging in her head.  

“At least I’m not running about like a savage waving a stick,” she said.

“It’s fun, you should try it,” he replied, “but ladies aren’t meant to be savages.”

“No,” she said, “they’re not.”

And then, for whatever reason, he grinned at her.  Something wild and bright and utterly different than what Elain ever saw on anyone.  He then swept into a low bow.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, “seventh son to the duke.”

The Duke? Elain stared at him.  Her father was a lord who managed funds and trades.  This boy, Lucien, so clearly outranked her in social standing that Elain could hardly even think.  Mother was going to be furious for being so forward and impolite to him.

“And you, my lady,” Lucien asked, his impish grin still in place. “Might I know of your name?”

If she didn’t tell him her name then he couldn’t tattle on her for being so uncivilized.  

Elain clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.  Not only would mother scold her, but she could also revoke Elain’s privileges relating to the garden, or baking.  If either of those things happened, Elain had no idea what she would do.  She would be forced to read.  Or paint. Or cross-stitch.

“Elain!” 

She started, terrified that her mother had found her out in the garden, dirty, talking to the duke's son of all things.  Hand clutched to her chest, she spun around, searching for who was calling for her.

Walking quickly down the path towards her was Nesta.  Barely a year older than her, Nesta was already so lovely.  Her dress was perfectly pressed and arranged, and her body, perfect for dancing, moved with perfect elegance.

“Elain, what are you doing?” Nesta demanded as she drew closer.

While Nesta wouldn’t tell their mother about this little venture, she would try and mother hen Elain the rest of the day.  Elain glanced at Lucien.  As if he could help.

All he did was offer another bow. “Lady Elain.”

And then he was scampering off the way he came.

“Elain!” Nesta finally stepped up beside her and took her arm. “Who was that?  What’s going on?”

“It was, I was,” she was at a loss for words.  In all her life, Elain always had the words for every situation. “There was a fox.”

Nesta did not like that answer.  She tugged at Elain’s arm, pulling her back to the manor.

“Come on, you have to change before mother sees you.”

There was no other choice than to follow.

…

The winter months were long and dreary.  Compared to the bright vibrant warmth of spring and summer, winter was the bane of Elain’s existence.  It was barely even Winter Solstice and Elain was ready to return to the comforts of the other seasons.  

“Get that scowl off your face,” Mother snapped.

Elain blinked and looked in the mirror of her vanity.  Her maid, Nuala, was carefully pinning her curls into an elegant twist while her mother paced the room behind.  She wasn’t scowling, was she?  She was merely staring off into nothing.

“You’re going to be the center of attention tonight at the ball and we cannot have your future husband see that on your face.” Mother picked invisible lint from her dress. “You are a lady who everyone will be looking to, tonight.”

Elain straightened her shoulders and relaxed her jaw. “Of course, Mother. I’m sorry.  I just can’t help but imagine how tonight will go.  With my betrothal to Lord Lucien there will be a number of expectations.”

“Expectations that you’ve been training for since you could walk,” Mother replied crisply. She came up behind Elain, nearly pushing Nuala out of the way.  The lady's maid said nothing, knowing better than to try and address the woman. “It is nothing you cannot handle.”

The compliment was a rare gem that Elain would savor for just a moment.  She told herself to relax, to breathe evenly.  It would be a successful night of celebration and merriment.  Even with the official engagement to Lord Lucien, there were still holiday celebrations.  The dancing would be wonderful, the food divine, and the decorations.  Elain had helped the head housekeeper in all the planning.  Mother only accepted the notion when Elain reminded her it was how she would best prepare for her own house in just a few months’ time.

It would be a remarkable night, and her engagement to Lord Lucien would not sully it.  She loved parties and gatherings and adored the excitement that came with all the various arrangements.

“All finished,” Nuala said.  She pined one more curl into place.  It was lovely with the twisting curls and gentle braids she’d created.  She’d even pinned a small string of pearls to act like a crown.

“Thank-you Nuala.” Elain smiled at her maid.  She’d long been a good confidant and wonderful friend despite their differences in station. “You’re dismissed, I’ll ring for you later tonight.”

Nuala curtsied before hurrying from the room.  Just as she was leaving, another of the maids approached, rapping on the door.

“Excuse me, my ladies,” the maid said, curtsying just as Nuala had. “Lady Arch—er Madura has arrived.”

Elain perked immediately. “Do send her up Greer.”

“No,” Mother cut in. “We are already late.  We’ll see her downstairs.”

They were ahead of schedule, but Elain knew better than to correct her mother.  But she desperately wanted to speak with Nesta.  The two got along as well as sisters could, but they still had their differences.  And while Elain had her own thoughts and opinions about Nesta’s choice in life (not that she begrudged her sister’s choice in husband nor how she took hold of her life) there were simply things that she didn’t understand.

Things that she couldn’t talk to her mother about.  And Feyre, well, Feyre was ice and snow.  Hard to navigate, hard to approach.  Sometimes, Elain would say that Feyre and Nesta were the most similar of the sisters, but she didn’t want to get her head eaten off.

“Now,” Mother said, drawing Elain from her thoughts. “Tonight is all about your betrothal to Lord Lucien.  You must dance with him and you must speak with him.  Civilly.  None of this running around to your every whim and fancy.  I will not have you become a gossip.”

“I have to attend to guests,” Elain insisted. She did not want to spend an entire night stuck to Lord Vanserra’s side.  It was laughable.  Ludicrous to expect her to do so. “I am in part hosting this event, Mother.”

“The only one hosting this night, is me.  I am the lady of this household,” Mother said.  Her voice was stoney and viciously cold.  Elain hardly restrained her wince.  “You cannot flirt with every man that walks through that door.  Have some restraint, Elain.”

Elain dropped her gaze, demurely. “Yes, ma’am.”

There was no point in arguing with her.  Not now.  Soon, she would be gone from the manor.  Gone from the constant nagging and finagling.  Soon, she would have her own house to tend.  Lord Vanserra would allow her that small mercy, wouldn’t he?

“You’re frowning again.”  Mother rapped her on the shoulder and sighed.  “And your hair.  Why must you have so many curls?  It really would be better if it lay flat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then Elain was left to follow her mother down to the main hall where the ball would occur.

Everything had been transformed to reflect a taste of winter.  Blue and white ribbons combined with simple floral arrangements.  The chandeliers had all been shined to perfection and candelabras burned through the hall.  The carpets had been washed, banisters polished, and every surface that was supposed to gleam did so as if set upon by the sun.

Elain allowed herself a moment of admiration for the work the staff had done.  But only a moment.  Mother was already halfway across the hall and trailing behind like a little duckling would not make the night any easier.

