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silverlightqueen · 3 years

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Ozone 🦋

‘I need some reasons to live, maybe you could show me some.’

Phases - Hwang Hyunjin X Chase Atlantic

Rating: M (heavy angst, fluff, slightly suggestive)

Warnings: substance abuse, drug addiction, depression and discussion of suicidal behaviours/thoughts, toxic relationship, mention of alcohol, strong language

Word Count: 9.3k+

a/n: and here is the third (and my favourite) part of phases, my hhjxchaseatlantic series! please proceed with caution because this fic contains some serious and potentially triggering topics! I really hope you guys enjoy this, lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! the biggest thank you to the loml @silverlightprincess for proofreading this, love you sis xo

taglist 🦋: @diue @shesfuckedinthehead @danyxthirstae01 @linours @titleisyettobemade @jikooksgirl19 @straytannies @silverlightprincess

‘I’m so sorry, Chaer, I gotta go, they’re blowing up my phone, I-’ ‘It’s okay, y/n, don’t worry about it. I’ll finish my story after,’ Chaeryeong says softly, patting the other girl’s shoulder comfortingly, and she mirrors Chaeryeong’s smile as she gets up from the table, trying to leave without Lia noticing her. She needs to be quick because she doesn’t wanna miss anything, so she slips around the edges of the room, hoping not to get caught in a conversation with one of Lia’s drunk uncles.

The sun is just beginning to set, the sky streaked with the most beautiful pastel colours, and a gentle breeze blows, kissing her exposed skin. The dresses Lia chose for them are so gorgeous – sea blue layers of floaty chiffon with thin straps and leg slits – and they’re perfect for this warm summer evening. The doorman offers her his arm to help her, and her heels click against the front steps of the manor house that Lia’s family have rented. She continues walking, right onto the grass, to make sure she’s stood a sufficient distance from the front door and the staff, not wanting anyone to overhear her conversation.

‘Where the fuck are you guys? The speeches are done, they’re about to serve the starters, and you idiots still aren’t here!’ she hisses angrily down the phone, Jisung silent for a moment before he says, ‘If any of you had answered your phones, then you’d know where we’ve been. And anyway, don’t blame all of us. It’s your idiot boyfriend that’s the problem.’ She takes a deep breath, already feeling her eyes fill with tears. ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ ‘Okay, well, whatever the fuck he is to you.’ ‘It doesn’t matter what he is to me – he’s your best friend. But anyway, what’s he done?’ ‘He’s blown out his mind again. Taken so many xans that I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out.’

She takes a deep breath, trying not to scream, and closes her eyes for a moment to compose herself. ‘Where are you?’ ‘At your place. We went straight there after the ceremony, to pick up the present like you asked, but he decided to pop a few while he waited in the car. They haven’t fully kicked in yet, so we’re waiting for him to get over the peak.’ ‘No, you can’t wait. You’re gonna have to just bring him.’

‘…y/n, are you insane? He’s gonna be higher than a kite in, like, 30 minutes!’ ‘I know, but you can’t miss this! You already missed the speeches, and Lia will start asking where you guys are soon. Our table is literally right at the front of the room, and there are four empty seats. It’s very noticeable, and very embarrassing that four of her closest friends are a no-show at her wedding!’ ‘Yeah, but we can’t bring him while he’s like this!’ ‘We’ll leave him in the car and take turns to look after him until he’s come down.’ ‘Seriously?’ ‘Yes! It’s better than you guys missing her wedding! Get here now.’ ‘Okay, okay, we’re on our way. We’ll be there in 20.’ ‘Make it 15.’ ‘y/n-’ ‘I’m not kidding, Sung!’ ‘Fine, 15. You’re paying any speed tickets, though.’ ‘Fine, whatever, just get here.’

The line clicks off and she blinks a few times to clear her vision before heading back up into the big ballroom, slipping back to her seat. ‘Where are they?’ Yeji asks the second she sits down, all of them waiting for her answer. ‘Hyunjin got high, so they were waiting for him to come back down before they came,’ she says quietly, embarrassed at his behaviour, and all of her friends look furious.

‘Is he fucking kidding? On Lia’s wedding day? How fucking selfish can he be?’ Ryujin hisses angrily, and all she can do is nod in agreement. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him. But I told them to come anyway, and he can just wait in the car. It’s not fair that the other three should miss Lia’s big day because of him,’ she says softly, none of them wanting any of the other wedding guests to hear.

‘I swear to God, y/n, you need to drop him. He’s a fucking waste of space, and I’m sick of his bullshit,’ Chaeryeong says, and the other girl doesn’t say anything, looking at the empty seat beside her with thinly veiled misery. ‘Um, he’s our friend,’ Minho says, the girls turning their irritated gazes to him. ‘He’s our friend too, but it doesn’t mean what they said isn’t true. He is a waste of space, and we are sick of his bullshit,’ Yeji says softly, the boys exchanging glances before nodding in agreement. ‘Yeah, I guess. We just… feel bad for him,’ Changbin says, and Yuna scoffs. ‘Yeah, I did too. When we were in high school. We’re adults now, and we all have our lives together. He’s the only one that doesn’t. He needs to grow up like the rest of us,’ she says drily, everyone on the table in agreement that he’s a total mess.

It’s all too much for her, hearing all of this out loud, and she gets up from the table suddenly, all of them turning their gazes to her, guilt and concern appearing on their faces. ‘y/n, are y-’ ‘I’m fine, I just… gotta… go,’ she says faintly, getting up and heading towards the exit, stumbling out into the corridor with tears filling her eyes again. She makes her way to the bathroom on shaky legs, smiling weakly at Lia’s aunties that are congregated by the mirrors, gossiping about so-and-so’s dress and so-and-so’s new haircut.

She locks herself into a cubicle and checks Jisung’s location on her phone, breathing a sigh of relief when she sees his little dot moving closer to her own. She takes a minute to calm herself down, trying not to let their words about the boy she’s in love with replay in her mind, but she can’t help it. He is selfish, and a waste of space. It may be hard to hear, but it’s all true, and he’s never done anything to prove otherwise, never even attempted to show everyone they’re wrong about him. He’s a mess, and he knows it just as well as everyone else does.

She doesn’t know how long she’s sat on the lid of the toilet, watching Jisung’s dot on her phone, but when she finally leaves the cubicle, the bathroom is completely empty and eerily quiet. She stares at herself in the mirror for a while, and a small but genuine smile appears on her face at her reflection. She woke up super early this morning to make sure she looked especially nice, and she definitely achieved it – her makeup is flawless despite the tears that have threatened to spill twice already today, and her hair is perfect, unaffected by the slight breeze that’s been blowing since this morning.

She rolls her shoulders and neck to release some of the tension in her body, the crack of her bones echoing in the empty room. She puts her phone on the side, washing her hands with the expensive jasmine hand-soap, and just as she finishes drying her hands, the door opens. ‘Ah, y/n! My darling, you look gorgeous!’ Lia’s grandmother says with a big smile, the girl letting out a little exclamation of excitement as she wraps her arms around the small woman. ‘Thank you, Mrs Choi! And you look gorgeous too!’ ‘Oh, thank you, dear! Lia chose this dress for me – it seems she has an eye for good dresses, doesn’t she? You all looked so lovely stood beside her in your beautiful dresses earlier.’ ‘Not as lovely as the bride herself, of course.’ ‘Of course, of course! She looks stunning. I feel like I’ve been on the verge of tears all day,’ Lia’s grandmother laughs, and the girl truly means it when she says, ‘me too.’

‘It is an emotional day indeed. I look forward to the day that you get married, y/n. I’ll be able to spend the day getting a little too drunk like your grandmother has today,’ Mrs Choi gossips, the two of them giggling together. ‘I look forward to that day too, Mrs Choi. Lia’s wedding has just made me so much more excited for my own. I can’t wait.’ ‘Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait too long.’ ‘Um… I’m not so sure about that,’ the girl says, getting a suspicious look in response. ‘Don’t tell me you and Hyunjin have broken up.’ ‘We’ve never been together, which isn’t even the start of our problems. He’s… just an idiot.’ ‘All boys are idiots, y/n. The sooner you come to terms with it, the better.’ ‘He’s more of an idiot than the rest of them, Mrs Choi. He’s not even my boyfriend, and I’m just fed up of him,’ she vents, Lia’s grandmother raising an eyebrow at her.

‘Sweetheart, does somebody need to have a word with the little shit? Because if he’s going around behind your back, Mr Choi will s-’ ‘No, he’s not… going around behind my back. He just hasn’t got his life together and it’s starting to really affect our relationship, if I can even call it that.’ ‘Oh, dear. Maybe you’re better off without him.’ ‘I am better off without him.’ ‘Well, I’m glad you know it. The day you decide to actually do something about it, let me know. Lia’s got some single cousins an-’ ‘Thank you for the offer, Mrs Choi, but I don’t need you to matchmake for me.’ ‘You say that now, but just wait,’ Lia’s grandmother says with a mischievous grin, the girl rolling her eyes amusedly. ‘We’ll see.’ ‘We shall. Now you go back and join your friends, sweetheart. I’ll catch you on the dancefloor later,’ the old lady says with a little shake of her hips, the girl bursting into laughter as she heads out of the bathroom.

She checks Jisung’s location again, and he’s only a couple minutes away, so she heads back out to the front of the manor house, admiring the vast grounds with its high trees, vibrant flowers and clear lake as she waits for them to arrive. As soon as she sees the car, she heads towards the driveway, the doorman helping her down the steps again. The second the boys start getting out of the car, she begins fussing about them. They all look dishevelled, and she’d rather not know why.

‘Don’t any of you know how to answer your damn phones?’ Felix says with half-hearted annoyance, letting the girl tighten his tie around his neck. ‘Lia’s family were doing their speeches, and then everyone was coming around and greeting us, so we couldn’t exactly start talking to you idiots on the phone.’ ‘We’re not the idiots, y/n,’ Seungmin says drily, standing still to let her straighten the flower on his lapel. ‘I know,’ she says softly, not even wanting to look in the car and see him. ‘How is he anyway?’ ‘He’s at his peak, so he should be near sober in about an hour, hour and a half,’ Jisung says, rolling his eyes as the girl fixes his hair. ‘Right, fine. We’ll come get him in an hour then. Let’s go.’

‘Woah, woah, hold on. We can’t just leave him in the car by himself,’ Seungmin says, and she raises an eyebrow at him. ‘Why not? If he doesn’t wanna be left in a car by himself, he shouldn’t get high before our best friend’s wedding reception.’ ‘Yeah, I get that, but what if he does something stupid?’ Felix asks, the girl sighing. ‘What do you suggest then?’ ‘We’ll… take shifts watching him. I’ll go first,’ Jisung says, and she shakes her head with wide eyes. ‘Are you insane? You need to go in and say hi to everyone, and then send someone else out, one of the boys. I’ll keep an eye on him for now,’ she says reluctantly, the boys exchanging a glance.

‘If there’s anyone that shouldn’t do a shift, y/n, it’s you.’ ‘Yeah, I know that, Jisung, but no one else is here, so it’ll have to be me. Just go, stop wasting time. If anyone asks where he is, say he’s really ill and he’s sleeping it off in the car,’ she says quickly, taking the car keys from Seungmin and shooing them away, watching as they head up towards the house. ‘You look very hot, by the way! As always!’ Jisung shouts over his shoulder with a grin and she rolls her eyes at him, flattered but most certainly not in the mood. ‘Miss, would you like me to take the car around to the car park for you?’ the valet says, suddenly appearing by her side, and she jumps slightly in surprise. ‘Um, actually… my friend’s still in the car – he’s not very well so we’re just gonna get him to sleep it off and take turns keeping an eye on him. Is there anywhere we can park the car where it’s closer to the house?’ she asks, and the valet thinks for a moment. ‘There’s a little clearing over this side of the house, Miss. I can drive the car there if you’d like,’ he offers, the girl nodding and handing him the keys.

She follows behind the car, walking carefully along the gravel, and thanks the valet profusely as he hands the keys back to her. She wonders whether or not she should get into the car, but the decision is made for her when Hyunjin rolls down the back window, looking at her with an unreadable expression, the whites of his eyes discoloured with red and his bottom lip split. That explains why the boys were all looking dishevelled – they must have gotten into a… scuffle with him. She doesn’t say anything, looking away from him after a moment, and he chuckles. ‘Don’t I get a lecture?’ he asks amusedly, and she doesn’t even dignify his question with a response. ‘Silent treatment?’ ‘Shut the fuck up, Hyunjin.’ He just chuckles in response, and she wants nothing more than to land a heavy punch on his annoyingly perfect face. Instead, she leans against the car and looks down at her phone, scrolling unseeingly through the pictures that Jeongin took of the girls earlier.

‘Why are you always so high-strung, babe? Just relax. Take a xanny,’ he says, smile audible in his voice, and she looks at him with pure disgust. ‘It’s not funny. Not one thing about this is funny.’ ‘It’s a little bit funny.’ ‘You’re fucking sick in the head,’ she spits angrily, and he looks taken aback for a moment, quickly smoothing out his features into that arrogant expression he wears all the time. ‘Wow, that’s harsh. What have I done to you? It’s Lia’s wedding – she’s the only one that can be angry with me,’ he says amusedly, and she feels her eyes filling with tears again. ‘No, actually, I can be angry at you too. It’s fucking humiliating having everyone look at the empty seat next to mine, your empty seat, wondering where the fuck my dirtbag of a boyfriend is!’

‘I’m not your boyfriend,’ he says quickly, the girl letting out a humourless laugh, furious that that’s the thing he decides to address. ‘Yeah, you’ve made that pretty fucking obvious.’ ‘Listen, y/n, I don’t get why you’re so upset that the seat next to you is empty. Just… move seats,’ he grins, as though it’s simple, and she wants to rip his soft black hair out of his stupid head. ‘That’s not the problem, Hyunjin. It’s a lonely feeling.’ ‘You’re sat with your best friends. They’re keeping you company. How can you say you’re lonely?’ ‘They’re all sat next to their boyfriends and girlfriends. The only empty seat on the table, now that the other three are there, is the one next to mine. It’s lonely because they all have their significant others there.’ ‘Well, maybe you should get a boyfriend then. It’s not my fault that you’re single,’ he smiles serenely, and she feels her heart break.

He just called her single. They’ve been messing around since high school, and never have either of them said that they’re single. It was always ‘it’s complicated’, or ‘yeah, we’re kinda together’, or even ‘I’m seeing someone’. Never that they’re single. And he knows that. He’s saying it on purpose, to hurt her – she’s sure of it – and she’s never hated him more than in this moment. Her eyes shine with tears and he just looks back at her smugly with his slightly bloodshot eyes. His body is so accustomed to being high that it’s only ever his eyes that change. His body is never slow or sluggish, his words are never slurred, he never becomes uncoordinated or dizzy. The only sign of him being up in the clouds is his eyes being tinged with a little red.

Changbin appears, almost out of nowhere, and he looks between them with silent concern. ‘Does Lia know anything?’ Hyunjin asks, directing the question at both of them, but the girl ignores him. ‘No. She’s not stupid, though – she’ll realise soon enough,’ Changbin says with no warmth or kindness, and Hyunjin almost looks guilty when he asks, ‘Are you gonna cover for me?’ ‘We’re not gonna ruin her wedding day. So… yeah, we’ll have to cover for you,’ Changbin answers quietly, and the girl lets out a little humourless laugh. ‘You fucking owe us one, you piece of shit.’ ‘I owe you all more than just one. Especially you, y/n. I owe you hundreds. You never stop doing things for me,’ he says with a grin, as though it’s something to be proud of, and it makes her feel sick – it’s like he’s mocking her, making her seem like she’s just his little fan, who follows him around and does whatever he asks.

‘You head back inside, y/n. I’ll stay with this dickhead,’ Changbin says softly, putting a gentle hand on her arm, and she nods, not wasting another moment before heading towards the front of the manor. ‘Tell whoever’s on the next shift to bring me a bottle of vodka!’ Hyunjin calls after the girl and she bites down on her lip, to stop herself from both screaming at him and bursting into tears, feeling that Changbin’s ‘shut your fucking mouth before I shove my fist in it, you fucking moron’ is more than enough of a scolding.

When she re-enters the ballroom, the atmosphere has livened up considerably, the guests beginning to mix between tables, the music a little louder and the lights a little lower. She heads back to the table with her friends, Lia sat there, and she feels a little bit of panic when Lia spots her, the bride’s eyes narrowing. ‘What’s going on with him?’ Lia asks the second the other girl sits down, and she waits for her response with a raised eyebrow, the others on the table silent. ‘These guys already told you, right?’ ‘No, they didn’t. They’re saying that nothing’s wrong, which is bullshit. What’s going on, y/n?’ The girl decides she’s not gonna lie for him, she’s not gonna cover for him anymore, and she takes a deep sigh before saying, ‘he’s high, Lia. I’m sorry.’

Lia shakes her head disappointedly, sadness in her eyes, but there isn’t one hint of surprise in her reaction at all, which hurts. No one’s ever surprised by his behaviour. No one ever expects anything better of him. No one ever thinks he might make a change, but it’s probably because he never will.

‘I even told him he could get high after my family are all gone. They’re leaving at 9 and then we’ve got the place to ourselves all night. He just had to wait a few more hours,’ Lia says angrily, the others all shaking their heads in mutual disappointment. ‘Where is he? I wanna speak to him,’ she says abruptly, getting up from her seat without a second’s hesitation, and all her friends exchange alarmed glances. ‘Woah, Lia, hold on. Changbin’s with him, but you can’t go. It’s your wedding – you can’t just disappear,’ Yeji says, and Lia looks like she’s debating it with herself.

‘I… I wanna go and speak to him so bad. I don’t know whether I wanna knock him out or give him a hug, but I just need to see him,’ she says distractedly, as though her thoughts are too loud for her to focus on her words, and the others look at her with incredulity. ‘You wanna hug him?’ Jeongin asks disbelievingly, voicing all of their thoughts, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. ‘You guys are all so quick to get angry at him. Do you never stop to wonder why he’s always high or drunk?’ she asks, sitting back down again, and everyone rolls their eyes.

‘Lia, it’s nice of you to be concerned about him, but I really wouldn’t try and think about him in a psychological way. He’s too far gone for our help now. I mean, it’s literally your wedding day, and he couldn’t stay sober,’ Ryujin says slowly, and Lia’s eyes widen. ‘But that’s what I’m trying to say! It’s my wedding day… and he couldn’t stay sober. Why has nobody stopped to think about that? What is hurting him so much that he couldn’t stay sober for his best friend’s wedding?’ Lia says slowly, her friends silent as her words sink in, and their anger is quickly replaced by panic and guilt.

‘y/n, has he… spoken to you at all? Mentioned anything to you? I know you two aren’t exactly… well, I don’t even know what you are, but he confides in you more than anyone else,’ Minho says gently, and the girl tries to quieten her concerns, thinking back to anything she should’ve noticed. ‘I can’t think of anything. I mean… there’s the usual stuff he’s talked about since high school – how he gets high to get rid of the pain – but nothing… out of the blue. Nothing bad enough to make him get high in the middle of Lia’s wedding,’ she says quietly, desperately wracking her brains but coming up empty-handed.

‘Maybe we should try and speak to him about it? Try and get him to talk?’ ‘He doesn’t talk, Lix. He won’t talk, to any of us. Except y/n,’ Chaeryeong says gently, all of them silent as they try to think. ‘Will you speak to him, y/n? I’m just worried now that Lia’s said that.’ ‘Trust me, Yuna, I’d love to speak to him, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get anything out of him. I was just with him and… he was horrible to me. Worse than he’s ever been before. I told him it isn’t a nice feeling to be sat in here with the seat next to me empty, and he said that maybe I should get a boyfriend, and it isn’t his fault that I’m single,’ she says quietly, all of them gasping in shock.

‘That’s it. I don’t give a fuck if he’s struggling or going through something difficult – that’s no excuse to be a dick.’ ‘Jisung, please, calm do-’ ‘No, Lia! How many nights has she stayed with him? How many episodes of his has she stuck by him through? How many times has she saved his damn life? Everything she’s ever done for him, and he thinks he can speak to her like that? It doesn’t run! I’m gonna kick his ass!’ Jisung says angrily, standing up, and all the others start panicking and stand up too, trying to get him to calm down. ‘Jisung, if you don’t sit your ass down and shut up, I’ll kick your ass,’ Lia hisses, all of them suddenly conscious of the stares they’re getting from the other wedding guests, and they all quickly sit back down.

‘You don’t get to choose how we deal with him. y/n does,’ Lia says calmly, all of their gazes turning to the girl in question, and she hesitates, taking a few moments to think about it. She wants nothing more than to see him get his due, for being such a dick to her for so long, but she loves him too much to abandon him, or hurt him, at a time when he could be hurting more than he ever has before.

‘We’ll carry on doing the shifts until he’s come down... and then, I’ll speak to him. Only when he’s sobered up. The next person to go out needs to take his drugs off him, if he has any – I don’t want him to take more while he’s coming down. I’ll bring him in after speaking to him,’ she says, telling them the best plan she can think of, and they all nod. ‘Okay, y/n. That’s what we’ll do. I’ll take the next shift,’ Chan says, the others volunteering themselves to look after him, and she feels herself zoning out, worrying about him again. ‘Hey, y/n. Stop stressing. We’re gonna look after him, okay? Team effort to… save Hyunjin,’ Felix says softly with a small smile, and the girl nods, convincing herself that they’ll be able to do it. That they can save Hyunjin.

‘My eyes must have been deceiving me all night, because I haven’t seen you step foot onto that dancefloor,’ Lia’s father says from where he’s appeared behind her seat, and she smiles up at him. ‘Hey, Mr Choi.’ ‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he says, sliding into the empty seat beside her. ‘Why the sad face?’ ‘Oh, I’m not sad. I’m just… reminiscing. It feels like the end of an era,’ she says, glancing over at Lia and wondering when she grew up so much. Wondering when all of them grew up so much.

‘I’ve been thinking the same thing. I can’t help but wish the time hadn’t gone so quickly. I miss those old days. When you girls would play outside for hours each day, all summer long. It feels like just yesterday that me and the other parents waved you all goodbye on your first day of high school, and here we are. At Lia’s wedding,’ he says with a sad smile, both of them watching Lia dance with the biggest smile on her face, looking radiant in her beautiful dress. ‘It feels surreal.’ ‘I completely agree. These years have just flown by – it just feels wrong that you guys are getting married and settling down. Make sure you don’t get married for a long time, y/n. I’m not ready to see you get married yet,’ he says with a grin, the girl bursting into laughter.

‘I can’t wait too long. You’re starting to get old an-’ ‘You cheeky little-’ he exclaims, hitting the girl with a napkin. Lia’s old aunties shoot them dirty looks and they try to stifle their laughter, but it only makes everything funnier, the two of them giggling into their hands like little schoolkids. ‘You might be joking, but I’m afraid you’re right, y/n. We are getting old, so don’t wait too long. I think… in ten years should be fine,’ he says with a grin, her mouth falling open. ‘Ten years? I’ll be ancient by then!’ ‘Watch your mouth,’ he says warningly, an amused glint in his eyes.

‘If I’m being totally honest, I can see you getting married next. I think someone out there will have enough sense to put a ring on you soon,’ he says, trying to sound all mystical, but he makes it sound like a threat instead, and she can’t help but laugh. ‘No, I don’t think so. I feel like I’m destined to just be a bridesmaid for the rest of my life.’ ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous! You’ll find the right one. Maybe it’s that boyfriend of yours,’ he says tentatively, as though testing the waters, and when she remains silent, her smile slipping a little, he backtracks.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.’ ‘No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It’s… silly.’ ‘I don’t think things are ever silly with you and that boy, y/n. You two seem to have problems that are more serious than any other couple I know. And you’re not even married!’ ‘We’re not even together at all, Mr Choi. He called me single today,’ she says with a sad smile, and his mouth falls open. ‘Where is he?’ he says, clenching his hands into fists menacingly, and she laughs, shaking her head. ‘No, no, it’s okay. I’ll get over it,’ she says, but he’s distracted, looking around the room.

‘Okay, seriously… where is he? I haven’t seen him all night, and I can’t see him now. And this is supposed to be his seat, right?’ he asks, obviously picking up on how the table settings in front of the seat are untouched, how he’s the first person to have sat in that seat all night, and she nods reluctantly, the man shaking his head. ‘Where is he, y/n?’ ‘He’s been an idiot, and… we’re dealing with it,’ she says vaguely, and he raises an eyebrow.

The kids have managed to hide Hyunjin’s addiction from all of their parents for years. The parents have their suspicions, of course, but it’s never been confirmed to them, because they’ve never seen him do drugs. They’ve seen him whilst he’s high, without even realising – he’s pretty much himself when he’s high, just a little hyper or chill – so he’s managed to get away with his addiction for years.

Before Mr Choi can reply, Seungmin’s voice comes from behind them. ‘y/n. You’re up,’ he says gravely, and she takes a deep breath. ‘He’s definitely okay for me to talk to him?’ she asks, Seungmin nodding. ‘I’m sorry to leave you, Mr Choi, but I gotta…’ ‘Don’t worry about it. You have my phone number so call me if something happens. Okay?’ he says, obviously wanting to intervene but not wanting to overstep, and she nods with a small smile.

The walk to the car feels like it stretches over a lifetime, her nerves growing and her legs feeling weaker with each step. It’s past sunset now, but there’s still the warm glow of a beautiful dusk over the manor grounds, the cooling air making her shiver. When she approaches Seungmin’s car, she sees that Hyunjin is sat on the boot, looking towards the lake with a blank face. She feels relief flood through her when he turns his gaze towards her and his eyes aren’t red anymore. This is him sober, or as sober as he’s been in a long time. Lia wasn’t exaggerating when she said that he’s always high or drunk – he even showed up to the ceremony this morning with the faint scent of vodka on his lips.

Neither of them say anything as she joins him, settling beside him on the boot, making sure her dress isn’t touching the floor. ‘That dress really suits you. You look… amazing,’ he murmurs quietly, looking back at the lake. ‘Thanks. And you look handsome in your suit,’ she says softly, feeling her heart flutter a little when his lips quirk up at the corners and he turns his head away with embarrassment.

He’s dressed in a standard black tux with a white shirt underneath it, but the outfit’s simplicity doesn’t stop it from accentuating his lean and slim figure nicely, the colour setting off his honey skin. His soft black hair falls over his forehead into his eyes, and silver rings adorn his long fingers. The tie hanging from his neck is the same blue as her dress, and it reminds her of when they matched his tie and her dress at high school prom all those years ago, the memory bringing a fond smile to her face.

‘Thanks,’ he says quietly, and they fall back into silence. A sudden gust of wind blows, carrying the lilt of faint birdsong, and the trees lean from its force, their leaves brushing against each other. She shivers, bringing her arms around herself, hands clutching onto her own shoulders, and he instantly begins to shrug off his jacket, handing it to her without looking in her direction. She thanks him softly, taking the jacket and pulling it around herself, feeling the echo of his body warmth in its inner lining. He rarely wears any aftershave or cologne – his natural scent is more than enough to make him smell good – but the scent of the Dior spray she bought him for his last birthday fills her senses.

‘I’m really sorry,’ he says suddenly, eyes still on the lake, and she lets out a gentle laugh. ‘It’s not me you need to apologise to. It’s not my wedding – it’s Lia’s,’ she says gently, no anger in her voice at all. She can’t be angry at him when he’s all subdued like this. ‘I know, and I owe Lia an apology too. But… I’ve owed you an apology for a long time, y/n. For so many things.’ She doesn’t say anything, not quite sure what to say, and he takes her silence as a sign to continue, neither of them looking at each other.

‘I… I’m sorry I said to you that you should get a boyfriend. I shouldn��t have called you single – it was nasty, and it wasn’t true. I don’t really know what we are, but we are something,’ he says in a small voice, sounding earnest, and she just sighs. ‘Then… why did you say it? Why did you… want to be nasty to me?’ she asks shakily, tears welling up in her eyes again, and he’s completely silent, showing no sign of answering her question.

‘I don’t understand. Every time you do these things to me, all I can think is that I just don’t understand. I deserve better than you – that’s what you say – but no matter what you do, I still want you, and I don’t understand that either. Why do I keep coming back to you when you treat me like shit? I’m doing it right now. Look how you spoke to me earlier, and I’m sat out here with you instead of being with Lia on her wedding day. Why do I do this? And why do you do this to yourself? You run from the person you need the most. No matter how much I think about it, I just don’t know why you do it. But it has to stop, Hyunjin. It has to stop,’ she says tearily, sobs breaking up her words, and he feels his heart breaking as he listens to her.

He wordlessly moves closer to her, pulling her into his arms, and she rests her head on his chest, trying her best to calm herself down as he comforts her, running his hand over her hair soothingly. ‘I was good this morning. Yeah, I took a couple shots before I left the house, but they were just to give me energy after the pills I took last night. But I was good, I was happy,’ he begins, voice quiet, and she feels a glimmer of hope at the prospect that he’s finally gonna open up to her, tell her something of substance rather than the usually vague things he tells her (she wanted to slam her head into the wall that time he spent ages building up to a big confession for it to be ‘I stay high because I don’t like being sober’).

‘And then, after the ceremony, while you guys were taking bridesmaids pictures, I overheard your parents talking to Ryujin’s parents. They were talking about how happy they are for Lia, how beautiful she looks, and then the conversation changed to you,’ he continues, tears appearing in his eyes and the girl waits nervously for the rest of the story.

He relives the moment as he tells her about it. How he heard her name come up in the conversation, his heart skipping a beat just at the mention of her, and he started listening a little more eagerly. How he couldn’t help the smile on his face when they spoke about how beautiful she’ll look on her wedding day. How he felt like he’d had his heart ripped out when her father mentioned his worries about who his daughter will marry, and how he hopes it won’t be her ‘no-good deadbeat failure of a boyfriend’ because he feels – no, he knows – that ending up with Hyunjin will mean she’ll end up heartbroken.

She bursts into tears as soon as he finishes telling her, and he’s so endeared by her reaction that he can’t help but chuckle, holding her just a little closer as the tears spill down his face. ‘Hyunjin, why didn’t you just tell me?’ she asks quietly once the sobs have stopped forcing their way up her throat. She sits back up, their shoulders touching, and he intertwines his hand with hers, a sad smile on his face. ‘What was I supposed to say? ‘I overheard your dad talking about how much he hates me and my first good mood this entire year is ruined because of it’? That’s not exactly a great conversation to have at your best friend’s wedding.’ ‘Yeah, but it’s a better conversation to have than the one we’re having right now,’ she points out, and he chuckles, nodding in agreement.

‘I know this probably won’t change anything, but you should know that my dad’s opinion on you doesn’t matter to me-’ ‘But, y/n, it’s true. He’s right. I am a no-good deadbeat failure. My life is meaningless. I don’t bring anything to the table. I don’t contribute anything positive to your life, to anyone’s life. You probably would end up heartbroken if you married me. Which is why you can’t marry me. You can’t be with me, y/n. I know I say this all the time, but you do deserve better than someone like me. I wish I was more of a man, but I’m not. All I do is neglect you, and put myself above you,’ he says softly, and she just stares at him with such an intense mix of emotions – anger, sorrow, guilt, hurt, confusion, longing – that she doesn’t even know what to say.

‘But I love you,’ she whispers eventually, and he brushes back her hair with an affectionate smile. ‘And I love you too. More than I have ever loved anything. More than anyone has ever loved anything. You are my entire life, y/n. And that’s the problem. My life is you, drugs and alcohol. You have so much more in your life – you have such a potential for success – but being with me will only drag you down. It’s what I’m already doing to you – slowly dragging you down.’ ‘But Hyunjin, you have such a potential for success too! You could have so much fulfilment in your life. You could be so much more.’ ‘But I’m not, and I don’t think I ever will be. I don’t think I’ll ever get sober,’ he whispers hesitantly, fear in his eyes, and it’s so clear to her in that moment that he hates this. The thought of living like this for the rest of his life scares him, but he feels like there’s nothing he can do to change that.

She’s silent for a moment, debating whether or not she should say what she wants to say, but she throws caution to wind and decides to contradict everything she and their friends have been saying to him for years. ‘You don’t have to get sober,’ she says slowly, his eyes widening. ‘What?’ ‘I know I’ve been saying that you need to get sober, but I’ve been thinking about it, and… it’s like weight-loss,’ she says, the boy laughing. ‘Getting sober is like weight-loss?’ ‘Yeah! Think about it; if you go from eating junk food every day and never exercising, to never eating any junk food and working out for three hours every day, it’s just not gonna work. You have to do it slowly, you know? Make lifestyle changes instead. Slowly incorporate exercise into your daily routine. Learn healthier recipes and make better choices with food that you buy.’

He processes her words, holding back laughter at her metaphor, and asks, ‘So you’re saying… I need to just slowly start taking less drugs?’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying! We shouldn’t expect you to get sober overnight – it probably won’t work if we try to do it like that. But if you just start taking less and less, then it’ll be an easier process. And I don’t even expect you to get completely sober. A couple xans or a joint at a party, or even a couple lines wouldn’t kill you. That’s what the other boys do. It’s about moderation. It’s about not getting high again as soon as you feel yourself coming down,’ she says pointedly, and he lets out a sigh.

‘It sounds like a great idea, y/n, but… the drugs keep me alive. They might be slowly killing me, but they’re also keeping me alive. As soon as I feel myself coming down, it all comes back. The hurt, the trauma, the self-hatred, the loneliness and the crippling pain of my life. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but there’s something very wrong with me, because when I’m sober, I want to die. When I’m sober, I don’t have any reasons to live,’ he confides in a gentle voice, holding her hand tight, and her heart sinks at his admission. ‘Well… maybe I could give you some?’ she whispers, his lips curling up into a small smile, and he puts an arm around her, pulling her close and pressing his lips to her temple. ‘Maybe you could, angel. I should at least let you try. But I can’t promise it’ll work,’ he murmurs against her skin, and she feels her heart lift with hope. This is more than he’s ever let her try before.

‘Okay. We’ll start with trying to… fix you tomorrow,’ she says, and his eyes widen. ‘Tomorrow?’ ‘Yes, tomorrow. If we keep putting it off, we’ll never get around to it. Tonight, you can go inside, say hi to everyone and apologise for your… antics, and when all of Lia’s family have left, you can get high with the boys. Then, after we see Lia off on her honeymoon, we’re starting with… ‘Operation: Help Hyunjin’. Okay?’ she asks, and he nods with a small smile. ‘Okay.’ ‘Promise me you’ll try. If I show up to your house in the morning and you’re not there, like all those other times, I’m gonna be really upset. I love you, but I can’t put up with you running from me for much longer. So I want you to actually try this time.’

