xuchiya

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairytale" || choi san || series || fourteenth part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

back to masterlist | chapter 15

ohh .. angst in this chapter.

The chaos around you was deafening, the relentless chase of the Murks spreading an unnatural frost across the battlefield. Their cold presence seemed to steal the breath from your lungs, leaving behind a suffocating dread. You clutched your side, blood staining your trembling fingers, every ragged breath dragging fire through your chest. The blow to your head throbbed with every heartbeat, and the icy numbness spreading across your right side left you staggering, your movements sluggish and disoriented. Yet, even as your vision blurred, your heart refused to give in.  

“Fuck…” you groaned, the word breaking from you in a voice that sounded foreign, hoarse with exhaustion and pain.  Within you, there is this anger— one is because the gift is not working up until now. It flickers like a candle.

And second, just moments ago, you and Jongho had stood together, your hands twitching in anticipation as the weight of your roles settled heavily on your shoulders. Descendants of Brigid and Jeoyoung—a lineage carrying both power and heartbreak, a duty none could escape. For a brief instant, there had been an unspoken understanding, a silent resolve between you both.  But that fragile moment shattered as the Murks descended, their darkness spreading like a living plague, and San’s roar pierced the air—a sound so primal it tore through you, shaking the ground beneath your feet.  

You now watched helplessly as Jongho stood in the distance, his broad shoulders tense, his hands gripping San’s massive snout with all his strength. The dragon, no longer your San but a creature twisted by the curse, thrashed violently, his glowing, molten eyes wild with a pain that seemed to consume him. His scales rippled like molten metal in the firelight, claws tearing deep gashes into the earth as he struggled to unleash the inferno building within him.  

“Jongho!” you tried to call out, but your voice was a broken whisper, drowned by the howling wind and San’s anguished roars.  

Jongho turned slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face—a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Tears glistened in his eyes, though they didn’t fall. His gaze was resolute, his jaw set as he forced San’s maw closed, locking eyes with the creature he once called a brother.  

“It’s not the curse,” Jongho muttered, his voice low, almost reverent. You could see his lips move, even if you couldn’t hear him clearly. “It’s her pain—Brigid’s pain.”  

The realization seemed to freeze time. Brigid’s agony, her sorrow, and her fury—an inheritance San now bore, a torment he couldn’t escape. You could feel it too, deep in your chest, the crushing weight of a heartbreak centuries old. Jongho, ever the strategist, had already understood what was happening before you even began to grasp it.  

San wasn’t destroying because of the curse. He was destroying because of the unbearable pain, the misery Brigid endured and passed down through blood and flame.  

“San-hyung!” Jongho called, his voice stronger this time, carrying across the battlefield like a promise. “You don’t have to burn everything down! You’re not her rage—you have to fight through it!”  

San roared in response, the sound rumbling like thunder as he fought against Jongho’s grip.  

“Jongho!” you screamed, forcing your battered body to move, stumbling forward even as your legs threatened to collapse beneath you. Jongho didn’t look back this time, his focus entirely on San. The entire flashback gave few things that he only saw— Jeoyoung wasn’t just a king nor a true king of the entire kingdom. He was amongst the scavenger people, one of those people who summoned the Goddess of fire and tricked her into using the pseudodragons for a better way of traveling around but the truth is, people have grown to become greedy. And he learned that from them not everything is earned through hardwork but through life being slathered.

Jeoyoung rescued the pseudodragons and took them back to Brigid and that is where the love began. Although not everything has a happy ending, even it means Jeoyoung having to sacrifice his life to save the dragon's life and his lover.

Jongho leaned closer, his voice steady, his words filled with a quiet kind of grief. “I understand… what needs to be done.”  

You froze in place, a sick sense of foreboding settling deep in your gut. “Don’t do this! W-We don’t know if we … Please don’t!” you begged, your voice breaking.  

Jongho turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There was something heartbreaking in his expression—a softness that belied the storm around you. His lips curled into a faint smile, bittersweet and knowing.  

“See ya’, bookie,” he said softly, the nickname a knife to your chest, carving out a wound that would never heal. Before you could stop him, Jongho released San’s snout and stepped directly into the dragon’s line of fire.  

The air seemed to hold its breath.  

San reared back, his chest expanding as flames began to pool in his throat, the glow of them lighting the battlefield like a second sun. His body trembled with the effort, the pain and fury threatening to tear him apart from within.  And then the fire erupted—a torrent of blinding, searing light, hotter than anything you’d ever experienced. The heat scorched the air, making it impossible to breathe.  

But Jongho didn’t flinch.  

He stepped forward, his arms outstretched, and caught the fire with his bare hands. You screamed, the sound raw and guttural, but it was drowned by the roar of the flames.  

Jongho’s body lit up like a star, the golden light of the fire consuming him as he absorbed its fury. His muscles trembled under the strain, the cracks of glowing energy spreading across his skin like fractures in glass. Every second felt like an eternity as he stood there, holding the fire back with nothing but his will.  

“This isn’t your pain to bear, San-hyung,” Jongho said, his voice steady despite the agony etched into his every movement. “It’s hers. And I’ll take it.”  The fire began to coil around him, twisting and folding inward as if it recognized him. The golden light intensified, blinding in its brilliance, and you could feel the weight of his sacrifice pressing down on your chest, suffocating you.  

“Jongho!” you screamed again, stumbling forward, only for the ground to splinter beneath you, creating a chasm that forced you back.  

He turned to you one last time, his face serene despite the chaos. His eyes held everything—his love for you, his regrets, his unshakable resolve. “The fire within… must protect, not destroy.”  

With a final, defiant roar, Jongho pressed the fire to his chest. The flames erupted into an explosion of golden light, consuming him entirely.  

And then, silence.  

San collapsed to the ground, his massive form trembling, his glowing eyes dimmed. The Murks retreated, their shadows dissipating as if the light had driven them away.  

But Jongho…  

You fell to your knees, sobbing as you stared at the spot where he had stood. The golden glow lingered in the air, like embers drifting on the wind, but there was no trace of him.  

“No…” you whispered, the word breaking apart as it left your lips. The dragon tamer had fulfilled his role. A role that saved the entire kingdom, save the entire line of San and the other princes.  

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie . @ffenjoyerdazme

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairytale" || choi san || series || fourteenth part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

back to masterlist | chapter 15

ohh .. angst in this chapter.

The chaos around you was deafening, the relentless chase of the Murks spreading an unnatural frost across the battlefield. Their cold presence seemed to steal the breath from your lungs, leaving behind a suffocating dread. You clutched your side, blood staining your trembling fingers, every ragged breath dragging fire through your chest. The blow to your head throbbed with every heartbeat, and the icy numbness spreading across your right side left you staggering, your movements sluggish and disoriented. Yet, even as your vision blurred, your heart refused to give in.  

“Fuck…” you groaned, the word breaking from you in a voice that sounded foreign, hoarse with exhaustion and pain.  Within you, there is this anger— one is because the gift is not working up until now. It flickers like a candle.

And second, just moments ago, you and Jongho had stood together, your hands twitching in anticipation as the weight of your roles settled heavily on your shoulders. Descendants of Brigid and Jeoyoung—a lineage carrying both power and heartbreak, a duty none could escape. For a brief instant, there had been an unspoken understanding, a silent resolve between you both.  But that fragile moment shattered as the Murks descended, their darkness spreading like a living plague, and San’s roar pierced the air—a sound so primal it tore through you, shaking the ground beneath your feet.  

You now watched helplessly as Jongho stood in the distance, his broad shoulders tense, his hands gripping San’s massive snout with all his strength. The dragon, no longer your San but a creature twisted by the curse, thrashed violently, his glowing, molten eyes wild with a pain that seemed to consume him. His scales rippled like molten metal in the firelight, claws tearing deep gashes into the earth as he struggled to unleash the inferno building within him.  

“Jongho!” you tried to call out, but your voice was a broken whisper, drowned by the howling wind and San’s anguished roars.  

Jongho turned slightly, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his face—a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Tears glistened in his eyes, though they didn’t fall. His gaze was resolute, his jaw set as he forced San’s maw closed, locking eyes with the creature he once called a brother.  

“It’s not the curse,” Jongho muttered, his voice low, almost reverent. You could see his lips move, even if you couldn’t hear him clearly. “It’s her pain—Brigid’s pain.”  

The realization seemed to freeze time. Brigid’s agony, her sorrow, and her fury—an inheritance San now bore, a torment he couldn’t escape. You could feel it too, deep in your chest, the crushing weight of a heartbreak centuries old. Jongho, ever the strategist, had already understood what was happening before you even began to grasp it.  

San wasn’t destroying because of the curse. He was destroying because of the unbearable pain, the misery Brigid endured and passed down through blood and flame.  

“San-hyung!” Jongho called, his voice stronger this time, carrying across the battlefield like a promise. “You don’t have to burn everything down! You’re not her rage—you have to fight through it!”  

San roared in response, the sound rumbling like thunder as he fought against Jongho’s grip.  

“Jongho!” you screamed, forcing your battered body to move, stumbling forward even as your legs threatened to collapse beneath you. Jongho didn’t look back this time, his focus entirely on San. The entire flashback gave few things that he only saw— Jeoyoung wasn’t just a king nor a true king of the entire kingdom. He was amongst the scavenger people, one of those people who summoned the Goddess of fire and tricked her into using the pseudodragons for a better way of traveling around but the truth is, people have grown to become greedy. And he learned that from them not everything is earned through hardwork but through life being slathered.

Jeoyoung rescued the pseudodragons and took them back to Brigid and that is where the love began. Although not everything has a happy ending, even it means Jeoyoung having to sacrifice his life to save the dragon's life and his lover.

Jongho leaned closer, his voice steady, his words filled with a quiet kind of grief. “I understand… what needs to be done.”  

You froze in place, a sick sense of foreboding settling deep in your gut. “Don’t do this! W-We don’t know if we … Please don’t!” you begged, your voice breaking.  

Jongho turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There was something heartbreaking in his expression—a softness that belied the storm around you. His lips curled into a faint smile, bittersweet and knowing.  

“See ya’, bookie,” he said softly, the nickname a knife to your chest, carving out a wound that would never heal. Before you could stop him, Jongho released San’s snout and stepped directly into the dragon’s line of fire.  

The air seemed to hold its breath.  

San reared back, his chest expanding as flames began to pool in his throat, the glow of them lighting the battlefield like a second sun. His body trembled with the effort, the pain and fury threatening to tear him apart from within.  And then the fire erupted—a torrent of blinding, searing light, hotter than anything you’d ever experienced. The heat scorched the air, making it impossible to breathe.  