Immediately, there were names to be learned, curtsies to be given, and greetings to be issued.  Elain had been trained for this.  Mother had taught her everything about being a good hostess and deferring to the man of the house.  Mother had also taught her how to carefully gather information from everyone that passed through their doors.  

And while Elain didn’t mind a bit of gossip, she didn’t necessarily enjoy the attention this sprung on her.  If she were being honest, she wished she could have a single moment for herself.  Just one where she could take everything in about the decorations of the house, the music, the food.  Where she could simply breathe and not worry about whether she’d done well enough or worry about how others saw the way she ran the house. 

She just wanted a moment.

“Elain,” Mother hissed beside her when they weren’t inundated with another round of guests.

She snapped to attention, realizing she was giving too much attention to a snag in Lady Charlotte’s gown.  The poor dear was failing miserably at hiding her pregnancy.

Elain didn’t need to ask her mother what happened because she already knew.  It only took a glance.

Entering their families' great hall were the Duke and Duchess.  They were resplendent in their dress, the duke formal in a black coat and rich cream shirt, trousers, and cravat.  His black hair was neatly styled and those dark brown eyes shrewdly examined everything in the hall.  His wife, though, was by far the most beautiful woman Elain had seen.  Her red hair was twisted into a fashionable chiffon and laden with sparkling gems that matched the green of her gown.  With a willowy frame and bright, amber eyes, the Duchess was remarkable.

Following right behind them were two men that were impossible to mistake.  Eris and Lucien Vanserra.  They were both proud and arrogant as they stood in the doorway.  So similar yet so different.  Where Eris had paler skin, Lucien was darker, where Eris was sharp and cut cold as his father, Lucien retained the subtle softness of his mother.

Elain couldn’t help but stare.  Truly, she tried to avert her gaze.  To focus on Lady Viviane who looked resplendent in a gown of pale blue.  To congratulate her on her pregnancy that she had no qualms of hiding unlike most ladies of the -ton.

But once her eyes snagged on Lucien, she could not look away.  And when he caught her staring, Elain knew she was lost.

A smirk tugged on his lips and his brow rose in challenge.  Elain lifted her chin and looked away.  There was only so long she could get away with it.  Only so long until her mother forced the hired string quartet to play something.  Only so long until she was thrust into the arms of her betrothed.  Like an animal.

…

She was seventeen when she realized that her life would never be her own.

She’d tried to ask her mother for permission to spend time in the kitchens with the cook so she could learn how to braid bread and roll out pie dough.  At first, Elain foolishly thought her mother would give her permission.  Until Mother tossed her head back and laughed.

“You are a lady, Elain.  And you will be married the second you turn eighteen.  There is no reason for you to sully yourself with that sort of thing.”

Elain was quickly learning that sully was mother’s new favorite word.  Especially after Nesta had been seen dancing with Cassian Madura at the Berdara Ball just two nights ago.  Mother had just never used it in reference to her before.  Elain was always lovely and sweet and perfect.

And even if Elain didn’t like being called those things, didn’t like the way they made her feel so enclosed and trapped—she’d never thought her mother would be so blatant in her cold words and cruel actions.

Perhaps that was why Elain found herself wandering the large fields of the property that day.  It was early spring and the rains had stopped for a small respite.  She’d been desperate to get out of the house.  To feel the fresh air and taste the sweet breeze that came with the fresh blooms of spring.  Even if it was still chilly and the clouds overhead looked ready to burst at any moment.

Elain wasted no time as she practically ran across the sprawling lawn.  It wasn’t long until she was far enough away from the manor that she could breathe a bit easier, that even her mother’s nagging voice disappeared.

She only came to a stop as she reached the small stream that served as a border between Archeron and Vanserra land.  How they lived so close to the duke Elain had never learned and she was certain that the truth would not be comforting, so she put it out of her mind as best she could.

She wore one of her simpler dresses today which made it easier to walk and explore in.  Not to mention it was a bit older too so if it got a little dirty, no one would care.  Well, Nuala might give her a look, and Elain was fairly certain the maid was giving her mother reports on her actions.

That was something she could worry about later, Elain decided.

She carefully crept closer to the stream bed, the grass slick with the earlier rain.  Elain had always had good luck finding different colored rocks.  She loved the varying colors that could range from burgundy to pale blue.  Even the dull grays were fascinating especially if they had a distinct stripe or marking that—

Her foot slipped and before Elain could even attempt to right herself, she went spiraling face first into the river.

There was no way to catch herself.  She knew it the second she felt the shift of her stance.  Elain let out a shriek as she fell.  The cold watch sloshed around her and immediately seeped into her shoes, her dress.  Gasping, Elain floundered in the water until she sat up.  Soaked.  Utterly soaked.  And freezing.

The chill stole the air from her lungs and Elain could do nothing other than stare through the loose tendrils of her hair that had come free from her chignon.

“Lady Elain!” 

She heard the voice but couldn’t focus on anything other than how cold she was.  Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate either.  All she could do was sit in that water and let it wash around her.  It hadn’t been terribly deep, perhaps only halfway up her calves, but now it felt as though she’d been dragged hundreds of meters below the surface.

There was a loud splash from somewhere beside her and before Elain could register it, strong hands were dipping beneath her shoulders and legs and she was hauled against a broad, warm chest.

The arms that held her were firm and unyielding.  Elain could do little more than cling to his front and bury her face against his shoulder as the shivers took control. She could make out a strong masculine scent of sunlight and pine, it was oddly comforting in a strange, subtle way. 

When she was set down on solid ground, Elain’s knees buckled and she held on tighter to the arms around her.

“Easy,” a deep voice murmured in her ear.  “Easy.”

Elain shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut.  Oh she knew that voice.  She knew exactly who it was that held her.

“Are you alright?” Lucien Vanserra’s low voice hummed in her ear.  She wanted to push him away, to stand on her own, to—

Her knees buckled again and like some swooning heroine in a horrible broadsheet story—she clung tighter to the youngest Vanserra.  Elain was still too shocked and chilled to be embarrassed by this miserable state.  It didn’t help that Lucien exuded so much warmth.

“It seems I slipped,” she finally whispered.  She kept her eyes closed, willing her skin to stop flushing.  Maybe if she stayed still long enough, she’d just sink into the earth and vanish.

She felt the soft brush of his hand against her cheek, brushing a damp curl away.

“Indeed,” Lucien murmured.  His hand moved to run down her arm, rubbing warmth back into her. “I saw you tumble.  Are you sure you’re alright?”

Elain steeled herself before blinking her eyes open.  His own eyes were trained on her—russet brown with golden undertones, the left eye laced with pale scars along tender skin.  She took a slow breath.  Ever since their brief meeting when they were children, Elain had only seen him from a distance.  Nesta had whispered rumors that Beron Vanserra was not a good man and they shouldn’t engage with him or his family.  Duke or no.

