#kdiner
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TBZ: When They Make Love
When they make love: hyung line
AFAB x Sangyeon / Jacob / Younghoon / Hyunjae
Contains: unprotected sex, fluffy smut, established relationship, minor angst, teeny bit of spanking courtesy of Hyunjae | AU: domestic, romance, slice-of-life | w.c. 3k+
A/N: not back, but I couldn't sleep and ended up thinking about this aha. Sorry to my friends in my dms, I'm kinda coming back online so I promise to reply soon. But I'm going to sleep after posting this. I have the other members planned - let me know if you would like a 'when they f**k' version of this or something too :) enjoy ♡
Sangyeon
→during those moments where he really thinks 'I'm so in love'
→loves that you go above and beyond for him as much as he does you, but also loves the little things
→like how you wake up ten minutes before his alarm to put the hot water on for him before he woke up to shower
Or how you put hot packs in his pockets knowing the weather would be cold that day, or the vitamin packs in his bags knowing he would be on his feet for long hours and would need a pick me up
→and that "I'm so in love" moment comes once more, at a seemingly random time. It'ss Sangyeon’s turn to cook and though you asked multiple times if he wanted help, he plopped you down on the counter and told you your only job was to sit and watch. But when he cuts his finger you're so sweet and concerned, treating him like he cut his whole finger off when in fact it was only a minor surface cut, that the sappy smile automatically stretches slowly on his face
→you keep asking if he was sure he was okay with a pout when you held his hand under the running water and patted his finger dry before wrapping a plaster around it. And he could only chuckle and gather you in a comforting hug, looking upon your face with a warm smile as he promises between kisses that he's more than fine after his baby made him all better.
→and those little kisses grew into more heated kisses
→kisses that lead to him lifting you back up onto the counter
→he can't get enough of your lips, devouring you with a simple kiss. He drinks k your moans, swallowing them right down his throat as he kisses you deep and wanton, hands roaming your back and squeezing your hips.
Sangyeon starts mouthing at your neck, bringing your hips closer to the edge of the counter to grind into you when he breaks the kiss to drag your top off. He started to leave slow wet kisses down the slope of your neck while his fingers moved to unhook your bra and pull it down your arms. Those lips trail to your exposed chest to suck on your nipples, removing your panties to grind against you bare when his lips come back to yours; always the need to be close and have his hands gliding your back, using his clothed length to rub your clit until you fall apart just like that, your legs wrapping tight around him, arms clinging as you shudder in pleasure.
"Need more." You moan, breathing heavily against his lips, staring into his eyes.
Lips slotting against yours, his tongue caresses yours as he meticulously unbuttons his jeans and drags the zipper down. Pulling his cock out, he holds onto his hard length and drags the bulbous tip down your slit to your entrance. With his eyes on you, lips hovering over your mouth, he pushes inches in, only to pull out and slide along your slit again. Teasing you, making you gasp against his lips, he does it all over again. Pushing in deeper, giving you a few more meaty inches before pulling out and grinding against your slit. Repeatedly grinding and pushing in and pulling out, over and over until he's finally all the way deep inside, pelvis flush against you. He holds your hips in place with a tight grip. Your legs quiver and tighten around him as your insides adjust to the feeling of being full, of him reaching so deep and stretching you out. He kisses you breathless when he starts to move, delivering deep pointed thrusts that turn your insides into jelly until you fall apart together holding onto each other for dear life.
Jacob
→when the night feels like magic with you
→Jacob is the kind of partner that loves spending time with you and making memories
→and he loves it when he gets the chance to spoil you and though he doesn't believe you need money to pamper someone, he does love having the chance to treat you to the finer things in life — especially when he knows how much you appreciate it and the aching grin you have on your face when he does
→on this day, Jacob took you out to get your hair and nails done. He bought you a dress he thought you'd love and he was right. You looked stunning. And he kept telling you so all the way to dinner and even during.
→and when you both get home, with warm smiles, you both knew what was happening next and head straight for the bedroom, your warm hand leading the way
→it was full of giggles and smiles when you both fell onto the bed with your lips on one another.
You kiss for a long while, the both of you loving to take your time, with your fingers in his hair until he moves between your legs and they wrap around him. His hands strok up and down your thighs without the slow kisses stopping until he rolls onto his back, smiling as he lets you grind onto him.
The pressure of your core on his hardness has you sighing, head falling back as you roll your hips steadily, feeling pleasure course through you.
Jacob wants more though.
He pulls you down, chest to chest so he could reach below your dress and hook his fingers into your underwear and pull them down over the curve of your ass. You help to take them off the rest of the way, resettling on his crotch, but yelp in surprise when instead Jacobs strong hands slide under your thighs and use his hold to drag you up until you are hovering over his face.
Your eyes look down to meet his and you know what he wants. With a moan you start to ride his face. His fingers dig into the swell of your ass, encouraging your movements as his tongue slips between your folds and you feel his nose pressing against your pussy. His lips rub against you and you can't stop moaning for him, feeling the warmth of his tongue stroking you to orgasm with each rock of your hips.
As you cum for him, shaking over his face, he rockets forward until you land on your back again. Dazed, you don't register Jacob pulling himself from his slacks, not until he pushes into you. Gasping harshly, your manicured nails grip his biceps, nearly tearing through the smart white shirt he has on.
Smiling down at you, he moves to pull your breasts from your dress and thumb your nipples. He didn't want to take your dress off, adoring the way you looked and he told you so. "You look so beautiful baby." He praises you when he starts to rub your clit, grinding himself deep inside, stroking your walls until you cum so prettily for him again.
Younghoon
→at those moments where you're both feeling vulnerable
→Younghoon is in touch with his feelings and isn't afraid to show his emotional side with you and you love that about him. He makes you feel safe and that you can show your own vulnerability to him. There's trust and respect and the fact that he can be both your rock and your baby has you head over heels for him
→but that's not to say your relationship is perfect and that arguments don't happen. It's bound to happen with anyone and sometimes you both forget that as a couple your biggest strength is communication
→during the argument, that's clearly missing. But when the heat dies down and you finally talk it out, there's relief and that sensitivity you allow for one another. No more defences, you're back in sync and feeling more in love that you could be open and be heard despite both of your pride.
→that ends up with you on his lap on the sofa. At first, he's just holding you for a long while, like you're his lifeline. Your face buried in his neck and your fingers rubbing against his scalp.
→and then it's more. His lips leave a trail of little kisses up and down the side of your neck. Eventually stopping at a spot to suck on. You don't say anything, but your heart rate accelerates and you press against him as if you could get any closer, hiding your face against him.
Eventually he pulls your hoody off so he can kiss across your bare chest. The feeling of his lips dragging and mouthing at you has you whimpering in need, clinging to his broad shoulders in anticipation.
And then you're on your back so he can kiss down your whole body until he's between your legs. Using his tongue as an apology, you writhe and moan, feeling his expert tongue circle your clit. He licks delicately, changing his rhythm between prodding and poking to swirling around and suckling the nerve, until your hips start to buck and your moans become broken and you cum for him.
Kissing his way back up, he crowds over you when he brings his mouth to yours to whisper "I love you and I'm sorry" against your lips as he starts to slowly finger you open.
You gasp out "I know I know" your back arching at the feel of his slender fingers curling inside you, making you come undone before slumping.
You tell him you love him too as you reach down to stroke him, kissing him again. You push on his chest until he backs up and sits down so you can use your mouth this time. He sounds so pretty as you grip his length and drag your tongue up him. The feel of his veins bumping over your muscle has you clenching in anticipation to feel your insides pressing against them, making you eager to suck on the head of his cock and it's not long before straddling him again.
Sinking down slowly, you both groan at the feeling of being so fully connected. Softly moaning, you kiss him between heavy breaths as you ride him slow and steady. Fingers in his hair, Younghoon hugs you, chest to chest, staring at you with dark lustful eyes, not wanting to look away and miss the look in your eyes when you cum all over him.
Hyunjae
→when he's in his head
→Hyunjae knows he's not perfect — a realisation he hates being aware of. But that is why he always strives to be the best he can be
→he regrets that it wasn't exactly like that with you. He regrets the many downs it took to have your relationship as strong and secure as it is now. He is hopelessly in love with you, but constantly wishes that he could change things of the past even though you try to reassure him that the journey is what made you both so strong and unbreakable
→and he knows you're right and he loves that you're so burrowed in his heart that your tender words and sweet encouragement can make him feel better in an instant
→that doesn't stop the fact that he still dwells on it from time to time
→it's on his mind when you're both cuddling in bed.
It started with sweet kisses as you both lay on your sides. Gathered in his arms, your hands rested over his chest as the kisses slowly deepened until you were practically inhaling one another.
His hands start running up and down your back as you clutch his shirt, warm palms sensually gliding, making you want to be closer as you clutch onto his shirt.
Hyunjae shifts, rolling until he's above you, never parting his lips from yours. They dance slow and deep and sensual over your lips, making your senses fog up, as his hands run up your sides to grope your breasts. When you whimper into his mouth, it doesn't take long for it to escalate beyond kisses.
Never not touching you, he moulds your body beneath his hands until he has a hand down your panties and he can swallow the moans you make for him when he starts to rub your clit. You get so wet for him, allowing his fingers to press circles into you that much more fluidly until you cum.
The thing about Hyunjae though, is that he can never stop at one whether he's making love to you or fucking you. He overstimulated you with his fingers. Your clit swells and your moans turn into broken cries as he rubs you into another orgasm. And then again. And once more, until tears bead your eyes.
"Do you remember the first time I touched you?" He asks as he watches your eyes roll yet again when he has you coming undone.
You just about find the sanity to croak out a "yes." The pads of his fingers slow, applying less pressure, fingers teasing circles that feel almost ticklish. "Y-you were so mean and rough b-but I loved it."
He hums, moving down to brush your lips together before resting his forehead against yours. He starts to slide his fingers inside, moving slow and deep as he watches the desperation grow in your eyes and your gaping mouth release shaky breaths. "I always regretted that." He whispers, just for your ears despite being alone. "I knew from the moment I touched you that you were mine… even if you didn't wanna admit it." Your hips shift and you moan out when he rubs a particular spot, feeding his fingers into you like a slow wave. "I wish I wasn't impatient. That I took my time. Took my time to make you cum as many times for me as I could." The depth of his eyes drown you as he says each word without looking away from you. Whispering, "before filling you up" the words trigger the wave to crash through you, leaving your breath trapped and body jerking.
Shuddering beneath him, Hyunjae keeps his fingers sunken in your warmth, as his warm breath caresses your skin with each lingering kiss he paves down your neck to your chest. His tongue strokes at your nipple in time to languid movements of his fingers. His palm presses on your clit, the pads of his fingers pressing up against the roof of your walls when he starts to suckle your nipple, making you cum for him all over again, so fast.
You're beyond dizzy, a constant buzz beneath your skin, unable to stop twitching. So sensitive, the faint and careful kisses he leaves down your body feel like he's touching a thousand pleasure nerves at once. Especially when he gets between your legs. His curls tangle between your fingers twisting into them and you pull when he nods his tongue up and down against your clit. The tips of his fingers flicking back and forth inside you have your insides twisting tight. Tears spring to your eyes as the gentleness of his tongue disappears when he sucks on your clit, pressing his face against your folds until you release, your hips rocking against him..
You're fighting for breath, panting with blurry vision when he maps little kisses from one hip to the other, up the plane of your stomach and around your chest until finally reaching your face. He cups your cheeks, thumbs brushing across your tear stained skin. He leans down to kiss each of your eyelids, your weak arms lifting to hug his defined back, rubbing along his skin as you seek comfort from the overwhelming pleasure he's drowning you in.
Sliding his arm under your back, Hyunjae rolls until you're both on your side and he can hold you close. He brings your thigh over his waist and starts caressing your skin, moving to gently squeeze and rub your ass. His kisses ground you again, but you whine when you feel his hand run down your ass and curve between your legs, sliding his fingers back inside. Clawing at his chest, he holds you firmly against him when he starts to drag his fingers in and out. You can't even focus on his lips when his fingers are making you so hot you feel like you're burning. So sensitive, your body starts jerking, reacting to the onslaught by trying to pull your thigh back. The move makes his fingers slip from you and on instinct, Hyunjae's hand smacks down on your asscheek in quick succession.
You yelp, "OW" shaking as the sting shoots right to your clit and realising his actions, he softens and rubs your skin, muttering a sorry against your lips.
"Be a good angel and don't pull away from me again." He softly tells you. But it was so hard not to. Especially when he starts moving his fingers more intensely when they slipped back inside, making you twitch and moan and whine against him, only able to claw at his shirt, gripping it for some type of stability as he makes you orgasm for— you've lost count of how many times at this point.
He keeps you just like that, foreheads resting together and cuddling you close. Fingers massage into your hair while he takes hold of his cock and guides it to your entrance. He strokes himself up and down making your muscles spasm and drawing gasps from you. Your teary eyes look into his when he starts to push inside, his mouth swallowing the overwhelmed rasp you let out when he fills you completely.
Your mind and body hyperfocus on his long length reaching so deeply inside you. His hips are fluid and sweet one moment, when they drag back and forth slowly and hitting sharp and deep the next, making you even more dizzy and wet. The shudders are never ending, spasming over his cock like you're in a never ending orgasm. Legs uncontrollably shaky, you don't even know what kind of noises you make, or if you're even breathing properly, you can barely focus on his lips on yours; you only feel the fullness of him and so, so gone.
And by the time he cums inside you, you're jelly in his arms. He holds you and the praise he whispers is soundless to you. But you can feel the 'I love you' when he whispers it against the skin of your cheek. You can feel it when he holds you so safe and secure like that.
#kwritersworldnet#deobiwritersnet#kdiner#the boyz smut#hyunjae smut#sangyeon smut#younghoon smut#jacob smut#jacob bae smut#i just realised smth v annoying about my header kms 😭😭😭
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the rest i can do without
pairing → jeon wonwoo x reader
word count → 566
genre → fluff !! slice of life maybe
↳ tags: wonu best bf, established relationship because i love it <3, wonu is leaving for tour, late night visit!!!, poor svt manager a little bit, some banter, hand holding, gentle words, he is very special to me
song inspo → somebody else by the 1975
warnings → none! like a single swear i think maybe
a/n → HELLO I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT ULTING WONU AND THIS IS WHAT CAME OF IT. still not sure whats happening. took a break from schoolwork to write this thx for being patient everyone
You’re half expecting the knock on your door.
Half, because it still makes you jump when you hear it. And because you didn’t actually think Wonwoo would try to come over. But you know it’s him, so you don’t bother looking through the peephole like you always do.
“You’re a little crazy,” you say when you open the door. Wonwoo’s eyes light up, and it makes you warm, but he waits for you to invite him in to actually step inside. You help him with his jacket – the beginning of spring still leaves a chill in the night air – and he shrugs. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Eight,” he replies. You furrow your brows.
“In the morning?”
“Yeah.”
He laughs at your exasperation, like it isn’t already past midnight and he should be resting. A ten hour flight is exhausting. His fingers tangle with yours, and in the dim light of your hallway it feels like the two of you are high schoolers again, barely keeping your relationship hidden with linked pinkies and soft smiles. “It’s fine, I can sleep on the plane.”
You shake your head at him, but press closer until you can reach for his other hand, playing with his fingers in between the two of you. “How did you even get here so late?”
“Manager drove me,” is what he says. You salute Seventeen’s manager in your mind.
“I hope he gets a raise, having to deal with all of you pulling shit like this,” you respond. Wonwoo purses his lips in that smile he always does, nodding along with an I hope so too.
Despite your teasing, you’re happy he’s here. When he first mentioned the tour to you the both of you expected busy schedules, but not packed. You figured there would be at least a couple days where you could see each other before he left, but as the weeks kept on, it became increasingly clear that it wasn’t going to happen. You just got a new promotion, and with it, new responsibility; and between all the practicing and new album promotions, Wonwoo hasn’t been able to break away either.
But a couple hours before he leaves for two months will have to do for now. You miss him already, when he’s standing right in front of you. You think he can tell, because he brushes the back of his hand against your cheek to get your attention. “Don’t overthink too much,” Wonwoo says. “We’ve gotten through it before.”
And it’s true, you have. You’re not really worried about that, though. You’re already settling into your promotion, and tour serves as a sort-of break for him, too. It’s just…
“I’m gonna miss you,” you murmur, holding his hand against your face. His brows furrow. “More than usual, I think. That’s all.”
Half a second of silence goes by before Wonwoo is kissing you once, sweetly hard, and you giggle onto his lips. His smile matches yours.
“I’ll call you every night, okay?” He tells you. “FaceTime. Whatever you want. These next couple months are gonna fly by, and I’ll be back before either of us know it.”
You think your heart starts to pound like it did when you first saw him, nearly a decade ago, an immediate reaction to all things Wonwoo. You nod, kiss him again, slower, softer. “‘Kay,” you say. “I’m holding you to it.”
#caratwritersclub#kdiner#i miss him gusy i like him so much#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt imagine#seventeen imagine#svt wonwoo x reader#seventeen wonwoo x reader#svt wonwoo imagine#seventeen wonwoo imagine#jeon wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo imagine#kpop x reader#reader insert#kpop imagines
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A Song of Ice and Fire
❝ they say the crimson king is as ruthless as the freezing winters of your land...❞
𓏲 PAIRING. prince!minho x princess!reader (ft. guard!jisung x reader)
𓏲 GENRE. fluff, angst; royalty!au, fire-bender!minho & ice-bender!reader, historical drama, action, romance, love triangle/forbidden romance, arranged marriage!au, subzero!au
𓏲 WORD COUNT. 35k
𓏲 WARNINGS. language, mild violence, minho is a jerk at first, cliche asf, mildly suggestive, a brief allusion to assault (but it's stopped before anything happens), blood, injuries and tending to them (i am not a doctor), food, mentions of war and famines, poison, mentions of death, reader gets carried around and has hair that can be put in a ponytail, petnames, includes the rest of skz as various people (TV-14)
𓏲 SUMMARY. when you agreed to marry the prince of the crimson clan in order to sign a peace treaty, it feels like your entire life is crumbling down in front of your eyes. forced to move to another kingdom, you're afraid of being shackled in a loveless marriage. minho's reputation precedes him, and the stories you've heard aren't exactly great. yet the seemingly perfect kingdom has many secrets, along with a dark history that goes beyond anything you would've imagined...
𓏲 A/N. ot related to GoT at all!! just liked the title lol. inspired by the webtoon subZero. this is just a flaming pile of garbage lmfao - i started this fic back in july but i only got like 1k before i gave up. then, i recently picked this story back up since i didn't want to give up on it. a lot of effort went into this, but i recognize that this story isn't perfect. i came to a realization of how much i despise my writing style while i was writing this :<. i'm a tad bit afraid that only like two people will read lol but oh well, we shall see :) on a lighter note, i really hope you enjoy and please don't forget to lmk your thoughts as i'll literally jump with joy :> side note: the reader comes from the azure clan but the royal guard is caled the cerulean guard.
𓏲 SPECIAL THANKS TO. @luvseos for beta reading the prologue-ish part, tysm!! (also, i'm so so sorry i am not able to tag you so i assume you deactivated :( ) @hyuukais and @kurosism for going over the first part of the fic! thank you guys a lot and i really appreciate all of your nice comments and suggestions <3 big thanks to @sw1mmingfoolz for reading through the first part! thank you for all your sweet comments :> and @celestialgyu for going through the entirety of this. I was nearly gonna start crying in the dms tysm <3
@seung-scrittore oh my god leo you are a savior for going through this entire monster!! thank you! i can't stress it enough how grateful i am <33 i really appreciate it :< also sorry for having to correct shitty typos and my malfunctioning grammar lmfao
@chaninfused furat thank you for listening to my rambles as i was losing it on main lol. it was really nice and helpful talking to you, especially as your (self proclaimed) no 1 stan lol. also shout out to your arab prince! minho cause i'm still on the agenda and i can't deny i thought of him while writing this. go read danse macabre for some quality prince!minho (and great plot)
@choihaiyun for the amazing banner idea/creation <3
MASTERLIST
The night was coated in inky darkness, thunder rumbling outside your window.
It was a cold winter night, heavy snow coating your entire kingdom like a blanket. Loud arguments echoed through the room, various voices from both sides unable to reach an agreement.
You weren't surprised—it was a tough decision to make on your part, or rather, on your uncle's part. The men from the Crimson clan appeared in your kingdom a few days ago with an unexpected offer: a peace treaty. After many years of war, your entire kingdom was in ruins and it came to no one's surprise that your uncle jumped at the opportunity to finally end the conflict that had been going on for over a century.
That was, however, before he had heard the details of said treaty, and after finding out what the last requirement was, he was about to turn it down at lightning speed.
That's when you suddenly stood up, dusting the imaginary specks of dust from your finest gown—the one you were ordered to wear tonight.
“Enough!” you shouted over the loud voices in the room.
Everyone, both your people and the people of the Crimson clan, immediately turned their heads towards you in surprise, not expecting such an outburst from the crown princess. You'd been silent the entire meeting, choosing to keep quiet and let them talk, but you'd had enough. Everybody was speaking over you, arguing over your future like it was some sort of commodity; nobody even bothered to ask you what you wanted.
Taking a deep breath, you finally whispered, “I agree to the marriage.”
. ˚✧・* •
flashback
“A little bit tighter,” you said to Mina, your maid, who was tightening your dress from the back.
It was currently almost five o'clock and you had a meeting with some officials from the Crimson clan in about fifteen minutes.
To your utter surprise, it was them who first reached out to you on forming an alliance. The war had been going on for over a hundred years and your clan was on the brink of extinction.
Pushed back from the mainland, most of your colonies and settlements now laid offshore on secluded islands in the north.
Your once prosperous nation was now a shell of its former self, ridden with poverty, famine, and death.
To put it simply, the Crimson clan massacred your entire nation and left it in ruins.
Every day, you awoke to the howling of hungry citizens who were freezing in their little cabins with nothing to eat, nothing to do. The war had left its imprint on your nation and if you didn’tdo anything soon, nothing would be left of the once prosperous clan.
You fiddled with your sleeve nervously as you walked down the hallway, both Chan and Jisung right behind you. This was a major meeting and they'd rather be found dead than not accompany you on such an important day. The three of you had been through so much growing up side by side, and they were the only people you could consider friends.
Sweat was beginning to line your forehead as you nervously stopped in front of the grand entrance.
Jisung immediately rushed to hold the door open for you and you offered him a grateful nod, taking a deep breath before you entered the den of lions.
Lifting up your dress slightly, you bowed down to the visitors before taking a seat by your uncle.
Ever since your father died in the war, he was the one to temporarily rule the kingdom until a new ruler would arise. Despite his rather meek and quiet nature, he tried his best to be a strong and dependable leader for your people. Unlike your father, however, he was never a good strategist so he left most of the tactical details to Chan—captain of the Cerulean guard and his right-hand man.
The thin cushion you were sitting on proved to be rather uncomfortable after a full hour. During this time, Felix—the general and minister of foreign affairs (and the crown prince's cousin)—unrolled a scroll handed to him by one of his servants. The fiery red emblem of the Crimson clan shone on the creamy piece of parchment, making you feel even more stressed than you thought was possible.
As his slim fingers worked to crack the seal, you could feel your breath hitch in your throat. This tiny piece of paper would determine your future, along with the future of your entire kingdom.
And despite the Crimson guard arriving with words of peace, you couldn't help but stay alert. You felt uneasy as you watched the cunning man's lips tug into a smirk, reading the terms and conditions.
“Lastly, due to the unusual grounds for the treaty, the royal court requires that the Crown Princess is to be wed to Crown Prince Minho, effective immediately.”
. ˚✧・* •
A thick silence engulfed the three of you as you sat in the carriage, too stunned to speak. Or at least you were. The consequences of your words weighed down on you like a heavy blanket, enveloping you in darkness from which you felt as if there was no way out.
Turning your head to your two most loyal men (and friends, of course), you couldn't help but notice how tense they were. Chan, always one to put others before himself, tried to mask the unease but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.
He was afraid.
Meanwhile, Jisung didn't even bother to hide his emotions. A scowl was painted across his pretty lips as his hands clenched into fists. He was staring out the window, almost as if he didn't want you to see the burning rage in his eyes.
A sigh left your parted lips as you fixed your gaze on the village you were passing by. All the people seemed to be happy, the roads were clean and flowers blossomed from every little garden. It only reminded you of how little your people back home had.
You felt a pang of guilt in your heart.
I failed my kingdom.
You weren't able to protect your land. It was a sad realization, but it was the truth. It was the reason you had agreed to be shipped off to Crown Prince Minho as an appeasement gift in the first place. It hurt your pride, there was no doubt about that, but it was your duty.
Not because you were a brave princess ready to do anything for her kingdom. The thought of fleeing came across your mind several times, however, there was a bitter reason why you never even considered it an option.
You had nowhere to go.
Your entire land had been occupied by the Crimson Guard for over two decades now. Not to mention that anywhere you'd go, you'd still be recognized as the Crown Princess of the Azure clan. There were probably hundreds of people who wanted you gone, and if you ever set foot in the neighboring kingdom without an official treaty, you were as good as dead.
You've heard lots of things about Prince Minho.
And honestly, they weren't that great. Quite the contrary—the word around was that he was an unimaginable brute, bitter from the loss of his older brother whom he loved dearly. You winced at the thought of having to meet the man.
You've never met him personally—not many people have—but stories of his staggering beauty traveled to your kingdom too. They say his eyes are as sharp and cunning as those of a dragon and that if you look into them for too long, you'll get burned.
Clenching your hands by your side, you sighed, perching your head against the glass as the demons of sleep slowly overtook you.
. ˚✧・* •
“Y/N, wake up!” you heard a hushed whisper as someone lightly shook your body. “Y/N!”
With a gasp, you shot up, hurriedly looking from side to side. “It's okay, Princess, it's just us,” Jisung murmured in a low voice, the voice he used only when talking to you. As the familiar tone reverberated in your head, you released the breath you were holding, placing your hand on your chest to calm your erratic heartbeat.
“S-Sorry, Ji… just another nightmare…”
“Don't worry, I'm here,” his hand slid down your cheek to your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I won't let anything happen to you.”
Jisung's serious tone made Chan snort, shaking his head at the two of you and the obliviousness you both possessed. The boy looked at you with adoration and love, like you held the Milky Way in your eyes, while you never said anything, presumably not realizing how deep his feelings for you ran.
Or perhaps, Chan had it all wrong and you loved him back… he couldn't be sure, however, that would be even worse. The three of you were about to enter the Crimson palace, the land of the enemy, to offer a treaty. Your entire land's future relied on how well the deal would go, how merciful would the Crown Prince be. There was no way in hell Jisung would knowingly risk the future of your country by getting chummy with you, who was supposed to be wed to him, the Prince, as an “appeasement gift” of sorts.
Chan never really understood the whole royalty schtick.
Sure, he was a royal guard (the captain, in fact) and it was his duty to protect the Princess, but when he was a young teen who just started out at the academy, he had no idea of the inner workings of the palace.
He wasn't aware of all the things that were done behind the curtains, all the hushed deals, and secret affairs. However, most of all, he never would've expected to see you, the little girl whom he knew since she could walk on her own two feet (or rather waddle, to be precise), be wed to someone like Prince Minho.
Nevertheless, the man couldn't help but scoff, a small smile appearing on his lips, despite his best attempt to hide it.
Ever since he was a little boy, Jisung had this sense of duty and obligation to protect you. He was closer to your age than him, so it was natural that the two of you were closer with each other than you ever were with him. Or perhaps it was too natural.
With a light thud, the door to your carriage opened, and a young guard held out his hand for you to take. Ignoring the glare Jisung shot the poor boy, you gladly accepted his hand, slipping your gloved palm into his and walking down the steps till your feet were securely on the ground.
Upon stepping down, you were immediately taken aback. The Crimson Palace was simply divine. The humongous building extended as far as the eye could see, offering a horizontal view of the ancient-looking (but well kept) structure. Despite wanting to appear proper and lady-like, you couldn't prevent your jaw from dropping in awe.
“This is… wow,” you whispered, tongue darting to moisten your lips.
Your throat suddenly felt very dry.
It was then that you noticed how warm the climate was. The surcoat with the traditional fox-fur lining began to feel heavy on your shoulders and you realized that for the first time in years, you actually felt warm outside.
“Hey, hey,” a soft voice murmured in your ear, tugging on your sleeve. “Do you think it's him?”
You didn't have to even ask who Jisung was talking about. A cloud of worry washed over you as you immediately straightened your posture, expecting the Prince to appear from behind the swarm of guards to welcome you.
You were left disappointed though, as the person who emerged from the crown wasn't the Prince. Rather, the man that came forward was one you recognized immediately.
He was the one who came to your kingdom prior to your arrival. Felix was his name, if you recalled correctly. The pleasant smile he showed you when he was in your homeland was gone and instead replaced with a sour expression that did nothing but show his distaste for you.
Nibbling on your bottom lip, you clenched your hands in worry, momentarily allowing your gaze to drop down.
“Why's he the one greeting you?” Jisung spat out, standing in front of you protectively as if attempting to shield you with his own body. Chan too stepped in front of the two of you, hand immediately reaching for the sword by his side as if preparing for the worst.
“Where is the Prince?” he spat out lowly, his voice audibly dropping an octave. Usually, this would result in the opponents quivering in their boots. Chan could be a scary man when he wanted to and he wasn't afraid to unleash his more deadly side if it meant he would adhere to his duties.
Alas, it seemed like this trick wasn't enough to scare the Crimson soldiers.
A mere chuckle left general Felix's lips as he gestured for the men around him to disperse. Once the soldiers weren't coming directly at you, Chan stepped away with a sigh, recognizing that you were no longer in imminent danger.
Unlike Chan, however, Jisung never left the spot in front of you, his hand still protectively wrapped around your waist. The glare he was giving the Crimson Land's general was pretty intense if you'd take into account that the man was several ranks higher than him and could obliterate the three of you with a single snap of his fingers.
“Jisung!” Chan whisper-shouted from next to you, tugging his younger friend's sleeve. “Stop it.”
The boy shot another nasty glare, this time in his captain's direction, making his eyes widen. Chan was about to yank him from his position when suddenly, your voice rang through the air, clear as day.
“Jisung! I appreciate your concerns, however, I need to meet with the officials of the Crimson Land. Don't forget that we're the guests setting foot in a foreign kingdom.” Your eyes met over his shoulder. Then, with a softened tone, you continued, “I'm gonna be okay, don't worry.”
Maybe it was the strong imploration in your eyes, but Chan suspected that it was more likely the fact that you gently placed your palm on his shoulders that made the young boy step back. It wasn't the first time that the young lieutenant got into a fit and had to be coaxed by you to get back in line.
As a seasoned general of the army, Felix was quite impressed by your commanding tone and by how you managed to convince what seemed like a typical low-rank brat into listening to reason. Nevertheless, he didn't let it show, instead, focused on you—the future Princess of the Crimson Land.
Right?… wrong.
“What is the meaning of this, General?” Chan suddenly spoke up, confused as to why the Prince wasn't already here greeting you and welcoming you to the palace as was customary. You may come from a poorer land than his, but still, you were a princess.
His future wife for god's sake.
“The nerve of this man,” he growled under his breath, clenching his fists. “Where is His Highness? Shouldn't he be here welcoming the Princess?”
From the tone his voice took, you could tell that Chan was losing his patience. You tried to calm him the same way you would Jisung. Unfortunately, you did not have that effect on him. Chan simply shook your hand off but took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat.
“Sadly, the Prince could not join us now. He had some other important duties he had to tend to. Fear not, His Highness's schedule has been cleared for the evening. He and the Princess may meet in the latter hours of the day.”
“What other duties could he have that are more important than meeting the Princess?!” Jisung scoffed, folding his hands over his chest to show his distaste. He bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, sending another glare to the General. The man looked quite… young for his age, and Jisung couldn't help but realize that he must be really skilled to have earned the general's title in his early twenties. Hell, the man looked like he was younger than Chan!
“Now,” Felix continued, “I believe it is my duty to show the Princess around the palace.”
. ˚✧・* •
You would think that Felix was relishing in the way you cowered as you were made to follow him around the palace. Behind every corner, crook, and cabinet, there were at least half a dozen of maids or other palace staff gossiping about you.
“I heard that she begged for His Highness to marry her! She's only after his fortune ”
“Supposedly, she stole food from the food supply, letting her own people go hungry!”
“They say she has an awful temper and hits her own maids!”
“Don't mind them,” he rumbled, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. “It's just idle gossip. They don't have anything else to talk about.”
‘Yeah sure,’ you thought. As if he wasn't smirking at the prospect of your humiliation. He had all the power to order them to stop, yet he let the rumors spread like wildfire instead, leaving you to walk over the scorching trail of embarrassment.
Wrapping your arms around yourself, almost as if trying to create a shield between you and their hurtful words, you let out a muffled whimper.
“H-How did these rumors even spread? I never did anything of this sort…”
The General smirked, his head turning away from you as he gazed at the lush gardens of the palace. “That, Princess, I wonder too…”
. ˚✧・* •
The clock struck seven when the maids were tightening your dress. It had been almost three hours since you'd arrived at the palace. General Felix took you on a lengthy tour of the kingdom's grounds and showed you to your chambers.
Despite feeling sad and lonely, there was no denying how beautiful the Crimson Land was. From the majestic palm trees lining the path to the main gate to the Palace itself, you were still in awe.
How could a building look so beautiful, like it was taken straight from The Tales From the Thousand and One Nights?
You wondered if the Prince was beautiful too… it was no secret that Lee Minho was considered one of the most attractive princes to have graced the face of Earth. The tales of his beauty and intellect reached even the most secluded corners of the Azure Land. Yet these whispers shared amongst the people were also filled with anecdotes of his cruelty and apathy.
You knew more than to believe baseless rumors spread by servants, but the story of his older brother's brutal death was one that everyone knew by heart. It was supposedly this tragic event that caused the Prince's heart to turn into ice…
A loud knock could be heard as the maids secured the last hairpin into your hair.
“Come in,” you stated, praying that your voice wasn't quivering. You fiddled with the hems of your delicately sewn sleeves, attempting to keep the anxiety at bay.
A young man, somewhere around your age, entered the chambers with an unrolled piece of parchment. “The General request your presence in ten minutes. He will accompany you to meet His Highness.”
The way he addressed you informally wasn't lost on you, yet you didn't even find it in you to bother getting angry. Instead, you nodded, gathering the heaps of your skirts before standing up.
You followed the boy into the upper floor of the palace, immediately noticing the sudden change in setting. Although never too pressed on luxury and the way your sleeping quarters looked, it was pretty hard to miss how much more lavish and decorated this floor was. Despite this sudden discovery, you tried to stop the inevitable train of thought that you were building up to.
Perhaps you were kept on the other floor for… security reasons.
Yeah… it was bullshit… you knew. And since you were already self-conscious enough about the deal, it made it even worse.
‘Don't dwell on it, Y/N,’ you whispered to yourself as you were strolling down the hall. ‘There's nothing you can do…’
Swiftly, one of the mahogany doors burst open, General Felix walking out of the room clad in his finest robes. His platinum hair was slicked back and held up by a single hairpin, giving him a more mature and aged look. He gave you his signature smirk (one that promised no good), nodding to the man who brought you and dismissing him promptly.
“Follow me, Princess.”
Hoping to keep up with the General's fast pace, you sped up slightly, the heels of your expensive crystal shoes clicking against the marble floor.
Suddenly, the man stilled, his steps coming to a halt. You squeaked, almost bumping into him, but luckily, you managed to stop right before making contact with his body, dodging the first of many bullets that were to come at you.
“His Majesty is in the last chamber on your left. No need to knock, you can simply walk straight in. He has been anticipating you for the entire evening.”
Taking a deep breath, you start walking towards the door, unclenching your hands that were balled into fists. ‘This is it,’ you thought. ‘I'm finally going to meet the Prince… my future husband.’
Even simply hearing the word itself made you unconsciously shudder, unsure of how to feel about this.
The dark, oak doors to His Majesties chambers were rather plain, you noticed. Unlike the Generals', there were no golden plaques or anything lavish that would point to the crown Prince living there.
You couldn't decide if that was a good sign or not.
Heeding general Felix's advice, you reach for the door handle. Fingers tightly gripping at the cold metal, you felt chills run down your spine as you opened the door, walking straight into a lavishly decorated room.
The shelves were filled with artifacts and scrolls, some of them looking more than two hundred years old. A thick aroma of rose and patchouli wafted through your nostrils, attacking your senses. A loud cough tore from your throat as you covered your mouth in hopes of blocking any more of the scent. It felt like you just inhaled a bottle of the most precious bath oils.
Taking a few more steps, you found yourself standing in front of a silk curtain. Looking back, maybe you should've realized that the entire setting was rather… unusual. Later that evening, you would curse yourself for not realizing sooner.
You blamed it on the giddiness from meeting the Prince, or perhaps it was a morbid sort of curiosity that led you to tug at the curtain which revealed…
The crown Prince changing?!?!
A gasp left your parted lips, alerting him of your immediate presence. You were met with a handsome man in his early twenties, clad in form-fitting trousers and a shirt half pulled over his torso. His toned chest gleamed back on you, lingering droplets of water gliding down the smooth planes of pale skin.
A loud cough made you jerk, realizing that you were staring at the Prince who was currently half-naked.
The Prince.
When that last bit sunk in, you yelped, hastily covering your eyes to block your view of the man.
“I-I… I'm-m sorry, Your Highness. I d-didn't mean to—”
Pulling down his silk shirt, the Prince's lips were tugged into a tight line as he watched you fumble with your words, arms crossing over his chest. Though he managed to conceal it, your intrusion managed to throw him off. A smirk appeared at the corner of his lips when he spotted how flustered you were.
Sensing that you weren't going to finish your sentence anytime soon, Minho waited for a couple of seconds, just to make sure, before he started walking away, completely ignoring your presence—as if you weren't even there.
You almost cowered under his menacing aura.
As you watched the back of your future husband turn on you, a sudden pang in your chest made you do the unthinkable: you reached out and grabbed his arm.
The way he stopped in his tracks made your heart beat like crazy, and for a second, you almost forgot how to breathe.
After what felt like an eternity, his lips finally parted as he uttered a sentence that would haunt you for the coming days.
“Let go.”
. ˚✧・* •
After the rather embarrassing encounter with Prince Minho, you ran out of the room in tears, barely managing to hold in your sobs. Out of all the ways you could've met him for the first time, you had to walk in on him while he was changing (courtesy of general Felix—that man really must hate your guts).
Since you heard all the horrible rumors about him, you had hoped you could at least make a good first impression. Hell, even decent would be fine. Well, as always, fate throws fortune, but not everyone catches.
The way you're running down the hall feels most improper.
You're holding your robes high, so as not to trip over them, and waterfalls of tears are streaming down your face. Perhaps you were overreacting… no—scratch that—you were overreacting, no doubt.
You couldn't find proper reasoning for this onslaught of emotions. Was it caused by all the recent stress surrounding the engagement? Or perhaps the fact that you were anticipating this moment, imagining in your head how this exact meeting would go.
Wiping the tears from your face with the back of your hand, you sobbed.
“Why… w-why me?”
As you turned around the corner, you were too preoccupied with your current situation to pay attention to your surroundings. You didn't notice the person walking ahead until it was too late.
“Ouch!” you whimpered when you bumped into a sturdy chest, rough hands reaching to steady you at your waist. “You okay?”
Raising your head slowly, you stood up upright, coming face to face with Jisung. His sparkling orbs scanned over your face, taking in the redness of your eyes and your tear-soaked cheeks.
He looked as if he was going to say something, yet instead, he bit down on his lip, holding in whatever angry exclamation that was forming at the tip of his tongue. He shouldn't raise his voice… not when you were so visibly shaken.
“What's the matter, Princess?”
His voice was laced with concern, perhaps a smidgen of anger, and it almost made you choke on your sobs. Your fingers deftly gripped onto the sleeves of his coat as you tried to calm your breathing. His arms felt so warm and inviting that you almost wanted to burry yourself into his chest and forget about everything that just happened.
Carefully peeling your eyes from the ground, you gazed into his, blinking away the tears as you shook your head, letting him know you didn't want to talk about it. Instead, you lurched forward, whispering, “please… just hold me.”
Jisung almost felt his heart snap when he heard you utter those words, holding onto his last bits of restraint like a man thrown overboard would onto a wooden plank. Bending over, the young lieutenant slid his hands under your knees picking you up bridal style.
“Let's go somewhere more private.”
. ˚✧・* •
Turns out that the Crimson Palace offered plenty of nooks and crannies perfect for late-night talks.
“Please… stop it, Jisung. It's embarrassing…” you whined, swatting his hand away. He had been pestering you for the past few minutes to tell him what happened. After he scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the east wing of the palace, Jisung spent almost an hour simply holding you close, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back and caressing your hair.
His comforting touch allowed you to calm down and unwind, an effect he's had you since childhood.
“We've known each other since we were kids,” he exclaimed. “Whatever it is, I won't think you're embarrassing. Plus, I need to find whoever hurt you and give them a piece of my mind!”
You stifled a chuckle. “Geez, good luck with that. I heard that the Prince is an excellent swordsman.”
Jisung spluttered, eyes bulging out of his skull. “The Prince made you cry?! Goddamn, does he have no shame? I'm going to—”
Before he could even finish the sentence, you cut in with a shy giggle, placing your palm on his shoulder. “It's okay, Ji. honestly, I can't even blame him. You know… it was me who walked in on him while he was changing. He must've been just as taken aback as I was,” you sighed.
“Still—” Jisung whined, a pout appearing on his lips, “—he had no business being so mean to you. And that snake Felix!” he exclaimed, anger returning to his tone. “What's his deal?”
A few minutes passed, the two of you sitting on the balcony and enjoying the sunset as the golden hues mixed with the pink ones, creating a wonderful pallet on the sky. Jisung's arm slowly progressed from being propped against the cold marble to securing its (rightful, in his opinion) position around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.
Inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, you let your aching body relax, almost melting into his hold. His warm, protective hold, the only one that reminded you of how a mother would hold her child. You always felt safe in his arms.
A sudden ache in your stomach made you realize how hungry you were. Your lips curled into a pout as you exhaled, making Jisung turn around. “You're hungry?”
“Jisung—” you dragged out the last syllable of his name in a teasing way, just like you did when you two were kids. “How could you tell? I was just thinking about getting something to eat.”
The boy chuckled, glancing down before gazing back into your eyes. “I've known you for ages, Princess. I know the face you make when you're hungry, when you're tired, when you're annoyed. I was practically raised to guard you and make sure you're satisfied at all times.”
His tone took a rather nostalgic sound and you swallowed thickly at all the fond memories you've shared with him. “I suppose that's true. Nobody understands me like you do, Jisung.”
“Right? The two of us are perfect for each other!”
Suddenly, your throat felt oddly dry. You were perfectly aware of what Jisung was getting at with this statement, his true intentions clear as the sky on a summer night. And perhaps it was fate that brought you together yet again as Jisung gazed into your eyes, a loving smile across his lips.
Then, quickly, as if he was afraid he would lose the courage, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. It all happened in a flash, Jisung's arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, your hands sliding into his hair, gripping onto the locks tightly—as if your life depended on it.
Your head was spinning, the air around you heavy, and the only thing you could pay attention to was Jisungs warm lips molding against yours. It was almost like the world around you stopped spinning, everything—including your surroundings—forgotten in favor of the man in front of you.
It was intoxicating, addicting, heated—like a hot summer evening—and you melted into his embrace like the tip of an iceberg fighting against the last rays of the Sun.
Suddenly, a loud clank could be heard, one akin to someone dropping a heavy object. You and Jisung immediately separated from each other, fear written in both of your eyes. His palm pressed against his mouth, fingers caressing his lips as if he still couldn't believe what he was done.
“Shit!” he whispered. “What have we done?”
This was wrong. Everything that just happened was wrong. How could you have allowed him to kiss you? If anyone saw you, you were done for…
“Y-Y/N–” Jisung stuttered, tears materializing at the corners of his eyes. “I'm s-so sorry… I swear I didn't mean to—I have no idea what came over me–”
“–Jisung,” you cut in, realizing that he was about to spiral. Jisung always put up this tough persona, pretending that he was okay and nothing bothered him, but over the years, you've learned to tell when he was in one of those moods. Push and pull, like the tides of the ocean, your understanding of each other was a two-way street, reliant on how the two of you experienced the presence of the other.
“What happened right now was certainly…” you took a deep breath, just a step too close to freaking out. “Improper. Neither of us should have engaged in such acts. As such, we should never ever speak of it, understood?”
You peered at him from under your lashes, hoping to coax more than just an empty stare from him. Luckily, the boy swallowed thickly, but nonetheless nodded, focusing his entire attention on you.
“That's not to say though that I didn't enjoy the kiss.” You grabbed his hand in yours, shyly looking away. “There's a reason I reciprocated, Jisung. Make no mistake.”
The look he gave you was almost as painful as the expression he made when he first heard that you would be moving away. Like a man starved of his deepest, darkest desires. By telling him that you felt these feelings, these tender emotions reserved for people in love, you were letting him know that although he scored in the first alley (by winning your love), there were other circumstances that would prevent the two of you from taking your relationship anywhere further.
He would have to watch you wed, not to mention he would have to be present during the ceremony. And that's not to say that he wasn't capable of being happy for you—he was, but there was a small seed of doubt that was planted in his mind before you even left your kingdom.
Would you be truly happy?
Or rather, would Prince Minho make you happy?
The tales and rumors that surrounded the… cold-hearted nature of the Prince were known to all. In the back of his mind, Jisung had already performed an assessed judgment of Minho and his entire persona. And he came to a very simple conclusion.
That bastard did not deserve you.
A sudden fluttery motion materialized in the corner of his eye—you were waving your hand in front of him, hoping to catch his attention.
“We should go.” The words fell from his mouth in a quick breath as he shot up, grabbing your hand and running towards the direction of your bed chambers.
“Wait, Jisung!” You exclaimed, trying to shake off his much too powerful grip on your wrist. It was no use—as a trained guard, he was leaps stronger than you and your pleas fell on deaf ears. “Calm down, please.”
“I can't, Y/N. I'm sorry, I've dishonored you. It's my duty to bring you to your chambers as quickly as possible—that's the least I can do.”
A choked sob leaves your throat. But you know that he's right—all that's left for you to do is pray that no one saw you. Relaxing into his grip, you allow the lieutenant to walk you in front of your door.
“Goodnight, Princess,” he whispered, giving you a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
“Goodnight, Ji…”
. ˚✧・* •
“What were you thinking?!”
Chan's voice rang loud and clear, cutting through the crisp morning air. The Captain measured his subordinate with a bewildered glare, fumes almost seeping from the top of his head.
When he saw the way Jisung nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt, eyes cast downwards, something tugged at his heartstrings, making his gaze soften.
“Jisung,” his tone was now calmer and quieter, barely above a whisper. “Why did you do that?”
The younger boy snorted, “Out of all the things you could've asked me, I never expected you would ask that.”
Chan raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You're not gonna say anything? I expected you would have at least a proper excuse.” When Jisung stayed silent, he sighed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, “Why did you kiss her?”
“You know the answer to that just as well as I do. Don't make me say it out loud…”
He sounded broken, like some higher power sucked all the life out of him, leaving only a shell of his former being behind. And Chan hated it. He hated how things had to pan out. He hated himself for not realizing that something like that was bound to happen.
He watched the two of you grow up, side by side. Like two peas in a pod. Jisung and Y/N. the princess and her guard. The two of you spent all your free time together, getting into all sorts of trouble. Chan wanted to kick himself for not putting an end to this fairytale love story before it got out of hand.
Another thought raced through his mind. “Did anyone see you?”
The way Jisung avoided his gaze made it perfectly clear.
. ˚✧・* •
The next morning, you woke up to the birds chirping outside your window. The view from your chamber was so idyllic you almost forgot the events of yesterday evening.
Slipping from under the covers, a loud pounding in your head made you stumble as you whimpered, steadying your hand against the wall. For the first time in months, you placed your hand against your head, closing your eyes as the ice began to cool you down.
You hated using your powers.
They reminded you of all the horrid events in your life, all the things you wanted to leave behind. Yet for some reason, you only felt relief. Like the familiar feeling of ice crystals seeping from the tips of your fingers reminded you of the few happy memories you shared with your parents.
Paddling towards the heavy door, you pushed it open, peeping down the nearly empty hallway. Suddenly, the smell of freshly baked rolls and the sweetest fruit wafted through your nose, making you sigh in delight. It had been ages since you last ate, and the loud grumble of your stomach made you realize that fetching some breakfast wouldn't be so bad after all…
You followed the delicious scent of food down one of the more secluded halls until you reached a heavy mahogany door. The sight made you shudder as you remembered yesterday's events. Luckily for you, the Prince was likely dining in the main dining room, and not in the small, hidden corner of the east wing. Using all your strength, you pushed against the door.
And curse your luck cause once again, you ended up face to face with Prince Minho.
Sweat broke out on your forehead as you took a step back, ready to run out the door and disappear.
“Good morning, Princess,” the General's voice drawled, making your skin crawl. The smirk painted across his lips made you want to throw up, remembering how he purposefully made you walk in on Minho just so that you'd leave a bad impression.
“M-Morning. I'm really s-sorry, I didn't mean to i-interrupt—”
“—nonsense. You're not interrupting, am I right, Your Majesty?”
Minho scowled, redirecting his attention back to the vegetable omelet that lay in front of him.
“I should probably go–” you whispered, reaching for the door handle. The air in the room was thick and heavy, weighing down on you uncomfortably.
“Stay. I'm sure the Prince would like to hear about your first day in his kingdom. Right?” Felix nudged the man, feigning innocence.
“Whatever, Lee. I'll be leaving soon, anyway.”
The general looked back at you, flashing you a bright smile. “It's settled then. Please help yourself.”
Metaphorically backed into a corner, there was nothing left for you to do, other than accept his (insincere) offer. A sigh escaped your lips as you sat down, smoothing the hem of your silk nightgown, suddenly feeling insecure. Had you known that you would dine with him, you would've dressed more appropriately.
“So, Y/N, do you mind telling us how your first day went?” Felix piped while gracefully cutting his pancakes into manageable pieces and dipping them in honey. You couldn't help but notice the dangerous glint in his eyes, a shiver running down your spine.
“It went rather well, although, I didn't really get to explore much of the palace.” You proclaimed, bitting down on a piece of fresh fruit. “I was hoping I could get to go outside and see the villagers too—you know—to get acquainted with the people.”
A smug smile appeared on Felix's face as he pretended that you piqued his interest. “Well, I'm sure that you got to explore other things last night, am I right?”
Your brow shot up, not understanding what he was getting at when suddenly, it hit you. The color drained from your face as you put together two and two, realizing what he meant. Felix noticed the sudden change of attitude, smiling proudly as he took yet another jab at you.
When you make no efforts to explain, he continued, “I am curious though, where did you go after meeting His Majesty?”
The heat rose to your cheeks as you stumbled to answer him without saying anything suspicious.
“I-I was looking for the way back to my bed chambers, but due to my limited knowledge of the palace, I got lost.”
Another snicker. “And did someone, perhaps help you find your way?”
“Y-Yeah… I met one of my guards and he escorted me back to my room.”
“I see. You must be really grateful to have met him, Princess. So grateful that you—”
“Enough!”
Minho's voice sounded much too irritated as he cut his General off before he managed to say anything else. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized what this meant. He knew. He knew exactly what happened between the two of you and he wasn't happy about it.
“Felix, I think we should allow the Princess some privacy. The meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”
You allowed yourself to nervously peer at Minho through your lashes, instantly regretting your decision. When your eyes met, there was so much anger and hostility in them that you shuddered.
“It was very nice talking to you,” Felix winked as he and the Prince walked out, leaving you to drown in your sorrows.
The sound of the door slamming echoed in your head.
. ˚✧・* •
The branches fluttered in the wind, flapping from one side to another, guided by the howling air. You sat perched on one of the benches deep in the gardens, hidden from view.
For the past few days, you roamed around the palace, trying your best to stay hidden from Prince Minho and Jisung.
Steering clear of the Prince proved to be a rather easy task—there was no reason for you to want to spend time with him and vice versa. But avoiding Jisung… that ended up being a lot more difficult than you initially anticipated.
Not that the two of you crossed paths that often, rather, it was the strong pang of guilt in your heart whenever you passed him. Whether he was sparring, practicing, or patrolling the palace grounds with Chan, your heart would break at the sight of the dark circles under his eyes and the generally lifeless energy he exuded.
Little by little, the loneliness slowly got to you, devouring you like a deadly plague until nothing was left. The darkness consumed you in its entirety, and with no one to turn to, you felt like it was you against the world.
The dark clouds in the sky were a perfect visualization of how you currently felt.
Speaking of clouds, you could tell that a storm was coming, thunder beginning to rumble in the background. There was no use sitting like a duck and getting wet.
Gathering the hefty skirts of your azure robe, you stood up, dusting off the dirt from your hands. A heavy raindrop fell from the sky, splattering against your skin. With a sigh, you picked up your pace, running towards the main gate.
. ˚✧・* •
You learned that spending hours at the library isn't something one can just stop doing.
Well, to be fair, there wasn't much for you to do, other than burying your nose in a book, but it still brought back many cherished memories from your childhood. Before the accident. Before all your troubles. Back when your biggest concern was when the sequel of your favorite series would arrive.
The action itself held no real value to you, but it was the idea it represented. It allowed you to pretend that you were just another person in academia, studying to make something of yourself. There was no pressure to be perfect, to marry, to listen to your husband.
It was just you and the bulky, leather-bound tomes. The scrolls made out of quality parchment that smelled like home. Just you and the scent of fresh ink.
The book that was currently perched up on your lap was rather interesting.
“The Crimson Clan; Tales from the Depths and Crevices of the Most Prosperous Nation”
Despite its somewhat… jarring name, the contents of it were rather straightforward and simple. Everything you'd possibly want to know about your new homeland was in here. The foundation, history, and rebirth of this thriving land—all were explained in the most thorough of details.
You even found yourself smiling while reading through the chapter on festivities and celebrations. It stirred something within you, to know that these people were fortunate enough to have so much to celebrate.
Ignoring the slight pang of jealousy in your heart—one caused by the unfortunate circumstances of your war-stricken, poverty-afflicted nation—it allowed you to feel something you haven't felt in a long time.
Something dangerous... Hope.
An emotion you had long given up on after seeing your land in ruins and your people in pain. You cursed yourself for allowing something that could threaten the alliance to even happen.
It seemed like there was no chance for the Crown prince to love you—which hurt you more than you admitted to yourself—but it didn't matter. Marriage out of love was rare anyway. So in hopes of preserving the deal, you decided that you would try your best to win the favor of Lee Minho.
Sans love, romance, or affection.
You would make sure that you'd see this treaty to the end.
. ˚✧・* •
The wind tonight was light and breezy, like a whiff of fresh peonies on a spring morning.
After many days of locking yourself in the library, your joints were aching, leading you to believe that you deserved a bit of a break.
You spent the better half of the week reading through many volumes of the ‘The Crimson Clan’ series, learning everything there was to know about your new homeland. It was certainly difficult, more difficult than you first imagined it to be, but after hours spent cramped in the corner of the library, things were starting to look up.
The unfamiliar words and phrases were starting to clear up, having read them enough times to learn their true meanings. The unusual ways of the nation inked on the pages were beginning to make sense after you understood a little bit of how they were thinking, and the festivals and celebrations were becoming more comprehensible as you read of their origins.
You even kept a small notebook by your side at all times, jotting down the new words you've learned and organizing your thoughts and opinions.
A loud growl of your stomach made panic, looking around in fear that someone saw you. It was rather stupid—there was no one around—but the dread of someone seeing you in such an… unladylike state made you tremble.
Fortunately—just as you predicted—no one was around to witness the embarrassing sounds of your stomach. And maybe this was a sign that you should take a break, and perhaps, get something small to eat.
There's a light bounce to your step as you walk down the empty halls, humming a tune you heard the royal quartet play. The birds were chirping and the weather was lovely—making you suddenly regret that you spent the past days holed up in the library.
“What do you think you're doing?!”
The loud scream had you stopping in your tracks. What was going on?
“I-I'm s-so sorry. I-I was told to c-collect a-all the laundry. P-Please, don't p-punish me,” Came the answer in a much quieter voice.
Turning around the corner, you found a small group of people crowded around two; a servant and a guard. Immediately, you could tell that the guard was threatening the young girl, as she was backed into a corner, eyes wide as a laundry basket lay discarded by her feet.
“How dare you go through my drawers without permission?” he barked, ears turning red in fury. The girl only took a step back, quivering as she realized she hit the wall. “I won't let this slide!”
“Enough!”
All eyes were on you as you walked up to the guard, fuming. “What do you think you're doing?”
“Y-Your Majesty—” he stuttered, anger slowly dissipating, “I was only chastising this, this foolish maid for going through my room!”
You shook your head. “There's no reason for you to yell at her like that for such a simple mistake. You could've explained what she did wrong without scaring her like that.”
You gestured for the girl to come to you, sanding in front of her protectively. Giving her a smile, you remarked, “If he ever gives you any trouble, come to me immediately.”
The man's face turned beet red in embarrassment as he looked down at his feet. “And you, if I ever hear that you're bothering her, you'll be on laundry duty for the next week!”
There was a loud chorus of laughter that followed and the people around you slowly started to scatter, leaving only you and the young maid. She looked to be a few years younger than you.
“T-Thank you, Your Majesty,” she bowed, shyly looking away.
“It's okay. Assholes have to be put in their place, right?”
She didn't laugh.
Embarrassed by your little joke not landing well, you reached out to gently pat her hair. “What's your name?”
“Yuna.”
She was still shaken up, you could tell by her closed-off stance. “Well, Yuna, I think you were very brave today. I'm really sorry you had to go through this, please don't hesitate to reach out to me if anything like that happens again.”
With a wave of your hand, you saw her off, smiling widely as you walked down the hall.
. ˚✧・* •
“Your Majesty—” you ignored the calls of the young servant, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “I'm fine, don't worry.”
“Please, Your Majesty… you've done nothing else than reorganize these scrolls for the past few days! You have to rest…”
“No, I'm fine, don't worry. I'm glad to be of some use.”
You moved another section of scrolls and loose leaves of parchment down on the floor, wiping down the shelf with a wet rag. After making sure the surface was perfectly clean, you picked up the scrolls, reorganizing them on the shelves by date and topic.
