#that's like as long as the parts of the story i want to write for this au I'M SO SORRY

[eclipixels]

Our past?

Sylus x Reader

Content: After discovering your past life with Sylus and his promise to restore your memories, you find yourself eager to hear the stories of your past from him.

Warnings: : slight angst if you squint your eyes

[2,118 words]

A/N: Sylus’s myth has been weighing on my mind, it’s absolutely heartbreaking. Forbidden love?? Like?? Ugh. I had to write something to make it hurt less :’).

      After discovering the truth about your past life, a storm of emotions had raged within you. Anger, betrayal, disbelief. How could Sylus have kept something so monumental from you? How could he have known and simply chosen not to tell you? The argument that followed had been fierce, but in the end, he relented, promising to restore your lost memories tomorrow morning. Now, the fire had dimmed, replaced by a quiet restlessness you couldn't shake.

      “Won’t you at least come to bed, darling?” Sylus murmured, his voice softer than usual, his sharp eyes now wide and pleading. You exhaled, exasperated yet unable to deny him. With a tired sigh, you crawled over, settling on top of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath you.

      "Sylus?"

      "Hm?"

      "Tell me about our past," you whispered. He had promised to return your memories tomorrow, but waiting felt unbearable. The unknown loomed too heavily over you, making it impossible to sleep.

      He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Impatient, aren’t you? Can’t even wait until tomorrow?"

      "You’re one to talk about being greedy," you huffed, shifting slightly against him.

      “I know,” he admitted, the grin that spread across his lips filled with something more than amusement, something nostalgic, as if the weight of the past he had once tried to forget was now something he wanted to remember.

      He studied you for a moment before continuing, “Did you know you were a princess, princess?” His smirk widened at his own joke, reveling in the play on words.

      You rolled your eyes, but your curiosity overpowered your exasperation. "A princess?"

      "Ivory City," he said, watching for recognition in your gaze. "They accused you of being a sorcerror because you took pity and sympathy on my kind, so they cast you out."

      "How primitive," you muttered, unimpressed by the cruelty of a kingdom you barely remembered.

      "Indeed," he agreed, his tone laced with a quiet sort of amusement. "They feared what they couldn't understand."

      A brief silence stretched between you before he added, “You also gave me my name, but I already told you that.”

      You sighed, tilting your head slightly. "You still haven’t taught me how to pronounce your actual name." It was something you had discovered earlier, before the argument, before the flood of fragmented memories revealed pieces of his dragon life with you in Philos.

      Sylus hummed, clearly unbothered by the notion. “It’s irrelevant,” he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles against your back. “I like your version of my name better. Your claim on me.” His grin returned, sharper now, something possessive glinting behind his eyes. A name you gave him that he’s used ever since. Your lips parted slightly, heart skipping a beat at the weight of his words. You had claimed him once before, long ago, in another life. And now, in this one, you were beginning to do it all over again.

      Sylus smirked, his voice dropping into something teasing. “Did you also know that once, back when we still held nothing but disdain for each other, I wrapped my hand around your throat, and you—” He let out a short laugh, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You moaned.”

      You jolted upright, eyes wide. “I did what?!” you shrieked, horrified.

      His laughter only deepened, rich and unbothered. “It was certainly… unique,” he mused, tilting his head as if replaying the memory in his mind. “I’ve threatened plenty of people before, but never had anyone react quite like that.”

      Heat flared across your face as you groaned, burying yourself against his chest in embarrassment. “I hate you.”

      “No, you don’t,” he chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss against the top of your head.

      A moment of silence passed, the air between you settling into something softer, something steeped in nostalgia. “Most nights,” Sylus murmured, “we spent our time together under the moonlight.”

      You closed your eyes, letting his voice guide you through the fragments of a past you desperately wished to reclaim. “I can’t wait to get my memories back,” you hummed. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you all over again.”

      His fingers curled gently around your waist, holding you close. “There were times,” he continued, voice quieter now, “when you would see my true form, and I expected you to be afraid. I thought you’d run, that you’d look at me like I was a monster.” He paused, as if caught in the memory. “But you didn’t. Instead, you traced your much smaller hand over my scales and horns. You—” He swallowed. “You still loved me.”

      “How couldn’t I?” you whispered, pressing closer.

      Sylus exhaled, the tension in his body unraveling. “Back then, I didn’t know what love was,” he admitted. “You introduced me to that.”

      You lifted your head slightly, gazing up at him. “Really?”

      His lips curled into something almost reverent, something achingly fond. “Really.

      “That’s beautiful,” you murmured, voice soft with drowsiness.

      Sylus smiled faintly, fingers tracing idle patterns against your waist and thighs. “My favorite memory might be when I took you to that flower field,” he mused, pausing expectantly for your response.

      But you said nothing. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to glance down at you.

“Kitten, are you asleep?” he asked after a long stretch of silence, broken only by the soft sound of your breathing. A quiet snore escaped you. You weren’t asleep, but he didn’t have to know that.

      His chest rose and fell with a slow inhale before he continued anyway, his voice dipping into something raw.

      “The reason why…” he started, then hesitated. For once, the words didn’t come so easily. “The reason why I withheld these memories and this information from you was because I knew it would break you.”

      A heavy silence settled between you, thick and suffocating.

      “I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that we have half of our souls in each other.” His fingers curled slightly against your skin. That much, you had already discovered. The truth that the two of you were irreversibly connected, bound by something ancient and inescapable.

      His next words came quieter, almost as if he didn’t want to admit them out loud. “But I just… I couldn’t let you know that we were destined for death.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “It was greedy of me. I wanted you all to myself, even if it meant keeping the truth from you. But the curse of a dragon’s beloved is to die. And you—” His voice wavered, the weight of his confession nearly unbearable. “You were destined to kill me, as my archenemy.”

      His breath hitched, and he let his eyes fall shut. “I didn’t want you to know that,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But I realized… it’s not just my story. It’s yours too. And you deserve to know.”

      The words hung in the air between you, fragile and aching. His throat worked as he tried to steady himself, but his voice still cracked, betraying the turmoil he had tried so hard to suppress. Still, you didn’t move, didn’t respond. But your fingers twitched ever so slightly against his chest.

      You hadn’t even realized you were crying until the warm tears spilled onto Sylus’s chest. They fell silently, one after another, pooling against his skin like echoes of a grief you weren’t prepared to feel.

      “Sweetheart?” Sylus called out, his voice laced with concern. His arms tightened slightly around you. “Are you alright?”

      “It hurts,” you whispered, your voice small, fragile. “Why was our story so sad?”

      He exhaled, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I don’t know, my love,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “This is why I didn’t want you to know.”

      A shuddering breath left you as you stared at the space between you, the past pressing in on your chest like an unbearable weight. “Did I hurt you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

      Sylus stilled for a moment before letting out a small, knowing sigh. He tilted your chin up, thumb brushing away the tears clinging to your lashes. “Sweetie, that’s all in the past for a reason,” he murmured. “None of that destiny, archnemesis, dragons-destroying-cities, royalty-and-war bullshit matters here.” He smirked slightly, attempting to lighten the mood. “Well, maybe the part about our souls being tied for eternity, but I’m not complaining about that part.”

      You sniffled, staring up at him with a wobbly frown.

      “Oh, and wanderers,” he added, scowling. “That part I do complain about.”

      You huffed a small laugh despite yourself, but your expression quickly turned serious again. “You didn’t answer my question, though,” you said, eyes searching his. “Did I hurt you?”

      Sylus hesitated. “Well…”

      “Stop it. Just tell me.”

      A sigh, followed by a lopsided, almost sheepish grin. “Maybe you stabbed me.”

      Your mouth fell open. “Maybe?”

      “But it wasn’t entirely on purpose,” he continued hastily. “Not out of your own volition. In fact, you didn’t want to kill me at all. That’s why you chose to tie our souls together instead.” He pulled your leg up to wrap around him tighter. “You chose to save me instead of killing me. Our souls became bound, incapable of betraying each other.”

      “Incapable of betraying each other?” you echoed, brows furrowing before your expression morphed into something accusatory. “Oh, really? Then what about that time you ate my sandwich I was saving for later?”

      Sylus blinked. “Uh—”

      “Actually, no. You didn’t even eat it yourself,” you fumed. “You gave it to Mephisto. A mechanical bird. I don’t even know if he can digest organic material!”

      “So feisty,” Sylus murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Lifetimes of love, and yet, you’re still a brat.”

      “Hey!” You gasped, feigning offense, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

      He only chuckled, shaking his head. Then, his expression turned mischievous as he pointed a finger at you accusingly. “But, you do realize—I can never die unless you’re the one who kills me.”

      You smirked, crossing your arms. “Oh, I was so smart for doing that.”

      Sylus let out a full-bodied laugh, the sound warm and rich with something inexplicably fond.

      “What?” You tilted your head, watching the way his grin widened.

      “Isn’t it crazy?” he said, voice quieter now, as if he was still wrapping his mind around it himself. “Lifetimes of love… You’ve always been my girl.”

      Something about the way he said it made your chest ache in the most bittersweet way. This love of yours, it felt like it was something you’re not allowed to have. You swallowed hard, voice softening. “I still can’t believe you’re a dragon.”

      “What?” He snorted. “You thought the horns were just for decoration?”

      You groaned sleepily. “In my defense, you don’t always make them visible.”

      Sylus smirked. “Would you like me to keep them out more often, then? Just for you?”

      “Sylus.” You whimpered, burying your face against him.

      His amusement faded as concern flickered across his features. “You’re still upset?”

      “I don’t want to kill you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

      Sylus exhaled, his fingers tracing slow, soothing lines against your back. “Love,” he murmured, “like I said, you won’t. This is our timeline.”

      “But I want you in every timeline,” you confessed, curling closer, as if holding onto him tighter could somehow tether your souls together even more. “Every life.”

      Sylus stilled. His fingers stopped their tracing. His breath hitched just slightly. Then, with a heavy sigh, he picked up your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. His lips were warm, his touch reverent.

      “I…” He hesitated.

      Sylus never made promises lightly. He didn’t want to promise you something he couldn’t keep. But then, he thought about it. About how he had already overturned fate before. How he and you both had defied instinct, rewritten the path carved for each other. Yet, it wasn’t enough. He didn’t just want your soul. You didn’t just want his eye. You were both greedy, greedy creatures. You wanted to consume each other, bones and all. In love. In deep, all-consuming love.

      And maybe he could make that happen.

      He would need a powerful enough sorcerer. Someone who still wielded magic strong enough to rewrite the very laws of existence. He could find one. He would find one. He would make sure it was just you and him, forever. Not killing each other. Not dying. That would make you immortal, too.

      He could have you forever.

      Now, wasn’t that greedy?

      “I promise,” he finally whispered, sealing his vow with another kiss against your palm, not noticing the soft glow that wrapped itself around you both as you involuntarily resonated.

[dyingswanpavlova]

Happier than ever

Part 1

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Reader × The Salesman

Warnings: Drug Usage, Overdose, Death, Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Suicide, Mentions of Sexual Activities, Mentions of Rape, Domestic Violence, Domestic Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Anger Issues, Depression, Long Backstory, Minors do not interact!

Nam-gyu and you were a couple for the last eight years. But after you decide you had enough of his anger issues, you leave him and try to be happy on your own. Oh, how naïve you are.

Author's note: Okay, everyone.😩 I know you're waiting for the next part of "Your girl" and trust me, I am, too! I'm sorry that I haven't come up with it yet, but I needed to get my mind off of it for a moment, because I don't want to just write anything and publish it like that - the story means too much to me. I can't publish it unless I'm happy with it, but I promise you, I'm working on it. Until then, I started to furiously hit the key board and this happened. Whatever this is, it is Part 1 of it and I'm doing a Part 2, I just don't know when yet. I love you! 🤍 Lana

Loving Nam-gyu wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.

In fact, it was almost impossible on most days.

But there was a part of you, a thing, a quiet voice – something that needed to be reassured, that felt like maybe you were the problem.

There had been good days, hadn’t there? Your birthday and the way he woke you up with pancakes every year. Of course they turned out horrible and were barely edible. They were raw on the inside and somehow, he still managed to burn them. But he made them for you. The memory still made you smile, despite everything.

Then there was the day you had your big ballet performance. You had spent so many months rehearsing, trying to be perfect. You went all Natalie Portman on that performance. Since the moment you’d been told you got to play Odette, you were fire and flame, spending every waking moment trying to be everything you pictured in your head. It was hard, very hard even. But you had the great hope that, if maybe you did well enough, they would come.

Your family would come and watch. They’d finally show you that they did indeed love you, that you weren’t just a burden or an accident. They would come and they would be proud of you. Your father would set his work phone down, your mother her pills. They would be there. For you.

But of course, they didn’t. You should have known better. It was your own fault, hoping and praying for something that was never going to happen. You should have known.

And still, the moment the curtain lifted and you glanced along the rows and rows of people, you felt disappointed. But you didn’t feel disappointed like normal people would, no. It was you after all. You felt devastated. You felt all of your creativity leave your mind. Your body slowly forgot the choreography. Your eyes glistened with tears. And your life was over.

You had your own issues. He had his anger. You had your world endings.

That was until the door flew open after everyone was already seated, waiting for the show to begin. A few heads turned and your gaze quickly flashed towards the now open door, revealing the face of the mysterious newcomer. He was out of breath and his hair was a mess, his cheeks glowing red and the look in his eyes pleading.

It was Nam-gyu.

You had just had the greatest argument of your life so far, throwing around dishes and screaming your lungs out at each other. Not even twelve hours had passed since then, so you were more than sure that he wouldn’t come. After all, he was the least reliable person you knew, alongside your family. And that fight had been particularly bad. You actually didn’t expect to ever see him again.

But there he was, his appearance disheveled and his eyes pleading with you. Pleading with you to forgive him, pleading with you to dance.

Dance.

You remembered the way you felt. The way your disappointment suddenly turned into something different, something hopeful and warm.

Something good.

He was good.

He was yours.

And you were his.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Everything around you faded into a dark cloud and all you could focus on was him and the way he stood in the middle of the audience, staring up at you. The world was quiet and everything smelled like flowers. The perfection you were striving for was suddenly there and it had nothing to do with your performance.

It was a slow dance, slow and sensual, between your souls.

Until suddenly the music started and your body remembered the movements again.

And you were indeed perfect.

Unfortunately though it wasn’t always like that. Most of the time, he was simply complicated. When he wasn’t drugged out of his mind, he was angry. Not at all the time – but easily. All you had to do was say the wrong thing and he’d explode. And you’d explode right back, right into his face.

“I fucking hate you!”

“Shut the fuck up, you dumb slut!”

“Who are you calling a slut?! You son a bitch!”

“Say that again!”

It always ended the same way. You sobbing on the floor, him slamming the door shut and disappearing. That were the good fights.

The bad ones were different. You couldn’t count the times you had been forced to take shelter in the bathroom, quickly locking the door, too afraid to let him even close to you. Of course you knew how to fight back. You didn’t let him get away with slapping you, oh no, you kneed him right in the balls so he’d know better not to fuck with you. He’d normally collapse and the fight would be over. But sometimes, on especially bad days, he got that look on him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. No, it was murderous and terrifying. You always knew there was something dangerous about him. That was probably what drew you in at first. But this…It was different. When he got that look, when the drugs clouded his mind like that, you were truly afraid of what he might do. And so you locked yourself in and listened to the way he pounded against the door, ready to break it down. So far, he hadn’t. A part of him was still in there, even when got like that.

But you didn’t want to push your luck.

After eight years of up and down, back and forth and through the gates of Hell, you finally left him for good. At first he probably didn’t believe it. After all, you had pulled the leaving card a million times before. But somehow you always ended up back in his bed, with him fucking your brains out and calling it making up.

But this time, you meant it. It had been a pretty normal Tuesday. You were at work, waiting tables and cleaning up after your mindless customers. It wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid the bills – albeit, barely.

After your father left and married a woman hardly any older than you and you found your mother on the bathroom floor, cold and stiff, her eyes wide and her chin and hair covered in foam and puke, you decided couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be that anymore.

You moved in with Nam-gyu. It started off well at first. He was as cute as ever, when he was sober. Sure, you had fights already, but they were mostly trivial. Yelling was involved, throwing furniture around as well, but he never got violent with you so far.

He found a job, as did you and you paid your apartment together. It was tiny of course, but it was enough. You bought groceries and washed laundry. You even had some spare money to buy furniture and decorations. It wasn’t much, but it was yours. You did everything the way you always pictured it.

You had been with Nam-gyu since you turned seventeen. You met back in school and immediately fell in love with him. He had been so sweet. Acting overly confident and arrogant, of course, but it was just a front which you immediately realized. Under all that he was actually rather silly. He made you laugh without even trying. Even he seemed surprised by how good you two matched. So far he’d been going through life, acting like everyone was beneath him. But in reality, he wasn’t popular. He was a bully. He was mean, with a cruel streak. But never to you. No, when someone dared to speak up their mind against you, he was there, ready to break their jaw. You formed a friendship of sort. He was protective and extremely possessive, while you were caring. His family was a bunch of assholes, just like yours was and neither of you had any real friends.

Most of your friends were other dancers and neither of those were really sentimental. Sure, it was enough to go out for a salad sometimes, but you really weren’t one for bulimia and cigarettes. Most of them were, unfortunately.

You loved food. You loved to eat and you appreciated every bite. You’d grown up rather lonely on your own, praying every night for a sibling or a real friend. Someone you could talk to, about real problems. Your ballet friends though? Whenever they asked you how you felt, they didn’t actually want to know. They were just being polite.

Nam-gyu was just as lonely, though he wouldn’t have ever admitted it. He had friends, who were to no one’s surprise, also a bunch of assholes. Some of them were just bullies, others were straight-up rapists.

“What do you mean, you changed your mind? Are you dumb? Shut the fuck up and take it. You agreed to this!”

Nam-gyu wasn’t. It was another thing he wouldn’t have admitted to out loud, but the thought of fucking someone while they were out of it was something he wasn’t after. A thing that really turned him on was to see the pleasure on the other person’s face. The moans, the sighs. He wouldn’t get that if he just made them take it. And so he didn’t. But he tried to keep a straight face, when his friends shared their immoral stories of last weekend. He tried to laugh, when they spoke about the way the girls curled up in self-hatred after they left them there, their cum leaking out of them.

That was until one of the girls ended up killing herself.

She had been super sad and melancholic for as long anyone could remember. She was rather quiet and no-one really spoke to her. She wasn’t weird or anything, just really shy. That was enough to get bullied. She was an obvious virgin and rather closed-off. A good challenge. A great bet.

So, one of his friends placed a bet with the others. Fuck the girl.

“No way that weirdo is letting you anywhere close to her.”

And she didn’t, at first. She didn’t trust anyone around, because people normally made fun of her. But that guy, who went by Nic, was a real good actor. He didn’t walk up to her and just made advances. No, he played shy around her. Sweet. Funny. He managed to tickle a smile out of her. A laugh. And he didn’t just do it once. He did it for days. Weeks. Two months. He played her boyfriend. Her sweet, shy boyfriend. Until her front slowly crumbled and she fell in love with him. Deeply. So much that she actually decided to give Nic her first.

According to Nic it had been nothing out of the ordinary, but Nam-gyu knew it was more than that. He could read the people around him fairly well, and he could also see the way Nic’s pupils dilated, the way his heart skipped a beat, whenever his sweet, little girlfriend was around.

But his friends, his friends, they were constantly at his back.

“Did you finally fuck her?”

“Did you stretch that weird little cunt, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re falling for that Wednesday Addams bitch.”

Nic had a reputation to uphold. And so he did what he deemed necessary. He had sex with her and then he dumped her. But not like any normal person would. No, he made fun of her in the worst ways and ended up sending her nudes to anyone who was interested.

The same nudes he had begged her to send him, to trust him, for only his eyes.

And the next day, the gruesome news were heard over speaker.

She was dead. Jumped off her apartment building, right into her death.

Nic had a mental breakdown. No-one else from his group really cared. No-one except for Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu spent the rest of the day in his car, staring down at the steering wheel and trying not to throw up.

You had heard the news of course and you were devastated. You hadn’t known the girl, but you had never been mean to her. You actually remembered a few interactions you had. You knew there had been something going on between her and Nam-gyu’s friend. But naïve, little you had had the hope that it wasn’t a trick. How stupid you had been.

You spent the rest of the day looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Right when you already thought maybe he wasn’t at school at all, you saw his car. He was inside and God, he looked horrible. With red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands, all day. You tried your best to comfort him, but it was futile. He felt guilty. Someone was dead. And maybe, just maybe, if he had intervened in time…

You tried to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, not entirely. He never spoke to his friends again.

You’d later find out, that was the day he took his first injection. So far all he had been doing were mushrooms and weed, but Hell, who hadn’t?

You spent more and more time together, because he firmly ignored everyone who was so damn fucked in the head. He was trying to be good, he was trying so hard. Life hadn’t been easy on him, not at all, but he still tried.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Another three days later you had sex. It was your first time and he was being surprisingly gentle and considerate. You loved thinking back to it, because you didn’t regret it at all. No matter what else happened between you afterwards, you could never regret giving your virginity to him, because it meant so much to you. And it seemed to mean even more to him.

Two years later, it was safe to say you were made for each other. Even long after being out of school, you were still a couple. He still got these angry outbursts sometimes, but you tried to understand him. He had grown up, feeling unseen and unloved by anyone. As did you. You weren’t angry per say. But you got angry, when he did. You had these desperate mood swing. And whenever something didn’t go your way, you felt like the world was ending. You felt everything intensely.

Love was great. It was all-consuming. You loved him in the same way he did. You adored him. Anger was different. It felt suffocating. Sadness wasn’t sadness, but depression. And despair was enough to nearly kill you.

You tried going to university, but that didn’t work out, because your father left and so you had no chance to pay the tuition. Nam-gyu never even bothered to try, because he knew he would fail anyway, but he tried whatever he could to make your dream work. You wanted to work with animals, heal them, help them, do whatever you could to make someone’s life better. But despite all your – and his – efforts, it didn’t work out. It was simply too much. He was heartbroken when you were forced to leave school, because of your selfish prick of a father. But it was alright.

You’d find another job. You could still make it in life, even without university. Everything was good.

That was, until you couldn’t afford your dance practice any longer.

That was heartbreaking.

One day, you came home after a long day of playing cashier, only to find your mother had stolen all the money you had saved so far. She took it to buy pills or whatever else. You couldn’t even be mad at her, because she lay passed out in the doorway to her room.

You had no money. And all your dreams were dead.

By the time that happened you were far into twenty-one, so you knew that life was cruel and you turned more and more bitter.

Nam-gyu was simply angry, but there was not much he could do. His parents threw him out at nineteen, so he had been paying his own rent since then. He tried speculating with cryptocurrency, but that didn’t work out. He played it down, but you knew he lost quite the amount of his own savings.

A year later your mother died and you finally moved in together. So far you hadn’t been able to leave her on her own, but now that she was gone, you couldn’t stand to live in the same place where she had died. The cemetery of what could have been. Countless dour memories, not a single one good.

You had never had a particularly good relationship, but she was your mother nonetheless. The sight of her dead body and horrified face, it haunted you in your sleep. You spent more than one night, waking up screaming, sweating and clutching the linens. Luckily, Nam-gyu was there to catch you, before you ever managed to fall into the deep pit that was your mind.

He managed to calm you down somehow, every time. He was perfect. The perfect boyfriend.

Until he wasn’t.

You hated when he did drugs, especially so after what had happened to your mother. And so he said he wouldn’t, but it was obviously just to pacify you. You always noticed when he did it nonetheless, you knew the dazed look in his eyes, the paleness of his skin. Whenever he refused a meal, it was obvious to you. Normally, he’d choke down everything you cooked like a starved animal, but there were days when he picked at his food and that was always the first indication.

His short responses, his temper, suddenly so easily flared. It didn’t take long for your first real argument to break out. It was fine, up until the point when you saw his hand twitch. Obviously, you shot him a murderous look, daring him. If he dared to hit you, you’d break his fucking jaw.

And he refrained. For then.

Things went mostly normal, until the next fight. That time he wasn’t so gentle. Things got out of hand and he pushed you against the wall, smashing your head against it in the process. For a moment, you were simply stunned – and even he seemed to be. He stopped before he could cause any greater damage.

Things went between good and bad, it was a constant battle for dominance. One day was good, the next day horrible. You couldn’t even look at him without earning a harsh comment. You’d ignore him firmly for the rest of the day and eventually he’d come crawling back, begging you to let him back inside the bedroom. He didn’t mind the couch, he just missed you. And somehow you always forgave him, far too easily. Sometimes he did change for a while. Surprised you with flowers or his sad attempts at cooking. Every time he messed up a scrambled egg, you couldn’t help but get weak. He was so silly, it was endearing. Yet at the same time, you knew there was something dark within him. Most likely the drugs, but you could never tell for sure.

Maybe this was just who he was.

Things got better and worse again, until one night, he snapped. You had a fight about one of your co-workers, who he considered a threat. You never understood it, because to you it was so obvious that you never wanted anyone else. Despite your problems, you stayed fiercely loyal to him. You loved Nam-gyu. And a part of you still believed that in the end, things would turn out good. Maybe they would, right?

But that night was bad. He got so furious and when he yelled at you, the walls seemed to shake. You were normally so eager to fight back, so strong, but that day something was different. You were on your period and just a few hours earlier, you had met a dance friend of yours. She told you, she was sure that, if you had stayed, you’d be famous by now. But she wasn’t kind about it. She was subtly looking down at you, shaming you for the way your life had turned out. It made a tight knot form in your stomach and you felt your resolve slowly crumble. All you wanted was to cry, but even that didn’t work, because you came home to a furious Nam-gyu.

Your shoulders slumped and you refused to look at him, which only ever made him angrier.

You didn’t see the slap coming, but once it happened, you couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t forget the anger and the disappointment that welled up in you. When you looked up at him, you expected the tiniest bit of regret or guilt, but there was nothing. He was too deep in his bubble of anger and substance, to see clearly. He got more and more furious and you knew; if you didn’t hide then, he’d do something worse. It was the first night you hid yourself away in the bathroom, one of many to follow. You always told yourself it were the drugs. He was so sweet when he was sober, so gentle and loving. You kept telling yourself, things would be good one day. They would turn out well. With time and patience.

Until you snapped.

You were at work, staring off into the distance. You had been out of it all day, because you spent the previous night locked in the bathroom, until he finally passed out around four in the morning. You snuck out and made your way to your workplace, where you opened more than three hours early. You had nowhere else to go. No family, no friends, no one. Only you and your pain. All day you spent trying to cover the dark marks on your wrists, but no one seemed to care anyway. People went about their own lives and problems and you were just their co-worker, their waitress.

You stood silently, watching an elderly couple whose order you had just taken. They were so sweet, like they came right out of a movie. He held the door open for her and pulled her chair back. He caressed her cheek and she never flinched when he reached out his hand for her. They smiled at each other with such a tenderness, it brought tears to your eyes. That was the exact moment. That was the moment you realized you didn’t want to continue on living like this.

You wanted more. You deserved more.

You made your way back and gathered most of your things while he was still at work. Of course it wasn’t the most intelligent approach, but it was all you could do. You knew, the moment you sat down and tried to explain to him that you were going to leave him, he’d find a way to convince you to stay. It had been eight years, after all. Eight years on and off, eight years up and down. Drugs, violence, lies – at least he never cheated on you.

You’d keep that in tender memory of him. As well as the countless times he had comforted and fought for you. All the times he made you laugh, all the times he made you feel loved. The greatest sex you would ever have, no doubt.

But you still packed your things and left like a ghost. After eight years.

He tried to contact you of course, the moment he came home. But you took your paycheck and went to a motel. Whenever he tried to find you at work, you hid in the kitchen. Your co-workers tried to calm him down, to tell him that you didn’t work there any longer, but he saw through the lie. He got loud and furious, which you could kind of understand. You stayed in the kitchen, crying to yourself and feeling incredibly guilty, but you didn’t ever come out.

He kept coming, but it got less and less frequent. From what your co-workers told you, he seemed less and less like himself. The thought broke your heart and nearly made you go back.

You were constantly in your head, making more and more mistakes at work, until your boss’s patience finally snapped. When you messed up the third customers giant bill, he fired you. You instantly panicked, because you were sure, now you had to go back.

You even drove around in your car, trying to get a glimpse of him in the apartment. But to your horror, you didn’t see Nam-gyu in the window. It were other people, some couple actually. And when you tried to call him, the number wasn’t available. Suddenly, he was a ghost and you were knee deep in horse shit.

It didn’t take long for your money to go and so you ended up panicking. You had to leave the motel soon and if you didn’t get a job – you’d end up homeless. Which was as good as dead.

A few days later, after you realized that you seemed to have no special talents and that no one really cared to hire you, you sat at the metro station. You had only one option left or so you thought. Le girls girls girls. You were a dancer. You were graceful. You were too good for this.

But it was all you could do. After all, the girls didn’t have to indulge in any immoral transactions. They were just dancing, right? Fine, in light clothing, but still dancing. You could do that.

You were deep in thought, your eyes closed and your head leaned against the wall behind you, when you heard someone’s voice.

“Care for a game of Ddakji?”

This was when your life took a dark turn.

You eyed the handsome stranger with suspicion. It was super odd. A man going down the path of middle age, slicked-back hair, wearing a suit and a briefcase on him.

And he was asking you to play a game with him?

You frowned and glanced around.

“I don’t know what you want, but you won’t get it from me.”

He smirked and tilted his head to the side innocently.

“I don’t want anything. Just a little game. That’s all. You got something to win here. I got money.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not a fucking hooker.”

He smiled again, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I told you, all I want is to play a game. Are you scared?”

That made you bristle. You knew the game and you fucking hated it. You were fairly good at playing at, but you didn’t care for this idiot’s audacity. You were about to snap at him again, when you caught sight of the money. Your eyes widened and you sank back against the wall.

“I don’t have any money.” You murmured back.

“Don’t worry. You can pay with your body.”

Your head shot up and you were ready to lunge at him, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I have no intention of fucking you.” He said calmly. “So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared?”

You crossed your arms and got up, giving him a dirty look.

“Get to it, son of a bitch.”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly. You had trouble adjusting your sight to the unnatural, neon light. The smell was odd, somewhat disinfectant. Something was really wrong.

You slowly stretched and turned your head, only to see you weren’t alone. That was enough to nearly make you shriek. You sat up quickly enough to get dizzy. Next to your own bunk was a woman who stared at you through her cat-eyes. She smirked devilishly as she lay on her side.

“Your fate is sealed. There’s no way you can dance your way out of this.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest. This had to be some freakish co-incidence. You took your gaze off her, only to realize you weren’t alone. Countless people surrounded you, some of them awake, others still asleep. They all wore the same green tracksuit, just as you did.

You took a shaky breath and carefully swung your legs over the bed, heading for the ladder.

What, in God’s name, was this? And why did you agree to it?

You only remembered how ashamed you felt and how good the prospect sounded of not having to dance half-naked for strange men.

But was this really better?

You glanced around in the hope of…Of what? The situation was far too fucked up.

The fact that they got you here unconsciously, getting you dressed…

You wanted to throw up. You stumbled through the great hall, hoping to get some answers to your questions, but that hope quickly got crushed.

These were the real strange men. Dressed in pink suits, wearing masks which covered all of their faces and even their voices weren’t their own. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a fun game, you suddenly realized.

That Ddakji playing motherfucker had deceived you.

You lost the first round, which resulted in him slapping you. And that slap, which hadn’t really been a gentle one, awakened some kind of beast in you. You didn’t know what it was, maybe the memory of getting slapped and hunted down your own apartment on a regular basis. Whatever it was, you didn’t lose another round. He gave you money and money and money. But you didn’t want his fucking money. You wanted revenge.

You kept winning, because nothing else was possible. And by the end of the game, he smiled at you while he handed you the damned card.

But right before he turned crawled back into the pit of Hell where he had come from, you called out to him.

“Hey, motherfucker.”

He cocked a brow and regarded you with amusement. “Are you still mad about that tiny, little hit? Come on, you took it like a champ.”

“Then you should, too.”  You slapped him with an intensity, you didn’t think you’d ever possess.

He looked at you like a statue, obviously ready to lunge at and murder you. But he hid his murderous intent behind a well-rehearsed smile.

“That one was free.” He said calmly. “And if I ever do see you again, I want a return match.”

He left and you were left with the card.

And there you were now. This wasn’t some childish game of Ddakji.

No one showed their face. You knew what that meant. Something was wrong – and you were in trouble.

You were about to leave the hall and take part in the first game, following after the others. You wouldn’t even have noticed, had you not bumped into him full-force.

When you pulled back your head, ready to apologize, you froze.

There he was. Your Nam-gyu. Staring back at you with wide eyes, behind them a mixture of something akin to surprise and fury.

“What the fuck?” He hissed.

He rushed forward and grabbed your by the shoulders, backing you up against the wall. Your eyes widened and you tried to push him back, but he was driven by something far stronger than both of you.

“Nam-gyu?” You breathed out.

He frowned deeply and stared at you incredulously.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t-“

“Oh my God, I’m going to kill you.” He growled. “Where were you? What’s going on with you? Are you fucking-“

“Is there a problem here?” At first, you didn’t see the guy behind him with his ridiculous hairstyle and pouty lips. Immediately, you hated the sight of him.

“Fuck, she’s my-“

The purple-haired guy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Whatever, man. We should get going, huh? We’ll be late for the game.”

He eyed you in an odd way, but you pushed it down and used the moment to free yourself from Nam-gyu’s grip and run out, rushing after the others and hiding in the crowd. He attempted to follow you and even called out to you, but you were already gone.

Fuck, you thought.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[maretinelli]

A HARD DAY

DadLewis Hamilton X Mom!fem!reader

Summary: When one of the girls is sick and the other took the day off to annoy her sister, Y/n and Lewis do everything they can to balance things out until the end of the day.

Words: 5.4K+

Warnings: Sisterly fights, Y/n tired and stressed, Lewis a good husband, a little anguish, Pietra a little annoying because she woke up in a bad mood hahaha, Marie sick, but happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that may be in the story such as spelling, grammar and writing. This is part of the Universe of A NON-SEPARATION, but can also be read separately.

MASTERLIST

The day dawned dark and gray, as if the weather itself foretold the chaos that was to come. The cloudy sky covered the British city, and a light drizzle ran down the windows.

Lewis knew he had a busy day ahead of him. Ferrari had sent a team to the UK, and face-to-face meetings demanded his attention early on. Before the sun threatened to peek out from behind the clouds, he left the house, giving his sleeping wife a soft kiss before leaving.

The tranquility did not last long. Just thirty minutes after Lewis closed the front door, Y/n was awakened by loud crying coming from Marie's room. His body was still heavy with sleep, but worry spoke louder.

She stood up and walked quickly down the hall, finding Pietra standing there, hugging her favorite stuffed animal. Her hair was all spiky, evidence that she had just woken up, and the frown on her face clearly showed her sour mood.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" Y/n asked as she opened the door to Marie's room.

Pietra frowned even more and grumbled: "That annoying Marie woke me up with her crying!"

"Don't talk about your sister like that," he warned patiently but firmly. "Go back to your room and try to get some more sleep. Or, if you want, you can come to my bed. I'll take care of Marie."

Pietra grimaced and turned around, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

"PIETRA!" Y/n called, but the girl ignored her.

Taking a deep breath, she walked into Marie's room and sat down next to her eldest daughter's bed, pulling her into a cozy hug.

"It's okay, my love." He whispered, feeling the girl's small sobs against his chest.

Marie curled up in her mother’s arms, seeking comfort. When the sobs subsided, Y/n pulled away slightly and asked, “What happened?”

"I had a nightmare... and I'm scared," Marie murmured, her voice weak.

"Don't be afraid, mommy is here" Y/n assured, stroking her daughter's hair. As he did so, he noticed that the girl was hotter than usual.

He gently laid her back on the bed. "I'll get a thermometer, okay?"

Marie just nodded.

Y/n walked to the bedroom closet and grabbed the small first aid kit that her daughters' rooms had, grabbing the thermometer and returning to bed.

The fever was high. Marie coughed softly, her little face drawn. "I don't want to sleep again."

Y/n smiled and caressed his face. "Okay. Let's go to the living room to watch something, okay?"

Marie nodded.

Y/n picked her up, feeling the heat of her feverish little body against hers. Before going downstairs, she went to her own room to get her cell phone and then went to the living room. There, she settled on the couch with Marie, covering them with the blanket that had been left there from the night before.

"What do you want to watch?" He asked, picking up the remote.

Marie chose a cartoon, and Y/n put it on the channel.

As her daughter settled into her lap, Y/n picked up her cell phone and sent a message to her secretary, letting her know that she would need to reschedule all of her appointments for the day and that she wouldn't be at the office in the afternoon. His response was quick, saying he would take care of everything and wishing Y/n's daughter a speedy recovery.

Y/n let out a sigh and put her phone aside, focusing on stroking her daughter's back while she watched the cartoon.

For a few minutes, everything was silent. Tranquility reigned, until the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs broke the moment.

Pietra appeared in the room, still holding her stuffed animal, and with the same sullen look as before.

"I couldn't sleep again." He grumbled.

Y/n smiled and made room beside him. "Then come here, join us."

Pietra hesitated, but ended up approaching and sitting next to her mother. As she adjusted herself on the sofa, she ended up accidentally pulling Marie's hair.

"Ouch! That hurt!" Marie complained, turning to her sister.

"Be quiet, now I want to watch." Pietra replied, crossing her arms.

Y/n sighed, already anticipating that the day would be long. One was sick, the other woke up in a bad mood.

Despite this, they managed to watch the cartoon together for about an hour. Every now and then, Pietra and Marie would exchange provocations, and Y/n would intervene with calm but firm reprimands. Until finally, Marie fell asleep.

Taking advantage of the moment, Y/n arranged her oldest daughter on the sofa and stood up, extending her hand to Pietra.

"Shall we make breakfast?"

Pietra held her mother's hand and followed her into the kitchen. Meanwhile, in the living room, Marie was sleeping soundly, snuggled under the covers, with the TV on low and the lights off.

About thirty minutes later, Marie appeared in the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Y/n took the thermometer and checked her temperature. The fever had gone, but her daughter's sunken eyes and tired expression were still worrying.

"I want to go to school after lunch." Marie said, her voice still a little hoarse.

Y/n arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure? It's okay to miss today."

"Today we have art class... I like it."

Y/n smiled and kissed her daughter's hair. "Okay, but if the fever comes back, you stay home, understand?"

Marie nodded.

As lunchtime approached, Y/n helped the girls get ready for school. Pietra, however, seemed determined to test her sister's limits.

The little girl had already hidden Marie's notebook, complained about her sister's hairstyle, and now watched Marie tie her shoelaces with a mischievous look.

"Are you sure you can tie this by yourself?" Pietra asked, sitting next to her sister on the couch, ready to go to school. "Last time, you almost fell in the middle of the street."

Marie rolled her eyes, tugging hard on her laces. "I know how to tie them, Pietra. Unlike you, who doesn't even know how to tie a bow properly."

"Yes, I know!" Pietra retorted, offended.

Y/n, who had gone up to get Marie's backpack, was oblivious to the sisters' discussions in the living room.

"No, you don't," Marie insisted, finishing tying her shoe and standing up. "Last time, Mommy had to retie yours because you made a knot that was impossible to untie."

"At least I don't cry because of a nightmare," Pietra replied with a victorious smile.

Marie's eyes widened in indignation. "MOMMY!" she called, turning to Y/n, who had just found her way down the stairs and into the living room.

"Pietra, no teasing." Y/n warned, giving her youngest daughter a firm look.

Pietra pouted, but didn't answer. Instead, he picked up his backpack and started playing with the keychain hanging from the zipper, as if he hadn't said anything.

Thinking that peace would reign again, Y/n went back to her room to get a coat for Marie. But then Pietra found another opportunity to irritate her sister.

"Marie, you look like a zombie," he commented, tilting his head to the side as he analyzed his sister.

"What?!" Marie exclaimed, putting her hands on her face.

"Your eyes are sunken, your face looks strange... are you sure you're not sick yet?"

Marie snorted in irritation. "If I'm a zombie, then you're a goblin!"

"At least goblins are fast and smart," Pietra replied with a mischievous smile. "Zombies just walk slowly and say 'uhhhhhh'."

Y/n arrived at the exact moment Pietra had said that, almost out of patience with the two's arguments, she said loudly.

"ENOUGH, PIETRA. Do you want to go to school as punishment?"

The girl crossed her arms, sulking. "I was just kidding..."

Y/n sighed again, handing her coat to her eldest daughter and going to get her car keys, with the two of them walking behind their mother.

"Come on! Before I have to break up a real fight." She opens the car door and they both get in, settling into their safety seats.

The journey to school was, as expected, a test of patience for Y/n. The provocations between Marie and Pietra continued, without respite. Each comment from one generated an even sharper retort from the other, creating an endless cycle of small jabs.

Y/n, already tired of trying to calm the mood, realized that any attempt at intervention would be useless. Instead of wasting his energy trying to calm the girls down, he simply turned up the music in the car to a reasonably loud level.

The sound partially muffled her daughters' voices, allowing her to drive in peace—or at least as close to it as possible. She only intervened when a comment went too far, issuing a short, firm warning.

As soon as she parked at the school, Y/n led the girls inside, taking the opportunity to speak to Marie's teacher. She explained that her oldest daughter had had a fever earlier and that if she complained of any discomfort, she should call immediately. Since she was off that afternoon, she would keep an eye on the phone.

Before Pietra ran off to class, Y/n held her for a moment, warning her to behave and not irritate her sister during the break. Pietra rolled her eyes, but didn't retort, which, for Y/n, was already a small victory.

On the way home, the sound of her cell phone ringing filled the car. The display showed Lewis's name, and Y/n answered, activating the speakerphone so that her husband's voice came through the speakers.

As he drove, he told her about his chaotic morning, detailing Pietra's teasing and Marie's stubbornness in wanting to go to school even after having a fever. On the other end of the line, Lewis laughed, amused by the story.

"I'll talk to them as soon as I pick them up."

When she arrived home, she was greeted by Roscoe, who came trotting up to her, wagging his tail and barking excitedly. The dog seemed genuinely happy with the lack of noise, enjoying the rare calm of the house.

"You're enjoying the silence, aren't you?" Y/n teased, looking at the bulldog.

Roscoe barked again, as if in agreement.

With free time and an empty house, Y/n decided to put everything in order. The first step was to change the girls' bedclothes and put them in the wash, eliminating any trace of the virus that had taken down Marie.

Afterwards, a general cleaning was carried out, sanitizing the rooms and disinfecting door handles, toys and any surface that the girls frequently touched.

She knew that Pietra would probably catch the same flu within a few weeks, maybe even Lewis or herself, but as a mother and a doctor, she made sure to minimize the chances.

During this whole process, Y/n picked up her cell phone from time to time to check if she had received any messages from the teachers. No new notifications.

When he finally finished, he sat down on the couch, letting out a long sigh. He knew that this tranquility had an expiration date. As soon as his daughters returned, the chaos would return with them.

Her gaze wandered around the room, and her thoughts led her to reflect on how fast the girls were growing up. It was funny to realize how much Pietra had inherited Lewis's strong personality—his stubbornness, his determination, and the way he always wanted to have the last word. But she ended up smiling.

Time passed faster than I imagined. My phone vibrated with a message from Lewis, saying he was leaving to pick up the girls.

Y/n quickly typed a reply.

"Get ready... those two are going to give you trouble in the car."

Lewis arrived home with the girls, and as expected, they spent the entire drive home arguing. Their childish energy was intense, and the tone of their voices grew louder as they approached the door.

As soon as they entered, the fight gained momentum.

"You don't even know how to play!" Pietra teased, crossing her arms.

"And you don't even know how to lose!" Marie replied, already irritated.

From the living room, Y/n let out a deep sigh as she heard the argument. Lewis smiled slightly, already used to the chaos, and decided to intervene before the fight escalated.

"Hey, hey, calm down!" He said, holding up a hand in a pause gesture. "I think we forgot the part where we got to go home in peace? Without yelling?"

The two girls looked at him, but Pietra didn't miss the chance to tease her sister.

"Daddy, you need to know what Marie did during recess!" Pietra said, holding back her laughter. "She dropped her snack right in her lap, in front of everyone! And on top of that, she made a funny face, trying to get it back. Everyone saw it!" Pietra said, laughing out loud.

Marie's eyes widened and she blushed.

"Mommy! She's making things up again!" He protested, turning to Y/n.

"I'm not making it up, it was really funny!" Pietra insisted on lying, enjoying her sister's embarrassment.

Y/n, who had already gotten up from the couch, sighed again and gave her daughters a serious look.

"Girls, enough!" She said, crossing her arms. "Pietra, it's not nice to make fun of your sister. And Marie, stop fighting back, it only makes the argument last longer.

"But, Mom...!" They both started at the same time.

"No 'buts'." Y/n cut in firmly. "Now go upstairs and change."

Grumbling and exchanging dirty looks, the sisters climbed the stairs. The sound of their heavy footsteps echoed through the house, followed by a brief silence before they began arguing again upstairs.

Lewis still stood at the door, holding his daughters’ two colorful backpacks. He looked at his wife, who already looked exhausted, and chuckled softly before setting the backpacks down.

"I need to rescue my wife from this mess before she files for divorce." He joked, pulling Y/n into a tight hug.

She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the comfort of his touch, and then let out a tired laugh.

"I'm asking for help, Lew." Y/n murmured against his chest.

He laughed, running his hand slowly down her back. "We'll figure it out. They're kids, but they're not impossible."

Y/n pulled back a little and looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "Hm... I don't know. I thought girls would be easier to raise."

"Yeah, and I thought my talent was only in Formula 1, but apparently, I need to become a mediator in disputes too." Lewis joked.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head, before grabbing her daughters' backpacks to put them away.

The silence lasted only a few seconds before the girls' voices began to grow louder upstairs.

Lewis sighed, already foreseeing that the peace would not last long. "I'll go try to calm them both down before one throws the other out the window."

Y/n chuckled and nodded.

"Good luck."

He gave his wife an amused look before heading upstairs, ready to deal with another round of sibling rivalry.

Soon, Marie came downstairs, now wearing a comfortable set of sweats instead of her school uniform. Her face still looked drawn, her shoulders a little slumped, and she rubbed one eye with the palm of her hand, showing tiredness.

Y/n, who was sitting on the couch, smiled softly at her daughter.

"Come here, my love. Sit with me for a while."

Marie didn't hesitate and settled down next to her mother, resting her head on the arm of the sofa.

Y/n arranged a blanket over her and then handed her a mug of warm tea.

"Take some, it will help you relax."

Marie took the cup with both hands and took a small sip, letting out a sigh afterwards. "Thank you, Mommy."

Y/n smiled and stroked her daughter's hair, and before she could settle down on the couch, Pietra came down the stairs, with Lewis right behind her.

"Mommy, why can Marie lie down and I can't?" Pietra asked, crossing her arms.

Lewis sighed and placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "How about you go play with Roscoe in the backyard? It'll be good to burn off some energy."

Pietra rolled her eyes and muttered something, clearly not satisfied.

"Oh, sure... I always get to keep the dog while Marie gets treated like a queen."

Y/n gave her daughter a warning look, but before she could respond, Lewis looked at her seriously.

"Pietra. Your sister is sick! You also lie down when you are sick!"

The girl sighed heavily and threw her shoulders back. "Okay, I'll go..."

She walked out into the yard, still upset, and Lewis approached the couch, leaning over to kiss his wife's forehead.

"I'll talk to her." He said quietly.

Y/n smiled lightly and nodded. "Thank you."

Lewis went to the backyard, taking the opportunity to have a more serious conversation with Pietra. He tried to make her understand that teasing Marie all the time was not a good thing, and that this needed to change.

Time passed, and Y/n was now in the kitchen preparing dinner. The aroma of hot food filled the room, while Marie, already showered, sat on a high stool near the counter. With a drawing book open in front of her, she colored with concentration, scattering several colored pencils around.

Outside, Pietra was still playing with Roscoe, but she soon entered the kitchen quietly, casting a quick glance at her sister. With a subtle step, she deliberately bumped into Marie's arm, causing a large line to go beyond the lines of the drawing.

"Pietra!" Marie exclaimed, gripping the pencil tighter.

"Oops, it was an accident!" Pietra replied, raising her hands as if she were innocent.

Y/n, who was almost out of patience, turned from the bench and looked directly at her youngest daughter.

"Pietra!" Her voice was firm. "You know very well that this was not unintentional. Why do you insist on provoking your sister?"

Before Pietra could respond, Lewis entered the kitchen. He noticed the tense atmosphere and frowned.

"What happened here?"

Marie was quick to tell everything, still holding the pencil tightly, as if she was holding herself back from crying in anger.

"What did we just talk about?" Lewis sighed, crouched down in front of Pietra and looked her straight in the eyes. "This isn't cool, P. You need to stop this. Marie is your sister, and it's not right to tease her all the time."

Pietra snorted, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Marie," he said, but the dry tone clearly showed it wasn't a genuine request.

Y/n looked at Marie. "What about you, Marie?"

The girl blinked a few times, trying to hold back the angry tears in her eyes, but took a deep breath and replied.

"All good."

She went back to drawing, although she was still visibly frustrated.

Lewis stood up and looked at his wife, realizing how tired she was after all that arguing. Still, Y/n managed to offer him a tired but genuine smile.

He smiled back and walked over to the counter, starting to help finish up dinner while keeping an eye on the girls. For now, at least, they seemed to have stopped teasing.

When everything was ready, the family gathered at the table. The atmosphere seemed calm at first, but soon Pietra began her usual negotiations.

"Mommy... do you really need to eat so many vegetables?" She asked, poking the broccoli with her fork.

"Yes, you do, P." Y/n replied kindly, helping herself to some more rice.

Marie, even though she was still exhausted, ate without complaining. Pietra looked at her sister across the table and snorted.

"Look at Marie, she eats all her vegetables." She rolls her eyes and Lewis watches her.

Marie glared at her sister, but didn't say anything. She just continued eating in silence.

Pietra then picked up a piece of broccoli and raised her hand with a mischievous look, ready to throw it at her sister. Just as Pietra was about to throw the broccoli, Y/n was faster. She held her daughter's hand firmly before the piece of vegetable flew across the table.

"PIETRA!" Her voice sounded loud and firm, making the girl's eyes widen.

Marie, already at her emotional limit for the day, began to cry.

Y/n took a deep breath and looked directly at her youngest daughter, finally losing her patience. "ENOUGH! THIS HAS GONE WAY OVER. I've been trying to stay calm, give you two space to work things out between yourselves, but this..." She pointed to the broccoli still in Pietra's hand. "This is the height of it! You're wasting food, and even worse, trying to throw it at your sister? THIS IS NOT FUNNY! It's disrespectful, and I won't tolerate this kind of behavior anymore."

Pietra swallowed hard, her eyes slightly wide. Silence fell over the table. Even Lewis, who usually tried to lighten things up, was quiet for a moment.

"You're grounded." Y/n decreed, her voice serious and leaving no room for argument.

Only the sound of cutlery against plates filled the room after that. Pietra lowered her gaze and went back to eating, without protest. Marie, still sniffling, tried to compose herself.

Lewis wiped his mouth with his napkin, sighed, and then stood up. He walked over to Pietra's side and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Let's go upstairs." He said seriously. "I think we need to have a serious talk, young lady."

Pietra got down from the chair without saying a word. Her gaze was fixed on the floor as she held the hand Lewis extended to her. Together, they walked up the stairs in silence.

Marie still looked startled by what had happened. She hesitated for a moment, looking at the food on her plate, before taking another bite.

Y/n, feeling like she was about to shed a few tears of exhaustion, took a deep breath and decided to clear her mind, trying to talk to her daughter.

"So, my love? How was school today, besides the trouble?"

Marie wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and thought for a moment before answering. "It was cool... I got an A on the math test."

Y/n smiled, feeling her heart soften a little. "Really? That's amazing, daughter! I knew you'd rock!"

Marie smiled shyly. "The teacher even praised me in front of the class."

"That's wonderful! Can you show me the review later?"

"Yes, I'll show you."

Dinner went a little more calmly after that, but Y/n still felt a weight on her chest. She had always been a patient, calm mother who valued her daughters expressing themselves freely and understanding their own feelings. But what Pietra had done had surpassed all the limits she tried to maintain.

And more than that, her daughter's behavior was strange. Pietra was always the girl who lit up the room, who made jokes, laughed out loud and managed to make Marie smile even on her worst days.

But lately, she just teased her sister.

That didn't look like his Pietra.

Y/n made a mental note to talk to Lewis about this once things calmed down. Something was going on, and she needed to figure out what it was.

A few minutes later, Marie finished her dinner and looked at her mother with a tired look.

"Mommy, can you put a cartoon on TV for me?"

Y/n smiled, feeling her heart soften at seeing her daughter still so fragile.

"Of course, my love. I'm going now."

She collected the dishes from the table, took them to the sink, and then headed into the living room. Marie was already lying on the couch, curled up under the blanket, waiting for the drawing.

Y/n took the remote and put on one of her daughter's favorite cartoons. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she ran her hand lovingly through her daughter's hair.

"How are you feeling now, my little one?"

Marie sighed, turning to her mother with a tired look. "I'm kind of tired... and now my head hurts."

Y/n stood up immediately.

"Wait a minute, I'll get you some medicine."

She went to the kitchen, grabbed a children’s painkiller and a glass of water, then returned to the living room. Kneeling down next to the couch, she handed the medicine to her daughter, who grimaced as she took it, but drank it without complaint.

Y/n smiled and stroked her hair. "There you go. Now try to relax, okay? If you want to sleep here, Mommy or Daddy will take you to your room later."

Marie smiled tiredly.

"Thank you, Mom."

Y/n's heart clenched with love. She kissed her daughter's forehead and whispered, "Mommy's here for anything, okay?"

Marie just closed her eyes, feeling her mother's affection.

With one last loving look at her daughter, Y/n got up and went back to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Meanwhile, Lewis was still in the room talking to Pietra.

Upstairs, he spoke calmly but seriously. Pietra sat on his lap, her small arms wrapped around her father's neck. As he spoke, Lewis stroked his daughter's curls, his words firm but gentle.

"I know you like to play, my princess, but teasing your sister all the time is no joke. She gets hurt, and mommy and daddy get sad, you don't like seeing mommy sad, do you?"

Pietra sighed and nodded, resting her head against her father's chest. Lewis knew she understood.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Y/n felt the weight of the entire day crashing down on her.

Standing, leaning against the counter, she put her hands to her face and began to cry softly. She didn't want anyone to hear. She didn't want them to worry about her, not when they already had so many unfinished business with the girls.

She felt exhausted. Overwhelmed. Guilty.

"I yelled at my daughter."

The phrase echoed in his mind, making the tears flow even more.

It was at this moment that Lewis entered the kitchen.

"Honey, I talked to Pietra. I think she understood well. I spoke calmly, but made it clear that-"

He stopped talking when he heard his wife's loud sob.

Immediately, he walked over, placing a gentle hand on her back. "Hey... What happened?" His voice was now worried, filled with affection.

Y/n lifted her face, revealing red eyes and cheeks wet with tears.

Lewis didn't think twice before wrapping her in a tight hug. She clung to him, hiding her face in his chest, and began to pour out her heart through her tears.

"I... I feel like a terrible mother, Lew." Her voice was shaking. "I yelled at Pietra. I lost my temper. I should have handled it differently... But I was so tired, so frustrated. Now I feel horrible."

Lewis held her tightly, running his hand gently down her back.

"Hey, look at me." He pulled back a little and cupped his wife's face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. "It's okay. You're human, love. Your patience is at an all-time high because you have limits, too. That doesn't make you a bad mother."

Y/n sniffed, looking away. "But I feel so guilty..."

Lewis smiled fondly. "You are facing the challenges of motherhood, and I know you always do your best. You are an amazing mother. Pietra loves you. Marie loves you. And I love you."

She sighed and, without the strength to argue, rested her head on her husband's shoulder again.

Lewis continued to stroke her back, murmuring sweet nothings. "You're the best mother these girls could ever have, Y/n. They know it. I know it."

And with that, Y/n allowed a few more tears to fall, but now they weren't just from exhaustion. They were of relief, of comfort.

Y/n was still in Lewis's arms when she saw Pietra entering the kitchen. The little girl had her head down, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her blouse. She stopped in front of her mother and gently tugged on the coat Y/n was wearing.

"Mommy, I want to apologize to you."

Lewis smiled at the scene and, without saying anything, walked away, leaving them alone. He went to the living room, where Marie was still lying on the sofa.

Y/n knelt in front of her daughter, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other running through her soft, dark curls.

"I'm listening, my love."

Pietra took a deep breath before beginning.

"I... I know I was mean to Marie today. I thought I was just joking, but I guess I overreacted." She hesitated, biting her lip. "And I was mean to you and Daddy, too. I didn't mean to make you sad."

Y/n smiled tenderly, feeling her heart warm.

"Thank you for apologizing, my love. It means a lot."

Pietra nodded and then frowned. "But, Mom... You're sad too, aren't you?"

Y/n sighed, stroking her daughter's hair.

"I was a little, yes. But more than that, I was worried. I don't want to see you two fighting, I want you to love and protect each other."

Pietra looked her in the eyes. "I'm sorry I made you sad... And also about the broccoli."

Y/n let out a soft laugh and held her daughter's little face affectionately.

"And I want to apologize too, Pietra. I shouldn't have yelled at you at dinner. I was tired and lost my temper, but still, it wasn't right."

Pietra smiled a little and, with her eyes shining, said something that made Y/n hold her breath: "It's okay, mommy. It's good to express what we feel sometimes."

It was one of the phrases Y/n always said to her daughters. Hearing this coming from the little girl made her eyes water again, but this time, not from exhaustion, but from love.

Unable to hold it in, he pulled Pietra into a tight hug, whispering in her ear: "I love you so much, my princess. And Marie and daddy love you too."

Pietra smiled against her mother's shoulder before pulling away a little. Then, with his small hands, he gently wiped the tears from Y/n's face.

"Sorry, Mom."

Y/n held her daughter's hands and kissed her forehead. "I forgive you, my love."

Pietra yawned and rubbed her brown eyes. "I think I'll go to sleep. I'm tired."

Y/n nodded. "Then come on, I'll put you to bed, love."

Hand in hand, mother and daughter walked out of the kitchen and across the living room.

There, Lewis lay on the couch, with Marie half asleep on his chest. He tilted his head back and met his wife's gaze.

He smiled lovingly.

Y/n responded with an equally tender look before heading upstairs with Pietra, finally feeling a little lighter.

After helping Pietra take a shower and put on her pajamas, Y/n lovingly tucked her into bed. The little girl held her favorite stuffed animal tightly and, without asking for a bedtime story as usual, just closed her eyes.

Y/n smiled at the scene, adjusted the blankets over her daughter and turned off the light in the room before leaving, closing the door carefully.

As she passed Marie's room, she heard Lewis's voice narrating a princess story. He used different tones for each character, while Marie, already almost asleep, sighed softly.

The scene made Y/n smile. She went downstairs and walked to the living room sofa, throwing herself onto the cushions and closing her eyes. She sighed, throwing an arm above her head, trying to relax.

That day was finally over.

Shortly after, she felt the side of the couch dip and a warm arm wrap around her waist. Without opening her eyes, she smiled, knowing exactly who it was.

"Now I don't know if I want to have another one." He muttered, in a playful tone.

Lewis laughed out loud, pulling her a little closer. "You know what's worse? I was thinking the same thing!" He joked.

Y/n laughed along, resting her head on his chest, while Lewis lightly caressed her back.

"Do you want to watch something?" He asked.

She just shook her head and sighed.

"No... I just want to stay here, relaxing in your arms. I'm tired both physically from cleaning today, and emotionally."

Lewis kissed her forehead tenderly. "Then stay here with me. Now you can relax. It's okay."

Y/n smiled, snuggling deeper into her husband's embrace.

Days like that were difficult, exhausting. Patience was running out, emotions were building up. But in the end, they always found a way. They always found a balance. Because, at the end of the day, they were a family. And nothing would be greater than the love they had for each other.

[burytheruby]

HIII CAN WE PLS HAVE P2 OF THE PRICE DAUGHTER AND SIMON STORY??? PLS 😣 THE WRITING IS GOOD AND THE STORY IS JUST *chefs kiss* 💋💋💋 I WANNA SEE THEM LATER ON IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏😞😣🩷🩷💕

I N A P P R O P I A T E I I

the answer is YES I CAN 🙈 thank you everyone for the support! I unfortunately have been crazy busy with the holidays, then my birthday (yay 20!), then back to uni 😭 but I did promise I would come back, and so there will be a tag list for whoever wants to be updated!

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which Captain Price is your father, and he has accepted your feelings for his lieutenant.

OR: late night talks and confessions, your father would do anything to make you happy.

Part 1; you're in Part 2

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: age gap, fem! reader, ooc, canon divergent, still learning british slang please bear with me. WC: 1657

English is my second language.