But here and now, amid the soggy weather and cool breeze that mixed with her wet skirts--Elain found herself unable to pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” she whispered even as a shiver wracked her body.

Lucien chuckled darkly.  “Forgive me, but you look like a drowned rat, my lady.”  

The haze of surprise dissipated and Elain found herself scowling. “Well then, I shall be on my way.  I hate to be such an eyesore.”

She pulled away from that careful grasp he still held her in and nearly went slipping all over again.  Lucien caught before Elain fell.  His strong hands gripped her arms and his own sturdy build kept her grounded.

“Don’t go off in a huff,” he said.

Elain swatted his arms.  She was able to keep her balance this time as she managed to put some distance between them.

“I should have remembered how rude you are,” she snapped amid her shivers.

Gathering her skirts in her hands, Elain stalked off in the direction of her family home.  Lucien kept pace easily and before she could swat him again, he’d shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Warmth immediately enveloped her and Elain had to clamp her mouth shut to hold back the satisfied sigh that wanted to escape.

“We wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” Lucien said when she finally looked at him.

She didn’t know how else to respond to that other than to continue walking while he remained dutifully by her side.

…

The ball was off to a remarkable beginning.  Even if her mother had dragged her away from most of the inner workings of the planning--Elain noted with satisfaction that everything was still delightful.

The lights were perfect, the food continuous, and the small quartet in the corner extremely talented.  All from her careful deliberations.

Elain allowed her pride to be stroked for just a moment before it was dashed away by a familiar form approaching her side.  She couldn’t help the sharp inhale nor the way she shifted just so subtly toward him.

“Well, Lady Elain,” Lucien said, “we meet again.”

In the years since that regrettable day where she’d tumbled into the stream—Elain had done her best to avoid the youngest Vanserra.  At first it was embarrassment.  And then it turned to something else—something Elain didn’t know how to identify, only that when she simply thought about the young lord, her cheeks would heat and her heart thudded harder.  Embarrassment.  Anger.  Both seemed like decent explanations so in the end she focused on the latter.

Anger mostly at him for being so arrogant.  And teasing.

Ever since that day, Elain hadn’t known what to think or how to act toward him.  Certainly he had acted the gentleman and delivered her back home safely.  But he’d never called on her after, never passed a kind note, nor paid her any heed at dances or shared meals when they arose.

She, apparently, was utterly uninteresting.

“Indeed,” she said crisply.  She clutched her glass of punch tightly between her fingers, fully expecting the delicate glass to shatter at any moment.

“And fully set to ignore me too?”

Elain glared at him, despite her keen desire not to even acknowledge him. She lifted her chin, though it did little in making up the difference in their heights.  Lucien practically towered over her with a lean, but firm build.  He’d certainly filled out in the years since he’d saved her from the stream.  Heat flushed her skin and she looked away.

“No need to get shy on me now,” Lucien remarked, she caught the curve of a smile on his stupidly full lips. “We are betrothed after all.”

“How could I forget?” She set her drink down on the table she stood beside.  She turned her full attention to him and gave him the full effect of her scowl. “It’s only been drilled into me ever since the announcement.”

“No need to be so upset.” He only grinned at her expression.  “That hardly seems a way to enter a marriage.  It should be far more fun than that.”

She couldn’t do this.  Elain turned away, already looking for the best escape.  If only Feyre was here.  But Mother didn’t allow her to come to parties even if she were of age.  Nesta and Cassian were all the way on the other side of the ballroom speaking with the young Miss Gwyneth Berdara and Miss Emerie Costa.  It would be painfully obvious if she stalked straight across the hall for them leaving her betrothed standing there.

Well she could just leave the event all together.  Her mother hadn’t said anything about how long she would need to stay after seeing her intended.  She’d fulfilled her duty so she could now leave.

She saw her escape when the young general Jurian Renault and his wife Vassa Deveraux approached.  Elain was aware that her betrothed and the general had met at school and nearly been expelled together after a rebellion of sorts involving frogs, explosions, and crotchety old men.  She didn’t know much beyond that, but this would certainly be the perfect distraction.

As soon as Jurian called for Lucien, Elain swept away toward one of the back stairways that was hardly used by anyone—servants included.

She'd hardly made it out of the great hall before Lucien caught up to her. He didn't try to touch her, merely keeping just one step behind her.

“Lady Elain.” Lucien cut her off before she made it even a step up the stairs. “Is this how you plan to spend our marriage? Running from it?”

“Yes,” she said simply.  She tried to dodge around him but he was too quick for her.  Lucien stood firmly in front of her that even one stiff shove didn’t get him out of her way.  Bastard. “If you would get out of my way.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he replied.  He grinned, his teeth flashing, and Elain scowled as she tried to push him again.  Built like a wall, the man didn’t budge. “You and I have things to discuss.” 

There was an earnestness in his words even if his face appeared cut from stone.  Everything she’d heard about his father, his brothers, came rushing to the front of her mind and she had a hard time reconciling that cruelty.

“I am not a puppet for you to dress up and play with,” she told him.  He let her pass him this time and she hurried up the stairs that would take her to her rooms.  “Nor am I a wife you can brush aside without a second thought.”

“I never said you were,” Lucien said.  His ridiculously long legs kept him in pace with her.

“Please,” Elain scoffed.  She glared at him, mostly upset that she couldn’t storm away properly.  It was a lady’s prerogative to have equal storming rights.  “You’re getting a perfect little wife for your perfect little life.  I know the kind of man you are, Lord.”

He waited until they rounded the third floor before grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him.  Elain couldn’t help the little peep of surprise that escaped her when suddenly she was staring at his chest.  Steeling herself, Elain lifted her gaze and met his eyes.  Beautiful and russet brown, his left eye scarred through the corner.  It was, unfortunately, impossible to look away from him.  Perhaps it was his broad features, the deep tones of his skin.  Or even that subtle strength coiling within him.

There was something about Lucien Vanserra that called to her.  She didn’t know how to describe it, and that terrified her.  But she couldn’t help it.  She often found herself thinking about it, wondering what might be going on in that trickster-like mind of his.  And now here she was, so close she could smell whisky on his breath and cloves on his skin.

“You think I want this?” he asked. “That I asked for it?  You think you know me, Elain?”

The way he whispered her name sent a shiver racing through her.  She could do nothing to control it.  His voice was dark and heavy as he spoke as though he were trying desperately to hold something back.

“No,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “Perhaps I don’t know you.  But whose fault is that?”

A sharp smile.

“Oh?” he raised his hand to curl a finger beneath her chin. “It’s my fault, is it?”