‘I promise I won’t run from you. And I promise I’ll try, for you.’ ‘No. It’s not for me – it’s for you. It’s for your happiness, your future. The motivation for this needs to be you. You owe it to yourself to live a better life. Nobody else but you.’ ‘Okay. I’ll promise I’ll try. For me,’ he smiles, tilting her head up to press a gentle kiss to her lips, making her heart flutter. He chuckles at the dazed look on her face, jumping down from the boot of the car. He puts two big hands on her waist and helps to lift her down, leading her back up to the wedding.

‘You look so cute in my jacket,’ he chuckles, and she instantly begins taking it off. ‘No, angel, it’s cold!’ ‘My dress is so pretty, though. I don’t wanna cover it up. And we’re going inside now anyway,’ she says, handing him his jacket back, and he pulls it on as his eyes trail up and down her body. ‘I guess the dress is pretty. Not as pretty as you, though,’ he murmurs, and she rolls her eyes, unable to hold back a giggle. ‘That was a terrible line.’ ‘Who says it was a line? The only lines I do are coke.’ ‘…Not funny, Jin.’ ‘Sorry.’

They walk towards the front door of the manor holding hands, their fingers interlaced, and Hyunjin spots a little flower bush a few feet away. ‘Hold on,’ he says, letting go of her hand and picking one of the flowers. They’re blush pink, the same colour as the corsage he bought her from prom, and he holds it up to her with a grin, a small smile on her face as he lifts up her hair to tuck it behind her ear. It might not match the dress, but he thinks she looks beautiful, and she’s so touched that he remembers such a small detail from so long ago. Pink peonies have been her favourite flowers since he bought her that corsage, because every time she sees one, she thinks of him.

‘You look perfect,’ he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers again, and she sighs gently into the kiss, his lips curling into a smirk as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer. ‘Wanna come back to mine tonight?’ he asks once they break apart, and she rolls her eyes. ‘Really?’ ‘Yes. Your dad doesn’t want us to get married? Cool. He never said anything about us having a kid,’ he grins, and she laughs. ‘Very funny.’ ‘I’m kinda not kidding,’ he says with bright eyes, and her mouth falls open. ‘Seriously?’ ‘Yeah. I’ve always wanted a kid with you. They’ll be the most amazing kid on earth,’ he grins, the girl still not sure whether he’s joking or not, and she’s silent for a long few moments. ‘Fine, I’ll make you a deal. You get to some form of sobriety, and then I’ll get pregnant. How does that sound?’ she asks, and he lets out a whoop of joy, sweeping her up into his arms and spinning her, their laughter carrying in the wind. ‘Sounds perfect to me, y/n.’

The bridal march begins suddenly, the guests all falling quiet, and her bridesmaids make their way in one by one. Yeji, Lia, Ryujin, Chaeryeong and Yuna all have genuinely happy smiles on their faces, wearing matching dresses the same colour as the blush pink peony bouquets that they all hold, bouquets designed by the bride herself. The flowers are a main point of decoration – no matter where you look in the room, you’ll see a pink peony within your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin feels anticipation building inside him, unable to keep the smile off his face when his son enters after the bridesmaids, throwing pink flower petals with a mischievous smile on his face. You’d think he’d resemble Hyunjin, and he does in a way, with his soft fluffy hair and handsome good looks, but when Hyunjin looks at him, all he can see is her. Their son got her beautiful eyes, her beautiful smile, her beautiful heart, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

She enters after their son, the entire room gasping at how beautiful she looks. Hyunjin feels his eyes fill with tears, not at her perfect dress or perfect hair and makeup, but her perfect smile, complete and utter happiness on her face. He desperately tries to blink back the tears, eyes flitting to her father beside her, their arms linked together. He looks a lot older than Hyunjin remembers, but looking around, he realises they all look a lot older than he remembers. It’s been a long and difficult few years for all of them, her most of all.

With each step she takes, he feels himself getting more and more emotional, in disbelief at how perfect she looks, how happy she looks. She reaches the end of the aisle and joins her fiancé at the altar, handing her bouquet to her bridesmaids and taking Jisung’s hands into her own, the boy smiling unbelievably widely. He looks like the happiest man in the world.

Hyunjin watches, from right behind Jisung, as the love of his life marries his best friend, the smiles not leaving their faces for a single moment. Despite the hurt, the jealousy, the longing he feels for her, he also feels happy for her, and grateful towards Jisung. Grateful to him for being the boyfriend that Hyunjin could never be, and being the father that Hyunjin could never be. And as they kiss, sealing their promise of love, and Hyunjin’s son runs up to his mother and the man that he thinks is his father, the three of them making the happiest family on earth, Hyunjin feels paralysing regret fill him.

Regret about the drugs. Regret about the alcohol. Regret that he couldn’t prove anyone wrong. Regret about the fact that he hurt her, and ran from her, when she’s the one that he needs the most, the one he’s always needed the most. Regret that he couldn’t be more of a man. Regret that he couldn’t get sober, not for her, or their son, or even for himself.

Once the ceremony’s over, and the happy couple are taking their photos in the gardens, the guests watching on with affectionate smiles, Hyunjin’s friends gather around him, giving him brief hugs or squeezing his hand comfortingly, and he’s not sure whether it’s making him feel better or worse. The photographer calls for a picture of the happy couple with the best man, and his eyes meet with hers, a small smile on her face as he heads towards the two of them.

‘Your flower’s about to fall off,’ Jisung points out when Hyunjin joins them, and without a moment of hesitation, she lifts her hands to his lapel to fix it. ‘It’s like prom all over again – me fucking up my flower, and you spending most of the night fixing it,’ Hyunjin jokes, the girl laughing while she re-pins his pink peony boutonniere, and Jisung feels a pang of pain in his heart as he watches them. They look like they should be the bride and groom – the way she fixes his flower with the softest hands and the utmost care, the way he gazes at her with nothing but love in his eyes, the two of them laughing quietly – and even though Jisung understood his reference, he still feels left out, as though he’s the third wheel intruding on an inside joke.

They get into position for the photo, Jisung on her right and Hyunjin on her left, both of them with an arm around the bride, and she holds her bouquet, the three of them smiling in the sunlight as though they’re the happiest people in the world. Hyunjin looks like the proud best friend, successfully hiding his jealousy of Jisung and his love for her. Jisung looks like the elated groom, successfully hiding his jealousy of Hyunjin and his longing to feel her love the way his best friend always has and always will. And she looks like the picture of the bride glowing with happiness, successfully hiding her yearning for the reversal of the boys’ roles, her desire for Jisung to be the proud best friend and Hyunjin to be the elated groom. The three of them are so tragic and they don’t even know it, don’t even know the truth about each other’s desires.

Their son comes running over, wanting to get into the picture, and it’s like he knows the truth because he decides to stand between the bride and the best man rather than the bride and the groom. She feels panic fill her, not sure whether or not she should move her son, but the photographer begins taking pictures before any of them can act.

It’s almost as though the photographer’s worked them out, like he can see right through the three of them and their lies, because he suggests taking photos of the best man and the happy couple’s son, the three of them exchanging a glance before the bride and groom move away. Hyunjin lifts his son into his arms, the boy completely oblivious to Hyunjin’s inner turmoil, and he just wraps his arms around the man that he knows as his uncle, smiling widely for the camera.

The bride watches them from behind the photographer, and it’s only when Jisung walks away wordlessly that she registers the loving smile on her face which falters quickly. ‘y/n,’ the girl hears, and she tears her eyes away from Jisung’s retreating back, turning to look at Hyunjin’s mother, and the guilt fades away into excitement. ‘Mrs Hwang! Thank you so much for coming!’ the bride exclaims, throwing her arms around the woman she holds dear in her heart. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. You look so beautiful. I’m so happy for you,’ she says, holding the girl tight, and once they break apart, their eyes both wander to Hyunjin and his son, posing for pictures.

‘I’ve just noticed, y/n, how much your son looks like my son,’ Mrs Hwang murmurs, the bride silent for a moment as she watches her boys laugh together, the photographer capturing the moment. ‘I personally think he gets his looks from me. His personality is all Hyunjin, though,’ she says mildly, Mrs Hwang giving the girl a sad smile. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really thought he’d get his act together.’ ‘So did I, Mrs Hwang. But it’s okay. Jisung makes me happy.’ ‘I’m glad. You deserve to be happy,’ she says wistfully, the two of them still watching their boys laughing together. ‘Come and visit me soon, y/n. And bring your son. I’d quite like to meet him again, knowing what I know,’ Mrs Hwang says quietly, the bride nodding with a smile, holding the tears back.

Hyunjin notices his mother walking away from the bride, and he feels hope in his heart when his eyes lock with those of the girl that he loves, and he sees love reflected back at him, a sad smile on her face. Does she still love him? Is she wishing that she’d married him instead of his best friend? Is she wondering what her life would be like if they were the newly-weds, and their son knew the truth about his father?

But the moment is fleeting, because the sadness disappears from her smile, making him question whether it was even there in the first place, and her loving eyes are on her son instead, not Hyunjin. And suddenly, the realisation hits him. The realisation that she doesn’t love him. That she loves Jisung. And he can never call her his again. And in the few moments before his world comes crashing down, he feels the familiar itch in his fingers, the desperation to reach into his pocket and pull out the little plastic packet, full of the stuff that pushes his pain away.

So he holds it together for the last few photos before heading off towards his car with the tears in his eyes blurring the path in front of him, his absence almost entirely unnoticed in all the excitement. But she watches him with their son in her arms, feeling the crack in her heart grow with each step he takes, wishing with all her might that she could go running after him, get into his car with him so he can drive the three of them away to their own little world of happiness. And Jisung watches her, the longing and love in her eyes so clear as she watches his best friend, and he knows in that moment that his hopes that she’ll one day love him as much as she loves Hyunjin are delusional, that he’s signed his life over to being second best in the eyes of the person he loves more than anyone in the world.

Maybe the three of them are truly happy in another world, but certainly not in this one.

#straykidsland #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #stray kids #skz #stray kids au #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #skz hwang hyunjin #stray kids hwang hyunjin #skz angst #skz fluff #phases hhj

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moon-lixie · 3 years

Text

Never mine - Bang Chan & Lee Minho

word count: 2.268k

song: Control - Halsey

cw: royal au, explicit depictions of violence and death, tons of angst, yay! :)

Kingdoms were meant to perish under the flame of his rage. The universe was intended to evaporate under the pressure of his heartache. And he was more than ready to tear everything apart, just for the soul that had been stolen from his side.

His feet impatiently tapped against the floor just like the seconds ticking by and eating away at his head. Knuckles turning white at the pressure with which he gripped the handle of his sword; he was ready to attack and yet all he could do was wait there.

Steps filled the hallway making the thick air fill with the first noise in hours. Black doors opened to reveal to the king's eyes his friend that shared grief with him.

“Everything is ready for battling, your majesty.” Minho bowed slightly at his friend that he had long lost to rage and desperation. But he was still there, somewhere deep inside and that’s why he wouldn’t give up just yet.

Chan barely nodded before moving his soulesss orbs towards the ground once more. The king was the terrifying example that the world could stain even the purest of souls.

Long gone was the monarch who deeply cared about his people and would prioritize peace over convenience at every chance he had. All that cruelty had left was a bitter man who was ready to risk it all in the name of vengeance.

“I’ll be taking my leave now.” Minho didn’t even have the chance to fully turn around before his friend’s voice echoed on the walls of the somber room. It was the first time he spoke in days.

“I can see the fear in your eyes.” The king’s steps resonated as he walked closer to the man he had known since childhood. “You should’ve expressed your dissent with my plans from the beginning.”

The eyes of the youngest wavered on the familiar features of the stern figure standing in front of him. He missed the soft smile that used to grace his lips with frequency, but that had been stolen from them just as your life was.

“As long as it brings you peace. We’ll do anything for you, your majesty.” There went another bow, Chan could almost scoff with displeasure, but his words oozed honesty so he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt get ahold of his chest.

“It’s your job to clear my mind when I’m being irrational, not agree with me on every impetuous plan.” His steps took him back to the cold throne responsible from the war that was yet to come. If only he didn’t wear a crown over his black locks, then everyone could be safe. But that would be like wishing the sky wasn’t the sky and the sea to be nothing but a void without water.

“With all due respect, your majesty, I haven’t said anything because I believe this to be the only way in which we should proceed.” That’s right, no matter how much he cared about the lives of the rest of the kingdom, he couldn’t deny the uneasy dark creeping in his heart.

Chan’s gaze softened before he took a look at the confident expression taking over the other’s features. “May I ask why that is?”

This time it was Minho’s turn to curl his fingers on the handle of his sword with bitterness and the rage that wrapped his figure ever since that fatal day. His gaze quickly travelled to the marble floor as his knuckles turned almost as white as the surface his eyes found solace in.

“You’re not the only one grieving their death," he muttered under his breath as tears prickled the corners of his eyes. That’s right, the king wasn’t the only one mourning the death of your once lively soul.

Minho wouldn’t dare say it aloud but he loved you, he had loved since the very first time his eyes laid over your sweet smile. He loved you so much that his heart broke when you married the king, and even more when he found your body had been stripped from life.

Tears rolled over the top of his cheeks and finally travelled with speed to find their end on the floor. Even though he tried hard to hide his face while looking down, Chan could see the anger and pain that every droplet carried.

Jealousy and agony mixed slowly into Chan’s heart. He hated to see the consequences that your absence brought, it broke him even more than he already was. At the same time, even when he knew Minho couldn’t have you, the thought of his friend loving you possibly as much as he did never failed to bring bitterness into the picture.

Silence thickened the tension of the room and just one sigh was enough to dissipate it once again. “I wish the world to pay as much as you do.”

Chan only nodded slowly at his words before dismissing him with a soft movement of his wrist. Minho was quick to escape the scene after that, bringing you up even when you breathed along with them had always been a sensitive topic.

The king was left to drown in bitterness once again and Minho had left to be haunted by your memory like any other day.

You had been poison to him, but the loveliest there could be. His soul had been corrupted and his heart stolen by the same pair of hands, yours.

As he walked through the corridors he could still feel your soft touch. Fingers lingering on top of the soft skin of his face. Lips waiting dangerously close to his as you promised to give your soul to him. He would never forget your promise to leave that place by his side.

The thought of breaking his friends heart had many times stopped him from loving you the way his heart had always desired. But after you expressed the same interest in him, he convinced himself that there was nothing else he could do but return your feelings. That’s when his heart first started turning bleak black but the sweetness of your lips was enough for him not to care.

The king was unknowingly avenging the death of someone who had been days away from breaking his heart and exposing him to the greatest pain of all. But he would never know, Minho had promised himself to keep it a secret until the day that death brought him back to you.

For now all he could do was lead the war in the name of love. Because for the rest of his existence he would feel the warmth of your hand in his and the love of your lips against his.

Your back was etched onto his memory like any other part of you, but for some reason that’s all he could see now. He could only see you standing far away from him with your back facing his cold expression.

His sword moved swiftly before yet another person fell to the ground. The mortal metal piece cut through the air with the same ease that it robbed life from others. Any other day Chan would be reluctant to do such things but not anymore, he was a different person than the one you used to know.

He often wondered if you would still love him if you saw him like this, covered in blood and with no trace of mercy shining in his eyes. If you saw him end the life of innocent people that only tried to protect their coward king, the one responsible for your death, would you still see him with such a sweet and tender gaze?

Metal clashed all around the field and he kept moving forward, making sure to destroy everything that stood in his way. He was already dead so he didn’t fear the sharp blades of his opponents; he had died the same day as you did because your soul took his with it.

As the battle continued he allowed his mind to drift away, after all, his body moved on instinct and it had been weeks since he had started daydreaming all day about you. Today he remembered the last time he saw you, so lively and happy.

Unlike the last days you had been smiling so brightly and laughing with the same frequency that you used to before. He thought that nothing could go wrong then, if you finally were happy again then he would allow himself to enjoy everyday yet again, by your side.

With one last kiss on the cheek you had attempted to leave but he stopped you to plant a sweet kiss at the top of your head. “Be careful,” he said while allowing his thumb to trace the outline of your cheek affectionately. And after that you were gone, in a carriage, in direction to god knows where.

You had said you wanted to get some fresh air and he saw no harm in it; if only he could turn back time and stop you from leaving his side, then everything would be the same as normal. You wouldn’t have gone through such pain when life abandoned your body and he wouldn’t have gone to this extent to try and cure his broken heart.

But now he knew that no matter how far he went or how many people faced death by his blade, he would never be content. If he couldn't have you then he didn’t want nothing but the whole world to perish before his eyes.

He missed feeling like himself. He longed to hear your laugh or at least see your face one more time, that way he could perhaps smile again. But that was more than impossible so he knew his soul was completely lost in the dark.

After weeks of destruction he marched triumphantly through the streets of an unknown city that had fallen to his feet. Steps took him to the castle and even further in, to the throne room.

“An eye for an eye. One life for another.” He pronounced with spite as he held the shiny blade against the other king’s throat who only had his title to support him. The death of a kingdomless king would faze nobody so he didn’t even hesitate before slitting his throat.

The once reasonable and kind king was now the one who sat covered in blood on the throne that used to belong to someone else. For the first time in long a little laugh escaped his lips. He was now the ruby king that wanted nothing but destruction, because it brought him the joy that you could no longer, or so he thought.

Kingdoms were meant to perish under the flame of his rage. And they were, they would burn and fall until his soulless mind felt satisfied.

“I love you.” It had been the first time you ever said that and he felt his heart leap inside his chest.

It was wrong and foolish but Minho didn’t desire to hold back anymore so he pressed his lips against yours. He was going to ignore who you were married to, who his close friend was and what was decency. Because he loved you more than it’s possible to explain with simple words.

You kissed him back with eagerness and allowed your hands to learn how his soft brown locks felt tousled and dishelbed. In return he held onto you as if letting go meant you disappearing from his life.

With every second that passed his heart sunk more in regret but he could barely notice because he could only think of you. The way in which your lips moved in perfect synch against his and the way his hand seemed to perfectly fit in the small of your back.

How much did a man need to lose composure? Apparently it was just one touch because when your fingertips brushed gently against the nape of his neck he was definitely lost. There and then he wanted nothing else than to have you forever.

His lips parted from yours and in his eyes glowed intensely something that you couldn’t quite decipher, not until he spoke. “Be mine, please. Let’s just be together, without everyone else standing in the middle.”

He saw a tint of fear come to life under your pupils but you still agreed, you still told him you loved him once again. He was ready to break his friend’s heart into pieces if it meant never having to walk away from you again.

The warmth of his mouth travelled your jaw and then your neck. He moved slowly like how steps approached the door that hid both of you. And when those steps finally reached the door it was too late.

The owner of the lonely steps carefully turned the knob and peeked inside the room only to be faced with heartache. What Chan saw was perhaps the most heartbreaking view he could’ve ever witnessed. His friend kissed away at the skin of the person who was supposed to only share love with him.

He left like he had never been there and neither you nor Minho ever knew that he had witnessed the start of such treason.

Minho loved you everyday more and Chan lived like he was in oblivion, still wanting to have you by his side. Still, the universe decided that if one of you couldn’t have you then perhaps none could.

You were never mine. Minho had thought when he knew that you would never be able to live by his side.

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bandaigaeru · 3 years

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gravitational pull - seo changbin

→genre: brief fake dating, childhood friends to weird enemies to fake lovers to real lovers →synopsis: he was a glimmering star of hope until he exploded, suspending your relationship into a seesawing gravity. →pairing: changbin x gender neutral reader →word count: 8.1k →warnings: hyunjins kinda mean at one point, mentions of alcohol

Mulch crunches beneath the adolescent shoes of your classmates. One intention is shared, in this playground warfare, and it’s to get a swing.

You disregard the heap rushing towards the ones closest, for your gaze is set on the far end of the swingset. And it is just within your reach. Your eyes narrow as you outstretch a palm, prepared to feel the coolness of the rusty chain.

The chain sways away from you beneath the harsh touch of another boy.

You stare at him with wide eyes, mouth fallen agape.

He smiles, the plastic seat dipping beneath his weight. “This one’s mine.”

A small shake in your tone as you return, “I was here first.”

“So? Everyone knows this is my swing.”

You slowly nod, taking small footsteps backwards. Hwang Hyunjin is bigger than you. And more accustomed with goons of friends. There’s no point in fighting.

Though as you start for the abandoned monkey bars (their vibrant red paint chipped to a sad haze) with blurry vision faulting your path, a voice booms over the rush between your ears.

You glance in the direction. A short boy sits in a stationary swing, smiling as though it is all he’s ever known. He waves you over.

Taking all of the precautions, you glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s talking to you. When you confirm, you drag your feet along the mulch.

You flinch when he stands, bringing guarding forearms to protect your face. The blow never comes.

“You can take my swing,” he says. You peek at him through your shield. His puffy cheeks are still indented with the smile. And his hands, not balled into a fist, lay calmly at his side.

You blink, slowly lowering your defense. “W-Why?”

He laughs, “That’s what friends are for. Duh.”

The laugh that trembles over your lips is shaky and foreign. You reach for the chain.

“I’ll push you!” he declares, rushing behind you as you steady yourself in the small seat.

He pulls you from the ground, the tips of your shoes trailing back amber woodchips.

The tip of your nose kisses the blue sky. Though, inevitably, the time comes when you must fall back to the earth. Steady hands push against your back, returning you to freedom. You find yourself grinning each time.

The next day, Changbin saves you the swing beside him. He waits until you are ready before kicking off on the ground. You swing in sync, sharing a few glances under the sun’s hugging rays.

It only takes a week before he’s begging his mother to arrange a playdate. And to your luck, he follows through with the promises, meeting you at your doorstep that Saturday. He guides you a block over to his house. He must be a good kid if his mother entrusted him with such a task, bringing two first-graders over. One returning home and one in need of a home away from home.

His mother is extremely nice, smiling at you each time you catch her eyes. She sets a plate of fruit on the coffee table while you and Changbin battle over the next Spongebob episode. His sister comes out of her room, too, asking you whether you prefer Barbies or Matchbox.

Elementary school passes like this. Recess is spent with his presence, as is lunch and gym and any class freetime. On the off days that it rains, barring you inside the school, you play Mancala. It’s totally civil. Not once does Changbin storm off when he loses. He merely shrugs and offers to set up the next round.

So unusual, though each time you find yourself smiling.

After an emotional graduation party—emotional for the teachers and family, you mean—he hands you a small piece of paper.

“What’s this?” you curiously look at him. His tie has loosened since the ceremony and his hair is ruffled by his father’s hand.

“My phone number. I won’t be in town this summer, but I still wanna keep touch with you.”

You smile down at the small digits. Neatly, you fold the post-it before slipping it into your pocket. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch as he wraps his arms around your waist. “I’m gonna miss you,” you announce, voice muffled by his shoulder.

“It’s only one summer,” he reassures. “Plus, I’ll bring you back something nice. A keychain or something.”

You laugh through the sting that stabs your body, nodding. One summer cannot mark the end of the world, you tell yourself as you watch his car drift over the hill leading into town.

ii.

On the first, dreaded, day of middle school, you scan the halls carefully. The new faces do not scare you as much as the lack of his does. Each call was sent to voicemail. And each time the dial sounded, you frantically returned the phone to the receiver. Maybe he had accidentally miswrote the number. Or maybe he was too busy to return your calls. Summer has that effect on people, you think, where you have so much fun you forget the things you used to do daily. Like a memory disorder.

You finally see him in the lunch line. A breath of fresh air invades your lungs as you rush over to him.

“Changbin! How was your summer? I called, but you never answered,” you grin, nudging his shoulder.

He does not shoot you a glance, nor does he send a glare. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued on his shoes. A sharp pain strikes your chest—that breath might have been poison.

You gently shove his shoulder again, forcing a shaky laugh as you continue, “Hello? Anyone in there?”

The boy in front of him spins on his heel. His eyes are cold, painful, as they meet yours. “Can’t you tell he doesn’t wanna talk to you?” Hyunjin scoffs. “Go somewhere else, dumbass.”

Hesitantly, you look to Changbin. Surely, he’ll defend you, right?

Right?

His eyes have traveled to the lunch menu, displayed on a TV in cheap font. Far away from this conversation.

You nod, looking back to Hyunjin. His abrasive eyes are still waiting for you, eagerly begging you to move on. “Sorry, then,” you murmur as you start for the bathroom that will become your haven.

Behind you, Hyunjin’s loud laugh taunts you. Hidden beneath it is a quieter one that stabs you in the chest. Something painful blurs your vision, twists your insides, and curls the corners of your lips as you try to fight it.

You were a fool to think he was different. Elementary promises should never be trusted.

Secondary school passes in dreary blinks. Watching Changbin run for class president. Bubbling in his name despite everything. Hearing Changbin got the lead role in Cinderella. Showing up despite the physics test you had to study for.

You wonder momentarily if Newton was behind this twisted feeling in your chest. Drawing you to him—like a moth to a flame. You even scan his sister’s Instagram from time to time, finding a picture of Changbin framed carefully beneath the stars, a twinkle in his eye.

You watch from afar as he accepts his diploma, a careful smile seated on your lips.

A bitter taste haunts your tongue as you pack for college.

“This is good for me,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll be far, far away from him. I can move on.”

Some things are better left unsaid.

iii.

Awkward introductions replay in your memory as you get ready for your first college class. Seven fifteen, physics with Professor Kim. Denoted as one of the best in the country. Physicist and professor, respectively. It would be a lie to say he didn’t take part in your decision to attend this college. And the ocean, which is only a fifteen minute walk (that’s what the RA told you when you moved in).

You arrive with a hot americano precisely on time.

As you climb the lecture hall’s steps, your eyes drift among the sea of unfamiliar faces. One in particular sticks out—a glimmer of hope among the trenches. You raise a hand to wave, a smile quirking your lips. But, at the face directly next to him, you drift back.

Evidently, you didn’t move far enough.

You stand at the edge of the aisle, glancing down at the empty seat. “Hey, is this spot empty?”

Hope looks back at you with shock glazing his features. “Oh my God, Y/N! Of course. I didn’t know you decided to come here,” Minho smiles, tugging his notebook closer to allow you more room.

You pull out the chair, glancing at the boy on the other side of him. “I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going.”

He fills the silence with his tales of life, occasionally glancing at Changbin to see if he wants to add something. Each time, he is met with the boy’s indifferent profile. Mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though not once stopping to read one of the passing captions or like a picture.

Professor Kim claps, fizzling any remaining conversation. The syllabus fades in your mind as you wonder how Changbin’s summer went. Maybe he spent it with his sister. Or perhaps he accompanied a love interest to a string of dates.

This thought shoots a concoction of contradicting emotions through your heart. You return distracted eyes to Professor Kim just as he’s dismissing class, burying a content fist into the customly tailored pocket of his navy suit. Minho turns to you immediately, filling your ears with proposals to coffee and lunch and maybe you could come to the dorm later and catch up. Changbin’s ears perk up as he begs for Minho’s eyes.

For a split second, his eyes fall on you before they dart away.

“I need to get back to my dorm,” you announce when you can finally slip into Minho’s breaths of pause. “My roommate’s waiting.”

“Who’s your roommate? Maybe we know him.”

You fight a laugh when he finally glances back at Changbin, who has long since given up. “His name’s Yang Jeongin.”

iv.

While Minho is overly focused on you, begging you to tell him what happened after he moved in tenth grade, Changbin pretends you do not exist. When the conversations trail outside of the lecture hall, he clings to Minho’s side but does not speak. His eyes stay glued to the sidewalk. Or his textbook, whose cover he seems very invested in.

So when Professor Kim announces a project, your heart thumps a little too fast.

Minho grabs your arm, “Be my partner?”

Changbin kicks his leg. “Dude.”

He glances back at him, as though nothing he has said goes against him. “What? Just join our group.”

Changbin’s eyes find yours reluctantly. They ignite a spark in your fingertips as you reach for a pen. “Can I?”

You smile as your head twitches in a nod. “Of course.”

The plan is this: meet at the library on October 15th (a Saturday, you realize) at 1 P.M. “Expect to be there long, I wanna get this done ASAP,” Minho adds as he downs the rest of your americano.

When the day finally comes, despite your daily prayers that time would somehow freeze or somehow skip over the day, you leave your dorm right when you need to. Early October aids a brusque breeze, and you wrap your jacket around you as you approach the small crosswalk. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you dread the inevitable message.

Lee Minho [12:59 P.M.]: Sorry guys, I can’t make it. Mama Lee’s in town and wants to see her favorite son.

It’s too late to go home, you realize, when shoes scrape against the cement and a sigh penetrates the silence. “I cannot stand him,” the voice mutters behind you.

You turn to him, offering pitied condolences with a small smile. “Just the two of us, huh?”

He nods. “Guess so.”

A loud hum draws closer as his foot leans down for the asphalt. You look to the source, seeing a red car barreling down the street. You gasp, grabbing Changbin’s sleeve and tugging him back on the sidewalk. The horn echoes in the back of your head like an alarm.

His eyes are wide when they find yours. “T-Thank you,” he stutters, cocking his head a little. As though, for the first time, he is taking in your appearance.

You realize your grip is still tight on his wrist and you let go, tensing up. “You’re welcome.”

In the library, you work in silence. As though nothing happened outside. As though your entire history lies merely within the timespan of a few weeks. Minho serving as the mutual friend to your forced, awkward friendship.

He shoots you a dizzying look as he turns his packet to you. “Can you look this over?”

The tip of your eraser taps a number. “This has to be meters per second, not centimeters per second.”

A small sigh tumbles over his bottom lip as he realizes, “That’s why the final answer looked so weird. Thank you.”

The corner of your lip must have an opposite gravity to it, because it curls upward without intent.

Returning to class the next Monday leaves the soft hint of a calm lavender in the air. You share a quick, almost childish, glance with Changbin before settling back into the tune of physics. Newtons and joules and all the fun things that make up energy.

The next few weeks pass with a quiet hum, one that hangs in the background and, if you lose sight of it, you’re scared you’ll lose it forever. It’s a time of your life where you will look back with a sigh and whisper, “How did I not realize how good I had it?”

At your peak, you fall onto your bed on a Friday night. Jeongin scribbles impatient homework answers while your eyes fall shut.

The storm of your phone blaring its tune awakes you.

Lee Minho calls to remind you that he expects you to arrive at his ‘rager of a birthday party.’ He tells you the address, enthusiastically repeating himself (like an auctioneer) as you try to find a pad of paper. Jeongin’s jumping up to fix his hair before you even hang up.

You’re really not sure what you expect as you drag your roommate in tow towards the destination. Though, when you feel the tremble of music and hear shouts from the lawn of the frat house, you somehow know you’re in the right place.

The foyer is packed with jumping bodies. Leaning on the stairs, a red solo cup in hand, is the man of the hour. His cheeks are dusted in a light coating of heat and, as you approach him, you notice that glitter brushes soft highlights along his cheekbones.

“Happy early birthday!” you shout over the music.

He dizzily turns to you and drags you towards his chest in a swift motion. “Y/N! Thank you for coming!”

You had no choice. It was either come to the party or admit yourself to Lee Minho’s terrifying grudge list.

Despite this, you return with a grin, “Of course!”

When he lets you go into the stale air, he shoves his cup into your hand. “Try some,” he nods.

You tip the plastic to your lips. As the liquid scrapes the back of your throat, you flinch back. “What is this?” Your face twists.

“Just vodka and Coke.”

You hastily return the cup to him and glance around. Jeongin has disappeared to a desolate corner, you presume. A spark of jealousy runs through your veins.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you find yourself asking Minho.

He points down a vacant hallway and tells you it’s the last door on your left. You thank him before scurrying in that direction.

Your knock echoes, though nothing returns. The pale wood feels cold against your cheek as you listen for any life inside. You find it safe to enter. Instantly, you press your palms against the cold marble. Identical eyes stare into each other in the mirror until your eyes slip to the pale, spotless basin. You stare into the milky dome absently, pondering why you feel so odd being here. And for a moment you forget where you are, lost in the dizzying world of your thoughts.

Until you hear the choked sob from behind the shower curtain.

It takes you by surprise. Hesitantly, you reach out for the navy shield.

“Ch-Changbin?” you stutter, staring down at the boy in a mess of shock.

His legs are drawn to his chest as trails of tears line his cheeks. He lets out a squeak as he looks up to you. Arms fall to his sides as he leans forward. Though, he appears to have no intention of stopping, surrendering himself to gravity.

Your hands find his shoulders merely moments before his nose slams into the porcelain. “Are you drunk?” you whisper.

Though, in return, he sobs. “I’m sorry.”

Something pierces your chest. Your lips part to say something, but the words are clogged in your throat.

“I was such an idiot,” he slurs, swaying gently.

“What’re you talking about?” you finally ask.

His balled fist slams against the tub. “You!” he shouts, face twisting as he releases another cry.

You flinch back.

“My mom always asks how you’re doing, no matter how many times I tell her. My sister still has a grudge. Hell, even Hwang Hyunjin thinks I’m an idiot and he’s the one who tricked me into leaving you!”

He leans his cheek against the wall, once again releasing a cry. Though, this one, he fights to hold back. It scalds the air in a whimper.

Quieter, he admits, “You were the only person I’ve ever felt safe with.”

You sigh, looking down at your shoes. Those days when you wondered what had gone wrong, staring up at your blank ceiling and trying to relive his smile as quiet tears fell to your pillow, wash down the drain.

He watches intently as you climb into the tub. You do not look at him as you slowly lean against the wall he rests his cheek on. Instead, you stare at the mahogany finish of the small cabinets. Regardless, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your cheek. In this cold porcelain cage, all you can hear is the distant thumping of music and the occasional sniffle from the boy beside you. You smile at the familiarity of it, returning you to your former years cozied up on a playground. No worries back then, you jealously note with a muted snicker.

“I missed you,” you finally say. Tears blur your vision, warping the defined lines of wood into a mess of color.

When you bring yourself to look at him, his eyes are closed. You lean a little closer to see if he’s sleeping. Reluctant lips part as he whispers, his breath hot and reeking of tequila, “I missed you too.”

vi.

One of the things you come to realize is that Changbin’s smile has never changed. There’s still that little indent where his cheeks fold over and each time he offers a glimpse at it you are returned to the days of the swing.

Thanks to the drunken night (half drunken night, you should say, since he had enough for both of you), Changbin has allowed a sneak peek back to his life. Strictly over text, though. You’re not sure why he’s never asked to meet up—maybe it’s too much too fast, you think—but you cannot find it in you to complain. He’s back after all these years and that seems to be enough.

So you endure it, texting him until the early hours of the morning and fascinating yourself over all of these things you have missed.

Seo Changbin [2:39 A.M.]: My sister and I went to the elementary school a couple of weeks ago.

Looking at your phone burns your eyes, as does the weird feeling in your chest.

Y/N [2:40 A.M.]: Really? Has it changed much?

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: The kids after us got all the cool playground equipment :(

Seo Changbin [2:40 A.M.]: I should take you there one day haha. I think that’d be fun.

You fight the giggle that wishes to flee, glancing up at a sleeping Jeongin for reassurance.