Captain Price had dreaded this day, he never thought he'd see a future where you would come to him and ask him for advice. advice on romance. all because of his lieutenant. damn him. you sat next to him on the couch, shifting awkwardly as you both stared straight ahead at the tv, a game playing in the background. your father's favorite team, you noticed, against the team Simon had mentioned liking himself. almost humorous, Price had noticed the clear tension since your birthday two weeks ago. he appreciated the fact that his lieutenant was being careful, neither acknowledging the very needed—talk, let's call it.

but of course, you were never one to dance around the subject.

"we need to talk," you said simultaneously, it would've been endearing if it weren't for the fact that the talk was not about what dinner would be tonight, or who you thought would win the game playing on the tv, not even about the professor you loathed and couldn't wait to leave her class.

you turned to face your father, fidgeting with the pendant hanging on your neck—the one Simon gave you, of course. your father really tried to not roll his eyes and scoff at the sight, he has definitely given you prettier jewelry—or at least that's what he thinks. you wouldn't tell him you grew out of the heart shaped jewelry; it would break his own heart. after a long, tension-filled moment of silence, you finally spoke, your voice breaking through. "I think 'm old enough to know, dad." you sighed, as if trying to let go of the tension in your body. "an' s'not like we're not conscious of how this may look." you admitted, looking away as you clenched your fists.

yeah, you guessed it would be weird if the man you knew for most of your life suddenly became your lover. age gaps were taboo, especially one such as yours. but who cared? Simon saw you as a petulant, spoiled child until last year—not like he would tell you that, he wouldn't stand listening to your huffs and scoffs of complaints (acting as if he isn't your biggest enabler). that's beside the point, anyway. right now, your focus was on your father, a pensive look on his features as he looked at you.

and then you felt a little guilty when you recognized the tiniest hint of his eyes glazing—just for a second, just enough to ignite concern in you. "m'not getting sent away, y'know." you tried to lift the mood, and he could only smile a little. you were just as awful as he was when it came to comfort, and that was okay. he placed a hand on top of yours, giving a gentle squeeze as his eyes went to your every feature– from the shape of your nose to the volume of your lashes, you were his perfect girl. he often joked he birthed you, something you hated the imagery of no matter how sickly sweet it was that you were his daughter.

"aye, I know." he said, giving a tender kiss to your temple in a moment of vulnerability. his lips lingered there, feeling his heart squeeze and tear at the fact that he knew he had to let go. it was just hard, from the little girl he'd take everywhere, to the woman you were now. your father knew there was no point in trying to change your mind–or your heart, you were dead set on what you wanted. curse his own self. his hand let go of yours, and he pulled away from you. the gears inside his head were turning, the slow but steady acceptance of the relationship between you and his lieutenant.

"he's been less ratty lately," he admitted, his attention turning back to the tv as the opposing team scored. he scoffed, it was as if the universe wanted to mock him. "never heard him make so many bloody awful jokes in just two weeks." Price couldn't help but smile, seeing the rest of the team so distraught–except for Soap, that instigator–was exhilarating to him.

“yeah? m’sure he got ‘em from ya.” you couldn’t contain the smile on your face, seeing as Simon’s team was winning by a landslide. Price cursed under his breath, the hissing sound of the now opened beer brought your attention back to him, the features of your father illuminated by the light of the tv. his eye bags that become more prominent after every mission, the smile lines barely concealed by his mustache connected to his beard. your father hummed in response, sipping on the awfully bitter beer that your father enjoyed. for a picky drinker, he sure enjoyed the most awful you've ever tried.

"princess," your eyes roamed back up to his face, leaning your head on his shoulder with a sigh. with a tiny hum, expressing your attention, he then spoke again. "don't tell him I told you, but Simon's taking a week off duty." your eyes widened at that, then grew to confusion. Simon? Taking a break? That was new. The thought made your heart flutter, smiling subconsciously as yet another cheer could be heard from the tv, but you couldn't find yourself caring enough to see who had scored.

Instead, you checked your phone as it vibrated, a text on the screen making you sit up with an even bigger grin.

"I'll be back by this weekend, let me take you out on a date."

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

"shite," you cursed under your breath. your room was a mess, with clothes sprawled all over your bed and the wardrobe. it was Thursday, just a day away from seeing him again, and not a piece of clothing convinced you enough for the date. too formal? too casual? too feminine? a dress, or maybe jeans? you sighed in frustration, your fingertips softly massaging your temples as you sat on the chair of your dressing table. it's not like Simon puts much effort into his own attire, but this is a date. where are you going, again?

realization dawned as you realized he did not, in fact, tell you what the date would be. you cursed again, getting up only to slump down in your bed. should I text him? you thought, only to discard the idea almost immediately. he was busy, he's a lieutenant dealing with death's doorstep in every mission, and my father, that's enough stress. at the end of the day, all you achieved was to reorganize your wardrobe, and to make dinner for you and your father—if he came home tonight.

waiting in the dining table, poking at your food until the light sound of the keys jiggling and the door opening made your head snap up, finding your father walking in with something inside his duffel bag. "princess, I've got ya a gift from Simon." he unzipped the bag, and inside was a box–a brand box, your favorite to be specific. you gave a quick thanks to your father as you skipped past him, straight to your bedroom to open the box.

"thank you, Simon." was the text you sent immediately upon seeing what the box contained—a dress, of your favorite style and a color that complimented you just right. Simon knew you too well, or maybe he noticed the small things that others usually would not, such as the neckline of the dress that would look best with the pendant—yeah, maybe he really kept that in mind, and having you show it off for everyone to see that you are not going to be available in the foreseeable future.

Friday morning came around too quickly, waking up in the comfort of your bed to a message from Simon stating he would be back by the evening for your date.

hair up, or down? natural or should you just go bald? your makeup trials seemed to go wrong each time, from too bold of a color for your features, to barely noticeable blush you tried to add. maybe low heels, and maybe a few other jewelries. your head spun from stress, and it wasn't until your heart began to beat a little too faster that you finally took a break. Relax. you scolded yourself, your own reflection looking back at you as this time you managed to make your eyeliner even on both sides.

it was almost ridiculous, you told yourself, to fret this badly over a date. this isn't just a date, is it? it's the man you claimed to your father you would marry way back then, when you were just a child and caught a glimpse of the man wearing those dad-glasses you quietly make fun of. glancing over at the wall, you cursed when the time was past noon and almost evening. you had to finish now.

in the end, you decided to go for something a little outside of what your usual is, but nonetheless you kept getting complimented by your father as you walked back and forth on the living room. "a doll" he called you, and called Simon a bastard under his breath just in case he fucks up tonight. he gave you a reassuring smile and hid in the kitchen when the door was knocked. with sweaty hands and a heartbeat way above the normal speed, you opened the door to Simon with a smile on your face.

"love," he breathed out, his deep eyes roaming up and down how gorgeous you looked—as always. his hand came up to cradle your cheek, his lips just grazing your lips with a smile. "gorgeous, lovely." he all but purred, making your skin tingle and your face grow hot. you smiled in response, just about to close the gap when you remembered that your father was right there, hidden but there.

Well, the make out could wait until the date.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

AUGHHH part two is finally here, everyone do a standing ovation

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 13: dinner and a movie?

🔹🔹🔹

“Hello.” an unknown voice calls out to you from the library doorway, you quickly turn and spot a redhead in a wheelchair holding the door open with one arm.

“Hi there, are you one of the befores?”you watch as she wheels herself into the room, the door falling shut with a quiet thud as the carpet crunches softly beneath the wheels. “The befores?” She tilts her head, glasses slipping down her nose a bit before she nudges them back up.

“The people I apparently knew before the attack.”

She pauses at that, before nodding her head. “Yeah, I'm a before. I'm Barbara Gordon, nice to meet you again. Please call me Barb.” She holds her hand out for a handshake which you give, her hold unsurprisingly firm.

“Like wise, I'd introduce myself but that'd be foolish.” You drop down on the couch behind you after the introduction, lightly wincing for a moment. “Funny, are you in pain?” she puts the brakes on her wheelchair beside the couch and pulls a lemonade out, watching you curiously through her lashes.

You shrug before answering, she likes to stare you note. “Physical therapy is a bitch.” You also fell on your side earlier while trying to hold a plank, but that's for you alone to know.

She snorts at that, “oh, trust me I know exactly how much of a bitch it is.” She mutters under her breath, when you glance at her with furrowed brows she elaborates. “Spinal injury, long story.” You nod your head with a small wince, you've had enough of those types of injuries in your life.

“noted, well Miss Barb can I ask what you're here for? Not to be rude, I just don't remember much yet.” You go straight for the point, she seems relaxed but you don't miss how she watches your every move, head quickly turning towards you when you reach for the book you'd been reading when she came in. She's on edge around you.

“Dick invited me over for the movie.” She says casually before taking a loud sip of her drink, the memory of the overly touchy young man nearly makes you roll your eyes, of course he's here-wait… “what movie?” Barb smiles something devious, looking amused with herself for a moment before replying.

“oops, guess Bruce didn't tell you yet. Just between you and me he wants everyone to have dinner and watch movies with him in the cinema room, you included.”

….. What? You give her an incredulous look at that revelation, her expression and body language showing she's serious. “…alright, is this something the family does often…?”

She nods, still looking amused at spilling the tea before anyone else could. She leans closer to whisper conspiratorially to you. “Mhmm, usually it's Duke or Alfred pushing it but I think your man wants an excuse to spend time with you. Just treat him like a boy with a crush, yeah?” “…okay?”

She pats your shoulder almost patronizingly before taking the brakes off and rolling herself towards the door, calling to you over her shoulder as she goes. “I'll see you in a bit, operater!” The door slams loudly behind her.

🔹🔹🔹

dinners awkward, as soon as you’d walked in barb gave you a knowing grin before turning back to her conversation with cass and an unknown blonde girl. the blonde, upon seeing you, hopped up out of her chair and approached you.

“howdy partner.” they winked and gave you finger guns, looking you up and down with exaggerated scrutiny while starting to circle you.

you watch them with confusion, you’re guessing they’re one of the kids friends…

“…hi, we’ve met i’m assuming….?” “yep! call me stephie!” they nod with a smile and loop their arm through yours and pulling you with her towards the table, sitting you between her and dick, great.

the rest of the dinner was spent between two very chatty young people, by the end you understand captain rogers complaints about slang.

you tried to slip away after dinner, you even had the perfect excuse too. you were tired after physical therapy and wanted to crash early, but then you were cornered by bruce of all people.

“….hey, are you busy?” his voice is soft as he approaches you, he leans against the wall with forced casualness and crosses his arms loosely.

you shift slightly as you glance down the hallway and then look back at him, “i was just heading to bed, why?” barbs words echo in your head as he rubs at the back of his neck, is he still nervous around you?

“me and the kids were dogpiling in the screenroom….you wanna come sit in for a bit?” he smiles at you, though you can tell it’s forced. you glance down the hall again, he could invite his affair partner if he wants someone cuddly. you open your mouth to reject the invite when he speaks up again. “you don’t have to watch a whole film, i just think it’d be good for you to be around loved ones right now. maybe you’ll remember something?….” that’s practically a beg, you’re surprised he’s not on his knees for you right now.

just say no, your attempts at blending in won’t suffer if you’re too tired to play dollhouse. “……a few minutes won’t hurt.” why did you agree. but before you can backtrack he exhales and grabs your wrist to lead you, you’re so fucked…

you’re lead through the large house until you reach some kind of home theater room, barb and the two girls are again talking on one of the couches while tim leans against the stephie girl, damian is sitting in the floor with a large dog curled up trying to pretend it’s a lapdog, and dick is watching jason and duke bicker over something in the center of the room.

when bruce drags you in all eyes turn to you, there’s a moment of silence where you’re just awkwardly staring at each other before bruce clears his throat and pulls you further in the room to one of the couches.

“what’s the verdict, who’s picking this time?” bruce glances around as he speaks, his eyes landing on a scowling duke and a smug jason. “i want to watch the godfather again.” duke cuts in before jason or anyone else can. “dude, that was your pick at halloween. we’re not watching it again.” jason rolls his eyes as he walks over to you. “it’s a great movie!” duke calls out defensively as he follows jason.

“how about we watch something more light tonight?” dick tries to mediate, damian scowls up at him from the floor. “no, i’d rather watch the godfather again than sit through one of your disney movies.” dick looks offended at damian’s scoffing retort.

bruce sighs as the bickering morphs before your eyes, “come on let’s play nice, i thought you all had something picked out already?” “i just wanted to watch lord of the rings.” jason crosses his arms as he speaks, stephie rolls her eyes and speaks up from her spot on one of the couches. “you can’t just watch one of those though, we’re not sitting here for nine hours jay.” “you wanted to watch the barbie movie collection at christmas shut your mouth about long movie runs stephanie.”

you drop your head back against the couch while they bicker, bruce slowly sits down next to you at a respectful distance and drapes a blanket over your lap. it feels like he’s trying to keep you there. barb looks over at you with an amused smirk on her face, pointedly glancing between you two before turning back to her conversation.

“enough fighting guys, just pick something please.” bruce pinches his brow, clearly fed up. no wonder he’s going grey.

“how about we let master wayne decide? they should feel included yes?” a voice speaks up behind you all, alfred walking in the room with a sly look in his eyes. you bet he knows you don’t want to be here, he looks too smug as he sets down a tray of snacks and drinks.

the kids all exchange glances and turn to look at you, bruce shifts beside you and turns his head to speak quietly to you. “you don’t have to answer, i know you don’t know any of these movies so i can just pull rank on the kids.” you turn your head to also speak quietly, “it’s fine, i’ll manage somehow.” you glance at duke. “let’s watch the godfather.” you speak loud enough to be heard over the quiet bickering still happening.

duke throws his hands up in victory, “yes! suck it jay.” he quickly dodges the tossed pillow and goes to fiddle with the projector, looks like you’re resigned to sit here for a few hours.

🔹🔹🔹

M.list | prev | next

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444

[hana-recs]

going to throw my self off a cliff. and SOON!!!!

when u initially said you had something bitty for my birthday i was expecting like max 3k (my bad) but this is just. beyond anything i could’ve imagined. i laughed and i cried reading this which is just a testament to the skill of your writing — because it IS gorgeous and it is so very beautiful and i honestly don’t know how you do it. there were so many little details in there that were so cleverly done or they were so impactful or they just really FILLED the story with something UGHHHH u are truly just an incredible writer.

LIKE HELLO. first of the all the run reader had dating everyone from hhu !!!! she PULLS !!!!!!! especially vernon and cheol and wonwoo — i think that truly u illustrated the different relationships so well - nothing was cookie cutter, u could See the differences in dynamic + the differences in their problems + just all the different types of love that were experienced and yes. it made me very emotional. and not only that!! the other characters!!! mingyu and tzuyu have my whole heart!!!!! i loved their own small background story with their own piece of love and the reunion scene was. SO fucking cute.

wonwoo and reader were and will forever be everything. i think you built up all the relationships so well but theirs most of all, because it was a long time coming - everyone saw it coming - and it was both painful and also the best thing ever and i refuse to be normal about it!!!! BECAUSE???? the angst of their estrangement and the pain they both so obviously feel about it is so palpable because of the way you write!!!!

You do something that makes me think, oh, maybe she's into me? You'd seek me out for comfort, for help, for whatever, and I was there. I am there, like an idiot, hoping you'll just get it. Then you date people who are in proximity to me - my best friend, my team captain, the secretary of my AV club. Then you leave. You left, Y/N." “I know." You can't recognize the thickness in the back of your throat, the way you swallow around it as he fiddles with one of his rings. "You didn't even come say goodbye, Wonwoo. Hansol ripped my heart out and handed it to me, because of you, and you weren't even there." "I didn't want to see you cry." He mumbles, and you only shake your head.

^ LIKE THIS PART??? "i didn't want to see you cry" do you know how insane i am. do you even know. RGEHDHSHEHEH. u can literally feel wonwoo's emotions pouring out like ur SO good alta i'm literally going to start yelling.

I couldn't sleep most nights the first year that you were gone. I found myself still walking towards your apartment with Hansol. Hell, I've even hung out with Seungcheol, routinely, just to feel the influence of you. The essence of what you are, imprinted in the people you've graced with your presence."

^ HIM SEARCHING FOR HER IN ANY WAY HE CAN HAVE HER????? EVEN IN OTHER PEOPLE??????? altair. ALTAIR. i genuinely cannot do this all these fucking details are so insane and so beautiful and i don't know how you put them together like this at all but i'm SO grateful to ur mind.

and then the photo album. which was such a perfect detail!!!! she bakes for him and he takes photos of her like they're literally made for each other. it's soulmatism. the photo album was literally like the most amazing touch to an already incredible fic. i am a SUCKER for nostalgia and the general angst that comes with it and you write it so well that i actually feel like i need to do a backflip??? i actually feel like i'm going insane. again.

"What if you realize you don't want me?" "Oh, sweetheart. I'd be a fool not to want you. Let the sky fall the day I make that stupid decision."

^ i think this may be one of my favourite lines in the whole thing. like i genuinely made an audible squeak scream thing reading it for the first time. "id be a fool not to want you" what if i died it's so perfect and it's so THEM. after all the pining and all the Yearning and all the waiting!!

"I promise. It's your birthday, sweetheart. I'd bring down the stars if you asked."

i have nothing further to add this line speaks volumes all by itself. just know i giggled and kicked my feet.

Why not hang onto it, as long as he can? Why not take in every ounce of your light so long as you allow it, and reflect it right back to you? Why not be a mirror of your love, a beacon of the same hope you hold, a star in the sky that also tells you there is something to wish upon? (...)

^ and then there was this whole entire section at the end which just read like pure poetry. it was such a beautiful insight into wonwoo's character and even more of a perspective on his feelings and RGSHEHAHHEWKJE i can't even express myself properly anymore i'm literally going fucking crazy. sorry. alta your writing is always gorgeous and here especially it was just straight up otherworldly. yes i do feel like i ascended at the end of this fic. yes i cried multiple times (three to be exact). yes i will be grateful to you forever for this.

a few other quick details that i LOVED: the pink camellias!!!!! and the jimin/jk cameo made me giggle so bad; welcome to hana's! also made me giggle. omg yes and THE SNOOPY MENTION!! idk if we've talked about this before or if it's just pure coincidence but i fucking love snoopy. (same with baking actually - when i saw she was a baker i was so excited. again idk if that was on purpose or by coincidence but either way i love u omg).

alta i don't know how to make you understand exactly how grateful i am for you and for this and for your mind but. jesus fucking christ! i don't think i'll ever be able to say thank you enough. this fic is nearly 16k words of ur pure talent and hard work and it doesn't compute that u dedicated it to me and SHDHSHDGSH i truly think this is one of the nicest things that's ever happened to me for my birthday. it's a stupidly good piece of writing and like i said i truly don't know how you do it. it’s an honour to be able to read ur work 😭💗

SHDHSKSJ im so happy alta just. thank you!!!! SO much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love u endlessly!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hanging by a moment 🍻 j.ww [m]

synopsis: it's been a few years since you've been home for your birthday, and wonwoo can't wait to see you...right? genre: estranged childhood friends to lovers au. fluff, angst, suggestive themes. pairing: photographer!jeon wonwoo x fem!baker!reader | side pairing: kim mingyu x chou tzuyu word count: 15.8k rating: 18+. minors please do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol. food mentions. mentions of jealousy, breakups. wonwoo is a little bitter. pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc.) kissing. what to listen to: here is gone - the goo goo dolls ; over you - daughtry ; broken - lifehouse ; hanging by a moment - lifehouse ; long way home - 5 seconds of summer ; say yes - seventeen author's note: happiest birthday to my baby @wqnwoos ♡ i hope your birthday was full of wonderful memories and you had lots of good food, please continue staying healthy and i love you. [star dividers by @/cafekitsune here on tumblr!]

– LAST YEAR: GOYANGI SWEETS, HARLEM, NEW YORK.

"Since when do you celebrate Valentine's Day, Y/N?" Jeon Wonwoo's voice was staticky on the other end, and you rolled your eyes as you kept swiping icing on the red velvet cupcakes you'd been agonizing over for six days. Trying and dumping mixes, failed taste tests, a few burnt practice rounds all led up to this: you, up at two in the morning on FaceTime with Wonwoo, who was just now starting to finish up his work day.

You hadn't meant to move so far away, truly – or at least, not for this long. Your best friends were all back home, and the drastic time difference did work for some of them – but you rarely managed to catch Wonwoo. He would usually spend his time holed away in his bedroom or out with Kim Mingyu. However, since Mingyu moved in with his fiancée, Chou Tzuyu, three years ago – Wonwoo had the apartment to himself and you were his only company.

"Since when don't you, Jeon? No hot date for Desperation Day?"

"You watch too many movies, there's no such thing. Anyway, shouldn't you be sleeping? You open in, like, two hours." He was right, you did open in two hours.

There was just something comforting about hearing Wonwoo's voice so late in the night. It makes you feel warm, less alone.

And it's not like Wonwoo knew about your recent fight with your boyfriend.

It wasn't anything serious – just you telling him to get a fucking job, and him insisting that his job was rubbing your feet after a long day at work. It annoyed you so bad that you asked him to leave the apartment for the weekend. It's not that Wonwoo doesn't like Euijoo, but he certainly isn't his number one fan. You argue that you can't dislike someone you don't even know, but Wonwoo has made it clear that Euijoo is simply never going to be a part of his life if you're not present to make it happen. It's always been that way with Wonwoo, though. He quietly disapproved of most of the men you dated, even when you were back home – but he never made you feel bad about his perspective. He simply shared when you asked, and he didn't sugar coat it.

Before Euijoo, there was his clubmate, Hansol Chwe. Before Hansol, there was his teammate, Choi Seungcheol. Before Seungcheol, there was Mingyu. 

And every single one got a side-eyed glance, even his best friend.

Slowly, you stopped talking to Wonwoo about guys, because he always seemed to be right about you deserving more. To be frank, you weren’t too keen on not doing what you wanted to do, much less who. 

You and Wonwoo never breached that friendship line, and while you found solace in his irrevocable appreciation for you as a friend, you found it odd that around the time you began preparing for your relocation across the world, he floated away.

So much so that he hadn't even gone to the airport to say goodbye, or give you a hug. You hadn't seen Wonwoo in the weeks leading up to it after you told him you'd be leaving, and he always had an excuse as to why he couldn't call or hang out. You tried time and time again, only for him to eventually say he just didn't have time.

He did. You knew he did, because you saw him all over Mingyu and Tzuyu's Instagram stories. You saw him playing chess with Yoon Jeonghan. You saw him at the art museum with Xu Minghao.

You saw him soft launch a girl on his Instagram story the moment you boarded your plane. His story had been posted twenty minutes before, while you were getting your heart ripped out. You’d gone to New York with eyes full of tears, and not just because you were leaving behind everything you knew. 

Wonwoo was home, and you wouldn’t have him with you.

Nevertheless, Wonwoo was never…directly the reason behind your breakups – at least, to your understanding. You never toed the line of flirting with him and vice versa, you never made your friendship out to be something it wasn't.

You and Mingyu broke up because of school but stayed extremely close. You met his then-girlfriend,Tzuyu, six months into freshman year, and you were the first person Mingyu ever told that he wanted to marry her. You even helped Mingyu build a Pinterest wedding board when he would visit you and Wonwoo.

The others? Seungcheol made the mature decision and broke up with you because of jealousy issues on his part. Hansol broke up with you with an apology and nothing more, and you tried your best to take it in stride. However, taking things in stride is not your forte – which is how you ended up with Euijoo.

Hansol broke up with you at the airport the day you left for New York, the guilt taking over his features as your eyes widened and filled with tears. You had muttered that you understood, that it was fine – but the fourteen-hour flight from Seoul to New York was full of tears and sniffling. You're sure the woman next to you had been wondering if you were okay, but you're also almost positive that the fourteen-hour loop of 5SOS' Close As Strangers through your headphones spoke for itself.

You had met Euijoo at a bar a week after you landed in New York. Your apartment had long been ready and furnished, waiting for your arrival. You sullied it that same night by bringing him home, the aura of the apartment darkening the longer he stayed. And stayed, he did. It's like he had nowhere else to go, and you were far too nice about it, too. 

Hence, how he became your 'boyfriend' and how he 'moved in with you.' 

Bullshit; he went home to his mother's one-bedroom condo and picked up a dusty Playstation and a pillow he liked – that was his 'moving in.'

As for why Wonwoo doesn't like him, it's obvious – Euijoo is a loser. He has no goals, no sense of urgency, no whimsical nature – nothing like you. At least, that was what Wonwoo told you the first time you called him from New York…which was over six months since you left Seoul.

You wanted to believe there was a twinge of jealousy in Wonwoo’s voice when you told him about Euijoo. His brows furrowed, he sucked his teeth more times than you could count, and he refused to meet him when you offered to have him say hello.

You couldn't lie to yourself, you knew your relationship with Wonwoo was dwindling. Your calls were growing sparse, he didn’t tell you anything about his personal life, and you still hadn’t gone back home. To him, to your friends, to your parents. The two of you had grown up together, just slightly out of each other's circles. There were two or three people who were your 'friends of friends' that connected you, before Mingyu was the first official bridge between the two of you in the seventh grade. You went on to date Mingyu for three years during high school, before you wound up going to a different university than he did – but attended with Wonwoo, instead. You hated to admit it, but you knew that you clung to Wonwoo like gum did a shoe. You hid behind his broadening frame at fraternity parties, you would ask him over to your dorm (and later, your apartment) for game nights. You eventually started baking for him – cookies, cupcakes, the like. And then you met Seungcheol, on your way to Wonwoo's apartment. You slammed into him, painting his white t-shirt and shorts in pink icing – and you remembered stuttering over your words as you watched his brows furrow while he wiped icing off his stomach. He ended up clicking his tongue, nodding his head and shrugging.

"I guess you can call it avant garde, right?"

The two of you exchanged numbers, and you wound up being late to Wonwoo's place – but at that time, it didn't matter. Not when you scored a date with an older boy that had pouty lips and the thickest thighs you'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. Wonwoo had noticed you were giggly that night, but chose to brush it off when he walked behind you and saw you typing away to an unsaved number.

You and Seungcheol ended up dating for about a year, but the jealousy issues began before your relationship even started. He knew Wonwoo, and they were on the same soccer team – but something about the way Wonwoo spoke about you seemed to tick him off. No matter how often your lips were on his, your hands on his body, your body in his bed – Seungcheol's eyes always narrowed at the sight of Wonwoo floating around you for whatever reason, even if you initiated contact. 

You cheered at all his games, but Wonwoo was also there even if you wore one of Seungcheol's jerseys. You invited him to your bake sales, yet Wonwoo was always the one taste testing your recipes. You invited Seungcheol to your birthday dinner, and Wonwoo was naturally there.

Wonwoo recounting memories of you as a kid at dinner was what made Seungcheol make the decision to break up with you the following week. He paced around his apartment while you sat on his couch, rattling off all the ways that Wonwoo spoke about you that meant so much more than just a platonic love.

And you didn't comfort Seungcheol, or refute his thoughts. 

In fact, you denied them. You said there was no way Wonwoo saw you as anything more than his friend, you insisted that Wonwoo seeing you in the worst moments of your life was enough to make him feel icky about dating you.

It wasn't until Seungcheol crouched in front of you, holding your hands in his that you understood that he wasn't kidding. He told you that part of growing old together and being in love is seeing each other in those situations and still choosing to care and stay. He told you that Wonwoo holding your hair back as you threw up, Wonwoo knowing all your siblings' names and their favorite things, Wonwoo seeing you riddled with the flu and gross stomach bugs…

Wonwoo cared about you far more than he let on.

You left Seungcheol's apartment that night with a heavy heart and holding the stained white shirt from the first day you met him in your hand. It was still soaked in his cologne, and you remember crying yourself to sleep for two weeks straight.

Wonwoo had been there, and when you told him everything Seungcheol had said – he'd apologized.

He didn't deny anything. He didn't refute any of Seungcheol's feelings.

He apologized, for both making Seungcheol feel that way as well as being the straw that broke the camel's back. You hadn't known what to say, so you just offered to let him stay over and bake cookies with you.

He did, and the two of you gorged yourselves on white chocolate chip cookies while watching White Chicks. You cried again while he was there, and he wiped your tears and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He held you close as you pouted into his shirt, the soft scent of patchouli from his cologne settling into your skin as a blanket of comfort.

You also remember peering up at him through teary eyes, and his lips instinctively pressing to your hairline. His mumbled words never left your mind, either.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.”

You didn't date again for a bit after that, and Wonwoo made it a point to introduce you as his friend any time the two of you hung out. It made you feel odd, the way he forced the agenda that you were his friend and nothing more when you had no issue just going with the flow. You understood he didn't want a repeat of your relationship with Seungcheol, but it felt like he was forcing something more than just the label of your friendship.

People often asked if something had happened between the two of you — of which you always denied casually. If they asked Wonwoo, he would scoff, as if he were offended anyone would ever think you were more than just his friend. As if it was gross, or repulsive, to see you as a woman and not just the girl he grew up with. You met Hansol the next school year, a cheeky cinematography freshman that frequented your bake sales. Wonwoo met him there as well, and was the reason you and Hansol met formally. Apparently, Wonwoo and Hansol were both in the AV Club, where Wonwoo also met his first girlfriend: Lee Jaehee.

Lee Jaehee...  

She had also been quite the frequenter of your bake sales. She enjoyed your slutty brownies and the strawberry blondies you made, and the two of you had been so close to becoming friends when Wonwoo asked her out. He'd even asked you to bake something for her and you did it happily, free of charge. However, Wonwoo asking her out meant her finding out that you and him went back over two decades, and the same look that settled in Seungcheol's brows, settled in hers. It was painful, to see how she would tense at your presence at Wonwoo's soccer games, ones you'd always attended. It hurt your feelings to see her give you a quick smile before passing by your booths at the bake sales, not bothering to stop by for a nibble or a chat.

It pained you to know that Wonwoo missed your birthday dinner that year to spend the weekend with her, instead. You wound up going over to Seungcheol's apartment that night, and he comforted you as best as he could – by offering a drink and inviting his friends Jeonghan and Joshua over to entertain you. Despite it all, Seungcheol never really held any resentment towards you – but he did have zero problem telling you how blind you were.

You ignored it, too.

You didn’t like the odd feeling you got in your chest thinking about Wonwoo in any way that wasn’t platonic. You weren't stupid – Wonwoo was incredibly profound with a hint of goofy humor. He was smart, and tall…and handsome…God, he was so handsome, it made you want to bite your fist.

So the idea of his hands on you? His lips on yours, his bed being more than just a drunken sanctuary…

It was too much for you to handle. 

You started dating Hansol during the first semester of your senior year of college. He'd just become a sophomore, and everyone around him had been incredibly surprised that the senior sweetheart at the bake sales stopped making her incredibly soft peanut butter cookies. The reason? Hansol, and his allergy to peanuts.

No one said shit after that, only cooing at your boyfriend's blushy cheeks from your attention.

Your relationship with Hansol also came as a surprise to Wonwoo, and he found out in the strangest way – by walking into your apartment using his spare key and seeing the two of you getting frisky in the kitchen and covered in flour. You hadn't heard him come in, and didn't seem to sense his presence in the threshold of your kitchen. You don't know it, but Wonwoo has the image of you burned in his mind. The slope of your neck as Hansol kissed down it, the way your shirt was pushed up to reveal flour-covered handprints on your bare chest, the way your thighs were flexing around your boyfriend's waist… The sound of your whimper into Hansol's mouth.

He then made his presence known by coughing exaggeratedly, and you and Hansol almost slipped. Wonwoo rolled his eyes as Hansol yanked your shirt back into place, clearing his throat and greeting Wonwoo.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to know that there is no way eating flour out of each other's mouths is sexy." Wonwoo had come over to tell you that he and Jaehee broke up, and he did tell you – but on his way out of your apartment. You could barely hear him as the door closed, but you were also trying to finish what you and your boyfriend started in the kitchen — so you filed it to the back of your mind as you invited Hansol to join you in the shower.

It wasn't until after graduation that you decided to open a pastry shop. However, you were unsure that your at-home learning was enough to satisfy a gaggle of clientele – and decided to start applying to pastry schools. You’d already obtained a business degree, which made the idea only cement further in your head. Hansol had been incredibly supportive, even going as far as sending you applications and fee waivers while he was in class and you were driving around Seoul with Wonwoo looking for work for the time being.

Then you got a letter back from a pastry school in New York City, and Hansol was ecstatic. He paid for your flight and even took a week off school to go visit it with you. He wound up setting up meetings with realtors so you could get an apartment, and the two of you even went as far as looking at empty lease spaces where you could open a business.

You accepted the offer, and the school covered your flight back to Seoul and then back to New York City. Your parents covered your first year of rent at an apartment in SoHo, after you sent back videos of you spinning in the SeaGlass Carousel and having dinner at Shuka.

However, something changed when you went back to Seoul to pack your things. You also realized you had done all of this without even mentioning it to Wonwoo, who seemed slightly distant when you finally met him for dinner at his place after packing up your apartment. Mingyu and Tzuyu had also been there. Hansol also seemed distant for a few days, not bothering to answer your messages or calls. You showed up at his apartment, only for Seungkwan to answer the door with a knowing look and tell you he wasn't home. You remember scowling, and pushing past Seungkwan to see Hansol asleep in his bedroom, tucked away with a Star Wars blanket you'd bought him for his birthday. 

You picked a fight, and Hansol wasn’t having it — said he wasn’t in the right headspace to have this conversation, and asked to rain check it for a better time. You argued there was no better time than the present, and his swollen face (whether from tears or sleep, you were unsure) was enough to make you back off for the time being. He quietly asked you to join him in his bed, and you reluctantly kicked your shoes off and did just that.

He promised he still cared, and promised he still loved you, but it felt different, the way he held you. Like a last hurrah, like a ‘goodbye’ and not a ‘see you later.’ Like things were going to end and there was nothing you could do to change his mind.

You couldn't say you were surprised that Hansol broke up with you a month later, but you were certainly hurt. Wonwoo was also nowhere to be reached at this point, your calls going straight to voicemail and your texts going unread. You assumed he'd finally landed a gig, but it was still unlike him to not respond to you, of all people.

At least, you thought that was what had happened, until you saw his Instagram story.

You stopped wondering where he'd been after that.

It had been four years since then. You hadn't gone back to Seoul once, not even for Christmas or when your parents begged you back. You called for birthdays, you sent gifts out two months in advance. You sent photos of your shop, of your apartment, of you and Euijoo.

Your parents didn't really care about the ones Euijoo was in.

You finally opened your pastry shop in the middle of Harlem – two years after arriving in New York, tweaking your recipes to cater to the local clientele. Your shop was always full of customers and you loved what you did – but most of all, the people loved you. They loved seeing how easily you won people over, how you celebrated your accomplishments by putting even more effort into your business, how your employees cared about you and your shop.

You truly became an essential part of some people's lives – Ms. Julianna who came in every morning for a chocolate éclair; Mr. Cortéz came in every Saturday morning for a box of mixed empanadas and one butterscotch cupcake for his granddaughter, Elisa; Mrs. Stegenga sliding in every Tuesday for a strawberry tart and a cup of unsweetened whipped cream for her dog, Harley. 

Euijoo came in everyday as well, but not for a pastry – but to bug you. You'd kicked him out a few times, shoving a warm cinnamon twist into his mouth or an iced matcha with cheese foam into his hand – but he always floated back.

Which was odd, since he didn't have a car and it took thirty minutes to get from your apartment in SoHo to your shop in Harlem. Where he was getting the money for the taxi, or to load his Metrocard was beyond you – the son of a bitch didn't lift a finger.

Now, you're here. You're still at your shop, while Euijoo is likely sprawled out on your king-sized bed, with his outside clothes still on. You're grimacing to yourself as you smooth icing out on one of the cupcakes, your brow furrowed as you hear Wonwoo sigh.

"I miss you." And just as fast as it was said, he moved on.

"Since you're not going to sleep, how was your birthday? I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call, I've been slammed with projects. Tzuyu booked me for engagement photos, isn't that crazy?" Much like your friends missed out on your life, you missed out on theirs. Mingyu and Tzuyu opened a restaurant in the middle of Seoul, and you missed it. Mingyu and Tzuyu had their first daughter, and you missed it. Mingyu and Tzuyu got engaged, and you missed it. You wouldn't be surprised if you missed their wedding, too.

Wonwoo? He opened a photography studio. He did weddings, all sorts of parties, maternity shoots. He did boudoir shoots for a bit, before handing them over to his business partner, Saerom. She had been introduced to Wonwoo through a few contacts at your old university, and he took her on as an apprentice. She now accompanies him to many shoots and gigs, usually taking the reins if Wonwoo loses his patience or gets too overwhelmed.

You'd seen his photos displayed at a few galleries after you left for New York. Your mother went and took pictures of his exhibits, his shy smile hidden behind flutes of champagne. You congratulated him via text, only to receive a thumbs up in response and nothing more.

"Yeah, that's crazy. Listen, Woo, I'm gonna try and focus on this. I'll call you later, yeah?" You sighed, frustration evident in your voice. You watched as Wonwoo struggled not to roll his eyes as he tongued his cheek, before nodding.

"Sure thing. Get some rest."

He hung up before you could respond, and you looked at the FaceTime log. Eight missed calls from Wonwoo over the last few days, three missed calls from Tzuyu and two from Mingyu.

Your friends missed you, across the world. You were missing every precious moment of theirs.

And instead, you were here. Frosting cupcakes at almost three in the morning, while your do-nothing boyfriend enjoyed the warmth of your apartment. Frosting cupcakes, while your parents begged you to come home for a few days at the very least.

The money here was good. It always had been, and you'd built such a good connection with your clientele and you couldn't imagine abandoning it all because you were homesick.

But you missed home. You missed your mother's hearty soups, you missed your father serving you dinner instead of you serving Euijoo after a long day of doing that for strangers. You missed Tzuyu's light laughter, Mingyu's warm embraces…

Wonwoo. God, you missed Wonwoo.

You remember sending him a photo of your storefront as the sign was finalized, the baby blue calling to the eyes amongst the red brick.

Msg To: Jeon Wonwoo ♡ [11/09] look at it! goyangi sweets is officially in business! (read: 1:09PM)

Msg From: Jeon Wonwoo ♡ [11/09] goyangi?

Msg To: Jeon Wonwoo ♡ [11/09] what the fuck are you doing awake? it's 3am in seoul [11/09] yeah, goyangi. i miss you (read: 1:10PM)

He hadn't answered after that.

Sighing, you clicked your tongue and leaned against your stainless steel counter. You grabbed a cupcake off the cooling rack, prying the warm dessert in half and smearing a bit of frosting on the inside, shoving it into your mouth. You closed your eyes as you chewed, letting your shoulders sag at the sweet treat that made all the stress worth it.

It was worth it, right? The money and the love from the locals, the feeling of physical success…it was enough. It was worth the lonely nights you yearned for 

You wiped your hands, moving to the front of the shop and dragging the metal divider down to block the view of outsiders. You weren't opening the shop today, no. You're going to go home, and kick Euijoo out of your bed and sleep.

That's all you need. Some sleep.

– SOPHOMORE YEAR: SEOUL HAWKS VS YONSEI EAGLES, SEMIFINALS.

"We have No. 08, Choi Seungcheol approaching the goal area for the freekick. Choi is the team captain for the SNU Hawks, and the only PreMed student on the team. He has also scored fifty-six percent of all game-winning goals this season, and we're hoping this kick gets them into the Championship bracket."

You were on the edge of your seat, your frame being swallowed by one of Seungcheol's jerseys. You were alone in the stands for the first time – Mingyu and Tzuyu were stuck at the concessions stand. Unfortunately, you were also the only person on this side of the field wearing an SNU jersey, and trying not to tweak out as you listened to Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin talk about your boyfriend over the PA.

"Oh, oh, looks like Choi is not taking the freekick after all?" Jimin's voice was clear, and the crowd collectively sighed as Seungcheol analyzed the players and shook his head.

You were barely able to sit down as you watched him jog over to his referee, making motions with his hands and arms when you saw Wonwoo crossing the field in a sprint. He slid next to Seungcheol, who pulled him closer into the circle and kept talking. Wonwoo's brows were furrowed as he nodded, breathing heavily before wiping his forehead with the bottom of his shirt. "It seems Choi has nominated No.17, Jeon Wonwoo, to take the freekick instead. Jeon is the second in command, dedicating two years of his college career to this team. He's scored sixteen percent of the game-winning goals this season, opting to stay in the shadows." You didn't like that.

"Alright, alright…it seems we're lining up…Eagles are looking fine this year, aren't they?" "Jeon, that's inappropriate." "What, man? You're going to look at Kim Yugyeom and say I'm wrong?" "Jungkook, they can hear you."

"Hey, shit. Here's your soda." Tzuyu slides in next to you, and you don't unglue your eyes from the field as you reach and fumble for your drink. The straw poked your hand as Mingyu slid past you, making you scowl as you swatted his leg for him to sit down.

"Wonwoo's taking the kick? I thought it was going to be Cheol." Mingyu muttered, taking a bite from his hot dog. You nodded, watching as Wonwoo shook his head while still talking to Seungcheol. His hands were moving rapidly, likely explaining why Wonwoo didn't want to make the kick. Your boyfriend only gave Wonwoo a stern look, and you could make out the words falling from his lips.

"I believe in you. Kick the fucking ball."

You watched as the Eagles made their wall, their goalie shaking his legs out. Kwon Soonyoung, you remembered – you'd met him at a frat party at Yonsei a few weeks back. Seungcheol had gone with you, making friends with the enemy (more like scoping out his competition. Sneaky bitch.) "C'mon, Woo." You mumbled to yourself, grabbing Tzuyu's hand for support as she shoved a nacho into her mouth. You were too amped up to eat, this kick was the one that would settle the score – and it was all on Wonwoo.

You knew Seungcheol wouldn't put anyone he didn't trust on this sort of line. Yeah, he had an issue with how close you and Wonwoo were, but his team was important to him – he'd built this one on his own, handpicked, the best of the best. You trusted Seungcheol knew what he was doing, and that he wouldn't set up Wonwoo for failure…

…And he didn't, as you watched Wonwoo's kick bounce off the goalpost and straight into the net – just barely missing Soonyoung's fingertips.

"THE HAWKS ARE GOING TO THE CHAMPIONSHIPS!"

You cheered happily, the only one besides Mingyu and Tzuyu – and earned the nastiest of glares from Yonsei students as you ran down the steps of the bleachers. Seungcheol was jumping with his arms around Wonwoo and another player, Wen Junhui, when you pushed past them to get to your friend.

"Wonwoo! That was fucking amazing!"

He just shook his head, aiming the water bottle into his mouth as he gestured towards Seungcheol.

"That's all Cheol's idea. Mastermind behind it all." You whipped around to see your grinning boyfriend being shaken by Mingyu, trying to pry himself from your friend's embrace as you felt the cold splash of the water cooler being poured on Wonwoo. It went down your back as well, making you squeal as you jumped out of the way. Seungcheol reached his arm out to you, and you grabbed his hand as his teammates picked a soaked Wonwoo up and onto their shoulders.

"We'll meet you at the parking lot!" Mingyu yelled as he and Tzuyu trailed after them, and Seungcheol only gave a thumbs up. It was customary that the entire team went to dinner together, usually still in their stinky and sweaty jerseys but Seungcheol had long refused to let the team be represented that way. Everyone went home to get themselves together, then he footed the bill.

"Cheol, that was great! You're going to the championships!" Your smile was hurting your cheeks as he nodded, pulling you into his chest. He was sweaty and overwhelmingly warm, but you didn't care as he plucked the fabric of your wet shirt off your back in greeting.

"You know…you could've greeted me first." "Oh, not this again! Seungcheol, Wonwoo is just my friend." "I know he is, Y/N." Seungcheol said pointedly, but you felt scrutinized under his arched brow. You felt your lip jut out into a pout, and he sighed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"C'mon, you can come over to mine and change." He swept your hair back over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your neck. You frowned, your hands floating to his wrists as he shook his head.

"Tell me you love me, Cheol." "I love you, honey. Come on."

It wasn't a lie. Seungcheol did love you, but it'd slightly become less of a romantic love as the months pressed on. He couldn't get over the odd feeling in his stomach when he saw Wonwoo's soft gestures towards you, the way Wonwoo served your drinks at the parties you went to, the way Wonwoo behind a camera made you smile easily – far easier than necessary for someone that was just your friend.

He hated how you didn't see it, the way Wonwoo was in love with you. He could see it, and he knew it was the truth: Wonwoo would visibly tense at the sound of your name. Seungcheol remembers when Junhui asked him his plans last week, and how Wonwoo grimaced when Seungcheol said he was taking you on a date night.

He didn't like feeling this way. He didn't like feeling like his jealousy was festering in the pit of his stomach while you saw it as nothing more than just friendly banter. Granted – Wonwoo never flirted with you, never touched you inappropriately, he never crossed the line.

But the soft compliments he gave you? The gentle swipe of your hair off your face and the adjustment of your necklaces?

The way he calmly called your name, or sweetheart from across the room…

And you listened.

It wasn't your fault. Seungcheol knew it wasn't, and he felt like a fool to keep feeling so much resentment towards Wonwoo – especially when Wonwoo also made it strictly known that everything he felt was platonic.

It just didn't feel that way.

"I love you, Cheol." "I know, honey. Now…let's get dinner?"

– FIVE YEARS AGO: INCHEON AIRPORT TO LAGUARDIA, NEW YORK.

"I'm sorry."

You were standing in the middle of Incheon Airport, your duffle bag tucked over your shoulder when Hansol dropped the bomb.

"Sorry?" You whispered, your voice shaky as the reality of his words sank in.

It'd been a few days since you packed your last box and dropped it off at your parents' house. Hansol had gone with you, warmly greeting your parents and sitting in your living room, your mother showing him baby photos. You remember feeling your heart race at how Hansol traced your face in the pictures, before glancing up at you.

The wild beating in your chest hadn't been positive, and there was a glint of knowing in Hansol's eyes. The relationship was over, it was just a matter of who pulled the plug, and when. It had been a month or so since you settled everything in New York, and a month since either of you spoke about it. You had gone to his apartment and looked to pick a fight – but the fight never happened. He pulled you into him, and you had snuggled in his bed. You kissed, you watched movies…

But it was a goodbye and you denied it. In your heart, in your mind, you wanted to deny it. It was a good thing, wasn't it? To be in New York and know that Hansol had connections there? His sister lived there. If he wanted…if he wanted, he could come with you. Transfer to a university in New York, and it would be worth it. To study in a place he once called home, to breathe in the inspiration of the city that has been the background of hundreds of films, the breeding ground of insane creativity? And if not…what about you? Were you enough to want to move in with? Did he see a future with you where things were more than just college sweethearts who stayed over at each other's apartments more than four times a week? Did he understand who you were, to the depths – the need to love, because you were overflowing with it?

Did he see a future where you were more than just attached at the hip with Wonwoo?

The truth was, he did. He saw it all with you – the apartment, the marriage, hell, even a kid or two. He saw all of it, a ring and a career alongside you and to see all your hopes and aspirations grow into something tangible. He saw it.

You didn't.

"I know it's shitty of m-me to do this, especially n-now." He held back his tears, but his voice shook with bitten back sobs anyway. "But I can't. I c-can't do long distance."

Somehow, he knew you knew that wasn't the real reason. He knew, from the way the back of your eyes filled with hurt and betrayal, the grip on your duffle making the strap burrow into your hand. The way you bounced on your toes, once, twice – before nodding. A singular tear rolled down your face.

"It's okay. I understand." Your voice had been surprisingly steady as he hesitated, before reaching his arms out. You stepped into them, and somehow felt the weight off your shoulders as he hugged you tightly. "I'll miss you, Sol." "I miss you already, babe. Please call me when you land, okay? I'll be up, I swear."

You had called him when you landed. He'd arranged to have a car pick you up and take you to your new apartment. He finally cried on the phone, and you sobbed with him as you made your bed and settled in.

After six hours of reminiscing and crying on the phone, you hung up for what you thought would be the last time. He wished you good luck, and to call him whenever you wanted. And God, you wanted to.

But just like Wonwoo, you left it alone. Six months, not a single word.

– PRESENT: LAGUARDIA AIRPORT TO JEON WONWOO, HOME.

You looked into the empty space you used to call your second home. Gone were the calming periwinkle walls, the gold-detailed pastry cases. Gone were your cherry wood bar stools, the wicker recliners in the corner, the play areas for children. 

Your shop was gone, and you held the keys in your hand one last time.

"End of an era, huh? Where are you going to go now?" Mr. Cortéz was next to you, holding his granddaughter on his hip as you sighed.

"I'm not sure. I'm going to miss Harlem, but I know that…this isn't home." You said sheepishly, running a hand through your hair. He nodded, patting your shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

"We're going to miss you here, mija. You will always have a place in Harlem with us." To say you wanted to cry was an understatement, but you just blinked the tears back as you allowed him and his granddaughter to envelope you into an embrace. "I left my cupcake recipe with your wife, so you can always make them for Elisa. I'm going to miss you."

"Be safe, okay? Don't give up on your dreams." He patted your back softly, and you held back a sniffle as your leasing agent gave you a soft smile. Goodbyes were never something you were good at, but you couldn't say anything more as you handed your keys back to the leasing agent and turned to your packed car. You grimaced at the sight of Euijoo's neck pillow still in your passenger seat, and you reached in through the window to grab it and shoved it in the trash.

You sighed, glancing up at your empty shop once more before slipping into the driver's seat, gripping the glittery wheel cover. You blinked once, twice, before shoving your key in the ignition and pulling out of your parking spot. 

You truly had no idea if this was the right decision. In your mind, you weren't sure.

But your heart?

You broke up with Euijoo a few months ago, and kicked him out of your apartment. You slowly started selling everything in the apartment, only packing your essentials and finding a wholesale thrift to take all your furniture from the pastry shop. You closed the shop officially a week ago, and did a mass bake sale to finish all your products. 

You went back and forth to Seoul without telling anyone, finding a cozy apartment in Gangnam and meeting with a leasing agent there to open a shop. Your parents long stopped asking you to come home, but you couldn't help and feel giddy as you walked around the city – gorging yourself on hot street food and buying furniture for your new apartment without interference.

Now? You just had to board your plane. You'd sold your car to Euijoo's brother, Hyunjin, and he was waiting at the airport to take it once you left. You had zero plans of telling anyone anything, and you'd be landing in Seoul the day before your birthday. You could catch up on any sleep, and then visit Mingyu and Tzuyu's restaurant. Maybe get dinner there, maybe catch up with the couple…

Maybe surprise Wonwoo.

Yeah, that sounds like the plan.

"Nice change of scenery, finally took a vacation?" Wonwoo's voice is once more staticky through FaceTime, and you've got him propped up in your new bathroom. You hadn't said anything about leaving New York yet, but you shrugged as you carefully lined your lips.

"Mhm, could say that. Finally get to do shit without Euijoo weighing me down. What are your plans tonight? Going to Gyu's?" You ask nonchalantly, but you can feel your hands trembling as you put down your lipliner. If Wonwoo notices, he doesn't say anything.

"Actually, I'm going to swing by the restaurant in a bit. We always call you for your birthday, you know, so it's funny you called me first." He nods lightly, but you know Wonwoo too well to think he's not even slightly suspicious. "Wanted to beat you to it, I guess. I feel alone here a bit, the resort is super nice but I'm so…ugh, I don't know. I might go out for a beer, see what kind of trouble I can get myself into." You wiggle your brows in the camera, and Wonwoo snorts. He swings his keys in front of him, shaking his head as he speaks.

"Not too much trouble, I hope. Have you talked to your parents yet? I know your mom misses you, you've been even more MIA since you and Euijoo broke up. I commend it, don't get me wrong, but still. Where the hell have you been?" "Healing." You shrug, smushing your cheek with the palm of your hand. Wonwoo doesn't look like he believes you, but you only give him a soft smile. He tries to bite his back, tonguing his cheek as he huffs. 

"You look happier. I like that." "I feel happier, Woo." It's not a lie. You feel so much lighter being back in Seoul, knowing that your family and friends are no more than a train ride away.

You pretend to check your watch, sucking your teeth.

"Shit, I'm going to miss my dinner reservation. Will you still call me when you get to the restaurant? I miss you guys." You pout, tucking your hair behind your ears as Wonwoo nods.

"Yeah, no worries. Be safe, and don't get too tipsy. I can't hold your hair when you throw up from all the way over here, you know." He scolds, making you giggle.

"Got it. I'll see you, yeah?" You nod, and he does the same.

"See you, sweetheart." The call goes dead as your heart registers the pet name, but you immediately rustle out of the bathroom to catch a taxi. You're wearing a black crew neck over a nice pair of jeans, paired with your favorite dirty Chucks in forest green. You grab your winter coat off the hook by the door, tugging it on and shoving your phone in your pocket. Checking the coat pockets for your wallet and keys, you find both in the left pocket and practically slam out of your apartment.

Not having been to Mingyu and Tzuyu's restaurant definitely proved navigating there to be difficult. You got out a block away from the actual spot, tugging a face mask over your face and pulling the hood of your coat over your hair. You take a deep breath, taking a step forward when you see a tall man step out of a taxi, a black coat covering broad shoulders. Thick frames sit on his nose, the lower half of his face covered by a black mask. You squint your eyes to see closer as he hands the driver a wad of cash, and the crinkle of his nose proves it's exactly who you're looking for.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You stay rooted in your spot as he walks coolly into the restaurant, holding the door open for a woman and her daughter to slip out. The daughter's eyes widen as he moves past them, her cheeks flushing as her mother rushes her off the sidewalk. What a funny thing, to see someone else experience the same things you do.

Over the year that you decided to leave New York, you spoke to Hansol and Seungcheol a lot – even after promising 'this is the last call,' you called them again and again. As it turns out, he too felt that Wonwoo was a bigger part of your life than he could ever be, but it didn't hit him until he found out Wonwoo had missed every single AV Club meeting in the two weeks following him finding out that the two of you were dating. Wonwoo didn't speak to Hansol directly for over a month, until Hansol confronted him and got the answers he was looking for.

Wonwoo had long been in love with you, and had gone over to your apartment initially to, yes, tell you he'd broken up with Jaehee; but he also went over there to confess to you. He'd brought over a bouquet of pink camellias, but left them on the porch in case he caught you at a bad time – and Hansol later found out he threw them away on his way out of your apartment complex.

At first, Hansol had nothing to say on the matter. You were his girlfriend — but he couldn’t lie to himself, the guilt of knowing Wonwoo had been in love with you for so long was starting to eat away at him. With a reluctant heart, he ended things; only for Wonwoo’s dumbass to not make a move and let you slip away to New York.

You'd also heard from Seungcheol and Hansol that he hadn't kept a girlfriend around for too long since – nothing to write home about. He didn't introduce any of them to anyone, just soft launched here and there on social media but mostly kept the "situationships" to himself. 

The only hope you had in your belly was that your plan would go, well, according to plan. You'd ordered a bouquet of flowers, pink camellias, to be delivered to Wonwoo at the restaurant after you arrived. After that…okay you didn't plan anything after that, but spontaneity is cool, right?

You wipe your palms on your coat, taking a deep breath as you walk towards the door. Yanking it open, you hear the doorbell alert the people inside – only to see a few people scattered around. Mingyu is wiping a glass down behind the bar and Tzuyu is sitting on a barstool next to Wonwoo, her left hand sitting atop her belly.

With a huge rock on her ring finger. "Welcome to Hana's! Have a seat anywhere, we'll be right with you!" Her voice is just as warm as ever, and you find yourself forcing your feet to move, ducking your head as you head towards the back of the restaurant. You see Mingyu lean over to grab a bottle off the wall, and you slide into one of the booths where you're out of sight but they're not.

You can hear them start to talk about you, Mingyu pouring Wonwoo a beer and sliding it across the bar.

"Has Y/N spoken to either of you?" Tzuyu asks, and Wonwoo clicks his tongue.

"Yeah, she called me earlier. It was a little odd, considering we always call her. But it's her birthday, I'm not going to badger her for answers. Plus, she's on vacation for once. Can't complain." He shrugs, and Mingyu laughs softly.

"Vacation? Where? Did she say?" "I didn't ask." Wonwoo replies, and Tzuyu snorts. "You'd be a horrible spy, Jeon. Here, I'm going to call her. She's gotten better at answering."  You watch Tzuyu grab her phone off the table, and quickly lower your ringer as far as it will go. She faces the phone towards all of them, and Wonwoo looks unamused as you feel your phone start vibrating in your hand. 

You deny the call, quickly texting her that you're driving to dinner and will call her when you get to the restaurant. A lie, and you can see her frown sadly next to Wonwoo. She puts her phone down, sliding off the bar stool – likely on her way to you.

"Gonna take this order, I'll be right back." She grabs the notepad off the bar, but the ringing of the doorbell grabs her attention. A delivery man with a huge bouquet of flowers slips in, holding the baby blue gift card in his hand.

"For Jeon Wonwoo? Is there a Jeon Wonwoo here?" Wonwoo's eyes go wide, before he clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. That's me, thank you. Does it say who they're from?" The delivery man hands him the card, bidding everyone a good night.

"Well?" Mingyu leans over as Wonwoo puts the flowers down on the bar and flips the card open. His eyes dart back and forth as he reads it, before handing it to Mingyu, who reads it out loud while Wonwoo thumbs the petals.

To Wonwoo,

Thank you for always being someone I can count on, even when I'm halfway across the world. Thank you for looking out for me, and for loving me more than you let on.

Always yours, Y/N.

P.S. Don't forget to call me back!

"Huh." Mingyu clicks his tongue, and Tzuyu grabs the card and scans it. She sighs, holding it to her chest.

"Camellias…" Wonwoo pouts, before his eyes narrow. "They're her favorite. It's like she's trying to tell me something." "Okay, mind reader. What could she possibly have to say that isn't already in the card?" Tzuyu waves it around, and you take it as your chance to slide out of the booth, hands in your pockets. You walk towards them quietly as Mingyu and Tzuyu begin to theorize, and neither of them look your way as you slide into the barstool diagonal to Wonwoo's.

"She probably wants to know what a girl's gotta do to get some service around here." You mumble, and Tzuyu flushes, about to apologize when you carefully slip your mask off.

"But I guess you can treat me, since it is my birthday." You shrug, Mingyu's eyes widening before he covers his face and sinks to the ground behind the bar. Tzuyu scoffs out a laugh, her eyes filling with tears as she pulls your hood off your head, her hands smoothing your hair down gently.

"You're home." She whispers, her belly getting in the way as she pulls you into her. You feel your eyes burn with tears as she buries her face in your hair, your hand moving to pat her back. "I am, I missed you guys." You murmur, and Mingyu hops over the bar to also crush you in his embrace. You can barely see out of your teary eyes, but you can see Wonwoo's cheeks flushed almost as pink as the flowers, the shock in his demeanor evident but he just clears his throat and looks away.

"How long are you here for? A week? A month? Please say a month, you have to meet our kids." Mingyu begs into your hair, and you can barely conjure words as Wonwoo stays silent. "Shit, I'll even buy you a new ticket back to New York if you stay for two months." You don't respond, waiting for the couple to pull away. You wiggle lightly, making them both move back as you wipe your eyes. "I'm here for good. I have a new place in Gangnam, and I'm opening a shop a few blocks from here. I'm…I'm sorry I didn't tell any of you guys." You gesture towards Wonwoo as well, who only tongues his cheek before running the tips of his fingers around the rim of his beer. He nods, "Yeah. Welcome home, sweetheart." "You're not even going to hug me? Some friend you are." You try to joke, and Wonwoo scoffs,before reluctantly sliding off his stool. Tzuyu says something about getting you dinner, skirting out of the way. It seems Mingyu also gets the hint, moving away with the promise of a nice beer.

You're overwhelmed by the same patchouli scent on Wonwoo’s clothes, sweetened with notes of peach as he wraps his arms around your waist. Your own wrap around his shoulders, and you can feel your heart thundering in your chest as he breathes you in softly. He nestles his head next to yours, and his breath is warm against your ear as he speaks.

"I've missed you so much, Y/N." He mumbles, and you feel his arms tighten slightly, as if you're going to slip away. "We need to have a serious conversation, though, because I am mad at you."

You scoff slightly, trying to hide your tears as you bury your face in his neck. He rubs your back gently, before pulling away and wiping your eyes carefully. "Later." You only nod, watching Tzuyu carefully walk over with a bowl of hot tofu stew, and Mingyu slides a pint glass across the bar for you.

You spend the next three hours consoling an emotional Tzuyu, and telling Mingyu all about the delicious dishes you tried in New York. He jests that the restaurant would love a pastry chef if you're willing to share your recipes, and you only snort and turn him down softly. You tell them all about Euijoo, only earning scoffs and huffs from the couple as Wonwoo nurses his beer silently. 

You tell them about your shop in Harlem, and how it was actually a call with Wonwoo last year that made you realize that you were unhappy – which made his cheeks flush, but he remained quiet, only nodding along. Tzuyu squeezes his shoulder, and he just nibbles on his lip as you keep talking about all the regulars you had. You tell them about your SoHo apartment and how you often visited the Seaglass Carousel if you were feeling stressed. You promised to take them there someday, if they ever wanted to see what your life was like when you were gone.