She could only stare.  She feared that if she nodded it would just give her body permission to go falling into his arms like one of the heroines from Nesta’s favorite books.

“Yes,” she replied when it was clear he was waiting for her to answer. “You are not an easy person to know.”

Lucien laughed, laughed, at her.  The sound rumbled from him and sent flurries through Elain’s belly. “I’m not easy to know?  You, Elain, have never met yourself, have you?  For every chance I’ve tried to get to know you, you have ignored me.  Hiding behind tea cups and floral arrangements.  I have tried to reach out but you have said nothing.  Believe you me, say the word and I will be gone.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “You won’t leave.  This marriage contract benefits your father as much as mine.”

“I care not for my father,” Lucien said.  The mention of his father leeched the warmth that usually accompanied him away as suddenly as if she’d smothered him. His eyes sharpened though, boring into her. “Nor do I answer to him.”

Elain’s heart beat far too heavily in her chest.  They were up on the third floor of the mansion, the sounds of the party a mere hum in the background.  She should have been concerned about being alone with a man, being so close to him.  She should be concerned over the party continuing on without her for heaven’s sake.  But all Elain could do was stare into Lucien’s gaze.

She wet her lips, speaking before she lost her nerve. “Who do you answer to, then?”

A look flashed in his eyes and Elain swore it was hunger.  Desire.  Want.  No one had ever looked at her like this before.  It sent a flush through her entire body.  If she’d still had a wit of decorum left in her senses she would have shoved him away.  As it was, she arched toward him.  Whether it was simply for the connection of another human or for feeling more than the dainty woman everyone thought her to be--

Lucien’s eyes pierced her to the very soul.  And when he dipped in closer, Elain felt her breath catch.  One of his hands brushed over her cheek as though painting the blush right onto her skin.

Elain’s lips tingled in anticipation; certain he was about to kiss her.  Much to her surprise, and horror, she wanted him to.  In the years since the incident at the stream she’d tried not to think about him. She’d tried to forget that small taste of protectiveness and rebel against it. She'd become so used to being told what her life would be like and how she should act that now having him thrust upon her in such a manner made her want to shrink back. To fight any claim he might make over her.

But he did now want this either, did he? A forced marriage being controlled.  This was never what he'd imagined for himself…was it?

And yet there was a desperation to him as his hands went to her waist, fingers tightening in the fabric of her gown. He didn't want to let her go…despite it all.

"What do you want, Lucien?" She asked when the silence stretched too long.  

He leaned into her and Elain would have stumbled if he hadn't been supporting her she would have simply forgotten to stand sinking into those russet eyes of his.

"I," he began, but there was the click of a door and the two sprung apart looking for the source of the noise.

There emerging from her rooms in a simple blue dress was Feyre. She merely raised a brow.  Just because she wasn’t allowed to attend the ball downstairs did not mean she was supposed to stay in her rooms.  Well, their mother certainly expected it, but Elain knew her sister.  Feyre had likely stolen a bottle of wine and had a little nook set up on the roof with her paints and a canvas.

Feyre crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorway of her room. “I do hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

The drawl was pointed, amused.  Lucien emitted a low growl that only Elain could hear before he pulled away.  He made sure Elain would keep her footing this time.

The interruption was just what Elain needed. She pulled out of Lucien's grasp, not an easy task when he seemed determined not to let her go, and faced her sister.

“Feyre,” she said. “What are you doing?”

Feyre betrayed nothing as her blue eyes widened in innocence. “Simply out for a stroll and thought I'd heard your voice.” 

Her sister was a menace that shouldn't be trusted.

“Shouldn't you be enjoying the ball you planned?” Feyre continued, not moving from her perch in the doorway.  She gave a pointed look at Elain’s rumpled appearance. 

“Your sister was merely showing me about the manor,” Lucien stepped in lightly.

“Liar.” Amusement flashed in Feyre’s eyes.

“Feyre!” Elain could only stare at her sister. Seventh son or not, you didn't say such things to the son of a duke.

But Lucien merely laughed. “I can see why you're tucked away up here, not many could stand your sharp tongue, I take it.”

Feyre lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. “Consider it a good thing you're already betrothed. For I could make things miserable for you, Lord.”

Having had enough of this mess, Elain took Lucien's hand and pulled him down the hall, away from Feyre’s rooms.  She knew her sister’s threat was mild to say the least, Feyre hardly cared about propriety or what they’re mother said.

“Perhaps you should tend to your studio sister,” Elain said. She gave Feyre a significant look which mostly went ignored. 

“Good night,” Feyre sang lightly and then returned to her room, the door sticking shut behind her.

With no intention of showing Lucien Vanserra her bed chamber, Elain practically shoved him through the next available doorway, a broom closet, and rounded on him.  She’d misjudged how big the closet was because when she turned to more effectively yell at Lucien, he was far closer to her than she’d expected.  In fact, her nose nearly brushed his chest.  There was no where she could go because she was a fool who had stuffed herself and Lucien in said closet without any second thought.

Craning her neck to glare at him, Elain crossed her arms over her chest.  She ignored the fact that her bare arms ran along the soft fabric of his jacket sending small sparks along her skin.

Lucien meets her gaze, raising a brow that stretches out the scars that line one side of his face.

“Really, Elain?  I thought you wanted to avoid this sort of scandal?”

As if anyone would care if they were stuffed in a closet together.  If anything, it would only make her mother happy as they would be forced to move the wedding date up.  A thought that churned Elain’s stomach.

Still, she set her jaw and did her best to appear to be looking down her nose at him. “Scandal.  Our mothers would happily march us down the aisle tomorrow if they could.”

“Indeed,” Lucien mused.  “Seems a bit silly then that we continue with a betrothal if that is the case.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ll retain what little freedom I have left for a bit longer, thank-you.”

Lucien’s brow ticked higher in the silent ask: then what are we doing in this damnable closet?  Or something close to it because that was certainly the thought racing through her own mind.

“By spending the duration of your party in a closet,” he murmured instead.  His breath aired out against her face: warm and tainted with the spicy scent of whiskey.

“It’s my mother’s party,” Elain said, a bit too sharply.  Even though she’d been the one to organize everything to confirm the menu to— “And she made it clear I’m supposed to spend time with my betrothed.  So really, I’m doing exactly what is expected of me.”

A small huff of amusement escaped Lucien’s lips and he shook his head.  “Well, congratulations on that, I suppose.”

“Thank-you.”

Another smile turned up the corners of his mouth, his stupidly attractive mouth.  

She took a small moment to force a quick breath, praying it would calm her erratic heartbeat.  It didn’t work and she felt a flush begin to rise along her skin, creeping across her collarbone and neck.