Waking up in the morning is aided with fleeting regrets, though beneath it you realize there is a small skip in your step. One that flares a heat in your face when you walk into the physics classroom and reach to meet Changbin’s eyes. And there, waiting, is his gaze and a small smile.

Maybe you have it bad for Seo Changbin, you think, as Professor Kim begins talking about Newton’s Third Law.

vii.

Yang Jeongin is broadcasting his homework onto the cheap projector he bought on Amazon for $50. “Isn’t it so cool?” he marvels as his red pen underlines a key part of his notes.

You absently nod, glaring at your textbook. Between the lines is a screaming thought that cascades a waterfall of forget towards your upcoming exam. You fail to notice your phone buzzing against your bed. Daydreams are dangerous like that.

“Y/N,” Jeongin’s voice finally snaps you out of it. You look to him, standing at the door and lazily holding the knob. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as you rush to take his spot. Before you can tug the door open, he presses a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful around him, please.”

You watch as he struts and flops down on his bed, opening a comic book above his head.

As you open the door, a little more hesitant than before the interaction with Jeongin, you smile.

Changbin is watching the end of your hall and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. When he senses your presence, he finally breaks his trance and offers a smile. He keeps his voice low, “Can I talk to you?”

You nod, ignoring the annoying thump thump of your heart, “Sure. What’s up?”

“In private,” he adds, peeking over your head at Jeongin. Maintaining his hold on the comic book, though his eyes have drifted to you with a parental glare.

You shut the door behind you. His footsteps draw towards the common area, and you follow. There’s a silence draped over you until he abruptly stops in the middle of the hallway and turns to you. “I need you to pretend to date me.”

You blink. “W-What?”

He draws his bottom lip between his teeth momentarily before continuing, “I made a stupid bet and I kind of really need the money.”

A shroud of toughness hides your instant willingness to help. “What do I get out of this?”

His eyes radiate the innocence of a child. They draw you to a distant memory, one that you might have seen in a movie and forced into a memory, but you’re not sure. You were at his house after he broke his arm and he cried, those same eyes staring at you as he whined about how much it hurt. And how itchy his arm was beneath the cast.

Your heart softens, and you have to fight the crumbling beneath your feet.

“Whatever you want,” he assertively nods. “Seriously.”

You sigh. “Do you have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” he smiles, pulling you into a grateful hug. His hoodie smells vaguely of ramen with a hint of sealike cologne you might find in Lee Minho’s bathroom. You find yourself smiling as your hands rest on his back.

viii.

His hand, admittedly, feels a little odd in your hand. The last time you had held his hand was in second grade, when you went to the zoo on a field trip. Your class was already flooding into the bird exhibit with anticipation and exuberance. But you were crying your eyes out at the mere thought of seeing a parrot. (This unfounded fear is all thanks to Spongebob)

Changbin’s hand slipped into yours and slowly urged you in, mumbling that if you didn’t go you’d get stuck there forever. And then, he had whispered, the parrots might eat us alive. Even then, his hand was oddly clammy and a little sticky.

But now, as he guides you through the small neighborhood, you feel a calm mix of elation and awkwardness. Sure, this is groundbreaking material for you and your “small” crush on him. However, he’s not doing this because he likes you. He’s doing this because he needs some cash and you were a means of aiding him.

“Where are we going?” you ask, a cloud of your breath expanding from your lips. It’s only the beginning of November.

“You’ll see,” he glances over at you, a small smile painted on his pale cheeks.

There’s a small line of shrubs on your side of the sidewalk. Serving as a break in them is a metal archway, accompanied by a small wooden sign reading: Gyeonghwa Park. He turns into it, guiding you into the small fenced area. A two person swing set stands in the corner, absent seats trembling in the breeze. There’s a few wooden benches, though most are tainted in a layer of leaves.

“Ta-da,” he says, gesturing with his free arm at the small park.

You look around to the little duck statue in the corner. “I don’t mean to be rude, but why are we here again?” you turn to him. His hand burns against your skin like a constant reminder.

“I can’t take you to our playground, so I thought we could settle for here as our first fake date,” he smiles. “Plus, we need couple pictures and I think this works well.”

You’re grateful for the breeze that dashes pink across your cheeks, disguising the heat that has rushed to them at his words. “R-Right,” you stutter.

He takes a seat on a leafless bench and slips his phone from his pocket. As you reluctantly sit beside him, you watch as he sends texts to his friends. Nothing regarding you, you presume, but when he feels your eyes he quickly closes the chat.

The pictures are poised carefully, his arm resting on the top of the bench behind you, your head tilted towards his as you smile. Without warning, he presses his lips to your cheek as the shutter clicks. You try not to make your flinch obvious.

He pulls back, smiling slightly as he inquires, “Should we kiss to seal the deal?”

Fire poisons your veins as you stare back at him. The invisible mark his lips had left sizzles in the air. “Do you think we should?” you whisper.

He shrugs. “It’ll make it a bit more believable. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, though.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. Kiss me.”

The corners of his lips upturn a little further, sending a shiver down your spine—though maybe it was just the wind. He readjusts his phone, glancing to assure you’re both in frame, before leaning in. At first, his lips merely wander in the air before yours, as though he is thinking about the best way to do this. But then, confident lips press against yours. His touch melts away the numbness in your fingers, the shiver of the cold. In this moment of freedom, you wonder if he had ever wondered what your lips tasted like. Because you sure have.

ix.

Each of your fake dates is constructed with careful attention to detail. A trip to the movies (seeing a film you had mentioned wanting to see very briefly over text). A study ‘date’ that didn’t really feel romantic, though he brought you an americano and a fancy pen he stole from his dad’s work.

But your date today is very special. The diner is filled to the brim with hungry college students and elderly couples. In the back, bunched up against the upholstery, are Changbin’s friends. They throw their heads back to laugh as one tells a stupid joke. Changbin leads you down the aisle slowly. He squeezes your hand, whispering over his shoulder, “Thank you, again, for doing this. It means a lot.”

You smile against your will,“That’s what friends are for.”

As you approach, the new and familiar faces turn to you. Some hold smiles, others hold gaping lips.

“I didn’t think you actually found someone willing to date you,” a boy marvels.

“Let alone Y/N! How come I didn’t know you were dating?” Minho shouts, garnering certain harsh looks from neighboring booths.

A glimmering smile finds your lips as you slide into the booth beside him, “You never asked.”

He scoffs. “Am I supposed to ask when anything life-changing happens?”

Changbin files in beside you, sighing, “Not necessarily, but you talk a lot.”

“How long have you been dating?” a boy across from you asks. His cheeks are dusted with light freckles, and a friendly smile paints across his lips.

“Nearly two months,” you glance at Changbin, who nods. The finer details, he stressed, must be known like the back of your hand. A single hair out of place could be the end.

“Are you serious?” Minho booms. His eyes are wide and his lips are parted. Even his eyebrows raise in awe, scratching dull wrinkles across his forehead.

“You do talk a lot,” you mumble.

Before Minho can have the chance to shout profanities aiding his awe, another boy sighs. “Shut up and congratulate them, okay? This is karma for laughing at him when he wanted in on the bet.”

“Thank you, Chan,” Changbin smiles, wrapping an adept arm around your shoulder. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder.

As the night unfolds, queued by digging questions and the occasional groan from Minho, you nearly forget that this is an act. That when Changbin presses a kiss to your forehead it’s not real.

Outside of the diner, as his friends disperse into their means of transportation, he cups your cheeks and presses a soft kiss to your lips. When he parts, there’s a small smile and a gloss hanging over his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.

He promises to pick you up at five. All that remains is the reward, you realize. A simple favor has brought you here, waiting impatiently for his knock on your door. Your heart beats harshly against your chest.

“Why are you even messing with him?” Jeongin mutters, stirring his ramen with the tips of his chopsticks.

You glance up at him, sighing, “I’m not messing with him. I’m doing him a favor.”

“Yeah, but, why? He’s an asshole, Y/N,” he shakes his head. As he shoves the steaming noodles into his mouth, he hisses at the heat and tilts his head to the side.

You watch him as he gulps down water.

At your prolonged silence, he adds, “When is he supposed to pick you up?”

You tap your phone screen, illuminating the time. “Five minutes ago.”

Jeongin drowns his harsh words with more noodles. Though, in between bites, he says, “Maybe he’s standing you up.”

The thought has crossed your mind, though a hollow in your chest wants to believe he wouldn’t do that. Friends, if that’s what you are, don’t do that.

Seconds drift into minutes. And minutes turn into an hour. Jeongin’s gone through three more ramen cups. Your lips ache as you nervously bite them, jumping for your phone at each notification.

At half past six, Jeongin rests into your bed beside you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he wraps a cautious arm around your shoulder.

Though, you do not feel anything aside from the irritation blurring your eyes. “Are you okay?” he asks. These simple words open the floodgate.

xi.

His eyes avert yours as though they had never known you in the first place. Minho doesn’t say anything when you lower yourself in the seat beside him. Instead, he cautiously slips you a small note. Large, scratchy words read: are you okay?

You crumble the note in your palm before tucking it into your bag. He does not bother you for the rest of class. Class travels by in grueling moments. Professor Kim’s voice seems slowed, stripped of any tone. When he finally dismisses class, warning that the semester is ending soon, you haphazardly shove your things into your bag and leave.

Over your shoulder, you hear a low smack and Minho mutter, “What the hell is the matter with you?”

It hurts to admit, given that you had known from the beginning, but Seo Changbin used you. Though, despite the anger you should be feeling, you can only find yourself wondering what he needed the money so badly for.

Back at the dorm, Jeongin silently pulls a piece of cake from the small fridge and hands it to you. “Here,” he mumbles. “My friend made it for you.”

You look up at him. “Why?” Your voice is raw from desuetude, crackles like an old radio.

Jeongin bites his lip, eyes slipping to your comforter. “I told him you were having a rough time. Plus, he knows Changbin, so he knows the story.”

You take the paper plate in your fingertips, dragging it toward you. You poke the delicacy with the tip of your fork. “What’s the story?”

A sigh slips past his lips. “That you guys dated and you broke up. That’s all Changbin told them.”

You nod. He must’ve gotten the money and thrown you away.

Your phone buzzes against the mattress. Jeongin leans over to check who it is. When his eyes meet yours again, he informs, “It’s just Minho.”

So you allow yourself to look at your phone.

Lee Minho [9:20 A.M.]: I’m outside your dorm. Let me in please.

You look up to the door, though your energy is below zero. Jeongin grabs your phone, reading the message, before going to answer the door.

“Hey, Jeongin,” Minho pushes past him. He sits at the foot of your bed. “What happened?”

You blink, eyes staring into his absently. “What?”

“With Changbin. Tell me what happened, please. He won’t tell us anything and I’m starting to get worried for both of you. He’s never this quiet and you’re never this sulky,” he reluctantly rests his hand on your knee.

You look at Jeongin, who stands there with arms against his chest. He shrugs, silently telling you it’s up to you.

You sigh. “Where do I start?”

“The beginning, preferably.”

“I think I fell in love with him, but I can’t tell you when. Maybe it was when we were kids. Maybe it was at the party when he apologized,” you slowly say. The words do not feel like yours. A small pit rumbles in your stomach, begging you to continue. “He wanted a favor, to pretend to date him for that bet you guys made. I didn’t ask why he needed the money or why I should do this for him, given all he did to me. I just went with it. And things were great, as far as fake relationships go.”

In your break of silence, you find yourself smiling at all the fake dates. You wonder if the pictures still live in his phone or if he discarded them the moment he got rid of you.

“So you guys faked the whole thing?” Minho’s eyebrows furrow.

You nod. “He was supposed to pick me up on Saturday, but he stood me up. And now we’re here.”

Minho blinks. “Either Changbin’s a good actor or he’s a fucking asshole.”

“It’s the latter,” Jeongin announces as he crosses to his bed.

Minho shakes his head. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t tell him what I said,” you rush. “About loving him or anything.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

After he leaves, Jeongin loudly sighs. “I knew you were in love with him.”

You look at him, slowly nodding, “I didn’t really make an effort to hide it.”

xii.

There are tears irritating your skin as you pull yourself out of bed. Surviving off of Felix’s cake and Jeongin’s ramen cups is less than attractive, but you cannot build enough will to leave your dorm. You ask Minho to take notes in physics for you and he quickly obliges, no questions asked.

Changbin, still, plagues your mind like venom. Each time you think maybe a nap is in order, you shut your eyes and see his smile. Or you’ll think of his lips on yours as he smiles into the kiss. Your eyes shoot open, chest rising heavily. Even when you stare at your ceiling too long, your brain deems it a screen for a memory to play. Casted like Jeongin’s cheap projector.

There was this once, in fourth grade when you grew bored of the swings so you relocated to the plastic blue tunnel. He blocked off one end while you took the other. On hotter days, you’d lay on top of the tunnel. One day, he looked at you across the plastic and asked, “Do you ever think we’ll be grown ups far away from each other?”

You shook your head so confidently. “No. We’re gonna live together. Like roommates.”

Jeongin comes home from his classes with a cup of coffee. He sets it on your nightstand as he whispers, “I’m spending the night at Chan’s tonight. Call me if you need anything.”

You take a sip of the americano. “Thanks, have fun.”

In his wake is a dreaded silence that reminds you of Changbin’s laugh. Time has only plagued it with a dash of depth.

Your phone buzzes. Hesitantly, you roll over and grab it. The metal is cold against your fingers.

Lee Minho [4:29 P.M.]: Hey, I need you to come to the beach. There’s something I want to show you.

The thing that tipped you over the edge when looking for a college was the beach. As you carefully scouted, the grains of sand kept drawing you back. It’s ironic as you realize that you haven’t been once, despite its proximity. You can already feel the bitter cold against your cheeks as you rise from your bed. Dots of dizziness scatter across your eyes.

The mid November air is cooler than you expected as you step out of the complex. You shove balled fists deeper into your hoodie pocket.

The walk to the beach is shorter than you had expected, only passing ten minutes. You see Minho waiting on the wooden slats leading to the sand. He jumps to preserve his heat.

“Hey,” you call out to him.

He looks to you, daring to unveil a pale hand as he waves. When you’re closer he says, “It’s fucking cold out here.”

You nod, looking out onto the vacant sand. Huddled like a speck of trash is a small figure.

“Why’d you want to meet out here?” you return to look at him, a piercing cold slashing your heart at the realization.

His face softens as he glances out towards the black speck in the sand. “Well, he wanted to meet you here but he wasn’t sure if you’d come if he texted. So he dragged me out here.”

You find yourself laughing. “And you agreed?”

“I didn’t know it was negative twenty out here,” he mutters. “So go and talk to him so I can get back in my car.”

You smile. Your heart thunders against your chest and, even though you know you shouldn’t, your feet move towards the small figure. He tugs you in, time and time again.

You glance over your shoulder when you reach him. Minho’s already gone, as though his presence was merely a ghost. You squat next to Changbin, wrapping your arms around your knees.

He looks at you, though you keep focused on the pale water. Brushing up on the sand, pulling back into the ocean.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You nod. “You always say that.”

“I really am,” he admits. “I know you probably think I’m an asshole, reasonably so, but I really am sorry for everything.”

You finally look at him. “What’d you need the money for?”

He’s taken aback. He had expected more of a heartbreaking confession, a perspective he had not once explored. “Music equipment,” he says. “It’s really for me, Chan, and Jisung.”

You nod, looking back at the water. “I was just a ragdoll so you could get that.”

“Not really,” he whispers. “It was kinda a double positive for me.”

Furrowed eyebrows turn back to him.

“I got the money,” he starts, “and I also got the luxury of pretending to be yours.”

You blink. Your voice is small, barely audible over a gust of wind, “What?”

“Every time I did something stupid that got in between us, I always knew I’d find my way back to you. I was the tide and you were the moon, reaching out and tugging me back into reality. Time and time again, as we’ve come to understand,” he nods, glancing at his red fingers, bitten by the air.

You stare at him. “So why do you keep pushing me away?”

He shrugs. “There was always the fear that you didn’t want to bring me back.”

You scoff, remembering your childhood and the way he kept drawing you closer. You shake your head, words failing you.

“So truly, I am so sorry. You still have your end of the deal, you know. You get whatever you want. You can tell me to fuck off and I’ll go home. Sure, I’d be a little heartbroken, but-”

You cut him off, “Why would I ever do that?”

“Because I treat you like shit to fuel this stupid ideology that you don’t hate me,” he admits. “Even when I don’t try to be, I’m a selfish asshole. I only kissed you because I wanted to, not because of the stupid pictures for the bet. I only asked you for the favor because I wanted to paint this stupid little picture in my head. I only stood you up because I couldn’t bring myself to face you and admit that my stupid fantasy was over.”

“That’s not selfish,” you say. “That’s just very Seo Changbin of you.”

“I really cannot tell if you hate my guts or not,” he sighs, picking up a handful of sand and watching as it trickles down again.

You shake your head. “Minho didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

You look back at the empty space where the ghost once stood. A sigh of a distant nostalgia slips from your lips—the times you’ve pictured this moment over and over in your daydreams. However, you did not imagine the bitter bite of the wind nipping at your cheeks. “That I’m in love with you.”

“You what?” he gawks, leaning a bit closer. As though his ears deceive him.

Your eyes return to his as you nod. “I love you. I probably have since we were kids. That’s the only reason I agreed to your favor. Because I, too, wanted to be a little selfish.”

His lips slowly curl up into a smile as he releases an abrasive laugh. “How much did Minho pay you to say that?”

“He didn’t. I’m being completely honest. Why else would I be here if I wasn’t stupidly in love with you, huh?”

“Really?”

“Yes, now can we speed this up? It’s fucking cold out here.”

He presses his lips against yours. You expect them to mold against yours like they had in previous weeks, but now they are fiery. It sends tingles down your spine as he cups your cheek. With those internal feelings finally suspended from your body, you can sigh a breath of relief.

You wonder if younger you would be proud.

xiii.

“Are you guys actually dating now or are you just fucking with us again?” one of Changbin’s friends, Jisung, asks as you slide into the same booth as a few weeks ago.

“They are,” Minho intervenes. “I watched them confess and everything. Like a minister.”

“Bullshit,” you mutter. “You went back to your car as soon as I got there.”

Changbin’s laugh tickles against your ear as he scoots in next to you.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t revoke the award,” the freckled boy, who you’ve now concluded is Felix, observes.

“Why?” Jisung asks, bringing the straw of his soda to his lips.

“Because we would have had to give it right back.”

His friends are very welcoming of you, despite the deception that marked your first greeting. Chan catches you in the parking lot as Changbin and Jisung fight over the extra mint the server placed on the table.

“I just want you to know,” he starts with a smile, “that he really loves you. It’s not a front, I promise.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you ask, “Those are suspicious words. How should I trust you?”

“Because he talks about you all the time. I know more about your childhood than I know about mine. Plus, he’s written three songs about you and we don’t even have the equipment to record anything yet.”

You laugh, “You’re in luck, then.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why?”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’ll find out.”

Changbin returns to your side, a sullen scowl pressed against his lips as he watches Jisung pop the mint into his mouth. Chan dismisses himself to attend to Felix attempting to teach Minho a taekwondo move.

You look over at Changbin, “You’ve written songs about me?”

His eyes widen, “No? Why would I ever do that?”

A giggle bubbles up from your stomach as you shake your head, starting off to his car. Behind you, he repeats the same question urgently.

xiv.

Seo Changbin is like a pest that flies around your head, begging your attention at all moments of the day. He invited you over to his dorm so you could study together, though when you arrived with your textbook and notes, he appeared offended.

“What?” you asked as you settled on his bed, fluffing pillows before leaning against them.

“Studying doesn’t mean studying, it means cuddling,” he pouted.

It’s lucky for him that Minho isn’t home because if he ever heard those words falling from his lips, he’d never hear the end of it.

So that’s why you’re laying your head on his pillow, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you read over your notes.

“What’s the formula for Newton’s law of universal gravitation?” you quiz him when you feel his arms start to loosen with the temptation of sleep.

He hums, “I don’t know. You’re the one with the strong magnetic force. Shouldn’t they call it Y/N’s law of universal gravitation?”

You sigh, setting the spiral notebook on his nightstand before you turn in his arms to face him. The hint of a smile already greets you. You press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “What’s your grade in physics?”

He looks up at the ceiling as he pretends to think. “38.”

“What?” you hiss, pulling back away from him as though he has an illness you didn’t know about.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he whines, pulling you back. “I only signed up for the class because it reminded me of you.”

You smile. “Why?”

He shyly pouts, “I may have gone out of my way to hear about you when we were in high school.”

“And you never thought to apologize?” you counter, your smile still reigning.

“You looked like you were doing fine without me,” he shyly admits.

“Changbin,” you shake your head. “I had no friends after Minho moved. I chased after you, thinking maybe something would happen.”

He closes his eyes. “Tell me you didn’t see me in Cinderella.”

“I saw you in Cinderella,” you laugh.

He throws his head back and whines. “The pants they put me in were two sizes too big.”

The memory of him standing on stage and having to hold up his pants, disguising it by having his hands on his hips, brings another laugh to the air. “Did they really not have any clothespins or anything?”

“No!” he exclaims, looking back into your eyes. “Fucking Hyunjin was hoarding them all!”

You feel the vibrations of your laugh against the pillow. It’s good being like this, having him tethered close.

He’s in the middle of saying something, probably further pursuing his complaints about high school or Hyunjin, but you do not care. You press your lips against his. A moment of stillness, thanks to his shock, before he kisses you back.

The only word to describe this feeling brewing in your stomach: bliss. Pure, hot bliss.

You hope gravity will keep you grounded here.

130 notes · View notes

starlithan · 3 years

Text

I Promise

Part 4

Siren Han/ Reader (Ft. Choi San ATEEZ)

Word Count:3350 words

Warnings: None so far

Summary: I'm not good at it so lets just begin

prev...….next

________________________________

Part 4:

Minho’s POV:

I can't believe this, why, why of all the people I have to be the one who sees these messed up things?, “you sure that was a mermaid?” I asked the person for like the fifth time, the guy was terrified, “yes I swear it had a blue tail and black hair, and red eyes, I don't know the exact way she looked, do you think I'm crazy too?” I sighed again and rubbed my temple, “no sir, for the last time I don't think you're crazy, trust me they very much do exist.. And I'll take your case and investigate don't worry” with that I got up and left the buzzing coffee shop.

A few days ago if someone told me that mermaids existed id likely slap there face, but now *sigh* id believe them, totally not giving another minute of thought, I walk on the pavement the sun setting on me, mind thinking of my next destination, but my mind was now clouded with weird thoughts

What if Y/n is in danger?

What if I made a mistake in judging Han ?

What if he's the one who's behind all the killing and disappearance?

And why in the world was this all hidden?, why did the police not investigate this, my head was spinning and I realized that I had walked all the way to the beach, obviously I cant investigate this, the murder was like a month ago there might be no evidence, I got to head home, the file was in my hand, the cold breeze was blowing through my hair, unlike Y/n she gets relaxed when the cold breeze hits her but not me i get more anxious of what's gonna happen next.

I got home and just stood before the door for a minute. I needed to collect my thoughts before I saw him.

______________________

Han ’s Pov;

She ran away, SHE LITERALLY RAN AWAY…….. I mean I was kind of expecting it but still, I sigh as my hands go on my neck, did i…. Did I perhaps mess..up?, did she not like it?, or was it too soon?.... Come on Han Jisung, how could you not have read the mood? As I was about to swear at myself again, the door opened, I turned to see who it was and saw Minho Hyung standing outside, glaring at me. I swear if human eyes were replaced with laser beams, I would have been dead long ago.

Taking that as a clue to leave, I turn around and slowly walk to the bathroom. “We need to talk,” He said, “gosh I'm dead” I whispered under my breath “not yet” he said and went outside

ears of a bat .

I followed him outside and we walked for a while, after several minutes of walking Minho Hyung stopped dead in his track, and i did the same, mind filled with endless thoughts of what's gonna happen, he turns around and looks at me, no he stares at me, he gives me a full scan and then opens the file in his hand, and then shoves it in my direction, I take the file and blink a bit.

Why would he give me this?

Putting my thoughts aside, I scan my eyes over it “was it you” he asks, i look up “what?” I ask giving him a full confused look, “wait you cant read” he says and brings his hand forward, but I retreat a bit “I can, we sirens learn how to read and write, for crisis like this” I say “and this file is talking about a mysterious murder at sea by a mermaid, so what do I have to do with it” I ask, He looks at me again, this time with a look of confusion “well your the only mermaid I meat so…. Be honest is it you”

To be honest at that exact moment I wanted to pick up a rock and hit it hard on the nearest jellyfish, but this is not the proper moment to lose it Han so I sighed instead “I really don’t know why humans compare us with mermaids, “look Hyung mermaids and Sirens are different mermaids are scarier and are more close to a fish and we Sirens look more like humans, and I can tell you this was done by a mermaid because mermaids eat human hearts in hopes to become like them they are highly stupid….if you need my help to crack this case I’ll help” I said moving my hands in many ways possible, he looked at the floor and then went in a deep trail of thought, which trust me was a long wait.

“Okay fine I trust you for now, and yes I need your help tomorrow at 5 pm k” I nodded and we headed back. I hope whoever was the victim did not die in the sea or near it

______________________________

Y/n’s POV:

I was startled, confused, happy many emotions in one and who wouldn’t be after that kiss especially, I look at Darong who was sleeping peacefully while I sat at the chair at the corner of my room mind drifting in my thoughts, in moments like these I wanna take a walk by the sea but I can’t cuz he might be sleeping on the couch which is near the door to be honest I don’t have the guts to even pass by there. God. No

If Minho found out about this he is gonna kill him. I shook my head, sweet thoughts Y/n sweet thoughts, I mean by now everyone should know that I’m an over thinker. An over thinker of extreme level. I slowly opened the door and peeked outside to see the lights off, which meant it was pretty dark, so I can slowly sneak out and make my way to the beach.

I do exactly that, in the execution of my plan I slowly tiptoe my way to the door and lucky me I make it, now the challenge was opening the door cuz the damn door makes too much noise for mere simple movement, let’s just hope he’s a deep sleeper, I slowly open the door a little and squeeze my way outside, I close the door and sigh in relief and make my way to the beach and sit down in the cold soft sand.

It’s so peaceful, that I never realized it, suddenly I feel a small sting in my right hand I look at it but can’t see anything, must be a muscle pain I sigh and divert my attention back to the sea, the reason why I’m afraid of the sea is sharks lol I think everyone has the same reason. “It’s nice isn't it?” a voice behind me says I turn around to see my brother standing and smiling with a blanket in his hands, he sits down and places the blanket on both of our shoulders.

“Hey” I say softly as he replies back with a smile “nice to see you enjoying the moment” he says and I smile we both sit there silently staring at the endless sea “what really brings you here if it’s me I should tell you I’m perfectly capable of handling myself” I say he laughs and ruffles my hair “I know, I know and no I didn't come here because of you I was posted here” he says and I give my eyes a little squint to indicate that I don’t believe you “what?” He says laughing, I sigh and look at the sea “I don’t know why they would send Korea's greatest detective to a place where crime hardly happens” I say as I hear him sigh “same I don’t even know too but hey isn't it good I’m here we’ll get to spend some quality family time” he says “yeah” I answer silently.

Then we go back to being silent, after few moments of dead but peaceful silence “if there’s anything that’s bothering you, know that I’m waiting throughout the season” he says and I stop remembering the story of the flower that waited for the Prince through all the seasons, I smile

He remembers

“And I will always be there for you, waiting through all the seasons” I smile and put my head on his shoulder.

“I’m Glad your here”

____________________________

The next day comes by pretty quickly, as we all get dressed up and sit on the table, barely meeting eyes with Han , but I could make out the blush on his face and I chuckle a little, so I’m not the only one.

“I’m hungry what should we eat” after a whole day of being locked in my room reading, skimping breakfast we all sat down to decide what to eat, after moments of brainstorming I come up with an idea “I know a good chicken place here” I say as both Han and Minho’s eyes light up, I laugh a little they look like small puppy’s wagging their tails at the sound of treat.

We all got up and headed to get ready and wear our shoes. The sky was clear today, our walk was as silent as the grave itself but none of us complained.

“We’re here” I announced as I hoped in front of the door, nothing makes me more happy than chicken itself, I pushed the door open and made my way in the shop, the shop was quiet not a soul in sight

Is he not here?

Suddenly a loud thud came from the kitchen and I ran, my first guess was that halmonie fell, my second guess was it was a ghost. As I got to the kitchen San sat on the ground looking at the dishes which were now half broken and half not, “Are you okay?” I said as he looked up at me surprised, I went to his side, “yeah I’m fine, how come your here you should have called me up is everything okay?” He asked as I helped him up, he brushed his knees with his hands, I smiled at the kindness and nodded my head “we came here to have some chicken” I said San placed the last dish in the bin and gave me a questioning look “we?” He asked and glanced behind me to see Han leaning on the door and my brother looking at the now cleaned floor with awe, “uhhh hello Han and…..officer Minho?” He said, I turned to my brother as he smiled and waved at San, “you guys know each other?” Me and San said at the same time to each other, I smiled “yeah he’s my brother” I said, “ohhh well we met at the grocery store he helped me drop some heavy boxes to the shop” he said, which pretty much cleared up everything.

The table was filled with chicken and we all sat down including San, “thanks for the food” we all said and San smiled, the chicken was so good, I reached out for another one but my hand touched something I looked up to see Han ’s hand was upon my hand and his eyes were now on me, I silently withdraw my hands, and stare at my plate, Han picks up the chicken and silently places it in my plate and gets up “Minho Hyung let’s go it’s 5pm”. I stop and for the first after a while I stare at him and then my brother, “where are you guys going?” I asked, Minho got up and placed his chair back “I have something I need his help with, bye San '' he smiled and they left.

“So they look close” San said and to be honest I wanted to laugh at that thought, “you think?” I said as I went back to eating my chicken, San looked up, “what they aren't?” he said but I'll leave him to figure that out

________________________________________

Han ’s POV:

It was now 6, the sun was almost about to set and yet we found nothing, to be honest how could we, the mermaid would have escaped a long time ago, but still we looked around the beach again and again, “I guess that sums up our search, we found nothing” Hyung said and kept on walking at a steady pace, “we still haven't checked out that cave yet” I said and pointed at the cave in front of us, he looked at the cave then back at me, “you sure?” he said and I nodded.

The cave was dimly lit, we looked not to sharply, but found nothing, “let's go home” Hyung said as he sighed, I nodded as we started to head back, when we heard a voice, the voice sounded like someone was struggling, the both of us turned our heads towards the sound, Hyung started to walk towards it when I stopped him “let me” I said as I told him to close his ears as tight as he could, and he gave me a questioning look but did what I said. I opened my mouth and started to sing, a siren's voice can also enchant mermaids/merman's, my words coming out as a sweet command, this was the same song I used to enchant Y/n but it somehow didn't work on her, my voice echoed in the caves, I played with the words and started to slowly walk towards the now quiet struggling sound, and as I thought we found our culprit, a mermaid stuck in a fishnet, her eyes were now yellow gold, hypnotized by my song, with my hand I motioned for Hyung to come, when he came near and saw the mermaid his eyes widened, not at her beauty (cuz they aren't pretty), with that we carried her home still hypnotized.

________________________________

Y/N’S POV:

I came back home tired, but me and San had lots of fun, I walked in and Darong came running but then she stopped and looked at me and then went back “HEY WHO DID YOU EXPECT” I yelled, she must have been expecting Han for sure the two of them are close now I guess, I rubbed the back of my neck, boy was I tired, I went to my room and placed my bag on the bed and went to the bathroom.

I washed my face and stared at my reflection, black hair coming out of my headband a little, I should take a bath. I thought and went to the bath to fill it up, but what I saw there was unbelievable.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

_________________________________

Y/n’s POV:

THERE WAS A FREAKING MERMAID IN MY BATHTUB, I tumbled back about to slip I close my eyes, but that contact with the floor never came I slowly open my eyes to see myself in Han ’s arms, I look up to see wide eyes as if he was in shock, Minho came running “WHAT WHAT!?” he said, as Han lets go of me and I stand up, clearing my throat I look at the creature now glaring and hissing at us, “why is there a mermaid in my bathtub?” I ask pointing at the creature, and looking at Han , he glances at my brother then at the mermaid “well…..ask your brother” he says turning away, Ask my brother, why I mean why would he…

I turn to my brother, and he gives Han a panicked look, then scratches his head “well it's complicated but, there was this unsolved case I got and it involved a certain mermaid killing people, so I asked Han to help me crack it and we found her and so here we are now” he said, his voice getting faint after every word, after that he looks at the ground like I've scolded him for stealing candy or something.

I sigh averting my gaze to the mermaid, “okay fine but .. both of you .. stop looking like kicked dogs” I say as my brother, Han and I head outside the bathroom i carefully close the door, “*yawn* I'm gonna go sleep then, night” my brother says and runs away after ruffling my hair, I blink sometimes i wonder What exactly is happening in his head?.

I turn to look at Han , he was staring at the door, trying to make sense at what just happened, I smile, he looks more paler today, pale and tired, like the stupid idiot I am without thinking I reach up and touch his forehead, he turns to me, when my eyes meat his, I saw those eyes loosing there color and he was definitely cold, way cold for a normal person, or siren.

“Are you … feeling okay..?” i ask he nods and stares at me, his hand comes up, and cups my face, my freaking breath stops, we just stay like that for a minute, suddenly the color of his eyes change to yellow and then back to his normal eye color, he hisses and places his hand on his head, “Hey! Han , Han ” I panic, he recovers quickly and then gets up and heads out of my room, “Han !” I say, he turns around and smiles, “I'm fine” he says and leaves.

I hope he really is alright.

__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__-__

Han ’s POV:

shit , shit, shit, I tumble my way to the sofa, this is bad this is super bad, my head hurts so freaking much, I breath in through the nose trying to calm myself down, but I cant my ears are buzzing and I'm hearing voices.

Born of sea turns to sea form

Born of land bleeds and turns to sand

But cursed to be a part of the sea, doesn't break easily

Does Not remember anything

Love can break the biggest spell

Can tame the curliest of beasts

My eyes widen, these are the same voices I heard when I was a siren, back in the sea, I hiss as the pain sharpens, I rush out of the house and to the sea, breathing I try to concentrate on the cool breeze, the pain stops but I can still make out those voices, like a faint whisper, what does that even mean?.

After a minute or two the voices die down too, and I take a sigh of relief, I take out my necklace, the vile, half or less the half of it was filled, but I had made my decision, I can't and I wont hurt her and at that point it hit me, “Gosh love sucks!!” I sigh and ruffle my hair .

_____________________________

Y/n’s POV:

I hear hissing and mumbling, my eyes snap open and I glance at the time 3:00AM, I sigh, whoever it is better shut up, I get up and focus on the voice and it surprisingly lead me to my bathroom, I carefully open the bathroom door to find the mermaid, her eyes were glowing yellow, just like how Han ’s were, she was saying something, I came near her to see what she was mumbling on about,

Finish the job, kill her, Finish the job…..