While doing so, you've also managed to learn more about the kingdom, familiarizing yourself with its history. These ancient scrolls provided you with much more information than the books you read.
The afternoon sun was shining down on you through the large, open windows. The light cotton blinds were no longer enough to protect you from its wrath.
“Maybe it really is time for a break,” You mumbled, dizziness slowly taking over you. You wiped down your forehead with a wetted cloth, swiping over your face and cooling yourself down.
You've been in here for… seven hours already…
. ˚✧・* •
“What?!” The Crown Prince shouted, slamming his fist on the table. His eyes were sharp and focused, glaring down at the poor messenger that was quivering in his boots.
“I'm afraid t-that's all I know, Your Majesty. We've been told that a rebel group has infiltrated our lands. We're currently awaiting more information regarding the size of the group and how far they've reached.”
A long, drawn-out sigh escaped the Prince's mouth as he slumped back in his seat, rubbing his temples. The palace was already in chaos after the arrival of the Crown Princess, and this was slowly becoming more than he could handle.
The messenger scurried away after being dismissed.
Before the Prince could even take a breath, another knock on the door made him roll his eyes.
“Come in!”
“Your Majesty,” the old man bowed. Minho immediately glanced up after recognizing him as the man he appointed to watch over you. “Has there been any development?”
The man, face aged by war, pressed his lips into a thin line before pulling out a piece of parchment. His fingers deftly worked to undo the knot on the string, sighing when the parchment finally unrolled.
“There haven't been any interesting sightings of Her Majesty. Every day, she wakes up and eats breakfast before walking to the library. There, she reads through an impressive amount of chapters on the history of our land, takes some notes, and walks back to her chambers where she orders a light dinner.”
The old man paused, looking the Prince in the eye before continuing, “Recently, she has been spotted going to the ancient scroll room instead of the library. A servant told me that she insist on cleaning the room and reorganizing all the scrolls.”
Minho cut the man off, “—Who has she been ordering to clean the room?”
“No one. She insists on doing everything herself, Your Majesty.”
The Prince audibly groaned at the revelation. After what happened, he had wished for you to give him a reason to hate you, but so far, you'd given him none. Instead, you made guilt blossom in his chest by behaving like a responsible future queen a king could only wish for.
So far, you've kept to yourself and educated yourself on the kingdom's history and its traditions. You didn't abuse your power and outright refused help unless it was absolutely necessary.
Running a hand through his hair, he questioned, “Were there any, uh, any incidents? Anything unusual?”
“No, Your Majesty. Her Majesty hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. Although—”
“—although what?” he immediately latched onto his words, ears perked in interest.
“I've had several accounts from servants and other palace staff that Her Majesty got into a quarrel with one of the guards.”
Minho was hanging on his lips, listening intently. He ran a hand through his hair, sipping from his goblet.
“It appears that the guard was verbally harassing one of the new maids. Her Majesty was just around the corner so she stepped in, putting an end to the fight and telling the guard off.”
Minho felt like banging his head against the wall.
Why were you so kind? So perfect? It gave him a headache just thinking about all the things you've done since you arrived. He was hoping that during this period of separation, he would catch you doing something improper, something that would give him a reason to cancel the treaty and subsequently, cancel your engagement, thus annulling your arranged marriage.
But so far, all you've done was for the benefit of others. You have proved yourself to be a kind and intelligent person, which were exactly the traits he would've been looking for in his future Queen.
When he realized that the old man was still standing by his desk, he cleared his throat, “You can go now, thank you.”
Bowing, the man hurriedly walked out of the room, leaving the Prince to drown in his sorrows, consumed by guilt.
. ˚✧・* •
Later that evening, you found yourself in your bed chamber after a long day. Your muscles were aching from standing on a ladder and cleaning all day. Upon entering through the door, something rather strange caught your attention.
There, on your bed, lay a beautiful red gown with golden stitching. Your eyes bulged out of your skull as you took in the gorgeous article of clothing. It was the prettiest dress you've ever seen.
As you took a step closer to admire the garment, you noticed a small folded piece of paper attached to the front of the dress. Skillfully, you pull it out and unfold it, scanning over the message written in neat cursive.
Dear Princess Y/N,
I know we haven't gotten off on the right foot, and I'm aware that I too am partially to blame for that. It has been brought to my attention that you spend every day in the library reading or cleaning the scroll room. As such, I was hoping I could invite you to a proper dinner (hence the dress ;).
When you are free, please stop by my chambers. I would love to arrange a proper date with you.
Sincerely, Lee Minho
. ˚✧・* •
Your heart was beating loudly as you stopped in front of the heavy doors. The handle was platted in gold and the wood was carved with beautiful ornaments, reminding you of the front gate of the palace. You gently pick up the metallic ring and bang it against the door.
“Come in,” Came the muffled reply.
As you nervously walk into the room, you feel like your skin is on fire. Fear clouds your eyes as you worry about the unknown. How would he react once he saw you?
When you found the ruby dress in your chambers, it felt like your heart did a 180. Touched by the kind gesture, you almost allowed yourself to fantasize about all the what-ifs. What if Lee Minho actually cared for you? What if he wanted to spend time with you? These questions were running through your mind like a whirlwind, further confusing your already unstable heart.
When the Prince comes into view, you almost felt the blood freeze in your veins. Clad in a fitting robe with gold fastenings, accentuating his broad shoulders and impeccable physique, you couldn't help but swoon at his beauty.
His trimmed locks were parted in the middle, framing his handsome face. Against the pale complexion of his skin, his rich, chocolate eyes stood out, peering at you with an intensity that brings Chan's infamous glare to shame.
Too busy nervously fiddling with the hem of your skirt, you didn't notice the way his gentle smile fell, turning into a frown.
You were anxious.
Not only that—to Minho's dismay, you looked like you haven't slept in days. The circles under your eyes were prominent, and the way your muscles tensed made his heart shatter.
“Have you been sleeping well?”
The question caught you off guard, but not as much as the soft tone of his voice. He sounded almost…. Concerned?
Your eyes fluttered, giving away just how much you needed some shut-eye as you whispered, “Not really, Your Majesty…”
He expected you to elaborate, but you didn't, leaving him unsure of what his next steps should be.
“You can call me Minho,” he paused, letting the words sink in. When they did, your eyes parted wide, taken off guard by something that should've been so insignificant but held so much significance to you.
‘You can call me Minho’
That sentence played over in your head like a mantra. “Minho,” you breathed out, barely above a whisper. The name was so known, yet still seemed so unfamiliar. It rolled off of your tongue with strange, child-like anticipation. Like it held something deeper.
The Prince smiled upon hearing you call him by his first name. Like honey, it sounded so sweet when said by you.
“Due to our predicament, I think it would be rather foolish for us to stay exceedingly formal with each other, don't you agree?”
Your heart was beating loudly against your ribcage as you squeaked, “You can call me Y/N, too.”
“Great,” he smiled, “I'm glad we're on the same page, love.”
The heat rushing to your cheeks almost made you want to hide your face in embarrassment. Minho chuckled at the adorable sight, fighting the urge to reach out and pat your hair. His smile only grew when you carefully glanced at him from under your lashes.
“I'll arrange for Seungmin, our healer, to come to visit you,” he muttered, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment. “I'm sure he can recommend something for you to sleep better, perhaps some herbal tea…”
The two of you talked for a few more minutes. The Prince kept asking you questions regarding your schedule, what you did during the day, and if you had any idea what caused your sleep problems. You tried to answer him to the best of your abilities, occasionally staring off into space as you wondered what caused him to make such a 180 personality-wise.
Placing the parchment into a drawer and slamming it shut, Minho faced you, giving you his full attention. A coy smile played on his lips when he remarked, “About dinner… does next Friday sound good?”
. ˚✧・* •
Anger.
That's all that was on Felix's mind as he strolled down the hall, trying to get away from Minho's chambers. He was sick, sick to his stomach from the conversation he just overheard.
‘Love.’
He wanted to barf. What did you do to cause Minho to behave like that? The general barely recognized his longtime friend in that short conversation between the two of you that he eavesdropped on. Why was he so smitten? Did you manage to seduce him?
It truly wasn't like him to behave like that, Felix concluded, and he was gonna make sure he helped his friend see the light again.
. ˚✧・* •
Your shoulders scraped against the wall as you leaned on it, breathing in to catch your breath. The air suddenly felt thick and heavy as you struggled to calm your nerves. Maybe you should really catch a break?
But there was still so much for you to do… the piles upon piles of books, scrolls, and other artifacts were hard evidence of that.
And much to your dismay, you still haven't been sleeping well, meaning that the exhaustion was slowly getting to you. Your limbs were aching and your entire body felt rather stiff.
“Damn it,” you groaned, sliding down the wall till you were sitting on the freezing marble floor.
“Your Majesty.” A sudden knock echoed through the room, your eyes immediately shooting up towards the door. “Come in,” you reply.
A young girl came scurrying inside the room with a golden tray. She placed it on the table, positioning the tea kettle and the teacup next to a small pile of paper.
“This is the herb tea sent by head healer Seungmin as per His Majesties request.”
“Oh, right. Thank you so much!” you beamed, shooting up and walking towards the table. The maid poured a generous amount of the liquid into the cup, handing it to you with a slight bow.
“Thank you. You may go now.”
Bringing the porcelain cup to your lips, you inhaled the fresh, fruity scent, sighing at how pleasant it smelled. With a relaxed smile playing on your lips, you sipped the warm beverage, enjoying how it heated you from the inside, leaving behind a tingling sensation.
While reading about the kingdom, you noticed that a lot of the authors mentioned the complicated system of the land's foreign trade policy. Despite the fact that you read many books on the topic, it quickly became quite obvious that they only touched the surface of the complex system.
That's why you decided to schedule a meeting with one of the advisors of the royal court, a man named Hwang Hyunjin. You've heard many things about him, from his socialite, flirty nature to his love for pies.
It's the reason were in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist as you sifted the dry ingredients into a bowl. After that, you cracked a few eggs into the mixture, stirring it till you had a dough-like consistency.
All and all, it took you about an hour till the pie was finally in the oven. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, you smiled at the sight of your creation. It may have not been the nicest looking pie you've laid your eyes on, but you were proud nonetheless.
Once it was done, you pulled it out with a pair of oven mitts. Excitement washed over you—it smelled exquisite—and you were ready to present it to the self-proclaimed pie man of the city.
. ˚✧・* •
The wind was light and breezy, tousling his hair as he stood on the balcony, bending down over the railing. From the corner of his eye, he saw you, walking through the garden in your outdoor cloak, smiling from ear to ear. In your hand, you held a box, and he could only guess what was inside.
Jeongin—one of the guards you've befriended during your stay—greeted you with a tip of his hat as you passed the gate. You grinned at him in return, commenting on something that made the boy visibly blush, looking away shyly.
Despite only watching you from afar, Minho couldn't help but smile softly. Every day, his heart seemed to yearn for you more than before.
And Lee Minho was a man of principles… he followed his heart.
. ˚✧・* •
The night had fallen. In the sky, countless stars were shimmering like scattered moondust and glimmering like lost beacons of hope.
The meeting with Hyunjin went rather well if you could say, and you left his house feeling like you've learned a lot. Despite his flirty nature, he seemed to have known that there was a certain line he shouldn't cross, given that you were to be wed to the Prince, so he only allowed himself to occasionally wink at you, gloating over the bashful smiles you gave him.
“You make a lovely baker, Princess,” he complimented, eating another spoonful of the pie. You smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Thank you.”
Once you arrived back at the palace, you slipped into your silk nightgown, sighing at the cool sensation that spread over your body. You weren't used to such fine materials, your kingdom being way too poor for such luxuries, but it seems like the Crimson clan had enough money on their hands to afford these expensive items.
You asked one of the maids to bring you some boiling water. Once she arrived, you pulled out the sachet of Seungmin's herbal tea and prepared the beverage.
You drank it while watching the stars from your balcony. The air was chilly and cool, the wind fanning your cheeks. As you sipped the drink, you couldn't help but feel drowsy, like you were about to fall asleep. Your mind felt foggy like it was being put to sleep which alarmed you. You were just fine earlier. What caused this?
You tried to stand up, but you were unable to, instead stumbling over your feet and falling to the ground.
On second thought, the marble floor of the balcony was pretty comfortable, you realized, as your warm cheek pressed onto the cool stone.
. ˚✧・* •
Minho was starting to grow concerned when you didn't answer after the fifth knock. Standing in front of your door impatiently, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, pondering. Should he come in?
He waited for a couple more seconds, just in case you were walking towards the door, but when nothing happened, he knocked for the final time.
“Y/N, are you okay? I'm coming in!”
Without missing a beat, he rammed his shoulder against the door using all of his strength. After the second try, the hinges finally gave out, the door bursting open and allowing Minho to run in.
“Where are you? Y/N?!”
There was alarm in his voice, and it took all of his willpower not to panic. Your bed was empty, and he noticed how it was made, the blanket neatly folded over the length of the wooden frame. You would always make your bed yourself, the maids would tell him.
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he scanned the room, searching for a clue—anything, really—that could hint at your whereabouts.
If something happened to you…
Fuck. He didn't know if he could ever forgive himself if something were to happen to you.
And while he was busy muttering all the curses he knew, he caught something from the corner of his eye. A fluttering motion. Turning his head, he noticed the white curtain dancing in the evening breeze. And the curtain was leading from the balcony…
Aha!
He ran to the glass french door, immediately spotting your crumpled-up body on the cold marble. Bit by bit, he felt his heart crack at the sight. What did you deserve to be lying on the ground, passed out like that?
“Y/N,” he cried, kneeling beside you and cradling your face in his hands. He pushed the stray locks of hair out of your face, gently thumbing the apples of your cheeks.
“Oh, Y/N! What happened to you, my love?!”
The desperation in his voice was heavy, and with hooded eyes, he gently slid his hands under your frame, effortlessly lifting you into his arms. He pressed you close to his chest as he walked back inside of your room and laid you on the bed.
. ˚✧・* •
“Will she be okay?”
The healer rolled his eyes at the Prince, applying the soaked cloth on your forehead. It was the fifth time His Majesty had asked, and quite frankly, it was beginning to get on his nerves. Seungmin had just come down from a fever, so he had to step in, covering for his sick friend.
He never would've imagined the Crown Prince to have such a desperate side to him. Misery definitely didn't suit him, he decided. It wasn't a good look on him, or perhaps, it was the fact that it shattered the cold image he had created in his mind of the Prince.
“She likely just passed out due to exhaustion,” he said in a gruff tone, swiping the hair away from your forehead. “Her muscles seem tense and she hasn't been sleeping well.”
“I-I know,” Minho's voice cracked. “I hoped that the herbal tea would help…”
A beat of silence followed. “Well, I think my job here is done, Your Majesty. She should come to in a few hours,” the young healer muttered, grabbing all his belongings. “Call me if anything happens.”
The door thudded, leaving Minho alone with you in the room. The feeling of distraught crept over him, clawing at his heart as he watched you lay peacefully beneath the covers.
It was during times like these that he felt utterly useless. There was nothing he could do, and realistically, he should've accepted that. Yet there was a part of him that yearned to do something, to help you, to relieve the pain.
His heart skipped a beat when he realized something. The two of you hadn't known each other for long enough for him to know how to make you feel better. No, regrettably, he wasn't in possession of such knowledge.
Yet he knew someone who was.
His insides twisted at the thought, almost as if his gut was trying to talk him out of this. Thinking about him only made him remember his short-lived jealous streak—an emotion he didn't want to feel again.
Han Jisung. He didn't like him, far from it, he rather despised the young guard, for multiple reasons. The first one was his loud nature—mere days after the arrival of the Cerulean carriage, he was already the talk of the town. He heard at least a dozen maids giddily chirping about his supposedly gorgeous smile. It didn't help that he joined the sparring club as soon as he could, allowing a large amount of the female population the privilege of oogling his toned physique. He was the center of attention anywhere he went, winning the favor of all the palace staff.
But what irked him the most was undeniably how close he was to you. Minho knew it was childish to foster such jealousy for the guard. Despite his rather surprising self-awareness, he couldn't help but feel a prick of envy whenever he saw him, especially after hearing that the two of you made out in his palace, despite the fact that he was supposed to marry you in the near future.
In spite of all the things he listed in his head, he wasn't blind to the fact that you cared for him deeply. Just as Jisung must've cared for you. But he knew. He knew that this was the one thing he could do for you.
So despite his better judgment and the erratic beating of his heart, Minho headed out of the room in search of a person he never expect to look for in the first place.
. ˚✧・* •
To say that Jisung was confused would be the understatement of the century.
It wasn't every day that the Crown Prince came looking for you, especially if you kissed his future wife.
He entered the empty changing room, leaning his back against the wall with an unreadable expression. Jisung didn't know if he should bow or not. He decided that it would probably be improper not to, so he managed to awkwardly lower his torso, the shirt he was putting on still caught around his shoulders.
Once he was decent, a loud cough from the Prince made him look up. “I need you to follow me.”
When Minho noticed the uncertainty swarming in his eyes, he clarified, “Y/N fainted. I think she could use waking up to a familiar face.”
From then on, it was a blur. Jisung bolted out of the room like thunder, leaving Minho. Not wanting to be left behind, he ran after him, following his trail back to your bed chambers. His heart finally shattered as he watched the young guard disappear inside, the door slamming shut behind him.
. ˚✧・* •
Ever since you awoke to Jisung besides you, your heart felt just a little bit lighter. Despite the constant workload you inflicted upon yourself, there was still a void in your chest, left behind after the two of you practically cut off any sort of interactions.
It had been weird at first, but to be fair, the weirdness, or so to speak, had begun when Jisung, your best friend and guard—had kissed you, right inside the palace of your future husband.
It came as a surprise to you how easily the two of you had glossed over the initial awkwardness.
“Wait– sit down, Y/N. You shouldn't be overexerting yourself,” his hand on your shoulder pushed you back down into the covers.
“Oh please,” you groaned, “I'm fine now. I must've gotten a bit light-headed, you know, from the change of air pressure and all.”
Jisung snorted, “We both know that's bullshit, Princess.” Then he took on a much softer tone, “But even if you're feeling better now, you still should rest.”
You tsked, but in the end, you complied. You knew he meant well and you didn't want to worry him anymore. Instead, your palm reached over to his, gently encasing his hand in yours.
“I know that it's hard, but we must address the elephant in the room, Ji…”
You could feel him tense, eyes glancing anywhere but at you. He opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came out, allowing the pregnant silence to envelop you. When he finally gathered his thoughts, he glanced back at you, an apologetic smile on his lips.
“I'm sorry, Y/N. I know I never should've done that,” his hand gripped tightly onto yours. You carefully watched his face, only to realize—to your unease—that he started crying. There were tears streaming down his face, leaving faint trails of moisture that glimmered under the light. You watched in horror as the sobs wracked through him, muffled sounds leaving his parted lips.
And the only thing you could do was gently rub his back, blinking to suppress any tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.
“Ji—” you whispered, but Jisung cut off. “—I-I'm really s-sorry. I know I've caused you a lot of pain,” he sniffled, looking away in embarrassment. “It's hard for me to f-follow boundaries without overstepping them—especially since the line between us has always been s-so blurred—but I clearly went too far.” Another sniffle. “A-And this time, m-my reckless actions had dire consequences…”
And the dam broke.
Tears were now streaming down your face like a waterfall, staining your cheeks as you whimpered, “Sungie, please…”
He understood your silent plea, hand reaching out to grab yours, intertwining your fingers together. “I'm so s-sorry,” he sniveled onto the top of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Sungie…”
After a couple of minutes of enjoying the warmth of his embrace, you pulled away from his chest. “T-This is probably the most we've ever apologized to each other,” you sniffed, a small smile appearing at the corners of your lips.
“Y-Yeah,” Jisung whispered, running his thumb down your cheek, wiping away the moisture. “My pride usually got the better of me…”
A pleasant silence settled in the air as you watched Jisung, eyes carefully following the way his facial expressions changed. He seemed unsure of himself, something you weren't necessarily used to which made you frown.
Glancing at you, Jisung noticed how intently you were watching. Grasping your hand, he worried his lower lips between his teeth before muttering, “I think Minho likes you.”
“Jisung,” your eyebrows shot up, unsure of what to make of this statement, which sounded more like a prank than anything, “what are you saying?”
A small pout appeared on his lips when he realized you didn't believe him. “I-I—”
“—Yeah?” you implored impatiently, a sudden wave of giddiness washing over you. “Why do you think that?”
“As much as I hate that snobby bastard, I couldn't help but notice that he seems to care for you all of a sudden,” Jisung muttered under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes. “He's the one who brought me here — he came running to me like a madman just to tell me that you fainted.”
“Why would that be unusual though? What if he just wanted someone else to wait with me? He probably didn't want to deal with me—” you pointed out hurriedly, not buying the whole schtick.
“S'cause he said something about you ‘wanting to wake up to a familiar face’ or whatever... Awfully cheesy, I know,” he chuckled, fidgeting with his fingers, “but he really seemed worried about you. His clothes were all disheveled and his hair was messy… he probably stayed by your side for at least a few hours.”
Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks making you look away in embarrassment. This was all it took for you to feel like a lovestruck teenager once again. Your heart was beating inside your chest at the mere possibility of him actually caring for you.
“I should probably go—now that you're up,” Jisung stood up, dusting off his leather pants. His expression turned into a hard mask of unreadability as he walked off. “Sleep well, Sungie,” you managed to call after him before you heard the door slam shut.
The steady beating of his heart contrasted with the tears trailing down his cheeks as your last words echoed in his head.
And just like a mother hen has to part with her little ones, Jisung parted with you.
This was the end of the two of you ever sharing anything other than a platonic relationship, and with a heavy heart, he acknowledged that it was time for him to move on.
This time, for good.
. ˚✧・* •
“Minho!” you called, running down the hall in hopes of catching up to the Prince. It was past breakfast, and you were walking towards the main gate when you spotted the handsome man strolling through the corridors of the palace.
Briskly, the Prince turned around after hearing his name being called, mouth stretching into a grin when he realized it was you who was calling him.
“Good morning, Princess. How are you? I hope you're well-rested after yesterday's events.”
You rubbed your eyes tiredly, stifling a yawn, “Yeah, pretty good! I'm just tired and achy but other than that, I'm perfectly fine,” you flashed him a smile.
You couldn't help but notice how his smile froze, a worried expression painting his face. “Are you alright? Should I call the head healer to make you some brew—”
“—No! It's fine,” you interrupted, not wanting him to needlessly worry. “Really, I'll be okay.”
A heavy silence engulfed you as you stood in front of the Prince, pondering over how you were going to thank him for yesterday. Finally, after a long series of deep breaths, you turned to him.
“By the way, um, I wanted to thank you for… you know… what you did yesterday.”
“What do you mean?” he inquired, placing his hand on your arm. “Oh, you know,” the heat rushed to your cheeks, making you look away shyly. “You were the one that found me, right? Jisung told me that you stayed with me for over an hour before you brought him to me…”
“Oh…”
You missed the way the apples of his cheeks turned a shade of pink, fumbling with the hem of your sleeve. “Well… I'll have to go now,” you whispered, your words barely audible. Before you could overthink your actions (which would inevitably lead to you chickening out), you leaned closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to the curve of his jaw.
“Goodbye, Minho,” you waved with newfound confidence, crinkling your eyes. Minho could only watch as your figure disappeared around the corner.
He hadn't felt so euphoric in ages.
. ˚✧・* •
“Hmm,” your foot tapped against the ground, hands on your hips as you chewed at the nib of your pen, scanning the market. At first sight, the place reminded you of everything that your own kingdom wasn't. It was lively and crowded, and there were so many goods you didn't know in which direction to look.
Truly a feast for the eyes, you noted.
But despite that, you knew that the Crimson land, just like any other land, had to have its own set of issues.
Issues that you soon discovered ran a bit deeper than you originally had anticipated. After countless short ‘interviews’ (if you could even call them that) with the local citizens and villagers, you found out that there was a reoccurring pattern of corrupt, lesser-powerful royals in charge of the adjoining regions under the Crimson rule abusing their powers.
“Count Choi raises the taxes by a little bit every year,” an elderly woman complained, lowering her voice as a string of colorful curses rang from her lips. Frustration could be seen in her angry gaze—you could tell how powerless she felt.
A middle-aged man, similarly to her, shared how Viscount Kim suspended the stream from the river to the well, cutting off their immediate water supply.
“It's nearly impossible to reach His Majesty in any way. Or at least since the…” he immediately paused, looking around in fear of being overheard. “...Since his brother died in the war,” he whispered urgently, shaking his head.
“But even if we could set up a meeting with him, I highly doubt anyone would be willing to.”
It surprised you to hear just how much his own people feared him. Sure, Minho wasn't exactly the most… hospitable person when you first met him, you wouldn't even go as far as to say that you were friends, but the look of fear in the people's eyes was unmistakable.
As far as you could tell, the people were utterly terrified of him.
Noting down all the new information into your handy journal, you made a mental note to find a way to bring it up with Minho as soon as you could. Perhaps once you two finally managed to have the promised dinner together…
‘Just a few more days’ you realized with glee.
A loud thud almost made you drop your notebook as you realized where you currently were. Coughing awkwardly, you briskly walked over to one of the more secluded stalls, not wanting to stand still in the middle of the busy marketplace crowd.
A sudden smell of freshly baked rolls wafts through the air, making you keen. You turned around over your shoulder in hopes of finding the stall that managed to produce such lavish-smelling treats.
“Hello,” you walked up to the small booth, greeting the elderly lady behind the counter with a smile. In front of you layed pastries of all shapes and sizes, arranged in multiple rows. Almost salivating, you scanned all the treats—you felt like a kid in a candy store. There were so many options and quite frankly, when presented with so many choices, you felt at your wit's end.
“You aren't from here, are you?” she chuckled, wiping her hands into the apron around her waist.
“Oh… can you tell so easily?” you winced, rubbing the back of your neck, heat rushing to your cheeks.
She smiled, “Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It isn't quite often that we see foreigners here and we can usually tell by seeing them shop around.”
“I see. Do you mind if I ask you to recommend me something? There's just so much to choose from and I'm afraid I'd stand here all day if I had to choose,” you giggled bashfully, looking down in embarrassment. It was true though, and with so many choices, you were bound to ponder over something as simple as what you should eat for ages.
“Of course,” she bent down and picked up a large pot. “Jeongin! Bring the sugar dragons!”
Your brow raised upon hearing the familiar name, a smile appearing on your face when you saw the familiar figure come in through the door. The boy looked like he had just rolled out of bed, dressed in what you assumed to be his comfortable clothes. His hair sat messily atop his head, likely uncombed, making him look even more adorable.
“I'm coming!”
Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he placed the large container on the counter, pushing the hair out of his face. Only then did he notice you standing in front of him, smirking with your arms crossed over your chest.
“Y-Your M-Majesty–” he stammered, taking a step back. His eyes widened into the size of dinner plates, causing a chuckle to tear through your throat.
“Jeongin,” you cooed, grinning at the sight of your friend (at least you hoped you could consider the boy your friend). A rosy blush rose to his cheeks, dusting them with a soft, peachy hue. Stuttering, he awkwardly attempted to bow as his mother watched, unsure of what to do.
She ended up following suit, lowering her head as a string of apologies left her lips. “It's okay,” you tried to placate the two of them, repeating over and over how you didn't really care for royal greetings anyways.
Moments later, all three of you sat around a small table in the middle of their living room, munching on the little sugar dragon popsicles.
“What are you doing here anyway, Princess?” Jeongin's tone—to your relief—took on a more laid-back quality as he slumped back into his chair.
“Oh, nothing much,” you remarked, noticing how Jeongin's mom was now watching you intently. “I thought I could actually come to see the village myself and meet the people of the land I will soon rule.”
You sipped some freshly squeezed juice jeongin graciously offered you before continuing, “I figured I could ask around and figure out some points of friction,” you gestured towards the market outside the window. “Since I still don't get recognized in public, I figured people would tell me there was something bothering them.”
“That's very nice of you to do,” Jeongin chimed, picking up all the plates from the table. “Did you find out anything interesting?”
“Oh, definitely,” you lean over the table, immediately launching into a detailed explanation…
. ˚✧・* •
A strangle of curses left your lips as you sat on the chair, focusing all of your energy on creating a spark of ice. Your eyes were shut in concentration, brows furrowing at the realization that you likely wouldn't produce any anytime soon.
“What is going on?!” you whisper-shouted under your breath, staring at the tips of your fingers as if that would ever help. You had bumped your head earlier in the morning while preparing some morning tea and to prevent a nasty bruise from appearing on your body, you thought that you could cool the sore spot with some ice.
Except it wasn't working at all. It was like you never had any powers, to begin with, the feeling reminding you way too much of how you felt back when you were a toddler, forced to focus all your energy into manifesting the first slivers of ice.
‘This is bad,’ you realized, beads of sweat forming at the top of your forehead. ‘Really bad.’
The realization of what would happen if it were released to the public that you lost the ability to control your power hit you straight in the face, causing your heartbeat to steadily grow.
There were so many officials and high-standing people in the palace, hungry to find anything as simple as an unrelenting rumor or idle gossip to discredit your position as the future queen of the nation.
And the fact that you couldn't summon your powers would definitely be enough grounds for them to try and annulate the treaty.
The whole point of this marriage was to unite the two kingdoms and create a powerful empire, one that could afford to stay at peace. It was expected that the two of you would produce an heir soon after the marriage, followed by (hopefully) many more children to come, some of which would inherit Minho's fire-bending ability while others would learn how to control ice, like their mother.
And despite the fact that you would never be forced to battle anyone, the information about your sudden ability-loss would certainly make you an easier target as you would be rightfully deemed weaker and more vulnerable.
“Damn it!” you groaned, wiping off the tear that slid down your cheek with the back of your wrist.
‘This wasn't going anywhere,’ you concluded, so you decided that you had to distract yourself asap. Picking up your trusty, leather-bound notebook, you began to flip through the pages until you found the one you were looking for. At the bottom, there was an address scribbled down in smeared ink.
It was the address of the local orphanage.
While talking to one of the villagers, you had found out that there weren't that many teachers in the regions that would teach poorer people. He explained that because of that, some children (especially the orphans) grew up struggling to read, write, or even do simple calculations in their heads.
And since no one really paid any attention to you, slipping out of the palace with two bags filled to the brim with clothes, supplies and some food was the easiest thing in the world.
Damn, maybe the palace should update its security.
. ˚✧・* •
“Hello,” you greeted the children lined up in a row, “I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you.”
“Hello Miss Y/N,” all the kids greeted back in unison, beaming with happiness despite their torn clothes and streaks of dirt on their faces. Your heart clenched at the sight, making a mental note to remember to bring some washing oils next time you came.
The head of the orphanage, Jihyo, welcomed you with open arms, enthralled that she had someone who seemed interested in the well-being of the little kids.
“You know,” she wept, wiping the tears off her face, “It isn't often that we get volunteers here, especially ones that are willing to teach these poor kids some skills that would help them once they become adults.”
You nodded gently in understanding, handing her your handkerchief. “I'm glad to be of service.”
Once you handed her the bags filled with goods, she busted in tears once again, hugging you with so much fervor you were afraid she'd crush your lungs.
After that, she lead you to the room where a small chalkboard hung on the wall of the modestly furnished space.
Setting down your materials on a small table, you grabbed a piece of chalk before writing on the board the contents of today's lesson, underlining it twice.
“Now, who can tell me the alphabet?”
. ˚✧・* •
After the first day of volunteering at the orphanage, you realized that it was something you enjoyed a lot. It gave you a sense of pride and fulfillment, knowing that you were helping these children who had so little, and you told yourself that you would bring the lack of proper funding for these institutions to Minho's attention since you didn't really hold any power yourself as of right now.
Every time you saw them smile as they read a word out loud or calculated something in their head, your heart burst at the sight of their happy cries and cheers.
“Here you go,” you handed the young girl with pigtails the last piece of pie that you bought on the market before coming here, wiping your sticky hands into a towel nearby.
“Thank you,” she chirped, gleefully swallowing down the pastry with a grin. “You have a really nice dress, Miss Y/N,” she suddenly spoke up, staring at your yellow gown in awe. “And you're really pretty and smart too! Just like a princess… I wanna be just like you when I grow up!” she pumped her fist in the air, giggling softly.
“Aww,” you coo, touched by her kind words. “That's so sweet of you to say, Rosie. You're really sweet and pretty too, you know that?” She smiled bashfully as a gentle blush colored her cheeks.
“Do you want me to braid your hair?” you inquired, gently brushing a stray lock from her face. After her furious nod of approval, she grabbed your hand, leading you towards one of the cushions on the floor.
. ˚✧・* •
“There, you go! All done,” you grinned, patting her head after fastening the last of the fancy hair clips you took out from your bun into her braided hair.
“Thank you so much, Y/N,” she turned around to pull you into a hug, “you're the bestest person in the world.”
“Uh-uh,” you tutted, wiggling your finger in front of your face to show your disapproval. “You know that's not true, Rosie. Miss Jihyo has been taking care of you for so long and she's the most caring person I know. She's the bestet person, don't forget that.”
“Ahh, you're right,” her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “She's the bestet person in the world but you're right after her.”
“Thank you, Rosie,” you whispered into the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “And you're the sweetest little girl I know.”
. ˚✧・* •
“Come in,” you muttered against your pillow, too tired to leave the sanctity of your bed and open the door. A loud click could be heard as a tall figure stepped inside your room, shutting the door behind.
“Hey, Y/N…”
You immediately recognize the soft, husky voice, heat rising to your cheeks as you struggled to sit upright with the sheets still tangled between your limbs. “M-Minho! Hi–”
The man chuckled at your distressed state, cooing when you buried your head in your hands in embarrassment. ‘Cute,’ he thought.
“I'm not interrupting you, am I?” he asked, sitting on the edge of your bed. You promptly pulled your legs up to your chest to make more space for him. “N-No, I was just taking a small nap since I didn't sleep well last night.”
“I see,” his brows furrowed, “you're still having trouble sleeping?”
You could feel your heart combust at the question. It was stupid, beyond stupid, and you knew—however—it was like your heart had a mind of its own, completely ignoring your rational thoughts.
“I think I'm still getting used to the new setting, perhaps the change of weather,” you added lamely, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown. Suddenly, Minho scooched closer to you, making you look up.
“I'll go ask Seungmin if he has anything other than the tea that he could give you,” he placed his hand tenderly on your thigh, rubbing the soft flesh with the tips of his fingers. The gesture caused a pleasant shiver to run through you and you sighed. “Thank you.”
The two of you stay like that for a bit longer, enjoying the balmy silence before Minho cleared his throat, catching your attention.
“U-Uh… so, I know we haven't been able to spend much time with each other,” the corners of your mouth twitched, and you were very close to reminding him why the two of you didn't meet.
Upon seeing your expression, his cheeks flush. “I know it's because of me—I'm really sorry we had to cancel our dinner plans—Felix ambushed me with an unplanned meeting so I had to take care of that…” he trailed off, his hand still resting on your supple skin.
“It's okay, Minho. I understand that you have many responsibilities as the future King.”
“Yeah, but that doesn't excuse me canceling so abruptly,” he reasoned. “I was hoping we could have the dinner next Saturday—I've had my entire schedule cleared for the day so we can even go somewhere after we eat.”
The smile you gave him was positively contagious, and he found himself beaming. “Okay, then it's settled.”
. ˚✧・* •
As you're walking down the alley leading to the orphanage, you couldn't help but feel like you're being watched. After turning around multiple times to check if you see anyone trailing behind you, quickening your pace in hopes of losing the person, you still can't shake the eerie feeling.
Jihyo had warned you about walking to the orphanage. She mentioned the army barracks being stationed nearby, as well as a brothel just a few blocks down the neighborhood. It wasn't the ideal place to run a children's home, but due to her limited funding, she had to settle for the less than quintessential location.
“Sometimes, there are drunk men wandering the streets,” she whispered hushedly, looking over her shoulder to make sure none of the kids could hear her. “Please be careful, especially after dusk…”
Her warning echoed in your head, making shivers run down your spine as you scanned your surroundings. As you briskly hiked your dress up in hopes of having more mobility, you heard a sudden thud, panic flooding through your veins.
‘Just a little bit more,’ you thought, sighing in relief as you slung the door to the orphanage open, stepping in and shutting the door behind you.
Immediately, you were swarmed with kids flocking to you, little Rosie reaching to envelop you in a tight hug.
“Hello, Y/N,” they all chirped in unison, some grabbing your dress in attempt to pull you into their study room. “Hey, hey!” you giggled, patting their heads. “Don't worry, I know how eager you are to learn. I'm coming!”
And just like that, you're pulled into their own little world, pointing at the chalkboard as you explain today's topic at hand—multiplication. It's a hard topic to grasp, especially for kids who have never gotten a proper education. The children's ages varied—from as young as four or five to the eldest being in their preteens. And because of the huge age difference, you were forced to tailor your explanations to them depending on which category they fell into.
The youngest bunch was occupied with drawing basic shapes (you sat them at the back of the room and handed them some colored pencils along with a few sheets of paper). The rest of the kids were seated before you, all staring at the board intently as you tried to explain the mathematical operation to the best of your abilities.
“Each bird in the sky has two wings. But if there's three of them, how many wings are there in total?”
Judging by the way they all frowned, you could tell they were deep in thought. It took a few seconds, but finally, one of the girls raised her hand.
“There are six wings, right?”
“Correct!” you beamed, pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Moving over to the board to grab a piece of chalk, you began to draw three birds in total, writing small numbered indexes above each wing.
“See?” you gestured towards the board, “there are six wings in total. Well done, Yujin!”
. ˚✧・* •
“Remind me again, Felix, why are you bothering me in the middle of work?” Minho sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. His golden crown lay on the table beside him, discarded, as he found it pretentious to wear the ornate piece of gold when he found himself in solitude.
“Sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty,” the general snickered, reaching for the paperwork on Minho's desk. In a swift motion, he slammed his hand down on the table, seizing the papers from his hands and placing them on the armchair behind him.
Minho could only scowl at the blatant show of disrespect, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I found out some very interesting information about the Princess.”
Upon hearing that, Minho's ears perked, causing Felix to chuckle. ‘He had become weak,’ he thought, so smitten for that girl.
When he was sure he had his attention, he continued, “A little birdie told me, that the Princess has been sneaking out of the palace quite often.”
Minho's expression faltered for a fraction of a second, but unfortunately, Felix had noticed.
“Why would that be of my concern, Felix? Y/N isn't my possession—I have no interest in controlling her every move. If she feels like taking a breath of fresh air, who am I to stop her?”
“I don't think you're understanding what I'm trying to convey, Your Majesty,” he drawled, smugness radiating off of him in waves. Minho had to hold himself back from decking Felix in the face.
With a groan, he looked him dead in the eye, “then tell me, Felix, what is it that your little spies have found out?”
“She's been sneaking out to the eastern part of the district,” the General noticed how the Prince's throat bobbed. “Almost every day, she leaves in the morning and returns in the evening. Apparently, it's in the area near the barracks and the illegal brothel down on Scarlet street.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued, the only thing that could be heard was the rapid beating of the Prince's heart.
“Oh, and also, one of the servants caught her sneaking into the supply room,” he handed him a report, “there have been things going missing in the past two weeks, and it is starting to affect our scheduled monthly budgeting…”
As Felix watched the gears spinning in Minho's head, he couldn't help but grin wickedly. This was exactly what he had wanted—to plant the seed of doubt in the Prince's mind, allowing in to slowly grow over time until it would eventually take over him.
And you had handed him the perfect means to do so on a silver platter.
“Where do you think she has been going?”
The question slipped from his parted lips in a quiet breath, and Felix couldn't help but admire how calm and collected he sounded. But then, the cracks in his facade slowly started to appear as the corner of his mouth twitched.
And that's when Felix decided to lay the last blow.
“I'm not entirely sure, but I'm betting she's secretly meeting with the loverboy…”
And that's all it took for Minho to storm off, leaving a pleased Felix alone in his office. The Prince's hands were clenched into tight fists, steam practically rising from atop of his head.
‘Stop it!’ his inner voice suddenly commanded, snapping him out of his fit of rage and back into reality. This was you he was talking about. Kind, open-hearted, and diligent Y/N.
What a fool he was, he realized, wanting nothing more than to give himself a smack. There was no need to get unnecessarily angry—he could just go to you and ask you to explain. Especially since that part of the city was very dangerous—perhaps he could just warn you about the potential peril.
After the short pep talk, he finally stood in front of your heavy doors, knocking gently on the dark wood.
He knocked once… Nothing.
Twice… Still no luck.
And when he knocked for the third time without you responding, panic slowly flooded his veins.
You were nowhere to be found.
He searched through your room, turning everything upside down but there was no trace of you.
He knew you were a free spirit but did you always have to worry him so much?
Slamming your bedroom door behind him, he ran down the hall, thinking about where you could have gone. And that's when it hit him—perhaps Felix was truly right about your supposed whereabouts.
Realizing that made shivers run down his spine—he didn't want you anywhere near that street, especially so late at night.
“Fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath, throwing on his overcoat and grabbing the small decorative dagger that hung on the wall. It was his brother's.
After informing one of the servants of where he was headed, he ordered a small group of soldiers to be sent in the same direction in case things truly went south.
“Please, Y/N… be okay.”
. ˚✧・* •
As you stepped outside the orphanage, you cursed at the realization of how late it was. You hadn't planned to stay for so long, but you found yourself helping Jihyo with some chores (and there were so many of them), like washing the laundry, cleaning the living space, and preparing some of the food for tomorrow.
Your mind wandered back to your plans for the upcoming days. The date of your dinner with Minho kept coming closer and closer, which made your heart race. The image of the two of you sitting next to each other, eating some good food and laughing at each other's jokes like a normal engaged couple made the heat rise to your cheeks.
But you couldn't help it—ever since you and Minho had smoothed out the initial misunderstandings between you, you seemed to have fallen for the Prince. Sure, he was cold at first, something that made you keep your distance from him, but you slowly began to realize that there was much more to Lee Minho than meets the eye.
Under his perfect facade, you found him to be a vulnerable man, who was forced to build walls around himself in order to protect his emotions. He loved his brother dearly, and you could tell that his untimely death shook through him like a storm, leaving his soul broken into pieces.
It was just your luck that he seemed to be warming up to you, actually making an effort to interact with you and ask you about your health.
Suddenly, you heard a loud thud, accompanied by some loud voices. Your heart stilled in your chest as you paused, listening intently for any other noises.
You didn't have to wait for long, as a plethora of men's voices echoed through the night, making you realize that they were drunk. Very drunk. Their voices were slurred, sounding like they just got wasted at some bar nearby, but that didn't help to soothe your unease.
Drunk people meant angry people, and you didn't want to risk being in their presence to find out just how angry the men got here.
You began to run straight ahead, hoping that you'd slip by without them even noticing, or at least fast enough so they wouldn't be able to react in any way. You could hear their voices getting closer to you, but alas, you were almost at the end of the street. Hopefully, you'd just take a turn and leave this nasty street behind.
Wrong. What you didn't account for was the light from the only flickered lamp at the beginning of the street getting weaker and weaker. You realized that you had tripped way too late, unable to brace yourself for the fall. A shrill scream left your parted lips, as you cursed yourself for being so damn clumsy.
“What was that?” one of the men grumbled, suddenly sounding perfectly sober. A chorus of mumbles ensued as they all tried to figure out what had just happened. You felt your life wither in front of your eyes as one of the guys pointed in your direction.
You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping in the process again, but your attempts at getting away were feeble at best. A calloused hand clamped around one of your wrists, pulling you back into a rough body. You wrinkled your nose at the heavy smell of liquor.
“What are you doing here so late at night, pretty girl,” the man slurred, hand reaching to grab your cheek. You had to fight the urge to spit in his face, instead choosing to simply wrinkle your nose in disgust to mask the growing fear coursing through your veins.
“J-Just on a late night stroll… my husband is expecting me home in a few so…” you trailed off, hoping your voice sounded steady enough to convince them. You prayed that the ‘husband’ card would be to your advantage and they'd let you go if you mentioned that you were already with another.
Was it horrible that you had to go to such means? Sure, but at this moment, the only thing you cared for was getting out of here as soon as possible, your pride be damned.
A chorus of oooh's could be heard, followed by boisterous laughter. “You say you have a husband, little one?” the man's grip on your wrists tightened as he ran the rough pad of his thumb down the apple of your cheek. It was now that you realized how powerless you felt without your abilities. You would've kicked his ass if you could just freeze his hands and get out of his grip, but with your current predicament, it wasn't possible
“Well, it seems like your husband really doesn't care about you, little lamb. Especially if he lets you out all alone so late at night.”
The words cut deeper than you expected them to, like someone plunged a knife into your chest, twisting in and rearranging your insides.
“Wait a second!” one of the men in the back shouted, catching the attention of his companions. “She seems familiar…” he trailed off, grabbing your face roughly and moving it to inspect you from different angles.
A few seconds passed, followed by a loud gasp. He dropped your face, mumbling to himself, “i-it's her… it's the Azure Princess for God's sake!”
You winced at his revelation, cursing under your breath. You were hoping they wouldn't recognize you, unable to predict what they would do if they had realized that you were in fact the future Queen. From what you've gathered, your popularity here wasn't exactly what you had been hoping for.
Well, it seems like you would find out soon enough…
“Now well well well,” the man grinned, revealing his rotted teeth as he walked around you like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. “This changes everything, don't you think, sweetheart?”
“It doesn't change the fact that your breath stinks, Smelly,” you spat back, trying to hold in the gagging noises in the back of your throat. The man's face turned beet red, fumes nearly coming out of his ears as the other men tried to stifle their snorts, looking away and masking their laughter with a few awkward coughs.
“Damn, she's feisty,” one of them chimed, quickly shutting up when he noticed their leader's piercing glare.
“It seems like you haven't understood the gravity of your situation, witch.”
When you heard him growl, regret washed over you almost immediately. ‘Stupid, Y/N, stupid!’ you chanted in your head, wincing as you felt his grip on you tighten.
Suddenly, a fluttery motion materialized in the corner of your eye. It was pretty dark, the singular lamp at the end of the street not doing a good job of illuminating the area, but you were positive that you saw something move past you.
“It seems like you aren't realizing the gravity of the situation, you fucking bastard!”
You gasped upon hearing the familiar voice, tears of joy prickling at the corners of your eyes.
“M-Minho,” you croaked, relief washing over you like a tidal wave. You shifted slightly, noticing that the man's grip on your hands had loosened slightly, but not enough for you to break his hold.
Minho stiffened at your hoarse voice, anger flooding through his veins. His arm was currently slung around the man's much broader figure, pressing the tip of his dagger to his jugular. His other hand was extended towards the rest of the group, flames bursting from the tips of his fingers.
The men took a few steps back, clearly frightened by the sudden display of power. They all knew what this had meant since only the royal bloodline possessed the ability to wield fire—the Prince had come to get you.
And by the sound of it, he was livid.
“I'll say it only one more time, you pathetic piece of shit, before I fucking burn you to the ground,” he seethed into his ear, pressing the tip of the blade deeper into the man's skin, a few drops of blood dripping down his hand.
“Let. Her. Go!”
Everything that happened after that was a blur. You could vaguely remember the events that followed Minho's sudden appearance. The bastard who held you didn't want to give up, but after feeling blood trickling down his neck, he unwillingly let go of you, pushing you to the ground with a thud.
He turned around to fight with Minho but he never really stood a chance in the first place, the young Prince blowing a gust of flames in his direction, tearing a shrill scream from his throat. After that, the two sparred for a short while, and despite his smaller stature, Minho had managed to land a fair share of blows on the much larger man.
There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, making it look like he was far gone as he landed a final blow on him, spitting on his wrecked body. You watched the scene with wide eyes, trembling in the chilly, evening air.
Never in your life had you seen a man as angry as Minho was right now.
He was panting, deep, ragged breaths leaving his parted lips as he tucked the dagger behind his belt. Slowly, as if afraid he would scare you, Minho turned around, eyes finding yours.
Upon seeing you shivering on the cold ground, he felt something tug at his heartstrings.
“Princess—” he rasped, wiping his bloodied hand into his leather pants before carefully walking towards you. He crouched beside your figure, running his thumb down your cheek to wipe away the trail of tears that'd fallen.
“You're probably cold, aren't you,” he slid off his coat, gingerly placing it on your shoulders. You accepted the warm garment with a quiet ‘thanks’.
“Everything will be okay,” he whispered, hands sliding under your body and hoisting you up into his arms. You snuggled up into his chest, pressing closer to him in hopes of obtaining some of his body heat.
“Let's get you back,” he bent down to press a chaste kiss to the top of your forehead, smiling gently—a stark contrast to his wrath you witnessed mere minutes ago.
On the way back, once you fell asleep in his arms, Minho allowed himself to let go, unable to keep the strong facade any longer. A few tears trickled down his face as his grip on your form tightened.
‘You must've been so scared,’ he realized in anger. Why were you out so late? Why didn't you protect yourself? From what he had heard, you were quite the powerful ice-bender, and Minho for the love of God couldn't figure out why didn't you try to do anything against the men.
“Your Majesty,” Changbin, the captain of the 1st legion saluted, wincing at the state of his ruler. “I apologize for the delay, we had some troubles during our departure.”
“There's a man lying unconscious a few minutes walking from here. Go and bring him back. I want him sent to the dungeon,” Minho muttered darkly.
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
. ˚✧・* •
When you awoke to the birds chirping, sunlight was streaming through the flimsy curtains, making you squint. Your head was pounding, a dull, steady ache accompanying the numb pain around your wrists.
A sudden movement made you look down, noticing Minho half-sitting in what looked like an uncomfortable chair, his head and torso lying over your lap. The morning rays of the sun were illuminating his face, like a glow cast gently on him by the angels.
“Minho—” you stirred him awake, tenderly brushing the sweaty locks of hair from his forehead. He mumbled something unintelligible in response, groaning into your duvet. “Hey, hey—wake up.”
With a sudden jerk, he shot up, tiredly rubbing at his eyes as he slowly came to. “Good morning… uh, how are you feeling?”
“Morning,” you responded lamely, scanning his face and spotting the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he had barely slept all night—which he probably had—but the sight made your heart clench.
“W-Wait a second… morning? How long was I out?”
Upon hearing the panic flaring in your voice, he responded as calmly as he could. “It's okay, don't worry. I, uh, I brought you in yesterday at night so probably about ten hours?”
All the memories of the previous night started to flood back, making you feel dizzy. The world was literally spinning, your head feeling heavy when Minho gently propped you up, helping you find a more comfortable position.
“Go back to sleep, okay?”
And just like that, everything went black.
. ˚✧・* •
“Good afternoon, Princess,” a familiar friendly voice chirped, walking through the ornate doorway. Groaning, you peeled your eyes open, coming face to face with Jeongin, who was holding a tray full of fresh pastries and fruit.
“My mom prepared these for you, they're fresh out of the oven.”
There's a forced cheerfulness in his tone, and you assumed Jeongin was trying to comfort you, not wanting to bring your spirits down.
“Thank you.”
He set the tray on the night table, careful not to hit Minho (whose head was still laying on your lap) with the assortment of treats he brought.
“How long has he been there, do you know?” you suddenly spoke up, keeping your eyes trained on the Prince. You had a suspicion that he hasn't left your side but you were hoping it wasn't true.
“I'm not sure, actually,” Jeongin shrugged, “but I heard that he carried you here all the way. And judging by his appearance, he probably stayed all night with you. He was really worried.”
Glancing up at Jeongin, you tried your hardest to muster up a smile. “Yeah… that sounds like something he would do…”
. ˚✧・* •
It took another few hours for you and Minho to finally talk.
After Jeongin left, you munched on one of the sweet pastries before pulling over the duvet and lying back in your bed. Your hand was gently curled around his hair as you let the exhaustion take over you once again, closing your eyes and welcoming sleep with open arms.
When you awoke, it was already evening, judging by the sun setting behind the windows.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Minho's raspy voice startled you into a seating position, eyes widening. “Ah, sorry… I, uh, I didn't mean to startle you,” he winced, hand reaching for yours as he gently interlocked your fingers.
“Um, it's okay,” you croaked, “I was just surprised, that's all.”
The uncomfortable silence lingered in the air for a bit longer, making you wince. It felt like you had just gone back to being awkward together, and it pained you so much to be unable to talk to him freely.
You shifted in your seat, your hand gently tugging at Minho's in the process, bringing it closer to your own lap. Your ears perked up when you heard him let out a pained groan, panic immediately flooding your veins. You glanced back at him, noticing the soiled bandages peeking from under his linen blouse.
“Minho!” you exclaimed, hastily reaching for the shirt and gently pulling it away, inspecting his injury. You were met with what looked like a knife wound, sloppily wrapped in plain bandages that were soaked with blood.
“What happened to you? Are you okay?” the questions began to roll off your tongue in a swift manner as you peered at him from under your lashes, distraught.
Minho, visibly taken aback by your concern, merely shrugged. “It must've happened while I fought off that bastard—I think he managed to graze me with his knife…”
“Grazed? Are you kidding me? Minho, this gash looks deep, did you at least get it disinfected?” you exclaimed worriedly. The way he guiltily avoided your gaze answered your question.
“For God's sake,” you groaned, kicking off the blankets and throwing your legs over the edge of the bed. Alarmed, Minho immediately reached to push you back down.
“I'm just going to get the healing kit,” you murmured under your breath, feet padding against the cold, marble floor. Once you returned, you gestured towards the bed.
“Sit down on the bed, you dummy,” you gave him an incredulous look as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I'll clean your wound.”
A soft blush coated Minho's cheeks as he sat down on the bed, nervously tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. You placed the box on the chair he previously occupied, taking out all the items you would need.
Clearing his throat, Minho muttered, “I didn't know you were a healer.”
You smiled gently, preparing an herb decoction in the small washbasin. “I'm not, I just know a thing or two about treating wounds—there was a shortage of healers in our kingdom during the war.”
“Ah,” Minho awkwardly bit his lower lip, evading your gaze. “I see.”
After you were done with the herbs, you turned around to face him, pointing at his shirt. “Can you take it off? I, uh, I need to access your wound to properly wash it.”
“Yeah, of course,” his lips curved into a smile, hands reaching to pull the shirt over his head. If he noticed the heat rising to your cheeks, he didn't mention it, instead basking in the way your gentle hands began running over his torso as you carefully unwrapped the bandages.
After you were done, you placed the soiled gauze on an empty tray. Your cheeks were warm as you took in Minho in all of his—albeit slightly disheveled and injured—glory. Smooth planes of toned, sun-kissed skin that felt like heaven under your fingertips.
He was so… warm.
And you meant that in the most literal way—his body heat was unmatched. Perhaps it was due to the warm nature of fire, or the generally hot lands of the Crimson land, but his soft skin was radiating so much heat.
Not to mention his hair—dark and touseled, so unlike his usually tidy and neat updo. You had to resist the urge to run your hair through his curly locks.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”
You immediately snapped your gaze back up to him, face heating up in embarrassment. “I-I… I wasn't—”
“Weren't what? Staring at me?” he smirked, his ego swelling up after having caught you staring at him for so long. Well, to be fair, it was nice to know that he had a similar effect on you as you did on him. When he noticed how flustered you were, his tone took on a softer edge.
“It's okay, Princess—no need to be embarrassed. After all, we will be soon husband and wife.”
Sadly, his statement only riled you on more as you grabbed your supplies.
“This may sting a little,” it's the only warning you gave him before beginning to gently run the wet cloth over his wound.
“Ah-ah,” he moaned in pain, clutching onto the bedsheets as if his life depended on it. Your eyes widened at the sinful sound, bitting at your lower lip.
“S-Sorry.”
Once you deemed the wound clean enough, you placed your palms against his toned chest, gently pushing him down on the bed.
“Stop it,” you grumbled, pinching his waist once you saw him wiggle his eyebrows suggestively… “It'll be easier for me to properly rinse the wound with the herbs if you're laying down.”
Chuckling, Minho submitted to your wishes, his back making contact with the bed. You kneeled beside him, grabbing a clean cloth before dipping it in the herbal tincture. Once it was completely soaked, you gently wrung it over his wound, wincing as he groaned in pain.
You repeated the process a few more times, until the wound was relatively clean, save for the few streaks of blood on the pinkish flesh.
“ ‘M sorry,” you mumbled quietly, reaching for a small tin. “I'm almost done.”
“It's okay, no need to apologize.”
After that, you applied some sage salve onto the wound and proceeded to tightly bandage it with a new gauze.
“Thank you,” Minho slid up into a seating position, pushing the sweaty hair from his forehead. You could tell that he was still recovering from the stinging sensations, breathing shallowly.
“It's no problem, just make sure to visit the palace physician to make sure everything is alright.”
When he didn't respond, you noticed how tense his shoulders looked. His brows were furrowed, almost as if he was deep in thought and he kept balling his hand into a fist before unclenching it. Seemingly, something was bothering him.
“Are you okay, Minho?” you decided to voice your concerns, nervously biting your lip.
“I–, uh… yeah. Don't worry about it, it's kinda stupid,” he chuckled anxiously, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“Hey, hey… look at me,” you gently grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you. “Your happiness matters just as much as mine. If there's something bothering you, please tell me. Maybe I can help…”
“That's the thing,” he laughed bitterly, “I don't think you can help me with this.”
You peered at him, confused.
“It's just that— I…” the words seemed to get caught in his throat. “Were you with Jisung last night?”
As soon as he uttered the sentence, his head fell into his hands, embarrassed. “No, whatever, you don't have to answer. This is just the jealousy speaking—I shouldn't be concerned about that when your life was in danger yesterday—” he rambled on, clenching his hands into fists—a habit you have picked up on as a sign of stress.
“Minho,” you stroked his cheek with your palm, “Please, just look at me.”
He slowly lifted his head, eyes staring into yours. You noticed the wetness at the corners of his eyes—were those tears? You didn't ask, however, not wanting to put him on the spot. He seemed to struggle with being vulnerable and open with people, so you figured it would be better not to mention it.
“Why would you think I was with Jisung?”
“I don't know,” he grumbled, wiping his eyes. “You seem to like him a lot… and when Felix told me that you were sneaking out to the eastern district, I-I, I just figured you were secretly seeing him, you know… since the barracks are in the east too.”