But Jongho didn’t flinch.  

He stepped forward, his arms outstretched, and caught the fire with his bare hands. You screamed, the sound raw and guttural, but it was drowned by the roar of the flames.  

Jongho’s body lit up like a star, the golden light of the fire consuming him as he absorbed its fury. His muscles trembled under the strain, the cracks of glowing energy spreading across his skin like fractures in glass. Every second felt like an eternity as he stood there, holding the fire back with nothing but his will.  

“This isn’t your pain to bear, San-hyung,” Jongho said, his voice steady despite the agony etched into his every movement. “It’s hers. And I’ll take it.”  The fire began to coil around him, twisting and folding inward as if it recognized him. The golden light intensified, blinding in its brilliance, and you could feel the weight of his sacrifice pressing down on your chest, suffocating you.  

“Jongho!” you screamed again, stumbling forward, only for the ground to splinter beneath you, creating a chasm that forced you back.  

He turned to you one last time, his face serene despite the chaos. His eyes held everything—his love for you, his regrets, his unshakable resolve. “The fire within… must protect, not destroy.”  

With a final, defiant roar, Jongho pressed the fire to his chest. The flames erupted into an explosion of golden light, consuming him entirely.  

And then, silence.  

San collapsed to the ground, his massive form trembling, his glowing eyes dimmed. The Murks retreated, their shadows dissipating as if the light had driven them away.  

But Jongho…  

You fell to your knees, sobbing as you stared at the spot where he had stood. The golden glow lingered in the air, like embers drifting on the wind, but there was no trace of him.  

“No…” you whispered, the word breaking apart as it left your lips. The dragon tamer had fulfilled his role. A role that saved the entire kingdom, save the entire line of San and the other princes.  

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie . @ffenjoyerdazme

[xuchiya]

i'm such a cute lovable woman. anyone being mean to me will break all their bones on 20th march 2025 at 5:30pm

[xuchiya]

you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog

[xuchiya]

"accidentally have 8 pets" || ot8 ateez [a mini-series]

| genre: fluff. slice of life. small tinge of angst. kind of supernatural(?) | mentions: doctors. vets. needles. adoption. kidnapped. missing people | author's note: THIS IS MY SECOND MINI-SERIES! WHOO! I was inspired because I have met few pets in my life, and I thought through of "do they reincarnate?". Maybe this story does have reincarnation, but you'll know.

Life is indeed full of surprises whether they are good news or bad news, you just have to be prepared for it. Life has a funny way of surprising us when we least expect it. One day, I was living my usual routine, and the next, I found myself surrounded by eight adorable, unexpected companions. At first, their arrival was a mystery, a puzzle I couldn't quite piece together. Yet, amidst the confusion, I felt a strange sense of calm, as if they were meant to be part of my life all along.

COMING THIS DECEMBER 9!!!

[xuchiya]

"Everyday" || jung wooyoung || a mini-series

genre: non!idol wooyoung. advisor-unvercover! reader. fluff. a lil bit of humor(?) angst. violence mentions: guns. knives. blood. a lil bit gore. anxiety attack note: when i finished "my biker bodyguard", wooyoung came in my mind.

Lies after lies and secrets after secrets. After all, I have to protect you everyday.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

upcoming chapters

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairytale" || masterlist ||

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. death. killing. | as much as I enjoy writing this, it is on slow update since I started the very first chapter 2 months ago and the chapter 2 of this one is actually revised unlike "Everyday" which is still on process. And I want to give my lvoes something to read while I'm gone. This is slow update and the chapters are on queue so expect the chapters to be upload during WEDNESDAY & FRIDAY's

Chapter 1: Fairy tale

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

[last chapter] Chapter 16

Epilogue

[xuchiya]

"everyday" || jung wooyoung || mini-series

|genre: non!idol wooyoung. advisor-unvercover! reader. fluff. a lil bit of humor(?) angst. violence |mentions: guns. knives. blood. a lil bit gore. anxiety attack

"Jung Wooyoung!"

Queen Jung’s voice reverberated through the palace corridors like a warning bell. Her son, Crown Prince Wooyoung, grinned mischievously, as he concealed the water gun behind him. His younger brother's cries for mercy still echoed faintly, but Wooyoung’s focus remained on his escape.

Footsteps clicked sharply on the polished floors, drawing closer. The queen, draped in her royal gown, moved with the commanding grace of a monarch, yet her brow was furrowed in a mix of frustration and maternal exasperation. The trailing skirts of her deep sapphire dress whispered against the floor as she came to a stop before her son. Her gaze, sharp and knowing, softened ever so slightly, but her voice remained firm.

“He keeps picking on me.” Kyungmin cried, pointing at his older brother Wooyoung. Queen Jung sighs beckoning Kyungmin to come at him, her fingers wiping some strands of wet hair away from his face before she calls over his personal maid, “Please assist him to his room and change.”

The maid bowed, “Of course, my Queen.” Queen Jung leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his head before they were ushered to the opposite direction. When their figure disappeared around the corner, her gaze set back to his other son.

“Hand it over, Wooyoung,” she said, extending her hand, palm open.

Wooyoung, still feigning innocence, gave her his most charming smile.“I don’t want to~” he replied, his voice sweet as honey,  a giggle escaping when he saw the familiar look of resignation cross his mother’s face. But before he could even attempt an escape, a shadow loomed behind him.

Before Wooyoung could dart away, a tall figure stepped behind him and swiftly snatched the water gun. Startled, Wooyoung spun on his heel to see his personal bodyguard, Choi San, standing calmly with the said toy in hand. San, ever the stoic, handed the water gun to the queen with a respectful nod. “San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, half-pouting. “I thought you were on my side.”

San, his expression as unchanging as stone, handed the toy to the queen without a word. There was, however, the slightest hint of amusement in his dark eyes, barely noticeable to anyone but Wooyoung.

Queen Jung raised an eyebrow, accepting the water gun with a graceful nod. “I appreciate your sense of fun, Woo, but we must be presentable today.”  Her voice carried both affection and authority as she turned, her gown sweeping across the polished floor.

Wooyoung sighed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Killjoys. Both of you.”

The queen's lips quirked upwards, but she didn’t allow herself to indulge her son's antics too much. “You’ll thank us when you’re king,” she said with a smirk. “Now come, we have more important matters to attend to.”

Wooyoung let out a sigh but followed obediently, sulking slightly. San took his usual place beside him, his expression unreadable, though Wooyoung was certain he saw the faintest hint of amusement in his guard’s eyes.

As they approached the large oak doors of the throne room, San strode ahead to push them open with ease. The grand hall revealed itself—stately and imposing, yet familiar to Wooyoung, who had grown up in its shadow. He frowned at his mother’s earlier words and hurried to catch up to her side. “Is someone visiting us?”

His mother’s gaze softened as they approached the grand oak doors leading to the throne room. Queen Jung sighed and came to a stop halfway to the throne, turning to face her son. With gentle hands, she straightened his collar and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders. Her fingers lingered as she smoothed back a strand of his hair, her eyes softening. “Yes, we have guests. Now, behave.” She gave his arm a firm pat before moving to her seat.

The giant doors opened with a low creak, revealing the grandeur of the throne room. Tall marble pillars stood like silent sentinels, and the throne, bathed in the afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows, gleamed with opulence. A long crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the dais where the queen’s throne awaited.

San moved ahead to open the doors wide, allowing Wooyoung and his mother to enter. As Wooyoung followed, he couldn’t help but feel a familiar sense of rebellion simmering within him. He despised the endless cycle of formality, the rigid expectations, the way everyone seemed to be watching his every move—waiting for him to act like the perfect prince.

As they neared the thrones, Wooyoung’s playful mood returned. He slouched slightly in his seat, letting out a long sigh. “Formalities, formalities,” he muttered under his breath. “Do they ever get tired of this?”

Before Queen Jung could scold him for his posture, the doors to the throne room opened again. Four figures entered—Yeosang leading the way, his expression calm as always. Behind him, two unfamiliar guests followed closely: an older man, dignified and imposing, and a younger figure—a young apprentice, it seemed, with nervous eyes that darted around the room.

The elder man, who appeared to be some sort of senior advisor, bowed deeply. His apprentice followed suit, though his bow was clumsier. Wooyoung glanced at them, his interest barely sparked until the advisor’s voice filled the hall.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to stand before you,” the advisor said, his voice polished with years of political practice. He gestured to the apprentice beside him. “This is my apprentice, Jayon, who accompanies me today.”

Queen Jung acknowledged them with a nod, though her attention flicked back to her son. “Thank you, Yeosang, for assisting these two gentlemen,” she said, settling into her throne. “Now, please, what is it that brings you here today?”

The elder advisor stepped forward, his voice dropping an octave. “Your Majesty, we come with a matter that concerns the future of the kingdom—an alliance that we believe will strengthen our nation.”

Wooyoung’s fingers tapped idly on the armrest of his throne, half-listening. He had heard this sort of speech a hundred times before. What caught his attention, however, was the advisor’s sudden shift in tone.

“But before we discuss this alliance, there is a pressing issue at hand,” the advisor continued, his eyes briefly darting toward Wooyoung. “The Crown Prince’s behavior.”

Wooyoung tensed, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. He immediately stiffened, his playful demeanor vanishing. His eyes narrowed as the advisor went on, his voice heavy with disapproval.

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s recent actions—pranks on the palace staff, running through the halls like a child, and, dare I say, using... water guns—have not gone unnoticed. It is unbecoming of a future king.”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. He was about to speak when his mother, who had been watching the advisor carefully, raised her hand, signaling her son to remain silent. The room grew still as Queen Jung regarded the advisor coolly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Is that so?” Her tone was neutral, but Wooyoung knew his mother well. She was no longer amused.

The advisor, emboldened by the lack of immediate reprimand, continued. “Yes, Your Majesty. It is that the Crown Prince set an example for the people—especially in these delicate times. We believe it is in the kingdom’s best interest that the Crown Prince—”

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Without warning, Queen Jung raised the water gun she still held in her hand and fired a stream of water directly at the advisor’s face. The cold splash hit him squarely on the forehead, soaking his perfectly coiffed hair and dripping down his nose.

The entire room froze.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and delight coursing through him. He fought the urge to burst into laughter as he watched the advisor sputter and stumble back in shock, his face a picture of utter disbelief.

“Y-Your Majesty!” he stammered, his shock visible as his hair dripping, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe, his dignity now hanging by a thread.