They fill you in about their own lives – planning their wedding, having their second daughter in a few weeks. They talk about their oldest, Eunha, and how she's growing up to be just like Mingyu. You hold back tears as they eagerly talk about their budding family and their beautiful relationship, often sharing looks full of adoration and admiration for one another as they spoke. You listen carefully, and Tzuyu even asks if, since you're back, you'd like to be a bridesmaid.

You agree, when Mingyu finally brings out a thick slice of his infamous chocolate cake – one that actually got you into baking but you'd never admit it. At least, not to him.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N! We're so glad you're home, seriously. It's been so dull without you." Tzuyu cheers, allowing Mingyu to light the pink candle in the middle of the slice. You smile softly, tucking your hair behind your ears as they sing to you softly – Wonwoo mouthing along from his stool.

"Make a wish." Mingyu holds it up to you, and you can't help but realize that he's a father now. Tzuyu is a mother, and they have their whole lives figured out. They're so gentle, loving, passionate…and you're still trying to figure yourself out.

Ah, but comparison is the thief of joy.

You close your eyes, sighing before conjuring your wish in your mind. 

You don't notice when Wonwoo takes a quick photo, the flash hidden by Tzuyu's shoulder.

You blow out the candle quietly, opening your eyes to see the couple clapping softly. Tapping the plate, you clear your throat.

"Can I get this in a box? I have some things I need to sort out before the night ends."

Mingyu and Tzuyu share a look, before she glances over her shoulder. You nod as she looks back at you, and she smiles.

"Well, we'll see you more often, right? You have to meet Eunha, and the baby." 

"Absolutely." And you mean it. You mean it as Mingyu boxes up your slice of cake, sealing it into a brown paper bag for you. You inch closer and closer to Wonwoo as the goodbyes become extensive, before splaying your hand across his back. He glances over his shoulder, a jump in his brows as if to say, ready to go?

You bid Mingyu and Tzuyu a good night, and you promise them you'll even try to come by in the morning for Mingyu's mother's oxtail soup. Mingyu says he can't promise there will be any up by the time you come by, but you make Tzuyu promise to save you a bowl. She does.

"When did you sell the shop?" Wonwoo asks as the two of you step out into the street, the cold air making his breath visible as he speaks. "And why didn't you tell me?" You look at the flowers in his arms, how he holds them like a baby.

"I was worried you'd be upset that I gave up." You murmur as the two of you begin to walk seemingly with no direction, earning a sigh from Wonwoo.

“I’m upset that you didn’t even think to tell me anything. I’m supposed to be your friend. One of your best friends, if I’m not mistaken. You move across the world and suddenly that doesn’t matter anymore?”

“Wonwoo, it’s not like that. I just…I should know what I want out of life. I should know where my heart calls home, but it’s only been a person. I’m not sure if the place matters.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair as Wonwoo flags down a taxi.

“Your place or mine?” He mutters, opening the door for you to slide in.

“Yours.” You mumble back, giving the driver a quick smile as Wonwoo shuts the door. He rattles off his address — and it’s the same building as yours.

“…I live there, too.” You whisper, and he clicks his tongue.

“Good to know.” He shrugs, before reaching over and tugging your seat belt on. He clicks in place, choosing to stay silent as the taxi weaves through the busy roads. You want to say something, and you attempt to several times — but he just shakes his head, pressing a finger to his lips as if to say wait.

And wait, you did.

You let him pay the taxi driver and help you out of the taxi. You let him lead you into the lobby, the security guard giving the both of you a curt nod as you duck into the elevator.

Wonwoo only lives a few doors down from you.

“Interesting.” You murmur to yourself. It’s like I’ll always find my way back to you.

He unlocked his door, holding it open for you to slip through. You did, silently toeing your shoes off in his foyer before stepping into his living room. Shrugging your coat off, you watch him flick the lights on.

Everything is so him. From stacked consoles on the side of his television, to a bookcase full of acoustic guitar records and a few thick books. A few of his cameras are strewn on his kitchen table, popped open and film exposed. His record player sits in front of his window, the blinds and curtains pushed open and the window slightly ajar to circulate the air. There is a mug on his coffee table, half full of what you assume to be green tea.

It smells like patchouli, peaches, and home.

His hand takes the bag from you, and he walks past you to place the flowers and the cake on his kitchen counter. He closes his eyes as he tugs his coat off, and you avert your eyes from his form-fitting shirt — opting to turn around and hang your coat on the rack by the door.

“Are you actually here for good? Or was that just something you said to appease Mingyu and Tzuyu?” He mutters, thumbing at the petals of the flowers once more. You sigh, crossing your arms as you sidle up next to him. Your hip bumps his as you lean on the counter, and his eyes avoid yours as you look up at him.

His shoulders are tense.

“I’m here for good, Wonwoo. I missed it here, I missed Mingyu and Tzuyu and I missed my parents.”

“What about me? Did you miss me?” 

His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear it, and you purposely bump your hip to his to garner his attention.

“Of course I missed you.” You whisper, a smile twitching at your lips as he nibbles on his lip.

“Then why didn’t you visit? Why did it take you six months to call me when you first moved? Why…Why did you date Euijoo?”

You feel your chest ache at his questions, the furrow in his brows making you push off the counter, straightening. Sighing, you rest your head on his bicep, the muscle tensing beneath your cheek.

“Sometimes we do things to fill a void, you know? Sometimes we hide from the things we know could be good for us, and look for something we think could be enough, so we won’t ruin or sully what we have already.” You shrug, and he looks down at you again.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I wish I would’ve realized how you felt about me before I left. I mean, I would’ve still gone but I would’ve visited more. I would’ve come back often, tried to make it work. I’m sorry.”

You peer up at him through your lashes, and he just shakes his head.

“My feelings here don’t matter, I’m talking about you.”

“You are a huge part of me, of my life.” You remind him, your hand ghosting over the small of his back as he huffs.

“So you abandoned your life in New York, your dream, for me?” Wonwoo sounds almost offended, and you scoff.

“I abandoned my life in New York because I missed home. I missed my parents, my friends. I miss talking to my friends when we’re all staying up late, not just when I am and I have to go to bed when the gab gets good. I…I missed walking around in the middle of the night with you, and getting heartburn from eating spicy noodles at two in the morning. Can’t I miss home, Wonwoo?”

He clicks his tongue, tapping his fingers on the counter. “I guess you can. But you said home for you is not a place, but a person.” 

“I did say that.”

He doesn’t say anything, picking at his nails silently before sighing.

“Did Hansol tell you about the flowers?” He murmurs, and you nod.

“You could’ve talked to me, especially between boyfriends. You had lots of chances, Seungcheol literally aired you out.” You say pointedly, and he rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t believe him, and I wasn’t going to ruin our friendship because I was feeling something you weren't.”

“And how do you know that I wasn’t?” You raise a brow, and he scoffs. He shoves his hands in his pockets, moving out of the kitchen to go sit on his couch. He leans his head against the wall, closing his eyes as you make your way over and perch on the edge of his mahogany coffee table.

“I’m sorry I missed your birthday dinner that one year. I thought if I missed one, it’d be easier to start getting used to not seeing you. I was fully committed to getting over you, to moving on, even if I wasn’t happy with…fuck, I forgot her name.”

“Jaehee.”

“With Jaehee.” He ran his hand over his face, and you sigh.

“That was ages ago, Wonwoo. We move on.” You pat his knee, and he lifts his head to face you. His cheeks are slightly flushed as he takes a breath.

“I don’t want to move on, that’s the problem. You think I haven’t tried? Do you know how many relationships I’ve been in since you’ve left?”

“Mmh, I don’t. Do tell.” You nod, inching slightly closer, resting your elbows on your knees and clasping your hands together. He doesn’t look amused, running an exasperated hand through his hair and closing his eyes.

“I look for you everywhere, and I’ve never even had you. I can’t help but compare every single woman I’ve ever been with to you, Y/N. It’s driving me fucking insane, being in love with you.”

He’s hiding his face in his hands, and you feel your chest grow hot as you hum in response. You shift slightly, your knees bumping his and making him sigh.

“I mean, for years it's been like we're in this odd mesh of limerence and denial. You do something that makes me think, oh, maybe she's into me? You'd seek me out for comfort, for help, for whatever, and I was there. I am there, like an idiot, hoping you'll just get it. Then you date people who are in proximity to me – my best friend, my team captain, the secretary of my AV club. Then you leave. You left, Y/N." 

"I know." You can't recognize the thickness in the back of your throat, the way you swallow around it as he fiddles with one of his rings. "You didn't even come say goodbye, Wonwoo. Hansol ripped my heart out and handed it to me, because of you, and you weren't even there." "I didn't want to see you cry." He mumbles, and you only shake your head.

"You've seen me cry, you've seen me laugh. You've been the reason behind the tears and the laughter. You've seen me in all these weird spots in my life, you watched me date all these men. You were most of the reason as to why these men broke up with me. Yet, you never once thought that I was looking for you?" "Why would I ever give myself that much importance?" He scoffs, and you shrug. "Maybe because I give you that much importance, Wonwoo."

He sighs shakily, leaning back on the couch cushions and swallowing hard. "Did you know I got a few collections displayed in a museum after you left? Your parents went, did they send you photos?"

"Some. I liked the one of Tzuyu and Mingyu in the flower fields." He got up, skirting around your knees and walking up to the bookcase next to his TV. He scours the leather bound books, before a soft aha! falls from his lips, pulling out a green one. He flips it, and you realize it's a photo album.

He hands it to you, sitting back down on the couch. You open it tentatively, your fingers trembling as the photos come into view. They have that digital camera feel to them, a bit grainy and dated. The first photo was old, you could tell just from the image: it was you and Mingyu, sitting around a bonfire at a waterfall you would hang out at during the warmer months, one that went into a lake lined with boulders. You were dating here, and your nose had melted marshmallow swiped across it while Mingyu grinned in the corner of the photo.

"This is an old photo, Wonwoo." "They're all old, you haven't been around." He retorts, before flipping the page.

Another photo of you smiling as you laid out on the flat boulder by the edge of the lake, another of you on the handlebars of Mingyu's bike – you remember that one, it was Mingyu's seventeenth birthday. Another of you with Tzuyu solving a puzzle during one of Mingyu's visits, you and Hansol sharing a cup of lemonade during a snack run after one of Wonwoo's soccer games, you and Seungcheol swinging on a hammock in the park – where you often bumped into Wonwoo taking photos of birds, flowers, life.

There was photo after photo of you, in every moment of your life. There was a photo of the pink camellias he'd gotten for you, there was a photo of his student apartment packed up but one of your cardigans, bright red, stark against the cardboard boxes. This album, full of memories of you through his eyes – without a singular glimpse of Wonwoo, until the last photo.

It wasn't like the other photos – this was high definition, and you remember this photo being taken. You were wearing a pink t-shirt that had belonged to Wonwoo, and a necklace that Wonwoo had given to you for one of your birthdays. You were sitting on his couch, surrounded by Mingyu and Tzuyu. You had a bag of honey mustard pretzels that Wonwoo bought you in your lap, your smile shy and your fingers holding a napkin.

It was the day you finally told them you'd be leaving, just moments before.

And you remember how quietly he'd put his camera away after that, and your friends had settled uneasily around you. Wonwoo sat on his coffee table, eyes worried but masked with a soft smile – just like you were, now.

The album was empty after that, with only two or three pages left to complete it.

"This was an exhibit I arranged for the museum, but I never submitted it. I called it Hanging By A Moment, because that's what…" He takes a deep breath. "That's what this feels like. I feel like I'm just waiting for the moment to end, and I'm not sure in which direction I would prefer it to happen. Sometimes I would stay awake and wonder why I didn't go visit you, but I knew exactly why." You set the photo album on your lap, giving him a gentle look.

"You didn't want to see something that would break your heart." "I didn't want to see you happy with someone else, somewhere else." His voice is thick, and you move to speak but he shakes his head. 

"I didn't want to go somewhere and see you living so well without me, when I'm in shambles without you. I couldn't sleep most nights the first year that you were gone. I found myself still walking towards your apartment with Hansol. Hell, I've even hung out with Seungcheol, routinely, just to feel the influence of you. The essence of what you are, imprinted in the people you've graced with your presence." He's looking down at his hands, a singular tear rolling down his cheek. You feel like you can't breathe around the lump in your throat, as he glances up.

"I don't think I can handle this anymore. I need you to say nothing is ever going to happen between us, that the moment is over. I need you to end this, because if you don't, I never will."

You can't speak, but it doesn't matter – because he keeps going.

"I'd be perfectly content having you within arm's reach for the rest of my life, as long as you're happy. You could be across the world, hell, across the fucking universe and I'd never stop missing you, or yearning for you, or loving you. Befriending you all those years ago has got to be one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made, because I can't imagine a life without you. But loving you, being in love with you? Y/N, that has got to be the biggest grace I've ever been given by whatever God is out there. Nothing has ever been easier than loving you has been, but it is the most painful thing I've ever experienced. So, please. End this, I'm begging you." Your throat hurts from holding back your tears, a soft sob escaping your lips as you turn away. You let the tears run down your cheeks, using your hand to muffle your cries as he just lets his tears drip onto his jeans. You can see, through blurry eyes, the way he wants to reach for you, the way his hands clenched into fists before he shoves them under his thighs. 

It's silent for a moment, aside from shaky breathing and a few sniffles from Wonwoo. You wipe your eyes carefully, trembling hands gripping the edges of the album as you slide it onto the coffee table next to you. He grabs it, using it as an excuse to stand up and move around – Wonwoo always needed to do that after talking. Like he felt the need to exert all his feelings physically.

You also stand, his rug soft under your socked feet as he slides the album back in place. He doesn't turn back around, his hand lingering on the spine of the album as you round the coffee table. You're right behind him, seeing the buried tension in his back and shoulders as he feels your presence. You clear your throat as best as you can.

"I don't want the moment to end." He doesn't move, and you find yourself stepping in front of him, between the bookcase and his chest. He doesn't look at you, but allows your hands to find home on his chest. You smooth his shirt cautiously, before patting him gently.

He glances down.

"You're my home, Wonwoo." You say softly, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. Your hand moves to his jaw, your thumb gently tracing circles into his cheek. He has a bit of stubble, despite the cool scent of his aftershave. You can't help but let the sacred words slip from your lips as his eyes bore into yours.

"I love you." He looks away, a shaky sob from his lips making your heart ache as you rest your head on his chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you, so used to your physical affection in years past that it's just muscle memory at this point – despite his own reserved affections. You're surrounded by his scent, his warmth, him.

"I know it won't be easy. I've been gone for five years, and I've missed so much of your life. I know my apologies count for near nothing at this point, but you can't sincerely believe that I haven't yearned for you every step of my journey away." You're slightly muffled, feeling the metal of his necklace under his shirt as he holds you closer, tighter. He doesn't reply, so you keep going.

"I love you, Wonwoo. I'm sorry I didn't allow myself to feel it before, and I'm sorry that I've made you wait so long. I'll wait, as long as you need me to. As long as you want me to wait, even if I die waiting–" "I'd wait an eternity for you." He murmurs into your hair, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

"You shouldn't say that, Wonwoo." "But I did, and I will. I'd die waiting for you, if that's what it takes."

You sigh, pressing your forehead to his chest. "Are you still mad at me?" For the first time in years, you hear him laugh softly. Your arms tighten around his waist reflexively, a pout on your lips as you peer up at him. "I missed your laugh." He huffs, cheeks tinging pink as he avoids your gaze, carding his fingers through your hair. "I'm still mad at you. I bet you paid a shit load of money for a cab from the airport, didn't you? You could've just told me to come pick you up. I would've done it." "I wanted to surprise you." "Well…what about your apartment? I didn't even get to recommend this place, you probably went through some real estate guy–" "You're just grappling at things to be mad about, aren't you?" "No. I am mad." He grumbles, his lip jutted out in a pout as you smile up at him.

"You sure? Can't I change your mind, my good sir?" You wiggle your brows, and he scoffs, but you see the twitch of a smile on the corner of his lips. He tongues his cheek as your hands move to his face, making him look down at you. "I'm sorry, Wonwoo." He rolls his eyes, your hands squishing his cheeks together. "Prove it." You quirk a brow, "Prove…what?" "That you love me. Prove it." He shrugs, moving your hands off his face and letting them go at your sides. You scoff, gesturing to the air.

"I'm here, aren't I? Isn't that enough?" You cross your arms, a defiant look crossing your features as he sighs. His fingers are warm as they tuck a stray curl behind your ear, your skin prickling as he thumbs at your earlobe.  "Of course it's enough." He mumbles, "You'll always be enough. More, even. More than enough for me."

You think he mumbles I love you.

Your face grows hot as he scans it, eyes heavy with purpose and love. For the first time, you allow yourself to realize how nervous Wonwoo makes you – your heart racing in your chest as you lean closer to him. He doesn't back away, his hand now gently holding your jaw. His thumb rests on the corner of your lip, the weight so comforting. "Kiss me." You do just that, your lips crashing into his as he steadies your body. Your hands fist his shirt as he kisses you slowly, walking you back into the bookshelf. Your back hits it gently, his hands cupping your face softly as he pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed as your fingers circled his wrists. "I missed you so much, sweetheart." "I missed you too, Wonwoo."

He struggles to bite back his smile, your lips pressing a chaste kiss to his before peppering them all over his face. "You can't stay mad at me forever, you know." You speak through kisses, his nose scrunching as you press your lips to it.

"I can certainly try. You know I can hold a mean grudge." "Mingyu ate your leftovers once, Wonwoo. He literally cooked for you everyday of college, you need to let it go." "You're taking his side? Some friend you are." He scoffs, his hands pushing your hair off your shoulders. You wrap your arms around his waist, your chin in the center of his chest as you pout up at him.

"I flew all this way, I confessed my love…and I'm your friend?" He tongues his cheek, swallowing his laughter as he shakes his head. "Well, no. A friend wouldn't leave me for five years and then suddenly show back up–" "Wonwoo." " –And expect me to just forgive her. You could at least try and get in my good graces." You huff, "So you hate me." "No, no. I'm very much in love with you, actually. However, though love is merciful…I am not as much. You said you'd wait." "Wonwoo–" "Ah, ah. You said you'd wait. So you will." He shrugs, running his hand through your hair. He twirls a piece around his finger, "I know that you know how I feel about you, from other people's minds and mouths. I think it's best if I get to show you, truthfully and openly. Don't you?" You say nothing just yet, choosing to stare up at him with a hint of worry in your eyes. He glances down, the hand in your hair coming to gently hold your jaw. "What if you realize you don't want me?" "Oh, sweetheart. I'd be a fool not to want you. Let the sky fall the day I make that stupid decision."

You sigh, moving to rest your cheek on his chest. He hums, running his fingertips across your scalp. 

"It's not everyday you find a muse in someone the moment you meet them. Don't worry about me ever not wanting you, me ever not needing you." You don't reply, feeling your nose burn as your eyes fill with tears. He pats the back of your head, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Come, I need to take your picture. You need to fill the last few pages of that album."

And, you comply. You let him wipe your tears, pressing kisses to your eyelids as he sits you at his kitchen counter. He pulls out a gold candle from his kitchen drawer, sticking it in the cake slice from the restaurant and lighting it carefully. He pushes your hair back, and pulls the pendant of your necklace out to rest in the middle of your chest.

"Smile, sweetheart." He murmurs behind the camera, and you do. You smile, glossed lips swollen from the kisses, eyes full of stars as you stare at Wonwoo behind the flash. "Make a wish, quickly." You lean forward, closing your eyes when you see another flash behind your lids. Smiling to yourself, you blow the candle out, quickly taking it out of the cake slice. He offers a fork, and you lean on your elbows as he takes out a few bottles of soju.

"What'd you wish for?" He asks, unscrewing one of the lids off the bottles. You smirk around a bite of cake, shaking your head as he turns away to rummage for shot glasses.

"I'm not telling you, it won't come true." He scoffs, pulling out a set of shot glasses you'd given him during college. They have Snoopy and Woodstock doodled on the sides – he was always Woodstock, you were Snoopy.

"Oh, come on. Tell me, I'll make it come true." "What are you, a magician? Tell me what else I missed while I was gone." He rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his lower lip as he slides the Snoopy glass over, filled to the brim with fresh soju. You take it carefully, and he raises a brow.

"Tell me your wish, Y/N." You huff, before reaching over to cheers your glass with his. You both knock back the liquor, and you scrunch your nose as you slide it back over to him. He fills it again, and you shift in your chair.

"If I tell you, you'll have to do it." "Stop being so ominous, I hate it when you do that."

He slides the glass back over, only half full as he sidles up next to you. Your hand instinctively wraps around his bicep, and you rest your cheek on his shoulder.

"Promise me you'll make it come true, Wonwoo." "I promise. It's your birthday, sweetheart. I'd bring down the stars if you asked."

– SIX WEEKS LATER: GOYANGI'S HOME, SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Wonwoo had done exactly as you asked on your birthday – he kept his word, and tried his best to make your birthday wishes come true. Granted, you underestimated him: he would get both done within the six weeks it took to get your shop open.

After the two of you finished off the thick slice of chocolate cake, Wonwoo asked you to spend the night. You did, and a part of you held back tears as he held you in his arms – mumbling in his sleep. Mumbling about how he loved you, how long he'd waited…

How scared he was you'd slip away, like sand in an hourglass timer.

You'd spent the last month and a half glued at the hip. He took you to visit your parents early in the mornings, who bawled uncontrollably and demanded you'd stay all day. Wonwoo hadn't minded, and he stayed with you for dinner several times – and took many odd photos. He never showed you any of them, but he couldn't let you out of his sight, either.

He accompanied you to all your furniture shopping for the shop, he helped choose the paint, he even went as far as taking your website photos. Which, of course, included photos of you – in the kitchen, in your uniform, making a mess of flour and powdered sugar.

Powdered sugar that he kissed off your lips.

Because neither of you could go more than an hour without seeing each other, you practically moved into his apartment. You were spending almost every night there despite your own bed calling your name like a child does its mother. Wonwoo hadn't been kidding about making you wait, either. He let you kiss him, he told you he loved you, yes – but the dates were casual outings. Dinner, picnics, movies. You had a few game nights, and even went over to Hana's for drinks. You'd decided you were each other's plus ones for Mingyu and Tzuyu's wedding, and submitted such information on your RSVP placards.

You spent time together in copious amounts, something you couldn't ever find a fill of. You made him pastry after pastry, coffee cup after coffee cup, back massage after back massage to ease the tension in his shoulders. He gave you a silver necklace, a small letter W hanging from the center. 

You wore it with pride. He didn't ask you to be his girlfriend, and he didn't let you ask any questions about it, either.

Instead, he made your birthday wishes come true – he asked the Museum of Arts if they still needed an exhibit for the season. When they said yes, he submitted his Hanging by a Moment gallery – with a few new additions. You'd loved it, and had proudly gone to the museum at least twice a week to see it.

Now?

You're both standing in your unopened shop, showing your parents everything. The walls are a muted terracotta with a few tangerine accents, to match the feel of the digital photos of your life through Wonwoo's eyes. You asked him to make copies of the photos for you as well, framing them in thick, gold frames.

All but one, that sat in the middle of them all on the wall. "And this is the final installment." He spoke to your parents softly, before gesturing to a photo split in the middle. One half was you, dressed in all black with the silver necklace he'd given you three weeks ago, and holding Wonwoo's digital camera up to your face. Your smile was peeking out from behind your hand, directed right at him.

And the other half was him. The only photo of him in the entire exhibit – of him holding his digital camera vertically against his face, slightly messy hair and a beige t-shirt that was two sizes too big for him but you loved anyway. You'd taken this photo at a street food stand, and he remembers how softly you kissed his cheek right after.

You stood next to him with a soft smile on your face as your father perused the photos, his eyes watery as he looked at the ones of you in college. Your smile, so young and carefree. Your eyes, full of the same shimmer and light you have now – but now, it's brighter. You seem lighter.

Happier.

You seem like you're home.

"What do you think?" You ask gently, wrapping your hand around Wonwoo's arm. He instinctively covers your hand with his, and your father nods.

"I think you're in love." He shrugs, and Wonwoo's cheeks flush almost instantly. You chuckle, squeezing your hand around Wonwoo's arm before patting his chest.

"I've got some new pastries in the oven, shall we? I'm trying a new recipe." You wiggle your brows at your parents, who both smile as you extend your hands to them. They take them gingerly, letting you guide them into the kitchen. You look over your shoulder, sending Wonwoo a quick wink as you slip inside with them.

And, Wonwoo knows.

He knows you love him, as he stands in this shop – named for him, by you. Walls covered in you, by him. He knows you love him as you smile warmly at him, your eyes sparkling in a way he'd only ever seen with him – never with Seungcheol, or Hansol, or Mingyu.

Just him.

So, what does it matter? The moment, why does it matter? Why not hang onto it, as long as he can? Why not take in every ounce of your light so long as you allow it, and reflect it right back to you? Why not be a mirror of your love, a beacon of the same hope you hold, a star in the sky that also tells you there is something to wish upon?

Why waste it, when he can savor it – the way you look at him, the way you kiss him, touch him, the way you make him feel? How he's gone absolutely mad just looking at you in the mornings, slowly waking up by his side, burying your face into his bare chest? Why waste the moment when he can capture it – your smiles, your tears, the way you cover your face shyly when he compliments you.

Why not live in the moment – the feeling of your lips against his, the way you claw his shirt off, the way you whimper beneath him while fully clothed and untouched? Why not live in the moment, where he gets to hear you laugh like no one's listening, watch you dance like there is no tomorrow? Why not, when you ask him to take the long way home and roll the windows down, singing along to his playlist and feeling the air whip your hair around until your face is frosty from the wind.

Why not live in this moment – when you're so irrevocably in love with him, and he doesn't have to ever question it because you don't even need to tell him? Where you've related him to a cat that always finds its way back home, where you're supposedly the home and you are – but you are also the cat that finds her way home all on her own?

Why not? "Wonwoo? Are you listening?" "Huh? Sorry." He rubs his neck sheepishly, before noticing he's sitting at the bar of your shop, a dulce de leche éclair sitting on a plate in front of him. Your parents are in the corner, holding their own pastries and analyzing the photos once more. You're leaning your back on the bar next to him, your elbows holding you up as you reach over and gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"I said, I love you." "Now, why does it sound like you're scheming? Tell me what you really said." "It is, promise." You chuckle, your hand coming to pinch his cheek softly. He frowns, only making you coo up at him as you brush your lips to his. He glances up quickly, seeing your parents still enthralled by the photo of you and Mingyu at the waterfalls all those years ago. He looks back down, seeing you absently scanning his face as your thumb continues to rub circles into his face.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, before your father turns around and clears his throat. You look over your shoulder lazily, and your father has the pastry plates in his hand. "Your mother and I are going to start heading out now, honey. We've got a long drive back, and I'm sure you want to clean up a bit around here before your big opening tomorrow." "You're right, Dad. Thank you for coming, I'm glad you two could be the first to see it." Your voice is so warm, he can feel all the stress from his days just melting right off him as you walk your parents to the front. He follows suit, lingering behind as you and your parents say your goodbyes. He interjects his own, enveloping both of your parents in a hug before pulling away. You both wave as they get into their car, your mother waving back as they pull into the street and all the way down the road, before their car turns out of sight.

You turn around, your arms crossed as you look up.

"Goyangi's Home. What a name, isn't it?" You sigh, before glancing over at Wonwoo. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your giggle is like music to his ears as your hands rest on his chest, your lip tucked beneath your teeth as you look up at him.

"Well, you're home, aren't you?" "Aren't you, Wonwoo?"

"I am. I love you, you know."

He feels his chest ache in the best way possible, his heart beating twice as fast as you wrinkle your nose at him.

"I know. I love you, honey." So it's fine. It's fine, as Wonwoo lets you kiss his lips once, twice, three times before you slip back into the shop. It's fine, as Wonwoo walks in behind you, his fingers locking the front door so no one mistakes the shop as open. It's fine, as you hand him a broom and make him sweep the shop while you roll out the dough in the back, your hands coated in flour when he comes to steal a kiss.

Or two, or three – until you're pushed against the industrial fridge, his hands wrapped around your thighs as yours tangle in his hair. He doesn't care about the flour. He doesn't care that you'll both be here late to roll out the stupid dough, he doesn't care as long as you're with him.

He doesn't care about the time differences anymore. The kilometers of distance, the aches of missing you. He doesn't care, and he'd do it ten times over just to be worthy of you. 

He doesn't care about how pathetic he might sound as he kisses down your neck, begging you to be his girlfriend, begging you to never, ever leave him again.

He doesn't care about all the painful moments he used to hang onto, because you are the best moment to ever capture.

He cares when you promise that you'll never leave him again, your lips soft against the shell of his ear. He cares when you say yes, you'll be his girlfriend. You'll be anything he wants, for as long as he wants it. So yeah, he'll live in this moment. He'll keep it, hold it, cherish it forever as more whispers float off your lips to one another. I love you.

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[ttalgi]

missent letters pt.2

wanderer x gn! reader

part 1 || part 2

tags/cw: academic rivals to lovers, some cursing, mc is: a Vahumana student in the Akademiya, roommates with Alhaitham and Kaveh, and a pyro vision holder.

a/n: I finally finished the book a year later (lol) which made me want to make a part 2! Also, please don't mind any ooc or wrong plot details...it's been a while since I've actually played genshin.

wc: 2.1k

“It would do your remaining few brain cells some good to stop banging your head against the table. Plus this table was expensive. I can’t have the wood scratched already.”

You stop mid head bang to send Alhaitham an incredulous look. “Please!” you plead. “Have some sympathy for me at least once in your life. My life is over.” You slump your body across the living room bench.

Without missing a beat, he replies, ”I let you live here, don’t I?” Alhaitham turns to Kaveh with a raised eyebrow, “Care to fill me in on their latest tantrum?”

“It’s not a tantrum—!”

“Long story short, they asked me to send out some envelopes for them because of their busy schedule, so I told them to leave whatever they needed sent on top of their desk. Among the envelopes was one for Hat Guy, which apparently they didn’t want me to deliver.” He takes another bite of the shawarma wrap that Alhaitham brought home for dinner. 

Kaveh turns to look at your defeated form. “If you didn’t mean to send Hat Guy the letters, why were they mixed up with the other envelopes in the first place? What’s the big deal about those letters anyway?” he asks while chewing.

You perk up your head to look at him. “Huh? You didn’t read them?” you ask.

“You see, unlike some”—he sends Alhaitham a pointed look—”people, I have basic human decency.”

“Again, I let you guys live here—”

“Basically, everytime I feel anger or annoyance towards him, I just vent about it on paper pretending that he’s the recipient. Then I just stuff everything in the same envelope because it’s easy storage that way.”

“Wait!” Kaveh interrupts. “Just how many letters have you written about him? That envelope was like an inch thick. It even cost me extra postage!”

“...What can I say? I have lots of vendettas against him,” you shrug.

Alhaitham interposes, “I don’t think I understand. What’s the big deal? So what if you told him exactly how you feel about him? I didn’t take you for being a people pleaser.”

“This is why people think you’re such a machine at times, Alhaitham!” Kaveh throws his arms up in frustration. “Some people actually care about how they present themselves to others.”

“Actually!” You interject before another one of their infamous arguments breaks out full throttle. “Alhaitham’s kind of right. I did write exactly how I feel about him, and that’s the thing. I wrote everything that I felt about him..” you trail off.

Kaveh lets out a dramatic gasp. “No way! You finally confessed your feelings for him in those letters?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it confessing. I just talked about how I think his eyes are kinda dreamy despite being cold at times and that he has a really pretty face and that”—you almost give yourself whiplash turning in his direction—”Wait, finally? What do you mean finally? There’s no way you could have known about my minuscule crush on Hat Guy!”

“Anyone with eyes and ears could tell that you have some romantic attraction towards him,” Kaveh sighs while shaking his head before gesturing to Alhaitham. “Even this guy is aware of it.”

“You two do know that I’m not socially inept, correct?”

Deciding to ignore Alhaitham, you slump back against the bench. “I’m doomed.”

You pop up with an idea. “Wait! Do you guys think Tighnari needs any more forest rangers? I can take a break until this whole thing tides over and just help him over at Avidya Forest—”

Alhaitham quenched your wishful thinking. “Knowing how substandard you are with your vision, you’d accidentally set the forest on fire.”

You stumble back as if an arrow pierced through your body. You mumble out, “Must you always humble me.” You turn to Kaveh with hopeful eyes.

“I thought I'd never say this, but I agree with Alhaitham. You trying to help Tighnari in the forest would do more harm than good. Plus, you'd end up a victim to his lectures again. Remember that one time you—”

Feeling your body riddling with piercing wounds, you slump against the bench once more. “Yeah, I’m doomed.” 

//

It's been five days since Kaveh accidentally sent out the envelope meant for Hat Guy and you aren’t sure how much longer you have until the letters would be in his possession. Unless they already were... 

If you were blessed by the Archons, then maybe the envelope was lost or better yet damaged beyond repair in delivery, but alas, you know better. The mail system in Sumeru City is known for its attentiveness, especially since many important Akademiya-based deliveries are sent and received daily.

You haven't seen Hat Guy around much these days, especially considering the fact that you’ve been actively avoiding him. Mandatory lectures that you both share? You now sit close to the exit, far from him. The library that you guys are known to basically reside in? You begged Alhaitham to let you study in his office instead, promising that you’d do his portion of the house chores for the next two weeks.

Deciding to go home early out of your own volition (Alhaitham kicked you out because of an important meeting), you carefully tread the halls of the Akademiya making sure to peek around each corner before continuing. As you start to believe that you're finally in the clear, you hear someone behind you clearing their throat. Taking a look down at the shadows decorating the floor, you see the silhouette of the man that you have been avoiding for your own peace of mind.

"How much longer are you going to rat around the Akademiya for? It's not like you can avoid me forever, you know."

Feeling offended by his choice of words, you abruptly turn around to tell him off; however, the sudden close proximity of your faces has you taking a step back. If you hadn’t been paying attention to his face, you would have thought that he was unaffected by the action, but the slight widening of his eyes before returning back to normal has you knowing otherwise.

You give Hat Guy a pointed glare. Wanting to defend yourself against his statement, you open your mouth to retaliate but the sight of the familiar envelope in his hand causes you to simply shut your mouth and grimace instead. 

As he notices your actions, Hat Guy lets an annoying smirk grace his face. "Come on, say what you were going to say. We both know that you have a lot to say to me," he says while lazily waving the envelope around.

To try and play this in your favor, you start to act nonchalant. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘avoiding you’. Also, what’s with the envelope? Never seen it before in my life.”

Hat Guy raises a brow. “What’s with this sudden stupid, chill guy persona? Anyways, it seems like you need a reminder. Not surprising considering our perspective rankings,” he subtly gloats.

“You little—”

”Let's see,”—he opens up the envelope and starts to smooth out the bottommost letter—”Maybe reading some of these letters will help jog your memory.” He makes a grand gesture of pretending to clear his throat before reading, and you can’t help but to cover your face with your hands to try and protect yourself from the upcoming embarrassing retelling.

“Again! Again, you received a higher score on an assigned research essay. It’s only been 2 months and 11 days since you’ve been enrolled into the Vahumana Darshan, so how is it that you’re the apparent “All-Knowing” about Time-Sensitive Commodities? Who do you think you are? The new Sumeru archon of wisdom? Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t be disrespecting our Lesser Lord Kusanali by comparing you to her—” he pauses and his eyes hurriedly shift to gauge your reaction. If anything, he should be thankful. If you hadn’t been so focused on not looking at him, you would have seen the crease in his brows mid-reading.

Hat Guy recomposes himself before continuing to read. “For Archon's sake. What’s more frustrating is your subtle boasting towards me. How could such a shitty personality even emit from a pretty face like yours? Though, I’ll begrudgingly admit that I actually look forward to these interactions that I have with you.”

“ST—!”

A coy smirk fills his face. “Oh? Why so embarrassed? Do you know these letters after all?”

“N-no…I was just clearing my throat.” At this point, you curse your pride for not being able to halt this interaction.

“Stubborn as always.”

This time he picks out a letter from the top of the stack..

“It's completely and utterly unfair how your resting face looks so serene. Why must you always be in the library at the same time as I? Your stupidly, bewitching face only serves as a major distraction, like how could I not stare! It's like your face was personally carved by a god. Also, how the hell do you make a simple fountain pen look so good? The way that your slender fingers grip the—”

“OK, that’s enough! Stop with the reciting! I admit it!” You feel your face heat up from embarrassment and your pyro vision only makes everything feel hotter. You raise your hands in frustration. “It was a whole mixup! Those letters weren’t even meant to be sent to you.” You dial back your volume towards the end.

He pointedly sighs. “Well that much I figured out. There’s no chance in Teyvat where you of all people would willingly subject themself to this. So, what are you going to do about it now?” he asks while crossing his arms.

It hurts to admit, but you felt stupid at this very second. “What do you mean?”

He tskd. “Do I need to explain every little thing to you? You’re ranked right below me, so I know that you’re not stupid. Are you going to own up to your letters and finally confess? Or are you going to just cowardly dismiss this like you’ve been doing?”

“CONFESS?” You almost give yourself whiplash from how fast you check to see if anyone’s heard you. You repeat yourself in a whispering tone. “Confess?”

“You talk about ‘looking forwards’ to our interactions, staring at my ‘bewitching face’ and ‘slender fingers’ and you think it’s absurd that I bring up confessing? Or would it be easier for you if I confess first?”

Without thinking you blurt out, “There’s no way that you actually like me back.”

“Do you ever see me bothering to interact with anyone as much as I do with you? I even surprised myself when I started to catch feelings for your stubborn self.”

You try to shake off the nerves before staring into his eyes. “Hat Guy, I like—”

“Wanderer.”

"What?"

"Call me Wanderer instead; it rolls off the tongue easier than Hat Guy. It’s a nickname that the traveler gave me. Hat Guy is a silly name that happened to stick around the Akademiya.”

“Lots of names you have there, huh?” you tease.

He lets out a sound that’s the mix between a chuckle and a scoff. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Well, Wanderer. I like you. So…will you go out with me?”

“Obviously.” (Your eye roll at his matter-of-fact tone is instinctual) “I wouldn’t waste my time with anybody else. Anyways, let’s get out of here. You were on your way home before I caught you, weren't you?”

Your lips start to raise into a smile. “You’re going to walk me home?”

“Noo, I’m saying this so I can just go off on my own—”

“Oh, shut it. Let’s get out of here.”

As the both of you guys stroll out of the Akademiya, your hand closest to Wanderer suddenly can’t stop twitching every so often. Your head fills with thought pertaining to your new found relationship. 

‘Is it too early to be holding hands?…Maybe hand holding is too PDA for him on open streets—’

A cold hand suddenly embracing yours breaks you out of your stupor. You turn to Wanderer, clearly surprised by the action. Starting to feel embarrassed, you try to pry your hand out of his clutch, only for him to tighten his grip. “W-What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” He pivots his head to the opposite side, hoping that you won’t catch his ears turning slightly pink. “Your thoughts are so loud that even Mondstadt can hear them,” he scoffs. “Just lead the way.”

You start to walk with a slight pep in your step. “As you say!”

bonus scene?:

“Hey, can I give you a nickname too? Or is it too soon..”

He turns with a raised eyebrow. “Depends. What do you have in mind?”

“XxAssMaster69xX”

He lets out the biggest sigh. “Not you too.”

“Jokes, jokes—” you pause. “Wait, me too?”

He continues to walk forwards without you.

“Me too?! Hello???”

[promptedwordsmith]

about a week ago an ai website suggested Rafayel as a character for me to interact with. so now i am obsessed with him.

Writing prompt: Female lead character is someone that Rafayel rescued from drowning, ten years prior, and they both never thought they would see the other again until he ended up working with her and they talk to pass the time while hunting and she mentions, "i was rescued from browning by a boy from the sea and he kissed me before he disappeared and I fainted."

OK so the +5k story that was my longest before? Absolutely smashed it with 7.3k I messed with the circumstances a bit sorry, if that doesn't match what you wanted but it felt a bit more natural this way.

The waves were higher than usual, the wind a little stronger. You hadn’t meant to get caught, not really. You’d always felt a special connection to the sea, but the sea didn’t always care. It was just doing what it did best—pushing, pulling, twisting. One moment, you were wading in the water, feeling its cool embrace; the next, it had you.

You kicked, flailed, and tried to keep your head above the surface, but the waves were too strong. They dragged you down, swirling around you, taking the air from your lungs, until the world around you was dark and heavy, and the last thing you saw was the faint glimmer of light far above.

Then, everything went black.

You woke up to a soft sound, like water lapping against rocks. Your head throbbed, and your throat was tight and sore. You blinked, struggling to focus, feeling the coolness of the air around you. When you tried to sit up, your legs felt like jelly, weak and trembling.

There was someone near you. You didn’t hear them at first, but when you finally turned your head, you froze.

A boy? No, not a boy. He looked… wrong in a way you couldn’t place. His skin was a pale bluish-grey, shining like the ocean’s surface on a moonlit night. His hair was long and dark, dripping with seawater, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—were wide and full of curiosity. He was sitting in the water, half-submerged, but it was the way his body shimmered that had you staring in awe. He had a tail. A tail that shimmered with iridescent blues and silvers like a fish.

He didn’t seem to be staring at you in the same way that you were staring at him. He was watching you closely, his head tilted to the side like a curious animal. His lips parted, and he looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just kept staring at you.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out in a dry, hoarse rasp. "W-where am I?"

The boy—merman?—blinked at you and tilted his head the other way, as if trying to understand what you said. "Where?" he repeated, his voice soft and strange, like the sound of waves against rocks.

You blinked, confused. "Yeah, where? Where am I?"

The merman furrowed his brow, looking at you with wide eyes. "Here," he said, pointing to the water around him. "Here. This… my home."

You tried to sit up, feeling the soft sand beneath you, but your limbs were uncooperative. "Home?" You stared at him, unsure if you could trust this stranger. He didn’t look like any person you’d ever seen. "You’re not… human."

The merman seemed even more puzzled by that. "Human?" he repeated, sounding out the unfamiliar word slowly. He looked at his tail, then back at you. "I’m… me."

"You’re not human either," you said, feeling a little silly for even asking. You’d never seen anything like him before. But what was he? He seemed part human, but also... something else. "What are you?"

The merman looked down at his shimmering tail again, then back at you. "I’m... Rafayel," he said, a bit proudly, as if that explained everything. "And I live here. In the water." He flicked his tail, making a ripple in the water, and grinned, as if showing off.

You stared at him for a long moment, your head still spinning from the water and his presence. "I... I don’t get it. You’re not a human, and I’m not… you’re not from around here, are you?"

Rafayel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed as he looked at you curiously. "Not... from here?" he asked, repeating your words. "But... you are? Where did you come from?"

"I came from the land," you said, pointing vaguely to the shore in the distance. "The land where... people live."

He blinked at you, the corners of his mouth curling into a small frown as if he was struggling to process your words. "Land?" He repeated, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was speaking to himself. "I don’t know that word."

It hit you then—Rafayel didn’t know what humans were. He didn’t know what land was. He didn’t know anything about your world. You, on the other hand, had no idea what he was. What kind of creature lived in the water, with a tail like that?

"Are you a fish?" you asked, unsure if that was an insult.

He blinked at you, confused by the question. "Fish? No," he said, shaking his head. "I’m Rafayel." He said it like it was the only answer needed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You frowned at him, still not sure what he meant. "But you live in the water. You have a tail. That’s not normal."

Rafayel’s eyes seemed to sparkle at your words, and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "Not normal? But it’s me."

You didn’t know how to respond to that. You had never met anyone like him, and the more you looked at him, the stranger it seemed. But there was something comforting about him too. Something curious. You didn’t feel afraid, even though you should’ve. He seemed harmless in a way.

"I think I should get back to the shore," you said slowly, still weak from being dragged under by the waves. You attempted to stand, but your legs wobbled beneath you.

Rafayel’s eyes widened, and he quickly swam closer, offering you a hand. "No, no! Stay! Stay with me." His voice sounded almost desperate. "I want to know more about you. Where did you come from? Why are you in the water? I never met someone like you before. You're... different."

You paused, staring at his outstretched hand, and for some reason, you felt like you had to know more about him too. Despite the strangeness, there was a connection, something pulling you to him.

"Okay," you said finally, hesitating, but not quite pulling away. "You’re... Rafayel, right? And I’m—"

You were about to introduce yourself, but Rafayel’s grin widened, and he shook his head.

"I know," he said, as if it were obvious. "You’re different. And I want to learn everything about you."

Rafayel continued to watch you curiously, his head tilted to the side as if trying to figure you out. You had finally managed to sit up, but now he seemed particularly fixated on your legs, or rather, the lack of a tail. His eyes scanned them with an intense interest, studying every small movement you made.

“Why don’t you have a tail?” Rafayel asked, his voice soft with genuine curiosity. His wide eyes blinked rapidly as if he expected you to have an explanation that made sense to him, something he could grasp.

You looked down at your legs, feeling slightly self-conscious. "Well, these are my legs," you explained, struggling to find words that would make sense to someone who had never seen anything like them before. "They're... um, for walking."

Rafayel raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Walking?" He glanced at your legs again, the words still not computing in his mind. "But… why don’t you have a tail, like me? So you can swim and... move faster?"

You smiled awkwardly, trying to explain in a way that would make sense. "Well, we don’t swim like you do," you said, lifting your leg slightly as if it might help him understand. "We—uh—we get around by making tiny little falls... but we don’t fall! We catch ourselves. And we use our feet." You took a small step to demonstrate, your balance wobbling slightly as you caught yourself on the soft sand. "We just walk."

Rafayel’s face scrunched up, trying to picture it. "So you just… fall, but don’t fall?" His voice was full of disbelief. He reached over and poked your feet gently, his fingers lightly brushing against your toes. "Do these help with the little falls? Your feet?"

You blinked in surprise at the sudden attention to your feet, your cheeks flushing a bit. "I think so? I think my parents said they help with balance or something." You paused for a second, thinking about the words you had been told when you were younger. "They said they were for helping me stay steady." You looked down at your toes, wiggling them in the sand as if testing them, then shrugged, unsure if that was the full explanation.

Rafayel leaned in closer, his expression still one of pure wonder, his eyes focused entirely on your feet. "They’re so small, but they help you not fall?" He poked one of your toes again, almost like he was checking if it would do something special. "I thought... I thought you would walk on all fours, like me." He motioned to himself, showing you his tail, a long, shimmering thing, almost as if showing you his method of travel was the most natural thing in the world.

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. "No, no. I don't walk on all fours." You flexed your legs, letting the muscles stretch. "We use our legs for standing and walking, but we don’t really need tails to move." You smiled, enjoying the innocent curiosity in his voice. "Your tail is really amazing, though. Does it help you swim faster?"

Rafayel’s eyes brightened at your question, clearly pleased to talk about himself. "Oh, yes! It’s great for swimming. I can move really fast through the water!" He swished his tail as if demonstrating, the movement smooth and fluid. "I can dive deep, or leap out of the water like a big fish." He flicked his tail again, sending a small splash of water toward you, and laughed.

You grinned, delighted by his enthusiasm. “That’s amazing. It must be so fun to swim like that.”

Rafayel looked at you, then down at his tail, as though contemplating something deeply. "It is fun, but..." He looked back up at you, suddenly more serious. "What do you do when you want to go fast, or when you want to swim?"

You had to think about that for a second. You weren’t used to the idea of swimming the way Rafayel did. You enjoyed the water, but you’d never been able to move through it the same way he could. "Well, I guess I just... swim like regular people? I mean, we use our arms and legs, but we don’t do it like you do." You paused for a moment, remembering the fun of jumping in the water but not the freedom he must have felt, gliding effortlessly. "I think it’s different for us."

Rafayel nodded thoughtfully, clearly fascinated by everything you were saying. "I wish I could see you try to swim." His eyes sparkled with interest. "I wonder how you’d move through the water without a tail. Maybe you would... float really well?"

You giggled at the thought, imagining yourself trying to float around like a leaf on the water. "Maybe I would." You paused, then raised an eyebrow playfully. "Maybe you could teach me how to use my tail, though?"

Rafayel blinked in surprise, but his face lit up at your suggestion. "Teach you? But... you don’t have a tail like mine!"

You leaned forward, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "Well, I could try to swim like you. Just teach me how!"

He scratched his head, considering the idea. "I don’t know if I can teach you that… I mean, I don’t know how to teach someone who doesn’t have a tail!" He laughed nervously, looking at you as if you were asking him to teach you how to fly.

You chuckled at his awkwardness, but there was a spark of understanding between you. You knew he wanted to show you things, and it was nice to see him care so much. "Well, maybe not the tail part," you said softly, “but we could teach each other something. I can show you how to walk on two legs, and you can show me how to swim like you.”

Rafayel looked at you, his eyes shining brighter than the water. He grinned, his excitement unmistakable. "Deal!"

The stars above twinkled brightly as you and Rafayel continued your conversation, the words flowing easily between you both. The night air was cool, the salty scent of the sea mixing with the warmth of the small fire you’d built together. You both sat near the shore, the waves gently rolling in with rhythmic ease, and while you couldn’t have said exactly when, it was clear that the night had gotten later than either of you realized.

You’d been spending hours with Rafayel, mimicking his movements and playing around with the oddity of your new friendship. You tried your best to imitate the graceful movements of his tail in the water, but without a tail of your own, you found it harder than it seemed. It was much more fluid and effortless when Rafayel did it. His tail sliced through the water with a stunning elegance that left you in awe every time.

He, in turn, had tried to mimic your walking, though he wasn’t used to it. With his tail still the only part of him that existed in this world, his efforts were more clumsy than you expected. He twisted and shifted in the water, trying to get his movements to match yours, awkwardly flopping his body around to resemble walking on two legs. His eyes would twinkle with a grin every time he lost his balance and fell, only to try again, more determined than before.

For a few hours, this harmless playfulness went on, but eventually, you found yourself yawning, exhaustion creeping over you. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, and with the cool night air against your skin, your body decided it was time to rest. You stretched your arms, trying to fight the sleepiness, but before you knew it, your eyelids fluttered, and you let out a soft sigh.

Rafayel was still trying to imitate walking on two legs in the shallow water near the shore, but he paused when he noticed the soft sound of your breathing change. He turned to see you sitting near the fire, your head tilting slightly as you leaned back, eyes closed in a peaceful daze. He blinked, his expression softening as he took in your slumped figure.

He approached slowly, sensing that you were falling asleep. Part of him wanted to wake you—he didn’t want you to be vulnerable while you slept, especially with no one around. But something stopped him. You looked so peaceful, so trustingly comfortable in his company. His eyes wandered down to the water, and he curiously mimicked your movements on the shore, trying to mirror what you did while walking. He flexed his tail in the water and then brought himself forward, feeling the odd sensation of walking without legs. It was awkward, but he didn’t mind—it was almost like a game now.

Eventually, though, he stopped moving and glanced back over his shoulder at you. He blinked again, a knot forming in his chest. You were asleep. You’d trusted him to be near, without fear. But with humans, there was always danger, wasn’t there? He wasn’t sure how things worked in your world, what dangers you faced, but he had learned that humans weren’t always like merfolk. There were other humans out there, ones who might not understand, ones who might hurt you.

Rafayel's heart fluttered with unease, but instead of disturbing your rest, he just knelt near the shore, staring at the gentle waves. He thought about what he could do for you, about how much he longed to help you navigate your world. His desire to protect you was growing with every passing moment, even as he couldn’t understand why he felt this pull so strongly, so suddenly.

He heard voices from the distance, and his eyes shot wide with alertness. The sounds of yelling were growing closer, and with them came an unsettling feeling in his chest. His instincts told him to leave, to slip away into the water where no one could see him. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave you, not now, not like this. His gaze flickered back to you, noticing the delicate way your fingers curled into the sand, the peaceful expression on your face.

The voices grew louder now—there were humans looking for you, their calls echoing into the night. Rafayel’s heart skipped a beat. They were coming, and he had to decide what to do. The thought of being caught out in the open, exposed, terrified him. He didn’t want them to see him, to see what he was.

But there was a part of him that couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you, even if it meant putting himself in danger.

Quickly, he glanced around for something to give you, a gesture of care. His eyes locked on a small, smooth shell nearby—a perfect crescent-shaped shell that had caught his attention earlier. He picked it up carefully, the light of the moon reflecting on its pearlescent surface. He gently placed it in your palm, making sure it stayed there, even as you slept soundly, unaware.

“Please stay safe,” Rafayel whispered softly, his voice barely audible against the sounds of the waves.

As much as it pained him, he finally turned away, his movements swift and silent. With one last lingering look at you, he dove into the water, feeling the cool embrace of the sea. His body adjusted seamlessly to the water, his tail cutting through it with ease. He swam deeper, away from the shore, where he would be hidden from the approaching humans.

But his mind stayed on you, and the memory of your trusting face lingered in his heart.

He didn't know what the future held, what might come of your world meeting his, but he was certain of one thing: he would protect you from whatever dangers lay ahead. The thought of leaving you in harm's way was unbearable, and so, he would wait. He would wait until the time was right, until he could understand your world more fully, and perhaps, find a way to be near you without the fear of being seen.

Rafayel had never stopped thinking about you.

He'd only known you for a brief time, just a few hours one fateful night on the shore. But in that time, something in him had shifted—something deep and primal, something that he couldn't ignore. The pull had been instant, a magnetic force between him and you, something that felt ancient and impossible to dismiss. He had left the water that night with the shell in his hand, his heart fluttering in a way he didn't fully understand.

And yet, after that night, you were gone.

He had waited, watching the shore from the water, hoping to catch a glimpse of your face. He told himself it was just a fleeting connection, that the human world and the merfolk world were too different, and that he shouldn't expect anything to come from that brief meeting. But each time he checked, each time he thought he might see you, the shore was empty. The waves crashed against the rocks, and the wind carried nothing but silence.

Rafayel’s parents had told him that you had been on a vacation, that you didn’t live near the shore. At first, he’d clung to the hope that you would return. But as the months passed and you never came back, he had to face a painful truth—maybe he would never see you again.

His heart ached every time he thought of you, and he didn’t fully understand why. After all, you had only been a human, someone he had met by chance. But there was something so magnetic about you, something that had drawn him in. He couldn’t explain it, and as time went on, the confusion only grew stronger.

When Rafayel finally came of age, his parents had talked to him about the change, the transformation that would allow him to take on a human form and live among them. The change was something all merfolk went through when they reached adulthood, but for Rafayel, it had always been about one thing: finding you.

He had known, deep down, that if he ever had the chance, he would leave the sea, leave his home, and search for you. He didn’t know where you were or what had become of you, but he had to try. The pull in his chest was too strong, and it wouldn’t go away. No matter how much time passed, he couldn’t forget you.

So, with the change complete and his human form fully manifested, Rafayel left the ocean for the first time, walking onto land with determination in his eyes. He didn’t know where to start looking for you—he only knew the shore where you had disappeared from, the place where he had last seen you. He made his way to the human town nearest to the beach, hoping that somehow, some way, he would find a clue that would lead him to you.

The search was harder than he had expected. He didn’t know where to begin, and the world of humans was so vast and strange to him. He asked around in the town, but no one knew you. No one had heard of the girl who had once laughed and talked to a merman on the shore. At first, Rafayel had assumed that you were simply a traveler, someone passing through. But as the weeks went on, he started to realize the truth—he had no idea where you had gone, or even if you were still alive. His hope began to dwindle, but the longing for you never left.

It wasn’t until one afternoon, when Rafayel had nearly given up on finding you, that he overheard something that made his heart skip a beat.

A pair of humans were talking nearby, and he caught part of their conversation.

"Have you heard? The family that used to live here… Their daughter never came back after their vacation," one of them said. "I think they sold their house. Poor girl, she had such big dreams. I heard she was adopted after her parents passed away. Maybe she’s living somewhere else now."

Rafayel froze, his heart pounding. "Adopted?" he murmured to himself.

Could it be you? Could it really be the same girl?

He approached the two humans cautiously, hoping they would provide more details. But they didn’t seem to know much more about you. They mentioned your family’s house being sold, the vacation you had gone on, and that they had heard you were adopted. It was all so confusing, so uncertain. They spoke as if you were nothing more than a distant memory, a girl who had disappeared from their lives years ago.

Rafayel felt his pulse race, but he didn’t know what to do with this new information. Had you been gone all this time, living elsewhere? Had you forgotten about him? Was this all just some sort of strange dream to you?

He had no way of knowing, but he knew one thing for sure: He needed to find you.

He tried asking around the town for more clues, but no one could tell him where you had gone. No one knew what had happened to the girl who had laughed with the merman by the shore. They spoke of you as if you had never existed, like a story that had been forgotten.

Rafayel sank to his knees on the beach, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him. He had searched, asked, and hoped for so long. And yet, he was still no closer to finding you.

The ache in his chest deepened, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. He had thought he was ready to find you, ready to face whatever might happen, but now that he was here, the uncertainty felt unbearable.

He didn’t even know if you would recognize him. Would you remember the merman you had met as a child, or would you think him just another strange figment of your imagination? Would you think he was a dream?

Rafayel’s mind was spinning, caught in the confusion of his own emotions. The search for you had led him here, but it felt like he was still missing something—something that would finally bring him the answers he needed.

And so, Rafayel sat there, staring out at the endless ocean, wondering if you were out there somewhere—waiting to be found, waiting for him.

Rafayel sat alone in his small, dimly lit apartment, a blank canvas stretched out in front of him. His fingers hovered over the brush, the bristles quivering in the air like a hesitant dancer before a performance. He had learned the hard way that his heart, his soul, was tied to you, even though he had never been able to find you after all this time. But now, with a new sense of purpose, he had a plan.

He was going to paint you. He was going to capture the memory of the girl with whom he'd shared only a few fleeting moments—the girl who had become a dream he couldn’t shake. He had never been an artist before, but now, after months of trying to recreate the warmth of your smile, the spark in your eyes, and the soft laugh that echoed in his mind, Rafayel felt a sudden burst of raw talent. It came to him naturally, as if his hand was guided by some invisible force. In time, his brushstrokes were no longer clumsy, and his paintings began to take shape in a way that he had never imagined possible.

Every portrait he created was different, a combination of what he remembered from that night on the shore and what he thought you might look like now. He worked relentlessly, day and night, blending colors and textures as he brought your face to life again and again. The subtle curve of your lips, the delicate arch of your brows, the shimmer in your eyes.

But no matter how many portraits he created, no matter how closely he examined his work, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The girl in the paintings—was it you? It didn’t feel like it. He felt he could almost reach through the canvas and touch your presence, but it never quite reached the depth of who you truly were.

Each time he thought he was getting closer, the next painting felt a little further from the mark. He wanted to make sure he got it right. He couldn’t afford to fail. His chest tightened, his mind clouded with thoughts of the possibility that he would never see you again. His heart pounded in his chest, desperate for the truth.

Then one afternoon, weeks after he had begun his artistic obsession, a break finally came.

He was at a small café, taking a brief respite from his work, when he overheard a conversation that stopped his breath in his throat. An older man was talking to the barista, his gruff voice carrying over the chatter of other patrons. Rafayel couldn't help but eavesdrop as the man spoke, his words tugging at a memory he thought was long buried.

"You know," the man was saying, "I knew her when she was just a little girl. She was quite the tough one, always out there hunting, always training. And now, look at her—getting a reward for being one of the best in the city. Never thought I'd see the day."

Rafayel’s heart pounded harder than ever. He leaned in slightly, ears straining to catch the next words.

"Reward?" the barista asked, clearly intrigued.

The man nodded. "Yes, she was in the papers last week. Excellent hunter. They even gave her a medal. Quite the achievement for someone so young."

The hairs on the back of Rafayel's neck stood up as his mind raced. Could it be her? he thought, the hope surging inside him like a wildfire. He quickly composed himself and approached the man, not wanting to seem too eager.

"Excuse me," Rafayel interjected, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "You said... you knew her? The girl who received the reward?"

The man turned, his expression slightly guarded, but Rafayel’s intensity must have been clear because the man hesitated before answering.

"Yes," he said. "Her name’s Y/N. She was adopted by an older couple after her parents passed. Not sure where she is now, but last I heard, she’s living in Linkon City. She had a lot of promise back then, and I hear she’s made a real name for herself as a hunter."

Rafayel's breath caught in his throat. He had to fight the urge to rush out the door and find you immediately. His chest tightened with the weight of the revelation. Y/N. Your name. He had no doubt now—this was the girl he had been searching for, the one who had haunted his dreams for years.

He thanked the man, his voice shaky but sincere, and rushed to the nearest shop to buy a local newspaper. He scanned the front page, and there you were—your face staring back at him from the photograph. His heart nearly stopped as he saw you, older now, more mature, with a sharp, confident look in your eyes. The caption read: "Young Hunter of Linkon City Receives Award for Excellence."

The world around him seemed to blur as his eyes traced the image of you. His hands shook, and for the first time in years, Rafayel smiled. His heart swelled with both pride and love—pride that you had made something of yourself just like he had always known you would, and love that burned brighter now than ever before.