“Oh Minho,” you thumbed the tear rolling down his cheek, “I didn't even know that the barracks were nearby. I promise that's not what happened. Me and Jisung, um, we talked it out already and there's nothing between us. We haven't actually spoken for ages…”
“I know… I should've known,” he corrected himself, “but I don't want you to cut him off completely, Y/N. I understand that he's someone close to you so please, don't feel like you can't spend any time with him. At least not too much,” he added after a short pause, making you giggle.
“Alright. I appreciate it, Minho.”
Despite Minho initially looking like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, you still felt like something was bothering him. Gently, you nudged him in the side, whispering, “Is that all that was bothering you?”
“Actually,” he breathed out, “it's not. There's so much about you that I don't know. You're such a fucking mystery to me, you know.”
You could hear the frustration in his voice, making the coil in your stomach tighten. Running a hand down his back, you whispered, “what exactly do you want to know?”
“Everything. Like what body wash you use cause it smells fucking amazing,” he grumbled, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.
“Why thank you,” you giggled, attempting a curtsy in your seating position, “I use the same vanilla body wash I've used for my entire life.”
After a moment, his hand reached out for yours, gently interlocking your fingers.
“If I'm being honest, I still don't understand what exactly happened yesterday. Why were you out so late? Where even were you?”
“I was at the orphanage,” you mumbled quietly.
“Come again?”
“I was at the orphanage,” you repeated, this time louder, looking away in embarrassment. "When I found out in what poor conditions the place was, I decided to come every day and help clean the place and teach the kids how to read and count.”
“Of course you did,” Minho breathed out in exasperation. “I was so damn stupid—the missing supplies—I should've realized it was something like that. I know how sweet and selfless you are, Y/N, and trust me, it's one of your most magnificent qualities, but for once, just for once, could you have been a little selfish and thought of yourself?”
“What do you mean–”
“I mean that you shouldn't have stayed so long, but most importantly, you should've defended yourself!” he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he ran his other hand through his hair.
“They say that you're one of the most powerful benders from the Azure kingdom, so how come you didn't do anything to fend them off? They should've been small fish compared to you…”
And there it was. Minho had just asked the million-dollar question that you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks. Your heartbeat quickened as sweat started to gather on your forehead.
“I-I…” you meekly whispered, the words not coming out. Minho noticed the apparent change in demeanor, as well as the way your shoulders began to tremble.
“Hey, it's okay, don't worry. You can tell me anything,” he coaxed you, gently gripping your waist and placing you on his lap. Brushing the hair out of your face, he whispered, “you can lean on me whenever something's bothering you, you know? That's what I'm here for.”
“I lost my p-powers, Minho.”
There… you said it. You uttered the sentence you hoped you would never have to say out loud. You awaited his reaction, the anger, confusion, and frustration that would follow.
Nothing.
Gently peering at him from under your lashes, you found his lips to be curled into a soft smile. Pity, you quickly realized. Oh no, he would break it to you know—the engagement would be broken off, your kingdoms would be at war again, you realized in panic.
“I-I couldn't tell you since I knew how important that aspect was to the royal court. As soon as they find out,” you hiccuped, “they'll formally break off the engagement… and my people… the Azure land c-can't take more war, Minho! We'll be obliterated so please, d-don't—”
“Do you seriously think I would break off the engagement because of that?”
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“Seriously, Y/N, I know I acted like a selfish prick at first, but do you really think that lowly of me? That I'd send you back home along with my army hot on your heels just because of that?”
Your eyes were glossy, “I… I don't know,” you admitted after a while, blinking away the tears. “Everything was fine before, but one day, I just couldn't summon them. And I was too scared to tell anyone since the final clause of the treaty is that the two of us marry and produce a powerful heir that should inherit both our abilities…”
Minho blushed furiously at the mention of an heir, the tips of his ears turning beet red. “I, uh, we'll find a cure, don't worry. If I have to, I'll travel with you far and wide to visit every healer in the kingdom.”
His words soothed your fears as you melted in his embrace. “T-Thank you, Min.”
He softened at the nickname. “Don't worry about it, everything will be okay.”
The two of you sat like that for another couple of minutes, Minho rubbing your back as you calm down from the onslaught of emotions. It was a bit embarrassing for you to cry in front of him, but despite the slight distress, you were glad you got those things off your chest.
And it seemed like it was quite a productive conversation for Minho as well. You could tell that it was rare for him to open up as much as he did. He wasn't used to being vulnerable in front of others, especially after his brother's passing.
Later at night, after he had carried you bridal style to your chambers, he told you that the two of you could visit the orphanage together first thing in the morning. After that, he kissed you on the forehead and wished you sweet dreams.
The cool breeze slipping from the open window made you shiver as you tangled your limbs into the sheets. A particular sentence from Minho had stuck with you, something that he said in between his frustrated exclamations of how careless you were.
“Please, Y/N. I was so scared history would repeat itself. I can't lose another one… I can't lose you…”
. ˚✧・* •
“Here you go,” Minho handed you fresh pastry, paying the woman as the two of you strolled through the market. It was pretty early in the morning, the sun still rising, as you walked hand in hand.
“You can't wear this,” you poked him on the shoulder, “everyone will recognize you.”
“So what? You're not really that incognito yourself,” he pointed at your face. “Soon, everyone in the nation will recognize you as my wife, and therefore, their lawful queen.”
“Minho,” you smacked your lips, hiding your embarrassment. “C'mon, let's go.”
The Minho that stood in front of you now looked quite unlike the Minho you were used to from the palace. His hair was dissheveled, the mop of unruly curls sitting atop his head and glimmering more than any crown could.
He was dressed in simple clothing, natural colors, and clean lines, both of which accentuated his sturdy build and the rugged charm he exuded.
You, on the other hand, were dressed in a plain, beige dress that fit around your body snuggly, a thin, leather belt fastened around your waist.
“Wait a second, I have an idea!” Minho exclaimed, tugging at your belt loop to bring you closer to him. His hand gently brushed against your neck, fingertips igniting all the sensitive nerve endings.
He pulled out a beautiful silken scarf, looping it under your hair before tying a knot, bringing your locks into a ponytail. “There, now you'll fit in.”
On your way to the orphanage, Minho acted as your tour guide, pointing at all the noteworthy monuments and retelling you the history of the city like he was a walking textbook. When you pulled out your trusty leather-bound notebook to take some notes, he immediately asked about its contents, and when he jutted his lower lip, you couldn't deny him.
“Well… it's actually just notes I took on the kingdom's history, culture, and the problem areas. I talked to some of the citizens and asked them about possible areas of friction.”
The memories of your amateur interviews came back to mind, heat rising to your cheeks. Minho seemed awfully intrigued, ears piqued in interest.
“I had told myself that I would bring up these issues once we shared some dinner but since that never happened…”
You trailed off solemnly, causing Minho to wince. He knew it wasn't proper of him to flake out like that but the sudden meeting that Felix sprang on him required his immediate presence.
“Anyways,” you turned the page in your notebook, beginning to read off all of your notes, “I was told multiple times that some of the men in power abuse their status. They leverage things like fresh water and raise taxes and there's no one to stop them.”
Minho frowned at the revelation, unsure of what to say. “That's not all,” you continued, looking him in the eye. “Apparently, you're very hard to reach—countless people have tried to set up an audience with you but they were never allowed—and these are only the few that aren't petrified of you.”
“Hmm, I honestly didn't expect that. Most of the internal affairs like requests for an audience go through a couple of people before they reach me—I'll have to ask them about that.”
Once the two of you reached the orphanage, Minho's hand nervously found yours. You could tell he was beginning to feel anxious, so you resorted to caressing his knuckles with your thumb.
“Don't worry, the kids will love you,” you beamed, brushing a curly lock from in front of his eyes. Minho blushed at the affectionate gesture, your hooded gaze unhelpful to the pink blossom on his cheeks.
“If you say so…”
Tapping your knuckle against the unpolished wood, you knocked a few times. When the door opened, Jihyo popped up from behind, grinning upon seeing you.
“Hey, welcome,” she pulled you into a tight hug. Only then did she notice your companion, welcoming him with a wave. “Are you Y/N's husband?” she gushed, holding the door for the two of you to enter. Heat rose to your cheeks at her words, but Minho simply smirked, “Not yet, but we're engaged.”
“Ah, this is so sweet,” she placed her hand in front of her lips, cooing. “Young love—it's so refreshing to see nowadays.”
As soon as you stepped into the cramped living room, a dozen or so kids immediately flocked to you, welcoming you with a smile.
“Hii, Y/N. Did you bring any sweets?”
“N/N, I missed you so much.”
“Who's this man? Why did he come with you?”
You chuckled at their inquiries, gently stroking their heads. “One by one, guys. I have something for you, don't worry, Gyu,” you nodded towards one of the boys who instantly lightened up, grinning from ear to ear.
“Aww, I missed you too, Rosie,” you hugged the pigtailed girl, turning around to face Minho. “And this is… Lino, he's very excited to meet you all—greet him warmly, please!”
Minho flushed at the nickname, barely concealing the smile that was peaking through his scowl. You laughed at the expression he made, the sound still ringing in his ears hours later like the most beautiful melody.
To see you like this, he couldn't get enough of it. He stood by the large glass window, resting his back against it as he watched you from afar, drunk on the sight. Not that looking at you wasn't a blessing in and of itself—far from that, actually.
Minho used to pride himself on being able to resist all things irresistible.
He learned how to accept defeat, and how to deal with things he never thought he would get in life. How to deal with the repercussions of watching people from afar have what he desperately wanted, but never thought he could have.
A normal, domestic life.
It used to ache him so much… after his brother's untimely death, he was faced with more than one cruel occurrence. He would have to be King. and because of that, any sort of life, with just a semblance of normalcy, should've been ruled out. Right?
Wrong… maybe.
The joyful screams and beams of laughter rang through the air as you chased around with the kids, your dress floating around whimsically. Oh how he longed for you to smile like that in his presence, he longed to be the cause for your happiness, just like these little rascals seemed to be.
The last blow to his already fragile and tender heart was when one of the girls jumped into your arms, which resulted in your holding her like one would hold a newborn, rocking her from side to side. He nearly burst at the sight, mind immediately wandering to what your kids would look like.
‘Fuck,’ he thought. It almost felt like you were doing this to him on purpose, trying to rile him up. He dismissed the idea though when you turned around to face him, a wide, innocent smile on your lips.
“C'mon, Min. Come join us, we're gonna play tag in the backyard!”
And just like that, Minho knew there was no going back.
. ˚✧・* •
“Teach him a lesson!” one of the men shouted, earning himself at least a dozen ‘yeah's’ from the gathered crowd. “Show him how it's done here in the Crimson land!”
Ignoring the hollers, Jisung wiped the blood from his busted lip, straightening up as he waited for the General to strike again. Unfortunately for him, the loud noises around him proved to be detrimental to his ability to focus, slowing down his reaction time.
Another round of applause rumbled as Felix managed to land another blow on him, this time hitting him straight in the jaw.
“You're awfully slow today, aren't you,” he remarked, brows shooting up. Jisung shot him a nasty glare, “And you seem awfully chatty. You think you can manage to win this battle by talking me to death?”
His taunt didn't draw out the reaction he wanted, the General not even blinking. “No, but I might beat you into a pulp if you don't step up your game, loverboy.”
Jisung ground his teeth at the taunt, knowing fully well what Felix was getting at. His irritation must've shown, as the most shit-eating grin appeared on the General's lips.
He just hit the nail in the coffin.
“Don't call me that,” he tried his hardest to sound intimidating, but it rather had the opposite effect. “Why shouldn't I? Isn't that who you are—a guard helplessly in love with the Princess? You must know that relationships like these are merely fantasies, right?”
When the lieutenant didn't answer, he continued, still watching his moves with a hawk eye. “Face, it—you'll never get–”
And that was all it took for Jisung to clench his fists
It wasn't for about ten minutes that Felix was declared the official winner of the match as he landed the final blow, punching his opponent in the gut. Jisung was sent flying across the makeshift ring, coughing up a bit of blood.
As he sat on the dirty floor, surrounded by a few dozen men, soldiers and farmers alike, he felt like the ground should swallow him up alive. His cheeks were warm, a soft shade of red blossoming from his neck upwards. Whether it was from the exertion his body went through or the bustling humiliation coursing his veins, he couldn't tell.
Tears welled up in his eyes making him hiccup, his lashes fluttering as Felix delivered the last kick… Before he could splutter out the words to give up, the ground was torn from under his wobbly feet and everything went black.
. ˚✧・* •
“Your Majesty!”
The loud knock wakes you from your peaceful slumber, a tired groan escaping your lips. “Coming,” you muttered, slinging your legs over the edge of the bed.
You paddled on your bare feet towards the wooden door, opening it to come face to face with one of the guards. Immediately, you felt a twinge of embarrassment as you realized that you were only wearing your silken night slip. The guard, however, didn't react in any sort of way, handing you a large rose bouquet wrapped indelicate wrapping paper.
“His Majesty ordered for this to be delivered to you,” he noted, before bowing down and walking away. The heat rose to your cheeks as you stood in the doorway with the large assortment of flowers, startled to the core.
You never would've pegged Minho as the romantic type…
Inside your room, you placed the bouquet on the table, noticing that a small, paper note had been attached to one of the flowers. Your fingers worked gently to unfold it, reading the contents in one go.
For Princess Y/N,
I hope you like them, sweetheart ♥ can't wait for our dinner tomorrow…
LMH
. ˚✧・* •
Later that day, you and Minho bumped into each other during lunchtime, and he suggested that the two of you grab something from the kitchen and sneak out on the balcony to eat.
“I looked over the issue with Count Choi and Viscount Kim,” he mentioned after swallowing down the last piece of the chicken pie. “Indeed, the two of them had gotten many complaints on how they ruled their regions; I can't believe this hasn't been brought to my attention.” his fists clenched, showing how frustrated he was with the situation.
“There's nothing we can do about that now, Minho. I'm just happy that we found out. It seems like this is a recurring pattern thought…” you trailed off solemnly, gazing at the city.
“Yeah. I'll have to have a little talk with some of the men in the Royal Court—this behavior is unacceptable.”
“It's good to know that you are interested in these things, I can tell that you care.”
Minho looked away, trying not to seem fazed by your words. His hand found its way onto yours, gently enveloping your palm, causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine.
“I'm also looking into what can be done for the orphanage,” he relaxed his posture, tipping his head towards the blue sky. “So far, it seems that they lack mostly funding, so I'm going over it with the palace accountant—it seems like we'll be able to give them a more than healthy sum every month that should be more than enough to run the place smoothly. They should also be able to afford to employ one or two more people to keep the place running.”
Your smile brightened at the thought of Jiyho having some support, both financial and physical. She worked herself nearly to death, doing everything she could to keep the place going.
“Thank you, Minho,” you whispered, your words barely audible.
The Sun was glimmering, painting the sky in hues of gold. You gazed into the distance, a sense of newfound longing in your heart. “The sky's beautiful, isn't it?” you entwined your hand with his, voicing out your thoughts.
“Not as beautiful as you are,” came his breathless response. Your heartbeat quickened in surprise as you slowly turned around to face him. His lips were gently parted as he gazed at you with an intensity you've never seen before like you held the entire Milky Way in your eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks, your fingers numbly clutching onto the hem of your gown.
“You know you're the smartest, kindest, most stunning woman in the entire kingdom?”
You spluttered, unsure of how to respond to his words. The weight of his compliments hung in the air, an unexplainable tension forming between the two of you. Minho's gaze softened at your bashfulness, hand cupping your face.
“I mean that, you know,” his thumb gently stroked your cheek, causing you to nearly melt from his mere touch. “I know it's been difficult for you to adjust to your new life, but I want you to know that I'm so proud of you.”
A shiver ran down your spine, lashes fluttering at the pretext of what was going to happen next.
“I've been waiting for this for so damn long,” as if on cue, Minho breathed out, his warm breath fanning your cheek. You could almost feel the plush of his oh-so-soft lips on yours, excitement running through your veins.
Yet it seemed like the universe had a personal vendetta against you when you heard the door crash open.
“Your Majesty!” a guard in his early twenties burst in, bowing down.
You instantly jumped away from Minho, flustered from the sudden interruption. On the other hand, Minho's reaction was completely opposite to yours.
“What is it?” he grumbled, a light blush blossoming on his cheeks. Why did this always happen to him?
“We have just received a report that a famine had broken out in the northern villages. The last few caravans sent by Your Majesty had been attacked, resulting in there not being enough resources to keep the people in the area fed.”
A beat of silence followed before any of you spoke, the guard promptly excusing himself and leaving the two of you to wallow in the remains of the depressing statement. Your hand was still holding on to his, so you could feel the way he tensed. His brows were drawn together, lips set in a firm line as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.
“Minho,” you tried to gently call his name, rubbing his back in hopes of soothing his anxieties. You were worried too, but you could tell how much more this affected him, despite his best efforts to hide it.
“Y/N,” he nervously bit down on his lip, “I know we were going to spend some time together—”
“Go,” you reassured him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I understand that this is a situation of utmost importance.”
His expression relaxed into a smile. “Thank you, I appreciate you being so understanding.”
“Oh please,” you waved him off, “it's nothing. I would gladly accompany you if you'd like, but I fear I would mainly impose…”
“Nonsense,” he held out his hand for you to take, like a true gentleman. “I'd welcome your presence. Besides, it's about time that the officials start getting used to seeing you around—after all—you don't think I'll the only one to decide on all the matters, don't you?” he grinned.
“If that's the case, I'd love to come.”
. ˚✧・* •
The air in the council chambers was as suffocating as the freezing winters of your land.
The room was laid out rather nicely, you presume. A voluminous ornate table at which all the council members gathered, large windows allowing copious amounts of sunlight to stream in through, and elegant paintings of the entire royal bloodline hanging off the walls.
Minho, as the Crown Prince and rightful heir to the throne, occupied the head of the table, and with the crown perched on top of his head, he looked more like the menacing ruler everyone made him out to be. You were sat right by his side, ears piqued as you listened intently to their conversation.
“Councilman Moon,” Minho's voice bounced off the walls, the authoritative edge ever so present. “I don't understand the point you are making. There's a famine breaking out—in what world is that not a priority matter for us to discuss?”
“If I may,” you intervene, gathering the attention of the rest of the councilmembers and Minho himself.
“Of course, Princess,” he spoke softly as if reassuring you with the gentlest of smiles.
“Thank you. So I wanted to follow up on what the Prince had said,” you brought your hands from your lap to the table. “Allowing a famine to spread would be way too risky—especially once it spirals out of control… Trust me, I have seen my Kingdom nearly fall apart due to there not being enough resources,” your brows furrowed at the unpleasant memories. “And that's not to mention that it would be a terrible decision to make, morally speaking.”
One of the men let out a distasteful scoff, and everyone's gazes immediately focused on him.
“Is there something amusing that you'd like to share with the rest of us, councilman Jung?” Minho snarled in his direction.
“Not exactly, Your Majesty. I merely believe that the Princess shouldn't speak on matters she outside of her scope of understanding.”
Before Minho could respond, you cut in. “Why do you believe that I possess no understanding of this topic? I have seen what hunger had done to my people, and I merely want to prevent history from repeating itself here.”
“What do you propose we do then, Your Majesty?” one of the kinder council members spoke up, intrigue lacing his tone.
“Well, first of all, I'd suggest that each caravan carrying supplies is accompanied by a small cell of soldiers that will make sure that no one comes to harm and that the supplies will be safely delivered to their final destination.”
Immediately, councilman Jung interrupted you, fiery gaze piercing through you.
“And where do you suggest we find all these soldiers? Trained men do not grow on trees, Your Majesty.”
“There's plenty of soldiers in the barracks right now, if I'm not mistaken,” you retorted, challenging him. “The war has ended, which means that most of the troops are now back home. Undoubtedly, there should be enough manpower to make sure that basic resources are redistributed in the land, isn't that correct?”
“Indeed, it may appear so, but what if conflict won't cease? The union has not yet been officially consummated, so who's to say what may or may not happen?”
Silence followed, and you were sure that if you tried, you would've heard a pin drop.
“E-Excuse me?” you managed to stutter after a while, frustration and confusion mingling inside of you. “What do you mean by that?”
“Yeah,” Minho cut in angrily, “what do you mean by that, councilman Jung? ‘Cause if I remember correctly, you were the same person that suggested we force the Azure kingdom to surrender since you believed that they would not agree to our terms. But they have, and Princess Y/N seated here beside us is living proof of that.”
“O-Of course, Your Majesty, I didn't mean to—”
“Not to mention that I do not appreciate your accusatory and rude tone. You spoke as if doubting the validity of this union. The official wedding ceremony will be held shortly, but that doesn't give you a reason to spout such denunciatory ies.”
The rest of the council was quiet, everyone holding their breaths as they watched the brawl between the cantankerous councilman and the Prince.
“To bring this meeting to an end, I propose that we go with the Princess' idea. She made many righteous points and I believe that this is the minimum we can do for our entire nation to remain prosperous.” he shot councilman Jung a venomous glare, effectively silencing him.
“And lastly, I would like to add something that should have been obvious in the first place.”
Scanning the room, eyes lingering on each and every one of the men present. “In no way are you to ever disrespect the Princess in such a manner, have I made myself clear?”
“Transparent, Your Majesty.”
. ˚✧・* •
The man ground his teeth, nervously walking around the room with his hand curled in his hair. This wasn't what he wanted to hear on a fine Saturday morning, not at all.
A guard slipped into his room, handing him the folded piece of paper and whispering in his ear. “Everything will go according to plan. He folded under the pressure immediately and agreed to do as you say.”
At least there was some good news.
. ˚✧・* •
The Sun had already begun to set when you started to get ready for your much-anticipated dinner. Despite how excited and giddy you were, the anxiousness stored in the back of your mind prevailed, causing you to stress unnecessarily.
You opted to prepare another cup of fresh tea, the healer having brought another batch. It was an improved recipe, he told you, and before you even took a sip, you could smell the sharp scent of apricots filling your nostrils.
A few isolated petals of a blush pink hue floated amongst the mostly-clear liquid. You downed most of the tea in a long, drawn-out gulp. The loud ticking of the clock reminded you that you were indeed on a time crunch, so you stood up, heading towards your closet to pull out the prized item of clothing.
Placing the red gown against your body, you twirled around like a giggly twelve-year-old, your heart racing at what would become of today's evening. You gently peeled off your simple dress, slipping into the bright-red one. Shivers ran down your spine as the satin made contact with your heated skin, leaving a blissful trail of tranquility.
You tied the bow at the back, tightening the gown at your waist before looking in the mirror, a pleased smile forming on your lips.
All that was left now was to tie your hair into a slightly more intricate updo that you would usually do, followed by a light spritz of your favorite vanilla-scented perfume.
A sudden wave of nausea crashed over you.
You had to bring your back against the wall, inhaling deeply to calm your erratic heartbeat. ‘Everything will be okay,’ you tried to tell yourself, pressing your hands to your cheeks. There was no reason to be worried, but then why was your heart racing like a horse running through a field?
It was one of those… that supposed gut feeling that you've heard, even read of. But you merely ignored it, sliding on a plain, gold bracelet around your wrist that matched the golden hems and stitchings of your dress.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of your chambers, both excitement and qualm coursing through your veins.
. ˚✧・* •
The halls were unusually empty, void of the customary liveliness and buzz you had attuned to.
The sleeves of your gown draped over your shoulders comfortably as you walked towards the grand dining room where you were supposed to meet Minho.
You nearly felt on top of the world, so much having changed since you first arrived. It felt like you finally had something to look forward to in this union—perhaps—that you wouldn't be shackled to a loveless marriage as you had previously believed.
The room was just a few more turns away. You could already smell the unmistakable aroma of brassiered chicken and many other southern delicacies.
As the tip of your foot made contact with the ground, you felt like the world was being torn from under your feet. With a quiet gasp, you folded over like a ragdoll, falling limply to the ground. A sudden burst of cramps ramped through you, causing you to convulse on the floor, hoarse cries of pain leaving your dry lips.
Once the sudden rupture of pain came to a stop, you nearly moaned in relief. Sweat lined at your forehead as your hands tried to grasp against the marble floor, attempting to support you into a seating position. But to no avail.
It took approximately a minute or two for the world around you to go pitch black.
. ˚✧・* •
Tick tock.
Minho watched the grandfather clock tick on the wall, brows furrowing at your absence. It was currently six-forty… you were ten minutes late. If it weren't for the dozen or so maids and cooks lining the wall of the dining room, he wouldn't have been as worried as he was now.
‘News traveled fast,’ he recalled, and what other new gossip could there be on a fine Saturday evening if not something as scandalous as the Crown Princess standing up her fiancé.
It was highly unusual for you to be late, that was what struck him first. What's more, it would be nearly unheard of for you to turn up late knowing how important today's dinner was for your image, especially amongst the palace staff.
Adjusting the collar of his crisp white blouse underneath his navy suit, he swallowed thickly, brushing off the nonexistent dust from his pressed pants. The golden fastenings of his jacket clinked, grabbing the attention of the people around him.
He nervously bit down on his lip, ignoring the curious glances from some of the younger maids as he kept his eyes trained on the clock. He knew that there was one more thing on their minds right now, and it was undoubtedly the odd color of his outfit.
It was unusual for a Crimson ruler to adorn the colors of the perceived enemy. He was taking a huge gamble by wearing navy, but he had hoped that the sightings of the two of you each wearing the other nation's colors would stir something within the people.
‘I hope you comes soon,’ he thought, sighing at the sight of the now cold food…
. ˚✧・* •
Jisung was walking down the hall when he suddenly noticed something peeking from around the corner. It was a small tuft of red fabric, or at least it seemed like it from afar.
He began walking briskly towards the spot—it was highly unusual for the palace floors to be littered with anything, having been cleaned multiple times a day. As he was getting closer and closer, he could see more of this supposed ‘piece of cloth’, rather, it was beginning to look more like… an arm?
His eyes widened in surprise, mouth ajar as an unconscious body came into view, limbs twisted under a gorgeous red gown.
“Y/N?!” he cried when he finally recognized you, his insides clenching at the sight. Your lips were parted, a sliver of drool on your cheeks. Nearly instantly (or as quickly as his shocked state allowed him to), he bent down to your level, fingers pressing to your neck to check your pulse.
‘Thank god,’ he thought, feeling the albeit slowed drumming of your heart. His hands slid under your body, hoisting you up with a grunt. His stomach was still aching from having been kicked there repeatedly by the General, but the adrenaline proved to do wonders for him once again as he briskly walked down the hall, heading for your bed chambers.
When he passed a maid, he immediately ordered, “The Princess is unconscious! Go get the palace healer and inform His Majesty about it.”
The girl hastily nodded, running off in what he presumed to be the direction of the infirmary.
. ˚✧・* •
For the nth time in the past few weeks, Minho felt his heart plummet to the depths of the sea. There was a weird buzz in his head, one that drowned out everything else, as the last bits of cohesion exited his body.
He had just been informed that you were taken into the infirmary by Jisung and that he requested for him to come as soon as possible.
When he had hoped there was a solid reason as to why you didn't arrive, this wasn't what he had meant.
Before he even knew it, his legs were carrying him in the direction of your bed chambers, heart erratically pounding against his ribcage. His ears suddenly picked up on what seemed to be an argument between two males. The closer he got to your room, the louder he heard one of them scream while the other begged for him to stop.
What the hell was going on?
His question was answered as soon as he burst through the door, panting, eyes scanning the room. He noticed you lying on the bed, frumpled, with your limbs curled under the sheets. Your face displayed a twisting of emotions, mainly pain, and exhaustion and it looked like you were knee-deep in a living nightmare.
Before he could come up to you and check how you were doing, he noticed something that concerned him highly.
In the corner of the room kneeled Jisung, pressing Seungmin to the floor, rage written all over his face. The healer underneath him thrashed in his hold, begging to be released.
“I'll ask you again: what the fuck did you put in that cup?” he growled in his ear, twisting his arms against his back. Seungmin writhed, bitting down on his lip. “I-I didn't do anything—you must've been mistaken!”
The two of them seems so engrossed in the brawl that they didn't even notice the Prince standing above them, livid.
“What's going on?”
His tone was dripping in authoritativeness, anger licking away at his insides. Both Seungmin and Jisung immediately snapped their heads towards the Prince, the latter spluttering to form a coherent answer.
“I brought Y/N inside and asked for them to call for you and a healer. This guy over here tried sneaking something into her water while I was tending to her.”
Minho's eye twitched as he glanced at Seungmin with newfound anger. “Is that true, Seungmin? Should I expect the palace healer to sneak things into people's drinks now?”
“Y-Your Majesty, I-I was merely…”
“You were merely what, Seungmin? I'm dying to know here,” he replied venomously.
“I-I… okay, I admit I did it, okay?” he suddenly burst out, tears streaming down his cheeks. Both Minho and Jisung watched him, stunned.
“You admit to what?” Jisung grabbed him by the collar, lifting him up until he was facing him directly. “What did you do?”
“I… the General… he,” Seungmin hiccuped, “He threatened me and my family. He said he would make me and my family suffer if I didn't…”
Minho clenched his fists, nearly growling, “What did he tell you to do? Answer me!” All of his attention was on the young healer, rage coursing through him.
“He made me add poison to her tea!”
Silence. If he had tried, he could've heard a pin drop.
Then, all the muscles in his face contorted into a mask of pure fury and disgust. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, nearly drawing blood as he pushed Jisung away, grabbing the trembling healer and pinning him against the wall.
His stare was icy, venomous, even but what scared Seungmin, even more, was the calmness in his voice when he spoke, “What did you put in her tea?”
“I-I'm not sure… the General just gave me a s-small pouch of flowers and told me to add it to her tea mixture. I r-really don't know, please…” he cowered under his stare, trembling.
His pathetic sobs were interrupted by a loud cough coming from your bed. Minho immediately let go, running towards you as Seungmin's body slumped to the ground, quiet sobs wracking through him.
“Y/N,” he called out for you, gently moving your head to the side so you were facing him. Your cheeks were warm, just like the rest of your body, and you felt unimaginably dizzy like the entire world was spinning around you.
“M-Minho,” you croaked, pupils dilating as you clutched onto his hand like it was your lifebuoy. “I-I feel sick…”
His heart cracked upon hearing your voice… so broken. “I-I…”
Before he could even say anything, something burst through the door, causing him to look up.
Or rather, someone.
“What happened?” Chan panted, directing the question at Jisung, but Minho was the one who answered, bsikly explaining what he had heard from Jisung and the servant.
“The Princess was poisoned?” a higher voice shouted in disbelief, only coming to view as she stepped out from behind Chan, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
Minho seemed to recognize her from passing, but couldn't exactly place her face. Her hair was swept into a simple bun and she was dressed in a plain dress with an apron, making Minho believe she was one of the maids.
“I-I, uh, if I may, Your Majesty,” she gestured in your general direction, averting the Prince's eyes. “May I have a look? I have some knowledge in toxins and maybe I could…”
“Please,” he cut her off weakly, “Go ahead.”
Yuna crouched down beside you, wiping the sweat off your forehead with her sleeve. “How are you feeling, Your Majesty?”
“Y-Yuna,” you smiled at her, hand reaching to grab hers. “How have you been?”
“I'm sorry, I don't think it's the proper time to discuss this now,” she turned around at the three men behind her. “Please bring me some water and a clean cloth.”
Once Chan handed her the filled washbasin and a rag, she dipped the fabric in the water and placed it over your forehead.
“I'll need you to tell me exactly how you're feeling…”
You began to describe the type of pain you're going through, the nausea, and the pounding of your head. Yuna took notice of the way your pupils dilated, the gears in her head spinning as she tried to figure out what could've caused your poisoning. After all, the first step to finding an antidote was identifying the poison.
Suddenly, she turned around with a jerk, scanning the room. “Do you still have the mug she drank the tea from?”
Jisung immediately sprung up, grabbing two that were on your table and handing them over to the girl.
“It's useless,” Seungmin rasped from the corner of the room, guilt written all over his face. “The General was positive that it would be over once she drank it,” he supplied unhelpfully, ignoring the nasty glares he received.
Despite the healers' words, Yuna looked inside the first mug, frowning when she saw nothing. It was empty. When she began inspecting the second one, a gasp erupted from her throat as she dropped it.
The ceramic mug shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces.
“T-That was a petal from…” she turned around to look at them, all hanging on her lips. “T-The Nerium Oleander…”
Chan frowned darkly, having heard the name somewhere before. “Isn't that the flower they used to poison—”
“Y-Yeah… it's how the Prince of the West was poisoned hundreds of years ago.”
Minho glowered, remembering the story from a passage in his history book. It was the most infamous case of poisoning, something remembered by all. His heart clenched at the thought of you facing the same end.
“I-Isn't there anything you can do?” he pleaded, voice cracking midway as he glanced back at you, tossing and turning in your bed.
“I—” she bit down on her lip, eyebrows furrowing as she racked her brain for a solution.
“I'm not sure about this,” she began, running a hand through her hair, “But I believe I read about garlic having particularly good antitoxins for poisonings such as this one.”
“Whatever you need, tell me… I'll bring it to you,” Minho pleaded.
“Okay. I'll need a few cloves of garlic, some activated charcoal, and a medicine trunk—preferably the one from the main infirmary.”
. ˚✧・* •
An excruciating ten minutes later, Minho returned, panting. He handed Yuna all the things and she immediately got to work, carefully propping you against the headboard. Your head lolled to the side, eyes struggling to stay open.
She added a spoonful of the black powder into a cup of water, thoroughly mixing it. When it all dissolved, she pressed the cup to your lips, gently tipping your head backward. “You have to drink this, Your Majesty.”
In your weakened state, you gulped down the dark liquid, gagging at the nasty texture. Once you finished, Yuna handed you a glass of plain water which you gratefully accepted. “This will make sure you get the full dose,” she explained.
“Now,” she chopped up the garlic into thin pieces, placing it in the mortar with some other herbs, “I'll prepare this paste for you to eat. It won't be tasty, but it should hopefully combat the toxins from the oleander.”
Once finished preparing created the foul-smelling paste, she fed it to you in spoonfuls. You groggily swallowed it down, clutching onto the sheets with newfound vigor. Who knew, maybe you'd even survive this ordeal…
You took the moment to survey the room, finally feeling conscious enough to gather what had exactly gone down. You saw Seungmin crouched in the corner of the room, head in his hands. Chan and Jisung were sitting by the table, both distressed.
Last but not least, Minho was standing, his back propped against the wall. His hair was disheveled, matted locks pressed to his forehead and a singular tear ran down his cheek, causing your heart to shatter.
It took you a few moments to register what he was wearing. The navy suit hugged his body and showed off his built physique, the golden fastenings only adding to the whole visage. It dawned upon you that he'd chosen to wear your nation's colors, just like you would've worn the scarlet dress.
“Minho,” you suddenly croaked, catching the attention of everyone in the room. The Prince's head snapped toward you, eyes watering. He immediately ran to your bed, kneeling beside you as he grabbed your hand in his, gently intertwining your fingers with his.
“How are you feeling?”
A loud cough tore from your throat, promptly providing him with an answer. “Oh, Y/N… everything will be okay, alright? I-I promise…”
Then he turned around, gaze hardening. “Captain,” he looked at Chan, hands clenching into fists. “I want you to go find General Lee and arrest him at once.”
Venom was dripping from his tone, and Chan immediately understood that this wasn't just a question. It was a command.
“Where should I put him, Your Majesty?”
“The dungeon,” he muttered darkly. “I want him locked up with all the criminals he had put behind bars himself.”
Chan saluted, running off to find the General.
Meanwhile, Yuna finished preparing the antidote, a sigh of relief escaping her parted lips. “I'm done, Your Majesty. Quickly, we don't have much time to spare.”
You promptly opened your mouth, allowing her to feed you spoonfuls of the potent mixture. Your gag reflex was activated as soon as the bitter flavor attacked your tastebuds, but knowing what would happen if you refused, you involuntarily swallowed down every last bit.
“Water, p-please,” you whimpered, suddenly feeling like you would throw up. Minho jumped to his feet, filling up the cup from the pitcher and bringing it to your lips. He benevolently tipped the cup, supporting the back of your head with his palm. As you greedily gulped down the liquid, he threaded his fingers between your locks, tenderly massaging your scalp.
“What should we do now?” he asked Yuna, placing the cup on the nightstand. The girl looked at him with wide eyes, nervously twirling a strand of hair between her finger.
“Now… now we wait. If I did everything correctly, the antidote should be contouring the poison. Her Majesty will have to rest for a few days, that's for sure—no exerting her mind or body—but after that, she should make a full recovery. But if I didn't…”
“No,” he cut her off. “Don't say that. I'm sure you did everything that you could and I trust you, alright?”
She smiled weakly. “Thank you.”
“You should go rest up. I'll stay here with Y/N and make sure everything is alright. I'll call for you if anything happens.”
. ˚✧・* •
The following days were some of the hardest moments in Minho's life.
However, the excruciating pain he went through while having to watch you writhe in discomfort didn't compare to the suffering you had to be going through.
Despite his exhaustion showing in many ways, namely the dark circles under his eyes and his clothes sticking to his sweaty body. All and all, he felt almost disgusting, but he refused to leave you side for more than a few minutes.
After a few days, it was obvious that you would make a recovery. Minho nearly weeped in joy when you suddenly sat up, looking him dead in the eye as you muttered, “You stink.”
He breathed out a short laugh, a light, husky sound that you thought was beautiful.
“How are you feeling?” he then asked, eyes watering as he took in your whole body, relief washing over him.
“I'm fine, just a bit numb,” you answered truthfully, lifting your hand above your head in an attempt to stretch your sore muscles. “Although I am craving some chicken pie…”
Minho chuckled, patting the top of your head with a gentle laugh. “On it!”
It was later that night that you realized how incredibly lucky you were as the two of you each enjoyed a few slices of chicken pie.
. ˚✧・* •
“Please, Minho,” you stubbornly jutted your lower lip, throwing your sock-clad feet in the air as you watched your fiancé button up his blouse. His expression remained stone-cold, but you could already see the cracks in his resolve.
“Why won't you let me come see him? If I'm going to be the Queen, I should at least be able to face my enemies, don't you think?” And in a much quieter tone, you added, “I'd at least want to know what made him hate me enough to try to poison me…”
“Y/N,” Minho sighed, rubbing his temples. “I really don't think it's a good idea for you to see him right now—you're supposed to be resting, remember?”
“I know,” you groaned, “but it's been over a week—I'm fine now, okay? Besides,” you gave a lopsided smirk, “If you don't want me to exert myself, you can always just carry me there…”
Minho blushed at your words, clumsily buttoning the last button up on his shirt. “I, uh, still… I really don't like the idea of you being in the vicinity of that bastard.”
With the way his brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a thought popped up in your head. “By any chance… you didn't,” the words dried in your mouth, “you didn't hurt him, did you?”
The Prince immediately understood what you meant by the word hurt. You were asking him if he had tortured, or perhaps even killed the young General who had dared to commit the highest form of treason. To be fair, Minho had all the prerogative to do as he pleased with him after he'd attempted a hand at the future Queen's life.
A slow, controlled breath left his lips. “No, I didn't. I had thought about it though, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't even bring myself to face him. The two of us grew up together for God's sake.”
You could hear the frustration in his tone as you gently rubbed his back in hopes of soothing his nerves. “But you know what angers me the most?”
Knowing that it was a rhetorical question, you didn't answer, allowing him to continue. “I hate the fact that I didn't see it coming. I noticed that he behaved a bit weird around you, but I chalked it up to him looking out for me, wanting to make sure I marry someone he deemed worthy…”
“Minho, please, don't blame yourself for something that was out of your control. It's no surprise that you didn't see it coming—nobody suspects the people closest to them, that's just how it is.”
“I know,” he released a shaky breath, “But I can't help but feel like I failed you.”
“Oh please,” your hand reached to cup his cheek, “Don't say that. Now let's go, I think there's a General waiting for us to visit.”
“Alright, but you have to promise me one thing, okay?”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, suppressing the smirk that formed at the corners of your mouth. “Sure.”
“Stay behind me at all times, alright? The dungeon's a dangerous place and knowing that you'll be going there without being able to protect yourself makes my skin crawl.”
“Okay,” you breathed out, “I'll stay by your side.”
. ˚✧・* •
The stairs leading to the dungeon were dark and damp, the pungent smell of mold causing your nostrils to flare. Minho was walking in front of you, your hand clasped in his as he carefully guided you down the spiral staircase.
Once you arrived, your eyes flew from one side to the other, taking in the crumbling stone walls.
There were about a dozen or so cells in the dungeon, and only about half of them were occupied. On the far left, you spotted a mop of silver curls, akin to Felix's. You quietly pointed in that direction, whispering, “Is that him?”
“Yeah.”
Slowly but surely, Minho walked up to his old friend, an odd sense of fake confidence to his steps. You trailed behind him, fire in your eyes as you awaited the moment you'd come face to face with the man who plotted your near-murder.
The closer you came, the more your heart plummeted in your chest. The heels of your boots clanked against the cold stone, complimenting the pitter-patter of the water draining down the sewage system.
“General Lee,” Minho spat out venomously, hand reaching to push you behind his body. You nearly rolled your eyes at his protectiveness, but you found it endearing nonetheless.
Felix's head was slumped down, facing the ground as the two of you approached. More than two weeks had passed since his arrest, and the harsh conditions of the dungeon were beginning to take an evident toll on him.
“Felix,” you finacé called again after he didn't respond, worry beginning to show on his face. “Answer me.”
Slowly but surely, the General raised his head, not bothering to straighten his posture that was held down by the shackles holding his wrists above his head. His bloodshot eyes were oddly glassy, a shiver running down your spine once you made eye contact.
“Well well… to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Minho growled, “don't be cheeky with me, Felix. Not after you've committed the highest form of treason.”
The man attempted to raise his hands up in defense, an apologetic smile appearing on his lips when he was stopped mid-way by the bounds on his wrists. “Then why has the royal couple decided to pay me a visit?”
“You should already know by now,” Minho clenched his fists, tearing his gaze from his once close friend, “that I want answers. I want to know what made you do the things you did, Felix?”
The frustration in his tone was evident, and you wished you could just take him from this place. Your earlier need to see Felix face to face diminished into dust.
“You know,” Felix suddenly spoke up, his grave tone echoing in the dimly-lit room, “I've always been jealous of what you had.”
After a short pause, he continued. “The money, the fame, the love… it felt like you had the entire world at your fingertips, while I had to wrestle through all the stages of life with nothing to my name… not even a home to return to.”
“Felix… I-I—”
“No, Your Majesty,” Felix cut him off pointedly. “This isn't just about poor orphaned Felix. No. This about who made me an orphan in the first place!”
To say that Minho was stunned would be a gross understatement. His eyes were filled with confusion as he peered down at the man he once considered his closest friend. The two of them grew up nearly side by side, and if it weren't for Minho’s royal duties kicking in prematurely due to his older brother's death, they likely would've been even closer.
“I-I don't understand… if you hated me so much, why did you pretend to be my friend all your life? Not to mention, why were you after Y/N in the first place? She didn't do anything!”
The tremor in his voice became clearer, something that you noticed when his hands began shaking. “I still don't get it, Felix… you tried to kill her for fucks sake! When she didn't do anything to deserve it…”
Suddenly, he looked straight at you, locking eyes with you as he snarled, something akin to anger and resentment bubbling up in his throat. “Maybe she didn't, but her worthless scummy people definitely did.”
Felix's eyes darkened with an emotion you weren't able to place, and if looks could kill, both you and Minho would be six feet under.
“You know,” he growled, hands jerking in the binds, “our father was a real piece of work.”
“Our? What the hell are you talking about, Felix,” Minho snapped in bewilderment. What was going on? Why was he feeling like he was about to hear something he didn't like?
“He thought he got rid of all of them,” his voice cracked midway, causing your heart to shatter. “B-But my mother managed to run away with me and hide near the northern border.”
Finally finding your voice, you whispered, “A-Are you trying to say that—”
Instead of answering your question, Felix's hands burst into flames, the fiery inferno licking away at the metal cuffs. A maniacal laugh tore from his throat, causing you to freeze in your spot.
The metal binds around his wrists began to melt, silver liquid dripping down on the floor. His eyes were darkened, and frankly, it was the most scared you'd felt in your life. Utterly terrified would fit better.
The General, after having regained footing, walked up to the metal bars, the only thing separating him from you and Minho. A lopsided smirk appeared on his face as he whispered, “didn't realize you had a younger brother, did you, Minho?”
The way he said his name… you could tell it stupified the Prince. His eyes were wide, hands trembling as he stood rooted to his spot, unable to tear his eyes from the sight in front of him. Hearing Felix address him like that sure did a number on him, especially hearing the venom dripping from his tone.
It was like he was talking to a completely different person.
His lips parted, and in a soft breath, he whispered, “Do you know what happened to us after that?”
A gentle shake of the head was enough of an indicator for him to continue. “The Azure soldiers raided the village and killed my mother. I was locked in the basement as she let out her last breath.”
And then, almost instantly, fire erupted in his eyes. He grinned uncontrollably, hand surging forward as a mass of fire, shaped into a sharp dagger cut through the air.
“NO!” you screamed, realizing what he was about to do. Your hand shot forward, grabbing onto your fiancé's tunic, and in a frenzy, you pulled back, both of you falling to the ground.
You winced under his weight, wheezing before you noticed the small burn mark on Minho's cheek. He was dumbfoundedly rubbing at the gash as if he was still processing what had just happened, blood seeping through his fingers.
By now, the guards must have had heard the hubbub as a dozen or so soldiers ran down, bursting through the door and making quick work of restraining the former General.
And what worried you the most was how easily he let them take hold of him. Not once did he attempt to fight back, even though you were positive that he could've obliterated them with his newly-revealed powers. And even without them, General Felix was undoubtedly one of the most feared swordsmen and fighters in the nation.
As two of the guards escorted you and Minho out of the dungeon, you couldn't help but turn around one last time, catching Felix's smug leer.
“This isn't over,” he mouthed with a grin, holding your gaze for a few more seconds before one of the guards rammed his head into the cobblestone.
. ˚✧・* •
The chirping outside the window caused you to stir in your sleep, sighing as you cuddled back into your fiancé's toned chest.
“Are you awake?” his raspy woke you up, a whine escaping your lips. “As a matter of fact, I wasn't…”
A throaty chuckle left his parted lips, a sound you found wholly attractive, but you'd never tell him that. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to him, enjoying the warmth he exuded. It was on days like these that you were grateful that Minho slept shirtless.
After the unpleasant incident with Felix in the dungeons, he insisted on taking an entire week off. It was something that the two of you desperately needed—some alone time to heal from the unsettling experience.
All and all, you were happy Minho had made that choice. The two of you got to spend loads of quality time together, indulging in each other's presence. The mornings were particularly nice, especially when Minho pampered you with kisses, his wolfish hands running all over your body.
“Did you drink your medicine yesterday?” he murmured in your ear.
“Yes, mom,” you rolled your eyes. He had been asking you the exact same question for the past week, making sure you drank the herbal mixture that would revert the toxins from the poisoned tea you had been unknowingly drinking.
A sudden smack echoed through the room.
“Minho,” you cried, rubbing your sore bottom. “That hurt!”
The Prince chuckled, a teasing grip on his lips. “Oops, my bad.”
Turning around, you stared him in the eye, pouting. “You just wanted an excuse to slap my butt, didn't you?”
He huffed in response, “Please, that was just a light tap.”
Despite your best efforts to hide the corners of your mouth lifted up into a smile, “Two can play this game, you know?”
Minho's eyes widened when you reached out your arm and smacked his bum. “Ouch! That's not fair, you hit me a lot harder!”
His whines were cut short as a sudden knock sounded through the room. The both of you stilled, holding in the bursts of laughter. Something like this was always bound to happen at the funniest moments.
“What is it?” Minho called, too lazy to get out of bed. His hand was gently stroking your cheek, a gesture that always made you melt into his touch.
“Your Majesty! The dressmakers will arrive shortly. Where should we house them?”
“Give them one of the larger rooms in the southern wing. You can tell them that Her Majesty will be ready at noon.”
You grasped Minho's hand in yours, entwining your fingers. “The dressmakers?”
“Yeah. I requested the most famous tailor to design your wedding dress. She only works with the highest quality fabrics and is known throughout the kingdom.”
“Minho,” you murmured. “You didn't have to go that far. If it came down to it, I'd marry you in a jute bag if I had to. ”
“Nonsense,” he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, heat rising to your face. “I only want the best for my angel.”
“Ever the romantic,” you snorted, pulling him closer. Your nose bumped into his collar bones, inhaling the scent of his musky cologne.
“Only for you, baby.”
After a while, Minho dragged you out of bed, claiming that the two of you needed to go on with your days. You enjoyed a hearty breakfast before you were forced to separate—you heading towards the dressmaker while Minho went to take care of some paperwork.
. ˚✧・* •
“Your Majesty,” the woman, Chaeryoung, greeted you with a curtsy, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. Even at first sight, you could tell that she had impeccable taste. Her gown looked like something straight out of a fairytale causing you to open your mouth in awe.
Clasping her hands together, she chirped, “Let's get you dressed in some of my finished pieces so we can get an idea of what suits you best, alright?”
Two hours and approximately twenty dresses later, you were finally done. The design you two came up with was still in the works, but you've established a few key elements.
Firstly, the dress would be made out of angora silk—the softest and most expensive type of silk there was. Heat rose to your cheeks when Chaeryoung told you, squashing your meek protests.
“I will not tolerate anything less for the Queen's wedding dress.”
Secondly, you decided on the silhouette; a basque, ballgown-like overskirt that flared at the waist with lace trimmings. It was a rather pompous design in your opinion, but Chaeryoung assured you that you would look fantastic. And in a sense, you would be fulfilling your childhood dream of wearing a princess-like gown at your own wedding so without much reluctance, you agreed.
Your hair would be pinned up into a twisted low bun with some scarlet peonies woven in—a simple updo that wouldn't take too much attention off your face. On top of that, you'd adorn a modest, sheer veil with jewels at the hem.
Stretching your arms above your head, you stepped into Minho's bedroom, plopping yourself on the bed. The sheets were infused with his smell, something you had come to love while falling asleep by his side.
. ˚✧・* •
“You know, I never actually brought anyone here,” Minho mused as the two of you walked through the secluded park hand in hand, his warm palm enveloping yours.
“How come?” you piped, looking at him intently, a bright sort of curiosity glimmering in your eyes. The palace gardens were vast, in fact, you figured they could've been bigger than the grounds of your palace back in the Azure land.
His eyes suddenly filled with sorrow, “My brother used to take me here all the time when we were little.”
“Oh,” the word left your lips in a partial breath, immediately feeling guilty for having asked in the first place. “I'm sorry.”
“No, no. Don't be,” Minho responded, “It's okay, don't worry. I'm just happy that I get to spend some time with you. I'm sure my brother would've liked you a lot…”
“You think so?”
His hands dropped to your waist, pulling you into his chest. “I know it.” A teasing smirk appeared on his face as he pinched your side, leaning down and connecting your lips in a heated kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but eventually, you melted into his embrace, hands sliding around his neck to tug at the strands of his hair.
“Sweetheart,” he rasped, pulling away in a breathless daze. “I-I… thank you. For everything.”
The sincerity in his eyes almost made your knees buckle, your hand reaching to caress his face. It wasn't usual for Minho to show vulnerability, and you were happy he felt comfortable enough with you to share such personal moments with.
You leaned towards him, pressing your lips to his in a much shorter sweet peck, smiling brightly. “He would've been so proud of you, Min.”
Minho looked puzzled for a second, before a look of understanding spread across his face. Warmth filled his orbs as he leaned down to press a kiss to the curve of your jaw, causing a shiver to run down your spine.
Then, he gently brushed the hair out of your face before he kneeled down on one knee. Taken aback, you lifted your brow, unsure of what he was doing. The light breeze tousled the locks in front of his eyes, the scene beginning to remind you of one straight from a romance novel.
“Y/N,” he began, gazing into your eyes with such intensity it made your head spin. “You know, I never would've expected to fall in love with you,” he spoke softly into the whistling wind, breaking your gaze for a second.
“Our first meeting was surrounded with unpleasant circumstances, but because of that, I feel like I can appreciate the bond we've built even more.”
You nodded wordlessly, silently agreeing with every word he said. A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before he continued, “And I've come to realize how wonderful of a person you are. Never in the twenty-two years I've been alive have I met someone as kind and selfless as you, not to mention you're a real goddess,” he added with a wink.
“Minho—” you spluttered, feeling bashful under the waterfall of compliments he was issuing you. “I-I, uh, I mean…”
“It's okay,” he pressed his thumb to your lower lip, effectively silencing you. “Let me do all the talking, sweetheart.”
When you nodded timidly, he carried on, “And one afternoon, I realized that I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I want to wake up by your side every morning and go to sleep next to you every night. I want us to rule the land together and start a family with you.”
His hand dug into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box. He opened it with ease, holding out the delicate ring with a small ruby stone in the middle.
“Y/N, I'm asking you not as the Prince, not as the future King, but as Minho… Lee Minho. Will you marry me?”
You brought your trembling hand to your mouth, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes as you whimpered, “Y-Yes. I'd l-love to…”
A relaxed smile appeared on his lips, previously tense shoulders relaxing as he slipped the wedding band on your ring finger. It fit like a glove. Bringing your hand to his mouth, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, holding in the joyful screams that chafed at his throat.
You placed your hand onto his cheek, pulling his head up so you could lock lips once again, the warm tears searing your flesh.
And just like that, the two of you enjoyed your last week together before the wedding preparations came in full throttle.
. ˚✧・* •
“Minho, please,” you burst into your now shared bedroom with pleading eyes, “Help me hide!”
“What did you do this time?” your fiancé raised a brow, an amused chuckle escaping his parted lips. He was sprawled across the bed, long legs nearly dangling off the edge of the mattress with a leather-bound book in his hand.
You hated to admit it, but Minho could pull off anything while looking sinfully attractive.
Shutting the door behind you gently, you took a deep breath to steady you heartbeat. After all, you had run all the way from the southern wing. “For your information, I didn't do anything. But they were gonna make me choose what color napkins I want for the reception. Do you hear that? Napkins—”
Minho had to stifle a laugh at the frustration in your tone, sitting up to pull you onto his lap. You fell into his hold with a slight yelp, heat rising to your cheeks at the close proximity.
“How 'bout I make it up to you, baby?”
The blood stilled in your veins at his flirtatious words, immediately feeling yourself curl into a ball at his playful actions. Minho noticed the change instantly, guilt washing over him.
“Hey, hey,” he cupped your cheek, tilting your head upwards until you had no choice but to look at straight at him. His chocolate orbs held nothing but fondness, which helped you relax into his touch. “There's no need to be shy, Princess. I won't do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”
You leaned in closer, resting your head against his chest and inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. “I'm sorry, I know you'd never do anything like that,” your breath hitched in your throat. “I'm just a bit nervous about the wedding, that's all.”
“Why are you nervous? Are the preparations not going well?”
You shook your head softly, “No, that's not that. I'm just anxious about how the people will think of me as their new Queen…”
“We've been over this a million times,” Minho murmured against the top of your head, gently rubbing your back. “And my initial opinion still stands—they will love you. You're a good person and sooner or later, they'll realize that you have their best intentions at heart.”
“I hope you're right,” you sighed. He responded with a smile, “Don't worry. I know I'm right…”
Then, he leaned down until his lips were ghosting above yours.
“Can I kiss you?”
Afraid that the words wouldn't leave your mouth, you nodded, fluttering your lashes as he sealed your lips with a heated kiss. You felt heat spread all across your body, as if the warmth from his lips was seeping into your every cell. His hands slowly lowered from your waist to your thighs, the pads of his thumbs gently running over the sensitive skin.
It sent electric jolts that went straight to your stomach, warmth pooling at your belly. You pressed yourself closer to him, mewling at the feeling of his nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.
After what felt like eternity, Minho disconnected your lips with a groan, lips curling into a teasing grin.
“I think this has been a long day for you. Wanna cuddle before we go to sleep?”
“Yeah,” you yawned, exhaustion slowly taking over you. “I'd love that.”
. ˚✧・* •
The day had finally arrived.
After weeks upon weeks of meticulous and rigorous planning, you were finally about to step out and walk to the altar where your union would be officially sealed, the treaty officially coming into effect.
And despite the fact that you had been preparing for this moment nearly your entire life, your heart felit like it would jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating.
You would be marrying Minho today.
You would become the Queen.
And for some reason, you felt a tug at your chest. Fear and excitement were coursing through you, the stark contrast of emotions swirling inside of you like a tornado.
Your hand dropped to your chest, picking up the shimmering, crystal pendant that Minho gifted you a few days prior.
“Your Majesty,” Yuna's voice sounded through the wooden door, causing you to look up. “You'll be up in a few minutes.”
Taking a deep breath, you mustered all your energy to respond in a calm and collected way. “Of course… I'm coming.”
Stepping out of the dressing room, you readjusted your dress at the waist, smoothing down the nonexistent creases on your robe. The soft silk felt like heaven under your fingertips, and you grinned appreciatively at the delicate lace hems.
“You look absolutely breathtaking, Your Majesty,” Yuna giggled, unable to hold it in. Her hands immediately reached to readjust the red peonies woven into your hair, making sure that everything was in place.
It all went by in a blur; you were suddenly pushed down the aisle, a chorus of cheers and applause ringing through your ears. The velvet carpet crunched under your heels, and to your surprise, you noticed that the edges of the rug were lined with fresh peonies, not unlike the ones in your hair.
It seemed like Minho was really pushing this whole flower aesthetic, and if you were honesty, you were living for it.
When your eyes met, it felt like fireworks erupted in your chest. Minho had impeccable taste, that much you knew, but this was the first time you'd seen him dressed to the nines like this.
A crisp white suit adorned his body, the snug fit merely accentuating his broad shoulders. His russet hair was gelled to the back, revealing his forehead with only a few strands falling from the slick updo.
You nearly gasped when you saw the azure colored pocket square was neatly arranged in his breast pocket, the shade unmistakenly reminding you of your nation's true colors.
Everything went quiet, the screams and the hollers of the people dying out in favor of all the eyes slowly gravitating towards you. You could feel every single pair of orbs on you, a shiver running down your spine. As you walked down the aisle with the large, orchid bouquet in hand, your eyes locked once more. He gently took ahold of your hand, the two of you walking the last steps to the altar together.