She kept repeating that on and on, and then suddenly she goes still, eyes back to their original shape, she looked at me and I could make out tears in her eyes she whispered to which I made out “help me” and she repeated that again and again, I came near her and she suddenly pulled me closer, when I looked in her eyes they were yellow again “seeeeee” she hissed

Flash's came in front of me, moments, all those horrible memories, I tried to escape from her grip or escape from those moments but I couldn't, the more i tried to pull away the more horrible those memories became.

When she finally let go of my arm I tumbled back, my back hit the wall of the bathroom, cold, that's when I realized I was shaking, tears coming out of my eyes.

“You see?” she said

“W-what… a-are you t-t-trying to s-show me?” I ask trembling

__________________________________________

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids reactions #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #han jisung imagines #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids imagines #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfics #ateez #ateez fanfic #choi san

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musichelan · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids reaction: you're a tomboy but you wear a beautiful dress for the first time

i've been putting off this one for a bit because 1) im not sure how to write a tomboy and 2) it'll lean more towards the female but i wanna make it as gender neutral as possible!! i hope you can enjoy it anon!!

bang chan

he was so used to you wearing like a tomboy

and he wasn't expecting you to show up in a dress

you wanted to surprise him during one of your dates

so you picked up a pastel yellow lining dress and wear it

when chan looks up from his phone his jaw drops

you're wearing the softest dress in existance to see him

making you look softer than usual

chan blushes

you look amazing and he's ready to fight the world if said otherwise

throughout the whole date, chan will sneak a glance at you and looks away shyly if you caught him

"take a picture, it'll last longer, " you say when you caught him looking at you for the nth time

chan shyly giggles

and will actually takes out his phone and takes multiple pictures of you

the happiest and shyest boi

minho

minho didn't notice anything different at first

he takes another look when he feels like he had to

than boom

his eyes widen as his brain finally registers what you're wearing

he gulps, unsure of his actions as he gets up from the floor

"baby, what's this?" minho asks

you playfully leave a kiss on his nose, "because i feel like it"

"but you never wear a dress before!!"

"are you saying that i don't look nice in a dress?"

you turn away from minho, feigning hurt

minho quickly pulls you back into his arms, whining

"you look different, that's all! i promise! you look amazing! beautiful! ethereal!" minho throws out every word he can think of

you smile, "i'm just messing with you, min"

"y/n!"

changbin

the first time you wear a dress, changbin was shook

he didn't show it tho

he acts all big and tough in front of you, only telling you you look amazing in your dress

it lowkey hurts you a tiny bit

you want changbin to say something more

little did you know, changbin's fanboying over you behind your back

after the date he just talks about how ehtereal you look in a dress

nonstop fanboying

seriously

to the point where minho secretly records changbin's fanboying over you wearing a dress and sends it to you

with the caption "please collect him, he's being annoying"

you laugh to yourself

you start to blush when you listen to the audio minho records

it looks like the boys are going through this almost everyday

and you decide to go and collect changbin and make him tell you how he feels about you wearing a dress

by the recording minho sent you

hyunjin

to be honest, hyunjin wouldn't be much surprised when you finally wear a dress

i have this feeling where he's always pestering you to wear a dress so you can match during your dates

but you never agreed because dresses are annoying (they are)

hyunjin was happy that he finally manages to get you to wear a dress

he even has his camera ready

he squeaks excitedly when you open your bedroom door

you're wearing a sea blue dress, somewhat like cinderella's dress but shorter

still fairy-like tho

hyunjin starts taking photos

"stop taking photos!"

"i can't, you look beautiful" hyunjin sends you a gummy smile, leaving you even more whipped

the things you'll do for love

jisung

mixed reaction of changbin and hyunjin

but trust me when i say this boi will be more excited than hyunjin

and he'll talk about you wearing a dress in front of you

even praising the grounds you walk on with that dress

he'll make seungmin give you an impromptu photoshoot

cheer you on with the maknae line at the background while seungmin takes photos

jisung is more bubbly than ever that day

he's content with your threats of "never see tomorrow's sun ever again" if he makes you wear a dress again

seungmin promised to help you if it comes down to that

making jisung slightly more worried but he ignores that

jisung is sure he will cherish the photos when seungmin finishes developing them

felix

felix is just throughout blushing

he isn't sure how to react, but he knows he gotta say something

words can't express how he feels

you actually are wearing a dress today

"lix?" felix snaps out of his thoughts

he just shyly giggles before hiding his face in your neck

“you can’t avoid my question like this, lix,” you laugh at your boyfriend’s cuteness

felix only whines more

he tugs slightly at the hem of your dress, muttering something

“what was it, lix?”

“i said, i thought you couldn’t be even more beautiful in the past, but then you look like an angle” felix says, slightly louder

you can feel the heat from felix’s cheeks

you laugh

“this will be the first and last time im wearing a dress, felix lee”

seungmin

seungmin melts when he sees you in a dress

you look like an angle walking on earth, in his humble opinion

photos, so many photos

seungmin will proudly show the photos to anyone who asked to see his s/o

he makes sure you are indeed comfortable with the dress before taking pictures

if you express any emotion that’s near to being upset with the dress

he’ll let you take it down and wear whatever you want

which almost always is one of his shirts

but when you did let the dress to stay on you a little longer

seungmin can’t help but takes more photos

he smiles that gummy smiles of his and is overly soft

you make fun of his every soft state but he ignores it

jeongin

jeongin really can’t shut up

he just keeps up rambling about how beautiful you are

but when you actually wears a dress (a.k.a you’re picking your wedding dress)

jeongin shuts up

you look different

more ethereal than he thought you will be

with the fluffy white wedding dress taking your body so well

his brain short-circuits

no words brain empty

you have to close his jaw for him

“how do i look?” you twirl in front of him, showing off the wedding dress

chan laughs at jeongin’s dumb-struck face

“he can’t form words to tell you how amazing you’ll look” chan answers for jeongin

you giggle at jeongin’s expression

he looks dumb

“pick a sexier one, “ chan whispers, “he looks dumber when you wear those”

it’s true, jeongin looks even dumber when you show up in a tighter wedding dress

that last point from jeongin’s is on purpose, i’ve been having very hard feelings for the maknae ever since god’s menu

#stray kids #reactions #dresses #bang chan #chan #minho #changbin #hyunjin #jisung #felix #seungmin #jeongin #first time wearing dress #fluff #shy bois #cute

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izcana · 3 years

Text

we wish you a merry christmas

12 Days of Newtmas Day 1 Prompt - Canon: Christmas in the Glade

***

Thomas cocked his head to the left, taking in the sight of Newt dressed in a red jumpsuit like outfit and a fuzzy red hat with a pom-pom on the top. Vivid images of evergreen trees decorated with shiny, colourful ornaments; a mug filled with a brown syrup-like liquid, topped up with white, fluffy sugar; flushed cheeks belonging to a little boy whose face Thomas couldn't remember; snowballs being pelted at his window first thing in the morning, the powdery substance exploding at the impact into little flakes, spattering all over the place; and the fresh, sharp smell of ginger from the vaguely shaped-like-people biscuits.

After the quick flash of images, there came a detached video-like clip like view of an old man with a bushy beard dancing in a flashy red outfit decorated with white fur and an obnoxiously bright gold-tinted belt buckle, similar to what Newt wore.

"What?" Thomas questioned, raising his brows. He turned a blind eye (well, not really a blind eye, but you know what I mean) to his blushing cheeks; Newt looked so cute wearing a pom-pom topped hat that bounced whenever he took a step. Sure, the bulging muscles didn't usually inspire "cute" in Thomas' book, but paired with hooded blue eyes that sparkled like the rivers, Newt was beautiful.

"It's Christmas tomorrow!" Newt exclaimed as if offended he did not know. Of course, he shouldn't have known, because he was the Greenie and Greenies only got pieces of their memories back slowly. It wasn't fair for Newt to compare them, but for his favourite Second-in-Command, he could make an exception and let it go.

Well, that, and the fact that he had a Jupiter-sized crush on Newt.

How could he not, though? Newt was perfect: he had a caring personality and he was patient, allowing whomever near a sense of comfort. He could laugh, and his brand of dry humour was a brilliant contrast to the dull order of the Glade. Newt was someone you could depend on, someone loyal, someone selfless who would see himself hurt before his friends. The fact that he had the most amazing tousled blonde hair, a sharp, chiselled jaw, greek-god like muscles, and sharp, sea-blue eyes was just a bonus. A big one, according to Thomas.

Thomas was certain that at least 20 other Gladers had a crush on Newt. He couldn't possibly be the only one drawn to Newt's easygoing demeanour and his dashing looks! He was frankly, surprised that no one had acted upon it, though amongst Minho and he, they had discussed the likely hood of half the Glade being attracted to Newt.

Minho, being straight* himself, was not, but it was not that much of a stretch to figure out that Thomas, in fact, was.

If Minho was being honest, he ought to have expected this the moment Greenie came into the Glade and following Newt around like a lost puppy, but he hadn't. Good thing Thomas told him; Minho would gladly threaten Thomas to not hurt his best friend.

Thomas vowed he would not ("How could I, Minho? I would toss myself off the Cliff before I hurt Newt!") and Minho believed him, but you never know.

If Newt's opinion, which had been obliterated, been included in this, he would've told Minho that Thomas would never hurt him, and he trusted Thomas completely. Though, of course, neither boy asked as Thomas had not the slightest confidence that Newt would want to date him. If again, they had bothered to ask for Newt's opinion, he would've told Thomas that shuck, yes! Of course, Newt wanted to date him!

How could anyone not want to...?

There seemed to be a pattern of misunderstandings here...

––––––––––––––––––––––––

"Come on, Tommy!" Newt whined, pulling at Thomas' sleeve childishly. As you could imagine, the image of Newt's lean but bulky frame pulling Thomas, who was slimmer and much shorter than Newt was laughter-inducing for the patrons watching (i.e. Minho). He was fed up with the whole "dancing around each other" façade. "Live a little! Dress up for Christmas!"

"I hate you, Newt," Thomas snarked back but bulged begrudgingly from his spot, which his feet were previously firmly planted on. Nonetheless, the brunet boy followed the blonde.

Newt smirked, guiding Thomas to the storage room. "Come! Everybody's dressing up!"

"I hate you, Newt!" Thomas groaned again. "Why are we friends again?"

"Because I saved your butt when you were a Greenie, and I still save your butt sometimes, remember?" Newt answered, grinning widely. Thomas rolled his eyes. Of course, he remembered. Trust Newt to bring up the times when he was a Greenie.

Newt, bearing no mind the complaints of Thomas, shoved a wreath and a red/green combination outfit unceremoniously into Thomas' arms. "Put those on ––– do it, Thomas!" Newt ordered when Thomas gave the impression of a frightened doe ready to bolt. "Put those on and come out. It's the only break we're going to get in the Glade, might as well do a fashion show."

Newt might've also neglected to inform Thomas that the reason he was forcing Thomas into the costume was mainly to see Thomas' chocolate brown hair settled nicely with the wreath and the red/green outfit making him seem like a dressed up puppy. He didn't get much chance to see Thomas like that, carefree like a kid such as himself (themselves, actually, but Thomas was younger) should've been.

"Why??" Thomas moaned, but he did as he was told. "Can you get out so I can change, at least?"

From an outsider's perspective, it may appear that Thomas was angry. However, Newt merely smirked. "Nope, I'm watching ya."

"You just wanna see me naked!" Thomas mocked, swaying his hips in a very unrhythmical motion. Newt snorted a laugh from his nose. Thomas was adorable, his butt wiggling eagerly to some imagined song that probably didn't exist, and trying so hard to prove his point.

"Real sexy, Thomas," Newt confessed, making sure to word his tone as a joke.

Thomas had his now-nude back to Newt, but he was certain he saw the brunet's ears turn red. "Y-Yep," he stuttered. "I'm s-sexy and I know it."

Newt thinks I'm sexy? A part of Thomas screamed, but logically, Thomas knew that as much as he wished for it to be real, it was all just a joke on Newt's part. A rather cruel one, too, if Newt had any idea of his feelings (which he did, but no one's telling Thomas that, is he?), he would not be so cruel.

However, Newt's thoughts went the other direction; they went like this: if I tease Thomas, maybe he'd slip up and confess.

I won't blush, Thomas commanded himself, willing the heat from his ears to back down. I won't let Newt see I like him.

He's so sexy, Newt's brain thought. And he doesn't know it. Not enough, at least. Newt had better change that quickly...

"You are sexy," Newt whispered in a husky voice, and a shudder rippled through Thomas' spine. "I want to kiss you until you see bloody stars. May I?"

Thomas grinned impishly, revealing his pearly white teeth. "You may."

With the agreement, Newt swept Thomas up and smashed his thin lips against Thomas' plumper ones, bruising them quickly. Newt's hands found their way towards Thomas' hips, whereas Thomas wound his arms tightly against the nape of Newt's neck. The fine golden hairs tickled slightly, but he had absolutely no complaints about that right then.

(In the end, Newt made Thomas wear the costume and complimented him until his cheeks were flaming like his recently bruised lips.)

***

Just a note to explain the star: I do not believe that Minho is straight, let me just...make that exceptionally clear (and let's not mention the number of Thominho fics I've written about that ), but I needed an excuse as to why Minho wasn't attracted to Newt, and I could not think of another person to ship Minho with who was not either Newt or Thomas. I didn't want this fic to have too much angst, though a little bit is definitely going to happen whether I want it to or not. I mean, logically , I could've shipped Minho with Gally, Ben, Alby, (Teresa, even!) a lot of other people, in fact, but I just can't see Minho with anybody else who's not Thomas or Newt. Therefore, Minho is straight, but let's just get it straight (pun intended) that I...firmly disagree with that statement).

By the way, why does my writing remind me of Jane Austen's style in Pride and Prejudice? Does anyone have that feeling (as in my writing is very...old fashioned)?

#12 days of christmas #12 days of newtmas #day 1 #canon: christmas in the glade #12 days of newtmas 2020 #newtmas #newmas #thomas x newt #newt x thomas #tmr #the maze runner #in the maze #minho ships it

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chloekwon-moved · 4 years

Text

EXPECTATIONS !

SUMMARY :: In which Chloe’s father doesn’t live up to her expectations. CHARACTERS :: Chloe Kwon, Kim Minho, Kwon Hyungsik, Kim Jimin, Kwon Hyeri, Min Yerim WORDS :: 2.5K WARNINGS :: bad parents, crying, mentions of money problems ( if i missed anything let me know ! )

2017 !

Chloe took a deep breath as she stepped off of the subway, keeping her head down in hopes that nobody around her would notice the girl making her way around the city. To say she was nervous would be an understatement. Today was the day, the day she had been waiting for since before she even became a trainee, the day she had been hoping for since she decided to come halfway around the world to become a singer. She was finally meeting her dad. Well, officially, she had, of course met him before she could remember, but in all of her earliest memories, the unknown man was nowhere to be seen.

When her Yerim told her that someone claiming to be her father wanted to get in contact with her, she had been skeptical, but the more information the man had given her made it clear that he was actually the man she was looking for.

Her mother had alway told her that her father went back to Korea when she was little, having to take care of some big company overseas, not having much time to come back and visit. As a child, Chloe had believed her mother’s words wholeheartedly, reciting them back to the mean kids on the playground that would make fun of her for her lack of a father figure. She believed her, she had nothing else to go off of and her child-like brain could only think of that unknown man like some sort of king. She made her way to Korea in hopes of becoming a big start her king-like father could be proud of, making him want to meet her and be in her life for the rest of it. Though Chloe, now seventeen years old, realized that this Kwon Hyungsik person is probably nowhere like the king she had imagined in her head all of this time.

Chloe shook the thoughts out of her head, pushing through the crowds lightly, careful to not turn too many heads, though she could barely contain herself with her fast-paced heart. She felt Minho’s presence behind her, not letting her go anywhere alone, especially to meet a stranger, but also giving her the space to feel like the meeting was something intimate.

Minho was the whole reason she was even able to actually meet up with her father, Yerim being against it since the very beginning, though all it took was one set of puppy dog eyes from Chloe and a sweet smile from Minho to convince the older woman on the sole condition that Minho would be there the entire time. Chloe supposes that it makes sense, though she couldn’t help the small feeling of annoyance at knowing that Minho would be witnessing such a monumental moment for her. Still, she supposes that she should thank the older man for even allowing this to happen. She continued through the crowded streets, reminding herself to do that on their way home.

The small park they agreed to meet at came closer, or at least Chloe expected it to be close with all of the playful screams of children getting louder and louder the more she walked about. It wasn’t too far from the entrance, people milling in and out, kids running all around and Chloe could feel her heart rate pick up at the thought of going into the park, the thought of looking through all of those people to find her dad.

Her mind was heavy with thoughts, Chloe not even realizing she missed the entrance until she felt a body come up behind her.

“Chloe,” Minho’s deep voice filled her ears, pulling her out of her thoughts as he came up beside her, his hand resting casually in his pockets as he looked forward, sunglasses covering his eyes. “Is there a reason you walked straight past the entrance to the park?”

“Nope,” she replied, far too quickly, continuing forward. “I just missed it.”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, nodding his head and Chloe could tell he didn’t buy it. “You know, it’s okay to be nervous, right?”

“I’m not nervous,”

“Of course you aren’t,” he said, not once looking at her and Chloe was grateful for that. “But, if you were, it’s probably very normal to be nervous in this situation.”

Chloe just nodded, continuing to walk around the park, circling it to find the next entrance, hoping she will have psyched herself up enough to walk through the gate. They walked in silence for some moments, Minho knowing that Chloe didn’t want to talk, or at least didn’t want to be pushed to talk about what was going through her head.

Suddenly, Chloe let out a loud sigh. “I just built up this whole idea of him in my head,” she looks over to Minho, who is still staring forward. “What if he doesn’t live up to it?”

The older man just shrugged, finally shooting the younger a look. “He probably won’t,” he said finally, looking back forward. “You can’t expect people to live up to the perfect version you have in your head, that’s just normal.”

“Wow, way to make me feel better,” Chloe muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as she kicked some of the small rocks littering the sidewalk.

“I’m serious!” he replied, holding his hands up in fake surrender. “Do you still want to meet him, even if he isn’t perfect?”

“Yes,” her voice was small and she refused to look at the older man.

“Then why the hell does it matter if he doesn’t live up to this god-like figure you have in your head.”

Chloe thought about it. She had spent her entire life wanting to meet her dad, so what if he wasn’t this rich CEO her mom had put in her head. She just longed for that other parental figure that she missed growing up. Her mom had done a great job raising her, she loved her a lot and put all of her effort into giving Chloe the best life she could, but she could help the part of her that wanted to know her dad was and have him in her life for the first time that she could remember.

She let out a final sigh, nodding her head at the older man next to her, wasting no time to turn around and walk through the gates to the crowded park. Chloe looked around, trying to spot someone who looked out of place in the large sea of people. Her eyes scanned over the people one by one, looking at each person’s face, hoping to see some sort of resemblance between the man she was looking for and her.

“Chloe?” a voice questioned from behind her, stopping her in her tracks as she whipped her head around to look at the source of the new voice.

The man in front of her looked nothing like what she had pictured. Chloe knew she looked like her mother, it was something that everyone who knew her mom from when they were kids commented on each time they would see her, but she at least thought that she would get some of her genes from her father. His wide, friendly-looking face started back at her with his eyes creasing in a warm smile, wrinkles adorning his face much more than she would expect. He was dressed normally, definitely not in the expensive clothes Chloe had pictured ever since she was younger, but it didn’t bother Chloe one bit.

“Dad?” she questioned and she could hear her voice cracking as happy tears welled up in her eyes.

The man in question smiled, nodding lightly before taking the final steps toward Chloe, wrapping her in a tight hug. The hug felt warm and safe and Chloe was surprised with how she didn’t feel awkward in the slightest and the contact with the unknown man.

When they finally pulled away, her father gave her a once over. “You’ve gotten so big, I could hardly believe it was you when I saw you on TV.”

“You watched me on TV?” Chloe felt her heart soar at the idea of her father seeing her performing and being proud of her for doing so.

“Yes,” he smiled. “I was walking past a shop when you were an MC on one of those music shows and I instantly knew it was you, you look so much like your mother.”

“I get that a lot,” she replied, looking down at her feet, a small laugh leaving her lips. The mention of her mother made her shy, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was unsure of the way things ended between them, something her mother never talked about.

She opened her mouth to reply, words hanging on her lips as she stared back at the man she wished she knew far before this, when a high-pitched squeal knocked her out of her thoughts.

“Daddy!” the voice said and Chloe probably would have thought nothing of it if her father’s head didn’t whip around at the sound.

His eyes landed on a young girl, no more than three or four, who was jumping excitedly from her spot perched on top of the large slide, her hands waving back and forth to grab her father’s attention. Chloe didn’t miss the way that her father’s face softened looking at the child, his hands coming up to wave back at her almost instantly.

The small movement felt like a punch in the gut, knocking the wind out of her, her mind filling with so many thoughts she could barely pay attention to the older man turning back to her. His smile slowly dropped when he noticed the look on Chloe’s face as she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the girl who was living the life she craved when she was little.

“So,” she started, finally looking back to her father, hoping she steeled her voice enough for her emotion to be hidden. “You have a daughter.”

“Yeah,” her father replied, and Chloe hated the awkward tension that filled the air around them. He looked back at the young girl, pointing her out to Chloe. “That’s Hyeri, she’s three, and the lady standing by the bottom of the slide is my wife, Jimin.”

The addition of the word ‘wife’ felt like another punch in the gut and Chloe had to stop herself from letting the tears fall down her face. She stupid, of course her father would have a whole new life and family, it’s been seventeen years, after all. Though, she couldn’t help the sting in her heart when she looked at the happy family right in front of her, living the life that she could only dream of as a child.

She was too busy staring off at the happy little family that she missed the beginning of her father’s words, catching a small ‘times have been tough,’ at the end of it.

Chloe felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, her eyes instantly snapping to meet her father’s, where he at least had the decency to look a little bit sheepish, a hand resting on the back of his neck.

“Did you only want to meet me because you wanted money?” the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, tears threatening to spill as she looked at the man before her.

“What, Chloe, no, I,” the man stumbled over his words, and Chloe knew he was looking for something to say that would make him sound better. “I’ve always wanted to see you, Chloe,” he finished lamely, looking down at his feet.

Chloe shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “You never came to visit, you didn’t even call.” her words were biting as she stared at the older man who refused to look in her eyes.

“I-”

“Save it,” Chloe dismissed, looking away from the figure in front of her. “Don’t contact me again, I was better with never knowing you.”

She turned, walking away without another word and it took everything in her to not run into Minho’s arms and break down, but she couldn’t, not until she was out of her father’s sight. Minho didn’t say anything when Chloe walked towards him and she was grateful he could understand that her hard set jaw meant that she didn’t want to talk about it, he would push her about it later, but he knew better than to say anything here.

They walked out of the park, no words exchanged between them as Chloe tried to make it to the subway without breaking down. She only got a good street over before she could feel the tears start to fall. Minho, in his very observant glory, knew what was happening as soon as he heard the first sniffle, placing a hand on Chloe’s shoulder and pulling her off the sidewalk, over to a bench away from the crowd of people walking.

His arms snuck their way around her shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze. Minho’s hug is what sent her over the edge, tears falling and ugly sobs wrecking through her body. Minho never hugged her, they were close and they got along like real siblings, but hugging was something the two barely did. The last time he hugged her was when she couldn’t stop crying once she had to say goodbye to her mother after KCON in New York.

“Are you okay?” he asked, knowing the answer before Chloe even shook her head. He just nodded back at her, knowing Chole would tell him what happened when she was ready.

They sat like that for a good while, nobody even sparing the crying girl a glance as they hustled by on their daily activities. Minho’s arm was perfectly around her rubbing soothing circles as her sobs weaned down into just little sniffles.

“I want to go home,” Chloe said after a long while, her voice still watery from all the crying.

“Okay,”

“No, I want to go home-home,” she told him, her eyes wide, hoping he would understand that she wanted nothing more than to see her mother and let her console her.

Minho nodded, his lips in a tight line as he thought. “Okay,” he replied finally. “Let’s get you back to the apartment and we can figure out what to do from there.”

Chloe nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears off of her face, trying to make herself look at least a bit more presentable, as she followed Minho through the busy streets, hoping to push away any thoughts of her father, knowing the tears would start again if she thought of him.

#bbkoc #kpop addition #kpop au #kpop oc #kpop!au #kpop!oc #kpop!soloist #idol oc #idol au #idol addition #idol!oc #idol!au #idol!soloist #chloe kwon :: dev #chloe kwon :: writing

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honestlyfragile · 4 years

Text

Undertake Pt. 2 - Lee Minho • Lee Know

Originally posted on Ao3 as: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861383/chapters/57579304

Pairing: Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: angst

Tw: NSFW, cheating, smoking, showing of anxiety

Who was the first to take the bait?

Part 1 | Part2

A/n: thank you so much for the anticipation and love that you have given this story. This was my first fic of this genre so it was a great challenge to write! But i hope you all enjoy it ❤️

Minho starts his day normally and attends university, he has not contacted you for a few days ever since he walked out and you wonder why.

The truth is, Minho has been losing his mind over it. But the only thing that keeps him going is his god forsaken pride. He never likes being called a loser, it wasn’t in his vocabulary. He doesn’t know what to do, but is determined to continue and go on with whatever is happening with his life right now.

He parks his car and the moment he gets out, he receives a look that he has never gotten before.

Disgust.

How did he know it was that kind of look? Because he cares so much about his image and what people think. He knows what he wants and what he doesn’t. His tongue rolls in his inner cheek and he raises his eyebrows in confusion. “The fuck was that for” he whispers to himself and locks his car, throws his keys in his pocket and tries to shrug it off.

The closer he gets to the sea of people in the campus, the more he gets of that unfamiliar look. He pulls out his phone to call none other than Chan, asking where he was. The two agree to meet in a certain place, but it meant that Minho had to go through all those looks alone, which made him very uneasy. The fact that he’s guilty about something adds up to his anxiety, but it was beyond what he could imagine. It was something that he doubted people would know, not now.

He hides both of his hands in the pockets of his jeans and continues to walk across them while he sucks in his cheeks and bites it on the inside, his breathing is heavy. His palms turn cold and sweaty despite them being in his pocket, and breaks a small sweat on his forehead. His anxiety was going up the roof and he had to be with Chan right this instant.

Minho finally arrives at the place where Chan had asked him to go, and felt a rush of relief the moment he saw him from a few meters away. He takes his hands out of his pocket and reaches Chan for a hug. His friend immediately felt his fast heartbeat, which shows that it had been challenging for Minho to arrive at their meeting place, which was the rooftop.

“What’s going on, Chan?” Minho runs a hand through his hair and leans on a cemented post, trying to pace his breathing. Chan knew that the reason behind Minho’s heavy breathing wasn't because he was tired, it was because he was anxious.

Chan bites his lip and seethes some air in between his teeth and finally speaks, “They know, Minho. All of them” he shows him a picture of you and Minho kissing in front of your apartment door.Chan immediately prepares himself for Minho’s response.

Minho covers his mouth and punches the wall that he was leaning on, his legs growing weak and giving up on him. There were no other words to put it, Chan knew that he would instantly get what he was talking about. But how?

“What do you mean.” Minho says trying to contain himself, because he knew he couldn’t scream.

“You know what I mean. You wouldn’t want to hear me describe it, you know that.” Chan says firmly, looking at his helpless friend.

Minho buries his face in his hands, tears forming due to the built-up anger towards himself and the situation, Chan lowers himself to help him stand up.

“Please, help me. Help me cover this up Chan I’ll do anything you want. I’ll get you a new car if you want.” He holds both of Chan’s wrists,“Just, please.” Minho says all at once, practically begging Chan to save him from the mess he stirred up on his own.

Chan lets out a deep sigh, “It’s already overdue. Do you really think people wouldn’t find out sooner or later? I’m sorry man I’m out of this. But don’t worry, I won’t make it worse. I’ll keep quiet, that’s all I can do for you.” and with that, Chan was off for his class and left Minho on his own.

Minho later then composes himself. He gets up and brushes the dust off his pants, “You can do this. You’re alright.” he says to himself and takes deep breaths. He fixes his shuffled hair back to the way it was this morning, and wipes his tears that were formed out of anger. He was going to get to the bottom of this. “There’s no time to be a fucking coward now.” He knew he was on his own.

One of the first things that came to mind was Mi Yeon. He had prepared himself to put up an act that it was a mistake, that it was your fault. Because Minho only cares about himself, and not one bit about how you would feel when he throws you under the bus.

He dials up Mi Yeon and paces back and forth as he waits for her to pick up.

“Yes?” She hums on the other line, like usual.

“Baby, where are you? Can we talk?” Minho innocently asks.

“I’m on free cut. The professor didn’t show up, but i’ll be staying at the library. You want me to wait for you there?”

“Yes, please i’ll be on my way.” Minho ends the call and is surprised that Mi Yeon didn’t go ape shit on him, he assumes that she probably doesn’t know about it yet.

Once again Minho prepares to give a cold face to everyone who gives him looks, enough for him to hold until he gets to the library.

“Minho, over here.” Mi Yeon says in a whisper, hoping to not disturb the few students who were also in the library. He nods and heads over to her who had saved a seat for him.

He purses his lips for a moment, thinking of how he could start this terrifying conversation. “Do you know?” he asks, barely looking her in the eyes.

“Hm?” She seems to be unbothered, which was awfully strange. Or is she doing it so that Minho can say it on his own? Mi Yeon knew him too well, he liked other people finishing his sentences off for him.

“Me.. and..” Minho hesitates to say your name.

“And?” She taunts him, she wants to make him finish it.

“Y/n…” He says barely in a whisper.

“Ah, that.” Mi Yeon grabs her pen and pretends to chew on it a little. “Yeah, It’s nothing right?” She raises her eyebrows and continues to write down some notes from her lecture book.

Minho is taken by surprise by how calm she was, “Of course! It was nothing, it was just a stupid dare from a friend. From Chan.” Minho hastily chose his words, even dragging his friend into it.

“Chan? He knew her? Hm, interesting, I didn't think you guys had a common friend, she tells me that she doesn’t really know who you are. I guess she easily forgets.” Mi Yeon casually shrugs.

Minho knew what he said was wrong, dragging Chan into all this when all he did was protect him. Mi Yeon has been acting incredibly strange and calm, Minho didn’t have the best feeling about it but he let it go. How much further can he take his lies when he’s already single-handedly giving himself away?

“Do you have anything else to say? Aren’t you late for your class?” Mi Yeon says, seeming like she was in a hurry to send him away.

“Oh, um yeah that’s all. I’ll get going I guess.” He awkwardly stands up and leans forward to kiss her hair.

“See ya” Mi Yeon smiles and sends him off. ______________

Chan receives a call from an unknown number but answers it anyways.

“Chan?” The familiar voice rang.

“Mi Yeon ssi?” He says, unsure.

“Yes, it’s me. Are you free this evening?” She asks out of the blue.

Chan hesitates, he has always been casual with her, but he wouldn’t really consider her as a friend. “Uhm, not that I know of. Why?”

“Nothing much, I just wanted to treat you for a meal. Exams are coming up and I know you’re very diligent in your studies…” She trails off.

“Oh, well sure! I’m in. Where do I meet you? My class ends at around 5:45.” Chan finally agrees.

“Alright, meet me at the school parking after you get out of class. You know my car right? I’ll wait for you.” Mi Yeon smiles through the phone and ends the call.

As soon as the call was dropped, Chan wanted to text Minho about it, but he decided not to. Because his friend might get the wrong idea, it was just a harmless meal.

His classes for the day finally end and he heads over to where he was going to meet Mi Yeon. He spots her on her phone while leaning on her car and calls out her name. “Mi Yeon ssi!” He waves and her head perks up. She slides her phone back into her pocket and greets Chan.

“Lets go?” Mi Yeon says as she unlocks her car.

“Are you sure you wanna drive? I mean-” she cuts him off and insists.

“It’s alright.” She smiles.

Chan nods and goes to the passenger seat and buckles his seat belt, so does she. Chan looks around the car and out the window, trying to eliminate the awkwardness between them . “Nice ride.” He compliments. Mi Yeon chuckles and drives off.

The car ride was quiet for a few minutes. He had left it to Mi Yeon to decide where she would take him to eat. Until moments later, he notices that she had driven off into an unfamiliar road.

“Wah, is this a shortcut I’ve never been-” again, she cuts him off. But in a different way this time.

“You know what i hate the most?” Mi Yeon says, her eyes on the road and her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

Chan gulps and stirs lightly in his seat. “Are you alright?”

“People who cheat. And people who enable their friends to do so.” She says, ignoring Chan’s question. She chuckles, gradually picking up the speed of her driving. Chan’s eyes grow big and he gulps. He carefully tries to check the lock of the door until he discovers it’s on child lock.

“Mi Yeon listen, we can talk about it okay? Please slow down.” Chan tries to stay as calm as possible because Mi Yeon, was not.

“God, I just want all of them to disappear!” She shouts and steps on the gas even more, driving beyond 100 miles per hour. Chan was terrified, he didn’t expect her to be like this. She had always been bubbly and kind.

“Mi Yeon please please calm down, pull over for a while and let’s talk about it.” Chan tries to convince her but she doesn’t listen.

He pulls out his phone and Mi Yeon notices it, “Don’t even think about it.” She threatens him. Which had left him with no choice but to obey her. He was scared as hell.

Chan had become dizzy as moments were passing by, he couldn’t convince her to pull over and he had no idea where they were. “Mi Yeon please, my head hurts. I’m feeling nauseous. Please pull over.” He pleads.

“You think I care? You’re just as bad as he is.” Mi Yeon shakes her head. A few moments later, she steps on the brakes very abruptly, making Chan hit his head against the headrest. “Get out.” Mi Yeon says, and his breathing is heavy.

He looked around and there was nothing to see, he didn’t know where he was, and unable to hold it in, he threw up on his seat, making a mess of himself.

“I said, get out! Don’t make a mess in my car you fucking turd. You kept telling me to pull over, here we are. So get out. Don’t ever involve yourself with him anymore or else this isn’t the only thing that you’re getting.” She jeopardizes him, leaving him with no choice.

He immediately takes off his seatbelt and gets out of the car to throw up some more, they were in the middle of an empty expressway with no rescue points. Before Chan could even look at the car again, Mi Yeon had left him in the middle of nowhere.

________

Minho thinks of a person who could have possibly spread all this and he stops dead in his tracks when he remembers the conversation that he and Chan a few weeks ago.

“watch your back. Stop treating your side chick like shit or else telling your girlfriend is the first thing on her list.” Chan casually shrugs his shoulders.