“You wished to speak to me,” she said, voice quiet in an effort to hold back her flurry of emotions, “isn’t that why you chased me all around my home?”

That smile of his remained even as he pulled back to put space between them once more. “I know this marriage is not ideal for both of us, however, it is one that will benefit both of our families.  Which we’re both concerned with.”

He gave her a significant look; the kind that said he was well aware of the pressures she was under from her parents.

“And?” she pressed, ready to get out of this damned closet that was somehow getting too small--the walls closing too tight around them and the scent of his cologne too strong and delicious.

“And I propose an…understanding,” he said.  He paused as he considered his next words. “There is no escaping what awaits us, but we need not be miserable.”

Elain’s stomach churned at his words and what he could mean.  She wasn’t a dunce, she knew that displeasure and unhappiness prevailed in most marriages of the -ton, her parents for example.  But that’s not what she wanted.  She wanted a marriage and happiness and a husband who favored her.  And now here was her intended off to suggest affair partners before they were even wed.

“I would that we could be friends,” Lucien said, cutting in to the spiral of Elain’s thoughts.

She frowned; certain she hadn’t heard him right. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

Staring up at him, Elain tried to read his face.  It was impassive as ever, the only thing showing any trait of personality being the scars that emanated from his eye.  Though, she supposed that didn’t count.

“You want to be my friend?” she asked.  Such a thing had never occurred, nor been proposed, to her.  Mama always said that men wanted one thing and one thing alone and they would use her for it in any way they could.  Besides, Elain had never had a real friend before.  She could never trust her maids or ladies in waiting—they were all too loyal to Mama.  She had her sisters, but Nesta was married now and Feyre had her own little tricks up her sleeves.  They’d never been close and Elain doubted they ever would.

“Yes.”

And Elain, for some strange reason, believed him.  For the most part.  She wouldn’t let him behave so casually and confidently though.  

“And what does being your friend entail?” she asked.  Curious to see how he would define the word.  It wasn’t as though she had a good definition herself, but that didn’t matter.

Amusement flashed briefly in his eyes before vanishing entirely.  

“Never had a friend before, Lady Elain?” He asked it with amusement and fully of jest but the question pierced straight to her soul.

Because no; she’d never had a friend before.  Not really.  Not a close confidant nor companion.  Oh, she had her sisters, but theirs was a strange thing to where Elain wasn’t sure exactly where they stood together. 

Realizing she’d been quiet for too long, Elain merely shrugged. “Never one so misbehaving as you.”

That got a full laugh out of him.  Rich and bright, Elain knew she wouldn’t forget the sound of it anytime soon.  She didn’t think she’d ever heard him laugh like that.

“I suppose I can try and be better,” he said, “for you.”

“That’s all I would ask of you,” Elain said, with far more bravado than she felt. She then repeated her earlier question. “What would you ask of me, as your friend?”

“To trust me, to talk to me.” 

He made it sound so easy that Elain just kept watching him, waiting for the impossible requirement to rear its head.

“That’s it?”

“For now.”  And just like that his roguish nature returned and whatever brief kinship Elain may have thought present evaporated.  His eyes gleamed with obvious merriment and a subtle slouch entered his posture.

Elain did her best to rise to her full height as she glared at him, which only made him smirk.  With as much dignity she could muster, Elain reached around him to the door of the closet to shove it open.  She needed space, needed fresh air, needed to not be so close to him while her mind ran rampant and chaotic.

“Until the next,” Lucien said. 

Ever the gentleman, Lucien took her hand.  He leaned in to press a kiss to the back of her fingers.  Elain ignored the way her stomach clenched and her skin tingled.  But it was hard to ignore the way his hand practically dwarfed hers and his woodsy scent wrapped around her.

And just like that, he slipped out of the closet to leave her alone with her thoughts.  Thoughts that were not conducive to friendship.  And thoughts that were simply not real to begin with.  Because Lucien Vanserra, and whatever understanding they’d come to, was never going to lead her to happiness.

[espresseo-cafe]

life is still beautiful | johnny | ch.1

genre: cappucino, romance, angst, university!au, dad!au, drama, slice of life

pairing: collegestudent!johnny x fem!reader

bean count: 4k

a/n: i’m so excited to be sharing this with you! it has been in the works since 2020 on and off and omg i can finally post this fanfic. this whole series has mentions of characters from different groups other than nct- red velvet, dreamcatcher, seventeen, sf9, etc to avoid confusion with people of the same name! note: this is only a work of fiction, it doesn’t reflect the artists’ personalities in any way.

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growing up, the continuous tingling feeling whenever you see your parents arguing at the end of your hallway always broke your heart. the raised voices, objects getting thrown around, and the banging of slammed doors against the doorframe deafened your ears. you remembered you had to knock on every single apartment on the floor; same, above, and below- to apologise the nuisance your parents caused. some with good hearts would understand out of pity for you, others would provoke to kick your family out of the building. so far, you’ve made it to several years without any notice from the landlord.

with that background, there weren’t any doubts that it affected the way you perceive everything in life. silence overpowered the joyous you like a large coat, it has been that way. the younger you wouldn’t understand the clash of your parents. the younger you wouldn’t know the problems they had. most importantly though, the younger you wouldn’t receive any love or support from them at all.

it was like you never existed.

as you hit the eighteenth mark, you’ve made the bold but practical decision to move out. the toxicity they emitted were too much for you to handle. with every penny or dime you’ve been saving everyday since you were twelve and some extra cash from various part time jobs since you were sixteen, you had your small carry on luggage packed and left first thing in the morning one summer. a dilemma kind of held you back whether to leave a note for your mom and dad, only deciding not to and tell them not to find you.

if there was anything you were blessed with even if you were put in a dire situation of a broken home, you had to pat yourself at the back for never failing your grades. just average and sometimes in the honorable mention’s list. thanks to that, you’ve secured a place at a university far from your family home.

and of course, choosing a location far off was more than intentional.

the first few months were a challenge, the surroundings took you sometime to familiarise. adjustment was never an issue though, running away from home was worth the change. as you expected, your parents didn’t bother to look for their only daughter. scoffing at the past, you realised it had almost been three years since you left.

making friends was easy too, to your surprise. known as the loner and depressed type in high school, you tried to change yourself a bit and managed to befriend a new crowd of people. of course, you were discerning on people who are worth to befriend, not the ones who’d waste your time. one of them being kim yoohyeon, who’s now your best friend and roommate.

“y/n, i’m going out to the store, want anything?” she asked while putting on a cardigan.

you hummed and rolled your eyes playfully, “hm, two packs of ramyeon and chips. you’re paying alright?” she threw a crumpled ball of tissue at you, gasping at the very direct response. “what? it’s two in the morning and i’m helping you pull an all-nighter for your fashion thesis due in two months and a half. i deserve a treat. be thankful i don’t have class tomorrow and that my part-time’s in the afternoon.”