“Princess Y/N of the Azure nation, do you take Prince Minho as your lawful husband that you will cherish in sickness and health and promise to stay faithful to for as long as the two of you shall live?”
Inhaling, you responded, loud and clear, “I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”
Everyone cheered, throwing their hands in the air as Minho pressed a kiss to your lips. It was short and sweet, yet managed to convey so many emotions, like hope and promise for a better future.
Your finger was now adorned with two rings; the one he proposed with and the simple wedding band that matched his.
Never in your entire life had you felt such a rush of endorphins. Blood was coursing through your veins, the excitement, and the atmosphere filling you with a sense of warmth.
Minho suddenly grabbed your hand, raising it above your head with a smirk. “Do you wanna show them?”
You nodded almost instantly, knowing what he wanted to do. Simultaneously, frozen icicles shot from your hand, bursting through the air as Minho did the same, except it was fire that was bursting from his fingertips.
The crowd started cheering at the showy display of power as loud chants tore from their throats.
“Long live the Queen!”
. ˚✧・* •
Jisung was watching you from the swarm of people, craning his neck to watch you from his seat in the fourth row. Next to him, Chan glanced down at him, clearly worried for his friend as he mumbled, “Are you sure you're okay?”
He nodded in response, refusing to tear his eyes from the scene in front of him. Minho had just kissed you in front of the entire kingdom. He knew he should've been happy for you, especially after seeing that genuine smile on your lips along with the glimmer in your eye.
But Jisung couldn't help himself from feeling a pang of jealousy in his heart as he watched you and Minho's hands connect. Despite knowing that you were now married to another man, he couldn't just let go of his feelings for you.
And as he watched the two of you smile at each other from under your lashes, gazing into each other's eyes like lovestruck fools, Jisung's heart shriveled up in his chest like a decaying flower on a summer evening, blown away by the breeze till nothing was left but dust.
. ˚✧・* •
epilogue:
A maniacal laugh tore from his throat as he perked his ears. He could hear the wedding bells all the way down here.
The freezing temperature no longer affected him, skin having grown numb to it a long time ago, and the damp smell seeped through every thread of his tunic, irreversibly marking it with its unbearable stench.
His eyes glimmered under the moonlight, sharp and cunning as always. He was a calculative man, for sure, and right now, he was weighing out his odds.
Perhaps escaping wouldn't be as hard as he had initially thought…
© May 2022 by crispy-chan — all rights reserved. do not modify, copy, repost, translate or claim as your own.
a/n: my longest piece to date :) I hope you enjoyed and I applaud you for coming so far! please please let me know your thoughts :< it's what keeps me going on here :> also, shout out to the people that can recognise who was based off of who (as in which character from subZero)...
#lee minho x reader#lee know imagines#lee know suggestive#districtninewriters#ficscafe#kdiarynet#kdiner#ultkpop#kwritersworldnet#kflixnet#k radio!#stayhavennet#straykidsland#lee minho fluff#lee minho angst#lee know fluff#lee know angst#lee know scenarios#lee minho suggestive#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#slz fluff#skz angst#skz scenarios#lee minho scenarios#stray kids minho#kpop scenarios#lee minho x you#lee minho x y/n
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Amore de Nero
Words: 3.2k
Pairing: San x Reader (feat. ATEEZ)
Rating: M
Genre: Thriller, Fluff, Angst, Suggestive
Warnings: language, blood, violence, use of weapons, torture, frightening imagery, dark magic
Banner and proofread by: @multiheaux-house
-
“Damn it!” Y/N swore to herself.
The sky above her had disappeared behind dark clouds, and thunder roared not too far away. Yet here she was, stranded on an old Italian road, miles outside of Venice. If she had just kept her big mouth shut, then she wouldn’t have had a fight with the taxi driver.
“His fault for not cleaning his car,” she scoffed. It wasn’t that Y/N was a neat freak, but if one works in a service that transports people from point A to point B then they should at least keep their vehicle clean. The driver clearly didn’t care to do so as it smelled as if dogs did all of their business there over a course of twenty years along with piles of trash stuffed underneath the floor carpets.
Y/N considered calling for help, but she wouldn’t be able to get service without WiFi as she kept her phone on airplane mode when traveling internationally. Her best bet was to hopefully find someone that could help her out by continuing on foot. She hated that she was having to walk the rest of her journey with her backpack and luggage in another country where someone could easily jump her, beat her, and steal her items leaving her for dead. Pepper spray was on her at all times, and she had taken self-defense classes; but still, you never knew what could happen when traveling in a place where the culture is different.
After walking for about two hours, Y/N’s feet began to hurt. She stopped by an opening to a forest, a restful sight after nothing but fields, and a lone tree stump allowed her to sit down for a while and massage her feet. The sun was about to set and shelter was nowhere in sight. Hitchhiking sounded like an option, but Y/N had heard too many horror stories of people getting kidnapped or worse by doing so. She opted to just keep going until she found some sort of civilization.
As she slowly stood to her feet, there was a rustling next to her. An alarm went off in her head, and she quickly grabbed her pepper spray.
“Who’s there?” she asked. Her feet were planted into the soil, and she was holding out her spray to where the rustling was. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Meow.
A black cat with bright ruby eyes was sitting there in the tall grass just staring up at her and wiggling its tail. Breathing a sigh of relief, Y/N relaxed.
“Hey, little guy,” Y/N chuckled at the little creature, putting the pepper spray away. “You lost?”
Meow.
Upon closer look at the feline, Y/N noticed a small cut right above his nose. “Poor thing,” she sighed. “Here, baby.”
She pulled out a small baby wipe from her backpack to help clean up the wound a little. The cat would probably hate her for it, but she was able to get it to come to her a little closer. He allowed her to gently clean the dried blood from his nose.
“Good as new,” Y/N smiled as she stood.
Purring came from it almost immediately, and he trotted on over to her and brushed up against her legs as if they were old friends.
“Cute.”
Thunder roared in the distance as dark clouds formed above them.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a place to get out of the rain would you?” Y/N asked her new friend.
As if the cat would underst-Did it just...nod?
“I must be losing my mind,” she shook her head.
The cat then began to walk away from her, but looked back at her as if to say, “Follow me.”
“I’m really about to follow a cat,” Y/N realized as she gathered her things. “Better than sitting by the road all night, I guess.”
Y/N continued to follow the little animal down a stone path that stretched deeper and deeper into the woods, the cat stopping every so often to allow her to catch up. Thunder was growing louder, and a few raindrops began to fall down. Y/N hoped they would be at wherever the cat was going, they’d be there soon.
Sure enough, they came upon a small clearing in the woods, the stone almost melting into a full concrete path to a grand mansion. It looked deprived of any human life, yet it still looked...clean? No vines having stretched up to the second-story windows over a long period of time, no broken doors or windowpanes, no dead plants, nothing that would scream an abandoned house was present. It was as if someone still lived there, but no one was home.
The cat entered the house by leaping through an open window on the first floor, and then appearing from behind the now opening wooden door.
“Uh...okay,” was Y/N managed to get out. She wasn’t sure how to process it, but she decided she was too tired to ask questions.
Following the cat inside, Y/N was amazing at how clean and pristine everything looked. The parlor was framed by two wooden staircases that twisted up to the floors above, the marble tile floor gleamed from the sparkling crystal chandelier above, and a stoked fireplace could be seen burning in the living room. It was fancy, but it was also cozy in its own way.
Meow.
Another black cat appeared this time with golden eyes, alongside the red-eyed feline. The two creatures glanced at Y/N before looking towards a hallway that lead to what she guessed was a kitchen. She followed her little friends to it and was led to a greenhouse that was attached to it. A series of distressed mewling came from where clay pots were stacked, and when she looked, there was yet another black cat but tangled in some sort of netting. His little, baby blue eyes looked over at Y/N, almost begging her to free him.
“I’ll get you out, buddy,” she promised while looking around for something sharp.
Five more black cats appeared, all with different colored eyes (white iridescent, sky blue, sapphire blue, dark gray, and purple), and they all watched as Y/N explored around the greenhouse. There were no broken shovels, no carving knives outside, and not even some sort of blade was visible.
When the cat with the iridescent eyes then meowed and led her to the center of the glass structure. A dagger with a gunmetal handle decorated in gothic engraving was sticking out from a large tree stump. It seemed to have been buried deep within it as an eighth of the blade was visible from what Y/N could see. Her hand grabs the cold metal, and she begins to pull it out slowly while begging in a rapid whisper, “Don’t break. Don’t break. Don’t break.” With some tugging, she successfully pulled the weapon out in one piece.
The baby blue-eyed cat was still struggling to free itself, but Y/N approached slowly and calmed him.
“You’ll be out in a moment,” she promised. Taking the net into her hand, she sliced a section almost seemingly with the sharp dagger. The cat calmed down as Y/N worked for about a minute to free him from the suffocating binds.
“There you go,” she smiled.
The cat checked himself before nuzzling his head against her hand in gratitude.
“You’re welcome, kitty,” Y/N giggled. She then looked down at the dagger in her hand. “If this belongs to the owner of the mansion, I’ll return it. Now, let’s see if I can’t find a bed for the night.”
Feeling a nudge at her knee, Y/N glanced down and saw the golden-eyed cat sitting there and looking up at her. He used his head to nudge her forward again as if to make her go.
“You wanna show me where I can sleep, little guy?” she asked.
With a leap, the cat placed himself in front of her and began to prance towards the grand, winding staircase. Y/N didn’t hesitate to follow him as the other seven cats gathered around to stroll with her, two riding on one of her suitcases she grabbed from the parlor. The hallways were a bit gloomy, but not in a haunting way. It was more as if it had been asleep for centuries and was waiting to wake up. A few vases of flowers (and fresh ones?) were lining the halls, and a grand carpet stretched from the staircase to the end of the hall.
The cat turned to a room that was the fourth one on the left and scratched the door a little bit.
“This one?” she asked. “Okay.”
Y/N turned the brass doorknob and pushed the wooden door open to find a beautiful bedroom decorated with a lot of vintage items. The bed had a sturdy, wooden frame, and the mattress was covered with a delicate rose pattern printed against a maroon wash of color. An armoire stood in a corner of the room facing the wall the bed was against, and a dark-wooden vanity sat just in the opposite corner. Another door was placed in between them, which revealed a pristine bathroom complete with a large shower and tub.
Sitting her bags by the vanity, she decided she would unpack and settle in later as she wanted to explore the mansion a bit. She pets the two cats still sitting on her luggage before heading over to the large and tall window. From looking out of it, Y/N saw the sun begin to descend, and the golden-eyed cat leaped onto the bed to let out a huge yawn and stretch.
“Sleepy?” she giggled while still gazing out the window. “You can snuggle with me tonight if you’d like.”
“That actually sounds really nice,” a male voice from behind her responded.
Y/N jumped and turned around. Where a cat once sat, a young man around twenty-two years old took its place. His dark black hair was slicked back, a few strands pulled over his forehead to give a stylized appeal. His chiseled face was pale with the exception of some redness under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in years. A darker shade of red was smeared from the right corner of his mouth up to his cheek as if lipstick was smudged on him; and he was dressed in a shirt that mimicked him having tattoos, a black vest, black pants, and a black pair of dress shoes. His eyes glowed a golden hue, and sharp teeth mimicked that of a vampire’s when he smirked.
“What the-?” Y/N gasped. “How did you-? Where did you-? What?”
“You’re gonna wear out your tongue, miss,” the man chuckled.
“I-I don’t understand. How did you get in so fast without me hearing you?”
“It’s alright. But I think it’s better if we all tell you the tale.”
“We?”
One by one, a mix of red, gold, and silver sparkles surrounded the cats transforming them into handsome young men as the sun descended behind the forest. Two of them sat on the bed with the man, one was sitting in the vanity’s chair, two others stood by the door and were brushing off some dust, and two were straddling her luggage handles, one of them accidentally falling over.
“Wooyoung,” one of the men sitting on the bed sighed and shook his head, his small ponytail swaying a little.
“Sorry, miss,” the one named Wooyoung nervously laughed.
Each of them was dressed similarly to the man, but with different styles. Each of their eyes glowed the same as their cat forms, and they all looked just as tired and pale. What stood out to Y/N the most were the seemingly fresh scratches somewhere on each of them.
“What kind of sick fairytale did I step into?” Y/N whispered.
“I know it’s confusing,” the man with the ponytail said as he stood to smooth out his shirt, his scratches in the middle of his chest. “But allow us to introduce ourselves, first.”
“I’m San,” the first man said.
“I’m Hongjoong, and I rule this forest. The one who just fell is Wooyoung.”
He waved as he stood to his feet.
“The one sitting on the other suitcase is the one you freed from the net, Mingi,” he continued. “And then this is Jongho, Seonghwa, Yunho, and Yeosang.”
“I’m the one who found you by the road,” the one named Yeosang smiled, his scratch across the bridge of his nose. Identical to the one from his cat form.
“I’m Y/N,” she finally spoke up after coming out of her confused stupor. “It’s nice to meet all of you, and thank you for your kind hospitality.”
She held the dagger to hand to Hongjoong. “This must be yours since the house is yours.”
Instead of taking the object and thanking her, he shook his head. “The dagger belongs to you now. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time?”
Y/N raised a brow. “Come again?”
“Do you know what you have in your hand?”
“It’s a daggar. Is there some sort of holy grail significance?”
“It all started four years ago,” Hongjoong began their story. “My cousin Jongkook lived in the enchanted forest with us. Our uncle, the former ruler of the forest, was to pass down the crown. When it was time to select the successor, I was chosen as the next ruler. Jongkook was enraged, so he left. For a while, everything was at peace, but little did we know that Jongkook would return, stronger and heavily practiced in dark magic. He then began to take the forest piece by piece. I tried to force Jongkook to leave, but his strength was overwhelming. Most of my army were either destroyed or turned into his servants, their minds turned to darkness and evil. These seven were able to escape, but not without falling under his magic. I was able to reverse it, but only partially. Sunrise to sunset, we walk as cats. Sunset to sunrise, we are human.”
“Technically,” San sighed, “we’re still cursed. Hongjoong has no power strong enough to overthrow him. Only the girl who pulls the dagger from the tree stump will be able to overcome Jongkook, bring life back to the forest, and set us free.”
“No one has been able to free the dagger, until today,” Hongjoong concluded with a smile of hope.
Wooyoung jumped to his feet and clapped. “We’re gonna be free!” he cheered as he danced happily.
“Wait,” Y/N stopped them. “It can’t be me. I’ve never overcome anyone in my life. I wish I could-”
San gently took her hand into his. “I know it’s a ton to take in, now; but how about you sleep a bit? We can talk more before sunrise.”
They couldn’t speak while in cat form, so Y/N figured she’d have to guess they’d work out a form of Pictionary to communicate with them during the day.
“Could I explore the mansion for a bit?” Y/N requested. “If I’m going to be here for a bit, then I’d better familiarize myself with everything.”
“Okay,” Hongjoong agrees with a nod, “but promise you’ll get some sleep afterward.”
“I will.”
San offers to show her around, and Y/N follows him out.
The hallways were dim now, but Hongjoong quickly illuminated the place with a snap of his fingers just as lightning flashed from outside. With the house illuminated so warmly, it felt more welcoming than when she first entered.
“Even though you’re safe,” San said as he came up from behind her, “some parts of the house feel creepy at night.”
“I’m not scared of the dark,” Y/N replied.
“You’re braver than Mingi and Wooyoung combined,” Yunho joked with a chuckle.
“Hey!” the two in question shouted back.
San stopped by a small table and picked up what looked like...an iPhone? He switched on the flashlight mode and saw the confused expression on Y/N’s face. “We may be cursed, but we still live in the twenty-first century.”
“Well, when you guys said that Hongjoong ruled the forest,” she shrugged, “I thought you were in serious fairytale mode.”
“We get mail and have bills to pay like most people,” San explains as he looks for a light switch on the wall. “We just work at night, and keep the enchanted forest stuff to ourselves to prevent outsiders from finding us.”
“Oh, well, if you’re trying to keep outsiders out, wouldn’t the post office know your address?”
“We have a PO box,” he says as he turns the switch on, bright lights from the ceiling and chandeliers illuminating the dim halls and main area. “There we go. Are you hungry?”
Y/N nods. “Plane food doesn’t exactly satisfy your stomach for long.”
“We’ve got a variety of things,” San smiles as he leads her to the kitchen. “I think we may have leftover chicken and rice if that’s alright.”
“I’m okay with anything really,” Y/N replied. “But that does sound good.”
The kitchen itself was fairly large with cherry wood cabinets and a quartz island in the center. There wasn’t much decoration, except for a few plants and succulents. There were a couple of dishes in the sink, and the last bit of sunlight peaked through the window.
San searches the refrigerator and finds the food requested. “I’ll heat this up for you,” he says as he prepares a plate for Y/N. He then puts the plate of food in the microwave for about a minute before serving it to Y/N with a glass of water.
“Thanks,” she smiles and begins to eat. The flavor satisfied her tongue, and she was happy to finally eat normal food.
“I guess airplane food really does suck,” San joked.
“Zero out of five stars,” Y/N teases back. “Would not recommend.”
The two laughed, the moment breaking the ice.
“I’m glad we can be of some hospitality until you get back on your feet,” San says once he’s caught his breath.
“Thank you,” Y/N smiles. “While, I do have a job interview in a few days, I don’t know if I want to go to the hotel I’m to be staying at. It’s so lovely here.”
“Stay for as long as you need. You’re our guest.”
“You missed your opportunity to burst into the ‘Be Our Guest’ number from Beauty and the Beast.”
San shrugs. “Well, our flatware doesn’t sing, so we’re out of luck there. Anyhow, we can give you a tour of the mansion if you’d like.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Y/N yawns. “I’m a bit tired after today.”
“I understand,” San nods. “I’ll have breakfast ready for you before the sun comes up. I’ll leave you a note on how to heat it up.”
She looks at him confused for a moment before realizing why. “So, you won’t be able to talk to me in cat form?”
He shakes his head. “It’s all about body language when you’re a feline.”
Tags: @treasure-hwa
#foratiny#atzinc#kpopscape#8makes1team#kflixnet#ateezlovenet#kdiarynet#kvanity#KRadio#kpopficsnetwork#ateez#atz#choi san#san x reader#kim hongjoong#park seonghwa#kdiner#jeong yunho#kang yeosang#song mingi#jung wooyoung#choi jongho
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"I KNOW YOU GET DEJA VU."
#flash tw#atzinc#ateezedit#kdiner#kpopccc#idolsincedits#seonghwa#hongjoong#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#ot8#ateez#ateez gifs#ot8 gifs#.vgifs#1k
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ponytail gang!
#ateezlovenet#kdiner#lsn.works#kpopgfxnetwork#destinyversenet#ateez#choi san#san#jung wooyoung#wooyoung#woosan#thanxx#gifs#gifset#mountain man#sexy performance#applejjongtent#theappleclub
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STRAWBERRY
pairing. jisung x reader
genre + themes. fluff, friends-to-lovers, high school!au, secret-admirer!au
wc. 8.214 k / warn. non, but don't take stuff from strangers
for candy hearts hosted by @127-mile
↳ prompt used. “stop being so cute,”
synopsis — jisung receives a note and caramel one morning leading to a search for his secret admirer and you hope that he doesn't figure out who it is.
yunan says. another one of my favourites. i couldn't wait to post this again because this is like my go-to reread fic as well. reblog + comments are appreciated. reposted!
ONE.
In love with words, you left notes with words to whoever in the guise of anonymity.
Out of the twenty-three seats in class 3-D, it was always at his. It started one morning when he came extra early because he left his math homework book at school and needed to copy down his friend's work before the first period.
"Aw, man, aw man," he chants, sloppily switching his outdoor shoes with his indoor ones. "You're a lifesaver!" he whines, glancing back at his friend and taking his homework from his hands.
Climbing the flight of stairs to the second floor, he decides he doesn't like the school so early in the morning. The open space, daybreak sunlight dancing through the windows and translucent curtains, the sound of his breathing tickling the back of his neck and unprompted noise sending waves of paranoia to his heart. He is afraid of the empty space and loud noises because he can't see where they come from and who makes them.
Slowing his breathing as he reached his classroom, he tiptoed first peeking his head into class ensuring there wasn't anything in and then stepping into it, jogging to his seat and haphazardly dropping his bag, jerking his hands under the desk and pulling his math homework book out.
It was pink. A folded pink sticky note that doesn't belong to him or his friends.
He blinks at it, lying on the floor as it had fallen when he took out his book and he shifts his head sideways, blinking at it for a good while before churning his face at it and picking it up.
Hope you like caramel.
He reads it over a couple of times, running his hand through the space under his desk until his hand feels the small cube of how toffees came in. He takes it out, wrapped in a shiny, yellow and brown wrapping, he stares at it. He doesn't mind caramel, he thinks as he unwraps it and pops it into his mouth not thinking twice about the toffee but he ponders.
Who would leave a treat under his desk with a note? Not a bad person because they wouldn't hope he likes caramel and maybe, it wasn't meant for him but there was no name written anyways. The time passes with the caramel melting in his mouth as he jolts down math equations in clumsy handwriting, taking occasional five-second breaks to stare at the pink sticky note and he thinks, I feel like I know this handwriting.
"Park Jisung," he heard jolting in his seat and squaring up, throwing his hands over his chest. Peeking over his shoulder, he groans at Sunghoon who smiles at him and the giggling Chenle, who doesn't bother to apologise for startling him.
"Man, why are… hah god—you so scared all the time?" Chenle laughs, dropping to the seat in front of him and Sunghoon joins in giggling as he spots the pink sticky note on Jisung's table.
"Oh, you're taking notes?" he guffaws, nodding his head while taking the note from him. "Hope you like caramel?" he reads it before passing it to Chenle.
"You got a caramel from a rando?" Chenle asks, blinking at him with a crooked smile forming on his lips. Wiggling his brows, he giggles, "Oooh, secret admirer?"
Jisung is sure he and the sticky note were the same colour now, shaking his head and playing with the sides of his hair. "Don't say nonsense so early in the morning," he furrows his brows and tries to grab the note as his friends laugh, investigating it further. "Stop laughing if you want to look at it!"
Rolling their eyes at him, Chenle freezes for a second and snaps at Jisung with wide eyes, "I know this handwriting!" he squeals springing off his chair and the classroom door is pushed open sending the loud noise through the class, simultaneously causing all the three teenagers to jump out of their skin.
In the end, he never finds out as their friends enter one by one and somehow it's been silently decided that the pink sticky note is a secret between the three of them. It nags him in the back of his mind throughout the homeroom, waiting for the chance to ask Chenle who he thinks it was but it never comes as the first period is math.
"Hand in your homework!" is the trigger that brushes the note aside, panic washing over him as he barely completed the homework and he hands over a half-done work.
Park Jisung sits on the fourth bench to the last beside the windows, the perfect spot as he dubs it. Not too close to the teachers and not too far from the board, fresh air and sunlight galore and the wall is at his disposal to lean on. He could think of many reasons one might find themselves at his seat, leaving notes and sweets but he couldn't figure it out at the same time.
He wasn't sociable or anything, he had a couple of close friends, a bunch of dudes he played soccer with and the girls always made him too nervous to speak unless he talked to them every day. Jisung couldn't find a single thing that made him worthy of having a secret admirer.
Maybe he looks cool playing soccer. It might have been the talent show last year where he danced or maybe even just because he was rumoured to be trying out for the soccer team this year. He didn't know because he doesn't think any of those qualities are worth having a crush on him for. He is awkward, barely an average student, lanky, has an out-grown bowl cut, holds out scissors for handshakes and can't do anything well by himself. Even if you break his head apart, he didn't think a secret admirer was a plausible answer to the note or even feel worthy of having one.
"Ugh, let's just wait till break," Jisung mutters to himself, laying his head in his tied arms over the desk exasperated and he sighs for the nth time that day.
TWO.
Another thing he likes about his seat is the view.
You could see the open blue skies, white cotton candy and chirping birds through the windows, floating to Neverland and drowning out the teachers, getting lost in a daydream where you are cooler than you actually are and where the possibility of it being a secret admirer is not so bizarre.
"Stop sighing, Park Jisung," Sunghoon smiles, slapping the back of his head with his curled eyes and leaning on his side as Chenle finds his way to the seat in front of him again.
"You still thinking about the note?" Chenle asks, raising his brows confidently, smirking at him. "I might know which class your secret admirer is from," he said in a high pitch, shaking his shoulders.
Jisung leans over the table, Sunghoon and Chenle copying the action. "Ahem, ahe—"
"Get to it already!" Sunghoon hisses, stabbing his knees against Chenle's legs.
"Alright, alright—this handwriting belongs to one of the representatives from class 3-A," He breaths in a deep breath, pulling away from his friend with a proud nod of his head waiting for his friends' reaction but he was met with silence, furrowed brows, pursed lips and contemplative expressions.
"3-A is, like, two rooms away," Sunghoon notes, nodding his head.
"We share bio-lab with 3-A," Jisung adds, joining in on the nodding. "Uh, we share one P.E with them too."
"Who knows someone from 3-A?" Chenle asks, blinking at the two of them. Chenle remembers something but he keeps it to himself, blinking suspiciously at the note.
Jisung stares at him, Sunghoon and the pink sticky note. They are being so enthusiastic about it that it can't possibly turn out so well. A crippling sense of dread looms over him as he realises he is getting closer to finding out who it might've been behind the note and the toffee. Scrunching his nose, Jisung sighs heavily at his friends, cracking his backbone and deciding.
"Let's write a reply."
However, before Chenle could speak again, the book is slapped against the top of his head and they are sent away to their seats.
THREE.
Immediately after the lunch break, Jisung noticed Chenle unusually hurry back to their classroom and by the time he and Sunghoon reached, he was already bolting back out with his biology practical reader and record book. Pursuing his lips, Jisung makes eye contact with Sunghoon who shrugs blinking at him, just as confused.
Panting heavily, Chenle slams the lab's door open, setting his eyes on the third table on the left row of the class. A wave of relief washes him, dragging himself to the table as he takes a deep breath and hearing the grunt that escapes your lips, he could almost see you roll your eyes even though he still couldn't see your face.
"If you can't say it in five words, don't bother." you deadpan, raising your brows, looking up at him from your chair.
"Jisung. Has. A. Secret. Admirer." folding his fingers with each word Chenle notes the way your eyes swiftly widened at his words and smirks, "That's five words."
"And that's bad news," you sneer, flapping your lashes at him and grinding your teeth.
"You were running to meet Y/N?" you turn to the voice, hearing your name and your breath hitches subtly as Jisung stretches his lips to a smile at you.
"Hi, Jisung." you smile, trailing your eyes to your table, pinching the edge of it.
"No hi for me?" Sunghoon said, mimicking the exasperated way you said hi in.
Rolling your eyes, the boys settle at their assigned places with their partners as the biology teacher makes her arrival at the door with a loud clapping of her books against the podium.
To your displeasure, Zhong Chenle is your partner.
"So, you are a girl," he nods, leaning close to you.
"Way to notice, captain obvious." you scoff, pushing him away.
Zhong Chenle has dirt on you and it might just be the most infuriating thing that has ever been. Said dirt; being your childhood friend and a close relationship with the boy you like. If it wasn't obvious, Park Jisung would be the only reason you put up Chenle anymore since he doesn't say anything weird to Jisung about you.
"Anyway, secret admirer?" you ask, furrowing your brows at him as you began placing the plant specimen your teacher distributed under the microscope.
He nods, taking a quick glance at the teacher, passing you the forceps, "This morning, Jisung found a pink sticky note under his table with a caramel toffee." he said, stifling his giggles, "We are planning on writing a reply."
You stiffen at his response, blinking at him and you are thankful he doesn't notice your paling skin and abrupt freezing at his words. Gulping the nerves, you frown at him as you note down the number of whatever the teacher said to write down.
"H-how do you know they'll get the reply?" you ask, stealing a glance at Jisung.
"Worth a shot though."
You only share bio-lab and one P.E period with his class. Interacting with him was far in between because of how he would stiffen up, stutter and heck, run away from you. It wasn't just you, Jisung isn't good with girls in general even if you were close with Chenle. Your efforts to get to know him is currently running on snail fuel and asking Chenle for help is like handing him more blackmail material. You sigh, berating yourself, you didn't think this would happen.
"Y/N, if you don't pick up your game," Chenle wiggles his eyebrows at you, as you both finally finished the work and you looked at him, churning your face. "Don't push your luck, Chenle,"
"Jisung is more popular with the girls than you think he is," you add, turning to face Jisung's directing and Chenle copies your action.
"You know the caramel he got?" Chenle mutters in a more serious tone and you glance at him, "It had the same yellow and brown colour wrapping on—I think it's the same brand. Same as the one you eat when you need to come early for council work."
You feel as if you were drenched in a shower of ice cubes, holding your breath and staring at him.
God, how you hated how Chenle pays attention to the little things.
FOUR.
With setting skies, you decide that you will talk to Jisung more.
You always liked the sunsets. On your walk back home after council work and club activities, the sun always dances at the horizon, painting the sky in a shade of red-like orange with a combination of magenta, pink and deep blue and purple. It was beautiful and the taste of the strawberry candy on the centre of your tongue, melting and Park Jisung running in circles in your head.
You could bet he would be put on a ventilation system if he feels how your heart reacts to his thoughts. Almost rendering you breathless with only thoughts, you don't know how to act with him and you always walk a couple of steps behind him and his friends. Despite telling yourself to walk up and somehow converse with him, your legs just couldn't, leaving your lingering eyes on him and watching as Chenle and Sunghoon huddle close to him, whispering.
"Y-you didn't tell her about the note right?" Jisung asks, peeking over his shoulder to look at you and glancing at Chenle.
"Why?" he asks back, blinking at him and Jisung gaps his lips, letting out a confused noise and blinking at him.
"I don't want her to misunderstand!" Jisung mutters, looking at the ground and Sunghoon howls, stabbing his side with his elbow and Chenle hooks his arm around his neck, on his tiptoe.
Sunghoon wiggles his brows, “Oohh, Jisung,”
"Well, I'll say," Chenle teasingly stares back at you making eye contact. "She was very very shocked by the sudden development."
"Don't you dare, Chenle," Jisung quips, shoving him to the side and Sunghoon laughs, slowing down and walking backwards, catching the attention of the duo.
He stops as you both are at the same pace and side by side. "Hey, L/N," Sunghoon grins, turning to face you.
You slow down, swallowing the candy, "I wonder what ice boy wants from me?" you said in a high pitch, hooking your arms and swinging in front of you with a stiff smile. You roll your eyes at him and sigh, "Hi, Park."
"Those pink stickies are the same as the ones you stick on my reader when you help me study." he points, coming closer to your space to purposely make you uncomfortable, "Was that meant for him or an accident?"
"You are absolutely wonderful until you open your mouth," you groan, stomping your foot and halting on your way. "How is it both you and Chenle already figured this out?"
"Because we are friends," he sings into your ear and swings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you as he speedwalks to Chenle and Jisung. "I brought company,"
"Ah—oh god, why?" Jisung mutters, walking back into Chenle.
"So I heard you have a secret admirer?"
You figured feigning ignorance is the way to go, smiling at him and stabbing your elbow into Chenle's side when he opens his mouth to what you presume, protest.
You note how his cheeks instantly burn up, wincing at how cute his reaction is," N-no, I don't have a secret admirer!" he squeaks, putting his arms in a cross, making you squint your eyes at him with coo.
"God, you are so cute!" you exclaim, "How are you friends with these two?"
Said two howl at Jisung and raise their brows at each other, watching Jisung turn more and more like a tomato look-alike and decide to let him complete transformation.
"Shucks, Sung, I promised to tag along for your ice practice, didn't I?" Chenle tilts his head asking and Sunghoon catches the ball, continuing with a gasp, "Oh, yes!"
"Jisung, can you go home with Y/N?" Chenle asks, blinking at him and you could see through him.
"Does Park even have practice today?" You ask, tying your arms and glaring at the boy. You knew his schedule in the back of your head because he takes lessons from you.
"Of course, I do! I know my schedule—why do you know?" Sunghoon huffs, rolling his eyes. "Don't tell me you like me or something?"
"Hah, Me? like you? We all know who I like," you said, faking a gag and he smirks, bending a bit to close the distance, "And who is it you like?"
Dropping your jaws, you don't notice the glint in his eyes or the panicked Chenle who looked like he found this situation amusing.
"I like Park Jisung, what's it to you?"
FIVE.
What's it to you is that you are doomed for life. Life lesson 101: Don't forget your surroundings even in battle. Sluggishly dragging your feet up the stairs to the second floor. They say curiosity killed the cat but you know the rest of the saying, "Satisfaction brought it back." you remind yourself out loud and peek into 3-D.
You always knew where he sat. On the fourth bench to the last beside the window and it was the perfect spot. You could look up from the ground and spot him, dazing away at the sky as if he was in deep thought until his teacher would force him to pay attention to class. Somedays his eyes would be on the ground during your P.E and he would subtly wave at you sending an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. And on those days, the strawberry candy would taste especially sweet and cause you to pluck up some courage.
Ergo, that is the behind scene of your gutsy note and caramel toffee.
Taking a deep breath, you put your hand under his table and felt around until your skin met with the creases of a folded paper. Pulling it out, you chuckle at the messily rounded paper and you open it up, finding the same yellow and brown wrapped caramel. You didn’t think he would leave you a caramel in return for your caramel. As you pop the toffee in your mouth, you take deep breaths to slow your racing heart and read the words he left on the cramped paper.
I do like caramel, thank you.
Do you like strawberry flavour?
You giggle at the note, relief flooding over you. You didn’t expect anything less or more from Park Jisung but asking if you like strawberry flavour is on par with asking if you like your mom. You quickly took your bundle of sticky notes and fished your pen from your pocket and jolted down your reply and left behind your favourite strawberry candy, frantically skipping away with a giddy flutter running over your skin.
"Oh! THERE IS A REPLY!" Jisung screeches, flopping onto his chair and wrapping the baby pink wrapping from the candy.
"Ahah, it's her favourite," Chenle whispers into Sunghoon's ear as they lean over Jisung to get a peek at the note.
Strawberries are my favourite,
Do you like them too?
Chenle chuckles from above him and he cranes his head upwards with a glare, “What’s so funny, Chenle?” Jisung hissed, scrunching his nose, “Shoul—”
“Jisung-ssi, how was your after school date with Y/N?” Sunghoon coyly asks, leaning against Chenle with a grin that seeps with mischief.
Jisung could only gap at him. Last evening must’ve been the most nerve-wracking day in his years of living. Let’s backtrack for a bit.
Ten-year-old Jisung was extra shy and only played with his brothers and childhood friends until he met Zhong Chenle who was new to the neighbourhood. He and Y/N moved in about the same time and for as long as he could remember, you never came out to play with them and Chenle was the only one who knew anything about you until one day, you sent a bucket of sweets over to Jisung’s house on valentines and his mother teased him for days with the name of a girl he doesn’t even know the voice of.
Now that backstory is set, the explanation for his nerves is that you are the only girl who openly showed any attraction to him despite him being overly conscious of you and even running away on occasions he couldn’t count with his fingers and toes combined. Walking beside you was a little too much for his heart. The ambience of the multicoloured sky, singing birds and the slow pace trying to make the walk home longer than it would be normally. His eyes stole glances at your fiddling fingers, kicking feet and slightly heated cheeks that made his heart squeeze. How could you call him cute when you are like this? He could never understand what you saw in the ten-year-old him or even the grown him now.
“Earth to Jisung,” Sunghoon calls, shaking his shoulder and he burns up, fluttering his lashes at his friend, “How was the date, Romeo?”
“It was not a date and I know you didn’t have ice practice yesterday.” he pouts, rolling his eyes and shifting his eyes to Chenle, “Your mom called me to ask if you were at mine playing video games still, liar.”
Groaning, Chenle clicked his tongue as he swung his arm around Jisung’s neck and whines, “I forgot my mom does that,”
Jisung being his mother’s personal favourite and spy somehow always escapes Chenle’s mind because he was used to that being your post. The less you hang out with Chenle, the more Jisung does. “Did you at least talk to her?” Chenle asks, his tone lower than it was earlier and his brows furrowing.
He doesn’t understand what happened after you told them you liked Park Jisung, he couldn’t speak after that; his heart hammered in his chest, lungs shrinking whenever your fingers lightly grazed his and he was breathing hurriedly to calm himself—it took a lot from him to even walk to home because you let out a small sigh, with a soft smile and even said him to get home safe, it was just like the romantic comedies or shoujo animes, Jisung physically couldn’t speak or remember anything after the I like Park Jisung part of last evening.
His silence speaks louder than anything to his friends, his glazed eyes, staring at his desk with half-lid eyes, subtle smile and his hands that began playing with his hair. Giving up on getting anything out of him, Chenle and Sunghoon shake their head and move into their seats as the class began to flood with the rest of their classmates and eventually their homeroom starts with Jisung in the same daze he was in every single day but instead of staring outside the window, he was lost in the thought of you telling his goodbye by your door with a smile.
SIX.
“Wait, what did you do?” Hyunjin asks, pushing her hair out of her face and dropping her jaw at you as you rolled your eyes and jolted down the lesson.
“Accidently confess and become a secret admirer,” you said, letting a quiet cry out and dropping your face into your palms. “Why am I like this?”
“Uh—how did he—”
“—That’s what scares me, Hyunjin! He didn't say or do anything about it!” you widen your eyes, taking her hand in yours and leaning towards her, “Lele and Hoon know I am the secret admirer too!” slumping on your chair, you hear her snort and opt to send her a glare with a heavy huff.
Hyunjin is the only friend who you consciously and deliberately told about your crush on young mister Park and hence, she is the one who naturally listened to you complaining or rambling about him. She was the first other friend you made because Chenle has always been your only friend. When you became friends, you forgot Chenle and Hyunjin became your walking, talking human diary. You think the only mistake you made concerning Jisung was sending him the bucket of sweets when you were younger and that’s the only decision you made about him without consulting with Hyunjin and now the second thing was the pink sticky note and caramel.
It always comes to bite you back in the ass when it’s not fool-checked by her and you learnt your lesson.
Staring at the whiteboard with the teacher writing complex math equations on it, your mind begins to fade in and out. For most of your life, you’ve always known what to do. You have always been a class representative, part of the student council, took part in club activities, stayed on top of your grades and hell, you even tried anything there is to try. The only thing you didn’t know or understand how to solve is your feelings towards Jisung.
"Ugh, what should I do?" you echo your thoughts out into the air, Hyunjin shaking her head as she goes back to taking notes.
SEVEN.
After school, Jisung was ditched again.
Chenle and Sunghoon decided to cut club activities and to an internet cafe without him because he can't skip his football practice since he had just joined. For reasons, it would be okay on a day that was before yesterday but with the change in events, it wasn't okay anymore for him to walk home alone.
He could hear your trudging feet, putting distance between the two of you and the music seeping out of your headsets, into the atmosphere where even he could faintly hear it. Love songs are okay but when it's only the two of you with the cupid skies and heated air, it wasn't anymore.
‘I should talk to her,’ Jisung said to himself, taking a peep at you and snapping his eyes away when he noted that you were already looking, a cherry-like hue clouding his cheeks.
His fingers twirl the end on his bangs, slowing his pace waiting for you to catch up.
"Are you waiting for me?" you yell, pausing a few steps away from him and blinking at him with a smile.
"Uh, I thought we could, I don't know," he stammers, his eyes shifting anywhere but at you, your heart swells at him and you hasten to his side with a giggle. "I know this parfait place," he trails, his lips stretching awkwardly upwards.
"Can I call this a date?" you tease, tying your hands behind your back and leaning towards him coyly as he took several steps back and his hands flew to his heart.
"If you don't say anything, that means you don't deny," you pointedly said, raising your brows and he blinks, his face turning even hotter by the second.
You have always been vocal about your affection towards him and now that it's only you and him, he thinks he likes it. Before he didn't mind hearing them but now, he feels like he doesn't want you to ever stop or think otherwise. The butterflies that come out of hibernation around you, the burning skin where you graze him and even the squinting eyes that tell him you want to coo at him made him nervous and crave for more.
Even if being around you is bad for his heart, he thinks he wouldn't mind dying from heart failure if you're the cause.
EIGHTH.
In the ten minutes walk to the parfait place, Park Jisung learnt that you had one single regret, you carry with you till this day.
"I'm so sorry your mother teased you," you said, your brows pressing against your eyes with a deep frown. "Chenle told me all about it."
"N-no, it's okay." he quickly said, laughing at your dejected form with slumped shoulders and your head hanging off weakly towards the ground.
"I didn't think through it and nobody stopped me," you continued as he pushed the glass door open to a pink, white and blue store with white tables and chairs and the waiters wearing a striped blue and white ensemble. "This place is very cute," you raise your brows with wide eyes looking at Jisung, "This is a date spot."
Coughing at your statement, he covers his mouth rushing to an empty spot and hiding his face on the table. "You didn't need to point it out!" Jisung mutters in a whispered exclaim, peeking an eye out to watch you laugh as you take the chair opposite to him.
"Did you know I sent you the sweets as a valentine's gift?" you ask, going back to the old topic, "I weirdly liked watching you play with Chenle but I wasn't allowed outside yet."
"What was so fun watching me play? I always fell and got the worst parts to play," Jisung asks, resting his chin on his palm and tilting his head to the side.
"Your fair was funny, your laugh was nice and you were really cute." you grin, loving the way his entire face combusts and his face turning against his palms.
Jisung clenched his eyes close, taking fast deep breaths and repeating the words calm down to his heart. Sure, he knows you like him now but when you say it like this—he doesn't know but makes him want to press his lips against yours and make you stop.
You smile with tightly pressed lips at him as the waiter comes to your table and Jisung hurriedly tells him what he wants and asks, "What would you like?"
"Um, strawberry parfait? Is that a thing?" you ask, craning your neck to the waiter and he nods, telling you he'll be back with your order.
“Do you like strawberries?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and for a second, you thought you saw his face get a little more flushed than it was. “I just noticed you eat strawberry flavoured stuff a lot,”
“It’s my absolute favourite,” you grin and pull your bag to your front.
Jisung silently watches you pull out a wrapped candy from your bag and pop it into your mouth and he gasps, pointing at your pink wrapping. "That!" he squeals, taking it from your hand and he feels a static current pass between the both of you, yelping quietly.
"You know, I have a secret admirer?" he said, pouting at the wrapping and you mentally wince remembering that you left the same brand earlier this morning for him.
"A-ah right, Chenle told me," you said, your mouth drying up as you let the candy melt. "Do you suspect anyone?"
Jisung closes his eyes for a second, a thoughtful expression on his face with furrowed brows and his lips being pulled in between his teeth, "It's someone from class 3-A who uses pink sticky notes and likes strawberries." he lists, his fingers playing at his chin like a detective and you smile gently, but it falters. ‘Ah, that describes me,’
It won't take long, your mind says. It's better to tell him now than let this drag on. But you're scared. He still hasn't responded to any of your advances and though his reaction to you is very on the he-probably-likes-you-too side; maybe he is just extra shy now that you are alone. You don't want to blow your horns and think he'll accept your confession because of some stupid note and caramel. At the end of the day, you want to confess without having to worry about him not seeing all of you.
Maybe he'll like the responsible you more. Maybe he'll like the playful you more. Maybe he'll like the shy you more. Or maybe he'll like the you in the notes who has still no personality but is a secret admirer. You don't know what he'll like but you hope he likes the you that makes him blush, send him a bucket full of tooth-rotting sweets and the one that fights with Chenle for a second and is super sweet the other.
"I don't know but I don't think I'll accept their confession," he said, biting his lips and your face pales.
This is an indirect rejection.
"O-oh, why?" you ask, trying to smile at him but your eyes begin to sting. You've always been good at holding back tears but the stinging still felt like shit.
"I h-have someone I like," he blinks, dropping his head to his hands and you hear the sound of your heartbreak.
Of course, he does.
Maybe, you were just conceited.
NINE.
And with singing birds—you finally cry.
Right now the songbirds you usually enjoy listening to make your heart feel even heavier, dropping to your stomach and the feeling of nausea rushes up to your mouth as you push your bedroom door open and fall flat into your pillow.
"AAARRRGGGHHH!" you scream, your lungs burn and cry for oxygen as you swing your legs vigorously in the air and let your hot tears bubble down.
Your mind is the void.
Sobbing into your pillow for hours, your mind shutting itself down and fatigue is the only thing your body is accompanied by. You couldn’t lift your head, change out of your uniform or even stop yourself from shaking. So what if it was only you who was vocal about liking him, that doesn’t stop him from liking someone who is not you. Even though you were prepared for it, you weren’t and maybe that’s why it’s called a crush then again.
The feeling you felt when he said he likes someone was the atmosphere crushing your lungs and it burning, screaming for air, it was horrid is all you remember of it. You kept up your act though even after that. Acting curious about the person he likes and why he wants to find the person behind the sweets and notes. It wasn’t hard to fake being fine but you couldn’t help cutting your so-called date short and running back home. The nagging in the back of your head, telling you to get over it. Nothing good would come out of crying, all you could do now was to win his favour over whoever else, you think, staring at the ceiling of your room as you slowly turn to lay on your back and switch your red lights on.
It wasn’t long until you heard the voice of your mother, the opening and shutting of your front door and the thudding sound of his footsteps rocketing to your room.
“Red light is SOS!” Chenle said in between pants, holding himself up with palms on his knees and not so subtly skimming you head-to-toe.
“Hi, Lele,” you said weakly lifting yourself off your bed.
“You never use the SOS light anymore,” he points, latching onto your forearm and shaking you firmly, “What happened? And don’t bother skipping any of it.” he glares as you sigh, pushing his hands off you and you pull your knees to your chest. His eyes follow your every move, he nudges you to start speaking.
“Should I give up on Jisung?” you ask, in a soft croaking voice, pressing your eyes flush on your arms.
“Tell me what happened and I’ll help.” Chenle widens his eyes, picking your head up to meet your eyes and you feel the heat of a single tear roll down the side.
Chenle grabs the back of your neck and presses your face against his shoulder and you start bawling at point-blank. Chenle knows you need to let it out more than anything right now. You always came crying to him whenever you didn’t know what to do and you always solved your problems after a cry but you need someone to hold you. You said crying alone and crying to a person was different but he doesn’t understand the difference. What he does know though is — Park Jisung is going to have it from him for making you cry and turn the SOS lights on.
He felt your hiccups throughout his body as you sluggishly wiped your swollen eyes and your runny nose with the back of your hands. Usually, you would yell at him for being so unhygienic but once in a while is okay. You push him off your bed and he sighs, watching you grab your home clothes and leave your room, taking loud breaths through your stuffy nose.
“I should call Hyunjin,”
TEN.
“W-why is Hyunjin here?”
Poking your head into your room, you were with the sight of Hyunjin ripping Chenle’s hair out of his scalp. Her hair tied in a bun, her whitened knuckles pressing into his head and his awfully pale complexion told you half the story. You shut the door entering your room and the two of them let each other go, still muttering under their breaths and you look in between with raised brows, pushing your lips forward, nodding slowly.
“Did you invite her, Lele?” you ask, sitting beside Hyunjin and resting your head on her shoulder.
“He said you were crying,” she said, her finger pointing at him accusatory and you shake your head, bringing her arm down and intertwining your fingers with hers. “He didn’t make you cry?”
“Nope, it was Jisung who made me cry,” you scoff, tying your arms across your chest and huffing, “How could that sweet, bundle of cuteness make me cry?” you ask bitterly, glaring at Chenle.
“What exactly did he do?” Chenle asks, crawling to sit directly in front of you and adjacent to Hyunjin on your bedroom’s carpeting. For once you were grateful for the ugly carpet Chenle’s mother gifted you. “If you don’t start talking, I am going to assume you missed having me over,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you gag at his words.
“Me? Miss you? I could never, I see you too often to even get rid of your perfume on my stuff.”
Clearing your throat, you started, “Anyways, I cried because Jisung likes someone.”
Turning to stare at you in a way that mirrors each other, Hyunjin and Chenle drop their jaws at you and you shrug with a heavy sigh, “I know, stupid.”
“But still, he said he’ll reject the person giving him the note and sweets,” you continue as they nod at your words, bemused expressions on their faces with frowning lips and raised brows. “And obviously, I am the person giving him those. So… it felt like he rejected me and now I think I am stupid for crying over indirect rejections and a boy’s right to like someone who isn’t me!” you bite your lips together, glaring at the pair sitting with you because they who don’t react.
“So, he said he has someone he likes?” Hyunjin drags, eyeing Chenle, rapidly blinking and he immediately nods, “YES! He does but he doesn’t know if he is just following her lead or…” Chenle trails turning silent when you look at him with wide eyes.
“What does that mean?” you prod, leaning into his space and he nervously lets out a chopped chuckle, scrambling off your carpet before you could stop him, he was out the door and within a minute, you notice the room across your window light up and Chenle yells sorry, through his window and draws the curtains leaving you more confused than you were.
ELEVEN.
I think I am starting to like strawberries.
Your heart gives out at the almost crinkled paper you under his desk the next morning. You found your legs walking on autopilot, early this morning and by the time you noticed you were at school, you were standing in front of Jisung’s table and searching for a reply.
Taking it back with you to your class, you were stopped at the front of his classroom’s door, bumping into a squishy surface that fell backwards like you. Hissing, you focus your eyes on the figure but before recognising him by sight, your ears pick on his embarrassed gasping instead.
“Oh w-why are you here?” he asks, entering the class and looking from you to his seat and back to you again, his hands climbing up to cover his slackening jaws and he blurts out, “Wow,”
The small classroom got smaller, trapping in the heat and your face flushes with the colour of love and everything in between, taking steps backwards but Jisungs grips your wrists and asks, “Have you been the one leaving me sweets and notes?”
Scratching the back of your head, you stiffly smile and your eyes peel away from him, feeling your breakfast rollercoaster to your throat, awakening the butterflies on the way and your heart drops to its place, your skin boiling on your cheeks and where his hands hug your wrist. Your mind going blank, you drop your eyes to the floor, pulling your wrist from his hand and bolting out of his classroom as he yells at you to wait, you hear his footsteps behind you and as he catches up to you, you sharply turn back and face him, holding your palm up towards him and scream, “Stop!”
“So what if it's me?” you cry, clenching your eyes shut and you hear the shuffling of his indoor shoes, approaching you. “You sai—”
“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU? The meeting is starting!” you hear, silencing at the call of your name and you burn even brighter as you note the closed distance between the two of you and you gulp, taking a leave to the voice that called you mumbling a small, “Sorry.”
TWELVE.
Jisung was more dazed today than usual and he hasn’t said a word since the morning with a constantly taken aback expression and red ears that didn’t seem to cool down even as the periods passed. Chenle and Sunghoon sit in front of him, staring at his face and sighing for the nth time when Chenle leans into his ears and blows against it. Jumping with a hollow screech, Jisung yelps, throwing his hands up and squaring up at Chenle, blinking and letting out a whine.
“You could have just called my name!” he exclaims, slapping Chenle’s side with a groan.
“You were dreaming off,” Sunghoon scoffs, kicking his leg on Jisung’s table, “What is so interesting that you'll ignore us?"
Humming to himself, he leant forward and the two mimicked him, "Did you know that…" Jisung looks around, leaning further in. "That, Y/N was the one leaving the notes?"
Gasping, Sunghoon and Chenle widen their eyes, turning to face each other. How did he find out, they thought, shaky eyes immediately finding the door and in a sprint, the duo ran out of the door down the hallway and slammed your class's door open and yelled your name, "He found out!" they said in unison.
You felt chills go down your spine, jumping at their volume and you hiss, "Tone it down, asshole,"
"Bu—" "But Jisung found out!" Sunghoon sneers back, cutting Chenle off.
Shaking your head, you sighed watching them grab empty chairs and crowd around you, Hyunjin stared at the two of them and she said, "She was just telling me."
"Jisung saw me take the note this morning," you said, tying your arms and nodding at the two of them. "I didn't hear him out though, I ran away because I got overwhelmed."
Gapping at you, Chenle sighs in relief and he lets his head fall on the table in front of him and Sunghoon slumps in his chair, Jisung watching the interaction from the entrance of the classroom.
"You all knew?" Jisung fumes, stomping over to your spot and you spring up from your chair, trying to escape but his friends hold you there, shaking their heads.
"Running away won't help," they said in unison again and Hyunjin nodded, pulling you to your chair as he approached you.
And hence your fate was decided by your friends as if it were a court. This evening, you were going to sort out your situation.
THIRTEEN.
The first line of this story is a lie.
In love with Jisung, you left notes with words to him in the guise of anonymity because you were afraid.
The painted skies set your heart on fire, lovebirds singing confessions into your ears and Jisung's silhouette stands at the gate waiting for you with his bag, tapping his feet and messing with his hair. The rapid hammering of your heart so loud in your head, you couldn't even come up with cohesive ways to call him out, sneaking behind him and you poke the side of his arm.
"A-ah!" he jumps, bringing his hands to his chest and snapping towards you, "O-oh it's only you," he sighs, leaning back on the gate's wall.
Jisung takes a deep breath, standing up straight and tucking his arms aligned with his body, "So, let's talk as we walk," he smiles, slipping your bag from your shoulder and swinging it over his shoulders.
Staring at him, you shuffle on your spot confusedly and scratch the back of your head, "Why are you carrying my bag?" you ask, walking alongside him.
"Consider this second date," Jisung shrugs, grinning at you.
Pausing, you gap at him and hint, "Okaaay," was this going too fast for you because you didn't expect him to take the lead here.
You were always one step ahead of him and now he was two steps ahead of you, catching you off guard. The smile felt more natural than the rest of the time and somehow, the sky's hues of romance glazed over him a tint that pink that made him all the more heart fluttering, erupting butterflies and taking your breath away.
Park Jisung as a ten-year-old was a pipe dream, a boy who was just like you who played with Chenle when you weren't and the boy with the brightest smile, funny hair and he was cuter than all other boys you ever met.
Park Jisung, today, pulls you at the seam of your heart and coaxes you to trust him, follow his lead, open yourself to him and you can't stop yourself when you blurt out your words or confession, this time abruptly, unprovoked and wholly for him to hear from you to him; with a prayer to the heavens asking for your feelings to reach him.
“It was you I first fell in love with,”
He freezes, his and your bag falling to the side. A rush of air suffocates his lungs, blinkering as he turns to face your flushed self, reflecting the setting skies and your blizzardous emotions, your eyes don't leave him, staring at him with a glint of relief that was somehow wavering as the seconds slip through his hands, if there was a moment in time he would want to encapsulate, it was this.
The perfect ending for his secret admirer, pink sticky note and candy would be you.
You always smell like strawberry, teasing him with your gaze and bantering with his friends without hiding your feelings for him but you were always nicer, softer and gentler with him. Like a split personality, he has never seen you as mellow as you are with him and he has never seen your shy smile when it wasn't for him, he loves the thought of you more than the aimless daydreaming and he adores the pink skies, singing birds and this moment more than anything could ever come.
"Stop being so cute," he said, biting his lips to stop himself from grinning any wider, taking a hefty breath and wrapping his arms around your shoulder, pressing you flush against him.
"You're the cute one though," you mumble into him, your heart feeling weightless and almost like floating on the clouds.
Peeking at his face, you pull away from him and smile as you pick up your bags, swinging them on your shoulder. Intertwining your fingers with his, you sheepishly ask, "Since when did you like me? Before the note or after?"
Stumbling over his feet, he balanced himself to prevent himself from crashing into the ground and fluttering his lashes at you as you laugh, helping him to stand straight. You dust away the non-existent dust from his uniform, linking your arms with him as he sighs, moistening his lips that he didn't notice get so dry.
Jisung clears his throat, intertwining your fingers this time, "I like Y/N, that's why I am rejecting the secret admirer."
"But it seems they're both the same person, so I scored two with one goal."
"Wow, are you comparing me to football?" you scoff, blinking at him with an offence.
Shaking his head, giggling he shrugs, "I am part of the football team, being obsessed with football is part of the package." Jisung jokes, scrunching his nose at you and you grin at him, stifling your laughter.
"Does going to the parfait place sound okay?" you ask, pulling at his fingers.
"Sounds like a date then."
©KDYISM, 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | REPOST
#nct-writers#cznnet#kdiner#nct x reader#park jisung x reader#nct dream x reader#jisung x reader#nct dream jisung x reader#nct imagines#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct scenarios#jisung imagines#park jisung fluff
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happy jongho day!
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happy birthday to ateez’s insanely talented, handsome, strong, kind maknae!! thank u for being in ateez and striking fear into the hearts of fruit <33 i hope u have a lovely day 💞
#kpc.creators#kdiner#ateezlovenet#destinyversenet#atinysource#kpopgfxnetwork#malegroupsnet#idolsincedits#ateez#jongho#choi jongho#ateez jongho#jongho gifs#ateez gifs#c:gifs#jongho day#jongho day 2021#el hombre de las manzanas
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mint and minecraft ; c.s
requested by @gyukult (7 + soulmates au) for my milestone celebration !!
pairing ; soulmate!san x reader (gender-neutral) ft. neighbor!seonghwa
summary ; in which your soulmate moves in with the neighbor you have a crush on.
themes ; angst, slight fluff, soulmates au, neighbors au
words ; 3.6k
warnings / includes ; cursing, implications of losing a loved one, general sadness, happy ending :D, reader is a lonely hermit, san is a loser but he's a cute loser, seonghwa is the best friend everyone needs, mint chocolate ice cream debacles
a/n ; gah i'm sorry i took so long with this and ,, it's not my best work but </3 at least we get dorky san !!! i hope you like it gyu cries sorry i couldn't make oc more like you WKJKDJF i rlly tried ;-;
masterlist.
There was nary a moment in your life that you ever recalled wishing ill to your soulmate. Sure, the crude words imprinted across the inside of your wrist were less than savory to read, but you would never go so far as to hope they’d step on a lego or anything just as malicious. Although, taping your wrist to obstruct the offending phrase from the rest of society’s view admittedly grew to be an annoyance. I’m going to shove a stick so far up your ass your eyes fall out was what it read. You could only hope that it wasn't directed towards you.
Today, however, your clean track of ill wishes was no longer the squeaky crystal slate it once was. You were thinking anything but positive thoughts for your soulmate, mentally cursing them to oblivion.