But as his eyes lingered on the photo, a deep, gnawing doubt struck him like a cruel wave. His paintings—the portraits of you—didn’t do you justice. How could they? The girl in those paintings was always a child, always frozen in time. This woman in the photograph was so much more than that. You had grown, evolved into something beyond what he had imagined, and yet, that was still you. That was the girl from the shore, the one who had touched his heart.

He stared at the photograph, unable to tear his eyes away. He had found you.

But now, the question was—how would he reach you? How would he get you to see him the way he saw you? Would you even remember him? Would you even believe it was the same person?

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, Rafayel made a decision.

He was going to Linkon City. He would find you, finally face-to-face, and try to bridge the gap between the dreams of the past and the reality of now.

The days following his discovery of your whereabouts were a blur of anxious energy and tireless effort. Rafayel spent hours—sometimes even all day—studying the photos of you in the paper, trying to etch your face into his mind. Every curve of your cheek, every spark in your eyes, the subtle curve of your lips. It wasn't enough to just look at the photographs anymore. He had to feel you, to know you. And so, the paintings continued.

He worked furiously, sketching and painting until his fingers ached, each stroke of the brush building the image of you. In his mind, you became clearer, sharper, more real with every stroke. He had painted you a dozen different ways by now, with each one revealing a little more of who you were—your maturity, your strength, the softness hidden beneath your confidence.

Finally, after days of painstaking work, Rafayel was able to capture you so perfectly that it felt as though you might step right out of the canvas. The memory of you—the real you—had settled deep within his mind, so ingrained that it no longer required a photograph to reference. He could draw you from memory, from feeling.

When the breakthrough came, it felt like a moment of pure magic. The drawing was flawless, the last line on the canvas the final piece of a puzzle he had been working on for years. He sat back and took in the image. It was you—no longer the child he had met by the shore years ago, but a grown woman, strong and confident in her own skin. The painting shimmered with the same light he remembered from that day, the spark that had drawn him to you.

But now, he needed to find you.

Linkon City. That was where you had been. And now, it was where he would go.

With a single, deep breath, Rafayel packed his things and set out for the city. The streets of Linkon were busy, bustling with people going about their lives, and Rafayel wandered among them, searching for any sign of you. But he had no idea where to begin. He didn’t know where you lived, or how you spent your days. All he had were his paintings, his memories, and his hope.

His hope led him back to the shore.

It wasn’t the beach where they had met—it wasn’t even the same town—but it was close enough. The shore had always felt like home to him, and he hoped that perhaps, just perhaps, you might come back here, like he had, to the place where the ocean whispered its secrets.

So, every day, Rafayel returned to the shore, sitting quietly with his easel and his paints. He worked, creating quick portraits of people who passed by, offering the paintings in exchange for a few coins. The people who came through were strangers, but for Rafayel, the true reward wasn’t the payment, it was the quiet moments in between—watching the waves, breathing in the salty air, waiting for a face he longed to see.

Day after day, he sat on the same spot, sketching, painting, lost in thoughts of you. He knew it was a long shot, but something inside him told him that you might just be close. You had to be. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving without seeing you, without knowing if there was even the smallest chance you remembered him.

A week passed, then a week and a half. His patience began to wear thin, but the spark of hope never faded. Every time he heard footsteps on the sand, he looked up with a racing heart, hoping—hoping—that it was you.

One late afternoon, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Rafayel was putting the final strokes on a painting. He had been so immersed in his work that the world around him had become a blur, his focus consumed by the canvas. As he added the last touch, a tiny swirl of blue to the corner of the painting, his gaze shifted up to the horizon.

And there you were.

You walked past, seemingly unaware of his presence, as though you were just another passerby, lost in your own world. But Rafayel’s heart stopped. The world around him seemed to freeze, and for a moment, everything felt surreal. It was you. You. He knew it immediately, even if you hadn’t seen him yet. The way you carried yourself, the way the light caught your hair, the way your footsteps seemed to match the rhythm of the waves—they were unmistakable.

He gasped, but quickly caught himself. He couldn’t let you know he was watching you. Not yet.

For a moment, Rafayel was frozen in place, unsure of what to do. Should he call out to you? Should he run to you and finally say everything he had been dying to say? No. He couldn’t. Not yet. You were here, but you hadn’t noticed him. And he wasn’t sure if you would even remember him.

Instead, he continued painting, keeping his gaze low and pretending to be lost in his work, even though his mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. His hand moved with steady strokes, carefully adding details to the portrait of a man who had paid for his art earlier that day. But his focus was on you—on the way you walked around the market, browsing the stalls, looking at trinkets and wares like any ordinary person.

He wanted to call out to you, to tell you everything, but he didn’t. He couldn’t yet risk it. So, he finished his painting in silence, feeling the pressure of time closing in as he tried to stay composed.

After a while, a small crowd began to form around his easel, admiring his work. He took the payment without thinking much about it, his mind still focused on you. As the last customer left, he slowly stood up, his gaze never leaving you.

You were still there, walking through the market, laughing softly with someone who had stopped to talk to you.

Rafayel sat still, his brush hovering over the canvas as he glanced at the ocean's rhythmic waves. His mind wandered, drifting from thought to thought, but his eyes never left the shore. In the distance, people walked by, oblivious to the quiet man sitting alone with his art. But he wasn’t looking at them. His gaze lingered on the figure walking among the crowds, brows furrowed, fingers absentmindedly running through his hair.

There she is.

You hadn't noticed him yet, but Rafayel felt an undeniable pull in his chest. He was finally close to you—this you, the one who had been a fleeting memory for years. His hands trembled slightly, but he steadied them, focusing back on the portrait in front of him. He’d painted and repainted your face so many times in his mind, trying to capture the essence of you.

The woman in his painting was close, but something was different. The years had passed, and you had changed. He didn’t know if you'd recognize him, but he didn’t dare risk it. He kept his head lowered, feigning concentration, waiting to see if you'd come closer.

And then—he saw it. A slight shift in your posture.

You stopped in your tracks, your gaze fixing in his direction. Rafayel held his breath, his pulse quickening. For a long, drawn-out moment, you stood there, staring at him, your eyes wide.

A soft gasp left your lips, too soft for anyone else to hear but loud enough for him to catch it. It was as though you recognized him immediately. The smile that spread across your face lit up your whole expression, and you started walking toward him. His heart leapt, an overwhelming mix of excitement and dread swirling in his chest. His hands were still shaking, and he didn’t dare look up as you neared. He wasn’t ready for what was coming next.

But you weren’t walking cautiously, or with hesitation—you bounded up to him, your eyes sparkling, radiating energy. You stopped in front of him, out of breath, looking at him with wonder.

"You look just like the merman from my dreams when I was a kid!" you exclaimed, practically bouncing in place.

A knot tightened in Rafayel’s chest, and the world around him seemed to slow. His heart skipped a beat, then sank into his stomach. His mind raced, trying to process your words. The merman from your dreams? Did you really not remember him? Did you really not recognize the man in front of you?

It felt as though the ground shifted beneath his feet, and his world tilted. But then, he forced a smile onto his lips, carefully masking the ache that bloomed in his chest. His emotions had to stay under control.

He could only laugh, though the sound felt hollow. “A merman, huh?” He handed you one of his portraits, keeping his voice light. "Well, I’d be happy to talk about your dream, if you’re willing to share. Maybe I could do a quick portrait for you—on the house, of course.”

You beamed, your smile so wide it almost seemed to brighten the entire area. With a grateful nod, you sat down beside him, your excitement apparent.

“I’d love that!” you said, eyes sparkling as you looked at the drawing in your hands. “I used to have dreams about this merman, and you... you look just like him! It was always so vivid. It was like we understood each other, you know? I had this crazy dream while I was on vacation in a seaside village in the south.”

Rafayel smiled, but there was a bittersweetness to it. "Yeah, I’ve always been drawn to the sea," he said, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart was racing. “In fact, I lived around there for a while.”

He wanted to test the waters, to see if there was any recognition in your face, any flicker of memory. He kept his gaze steady on the canvas, fingers moving instinctively, not daring to look up too often. But he caught glimpses of you, watching the way your eyes flickered with curiosity.

“Oh, you lived there? That’s amazing!" You leaned forward, practically glowing. “I must’ve seen you around. Maybe I put your face on the merman in my dream, that’s why it felt so real.”

Rafayel’s heart skipped. Maybe, just maybe, there was something in those words that would break through the wall between him and your memory. But it wasn’t enough. He pressed forward, dropping subtle hints. Maybe, just maybe, you'd remember more.

“I’ve always loved the water," he added softly, trying to make the connection clearer, "Fish are my favorite food... I practically lived in the water. It’s... it’s my home, you know?”

You nodded eagerly, a bright smile still lighting up your face. “I love the sea too! It always felt so calming, so... familiar. Like I belonged there.”

His breath caught, and for a second, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe you were starting to understand, he thought. Maybe this time would be different.

But then, he saw the look in your eyes shift slightly, and you leaned back in your chair, placing a hand thoughtfully under your chin. Rafayel could feel the frustration building in his chest. He needed you to see it, to understand it—he couldn’t go on hiding behind these painted words.

With a sudden shift, he spoke with a slightly more urgent tone. “Do you still have the shell?”

You blinked, pausing for a second. A small, slow frown tugged at your lips as you processed his words. It was like the gears inside your mind clicked into place. Slowly, your gaze shifted from his face to his hands, still holding the painting.

There was a brief silence, and Rafayel’s heart pounded. This was it. He watched you carefully, waiting for the moment when you realized.

Then you looked up at him, eyes wide, the puzzle pieces coming together. A moment of clarity passed over your face, and Rafayel held his breath.

“You…” you whispered, your voice trembling with realization. “You... are him, aren’t you? The merman. You’re... you’re not just a dream.”

Rafayel couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. There was a rush of warmth in his chest as your words sank in, and for the first time, he allowed himself to breathe.

He was no longer just a memory.

He was here, with you.

“I’ve been looking for you, for a long time,” Rafayel said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve never been more glad to see you, in this life or the last.”

You stared at him, eyes full of wonder and surprise. The recognition was there now, and Rafayel felt like the world had finally shifted back into place. He wasn't just the merman from your childhood dreams. He was Rafayel—the one who had always been waiting for you.

[multific]

Caught in the Fire

Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: After you are kidnapped by a group of villains who intend to use you against the Fantastic Four, Johnny Storm races against time to save you.

A/N: This story was inspired after I saw Joseph as Johnny Storm. I will write more once the movie is out, but for now, here's something to enjoy.

It started with a quiet evening.

The moon hung low over the city, as you walked home after a long day at work. You felt tired and all you could think about was a nice bath and a quiet night with your boyfriend.

But in an instant, everything changed.

A dark van came to a halt beside you, and before you could react, a group of masked figures jumped out, grabbing you by the arms and pulling you inside the vehicle.

You struggled, but there were too many of them, and they were too strong.

"Johnny!" you cried, but the van doors shut, and something hit your head, causing you to black out.

Back at the Baxter Building, Johnny was getting ready to call it a night, he knew you would be back soon, and he was so ready for a shared bath.

But then, his phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognize. His heart skipped.

“Hello?” His voice was casual at first, but there was an edge of concern in it when no one immediately responded.

A distorted voice on the other end sent a cold chill down his spine. "We have her, Johnny Storm. You can thank your ego for that. She's going to be a bargaining chip- unless, of course, you'd prefer to never see her again."

Johnny’s stomach twisted with dread. "Who is this? Where is she?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the voice taunted before hanging up.

Johnny stood frozen, his mind racing.

They had taken you. Because of him.

Because of the fact that he was Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, and they knew that as long as they had you, they could hurt him.

They could hurt everyone.

Panic clawed at his chest.

His mind was screaming, but he knew he couldn’t act recklessly. Not if he wanted to get you back. He had to be smart and think this through.

Johnny bolted from the room, throwing on his jacket and storming toward the elevator. He knew exactly what he had to do.

It took him hours but Johnny finally found the hideout. His thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and fury.

He had never felt panic like this before, never felt so completely out of control. Every inch of him burned with the need to get you back, to make sure you were okay. He had never felt this helpless in his life, and he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.

He finally spotted the building from a distance, tucked away in an abandoned industrial part of the city.

Johnny was already in the air, flames erupting from his body as he sped toward the building.

Inside, you were tied to a chair, bruised but unharmed. Your heart raced, your breathing shallow as you tried to fight the panic clawing at your chest.

The villains had made it clear what they wanted. They had threatened to hurt you if Johnny didn’t surrender to them, if he didn’t stop being a hero.

You had faith in him, though. He would come for you. He always did. You just had to hold on.

Soon, voices outside then a crash and what sounded like a table being thrown or a chair.

You glanced up at the sound of the door slamming open, and your heart jumped in your chest when you saw him.

Johnny, his eyes wild with panic, flames trailing from his body, burning brighter than ever before.

“Johnny!” you cried, relief flooding your chest.

“Hang on!” he shouted, his voice shaking with emotion. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Johnny’s hands were shaking as he burned through the ropes that bound you, his powers melting them away with ease. He could barely focus, his heart thundering in his ears as he worked to free you. You were safe, you were okay... and yet, all he could think about was how close he had come to losing you.

Finally, the ropes were gone, and Johnny’s hands gently cupped your face, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was ragged, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked urgently, his voice soft but full of fear.

You nodded, though you were still trembling. “I’m okay, Johnny. I’m okay because you came for me.”

Johnny shook his head, guilt gnawing at him. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there sooner. I should’ve—”

“Johnny,” you whispered your hands gently holding his. “You found me. That’s all that matters. You saved me.”

Johnny closed his eyes, the weight of relief and love washing over him. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You didn’t lose me. You’re not going to.”

Johnny leaned in and kissed you, gently at first, but then with more urgency as his fear gave way to overwhelming affection.

He didn’t know how he had survived those hours of not knowing where you were, of fearing the worst. But now, with you in his arms, everything felt right again.

“I love you,” Johnny whispered, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. “I love you so damn much.”

“I love you, too,” you said softly, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re my hero.”

Johnny chuckled, though there was still a tremor in his voice. “I’m just a guy with fire powers who got lucky.”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “You’re my everything.”

The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

Johnny held you close, the warmth of his embrace comforting you as the last remnants of panic ebbed away. Nothing else mattered, not the villains, not the danger. Because as long as you had each other, everything would be okay.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[damnfeelings09]

VALENTINE'S DAY COUNTDOWN

You're in love - Leon S. Kennedy x fem reader

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x female reader Tags: fluff, comfort, love, love, love, stablished relationship, memories, cheesy stuff. Word count: Prompt: you and Leon have been together for 10 years, yet every day still feels like the first. One day while Leon’s not home you find your old diary and find yourself reliving your love story. Notes: The tears/shivers/emotions I felt while writing this I can't compare to anything. I loved this one so much I'm totally writting one for Shadow just like this. It makes me very happy to be able to express my feelings and “relive” them even if only in this way, hopefully someday I and everyone will find a person who loves us just like in the books, until then I will keep pouring my heart in my writing.

The summer heat was present in your home. The sunlight reflected colorful flashes as they hit the window. The floor was littered with boxes, some marked with “fragile” others with “Leon stuff” but your attention was on the box with your name on it. In it you had found your childhood stuffed animal, pictures of your family, a few unused stickers and an old notebook. You recognized it perfectly, there was no way you could forget that beautiful blue notebook with green hearts that had been with you for so long. Having a diary sounded childish, but for you it was important to keep your memories somewhere safe and if you ever wanted to relive them you could do it. For more than half an hour you had been rereading all your witticisms, the stale jokes you made with yourself, the desires and goals you had set for yourself when you got to college. Almost halfway through the journal you found a sheet of paper with your name and Leon's name on it with a big heart around it. Of course you knew where that drawing was from, you had drawn it the first time you had seen Leon, turning the page you found the entry for that day:

02/02/1998

The University of Illinois is really nice! I am so excited to leave for the summer. Mom says she's not ready for me to leave home but she's secretly happy for me. We visited some stores, museums, but the best part of the trip was going to the Italian restaurant Olio e Piú. Our waiter was sooooo cute. His name is Leon Scott Kennedy, he is 21 years old and just finished the police academy, he said that being a waiter was only temporary while he was waiting for the draft to know where he would be sent. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw that on the bill was his number written. Of course I didn't waste a second and sent him a message on my way out of the restaurant. We are still here for 3 more days and he offered to show me around. I don't want to sound urgent but I think Ms. Kennedy sounds great.

You chuckled. Back then you were so love-struck and dreamy. Your younger self had so much faith in life, wanting to take it in hand, and besides, you were right about one thing, Ms. Kennedy sounded so good in you. You kept turning the pages until you found an important date, once again a heart adorned the page, this time only with Leon's name.

25/04/1998

I'm on my way to Ilinois again, I know, I know, you'll say I'm crazy, that we're going too fast because we've actually only been on 2 dates, but Leon and I text to each other every day. He understands me, laughs at my witticisms and I love his dad jokes. It may be soon but I would love for it to be him. I had to lie to my parents that I would be staying with my Aunt Sarah for the next 10 days, actually I will be staying with Leon, don't judge me, Aunt Sarah was the one who insisted on covering for me. I am very excited, Leon will pick me up at the bus station and take me to a special place. I'll tell you later how it went.

12:45 am

He asked me to be his girlfriend! There were candles, roses, strawberries and stars. I couldn't ask for anything more. I think I am in love with him.

At that moment you didn't really know what it meant to be in love, it wasn't just the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, it wasn't just the happiness of having him close to you or the excitement you felt every time you kissed him. Love was something very complicated to understand, even more to explain. It was like an invisible force that attracted you to him, altering all your senses, making you addicted to that feeling, excited, but at the same time it managed to keep the other emotions at bay, you felt protected, comfortable, whole.

11/29/1998

We had a fight. Leon told me he had to report to his new job in Raccon City, today! Today of all days. He knew how important it was to me that he come to this party with me and he didn't care. Right now he must be on his way or whatever. Idiot

06/29/2001

Leon is working. It’s almost been a year since the last time we saw each other and I don't know how long I can go on enduring it. It is unfair that all this has happened, stupid pharmaceuticals and their greed. If it wasn't for them we would be together now living in an apartment in Raccon City. I feel bad, I miss him so much, I miss his kisses and his kind smile, but I can't tell him. The last time I saw him his expression had changed, his eyes didn't look friendly anymore, they turned cold, he looked calculating, as if he was waiting for something to happen. I can't judge him, he has been through a lot, only the gods know how he is still in one piece after the massacre he lived through. I'm happy he's still with me, but I keep wondering if he's still the same Leon I fell in love with.

The Raccon City incident had changed the jovial, awkward, fun-loving Leon into a distant, apathetic, dry one. He had confided in you all that had happened, or at least a little more than the government had allowed him to say. He had cried in your shoulder lamenting for those people he had been unable to save, trying to justify his every action as self-defense. You had listened to him, wiped away his tears, stroked his back as he let it all out. You had shown him that no matter what had happened you loved him unconditionally, you had even encouraged him to take the job offered to him by the U.S. government assuring him that you would wait for him and you did.

11/11/2004

He came back. Three days ago, as I opened the door to take out the garbage, Leon was there, with his travel bag in hand and a bandage covering half of his right shoulder. I know he said he would, but part of me didn't believe it. The state he's in, gods, you don't know how I regret encouraging him take this job. Sometimes he wakes up screaming babbling about “the plagues”, when that happens he reaches for my chest, lies on me and holds his ear close to my heart, he says it calms him. I'm just glad he's back home with me, I don't know how or how long it will take but I'll help him put all his pieces back together, I love him, I can't stand seeing him like this.

When he left for spain, the fear of not knowing anything about his where abouts for almost a month was unbearable, then one day he shows up on your door. Beaten, bruised, tired, haggard and thinner than the last time you saw him, but alive, yes a few cuts and his shoulder bandaged but he was there. You couldn't help but run into his arms, he catches you in the air, and then both fell to the grass as you filled his face with kisses. The following days you took care of him, his nightmares were recurrent but your touch always managed to bring him back to the real world. The necklace you had given him before he left, a locket with his favorite picture of you and the phrase “Love, always” engraved on it, always in place, just like you did with yours, a small reminder of the love between you two.

05/06/2006

I said yes.

I can't believe it really happened. Seven years ago I dreamed it as I watched him clean the tables and today that dream came true. I know we are not perfect, I know Leon's line of work will keep him away from me more than I would like to, but I can't imagine my life with anyone else. I chose him long before I knew what would happen and even if I did back then I would do it all over again.

Leon recreated our first date, rented a cabin in Georgia, brought a blanket, a basket with candles, wine, glasses and strawberries. We sat under the stars and when I least expected it he got down on one knee in front of me, told me that I was the woman of his dreams, that he couldn't live without me even if he tried, that I was the only good thing in his crappy world, that all he thought about when he fought those B.O.W's was that he was making the world a little safer for me and that it didn't matter how many zombies he had to take down as long as he came home to me.

Of course I said yes. No matter what, he's the one.

You closed the diary, hugging it tightly, trying to push those memories into your heart again. Yes, things had been difficult, complex, sometimes the cost had been high, the tears, the anger and the loneliness had been more constant than you wanted to admit, but you wouldn't change any of it because somehow, the little piece of heaven seeing Leon's smile every time he came home, his scent enveloping your senses as he took you in his arms, was enough.

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“Hey honey, what you doing?” Leon said, putting down the bags he was carrying in his hands and walking towards you “I see someone got distracted and forgot to unpack” he laughed kissing you.

“You've no idea” you smiled intertwining your hands behind his neck, kissing him once more.

[the-kingshound]

Hi author! :) I just wanted to say that, as a trans person, I'm really excited about your choice to explore Arthur as transfem in your story!

Re: One of the previous anons you got trying really hard to sound reasonable while pushing a bunch of bad-faith arguments.

The whole "long repeated legends should be respected" thing is such a weak argument, backed in-part by their own reasoning as well. Arthurian legend is literally one of the most mutable mythologies out there. Arthur being trans is hardly a stretch.

The section about sexuality to me also seemed like word salad trying to justify their discomfort with anything outside strict binary definitions. "Social media has destroyed what it means to be bi" is a very dramatic statement. Apologies that people are exploring identity in ways they don't personally vibe with. That's by no means "erasure," that's just people existing in ways that don’t conform to their understanding of things.

They're not a victim of "erasure" because other people are broadening language and identity beyond their personal preferences. They still get to call themselves whatever they want outside of those other people defining themselves. They just don't get to control how everyone else experiences and describes themselves.

Them framing trans identity as purely medical is also super reductive and exclusionary. No, gender identity isn't just a matter of how someone expresses themselves, but it also isn't locked to what they were assigned at birth. Nor to some end goal of 'passing' in a specific way. There's no single transition blueprint everyone has to follow to be valid. And the whole "warrior women and nurturing men" thing once again feels like reaching for a point to reinforce their own comfort zone. Nobody was talking about cisgender people breaking gender roles.

It's screaming "I need my strict gender and sexuality categories to feel secure, and any deviation from that makes me uncomfortable." They should've just stopped at "this isn’t for me", and moved on instead of writing a whole essay that says nothing of value.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I really appreciate what you’re doing with your story, and it makes me so happy to see trans narratives explored in different ways. Keep doing what you're doing! :)

(You also don't need to publish this if you'd rather not, I don't mean to fight with anybody, just throwing in my two cents because seeing that anon's take after originally being very elated seeing your original post made me want to do so! :D)

.

[deuxadeux-if]

heyyyyyyyy

hi omg. sorry i have been literally radio silent eeeerk. first and foremost thank all of you who messaged me to let me know about dashingdon shutting down. i haven’t logged in here in a hot minute, and it surprised me how many of you reached out. thank you :,)

bullet points on ray’s life:

graduated college! i now have a bachelor’s degree.

work is going fine! i am a full-time bartender. it’s fine, not a permanent fit for me probably but it’s okay for now.

i miss writing, but i don’t have much time to commit to it. i haven’t written anything in two (maybe even three?) months. this is partially because i’m trying to take a break to do other creative things, and partly because i love writing full-time. i’m not sure how to move forward writing in spare moments—the thought of doing that makes me a little sad. as such, i am avoiding it for the moment. lol.

my birthday is in a little less than 2 months. i will be 23! it is weird. i still feel like a teenager sometimes. sometimes even younger.

since i’m not writing at the moment, i spend my free time drawing, reading, and listening to albums. i also go on walks in the woods with my boyfriend when we’re both off work.

now about dashingdon. i thought about it quite a bit for the past week or two, and i don’t think i will be returning to deux à deux for the foreseeable future. i haven’t deleted any of my files, so it’s all there if i want to return to it at any point—but i think it will be a while before i even consider picking it back up again. a few reasons for this:

i need a much, much more concrete outline for the rest of the story, and as of right now, i don’t know what that would look like.

i don’t have much free time, and i have very little money. it feels best for me, at least right now, to fill my spare minutes with hobbies that are private to keep my sanity intact lol.

i want to spend 2025 thinking about writing more than actually writing. i have done a lot of speed-writing, just putting words to the page and blazing through—it feels like a good time to practice other skills. like sitting…thinking…stewing. i think this will help in the long run.

deux à deux needs to be consolidated. i think there only need to be 4 love interests, max, and i need to solidify exactly what parts of MC are set in stone (personality? gender? age? etc.)*

this is embarrassing but it’s fine. i need a better backbone when it comes to making stuff. i tend to accept all critique as essential. this is one way to go about creating things, but i don’t think it’s how i want to. i would prefer to make stuff that i just like, exactly how i want to make it. whatever response it garners is just how it is. i need to cultivate that vibe before putting deux à deux out there again.

*i doubt i would ever make MC genderlocked for deux à deux, though. not really my vibe.

so! since i’m not going to be writing deux à deux for i-don’t-know-how-long, i will not be transferring it over to the other site (i forget what it’s called) that is replacing dashingdon. i’m sorry if this is horrible news—i was pretty committed, initially, to writing all of deux à deux within the year once i started. then i graduated college and realized that (unfortunately) money was real and i had literally none of it and no real income. so, for now, real work it is—writing will happen when it’s a good time, but i’m not rushing it.

sorry again for the unfortunate update, but i figured it would be better to be straightforward. thanks again to all of you who reached out, it was really sweet to see all of your messages :,)

hope to see you all again soon.

— ray

[dawngyu]

RAIN LILIES

pairing: soulmate idol choi beomgyu x soulmate fem!reader

Sitting at parties surrounded by lovers, a silent third wheel at movie nights, the friend holding the camera at weddings—your hands are always... alone in the spaces where others are full.

Were you an error in the grand scheme? An anomaly? A glitch in the unforgiving script? Or maybe, he simply doesn’t really… exist.

That’s how you ended up here, standing beside your korean-pop-obsessed friend who practically dragged you out and swore you’d love the show. It all became a blur when your eyes met his.

He’s on stage, gripping the mic impossibly still, staring down back at you like he feels it too.

He shouldn’t be real.

warnings: red-string au, strangers to lovers, reader is two years older, normal society norms, waiting, anxiety, doubts, sasaengs, insecurities, hasty decisions, drunk-in-love beomgyu. pov switching. everything written is a work of fiction. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, explicit-descriptions, missionary, fingering, oral!fem receiving, dom beomgyu.

wc: 20k — playlist.

notes: fighting both my delulu and my demons while writing this. 😭 Might just be the fic I enjoyed writing the most—I hope you love it just as much! so glad to be part of this beautiful event. a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading this. ilysm.

1/5 part of the valentine event with talented moas! see the full masterlist here.

If fate promised you something so certain, how could you not long for it?

Since childhood, you’ve heard the stories. The way people speak in hushed voices, weaving fate into riddles, how somewhere out there, it's waiting—a single red string, unseen until the exact moment it’s meant to appear.

The rules are simple: the second your eyes meet theirs, a delicate crimson thread will wrap and tug around your ring finger, stretching across, tied to the one who is destined to love you.

You watched it happen to everyone else. From playground giggles in elementary school to whispered confessions in high school hallways, to late-night talks in college dorm rooms. You listened as your friends spoke about finding their own soulmates, the feeling—the pull, the process. It's everywhere. In the way, your parents fit together like pages of the same story. On the way your younger sister—still so new to the world found her match.

When you’re told your whole life that destiny is waiting for you, how could you not ache for it?

The universe doesn’t make mistakes. And yet, your hands remained... stringless.

And now you wonder if it did—with you.

"One, two, three, smile!"

You press the shutter, capturing the way they look at each other. You lower the camera, but they don’t even notice—they’re too caught up in their own little world, whispering sentences only they’ll ever understand. They laugh, eyes soft, bodies leaning in just a little closer.

How does love do that? How does it make someone shine like they’re carrying sunlight beneath their skin? Like just standing beside the right person is enough to set them alight?

And why, no matter how long you wait, does that light never seem to find you?

There are days you curse it—this cruel design, this aching uncertain certainty. You tell yourself it would be easier not to know, to live without the quiet hope that somewhere, someone is meant to find you, or that fate had already written your name beside someone else’s.

And then there are days you fear it.

What if they don’t want to find you? What if that’s why you’re still alone? What if they got it wrong, skipped over your name, and he simply… doesn’t exist?

You're an anomaly. A glitch in the well-made script.

You lost count of how many times you wished it was never made this way. That love shouldn’t be a promise. Yet in the deepest hours of the night, you found yourself—gasping, trembling, and sobbing to your palms. The feeling of—

How can you miss someone you've never met?

You want to reach for a hand you’ve never held. You long for a voice you’ve never heard, a scent you’ve never breathed, a shadow you’ve never chased. And more than anything, you wish you had a name to whisper, to give you hope.

You swallow, forcing a smile as you turn back to the couple. "Congratulations," you say, "It’s a beautiful wedding."

"Thank you, Y/N!" Ha-rin squeals, practically glowing as she steps forward to hug you. "And thank you for being our photographer—I know you must be busy."

"You’re welcome," you reply, adjusting your camera strap. "It’s what I do, after all."

Ju-won steps in then, reaching for Ha-rin’s hand like he can’t stand even a moment of space between them. "Thank you, Y/N," he says, his eyes never straying far from his wife.

They were your high school classmates. You remember the day they met—first year, first morning, when their eyes met across the classroom, and just like that, the red string appeared. They grew together, from awkward introductions to effortless friendship, and now, here they were, husband and wife.

A picture of everything the universe had promised them.

Ju-won leans in, pressing a kiss to Ha-rin’s cheek like it’s the first time, like they haven’t spent years by each other’s side. The look in their eyes is so easy, so full of love, that you have to look away.

You can't look.

"Uh, I’ll get some drinks," you say, forcing a smile that feels as out of place as you do. You don’t wait for a response. You just turn, your heels clicking against the polished floor, head spinning as you try to count how many weddings you’ve attended this year.

Or no. You’ve lost count.

Everyone you grew up with—your friends, your classmates—have already found their soulmates. Most are married now, some already raising children.

Your heels dig into your feet with each hurried step, but you don’t slow down. You just keep moving, past everyone. You know exactly where you’ll end up. The same place you always do.

Alone at the sidelines.

You grab a drink, bringing it to your lips a little too quickly, hoping the cool burn will settle the unease twisting in your stomach.

"Hey! It’s been a while!" A voice cuts calls out, familiar—but not familiar enough. You turn to see a girl skidding towards you, her face vaguely recognizable. A former classmate? A clubmate? Someone who once sat next to you in a lecture hall?

"How have you been?" she asks, taking a drink for herself.

"I’m fine, thanks," you reply, forcing an easy nod before taking another sip.

A second passes, and then another girl joins the conversation, breathless with laughter. "Beom-seok finally let me go," she teases, tilting her head toward the man across the room—her soulmate. "The guy’s obsessed."

"Of course he is," the first girl grins. "He’s your soulmate." She swirls her drink before adding, "Mine just got back from overseas. He’ll see me tomorrow once he’s in the city." And there it is again—circling back to the same topic, the one you can never take part in. You nod, offering a small smile, pretending to listen.

Because what is there to say when everyone else has something you don’t?

"Y/N?" Your name pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Did you meet yours yet?" The question hits like a slow, squeezing ache in your chest.

"No," you say, reaching for another drink. It's embarrassing that everyone knows you're empty. "I haven't."

"That's… weird, right?" The first girl tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. "I mean, we sat through those lectures together. Didn’t the studies say most people find their soulmate before twenty-five? That’s what the records say."

There’s no malice in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Like she’s pointing out a statistic, saying out what’s already been made painfully clear to you. it’s the same tired reminder, the same unspoken question: what’s wrong with you?

You’re used to it by now.

"Yeah," you say, unwilling to argue. What’s the point? Your mind slips back to those reckless high school days—the days when older girls, too cool and too cruel, mocked you for not having a soulmate. You remember snapping back, pretending their words didn’t sting.

Later, the tears came on the bus ride home—carving rivers down your cheeks as you sob. Strangers offered tissues, soft words, awkward kindness, but none of it could stitch you back together. You remember your mother's words after seeing her home. To stop them from hurting you, you have to accept all of yourself.

But how do you accept the whole of you, when it doesn’t even feel like you have all of you?

From the corner of your eye, you catch the second girl nudging her. "Don’t mind her, Y/N," she says quickly. "She doesn’t always think before she talks." Then, after a beat, she adds, "Have you tried dating in the meantime? You know, while you're waiting?"

You blink at her, taken aback.

"I mean, it's not like it’s cheating, right? Since you haven’t met them yet."

You set your drink down, your fingers suddenly cold. "Why are you suggesting something you wouldn’t even do?" Your voice is calm, but it makes her shift uncomfortably. "Or did you? Does your soulmate know?"

Neither of them speaks. Guilt in their expressions. You don’t wait for an answer. You're done for tonight.

It’s time to go.

You turn away, not bothering to look back. No one needs you here—your part is done. Your role here is over. You pull out your phone, quickly typing out a polite apology to the bride before slipping it back into your pocket.

The drive home is silent, and the buzz of the engine is the only company you have. Your hands grip the wheel a little too tightly, your thoughts drifting despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. When you finally reach your small apartment, you step out, clutching yet another wedding souvenir in one hand a meaningless token of a night that wasn’t yours to celebrate.

You lock the door behind you and lean against it blinking, exhaling shakily. "I guess today wasn’t the day either," you murmur to no one in particular, wiping away the single tear that managed to escape. "What's taking you so long?"

No matter how often you whispered this question, it never hurt any less.

"What's taking you so long?"

Beomgyu groans from under the covers, trying to burrow deeper into the warmth of his bed. The sudden tug of his blanket makes him blindly reach out, attempting to grab it back. "You shi—"

"Beomgyu, you're the last one. We're all almost ready to go," Soobin says, adjusting his belt in the mirror. "Look at this little child."

Beomgyu stretches with a dramatic yawn. "I'm up, I'm up," he mumbles, sitting up sluggishly and blinking against the light. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, feet landing on the bedside table. Soobin shakes his head but doesn't stick around—his job is done. Beomgyu is finally awake.

Minutes later, Beomgyu trudges into the living room, hair a mess, voice still deep with sleep. "Are we eating there?"

The entire room turns to look at him.

"You woke up late, and that’s the first thing you care about?" Yeonjun teases, shaking his head with a laugh.

"Well, I didn’t eat last night," Beomgyu grumbles.

"Oh?"

"Liar," the maknae pipes up from the couch, casually applying lip balm. "You literally snuck out to eat."

"You snitch," Beomgyu gasps, feigning betrayal. "I didn’t raise you to turn on me like this!"

"You? Raise me?" Kai scoffs. "Soobin hyung’s the one who raised me, what are you talking about?"

Soobin smirks and chucks Beomgyu’s towel straight at his face. "Exactly. Now go shower, you idiot."

Laughter erupts around the room as Beomgyu groans, trudging toward the bathroom. "Shower quick, hyung," Taehyun calls out.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Beomgyu’s slightly damp hair clings to the back of his neck. He hadn’t had time to dry it properly before they rushed out of the dorm—there was no room for delays today. A broadcast for their comeback. Another promotion. His stylist would handle it in the green room anyway.

They pile into the van, the usual quiet settling over them. Despite being fully dressed and ready, exhaustion hangs heavy. One by one, his members drift off, heads resting against windows, bodies slumped in their seats. Only Kai remains awake, lost in his own world, music pulsing through his earphones. The maknae was so engrossed on his phone, obviously texting with a small smile on his face.

Beomgyu sighs, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, his breath slightly fogging up the window. Today would be a long day. Rehearsals, performances, a challenge video, taping. He missed this. He missed MOAs. The rush of the stage. The high of performing. And then—

Oh.

The van slows at a red light, and his gaze drifts absentmindedly to the sidewalk. His chest tightens.

A couple walks by, laughing, hands intertwined, completely lost in their own world. The way they move together, effortlessly in sync. In love. Content. Happy. He stares longer than he should.

He can't look away.

His throat feels tight as the van lurches forward again, pulling him out of his thoughts. He blinks hard, shifting in his seat. The image stayed, pressed into the back of his mind.

All four of his members had already found theirs—their soulmates. The one they could lean on when the world became too loud. Beomgyu was happy for them, of course, he was. He remember how he was when Kai blushed when he met his soulmate recently, right after his 23rd birthday.

Everyone teased the maknae relentlessly for weeks.

Beomgyu had been too busy his whole life, training since he was just a kid, running full speed toward a dream. His mind is busy to the point he sometimes forgets it. He does not mean to. It's just that—he never let himself dwell on it for too long. Pushing it aside became second nature, the same way he’d forget to eat when he was too busy, too distracted.

But every year, without fail, when the room dimmed and the birthday candles in front of him, his wish was always the same.

His soulmate.

It didn’t matter how many years passed or how much he achieved—when the glow of those tiny flames danced in his eyes, it was the only thing his heart whispered.

Beomgyu exhales shakily, his fingers curling into his hoodie. a quiet sigh slipping from his pouting lips.

Where are you?

The stark white walls of the hospital room loom over, mocking your awkwardness.

"There's nothing wrong with you, dear," the woman in front of you says, her lab coat lending a sense of authority to her words. Her voice is gentle, reassuring, but it barely soothes the unease twisting in your chest. "Soulmates do tend to find each other early, statistically speaking. But that’s just a pattern, not a guarantee."

You swallow hard. The lump in your throat stays put. "Is there… any chance this is a mistake?" Your voice is quieter than you intend, fragile in a way you hate. "That someone could go their whole life without one? That—" you hesitate, your chest tightening, "that I’m just… meant to be alone?"

Something flickers across her face—pity, maybe. You’re not sure. "I’ll look into it, I promise," she says after a moment. "I know twenty-six feels late, and I know it’s frustrating. But… trust in destiny a little longer. If you want, I can also recommend a therapist. I know the pressure can get to you."

Her words are meant to be comforting. They only make the weight in your chest heavier. You shake your head, managing a quiet “thank you” before slipping out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

“How was it?” Da-hee’s voice reaches you before you even look up. She’s already on her feet, eyes scanning your face, searching for an answer. “What did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before.” You sigh, walking past her. “I told you I should not do this.”

She huffs, crossing her arms as she falls into step beside you. “You never tried it,”

Your best friend doesn’t argue anymore, following you to the counter in silence. The cashier barely looks up as they say, “That consultation is $120 total, plus taxes, bringing it to $145.86. Card or cash?”

You catch Da-hee reaching for her wallet, but you gently push her hand away. “Don’t,” you murmur. “This was for me.”

You hand over your card. A quick swipe, a faint beep. And just like that, you’re down nearly $150 with nothing to show for it but a sinking feeling in your stomach.

That much money for a consultation. A conversation. No treatment, no tests, nothing tangible. Soulmate doctors are expensive. Too expensive. And health insurance? Useless. They don’t cover something as rare, as unquantifiable, as soulmate problems.

Because to them, it’s not a real sickness, proving that you are—once again—the outlier.

Perfect.

“Come on,” you say, nudging your still-guilty-looking friend. She follows you out of the hospital, quiet and pouting.

At the car, she pulls open the driver’s side door. “Let me at least drive?” she offers, voice softer now.

You chuckle at her persistence, shaking your head before tossing her the keys. “Okay.” Sliding into the passenger seat, you reach for the radio, as she pulls out of the parking lot.

"Let's hang out at your place," Da-hee says, and she grins as she sees you nod your head.

Music played softly through the speakers, blending with the casual flow of conversation. The air is light, and easy—until your car rolls past a towering black building.

HYBE.

Funeral wreaths. Trucks. Massive banners.

Your brows furrow as you take it in, the sight so jarring that it silences you for a beat. The road ahead clogs with slowed traffic, people lingering to gawk at the scene.

“What the fuck?” Da-hee mutters, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, eyes darting across the scene. The traffic slows as more people crane their necks to look. You do the same, stomach twisting at the sheer scale of it. "This is insane."

“What’s going on?” you ask, still trying to piece together the meaning behind it all.

She exhales, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lee Heeseung. An idol,” she starts. “News got out that he recently went out with his soulmate.” Her voice dips, sadness flickering across her face. “And now… now, people want him out of the group.”

Your stomach twists. “What?”

You strain to read the bold, angry messages plastered across the banners:

GET LEE HEESEUNG OUT OF HYBE.

APOLOGIZE, LEE HEESEUNG.

EXPLAIN THIS, LEE HEESEUNG.

ENHYPEN IS NOW ONLY SIX.

IDOLS WITH SOULMATES ARE NOT IDOLS.

The messages feel suffocating, each one worse than the last. Then you see it—one of the trucks, its LED screen flashing an image like a public execution.

A man, young and striking, caught mid-laughter as he eats ramen with a girl beside him. She’s smiling too, her expression warm, content. The matching caps on their heads make them look like any ordinary couple, but the grainy, long-lens quality of the photo gives it away. Someone had been watching. Someone had been waiting to expose them.

Your stomach turns.

“It’s worse when so many fans are… young,” Da-hee murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most of them are stringless.” She says the last word carefully like she doesn’t want to offend you.

But you almost hear what she isn’t saying.

Stringless people can’t understand the soulmate bond. And when it comes to idols, that misunderstanding twists into darker. As insane as it sounds, they feel entitled. Possessive. Like their devotion should be enough. Like an idol’s life—who they love, who they belong to—should be theirs to control.

It’s the only explanation, isn’t it?

The car inches forward, and your eyes drift back to the scene outside. Security guards push against the surging crowd, their faces strained. The banners wave wildly, like battle flags in a war meant to punish.

You swallow hard. “I don’t get it.” You don’t know him. You don't need to know him to know the injustice of it. “Why treat him like he committed some kind of crime? He’s meant to have someone. He’s a person, not—” You gesture vaguely at the protest, frustration bubbling up. “Not their property.”

Da-hee sighs. “That’s why idols who are caught with their soulmates—especially the ones who confirm it, get cancelled. Fans turn on them. They lose everything.” She shakes her head, voice laced with exhaustion and resignation. “It’s sad that they have to hide it.”

The thought of society hating someone just for loving who they’re meant to love makes your chest feel tight. How could something meant to be beautiful turn into this?

You guess your own situation isn’t the only cruel, unfair thing in this world.

The two of you make it back to your apartment, settling in for a movie with a bowl of popcorn between you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room, a comfortable silence stretching between you—until Da-hee suddenly squeals, nearly knocking the popcorn over in the process.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, shoving the popcorn bowl off her lap as she scrambles to her feet. “OH MY GOD.” She starts stomping in place.

You glance at her, unimpressed. “I want to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face.”

She just giggles and shoves her phone in front of you. “Joon bought me VVIP tickets. I’m going to die.” She pumps a fist in the air, bouncing on her toes like a kid who just won the lottery. “And there’s two. He can’t go—oh my god. Please, please, I am begging you to come with me. It’s next week! That sneaky bastard didn’t even tell me he bought them ages ago.”

You hesitate, already feeling the excuse forming on your tongue. “I don’t think—”

“Come on, Y/N.” She grabs your arm, shaking it dramatically. “Look at me. I have a soulmate, and I still thirst over Tomorrow X Together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “That’s a long-ass name.”

“They’re my babies,” she says, clutching her chest like she’s been personally blessed by the gods. “You’ll love the show, I promise. And maybe—you’ll be like me. While you wait for your soulmate, it’s harmless to fangirl a little. OMG, what if you become a MOA? That’s my dream. Imagine us going to cafés with photocards, buying merch, collecting albums—”

“Okay, first of all, they are grown men. Not babies.” you cut in before she spirals. You know from experience that once she starts talking about her fangirl life, she never stops. “Anyways, okay, I’ll go. But don’t expect anything.”

Da-hee lets out another excited squeal before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and squeezing way too tight.

“You won’t regret this!”

You already do.

It was your turn to trail behind Da-hee like a lost puppy, weaving through the sea of fans decked out in carefully coordinated outfits. Everyone is well dressed. So prepared. Keychains and accessories dangled from their bags, the sound of clinking metal filling the air.

"Look at them," Da-hee suddenly stopped, pulling out her phone. You followed her gaze to the massive banner hanging outside the arena.

TOMORROW X TOGETHER

They... didn’t look bad.

"My husbands," Da-hee sighed dreamily spinning turning to you with wide eyes. "Let's take a selfie!"

Before you could protest, she yanked you in, holding her phone high. The two of you posed—her grinning ear to ear, you looking like a reluctant daughter humoring her overexcited mom.

At the ticketing section, an attendant handed you both event wristbands and ID laces. You're about to shove yours into your pocket, but Da-hee looped it around your neck like a medal.

“So you don’t lose it,” she said firmly.

You sighed, adjusting the strap as you followed her toward a merch booth. Fans swarmed the display, eyes gleaming as they scanned the shelves stacked with albums, shirts, and accessories.

"Everyone's so hyped," you muttered, glancing around. "I can see a lot of Da-hees here."

"Of course they are," Da-hee said ignoring your last comment with a dramatic sway of her hand. She skimmed the display. "This comeback is a masterpiece."

You frowned. "What are we even doing here?"

"You need a picket." She says. "And don’t even think about saying no. I’m still heartbroken you refused the lightstick, so at least take this. We’re gonna be right at the barricades, you can’t just stand there empty-handed. Pick one."

You groaned, "Fine."

Your eyes sweep over the options, scanning each face printed on the glossy boards. You won’t say it out loud—not yet—but you’ll admit it now. They’re all… ridiculously handsome.

And one of them stands out.

Soft brown eyes. A small, almost knowing smile. Something about his face makes your breath hitch. "Uh..."

Da-hee leans in, brow furrowing. "What are you picking? Wait. Are you okay? Why are you so red—"

"I'm not," You quickly pointed at the picket, avoiding her stare like your life depended on it. "This one."

A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her face. "Oh-ho." She turns to the waiting merch seller, smiling some more.

"One Beomgyu, please."

You followed her... once again.

You didn’t have much of a choice. But this time, your steps felt… lighter. Movements are less reluctant than when you first arrived.

You weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the way the heat had finally eased, the golden glow of late afternoon settling over the pavement. Maybe it was the way MOAs—total strangers—smiled at you like you belonged, their warmth making you feel strangely at ease. Maybe it was the fact of not hearing the word soulmate even once. That you don't feel the odd one out.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the picket you now held carefully in your hands.

You didn’t know how it happened. How you went from teasing Da-hee about her obsession to clutching a piece of laminated paper like it meant something. But the more you looked around, the more you understood.

It wasn’t just about the idols printed on banners or the music playing faintly in the background. But also, it was about them. These people who glowed with excitement, who found joy in simply being here, in loving unapologetically.

You were sceptical of it at first, seeing the front of HYBE last week. The protest. But just like everything, you saw it. The good side of being a fan.

How they shined—not only because of who they adored, but because of how they adored. How happy they were to love, and to share that love with everyone around them.

And somehow, standing here among them, you felt a little brighter, too.

"Where are we going now?"

"MOAZONE," Da-hee answers without hesitation, pulling you toward yet another booth. The concert doors won’t open for another thirty minutes, but she’s on a mission. The funny thing is—she doesn’t really need to drag you anymore.

Something has settled in your bones. You’re going to see this through, stay until the last song fades. And maybe—you’ll find yourself here again next time.

"It’s a booth where you can pull a concert-exclusive photocard," she explains further, eyes shining with excitement.

You nod, letting her lead the way. The line is long. When it’s finally Da-hee’s turn, she gasps, then squeals so loudly people around her chuckle. "Yeonjun!" she cries, clutching the card to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world. "I got him!"

Then, it’s your turn.

A row of face-down cards is laid out before you. You don’t think too hard about it—you just point to one.

The staff hands it over, and when you flip it, your breath catches.

"You got Beomgyu?!" Da-hee shrieks, bouncing on her toes beside you. You barely hear her. Because there he is.

Elbow propped up, chin resting on his hand, that same small, knowing smile—only this time, it’s wider.

Fucking hell.

Da-hee grabs your arm, shaking you. "Girl, you are officially a Beomgyu magnet. I'm unfriending you if don't start liking them,"

Beomgyu.

Beomgyu. His name loops in your mind, over and over. And for some reason, it fits. His name suits him.

You tried your best not to break a smile. "Come on,"

If you had told yourself a year ago that you’d be here—crammed into a packed venue, surrounded by screaming teenagers—you would’ve laughed. Hard.

And yet, here you are, laughing. Not at the absurdity of it, but with it. Caught up in the moment with Da-hee, the crowd’s energy vibrates as hundreds of voices chant their names.

“It’s soundcheck first,” Da-hee leans in, her voice barely cutting through the noise. “Then the main concert.”

You nod, still grinning. “Okay.”

Then, the opening notes of a song play through the speakers. The crowd erupts. “Oh my god!” Da-hee shrieks, “It’s Deja Vu!”

The five of them step onto the stage. It’s a blur—lights flashing, voices screaming. Your heart pounds against your ribs as the music swells, wrapping around you like something alive.

It’s beautiful.

A tall man—easily the tallest—moves toward your section, waving with an easy smile, deep dimples carving into his soft-looking cheeks. It reminds you of bread. The warmth of it is infectious, and before you even realise it, you're waving back, grinning at someone whose name you didn’t even know this morning.

Then, the song begins to wind down. And that’s when you see him.

Beomgyu.

His steps are slower than the others, like he’s taking his time, scanning the crowd with careful eyes. You tell yourself not to look. Not when he gets closer. Not when that strange, restless nervousness twists in your stomach. You clench your fists and stare at the ground. Why? Why does this feel so overwhelming?

Around you, voices grew. The energy shifts, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. You look up, unsure.

The mic is at his lips, his voice singing into the melody—until suddenly, he stops.

All because his eyes meet yours.

Everything else fades. The crowd, the shake of Da-hee beside you, even the music that was supposed to be loud. All that’s left is the pull—a red thread stretching between, searing itself into your vision, blinding in its intensity—demanding to be seen.

On stage, he stands impossibly still, his fingers gripping the mic like he sees it too.

It can't be real.

“We're trending again,” Taehyun says, flopping onto Beomgyu’s hotel bed with a sigh. “What the hell?”

Beomgyu leans back against the headboard, “How much time do we have?”

Taehyun checks his watch. “Practice is in… oh. Hours.” He exhales, shaking his head in awe. “This is actually happening. A sold-out stadium, Beomgyu. Can you believe that? Remember that tiny, run-down building we used to train in? The cracked floorboards, the growing mushrooms?” He laughs, eyes distant.

“When Yeonjun used to sneak his soulmate in, trying to show off like he was already famous? As a trainee. And now—now, we’re here.”

Beomgyu snorts. “In that practice room, too. I still don’t know how his soulmate put up with that. Or how Yeonjun didn’t get kicked out.”

“Yeah. They just couldn’t let go of each other.” Taehyun laughs, shaking his head. “And I don't think Big Hit will let go of him too."

It had been one of the first rules drilled into them during training—no soulmates. No... searching. And if they already had one? They had to tell them. Have the conversation. An agreement that would turn everything into a secret.

Soulmates were inevitable, unstoppable. Beomgyu still remembers the contract in his hands, the way he read every word over and over, heart pounding. As if somewhere in the fine print, there was a clause that might hurt his soulmate. In the end, he signed.

If he ever found his soulmate, no one could know. Not until everything was over. In other words, disbandment.

"I'm missing her like crazy these days."

Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away. He just shrugs, tossing things out of his suitcase—a hoodie, a toothbrush, whatever his hands find first. He had noticed how restless Taehyun had been, the way he kept his phone glued to his hands, typing, hesitating, typing again. But what was there to say? What could he do about it?

The others were good at pretending. Hiding. The quiet hotel meetups, the stolen hours between schedules. But if Beomgyu was being honest, he could count on both hands the number of times any of the four had actually been with their soulmates since debut.

The fear of getting caught kept them all in line. Not just by the company, but by the fans. The horror stories weren’t just industry rumours—some were ancient, some recent.

If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know if I can take it. Taehyun had said that once. This career was everything. He wasn’t going to risk it. He wasn't ready. And Beomgyu understood. Everyone understood. He could already picture the protest trucks outside the company building if anyone ever slipped up.

"You heard anything from Heeseung?" Taehyun asks, his voice careful, his fingers tightening around his phone. Beomgyu knows him well enough to catch the shift—the way his mind drifts, went from missing his soulmate to remembering the latest scandal in their world.

Heeseung, the newest idol thrown into the fire.

He, who got caught with his soulmate.

"Yeah," Beomgyu says, swallowing. "He's okay, but… his soulmate is taking the worst of it."

Taehyun stills. The thought of his own soulmate being dragged into something like that—starts to burn at the back of his mind. What if it were her?

"Hey, don't overthink it," Beomgyu says because he sees it. He sees it in all of them. The quiet way they carry it, that they aren’t supposed to want. In their world, the idea that you should be free with your soulmate is just that—an idea. Or maybe worse. A peril. A risk too big to take.

He remembers Soobin crying once, blaming himself for wanting this life—this job. And how, in the end, the only person who could calm him down was his soulmate. The same person the company treated like a liability. Yet, the only one with the power to bring their leader back to himself.

The irony.

He also remembers the night he sat with his dad, asking him how he knew Mom was his. He had tilted his head, recounting their encounter, before he said one thing that stuck with him.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Beomgyu used to cringe at that. Now, he wonders if he'll ever get the chance to feel it.

“Did you see everyone? Insane.” Yeonjun says, eyes wide as they sit in the salon-like chairs. “They’ve been out there since last night.”

Kai glances at him as much as he can without moving his head, his makeup artist carefully blending eyeshadow. “Yeah, I saw them. MOAs are bundled up out there, and it’s freezing. It's worrying me.”

"I feel like I'm about to throw up. I'm nervous,"

Playing a stadium—a sold-out one, this is the dream. The one every trainee chases, the one Beomgyu used to stare at the ceiling imagining, too afraid to believe it could ever be real. And yet, here it is.

His mind pulls him back to the past. The long nights, the aching muscles, the quiet sobs muffled into his pillow. The moments of doubt, the voices—his own, the other's—telling him he wasn’t enough. He remembers how hard they worked. How hard he worked. How many times they shared one meal because they couldn't afford another one. And still, somehow, they held on.

He knows he earned this, and fought for it with everything he had. But standing here now, bathed in the price of it all, it still doesn’t feel real. He stares at his hands once his stylist is done with his eyes. There’s something else tugging at him, a strange feeling that’s been lurking since morning.

What it is, he can’t quite say.

Beomgyu's eyes sweep over the big space. The kind of big that makes his head spin if he thinks about it too much. In a few hours, this place will be much packed. He’s been—on stages just like this, under lights just as bright but somehow, it still knocks the wind out of him.

It's soundcheck. He likes it because, with the lights up, he can actually see everyone. It was one of the rare moments he could see faces. He likes it as much as the offline fan signs. They move through the set, running back and forth across the stage, but his feet keep pulling him toward one side—like an instinct.

Beomgyu likes looking at MOAs. It feels good. Familiar, almost. Sometimes, he even recognizes a face— it was a feeling like a reminder of home, a classmate from school, someone he’d seen before. And then there’s the simple joy of it all. The way someone’s face brightens up because of him. It never gets old. It never stops making him happy, too.

But then, he notices one weird thing.

It’s strange. He’s right here. He could understand if you were looking at another member—fans have their favourites, after all. But you’re not looking at anyone. You're staring at the floor?

You’re not looking at all.

He tilts his head, trying to see better—to get a curious glimpse, and suddenly, his whole world shifts. His heart slams to a stop. It’s so sudden, so overwhelming, he almost stumbles forward, yanking him toward the barricade. "What?"

And then—you move, as if you heard his thoughts.

Just the slightest turn of your head, your face lifting, eyes locking onto his. He stops breathing. His fingers go numb around the mic. Everything slows, softens, blurs at the edges until there’s nothing but this moment. Just the two of you, staring.

The closeness of Beomgyu makes the crowd shift, bodies pressing closer—but you don’t move. You just stand there—still, steady—while the rest of the world shifts around you. Like the last grain of sand in an hourglass, holding on as everything else rushes past.

He swears he would’ve stayed like that forever—frozen, staring, lost—if not for the firm hand on his shoulder. A small tug. He blinks, the spell breaking just enough for reality to slip back in.

"Beomgyu? What's wrong?" Soobin. His leader gives him a look of worry and urgency, and that’s when he hears it, the music. He closes his agape lips, and clears his throat. The song is still playing. Right. He’s supposed to be—

But then his gaze flickers back to you.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. You’re just so so pretty. That’s all. Maybe it was your eyes or your hair or the way you did it. It was just fucking cute. It doesn’t mean anything. And—

His breath falters. He sees it.

He hadn’t noticed before. He had been too busy looking at you. Too caught up in the moment that he missed it entirely. Something all of the members have. Something Beomgyu had waited for his whole life.

The thread.

Thin, and so impossibly red. A string stretched between, glowing faintly under the stage lights. He looks down at his hand—at his ring finger— it's tied there. His eyes trace its path. To you. His chest tightens.

"Before I even saw the string, I knew… it was her."

Soulmate.

You’re his. After everything—after all this time—

He finally found you.

The dressing room is a blur of movement, stylists rushing, last-minute adjustments being made, and voices overlapping but he just sits there. Staring at the floor.

He’s dressed. He’s ready. He should be used to this by now, the pre-show jitters, the nervous energy that always sits in his chest before he steps on stage. But—his soulmate is out there. Somewhere in the crowd. And the thought grips him so tight it almost hurts. What if he never sees you again? What if you’re gone before he can find you?

Your face lingers in his mind, vivid and haunting. The way the lights hit your dress, the way you looked at him—it knocked the breath right out of his lungs. He was completely unprepared for it. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot what he was doing.

He’s never been shaken like that before. Not in his personal life. Not as an idol. Not in school, at the company, on stage, meeting seniors, at award shows—never.

Waiting for the music queue, he finally lifts his head.

Muscle memory takes over. His body knows what to do. He’s trained for this, conditioned for it. Every movement, every note, every expression—it’s muscle memory now. His instincts take over before his thoughts can catch up. This is his life. His career. The one thing he chose, out of everything he could have been. How many people in the world get to do this? To stand under those lights, to hear thousands of voices calling his name, to live a dream most wouldn’t even dare to chase?

Would he trade it all, just to see you again?

His feet move—before he can stop them, despite his thoughts, his heart pulls him stronger toward your section. It's a force beyond his control. When he finally sees you again, it feels like a miracle. You’re still near the barricade, still close enough that he doesn’t have to search.

He keeps up, waves, and makes faces—things for MOAs, things he’s done a thousand times before. But his mind isn’t on them. It’s on you. And you’re just standing there again, frozen in place like you don’t trust yourself to move.

He waves again, but this time, it’s for you. Directly. You tilt your head, hesitant, and then—an unsure wave back. It’s so small, so subtle, but it makes him smile. His grin spreads before he can think twice.

Got you, beautiful.

He pumps his fist in an exaggerated show of triumph, like he just won a game only the two of you are playing. He watches as your eyes go wide, and if the lights weren’t so blinding, he swears he’d see the warmth rising to your cheeks. He fists his hand, trying to hold back from reaching out to you.

He crouches, and the fans around you surge forward, eager to be seen, but you don’t move. You stay there. You don’t reach or push or fight for space. You just look at him.

And then, he sees it—your eyes kept flickering downward, tracing the thread again and again, like you were making sure.

Yet you see it perfectly too.

You smile—small, hesitant, like you’re not sure this is really happening. Then, as if on impulse, you lift your hand, forming a careful, uncertain hand heart.

He doesn’t even wait a second before returning it.

His eagerness made you laugh. A breathless, disbelieving kind of laugh. He can’t hear it, not over the noise of the crowd, but he sees it in the way your shoulders shake, the way your eyes crease at the corners. His chest aches.

You're even more beautiful when you laugh.

He tosses a few kisses out into the air, but he gives his last kiss, the last one to you. You hesitate for only a second before sending one back. His response is instant—dramatic, ridiculous—clutching his chest like you’ve just shot him straight through the heart. He stumbles back, clutches at his clothes, so completely gone for you.

It’s meant to be a joke, but it isn’t.

Because you do have his heart, don’t you? And the strangest thing is, he doesn’t even know your name. Has never heard your voice. But right now, none of that matters. Maybe he’d stay here forever if he could, but the next song cut through the air, pulling him back to the present. His feet move, leading him away—away from you.

Before he joins the centre, just for a second, he looks back. A second to meet your eyes again, to make sure you're watching him.

And you are.

"Hyung," he breathes out.

Soobin turns, both of them standing still as stylists tug their sweat-drenched shirts off, replacing them with fresh ones.

But Beomgyu isn’t thinking about the show anymore.