There was only one thing to do. Minho was mad and desperate, and he had to have someone to blame, it was you.

He rushes over to his car and immediately heads to your apartment, not scared of being caught because in his thoughts, it could have only been you who had done such a thing.

He arrives and aggressively knocks on your door, rather, banging it with his fists.

You get up from your couch hurriedly as you were startled with the noise and peak through the peephole. “What the fu-“ you say, but before you even finish, he throws himself right in.

“You fucking bitch! How crazy do you have to be to start shit with me? What the fuck do you want?” He shouts at you and pushes his palm against your shoulder, making you fall back slightly.

“The fuck? I was going to ask you the same thing. I didn’t fucking do it!” You raise both of your hands in defense, because you really didn’t.

“Stop lying to me, If you didn’t do it then why did you make friends with Mi Yeon?” He asks, his veins popping out of his neck and the color red flushes out of his skin.

“Who are you to tell me who i should be friends with? Our friendship has nothing to do with you! You always think that everything I do has something to do with you!” You press your fingers on his chest. “You think the world is gonna stop spinning if it doesn’t,” she taps her finger once, “Include you.” Then twice.

Minho grabs your wrist and throws your hand away from his chest, he could not think of anything to say. “Fuck you.” He says, his breath seething in anger and leaves.

Once again Minho’s ego was thrown off a cliff and he hated it so much. He gets into his car and lets out a scream and hits his head against his steering wheel multiple times. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He hits his car horn and makes a fuss in the peaceful neighborhood, and lights up a cigarette.

He speeds off to god knows where, and you were left at home wondering who could have done such a thing when you had tried to be so discreet about it.

You go to your kitchen and get yourself a glass of water for your throat that has gone painfully dry. You start to breathe heavily and your heartbeat sped up. You honestly thought Mi Yeon was a good friend, you never had the intention to ruin your friendship because of Minho. In fact, he shouldn’t have been in the picture. He was nobody.

But you couldn't help it, you felt so guilty and knew that Mi Yeon deserved to hear something from you. You finish your glass of water and rushed to grab your coat and decided to head to her flat.

You anxiously wait for a cab and once you are able to catch one, you immediately tell the driver her address.

“Thank you.” You say to the driver and pay, quickly getting out of the vehicle.

You enter the lobby and register your name and head to the elevator. You bite your nails out of nervousness and try to pace your breathing. Your mind was blank and honestly didn’t know what to say to her, all you could think of was apologizing.

You arrive at her floor and head to her unit, your hands shake as you try to ring the doorbell.

And fair enough, she answers the door. “___, what are you doing here? Come in.” She says in a concerned manner. Which confused you because you expected her to yank your hair, or like throw you off the floor. Anything but this.

You break at the sight of her, you drop to the floor and kneel in front of her, your forehead touching her feet. You start to sob. “Mi Yeon, I’m so so so sorry.” You manage to choke out.

Mi Yeon chuckles. “I can’t believe it worked.” She says and crosses her arms.

You raise your head, your tear stained face looking up at her. What does she mean?

“What worked?” You asked. You were so lost.

“You took the bait.” She shakes her head in disbelief, still managing to laugh in an absurd manner.

“It was you? You spread it? Y-you knew?” You say trying to stand up and wipe your tears. You couldn’t believe what was happening right now. “But why? Why did you-“

“Because I knew at least one of you would break.” She smirks and jerks her head to the side. As if she knew someone would be coming.

1, 2, 3. He barges into her apartment.

“I'm surprised you took longer than her, coward.” Mi Yeon says to a mess of a person who was Minho.

—-end—-

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

all the hearts in the sea

title: all the hearts in the sea pairing: song minho/reader genre: cruise!au/strangers to lovers!au/chef!au/comedian!au summary: with the microphone pressed to his lips, the comedian song minho delivers the best stand-up shows in the entire cruise and even outside of it. much to his delight, however, even the chefs in the kitchen enjoy his shows—one of them in particular, the head chef, even involves him in a rendezvous of falling in love and then leaving their hearts to the frenzy of the sea. type: angst/fluff/romance word count: 8747

These nights are blinded by soft lights, in hues of gold and yellow, falling on him when the crowd stares, listens, laughs and connects.

These nights, his fingers hold tighter on to the microphone in his hand, parting his lips to mock life and make it a joke, to hear people become one with issues and suddenly laugh them out. For a moment, everything is happy, even when Minho can feel his stomach churning slightly at the reminder that he is on the sea, in a cruise, talking to a group of people while surrounded by the deepest source of imagination that the world can give. These nights, he feels free for once—like talking into a microphone has never been more personal and yet, so empowering.

His suit is tight, brown with cream details, perfectly suited for his long and skinny figure, the fabric rubbing against his legs with each step he gives. The stage is his home for once, the dinner tables all set for those who visit the ship’s restaurant, all individuals clearly coming from places of wealth. Minho believes he has already seen watches contrasting the color of the chandeliers to fall upon his brown eyes in sources of reflection, legs crossing and showcasing shiny shoes, polished to perfection. Everyone is lying to themselves for a month, for these nights become easier the more he realizes he is not on the ground waiting to be judged. The water makes him fearless, more mature, connected to his funny side and yet, giving a show.

A comedian—his father’s nightmare when Song Minho told him that his addition to the family name was to stand on a stage and make people laugh. A class clown but for adults, he was called a thousand times, and it will happen a thousand more…yet, he remains unbothered. Slowly but surely, he is building his own empire, growing away from that tiny apartment that had once welcomed him and his three roommates, now completely developed into a new man. A person that people look up on the internet, a stand-up wannabe and yet, one of the youthful promises of such a career.

The man that had once loved the free beers of local comedy bars is now in a ship, drinking the most expensive of champagnes, basking on the soft alcoholic drink. Better yet, he is willing to spend his time after his big comedic show eating in that same restaurant he performs at, a fork working on his food, slicing it with fervor to fill his stomach when he hears an unpleasant noise. Clanking of pots, really.

The clanking of pots becomes duller, a faint bang in the air that has Minho looking up from his excellently decorated plate and he wouldn’t have cared for the noise if it wasn’t for the comment that was spoken into the air in the shape of a feminine voice.

“This doesn’t even look like a ratatouille!” The thing is—cooks are definitely passionate and bound to scream. He has watched the plenty of shows that give out the reality of a chef or a baker, all in their own heads when it comes to pleasing the individual on the other end, always putting their clients first and their workers second. Minho can understand this, but what he can’t understand is the quite audible words this woman lets out. “This looks like Amebiasis in a plate. This looks like diarrhea. Do it again.”

It’s worrisome; not because he is eating ratatouille—thank God he isn’t and his taste is leaning more towards the casual side today—but because he is eating there. Everyday. The head chef saying that with such certainty immediately brings him up to his feet, now pushing his plate forward with a push of his lips, suddenly distasteful to him. His brown eyes look up, watching the opened space that is supposed to be the window that communicates the workers with the chefs, the clients with the food, and his mind is made up in the matter of seconds. Confidence, the comedian exudes, fixing his suit on the way there and not caring that he left his table completely alone, moving with certainty before tapping his long fingers against the bell that the waiters and waitresses touch, only to watch a blonde haired man peak his head from behind one of the doors, widening his eyes at the sight of the man in front of him.

The man inspects him, the chef that is, fixing only a few curly strands touching the surface of his forehead, barely painting a smile on his features when he pushes his weight forward. “Can I help you with anything?” The chef asks, crossing his arms on top of the counter, staring at Minho only to watch the man let out a soft breath.

“Can I talk to the head chef?”

Hissing, the blond answers him. “She’s not in a good mood.”

“Please?” Minho doesn’t know how to act in these situations, but he just wants to complain, or at least give an earful to the chef. Amebiasis is definitely not something you want to hear as you eat in a restaurant, stuck in the middle of the ocean in some ship. Luckily, the blond chef turns around to call out someone’s name, one that Song Minho picks up easily, watching carefully when a woman turns around.

She is wearing a short chef-hat, definitely not the elongated type that he expected to see, in a black color and tight enough to cover her hair. Her face seemed to be void of makeup, the thin layer of sweat indicator of the heat inside the kitchen, her voice concealed by the sound of meat being fried, whisking all his attention away. Her body could barely be seen in the equally as dark uniform, tied around her waist and still, not enough to give away more of the woman behind those pieces of clothing. “...May I know why you are calling me, sir?” That voice, indeed, is the same one he had heard. He’s good with sounds, captivating a note and keeping it, recognizing a vibrato and highlighting it in some corner of his brain. Minho may not be the brightest, but he’s definitely witty when it comes to sound. A performer, over all.

He sighs. No matter how pretty this woman could be, lips rosy from biting on them, he can’t stand people with overly wild personalities. “Excuse me, I heard you were saying something about a meal having Amebiasis and it definitely caught my attention. I will complain to the captain about such thing if that is the case.”

She stops playing with the collar of her shirt, pressing his extended palms over the counter when a gasp leaves her lips. “Oh no, sir, that was sarcasm—”

“Trust me, I know a good joke. That isn’t one.”

“I...I was just scolding one of my chefs. You can trust me with the fact that we take hygiene very seriously in this place.” The tone of her voice, as if she is about to break, like her dream is in the line and fear is all she can understand at the moment, should be a clear sign that she may be telling the truth. Minho, however, cannot fathom to imagine a woman like her, such sweetened gaze turned into a demon when something is not done right in the kitchen. He had heard of Gordon Ramsay, but she may be even worse. “I can guarantee that, sir. There is nothing in here. The ratatouille was just poorly decorated, see.” She reaches for something, a plate standing in his line of vision, definitely looking like it was just put there for the sake of it, too liquid to even qualify as a meal that is not soup or anything of the matter. “She’s a newbie and she did this. I’m trying to teach her a lesson by telling her it looked wrong. Instead of texting, she should be trying harder. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable, sir.”

He quirks an eyebrow, thick and defined, nodding his head along with her words. “I understand.” He says, squinting his eyes before pressing his hand to his chest. “Not a good joke, though, I almost had a heart attack.”

“Sorry.” She apologizes again, stealing a glance at him with careful eyes, as if being caught would be a sin and she’s already saving a spot in hell. “I’ll leave the jokes to you.”

“Do you know who I am?” He asks interestingly, now completely forgetting the cold meal that rests on top of the table he had once taken. Minho’s mind is settled in fame, wanting the gold and the diamonds, the recognition, the hard work that comes with it, too.

Shrugging her shoulders, she starts speaking: “It’s hard not to. I have to hear people laugh at your jokes whenever you perform here.”

“But do you listen to the jokes yourself?”

“If I have time,” She admits. “I have twenty-five people under my watch. Three of those are bakers. I have to constantly work from morning to night while in a ship and some of my workers are afraid of the ocean, so...I have to...just pay attention to everything.” A short chuckle leaves her, as if amused by the simplistic touch of reality. Everyone is busy; he is, and she definitely is, too, and yet no one does anything to stop the world. Everyone is seeking for that happiness they crave for, however, they never stop to stare at the beauty of the world. Quick. Fast. To never stop is a dream. “Not that you care. I can definitely respond to your issue with an apology and I could invite you in to see our work progress and how clean we are—”

Minho, maybe, is not the type of man for confrontation. He is not the type of person to speak to the manager, and he’s not going to start doing it when he sees the clear business and stress painted on her face. “I trust you. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Song?”

“I am.” He lets his eyes take in the sight of her, the absolute workaholic vibe that bleeds through her pores and becomes one with the air around her. “I will let you continue with your job now.”

“I can offer free dessert as an apology?” She asks, only to have Minho shaking his head.

“I’m tired and should head to bed right about now, but thank you.” He confesses, nodding his head after patting his hand against the counter. “Thank you for your hard work. The meal was delicious.”

Strangely, it sounds like he is never going to hear from her again. It’s definitely an exaggeration, they are in a ship together for about a month, the amount of time the cruise lasts, but they are too busy with their own lives to even pay attention to what the other is doing. With a hum, she thanks him, leaving to stay with her team while he gets out of the restaurant, not without taking a look over her shoulder.

At least, she looks more tranquil now than how she sounded earlier.

🚢

The sea has never been quite as awake, as turbulent or as uneventful.

He knows it by the way his bed had moved the slightest when he had woken up and how everyone seems to be locked in their rooms while he is out, inspecting the place, aware of how dangerous it is to stay outside and simply stare at the world going crazy in its biggest form: water. Instead, he concentrates on the sounds around him, not pleasant in any way, someone’s emptying their stomachs, quite clearly, vomiting to the ocean and giving less than a beautiful sight when he realizes who exactly it is.

A chef should never be known for what she is—an irony, from what he can tell. In this incredible cruise, home of eventful nights filled with entertainment, meals prepared by the most gourmet of chefs, and yet, it is clear as day she is not enjoying herself. Her hands cling to surround her stomach, trying to keep her pained expression on the low, but the frown in between her eyebrows is a telltale sign of her distaste. Once seated on one of the near chairs, she finally looks up and noticing one of the few people there—Song Minho, perhaps not known to her by name—is just exactly what she needs to change her face from one of distance to one of complete and utter embarrassment.

He trusts his power in attraction. Minho knows and feels that he is a good-looking man, for he has created smile on faces, been the reason of bitten lips and muffled words, of moans, groans and heartbreak alike. In his realm of comedy, he realizes life doesn’t take him so seriously, either. He either has to have fun or rot in the depths of the world, unknown by the majority, if not all, of its individuals. So, in hopes of lightening up the atmosphere of turbulence and given indigestion, Minho cuts the silence by nearing her with a smile on his face.

“Are you dying?”

He says that when he sits by her side and finally, when she looks up, he realizes that her chef clothing is really what makes her the woman he has seen a few times ever since their last encounter, the only verbal one, too. This time around, she is simply wearing cozy clothing, a sweater that is too long, leggings that look a bit old and her hair done in an incredible mess. “Out of all the degrading things I have done in my life, I pretty much can say that vomiting into the ocean is one of them.” She is careful not to speak to his face, mindful, instead settling on resting her hands on her knees and simply keeping the conversation as he studies her features. Everything about her screams serious, extremely so, to the point he wonders if she has ever given a smile.

“Hey, it could have been worse. I was the only one here to watch it.” The apple of his rounded cheeks lift up in a smile when he leans back on the seat, splaying his hands on the spacious spot behind him. “The worst thing that could happen is that I use this moment for the theme of one of my stand-up nights.”

“How many jokes can you make about a chef vomiting into the ocean?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he answers. “I can figure things out.” His body, mind and soul are set into making her smile, bringing the angles of her mouth up and jutting her bottom lip down into a perfectly placed chuckle. It never happens, though he sees a glint of thankfulness in her eyes when she finally looks at him. Sweetened is her gaze, the nightmare of a dentist with how dulcet it is, tranquil and peaceful as well. “Not to get in your business, you may think I am a dick by now, but…” Trailing his voice, Minho continues. “I have seen you out of the kitchen like five times in the entirety of the two weeks we have in this cruise and I have never seen you smile.”

“It’s hard to smile when you get seasick, like, nine times out of ten.”

Minho raises his eyebrows at that, thick and full with the expression of his curiosity. “Well, you shouldn’t have gotten a job as a chef in a cruise if it would get you so sick.”

She tilts her head to the side, neck showed and expanded for him, enough to highlight her jaw and her sickened expression. Luckily for him, the life she possesses seems to be going back to her features with every moment that passes. “I had to run away from the real world for a while.” She whispers, like she doesn’t want anyone to listen, and when Minho’s expression changes from curiosity to light worry, she breaks their gazes away. “I—It’s stupid, don’t even listen to me.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“You’re a comedian. How do I know you’re not going to make fun of me?” Fixing the sweater that fell off her shoulder, she asks, only to have Minho shaking his head.

“Comedians make fun of things that don’t offend others. At least, real ones do.”

“Mhm, I guess that would be true.” She indicates, her eyelids fluttering when she looks down once again, this time standing up from her spot and interlocking her hands in front of her. He swears that if he looks for long enough, makes out the features of her face with more integrity, knowing that there is more to beauty than what he sees, he can make out the shape of her smile. Art, the abstract type, the colorful yet blocking type that he enjoys. Difficult to understand, funny and ironic to the one who doesn’t know what art is. “But I will not tell you.”

The look on her face must be funny, finally bringing a smile out of her when he parts his slightly plush lips comically. Like himself. “…Is it because I didn’t pat your back when you were vomiting?”

“Not exactly.” She comments, taking the time to let out a chuckle before blinking softly. “I have to go back to work, that’s just all.”

“Oh, I see…” But Minho can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Nothing is weirder than this woman, like his mind can’t wrap around her, because he can’t even actually pinpoint something about her. Nice yet complicated, so closed up a jail would envy the security system of her heart. Wall after wall after wall. “Is that a lie just not to tell me what’s bothering you?”

Nodding her head, she affirms what he just said. “Yes.” She adds. “If I learned something in my life is that kind eyes don’t often hold the kindest of souls, and you have...you know, very understanding eyes.” The compliment, just like her, seems to be out of place. They are two complete strangers, met in the most obnoxious of ways, in a cruise and yet so unlike any romance story ever developed there. “I’d rather get out of that mess while I can.”

“Geez, thanks for calling me a mess.” Patting his hands against his thighs, he replies, standing up on his own when she laughs briefly.

“Sorry, it’s not what I mean.” She licks her lips before pressing them together. “I’m not good at explaining things.”

“I can tell.” Minho adds, bringing his hands up in the air to showcase the fingers that are usually wrapped around his comedic microphone. “But I’m not asking for answers just yet. If I have to know, I’ll get to know eventually.”

The lights in the sky reflect on her eyes, holding a universe in them by the time she nods at him. “We’ll see about that.”

“I hope you feel better soon.” It is an excellent way to finish the conversation, the exact reason why he had approached her, and just when he sees something natural—like the thankfulness in her gaze—, she cuts him out.

She turns around, movement to her hips and her steps, a bit dizzy and hazy, though her words are spoken in that same soft tone, used when asked about her endeavors in the cruise. “Thank you for staying with me.”

He actually smiles to himself, thinking…what a fucking strange, yet cute, woman.

🚢

Partying is definitely part of the cruise experience, the part of Minho’s personality that bleeds when there is a bit of sugar and alcohol playing on his body, dancing fluidly along with him to the beat of whatever song is playing in the background.

The people around him gather, watching the strenuous show with dancing individuals and a perfectly matching singer, pipes going on for days with delicious low notes. Some are enjoying the facilities of food cooked by the staff, others are simply drinking their hearts out and the vast majority are enjoying the show. Carnival-like colors paint the cream walls with decorations, mixing elegant with casual, and he is in the latter spectrum, finally using the type of clothing that represent him best—baggy, fashionable, definitely outstanding for the occasion as he moves through the seas of people, sometimes embarking in conversation, other times simply getting lost in the music.

This is the type of life he is building himself to live. The clubs, the parties, the public appearances and becoming more than a simple dot in society. Minho is getting bigger with the passage of time and whether he is overwhelmed or not, he doesn’t know. He tries not to think about it, but his head gets filled with the idea of wanting to pride himself…doubting if, in the long run, this is what will fulfill him.

Is being a public figure all he wanted?

Shaking his head, he runs his fingers through his hair, rough against his fingertips after bleaching it so bluntly. His lips wrap around the edge of his glass, hearing the conversation he is establishing with some of his new friends in the cruise, from all around the world and bringing some kind of different view for him to perceive. For a moment, he is all about concentrating on the task at hand, responding with a joke, laughing to his heart’s content, simply vanishing the sight of the soft hearted Minho he truly is and welcoming the side of him that has always existed, yet had not fully developed to egocentrism. The less complicated side of him, simply coexisting in order to be the same, copy and paste of the typical enjoyments.

What he doesn’t expect, naturally, is to see the chef that he knows the tiniest bit about looking like she actually knows what she is doing. She sells the food excellently, inviting people to try new things, a smile on her face like it had never left her, and once again he is entranced, complicatedly trying to figure out just what the fuck she is trying to be. His brown eyes inspect her from a distance, parting his gaze every now and then, and when the hoard of clients is finally away, he expects the smile to fade away, yet, it stays. Faint, as always, like she is halfway there to being truly filled with joy, but it grows with the passage of time. The more he sees her, the more she smiles.

The first thing he guesses is that the compliments fuel her, they are her source of happiness, but he has no way of knowing. Their conversations are always cut short by responsibility; his with the social world, hers with pans and foods. They are far too busy and yet, her walls are too high for him to ever reach.

Maybe, Minho should just let it go. She may be attractive to him, but no level of attraction is ever worth this much confusion.

…Then, why is it not surprising when he starts walking towards her?

Stupid, he calls himself mentally. Instead of being attracted to the least complex parts of life, he dives head-deep in whatever it is that means when he touches her shoulder, the brief tap of two fingers against her scapulae enough to capture her attention. When she looks behind her, the smile doesn’t disappear, it remains there with those awestruck eyes that he can’t quite pinpoint. Perhaps, the glossiness of them comes from a place of deep sentiment, or she was simply one of the most gorgeously crafted people he had ever met in his life.

“What are you offering today that is good?” Minho asks, not even missing a tempo to lean against the wall and look at her as she works. The uniform does not fit her snugly, but the white color definitely contrasts well with her skin tone. Her eyes rake up and down his face, taking in his elongated features, his thick eyebrows and his long and skinny nose before licking her lips softly. If he did not know better, he would guess that there is some kind of mutual interest, masked in complete timelessness.

“Well, for one, everything.” She comments, enough to earn laughter from him when she takes a plate in between her fingers, showing what seems to small tarts, calling out for his attention in their perfectly baked state. “But you seem like you want something sweet, so I will offer this.”

“I’ll take it,” His fingers wrap around the edges of the tart before taking a bite of it. He doesn’t mind speaking with his mouth a bit full. “But some say I’m already sweet as it is.” He tries joking around, typical nature of what Song Minho would do—and it may be stupid with her, considering that she is no more than just another woman that fills in the voids of her life with absolute terror simply to keep people away from her. He understands her, however, there is darkness with every source of light.

“I can see why.” She answers, promptly fixing the sleeves of her uniform with glee written all over her face. Compliments must have brought a sufficient am0unt of happiness for her to enjoy such a loud night. “Don’t you get tired of trying to sugarcoat me?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good.” She answers, hissing after her laughter before he interrupts her once again.

“Are you tired of it?”

“…I wouldn’t say tired, more like curious.” There she is, the part of her that doesn’t seem robotic, like she actually looks at life like a test. A quiz of sorts. Minho’s fingers rake through his hair, a habit by now, taking the time to nod at her words even when his muscles pull at his forehead, creating a few lines and lifting his eyebrows. “What makes you so interested in getting to know me? I’m just a chef.”

The sugary treat leaves a trail on his lips, one that has him sighing in delight by the time he comes up with an answer. “You’re not just a chef. You’re one of the best cooks I have ever met.” He confesses, taking the time to pause just to tease the matters. After all, it is the first time he hears such interest from her. “And why are you interested in knowing why I want to get to know you?”

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she chuckles. “That got me dizzy.”

“It’s the point.” Minho joins in her laughter, eyes creaking at the corner like they always do, skin gleaming in its golden and rich state. He screams wealth now, on the way there, while she looks significantly humbled. Sometimes, he fears what international fame could do to him…if he will stay the same at all. Popping a strawberry inside his mouth, however, works as a way to push the thought away when he locks one leg behind the other and answers. “You’re cute. And…complicated, just not to say weird. I like that.”

“You must be joking.”

“Why would I be?”

“That’s the most high-school comment ever.” She replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “Cute and weird. Am I a pet?”

He shakes his head while watching her serious expression, his flirty smile falling when he utters a quickened: “No, that’s definitely not what I mean—”

“That’s the compliment you’d give to someone’s dog.”

“You’re not a dog. I—You’re misunderstanding.”

A smirk plays on the edge of her lips, barely seen by the distressed Minho until he finally realizes it is there. She looks at one of her clients once again, giving out some snacks before she speaks once again, brief in its approach, heavy in the way it settles on his chest. “Gotcha.”

Normally, he is the one joking around—prepared for that since the moment he was named the class clown in elementary school, but now that he is older and visibly flirting, he is notified by how he is not as sleek as he makes himself to be. “Oh, so you’re joking now? Last week, you couldn’t even tell me why you’re working here and now you’re dropping jokes?”

“Serious matters are not this fun to talk about,” She mentions, taking one look over her shoulder to see him still standing there. “By the way, don’t you have a number of socialites to be talking to instead of talking to me here?”

Once again, Minho shakes his head. “I want to be here.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s the first time I hear you speak more than five sentences.”

“Well, I’ll shut up now.”

When she starts to pick up the empty plates to take them to the kitchen, leaving her staff in charge for the clients, Minho picks up his step, rushing after her when he moves beside her. Something about her is hypnotizing and while he doesn’t consider himself the most brilliant of people, he feels like he is even dumber around her, like he never flirted with anyone in his life, when normally he is a master at doing such thing. “W—Wait, no, let’s keep talking.”

“About what?” She asks, not sparing him a glance but with amusement playing in her tone.

“About everything.” He says when he watches her press her back to push the door open, using his hands to help her out just so she doesn’t drop the plates.

One hand rests on her waist when she speaks up once again. “You’re not going to give up, aren’t you?”

“…Only if you want me to.” Minho indicates, his warm fingertips touching hers when he takes the plates in his hands and places them neatly in the dishwasher.

“You’re lucky I don’t.” She replies, like there is no longer venom in her tongue and all she wants to do is enjoy herself for a night. “But I have to work though.”

“I’ll help you with that. Everything and anything.”

“What recipes do you know?” She asks professionally, fixing the hat over her head when Minho simply spares her a smile.

“Ramen.”

She blinks toughly, keeping her eyes closed when she scoffs and laughs at the same time. “Oh, lord. I’m doomed.”

“You’re the talented one though—”

“And what are you supposed to be?”

This time around, he is the one that acts smug, his eyes twinkling when he says. “The one to compliment you, of course. A woman like you deserves no less than that.”

And that brings the first embarrassed expression out of her, the first of the night, absolutely flustered by his dumbly and persistent flirty comment.

🚢

“Great show.”

With the pitter patter of steps following him towards the stage, he finally looks away from his phone to cast a glance at the head chef in the middle of the empty restaurant. Only two more weeks of this cruise, pressure being put on his shoulders when he is reminded of how great he has to do in order to earn himself a name. He wants to make every night of presentation worth the time, innovative and memorable. Some people are already doing that job without performing, however, her hair neatly hid under her hat as she locks her arms over her chest. An angel, he would call her, face void of makeup, smile hidden in the assumption of stress and of course, her tone is kept at a low for her workers not to hear her. They probably are already aware that they have been talking nonstop after every show.

Normally, he is the one to get close to her—the one who waits until no one is there to finally earn some minutes of conversation. However, this time around she nears him, like it has become a habit for her, too. The chandelier masks her expression in its usual enigmatic and romantic mysteriousness, and it has Minho wondering, more like asserting himself in his imagination. She is never going to be his.

She will never trust anyone enough to speak in her own voice, with her own light and her own tone. She will only fuck him up, he says, the type of woman Minho’s mother has given him advice about, basically playing them as demons disguised as beauties—

People who will never accept love because they can’t give it back.

“Always.” Minho comments, sending a smile her way when his fingers hook around the edge of his tie. He pulls it down slightly, nodding her head towards her as a way to make himself seem more at ease, like he is the dominant one in the situation, but the two-week time-span is telling him that he’d be a slave to such a goddess if she asked him to, lost in lust or desire, he doesn’t know, in the hazy cloud of whatever this is. “It’s kind of neat that you actually listen to my skits even though you don’t laugh. At all.”

“I only laugh with you.” She confesses, trailing her eyes up and down his body before sighing. “Which reminds me…it’s laughable that you’re staying an hour after your show just to get to talk to me.”

“I only talk with you.”

“Come on, don’t be lying now.”

“I’m not lying!”

She pushes her hat off her head, keeping the strands of her hair back in a ponytail when a smile full of life appears on her face. Yeah right, like she actually likes him…and it is such a twisted mindset to have. Minho, now an adult, definitely grown and definitely experienced in love, questions why she would ever give a fuck about him. In the realm of confusion, he stays in her presence. “Song Minho, there is no way in this world that you are not loved by like a hundred women and a hundred more men.” She tells him, raising her eyebrows when she leans her weight against the edge of the stage. “The charms you have…god, you really have them.”

His heart warms up at that, fingers hooking around the edge of his tie and finally, pulling it off. “It would sound like you finally found me interesting enough to become your friend.”

“I don’t have those.” She replies, a short chuckle leaving her lips before a saddened smile grazed her features. He would pay to tattoo her thoughts on his body, see it in ink that would never leave him, understand the complexity behind her, the twisted ends and the meeting ones, the reason why her gourmet cooking is good but how her personality simply exudes humbleness, this leadership of her mixed with her strict personality. Not only towards her, but towards anyone who tried to near her.

“I think I know why,” Minho comments, getting off the stage just in time to sit at the edge of it, tilting his head to the side and inspecting her face with utmost care. “That attitude of yours. Cute for me. Definitely a headache for your workers.”

“You’re not lying.” She answers, voice void of emotion. “Why do you like it?”

“Because it’s you.”

“So that’s a because you think I’m attractive?”

“I mean, we’ve already established that.” The way he speaks with confidence is believed by her, but not by himself. Minho doesn’t know what it is about her, about the way she blinks at him with such patience, like she has all the time in the world and yet, that tone on her voice teaches him that she could put anyone on their places if she wanted to. Voice, soul, talent, all in her, all a complexity, not understandable, leading him to burning his own fingers in the habit of wanting to reach out for her. “But there’s more to you than just a pretty everything.”

Shaking her head, she nears her body towards him, placing her hat on top of his bleached hair before chuckling. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so because you’re not the type to look at the good parts of yourself.” And kindness is not found in her eyes, like she can’t simply accept weakness from her part. Maybe, that is why her walls are so high, impenetrable at least.

“Stop trying to make me open my eyes to something…” She whispers, fixing a few of the strands of hair that fell out of the hat before pushing her lips together. “You’re not my therapist.”

“So what am I?”

“…A comedian.”

“Not that, for you.” He tells her, only to watch her eyes shine like all the stars casted in the sea and lord, his heart may be sailing in the clashing waves, all around the place and drowning with how she confuses him. She takes his hand in hers, dragging him down from the stage before shrugging her shoulders.

“You’re my nights. You know, you make me calm…and give me memories to recall.” She replies, always keeping a front, unaware of the way her eyes seem like two metal doors, kept close with the time they have been locked. What he would do to read more of her than the simple present, to get to know her in the most comfortable of ways, an impatient man thirsting for knowledge, unaware of how his surroundings are all filled with thoughts of her. Maybe, this is the magic everyone talks about when mentioning romance. “…I don’t want to say you’re my friend.”

Rolling his eyes, Minho nods his head. “Because we have two more weeks together.”

“Exactly.”

When she turns around to look at him, a small smile on her face, Minho counterparts with his own thoughts. “Can’t we be friends for these two weeks, though?” He asks, almost pleading, and it’s stupid. In any other occasion, he wouldn’t have begged for friendship and there he is, basically inspired by the mere look of her.

“We can be friends at night,” She tells him. “I’m funnier at that time.”

And the promise is so full, so timeless, that even Minho finds himself tranced by the sight of the sky when they look out of the ship and talk about the beauty of life. For the night, it seems like the ice of her personality could quickly melt down.

Or not, either way, these two weeks he’ll make the best out of the two of them.

🚢

The chopping board creaks, the cleaver pushing against it, pulling the vegetable until it is divided in two—in four, in six, in eights, and then, he doesn’t count anymore. His eyes trail up the set of fingers, not manicured, nails definitely on the shorter end, natural, and yet so enticing in the way they work as if they are one with the meal. Her sleeves are perfectly put in place, following the guidelines of cleanliness for the kitchen, though there is not a single soul in the spacious and white place. Everyone is away, gone like the day, and they become two sets of Moons reuniting, as if two Jupiter moons had become friends. Her eyes concentrate on the chopping board, words spilling from her mouth to explain to him the complexity of working with a cleaver.

The truth is that Minho wants to be confident—he wants to show to her that he is a good candidate, someone who wouldn’t break her heart if she just let him in, for a kiss or a hug or a word of love. When he pulls the sleeves of the white chef uniform she had given him, he takes the cleaver in his hands, trying to move it with ease only to find it weighty, slowing down his movements when he nears his hand holding the vegetable in place.

Five more days, that is all he can think about.

Five more days until they part ways. Five, a lucky number to some and one to mock him at this point. She is talking, entranced in the way she loves cooking, much more than she’ll ever love someone else. She lighted him up like a cigarette but has only let him to eat the worries that keep his brain awake, wanting to get to know her, to get a taste of her, simply because of pride or because he has a soft spot for her. The type that tells him that she is unfixable, perhaps a bit broken on the inside, but he wants to try. Minho is an artist, he knows how to cover a spot, how to pain the dull colors in beautiful, bright states of sunshine and rainbows. Everything can be fixed, he says, even people. She doesn’t read it in his eyes, in the way he listens to her every-word, now happier that she ever dares to speak to him that much at all.

“You’re not so bad.” She tells him, making sure to fix the hat over his head, as if she loves seeing him in a uniform that looks like hers. Minho, always wanting to seem stronger than he really is, covering his white and blue heart, the sky turned into an organ, he smirks at her words.

“What am I not good at?”

“I said you weren’t bad,” She finishes, only to earn a scowl from Minho and a glare from him that vanishes when he realizes that he would forgive her for anything. She, whom he knows only a part of, is already owner of a piece of his heart. Why? Maybe, because Minho has been like her in the past. The heartbreaker, the one closed to all types of love and affection, always belonging to someone else. Maybe, he wants to prove people like that can change—they can learn to be loved. “Not that you were good. Look at the cutting board.”

“Okay, sorry.” Minho mumbles, the noise of rain tapping on the ceiling, leaving her to clinging to the edge of the counter, trying to keep her eyes focused. There is a brief moment of silence in which Minho really starts to worry, her eyes are half closed at this point. “Are you okay? If you’re getting dizzy, we can always go back to your room—”

“I’m not dizzy.”

“Then, why are you closing your eyes?”

She’s hiding, not alone, but with him. She’s hiding from the world, from what makes her who she is and from whatever attraction keeps pulling them towards each other, spending ungodly hours speaking about everything and nothing at all. They could all very much be lies, for all he knows, and yet he wants to kiss all the lies away, get to know the core of the woman he can’t stop thinking about. In body, in soul, in that smile that turns strange in existence, in everything that makes her so mysterious. “Because…I can’t look at you right now.” She tells him, wrapping her fingers around his arm and resting her forehead against his shoulder. Minho is quick to question her, a brief ‘why’ kissing the atmosphere around them. “You’re just too nice.”