“Oh… you have a soulmate? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Seonghwa, your cute neighbor that you’ve very much been harboring not-so-subtle feelings for, tilted his head to the side upon seeing the dark marks etched in your skin. Up until now, you were sure he reciprocated your interest, but he made it abundantly clear he wouldn’t want to be involved with anybody with a soulmate brand. Messing with the sticky webs of fate wasn’t a part of his life agenda, it seemed.
Curse destiny. You didn’t even really want a soulmate.
Heat flourished over the apples of your cheeks, a blazing inferno crawling through your skin. You quickly moved your wrist behind you so that he wouldn’t be able to read what it said. The situation was already embarrassing enough as it is.
“Never came up,” you answered lamely, knowing that was a pathetic attempt to lie because you and Seonghwa have broached the topic of soulmates several times. Waving your other hand in a limp, dejected fashion, you offered him a meek slant of your lips. “Sorry.” There goes the one chance of romance you’ve had in longer than a year.
Before your neighbor could respond, the sudden loud clamoring and shouts emitting from his house’s direction had both of your heads swivelling to the white picket fence separating your lawns.
An unfamiliar handsome man stood on Seonghwa’s side, cropped-short raven hair glistening with sweat, as was his very shirtless chest. Anger splayed across his sharp features as he glared at your neighbor with the intensity of a dozen suns, and you couldn’t help but skeptically wonder just what Seonghwa did to him. You directed a questioning glance towards your ex-crush, who heaved out a sigh and pinched the space between his brows.
“I’m going to shove a stick so far up your ass your eyes fall out!” he shrieked in a particularly high register, flailing a clenched fist about in the air.
Your heart dropped to the floor.
What did he just say?
Incredulous, your pupils flickered down to the words on your wrist. The same words stared back at you, bold and unchanging. You blinked once, then twice. A third time for good measure.
Oh, shit.
“Did you throw away all my fucking mint chocolate chip ice cream? You asshole!” The mystery man continued to wildly babble on, carding a hand through his short tresses. He hadn’t even noticed you were there, an angry gaze fixated on your sheepish neighbor.
Your soulmate liked mint chocolate chip ice cream. What were you to do with this information?
“It was expired,” Seonghwa replied in a haughtily defensive tone.
“I bought it yesterday?!”
With an amused chortle, the man beside you turned back to fix you with a pointed gaze, momentarily glimpsing back down to your wrist, but his irises were quick to return back to your face. “I guess I have to head back before San’s head explodes. I can’t stand mint choco ice cream.”
Your soulmate’s name is San. An uneasy lump formed in the back of your throat.
Before Seonghwa could step down from your porch, you blurted out, breathless, “Who is he?” Was that the thunder of your pulse roaring in your ears or was it about to rain?
Those pretty lips of his puckered to the side as he replied, “A friend of mine. Also known as my new roommate. Might not be for much longer, though. I can’t seem to peacefully listen to ASMR when he’s just in the other room, screaming at Yunho in minecraft.”
Your soulmate plays minecraft. You would’ve found the thought amusing if it weren’t for such a heavy revelation prowling rampant in your cavernous thoughts.
A fake smile crept across your lips as you waved Seonghwa farewell. It wasn’t hard to notice the way San’s blistering stare bore into you as you dawdled on your porch. He lifted a hand to wave at you, questionably enlivened for someone who had just been yelling obscenities two seconds ago. You didn’t wave back.
Your soulmate was living next door to you with your ex crush. With a disdained sniff, you shoved your hands into the pockets of your frayed jeans; whether it was because the wind was whispering chills into your bones or because you didn’t want to risk catching sight of the foul words embedded into your skin, you couldn’t tell. The door slammed none too gently behind you.
It was a gloomy Sunday when Seonghwa invited you over for dinner.
As reluctant as you were to go, you eventually caved in at the prospect of free food. The door swung open as he greeted you with a neighborly grin, stepping to the side to allow you into his home.
Your eyes swept over the living room, warm tones of amber and beige accentuating his otherwise pale living room. If not for the candles casting an earthly glow throughout the room, the dark skies would’ve made for quite the macabre atmosphere. Seonghwa, ever the gentleman, offered to hang your coat up for you, and you had to shove away the incessant fluttering feeling within your abdomen, pointedly avoiding his gaze.
“Hope you don’t mind. I ordered pasta for dinner.”
“That’s fine with me,” came your off-hand reply. Your line of sight traced the pictures hung up on the wall, most of them bearing Seonghwa in various stages of his life. It felt as if someone had stuck a lighter beneath your heart when your eyes landed on an unfamiliar picture, looking exactly like a mini version of San.
Your soulmate.
You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t lost sleep mulling over that man. Someone you barely even knew, embedded his words into your skin and inked your wretched fate into a system that you didn’t even trust. It was safe to say that your mind had swiftly tricked you into disliking a man before he’s even uttered a word towards you.
“San!” Seonghwa leaned against the staircase’s bannister, as he hollered out, “Come have dinner!”
Several thuds thundered from above, which you presumed to be his none-too-delicate footsteps. It felt as if a boot had landed against your ribs, knocking all the air from your lungs once he came bounding down, a loose beam twisting his lips. He was quite the striking man, even that you couldn’t deny. A fitted long-sleeved shirt hung off his broad shoulders, and short strands of his hair were styled in an upwards sweep.
“Hi! I’m San. You must be Y/N, right? Sorry for what you saw the other night. I got a little…” With a bashful flush, he gestured to his head whilst whistling a high-pitched arc in an indication of his slip in temperament that fateful evening. You merely arched an eyebrow in response, nodding stoically in acknowledgement.
He seemed taken aback with your reaction, or lack thereof, smile fading into a ghostly purse. Finding even the thinnest shrapnel of guilt within you proved to be a difficult feat. You, quite frankly, wanted nothing to do with this man. Fate had no right telling you who you belonged with.
The heavy atmosphere lingered and festered until Seonghwa clapped his hand once, pointing to the dining room and ushering the both of you to take your seats.
Silence was merely the noise of the unheard, you came to realize when you took your seat. So many voices, yet so quiet the room. It was painfully obvious how Seonghwa eyed you warily, as if he wanted to ask you about your soulmate. Who is he? What does your tattoo say? Why didn’t you tell me?
Instead, your neighbor conjured an elaborate anecdote involving an empty wine bottle and burnt pancakes and irritated firefighters. You huffed out a wisp of a laugh, but said nothing in reply, merely twirling your fork and downing the free dinner in a wolvish manner. The quicker you ate, the quicker you’d be out of here.
The mere prospect of speaking in front of your soulmate left a bitter taste in the back of your throat. Perhaps if you just never spoke, the topic would never be broached.
San was also uncharacteristically mute, pathetically staring into his spaghetti to avoid your gaze. If you hadn’t known any better, it seemed your soulmate was scared of you. Your thoughts only confirmed themselves when you reached over the table for salt, and he flinched away, so much so that his fork stumbled from his grip and clattered to the floor, crimson spidering through his face as he flushed deeply.
The softest mumble fell past his barely-opened lips, “Sorry.”
“Don’t use the same fork, that one’s dirty,” Seonghwa gently scolded while plucking the utensil out of his roommate’s hand. “I’ll get you a new one, hang on.”
As he disappeared behind the kitchen, you turned to San. The blush was still there, stark and prominent. You didn’t even realize you were grinning like a lunatic until the man across from you leaned his elbows onto the table and queried in a reticent tone, “Why are you smiling? Is there something on my face?”
“I like that you’re afraid of me,” you said before thinking twice. Now was quite possibly the least appropriate time to joke around. You knew better than to play a game of cat and mouse with your soulmate you really wanted nothing to do with.
The ambience suddenly turned icy, and time frosted still. San was visibly shocked, nose twitching as his mouth fell agape. He struggled for words, lips trembling.
So much for having a civil dinner. Just what have you done?
“What did you say?”
Was it just the dim lighting, or were his eyes suddenly glassy?
“I…” You paused to study the intricate furrow of his brows, the firm setting of his jaw. “Nothing.”
San drew himself backwards at this, exasperation lacing his visage. “No, it’s not nothing.” The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood abruptly, hurriedly bunching his left shirt sleeve up to his elbow and thrusting the appendage towards you. Recoiling, you made the mistake of reading the words depicted across his inner wrist. You knew it to be true, but seeing it physically made it far too real, too close, too sudden. “Those are the first words I’ve heard you say. Are you my soulmate?”
You wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the brazen question.
The door swung open and Seonghwa sauntered back in, merry with obliviousness, a handful of glinting forks in his palm. “Sorry I took so long, I wanted to polish these off before anybody used them. Usually I would’ve done it beforehand, but—” The words caught in his throat as he looked away from the now-shiny cutlery to the strange situation at hand. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” you said abruptly, standing up as well.
“You’re not saying no,” San bristled. “What does your tattoo say? It’s something I’ve said, isn’t it?”
From the corner of your eye, you could see Seonghwa’s gaze flit back and forth between the two of you in both befuddlement and mild annoyance. All he really wanted was a simple dinner with his neighbor.
“That’s none of your business,” you uttered hotly, pressing your wrist close to your chest protectively. “I don’t know you.”
Regret flashed in your soulmate’s eyes. He retracted his arm and it fell limply by his side. “Wouldn’t you like to?”
It was as if you could pinpoint the exact moment you broke his heart when you whispered out with the pain of swallowing glass shards, “No.”
The slightest flower of understanding blossomed across Seonghwa’s visage, the revelation leaving him stunned speechless.
“I’m sorry,” you said, backing away from the table, away from San. “Thanks for the dinner Seonghwa.”
The two men remained as silent as skeletons when you ambled towards the door and hurried back home.
Lounging about in sweatpants and buckets of saccharine ice cream condensating on your lap was supposed to be a fun activity. The little blue tub you were clutching onto seemed to now be your only source of comfort.
Take it upon your ex-crush to ruin that for you.
The doorbell ringing jolted you out of your mindless haze, and you nimbly placed the ice cream on the coffee table, hurrying to answer the door. You probably looked like the embodiment of hell, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.
Seonghwa’s almost shy smile made you reluctant to be angry at him. How could you, when he was so sweet to you? A part of you wondered if the two of you would’ve been together in another universe where you didn’t have the damned soulmate mark.
“Are you okay?” were the first words he asked you, eyes shiny and round. If he noticed your haggard semblance, he didn’t comment on it.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Okay would be stretching it.”
It surprised you when he spread his arms out, beckoning to you with a tilt of his head.
“I don’t need a hug.”
“Then I’ll drop my arms and walk away. Your call.”
With a horridly exaggerated roll of your eyes, you planted yourself forward and wrapped your arms around Seonghwa’s midriff. He smelled nice, like comfort and home with the faintest hint of vanilla. The two of you stayed like that for just a minute, before he craned his head downwards to peer at you. “Thank you,” you susurrated into the soft fabric of his white hoodie. Seonghwa merely hummed in reply.
“It’s not fair, you know,” it scared you just how raw your voice sounded, laced with fatigue and bone-weariness, “some people don’t even get one soulmate. Like you. But I already had one. Before… before San. And… and when they disappeared… my tattoo disappeared along with them. Then one morning, out of the blue, I woke up to a new soulmate mark. I thought it was impossible. Felt like fate was taking pity on me. I don’t want some cheap rebound destiny thrusted into my arms.”
One thing you admired so much about Seonghwa was his ability to glue back even the most shattered. It occurred to you that perhaps you never really had true feelings for him, but you just wanted to feel whole again, however selfish that was.
His touch was soft as he flattened his palms over your shoulders. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I heard losing a soulmate is like losing a part of yourself.”
You nodded.
“I think you should talk to San.” The exasperated glare you cast his way had him grimacing. “Not now, of course. When you’re ready.”
A huff of a sigh slipped out of your lungs, and you hunched over slightly, screwing your eyes shut. Would you ever be ready?
“He’s a big romantic, you know. Been dreaming about meeting his soulmate his whole life. Said he was so lucky to have one. I’m not saying you should… you know… be his soulmate, per se, but that brand on your wrist shouldn’t stop you from being friends.” Seonghwa regarded you with a wary look, speaking carefully, worried that he’s overstepped any boundaries.
You, being friends with San? A part of you internally scoffed, but the other part craved for bridging the gap that you’ve so desperately tried to create.
“Okay.”
A magnificent smile graced Seonghwa’s lips. “Yeah?”
The faintest of grins touched yours as well. Your neighbor always had a way of making you feel better. “Yeah.”
It took you around a week and far too many tubs of ice cream to muster the courage to speak to your soulmate. The wood felt cool beneath your knuckles as you rapped three times on his door, in tandem with the quick thumping of your heart.
“Y/N?” San’s voice sounded groggy, as if you had just jostled him out of slumber. Along with his rumpled thin shirt and slackened grey sweats, his hair stuck up every which way, and you found it kinda cute how he hid a yawn behind a fist and blinked at you blearily. “What’re you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“Sounds serious,” he commented behind sleepy yawn. “You wanna come in?”
The door parted enough for you to slide through. You avoided his gaze, instead peering around the cluttered room. There were plushies strewn everywhere, posters of several marvel movies plastered along the walls, a bookshelf of thriller novels set off to the side, and a large gaming console set up in the corner of the room. It was all so San that you couldn’t help but laugh slightly at his stiff figure in the doorway.
Your soulmate was a nerd.
“If I knew you were coming, I would’ve cleaned up more,” he said off-handedly while picking up the soft plushies on the floor.
“No, it’s nice.” You waved your hands in dismissal. “I like Iron Man too.”
San smiled just slightly at that, but it was quick to fade. “So, uhm, what did you want to talk about?”
Your eyes finally met with his and you exhaled a deep breath. “I… I wanted to apologize. I really shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. It was rude and inconsiderate and… I’m so sorry. This probably wasn’t how you envisioned meeting your soulmate, huh?”
A loose chuckle left San and he shook his head, “Thought there’d be a lot more screams of joy instead of angry yelling. I’m also sorry for being so forward.”
You winced at that, but dipped your head in acknowledgement of his apology.
After a gentle beat of silence, you moved to roll your sleeve up just enough to show him your tattoo. You thought he deserved to see.
“I’m going to shove a stick so far… Oh my fucking God, I’m so sorry,” San cupped his hands over his mouth in horror, ogling at you with an air of trepidation. “I can’t believe that’s been on your wrist for this long, I’m so sorry.”
His panic made you snort in laughter. “It’s not that bad, really. Way funnier than my last brand.”
The atmosphere froze over once more, and San rounded on you with a curious look. “You had another soulmate?”
“I did.” You shrugged. “They’re gone now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.”
Gulping, San scratched the back of his neck before uttering, “Well, for what it’s worth, I accept your apology. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m happy just being your neighbor.”
“And how about friends?” The question surprised the both of you.
The beam that your soulmate directed towards you had a strange feeling you unmistakably knew as fondness blossoming within your ribcage.
“I’d like that,” San replied, the corners of his eyes creasing with how widely he was smiling. Then, he gestured to his laptop with an air of excitement. “If you aren’t busy or anything, you wanna play a video game? Maybe watch a movie?”
Too forward, you thought, slightly bemused. Jesus, being friends with him is going to be exhausting.
“Sure,” you found yourself saying. “What’re we playing?”
The rest of the afternoon consisted of playful quips and jovial teasing (because you absolutely destroyed San’s ego), the lively music of the video game he picked blaring through his speakers. At one point, Seonghwa even came in telling the two of you to keep it down, though neither of you took him seriously because he was grinning quite fondly at the both of you.
Soft pattering of rain hitting the rooftop a little after didn’t go unnoticed by you, and your pupils flitted from the luminescent screen to his window, observing the dark clouds weeping in the sky.
“Here, wear this if it gets too cold.” San twisted in his chair to blindly grab a dark hoodie hanging off his bed, refusing to tear his eyes away from the screen. “Don’t want you catching a cold in this weather.”
What a loser. He’s way too nice, you thought, but gratefully took the thick fabric nonetheless. To distract yourself, you slipped the warm cotton over your head, burying your nose in its collar. It smelled just like him, a concoction of sweet mint and something warm and raw, purely San. A part of you was alarmed at just how much you relished the scent.
The heartbreakingly handsome smile he shot your way had your heart stuttering out obscenities. It was quickly followed by a shout of protest when you picked up the console and proceeded to shoot at his character with a challenging cackle.
Healing was a slow, tedious process. Healing took time, far too much time. You knew that firsthand. Healing was an internal war that you fought with yourself every day, a battle of bones and hearts and pain, so much pain. Healing meant ripping yourself apart before glue was even in the picture. And despite all this, you were happy that you now had San to hold your pieces together while your tears dried.
Perhaps having another soulmate wasn’t so bad.
#ficscafe#kdiner#destinyversenet#ateez x reader#san x reader#ateez soulmate#ateez soulmate au#ateez san x reader#choi san x reader#ateez fanfiction#ateez fanfic#san fanfiction#san fanfic#ateez x you#san x you#ateez drabbles#ateez scenarios#san drabbles#san scenarios
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K.HJ | Doro Theou
DemiGod!Hongjoong x GN!Pirate!Reader
The sea is your love and your enemy.
She carries you on your adventures and toward your death.
Your one true love who shall never leave your feet, a constant that shall remain. And you shall never leave one another, for you both are made for each other.
That is until she brings you something unexpected.
Title: Doro Theou
Listen To:
Low Hum — Comatose
Ateez — Pirate King
Kawaye — Sweetest Life
Corbyn — Dantes Valley
Jungle — Cherry
Ateez — Wonderland
Taemin — Drip Drop
Michael Seyer — Lucky Love
Hope Tala — Cherries
Dre’es — Warm
DPR IAN — So Beautiful
Kylie Minogue — Chocolate
BMTH — Can You Feel My Heart
Ateez — Beginning of The End
Contains: Fluff, angst; (mentions of alcohol, swearing, death, very mild violence) | AU: Romance, Strangers-to-lovers, Slowburn | W.C. 41k+
A/N: Happy birthday to meeee! This is a VERY long slowburn and I appreciate anyone who reads. This was originally written with fem pronouns, so if you spot any being used for reader please let me know, I tried to take all fem pronouns for reader out. I hope you enjoy, I put a lot into this <3
The sea has a soul; a harbourer of darkness with the tenacity of a storm and the lull of a gentle breeze in a wind chime.
It is both serenity and turmoil.
I stared its soul dead in the eye as it consumed me overwhelmingly so, panic subdued, overtaken by a foreign feeling of calm, the sea singing a hymn that only its victims know. The absence of the night stars and its mother, the moon, leaving an eigengrau sky.
Or maybe, that was just what death looked like.
“Hang tight lads! The sea wants to play.”
Seabreeze whips at the grin on your face— a grin that portrays your brave and wild heart that seeks to conquer— proving how unbothered you are by the vicious waters that wishes to wage war as you guide your crew and your fair lady, Hecate, through the blunders of the sea.
The sun still fairs high in the sky, giving light to the once tranquil waters that all at once suddenly became perturbed, baring the seas soul for what it truly is; shallow waves soon personify the unhinged jaws of Hades hounds, coming in hastily and unwavering, the sun dulling behind woven clusters of darkening clouds that brought with it vehement gusts of wind, strong enough to knock any mortal to their arse.
You weren’t just any mortal, though your heart pounds and you bleed as one; you are the conqueror of the sea. Part of the furniture really by now, and you’d be damned if you were going to cower to it.
Over the yawns screeching into wails, you yell orders to your crew, seawater climbing onto the decks and spraying you with its salty tears. The ship holds steady, your voice that fights to climb above the startling sounds of thunder that give its own order for torrential rain, bringing sharp pelts that feel like shards of glass against your skin, soon grow strained. Yet it doesn’t deter you as you keep your grip on the smooth wood of the wheel, even as the water washes away any ounce of friction to make your hands slip.
Using all your strength to steer against the sea’s force you give a yell of “BRACE YOURSELVES LADS!”
The ship swerves heavily, bringing about more water to gush over the ship's side and sending many of your crew sliding against the floor as it rocks against the waves.
It seems that the sea's wrath will rage well into the night. Yet all at once the waves reign in as if they had never been raging to begin with. The clouds unweave from one another and disperse, drops of rain fading into nothing with only the beating rays of Apollo's sun falling over the expanse of water in shimmers like falling diamonds.
The air is always strange after the sea bears its anger to the world. Silence feels eerie rather than comforting, the stir of water echoing in your ears despite having long stopped, yet when it does fade from your ears, they feel clogged, like you’re beneath the surface rather than on top of it. Soon the murmurs of your crew are clear as day among the world that remains uncharacteristically quiet, unmoving, leaving you panting heavily with your iron grip curled around the wheel.
Then in harmony you all rejoice.
“AHHHHHHH!” Victory speaks like a spell, one that signifies your stand against the sea that has yet to take you captive.
“Our Goddess Hecate still blesses us in her leave!” Meli’s palm lands heavy and warm on your shoulder, prompting you to look at her. The seasalt dries in the tight coils of her hair, the sun glowing against her bilberry skin like the meaning of her name, honey.
“Or it’s that the Gods decided not to waste something as sweet as you to the underworld, Meli.” You tease. She only laughs, shaking her head as she fixes her blood-red bandana.
“How off course are we then?”
She moves from the helm to lay a map and her compass on a flat surface, eyes moving from the crinkled and worn sheet to the horizon. Even without her calculations, it is abundantly clear that the sudden storm has caused you to stray from your path.
“Captain, Olympus above— a man!” Oddeye draws the attention of not just you, but everyone on board as he looks out into the water. Like a magnet, you’re all drawn starboard and it is then that you see what Oddeye saw— indeed a man. “OI, LADDIE!” Of course, he’s unresponsive.
Your brows draw together, staring upon his body bobbing along the water, not sure whether he’s dead or alive. “Bring him in.”
He’s fairly small and you half expect his body to be battered and bruised— especially if he was caught in the sudden storm— though the only thing on him that seems to be evidence of a battering is his shirt hanging from him like a torn rag. Your crew pulls him in and you can’t help but to admire his features that seem so soft, especially under the kiss of the sun.
Seonghwa presses his fingers to the pulsepoint on his neck and lowers his ear to hover over his lips. “He’s still breathing.”
“Get him inside and sort him out, Hwa.” Seonghwa nods, ordering a couple other deckhands to bring him down.
“Captain, don’t you think it strange to find a man this far out and alive?”
Your eyes leave the young man to smile at Meli. “You know how much I love strange things.”
Oddeye follows you both back to the helm, a troubled look on his face. “We’ve known you long enough to know that, Captain.” He pauses, mulling over his next words. “But I also know that look in your eyes— when you’ve really taken a shine to something.” You open your mouth to protest, not sure what he means when you only looked upon the man for mere seconds. But Oddeye holds a rough wrinkled hand up, calmly regarding you. “I’m just sayin’ Captain, keep a weather eye open, ey?”
“Of course. The crew comes first, Oddeye.” You promise.
You both look to Meli, who pushes herself up with a sigh. “We’re about a day off course, Captain. Head North.”
“Aye, aye.”
—
Darkness blankets his vision— or rather, his brain is unable to conjure anything else under his closed lids, too feverish as tremors run through him aggressively, slivers of overbearing heat making him feel as if his skin is melting away over a bed of lava. The sinews of his muscles, deeper into his bones ache, and has his body twisting in staggering pain. A whimper crawls from the shadows of his throat, teeth clenching as his pulse hammers with the strength of Hercules himself, sending his blood rushing at an inhumane pace.
Am I dead?
His insides heave with the strength of a wave, bringing the air inside of him gushing from his lungs and out his lips; a sudden life returns to him, lungs filling with the air that had been lost to the invasion of the ocean water. Those heat-filled trembles still run through him, making his chest erratically rise and fall. The attempt to open his eyes brings about a dull thud behind his lids, vibrating throughout his head making him wince. “Oh Gods…” He rasps out, clenching his eyes tighter in response to the pain.
Only when his body gains a semblance of strength, slowly awakening enough that he can force the pain down, does he will himself to open his eyes. There's a subtle rocking that he realises isn’t his stomach turning, the motions giving him reason to believe that he is still at sea. Through his blurred vision he tries to piece together his surroundings; dull wooden planks smelling of rot and seasalt make up the small room, the entire structure yawns with each shift along the water, the sound now rushing into his ears. There’s crates pressed against the walls of the room, lines of rope woven around barrels and when his vision clears he can see the small table with a jug and some form of a cup. It’s a struggle to push himself to sit up, one that has his bones yawning like the ship when he moves to rest his head against the wooden wall, head lolling to the side as he pants from the effort.
With a shaky arm he manages to reach over for the jug and cup, water overspilling due to his weak hold. The jug lands heavily on the crate it had occupied, but he doesn’t bear it any mind when he starts to guzzle at the water in an urge to wash away the sandy sensation in his throat. Through deep breaths he studies the room closer, now noticing the slither of moonlight coming through the ceiling— where steps lead to two doors.
The brig?
Shakily, he swings his leg over the makeshift wooden bed that had been laid down with straw and cotton sheets. The mere movement gave away just how weak his body has become, energy nearly completely depleting when his bare feet set on the ground. He sways with the boat, stumbling with his knees buckling and hands reaching out to catch himself against the wall. He tries recalling what could have happened that he’s ended up here, but the attempt makes his head hurt as much as the answer.
Nothing comes to mind, only blanknless, as if his recent memories have been wiped.
It only serves to make him more anxious.
Reaching for his chest, fingers curl around the chain that rests close to his heart and its instinct to recite his mothers words in his head.
“My dearest Hongjoong, our strength lies in our song and the strongest song of all is the beat of our heart. Always find your strength in your heart.”
As if her words are some kind of incantation he feels an otherworldly power start to course through his veins. His weak demeanour immediately shifts to one of a being with the blood of a God and with this profound strength he rushes up the steps and pushes through the air to slam against the upper doors. Seeming effortlessly they crack open, the wood splintering where the iron fastenings have broken open allowing Hongjoong to stumble through.
The sea air burns against his already feverish skin, the soothing sounds of the water doing little to calm the adrenaline making him feel erratic. The moon is full and high in the sky, an abundance of stars lighting its expanse like lanterns of silver. He can’t see anyone, but he clearly hears the guffaw of those nearby.
Swiftly, he carries onward, hiding behind barrels in caution. He needs to think logically, though it is somewhat difficult with his body still fighting to cling to what strength he has.
In his assessment he concludes the obvious: he’s unarmed, on an unknown ship, in the middle of nowhere, with Gods knows how many men on board— their own intentions unknown to him.
Thoughts tangle chaotically in his mind and in the midst of his pondering he fails to notice the subtle steps creeping up behind him and before he knows it there’s a pressure of a cool and sharpened blade against his throat.
“Easy.” He flinches and the blade snags against his throat, the air hitting the open skin until the sting makes him wince. The voice remains calm, calmer than the tornado of anxiety swirling inside him. “We found you.” The stranger tells him. “Floating on the water and pulled you in… had one of my crewmen take care of you…” When you see that he’s listening and deem he’s not a threat, you let out a small inaudible breath of relief. “I’m going to move away slowly. We aren’t here to hurt you.” Keeping your word, you slowly move away from him and instead round to face him.
Unlike the softness of your voice, the image before him is a stark contrast. Whatever expectations he had as to what you would look like soon dissipated upon laying his eyes on your rough skin and unruly hair full of knots and twists.
He blinks when you speak again, eyes meeting yours. “How are you feeling?” You question gently.
He gapes at you for a moment longer, eyes straying over the monotone browns and beiges, to your hand curled around the hilt of your blade at your side. Again his eyes blink, clearing away his surprise as he closes his gaped mouth. “I… I feel confused. I don’t remember… much.”
You study him far more subtlely than he you. His confusion proves evident and you conclude that there is no reason to suspect he’s lying about not being able to recall the moments that led to your discovery of him adrift at sea, but despite that, you heed the echo of Oddeye’s words to be wary of him in your head.
“— Where am I?”
"— What do you remember?”
As you speak over each other it brings a smile to your lips and unexpectedly to Hongjoong’s too, relieving some of the tension in the air.
“You’re on my ship, Hecate.”
A jolt of recognition and curiosity for the chosen name travels through him.
“Oh, you’re sailors?”
You grin impishly and another jolt knocks Hongjoongs insides, though he can’t decipher the cause of this one. “In a way…” You say mysteriously, moving to lean against the ship's side as you regard him. “There was a sudden storm and the waters had gotten rough. Then it stopped as quick as it came and suddenly, there you were. Floating unconscious in the middle of the sea.”
He nods slowly, brows drawing together in thought. “Well, thank you… You saved my life and for that I’m grateful.”
“You should thank your lucky stars— you’re lucky to have survived that far out at sea.”
“Well, luck, a God, I guess they’re the same thing.”
Your head whips around, body immediately becoming alight with warmth and fondness. “Hecate!” You rush forward, no hesitation when you unceremoniously clamp your arms around her. Her thick black hair falls as a heavy plait at her back, her robe smelling of all the spices she works with, wafting up your nose— a smell you find comforting as you squeeze her. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here, my friend?”
She smiles with the gentleness and elegance of a Goddess, peaking around you to look upon her dear nephew, “Just checking in on your new friend.” She leans her body beside you to look on at the supposed new stranger aboard.
You turn your head incredulously. “You know him? Wait…” You pause in thought, looking between the two. “You guided him to us.”
Hecate gives a secretive smile when she responds. “Correct, my dear friend. Sweet Hongjoong was in trouble and I knew if anyone could help, it would be you.”
“What happened?” He finally speaks up, frowning deeper in question. Meanwhile, you memorise his name, an intruding thought that you think the name fitting in its beauty that matches him, despite not even knowing him.
Hecate seems to be in a playful mood tonight, her smile widening and baring the pearls of her teeth that look like they were carved from moonlight, vermillion eyes teasing. “All in good time, nephew. You’ll remember when you need to.”
“Nephew?” You breathe out, eyes set on the man— no, not a man— “You’re a God?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Demi.”
You’re left gaping between the two. “Like that makes a bloody difference.” You say, voice turning near shrill. “No wonder you survived out there. I should have known.” You rant, until Hecate lays a calming hand over your forearm.
“Be calm, friend. I must go now, but I have a favour to ask of you.”
“Anything.”
“Can you take care of my dear nephew for a while? I trust he’ll be safe with you until his memories return.”
“Of course.”
When Hongjoong goes to protest, Hecate merely raises a brow to have him submit to her wishes. “Yes aunty.” He mumbles.
“Splendid!” She claps her tattooed hands together, moving to take hold of yours, giving you a soft smile. “Thank you for this, friend.”
“Anything for you.”
With that she disappears into the night, like she was never there.
The silence stretches, the both of you in your own thoughts until Hongjoong eventually speaks again.
“Where are you headed anyway?”
You move to start walking to the helm and he follows you. When you reach the table before the steering wheel, you stab your dagger into the map. “Heard people disappear ‘round these isles.”
“So you’re going there?” He asks incredulously.
You laugh, leaning toward him, “Doesn’t it sound like an adventure?”
Hongjoong wonders if he’ll actually be safe with you. Guess he’s going to have to find out.
—
Morning tastes like salt cliffs shedding into his mouth, the very smell permeating his skin until all he knows is the grains rubbing his insides dry, like flayed fish left to marinate in the white rock, shrivelling and rough.
Gulls call out ahead through the window of the brig making Hongjoong squint toward the downpour of sunlight, golden and gentle unlike the rise and fall of the keel slapping back down onto the waves. It turns his stomach and in turn his head, a dizzy spell washing over him making him fall back with a groan. The incident has made his body less inclined to be at sea, a violent memory that though he cannot physically recall, lives deep in his sinews and has him recoiling from the watery prison.
As if sensing that he has awoken, the doors of the brig creak open, dragging away the shadows and allowing the light to fully inhabit the space. Down you come, a jug in one hand, liquid steaming its fragrance amongst the wood and twine and right up to Hongjoong’s nose, with a mortar in the other.
“Drink up, Demi-God. Lest you throw up on my decks again.”
Though humour tinges your voice, Hongjoong flushed with embarrassment, every heave and wretch rippling through his body as if he were reliving the exact moment he painted the floors with his ailment. A small smile pulls at your lips when he timidly takes the jug, a soft thank you drifting with the steam, You stand there waiting as he pours a cup and lets the jug settle atop the barrel being used as a makeshift table and watch as he draws the cup of dark liquid to his lips, blowing against the heat before taking a sip.
Lavender, pressed vanilla, crushed and fermented grape amongst other herbs swim warmly down his throat to his gut, soothing the sickness like a mothers lullabye. There’s a sweetness like nectar that sticks to his lips and tongue and a herbal bitterness amongst it. You supply an answer before he even asks. “A little remedy Hecate taught me— wine has many benefits. I used to get the most awful sickness at sea. You bring back memories.” Hongjoong wants to ask more— Hecate taught you? How did you even come to be friends with a Titan God? — but there’s no chance for his voice to rise as he savours the warm wine and you command instead. “Come. Oddeye is making breakfast. If you’re not fast enough you’ll only have a mere crumb.”
You warned him of that yesterday and the day before too. That every individual has quick hands and even quicker mouths, so he must learn to be quicker or starve.
But he doesn’t comment how just yesterday he heard you whisper to Oddeye to make sure the Demi-God gets something to eat and instead follows you up to the decks, where funnily enough Oddeye is frying some saltfish.
He’s drained the water he was soaking it in out into the already salty sea, now leaving it to rest in a ceramic bowl waiting for him to cook.
“Ah, Demi-God, come, come. Learn.” Hongjoong’s brows shoot up in surprise, but he really has no time to even utter the questioning me on the tip of his tongue because with a roguish laugh you push him toward Oddeye, walking around them both to take seat upon a crate and watch them both as if they were your personal performers.
Oddeye tells Hongjoong the method of making saltfish, how he prides himself in keeping only the best fish and taking the time to cut and dry and salt it in one of the claypots he gained during a raid. Hongjoong listens avidly, eyes like a baby bird watching a worm dangle from its mother's beak and you feel a foreign softness that you don’t quite register fill you as Oddeye starts instructing Hongjoong to make some parathas.
“What do you mean you don’t know how?” He chatices and the stricken look on Hongjoong’s face has you snorting behind your hand, the poor boy fumbling to copy Oddeye as he orders him to do as he does.
You wonder if wherever Hongjoong was before you found him, if he lived like a prince with people to do things for him, or if like a newborn lamb, he forced his legs to straighten and followed along, observed and learnt and did things for himself.
Watching him with Oddeye, pressing into the dough, rolling it out over and over, you like to think that Hongjoong is not an Olympian prick who relies on his Godliness. That he be more human than anything. Though you’re not sure why you should care at all. Afterall, he is merely here under the wish of your friend and you’re sure that soon enough he will be gone from your sight.
The crew stuff their faces on fish, fried banana skins and parathas and while you eat quietly, watching them shove their elbows into the other while tearing at the flatbread, you fail to notice Hongjoong’s eyes expectantly on you.
He watches your secretive smile and your attention fall to your own food, eyes zeroing in on your calloused hands pulling apart the bread and wrapping it around the fish and curried banana and his own lips curve secretively, pleased, when above the ruckus he can hear your appreciative hum, can see the nod of your head in approval and your hands reach for more of the paratha.
He doesn’t question his pleasure in your approval, only glad to see you enjoy it as he turns his attention back to his own food. (That one of the deckhands was secretly trying to reach for.)
Hongjoong ends up helping Oddeye for the next two mornings, each starting with you greeting him with the herbal wine and the woodworm remedy, with you watching the both of them with Hecate’s moon glowing in the depths of your eyes, joyous of Hongjoong under Oddeye’s instructions— one day teaching him what to do with nearly spoiled veg and the next how to cut open green coconuts with a machete and what to do with its meat after.
Today though, you hadn’t woken him. The wine sat cold and the wormwood waited for him to paint beneath his nose, but you were the only thing missing. Stretching, Hongjoong finishes his morning drink, then allows the scent of the wormwood mix to gather under his nostrils before he starts to make his way above deck.
Nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening. The crew tend to their usual duties and Oddeye stands at his spot where he usually prepares food, his knife cutting into vegetables that he throws into a pot of boiling water. He tends to the fire beneath now and again, ensuring it is still burning and not escaping with its flamed limbs elsewhere, but he has yet to see you.
“Good morning.”
“Oh, lad, you’re up! I’ve done it all now, so don’t worry about helping me.”
Hongjoong nods, eyes still searching elsewhere. Licking his lips, he asks with a frown “where’s the Captain?”
“Below deck. They’re getting the lines ready.” Hongjoong raises an inquisitive brow, so Odd Eye supplies “we're hoping to get a good catch. These parts usually have the best fish you see.”
Today the skies are clear, a painting of watered blue that is near translucent above, void of clouds and only full of blinding light. This far out there are no birds scouring and cawing, only that constant rhythm of water knocking against the ship.
While taking his time admiring the vastness of the ocean, a load of the crew pile up from below and from behind you follow, holding an end of a net with the other crewmen. The five of you carry it to the very end of the ship and haul it into the water, keeping a secure hold of it. There’s mutters and you instruct a young boy to go get the ship moving, but gently, in hopes of scooping a school up.
Oddeye was telling Hongjoong about today's breakfast and then something about how well the fish will go with it, but he subconsciously tuned him out when his eyes locked onto your figure. Another billowing shirt that probably used to be white and frayed slacks that fell too low over your sandaled feet.
He hopes you don’t trip.
It’s that small cause for concern that compels Hongjoong to walk over, leaving Oddeye to talk to thin air and once he’s close, he wordlessly crouches down and starts to fold the hem up until the material is safely at your ankles. You look down in surprise only to see the crown of his head and his hands switching from one of your legs to the other. As if he knows your eyes are already on him, he looks up to directly meet your gaze. “Don’t want you falling over now, do we?”
“I suppose not…” Staring a moment longer, you dismiss the random gesture entirely. “How’s the seasickness?”
He stands to his full height and graces you with that Apollo-worthy smile of his. “Your remedy seems to be helping.”
You nod, retraining your attention on the net to help start tying it off to the ship's side. “That is good news. Hopefully you will not need it for long.”
“I hope so too. I don’t recall ever having this sickness before. If we’re to be at sea for so long, maybe I will become normal again.”
Your face falls slightly when you look at him again, swiping your palms together to clear some dirt.
“Oh. I meant until we get you back on land. I doubt you will be us for so long.”
A frown forms (as well as an odd sensation of disappointment). “Have you word from Hecate?”
“Well, no.”
“Am I that bad of company that you wish to be rid of me then?”
A cheeky smile forms on your face and Hongjoong feels his mind scrambling to memorise that look with all the light hitting your face, the lines created by your grinning lips. “And what if you are?”
Hongjoong feels cheeky himself. “It will displease you to know that I will have to stay by your side until you enjoy my company.”
That pulls a hearty laugh from you, a sound that skips prettily along the water into the distance, one that breezes its way into the chambers of Hongjoong’s heart and contains itself there. It blocks his airways momentarily. In fact it ceases his nerve-endings, not properly allowing him to function so he’s left standing there in a daze with a silly smile on his face.
He doesn’t even realise it’s there until Oddeye approaches from behind and slaps a hand down on Hongjoong’s shoulder, breaking his reverie. “I think he’ll be a good little apprentice, Captain. He’s quite useful, you know. Be a shame to see him go so soon.”
Your eyes narrow, part in confusion, part in suspicion, because isn’t this the same man who warned you to be careful around the newcomer. “Well you best get as much use out of him as you can while he’s still here, Oddeye.”
“As should you, Captain.” He lowly mutters, thinking you don’t hear him. Yet when your steely eyes glare at him, he has some sense to straighten up and walk away, muttering something about finishing cooking as he does so.
Your eyes are still trailing after him in annoyance when a snicker steals your attention, bringing your sharp gaze to cut into Hongjoong instead. But unlike Oddeye, he has no sense to stop and only laughs harder once he meets your gaze.
“Something funny?”
You forget that Hongjoong isn’t actually a member of your crew, that he isn’t someone who knows you, so he takes your serious tone in jest, baring his marble-like teeth to you and the sun, making him appear that much more dazzling.
Or maybe it’s just that unbothered attitude all the Gods have and he does know and simply does not care.
“I mean, if you need to use me, that’s perfectly fine.”
Yeah, he just doesn’t care.
The narrow of your eyes makes him break out into pure, unadulterated laughter, one that shakes him so hard his back bows and his face creases up into the cutes—
“Fine. Let’s go demigod.”
Hongjoong is left staring after your retreating body in confusion. You hadn’t even looked at him as you started walking away and it’s only when you’re at the mouth of the entrance to below deck that his brain kickstarts his body into action, feet tripping up on themselves when he starts to rush after you.
He can’t see, but you’re containing your smirk hearing his clumsy steps as you start to walk down the stairs.
It’s much noisier down here, with crewmen filing about from floor to floor, one end to the other, though as you get to a lower floor, the noises decrease and Hongjoong suspects why as his noise grimaces at the pungent smell of fish.
The lone lit lamp aids you in lighting up the others and soon bears both of your eyes to the barrels piled with fish. There’s only three barrels, but the depths of it is telling of how rich the catch was (if the smell wasn’t a clue) and three others, one with water and the other two empty.
“Here.” Hongjoong’s eyes fall to your outstretched hand to find you offering him a small blade. His bottom lip juts out as he airs the confusion he surely feels and this time you laugh at him. “You said to use you right? You can help me clean and gut the fish.” As his fingers hesitantly wrap around the hilt you smirk, voice challenging when you say “or is that too much for the pretty demigod?”
Hongjoong practically snatches it away from you, very clearly the fish caught in a net here when you smile, pleased to have baited the silly man.
“Done this before?” You’re moving easily, picking a fish from a barrel and using your own knife to start gutting it. Hongjoong shakes his head no. “The underside. Run the knife like so. Rinse the fish in this barrel. Make sure you’ve cleaned the insides out. Keep the tails and heads, Oddeye uses them.”
“That’s it?”
“Easy as that, Demigod.”
Hongjoong moves toward a barrel and by the time he manages to pluck one, you’ve gutted another three, moving with ease and sureness. “You must do this often.”
You scoff a laugh. “I’ve been at sea for as long as I can remember. You pick up a thing or two. Especially when it comes to a meal.”
Hongjoong merely nods, turning his attention to the fish. His browns squint together as he brings up the tip of the blade, however he doesn’t anticipate how tough the skin is, grunting as he pushes into it. “Oh, Gods.” He grunts when the blade cuts through to the other side.
He loses focus when he catches your mocking laughter, cheeks burning in embarrassment when you move closer and take the fish from his hands and discard it in the barrel of guts. Picking up another you place it in Hongjoong’s hand and then to his surprise you take hold of his hand weidling the blade and softly start to instruct with amusement in your eyes.
“Look. You start softly, following the skin. Go with it, not against it. Cut, cut, cut, softly. See! You’re in. Then it’s easy.”
Hongjoong finds that he’s holding his breath and not because of the smell, but because the crown of your head is right by face as it bows to focus on the fish. The light from the lamps wash warmly on you and sink into your eyes like it’s naturally a part of them. He can see the shape of your features, moulded to fit perfectly on your skin like clay under a sculpture's hand, the details of each lash lining your downcast eyes, tongue swiping your dry lips, and it makes his heart forget its own purpose of beating for a moment.
Until you look up and Hongjoong’s gaze sharply turns to your hands. He nods, as if he hadn’t just tuned out your voice halfway through your explanation and mutters “thanks, I think I got it.”
“Good! Because I don’t want us to be here all day.”
The experience shows in your pace, making it hard for Hongjoong to quietly observe the way it is supposed to be done. It seems as soon as you’ve grabbed a fish from the barrel you’ve already gutted it and are onto the next.
But his eyes are quick, his brain absorbing your actions and soon he can just about match your pace. Though you don’t look at him, you do let out an impressed whistle. “Not bad, Demigod.” The minimal praise shouldn’t make him as elated as it does, but he feels himself consuming it almost greedily, like your praise is the ultimate reward.
“Try to keep up, Captain.” He tests, thinking perhaps he can reel you in, but you merely scoff, shaking your head.
“How on Hellas could I ever keep up with a Demigod, hm?” The sarcasm grates his ears, but he senses no malice, spotting the faint curve at the edge of your lips as you smirk.
“Shall I slow down for you then?”
“And why should you do that?”
“So we are at the same pace of course.”
“I don’t believe we will ever be at the same pace, Demigod.”
That comment piques Hongjoong’s interest. “What makes you say that?”
“Different worlds and all that— literally.”
“I am still half of this world— I am in your world right now.”
You hum thoughtfully. “That is very true. So you should be on your best behaviour right?” It’s said so casually, but there’s something in your words that makes Hongjoong realise why everyone so easily calls you Captain, an edge that transcends your appearance, masked behind that airiness of it and has him blinking after you.
Noticing his silence you finally spare him a glance. When you quirk a brow he responds with an airy chuckle, nodding his head to himself, though you take it as him affirming your words.
The quiet remains after. There is only the sound of blade through flesh, of flesh hitting flesh as it’s dropping into the barrel and after a while Hongjoong pauses when sores bubble on his palm where he’s been gripping the knife. It’s for mere seconds he ceases to continue with the task, but you notice immediately, glancing to see Hongjoong press his thumb into his palms.
“Go see Hwa.”
“Hm?” You think that the way this Demigod blinks is somewhat cute, in the same way a child might be cute, clearly unaware you had even been paying attention to him.
“I said, go see Hwa. He can give you something for your hands.”
The blink returns to his open palm. “Oh. Oh. that’s okay, I can just go once we—”
“I wasn’t asking, Demigod. I know how painful those can get. It’s better you see Hwa now than risking your skin cutting open and dying of infection, don’t you think?”
He presses his lips together, unable to argue against that. Giving a simple nod he extends his hand to you offering the blade you lent him, but your eyes don’t even look. “Keep it. I have plenty more.”
Hongjoong smiles as if you bestowed upon him a chestful of treasure. And with that smile, he takes his leave, leaving you alone in the company of dead fish.
—
It truly must be a pure talent for the different ways that Oddeye can find to cook the fish. It has been nearly a week straight of fish and Hongjoong can only count his lucky stars that there are so many crew members to feed, because he’s certain that the menu would be fish for at least the month otherwise.
As he has been doing the past few days, Hongjoong is helping Oddeye to prepare dinner. Usually breakfast is so filling, they work through the day and then eat before the sun sets.
It’s odd how he hasn’t been here very long, but he almost feels at home.
Hours trickle away with the song of the sea in his ears, eyes scouring the constant motion of the crew, cleaning, hauling, bustling all over the ship, but when dinner time comes there’s a different kind of liveliness, relief and warmth and cheer when a meal is shared. It’s one of Hongjoong’s favourite things about being here.
“When you’re done, just put it in the pot.” Oddeye instructs, going between his own tasks.
Hongjoong is busy grinding up some herbs for Oddeye; cloves and dried mint, salt and dried chillies, garlic and peppercorn and the like. He offers a hum in response, gritting his teeth as he presses the pestle harder into the mortar, grinding everything together the way Oddeye’s shown him and that’s when you appear unsuspectingly at his side.
“What’s this, Demigod?” He jumps, jostling and nearly losing his grip on the pestle. Blinking at you with wide eyes you chortle at his expression, then wave the small object in question before him.
“Oh. It’s a fish.”
That has you rolling your eyes. “I can see that. I mean what was it doing in my quarters?”
Hongjoong gently rests the pestle within the mortar and fully turns to you, smiling as he eyes his handiwork.
“Just a thank you. For the knife. And your protection of course.” There’s a cheeky glint in his eyes that matches the curls at the edges of his lips when he says that, making you scoff your own barely audible laugh. But then his gaze turns serious as he asks “do… do you not like it?”
The question throws you off guard, because you didn’t really expect him to care whether you did or not. “I…. think it is nice. Thank you.”
He beams then, a smile that scatters the surroundings like the beating rays of the sun over the sea and it momentarily blinds you.
“Then I shall make you more.” He promises, so glad he carved that little wooden fish for you.
You ponder on if you should ask more, eventually allowing your curiosity to voice itself.
“Where did you learn?”
He tells you of the great craftsman Daedalus and how he met him while Hongjoong was entertaining the king and queen with his music during a festival.
“Well, I am glad you met him then.”
A simple smile is what you leave Hongjoong behind with.
—
A lullaby in the form of waves sends Hongjoongs mind adrift into the depths of sleep. Before it is able to swallow him, he sees your face and recalls the last moments with you once more. Your voice spoke just over the whisper of the sea breeze, a calmness that bled warmth into him when all you merely said was for him to get some rest and that you’ll reach your destination tomorrow, with an apology that his lodgings are so shitty at the moment. Though he questioned if he would truly be safe as his aunt hoped, he couldn’t deny the soft dulcet of your tone coming together like a melody of the sweetest nectar harvested by Demeter herself and providing a feeling so sweet, honey thick as it filled every nook and cranny of his insides, that there was simply no room left for doubtful thoughts— only serenity.
As his eyes fall heavy, departing into darkness, he thinks that your Apollo-crafted smile will fall away into the deepest remnants of his mind, however like a moth chasing the brightest light, you flutter into his subconscious and imprint that smile on the grounds of his dreamscape.
His bare feet digs into silk-soft sand, the grains sliding between his toes as he stands before a shore of azure that splits under the blinding white of the sun. He doesn’t know how he came to be here, but he doesn’t question it with his eyes drawn to such beauty, enamoured in a way that feels as if the essence of his soul is being drawn out to swallow it all in.
A light soon irritates his eyes, a reflection bouncing the ray right onto his face; he draws a hand up to shield himself, squinting towards the source and spotting a bottle washed up on the beach. Curiosity gets the best of him when he approaches the object. It’s heavy in his hand, though the glass is empty save for a roll of paper trapped inside. There’s a pop when he pulls the cork from the lid that he drops to the sand, tipping the glass till the paper is at the mouth of the bottle, using his fingers to pull it out the rest of the way.
The edges are worn, the paper itself crinkled and fragile as if it will fall apart from the mere kiss of the wind. He unravels it with care between his dainty fingers, eyeing the scrawl of black ink.
“It’s like a lie
A grand sight that’s like a lie”
He’s unsure what compels him to, but as soon as he’s read the words his eyes glance up to the horizon and a gasp breaks through his suddenly dry and cracked lips— the horizon becomes almost distorted, the sun seeming to dip into the sea before returning to normal.
It makes him stumble backwards and a cry leaves his mouth when he trips.
Another bottle.
The frown on his face deepens as he pulls it from the sand.
“I close my eyes then open them several times.
I’m like a Pundit, you know this feeling?”
As if the words have him under hypnosis, he blinks repeatedly, closing his eyes tight and opening them to the view before him.
He thinks he sees a small boat in the distance, its silhouette visible against the sun. The paradise seems to still be there, the water calm and the sun glistening.
Until it's not.
The sun dips into the sea and the air becomes hostile as it chills. It’s eerily quiet for a moment until a boom erupts and with it the ocean jumps like a bolt triggering a pulse, bringing with it a wave that seems to touch the sky. Fear seems to take the form of ice, freezing him entirely as he becomes shadowed in its great destruction, until something inside kickstarts his instincts to run.
His limbs tangle through hanging leaves and ropes of vine, the fuzz of webs catching his face and sticking to his hair, muscles burning as he pushes himself. His foot catches on a log and he tumbles forward, the bottles he didn’t realise he was still holding slipping from his hands and rolling away. He groans, looking back anxiously, only to see no sign of the wave incoming.
“What is that, what is that?” Hongjoong’s head shoots to the side of him and screams, scrambling away at the sight of a frog talking to him. He flips over onto his knees, about to push himself up when a turtle appears saying the same thing. Around its neck is a bottle hanging by a string. Shakily, he pulls it over the turtle's head.
“A frog and turtle, speaking to me,
Red sunflowers
What is that?”
Blooms appear out of nowhere— red sunflowers. They line in a certain way going deeper into the jungle he’s become entangled in and again, there’s a feeling like hypnosis when he starts to follow the path, the frog and turtles echoing ‘what is that’ fading behind him.
He follows until he arrives at a clearing that steals his breath. The green pastures are enclosed by rockslates where a single waterfill spills into a pool of glowing white— an image that suits Olympus more than it does Earth. It calls to him, drawing him in, that question of what is that becoming his own and soon he is thigh deep in the opal waters, skin radiating from its brightness.
But, like the beach he was on, the image before him distorts, flashes of snakes appearing before his eyes before returning to the normal image of the water. He feels like the air is being squeezed from him, but there’s no struggle as he sinks into the pools, ready to succumb to whatever it is offering.
The light starts to engulf him, Hongjoongs eyes on the sky that bleeds an array of pinks and purples making him feel so content—
In a sudden moment the colours swirl and muddy together and again, they distort, a sea of inky black above him. The light that was surrounding him disappears, the feeling of water clinging to his body now something heavier, more malicious, coiling tighter and tighter as if to crush his body and then it’s gone.
His body is dragged and he gasps as if it's the very first breath he’s taken. The last thing he sees is your face over him, shaking his shoulders and mutely calling out his name.
His saviour.
The sun has his eyes squinting against its strength when he emerges from his room. Sleep evaporated the moment he awoke from the dream, one that you had unexpectedly infiltrated. It’s instinct to search for you, soon finding you standing at the hull of the ship looking out at the sea.
Under the sun, your features bathe in its warmth, the rough edges of your appearance slinking away under the rays and making Hongjoong think you look more like the nymph's he sees dwelling upon the springs on Olympus. An overly large hat sits atop your head, probably a symbol of your Captaincy and you don similar clothes to the night he first met you. The wind billows out the loose off-white sleeves of your blouse even more and as he comes closer he can see that your eyes are drawn closed against the feeling.
Pushing the odd dream from his mind, he asks “what’s the plan then?” He knew you were due to go to those Isles for Gods knows what reason, but you told him the night before that you planned to make a stop somewhere first.
Your head tilts toward him, offering that smile that has etched itself in his memory long ago. Turning, you point at your pigs. “Gonna send them off first.” He frowns in confusion, but doesn’t get a chance to ask what you mean when you move to take a seat at the makeshift table.
“Tell me, Hongjoong. What did you inherit from the Gods?”
He takes a seat across from you, smiling as he thinks of his mother, one whom he sees in rarity, but cherishes nonetheless. “Music.” Your eyes become excited then, taking on the strength of the sun with their shine. “My mother, Euterpe, is a muse.” He ends up telling you stories of the muses— his mother, aunts and some of his cousins — how he was allowed to stay on Olympus in infancy and would gather in the great halls to perform for the Great Gods. How music soon became as natural as breathing for him.
You’re invested in each of his stories, his voice so captivating you’re sure that if he were to use it for what runs in his veins you would be spellbound to him.
A frown draws on your face though. Curiosity battling your mesmerisation. “Do you remember anything yet?”
That smile falls from his face and you think it a pity that he not bear what is probably the highest gift of the Gods and instead frowns himself. He’s about to tell you that he still can’t remember the events that led to him adrift at sea when he’s distracted by the creature striding over the table— a cat. He watches you pull a small greasy looking sack from your side, the bottom darkening as if it carried oil and the smell is pungent when you open it and pull out shreds of fish.
He resists gagging, instead watching you feed the cat with a barely concealed grimace. “I caught it fresh, princess.” You tell the cat, your features softening with affection as you coo at the feline. “Fit for royalty, don’t you think?” Princess meows as if responding in agreement, licking at your palm before nuzzling it’s head against it.
Hongjoong analyses you, noticing the scars on your body, one starting on your hand leading up over your forearm when you’ve pushed your sleeves up, another on your forehead, prompting him to ask you about them. You smile telling him how they relate to each of your adventures. He frowns. “So you get hurt quite often.” He states.
You only shrug. “Hazards of the job.” Your attention returns to petting your cat and soon you start to sing softly to it, causing a foreign sensation to shift in his chest.
“You sing.”
You look up sheepishly, an expression he didn’t think he’d see from someone like you. “A little.”
He smiles. “Like me.”
You scoff a laugh. “Don’t all Gods? Especially ones whose mother is a muse.”
“Not like me.” He says confidently.
“Well, you’re going to have to prove it.” Your challenge ignites flames in his eyes and in turn, it makes you feel alive, in a way you haven’t experienced before— especially not from mere eye contact. Clearing your throat, you look away first— another first for you. “When you’re more rested, ey? Can’t have you using the excuse that you’re still recovering for giving me a bad performance.”
Laughter erupts from him, the sound like music itself, enrapturing every inch of you inside out and you’re wondering if Oddeyes warning wasn’t totally off, just for a reason you never expected. “It’s a deal.”
Silence falls between the two of you, the crew working in the background, the water sloshing against the sides of the ship. Your curiosity seems to be contagious, because a thought pops into Hongjoong’s head. “Say...Where did you get the map to those Isles? I heard they were all burned up and the only one left was—”
“In the great library.” You smile, standing up. “Come, follow me.”
You lead Hongjoong to your quarters, distracting him from your busy hands as he looks around. The space is relatively tidy and very basic (not as basic as where he is staying, though), with a bed laid with purple sheets and a desk piled with scrolls upon scrolls and stacks of plain papyrus before it all. You head to the bookshelf while Hongjoong approaches your desk and picks up a scroll with excited eyes. “This is rare.”
Turning, you nod seeing the scroll in his hands. The Book of Monsters.
“Can I read it?” He asks, making you forget your original purpose of bringing him down here.
You tilt your head, taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “Only if you read it to me.”
Hongjoong smiles, moving to sit at the stool by your desk. He unwinds the thick scroll, fingers carefully turning the fragile pages till his eyes fall to the first page in old Greek and starts to read.
You’re enraptured by his voice— the way he story tells, each soft note reaching you.
In the midst of your hypnosis, ears keening to his voice, Meli appears. She looks from Hongjoong to you, but makes no comment on the matter. “We’re nearing the marina.”
You nod, standing, then offer Hongjoong a smile. “We’ll have to continue this later.”
Meli doesn’t comment on that either.
Closing the book, Hongjoong places it back on top of the pile he took it from then looks at you curiously, asking what’s going on. You only give him a mysterious smile. “Exchanging some pigs, remember?”
Hongjoong notes the change in air when you both come back onto the deck. It’s almost musty, a strange cloud of darkness falling over the surroundings, despite the sky being clear. The pier looks worn and decayed, creaking when Oddeye jumps onto the planks and twists rope around the cleat. As the crew ready to set forth from the ship, you regard them all.
“Right lads, one eye on your front and one on your back.”