He’s looking at Soobin. Waiting. Searching for the right way to ask without anyone else catching on. He doesn’t want them to hear. Doesn’t want them to know.

Not yet.

Soobin frowns slightly. “What? You've been looking distracted since earlier. Are you okay?”

Beomgyu’s throat tightens as his stylist tugs at his sleeves, smoothing fabric into place. His eyes flicker down, just for a second. She’s focused on her work, not listening. Still—he lowers his voice.

“Your soulmate…” His eyes flicker down. He hesitates, searching for the right words. The right way to say this. "At—Tokyo? How did you…?"

He doesn’t need to finish the thought. How can the older forget the only time he managed to sneak his soulmate backstage? Soobin stares at Beomgyu. The latter's face is practically screaming his questions. How did you do it? How did you get them backstage? How did you make it happen?

Beomgyu has to see you. In front of him. Next to him. Because what if you disappear? What if he lets this slip through his fingers, and suddenly—you’re just gone? And what if this is his only chance?

The room moves around him—zippers, voices, fabric rustling—but all he can hear is his own ragged breathing. He moves his eyes. And there, watching him is their leader who knows him better than anyone—with that equally knowing look on his face.

"Let's talk. Just the two of us."

Beomgyu is your soulmate.

The boys just disappeared backstage, their song still ringing in your ears, but your hands won’t stop shaking. Your chest is tight, your throat burns, and there’s a sting at the corners of your eyes.

You're not a mistake. He’s here. He saw you.

His eyes, his smile. The way he moves, the faint dimple that appears when he does. The thought is too much—it makes your knees weak, and forces you to grip the barricade to keep yourself upright.

"Girl, I swear Beomgyu kept looking over here," Da-hee says, nudging you, completely oblivious to the storm unraveling in your chest. Then she catches sight of your face—at your trembling fingers, at the way you can’t seem to catch your breath.

“Y/N?” Her voice softens. “What’s wrong?”

The words leave your lips before you can even think. "I saw my soulmate."

Your voice shakes, barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. Her eyes go wide. "Wait, what? Oh my god—where is he? Is he a MOA? Is he—”

She doesn’t even get to finish the thought before she freezes.

It clicks.

Then, slowly, her face shifts—from confusion to shock to absolute disbelief. The finding out, then the realising. She stares at you, her mouth slightly open, her hands hovering in the air like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Oh my fucking god.” Her hands fly to her mouth, like she needs to physically stop herself from screaming. Then she grabs her hair, like that’s going to help her process this.

“Is he—is Beomgyu—” She cuts herself off, whisper-shouting now, eyes darting toward the stage, toward the place where he just was. “Is that why he kept coming back over here?”

Her grip tightens on your arm, searching your face, waiting for you to confirm what she already knows. But you can’t say anything. All you can give is a small nod.

Minutes pass. The music swells and fades, song after song drifting through the speakers.

Da-hee stays by your side, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering reassurances you can’t fully process. At some point, you catch her sniffling into her hands, wiping away her own tears.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of friendship, of growing up together, of knowing each other better than anyone else ever could. She’s seen every version of you—the messy, the broken, the parts of you even you struggled to accept. She’s cried with you, cried for you, carried your grief like it was her own. Even after finding her own soulmate, she never left you behind. Never made you feel like you were missing something, like you were less.

And now—now she’s the reason you’re here.

She’s the reason you met him.

You think of every birthday candle she ever closed her eyes for, every whispered wish she made on your behalf—because she believed that if two people wished for the same thing, the universe had to listen.

And maybe she was right.

It doesn’t matter if he never speaks to you. If the lights were too bright, if the crowd was too big, if he never even saw the thread at all.

It doesn’t matter. Because you saw it.

And that means you were never a mistake. Never some error in the grand design.

He exists.

Da-hee squeezes your hands, grounding you as a woman in staff uniform approaches. Her eyes lock onto yours, scanning your face, your outfit—like she’s confirming, making sure. Then, she stops directly in front of you. “We need to check some information on your tickets.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. You’re not stupid. You know what this is. You know they wouldn’t say it outright, not here, not in front of all these people.

“I—I have a friend with me,”

The staff member hesitates, studying you for a beat too long. Then she nods. “She can come with you, but she’ll have to wait in the holding room.”

You turn to Da-hee, and she’s already looking at you, her eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she forces a wobbly smile.

Let's go.

You’re going to meet Beomgyu.

The walk was terrifying. Your hands clench tighter with every step, nails digging into your palms, but it does nothing to steady you. Every passing glance burns into your skin—people sneaking curious glances—staff members, crew, people who know exactly why you’re here.

Da-hee had to stay behind in the outer lounge. Now, it’s just you and the staff member leading you deeper into the backstage hallways. The air is thick, suffocating, and you force yourself to breathe through it.

Then she stops. A white door stands in front of you. Dressing Room is printed neatly on a sign, but the words blur as your mind spins.

She knocks. Opens it.

Panic rushes in. What if he doesn’t want this? What if he only let you come here to reject you—to tell you, to your face, that even if the universe says you’re meant to be, he doesn’t want you? What if—

The thought vanishes the second you see him.

Beomgyu.

He’s mid-step, like he’s been pacing. He removes his hands from his face, his eyes widening just slightly before he clears his throat. “Come in,” he says, voice softer than you expected. It’s meant for the staff member, but his gaze never left yours.

The staff steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. Heat crawls up your neck as you force yourself to move, hyper-aware of the way he’s watching every step.

“You have 60 minutes, Beomgyu,” she says before closing the door behind you.

Beomgyu stares at you, and you stare back.

For a moment, neither of you move. Just standing there, eyes locked, as if the world has paused just for this. To anyone else, it might look awkward—but you can't look away as he does.

Your eyes traces over his face, bare and fresh like he just washed up. The soft curve of his cheekbones, the freckles and moles scattered like constellations—proof that the universe took its time with him. Perfect in a way that makes your chest ache.

He blinks, and your eyes catch on his lashes—delicate, dark, fluttering against his skin like something out of a dream.

How can someone be made this perfect?

The question lodges itself in your throat, and before you can stop it, your vision blurs. Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away. You don’t even know if he wants this yet—

"What’s your name?" Beomgyu asks, his voice quieter than he expected. He watches the way you blink, the slight parting of your lips like you hadn’t expected him to speak first.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. The urge to reach out—to cup your face, to feel your skin—is overwhelming. But he holds himself back.

Beomgyu has never considered himself the kind of person to take the first step. But not this. Not with you. He wants to start a conversation, anything—to get you talking, to hear your voice, to know you.

"Y/N." The sound of your voice stills him. It settles in his chest, not as something new, but as something he swears he’s always known—like a song he’s heard in a dream, waiting to be remembered. His lips twitch into a small, almost dazed smile.

Your voice is so pretty, he thinks. So pretty that it hurts.

He repeats your name, slower this time, rolling it over his tongue like he’s memorizing the way it feels to say it. And when you smile—just the faintest curve of your lips—his own smile widens into a grin.

"So, uh, hi?" Beomgyu says, and it pulls a laugh from you. His heart stumbles over itself at the sound, warmth blooming in his chest. It’s ridiculous, really, how easily you affect him.

"Did you come here alone?" he asks, trying to steady himself.

"I was with a friend," you say, and his eyes flicker—just for a second—to your lips before settling back on yours. "She’s outside."

"Hm." Beomgyu nods slowly, as if letting the thought settle. Then, slowly, he reaches out—his palm open, facing up, an unspoken invitation for you to give your hand out.

Your breath catches. Hesitation flickers for just a moment before you place your hand in his. Beomgyu feels warmth creep up his neck the second your skin meets, a flush he hopes you don’t notice. His fingers curl gently around yours, testing the weight of your hand in his own.

"Come on," he says, his voice softer now. He tugs you forward—careful, gentle, afraid he's hurt you in any way if he pulls too hard. "You should sit. You must be tired from standing out there."

"I could say the same," you murmur as you both sink into the couch. Beomgyu turns slightly toward you, his knee brushing yours, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. His thumb traces absentminded circles against your skin. "You danced and ran around the stage all night," you add, tilting your head at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and a little breathless. Your eyes drift around the room—clothing racks, scattered bags, the quiet remnants of a space that had been buzzing with energy just minutes ago.

"Yeah, I was pretty tired," he admits. Then, after a pause, softer this time, when you look at him again, he’s already staring. "But not anymore."

Beomgyu takes in everything—your lips, the way the light catches in your eyes, the soft of your hand in his. He doesn’t even think before he speaks, before the thought that’s been looping in his head since he first saw you finally slips past his lips.

"God, you're so beautiful."

Beomgyu watches as your cheeks flush, the warmth creeping up your skin like the slow bloom of dawn. He knew—you were his soulmate. Fates stitched together long before this moment, yet nothing could have prepared him for the way you looked right now. He never imagined that watching you blush under his words would feel this intoxicating.

"You’re the one who’s beautiful," you murmur, barely above a whisper. The words feel foreign on your tongue, yet true in a way that unsettles you. You clear your throat, trying to mask the way your heart stumbles over itself, but Beomgyu only tightens his grip on your hand.

You wonder how you even got here. This morning, you woke up with no idea that by evening, you'd be sitting across from your soulmate, flirting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He chuckles—Beomgyu has heard the word beautiful more times than he can count. It’s been thrown at him in passing, whispered through screams from fans, printed in glossy magazines. But somehow, from your lips, it sounds different.

The next few minutes passed in easy conversation. Beomgyu had already pieced together bits of your life—you were only here because Da-hee dragged you along—he’d been hoping to meet her too, if only to thank her.

He knew you worked a corporate job, that photography was your escape. That you were two years older than him, a fact that he immediately latched onto, whispering noona in a teasing lilt just to see the way you’d roll your eyes laugh and swat his arm. But the truth was, he didn’t want to call you that. It was your name he wanted to say. He felt like he’d already spent a lifetime missing it, and now that he knew it, he never wanted to stop saying it.

You had learned things about him, too. That he’d loved music since he was a kid, that he picked up a guitar before he fully understood its chords. That he was cast as a trainee before he even hit the climax of his teenage years, and that six years had passed since he debuted. Things you could have easily searched online, or you could have read every article, and watched every interview, but nothing made your heart flutter quite like the way he told his own story.

The contrast between your lives was undeniable. Maybe that’s why it took so long for fate to push you toward each other.

While you were drowning in homework, he was in a practice room, chasing a dream. While you sat through lectures and worried about exams, he was in a studio, recording songs that would echo through stadiums. While you cried over a failed job interview, he stayed up until dawn, running through choreography again and again until his legs gave out. Your society—were parallel lines moving in different directions.

But sitting here, watching him scrunch his nose in laughter, none of that seemed to matter. Two people from different worlds, felt like it had faded into one—just by being next to each other.

He hadn’t once let go of your hand for the past hour.

"No, I just—I didn’t know where else to put it, so I stuck it there." You fumble for an excuse, cheeks burning as Beomgyu grins at you. He had spotted the photocard of him tucked into the back of your phone case, and he hadn’t let it go since.

“And it was random,” you add quickly, feeling your face heat up. “You have to randomly pick it.”

The truth is, Beomgyu knows. He knows it was a random selection. He knows you’re flustered. And he loves it. Loves the way you try to explain yourself, loves hearing you ramble, loves the way your face heats up under his stare. And to be honest, if it had been another member’s face staring back at him, no matter how petty it sounded, he also knows he wouldn’t have been too thrilled about it.

He’s in deep.

"Beomgyu, it's time to go." The same staff member says, pulling you both back to reality. You didn't even hear the doors opening. Her eyes flicker to your joined hands for a second, but she doesn’t say anything—just turns and steps outside.

You glance at Beomgyu, and he’s pouting. "We’re flying to Japan tomorrow morning, Y/N."

"Oh." The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. You just met your soulmate, and by morning, he’d be gone. "Okay."

You stand up, expecting him to do the same, but he doesn’t move. Your hands dangle between you because he still hasn’t let go. "Beomgyu?"

"I’ll see you as soon as I get back, okay?" His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to find the right words. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable for a moment, before he finally stands. He squeezes your hands gently. "It won’t be too long."

"Alright… we have each other's numbers, so… text me."

"Just know your phone might be buzzing non-stop,"

"Got it." You roll your eyes, smiling. "I’ll survive."

"And wear warm clothes—it’s winter."

"You too."

"Eat on time."

"You’re the one doing concerts. I should be the one saying that."

He ignores your deflection, pressing on. "Sleep well. Lock your doors properly. You live alone, so it’s dangerous. Don’t go out too late. And if you do, call me, okay? Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t go out too late at all. Please—make sure you don’t—"

He doesn’t get to finish. Before he can say another word, you reach up, sliding your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him into a hug. His words cut off instantly, replaced by a soft inhale—like he hadn’t breathed since he started speaking. Your heart squuezes over itself at his endless concern, spreading through your chest. Blinking rapidly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill.

For the first time tonight, Beomgyu lets go of your hand—only to wrap both arms around you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

"I’ll see you soon, Beomgyu," you murmur.

You feel him tilt his head slightly before pressing a fleeting, warm kiss to your temple. "I’ll see you soon."

Elevators terrify you. It scares you because it feels like everything could come crashing down at any second. Why would you trust something that rises so quickly—too fast?

It can't last, doesn't it?

You feel him snuggle to you more, and you chuckle, pressed against him, his scent, his arms around you, holding you safely—his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek, as if whispering that the fall you fear will never come.

Elevators terrified you.

You wish you could have captured Da-hee’s face when she saw you walking over with Beomgyu beside you, his hand resting firmly on your back. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly agape, before she shot you a knowing look.

Beomgyu offered her a quick thanks, the paper bag with your heels swinging from your hands, and you stood there in the fresh pair of sneakers he’d somehow found in your size—because he wanted to. His eyes met yours for just a second longer before he turned to leave.

The second you stepped into the parking lot, Da-hee lost it. She let out a squeal so loud you had to clamp a hand over her mouth, laughing as she practically vibrated with excitement. "What just happened?!" she whispered against your palm, her eyes sparkling.

That night, as soon as you got home, your phone rang. His name lit up the screen.

It took only a second before answering.

It was awkward at first—neither of you really knowing what to say—but before you knew it, you were talking about everything and nothing, voices laced with exhaustion but neither willing to hang up first. He was leaving in a few hours, and you had to be the one to convince him to sleep, reminding him—more than once—that he had a flight to catch.

You had just curled up in your blankets when your phone buzzed again. Dozy, you reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

Choi Beomgyu I’m sorry for making you wait. I promise we’ll make up for all the time we lost. Sleep well, beautiful.

Even as sleep pulled you under, the smile on your lips never faded.

You wake up to the relentless ringing of your doorbell. A groan slips past your lips as you burrow deeper into your blankets. It’s Sunday. No work. No alarms. Just sleep—at least, that was the plan.

The doorbell rings again.

With an exaggerated sigh, you drag yourself out of bed, doing the bare minimum to look somewhat presentable. Your hair is probably a mess, your face still puffy from sleep, but you don’t care. Whoever decided to disturb your well-earned rest better have a damn good reason.

You glance at the clock on your way out. Oh. It’s not even early—it’s almost 1 PM.

Squinting against the bright light as you crack the door open, you’re met with a sight that instantly wakes you up. A delivery man stands there, arms full, holding the biggest bouquet of red roses you’ve ever seen. The sheer number of petals is overwhelming, a deep sea of crimson spilling over the edges of his grasp.

"What—" Your brain struggles to catch up, and then it clicks. Beomgyu. He asked for your address yesterday.

"Y/N?" The man confirms, struggling under the bouquet.

Your eyes widen. "Damn, just how many are in there?"

"Three hundred and fifteen roses," he says, barely holding onto the mass of flowers. "Please sign here."

Three hundred and fifteen. You’re smiling as you take the pen from him.

You stumble slightly, still half-dazed as you carefully set the massive bouquet down, trying not to crush a single petal. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the small card nestled between the roses, your heart already beating a little too fast.

315 months of not being with you. This won’t make up for it, but I hope it makes you happy.

You inhale sharply. Your chest tightens. 315 months. He counted. Beomgyu counted the exact number of months you’ve been alive—how does he even think like this? Tears prick at your eyes before you can stop them. He’s ridiculous. He’s thoughtful in a way that completely undoes you.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you’re running. Not walking—running. Because suddenly, every second without hearing his voice feels like a second wasted.

Your fingers fumble as you dial his number, pressing the phone to your ear. It barely rings once before the line clicks open—like he had been waiting for this call all along. “Beomgyu—” your voice comes out uneven, breathless.

He chuckles softly, “So… I take it you liked it?”

It’s already 3 PM.

Somehow, you lost track of time, carefully splitting the bundle into smaller arrangements, placing them in vases around your apartment. Now, your living room and kitchen are drenched in the scent of roses—not that you’re complaining.

Beomgyu had stayed on the phone with you the entire time, talking about his morning, his voice in the background as you worked. That is, until someone called for him on the other end, reminding him he had things to do.

You sighed when the call ended. It's sunday, and his sunday is like the worst day of your week. And you're here, resting.

Now, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water still clung to your skin as you stepped onto the cool tile. A shiver ran down your spine as you grabbed a towel, pressing it to your face, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of fabric softener.

Dressed in cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch, remote in one hand, a bowl of yogurt and berries resting on your lap. Television played softly as you mindlessly scrolled through channels, enjoying the quiet.

Until your phone buzzed. You unlocked it, eyes immediately landing on the message.

Nut-job Da-hee. Girl! He's extra glowy today!! OMG <link>

You tapped the link, expecting a video to pop up, but instead, it directed you to download an app. You went along with it, quickly signing in and typing out a cheeky username.

The video loaded—Soobin and Beomgyu, in a hotel room. A small table sat near the camera, cluttered with food containers and drinks. Beomgyu was on the bed, lounging comfortably but still close enough to be part of the frame.

And Da-hee wasn’t exaggerating—he looked good. The black shirt fit him just right, his dark hair falling effortlessly, lips tinted a soft pink. A phone in hand, completely unaware of just how stunning he looked.

An idea sparked in your mind.

"It's not barley tea, MOA," Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head as Soobin insists otherwise. No matter how many times their leader repeats himself, the comments keep flooding in, doubting him.

"Choi Beomgyu really traumatized you, huh?" he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"What do you mean?" Beomgyu argues, but Soobin is already moving on, reading a new comment aloud. "Barley tea is healthy,"

Just then, Beomgyu’s phone buzzes. He glances down at the screen.

My Y/N Live?

His back immediately straightens. Shit. You’re watching? He’s about to type out a response when another message pops up.

You look handsome.

Beomgyu presses a hand over his mouth, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to—

"Beomgyu, MOAs are asking what you're doing," Soobin interrupts, his eyes full of silent curiosity.

"Nothing," Beomgyu says too quickly. "Kai sent a meme." He shifts closer to the camera, Soobin right beside him. With his phone in his hands, he types a message, fully aware that Soobin is peeking at his screen. They probably look ridiculous—both of them staring down at their phones while thousands of people watch.

You're watching?

A few seconds pass before your reply pops up.

Yes.

Beomgyu inhales, trying to focus as Soobin keeps talking. His fingers move instinctively.

I'm shy.

Why? You look good.

A pause. Then another message.

Wait, stop looking at your phone. Let MOA see you? Username: 315flowersmyass.

Beomgyu chokes on a laugh. His lips curl up as he locks his phone and holds it up to the camera, as if to prove he’s done. As if to prove that he followed your words.

"So cute," he sings, the words slipping out without thought. The chat erupts, MOAs spamming hearts and messages.

Then he catches it.

315flowersmyass kekekeke -

His grin stretches wider. He closes his face on the screen. "Hi, MOA." He giggles.

This—this is cute. He’s always enjoyed going live, but now he knows you’re watching, he discovers a love for it he never even knew was possible.

The live eventually comes to an end. As soon as it does, Soobin turns to Beomgyu with a knowing smile. "I'm happy you finally found her," he says simply. Beomgyu doesn’t respond right away—just smiles, warmth spreading through his chest. Then his phone buzzes.

He checks it, and the moment he does, a gasp slips past his lips.

It’s a picture. You.

A snack is held near your face, your expression relaxed. You’re in cozy clothes, looking effortlessly beautiful, breathtaking. The picture made Beomgyu wish he could fly back to you right there and then. Over his shoulder, Soobin leans in. "Is that her?" he asks, then grins. "She's pretty."

Beomgyu doesn’t look away from his phone as his lips curl into a smile.

"She is," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"She’s here."

Ji-an’s voice pulls you from your focus. She’s standing beside your desk, phone pressed to her ear, while you scan last week’s finance report. Your eyes flick over the spreadsheet, catching an error in a formula, but before you can fix it, Ji-an calls your name. "Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. They’re at the door."

"Oh," you murmur, pushing your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose. Contacts felt like too much trouble today. "Thanks."

As you stand, a familiar warmth spreads through your chest. Outside, the delivery man hands you a bouquet—this time, white roses.

You peek at the note while walking back, the click of your heels filling the space. Your way back to your desk by the window. The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the glass, a vast expanse of city lights and open sky.

Ow! I fell! Fell for you~ —bg <3

A laugh escapes before you can stop it—he's so silly. One of the things you realised recently.

"That's the fourth bouquet this month, Y/N," Ji-an muses, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I know you just met your soulmate, but flowers every week? That’s next-level sweet. I’m jealous—mine isn't really a flowers kind of person."

You return her smile, "Yeah, he's the sweetest."

It’s been a month since you met Beomgyu. A single day—that’s all you had together. And yet, in the weeks that followed, he never let distance become an excuse. Even with his tour in full swing, miles stretching endlessly between you, he still found ways to reach you. A call in the middle of the night. A voice note filled with sleepy laughter. And these flowers—his way of saying, I'm here. I'm coming back to you soon.

Ji-an leans against your desk, eyes glinting with curiosity. "So… when do we get to meet him?" she asks, wiggling her brows. "You know the drill—everyone meets everyone’s soulmate. It’s basically tradition. At least one or two quick bond drinks a year, right?"

The playful edge in her voice makes your stomach twist. Because as much as you want to laugh along, to pretend that everything is as simple as it should be… you know the truth.

They can’t meet him. Your friends, your family—none of them can. Maybe not now. Maybe not ever. You don’t even know when you will see him again.

You swallow, forcing down the sudden tightness in your throat. The warmth you felt just moments ago, thinking about him, is now laced with something heavier.

"He's—he's busy," you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. You glance at the bouquet on your desk, fingers tracing the petals as if they hold an answer you don’t have. "Maybe next time."

The day finally ends, and you’re grateful Ji-an didn’t push for more.

You clutch the bouquet a little tighter as you step into the elevator, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air. By the time you make it to the parking lot, exhaustion weighs on you—but then you remember.

You forgot to send a text. Pulling out your phone, you type: I’m heading home now.

The message sends, and a small smile tugs at your lips. Beomgyu is probably fast asleep by now, lost in a time zone opposite yours. He won’t see it for hours, but you text him anyway—because you can already hear his voice in your head, playful and pouty. You forgot to tell me again, he’d whine. Can you please let me know?

You’ve learned a lot from him in such a short time. How simple it is to make someone feel remembered. How easy it is to reach out. How even in the busiest moments, there’s always a second to say, I haven’t forgotten you.

Because that’s what he’s been doing for you all along.

You slip your phone back into your pocket, ready to head to your car when someone stops you. Your steps slow, brows knitting together as your scan lands on a girl—sitting right on the hood of your car.

Your car. She’s perched there like she belongs, fingers idly tracing patterns against the metal.

"Hey," you call out, keeping your voice even. "It’s not really polite to sit on someone else’s car, sweetheart."

Her head lifts, eyes locking onto yours with disdain, "Don't sweetheart me, you slut."

The venom in her words knocks the air from your lungs. Your breath catches, shock flashing through you as she stands. She’s young. Much younger than you.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" she snaps.

Your instincts flare—this isn’t normal. You take a step back, "Leave. Now. Before I call the police."

But she doesn’t move. Instead, she tilts her head, and smirked. "You’re Beomgyu’s soulmate, aren’t you?"

Your body locks up. How does she know? Your fingers tighten around the stems of the flowers, the thorns pressing into your palm. You want to speak, to deny, to do something, but the words won’t come.

Because you know—whatever you say next could make this worse.

She clicks her tongue, taking a slow step toward you. "Do this while I’m still being nice," she says, voice eerily light. "Stay away from him. Or I’ll destroy everything." She tilts her head again, a slow blink. "I’d rather see him ruined than with you, unnie."

She steps past you then, her shoulder knocking into yours just hard enough to make you stumble back. Your hands cold, heart hammering against your ribs. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s a few feet away.

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

I’m heading home now.

Beomgyu rubs the sleep from his eyes, his fingers fumbling for his phone the moment he wakes up. Checking for your messages has become second nature—his first instinct, before he even fully shakes off sleep.

The corners of his lips curl into a soft smile as he reads your text. You remembered.

God, he misses you.

When he gets back, he’s not letting you out of his sight. He’ll beg his company if he has to—anything to steal just a little more time with you. He wants to spoil you, to show up with flowers every single day just to see that shy smile of yours. He’d buy you things you didn’t even know you needed, take pictures of you at every chance, make playlists for you, drag you into late-night game sessions just to hear you laugh and call him ridiculous. Love is effort. That’s what his parents always told him. He’d give it—all of it.

Maybe one day, he’d convince you to visit Daegu with him. Introduce you to his family, let his mom fuss over you, watch his brother tease him relentlessly. And Toto… Would you like Toto?

The thought makes him chuckle as he taps your contact and presses call. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times. His smile falters.

Then, voicemail.

His brows knit together. He tries again. Straight to voicemail. The phone feels heavier in his hand now.

It’s the first time you haven’t picked up.

He’s in the van now. It’s been hours.

Beomgyu grips his phone, scrolling through his notifications, eyes darting to every new alert. His heart lifts for a second—only to sink just as fast when he realizes it’s not you. The screen dims in his hands, but he doesn’t put it down. He can’t.

"You still haven’t heard from her?" Soobin asked. He’s the only one still awake, eyes heavy but observant. Beomgyu hadn’t meant to make it obvious, but he’s never been good at hiding things—not to his members.

"No," Beomgyu mutters, shaking his head. His throat feels tight. "We always talk before she falls asleep."

Soobin exhales, tilting his head back against the seat. "She probably crashed as soon as she got home. Long day, maybe?" He keeps his tone easy, reassuring. "Just focus on later's concert. She’ll probably be awake by then."

Beomgyu nods, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. You’re right. Thanks, hyung."

Soobin claps a hand on his back. "Don't think about it too much."

Beomgyu did his best to push thoughts of you aside during the concert. He smiled, he sang, he danced—gave everything to the stage like he always did. But the second he was backstage, drenched in sweat and breathless from the high of performing, his hands were already reaching for his phone.

Still nothing.

Back at the hotel, Soobin and Yeonjun made sure he ate. He forced down a few bites, just enough to keep them from worrying. Now, fresh from a shower, exhaustion settles deep in his bones. His muscles ache, the weight of the night pressing down on him, but sleep won’t come.

His phone sits beside him on the bed. You’re probably asleep. He tells himself that. He should leave it alone.

But knowing doesn’t stop him from pressing call. It rings.

Once. Twice.

He’s about to give up when the line clicks.

“H-Hello?” Beomgyu stutters, his voice unsteady. No response. His heart pounds as he pulls the phone away, checking the screen just to be sure. The call is still connected. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Beomgyu.” The way you say his name makes his breath catch.

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” He hears you take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” His grip on the phone tightens.

"What is it?"

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” A pause. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

Beomgyu shoots up from where he’s sitting, running a hand through his hair, fingers pulling at the strands. He feels cold all over. His pulse pounds in his ears.

“Where is this coming from?” His voice is raw, edged dangerously close to panic. “What happened, Y/N?”

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” There’s a pause. A beat of silence that feels like a lifetime. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

His chest tightens. “Are you breaking up with me?” The words feel foreign in his mouth. His voice drops to a whisper. “Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

And then the line goes dead.

Beomgyu stares at his screen, his fingers frozen, his mind racing to process what just happened. His chest caves in, breath shaky as he stumbles back onto the bed. And then—he breaks.

His hands cover his face, shoulders trembling as it all crashes down on him. He had a feeling when you didn't answer his call. A whisper of doubt, an inkling of fear.

And now, it’s real.

4 AM, and Beomgyu still hasn’t slept. His eyes burn from exhaustion, but his mind won’t shut off. He’s been texting you, calling you—over and over—but every attempt goes straight to voicemail. At some point, your phone must have died, or worse, you turned it off.

He lies on the stiff hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s unfamiliar. Cold. But then again, when was the last time anything in his life felt familiar? Felt like home?

His phone dings.

He scrambles for it, heartbeat hammering, but before he can check the notification, an unknown number flashes across the screen. It’s stupid to answer an unknown call at this hour. Their managers had given them talks about it. But something—something in his gut—tells him to pick up.

“Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

“Beomgyu.” A pause. Then— “It’s Da-hee,”

His breath catches.

“She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you,” Da-hee says, voice hushed, urgent. “But I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

"Please."

"Don’t think I won’t do it," she murmurs. "Just think about how I knew. Your name. Your workplace. Your parking spot."

She smiles, "Don’t test me."

You take another sip of whiskey, curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest. The tears won’t stop. No matter how many times you wipe them away, they keep coming, slipping down your cheeks, burning just as much as the liquor sliding down your throat.

Your thoughts won’t stop either.

Beomgyu.

He has everything—his dream, his career, a future so bright it could swallow you whole. He has the world at his feet. And you? You’re just… you. Not worth the risk. Not worth the detour. Maybe this was always how it was supposed to be. Maybe that’s why your paths were never meant to cross in the first place. You saw the consequence, felt it when you passed the Hybe building, that heavy reminder of the impossible divide between your worlds.

It should be enough. Enough that you got to know him, enough that he even knows your name. Enough that you get to see him on a screen. It should be enough.

But is it?

“Fuck,” you choke out, voice breaking. You press the heel of your palm against your eyes, as if that could stop the ache. “Just when I finally saw you… What a joke.” You shake your head, wiping your face with the sleeve of your sweater. “The universe is a fucking idiot for ever thinking we were meant to be.”

You take another drink, and it burns.

“Y/N.”

You blink up, vision swimming, to see Da-hee standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

“I’ve been ringing your doorbell,” she says, stepping closer. “I used the spare key—why are you crying?”

You don’t respond. You just stare at her, eyes glassy, cheeks wet. She moves toward you, eyes flickering to the near-empty glass in your hand. You’ve been drinking for hours. You already called in sick to work—there’s no way you could function like this.

"Oh, honey," She sighs, reaches for the glass, and you don’t fight it. You let it go. "What happened?"

“Fate is already taking back what it let me borrow.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but Da-hee hears it. She your holds your hand.

“What are you talking about?” she asks. “Explain.”

You swallow hard. Your throat feels tight, like every word is fighting to stay buried. But you force them out.

“A sasaeng,” you murmur, watching as Da-hee’s eyes widen in alarm. “She found out about me. She knows everything, Da-hee. Where I live, where I work, my family—everything.” You suck in a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. “And the worst of it, she fucking said she’s going to ruin Beomgyu.”

The moment the words leave your lips, your resolve shatters. You cry—like a child finally breaking after being scolded in front of everyone, holding it all in until no one’s around to see. Da-hee pulled you into her arms as you sobbed. You cling to her, hands fisting her sweater. “I have to let him go,” you choke out. “I can’t do this to him. To them. They don’t deserve this.”

Da-hee pulls back, her hands firm on your shoulders. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this alone. We can go to the police. We can tell Beomgyu—”

“And then what?” you cut in, voice hollow. “What can they really do? Stop her from telling the world? Keep every single person quiet? Even if she gets caught, the damage will already be done.”

Da-hee doesn’t answer. She just sinks onto the couch beside you, eyes shining with unshed tears, because she knows you well. She knows you too well—knows that the emotional version of you wouldn’t be able to hear her, not right now. Not until the sobs quiet down and the pain in your chest eases just a little. So, she just holds you.

Your phone screen lights up between you. Another call.

Beomgyu. He’s still calling. Still trying.

"I don’t think it’s best to answer it right now—"

But you don’t listen to Da-hee’s warning. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the screen. You have to end this. Now. While you still have the strength. Because deep down, you know—

If you wake up tomorrow, you might not be able to let him go.

“H-Hello?” He stutters on the other line, his voice unsteady. Your breath catches in your throat. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Everything. Everything is wrong.

“Beomgyu.”

I miss you. How can I go on without you?

“Are you okay? I’ve been—”

“Beomgyu.” You cut him off again, your voice softer this time. “Yeah, I’m… okay.” You take a shaky breath. “I’ve just been thinking for the past couple of hours, and…” You hesitate.

I’m not okay. I’ve been thinking about you, only you, and how my existence could ruin everything you’ve worked for.

"What?" His inhale is sharp, laced with the beginnings of panic.

“Maybe we should lie low for a bit? You’re busy, and you’re at the peak of your career.” You pause, fingers trembling. “It’s not that I’m going away,” you add quickly, desperate to believe your own words. “I’m your soulmate, after all.” The last part is barely a whisper.

I should be replaceable. And I shouldn’t be your priority. You press a hand to your mouth, as if you can keep the words from spilling out—keep the truth from bleeding through.

“Where is this coming from? What happened, Y/N?”

My heart is breaking. And you’re too far away to hold it together.

“Nothing, really,” you say too quickly. “It just… crossed my mind.” You pause, swallowing. “It’s late there. It’s 2 AM. Please sleep.”

Please sleep. And forget about me.

“Are you breaking up with me? Do you not want me? Do you not want this?”

I want you more than anything. That’s why I have to do this. If I can save you from losing everything, I’ll do it. Even if it means losing you.

“Beomgyu, please.” You voice wavers. “Our fate is certain. But right now… I just feel like it’s not working.” You exhale slowly. “You should sleep, okay? Let’s talk again… soon.”

You press the end button.

The sobs rip through you, shaking your whole body and stealing the air from your lungs. You curl in on yourself, pressing your fist to your mouth, as if that could stop the sound, as if that could stop the pain. How can love be this cruel? How can the same thing that made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so hollow?

But this is for him. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a desperate attempt to make it hurt less.

You’ll do this for him. Even if it destroys you.

Da-hee wipes at her eyes, sniffling as she looks at you—curled up in the fetal position, your body tense like you’re bracing for impact even in sleep. She managed to get you into bed, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

She’d do anything for you.

Carefully, she tiptoes to the bedside table and picks up your phone. Her heart pounds. If anyone’s watching me, I’ll beg for forgiveness later. But right now, she comes first.

She types in your usual password. 8888. Incorrect. She frowns, thinking. You changed it? Then, almost without realizing it, her fingers move on their own. 0313. The screen unlocks.

Beomgyu’s birthday.

Da-hee lets out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You idiot,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You love him so much, and yet you’re willing to walk away. How can you be this selfless?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she scrolls through your contacts, searching for his name. Her thumb hovers over it for only a second before she types his number on her own phone.

You’ll be furious. You might never forgive her. But if there’s even the slightest chance this stops you from making the biggest mistake of your life—she’ll take that risk.

Someone has to tell him the things that you can’t.

The line connects, and Da-hee inhales. “She’s going to be angry if she finds out I called you, but I can’t just sit back and watch this happen. Just listen to me. I’m going to tell you everything—from the start.”

She’ll prepare her apology later—more than that, she hopes Beomgyu will fight for you.

"I want to go home." Beomgyu’s voice is firm, but his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His manager looks up from his laptop, brows furrowing.

The door bursts open. Soobin stumbles in, slightly out of breath—he must’ve run after him. Beomgyu doesn’t care.

Beomgyu already knows everything—Da-hee told him. Every sickening detail. And now, standing here, he has no idea how to fix this. No idol has ever come out of this unscathed. But none of that matters right now. His only priority is getting to you.

His manager sighs, already exasperated. “You’re flying back home in a few days, Beomgyu.”

“No,” he says, jaw tightening. “I mean now. I need a few days. To rest. To handle something personal.”

“You know your schedule is packed—”

“Then move everything,” Beomgyu interrupts sharply. He feels Soobin’s hand on his shoulder, hears his name spoken softly, but he shrugs it off. No one is stopping him from getting to you.

His manager sighs again, firmer this time. “We can’t do that.”

“You won’t even try?” His voice wavers between frustration and desperation. “You won’t even let the management know?”

“We can’t make last-minute changes like this.”

Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Of course.” He clenches his fists. All his life, he’s done everything they asked. Pushed through exhaustion, smiled through sickness, showed up even when his body begged him to stop. “I won’t follow you on this,” he says, voice steady. “I can’t do this. Not this time. If you won’t let me go, I’ll still leave.”

“Beomgyu, let’s talk about this when you’re calm,” Soobin says gently, patting Beomgyu’s back. “Please.”

Beomgyu turns to him, his eyes dark with frustration. “I love MOAs, hyung. I love all of you. They gave me everything.” His voice wavers, but he pushes through. “But Y/N… she is my everything.” His breath hitches. He can't even explain it properly. How badly he needs you. “You’re lucky. All of you. Your soulmates—"

“So this is about your soulmate?” The manager exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Don’t you see? She’s making you choose between her and your career.”

“No.” Beomgyu’s voice breaks, his chest tightens, and the lump in his throat is unbearable. “She’s not making me choose. She’s already choosing for me.” His next breath is shaky. “She’s leaving. Can you let your own soulmate leave?”

The room falls silent. Soobin watches him, stunned. He’d never seen Beomgyu like this before—this angry, this desperate. And the question stings the older.

Beomgyu turns away, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Explaining further is useless. He’s already said everything that matters. Nothing is going to stop him now. When he steps into the hallway, he sees Yeonjun standing there, leaning against the wall.

He’s been listening the whole time.

Yeonjun immediately reaches out, tugging at his arm. “Yah, Choi Beomgyu, come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s talk with everyone.” Beomgyu exhales shakily. If there's anyone he owes an explanation. It's them. His brothers.

So Beomgyu told them everything.

About the sasaeng. About the threats. About how you were walking away to protect him. About how he refused to let that happen. And just like he knew they would, the four of them listened—not as bandmates, not as colleagues, but as brothers.

No one understood him better than they did.

They didn’t tell him to reconsider. They didn’t tell him to stay. Instead, they held onto him, arms wrapped tight, as if they could shield him from the storm that was already brewing. They prayed—not for him to change his mind, but for the world to understand.

Kai was the first to break. His voice barely above a whisper, “Is it really worth it… if the world doesn’t want us to have soulmates?”

It shattered something in all of them.

Beomgyu didn’t answer—not with words. Because what kind of world was it, where love had to be hidden? Where choosing your own heart felt like a betrayal?

With the help of his members, he managed to slip through the cracks, securing a last-minute flight. Now, as he sat on the plane, adjusting his mask, pulling his cap low, he caught his own reflection in the window.

Maybe it was time. Time to stop pretending. Time to stop hiding.

Because an idol in love isn’t supposed to be shameful. Because having a soulmate shouldn’t be treated like a scandal. Because loving you would never make him love his dream any less.

He just had to believe in MOAs. In the people who gave him everything. What he has with them, he treasures so much that the thought of baring his heart isn’t impossible.

And he would.

Completely.

He would trade it all, just to see you again.

The pounding in your head hasn’t let up, a dull, relentless throb that even the hot shower couldn’t wash away. You pop an aspirin, sighing as you press your fingertips against your temples, willing the ache—and everything else—to disappear.

Then the doorbell rings. Right. The food.

Dragging your feet toward the door, you barely think as you swing it open—then freeze.

Choi Beomgyu.

His face bare, a backpack slung over his shoulder. A car idles in your driveway, but you barely process it. Your eyes lock onto the messy strands of blonde peeking out from under his hoodie, his gaze searching yours. He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

“Y/N—” The door slams shut in his face before he can say another word.

Your breath stumbles. Your pulse pounds. The damp strands of your hair cling to your neck as you press your back against the door, fingers gripping the handle like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. Shit. He fucking looks good with his new dyed hair— wait. Don't think about that. What is he doing here?

“I’m parked out front,” his voice comes through the door, muffled but you hear it. “I just want to talk.” A shaky inhale. Then softer, “Baby, I’m here. When you’re ready, just open the door.”

His footsteps retreat.

You start pacing, your heart ricocheting against your ribs. He’s here. He came all this way. After everything you stupidly said. You hurt him yet—

The doorbell rings again.

You yank it open, “Wait, my ass—”

“Chinese takeout for Y/N?” The delivery guy blinks at you, holding up the bag.

“Oh.” You blush, embarrassed. You fumble for your wallet, signing the receipt with shaky hands. Your eyes keep drifting past him, toward the car still parked in front of your house.

Just like what he said. He's there.

The hours slip away unnoticed, morning fading seamlessly into afternoon. Every time you steal a glance through the curtain, he’s still there. Evening creeps in as you start making dinner. Without thinking, you plate portions for two. Your hands hesitate over the dishes, your heart heavy. When you check the clock, it’s 8 p.m. He’s been outside for twelve hours—silent, waiting.

Just like he promised. He never knocked again. Twelve hours. Your hands tremble as you turn off the stove. He must’ve just come from another gruelling day, looking like he’d stepped off a plane after hours in the air—rumpled, drained, and still without rest.

Why did you let him wait this long?

You don’t stop to think anymore. You grab your keys, shove your feet into your slippers, and head straight for his car, blinking back the tears that blur your vision.

He must see you coming because, before you even reach him, the car door swings open.

And there he is.

His hoodie is pushed back now, his hair slightly dishevelled like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times. His face is drawn, exhausted. His eyes—red-rimmed, heavy, like he’s been crying for hours. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Come inside,” Your voice cracks, but you don’t stop. You just turn around and head back toward the door. You don’t have to look back to know he’s following.

He steps inside, his tall frame filling the space as you quietly shut the door behind him. Your apartment looks small with him around. When you turn, your eyes meet, "Beomgyu—"

You barely get his name out before he’s on you. He can't stop himself anymore. It’s how you looked outside, so effortless—your hair pinned up, the simplicity of your everyday clothes, and yet, you somehow seemed untouchable. He envisions a life with you, a routine, your soft smile waiting for him when he comes home, you looking like something angelic—his hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been starved for you. His mouth moves against yours, claiming, taking.

His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slides against yours. His hands roam down, gripping, pulling, making sure you feel every bit of him. He grabs your wrists, lifting them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath ragged as he nips your sensitive skin. "I missed you," he murmurs. Another kiss—hotter, deeper, his body pressing your back against the wall. "I got fucking scared you'd never open the door."

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress.

"I get it. I know you don’t mean it—that you really believe this is for the best." His voice softens, almost breaking. He presses his crotch to yours, eyes seeking yours. "But did it ever cross your mind what I want? What I think is best for me? For us?"

“I'm sorry,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve.

"I'll always forgive you." His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. He grinds desperately to you. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word as he captures your lips again and again. "Because your words could never hurt me as much as your leaving does."

You surrendered to his touch, your body softening beneath him. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, which groaned under your shifting weight. You reached for Beomgyu’s lips, catching him off guard as you kissed him with everything you had, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your middle and sending a shiver through you. But even in the haze of his taste, a heavy guilt settled in your chest. "Gyu,"

"I need you, baby. Or I'll go crazy." His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours. Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with adoration and awe as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He's on top of you, looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, seeking the place where the string was tied. The red thread appears, and he lifts it to his lips. A kiss—featherlight, reverent—pressed against the place where destiny tied you to him.

“It's going to be okay…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers shakily reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly rubbing, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of.

"I'll fix it for us, for you." He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. He’s going to fuck you until you cum all over his dick and then he’ll do it again. Until you won't be able to think about leaving him anymore. He goes down further—kisses down and the smell of you is divine.

His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows—salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste so—He buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you were really gonna leave me? And I was gonna miss this?" He groans, lapping up, sucking the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles more. His cock throbs with every taste of you, the way you melt against his mouth driving him insane. He feels you slick against his chin, but he doesn’t stop—doesn’t leave a single inch of you untouched by his warm, greedy mouth. It was as if your body had been crafted for his lips alone, flesh and heat meant to be devoured at his leisure.

When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.

“I love you,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—"I'm sorry it took this long."

"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, please." His touch was gentle even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,"

“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.

"Beomgyu, I— It was selfish of me—" You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw.

“Shh, no,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head. "None of this is your fault," he murmurs. "But you have to trust me now."

All the horrors inside you dissolve with every kiss he presses to your skin, each one stripping away the fear, the doubt, the self-imposed distance. He kisses you like he’s rewriting everything, like he knows exactly where every shattered piece of you belongs. As if he’s memorized the map of your ruin and decided, you were always meant to be whole.

And you let him.

Because now, in his arms, with his lips claiming yours over and over, only pulls away when breathing becomes a necessity—his forehead pressing against yours for a fleeting second before his mouth finds yours again, as if letting go for too long might break him, you realise the truth—it was foolish of you to think that pushing him away would solve it all.

It was foolish to ever believe you could ever live without him.

Waking up with Beomgyu’s arm draped over your bare waist felt like something out of a dream.

The second you tried to slip away, he pulled you right back in, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a sleepy rough hum. His grip was loose but unwilling, like even in sleep, he couldn’t bear to let you go. He filled your morning with lazy kisses, tangled limbs, and muffled laughter, his fingers tracing over your bare skin.

You could live a lifetime like this and still never believe it was real.

Now, you sit at your vanity, dressed for work, fastening an earring as Beomgyu, fresh from the shower, tugs on a clean hoodie. He catches your eye in the mirror and grins as he walks over. “What are you doing baby? Dolled up and all.”

“Drying my hair,” you say, “I’m actually early today. Da-hee is dropping by later too, by the way.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He leans down, eyes flickering to the hairdryer on the desk. He picks it up, flipping it on. “I know how to do this.”

You give him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I could probably do your makeup too.” He presses a teasing kiss to your cheek, making you giggle.

The warmth of the dryer was against your scalp as he carefully runs his fingers through your hair, drying it with surprising patience. His touch lingers even after the dryer clicks off, his fingers gently gathering strands of your hair.

“I used to braid my mom’s hair when I was younger,” he murmurs. “I want to do yours too.” You nod, watching him through the mirror, watching the way he looks at you with so much quiet devotion it nearly steals your breath. "It will be an honour to do this every day for you, you know."

And just like that, you fall in love all over again.

You sit in the passenger seat, your hair loosely braided—the proof that he wasn’t just bluffing. His fingers lace with yours as he drives, his thumb idly tracing circles against your skin. Every time the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you,”

He grins, that same cheeky, heart-stopping smile. "Love you more," he replies.

You let out a quiet breath, leaning your head against the window, watching the world blur past. But then—out of the corner of your eye—you see it.

And your breath catches in your throat.

Rain Lilies.

Flowers that shine the brightest in the wake of the storm.

It looks out of place. You remembered last night’s rain. It had come down in furious sheets, drowning the streets, washing everything away. The pavement is still slick, puddles reflecting the grey morning sky. And yet—there it is.

Small. Alive.

In the middle of a city that never stops, where people rush past without a second glance, too busy to care about a thing so insignificant, so easily overlooked—it stands, untouched. A quiet defiance against the cruelty that tried to take it.

It looks out of place, and it's beautiful.

If something this fragile can survive and still bloom—maybe, just maybe, so can you.

"Hyung!" Beomgyu’s laughter rings through the air as he runs straight into his brother’s arms. They embrace, laughing like they’re kids again, the older one attempting to lift him off the ground. Behind them, his parents rush to catch up, smiles stretched wide across their faces. The house, with its endless stretch of green, looks like out of a memory—soft, a paradise.

Beomgyu turns to you then, his hand resting gently on your back. His eyes soft when he speaks.

"Mom, Dad," he says, "This is Y/N."

You bow politely, but before you can even rise fully, his mother pulls you into a hug. "I’ve wanted to meet you for so long, dear," she murmurs against your shoulder.

When Beomgyu’s father steps forward, you feel your chest tighten. He smiles, and for a second, it’s like looking at Beomgyu in the years to come. His hug is just as warm, just as safe.

Lunch is a blur of laughter and stories, of hands brushing, of Beomgyu sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking.

His parents laugh along with your stories—the one about meeting his sweet members, and how Da-hee had begged to meet them in person. You describe her pale face, wide-eyed and on the verge of fainting the entire time, and how Beomgyu grew irritated every time Yeonjun jokingly flirted with you, insisting he should be your favorite.

But it’s the story of Beomgyu meeting your family last week that really gets them, how he’d been so polite, yet adorably nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he tried to make the right impression.

His mom grins, her eyes bright with excitement. “I’ll have to meet them soon,” she says, already making plans in her head, as if you’ve always been part of the family. At some point, Beomgyu tells them you’ll be staying for the week. They are overjoyed, and Toto, takes an instant liking to you.

Beomgyu sits on the porch, it's evening now.

This deck—he’s spent years here—on this very step, staring out at the world, wondering when he’d find you. Wondering if he ever would.

His fingers tighten around the handwritten letter on his phone screen, the words waiting to be sent out into the world. His heart pounds. What if they don’t understand? What if this changes everything? What if—

Laughter drifts from inside the house, yours mixing with his mom’s, his brother’s. It was the only assurance he'd ever need.

He exhales sharply, thumb hovering for only a second longer before he clicks post. It loads. He doesn’t watch. Just locks his phone and sets it aside as the front door creaks open.

"You’re trying to escape me, cookie?" Your voice is playful, arms crossing as you step toward him. Beomgyu only grins, shaking his head at the nickname his father gave him. He slips an arm around your shoulders as soon as you sit down, pulling you while he presses kisses on the side of your head.

"Never," His fingers find yours, a new habit of his—thumb caressing over your ring finger. His thoughts slip to the diamond ring hidden in his dorm, the one he bought after a week of meeting you. He just needs to find the right moment, the right words. Because even now, after everything, you still make him nervous. The way his heart races when you walk into a room, how everything seems to stop for a moment when you look his way.

He meets your smile with one of his own. Would he ever be this lucky in another life? To find you, to love you—not by destiny’s design, not by some divine script, but by choice?

Even without a soulmate mark, even without fate—

It would always be you.

Maybe in another world, the sky is burning, the world is ending, an apocalypse, and he still falls in love with you. Maybe in another life, he is a man undone, a husband who shatters more than he mends, but even then, he would spend eternity piecing himself back together just to be worthy of you.

Beomgyu knows this much: no matter the lifetime, no matter the universe, he will love you. Again and again, without hesitation, without end. As if loving you is written into the very fabric of his existence.

His fingers graze your cheek, and you lean into him like you were always meant to—like the universe has been bringing you back to him for centuries. Your smile reaches your eyes, soft and certain. His missing piece. The better half of him.

Beomgyu looks at you, and to him, you are something that comes after the rain—the hush of the earth reborn, the golden light breaking through the clouds, the promise that even the chaos was worth it.

He can’t help himself. Not when you’re looking at him like that. Not when your smile is the only thing he ever wants to see.

So he leans in.

The phone sits forgotten, lighting up with messages—teary words, heartfelt congratulations, the world calling for him. But none of it matters.

Because right now, you are in his arms. Right now, he is kissing the soft of your addicting lips. And right now, that is all that ever was, all that ever is, all that ever will be.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @beombunni @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @xylatox @imlonelydontsendhelp @yunverie @baekberrie @soobabby @hyunelixbun @kejingken @blossommi @sumzysworld @tyunningstar @filmnings @channieismylove @frankghgr @missychief1404 @fatbixchwithanopinion @saejinniestar @brrytears @sbnslver @hoefororeo @pagelets @urlocal-moa @ewsnup @moagyuu @melmochii

[defnotririi]

Chapter 1.

One year since the apocalypse started, one year since everything had fallen apart. Y/N was barely surviving all alone, her crew leaving her to die. But something happened, something she never thought would happen. A group of seven boys found her. Saving her life.

Word count: 7k

Pairing: enemy!Ni-ki x Y/N

Genre: dystopian, apocalypse, survival, horror if you use a magnifying glass, enemies to lovers, ANGST

Status: on going/12-02-25

Warnings: Everything that comes with an apocalypse. (Do let me know if there's anything else tho <3)

Disclaimer: this is a fanfic based on imagination, nothing of this is real. If you feel uncomfortable with reading something like that, please leave. If any part of the stories is similar to a book, then it's either inspired (in which, credits will be given) or just coincidence since there's no much things to write about an apocalypse.

Author's note: this is my first ever long fanfic, so please be patient with me 😭🙏

Credits: There's a fanfic in Tumblr that's called Safe and Sound, mine wasn't inspired by this one, it was inspired by a wattpad story! But since the two stories are almost the same the credits go the the creator of Safe and sound! <3

The world had ended long before Y/N realized she was truly alone. The apocalypse had turned friends into enemies, trust into a liability, and survival into a constant battle. Betrayal had left her with nothing but wounds—both the kind that bled and the kind that didn’t.

She had been part of a group once. She fought alongside them, protected them, and believed they would do the same. But when supplies ran low and desperation grew thick in the air, they turned on her.

"You're slowing us down," they had said, as if her exhaustion, her injuries, her loyalty meant nothing. They left her behind, bleeding and defenseless against the hordes of undead roaming the streets.

For days, Y/N barely survived, her body pushed beyond its limits. Infection threatened to take hold of her untreated wounds, and hunger gnawed at her insides like a beast. She had accepted that this might be the end.

Then they found her.

A group of seven boys. Armed, well-fed, wary.

And they hated her.

Jungwon stood at the front of the group, his dark eyes filled with calculation as he stared down at the half-conscious girl on the pavement.

"She’s injured," Jake observed, crouching beside her to check her wounds.

"And she’s a liability," Ni-ki snapped, gripping his knife tightly. His jaw was clenched in irritation. "We don’t need dead weight."

"She’s barely alive," Heeseung muttered, arms crossed. "She won’t last long anyway."

"Should we just leave her?" Sunghoon asked, though there was no sympathy in his tone—just a practical coldness that had been necessary for survival.

Y/N forced her eyes open. "P-Please..." Her voice was weak, hoarse from days of dehydration. "I can... I can help..."

Jay scoffed, gripping his rifle. "Help? You can’t even stand."

"You should be grateful we haven’t shot you yet," Sunoo muttered, sharp-eyed as he studied her. He was the smart one, always thinking ahead. "For all we know, you could be working for another group. You could turn on us."

The words struck deeper than any wound. She had already been betrayed—how could they think she would do the same?

But they didn’t trust her. And why should they?

Jungwon sighed. "Jake, can you patch her up enough so she doesn’t die in the next hour?"

Jake hesitated before nodding. "I’ll do what I can."

Ni-ki let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. But the second she becomes a problem, I’m ending this."

Staying with the boys was no easy task. They were cold, distant, and saw her as nothing more than a burden.

Ni-ki, especially, made it known that he didn’t want her around.

"You should just leave," he told her one night as they rested in an abandoned gas station. "We don’t need you slowing us down."

She didn’t argue. She was too exhausted.

But she wasn’t weak.

She forced herself to heal. She learned to keep up with them. She fought, scavenged, and proved she wasn’t just some helpless girl.

Yet, they still treated her like an outsider.

Jungwon never let her make decisions. Heeseung ignored her input on routes. Jay barely spoke to her unless it was about weapons. Sunghoon was indifferent. Sunoo was suspicious. Jake was the only one who treated her with some decency.

And Ni-ki? He openly despised her.

"Why do you even bother?" he sneered one morning as she sharpened a knife. "No matter how much you try, you’ll never really be part of us."

Y/N met his glare with tired eyes. "I don’t need to be part of you. I just need to survive."

He scoffed. "Good luck with that."

Everything changed the night the horde came.

They had set up camp in an abandoned school, thinking they were safe. They weren’t.

The moans of the undead filled the air, the sound of shuffling bodies growing closer.

"We need to move—now!" Jungwon ordered, grabbing his weapon.

The group scrambled, fighting off the zombies that broke through the windows. Y/N didn’t hesitate—she grabbed her knife and fought alongside them.

Jay fired shot after shot, Sunghoon took down the infected with brutal efficiency, and Heeseung led them through the chaos.

Then Y/N saw it.

A zombie lunging at Ni-ki from behind.

Without thinking, she threw herself forward, tackling it to the ground before it could sink its teeth into him. The creature snarled beneath her, snapping its rotten jaws, but she plunged her knife into its skull.

Silence.

Ni-ki stared at her, eyes wide, breath uneven.

She had saved him.

After that night, things changed.

Ni-ki avoided her—but not out of hatred. He didn’t know how to look at her anymore.

Jake started talking to her more. "That was impressive," he admitted as he cleaned a wound on her arm. "Not many people would’ve done that."

"She still could’ve let him die," Jay muttered, but there was less bite in his words.

Y/N just shrugged. "I don’t leave people behind."

The words hit deeper than she intended.

Jungwon, ever the leader, nodded. "Maybe we misjudged you."

Maybe. But trust was hard-earned.

Over time, the tension faded.

Heeseung started asking for her input on maps. Sunoo actually smiled at her once. Sunghoon trained with her. Jay let her handle a gun.

And Ni-ki?

He still avoided her sometimes, but he no longer looked at her with pure hatred. One night, as they sat by the fire, he finally spoke.

"You’re not as useless as I thought," he muttered.

Y/N smirked. "Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

They still had a long way to go. The world was still broken, and danger lurked in every shadow.

But for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t alone.

And maybe—just maybe—she had found a place to belong.

Hunting had become easier now that the group had started trusting Y/N—at least, most of them. She was walking beside Heeseung, scanning the abandoned city outskirts for any movement. They needed food, and after days of barely scraping by, they couldn’t afford to come back empty-handed.

"You’re quieter than usual," Heeseung noted, adjusting the strap of his rifle.

Y/N shrugged. "Just thinking."

"About?"

She hesitated. "Ni-ki. He still doesn’t trust me, does he?"

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, glancing at her. "It’s not about you."

Y/N frowned. "Then what is it?"

For a while, he didn’t answer. The only sound was the wind moving through the abandoned streets, the distant echoes of the dead somewhere far off. Then, in a quiet voice, Heeseung finally said, "A few months ago, we found someone. A guy. He was injured, desperate—just like you."

Y/N’s stomach tightened. "What happened?"

Heeseung’s grip on his gun tightened. "We took him in. Ni-ki didn’t trust him from the start, but the rest of us thought he deserved a chance." He sighed, his expression dark. "He proved Ni-ki right."

Y/N swallowed.

"He killed someone we loved," Heeseung continued, his voice heavy with something deeper than anger—grief. "Ni-ki’s best friend. The one person he trusted most in this world. He used her as a threat, he wanted our supplies but even when we gave him what he wanted... He killed her Infront of us."

Y/N’s breath hitched. No wonder Ni-ki looked at her like she was a threat. No wonder he flinched whenever she got too close.

"I’m not him," she whispered.

"I know," Heeseung said, looking at her. "But Ni-ki doesn’t. Not yet."

Y/N didn’t say anything else. She just looked ahead, gripping the knife at her side a little tighter.

That night, as Y/N stood outside on watch duty, she heard a voice.

"Well, well. Didn’t expect to see a new face here."

She turned sharply, hand flying to her knife. A man stood near the trees, partially hidden in the shadows. He was grinning.

"Who are you?" Y/N demanded.

The man tilted his head. "No one important. But I was once." His smirk widened. "You’re in their little group now, huh? Let me guess—Ni-ki hates you?"

Her blood ran cold.

He chuckled. "Figures. He never did trust easy. But you? You remind me of myself."

"I’m nothing like you."

He raised his hands. "Sure, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night." His eyes darkened. "Tell them I said hello."

Then he disappeared into the woods.

Y/N stood frozen, heart pounding.

A twig snapped behind her. She turned—Ni-ki stood there, eyes wild with panic. He had heard everything.

"Ni-ki—"

But before she could say anything, he bolted.

By the time they realized Ni-ki was gone, it was too late.

"He went after him," Jay growled, gripping his gun.

"Alone?" Jungwon’s expression was hard, unreadable. "Damn it."

"We need to go," Jake said. "Now."

They ran. Through the woods, past the old buildings, tracking Ni-ki’s footprints in the dirt.

Then they found it.

A body—no, a man. Crawling. His leg was covered in blood, a bullet wound in his thigh. He was screaming, trying to drag himself away.

And behind him, the dead were coming.

Ni-ki stood there, watching, gun lowered.

"He’s done," he muttered.

They should have left him.

They didn’t.

Jungwon fired a shot, killing a zombie before it could reach the injured man. He looked at Ni-ki, furious. "We don’t leave people to be eaten alive."

"He deserved it," Ni-ki spat.

"That’s not the point!"

But the damage was done. The man lived. Barely. And vengeance never dies.

Days passed. They thought it was over. That they were safe.

Then the attack came.

The man had returned—with people. Armed. Dangerous.

Gunshots rang out in the night.

"They found us!" Sunghoon shouted, grabbing his knife.

"Move!" Jungwon ordered. "We have to leave—now!"

The camp burned. Supplies were lost. But they had no choice.

They ran.

And as Y/N looked back one last time, she saw him. The man Ni-ki had left to die.

Grinning.

Because this wasn’t over.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the abandoned city as Y/N and Ni-ki walked in silence. The others had sent them out to hunt, but the air between them was thick with unspoken tension.