Minho smiles at that, his bottom lip jutting out with his laughter. “Too nice? How am I too nice?”

“I have tried to push you away, Minho. Why do you keep looking at me like I hold the entire universe on my shoulders?” She asks him, her voice soft when she finally pulls away, letting her fingers trail over his chiseled cheekbones, thumb rubbing at the tan skin of his cheeks. “I’m not the type of woman you want in your life.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” Minho tells her, putting the cleaver down to turn his body towards her. One step closer is enough to cut the circulation off from his body, breaths labored when he takes a good glance to her lips. “I mean it when I say I like you.”

“Don’t.”

“Why can’t I like you?” Words are not verbally spoken, but he can tell that there are a million thoughts going through her brain, concentrating her eyes on his brown irises, his long nose, his plush lips and those damned blonde strands that dare to touch his precious features. “You’re amazing. You work so hard, you have such a leader-like attitude. You don’t let anyone tell you what to do, that’s such a boss move.”

“Minho—” She warns him, only to have him shaking his head.

“You deserve all the praise, for your talent, for your quiet nature. Everything. I would give you the world if I could.” And he doesn’t know why. It’s this rare feeling of protection that settles on his chest, watching how she is so big yet so tiny in this world, a mere particle and once again one of the people that has captivated his attention the most. He doesn’t get the time to decide what it is that keeps him tranced when he feels the weight of her body pushing against his chest, hearts becoming one, hands cradling his defined jaw when she parts her lips to let him get a taste of her. His hands expand on her waist when he finally realizes the movement, hands filled with the smell of tomatoes and he couldn’t even bring himself to care, not when the back of his thighs presses against the counter, all breaths taken away from his lungs, all thoughts erased into one word.

Her.

All he wants is her.

With the way she kisses him, he felt like he was the only man alive, like he had the job to create a new era along with her, a new version of the two. Her kisses are passion and lust mixed with emotion, like it takes everything in her to let this light shine through her. She knocks on the windows of his soul and he opens them freely, only realizing that all along she has been the one playing puppeteer with him. He lets his fingers hook around her hips, dragging his lips across hers before rutting his tongue against hers. The taste of two strangers thinking too much, feeling too much, taking their times in one month and some weeks and yet, feeling like they never had enough time to develop. These walls that she has kept do not come crumbling down, instead, they manifest their power when she trails her lips down to his neck, murmuring apologies for a second, barely reaching his ears when she dives for his lips once again.

Instead, he basks on the feeling of having her, even if it’s not all.

🚢

The day of arrival is filled with people greeting their family members, rushing out of the cruise simply to wrap their arms around them or welcoming the sight of home with a smile on their faces. Some are tired, some are disappointed, but in between the masses of people, Minho is looking for that one person in a chef uniform, the same one that he wants to ask out on a date just at that moment. After all, her disappearance after their eventful night in the kitchen had been quite apparent and no matter how many times he tried to get closer to her, she always told him she was busy. Ghosted, he was, yet Minho was unable to give up.

Unbeknownst to him, the person that had once looked like an angel in all white is now wearing darker colors. All neutral, standing by the very front, as if she had been the first one to leave, waiting for the bus that was supposed to get there to pick up the passengers and take them home one by one. Her hair is covered by a hat, almost like her uniform, a part of her at this point, definitely a brown beret to match her beige shirt, tucked inside old, grandpa-looking pants. The wind blows on her hair, definitely a sign of the beauty of her, the angelic nature that she tries to dress up as demonic meanings. He nears her with extended hands, capturing her shoulders in his grasp to catch her attention and when she turns around, he expects a smile.

He never gets it.

“Hey, there. I found you.” Minho indicates in between laughter, taking off her hat and ruffling her hair—he has always said that there is more to her than her chef status and she has never believed him. Even in her normal state, she is unable to show the precious side of her—the one that is not based on her talent. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to go out right now. I know a place here that is—”

Looking over to the side, she releases a sigh that comes from beneath her soul, pushing her body towards his. “Minho…I don’t think we should continue with this.”

“Why?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at her words. “We’re just getting to know each other—”

“Trust me, you don’t want to get to know me.” Frustration rises up from within him, perhaps from being denied or because he has been played. Something inside him switches, taking a deep breath through his nose before frowning.

“It’s not like I even got a chance, really—”

“What do you want me to do? Just open my entire life to you?”

“Well, I did that for you!”

“I never asked for it!” She raises her voice, pushing at his chest softly before turning her gaze away, clearly embarrassed by the few glances they got. “I didn’t tell you to get interested. You were the one that saw this beautiful thing inside me.” She lifts her hands in the air, as if it is the least understandable thing in the world. Yet, it isn’t for him. Minho would be able to wait a lifetime if it meant getting to know who she is and what are the little parts of her that she never shows to the world, only to create a puzzle for him to savor and love. “You want to know the truth?”

Minho chuckles darkly. “I don’t know, do you even say the truth?”

She slaps her hands against her thighs, scoffing at his words. “I am poor. This attitude that you said was so good and so attractive? Yeah, it has gotten me fired from jobs. I’m a fucking failure. I can’t pay my rent, I have to run away from the landlord for all I know and good fucking news, I got in a cruise with a job because I wanted to make sure I had somewhere to live.” Minho’s cynical smile drops at her words, watching her with kindness in his eyes—the same type she had once stated to hate. “You’re the one that compromised when I told you I didn’t want friendships, I didn’t want a man. Do you think I can even afford the time or the money of having a man? I can’t simply put any of us through that.”

His heart is holding on a pendant, asking himself why he simply wants to hang on to her, as if there is something to hold on to more than a night of pleasure. “I could help you. I have some money now, like, we could pay your rent—”

“I can’t.” She whispers, licking her bottom lip to stop herself from speaking louder. “Minho, just let me be.”

“I just want to help you!”

“You know what? Thank you.” She tells him, patting her hand against his before pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Such action would have seem weird in any other occasion, but by the way she sighs, he knows this is a goodbye. The one he expected, of course, but he had gotten attached—to her, to the passion that radiated from her, to that personality he has always wanted to get to know. “But I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be in your life, just like you can’t be in mine.”

The sound of her name is a whisper that she lets go of when the bus arrives, sparing one look over her shoulder, when he watches their two hearts being left in the sea. His will heal, of course it will, but it will always wonder what the mysterious eyes of her ever held, and if they ever held feelings for him, too.

#mino scenarios #mino #winner scenarios #winner #kpop scenarios #writing #mino fluff #mino angst #mino au #winner angst #winner fluff #winner au #comedian!mino #this is angsty pls scream at me lmao

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sparklingchan · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 2k+

Warnings : Profanity, descriptions of mythological monsters, monster killings, not edited.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: Felix and you have your first encounter - but why did it have to be under life threatening circumstances?

A/N : I’m so sorry this chapter took so long skskskkksks ugh I’ve been having some personal issues as well as midterms. For those of you who waited, thank you!

Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST || Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"So.. you are not allowed to use cellphones because it attracts deadly monsters?"

"Yes," you snicker at Zeus, "No thanks to you, dad."

Zeus - the king of all gods on Mount Olympus, the god of sky and lightning - sits on the couch beside you in a simple striped shirt and loose baggy jeans, his long hair tied in a braid. He doesn't look anything like a Greek God or a king, he doesn't look grand or royal or powerful. He sits on your couch with his legs crossed, back slouched - like a normal father of a normal twenty one year old.

He rolls his eyes at you, "Yeah, yeah, blame it on your poor, old dad. " he's immortal, by the way.

You grab a cookie from the plate your mom had put on the coffee table before driving to work. You're kind of glad she's not here to see Zeus - your mom and Zeus didn't exactly part on good terms. Of all the times you'd met your father, she's not been there to witness any of it, fortunately.

"What do you want, dad? I'm sure you're not here to eat cookies and talk about mortal technology with me. "

Zeus nods, sighing. The distressed expression clawing it's way back to his face. "When are you going back to the camp?" He asks.

"I was about to leave before you decided to show up. "

"And with who exactly?"

"Oh, with Minho."

Zeus runs his fingers through his flowing beard, "The Dionysus kid?"

You nod - yes, Minho's father is the Greek God of Wine and fertility but your friend's never been much too proud of it. So you know better than to add to his insecurities, even behind his back.

"Dad, can you please tell me what you're here for?" You insist, now slightly annoyed.

"Ah, fine, fine," he nods, frowning like a little kid, "I actually need your help, y/n. I cannot ask this of anyone but my own child, which is why I have come here."

It's normal for God's to let their demigod children do the bidding on their behalf - it's nothing surprising or new, but you're taken aback since you're father has never asked you to do anything for him before.

Before you can reply, he continues, "It's Poseidon, y/n. He's...He's been sick."

Poseidon? Sick? Isn't he an immortal God? How could he ever fall sick!

"He can just drink some nectar and ambrosia and he'll be as good as new, dad." You deadpan.

"No, not this time. Poseidon's trident is lost. Someone stole it, apparently. And the trident holds in all his power. He's weak without it, and with him gone it's hard to control what goes on in the Oceans. The monsters and demons and even the Nymphs are out of control. "

"I would be very grateful if you could do something about it, y/n. Tell your camp director about it and go on a quest with your demigod friends. Find the trident, please. We need it back or else the mortals as well as the demigods will not be safe anymore. "

As if they'd ever been, "Okay, fine..I'll put in a word at camp."

Just before Zeus speaks again, you hear the loud honk of a car outside your house. Minho.

"I have to go now, " you quickly grab your bags, "And dad?"

He stops munching on the cookies to look at you. "Please clean this place up and go back before mom comes home."

He winks at you as you close the door behind you, jogging to Minho's old Hyundai that stands near the side of the street.

He waves at you enthusiastically and you almost feel bad for your friend.

Oh, Minho, you’re not going to be happy with the news I have.

Halfway into the drive, you realise that you're not the only who has news - Minho too had information to share - more like rantings, but you liked to classify them as information.

"I fought with my parents again. " he sighs, his eyes focused on the road ahead, "They don't want me going back to camp every year. It scares them, y/n, can you believe it!"

Minho - unlike you - had never met his birth mother. He was adopted right from the hospital. Sadly, Dionysus visits him more often than he wishes he would.

"They're just worried because you keep getting yourself in trouble there. Try to keep calm, you'll do just fine." You mutter, shaking your leg, your mind running through numerous possibilities as to how you can break Poseidon's news to Minho.

"Well that's not all. So I fought with them and came to camp a month earlier. While I was out with the annoying Satyr, scouting for demigods, I found three more washed up on the shore of the beach where we first met you. They'd been attacked apparently, and we brought them to the camp and guess what, the youngest one is as old as you are! It's so fascinating for once to not have to deal with unruly teenagers."

You scoff, "First of all, the annoying Satyr has a name. He is called Eden. And second of all, how is it possible for demigods our age to make it this long without living behind a protective barrier?"

Minho shrugs, taking a sharp right to the road that leads home to Camp Levanter. "Beats me, y/n. They must have lived like nomads without anyone to protect them from the monsters, but I'm glad we found them. You'll like them too. The other boys love them."

You nod, not giving too much thought to a bunch of new demigods. You've been with demigods all your life so there's nothing to worry about. What you are worried about is Poseidon and his lost trident, because no matter what, this new development does put all mortals and half-bloods at risk.

"Um, Minho?" You start, playing with hem of your checkered shirt, "I might actually know why the new demigods were attacked by a sea monster- "

However before you can speak out the next word, your eyes land on a huge blue wave of water, as tall as a ten floored building, engulfing everything within it's vicinity. You see mortals run in alarm, screaming and crying. The cars rush away, trying to escape to a safer place. The earth vibrates beneath you, as if to warn about an approaching danger.

"What the hell is that!"

"It's a sea monster... a Cetus."

Minho slams on the accelerator, speeding away from the approaching sea monster. The camp is only a two minute drive from the highway you are on so if the Gods are kind enough, the both of you might just make it before the monster catches your scent.

And if it does, then Minho and you are as good as dead.

"Can you see it, y/n?" Minho asks you in an urgent voice, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, "Do you think you could create lightning and kill that thing?"

You make the mistake of looking behind you, because as soon as you turn around, you see a gigantic dragon- like creature chasing close behind your car, baring it's fangs. Your blood turns cold.

"Minho, drive faster! I think it has smelt us!" You yell in panic, "We're not enough to defeat a sea monster; even with your vine growing power and my electrokinesis."

Minho does as he is told, driving the car faster than the mortals do in their stupid car races, his hands tightly gripping the handle and handsome features twisted in agony.

You roll down the window and glance outside, estimating how much time you have to summon lightning before the monster catches upto your car.

Sucking in a deep breath, you pray to your father for help and thrust out your hand towards the sky, and see small electrical impulses begin at your fingertips. Rolling the window further down so as to be able to aim the lightning directly at the monster, you concentrate all your energy into your right hand.

The lightning may not kill it, but it’ll surely slow it down.

Electric sparks cover your entire arm like it were some kind of jewelry.

A deep breath, and you release.

“Its hurt,” you whisper as the monster stops on its tracks, its googly eyes closing as if in immense pain and in a spilt second, they open and stare right at you. The monster is angry. At you.

“Shit! Shit! Y/n!” Minho panics.

"Keep driving." You reassure Minho, "I'll slow it down."

You see dirty green scales of the monster when you glance at the rear view mirror and your immediate reaction is to grab your bow and arrows from the backseat of the car.

Minho nods and you position yourself such that only your arrow is pointed directly at the monster's direction while you squint one eye and careful peek out without showing too much of your face. Monsters have very good memory.

The monster hisses, his long, red tongue rolling out of his mouth as if in annoyance. The mortals do not bother coming in between your car and the Cetus - all thanks to the Mist.

The Mist creates an illusion that hides any supernatural beings like monsters or titans or giants from the mortal's sight so it is safe to believe that the mortals are perceiving the Cetus as something as simple as a huge storm.

"It's coming closer." You warn Minho.

"I can't go faster than this! Has no one from the camp received any news of a sea monster coming out of the water and roaming out in the streets yet?" He yells back.

You stretch the bow string, the arrow aimed right between the monster's two hideous eyes.

"Stop! Y/n!" Minho suddenly says, slowing down a bit, staring at the rear view mirror, "There's something on the monster's head."

His words seem to fade away in the background as you see the monster's tail - resembling that of a fish - flying up behind him, and then thrashing hard against the concrete road. The ground shakes.

"I'm shooting." you mutter, "It's going to kill us all!"

"Y/n, no - don't."

"What! Why?"

You loosen the string and pull back the arrow, trusting Minho's judgement better than yours.

"Just trust me, okay?" Minho mutters, slowly pulling up by the sidewalk.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you quickly glance out the window.

"What the.."

You catch sight of a blonde man, probably only as tall as Minho, standing on top of the monster's head and thrusting his shining bronze sword right into the Monster's forehead.

The man looks in your direction, as if he’s known you all along and nods, with what you perceive to be a smile on his lips.

"Shoot now, y/n." Minho says from beside you.

You immediately act on it, stretching the string tighter, the arrow pointed at the ugly monster that now cries desperately. You let go of the string and the arrow cuts through the air and stabs the Cetus right at his neck.

A loud, thundering wail leaves it's mouth and then it disappears into millions of dust particles, on it's way to the depths of Tartarus ; the underground prison of all monsters.

"That's Felix, y/n." Minho says, unlocking the doors with a slight grin on his face. He looks proud. "He's one of the new demigods at the camp."

The said man quickly jogs up to your car, panting and huffing, and knocks at your window.

"Hey, can I have a ride back home, Minho?" He smiles, "And you must be y/n, right?"

And you sink back into your seat as you see his entire form up close.

Beautiful. Ethereal. And every other synonym of those words in the English dictionary fall weak if it ever comes to describing the man standing in front of you.

You don't even need to ask who his godly parent is because you already know now - Aphrodite, goddess of love, lust and beauty.

****

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mrs-i-have-too-many-biases · 5 years

Text

Yandere stray kids the wedding series: The wedding (4/4) Final

Genre: Fluff/ Angst

SFW I guess, but a little suggestive.

Pairing: Reader X Stray kids Members

Requested: Yes, by @petalskook : “Can I ask for a reaction to skz!yandere, How would your wedding be?” (Last part honey!)

Word count: 7,4k

Author’s note: I added some more things to your request, because I felt like it fit the story well. I hope you like it. (I’m back on this request after what? Two months?) I thought it would be fun to make this a series so I did. Also I’m going to keep this party PG since I do not write smut.

Warning: Yandere themes, swearing, mentions of death, toxic relationships, a little suggestive, manipulation, mentions of murder, do not read if uncomfortable

Chan:

After the wedding Chan had bought two tickets for a honeymoon to a place he had always wanted to visit: Tenerife. One of his favourite songs is Tenerife Sea by Ed Sheeran and Chan just needed to take this chance to share this special moment with his significant other.

It has been two days after the wedding and Chan couldn’t keep his hands off her. Their first wedding night was absolutely romantic. He had bought the honeymoon suite at the best hotel he could find in the country and after a night of loving as a new-wedded couple. His hands were all over you and yours were tangled in his hair as your lips were inseparable from his.

The next morning he would wake you up, his lips attached to your neck as he mumbled a good morning in the meantime. “Morning to you to my hubby.” “Call me that again.” Chan mutters as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. “What, hubby?” “

No, yours.”

“You’re all mine Chan. Not to forget, I’m all yours.”

“All mine.” Chan whispered before attacking your neck again.

The morning went by within a second it seems. Chan had bought an extensive breakfast for the two of you before you two boarded your flight to who knows. The two of you were seated in your first class seats, receiving a glass of champagne as soon as you had made yourself comfortable.

Chan had told you that it would be a long flight. He made sure you were comfortable and that you held his hands the whole flight. Chan decided to not sleep the whole flight, not wanting anyone to talk to you. Even though you were his already. Nobody was good enough to breath the same air as you besides him. Nobody would treat you as well as he only could.

“Honey where are we going?” You asked with a yawn as Chan lead you through a pad after he had covered your eyes with a blindfold.

“Be patient babygirl and I’ll reward you with your surprise.” Chan whispered seductively under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, startling you.

“Alright baby, open your eyes.” Chan says as he removed the blindfold to reveal a big pool with an amazing view. You gasped in admiration as you looked around happily. “Chan it’s so beautiful here- Where are we?” You asked confused, still not able to process everything.

“We’re in Tenerife my love.” He giggled when you gasped once again, happy that he was the cause of that smile. “Is that a castle? Or is that a mansion? The houses here are so spacious.” You chuckled, before you turned to your husband who was simply holding a key in front of your face.

“It’s ours my love.” “You bought this?” You exclaimed in shock. “Just for you and me.” He whispered as he held you by your waist. “Just for us?”

“It’s ours baby. And it’s private as well. Nobody is allowed to come here. It’s just the two of us here baby. We can even live here if you want. Nobody knows us, we don’t need anybody. We have this amazing view and you have me to provide you for everything you need.” Chan muttered against your cheek as he pecked it. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.” “That’s my girl.” He smirked, before crashing his lips onto yours.

The next day was filled with great a luxe breakfast on bed, a lot of love and a lot of swimming.

You even decided to have a little competition with each other, which you honestly didn’t wanted to participate, because you knew how good of a swimmer your husband was.

After racing each other three times in a row, you somehow won.

“You let me win.” You whined.

“No I didn’t my love. You’re just that amazing.” He praised whilst kissing your lips.

“But I didn’t deserve my prize.” You whined once again as Chan brought our a bottle of oil so he could massage you. Chan did let you win, but all because he saw a chance to put his hands all over you without you being whiny.

“Why, do you want to earn your prize my love?” He said with a smirk as he walked slowly to you, making you bite your bottom lip, knowing what was to come next. You nodded slightly, making Chan drop the bottle on the nearest chair he could find, before crashing his lips onto yours. His hands were gripping your waist tightly as your lips were moving passionately.

This was for sure going to be a good life, especially when it was just you and him. And if it would be like this everyday, no worries. Just you and your love that was only for him?

Nobody would even dare to try to tell him that there would come an end to this. To Chan, it would never.

Woojin:

This boy was so extra after the wedding. He wouldn’t let you walk anywhere. He needed to carry you. “Because the world doesn’t deserve you and I as your husband has to make sure that you wouldn’t be in touch with the world.” “You’re too kind my love.” You would giggle as you were carried bridal style to your honeymoon sweet the two of you were staying in for a weekend. You two thought it would be a good idea to take a good ‘rest’ before you went on your honeymoon.

The burdened feeling of the fear of losing you was still alive in the back of his mind, but since you now wore his last name the chance of you leaving him would be almost impossible. Even if you wanted to divorce him, he would have to sign the papers as well. And he certainly wouldn’t.

The thought of you wanting to leave him made him feel infuriated. He wanted to punish you before hand so you wouldn’t even dare to think about it. But you had proven to him that you were his good princess and that you only loved and needed him.

He had protected you from so many creeps or people who didn’t support your relationship, he cut them all off for you so you could be happy with him and only him. He didn’t want to share your happiness. If anyone would ever make you smile brighter than he did that day, the person could expect an assassin at the front of their door by the end of the day.

“Are you ready for Bora Bora my wife?” Woojin asks when you were seated in a private section of the plane. It even had a bed and it left you startled. “Yes, but how much money did you spend on this plane ticket?” You ask with your mouth agape as you looked around the room, yes, the room.

“Not enough when it comes to you, I wanted to buy a private yet, but the bastards were. Now come to bed I want to hold my wife.” Woojin whines as he held you by your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck, copying his actions. You started to squeal when your husband tackled you onto the bed, nestling his face into the crook of your neck immediately.

Woojin had woken you up from your nap when you were about to arrive. He mentioned to you to look outside and the view was absolutely breath-taking. You thanked God and Woojin that you had bought an early flight to the island.

You squealed once again in excitement hugging Woojin. He hugged you back, giving you a fond look as he thought you were adorable.

“Let’s get ready my love, we have an island to explore.” He whispered, pecking your lips right after.

After three days on the island you came to the conclusion that you never wanted to leave. The island and the atmosphere were dreamy like and you didn’t want it to end. Even though the two of you didn’t explore much of the island, but thought your hotel room was way more interesting, you now decided as it was your third day on the island to go see sighting.

He was spoiling you so much. You would only look at something your eyes had caught whilst looking around and he would’ve bought it for you. By now he was holding many shopping bags with clothes, accessories and snacks that he had bought just for you.

“Baby you don’t have to spend all this money on me.” “Be grateful my love or you will be punished tonight. Besides, I told you I would take care of you. Just accept these gifts for me my love and everything will be alright. You’re my wife and I love you and I promised myself to make you the happiest woman in the world, so just let me do it.” “You’re too good for me baby. I love you too.”

‘This couldn’t possibly can get any better.’ Woojin thought to himself.

“Hey Woojin.” You said out of nowhere. He looked at you confused, since you didn’t use any pet names for him.

“Y-yes my love?” He stuttered, slightly scared of what you were about to say.

“You know who I think is so cute?” You started with a smirk.

“Who, I demand you to tell me-”

“My husband Woojin. He is just the cutest, He has even bought me a crystal necklace in the shape of a flower. I love it so much. And most importantly, I forgot to mention how freaking handsome he is. I’m such a lucky woman.” You giggled, seeing him calm down as soon as you mentioned his name.

“You like to tease me, huh? Let’s see how much you like it.” He muttered deeply, before he tackled you down onto your shared bed.

‘It could get better, huh?’ He thought, as he smirked to himself.

“Mine.” He growled as he attacked your neck with his lips.

“Yours my love. All yours.”

Minho:

Just like Woojin, Minho loved to spoil you. Right after the wedding he had promised you to show you how much he loved you that night and for the rest of your lives. The night was full of soft touches and seductive whispers.

After your blissful night together he had told you to prepare for the surprise of your life. You were excited for your honeymoon. Your husband had promised you to take you to your favourite place in the world and besides his arms it was Hawaii. You loved Hawaii and you had always told Minho that you wanted to make memories with him there. It just seemed perfect. Nice hot weather, good food, a great view and Minho. It was everything you needed and that’s also what you told him.

And he took it literally. What you didn’t know when you arrived at Hawaii, was at which island you would stay at, was actually yours. He had bought an island in a tropical atmosphere so they could live their best lives, with just each other.

Minho was scared that you’d run away from him, even though you wanted to marry him obviously. Even if she’d try to swim away from him, he’d find her and bring her back to him. He didn’t wanted to take the risk. He still remembered the day they met. You didn’t wanted to do anything with him as you were waiting for your boyfriend.

Minho was furious.

He was the one who was supposed to date you. He had planned everything. He had caused an accident, so bad that you’d lose half of your memory. He’d wipe out your current boyfriend and visit you in the hospital, pretending he was him. He had even removed half of her friends’ memories, just so he could be with her. A sick move, but he got what he wanted.

Minho smiled to himself as you were rushing through the house that was placed on the island, mesmerised by everything he had arranged for the two of you.

“Did you really do this for us?” You asked him in awe. “Of course I did baby, I can get you anything and everything you want or need.” He says with a cocky undertone as he smirked. “This is going to be our little home. You will never have to leave ever again, I’ll take care of you. My wife, my love.” He stated proudly as he looked at you up and down, loving the sundress you wore for him.

You ran into his arms and he twirled you around.

“I love you so much baby.” “I know you do, princess.”

You and your husband had a little too many cocktails on your second day on your little private island.

“From the sentence “I love you”, which word is your favourite?” You asked whilst you slurred your words a bit. You were laid onto you husband’s bare chest as you laid together on the beach lounges.

Minho stared down at you, enjoying how clingy you were whenever you drank too much. And he thanked the universe he found out about it, because it made him want to fill you up with the toxic substance, just to get you all over him.

“Well?” You asked him, snapping him back into reality,

“I. It has to be I.” He said with a smirk.

You giggled whilst cupping his cheek with one hand, bringing his face closer to yours.

“It will and has always been you.”

“Good.” He whispered before kissing you soft but passionately.

Changbin:

Changbin was ready to spoil you. He is a man with a lot of money on his bank account and he wanted to spend it all on you. He was crazy for you and you secretly knew it. The wedding and the wedding night had worn the two of you out. Dancing all night and loving in the hotel suite with a beautiful view. Changbin’s stress was increased as soon as the wedding was over. He had taken care of the bad people in your life. Even though they were invited to the wedding, they would never leave the venue.

His hands had been all over you ever since you entered the plane. “Baby, stop it. We’re in public.” You’d whisper as Changbin was kissing down your neck. “I just want to show everybody you’re mine.” He muttered against your skin. “I think they can see the ring glistening baby.” You joked as you flaunted your wedding ring. “It fits you so perfectly, my love.” He whispered; his lips still attached to your skin.

You caressed his cheek before planting a kiss on his forehead, making him smile in content as you started your fourteen-hour flight.

“Here we are my love, New York!” Changbin cheered as you two arrived at an apartment complex. “I still can’t believe you brought us to New York for our honeymoon! It’s so pretty, look at the lights!” You yelled happily as you jumped up and down, feeling excited to spend time with your husband in a beautiful city like this.

You threw yourself into his arms and enjoyed his touch. Changbin, smiled to himself. He couldn’t be happier about the fact how good you had been to him. You always behaved, you never wanted to leave him. You did scare him at the wedding when it came to your dress-crisis and he had punished you for that.

He wanted to reward and spoil you, for being so good to him. “Princess, let’s go upstairs and freshen up. I have some reservations for us at the best restaurant in New York and we have to be in time.” Changbin informed as he took her by the hand and lead her up.

Your eyes widened as you arrived at the penthouse of the complex. You gasped as you slowly walked your way into the place that, thank to Changbin, you could call yours. “You did not buy this for us.” You said, still in disbelief. “Believe it baby, this is ours. You said how much you loved the night skyline and now you can look at it for the rest of our lives.” He smiled whilst placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“This is amazing. I love it! I can’t tell you, how happy I am that I married you.” You confessed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You can show me though.” He smirked as he placed his hands on your waist. “I thought you said we had reservations?” “I can push it an hour back if we need to.” Changbin wiggled his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“Changbin, baby. C’mon we’re going to be late.” You whined as your husband took forever to get ready.

“My love, why do we have to eat out. We can just order in? Wouldn’t you like that? We’re going to live here anyway. We can eat there whenever we want. Let’s just sit on our balcony with some pizzas or something and enjoy ourselves.” Your husband whined back as he clung onto you with no shirt on. He knew he had you weak whenever he did that and that made you whine once again.

“I’ll call them off, you order the food.” You sighed with a chuckle as you whipped out your phone.

“You’re the best!” He kissed your cheek before disappearing to the other room,

When the pizzas arrived you laughed out loudly to see that the pizzas were heart shaped.

“You’re such a softy.” You teased as you messed up his hair playfully.

“Only for you my love.” He grinned whilst wiggling his eyebrows.

“And they say you’re scary, I just can’t believe that. I mean look at you, my handsome man.”

“I am for you eyes only my love, just like you are for me.”

Hyunjin:

This mother fluffer is a cheesy romantic. He’d take you to Paris for you honeymoon. He wants to rent the Eiffel tower and the Louvre so he could enjoy it with only you. It was so far from home; nobody would know who you were there and Hyunjin loved it.

The flight might had been long but it was worth it when he saw your reaction as you arrived at night. Your chauffeur would drive you around the city, giving you a tour of lights. Portraying the city beautifully as if you were traveling between the stars.

Your husband had covered your eyes with his big hands as he wanted to surprise you with your apartment for the next couple of weeks. You gasped when he removed his hands from you face, to reveal the room to you. You ran to the balcony to look at the view and you were in awe. Hyunjin followed you and hugged you from behind.

“Do you like it?” Hyunjin whispered in your ear. “I love it.” You replied, turning around to bury your face in the chest of your tall husband. “Good, now get some rest my queen. I have a whole day planned for us tomorrow.” He swept you off your feet and carried you bridal style to bed.

The day started late in the morning. You husband had woken you up with breakfast on bed and a lot of love. After that, he would lay an outfit out for you to wear, before taking you on a date in the city of love.

You had lunch in a cute café and walked along the Seine. Your hands never let go of one another as you walked through the city. Hyunjin loved, having you by his side at any time, because he knew people were watching you. He knew you were a walking goddess and he wanted to show you off.

At your wedding day, when he killed that bastard, Hyunjin felt such a rush. The adrenaline was addicting and he needed more. He wanted people to see her, he wanted to feel jealous so he had a reason to kill them, to make you only his. He would punish you, if you would talk or look at other people but him. He didn’t care that you were his wife, you needed to be put in your place.

He would see the chauffeur look at you a little too many times through the mirror, making Hyunjin smirk.

“Sir, would you like a drink later tonight? As a thank you for driving us around?” Hyunjin would say. The man behind the steer could feel a certain vibe coming from your husband, you on the other hand had no clue what Hyunjin was planning.

“A-alright?” The chauffeur stuttered, making Hyunjin smirk.

“Good, I’ll see you tonight. You can drop us off right there.” Hyunjin signed, before getting out with you.

“We’ll see you tomorrow!” You said cheerfully, not knowing that the poor man would never ever see the day of light again after tonight as you walked off with your husband to your romantic dinner.

You sat across from your fiance as you were having a lovely dinner together. You were just mesmerized by the beauty your husband held, you just felt so lucky.

“What’s wrong my love?” He asks you when he caught you staring at him.

“You- You have a face.” You blurted out, whilst still staring at your husband.

“Yes, yes I do my love- are you okay? Do you need some water-”

“I mean a nice face! You have a nice face- oh my gosh I am so embarrassing.” You whispered whilst hiding your face in your hands, making your husband laugh at how adorable you were.

“Thanks, I think.”

“Please accept my attempts at flirting, I don’t know what I’m doing.” You whined as Hyunjin stuck out his hand for you to hold.

“Luckily, my love. We’re married. You don’t have to flirt with me, even though I love it. Especially seeing you fail like that.” He laughed, making you pout in the process.

“Babe~” You whined, squeezing his hand, which Hyunjin kissed comfortingly.

“I love you though.” He said whilst shooting you a wink.

“You better.”

“Baby, believe me I do.”

(I love this gif too much, I needed to add it)

Jisung:

Jisung is a sentimental man. He likes the fact that something had a meaning or a story. He took those things and people dearly. Besides you were Malaysia one of them. He loved it there, but he was glad he moved away, so destiny could set the two of you up, something Jisung liked to believe.

Jisung is known as an anxious yandere, he constantly fears that you’d leave him. It doesn’t matter to him that you’re married, he wanted you to show him how much you loved him, how much you needed him. There would be days or weeks where he would be so distant, just to test you. He wanted to see you running to him, begging him for attention or any kind of affection. He loved that you needed him.

That set Jisung to thinking. If you only needed him, why would you be surrounded by people you know. What if you’d run to them instead of him? The thought made him shiver. He needed to do something about it and that’s when you’re honeymoon came into view.

Jisung had taken you to Malaysia and he was happy that you were excited. You were thrilled to be part of something that Jisung loved so much, especially as his wife. Jisung had brought you at first to a hotel and showing you the best place of Kuala Lumpur with a tour guide.

Your husband wasn’t the biggest fan of this guy, but he couldn’t blow his cover. The urge to kill your brother was too high and he was ready to risk it, but he knew he shouldn’t or he would love you. Jisung had to wait for the right moment.

On your honeymoon, was Jisung distant, just as he planned. “Honey, aren’t you enjoying yourself? Do you want to go somewhere else?” You asked him as you were looking at the view in the Petronas Towers. Your husband chose to ignore you, making you sigh. “What if we went back to the hotel and enjoy ourselves?” You wiggled your eyebrows, as soon as Jisung’s gaze shot your way.

His heart was pounding and he wanted to punish you for making him a mess. He grabbed you by the hand and dragged you inside the first taxi he could stop. “What address did you gave him?” You asked him confused after Jisung told the taxi driver to go to a certain apartment complex.

“Don’t worry about it princess, just get ready.” Was everything your husband would say, before crashing his lips onto yours.

“My love are you ready for our new home?” He asked as he covered your eyes with his hand, whilst walking with you through your new penthouse. “O-our new home?” “Don’t you want to be with me?” Jisung growled, dropping his hands from your eyes, making you gasp by the view. The penthouse was huge and the view was beautiful. There was even a pool, on the top of an apartment complex. “Of course, I want to be with you! I didn’t expect this!” You exclaimed as you looked around.

“You’re an ungrateful little bitch, you don’t even want to be with me. Even if I give you this in a tropical country. I should punish you, you should be grateful I even let you marry me.” He growled deeply. “I-I am grateful for marrying you! I love you!” You quickly replied as you went to hug him. “No you don’t.” Jisung pushed you off him, walking to the balcony with a smirk as he heard you run to him. “I-I do! Please, honey. I love you!” You exclaimed desperately. “Show me then. Show me how much you love me, how much you need me. How bad you want me.”

The next day, Jisung’s mood had taken a big turn. He was in glee and he was jumping around in excitement as he showed you around in the KL Forest Eco Park. The park had tall bridge that stood throughout the park. Jisung knew this was the moment.