“okay fine.” she dramatically slouched her shoulders down, “be back in a jiffy bub!”

as the door closed, you sighed and stretched your almost numbed body. yoohyeon’s project was half done, just needed a little more tweaking and you could say hello to a convenience store feast.

yoohyeon was the first person you met at orientation, she seemed to extract innocence at first glance. though as you got to know her, she was a meme in real life who possessed extreme talent in singing. you and her clicked, she had problems in her home but they were immediately managed. so she was all smiles from ear to ear. it was something you were envious of; to have a healthy relationship with parents, however, it wasn’t working with you at all.

sometimes you wondered how it felt like, to have someone love you like family. your aunts or uncles would message you to check on you, and whenever they brought your parents up, you shoved down the topic back to its grave. it’s dead conversation anyway. the latest update you heard from them was two years ago. they still lived in the same damned roof where they argued a lot, you wondered why they were still stuck to each other like glue. the only difference was that your dad worked the night shift while your mom on the mornings. so they probably never see each other eye to eye.

when they did though, all hell broke loose.

you were brushed off your thoughts when yoohyeon opened the door, “okay, here’s your food, time to pig out!”

“finally, i’m starving.” you had the hot water boiling before she arrived, immediately putting the ramyeon in the pot.

“so,” she started, opening a bag of potato chips.

“when are you planning to date? it’s been theee years since uni started and i’ve never seen you on dates before.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line, “not right now.”

“why not? you’re pretty, you can cook; you’re even taking an early childhood education course, specifically in special education.” she plopped one into her mouth and chewed shamelessly, “i bet you’re good with kids too.”

“so apparently that makes me an ideal girl?”

“an ideal girl worth to have!” she exclaimed, later reaching for your unlocked phone. “guess what, download this app and go have some fun.”

“if that’s tinder you’re planning on brainwashing me with, i’m not interested.” you joked, mixing the sauce and toppings with the now cooked noodles.

“you never know, it might work.” she singsonged.

you sighed, yoohyeon has been pushing you to date because she felt like you were like a hermit, always stuck in your own shell and would only go out if needed to. not that you were interested, you just wanted to get school done and make a stable living. love will come anyway.

she clicked on the app store and downloaded a trendy app named ‘love click’. “it’s an app solely made for university students within the state. kinda like tinder but you play anonymous with a made up nickname, no one will know how you look like.”

you raised a brow. “that’s dangerous than tinder, y’know?”

“this is different, they can detect fake accounts and do a facial recognition. anyway, once you put your actual photo and real age, it will automatically pair you with others similiar with yours; interests, and hobbies. then it will change your face to a random avatar if ever you do a video call.” she tapped away. “that’s how i met hwang minhyun.”

“eh, i still think it’s risky. besides, you just got lucky. you scored a hottie.” you slurped on the noodles. “i could never.”

“just try, you could always quit and they’ll never find you. and who knows? you might even receive the whole package.”

you sighed, “okay fine. i’ll do it just once, for you alright?” you finished the rest and threw the excess soup away. “i’m not doing any after that.”

“cool! all your details are in here already. let me know if someone messages you.” she gave you a playful wink before working on her project once again.

—

johnny stretched his limbs after a quick power nap, he haven’t had enough rest since he was on the clock 24/7. he turned to his side to check the time, sighing a relief when it was only 3pm. as if it was waiting for him to be awake, a text message from his mom appeared on the screen.

[ mom] : “don’t forget to eat, my dear john. you’ve got two mouths to feed ❤️”

johnny smiled at his mom’s reminder, he was relieved that the messages were reduced to a low, knowing how protective she was.

a loud thud on the floor made johnny stand on his feet and rush to the door next to his. his worried demeanor soon changed to a soft one when he saw a little smile beamed at him from the ground.

“youngmin-ah, what’re you doing on the floor? did you hurt yourself?”

the child just giggled, softening johnny’s heart every single he did so.

he remembered the night when the almost two year old came into his life. it was a rough beginning, but he managed himself and was proud how he actually did while still in school.

his friends were in full support of this unexpected scenario and would take turns in looking after the child while he worked the night shifts at a café. like any other people, his friends were in doubt at his decision of bringing him to lectures.

johnny again proved them wrong.

what surprised them wasn’t how the baby managed to be quiet in all of the classes, but how johnny effortlessly handled him if ever a fuss was made. kun recalled that in one of their exams in biology major, johnny had the baby cradled in one arm as the other wrote the quiz. the professor wanted to hold the baby boy while johnny did the exam, but young man refused to, saying that he could handle it. he wouldn’t want the baby crying in a stranger’s hold while everyone was so stressed for the exams. adding that the baby’s wails would be a distraction.

he became viral at the university page when a photo of him feeding youngmin a bottle of milk, that certain scenario made girls want him as a husband. sometimes they would stop by to say hello to him and the child.

“dada.” johnny smiled at title, the little toddler fiddling the bottle in his hand while his feet stretched up.

“seems like you’re alright.” he poked his nose, earning a giggle from the two year old. “i still have to check any injuries. say youngmin, your birthday’s coming up soon. what would you like?”

youngmin hummed, as if he understood the question clearly.

“well?”

“mama.”

johnny was caught off guard that he tickled the little toddler as he smiled. “buddy, you already have a mama though.” his phone dinged, indicating an incoming text message. “speaking of her, she just texted me.”

[ kim minji ]: sorry babe, couldn’t make it tonight for dinner. i got singing rehearsals.

[ johnny ]: it’s cool. how about tomorrow?

[ kim minji ]: i’ll see first, pretty busy.

he put his phone back into his pocket, sighing at the same excuse his girlfriend gave. he didn’t want to overthink but it had been like this for a while, he wondered if she had fallen out of love. shaking his head, he shrugged off the thought to the back of his mind.

youngmin turned his full body to the side before standing and climbed onto johnny’s kneeled figure, the bottle still in between his baby teeth. “mama, where?”

“she’s not coming home tonight. maybe some other time.” he ruffled youngmin’s soft hair, eyes closing due to exhaustion. but then the little toddler smiled and patted his cheek and johnny wrapped his arms around the little frame. “come on, let’s get you dinner, we’re having your favourite!”

“lasagna!” youngmin put arms up, and johnny could melt anytime.

“hey you said it perfectly this time! well done my so-“ he paused as his phone dinged, a snapchat notification from taeyong appeared on the screen. making the toddler tilt his head to why the young man stopped mid-sentence. “let’s go to wash your hands alright?”

while youngmin nodded then hopped away towards the bathroom, swiping to unlock his phone, a snap video that his said friend sent made his eyebrows meet in an ugly mood.