Ni-ki hadn’t spoken much since the night he had confronted the person responsible for his best friend’s fate. He had thought that justice would bring closure—but instead, it left an emptiness inside him, one that gnawed at his chest like the dangers lurking in the ruins.

"You’re quiet," Y/N finally said, breaking the silence.

"So are you," he muttered, kicking a stray rock.

She hesitated before speaking again. "You did what you had to do."

Ni-ki’s jaw tightened. "I left them to their fate."

"They deserved worse," Y/N said without hesitation.

His head snapped toward her, surprise flashing in his dark eyes.

"If it were me," she continued, gripping her knife tighter, "I would’ve done the same. No—worse."

Ni-ki stared at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But there was none.

For so long, he had felt alone in his anger, in his need for justice. But now? Someone understood.

And for the first time, guilt twisted inside him.

"You’re not like me," he said quietly.

"Maybe I am," Y/N replied, meeting his gaze. "And maybe that’s not a bad thing."

Ni-ki looked away. He didn’t know if he should feel relieved or afraid.

By the time they returned to camp, something was wrong.

The fire was still burning. Their supplies were scattered. But the air was too still.

"Where are they?" Y/N whispered, reaching for her knife.

A rustle. A footstep.

Then—

A hand grabbed Ni-ki from behind, shoving him to the ground. Another wrapped around Y/N’s arm, forcing her back.

Strangers. Armed. Dangerous.

"Well, well," a gruff voice sneered. "The last two left."

Y/N’s heart pounded as she struggled. She could see them now—the others. Jungwon, Jay, Heeseung, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake. Tied up, bruised.

Trapped.

"Let them go," Ni-ki growled, struggling against his captor.

The man holding Y/N chuckled. "Oh, you’re not in a position to make demands, kid." He pressed a weapon against her ribs. "But since you’re here, we’ve got a better deal. How about this?"

He looked at the rest of the group.

"One of you doesn’t make it. The rest get to leave."

Silence.

Y/N’s stomach twisted. She could see it—the way Jungwon was already calculating, the way Jake’s hands clenched, the way Sunghoon was shifting on his feet, ready to fight.

Then she made her choice.

"Take me," Y/N said.

Ni-ki’s head snapped toward her. "What?"

"You want someone gone, right?" she said to the man, voice steady despite the fear clawing at her throat. "Then take me."

The man grinned. "Brave. But foolish."

He pulled the trigger.

A shot rang out.

But Y/N never felt it.

Because Ni-ki had stepped in front of her.

The bullet tore through him, his body jerking as he collapsed to the ground.

"Ni-ki!" Y/N screamed, catching him before he hit the dirt.

The world blurred. The shouting. The chaos.

She didn’t care.

All she could see was Ni-ki, his face pale, his breath shaky.

"You idiot," she choked, pressing her hands to the wound.

He gritted his teeth, his grip on her tightening. "Told you... you’re not like me."

Then his eyes fluttered closed.

And the fight wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

[choccy-zefirka]

Local Qunari, with no formal schooling and background in smuggling, treasure hunting and lollygagging, gets a magic awakening at age 31. Has some questions

The ink-splattered notes are written in a heavy, clumsy hand, clearly unused to holding a quill for long, if at all

SO I'M A MAGE. NOW WHAT?

THINGS TO ASK EMMRICH

The title has been underlined three times. The letters are huge and sprawling at first, but towards the last two words, they end up careening into a chicken scratch waterfall off the page's right margin. The writer has woefully miscalculated how much space everything would take.

Underneath the title, a blotchy vertical line splits the page in two columns. The left-hand side reads:

STUPID KVECHINS QUESTIONS

Magic comes from hands. Do I need special hand balms like for Taash's throat?

I get really hungry after doing spells. Is this normal? It this because magic tires you out? Do you need a diet? Different foods for different spells? Also does magic make food taste different? Maybe I'm making it all about food cos I'm dumb

Can bigger people make stronger magic? Or does it get weaker, cos the bigger you are, the smaller your brain That's what they told me

Is there a spell to lift heavy things? NOT FOR WORKOUT CHEATING! My strength is the only part of me anyone cares about. Course I train honestly! I mean things like huge boulders. Or maybe even boats? Say I grab a boat with Antaam with magic and Taash sets them on fire.

Lords had a story about a Vint mage that made a path from ice on the sea under her feet. Chased their ship for miles. Can you do that? Can I do that?

Is there a spell for breathing underwater? I am still bad at swimming

I was once running from the guards with a mage fella from the Threads. They had us cornered, one got me with a sword, but he killed them all with lightning. It sort of jumped in between the guards, thru their armor and weapons. Thru the metal. I wanted to ask... Does it hurt when you do spells? Cos of your rings and bracelets. I am kinda worried

Neve does spells like she is writing something down with her little ice stick. Bellara shoots spell arrows. You make it look like music. Did you decide on your — your style I guess? Or did it just come to you? I am sorry if my style looks awful next to yours. You are so beautiful to look at

Is there a list of smart words you need to know, to start reading about magic? I wanna try again, but I am afraid to even start. You helped me so much last time, I wish I was smarter so you'd actually wanna talk to me more

The column on the right-hand side is labelled, now with double-checked spelling:

NON-STUPID QUESTIONS.

It has been left blank — but another, more practiced writer has circled all the questions on the left in a large, elegant oval. An arrow extends from the oval, pointing right: moving all the questions from one section to the other. Inscribed underneath it in neat round curls, is a message:

Dear Rook,

It will be a privilege to share all I know!

I cannot wait to see you again have another conversation

E

[imsadstuff]

A Royal Romance - A Jungkook and Royal OC Fic (Part 1)

Synopsis: The royal family of Korea changes reigns with a tragic assassination. Crowns are thrust upon the heads of people who never imagined this life. It is a story of many couples, the queen and her prince consort, a king and queen in waiting, a princess and her forced arrangement with Jungkook, but also a disgraced formal royal Yoongi and his boyfriend Jimin. Read along and see how it all unfolds.

Genre: Royalty, Romance, Angst, Love Triangle, lots and lots of romance

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, drinking and drugs, death of side characters, there are mentions of death of parents, some cursing

Word Count: 40K+ (I write long fics what can I say)

Author Note: So, I've decided that the sane thing to do is post the fic in two parts, what I was worried about is the unregulated traction fics in parts get, but it's insane to put an 80k+ fic all in one go. I've also taken a lot of liberties with establishing a Korean royal family, but it is not to offend anyone, it is all for creativity. I hope you enjoy this labour of my love, like, comment, and tell me all the things you loved and didn't! Anyway, enjoy reading!

AO3 Link - if you wish to read this on ao3, enjoy!!

2019

The chill Friday night hits them on the face as they step out from the bar to smoke. A box of removed from a suit jacket pocket and cigarettes are passes around to the rest of the group while the rest get back to their vapes. People talk about clients, money that was made today, dip in the market that happened last week, predictions for next week. These people spend well over 80 hours together every day and mostly talk about work, that’s all they know to do.

“You’re quiet today, what’s up?” Aiden asks as she continues to check something on her phone, her cousin got engaged last night and the group chat is filled with pictures from the glamourous night.

“Nothing, it’s just been a long week” Sarah says as she takes a long drag off her vape and shuts off her phone, deciding to call her cousin tomorrow morning.

Aiden knows somethings bothering her, he wants to reach out and comfort her but he just can’t, not with people around. That why he takes the opportunity to pull her away as the group orders their 5th round of beer.

“Hey” Aiden says as the two of them stand in a quiet, secluded corner of the bar, his arm drape around her waist and she looks up at him with the same flat face she’s had all day.

“You’re oddly quiet today, did I do something wrong?” Aiden asks and Sarah just rests her head on his chest.

“My favourite cousin is getting engaged today and I really wanted to be there but I couldn’t be, I feel so bad for missing this major event in his life” Sarah shares as Aiden rakes his fingers through her hair.

“You have a favourite cousin? Also, why couldn’t you be there? I would have approved that leave” Aiden says the last thing with a playful chuckle and Sarah just gives him a sarcastic look as she pulls her head up.

“Because my mother and her brother, my cousin’s father haven’t been on talking terms for the last few years, we’re basically not supposed to talk with that part of the family. If I went, it would be this whole thing with my mother and I just don’t have the energy for that” Sarah shares and the same sadness returns to her face.

“That’s, um, complicated, how about we leave and go to my place, I’ve got something at my place that’ll definitely help you feel better” Aiden says in a suggestive manner and Sarah just laughs, so ready to leave this dive bar.

Picking pizza on their way home feels like the best decision ever as Sarah takes the biggest puff off the joint, passing it to Aiden. The two of them cuddle even closer as the wind gets colder, smoking on the balcony is definitely always a bad decision.

“You feel better now?” Aiden asks, putting out the rest of the joint for later. Sarah doesn’t say anything, but she does turn around to place a soft kiss on his warm lips.

“So, you wanna go away the next weekend, my place in the Hamptons is ready just in time for Autumn” Aiden asks as the two of them make their way in. Sarah has done this a few times at his apartment now, she walks into the kitchen as starts reheating the pizza like she’s done before.

“You’re my boss Aiden, you have to know that we have to submit the quarterly growth report the following Monday” Sarah says as she looks in the pantry for some kind of hot sauce.

“I’m telling not you this as your boss, but I put Peter in charge of that so that we could go away” Aiden looks at the scandalous look on Sarah’s face as he laughs and removes the tabasco sauce she’s been looking for.

“Why’d you do that?” Sarah asks as he continues to get some drinks for them, Aiden just shrugs as he walks back into the living room. Sarah just follows him watching the 6 feet man get comfortable on his sofa.

“Aiden, you could get in real trouble if people at work found out we’re involved. I mean, I would be in trouble, but not as much as you would be as a senior partner” Sarah says as she hands him a plate with a slice on it and nestling right where she was.

“Why are you so scared to say that we’re dating? Involved with each other? What is it going to be next, you’re just a friend who sleeps over at my place five times a week?” Aiden says as he takes the biggest bite of the pizza.

“I didn’t want to come off to needy by having the ‘what are we’ conversation, you should have just been a man and asked me if you can be by boyfriend” Sarah teases as she stands up and takes a seat on his lap.

“Oh, how sexist of you, I thought you were a modern feminist woman, remember that speech you gave when a client called you sweetheart” Aiden recalls and Sarah just chuckles as she steals his pizza.

“I’ve never seen a white man that scared of a 5’2 Korean woma-“ Aiden stops talking as the front door bursts open, the two of them look shocked as men in military uniform with guns in their hands file into the room.

“Sorry for the intrusion but I’ve been calling you for the past hour and it’s a matter of your security” a man in a suit says as he walks closer to the couple. Sarah stands with confusion on her face, still looking around the room.

“Namjoon what happened?” Sarah asks pulling her robe even tighter. Namjoon looks behind at Aiden and then looks back at her.

“Mr Smith can you give us a minute, I need to discuss some highly sensitive details with her Royal Highness Princess ___” Namjoon talks and Aiden’s confusion just grows.

“What?” Aiden mumbles mostly to himself as he stays still on the sofa. Sarah takes a seat beside him, taking his hands into hers.

“She’s been using an assumed name in the States, she’s actually-“ “Namjoon can you shut the fuck up and give us some space, and get these snipers out of here, I’m sure I’m not in grave danger” ___ intervenes and Namjoon just nods as he takes a step back and does what he was told.

“My mother is the twin sister of the current King of Korea, we moved to the states when I was 4 because my father wanted us to live a sorta normal life. Sarah is just a name I thought fit me when I was 4, it was the name of my baby sitter” ___ shares as she laughs at the last part. She looks up at the room, watching as the men in uniform file out of the room, not brave enough to look at Aiden yet.

“So, um, you’re ___?” “Actually, the correct protocol for you to address her is Your Royal Highness Princess ___ and there after Your Royal Highness” Namjoon intervenes once again as he just stands there.

“You don’t need to do that and can you give Namjoon and I a minute, he wouldn’t have broken in if it wasn’t life and death” ___ asks and Aiden just wordlessly walks into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

“I think I have been pretty clear-“ “Your Highness, we do not have time, I need you to get to safety now, things will be explained then” Namjoon says as he picks up her jacket and places it in her lap.

“Is it my brothers, is it my parents, what is wrong?” ___ asks with a small voice, the worst scenarios flashing into her mind.

“It’s not them, but it is very serious” Namjoon is usually a strong, confident man, but tonight, he looks shaken up.

“Where is he, everyone’s here but him” ___ asks Namjoon as the rest of her family walk into the jet. Her father has the same shaken face Namjoon did and it’s not easing her one bit.

“He’s was in London, he’s on his way to Seoul right now” Namjoon says as the rest of the security team walks into the jet. There’re just confused and anxious faces all around, and the unrest just grows

“So, as of the last we know of the situation, a team of assassins broke into the blue palace’s ball room during the engagement dinner. Security blackout protocol was put into place as soon as the first gun shot was heard, so we haven’t been made aware of the escalation yet.” A man ___ has never seen before announces to the family and her mother clutches onto her even tighter as tears escape her eyes.

“We’ll reach Seoul in the next ten hours, all your cell phones and personal devices have been seized by the security team to make sure we aren’t being tracked. I’ll notify you as we get more information, but in the meantime let’s just hope that the royal family is safe” the man with a stone-cold face says and ___ can’t believe that this isn’t a nightmare.

There is a pit in ___’s stomach as soon as the jet it takes off. ___’s father and elder brother continue talking to the security detail as ___ sister-in-law holds her daughter tight and her mother sits motionless.

There’s stillness in the air as the family walks on the tarmac, without much questioning they get into separate cars to a location that they don’t know about. Namjoon is quite through the ride, ___ not having any energy to ask him anything anyway either.

The car pulls into one of the royal estate outside Seoul, one ___ grew up in. Once again, the family takes a seat in the formal living room, waiting for the head of security to share some details.

“So, we now know all the details of the situation. The late king was shot in his cheat twice, he passed away on the way to the hospital.” The head of security stops talking for a second to catch a breath as he wipes a tear that escaped his eye.

“Prince Eugene was shot in his chest and leg and is in surgery right now. His late fiancé, Ms. Yuri Lee was also shot on her chest, and passed away in the royal ball room.” He continues talking and ___ can hear her mother and sister-in-law sobbing away.

“The Queen has a gunshot in her arm and is currently under surgery as well, The Queen Mother wasn’t harmed by the gunmen” the word late king are still ringing in ___’s head as she tried to take deep breaths to calm herself.

The security head continues talking as ___ spaces out, her head is spinning and she wants to lay down. She has flashes of the pictures her cousin sent her just earlier that day, how happy he was when they talked to each other earlier that week, how hope full he was, how much he was looking forward to his life and pregnant fiancé.

“What hospital is Eugene at? I want to be there when he wakes up” ___ finally talks and the all the people turn around to look at her strangely.

“Ma’am it’s critical to your security that you don’t leave the premises” Namjoon speaks from beside her and she looks around as the rest of room agrees with him.

“My cousin who just lost his pregnant fiancé is under life threatening conditions and I want to be there by his side to comfort him, I’m not integral to the royal lineage anyway” ___’s voice is agitated as she looks at her mother and older brother, Wonik.

“___ you’re being irrational and emotional right now-“ “Yes, I’m being irrational and emotional because loved family members passed away and the one I love the most might be too, aren’t I allowed to be irrational and emotional right now” ___ shouts as she cuts off her brother and he just gives her a resign look as her mother walks closer to talk to her.

“You should go, Eugene needs family right now, Mr Park send the maximum-security detail with her, Namjoon, stay by her side. Take care” she says as she brushes her hands and people around them get to work on her mother’s orders.

There is this eerie silence in the hospital hallways as ___ paces around. She restless and needs a cigarette but she’s too dazed to ask for it. The red-light indicating operation in-progress is giving her a migraine but she can’t look away.

“Do we know where in the chest he was shot?” ___ asks and Namjoon goes back to the security report he was handed the second they entered the hospital.

“A quarter centimetre away from the royal prince’s heart” she hears and takes a seat, there’s no clear thought in her head, she’s trying to imagine him coming out of there alive but she’s never been a positive person.

It’s somewhere around 9 am when ___ jerks herself awake and feels a jacket over her and a head on her shoulder. Her eyes barely register him at first but she completely does in a second.

“Yoongi?” she asks mostly to herself, thinking this is some kind of nightmare. The minute it completely registers to her, she engulfs her brother in a tight hug, tears finally escaping her eyes.

“He’s going to make it, I’m sure, he’s always been a fighter” Yoongi mumbles to her as he pulls away to wipe off her tears. There’s thick silence in the room as ___ rests her shoulder on her older brother’s shoulders.

___ is laying in her childhood room as the doors open and a group of people. A Woman lay out black dresses for her to choose from, as another opens the curtains and other lays out a fresh set of breakfast.

“Ma’am the funeral service is scheduled for 9 am, and you’re expected to be there by 8:30. It’s 7 am right now and it important that you’re on time.” Her lady-in-waiting tells her as ___ rests her back against the headboard. It’s been a week since this nightmare started and it’s been non-stop string of heartbreaks and bad news.

“You are expected to be presentable with a bit of makeup as the press might photograph you but no bright makeup” Sora continues talking as ___ reads a string of texts from Aiden on her phone.

“I’m fully capable of dressing for a funeral for half my family, can you all please give me some privacy” ___’s voice sounds broken as the women walk out the room and close the door behind them.

She stands up and draws the curtains back to stop the sunlight from coming in, walking into her bathroom, she lights a cigarette as she looks at herself in the mirror. She looks sick and the tears haven’t stopped since she broke down in front of a team of doctors at the hospital. Eugene, his fiancé, her uncle and aunt had been dead for a week, her mother had been accessed as the Queen. In a matter of week, her world had been flipped upside down.

Yoongi is waiting in the entryway for the rest of his family to arrive, he fixes his tie for the nth time tomorrow as he fidgets. He hadn’t seen most of his family for the past few years and he constantly feels nauseous, at the brink of throwing up. He observes as his niece is holding her nanny’s hand as she prompts them to walk towards him.

Yoongi had only seen the three-year-old Jia in pictures ___ sent him every now and then. Jia finishes eating her banana as she studies Yoongi and he’s feeling more and more uncomfortable as she walks towards them.

“My mother told me that you’re my uncle” Jia finally speaks as the nanny goes to throw away the banana peel. Yoongi just nods and Jia stands very still and very close to him.

“Why didn’t you come to my birthday parties, aunty ___ always came and brought me the biggest presents and she would always buy me flowers too, she told me they were presents from my uncle, are you that uncle?” Jia asks with a small voice and Yoongi is a bit too stunned to hear this.

“I think so, I’m sorry for missing your birthdays, I lived kinda far away” Yoongi lies about the last part but is very earnest about the first parts. Jia just nods as she contemplates but it ends with a smile.

“It’s okay, I kept the flowers by my bed. How did you know sunflowers are my favourite?” Jia asks and Yoongi cracks a smile as well, he noticed how similar their smiles are.

“___ told me” he shares and the three year old nods in agreement, Yoongi is expecting another question from her but she simply reaches over to fix his tie. Yoongi is taken aback and maybe flinches a bit but just looks down at her tiny hands centring his tie.

“My dad’s tie is always a bit at the side, he asks me to fix it for him sometimes” Jia shares and Yoongi is feeling less and less nervous, but there’s more sound coming towards the hallway and he tenses up.

“I miss my friends, mom tells me that we’re going to have to live in Seoul forever and I don’t want to” Jia shares and the sound of heels towards them intensifies.

“I’m sure your friends miss you as well,” Yoongi says not addressing the last part of the question, he doesn’t want to be selfish and think about that right now but it’s been eating him alive.

Two people walk into entryway at the same time, ___ and Jia’s nanny and he’s a bit eased by them, especially ___. Yoongi looks at her sister with worry, he can smell the cigarettes on her as she takes a seat beside him. Jia lights up seeing her aunt and immediately reaches to hold her aunt.

“I found out that he is sunflower uncle, he does kind of look like a sunflower” Jia shares and ___ cracks a smile. The nauseous feeling is almost gone but returns back as Yoongi looks up to see his parents and brother and sister-in-law ready and walking towards them as well.

There isn’t much talking as everyone stiffly hears to the security detail tell them the plans for the morning. His mother constantly has her forehead wrinkles and all he wants to do is ask if she’s okay, but how can she be okay right now.

Yoongi feels like an outsider watching his family discussing something, he watches as his brother picks up his daughter and hug her tightly, his father trying to comfort her sister as another tear slips out hear eyes as they walk to where the service is happening. He’s a few paces behind them, they’re so used to him not being around, and it is all his doing.

Wonik has written a beautiful eulogy for their family, he’s already acting like a king in making and it’s strange to Yoongi, these were never supposed to be their roles. ___ is following her father as they get some last-minute work done before people start arriving. This isn’t the Min family he remembers, they look functional and loving from an outsider’s perspective.

Yoongi is blankly staring at his family at work as he takes a seat at his assigned seat. He’s too zoned out to notice Haein, his brother’s wife take a seat beside him.

“Jia was telling me all about meeting you today” Haein shares and Yoongi just shares a pleased smile, even tho it might be inappropriate right now. There’s awkwardness between them because Yoongi barely knows her, the last time he saw Haein was at their wedding, he remembers that night very vividly.

“I always read about your music label in the news, works been good?” Haein continues the conversation and Yoongi nods before clearing his throat to speak.

“Yes, it’s been fulfilling. ___ told me you got promoted at the firm before all this happened” Yoongi is biting his tongue as soon as he says that, because Haein’s face only falls more.

“Yes, but this is our life now” she says as she watches his husband discuss something with her mother.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up” “It’s alright, this is all a tragedy out of our control” Haein responds with a melancholic look and Yoongi just nods looking at his sweaty hands.

The funeral and service are exhausting physically added onto the mental exhaustion. Midway through the service ___ makes a beeline towards one of the back door hoping it provides her with some privacy.

She swings the door open to a man in a suit smoking in the corner, he had the same ideas as she did. She looks behind her as she shuts the door, and the sound of that immediately alerts the man.

“I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?” ___ asks as she takes a seat on a bench facing him. The man is alert, too alert, like he forgot what the royal protocol is.

“No, you aren’t Your Royal Highness” the man in a crisp black suit says and ___ chuckles, not used to all this formality yet.

“Can I borrow a smoke? My brother has confiscated my pack” ___ asks with an extended hand, like this is more of an order than a request. The man wordlessly hands him a fresh cigarette and bends down to light it for her. ___ watches as he very cautiously comes close, he’s close enough for her to see a scar on his cheek.

“I don’t know you, so you’re not from my extended family” ___ states and the man looks at her with confusion for a split second before it registers to him.

“Yes, late Prince Eugene was a senior with me in college, he is like a mentor to me, was” the man says, repeating the last part mostly to himself.

“That, um-“ “You don’t have to comfort me your royal highness, I’m sure you’re grieving immensely too” the man interrupts her and ___ just takes a long drag.

“What’s your name, maybe Eugene talked to me about you?” ___ asks after a few seconds of silence and he’s about to answer when the door burst open, ___ turns around to see Namjoon.

“Ma’am your mother is about to go talk to the press and make the speech, you’re supposed to stand with her for support” Namjoon says and ___ immediately jumps to her feet.

“Yes, thank you for this and the talk, can I ask one last favour from you?” ___ asks as she smooth’s out her dress and put out her cigarette.

“Can I steal the pack off you? I have a long afternoon and I can’t just go and buy myself a pack” ___ asks and the man complies with a small smile handing the pack of cigarettes and lighter.

“Take care” the man says and ___ mumbles a small thank you before turning away.

It’s been a month, a long, long month of doing nothing. The residence had the prime minister, business men, financial advisors for the country and other countless important people coming out and in. The siblings have been laying low, Yoongi is getting used to being around family but he desperately wants to go back to his studio in New York. ___ has officially resigned from her job at the hedge fund she started just six months ago. Wonik is still the working for his tech firm, but he’s probably going to have to resign and Haein who barely started as a junior partner at her law firm has quit her job. Their mother, who was a professor of sociology at NYU is now the working as the head of the nation as the queen and lastly their father, part owner and CFO of a hedge fund is in the process of selling in his shares. This bunch of highly successful working people have now been sequestered in their Seoul mansion.

Today was just another day of the week, ___ didn’t even know it was Monday till her lady-in-waiting Sora reminded her of it. It was an important Monday because the family had been called together to have a joint meeting with the press team.

“Hello Jia and Yoongi” ___ says as she enters the dining room and watches the uncle and niece duo who had bonded quite a lot eating breakfast.

“Can I have a toast of sourdough, scrambled eggs with two eggs, half an avocado and chilli oil on the side, also my two shots of espresso with a splash of milk.” ___ asks the cook who nods and goes into the kitchen to get her breakfast going.

“What are your plans for today?” ___ asks Yoongi but Jia is the one who starts talking.

“I am going to a new pre-school today and then I have Korean lessons and then my mom promised me that we will bake a cake before dinner” the four-year-old shares, ___ and Yoongi have delighted smiles on their faces.

“Wow a three-year-old has a more eventful day then me, how about you oppa?” ___ asks and Yoongi hurriedly chews before answering.

“I have a few meetings with a new artist that joined and discussions about an upcoming album, before that we have that press meeting thing, and later I’ve asked to talk to mom and dad about something” Yoongi answers as he takes another big bite of this delicious breakfast.

“Talk about what?” ___ asks as she continues to sip on her water, her skin’s been taking the hit of all the smoking lately and she’s been trying to be healthy. Yoongi doesn’t answer but he rather looks at Jia who’s been done with her breakfast and then at her nanny to take her. The two of them mumble a few good lucks and love you’s as their niece excitedly leaves for school.

“I need to talk to them about returning to New York before we’re assigned any royal duties. I have to, they need me back there, I have so many projects open that need to be delivered soon” Yoongi’s voice is stressed as he shares, he’s been working non-stop since they day they were given back their laptops.

“So, what’s the plan, are you going to like, leave the royal family?” ___ asks with genuine curiosity as the cook brings her food and coffee.

“I haven’t been a part of the family for 7 years now, I don’t think I am a part of this family anymore” Yoongi says more as a matter of fact and that hurts ___ a little.

“They were unsupportive of you wanting to do music, yes. They were very strange when you came out, most definitely, doesn’t mean you’re not a part of this family anymore” ___ says with a soft voice and Yoongi finally looks up from his breakfast.

“___ the world isn’t ready for a gay member in the royal family, if I leave it’s going to be easier for all of us. Imagine the outrage and backlash mom would get, I can’t put her through that” Yoongi says and ___ has altogether stopped eating.

“I’m just not going to be a royal anymore, I’ll still be your brother, I’m still your family” Yoongi reassures with a comforting tap on her hand, prompting her to eat.

“Mom has you and Wonik here, Wonik is already coming into shape as the future king, there’s no space for me here. I have nothing to offer here and I have a boyfriend and business waiting for me in New York.” This is the most Yoongi has talked in the last month, ___ is glad that he’s talking but she doesn’t love the news.

“Okay, have me there when you have the talk, you’re going to need back up with dad” ___ says and Yoongi nods and both of them go back to eating their breakfast.

“Hey, I need to talk to dad before we have the meeting” ___ says to her father’s assistant who just nods and checking a few things on the computer and then standing up to knock on his door.

“___, what do you want to talk about?” her father is in an oddly chirpy mood and it’s throwing ___ off.

“Yoongi is going to come in with a request later to you and mom and I need you guys to be parents rather than members of the royal family” ___ asks as he takes a seat behind the desk.

“What is it?” “He’s going to ask to leave the royal family and I need you guys to let him” ___ asks and her father has a shocked look on his face.

“Why-“ “Father he has a major business-“ “So did I ___, that’s not reason enough to walk away from this” “He’s been publicly out as a gay man for years, he has a loving boyfriend you think the press and people of Korea are going to be kind to him, the news is going to rip his to shreds, it’s going to break him and I don’t want my brother to go through that I hope you guys don’t want your son to go that either” ___’s voice goes up a bit as she stands firm on what he’s saying.

“Leaving the royal family is much more intense than when he left home, there are protocols and procedures in place, I don’t think this is feasible for Yoongi, or anyone right now” her father retorts and ___ sighs, the problems they had in the past seem like champagne problems compared to right now.

“We have to find a way for him, you and mom can’t force Yoongi into royal duties. If he doesn’t leave with a good relationship with you and mom, the thin thread that joins him to this family is going to break” Mr Min feels a tinge of guilt due to ___’s words, he knows what she’s saying is right.

“But-“ “No dad, he’s planning on leaving nevertheless, won’t it be better if you make the process a happier one for him” ___ pleads and her father takes a deep breath.

“If he leaves right now it’s going to make the monarchy look weak, worse homophobic” her father says in a small voice and ___ sighs taking a seat.

“Then let’s not word it as him leaving the royal family, just him continuing to pursue his business and life. We never expected this to happen, our family had a very low probability, we have lived our lives so far as if this was never going to happen to us. Put that out, ask people to be kind as you let your son live out the life he wants to” ___ says and her father nods in agreement with her.

“Why did you come to me with this rather than your mother?” Mr Min asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Because I came to you in the past about him and you didn’t take me seriously and things turned pretty sour. Because I wanted to give you a chance to be a better father to Yoongi” this time he does let the guilt show on his face and ___ can see it very clearly.

“It still isn’t a great look for us, one of the children leaving the royal family even before your mother is coronated” Mr Min says and ___ sighs with aggravation, this is not a winning game, some body has to lose and she’s going to make sure it’s not going to be Yoongi.

“Dad, have you seen the articles written about him already? Have you seen the kind of articles written about me. We’ve been living our lives as tho we were never a part of the royal family and all of sudden you want us to be royals. You married into this, you chose this, we didn’t” ___ has tried to not let the articles get to her, but it’s starting to.

“You were born into this, this is your birth right” He states boldly, getting agitated himself. ___ knows arguing is going to get them nowhere.

“If you mother and I were to let him leave, what would we get in return?” “A chance to fix your relationship with your son” ___ answers but by the look on his face she knows it’s the wrong one.

“I have a proposition, if, hypothetically, we were to agree to let him leave, you in turn would comply and agree with all the tasks, duties and asks that come with being a royal princess, no debating, absolutely no arguing” Mr Min knows his son is difficult and doesn’t always agree, but he also knows that her daughter will fight things to no end if she doesn’t want to do it.

“So, Yoongi’s freedom will cost mine” “Absolutely not, I’m not taking away your freedom, I just want a conformation from you that all the tasks, duties and decisions that come with securing your position as the royal princess, you’ll do them with all of your heart” he may frame it differently all he wanted, but it was still one’s freedom for the cost of another’s.

“I don’t understand why you want me to agree to this, do you really think I’m not capable of being a great fucking royal princess” ___’s getting agitates, all this talk of tasks and duties is pissing her off a bit.

“Because ___, I know that you’re mad, I know you’re so angry at this twist of fate and I know that seeing your brother walk away from this will make you want to as well, and I absolutely can’t allow that” he can read his daughter pretty well, and the crossing of arms were a clear indication of her trying to not be angry.

“So, in return, you want me agree to all the ideas and decisions that you’ll want to make for me in the future, correct” ___ finally words it and Mr Min has a guilty look on his face as he nods a yes.

“I can do that for my brother”

The father and daughter are late to the press meeting and heads turn to them as they take seats in the family room.

“What have the two of you been up to?” ___’s mom asks and her father answers before she can. “___ just wanted me to look over her termination contract, everything is in proper shape and good to go”

“Okay, now before we start with this, I just want to say a few things, I know that last few weeks have been difficult and unexpected. But I am grateful to have you all by my side, my sons and daughters and especially my husband, you all have rallied around me and helped me navigate through this difficult time. I never expected to be the Queen, it was supposed to be my brother, then Eugene and their family so forth. I am not prepared for this role, I may be immensely educated but yet I am not ready for this. But I am going to need you all to fill in everywhere that I am lacking and I hope that we’re all able to serve our birthright as the members of the royal family” the queen says with a stern voice, she’s in much better shape than she was a few weeks ago.

“Thank you, your majesty, for the words, we’ll all be keeping those in our minds. I am Kim Sera, head of the press office for the Queen’s office, but right now, due to the situation, my office will be working for the entire royal family. For now, the country and the family is in mourning for the tragic loss that we’ve faced, the media is being soft with us, but as many of you do know, they have not been so. We’re in the process of dropping your US citizenships, and conversations around this have been bubbling already. With every piece of word that’s spoken by you, every action, the American-ness needs to not be there, absolutely no talking to the press or citizens in English, only and only Korean” the woman in a sharp blue suit says and a lot of what she’s saying is worrying Yoongi.

“For each of you, I have a file of what encompasses as royal duties for you. There are allotments based on your previous work, role in the family and most importantly the age of the country that resonates with you. Have a look at it, understand what your duties are and most importantly, if you have any special interests that you wish to venture into, we’d be happy to facilitate it” she continues talking and ___ sits up straight as an assistant hands her a thick file.

Ms Kim goes on and on about do and don’t what brands they can and can’t wear, what their social media’s are going to look like, boundaries with people they knew previously and much more invasive topics. ___ tunes in again as New York is mentioned again.

“As per the Queens recommendation, Princess Haein and Princess ___ along with a team will be flying to New York to facilitate the move process, all the possible arrangements have been made. They are scheduled to leave this Thursday and return a week after, please have a look at your security protocol for being abroad” Ms Kim says and another file in handed to ___.

“This is all from my end for now, I’ll be back with more details on your royal duties. Any questions for now?” Ms Kim asks and it’s just a room of blank faces who have to digest a lot of information. She just nods, bows and leaves with the rest of her team.

“Haein remember to take the codes of all our safes, I don’t have a list of all the jewellery but there are these specific earrings that I do need for my first appearance” the queen asks and Haein nods, already taking notes.

“I’ve arranged a real estate agent to sell our apartment in the city, have you both decided what to do with yours?” Wonik asks, looking specifically at their mother. Their New York City apartment was very precious to the family, they grew up there, the Queen really came into her own in that house.

“Let’s just keep it for now, we have decided to keep all our assets as is for now” their father answers and the queen nods with a conflicted look on her face.

“Have you had dinner yet?” a voice booms from the door and Yoongi turns around to see his mother standing in his doorway.

“I haven’t, I’m not hungry” Yoongi answers sitting up straight and putting away his laptop immediately. Theres this tension in the Queens eyes as she takes a seat on the bed besides him.

“You don’t eat a lot, you’ve gotten so thin” she says and Yoongi chuckles, looking up for a second, every time he sees her, he just sees how similar they look.

“How’s work been? Are they able to manage without you?” she asks and Yoongi goes back to the mental notes he’s taken for this exact talk.

“Busy, hectic, but they’ve been managing, barely” Yoongi says and the queen nods in understanding.

“I really liked the last song that you worked on, Moonlight. I read that you wrote and produced it” he’s caught off guard by this, and doesn’t do well with hiding his surprised face.

“Most of the music you work on is rap and pop which I don’t understand, but that ballad is beautiful” she continues talking and there’s this feeling of approval that Yoongi is feeling that he didn’t even know he could.

“I didn’t know you listened to music I work on” Yoongi says and his mother just nods as she rubs her hands together.

“I’m sorry” she mutters and a tear escapes her eye and it shakes Yoongi up, not expecting any of this.

“We could have been better parents to you, been more supportive, more loving” she says as she looks at him intensely and that’s what gets Yoongi teary eyed too. He doesn’t know what to say, he barely talked to his mother in the last 7 years, it’s like he’s forgotten how to.

“The lyrics you write are so full of hurt and agony, it breaks my heart” she keeps talking as she wipes her tear and reaches for her son’s hands. There’s a thick silence as she brushes his rough hands, she wonders why they’re so rough.

“But I don’t want this estrangement between us anymore, it physically hurts me when I can’t muster up the courage to pick up the phone and ask you how you are, if you’ve eaten, wish you a happy birthday” a sob escapes her mouth as she thinks back to all the time she’s missed out on. Yoongi wants to say something, comfort his mother, but all he does is stay frozen as a few more tears trail down his cheeks.

“Do you hate us now, have we damaged this relationship past a point of repair?” she asks and Yoongi can feel her eyes on him, for a moment he lifts his head. The sincerity and sorrow on her face is evident and he had to bite his lip to stop a sob.

“No,” his voice is small as he lets go of her hand and stands up to get the two of them some tissues. He sits back, a bit closer as he watches his mother wipe away tears and try and compose herself.

“Now, I know you wanted to talk to your father and I together, but I wanted to come and talk to you myself in an attempt to be a better mother and queen” she stops talking for a second to wipe off the last of tears.

“I discussed with your father and I hope that you like this proposition as well. As you know, members of the royal family aren’t allowed to have businesses and work other than their royal duties. And I understand and realise the hard work and years you’ve put in building your music label. So, I would be happy to let you continue your work in New York.” She says and a sense of ease washes over Yoongi.

“In order for you to do that, you’d unfortunately not anymore be a part of the royal family or be in line for the throne” she continues and Yoongi nods with understanding.

“I was going to ask you both for the exact same thing, your blessing to exit the royal family” Yoongi confesses with a faint smile on his face, grateful for how things are working out.

“But you’ll still be a part of our family, and I want you to be a part of lives, be our son, brother and uncle” she says and Yoongi nods aggressively.

“Would it be okay if this announcement came out in a few months, if I do it right now it would look like the monarchy is weak” “Of course, and I am sorry too, for making your job much harder, there is probably going to be speculation about this, articles about me and who I choose to love” there’s a strain in his voice as he says the last part.

“That’s the least of my worries,” she says and both their eyes focus on his phone that is lighting up on his phone, she is particularly focused on the picture man he’s hugging on his lockscreen.

“This brings me to the last thing I wanted to discuss” she says and Yoongi sits up straight once again, not remembering anything else they had to discuss.

“We’ve decided instead of selling our brownstone we gift it to you so that you live there and I’m assuming here, with him” she says as she points to his lockscreen. Yoongi is once again flustered and at a loss of words.

“It’s too generous mom, and you love that home” Yoongi argues and the queen smiles, she’s feeling her son ease around her a bit.

“Yes, and now it’s yours, this is my way of keeping it in the family. It’s a beautiful house that you now get to make it into your home. Plus, it’s so much better for security, we had all kinds of systems installed and I want you to be safe and happy, in a big beautiful house.” She retorts and Yoongi huffs crossing his arms.

“I’ll have to talk to him, I can’t just make this decision on my own” “Of course, but you guys deserve this, it’ll definitely earn you some brownie points with your boyfriend” she jokes and this is all a bit too shocking to Yoongi right now.

“When will I see you again? You promised to teach me how to paint” Jia cries into Yoongi’s shoulder as he crouches down to be at her level. Yoongi can’t help but coo at her whining niece.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise. We’ll paint and play with your tea set an entire afternoon” Yoongi promises as he brushes her hair out of her face. Jia looks at his face for a second, trying to see if he’s lying to her. Softly, she extends her pinkie for a promise and Yoongi gladly does as she says.

“Sweetheart, he’ll be back soon” Wonik says as he softly picks up her daughter and holds her close to his chest as she still has an unhappy look on her face. Yoongi looks at his brother and they can’t look at each other in the eyes still, it’s still very awkward.

“You take care, have you hired a security team?” this is the best Wonik can come up with and for a brief moment it warms Yoongi’s heart.

“You too and yes I have, I’m going to be fine, nothing to worry about” Yoongi says as he walks away from his brother to say good bye to his parents.

His mother has the same sad look she had the other day in his room while his father is still stoic as usual. Yoongi just bows to him as hugs his mother, she’s clutching onto him quite tightly.

“Call me often, send me pictures, write less sad songs and eat well, you got it?” there’s almost a hint of threatening in her tone, like she’s ordering this as the queen.

“Got it, take care” he mumbles as he pulls away from her. With a solemn look he turns around and takes a seat in the car where ___ and Haein are already seated.

“So, who’s ready for a fun week of packing” ___ says as the car pulls out from the driveway. There are a few reporters clicking away as they make their way to the main road. Nobody still used to the constant paparazzi.

“So, I have a game plan, I take up our place, it should take two days, meanwhile, you get done with yours. The parents place should take three days at maximum if we’re both there to look over it. For the two free days, I’ll go and say goodbye to the people and office and meet up a few friends. ___ you remember to break up with your boss/boyfriend, it shouldn’t take more than two days right?” Haein looks at ___ very seriously and ___ has a very incredulous look on her face.

“Yes, two days are quite enough to breakup with my boss/boyfriend” ___ voice is dripping with sarcasm and Haein just smiles coyly.

“What were you even thinking sleeping with your boss, what’s he like 33, what is he even doing dating a 21-year-old” Yoongi asks and ___ groans burying her head in her hands.

“He’s 29 and he’s British and very handsome and so so good in bed, do I have to break up with him” ___ asks and all she hears is scoffs.

“Yes and don’t sleep with him, you aren’t Sarah anymore, you’re Princess ___ now, you represent the monarchy” Yoongi answers and Haein chuckles in agreement.

“That’s very rich coming from a former member of the royal family” ___ retorts and Yoongi gives her a very stern look.

“Sass me all you want but your choice of men is still trash”

The apartment seems bigger with no furniture and just big packed boxes. ___ sits on the kitchen counter as she drinks wine directly from the bottle, she’s already donated all her dishware. She’s online reading another article about her past boyfriends, they’re all oddly all similar looking. ___’s not used to reading about her like this, people speculating who all she’s dated based on her social media history, which is now all gone.

The bell rings and she springs off to open the door, she knows exactly who’s on the other side. She takes a moment to compose herself before she swings the door open.

“Hey” “Hello, Princess ___” Aiden responds sarcastically as she lets him in, this is no going to be easy.

“So, it was just a chill Monday morning for me, I was looking forward to my girlfriend being back in town, suddenly there’s a NDA from your lawyers, a lot of ambiguous language that basically translated to me never being able to publicly talk about my “relationship” with you” Aiden spills out the second she shuts the door, he’s been holding onto this for a while.

“So, technically we have never dated? I’m just your boss that you had a close professional relationship with” Aiden continues as ___ massages her head.

“Aiden, this is out of my hands, I’ve been ordered by my press team to do this” ___ says and Aiden scoffs, he takes a moment to look around the empty apartment, where they’ve spent many nights together.

“Don’t hide behind it-“ “Aiden I am not hiding behind it, I lost important and loving people of my family over a month ago, my entire life has been turned upside down, people in the press are calling me a slut because I dared to date people in college, the future that I looked forward to now looks dreadful, my life is not what it was a month ago and all I’m trying to do is take the right steps to not destroy my family and the monarchy. Don’t you think all this is also hurting me, don’t you think that I didn’t want to do this but have to for the greater good?” ___’s yelling all the things that have been frustrating her for a while now, things she hasn’t been able to dwell on yet.

Aiden is silent as he watches her huff with anger. “Just sign the NDA, as a parting gift to me” ___ says and Aiden takes a deep breath, not saying what he wants to.

“Why are you going along with all this nonsense, you’re a smart woman, snap out of this princess fantasy” Aiden speaks and it’s the final straw for her.

“No, I am a dumb woman who wants to play dress up for the rest of my life, cut ribbons and make insignificant speeches, for the rest of my life I want to be a public figure that people get to ridicule and speculate about. Is that what you want to hear Aiden” the tears she’s been holding back for a while finally escape her as the new reality is dawns.

Aiden walks closer but ___ stays firm, she’s had enough of this, she’s tired. “I thought what we had was real, I am definitely in love with you and tell me you don’t love me, because I know you Sarah” Aiden tries the gentle approach this time.

“We are done Aiden, just sign the NDA” ___ asks with a soft voice and she can see the he’s hurt, it’s evident in his eyes.

“I already did, I sent them to your lawyers before I came here” that’s the last thing he says before he slams the door on his way out.

Yoongi is jolted awake with the bell ringing and simultaneous banging on the door. His eyes barely open as he looks through the peep hole to check if it’s another reporter and give them an earful for waking them up at 1 am. It’s someone else but they’re still going to get an earful from him.

“You were supposed to be here for dinner, what took you so long” Yoongi asks ___ and then looks at Namjoon standing just a few steps behind her.

“She was drinking at her place and waiting for her ex to come over” Namjoon answers for her and ___ just sighs pushing past her boyfriend.

“Okay, what’s in that bag?” Yoongi asks pointing to the bag she’s carrying to the kitchen. ___ doesn’t answer, instead she rummages through a few drawers.

“Ice cream, snacks and cigarettes” Namjoon answers for ___ once again but she just nonchalantly takes out a big tub of ice cream and starts eating it. The two men watch her stuff her face with chocolate chip ice cream and exchange looks with each other.

“Namjoon, you go and get some sleep, I’ve got it from here” Yoongi says and Namjoon just nods and leave. Yoongi watches ___ for a whole minute as she continues to eat ice cream like a sugar depraved child.

“___ you want to talk about it?” Yoongi asks as he walks over to her. ___ just mumbles a no as she takes another spoonful, he sighs and gets her a glass of water.

“Honey?” A voice booms from one of the bedroom and Yoongi sighs as he walks closer to their room.

“I’m downstairs, ___ just came home” Yoongi answers as he quietly contemplates what to do. He’s deep in thought watching his sister when he hears footsteps.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jimin asks with a groggy voice as ___ removes a tub of strawberry ice cream, finding the chocolate to be too over powering.

“She broke up with her boyfriend” Yoongi answers as he lays his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder, he’s had a long few days himself.

“You go back to sleep, you have work in the morning. I’ll deal with this” Jimin says seeing how Yoongi can barely keep his eyes open.

“Are you sure?” “Positive” “Okay, but absolutely no drinking” “I promise”

“So, you wanna smoke a joint with me and eat ice cream after?” Jimin asks and ___ nods finally putting down her spoon.

“It is ridiculous that you’re taking two suitcases full of trader joes snacks” Yoongi comments as he steps out the car on the tarmac. A long line of luggage is being put into the private jet, finally packing up this New York chapter.

“If we had more space, I would have taken a lot more” ___ didn’t care if she was paparazzied shopping at trader joes, she needed her fix.

“I can just send you a care package anytime you want, I can send you all the snacks you want, whenever you want” Yoongi’s tells and ___ smiles just for a brief moment.

“Can I not go, just stay here and ignore the life that is waiting for me in Seoul” ___ whines as she locks her arm with Yoongi.

“Come on, it’s going to be an interesting challenge. You were looking for a challenge like this just few months ago, this is universes weird and cruel way of presenting it” Yoongi has been choosing to deal with death in their family with sarcasm so far and people don’t love it.

“The press team wants me to go to college, make me more relatable to the youth” the file that the press team sent her a few days ago has been bothering her ever since she read it.

“College is fun, isn’t college in Korea mostly drinking and going out, that’s right up your alley” the sarcasm doesn’t seem to be working so far on ___ but Yoongi loves the annoyed look she gives him.

“The worst part of that press file was a timeline of my life, apparently, I’m supposed to start dating someone with the intentions of marriage by 2023, get married by 2025 and have my first child by 2027. The worst of it all, I can’t just keep dating someone because mom disapproves of them because apparently, she’s the queen now” ___’s using sarcasm to hide the actual horror she felt by reading that file.

“Well, if it all gets too much, fly to New York and smoke pot with my boyfriend and then lie about it to me. You can always do that” Yoongi accuses ___ with a stern tone and she just sighs as they stand in front of the flight stairs.

“Jimin promised to not tattle on me” “You both were high out of your mind last night watching tv and shouting at the Bachelor for giving the rose to the wrong person, he didn’t have to tell me” Yoongi states with a straight smile as he recalls being awoken by laughter multiple times last night.

“I was going through a lot” “Yes, but the invitation still stands, pot and otherwise” Yoongi says as he pulls in his younger sister into a tight hug. He is truly going to miss ___ showing up at their apartment at drunk at night.

“I love you, I’m going to miss you so much and you better take good take of yourself” Yoongi mutters into her hair and ___ nods clutching onto his very tight as well.

“Love you too, you take care too, make me lots of money” ___ jokes as she pulls away from him, her desperate attempt of keeping it light right now.

“Take care Haein” Yoongi says to a very tired Haein who smiles politely as she reaches over for a side hug.

“Jia has gotten attached to you, she’s going to ask to talk to you all the time now” Haein remarks and Yoongi giggles thinking of his four year old niece.

“Just let her, I’ve gotten attached too”

With a tinge of reluctance, ___ straps in the seat belt as they begin take off. New York City truly looks like the city of dreams, more so because now it’s just a part of ___’s imaginary dreams.

2024

The ballroom is light with soft yellow lights and jazz music as prominent people continue to file in. It’s late January and tonight people have gathered for the third coronation anniversary for the Queen. These events are less about celebrations and more of a networking event, with people in their fanciest outfits.

Last four years have been a shock to the system for everyone in the Min family. The members struggled to find their place as public figures. Every member was still fumbling around with their positions, making it look like they’ve got it together. Wonik, Haein and Jia are by far the favourites, constantly being photographed out and about as family, and Haein being pregnant with their second child is definitely helping. The Queen has been the best of all with her eloquent speeches and a nation rallying behind her, her husband doing absolutely everything to help her in the background. Yoongi laid low for the initial few months after he left, there are always articles stopping a formal royal and his boyfriend but they bother him less and less every day, his label has absolutely taken off, him on the verge of releasing an album himself.

 ___ compared to her family, struggled quite a lot to fit into her role. The few initial months of royal duties were difficult for her, she’s a naturally outspoken and opinionated woman and people don’t like that a lot. Things eased for her quite a lot as she enrolled for a masters in international studies, the press now lovingly calls her the number 1 campus crush. Her existence as a royal was to appear like a poised, educated woman in her mid-twenties so that she was desirable to all the men in her country, how vain.

She stands behind the rest of her family to make an entrance, she used to feel nauseous coming to events like these, but she’s found the right amount of small talk and always a glamorous dress. Theres clapping and bowing as they enter, a few minutes of formality later and everyone goes back to their drinking and celebrating.

“It’s unusually cold for January isn’t it” ___ tells to a man who cornered her right as she walked in. Not that she was disappointed to, he’s a handsome young man, who like most people in this room comes from immense amounts of wealth and privilege.

“Yes, January always makes me miss Chicago-“ “The cold makes you miss a much colder city?” ___ asks with amusement as she takes the smallest sip of champagne.

“Contrary to what people assume, Seoul is much colder in the winter, and with my family around it gets just so much more icier” the man says with a very straight face and ___ laughs out loud, catching the attention of a few people around them.

“Oh, I like you, you’re funny” ___ confesses and the man stands there with a charmed smile.

“How has it been for you your royal highness, you must miss New York” the man asks and ___ stifles a scowl as she takes a much bigger sip of her drink.

“It’s all a faint memory now, Seoul and Korea are my present and future” she says just as instructed my Ms Kim, yes, they had pointers to talk about when New York was mentioned.

“I read that interview about your hidden food gems in Seoul, your press team really fed you some good ones” the man says and he watches the look of awe on the princess’s face.

“I didn’t know I came off that transparent in my interviews” ___ question is a bit pointed but her smile says otherwise.

“You don’t, but as someone who’s been media trained my whole life, I can see the signs” the man confesses as he polishes off his drink, so does ___. She’s out of a response and it’s like the universe knew of it as Ms Kim clears her throat, bringing both their attention to her.

“If I could talk to Princess ___ for a few moments, we have something urgent to discuss” she states and the man passes ___ a charming smirk before taking a few steps away from them and asks her to come find him later.

“You can socialize with the grandson of the Samsung chairman all you want but don’t go falling in love with him” she states and ___ chokes on her drink, still not used to how straightforward she is.

“Now, I know this could wait till tomorrow, but I’m just too excited about it” the more Ms Kim talks the more confused ___ gets but she just continues to wordlessly follow her. They stop right by a man in a grey suit as he continues to talk to Wonik. ___ knows what this is all to well by now, he’s another man she’s going to be introduced to as a romantic partner and things are not going to work out, again.

Ms Kim clears her throat once again, and the men turn around promptly. ___ was expecting another handsome man who has been a tremendous success in field but also comes from a great lot of privilege, what she didn’t expect was Kim Taehyung.

“Princess ___, I wanted to introduce you to your new press secretary, Mr Kim Taehyung.” The words are ringing in ___’s ears and she doesn’t do much to hide the shocked look on her face as the man bows to her.

“Since your royal duties would get exceedingly demanding soon enough, I thought it would be a perfect time for you two to become acquainted with each other” Ms Kim looks at ___ expectedly and all she does is extend her hand. A warm, stiff hand shakes her and it’s almost like she’s being shaken back to reality.

“It’s a true honour for me Ma’am” Taehyung finally speaks up, his voice, deep just as she remembered. ___ just nods, afraid she’s going to say the wrong thing.

“I’ll just let the two of you talk, get to know each other. Prince Wonik, lets go and make those introductions now” Ms Kim is gone as swiftly as she came and once again ___ is standing in silence.

___ looks around, hoping there aren’t any eyes on them and swiftly gets a hold of Taehyung’s sleeve as she finds them a quiet corner.

“Namjoon, I just need some privacy and I bet my new press secretary isn’t looking to kill me, are you?” ___’s voice is agitated as she holds back the women’s room to restrict her bodyguards entry.

“I assure you there is going to be no killing happening tonight” Taehyung mutters as he stands behind the princess, not entirely believing in what he’s saying.

“Yes, so just make sure no one comes in, we need to discuss a few things” Namjoon begrudgingly takes those orders as a door is slammed on his face. The moment ___ turns around, Taehyung can notice how red her eyes are, maybe it’s the alcohol, most likely it’s the anger she’s feeling against him.

“You’re not taking this job” ___ announces as she takes a few steps forward, Taehyung just moves backwards, he should have expected some of this anger.

“I’m sorry, I would have called to ask you first but you changed your number and I’ve already signed a contract” Taehyung tries to reason and ___ finally stops in her tracks.

“Contracts are broken all the time, and you and I both know that I can’t have someone who I used to date working for me” ___ says calmly, Taehyung just sighs as she crosses his arms.

“But we didn’t date that long” he finally speaks after a long stretch of silence and ___ finally looks up at him. He is right, they didn’t. ___ didn’t think that that would hurt, but it did a little bit, how could a old wound hurt.

“Yes, we just dated for three months, I told you who I really was, what my plans for the future were and you dumped me out of nowhere” ___’s voice may be soft, but her words are harsh.

“Because you had plans to live in the US, I wanted to return to Korea, I simply did not want us to invest in a relationship that would just end in a whole lot of hurt. I didn’t know that your life would have these turn of events” Taehyung states and ___’s scoff is very loud in this room.

___ hasn’t said something for a whole minute and it’s starting to terrify Taehyung. He takes a few small steps towards her, this time she is the one walking backwards. He can see how distressed she is just by how tightly she’s gripping her arms.

“Why did you say yes to this job?” “Because it is a pivotal career move for me, how rare is it for a role such as this to be offered to a 30-year-old rather than a 50-year-old, this kind of experience can set me up for life” ___ does get an answer but it doesn’t make her feel better one bit.

“I don’t come with a background and pedigree like the rest of the people in that ballroom, people haven’t offered me jobs because I’m related to someone, it has all been because I work hard and get the necessary results.” Taehyung’s compassioned words finally force ___ to look up.

“Anything that was there between us was, god, eight years ago. I will understand if you don’t want me to take this job, but please reconsider it for a minute” Taehyung pleads and he can see it working because of the soft look on her face.

“Okay” ___ mutters softly as she moves past him, stopping right by the mirror to fix her appearance before they leave.

“Okay? Oh my god thank you, you are not going to regret this ___” Taehyung has a big smile on his face as he turns around as well, but the sharp look on ___’s face makes it disappear instantly.

“I’d assume my press secretary would know the proper protocol to address me is either your royal highness or ma’am” she speaks and Taehyung once again takes a step back.

“I’m sorry ma’am, that was the last mistake I make” he apologizes as he watches the princess go back to fixing her lipstick. He’s feeling fear and excitement for what lies ahead, but for now, he chooses to focus on the excitement.

February in Seoul is feeling colder compared to what Thailand felt like. ___ rolls into the palace still in a summer dress and sunglasses and earns a few looks just in a few seconds. She’s too relaxed from here vacation to care.

She would have gone straight to her apartment, but she had been asked my Ms Kim and her press secretary to make this stop, probably some bad news they wanted to share while she still had her vacation buzz.

“You summoned me?” ___ asks as she plops her handbag on the table, she’d been in this office way too frequently for her liking in just the last month.

“Your royal highness, how was the vacation?” Taehyung asks in the nicest tone he can muster up while he takes away all the files from her reach.

“Amazing, I think I’m still drunk” ___ boasts with a wide sarcastic smile as Taehyung nods awkwardly.

“Well, Ms Kim and I just wanted to discuss some of your upcoming royal activities and the pictures of you that have been circulating online” Taehyung whispers the last part because he can see the sharp look coming.

“What pictures, the one of me drinking, or the one of me smoking with my friends, or the public favourite, the one of me in a bikini at the beach” “The ones of you smoking ma’am” says a voice from behind her and she knows the voice too well by now.

“Have you had a few strong drinks Ms Kim, the urge to smoke after them is crazy and let me tell you, you would do so much better after a few strong drinks” ___ says as she turns back to type something on her phone.

“That may be your opinion ma’am but as a member of the royal family you can’t be paparazzied smoking-“ “If I may interrupt, the vacation pictures are actually pulling in positive opinions for Princess ___, the people like her more when she behaves like a college student, which she actually is” Taehyung speaks and the two women are looking at her, one more fiercely than the other.

“While I appreciate these theories Mr Kim, these opinions are not substantiated-“ “Actually they are, me and my team have been using this social listening tool and Princess ___ positive favours have been on a significant rise since the pictures came out” Taehyung came prepared with all the facts and figures and ___ won’t accept it but she is a bit charmed.

“And this lead me to a few more insights, rather than having the princess at business events for companies that were built a 100 years ago, how about we have her focus on the demographic that actually likes her” Taehyung continues talking as he picks up another file, which he now hands to both the people.

“The monarchy is seen as a positive figure by the people 50 and above and there has been a growing younger population that doesn’t see a need for it. Let the princess cover that demographic, they already like her” ___ has a small smile on her face as she watches the scowl on Ms Kim’s face grow.

“Highschool kids, people in college, young professionals, the population that lies within the age group of 15-35, these are the part of the population that the princess needs to be seen with rather than 70-year-old men who are chairmen to billion-dollar companies” Taehyung is speaking with a lot of conviction because he’s done his research on the topic but the unwavering look on Ms Kim’s face is still affecting him.

“Mr Kim, we have a structure in place, while you might have the figures, we can’t just go around changing the entire set up” Ms Kim says as she continues reading the files she’s been handed.

“I’m sorry but the more the princess goes to the events and duties you have been putting in for her, the worse press she’s been getting, I don’t think the structure has been working so far” Taehyung rebuttals and ___ is trying her best to hold in her gasp, some popcorn would make this perfect.

“The plan I have laid out, uses the princesses’ strengths to her favour rather than forcing her to pretend to be someone else. She is a charming, delightful person and I feel like the people deserve to fall in love with her rather than an uptight princess who’s out of touch” Taehyung is done speaking as he rests against the table and Ms Kim is showing just how flabbergasted she is.

“Alright, but I will have to have the queen’s press team approve of these new royal duties” Ms Kim is showing a lot of sass today and ___ is totally loving this.

“I already did a week ago and have received all the necessary approvals, the queen actually had a look and she was quite impressed” ___ looks at Taehyung who looks quite cocky and proud as he hands her a few more files.

“So, Ms Kim, what was it that you wanted to discuss with me after all” ___ asks as he looks up at a little bit upset Ms Kim. There haven’t been a lot of victories for ___ in the past few years but this one feels like a huge one.

“Nothing apparently, I’ll see you Mr Kim at the Queen’s briefing” “I’ll be there bring and early Ms Kim” the two of them watch Ms Kim walk out that office and ___ immediately erupts into cheers, so does Taehyung, and for a second of ill judgement they’ve about to hug each other when he pulls away and takes a step back.

“Oh my god, you did so good, sticking it to her so good” ___ continues the cheering as she sits back down, letting the awkward second just pass away.

“My motive was not to ‘stick it to her’, I did that because I could not stand another bad article being written about you” Taehyung says as he walks back behind his desk, maintaining the appropriate distance.

“But this is good, the stuff you have in there is the kind of work I will enjoy doing. The kind of work that makes me feel like a human being rather than a puppet” ___ is a little too excited as she goes back to the file, something she has not done in the past few years.

“I am glad you think that I’m doing a good job your royal highness” Taehyung feels a little relaxed as he sits back in his chair, Ms Kim could have very easily thrown out his weeks out work down the drain, but she didn’t.

“Now, if I remember correctly your third semester starts in three weeks” he asks as he opens up his calendar, now is when the real work starts.

“Yes” “Okay, we’ll ease in with the new demographic and will be starting off by you attending a celebratory party for a game company, they’re launching a new game and have invited young celebrities, influencer and young age reporters. I was able to pull a favour and get you an invite to the event” Taehyung talks and ___ has a concerned look on her face.

“You want me to attend a nerd event” “The game company is so popular with the demographic and most importantly, they don’t sexualize women in their games” Taehyung shares and the concerned look starts to go away.