The queen leaned back in her throne, the water gun still in her hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “If anyone wishes to question my son’s character,” she began, her voice calm but laced with unmistakable authority, “perhaps they should first learn to handle a little fun.”

Wooyoung bit back a laugh, settling into his seat, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Good shot, Mother.”

The advisor, now red-faced and thoroughly humiliated, muttered a hasty apology. “I... I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty.”

The queen waved him off, her expression amused. “No harm done.” She twirled the water gun in her hand like a royal scepter. “Now, if we’re finished with the lectures, let’s move on to more important matters—like the proposed alliance. Or,” she raised an eyebrow, “do you need a moment to dry off?”

The advisor opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, his apprentice standing stiffly beside him, clearly trying not to laugh. Yeosang, ever the composed figure, remained silent, though Wooyoung swore he saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his usually stoic face.

San, who had been standing quietly by the door the whole time, stepped forward and handed the advisor a pristine handkerchief without a word, his expression as neutral as ever. But Wooyoung caught the faint gleam in his eyes—the same look he had seen earlier.

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face. Not when his mother was on his side.

Headlines filled with images of Queen Jung and her water gun incident flashed across every news outlet, some praising her playful rebellion, others less forgiving of her unconventional display.

“Queen Jung’s Sharp Aim Shuts Down Royal Critics!”

“Water Guns: The Queen’s New Diplomacy Tool!”

Sitting in the back of a sleek black car, Hwang Hyejin scrolled through the headlines, the corners of her lips twitching in mild amusement. Of course, Queen Jung would steal the spotlight in such an unexpected way. As the images of the soaked advisor circulated, Hyejin could practically feel the political waters stirring.

The cityscape gave way to lush greenery as the car approached the towering iron gates of the royal palace. Sunlight reflected off the intricate gold accents of the gate, a visual reminder of the power and legacy housed within those walls. But behind the glittering facade lay the real reason for her presence: secrets, betrayals, and a growing threat aimed squarely at Crown Prince Wooyoung.

Hyejin inhaled deeply, letting the gravity of her mission settle over her. Today was the day it would all begin—the undercover operation to protect the crown prince, and uncover those lurking in the shadows of the royal court. She would pose as a royal advisor, her expertise in national security the perfect cover for her real objective: identify the threat, and eliminate it without ever revealing her true purpose. She couldn’t afford any mistakes.

The sleek car slowed to a halt, the soft hum of the engine fading into silence as Captain Kleo’s gravelly voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his dark eyes catching hers in the rearview mirror. His voice held the weight of experience, his graying hair a testament to the dangerous missions they’d been on together.

“Yes,” Hyejin replied, her voice steady, betraying none of the nerves that churned beneath her calm exterior. She reached for the thick dossier on the seat beside her. It contained every detail she had gathered on the Jung family, the palace staff, the royal guard, and, most importantly, the advisors—specifically Yeosang, who had an unshakable reputation for loyalty. He would be the hardest one to fool, but also the one she had to watch the closest. He was too perfect.

She flipped the folder open, scanning over the profiles one last time. There was something unsettling about how little anyone knew about the real dynamics within the palace. Rumors were abundant, but concrete evidence? That was rare. As much as this mission was about protecting the prince, it was also about learning who, if anyone, could be trusted.

The gates slowly creaked open, revealing the long, cobblestone path lined with manicured gardens leading to the grand palace entrance. The walls of the palace loomed like a fortress, its pristine beauty concealing the danger that lay inside. Hyejin knew that behind the elegance and power of the royal family was a web of lies, deceit, and power struggles—one she was about to step right into.

Captain Kleo pulled the car to a final stop near the front steps of the palace. Hyejin could feel his gaze lingering on her as she adjusted her jacket and slipped the dossier into her briefcase.

“Once you’re in, Hyejin, there’s no going back,” he said, his tone not quite questioning her decision, but reminding her of the stakes.

“I know,” she replied, her expression hardening as she smoothed out her formal attire. “But this is what I do. Find the threat. Protect the prince.”

Kleo nodded curtly. “Just remember, they’ll be watching your every move. Even the ones who don’t know what you’re up to will be curious. The palace is full of eyes and ears.”

Hyejin’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “I’m counting on it.”

As she stepped out of the car, the air around the palace felt different, thicker with expectation. Her shoes clicked against the stone steps as she approached the entrance, each step taking her deeper into the heart of her mission. She’d been in dangerous situations before, but this felt different. This wasn’t a battlefield—this was a game of politics, manipulation, and secrecy. Every move she made had to be precise.

A liveried palace attendant greeted her with a deep bow before gesturing toward the entrance. “Advisor Hwang, we’ve been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

Hyejin’s eyes swept the entrance hall as they stepped inside. The ceilings stretched high above, adorned with intricate frescoes of the kingdom’s history. Marble columns flanked the hall, and large, arched windows let in streams of golden sunlight. It was a place meant to impress, to remind visitors of the kingdom’s grandeur.

But Hyejin wasn’t easily swayed by beauty. She was here for the truth—and to find the cracks hidden behind the polished surfaces.

As the attendant led her deeper into the palace, toward the advisor’s wing, her mind returned to the key players she’d be working alongside. First and foremost, Yeosang, the chief advisor. His reputation was sterling, but that only made him more of an enigma. His loyalty to the Jung family was unquestioned, but Hyejin knew better than to take anyone at face value. Then there was San, Wooyoung’s personal bodyguard, a figure of silent strength and unflinching duty. She’d have to tread carefully around him; any misstep and San’s sharp instincts might lead him to sniff out her true motives.

They reached a set of large double doors, and the attendant paused. “The advisors are gathered for a security briefing, as per your request,” he said with a slight bow. “Shall I announce you?”

Hyejin took a breath. Her mask of calm authority slipped into place, hiding the storm of thoughts beneath. “No need,” she replied coolly. “I’ll make my own introduction.”

The doors swung open, revealing a large room filled with key members of the royal court, each dressed in formal attire. At the head of the table sat Yeosang, his expression calm but focused, his eyes meeting hers the moment she entered. Around the table, other advisors murmured, exchanging glances as she strode in.

All eyes were on her now, and Hyejin welcomed it, flashing them all a formal smile as you bowed your head, eyeing each of the advisors. As your head rises up, your hands clasp in front of you, “Gentlemen, greetings. I’m Hwang Hyejin.” 

The real game had begun.

[xuchiya]

NEW MINI SERIES IS UP!

"everyday" || jung wooyoung || mini-series

|genre: non!idol wooyoung. bodyguard! reader. fluff. a lil bit of humor(?) angst. violence |mentions: guns. knives. blood. a lil bit gore. anxiety attack

"Jung Wooyoung!"

Queen Jung’s voice reverberated through the palace corridors like a warning bell. Her son, Crown Prince Wooyoung, grinned mischievously, as he concealed the water gun behind him. His younger brother's cries for mercy still echoed faintly, but Wooyoung’s focus remained on his escape.

Footsteps clicked sharply on the polished floors, drawing closer. The queen, draped in her royal gown, moved with the commanding grace of a monarch, yet her brow was furrowed in a mix of frustration and maternal exasperation. The trailing skirts of her deep sapphire dress whispered against the floor as she came to a stop before her son. Her gaze, sharp and knowing, softened ever so slightly, but her voice remained firm.

“He keeps picking on me.” Kyungmin cried, pointing at his older brother Wooyoung. Queen Jung sighs beckoning Kyungmin to come at him, her fingers wiping some strands of wet hair away from his face before she calls over his personal maid, “Please assist him to his room and change.”

The maid bowed, “Of course, my Queen.” Queen Jung leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his head before they were ushered to the opposite direction. When their figure disappeared around the corner, her gaze set back to his other son.

“Hand it over, Wooyoung,” she said, extending her hand, palm open.

Wooyoung, still feigning innocence, gave her his most charming smile.“I don’t want to~” he replied, his voice sweet as honey,  a giggle escaping when he saw the familiar look of resignation cross his mother’s face. But before he could even attempt an escape, a shadow loomed behind him.

Before Wooyoung could dart away, a tall figure stepped behind him and swiftly snatched the water gun. Startled, Wooyoung spun on his heel to see his personal bodyguard, Choi San, standing calmly with the said toy in hand. San, ever the stoic, handed the water gun to the queen with a respectful nod. “San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, half-pouting. “I thought you were on my side.”

San, his expression as unchanging as stone, handed the toy to the queen without a word. There was, however, the slightest hint of amusement in his dark eyes, barely noticeable to anyone but Wooyoung.

Queen Jung raised an eyebrow, accepting the water gun with a graceful nod. “I appreciate your sense of fun, Woo, but we must be presentable today.”  Her voice carried both affection and authority as she turned, her gown sweeping across the polished floor.

Wooyoung sighed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Killjoys. Both of you.”

The queen's lips quirked upwards, but she didn’t allow herself to indulge her son's antics too much. “You’ll thank us when you’re king,” she said with a smirk. “Now come, we have more important matters to attend to.”

Wooyoung let out a sigh but followed obediently, sulking slightly. San took his usual place beside him, his expression unreadable, though Wooyoung was certain he saw the faintest hint of amusement in his guard’s eyes.

As they approached the large oak doors of the throne room, San strode ahead to push them open with ease. The grand hall revealed itself—stately and imposing, yet familiar to Wooyoung, who had grown up in its shadow. He frowned at his mother’s earlier words and hurried to catch up to her side. “Is someone visiting us?”

His mother’s gaze softened as they approached the grand oak doors leading to the throne room. Queen Jung sighed and came to a stop halfway to the throne, turning to face her son. With gentle hands, she straightened his collar and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders. Her fingers lingered as she smoothed back a strand of his hair, her eyes softening. “Yes, we have guests. Now, behave.” She gave his arm a firm pat before moving to her seat.

The giant doors opened with a low creak, revealing the grandeur of the throne room. Tall marble pillars stood like silent sentinels, and the throne, bathed in the afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows, gleamed with opulence. A long crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the dais where the queen’s throne awaited.

San moved ahead to open the doors wide, allowing Wooyoung and his mother to enter. As Wooyoung followed, he couldn’t help but feel a familiar sense of rebellion simmering within him. He despised the endless cycle of formality, the rigid expectations, the way everyone seemed to be watching his every move—waiting for him to act like the perfect prince.

As they neared the thrones, Wooyoung’s playful mood returned. He slouched slightly in his seat, letting out a long sigh. “Formalities, formalities,” he muttered under his breath. “Do they ever get tired of this?”