After the guide would’ve made beautiful pictures of him and you, he would send you off to get some drinks for him and yourself. “Don’t you dare to fucking talk or look at anybody. I will notice immediately baby, you know that.” He threatened, before you kissed his cheek and ran off.

Jisung would not wait another second when people weren’t in sight anymore. He grabbed the guide by the throat, enjoying the view of him slowly losing colour in his face. “You’ve touched and looked too much at my wife, buddy. Big mistake. You shall be punished for your dumb actions. Jisung put the man in a hold and put his hand in front of the man’s mouth and nose, causing him to die from suffocation.

Jisung pushed the man over the robes, letting him drop down along the tall trees. He smiled to himself in content when he heard you cheer his name. “Where did the guide go to?” You asked him confused and innocently. “He went home early. Don’t worry my love. I will show you around our new home.”

Felix:

Your husband is Australian, so it wasn’t a surprise to you that you would spend your honeymoon in Sydney. You had flown over to the hot city with Felix’s family. There was something about them that you didn’t liked. “Are we going to spend our entire honeymoon with your family?” You asked your husband as you flew over the big blue ocean. “Why?” He asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t you want them to be around us?” He whispered as he leaned closer to you. “No.” You replied honestly, taking your husband by surprise.

“Excuse me-“ “I want to spend this time with you and only you. It’s our honeymoon after all.” You said whilst trailing your hand over Felix’s chest, making him slightly shiver by the sudden touch. “Such a good princess for me. You’re showing me so well how much you want me and only need me. I should reward you when we land.” He muttered against your lips. “You could show me right now?” You grinned whilst tucking on his shirt a little.

He grabbed your hand and held it in a tight grip, looking you deeply in the eye as you crumbled by his touch and vibe. “You better wait like the patient good princess I married, otherwise I might have to do something on my honeymoon, that we both might regret doing, now won’t we princess?” He threatened, putting you back in your place again.

Felix had taken you to the beach, he had spoiled you at his favourite mall and he had fed you with the best food from the best restaurants he knew and could find in his hometown.

He would be teasing you whenever you would try on something in a store.

“Baby, your butt seems too big for it. You should get another one and save this one for tonight.” Felix teases daringly, making you gasp.

“I hate you.” You said playfully, making his heart ache a little, but he was in public so he shook it off.

“It’s not good to lie to yourself my love, now tell me you love me.”

“No.” You teased back.

“Tell me you love me, because I’m paying for these.” He said with a smirk.

“I love you my handsome husband! You’re the best!” You yelled playfully as you hugged him.

“That’s right.”

Right now you were in a mansion Felix had taken you to. You were outside on a bench, sulking a little bit about something, but you weren’t too sure what it was about.

“My love, why are you outside on your own? Don’t you want to be with me inside?” Felix asked as he stormed outside, after looking for you for ten minutes. “I was just thinking.” “About what?” Felix almost snapped, angry that you made him look for you. He felt like he almost had to punish you again. He found you ungrateful. He had spoiled you for the past few days, with gifts, food and loads and loads of love.

“Well, I’m still quite bothered by my parents not attending out wedding. They might not love you, but they at least could’ve been decent enough to show up at their own daughter’s wedding?” You exclaimed in distress. “Just forget about them, you don’t need them. You have me now and my family.” “About that, no offense but I rather would stay with just you than having your family around.” You confessed carefully. Felix felt back the smirk that was about to appear.

“Why?” “Well, I don’t know. I just want to be with you. Not with them.” You added. “And what about holidays?” Felix asked, sitting down next to you this time. “I don’t really care. I just want to be with you. You’re all I need, really.” You assured him as you leaned on him. Felix now had a smile plastered on his face, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“Then let’s live right here.” Felix offered. “What-“ “This mansion, I actually bought it for us. My parent’s don’t even know about it. Nobody has to know about it. You don’t even know how happy you’ve made me, you only need me. Only me. I will care for you. I will protect you. Let’s do it.”

You looked at him in shock. You were overwhelmed with the sudden information he had shared with you just now. You don’t know what happened, but there was a certain look in his eyes that had you hypnotised. “Let’s do it.” You said, making him crash his lips on yours.

You were his now, you didn’t need anyone else. Just him.

Seungmin:

Seungmin is a twisted young man. Just like Hyunjin he felt a rush whenever he was taking someone out. He loved the rush of adrenaline and he couldn’t get enough, until he married you. There was no reason for him to kill people when he already had you wearing his last name. He loved to set people up against each other. He made sure you had no friends left at the end day.

The ones at the wedding, were they even friends? You weren’t sure, but after the betrayal of your previous friends. He made sure they all knew that you were his and that there was no way they could come in between your relationship.

The only thing that could drive him crazy, was you still being able to leave. In your current apartment he had installed security cameras in every room, checking if you hadn’t run away from him. One day, in one of the first weeks you were dating, you had to leave for an emergency. Your friend had fainted and you wanted to check up on her.

You left without a warning and Seungmin went out of his mind. He left your apartment, which he already had a key to, thanks to himself for copying it, to your friends place, which he had tracked down by your phone’s GPS.

He made a scene and dragged you back home. He explained, as he put on his puppy eyes, that he just missed you so much and that you had him worried. You couldn’t be mad at someone with big innocent eyes like your husband’s. He had you wrapped around his finger and he loved it.

When it came to your honeymoon, Seungmin had something planned. After a romantic wedding night he’d have drugged you in your sleep. He had perfected the formula by testing it on some of your old friends. Some had survived and simply didn’t remember what they did the day before. Others, never saw the day of light ever again.

The morning after the wedding night, just when he saw you wriggling around, he placed the cloth on your airways, your body relaxed back into a slumber, making Seungmin smile in content. Your things would be packed by movers as Seungmin carried your unconscious body to the airport, where he had arranged a private plane. He didn’t want to be around people, the chance of somebody recognizing him or you made him shake in anger.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed. The temperature was higher than you fell asleep, you focussed your eyes to notice that the ceiling wasn’t the same either. Your body shot up to see that you ended up in a whole different room. You suddenly heard the sea around you and jumped out of bed to check it out.

You gasped when you saw that you were far away from the shore. The house you were in was beautiful, but you confusion about how you got there.

“Do you like it?” A familiar voice asked you. You turned around to see your husband leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Where am I? How did I get here- how did we get here?” You asked frantically. Your husband calmly walked to you and planted a kiss on the top of your head. “You passed out for a whole day and the doctors said you’d be okay. You don’t even remember getting on a plane? You were excited to drink cocktails on our private yet- they must’ve put something in your drink. You fell asleep right after. I will sue them-“ “N-no, you don’t have to. Just- what is this?”

“I bought this for us. Your friends and family are toxic, that’s something we found out ages ago. Let’s stay here my love, we will have our happily ever after. I’ll provide for everything. Just ask and I’ll get it for you, if you will be the best girl for me and love me and always stay with me. You’re love and attention is mine, you belong to me. I love you so much princess. I think you could do that, can’t you my love?”

You and Seungmin were about to have a dinner date at your new house and you wanted to look good for him. You gasped when you saw the drawers full of makeup supplies. There was so much, you didn’t even use that much, but you didn’t care. Right now, you wanted to get ready for you date night.

After some time you had finished your makeup, but you weren’t sure of what lipstick you wanted to use,

You almost jumped out of your skin when you noticed your husband in the reflection of your mirror.

“Do you like them? I based them all off the brand and the colours you told me once before that you liked.” He said proudly.

“I love it, but can you help me with this lipstick?” You asked him whilst handing him a nude colour you liked.

“Sure.” He replied before taking it from you. And before you could protest was he applying the lipstick on his own lips.

“My love, you’re supposed to put it on me-” You were cut off by your husband who crashed his lips onto yours, making you giggle into the kiss.

“There,” He said proudly with a smile before taking a makeup wipe to remove the remaining lipstick from his own lips.

“Well, since when are you like this.” You asked hi in surprise.

“Ever since I married you my love.” He smirked, kissing you forehead,

“You look stunning honey.”

“All thanks to you, now shall we start our date night?”

“After you my lady.” Seungmin smiled before taking you by the hand and start your romantic little date night.

And he wouldn’t want ti any other way.

Jeongin:

Your honeymoon with your husband was quite simple. Since you had an extravagant wedding. You absolutely loved your wedding and you couldn’t be more thankful for him arranging it with your wedding planner, who you hadn’t seen at the reception. You had reassured him, when he felt anxious, that the wedding was perfect. Your family had left that night back home, whilst you and Jeongin stayed in Busan to have your honeymoon there as well.

Jeongin had surprised you with a penthouse the night on your wedding. It was quite close to the beach, having view over the big ocean that it laid connected to the country. You were in awe by the view and by your husband who managed to arrange this for you as well. “I thought you were out of money?” You questioned him as you laid together on a lounge outside. “When it comes to you? Never. I’d give you the world if you asked me to. Only if you love me. You do love me, right?” “Only you.” You assured, kissing his lips sweetly as you smiled at him.

Unlike the other, like Jeongin having you in public. He didn’t want to hurt people unnecessary, but he wanted to show you off as if you were his most prized possession. You were still forbidden to have any male friends or contact with any other males besides him or some relatives that Jeongin had approved of.

Y/n’s best friends were some Jeongin didn’t approve of, but since the prohibition only applied to males, he couldn’t stop you. Your friends had been checking on you ever since they left the wedding and it made him fucking mental. He wanted them gone right now, or else he would have to punish you. And since you didn’t exactly do anything wrong, so he just needed to take out the problem.

What you didn’t know was that Jeongin had many assassins hidden in the city. In every corner there would be someone who watches you when you were out. Jeongin would let you explore the city on your own as he felt a little ‘unwell’. In reality he took care of that horrible friend of yours.

“You’re nosy.” Jeongin started as he had her tied down in a warehouse. Her crying state satisfied him. “If only you weren’t so clingy, this is your fault. If you just left my wife alone, I wouldn’t had to do this.” Her screams were like music to his ears as his assassin slowly took her out. He wanted her to suffer. She took so much precious time away from you, he could’ve gotten attention or love from you at those times.

“You will take it from here, right?” He asked his assassin, who nodded in confirmation. The girl screamed out in fear, muffled by the cloth was wrapped around her face. “Until never again!” Jeongin yelled, before he left. You could return home anytime soon.

Jeongin dragged his body out of bed when he heard you walk in. You came into the penthouse with loads of shopping bags. You pouted as you saw your husband in his unwell state and walked up to him to pull him in an embrace. “My love, did you have a nice day?” Jeongin asked whilst coughing, which made you pout again. Sad that your husband wasn’t feeling too well. “I would’ve been much happier if you would be there to share the day with me.” You whined as you hugged him.

“Now, how are you? Did the fewer go away?” You asked whilst checking his forehead with your hand. “I don’t think your hand does the job, I heard lips would work. Especially yours.” Jeongin whispered, making you giggle before kissing his forehead. “I promise to take you out tomorrow.” Jeongin sighed as he hugged you tighter.

“You should get better first. I don’t want you to be sick and walking around.” You said in a worried tone. “Shall we stay in our penthouse tomorrow then?” Jeongin offers. “Ours? You mean you bought this place?” “Of course my love, it’s perfect. It’s highly secured, it has a great scenery and we have everything we need up here. I provided for everything my love.” Jeongin assured as he kissed the top of your head, before you wen to bed to relax.

It was a hectic day for the both of you.

The next day you woke up in Jeongin’s arms. You immediately checked his forehead and you smiled to yourself when you felt that he didn’t had a fever anymore. Suddenly, your wrist was grabbed by your husband who just woke up as well, pulling you even closer to him. “Good morning my love.” “Good morning to you too handsome.” You whispered back before pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

He loved simple morning like this. He loved how the two of you could make it through a whole day with just cuddling and kissing. Jeongin might be a yandere, but the baby is soft when it comes to you.

You would spend the day by swimming in your private pool, whilst enjoying the view, which was basically each other. I mean look at him. He’s a really handsome young man and you surely wasn’t going to deny it. “Imagine being attractive.” He would often tease whenever you called him handsome. “Lucky you then, you don’t even have to imagine.” You would reply with a smirk. “W-wait, what?” Jeongin would be taken back by your sudden act of confidence as you swam around. “You heard me.” You said back as you wiggled your eyebrows playfully to him. “Come here you brat.” Jeongin muttered under his breath, before chasing you, making you squeal when he had caught you.

He peppered your face with kisses as he told you he loved you.

You were his now.

And nothing would stop him from keeping it that way.

A/N: Credits to the many otp prompts I randomly found on Tumblr.

Gifs aren’t mine.

I hope you liked it <3

@daebakshinki @klynvan

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dreamofkpop · 4 years

Text

Christmas shopping

Stray Kids 10th member AU

Charlie x Jaemin

Requested by anon // requests are open!! (I’m so sorry that this took like 50 years to get around to :/) (also sorry for the ending, it’s pretty crap)

(gif not mine! full credit to owner!)

December 19th

12:05 PM

“Finally ready to go?” Jaemin asked the second Charlie stepped out of the door, earning an immediate eye roll from the girl,

As she locked the door she replied. “Be quiet, you made me rush to get ready”

Jaemin gasped and slapped his hand over his chest, feigning offence. “I did no such thing!”

“Yes you did, idiot, now shall we go or stand here until we turn into icicles?” She turned down the hall and began walking, Jaemin jogging to catch up to her.

They made small talk as they walked down the stairs and out if the building, catching up on what had been going on in each other’s lives in the past week.

Stepping out onto the pavement a gust of cold wind suddenly blew past making them both shiver and as if his mind was on autopilot, Jaemin reached over and grabbed one of Charlies hands in his own and held it tightly, lacing their fingers together.

“Have you gotten all your gifts yet?” Jaemin casually asked as he tugged Charlie in the direction of their destination, blocking out the busy streets around them.

Charlie shook her head, her recently dyed hair flowing freely as she’d not been bothered to tie it up. “Almost! I’ve still got to get presents for Minho and Rose, still have no clue what she wants for Christmas though. Have you?” She looked up at him, her hair obscuring her vision as the wind blew past once again.

Before Charlie could move her free hand from the warmth of her pocket Jaemins hand has already reached up as he carefully pushed her hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear.

“There you go, there’s that beautiful face” He teased, a cheeky smile adorning his lips.

*click* *click* *click*

Charlie ignored the faint clicks coming from behind them and playfully punched him in the arm, mentally thanking the weather for making her cheeks red already. “Shut up you cheeseball, just answer the question!”

“Oh, right! Yeah, I’ve got...most things sorted...most” He hesitated, tilting his head to the side.

“Sure, okay, i’ll take your word for it” She snorted.

Jaemin huffed and pouted at the lack of trust Charlie had in him, making her laugh. She reached up and gently pinched one of his puffed out cheeks, the coldness of her fingers made him jump and reel back in surprise.

“Why are your hands so cold?!” He exclaimed. “You need to get a pair of gloves!”

“I think i’ll be fine” Charlie shrugged, looking away from him and out to the street. “Where are we going anyway?”

He glanced down at her for a second before looking back up and pointing towards a shop in the distance, the familiar sign barely visible over the sea of people.

“I know you haven’t eaten anything yet so we’re getting lunch then we’re going shopping- basically just spending the day together”

Charlie pushed the irrelevant thoughts to the back of her head and smiled as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you Jaem”

“Thanks aren’t necessary, I’m allowed to treat my best friend aren’t it?” He questioned as they came to a crossing, a smile also pulling on his lips.

*click* *click*

They sat across from each other in a booth, the warm restaurant lit up with single lightbulbs dangling from the ceiling.

Charlie’s eyes scanned over the menu and she had to stop herself from groaning. ‘This all sounds so delicious...but i’m supposed to be on that stupid diet...’ She thought as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawed at it.

“What’s that look for?” Jaemin suddenly asked.

As she looked up, something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. Through the slightly fogged up glass it looked like someone had a camera pointed directly at them from across the street, she shook off the sudden uncertainty and looked over at Jaemin.

“Huh? It’s nothing don’t worry” She shook her head and nervously toyed with the corner of the menu.

Jaemin sighed and cocked his head to the side, leaning closer. “No. I know that look, what’s wrong?”

‘I hate lying to him...’ She thought, unintentionally gripping the menu tighter. “It’s nothing Jaemin, I’m fine”

He shook his head again and leaned on his elbows with a huff. “We’ve been friends since we were like 5, i can tell when you’re lying and when something’s wrong with you. Now come on, what’s wrong?”

With a defeated groan Charlie dropped her head, her forehead smacking against the wooden table beneath her. “I’m so hungry, but i’m meant to be on a stupid diet”

Tutting, Jaemin placed his hand on her head and gently messed with the curls of her hair. “For what reason? You know you don’t have to diet, i keep telling you this”

*click* *click* *click*

The faint camera clicks that kept coming back went unnoticed by the two.

“Well not everyone is as sweet as you Nana, the stylists think i could be “better looking physically”” She raised her hand and did quotation marks before dropping them back onto the table.

“Until what? You’re a skeleton? No way, not on my watch” He gently placed his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and pushed her up until she sat up straight, an upset frown still etched onto her face.

Jaemin picked up the menu and opened it. “You are going to eat as much as you want, okay? Then we’re gonna go and do something to make you smile again because seeing you frown is the one thing i don’t want to see. Alright?”

1: 54 PM

“I feel like I’m being paranoid..” Charlie said, looking around the massive shopping center.

Jaemin tore his eyes from a shop window and looked down at her. “Why?”

Her grip on his upper arm tightened slightly. “I keep hearing a camera shutter, i don’t whether i’m going crazy or just being idiotic”

“I’m pretty sure it’s nothing, we’re in the middle of a busy city people area always taking pictures of something, don’t stress yourself out over it” He gently patted her hand that rested on his arm before walking again.

They continued to walk around, looking in shop windows but not actually going into any. That was, until they passed by store that immediately caught Charlie’s attention.

A book shop.

Charlie’s feet stopped before the building causing Jaemin to stop as well. “What is it?” He leaned down and asked,

“Book shop, i’m going in”

Without waiting for a reply she dropped her hand from his arm and wandered into the shop, the interior having a stark contrast to the rest of the shopping centre.

“I have never met a bigger bookworm than you, i swear you would live in a library if you could” Jaemin huffed as he followed her into the shop, his eyes widening at the sheer amount of books.

Charlie ignored him and walked further into the shop towards the shelves, a chuckle came from the older woman at the counter who watched them. “Hard to get someone’s attention when they’re surrounded by the things they love”

“Tell me about it...” Jaemin trailed off, glancing at the owner, a small chuckle at the end of his sentence.

“You two seem like a sweet couple” The woman said, catching Jaemin’s attention.

He shook his head. “No..we’re not dating, as nice as that would be, she’s practically my sister”

“That’s a shame, the two of you would be good together”

Before Jaemin could reply Charlie hopped over with a book in her palm and a smile on her face. “Look at this!” She held the book out to him.

Taking the book from her, he read over the title. “The Call of the Wild...sounds good” He nodded and handed her the book.

Charlie nodded. “I’m gonna buy it”

After paying for the novel and earning some sweet remarks from the shop owner the two walked out. As the continued down the floor, Jaemin’s hand immediately met hers and their fingers laced, his lips unconsciously pulling up into a smile when she leaned into his side.

*click* *click*

at some point they’d passed and ended up in the arcade, spending way too much money on the games. they both stood in front of different versions of the same game, competing against each other to see who could get a higher score.

“Ah nonono-WHAT” Charlie exclaimed as the balls she threw kept missing the 1000 points section and rolling down into the hundreds. “This game is rigged”

“Nope, you’re just terrible at throwing!” Jaemin laughed, watching the final points tally once the game had finished.

Charlie’s screen displayed 1,849 points while Jaemin’s had 2,325 points.

He cheered, jumping in a circle as the tickets slowly came out of the machine, pilling at the floor. Charlie huffed and picked hers up, folding them equally before stuffing the into her pocket.

“I won~ oh yeah oh yeah i won~” Jaemin did a small victory dance as he collected his tickets and stood back up,

Charlie pouted. “Stop showing off Mr. I’m-perfect-at-everything”

Jaemin threw his arm around her shoulder as they walked around to another machine, the DDR machine. “I’m not perfect at anything, i’m just good in a lot of things”

“We’re both dancers, we should be good at this, right?” He questioned as they both stepped onto the machine.

Charlie scoffed. “Speak for yourself Jaem, i’m about to beat you at this so hard!”

He turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh really? You’re on”

Charlie had picked a fast song, saying they should ‘challenge their abilities’ but she was quickly regretting that decision. the song was way too difficult.

Once it was over they collapsed with sighs. “Oh thank god finally! it’s over!” Charlie cheered, watching the points tally up as she leaned back against the pink barrier.

“HA HA TOLD YA I’D WIN!!!” She cheered as her screen displayed a glorious 3 thousand ish points while Jaemin’s was somewhere on the 2 thousands.

Jaemin huffed and sat down on the edge of the machine, pulling the plastic bottle of water he’d bought earlier from his pocket. “You’re always dancing, you’ve got better stamina than me”

Charlie laughed as she sat beside him and put her head on his shoulder. “Dude I’ve just come off a twisted ankle, i shouldn’t even be playing DDR”

“Are you hungry? Cause i’m getting hungry” Jaemin changed the subject, looking down at Charlie.

She nodded. “Yeah lowkey, i kinda want churros”

“Let’s go get churros then”

After obtaining their churros and walking around the store a little more the pair ended up on the top floor in the home section of a store, Jaemin dragging Charlie over to the candles the first chance she had.

“I think you’re addicted...” She said, munching on the chocolate dipped pastry as she watched her bestfriend stick his nose into various different candles and with his nose still pressed into a jar containing a light blue candle Jaemin turned his head and glared at her.

He kept his eyes on the display in front of him and muttered. “At least i’m not a book worm”

“Hey!” She defended and whacked him in the arm. “Being a bookworm isn’t a bad thing! It’s beneficial”

As he stood to his full height and wrapped his arm around Charlie’s shoulders, Jaemin snickered. “Alright, whatever you say”

*click* *click* *click*

The sounds that had been following them all day finally caught Jaemin’s attention. Attempting not to make it too obvious, he turned his head slightly towards the source of the sound and glance out of the corner of his eyes.

Noticing the source of the noise, he swiftly rolled his eyes and looked ahead once more, his arm purposely tightening over Charlie’s shoulders as they continued to walk.

Charlie suddenly yawned, her head resting against his shoulder.

“Tired?” Jaemin asked, looking down at her briefly. She nodded. “Wanna go get some coffee?”

She picked her head up off of his shoulder and shook it. “Later, i’ve still got to find something for Rosé” She lifted her arm that had a plastic bag looped around it containing the gift she’d bought for Minho earlier.

“Right, so where do you wanna go?”

Not long after they ended up in a perfume shop. Charlie moved away from Jaemin and over to one of the many glass cabinets, her eyes scanning over the different bottled.

“You seem to know exactly what you’re looking for” Jaemin chuckled as he joined her side, copying how she was leaning against the counter.

“Mhm” Charlie hummed. “Last time me and her came in her she had almost bought that-” she pointed at a bottle on one of the top shelves “-but ended up not, so i’m getting it”

“i thought you were all about personalised gifts?”

Charlie snorted. “For birthdays maybe, not Christmas” She quickly waved over one of the workers behind the counter, the woman scurrying over.

“How may i help?”

“Could i get that please?” She pointed up at the perfume. “Yes, the blue one”

While Charlie spoke with the woman and went over to the till to pay, Jaemin wandered out of the store, his eyes scanning his surroundings.

“Thank you” Charlie had said politely as the woman handed her the bag. “Hey Jaem we can-” She turned around, said boy nowhere in sight. “Oh god where’s he got to?”

She hurried out of the store, pulling her backpack around to carefully stuff the gift inside. Her head snapped both ways, searching for a familiar head of pink hair.

“This kid is gonna be the death of me” She huffed and dug her phone out from her pocket, immediately finding his contact and hitting call. As it rang she turned left and began walking

ring..

ri- “hello?”

“Na Jaemin, where did you run off to?”

He chuckled. “Turn around, idiot” Then the call dropped.

Charlie spun on her heels and he was there, a tray with two coffee cups balanced in his hand and a plastic bag hanging off his arm. “Could’ve told me where you were going, dumbass”

“hey, d’you want to coffee or not? I’ll go back” He threatened, pulling the tray back.

“no no no, don’t do that, i was joking” She rushed over to him, Jaemin laughed and handed her one of the cups, throwing the tray in a nearby bin. “thank you nana~” Charlie sang and leaned up, kissing his cheek gently before taking a sip of her coffee.

clicking her phone back on, she looked at the clock at the top of the screen. ‘3:49 PM’ was displayed across the screen.

“It’s not even that late, what should we do?” She asked, looking up at the boy beside her.

Jaemin thought for a moment, carefully sipping his drink. “Oh how about this, there’s a sweet shop by the entrance that’s closing down meaning everything’s on sale. We should go buy a bunch of snacks then go back to my dorm and watch movies”

“I think that’s the best thing you’ve said all day, come on” She grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

“Hey! I take offence to that!”

#female!straykids #stray kids 10th member #stray kids 9th member #stray kids imagines #stray kids oc #stray kids au #stray kids female oc #stray kids female addition #female!kpop #kpop female additions #kpop female oc #kpop oc #kpop au #stray kids #skz #stay #charlie kim #kim taeshin #stray kids charlie

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foolishlovebugbaby · 5 years

Text

moonlight melodies | part 1

princess!reader x scholar!chan

Summary: dancing, unfortunately, was not apart of the list of things you’re good at. luckily for you, chan’s adamant on changing that.

Word count: 9.8k

a/n: so just imagine chan’s a brunette and that this didn’t take me a century and a half to write. enjoy :))

“And five, six, seven, eight- a one, two, three- no! Step with the left foot! To your left your highness!- Maestro if you would please cut the music.” Your dance teacher stood at the far end of the ballroom, ears a blazing red as he frustratedly rubbed his temples. You could only mimic his level of frustration- God, did you have to have two left feet? You had passed through all your levels of etiquette training and learning how to formally address your subjects, courters, and members of the monarchy with perfect diction and fluency, but gracefully learning how to perform the waltz in a ball gown too poofy for its own good would be your royal demise.

So you stood in the center of the dance floor, face contorted in a mixture of frustration and humiliation at your dance capabilities (or lack thereof) while your practice partner bit down harshly on his lip to mask the profanities wanting to come out as a result of the blistering pain shooting from his feet that your heeled ones mercilessly stomped on.

“Your highness,” The instructor breathed out through tight lips, closing his eyes momentarily. “The masquerade ball is but a fortnight away, and we have yet to progress onto the promenade chassé! You’ve barely grasped the basics- I have no clue how on earth you’ll be able to dance the Viennese Waltz come the gala.” He rubs his cheeks frustratedly, and you snort at his vexation.

“Chill out, Minho, will you? I’ll be the one making a royal fool out of myself, so you’re safe.” You chuck off your practice heels to the side and stretch your toes in content. “These galas have always been a royal pain in the ass, so I don’t see why this is any different.” You huff, annoyed at the grandeur of it all.

Sure, being a princess required you to attend every gala, ball, party, whatever, as a way to make your presence known, but it had a way of turning mundane awfully quick. Like, by the second one, you were already over it. Dressing up and chowing down on all the hors d'oeuvres were the only highlights to any event that you went to.

“Madam, it is not just any other sissy gathering,” Minho said, standing straighter and looking quite offended. “It is a ball thrown in your honor. You’ve come of age to be courted, and all the finest young men in the kingdom and beyond will be attending in hopes to get a chance to dance with the Princess of the South.” He says that last part in a posh tone, and you can’t help but gag. He picks up the heels and dusts them off, walking over to hand them to you.

“Forgive me for being a smidge bit repulsed by the idea of having to find my one true love in a sea of stuck-up, unseasoned boys in order to be deemed worthy enough to rule my kingdom.” You say exasperatedly, head hot at the mere thought of it all. Since you were the sole heir to the crown (and you so happened to house a vagina instead of the preferred penile organ) people expected that you be married before ascending to the throne- which, to be frank, was a load of cow manure.

“Even you can agree that having a grand ball for men to seduce their way to the crown is getting pretty old.” You said, in a matter-of-fact tone. Minho sighed.

“What I believe is irrelevant, your highness. But tradition is tradition.” He kneels down, lifting up your leg to put on a heel.

“Traditions are meant to be broken.” You mutter, pouting incredulously.

“Perhaps. I’m not asking that you not break tradition, my lady.” He slips on the other heel as well. “Just that you try and look graceful while doing so.”

“Well if you put it that way...” You make a face, feeling bashful at yourself for being so indignant.

So maybe appearing at these dull parties were apart of the duties of being a royal, and, as luck would have it, meant that you had to learn how to waltz through the evening. But you supposed dancing with kiss-ups was a lot better than engaging in meaningless conversations with them.

When Chan became an Academic Scholar for the palace, he didn’t think becoming best-friends with the Count’s son was apart of his education plan. But alas, fate works in mysterious ways.

“Remind me again as to why we need to be present in the palace of the South two weeks before the gala.” He draws out, exhausted from what seemed to feel like an eternal horse ride to your kingdom. He had learnt two things on his journey; the first being that horse back is possibly the worst mode of transportation, and the second being that Princes’ are possibly the worst company on impossibly long journeys. Well, at least, the one he was riding with is.

From the Prince’s incessant whining to his numerous periodic ‘potty and tea’ breaks, Chan could’ve sworn he had died and gone to hell, and was living out his eternal suffering as a punishment for god-knows-what. But, then again, the sunny-side up to his grievances was that he could at least voice them out loud without fear of a public execution.

“We are going for the formalities, laddy. As well as for the diplomacy. Father says I need to be the face of the North in order to maintain active peace between our kingdoms, but if you ask me I call a load of horse dung on it.” The prince scowls. “It’s so blatantly obvious that he just wants me to lock it down with the Princess before the ball in hopes to gain an advantage over her other suitors.”

Chan furrows his eyebrows, “Are my ears deceiving me? Does the Prince Hwang Hyunjin detest the prospect of wooing a lady?” He mocks, and Hyunjin sneers at him.

“Keep running your mouth like that Chan and I’ll make sure the people have the juiciest tomatoes in the kingdom to chuck at you.” He says pointedly, “But if you must know, I’ve already met the Princess- a less than pleasant experience. She was always so... aggressive whenever we played hide and seek-”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you’ve completely discarded the possibility of romancing the only Princess in this bloody kingdom because of her attitude whilst playing hide and go seek when you were toddlers?” He says, astounded at the stupidity of his friend. One of the knights once said it always seemed like the Prince had a stick up his royal behind, but Chan could confirm that it was, in fact, excalibur up in there.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know what I mean. So far, as a result of all the collective impressions she has made, she definitely is not my type.” He puts emphasis on the word ‘not’ and Chan scoffs at him. “But perhaps my opinion will change come the masquerade ball.” Hyunjin raises an eyebrow to himself and momentarily thinks it over. “Hm, perhaps not as she did pin me as a joke during pin the tail on the jester.”

Chan could only roll his eyes. While he could understand astronomy and classical literature and the fundamental workings of the telescope, Aristocracy was a concept he would need 4 lifetimes and a half in order to grasp.

The rest of the last leg of their journey went just the same, with Hyunjin and him exchanging sarcastic banter while the entourage of the Prince tailed not too far back. Moments of silence were a rare occurrence, but Chan figures it was better than nothing at all.

“Gates up ahead!” A knight yells from behind as the metal monstrosities came into view. Sure, war and sieges were a quiet yet possible danger, but really? To have borders built that outlandish with that much security?

The foundations were made of thick slabs of rock stacked up on top of each other, chiseled to have some sort of semblance to a cuboid, and stretched out on either side to what seemed like the edge of the world. On its sides were two flagpoles bearing the royal family crest up high and mighty. The wooden grid gate was a dark mahogany reinforced with steel, adding to the overall undaunted demeanour the structure exuded. The tops were adorned with metal spikes with more miniature flags of the royal family crest peaking through the breaks, a gentle juxtaposition to the otherwise severe facade.

It was definitely a lot more intimidating and fortified that what the North had, and the entire entourage could only gulp in anticipation. While many had visited the kingdom before, Chan was a first-timer, and his dazed expression certainly gave it away. He always heard stories about the South and how it was known to be the more liberated state in comparison with the two, and how his nature professors raved about how lush the kingdom was.

The guards at the top of the watchtowers stared intently down at them, and soon enough even more come bursting through the side gates, ready for inspection. A knight from behind emerged and presented papers with the Northern royal insignia, and the two guards exchanged mutual greetings.

“Open the gates!” A southern guard shouted up to the men in the watchtowers, and slowly, the inside of the kingdom came into view.

Brick houses and quaint village shops lined the cobblestone streets, with children running up and down tirelessly playing under the spring sun. The air smelled heavenly- the scent of freshly baked Sunday buns coming from the village bakery. On the side, the morning market bustled with townspeople negotiating prices with sellers to get a better deal on the vibrant fresh produce. The villagers yelled out brightly, a mix of greetings and laughter and heated negotiations, and Chan’s never seen somewhere so alive before.

Chan’s in awe at the picture-perfect scene in front of him, and they haven’t even rode into the main square yet.

If you were to be nit-picky about the most dreadful stage in preparing for an event, it wouldn’t be the entrance practices, or the dance training. It wasn’t even the horrid memorising of the monstrous guest list, though that certainly was a close second. Oh no, it was the absolutely abominable dress fittings that you swore took a lifetime and a half to finish. It was a mystery as to why it took that long, really, because you’d gladly walk out in anything- even a nightgown.

Which is the exact reason as to why your seamstress was unbelievably burdened by your lack of active input.

“Would your highness prefer satin or silk?” The seamstress seethes with tight lips, more so out of frustration and anger, and you look at her sheepishly through the reflection on the mirror.

You stood on a raised platform situated directly in front of an obnoxiously big mirror with a corset cutting off your circulation and a large crinoline fastened onto your waist to see how different silhouettes would look on your figure. Not the prettiest sight, admittedly, as you held semblance to a skeleton rather than a lady.

“Uhm, silk?” You say diffidently. In your defence, you had never been taught Fabrics 101 and so you supposed that you didn’t exactly qualify to have an opinion on what fabrics or cuts or colours a debutante princess should wear.

She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a breath through her gritted teeth, and you swore you could see smoke steaming from her ears.

“Silk it is.” She said curtly and you nod along.

She hung her measuring tape around her neck and stalked over to the side of the room, where a large wooden trunk sits collecting dust. With much effort and a stream of mumbled profanities, she dragged it over to you and opened it with a click.

“Does your highness have any preferences on a structure of mask?” You peered down at the box, viewing all the old and used masks stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Some with elaborate feathering attached, others with an assortment of austentatious jewels from rubies to jade lining the frame. Some were vividly emerald with a delicate satin sheen while others were a somber matte black. How could you possibly choose, you thought to yourself, when a myriad of masterpieces sat before you?