“And another thing I really wanted to discuss, you really need a stylist preferably someone who comes with a makeup team” “Do you not think I have good style Mr Kim” ___ asks and he knows he should have worded this differently.

“That is not what I meant, you’ll be doing a lot more public appearances now and each will require a specific look and I just want people to be falling in love with you and we like it or not, it starts with your appearance” Taehyung once again thinks he might have misspoken but the small smile on her face is saying otherwise.

“Alright, so let’s get me a stylist and have people falling in love with me”

A massive hotel room was booked and the top stylists around the city were asked to come and present their ideas. The minute they heard that they were presenting to the princess, all their ideas were centred around royalty and elegance, nothing too original about it.

“If I see one more ostentatious golden down, I’m going to throw a fit” ___ mumbles to Namjoon as the next designer continues to set up their boards and presentation.

The person who’s setting up for the next designer giggles as ___ continues to complain. This catches both Namjoon and her attention.

“Hoseok, was it, does your bosses presentation also have a collection of ostentatious gowns?” ___ asks as she sits up straight, and the man in a very green outfit just nods as a looks around scared.

“I had a few better ideas but he’s a senior and I didn’t want to be fired” “If you were to style me, what would it look like” ___ is genuinely intrigued because of how boring this morning has been.

“I made a few mood board for you, but for the Golden Games event, I had a more glamourous dress in mind, something with cut outs and more flowy rather than structures, something that shows off your figure and personality rather than hiding it” Hoseok speaks as he hands ___ a iPad with very well designed mood boards. She continues to slide until she comes to the dress he’s talking about, and it’s shocking how much ___ likes it.

“The dress is Versace and I have contacts with the brand to be able to source the dress, for jewellery, since the dress is so loud, a pair of earrings from a local Korean brand called Sia, all of this can be sourced” He continues explaining and ___ is seeing her vision come to life for the first time.

“How much trouble would you be in if I wanted to hire you instead of your boss?” “So much, but it’s all worth it”

“What is wrong with you, why would you do that Ma’am” are the first words out Taehyung’s mouth as she walks into his office. ___ just scoffs as she takes a seat on the brown leather sofa, she’s come to find this sofa a bit more comfortable than she’d like to be.

“What do you think I did now Taehyung” “Why would you hire a junior stylist instead of the senior one, she has the kind of experience and contacts you need” Taehyung mutters as he massages his head, it’s been a long week, all he wants to do is go home.

“I liked him more, his style embodies my essence, plus he found me this super sexy dress and everyone else just wanted me to look like any other royal” ___ speaks and Taehyung finally looks up, she wonders what she said forced him to look up.

“See this is why I wanted you to hire a senior stylist, your outfits can’t be too outrageous, I had specific guidelines-“ “Taehyung, he is the one who enforces all of your anal requirements for me, no senior stylist will ever do it. And it’s not sexy in a way of being too revealing, but rather in a fitting and tasteful way” ___ is used to cutting of Taehyung and seeing the “Oh” look of realisation on his face.

“I assume you’ll be joining me for the event, picked out your finest suit?” ___ asks as she opens one of the mini water bottles, Taehyung’s noticed that she’s always needing a bottle of water or snack when she’s here, he’s arranged a small basket full of it.

“I have a personal thing that I can’t miss, but I’ll make sure to drop off the talking points for tomorrows Charity Gala” Taehyung has been quite literally buried with work, turns out doing a good job requires a lot of work.

“My first event as ___ with new approach for the new ‘demographic’ and you the chief manipulator of it all won’t be there, what’s the personal thing that is more important than your job?” ___ is a bit too sassy for 11 am, she’s had two coffees and no breakfast today.

“It’s my mothers first chemo appointment and I just want to be there, even if she doesn’t want me to” Taehyung knows he’s oversharing a bit, but being the oldest sibling and not talking about this with anyone else, it was bound to come out. The minute he looks up, he realises how guilt stricken his boss looks.

“I’m so sorry that I made a joke about that, of course you have to be there, make sure to leave early, and you don’t need to drop off the talking points for tomorrow, I’ll have someone pick it up” the worry in ___’s voice makes Taehyung smile a bit, it’s almost like he was wanting to someone to worry about him.

“Okay, but I’ll have Yena by your side, she’ll be at your place by 9, be ready by then. Also” he trails off as he sits up from his desk chair and picks up the report he’s been asked to hand her.

“I can’t fight Ms Kim, the Queen and your father on their need to find you a husband, I’ve gotten Ms Kim to agree that the most you’ll look for is a boyfriend with husband potential, so you’ll really need to get started with it. These are the options, I’d hope that you’d stick to this list” Taehyung hands ___ a thick file with a tiered list of potential partners. ___ sad for other reasons now.

“Can’t I just meet someone and fall in love with them naturally” “You are the royal princess ___ of the nation of korea, anyone you fall in love with first will be for strategic reasons to reaffirm the standing that the crown has with the people of our nation,” Taehyung repeats with a specific tone that Ms Kim uses and ___ just sighs as she stands up. For a second, their faces are mere inches from each other before Taehyung takes a step back and lets out a cough.

Years ago, she used to smell of flowers and spring, today she smells like vanilla and winter.

Everything about ___ is glowing, be it her hair, legs, dress, jewellery and even eyes. She has this glow she hasn’t had for years now and it’s a bit startling even to her. She’s quite used to public and private appearances like these, she knows her camera angles, which smiles the paparazzi like the most, what small talk do people like, but these always is this pit of nervousness in her stomach, but it’s gone as she looks at herself in the mirror.

Hoseok can see the glow, it’s glaringly obvious. It’s like the pit of nervousness has been transferred to his stomach, he knows just how make or break today’s outfit doing well is.

“Yena honey can you help me with these earrings” ___ asks as the makeup artists finishes with the lipstick.

“Let me” a voice booms by the door and no one in the room has to turn around to know who it belongs to. The entire room is scrambling to stand up and bow, but the queen just asks everyone to be at ease, she just wants to chat with her daughter.

“By the way mother, this is my new stylist Jung Hoseok, he’s the reason why I look so ravishing today” ___ brings Hoseok in the front as the rest of the team continues packing, done with making her look all pretty.

“Thank you, Mr Jung, ___ does look like she’s blooming” the queen’s compliment catches the two of them off guard. Soon the entire room is empty, with just the mother and daughter sitting by ___’s broken coffee table.

“Honey, you do look gorgeous, I haven’t seen you happy like this in a while” the queen says and ___ can’t help but show her a wide smile.

“This is your first event by yourself, all prepared?” “Yup, Taehyung quizzed me on my answers and I have flash cards for the small talk I’m sticking too. Hopefully I dazzle everyone tonight and the press finally writes something positive about me” ___ says as she fidgets with her earring, Hoseok warned her of how heavy they were, and it was already starting to get to her.

“You found a good partner with Taehyung, he really understands you” the passing statements from the queen has ___ thinking of Taehyung once again, he’s probably already at the hospital, she should text and check up on him.

“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful tonight, but that is not why I’m here tho. I got a call from Yoongi earlier today that he’s planning on going on a tour once he releases his first solo album. He wanted to ask my permission to schedule tour dates in Korea. Your father and I are unsure as it could go either ways from our perspective, I wanted to know your opinion on this” ___’s a little stunned by this, her opinion hasn’t really mattered to her family much, ever. ___ stands up to get some water, wanting to thing this through.

“I think him performing in Korea will be kinda great, it would show to the press and the people that even tho he’s not a royal yet, he’s still part of our family and always welcome here. Sure, there may be a few articles about him and Jimin, but we could easily divert that by me attending the concert with a few friends, even Wonik and Haein if they agree to it” ___ explains as she pours some sparkling water into a glass, she’s been on a strict diet for this dress and the soda craving doesn’t go away.

“I think so too, but your father is really worried about the bad press” “Mother we need to stop being so terrified of the press about this, Yoongi is gay, which is a completely normal arounds most of the first world country. We have to stop teetering around it like it’s a taboo subject. What is Yoongi has a boyfriend, someday, he may and a husband and are we still going to be so afraid of the negative press, would that stop you and father from attending his wedding” ___ speaks with the kind of composure that has her mother stunned, she’s finally coming into her own.

“You think they’re going to get married?” the queen asks and ___ rapidly nods her head, knowing she and Jimin had talked about this just a few weeks ago.

“Jimin found a ring in Yoongi’s office and he thinks he’s going to ask soon, Yoongi hasn’t talked to Jimin’s parents about it, but we think that he’s going to on their next trip to Korea, for the tour” ___ may be oversharing, but Yoongi would never tell her all this anyway.

“___, um, you think, Jimin’s going to want to ask for Yoongi’s hand?” ___ can see the guilt striken look on her mothers face, she doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Jimin’s already asked ___ for that.

Jungkook can feel his heart in his mouth, he’s nervous beyond words but in his suit and slicked hair he barely looks so. At important events like these, he remembers when the first game he put out around 5 years ago. He’s loved video games and as an overworked coder, he somehow still found time to put out his video game. The game didn’t make any noise for two years, but suddenly, one night it blew up. The past three years have been a whirlwind full of success, new beginnings, starting a company, making money beyond his imaginations and working more than he has ever before.

“All the last-minute checks for the event have been made, the cars have been sent for the VIP guests” Han tells Jungkook as he continues to adjust his cufflinks.

“The event company has informed me that the press has arrived and is waiting for the guests, taking in the delay from the proposed time for the unveil, you’ll go on stage at 10:05 and unveil the walkthrough for the new game at exactly 10:23. The walk-through ends at 10:28 and you end with a small thank you speech and get off stage for pictures with guests at 10:30. I have the list of the attendees that you have to absolutely take a picture with, do you want a reminder right now?” Han asks and Jungkook just nods a no, he opens his watch drawer and contemplates which one to wear tonight. The first Rolex may be the way to go but he could also wear his father’s watch for some good luck.

The drive to the event is filled with Han going over all the details but Jungkook has practically tuned him out, he’s more focused on what to do with his hands during pictures. A peace sign would be too dorky, crossing his arms may look too serious and hand in pocket may look weird with the jacket.

“So, I have arranged for you to greet all the guests as they go in for a photo op, this makes sure that you have face time with all of our most important guests” Han continues talking as they step out the car. Jungkook can see the beautifully set up venue, with the on-theme décor and paparazzi already waiting for it all.

“I’m going to go in and do some final checks with the event, why don’t you stay here, get some lip service with the press, most important of it all, stay on subject” Han leaves with one last bit of information and Jungkook just nods trying to muster all the confidence her can.

“Congratulations!!!” Mingyu hollers as he sees Jungkook right before going on stage. The two friends hug each other, first time tonight when Jungkook greets someone comfortably. They met ages ago, in high school and even tho Mingyu is a high-profile model, they’ve stayed close.

“I’m so nervous I may throw up” Jungkook mutters to his friend as he adjusts his suit, it’s right at that moment that there’s a loud commotion, and all the sudden, the press if focused elsewhere.

The two men silently try and focus in on the cause of it all, their eyes stay fixed as a woman with a glamorous golden dress and her shiny hair come into focus. She isn’t just any other woman, she’s princess ___, and that just makes Jungkook more nauseous.

“She’s beautiful isn’t she” Mingyu mutters as the men continue to shamelessly stare as the princess walks closer to the event.

“Breathtaking” Jungkook can feel a few cameras on himself too, but he can’t help but look away. Everything about her grabs his attention, her smile, the flowy hair, the dress.

“Okay, she’s coming closer, I’ll go and smile for the cameras and see you inside” Mingyu leaves with one final tap on his friends back while Jungkook stays turned around, waiting for the princess to come closer. He contemplates if he should walk closer to greet here, and Han is tapping is shoulder before he decides.

“The royal protocol is you bow first, and the formal greeting is your royal highness and ma’am after that, go on, walk to her” Han instructs and Jungkook follows, suddenly right in front of her. He bows like instructed and so does she, ___ looks at her expectantly, and suddenly Jungkook’s forgotten how to speak.

“Congratulations Mr Jeon, now I haven’t played video games ever, but people in my office love playing yours after hours” ___ takes the lead and Jungkook can’t help but smile widely.

“Thank you, your royal highness, hopefully, the people in your office like this one as well” he says as they walk to the stage, at a very glacial stage.

“Oh don’t start with the your royal highness, call me ___, please” ___ says with a small smile, picking up her dress ever so slightly to walk better, the heels are definitely taxing.

“I’m not going to do that, my assistant may actually shoot me if I don’t follow the royal protocol, he’s briefed me on it a hundred times since your RSVP’d” Jungkook jokes and ___ can’t help be a bit charmed by his toothy smile.

“Oh, I don’t want to be the reason you get shot, on a very important day for you after all” the two of them have totally stopped by the stage for this conversation, disregarding all the cameras.

“He’s quite strict, right now, he’s probably accounting all the extra time we’ve taken up to talk and adjust the timeline for the rest of the event” Jungkook jokes, despite how nervous he is, he doesn’t want the princess thinking he’s not funny.

“Oh well, not to make his job too hard, I’ll go on stage and be pretty before you get into more trouble” ___ says as she takes a step back, but still not moving. He eyes go from his big bright eyes, to his many ear piercings, to his folded over shirt collar. Her instincts tell her to just reach and straighten it, but she smiles and indicates to it, suddenly all aware of the cameras.

Jungkook shyly nods as he fixes her collar, looking back at her. “Thank you for this, and coming here” “Thank you for inviting me, and come find me inside” she says as she walks away.

Han had been feeling breathless all day, he’s been working towards this for this last three months, and that was just the event. He thought he would almost faint the moment Jungkook misspoke during the presentation, but to his relief, his boss just laughed and continued on. As Jungkook gets off the stage, done with the formalities of it all, the dinner is served and he feels like he can finally breath again.

“Where am I seated for the dinner?” Jungkook asks as he unbuttons his suit jacket, if it were up to him, he would have removed it all together.

“With your family,” Han says as he leads Jungkook to the assigned table, they stop every now and then as people congratulate him.

“I’ll go and see my parents, but if you could find me a table on the princesses table, she asked me to come find her” Jungkook speaks with a small smile, when up on stage, he could see her very clearly in her golden dress, she listened very intently for someone who doesn’t play video games.

“I’ll see, Mingyu has been keeping her company so I’ll move him or ask her safety officer to move to the next table” the thought of Mingyu chatting her up suddenly has Jungkook a bit bothered, but before he can think more of it, his mother engulfs him in a warm hug.

“Have you taken your medicine?” Jungkook asks his father as the first course is being served. Han texted him that moving anyone is not possible right now, he’ll have to come and find her once dinner is over.

“I did, you need to stop worrying about me, and celebrate your success today” his father says with a gentle tap to his hand. Jungkook worries, constantly worries after the minor stroke his father had a few months ago.

His brother is busy talking to his wife, so are his parents and the sudden quite at the table forces Jungkook to look around. He sees a room full of the most important people to his and his country as they continue to chat away, the room is full of voices and constant sound of cutlery.

He sees his senior team as they discuss something, he sees a table full of influencers as they continue to be on their phone, the table full of his investors among the many tables around him. But he’s looking for one specific one that he just can’t spot yet.

“Who are you looking for?” Nari, his sister-in-law asks as the dessert is served. On a normal day, Jungkook would absolutely be attacking this dessert, but he just doesn’t have the appetite today.

“Princess ___” Jungkook answers honestly, he’s known Nari for years now, she’s not someone he can lie too. Nari giggles as she turns around in her seat, trying to spot the princess and she immediately does.

“She is quite dazzling, very royal. She doesn’t attend events like these, how did you even manage to invite her?” Nari asks as she takes a bite of tiramisu. Jungkook smiles as he thinking back to a letter that Han explained over a month ago.

“It’s a secret”

“I’m speaking at a college tomorrow, it’s a panel about a complicated topic that basically means how important it is for women to be in higher education” ___ shares with her new friend Kim Mingyu. Tonight she’s seated with Mingyu on one side and Namjoon on the other, there are other business people on the table that she hasn’t bother to talk to much. They had disappeared after dinner to socialize themselves.

“Wow, you’re getting your masters right?” Mingyu asks as he takes a sip of his champagne, now that the dinner is done, there’s a more causal feel in the banquet room, with free-flowing drinks and talk.

“Yes, that reminds me that I have to meet one of my professors about some study material he’s assigned” ___ shares as she nurses her second gin and tonic of the night. Her new friend chuckles before he drowns his drink entirely.

“I never went to college, I was scouted during high school. It happened at a game room that Jungkook and I were leaving. Jungkook was scouted too, but he had his eyes set on Seoul University” Mingyu shares and flashes of Jungkook in his double-breasted jacket and crinkling eyes as he smiles come back to her.

“That’s where I’m speaking tomorrow, Mr Jeon’s alma matter” “Mr Jeon?” a voice booms from behind them, its Jungkook with two drinks in his hand.

“Namjoon scoot over, let Mr Jeon sit” ___ nudges her security officer who has a very straight face that scares Jungkook, he just smiles shyly as he takes the seat next to the princess.

“No Mr Jeon, just Jungkook your royal highness” “Well, that can only happen when it’s ___ instead of your royal highness Mr Jeon” Mingyu watches this banter and in a blink of a second, it’s almost like he’s invisible, not that he’s complaining. He’s observed his best friend look at the princess with stars in his eyes all evening, still Mingyu isn’t sure it’s being he’s enchanted by her or because she’s a princess.

“Actually no, it has to be your royal highness or ma’am for him, there’s way too much press here for him to address you casually” Namjoon interjects and ___ has truly never gotten over Namjoon being the straight man.

“You see ma’am, you come with rules that I just can’t look past, now I’m afraid he’s going to shoot me” Jungkook jokes taking a double take to the very muscular man to his other side, a man who can definitely take him down.

“But I am younger than you, ma’am makes me feel middle aged” ___ complains as she reaches over for one of the glasses of champagne Jungkook brought over. She’s breaking the two-drink rule tonight.

“Ma’am is for respect, your royal highness you are third in line to the royal throne” Namjoon interjects again and ___ wants to reach over and punch him, but she knows it’s only going to hurt her.

“Can we step away for a moment, for a smoke maybe” ___ asks Jungkook and he’s immediately pushing his chair back to stand up while Namjoon mutters a no.

___ has been in this hall for another gala before, her special talent has become finding hiding spots from the crowd all around the country. She’s walking a few steps ahead of Jungkook as they take up the stairs to the balcony. ___’s about to look back to check if he’s still there and at that moment she wobbles in the heels for the first time tonight.

“Careful” Jungkook’s voice is just a notch above a whisper as his hand comes around her waist to steady ___, through the cut around her dress, she can feel his warm hands on her cold waist. The warm feeling on her waist and suddenly all over her body makes her wobble again and Jungkook just chuckles keeping his hand firmly on her waist for support.

___ almost sighs out loud when his hand drops the second, she’s at the top of the staircase, but she just picks up the pace and tries to open the loud, creaky door as quietly as she can. Jungkook stands back for a second as he takes it all it, the princess standing against the railing with a wide smile as she turns to look back at him. Jungkook knows he’s being impulsive, there are a lot more people back in the room whom he hasn’t had the chance to talk to yet, important people that he needs around for business.

There’s almost no talking but Jungkook can read ___ pretty well, she has a different look now than she had back in the room, back there it was more glamorous but now it’s more natural. Jungkook watches as she slips off her heels and sigh with relief, she looks a bit shorter next to him now and he has to look away to smile and try and control his blushing.

“My brother has threatened me to stop smoking, so I have stopped for a while, but it’s still a good excuse to get away” ___ looks forward into the beautiful garden as she speaks, she can spot some roses and they look lovely in the winter night.

“I did too, my father had a stroke a few months ago and it set me straight” Jungkook answers as she leans against the railing, turning towards her ever so slightly. It’s mid-February so it’s still quite cold in Seoul, which is quite evident with the way the princess keeps rubbing her arms and shiver. Without much thought, Jungkook slips off his jacket and places it on her shoulder, the sudden movement causing her to look up at him.

“Is your father doing well now?” “I have forced my parents to get a dog which in turn forces them to go on walks twice a day, so there’s some progress” Jungkook remembers the day he showed up with a small puppy in his hands, that has for a record been the most his mother has been mad at him.

“Creative problem solving, so you do have the qualities that make you this successful” ___’s tone isn’t the one of humour, but that of fact stating and it validates Jungkook very much.

“Honestly, I mostly write the code still, my brother is the CEO because he’s actually run businesses for years and went to business school” Jungkook explains like he does to most people, he doesn’t see himself as this successful founder most of the times, just an ordinary coder.

“That is why you aren’t on my list, you have to be a CEO or be part of a family business dynasty to be on my list” ___ had been handed a list customized for today right as she sat in the car, so far she’s spotted five people from that list at this event.

“A list?” Jungkook asks with curiosity, the princess confuses him, he wants to ask her many more questions.

“A panel of people consisting of the queen, my father, their press secretary, my press secretary and a few other advisors have devised a list of prospect husbands for me, or at least boyfriends as I fought back. Me being a 25-year-old single princess doesn’t sit right with a lot of people, especially that panel” ___ answers in a very matter of fact way, these things are a fact of life for her, but the shocked look on Jungkook’s face is saying otherwise.

“They have a spreadsheet with a life plan for me with multiple routes of actions, actions that help me establish my position with the people and also help the crown. But the most prevalent plan is me having a husband by 27, a child by 30, because even if I am a princess, I am still someone who has to be a wife and mother” Jungkook can sense some bitterness in the princesses’ words, but he is dumbfounded on what to say, which is very clear on his face.

“I’m sorry to be trauma dumping Mr Jeon, I have no right to complain. I am a wealthy, privileged princess and these complaints are childish” ___ says with a soft smile, she feels comfortable to talk to him for some reason, she just wants to keep talking and empty her brain, and heart.

“Well, do I still stand to score a date even if I’m not present on your list” Jungkook says with a light chuckle, he couldn’t have mustered up the courage to do this if not for the three glasses of champagne. His biggest fears do not come true and she doesn’t turn and boo at his face, but rather she has a big smile as she holds his jacket tightly.

“Score a date, mind you Mr Jeon you’re talking to the royal highness princess ___, third in line to the royal throne” ___ jokes as she takes a step closer to him, she’s still a bit cold and in need for warmth. To her surprise, he doesn’t pick up on her joke but rather stiffen up as his face falls.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“ “That is exactly how I want, need you to talk, drop the formalities and score a date with me, ___” she has a bright, gorgeous, wonderful smile as she takes another step forward. His eyes are following her hand as they reach over to fix a piece of hair.

“Oh” he mutters as her hand travels downwards, to the collar that was once out of place. There is absolute silence and deep breaths as both her hands come around his neck, his jacket falling off her shoulders right at that second.

Compared to a confident smile that ___ usually wears, she now has a small, shy one. If it were any other man, he would have instantly captured on this moment, but Jungkook isn’t just any other man. He’s a bit clumsy and somehow it adds to his charm.

“Ask me out again” ___ instructs and all the sudden the wheels in Jungkook’s brain are working again. He bites his lip anxiously as he finally does something, circling his arms around her waist, she may not need some steadying right now, but he does.

“Can I take you out, to my favourite barbeque place that feels so comfortable in a behind alley somewhere in Incheon. We could share some soju and I get to know you, ___” Jungkook barely whispers her name, worried someone other than her is going to hear him. To his shock, she isn’t confidently saying yes to this, but rather, hiding her face around his chest, he’s worried if is heart is beating too loudly.

In a moment of confidence, Jungkook beings his hands up to ___’s face. For a second, he sees her more as a vulnerable, shy, 25-year-old ___, rather than a confident princess. It doesn’t surprise her, but he rather wants to see the former ___ again.

“Tell me, you want me to pick you up on my bike and take you out?” Jungkook asks again, her sudden lack of confidence fills him with it.

“Yes, but only if I get to wear a cute pink helmet” ___ talks once again and Jungkook has to take a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Of course, do you have a specific pink?” Jungkook asks and ___ gets on her tip toes to get closer not to his lips, but his cheek. His grip around her tightens as she leaves a soft peck on his cheek, leaving an imprint of her salmon pink lipstick.

“I wouldn’t dare to wash my face after this, but I need to get a few more pictures taken for the press” Jungkook confesses as the two of them stand still, not wanting to move away, just yet.

“Do you have a napkin?” ___ asks and Jungkook immediately drops his hands around her to look for something in his pockets, he does find the napkin he’s been using all night to wipe away the sweat, hopefully, she can’t smell any of it.

The cheeky twinkle is back as she places the napkin against her lips to leave an imprint. He stares at it for a second too long as she hands it back before folding it and placing it back in his pocket.

“I think we should get going, you should be talking and networking with people, taking in all the praise” ___ talks as she bends down to pick up his jacket, rather than handing it back to him, she’s helping him putting it back on.

“Yes ma’am” Jungkook jokes as he takes a step towards the door, ___ mocks some anger as she scowls her mouth but he just chuckles as he keeps the door open for her.

“I want to ask you something that’s been gnawing on me all evening” Jungkook asks the princess as they reach the end of the stairs.

“What?” “What am I supposed to do with my hands when I get photographed?” the genuine anguish behind Jungkook’s words makes ___ giggle, this just adds to his clumsiness.

“There are two options, you either keep one hand in your pocket and other beside you, or, my favourite one, have a date, so you always have something, or rather someone to hold” ___ says and now Jungkook is the one blushing.

“Where did you disappear to?” Mingyu asks as the princess takes her seat back at the table, most tables are empty now, everyone standing around and chatting about one thing or another.

“Just here and there, talking to people” ___ replies with a cheeky smile as she reaches over to her handbag to find her lipstick and reapply it.

“Well, I’m throwing a surprise celebratory afterparty for Jungkook, a few of our common friends are going to be there, lots of booze, I’ve reserved the rooftop of a hotel to party our heart away. You should come” Mingyu asks, trying to help out his friend who’s clearly interested.

“The party isn’t much of a surprise as Jungkook already asked me to join too, but like I told him, I have an event early tomorrow and I absolutely can’t be hungover for it” ___ tells like she told Jungkook, who retorted with ‘Then you’ll blend in right with all the rest of the hungover students’

“That’s too bad, you seem quite fun and Jungkook can’t take his eyes off you” Mingyu teases as they both catch Jungkook looking right at ___ as someone continues to talk to him.

“I can’t either, but I have duties, royal duties for which I can’t slip up even a little” ___ is going back to being a princess after a few fleeting moments of being herself and there’s nothing she can do about it.

“Ma’am, should go around the room, there are some people Mr Kim wanted you to talk to, we’ll have to leave after that” Namjoon says from right beside her and at once she stands up, understanding that the work needs to be done.

Jungkook’s watching from a distance as the princess goes around, more like people coming and finding her one after the other to share a word. She dazzles each, making them laugh, people definitely walk away a bit awed and definitely charmed by her.

She talks to a few important people in business, fan girls over a celebrity or two and it’s right as she’s about to leave when she looks around to say goodbye. Jungkook spots her wandering eye immediately and excuses himself from a much boring conversation.

“Leaving so soon ma’am?” Jungkook asks as he walks closer, Han just a step behind him.

“Yes, I have royal duties tomorrow as well, the princess duties don’t stop” ___ says with a bit of a pout, something Jungkook finds incredibly adorable. ___ can spot an impatient man standing behind Jungkook, she assumes it’s the assistant Jungkook spoke off.

“Mr Han, I wanted to congratulate you as well, this event that I was told you’ve been working very hard towards and was quite fun, hopefully the game will be too” ___ finally addresses Han and he as opposed to Jungkook, bows with quite conviction.

“Thank you your royal highness” “Can I walk you out ma’am-“ “Actually you still have a few people you’re yet to talk to” Han interrupts Jungkook and ___ can’t help but laugh out loud.

“I see you’ve got an interrupter yourself, you better listen to him Mr Jeon” “I better, we’ll it was delightful to meet you, I’ll definitely being seeing you soon your royal highness” “You will”

___ struggles to use a cork screw, but she finally has a glass of wine in her hand. She got back at her apartment few moments ago and the rush of all that has happened today is all coming back to her. She hasn’t done this kinda thing in months, years, and all she can still think about is how good he smelled, how big and warm his hands are, how his laugh forces her to smile, she feels like a giddy teenager with a crush.

All ___ wants is to get out of this dress, but the zipper seems stuck and she just might have to ask one of the security officers to help her out, no matter how embarrassing it is. It’s like the universe can hear her thoughts, because the doorbell rings right at that second.

“What are you doing here?” is the first thing ___ asks as she opens the door, swinging it open, not just anyone can ring the doorbell, security lets them through first, and she is utterly shocked seeing Taehyung here, in the same suit he was this morning.

“I wanted to hand these myself, it is your first speaking engagement with me as your press secretary after all” Taehyung says pointing to another folder filled with documents.

“How was the appointment, come on in” ___ says as she takes a step back and Taehyung walks behind her, not used to seeing ___ in such glamourous dress. He has to force himself to look away.

“It went well, I mostly worked through it as mom watched some tv, still a bit nauseous from the hospital smell” Taehyung answers frankly as ___ picks up the bottle of wine again.

“Are you driving home?” “No, I live walking distance from here” Taehyung answers and watches ___ pour him a quite full glass, he definitely needs it.

“Before we get to work, can you do something for me, follow me to my room?” ___ asks as she crosses through the living room, leading him into the bedroom. It’s quite a contrast to the last bedroom of ___ Taehyung remembers. The college apartment was decorated, the bedroom used to be messy, but now it’s all decorated, clean, lacks character.

“I think the zipper is stuck, help me please” ___ asks as she turns around and gathers all her hair in the front. Taehyungs frozen but he does as instructed, bringing the zipper down midway her spine and stopping there.

“I just need to get out of this and get the makeup off as well, sip on your wine and I’ll be back” she’s gone swiftly and Taehyung just awkwardly stands, not knowing what to do, what to see, where to sit.

He spots the pile of books he suggested she read, to be more fluent in korean, flowers in the room, arranged neatly and evenly into beautiful vases, so much white furniture and blankness, not art or paintings, her desk with her laptop and straight piled books, no sticky notes or calanders in sight, this is a stark difference to the room ___ had in college.

“Taehyung, can you hang this dress in the other room, the hanger is in the bathroom” ___ says as she steps out in a navy-blue collared pyjama set and the dress on her arms. The matching, proper pyjamas are once again a reminder that this isn’t the same ___ he knew years ago.

The supposed guest room is empty, entirely set up, but empty. Taehyung just does as he says, hanging the dress and taking a step back to look at it, he’s already seen almost 50 reports just about how gorgeous she looked, numerous tweets, people already starting to fall in love, just as intended.

He walks back to her room, the bathroom door completely swung open as she continues to remove her makeup. Taehyung watches her quietly for a second till ___ catches him through the mirror.

“I haven’t had the chance to look online yet, but what are the articles like?” ___ asks as she continues to massage in the cleansing balm.

At the slight mention of work, Taehyung is back on it, reading her a few excerpts from what he read. The people particularly loved the pictures of her and Jungkook right before she got on stage, there were video edits made already.

“So, overall success, multiple people posted with you on social media. I was thinking even we could put up stories on your Instagram, congratulating Mr Jeon and his company, I can get pictures from one of the many photographers” Taehyung says already texting people as ___ washes her face.

“Definitely, also Hoseok suggested I wear a suit tomorrow instead of a dress” “Definitely”

Taehyung sees cheering crowds every time ___ attends an event, speaks to a crown, attends a gala or even a time she went out shopping. This all feels new and surreal that all this has happened in a matter or one and a half month. Today ___ is volunteering at an orphanage, spending some time with the kids, playing a few games with them, but to their surprise most kids are between the age of 10-15, breaks his heart.

“Jesus fucking christ, Taehyung these are teenagers, teenagers are scary, what do I talk to them about?” ___ asks as they’re greeted with a bunch of smiling kids, ___ had been assuming that it would be little kids who don’t ask the difficult questions, but it’s teenagers, people she has no experience with.

“Kids in this age group have a hard time being adopted, they’re just children, maybe a little traumatised but still children, just talk to them like you would with Princess Jia” Taehyung says as they walk even closer to the people who run this place, who were more than delighted when Taehyung called to arrange this.

“Jia has been a nightmare lately, Oh hello kids, these flowers are so pretty, thank you” ___ switches it mid-sentence, the flowers look like they have been picked right from the garden and it’s the most beautiful bouquet she’s received recently.

After a lot of formal greetings and more flowers all of them make their way to the open amphitheatre, and she looks around in awe, this place is rather well made, must help the kids a lot. There’s still some press as they take a few photos every now and then, ___’s still not used to the flashing lights.

“Hello everyone, thank you for such a warm welcome, it’s a beautiful morning isn’t it” ___ speaks on the microphone. The kids look at her with such wide smiles that it hurts her that she called them scary a few minutes ago.

“Now, I want to propose a little bit of challenge to you guys, instead of me standing on stage the whole time and answering questions, which I hear you guys have a lot of. I sit with you up there and everyone that has a question comes up and asks me on stage. You guys wanna do that?” ___ asks and it’s a mix of loud no’s and some yes’s. She just laughs it off as she looks around again. Talking to their head caretaker earlier, she learnt how the kids sometimes struggle with confidence and being seen, hence the change.

“Come on it’ll be fun, and I have a simple trick for when you’re nervous on stage, look directly at me when you speak and just forget about the rest of the people, can you do that” ___ asks again and there are a few enthusiastic yes’s and that’s a good thing.

“Alright, one after another, come up on stage, tell us your name and ask me the question.” ___ takes a seat between the kinds after this and they’re visibly shaking with excitement when she does.

Most questions are easy, asking if she likes the sunset or sunrise, summer or winter, what was she like in high school, what clubs was she a part of in school, how did she decide what she wanted to study, she’s not puzzled till a shy girl in her floral dress comes up on stage.

“Hi, my name is Choi Seun, and I wanted to ask, um, how does one know when they’re in love?” she asks and continues to take deep breaths after she’s done speaking. The kids look at ___ with anticipation, and she tries to string together an answer, she should have anticipated this, these are teenagers after all.

“Well, love um, it’s a deep feeling that comes from a lot of respect, care and affection for one another. It’s a very complex feeling, but for me, I have known that I am in love when I feel extremely comforted just by their presence, when I can talk to them about everything that is bothering and exciting me and most importantly, when I want to share my food with them” ___ jokes about the last part and to her delight the girl is laughing and so are the rest of the kids, indicated she did good.

There are a few more questions and they finally break for lunch after. The pictures keep constantly happen as she sits with the team that takes care of the kids. She finds Taehyung and mouth him to come talk to her.

“Yes ma’am” “The press must have gotten enough pictures by now, for the tour of their rooms, can we ditch the cameras?” ___ asks as all the people around her listen intently.

“It’s a private place for the kids and I do want to spend some time with them without the cameras” ___ continues and Taehyung is already formulating what to say to the press.

___’s given a tour of the living space for the children, the walls are so colourful, books all around, even a specialized room to play video games, which she’s told the kids love.

“This room was donated by Mr Jeon, he’s actually one of our biggest donators” the caretaker shares as a few kids continue to stay glued to their video games. Even his name brings a small smile on ___’s face, it had been a week since they met and exchanged texts every now and then, he’s busy with work for now.

“That’s wonderful, he’s a great person isn’t he” “He’s the best, despite how busy he is with work he makes sure to come in and check with the kids every month. The money is good, it definitely helps, but he really gives the kids the attention and care they really crave” she says with a similar smile that ___ has.

“Wow, you guys have really decorated your room well” ___ exclaims as she walks into one of the girls’ dormitories. The walls are full of kpop posters, pictures, lots of cd’s, even an old-fashioned cd player.

“Oh, look at this picture, when was this taken?” ___ asks picking up a framed picture from one of the bedside table, once again, to her surprise it’s of Jungkook and the girl, it looks like it was taken just months ago.

“Jungkook oppa throws a big party for us every ear, he calls it a group birthday celebration and he takes all of out to a restaurant and we cut so many cakes and it’s so much fun, this is from the last group birthday” the thirteen-year-old explains with excitement and ___ is endeared enough to mutter out a aw and whip out her phone to send this picture to Jungkook.

“I’m sending this to Mr Jeon, he’s quite busy with work so this’ll cheer him up” “I saw pictures of Jungkook oppa and you from his event, are you guys dating?” an older girl asks and causes ___ to stand up straight immediately. That question is immediately followed by “Oh my god, you guys looked so good together” “You looked so pretty” “He’s so handsome isn’t he” “He’s so nice, who wouldn’t fall in love with him” “You guys are the IT couple”

___’s tired beyond anticipated as she finally falls in her sofa, it’s been a longer day than anticipated by a longer than expected stay at the orphanage and a dinner with the chamber of commerce afterwards.

Tomorrow is again a busy day, just like today. But the right kind of busy with lectures and presentations. With her laptop on her stomach, she continues editing one of her submissions when she feels her phone ringing.

“Hey, what a surprise” ___ doesn’t try to mask her excitement at all as she picks up the call, it’s from Jungkook, they haven’t talked on the phone yet.

“Hi” Jungkook says as he stands up in the empty conference room, he doesn’t even know what caused him to call her, he just wanted to.

“Thank you for the picture, really brightened my dreadful day” Jungkook says with a bit of excitement, his day has gone from bad to worse in a matter of hours but right in this moment, he doesn’t care.

“Dreadful?” “My team is on top of it, hopefully it’ll be resolved by the time we launch the game” “In seven days, you excited” ___ asks and Jungkook smiles widely, noticing how she’s been keeping a note of when the game launches.

“I’m so nervous all the time, last night I had a nightmare that the game was a flop and people kept yelling at me” Jungkook confesses and he can hear the giggles from the other side, it’s great that his misery is funny to someone.

“That’s not going to happen, in other news, you’re have a lot of adoring fans at the orphanage, a few teenage girls with massive crushes on you as well” ___ shares and this time Jungkook is the one giggling, he has had a change to look at the thousands of pictures posted online from ___’s visit, it looked like she had fun.

“Yes, and they aren’t very subtle about it, the last time one of them asked me what my type was and I chocked so hard on water” Jungkook says and ___’s laughter is making him feel a lot better, but the feeling is starting to vanish as Han knocks on the door once again.

“So, what is your type?” ___ asks and she is sure that she sounds like one of those teenage girls with crush, but she doesn’t care.

“How about I tell you that when we meet, in eight days because I really need to go, Han is looking at me like a crazy person” “Okay, well, um, you take care” “You too”

It had been a busy month for ___. First full month of new and refined royal duties and the response has been overwhelmingly positive. The narrative has shifted quickly from ___ being a nobody in the royal family to her finding her actual footing in the family and with the public.

But today this is the least of her worries, today she’s waiting at the airport to pick up someone she’s been dying to see. As she parks and hands Namjoon the keys, it’s hard not to notice a few eyes turning towards here, people starting to click pictures as soon as they realise who she is.

“You taught me how to drive, how can you not trust me to drive?” ___ whines as Yoongi tries to snatch the keys away from her. Now that his concerts in Korea have been approved, Yoongi decided to fly out here to meet the family and make some arrangements for the coming tour.

“Are you seeing this parking? Hand me the keys now” ___ doesn’t fight much, she doesn’t enjoy driving anyway. Namjoon is banished to the security car that follows them, and the sister brother duo are quick to get on the road.

“I listened to the album, and it’s surprisingly hopeful with the lyrics, what happened to the angsty Yoongi?” ___ teases as she checks her phone again for the fifth time, Yoongi’s already taken note of it.

“Life became better, I am so madly and deeply in love and most importantly, what I say now is scrutinized to death, so I only want to put the best foot forward” Yoongi answers but he can see how she’s not entirely listening to it as she checks her phone once again.

“So, who is the new man who hasn’t texted you back yet?” Yoongi asks and ___ finally puts her phone down, he’s busy, unlike her, he’s got work.

“He’s not on the list so I’ve been trying not to fall for him” ___ answers with a deep breath. There hasn’t been much contact between ___ and Jungkook, his game launches day after tomorrow and he’s buried under work. There’s only been a few texts here and there, Jungkook promises to come through with the barbeque thing very soon.

“Is it the Jungkook guy, the internet has been all over you both, Jimin had to make a burner account to like all the tweets, so much speculation and gossip and the way he looked at you” “Starstruck?” ___ jokes and Yoongi look at her for a soft smile.

“Adoration,” Yoongi says as he turns from the highway onto the city roads. His answer keeps ringing in ___ mind, if Yoongi could pick up on the adoration, what else did other people pick up on.

Usually, the royal family would live and gather at the blue palace, the biggest and the oldest palace in the history of Korea. But ever since the terrible day of shooting, no member of the royal family has ever lived there. The Queen and the Prince consort live at a smaller palace right in the middle of Seoul, Wonik, Haein and their two kids at the Incheon Palace, a palace that was made for the king in waiting and ___ doesn’t live in any of the royal properties, she rents just like many other college students, but unlike them in their smaller apartments, she rents the entire penthouse to reserve the floor.

But today, the Min family has been gathered at Seoul Palace, which the royals may think is small but is a massive sprawling property with gardens all around. They’re all seated outdoors for a brunch, and ___ realises all of them haven’t been together for over four months.

Yoongi is surrounded by Jia and her two-year-old brother Jiho. Jia had her 7th birthday recently, so Yoongi came bearing gifts, lots of them, for all the kids. Wonik is engrossed in a conversation with their father, discussing an upcoming speech he has to give. Haein tells their mother about a few stories of Jia from school, Jia has been quite a lot of trouble in school lately. While all this happens ___ sits by herself, focused on the food, the food at the Seoul palace is always the best.

“So, you’ve made quite a splash in the news” her father asks as Wonik goes and pick up a crying Jiho, it hasn’t been easy for the kids and it is quite evident.

“Jealous?” “Proud” he answers as he continues to sip on his coffee. ___ hasn’t done much lately to make her father proud, she doesn’t like that this validation makes her feel better.

“Especially what you spoke at the women’s development club speech, you were in such a rare form, reminded me of the ___ who would destroy kids on her debate club” he remembers that ___ vividly a 15-year-old in her school uniform who’d debate a topic to death, even if she didn’t agree with it.

“You chose well with Kim Taehyung, he puts a tough fight with Ms Kim but he’s always looking out to serve you, he really sees you in a way none of us do” he says and all ___ can do is smile. It’s just been two months of having Taehyung on her team, and on most days, he makes the role of a royal princess much less suffocating than it did before. ___ was thankful beyond words, there had been a growing affection there, or rather respect.

Yoongi is up before ___, he’s still on New York time. He brings out the suitcase full of trader joe snacks and starts arranging them into the surprisingly empty kitchen, wondering if she ever cooks at home.

“You’re up early” ___ remarks as she ties her robe as she walks out her room. Yoongi took the liberty of having some groceries delivered, he can’t cook with all the snacks she has.

“I had a call and what do you eat, you didn’t even have any spices?” Yoongi asks as he folds an omelette. For today’s breakfast, it’s soyabean soup, kimchi, omelette and rice.

“I usually eat takeout between getting ready for events or at the events, I have cooked at home a few times tho” ___ says as gets started with the coffee. She needs coffee before any food, especially after this bad night of sleeping.

“And what was that, toast?” “Popcorn” ___ answer just makes Yoongi scoff. “Sit down and eat this before you drink any coffee, no coffee on an empty stomach” Yoongi instructs snatching the coffee cup from ___’s hand and forcing her to sit and eat.

“For today, what do you want to do?” ___ had reserved her Friday for Yoongi, just lots of catching up, eating and drinking. But she asks him none the less, hoping he has something more exciting on his mind.

“I told Haein that we could take Jia shopping, Jia has been having a tough time with the press, media and feeling different in school, afternoon with her and then we can get drunk at home, you could even “cook” some popcorn” Yoongi says and ___ scowls at his cook remark.

“Sounds fun, what are you buying Jia and me, expensive dresses, expensive shoes oh, oh, expensive jewellery-“ “Stationary, since Jia is seven I’m buying her stationary. I found this cool store that makes a bunch of fun pieces” Yoongi explains as ___ takes a big bite of rice, home made does taste different, maybe she should start cooking, or hire a cook.

“Ma’am, His Royal Highness, Prince Consort has asked to see you at his office, urgently” Namjoon says as he walks into the living room, interrupting Yoongi explaining his tour plan.

“Urgent what, everyone is alive and well right?” “Yes, he didn’t mention what it was about but both your royal highness and Mr Taehyung have been asked to come see him, immediately” Namjoon explains and ___ looks at Yoongi with confusion, what could it possibly be.

___’s led to her fathers’ office, wondering what caused him to ask for her urgently. Namjoon keeps the door open for her and she immediately catches her father who stays seated with his arms crossed. What causes her to stop functioning her for a second is the man in a suit, dishevelled and tired man in suit who immediately stands up to bow.

“Jungkook?” ___ simply asks and he barely looks her in the eye, she turns around for answers but her father has the blank face that he usually does. To her left stand Ms Kim and Taehyung, but it’s only Taehyung who has a worried look on his face.

“___ why don’t you sit down, Ms Kim will start explaining things” her father says and ___ still very confused takes a seat on the sofa beside Jungkook. She turns around to look at him again, but he just continues to stare at his hands.

“My office was contacted by Dispatch, to let us know that they are planning to release the following pictures on sunday” Ms Kim says as she hands ___ a folder, she’s the only one who doesn’t have this folder.

Flipping it open, her heart sinks the second she sees the first picture, of her kissing Jungkook’s cheek on the balcony. Her hands are clammy as she flips to see the second one, and it’s of Jungkook and ___ at the after party, talking. To add to her fears, there is a third one, one where Jungkook held her hand and lead her to one of the hotel rooms. She stares at the last one before finally looking up.

“They’re set on releasing these pictures, but we’re worried about what the reaction might be to your royal highness being in a hotel room with Mr Jeon” Ms Kim talks and ___ once again turns to look at Jungkook who is looking at her this time. But his eyes aren’t the same, they look hurt and deceived.

“What reaction, we went into the hotel room to talk, if someone was there taking pictures they would have also seen me leave, minutes after” ___ yells as she stands up, throwing the pictures on the coffee table.

“Ma’am that does not matter, this still looks like you and Mr Jeon were, um, intimate” Ms Kim barely mumbles the last part and ___ looks at Taehyung, really hoping he says something.

“So, after some discussion with Ms Kim and Mr Taehyung, we have come to the conclusion that post the pictures are released, we announce that you and Mr Jeon have been dating for six months now. It can’t look like you went into a hotel room with a man you barely knew” Mr Min says and ___ can hear Jungkook taking a very deep breath.

“What is so wrong with that father?” “It questions your decision making, it makes you look impulsive, it makes you look easy-“ “Oh shut up will you” “No I will not shut up ___, post the announcement there will be a several of activities and pictures to make the two of you look like a solid royal couple. In eight months, we will announce that the two of you are engaged” the more her father speaks, the more it’s making her head spin.

“We absolutely don’t need to do that” “___ you haven’t realised that you are a royal princess and not a common civilian, you don’t get to sleep with someone when the public knows of it and now that the public will know of it, you have to make it look like it was because of a solid relationship and not just a minute of misjudgement” Mr Min is now standing as he starts to get agitated explaining all of this.

“Ms Kim, Taehyung can you leave, I need to discuss a few more things” Mr Min says and the two walk out immediately as they close the door behind them.

“I’ve discussed this with Mr Jeon, we have come to a wager” Mr Min says and ___ once again looks at him, what could he possibly be getting out of this to agree to this.

“Last night, Golden Studio’s only investor pulled out their investment, they wanted managerial control with the growing success and Mr Jeon refused. Without any investment company backing then, the company would go bankrupt in matter in 180 days. So, with my connections, I have found an investor that has agreed to invest without any managerial control” Mr Min shares and ___ is starting to connect the dots, this must have been the work disaster that he was talking about before absolute silence.

“So, in return for that you’re forcing him to marry me, how is that fair to him?” “___ get this through your head once and for all, that you are a woman and not a man, people will not excuse a royal woman caught up in this, all this is happening because of your misjudgement, I wouldn’t have gotten involved if it wasn’t for you” her father sounds and ___ takes a step back.

“These pictures will make the public question not just your character but the families as well, the queen’s character. The public is barely starting to accept and think of us as the royal family, but with this without any follow up, will not help it at all” he continues talking and ___ takes support against a wall, wanting to be as far away from Jungkook as possible.

“And as you promised to me five years ago, you are obliged to go through with anything that helps with your position as the royal princess, and this unfortunately is one of those things that you have to comply with, without any arguing” Mr Min continues talking mostly to his daughter and Jungkook can’t help but wonder why he even called her that night.

“Jungkook you don’t have to do this, you can find another company-“ “No your royal highness, I can’t, I haven’t slept for the last 48 hours and have tired everything and this is the only solution that has presented itself. No investment company wants to touch my company because of my stipulations. If I don’t take this deal I’ll be forced to delay launching a game that we have been working on for the last three years, lay people off, tarnish our reputation and force me to loose something I’ve put my life into” Jungkook finally speaks up and there is this iciness in his eyes that disturbs ___.

“For all intents and purposes the two of you are a real couple to the country, the world, news, your family, friends, each and every person excluding us, Ms Kim, Mr Taehyung and Mr Jeon’s assistant” Mr Min says as he finally sits down. ___ doesn’t feel all this to be real, just a very bad nightmare, where the man she thought liked here looks at her with fury.

“This marriage is going to be a royal one, so there’s no out, no divorce, you two together for all of this now, for the rest of your lives” Mr Min’s words are ringing in Jungkook’s ears, he feels claustrophobic, the nauseous feeling very much back.

Jungkook hasn’t had an easy life, his parents passed away in a car accident, they were on their way back from work and suddenly the cars break failed, causing them to collide with a wall and dying, right at impact. This happened when he was 7, and over 20 years later, he still has the memory of his mother’s best friend telling him what happened late that night.

Jungkook was right away adopted by his mother’s best friend and her husband, his grandmother was too old to take care of him and his mother’s mother never wanted to see him again. That was the first time in his life that he felt the feeling of having no control over his life. He remembers crying about the loss of his parents and adjusting with his new family in bed for years. He just wanted to stay at his home, at his family home, but he was forced to go live at some strange house.

Jungkook worked at one of the biggest tech companies right out of college at 21. For the initial few months, he was excited, thrilled, worked 12-hour days happily. But about 2 years in he was assigned a project that involved using private, vulnerable data to influence them into buying products that make their life even worse. That was the first time in his adult life he realised that he didn’t have any control over his life, to companies like these, they were a mere data point to be manipulated.

When he started his company at 24, the initial money came from the settlement money from the car manufactures that caused his parents death. Jungkook vowed to never have outside investors, he knows how these companies worked, investing in companies and controlling them for their gain. He never wanted to have the feeling of not having control over his life, so any investor that they did talk to was made clear, no managerial control.

But this minute as he sits and listen to Mr Min and ___ fight is the most he’s felt that he has no control over his life. He’s agreed to completely let go any control of his personal life to save his company and Jungkook isn’t sure how he feels about it. But he knows that he feels sick.

Mr Min leave, asking the two of them to talk to each other while he goes and discusses a few things with the press secretaries. There a harsh silence in this office, Jungkook had deluded himself into looking at ___ as just ___, but if today is any proof, he should have only seen her as a princess.

“You were right that night, I should have just stayed home” ___ finally speaks up as she takes the seat beside him once again. But the close proximity to her is suddenly making him feel uncomfortable, evident by how he stands up.

“I, um, just got swept away with the infatuation of it all and now we’re in this mess” ___ continues talking as Jungkook sips on some water, looking a bit shaky still.

“Jungkook, you know I don’t want this, I have no part in this, I am just part of this unforgiving system that I don’t want to be in” ___’s vomiting words right now, because she very desperately needs Jungkook on her side.

“I don’t want to do this to you, you have to believe me Jungkook” “What does me believing you even change now your royal highness? It doesn’t change this situation at all” Jungkook finally speaks up, the two red bulls he drank earlier finally kicking in.

“Look, we can just think of this as an challenge and do our best to harness any real feelings we have for each other-“ “Ma’am, let me make myself very clear, any feelings of affection I had for you have now been replaced with obligation” Jungkook’s voice is strained but firm, ___ definitely understands what he’s trying to tell, and it breaks her heart.

“Jungkook don’t be like this” ___ pleads as she stands up herself, and Jungkook just scoffs looking her straight in the eyes.

“Don’t be like what? Ma’am you don’t know me well enough but I lost my parents to a brutal accident when I was 7 and it made me realise just how much I don’t like it when I don’t have control over my life. But here I am, giving up control to the most intimate parts of my life to save my company. So, please don’t ask me to find any feelings for you right now, because even if I try very hard, I can’t seem to find them” Jungkook answers very candidly as he buttons his jacket, his phone has been going off all morning, he needs to be back at the office.

“So, please don’t ask me to find feelings for you as I watch the plans of my personal future slip away” Jungkook can see just how much his words are affecting her, her eyes on the brink of tears but she’s fighting them still.

___ wants to argue, tell him that it’s not all that bad, they can make it work, if they try really really hard, but she can also see the emotional walls he’s starting to put up around himself.

“Please your royal highness, excuse me, I am needed back at the office, the place where I still have some control”

The office is filled with people, Han had arranged for everyone to be around when the game goes live and the celebratory vibe around Jungkook is starting to feel like mockery.

“Where the hell have you been?” Seokjin asks as he rushes out his office the second he spots Jungkook, as the CEO he wants to yell at him, ask him where he’s been all this while he waited for a word from him, but as a brother he’s deeply concerned by what he sees. Jungkook looks disoriented, pale and shaky, it’s very concerning.

“I…I, went to the roof and fell asleep on a bench” Jungkook says truthfully, on his way back from the royal office, instead of going straight to his office, he went to the roof to think, and smoke and promptly fell asleep.

“What? Jungkook are you okay? Do you have a fever?” Seokjin asks as he immediately checks his temperature and he’s shockingly cold, too cold.

“So, Mr Black is going to send over the contract, they are doubling the investing amount, helping us expand and market in the west and are completely okay with no managerial control, apparently he does this just because he sees potential in good business and not for control which is shocking. Also, there’s going to be some news about me and my girlfriend soon, but that’s mostly out of my control, it’s not all bad, but it’s definitely something. And I talked to our server company and they have assured me that the servers will be incredibly the best right as the game launches. Also, I’ve had five red bulls today and what time is it” Jungkook keeps rambling on as Jin drags his brother into his office, the concern only keeps growing as Jungkook keeps babbling.

“Jungkook drink this water and sit here, I’m going to go get Han” Jin instructs handing him a bottle of water from his table and asking his assistant to go get Han.

The water starts to help with the dehydration, but the migraine is only growing. Jungkook continues drinking from a second bottle as Han and Jin walk into the office again.

“He’s drank five red bulls and given how sensitive he is to caffeine, should we take him to a hospital?” “I know a doctor, I’ll ask him to come check on him, you take the contracts to legal and see to that, I’ll take care of him” Han instructs and with a few more cautious looks Jin finally leaves.

“Jungkook, do you have any chest pains” “Yes, my heart hurts” Jungkook answers as he unscrews the third bottle but doesn’t drink anyway. His statement only causes Han to panic even more as he scrambles around for his phone.

“Han, stop, listen to me, I made a deal with the Prince Consort, for the investment, tomorrow they’re going to announce that her and I have been dating for six months, that we met through mutual friends and have been getting to know each other well with plans of future of some crap, and in eight months, apparently I’m going have to propose to her and after that we are going to spend the rest of our lives together, oh my god I think I’m having a panic attack”

As Jungkook lays on the floor of his brother’s office, the consequences of what he’s agreed to are starting to dawn on him. Today was supposed to be one of the happiest day of his life, but he can use today to pin point today as the day his life officially left his hands. But the second he shuts his eyes, the image of sitting in that hotel room comes into his head, when will he start to forget about that night.

“Good suggestion, it is definitely too loud outside” ___ says it the second they exit the rooftop, Jungkook is quite tipsy himself and all he wants to do it reach over and hold her hand.

“Mingyu gave me a hotel room, he just wants me to sleep for 12 hours and not think of work” Jungkook says as he flashes a hotel key the moment they reach the hallway. ___’s starting to over thing all of this, she shouldn’t have texted him, she shouldn’t have come here, but she really wanted to see him and she’s had about a half bottle of wine.

“You’re stumbling a lot, how much did you drink?” ___ asks as Jungkook slumps against the door, struggling with the key card, but on the sixth try, the door finally swings open and Jungkook almost falls on his face, but ___ holds his hand and stabilizes him right on time.

“Your hands are very cold, unusually cold, you should see a doctor about it” Jungkook says as he pulls her in and shuts the door behind them. ___ laughs, finding this honest and unleashed Jungkook hilarious.

“Maybe, my hands are cold because I was standing on a roof in a hoddie and jeans and your hands are so warm because you’ve been drinking” ___ says and Jungkook takes a seat on the bed while she continues to stand in front of him.

“You were shining like the sun today, you looked like hope” Jungkook giggles as he flops back on bed, sitting up is just taking too much effort at this point. ___ is struck with his observation, she received a lot of compliments today, but this one is by far the best one.

“Like hope?” “Yes, the kind of hope, not in the way people usually mean it…but the kind that sneaks up on you when you’ve stopped expecting it” Jungkook barely stands up on the bed again, and he’s starting to sober up seeing just how sad she looks. He stands up in a panic when the tears finally escape her eyes.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, did…did, I say something wrong,” Jungkook asks as his hands rake through his hair, he should have just kept drinking more outside, or kept his mouth shut.

“No, um, I should go, I’ve had a lot of wine and I have to speak at a college tomorrow and I should go” ___ is just hit with all of it, why did he even see any hope, she doesn’t have any, in herself or to give, she’s quite hopeless.

“Hey, I’m sorry” Jungkook says as he holds her back by her wrist the second she turns around. This was going so well, right up till he opened his big giant mouth.

“Don’t be, you should go out there, celebrate your success, we’ll talk later” ___ rids of his hand in one swift movement and Jungkook’s left there standing, wondering, overthinking.

Yoongi knows something is off, ___ was excited for his visit but all the sudden she’s quite and shut off. They were supposed to go shopping and spend time together, but she showed up home to late to do any of that. He definitely smelt cigarettes on her this morning as she’s oddly quite, still on her phone.

“___, we have that family dinner today, how about we go shopping before that?” Yoongi suggests as she continues to munch on her dry toast, that’s all she can stomach right now.  ___’s been told by Ms Kim to tell Yoongi and her family about Jungkook, before the news comes out today at midnight and she still hasn’t been able to iron out a story to lie about.

“I actually have to go see my boyfriend” she says as she cautiously watches Yoongi’s reaction and to just as expected, he’s choking on his coffee right as she says that. She could very easily lie to the rest of the world, but lying to Yoongi is difficult.

“What, who, which boyfriend, WHAT” Yoongi asks as he completely disregards his coffee and comes and sit on the sofa beside her.

“Well, um, Jungkook,-“ “You’re dating him, he’s your boyfriend?” “Of six months” ___ says and Yoongi stands up in shock of it all, she tells him everything, every good and bad thing, how has this not been told yet.

“How, why, how has it not come up yet” Yoongi asks incredulously, ___ once called him between a bad date, how did a boyfriend of six months not come up yet. Yoongi wonders what else has been going on with her that he doesn’t know about.

“Because I didn’t even know if it was real at first, he doesn’t really fit the model of boyfriend that the press or even mom and dad are expecting,” ___ did take some notes to get her story right, she can’t just be freeballing this.

“why is that?” “He has tattoos, an arm full of them, at a point he used to have a lip piercing, he doesn’t come from a chaebol family, he has a video game business and not some boring finance or business thing, he has stated his political opinions out loud, to the press, he’s, he is,” ___ stops for a second as she tries to breath away that panicky feelings she’s been getting.

“He speaks out about the issues he believes in rather than being diplomatic about it, he’s kinda clumsy, his family, um, he was adopted and spends a lot of time with orphaned children” ___ says and Yoongi exhales sitting back besides her.

“He sounds like a wonderful, strong headed, caring and generous man” Yoongi says softly and ___ doesn’t say anything but rather leans her head on his shoulder.

“So, why didn’t tell me about him, earlier, or much rather after the first date?” Yoongi asks as he rubs her hand, ___’s clearly still struggling with something.

“Because I wasn’t sure if I wanted him in all this, my world, as a royal, with all the press, media and attention” ___ says that knowing full well Jungkook is about to enter her world with full force, without having any say in it.

“Well, it’s simple, do you love him?” Yoongi’s question stumps her, the dry toast coming back up the more she thinks about it. There’s no option here, and Jungkook’s made it very clear that she’s just an obligation to him.

“Yes” “It’s simple then, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have stuck around for six months without realising the reality that comes with your title” the more Yoongi talks the more ___ realises just what a horrible thing she’s doing to Jungkook.

___ hoping Yoongi doesn’t have any more questions, because just thinking and lying about this situation is depressing her. To her surprise, she’s saved by the doorbell and knows exactly who is on the other side, exactly why she’s dressed in business formals on a Saturday morning.

Yoongi swings the door open as ___ picks up her handbag, but there’s one more thing she might have forgotten to tell him.

“Taehyung? What are you doing here? ___ why is your ex-boyfriend doing here?” Yoongi asks and the two of them look at each other awkwardly.