There’s a chorus of ay’s and then the crew start to pile from the ship. When Hongjoong goes to move, you press a hand to his chest. “I think it best you stay here, Demi God.” He frowns at you, the brown of his eyes becoming misty, almost dusty like the old shorefront.
“And why do you think that’s best?” He tests, attempting to move forward again, only to feel the tips of your fingers dig harder against his chest.
“Because this is not the place for pretty boys or found-at-sea-amnesiacs, of which you are both.”
“You think I’m pretty?”
Your giggle distracts him from his original point, eyes near shining at him with your smile. “I’ve yet to meet a God who is not,”
“I should introduce you to several of my cousins then.” He mumbles, the comment bringing laughter from you yet again and it’s strange how his heart seems to be memorising that melody and it’s small changes each time you do laugh— it’s a sound that for some reason he is subconsciously holding on to. When he does recall the reason for your disagreement (only because he suddenly became conscious of your hand pressing against his chest) does the frown return and to your amusement a pout rises on his face making you chuckle. “Let me comeeeeee.” He whines and you really have to wonder if this isn’t a child stuck in a man's body as the laughter rises from you like lapping waves.
Still. There’s something compelling about this particular man, tugging your mind like the needle of a compass drawing north, that eventually has you relenting.
Your hand on his chest moves to instead draw the material of his shirt into your hands and you drag him so close your noses bump. His eyes are wide and shaky and this close it appears as if you can see the way the sun burns against the cosmos. You ignore the awe filling you, how there is almost a need to sigh out how pretty his eyes are, to instead look between them with a firm look on your face. “Fine. But you stick with me. You don’t wander off. You don’t talk to anyone— hell you don’t make eye contact with anyone. Understood?”
Hongjoong feels paralysed; the air seems to freeze in his lungs and his tongue is numb and mute, unable to conjure the words that even his mind scrambles for. It’s only a simple yes, but your proximity, the way your eyes encapture all he’s witnessed you to be so far— strong, headfast, beautiful— leave him dumbfounded and the way every inch of you is so close, your lips a mere breath away, is playing havoc on his insides.
“Well?” You quirk a brow and Hongjoong finally manages to swallow the sandpaper feeling that scratches at his throat, blinking his pretty lashes rapidly when he gives a small nod of his head slowly.
“Yes, Captain.”
You take his breath with you when you turn away. A yelp breaks from his mouth, hand flying out to catch the hilt of the sword you just threw toward him.
“Good reflexes.” You note, almost sounding impressed if it wasn’t for the teasing smile on your face. “You might survive, yet.”
Hongjoong follows you off deck, staring warily at the wooden planks that feel as if they would fall apart at any moment. When he realises you’ve already taken to the head of the crew, he hastily moves to get beside you, your instruction to stick with you an echo in his mind.
“So, I take it, it isn’t a friend we’re going to see.”
Your lips quirk into a smirk. “He’s something like...a frenemy.” You say, clicking your fingers.
There’s a snort on the other side of you— the one who patched Hongjoong up, Seonghwa. He moves his head to stare at Hongjoong. “That ship of ours…. It was kind of his.” Hongjoong’s eyes widen and you look the opposite of nervous when you gleefully chuckle.
“I got it fair and square.” You say, sticking your chin out.
“And now he holds a grudge.”
“Hey, not my fault he can’t hold his rum as well as he claims,” You exclaim making Seonghwa chuckle, Hongjoong wondering just how much of a grudge this guy holds.
The crew pass under a stoney bridge and come into a marketplace. The smell of fish; shrimp frying, fresh catch bobbing in barrels of water waft into Hongjoong’s nose, turmeric and cloves and other spices tangling into a fragrant scent. There’s men and women at the stalls, each looking as rough as the last. You guide them through the market's path, coming to an alley of sorts and come out onto a small square of brick flooring, surrounded by four buildings.
“Oi.” Hongjoong follows your gaze to the owner of the voice. A man with dark hair fringing cattish eyes watches you, nodding his head toward the building behind him. Wordlessly you follow him in, but as you all approach the doors he holds a hand out. “Just you.”
You laugh. “Not even a hello and then this, San? You lot that scared of us?”
The man, San, scowls, narrowing his thin eyes, making him look even more menacing. “Don’t get smart— get your ass inside.”
Within seconds your blade is at his throat, too quick for the man to register and with your movement in sync, your crew has their swords raised threateningly toward him. You tip his head further back with your blade and step closer to him.
“I don’t know nor do I care how you speak to anyone else, but you show some fucking respect with me.” His gulp is visible, the move pressing the blade further against his skin and Hongjoong thinks the man is smart to look fearful.
“Understood.”
When you withdraw your sword, you move him aside, throwing a wait here to the rest of the crew, Hongjoong frowns, eyes flitting over to Seonghwa’s. “Should we be letting her go in alone?”
Seonghwa’s eyes move toward Meli who looks as aggravated as Hongjoong’s starting to feel. “Not really. But Captain's orders.”
The brick corridor is dark and dusty, filled with the smell of burning incense. The odd silence is what has your fingers curling tighter around your sword's hilt, booted feet moving along the worn concrete carefully.
Just as you reach the end of the hallway, a waft of air hits your face as something unmistakably cuts through the darkness and reflectively your sword comes up, the inevitable clash of metal echoing around you.
Everything happens so fast— your hand grips the jaw of the stranger and shoves them back till their head collides with the wall and bounces off roughly, your feet moving with the sound of their groans fading behind you. Moving into a room, the light shines through a broken roof bearing the gritty floor and old wooden crates piled around, but there’s no time to take in the emptiness of the room when two men appear this time. In an instance your leg kicks out and jams your boot into the stomach of one ruffian, your sword swinging down to clash into the others— you both grunt, both hands around your swords hilt as you try to push back, ultimately releasing as you step back panting heavily. He growls, surging forward again with a cry, but he’s sloppy, down with a simple headbutt, the resulting crunch not even making you wince as you watch him howl in pain on the floor.
When you go to move, footsteps crowd around you— your eyes scour the entrances now filled with more ruffians, smirks of malice painted on their faces. You scoff, giving your own smirk.
“C’mon then.”
Outside, Hongjoong is becoming restless. “Isn’t she taking too long? Don’t you think we should go in?” Teeth gnawing at his bottom lip has made the flesh sore, so now he’s resorted to biting his nails.
Seonghwa gives him a disapproving look, lowering his hand from his mouth, lips drawing closer to Hongjoong’s ear. “There’s a reason she’s our Captain. Just trust her,”
Hongjoong frowns. If there’s one thing that he has been berating himself for in the very short time he’s come to know you, it’s that he does somewhat trust you. And he hasn’t decided if that's a good thing yet or not.
San leans against the door, picking his nails with the tip of a dagger and it makes Hongjoong grimace. He turns to say something to Meli only to notice she’s gone and then he notices that Oddeye has gone too. Before Hongjoong can say anything, Seonghwa’s back in his ear. “Easy… San is sharper than he looks.” The mention of the man draws Hongjoong’s eyes back onto him; he’s still doing the same thing as before, meticulously cleaning the dirt beneath his nails, but that doesn’t mean he’s not listening out for their whispers, that he’s not prepared to become hostile (as if he was very welcoming from the start).
Inside, every inch of your body is on alert. Your chest heaves with apprehension, eyes focused to the point they look crazed. Men circle around you and it’s as if their grimy hands are pressing against your skin already with how your back has locked up with tension.
At last, their thunderous cries spill into one chaos of echoes bouncing off the stoney walls, feet stampeding crowding over the sound, swords finally clashing. Your sword comes up and rebounds the three men coming at you, teeth gritting as you exert yourself, another sword being pulled from its holster swinging around you to defend your back. Crouching high and low, manoeuvring left and right, fists and metal, you fight off each man until that particular one shows his face.
He comes in all haughty, simply whistling to get the remainder of his men to stand down. The smirk on his face irritates you and you have half a mind to actually gut someone today— you don’t fail to notice how each of them were careful to not fatally injure you, but that doesn’t ease your annoyance any less.
The heavy leather boots he wears echoes with each step, his overly large hat tilted in a way that only bares his nose down, casting him in villainous shadow. At long last he looks up.
“I’ll show you how it's done.” Though he’s regarding his men, his eyes remain locked to yours.
You scoff, his men scuttling back like cockroaches, leaving the both of you encircled. “Still being a sore loser?” The boredom seeps into each word, a single brow lazily raised at him.
He merely shrugs, eyes widening manically, lips stretching into a menacing smile. “Maybe I just want to see you bleed.”
With that his arm comes down heavy with his sword, a move you easily block, grunting as your feet bear the weight you need to push back against him. He jumps back when you swing your other sword at his belly, a cackle of joy disturbing the air.
“Oh ho ho, very good.”
You grit your teeth, growling out “fuck you,” Ducking, you swing your leg out knocking him from under his feet. With the wind knocked from him, he groans, back smacking the concrete; the shadow of your sword falling across him like a slap, soon awakens his senses and sends him rolling away from the wrath of your metal. Your feet make fast to follow him, swinging down again and missing by mere inches. Rolling back to his feet, he surges forward, clangs and clashes, you evade one another with skillful swordship, cutting the air but not each other.
Until.
“Ah, fucker.” One of your swords falls away from your hand, the shallow wound prickling with your blood that slithers down your fingers, pitter pattering to the floor in steady drops.
“Ha! Finally I—” Making a run toward him, the momentum allows your leg to wrap around his neck and you swing, digging your knee into his back until he falls to his knees, your leg sliding from around him as you yank him back by his hair and press your sword to his throat.
He starts laughing nervously.
“OH! My dear friend, why didn’t you say that was you?” When you growl his laughter dies. “Alright, alright. May I remind you that I have you surrounded right now?”
“Do you now?” The dryness of your tone has him on alert and before he can so much as blink
the walls around you all burst forth harshly, bringing forth dust as it crumbles around you.
Meli and Oddeye stand back, the spears used for combustion charred within the stone scattered atop some of the men. And coming through with a disgruntled San, arms secure behind his back, are the rest of your crew, swords drawn.
“Now, that was a little over the top don’t you think?” He shrills, throwing his hands out.
“Getting your whole crew on my arse wasn’t?”
“Fine.” He grumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Consider us even. Now what can I do for you?”
“Like you don’t know.”
“I might have heard rumours.” He teases, smirking in that way that makes you want to throw your fist at his face.
“You owe me.”
“Always straight to business with you.”
“You could always get straight on my sword, Woo.”
He whines like a petulant child, stomping his feet and barking at his men to clear up the mess. “Follow me.” He says begrudgingly.
“I’ll be back.” You sing-song, following Wooyoung down a corridor.
You come into his shabby excuse for an office. Its resemblance is closer to a raided building. Wooyoung grabs for a bottle of dark liquor, wipes across his mouth with his sleeve, then hands it to you as he walks across the room.
There’s a cage covered with a simple cloth and your eyes marvel at the sight when he reveals what it holds.
Smiling, you crouch down and eye the little creature, cooing when they make tiny squeaks. Too small to produce any real sound let alone fire.
“So you’re set on making the journey, then?”
“Of course. Why? Wanna come?”
He laughs. “When I have a death wish friend, I shall join you.”
“What if we make it?”
“What if you don’t?” He counters, pushing his hair back with a huff. “You piss me off, but that doesn’t mean I—” Wordlessly, he grabs the bottle from your hands and takes another hefty swig.
“Aw, is that care I hear in your voice, Woo?”
He looks at you then. No pretences. No tease, no smart-remarks, or banter. “Yes. It is care for my friend. I worry.”
Not expecting this soft show from him, you can only laugh. Standing from your crouching position, it’s your turn to grab the bottle and down the liquor.
He smiles. “But you’ve made up your mind.”
“But I’ve made up my mind.” You affirm, nodding.
He sighs, then moves to grab a small empty cage. Unhooking the tops of the large one and carefully pulling forth one creature and placing it within its new (shitty excuse) for a home. “Well then I wish you luck.”
“Thank you, friend. See you on the other side.”
As you go to walk away, Wooyoung gives you one last piece of advice. “It would be good to consult them about your travels. Perhaps they know something.”
—
You were quiet the whole way back to the ship. Wooyoung's words run in your mind over and over and as much as you hate to admit it, it might be a good idea.
Placing the covered cage on the deck, Hongjoong’s the first to ask what it is. And upon unveiling the important thing you required for your journey, you smile.
“It’s an aura dragon. Perfect age to not be a menace to us, but brilliant at sensing danger. Their scales change to signify how safe somewhere is. I’m planning to circle the island with it before we enter. We’re lucky to get a hold of one— they’re extremely rare.”
“Not to mention expensive.” Meli sighs.
“A few pigs isn’t bad.” You laugh.
“But soon we will be back to having fish for weeks.”
You only roll your eyes at her, recovering the cage and pushing it in her direction.
“See to it that our new crew member is made comfortable, please.”
“Ay, ay, Captain.” She says sarcastically, taking the cage and disappearing below deck.
You turn to head to the helm, wincing as you limp, but pay it no mind. Hongjoong, however, notices.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Hongjoong scoffs, rolling his eyes and follows after you. “You’re clearly limping.”
“And?”
His brow quirks then screws together in a frustrated frown. “What do you mean and? Let me see.”
“Unnecessary. I’ll take care of it later.”
“Want me to get Hwa instead?”
Your back grows rigid as you come to a halt. Head turning slow, eyes dark and murderous when they land on him.
“Are you threatening me?”
His smile easily slips back. “Never. Just giving you a choice, Captain.”
“Should have left him in the damn sea.” You grumble.
“What was that?” He asks with an infuriating smirk.
“I said. Get on with it then.”
It’s a mere snag on your calf (to you— not a big deal) trailing round to just by your ankle, but Hongjoong analyses it with a face so serious as if he’s going to have to amputate your leg. He disappears for a moment and returns with a bowl of sea water and some rags (that are as clean as can be on the ship). Each of his movements are potent with the grace of the Gods— swirling the cloth in the water and then wringing it out, slim fingers draped with the cloth start to pad against the wound, eyes concentrated with his mouth rounded as he gently blows air over it.
You try not to watch him. Forcing your eyes to the horizon to keep up your annoyance, but you can’t help but to drift back to his face.
You’re used to Seonghwa doing this, or even yourself. Hwa would usually scold you or be very medical about it all, but scanning and feeling his gaze and hands be all careful feels very different to those times.
He finishes by wrapping a cloth around your leg (that you don’t think is really necessary, but it’s done now) and ties it off.
“You know one day you’re not just gonna get hurt— it’ll be worse.”
You shrug with a small smile. “We all gotta die someday. At least when I go out, it will be an adventure.”
—
Morbidness of death stifles the greying air. The waters are unsteady here, as welcoming as the damned it harbours. It’s an effort for the crew to keep their legs steady when watery arms disguised as waves heaves itself against the underside of the ship, rocking it roughly along the surface. Jagged rocks duck and appear in the water, scraping against the sides only aiding in the oceans onslaught.
And of course, it’s raining.
“Captain, we spotted the cove.”
“Prepare to make anchor!” Your command echoes amongst the crew, each scrambling for ropes and manning the capstan, yet your eyes are far away, focused on the whispering fog blanketing the desolate mountain you’re nearing.
It’s not nostalgia, but an almost foreign apprehension that overcomes you.
“Captain, are we to bring the full crew?” Oddeye questions.
A smile that doesn’t reach your eyes finds its way onto your face and Hongjoong’s watchful eyes notice.
“We are to bring none of the crew. I shall be making the trek alone.” You inform, slinging a satchel over your shoulder.
“But Captain the grae—” Meli starts to protest.
“They won’t harm me. I think. But I’d rather you lot not be leverage for my potential torture.”
“Filling me with confidence here.” She quips, exasperation clear in her voice.
Teeth bare into a grin at your first mate, your hand falling heavy on her shoulder. “Fret not, Meli. For once, this isn’t unknown territory. If I shant return, you know what to do.”
“Why wouldn’t you return?” That voice, usually enriched with the sweet spill of ripe berries, cracks through the air like an oil lit fireball spat at its enemy. Surprise fills you upon noticing the hardness of his usual honey-warm eyes, the brown splintered like cracked bark, the shards cutting into you the longer he stares. You hope your laugh will dispel the sudden edge in the air, but Hongjoong seems determined with his gaze set firmly on you. “Why wouldn’t you return.” He repeats gruffly.
“There’s always a chance of no return. Whatever the voyage.”
“So why go alone?”
Sighing, irritation makes your brow twitch. Squaring your shoulders, you regard him with your chin upturned, authority radiating from you. “Because I am the Captain and I decided that.”
He has you surprised yet again. Because rather than backing down as you’re so used to people doing with you, his soft demeanour completely dissipates, features now moulding into something far more calculating and rebellious— the curls that you thought looked cute at the edges of his lips stretch with his smirk, his eyes darkening like the sun eclipsing the world and he scoffs a humourless laugh. “Good thing you’re not my Captain then. I’m coming.” From him there is a fire burning away in the depths of his orbs, and from you, a cataclysmic tide waiting to engulf him whole.
“Brace yourselves!
The stare off breaks, no chance for words when the ship violently jerks and sends you falling— in an instant Hongjoong leans towards you, encircling his arms around you and turns, a grunt leaving his lips when his back hits the hull. The ship is carried by a rough wave, tilting the boat and forcing your body further against his. You can barely register the closeness when you’re scowling at him, a storm still simmering under your skin at his nerve to defy you.
“I’m the one who is protecting you.”
His eyes draw low as does his face until his nose nudges against yours and it’s still not the closeness of your bodies that you register, but rather its the intensity of his eyes that feel as if the ropes of your ship have gone rogue and taken a life of their own to knot around you and bring you into their captivity.
“All the more reason I should go with you, no?” Then, his eyes move from your line of sight, but only so his lips can whisper into your ear with a lovers intimacy, sending the storm under your skin to your suddenly fragile heart, to encase within, the pressure of the winding sea thrashing inside seeming to want to have it breaking apart like a dam. “Who will protect me, if not you?” Your head turns to stare at him, his own head tilted, breath spilling against your skin and before you can even find some sort of words, the ship levels out with a heavy smack against the water, sprays of the ocean raining onto the decks.
Cold air slicing against your cheeks is the wake up call you need to break out of— well, you don’t even know what to call that, only know that you need to put some space between you both right now. Your hand presses against his surprisingly firm chest, ready to push him away, but again he has surprise instilling in you when his fingers curl around your wrist, keeping your palm against him. “I’m coming.” He says with a finality in his voice, releasing your wrist as he walks away.
There’s a curious heat where his fingers once were, one that lingers and makes you feel as if he still had them wrapped around your wrist.
Your lips set into a firm line, sight set on his retreating figure, following until he disappears below deck. Turning swiftly, you take note of the look Meli gives you.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.” But the smirk on her face seems to be saying something.
You’re in no mood to pull it out of her (though you have an inkling of what it is she finds so amusing), grabbing the arm of a crewmember passing by. “Ready the tender.”
“Aye, aye Captain.”
“So, he’s going with you, I take it?” Retraining your eyes on Meli, you can’t even stop your eyes from rolling.
“I guess so.” You mumble.
“By Olympus, I never thought I’d see the day.”
A scowl. “What.”
“Just never thought I’d see the day you relent to someone”
“I’m not bloody rele—”
“Boats ready, Captain.”
You leave Meli with a disgruntled expression, the face of her stifling her laughter burning into your mind. The deck moans beneath your feet, the sea howling at you as you near the light boat. You stumble when even with the ship anchored, the rough waters manage to knock the ship sideways, and before you can fall, a hand is steady at your shoulders, keeping you upright.
Hongjoong.
A quick scan of his body shows the addition of a sword, the hilt recognizable with a lotus and a single eye engraved in it— a parting gift from a certain one-eyed pirate's daughter. With a frown your eyes move to seek out the man one could say you consider as your own father. Once they land on him, you spot the sheepish look on his face, which you meet with your own betrayed expression. You jump when warm breath suddenly falls against your ear.
“He said it’s good luck.” Hongjoong drawls lowly from behind you.
You barely turn your head to regard him when you hotly ask “do you even know how to use that thing?” A gasp falls from your lips at the touch of cold metal against your throat, Hongjoong’s satisfied smirk in your provisional igniting a fire within you.
“Isn’t this familiar? How's it feel to be on the other si—agh...” You look down at Hongjoong groaning on the floor, his eyes squinting up at you standing over him with the rain falling around your head and spilling drops onto his cheeks.
“I’m leaving.” Is all you gruffly say, urging Hongjoong, with a pained groan, to roll over and hastily follow you onto the small boat.
It rocks with his weight when he sits. The scowl on your face makes his near breathless laugh fall away with the wind, his eyes not leaving yours as you’re both lowered onto the water. There’s a look of concentration and strain when you start to row, the oars weighing heavier when the tides are rough and pushing against you. Grunts pass through your gritted teeth, the skin around your knuckles stretching taut under your grip of the oars, shoulders rolling and heaving with each push against the water.
Even as it rains, with the clouds a cluster of grey gloom, Hongjoong can’t help but to admire you. Drops trail down your face, some pooling at your lashes, others tracing the curve of your lips and falling off your chin. There’s a fierceness in your eyes, a determination as you row to shore, your strength not merely physical but an unseen part of your very being. He’s met many strong people, women included, in his life, especially as the son of a Muse, yet something strikes in his heart as if you are leaving a mark there, that makes him think you are different, yet he has no clue what that something is.
His heart jumps multiple times whenever the boat rocks as if it will overturn, the lapping waves climbing up the sides and filling the inside of the boat. Giving a pointed look to Hongjoong, he gets the message and grabs for the wooden bucket and starts to shovel out the water.
A rock hiding in the rough waters drives your boat upwards sending you crashing forward. You yelp as your knees scrape against the rough wooden surface. Hongjoong’s hands reach out to steady you, but you’re already hauling yourself back upwards with a strained groan, not stopping lest you lose momentum, getting closer and closer to the shore. He stares at you, eyes moving to your hands and with the downpour it’s hard to notice, especially as the water dilutes and washes away the colour, but he soon realises the harsh grip you have on the wood of the oars has grated roughly against your skin, made them sore and bloody with its burn. As soon as the boat slides onto the pebbly shore, Hongjoong stops you before you can stand with a gentle grip on your wrist. You watch curiously as he tears at his own shirt, pulling the fabric into strips and then takes hold of your hands. There's an unfamiliar stutter in your chest, one that makes your heart feel out of place in your own body when he turns your palms upwards and you finally take notice of your own wounds.
Even with the iciness of the rain piling onto your palms and pooling in its dip, there’s an unmistakable warmth swimming up your bloodstream to circulate all over when his fingers delicately balance your hand between you both. With care he wraps one strip of his torn shirt around your hand, placing it down on your lap gently before taking hold of your other. You watch him the entire time, strands of his hair sticking together, water flicking off the ends to trail down his face, one down the bridge of his nose pooling at his philtrum, another flicking off his long thick lashes and trailing under his eye like the mimic of a tear. His eyes are downcast, concentrated on carefully tying the material off into a messy bow and as he curls your fingers back into your palm slowly, as if returning your hand to you, your eyes meet.
How many times will he feel the need to mend my wounds? For the second time he has come to your aid — has touched you with foreign care as if you are fragile and as if you need his care.
Your surroundings seem to be swallowed by something, because suddenly the sound of the rain pelting against the howling sea is lost to your ears, the ghoulish whistle of the wind is nowhere to be found, nor is the callous whip it brings against your skin. The rain doesn’t seem to bear down on you anymore, there is nothing but him it seems.
And for him, there is nothing but you.
The sound returns in a loud chaotic collision that knocks you from whatever spell you seemed to be under. Clearing your throat, you stand to your full height and look down at him. “Let’s get going then.”
Passage to your destination isn’t so much a dangerous one (surprisingly), as it is a long one. There are multiple trails that can lead to everywhere except where you need, meaning it's easy to get lost (and then end up in a dangerous situation), meaning you need to know the exact trail to take.
Luckily (or not) you’re very familiar with these paths, a map of its maddening maze etched into the fibres of your brain for as long as you could remember.
Wordlessly you reach behind you and settle Hongjoong’s hands on your hips. “Don’t let go. It gets really foggy and if you get lost here, there’s a chance you’ll be wandering until the end of your days.” His throat starts to feel rough like cracking land under the sun as it becomes dry. He tries to swallow the sensation away, but the mere feel of your skin, even with the barrier of your shirt, has the very tips of his fingers, each ridge, overly sensitive— receptive— to you, and again, he doesn’t know what to make of that.
Not allowing the ever-rising question to plague him further, he distracts himself. “It sounds like you’ve been here before.” He muses, not really expecting much conversation to come from it until you chuckle.
“Something like that.” You muse, the mystery in your voice peaking his curiosity.
“It’s rare to have travelled to the Graeae’s layer once, let alone a second time.”
You hum amused. “This will definitely be more than a second time.” Your reply has his head shooting up, the move tipping his balance and sending him backward. Your hand curls around his wrist, keeping him mostly upright. “Careful. You don’t want a death as boring as ‘slipped and cracked my head open’.”
You nearly laugh when he latches onto you tighter, if not for the acute awareness of his fingers digging into you like a lover seeking refuge. Eyes seek out the path ahead in hopes to (like Hongjoong) remove the strange feeling clouding your mind suddenly. Moving along the slated mountain wall, your fingers trace the grooves in the rock until you brush against a familiar symbol, snakehead. Stopping, you feel around until you come in contact with a vine. Pulling on it, you make sure that it’s still strong before speaking to Hongjoong. “I’ll go first. You won’t be able to see me still, so listen to my instructions carefully.” Keeping one hand on the vine, you take hold of his other and press it against the engraved symbol. “Feel that? From precisely here you wrap your hand around this vine. Then your other directly under that hand— that’s number two. Count exactly twenty-seven down, got it? Twenty-seven. Don’t count your feet, count your hands. You’ll come onto a thin ledge against the mountain much like this, it's far narrower so watch your step.There’s multiple ledges so you must count carefully.” You stress. ”Don’t let go of this vine until you can feel the one going across. I have to count exactly once I’m down there so I can’t wait for you, there won’t be enough space, but face sideways, one foot in front of the other and count eighteen steps. Okay? Count your feet that time. Then you’ll reach a crawl space— I’ll go in first. Like the ledge there are multiple holes you could go through, choose the one wrong and you risk death. You have to pull the blackest vine to get it open— but be careful or you could fall.” Then you mutter, suddenly anxious, “fucking hell, I really shouldn’t have let you come,” then louder, “maybe you should go back to the boat.”
Immediately, he goes against your words. Giving you a stern look that you can’t even see, he repeats the instructions back to you. “I’m not leaving you.” He says with finality in his voice. “Now if you don’t want to be here any longer, I suggest we get a move on.”
You can’t even argue. While you’re overly concerned for Hongjoong — this fawn of a Demi-God who you believe could die from a simple bug bite — he is right that you don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.
So with a sigh, you whisper good luck and start your descent.
You forgot how disorientating it could be here— hands tightly latched onto the wet vine, you fight to concentrate on your counts whilst the heavy fog literally fogs your senses. Not being able to see and having to merely rely on instinct and the touch of the vine is unnerving and midway your worries for Hongjoong and how he will manage start to form.
Quick to shake the image of him in your head, you remind yourself to worry about you and keep count.
Sweat beads your hairline, teeth grinding in their clench as you use all the strength you have to keep that precise grip on the vine.
There’s little relief when you finish counting and reach the ledge, immediately seeking the next guide.
“YOUR TURN.”
There’s a queasiness in your stomach when you start to walk across. You forgot how anxious this place makes you. How weak.
You thought you’d never have to return here, but I guess the Gods really aren’t that kind.
That anxieties only heightened upon wondering how Hongjoong’s doing. You haven’t heard any untimely falls to death, or any cries of distress — yet. But it’s eerily quiet apart from the continuous onslaught of rain and wind whipping, so there’s no way to really tell how he’s doing and that makes you uncharacteristically nervous.
The rain has made everything all the more unsteady, your legs quivering in their effort to stay firmly in line as you walk along the ledge up until you’ve counted down to the last step. You can barely tell there’s a hole before you; vines heavily shroud the opening and the rain makes it hard to search for the right one when the waters darkened them all. Pulling at the blackest, you send a quick prayer that it’s the right one and tug as hard as you can on it.
It’s then that the rest of the vines slither away unveiling the entrance to the Graeae’s cave.
Grunting, your sore hands twist around the vines, experimentally tugging before you use it to start hauling yourself up and crawl through the muddied space. Beetles and ants and the like crawl past you, forearms disturbing the soil and discolouring your faded white shirt until you stop halfway to look back.
Minutes seem to pass and with that your breaths grow laboured, Usually you’d go on, not second guessing, but each part of you seems frozen, apprehensive as pleas voice over and over in your head and you debate going back.
Just as you start to shift backward, the vines start to unravel and there’s a slither of light. Now you’re breathing in relief, waiting another moment until you’re sure Hongjoong’s coming.
“You good?” You call out, the echo making you cringe.
“Yeah.” He calls back.
Wordlessly you turn back around and resume crawling. Hearing his grunts and the occasional ugh surely upon spotting all the bugs and sinking into the mud, makes you feel relieved, almost amused.
But as soon as you reach the end of the crawl space, that humour dissipates and that familiar dread and anxiety clogs at your throat and you swear you could throw up right now.
Carefully, you drag yourself until you’re kneeling and can stretch your leg out. Keeping hold of a vine, you start to lower yourself until your feet touch those familiar cold stone floors. Hongjoong following suit not long after.
“Now what?” He whispers as soon as he lands.
“Shh.” You say sharply, eyes adjusting to the ghoulish darkness.
Taking hold of his wrist, you keep to the cave walls and carefully start to lead him.
The Graeae sleep much of the time and waking them suddenly is asking for a beheading. So each step is calculated, even aware of how your own breath could be startling.
Afterall you don’t know what goodies they have in store.
Unlike their official status of being monsters in exile, the Gods have shown to favour them — a favour for a favour.
Perhaps Hades has gifted them one his loyal hounds to guard their shitty fortress. Or mayhaps a wicked disorienting prison of walls built by Hephateus. You wouldn’t even be surprised if the messenger God Hermes has offered his tricks to them.
Though, you seem to have forgot that the Graeae — old, conniving and viscous — are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves without such gifts and trickents, because you feel the slightest draft atop your head, barely able to suck in a breathe when you look up and hanging above you—
“Wellllll,” the voice grates, husky and raw like a voice box left to form organically under the sun, “look what treat has decided to drop in.”
Every muscle you’ve honed to react swiftly has become null under the silhouette of the youngest Grarea. Her breath washes over you like the stench of corpses sitting in humid air. You can’t even get yourself to recoil. Completely frozen.
It’s Hongjoong who pulls you back as her spindly limbs climb through the crack above, overgrown nails clawing into the walls as she moves like an abnormally giant spider until she can jump right in front of you.
“No hug for your mother?”
You feel Hongjoong tense behind you at the word — the word that makes bile rise up your throat.
“I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“No?” She hacks, webs in her throat, coated in shadow. You’re not sure if you wish there was enough light in the room to see her. “Not here to steal again? Or have you finally come home?” Her head moves to the side and you can tell she’s peering at the man behind you. Suddenly, you feel protective and all the more stupid for bringing him. Standing straight, the muscles suddenly remember all they have learnt and guide your hand to your sword. “Oh?” that cackle is haunting, a taunt meant to bring dread. “Want us to meet our son in law?” Her laughter grows, wheezed and broken. “Bring him closer then.”
Her words are coated in slime, causing you to unsheathe your sword and hold it before you in warning.
“I’m not here to cause trouble.” You repeat through clenched teeth. “I require the eye’s sight.”
Now she sneers. Hollowness filling with rage. “You dare to ask—”
“—I have the scroll. The one of your curse.”
She turns so still, that you can’t even hear the faint whistle of her breathe through her distorted neck.
Then she wraps her stone-dead knuckles on the floor over and over, so hard you almost want to stop her in concern she’s hurting herself.
Silence.
Empty space, everything swallowed into nothingness to the point numbness seeps in. Something cracks and now your ears ring, like something explosive burst in your ears, an endlessly piercing sound.
Next your vision sways, dark spots amongst even darker spots throwing your whole balance off until there's a feeling of free falling— that sensation when you're on the cusp of slipping into sleep but your consciousness isn't ready to be quietened just yet and you're plummeting, plummeting until—
Gasp.
Steadily. Everything returns to you steadily. Air rushes around you and cocooned in that freshness the beat of your heart bounces around.
Air hisses out, the cocoon of air dragging away sharply and with it the ringing closes around a fist stopping its sound completely.
The first thing you register is your heavy panting. The next is the tight grip you have on Hongjoong’s hand. Blinking, your head snaps back to see the same dazed look on his face.
Scouring the surroundings, you note the rods of fire mounted roughly to the cracked walls. Along its surface are grooves of various shapes and patterns, almost artistic for the layer of the things deemed monsters.
Right. The monsters.
From the walls two more creatures slither out.
Rolling like white foam of the sea, then come unto the ground, spearing swift like the unforgiving sea until their bulbous greying faces are reared at yours.
“Child of ours!” They both shriek, snapping their heads left and right.
Ancient should not mistake one for thinking these are mere senile bugs to be squashed beneath one's feet. No. The eldest of the Graeae, in size and in their intimidating aura, are a force to be reckoned with.
Smaller than giants, bigger than even a large man, Deino and Enyo raise themselves by their heavy necks to their full height, like a pair of overgrown tumours on legs, limbs that are not spindly as many would think, but bubbled with lumps of skin grown over skin, heavy.
Deino — the eldest — has the tooth wedged into the snout, once her mouth, and bobs her heavy head back and forth above you.
Enyo’s loose skin beneath her chin drags across the floor, sweeping back and forth as she excitedly jerks this way and that.
Taking a deep breath, you grip Hongjoong’s hand and have him follow your movements into a bow. Upon touching him, you realise that just maybe you are thankful for his presence. Though you will never admit that aloud.
“Oh great Graeae, bless me with your sight and I shall make it worth your while.”
Silence greets you. Not even their loose skin flapping, or their incessant gummy clacking can be heard.
And then you recoil at their thunderous laughter, echoing volcanically in the cave. It’s such a haunting sound, but to you it’s familiar and your eyes squeeze shut as memory upon memory of such laughter being shared with you growing up flashes in your mind.
The most wicked play of a lifetime. One that would amuse Kings and Gods alike.
Standing tall, you jerk back when Enyo instantly lowers and you feel the cold of her finger tip your chin back and though she has no eyes, staring at her twisted face has your heart stilling.
Deep, unearthly, ghoulish, she asks “Is the boy the exchange?” Before she can turn her attention fully to Hongjoong, you step in front of him.
“I think our child is wedded.” Phemphredo tinkers, a child-like eeriness behind her giggle.
“I already told you—” You hesitate, huffing, “—mothers. I am here for the eye and the eye alone. This man is none of your concern. But know that he is under my protection. Let that be your only warning.”
“Oh, I only tease.” Phemphredo caws, huffing in her own way. “Daughter of ours claims to have the scroll.”
“The scroll.”
“The scroll.”
They echo, unnaturally waving their bodies around. A sight of glee.
“Show us.”
“Yes, show usss.”
“You know how this works. Part of the prophecy and then proof of goods.”
They skitter and grunt annoyed, swarming before you in their tantrum.
“Taught the child too well.” Enyo hacks.
“Mother is proud.” Pemphredo chitters, moving closer to you and tiptoeing her boiled claws along your unsheathed sword.
Deino, however, is less amused. With her fat tongue against the roof of her mouth, she sucks in sharply, gums bared and even her sisters have the sense to quieten down.
“Child of mine, I have dreamed of your return. And every dream your fate has never been the same. How long have you withheld the scroll from us until you deemed us necessary for your use again?”
There is a reason that Deino is associated with dread. The absence of her eyes… the complete empty blackness in her toothless semblance of a mouth… the corpse-come-to-life of her movements, dead, but full of something dark and daunting… you can feel every ounce of her disdain and if, and only if you were not their child, you would feel the air being sucked into your lungs and refusing to leave, drowning in that dread she so easily conjures.
But for you, this is just another bedtime whisper in lieu of a normal goodnight.
“Mother, you never had to dream of me to remind me that my fate hung in your callous hands. Now, I’m on a schedule so let’s get on with it, hm?”
The silence lingers and when at long last, she merely tuts, the sisters seem to understand because they turn into each other and whisper rapidly. You see Pemphredo reach into her side — literally into her side — and bare the eye.
The three place their hands together over it and ghoulishly chant, words sharp whispers and a nonsensical cacophony.
Part of you. A very small part softens at the sight before you. Because you know that your mothers would never turn their back to a visitor, lest they stick something in their back.
And you realise that this display means they still have some trust for you. Maybe even love. Or their version of it.
And you realise that maybe you do too.
Feeling choked up, you clear your throat, shaking your head and inhale deeply, standing straighter. Caught up in this reunion, you forget Hongjoong’s presence until a hand on your back makes you jump. Glancing over, his eyes face forward, trained on the Graeae, but that doesn’t stop the slow circles he rubs into you comfortingly. And unwillingly, your body relaxes into him. So much so that when the Graeae suddenly turns around you jump a little, tensing all over again.
“Death. But not written in stone.” Enyo begins, chin wagging along.
Pemphredo gleefully waves forward, distorted face holding an even more distorted smile. “A hook to decide. Made by him.
“Yesss by himm.” Enyo echoes.
“Hephaestus. Blacksmithhh. Creator of weapons. A hook to guide you through the fog of those Isles' dearest daughter.” Deino hollowly breathes out.
Of course, there was no need to tell them where you would be going. They saw for themselves.
Deino approaches you, staring upon your face as if she could actually see. And maybe she could, in an instance gripping your cheeks tightly, she leans closer to your ear. “Dangeroussss path. Even mother would be unhappy to see you go to the underworld so soon.” releasing, her head jerks back and she swiftly turns to face her sisters. “The scroll?”
True to your word, reaching into your satchel, the book is brought forth. Holding it out, Enyo snatches it and like a pair of children fighting over the last piece of bread, they smack into each other's sides, hissing and drooling to read it first.
“Childdd. Just because you have a way out doesn’t mean you willl. Things await there that even the eye cannot seee. Things that could mean the end of you.”
You’re not sure what to say. Staring at the backs of their heads wrapped up in a strange sensation of foreign familiarity.
So you don’t say anything. Merely take hold of Hongjoong’s wrist and turn to leave through the crawl space you used to leave… last time.
“I suspect this willll be the lassst time we seee you. Deathhh or nottt.”
Unsure of why — maybe the nostalgia, maybe the longing — but you throw a “maybe for my birthday.” over your shoulder and continue on your way.
“Tell the child the ressssst.” Pemphredo urges.
And before you can ask exactly what is the rest, Enyo bounds forward heavily until a roughened hand grips the back of Hongjoong’s shirt and heaves him above the ground, dangling him before you. Immediately, you spin, sword ready to cut through at a moment's notice.
And Enyo must notice the sudden bloodlust, because she cackles and tells you “be calmmmm child of mine. We won’t bring harm unto your little friend but! Be warned he is trouble — you best get rid of him. Mother will eat him if you so wishhh.”
Growling, you jab your sword against her armpit, not enough to pierce her tough skin, but enough to make her shriek back and drop Hongjoong.
“I’m just saying!” She hisses.
“She speaks the truth, child.” Deino affirms, keeping her back to you. “Trouble.”
“Trouble.” The others echo.
“Get rid of him and more than one problem will go — Love and Rhode.”
“Love and Rhode.” They chitter.
Road? Do they mean the path I’m to take? Always with their damn riddles.
She turns then. “Loveeee from Rhode, loveeee from you.”
Me? That makes you laugh. For real. “From me? Mothers, what love do I have?”
The smile to others would look horrifying. To you, that was one of the rare ones of warmth. “Keeppp him and findddd out. But get rid of him and be rid of Rhode.”
You finally leave with a scowl.
Love? Maybe the Eye really is on the blinker.
—
“What did they say?” Meli asks, hand curling around your forearm as she helps pull you up onto the deck. Seonghwa helps Hongjoong up and Meli’s question prompts you to look back at the man. Your brows furrow when you frown, averting your eyes and retraining your attention on Meli.
“Head a course for Clop Island.”
Her brows raise in surprise. “Okay. Why?”
She follows you to the helm, noticing the strange intensity surrounding you— it’s like the air around you has been pulled in to solidify in a crack of lightning and oozing black, leaving a shroud of darkness for you to carry. Taking your spyglass out, you distract yourself by looking off into the distance, even though it’s basically moot with how rough the waters are and the greying clouds dipping down to distort your surroundings. Meli narrows her eyes at you, wiping a stray droplet away when she comes up next to you.
“Y/n.” Whoops, your name, are you in trouble? “What did they say— why are we going to Clop island?”
Sighing you turn, moving around her to start heading the course yourself, hands gripping the ship's wheel. Except you forget this is Meli. As you move to steer, her own hand comes up to grip the wheel, a firm hold halting you from moving. Her pointed stare makes you sigh again.
“The odds are… more out of our favour than in. The giants can make us something to increase our chances, but even with that this could… be our last adventure. But isn’t that how we’ve been living? Like it's our last?”
She lets go of the wheel and frowns at you. “Exactly. And you know we would all die for you. If you know this, why have you got such a face? It can’t just be about that.”
Hesitance is written within your expression, buried in the fabrics of your skin, staining. The wood turns easily under your hands, eyes facing the horizon as you take the ship back out into more open water away from the watery-wench of this cursed place— the place you once called home.
“I’m not sure yet.” You mutter; the vague reply all you can really give her.
—
The journey to Clop Island takes a day and a half. You don’t sleep at all. Wading out of the waters of the Graeaes lair takes time and precision and with fog and darkness falling over you, it was time you couldn’t afford to waste, but had to. It felt like crawling through a swamp on your belly, gurgles of the unknown hiding below, the sharp teeth of rocks waiting to cut cut cut.
But in waters such as those, all it takes is a breakthrough. A stream of light parting the clouds and hitting the horizon, giving way for a direction of safety. Just as night hits you’re away from the foggy tomb and for but a while, you’re all on safer territory,
Even when you had come away, your hands refused to relent its steady grip on the wheel, the polished wood fusing with your flesh as if now a part of you. You’re not sure why you’re heaving the way you are— of course the task is strenuous and often leaves you exhilarated and breathing heavily — but you knew the niggling in your chest to get away was one of anxiety, the same poison you felt the first and only time you had departed from here.
Meli approaches. “Captain, I’ll keep us on cou—”
“No.” You don’t mean for your words to come as sharply as they do, but you need this feeling to go away, you need that knowledge that you’re where you’ve been for so long, you need the grounding of the sea. “I’m sorry, friend. Manage the sails for me. I’ll stay here.”
There’s that look in Meli’s eyes that lets you know she has noticed how tense you are, but again, she says nothing and leaves with a nod. The brief moment of being alone, gaze stretching out with the mass of the sea, finally has some of that pressing weight alleviating from your chest, allowing a shuddery breath to pass your lips. Pulling out your compass, the wheel turns under your hand in the direction you need, getting further and further away from where you once were, heading closer to where you need to be.
It’s odd how changed the air feels. As if aware that it’s away from the mangled decaying land of doom, now clear and fresh and filling your lungs with its purity.
You don’t realise how greedily you’re gobbling down that air, deep gulps swallowed down your throat, until a hand breaks you from the motions, heavy on your shoulder making your hair whip around.
The one person you really don’t want to see right now stands before you, and what’s worse is that damned expression on his face— concern.
“Are you alright, y/n?” You almost retch at the way he says your name. Those soft musical-like notes of his voice, that bloody telling God in him only has the voices of those you considered your mothers whispering love, love, love in your ears and it makes every inch of you sick to your stomach.
Love? Did the Gods not prove from the moment of your waking breath that you would know no such thing? Not from your birth parents, nor your surrogate parents and most certainly not this kind. Your new family that you gained after staining your life in blood are as broken as you— as unworthy of any good as you— you love each other brokenly because that is what you are.
So what does this Demigod of good think he’s doing showing you concern? It isn’t right.
“Yes. Leave me be, I have to concentrate.”
Though your eyes remain ahead, you feel the way he bristles from behind you. Lips part with his words dying on his tongue in confusion and soon he is frowning at the back of your head. But he puts your mood down to your fatigue. He wishes to tell you to rest. That sleep is needed after such a taxing journey, but he knows how stubborn you are. Something he has come to love and hate about you. So with that, he wordlessly retreats and you’re left to let out the breath you’ve been holding, begging your insides to be rid of this anxiety that deep down you know won’t fade as long as Hongjoong is still around.
—
“Right. As usual, be on your guard. The giants don’t take too kindly to strangers. Bring the stuff. You lot stay here. And you lot with me.”
“What about me?” Your tired eyes, already straining under the sun, strain even more when they lay on Hongjoong.
“Stay here.” You reply gruffly, already turning your attention elsewhere. “Make sure it’s secure, Astro. It’s gonna be a pain in the arse to carry. Leave the dragon. If Hephaestus is to help us, I don’t want him catching sight of our little friend and changing payment.”
As you move, Hongjoong’s hand shoots out and pulls at your arm. “Wait here? Let me come with you. I can help car— “
“No.”
He is taken aback for but a moment, until that same assertiveness fills his eyes when he convinced you to let him travel with you to the Graeae. He doesn’t count on your indifference though. Your eyes cold and voice even chillier when you move nose to nose.
“You are under my care and I am telling you that you will not be coming until I say you can.”
“I am under your care, but I am not one of your crew that you can just—”
“BY THE GODS HONGJOONG.” Everyone falls silent at your rage, Hongjoong’s eyes wavering under your heated stare. “You are very careless and seem to not mind that if you are to die or come to harm under my care that that means trouble for us.” A crack forms in his heart at that— us — a line you have just drawn between Hongjoong and all of you, the people who he has come to see as friends.
“What do you mean?” He whispers.
“What I mean Demigod,” oh, that hurts— when was the last time you called him that and not his name? “Is that Hecate left her dear nephew under my care and if something were to happen to you, who do you think the Gods will turn their wrath unto?”
He frowns. “But… Hecate wouldn’t. Nor would the other Gods. Why would they?”
“Hecate wouldn’t, but the rest of them.” You scoff. “The Gods have used less reasons to spread their plague.” You step away, standing straighter and squaring out your shoulders. “You will stay here. Even if I have to tie you to the damned mast myself.”
Silence settles over the crew, finishing preparations to head onto land with nervous glances between you and Hongjoong and once everyone is ready, you depart without sparing so much as a glance back at him.
Hongjoong watches the distance between you and him grow, feeling unnerved the further you went, as if you were really slipping away through his fingers.
Meanwhile, your sleep-deprived eyes strain among the treelines, peering through the dark shallows of the woods with your fingers curled tightly around the hilt of your blade.
Behind you, your crew grunts holding the case of precious metal to be given to Hepheataus as payment. They haul it uphill, feeling the dried mud slip beneath them soft like sand.
Each step is a reminder of how different this place is to that of the Graeaes land— where rough slate would lay, monotone and brittle, here stretches valleys of flora, the breeze billowing the sleeves of your shirt a soft greeting compared to the stabbing sharpness that swirled those gloomy mountainsides. The sweet scented blossoms that offered a reprieve, making a calm wash over you almost making you want to let your eyes fall shut and lay to rest on the grassy marshmallow ground, differs greatly to the stale air that only feels like each inhale is of a deadly poison.
Finally reaching the top of the slope, your eyes lay on the sight before you; two columns of trees, the aisle between it dusted with fallen leaves and stolen petals, a stream spills in a snake like formation around the tall trunks and leading down the aisle at the centre is a grand creation — one that speaks of a workmanship beyond that of a mere mortal.
The artistry begins at the floors, a circle embedded with a mosaic of rarities— emeralds and crystals and gems bringing about a ring of sparkling jewels to the feet that may be blessed to walk upon it. Standing tall on columns of gold intricately carved with opal figures dancing with wings on clouds, with a slab of smoothened wood balanced atop, is a sculptured giant carved of that same wood dauntingly shadowing over you all. The citron wood fragrance permeates to where you stand tracing each minute detail of the giant; armour moulded to look as strong as the wood, the crest of its shield bearing a wild beast, rustic silver draping down its back as a cape, with a sword of that same silver in hand, hilt a twist of ivory — every inch purposed to exude its value being beyond that of mere mortal coin, to grace those who might look upon it a chance to witness something that seems to have fallen from the heavens.
“Well. At least we know we’re at the right place.” Meli comments.
Not bothering to reply, you heed your crew a caution. “Don’t think about stealing anything. Remember, we’re here for their help.”
The giant seemed closer for it was that big, but the walk stretched into long minutes, the heavy chest of metal weakening your crew, drawing grunts and sweat. All the while you fight the sting in your eyes, the heat spurred by your movements sending you into further fatigue. Each bristle of breeze on leaves, each snap of twigs beneath a forest creature's foot, any rustle, any bird's caw sends your mind ablaze in overstimulation of sound, fighting to keep your senses keen while your body urges for rest.
You’re momentarily blinded by a stroke of sunlight burning your irises and suddenly you’re thinking of Hongjoong. Of him and his apollo-worthy smile and your fatigue sobers into rage. Your jaw clenches while you start to stomp ahead, with your brain, much like the sun on your eyes, burning that image of him at the forefront of your mind.
Behind you, the crew look on tiredly, even their tongues weighing down with that exhaustion preventing them from calling out after you to slow down.
But if you had slowed down and your senses were keen, without the stain of your needless rage, you wouldn’t have heard the arrow cut through the air like molten blade through rock.
Some would say you move as if you were the kin of Ares, God of War himself, gliding around like the moving winds, grace and sharpness, and swinging your sword to send the arrow ricocheting away from you.
“FUCK! TO THE TREES! CAPTAIN— Y/N.” Meli calls your name as you stand there staring back in the direction that the arrow came from, the rest of your crew scarpering for the tree line, leaving the chest abandoned in the middle of the path.
Sniffing, there is no linger of anything foreign in the air, but as you move your foot again, another arrow comes. You block it easily. That’s when you hear the subtle shift beneath your foot, the gravel crunching differently somehow. As you look, you frown to see you’re standing on some sort of contraception hidden amongst the dirt. Experimentally, you press down again, another arrow that you block coming.
“THERE’S SOME SORT OF WEAPON ON THE FLOOR TRIGGERING THE ARROWS. NO ONE’S HERE.” And though you shout the words, you’re careful to scan the surrounding woods, to listen out for anything else. “WE HAVE TO GO SLOW. WATCH YOUR STEPS.”
Gradually they come out from the trees, eyes scanning the floors while your head tilts back to stare at the enormity of the statue giant.
You can see why Hephaestus is considered a God of craft.
This time you wait for your crew to reach you before you move again, instructing Meli and Calista to watch the backs of those carrying the chest, now there’s this odd contraption to be wary of.
Studying each stone, scrutinising each ridge in the path, any cracks, anything out of place, your steps move slower and calmer, giving all your focus on weaving a safe path to the giant with your crew. And the moment you’re before the looming figure, you glance back in signal to wait. You lift the flap of your pouch, pulling forth a single golden coin, one of high value and move forward to place it on the large offering plate perched over the smoothened wood at the giant's feet.
Such a careless mistake of yours, to think that any danger would be over so soon— your foot lands on the grey step leading up to the offering plate, except the slab of stone grinds as it sinks under your weight until it completely locks completely flat in place.
Silence overcomes the surroundings, the most minuscule sound of the wind brushing along the scattered leaves even fading away to leave each of your souls holding its bated breath.
A chill that feels uncomfortably familiar runs up your spine, one that scars deeply as the sky seems to dull— a groan, heavy and thunderous, that soon turns into something ear piercing — the screech of metal — sends hands rushing to smother against ears and then the quaking of the ground comes, rumbling like the descent of a ten thousand army marching upon you all.
But this isn’t an army.
The Gods have wicked tricks indeed.
Urgency in your voice, a command to head for the treeline near tears your throat apart. Chest forgotten on the ground that rumbles and splits beneath your feet drives every one of your muscles to surge you forward faster, trying to remain steady as metal continues to groan and wood creaks and ache and then that droning hinge sounds out, languidly moving through the air casting a shadow over your stricken form staring up at another of the Gods beasts.
The giant’s metal foot lands heavy on the ground, compressing the earth, grounding it up into fine dust of destruction.
You’ve seen many things in your short lifetime— so much so, that you thought nothing would leave you frigid, boneless and unstaring with no logical thought or control of function over yourself to just run, yet now you are proven wrong..
The other leg rises, the iron that secured the wooden joints shrieking as it drags through the air almost in slow motion before your very eyes until it settles steadily on the ground.
And then it’s heavy head moans as it looks down. Directly at you,
Shit.
Those groans of heavy wood turning haunt your ears as it’s sword-wielding arm pulls back; the enormity of it casts the surroundings in chilling shadow and suddenly the total absence of warmth, of sun, pushes Hongjoong to the forefront of your mind once again, bringing forth blinding light, as if bringing his very own sun and it’s what snaps your body to attention— the metal sword starts to cut through the air as the wooden arm comes down heavily and all your instincts flare in a buzz under your skin; the unsteady floor is nothing compared to the rockiness of the ships deck, doing little to knock you on your feet as you rush beneath the giant, between its legs just as the end of its sword crashes down heavily, wedging deeply into the Earth. It breaks and crumbles away, gathering dust as its heaviness is lifted once more.
Taking advantage of its slowness you pull out your daggers stabbing it into its wooden leg and use it as leverage to start scaling its length. The giant lets out a deep wooden groan in confusion, bowing its body as it scours the dusty surroundings for you or anyone else. You grunt, the strain on your arms soon making them sore, each time you haul yourself up further, feeling the weight of the exertion on your shoulders. It’s when you’re halfway up the leg that the giant starts to move, loud rumbling steps along the broken up path.
Sweat limits your vision, your limbs trembling in exertion. The concern for your crew's whereabouts increases tenfold upon hearing Meli’s voice.
Everybit a warrior, in your place she leads the crew, commanding them to secure the giant's legs. No time to look back, you continue climbing, meanwhile Meli flings rope to the others, all of them working together to bind its legs together, grunting and feeling the rope burn their sweaty hands and their feet sinking into the ground as they strain to pull back and keep the rope secure.
It’s no use though, a simple swing tears the rope uselessly, the crew falling back.
“FALL BACK!”
“MELI!” You yell, reaching the giant's knee. “FIRE— NEED FIRE.” Gasping, she nods and orders them all back to the ship with her.
You need to keep the giant distracted from them.
On top of that you don’t know how long it will take for the crew to bring you what you need.
Think, think.
Everytime the Giant moves, its limbs make a horrendous yawn that hurts your ears. The metal holding it together grating and wait— metal… Iron…
Before the Graeae, you were mostly living out in the open and surviving the harsh nights meant needing to secure warmth. More often than not, that meant stealing blankets, or gutting larger forest animals, but one thing you picked up…
Wincing, your teeth grind into each other while you hang on with one arm, reaching behind you to draw an arrow. A special one. A lesson the Graeae taught you, was to always have a weapon for whatever foe. This particular arrow was meant to pierce the tough hide of Chimera, or a sea serpent, but the metal should spark the iron.
With effort, you tear at your shirt and wind it around the arrow and stab the arrowhead at the iron bolt over and over. The giant groans, sounding confused and looks down at you.
Shit.
At least you’ve stolen its attention.
More urgently, your hand brings the arrow downward against the iron, Letting out a squeal, the Giant raises its knee slightly as it brings its arm down, swiping at you, making you swing around, your back hitting the back of its knee. The groan you let out is pained when you haul yourself back up and hit again.
Over and over.
But nothing happens. And the giant is becoming wilder with its movements. Kicking its heavy leg out, almost in slow motion from how much it must weigh and the effort to just raise it.
Resheathing your dagger, you take a chance as its knee passes by a tree to jump. Your stomach collides painfully with a branch, winding you, but with no time to stop, the adrenaline keeps you going. Swinging a leg up until you’re steady, you hastily shuffle to the trunk and yell out.
“OI! WOODEN BEAST OVER HERE.”
The giant groans in reply, heavy head slowly moving to a turn, its body slowly following after. As soon as it spots you, its arm draws up and chops down. Timing the giant's movements, you yell out, jumping to the tree next to it. Your hands just about manage to hang on, grappling for the bark and grunting as you haul yourself up.
You’re not sure how long you can keep this up for. But if you disappear from its sight, you’re sure it will follow Meli and the other’s path.
The giant is smart, however, instead of bringing its arm down, it swipes across at the line of trees you’re in, knocking them over as easily as a child blowing on a dandelion.
Running out of energy, the strength it takes extending your body out to jump and roll to the ground as the tree falls has every part of your body protesting.
Bruised like a peach would best describe the state of your tired and rugged form right now. But you can’t stop.
Quickly, your eyes scour your surroundings, urging your brain to just think.
Think. As you roll this way and that, jumping out of the way of the giant's foot and swiping hand.
Running back towards its base, desperation has you searching for something, anything.
Your surroundings show none of the beauty it once was, now heavy in dust and ruined ground. The only thing intact, the steps leading to the circular path around the giant statue.
The mosaic…
The giant is slowly stomping its way over. You have mere seconds, eyes trailing the mosaic embedded with those jewels you spotted earlier. There’s a chance. A small chance.
Iron pirate. There.
Crouching down, you hastily lay the material wrapped around the arrow and spear the metal head against the mineral. Growling, each strike weakens your already tired body, but you urge yourself to keep going. Keep at it until a laugh of disbelief hacks up your throat at the sight of sparks.
They fizzle against your cloth, bit but bit until as the giant's shadow looms over you, it catches alight. Picking it up with the arrow you hold it in front of you and run aimlessly toward the giant, poking at its wooden feet. Woodenly groaning, it looks down, stumbling back.
It’s only a small fire, and if you’re crushed to death it won’t be much use, but the giant has enough sense to fear it. Its sword scrapes against the floor, tearing up its base as it draws towards you, but it's easy to step under the giant in its blind spot and press the fire against its leg.
The moans of pain almost sound real and you wonder how even a God could make a wooden being feel.
Unfortunately, that little bit of luck seems to be running out, when Meli and the others arrive with lit torches and the Giant wails, turning towards them.
Amongst the crew is Hongjoong.
When he sees your scraped and weak body stumbling beneath the giant, calling after it as its angry steps turn towards them, all he can think is that he wants to protect you.