Before Queen Jung could scold him for his posture, the doors to the throne room opened again. Four figures entered—Yeosang leading the way, his expression calm as always. Behind him, two unfamiliar guests followed closely: an older man, dignified and imposing, and a younger figure—a young apprentice, it seemed, with nervous eyes that darted around the room.

The elder man, who appeared to be some sort of senior advisor, bowed deeply. His apprentice followed suit, though his bow was clumsier. Wooyoung glanced at them, his interest barely sparked until the advisor’s voice filled the hall.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to stand before you,” the advisor said, his voice polished with years of political practice. He gestured to the apprentice beside him. “This is my apprentice, Jayon, who accompanies me today.”

Queen Jung acknowledged them with a nod, though her attention flicked back to her son. “Thank you, Yeosang, for assisting these two gentlemen,” she said, settling into her throne. “Now, please, what is it that brings you here today?”

The elder advisor stepped forward, his voice dropping an octave. “Your Majesty, we come with a matter that concerns the future of the kingdom—an alliance that we believe will strengthen our nation.”

Wooyoung’s fingers tapped idly on the armrest of his throne, half-listening. He had heard this sort of speech a hundred times before. What caught his attention, however, was the advisor’s sudden shift in tone.

“But before we discuss this alliance, there is a pressing issue at hand,” the advisor continued, his eyes briefly darting toward Wooyoung. “The Crown Prince’s behavior.”

Wooyoung tensed, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. He immediately stiffened, his playful demeanor vanishing. His eyes narrowed as the advisor went on, his voice heavy with disapproval.

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s recent actions—pranks on the palace staff, running through the halls like a child, and, dare I say, using... water guns—have not gone unnoticed. It is unbecoming of a future king.”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. He was about to speak when his mother, who had been watching the advisor carefully, raised her hand, signaling her son to remain silent. The room grew still as Queen Jung regarded the advisor coolly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Is that so?” Her tone was neutral, but Wooyoung knew his mother well. She was no longer amused.

The advisor, emboldened by the lack of immediate reprimand, continued. “Yes, Your Majesty. It is that the Crown Prince set an example for the people—especially in these delicate times. We believe it is in the kingdom’s best interest that the Crown Prince—”

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Without warning, Queen Jung raised the water gun she still held in her hand and fired a stream of water directly at the advisor’s face. The cold splash hit him squarely on the forehead, soaking his perfectly coiffed hair and dripping down his nose.

The entire room froze.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and delight coursing through him. He fought the urge to burst into laughter as he watched the advisor sputter and stumble back in shock, his face a picture of utter disbelief.

“Y-Your Majesty!” he stammered, his shock visible as his hair dripping, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe, his dignity now hanging by a thread.

The queen leaned back in her throne, the water gun still in her hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “If anyone wishes to question my son’s character,” she began, her voice calm but laced with unmistakable authority, “perhaps they should first learn to handle a little fun.”

Wooyoung bit back a laugh, settling into his seat, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Good shot, Mother.”

The advisor, now red-faced and thoroughly humiliated, muttered a hasty apology. “I... I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty.”

The queen waved him off, her expression amused. “No harm done.” She twirled the water gun in her hand like a royal scepter. “Now, if we’re finished with the lectures, let’s move on to more important matters—like the proposed alliance. Or,” she raised an eyebrow, “do you need a moment to dry off?”

The advisor opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, his apprentice standing stiffly beside him, clearly trying not to laugh. Yeosang, ever the composed figure, remained silent, though Wooyoung swore he saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his usually stoic face.

San, who had been standing quietly by the door the whole time, stepped forward and handed the advisor a pristine handkerchief without a word, his expression as neutral as ever. But Wooyoung caught the faint gleam in his eyes—the same look he had seen earlier.

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face. Not when his mother was on his side.

Headlines filled with images of Queen Jung and her water gun incident flashed across every news outlet, some praising her playful rebellion, others less forgiving of her unconventional display.

“Queen Jung’s Sharp Aim Shuts Down Royal Critics!”

“Water Guns: The Queen’s New Diplomacy Tool!”

Sitting in the back of a sleek black car, Hwang Hyejin scrolled through the headlines, the corners of her lips twitching in mild amusement. Of course, Queen Jung would steal the spotlight in such an unexpected way. As the images of the soaked advisor circulated, Hyejin could practically feel the political waters stirring.

The cityscape gave way to lush greenery as the car approached the towering iron gates of the royal palace. Sunlight reflected off the intricate gold accents of the gate, a visual reminder of the power and legacy housed within those walls. But behind the glittering facade lay the real reason for her presence: secrets, betrayals, and a growing threat aimed squarely at Crown Prince Wooyoung.

Hyejin inhaled deeply, letting the gravity of her mission settle over her. Today was the day it would all begin—the undercover operation to protect the crown prince, and uncover those lurking in the shadows of the royal court. She would pose as a royal advisor, her expertise in national security the perfect cover for her real objective: identify the threat, and eliminate it without ever revealing her true purpose. She couldn’t afford any mistakes.

The sleek car slowed to a halt, the soft hum of the engine fading into silence as Captain Kleo’s gravelly voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his dark eyes catching hers in the rearview mirror. His voice held the weight of experience, his graying hair a testament to the dangerous missions they’d been on together.

“Yes,” Hyejin replied, her voice steady, betraying none of the nerves that churned beneath her calm exterior. She reached for the thick dossier on the seat beside her. It contained every detail she had gathered on the Jung family, the palace staff, the royal guard, and, most importantly, the advisors—specifically Yeosang, who had an unshakable reputation for loyalty. He would be the hardest one to fool, but also the one she had to watch the closest. He was too perfect.

She flipped the folder open, scanning over the profiles one last time. There was something unsettling about how little anyone knew about the real dynamics within the palace. Rumors were abundant, but concrete evidence? That was rare. As much as this mission was about protecting the prince, it was also about learning who, if anyone, could be trusted.

The gates slowly creaked open, revealing the long, cobblestone path lined with manicured gardens leading to the grand palace entrance. The walls of the palace loomed like a fortress, its pristine beauty concealing the danger that lay inside. Hyejin knew that behind the elegance and power of the royal family was a web of lies, deceit, and power struggles—one she was about to step right into.

Captain Kleo pulled the car to a final stop near the front steps of the palace. Hyejin could feel his gaze lingering on her as she adjusted her jacket and slipped the dossier into her briefcase.

“Once you’re in, Hyejin, there’s no going back,” he said, his tone not quite questioning her decision, but reminding her of the stakes.

“I know,” she replied, her expression hardening as she smoothed out her formal attire. “But this is what I do. Find the threat. Protect the prince.”

Kleo nodded curtly. “Just remember, they’ll be watching your every move. Even the ones who don’t know what you’re up to will be curious. The palace is full of eyes and ears.”

Hyejin’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “I’m counting on it.”

As she stepped out of the car, the air around the palace felt different, thicker with expectation. Her shoes clicked against the stone steps as she approached the entrance, each step taking her deeper into the heart of her mission. She’d been in dangerous situations before, but this felt different. This wasn’t a battlefield—this was a game of politics, manipulation, and secrecy. Every move she made had to be precise.

A liveried palace attendant greeted her with a deep bow before gesturing toward the entrance. “Advisor Hwang, we’ve been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

Hyejin’s eyes swept the entrance hall as they stepped inside. The ceilings stretched high above, adorned with intricate frescoes of the kingdom’s history. Marble columns flanked the hall, and large, arched windows let in streams of golden sunlight. It was a place meant to impress, to remind visitors of the kingdom’s grandeur.

But Hyejin wasn’t easily swayed by beauty. She was here for the truth—and to find the cracks hidden behind the polished surfaces.

As the attendant led her deeper into the palace, toward the advisor’s wing, her mind returned to the key players she’d be working alongside. First and foremost, Yeosang, the chief advisor. His reputation was sterling, but that only made him more of an enigma. His loyalty to the Jung family was unquestioned, but Hyejin knew better than to take anyone at face value. Then there was San, Wooyoung’s personal bodyguard, a figure of silent strength and unflinching duty. She’d have to tread carefully around him; any misstep and San’s sharp instincts might lead him to sniff out her true motives.

They reached a set of large double doors, and the attendant paused. “The advisors are gathered for a security briefing, as per your request,” he said with a slight bow. “Shall I announce you?”

Hyejin took a breath. Her mask of calm authority slipped into place, hiding the storm of thoughts beneath. “No need,” she replied coolly. “I’ll make my own introduction.”

The doors swung open, revealing a large room filled with key members of the royal court, each dressed in formal attire. At the head of the table sat Yeosang, his expression calm but focused, his eyes meeting hers the moment she entered. Around the table, other advisors murmured, exchanging glances as she strode in.

All eyes were on her now, and Hyejin welcomed it, flashing them all a formal smile as you bowed your head, eyeing each of the advisors. As your head rises up, your hands clasp in front of you, “Gentlemen, greetings. I’m Hwang Hyejin.” 

The real game had begun.

[xuchiya]

NEW MINI SERIES IS UP!

"everyday" || jung wooyoung || mini-series

|genre: non!idol wooyoung. bodyguard! reader. fluff. a lil bit of humor(?) angst. violence |mentions: guns. knives. blood. a lil bit gore. anxiety attack

"Jung Wooyoung!"

Queen Jung’s voice reverberated through the palace corridors like a warning bell. Her son, Crown Prince Wooyoung, grinned mischievously, as he concealed the water gun behind him. His younger brother's cries for mercy still echoed faintly, but Wooyoung’s focus remained on his escape.

Footsteps clicked sharply on the polished floors, drawing closer. The queen, draped in her royal gown, moved with the commanding grace of a monarch, yet her brow was furrowed in a mix of frustration and maternal exasperation. The trailing skirts of her deep sapphire dress whispered against the floor as she came to a stop before her son. Her gaze, sharp and knowing, softened ever so slightly, but her voice remained firm.

“He keeps picking on me.” Kyungmin cried, pointing at his older brother Wooyoung. Queen Jung sighs beckoning Kyungmin to come at him, her fingers wiping some strands of wet hair away from his face before she calls over his personal maid, “Please assist him to his room and change.”

The maid bowed, “Of course, my Queen.” Queen Jung leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his head before they were ushered to the opposite direction. When their figure disappeared around the corner, her gaze set back to his other son.

“Hand it over, Wooyoung,” she said, extending her hand, palm open.

Wooyoung, still feigning innocence, gave her his most charming smile.“I don’t want to~” he replied, his voice sweet as honey,  a giggle escaping when he saw the familiar look of resignation cross his mother’s face. But before he could even attempt an escape, a shadow loomed behind him.