“He’s my press secretary” “Why is your ex-boyfriend your press secretary-“ “Because he’s good at his job and can you stop calling him my ex-boyfriend, people can’t know about it” ___’s not even dazed with this secret now, she has a much bigger one to keep.

“I’m sorry for being a bit late, I was at the hospital and the discharge was a struggle” Jungkook’s voice breaks the weird tension that has taken over the conference room as Han helps him sit down. ___ sits up as she spots the IV bag that was wheeled into the room with him.

“What happened?” ___ asks from across the table, for some weird reason the sitting arrangement ended up with Jungkook and her being at the two ends of the table and it’s only adding to the tension.

“Mr Jeon was taken to the hospital post launch for severe dehydration-“ “I’m fine” Jungkook cuts off Han who just nods, opening the file that has been waiting for them. The sole purpose of this meeting is to get their stories straight, and thanks to their press people, they will have the perfect fairy tale story by the end of it.

“First off, congratulations Mr Jeon and company, the news has been very favourable since the launch last night-“ “Can we get straight to the point, my work is not being controlled by the royal family” Jungkook’s harsh tone is biting, but ___ can’t help but notice how pale and frail he still looks.

“Okay, first thing on the agenda is getting our stories straight, do the both of you have any input?” Taehyung asks as shifts in his seat, Jungkook’s glare is piercing and he doesn’t know how to neutralize this tension.

“Mr Taehyung, right? I’m sure you already have a story prepared based on research, so how about you just tell us what it is, instead of asking for our input” Jungkook is still clearly very angry, but all ___ can do right now is nod and ask Taehyung to proceed.

Taehyung sits up and starts sharing the perfectly crafted story. About eight months ago, both of them attended a charity gala, that’s the first time they met. They connected over shared interests, spend time in private to avoid media attention. But with the picture coming out, they’ve decided to be share about the relationship in an effort for more transparency from the royals. They way they’re spinning their match in the media consists around the simple though of how their union combines the tradition of the royal family with the modernity that Jungkook brings in.

“To get ahead Dispatch, I think it would be the best if Mr Jeon attended the dinner today for the Prince Consorts birthday. I will tip of another paparazzi about it and place them for pictures as her royal highness princess ___ and Mr Jeon enter the restraunt. Those pictures being released prior to the dispatch ones are essential to establish this as a committed, serious relationship” Taehyung stops talking for a second to take in the mood of the room and it’s even more tense now as ___’s eyes stay fixed on Jungkook for any reaction while he continues to stare at the report in front of him.

“He’s too sick for a dinner-“ “I’m not, what time am I expected?” Jungkook interrupts ___ and she sighs, leaning back in the chair. Looking around the Golden Studio office, she can see the remnants of yesterday’s celebrations.

“Around 7:30, pick up ma’am from her place-“ “No, my brother’s staying at my place, it’s best if I meet him outside the restraunt, I can’t take a car ride with him and Yoongi” ___ can imagine the amount of questions or rather the interrogation that would take place and they’re bound to break in front of him.

“Alright-“ “Do I need to pick up a gift? I can’t come empty handed if the motive of this meeting is also to make the royal family like me” Jungkook asks as he looks ___ directly in the eyes, his eyes are very void of any emotions and that disturbs her.

“My father likes wine, so I’ve bought him an old French bottle, we can say that it’s from the both of us. Don’t wear a suit tonight, we’ve decided to keep it causal so just dress pants, a shirt and a sweater, I can have my stylist drop off-“ “I am capable of dressing myself” Jungkook interrupts her as he looks away and she just nods going back to looking around.

“Alright, I’m still trying to iron out the possible public and private spotting that will happen. The statement to announce the relationship will be made by our office and when asked for a comment on the same the reply from Mr Jeon’s office is going to be the same.” Taehyung is now talking mostly to Han as the two people in this relationship are focused looking elsewhere.

“Hi mother, how are you doing?” ___ asks as she walks out the conference room, standing by one of the windows as she looks out at the sunny February day.

“I am good, your father and I went on a hike this morning, very refreshing” a chipper queen responds and ___ just sighs as she gears up for what she’s about to ask.

“So, I have been dating someone for a while now, and I was thinking that today is the perfect day for him to meet my family. With all of us around, the pressure won’t be as heavy on him” ___ is getting good at this lying thing because given how soft his voice is, she sounds believable.

“Would that someone be Mr Jeon Jungkook?” “Yes, how’d you know?” ___’s voice is panicked for a moment wondering if she too knows about their arrangement.

“You attended a party for his game launch, it’s not usually the kind of event you’d attend as a royal princess. And based on the pictures from that night, it looked like he was delighted to have you there” her mother’s words just remind ___ of Jungkook from that day and she can’t control the tear that rolls off her cheek.

“Yes, and Jungkook’s excited and a bit nervous to see you all, I just wanted your go ahead before I talk to him about this” the queen hasn’t met any of ___’s boyfriend yet, and she doesn’t hide her excitement as she says yes.

“How long have the two of you been together” “Six months, it’s getting quite serious so I thought now would be a good time for everyone to meet him” ___ talks with a clenched fist as she breaths really hard, trying not to break down.

“That’s wonderful ___, I’m looking forward to meeting him” “I’ll see you later” ___ turns around to go back to the conference room to give everyone the conformation but gets startled when she catches Jungkook waiting for her.

“My mother gave her go ahead” she says as she takes a shaky breath. The stiffness between them grows stronger but no one does anything to help it.

“I need to take a few press calls about the launch, Han will brief me on everything later” Jungkook answers and she nods. He watches as he opens her mouth twice, but just moves forward with silence.

___ takes her seat in the conference room, letting every one of the queen’s approval. Han and Taehyung continue to discuss possible event they can attend together, ironing out as many details they can foresee. Thanks to the glass walls in this office, ___ watches as Jungkook takes a seat in his office and immediately starts working.

“I’ll just let Jungkook know that we’re leaving, can you pick up dad’s gift from the kitchen” ___ asks Yoongi as she finishes putting on her heels and shoots off a quick text to Jungkook. She shuts off her phone when he sends back an okay.

“It’s strange to me that one moment I don’t know you have a boyfriend and the next he’s meeting our entire family” Yoongi talks as he comes and finds her in the foyer. Her brother hasn’t been sceptical about this, he’s rather been teasing her about the whole situation.

“I usually come to you when the relationship is turbulent, when we’re clearly not right for each other, but it’s been different with him” ___ says in hopes that it settles this once and all with Yoongi but he just gives her a pursed smile.

“But shouldn’t you be breaking him into this gently, I’m a bit hurt that given how close we are you didn’t choose for me to meet him before the rest of the family does” Yoongi presses further as he picks the car keys and ___ follows him, taking deep breaths.

“I thought the pressure on him would be less if he meet everyone together as a group and then individually for you, I’m just trying to look out for him” ___ explains as they wait for the elevator to come up. Yoongi doesn’t say anything he just nods.

The drive to the restraunt feels exceptionally small but ___ knows they’ve reaches as she spots Jungkook standing right by the entrance. Yoongi can feel how nervous ___ is with her constantly fixing her hair and shaking leg.

“Look, your man is waiting for you, with flowers” Yoongi jokes trying to lighten the atmosphere as he stops the car right by the valet. ___ can’t even hear him at this point, there’s this loud ringing in her head and she had a pit in her stomach, feeling as tho things are about to fall apart.

Jungkook’s squinting his eyes as he tries to see if this is ___, he’s hoping that it is, because he’s not prepared to face her parents all by herself. To his relief ___ steps out the car and it’s right at that point when a car whizzes past her.

“Be careful!” Jungkook yells and the surroundings are starting to sink into ___, how she was just about to be hit by a car, would not be the worst thing to happen today.

“I’m fine” she tells both the men and Yoongi stares at her with concern, her head’s been scattered all day, he noticed it first when she tried to pour coffee without having a mug there and then forgetting to zip up her dress.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks once again as she’s walking closer to him, for a second, he’s forgotten just now nervous he is about all this.

“I’m good, Yoongi, Jungkook, Jungkook, Yoongi” she introduces the two men who share a small handshake and Jungkook looks at the two of them just as blankly as he did this morning.

“No need to be so scared man, it’s not like you’re meeting the royal family” Yoongi jokes and Jungkook chuckles awkwardly and ___ plasters on the practiced smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, ___’s told me so much about you” Jungkook’s starting the lying early so that he’s practiced when he meets the rest and given Yoongi’s wide smile as his eyes shift between the couple, Jungkook’s feels like he’s doing a good job.

“I can’t say the same because I didn’t even know she was dating someone until this morning” ___ can feel the interrogation coming and she has to find a way to distract Yoongi before it begins.

“Why don’t you go in, we’ll be there in a few minutes” ___ isn’t asking her brother, but rather pushing him away and Jungkook just smiles tightly as he watches the man walk away. Once he’s out of their earshot, both of them take a big sigh of relief, trying to remember what comes next.

“Okay, so I saw the cameras earlier, they’re right by the trees” Jungkook talks looking at his feet as he fidgets with the flowers. Recalling Taehyung’s instructions, she reaches and straightens his jacket. The strange movement causes Jungkook to look at her strange, but he has the realisation a second later.

“My family’s going to want you to talk rather me, so short sentences, no political comments and compliment my mother’s bracelet, tell her how I told you the story of the bracelet and my father proposing with a bracelet rather a ring on his birthday, stick to business with Wonik, and don’t go into any one-on-one conversations with Yoongi, Got it?” ___ asks looking up at Jungkook, her eyes scanning him to look for anything else that is out of place.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, despite the nerves swirling inside him, he takes a hold of his hand, just as Taehyung asked them to. The move would be comforting if it wasn’t so strategic.

The restraunt is warm and smells of wood and fire, the entire place was reserved for the royal family who Jungkook spots right away. Under the warm lights they don’t feel as scary as they smile back at him. He gingerly lets go of her hand as he bows, greeting them all based on protocol and the people around her laugh and his worst horrors are starting to come true.

“Why are they laughing?” Jungkook whispers as he leans closer to ___ and she is smiling herself, a fond little smile.

“You’re supposed to greet my mother first, then Wonik, then my father and then Haein” ___ explains as she pulls them closer to their seats besides her Yoongi, Jungkook is all frazzled already and he’s so ready to give up on this dinner.

“It’s fine Mr Jeon, our family is not big on these formalities anyways, we’re still trying to fit into our roles” her mother says as the couple takes their seats, Jungkook knowing that they’re on display does what most gentleman would do. Pull ___’s chair out for her.

“Where are the kids?” ___ asks Wonik and Haein, she was hoping that the kids would be around to take all of the adult’s attention.

“It’s past their bed time ___” Wonik answers as the server comes around to fill their glasses of wine. Jungkook has been told very seriously to not drink for at least a week, but he doesn’t want to be rude.

“Are you supposed to be drinking?” ___ whispers to Jungkook as Wonik and her father go back to discussing the upcoming royal tour.

“I’m not but I also don’t want to be rude” Jungkook whispers and his hot breath on her ear derails her train of thought, but her mother’s eye on them brings her right back.

“Don’t drink, excuse me, don’t fill his glass, he’s still recovering from being sick” ___ speaks up for him and it comforts him for a bit, evident by the small shy smile he has as he looks around.

There are rounds of congratulations to Jungkook, apparently everyone on this table has been keeping tabs on the new launch. Jungkook starts looking at them like a normal family as the cake comes around. It’s all going better than expected and it shocks the both of them.

“So, how’d you two meet?” the dreaded question comes around as the dinner is being served and Jungkook takes the initiative knowing they want him to talk.

“We were both at the charity gala hosted in Busan about seven months ago. Everyone I talked to was looking forward to talking to the princess, or talking about the princess or talking how beautiful the princess looked” he stops for a second to pass ___ a smile and trying to feel if the room is responding to what he’s saying.

“And when she came around to our table, we just struck up a conversation about my upcoming trip to New York and her vacation in Thailand” Jungkook answers and ___ tries to hide her look of shock the best she can as Jungkook speaks verbatim from the script Taehyung handed to them.

Another person on the table who is quite amused at how well Jungkook is handling all this is Mr Min and he doesn’t try to hide it at all.

“The more we talked, the more I realised just how warm, funny and grounded she is and it’s been months since then and thank fully we’re still talking” Jungkook delivers excellently and Mr Min who previously had no confidence in him sits in shock as the rest of the table eats up their story, just like the rest of the country will too.

“When I learnt that ___ was bringing a boyfriend to this dinner, I was quite shocked, while we have known most of her boyfriends, we haven’t had the privilege of meeting them” Mr Min asks in an attempt to put them on the spot, this is the best place for them to practice talking about the relationship.

“Well, um, I am not the same ___ I used to be years ago and whether I like it or not, who I date does affect all of us as the royal family now. And as much we’ve loved being together in private, I would like to go to a café with my boyfriend and go on a vacation with him” ___ is definitely scrambling but the reassuring look Jungkook gives her helps for sure.

“What I mean by all that rambling is that, I care about him very deeply and what we’ve found with each other is rare and my hope by bringing him to meet all of you is an attempt to do all this right. I, um, I love him” her voice dips at the last sentence, the weight of it all feels heavy on her heart but just as written on the script, she speaks despite not being able to at first. Her mother and Yoongi are smiling, so she must have convinced him.

“You must go on a vacation after all the work you’ve been putting in, do you have any specific locations in mine. I’m looking for ideas too, because we haven’t been on one, in four years” the queen asks candidly and Jungkook chuckles nervously as he tries to think of an answer.

“We’ve been discussing Hawaii, but I would strongly recommend Switzerland, I took my family there for a vacation last year and it’s truly breathtaking” Jungkook’s eyes wander between the two parents and the tight smile on Mr Min’s face is an indication that he’s been doing well.

Jungkook talks a bit more about his Swiss vacation and ___ is absolutely in awe of how well he is doing. How eloquent he is when he talks to Wonik about the new business developments from around the country. But of course, he is charming, a bit different from the day he first met her, but still very charming.

“Jungkook was in rare form, despite the twitching every now and then. But you need to put a lot more work, you were all shaky and nervous” Mr Min says as the rest of the family including Jungkook walks ahead of them, ready to head home.

“Thanks for the feedback father, oh happy 65th birthday too, I hope you stop meddling with my life as the wisdom of old age dawn on you” ___ speaks with gritted teeth as she moves ahead to catch up with Wonik and Jungkook, who are still talking about the economy or something.

“___ you did well” the queen tells ___ as her mother circles an arm around her. There is no doubt that she is impressed by Jungkook, not just as the queen but also a mother.

“You think the public will like him too?” ___ asks with genuine concern as her gaze drifts to Jungkook. He looks much more confident now, at least one of them should be.

“What is important is that you love him-“ “and how easy he is to control, ‘No he won’t be drinking, he’s still recovering’” Yoongi mimics ___’s tone from earlier and she laughs dryly as she swats her brother. If someone were to look at them from a distance right now, they’d look like a normal family.

The parents leave after final pleasantries with Jungkook, ___ watches as he exhales deeply the moment, they car drives away. The same can’t be said for ___ because she’s tense as ever.

“You did good today, the day I met the parents went much worse” Haein tells Jungkook as they wait for the rest of the cars to arrive. Jungkook hasn’t had a chance to talk to her much, but he’s thankful regardless.

“It wasn’t that bad” Wonik pipes in and Haein chuckles as she thinks back to that day. “Oh it was bad, we were already engaged and I met the parents on a complete accident because all of us happened to be in the Hamptons, if it were up to Wonik, I wouldn’t have ever met the parents” Haein shares and the group laughs, more relaxed laughter now.

“I was scared to introduce her only and only because of dad, no matter how amazing our partners are, he always scrutinizes them and I only wanted to shelter you off that” Wonik claims and Haein scoffs, Yoongi can’t even fathom to find the courage to introduce his parents to Jimin yet.

“Well, thankfully ___ has always been his least favourite so Jungkook was saved of the scrutiny” Wonik teases but it causes Jungkook to look at her with a raised eyebrow, she just stiffens up more with her tight smile and crossed arms.

“She’s definitely not his least favourite, I have been wearing that crown proudly for years” Yoongi chimes in an attempt to neutralize the situation. Jungkook’s starting to understand just how complicated this family is now.

“But you’re mom’s favourite and she’s the queen, she’s quite literally the head of the country” Wonik comments and the joking tone has now been replaced with a more serious one. Yoongi chuckles dryly, wondering why are they talking about this.

In Jungkook’s eyes, the evening went fine, better than expected other than the last few moments outside the restaurant. But based on how quiet ___ is in as he drives, he’s starting to wonder otherwise.

“Are you cold, should I turn up the heat higher?” Jungkook finally breaks the ice and the princess just nods as she rubs her hands together. Jungkook noticed her shivering the second they stepped out the restaurant.

Jungkook can’t handle the quietness, but he also doesn’t have the energy or the courage to talk, so he just turns on the radio. And to his dismay, it’s a soft romantic song, it’s like the radio is mocking him. ___ watches and Jungkook stops on a red light and try to find some appropriate music on his Spotify.

“What kind of music do you like?” ___ asks as she turns to him ever so slightly, he looks at her for a second too long with a puzzled look before the car behind them honks.

“Soft pop, rnb… ballads” he answers as he zooms through the empty streets, it’s pretty close to midnight and they’re just minutes away from the disastrous pictures coming online.

“It suits you” she says as he looks around his mercedes in a bleak attempt to get to know him better. Theres’s sanitizer and hand cream where the coffee cups should be, at least he cares about his hands.

Jungkook’s about to ask something himself, but he’s cut off by her ringing phone which she picks up with a frown.

“Yes Taehyung?” she asks with a flat tone and Jungkook is tries to focus in as much as he can to listen to the call, despite the pop music he put on.

“The dinner went well, the queen clearly liked him, so did Wonik and those are the only two people in my family who’s approval matters right now” her tone is biting and she’s clearly still bothered by what Wonik said earlier.

“Why are they even there? Isn’t it unsafe for them to know where I live?” ___’s agitated as she massages her forehead, the cigarette smoking is clearly getting to her.

“FINE Taehyung it’s just, alright” she hands up and leans back with a sigh, Jungkook looks at her a couple times, wanting to know what the call was about. She finally catches his eye and she’s clutching her hair with frustration before she starts talking.

“Apparently, there’s hidden paparazzi outside my apartment building and Taehyung wants us to put a show for the cameras, to drown the hotel pictures that are coming out” she shares and Jungkook’s starting to tense up more as the hotel pictures are mentioned.

“Show how?” “Physical affection, something that will counteract against the pictures they already have of us. Something that gets peoples attention, a hug, maybe a kiss” ___ repeats what she was told on the phone and Jungkook looses control of the car just for a second.

“Don’t get out” Jungkook whispers the second he parks his car, she follows him as he walks towards her door and she’s taking deep breaths as she prepares herself for what’s waiting for her.

He doesn’t say anything as he swings the door open, but rather offers his hand which she takes with hesitation. She wonders if he can feel how clammy her hands are but they stay put as he closes the door behind her.

“What do we do, do we hug?” ___ asks as she notices just how surprisingly close, they’re standing, Jungkook’s hands go from her hand to her waist and close all the distance between them.

“I can’t believe my life has turned into this circus show” his tone is sharp as his arms hesitantly circle around her, this closeness brings back the nervous feeling that the two of them have been ignoring.

“I am so sorry-“ “What is you being sorry going to do now, put your hands on my chest” Jungkook instructs with a curt smile and ___ gingerly does so. From a distance, the two of them probably look like a couple caught up in an intimate moment.

“Because I feel bad for doing this to you, you can still go out and find yourself another investor, I still have to pose around with someone my father picks out” ___ explains as she finally looks him in the eye, she needs him to understand her. Jungkook just scoffs as his grip tightens around her.

“No investor is going to touch my company after one of the biggest investors in the country loses faith in us” Jungkook speaks with a smile, he’s at awe of just how badly things turned in a matter of day.

“If I don’t do this, I lose my company, people lose their jobs, something I poured my heart and soul into would become one of the many failed tech ventures and most hear breaking of it all” he keeps her hanging as his hand comes up fix her hair. The sudden touch is making her mind go in a tizzy but Jungkook seems unfazed.

“I would have poured the money I got as a part of my parent’s death settlement into a failed business rather than continue their legacy” his voice is shaky but he looks her square in the eyes, her red and wet eyes. Her chest tightens with the weight of his words, she knows how she is the absolute worst person in the world in his eyes, and she doesn’t see that changing.

“Jungkook I am so sor-“ Jungkook seizes all the distance between them with a fierce kiss, his warm lips against her freezing ones shuts off her brain entirely as the handbag drops down her shoulder and she holds him even closer by his hair. For a second the two of them entirely forget about this arrangement, they forget about the cold wind and what the future holds for them.

For a second, she almost pulls away, but Jungkook brings her back in with a violent fervour but he stops himself, their foreheads resting against each other for a second too long. He’s just doing all this for the cameras, is what she’s telling himself.

___ lights a cigarette in the kitchen as she waits for the coffee to be done. It’s been a week since the pictures came out and just how Taehyung orchestrates, the pictures of them kissing are what people focused on. She’s restrained herself from going online because if it’s anything negative it would just devastate her.

The front door opens and Namjoon comes into the kitchen followed by Taehyung as the two men give her a disappointed look.

“Your royal highness” both the men say in a unison as they bow, “The prince consort has called you 11 times today, he wants to talk to you, soon” Namjoon says and ___ grumbles sitting up on the counter, the coffee’s taking longer than expected.

“She has time tomorrow after her lectures-“ “No, I don’t want to see him right now” ___ interrupts Taehyung and Namjoon just nods as he leaves. Taehyung takes a good look at ___ and she does not look fine, unlike what she’s been texting him.

“I just wanted to share the positive response we have been getting since the pictures-“ “Oh how wonderful, people love that two people are forced to be together even tho they don’t want to” ___ tone is sarcastic as she takes another long drag.

“The plan is to slow play the relationship, despite the official announcement, we want to gently introduce people to the relationship” Taehyung says with a soft voice as he moves closer. He’s been worried sick, and part of his job is making her miserable, which makes him more miserable.

“Call it an arrangement” ___ says as she struggles with pouring herself coffee, her hands shaking with the lack of eating. Taehyung doesn’t want to berate her right now, so he moves swiftly and pours her cup while also looking around for food.

“Do you want to eat something, I can order food, or even cook something” Taehyung asks gingerly but he just hears a soft no.

“Just tell me what I have to do next” ___’s tone is curt and Taehyung complies as he briefs her on the upcoming events and duties she has lined up. For ___ everything is business as usual, she’s still carrying on with her royal duties, mind numbing work of smiling to cameras and making small talk.

It’s been a long week for Jungkook. His phone is constantly ringing with a call from either a reporter or someone he briefly knew, suddenly he’s gone from rising name in tech, to the boyfriend of the princess and it’s been taxing. But works still as usual, they’re still monitoring how the new game is going and in a weeks’ time, they have achieved the goals they set for the first quarter. This is a major victory, but Jungkook doesn’t feel like celebrating.

He leaves the conference room and walks to his office when he’s ambushed by the one of the many people he’s been dodging recently.

“Hyung? I thought you were busy with our advertising agency all day today?” Jungkook asks Jin who is currently blocking the entry into his office.

“That was yesterday and why haven’t you called me back or even texted me back” Jin asks as Jungkook stands still, thinking of a lie to make up.

“My phones been ringing like crazy, reporters and stuff” Jungkook isn’t entirely lying about it and Jin pulls Jungkook by the collar as he pulls him into the office. His brother is terrifyingly quiet as he shuts all the blinds.

“You’ve been dating someone for six months, no not just someone, Princess ___ and you met with her family, no the royal family and I find out all this from tabloids and newspapers?” Jin asks with a low voice as he rests against the table. His brother looks at him with worry and Jungkook wants to reassure him, but he can’t even reassure himself right now.

“Hyung it’s just… ___ is such a public person, I didn’t want to share something before I knew it was serious” Jungkook is thinking fast but Jin’s eyebrows stiffen as he scoffs.

“And you couldn’t trust me with that secret, your own brother?” Jin’s hurt, him dating a princess has gotten the company some weird scrutiny and he is worried about that as a CEO, but right now he’s more worried about his brother.

“It was not about trust, we were just in our own bubble” Jungkook’s answers are short because he’s still trying to think his way out of this. Jin walks and takes a seat beside him, “You do understand who you are dating right, because if this does go on, you’re promising to live a very public life?”

Jin’s question makes the migraine Jungkook’s has had for over a week, but he still musters up a bleak smile before he starts talking.

“I love her” Jungkook whispers, he doesn’t have the courage to lie about something so strong with his chest. But he can see that the simple statement is working as his brother eases and sits back on the sofa. Jungkook just did what ___ did during the dinner, a simple statement that made everyone on the table believe her.

“It’s amazing that you’ve found love, you deserve it, but are you sure you can take all the heat that comes with loving her?” Jin asks and Jungkook is starting to feel queasy with the word love being thrown around so casually.

“I um, I am not, I don’t know if I can take it all if I’m quite honest. It’s only been a week since we officially announced it and there are a few articles about me and my past that I don’t love” Jungkook stops for a second as he takes a deep shaky breath.

“But, I feel at ease when I’m around her, I’m always wondering what’s on her mind, when she smiles my problems don’t matter” Jungkook doesn’t know how he’s coming up with all this, maybe some lingering feelings from the day they first met. Jin is a bit blown away by all this, he came in hoping for all this to be nothing more than a fling but Jungkook’s words are wearing him down.

“Okay, so I guess we should arrange to meet her, you should invite her to mom and dad’s 25th anniversary celebration” Jin speaks and the terror returns to his eyes, how did he not anticipate this.

“Isn’t that too much, maybe just a dinner with you and Nari to start with” Jungkook knows he can’t keep her hidden from his family for much longer, especially when they’re making it look like a serious relationship.

“Sure, lets start there, next Saturday, at our place?” Jin asks as he stands up, it might be a Friday but there is still a ton of work that needs to be done.

“Okay, we’ll be there”

Yoongi is blabbing about how good a jacket fits but ___ could care less right now. She’s too focused as she scrolls on Instagram. People have made such cinematic edits, and the more shocking of them all are the video edits of Jungkook. People can be so creative with these and ___ just continues scrolling, not taking her eyes away even a bit.

“Clothes are just tailored better here, American brands don’t ever fit me like this” Yoongi speaks as he looks at himself in the mirror and that’s when he notices his sister hunched over her phone. Quietly, he walks by her and hunches over to see exactly what has taken her attention from shopping.

“Admiring your hot boyfriend, I can relate to that” Yoongi’s voice breaks her trance and she almost drops her phone, scrambling she checks if she didn’t accidently like the video, because that from her official profile would create some chaos.

“People are calling him the perfect hot nerd, I don’t know if that’s derogatory or not?” ___ asks referring to a specific edit of Jungkook in suits and glasses, she may have watched it one too many times.

“Hot nerd is good, do you know how rare it is for a man to be smart but also hot” Yoongi comments as the salesperson comes back with a rack of pants for him to try.

“Don’t call Jungkook hot, it’s weird” ___ exclaims with her knotted eyebrows and Yoongi just laughs as he picks up a few pieces and makes his way back into the dressing room.

“I’m stating a fact, come on, some appeal of being with Jungkook has to be how hot he is” Yoongi shouts and ___ is thankful that the owner closed the store just for them because of how embarrassing this is.

“Attractive, use attractive as the adjective” ___ interjects as she stands up herself, now that she was dragged here why not try on some jackets.

“Tell me the truth, the relationship started as a fling didn’t it. A man that hot doesn’t commit this quickly” Yoongi slides the curtains back as he looks at ___ with a cheeky smile and the blush on her face is giving him all the answers he needs.

“No it didn’t and again stop calling him hot” ___ mutters with gritted teeth as she puts on a leather jacket a few sizes too big.

“And given the article I read about his list of ex-girlfriends, he’s for sure not been into monogamy before you” Yoongi and ___ have always discussed her boyfriends of the past, this isn’t something new, but Yoongi talking about Jungkook like this feels very foreign.

“And given your skills in the bed room and I’m assuming his too-“ “Enough, we aren’t going to discuss that” ___ shouts with a stern look and very red ears. This is all the conformation Yoongi needed about this relationship being serious, ___ has always shared all the salacious details of her dating life, except once in the past when it was serious.

“That jacket is too bit for both you and Jimin” ___ notes as the sales person bills the leather jacket she had tried on earlier.

“Because it’s for Jungkook, who we are meeting for dinner, I can’t show up empty handed” Yoongi remarks and it takes a while for ___ to register what exactly was said.

“What? Why? When did you even? How did you get his number?” ___ asks as she scrambles to find her phone, she hadn’t checked her phone in a while because of all the shopping.

“Because I can’t leave without meeting him one-on-one, I got his number from Namjoon and he was quite frazzled when he picked up the call as well” Yoongi teases as ___ glares at Namjoon, her security officer isn’t explicitly told of the arrangement but he’s very perceptive and there is no way ___ would be dating someone without him knowing.

Just as she expected, there are a thread of panicked texts and a few missed calls from Jungkook. One text in all caps particularly stands out to her, WHY IS YOUR BROTHER CALLING ME

“When did you call him?” ___ asks and her voice is way too panicked. She is not prepared to pretend tonight, she isn’t mentally ready after what happened last night.

“Because you’ve been coming up with excuses to delay me meeting him properly, I went directly to the source” Yoongi’s tone is casual as he hands his card for all the damage made in just a few hours.

“He’s been busy-“ “Yes, but I’m your older brother, I need to check out the man who you seem to be making out on the streets” Yoongi teases and ___ flips him off as they make their way out.

“This is so sneaky of you” ___ whines as Namjoon and him continue to put the shopping bags in the car. ___ also texted Jungkook a He completely blindsided me and I’m so sorry to reassure him.

“Sneaky is your thing” “What’s that supposed to mean?” ___ asks with her crossed arms and Yoongi chuckles as he shuts the door behind him.

“You’re the one that kept him a secret for six months, I’m simply catching up” he remarks as he gets inside the car and ___ just huffs as she gives in.

Jungkook: Let’s just stick to the script and you handle the tough questions

___: Yes and again I apologise

Jungkook: My brother cornered me into invited you to dinner too

Jungkook: I may be a bit late, my workout went on longer than expected

___: It’s okay, I’ll see you there

They made their way to a hip new Italian restraunt from the backdoor, they are seated all the way in the back in an attempt to not gather too much attention. ___ is too nervous to focus on how cool the restraunt is, she’s trying to get back to pretend mode. She has to sell this relationship hard, because Yoongi can read her well and there can’t be any slip ups.

She’s chewing on her lip are Yoongi reads the wine list, her eyes are fixed on the backdoor, she’s hoping something comes up last minute and he has to cancel. The lights are dim but she can clearly see Jungkook walk closer to the table with a small smile.

“I am so sorry for being late” “You smell of cigarettes” Yoongi comments the second Jungkook extends his hand for a handshake. He had to calm himself down before this, he didn’t account for the smell.

“Well yes-“ “Is he the reason you started smoking again? What purpose does it even serve” Yoongi starts off with the same lecture and Jungkook smiles timidly as he takes a seat beside ___.

“Can you not, I am an adult, I can smoke if I want to and so can he” ___ is much more proactive today but she loses her cool for a second when Jungkook drapes his arm behind her chair, the closeness feeling even more suffocating.

“I don’t love the habit-“ “You have asthma for fucks sake, it is so bad for you” Yoongi interrupts Jungkook once again and he just clears his throat, this is clearly not off to a good start.

“I’m fine, can we just drop it” ___ ignores the two men as she picks up her menu and the two men do the same. The server comes and takes their orders promptly and more than enough food is ordered while the two siblings quietly continue to sip on their wine.

“So, I herd that you’re going on tour soon, that must be exciting” Jungkook can’t take the silence anymore, this is a whole new stubborn ___ he’s seeing today and he can’t take it anymore.

“Yes, 18 shows, I’m in town to finalizes some final details” Yoongi shares as the appetizers are served. The food distracts them for a while as the two men make some more small talk about the upcoming tour.

“How serious is this,” Yoongi asks as he gestures between the two of them with a fork, “Has she staked claim over a dresser at your place” Yoongi asks so casually but the two of them understand just how nuanced the question is.

“Space in my closet yes” Jungkook answers as he takes a big sip, completely emptying the wine glass. Yoongi is clearly satisfied, given his cheeky smile.

“There isn’t any of your stuff at her place, or even her room” Yoongi insinuates and ___ takes a deep breath while Jungkook takes a big bite, she’s answering this one

“Why were you snooping in my room?” “I was looking for moisturizer” Yoongi answers promptly, still waiting for an explanation.

“You use more skincare than me, you have moisturizer in your bag right now and Jungkook doesn’t come over at my place often, to keep a low profile” ___ answers and Yoongi nods with understanding, from his point of view, all of this looks good so far.

The rest of the dinner stiff with a few laughs here and there. Jungkook is sweating under his jacket as he realises just how unprepared the two of them are, at least they are good liars.

“What are the weekend plans?” Yoongi asks after explaining how he’s leaving for Japan tonight. “What do you want to do?” Jungkook asks almost instinctively and the blush on her cheeks reappears, not knowing what to say.

“Nothing, you probably need lots of rest, you’ve had a busy couple weeks” ___ says softly with a familiarity knowing that what she’s saying is what she actually means and not pretending right now.

Yoongi observes as the couple faintly exchange a few words every now and then, shuffling closer and closer as more wine is poured. ___ has this calmness when she talks to him that he hasn’t seen before, maybe being with Jungkook isn’t all that bad.

“My time at boarding school the greatest, those four years felt like one long sleepover with my best friends” ___ shares with Jin and Nari as Jungkook looks at her with awe, every day he learns something new about her.

“Did you not miss your family, your support system?” Nari asks with genuine curiosity and ___ chews her food a bit quicker to answer enthusiastically.

“I did at the start, but I was so busy with classes, sports, extra curriculars, it forced me to find a support system there” ___ shares as she eats another big spoonful of soup, she’s glad that they didn’t chose anything fancy for food but rather stuck to Korean food.

“I think it’s helped me so far in life very well, I read people well, I can acclimate to new situations better” ___ shares and Jungkook sits quietly as he observes her eating so well, he wonders if this dinner is her first meal of the day.

“Our kid isn’t even born yet but I can’t even bare the thought of being away from my child” Jin finally speaks up and ___ smiles widely at the expecting couple, Nari is currently four months pregnant and they are already in the protective parent mode.

“Wonik and Haein used to be like that but they are seriously considering boarding school for Jia” ___ shares ever so casually like she isn’t talking about the other two most important people in the country after her mother.

“Jia isn’t exactly the most low-profile person in the country, and the attention she’s been getting is definitely affecting her” there’s concern in ___’s voice as she shares, Jungkook wonders if the attention has been affecting her too.

“Being away from the country may let her have somewhat normal experiences while she can” ___ voice is soft as she recalls having this exact conversation with Haein a few months ago.

“It makes sense, the attention has been affecting me, it’s bound to affect a child” Jungkook finally chimes in and ___ turns and looks at him with worry.

“It has been?” the warmth in her voice catches Jungkook off guard, him almost choking on his rice with she places her hand on his. ___ quickly recoils from the foreign touch, going back to her rice like business as usual.

“Nothing I can’t handle-“ “He’s been enjoying the attention actually, cheesing on edits of himself” Jin chimes in and Jungkook snares at his older brother while ___ chuckles.

“Right in the middle of a stand-up meeting, mind you” Jin adds as the couple across the table cracks up while Jungkook goes red with embarrassment.

“Those editors are quite talented, making an average person like me look like royalty” ___ joins in the joke, her timing and sarcasm making everyone on the table laugh.

Jin’s starting to get why his brother is so enamoured with her. She’s likable, funny, confident, there’s something magnetic about her. He sees the way Jungkook steals glances every five seconds, like he can’t believe she’s sitting beside him.

Conversation flows from work to vacations to their upcoming child to the latest celebrity gossip. Jungkook’s glad any difficult questions that required sticking to the script didn’t come up, he wasn’t sure how well he could lie to two people he loves so much.

___ sighs deeply the second they enter the elevator, the dinner seemed to go on forever and it just added to the long day she had. The sigh concerns Jungkook, in his eyes this did go well, better than it did with Yoongi anyway.

“Did I come off too prepared? I asked Taehyung to prepare potential small talk, did I come off like I was reading off a script” ___ asks candidly and Jungkook goes back to the dinner, realising why she was steering the conversation in her ways, of course she prepared to keep up appearances.

“No, you did just fine” Jungkook comment and ___ sighs, just fine is clearly not good enough, no matter how hard she practices. Jungkook still finds it a bit strange with they go from acting like a couple in love to strangers standing next to each other.

“I’m supposed to be picking you up from university on Tuesday night, right?” Jungkook asks opening his calendar as they walk to her car. The familiarly in his voice now replaced with straightforwardness. Namjoon’s already waiting with an open door and she slides in, ready to head home already.

“Yes” “Alright, Tuesday, 6 pm ma’am” Jungkook leaves with a curt bow, his formality and walls come up every time it’s just the two of them.

It’s early March and the cold isn’t as mind melting as it was a few weeks ago, but it’s still cold. ___ hurried out of her apartment this afternoon, knowing she was running late for her lecture, and in that rush, she forgot about a jacket. Her thin sweater is doing the best it can, but the minute she walks out the lecture hall, the chill hits her spine.

“You wanna come out with us, they have a college festival going on in NSU, we’re thinking drinks after?” Yeonjun asks pointing to the rest of the people who look just ready to get drunk.

“I wish I could but I have some duties early tomorrow and my boyfriend’s coming to pick me up” ___ talks as Yeonjun chuckles walking right beside her. Yeonjun may be the first friend she’s made in Seoul, he doesn’t care that she’s a princess and that’s why she likes him.

“And we’re getting dinner afterwards-“ “Maybe also a bike ride around the city, how dangerous your royal highness” Yeonjun says and ___ looks at her confused but the realization hits her when she looks the way Yeonjun is.

Jungkook’s standing against his parked bike, the lose jeans and leather jacket are starkly different to the suits she’s used to seeing him in. His hair sits flat on his forehead while he continues to smoke the cigarette. He looks so different than he usually does and ___ doesn’t know how to act.

“Your smoker boyfriend can join us, maybe smoke something better than a cigarette” Yeonjun jokes as they walk closer to them, ___ playfully punches him and that’s the second Jungkook zeroes in on them.

“That’s a very dangerous thing to say to a royal princess young man” ___ jokes as they walk even closer, Jungkook is quick to put out his cigarette as he sees the two walking closer to him, he recognizes the man and according to the tabloids, he’s a friend of hers.

“Introduce us, do you talk to him about your rascal friend who you steal joints from sometimes?” Yeonjun jokes again as they cross the street and ___ almost pushes him off the crossing. Jungkook looks at him with mystery, the more he sees her, the more he realises just how much he doesn’t know much about her.

“Hey” ___ switches onto girlfriend mode quickly and seizes the distance with a quick peck on his cheek, Jungkook is a bit frazzled for a few seconds, he still doesn’t get how she acts so seamlessly.

“Hey” Jungkook jumps up and stands straight, he still finds it difficult to touch her, he feels like he isn’t allowed to. But he also knows that there are camera men all around, hiding somewhere, Han told him.

“Jungkook, this is Yeonjun, he is a business major but he likes to sit in psychology class because he’s evil” ___ introduces her friend and Jungkook can sense this familiarity between the two, he feels a twinge of some feeling he isn’t too sure about.

“It’s not for evil purposes, understanding psychology is key to any business” Yeonjun explains as the two men shake their hands. ___ looks at Jungkook, he’s particularly stiff today, she wonders if things are tough at the office.

“___ tells me that you guys have plans tonight but you should come to the party I’m throwing in Jeju, it’s my birthday and I sold my first company so I’m fat with money right now” Yeonjun talks confidently and ___ chuckles awkwardly as she kicks her friend.

“It’s happening next Saturday, you have to come, I need to pick your brain about that supremely successful business of yours” Yeonjun talks again and Jungkook is hyperaware that all he’s spoken so far is a soft, ‘hi’.

“I’ll have to check my calendar but I’ll try my best” Jungkook answers dryly as ___ rubs her hands together, if Yeonjun wasn’t such a social butterfly he would have caught up on this awkwardness.

“Well, I’ll leave the two of you to your fairytale, royal highness” Yeonjun bows and turns around to the people waiting for him, Jungkook removes his jacket and slips it on ___, she shivered twice and he noticed.

“Thank you” ___ talks and it doesn’t sound so scripted, like she actually meant it. She remembers this jacket, it’s the one Yoongi gave to him.

Jungkook mumbled at a red light asking if she was hungry and ___ mumbled a no as she gingerly kept her hands around him. She’s scared and it’s very clear to him, he should have just driven his car.

The drive outside the city is starting to relax as the air starts to get thinner, the traffic more sparce and Jungkook easing up on the accelerator. Her fingers tightly grip onto his t-shirt, every now and then her hands graze his torso, making him lose his train of thought every time.

“There’s a place around the outskirts, they got the best ox tail soup” Jungkook shares as they stop at another red light, to his left he can see the passenger in the car clicking their pictures, this has happened a few times today.

“We can eat something local if you’re scared” Jungkook asks as he cracks his knuckles and ___ mumbles a small ‘it’s fine’ that’s interrupted by him reaching for her hands and placing them firmly around his torso. She’s taken aback by this movement, but at least her hands aren’t cold and safely under his t-shirt.

The sky is lit with orange hues of sunset as Jungkook kicks the stand and they finally stop. Sure ___ was scared at first, but midway she started focusing on the scenery around her and her hands weren’t cold anymore, she started enjoying it.

It’s Jungkook’s hands that are cold as she reaches over for help, the road outside is gravelled and she wore heels assuming they’d go to some regular restaurant.

“Namjoon, there’s a hoodie in the truck, can you bring that?” ___ turn around to ask Namjoon who nods as they’re seated in an old-style restaurant. A few eyes linger on them but thankfully they’re able to find a table in the back.

“It smells amazing” ___ comments as an older lady comes by to take their order. She is definitely starstruck given how much she’s fidgeting.

“Ox tail soup is my favourite, how long have you guys been running this restaurant?” ___ asks in an attempt to comfort her as Jungkook fills their cups with warm water.

 “My grandfather started it back in 1945, to make warm meals for truckers, now we have a lot of visitors from the city, wanting a respite” she answers with a warm smile.

“We only serve one thing, helps keep our costs low, so I will make sure that your soups are extra delicious” she jokes and ___ chuckles with charm, Jungkook watched how quickly ___ made a pretty nervous woman feel comfortable around her, she truly does some magic on people.

There’s quietness on the table as they eat, ___ spent years in boarding school where she picked up the habit of not talking while they eat and Jungkook doesn’t know what they could even talk about.

“You don’t have to come to the party, I’m sure you have a ton of work” ___ finally speaks up as they get a refill on their rice. The soup is actually fixing the migraine Jungkook’s had for a while now, but the mention of the party tenses him right back.

“Do you not want me there?” Jungkook’s tone isn’t accusatory and he’s trying very hard to mask it. ___ coughs as she chokes on the soup and Jungkook quickly refills her water and hands her a tissue.

“It’s not that, um” she stops to take a big gulp of her water, his eyes fixed on her all this while, “I don’t want to impose” “You aren’t, wouldn’t it be natural for your pretend boyfriend to be at a party with you” Jungkook speaks as he goes back to focusing on his soup and ___ is stumped about how to deal with this.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to come, I don’t want to force you to spend time with me when you don’t have to” ___ shares and the blank look on his face doesn’t give her any answers, he just goes back to eating.

“Ma’am the hoodie” Namjoon hands her a grey hoodie as they’re walking out the restaurant. She passes it onto Jungkook who puts it on right away, it takes a minute for it to click but ___’s starting to remember where the hoodie is from.

“Oh no, you can’t wear that” ___ stops him with a firm hand on his chest, he looks at her confused, waiting for her to explain herself.

“It’s one of my ex boyfriends, give me that, I’ll wear that and you wear your-“ “You wearing your ex boyfriends hoodie on a date with your current boyfriend is so much worse” Jungkook abruptly pulls the jacket around her, wanting to keep it put and pulling her closer in the process.

“Namjoon is there any other jacket there?” “No ma’am” ___ sighs as she breaks away from his grip, hopefully they don’t encounter any paparazzi who connect the dots.

“Which on does this belong to? Aiden, Hunter? Peter, is it William or Jaco-“ “It’s none of them” ___ huffs as she walks away and in a rare moment of honesty, Jungkook chuckles following her.

“You have dated a lot of rich, white men, a very specific type isn’t it” Jungkook continues the teasing as ___ leans against the bike, she had hoped that Jungkook wouldn’t come across those articles about her dating life, but be obviously has.

“Do you have a smoke?” “Ma’am there are paparazzi across the street, I’d advise against smoking” Namjoon interjects, but ___ still looks at Jungkook expectantly who just points to his jacket.

“Of course they are here, everywhere I breath they’re there, I can’t go to the doctor without being ambushed by them” ___ whines as she lights a cigarette, Jungkook turns around to access the situation, there are approximately 5 cameramen.

“Last week they caught me without makeup and now I have plastic surgery recommendations from netizens, I get a pimple sometimes, am I not a human” Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches her, really watches her. People scrutinize him, sure, but they don’t pick apart every inch of his body, every breath he takes, every tiny imperfection they can find. He isn’t expected to be flawless. She is.

“Do you ever wish that you weren’t born into the circumstances that you were?” Jungkook’s question is nuanced, he’s though about this a thousand times thought his life. To his surprise she smiles as she passes him the cigarette.

“I wish I wasn’t born sometimes” ___ answers as she pulls the jacket tighter, “My first memory is of my grandfather telling me that I belong to the people, even before I belong to myself” ____ shares and Jungkook is stumped by all this, he expected a joke, snarky comment, even some truth, but he didn’t expect this kind of vulnerability.

“He told me, my name, my face, my choices, none of them belong to me. Every breath I take is for my service to the people” ___ continues talking and Jungkook takes a long drag.

There’s a long silence as they continue to share the cigarette, but it isn’t odd or uncomfortable. For the first time today Jungkook feels comfortable with her, probably because of how vulnerable she has been.

“People are comforted by your presence, I saw how you were with the lady in there” Jungkook talks as he puts out the cigarette. “If someone else were born as the princess, the people would have missed out on you”

Jungkook’s compliment sits heavy with her, that’s all she can think about on her way back. The bike ride stretches on, the city lights flickering in the distance, but her thoughts keep drifting back to his words. He spoken so easily, without pretence, without needing anything in return.

Monday mornings are very important to Jungkook, he uses the day to set the right tone for the week. All his meetings are usually scheduled for Mondays, he wakes up extra early to get a long workout in. But today instead of driving directly to the office, he has an unexpected pit stop.

The apartment is completely dark, Taehyung stumbles upon some heels the moment he walks into the living room. There is half eaten food on the dining table and a spilled water right by her room.

“What happened here?” Taehyung asks as he picks up the now spilled bottle of water, “She came back from Jeju this early this morning and has been in her room ever since” Namjoon answers walking into the kitchen and plops a rag on the water before someone slips on it.

“Oh, that party, god the pictures have caused so much frenzy, she makes my life so difficult” Taehyung grumbles as he knocks again.

“She’s allowed to let lose sometimes, and it was just drinking and some smoking, my security team made sure that there weren’t any drugs there” Namjoon defends ___ as he knocks too. The doorbell rings and Namjoon immediately walks away to open the door.

“Your royal highness” “Go away, I’m dead” ___ grumbles as she turns around in the bed, her head feels heavy, she feels weak, she’s thrown up twice since she got home but she’s still nauseous.

“Ma’am we’re here for the meeting, you asked for us to be here” Taehyung talks through the door. Jungkook walks into the apartment, he’s never been here and he too almost stumbles on some luggage.

“Taehyung I’m dying, you should be out there applying for new jobs” ___ yells but it’s pretty muffled as she wraps her entire body in the warm duvet. She’s cold but also hot, her brain doesn’t work anymore.

“If you’re sick you need to let us in-“ “The door isn’t locked” ___ cries out and Namjoon comes and opens the door for them. The inside isn’t much better, all the lights are on, the door to the bathroom is open, the tap is running for some reason, and there’s a lit cigarette on an ash tray and an half empty bottle of vodka on the side table.

“What happened?” Taehyung asks as he gingerly walks closer to the bed to put out the cigarette before it starts a fire. Jungkook watches all this as he rests against the doorframe, this is a lot for Monday morning.

“Can you save the stupid question for later, given I don’t die” ___ speaks as pulls the duvet down. Taehyung sighs as he crouches down to her level.

“Mr Kook and I are here for the meeting” Taehyung speaks softly and she grumbles as she tries to stand up and failing twice, she may still be drunk.

“It’s fine, we can do the meeting tomorrow if she’s hungover” Jungkook’s voice is hurting her head but she peeps and realises there are three men in her room and she doesn’t remember if she put on her pyjama pants.

“I am so sorry for disrupting your mornings, but this will be a nice memory to remember me by when I’m dead” Jungkook can’t help but chuckle as he watches ___ struggle with turning around, she just gives up and lies back down.

“Okay, this works out because I have people from the press waiting in my office” Taehyung practically runs out the room and Namjoon picks up the duvet and covers her feet properly.

“How bad is it, the sophomore year Halloween party or the freshman year Halloween party?” Namjoon’s voice booms from the foot of the bed and ___ is starting to get nauseous again.

“This is the new worst, Namjoon what if I die, of too much vodka” ___ cries out and Jungkook chuckles again and she glares at him, she’s too hungover to care about how bad this looks.

Namjoon is amused as Jungkook rummages through the kitchen, he opens a few drawers and sighs out loud at the empty fridge.

“I’m sure she’ll apologies about this late cancellation tomorrow-“ “Namjoon can you have someone do a grocery run, and stop at a pharmacy?” Jungkook asks looking around for something to write the list of stuff on.

“You’re staying, I’m sure you’re needed back at the office” Namjoon retorts picking up a notepad and pen from the study and handing it. Jungkook quickly jots a few things down and hands the list to Namjoon.

“It’s fine, she has duties this afternoon, doesn’t she?” “Yes, she’s and the rest of the royal family are hosting a lunch for the US president at 1” Namjoon answers and Jungkook nods removing his jacket and rolling his sleeves.

“So, we have five hours for her to be not hungover and drunk-“ “She’s drunk?” “There was a half empty bottle of vodka by her bed, she’s definitely still drunk” Jungkook answers and picks up his buzzing phone.

“Yes, Han my text read right, I’ll come to the office by lunch” Jungkook speaks as he leans against the kitchen counter. “I understand that the dev team came into the office especially for a meeting, just tell them my girlfriend is sick, it’ll remind them to have a life outside of work”

Namjoon and a few other members soon bring in all the things that Jungkook asked for. He’s had a few wild nights himself and the formula is simple, something for hydration, something for the upset stomach and something to throw up.

Jungkook’s back in her room and she is clearly asleep evidenced by the soft snores. He makes his way to the bed and places the green smoothie by the bed stand.

“Ma’am, it’s almost 11, you need to get up” Jungkook speaks softly as he removes the duvet from her face, most of it still hidden with her tousled hair. She doesn’t wake up right away, but murmurs something as she turns away.

“___” Jungkook speaks again as he takes a seat on the bed, this is foreign territory to him, being in her home, in her room, sitting on her bed. He could have easily just left for office, but he didn’t.

“Taehyung why are you here, start planning my funeral” ___ mumbles and Jungkook laughs, she jerks up when she recognises the laugh.

“Why, why, um why are you here?” her voice is coarse and the world is spinning, she blinks rapidly not knowing is she’s dreaming this.

“Because you called you yesterday and asked me to help you” Jungkook voice is low and calm, breaking through the fog of confusion she’s clearly in.

“I did,” “Yes, now drink this, crucial first step” Jungkook says as he picks up the big glass full of green smoothie while ___ tries to get her hair out of her face.

“Do I have to?” ___ asks as she painfully holds her head, she would be embarrassed about Jungkook seeing her in this condition but the hangover is using up all her brain cells right now.

“Yes, drink up” Jungkook holds up the glass in front of her and she complies. She sips it slowly, the taste not as bad as she expected, though it's still hard to ignore the strong taste of vegetables that makes her stomach churn slightly.

“This will fix this?” she asks handing Jungkook back the empty glass, “No this will make you throw up” Jungkook answers as he stands up and ___ scowls, the liquids already churning in her stomach.

“WHY?” “Because I have a fool proof plan, I’ll leave the door closed but don’t you dare go back to sleep”

___ puts up her hair in a towel and fastens her bath gown before she steps out the room. She doesn’t feel all better now but it’s still so bad. She tightens the belt of her bathrobe again, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious as she steps into the open space. Jungkook is leaning against the counter, sleeves still rolled up, scrolling through his phone like he belongs here. Like it’s normal.

“That helped, didn’t it?” Jungkook asks coming over with another glass of something, she’s more hesitant taking this glass this time because she possibly can’t throw up any more.

“Will this make me throw up?” “No, it’s coconut water, sip on it slowly and eat this” Jungkook instructs as she takes a seat on the dining table, she doesn’t have any energy to keep standing.

“Dry toast? Greasy food helps with hangovers?” ___ asks as Jungkook takes the seat beside her, “That’ll upset your stomach”

She sips on the coconut water, the cool liquid soothing her throat. “You didn’t have to do all this,” she says, her voice quieter now.

Jungkook sits back his arms crossed, “You called,” he repeats, as if that alone explains everything.

She doesn’t remember much from last night, but she remembers that—reaching for her phone, his name the first one she thought of. She wonders what exactly she said, what kind of mess she dragged him into, but she doesn’t have the courage to ask.

___ puts up her hair in a towel and fastens her bath gown before she steps out the room. She doesn’t feel all better now but it’s still so bad. She tightens the belt of her bathrobe again, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious as she steps into the open space. Jungkook is leaning against the counter, sleeves still rolled up, scrolling through his phone like he belongs here. Like it’s normal.

“That helped, didn’t it?” Jungkook asks coming over with another glass of something, she’s more hesitant taking this glass this time because she possibly can’t throw up any more.

“Will this make me throw up?” “No, it’s coconut water, sip on it slowly and eat this” Jungkook instructs as she takes a seat on the dining table, she doesn’t have any energy to keep standing.

“Dry toast? Greasy food helps with hangovers?” ___ asks as Jungkook takes the seat beside her, “That’ll upset your stomach”

She sips on the coconut water, the cool liquid soothing her throat. “You didn’t have to do all this,” she says, her voice quieter now.

Jungkook sits back his arms crossed, “You called,” he repeats, as if that alone explains everything.

She doesn’t remember much from last night, but she remembers that—reaching for her phone, his name the first one she thought of. She wonders what exactly she said, what kind of mess she dragged him into, but she doesn’t have the courage to ask.

The makeup and hair team keep her busy as she dozes off in the chair, Jungkook periodically picks up some work calls while he’s busy moving around in her kitchen. Jungkook doesn’t cook very often, most of his meals are delivered to the office but he can still make some porridge.

“Thank you for all this” ___ is back to her graceful self as she takes a seat back on the dining table in her matching tweed set. Jungkook looks at her, now perfectly put together, as if the dishevelled, hungover mess from earlier never existed. It’s almost comical how seamlessly she’s slipped back into her role as the royal princess.

“Even tho you didn’t have to” ___ talks as she plays around with the porridge, she isn’t too sure if she trusts her stomach yet. But she still gingerly takes a small bite and it instantly helps her.

“Feeling better? Because you definitely look better” Jungkook speaks as he continues to clean up around the apartment.

“I definitely don’t feel like death anymore” ___ speaks as she takes another bite, she hadn’t realised how hungry she was till she started eating. To her surprise, Jungkook comes over with a bowl of food for himself and starts eating. All this is way to domestic and she’s not used to it.

“Ma’am the car is ready for you, also the coffee you ordered” Namjoon speaks placing the coffee by Jungkook. He may know how to cook, but he doesn’t know how to operate her complicated coffee machine.

“This one’s for you,” Jungkook places a cup in front of her and she’s the happiest seeing coffee, “Namjoon told me that you prefer iced coffee but a hot latte will help right now” Jungkook explains as he picks up his as well as her utensils.

They step into the elevator, their coffees in each their hand and to an onlooker they may look like any regular couple on their way to work. The quiet hum of the elevator fills the space between them, the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. She takes a careful sip of the latte, the warmth spreading through her, easing the last remnants of this hangover.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, your office?” ___ asks as they step out their building, “Yes, and no drinking for the next 48 hours” Jungkook jokes as he fishes out his car keys from his jacket. They’re both back on their own way, but ___ wonders what caused her to call him at 4 am, why did he even pick up. Jungkook had no obligation to be there. He had no reason to put his entire morning on hold just to make sure she was okay. And yet, he did.

The panic ___ feels is getting worse and worse as she walks through the palace. The old doors creak as she forces them open but she finally spots her mother sitting in one of the many reading rooms.

“You’re out of breath” her father comments but doesn’t look up and ___ catches her breath and takes a seat across them. The queen knew ___ would come to see them, just wasn’t aware that she would be so panicked.

“So, it’s Jungkook’s parent’s 25th anniversary soon and I’m invited, but attending a party full of people would be fine, at most I’d just have to impress then for ten minutes top. But his mother called and insisted that I join them a day early, just with the family and I think I’m having a panic attack” ___ huffs and takes a deep breath as one of the servants comes and hands her a glass of water.

“That’s wonderful, isn’t it?” the queen asks as she removes her reading glasses and closes her book.

“No, it’s terrifying,” ___ responds quickly, wrapping both hands around the cold glass. “What if I say something wrong? What if I mess up some tradition I don’t know about? What if they don’t like me?”

Her father finally looks up from his newspaper, arching a single brow. “You do realize you’re a princess, don’t you? People are literally trained to like you.”

___ groans, sinking deeper into the chair. “It’s different. This isn’t just public appearances or charming a crowd for ten minutes. This is his family. They’ll see right through me.”

Her mother watches her carefully, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “You like him.”

___’s head snaps up. “What?” “You like him,” the queen repeats, tilting her head slightly. “If this were just another obligation, you wouldn’t be panicking like this.”

“I—No, that’s not—” ___ stumbles over her words before shutting her mouth entirely. She looks away, staring at the heavy curtains instead, but the warmth creeping up her neck betrays her.

Her mother hums knowingly. “You’ll be fine. You were raised to handle situations far worse than a family dinner. Just be yourself.”

Her father who’s still reading his newspaper replies “And don’t be weird about it.” ___ groans again, sitting back. “Great advice, thanks.”

“It’s great that things are going well with the two of you” the queen talks as she continues taking small sips of her tea. “Yeah great, so great, fantastic” ___’s voice is still panicked as she finishes off the glass of water and reaches for a cookie.

“It’s too bad that things with Wonik and Haein are so turbulent right now” the queen shares and ___ stops chewing the cookie.

“They are?” “I don’t know the details but there have been one too many loud arguments. Jia was crying about her parents fighting to the school counsellor.” The queen is worried as she puts her tea cup down. It’s more than just her son and daughter in law fighting, it’s the future king and queen having marriage trouble.

“I am sure they will figure it out, they have to” her father chimes in and ___ sighs sitting up straight.

“What if they don’t?” ___ asks with genuine curiosity, when they got married ten years ago Wonik wasn’t the king in waiting, they couldn’t have possibly thought how differently things would be.

“It’s a royal marriage in a country with low marriage rates, the future king can’t be a divorced” her father chimes in as he finally closes his newspaper, “So, they have to work to have a functioning marriage, even if it resembles an arrangement” the last bit seems to be directed solely at ___, the last word weighing heavy on her.

Jungkook is deep in sleep around 4 in the morning, his alarm doesn’t go off for another two hours but his phone is already buzzing against his cheek. He barely opens his eyes, but they jolt open the second he reads the name of the caller.

“Fucking finally, I’ve called you like a hundred times already” ___’s voice booms from the other side and Jungkook groans putting the call on speaker as he lies back down.

“For the record, I wanted you there, in Jeju with me but I didn’t want to force you to spend time with me, it is very clear to me that this is all an arrangement” ___ slurs on her words but it’s the hurt in her words that Jungkook’s more focused on.

“I am sorry that because of my lapse of judgement has caused you a suffering life time with me” she says, her words carrying more weight than he’s prepared for. Jungkook’s chest tightens, and his stomach twists in response to the vulnerability she’s exposing, but all he can do is listen. There’s nothing else he can say right now, not with the hurt so evident in her voice.

“But for once can I be selfish, can you take care of me tomorrow, pretend like you actually care because the way I’ve been drinking,” she stops talking and Jungkook can hear her taking a long sip of her drink.

“Because I’m going to get real depressed tomorrow, having to take care of myself in that lonely apartment that feels like a hotel, I can’t cry myself to sleep one more night, I want a day of rest from this loneliness that eats me alive” ___ rambles and Jungkook takes a long sharp breath, his heart sinks as her words hit him with a weight he wasn’t ready for. The rawness in her voice, the way she’s spilling her emotions, it catches him off guard. He had always known she carried a lot, but hearing it laid out like this—it’s impossible to ignore.

“Okay, I’ll be there, I promise you won’t have to do tomorrow by yourself”

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