[ taeyongss ]: bro is that jiu? your mj?

it was his girlfriend giving a lap dance to someone he couldn’t seem to recognise due to the flashing lights, she was enjoying it and the shocking thing was, she wasn’t drunk at all.

kim minji, his girlfriend since senior high, had a few names labeled on her. one of them was jiu (pronounced as ji-yoo) a nickname everyone called her in school, being one of the main solos for the choir.

some of the juniors called her a pink princess because of her obsession with the said colour. owning almost everything in it.

and mj was a form of endearment that only johnny used. his expression changed from a smile to a frown, throwing his phone on the bed that it bounced off and landed on the ground; earning his phone a crack on the screen.

“dada?” youngmin peeked through the bedroom door. now it was him to hear the thudding sound. “happen?”

johnny jumped a little seeing the child standing by the door with a towel in his hands. “my phone fell. come on, let’s eat.”

lasagna was a favourite dish youngmin adored eversince he brought him to an italian restaurant. meatballs were a favourite too, but something about lasagna topped it. as youngmin was busy making his hands dirty, johnny called his mom at this hour, she was probably home by now.

“ah my love johnny! i’m glad you called, what is it?” her voice still bright and lively.

“um, i was wondering if i could drop youngmin off tonight?” he played with the fork. “taeyong messaged me and i think i need to have a drink and hang out for a bit.”

his mom’s soft laughter brought relief to his ears, “oh sure my dear, your dad and i could need some company. it’s been quiet around here since you’ve grown.”

johnny smiled at the reply, “great, we’ll be there in ten.”

“see you later.” she singsonged.

after dropping youngmin off, he made his way to the bar where his girlfriend was. everyone who met johnny knew that he could be reckless when someone crossed over the line, who knows what scene he’d make tonight?

“johnny.” taeyong called out after seeing him enter the bar, johnny walking towards the bar where his friend was stationed at. “please don’t make a scene. my boss let you off the hook the last time you broke loose.”

johnny’s eyes scanned the area, looking for mj before looking at back at taeyong. “don’t worry. i won’t. this johnny won’t do anything.”

“better keep your word. she’s by the corner over there.” taeyong pointed with his head, “she’s been here for the past three months. good thing i’m the only one from campus who has seen her. if anyone else did she’d lose her solo spot at the choir. so called ‘angel’, huh? no offense.”

“none taken, but thanks bro. see you later at the dorms.” johnny said, then he walked through partygoers, the blasting music was deafening so much he hated it.

“i know right? he’s such a sweetheart.” mj said to her friend as she patted the guy’s shoulder who she danced with earlier. “i’d love to-“

“mj.” johnny’s cold voice rung in her ears, sending shivers to her spine. what is he doing here? “i’m guessing rehearsals ended early or it never existed.”

“babe i-“

“ey johnny suh!” the guy seated next to her greeted him drunkenly, the more he looked closer in the dimmed light, his blood boiled. “haven’t seen you since you had a baby! minji has been great to me recently.”

it was his high school rival, takuya terada.

“we’ll catch up soon won’t we?” johnny said sarcastically. takuya wouldn’t know anyway, his vision probably already blurry to even comprehend a straight conversation. he looked at minji, who averted her gaze towards him as she rolled her eyes. “we need to talk, outside.”

he took her by the wrist and he didn’t care if he was hurting her. she hurt him first; for a while now actually. he just had to put up a front before he vent out when they exited the bar.

“what the hell, minji.” he threw his grip away, minji holding her wrist and tsk-ed at the attitude. “is that why you’ve been missing out lately? you were cheating on me with takuya?”

“missing out? johnny you’ve been missing out too!” she raised her voice, “i don’t know if you have noticed but it’s been straining on the both of us recently!”

“so your solution was to hang out with another guy when you could’ve voiced out to me about your feelings? mj, we’ve talked about this!” he wiped his face frustatingly. “i don’t think-“

“i don’t love you anymore, john.” she said blankly, her face didn’t emit any pain she felt, it was like she wanted it out there. “that’s why i’ve been ‘missing out’.”

“you don’t.. love me anymore?” johnny stood in shock, his voice shaking a little.

“i fell out of love. i’m sorry.. i’ve been planning to tell you but i couldn’t.” she hugged her arms. “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

“my gut feeling told me there was something up. i was hurt just thinking about it. i don’t know but somehow i knew it all along that you were out of it. i didn’t bring it up because i held onto hope and believed my guts were lying that you cheated on me.” he said, his hands rested on his hip. “turns out i was right.”

“i’m sorry.”

“save it. i’m not hurt at all. maybe i just had to come here to confirm if it were true. you can live with that guilt that you’ve broken me already before you even said anything. i’ll raise youngmin myself. we’re done.”

johnny walked away while the cold wind sliced through his cheeks. usually in a breakup, one would break down. him and minji dated since high school, and there were on and off arguments here and there. they would always make up through talking, but to be told that she was cheating on him by another person sure sucked. he’d rather find it out himself and vent out right then and there.

guess this timing was actually better. though he told minji he was broken, he was actually so much more than that. he expected to at least shed a tear, he didn’t, for youngmin’s sake. even though he felt like an elephant was lifted off his shoulders, his heart was anchored deep below.

he felt so heavy with betrayal that his heart ached so much in a way he didn’t expect.

he wanted to break down so bad.

the door swung open of his family home and youngmin screeched a high pitched tone loud enough to startle the old man beside him, who was reading a newspaper. “oh john’s back.”

“dada.” the little one ran towards him, hugging his long legs for a second before johnny picked him up. “back!”

johnny’s mood changed like a shooting star whenever youngmin’s in sight. “hey little buddy! i’m back, i had to meet a friend earlier.” he kissed his cheek, “were you good to granny bear and papa bear?”

“he was an angel, john!” his mom gave her son a quick peck on the cheek. “who knew you could raise him very well? plus singlehandly!”

“he got it from me, my dear.” his dad took the chance to say, “are your studies going well though?”

“still a dean’s lister, dad.” johnny’s ears tinted a light shade of pink.

“that, he got it from me.” his mom winked at his dad, who scoffed at the remark. “where’s minji? you haven’t brought her here for a while.” the look on johnny’s face was too readable that his mom knew in an instant.

“we broke up. she had another guy behind my back.”

the sudden snickers from his parents left him in question, were they laughing? “great ‘cause we didn’t really like her for you!”

“really?.. wait, what?” he asked in disbelief, “anyway, i broke it off and i kinda knew she was out of it already.”

“took you a while to realize it, john.” his father just sighed, “are you going to get a new one?”