“Surprise me?” You quipped, unsure of yourself, knowing for certain you wouldn’t mind the final product as you knew the craftsmen were masters at their art. “Just make sure it’s not too… wild I suppose.” You added and the seamstress nodded, slightly pleased that you gave a single specification in your 5-hour session. An improvement from the last indeed.

She began to hold up numerous plain full-face masks up to your head, each a different size from the last, in order to find a suitable size that complimented your features well.

You were giddy in place at the thought of the process coming near to an end, wanting nothing more than to go back into your library and read another Jules Verne novel, when, “Master Minho had instructed me to send you back to the ballroom for more rehearsals, my lady. And he requests that you remain in your fittings.”

You wanted to curse, but there wasn’t a word that had been conjured up as of yet to fully encapsulate the amount of apprehension that bubbled inside you. So you groaned excessively, slumping where you stood.

“But I was so excited to get these contraptions off! Please please please at least take the crinoline off? I feel like a Leonardo Da Vinci project in the making.” You whined and made puppy dog eyes at her, and she looked at you with pity.

You could practically see the amount of protest and conflict that went on in her head through her expressions, because dealing with a displeased Minho was a terror and a half, but how could one resist the puppy dog eyes of the palace treasure?

Clearly, not the seamstress. “Okay, but you better do exceptionally well at practice today.” She huffed and began unclasping the abomination around your waist, as well as loosened up the damned corset which you were very much grateful for.

“You’re the best!” You yelped, and she looks at you with a hint of a smile on her features but masked it with a roll of her eyes. “You still need to wear a practice mask on.” She commented, but you were just happy you didn’t have to wear a cage around your legs. She handed you a black satin mask that only covered half of your face, and sent you off.

You always loved walking through the palace hallways. It felt like they were endless, going on and on until they reached the other side of the world. If you tried hard enough, you could get lost in them. But that sort of bliss would remain utterly untouchable, however, as Minho came into your line of view with his hands on his hips and an impatient scowl on his features.

“You’re late.” He said monotonously, and you’d be scared if it weren’t for the fact that he looked like a kitten. A very hostile one, but a kitten nonetheless.

“By, like, a minute.” You brushed his accusatory glare off and saunter into the ballroom.

“Just for that I’m making you wear your event heels.” His head was held up high, and you wondered if you could indulge in exercising authoritarianism just for this moment.

“Sometimes I wonder whether I’m even royalty anymore.”

“Not with those dance skills you’re not.” “Minho!”

As a scholar, Chan had the privilege to travel far and wide, experiencing and immersing himself into an array of different cultures, cuisines and religions, only to come back and record his stories of his wondrous adventures and teach all that he had learnt. His favorite part, however, was being able to hear copious amounts of unique dialects and tongues and how the people of the world conversed.

He’s a language nerd, to keep it frank.

Which is why, after 6 excruciating hours of dress fittings, Chan could spew every single profanity known to mankind in all the 7 languages he knew without being called out for being a foul mouth.

Even then, none could encompass the amount of maliceness he held for dress fittings.

Mumbling a string of incoherent obscenities under his breath, he kicked the rocks beneath him and he walked along the palace grounds, hands shoved in his pockets.

“God, I can’t even count on both hands how many times I’ve been poked by those damned sewing needles... “ He sneers and kicks at the ground beneath him, disorienting a few pebbles. “At least the tailor called me fit.” Silver linings were for hopeless optimists, and so, naturally, they were for Chan.

As he entered the palace’s garden walkway, he could hear faint humming in the distance. If he were any more distracted, he would have missed it- but he didn't. He was certain he could hear an obscure melody floating through the air- pitchy? Yes. But a melody nonetheless, and Chan was not about to judge the person when he could not put a face to the music.

Cautiously, he followed the string of faint notes through the garden’s meticulous and intricate landscape, being careful not to take a mis-step and ruin the delicate conglomerate of ornate flora and fauna. It didn’t help that it was the dead of night- the sky a misty navy blue with the pale crescent moon being the only source of light illuminating the fields. But, Chan being Chan, continued his peculiar late-night quest to find the out-of-tune songstress.

And find her he did.

He reached the center of the garden- a large, octagonal marble platform with large, renaissance limestone pillars on each point and an extravagant two-tiered fountain smack dab in the middle of it all. But it wasn’t the luxurious marble or the fountain with vines and flowers of all different kinds lining its base that had caught his attention- it was the barefoot maiden in a white tunic and burgundy midi-skirt dancing as if she had two left feet, to the tune of her own voice that did. Her back was facing him, so she had yet to acknowledge his presence, but he was fine with just watching.

She stumbled clumsily, every beat horrendously off while her toes betrayed her as she attempted to recall the music. Was that Johann Strauss? He couldn’t be sure, for her humming could be mistaken for the monotonous hum of a metalloid contraption. It amused him, really, how talentless one could be when it came to a simple one-two-step. He couldn’t help but lean on a pillar and watch her from afar, silently chuckling to himself when he heard her slew of profanities each time you messed up. He liked her determination, he concluded, and her efforts to improve despite all her errors.

There was a brief moment in time where she twirled around and Chan got a fleeting glimpse of her face- only, it wasn’t her face. It was partially covered in a mask, the black satin glimmering in the moonlight, and chan’s hand instinctively went to his back pocket where he had shoved his own as he hurried out the fitting room a couple of moments ago. He decided that if she was disguised, he would be too- for the sake of the enticing mystery, of course.

“You’re terribly off beat.” She gasped, startled, whipping around to look at him and he could only chuckle at her appalled expression, lips agape and eyes wide. “Excuse me?” Her tone was defensive, accusatory, confused and terrified all at once.

Remarkable.

“You move after each count, when you should be moving with the count.” He explained, standing straighter and slowly made his way towards her. She raised a shaky hand up.

“Don’t come any closer,” Her tone was timid, but there was an edge to her voice. “Who are you?” She questioned, looking straight into Chan’s masked eyes. Her gaze was strong and curious behind her mask, and he stared back with the same intensity.

“Who are you?” He questioned back teasingly, and she scoffed. She crossed her arms, “I asked first.” She said pointedly.

He bit back a smile, enjoying the teasing a little too much for his own good.

“Okay,” He looked around in contemplation, “I’ll give you a hint. I’m not from here.” He shoved his hands inside his pockets casually. “Your turn.”

“I am from here.” She replied back, annoyed. “You must have come from the North, correct?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged, slightly taken aback by her sudden assumption.

“Well, I’m not offbeat.” She huffed and a pout made its way onto her lips. Chan couldn’t help but chuckle at her denial. “How long have you been standing there anyway?” She asks, and he suddenly felt bashful at the realisation of how creepy he must come off after observing her like that. He thanked the Gods that his mask covered his crimson cheeks.

He cleared his throat and swallowed down his embarrassment. “Long enough to know that you are offbeat.” He retorted, and she scoffed again at his reply, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t know that you were a dance prodigy.” She mumbled under her breath, offended and humiliated at the thought of a random stranger watching her stumble over herself. Her gaze shifted from his eyes to the flower vines, and she couldn’t help but curse at the Gods for making her so talentless.

“I’m not, but I know enough to get by.” He took another step closer to her, until they stood at arms length, and stretched out a hand. “I could teach you.” He didn’t know why he offered, but the urge to help her learn the waltz was compelling. At least, that’s what he told himself as he nervously peered into her masked moonlit orbs. And anyway, what was a scholar supposed to do in the dead of night? Sleep? Unheard of.

Her eyes went wide at the suggestion, “I don’t even know you- h-how do I know you’re not going to kill me?” She stammered and took a step back. He recoiled his hand.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. But I understand your hesitation.” He began to slowly back away, knowing that when he reached his room he would be staring at a tomato in the mirror. “My offer still stands.” With that, he turned and walked off.

She didn’t know why her breath hitched in her throat and why her mouth felt dry and scratchy as her mind debated on whether or not to accept his offer. She always thought she was logical and smart, but as she yelled “Wait!” she couldn’t help but feel reckless and everything but.

“I-I accept.” She stammered, her heart hammering in her chest.

He turned around shocked, “What?” He heard her loud and clear, but the mere likelihood of her accepting a strange masked man’s offer to teach a dance class was, statistically speaking, zero to none and went against all the maps of logic and reasoning that the universe laid out. But I digress.

“I said I’ll accept your offer.” Her voice was timid yet confident, an air of intrigue and uncertainty swimming around her. “But just know that if I’m found hurt, the castle would have your head.” Of course there was a catch, and Chan did not know what to make of that statement. Was she an important person? Was she bluffing? So many questions, not enough dancing.

He walked towards her for the second time that night. “You can trust me,” He held out his hand, his eyes trained on her own curious ones that peered up at him.

She took a breath and gently laid her hand in his. “Okay. This is me trusting you.”

Mornings are always difficult.

You always found it hard to get out of your thick comforters and ‘seize the day’, as they say. You would rather seize your dreams by the neck and hold onto the fleeting adventures in your brain. You could be a traveler, a dragon and a knight all within the span of your six-hour slumber rather than a princess in a castle too big with walls too high.

That night you had dreamt you were in the palace gazebo with a masked man so handsomely illuminated by the moon that you thought your mind had conjured it up as a result of your lackluster experience when it came to men.

Only, it wasn’t a dream. He was doubtlessly there, as solid as the ground you stood on- you’d know that because your felt the firmness of his shoulder against your palm and the calluses on his fingertips against your own. And it was everything but lackluster.

You sat up from your bed, the haze of last night’s endeavours fresh and vivid as though they were playing right before your half-lidded eyes, and you couldn’t help but groan at yourself.

“Reckless and stupid…” You mumbled, rubbing your temples vigorously while trying to suppress the growing grin forming on your lips. Spoiler alert: you failed to do so even as your teeth clamped down on them. You let out a dreamy sigh and crashed back down onto your pillows.

You closed your eyes, recollecting the moonlight of yesterday as it played back in flashes.

“Okay. This is me trusting you.” The Gods upstairs must be frowning down at you and your carelessness, you thought to yourself as you held onto the strange man’s hand. But screw the Gods- if Jules Verne had taught you anything, it’s that you need to be reckless in order to find an adventure.

A smile graces his plump lips and you can’t help but admire the cute indentations on the sides of his cheeks, taking note of the faint red tint seeping from under his mask. His hands, you realised, are much more bigger than yours- they engulfed yours in a stomach-turning warmth and felt sturdy against your shaky ones.

“Well then, shall we begin?” He says, his voice deep and thick with an accent you had never heard before. You nod and gulp, slightly in awe at the whole ordeal and impossibly nervous. You grew increasingly aware of how clammy your hands must have felt and how hard your heart was pounding in your chest- you might just go into cardiac arrest, you thought, but that was a risk you clearly were willing to take.

He held your hand firmly in his and proceeded to place your other one onto his shoulder. “May I?” He asks cautiously, his free hand ghosting over your side and you nod, feeling another round of heat spreading through your cheeks and neck. His warm palm rests on the small of your back, and you can’t help but have your mind go into a frenzy at the feeling. You felt utterly thrilled and stupendously stupid all at the same time.

“I’m assuming you know the basic movements and foot placements, correct?” He asks again and you snort. “Of course, I’m not that bad.” You defend and he smiles. “That is for me to decide, m’lady.” You scoff and squeeze at his shoulder, not being able to control the bashful smile making its way onto your lips.

He hums the song you attempted just moments ago, and the air fills with his melodic voice. He had the voice of an angel, you thought to yourself as he bobbed his head to fall into the proper count.

“And one, two, three-” He takes a step back, then to the left, and another to the right and you realised how much of a narc your feet were as you continuously missed each beat and stomped on his foot. Your eyes are trained to the floor where your feet are, and you thank the Gods that you are barefoot- had you been in anything else, he would have entered a different world of pain.

You shoot your gaze back up at his contorted face and you could not help but wince. “So maybe I am that bad.” You quip, and he only chuckles. “Yes- but don’t worry. You just need to relax, loosen up. Don’t be so nervous.” He says calmly, and your mind teeters at the thought of him knowing how fast your heart rate was going. “Just follow my lead.” His gaze never trains off of you, and he begins humming the same tune. Only, you could not just relax and loosen up given the situation you were in, and so your eyes immediately darted to the floor below you in hopes you would not mess up.

He stops his humming. “Eyes on me,” His voice is soft and gentle as he brings his hand up to your jaw to lift your gaze to his. You gulp and bite down on your bottom lip out of sheer restlessness. “You need to trust yourself- here you are trusting a complete stranger and yet you can’t even count on yourself to go with the music.” He says teasingly, and a displeased pout forms on your lips. “Easier said than done.” You mumble.

“You’ve got this,” He says with an encouraging smile, and you puff out your cheeks. “I hope you’re right for the sake of your feet.” He laughs.

His humms fill the air again, and it took all your mental capacity to keep your eyes steady on his. You blamed it on your second nature to look down at the floor whenever you danced- it certainly was not due to the fact that his soft brown eyes remained constantly on yours. Definitely not because his features- at least, the ones visible- were incredibly distracting in the moonlight. Oh no, none of those. At all.

He moves steady and slow, allowing you to pace yourself throughout the steps which you were incredibly grateful for- something foreign to you thanks to the trauma of Minho’s fast-paced counts. His body is sturdy and confident, guiding you through each stride with such ease and elegance. And before you knew it, you were both moving in sync- your legs naturally following and mirroring his own movements each time. Albeit shaky and far from elegant, it was definitely a level-up from the previous endeavour.

He smiles at you and you can’t help but beam back, “See? You’re doing it,” He says mid-hum and resumes right from where he left off, a proud grin on his face. Just like your movements, your lips mirror his elated ones and you continued to move through the platform for a few more paces until he finished the last note.

You were slightly out of breath- partly because of moving that briskly for the first time and also because the man before you managed to take your breath away simply with his gaze- and, involuntarily, you let out a quiet squeal. “I can’t believe I just did that,” You say in shock at yourself, a sense of pride filling your chest.

He only laughs at your epiphany as he held onto you, “I told you~” He sings, and you pinch his bicep playfully for his teasing. “I totally could have navigated through it by myself.” You say sarcastically, and he snorts at your comment. “You’re welcome.” He says pointedly.

“Thank you, I really mean it.” He smiles at your gratefulness, “Don’t mention it.”

You both stood towards the edge of the pavilion, your hand still in his and on his shoulder whilst his arm encircled your waist. Both of your chests rose and fell in sync, and for a moment you’re both silent- eyes still trained on each other while the crickets sang in the background. Of course, with all things exciting, the Gods decided that awkwardness was a must.

He steps back and clears his throat, his arm letting go of your waist and his hand falling back to his side, after realising just how close your bodies were to each other. You almost shiver at the loss of contact, feeling cold in the absence of his warmth. You scratch the back of your neck and wobble back and forth on your heels, feeling the air become dense with awkward tension.

“S-so uhm, you’ve definitely improved a lot since, well, since the last time I saw you- which really wasn’t that long ago so I’d say that’s a win.” He rambles, his gaze darting towards all eight corners of the gazebo, trying to look everywhere but at you. Which was fine, since you were doing the exact same thing.

“Y-yeah- still got a long way to go before the ball.” You say sheepishly, leaning back on a pillar to your left and twiddling with your thumbs.

“You’re going to be at the ball?” He questions, with a cute tilt to his head and you nod. “Will you?” You’re slightly hopeful- what are the chances of ever meeting this strange, alluring man again? “Maybe.” You can see him wink behind his mask and you roll your eyes.

“I could teach you again, if you want.” He suggests from beside you, and you hear his breath hitch. Your mind goes wild- what does one even say to that? Yes? No? Absolutely? Absolutely not? “I don’t want to waste your time with this though,” You settle on the courteous thing to say, even though your heart yelled at you to be selfish and seize the opportunity before it went away forever.

“It wouldn’t be a waste of my time- I could teach you at night, the same time as now.�� He insists, and there’s a war going on in your head to accept. “And anyway, you’re still terribly ungraceful.” He smirks playfully, and you roll your eyes at his incredulousness.

“Well, if you insist.” You retort, and he grins. You could feel butterflies flare in your stomach, the buzz of the situation at hand making you feel absolutely wondrous. The masked stranger was charming and enthralling, and if you didn’t know any better you would have thought he was an apparition-a trick of the moonlight. Maybe you didn’t know any better, but that's besides the point.

“Well, I’ve got to go now.” You say wistfully, wanting to stay longer but knowing that the palace would be turned inside-out if you weren’t back in your chambers before midnight. His expression falls, much like yours, but his eyes are hopeful. “Tomorrow, same time?” He asks, and you bite back a smile.

“I’ll be here.” You drag your feet along the marble slowly, still facing him as you back away, before sending a final smile and turning around to walk off, your heart doing back flips in your chest. You don’t even make four strides when his warm hand wraps around your wrist.

“May I please know your name?” He breathes out, and you’re at a loss for words. For the first time in your life, someone was not bowing to you every time you made eye contact. For the first time in your life, someone could tease you and make playfully snide remarks without hesitation and fear. For the first time in your life, someone was unapologetically straightforward with you. And for the first time in your life, you were able to detach from your identity as a princess and remain completely you.

“Try again next time,” You say playfully after contemplating.

He sighs with a smile, and you head back to the palace, a skip in your step and the feeling of his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

You have a stupid smile on your face at the breakfast table, much to your parents confusion and delight. “What’s got you so elated, dear?” Your mother questions with her brows furrowed, chewing on her omelete.

“Oh nothing, just a book I read.” You lie on the spot and feel your face heat up, turning your gaze back down onto your plate of breakfast pastries. “Must be some book.” Your father says, and you let out a knowing chuckle.

“Sweetheart, some troops and dignitaries of the North have come for the ball, and so has the Prince, so I’d suggest you make yourself well acquainted with them during their stay at the palace.” Your mom quips and you sit up straighter. “Hyunjin is here?” There’s a displeased tone to your voice, and it’s clear that your mom doesn’t appreciate it.

“Yes, and I expect you to make nice, just like old times.” She says pointedly and you puff out your cheeks. You see, it’s not that you didn’t like the Prince, but you didn’t exactly like him either- he always seemed rather... displeased by your antics and so you never really moved past royal formalities.

“How are your dance lessons going, dear?” Your father asks you in his booming voice, and you have to laugh.

“How do you think they’re going?” You retort and he makes a face at you. “I do hope you’ve at least improved from the last time we saw you dance,” You parents exchange looks, “It’s high time that the Princess is able to dance through the evening without ripping the ends of her gown.” You roll your eyes at that and groan.

“That happened only twice, father, and if you ask me, those gowns needed some edge to them.” It was your parents’ turn to roll their eyes at you. It was no secret that you, the Princess, resembled a dismembered horse whenever you danced- even if it were a secret, it clearly was not a very well-kept one. Which was fine, since the subject of your blundering dance capabilities only saw the light of day whenever an event as grand as a ball became the talk of the town. But jokes get old, and so do the labels that deemed you nothing more than an ungraceful royal, so your determination to prove anyone and everyone wrong grew more and more each day.

Your masked dance instructor certainly increased your will tenfold.

After breakfast, your parents wasted no time in shooing you off to the dance hall, saying something along the lines of “a full stomach means bountiful results of labour.” much to your dismay.

Time is money, and that certainly was the mantra that Minho exuded as he wasted no time in directing you through all the warm-ups and floor routines with your dance partner. You took a deep breath and imagined that you were back at the gazebo, in the arms of someone you didn’t fully know.

Trust yourself.

Do you trust me?

You’re doing well, just remember to count each beat in your head.

I told you you could do it.

Eyes on me.

It felt like you were floating as the maestro played each melody, your eyes dazed as your mind played back each step on repeat. Unbeknownst to you, you had successfully ran through the routine without stepping on your partner and staying on count- for the most part.

“Well, my lady, I am pleasantly surprised at this drastic improvement,” Minho’s eyes are wide and sparkly and full of shock at the fact that you stayed on beat for the majority of the dance, and you can’t help but chuckle at his dramatic bewilderment. “What in heaven’s name has gotten into you?” He questions genuinely, and your mouth goes wide in disbelief.

“Don’t sound too shocked, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve stayed on count.” He makes a face. “Okay, so maybe it is.” You mumble curtly and proceed to fold your arms over your chest like an offended child- which you were, but that’s besides the point.

“Does this improvement call for a celebratory, well-earned 2-day break?” You ask, half jokingly and half absolutely serious, and clasp your hands together hopefully. His face goes back to blank and he straightens up.

“Absolutely not- you’re still astonishingly shabby and lumbering, your posture is horrendous and-”

“Okay I get it, a simple ‘no’ would have been sufficient, thank you very much.” You sneer, and he smiles sarcastically back at you.

“You’re welcome.”

Minutes, seconds, hours, days, months, years- you didn’t know just how long practice took until you stepped out of the ballroom, feet covered in blisters and an ache in your back, to a haze of purple and orange in the sky, the sun just about to touch the horizon. You’re exhausted and drained, and, if it were up to you, you’d have ran away right there and then but you couldn’t, because the sores on your feet laughed at your futile attempts to even walk.

Okay, that was a tad dramatic. You could walk, but you figured playing it up a little would somehow garner the attention of your very powerful parents to do something about Satan’s Incarnate, Minho, and get you a few practice-free days.

But of course, your parents were not in the throne room, or the dining area, or even in their chambers- the reason being an impromptu visit to the eastern provinces for diplomatic purposes as you later came to find out. You could almost hear the Gods snickering at your turmoil.

So you dragged your sore feet to the palace library, ready to delve into another chapter of another book that peaked your interest even though your mind would betray you and saunter back to your masked instructor gleaming in the moonlight.

He was all you thought about, even as you vividly imagined strangling Minho, he remained in the back of your mind. If you tried hard enough, you can almost feel him again- firm arms and everything. Your heart raced at the thought of meeting for the second time tonight.

A loud thump echoed through the library, and you freeze in place, a hand outstretched towards a bookshelf, your heart startled from the sudden noise. “Who’s there?” You question loudly.

“Sorry!” A muffled and strangled voice yells from the other side, and your head darts in all directions to get a glimpse.

You clamber down from the step-stool you had been on and investigate, peeking your head through every aisle and row from the piles of encyclopedias to the endless collections of literature. But, in an aisle labelled Astronomy, a pale, curly-haired stranger sits disheveled with a thick volume of books strewn on the floor, pages exposed haphazardly and face-down. You raise your eyebrows, and he smiles sheepishly at you.

“The collection fell as I was trying to get it out.” He explains, cheeks tinted rouge while he bent down to pick them up. You bend down as well, gathering as many as you can and flattening out the bent pages.

“Thank you for your help,” He says gratefully, and you smile at him. “No problem.” You’ve come to the conclusion that you absolutely have no recollection of who this is, and what his name is or where he’s from, but there’s a strange sense of familiarity that wrecks your brain. The way he talks sounds so familiar, but you can’t quite put a finger on it. He’s clad in a white dress shirt and a burgundy vest over top, with black slacks to match, and you notice the insignia on the left side of his breast pocket. A Northerner.

You notice as well that he’s handsome- thick dark hair that curled at the tips with rosy skin and eyes that looked as though they were dipped in honey- but nevermind that.

“May I please know your name?” He asks and you’re snapped out of your analytical trance. You say your name, and he looks as though he’s seen a ghost.

“Y-your highness- forgive me, I did not know it was you,” He’s kneeling on one knee and his head is bowed, and you feel bashful at the sudden formality. Princess. Right.

You curtsy and nod your head, “It’s okay, my apologies for not introducing myself. May I know your name?”

He’s about to speak when, “Channie boy! Where are you? The palace has got so many great-” You can immediately imagine a face to match the voice, and your suspicions are confirmed the moment his tall figure saunters into the aisle.

“Ah, Princess y/n. Delighted to see you again.” He cuts himself off and stride over to you, bending to bow and taking your hand to place a chaste kiss on the back of it. He does this because he knows how squeamish it makes you feel, and your distress entertains him too much.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Prince Hyunjin.” You curtsy and fold your hands over each other behind your back, shooting lasers with your eyes at the boy in front of you. “Chan, I see you’ve met Her Royal Highness.” Hyunjin says that last part pointedly and sarcastically, and you feel like shoving him into a pit of snakes.

“Indeed I have.” The stranger, Chan, says curtly with a tight smile, obviously noticing the blunt tension between the two of you.

“Well, Princess, unfortunately my scholar and I have some business to attend to,” Hyunjin and Chan are exchanging a conversation with their eyes and you find it amusing how strange it would look out of context. “So we shall bid you farewell for now. Hope you have a good night.” You exchange bows again and soon enough the two men were off, their seemingly hyper conversation being drowned out by the enormity of the library.

So he’s a scholar, you repeat in your head and smile in amusement. Since when did the prince hang out with scholars?

There’s nothing more nerve-wracking to Chan than having to wait. But in retrospect, he did come a little too early than what was expected, his excitement and nervousness not allowing him to sit still until he found himself in the grandeur of the palace gazebo.

Could you blame the guy? His mystery woman was all he thought about, even as Hyunjin dragged him around the palace to look at god knows what, and he could not help but hope to see her in the palace by coincidence even if he did not fully know what she looked like. Consequently, he ended up looking like a fool on a wild goose chase, with Hyunjin interrogating him about why he looked like he was after hidden treasure more than he would have liked.

So he walked around a few times, then another few times, with each time eliciting a sigh from his lips and a puff of his cheeks, until the golden hues were long gone and were replaced by a dark night sky looming above him. He was wearing the same mask again, even though he felt as if he looked absolutely stupid in it, and made sure he practiced the routine a few times so that the information he parted wasn’t complete and utter horse dung.

Thanks to the fact that the palace clock tower was easily seen from his vantage point, it felt as though the clock hands were mocking him, saying ‘ha! It’s been two hours, get a grip!’. Any rational person would have left after thirty minutes- an hour, at most, but rational was not apart of Chan’s dictionary.

Maybe she’s not coming tonight, he thinks to himself, and he can feel the heat stain his cheeks for being so hopeful.

“I’m sorry- have you been waiting long?” She’s panting and there’s a sheen of sweat slick on her forehead, but she’s here. He jumps slightly, startled by her sudden and unexpected appearance, and scratches the nape of his neck.

He smiles sheepishly, “Not at all, just got here a few minutes ago.” Yeah, if one hundred and thirty eight minutes were considered as ‘a few’. She smiles at him with her half-covered features, and he thinks the wait was worth it.

“Shall we begin?” He nods, finding her straight-forwardness cute, and takes her hand in his.

“Will I ever know your name?”

They’re sitting side by side on the steps of the gazebo, and Chan’s slightly out of breath from all that dancing. It had been a good couple of hours since they had started the night, the dark starry sky freckled with stars blanketing their horizon, and neither of them had any plans to head back to the palace.

“That depends,” She chuckles from beside him, “Will I ever know yours?” She says playfully and turns to look at him, her masked eyes gleaming with the slightest crescent-moon curve to them. He’s dying to know what she looks like, but he guesses time will only tell.

“Alright then. What’s your relationship with the royal family? I’m assuming you’d have to either work under them or be apart of them to live in the palace.” He doesn’t notice her gulp out of nervousness.

“You could say I know them, sure.” She says half-heartedly.

He contemplates her response, “Do you know the princess?” Though brief, his run-in with the Princess was one he had yet to live down, with the embarrassment of questioning who she was a complete blunder on his part. It was so obvious she was goddamn royalty, what with her stately attire and astonishingly regal features- were all royals exceptionally good-looking? Was the good-genes pool reserved for the throne? Chan’s certainly met a fair amount of underwhelming-looking aristocrats during his time, but the Princess of the South was definitely not classified as such.

He doesn’t know that her heart beats a million miles a second at his question.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” She says playfully in attempt to mask the irony. “Why? Do you know the Prince?” She challenges. “What if you are the Prince?” She says exaggeratedly and he can only laugh.

“Ding-dong your answer is wrong,” She laughs. “I could never last being a royal.” He says and she tilts her head to the side.

“And why is that?”

“Well, I just don’t think being at the receiving end of a life of servitude is my sorta thing. And, between you and me,” He leans over playfully, “It seems like all royals do is demand this and demand that, since they’re born into a life that requires them to not work for anything.” It’s not that he hates royalty with every fibre of his being- and he isn’t one to complain, since he has basically been interwoven into that lifestyle after joining the Scholar’s court. But seeing life from the perspective of someone who has had to work for everything and of one who has had to work for nothing unsettles him- the unfairness of it all leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“I think you’re mistaken,” She replies with conviction, and he turns his gaze onto her. “They never really asked for that life, and, sure, being born into something makes you ignorant but to assume that all of them are the same is ignorant as well. Maybe some are waiting for their turn to make an actual difference, and maybe some are doing their best behind closed doors because everything they do and say is recorded by everyone around them.” She rambles, staring at the ground with her fist clenched on the marbe below it and Chan stares in awe. “I mean, that’s just my take. Just a guess.” She follows up quickly, the tips of her ears turning red.

He’s floored by her response, mostly because he’s been surrounded by people with the same ideology (save for the royals themselves, of course) that it’s refreshing to hear something different. His curiosity towards her only skyrockets.

“I’ve… never thought of it that way.” He says slightly dazed as he stares at his outstretched, boot-clad feet.

“Well, you learn something new everyday.” She says, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on them, facing him and flashing a small smile. It makes his heart skip a beat, but he shrugs it off as the pollen grains triggering his allergies.

They stay in comfortable silence for a few minutes, his eyes never leaving hers and letting the autumn air breeze by them, until the clocktower rumbles, signalling that midnight has fallen. She breaks their gaze and looks up, “I’ve got to go.” She sounds unwilling to, and Chan almost tells her to stay. Almost.

“Will I see you again tomorrow night?” He stands up along with her, his voice hopeful, and her eyes answer for her before her voice does. “Yes.”

“Well then,” He takes a step back and grabs her hand in his, “This is goodnight.” He bows like a gentleman and leaves kiss on her knuckles, his heart soaring at the feeling of her soft skin against his lips. He looks up to see her biting her shy smile away and a grin makes its way onto his face. “Goodnight to you too.” She squeaks out and looks him in the eye one last time before scuttering off into the garden, her silhouette shrouded by the trees.

He already misses being close to her.

You’ve come to the conclusion that only a specific stranger in a mask can make the butterflies in your stomach act as though they’re on acid, which is completely fine with you.

“Good evening Princess, fancy seeing you here.” Hyunjin greets dryly, his straight posture making him look as wound tight as ever, and you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“I sort of live here, Prince Hyunjin.”

It amazes you how you had managed to run into him out of all people within the enormous palace, but you figured that it was punishment for all the immature pranks you had pulled on him when you were younger. In your defense, scaring him was the only pleasure you took, not the crying and screaming part.

“I know that.” He retorts just as dry. “Why are you lugging such a big record player around? And why the mask?” His head tilts perplexedly at the machine twice your size cradled in your arms, and you gulp- how were you going to explain your way out of this one?

“My dance instructor is making me practice in my chambers?” It comes out more like a question and you thank the gods you have a mask to cover the sheer audacity on your face. His face contorts even more in confusion, as if it were even possible. “But your chambers are that way?” He points directly behind you. God dammit Hyunjin, can’t you just let a girl live?

You clear your throat, “Well, I meant my other chambers.” You don’t have a second room, but you’re relying on his gullibility to save whatever dignity you have left. “Anyways, can’t chit chat, I must get back to practicing my dance moves.” You excuse yourself quickly and start making a beeline around him.

“But it’s late-”

“Have a good night!” You’re desperate at this point- you were already running late thanks to having to find and carry your father’s record player around your obscenely large palace, you didn’t need a nosy Hyunjin interrogating your motives to add on to your tardiness.

“Oh, Princess! Before you go, have you happened to see Chan around by any chance?” Hyunjin yells from behind you, but your foot is already halfway through the exit.

“Nope!”

“Wow.” He says, his eyes glinting with amusement and shock behind his mask. You stand there panting, slightly sweaty and extremely eager to show him how the contraption works. But the moment you settle it down, he’s already tinkering with it.

“I’m guessing you’ve brought this to aid in our lack of music?” He smiles up at you humorously and you grin sheepishly.

“Figured you’d appreciate a break from having to hum all the time.” You mumble and fiddle with your thumbs. It was a gesture that you had been conjuring up ever since you noticed how fatigued he would get trying to hum and dance simultaneously, and you figured you needed an arm workout anyway.

“I don’t mind the humming,” He stands up and takes your hand in his. “But thank you anyway.” His smile is perfect, and you thank the heavens it’s not covered by the mask.

“So, shall we begin?” You nod and he places a hand on his shoulder and his hand around your waist and flips a switch on the player with the tip of his boot.

“One, two, three…” The music fills the air softly, a mix of static and melodies while he guides you around the courtyard. You’re still not yet used to holding his gaze- mostly because he makes your heart do things it shouldn’t, but you blame it on your lack of habit.

Each step is just as smooth as the previous and there’s no denying the massive improvements you’ve made. “You’re doing excellent,” He compliments in-between counts and you grin. “I have a great teacher.”

He spins you out and you twirl back into him, your back pressed against his chest and you can feel his breath ghost over your neck. It sends shivers down your spine, and you’re praying he doesn’t see the hairs standing up at the back of your neck.

The moment is gone as quick as it came, however, and you’re back to facing him. You notice the red tint on the tips of his ears and something inside you becomes giddy at the thought of making him blush.

But of course, the gods hate you, so they decide to mess with your record player. “What’s happening?” The tunes become slower and slurred, the periods of static becoming prolonged, and what once was a harmonious symphony has now become nothing but noise.

You both stop in place momentarily, your gaze drifting towards the turn-table across the courtyard as you curse it out for ruining the mood. Out of all the times it could’ve picked to malfunction, it chooses now to act up? Blasphemy.

A finger is placed on your chin and brings your gaze back to his. “Well the music is, technically, still playing and you know what they say- The show must go on.” There’s a smile on his face and you look at him, puzzled.

“But the music’s off beat?”

“The music is never wrong- we’re simply too fast.” He says wittily. You’re still confused, but he takes extra slow steps and your mind puts two-and-two together.

After being so accustomed to moving as fast and as accurate to the beat as possible, the slow counts are ones you can barely get used to- heck, you can barely count in the midst of the skewed melodies and scrambled music. But you keep your eyes on him and he brings your body closer to his until you’re flush against his chest, and suddenly the music doesn’t even matter any more. You’re moving aimlessly with him with every slow step that passes you by, and the music melts into the background until it becomes lost with the crickets and trees. His gaze is soft and gentle with a comforting firmness, just like his grip, and you’re so entranced with the stranger before you that you don’t even hear the clock strike twelve.

There’s a myriad of synonyms that are along the lines of ‘perfect’, but you’d have to spend a lifetime trying to find the one that perfectly encapsulates this moment.

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