No other thought required, he runs ahead of the others and you see him. In slow motion you see his dumb self running ahead and the giant’s foot drawing back ready to kick him away like he’s nothing but an annoying bug.
You trip as you yell his name, about to run to him. The fire burns weakly beside you, eyes in a daze watching the scene unfold.
Maybe though, luck hasn’t quite left you.
Just a sliver of light hitting something causing your eyes to squint at the sudden bright reflection.
The offering plate.
The distance between the giant and Hongjoong is closing. Fingers seek the coin you’d wedged in your pocket, until you feel its coolness and bring it forth before you in all its golden glory.
With a whisper of a prayer and a kiss, you throw the coin at the plate, watching how it slides through the air at the same moment the giant’s leg is swinging closer to Hongjoong — Hongjoong with such a wild look on his face, you almost smile, thinking how pirate-like he seems.
And then it clatters into the bowl, rolling around, spinning until it falls onto its side with a slow stop.
Silence.
So silent you can even hear the sound of your own breathing now.
And so still.
The giant seems suspended in its position. The suddenness has everyone but Hongjoong stopping. That fool ignores the damn giant and keeps on his path to you.
As he passes, he has to duck out of the way when the giant brings its foot back down and nearly hits him. As if none of you are there the giant mechanically turns, its steps shaking the ground as it turns back towards you. Eyes wide, you watch the mammoth piece of wood reach closer and closer.
“CMON!” You’re not even sure when Hongjoong reaches you, but it’s a good thing. Hauling you up by your arm, he lets you lean against him as he pulls you away from the altar. The giant lays its foot on the wood, making a thunderous sound. Then the other.
If you had stayed where you were you surely would have been crushed.
Heavily panting, you look in amazement as the giant takes on its previous position and just, completely stills. As if it never moved in the first place.
“Are you okay?” You jolt hearing that soft voice in your ear. Looking beside you, all you can do is nod, swallowing the dryness in your throat when the proximity registers.
His arm still securely around you. Shoulder pressed against his firm chest.
That has you jerking away. Aching legs protesting the rough way you step away, shudders already travelling through you at the loss of his comfort.
He opens his mouth to say something, but by now the others have caught up.
“CAPTAIN!” The chorus of their yells brings a smile to your lips. Oddeye immediately scoops you up in a bearhug, squeezing you so tight you wince. Sheepishly he puts you down and as soon as he does, Meli jabs you in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“That was for nearly dying without us.”
That actually makes you laugh. “I did not nearly die. Had it all under con—”
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Rapid movement among the trees has you all on high alert, backing into each other with your swords at the ready.
More giants?
What emerges doesn’t make you feel at ease.
The God and his Cyclops.
“I do wish Zeus had taught you mortals how to follow instructions better. Though I have to say I’m impressed you thought to finish your offering.” Hephaestus takes a glance at his wooden giant and he lets out a gleeful laugh— a long, long gleeful laugh that spirals into a manic one that has him wheezing and bowing his body. “Brontes get to work on fixing up this mess, would you? Very quick thinking using fire. Not something one would usually have handy, either.”
“I believe in being prepared.”
The smile he gives you is almost twisted. “If you’re prepared, I take it you have also prepared something for me?”
“Yes, I—”
“Let us take rest first. There is another mortal guest, I hope you don’t mind.” The God interrupts.
No other words are given the chance for exchange when Hephaetues signals for the giant to start walking, each heavy step bringing tremors to the ground. Sharing a glance with Meli (and briefly with Hongjoong who you’re quick to look away from) you instruct the crew to grab the chest and start following.
The walk is a long one and now that the adrenaline has completely died down, every sore, ache and pull on your muscles is excruciating. Your jaw feels wired shut with how hard you’re clenching it, breathes coming out heavy under the burning sun. Sweat rolls down your skin, sticking to your lashes and the crevice of your clavicle.
All in all, you’re sticky, hot, exhausted and aching beyond belief.
But as always, you say nothing.
With your knees starting to feel wobbly, you gradually (and subtly) slow your pace behind the crew. There’s a drowsiness that makes your eyelids feel heavy, chest moving with your shallow breaths and you’re half concentrated on not passing out and the other half on walking straight— meaning, you completely miss the way Hongjoong’s eyes follow your lagging figure, quick to note how you slowly distance yourself from the crew. Concern fills his gaze that soon lands on your expression that is nothing short of exhausted. The lazy blink of your eyes, the dullness settling on your face and the way he can see you practically dragging yourself to move is what has his own pace subtly slowing and soon enough he’s far at the back, a few paces over from you leaving him to keep an eye on you out of the corner of his eye.
He hasn’t spoken with you properly since that tense-filled outburst back on the ship or after he asked you if you were okay. And the weight of it has manifested itself in a fist sized stone to press down in his gut.
Keeping his distance has that stone breaking into shards, stabbing at his insides. It’s just that painful to feel like he can’t go to you, having you so close, yet feeling as if you’re so far— all that was running through his head was to rush to you after being told that there’s trouble and seeing you on the floor behind the giant, looking ragged and near broken, smoke everywhere made him hold his breath with prayer upon prayer for your safety.
And the Gods answered his prayers at the very least— because you are safe and sound.
But as he watches your steps stagger and then your body begin to sway, he worries you’re not totally safe and sound, compelled to close the careful space he’s kept between you two.
And just in time too, because when your body slumps and you start to fall forward, you find that instead of feeling that harsh thud against the ground, you’re being propped up against something warm and firm, an arm slipping around your waist and allowing your weight to rest against it.
Something faintly floral and sea-kissed floats up your nostrils dizzying you further, yet calming the heavy thud of your heart. Which is surprising when you recognise that scent so clearly, skin humming in recognition of that touch on your body, and rather than pulling away like you so want to, your body decides that the comfort is needed, having no physical or mental strength to pull away from Hongjoong. (If you were conscious enough, you’d comment that you hoped this wouldn’t become a habit. And Hongjoong would have cheekily replied that he would definitely be making it one.)
You’ve both stopped walking — you with no choice to do otherwise and Hongjoong with his need to take care of you welling up inside him — he pulls you firmly against him whilst manoeuvring the canteen at his side between your bodies, pushing the cap off. The arm around your waist slides up to bend around your shoulder, his fingers delicately laying against your jaw and tip your head back. His frown deepens as he watches your eyes roll out of focus, softly muttering an encouragement for you to drink some water; you feel the rim of the canteen press against your lips, Hongjoong balances your face between his dainty fingers and then you feel the coolness of liquid flooding into your mouth. He murmurs softly for you to swallow, eyes focused on your downcast eyes and making sure you drink. There’s relief on your parched lips, in your throat and your overheated skin.
Though you’re still feeling weak, there’s a certain rejuvenation now, but not enough to get you to pull yourself away from Hongjoong. Ensuring you’ve had enough water, he replaces the cap and lets it swing back by his side. Gaze lingering on your face, soon you feel the brush of his fingers trailing up your cheek pushing the strands of hair sticking to your sweaty face away, curling behind your ear. The touch lingers and your breathing feels odd for an entirely different reason, sun-drunk no more, but rather intoxicated by the mere sensation of his skin against yours. There’s a tug at your heart, one that tugs on your dead brain that should be making you pull away.
But you can’t.
If anything you sink more into his comfort, letting him bear your weight as he slowly starts to walk again.
The distance has grown between you and your crew, though you can still see them and Hephateus perched atop the giants shoulder. Everyone but them has slowed down, fatigue hitting you all.
Hongjoong’s eyes switch between eyeing the ground and making sure you’re still at least conscious. It’s insane how those few seconds of those sparkling brown eyes falling over your face can make your skin feel like the sun is rising and bringing with it, it’s warmth.
The walk is long still, but the entire time he holds you securely, all up until you reach the centre of the island, where Haepheatus instructs one of his giants to tend to you all.
Everyone all but collapses on the green, a chorus of grunts and groans speaking of everyone's exhaustion. But, Hongjoong doesn’t care about everyone else right now. He only cares about you. Sharply, his eyes scour the group and once he spots that familiar face, again uncaring of the exhaustion it holds, he turns to you, walking to a tree surrounding the green and lowering you to rest against the trunk providing you shade, Hongjoong cups your cheek briefly, pulling his arms away. Your lids feel even heavier if possible, but the noticeable detachment, that missing comfort, has your hands automatically curling around Hongjoong’s shirt, a weak fist clinging to the flimsy material.
He freezes, swallowing the sudden dryness as his eyes flit down to where you’re holding onto him. Those shards in his stomach crumble away into nothing, insides nothing but sickly sweet honey. There’s no stopping the way the curls at the edges of his lips slowly start to stretch on his face as he smiles down at you. He wishes he could stay in the moment, but your head starts lolling and he’s reminded of the issue at hand. Voice gentle, he leans forward to press his lips to the side of your head, “I’ll be back, okay? I’m going to get Hwa.” Your reply is a bout of incoherent mumbling and there’s no way to explain the consuming ache that falls in Hongjoong’s chest when he carefully lets your hands drop into your lap and he steps away.
Those eyes scour the crowd again, relief flooding when he easily spots Seonghwa amongst the many faces. Energy drained from the journey and the heat piling down on him dissipates with the urgency to get help for you, legs speed walking through the outstretched limbs taking up the space.
“Hwa.” Immediately he looks up with a lazy glance, meeting Hongjoong’s concentrated eyes droning into his. “It’s y/n she—”
Before he can even finish, Seonghwa’s sitting up, brows furrowing. “Where is she?”
You’re in the same position Hongjoong left you in, albeit now your eyes are closed. Hongjoong watches Seonghwa crouch down and press his hand to your forehead, softly uttering your name until you respond with a moan.
“She’s probably exhausted. The heats not helping. It’s good you put her in the shade.” Hongjoong merely nods, eyes focusing on your face. Seonghwa notices the way he’s looking at you and huffs a smile that morphs into a full blown grin. Pulling a bundle of cloth from his side bag, Seonghwa empties the remainder of his water onto the material, allowing it to soak up the coolness before gently placing it on your forehead. “We should get her to drink some more water though. And get her a bed as soon as possible.” His nod is more fervent now, taking hold of his canteen to see how much water he has left.
Facing Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s voice softens with his smile. “Go ahead and get some more. I’ll stay with her.” Hesitance befalls Hongjoong’s face, something Seonghwa picks up quickly, making him snicker quietly. “She’ll be fine. Go on now.”
One of Hephaestus' one-eyed giants has already set up two large marquees; the temporary structure is made of smoothened wooden beams bent from saplings shoved into the ground by its strong hands and tied together, a covering of thinned leather draped over. In between the trees, there’s a building of wattle and daub, standing even taller than the giants head and after pulling up the latch securing the large and heavy door, he whines deeply, like a groan from the depths of the sea and waves his hand lazily, motioning everyone over.
Hongjoong slips in with the crowd leading into the large hut and realises its a storeroom. Barrels line most of the space, some uncovered allowing Hongjoong to see the dry grains stored inside. The hut opens up at the back, the light almost blinding as it reflects into his eyes and soon Hongjoong realises it’s a lake. He bypasses the rest going for cloth and straw for their makeshift pillows, or those seeking the mounds of bed piled in the corner and heads back out through the doors into the clearing.
Oddly, despite the sun being out in full force, here feels refreshingly cooler. A light breeze takes that stifling feeling off of his skin as he approaches the clear water and kneels at its banks. His palm dips just below its surface, gliding and allowing water to pool in his palm to rub along his neck and the back and over his face, gathering more for him to drink up. He gasps for air after swallowing, not even realising how dehydrated he had become in his concern for you.
The water echoes with his disturbance, eyes mesmerised by the motions for a moment. When it clears he sees himself. He looks so tired. Every inch dim and dull, from the brown of his eyes to the hue of his skin.
It’s like he’s about to worry himself to death.
Something he thinks he’s had to do more often since meeting you.
Except lately it hasn’t been worry for himself.
It’s you.
He doesn’t know how to decipher that exactly. He knows that he’s formed some sort of attachment to you — these thoughts unravelling slowly through his mind as he fills his amphora with water — but he isn’t yet aware of the extent of it. From the moment he met you he felt the enormity of your presence. You’re magnetic. With the way you carry yourself and the way you go about life, you manage to draw people in and he supposes that’s why you’re the captain, why you’re someone people look to for leadership.
But he knows it isn’t merely that. Walking back through the hut, eyes distant with the thoughts clouding his mind, he questions the why. He questions what it is he sees in you. And he questions what you see in him.
When he reaches Seonghwa you’re in the same position he left you in. Your breathing is steady and you seem completely relaxed.
“Here.”
Glancing back, Seonghwa takes the amphora, turning away to bring it towards your lips with soft commands to drink. Hongjoong watches the way Seonghwa lightly taps your face as he presses the rim against you, tipping it back into your mouth, water sliding down your chin as you lazily drink.
"Do you mind going to see if there's somewhere we can let her sleep?"
By now most of the crew have taken rest, all but passing out under the shade of a marquee. He notices that Meli and the few crew who had gone with you in the first place are sitting by the crate.
And soon Hephaestus arrives, exchanging words with Meli. Hongjoong catches him telling them to take rest and that they will discuss things once the captain is awake. Meli bows her head politely and once Hephaestus turns, you see her shoulders sag.
It’s like she can feel his stare, head lifting and swinging around to look directly at him. He offers a smile, continuing on his way, but when Meli starts to make her way over he slows his pace.
“How is she?”
His mouth gapes before words find him. “Fine, thank The Gods. Hwa’s with her now. I’m just going to get a bed ready for her.”
Slowly she nods. Then a misty faraway look overcomes her eyes as she stares straight ahead, making her way over to the storage hut.
“What happened? With the Graeae?”
That has his steps faltering. The thought of the place he’s discovered to be your old home has a thousand questions swirling together. But then at the forefront of his mind is the look on your face when you both left.
Frown blooming his clear skin, he speaks softly, distantly. “I… don’t know. They exchanged words about the journey and what was needed… about the possibility of death. But before leaving they said something that I didn’t hear and I haven't had the chance to ask…” His frown deepens and he wonders what they must’ve said for you to act so strange.
Meli chooses her next words carefully. “The Graeae… They have a way with words. A way that gets in your head. Sometimes you’ll leave knowing more than you came for. And that can be dangerous. Our captain’s definitely reckless, but today … I don’t know.,, just didn’t seem on form. And in any other circumstance, I trust y/n’s decisions. But I’m wondering if they’re thinking straight.” She suddenly stops, palm landing on Hongjoong’s shoulder and giving him a firm stare. “You should know that we would die for our captain. And our captain for us. And we have been in many a reckless situation. But something about this… is starting to feel off. And I’m certain it's because of them.”
Silence lingers uncomfortably. What is he to say to that? He chooses to say nothing. “I’m going to go get her bed ready.”
Meli frowns, withdrawing her hand. “Oh. Okay.”
—
When you come to, the sky is devoid of that sunshine warmth. Apollo has done his job of putting the sun to sleep and now looming high is Selene's moon, bringing forth the constellations.
Your view isn’t of the sky though. It’s of white cloth barely illuminated by moonlight. It takes several blinks for the fogginess to fade and several more before you can will your limbs to move by the inch. Groans of protest crack from your parched throat, body heavy and sore, but at least in much better condition than earlier.
At least you’ve not awoken in the underworld… well you think you haven’t.
Managing to roll onto your side, you’re startled to find a painfully familiar face. He’s propped up against a bundle of hay, head tipped back and mouth agape; like a child, features relaxed, totally vulnerable, and there’s a slick of drool pooling from the corner of his lips that makes you snicker. Compelled, you start to push forward, body protesting the movement as you outstretch your arm, a hair away from his face when he starts to move. Gasping, your hand drops and you roll back onto your back, shutting your eyes — like a child about to be caught being awake when they shouldn’t.
There’s some shuffling beside you and then a long yawn, his lips slapping together after and then just quiet again. You stew in the silence until you feel brave enough to open your eyes again.
And when you do, his are already on your face.
He blinks and suddenly sits up, shuffling toward you on his knees.
“You must be thirsty.” He mutters hoarsely, grabbing his amphora and sliding his free hand beneath your head helping you to raise up and meet the outpour. Though you’re acutely aware of his closeness, of his hand against your hair, you can for a moment ignore it, because he’s right— you are thirsty.
“Thanks.”
He mumbles back a ‘you’re welcome’, moving to his previous spot. The both of you stare up at the fabric ceiling in silence and oddly it's a peaceful one despite the many thoughts hitting tenfold now that you’re rested.
The tent flaps when it’s moved aside and through the darkness you hear Seonghwa’s voice.
“Suppers ready. We should wake them.”
“Ah, actually —”
“—I’m up, Hwa.”
He steps through, coming closer and you can hear his lopsided smile as he speaks.
“How you feeling, captain?”
“Like I just had a battle with a God-made giant.”
Chuckling, Seonghwa moves closer and crouches down in front of you. The back of his palm gently lands on your forehead and he nods to himself, pulling away.
“Your fever’s gone. Make sure you drink plenty.”
“Hongjoong gave me some water, don’t worry.”
He breaks into a short laugh. “Of course, he hasn’t left your side, so.”
Hongjoong clears his throat at the same time you quietly say ‘he hasn’t?’ wonder in your voice and a tightening in your chest.
It’s that very feeling that has you rushing out ‘you said suppers ready, right?’
A dizzy spell washes over you the moment you rush to sit up, but for the sake of distancing yourself from the odd sensation and the apparent cause of it, you ignore the lightheaded feeling, stumbling so much when you stand that both Seonghwa and Hongjoong spring toward you to support your weak form.
“Take it easy!” You shouldn’t be so surprised that it’s Hongjoong scolding you— not the caring could-be-doctor-Seonghwa— but that hint of care yet again makes your legs start to move with his words abandoned somewhere behind.
“Stop being dramatic— I’m fine.” Wiggling your arms free, a deep breath is all you need to start heading away.
Neither men move with you, only merely watch you weakly walk away until you’ve slipped through the tents curtain.
Outside, the evening chill bristles through the hairs on your arms, like an eel wading through the water, bringing goosebumps to your skin. The centre of the camp has a fire blazing, the burning smell of the wood and the meat being turned over the fire swirls up your nostrils making your stomach growl.
When was the last time I ate?
The crew mill around, some circling the fire and others on random patches of ground with their cloaks slung over their shoulders. The giants are out of sight, which you think odd— though you’re sure Hephaestus has more tricks up his sleeve for any unkind guests— and tending to everyone with pouring of wine and giving of bread are what surely must be nymphs.
Their dresses are glossy under the starlight with flowers woven around their garments and even in their hair. You could see both the men and women alike in awe of their beauty.
If made you want to scoff though. For all their beauty, here they were stuck, under the thumb of a God, serving others.
“Excuse me.” Your hand coils the arm of a passing nymph who looks like she wants to rip your surely filthy hand from her floral scented skin, but also clenches a smile in obligated politeness. “I need to speak with Hephaestus. Can you take me to him?”
“I will first ask if he is available.”
Before you have a chance to reply there is a chorus of yells, mostly of surprise— a name.
Turning, you see a hoard of people entering the camp, a sea of nymphs tending to them, but the chatter is from your own crew, that distinct tone of Meli's voice.
"Manvitha."
The nymph says something to you, but your own surprise consumes you, spurs your steps to the newcomers— Meli and the others simply stare, mouth gaping with the firelight bringing their expressions alight.
And you see it is true — that the person is who they say it is.
She stands before the crowd she came with, long hair in a plait of black silk. Older now, though it is unmistakable that it is her. That her features, roughened by the life she has led, yet a soft mimic of…
"Father…"
Oddeye is shell-shocked behind Meli. You've only just noticed him as he shakily comes to a stand.
How long has it been? Since that day they battled and he let her go?
The reunion moves like the sea; the crowd parts like water splitting and the waves seem to suspend in the air in the moments that chatter dies down and father and daughter properly face each other, hearts quaking behind their ribcage no different to the wailing winds rocking it about.
And then the wave drops— Manvitha rushes forward, letting her sack hit the floor with a rattle, easing around the bodies laying — even past Meli — until she's close enough to throw her arms over the broadness of Oddeyes and pulls him against her.
Still shell-shocked himself, it takes a moment for him to register his little girl physically being before him, let alone hugging him, before his face crumbles with a sigh of sweet joy and his own arms curl around her back, squeezing her to him.
It's like that for a long, long while and it is the scene that Hongjoong and Seonghwa confusedly walk into.
From behind you, Seonghwa asks "what's going on?"
With a small dazed smile you simply tell him "Manvitha's here."
If your eyes had met his, you would see the surprise and the alarm and something that he has hidden deep within himself for a long time.
But you don't see it.
And you don't see that when Manvitha parts from her father with a tear-filled laugh, that when she turns to Meli straight away, and the two linger apart with the small distance, their eyes a bridge that anyone who isn’t a fool could see is made of the stars themselves and they finally embrace, Seonghwa’s eyes shudder as if his insides have been twisted and pulled out.
Even as they part, Meli's hands move to hold her shoulders, scanning her as if she can't believe she is really here, both of their gazes lingering with those stars between them.
"Manvitha." You move forward with a grin that grows when her head whips around.
Behind you, Hongjoong stares, quietly asking Seonghwa "who is that?"
The question is simple, but his answer balls in his throat making it feel clogged up. He swallows. Then takes in a deep shuddering breath. "That's… Oddeye's daughter."
A simple response, but it sounds off. Peeking at Seonghwa's face, Hongjoong frowns. "You okay?"
Whatever it was, Seonghwa brushes it off with a grin. "Yeah. Just been a while since I last saw her. Since any of us have."
"What are you doing here?" Meli breathes out.
Manvitha laughs, now at her father's side, his arm keeping her under his wing. "I should be asking you that."
You grin. "For an adventure of course."
"Where you off to this time?" She laughs.
"The Flannan Isles."
Silence overcomes the camp— your crews chatter dying, Manvitha and those she came with drilling their eyes into you, even the nymphs have stilled in their tasks.
Manvitha’s mouth opens, but she’s interrupted by the arrival of another.
“So my aunts favoured mortal truly is suicidal.”
At Hephateus' arrival the nymphs, Manvitha and her companions all bow their heads in respect immediately and upon exchanging glances with Meli, one by one you and your crew follow.
“God Hephaestus, it’s an honour.”
He seems to glide across the floor, though his legs are stocky, solid Olympian muscle making his entire build. Hair unruly and face and hands covered in soot, he stands before you with his head tilted curiously.
“What do you hope to find in those isles, pirate?”
Meeting his eyes, an impish grin comes over your face. “Who knows, God Hephaestus? Whatever it may be, I want to be the one to find it.”
“Find it you may, live you will not.”
You don’t falter. “That is why I come to you, God Hephaestus. It appears my crew and I will have a better chance with your help.”
“The chest. What does it contain?”
“Adamantian. I have heard that you are always seeking such a rarity. I offer this to you in exchange for your help.”
He shows his Godliness in the form of his cunning smile, eyes dark and swallowing like an abyss. “Seems it would be easier to slaughter you where you stand and just take it.”
Each Nymph, once full of grace, moves from the simple power of his voice to round the backs of those closest to them— of your people— pressing the chilling sharp blade of daggers to their throats.
“But, I must admit that I was rather impressed with the way you handled my giant today. I can see why my aunt has a soft spot for you. Very well, I shall help you.” As soon as those words are said, the nymphs move away in uniform, resheathing their blades so well hidden you hadn’t even noticed they were there. They pick up their baskets and go about as if they weren’t ready to kill your people within a moment's notice. “Come with me.” He turns to a nymph and simply nods his head, facing forward again wordlessly whilst you watch a group of them gather to pick up the chest.
As you both disappear within the shrouding darkness of the forest, the chatter slowly grows again.
“The Flannan Isles, father? Really?”
“What do you know of those isles, impu.”
The word of affection that she feels she has not heard for eternity softens her gaze and her heart. “Who doesn’t know them, father? I’ve heard it is where lost souls go— that they haunt there and wait for fools like you to wander into.”
“Manvitha.”
Her eyes are sharp on Meli’s. “Don’t. You’ve always babied him. And what is y/n thinking— surely they know the dan—”
“They saw the Graeae.”
Much like those mountains, the warmth seems to get swallowed from the air bringing a chilling coolness to crawl up Manvitha’s skin. “I thought… They’d never go back there.”
“As did we.”
“Well see! This just proves my point! If Y/N had to go there just for this, then you shouldn’t be going at all— Father, surely you must agree?”
Oddeye rubs the back of his neck, but there’s no hesitance as he speaks. “We trust the captain and we would die for them.”
“Fools. The lot of you.”
“It’s nice to see you still don’t sugarcoat your words, Mani.”
“Hwa!” Each of his features lights up with a grin, arms open and ready to catch Manvitha when she heavily collides herself against him in a tight hug. It’s so odd how he sinks immediately into her comfort, he almost forgets where he is. But when she pulls away and looks up at him with a smile, that though is bright nonetheless, he feels that painful eruption in his heart when he notes those stars she shares with Meli are missing when she looks upon him. She distracts Seonghwa from that sinking feeling when her eyes peek behind him, at the unfamiliar man lingering. “Who’s that, then?”
Glancing back he simply says, “that’s Hongjoong.” The expectant raised brow makes Seonghwa chuckle. “We found him at sea and now he’s staying with us.”
“Hi.” The awkward wave makes Manvitha blink then snicker until she full on laughs.
“Hello. He’s… not like us is he?” She asks with a tilt of her head. Hongjoong blinks back at her while she scans him head to toe— his vibe alone is enough for her to know he’s not cut from the same cloth— her scrutiny making him shuffle awkwardly.
Meli rolls her eyes, slinging her arm around Manvitha. “Leave Joong alone. He’s been doing well with us— a great student. Right, Oddeye?”
Before the man in question can even input, Manvitha pipes up with a dry “bringing in strays again, father?”
Meli curves her arm in until it's against her throat and she has her in a headlock. “Who’re you calling a stray?” Manvitha responds in kind with a jab of her elbow in Meli’s gut, making her release with a wince. Their closeness never strays, however.
Manvitha grips Meli’s waist and gives her a teasing grin. “Who said I meant you?” Then her eyes are back on Hongjoong. “How’d you end up at sea then? I’d say a soldier abandoning his post but…” there’s that scrutiny again as she tilts her head and scans his body, “that doesn’t seem right. Fisherman caught in a storm then?”
Already, Hongjoong gets the sense that Manvitha is the type to say whatever’s on her mind— with minimal, if any filter.
He knows that his answer will be disappointing too.
“I’m not sure… I don’t remember.”
Her frown proves him right. She’s about to question him some more, but Meli appeases her with some more interesting information that they haven’t felt to voice until now.
“Hecate guided him to us. He’s a demigod.”
“Demigod? What God is your parent? One of the big three? Why do you stay here and not on Olympus? Are they not aware that you wer—”
“ —Come now, Manvitha. Leave the boy alone. We’ve had a long journey. Let us all eat now.”
Most of the crew has already started to feast. The nymphs have been pouring bowls of stew and offering water and wine and rolls of bread.
Once having got their own food, they all sit around the fire. Manvitha tells them how they were cornered by Greek soldiers and barely made it out— they took heavy losses, including their own Captain, drifting for days on their damaged ship before they landed on Clop Island. They thought they were goners when Giants arrived, but Hephaestus had told them to invite them in. And now they work for him.
“In exchange he gives us food and shelter. It’s not a bad life.”
“But don’t you miss it?” Seonghwa asks. “Didn’t you leave because you wanted to make your own adventures?” Hongjoong peers at Seonghwa whose eyes are boring into Manvitha with something he can’t quite pinpoint. There’s been something tense about him ever since he saw her again.
She doesn’t notice. Only offering a shrug as she spoons more food into her mouth. “I think… Seeing so much death… Made me rethink things. There is still that risk doing our work for Hephaestus, but there is also… security… I know that I will never have the life I want if I were to settle down somewhere. Women without money or status… well you know. Can you see me tending to a farm or some shit?” That makes the group laugh, Oddeye shaking his head with a fond smile. “But there have been times when we’ve run into trouble and I’ve felt that rush, you know? So I guess, yea, I do miss it.”
“You should just come back with us.” Meli blurts out. She tries to sound casual about it, keeping her gaze downcast at her bowl, but there’s something like hope in her voice.
If Manvitha notices she doesn’t mention it, only offering a snort. “Maybe… if y/n ever hangs up her pirate's life.”
That has everyone, but Hongjoong chortling. He frowns, turning to Seonghwa and softly asks “why’s that so funny?”
“I’m guessing you don’t know much about y/n, do you Hongjoong?” Of course he can barely open his mouth before Manvitha continues to speak. “When y/n left home they… didn’t have anywhere to go. And then they ended up on a ship— on another pirate’s ship. At first they were just a deckhand but the captain soon saw their talents and they rose up in the ranks. Except… it wasn't as easy as that. He liked to control them. Treat them like a slave. Something disposable. He was a shitty captain but he was worse to y/n. And one day y/n stood up to him. He dragged them to the decks and—”
“The gist is that after that everything changed. Seonghwa had to tend to the captain for days and the crew— none of us thought what he did was right. There was a mutiny and long story short, we voted y/n captain.” Meli’s words were clipped, devoid of emotion— clearly the memory is one she’d rather forget.
Hongjoong was able to put two and two together and he felt an unearthly swell of rage consume him from the inside out. He’s sure if he wasn’t dead already, he would kill the person who dared to harm you.
“Whatever that piece of shit may have done to y/n, it never changed the fact that they fell in love with being a pirate. It’s where they belong.” Manvitha tells him.
Silence overcame the small group and it was after a long while that Oddeye cleared his throat.
"Think it's time we get some shut eye."
—
The stay on Clop Island had been a mere four days. In that time you were a rare sight to see.
And when it was time to leave, you were all too eager to get your crew back on the waters.
With each sunrise and each moon high speaking of how much time has passed you, you find your irritation growing. It seems like this entire journey has been more of a load of detours than getting to your actual destination, and you’re starting to blame someone.
“How much longer?” You question Meli, steps full of your angst when you approach her at the helm.
Her laughter cuts off, turning away from Oddeye to regard you. She can sense your impatience, but doesn’t comment on it. “I predict half a full moon's cycle, Captain.” You huff, turning away from her with a nod and make your way back to your quarters where you’ve mostly been holing yourself up in.
Yet, you are intercepted. By the very cause of your irritation.
“Are you—”
“I haven’t the time.” You dismiss, moving around him as he mumbles 'okay?' watching you head further down the deck. A frown grows on his face and without hesitation he hurries after you, fingers curling around your upper arm ceasing your steps. The feeling of fire grows wild across your expression, filling your eyes with its inferno as you look at Hongjoong and rip your arm away. “What do you think you’re doing?” You hiss between clenched teeth.
He seems taken aback, straightening up as he lets his arm slap down against his side. “I wanted to see if you're okay if you stopped for two damn seconds.” Your irritation seems contagious because it fills his usually soft voice in a way that bites at you. And then he steps closer, the flames in your eyes reaching out to incinerate the colour in his. “What’s your damn problem, hm?” This darker more menacing tone needle pricks at your heart sending you rigid; he has an effect that you can’t decide is Godly, or just him on you, one that orders every nerve ending to be receptive of him alone, that commands your body to still near him as if you’re under a spell.
Maybe sirens aren’t only female and Hongjoong is one, because you very much feel like a call has penetrated your brain and driven away your will.
Especially when your voice comes out as a timid whisper. “Nothing.”
The only thing worse than his closeness and his voice is him touching you. The ridges of his fingers are embedded with hot embers that paint your skin in its heat when they brush your cheeks until he’s cupping you gently between his palms.
The sea is storming inside your chest.
The only response you can give is the widening of your eyes, because ice travels your bloodstream, rendering your insides frozen to your bones, a statue that can’t will yourself to slap his hands away the way you want to— well, the way you think you want to.
Being held this way, so tenderly, as if you were someone fragile and deserving of being handled as such makes you feel queasy and yet you can’t stop it— can’t stop the way your body welcomes him and his touch, can’t stop the way he contradicts the iciness of your insides to make you feel as if lava-hot rivers run through you instead.
It’s only when he starts to move closer, eyes diving into the depths of yours that something in your brain jumpstarts the rest of your body and before you know it you’re swinging your head forward, colliding with Hongjoong’s forehead making it snap back in a way you’re sure has given him whiplash too. A cry falls away with the motion and when his head rebounds forward his eyes are wide and startled. A maggot called guilt eats your heart from the inside out but you square out your shoulders and give him the coldest stare you can muster before turning sharply without uttering another word to him.
He doesn’t try to stop you this time.
—
It’s not until three days later that you cross paths again.
Something you’ve done as long as you could remember is stand by the sea, close your eyes and just listen. When you were younger you’d pretend she was talking to you, that the rifts in the water was her dancing for you, that the whistle along its surface was her hello.
Now, you know better. But you still find comfort to simply listen, to sharpen your ears to take it all in.
That’s why it’s so easy to hear the dull thuds of his steps even above the slap of water falling back down. Unwanted tingles spore along your back at the mere anticipation of his closeness— though you don’t know why you’re feeling anticipation when you’d rather he be anywhere but near you.
Still, you don’t move when he eventually leans against the railing, placing himself at your side.
At your side. God’s help you.
A music box of the ocean sounds plays between you both, sparking the calm atmosphere in something that bordered on magic with him close to you like this.
“Are we going to talk then?”
You sigh. Magic over.
“About what?” Your eyes slowly open and though you can feel his eyes and see the way his gaze settles on you in your peripheral vision, you allow yourself to glance up at the navy sea of the sky.
Hongjoong scoffs at that, finally taking his eyes off of you to look down into the waters, pressing his nails into each other. “Well… what happened the other day for one.”
Taking a deep breath, you supply him with an excuse, because you don’t want to face the actual reason, especially with the words of your caretakers echoing in your head. “I just value my personal space.”
He nods numbly, still staring at the lapping water. “Fair enough, but… I don’t think that’s it. You’ve been weird ever since we visited the Graeae.”
Instantly, water fills your lungs and a storm brews in your head, striking your nerves with lightning and you push away from the railing and make to leave. But of course he moves into your path, blocking you from leaving. Though, he’s mindful not to touch you this time at the very least.
“What did they say? Why are you suddenly so cold with me? ....Or did I do something…” His eyes flutter as he mumbles that and even in the dark you can see the way the light in his eyes dims and you detest how much that makes your heart feel like it's rupturing, a pain you didn’t think possible to experience, nor one you want when it concerns him. “Tell me so I can fix it.” He says hastily and again, you never thought that the pain would be able to increase tenfold, but it does.
Hate poisons your system— for yourself, for him, because you hate that you’re making him question himself and you hate him for making you feel this way in the first place, hate that you believe you have conquered the sea but now you feel like it’s drowning you, and you have no idea how to deal with that.
So you give him your rage instead of the comfort you feel you desperately want to instead. “There’s nothing to fucking fix. This is me. This is who I am. A monster thrown away at sea.” You feel like you’re swallowing acid, it only erodes, erodes and leaves the disfigured skin hanging from your jaw baring the darkness you harbour.
He’s quiet. Eyeing you closely; the way your chest heaves, the disturbance in your eyes under the stars, jaw clenched so tight it makes your lips quiver with your rage.
Softly, he asks, “you love the Graeae, do you not?”
The question has you pausing. The thoughts and feelings congesting you slow to instead stare incredulously at him. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“Do you, or do you not? You must do. Even though you left, it must’ve been painful to do so.”
How does he manage to make you feel like you’re made of clear glass that he can look into and see everything?
“If you know then why bloody ask?”
He steps closer and the move has you holding your breath. “Because,” he drawls, “some consider them monsters and yet they have your love. So what if you’re a monster? Does that mean you don’t deserve my…” He swallows, “deserve my concern?”
Though he is still mindful not to touch you, his proximity still makes you feel dizzy, his words a breath to hold within your lungs until the lack of air will have you desperately seeking it. The tides carry away the seconds, stretching it into minutes beyond the horizon, all the while his question drips like sap landing on your tongue, its thickness clogging up your throat.
Finally, you choke out a whisper. "I do not.
—
The sun breaks through the dark clouds, its light directly penetrating your orbs and seeming to bleed into your brain; its brightness shrivels the organ tight, tight, tighter, until your skull feels like it will collapse. Gritting your teeth, a heavy breath struggles past your lips just as you struggle to steer against the rough tides, putting your entire strength into making the ship turn, and when you do the sun cowers behind the mournful heavens above, the pressure in your head disappearing as the ship rocks over the water and slams down heavily creating a splash, the cold sprays sobering your dazed head.
“Are you okay?” Meli asks, concern etched in her features.
Each blink brings a feeling of sawdust trapped behind your lids, the last spells of dizziness leaving you along with the ear-against-a-shell sound fading. “I don’t know.” You mutter. “Think the journey took a bit out of me.”
Her palm is warm on your shoulder, warmth carried in its heart that resonates through your body leaving waves of comfort and familiarity. “Go rest, friend. I’ll keep us on course.” You haven’t the strength to refuse, legs suddenly feeling boneless, so you merely nod, whispering a thank you through cracked lips and make your way to your cabin.
That pressure in your head returns, one that feels as if your skull is splintering into your brain and you all but collapse onto your bed once you reach it.
With your eyes closed, you feel intoxicated, everything swimming around you even if you lay still, the motion of the ship and the sound of water drowning you in discomfort. Another breath struggles through your windpipe, a mere huff in the air, your lungs weighing down on you as if you were at the bottom of the ocean being crushed by its merciless body. Overcome with the sensation, tossing and turning, you don’t hear the footsteps approaching your bed. Nor the dull sound of something being placed on your bedside table.
“Oddeye sent me down with some chai, what is wrong?”
You hear that voice very clearly. It’s a song you can’t lose, a song that refuses to be lost and will only replay over and over in your mind. He sounds concerned, but doesn’t he always? It irritates you, that his nature be so soft compared to yours, yet you can’t help but melt into it. Words can’t find you when the pain in your head swims up your nerve endings and deems you nonfunctional. The bed sinks under his weight and amidst the sea of pain sinking you to hostile depths, you feel a hand reach out and start to bring you to the surface again.
There’s a touch of saintly song in his skin when his palm lays on the side of your face. You hear him hiss and the bed lift when he stands suddenly.
“You’re burning up. Hold on.”
There’s no chance of reply, he rushes off too fast anyway, his feet hastily carrying him to your personal washroom. There’s a jug of probably staling water, but he grabs it anyway, seeking out a cloth before returning to your side. His knees dig into the surface of your bed, his body heat washing over your searing hot body, except his heat feels as if the yellow of the sun materialised within its rays and wrapped around you. A sigh leaves your lips and without thought your body shifts closer to him. Lips dry and parched, his tongue runs over them as if it would soothe the desert you’ve left him in, as if it would ease the cracks waiting to be rejuvenated by you. The flannel is swirled in the water and the excess drips when he pulls his hand above the surface and wrings it out. You feel the coolness press to your forehead and manage a hum. Inside your body, there is a war like Gaia has erupted into a volcano, her molten lava and spitballs of fire engulfing everything in its path— a warning to run, run, run — and Uranus has decided to rain down on her to douse that inferno— a response that clearly does not heed her warning, the cool of the flannel battling it out with the fever poisoning your system.
When he moves, you groan, forehead creasing in disagreement, thinking he’s leaving you. But you hear the jug get placed on the bedside table and then he sidles up closer to your body, his hand cupping your face with those heaven-crafted eyes focusing on your face. The mere contact of his skin on yours seems to subdue some of the pain curdling your blood and aching your muscles and organs, bringing only enough strength for you to lay your hand over his and press him into your skin, as if to imprint the shape of it onto your flesh.
“Sing to me.” You mumble in a weak voice.
A flutter of air parts his lips and then it’s magic, his voice spilling like the euphoria of a cracked coconut between begging lips, caressing your insides with the tender touch of a lover tiptoeing sweet nothings up to an ear under the moonlight, each soft utter overwhelming like flora in a meadow, driving the pain into submission until finally his voice kisses the forehead of your conscious and sends her to rest.
Hongjoong notices your breathing even out, feels your skin burn away into a subtle warmth and breathes a sigh of relief. He hopes that with some sleep the sudden fever will totally disappear. There’s a tug on his heart when he starts to pull away, the act of separation, though not far, voices its displeasure within his chest.
And yet, he does it anyway.
Slowly he rises from the bed, standing over you to watch your sleeping figure for a moment longer. But soon his attention is pulled to the hasty steps coming down the steps.
“How is she?” It’s Seonghwa. There’s a hint of urgency in his voice and an anxious expression on his face dripping wet.
“I managed to get her to sleep. She was burning up.” Seonghwa approaches with heavy steps, looking down at you and Hongjoong notices the way his chest heaves as if he had been rushing. “Is something wrong?”
His eyes sharply move onto Hongjoong. “It’s the women. They’re all with a fever. Like the Captain.”
Hongjoong blinks in confusion. “All of them?”
Seonghwa nods solemnly. “Meli had to step away a mere thirty drops ago— then Oddeye took over, the winds became rougher, the sails taking a mind of their own and dragged us out into unknown waters. The skies are too murky to tell where we are— rain and Poseidon's rage are swallowing us and the compass turns with the tides. And now the women have begun to fall with this mysterious fever one by one. And now we can’t even ask our Captain what to do.”
Hongjoong’s eyes stray back to your face. “What would she do?” He asks in a mumble.
Air shoots through Seonghwa’s nostrils with his short laugh. “Something crazy.”
With a roll of his eyes, Hongjoong goes to complain about how true that statement is, when the ship suddenly sways and they both topple over into the bed. They hear yells above deck and the ship sways heavily again, the structure yawning from the sudden turn— except it’s not just a turn, it feels as if the whole ship is tilting.
Seonghwa and Hongjoong exchange looks, glancing at you to see you’re still deep in slumber. “I’ll go above deck. You look after her.” Seonghwa grunts, straining himself to keep upright as he moves across your room back to the steps. It’s a struggle, the boat continuing to tilt at such a degree books and ornaments fall from the shelves, a clay vase breaking on the floor.
It feels as if the whole ship will go over.
The whole time you stay still, almost at peace. Even he nearly forgets that something is very obviously wrong.
Especially when, just like that, the floors level out again, everything settling and for a moment everything seems strangely still and silent — even the sea has quietened down.
Chills crawl up his spine. The very air appeared nonexistent.
It makes him anxious.
Fuck.
He topples over when the ship comes to an abrupt halt. Painting on the floor, he listens out and again there's that eerie silence.
But then it comes.
The screams.
The men's voices come out as bellows, roars like those at work but then they become piercing, ghouly screeches that grate Hongjoong's ears. The sound of swords being unsheathed, of feet trampling the decks and then the crashes and thuds— bodies and the ship slowly going to ruins.
His mother's voice drifts into his mind, that calming mantra and it spurs him to his feet.
The entirety of the ship quakes and slows him on the steps up to the decks. Slamming against the sides, he grunts and falls to his hands, using his palms to help push him up the steps.
When the air hits him he feels like he's standing beneath Mount Olympus watching it erupt with the titans.
Part of the railings flame, ash swarming the air.
And as if he really is witnessing war, he sees the men, expressions twisted with fire and courage and strength and the glint of their swords.
But then he sees the enemy.
Mermaids.
One arches from the water over the boat, hair a twist of tentacles that lashes out as it dives over to the other side and before it hits the water, those tentacles wrap around the throats of one of the men— Pelops, a boy really, who's face showed his youth— gets dragged along the deck floors, tentacles tightening to the extent his eyes start to bulge, fingers desperately clawing at the thick appendage. Three—four men turn and desperately swing with all their strength at its morbid flesh— but it's no use. No mere mortal blade can pierce.
Pelops starts to lose air, the men stuck between hanging onto him and tearing at the beast. His legs flail, shaking as the suffocation becomes too much, hands losing their strength and Hongjoong tries to think of all the stories his mother told him about the monsters that lurk in Poseidon's kingdom.
And there her voice comes. That soft lull in his ear painting stories in his head.
So, his mouth falls open. Amongst the screams of terror, amongst the chaos of battling feet, amongst the desperate fight for survival, Hongjoong opens his mouth and he sings.
His voice alone halts every sound, ceases all movement for but a moment, until the mermaids wail— a piercing unearthly screech that has them flailing in the water until his voice seems to reach deep within and they still. Completely.
Their bodies slack and eyes stare up to the ship almost hypnotised— the mermaid who had her tentacles wrapped around Pelop's throat weakens and slides from around him, falling slack into the water with a splash.
The men breath heavily, anxiously, backing up into each other with eyes darting all around them.
When Hongjoong finishes his song, he merely looks on at the mystified creatures, his own eyes glowing like stars of emeralds.
"Go."
Powerful sprays hit over the sides when they dive back into the depths from whence they came.
And once they are gone, the Godly surge lighting his eyes fades and all that remains ate the trembles in his body.
"We need to go. Who did we lose?"
"About half the men. All the women are still below deck asleep. These things— they came out of nowhere. The water...suddenly still. Quiet. Then they came… we had no chance." Būlus whispers mournfully. Tears welling in his eyes when he looks away from Hongjoong.
"It makes sense. The women. They don't hurt women." The tremors hit his voice and he swallows hard. "Oddeye. Where is he? Or Seonghwa?"
"Seonghwa took some of the wounded below deck during that chaos. Oddeye… I haven't seen him."
The dread increases tenfold and Hongjoong barely registers the men talking about the damage before he's turning away.
Every movement appears before him in slow motion. Blood being scrubbed in a withdrawn push and pull. Amphoras being passed around with haunted eyes. Boneless strolls to clear the deck.
Hongjoong is sure this is a day no one is likely to forget.
His own energy seems depleted. Even more so than the days you had first found him adrift. That time seems so long ago — and it has been — but at the same time the man he has become… after you, seems to have come about so quick it makes his head spin.
He wonders if his mother would be proud of him. Of all he has been able to face and all he has seen and learnt. He knows his mother would take a liking to Seonghwa, would dote on him. She would share plenty of laughter with Oddeye and maybe even scold him for making her precious son work, but it would all be in good humour.
He thinks that she would love you. That for all the hard exterior you try to put on, she would easily spot the warm soul you hold within.
Though he is anxious to find Oddeye, he is even more anxious to check on you. Even though he tries to rationalise that he knows you and the other women are safe asleep — or under the mermaid's enchantments — he still longs painfully so to be by your side, so he can see with his own eyes your health return.
As he passes one of the doors leading below deck, it pushes open and there stands Seonghwa. He looks as worn and as wrecked as the ship. Skin paling and eyes distraught. Blood mars the hands he works to keep neat and tidy, a personal principle he follows as the crew's only doctor.
Hongjoong recognises the invisible wound Seonghwa has. Pain.
Without thinking Hongjoong draws closer until he is able to wind his arms as securely as possible around Seonghwa. The man tenses, clearly startled, but the longer Hongjoong remains embracing him, the more Seonghwa’s body gives in to the comfort. His face falls against Hongjoong’s shoulder and hugs him back, heart that had become twisted the longer he tried and failed to save those who he considers family slowly unwinding.
The ache now is a little more bearable.
Pulling away, Seonghwa quickly wipes at his eyes. “Thank you.” He says quietly.
“Of course.” The silence lingers between them, the reality weighing on them. “Hwa… Have you seen Oddeye?”
His face becomes even more grave if possible. “No. When I left you… it all happened so fast, we didn’t stand a chance.” Hongjoong nods, gnawing at his lip in anxiety. “I don’t understand… getting dragged off course like that… I’ve heard of mermaids attacking ships, but never for no reason. If they feel their territory is being threatened or something maybe. I didn’t think they’d come this far out either.”
Hongjoong frowns. “That’s true… They aren’t usually in the middle of nowhere.”
“At least it’s over. Why did they leave anyway?”
Sheepishly Hongjoong scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, something my mother told me about them came to mind.”
“Well I owe you all my lifetime’s, friend. You saved many. Including me.”
“You saved me first so consider us even.”
They’re able to at least laugh at that.
“Let’s find Oddeye.”
Oddeye is nowhere to be found by the time the last light starts to fade. By now the deck is some sort of semblance of what it once was. A strong man of bronze by the name Athis had helped Seonghwa to gather and wrap the bodies— Seonghwa told Hongjoong that Athis was probably the only religious man amongst the crew — him and his brother — whom he helped Seonghwa to wrap. They agreed that once the you and women were awake they would complete the funeral rites.
Hongjoong thinks that despite all the stories he has heard, those both dangerous and those full of pure adventure, that now they all need prayer.
At the helm taking charge of redirecting the ship and finding the path is Porus. A quiet man, his beard and sun-browned skin reminded Hongjoong of Oddeye. In all his time here, they must have exchanged five words at most, but he is said to be one of their wisest and deadliest— a soldier who had been captured by the Greeks and made a slave and quietly learnt their language and secrets before escaping, he bargained his way onto the ship with knowledge of treasure. Apparently you had taken a liking to him rather quickly, which was a rare occurrence.
With you and the women still in slumber and Oddeye missing, the crew have placed their trust in him to lead the way. Though Hongjoong is unsure of where they should be going now.
Surely you won’t want to continue after such a great loss? Surely you should see that your suicide mission is not worth it?
Leaning against the rails, Hongjoong inhales deeply and allows his eyes to close as his head falls back. He thinks back to that night, not long after departing from Clop Island, where he spoke to you right here. The pain in your eyes that he could see even with your guard coming up. Your sharp tongue meant to strike like a blade only hitting his foolish heart with the softness of a lone floating petal falling against his skin.
He worries that you still haven’t woken, even though Seonghwa has assured him that you are fine. You sleep so still that Hongjoong’s eyes have tricked him into believing your breath has gone and you’ve left the shell of you behind for him to grieve. A madness has struck him, one filled with his own rage and pain and grief— for the men, but for Oddeye. Seonghwa has tried to stay strong. To keep up with his own duties, but he knows it has taken its toll. And still he reminded Hongjoong with a soft smile to get some rest. Hongjoong dreads to think how you will react with the news… The man he knows you have come to view as a father now lost at sea and he knows you will blame yourself. Think that you falling under an enchantment would be some kind of weakness on your part.
Pushing away from the rail, Hongjoong goes to turn away, but suddenly stops. Far in the distance, under the moonlight, he can see something. He squints, trying to recognise what it could be. It floats atop the water, large — burly — and when it moves sluggishly, Hongjoong’s eyes widen.
“Porus!” he calls urgently, heading toward the helm. “I think there’s someone out there.”
The man merely gives him a look, one that seems to penetrate Hongjoong’s eyes as if to seek all his secrets.
“Look! Over there! I saw them move!” He can see the doubt in the fine lines of his forehead. “You found me in the middle of nowhere— someone’s out there, we should help.”
The man is quiet for a while, but wordlessly he starts to turn the steer toward the floating figure. Hongjoong leans against the side, calling out, though they are still too far for them to hear. He doesn’t know why there’s an urgency in his chest, one that makes him start biting his nails.
“What’s going on?” Seonghwa appears beside Hongjoong, brows pinching together looking in the direction Hongjoong’s focused on.
“I think there’s someone out there. I swear I saw them move.”
“Who would be all the way out here? And alive?”
“I managed.”
“Oh goodie, another demi-god.”
Hongjoong scoffs. “In that case, we’ll leave them.”
That has Seonghwa breaking out into a hearty laugh. “I think you’ve been hanging around the Captain too much— that’s cold.”
Hongjoong only grins in response.
His expression grows serious the closer he gets and by now, more of the crew have gathered at the rails, looking out at the unknown figure floating in the ocean. They start calling out, but this time whatever’s out there doesn't move an inch. Hongjoong isn’t even sure if they’re breathing— even sure if it is a person. The men stretch their arms over the sides with lit wooden torches. The flames glow on the sea's surface, pooling out its light. The sail ripples with the light breeze and soon they start to slow.
“Well? What is it?”
“Should we pull it in?”
“It’s not moving— OI!”
Seonghwa’s eyes drift to Porus over the calls. “What do you think?” Porus is quiet, simply crossing his worn hand over the other and leaning against the wheel. Finally he nods his head. “Come on then, let's bring it in.”
It takes time and effort for the men to form a contraption long enough to get a hold of the object, grunts and curses pushed through gritted teeth, until they eventually give up.
“Shall we send a rowboat? This is useless.”
Hongjoong has to agree. This is useless.
“Okay, you three go.”
The crowd parts for the three men, watching them depart onto the rowboat, then steadily get lowered into the water. Their oars move swiftly through the waters, growing farther from the ship and closer to the mystery at sea.
“What is it?” Someone shouts to them.
They grunt, balancing on the boat as they move and try to use the oar to reach out. It looks like a piece of wreckage suddenly came up, slimy seaweed piled atop.
“Rubbish.” They yell back.
They move the torch over the pile, squinting their eyes, ultimately deciding to just head back. The boat rocks a little unsteadily as they move back to take their seats. Just as their hands curl into a grip around the wood of the oars, they hear a noise.
It makes them freeze. The hackles of their backs rising, that sense of doom still instilled in them since the attack.
Now that they are still, the noise that comes after a few seconds of silence is clear — a groan — a sound that is very human.
Hastily, they draw the boat closer and use the oar to reach over and bring the wreckage closer, Expressions twist into grimaces when their bare hands pull apart the wet and sticky heaps of seaweed and—
“Oddeye! It’s Oddeye!” Laughs of disbelief echo in the vastness, the happiness so pure and filling that they embrace one another in hopeful hugs.
The men on the ship squint their eyes and shout, asking what’s going on. But there’s no hope of them being heard over the trio's own roars of celebration. Eventually, they watch them move on the small boat and reach out for the floating wreckage. Each of them holds their breath, wondering what it is they’ve found, unable to properly see out in the darkness, even with their lit torches glowing bright.
It’s some time before they start rowing back. Each minute that ticks by weighs down, knots their muscles in tenseness. When the boat is close enough, the flames bare their grins and their hollers are much clearer.
“Oi! Hwa, we’re gonna need you.”
They move back and none of the men aboard the ship can believe their eyes. Immediately they’re all calling out his name— Oddeye! Oddeye!
All that somberness seems to dissipate for the mere reason that the man they were certain would be on route to the underworld by now is alive and mostly well.
“Quick, pull us up.!” They collectively work the ropes, the strength they’ve all been depleted of suddenly rejuvenated as they start to pull and pull, bringing the boat higher and higher up the side. It takes five of the men to help pull Oddeye onto the deck, carefully letting his body slump against the cold wood. As soon as Seonghwa’s at his side, they back away to give him space. Everyone watches closely, tentativeness filling their eyes.
“We gotta move him — help me.”
“Will he be okay?”
“I… don’t know. Someone get water and someone go set up a bed, get blankets and bring my stuff. You lot help me move him.”
The joy is brief; feet rush around the deck and just like that, the brief joy and relief has been swallowed and that anxiety has reared its ugly head.
Porus is silent at the helm, redirecting the ship and Hongjoong is left standing there with a dry mouth feeling lost.
There’s an ache in his chest that he hasn’t really taken the time to process since the heavy loss— one that grew when he thought Oddeye dead.
With no conscious thought, he finds himself moving. That urge for comfort brings him to the doors of your chambers. Just knowing the fact that you’re beyond the doors is enough to have his skin buzzing with warmth.
And when he pushes the doors open and moves down the steps and sees you still laying there peacefully, it’s as if he’s taking a breath for the first time.
He finds himself kneeling at your side and if anyone were to look in, they would not find an ounce of the Godliness in him, because Hongjoong looks about ready to worship you. Those brown eyes of his shine adoration usually bestowed upon divinity, fingers reaching and hesitating like a mortal remembering its palace at the feet of a God — only look but don’t touch.
But he needs to feel the saint of you kiss his skin.
The pads of his fingers brush the loose tendrils of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear with care. They move to trace across your cheek, over the arch of your nose to your other cheek, dragging his finger down to your jaw. When he’s done, he settles for grasping your hand in his.
He sighs in content, eyes slipping shut and head falling to rest on your bed. “Wake soon please, my love.”
And before he can register what he called you, sleep overcomes his heavy and tired self.
—
The abyss of darkness you find yourself in is strangely comforting. One would expect that fear would manifest in the sinews of your being, yet something mellow and song-like soothed each joint and muscle to relaxation as you float in this nothingness.
A song surrounds you, lulling you peacefully. It should be eerie, the way it fills the vastness you seem to be in. An ethereal harmony making you feel like you’re ascending.
The voice soon changes. To one familiar to you. It has your heart reviving from its dormant state into a whirlwind that sends pressure through the valves and the muscle, making it strain and beat so madly you don’t spot that first breakthrough of light in your abyss, don’t notice the bubbling in your ear as if you’re finally taking a breath only to find water filling your lungs.
You don’t notice until the voice seems to drag you to the surface where that light has broken through.
The feeling of waking up is odd. Your eyes move behind your lids, like you’re dreaming. In your ears is that familiar sound of the open ocean and the birds whistling under the Greek sun. Like many times when you’re about to awaken from your slumber, there’s a heaviness in your limbs that takes its time to go as your muscles start to awaken. You feel the need to stretch, groaning softly as your legs reach out and your arms pull out at your sides.
When you slump back into your relaxed state, you start to rub at your eyes, squeezing them shut until finally you start to slowly blink them open. The blur clears after a few more blinks and groggily your eyes look upon the dimness of your quarters ceiling. Breathing slowly and allowing your mind to fully awaken, you simply lay there for several moments longer.
When some coherency returns, fragments of your last conscious memories appear— the journey you and your crew set upon and the moments of your anxiety to reach its end until finally the moment a sickness befell you. You recall Hongjoong’s concern— him being in your chambers— and the way he treated you with fragility as he took care of you…
Lo and behold when your head turns you find him there as if he had never left you. He kneels on the floor, which you know must surely be uncomfortable, with his head resting over his folded arms.
The sight of him makes you swallow harshly. Tendrils of his hair fall across his sun-kissed skin. His lips are parted the slightest, back rising and falling steadily with each inhale, exhale. His lashes cast shadows beneath his eyes, empathising the beauty of them, even closed.
You’re not sure what compels you, but the memory of his voice bringing you into the light from that abyss just before you woke up sounds in your head again and has your hand reaching out. The pads of your fingers find themselves pushing through the soft strands of black, cushioning themselves against his scalp rhythmically like the tide gently pushing and pulling from the shore.
What you’re doing registers belatedly, making your hand reel away from his hair. But as you pull away, you find your motions stopped by the burning coil of his fingers reaching up to grip your wrist.
Then those brown eyes are piercing your own.