Before Wooyoung could dart away, a tall figure stepped behind him and swiftly snatched the water gun. Startled, Wooyoung spun on his heel to see his personal bodyguard, Choi San, standing calmly with the said toy in hand. San, ever the stoic, handed the water gun to the queen with a respectful nod. “San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, half-pouting. “I thought you were on my side.”

San, his expression as unchanging as stone, handed the toy to the queen without a word. There was, however, the slightest hint of amusement in his dark eyes, barely noticeable to anyone but Wooyoung.

Queen Jung raised an eyebrow, accepting the water gun with a graceful nod. “I appreciate your sense of fun, Woo, but we must be presentable today.”  Her voice carried both affection and authority as she turned, her gown sweeping across the polished floor.

Wooyoung sighed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Killjoys. Both of you.”

The queen's lips quirked upwards, but she didn’t allow herself to indulge her son's antics too much. “You’ll thank us when you’re king,” she said with a smirk. “Now come, we have more important matters to attend to.”

Wooyoung let out a sigh but followed obediently, sulking slightly. San took his usual place beside him, his expression unreadable, though Wooyoung was certain he saw the faintest hint of amusement in his guard’s eyes.

As they approached the large oak doors of the throne room, San strode ahead to push them open with ease. The grand hall revealed itself—stately and imposing, yet familiar to Wooyoung, who had grown up in its shadow. He frowned at his mother’s earlier words and hurried to catch up to her side. “Is someone visiting us?”

His mother’s gaze softened as they approached the grand oak doors leading to the throne room. Queen Jung sighed and came to a stop halfway to the throne, turning to face her son. With gentle hands, she straightened his collar and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders. Her fingers lingered as she smoothed back a strand of his hair, her eyes softening. “Yes, we have guests. Now, behave.” She gave his arm a firm pat before moving to her seat.

The giant doors opened with a low creak, revealing the grandeur of the throne room. Tall marble pillars stood like silent sentinels, and the throne, bathed in the afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows, gleamed with opulence. A long crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the dais where the queen’s throne awaited.

San moved ahead to open the doors wide, allowing Wooyoung and his mother to enter. As Wooyoung followed, he couldn’t help but feel a familiar sense of rebellion simmering within him. He despised the endless cycle of formality, the rigid expectations, the way everyone seemed to be watching his every move—waiting for him to act like the perfect prince.

As they neared the thrones, Wooyoung’s playful mood returned. He slouched slightly in his seat, letting out a long sigh. “Formalities, formalities,” he muttered under his breath. “Do they ever get tired of this?”

Before Queen Jung could scold him for his posture, the doors to the throne room opened again. Four figures entered—Yeosang leading the way, his expression calm as always. Behind him, two unfamiliar guests followed closely: an older man, dignified and imposing, and a younger figure—a young apprentice, it seemed, with nervous eyes that darted around the room.

The elder man, who appeared to be some sort of senior advisor, bowed deeply. His apprentice followed suit, though his bow was clumsier. Wooyoung glanced at them, his interest barely sparked until the advisor’s voice filled the hall.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to stand before you,” the advisor said, his voice polished with years of political practice. He gestured to the apprentice beside him. “This is my apprentice, Jayon, who accompanies me today.”

Queen Jung acknowledged them with a nod, though her attention flicked back to her son. “Thank you, Yeosang, for assisting these two gentlemen,” she said, settling into her throne. “Now, please, what is it that brings you here today?”

The elder advisor stepped forward, his voice dropping an octave. “Your Majesty, we come with a matter that concerns the future of the kingdom—an alliance that we believe will strengthen our nation.”

Wooyoung’s fingers tapped idly on the armrest of his throne, half-listening. He had heard this sort of speech a hundred times before. What caught his attention, however, was the advisor’s sudden shift in tone.

“But before we discuss this alliance, there is a pressing issue at hand,” the advisor continued, his eyes briefly darting toward Wooyoung. “The Crown Prince’s behavior.”

Wooyoung tensed, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. He immediately stiffened, his playful demeanor vanishing. His eyes narrowed as the advisor went on, his voice heavy with disapproval.

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s recent actions—pranks on the palace staff, running through the halls like a child, and, dare I say, using... water guns—have not gone unnoticed. It is unbecoming of a future king.”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. He was about to speak when his mother, who had been watching the advisor carefully, raised her hand, signaling her son to remain silent. The room grew still as Queen Jung regarded the advisor coolly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Is that so?” Her tone was neutral, but Wooyoung knew his mother well. She was no longer amused.

The advisor, emboldened by the lack of immediate reprimand, continued. “Yes, Your Majesty. It is that the Crown Prince set an example for the people—especially in these delicate times. We believe it is in the kingdom’s best interest that the Crown Prince—”

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Without warning, Queen Jung raised the water gun she still held in her hand and fired a stream of water directly at the advisor’s face. The cold splash hit him squarely on the forehead, soaking his perfectly coiffed hair and dripping down his nose.

The entire room froze.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and delight coursing through him. He fought the urge to burst into laughter as he watched the advisor sputter and stumble back in shock, his face a picture of utter disbelief.

“Y-Your Majesty!” he stammered, his shock visible as his hair dripping, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe, his dignity now hanging by a thread.

The queen leaned back in her throne, the water gun still in her hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “If anyone wishes to question my son’s character,” she began, her voice calm but laced with unmistakable authority, “perhaps they should first learn to handle a little fun.”

Wooyoung bit back a laugh, settling into his seat, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Good shot, Mother.”

The advisor, now red-faced and thoroughly humiliated, muttered a hasty apology. “I... I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty.”

The queen waved him off, her expression amused. “No harm done.” She twirled the water gun in her hand like a royal scepter. “Now, if we’re finished with the lectures, let’s move on to more important matters—like the proposed alliance. Or,” she raised an eyebrow, “do you need a moment to dry off?”

The advisor opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, his apprentice standing stiffly beside him, clearly trying not to laugh. Yeosang, ever the composed figure, remained silent, though Wooyoung swore he saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his usually stoic face.

San, who had been standing quietly by the door the whole time, stepped forward and handed the advisor a pristine handkerchief without a word, his expression as neutral as ever. But Wooyoung caught the faint gleam in his eyes—the same look he had seen earlier.

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face. Not when his mother was on his side.

Headlines filled with images of Queen Jung and her water gun incident flashed across every news outlet, some praising her playful rebellion, others less forgiving of her unconventional display.

“Queen Jung’s Sharp Aim Shuts Down Royal Critics!”

“Water Guns: The Queen’s New Diplomacy Tool!”

Sitting in the back of a sleek black car, Hwang Hyejin scrolled through the headlines, the corners of her lips twitching in mild amusement. Of course, Queen Jung would steal the spotlight in such an unexpected way. As the images of the soaked advisor circulated, Hyejin could practically feel the political waters stirring.

The cityscape gave way to lush greenery as the car approached the towering iron gates of the royal palace. Sunlight reflected off the intricate gold accents of the gate, a visual reminder of the power and legacy housed within those walls. But behind the glittering facade lay the real reason for her presence: secrets, betrayals, and a growing threat aimed squarely at Crown Prince Wooyoung.

Hyejin inhaled deeply, letting the gravity of her mission settle over her. Today was the day it would all begin—the undercover operation to protect the crown prince, and uncover those lurking in the shadows of the royal court. She would pose as a royal advisor, her expertise in national security the perfect cover for her real objective: identify the threat, and eliminate it without ever revealing her true purpose. She couldn’t afford any mistakes.

The sleek car slowed to a halt, the soft hum of the engine fading into silence as Captain Kleo’s gravelly voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his dark eyes catching hers in the rearview mirror. His voice held the weight of experience, his graying hair a testament to the dangerous missions they’d been on together.

“Yes,” Hyejin replied, her voice steady, betraying none of the nerves that churned beneath her calm exterior. She reached for the thick dossier on the seat beside her. It contained every detail she had gathered on the Jung family, the palace staff, the royal guard, and, most importantly, the advisors—specifically Yeosang, who had an unshakable reputation for loyalty. He would be the hardest one to fool, but also the one she had to watch the closest. He was too perfect.

She flipped the folder open, scanning over the profiles one last time. There was something unsettling about how little anyone knew about the real dynamics within the palace. Rumors were abundant, but concrete evidence? That was rare. As much as this mission was about protecting the prince, it was also about learning who, if anyone, could be trusted.

The gates slowly creaked open, revealing the long, cobblestone path lined with manicured gardens leading to the grand palace entrance. The walls of the palace loomed like a fortress, its pristine beauty concealing the danger that lay inside. Hyejin knew that behind the elegance and power of the royal family was a web of lies, deceit, and power struggles—one she was about to step right into.

Captain Kleo pulled the car to a final stop near the front steps of the palace. Hyejin could feel his gaze lingering on her as she adjusted her jacket and slipped the dossier into her briefcase.

“Once you’re in, Hyejin, there’s no going back,” he said, his tone not quite questioning her decision, but reminding her of the stakes.

“I know,” she replied, her expression hardening as she smoothed out her formal attire. “But this is what I do. Find the threat. Protect the prince.”

Kleo nodded curtly. “Just remember, they’ll be watching your every move. Even the ones who don’t know what you’re up to will be curious. The palace is full of eyes and ears.”

Hyejin’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “I’m counting on it.”

As she stepped out of the car, the air around the palace felt different, thicker with expectation. Her shoes clicked against the stone steps as she approached the entrance, each step taking her deeper into the heart of her mission. She’d been in dangerous situations before, but this felt different. This wasn’t a battlefield—this was a game of politics, manipulation, and secrecy. Every move she made had to be precise.

A liveried palace attendant greeted her with a deep bow before gesturing toward the entrance. “Advisor Hwang, we’ve been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

Hyejin’s eyes swept the entrance hall as they stepped inside. The ceilings stretched high above, adorned with intricate frescoes of the kingdom’s history. Marble columns flanked the hall, and large, arched windows let in streams of golden sunlight. It was a place meant to impress, to remind visitors of the kingdom’s grandeur.

But Hyejin wasn’t easily swayed by beauty. She was here for the truth—and to find the cracks hidden behind the polished surfaces.

As the attendant led her deeper into the palace, toward the advisor’s wing, her mind returned to the key players she’d be working alongside. First and foremost, Yeosang, the chief advisor. His reputation was sterling, but that only made him more of an enigma. His loyalty to the Jung family was unquestioned, but Hyejin knew better than to take anyone at face value. Then there was San, Wooyoung’s personal bodyguard, a figure of silent strength and unflinching duty. She’d have to tread carefully around him; any misstep and San’s sharp instincts might lead him to sniff out her true motives.