“what? no.” johnny chuckled awkwardly, “anyway we’ll take our leave now.” johnny shook youngmin a little before his parents bid them a goodbye. he walked towards his car and buckled him up. “ready to go, buddy?”

“ready.” he wiped his eyes, sleep covering him very soon. “music please.”

“which one?” johnny asked as he set the rear mirror to get a good look at him, knowing well what youngmin was going to say.

“coldplay!” they said simultaneously.

“now that, you got it from me.” he laughed heartily while they made their way back to his shared apartment with taeyong, jungwoo, and kun.

the clinks of the apartment keys had the boys look up from their game on playstation. jungwoo sighing frustratedly when kun defeated him thrice in a row. “seriously? you’re cheating, kun hyung!”

kun stretched, “clearly not. you’re just a bad player.”

“could one of you dumbasses get the kimchi from the table?” taeyong shouted from the kitchen, only to be greeted with youngmin having the wanted side dish in his tiny hands. “see, youngmin just got here and he did a better job than you two!”

“it’s loud in here, damn.” johnny took his shoes off while youngmin had his phone in his hands.

kun sat on one of the couches, eating the kimchi fried rice taeyong just made. “so you met up with minji, how did the dinner go?”

taeyong nudged the younger boy, and jungwoo looked confused. johnny couldn’t blame the two, they didn’t know what actually happened. “these two lovebirds called it quits tonight.”

“what!?”

“yup.” johnny popped his lips, “takuya terada”

kun’s eyes widened, “like.. takuya from high school?”

“they suit each other anyway, the biggest flirts of ____ high.” jungwoo chewed on a kimbap. “no offense.”

“none taken, i feel relieved anyway.” he sat down spotting taeyong busy typing on his phone. “you still looking for girls on love click?”

“well yeah, someone should at least find me attractive.” he replied.

jungwoo snickered before choking on his food, “as if anyone would see your face through a filter system on the app. just what is the university thinking?”

“ha, wait until they see this handsome thing for real.” he turned to johnny, “bro you should try looking for new love, you’re in need of it right now, you know?” taeyong locked his phone to continue eating the almost midnight dinner.

“please, i’m still freshly ‘heartbroken’, don’t tempt me.” johnny rolled his eyes.

“mama.” youngmin shook the huge phone, a selfie of johnny and minji flashed the screen.

“not mama anymore.” he told him, then youngmin clicked on another app.

“mama.” he showed them the love click app; the color scheme of red and pink caught his attention. and johnny scrunched his brows, the other three smirking at each other.

“seems like he wants a new mama.” kun teased, earning a death glare from johnny. “what? that whole daddy look of yours is attractive to almost every girl in campus. just wife someone up already!”

shaking his head, he couldn’t believe the encouragement from his friend. “too soon my bros.” johnny chuckled, “maybe i’ll give it try after a few weeks or so.”

johnny sat by the bed while youngmin slept with his sausage pillow. now that he thought about it, the little boy hadn’t seen minji in months. it was obvious that he’d look for her. but what he didn’t get was that he showed love click; a dating app he didn’t remember installing.

“mama.” he recalled youngmin say.

he dimmed the lights and sat beside youngmin, patting his bottom gently as he drifted away into slumber, he too was getting sand in his eyes. he pressed his lips into a thin line, halfheartedly created an account just in case he really needed it.

“this is stupid.”

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taglist: @titanmaknae29 @joepomonerof @lovesuhng @studyingthemind @cheyehc

[blorbobutworse]

More Teen Dad Logan AU:

he's around 20 when this happens, having gotten his GED at 18, and taken a year off to settle more into normal life and bond with Laura.

I think he would actually love community college. There's a ton of different people of a ton of different ages. Firefighters, other single parents, other young people, even retirees.

I also imagine he takes up boxing, as advised by Charles, to get him to talk to other people. The fact that he's good at teaching is quickly discovered, and he finds himself with a part-time job.

I also believe the best degree would be something technical, like welding or autobody. Hell, he might even work towards getting a degree to work with Motorcycles since he likes his so much.

Now, imagine: he's finished his classes and he's going to go home for lunch before heading to the boxing gym, when he gets unfortunate news: Victor can't keep watching Laura, because his Evil math professor threw a project on him that was due that night, and his groupmates were all non mutants, and thus not allowed into Xavier’s.

Logan explains the situation to his boss, planning to just head home and stay there, to which his boss just responds: why don't you just bring your kid?

He's a little unsure, because for all his talk about how much he loves Laura he's also tried his best to keep his work life and personal life separate.

Still, making money and getting to take care of his kid sounds good. Victor agrees to stop by the workout center to drop her off.

He picks her up with one arm like a piece of luggage, and slings her diaper bag over his other shoulder. He breathes, nods to Vic, and turns He walks into work, and there is a beautiful, ringing moment of silence-

and then everyone attacks them.

See.

Here's the thing.

Despite Logans young age, his demeanor and experience sort of led everyone to believe he was in his mid twenties, early thirties. So, they sort of thought he was going to bring around a kindergartener, maybe a preteen.

Not a toddler.

And, Laura is adorable. She has tiny little low cheek dimples, Logan's piercing blue eyes, an her hair is a light mousy brown. Even cuter, she was already giggling hysterically from being carried around like a fancy dog.

This, obviously, means that the entire room of grown men are immediately turned into a pile of goo.

Logan's swarmed by roughly 30 guys, all trying to say 'hi' to Laura first and show her 'all the cool stuff; they can do. This ends up ranging from an older man squeezing a heavy grip machine, to the seventeen and nineteen year old doing handstands. Lo just freezes, pulling his daughter closer to him in an aborted motion to protect her from the wave of people surrounding them

Finally, Logan's boss manages to wrangle (ie. scream even louder than Sabretooth himself) everyone away from the baby and back to doing their lessons.

The next half hour is pretty typical. Logan helps people on their form, does a guided fight, and assists the older man unwrap his hands after his practice.

Then, seventeen year old boy, a redhead, and nineteen year old. a brunet, are muttering in between each other for a minute after their lesson. Eventually, they flit over to Logan to ask. He's waiting for something to do anyway, with Laura in his lap as she plays on his phone.

Logan agrees to watch over their match, and calls for them to start.

In less than twenty seconds, something seems to change. The brown haired boy says something that obviously irritates the seventeen year old. He twitches, and then thumps the other boy with a punch to the gut that sends the nineteen year old strait to this knees, where he gags.

everyone in the room stops to look, and it's only then when they realize that Laura just saw that.

They think she's going to be frightened, maybe even burst into tears. She's little after all, she must be scared or at least freaked out.

Instead, she throws her head back and cackles in a way that would be terrifying if she wasn't three.

....it was still a little terrifying.

(Logan chuckles too, but that's mostly because he knows she's copying sabretooth.)