Now you can see the bags darkening and sagging on his skin, the veins making his eyes look bloodshot. He looks as if he has been to hell and back.
But the moment he sees you are awake, you watch the way light fills the muddied brown, bringing forth a golden constellation. He says nothing. Merely breaths a heavy sigh, as if relieved, and then presses your palm against his cheek and allows his eyes to slip shut.
It startles you, but not as much as it should. Doesn’t have you recoiling like you should. Instead you watch him and allow your palm to mould the shape of him.
Finally though, you clear your dry and scratchy throat and manage to ask “how long have I been out?” His eyes open and he merely stares at you, not making any move to reply. “Are we still on course? Are we close now?”
He lets your palm slide from his face, but you note that he keeps his hand pressed against yours.
“We’re heading back to Clop Island, because the ship needs repairs.”
“What?!” You wince as soon as you try to sit up, groaning against the stiffness of your back.
Immediately Hongjoong smooths his hand over your shoulders and ushers you to lay down. “Take it easy.” He scolds softly. Before you can question him further, he stands and disappears in your personal storeroom, reappearing with a jug and a cup. You watch him fill it and place the jug on your bedside table and take a seat beside you in silence. He doesn’t say another word either, only prompts you with a gentle hand behind your head to meet the cup he brings to your lips. He makes sure you finish it to the last drop, lowering your head with his hand back onto the pillows.
“Would you like some more?” You only shake your head no, staring after him and wondering why, despite the havoc your hearts wrecking inside your chest, why you haven’t dismissed him. He nods, placing the empty cup beside the jug.
Silence falls over you both. You’re so curious and concerned, but you can’t voice any of it because your eyes are stuck on the tenseness held within his shoulders.
He looks upon your face again, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face and just as his lips part, the doors to your chambers noisily push open.
His fingers recoil into a fist and he draws his hand away from you, turning toward the feet clambering down the steps.
“They’re awake.”
You frown behind Hongjoong’s body, shielding you away from the person you recognise as Seonghwa.
Who’s awake? What does he mean? What’s going on?
Hongjoong moves aside and Seonghwa’s gaze falls upon you.
“As are they.”
—
All this time, you’ve been focused on one thing. On one selfish thing. And that’s the chance for adventure, everything else be damned.
Everyone else be damned.
That loyalty — that blind loyalty — your crew hold to you seems entirely pointless as your eyes move over the wrapped bodies of your men. Of those whose bodies they had managed to hold onto at least.
Some of them looked much too small and sickness wells in your stomach thinking of your younger members succumbing to such a fate.
We’d die for you.
At the time, words that encouraged you, that spurred the wildness in you to seek the extremes, to go so far that it might have even meant your end, now taste bitter. Poisonous.
It’s not like you’ve never been in such perilous situations before. But, this is something else. These feel like pointless deaths for a pointless quest and it’s all because of you.
Your bowed head finally lifts, your silent prayer over. Your gaze lingers one last time over your men and then you turn and leave.
Hongjoong and Seonghwa follow quietly behind you. It took much of your impatient questioning while Seonghwa examined you before they finally revealed to you what happened while you were knocked out. Never in your life had you felt this useless and this much self-loathing and that’s something you’ve felt often before. You don’t think you truly processed the extent of your grief, that you really believed it to be true until your eyes witnessed the grave your ship has become for yourself.
Onto the next room, you pause with bated breath. The hesitance shows within every inch of you; tremors make you close your hands into fists and the sudden lightheadedness makes you squeeze your eyes shut. Hongjoong instinctively moves closer, waiting for the moment you pass out to catch you.
But you don’t. Taking a deep breath, your eyes reopen and you push the door open before cowardice can settle in.
There lies Oddeye.
Your feet only go as far as the threshold once you see him. No thoughts or feelings come to mind immediately as you stare after him with wide eyes. He looks so still… skin ashen and devoid of the life he usually holds… It’s as if… He’s dead.
Invisible chains wind around your ankles and root you in place as the thought repeats itself over and over in your head.
Dead dead dead dead.
A shudder runs through you and your breath comes out choked. Slowly, you move closer and closer until you’re standing over him. Your face contorts into one of pain as your hand reaches out and when you cup his bearded face that connection ignites your nerves, leaving them splayed to be stabbed violently at until tears well in your eyes. The tears flood like Poseidon sending a tidal wave to destroy a city and you’re the fragile structure brought down, your body falling over him as you hold him in grievance.
There’s still warmth to him and that fatherly scent and you cling even tighter, begging the Gods to keep him safe and if anything, to take you instead.
It’s some time before your tears cease and even longer still when you part from Oddeye. You say nothing when you wipe your face and turn away from him.
“I’m going to speak with Porus.” Don’t follow me is what you don’t say, but the two men understand nonetheless.
You leave them in silence.
They both release breaths they didn’t realise they’d been holding once you’re gone.
“I’ve… never seen them cry before.” Hongjoong’s the first to speak. Voice hollow and cracked. He doesn’t want to leave you be, even if those are your wishes. All he is thinking is that if he feels like the fabric of his soul is stained in turmoil and his heart is breaking just from seeing you cry, then he can’t even begin to imagine or understand the extent of pain you’re feeling right now. He swallows hard and blinks away his own tears, inhaling deeply through his nose.
“It’s a rare occurrence. In all the years I’ve known y/n I’ve only seen them cry a handful of times.” Seonghwa debates his next words, but decides that now is a time best as any for him to say it. Turning, he looks Hongjoong directly in his eyes. “They’re going to need you now more than ever. But y/n won’t admit that. So go at their pace. But please… just… be there for them.”
He tries and fails to hide his surprise. But still, he nods. “I will.”
—
Porus is at the helm drinking from his amphora and you suspect that it’s not water in there. As you near you’re hit with that familiar waft of rum.
As soon as he notices you approaching he holds it out, lips curling into a barely there smile when you take it without hesitance. You gulp the liquor down like it's your lifeline, the burn exactly what you need and when you’ve had your fill you gasp satisfied.
“Thanks.” Porus nods in response. “How far are we?”
“Least a week.”
“Is there nowhere else?”
Porus moves to the table and points at the map. “There’s these isles, but there’s no telling what lies there.”
“If we went there first and there’s nothing, how many days would it put us out of getting to Clop?”
“Depending on the tide and weather, only a day. But that is still a day more.”
You gnaw your lip in contemplation. The crew are tired and resting on land would be better sooner rather than later. They have the tools needed to use whatever natural resources are on the island to fix up the ship and Seonghwa knows what kind of herbs to look for, for the wounded. It would be no Clop Island maybe, but it’s still something at the very least.
“Set a course then for…well what is this place called?”
“Rhodes.”
It seems your senses have really dulled under your pain. Or perhaps you would have remembered your mothers warning.
—
The Island of Rhodes is three days out. The crew seem to think it’s good news that you will anchor somewhere soon.
Seonghwa urges you to rest, to regain your strength. But you can't will yourself to leave Oddeye’s side. You keep begging for him to wake up. Joke that Manvitha will kill you otherwise.
Hongjoong stays close always. Watches you from the corner of the room while you sit by Oddeye’s side holding his hand. Meli drops by now and then and forces you to eat. She seems to think the same as Seonghwa — that you need him. When she comes with food she doesn’t give it to you, no, she gives it to Hongjoong.
At first he worried. Thought you’d go back to pushing him away. Even if you hadn’t told him to leave you alone while you sat beside Oddeye, he was just waiting for you to throw those sharp words of yours at him, to twist a dagger in his chest and tell him to leave you alone.
But you didn’t.
You’d let him stay in your presence. And you’d let him pull up beside you when it was time for you to eat. Let him feed you. Let him brush the hair from your eyes even if you didn’t look at him. Let him spoon mouthful after mouthful into your mouth and let him clean your lips when you were done.
The night before you’re to arrive at the island, Hongjoong helps you to bed. The waters have become rough and makes the ship unsteady. The skies storm and pelts rain onto the decks and makes the waves rise high in defiance to its attack. Unlike before, the warrior cries of thunder makes you jump and Zeus's bolts have you flinching.
So when Hongjoong helps you into bed, he does the only thing he can think of to soothe you. Now wrapped up in the comfort of your sheets, he sits beside you and pats over your hair and starts to sing. Each of your senses dull out your surroundings and hone in on him and his voice alone.
He’s so beautiful. Like an unreachable dream of paradise.
When he notices your eyes start to droop, he sings the last words of his song and then moves to stand.
Unexpectedly, your hand reaches for his wrist and your eyes are glossy with something he’s never seen in them before. Vulnerability.
“Stay with me please.” You say so softly he strains to hear. You don’t know why you’ve asked him this, but you hope he does.
He looks between your eyes, warring inside himself on whether he should or not. Because he doesn’t think he would be able to take it if you go back to pretending he means nothing to you.
But he also realises that you need this. That you’re in pain and that he would do anything in the world to ease it for even a moment. Even if that meant he were to get hurt in the process. He would carry all your pain if it meant you’d live happily.
There’s nothing to say. So that night he slips into your bed, right beside you as if he belongs there, and he holds you in a way you’ve never been held before.
And though your heart is a mess and those ugly thoughts invade your head, you still fall asleep feeling warm and safe in his arms.
—
When morning comes you find that you don’t want to move. You’re so unbelievably warm, or rather, cosy would best describe it. Totally cocooned in something secure, your body naturally does not want to part from it.
But upon opening your eyes, you realise the reason why you are feeling such things.
He didn’t leave. He stayed like you asked.
The back of your throat clogs up with the accumulation of feelings stirring within your erratic heart and you’re not sure if you want to pull away to stop the feeling or embrace it.
Before you can decide, the doors open and steps come down the stairs and your eyes are left wide now that you realise you’re about to be caught.
In panic, you start to push against his chest, hoping you can roll away from him in time at the very least but the utter fool with his soft features embracing sleep, merely frowns in his slumber, letting out a sleepy confused groan before pulling you against him even tighter.
Please Gods.
You attempt again, gritting your teeth and pushing more firmly against his chest, but unfortunately all that does is awaken the poor man. Sluggishly, his lids half pull open, eyes wearing his sleep so heavily as his brows pinch together. When he sees your face, you completely forget what you were doing, because he smiles. In those moments upon waking when one’s guard is down and their eyes bear their truth, you witness how the planets align amongst all the stars within the depths of his gaze and you completely forget that you were trying to escape.
Until someone clears their throat.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you manage to lift enough to look over Hongjoong’s shoulder and there stands Seonghwa trying to contain his shit-eating grin.
“Ahem, Captain, we’ve made anchor.”
“Right-right. Um. Give me a moment.”
“Of course.” He near snickers before turning away.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you collapse back onto your bed — well Hongjoong — and sigh out. And when the man in question moves, your eyes snap open, recoiling as much as you can in the cramped position, finding him looking at you with amusement on his face.
“What?” You grumble, trying to move again. He tightens his arms, suddenly bringing you further into your chest making you gasp. The position leaves his face so close to yours that you feel the warmth of his breath fan against you. Swallowing harshly, your eyes flutter up to find his low on you. So close you can count each lash and see each speck that makes up that wonderful brown of his eyes that you’ll never admit is becoming your favourite colour.
“Did you sleep well?” Oh. Oh, why has that usually soft voice become so raspy and low in that way. And must he be so close?
Breaking eye contact you merely give him a nod, tapping at his chest in signal. “Yes, thank you. Um. I gotta go. Sort things out you know…” Have I ever sounded so awkward in my life? Who am I?!
The edges of his lips curl and you can tell he’s teasing you when he asks “Do you really?”
Ensuring your tempers in check you tell him, “yes I do. So let me go.”
“I’m not stopping you, though.”
“Hongjoong.”
“Y/n.”
Staring him down, he rolls his eyes and finally you feel his arms slip away from you. And you absolutely hate how your skin craves that it returns.
“You should get ready too.”
“I think we should wait here.” Seeing that you’re about to scold him for telling you what to do, he raises his hands defensively. “With Oddeye and the others. Some are still too weak to go. Hwa’s going with them and Porus will lead them too.”
Damn him for making sense.
—
“You lot help Hwa gather whatever he needs. You three are in charge of getting fresh water and seeing if there’s any food we can take. The rest of you help Porus.”
“Captain.”
Watching them leave, you send a silent prayer to the Gods for their safe return.
The island of Rhodes isn’t that large, even up close. Most of the surrounding area seems desolate, mere sand and dirt taking up the space. But going into the island, it slopes high, with bushes and trees shrouding it's hill. It’s as if the outside is dead, while within it flourishes.
You only hope that they are able to get what you need and be on your way.
“You worry.” Hongjoong looks out after the crew too as he comes up beside you.
Nodding, you quietly say “how can I not?”
“The dragons haven’t sensed anything at least.”
You huff a small laugh. “Maybe the God’s are giving us a break.”
“Wouldn’t that be the day?” He grins, eyes falling to your face.
Looking up, you meet his soft gaze and find that you can’t stop your own smile, even if it is only a small one. “I guess they’re not so bad…”
"I'm glad you think so." When did he start coming closer? Fluid as water, your body the shore he is moments away from meeting. Peering into your eyes, his gaze alone tethers you, making you await for the tidal wave he is sure to consume you under— and you hold your breathe, anticipating or anxious or both— when the backs of his fingers graze up your cheek and smoothly slide into the rough and unruly strands of your hair and his shadow falls upon your face as he nears.
But whether there was any anticipation, a jolt rocks your insides like a kickstart to your brain and you step backwards, shakily clearing your throat and feeling your entire being buzz in miniscule flashes of heat. Inhaling sharply through your nose, the jitters make you move as awkward as you feel. Arms flailing (much like an octopus unfortunately), your head follows the mad dart your eyes do from here to there — everywhere but Hongjoong — until you manage to squeeze out “I’m going to be with Oddeye, now. Uh… Do you mind keeping look out?”
If Meli were here, she would tease the sound of your voice for days on end.
Trained on the path the crew left on, Hongjoong steals your attention with a boisterous laugh. Staring, all you can do is watch the way his eyes squeeze shut tight and every muscle in his cheeks work to pull them high and stretch his lips baring his teeth. He laughs so hard and so freely the sound breaks into raspy howls of air and his body bows, stomach aching with the depths of the sound so much so his arms clutch at it.
Finally breathing again, snickers here and there with only a grin left on his warm face, he meets your stare. All he says is “of course, Captain.”
—
Hours pass by.
You sit with Oddeye feeling much calmer and hopeful than these past few days. You’re unsure if it’s because you’re carrying the sight of Hongjoong laughing like that right in the crevices of your chest, or if it’s the fact that you’ve managed to make land somewhere.
At first you laid your head against his arm as you held his hand, feeling your eyes grow heavy, but refusing to give in to sleep. And somewhere along that time of fighting exhaustion — a mix of lack of sleep and the weight of everything draining you — you start to mindlessly say that first thing that came to mind. Or rather the only thing.
So naturally Hongjoong’s name falls from your lips. So naturally did you start to spill word after word about him. The way he’s silently been watching over you. His concern. Making sure you eat. Staying by your side despite the way you’ve treated him. Even just last night… when he stayed…and held you… just because you asked him to.
You didn’t even realise how much you were talking about him, until there was nothing left to say and you were left alone with only the thoughts of him.
Do I…? That’s not possible though— how could someone like me ever? There’s…just… no way… how could I—
“Some of the others have started to come back.”
The thoughts distort and swirl startled in your eyes that meet his.
Mouth hanging open, all you can do is merely blink at him.
"Captain?"
"Uhhhh. Yeah. Yeah. Right. Okay, I'll be…up. Yeah."
"Right… you okay?"
"Uh huh— yeah, yeah. I am completely, undoubtedly fine."
Awkwardness stems between you both, stare upon stare until finally, slapping down on your thighs you stand, clearing your throat and choosing to look past him.
"Shall we?"
Sure enough, when you're back above deck, Meli and Saira are helping the others board.
"Check it out, a hoard of coconuts, papaya, mangoes— oh Oddeye’s gonna love that. Wouldn't think this island would be so rich, ey?" Meli boasts.
"A shame there's no rum." You grin at her, moving to help carry the few crates on board.
"Some of the others are still out looking for fresh water. I reckon we'd probably manage to get a bird or two in there Captain. Some meat would do us good." A crewmate tells you.
"I agree, Kaleb. I shall go with you. It's been a while since I've hunted." You look upon Meli. "I bet I can get a flock of four."
Her gummy grin says it all. "I bet six."
"Achaikos, you're with me."
"Of course," he smiles full of pride, "I am the best."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, little one. I am not just first mate for my pretty face."
The way you all laugh makes you feel the lightest you have in a while. Makes you feel like everything will be okay.
As the thought crosses your mind, your gaze is propelled towards Hongjoong and you find that his eyes are already on yours, those sweet lips of his curled into an even sweeter smile.
"You alright waiting for the others here while we're gone?"
"Of cour—"
"—LOOK OUT!"
You fall atop of Hongjoong, bringing you both crashing to the deck floors heavily, eyes checking over him before flying to where the arrow has embedded in the wood. Head twisting rapidly, you see the one responsible boarding the ship— and they're not alone.
"Kneel trespassers." The growl is unearthly, deep and intimidating. It should be enough for anyone to submit, but the reel of an arrow getting shot at Hongjoong has your vision turning red.
Blood-rage is the madness you fall into as you unsheathe your sword, its sharpness cutting through the air, wild eyes focused on cutting the throat of the one who dared to shoot an arrow at your Hongjoong.
Every tendon, the entirety of your muscles have you swinging the metal through the airs tension, left, right, left, right, down, down, down the sword comes just to be met with smooth blocks, almost slow-motion movements each time.
"You humans," she says, stopping in front of you and gripping the hilt of your blade. It creaks as easily as it's bent, like it's made of nothing. "All bark and no bite." You grunt, pushing against her, giving a final cry, quickly pulling your dagger and slitting across her stomach. She merely hisses and before she can think to move you strike at her inner thighs— one slice, then another to the opposite. Sliding up to get her throat, your wrist is squeezed under her grip and you can feel that it is no mortal strength as she tightens. Gritting your teeth, you wind your head back and rocket forward smacking her head on with yours.
"Wretch."
"Enough." A great gust comes and the force of them landing on the deck knocks the crew over. "You are all trespassers on my island. Kneel before your Goddess."
Hongjoong attempts to be the voice of reason. "Let's talk this through. Please, we just needed aid."
At the sound of Hongjoong, the Goddesses demeanour changes entirely. Scorching, changing the surroundings to reflect the pure rage building within her; the water bubbles and rises up the sides, cold building and building from the waves, the island starts to quake so hard the earth slides its hills.
"You. Should be dead."
You frown as does Hongjoong.
"I— what do you mean?"
But then suddenly, recognition flashes in his eyes. Like a door unlocked unveiling all.
That night. Hongjoong arriving on the Island. The Goddess Rhode welcoming him. Spending days exploring the island, tasting the land's fruits turning into the sweetest wines, watching the stars seem to fall from the hilltops, sharing songs every night around the fire and then…
"I've become fond of you, dear Hongjoong."
"And I, you."
"That is why, I must insist you stay here."
"Stay? Goddess, I am grateful for your hospitality and your company. But, you know my dreams. I wish to explore this world. I cannot do that from here. I'm sorry."
"No. It is I, who is sorry."
"It…it was you. The night I left… you made the sea uncontrollable. You tried to kill me."
"No one disrespects me. Especially a lowly half-God. I was disappointed to hear the mermaids didn’t finish you off. Not to worry. I won't fail this time."
The Goddess moves in a blink and every instinct drives your reaction— without thought you breakaway and move in front of Hongjoong and the Goddess pauses.
Her laugh is grating, mocking. "Well, well, isn't this cute. You want to protect him? Fine, I don't mind killing all of you."
Water pools in her hand forming a dagger and with venom in her eyes her hand draws back.
But it seems that protective instinct isn't just in you.
Before you can stop him, that hopeless fool, your fool, turns you into his arms, giving Rhode his back. And that dagger meant for you, pierces him.
Your eyes meet his and this fool — this complete and utter fool — gives you that smile even as pain wells in his eyes.
"HongjoongHongjoongnono."
His weight pulls you down and you hold him in your arms, a scream in your ears that you soon realise is yours once the tears impede your vision.
"Pleaseplease." You beg, cradling his face. The warmth of his palm comes and rests over yours, still that smile there and you sob harder.
"Aw, how sweet. Hang in there Joongie. Do me a favour and stay awake long enough to watch her die too."
"Rhode, I never thought you were this petty. Honestly, I expected more from you niece."
"Auny. A bit far from. Well whatever dump Zeus put you in. This has nothing to do with you. So why don't you run back to it."
“Aw, aren’t you sweet.” Hecate says dryly, stepping around Rhode like she’s nothing and resting her hand upon Hongjoong’s forehead. “I am more than happy to fight with you Rhode, but I am telling you. One way or another, my friends will have a safe passage away from here.”
Rhode gives an outraged and astounded scoff. “The Assembly shall hear about your meddling, Hecate.”
“And they shall hear about your madness. How lovely. Now.” Hecate turns to face Rhode head on. “Get off this ship, before I make you.”
In the distance, Seonghwa and the others start to approach. They’re being ushered by what you can only assume are Rhodes people, weapons turned on them.
“And call off your lackeys.”
You can see both the fire and the resignation in every one of her features as Hecate juts her head at the bitch. Rhode pulls out a horn, blowing into it and you watch each of her cronies come to a standstill, standing straight and facing forward like a band of soldiers awaiting their next orders.
“Now begone.” Hecate’s voice booms, Titan blood coursing, curling her words in ancient superiority.
Cradling Hongjoong in your arms, you’re not sure that you have any fight left in you. From Oddeye to this, you can’t remember the last time you felt so worthless. So pathetic and weak and so much pain. You can’t remember the last time you cried this way. All of your attention falls on his face, blurred vision on the weak smile he sports and by now, the power of your cries are coming out as croaks.
Weakly, he lifts his hand and swipes at your tears.
It only makes the tears spill heavier.
“You must take care of him.” Hecate tells you, watching Rhode grit her teeth and disappear into the water.
“H-how?” your lips tremble, throat restricted, “I-I can’t do anything.”
“He’s fine, but we must get to the giants. Here. Place this on his wounds. It will buy him time.” She hands you a small jar stuffed with herbs. Your hands shake when you take it, every inch of you feeling boneless.
Grateful, Meli reaches between you and Hecate and softly tells you “I’ll do it.” Hugging Hongjoong into your chest, room is made for Meli to rip the back of his shirt and get to his wound, spreading the herb mixture around. He winces, eyes clenching shut and without thinking you lean down and brush your lips across his forehead.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You mutter, unsure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself more. “I’m here…”
Hecate calls your name. “What did your mothers tell you?” Frowning, it takes a moment to think on their words before things finally start to make sense in your head. They never meant road, they were warning you of Rhode. And the love they spoke of… Hecate sees the look on your face as you recall and she smiles softly at you. “It’s time to let go of your past and let yourself be happy.”
Happy…
Soon the crew are piling onto the ship and they’re all speaking to you at once, but it’s just noise.
Seonghwa pushes through and crouches down in front of Hongjoong. In the background and you faintly register Meli updating him, but everything is fading in and out.
Staring at Hongjoong’s weak face, something seems to click.
Happy?
—
You never left his side.
Seonghwa set up Hongjoong next to Oddeye and you were grateful.
He slept the entirety of the journey and the whole time you just prayed that he would wake up.
That both of them would.
Maybe you really are cursed. The man you love like a father, still unconscious. And the man you’ve only just realised you… Now like this.
And when you finally arrive at Clop Island you realise you need to have an honest conversation with everyone.
Returning from a bath, you see Seonghwa stepping out of Hongjoong’s tent. He’s watching something — someone.
Before you can get a word out, he talks first. And it’s something unexpected. “I’ve decided to return home.”
Surprise fills your expression. “Home? To do what?!”
Sighing, his eyes never leave that spot. Gaze filled with longing as he watches Manivrtha laugh with Meli. “I’ve loved the freedom of being at sea, but… there comes a time when you’re ready for home again.” He gives you a pointed look and it’s crazy not only how you understand him straight away, but that you’re accepting of the fact that you have, at long last, found somewhere, or someone to call home. “I’m going to become a proper physician — the best in the world actually. So, you better look me up.” He grins, finally looking at you.
Teary eyed, you’re quick to embrace him in a tight hug, pushing the air out of him. But he returns your embrace nonetheless. “I promise.” You whisper.
And that night you gather your crew.
At first, there’s the tired talk of the journey thus far. The ups and many downs. Then comes the tales of past expeditions and the jovial laughter that follows upon the reminiscing.
I’m going to miss this…
Clearing your throat, you tell your crew something you’re sure they would have never expected: a goodbye.
—
It was seven days later when Hongjoong awoke from his deep sleep.
And you were right by his side to greet him.
The nymphs tried moving you to check over him, but one glare and they backed away. You took it upon yourself to place his head in your lap and caress his head. To help pour water past his cracked lips. To whisper that everythings okay and you’re right there.
To care like you’ve never before.
And now, at the time of the moon, you have a steady hold of his arm, guiding him out to the cliffs to stare upon the sea side by side.
His head immediately tilts to rest upon your shoulder once you’re both seated on the grassy edges. The tide is out and the waves feel calm, the moonlight skipping across in a night time greeting. Without thought nor care, you take hold of his hand closest to you and bring it to rest on your lap. You just about hide your smile when he squeezes your hand, but you can’t ignore the way your heart squeezes as if that’s the thing in his hold.
“I’ve noticed the crew are gone. Care to fill me in?”
You inhale sharply. Since he awoke, you’ve been tending to him and avoiding the fact that things have very much changed in favour of focusing on him.
But the day has passed and now, out here, by the sea, it feels as right a time as any to tell him.
Taking a deep breath, you decide to tell him less anxiety inducing news first. “Well, Seonghwa has officially laid down his pirate sword. He’s decided to return home and finish his residency. Become a proper physician and all of that. He was sorry he would not be around to say goodbye himself, but promised to write to the both of us as soon as he could.”
“Oh wow… I shall miss him, but I know that he will do amazing.”
You hum in agreement, deciding what to say next. “Oddeye woke up…He was in good spirits.” You smile, fondly recalling him shooing off the nymphs and Meli and Manvitha and even you for fussing over him. “And after seeing him and realising she no longer wanted to be apart from Meli, Manvitha decided she would sail with them instead.
Hongjoong laughs softly. “I am happy to hear that. Meli deserves to be with her love. I could tell as soon as they laid eyes on each other that their souls sang the same song.”
And do you think the same of our souls? You want to ask.
With that thought you steel yourself to deliver the news of your fate. “And…I am no longer Captain. Meli is now Captain of the crew.” Your breaths are shuddery, throat dry. “Choose the pirate life or choose you.”Hongjoong tenses against you for one, two, three seconds before relaxing again. But you are far from relaxed and before he can even think to reply you confess "I was abandoned as a child. Left to fend for myself. I would go about stealing just to keep myself fed and warm. And one night Hecate found me. She told me she would take me where I needed to go. She gave me to the Graeae. At first I was frightened. I begged her not to leave me there, but she just gave me a smile and a promise that it would do my heart well. And you were right. I do love them. They were true mothers to me. I just… couldn’t take the darkness they surrounded themselves with… How they could have love for me, but everyone else be damned. And once I fell in love with the sea… though I was happy it wasn’t like that to begin with… I just hardened my heart. So if I were to be left alone again I wouldn’t feel anything. But now…It scares me that I don't know at what point my heart was no longer mine. But… I am no longer fearful that it is you who has it.
The silence lingers and you start to feel an unfamiliar sickness brewing in your guts at the thought that all this time you’ve read his affections wrong and now he’s going to ask why in the bloody hell would you think I feel the same?!
And your anxieties become even more tumultuous inside you, loud and berating, calling you foolish and worthless when he lifts his head from your shoulder.
But it’s only so he can look upon your face. Tenderly, he cups your cheeks, angling your gaze towards him and with a completely disarming and God worthy smile he tells you such utterly ridiculous sappy words.
“You can be the Captain of my heart.”
And no one would believe that you could give such a smile to words as cheesy as those.
And you of all people would never believe Hongjoong when he thinks that your smile is God worthy.
Between the way his moonlit eyes look upon yours and the starry smile upon his face there;s an overwhelming whirlpool of emotions building up within your chest.
If I cut open my heart, would I relieve myself of all that is drowning me? Would breaking the dam mean release?
But that is too violent of an act, when his fingertips are morning dew settling on flowerbeds and a cut is much too harsh and unnecessary for release.
This. This is what you need.
His lips slowly descend upon yours and your own like the hull of a ship meeting a wave draws to him. Except the inevitable drop that a ship would take wasn’t rough. It was a slow sink into one another, his head angling to draw you in calmly and warmly. Each passing second a thousand lifetimes of seasons passing and sunrises, sunsets and moon cycles.You breathed him in as he did you. Lips singing silently, sighing out home.
And when you part a breath away, eyes open to find him so close and you see his eyes. You see the song in them.
And that song is a simple one; love, all the notes dancing in colours that spoke to your soul.
He truly is a gift from the Gods.
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when we collided in the morning
pairing → yoon jeonghan x reader
word count → 678
genre → hmm fluff i think, slice of life, uh. Howl’s Moving Castle au
↳ tags: UMM HOWL JEONGHAN, this is literally just like my own personal epilogue to hmc except its jeonghan and you Are In Love, tender words, early morning cuddles, unfathomable fondness, mentions of other members, rainy days!!, a couple kisses
song inspo → the flower garden by joe hisaishi but the title comes from red line by 5sos <3
warnings → mentions of The War, but that’s it
a/n → can i be honest i saw howls in theaters the other night and its going to be my personality for the next couple days so i figured i should try to get the most out of it aka I Miss Jeonghan And He Is Howl Pendragon And I Don’t Know How To Deal With It. enjoy
It’s a rainy day in the Waste today.
It isn’t usually. Usually it’s bitter cold and wind, or somehow unbearably hot during the summers. You don’t mind, though – you seem to have gotten used to it all. The rain hits the window and you watch as the drops race down until you can’t see them anymore, falling towards an imaginary finish line. The castle rumbles on, and through the fog you can make out the vague silhouettes of hills and scarce trees.
The bedroom door opens behind you. “Hi,” you say without looking, already knowing who’s there. The door shuts again, and it’s followed by footsteps, until you feel the soft thump of something connecting with the bed.
Jeonghan warms the sheets the second he’s in them, and you sigh when you feel his fingers tangle with yours. Sparks of magic prickle your skin, a teaspoon of all the stardust inside of him. “Hi,” he finally responds, voice gentle.
He was gone most of the night. He doesn’t leave as often anymore, nor for as long – not since the war. But sorcery duties still call, and you know he’ll always come back.
You take a break from the rain, turning around and laying down again so you’re facing Jeonghan. His hair has started to get long again, bangs barely in his eyes. He lets out a deep breath when you run your free hand through it, pushing it away from his face.
“Do you want a bath?” You murmur, quiet in the early morning. “I can ask Seungcheol to heat up some water.”
Jeonghan shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Later. Just want to lay here with you.”
You remember the first day you met him, the weeks after filled with awkward professionalism because you didn’t know each other. You remember finally getting closer and practically begging him to tell you what he was feeling, pleading with him to let you into his mind. Into his heart.
(You remember the flower garden, during the war, and the way he held your hand then. The fields felt like thousands of beautiful violins playing their favorite song, all in harmony. Jeonghan felt like the composer, leading you over tiny streams and different colors, a practiced dance that neither of you knew. He was gentle, and kind, and so beautiful. You think it might have been then.)
Your hand falls from his hair to his chest, feeling for the rhythmic thump thump thump. It is strong and warm, never faltering. How wonderful that you ended up here with him, like this. The castle creaks with a particularly janky movement, the rain taps against the window. “Okay,” you say, pulling Jeonghan closer. He follows easily, face buried in the crook of your neck as you wrap your arms around him. “Won’t be for very long, though. They’ll be hungry soon.”
You seem to jinx yourself, because soon enough you hear Seungkwan and Chan’s padded footsteps as they wander downstairs, waking up and starting the day. Jeonghan groans and you giggle. “They can wait an extra five minutes,” he says into your skin. “I need my time with you.”
With a smile you know he can feel, you press a kiss to the top of his head. Yes, you think, five minutes is okay. The world is still asleep, the rain is still falling. Jeonghan is still warm and you are still in love with him, and five minutes is not nearly enough for you to cherish it all, but it’s a start.
After an unknown amount of time, you feel the castle stop moving. Seungcheol must have found a good place to rest for a while. The pitter pat of the rain stopped some time ago, and rays of sun light up sections of your shared bedroom. They catch on Jeonghan as he sleeps, lighting up a feather hidden in the collar of his shirt.
You pluck it tenderly from its place, setting it on the nightstand carefully. The sun is up now, and you have much to do for your family.
#caratwritersclub#kdiner#LIKE DO U GUYS GET IT. DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE PAIN I AM IN#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt imagine#seventeen imagine#yoon jeonghan x reader#yoon jeonghan imagine#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan imagine#svt jeonghan x reader#seventeen jeonghan x reader#svt jeonghan imagine#seventeen jeonghan imagine#kpop x reader#kpop imagine#reader insert
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heat waves ∿ h.js
pairing. han jisung x f.reader
genre. fluff, established relationship!au
word count. 1.8k
warnings. mildly suggestive, jisung's hands wander lol, mentions of insecurities (PG-15)
summary. jisung's favourite past time is kissing you.
a/n. kinda nervous to post this cause it isn't exactly my turf lol. it's my first time dipping my toes into these kinds of drabbles @_@ but oh well, i wanted to try something new :P this is also my entry [6-7pm] for the 24/8 collab by @neo-shitty, tysm for letting me participate, toffee! i honestly had a lot of fun writing this (minus the cringing) and it was oddly liberating since it's the first time i wrote something so short for a collab lol. don't forget to check out all the other works <3
playlist. heat waves (glass animals) ･ back to you (selena gomez) ･ levitating (dua lipa) ･ into your arms (witt lowry, ava max)
masterlist
Sometimes all I think about is you.
Late nights in the middle of June.
Heat waves been fakin' me out.
Can't make you happier now.
With the Sun beginning to set against your back, and the waves crashing against the sandy coast, you feel as if the entire world is in the palm of your hand.
The June air is warm, soaked in summer, contrasting the gentle breeze of chilly air that visits you every few minutes, tousling the strands of Jisung's hair.
“Jisung,” you whine when you feel his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. He nuzzles his nose into the dip near your collar bones, groaning, “stop tickling me.”
You're referring to his mop of curls that're stoking the side of your neck, barely able to hold in the giggles as the locks brush over your sensitive skin. You love it when he lets his hair grow out like this, the shabby look paired with his hooded eyes gazing at you from under his long lashes making your heart skip a beat.
“Only if you let me kiss you,” he breathes out, rolling over on the towel you two were laying on. His lips gently brush against the side of your neck, “otherwise I'll tickle you to death.”
You laugh, the sound so light and airy it fills Jisung's heart with pure, unfiltered joy. He groans when your hands slide into his hair, beginning to tug at his locks as he peppers kisses down the column of your throat. You're teasing him, he can tell by the way the pads of your fingers gently press into his scalp — it's something you do whenever you want to rill him up.
Well, two can play this game.
Pressing his lips to your neck for the last time, he lowers himself until he's facing your navel. A gasp leaves your parted lips when his hands slide under the hem of your shirt, pressing against your sides causing a shiver to run down your spine.
“J-Jisung, what are you,” you squeak, unable to finish your sentence as your boyfriend presses a rather sloppy kiss to your belly button. You can feel his tongue poking out from between his plush lips as he trails kisses up your stomach, a cry leaving your lips.
“–ah, w-what are you d-doing?”
Parting his mouth from your tummy, a lopsided smirk appears on his face before swiftly being replaced with a gentle, almost apologetic smile. “I'm sorry, baby. Got carried away.”
You immediately reach out to grab his hand, interlacing your fingers. “Don't apologize, Jisung. You did nothing wrong. It's just that…”
“It's just that what, princess?” he inquires, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles as he patiently waits for you to voice out your thoughts. He knows how much you struggle to vocalize your needs so it's important for him to always hear you out.
“It's just that… uh, could you maybe… could you kiss me on the lips more?”
The corners of Jisung's mouth turn upwards at your bashful question, his heart swelling at how unapologetically adorable you are. Immediately, he sits up and faces you, gently cupping the side of your face with his right hand.
“You know you're the prettiest girl I know,” he whispers, gazing into your eyes with what could only be described as desire. You feel the heat rising to your cheeks—Jisung always knew how to make you flustered.
“S-Stop it, Ji,” you mumble, looking away as your unoccupied hand fumbled with the towel. “Don't say things you don't mean.”
A frown worms its way onto Jisung's face, brows creasing at your hasty dismissal of his well-intended compliment. Has he made you uncomfortable? Or is it just your insecurities speaking—do you really not believe him?
“Y/N,” his tone is laced with worry as he gently motions for you to sit up to be face to face with you. “Do you think I don't mean it when I compliment you?”
When you look away shyly, hair covering your eyes as you gently shake your head, he feels his heart shatter. Immediately, his hands slide around your waist and the way he effortlessly hoists you up in the air before seating you in his lap makes your heart skip a beat.
It seems like all those hours at the gym have finally paid off, you realize when his hands automatically wrap around your waist. The bulging muscles pressing into your body are causing you to get all hot and bothered.
When did he get so… broad?
As soon as he feels the comforting weight of your body against his, Jisung lets out a content sigh, nuzzling his nose into your chest. He always felt at peace when near you.
“I meant every single thing, you know? It's not just baseless flattery, I genuinely think you're the most amazing person to walk this Earth.”
“I-...” the words get caught in your throat as you try your best to avoid Jisung's piercing gaze. But your boyfriend isn't having any of that, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your jaw as he angles your head.
Moving his face until his lips are hovering above yours, he whispers, “I truly think you're breathtaking in every sense of the word. And if I have to remind you of it every day, then so be it.”
Jisung always had a way with words, that much you knew, but hearing him speak like that, his tone so genuine and emotions so raw… you feel like your heart is about to leap out of your chest. Your eyes fill with tears as you lean down to press your lips against his, hoping to convey the jumble of emotions swirling inside of you with a kiss.
Your boyfriend groans like a man starved when he tastes your lips, his large hand splaying across your back as he presses you closer to himself. Your hand fists at his shirt, desperately clinging onto your last bits of sanity as Jisung devours your mouth with so much hunger it makes your head spin.
Kissing Jisung is almost overwhelming in a sense. It feels like your body is on fire, every nerve tingling at the sensation of his lips against yours. If it weren't for his hand steadying you, you doubt you'd be able sit up straight and not fall into his chest.
“Mnm– Jisung!” you mewl, feeling his heart beating rapidly against your chest. Well, at least you know that you have some effect on him…
“Yeah?” Jisung pants after disconnecting your lips, groaning when he sees the thin sheen of slick that formed between you.
“I-I love you.”
You say these words so quietly you question if he even heard you, but the way he grins makes you believe he did. He gazes at you with nothing but fondness as he caresses your cheek, “I love you too.”
When you connect your lips once again, you can almost hear the fireworks going off behind you.
Just like before, you're perturbed. Jisung has managed to light the candle of passion somewhere deep within you, making you feel things you've never felt before. Your hands have moved from their previous position, one of them gripping onto his bicep while the other splays against his toned chest.
And in this moment, you truly feel like everything falls into place. The evening breeze ruffles Jisung's hair and you giggle when you feel the strands brushing against your neck.
Hearing your laugh, Jisung can't help but smile too. You have that effect on him—like a sunset on a summer evening—all he feels is warmth when he's around you. And desire.
“The things you do to me, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel his breath against your lips when he snakes his hand down your waist, his palm gently caressing the swell of your ass.
Heat rises to your cheeks as you struggle to hold in the whines threatening to spill from your lips. Jisung, albeit a bit sad that you decided to muffle your sounds, recognizes that the two of you should probably stop before one of the glaring mothers calls security on you.
And at the beach, security translated to lifeguards and Jisung certainly isn't in the mood to get reprimanded by a bunch of shirtless gymbros in swim trunks.
He squeezes your bottom one last time before retreating, pecking you on the forehead. Cheking his watch, he grins, “it's almost seven o'clock, we can still get some ice cream if we hurry.”
Your eyes immediately light up at the mention of your favorite dessert and Jisung nearly pouts.
How come you had bigger heart eyes for ice cream than for him?
“Let's go!” you squeal, swiftly standing up and running towards the small path through the woods that lead to the ice cream cart you discovered on your way to the beach. Jisung can only smirk as he watches you beam with excitement, throwing the towel over his shoulder before breaking into a sprint to catch up to you.
As the two of you later sit on the rocky coast, your feet dangling in the air with an occasional wave crashing against the shore, Jisung can't help but watch you hungrily devour your ice cream, and idiotic smile plastered across his face.
This is going to be your daily routine now for the next two weeks, and to say that he was enthralled would be an understatement. You had insisted on organizing a trip like this for months, claiming that the two of you should enjoy your last summer break before college to the fullest.
The prospect of waking up by your side every day till the end of the month, and eating a homecooked meal together before heading to the beach was picture perfect in his head, all the domesticity making his head spin.
When your hand sneaks around his waist to pull yourself closer, Jisung knows he's a goner. His mind immediately wanders back to kissing you; specifically the way your hands curled into his hair, tugging at it whenever he let his wander more than usual. The weight of you body against his is wonderful, almost like a weighted blanket, and the way your thighs press into his tummy makes him feel all warm and fuzzy.
Whenever he's around you, he feels at peace, your touch soothing him like a lullaby but simultaneously leaving him wanting more.
“Thank you for agreeing to come,” you suddenly whisper, halting Jisung's train of thought. You sound sleepy, he notes, and when you curl up to his side, a soft blush coats his cheeks.
A few minutes later, you're yawning, and Jisung decides that it's the perfect time to swoop you up and carry back to your little house on the beach. As he's tucking you to sleep, he leans down to peck your forehead.
“I'll go wherever you want me to if it means I get to be with you.”
© June 2022 by crispy-chan — all rights reserved. do not modify, copy, repost, translate or claim as your own.
a/n ∿ i have nothing 2 say other than that i'm cringing on the inside T_T but to be fair, i'm a romantic at heart so yeah @_@ as always, i'd appreciate if you let me know your thoughts <3 stay safe, guys :)
#han jisung x reader#han jisung fluff#stray kids suggestive#ficscafe#districtninewriters#kdiarynet#kdiner#ultkpop#kwritersworldnet#straykidsland#stayhavennet#kflixnet#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#han jisung imagines#stray kids jisung#skz fluff#stray kids scenarios#skz imagines#skz suggestive
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Box of crayons
“We were just two kids back then, but now we have two kids.”
Pairing: Jaehyun x female!reader
Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, angst if you squint, childhood friends to lovers, growing up au, college au, to being married.
WC: 3,522k
Warnings: mentions of getting bullied during kindergarten, alcohol consumption on a college party, getting drunk, swearing, spitting, oral sex: male and female receiving, slight cum play, overstimulation, fingering, cream pie, unprotected sex, switching positions, smut scene is kind of long.
A/N: I just want to post something.
Meant to be. You and Jaehyun are meant to be. But not as lovers, at least not yet. For now, you believe that you and Jaehyun are meant to be best friends.
It all started when you saw him starring at his blank paper, close to tears while other kids are teasing him for not having a box of crayons. You came in bolting and scaring those kids with your wrath and told Jaehyun, “stop being such a loser,” and shared with him your box of crayons.
On the next day, you forgot your colors at home and you felt like such a loser because everyone was busy drawing and coloring their works while you’re stuck with this great idea in your mind for your artwork.
“Stop being such a loser,” Jaehyun said and sat beside you to share his box of colors with you this time.
That was the day you learned, at a very young age, that boxes of crayons that has a hundred colors are meant to be shared. You and Jaehyun became friends starting that day and your friendship became like a box of crayons that you’re willing to share with each other.
As long as you both have some colors left on your box, you’re willing to share and got each other’s back.
Your friendship grew and grew during kindergarten, grade school, and high school. Until your families acknowledged your friendship and thought that maybe someday you’ll end up together. On top of that, you and Jaehyun grew up together and watch each other achieve different kinds of great things. May it be through sports, academics, or your hobbies.
“Hey loser,” you sat beside him during lunch break and distract him from doing his assignment.
“Hey yourself” he smirked and continued writing.
It was a busy day in school, the student body organization was busy the whole week because of prom. And to be honest, you are too, you were busy with your dress and you were busy looking for the perfect tie for Jaehyun. And now, you’re just waiting for him to pop the question and finally ask you to prom, which he will because you’re best friend right? So that made you very excited and giddy.
“What do you think of Yeri?” He asked out of nowhere. Smiling and playing with his pen while waiting for your answer but you already felt nervous.
“Popular- She bullied you when we were kids? Why?” you answered short and cold. And you wonder why the man beside you is smiling like a fool.
“I’m taking her to prom, she said yes. It was yesterday in the library, I talked to her, and went straight to the point. I made her blush like crazy...” he proudly told you the story of how he asked someone else to prom but your ears started ringing and you can't hear anything he says already. Turns out when you were busy looking for the perfect tie for him yesterday, he was busy asking the girl he likes to prom.
Everything shifted after prom, you and Jaehyun stopped talking to each other but he was too busy with his new girlfriend to notice that.
Graduation came and summer took place, you and Jaehyun are going to the same college but now you’re not sure if he still wanted the same thing because rumors are he and Yeri are so in love that they will go to the same college. It's useless to reach out if life will eventually separate you and Jaehyun might as well accept it.
As you enter college and made great new friends, you forgot about Jaehyun and focus on your studies during freshman year. But during the start of your sophomore year and while you were at the library to borrow a few books you bumped into him and were forced to catch up and had coffee for old times sake. He paid for the drinks and snacks, obviously, he was happy to see you but you looked uninterested.
And when he noticed that he’s probably taking too much of your time, he finally started a conversation. “I transferred just this semester and I was actually looking forward to seeing you. How are you?”
“Great- look I have to study and I can’t be out this long, uhm...” you started to gather your stuff and ramble. “Maybe some other time Jae,” you said and left with a fake smile. You almost feel bad about what you did but he can’t just waltz back into your life like he didn’t forget about you the moment he had a girlfriend. Now ex-girlfriend.
And as your college years continue, a catch-up never happened again. Although he tried so many times to take you out, but you always refuse and avoid him with all your might whenever you see him around the campus. He was so consistent with bringing you back to his life but you just don’t care anymore because truth be told you were hurt when he left you. Maybe this is revenge? Maybe not? But one thing is for sure, you got hurt and you hated him for it.
Now that you’re in your senior and everything is very stressful, you decided to go to this party with your friends and you were so unlucky that Jaehyun was there with his set of friends, busy playing beer pong and being loud as fuck. Of course he saw you and it halted his moves, he wanted to come say hi to you or hand you a drink but you will for sure pretend that he is invisible so he didn’t.
The party was fun. Thankfully, there were a lot of snacks and overflowing alcoholic beverages as well as non-alcoholic beverages. And because you suck at drinking games, you were downing tequilas and vodkas the whole night and that’s how you got batshit drunk that Jaehyun found you on the bathroom inside the empty tub, sleeping like a baby with a red cup in your hand.
He knew right then and there that he is responsible for you.
“Y/n, it’s Jae. Can you walk?” he asked while patting your head softly. But you can’t talk right now, so you just shook your head ‘no’ and reached for him. You knew that it’s him and you can hear him perfectly but your brain is not working right and the room can’t stop spinning. And you can’t believe you’re saying this but you’re happy that he’s here to take care of you.
You had this same feeling when you forgot your crayons back then and he came to rescue you from your little situation. He’s the same Jaehyun after all.
He offered to drive you back to your dorm which you accepted without any argument, you could’ve thanked him if only you can talk properly. He was so concerned to you that he cleared the backseat of his car and let you lie there comfortably with his jacket covering your legs. And when he brought you to your dorm safely and in one piece, he can't just leave you sleeping with your dirty clothes and helped you clean yourself with closed eyes. Everything was a challenge for him, especially when he had to close his eyes before he removes your blouse, pants, unclasp your bra and make you wear something comfortable to sleep.
Jaehyun then pats your head softly and told you “I’ll get going then, good night” before he leaves and thankfully, you were quick to stop him and you had enough energy to tell him to stay. He smiled so big and felt so happy that he wanted to scream and jump around your room. But he controlled himself and removed his shoes before he lies beside you in your comfortable bed.
To his shock, you swing your arms around him and pulled him closer to you for a tight embrace that he eventually returned. Caressing your back as he melts to your embrace and enjoys the happiness that he’s feeling right now.
“I’m sorry,” he started and planted a kiss on your forehead.
“I missed you. Never hurt me again like that, Jaehyun I swear-“
“Shhh. I will never do that to you again,” he said and hummed a song oh so softly until you fall asleep together and meet in each other’s dreams.
Just as you thought that your friendship will never come back, it did and this time it came back with love. But even though that this time love is around to make you two stick together, you never admitted your feelings to each other. You just let your actions do the talking. From him holding your hand during a scary Netflix movie, to you holding his hand while he drives. It was a simple and comfortable ‘relationship’ and you wish he would make it official.
But during a beautiful rainy day when you and Jaehyun decided to stay at your place and enjoy the cold bed weather together instead of going to the movies... everything suddenly fell into place.
“Mmm. Feels good” Jaehyun moaned as you concentrate on lining the face mask on his face properly. You’re sitting comfortably on top of him, your legs placed on both of his sides, while he’s leaning on your headboard with closed eyes, feeling so relaxed as you pamper him with skincare.
“Stop moaning, my dorm mates might think we're having sex,” you giggle and rake his hair away from his covered face. Holding it nicely as you lean closer to his chest to enjoy the comfort of being on top of him.
“Comfortable?” he asked and placed his hands on your back and made you lean on him completely. He started caressing your back and his soft touches are making you sleepy. You may not know, but he’s very much in love with you and that he will do everything just to keep you this time. He’s just waiting for the perfect time to admit his feelings to you and make everything official.
“Okay times up,” you excitedly said and started removing the face mask. While wiping his clear and handsome face, you see redness on his cheeks and his ears are turning red. You smiled and let out a giggle because that only means Jaehyun is flustered right now.
“Can you blame me? You’re so close to me and you’re literally on top of my dick. Don’t make fun of me if I get hard,” he said with a shy smile. Eyes turning into crescents and his cute dimples are deeper than ever. So instead of making him shy, you decided to make him nervous by grinding on him slowly but with enough pressure to make him in the mood and hard in no time.
His eyes went big when you rolled your hips once. Then it became even bigger when you rolled your hips a few times again which made him tensed up and hold his breath. “Stop it,” he said, but with a smile, that’s so big. He’s completely aware that you’re teasing him.
“But do you really want me to stop?” you said and put more effort into what you’re doing to him. Grinding slowly and deliciously, rolling your head and parting your lips. But the thing is, you’re not acting anymore. Jaehyun does feel so good right now and you’re liking what you started. And now that you’re letting out small moans, Jaehyun came close to you and caught your lips. Holding your head steady and kissing you like how he always wanted to.
“If you don’t stop now, I’ll really, really, really take advantage of this moment,” he said and went back to kissing you. A mixture of happiness and lust and you both feel like your hearts are about to burst because of what's happening right now. Kissing each other while smiling in between, kissing each other even more deeper by every second. It’s like your kisses were saying, ‘i love you’ ‘no, i love you more’. And as you two are busy with your lips, you felt Jaehyun’s hands slip inside your shirt and draw small circles on your skin while kissing as if he wanted you to lift your shirt but he’s just too shy to tell you. So without any warning, you stopped kissing him only to remove your shirt and remove your bra in front of him.
This may not be Jaehyun’s first time seeing a naked girl in front of him, but you sure did make him shy that he avoided looking at you. Flashing those dimples again, and witnessing his ears turn bright red. Brighter than ever. “Stop being shy and touch me,” you command and put your hand on his nape and reached for his other hand to place it on your shoulder. Giving him the freedom to touch you and roam his hand around your body as you continue to grind your clothed pussy on his hard dick.
Soon his hand finally started to move, touching your boobs first and kneading them slowly and carefully until Jaehyun became comfortable and confident to request that you remove your shorts too. Which you did gladly, so now you’re left with only your panties, kissing Jaehyun on the neck and making the man moan and feel good. Lifting his shirt without any hesitation and exposing his very hot body before your eyes and left kisses on it immediately.
Kisses after kisses you made him weak until you reach his sweat pants and pull it down together with his boxers brief so you can plant kisses on his happy trail, lower abdomen, and finally his hard cock. And there it is again, his handsome dimpled smile that shows his shyness. His cock twitched when your cold hands made contact with his cock, pumping it slowly while you watch him close his eyes and roll his head back. He watched you spit on his cock, and slowly put his whole size in your mouth. Gripping the sheets as he loses his mind, gripping the sheets as he breathes in and out heavily, letting out deep groans and making sweet moans.
“Y/n, s-stop. I’m about to cum,” he pleaded but you didn’t stop. Instead, you moved your head even faster, worked with your tongue, and made sure to never let him forget this moment that his whole cock is in your mouth for the first time.
After a few minutes of pleasure, Jaehyun came into your mouth and you witnessed him shaking and moaning on your bed with a satisfied smile. Still, with a sensitive body, you lay on top of him and teased him from cumming so soon. “You’re dead,” he said and smiled so sweetly at you. Encircling his arms around your body and kissing you a couple of times before he changed places with you. Finally, removing your panties and making you spread your legs for him, holding you with utmost care and kissing you with a mixture of love and lust.
If you tortured him earlier with your trail of kisses on his body, now it’s Jaehyun’s turn to torture you with him kissing your inner thighs oh so softly that it sends tingles straight to your spine and making your legs close automatically. “Uh-uh, I endured everything you did to me earlier,” he said, teasing you before he slides his fingers up and down your slit and finally licking it slowly. Spitting on your cunt just how you spit on his dick earlier and started pleasuring you with his hot tongue. Your hand automatically landed on his head, gripping his soft locks as he licks you slowly and torturing you with that damn wet muscle.
And when he finally made you cum and had his sweet revenge, he kissed you all over your body and put his entire weight on top of you. Letting your nipples brush on his chest and his hand soothe your sensitive body.
It was quiet for a moment, and only your heavy breaths can be heard in your room besides the air conditioning. He nibbles your earlobes and spreads kisses on your neck while slightly grinding his hard cock on your very wet pussy, waiting for you to calm down so he can finally fuck you.
“I was planning to take you out on a proper date first before we go to this stage. You just have to be so impatient, huh?” he shook his head in disbelief and kissed your lips again before he pulls away, putting both his hands on the sides of your head. His cock was very hard that you almost thought it wouldn’t fit, “Don’t worry you’re so wet. It will slide in easily” he said before he told you to line his cock so he can finally push in.
Slowly he stretches you out, rolling his head back and so are his eyes, while you on the other hand grip your boobs knead them as you feel Jaehyun’s cock slide in and out. “Jaehyun, deeper-“ you requested and let out a moan that made him gave in to your request. He adjusts your position, folded your knee before he spreads you open, thrusting deeper than before that his lower abdomen touches yours. Losing your mind whenever you take a peek at the motion of his hips while fucks you, Jaehyun was so hot as he moves his waist and kept his eyes only to you, this time he’s the one making you feel so shy.
“You like it this way? Deep and slow?" you only nod, “Wanna go another round after this?” you smiled and nod again, “Do you love me?”
And then he started thrusting faster and harder that your body was dragged on the mattress, and your boobs are bouncing up and down because of his hard thrust. Jaehyun came close to you for a kiss, still waiting for your answer. Although he knew already that you do love him by the way you kiss him, still he needed to hear it from you. “I want to hear it Y/n,” Jaehyun pleaded again and hold on to your waist tightly as he fucks you harder than before.
“I do Jae- fuck, slow down. Almost there” you croaked but its too late, Jaehyun’s thumb is on your clit, ready to torture you again and make you cum for the second time tonight.
Locking your legs around his waist as you enjoy your high and oversensitivity, you didn’t expect that you’d ask for more and beg for more the moment you hit your high that Jaehyun got more excited that he almost forgot to pull out. And when he did, he came on your pussy lips, watching his cum paint your wet folds and throbbing cunt. Of course the man above you isn’t satisfied with all the torture he did tonight, so he slides his fingers on your cunt, playing with his own cum and finger fucked you to give you another mind blowing orgasm.
The eventful bed weather ended with you and Jaehyun cuddling in your bed with his hands on your thigh and you’re wearing nothing but his black shirt and a pair of panties while he stays handsome and so irresistible in his boxers briefs.
“I promise to love you,” he whispered to you while drawing small and soft circles on your thighs, his eyes never left yours. “I promise to stay even though you’re so stubborn,” he added which made you giggle and happy.
FIVE YEARS LATER
During a very quiet night where Jaehyun’s hands are intertwined with yours and his embrace was tighter than ever because he was really tired from work, Jaehyun was having a cute dream. He dreamt about how you saved him from the bullies back when you were only innocent kids. He was smiling through his dream until he hears a cry. A cry of an infant and opened his eyes immediately. You stopped him from getting up and told him, “I got it Jae, go sleep. You’ve been up the whole day,”
Jaehyun has become a great provider for your small family now. And he was working hard to the bone that he barely gets enough sleep during weekdays. “Thank you,” murmured and closed his hands again. And after you put your babies to sleep again and went back to Jaehyun’s embrace, Jaehyun was deep in his sleep that he’s sleep talking and murmuring sweet nothings, the kind where you only hear whenever you have slow sex.
“We were just two kids back then, but now we have two kids. I will buy them boxes of boxes of crayons so bullies will never touch them,”
You giggle and pulled him closer. Hoping that he will ramble more because he’s so cute right now. “I love you,” you said, you weren’t expecting something in return but he responded.
“I just realized I never thanked you for sharing your crayons with me back then, thank you” he said and opened his eyes and went on top of you to kiss you sincerely. His wife. “I love you”
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#ateez#atzinc#foratiny#ateezedit#kdiner#hongjoong#lol idk what this is#was it worth the 7gb idk#*mine#*gifs
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oh okay
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john choi of ateez
#ateezlovenet#kdiner#destinyversenet#kpc.creators#kpopgfxnetwork#mangocontent#userthanxx#ateez#jongho#choi jongho#gifs#gifset#djongelskog#applejjongtent
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