They reached a set of large double doors, and the attendant paused. “The advisors are gathered for a security briefing, as per your request,” he said with a slight bow. “Shall I announce you?”

Hyejin took a breath. Her mask of calm authority slipped into place, hiding the storm of thoughts beneath. “No need,” she replied coolly. “I’ll make my own introduction.”

The doors swung open, revealing a large room filled with key members of the royal court, each dressed in formal attire. At the head of the table sat Yeosang, his expression calm but focused, his eyes meeting hers the moment she entered. Around the table, other advisors murmured, exchanging glances as she strode in.

All eyes were on her now, and Hyejin welcomed it, flashing them all a formal smile as you bowed your head, eyeing each of the advisors. As your head rises up, your hands clasp in front of you, “Gentlemen, greetings. I’m Hwang Hyejin.” 

The real game had begun.

[xuchiya]

"everyday" || jung wooyoung || mini-series

|genre: non!idol wooyoung. advisor-unvercover! reader. fluff. a lil bit of humor(?) angst. violence |mentions: guns. knives. blood. a lil bit gore. anxiety attack

"Jung Wooyoung!"

Queen Jung’s voice reverberated through the palace corridors like a warning bell. Her son, Crown Prince Wooyoung, grinned mischievously, as he concealed the water gun behind him. His younger brother's cries for mercy still echoed faintly, but Wooyoung’s focus remained on his escape.

Footsteps clicked sharply on the polished floors, drawing closer. The queen, draped in her royal gown, moved with the commanding grace of a monarch, yet her brow was furrowed in a mix of frustration and maternal exasperation. The trailing skirts of her deep sapphire dress whispered against the floor as she came to a stop before her son. Her gaze, sharp and knowing, softened ever so slightly, but her voice remained firm.

“He keeps picking on me.” Kyungmin cried, pointing at his older brother Wooyoung. Queen Jung sighs beckoning Kyungmin to come at him, her fingers wiping some strands of wet hair away from his face before she calls over his personal maid, “Please assist him to his room and change.”

The maid bowed, “Of course, my Queen.” Queen Jung leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his head before they were ushered to the opposite direction. When their figure disappeared around the corner, her gaze set back to his other son.

“Hand it over, Wooyoung,” she said, extending her hand, palm open.

Wooyoung, still feigning innocence, gave her his most charming smile.“I don’t want to~” he replied, his voice sweet as honey,  a giggle escaping when he saw the familiar look of resignation cross his mother’s face. But before he could even attempt an escape, a shadow loomed behind him.

Before Wooyoung could dart away, a tall figure stepped behind him and swiftly snatched the water gun. Startled, Wooyoung spun on his heel to see his personal bodyguard, Choi San, standing calmly with the said toy in hand. San, ever the stoic, handed the water gun to the queen with a respectful nod. “San!” Wooyoung exclaimed, half-pouting. “I thought you were on my side.”

San, his expression as unchanging as stone, handed the toy to the queen without a word. There was, however, the slightest hint of amusement in his dark eyes, barely noticeable to anyone but Wooyoung.

Queen Jung raised an eyebrow, accepting the water gun with a graceful nod. “I appreciate your sense of fun, Woo, but we must be presentable today.”  Her voice carried both affection and authority as she turned, her gown sweeping across the polished floor.

Wooyoung sighed dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Killjoys. Both of you.”

The queen's lips quirked upwards, but she didn’t allow herself to indulge her son's antics too much. “You’ll thank us when you’re king,” she said with a smirk. “Now come, we have more important matters to attend to.”

Wooyoung let out a sigh but followed obediently, sulking slightly. San took his usual place beside him, his expression unreadable, though Wooyoung was certain he saw the faintest hint of amusement in his guard’s eyes.

As they approached the large oak doors of the throne room, San strode ahead to push them open with ease. The grand hall revealed itself—stately and imposing, yet familiar to Wooyoung, who had grown up in its shadow. He frowned at his mother’s earlier words and hurried to catch up to her side. “Is someone visiting us?”

His mother’s gaze softened as they approached the grand oak doors leading to the throne room. Queen Jung sighed and came to a stop halfway to the throne, turning to face her son. With gentle hands, she straightened his collar and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders. Her fingers lingered as she smoothed back a strand of his hair, her eyes softening. “Yes, we have guests. Now, behave.” She gave his arm a firm pat before moving to her seat.

The giant doors opened with a low creak, revealing the grandeur of the throne room. Tall marble pillars stood like silent sentinels, and the throne, bathed in the afternoon light streaming through stained glass windows, gleamed with opulence. A long crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the dais where the queen’s throne awaited.

San moved ahead to open the doors wide, allowing Wooyoung and his mother to enter. As Wooyoung followed, he couldn’t help but feel a familiar sense of rebellion simmering within him. He despised the endless cycle of formality, the rigid expectations, the way everyone seemed to be watching his every move—waiting for him to act like the perfect prince.

As they neared the thrones, Wooyoung’s playful mood returned. He slouched slightly in his seat, letting out a long sigh. “Formalities, formalities,” he muttered under his breath. “Do they ever get tired of this?”

Before Queen Jung could scold him for his posture, the doors to the throne room opened again. Four figures entered—Yeosang leading the way, his expression calm as always. Behind him, two unfamiliar guests followed closely: an older man, dignified and imposing, and a younger figure—a young apprentice, it seemed, with nervous eyes that darted around the room.

The elder man, who appeared to be some sort of senior advisor, bowed deeply. His apprentice followed suit, though his bow was clumsier. Wooyoung glanced at them, his interest barely sparked until the advisor’s voice filled the hall.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to stand before you,” the advisor said, his voice polished with years of political practice. He gestured to the apprentice beside him. “This is my apprentice, Jayon, who accompanies me today.”

Queen Jung acknowledged them with a nod, though her attention flicked back to her son. “Thank you, Yeosang, for assisting these two gentlemen,” she said, settling into her throne. “Now, please, what is it that brings you here today?”

The elder advisor stepped forward, his voice dropping an octave. “Your Majesty, we come with a matter that concerns the future of the kingdom—an alliance that we believe will strengthen our nation.”

Wooyoung’s fingers tapped idly on the armrest of his throne, half-listening. He had heard this sort of speech a hundred times before. What caught his attention, however, was the advisor’s sudden shift in tone.

“But before we discuss this alliance, there is a pressing issue at hand,” the advisor continued, his eyes briefly darting toward Wooyoung. “The Crown Prince’s behavior.”

Wooyoung tensed, embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. He immediately stiffened, his playful demeanor vanishing. His eyes narrowed as the advisor went on, his voice heavy with disapproval.

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s recent actions—pranks on the palace staff, running through the halls like a child, and, dare I say, using... water guns—have not gone unnoticed. It is unbecoming of a future king.”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched. He was about to speak when his mother, who had been watching the advisor carefully, raised her hand, signaling her son to remain silent. The room grew still as Queen Jung regarded the advisor coolly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Is that so?” Her tone was neutral, but Wooyoung knew his mother well. She was no longer amused.

The advisor, emboldened by the lack of immediate reprimand, continued. “Yes, Your Majesty. It is that the Crown Prince set an example for the people—especially in these delicate times. We believe it is in the kingdom’s best interest that the Crown Prince—”

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Without warning, Queen Jung raised the water gun she still held in her hand and fired a stream of water directly at the advisor’s face. The cold splash hit him squarely on the forehead, soaking his perfectly coiffed hair and dripping down his nose.

The entire room froze.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and delight coursing through him. He fought the urge to burst into laughter as he watched the advisor sputter and stumble back in shock, his face a picture of utter disbelief.

“Y-Your Majesty!” he stammered, his shock visible as his hair dripping, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe, his dignity now hanging by a thread.

The queen leaned back in her throne, the water gun still in her hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “If anyone wishes to question my son’s character,” she began, her voice calm but laced with unmistakable authority, “perhaps they should first learn to handle a little fun.”

Wooyoung bit back a laugh, settling into his seat, a proud grin spreading across his face. “Good shot, Mother.”

The advisor, now red-faced and thoroughly humiliated, muttered a hasty apology. “I... I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty.”

The queen waved him off, her expression amused. “No harm done.” She twirled the water gun in her hand like a royal scepter. “Now, if we’re finished with the lectures, let’s move on to more important matters—like the proposed alliance. Or,” she raised an eyebrow, “do you need a moment to dry off?”

The advisor opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, his apprentice standing stiffly beside him, clearly trying not to laugh. Yeosang, ever the composed figure, remained silent, though Wooyoung swore he saw the faintest twitch of a smile on his usually stoic face.

San, who had been standing quietly by the door the whole time, stepped forward and handed the advisor a pristine handkerchief without a word, his expression as neutral as ever. But Wooyoung caught the faint gleam in his eyes—the same look he had seen earlier.

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face. Not when his mother was on his side.

Headlines filled with images of Queen Jung and her water gun incident flashed across every news outlet, some praising her playful rebellion, others less forgiving of her unconventional display.

“Queen Jung’s Sharp Aim Shuts Down Royal Critics!”

“Water Guns: The Queen’s New Diplomacy Tool!”

Sitting in the back of a sleek black car, Hwang Hyejin scrolled through the headlines, the corners of her lips twitching in mild amusement. Of course, Queen Jung would steal the spotlight in such an unexpected way. As the images of the soaked advisor circulated, Hyejin could practically feel the political waters stirring.

The cityscape gave way to lush greenery as the car approached the towering iron gates of the royal palace. Sunlight reflected off the intricate gold accents of the gate, a visual reminder of the power and legacy housed within those walls. But behind the glittering facade lay the real reason for her presence: secrets, betrayals, and a growing threat aimed squarely at Crown Prince Wooyoung.

Hyejin inhaled deeply, letting the gravity of her mission settle over her. Today was the day it would all begin—the undercover operation to protect the crown prince, and uncover those lurking in the shadows of the royal court. She would pose as a royal advisor, her expertise in national security the perfect cover for her real objective: identify the threat, and eliminate it without ever revealing her true purpose. She couldn’t afford any mistakes.

The sleek car slowed to a halt, the soft hum of the engine fading into silence as Captain Kleo’s gravelly voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his dark eyes catching hers in the rearview mirror. His voice held the weight of experience, his graying hair a testament to the dangerous missions they’d been on together.

“Yes,” Hyejin replied, her voice steady, betraying none of the nerves that churned beneath her calm exterior. She reached for the thick dossier on the seat beside her. It contained every detail she had gathered on the Jung family, the palace staff, the royal guard, and, most importantly, the advisors—specifically Yeosang, who had an unshakable reputation for loyalty. He would be the hardest one to fool, but also the one she had to watch the closest. He was too perfect.

She flipped the folder open, scanning over the profiles one last time. There was something unsettling about how little anyone knew about the real dynamics within the palace. Rumors were abundant, but concrete evidence? That was rare. As much as this mission was about protecting the prince, it was also about learning who, if anyone, could be trusted.

The gates slowly creaked open, revealing the long, cobblestone path lined with manicured gardens leading to the grand palace entrance. The walls of the palace loomed like a fortress, its pristine beauty concealing the danger that lay inside. Hyejin knew that behind the elegance and power of the royal family was a web of lies, deceit, and power struggles—one she was about to step right into.

Captain Kleo pulled the car to a final stop near the front steps of the palace. Hyejin could feel his gaze lingering on her as she adjusted her jacket and slipped the dossier into her briefcase.

“Once you’re in, Hyejin, there’s no going back,” he said, his tone not quite questioning her decision, but reminding her of the stakes.

“I know,” she replied, her expression hardening as she smoothed out her formal attire. “But this is what I do. Find the threat. Protect the prince.”

Kleo nodded curtly. “Just remember, they’ll be watching your every move. Even the ones who don’t know what you’re up to will be curious. The palace is full of eyes and ears.”

Hyejin’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “I’m counting on it.”

As she stepped out of the car, the air around the palace felt different, thicker with expectation. Her shoes clicked against the stone steps as she approached the entrance, each step taking her deeper into the heart of her mission. She’d been in dangerous situations before, but this felt different. This wasn’t a battlefield—this was a game of politics, manipulation, and secrecy. Every move she made had to be precise.

A liveried palace attendant greeted her with a deep bow before gesturing toward the entrance. “Advisor Hwang, we’ve been expecting you. Please, follow me.”

Hyejin’s eyes swept the entrance hall as they stepped inside. The ceilings stretched high above, adorned with intricate frescoes of the kingdom’s history. Marble columns flanked the hall, and large, arched windows let in streams of golden sunlight. It was a place meant to impress, to remind visitors of the kingdom’s grandeur.

But Hyejin wasn’t easily swayed by beauty. She was here for the truth—and to find the cracks hidden behind the polished surfaces.

As the attendant led her deeper into the palace, toward the advisor’s wing, her mind returned to the key players she’d be working alongside. First and foremost, Yeosang, the chief advisor. His reputation was sterling, but that only made him more of an enigma. His loyalty to the Jung family was unquestioned, but Hyejin knew better than to take anyone at face value. Then there was San, Wooyoung’s personal bodyguard, a figure of silent strength and unflinching duty. She’d have to tread carefully around him; any misstep and San’s sharp instincts might lead him to sniff out her true motives.

They reached a set of large double doors, and the attendant paused. “The advisors are gathered for a security briefing, as per your request,” he said with a slight bow. “Shall I announce you?”

Hyejin took a breath. Her mask of calm authority slipped into place, hiding the storm of thoughts beneath. “No need,” she replied coolly. “I’ll make my own introduction.”

The doors swung open, revealing a large room filled with key members of the royal court, each dressed in formal attire. At the head of the table sat Yeosang, his expression calm but focused, his eyes meeting hers the moment she entered. Around the table, other advisors murmured, exchanging glances as she strode in.

All eyes were on her now, and Hyejin welcomed it, flashing them all a formal smile as you bowed your head, eyeing each of the advisors. As your head rises up, your hands clasp in front of you, “Gentlemen, greetings. I’m Hwang Hyejin.” 

The real game had begun.

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairytale" || choi san || series || thirteenth part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

back to masterlist | chapter 14

As the fire engulfed you, the present dissolved away. When the light faded, you found yourself standing amidst ancient stone walls, adorned with torches flickering against tapestries depicting dragons and flames. You blinked, questionably on your newfound surroundings. One moment you were with Jongho, using himself to shield you from the flames of the dragon.

And now, you were somewhere else entirely. Although the walls and tapestries seemed eerily familiar, the air was different—thick with the scent of smoke and incense. Faint murmurs of voices reached your ears, mingling with the distant clang of metal and the low hum of tension. Ahead, through a great hall dimly lit by torches, you saw a gathering of courtiers and warriors, all wearing expressions of tense anticipation. Your brows furrowed as curiosity took hold, and you stepped cautiously out of the shadows.

“Silence!”

The booming voice made you jump, scrambling back against the stone wall. Heart pounding, you peeked around the corner. There were people, some clad in torn and mud-streaked garments, others in dented armor. All bore the marks of war—burnt cloth, dirtied faces, desperation in their eyes. This was no Choi palace you recognized. It was something far older, far less grand—a crumbling seat of power held together by fear.

“King Choi! Please, these awful creatures are killing our people!” one man shouted, his plea joined by murmurs of agreement from the gathered crowd.

And there, standing tall and imperious at the center of it all, was the man who answered them. His armor gleamed gold, his long wine-red cape sweeping the floor, and atop his head sat a crown. This man was unmistakably San’s great-grandfather. His features bore a striking resemblance to San's, though hardened with arrogance and a cruel glint in his eyes.

It hit you then—you were witnessing the past, the origin of the curse that haunted the Choi bloodline and the princes who bore its weight.

“Bring it forth!” the great-grandfather commanded, his voice sharp and unyielding.

The crowd parted as soldiers entered, dragging something behind them. Your breath caught when you saw it—a massive dragon, its scales shimmering faintly despite the soot and grime marring its body. Chains wrapped around its limbs and wings, holding it bound, yet it still thrashed and roared, defiant even in its captivity.

Your heart clenched as you saw the pain in the creature’s eyes. It was wounded, its movements sluggish, but its spirit unbroken. It tried to snap at its captors, the fire in its belly threatening to ignite despite its weakened state.

“This,” King Choi proclaimed with a wicked grin, “is the first flying dragon! A gift from the heavens and Goddess themselves, now brought low by my hand. With it, I shall secure my dominion over these lands. None will dare challenge the might of the Choi Kingdom!”

The crowd cheered, but you recoiled in horror. The dragon wasn’t a gift—it was a creature of Brigid’s creation, a being meant to protect, not destroy.

And then he arrived.

A man burst into the hall, his presence commanding silence even before he spoke. He was unarmed but bore the aura of a warrior. His long hair was tied back, his fiery gaze fixed on King Choi. It was Brigid’s lover—the true king of this land.

The king’s presence was commanding, his gaze piercing. He was a force, radiating a calm yet indomitable strength. Yet there was a tenderness to him, a gentleness that seemed to connect him to something beyond the mortal realm. He was no ordinary king; he was a guardian, chosen to rule with Brigid by his side.

In that instant, you understood why King Choi hated him. Power could only be wielded through fear or respect, and the true king had earned the people’s respect effortlessly. King Choi had no such love from his people—only control through fear. San’s great-grandfather looked upon the true king with burning envy, and you could almost feel the dark intent simmering within him.

“You have gone too far, Choi!” he roared, stepping forward. “This creature was born to guard and nurture the balance, not to be a tool for your tyranny. Release it!”

King Choi scoffed. “You dare challenge my rule, dragon tamer? You who hide behind the shadow of gods?”

“I challenge you not as a dragon tamer but as the rightful ruler of this land,” Brigid’s lover declared. “Your greed and false leadership end today!”

The two men clashed with a ferocity that left the hall trembling. You watched, frozen, as the battle raged. The dragon, sensing an ally in Brigid’s lover, thrashed harder against its chains, its roars echoing through the hall.

Then suddenly the scene shifted, you panic as you thought you were being brought back but, you saw a shadowed figure slip through the halls toward a chamber. You were confused once again, your feet glued to the ground but you knew you had to follow what it was since the scene changed and you had to be a blind witness to know the truth. As you rushed towards the chamber, the door was left ajar.

You feel your face losing its color as you come to realize what will happen. It was an ambush. A dagger gleamed in the dim light as the figure struck swiftly, silencing the king before he could even draw breath. You watched in horror as the true king— Jeoyoung, his blood pooling like liquid fire on his sheets. He whispered a name—a name that seemed to ripple across the walls, carried by an unseen wind.

Moments later, Brigid herself appeared, drawn by the call of her beloved. Her fiery hair was like a storm, her expression a mix of anguish and fury as she saw the lifeless body of the man she cherished. Her cries of grief turned to roars that shook the foundations of the palace, her fury resonating through every stone. 

San’s great-grandfather emerged from the shadows, his face twisted into a smug grin. “Your power was wasted on him, Goddess,” he sneered. “This kingdom belongs to the strong, not to those blinded by love.” 

But Brigid was undeterred. Her fiery gaze met his with terrifying resolve. “You, scavenger, have no idea of the powers you’ve unleashed,” she hissed, her voice dripping with wrath. “You seek a kingdom, but you have gained only a curse.”

Raising her arms, Brigid summoned the winds, igniting them with a fire that burned with the brilliance of a thousand suns. Flames crackled and burst around her, yet the King Choi barely flinched, too intoxicated by his perceived victory. But Brigid’s rage was just beginning. 

“You have stolen, deceived, and murdered. For this, you and your bloodline shall pay,” she intoned, her voice echoing like thunder. “From this day forth, every descendant of yours will be hunted by the dragons you so lustfully sought. They shall know neither peace nor prosperity, for they shall be pursued by the very fire that consumed your greed.”

The sky darkened, and through the palace windows, you saw shapes gathering—pseudodragons evolving, growing larger and more fearsome under Brigid’s power, as they circled over the palace in ominous spirals. King Choi watched, his expression shifting from smugness to terror as he realized he could no longer control what he had stolen.

“Goodbye, King Choi.” The place changed into somewhere open but few trees surrounded them. As Brigid cradled Jeoyoung’s trembling body in her arms, the chamber was steeped in an overwhelming silence. Only the faint crackle of distant flames and her quiet, agonized sobs filled the air. Jeoyoung’s once vibrant sapphire eyes were dimming, his chest rising and falling with the shallow breaths of a man at death's door. 

Her hands, glowing faintly with fiery embers, trembled as they hovered over his wounds. She had tried everything—every ounce of her divine power—but no matter how fiercely she willed it, the spark of life in him was slipping away. Her curse, uttered in a rage so potent it shook the very foundation of the Choi Kingdom, still lingered in the air like an unrelenting storm cloud.

"My sapphire love, please..." Jeoyoung’s voice was barely above a whisper, each word soaked in agony yet steady with conviction. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips, staining his once-pristine robes. "Do not punish the generations to come for the sins of one king."

Brigid’s tears streamed freely, sizzling against her fiery cheeks. Her hands cupped his face, her voice breaking as she murmured, “Shh, my love, please don’t speak. Save your strength.”

Jeoyoung’s trembling hand reached for hers, his fingers icy compared to her eternal warmth. He guided her gaze to his. Even as death tightened its grip, his sapphire eyes still held the tenderness of a man deeply in love. "Look at me..." His breath hitched, his voice fragile yet determined.

Brigid sobbed harder, leaning into his touch as though willing her warmth to stave off the inevitable.

"Remove the curse," he pleaded, his thumb brushing faintly across her cheek.

Her entire being shattered at those words. She shook her head, her fiery locks falling over her face. "I can't..." she whispered, her voice broken, her heart fracturing under the weight of her own actions. "What has been done, is done."

Jeoyoung's lips quirked into a faint, bloodied smile. “Of course you can...” His words were strained, but his affection shone through even in his final moments. "Tomorrow will come... and kindness will still live in your heart. The wind will always find its way to the right direction."

The air around them seemed to still, as if the world itself held its breath in mourning. Jeoyoung’s final gaze never wavered, even as his body grew colder. His voice faltered, a mere whisper in the storm of her grief. "The fire within you... will always ignite the passion of love."

And with those words, his hand fell limp. His sapphire eyes dulled, staring into eternity. Brigid’s anguished scream pierced the heavens as her divine essence flared with the intensity of a thousand suns.

The searing light of the past dissolved into the chaotic present. The weight of what you had just witnessed crushed your chest, leaving you breathless. Your vision adjusted as the sounds of the present—roaring flames and distant shouts—came rushing back.

"Jongho!" you gasped, stumbling forward. He lay on the ground, his arm burnt and the remnants of his clothes reduced to charred fabric. His breaths were shallow, and his face contorted in pain.

Panic surged through you as you dropped to his side. The memory of Jeoyoung’s parting words echoed in your mind, a chilling reminder of the curse’s origin. You pressed your trembling hands against Jongho’s uninjured shoulder, the urgency of the moment pulling you from the sorrow of the past.

"Stay with me, Jongho," you whispered, your voice cracking. Tears blurred your vision, but your determination burned brighter. Jongho looks at you, “You saw it?” Your eyebrows furrowed, “W-what?” “The dream … King Jeoyoung. The lover of Brigid." Your eyes widen, with a shaking breath, you spoke, “You—”

Jongho chuckles as he looks at you then to the raging dragon in front of both of you, “Seems like we aren’t stuck in this fairytale.” The moment you first found yourself inside this story, it felt surreal—a tapestry woven with threads of wonder and confusion. At first, it was as though you were an outsider peering into a living narrative. The curse that plagued the Choi lineage was merely a tale, and the role you were thrust into felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else.  

But as the story unfolded, piece by piece, the weight of your role became undeniable. You weren’t just a visitor or a bystander. You were the key. The burden of lifting the curse, unraveling its origins, and shouldering the pain of generations began to press heavily upon you. It wasn’t just about San or the dragons or even Brigid—it was about you.  

The realization struck like lightning the moment you uncovered the truth. Your lineage wasn’t just an ordinary bloodline. The fire coursing through your veins wasn’t a coincidence. Your ancestor was none other than the Goddess of Fire herself, Brigid. The fury that birthed the curse, the anguish that burned through time—it was your legacy.  

And now, bestowed with the power of the true king, Jeoyoung, you understood what needed to be done. His final words echoed in your heart, resonating with a meaning far deeper than you could have anticipated.  

"Tomorrow will come and kindness will still live in your heart. The wind will always find its way to the right direction. The fire within you will always ignite the passion of love."

The key was not some ancient relic or arcane spell. It was the very essence of what had been stripped away from Brigid when her heart broke: Kindness, Hope, the Rightful Path, and, finally, Love. These elements, torn from her soul, needed to be restored. They weren’t just concepts—they were the fragments of Brigid’s heart, left scattered across the ages.  

Now, you were no longer just a participant in this tale. You were *one with the story.* The curse wasn’t merely a mystery to solve—it was a part of your destiny, tied intrinsically to your very being. The path forward was clear, but its weight threatened to crush you.  

As you stood amidst the chaos of the present, the oppressive heat of the dragon’s breath against your skin, the enormity of it all threatened to overwhelm you. Looking up, your eyes met the piercing glare of the dragon. Its gaze was fierce, primal, and filled with an ancient rage that sent shivers down your spine.  

You froze, the intensity of its eyes locking you in place. It was a glare you recognized, one that clawed deep into your soul. It brought you back to that moment with San in the library, the way his eyes had burned with something you couldn’t quite place—something raw, untamed, and undeniably powerful.  

But this was different. This dragon wasn’t just a creature; it was a manifestation of Brigid’s wrath, her heartbreak given form. Its very existence was a reminder of the curse that had plagued the Choi line for generations.  

Your heart raced as memories flooded back—Jeoyoung’s bloodied smile, Brigid’s anguished sobs, and the haunting words of the curse. You had witnessed it all. You weren’t just here to observe; you were here to change the ending.  

Clenching your fists, you forced yourself to stand firm under the dragon’s gaze. The weight of the curse bore down on you, but within you burned the fire of your ancestor. You were Brigid’s blood, a spark of her divine flame, and now you carried the power of the true king.  

“The elements…” you whispered to yourself, the realization settling over you like a rising dawn. Kindness, Hope, the Rightful Path, and Love. These weren’t just words—they were the very essence of what Brigid had lost and what you needed to restore.  

Summoning every ounce of courage, you took a step forward, meeting the dragon’s fiery glare head-on. “I understand now,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “This isn’t just about breaking a curse. It’s about healing what’s been broken. It’s about restoring balance to the fire, the wind, the very essence of this kingdom.”  

The dragon’s roar echoed in response, shaking the ground beneath your feet. But this time, you didn’t flinch. You were no longer just a character in this story. You were its heart, its fire, and its hope. 

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie . @ffenjoyerdazme

[xuchiya]

"Now." || jeong yunho || ice on my teeth (+18 mafia) ||

| genre: mafia! yunho x partner! reader | mentions: cursing. creampie. wall fuck. unprotected (tap it up!)

"If I don't find your panties in my hand this instant, I'll rip it myself." Yunho murmurs behind you. Your body flaring up at his choice of words. Your fingers shake slightly as you reach underneath your sapphire short dress as you subtly pull down your panties, shimmering it all the way down to your ankle clamp heels. You bent to pick it up and you immediately felt the air hitting your bare pussy, slight of your essence dripping out.

As you stood straight, you were suddenly approached by one of the guests of the party and conversed with Yunho. Your breath hitch as you crumple the piece of cloth in your palm. You looked away as you felt Yunho's eyes lingering at you each time you made eye contact as he continued the conversation with the man.

"Who is this fine young lady, detective Jeong?" A scruffy old yet veteran mafia man spoke, his eyes glancing at your figure. You flash him a simple smile before you turn to Yunho, who's eyes glance at you then back to the man.

"May I introduce to you …” His hand sticks out, and you are both confused about what he is intending to do but it strikes in your head what it was and your eyes widen. You look from his hand then up to his eyes to see him with a glint of playfulness in his eyes, a small smirk on the corner of his lips. Trembling, you hand him your panties.

“ …my wife. She has been my partner for 6 years now.” Transacting in front of another mafia leader, you were sure embarrassed but what made you more embarrassed is the way he placed it near his nose and took a sniff before placing it in the back of his slacks. Your ears burned from his action and turned away.

"Such a sly being, well if you both are planning to do something ... Upstairs is available." Your eyes widen and your heart thumps inside your chest. You let out a small squeak when you felt a warm hand that circled around your waist.

"Thank you, Doc." Yunho nods his head before gripping your waist in his hand as he turns you both around towards the said upstairs. You were more than shocked to realize that he just revealed his plans.

….

Your eyes rolled back as your body jerked forwards and back to his body as his hands were tightly gripping your hips, its flesh almost squeezing in his palms as he pulls you back to his throbbing cock. Your hands were flat against the wall, head thrown back as he ram himself in your dripping cunt.

“You were such a good girl yet so nasty. Giving your panties in front of Doc? Fuck~ that turns me on.” Yunho was so out of his mind when your scent hit his nose when he brought in your panties close to his nose. You were, also, so fuck out of your mind that you barely registered the words he said except for “good girl” and it already had you squirming, moaning so loudly. 

Being half naked, Yunho took from his back pocket your panties and stuffed them in your mouth, “Quiet now, my dear wife. I want it all to myself.” He leans in, his hands replace themselves from your hips towards your breast. They were still confined by your dress, his fingers curled around them and yanked them down making your tits jiggle, the air of the room made your nipples harden.

“Fuck hubby~” Your nickname made him more riled up as he quickens his pace, his breath ragged. He leans closer to you, his chest on your back, his hands making their way to your hanging tits and his breath close to your ears, “Yeah I’m your hubby… my cute little wife.”

You groan in pleasure, being muffled by the panties in your mouth, as your cunt squeezes him unintentionally due to his praise. Your sudden squeeze made Yunho let out a broken moan as he released inside you. His cum painted your walls white, your orgasm soon reaches as his tip nudges your cervix multiples times as he rides his orgasm.

You both stayed in the same position before he left a kiss on the side of your neck before he pulled out. Your thighs, weak and wobbly, made you lose balance but Yunho was quick enough to grab you and pull you up. His hand took the hem of your dress and pulled it down, the front of your dress up to cover your tits— not before giving them a few hickeys.

When he was done organising you, he carried you and laid you down on the spare bed. He lets you rest as he zips up his zipper after placing his cock inside his boxers. He moves around to grab a towel and goes to the bathroom, when he returns, he kneels at the end of your bed as he grab your knees and pulls your leg apart as he wipes it clean.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your hand wiping his hair out of his forehead, a look of affection in your eyes, “Such a gentleman hubby I have.” 

He looks up, his hands continue wiping your area, a smirk on his lips, winking at you, “Anything for my sweet wifey.”

[xuchiya]

ARE YOU AN ATINY?

Reblog if you stan ateez x

Are ateez your destiny?

[xuchiya]

Yunho ✧ "Ice On My Teeth" MV

[xuchiya]

i am giggling so bad, it's concerning

[xuchiya]

better one ...

the subtle smirk ... omfg